• ...I guess if you do get ahold of this letter, then I'm no longer risiding at my apartment. Or for that matter, I'm probably not even in Japan anymore, if I'm alive at all. By the time this gets to you, considering that you have never tried to search my room or you'd have gotten the Dingos attention, I hope to have moved on.

    I say moved on because that's what I'm writing for. I have always had an interesting mix of feelings for you. On one hand, your charming attitude and mysterious nature drawn me to you like a magnet. But on the other hand, watching you fight and your goals frighten me. Your flaws make you perfect, but your personality pushes me away.

    No man I've ever met, no matter how handsome or endearing, has ever captured my soul like you have, and watching you fawn over your pet time and time again has pushed me to consider suicide. Everytime I see you, I remember that you have never turned a genuine smile or truely kind word in my direction; only hers. And it feels like someone is crushing me, I can't breathe, I can't speak, I can't move!

    It's hard to fathom how a single person can make me feel so alive, then make me seriously consider taking my own life, just to escape the pain and torment. It's impossible that any man, any creature, can drive me mad, since I've been called mad more times in my life than I've been called by my real name. And only one human being, if that is indeed what you are, is that powerful without even trying.

    I have spent many a day with you, laughing and smiling in the company of our friends, but I can only thank my outer mask for those days. Because, inside that shell, the laughter was sobbing and the smiles were wails of a soul in turmoil. And I'm very glad that my shell has never cracked or broken infront of anyone. No one else should trouble either themselves or you over my pain and sorrow.

    If you have yet to burn this letter, or otherwise destroy it, thank you. I hope that I have finally been able to express my motives for whatever has happened to me and I ask that you not show this to any of our friends. Partially because I do not want them to hate you and partially because they don't need to grieve on my account.


    Heart and Soul, [Name]



    Mukuro frowned, different colored eyes looking up from the battered letter. The room had been sealed up for months after [Name]-chan's death and was totally untouched from her final days. The desk was neat and clean, the posters on the wall were straight and orderly; nothing seemed amiss. As if the occupant of the room had simply stepped out for a moment or two.

    She hadn't shown one warning sign. Not one little hint of the tragedy that had unfolded that night. After her birthday party when he and Chrome had been the last ones to leave, [Name] had looked so, . . . so normal. She'd been smiling, still trying to get bits of her hair out of her eyes no matter how many times she tied it back. And he'd left her house that night doting on Chrome.

    Now that Mukuro thought about it, placing the letter on the desk, [Name] was anything but normal. He'd seen her from afar many times, hard at work on some plan or idea, and admired her. Such a gentle, innocent face; one that had never worried about her own safty a day in her life. Everything his second body lacked, this girl had had.

    Tucking the paper he'd found under the chair into his jacket, he took one final look at the noose hanging from the rafters. The life before her was very simple. Just survive. But the changes she'd brought with her, and the changes she'd left behind made sure the Vongola family would never be the same. Mukuro then turned and left the bedroom just as he'd found it; the ghost of a girl who'd keep her entire life bottled up inside. The life that had affected so many.....