Chapter II

Told from Chrome's perspective of the next few days while Mukuro is recovering his strength to utilize the sixth path, self-thoughts, and perhaps complications.

Chrome emerged from a drowsy world, eye closed in a moment of self-indulgence, before her thoughts rushed back into her head, realizing it was the first night of unburdened sleep she had in such a long time. The last thing she had remembered was being hardly awoken by his gentle touch, being moved around in some sort of graceful dance and losing herself to sleep in the lullaby of his body and presence.

She opened her eyes to a remarkable sight; her room, clean. Gone were the remnants of random history scattered across her floor, instead it all seemed to have gathered in the wastebasket. Unfathomable, but as he was the only one in her home yesterday, Mukuro could have been the only one to do such a thing. With that came his words when they were locked in battle; perhaps not as philosophical as a thinker, but more so than usual.

'Mist? Enveloping, and adapting, he said,' Chrome mused, drowsiness preventing her mind from gathering any more details. Her head full of meaningless blank, she recklessly threw herself off the bed and onto her feet, instinctively cringing at the sharp objects usually on the floor, before feeling soft carpet and chiding herself. With a quick glance at the digital clock by her bed, she realized that it was already just past eleven and her stomach reacted rather accordingly, having not been satisfied for nearly an entire day.

She prepared for the day in a rather dazed manner, dressing and walking barefoot to the restrictive kitchen and pouring a bowl of some nondescript, generic frosted cereal. As her clouded thoughts cleared, Chrome realized they were still all the same; more thoughts of her mental inhabitant, his words of advice and instruction, and how she should work towards them, but, alas, they were of little use, her thoughts as productive as filling a sieve with sand; they would well up for a moment, and then drift back into the ground, but still with nothing recognizable.

Why the day angered Chrome so much, she could not tell. Perhaps it was her master's recovering from his illness, her inability to think, or the events clouding her mind, but regardless, by the time she had stepped foot outside of the door, her mental state was primed to bursting; anything negative said towards her would likely push her to lashing out.

Humans stretched out before her like flattened lines, ubiquitous, worthless, simple scenery. Normally the white sun would have brightened her mood, but today it was little more than a light source, as her weary eyes rested upon the dark of business suits and shadows as she simply wandered, drifting across the crowds with not a single personal possession. There was not a voice to distract her as she sat mute upon a bridge's lip for the entire day as if she were a young child again, blissfully unaware of her father's greed or mother's vain narcissism and content to ponder life thoughts in the reflection of the gray water as she was sure innumerable beings before her had, and found the exact same inexplicable fascination with the fluid and ever-changing, reflective and obscuring substance, but what truly struck her is how unchanging it was. No matter how many eons Chrome decided to gaze upon the water, not once would there be a single ripple more than if she were dust.

And that is what impressed her about Mukuro. He was hidden to a degree where, though she may not be able to see the bottom, could penetrate further than any others, but he had never changed his true self. His nature was again the same as he shifted his surface, his appearances. Always like mist; perhaps he could engage with others who were the same, but anything more solid, he dominated, and anything less corporeal was of no importance. But it was done without effort at all, he simply drifted along the currents and took what he was given. She could not tolerate one so callous as to impose himself upon others' wills without permission, yet neither one so concerned that he could not change the actions and thoughts of others. But, as Chrome reminded herself again, such thoughts would not have come into existence without him reviving her, it was more than likely her preferences had formed after such extensive interaction with him.

Her mind seemed almost like it was a blank tape as her thoughts flattened, liquefying and flatlining as she looked again at the water, watching the unusually full moon arc across the water, hours passing like several minutes to her overly stressed brain, which eased itself as her stony expression softened into a relaxed smile. The most obvious sensation she felt sitting upon the concrete was the passive but intense feeling of ease and pleasure as cool wind sifted through the long strands of hair across her brow, rolling up her forearms and legs, spreading across the bare skin of her navel.

It was already, however, to the point where her single-thought concentration had left her; the sparse few footsteps distracted Chrome gradually more and more as they became rarer. Finally, as she glanced down to a golden-black watch did she shake herself from the reverie that had pleasurably overtaken her. The time was right if she were to make it to school at her normal seven-twenty; the three hands indicating a recent half past nine. Accordingly, the moon was naught more than a coin in the sky compared to its relative massiveness earlier; how much so was unknown.

