I'm studying for my finals, and all of the sudden I go, "Crap! It's Mukuro's birthday, and I haven't even done anything yet!'

I hope I make it in time…

The chill of his prison froze him to his bones, and was probably as dark to match that unsettling feeling. Not that he would know anyways, his eyes were firmly taped shut. Even if his eyes were open he probably wouldn't be able to see a thing, there was no bright warm sun waiting for him. Such an atmosphere only allowed him to drown deeper into despair, and the loneliness that he would always deny would gnaw him from the inside out.

The Vendicare were cruel, once they had something in their iron grasp, they would never see the light of day ever again. Seconds, minutes, days, weeks, months, years, decades could go by, and he wouldn't know the difference. Suspended in a timeless world, a world where all was nothing, but nothing was all.

He was rotting away here, and he could do nothing about it. The biting metal of his restraints bound his limbs, and even just twitching them sent shocks of pain down his body. But soon, even the pain dulled to nothing, and he no longer struggled for freedom. If only for those two who stood behind him so faithfully, he would stay for their future.

Even he knew that he would never leave. He would be stuck forever in this purgatory, until he drew his last breath. If the gods were merciful, they would let him die and go back to Hell, maybe this time for good.


One last time, he would like to see the sky. He wanted to reach his hand toward that beautiful bright blue sky just once more. He wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on his back, and he wanted to feel the wind through his hair, and light rain dancing across his skin.

He wanted to live.

But even if he wished it he would still be here, trapped for eternity, in the dark prison. Escape was futile. He would never leave this place alive.

He would never leave…

He would never be free again…

Suddenly, he felt the liquid around him drain, and felt the chilled air on his skin for the first time in years. His hair-had it gotten longer?- was plastered to his skin and his breathing was eratic.

Softly, he felt the warm touch of fingertips make contact with his clammy cheek. Soon, the nimble fingers ghosted over the rest of his face to his eyes. Gently, the nimble fingers lifted what had forced his eyes closed for all that time, and his eyes fluttered open.

The first thing he saw was a pair of glowing chestnut eyes and a warm smile.

"Happy birthday, Mukuro."

It was the first time he'd cried in years.