Part II

~ the indisputable value of memories ~

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"Go away, I want to sleep."
"Oh, please do," said Mukuro cheerfully, as if he were some honorable guest, generously excusing his host.
Hibari scowled sideways down at him. "Get your worthless, rotten self lost, herbivore, before I bite you to death. We are not lovers."

"Kufufu – All the better, bird-boy," Mukuro leant back with a self-confident smile and began to roll a silver ring absentmindedly back and forth on his knuckles. "People who love one can be so tedious. The people who hate one, on the other hand," he tossed the ring up in the air and caught it with a sweeping motion in the palm of his hand, "are so much more interesting!"

Hibari gave a small snort of irritation, but didn't press the matter. Instead he pulled the blankets tighter over himself and rolled over to his side so that he had his back to Mukuro, who sat cross-legged and almost completely naked on the tatami floor next to the bed, skinny and beautiful like some Botticelli Buddha, the exquisite flats and sharp curves of his pale skin softly outlined in silver hues and blue shadows by the faint moonlight.

With a glint of playful malice in his red eye he conjured up a dark green wine bottle seemingly out of thin air. "So… are you still not drinking?"
"Go burn, hellspawn," Hibari (still with his back to Mukuro) growled through clenched teeth, his voice slightly muffled.
"Kufufu…!"

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Hibari, while being for all practical purposes immune to physical pain, did not handle alcohol very well.

The first time this unusual weakness was discovered Hibari was 17 and it was all Mukuro's fault.
He did it on purpose, too, even though he kept insisting he hadn't done anything at all (…but, really, they all knew it was him). It was he who did the equation, because he had not failed to notice how Hibari seemed to have a tremendous reaction to anything and everything that somehow affected his balance.
And so he had spiked the green ice tea that Hibari was so fond of with as much vodka as he thought he could get away with and then he had waited patiently.

He was not disappointed.

Hibari did not see him (because Mukuro did not want to be seen). He didn't see what Mukuro did to his drink either.
And, as it turned out, to the great delight of Mukuro (and absolutely nobody else), alcohol reigned in a league entirely of its own. Hibari had nearly thrashed the entire bar on his own in less than 10 minutes. And he'd only drunken half the glass…! Finally he had collapsed into the nervous arms of a clearly bewildered and nervous Dino Cavallone and then asked him in a slurry voice if he'd go to bed with him before he burst out laughing and fell promptly asleep.
While Hibari-the-Drunkard was being carried out by a very red-faced Dino, who promised to get him safely home (and definitely, definitely not exploit the situation in any inappropriate way whatsoever thankyouverymuch), Mukuro had picked up the half-empty glass with nimble fingers and stared at it in fascination.
What an absolutely wonderful result! He wondered what it would take to make Hibari drink Tequila…

What Mukuro did not know was for just how long the effect had lasted. Hibari had a perfect mess the entire next day, which he spent curled up on the bathroom floor, shaking with fever and cold sweat while the remains of the toxins coursed through his system.
And Dino Cavallone had to spend the next couple of weeks trying to convince everyone that he wasn't screwing Hibari Kyouya (Mukuro wondered if he ever had, though, but the Cavallone seemed to take great pleasure in not giving him a straight answer on that particular matter and asking Kyouya about it would feel like making a confession, or something equally below his dignity… so he couldn't be sure).

This was later referred to as the 'bar incident' by the Vongola, and had prompted a number of rather silly precautions be put in effect in order to keep Mukuro away from Hibari and Hibari away from alcohol. None of which worked particularly well, of course.

Mukuro had attempted to get him drunk on numerous occasions after that but Hibari, who could be quite clever, had quickly become an expert at evading him.

Mukuro, on the other hand, never missed an opportunity to drink whenever he could find an excuse to remain in his own form for any longer stretch of time that didn't strictly involve fighting. It was a small pleasure that he could never help but indulge.
It was also, however, a constant source of great irritation to Gokudera Hayato (who was never just a little annoyed whenever something rubbed him the wrong way) during the few meetings where all of the Vongola were gathered at the same time, when Mukuro would put away one glass of ruby red after another while enjoying the whispered quarrels between the hot-headed half-blood and his sword-wielding companion:
" – shouldn't fucking get drunk when things are this serious! He should listen to the 10th, damnit, can't he see he's worried?!"
"Ahaha, there now, calm down –"
"No, you calm down!"
"He looks fine to me. Let him have this, huh?"
"Don't take his side! …tch! Stupid jock…"

It probably didn't help that Rokudo Mukuro could drink a sailor under the table.

These meetings had occurred more and more frequently after the Millefiore had appeared on the scene, seemingly intent on wiping them all out...

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Mukuro felt a sense of deep melancholy creep over him where he sat, absentmindedly sipping on the expensive alcohol he had brought along for himself. In spite of the content feeling their previous activities had left him with, he felt strangely empty.

He, unlike the others (with the possible exception of Hibari), did not fear death. He was not like them.
But he did feel a strong, unbearable sadness when he thought of the past – a past they were planning on rewriting. He wondered if his own young self would be terribly confused once this desperate plan was put in motion, for surely he must be. He would probably be seething with irritation, wondering why his Chrome suddenly wasn't there anymore and whether he'd ever get to see Ken and Chikusa again.

Or Hibari, whom he had been agonizingly in love with… I'd be furious, thought Mukuro.
They wouldn't even have kissed yet, he realized. 10 years ago… Would they have even met each other for a second time? So many years, so many memories; all the things that had made him into him… What manner of person would his younger self become when he didn't know what he, what this Mukuro knew?

And what of his powers? The others, the other guardians, his Chrome included, would be training to become stronger – and with those rings, surely they would – but what about him? He had been equally matched against Hibari Kyouya once (in strength, anyway – when it came to cunning and deceit he had always been light-years ahead of the little blood-sucker), and almost equally matched against Sawada Tsunayoshi (not that he was bitter)… Would the younger him be?

"Will we come back again, you think?" he asked suddenly.
He was terribly bothered by his own dark thoughts, and he had spoken almost without realizing it.
Hibari lay still on his back with only his head turned toward Mukuro, watching him through half-lidded eyes. His expression was serious. "I don't know."
"It fascinates me, this thing we are about to do," admitted Mukuro. "I wish I could have observed it all…" He cast Kyouya a sideways glance. "Are you scared?"
"No." Hibari smiled lazily. "I'm not a cowardly bottom-feeder like you, after all, Rokudo Mukuro. I am strong so I have no reason to fear death."

"It is not the thought of dying that troubles me," said Mukuro quietly. "It's the thought of becoming nothing."
He took another sip of wine before he continued. "This…" he touched a hand to his own chest before looking over at Hibari, "and you…" He hesitated, an uncharacteristic thing for him, and his eyes said suddenly many things. "It will be as if we never existed, won't it? It will be as we're erasing our own selves and creating new versions."
He felt vulnerable and strangely exposed even as the words rolled off his tongue. He was being painfully honest now; he, who normally hid his true meanings and intentions within layer upon layer of encrypted words and misleading phrases. "All of this will have been for nothing."

The atmosphere had changed completely now. They so rarely were truly honest with each other, and the sudden seriousness of the situation weighed on them both like lead. It could have very easily developed into one of those tender, almost sentimental moments.
It didn't, of course.

"No, it won't. Now, shut up," said Hibari without sympathy and yawned. "You make a poor pessimist, Rokudo Mukuro, and if you don't stop this heartbreaking rant of yours I will bite you to death." While Hibari understood Mukuro better than perhaps anyone and knew he had his reasons for being melodramatic, he also knew that Mukuro was drawn towards Destruction like a moth to the flame. Come the End of the World – however nightmarish and excruciating and maddeningly bitter-sweet it may be – Mukuro, he knew, would welcome it with open arms, laughing and dancing all the way down to Hell. He was that kind of person. It was one of the things that made him interesting, and one of the (many) things that Hibari loved to hate about him.

"Kufufu…" Perfectly uninvited Mukuro climbed up into the bed, lay down beside him and snaked a hand around his waist. "You have no compassion."
"You have no moral," Hibari retorted. He tried to push it away, but only caused Mukuro to pull him closer. Hibari rolled his eyes – why could he never win with this guy?
"Moral is an illusion." Mukuro nuzzled the nape of his neck softly with his nose, tickling the silky strands of downy hair there. "A man-made illusion created to give weak and boring people and excuse not to indulge their hearts' true desires." He pressed his lips softly against Hibari's pretty neck, just below the ear, and rubbed the side of his face almost affectionately against the thick mop of hair. Their legs tangled together quite automatically under the blankets.

Hibari yawned and decided he didn't care. Mukuro could stay if he wanted. It was of no real matter, considering he would be forced by the boundaries of his own abilities to disappear soon enough anyway, and Mukuro would be gone before then (Chrome was the one thing in his life that was absolutely Sacred).
Their time together was and had always been limited, they both knew that.
"Compassion is what separates the hunter from its prey," he muttered in a drowsy voice. "It can be a fatal weakness to have…"

When he fell asleep at last, Hibari had Mukuro's skinny arms wrapped around him, protectively, possessively. His kisses smelled of something dark and rich and the tongue that traced the contours of his spine and the sharp shoulder blades was colored red like blood. Later he would kick Mukuro out of the bed on pure reflex while still deep in slumber. Hibari had some space issues. He was much more exhausted than he had known and slept deeply, so he never heard Mukuro's quiet whispering – so faint the words barely brushed his hair.

"It was always you, you know…"

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The morning after, Hibari did something out of the ordinary. If there had been anyone there to observe him, they might have thought his actions a bit peculiar – but there were, of course, no observers.

He would never admit that Sawada Tsunayoshi or Mukuro's words had had any effect on him, or that he had entertained similar thoughts himself (Hibari was nothing if not practical).

He didn't quite share Mukuro's concern, however.
No, in fact Hibari felt confident that the bonds between Mukuro and himself would remain quite the same, regardless of old memories and new experiences. He suspected that even after he was dead and buried, whenever that happened, he would probably open his dusty, sunken eyes to find some ectoplasm after-image of Mukuro floating beside him inside the coffin and greet him with that damnable smirk and some lame joke like 'oh my, fancy seeing you here'.
The thought did nothing to brighten his mood.

But that morning, once he had made certain that he was alone, he fished a small picture out from the pocket of his suit and hid it discreetly in a different pocket in a shirt that he folded neatly together and put back in his perfectly organized closet.

Some things, after all, cannot be erased.

"I didn't know about these, Mukuro-chan."

Mukuro was not entirely certain of whether Byakuran's almost child-like voice was part of his own hallucinations or if it was really there. Was he even awake? Glancing around he realized that Byakuran must have lifted him from the floor and carried him over where the couch was because that was where he lay sprawled now. The white cushions were streaked with blood. The physical pain had been pushed back in the priority queue of his consciousness to be replaced by the slow, dull, excruciating ache of exhaustion. He wondered vaguely what it was that kept him breathing still.

He blinked heavily and thought he saw Byakuran twirling two ornate rings between his long, tapered fingers. Both rings were big and extravagant. My Cursed Mist rings…
"Did you know that there are only 6 left of these in the entire world?" He gave Mukuro an eloquent look. "So far I only knew about the location of two of them." He held one of them up and seemed to marvel at its strange, vicious beauty. "Such power…!"

My, my, he is truly fascinated by these trinkets, Mukuro realized. He thought of the Mare rings, the Arcobaleno pacifiers, the Vongola rings that Tsuna had made them destroy and wondered if Byakuran had his sights set on collecting all of the cursed mist rings as well. How ambitious this man was!
Mukuro had a fleeting image that was at once crazy and wistful of how wonderful it would have been to have met Byakuran under different circumstances. We could have been friends, he thought …very briefly. And then I could have possessed your mind and body and taken over the world, easy as nothing. Oh well.

.

The other man's palm is warm against his skin when he places it on Mukuro's smooth cheek. "You might still be of some use to me after all, even if you don't have that Vongola ring."
Mukuro has no voice left to answer him with, and Byakuran's vile smirk widens. He is barely conscious at this point, hopelessly lost somewhere between reality and a half dream-like state. Again it is Kyouya he thinks of.

"You look like you want to ask me how come I haven't killed you yet."

"You look like you want to ask me how come I knew about your weakness when you yourself did not."
Pale pink petals fall like snow around them. There is a saying in Japan that the Sakura is so beautiful it can drive a man crazy.

Byakuran grabs him by the hair, pulls his head back and sideways to expose the neck, fingers trail his jaw. "Isn't that right, Mukuro-chan?"

His smile is cruel and mockingly sweet, his fingers tangled in the other's wild, pitch black hair, forcing the head up, his knuckles smeared with blood. And Kyouya is 15, so young and so heartbreakingly exquisite, his eyes hateful and burning with murderous intent, his lovely white skin marred by streaks of crimson and Mukuro thinks that yes, blood does indeed become the pale.
This one has not uttered a sound. He has not moaned or whimpered, begged, cursed, screamed or shed so much as a single tear. How fascinating he is, this one.

"It seems there is more to you than that pretty-boy face of yours. I might make some use of you yet."

Mukuro has already decided not to kill him.

"It's true that I could simply take these rings from you now and dispose of you as I originally intended. But you see, Mukuro-chan…" The fingers slips further down, closes around his neck – loosely, because this is a demonstration of power and nothing else. He leans his face closer, closer, until his snow colored hair tickles in Mukuro's face and his lips brush against his ear, and he whispers in a barely audible voice, "I have a secret way that is so much better."

Oh Kyouya, how you should have loved to see me now…!

Tsuna just wanted to protect them – he had wanted to protect them all!

Irie Shouichi had explained to him with downcast eyes what Byakuran was capable of, of the impossible things that he knew. It sounded pretty far off – different worlds, all coexisting at the same time, side by side, all destroyed beyond recognition by one man. But, then again, Tsuna thought, I can fly by means of a pair of mittens and a bullet between my eyes. Who am I to judge what's far off?

That was the reason why he had needed for Hibari to know all the details; one of the reasons, anyway. Of all his Guardians, Hibari was the one who could not be kept in the shadows. As complex a character as that man was, his solution to most troubles was, as it had always been, to bite them to death.
Once it became clear that not only the Vongola with their families and their allies were being targeted, but Namimori as well, it also became clear to Tsuna that he would have to take some sort of measures to ensure that Hibari Kyouya wouldn't go and get himself killed or kidnapped or worse.
The other reason was that Hibari had the means to act independently from the Vongola family itself – a point he made certain to stress on any and every given occasion, much to Gokudera's irritation.

Their plan was extremely complex (more and more so) and required that a lot of things went very smoothly. He needed Hibari on this. And Hibari was right, of course, in assuming that Mukuro was their best card when it came to spying on Byakuran, on finding out the things about him that Irie Shouichi could not (also Hibari, who, it turned out, had met Byakuran face to face, had assured him with a shudder of contempt and eyes like freezing hell that if they didn't murder each other first Byakuran and Mukuro would probably become best buddies. According to him they were the same breed of herbivore).

Tsuna had a certain control over Rokudo Mukuro (he had some control, kind of) through Chrome – otherwise he suspected that Mukuro, too, would no doubt be half-way through executing one of his intricate, extravagant schemes, aiming to ultimately possess Byakuran and take over the world himself. Yes, he probably would.

Those two gave him headaches…

Even now, when they were all adults, Mukuro and Hibari still had a way of making him feel uneasy. They seemed, somehow, to belong to an entirely different league from the rest of them, as if they belonged to the same kind of dangerous species, and still they both had an air about them that made Tsuna feel like a small child intruding while the grown-ups were talking.

When he was still alive Reborn had told him that the tension between those two was only to be expected. Cloud and Mist are brothers by nature, he'd explained, just like Gokudera and Lambo. But while Gokudera and Lambo's frequent bantering had resulted in nothing worse so far than a couple of singed eyebrows and proof that Gokudera might one day make a half-way decent father (should he ever choose to become one), Mukuro and Hibari's ended always, it seemed, in blood and destruction, near-death experiences and lots and lots of damage repairs. They just wouldn't listen!

The thing was that if Byakuran got a hold of them, either of them, they were screwed…

But he couldn't spend his energy brooding over that, not now. Their plan was coming together, piece by piece, and it was as intricate as anything that even Rokudo Mukuro could have concocted.

Mukuro would die first, and with him, Chrome would vanish, too. Hibari would disappear, Irie Shouichi would work against them intensely, Ryôhei would go to Italy… and he, Sawada Tsunayoshi, the 10th generation Vongola boss would die last.

Their entire family would appear to be dissolving, the mighty Vongola beaten at last…

And then they would really disappear, one by one. And, with a little help, they would reappear at the right time in the right places. And with them they would have the Vongola rings. The rings that would help them open up those boxes. Hibari and Ryôhei would come back to Namimori and the Millefiore would get a new employee. Yes, so far, so good. But that was only a fraction of it all and there were just so many things that could go wrong!
He worried greatly about Chrome. Not Mukuro, so much. Mukuro's enthusiasm when it came to conspiracies was right up there with Haru and Kyoko-chan's when it came to cakes and he expected his enigmatic Mist Guardian would probably be having a blast spying on Byakuran.

No, he couldn't worry, couldn't be having these thoughts, not now! It would work. It had to work!

He suddenly missed Reborn tremendously…

In spite of himself, Mukuro had to admit that he was a little impressed. He had met his match. And what fearsome match it was…

'I can erase souls…'

As much as the thought of what was about to be done unto him terrified him, he also was quite in awe of what his opponent was capable of. For now he knew exactly what it was that made Byakuran so terribly dangerous. But, then again, that was what he had come for, was it not?
Wonderful, he thought, now I know. I actually found out everything I came for! The thought gave him some satisfaction. His mission at least could be said to have been a success, even though he'd probably never be able to tell it to anyone.

How sad that it was this man who would be the one to finally kill him (except he wouldn't really die, per se), and not Kyouya.
Hibari had promised him more than once that, in the end he and none other would be the one to bite Mukuro to death. And Mukuro, who felt that he had truly meant it and who felt touched at this twisted declaration of devotion, had quite looked forward to it. What a sweet battle it would have been!

Arrividerci, Kyouya. I really do love you, you know. Guess we'll be tearing each other to bits in a different life.

And his vision went bright, blindingly white. And then he died.

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Except...

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…Except he didn't!

1 heartbeat, 2 heartbeats…
He waited.
...3 heartbeats!
Then, carefully, with the tentative notions of one who has been expecting a blow that doesn't come, Mukuro began to search with his mind. With a growing sense of astonishment he realized that there were suddenly a number of things that he had been that he no longer were. First of all, and perhaps most notably, the pain was gone – the pain, and the terrifying feeling of being trapped that had been inside that room. Secondly he was, in fact, quite aware and quite himself and he didn't feel very much erased at all.

And also, thirdly, he was not alone…

While Mukuro was enjoying what he thought were his last minutes in life contemplating his perverted love for Hibari, and admitting his grudging admiration for Byakuran and his abilities, it would perhaps have humored him to know that in a very different part of the world the object of his affection was having almost the exact same thoughts.
And if Mukuro had been able to watch Hibari Kyouya's last minutes as an adult in this world, he would have been proud.

The difference was that Hibari's feeling of growing respect for his current opponent was quite untainted by hatred and served to fuel his excitement rather than his fury. He could, in fact, vividly recall the last time he had wanted to kill someone this badly and, incidentally, that battle, too, had been against a Mist Illusionist. They truly were a gut-wrenchingly irritating breed of herbivore, he thought, and felt a sting of disappointment when he realized he would probably not be able to finish this.

Genkishi thought perhaps that he had already won when Hibari suddenly resigned to blocking and parrying and making no attempt to fight back even though his deadly tonfa – his only weapon now that they were trapped inside what seemed to be an illusionary dimension created inside the Cloud hedgehog, which was his only other weapon – were being sliced apart bit by bit.
"Do you want to die?"
But then again, this sudden defensiveness might have served only to strengthen Genkishi's growing feeling of uneasiness. The comments, drawled in a lazily amused voice certainly did and Genkishi wondered, perhaps, if the Vongola didn't still have an Ace up their sleeve somewhere. But Hibari was quite unreadable.
"Why would I? The one who will be bitten to death is you."

If Genkishi had ever met Rokudo Mukuro, he might have recognized the malicious little smile and that final intrusion of personal space, when Hibari's lovely, blood-spattered face was suddenly mere inches from his own – both of which were tricks that Mukuro used quite often, in fact, to creep out his enemies (or toys, as he affectionately liked to think of them). And in a low, husky voice practically purred, "…I'm so jealous!"

Yes, Hibari's final action was a small ode to the first opponent whom he had found truly worthy to be his Nemesis in this world – it was his own twisted perception of a heartfelt goodbye.
…I'll chase you to Hell if I have to, you filthy, good-for-nothing brain-leech, he thought (with a very small but quite sincere smile) as he closed his eyes, and then the world around him seemed to explode.

Less than 10 minutes later Genkishi found himself being insulted by a thin, insolent boy in a school uniform perched on a pile of rubble.

"Ah, Fran, what a… pleasant surprise. Your timing is impeccable. You received my instructions, then, I presume."

Mukuro was far more pleased, relieved, surprised and a whole lot of other positive and appreciative things than he would ever let on in front of the other. It had worked… It had actually worked! Their plan – they would succeed now, surely they would! And hope flared up in his chest like some warm, living thing.

"Uh-huh," Fran's thoughts were a drawled mumbling, almost as if he were bored. "That thing with the Millefiore dragged out," he explained.
"And my Chrome?"
" – is where he promised she'd be. "
Mukuro pressed on. "Is she well?"
"Miss Chrome is fine. The Duck made her use her ring when you were cut off."
The trend Ken had started of referring to Hibari as 'Duck' had been picked up by all of Mukuro's immediate subordinates – all except Chrome, who still respectfully called him 'the Cloud Person'.

Relief, oh sweet relief… Everything (well, very nearly everything) was going according to plan. Certainly they had veered off and skidded down to some half-way solution between Plan C and D, it seemed, but his Chrome was alive and he had escaped, as he always did, with all the information he needed. Because he knew Byakuran's tricks now, knew how he could be defeated – how they could win!

Soon I'll be free!

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Epilogue

~ aftermath/prelude ~

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It was almost midnight. On the darkened playground above the secret Vongola hide-out, two little pinpricks of glowing orange could be seen. They made almost no movement, but occasionally the glow would intensify until it was almost yellow before it faded back into orange.

Dino Cavallone inhaled deeply and patted the cigarette to rid it of excessive ash. "Never thought I'd say this, but I am glad to see you." He glanced up at Mukuro, who sat perched up on top of the swings, idly dangling his legs like a kid on the pier.
"Kufufu…" Mukuro chuckled and blew tiny, perfect smoke-circles. "Likewise, Cavallone, likewise…." The circles twirled together to form intricate floral formations in the air.

There was a moment of quietness.

"He didn't tell me he was going to switch himself, you know," said Mukuro suddenly.
"We needed all the rings," said Dino and shrugged. He didn't need to ask whom Mukuro was referring to. "He didn't really have a choice. Thanks to Chrome we were able to keep you, at least."

Mukuro looked away. It had not occurred to him that Hibari would be gone when he returned. Of course they needed all the rings, and yes, his stay with Byakuran had been slightly prolonged, but somewhere in his mind Mukuro had still conjured up the belief that Kyouya would be there when he came back to them – his Kyouya.
Not this prideful young one who was all teeth and spikes out and degrading insults…

"Are they the same person, I wonder," he said quietly, almost to himself.

Now it was Dino's time to chuckle. "Oh yeah, he's Kyouya, all right…!" Absentmindedly he rubbed his arm, which, although one couldn't tell in the darkness, was a patchwork of Technicolor bruises. "He won't listen to a word I say and he won't admit defeat even if you take him down by force. I'd almost forgotten how wild he was when he was young."

I remember, thought Mukuro and again he looked away. I remember everything.

"And just wait 'til you see what his Vongola box weapon is!" Dino laughed. "You should've seen the look on his face when he first unleashed it!"

.

What the two men on the dark playground did not know was that while they were having their private little conversation, the object of it was currently rifling through his older self's possessions in attempt to quench his thirst for information he would never (ever) admit that he actually wanted.

Hibari had always assumed that he would be tall when he grew up, and so it was not without a small amount of disappointment that he had found the clothes worn by his adult self and realized that he had not been – or would not be – a large man. He had shown absolutely no interest in the premises where his older self had resided when Dino and Kusakabe had attempted to show it to him. But after they had both gone away or gone to sleep, he had wandered through each and every room, peeked in every closet and walked every path in the elegant garden. He had wondered if it had all been designed by him and thought, with a perfectly unreasonable feeling of begrudge, that he rather liked it.

He had been far more curious than he had let on – and as soon as he felt he had sated his curiosity regarding himself, he moved on to the others.
He found pictures in some of the drawers and attached to some of the files. None were of him. This pleased him, because Hibari had never been able to stand being photographed and he smiled in quiet acknowledgement.
At least the older him had not been a complete herbivore.

Sawada Tsunayoshi, who looked the youngest of them now – younger than he really was, even – would grow up magnificently, he saw from a group photo. He wouldn't be as tall as Yamamoto Takeshi or Gokudera Hayato, though, for they were in the picture, too, flanking their boss on either side and both were tall as towers. And there was Sasagawa Ryôhei who, dressed up in a suit and with an almost serene expression on his masculine features, looked nothing like himself and next to him stood a boy in a cow-printed shirt that Hibari didn't know. There were pictures of his own crew there as well. Kusakabe and Morita and Nakamura… They looked pretty much the same way they always had, he thought, but suspected that while they may have retained their proportions they had probably increased massively in size. And there was his bird!
As he lay flat on his stomach with the contents of the desk drawers spread out on the floor, it annoyed him that not all the photos seemed to have some important, official purpose of some sort. Those that weren't attached to pieces of paper, though they could be counted on one hand, looked suspiciously like something a weak, plant-eater might keep.

As he shuffled through them all, he couldn't help but notice that, in addition to himself, there was someone else whose face he could not find. And he realized with a feeling of growing irritation that he had been sub-consciously searching for it.

But when he did find it (for he really did find it) it disturbed him far worse than anything else he had found that day.

A tiny photograph fell out from the breast pocket of one of the shirts he tried on afterwards. And there he was. Rokudo Mukuro, smirking up at him, squinting against bright sunlight and Hibari felt it like a punch to the guts. There was nothing official about it at all and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know why he had found it in his clothes, rather than in some file. There was no one else in the picture, just the androgynous, angel-like visage of a much older Mukuro, with his red eye and blue-black hair in his pretty face, and there was nothing written on it.

His lip curled in contempt at this display of sentimentality, however discrete it might be, but his eyes lingered at the photo and he eventually put it his own breast pocket.

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Author's note: …and that's as far as the manga has gotten (at this point)! I have no clue what will happen next, but I really hope they let the young Hibari meet the adult Mukuro at some point – is it too much to ask for a little fan-service?

About Mukuro's rings – he wore two during his fight against Byakuran (at least from what I could tell when I watched the anime) and they looked a lot like the cursed mist rings that were introduced a little later, so I guessed that Mukuro had somehow acquired two of the 6. But then I watched it again and now I think that maybe he only has one and that the other ring is something else – but I do think that he has one!
Also, I believe the adult versions will continue on with their lives as before once the Future Arc ends.

So, umh, hope you enjoyed this, I've had it in my mind since forever ^_^
Reviews are (of course and as always) EXTREMELY greatly appreciated!