Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/372961.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Katekyou_Hitman_Reborn!
  Relationship:
      1827_-_Relationship, Hibari_Kyouya/Sawada_Tsunayoshi
  Character:
      Sawada_Tsunayoshi, Hibari_Kyouya, Gokudera_Hayato, Yamamoto_Takeshi,
      Reborn, Sawada_Nana
  Additional Tags:
      Rape_Recovery, Cutting, Original_Male_Antagonist, Inappropriate_use_of
      bottle_caps, Attempt_Suicide, Tsuna_is_completely_unstable, Hibari_is_the
      only_one_who_notices
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-03-31 Updated: 2012-06-12 Chapters: 20/? Words: 83765
****** Bestialized ******
by Jikage
Summary
     He does these things so they wouldn't see past the two left feet and
     notice the broken fifteen year old that laid half-dead in a dim alley
     way. It's unfortunate that Hibari had a knack for perceiving deceit.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains non-con. Which means non-
     consensual, which means rape. Later in this story there is also
     extraneous self-harm, self-starvation and self-hate. There is also
     unflattering derogatory terms aimed at Tsuna. Do be warned what is
     about to happen is very, very graphic and anyone under the age of
     fourteen should not attempt to read this. One should also caution; do
     not read this around parents. I don't think they'll appreciate you
     reading about such a young boy like Tsuna reduced to this. Sit down
     somewhere quiet, read it in the corner, and no matter what, don't
     have anyone read this over your shoulder and be mildly scarred for
     life.
     AN: This story is very much out of my comfort zone. This is
     completely different then what I usually write. I want all of you to
     know that rape disgusts me. No one, I mean no one, should take it
     lightly. This story isn't meant to be sexy, it's not even suppose to
     be laughed at. Again, younger readers; do not attempt to read this.
     It will either educate you or ruin you. And most likely, it will ruin
     you. Come back when you're older, please. For all our sakes.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Tsuna glanced at his mom, lying fast asleep next to her unfinished shirt she
was patching up. He smiled fondly, reaching over to grab the blanket that had
fallen from her shoulders and brought it up around her again with upmost care.
She didn't even twitch. He realized that because his mother fell asleep, he
wouldn't be getting dinner tonight. In a split second decision, he decided to
go eat out himself, bring back some food for his mom when she woke up.
He stepped back, grabbing his wallet from the dining table. He shuffled out the
door quietly, moving to close it behind him.
He didn't know what was wrong with him lately. Closing his eyes against the
night wind he sighed, feeling the puff of his breath waft through the cutting
cold. It wasn't the first time he felt detached from everything. He's been
protecting his friends, treasuring them immensely, keeping them safe. But it
was that evening where he felt something wrong. Something was wrong in the way
he was doing things and he felt he was doing progressively worse to keep them
happy. But if Tsuna really decided to hold them closer than arms length that
would be giving permission to something he wasn't really ready yet.
But if he didn't change soon, wouldn't they want to…leave him?
The thought left him cold. He decided this short walk alone would help him
settle these quelling doubts.
Now normally, Tsuna was very careful on where he chose to walk. In his life
there was bound to be some chance (usually very high) that he'd get himself
into extreme trouble. He learned that lesson rather painfully numerous of times
running into dangerous people, usually friends, but very few were actually
strangers. Namimori was a small place.
He walked for awhile, passing more than enough open-stall restaurants teeming
with customers. Some were too loud, some too quiet, none of them seemed like
the right place for Tsuna to just eat something. He knew he was being careful
for a reason, but he still wanted to free his thoughts of his friends leaving
him, and he just wanted to distract himself with food. He scowled lightly. He
wasn't planning on getting into trouble. Just having a bite and going home to
bed.
He ducked into the very next restaurant he passed.
And almost wished he waited a little longer before getting fed up searching.
He had walked into a restaurant, yes, but it was practically a pub. It was
packed, but gloomy and though he knew people were having a good time, could
feel their overflowing drunken moods just by sitting alone in the corner, he
immediately disliked the place.
But he couldn't just turn around and leave, could he?
Tsuna could feel eyes on him, he was obviously not from around here…among other
things. He felt very exposed and just wanted to blend into the woodwork. A
spare thought made it so and then he was back at the beginning, wondering if
he'd be better off in here with the drunks or out there alone with his
unhindered mind.
Eat, he told himself, eat and run. And well, pay before running, of course. It
wouldn't do to steal.
Several plates later, Tsuna wasn't sure why he was so concerned about this
restaurant. It wasn't exactly a place teeming with happiness, but the energy of
the others was enough to distract him from thinking too much.
He realized he wasn't alone anyone until a woman leaned into his space to speak
to him. Hello, he could hear her say, and politely he greeted her back. She
tugged him out of his seat, babbling about something but Tsuna couldn't quite
understand. Eventually she pulled him into a crowd and he smiled at each and
every one of them congenially. He should've felt awkward, he should've felt
like leaving, but these people clapped him on the back, made him feel at home.
So he laughed with them and somewhere along the lines, he felt the slow lull of
what felt like alchohol from the back of his head greeting him too, like a new
friend. He shouldn't feel drunk, he should feel alarmed, but he greeted it back
too. It was great. Such an amazing distraction. He should do this more often if
it kept his mind off mundane insecurities.
He smiled drunkenly when he felt a hand on his arm and it tugged, pulling him
from the crowd. He went because, why shouldn't he?
He stopped laughing when he felt the cool night air on his face. When had he
left the restaurant? He couldn't remember if he paid for his food. And there
was that hand still on his arm, guiding him. It was a big hand, he thought,
attached to a very tall man with his back to Tsuna. He was walking with a
purpose he didn't understand.
He was seriously confused and he couldn't fathom why he couldn't work out a
thing so simple. But then he stopped being confused when he felt two hands on
his body. One cupping his face, another cupping his groin.
He instinctively shied away from those hands, his muddled head was unable to
understand what they were trying to do but he didn't like it. The man attached
to those hands didn't pay attention to his evasiveness and the alley wall
behind him pressed Tsuna closer to the man. No that wasn't right, a man can't
push a wall to his back, maybe it was the other way around. Tsuna opened his
mouth to say something, to protest his discomfort, but it only came out as a
garbled sound that made the other laugh and speak into his ear. "You're pretty
and I bet you'll feel so good on me." And he could feel the accompanying hot
breath that followed on his face, but the things the man said didn't make no
sense at all. "Can't wait, wonder if you'll scream."
He pushed against this man, not liking the fact that this man is going to make
him scream soon. Usually whenever he screamed, it meant pain and terror. He
tried to get off of him, away from him. But his mind wasn't cooperating, his
defenses were in shambles and he couldn't even begin to piece them back
together, couldn't even remember how.
Large hands raked over his chest, tearing loose several buttons and sending
them flying, bouncing on the dirty ground of the alleyway like stones skipping
across a pond and he tried to focus on what was happening, but the moment he
did he felt sick. He told his arms to move, to reach out and push, but his
hands could only paw weakly at the man's chest.
"I'm Pietro," he whispered hotly against his cheek and the man didn't even
bother to push Tsuna's hands aside, simply reached down and began undoing
Tsuna's belt. The horrifying realization came to him at a distance, noticed
only on the periphery of his clouded mind because the rest of him was too full
of PIetro and he couldn't think.
He just wanted to go home.
When he felt Pietro's hands on his bare hips, he suddenly realized his pants
and underwear was pooled at his ankles. When had that happened? He thought
desperately. "Look at that," Pietro mouthed into his neck, "Already hard? You
little slut." The last remark was made teasingly, but still, Tsuna didn't like
being called it.
And he was almost hard and it made him nauseous. Did he like this? How could he
like this? He trembled, his mind beginning to clear because of his shame.
And Pietro tugged roughtly at his crotch, tightly, painfully, and it made Tsuna
want to scream. Stop, he tried to force it out his mouth, but instead two
fingers were shoved forcefully into it. It pressed down on his tongue,
thrusting deep in his throat. He gagged, and bit weakly on the fingers.
The owner of said fingers and yanked his fingers out. Then he slapped Tsuna,
knocking his head against the wall and leaving a fine wet line of his own
saliva down the side of his face. "Ungrateful bitch," he said dark and lowly to
him. The world blurred as Pietro spun him by the shoulders and slammed him onto
the opposite wall of the alley. Tsuna scrabbled desperately at the wall as
Pietro slammed against him shortly after forcing his unclothed sex to rub
hurtfully against the jagged concrete and it hurt.
Panic bloomed in his chest like fireworks and he desperately fought off the
delirium and slug-pace of his mind. And then there were hands on his bare ass,
pulling him apart obscenely and Tsuna wanted to scream, but all that escaped
was a high whine.
"Eager aren't you?" Pietro laughed huskily, "You'll feel good, I promise."
Then, something slightly damp and completely foreign pushed into him and he
fought to get away, dragging his crotch against the wall with aching frantic
movements. Pietro's finger was inside of him and he felt fear and there was
other things there and another finger pushed into him and why wasn't he
fighting harder than he was? He should be able to get this guy off him, he knew
he could he—
And the fingers were gone.
There was an elation of hope swelling in his chest, wondering if he was able to
somehow communicate to this man that he didn't want this, he didn't want it.
But then Pietro's clothes crotch pressed against his backside and his large
hands gripped at his hips and there was the sound of a zipper being undone.
Then a long pause.
Something much larger than fingers drove into him, tearing through resisting
muscles and tissue without hesitation and—pain. The pain tore through his
entire body and he felt split down the middle. And it was the final straw. He
opened his eyes, growling furiously at this invasion and he glared at Pietro
with such anger, the thing inside of him disappeared. Pietro was staring hard
at him, and he realized he must've turn on his dying will flames on by now and
he felt a bit better about that. Tsuna felt relief wash over him but the moment
his attention wavered and his grip on the man's fear slipped.
The fuzziness was still there, he had failed to take that into account.
Pietro lunged across the space between them, grabbed Tsuna by the shoulders and
threw him wildly to the ground. He couldn't react fast enough and the concrete
made his head bounced and everything was swimming. He was kicked in the
stomach, hard, and it knocked the breathing life out of him. Tsuna curled into
a ball, but the kicking didn't reside until he laid limp there, his muscles no
longer able to be tense. The pain was nothing in comparison to the initial
breech inside of him though but he was still grasping weakly at mist, unable to
use his powers to help him.
Tsuna vomited sideways, his head still lolled to the side like a broken
marionette. The man hissed in disgust and grabbed a fistful of Tsuna's
hair—such pretty colored hair, like your mother, his father once told him—and
dragged the young man deeper into the alley away from the mixture of food and
something else that could or could not be alcohol. He was carelessly dropped
onto the floor and he barely had a moment to suck in breath before the man was
positioning himself. "Finally," he gritted out darkly, "Finally, fucking
finally. Fucking whore," He muttered, "Feel good on me."
A single thrust and dear god, there was nothing but pain. Agony, pure pure
agony he felt as if he was cleaved in two, shredding his inside like a cheese
grater. Pietro leaned down to mutter into his ear, "Rough at first, but a
little blood makes it easier." He said this as if he was observing something
rather fascinating. Something he'd remember to use in the future. And by the
gods.
He never hated anyone. Never, not anything anyone ever did. He never hated
Mukuro, Byakuran, never hated Enma (despite all he did), but still, he never
felt so violated to this point. This wasn't about power, this wasn't about
revenge. This was about take, take, take, lust, lust, lust. And worse of all,
he could do nothing about it. Every movement was worse than fire and out and
in, out and in, out and in Pietro went. It felt like it would never end, like
he would be trapped in the feeling forever. His own fingers grasped weakly at
the dirt on the floor and he could vaguely hear himself begging to be released,
for him to stop, to wanting to go home. He was torn between screaming and
pleading, but he couldn't fathom why no one has heard his distressed calls.
Tsuna was starting to sober up though. Only then, with his senses returning to
him, did the initial numbness fade, making him fully aware of the excruciating
amount of pain centered in his lower half. He felt as though his entire body
had been split open from the inside. A strangled whimper escaped from his
throat; he could still feel Pietro inside of him. Thrusting in and out, taking
everything that Tsuna had and destroying it, shattering him into a thousand
pieces.
He wanted to throw up again, but there was no time for it because the thrusts
became fast, harder, and the pain skyrocketed along with the frantic thrusts.
Then there was a pulse inside of him and Pietro came, spilling inside.
Tsuna laid numb beneath the other and his all-encompassing contentment and
hoped deliriously that Pietro would go away now that the show was over.
After what seemed like an eternity, Pietro seemed to remember where he was. He
pulled himself roughly out of Tsuna. The movement tore him open all over again,
but it was the slosh of semen spilling out of his ass and onto his legs that
truly made him sick.
"Thanks for the ride beautiful," He could hear him say.
Then he laughed that horrible grating laugh again and gave Tsuna's side one
last kick before he pulled up his pants and stumbled back toward the lip of the
alley.
And he had realized with growing horror that it was his own cum cooling on his
bare stomach and between his thighs. He hated it, because he must've liked it
even though he didn't want it, he must've. Why else had his body reacted in
this way? Why else would he respond? He looked up weakly at Pietro as he
rounded the corner, and Tsuna can still feel the thrusting pain in and out, in
and out, his face forever burned into Tsuna's retina; vicious, lusting, hunger.
He wouldn't forget that face for as long as he lived.
He hated how his body reacted, he hated how he must've enjoyed it if he came,
and most of all, he hated how he let it all happen. He didn't put up a bigger
fight and that was what hurt the most. His stomach churned and he heaved
violently, expelling more bile out onto the ground. He considered falling face
first in his own vomit, to hopefully, drown in it. He wanted to die; he
realized when he pushed himself away from the mess with his arms. He wanted to
die and it was really pathetic. He put himself in this mess.
He was pathetic and disgusting and god he wanted to disappear. Tsuna managed to
curl in on himself to the side and the slight movement managed to trigger the
jagged pains along his spine and lower half of his body and it made his vision
darken at the edges.
And the pain induced the hot mess of tears that spilled from his closed eyelids
and he choked, hysterical almost, taking comfort in the prone fetal position he
was in. His pants was still pooled around his ankles, his bare bottom out for
the world to see and eventually he ran out of tears. He ignored the cum drying
on his legs, his backside, his stomach.
In the distance he could hear the muted sounds of traffic and wondered with a
sort of absentminded masochism how long his encounter with Pietro had lasted.
The thought almost made him laugh again, so he tried to focus on repairing his
mental walls. Focus came much easier now, though he hadn't had to work so hard
on maintaining control in yearsand all he had to show for his efforts was a
cobbled together mess of defenses that only worked because most of the world
around him was sleeping and quiet.
The return of some semblance of control was soothing and for the first time
Tsuna remembered that there was a world outside of this alley where Pietro had
–
He was suddenly struck by an intense desire to get away from this place, to see
his mother, to know that she was safe and warm on the couch where he had left
her, that this…thing that had happened to him had left her untouched.
It was only by relying on the strength of his longing to see his dear,
beautiful, mother that he managed to get shakily to his feet. He sagged against
the alley wall almost immediately, panting for breath. He felt as though he'd
been run through a meat grinder and every single movement he made sent bolts of
agony racing down his spine.
And he was tired. So tired. He just wanted to lay down and never get up again.
But if he did that, he'd never see his friends again.
It was enough to motivate him. He pulled up his pants, ignoring the searing hot
pain that followed the movement and began his way home.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: I'm going to a special hell when I die. I hope that I didn't
     offend any real victims in making this, but this story has to start
     somewhere. I read that rape-victims are so traumatized that they deem
     themselves unworthy of anything, refusing to eat, hurting themselves,
     belittling themselves not good enough. It takes a long time for any
     of them to get over it and start anew. It also makes them fear people
     who look like their victimizer. And our victimizer was a tall man, so
     you can all guess what that means. Tsuna's friends are all taller
     than him. His initial goal to protect and treasure them may actually
     in the end be his bane of existence, torn between wanting to stay
     with them and wanting to get away from them.
     And Tsuna manages to fool even Reborn, that is, until Hibari comes
     along.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNINGS: Dark thoughts, self-confidence issues.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The long journey back home was a continuous haze of darkened streets with the
creeping insidious pain up his spine, waiting to consume him in its fire. His
body was on auto-pilot and Tsuna knew all too well not to think about the pain
pain pain less the fragile control he had on his feet would collapse and his
mind would fall to pieces. He almost didn't even notice he was home until his
key was turning in the lock and there was his mom on the couch, curled up in
sleep.
Tsuna sagged in the doorframe. Whatever strength that had carried him home was
gone and all he felt like doing was stare at her peaceful, sleeping face. His
mother looked so content and innocent and he wanted to stumble close to her,
hug her and try to absorb her own contentment to make it his own. He saw it
play out, he would shake his mom awake and she would jolt in surprise, ready to
greet him with a smile until she realized something was terribly wrong with
him. She would hold him and take care of him and soothe the pain away like it
was just a bad dream, a bad nightmare—
But no.
Tsuna also knew that she would come to pity him, he could already picture the
concern, but also the fear in her eyes. She would know how powerless he was,
how weak he was, and she would not trust Tsuna to take care of her. If his
mother knew, then he was damn sure that everyone else would find out. Not
because she would tell anyone but because Tsuna knew Nana was an open book. Her
distress would fly off her in waves and everyone would know something had gone
wrong and it would eventually point at him.
He could see his relationship with his friends fall apart over this lapse, this
weakness.
They would leave.
If the thought left him cold before, it left him numbingly terrified now. He
couldn't stand to be alone, though he very much deserved it God, how could he
ever protect his friends if he couldn't protect himself and he suddenly felt
trapped.
He didn't want anyone to leave.
And they didn't need to be forced to deal with this…mistake, anyway.
So she didn't need to know. They didn't need to know.
He nodded slowly to himself, calmer now that he had a plan, a goal. His mother
would never need to know of this. She could stay like she was now, happy and
safe and innocent. Even though he was flawed, stained, and unworthy of her
trust and love he would do everything in his power to keep protecting her. And
everything would be fine, he would make it fine.
Taking a shaky, uneven step into the room he turned back and dead bolted the
door. The lock seemed so much flimsy than it had ever seemed in the past. He
wondered if it could actually hold up to an intruder that really wanted to come
inside. Fighting the urge to barricade the door with the solid wooden shoe rack
(because one, he couldn't possibly push it in his current state, two, his mom
or Reborn would definitely notice that he had rearranged the furniture) he
decided the lock would be enough. For now.
He took in a deep breath as he observed the still room, he was so familiar with
the living room, been in there everyday all his life. He should feel like home,
should feel safe, but instead he felt like an outsider. Like a foreign
contaminant that was a danger in polluting the dry warm place of his home.
He felt dirty, so dirty. His skin itched.
First he had to get up those stairs. Each step was done gingerly, but quietly
without even the slight whimper of pain. The black spots were there behind his
vision, blooming briefly then disappearing just as quickly with each pause to
rest. He forced his legs to move him up and up and up and finally, Tsuna
stumbled blindly towards the bathroom where he had stood earlier that morning,
brushing his teeth without a care in the world. He made far too much noise by
now but his mother kept sleeping deeply and soon he was inside and locked the
door behind him with shaky hands.
That made two locked doors between Pietro and him. It became slightly a little
easier to breathe.
He couldn't bear the thought of taking off his clothes so he climbed in the
shower fully dressed. He turned the shower on as hot as it could go and the
boiling water pounded on him, drenching his clothing and weighing him down like
an anchor. Tsuna grabbed wildly for the soap and rubbed the bar desperately
over his covered skin until his legs gave out.
He could only curl up in a ball of pain on the shower floor. But then he
couldn't breathe and he was drowning. Tearing at his clothing, the few buttons
left attached to his shirt bounced off the tiling as he ripped it off. His
sodden pants were more difficult though though they were still unzipped and
unbuttoned. He left out a great, pained gasp when he kicked his legs. It hurt,
it hurt a lot and he didn't care because he needed to get it off him, get it
off, get it off, please of please just get him away from me.
And they were off, but every movement he made was just so much agony and he
kicked the pants in the corner away from him.
Clean, he thought, he just wanted to be clean.
He grabbed the bar of soap again and it slipped away but he needed it really
badly, so despite the sharp spurt and spark of fire that nipped at his lower
torso he chased it desperately with grasping fingers and got it in a firm death
vice. Tsuna rubbed his skin raw; raking his dull fingernails from his arms to
his chest until he arrived at the place where he wanted to ignore. He wanted to
ignore it, wanted to pretend it wasn't there. But the urge to clean was so much
stronger than the urge to forget so he slowly, cautiously reached back and
retracted his fingers to stare at it. There was a strange pinkish mixture that
washed away under the spray before he realized what it was. Blood and cum.
He was bleeding down there and it shouldn't be a surprise but it came as one
anyway and he retched again. Except there was nothing else to vomit, his dinner
at that restaurant was all emptied out at that damned alley way. He stared as
the throw-up, the pink mixture all drained down that drain and disappeared into
dark, forgiving pipes. Tsuna wished he could've peeled off his own skin and let
it drain down there too.
His vision was darkening again like it had before and he had trouble focusing
on the task at hand. He couldn't sleep yet, he still felt so dirty and he can
still feel the thrusting pain in and out, in and out—he stopped thinking. It
was over. Why wouldn't it stop? He picked up the soap, but dropped it again to
cover up his ears. Like a child, trying to block the world out, to not hear
anything but the beating of the shower spray.
He then realized the hot water had run out. But he still laid there in that
fetal position under this new freezing water. But then he realized he couldn't
just stay here and hopefully, drown himself again, but he had to face the
music. If he stayed in this shower overnight everyone would know something was
wrong. He shut off the water, struggling to stay awake and staggered out,
dripping wet, shivering. His uncooperative hands helped dry his brutalized body
that protested every move with red-hot streaks of pain pain pain and danced
across his nervous system until he began seeing black spots. He wrapped the
towel over his shoulders, hunched, and after several moments of staring at the
door lock, opened it.
