This is war
Title inspired by: Thirty seconds to Mars – This is war
Disclaimer:I don't own KHR.
Author's Note:
No, I refuse to acknowledge that Dino is somewhat OOC ... Noooo, I can't hear you! But the hell, Amano-sensei! He's Italian, give him some temper/character! You guys have no ideas how happy your comments make me. One day you'll make me cry :D
My uttermost heartfelt thanks to xSkywires, Audriel, KHR LOVER, Girasol D Bans, Merisela, P3achi3, AlteaAuroraRia, Papiermoon and dear DatAnzKid
Thanks for reading. I truly appreciate it
On the day Nagi died, Kuromu Dokuro was born.
She was born into an environment sustained by liars and illusions and Mukuro-sama bestowed her with the gift of creating mirages, making her own lies.
This talent, this lying was her ultimate forte and lying she did.
Because as sad as it sounds, they were all nothing but liars living in a world full of lies.
He paced through the lily-white hallways (and albeit their meaning he knew that lilies were also flowers of death) like a wounded animal, eyes wide in fear and senses alert. The intensive care unit was straight ahead of him and he burst through the swinging doors with absolute authority. Cables and wires were on the ground, tubes stuck all over the walls and I.V. poles waited to be used. Tsuna made a resentful noise.
"But you're a wonderful onii-sama."
He needed to know how her condition was.
They were waiting in that tiny white room, air full of disinfectants and silence. Only the two of them were present because Ryohei was undertaking Tsuna's duties for the moment and Lambo whose eyes had been suspiciously red-rimmed, informed their friends. Mukuro had disappeared (yet again) and only Kami knew where Hibari was.
Gokudera bit his lip, circled the metal side table for the forth time and lit a cigarette before crushing it into the ashtray and reaching for another one. He repeated the process. His pack was almost empty and he hadn't even taken a single drag.
Shit.
Fucking Mareggiata.
"Would it... would it be okay if I came here a second time?"
He stopped his march around the furniture and clenched his teeth so hard, it hurt.
Fucking Mareggiata.
Yamamoto was sitting on the black couch, hands clenching into angry fists and he stared into space, his mind liquid and pliable like rain drops. This helpless feeling, the same he had to encounter when his father died. Nothing to do. Unable to save.
"T-this...? I was told... that tangerines are good for a sick person. They contain lots of vitamin C. Also some fever patches and a few... incense sticks. For your father."
He closed his eyes.
Mareggiata.
A loud sound shot through the room and when the door opened, both of them seemed alarmed. And for a second...
Ryohei stumbled in, Lambo right behind him and both were panting heavily. The newcomer duo looked up, awaiting good news and hope reflecting in their eyes but the other men shook their heads in unison. The boxer was the first to break the stillness.
"They really attacked. Unprovoked and without any reason."
He smashed his fist down on the table and the metal gave away under the force of the blow. Lambo flinched.
"Fucking Mareggiata," provided the Storm, the last cigarette in his mouth. He turned to the Rain. "What's your opinion, baseball idiot?"
And the tall man raised from the couch and viewed his determined acquaintances. He glowered.
"This is war."
And they all held their breaths.
There was a satisfying noise when his foot ground down on the male person underneath, efficiently breaking his bones, squashing his internal organs. Funny though, because they had come after him. Nine of them. To be precise. A meeting by chance (an attempted ambush/assassination by their definition) and although those guys tried to come up with all kinds of dirty and useless tricks, he had crushed them mercilessly, easily. Rats like them were crowding after all. Their box weapons had been no match, the ridiculous zebra was impaled, limb body presented like a trophy, and the other animal, that pathetic mongoose, was pierced by multiple spikes, squashed against the wall. Dead men covered the pavement and he walked over them effortlessly.
Because he was a cataclysm, crashing over his opponents like an avalanche, exploding like a pair-instability supernova without leaving any evidence behind.
He was the continental drift and all the people were aware of him but there was little to stop his advancing.
He was Hibari Kyouya.
Clapping sounded through the evening and his head snapped to the side, watching the playful threads of mist as they started to materialize a solid body. "I am truly amazed, Hibari-kun." And he summoned his trident (if needed; Hibari-kun was an inscrutable, moody creature). "You're going out of your way to punish those people? Chrome would be honoured."
He sneered.
"They attacked me. I didn't do it for her. Besides, those herbivores were infiltrating Namimori-shi, disrupting the discipline."
The Italian chuckled.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Hibari gave him a bland look and positioned his tonfa, ready to fight. His gaze wandered towards the shining trident.
