OH HEY KHR AGAIN! WHAT A SURPRISE!

[wrecking_yard]

Fandom: KHR
Summary: Mukuro around when Spade kidnapped Chrome
Warnings: Not a whole lot, Mukuro being a brat, the random 8th Gen thunder guardian.



“I don't know; Ken said he's the one who's been leaving food here, but – I don't like the way he was watching me.” Chrome was curled up in the corner of a canopy bed, hugging an oversized stuffed rabbit, back to both the carved wooden pole and the wall, one knee drawn up close to her; the room was ornate and archaic, a fairy-tale redo of photos and half-remembered fragments from when she'd been tiny and struggling to stay close to her mother's ankle's on some kind of vacation tour of an ornate old castle in Europe.

Mukuro had settled lounging casually in the velvet of the chair next to the bed; the only door in the room was a sliding glass door onto a small, underground flower garden, lit by a crystal in the ceiling, and he had his back to that, but could easily see the full-length-mirror that was the actual “entrance”. Really the setting and how far she'd retreated into her own constructs when she'd flagged him down in her sleep said more about how agitated she was than any body language ever could. There was a thread through her reaction of something she was more hyper-aware of than he was by necessity; unaccompanied young girls drew the eyes of far more casual predators than would ever act on the attention, and avoiding giving them openings took being wary of those undertones in anyone's behavior, knowing the shading between the ones that thought of themselves as too respectable for more than “accidental” contact on a subway and the ones with more claws and less pretending at morals.

And the shade between either of those and the big predators that would be less interested in personal entertainment – usually weighing if a girl was desperate enough for prostitution rather than how likely she was to yield to pressure from someone buying lunch, but in their position, there were things more dangerous, and that tier of undertones from someone that knew who she was spoke to that angle. “Everybody seems to be getting along with the others, though... Tsuna-kun seems to really like Cozarto-san.”

“Takeshi?” The one name-question was casual. There were patterns outside of what the Intuition would read; he knew Tsuna's senses would read 'not an enemy' on people that were 'threat that didn't want to be there', and it didn't seem like Tsuna was experienced enough to read the nuance yet as more than confusion and self-doubt anxiety.

“He's been at baseball practice with Mizuno-san, and really seems to like him.” She gave a helpless shrug; Mukuro frowned, finger along his chin. “He'd offered for Mizuno-san to visit his home after practice, and to meet around the field on days outside practice.”

Mukuro's nose wrinkled; Chrome stayed quiet, waiting. “Well, he might be relaxing his guard and comfortable.” He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, leaning his chin in his hand entirely. “Or he could be thinking the man can be swayed away from someone pulling strings, or he could be trying to keep him close enough to find out what's really going on.” He gave one of the wooden posts the tired, irritated look of a sopping cat that was dripping soap, letting out a slow breath. “Or some combination of any of that.”

There were times he would've sworn the Rain Guardian can't have been a straight Rain flame and still be that underhanded and good at the mundane kind of illusions, just based on the boy's behavior.

“What do you want me to do?” She was still curled around the rabbit, looking rattled and lost.

“Keep avoiding Katou Julie, keep your eyes open, and be as harmless, clueless, and nonthreatening as you can; if I try to work through you or watch too much, it would likely draw attention.”



Yamamoto's injury had thrown the entire situation from “something isn't right” to high alert; he knew better than to fall for the Rain Guardian's idiot act, but for him to get injured like that and leave a message -

It was likely that Takeshi had tried to get clever and investigate something without drawing attention and found whatever he was looking for, but the boy with reflexes that good enough to go a few rounds with Reborn going down without a fight spoke to both someone somehow getting the drop on him, and probably someone that was already estimating him as a threat – which meant someone outside had gotten enough of a read to recognize him as a threat that would be likely to figure out their plans, and that someone had ambushed him.

He didn't feel confident about sneaking up on Takeshi on illusions alone, there weren't many other illusionists around, which left probably someone he didn't expect to attack him like that...

And under the circumstances, that filled in plenty for Mukuro to feel confident that he knew where the attack had come from, and put together what Yamamoto's gamble had been.

