OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Discovery
This is how the Mist shrouds the Moon.
Sojourn
In the depths of the night, a shadow stirs in Reiki Noriko's bedroom. Mukuro steps up to the hospital bed without any regard for hospital visiting hours and looks down at the girl, taking in the closed eyes, moonlight hair, and peaceful expression.
What a lie, he thinks.
Mukuro doesn't regret giving Chrome the position of Mist Guardian. He has no intention of becoming directly involved with the Vongola, much less in a positive way, and his darling Nagi is such a useful tool. When he takes over the Vongola, he will be in a prime position to do so.
It helps that he has long since taught her how to switch minds with him. Teaching that arrogant Arcobaleno his place was most satisfying.
Besides, he has the Malocchio Hell Ring. The Mist Ring isn't important enough for him to covet it, which is why, while Chrome is away, watching as the Vongola Rings are upgraded, Mukuro has the freedom to sneak around here. It is, he notes with amusement, a new moon tonight.
"How far you've fallen," he mutters to himself, to the sleeping girl. "Reiki Noriko. Cervello Cynthia."
Terror
Mukuro is in the rare position of having no fucking idea of what to do.
He came to the girl with (somewhat) honest intentions. He wanted to know who was audacious enough to imply that he couldn't take care of his people, that he was incompetent and weak and stupid. He granted her very strange request to hear him laugh.
And now, Reiki Noriko is having a panic attack on the floor right in front of him. Which. What. Fuck.
After hearing him laugh - again, weird even for Mukuro - Noriko stared for a good half a minute, pupils constricted and focused on something that didn't exist, before crumbling like a puppet with its strings cut. Now, she's curled up in the fetal position and rocking back and forth, breath coming far too fast and much too ragged.
Mukuro inwardly curses to himself and wonders if he should leave. Would that help? He doubts that Tsunayoshi would appreciate Mukuro harming Noriko in any way, and after he's been so 'good' for so long, that would be terribly detrimental.
Still, he certainly didn't sign up for the role of therapist.
Mukuro likes Noriko, to a point. She's a puzzle, an enigma, and Mukuro does so enjoy figuring those out. He also owes her a debt, one he has not forgotten. All of this does not stop him from scowling as he crosses the room and kneels beside the stupid, panicking girl.
"Noriko," he says, because while he may find this situation distasteful, he has dealt with panic attacks before. "Noriko."
No response.
He sighs and resigns himself to the inevitable. "Breathe," Mukuro instructs. "Inhale, yes, just like that, hold it for a count of five...not that quickly! Here, one...two...three...four...five...now exhale. Good, now, inhale again, one...two..."
Slowly, painstakingly, Mukuro talks Noriko out of her panic attack.
History
When Mukuro falls silent, when Noriko is calm once more, silence hangs over them like an executioner's sword. Finally, she sighs audibly and opens her eyes slightly, slivers of pale blue peeking out.
"I suppose you want answers?"
He smirks. "It is the least you can do."
She doesn't reply but uncurls with sinuous grace and busies herself making tea, the previous batch having gone cold by now. "Sit."
Noriko, he muses as he retakes his seat, sounds even tired than before. Not surprising, but given her usual composure, problematic. Mukuro braces himself for something outlandish.
She sits across from him and stares down at the steaming teacup in her hands like it holds all of the answers she seeks. "You said you've been reincarnated six times."
He plays with his own teacup and speculates on where she's going with this. "I did."
"I don't know how you're still sane," Noriko says bluntly, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. "I've only been reincarnated once, and I'm losing it."
Mukuro stares. "...what."
She smiles wanly and ran a hand through her hair. "Mm-hm."
After a second to collect his thoughts and make sure this isn't a joke, he shakes his head and starts thinking. "...who were you?"
"Cervello Cynthia."
"Cervello," he repeats. "Those women..." And, oh. "Those judges." Mukuro should have seen the connection sooner.
Noriko smiles, sardonic and melancholic. "Bingo."
Enmity
Noriko doesn't tell him much more. A few more basic facts of who she once was, before Mukuro finds himself at the door. And, like before, he turns his head before leaving and asks a question.
This time, he has some idea of whose memory saved him.
"Is that why you hate me?" he inquiries, genuinely curious. "Because of him?"
Noriko blinks at him and then laughs, drained and mournful. It's a surprisingly annoying sound. "I don't hate you, Mukuro," she says and closes the door in his face.
He still hears her through the wood when she murmurs, "I never hated him either."
Standoff
Mukuro is of the opinion that Tsunayoshi owes him for many things. Not the least of which is lounging like a king on the hospital chair when the shadows shift once more and an unwelcome figure appears.
"Kufufufu...fancy meeting you here, Daemon Spade."
"Indeed, Rokudo Mukuro," the other illusionist acknowledges, a coy tilt to his head. "It's one in the morning. One can only wonder what you're doing in Cynthia's personal room at this hour."
Mukuro smirks and holds out his hand. In a swirl of Mist, his trident manifests. "At least I'm not the one who stabbed her...missing her heart by a few centimeters or so...accidentally."
Daemon alights with Flame in response.