"I trust you didn't come to chat."
But the Mist Guardian dismissed him with a frivolous swing of his hand while he nudged one of the victims with the blunt end of his weapon. Receiving no response, he grinned. "This is just like you, Hibari-kun. I'm quite happy we're on the same side..." ,not that you would bother to hold back if I was your opponent, he added musingly.
"Don't delude yourself. We're not on the same side. I'd kill you, given half a chance."
Because he wouldn't mind attending that funeral.
"That might as well be true. As for my appearance..., about that kiss..."
Screw that, he would volunteer to organise the funeral.
"I didn't know you were there... if I did, I wouldn't have bothered coming."
The other man snickered and Hibari felt the same rush of impatience that used to pulse through his system when he was younger. However, he had learned to control those urges and had managed to cease.. or rather limit those mindless attacks and the blind charging to a minimum. Of course, this fighting style still came in handy ever and anon but these situation were way too few and way too infrequent. Only resorting to that method if he had to win against all odds... and for sure, that didn't occur often.
There was a dull noise when something hit the ground.
The former prefect glanced at the brownish object, his eyebrow raised. Rokudo Mukuro chuckled, index finger and thumb placed against his lower lip and the other arm was supporting his elbow.
"To be perfectly frank, there was no need for me to go to Italy whatsoever. At least not to obtain the information on the Mareggiata famiglia. Anyway, I do believe it would have been fun. I miss the countryside. It's a shame Tsunayoshi is such paranoid person (not that anyone could blame him; thought but not vocalised), don't you think," and he stretched the last syllables in a lambent manner, "Hi~ba~ri-ku~n?"
"I'm not accepting favours from you," clarified the black-haired man, arms crossed.
"Now, don't be that way. I'm not doing you a favour. If anything, you're the one who's helping me."
"No." He tilted his head and narrowed his light grey eyes in mockery. "All the more reason for me to decline."
Stubborn, defiant bastard that he was. Just. How to get through that thick skull of his? Bribing him wasn't all that easy, his main interests were fighting and Namimori-shi...and probably...?
"They're still waiting."
His face remained indifferent but he hadn't left yet, a sign that he was at least listening. Maybe even interested.
"But no response so far."
"You're not making any sense, Italian."
Hibari turned away. His weapons were placidly in his hands, waiting for a sudden ambush but not prepared to attack abruptly. Somewhat reassuring. His past self would have charged him the moment he appeared.
Backed up by this knowledge, the Mist was adamant.
"It must have hurt so much."
The other man retreated, slow and steady steps taking him further away.
"Despite the fact that she put up a good fight. Too bad some of those bastards lay in ambuscade."
He paused. Movements stilled. And Rokudo Mukuro smirked with malicious glee.
"They crowded her like a group of herbivores because each and every single of them is weak. That's why they attacked you in the same way," he lisped artfully, words carefully chosen.
Stepping forward, he bent down, picked the tan folder up and wiped some imaginary dust off.
"Her pride. It must be shattered. Good thing she killed half of them. Though I wonder if she cried when they torm-!"
A swift motion in front of him and he promptly launched backwards, trident raised to counter until he noticed that it hadn't been an attack. He willingly let go of the folder as Hibari snatched it out of his gloved hands. "Don't get me wrong, Italian. I'm not doing this for you. Or for her, as a matter of fact. Nevertheless, those cowards are breaking my rules and they generally disrupt the peace, so I will see to their punishment."
A second later, he was gone. Perpetually, the echoing rhythm of his footsteps faded into hollow silence.
Mukuro viewed the dead bodies, formerly living people and now nothing but a bloody mess and he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Their remains had been squelched beyond recognition. Releasing his trademark laugh, his mismatched eyes glowed in the dark shadows of the buildings.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
And he too, vanished, indigo filaments of mist tinselling through the air.
"Kyou-san, I hope you had a goo-"
"Save it, Tetsu. I'm certainly not in the mood," he heckled and stormed through the wooden corridors, perplexed subordinate right behind him.
"About the meeting yesterday... I assume you want me to deliver the details later on."
They were standing in front of the master bedroom and Kusakabe knew better than entering those private premises. He stiffened when he noticed the other man... hesitating?
Purely a fleeting moment.
"Yes. Later on will be fine."
The sliding door was closed with too much force. The vice slunk back to the kitchen in order to prepare some tea. After changing into his black yukata, Hibari sat down on his pale violet zabuton. His fingers creased the sandy brown folder with sheer force. He lessened the pressure and threw the papers aside, tried desperately to calm his seething temper.