Pietro was not waiting for him on the other side.
Of course he wasn't, he thought, almost letting out a chain of hysterical
chuckling. He couldn't remember for the life of him why he had been so sure
he'd be out here, hungry and waiting with pressing hands—
He stumbled into his bedroom, locked the door behind him. He didn't bother
turning on the lights and he opened the drawers and blindly pulled on two
thick, warm sweaters and three—no, four would do sweatpants and more than one
nice pair of socks before he crawled into bed. He tried to take comfort in the
warmth and softness of his blankets, tried to pretend he felt safe. But didn't.
He didn't think he would ever feel safe again.
And belatedly, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep either. The pain burned
with an insistent ache radiating from his insides so how could he possibly
sleep?
But he did after that thought and he dreamt.
—
The nothingness clung to his skin like tar, sliding down his throat and
gathering inside of him, filling him up, suffocating him. He could see
Gokudera, or was that Yamamoto, or was that his mom, eyes filled with disgust,
disgust, disgust. His friend, brother, mom turned away and he could see them
disappearing in the distance. He tried calling out, to beg him, him, her to
stay with him, to save him from this—this thing—but he couldn't. He couldn't
breathe actually, he couldn't call them over the cock lodged down his throat.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't even see.
Tsuna woke gasping for air and his body was on fire. He was sweating from the
heavy blankets and the excess layers upon layers of clothing and every inch of
him was crying and singing out in agony.
He couldn't breathe.
He kicked at the covers of the bed and he fought not to scream as he did so,
causing more spikes of pain pain pain shooting down his spine and his lower
torso with every jerk of his legs.
He struggled harder and managed to push back the comforter enough that he could
throw himself off the bed. He hit the floor hard, but he was safe. He was safe.
He lay unmoving on the floor for a long time, unable to even think about
shifting slightly for the pain pulsing through his body. Eventually, though,
the agony dissipated into a manageable ache and he could breathe again. His
personal time on the floor did nothing to diminish his own disgust. He still
felt so dirty, so dirty inside inside and out. He shuddered violently and
whimpered in pain.
"Tsuna?"
And suddenly, everything felt so much more terrifying. He looked up weakly to
see Reborn's shoes reflecting his horrified face. Dear god, he had forgotten
that Reborn slept in his room. How could he had forgotten? He had to act
normal. Because if Reborn found out what happened, he would leave him too. And
as much trouble the baby gave him, he wanted him to stay also. Reborn already
thought he was horribly weak, and if he somehow found out that the Tenth boss
of Vongola was unable to protect himself from being violated so, he would
leave. He would leave in disgust and Tsuna could not have that.
"Reborn," He greeted with a smile, he sat up ignoring the pain pain pain, "Good
morning."
He needed another shower.
"Did you bring back food?" Was Reborn reply.
And his stomach dropped. He had forgotten all about it. He was suppose to bring
food back for everyone. He bit his lip, and it wasn't hard to look scared,
"Sorry Reborn, I forgot about it."
Reborn only shook his head and gave a long suffering sigh. But thankfully,
Reborn did not indulge why, only hopping back up to sleep once more in his
hammock. Tsuna forced himself to his feet and stumbled out, fumbling only
briefly with the lock. He walked as quietly and quickly as he could without
limping to the bathroom, causing the glass-sharp slivers to shoot up and down
his backside. Once the bathroom door was closed and locked behind him again, he
paused to breathe, leaning against the wood of the door and did everything in
his power not to think. He began pulling off his many layers of sweat-dampened
clothing and wondered how he got them on so easily. Once the pain subsided
after a few minutes, he considered taking the next steps needed to get him
under the heat of the shower when he made the great mistake of glancing in the
mirror.
He looked away, his stomach churning again, ready to dry heave. Luckily, there
were no bruising on his face, but he could see the horrible black splotches of
blue and black littering his torso. Without thinking, he ran a hand over them
but recoiled just as quickly, imagining Pietro's own pressing hands again on
him, his unforgiving foot slamming against him again and again.
In and out, in and out, the thrusts came and it kept taking and taking and why
couldn't it stop—
Tsuna sank to the floor, eyes screwed shut and his hands reached up to cover
his ears. Calm, calm calm. He needed to remain calm. He took slow intakes of
breaths, or tried to, but something was wedged down his throat and it was
choking him and it was impossible to breathe—calm, calm.
His skin itched. He needed a shower.
He crawled to the shower, and almost jumped away had it not been the pain
holding him there. The soggy mess of cloth was still lying bunched up on the
shower floor. He didn't want to touch it because it was dirty and he felt that
touching it would make him even more dirtier than he already was. But the
practical thing to do was to dispose of it. He knew he couldn't leave it there.
His mom or Reborn would find it eventually and she would ask questions so he
reluctantly snatched it up and struggled to dump it beside the toilet. It fell
with a sick, wet splat onto the tiles.
He turned on the shower again, making it go as hot as it could go and spent
several minutes clawing desperately at his skin before moving on to grasp the
bar of soap again. He scrubbed himself raw at least four times but by the
fifth, he still didn't feel clean. The bar of soap dissolved in his hands
through his seventh washing.
He stared at his empty hand and tried to resist the urge to run out and turn
the house upside down for more. So he tried focusing on disposing those soiled
clothes without Reborn or his mom suspecting anything.
He got out of the shower, dried himself as quickly as he could without looking
too much at his repulsive body. Quickly putting on his three-some sweaters and
two-something sweatpants and replacing his socks back on his feet, he gathered
the scattered bits of clothing he no longer wanted to look at. He stood
awkwardly at the door before opening it and was relieved to find nothing there.
He was relieved, immensely so, but he felt weaker for it.
He threw the wet clothes at the bottom of his closet, unable to hold them
anymore. And he began wrapping more layers over himself. But tried not to put
everything he owned on him. He knew putting on a winter parka would not only
rouse alarm, but it would not actually make him any safer. As he contemplated
this, he became aware of the steadily throbbing pain emanating from his
temples. He had been so worked up before he hadn't noticed the headache.
There was a bottle of aspirin in the kitchen, he remembered. That would help
him think, help him rationalize this…mess into something more…manageable. And
it might lessen the other pains of his body.
He hesitated only a moment before cautiously, slowly, moving down the stairs
(step by painful step), but his quest for painkillers was quickly forgotten
when he saw what lay on the couch.
His mother was waking up.
Steeling himself with a fond smile he watched her stretch lethargically like a
child, how he wanted her to stay like, and she twisted to greet him with a
smile on her face. "Morning, Tsuna, you're up early!" she said happily, "Ready
for school?"
School. Right he goes to school.
"Yes mom," he nodded slowly, "Just getting some breakfast."
Nana got up, stretching once more, and walked to her bathroom to freshen up.
Tsuna's smile dimmed. She was his only family that was available (if you
counted his dad, but he wasn't here a lot), and he knew that if she ever found
out about this she would be so immensely disappointed in him. She'd leave
without a word. That was okay though because as far as he was concerned, she'd
never know the truth. She didn't need to know. This was for her own good, for
her own protection, after all. It felt a lot like sawing off his own arm but he
would do it anyway. He would lie to her for the rest of their lives.
He was already weak and ruined. What was one more bestializing stain to his
soul?
Chapter End Notes
     AN: I admit, I was sort of inspired by the many versions of the song
     'Rolling Girl' originally sung by Hatsune Miku. But I liked
     Akiakane's version better. But Tsuna! Don't be an idiot! Of course no
     one will leave you! They would help you through this, not push you
     away! He's so stupid to think that. I'm scared to write Tsuna's time
     at school. Things are going to get more progressively worse before
     they get progressively better. And also; Hibari's appearance soon.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNING: Slight self-starvation begins this chapter.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
For a week, Tsuna feigned sick. It really wasn't hard actually, all he had to
do was sit at the table and announce he didn't feel so good, but what backed
him up was the fact he didn't look good either. They noticed how pasty his skin
look, the dark rings under his eyes and let him stay in bed. He allowed his mom
to coddle him those seven days. He could not afford anymore than that. He
feared that if he allowed his "head cold" to go on, he'd break under the weight
of her compassion and tell her everything. He couldn't let that happen. So,
after that he forced himself to resume his life as though nothing had changed,
carefully hiding his bruises from her gaze and gently easing her suspicions
about his strange behavior.
There were fewer of these concerns than he had expected. It should have made
his life easier, given him one less thing to worry about. He didn't know why
the ease with which he deceived her hurt.Why it made his heart ache. This was
what he had wanted, wasn't it?
Yes it was, he told himself as he struggled to keep his head above water day
after day. He couldn't allow himself to dwell too much on this lest he succumb
to the temptation of letting it go. He just wanted to forget it had happened
and pretend he was okay.
But he wasn't.
He didn't think he'll ever be for the rest of his life.
He went out of his way to wear a long sleeved shirt the day he got ready for
school under his uniform. He also wore thin sweatpants underneath and extra
long socks. But it still didn't help the dirtiness go away. Tsuna knew he would
never be clean again. Hours spent scrubbing himself raw in the bath taught him
that, but even so he continued to scour the filth from his skin twice a day.
Today was the first day he'd take a step out of his house since—no no don't
think about it the pain, the pain pain pain.
Because it would break his resolve. And this was the first test for the rest of
his life. He would never be fine, he knew that, but he'd go down kicking and
screaming all the same. Unlike that night where he had been so weak and
useless—
Stop thinking, he told himself as he stared dully once more in the mirror. The
bathroom was quickly becoming his most visited friend. He actually wanted to
sleep in here, given the fact that the shower was just right there and so easy
to use. And the glorious lock that has yet to fail him. Instead of sneaking
around Reborn and Nana, he could just sleep in this tub, scrub himself, sleep,
wake up, then scrub himself again and then sleep and repeat.
He breathed in, and then out, and cautiously made his way downstairs. The pain
was still there, insistently reminding him of seven nights ago, but now
lessened to a manageable ache he could now handle. Gokudera has been calling
worriedly everyday since he called in sick and it made sense that both Yamamoto
and he were waiting outside for him. He waved goodbye to his mom still
gloriously innocent opened the door and closed it behind him.
Tsuna smiled at Yamamoto and Gokudera as they waved excitedly from the
entrance. He tried striding normally to them, marginally successful. But then
Gokudera took two steps in his bubble and he began to sweat profusely.
What was wrong with him? This was his friend, his friend, but despite what he
told himself, he couldn't shake the realization how much taller both of them
were compared to him. They could easily overtake him, easily drag him away and
pin him down—
"Tenth!" Gokudera exclaimed, "I'm glad to see you're alright!"
Tsuna could only bob his head with a wide smile. "Yeah, it was just a little
cold. Not a big deal, really."
They walked to school slowly, but Tsuna still felt like he was trying to keep
up with his friends each step. Pain pain pain was still there, still there, and
he couldn't seem to get rid of it.
But now…now even the prospect of getting aroused made him sick. A few weeks
after the…incident he tried it. He locked himself in the bathroom with…suitable
materials and tried to recreate pleasure. He'd thought it would help, remind
him that his body was capable of feeling more than just pain.
That little experiment left him gasping for breath, his heart pounding so hard
he thought he was going to dieand all he could hear was Pietro's voice cooing
on and on inside his head.
Already hard? You little slut, you're eager aren't you? You'll feel good,
promise—
– and he was scared. Terrified and helpless and it was only a matter of time
until it happened again and he couldn't do anything. So weak and worthless and
he was going to die there on the bathroom floor with his pants around his
ankles and his cock in his hand like the slag Pietro thought he was and –
Needless to say, he never tried that again.
Every step outside was an exercise in prolonged agony. Dozens, hundreds of
people swarming him, skirting over him, seeing, evaluating, judging…He felt
their gaze, the weight of their attention and was convinced they could see how
ruined he was. Pietro's mark on him was there, evident in every move he made,
every word he said, how could they not see it?
He knew people didn't mean him no harm not like—he did—but even then, he felt
as if anyone with desire like that was only a thought away from dragging him
into an alley and—
By the time they arrived at Namimori's familiar gates, he was already an
obscene wreck. Gokudera and Yamamoto kept asking him if he was okay, and
something must've showed on his face for his friends to be concerned so Tsuna
forcibly pulled himself together. "I'm alright," He replied to both of them and
their doubtful looks was something Tsuna wished to quell forever. So he smiled
widely, pulling his arms behind his head and grinned at the school, "It's been
awhile, did I miss a lot?"
Immediately, Gokudera jumped to fill him in, complaining mostly about
Yamamoto's constant presence wasn't at all in the least comfortable without
Tsuna around. Where Yamamoto laughed at the right times, also producing his own
harmless comment here and there. Tsuna felt lost as he tried to follow their
conversation, unable to focus because he kept thinking about the pain pain pain
lust lust lust.
When they arrived in class, a lot of people greeted him, asked him questions.
In the past Tsuna had always yearned for physical contact with others, but now
he found himself instinctively shying away from people. Flinching at the casual
touches he had once craved. Anyone could set him off, but his reactions were
exponentially worse when the person touching him was a tall man with too-large
hands.
A friend clapped him on the back jokingly, a distant classmate dragged him from
Gokudera and Yamamoto to their group and Tsuna was left frantically smoothing
away their wide-eyed recollections of his panicked and occasionally violent
reactions to physical contact. Then he would rush to the nearest public
bathroom, lock himself in a stall and curl up on the floor, waiting until the
tremors stopped and he could breathe again. This happened numerous times.
One time at home, Reborn squinted up at him as said, "Tsuna, you're getting too
soft. Maybe we should do some more exercises?"
By exercises, Tsuna knew that meant running around dodging some bullets while
running across town. Running outside. So Tsuna tried to hide his horror with a
mask of exasperation. It wasn't that hard, really. He let out a groan,
normally, like he always did, "Reborn, no! What's the point? And don't tell me
it's because I'm the tenth-"
And Reborn looked slightly comforted by his reaction, as if he had only
imagined Tsuna's evasiveness and fear. So they argued like they normally did
and Tsuna tried hard not to fall on his knees and tell Reborn everything,
everything and he just wanted the pain to go away. He was disgusting,
disgusting.
He felt as though he was constantly on the run, deliriously afraid to be alone
one moment and petrified at the thought of having anyone come near him. He was
always scared, even in his own home and he just wanted it to stop.
Why wasn't it over yet? He asked himself that question again and again, but
there was never any answer.
And then it happened.
The next day was the day someone followed him when he quietly retreated from
his group of friends.
He stood before the crowded hall of people, their presence washing over him in
a horrifying wave. He couldn't stand the weight of their focus, their scrutiny,
bearing down on him with suffocating intensity.
Dirty. He felt so dirty and everyone's presence felt like a whirlpool,
threatening to draw him in and pull him under, drowning him forever in a sea of
other from which he would never be able to escape. He was completely helpless.
Weak. His heart pounded dangerously loud in his chest and he was suddenly so
scared he couldn't breathe.
Distantly he noticed that people were crowding close to him, but all he could
feel was the ever rising surge of raw terror consuming him whole. He saw more
than felt Yamamoto touch his arm. He tried to pay attention to him, to block
out the swarming voices and never-ending fear and focus on finding the sound of
his voice. Unable to stand it any longer, he vaguely heard himself, barely as
if his own ears were clogged, told Yamamoto he was going to the bathroom.
He didn't.
Instead, Tsuna had run behind the isolated back of the school for comfort,
realizing that people were often prone to walk in the bathrooms he occupied.
It was always hard to explain why he was in a stall for so long, why he was
whimpering in there. He couldn't exactly tell everyone that he had an upset
stomach. It was half-true, but it would cause some alarm among his student body
if he used the same excuse over and over again.
When he was finally ducked out and away from prying eyes, Tsuna allowed himself
to collapse against the wall. He sluggishly dragged himself to sit in between
the high-powered ventilation system and the school and brought up his legs to
his chest.
He clapped his hands over his face and screwed his eyes tightly shut, wanting
to disappear from the world.
"Herbivore."
Then Tsuna screamed.
It was not at all like the usual stuttered nervous wail of, 'H-Hibari-san!', it
was something more along the lines the kind of scream someone would do when
they were about to die, terrified, desperate. It was the kind made not out of
surprise, but out of pure horror. His voice was usually cracked whenever he
raised his voice but this came out as a shrill, even trill that shook the
ventilation beside him and through the bones of the prefect.
When he came back to focus, he had realized he had stunned Hibari Kyouya into
silence. The only indication of Hibari's great surprise was the slight widening
of his usually half-lidded eyes.
And Tsuna choked back his fear to a minimum ache, its Hibari, just Hibari, stay
calm calm calm.
And with growing horror, he realized he was in the back of the school, alone,
with Hibari—who can easily take him, he could easily pin him down between the
wall and the ventilation fan and it'd hurt hurt—He was alone with an individual
taller than him, stronger than him physically, and there was no one around to
witness this. No one who could help him.
He shook that off with a desperate fervor of a spooked horse. What was he
thinking? Despite the fact Hibari was taller than him he could take me on, he
could destroy what I had left Hibari would never do it. There was no reason to.
The prefect had zero interest in him. If he could help it, he wouldn't even
want to look at Tsuna. Not all people were like Pietro. Not everyone was out to
take all he had. He kept telling himself this, but the doubt was still there.
Humans are easily succumbed to temptation.
Why should Hibari resist when Tsuna is here, alive, weak, breathing; easy prey?
He was suddenly hit with the desire to run away, to retreat from this isolated
place, to get away from Hibari with an urge so strong he didn't know what to
make of it. And so with a muttered, "Excuse me," Tsuna retreated and rounded
the corner back to the eyes, back to the horrifying open.
—
It was getting hard to eat.
The day before yesterday he ate his dinner, but it didn't feel good. It didn't
make him warm like food normally does. It was barely four days and each time he
ate his stomach would protest. He tried hard to keep it down. But Tsuna was
beginning to dislike eating because of it. Because being hungry felt better.
Mechanically he poured himself some cereal, a generic healthy flake mix, and
started working at it. When he had finished half a bowl or so, the task got a
little bit harder. He hadn't felt that fantastic before as it was, and the
cold, mushy cereal sat at the bottom of his stomach like a dead weight. The
rest of the cereal was tossed down the sink. It sat there, looking increasingly
repulsive in Tsuna's eyes. He finally rinsed it down, trying not to think about
the fact that he'd only eaten a half of a bowl of cereal in two days. He turned
his mind, instead, on getting to school.
He hasn't been sleeping well either because he wakes up before either his
mother and Reborn. He was beginning to realize the reason why he wakes up so
early could be because he doesn't want to explain why he can't eat breakfast
when Nana walked into the kitchen, sleepy eyed. She is no longer surprised to
see him up early now. "Tsuna, do you want me to cook you something before you
go?"
Tsuna smiled fondly at her, inwardly rejoicing that his moods haven't been
affecting his mother at all. "No, I just ate. Thank you."
It was a lie. And the hunger felt like it was eating him inside out. But the
hunger made him forget about the pain pain pain.
It made him feel better. Just slightly. Call him sick, call him addicted, call
him obsessed. But whatever made the pain go away was a lot better than this.
The short bouts of panic attacks never stopped after that incident. He needed
it to stop though but it only kept getting progressively worse you need to
stop, they're all going to notice something now, look, someone already
discovered you, Hibari and he kept going to the bathroom on occasions, the
empty classrooms, under stairways to kneel on the floor with his head in his
hands. He was running out of places to hide.
Just sitting in his own seat, a simple task for most people, had him desperate
in the walls of his mind to claw his own skin off. Being in a room full of
thirty-some people and forced to sit down for an hour and a half for each
subject was enough to drive him to insanity. Where it had been mandatory and a
normal thing of his life only days before, it was now a great tiring chore that
he had to endure day by day.
A large, sweaty student clumsily knocked into Tsuna's arm on his way to the
board and Tsuna forgot all of his fears and hopes for a moment in favor of
trying not to throw up in his lap.
The days were blurring together. He didn't even know how many days it's been
since…since then. But miraculously he's been keeping up this façade for a long
time. Such a long time, even the bruises that had littered his torso and hips
were no receding into nothing, as if it never happened. The ache of the pain
was long gone, but still, the ghost of it would attack him at his most
vulnerable states causing his panic attacks. But even so, Nana kept smiling at
him innocently, and it was enough. He would protect her. And by protecting his
mom, he would be protecting his friends.
They would stay, because they thought Tsuna was great and nice. Because he
wasn't a coward.
But he would never forget that night, never forget to be cautious of everyone.
They didn't need to know. If he told them, then it would give them ideas. Ideas
and curiosity were dangerous in the hands of others. Even Yamamoto, even
Gokudera, could turn a blind ear and drag him away and do just what Pietro did.
It hardened him, he realized, it taught him a lesson. Don't trust anyone. Don't
trust anyone.
They could be blissfully unaware until the day they die. And Tsuna likewise
would carry this secret to the grave with him.
He shouldn't need anyone to carry this burden with him. They would stay.
"Sawada Tsunayoshi?"
Tsuna jerked in his seat at his name. At the call, every single pair of eyes in
the room turned to look at him in response. He began to turn nervous, felt like
screaming, feeling the familiar near signs of a panic attack. Cold sweat
gathered at his nape. There was a disciplinary officer standing at the entrance
of their classroom. He hadn't even noticed the class was disrupted. He raised
his hand, "That's me," He flinched when a girl next to him dropped her pencil,
"Yes?"
"The disciplinarian president would like to see you in his office."
Tsuna's mouth went dry.
This wasn't a good sign, he was pretty sure this wasn't a good sign, damn this
was an awful sign.
