Fading violet

Summary: AU 6918 fic of their lives revolving around a single location; the playground.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence, smut, angst

The playground was a recent addition to the neighborhood, but it already seemed a familiar part of the landscape. Children swarmed there during the summer, and on weekends, each leaving a passing mark of their own before the years made them grow up, and forget the small park they used to spend their free time on still resting there. The oak tree stood, ageless behind it all.

Age: newborn

Hibari Kyouya was born just a month earlier than Rokudo Mukuro. This difference meant that for the shortest period of time, Hibari's age would be just one place older. Hibari would be the first to hit the double digits. But that wouldn't matter, not really.

That wasn't the only difference.

Hibari entered the world surround by a score or so of doctors, all hustling around like the world was ending. Or their paycheck, which was definitely more the case. No expense was spared, and several rooms of their household had been connected to each other, the separating walls between them all knocked down several months before the expected date of his birth. The whole right wing of the house more closely resembled a mini-hospital rather than a place where people lived. The stink of disinfectant was sharp through the air. His earliest memory. His next memory was of the bright scarlet that coated everything around him: blood, his mother's blood.

His mother had always been rather sickly, and her choice to have her son take her surname was an embodiment of her desire to be unbound and carefree as a bird in the sky. His father hadn't held him after he was born, instead grasping his wife's hand steadily, trying his utmost to make her stay with him, giving the perfect comforting smile, making empty promises. He had left the room immediately after, and the head maid had taken him under her wing, deciding to take care of him to the point of which she might as well have been his adoptive mother, albeit with a lot less privileges.

Because despite all of the painstaking precautions, Hibari Kyouya's mother died during childbirth.

Mukuro was born in the backseat of a moving car. The car wasn't headed towards the hospital when labor was taking place, it was charging down the road to an underground clinic run by a certain 'Dr. Shalala'. His mother was a frequent customer, be it for abortions or overdosing on certain illegal drugs. Either way, she was always so easily identified by that vividly natural shoulder length indigo-hair. He had been dumped behind the clinic barely an hour after, his mother already off to receive more customers in the dank hostess club. 'Shalala', took off his wig and signed his name 'Dr. Shamal' on the crinkled notepad, filling out a name, date, time, a make-shift birth certificate, shaking his head at the poor boy's name. His mother really was peculiar.

Six paths corpse, indeed. The boy probably would have been better off not born into the nasty reality he would have to endure. Shamal dropped him off at a nearby orphanage, wrapped in a curtain. He was taken in the next morning, much to the dismay of the orphanage managers. They were running short on resources, and a strange child with an even stranger eye, one that seemed to pierce clear through all their misguided and hidden intentions, was not a welcomed thing.

As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Rokudo Mukuro was never born.

Age: 6 years old

Hibari had lost count of how many nannies he had. Every single one of them either was fired by the 'stepmother of the week' or scared off by his rather gruesome antics. The head maid had been aghast when they found a collection of dead birds underneath his bed. When he was scolded and asked to explain himself, the head maid had to leave the room in order to prevent him from seeing her tears. He had simply admitted that he found the 'scarlet that they bled when they died to be strangely comforting'. Despite his large intellect, he still didn't understand what he had said wrong.

Although his father never had any time to pay attention to him, always hosting this, going there, and he could have continued the habit, he didn't. The image of his crying caretaker had left a bad taste in his mouth, and again, he couldn't explain why. Because of that, he had created a trap, specifically to lure in small song birds. He'd always take care of one for exactly one month, before it mysteriously escaped, leaving just one tail feather to join his collection of many more. At the dear age of six, this was quite the feat, but it went just as unnoticed as his existence itself. It was as if Hibari was nothing more than an object that came with the house.

Mukuro had spent most of his days running gleefully away from all the older boys in the orphanage. He'd be pranking all day long, sticking a slimy frog into the eldest child's pants, or rigging a water trap on top of a door that he could barely reach the top of, even with a step stool. But even this wasn't the most aggravating thing about the sharp little boy that ran around all day.

His lies were always so incredibly believable, and whenever the other children accused him of 'pouring dye in Sarah's hair' or 'leaving honey in Alex's sheets' the caretakers would always go look and find nothing wrong. They could never see the inky black that dripped off Sarah's hair, or the sticky yellow that colored Alex's bed, though everyone could see the smug smile that decorated Mukuro's face. It was something that was always unnerving to see on a boy no taller than the dining table.

They first met in the community playground, one night when Hibari Kyouya had run away from the estate, chasing after the songbird that had escaped. He hadn't meant to leave the cage door open just thirty days after he caught it, nor did he remember ever doing such a thing. Still, without fail, exactly thirty days later, he'd wake up sitting on the table in the middle of the night and discover that he had unlocked the cage door without realizing, watching the little bird flutter off, free.