Damn that mind whore.
First, he would bite the Mareggiata to death and then, absolutely and certainly, Rokudo Mukuro was going to be the next.
He hated the recurrent sounds around him.
All those beeping, cheeping and buzzing.
Detestable.
A drilling urge and he wanted, needed, had to bite his fingernails so bad (which he had stopped when he turned seventeen) and opted instead to run those nervous, restless fingers through his hair. Fortunately, the door opened. Swift movements. A man clad in white approached him with a grave expression. Dutifully, he raised from the chair and greeted him with a brief curtsey. There was no time for superfluous, redundant courtesies. But luckily the other person was also a man of business and welcomed their unspoken agreement.
This was neither the place nor the moment to waste time.
"We received the records."
"I'm more interested in the current situation."
A subtle cough. A shift of eyes. And:
"I ensure you that this information is of utmost importance."
"I don't understand."
Sighing audibly, the man secured his grip on the clipboard and flipped through the pages.
"According to this record, that... lady friend of yours, Dokuro-san, is pregnant. About her current condition..."
And Tsunayoshi held his breath.
He would rather die than admit that Rokudo Mukuro's collected data was expedient. Because it already took him half an hour to come up with another term than 'helpful'. Whoever his informant was, he sure did a good job. Everything about the Mareggiata was neatly reported. A detailed list of their respective departments, their resources and even some profiles of their high-ranking members. Additionally, there was even a synopsis of their box weapons and preferred attributes.
Definitely useful. Someone did their homework.
Plus, there was no way this had been done by the male Mist.
He was clever (and it pained so much to concede this) but he wasn't the linear, structural person who liked graphs and charts. So, using his own wits, Hibari concluded the pineapple had either been in contact with Irie Shoichi or received these papers from the blonde mechanic whose name he couldn't remember. Going to Italy to meet his informant? Sawada Tsunayoshi's decision had been wise after all. Not that the Cloud ever questioned a decision objecting Rokudo Mukuro.
Sighing, he stood up and strolled out of his room. He met Kusakabe in the hallway and passed the folder over, surprising the taller man. He almost dropped it, flustered.
"Do you want me to... …? No, honestly, I'm not exactly sure what you want me to do. I'm sorry, Kyou-san."
The look on his superior's face was lethal but he also realized that is wasn't entirely directed at him. It also seemed like he hadn't even listened to him or had paid any attention to his question. Fuming, Hibari loathed himself for his next action.
"Chrome Dokuro."
His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Have you heard anything about her condition?"
The vice shook his head immediately.
"No, why? Is something wrong with her? I stayed at the Vongola mansion and I'm afraid these news are... well, new to me."
"Then don't concern yourself with it," he hissed curtly, "More importantly, organize those facts and prepare some diagrams. Afterwards, send them to Sawada Tsunayoshi for he might need them in his next pathetic meeting so that my attendance won't be obligatory."
Sweating profusely, Kusakabe fled into his office.
Hibari watched his departure and walked into his living room. Or meeting room. Or whatever it really was. Striding over the tatami mats, he reached the sliding doors. Carefully, he pushed them apart to reveal the nice view into his garden. Reddish trees, almost bare by now, and tranquil tapping of the bamboo shishi odoshi greeted him and he raised his hand, gaze directed towards the sky.
Seconds later, a yellow bird landed on his finger, nestling against his owner's hand, proudly chirping his name.
He petted the little ball of fluff.
"I need you to do me a favour."
A few minutes later, Hibird took off towards his destination.
Hibari returned into the spacious room and lit a candle, a grey book waited to be read. But it was hard to concentrate and he had this peculiar premonition that his solitude wouldn't last long anyway. Confirmation appeared (in form of a human being) approximately seventeen minutes later. Irritated, he placed the book on his lap, glaring at the intruder.
"Hey, Kyouya. Whatcha doin'?"
An annoying grin was plastered on the blonde man's face and he ducked the book which was precisely aimed at his head. Since his evasive manoeuvre was (surprisingly) successful, Hibari assumed that his underlings were buzzing around somewhere, prolly keeping Tetsuya company.
"My day is fraught with obstacles, inconveniences and unpleasantness. And I thought it could only get worse. Go ahead, prove me wrong by leaving," Hibari deadpanned.
Cavallone laughed, obviously not catching the cynic tone.
"So, heard about the mission from Tetsuya yet?"
A sober look.
