edit 7/10/16: minor grammar edits

a/n: It's been a year. I have absolutely no excuse…so please enjoy the chapter.

Mist (I)

For as long as he could remember, he'd never known anything but dark walls and filthy cages, the sharp call of pained screams and the rich smell of blood and fear the hung heavily in the air. He'd never felt anything but pain and anger and disgust, never heard anything but the cold orders of scientists and painful whispers in the dead of the night.

When he was seven years old, he was strapped down to a surgical table as white-robed scientists hustled around, excitement and anticipation hanging in the air like a heavy weight on his chest.

When he was seven years old, his right eye had been gouged out and replaced with flames so dark they almost shut down his mind. When he was seven years old, he'd already walked through all the seven realms of Hell, gaining dark indigo flames that flickered around his fingers and a blood red eye that took the place of one dark blue eye.

Two years later, with a throbbing eye and a three-tipped blade, he's murdered the entire Estraneo Family, the wicked smile never leaving his face as he stomped happily through the rivers of blood.

At the age of nine, dragging along Ken and Chikusa, he'd escaped into the world, and all three of them became drunk on freedom- the soft ticked of lush green grass underfoot, the warm glow of the bright sun, and the rush of adrenaline when someone died by their own hands. And then, after breaking out of jail, (which was quite a simple feat), with Ken and Chikusa faithfully staying by his side, he foolishly lured the young Vongola heir into his Kokuyo lair, fully intending to kill the boy just for the hell of it.

Two hours and an intense battle later, he found himself wrapped in flame draining chains, a thick collar snapped around his neck, and a one way trip to the Vendice prisons. Forcefully stuffed into a cold, liquid-filled tube, he fell into a deep, deep sleep, the face of Sawada Tsunayoshi burned deep into his mind.

In his entire, messed-up life, Rokudo Mukuro never dreamed he'd actually stand next to the Vongola Decimo as one of his Mist guardians. But, ten years later, here he was, out of the damned prison and standing side by side with Sawada Tsunayoshi. Who, by the way, had changed a whole lot since he was merely a fourteen year old outcast.

Indigo flames snaked through his fingers, curling like mist over his gleaming trident. Beside him, Tsuna glanced up and grinned. Although they were just about to break into a prominent Italian politician's house, the young Vongola Don didn't seem fazed at all.

"Ready, Mukuro-kun?" Tsuna asked, slipping back into Japanese.

The illusionist let out a low chuckle, multi-colored eyes sweeping over the lush green lawn and the large gray mansion that spread out before them. Twitching his fingers, he let the indigo mist curl outwards, fanning out toward the mansion like a blanket of fog. Without another word, Tsuna took a step forward before breaking out into an easy stride. He held his hands in a relaxed manner, clasping them behind his back with an easy smile flickering on his face. However, Mukuro's keen eyes took notice of the way Tsuna stroked the Vongola ring, as if seeking guidance.

Mukuro loosened his grip on the trident, letting the tips brush against the grass as he followed his boss up the grey stone pathway lined with beautiful flowerbeds that sagged miserably under the fog-like indigo flame. Over head, the bright sun shone down, casting a layer of sunlight over the large lawn. Chuckling, Mukuro glanced up, and with a snap, the blue sky above darkened into a purple-black hue. A sliver of moon blinked into existence before being wiped away by dark storm clouds.

A chilling wind blew through, bringing with it winter warnings. Tsuna shuddered slightly, looking back at his Mist guardian with an amused look.

"Snow in the middle of summer? Man, that's cruel," the boss laughed, shivering.

Mukuro only smiled back, curling his fingers around his trident.

Inside the house, lights flickered on, bright yellow beams shining through the windows, casting ugly yellow rays through the thickening mist. Already, Mukuro could hear panicked yells and loud sobbing. Reaching into his pocket, the illusionist puled out a small indigo box studded with black metal, the Vongola crest imprinted on all six sides. Flames flickered around the ring on his finger, and Mukuro gently inserted the ring into the circular keyhole.

The flaps snapped open, and in a spectacular comet of indigo flames, a large white owl shot out of the box. The owl spread his snowy wings and circled his master once, twice, before flying off towards the mansion.

They walked in silence for a while, Tsuna slipping on a winter coat he'd brought with him to ward off the frigid air- no doubt he'd planned ahead for Mukuro's illusions. Quietly observing the shorter man beside him, the illusionist chuckled inwardly.

