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A target.
So easy, so frighteningly easy. She could destroy him now, in a matter of moments. A bullet through his skull, a knife between his ribs, something sharp and unpleasant in his lungs—anything would do—and he would die oh so very slowly.
Her movements are sudden. A lunge, a flash of gleaming steel, and Makoto Naegi is on his back with a blade pressed to his throat. One sweep, and red would pour, flow over her fingers. She’s done it to others before and didn’t even stay to watch them die.
Shock has crossed his face but she sees not a bit of fear, and for that she smiles, tossing the knife because it’s all just for show anyway. “Better this time,” she says with a wolfish grin that spreads from ear to ear. It’s hers, not her sister’s, a trademark that belongs solely to the soldier—one of the precious few. “You managed to turn around at least before I caught you.”
Naegi chuckles, abashed, and when she leans down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, he reaches out, placing warm hands on her either side of her face and smiling in reply. Those hands are not made for fighting, she knows this, but self-defense is something she insists that he learn. Especially now, of all ages, with her sister’s Despair corrupting the world and draining it of color; to drown in grays and browns and red, red, red.
She needs him. She needs him more than he would ever know, and Mukuro sighs and rolls onto her back, off of him, staring up at the sky, wondering why her affections always swing in extremes. Still there was the desire to appease her sister, to bring her Despair and to see her smile—mad as it may have been, sweet as it may have been. But somehow the boy beside her has usurped her, conquered and overcame, brought light when no one else in the whole world could. With nothing but a smile. That had started it all.
I need you.
And he knows this, too. Has held her in his arms with the most extraordinary kindness. Has kissed every freckle on her face, telling her that she’s wanted and loved and he has no intention of ever going away. He never asks anything of her, has never made demands—no, he thinks she’s fine as she is. Perfect, even.
This boy’s entire face burns red as he stammers and talks but he gets his feelings through, be it by words or by actions; Mukuro has ever been an avid fan of action. After her sister, she’s grown tired of feelings spoken aloud.
He believes in the good in her. She believes that he’s right.
“Mukuro?” He asks, the cadence of her name jagged with nerves. He’s never used to speaking without honorifics and that fact makes her lips curl upwards. She watches with amusement as he leans over to look at her, perplexed. She seizes the opportunity to catch him off-guard once more, pulling him down, lips locking with his in a kiss that’s fierce but chaste.
He’s too nervous for deeper things and she’s not after that. She simply wants the comfort of his touch, the warmth that bleeds through his body like sunlight’s trapped beneath his skin. Mukuro hums her low laughter against his mouth and Naegi’s caught fire again, scarlet to his ears.
Naegi prefers to administer playful gestures—schoolyard motions that never fail to make her heart beat faster, simple as they are, honest as they are. They suit someone like him in the best way possible and that’s why she smiles and closes her eyes as he breaks the kiss, only to touch his lips to the tip of her nose, her forehead, to bury his face into the curve of her shoulder and neck.
It’s an unusually submissive position for a male but he’s an herbivore guy and she’s ever been a carnivore girl. Mukuro hugs him close and keeps smiling, shifting to gaze down at him, to take him in. He decides to return her stare, much to her surprise, further shocking her as he trails his hand down the side of her face and she instinctively leans into his touch, eyes slipping closed, and she feels peace--the only peace she's ever known.
She's a soldier, and has been at war for a long, long time. Lying with Naegi is like coming home at last.
“You’re amazing, Ikusaba-san,” he breathes in near-silent wonder, as if he can’t believe his luck, as if she’s so amazing he forgot they're on first-name basis and have been for quite a while.
She sighs in utter contentment.