Type of Present Fanfiction (one-shot)
Characters/Pairings 6927 (Rokudo Mukuro/Sawada Tsunayoshi)
Word Count 3.519
Rating PG-13 Genre Comfort/Romance/Waffy
Warning Mentions character death, but nothing depressing, I swear!
Note to greyxx : Sorry I'm late, dearest! My family has strict rules about using a computer during "Family Time", so I had to wait until I was back to work to submit my present, at last. Since you said you like all27 (just like me, I was so HYPER when I found out *-*) and I felt like writing a heart warming MukuTsuna (because they usually go all angsty xD), here it is! (I was going to give you lots of icons, but I moved and lost my Photoshop ._.). I hope you like it, 'cause I wrote it for you~! MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Note to everyone: Thank you for reading! Enjoy it and Happy Holidays! And sorry about the errors you'll find here, because I had to proofread it myself...
Sighting, the young mafioso stepped back and rested against the cold wall behind him. He hadn’t had that dream for some time, now. Actually, he could remember precisely when the last time he had seen himself inside that elevator was: in the night before his fifteenth birthday, almost a year ago. Hard to forget, since the nightmare destroyed his mood for the party his friends had prepared and Gokudera-kun kept nagging him until he lost it and locked himself in the bathroom.
After that, his nights became peaceful, and he almost, almost forgot about it. Until now, that is. Maybe that was the point.
If he remembered it well, the elevator would go up until the panel showed “eighty-eight” in bright green digital numbers. Then, the doors would open soundlessly to a long, white corridor, with only one huge door at the end. There would be someone standing alone in that place and, like always, Tsuna would cringe at the sight.
Banging the back of his head against the steel where he was resting his body, the teen cursed, not for the first time, the fact he had absolutely no control over that dream. It never changed, no matter what. Also, Tsuna couldn’t wake up before the end of it and, boy, he tried doing that innumerous times since he was fourteen and started the whole thing.
The movement stopped slowly and Tsuna breathed in, preparing himself. Even if he had had that dream countless times, every time it felt like waking up in a coffin.
Straitening up himself, Tsuna waited for the metallic doors to move, with resignation, and glanced to the side. The following moment, his mouth hanged open, watching the elevator’s panel incredulously. Two digits glared back from the small screen, one seven beside the other.
Okay, that was strange. Tsuna looked around, but nothing had changed: the walls were still gray the buttons were still too many; the carpet was still soft under his bare feet. Yup, just like always.
But the floor was wrong. Not only the floor – something was wrong in the general picture. He could feel it, prickling behind the neck, going down his spine, almost like… Almost…
The doors opened, vagarously, and Tsuna’s mouth clicked shut. Brown eyes widened and he was beyond surprised to see someone else – someone who never appeared there, then – staring back.
“Oya, Sawada Tsunayoshi-kun. Unexpected, to find you here”. A pair of mismatched eyes blinked owlishly before closing in an amused secretive smile. “But a pleasure, nonetheless”.
“What the hell are you doing in my dream?”, Tsuna exclaimed in his usual manner.
Rokudo Mukuro opened his eyes again. His blue orb glinted with curiosity, but the red one glowed in mystery and danger. “Your dream, you say”, the older teen commented, as a matter of fact. “Do you even know where is this, Tsunayoshi-kun?”
Tsuna suddenly remembered the elevator, the white corridor and where it would lead to. He crossed his slim arms over his chest and sighed.
“The Millefiore italian headquarters. That’s where we are”. His answer sounded somewhat weak, even to his own ears. Mukuro cocked his head to the side.
“Yes. But why would Tsunayoshi-kun dream about this place?”
The Tenth Vongola boss almost cringed, but controlled the urge in time. Even so, he unconsciously braced himself. Mukuro noticed immediately.
“Well, why would you dream about it, Mukuro?”. That was a defensive answer, and they both knew it. Good thing Mukuro was feeling merciful that night… Day? Whatever.
