Act II: Benefactor
Chapter I
Plot twists. Written as Mukuro's perspective and search.
The sudden jerk from the ground was, alas, little more than a self-assuring push. For the strangest reason, Chrome was difficult to detect; as if Mukuro's senses were swathed in a heavy blanket- he had never actually searched for her in a physical manner, it was always mental in his ways of finding his innocent host. The lack of being able to track someone like her compounded with his inability to escape from the Vendicare put him to shame- Mukuro could do little but clench his gloved hand into a white-knuckled fist in frustration. Logic told him that he could simply walk around and feel Chrome more closely, but the flickering of a candle he felt would not increase in intensity- it was already so weak that it was hardly even noticeable- too late, he now realized.
Mukuro had little time for thought as he slipped the contemporary tome into the pockets of his jacket and left the entrance covered with illusory invisibility. The most obvious place to search was, of course, the school. Having transferred to Namimori, there was no excuse for the pitiful Mafia boss to not even know the general whereabouts of his family; his abode was the first target. There was no faster option than running- he put away his trident and moved with every bit of speed as people, cars, buildings melted into opacity on the way to his destination.
As he moved, thoughts again invaded his mind of vague, hardly visible emotions- they weighed his legs like metal beads- each insignificant but with such a quantity, his mind was fogged by the multitude of thoughts. Mukuro paid each thought no heed, turning his mind from the thoughts. They were not unfamiliar, rather unwelcome. With each closing second, the grey stone of the Sawada home grew more noticeable- until finally, he was but a step from the gate- drawing back his arm, Mukuro smashed his arm into the center bar; the metal shrieked and burst open. Not a step was lost as he forced his legs to move him across the manicured lawn and rammed into the house's door.
The heavy wooden portal stood a twig's resistance, the sheer force and weight of the door itself causing it to snap free of the hinges and land a meter past the doorway. There was a high pitched squeal that erupted from a couch, but it was not worth notice. Stepping with more discretion, Mukuro heard the panicked scuffling of, presumably, the juvenile boss himself.
Without a hint, the sound quickly stopped. Mukuro gritted his teeth in anger and impatience, silently walking towards the source of the noise and kicking the door open. Inside was a sight he would never forget.
The boss's jutting brown hair, hidden beneath both hands as he cowered beside the bed which he had just rolled off. It was obvious he knew exactly why Mukuro Rokudo had rampaged through his home.
Perhaps a piece of the very hells he had traveled through was captured within his heart. Mukuro's body was motionless, and his head dipped down as his eyes closed. The sense of disappointment rolled across his body like a cold wave of sea. When his eyes both opened again, the demonic iris was an easily visible 'four'. The royal blue of the flame had instead contracted, within the deepest core emerging a core of bloodred crimson. Fire flickered in and out as he leveled a stare without a hint of accusation, but the remnants of the confusion of the new emotions he had developed.
Tsuna's eyes may have been crucified to Mukuro's, as if he were a worthless pigeon that merely had time to realize his death as an eagle tore him into bloodied feathers. The one thing that the boss of the family could feel was unending killing intention from Mukuro. He opened his mouth harshly, haltingly in an uncharacteristic manner of himself.
"You call yourself the inheritor of a family, one so worthless as to hide from the first hint of danger while guarded by a wall of devoted? It is not necessary for me to express what you should receive. Know this- if you dare allow a member of your family to die so willingly-," and, with that, withdrew his trident and without any formality drove three steel prongs diagonally downwards into the boy's heart, stomach, and navel- an expression of disbelief and shock dominated the mafioso's face-
Mukuro, with no small amount of vindictiveness, kicked him hard in the ribs, allowing the nearly real illusion to melt away once it was obvious that no information about Chrome's whereabouts were to be given.
'Such anger..,' his cynical side jeered, stoking the heat of harsh protectiveness burning within his veins- a remark he promptly brushed off, turning on his heel and leaving the house. The anger was simple in cause- Tsuna was the boss of his family and based off the way he reacted, he must have known Chrome was gone, yet simply ignored the face. Such a man would never gain his respect, in combat or otherwise.
Mukuro's composure left him for the barest of seconds, a lance through armor; every thought, worry of her being harmed, the pure evil one would need to do such a thing, rattled through his chest with the cold of a thousand winters, breath constricted in his throat as shock rippled within him.
His breath came in chopped pieces as the full realization dawned within; Chrome, so close to his heart, would be but a lifeless shell and he himself would be confined to the depths of a submerged cell until it became his grave. And then, the horrors of the next realm for an eternity of eternities awaited- his greatest regret that he could not repent his actions to Chrome, or to anyone. Rokudo Mukuro would die alone, with not a single bit of control over his fate. A pointless, unfulfilled existence.
It would have been so easy to take away Chrome; as he himself knew. He pictured it in his mind- a young boy asked her to come play while she returned from school, led the girl like a sheep to a secluded basement, while well-prepared thugs would steal the trident at gunpoint- and then violate her, slit her throat; a young girl who had never seen the true evils of the world.
And the only new emotion he felt was indignation.
Incredulity of how he himself had become so foolish as to allow his life to hang by the same of some girl, however unique, anger at the one who took her which overflowed his spirit, and by extension, his flames. Pale purple flared into translucent indigo around his eye, his vision taking on the hue. Flickers of color dotted his sight beyond the boundaries of walls, but not any ordinary colors; they were of flames themselves. With no more than a bit of focus, Mukuro managed to bring the colors down to only that of mist- no more than a handful lined his vision.
'Interesting.. how similar to the fabled Devil Lens. This should prove useful,' Mukuro mused, noting the layer of mist and storm over his eye. 'How ironic. Construction, coupled with disintegration?' Other thoughts aside, he noted the amount of energy streaming out of his body- suddenly realizing how he would find Chrome. A rush of relief overtook his body, coupled with a dreadful anxiety from within his breast. With few other options, Rokudo Mukuro dashed through the streets, nothing more than a windy spectre to any observer.
X
The temperature was the first sign. Contrary to the humid warmth of the rest of the region, for what seemed like a mile around the meadow surrounding Chrome's location, the air was as cold as the Vendicare, as if there was invisible snow around Mukuro's body. Aggravated, the caster remembered that the lens box was with Chrome, as there was no way that he could consistently carry it. Out of sheer curiosity, he recalled the similar feature of mist and storm-
And nearly ran straight into a building. He skidded to a halt, toe brushing against stone as wariness overtook him. Fortunately, the simple magnitude of the area made masking the entire thing in illusions impossible, however, that someone was able to cast such a feat was already impressive. By this point Mukuro had decided simply manifesting himself around Chrome was an incredibly badly thought idea, instead assuming that he was already being watched and casting a counter-illusion was the safest idea. He reacquired his trail of mist flames- they seemed to be entering the very thing he had nearly smashed himself into, a simple brick-enclosed area the size of a room. So, in fact, it was not a building, but instead, as he conjured supports from mist and climbed over-
X
So, apologies about the long update most of all. As I was very tired from fencing every day, I had to sleep early and by proxy did not write any. All of this was done since two days ago and some today. My airplane to Beijing is boarding now, in fact, so that is why I had to create a cliffhanger. If I can get a network after my 15 hour flight, I will update ASAP.