I wrote this at like, 4:00 in the morning while laying in bed thinking about KHR.

Sleep is important, apparently... maybe that would explain why this is only about 16-hundred word count

Mukurou drummed his fingers against the dark cherrywood armrest of his polished leather chair. The amused smirk that was usually painted on his face was currently replaced with a distinct frown. He glared at the double doors of his office, as if blaming them for his disposition.

"Mukurou-sama..." came the voice of one of his three closest associates, Joushima Ken. "I'm sure his meeting is just taking longer then he thought it would, byan." the blond reasoned, fiddling with his bobby-pinned bangs. Kakimoto Chikusa, who sat quietly next to Ken on the windowsill, nodded his head in agreement.

Mukurou drummed his fingers especially hard, mismatched eyes narrowing.

"For Tsunayoshi's sake that had better be the reason." the Mist guardian uttered forebordingly. Ken glanced at Chikusa, who subtly checked his Rolex.

Mukurou stood up from his throne-like chair to start pacing back and forth on the persian rug, his long ponytail swaying in his wake.

"I clearly said at 4:30 this evening sharp, did I not? Chikusa, what time is it?" he asked, stopping to look over at the glasses wearing man.

"5:42 pm, sir."

Mukurou's pacing resumed, his glare at nothing intensified.

"And hour and twelve minutes he's late! Inexcusable, I'll have to make sure he's punished quite severely for this." the Illusionist muttered, words trailing off in mumbled Italian. Ken stretched his arms up, baring his overly sharp teeth in a wide yawn.

"Naa, Dokuro went to that meeting didn't she? Call her cell phone, byan." he offered. Mukurou stopped pacing once again, blinking.

"Chrome went? Why didn't she tell me?" he asked, seemingly agahst. Chikusa pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.

"She did tell you, though I believe at the time you were focused on the Vongola across the lawn." he replied. Mukurou wasted no time whipping out his cell phone and pressing speed-dial. His loyal subordinates looked on as their boss's hopefully dangerous smirk faded back into a glare as he slapped his phone shut.

"She's got it off!! Why has she got it off?!" he demanded incredulously, gripping the device hard enough to extract creaking from the protesting plastic. Ken frowned.

"That's not like her at all, byan. She'd sooner gouge out her only good eye before ignoring Mukurou-sama." he said. Mukurou threw his phone into the fireplace and headed to the door.

"Enough of this nonsense, I'll find Tsunayoshi myself. And make him very sorry when I do." he seethed, slamming the heavy wooden doors shut behind him.

Ken and Chikusa glanced at one another.

"Over attachment..." Chikusa observed, Ken just sticking out his tongue in a wide toothed grin.


Mukurou's polished leather boots clacked against the pale pink marble flooring of the Vongola Mansion's Forth Wing Corridor, the Mist Guardian set on his way to the house's main entrance.

What Rokudou Mukurou hated moer then the Mafia, more then prison, and more then Hibari Kyouya, was being ignored even the slightest bit by Sawada Tsunayoshi. Not that it happened often, oh no, Mukurou would not allow himself to be ignored.

He purposely made sure to set up meetings with the meek Mafia boss as least every other day. In fact, Mukurou was supposed to go with him to whatever meeting had been taking place, but Tsuna had waved him off, agreeing to meet with him personally after 'the boring stuff was out of the way'.

'And the little tart dared to skip out on me!' Mukurou thought furiously as he crossed into the main lobby of the vast entrance way. He made it about halfway to the door before he slowed, and abruptly turned around to face the way he came.

The main double doors of the mansion were open, he could tell from the echoing sound of rain pouring out over the grounds outside. He knew this, though he wasn't looking in that direction.

"Mu... Mukurou...sama..."

The illusionist didn't turn even at the voice of his female counterpart. His eyes were wide, staring away from the main entrance. He ignored Chrome's small voice behind him.


He could hear the gasping strain in her voice, which he knew was the tone she often had when she cried. Mukurou tilted his head down, eyes darting to his shoes, but still refused to turn back around.

'That sort of thing... it is absolutely not the case...'

He stumbled slightly, only just catching himself as Chrome's small frame collided with his back, her face burrowing against his shoulder blades.

She smelt of blood. Blood and gunpowder. He could see through his bangs that the thin hands that clutched his jacket and shirt were stained a reddish brown. She was gasping out words between her massive sob; Italian words, twisted from her natural Japanese accent.

"Mi... Millifiore...!!" she stuttered helplessly against his spine. Mukurou's fingers twitched.

"I wont say turn around, Mukurou... But you know already. I know you already know..."

The Vongola's Rain Guardian sounded far older then Mukurou recalled him being. His voice was rough and worn; he'd been shouting recently. Screaming.

Mukurou's boot shifted, turning so slowly on its heel. Even slower, his body followed suit, but not his eyes. The remained averted.

He could smell the blood.

"It was a trap. The Millifiore... Byakuran set up a trap for him... He didn't think that they would... Of course he wouldn't be suspicious of someone he was only just meeting... But they... He..." The swordsman trailed off, and Mukurou could hear his throat closing up. The sound of a strong man weeping.

"Mukurou-sama...! He protected us! He protected all of us, but not himself! He...! He didn't even try!!" Chrome cried, collapsing onto her knees, hands covering her face. Mukurou's eyes fought his own desires, and against his will they slid over to just beyond the double doors.

Hibari Kyouya was standing in the farthest corner, messy bangs shadowing his eyes and hands gripping tightly at his biceps while he crossed them.

Yamamamoto was still leaning against the wall to support his body while he hid his crying face.

Gokudera Hayato wasn't even in the house; he knelled outside in the downpour, upper body streached out on the cement stairs, allowing himself to be drowned slowly by the falling rain.

There were thick trails of blood smeared across the floor leading to each present Guardian, each of their wound-less bodies covered in the dark red.

All this... But Tsuna was not among them.

Tsuna hadn't come back.

"He's dead." Hibari stated flatly, his tone never more empty then when it had left his lips with those words. The words that made the whispers in Mukurou's head become reality. The words that made the kanji for 'six' spin, and the number four blooming in its wake, awash in the sea of red.

He didn't recall a time when the Cloud Guardian and himself had fought so wildly. Technique, weapons,a nd insults forgotten from pure crazed insistence and denial.

Mukurou would kill Hibari Kyouya with his own hands. That would prove that what the man had said was a lie. If he killed him, the blood would disappear. The rain would cease and clouds would part and there would be a blue sky again.

But as the two crashed into antique tables, destroyed whole walls and staircase banisters, nothing was changing.

Chrome continued to sob, wrapped into the chests of her silent Kokuyou partners. Yamamoto had sunk down to the floor, large blood drenched hands still covering his face as his chest convulsed after every inhaled breath. And outside, Gokureda continued to let the rain swallow him up, outstretched arms being washed of the blood drop by drop.



"We got a message from the Vongola base over in Namimori."

Mismatched eyes lazily slid over to the speaker.

"Oya..? Wha is it this time..."

The spiky blond haired man pushed a file towards his boss, his green eyes averting nervously.

"Mukurou-sama... about this, you..."

But Mukurou had already seen the picture attachment. He was already staring at big naive copper eyes that stared past whatever camera had taken the surveillance shot, a mop of chestnut brown spikes and a familiar 'lucky orange jaket' was all Mukurou needed to see.

His gloved hand moved to the main memo, and he raised a dark eyebrow at its message.

'Sawada Tsunayoshi has returned from the past. Gather the Guardians.'

Ken shifted back next to Chikusa and Chrome, eyes darting, unsure of what would happen now. Chrome blinked her only exposed eye, fiddling with her long ponytail.

"Mukurou-sama... What will we do?" she asked softly, testing the waters. It had never, never been wise to even mention the person Mukurou had lived for most in the world.

The Italian illusionist drummed his fingers against the hardwood of his desk, lips curling into a smirk that had once been amused, but was now something to be feared among all else.

Dangerous... this is dangerous...

"Return a favor to the Millifiore. Protect the Sky with all the power of the Mist."

Mismatched eyes fixed upon the boy in the photograph.

I will not forgive you... for leaving me to wait for you to come back.

Possibly one of a multi-chaptered set, each one set with a different Guardian reaction to Tsuna's assasination.