“Oh. You see, Tsunayoshi-kun, hell is conveniently timeless. I can remember every time I die.”
The illusionist moved his gloved hand to point behind him with his thumb. For the first time since the elevator had stopped, Tsuna cared to look behind his Mist Guardian. Now he could see the corridor, as white and lonely as the one in the eighty-eight floor was. But the double doors at the end where wide open, revealing a room full of sunlight and broken furniture.
“You died… There?”, Tsuna asked, listening to the wind that came flying from the broken windows.
Mukuro’s dark bangs danced over his strange smile, but he didn’t answer. The two teens stared at each other unblinking for the time it took for the metallic doors to close. Tsuna didn’t move while Mukuro’s figure disappeared behind the steel, the wind still blowing through his hair. Soon enough, the younger boy could only see the crimson eye smiling on the other side and, for a moment, Tsunayoshi hoped he wouldn’t have to climb the last eleven floors alone.
He didn’t know what to think when the red orb didn’t vanish from the other side of the cabin, though.
“Now I am curious. Where are you going all alone, Sawada Tsunayoshi-kun?”
Mukuro had put his trident between the doors, and stepped elegantly inside the elevator when it opened again. He stood there, tall and confident, while the doors closed and the cabin started to go up again.
Tsuna looked away first. “You should have stayed there, Mukuro”.
The italian chuckled softly and moved to rest his right hand beside Tsuna’s head. The young Mafioso frowned when his guardian – and most dangerous enemy, if he really thought about it – closed the distance to watch him in the same eye level.
Humming thoughtfully, Mukuro used his free hand to smooth the frown over the restless brown eyes. The gesture made Tsuna feel alarmed and comforted at the same time. Which was strange and controversial.
“You asked me to come with you.”
“Wha--! No, I didn’t!”, Tsuna blushed and looked down.
Laughing quietly, Mukuro moved again to stand beside the Tenth Vongola. Tsuna wondered briefly if his Mist Guardian smelled like vanilla, or if it was an illusion, too. Well, it didn’t matter. The scent calmed him down and he liked it.
The elevator stopped again. This time, the panel showed the dreaded right numbers.
“What secrets are you keeping here, I wonder?”
Tsuna laughed humorlessly and straightened himself again. The doors opened fluidly.
“It’s no secret, which is just my luck.”
When the bright corridor appeared, Mukuro choose to watch his companion instead of the new place before them. He observed how Tsunayoshi’s face showed his distress, and how his tired eyes trailed firmly something beyond the elevator.
Heterochromic eyes turned to discover what the boy was seeing, and found a person, dressed in black, walking down the pristine white corridor. Tsuna left the cabin. Mukuro followed. The doors closed behind them like a silent guillotine.
A cell phone ringed through the walls and the person fished the device from his back pocket.
Tsuna knew that voice – listened to it every day.
“Yes, I made sure. Hayato stayed in Naminori, and Takeshi has orders to go back as soon as he can.”
There was silence while the man listened to the phone. “Am I right to think that person there is Tsunayoshi-kun?”, Mukuro asked amid the quietness, calmly.
The man continued his conversation like he hadn’t heard the question. “Ryohei brought me here, Lambo stayed home”. A pause. “Of course I couldn’t bring him, he is just a child”.
Another minute of silence. The man looked like a statue, his back turned from the pair of watchers.
“That’s the Vongola Decimo from eight years in the future. Or, at least, he was. I hope things are different now”, Tsuna answered, whispering even though he knew no one but Mukuro could hear his words.
“I hoped you knew where Mukuro is.”
Tsuna turned quickly to the right, running away from Mukuro’s gaze.
“I think he understood it, but I’m not sure. And he is just as unpredictable as you”. The man stopped to talk abruptly and laughed. “I don’t think you’ll have a chance to do that in a near future, Kyouya”.
Still attaching the phone to his right ear, twenty-five years old Sawada Tsunayoshi walked to the side and rested his back against the wall. Seventeen years old Tsuna couldn’t help but notice, once more, the differences and similarities.
The hair had the same color and length he had right now, and was as wild as ever. His face, however, had lost all the baby fat that plagued him even now and became more refined, elegant. He had grown taller, but his build kept the same.
The real change, though, was the look.
His eyes seemed sharper, like a sword glinting in the fire. There was a flame burning slowly behind those brown orbs, and Tsuna didn’t want to know what would happen if it freed itself.
“I will definitely wait for you to become like that before I possess your body, Vongola”. Mukuro’s voice sounded pleased and predatory. Tsuna sighed.
“I lack the courage. Probably.”
Smiling, the other teen walked down the corridor.
“We’ll see about that, Vongola”, Mukuro stated. “By the way, you learned to call them all by their given names. I’m jealous”.
Rolling his eyes, the Don-to-be stepped toward his guardian. (He had been waiting the innuendos for a while, now).
“Think of it as a favor. If everything goes according to my wishes, I’ll pay you back, someday”, the older Tsuna talked to the phone, an amused smile resting on his lips. It didn’t last long: the suit-clad body stiffened almost visible for a second, before his handsome face adopted a neutral expression. “That’s all. Good luck. Not that you need it, I guess”.
The Vongola boss closed his cell phone the same moment the immaculate doors at the end opened. On the other side, a man dressed in white waited, displaying a bright smile with closed eyes.
“Did I kept you waiting, Tsunayoshi-kun?”
Tsuna unconsciously clenched Mukuro’s wrist when his older self walked to Byakuran, hands hidden inside his pockets and eyes carefully empty.
“Ah~. This guy is too much like me for his own good. I can’t help but hate him”, Mukuro commented, sweetly. Tsuna looked at him, thoughtful, never having given much thought about it, and suddenly seeing the raw truth in that statement: his Mist Guardian and the leader of Millefiore did have many common points. They were both very polite, smiling while saying things like “I’ll kill your friends” or “I’ll possess your body”. Not to mention the whole God Complex thing.
Maybe they were soul mates?
“Byakuran-san”, the older Tsuna answered, nodding his distant greeting. “I just got here”.
The white haired mafia boss kept smiling. “You came here by yourself, Tsunayoshi-kun?”
“I thought that was the condition for this meeting to happen?”, was Tsuna’s neutral answer.
The dreaming Tsuna wondered when he would be able to act like that. Right now, he was still terrified of his future and his title as Vongola Juudaime. He was also afraid of not meeting Reborn’s expectatives.
“From what I heard about the Vongola, that would hardly matter.”
“From what I know about the Millefiore, it really wouldn’t.”
Both bosses stared at each other – Byakuran with his face splitting smile, Tsunayoshi with a blank expression. Almost a minute later, they both turned ahead and walked into the room. Double doors closed slowly behind them.
“Aren’t you going to enter?”, Mukuro asked, letting curiosity color his voice.
Tsuna closed his eyes painfully. “I know what is going to happen. I saw it… Before.”
Mukuro hummed again and moved to watch his future body closely. His quick frown went unnoticed by Tsuna, whose eyes stayed closed. “Well, I haven’t seen anything, so, Tsunayoshi-kun won’t mind if I watch it?”
Brown eyes snapped open and the italian teen recognized that look instantly. It was the look of someone who had something to protect. He just couldn’t understand what, exactly, those eyes wanted to shelter. “I’d rather you didn’t”.
“Oya~, what are you afraid of, boss?”. That title, coming form Mukuro’s mouth, sounded like a pet name. “A dream will only affect you as much as you permit it”. That said, the taller boy turned to walk towards the scene behind the doors.
“This is not a dream, Mukuro.”
Tsuna’s answer was not enough to stop Mukuro’s resolve. The Mist Guardian went through the wooden barrier like a ghost and was greeted with the vision of a vast, spartan room. It had titanic glass windows showing the morning sky, and the only furniture inside were a pair of large white poltroons.
Byakuran’s obsession with the white color was overall irritating.
The Vongola Decimo sat calmly at the right sofa, showing no emotion in his posture or in his face. The Millefiore boss sat in the poltroon in front of his guest’s, wearing his traditional fox smile.
Sixteen years old Sawada Tsunayoshi followed his guardian sometime after. He was not in a hurry to watch that once more.
“I’m listening”, twenty-five years old Tsunayoshi stated firmly. His enemy laughed.
“No idle talk, Tsunayoshi-kun?”
The Juudaime’s piercing look maintained its strength. “Unfortunately, Byakuran-san, the only subjects I have to discuss with Millefiore involve my family and my allies dying all around the world”, he deadpanned, looking strangely threatening in his immobility. “I’m afraid that would make an uncomfortable conversation”.
Byakuran opened his eyes for the first time since the beginning of the exchange between the bosses.
“Really”, the question sounded as an affirmation. “Well, I don’t think I have anything to talk at all, Tsunayoshi-kun. Actions speak better than words”.
Tsuna wondered how his future self could keep his cool after that answer. Their enemy had just subtly mentioned Millefiore extermination attacks.
“I’ll talk, then”, the older Decimo retorted. “Vongola offers a truce”.
Faking surprise, Byakuran rested his cheek against his right hand. The Mare Ring shone in daylight. “Ah… That’s a first. I thought the Vongola Famiglia never backs down?”
Tsunayoshi dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. Mukuro noticed that the man wasn’t wearing any ring at all, be it Vongola or not. “We are not. We are offering Millefiore a truce. To fight against your omniscience is tiring.”
Then, Byakuran started to laugh. Rokudo’s smile became more and more strained at the sound, while younger Tsuna recoiled and his older alter ego stayed calm. “You are so funny, Tsunayoshi-kun! I didn’t know you had a sense of humor!”
“Contrary to what you think, there are things even you don’t know about.”
The laugh stopped.
“I can’t disagree. Either way, I know more than you do, Vongola Decimo.”
As soon as those words left his lips, five figures appeared behind Byakuran, wearing black coats. Tsunayoshi seemed unfazed by the sudden new comers, but Mukuro didn’t like to notice he had missed the illusion concealing them.
“Don’t worry about it. This memory is seen by my eyes, not yours; the Vongola Decimo was expecting it, so he chose not to waste time looking for illusions.”
“If he was expecting it, why did he come alone?”
Silence was the only reply Tsuna had for that question. Mukuro wore the strangest smile he had.
“So these are the real Funeral Wreaths, I suppose?”, Decimo asked, still calm.
Still conformed and hopeful at the same time.
“Oh? So you knew the others were fakes?”, Tsunayoshi arched his chestnut eyebrows in answer. Byakuran laughed, again. “You are really something, Tsunayoshi-kun. It’s a pity I cannot tame you”.
Five hands appeared from the cloaked Funeral Wreaths, each one of them holding a gun.
“Unfortunately, you don’t have anything I need, right now”. Bullets were loaded.
“Are you going to make even that little girl over there shot?”, Tsunayoshi asked, staring unblinking at his enemies.
Byakuran smiled again. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”. Tsuna kept staring. “Oh, well, then”.
The doors opened once behind the two dreamers. From the corridor, many soldiers, dressed like angels and carrying weapons, entered the illuminated room. All of them took place around the Vongola Juudaime, pointing their guns at him and ready to shot. As always, Tsuna noticed Irie Shouichi standing behind the men, his serious face betraying nothing.
“This will fit your tastes better, I guess”, Byakuran proceeded. “Any last words?”
To Mukuro’s surprise, the two Tsunayoshis sighed at the same time. “This is our last offer, Byakuran-san. Truce, or retaliation.”
Laughing, the small army waited for the final order. Tsunayoshi sighed once more, moving swiftly to rest his back on the sofa. With his feet firm on the floor and both hands over the armrests, twenty-five years old Sawada Tsunayoshi was the very image of the mafia Don he had became.
“Peace is no fun if it’s not my peace, Tsunayoshi-kun.”
Brown orbs bathed in golden glow, but the Tenth stayed still. “Be prepared”.
“But of course, Tsunayoshi-kun”. Byakuran looked up from his sitting place and locked eyes with Shouichi, smirking. The Millefiore scientist understood his cue and pointed his gun up, aiming Tsuna’s general thorax region.
Byakuran offered his enemy a sweet smile. He raised his right arm as a signal to the white soldiers.
Tsuna waited for the dreaded moment when dozens of bullets would pierce through his body, painting the floor and the ceiling and the big windows with fresh, red blood. A symphony of weapons and inevitability.
But it never came.
Instead of his death – the one that made him wake up inside a flower filled coffin, once – he saw a field. Vast, green, touching the sky in the distance of the horizon, and breathtaking beautiful.
“Why do you dream about that?”
Distracted by the beauty of that place, the brunet was surprised to hear that voice coming from behind. Tsuna turned to see Mukuro looking away, into the morning sky he had created.
“One of the many things I brought from the future, I guess. I don’t know why, either, but maybe someone thought it would act like some kind of reminder.”
Mukuro kept his gaze in the sky.
“Do you watch it until the end, Tsunayoshi?”
The lack of formality made the question even more piercing. Tsuna smiled warily, eyebrows furrowed. “Every time”.
Wind soared through the dream field, rustling the green Kokuyo Gakuen uniform and the long, dark bangs framing that handsome face. Mukuro’s head moved down slowly, so he could lock his indigo and crimson eyes into Tsuna’s warm ones.
“Ever since I met you, I decided that you were mine to use. Being mine, only I have the right to distress you. For some reason, though, people insist on making you… Stray”. Tsuna blinked, Mukuro stared. “There are things I cannot reach yet, because I am chained. But this”, the older boy opened his arms wide, embracing his whole scenario, “this is my world. I will not let anything twist you here, not even yourself”.
The breeze traveled into Tsuna’s blue pajamas and made him aware of the soft grass under his feet. He thought that, behind the infuriating possessiveness, what his guardian said had been somewhat warming.
Mukuro walked until he was at arm reach. From that distance the italian looked even taller.
“From now on, every time you dream that, come here.”
Grinning, Tsuna looked to his sides, still mesmerized by the vivid colors jumping at his eyes. Yes, he would like to hide here from the bullets and the spilling blood. “You brought me here, Mukuro. I don’t know how to come by myself.”
Locking his eyes with the smaller boy’s, the illusionist wore his most charming smile – the one that made people trust him. Tsuna couldn’t believe in that smile. But could, and always would, believe in their determination.
“I’ll teach you my shortcut.”
Long gloved fingers ghosted over Tsuna’s shoulders before Mukuro grabbed then lightly and pulled him forward. The boy watched, startled, Mukuro’s head descend slowly, his cupid shaped mouth closing the gap.
It wasn’t exactly a kiss. At least not the kind of kiss Haru and Bianchi talked about, giggling and sighting. No dizziness, no fireworks, no epiphany. Nonetheless, there was a whole orchestra of butterflies soaring in his stomach. Those lips touched the corner of his mouth. It lasted just one second and an entire existence.
“I fail to see how this is going to be a guide.”
Mukuro laughed half-heartedly and walked away.
“Oya, you’ll see. Think about it when you feel lost”, the teen waved, his body slowly becoming part of the scene. “Maybe you will find a yellow brick road”.
Since Tsuna never read the “Wizard of Oz”, he couldn’t understand the joke. However, he later discovered that, whenever he could maintain his conscience inside his dreams, if he thought about the almost kiss, his mind would be instantly teleported to that beautiful, safe scenario.
And Tsuna found himself wishing Mukuro would appear someday, again, so he could thank the illusionist for giving him peace of mind.
His soaring butterflies longed to fly over that green field, though.