He had forgotten this problem, a grave mistake on his part. The only person to
catch him had yet to make a move and he marginally relaxed over time. He wished
he had prepared himself for this. Because Hibari usually gets answers he wants
and never takes no or lies for an answer.
Tsuna got up, holding his breath as he made his way down the suffocating row of
students watching him until the was out the door and out of sight. The officer
that came to fetch him had long gone, obviously far more prioritized to other
things than watching over a kid march to his death and Tsuna was comforted by
this. He wanted to steel himself before going in the office without prying eyes
observing him.
He was hungry.
And his skin itched.
He needed a shower.
When he reached the office door, he hesitated. He wasn't terrified he wasn't
terrified, he wasn't scared oh god what if he found out and Tsuna decided to
wear his nervousness on his sleeve, because normally, that's how he'd always be
around Hibari. Act normal, act nervous. He knocked once. Twice. And opened the
door.
"Hibari-san?" He forced himself to a stutter instead of sounding decidedly
dead. "Did you ask for me?"
The prefect was at his desk, looked up briefly, icily, and waved to the couches
in front of him.
Tsuna did as he was told and sat down, trying with the desperation of a
drowning man not to run out. There was a short moment of silence before Hibari
squinted up at him from whatever he was reading. "You're thinner." He sounded
stern, but not on a level where he wanted Tsuna to explain himself. Hibari
didn't exactly want to be a part of his life to even this extent. But Tsuna
scrambled to do so anyway.
The panic followed right after and Tsuna tried not to scream in response;
What's it to you stop watching me stop wanting me. He was onto him he was onto
him he was onto him. Normal, calm, act normal.
But if he lost that respect, oh god he didn't want to think about it. "Oh just-
studying you know. Haven't eaten a lot."
Hibari only narrowed his eyes, not because he was doubtful, but because it
looked like he knew for certain Tsuna was lying. This was what he didn't like
about Hibari, the helpless inability to understand what the other was thinking.
Does he know? How did he know? Did he see? Hibari looked at the papers in his
hands. "Your grades haven't improved."
"That's why I've been trying to study," Tsuna said, trying not to sound weak
behind it, "Need to graduate-you know."
Hibari most certainly knew because he sat back, almost resolutely. "Come report
here everyday during lunch."
And he did a double-take. Hibari wanted him to stay during lunch, everyday,
perhaps for the rest of the year? He forced his horror down the insecurity
alone he wants me alone even more then he'll and he felt like retching some
more. He was going to find out if he realized Tsuna didn't eat so much anymore.
He would find out that, among other things. Hibari would hate him if he knew.
And when Tsuna thought of Hibari actually hating him, it wrenched a part of him
in his chest. At the beginning, Tsuna always assumed Hibari hated him, but
Tsuna figured out that in his own strange way, Hibari certainly didn't despise
him. He respected Tsuna's ability (to some extent), and seemed to tolerate the
rest of the personality that came with it.
He mustn't know, Tsuna thought desperately. If Hibari knew then everyone else
would find out. His mother would cry on days on end. This was no one's business
but his own.
His problem.
Just his.
Hibari was getting quickly tired of Tsuna's stunned silence and he snapped
frostily, "Did you hear me, Sawada Tsunayoshi?"
"Yes." Tsuna replied, trying hard not to convulse into tears.
The prefect turned away, gazing boredly out the window behind him. "Dismissed."
Slowly, Tsuna got up, gingerly, and dragged his feet out the door and back to
his class.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: Tsuna! You have triggered Hibari's interest in you! And he won't
     stop until he gets answers! But that's a good thing, because not
     eating is not okay, Tsuna. It's not! You have to eat and you have to
     tell someone! Don't let this happen!
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNINGS: Strong self-starvation and hints of self-harm
     begins. Graphic depictions of vomit.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The next morning, Tsuna tried and failed to forget about his interaction with
Hibari throughout yesterday to the early crack of dawn of today. The minutes
were ticking by, and his terror was escalating to new heights when hours became
minutes and minutes became seconds. His meeting with Hibari was coming. His
friends never noticed his antsy behavior, he carefully pretended it was because
he was nervous of their test after lunch. Reborn had made him study the night
before, and he at least wanted to pass it.
When the familiar trill of Namimori's lunch bell resounded throughout campus,
the others in his class sighed, relieved. Everyone was stretching lethargically
out of their seats, already snapping their desks together and forming packs to
walk together to the cafeteria. Tsuna though, took his time. Deliriously slow,
really. He waved Gokudera and Yamamoto away, assuring them that he had some
errands to run for the student disciplinary committee.
They thought nothing of it, shrugging and returning back to their, one-sided on
Gokudera's part, bickering. He never realized how easy it was to trick his
friends until recently. They believed almost anything he said, a sad revelation
he had only just discovered.
Feeling as if he was throwing himself into an open fire, Tsuna walked out of
the safe haven of his nearly empty classroom and out into the nauseatingly
crowded hallway filled with gaggles of students. He tried sticking to the wall
closely, barely even an inch between his shoulder and the plaster. He all but
stumbled briefly as a lanky male brushed his elbow with his own. He gasped,
scrambling for purchase on the wall before determinedly righting himself. It's
not him, it's not him, stop freaking out.
Tsuna walked, chin held high as he roved past a group of girls, but instantly
lost his cool when a particularly large group of males began running in his
direction. He discreetly stopped to check the watch on his wrist, flattening
himself against the wall desperately until they passed him.
His skin itched.
He was careful on making the complete way to the office, but the occasional
terror-induced stops slows his process. When he did reach the door, he
hesitated once more. Armoring himself with a permanent nervous fidget, he
opened the door with halting jerks. He peered inside, seeing Hibari look up
from his desk at the same moment.
He stepped inside. And greatly resisted the urge to turn around and run.
He took some more steps in, surprising himself.
"Hibari-san," He began, but Hibari put a hand up.
And pointed to the table that was settled between the two sofas. On it was a
single laptop and a leather portfolio. Tsuna was perplexed.
"Inside are student ID numbers," Hibari explained coolly, not even looking up
still as he continued to write from his desk, his pen jotting down on what
could be a portfolio similar to the one on the table, "Install those numbers
into the database. The software should be open."
Without another word, Tsuna complied, kneeling down to the laptop and opened
the leather portfolio. In it was lists of fifty names on each page written in a
neat formal scrawl in individual boxes. He tapped the mouse pad, and began
copying the student's name and ID into the laptop. There was hardly no
interaction between the two of them, their only communication was the sounds
made of Hibari's unwavering, yet cool-headed scrawling and Tsuna's soft and
hesitant keyboard taps.
—
This happened for the rest of the week with hardly any disturbances.
When Reborn discovered he was doing work for Hibari, he only gave a considering
look. "I see," Reborn said and Tsuna stiffened briefly but relaxed at his next
words, "Investigating your cloud guardian is very important. Good work, Tsuna."
And Tsuna responded with an exasperated, "It's not investigating! Hibari-san
just needed someone to do the mundane stuff for him!" And that was that. There
were no problems from either side, and most of all, Gokudera and Yamamoto
didn't question it further. They only inquired it he was being worked too hard,
but after Tsuna's careful reassurances, they backed off. It was surprisingly
easy. And it was sadly becoming a talent of his.
But despite being successful in deceiving his friends and family, he couldn't
help but be disappointed at the same time. How easy it was to lead them on. How
easy they fell for it.
One day he walked alone without Gokudera and Yamamoto.
It had been so long, he realized, since he had done so. Even though he was
almost mad on keeping his friends close, this was like a fresh breath of air.
He didn't have to pretend in front of anyone and it felt great. But there was
still that hidden fear of being alone, so he didn't dawdle. Tsuna was quick to
walk home, he didn't dare linger in one spot any longer than necessary. He
walked in front of a neighbors house in his usual route, only about three doors
down from his own when he saw the broken glass.
The trash bag sat tipped over, its contents spewing out of a ripped hole
(probably from a cat) and there was broken glass everywhere. He figured it was
from what looked like more than a few soda pop bottles. Shame, he thought off-
handedly, that they hadn't put it in the recycle instead. He was about to step
over the glass when he noticed something in amidst the glistening shards.
It was a bottle cap.
He didn't know why he stooped down to pick it up, pushing the shards away with
careful hands.
But he examined it for a brief moment and shrugged, pocketing the harmless
little thing.
—
By the time he only got down to ten names and numbers on the second portfolio,
Hibari spoke. "Herbivore," He began, staring intently as Tsuna jumped in
response. He gestured at a white, generic plastic bag that was placed neatly
next to a coffee maker he only just noticed. "Open that and use it."
Again, perplexed, Tsuna got up. He felt another rise of nervousness as he
crossed the room, feeling Hibari's eyes on him until he reached the bag. Upon
closer inspection, it was a bag from the convenience store only a block away.
"This is..." He looked to Hibari for further explanation, but he was met only
with the top of the prefect's head as he bowed back down to tend to the
portfolio at hand. Opening the bag nosily, he forced himself to not recoil when
he saw the contents inside.
Food.
He looked back up to Hibari, brow furrowing. He picked up the bag, resisting to
not hold it away from his body when he took a big delicious whiff. Tsuna
crossed back over the room to stand in front of Hibari's desk. Now up close, he
could see that Hibari was writing in a twin copy of the portfolio he had been
working on. He realized, that Hibari was writing all the names by memory. He
shuddered, wondering how one person could remember so many names and their
student IDs too. Tsuna placed the bag on the wooden mahogany of Hibari's desk
with a clumsy rustle, expectantly.
At this, Hibari looked up irritably. "I said use it. Not bring it to me."
Then he realized. This food wasn't Hibari's lunch. It was bought for Tsuna. And
by "use" it, was actually "eat" it.
"N—" Tsuna shook his head, "No."
A raised, suspicious, eyebrow. "No?" Hibari repeated, dully enthralled.
Tsuna swallowed ruefully, grabbing the bag and turning his back to scurry back
to his seat at the sofa. He opened it and drew out the hot meal to sit on his
lap. He was hungry. He was famished. But if he ate, then the pain pain pain
would come back with a vengeance. Especially if he ate in large quantities like
this. There was a fork in the bag and he took that out too. He judged the size
of the fried shrimp, and popped one in his mouth. He chewed. And chewed. And
then swallowed. Suddenly, the shrimp didn't taste as wonderful as it smelled.
He stabbed another shrimp and put another in his mouth. He chewed, but with
less fervor. The next shrimp came a lot slower and when Tsuna swallowed that
one, his stomach churned.
Feeling miserable, he looked up then looked away quickly when his gaze met
Hibari's sharp, observing ones. He bit on the next shrimp, almost gnawing on it
behind a closed mouth. He desperately wanted to spit it out, but he had to keep
eating, because Hibari was watching. He mustn't know about Tsuna's inability to
eat, otherwise he would tell everyone. Then they would leave.
Tsuna hid his quivering lips behind a napkin.
He actually might throw up. All over the desk and the laptop and papers and the
sofa and Hibari would find out. But he mustn't because his friends would leave.
Desperate to keep the ascending heat that clawed up his throat down, he
swallowed down another shrimp and had white rice follow it shortly after. His
eyes watered. He sniffed discreetly when his nose began running.
He gave a big start when the bell rung. Feeling as if god was on his side
today, he tried not to look liberated when he stood.
Shoving the food back in the plastic bag, fork and all. He only gave a small
wave to Hibari before he walked briskly out the door he slid it closed with a
sharp snap.
Tsuna skidded to a halt in front of the bathroom, but froze as he heard
boisterous voices resounding from the inside. He couldn't go in there. Turning
his heel with an edge of desperation, he jumped down a flight of stairs,
shoving past some girls (who gasped indignantly), and pushed himself out the
double doors with sweaty palms. His bile kept rising with each step and his
cheeks were starting to build up uncomfortably with hot acid. He ran to the
nearest bush, keeping carefully away from any possible watchful eyes and
ducked.
And promptly expelled his very recent lunch onto the dirt ground. Instantly,
the smell hit his nostrils, making him water his eyes until tears fell and
mixed in the regurgitation too.
When he was done, he sobbed in his hands.
And thought of the bottle cap that was settled innocently at the bottom of his
bag in the classroom.
Unsuspecting from the watchful eyes from the second story.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: This was an incredibly short chapter. But anyways, well damn
     Tsuna. You're really screwed. The food was sort of a test, Hibari
     definitely knows what he's doing. Questions is, why? It's not like
     Hibari's being cruel, he's trying to simply unravel this mystery by
     tracing and witnessing its source before he actually does something.
     And the bottle cap. I think you all are pretty knowledgeable by that
     extent to understand what's going to happen soon. A lot of you were
     wondering if Pietro would ever appear again. What do you think? /
     smiles
     In case you haven't heard, I have a tumblr account where I post
     chapter previews of this story and The Boogie Man (my major 1827
     project at the moment) before they come out!
     At ( jikage. tumblr. com )
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNINGS: Slight self-mutilation begins here and self-
     starvation continues. Brief cussing for like, one line. And dark
     thoughts.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
With an almost trance-like state, Tsuna stared at the bottle cap in his hand,
twirling it this way and that. He was on his bed, holding up the bottle cap
away from himself to the air, eyes seeing but yet somewhere else at the same
time. His finger ran slowly over the repeated ridges with a strange sense of
allurement. It was just a bottle cap. It was just a bottle cap, he thought. It
was just a bottle cap. It was a plain silver one, glossed with a gray finish.
The inside of the cap's shell was a yellowed-copper color. There was no logo
under or over the cap.
Gripping it in his fist, he squeezed briefly. The ridges dug into his palm.
Because a single, dark thought crossed his mind. What if he...with this
harmless thing...
Tsuna shoved it quietly under his pillow.
He laid limp in the bed, limp, eyes unfocused and aimed at the ceiling. He was
so stunned he couldn't even contest the issue. He could only lie there, trying
to keep his breath from hitching. No, he couldn't. He couldn't be so selfish to
try such a thing. If he did, he wouldn't be just nothing anymore, he'd be a
monster. But it couldn't resort to that. If he stayed cool and calm, leaving
his act seamless, maybe he could still fix this. Maybe he could…
His alarm clock rang.
It was time to begin again.
Tsuna's eyes flickered briefly to it, pausing strategically before moving to
turn it off. He looked to Reborn's hammock. The baby's face was disgruntled,
but still in deep sleep. He bumbled out of bed, yawning loudly before making as
much noise possible to his closet. He opened it with a creaky yank, glanced at
at semi-conscious Reborn, and pulled out his uniform. He put it own just as
loudly, clumsily. By the time he was finished, Reborn was giving him a hard
stare from his hammock.
"Damn it Tsuna," Reborn mumbled before turning his back to him, "Do be quiet."
Tsuna sent an apologetic look to the baby, regardless the recipient hadn't even
seen it, "S-Sorry, I'll be careful next time."
And the first test of the day was done.
He scurried to the bathroom, ready to brush his teeth once, then twice, then
thrice. He gave a long lingering look to the shower before he went downstairs.
He was running a little later than usual, but it was still early. Nowadays he
was the one to wait for Gokudera and Yamamoto to walk by his house so they
could all go to school together. Before moving to stand in the kitchen, he made
sure his footsteps were echoing as he passed his mom's room. And judging by the
darkness from the thin slit under her door, she too, was still fast asleep.
He needed to eat. Despite it made him think of—a few plates in, he wondered why
he had ever thought this restaurant was so bad—it made him remember that he had
eaten that night too, before the, the—pretty eager little thing—incident—and he
couldn't stand the thought of eating. Even though he was in his own house. Even
though his mother bought that food for him. But he was just so scared, so
scared of feeling that feeling of the shame and disorientation of being drunk,
even though he hadn't consumed alcohol at all that night, he vaguely wondered
how it happened and—No stop stop.
When he made to stop in the kitchen he stared dully around him. He had to eat
though. He had to eat, even though he didn't want to. If he didn't eat then
they would see something different in him. It's been nearly two days and he
only drank juice last night (and that almost had him running up the stairs to
the bathroom) He would allow himself a piece of toast, and that was that. He
moved to unravel the loaf of bread's wrapper, pulling a single slice free. The
strong smell of wheat made him frown and made him hasten to wrap the bread
again. He shoved the toast in the toaster and stared until it was done. It
jumped out, predictably, but he still jumped too.
He removed the slice from the toast and took a small bite. It didn't taste like
anything but over-burned wheat and it comforted him just a bit. At least this
didn't make him want to hurl it out minutes after biting it. He was instantly
reminded of his incident at school at the thought. He had to be more careful,
even though he was sure no one had been watching him, there could've been
someone that had seen him stumbling out of those bushes and went to
investigate. Only to find evidence of exactly what had transpired.
There would be talk. Some would laugh, but pass it off as sickness. But still,
it would draw attention to him. And he couldn't allow that. He had to be
inconspicuous lest someone discovering what had happened in that alleyway—
No.
He thought, shaking it off. Now determined to not repeat the same mistake.
However, he would need to find a way to avoid eating if Hibari kept giving him
food. And next time, he may not have such great self-control.
His skin itched.
But first, shower. He turned tail and walked up the stairs.
—
Everyday, he thought of Pietro. It was hard not to. It was never hard to never
forget the pressing hands and the horrible pain of in and outs. The constant
fear always reminded him. Haunted him. It was becoming increasingly
distracting. It felt like it would not get any better, only worse. And Tsuna
needed a distraction to get away from the creeping dark that followed him. It
wasn't really actual dark, but figuratively, it felt like temptation.
Temptation for what, he didn't know.
But maybe, he did...he thought of the insidious darkness that weighed down on
that bottle cap, still nestled neatly beneath his pillow.
"Sawada!"
Tsuna turned, and struggled greatly not to shrink away as Ryohei ran up to him.
Stepping close, too close way too close and grinned with his hands pumped. "How
have you been?" He asked exuberantly. Tsuna took a step back and smiled at
Ryohei from that distance. Calm down, it's just Ryohei, he's not going to hurt
you, he wouldn't even if he could. But the fact still remained, cold and
turning icy quick. He could.
He reached back behind himself with a shaky hand, to squeeze his nape,
discreetly wiping away cold sweat. "Good," Tsuna replied, mentally adding, just
fine, just fine, I'm fine, please stop asking me questions, "Where's Kyoko?" He
asked next, looking around for any sign of the younger Sasagawa. For that and
the fact that he was alone with Ryohei alone alone and he just wanted someone
to be with them anyone, and oh god save him.
"Tsuna!" A delicate lilt of a voice called out from behind them. He
considerably relaxed.
He turned with a smile, because it was Kyoko, and Kyoko was similar to his mom.
Innocent, loving, sweet. She was naive, like his mother, never wanting anything
out of anyone. She was never on a hidden agenda. He only then realized, with a
sharp pang of guilt, that he hadn't even spoken to her since before that night.
Surely, he had? Or was he completely absorbed in appeasing Yamamoto, Gokudera
and Hibari he failed to remember that he had other people he spoke to in
school?
He couldn't remember, so he was determined to fix that. But his responding
smile dropped as quickly as it came. Because walking reservedly behind her, was
Hibari.
Why was Hibari walking to school?
Tsuna couldn't in his life understand why he would be walking with the
Sasagawas of all people to school. Especially if Hibari really did own a
motorcycle as rumors say. Perhaps it was being fixed? He was always under the
assumption that Hibari slept at school, since he was so crazy about it, after
all. He deliriously hoped that Hibari wasn't walking to school because of him,
because that had to be paranoia speaking. Kyoko stopped running to catch her
breath in front of them, looking expectantly at Tsuna for some reason and—oh.
She was waiting for him to greet her. "Hello, Kyoko," He said flashing a smile.
She said hello back then peered at Hibari, who had stalked to a stop by her
side too. His position was a little further away though, detached from their
small band of three. Hibari has never been one to flock with others. "It's such
a rare occurrence to see you Hibari," She said politely, her smile warm.
So he wasn't the only one who thought it was strange too.
"Yeah!" Ryohei agreed, "What are you doing around here? Extremely weird to find
you around here!"
Hibari only icily stared back at Ryohei, who gave no hint of faltering in his
usual sunny robust. "I am also inclined to attend school." Tsuna tried to
believe it was only his imagination that saw Hibari's eyes flicker to him then
away. He addressed Ryohei in a hard voice, "I suggest you all stop crowding
before I have my committee bite you to death."
He only gave them a single warning glance to all of them before walking ahead.
—
When Tsuna came to the next lunch, he finally finished the last of the three-
some portfolios of the school's student's IDs and names into the laptop's
database.
He was relieved to find no white plastic bag in sight.
He was hungry though. His stomach betrayed his relief.
However, the lunches with Hibari were far from over. The first thing he noticed
when he walked into the disciplinary office was the big hulking copy machine
that sat nestled between the wall and a potted plant. It was humming
irritatingly, and by the looks of it, was a very old model. He couldn't fathom
why it was in here. Hibari sat back in his chair, arms crossed and expectant.
Then stated matter-of-factly, "A disciplinary assistant photocopies documents
for distribution and filing."
And all of a sudden, Tsuna became the disciplinary assistant.
He worked gruelingly long in the next forty-five minutes of lunch. Insipidly
putting one paper on the copier and then repeat with another paper as Hibari
began listing the duties of a 'disciplinary assistant'.
A disciplinary assistant may work in computer laboratories, helping students
operate software to create word processing documents or to construct graphs,
tables or spreadsheets. The position may be assigned to tend to the upkeep of
campus grounds, to assist campus police to deal with any disruptive behavior.
Disciplinary assistants may be assigned to greet campus visitors and to field
phone calls from students relating to their subject field or on financial aid
issues. A disciplinary assistant also organizes bulletin boards and arranges
for the outlay of flyers and brochures relating to course programs.
As the list grew, he became increasingly uneasy.
