Happy @danganrarepairweek! Here’s some Mukuro x Kyoko for the Fireworks prompt!
“Tell me if this gets to be too much,” Kyoko warns for the twelth time. “I don’t want you to end up-”
“I appreciate your concern, Kyoko, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Mukuro says. “And I can push my wheelchair myself, you know.”
Begrudgingly, Kyoko lets go and allows Mukuro to wheel herself on her own. “I realize that. I just… worry, Mukuro,” she admits.
The soldier sighs and stops rolling the chair. “Kyoko. I’ve survived multiple missions that were straight-up suicide for my squadmates. A sprained ankle will not be the death of me.” She resumes pushing herself, Kyoko following behind quietly.
Eventually, they reach the same grassy knoll the rest of their classmates are sitting on, preparing for the upcoming fireworks. Kyoko excuses herself, leaving Mukuro alone to think.
When she and Junko were first accepted at Hope’s Peak, she never anticipated having an actual, normal school life. She was positive Junko’s desire for despair and chaos would lead her to do… something. Instead, for the first time in their lives, Junko was content. Bored, yes, but happy enough to be an average student for once. Well, as average as an Ultimate could be, anyway.
And as for Mukuro, well, she wasn’t sure if she’d even survive to see high school. Running off to join Fenrir was not a decision she regretted, but she realized the risks that such a life would involve. But no. Here she was, enjoying a festival with her friends like any seventeen-year-old would. Friends. The word still felt foreign to her. There were no such thing as friends on the battlefield, not when your comrades could die at any moment. You had allies at best. But for the first time, Mukuro Ikusaba had friends.
Not just that, she thinks as she observes the others. Junko and Sayaka are taking selfies in their yukatas; Makoto is flanked by Hifumi and Leon. She’s here with Kyoko, her girlfriend.
Eventually, Kyoko returns, carrying two taiyaki. She hands one to Mukuro wordlessly. Mukuro takes it, forcing herself to savor it and not just scarf it down. “I’m sorry for snapping,” she whispers as the sky begins to ignite.
Kyoko kneels beside her wheelchair, taking her hand. “It’s alright… I admit I’ve been a bit of a worrywart, and I apologize for my behavior as well.”
She’s so beautiful, reflected in the reds and blues and yellows of the fireworks, that Mukuro falls back into her pattern of trusting her instincts. She leans forward, quick as lightning, and presses a kiss to her lips. “I love you,” she breaths, barely audible over the booms and cracks.
It reminds her too much of war. Her body itches for combat, to hide, to do anything but sit in this damn wheelchair- but she’s able to stay put. Because when something as glorious as Kyoko’s smile is reflected in her eyes; when the squeeze of her hand is warmth and shelter; when the mouthed I love you too is victory-
Even a creature breed for war can appreciate peace.