All too soon, the duo of sky and mist reached the doors to the mansion, the garden behind them almost completely coved in a pale layer of snow. Only the green tips of a perfect lawn managed to breach the heavy, white coat. Tsuna curled his lip as he reach out to push open the door, resting a gloved hand on a glimmering golden handle before turning to his mist guardian, frowning slightly. "Stick to the plan, ok?" the mafia boss asked, worry flickering softly in his eyes.

Tsunayoshi had a good reason to be concerned, Mukuro thought as he watched Tsuna push open the towering doors. They swung open silently, opening to a grand hallway. In his mind, Mukuro went over the mission briefing again. Beforehand, Tsuna had laid out a plan for Mukuro and himself, instructing that under no circumstance whatsoever was Mukuro allowed to kill the man they were after.

Stepping on a soft, light gray carpet, Mukuro smirk at the wet, muddy footprints they'd left behind. Well, the owner would have a lot more to worry about than a dirty carpet once Tsuna was done with him. As he let his mist flames thin out and spread throughout the mansion, Mukuro focused on the man beside him.

"Tsunayoshi," Mukuro began, "Are you absolutely sure that you don't want me to back you up?"

"Positive," Tsuna replied, flashing his mist guardian a comforting smile. The sky ring on his finger glinted dangerously under the lights of the ballroom the duo had just entered.

"Hmph." His heterochromatic gaze slid from one side of the room to the other, already mapping out the layout of the mansion, noting passage ways and escape routes, comparing his mental image with the map he'd been given during briefing.

As they crossed the ballroom, Tsuna asked quietly, "Have you found him yet?"

"Young Vongola, just who do you think I am?" Mukuro teased, smirking at the half-hearted glare Tsuna threw him. "Seems like he's hiding in one of the conference rooms on the second floor," Mukuro reported. Having spread his mist flames out like a spider's web, he'd caught and took notice of the man trembling underneath a large desk located in one of his many studies. Mukuro had also located the "secret entrance" to the politician's basement. The door was cleverly hidden with a layer of mist flames, but to Mukuro, dispersing the enemy flames was almost like stepping on an ant - so easy he didn't even have to think about it. His owl was perched on a nearby table, waiting patiently for his master.

Mukuro paused, but Tsuna's steady gaze made him sigh. "I've also located the entrance to the basement."

Tsuna nodded, looking pleased. "Cameras?"

Answering with a quick shake of his head, Mukuro motioned to a security camera that hung high up in a dark corner of the ballroom's ceiling. A faint glimmer of mist flames flashed in Tsuna's peripherals before flickering out again into nothing. A smile tugged at his lips, replaced quickly by a serious, professional look.

Letting out a soft snicker, Mukuro was about to comment before Tsuna quickly fixed him with an exasperated glare, to which he wisely fell silent as Tsuna turned on his heel and strode swiftly across the ballroom. Suppressing a grin, the illusionist followed him.

They stopped in front of a pair of elegant white doors, flowers and swans and pretty patterns carved delicately into the smooth wood. Tsuna set one gloved hand onto the surface, and pushed the doors open without hesitation. They swung open silently, opening to a wide, high ceilinged hallway. The hallway continued on for a bit, before stopping at a white staircase that curled upwards.

Across from the stairwell, there was a large painting of a grassy field, ordinary in all means. But, Mukuro could feel weak mist flames shimmering over the painting, no doubt covering up a door of some sort.

"Some hidden entrance," Mukuro snorted, and with a wave of his gloved hand, the mist flames dissipated to reveal a heavy steel door.

Tsuna shook his head in exasperation before saying, "I'll go up and you go down, got it?", as he pointed to the staircase first, then at the uncovered door opposite the staircase.

Mukuro nodded, watching as Tsuna light climbed up the stairs before turning to face the door. With a snicker, he rubbed his hands together, grasping the handle and grinning at the way the door swung open obediently. The guy really needed to work on his stealth, he decided as he began to descend down the cement staircase that lay out in front of him.

The stairs went down for a long time, and soon, Mukuro thought he was going to loose himself in the ever growing darkness and the steady echo of his footsteps. At last, the stairs gave way to a wide, low ceilinged hallway. Dusty light bulbs hung from the ceiling, a faint yellow glow splashing over the walls. Mukuro's gaze flicked forward and his grin widened at the sight in front of him. At the very end of the hallway was a heavy steel door, even sturdier than the one that guarded the entrance to the basement. Beside the door, a keypad and an iris scanner were planted onto the wall.

The mere sight of it made Mukuro's lips curl up. A toy like this was no problem at all for someone of his caliber. Drawing closer, he debated on whether he should blast a hole through the door just for the hell of it, or if he should break in sneakily and leave the poor man upstairs to figure out how someone could've broken in.