Because these 'disciplinary assistant rules' sounded like Hibari was firing out
bullshit like a champion. He bit his lip and spoke for the first time,
interrupting the prefect's cool instructions, "Hibari-san, please, how much
longer do I need to come here?"
Hibari considered this question for the moment. "Forever." Was the reply.
And at that, Tsuna excused himself to the bathroom and daringly didn't come
back.
—
Reborn realized, he hadn't been to Tsuna's school for quite some time. He
mulled over this as his gaze roved student to student, looking for anyone
familiar. Hibari was particularly easy to pick out, his ever present
disciplinary gakuran atop his shoulders. And Reborn was bemused slightly,
because Hibari was starting to stalk towards him. Already looking for a fight
so early in the morning? Reborn smirked, tilting his put his hand in his
pocket, hand holding his gun at the ready. Hibari must've been waiting for him
to arrive at Namimori for him to look so decidedly determined.
"Infant," Hibari said indifferently, "I have a request."
Well that was odd.
Perplexed, and somewhat confused, Reborn withdrew his hand from his pocket and
away from his gun to cross his arms. "I'm listening."
—
Tsuna ran home. His bag was still in the classroom, but he honestly didn't
think he could step another step in that campus. Hibari was surely onto
something. He had to know something. Because why wouldn't he leave him alone?
Why did Hibari continue punishing him like this? Tsuna slammed the key into the
lock with a frustrated cry, and twisted violently. The house was strangely
pitch dark, even when it was in the middle of soon still. He stumbled through
the door in a flurry of movement, slamming it behind him.
He then remembered he didn't live alone. He stood eerily still, waiting for
Reborn or his mother or his dad or Pietro to come running, but no one came.
And there was a cold feeling in his stomach.
Sadly, deep down, Tsuna knew. No one was going to come. No one was going to
know. No one could know.
His breaths were coming out as short gasps, hardly enough to fill his lungs. He
knew this was his first attack in the longest time. He almost forgot the
feeling of it. He had been so distracted by Hibari that he—he—
No one wanted him.
Now that he was...was stained by Pietro, how could anyone ever want him?
Collapsing against the door, he realized how open and vulnerable he was out
here. He was truly alone. Eventually, if ever, the truth came out, everyone
would leave without a second thought. How could he protect his mom? His
friends? How could he become a leader, a boss of a mafia family? No one would
want him as Decimo, no one would follow him, a weak snivelling creature that
couldn't stop a man from...from raping him.
There, he thought viciously, he admitted it.
He never used the word before, but now there it was sitting there in the open.
As each second passed it looked increasingly repulsive in the limelight of his
eyes. He was stained. He grappled at his clothes. He ran upstairs, breathing
heavily.
He thought of his mom, Reborn, what they would say first, what they'd think.
They'd be so disappointed in him.
He would never marry Kyoko, couldn't marry her. He would only stain her too.
Reborn had been counting on him, he was the last of his blood that was
applicable for the role of boss. Gokudera and Yamamoto too, they thought so
highly of him, thought he was amazing when he really was a failure. His mom
always relied on him to be strong, to be the man of the family when dad was
gone. He couldn't help but resent them. Them and their happy bubble. He
couldn't help resent them because he knew once they knew what had transpired on
that night they would leave at the drop of a hat. He couldn't help but resent
how incredibly foolish they were to be acquainted to him.
The only person he could think that was smart enough at the beginning was his
dad.
He had the right idea, he was smart. It was a smart choice to leave Tsuna. It
was a smart choice to abandon such a useless son. His dad was right to leave
him to raise Basil. The Italian boy was everything he wasn't, couldn't be.
Basil was fearless, valorous, smart, and skilled after being taught and raised
by a man who could have been doing the same for his own son, but didn't. And it
was ingenious. His father was a genius.
He was right.
It was so black in his room to the point he couldn't see his hand in front of
his face. The curtains were drawn, probably from Reborn. The first thing he did
was struggle, claw really, at his clothes. He had so many layers under his
shirt and pants. It was constricting, it was suffocating. And he just wanted it
all off, all off and away get him away from me, please just get him away from
me. And once he was stripped to only his boxers, gasping, Tsuna crawled to his
bed, shoving his pillow aside to reveal what he was looking for.
He shouldn't. He shouldn't do it. If he was nothing now, this would make him a
monster.
But then, he argued, what did it matter? How else could he be further tainted?
He's already been mangled into this beyond recognition of his own self. He was
hungry and it clawed at his insides like angry lions. He was dirty. What was
one more bestializing stain to his soul?
The grasped the bottle cap in weak, fumble fingers. He stared numbly at it and
squeezed the cap experimentally. So hard his fingers turned white under the
pressure. And it was starting to hurt. Could he really go through with this if
he couldn't even handle that? Yes, he thought. Because if he did this, it would
make him stronger. And they wouldn't leave him.
Taking the cap's edge, he pressed it firmly to his thigh until his skin was
visibly breaking. And he rolled it with a grimace.
Pain.
He ripped the cap away at this, and it fell from his unresponsive fingers to
land noiselessly on the wooden floor. He stared in fixed fascination as red
bloomed abruptly from the jagged weal, reflective to the ridges of the bottle
cap. It gushed out in pulsing rivets, and he realized how much of a mess it
would be to clean it up.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: I have heard of bottle caps being used as a replacement for
     razors, so it was rather interesting writing it out. I just want to
     write the road of recovery soon. I'm getting rather depressed just
     writing this, really.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNINGS: Self-mutilation, blood, graphic panic attack.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When the blood threatened to spill over the bedding, he immediately leapt for a
discarded shirt on the floor. He held it to his thigh delicately, wincing. The
red spread quickly through the cotton. He grappled for the bottle cap and kept
it close. He couldn't leave it out there for anyone to stumble on it. He
decided to head to the bathroom and even though there was no one home, he was
extremely careful in his steps. He didn't want to be caught red handed, with
his pants off, and blood gushing out of the weal. It would rouse questions.
Questions would rouse revelations. He couldn't have that.
It was predictably still dark in the house as he shuffled through the hall in a
limping waddle. When he got to the bathroom he sat on the edge of the bathtub,
gingerly peeling off the shirt and ran it under hot water until it was
completely soaked through. Disgruntled, he folded the shirt and compressed it
to the little wound. It was little really, but it still bled enough for Tsuna
understand it had been deep.
But it couldn't escape his mind, as he tried hurdling over the tumult of
regret. How euphoric it felt when he did it. And for once in his life, Tsuna
felt in control.
Eventually though, the flow of red did stop when his cotton shirt was half-way
stained a dark pink. He needed some bandages he thought, getting up to waddle
over to the cabinet. He reached in, grabbed antiseptic and gauze, and brought
it back with him to the edge of the tub. He lifted his thigh, his lip quivering
slightly when his skin stretched. With careful hands, he applied the antiseptic
quietly and waited a moment for the pain to subside before encircling the gauze
around his leg.
Tsuna got up to stand in front of his mirror, and stared.
He had done it. And the most miraculous thing about it, he hadn't thought of
Pietro at all. He actually managed to repair himself without breaking down at
all.
He smiled.
—
Tsuna learned very quickly to hide the evidence.
He was disgusting, disgusting, he knew, but still. He couldn't get over the
fact how good it made him feel. Whenever he felt actual pain, not remembering
the ghost of it, he realized it was just the opposite of what he thought might
happen. It felt like release. Like permission to relax. It was going to be
okay. No one was going to find out. So that was why, the next lunch, Tsuna was
completely at peace when he went to Hibari. There was no choking unease, no
need to pretend. For once, he felt, felt.
Normal.
He peeked in stepping forward to stand in front of the couches, peering across
at Hibari. The prefect only stared him down. "You didn't return."
He furrowed his eyebrows and smiled apologetically, almost naturally really,
"I'm sorry Hibari-san, I didn't feel so good so I went home."
Hibari didn't reply, but he did stand. Even then, his pulse didn't quicken,
perspiration didn't spring up from his skin. He felt at ease. His eyes followed
Hibari as he took deathly silent steps the the door. He almost believed that
Hibari wanted him to remain here but when the prefect sent him a coldly
reserved look of inquiry, he began to follow.
The walk was awkward, but he still didn't feel like running away so he was in
the clear. Hibari was always three steps in front of him and Tsuna was happy to
keep it that way. When Hibari abruptly stopped however, he had to keep himself
from plowing right into him and he realized belatedly where they were going and
where they were now.
The library.
The double doors were suddenly much taller than he had remembered.
Now, Tsuna wasn't one for being academic and he knew that. He was most
confident Hibari knew that as well. And to be slightly honest, he had only been
inside maybe once or twice. But each time was always because he needed
something, never for his own volition. Not that this time was any different,
only that he was being forced by Hibari to be here. But why, he wondered, would
he be needed in a library. Hibari opened the door with a sense of regality, and
walked in. Tsuna trailed after, but only much more uncertain.
There was no one around, he realized. Even though Tsuna was sure there would be
some straggles of students trying to study during lunch time. He peered at the
reception desk. Not even the librarians were there. They were completely alone.
Which was...strange.
Before Tsuna could start panicking about this newfound revelation however,
Hibari spoke, "Disciplinary assistants help organize and maintain library
materials."
Hibari's quipped instructions distracted him momentarily, "This role also helps
students locate material and ensures displays are kept tidy and in alphabetical
order." But there was no students to help find materials for, Tsuna was tempted
to say but refrained as the prefect continued on, "Inquiries from students
relating to book renewals or availability are fielded. This position assists
with the ordering of new textbooks for various subject fields, prepares reports
for binding and filing in the library records department, maintains microfilm
records and assists students in accessing them."
Perplexed by the onslaught of information, there were small mercies when Hibari
translated his task of the day into words he could understand, "Those reading
material on that trolley," Hibari crossed his arms and jerked his chin to a
single silver pull-along that sat alone next to the reception desk, "Are to be
put in their right places. Get to it, little one."
Tsuna scrambled to obey, grasping the metal handle and tugged. The books atop
it was far more heavier than he anticipated and Tsuna dug his heels into the
floor to pull harder.
And winced, stopping his effort abruptly. Only because the exertion caused his
thigh to jostle slightly. He wondered if his skin broke and started bleeding
again. He looked to his thigh discreetly without moving his whole head to check
for any indication of red spots. There were none, so he was good.
But he could feel Hibari's eyes on him.
Tsuna gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar paranoia settle its talons
again deep in his chest. He couldn't break now, he was doing so good. The
bottle cap was in his pocket. The euphoria and peace was clear within his
reach. If only he could distract Hibari somehow and go behind a bookshelf
and...
No, he thought, shaking it off, he would dare not do that in school, he
wouldn't dare do it with someone in the same room. He had to ride out this wave
of terror.
Grasping the handle again, he tried putting less exertion on his thigh and used
his upper arms strength instead, which was to say, not much. The trolley did go
with his will and he continued pulling, much slower than he would've liked,
towards the bookshelves. There was movement beside him and he watched as Hibari
uncrossed his arms and sat in on of the available seats that was usually well-
used by students. The doodling on the table was a testament to that. Hibari
frowned at the little drawings, he eyed them with disdain.
Greatly appreciative of Hibari's small distraction, Tsuna pushed the cart
behind the first bookshelf. He leaned down on his heels and reached over to
grab the first book on the stack, and examined the spine.
B. PIET
Piet Botticelli.
His mind went blank.
Piet, Piet, Pietro, no it's just mere coincidence. Hibari couldn't know about
that. It was impossible. It just had to be coincidence. But then why was this
book the first? Why did it have to be this book? Why did Hibari make him put
away books? Hibari was in charge of discipline, not books. If he was
disciplinary assistant, then why was he putting away books?
These are the things he hates the most about himself: the ones that come out of
nowhere, creeping up on him slowly with no discernible trigger until he finally
notices the tight, achy feeling in his chest that he thought was merely a side
effect in his sacrifice to keep everyone out of this. As soon as he realizes
what's actually happening though, that's when it gets ten times worse. Fingers
and toes start tingling and black spots started to crowd at the corners of his
vision, his breath comes quicker as he's struck with horrible fear.
He knuckles his chest as surreptitiously as possible, flicking his eyes around
the room to make sure that his condition was so far went unnoticed by Hibari.
He's in luck though: the prefect is still engrossed with the table, most likely
scheming up ways to catch the perpetrator.
Tsuna realizes he has two options: he could try and count his breaths back to
normal and stave off the attack before Hibari does notice his difficulty; or he
can risk standing on his undoubtedly wobbly feet and walking further down the
shelves were he could break quietly in peace. He suspects he may be too late to
rely on the first method and therefore he decided to move. And fast.
He instinctively tries to take a deep breath in preparation for the effort of
standing back up and is reminded swiftly that isn't an option right now. A stab
of pain sliced through his chest sent a wave of sickness to deep down his
stomach. And despite the lack of oxygen in his lungs, he manages to surge into
a vertical position and hopes for the best. There is a couple of long agonizing
seconds during which his vision narrows to nearly a pinprick, and all he can
hear is the staccato thud of his heartbeat in his ears. But thankfully, the
sensation eases enough for him to walk past five or six, seven, eight, he lost
count of bookshelves.
When he reaches his destination, the furthest he could get from Hibari, he
gasps quietly for air, but the breathing doesn't ease up and he's hit by a
nauseating pulse of vertigo, strong enough to send him reeling into the shelf.
His hands, slick with sweat and half-numb, slip and slide over the wooden
panels and over the edges of books. He only just catches himself against those
books to save himself from pitching forward on his face. He is completely
confident he's been quiet thus far. He's had practice being quiet during his
attacks.
He stays like that for a moment, bending down low to the ground to ease some of
the pressure on his chest and waited for the ground to stop pitching.
He realizes only then, in his hand still, was B. PIET.
Suddenly, wet warmth runs down his face and he is momentarily confused through
the numbing pain when he sees red. It's blood, of course it's blood, but its
not coming from where he expected it to be. He was bleeding, lavishly really,
through his nose. He claps his hands over his face, and they're shaking too
badly to keep a fixed grip to stop the flow. When he draws back his hands, they
come back smeared grotesquely with dark red. His face must be a mess with it
too and Tsuna has to clean this all up lest Hibari finds out about his problem.
He tried to pick the the book—when had he dropped it—for reasons he didn't
understand, but he falls over and he knows instantly on contact with the cold
unforgiving floor that he can't get back up: his chest hurts too much, he's
going to probably have a heart attack, he's gasping for air that just simply
isn't there.
He thinks he hears footsteps rushing towards him, but soon the black spots get
bigger and bigger. And then, dark descended over his eyes like a storm cloud,
warm hands catch him under his arms and hauled him up closer to something
equally warm. The black gets so big, he can't see no longer.
And like a light, he's out.
—
When he wakes, he realizes he's in a completely unknown scenery. He almost
believes he's dreaming. He wasn't in a bed, no, he was in a futon. His backpack
laid discarded next to his pillow on the straw tatami mats. His shoes were no
where to be seen. The room around him was very retro, the sliding door was made
out of rice paper and sunlight filtered through it delicately onto his
embroidered bedding. Judging by the way light was being angled into the room,
it was nearly late afternoon, only moments before the sun would go down.
He sat up, bewildered, and jumped in alarm when a shishi doshi clapped loudly
in the distance, echoing eerily through the grounds of the large manor he was
in. Tsuna could see water from where he was, a small quaint pond filled with
tiny lives, bordered by round glistening black rocks of about the same size. He
could hear trees, birds in them, twittering excitedly.
And then Hibari walks in, briskly as ever. He too, had no shoes on, and his
socks padded lightly over the strawed mats. Hibari dumps something at the end
of Tsuna's futon. It's his duffel bag. The duffel bag he only uses when he
travels. He keeps his clothes in there, his bathroom essentials. Whenever he
stays a night.
With mounting horror, comprehension of his situation hits him with a force akin
to a train. He now knew where exactly he was. He knew why.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: Jesus. That panic attack was so hard to write.
     Well now, you probably all understand right? Hibari's request was to
     have Tsuna stay over at his estate. And with Reborn's permission,
     Tsuna's fate is sealed. However, Hibari also made sure to have Reborn
     promise not to interfere or bother them during Tsuna's duration of
     his stay. Even though the baby is sort of perplexed with Hibari's
     sudden involvement in Tsuna's life, he allows it. He starts to get
     suspicious of what those two are up to.
     Someone said that Shamal would be a great edition to this story. I
     think so too. Shamal, on some level, hates men too right? Perhaps I
     could tie that in somewhere. I'm not quite sure how could I introduce
     Shamal without Tsuna being utterly terrified of him since he's a man
     also. When he does come, he'll explain Tsuna's psychological damage
     and his physical symptoms like why his nose bled and why he's prone
     to throwing up.
     Thank you for reading and for all the support!
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     TRIGGER WARNINGS: Forced eating, self-mutilation.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Hibari didn't say anything, and decided on drinking in Tsuna's face as the
younger teen recollected his memory of what happened hours before. The
realization of it sunk deep in his empty, empty stomach like lead. Hibari had
to know now. He would first have his way with him and then tell his mother, his
friends, and they would leave. How could he not know what happened to Tsuna
now? There had been so much blood. Now Hibari had this grip on him, especially
at the lengths Tsuna took so no one could find out, Hibari now had his
completely and utter control.
Hibari motioned him upwards and on shaky knees, Tsuna obliged obediently.
The prefect turned without a word, and Tsuna wanted nothing more than to just
stay where he was. At least there was a way out if he only wanted to. But
despite his greatest desires and the rapidly turning cogs of his overwhelmed
mind, he followed. Hibari still said nothing as they walked and it made him
nervous, Tsuna staying a relatively far distance behind. He would dare not come
closer, and for the first time, it wasn't a fear that Hibari would beat him for
crowding, but by his own apprehensiveness of close contact.
He wasn't sure what to make of their direction of their destination however, as
the hallways seemed to be unnecessarily long and Tsuna knew if he was lost, he
would not find his own way back. It was as if Hibari deliberately put him in
that room, making sure Tsuna's escape wasn't easy.
They came across the main threshold, much to Tsuna quietly immense relief.
There was an escape to the outside and he wished he really took care in their
way here and back. They kept walking down until they turned and was met with
another mirroring hallway, only this time, there was an opening to a brightly
lit room.
Hibari did not pause in waiting for Tsuna's hesitance for he walked right in,
the sun dancing off his gakuren and uniform. There was a sheen that reflected
off of Hibari's jet black hair as he turned to look at Tsuna. They arrived in a
kitchen, with a modern stove and dishwasher. Hibari pointed to the table
mutely.
Tsuna's eyes followed the arm's point and he tried not to flinch back in
horror.
There was what looked like fried rice and chicken wrapped in saran wrap, the
thin clingy plastic acted as a barrier to oxygen prevents food spoilage, and
the barrier to flavor and aroma molecules helps food retain its flavor and
aroma. He knew that that food was only made moments ago because the kitchen
still smelled slightly of fried oil. His stomach convulsed, desperately
starving but not wanting to endure more inside pain.
"Eat." Was Hibari's only reply.
He was wondering if Hibari was an insane sadist, if he hadn't figured so
already, that there was just no way Tsuna could possibly stomach that food. But
Hibari's eyes were not one of condescension but of curiosity. He was testing
him, once again. He had done this before, with the shrimp but Tsuna—his
repressed his proud smile—had managed to escape. The dark mirth was gone when
Tsuna realized that this time, he would have to eat it all, and he couldn't
escape.
And if he was going to prove Hibari wrong, at whatever it was he was thinking,
then he couldn't try to protest. Tsuna prayed that if he managed to pull this
off, Hibari would let him go. He made a show of confusion out of his expression
and sat down, bewildered. He took off the plastic from the plate. The food was
still warm and the smell hit his nostrils almost instantaneously.
As he did so, Hibari placed a cup of orange juice at the side of the plate with
a carefully blank face, picking up his own food. Hibari had a matching set of
Tsuna's dinner, but instead of fried rice, was steamed. He picked up a spoon,
scooping some rice and brought it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He stared
around him at the kitchen, feigning innocence.
When he kept going, the task became a chore. It shouldn't have even been
considered a task, it was just eating, and it was just gross of him to think of
it as so from the start. The oily food was slipping down his tongue, sliding
down his throat, piling up in a sick mess inside his stomach. It felt heavy
inside him, and it was too late to get it out. Desperately wanting it to digest
faster, he sipped a large gulp from his glass, hoping the pulpy orange would
wash away the churning. He sat there in a slight pause and realized that it
only made it more unbearable. Everything sat in his stomach like a dead weight,
like something crawled in there and just died.
It became slightly too much, so much, he was unable to hold back a small sound
of discomfort.
"Guhh..." Tsuna surprised even Hibari as he let out a glutteral groan, ugly, as
if he brushed his teeth with sandpaper. Orange juice was suppose to be healthy,
wasn't it? He thought with slight dementia. It was vitamin C, and Tsuna hadn't
been eating any fruits lately, so it would've done the opposite effect right?
He was proven horribly wrong when another great wave of sickness crashed over
him and he began gasping and gagging. He had to get out. He had to get this
stuff out of his stomach. Tsuna jumped up, barely in his right mind and hadn't
even taken the time to think it through. He abandoned the food and drink. The
chair he was sitting on skidded backwards by the abrupt standing, and he began
stumbling towards the mouth of the kitchen. He at least didn't want to throw up
in Hibari's house.
But before he could even take a step out of the room, a long arm wrapped around
Tsuna's torso, grabbing at his opposite shoulder from where it emerged from.
Another pale hand reached up, clapping over Tsuna's mouth. He wanted to scream,
wanted to scream loud. Oh god this guy was going to do it to him. He was going
to take all Tsuna had left of himself, he was going to utterly murder him. He
struggled, beating his hands against Hibari's arms, twisting his shoulders and
swinging his head away. But Hibari did not let go, despite his roughhousing.