Mukuro hadn't meant to steal any food from the kitchen. There had been just a single apple sitting on the common room table and he thought that it was meant for whoever saw it first. Obviously, the older children had plotted against him, sending in the head caretaker the moment he had taken the first bite. He couldn't come up with a decent lie, and he hadn't had the time to illusion the fruit away. He took the spanking with as much dignity as he could manage, but he had run off as soon as everyone had fallen asleep, pinning it on the fact that he was unable to fall asleep from the pain shooting up his spine.

That couldn't explain the tears that were streaming down his cheeks as he swung up towards the large starlit tree, wishing nothing more to be a bird that could swing up and keep going.

The silver-lit oak tree had been their only companion as the swing slowly swung to a stop, Mukuro calmly admiring the cute yellow bird that had landed in his lap, Hibari stepping into the mulched playground with a single crunch before stopping to just stare.

Mukuro had run away immediately. He hadn't expected to be seen.

The other boy had seemed like one of those filthy rich children that would report him, just because.

Hibari gently picked up the confused little bird that had resettled on the swing seat, taking the spot for himself. He placed it in his lap curiously, wondering why it didn't keep flying like all the others. Every single one of them had seemed so desperate to escape him, after all. He killed things that stayed around him.

The other boy that was on the swing before him looked haggard, and he wondered why they had stopped crying as soon as he had spotted them, or indeed, why they had been crying at all.

The warmth that still lingered on the swing somehow lulled him to sleep.

Age: 11 years old

A new boy came into Hibari Kyouya's life. His name was Fran. No last name. He was the illegitimate child between his father and one of his mistresses that the bastard man kept with practically no secrecy now that his wife was gone. Fran wouldn't stop crying for the longest time, which made him bite the boy to death with an irritated frown.

Fran had stopped crying, although it wasn't out of terror. In any case, afterwards, the smaller boy seemed glued to him for some unspeakable reason. Rather, it resembled a sick sort of fascination. He never saw any emotion on the green-haired boy after that. The frosty edge that tinged the otherwise dull green eyes of the younger boy was pleasing to look at. It was the only reason he allowed Fran to stay around.

He saw the same glint in Mukuro's mismatched eyes when they met again. Passing by the orphanage, he saw Mukuro vaulting over the fence, barely blinking as the barbed wire cut deeply into the other boy's thigh and hand, although the indigo-haired boy had winced when he landed on the ground.

Both their eyes had widened in recognition of the other, and Mukuro planned to turn and continue his daily escape from the prison-like compound. But he stopped. "Hello, Hibari Kyouya."

Hibari blinked, unsure as to how Mukuro learned of his name. "Are you running away?"

"I have nowhere to go for the moment, so no." Mukuro tilted his head at the strange green-haired boy that hung around cautiously behind the other. "Who's that?" He put a hand against the yellow bricks to his right, facing the raven-haired boy.

"Fran." Hibari made no move to elaborate.

Fran obviously wasn't satisfied, wanting to know who this foreign individual with similarly weird hair was. "I'm his half-brother. Are you his boyfriend?"

Hibari gave a sharp side-glance to the nine-year old boy. "He's not. I don't know him."

"But he knew your name."

Mukuro chuckled out his bizarre little phrase, earning himself a shifty-eyed look from both of the well-dressed boys before him. "It's not difficult to recognize the prime minister's son, Fran. Although you do have to consider the boyfriend part. Isn't it about time that boys your age started getting into things like relationships, hm?"

Fran gave a sigh and intoned in the same monotone voice he used for everything. "I'll leave you two lovebirds then. I'll be at the ice-cream stand, Kyouya." He left the scene without another word.

Hibari was a little shaken by the ferocity of the urge to make that beautifully twisted face bleed, not caring in the least that he had just let his nine-year old half brother wander off into the city alone. "You're younger than me."

It was Mukuro's turn to be surprised. "Oh, how do you know my age? Oya, oya, did you do some research on me, Hibari Kyouya? I'm flattered."

"No. I needed to know where and who exactly Hibird was spending time with. It has nothing to do with you as an herbivore." He looked bored with the conversation.

Mukuro smiled. "That little birdie would never come under harm with me."

Hibari ignored Mukuro's claim. "That, and that your name appears within the top ten for most criminally active in Namimori. I've been planning to hunt you down for awhile now." He went into an offensive stance, wooden tonfas sliding out. He broke his metal ones training several days before and he had been room bound by his new step-mother for the duration until this morning. His trip out was to pick up his newly ordered ones from a local weapons vendor.

His prey laughed, entirely undaunted. "I invite you to try and catch me then, Kyouya-kun."

The other boy blinked, though the title didn't bother him enough to make him frown. "You don't have permission to call me that. I'll bite you to…" He resumed his normal posture, putting the weapons away. Mukuro had already turned tail and escaped like an injured dog, vanishing along with the breeze. "Che. Running away is weak." He turned towards the community park. Taking a nap while Fran bullied smaller—or older—children sounded nice, but for some reason, he thought for a moment that the vanilla ice cream Fran had bought was pineapple.

Age: 16 years old

He hadn't managed to hunt Rokudo Mukuro down, even five years after his declaration to. For an herbivore, the bastard was surprisingly good at evasion. The day that he had first spoken to the renegade teen was also the last time anyone at the orphanage had seen him. And apparently the rest of the charges there thought that it was very much a good riddance. No one had bothered to search for him; no one could care any less if the bastard was dead.

It would be almost saddening had anyone else known, but no one else. Mukuro was nobody, a ghost, a demon that left no trail. Some days, Hibari found himself staring into the sky, wondering if the ethereal boy was real. Or if he had simply imagined someone interesting enough for him to pass by the days without falling into a boredom induced insanity.

But then Hibird would come along and remind him who exactly had suggested the bird's name, and remind him of the yellowing letter still in his bottom left desk drawer. He treasured that sheet of paper much more than any bill or love letter ever would, although he'd adamantly refuse to admit anything more than a passing interest in the boy with the demonic red eye.

Perhaps it was fate, but they met in the playground again. Hibari had chased down several rule breakers that were caught shoplifting food from a nearby convenience store. Amongst them was a young girl that bore a striking resemblance to the boy he'd been searching for since ten years ago. She wore an eye patch and carried an armful of chips and chocolate. A rogue looking blonde had run by first, and Hibari took him out, along with the four-eyes he was with. The girl made him pause.

"Do you know Rokudo Mukuro?" The question came out of nowhere, and didn't know what possessed him to ask it.

The girl looked surprised at the name. "M-Mukuro-sama?"

"You know him. Where is he?" He approached her, tonfas still spotted with streaks of blood from previous offenders that were already bitten to death. A shimmering figure materialized into a recognizable form before the frightened girl.

"Oya, looking for me, my dearest Kyouya? I can't allow you to harm darling Chrome here. She's a precious friend of mine."

"Where have you been hiding all this time?" He growled, anticipatory for a good fight.

Mukuro seemed strangely wistful. "Away. I wasn't ignoring you, don't worry. I've come back now."

"I wasn't worried that you were, pineapple." He had figured out that the other's hairstyle really did resemble the tropical fruit. He didn't mention the fact that he now paused every time he was around the fruit, and he had a particular interest in eating some of it, every once in awhile.

"Pineapple? Affectionate nicknames now?" He let go of his subordinate, letting them escape while he moved to defend the path Hibari would have to take to follow them. "Go, Chrome, I'll be fine. Kyouya won't be able to hurt me." The girl gave him a worried glance, doubtful, but obeyed his order without question.

Hibari gave a dissatisfied glare. "Always running away, herbivore."

"Oh, I'm not running away this time. I fully intend to make you mine, somehow, Hibari Kyouya. Won't you let me corrupt you?" Mukuro skirted a bit closer. "I promise it'll feel good."

The older boy balked slightly, hissing at the suggestion. "You wish, herbivore. I'll bite you to death before that happens." He lunged forward swinging his right arm up slightly to slam up into the other's chin, only for it to pass right through. He frowned. "You're playing dirty. Illusions?"

A voice sounded from behind him, and he barely had time to parry against the trident that came bearing down. "Quite dirty, I'm afraid. You need to know how in order to survive in the big bad world, Kyouya."

"Shut up, illusionist. I don't need your lectures." His leg came up to give a hard kick right into the other's chest, driving Mukuro back several feet, forcing out a cough.

"You're persistent." He laughed sourly, noting that the force seemed to have cracked a rib or two. Hibari was a much better fighter than what he'd heard. Then again, most of Namimori's guardian's victims weren't much of an opponent. There had been no way to test the other's true strength without utterly decimating the other side. And that would most certainly have been boring.

Mukuro spun back, using the momentum to swing his trident out to the side, hoping to slice into the other's side, and not thin air. Hibari managed to bring his tonfa up quickly enough to deflect it, having the tip graze into his arm instead. The indigo-haired boy smirked. "Kufufu, and I win~"

Hibari's eyes widened as he felt an icy sensation begin spreading from the shallow wound. "You poisoned it. Bastard." He fell to his knees, pitching forward as he lost consciousness.

He awoke to lying on a musky sofa in a dimly lit room. He was bound but not gagged. Gauging by the amount of light streaming in, it was either early morning or just before sundown. He tested his bonds, a bit dismayed that they seemed to be tied quite well.

He saw a familiar figure sitting on a crate several feet away. Mukuro. That's right, the bastard had drugged him. He fixed an indignant glare on the other boy.

The boy in question tilted his head in curious consideration. "Don't your parents care that you're missing?"

Hibari remained stubbornly silent.

"Mine are dead, you know. I killed them."

Still silence, although that seemed to make the raven-haired boy's pulse quicken slightly in surprise.

"Useless, both of them. Mother was a prostitute, father was a drug lord. Not particularly becoming, eh?"

"Shut up. I don't care about your life."

"Hmm. Perhaps. But I do care about yours. Back to the question: don't they care?"

Hibari looked away from the piercing eyes, bright in the room's comparative darkness. One answer wouldn't hurt if it would get the bastard to just shut up. "My mother's dead. Father couldn't care less. I couldn't either. Maybe Lal's worried. Maybe not."

"Lal?"

"Head maid. Head of the house, really."

"Ah." Mukuro leaned back on the crate, arms out behind to support him. "We're both pretty screwed up children aren't we? I've lost count of how many people have died by my hand."

"Self-reflection isn't your style."

Mukuro frowned. "No, it's not. I'll stop, then. Would you prefer I get to the point?"

He didn't respond.

"Alright, I'll take that as a very grudging yes then. Look at me." The light gray eyes flickered over in curiosity, and he continued on, satisfied that he had the other's full attention. "Will you have sex with me?"

Hibari was a bit shocked, to be honest. Of all the things that could have been said, all the other boy was interested was sexual pleasure? "No. It seems I've misjudged you, Rokudo Mukuro. You're more predictable than I thought." The converse was true, but small details like that weren't of his concern.

The mismatched eyes went out of view as Mukuro shut them, sighing. "I didn't expect you to be easy, of course. It still hurts to be so strongly rejected though, Kyouya. You realize how many people would kill to get a taste of this?" He motioned to himself in general.

"Hn, kill you, probably."

The same dour humor again. "That's depressing." But it was a surprisingly normal conversation, as far as conversations went for both of them. It felt natural talking to each other, as if they could relate. "But true, unfortunately."

Hibari made a sound of amusement at Mukuro's feigned innocence. "You made it that way. Stop pretending to be innocent."

"Kufufu~ But it's rather fun to pretend about things that could never be though, hm?" He approached the lying boy, seating himself next to him. He ran a hand on the inside of the other's thigh, though his expression was more thoughtful than playful. "What do you say, Kyouya?"

"No." He fought the urge to fight back, wanting to bash in the other's horrid face. It wouldn't do him any good in such an awkward position anyhow.

Mukuro gave an exasperated sigh. "Still no? I'm hurt." He wasn't really, but he had no real desire to make the other do so without wanting to. He wanted Hibari to come to him voluntarily, the surest way of establishing that they had something inseparable.

"I don't care. Let me go, Mukuro."

"And go where? Back home? I highly doubt you like it there." He was questioning, wondering whether or not he should extend the offer he had in mind. "Stay with me. It'll be fun, I promise."

A disgruntled smirk found its way onto Hibari's face, and a lock of hair slid down to cover his eyes. He was glad. He didn't want Mukuro to see the torn desire that he harbored at the moment. The offer was tempting, and he was sure that he'd be able to find things much more entertaining following around with Mukuro and his troop.

But that was exactly the problem. Hibari Kyouya wasn't a follower. He had his own goals and aspirations, all of them involving his stay in Namimori. "I can't."

It wasn't a refusal in the complete meaning of the word, and he knew that Mukuro would catch onto his hesitation, though he hoped the other boy wouldn't force his decision because of it.

Mukuro tried not to let the disappointment show. They were friendly arch-enemies, if anything, and neither of them really had any 'driving goals' to motivate them through life, just enough to get them through on a day to day basis. He really needed a reason, and he supposed that convincing Hibari would be one of them. He stood again, making to leave the room.

"I see. Farewell for now then, allodola. Would a 'ti amo' make the wait until our next meeting more bearable? No?" Mukuro left before he could see the particular reaction his sort-of confession would draw. Chrome would come in and free the raven-haired boy later.

Hibari wasn't sure exactly how he felt from their whole encounter, but he knew that the urge to turn back when he had reached half a mile away from Kokuyo land was there for a reason. The strong sense of regret that he hadn't accept the offer and run away then and there wasn't supposed to be there for someone as strong and independent as him.

He was already attracted to the mysterious boy known as Rokudo Mukuro.

Age: 21 years old

They both stood at the top of the bridge, slide and stairs at each end. Empty air and thirty feet to the ground on each side.

There was no way to go but down.

They had found themselves there that evening. Mukuro had happened to be back in town, and Hibari needed to take a walk to clear his head. Mukuro broke the ice, quick to talk as always.

"Hey, Kyouya. I heard you're getting married tomorrow."

Silence seemed like the best response he could come up with. It was true after all.

Mukuro pressed in a bit closer, and Hibari looked away from the other man's eyes, unnerved by the uncharacteristic emotions that were in there. Fear, worry, terror? Loneliness? No, they all weren't quite right. "Do you want to marry her? She's a nice girl."

Wasn't the answer obvious? He didn't really have any other options.

"Why would you let this happen, Kyouya? I thought you wanted to be free…"

Hibari turned around from Mukuro, who leaned against the railing on the opposite side of the bridge, hands grasping the cold, painted metal on his side, looking out into the rest of the park, and at the big oak tree lit with the colors of sunset. He found himself wishing that the railings bent, collapsed and let them fall to their death, so that he didn't have to deal with the conversation. "I do."

"Then why?" Mukuro's gaze bore pointedly into the back of the other's blazer, singing a metaphorical hole in the fabric with the sheer intensity.

"There's nothing else left to do. Father will die soon. I need a way to produce an heir for the family." He turned back around, facing Mukuro. "And I can't do that with you."

"Don't make one then. Leave it all behind. Run away with me." There was a hint of something he couldn't put his finger to in his voice. Mukuro tried not to think about it too much.

"I can't."

He sighed, a bit acidic. "It's always that isn't it? Duty? If you don't want it, don't take it."

"It's not a matter of whether you want it or not, Mukuro."

"But what do you want? It's alright to be selfish with me. I won't judge anything. I love all of you. Your flaws, your perfection, even the sharp gaze you have when you kill something. You're beautiful, Kyouya."

Hibari ignored it. He ignored the small flip that his heart gave at every word that the stupid illusionist spoke. Really, the other had a way with words. It made him want to believe Mukuro. But how was he to know that this wasn't another one of his deceiving tricks, a colorful mat set over the entrance to a bottomless pit? "I don't care."

Mukuro stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Hibari's waist, nuzzling in. "You're warm. You breathe. You're human, Kyouya. Isn't it alright to trust me?"

"Of course I am." He frowned, trying not to shiver at the uncomfortable proximity. "It's never safe to trust you, idiot." He didn't push Mukuro away. "But…"

"But it'll be alright to try, just this once, hm?" He stepped into the slide, turning around and stretching his hand towards the man towering above him. "Come down with me."

His frown grew deeper as he took on a petulant tone with the other. "Stop twisting my words. I never said that." But his expression lightened anyways, as he took the offered hand.

Mukuro let out a satisfied grin, tugging the other man down the slide with him.

He was giggling like mad when they got stuck halfway down, pleased to note that Hibari had on a rare smile, probably without realizing. "Take off your shoes! The friction!"

"You take off your boots!" Hibari gave a harsh kick to the blockage's back, as if that would clear it away.

Mukuro lurched forward and started sliding down headfirst. "Hey, don't just kick me! I'm not a damn object, Kyouya." He gave a startled gasp as a heavy weight thumped onto his back, and they slid out to the exit at the bottom. A passerby walking his dog gave them a strange stare. "Kyouya."

"Yes?"

"Could you get off my back please? It's somewhat excruciating to breathe." The other man got off with a sigh, stepping onto the mulch and wiping off the dirt that had collected on his suit. "Thank you."

Hibari watched Mukuro cough several times with a frown, trying to clear his compressed airway. "I'm not that heavy, Mukuro. Stop exaggerating."

"Oh, but you are, for someone that lanky." Mukuro towed Hibari along off the mulched area, into the uneven grass. "Isn't that oak tree amazing? It hasn't changed at all since we first met." He brought them to a halt underneath its branches.

"Hm, it's as determined as you about staying alive at least." Hibari traced his hand along the many gouge marks that were carved into the side. He gave Mukuro a wary glance as a vine wrapped its way around his waist. "What are you doing?"

Mukuro had similar vine wrapped around his hand and wrist, looking for all the world like a jungle man in dark wash jeans. "Going up~" The vines suddenly reeled upwards, pulling them into the canopy, settling them on one of the three main branches. "Look, there are marks even up here." He scrutinized the whitish looking scars. "They've faded. They must have been made back when this tree was still young." He took out a pocket knife, beginning to carve something.

"Stop that." Hibari's hand shot out to grab the other's wrist.

Mukuro peeled the hand away. "What, concerned about vandalism against nature? I'm just leaving some proof that we were here." He snapped the knife shut, putting it away. "That we existed, once upon a time."

"You never struck me as a romantic." Hibari said it almost accusingly, but he stared off at the wonderful view that their vantage point gave of the newly risen moon. "It's full tonight."

"A cheers to a successful marriage, perhaps?" The heterochromatic eyes flashed with anger before returning to normal. It was unseemly to be bitter over something like that. It wasn't as if he couldn't ever visit the raven-haired Japanese again if he wanted to.

Hibari gave the other a brief glance before returning to look at the moon. "Perhaps it's a beacon to reveal another path that I hadn't ever seen. Perhaps."

"Hmm. Let's get down now. Unless you want to lose your virginity in a tree?" The playful mood had returned, in part because it was his default mood, but also because Mukuro hadn't ever been content around anyone. It was exciting to know that he was currently dealing with a man that, given the circumstances, could and would kill him without a second thought.

It was a liberating feeling to know that as long he was with this person named Hibari Kyouya, this person that happened to be son of the current Prime Minister of Japan, he didn't have to worry about dying alone. They'd crash and burn together.

"I wouldn't put it past you." Though Hibari did take the vine and slid down without any complaint. It was bound to be uncomfortable rubbing against all that bark. Plus it'd be something of a turn-off if they crashed to the ground in the middle.

As soon as both of them touched ground, Mukuro shoved the other down to the grass, kissing, already marking Hibari as his. It would be quite interesting to see how the other would explain the hickeys and bruises to his newlywed wife during their honeymoon. Hibari had fought, fiercely, but with a certain degree of awkwardness. This was Hibari's first time and Mukuro had every intention of making it one that the other would never forget.

When he looked back on this moment, Hibari wasn't sure exactly how he'd gotten to where he had one leg up in the air, moaning wantonly as his hands curled into the indigo strands looming above him. He wasn't sure when he had cried out, writhing into the dried grass or how he'd released, screaming the other's name without the slightest worry of who might have heard him.

It was dark, and only moving silhouettes could be seen underneath the great, standing tree.

They laid side by side afterwards, staring up into the dark leaves and bright gaps that blocked their vision of the night sky beyond it, as if it was shielding them from everything else.

"You know, I've never actually played on a playground before, despite how it seems to have brought us together. I'd only ever use the swing." Mukuro's eyes were glazed over with a bit of melancholy. "Since the rest's no fun alone."

"I haven't either. The swing is the most interesting." Hibari twined his fingers into the other's hand, closing his eyes, willing himself to forget about the fact that each second brought him closer to dreaded daybreak, when he'd have to leave to fulfill his obligations as part of the great machine known as society. For the moment, just for the moment, it would be alright.

Mukuro awoke in the morning to find that Hibari had left him underneath the tree sometime during the night. He had slept clean through until then, for once, without any nightmares of him standing in the middle of a bloodstained alley, murder on his hands, shocking him awake. The dew that coated the grass was cold, and he shivered slightly, craving the warmth another person would provide, though he knew how pointless it was.

'MuKyo-eienni.' He hoped that by making it a part of the tree that never seemed to age, it would somehow make it become reality. Something that he could come to rely on.

Wishful, futile thinking, but it comforted him.

Age: 26 years old

His father had died from lung cancer less than a year after his marriage. He had inherited all the estate although he hadn't succumbed to any of the pressures from 'family friends' to vie for the position of Prime Minister. He'd much rather not be restricted by annoying things like votes and fame. Hibari had left the house without warning again. It wasn't as if he really cared if his wife worried about him, it was useless to. The blonde woman had chased him halfway out the door in the rain with an umbrella, as if a cold would be fatal. If he was shot dead on an outing, was there anything she'd be able to do even if she'd come along? Probably not. It was simply fact.

There were plenty of people who had a reason to kill him, of course. Hibari Kyouya was a name renowned throughout the underworld as one who single-handedly destroyed organizations, shattered alliances with appropriately given information, appropriately made attacks. He had many more enemies than friends, and his political connections with his father's old friends made it even easier to pull some strings and get the results he wanted.

Throughout it all, he found himself searching for even the barest hint of a single name. Just the word 'mukuro' or corpse in his files had him looking twice. It was rather pathetic, how hung up he was over the other man. He had made the decision to give up that particular future; no regrets were supposed to come with that. It was a clear cut choice, and definitely the best one at the time. If he had decided to follow Rokudo Mukuro into the murky depths of crime, he'd just go from one society to the next. There'd really be no change, and he'd make less of a difference than he could now.

Hibari was in a rather privileged position, and he knew it.

The prospect of living the high life with the illusionist was just as fresh and enticing as it had seemed when it was first dangled in front of him. Even now, he still wondered whether or not it really was the best choice, though he knew it clearly was.

Rough emotions were something he didn't tangle himself in, but the bastard was able to drag him along with his tune, make him dance the stupid pineapple's little carnival of lunacy, even when he wasn't there. He both cursed and blessed the fact that he had ever met the other.

Even now, five years after that night, he found himself returning to the playground where they'd first met. There, he was really there. Was it fate? Or simply chance?

"Hey, Kyouya." Same greeting, same expression, same voice. It was as if nothing had changed at all since that evening long before. But the indigo hair flowed much longer, the other's face seemed a bit more angular, morose, and he was sitting, rocking slowly on the swing, acting as if the sun was shining and birds were singing, not at all like they were in the middle of an afternoon storm. "Did you hear? This playground is going to be torn down soon. Isn't it sad?"

Of course he'd heard. Rokudo Mukuro needed to stop asking pointless questions. Hibari had done everything that he could to see to it that the playground wasn't demolished. But it had fallen decrepit as the Japanese economy worsened. There was no one to take care of it, no children to play in it. The place was like a crypt of some long forgotten child.

The other man gazed a bit sadly at the majestic tree, though it seemed a bit smaller than he had remembered. "I heard they're even going to kill the tree."

That had hurt the most, when he'd first discovered the file in the government annals. Apparently, the expansion of the nearby neighborhood had been approved quite awhile ago, since before they were born, but the bureaucracy had kept the construction workers from actually plotting out and receiving permission to flatten any of the local land in preparation for building new homes.

Perhaps it was fate? Or was it chance that the playground had survived long enough to ensure that they'd see each other again, and again? Even now?

"I know, Mukuro."

The illusionist stopped swinging, eyes now boring into the fading mulch. "Kyouya. I came to say good-bye."

Hibari looked up, trying to find Mukuro's eyes. What was he saying?

"I won't be coming back here." The mismatched eyes flicked up, and the sadness that misted over the usual brightness was just a bit painful to see.

"Why not?" Hibari told himself that he didn't care, carefully steadying himself and his voice, ignoring the small crack in the middle of his question.

Mukuro took in a cleansing breath, unsure about exactly how much he needed to answer in order to satisfy the other. He decided to not risk Hibari attempting to hunt him down eventually, and answered deliberately vaguely. It would be easy to see through of course; his heart wasn't in it. "No particular reason."

"Don't lie to me."

He began swinging again, searching for some way to avoid the fading violet eyes that were probably filled with hurt accusation. He really didn't want to have to use this, but he didn't want to prolong the conversation any longer. Anything to drive Hibari away. He gazed into the other's eyes, struck with the emotions he had expected and internally flinching, though he didn't waver in the slightest. They were both stubborn people. "Do you really want to know? Fine then. I lost interest in you, is all. Hibari Kyouya, you've bored me."

Hibari growled, shoving the other man off the swing, blinking water out of his eyes. "Stop bullshitting me, Mukuro. If you really didn't care, you wouldn't have come back to tell me."

"Wouldn't or shouldn't?" The counter was immediate, like he was well-prepared for what he was doing. "Aren't you just assuming things, Kyouya? You don't want to acknowledge the fact that I've been playing with you this whole time. You don't want to admit that everything we've done so far is a lie."

The raven-haired man couldn't control his shaking. He was angry, so angry, but he knew that biting Rokudo Mukuro to death wouldn't change anything. "You're a bastard." The tonfa slipped out anyways. "You're a bastard, Rokudo Mukuro."

Mukuro smirked. The action came out naturally for him, though his heart strained. He had been hoping that Hibari would have been stunned enough to just let him escape. He didn't know if he could prolong his charade any further. It was beginning to affect him, Hibari's tears. "I know." It wasn't what he had planned to say, and it came out much softer than he would have liked. "But you fell for me anyways. Curse that you'd ever met me. Hate me."

Of course the other would say that. It wasn't hard to understand that Mukuro was struggling just as much as he was, even if his actions were flawless. He brought his weapon around to slam against the other's skull, but faltered in mid strike, gritting his teeth as he cleared his vision on his sleeve. "You've always asked that I trust in you. Why is it so difficult to ask the same of you?"

"Trust? Kufufu, you're quite vain. I wouldn't trust a songbird. Would you?" What was his point? Hibari didn't understand. Mukuro shifted off the ground, not bothering to wipe off the wet grit that coated his back from landing on the ground.

"What's wrong?" He let his arm drop listlessly to the side, though it still clutched the grip quite hard. His shoulders were tensed, and he glared at the ground, biting out the question. Rain was streaming down his face, collecting at his nose, and he ignored the lightly salty taste that it gave when it dripped around his lips. "Just tell me what's wrong. I deserve to know."

He clicked his tongue. "Always so selfish, Kyouya. You aren't special. You don't deserve to know more than anyone." I want to keep you away because there's nothing you can do. "It's nothing that should concern you. I shouldn't waste my time with you any longer." I can't stay any longer. I can't afford to be seen with you. I can't get you involved. All the half truths were washed away with the rain.

Hibari Kyouya was left standing alone in the rain. Rokudo Mukuro had vanished without a trace.

He dutifully ignored all the calls and texts he received from his over enthusiastic brother-in-law for a 'night of extreme drinking with family'. He wasn't interested. The next day, he returned to work as usual, with an even greater fervor than before, if possible. He would exhaust every resource if it meant he could find the damn pineapple.

"Why is it even when you stand right in front of me, I can never have you?"

Age: 27/death

More than a year had passed, before he'd caught wind of the other man again.

It was a long time, but it was much less than five.

This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to receive a clue about the stupid illusionist so soon after a meeting. He ordered his right hand to cancel his appointments for the next week. He was going to the Caribbean.

A week ago, on a remote island in the area, there had apparently been a sighting of a man with indigo-hair, and mismatched eyes on the pineapple farm there. He had been accompanied by a white haired man they had identified as the local area's drug cartel ring leader. The White Orchid, they had called him.

Then, a week later, Rokudo Mukuro's corpse was found, with a short phrase carved into his chest: come fly with me, my little skylark (in Italian). Come fly with me, my little Skylark. It was obvious bait, directed right at him. The only person in the world that would know their little secret about wanting to become birds and fly off into the sky together was Mukuro. The bastard wasn't dead. It was quite evident to him that their leader had staged the illusionist's death, since Byakuran had disappeared, leaving his cartel behind in chaos. Apparently, not even his most trusted retainers knew what their leader was thinking.

Hibari rushed back to the estate, gathering documents and several passports, forgeries, all of them. He was venturing into foreign territory and he was an expected guest. It would be best to give his opponent as surprise. He paused at the wooden frame of tail feathers that he had kept over all the years, ever since he was a child.

He removed the sheet of backing that the feathers were all glued to, rolling it up and taking it with him outside. The moment he had left the house, he brought out the universal 'lighter for all birthday candles' normally kept in the left kitchen drawer, setting it to the bottom right corner of the sheet. He didn't need a petty keepsake of the past when he now had wings of his own.

Hibird had been nesting in his hair and chirped once when it awoke. It fluttered around the falling ash, reminders of the other songbirds that had escaped, before taking off straight up into the sky, singing the Namimori anthem with great cheer. Hibari watched his companion ascend until he couldn't see Hibird anymore. He knew instinctively that it was a farewell.

He had called a cab and he saw turning around the corner when the estate door swung open, and his wife stumbled out towards the gates where he stood.

"Kyouya! Where are you going?"

Hibari gave her an odd glance. When did she notice he had gone? Had she been watching him this whole time? The cab drew to a halt, and the gravel of their driveway crunched as she ran closer. "Don't leave! Kyouya! At least tell me where you're going? Should I make dinner tonight?"

He gave her a small smile at her concern, shaking his head as he opened the cab door. "No. I won't need it ever again. Thank you for everything." He offered no explanation, brief and blunt as always. What he did was none of her concern.

Within the hour, Hibari Kyouya was staring out the window, down at the Pacific Ocean.

"Wait for me, Rokudo Mukuro. The playground would be lonely without you."

That afternoon, the oak tree was gave a creak and a groan, leaves blowing in the wind for the last time as it toppled over. Their playground was gone.

They didn't need it.

'MuKyo – eien ni'

A/N: 6918 (or 1869) is my OTP and I finally got around to writing something for them, though I'm unused to writing Hibari. He feels OOC. In any case, this isn't beta'd so if you see any errors, feel free to point them out in a PM or a review. All reviews and favorites are very much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed.

-nai

Translation Note: For what Mukuro carved into the tree 'MuKyo – eienni', I'm not quite sure about the accuracy, but I believe that 'eien ni' either means 'forever' or 'for eternity'. If anyone knows better, do tell me and I'll fix that, since I didn't have access to a translator while I was writing this.