A wicked gleam entered Mukuro's eyes as he reached the door. Stepping up the iris scanner, mist flames gathered around his eye - his red one. The kanji six slid into the kanji ((the one for illusions)).

The light next to the keypad flashed green, and with a ding, the door swung open.

"Kufufu….now then," Mukuro snickered, a dangerous smile stretching across his face, "Let's see what we've got here."

The smell of decaying flesh and dried up blood smacked into him, and it took all of Mukuro's willpower not to gag and blow up the entire place. When his mind cleared and his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he suddenly regretted volunteering for this mission.

But he steeled his nerves and set his mouth into a thin line, slipping into a very professional mask that even Tsuna had only seen once or twice, as he slowly walked down the hallway. It was a short hallway, and at the end, a rickety wooden door stood. The nasty smell was wafting from there.

To his sides, were shelves, lining the walls from floor to ceiling. Binders and folders and filing cabinets were shoved onto the wall, and Mukuro curiously drifted over to read some of the labels.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

Stuck onto the spines of binders and labeled onto the filing cabinets where things like results of burnt skin experiment, observations of poison type 667, notes on death caused by vial 26.

His lip curled in disgust, and he felt his skin crawl. The ring on his finger glimmer slightly, and indigo flames began to curl around his fingers, creeping upwards before settling around his wrist. With a sigh, Mukuro shook his head and stepped back from the walls, swinging his gaze over to the door in front of him.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered darkly, eyes narrowing.

In silence, he pushed open the door, ignoring the way it creaked. Stepping through the doorway, his breath caught.

Cages filled up the room, crammed next to each other, stacked on top of each other. There was a clear pathway through the middle of the room, but other than that, it was nothing but a mess of iron boxes and bodies.

Bodies?

On alert, his trident swirled into existence, points gleaming in the dim light. A hushed silence fell over the room, and Mukuro suddenly realized that in each and every cage, a child huddled in fear. Some of the cages held lifeless bodies.

As he stood there, in the middle of room smelling of blood and sweat and other bodily excrements, of fear and lost hope and death, his mind whirled, and suddenly, Mukuro found himself in one of those very cages, wrapping his arms around his legs in fear and anger as white robed scientists hustled about.

Memories of his childhood, long repressed memories, came tumbling to the surface. He froze, and doesn't hear his trident clattering to the ground. Licking his dry lips, Mukuro willed himself to move, to step out of this damn trance and to pull his head out of the past.

It's only when he hears Tsuna's worried voice through the wireless hooked onto his ear does he realize he'd fallen to his knees, palm pressed against his head, teeth grinding together in an attempt to block out the putrid smell of fear that hung low and heavy in the room.

"Mukuro!" Tsuna yelled, jerking him out of his trance. "Mukuro, goddamn it, don't freeze up on me like that!"

A twisted smile played on his lips. "Tsunayoshi-kun, how're things going on your end?"

He hears a scoff. "Don't change the subject. Are you ok?"

At the question, Mukuro paused, sweeping his gaze around the room. It wasn't like he was a stranger to fear; he wasn't the head of Torture and Interrogation for nothing. But, he admitted to himself. This was a different kind of fear.

Steeling his nerves, Mukuro spoke into his wireless. "I'm perfectly fine, Tsunayoshi-kun. All I'm wondering is if I'm allowed to burn this place down."

For a minute, there was only silence. At his words, the huddled figures drew back even further, if that was even possible. Finally, his boss' voice crackled through the wireless, gentle but firm.

"You may not harm any but the target," Tsuna ordered. "We will deal with the rest after I finish up here."

As if on cue, a scream sounded in the background, followed by loud sobs. At the sound, Mukuro let out a soft snicker, pointedly ignoring his surroundings as he weaved his way through the room filled with cages, towards the door at the far end.

With every step, his face darkened, until he was positive that a malicious aura hung around him like a lingering ghost. Upon reaching the door, he placed a hand on the cool metal the shimmered under the dim light. His ring gleamed, and a veil of mist flames shrouded his hand - reacting to something beyond the door.

Licking his lips in anticipation, Mukuro's smirk grew, and he pushed open the door, trident ready in his other hand.

Beyond the door was a nightmare. Rooms upon rooms of laboratories, of liquid filled containers, of surgical tables, of memories long repressed. Mukuro forced down a growl, clenching his fists tighter as he stalked through the underground maze. As he passed by a still bloody surgical table, he almost snapped.

With a snarl, his foot smashed into the cot, sending it crashing to the floor. Indigo flames swirled around his trident, hardening into blade-like material, curling around him like a hurricane. God damn it, how he wanted to destroy this entire place.