"Keep it in," Hibari said harshly to him, squeezing his hand harder around
Tsuna's lower half of his face, the back of his head pushing into Hibari's own
shoulder with an abrupt snap. "Swallow it down. Keep that in."
Tsuna did, out of pure unadulterated fear of being taken again. He became limp,
and concentrated on nothing but the feeling of the bile rising back down his
throat, leaving a disgusting aftertaste in his mouth. His whole weight leaned
on Hibari, and the only thing keeping them upright was the taller teen. When
Tsuna came back to himself and saw the perturbed look in Hibari's eyes, he knew
he had failed. Again.
—
Tsuna sat in the futon in his pajamas. He stared at nothing, as if he was
seeing everything from a distance.
In the strained silence of Tsuna's rapid thinking, he hadn't realized Hibari
had set something in front of him. It was a low small table, usually used for
the sick in bed. On it was simply, a glass of cold water and what looked like a
bowl of pudding with a banana to the side.
He was absolutely bewildered but Hibari said nothing to explain the bizarreness
of the situation.
Because the older teen did nothing, Tsuna assumed that Hibari wanted him to
start eating it. So cautiously, Tsuna picked up the spoon and ate. The pudding
was strawberries and bananas he was sure. But taste was little to nothing to
him now, so it felt like heavy mucky weight on his tongue. "Hibari-san," Tsuna
said after swallowing once, "What is this? Where am I?" He decided to play
dumb, because he did have a clue why he was here, but it was best to pry the
information based on what Hibari already knew.
"You will rehabilitate here for the time being." Hibari said stiffly, ignoring
his questions. And Tsuna grew ill at ease when he heard, "The food. You have
not been eating." The older teen did not let him reply, and Tsuna flinched away
when Hibari got up suddenly, walking back out the room. Tsuna was contemplating
how he should get rid of the food without eating it when moments later, Hibari
returned, not even a minute longer away. He grimaced quietly as a too-tall
glass of milk was placed before his eyes.
He peered up at Hibari's stoic face, not a hint of any judgement. "You will eat
all this. And you will not throw it away. The fruit is to regain your vitamins,
and the milk will strengthen your bones into something more suitable for
function."
But there were no accusing tones, no pushing eyes like he had all but expected.
Even if Hibari's words had been a command, somehow, Tsuna knew it had been
spoken otherwise. There was no true forcing: no words of making Tsuna see a
shrink for doing what he did and fixing what made him become like he was now.
And then it hit.
Hibari didn't know about what happened in the alleyway. He didn't know about
the giant jagged welt on his thigh. Even Tsuna knew that anyone else would make
him fix what he had become. What Hibari only thought he knew was that Tsuna had
an eating disorder, and that was all. He tried not to feel too deliriously
relieved, tried not to show it on his face.
He still held the spoon in one hand, and saw, more than did, the spoon scoop up
more yogurt and brought itself up to his mouth. Tsuna opened, brought it in,
and closed, at the same time, pushing the spoon back out through pursed lips.
He repeated this until the bowl was scraped clean. He peeled the banana and ate
in small bites while drinking his milk to flush the worst of the discreet gags.
He felt empty and disgusting as he realized that the slow swallows did nothing
extraordinary. He didn't feel any less different than he had before he ate, but
at least this small snack didn't want to make him run out and throw up all his
guts onto the grass. But he wanted to be alone. He wanted to get out of here.
Hibari got up to his feet, bending down to pick the table with ease. Then the
panic suddenly hit. Stricken with the desire to stop him, he was going to tell
everyone, he was going to tell his mom, his friends, Reborn. Especially Reborn,
he thought, Reborn was the one he favored. Before Tsuna could stop himself, he
grabbed at Hibari's pant's leg. The prefect looked momentarily stunned when
Tsuna babbled, "Don't tell anyone, please."
With narrowed eyes, Hibari pulled his leg away from Tsuna's grasp. "Tell what,
herbivore?" His cold eyes did not waver in the slightest as Tsuna stared back
with widened ones. He had gotten the attention, but now that he had it, he
wasn't quite sure what to do with it. He had not been expecting the retort, but
if he were to be completely honest, he hadn't known what he really was
expecting. Tsuna could not answer, or give a semblance of a reply. And as if
Hibari already knew he was going to remain silent, he walked away, his feet
padding quietly on the strawed mats.
—
When Hibari's footsteps receded behind the closed door into silence, he decided
to venture for a bathroom. He got up, knees wobbly as he pulled himself
vertically. It was a big mistake on trying to hasten the process. He reeled
backwards, into the door. Luckily, he managed to push the balls of his palms
into the wall, greatly quieting the small struggle. He slid the door open,
peeking his head out left and right. He didn't know where to start for he was
met with the sight of a very large hallway with many doors on each side. He
pulled open the one from across him.
It was relatively dark inside, there was no sunlight in here. The room was
neat, like Tsuna's own had been, but this one seemed sterile in comparison to
the sunlit one behind him. There was a futon in here too, neatly rolled up, but
not yet stored away. He was relieved to see a door in here, and walked over the
futon to reach it. He peeked in, relieved to see a toilet there.
He locked the door behind him, disgusted at his immense relief by it, and began
to pull down his pants to do his business.
Two things happened simultaneously: one, he was met with the sight of his
bandaged thigh, it stuck out ugly against the rest of his newly-unmarred skin.
It was done unprofessionally, sloppy. It was proof of his first real sinful act
against himself. Two was the most noticeable, the bottle cap clacked to the
bathroom floor, having fallen from his pocket. In a trance, his eyes followed
it as it rolled and hit the wall opposite of where he stood, reeling fast until
it fell silent and still.
He abandoned his need to relieve himself and scrabbled after the bottle cap
like his life depended on it. He slammed onto the floor, forcing the air out of
own lungs in panic. But he managed to trap the bottle cap in his cupped fists.
Sitting up straighter with his legs folded on either side of him, he held the
bottle cap close, thinking, god he had to do it again.
Hot cold sweat was pouring down his neck, his ears were throbbing, his head was
beating like it too was a heart. He was just so terrified for no reason.
He was feeling the panic settle in again, making his blood race faster. It was
a sign. He was disgusted by how much he knew he needed it, but he needed it. He
was afraid he was going to break again, repeat the event of what happened in
the library. He wanted to feel calm again, feel in control. If he didn't do it
again, there was no telling when he could. It was the perfect opportunity.
Hibari wasn't here, he was behind a locked door: everything was turning in his
favor.
He thought of Hibari, whose arm had wrapped tightly around his torso, gripping
his shoulder tightly. It was as if he could still feel the heat from the
other's body, the warm hand over his mouth, making sure he ate. Making sure he
didn't continue making horrible mistakes.
He thought of Pietro's grating laughter, the horrible feeling of the in and
outs.
Unseeingly, unthinkingly, he pushed the bottle cap into his other thigh and
broke skin. He rolled.
He moved down about half an inch and repeated.
On the third one, he was interrupted by his doubts in his actions, the last
remnant humane part of himself. Don't do it, his mind screamed at him, don't do
no more. Distracted and confused by his own fighting consciousness, suddenly
feeling like screaming himself, Tsuna rolled too far and the red did not pause
like the others had in gushing in hot sluggish bursts from the new wound, three
times longer than the rest. Hot white filled his vision, making him feel
different, strange, better.
He felt like crying, for he hadn't meant to do that. But it made him feel
better anyway. It was bigger than the others, a bigger story.
When the white disappeared, with a clear calm mind, he pulled some tissue from
the roll—there wasn't a lot, he'd have to be careful in coming here again to
clean up—and mechanically pressed lightly on the three new wounds with the
white-already-soiled sheets. With his other free hand he opened the cabinet he
had only just noticed that was at eye level with. He was relieved to see a full
stock of rolled gauze in there. Not caring to wonder why however, he reached
in, unraveling the white strips over his new wounds.
When he was sure he was ready to go back to bed, he threw the soiled tissues in
the toilet and flushed.
With an even more clean-slated mind, he mechanically walked back to his room
and fell into his futon, falling into deep sleep. He smiled. For he had gotten
away with it. And Hibari may attempt to pity, even help, him on his strange
eating habits. But the taller teen would never know about what he just did. He
would never know about Pietro or anything. It kept him sane, how in control he
felt. He knew a secret Hibari didn't, and it felt good.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: So Hibari feeds him, makes the mistake of feeding him too heavily
     the first day and makes this up to Tsuna by making him a decently
     good easy-to-digest snack later on. Its just sad that the fact that
     Hibari wants to do something for him seems to fly over Tsuna's head.
     Thank you for the support, everyone. I'm humbled and thrilled by the
     fact that you're all still with me, despite how some of you confessed
     on how disturbed you all were by Tsuna's behavior.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Oh look! No trigger warnings this chapter!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Tsuna did not feel wary when he woke up. In fact, he felt somewhat lucky and
content. Lucky that he didn't have to go to school, didn't have to make a show
out of himself in front of so many critical prying eyes. He stretched in his
futon with a satisfied groan, sliding his arms under his pillow and arching his
back as he flipped slowly onto his stomach. When his stretch fell wider, he
stopped abruptly when he felt the pull of the bandages constrict him just
slightly.
He laid there for a moment, staring at the white of his pillow, recalling his
actions of the night before.
What had he been thinking? He had done it under the same roof as Hibari. He
thought he was safe behind a locked door. And Tsuna knew by personal experience
that nothing, and most certainly not a flimsy lock, could ever stop someone
like Hibari. He sat up, pulling his legs on either side of himself, gingerly,
as to not open the cuts again.
He stared at the dim light of the rising sun creeping slowly in white rivets
through the rice-papered door.
Hibari would hate him. He would think him useless, more than he ever was
before, probably beat him black and blue because he was just so weak. It was
bad enough he already knew of Tsuna's inability to eat in large quantities
without upchucking it, but if he knew why...Tsuna shuddered, the hair on his
arms rising from the thought.
He was insane, Tsuna thought, and extremely lucky. It was just pure luck Hibari
had not been searching for him during those long moments. Pure luck that Hibari
hadn't busted through that door and found him on that bathroom floor, his legs
pooled at his ankles like a slag and slicing up his thighs with a bottle cap.
He reached in his pajamas pocket, searching for it, but stilled when his hand
came back empty. He checked his other pocket by digging his other hand in it.
When it also wasn't in there, Tsuna stood up abruptly, patting himself
desperately for the familiar silver. When he could not find it on his body, he
kicked the pillow away, eyes beseeching to inanimate objects, as if they had a
clue where his only salvation was.
He ripped his blanket off his futon, and when it was stripped bare, he threw
the futon over his shoulder with a quiet gasp and some difficulty. When he
still couldn't find it, he leaped over to his duffel bag and grabbed the edges.
He upturned it, watching and waiting expectantly, deliriously, for a familiar
silver to come tumbling out along with his toiletries and t-shirts. He threw
his pants and extra clothes over his shoulders, all falling into a growing
messy heap, keeping the bare futon behind him company.
Tsuna dug desperately through the pile when his bag was proven to be empty,
even in the pockets. Once, twice.
Clothes tumbled from his hands when he realized where he last used it. Shooting
up onto his feet, Tsuna ran, his feet thudding against the wood of the
floorboards. He skidded to a halt in front of the familiar door, throwing it
open and running to its connecting bathroom.
He twisted the doorknob, slamming it open and froze into a sudden halt as he
met gazes with Hibari, who stood in front of his mirror, a brush in his mouth.
Hibari was in his pajamas, basic black with white hems.
Tsuna watched unblinkingly as Hibari spat neatly in an arc into the sink,
washing his brush calmly under running water and setting it down neatly into a
glass cabinet he only just noticed. His blood thudded loudly in his ears as he
stared affixed in horror. "Herbivore," Hibari began lowly, and Tsuna's teeth
clacked more than once quietly in mute trepidation, "Why are you in my
bathroom?"
Oh god oh god. The fact that he had used Hibari's own personal bathroom last
night to cut in made it only a thousand times worse than it really was.
"I uh," Tsuna felt like someone was choking him, he lied quickly, "I need to
use the toilet."
Hibari didn't seem to look as if he believed him for a second, but stepped
outside anyway, and watched with narrowed eyes as Tsuna skittered inside right
after and closed the door behind himself, locking it with shaking hands. Not
that it wouldn't stop Hibari but it would inevitably warn him when he was
coming at least. His behavior surely was suspicious by now, he just knew it,
Hibari was probably standing outside his door with that eerie stare of his:
judging, waiting.
He quietly, but quickly crouched to his ankles, going on his hands and knees
when he became absolutely impatient. Tsuna pushed his cheek to the tiled floor,
eyes roving around the white linoleum for the familiar round silver. It was
absolutely maddening to know that there were no bathroom rugs here, Tsuna
wanted to tear it off the floor, wanted to tear through this bathroom like he
had in his temporary room.
He sat up coming back empty. His chest rose and fell tumultuously with a
paralyzed inability to accept its significance.
He lost it. It would've been completely innocent, it was just a bottle cap. But
the real problem was there and inescapable: he couldn't remember if he washed
it clean.
And without warning of any sort, the door opened. He locked it, he was sure he
did. Hibari pushed it open, staring at him where he sat on the floor. Tsuna
could feel the blood drain from his face and for one horrifying moment he
thought he was going to faint. The room tilted and everything swirled around in
a wild madman's dance.
Hibari held his fist in front of him and unclasped. His palm held up, one
glance and Tsuna recognized it right away. The familiar silver, matted mostly
in dark brown. He knew what it was. It was encrusted in blood. His blood.
"Is this herbivore," Hibari held it up, pinched between his pointer finger and
his thumb tightly, the pads of his hands turning paper white with tension,
"What you were searching for?" The taller teen held his hand out further to him
abruptly, forcing Tsuna to look at it harder. "This is what you've been
hiding?"
"H—" How did you get that? Was what he was going to originally say, but he
changed quickly, "What is that?"
Hibari's eyes narrowed impossibly more, seeing right through Tsuna's brush off.
Hibari began stalking towards him, socked feet padding loudly against the
tiles. The movement was so abrupt, so sudden and terrifying Tsuna jumped up,
slamming into the opposite wall, "Don't touch me!" He shouted, a hybrid between
a scream and a roar, his hands held up in front of him, as if to ward off the
incoming taking.
He was weak, he wouldn't be able to stop him, but at least he would put up a
fight this time. At least he could do that.
Hibari did stop though, and he realized with a jump that he had just said
something so uncharacteristic of himself. He knew he was a goner. His legs were
shaking so badly that Tsuna just knew the only thing holding him up was pure
fear. His voice was a cracked terrified whisper. He was still holding on,
afraid that he would fall if he let go. "Please, don't come any closer. I
swear," Tsuna babbled, gasping, eyes wide, "I swear, I'll—I'll," But what could
he do? He was just so weak. So weak and just so tired.
He was hungry, a festering animal in his stomach.
He was constantly scared, a shadow at his side.
He was always dirty, the need to clean was still impossibly there, even if
months had passed since then.
He closed his eyes, a helpless sense of inevitability engulfing him.
Slowly, ever so slowly, it was the slowest he's seen Hibari move. The older
teen always moved with purpose, in long prideful strides. It was an alien sight
to see him inch his way, almost soft and gently, towards Tsuna. He felt as he
was watching from a window, an observer from outside of his own body as Hibari
reached up with his left hand and traced his fingers along Tsuna's right
shoulder.
Tsuna didn't even flinch, for he was in too far gone in his shock.
Hibari eventually moved down, trailing down his arm until the long pale fingers
grasped at the hem of his long sleeve. It tugged his sleeves up. And then
repeated this process with his other arm. Tsuna realized, distinctly, that
Hibari was checking for cuts. Looking for proof of where the blood from the
bottle cap came from. He also realized, that he didn't even recoil as badly as
he thought he would when his skin became exposed and scrutinized under those
stern eyes.
Eyes that were stern, not taking, not judging, only stern.
When he was finished, Hibari looked confused. The prefect looked as if he was
considering if it was too much too quickly to lift up Tsuna's shirt to check
his torso when Tsuna spoke, his voice cracking in the strain, "It's not there.
It's on my thighs." Despondency overtook him. There was no going back now. No
escape from the truth. No escape from his arms. Resistance faded and he felt
numbed and lifeless.
It didn't matter any more. Nothing mattered.
With ever so shaking hands, Tsuna grasped the waistband of his sweats, sitting
on the bathtub's edge. He pulled down and his pants fell to his ankles. He
remembered this feeling, his pants on the floor, from many nights ago, it felt
just as terrifying but Tsuna was afraid of both for different reasons. The
bandages met both of them, an eerie testament to what had been taking place
behind the scenes of Tsuna's perfect life.
Tsuna swallowed miserably, "I couldn't have them on my arms...people would
notice. I rarely ever wore shorts so I decided to..." He made a helpless
gesture with hand. He gave Hibari a quick glance, then looked away, "I...I was
scared."
Scared was one of the words that Tsuna assumed were foreign to the likes of
Hibari Kyoya. It just wasn't in the prefect's vocabulary so he was momentarily
surprised by when Hibari didn't comment on how weak it was but asked a hard
question of inquiry instead, "Of what?"
And then it was back again, the resistance, the revolt against Hibari's probing
questions. Tsuna stiffened in defense—his whole body growing rigid with
instinctive rebellion.
Sensing Tsuna's change and feeling doubt roll off the shorter teen in waves,
Hibari altered his voice into something less forceful, "I've seen your
alteration. You were not like this at the beginning of the school year. But no
one had noticed it, not the infant, not those herbivores you call comrades."
Hibari looked at the wall behind Tsuna's head, "But I did. I did, and it
disquieted me. It kept me awake for days, I was unable to comprehend what had
happened to commence such drastic change."
It had been done good-willedly but it was mistakenly the most inappropriate
thing to say at the moment.
And suddenly, it felt like someone just squeezed a hot iron on his chest. Tsuna
felt angry. Angry at himself, angry at Hibari, angry at Pietro. Hibari had been
watching him all this time, this whole time. He couldn't believe that all his
efforts were for nothing. From the very start, he was suspected. Scrutinized
like a bizarre creature in a glass case. "You talk like you know me!"
He was trembling, fighting a battle inside himself, to get away from him or to
stay here. He couldn't sit there, so close to him with all the pent-up despair
inside he, the anger, the fear of what he knew not how to tell him. But he
wanted to stay, for reasons he didn't understand.
Hibari's moment of hesitation had Tsuna stand up and backing even further away,
feeling like a terrified animal. He could not run out, for the taller teen
could easily stop him if he tried, since he was standing at the only way out.
Hibari's eyes looked at the bandages, and noticed the distance and connected
two and two together. It was a great struggle in trying to maintain the
gentleness, but the taller teen slowly lifted his free hand, palm up to the
ceiling at the side of his hip. "Come here."
Tsuna shook his head.
"Come here." He said again, tone unchanging.
But even as Tsuna shook his head again, Hibari did not make any moves to get
closer to Tsuna. There was no stern narrowing of the eyes, no pinched lips of
displeasure. Hibari's face was carefully blank, soft in the outlines of his
facial features. Something elusive was behind that voice, behind those eyes.
Hibari wasn't going to come closer to Tsuna. He was waiting for the other to
come to him.
Hibari was giving him a choice.
He never had a choice, he thought of everything he did as a task, a chore, a
requirement. And he never realized how much he needed a choice up until now.
Jaw trembling, Tsuna slowly inched back in front of Hibari stopping until there
was a good twelve inches between the tips of their feet. He expected Hibari to
grasp him, his arm, his shoulder, anything but the teen just stood there,
staring. His hand still held up.
It was another choice here too. Obviously, Hibari was waiting for him to take
that hand. Tsuna did, after a moment's hesitation. The hand was warm, not
grabbing or taking. "You were," Hibari made sure Tsuna was listening. He was,
almost too intently really, "You were scared to touch. Frightened of it being
exposed. Something had happened to you, that caused this." Hibari looked to the
bandages and the back up to his face, his head movement slow.
Tsuna was slightly shocked on how accurate that was, but nodded. He was glad
Hibari wasn't asking him, but guessing, or more like stating, instead. Giving
him choice. He was handling all the talking, taking the weight of telling the
truth himself off of Tsuna's shoulders.
"Sawada Tsunayoshi, you want help."
No, not that kind of help, Tsuna shook his head but paused midway. What did he
want now? No he didn't want that kind of help. But he peered at Hibari's face,
carefully bare of expressions. He did understand though: whatever Hibari wanted
to do, he wanted that kind of help. The help that didn't force, didn't take.
Didn't destroy what he had left. He wanted this. He wanted what was happening
now: the hunger, the fear, the dirtiness—It just wasn't there anymore. It was
just gone.
He nodded his head, closing his eyes, a sign of acceptance. He wanted help. He
wanted it badly. But only from Hibari. Only him.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: So now Hibari knows about the cuts. However, he doesn't know how
     deeper it roots from. He doesn't know about Pietro. Yet. Thank you
     for all the support and advice you all gave me. It inspire me to
     write this within two days I updated the last chapter. I have to be
     updating Boogie Man now. c= Gotta concentrate on that one too.
     Please R&R! /squints at you all/ I see you guysssss, last chapter got
     more hits, more visitors, more alerts, more favorites than any other
     chapter in this story before, almost tripling. I don't like griping
     about how I want reviews and such, but I really do appreciate some
     acknowledgement, it really does encourages me to continue. Forgive me
     for saying that I was disappointed by the lack of communication. =c
     Even grammatical/misspelled errors are very well received. Any
     communication! I just feel like I'm talking to myself here when I
     update, true story.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     I've decided after some thought. I'm not going to list any trigger
     warnings at the beginning of chapters anymore. We're already this far
     in the game so I think you all know what to expect now without too
     much surprises. I'm only doing this due to the fact that trigger
     warnings give away the story before they're read. So enjoy the
     intensity without prewarning!
They ate early lunch in absolute silence. No words were exchanged, and
movements made on both ends were slow and careful. Tsuna found that he could
stomach some easy food. Such as light fruit like soft canned cream mangoes and
easy-to-make broccoli soup. Hibari ate steamed rice, chewing small pieces of
seasoned beef from a bowl. It was silent. Like roving through a minefield.
A minefield, that's where they were.
He knew Hibari was keeping an eye on him, even if the other stared pointedly at
his food. But there wasn't any problem: Tsuna found no desire to hurl up what
he ate, no need to make a mad dash to the bathroom to dispose of his stomach's
contents. It was probably the most peaceful breakfast-and-lunch he ever had in
months. It relieved him. Made breathing easier.
He finished before Hibari actually, for the prefect was a surprisingly slow
eater even with Tsuna's condition. He stood up, ready to put his bowls in the
sink and wash it himself. When he felt Pietro's hands on his bare hips, he
suddenly realized his pants and underwear was pooled at his ankles.
He gasped, eyes as wide as they could go, and promptly dropped his bowl on the
counter. He had finished that bowl, but still there was some residue of cheese
and it splattered lightly on the ceramic top. "S-Sorry!" He apologized quickly.
The rising pressure came, and with shaking hands he tried picking it up,
collecting it again as he wiped the table with his bare hand. On instinct, his
hands flew to his waistband, insuring that his pants were still on. What was
that just now?
He managed to gather the utensils and moved to the sink, when he felt Pietro's
clothed crotch pressed against his backside and his large hands gripped at his
hips and there was the sound of a zipper that wasn't his being undone.
This time it wasn't gasp, but a violent push away, nearly toppling over himself
as he fell sideways. He scrabbled for the counter he found there, keeping
himself vertical. When he came to, he realized it was Hibari who stood behind
him instead, not Pietro. He had finished with his own food and stood behind
Tsuna waiting for his own turn at the sink.
"Sorry!" Tsuna apologized again, in an attempt to cover up his behavior. He
found himself miserable as Hibari's expression gave nothing away. Not surprise,
not anger, not judgement. He was partially grateful for it, for Tsuna wasn't
sure if he could take emotions from someone that wasn't him. But it also
frustrated him. He almost wished Hibari would hate him so he could just go
away.
It was quiet again for a moment.
He was partially glad the other knew the gist of what was wrong with him, but
knowing and actually witnessing it was a different matter entirely. He felt
weak again, and he knew Hibari thought he was weak. He was fine with that, it
was better than knowing how disgusting Tsuna was for being taken so easily.
Worse of all: he had mistaken Hibari as Pietro, though it was confidently
impossible for him to be anywhere near here. The guilt was overwhelmingly
overriding him, how could he compare his friend—if he could be called that—to
Pietro? That man was a monster, the beast that was the bane of his existence.
How could he even put those two in the same thought?
Pushing himself off the counter he tried to act as if nothing was wrong.
Strong. If he wanted help, he had to be strong.
"We," Hibari began, and paused as he stood watching Tsuna's slight twitch, "Are
going out."
He felt his heart thud hard in his chest, "Wha—why?" Outside? He thought of the
prying eyes, the critical stares that seemed to know exactly his deep dark
secret. God, he really didn't want to.
But the older teen says nothing, and Tsuna is once again left to follow after.
He sighs, realizing that this was becoming routine and obediently walked behind
the other's strides. The entrance has his shoes there, and he hadn't thought of
where they could've been until now. He slipped them on mechanically, eyes
trained on his shoelaces even as Hibari opened the door to the outside.
When he stepped out, he couldn't avoid looking around. He was shocked to find
that they were no where he recognized. There was a neat cobbled path, leading
to a fenced gate and beyond laid a trail of matted dirt. Their surroundings was
what looked like a woodland area, and power lines that stood on large wooden
stakes ran up and down the dirt road. It looked very old and covered in various
greenery. The house, manor, viewed from the outside look just as old with its
faded paint that was probably once a clean khaki.
The prefect shooed Tsuna to go out first as he followed after and closed the
gate behind them. He stared at the blue sky above them. He hadn't realized they
were at an incline until he stepped onto the road. He had to jog to keep up
with Hibari as he began walking uphill.
They exchanged no words as they walked, and by now, Tsuna was very well used to
the quiet. He understood now that Hibari was not a social creature, and it was
best to play by his rules. The only sounds were their feet hitting the dirt,
occasionally crunching, and their breathing. They walked up that incline, to
the point where it was becoming too steep, until finally they were met with
stone stairs.
There was no hesitation as Hibari strode up those stone stairs, and he must've
been used to walking up and down steep areas, because his breathing was still
slow and even. Tsuna's own breaths were becoming faster with exertion.
He made sure to stay a little behind the other teen, as to not uncomfortably
crowd him. Eventually, they reached the top of the stairs, and Tsuna breathed
out a exhale of confusion.
In front of them, was the Namimori shrine.
He's been here plenty of times, in the past, present, and future. He had always
entered through the front stairs that lead down to Namimori's suburbs. But he's
never noticed these second set of stairs that led to the opposite end of the
hill. He hadn't known Hibari lived here either. But it did make sense now why
the future Hibari had chosen his secret base to be here, it was just like him
to stay close to home.
After a moment's pause of allowing Tsuna to catch up with him, Hibari kept
walking, striding across the stretch of grass. As he walked, the surrounding
foliage seemed to thin somewhat, and light shone through with greater
intensity; Tsuna could feel it warm his skin more with closer proximity, and he
soon found out why. It was supposedly closed off the the public, due to the
fenced gate around it, but it was not locked and it seemed that Hibari had been
here more than once by the way he entered.
At the end of the trail and past the gates was a clearing with a massive stone
cliff, laced with the fuzzy moss typical of the area. Past the cliff was more
forest – no majestic lakes or the like. There were some hints of civilization
down there, proof that they hadn't just stepped in an alien world, but were
still in Namimori. But despite this plain scenery, several feelings hit Tsuna
at once.
He managed to find a word that fit: safe.
His eyes were wide as he took in the expanse of blue sky. This was a sitting
area, he realized, when he noticed the one or two benches that sat facing the
edge of the cliff. They were very, very high up. He hadn't really looked around
him, but was a little shocked with the wooden fencing. They really only acted
as a warning to any hikers, because the gaps in between could easily allow a
person to go through.
Hibari made himself at home, walking to his preferred out of the two benches
present and reclining on top of it, his arms pulled back and pillowing his
head. The older teen was staring up at the sky, strangely occasionally closing
his eyes and opening them. He realized he was still staring when Hibari's eyes
snapped to him and narrowed.
Breaking eye contact, Tsuna sat on the other bench, facing the edge. He settled
with watching the clouds pass and tried searching for the end of the never-
ending light cornflower blue that stretched above them.
He sat there for a long time. Hibari eventually falling asleep fast in his
position.
Apparently, Tsuna realized belatedly, that this area may be one of Hibari's
favorites napping spots. And he had brought Tsuna here. It was odd, but Tsuna
had an inkling of what Hibari was trying to do. Perhaps, he had wanted to share
the peaceful scenery with him. It was a strange thought, especially if it had
been done by Hibari intentionally. But it did give results. Even Tsuna realized
it.
He felt different up here. Like no one but him and Hibari were here in this
world. Like no one could hurt him, like Pietro could not reach him here.
For reasons he himself didn't quite understand, Tsuna stood up, and quietly
walked over to where Hibari slept. He slowly crouched down, one knee on the
dirt the other knee being hugged tightly by his arms. He knew he should not
risk waking up the other, for he knew just how horribly cranky the other could
be when awoken unannounced. He stared at this person, wondering how in the
world did he know how much Pietro had been bothering him, haunting him,
wondering how he knew exactly how to fix it.
Primitive instincts, Tsuna presumed, was Hibari's style. Perhaps this place
calmed Hibari down, and perhaps the other had figured it would help Tsuna
likewise calm down. It was working wonders, most definitely.
There was a stir of wind that flicked a strand of dark hair, throwing it across
the prefect's opposite cheek. It didn't belong there, and instinctively, Tsuna
reached out to pull it back in its original place. He did so, but his hand
stilled after. Tsuna brushed his finger tips against the pale cheek of the
older teen. Like butterfly wings, faintly.
He froze when he realized he was being watched. Hibari's pupils trained on him
before his eyelids slowly opened. Like a blooming flower. He flinched, starting
to retract his arm, oh so slowly. As if he wasn't just touching the other so
familiarly. He felt dread pile up in his chest, his heart heavy with shame at
being caught. He probably crossed some boundaries, crossed many boundaries,
hell, probably destroyed those boundaries. He wasn't sure if Hibari would want
him in his house now, after what he just did.
It was just common knowledge the other didn't like to be touched. And he was
just waiting for the tonfas to present themselves and beat him senseless.
But then something most strange happened. A pale hand, chasing slowly after his
own that was retracting until it caught it between warm fingers. Tsuna
stiffened, eyes wide as Hibari pulled his hand close. And start kneading it
with two hands.
What?
It was just confusion that took over, overbidding the embarrassment, as he
stared. Hibari was pulling at his fingers slowly, as if he hadn't seen fingers
before. He was closely examining it, with no emotion, no expression, just like
always. He didn't understand what the other was trying to do, why he was
studying his hand when he could study his own just the same.
Then an idea came to Tsuna. What if...what if Hibari hadn't touched anyone like
this before? Was that why he was so fascinated with Tsuna's hand and not his
own? Well that made two of them then. Before he knew it, he found himself
studying Hibari's hands as he studied his. It was so pale, but so broad
compared to his own. It looked and felt soft, even if Hibari did engaged in
more violent activities on a daily basis than he did in a week.
He let out a small huff of laughter. Because it was weird how he was using
flowers and butterflies as an analogy. Because now, the flower caught the
butterfly. He was entertaining the notion of a venus flytrap catching its
insect prey when he noticed Hibari had long abandoned the kneading and instead
stared at him. His head was turned completely to Tsuna, eyes unblinking. For a
moment, he thought Hibari was upset because he had been unwittingly laughing at
him and became equally bothered.
What was he staring at? He then realized, as his mouth relaxed, he had been
smiling.
He had been smiling. How long has it been since he smiled to himself, smiled
without pre-planning it—without faking it at all? He was just as enraptured by
the idea that he smiled again, stretching until it showed his teeth and he let
out another breathy laughing exhale.
Hibari did not laugh along, did not attempt to, but did not seem to be bothered
by it either. He looked pleased actually, or pleasantly surprised, whichever.
And it made Tsuna's smile stretch so far it hurt his cheeks.
He suddenly found himself thirsty. After that long walk and the easy effort in
being so happy, rewarding himself with a soda wouldn't be so bad. Or well,
juice or cold tea. He wasn't sure if he could still handle carbonated beverages
just yet. "Hibari-san," Tsuna said, smile still there, "I'm going to get us
some drinks." He remembered seeing a lone vending machine on that dirt road on
their way here.
Tsuna started standing up. This meant unintentionally breaking Hibari's hold on
him, their hands falling limp, as if at loss of what to do with them now. He
hadn't meant to do that, and he hoped the older teen wouldn't think he was
trying to flee when he really truly wasn't.
He stood for a moment, uncertain, but Hibari shooed him away. This seemed to
break whatever trail of thought Hibari had. Instantly, his expression returned
the its usual disgruntled and cranky countenance. "Do what you like."
Tsuna turned around, hurrying to get the drinks and return quickly. He pushed
the gate open, closing it gently behind himself, and walked across the shrine
grounds until he was met with stone stairs. It was a lot faster going downhill
than uphill, but he knew he wouldn't get lost. It was just a straight direction
down and up. It was nearly impossible to get careless in these parts.
He reached the vending machine, panting lightly as he fished out his wallet to
get some coins. There was no warning to it. No foreshadowing when suddenly, he
dropped a single coin. It's metal ring resounded loudly in the rustle of the
forestry around him. And his mind went back, to that night many moons ago when
large hands raked over his chest, tearing loose several buttons and sending
them flying, bouncing on the dirty ground of the alleyway like stones skipping
across a pond.
Before he knew it, the coins were falling out of his hands in musical clicking
patters to the pavement, his sanity was slipping through his fingers.
Tsuna's breathing came in short exhales and inhales, too short to be actually
functional in pulling in air. He falls to his knees, hands sliding down the
machine, sweaty palms running down the plastic. God what was happening to him?
Why couldn't he get over this? What more did he have to do? He was hit with the
desire to scream, vision erratic and darkening quick peripherally.
But then he saw it like a light in the dark. Bottle caps, wedged unluckily
between the vending machine and the ground. What a waste, was Tsuna's first
thought.
He didn't think as he reached out, but he did hesitate as his finger touched
the first one. He shouldn't, god, he shouldn't. There was a reason why Hibari
hid his first bottle cap not hid, he took it, that prying bastard he shouldn't
do it. God, he wanted help he wanted it so badly. But he couldn't get over the
looming pleasure after each time he cut, the euphoric feeling of being safe,
being in control. So Tsuna took the first bottle cap.
Then the second. Then the third. Then the fourth and fifth. It wouldn't hurt to
take them, it was just in case, after all. If he couldn't find the help he
wanted, then all he had to do was revert back to his old habits. He was fine
with them before, he hadn't complained or thought bad of it until lately. It
was fine if he returned back to his old routine, right? If the help wasn't
working.
He shoved all of them in his jacket pocket that didn't hold his wallet.
The new, barely there, weight at his stomach was a comfort, a back up plan,
yes. He worked at collecting the coins that dropped in his loss of control. But
now he had control. All six of it too.
Tsuna was safe.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: I'm a little unsatisfied by the fact that Kusakabe's appearance
     is in this chapter. I wish it was last chapter, but I suppose its too
     late to change it now. Thank you for all the support and
     encouragements!
After some moments of watching the sky and soaking in the sun, they left when
they finished their drinks. A milky melon for Tsuna and bitter tea for Hibari.
The sky was no longer blue, but taking on a shade mixed of red and purple. They
walked in comfortable silence now, and stayed an easy distance between them. He
starts to see the manor in the distance and as they increase proximity, Tsuna
stops when he realizes there someone at the gate's entrance.
Hibari stops too after three steps ahead and looks back to study Tsuna again.
There's a man, a man he recognized vaguely once before but he couldn't remember
in his dizzying fear. Hibari keeps walking though after a pause, and as afraid
as he was, Tsuna follows timidly behind. When they get close enough, Tsuna
realizes he does know this man. It's one of Hibari's followers, and if he was
correct, vice of the Disciplinary Committee. "Kusakabe." Hibari says.
"Kyou-san," Kusakabe greets back, bowing lowly. "I've already made dinner." The
pompadoured man sneaks a peek at Tsuna, who shrinks behind the little cover of
Hibari's back could provide.
"Good work." Hibari says.
The man, well he was their age, wasn't he? Even if he didn't look like one, the
teen looked greatly pleased at Hibari's praise however neutral and unfeeling it
sounded. Thankfully, the man seemed to sense the air around Tsuna and does not
address him directly. He seems to understand that most likely, Hibari did not
want him speaking to Tsuna either. "I've also fixed the rooms you requested.
I'll be back tomorrow, Kyou-san."
Hibari said nothing as he walked passed Kusakabe, Tsuna skittering nervously
behind, he glances fearfully at their new arrival. Kusakabe bowed as they
passed, and after they stepped through the gate the man turned his heel and
began walking downhill, where probably, Namimori rested. "Fixed dinner?" Tsuna
repeats, mostly to himself, and he's surprised by Hibari's automatic reply.
"I ordered him to."
There was a slight pause as comprehension hit him. "Hibari-san, you don't
cook?" It was strange, that he hadn't thought of this until now. He originally
believed it was Hibari fixing their meals but then he found that he couldn't
exactly imagine the prefect cooking.
"No." Was the curt reply, unabashedly.
Well it made sense now where the food was coming from. He had vaguely noticed
it was always saran wrapped when they walk into the kitchen. He had an idea it
was made before hand but he hadn't realized it was made from someone else.
They stepped through the sliding door, and sat together on raised floor, taking
off their shoes. After, they made their way to the kitchen and now Tsuna was
unsurprised by the saran wrapped food on the table. There was even a
thoughtfully given lightly filled tiramisu cupcake from a bakery he knew for
desert. Tsuna realized then that Hibari was ordering Kusakabe to make
specifically light foods just for him.
He wondered how much the prefect had disclosed to his subordinate. But knowing
him, Tsuna smiled into a bite, probably not much.
—
He smelled pretty bad, he admitted silently with great distaste. He discreetly
ran a hand through his hair and was grossed out by the oily feel in its usually
clean texture.
This was probably the longest he ever went without a shower, without the
necessary and almost catatonic need for a shower. It greatly disturbed him, how
different he was in this manor, how his habits seemed to disappear after
spending only two nights here. He had to get clean.
That was why there was no shame in asking Hibari if he could use his shower.
The prefect nodded, barely listening to him, as he focused on his food. Tsuna
got up first, excusing himself as he padded back to his room to collect his
sleeping wear and toiletries.
Tsuna stepped into his room, stripped off his jacket, and paused. With narrowed
eyes, he dug into his jacket's pocket, and fished out the six bottle caps. It
was a pretty big handful, and they were slightly dirty from spending so long
under that vending machine, but it was nothing a little water couldn't fix.
He considered in bringing all of them with him, but he knew he couldn't, one at
a time would be enough. It would be just disastrous if he ran into Hibari in
the hall holding six bottle caps.
He kneeled at the edge of a low table, spilling the bottle caps on its surface.
He watched with morbid fascination as they rolled around, eventually slowing
with topples with a spin until they fell silent and still.
They looked so innocent, and any other person would've have guess Tsuna liked
to collect bottle caps as a hobby. Their first thought would never be that
Tsuna would use them for more sinful purposes. He wasn't even sure if it was
even considered a sin to hurt one's own person. Perhaps it was, perhaps it was
so inhuman it could not even be labeled as a sin but as a monstrous disorder:
an affliction, an ailment, a disease.
An indelible stain he could not wash. A corrupt mistake he could not erase or
shroud.
He chose the dirtiest one, a lime green beer bottle cap. Only because the need
to be clean was simply overpowering in its intensity that he felt he needed to
clean everything. He held it tightly in one hand as his free arm held his
clothes and his pack of toiletries as he opened and closed his door behind him.
His bare feet padded against the wooden floorboards lightly as he made his way
to Hibari's room.
When he stepped into the bathroom, everything seemed to look at him accusingly.
Suddenly he felt sick. The walls, the shower, the mirror that showed his
horrified expression. He had been here earlier, vowing to change his ways. And
yet here he stood, fist gripping another, new, bottle cap to further dig his
grave deeper. But Tsuna scrambled to the shower, suddenly needing to be clean
more than ever, and turned it as hot as it could go.
He took his clothing off violently, tearing it off and away. He threw his shirt
against the wall, as if to shut the wall's silent accusations up. He watched as
his shirt slid down, hit the floor in a soft rumple. He breathed through
gritted teeth, air sliding in and out between the gaps of his bottom dentition.
He stripped until he was bare.
He grimaced at his reflection when the color of his exposed flesh caught his
eye. A large light brown bruise at his right hip, nearly four inches. The
largest one was at the back of his thigh, below the bandages, reaching five and
a half inches long. He stared at it through dulled eyes. It had a familiar
shape, a hand, to it, though it became somewhat unrecognizable through time. If
it hadn't been on the back of his left thigh then people wouldn't think it was
a hand-print.
If someone saw this...they would definitely connect the dots just based on its
nearly abstract shape and its location.
Dear god, even if most of the bruises had faded away with time, the most
prominent ones haven't. He once read a the most a contusion could last was six
months. Has it really only been four? He just wanted it gone, he just wanted to
forget.
He frustratedly gripped his thigh with both hands, squeezing hard, as if pain
would make it go away. Maybe it could, the dark part of himself whispered
seductively, and you won't regret it. He knew it was right. Tsuna looked to the
green bottle cap on the sink's counter and held it in a fist, squeezing hard.
So without a hint of hesitation, Tsuna stumbled into the hot spray, catching
himself on the slippery tiles. But it was useless anyway, and he slowly slid to
his knees, purposefully. He at least had the sense to take a moment to rub at
the dirt on the cap. He did so meticulously, eyes sharp in concentration as he
took pleasure in watching the dirt slowly stream into the drain.
He sat on the haunches of his heels, knees on the shower's floor as he put the
cap to his hip. Unmarred by any destruction but the dark bruise, the proof of
the night he became a monster.
Routine. This was routine. He pressed, breaking the skin. Then rolled. The red
bloomed quickly, if not more quickly than usual, and he watched with morbid
fascination as the red turned pink, turning opaque as it was swept up by water
and disappear into the darkness of the pipes.
But then, something unexpected happened. Tsuna's eyes went wide as the bathroom
door slammed open. Immediately, he froze over, his ears pumping loudly to the
point where he couldn't hear much, not even the sound of the water beating
against his body.
There was socked footsteps.
And the curtain was pulled roughly back, exposing Tsuna to the world.
Tsuna stared, eyes as wide as they could ever go, at Hibari. It really didn't
take much thought to realize that Hibari was very angry. Why? Did he do
something wrong? Did he hate Tsuna now? But then he noticed them. In Hibari's
hands were five bottle caps. Five bottle caps he had left on the table. Oh god,
did he really just leave them there? How could he be so careless?
This was why Hibari was angry. He couldn't blame him. Tsuna would be angry at
himself. He himself would feel so betrayed, feel tricked by believing that
Tsuna wanted to be better, wanted to be human again. Hibari had trusted him,
even brought him to a place that had to be somewhat important to him, and Tsuna
had only abused that trust. Had torn it to shreds by wanting control, giving in
temptation the bottle caps emitted.
Did he hate him now? Did he think he was disgusting, finally? Were the thoughts
spinning through his head, and in quick milliseconds he weighed the
possibility, turned the circumstances over in his head repeatedly. He would
hate himself. He could understand why Hibari hated him now. But his heart
betrayed him, silently whispering, but I don't want him to hate me. He didn't
think he could bear it-the one person who accepted him, hating him.
This rage, this fury, the fear, it frightened him so bad that Tsuna made three
mistakes simultaneously.
First he stood up and in his haste, the bottle cap fell to the shower floor,
clattering almost quietly in the hot spray. And realizing that he was exposing
his naked form, and the most recent excursion—running red down the side of his
body, Tsuna spun around to face the tiles to hide both. And last, was the worst
thing he could've possibly done.
The hand-print, branded for all to see. His desperate need to cover up his
naked body had affected his rational thought.
Hibari sucked in a sharp intake of breath at the sight, when the taller teen
recognized it for what it was after two seconds. Tsuna realized only too late
of his mistake, his forehead pushing into the tiles with utter despair, his
mouth open in a silent horror. No. No!
Tsuna got Hibari wet as his arm shot out, throwing water everywhere, reaching
for the towel next to the prefect. The towel rack toppled over as he ripped it
to him, the metal rods of it hitting the tiled floor loudly. He was left
covering his body with a despondency of a drowning man. "How did you get in?"
Tsuna asked, hearing the detachment of his own voice, like it wasn't him
talking. Hibari's fury had long faded now, and only shock seemed to take
permanent resident in his features.
"The lock has always been broken." Was Hibari's reply after a delay, "I have
never bothered to fix it, for I did not need it before." Of course Hibari
didn't need it, unlike Tsuna, he could stop a man from taking him. Of course.
Any normal person could. He did recall the teen being able to enter that other
time too, when Tsuna had been so sure he had locked it. He should have known
better than to use this bathroom again.
There was strained silence. And the only sounds in the room were the running
water, and Tsuna's wane breathing.
Tsuna had to think. And think fast.
"What was that?" Hibari asked with a look of frustration when he realized that
Tsuna was going to forever stay stubbornly quiet. They both knew what he was
talking about without further explanation. That hand-print at his thigh. It
couldn't be, could it? Hibari seemed to be at completely loss for words, unsure
of how to approach this. "Did—this was the small thing? This is what you've
been hiding? This—"
"Is nothing." Tsuna said to Hibari's face, unable to listen anymore. The
prefect was rendered into astonished silence, as Tsuna said more clearly, "I
hid it because it is nothing. There's no special reason behind it, it's
nothing." It was far from nothing. It was everything to Tsuna, and that was why
he must absolutely tell no one. He mustn't forget. That no matter how bad his
physical appearance was, it was significantly pale in comparison to the fact
that he was unable to stop a man from doing those things to him.
If they knew, they would leave. They would leave him. That was why to Tsuna
now, it was nothing.
He has never been a good liar but he's had practice. Tons of it. On an almost
daily basis. But he knew that his perfect bluff failed after a pause. Hibari's
expression immediately turned murderous, for no one lied to him so blatantly
and lived to breathe afterwards. He was ready to spit fire back, but Tsuna's
tirade didn't take a pause to allow intermission, "It's nothing, Hibari-san,
it's nothing, just listen," Tsuna gripped the towel harder, "I have nothing."
Tsuna realized how true this was after the words came out themselves.
Why was he even here? Did he benefit Hibari in a way? But he had nothing of
value, nothing left of himself to give. Nothing useful in his body to share. It
was bestialized to the point of infertility, inside and out. There was nothing
inside him, and it hurt him so much to admit this now, for he had denied it for
so long, because he wished otherwise, always longed for purpose.
And now, he realized he had nothing.
The eerily calm courage he had for a short period of time was fading quickly,
and he was left a panicked mess of quivering fear inside. He couldn't let
Hibari question it further, for Tsuna knew that he would not have an actual
lie, an actual fake explanation to why the hell there was a man's hand print on
his thigh. If Tsuna wanted everyone to stay, this had to wrap up. He had to
leave it here and be done with it.
"Just leave, Hibari-san, it's nothing, really." Despite his words, he left
first, only because he knew Hibari wasn't going to go anywhere of course, this
was his house: he was the intruder here. And partly because he could not stand
another minute naked with another in the room.
Tsuna pushed himself out of the shower, stumbling soaking wet and dripping
loose water everywhere. He scrambled for his clothes, breathing in hitches as
he ran out as fast as he could, pulling his pants and shirt on. It stuck
uncomfortably to his wet skin, now cold as sweat overpowered the perspiration
on his skin. He barreled through the hallway, feet still haphazardly wet as his
slipped and slid on the wooden floorboards.
Out. He had to get out. He knew, he was sure of it. He knew.
But Tsuna would not hear him acknowledge it. He would not stand there and
listen to Hibari say he knew, break effortlessly through the barriers he spent
so long meticulously building.
He was never going to come back. And god help him, he never wished to see
Hibari ever again.
Tsuna slipped on his sneakers as fast as he could, blood pumping fast. When
he's out the door and out those gates, he sprints uphill. It was dark outside
and the night air does nothing cool his feverish state down. He nearly falls
over as he turns, dust throwing up in the air as he skids. There's a tight,
achy feeling resounding in his chest.
What has he done? Now, there would be no one, the was no one that could replace
Hibari, no one who who would put up with him. And he felt helpless, and very
much alone. So alone in this trail in the dark. Except the misery that kept him
company, it always did.
The aching feeling in his chest gets worse as he meets the stairs, and he
climbs them without pause in his mad run. But as the achy feeling turns
painful, he realizes what it actually is, not overwhelming despair, not a
heartache—but an attack. The word shoots a warning flare through the shambles
of his sanity. It's firey hot blaze dims after he disregards it.
Tsuna's breath comes quicker as he's struck with horrible fear. His fingers and
toes begin tingling with each pounding step and familiar black spots begin to
gather at the corners of his vision, making the world even darker than the
night is suppose to be.
He knuckles his chest roughly, almost punching his own sternum, trying to ease
the pain with physical pain.
He tries to breath in slowly, but in his run, it's near impossible. A stab of
pain sliced through his chest, sending a wave of sickness all the way down to
his stomach and his inner organs. There is a couple of long agonizing seconds
during which his vision narrows to nearly a pinprick, and all he can hear is
the staccato thud of his heartbeat in his ears. But thankfully, the sensation
eases enough for him to realize he's finally at the top of the stone steps.
When he reaches his destination, he gasps quietly for air, but the breathing
doesn't ease up and he's hit by a nauseating pulse of vertigo, strong enough to
send him reeling into the gate that separated him from the clearing. His hands,
slick with sweat and half-numb, slip and slide, unfeelingly and they manage to
pull the gate open in his fumbling.
He's seeing red through the blackness, and he knows by the warm wet fluid
running down his face, it's not just tears brought on by the numbing pain. It's
blood. But it wasn't like the nosebleed before, that one he didn't noticed
until he saw it. This one, this, it hurt. Red was painting itself everywhere,
crowding along with the black spots in his eyes. His head was pounding, his
world spinning.
God was he going to die?
It was never this bad before.
He stumbles across the clearing, but he does not sit on either of the two
benches. How could he sit on the one memory that made him laugh this same day,
that one memory that made him smile so effortlessly? It made him so happy,
being with the one who could stand him, who took care of him, even if he was
not Hibari's to take care of. He dared not sit on it, for in his state now, he
did not deserve to.
Unlike earlier, there were no trace of light cornflower blue now. There were no
stars, clouds, or even the moon. It was just inky blackness, as if he was
staring at a black-painted wall. In this world, there was no sky.
But he stumbled blindly onto something wooden, wide and large, and he realized,
with wide eyes what it was. The stake. The one that kept hikers from falling
over the edge. It only seemed for be functional for a warning only. He was
rather lucky he had ran into this instead of just walking off the edge
unknowingly. As the gap between the wooden posts were wide enough, and could
easily allow anyone to slip through it, if they wanted to: if willing.
Deciding to test it, he put both of his hands on the wooden posts, standing
between them, palms flat on the moist moss.
Tsuna stared at the bottomless dark over the cliff, hearing empty wind in his
ears, and a single thought struck him like lightning: it would be instant
death.
Three steps, was all it took.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: This chapter is split into two POVs, first Hibari then back to
     Tsuna for the rest of it. Holy crap Tsuna's monologue here is
     hodgepodging long.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
His eyes were fixated on Tsunayoshi's abdomen and he registered slowly that the
other had long since reached past him to wrench at the towel on the rack. He
was sprayed lightly with water, still warm from the others own skin, but Hibari
felt nothing, couldn't see anything. The metal rack topples over, but neither
occupants in the bathroom cared much of it.
He never felt so...completely at loss on what to do. It was highly unlike him.
Hibari was used to being in control, knowing his next move and testing his
opponent's predictability. But he found himself numb, still, unable to argue,
he didn't know how to, when Tsunayoshi insists it's nothing.
How could it be nothing? He wants to retort, mind racing in an angry tandem,
there was just no mistaking the way that hand-print was angled, the darkness of
the bruise and its provocative location. Tsunayoshi had been hiding it for a
very long time, but the most a blemish like that could last was six months.
Fortunately or unfortunately, he didn't last long concealing it until then.
But then after a tense silence, Tsunayoshi pushes himself out of the shower,
not even bothering on shutting off the water. The towel is clutched desperately
to his chest, but it does not hide the flow of red that trailed lucidly down
Tsuna's leg.
So that was why, as Tsunayoshi's breathing hitches in erratic cadences, and
when the boy pulls on his clothes and runs out: Hibari does not follow him. Out
of pride, out of helplessness. He doesn't know.
The prefect only stares unseeingly at the running water of the shower, the hot
spray hitting him just slightly as he stood at the tub's edge. He feels himself
getting wet, but he honestly finds himself not caring. So he had done it again,
Hibari thinks, staring at the bottle cap on the shower's floor. He couldn't
even stop the reckless herbivore from making further mistakes.
He had failed again. Worse even, this wasn't the first time he's failed.
This what annoyed Hibari the most: the failure. He tries and tries to help
Tsunayoshi, but in the end, both the herbivore and even himself come out empty,
not matter what resorts he goes to. Hibari has already tried all he can:
feeding him, taking him in as disciplinary assistant, followed him to school,
bringing him in his house, any means to keep a close eye on the other teen. But
still, after all these extremes, he comes out unsuccessful and finds himself
deeper into this spiraling loop.
Hibari remembered when this odd behavior started. One day, the herbivore came
to school...odd in a way he couldn't explain. He had found him, followed him to
the back of the school where he saw him crouched with his head in his hands
between the iron ventilation. He had only meant the herbivore to get lost, to
get back to class, possibly biting him to death if his demand didn't come easy.
But then, that scream, that scream that left such an impression, had never once
left him.
So now he understood why though: why Tsunayoshi always edged away from others,
why he sometimes looked deathly afraid of people standing too close or speaking
too loud. Why he was so afraid of Hibari at times.
It must've been a man, it had to be, that made that mark. He couldn't recall
Tsuna being afraid of that Sasagawa Kyoko or the infant. The infant had to had
notice, the two lived together, correct?
Tsunayoshi always thought he was sly, and he was, but Hibari was a naturally
observant person. He could see why most people didn't notice the very small
change.
Hibari quietly recalled that day he asked the infant if Tsunayoshi could stay
at his house. No one disturbs us, was Hibari's additional request, and the baby
was certainly curious, but allowed it because the situation intrigued him. But
Hibari made sure there would be no prying eyes at his estate. But why did he do
that? What did he have to gain for it? Originally, it had only been because he
himself was curious of the herbivore's attitude change and his new secrecy, but
now as he realized his attachment was burrowing deeper, he now he wasn't so
sure.
The prefect briefly wondered if he hadn't chose to follow Tsunayoshi, hadn't
decide to call his name at that day, where would they be now? He shakes his
head, mutely horrified at himself. It wasn't like him to think of the what ifs,
it was horrendously out of his character and it irritated him.
But then again, he hasn't been himself in so long. In a span of weeks, months,
days, Hibari found emotions he hadn't brought up springing up like weeds in the
vast, neatly trimmed garden of his mind. He's never been so angry, worried,
pleased, even happy, in such short time. He's horribly unused to it, the
sensations feeling alien to him.
Hibari wants order back. He wants to be in control again, take the reins of his
life back into his hands. But it's too late, he 's unable to turn back now.
He's already too far deep into this matter that he could not find it in himself
to surrender, to give up.
The bottle caps have long since fell in their scuffle, the dirty caps scattered
at his feet. They looked so innocent in his eyes, and they never held much
meaning in his life until recently. They never held such an ominous
significance.
Hibari snapped out of his reverie in time to hear the front gate slamming
closed.
And then, the irritating worry hit him again.
Cursing silently, Hibari turned heel, leaving the bottle caps and shower on. He
fretted disgustingly for a moment. The herbivore, where was he going? He was
soaking wet, surely cold on this chilly November night. He briefly recalled the
blood running down the other's side. He hadn't treated it like he always did.
It may not be sterile. Those accursed bottle caps, Hibari thought viciously as
he saw the front door wide open.
Hibari slipped on his loafers quickly, running at top speed out the door, but
didn't bother closing the gate behind him. He paused to listen for Tsunayoshi's
own footsteps in a blood pumping moment. Uphill. The herbivore was going
uphill. Slightly relieved the other wasn't planning on going downhill back to
town, he ran up turning with a sharp right.
The other had a good head start, but Hibari has always been the better runner.
He pushed his legs to go faster when seeing Tsuna reach at the top of the
stairs with great irritation. Where the hell did the little animal think he's
going? He was in no state to be running around in the damn night.
Hibari literally skipped three steps at a time, his breath actually stretching
between each intake in effort. He never tried running up these stairs, never
had the need to. But it's no news. He's been doing a lot of stuff he didn't
need to lately. When Hibari reaches the very top step, he notices the gate to
his clearing is wide open.
Good, Hibari thought with reluctant relief, at least the herbivore reached a
dead end.
He took his time walking across the shrine grounds, and walks through the
gates, eyes scanning the clearing for Tsunayoshi.
And then he sees him. Hibari freezes, eyes wide. Tsuna was at the edge,
standing between the wooden posts of the cliff. His palms were flat on either
of the moss-covered wood.
He opens his mouth, readying to yell at Tsunayoshi, a flush of anger rushing
through him. Get away from the cliff, he wants to say aloud in a fit of temper,
you idiot, you'll drop. But then a single thought strikes Hibari like lighting.
He wasn't thinking of...no.
This was intentional: he was going to jump.
He finds himself unable to speak, unable to make sudden movements, for if he
distracts the other just a tiny bit, Hibari may be the reason why the other
falls. Then act fast, his mind argues with him, grab him! But he can't, because
he finds himself incapable of moving. He felt more lost than Tsunayoshi
probably felt. And he could do nothing as Tsuna stares into the dark, not even
noticing he was there.
He never did, did he? Never tried to. In the end, it was always Hibari who was
shoving his way into his business. And because of this, he would be the one to
witness his last seconds as result.
—
Three steps, could end it all.
Tsuna's vision darkened around the edges. His head, blocking everything, had
shut off, or maybe time had stopped. It actually didn't matter either way. What
made his vision shrink, his whole body go numb in a second was that without any
hesitation he was honestly considering walking off those innocent edges.
Tsuna mulled over this decision, this sudden change. He was truly considering
this a chance to run away. Running away from the seemingly insurmountable
problems that faced him. The cutting was becoming more of an obsession than an
actual need; he couldn't seem to sleep properly, either too much to very
little. He was also always hungry, and most times he tried to eat to satiate
himself, he'd end up struggling to keep it all in for another day.
And the showers. Oh god, those showers that he spent scrubbing himself raw and
angry just so he could lose the feeling of big hands touching the temple that
was his body.
If he chose to do this, he would no longer have to spend everyday the rest of
his life in a farce. He would never feel the hunger, the filth, the fear ever
again. He could go to a place where no one would see him, no eyes could have
the leisure of prying or taking. He could go to a place Pietro could not reach
him.
The sensations called hearing and feeling were gone, shoved out of the way by
an idea, a single single idea that could change everything. The colors seemed
to become acrid, like the image in his eyes had been sharpened. Everything felt
and looked two dimensional, like it was just him and that cliff, and nothing
else.
He took one step forward, conflicted, the wooden fences on either side like a
balustrade leading to the edge.
Even if he changed his mind, there's no way he could scramble up the sides of
the cliff with all that slippery moss on the sides. He would not be able to
save his life in the last second. His hands would just slide right off as the
rest of his body was battered on the way down. It would be final, the ultimate
in final decisions, with no chance of surviving the fall.
Two steps, that was all.
He considered this for a moment in disorientating terror. Would it hurt? Would
it be quick enough for him not to feel anything? With his luck, he was sure it
wouldn't. It'd be unbelievably painful, he didn't doubt it. For if one fell
this high, not only would it leave a great mess, he would surely be ripped
apart by the rocks and eventually torn to shreds by the trees below. And if
those two didn't work, he'd split in half upon contact with the ground.
Carefully – still very aware of the permanent outcomes of the decision he now
knew he could make, Tsuna craned his neck, looking over the edge. A breath
caught in his throat. That would be a long fall. The fear of that height
further weakened his body, forcing him to wilt slightly in his stand. His
stomach felt like a pile of lead, but no gagging or heaving came. His vision
lost a little focus as his breath became short, quick, hooking in his throat
and racing to keep up with his brain.
He took half a step back.
He was confusing himself, wondering why he was so willing to throw himself
voluntarily into pain when he was so deathly afraid of it. Perhaps it was by
his own hand that made it different, made it special. But this could be it.
This was the final chapter of Sawada Tsunayoshi. That pitiful creature that
lived feeding off the happiness of others for he was unable to obtain it by his
own power. He thought of spending the rest of his life like that and he
shuddered violently, blanching.
He took a step and a half forward.
One step, could end it all.
Tsuna thought about how this one step could change his life, but oh, silly him,
he wouldn't have a life to change. But wasn't that the point? He wondered why
this train of thought was so easy to come. Why he did nothing to stop it. Why
suddenly, his life seemed to be worth nothing to him.
His thoughts were becoming duller, slowed, as his brain focused on one tempting
idea: will you drop it all and leave now?
But then, as he took that half step forward, Tsuna was hit with a overpowering
wave. It crashed over him, choking him with despair. A wave of why he shouldn't
take that one more half step. Suddenly, roaring in his head came a voice. A
voice that echoed and screamed out to the edge, like a shield to a monster's
jaws.
It screamed: no! NO!
He couldn't deny, couldn't pretend that he didn't notice the welts on his legs,
all in various stages of healing. It was true that he kept up a facade, a lie,
all day, everyday to merely function in society just so he wouldn't rouse
suspicion. He was so scared of people, he had become distrustful of the nicest
of strangers, wondering if they would take him too if given the chance and
circumstance. He was so sure he had hurt everyone he knew in varying degrees,
affecting them even if they had no clue of the truth.
His mother. Reborn. Gokudera and Yamamoto. Why was he doing this? How could he
even think of leaving them? How could he be so selfish?
Tsuna looks at the darkness, suddenly afraid of it. He welcomed it only seconds
before, but that was only because he had forgotten about his reasons. Why he
needed to live. But he could not step back, he could not do it himself. His
legs were suddenly jelly, suddenly immobile. He couldn't remember how to use
them.
"Someone..." He said to the night, "Please..."
Someone, anyone. Just please, help him. Tsuna can't do this alone, he doesn't
have the strength anymore. He's not sure if he could really resist. Was there
anyone out there? Was there anyone who could stop him from making the greatest
mistake a human could make?
He didn't know what made him look back, but never in his life he was so glad
that he did.
Hibari was standing there at the gate's entrance. Frozen himself, eyes
unfocused and staring at him. He only stared back, his own eyes wide and
petrified. He realized, perhaps belatedly, that the other teen had been
standing there the entire time, watching him readying to fall to his death.
Hibari hadn't tried to call out to him, hadn't tried to grab him, afraid that
one wrong move and Tsuna would drop like a rock if distracted.
He didn't want to die, he realized at that moment.
Tsuna didn't want his life to end here, end just like that, so casually.
He didn't want to die by his own hand.
He suddenly didn't care if Pietro was still in this world. He didn't care if
that man was just around the corner ready to push him off the edge himself. He
didn't hate this world, he didn't hate it at all. He shouldn't go. Tsuna was
not going to die, not going to throw away his life over something this stupid
and irrelevant to his values.
The darkness loomed behind him, its claws readying to dig into his skin,
readying to drag him into its embrace and throw him into oblivion, to the easy
way out. It was whispering in his ear, jump. Tsuna shook his head wildly in
refusal.
Wide eyed, he whispered brokenly, "Help...help."
Hibari slowly moves then at Tsuna's call, and he inches forward, hands out,
step by step. When he reaches past the benches, Tsuna's knees are shaking so
bad, he feels that he really is going to fall, really is going to be taken
away. He was going to die, without a fight. He wobbles.
Hibari leaps across the remaining space between them.
Tsuna cries weakly, his knees are bucking now but then a warm very welcomed arm
reaches around his torso and drags him away.
It pulls him away from the darkness, away from that edge.
He suddenly finds himself in a horizontal position, and he gasps as a crushing
weight settles itself on Tsuna's chest. It constricts him tightly, as if to
show he can't escape. He doesn't think he wants to. When his head clears, he
realizes that he's laying on the bench. Hibari is to his left, and his arm is
held across Tsuna.