"Okay... I take this as a 'no'. Seemingly, it's not that important. Tried to call Tsuna today but he's oddly busy. Well, it's not that odd since he's the head of Vongola and all that jazz but honestly, under normal circumstances, he would at least call me back after...," he ceased his cheerful chatter and glanced into the garden.
"Something happened, huh?"
"You're awfully observant," the sardonic reply.
This time he did detect the underlying meaning but sensibly decided to ignore it. Prudently, he tried a different approach.
"There were some rumours this morning. Some of my family members were upset but they couldn't confirm its authenticity."
He lowered his gaze.
"The Mareggiata attacked?"
Hibari eyed him extensively and ended his observation with a nod.
"The victim is Chrome Dokuro."
A spluttering noise and frantic, frenzied movements to his right alarmed him and he stared into wide tan eyes.
"What? How could anybody assault a lovely lady like her?"
He glared at him.
"She's in the Mafia. Furthermore, she's also a guardian."
"Yeah, but she's so harmless (if only he knew, but some impressions were meant to be preserved) and cute. When did that happen?"
"Yesterday."
"She went out after you took her home?
"We stopped at a corner because she wanted to walk. Must have happened during her walk back home."
Suddenly, the bronco lunged forward and grabbed Hibari's shoulders, ignoring the tonfa pressing against his throat (hadn't she ignored it as we-). He shook him, expression in between indignant, appalled and simply furious.
"What the hell? I thought you took her home? As in: Stopping in front of her apartment!"
The former prefect forcefully shoved his hands off.
"And I said she wanted to walk. As in: She wanted to walk! Her apartment was close anywa-!"
A fist.
His head snapped to the side by the force of the impact. Instinctively, his tonfa collided with the Italian's cheek a second afterwards and he tumbled backwards as well. However, he recovered in a split second and instantly charged forward again, gripping the fabric of the yukata's neckline.
"The hell, Kyouya! Are you serious! You read the files and knew it would be dang-!"
A loud crash filled the room and the bronco landed on his back, whip in his hands to block the hailing tonfa.
"We didn't know they were this eager. Furthermore, she's supposed to be a fighter. And we can't watch each other's back for twenty four hours," Hibari spoke through gritted teeth.
"So, basically, this was bound to happen? Fuck! This is bullshit and you know it!"
He tried to kick him off but only managed to graze his shin. Howsoever, this was enough to create a distance between them. They both regained their composure, catching their breaths. Running his fingers through that blonde thatch of his, Dino closed his eyes and shook his head to collect his thoughts. He peered up, sinister look in his eyes. He was the head of a Mafia famiglia and shouldn't succumb to autotelic irrationalism. Besides, this wasn't the right way to converse with Hibari. Annoyance aside, he had to calm down.
"Sorry about that. I know it's not like me to cuss like this..."
Hibari scowled.
"You blame me?"
"No. Not really (or maybe a little bit), Kyouya. It's just... you know, so sudden. And I thought you'd keep an eye on her."
"She may not look like anything but a doll but she can be incomparable stubborn."
Cavallone scoffed.
"Stubborn? You're one to talk."
His outburst had subsided and he rearranged himself into a more comfortable position.
"How is she then?"
He couldn't help to blink in surprise when he noticed how the other man's hands clenched and an ominous shadow crept over his features.
"I don't know." Veins were visible on the back of his hand. "Those herbivores are currently crowding in the hospital and watch her room like guard dogs as far as I know. They said they'll contact Tetsu if anything changes."
And Dino's anger was completely forgotten, his countenance back. He slumped backwards and lay on the floor, arms spread and head staring at the ceiling.
"You're angry?"
It wasn't really a question, more like a statement. The lark answered anyhow.
"I can't stand grouping weaklings. Especially cowards like those Mareggiata. And it's even more annoying if I consider the fact that it was partially during my shift."
The blonde rolled his eyes.
"If it's concerning this town and its peace... then you're always on duty."
He turned onto his stomach and watched his former student. Resting his chin on his palms, he observed the involuntary twitching of the his left eyebrow and the tensing of his lips. Hibari was evidently wrought-up and the Mafia leader liked to believe that, for once, it had nothing to do with his obsession over Namimori. Anything remotely close or at least related to human feelings was good.
"So, what now?"
"About Mareggiata?"
"About Chrome."
And the Japanese man thought for a brief moment.
"Do you even want me to answer or do you prefer to attack me again?"
To be honest, the Cavallone was truly weighing up the pros and cons. Ultimately deciding that another assault would lead to his premature doom, he pillowed his head on his folded arms. Also, he had a reputation to maintain.
