Crossing Times [KHR Fanfic]

Mists

Mukuro watched slowly as the limousine rolled away, bringing his "family" away from them. He did not need them to stay here and help him. He needs them to fight the others as well. He would follow soon after he is done with the woman in front of him.

"I still think it's stupid to send them all to their graves." She stated, curling her hair around her finger.

Mukuro quirked his eyebrows, his eyes flickering indigo. He twirled his trident, conjuring up different images that only she could see. There was a column of flames, a strong gust of the wind, weird pineapples with limbs that were taller than her walking towards her. There were even a few instances of Daemon appearing, flickering at every corner. Even though her eyes keep looking at them, her guard was up and he knows. The illusions were nothing in her eyes.

That was how much training she went through.

He decided not to approach her at that moment. And he would play it that way.

"But I'm going to trust his intuition. I believe that what he did was right." He claimed, his illusions growing stronger at every passing second. His will is not to protect his boss but his family and Elena -Chrome, this time round; and she is his sibling now, the same kind of blood running through their veins. A pity that they cannot date though.

"Even though he removed more than half of the soldiers and caused Elena's death?" Her lips twitched up when she saw the man freeze and tighten his grip on his trident. She took out her own pocket knife, ready for a battle of the brains. The knife is merely an extra.

Mukuro shook out of his trance and glared at her. "That... is a fact that cannot be changed. However, I must thank him for that, bringing all of us back. Though I'd wish he brought us to a mafia-stable era. I loath them." He sneered, spitting a bit of saliva right before a feet.

The woman scrunched up her nose in disgust, flinching away from that small amount of dirt. She dusted the imaginary dust off her boots, then her clothes. These things are expensive, something you can never buy from lowly areas.

"Oya? You're dusting your boots? I suppose your shoes are more important than your face. That makes me less guilty if I'm gonna bruise it. You use a lot of make up to doll yourself up, but looks insanely like a grandmother." (A/N: No offense to anyone. I love my grandmothers too) He mocked, creating what seemed to be an elderly version of her. Her face had many wrinkles, her cheeks sagged and her eyes drooped, losing their shine. Her hair is grey and the make-up on her face made her look hideous.

Her face turned red, furious at that man. Who does he think he is, to mock her like that? "I'm older than you, you little twit! Show some respect to me!"

There was a momentary silence. "I'll set my pride on one side and bravely tell you this." He coughed into his hand and created a stronger illusion of Daemon, who seemed almost too real. "I'm this handsome looking man from nearly four centuries ago. YOU should be the one showing some respect."

He dashed forward, his hands up high to swing his trident down on the other. His illusion had a scythe and it swung its hands. While it was a smart move, his opponent was faster and managed to narrowly leap between the two sharp weapons. The trident and the scythe collided, the latter disappearing into thin air.

The male clicked his tongue and tightened his fist. "Damn!"

She cackled loudly in amusement. "GOSH! Is age catching up to you that you've become so slow?" She drew her blade and cut his arm, forcing him to loosen his grip on his weapon. She then kicked his hand, causing him to let go of his trident, falling onto the floor.

He shot her a comical shocked expression, his mouth agape and eyes wide. His arms stretched out, recoiling and extending for several times. His words came out choppy and breathless. "H-how c-can you do this to my-my precious?!" His eyes were just about to tear.