With a minute sigh, Chrome boosted herself off of her long-time chair and quickly clung to it again as the sensation of being incredibly lightheaded overtook her brain momentarily. As her senses rushed back to her, she looked again at where she had been sitting; a veritable piece of Venice in the nondescript town; a stone and granite walkway with similar brick pavement flanked on both sides by restaurants with strewn tables. She took the slightest inappropriate moment in such darkness to reflect upon the scenery; it was not like Japan anymore in her mind, but rather like the floating city. Perhaps that particular feature of the island town is why Mukuro had decided to look for her there, he could have lived in Venice as a child, or, dare she think it, in a past life. As she thought back, even the climate must have been similar, seeing as mostly the same parallels ran through Italy as well as Japan- no small coincidence, she remarked.

And with such thought so condensed, Chrome peered across the restaurants yet again, seeing some sort of cleaning boy open the door of the waterside eatery, and hearing no few exclamations as the heavy metal door shut quickly. She smiled; it was always enjoyable to see another person who could also take a break from the quickness and cause-and-effect of normal life to watch an unchangeable force like the water.

Without any other valid excuses to dither, Chrome took a final glance at the currents before she turned on her heel and jogged back to her home, with the lantern lights guiding her back to the quiet relief of home.

.

As her watch struck ten and twelve, Chrome reached for her keys and unlocked the door- home had never seemed quite so, well, mundane after her deep thought. Realistically, not much had changed between her and Mukuro- he had imparted wisdom upon her, as he was rather wont, but perhaps it was her evolution that changed the opinion. As he had pointed out; she could see through his actions unlike before, and his approval, his positive touch admittedly stroked her underwhelming self-esteem. It was like a warm badge she kept within herself, a constant warmth that she could always recall.

That was, though, the limit. She was not Levi; she did not work for praise, though it was a more than suitable reward when it came from Mukuro, but only because she held him in far higher regard than any other. The reward from anything else was the simple achievement she gained in her mind knowing that her vision was clearer than before, that she could see what once was invisible to her and that she was enlightened to the previously hidden facet of knowledge. Still, it was valuable and something she would hold within herself, but she resolved to not let her pride affect her perception, to be a whetstone to hone her concentration rather than to dull it with bloated arrogance.

Chrome walked, rather dazed, to her kitchen, far too worn with thought to do much more than sleep. Luckily only the kitchen light was on; she would have been loathe to walk around the apartment and waste power. Feeling very much like a typical man, she skipped the preliminary refrigerator-check, instead opening the freezer to a carton of overpriced, imported ice cream, which, she admitted, was one of the few things that she could certainly not afford personally. A mental image of her eating Mukuro's bills caused her to giggle uncontrollably momentarily and nearly drop the red and cream container, and the image stayed in her head as she took a spoon from the utensil drawer, delicately cleaving a half-spoonful of rum raisin each bite, as she walked happily towards her bedroom, again miraculously devoid of any litter.

At that, she recalled the person who paid, weekly, for the ice cream currently melting atop her tongue. With help from both feet, she slipped the boots from her feet to rest beside the bed and silently thanked Mukuro for cleaning her room and leaving a little sign of his presence, a design in the frame of her bed directly above her head, two detailed, if hastily done wings, quite real. With a release of breath, she drew her frame into the soft bedding, putting her daily hygiene behind well needed rest, sleeping to the gentle pressure of Mukuro's touch and the fierce joy at being able to keep up with his expectations.

X

Oh gods, I broke my 2000 promise already, apologies. Here's the explanation; I wrote about 500 words on the 22nd or so, had fencing camp for a week and didn't write much until today, and I realize that I write in spurts, so it may take another week for me to put something up, and it would be stupid for me to waste your authorship time. Anyways, the words in this chapter just break 1700, so my apologies for breaking such an early thing. *miniature bow* Anyways, I should be more free to write and converse with my lovely beta, Whisper of Echo, coincidentally enough, my first reviewer, which is a now not-so-subtle hint for readers to drop me a review if you'd like, as I'll probably appreciate your words more than you would think. By the way, anyone ever take a look at my author ID? I felt pretty special to have, no lie, 1969692. Anyways, best wishes to all and my apologies for not having more interaction between the two and Mukuro's perspective, this day was supposed to be a Chrome-centric one either way. Good night, readers, I need my rest. It is now 3:47 AM in Houston, and hopefully you enjoy my labor.