"I'm passionate, leave me be."
The line between being passionate and being retarded must be a thin one, established the Cloud and massaged the bridge of his nose. The stupid horse was rolling around like a mentally challenged cat in heat and he was slowl- oh. Fuck. No wonder people assumed they were gay!
"If you're interested in the details about the Mareggiata, address Sawada Tsunayoshi. He'll have the documents by tomorrow," he grunted and added, "And sit properly."
"Nah, I think it's time for me to leave anyway. I guess I'll stop at the hospital to offer my help to Tsuna." A sly smirk. "And look how Chrome's doing. Don't expect me to inform you, though!"
And Hibari was unbelievable tempted to hurl the long candle holder after his retreating figure but he couldn't risk to burn his own house down. The rice-paper walls would be more than willing to turn into crisps. Still. The mere thought was satisfying.
He yawned and stood up, picking the book up while walking towards his bedroom. He met Kusakabe on his way.
"Kyou-san, I talked to Romario-san. He told me some interesting things. Apparently, the Mareggiata is very close to an old Yakuza gang. And even though the Mareggiata famiglia knows basically nothing about honour and doesn't really understand the concept of Vendetta, those Yakuza people do. They're extremely traditional."
Crossing his arms, the Guardian gave him a bored look.
"A warning?"
"No, of course not! Merely, an advice."
He returned into his office and Hibari continued his way to the bedroom. Obviously, those idiots were really weak. And the Yakuza were nothing to worry about either because their tradition was nothing more than consigned dressage. Some left over etiquette from their ancestors and easily forgotten if confronted with overwhelming power.
They wouldn't stand a chance.
This was war.
And he was going to crush whoever opposed him.
The sky was a dark navy blue and the lights of the city glittered from far. Only a limited number of stars could be spotted and the rising moon was constantly hidden behind glowing curtains of clouds. A cold breeze. Fog dancing over the ground.
Everything was a reminder of the night he had slept with Chrome Dokuro. Sitting on the cold wood, Hibari enjoyed the silence his garden provided and, even though he was a man who always faced the future and didn't believe in turning back, he wanted to dwell in the past, if only for a few moments. Just a bit.
He remembered her innocent face. Insecurity had been written all over her features while he had pressed her into the soft bed, looming over her and hands busy to get rid of her rosé top.
Another memory.
Soaked, rain pouring down onto her petite frame and she looked almost lost on the Shrine grounds.
And another one.
Her purple dress, accidentally riding up and showing the pale skin of her thighs. She had talked to Yamamoto Takashi and Sasagawa Ryohei, smiled at the waiter and evaded the piercing stare of Rokudo Mukuro before running away to the bathroom.
And... another one.
Pale skin, running nose and bloodshot eye. That nasal voice of hers had been pathetically amusing. Still, she had followed him to the stairs, feet bare and nightgown wrinkled.
"Does... does Hibari-san beliefhe in lofhe?"
Someone called his name and he whirled around to see Kusakabe running towards him. Panting heavily, he stayed inside, knelt down and bowed, forehead touching the tatami mats.
"Kyou-san, Sawada-san called! It's about Chrome-san's condition."
And for one moment, Hibari allowed himself to hold his breath.
Their heads snapped up upon the opening of a door. The overpowering Sky rushed in, face serious and downcast, obviously deep in thought. Realizing the other presences, he looked up, bewildered.
"You guys..."
He blinked. Tired faces and bags under their eyes.
"Just how long have you been here?"
Talking to a wall. They weren't even listening. Only staring at him in anticipation. And it was all too much and they were unable to contain their fears and worries any more, any longer, so:
"Finally Tsuna! How is Chrome?"
"How's Dokuro doing, Juudaime?"
"A-about Chrome-san. Is she fine?"
"I demand to hear what's going on to the extreme!"
And all at once, he had tears in the corners of his eyes but he wiped them away brusquely. This was the Vongola. This was his famiglia. His trusted, beloved family. He recompensed them with a sigh of relief.
"Her condition is stable. Chrome's over the worst."
And they were all allowed to breathe once again.
On the day Kuromu Dokuro was born, there had been peace.
She was born into an environment sustained by liars and illusions and Mukuro-sama bestowed her with the gift of creating mirages, making her own lies. And she was fine with that. Until she met the lark.
Because lying was her ultimate forte. And lying she did.
In a world full of lies.
But his blunt honesty was a rejection and his words sharp like knives.
And suddenly, she wasn't quite sure anymore.
What was peace?
And had it ever existed at all?
Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated.