A few days later.
The weather had warmed slightly. People on the streets now wore light jackets, some with just a single layer. Mukuro and Toji stood out from the crowd. With their hardened bodies, they moved in nothing but short sleeves, unfazed by the ten-degree chill.
Carrying only a single change of clothes each, the brothers traveled light. They boarded an express and soon arrived at their destination: Tokyo.
They stepped off at the station, sunglasses on, strolling at ease like tourists with no cares. In the busy streams of traffic and rushing people, the two looked completely out of place.
"Do we scout the place first, or grab something to eat?" Toji lifted his glasses slightly and asked.
"What's the rush? Since we're in a new city, we should enjoy ourselves a little," Mukuro replied with a grin, patting his pocket. They were flush with cash now, and Tokyo, the most prosperous city in the country, was the perfect place to indulge.
But as soon as he said it, he froze. A bad premonition crept in.
"Yeah, you're right. Makes sense. Call me if something comes up," Toji smirked, clearly thinking of something fun, then he disappeared into the crowd in a blur. The passersby only felt a sudden gust of wind.
He never worried about leaving his younger brother behind. In his mind, very few in this world had the skills to give the boy real trouble.
"That bastard…" Mukuro stood stunned, staring at the empty space where his brother had been. A sigh escaped his lips. With no other choice, he walked on alone, his small figure swallowed by the bustling city.
Amid curious stares, he entered a massive shopping mall.
Then stopped in his tracks.
Mukuro had thought himself wealthy now, but here, surrounded by endless displays, he realized otherwise. Everywhere he looked, clothes and brands bore price tags marked in the thousands or even tens of thousands of yen.
What shocked him most was a simple ice cream shop ahead. The line stretched long, yet even there, every item on the menu started in the thousands.
He suddenly wondered if he had asked for too little money from Ninagawa.
Still, curiosity won out. He joined the line, determined to see what kind of ice cream dared cost 2000 yen.
* * *
Ten minutes later, it was Mukuro's turn.
A young female employee behind the counter spotted him. Seeing that the adults behind weren't with him, she leaned forward with a gentle tone.
"Little boy, are you here by yourself? This ice cream is very expensive. You should ask your parents to come buy it for you. How about I save your spot while you go get them?"
"I don't have parents," he answered casually.
The Zenin couple didn't count. If he had to name a family, it was only that bastard brother of his.
"Huh?" The girl stiffened. Around them, people turned curious, some casting sympathetic glances. The worker behind the counter seemed at a loss for words.
"But I have money. I want that one," he added, pointing toward a picture on the menu. A triple-scoop cone.
"O-of course. Please wait a minute!" The girl's face flushed. She glanced again at the boy in thin clothes despite the weather, replaying his words in her head. She regretted what she'd said earlier.
Hurriedly turning, she began preparing his order herself, moving faster than usual.
In moments, the cone was ready. Three scoops of ice cream, each a different color, stacked neatly on top.
"Hey, handsome little boy, let me pinch those cheeks. If you let me, I will treat you to this ice cream, okay?" The employee crouched down, holding out the cone as if tempting him.
"No need." Mukuro didn't understand what she imagined in her head. He simply snatched the cone, pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, peeled off two one-thousand yen notes, stuffed them into her hand, and walked away without looking back.
"Uh…" The girl blinked at his departing figure. Somehow she felt like she was the one who should be pitied, not him.
* * *
Mukuro licked the ice cream a few times, unimpressed. "Average. Overpriced like every other mall gimmick."
It tasted no different from the cheap ones in Kyoto that cost just a few dozen yen. Maybe a slightly richer milk flavor, nothing more.
He finally understood. All that talk about imported milk sources and international production was just marketing. Wrap a product in foreign labels, add some nice stories, and the price shoots up.
A few quick bites, and what others saw as a luxury treat vanished like grass in a cow's mouth.
Bored, Mukuro walked around aimlessly until he reached the top floor of the mall.
Zzzzt! zzzzt!
As he was about to head downstairs, a strange sound crackled in the air. The lights flickered, then the entire mall went dark. Though it was still daytime, the atmosphere grew heavy and dim.
Bang!
A loud crash followed. All exits slammed shut, even the emergency doors were forced closed.
"What's happening?!"
People around him began to panic, voices rising in confusion.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire cut through the noise. Armed men in black, wearing grotesque demon masks, appeared at every exit. Those who had rushed forward, desperate to escape, were shot down instantly. Their bodies fell before everyone's eyes, and the scene turned to chaos.
The crowd screamed, stumbling back in terror, trying to distance themselves from the masked gunmen.
"Stay calm. We're only here for money. But if you refuse to cooperate, you'll make things very difficult for us," a booming voice announced.
Mukuro glanced up. On the second floor, leaning lazily against the glass rail, stood a towering man with a loudspeaker. His tone wasn't harsh, but it quieted the crowd. Nobody wanted to be the next body on the floor.
"Good. Now, everyone on each floor, head down to the first-floor lobby. Don't even think about hiding."
The man's calm command echoed as his men spread out. Some stayed at the exits to keep watch. Others climbed the stairs, herding people downward.
"You, brat! Why are you just standing there? Don't you know disobedience gets you killed?"
Two gunmen in black approached Mukuro, raising their weapons threateningly.
"Don't shoot! My friend's just scared stiff. We'll go down now!"
A voice rang out as a boy about the same age as Mukuro darted over, standing protectively in front of him.
"Then hurry it up!"
The gunmen barked but didn't fire. They waved their rifles, urging the two forward.
"Don't worry. I'll protect you," the boy whispered. His forehead glistened with sweat, but he still tried to reassure the kid before him.
"I'm not scared."
Looking at the boy's bangs falling across his forehead, Mukuro couldn't help but smile.
**
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