Reborn had asked Chrome to make it look like Yamamoto was present; she'd had a momentary panic tugging on the link asking him for help. He'd responded with his perception of the Rain Guardian to answer why that was a bad idea – it was a collection of all of the between moments when Takeshi thought nobody was looking, parts of times like the Rain Battle for the rings when he was focused on something enough to be unable to keep up his acts, something that wasn't a friendly idiot obsessed with baseball but definitely did make sense as “Vongola Rain Guardian” - less harmless and fluffy, more something that could turn into a torrential hurricane with perfect control and little warning.

Chrome agreed that Mukuro's nerves about Takeshi would make him probably very bad at anyone else buying his illusion.

Unfortunately she had the instinct to lean on him when she was unsure, and keeping up that intricate of an illusion around that many dangerous people had her very unsure, and it was too easy for him to reflexively let her lean; in order to avoid accidentally interfering, he had to keep flattened back, actively focused on avoiding more than the minimal contact needed to keep her alive. It was harder for a moment when she had a sudden spike of her confidence almost vanishing, then it stabilized before he could really do more than try to patch over a little bit of power to compensate while trying to stay too blind to interfere; the most explanation he got was something vague about Squallo and Mammon and the impression he should be thanking the Varia illusionist for whatever he did to settle her nerves, even if she still wasn't sure how to respond to it.

One minute there was nothing more than the normal, expected nerves about the affair and the Ninth and everything; the next, there was a sharp flash of pain and alarm and nothing.

Not unconsciousness, not backlash, just nothing; like fumbling for a piece of black cloth in a pitch dark room – the line was there, but completely blacked out, and there wasn't even that looming sense of active interruption that'd happened when she was missing in the future.... which meant something was actively interfering with forethought and control.
One thing about the Vendicare is that it screwed with sense of time; he knew he was clawing at whatever it was, trying to find a way around it, for a while, but he wasn't sure how long.

He couldn't get anything as clear from the others he had tagged without directly taking over; Bianchi was away, uninvolved, and unaware, Gokudera was running on high alert and agitated, and Hibari was – focused on something and his usual ball of knives; he was seriously debating trying to take over to find out what was going on, if it was worth the effort, and how much he'd disrupt whatever was going on that was probably focused on whatever had happened.

But there were a few avenues that should know something that he still had – the Varia had people there and kept in close communication, and with the Ninth and everything there, the headquarters had to be paying close attention.

Finding out what word had reached the Varia seemed safer than headquarters – and easier to guarantee he'd get around someone who'd say something.

It was late afternoon in Italy, which made it near midnight in Japan – it'd taken longer than he liked already. The ambient chatter around the Varia headquarters mostly wasn't anything he couldn't have guessed; the Simon had attacked the ceremony, one of the Tenth Gen had been kidnapped, people in Japan were busy organizing a rescue...

And Xanxus was holed up drinking and refusing to say a word about any of it, and had apparently put a lot of energy into being very loud about not wanting anything to do with the ceremony and sulking over not getting the inheritance, even to the point of bitching Squalo out to not contact him for any reason until it was over.

That raised five hundred red flags to Mukuro; Xanxus wanting to claim the position of the Tenth was one thing, but the Varia leader was not tactically dumb, and there was a great deal at stake riding on that inheritance, particularly when he was sending his own people to attend. As moody as the bastard was, this wasn't just a normal mood swing; Xanxus knew something, and Xanxus knowing pointed directions Mukuro didn't like.

It really wasn't hard to take over running a couple of bottles of alcohol up to where the leader was holed up; the person he'd had the duty was more than happy to pass it off and vanish – Xanxus in a bad mood was not a fun thing to approach. There was a gun on him as soon as he entered the door.

“What are you doing here?”

Well, it wasn't like he really expected to get much past any competent sky flame anymore. Judging by the number of bottles around and that some hadn't been opened yet, he suspected that regularly bringing something else up was more of an appeasement formality than Xanxus actively ordering it anymore; just assume and run the delivery before he asks when he's too irritable.

“I need information that I can't get in Japan.” He was perfectly calm, civil, and stepping a step or two sideways from where the image of him was, careful to try to keep most of his flame centered on the image.

“Fuck off. I've got nothing to do with it.” Xanxus slouched in the chair, not lowering the gun, but going into feigning half-sleep just to punctuate that he wasn't interested in talking.

Mukuro considered; odds were good that almost anything direct would get flat ignored, he'd need something that would get any kind of reaction he could read, verbal or non. If Xanxus knew something then Xanxus probably knew about the Simon somewhere; most of them were young and seemed isolated from politics, it would have to be someone that'd been around without being noticed -

And that left one gamble.