At that moment, Tsuna's voice crackled through the wireless. "Mukuro, report."

His breath caught, and as his vision cleared, he realized that there was now a huge hole in the wall in front of him. Suddenly, he let out a huge, pent up breath, and laughed.

"Kufufu…..well…" Quickly running through a description of the labs and the test subjects (he went through these robotically - after all, he really didn't want to remember), he waited for a response.

"Mukuro." Young Vongola's voice cut through his report. "Mukuro, the clean up crew will be here soon. Don't move from your position, I'm coming to you."

Before the illusionist could answer, the dead silence told him that Tsuna had cut off correspondence. With a groan, he ran a hand through his hair, mentally shaking himself. Five minutes later, Vongola Decimo was by his side again, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It seems like he and his men picked children off the streets," Tsuna said quietly. "In the poorer areas of the country, he'd have no problem with finding…material." A cold, angry look flashed in the young man's eyes, but it was gone, quickly.

Gentle brown eyes flickered up to meet a steady gaze. "Mukuro, are you alright?"

With a low chuckle, the illusionist ran a gloved hand through his pineapple hair. "I do hope so, Tsunayoshi, I really hope so." His heterochromatic eyes gleamed, not with joy.

A smirk, a very unprofessional smirk, curled up Tsuna's lips. "Well then, let's blow this place up." At Mukuro's vicious grin, he frowned. "But first," cue groan, "let the clean-up crew get everyone out of here."

As if on cue, the door on the far side of the room swung open, revealing a team of dark robed men and women carrying all sorts of materials, from weapons to medical kits. They spilled through the room, swift and silent.

For a while, Tsuna was silent, standing next to a trembling Mukuro. Shifting his eyes upward, Tsuna said quietly, "He wasn't very prominent in the political world, just popular enough that the right people knew him."

"Apparently, he'd go to the slums and pick off the orphans. No one would notice, no one would care, and he'd get a nice selection of test subjects."

Mukuro grit his teeth. Falling into silence once again, Tsuna briefly shut his eyes. "Intelligence tells me that they had support from the Ago Familiga, and-"

A flash in his peripheral caused him to falter. A faint flicker of flame curled around Mukuro's wrist, pulsing. "Say no more, Tsunayoshi." The illusionist's voice, normally light and springy, was now flat, darkness seeping into each word.

Falling into silence, they watched the hustle and bustle for a bit before Tsuna gently touched Mukuro's hand, a pale orange flame circling both their wrists. "Let's go," Tsuna commanded, and he lead his mist guardian out of the room, up the stairs, and out into the night air.

The journey back to the Vongola base was a quiet one. Throughout the entire car ride, Mukuro was silent, staring out the window with a vacant expression. Even when they arrived at the base, and Chrome ran into the living room to greet her boss and Mukuro, he'd only ruffled her hair and slipped away, leaving an exasperated Tsuna and a thoughtful Chrome.

"I'll talk to him," Tsuna promised his female mist guardian, who replied with a tiny smile.

"He'll be ok," she said knowingly before bowing politely and leaving.

Lost in thought, the young don crossed his arms and shut his eyes briefly, a flash of orange appearing on his forehead. With a sigh, he shook himself before treading up the spiraling staircase, following after his mist guardian.

The room is dark and quiet. There are only two people, one a shivering mess and the other a firm anchor. There are no words, for there is no need for words.

Mukuro's head rests on Tsuna's shoulders, and his breathing has slowed to a steady rhythm. He's calmed down, Tsuna thinks with grateful smile.

"Tsunayoshi," Mukuro whispers suddenly, breaking into the silence. "Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me," he murmurs back, and for a moment, they are not boss and guardian, they are not Mafioso- they are only two children, finding comfort in one another.

With a chuckle, a rare, genuine smile, soft and fleeting, appears. "What would I do without you?" Mukuro asks. Underlying his words is a message that Tsuna hears loud and clear: thank you for being my sky.

Two weeks later, and the Italian newspapers were abuzz with gossip. An influential familiga, the Ago Familiga, was reduced to nothing overnight. Their headquarters burned, their main business crumbled, all that was left was a handful of traumatized individuals who could not, for the life of them, describe the tragedy of the night.

One of the luckier ones managed to stutter, "Vongola."

When asked, the Vongola denied any involvement with the destruction of the Ago and refused to comment further.

FIN CHAPTER 4

a/n: ….Once again, I'm really terribly sorry for not updating for over a year. Tell me your thoughts! Is there anyone you want to come next?