“Would you happen to know anything about an illusionist.... red hair, short beard, glasses, very odd red eyes?”

The moment that passed from slouching and grumpy silence to something tensing and a half-flicker of him almost reacting lasted a few beats too long, a too-still pause of Xanxus stifling any other reaction.

Then the half-full bottle that'd been hanging in Xanxus's other hand was shattering on the wall behind him on his right, the other side from his image, and there was a gunshot wreathed in Wrath Flames that passed close enough to his actual ear that he was pretty sure the host was going to have slightly shorter hair on that side.

He left that host before there was any further reaction; that had definitely answered his question.





Knowing who he was up against did not help his dislike of the entire situation; it'd obviously been something the Primo-Gen Mist user had planned and set up well ahead of time, particularly since he'd apparently had that host for years, and definitely long enough that he doubted most of the man's own group knew it wasn't the person it looked like. If he jumped, he'd be jumping into someone where he wasn't sure he could use their abilities as well as they could, and him possessing one of the others would disrupt Tsuna's group or interrupt Hibari's own plotting; it was a horrible time to not have an alternate host nearby.... but even if he had an alternate host handy, they would be an easy target the moment Spade realized where he was.

And he was realizing he knew distressingly little about who he was up against; the First Generation mist guardian, the “Traitor” that'd murdered the First and yet had appeared when called in the now-deterred future... distorted stories passed down and things that Spade had let through....

But he did know one person who knew Spade personally, for all that it'd never been openly said.

He jumped to the other teenager in Italy, with a thankful moment that the boy'd apparently gotten a small apartment to himself. The sun was rising; he'd lost time again in transition and trying to sort his thoughts. He didn't take anything resembling a normal, visible route to Renee's home, instead sneaking in through the back garden, confirming that yes, the boy did have a house key to the back door, and slipping in quietly.

He caught Renee in the kitchen at the small table, and there was a flicker of gunmetal disappearing under the table once he'd moved into view; the old man had less of his usual blank amusement act than normal.

“He attacked the Inheritance Ceremony. He has Chrome.”, Mukuro said flatly.

Renee paused, processing, and for a moment passed through the reflex to feign ignorance before he dropped the amused-idiot act entirely, shoulders sagging tiredly and leaning more on the table. “Are you sure it's him specifically, and not a pawn?”

“It's the same host he was using to manipulate Xanxus, and I can't sense anything of her.”

Renee tilted his head, squinting for a moment and half-mouthing something with a hand raised, then sank back to keeping his arms crossed on the table. “I never was sure how much could be done with that; Morris used to talk about catching bits occasionally, that he was agitated somehow, and trying to tug at him to come back, but it was hard to tell from what he said if he was unable to communicate more than that or if Daemon was intentionally shutting him out.”

Morris – on document as their mist guardian, and Spade's host at the time; Mukuro tapped fingers on one folded arm. It was the first time Renee had said anything open about the subject.

The old man sighed. “I suppose if he's moving like this, then that should tell plenty, but … do you know if he's done anything to Tim?” The question was weary, and tinged with something uncertain and hard to pin down.

Mukuro started to answer – he hadn't heard anything horrible happening to the Ninth – but then, he hadn't heard anything period, and it was bad business to act on an assumption. He glanced around the room, spotting a phone on a side table, and went for that; he knew Reborn's number, and dialed it ignoring the brief, furrowed frown Renee had watching.

There were a couple of rings before the answer; Reborn picked up with a very simple “'mhere” that was more tired and worried-sounding than he'd ever heard the Arcabaleno.

“It's Mukuro.”

That got a beat and when Reborn spoke again it was much more … normal composure and professional tone, if urgent. “How much do you know?”

“I know Chrome's been kidnapped and that the Simon attacked; how much else do you think I know?” If Spade was avoiding them knowing he was there, tipping Spade's hand would probably push the older illusionist to do something even more drastic.

Another pause where he was pretty sure in person the Arcabaleno would've been tugging his hat down to cover a moment of the pending-migraine expression.

“The rings were broken. The man who originally made them did something to salvage, but they're in a half-state right now and if they aren't brought back exactly right, they'll be past repair. They've left a challenge to go after them on an island off the map; the Ninth is taking us out there on a boat with backup just in case – but the demands are for the Tenth Generation and myself to go alone once we get there.”

“Then the Ninth wasn't harmed?”

“ - No; there was a feint his Guardians blocked easily, but it was a distraction from the attack on Tsuna and the others.”

Mukuro hissed through his teeth; there was static starting to weave into the call. “Is there anything else that stood out?”

“Besides Xanxus acting odd? I'm -” Static overtook a couple words. “as you; something was-” - More static - “ames the-”, and it spiked out again.

Which was likely something jamming, and meant he wouldn't know when he could get into contact again - “It's Daemon Spade – can you hear me?”

Static had completely overtaken the call, which went dead a moment after; there wasn't much he could do but hope the Arcabaleno had caught enough of that to recognize the name. He caught himself hissing again as he hung up the phone. Renee was waiting, more serious than most would've thought the man was capable of.

“The Ninth is fine – nothing more than a feint his direction; he's damaged the rings, possibly destroyed them, and he's cornering himself in some kind of trap for the Tenth.” Mukuro knew that particular pattern all too well; the rings were the only reason the old bastard was still around, if they died, he died with them.

Renee groanded softly, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head slowly. “Gods, Rosa....” There was a long pause, the old Guardian shifting back upright, taking off his glasses to bury his face in his hands, then replacing them to fold his hands in front of him again. “Whatever happened that had your girl and the others missing must have set him off badly.”

“It was complicated; it involved a possible future where the Tri-ni-Sette was badly damaged and someone was using them to turn the world to ruin.” There was an angle clearly there – figure out what set him off and why.

Renee shook his head. “Old hat; if our generation was any indication, that alone would be more likely to drive him to cooperate. It would have to be something personal; what was the state of the Vongola?”

“...Dying out; the Tsunayoshi of that timeline had destroyed the Vongola Rings to take away a reason for conflict, and it had left the Vongola vulnerable to the Millefiore.”

Renee grimaced. “Well, that would explain part of it, but not him letting the rings come to harm; he has – issues about 'weakness', and if destroying them weakened the Vongola...” He rolled a hand in the air.

...The rings. “Something called out the spirits within the rings – enough for Primo to manifest; he removed the last of the bindings he'd left on the rings before his death, and loaned power to Tsunayoshi. He agreed to things at the time, but was … snide about the ideals.”

That was met with a wince. “I hadn't known there were bindings on the ring – Daniela used to swear at and argue with hers, occasionally, but all that told me was Rosa dearest wasn't the only one still around, and that she was butting heads with her grandfather.” Renee frowned, the brief bit of reminisce passing. “He hated Giotto – I never did learn why; the only one who might've known was Daniela, and whatever she might've known was private between them. It was bad enough that we'd always suspected he was responsible for the Seventh's death – her father – and that if she hadn't shown up in Italy with claws bared right when she walked in the door, and we hadn't had Mussolini breathing down all of our necks so he couldn't afford the infighting, he likely would've killed her, too, before she had a chance to bring him to heel.”

Mukuro had a flat, calm pause processing the pieces. Primo had removed the bindings on the rings and was exerting influence again, and had named Tsuna his true successor. “Then attacking the rings was probably attempting to remove Primo's influence; Primo called Tsunayoshi 'his true successor'.”

Renee gave another small grown with a swear word garbled into it, rubbing his forehead; he spoke carefully, with pauses to space things out and consider words. “Daemon was... a very bitter, very wounded man, and he played it all very close to himself; I doubt that even Daniela knew all of his wounds. He was paranoid, and a hypocrite from his own bitterness; he was dedicated to fighting the worst, but anything that would seem like 'weakness' or 'better nature' he would lash out at – he would wear his acts of cruelty like medals, then explain away and try to pragmatically justify any act of kindness or humanity.” He shifted his hands, leaning his chin on both of them folded. “It was as if he were terrified of admitting such things to himself... I think, that the only person he hated more than Giotto was himself, and that he veered into evil deeds to prove he was a monster to himself as much as to anyone else... or perhaps that he was afraid that if he were not a monster, he might have to stop and face his hurts as a 'weak' human.” Mukuro stayed quiet and still. “He existed for the Vongola; the risk that the Vongola might splinter and die out was enough for him to bring all of his other machinations into line under Daniela, so that the Vongola would not be fighting themselves in the face of an outside enemy – Daniela used that time to rebuild more of what her grandfather had intended. He did come to care for her, although I'm not sure she ever managed to drag him into admitting it; she was trying to ground him and hammer all his pieces back where they belonged.”

Checking if he'd harmed the Ninth – if the Eighth's leashing had turned into a relationship, and the Ninth had been born during the war, then the Ninth was their child; suddenly the long, quiet period and indirect harassment without a direct assault made more sense – Spade dancing on the edge of his own personal moral event horizon, unwilling to cooperate with “an idealist”, but not able to turn against his own son.

Obviously that protection had only been good for one, immediate generation.

“Why did he leave?”

The Eighth had brought him to heel and gotten him under control and close, trusted enough for a relationship; whatever had broken him again, would be what started the slide to where he was now.

Renee shrugged helplessly. “We don't know. After the war, we were busy with negotiations and rebuilding; the longer it went, the more agitated and – panicky he became. He started disappearing occasionally in fits, and then one day he had a fit and just.... never came anywhere close enough for Daniela or Tim to catch him again.”

Which was likely another layer to Tim's avoidance of standing up to the hostile factions; not just his adopted son, but his father.

It still left him with precious little to fight with; Spade was a neurotic wreck, Spade was bitter and vindictive, Spade had a grudge over a century old with Tsuna's grandfather a few greats removed. Spade hated himself and had some kind of mess of self-delusions with a truth he hid from even himself, Spade was making himself into a monster to escape his own fears.

Spade had aimed to remove Takeshi before the boy could even be a risk, and had taken Chrome out of the way to avoid another illusionist interfering; standard illusionist tactics – cover your own trail enough to minimize threats that could push you into a direct confrontation, or put you against someone who might see through your illusions.

“He's going to eat you alive at this rate.”

Mukuro's eyes narrowed; Renee wasn't a threat, but he wasn't about to roll over to something older. “He's avoiding a fight.”

“You're agitated. You're angry and upset; he's been playing this game as a psychotic wreck for a century – I've watched him wind people up and tear them down, it's like watching a matador lead an angry bull right into a moving train.”

He was agitated, yes. “I am in control, and I have fought under worse conditions.”

Renee raised an eyebrow, a pointed look between him and a small, round decorative mirror on the wall.

He glanced over; there were black circuitry marks webbing across half of his face, the red eye and the six Kanji of Path of Heaven easily visible. He hadn't realized he was leaking that badly, but then... “I don't have much reason to hide right now.”, he shrugged.

Renee gave him a long, flat look that was dry enough to strip paint and disbelieving enough to kill small fairies.

“I can't even strike at him until the others remove whatever he's using to block me from Chrome; I have time to work on my composure.”

“You're going to be walking into a field he's set, with him expecting you to come after him, and all he has to do is leave her injured or at risk to make sure you dash in blind and right where he wants you.”

“I'm also not going to be alone there, and I am almost certain his current pawns don't know who's pulling their strings – and can be turned on him.”

“If they're still alive when you get there. That's not a new tactic for him.”

“Tsunayoshi almost never kills, and is frighteningly good at disabling.”

“Then he'll use them as obstacles and make sure they're in no condition to turn on him by the time you get there, and likely use them to tear up Tsunayoshi and the others as much as he can before they're anywhere near him.” Renee shifted to leaning on one hand, drumming fingers on the table. “He's starting the fight and calling everyone out; he hates doing that. He won't even attempt unless he's had time to mess with everything he can of the field and plan for every contingency he can think of, and if he's had nerves hit, that's only going to make him more determined to hit every weakness he can.”

“Remind me to tell you about Byakuran when this is over.” It wasn't like this was their first time going up against control freaks with too much information and all the time in the world to set the field.

Renee just raised an eyebrow for a very brief moment. “If there were a betting pool, the only reasons I'd lay any odds on you kids at all right now, are Reborn's ability to get people to adapt tactics, and that it sounds like Giotto's dug himself out of whatever funk Daniela used to grumble about enough to stick his oar in the water.” He paused. “............................And then I wouldn't bet anything I couldn't afford to lose, because I'd mostly be doing it to piss Rosa off.”

Mukuro managed some kind of irked twist that wasn't really a smile but was trying not to be a scowl. “Your vote of confidence is appreciated.”

“You know, I have some very good wine here; it would help.”

“...I have other things to check on.”

And he left, quite sure that Renee could handle any confusion from the host on this one.