Through the crippled shambles of his mind, Tsuna realizes it was ironic how he
was the one to be laying down on this same bench now, ironic how Hibari was the
one to kneel at his side. The switch in position would have been entertaining
any other time, but he was unable to smile, unable to laugh just as he did that
afternoon.
His hand automatically reaches to Hibari, reaching for life, and touches his
shoulder with stiff, unfeeling fingers weakly.
He only mimicked Hibari's earlier move, his cheek pushing against the wood so
he could gaze sideways at the older teen next to him. "I'm sorry," He says, or
whispers he doesn't really know, feeling warm water drip from his eyes,
trailing down his cheek, over his nose and fall quietly onto the bench, "I'm so
sorry."
The older teen does not say anything in reply, for Hibari's face is pushed into
Tsuna's neck. He wonders briefly what expression he's making now. Angry or not,
he finds that this is better than that darkness. "If you are truly sorry,"
Hibari says into his neck, voice neutral, "Then tell me why. All of it."
Why did you hide? Why did you almost jump? Why do you insist on continuing
these unhealthy imbecilic reckless obscenities? All of it. The other was
agitated, and he knew it was only human. Ha. Only human. But of course the
other was agitated because Tsuna almost just killed himself.
Tsuna is quiet for a moment.
This was a pivotal part of his life, he thinks dully. This was exactly what he
was so afraid of, prying questions, seeking answers. After so many weeks of
hiding and concealing, he should've been terrified. He should have been
aggressively evasive. He probably would've fought if that meant getting out
from this corner he was backed into. But he found no such emotions in him. And
Tsuna realized he wanted to tell someone, wanted someone to know.
It wasn't as if he was trying to push his problems onto Hibari, wasn't as if he
was trying to share the immense pain with him, he just simply wanted someone to
know. Regardless if Hibari told his mom, told Reborn or his friends. Somehow,
it didn't matter anymore and he wondered why it had worried him so much
earlier. His voice came out defeated, his pride swollen and too tired to keep
getting back up,
"I will. I'll tell you all of it." He promises.
Hibari raises his face to stare at Tsuna, and hes slightly embarrassed that
their faces are so close. But Hibari does not show any discomfort at the close
proximity, most surprisingly. He was just about to open his mouth, ready to
spill his most darkest secret to this person when the prefect cuts him off
before a syllable could be said, "Blood."
He is momentarily confused by such a random comment that he does not understand
what the other was speaking about until a pale hand reached up to rub with soft
thumb at the area between his upper lip and his nostrils. Oh.
They stay there for a moment before embarrassment hits tenfold. He slowly hits
up, causing Hibari to move away just as well. The taller teen stares at Tsuna
for a moment, deducting what's happened to Tsuna. Hibari says nothing as he
pulls Tsuna up from the bench, motioning him to lean on him. He's grateful,
because the attack was very intense and partially incapacitated him.
They walk slowly back home, Hibari with him at each step.
—
Tsuna gathers his courage as they trudge together to the bathroom. Funny, how
they're heading back to the place that has changed him each time he went in
there. He wondered if he was going to change again now.
He could hear the shower still running. He felt slightly guilty, of all things,
that they had wasted so much water because of him. They crossed the threshold,
Tsuna stepping haphazardly on his own pants leg, but Hibari has a hold on him
and he doesn't take a spill to the floor. He grimaces as he sees himself in the
mirror again.
He's still damp, his clothes sticking cold uncomfortably to his clammy skin.
His hair laid limp on his head, flopping onto his eyes, still not dry and
chillingly soaked. He's pale, paler than he ever remembered, from the rush of
blood up and down to his head. There's so much dirt on him, when had he fell?
He didn't remember. But brown earth caked the left side of his body, trailing
from his ankle to his shoulder. His hands were rubbed green from the moss.
Worse was the blood. There was a huge browned red stain on his opposite hip,
from the cut that hadn't been treated. It had been sluggishly leaking out,
unbeknownst to him. His face was smeared with blood too, drying in sticky
crackles across his cheek and upper lip.
He looked really, really bad. It was no wonder Hibari had been so shocked when
he caught sight of him. But for some reason, the sight of his dirtiness should
have put him into a state of panic. He was so dirty, but he found himself
almost amused by his appearance. The only thing he did find regretful was the
blood. Otherwise, he might have laughed at his own reflection. If it had been
another time, if he hadn't known the reason why he was like this too.
Tsuna wanted a shower, good lord, he couldn't remember the last time he felt so
dirty. But he didn't require cleanliness on that obsessive level to his
surprise. But instead, Hibari sat him on the toilet seat and motioned him to
roll down his pants. Tsuna only did part way, just enough to reveal his marred
hip.
He had to look away. It was dark with the bruise, but the red flowed from
something he did. Hibari's eyes darkened, to his nervousness, but the older
teen reached under the sink for some aid. Hibari first took a hand towel and
held it under the surprisingly still hot spray of the shower. The teen took a
moment to wash away the blood and rub disinfectant with it. He did not use
gauze, but a very large adhesive bandage. It was as wide as his palm.
Hibari stuck that on his hip, fingers lingered slightly as he looked up at
Tsuna in contemplation. He was wondering if he wanted to know about Pietro now,
but then, "Shower." Was the command that came and he found himself immediately
complying.
He stripped himself of his shirt, and let it drop uncertainly to the floor. He
looked up in time to see Hibari collecting the bottle caps from the floor. He
looked back to the floor ashamedly. But he glanced back up when he realized
Hibari waved for his attention. The taller teen held one up, pinched between
his index finger and his thumb, "These." He shook the lime green one once, "Are
restricted. I do not want to see you with them again, do you understand?"
He nodded shakily, eyes wide and watery.
Hibari did not praise or acknowledged his instant reply, instead turning around
to stare at the door so he could give Tsuna some semblance of privacy in this
small bathroom. It seemed he wasn't quite ready to leave the other alone. He
was fine with that. He sort of deserved it. He hesitantly stripped off his
sweatpants, dropping them next to his shirt and climbed with difficulty over
the tub's edge. Tsuna closed the curtain behind him with uncertain jerks. He
stood in the shower, tears quietly mingling with the water.
He focused rubbing the dirt off and tried hard to suppress his upset hiccups to
himself. He squeezed a decent amount of soap in his palm and began working at
his hair. He scrubbed his face hard, trying to rid it off the blood. When he
was done, he shut off the shower and stood there uncertainly for a moment. He
didn't really want to step out there naked, he wasn't quite ready to reveal his
body again.
There was movement at the curtain's end and Tsuna jumped as a pale hand reached
in and held a towel out for him.
He took it gently from Hibari and dried himself. He breathed in and then out
slowly, collecting some sensibility, securing the towel over his shoulders and
pulled the curtain back. Hibari was leaning against the porcelain counter,
pointedly looking away. There were clothes folded neatly on top of the now-
upturned towel rack. Hibari was quite good at being silent whenever he comes
and goes, because those hadn't been there before.
It took a small struggle in getting out the tub, for his new bandage
constricted him just slightly. He pulled the clothes on, realizing they were
not his own with a start, but Hibari's. It was a very standard gray pajamas,
ones with buttons and folded up ends.
When he was finished, he hesitantly glanced up at Hibari, and when he met his
piercing gaze, his own fell back to the floor.
Hibari opened the door and waited expectantly until he began to follow.
He realized they were in the kitchen as the floorboards changed and moved to
sit in his customary seat across from the other. The gunmetal-haired teen did
not sit down after Tsuna however, and worked heating up a kettle. Tea, he
realized, and Tsuna know this was it. Tea meant sitting down and drinking. That
meant it was time to explain himself.
He breathed in and out slowly again, watching the other with utmost polite
attention.
But Hibari seemed to have trouble with the stove. The taller teen didn't seem
to understand what to do with it, and hadn't had the slightest clue on how to
turn it on. He decided to help, because he knew that Hibari was only to
prideful to ask himself. Tsuna got up, walking to stand side by side with the
other.
And he realized, with a small shake of his head and a sadly amused smile, that
he didn't know how to use this stove either. He wasn't called dame-Tsuna for
nothing. He wasn't sure that they'd actually succeed on turning on the stove
themselves without burning the estate down.
Hibari and him shared a look and went back to the table, abandoning the kettle.
They sat across from each other, Hibari staring without blinking at Tsuna. He
nervously clasped and re-claspsed his hands. He had no clue what he was
supposed to do, where to start. There was no manual or guide on what to do
after a emotionally tumultuous near-suicide.
"Talk." The single word wasn't angry or even demanding. It was simply final,
with no room for Tsuna to evade – not that he had ever been able to evade
Hibari anyway.
Right. He had to speak, didn't he? He promised. "I think you want me to start
from the beginning?" Tsuna asked uncertainly and inhaled slowly as Hibari
nodded mutely.
"It was I think four months ago..." Tsuna stared at the hand in his lap. "I
went out to eat dinner by myself. My mom was sleeping and I thought I'd get
some food for her when she woke up." His mind went back, that night where he
had innocently stepped out of his house, worrying over what his friends growing
tired of him. It had been such a trivial thought at the time. "I was picky that
night. I'm not sure why, but eventually I sort of grew tired and went in the
first restaurant that came up."
Tsuna swallowed thickly, eyes closing, "I ate there. I should have took the
food to go, but I didn't. Then..." He uncertainly stalled to think. Thinking
about it and saying it aloud were two completely different things, "My body
started feeling strange. I began to lose comprehension of my surroundings."
He remembered the thoughtless actions, the careless laughter with those
strangers. "It was like I was intoxicated, even though I didn't consume any
alcohol."
Now that he said it, it really did go like that. He hadn't realized, or didn't
try to, think of why he was like that. Was it truly because he was drunk? But
how was that possible when he was sure that none of the foods he ate could
incapacitate him to that extent? "And you didn't find this strange." Hibari
said, crossing his arms.
"I didn't care," Tsuna agreed, "Because I was having fun. There were people I
didn't know...older people." He remembered being pulled by the arm, away from
the crowd, "There was a man..."
It was getting hard to continue.
"A man...took me to an alleyway..." Air suddenly seemed to be having trouble
getting into his lungs, as though he was trying to breathe through a pile of
blankets. He was being smothered. His ears were ringing. The ins and outs, the
pain pain pain, the rough gravel beneath him and the crushing pressure above
him. "He -, did,..."
If Tsuna continued this conversation, things were going to change. Even though
he would not be asking for help, for the first time in his life, he would be
asking someone else for answers. Reaching out. The significance was earth-
shaking to him. "I, I can't say any more." He finished, Tsuna's shoulders
slumped and his head fell toward his chest in defeat.
"Do you recall his appearance." Hibari asked more in a sentence than an inquiry
and his voice stayed carefully unbiased. There was something that couldn't be
completely concealed behind that question. Something like...anger bubbling
beneath its surface. It made him nervous.
The gears in his head were slow to turn, but they eventually started as he
pursued the train of thought he'd begun.
Dear god.
What did Pietro look like?
All this time, he had only been focusing on the unimaginable pain and the
sensations of the event but he hadn't made a single thought of what the man
looked like. He was blanking out, eyes staring holes on the table top. "I...I
can't—" He tried to remember that horrible man, his fundamental body shape, the
source of the grating laughter. He tried his hardest to remember the face to
which those big hands belonged to and to his utmost frustration he couldn't.
"You remember his face. You wouldn't forget." Was the harsh reply. It was
insensitively said, but it got Tsuna's to think harder. Hibari was right. He
couldn't have possibly forgotten such an important detail.
As the blood returned to his head, he worried it was coming back with too much
force as he flushed with mortification. He was almost dizzy with the shock of
it. Something cold pressed against one hand, and he looked down to see Hibari
pushing a water glass against his half-open palm. Tsuna downed it quickly,
trying to use the liquid to wash his thought clean.
Tsuna couldn't look away, but at least he could avoid focusing on the other's
piercing gaze. His stomach fluttered briefly in nervousness, for Hibari's words
seemed unfortunately plausible. So much of what the other had already said
proved that he was quite experienced at reading people's behavior and even with
reading him. While Tsuna could admit to being arrogant almost to a fault when
it came to confidence in his own decisions, it would be folly to ignore the
words of someone who obviously knew what he was doing, even if his own
observations contradicted Tsuna's.
He tried to hard to remember the face that he swore that night he would never
forget, the one that he knew he would remember for the rest of his life.
"He...big...had big hands...black hair...he called me...easy, a slut...it had
to be true, because I," Tsuna was barely speaking in connecting sentences, only
describing detached feelings that came to mind, "Everything that night...it, oh
god, it hurt." He said lastly with a choke, his hands reaching up to wrap
around himself. Tsuna forced his chest to expand, pulling in the breath he
needed to think clearly. He squeezed his eyes shut.
He was going to be taken again, going to be used. He thinks he would die if it
happened again, he wouldn't last. His sanity, his body, it could not last. It
was just going to deteriorate into nothing. Perhaps he should have taken a
chance and jumped—
"Look at me," Was the harsh whisper from across him. "Look at me." It was
repeated. Tsuna did, and hot liquid slipped free from his eyelids as they were
opened, "He's not here, Sawada Tsunayoshi. He's human. Only a herbivore."
His empty cup clattered unceremoniously atop the table, but neither of them
took notice of it. The conversation had taken on new significance. Tsuna's
foundation, his near-absolute belief that Pietro was just untouchable, trembled
slightly. The idea of someone hurting Pietro, that was just impossible. The
concept of it was unthinkable. The forced meaning behind Hibari's words was
enough for him to understand. "No, you can't hurt him, he's not normal—"
"Do you want to argue?" Hibari hissed, irritated and slightly wounded. How dare
this little animal think that a mere man could overtake him. "I could search
for him myself and—"
"No!" Tsuna shouted as he stood up. "Don't look for him!" He couldn't stand the
thought of Hibari and Pietro in the same room, in the same town. It just wasn't
something he'd ever want to see. Something he never wanted to picture. It was
not as if he didn't have confidence in Hibari's strength, but he just did not
want Pietro to ever meet Hibari. He just didn't want it. He was being strangely
prejudice about this, for reasons he couldn't explain.
As if sensing the sensitivity of the subject, Hibari, with great reluctance,
backed down. He tried to force calmness in his features to infect Tsuna. It
worked partially, and he slowly sat back down, confused and upset. "I won't."
Hibari promised against his actual desire, "For as long as it is required."
He didn't like that answer, but it didn't brook for rebuke as the other changed
the subject quickly.
"It's late," Hibari says, and Tsuna's eyes flicks to the stove's built-in
clock.
Two in the morning. Close to three. It's been a long night.
Hibari gets up, and Tsuna, customarily, gets up right after.
It's silent as they make their way, Tsuna's thoughts racing. What could this
mean now? Now that Hibari knows everything? He wouldn't really go against his
word and see Pietro, would he? He prayed silently. He didn't want that. He
didn't want Hibari to mingle with the likes of that monster. It's dark in the
hallways, but its not as frightening as it would have been should he have been
alone.
When they walk down the hall, Tsuna glumly separates at the turn, readying to
step into his room when a hand at his door stops him. His eyes trail the hand,
up the arm, and meet Hibari's eyes. "Hibari-san?" He asks, voice uncertain.
"Tonight. With me."
"What—" But he doesn't finish, silencing himself as Hibari drags him the
opposite way by his arm. Towards his bedroom.
When the door was closed behind them softly, Tsuna knew exactly what was going
on. "Me...with...you?" There was short moment of inner ambivalent silence. Even
his own mind was quiet, for it had stuttered to a halt when comprehension
smacked him in the stomach. "Are you sure?" Tsuna asked, disbelieving that
Hibari was actually, willingly, letting someone invade his space. Invade
probably Hibari's most intimate space. His bed.
Hibari let irritation flash across his face in reply. He obviously did not want
to voice further nor give reasons.
He looked at the futon that was already set up. There was a raveled roll right
next to it. Mechanically, he went to smooth the extra futon out, laying it side
by side of Hibari's. The prefect on the other hand went to the bathroom to most
presumably, change into his own sleep wear. Tsuna sat there, nervously making
himself comfortable, hoping it wouldn't be too awkward.
Hibari took an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom brushing his teeth. He
wasn't sure if that was normal. When he emerged back out, Tsuna could see
Hibari was forcing himself to relax. He watched as he twiddled his thumbs
nervously when Hibari reached up and turned off the room's light, throwing them
in obscurity.
They let their eyes adjust for a moment, focusing on each other's outline in
the dark.
They were both highly uncomfortable with this situation, it was understandable
on both parts, but there was one thing Tsuna didn't get. "Why?" The older teen
met his eyes as he stood at the edge of his futon. "Why did you want me to...?"
He motioned his futon, letting that speak for itself.
It sort of crossed boundaries that they set up together. He really shouldn't
ask this, he knew that, but still, it was quite obviously Hibari was reluctant
about it and yet he had initiated it. The curiosity was only overwhelming and
he had no choice but to succumb to it.
The prefect turned his head to stare anywhere but him pointedly, "I require you
to become accustomed to this."
Accustomed to what?
"Proximity." Hibari answered his inquiring eyes, with what looked like,
discomfiture, as he simplified it, "Touch."
He looked back to stare at the hands that laid on top of his blanket. But he
did notice something: Hibari's touches. The lingering hands, the guiding arms
at the small of his back. It had all been so discreet this entire time, he
hadn't even noticed it until aforementioned. Whatever Hibari was thinking, it
was working. Working so well in fact, he hadn't even discern this plan until
now.
Tsuna swallowed, laying down. Hibari took this as cue to lay in his own futon.
There was a good half a foot between them. A comfortable distance. Proximity,
he whispered silently in his mind, proximity would be good for him.
"Goodnight," Tsuna said, turning his back to Hibari stiffly.
Hibari didn't answer, his sheets rustling in response.
He realized dimly when his eyes grew heavy with exhaustion, as he falls asleep,
he forgot to tell Hibari Pietro's name.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: Finished! Finally. To be honest, I'm not satisfied by this
     chapter. I feel like there should be more, but I don't know what else
     to add. I gotta go write Boogie Man now, guys. I hope you enjoyed
     these three consecutive chapters!
     PockiChi made absolutely beautiful fanart for Bestialized, guys. I
     just love the bottle caps here. ( pockochi. deviantart. com/gallery/
     33270633#/d4nyzyp ) Please go drop by her deviant page and leave a
     much deserved comment! She spent nine hours making this! Nine! Thank
     you PockiChi for your amazing effort on this and your support!
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: Thank you for those who gave me suggestions way early back in the
     beginning of this story for this character appearance!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When Tsuna awakes, he is numbly terrified. He almost never gets nightmares, but
then again, he almost never gets dreams either. It's neither, and instead it's
a fitful dreamless sleep that promised white noise and horrifying emptiness.
But sleep and dreams is not what frightens Tsuna awake.
It's the body his back is touching.
It's warm, inviting, but it still makes him want to claw away from the
presence. But he dares not rouse the other. He instead, slowly turns on his
side to face Hibari. He is met with a very beautiful sight. It's ethereal to
see this violent person so close and so at ease. It's something he didn't think
he'd see in a lifetime, or in any lifetime. The prefect's hair fell perfectly
in place, even in slumber, and his eyes were closed very lightly. There was no
crease between the older teen's eyebrows, which gave significant proof that he
was currently having a good rest.
After a moment of awed observing, he finally comprehends his predicament: he
wasn't in his futon.
He had somehow managed to push himself backwards until his back hit Hibari's
front. It was an absolutely miracle the other hadn't awoken during this
process. He suppressed a pathetic whimper.
He's never been in such close proximity with anyone like this since...ever. He
bites his lip, trying to breathe too far because he could feel Hibari's own
breaths stirring the hair from his face. He's nearly sweating. But not from
cold sweat, just the opposite. He was sweating because it was hot. He could
help but think how normal that was. He's been so used to terror-induced sweat
that he's forgotten what actual sweat is like.
Why was he thinking about sweat?
Tsuna turns around, his back once again to Hibari. He slowly tried to edge
sideways back to his own futon. He wants distance from that warmth. His hands
reach out to grapple the cool long-untouched fabric of his prescribed futon
with slight desperation and he could help but notice how nice it felt against
his sweaty hands. He pulls himself forward slowly.
But then stills, turning rigid, when an arm snakes over his stomach.
A sleepy growl in his ear.
It sends vibrations from his ears and resounds all the way to his toes, "What
time is it?"
—
He later understands why he asked for the time earlier. The prefect had plans
today.
Tsuna felt his eyes go wide, staring yet unseeing at Hibari's carefully placid
expression from across from him. His spoon was held midway to his mouth, and he
nearly dropped it in numbing shock.
"A doctor?" Tsuna parrots, the words nearly dying on his tongue, unable to
grasp what his brain was trying to make it say. "A doctor?" He says again more
clearly, "You want me to see a doctor?"
Hibari steadily avoided his eye, and stared at the wall behind Tsuna's head
instead. He does not answer Tsuna's horrified question, and was unsure how to
treat this situation with caution. He couldn't exactly force the other teen to
see this doctor, but it was worth a try.
"I, a doctor, but," Tsuna's words do die this time. Hospitals? No, no, no, no.
He couldn't. He couldn't do this. He couldn't walk into a hospital and
willingly let others see what was reserved for Hibari's and his eyes only. He
couldn't. People could find out. Hospitals made records of every patient
received. They would find out. They would know his defiling and everything he
worked so hard for would be destroyed in a single instant.
It was nightmare unfolding before him, and he knew he could not deny Hibari in
the least, even if he truly wanted to. Not if he promised to help himself.
Tsuna begged. "Please," He pleaded, "Please don't make me."
Hibari only stares back, wordlessly.
At the lack of an answer, he decides to be truthful, "I don't want anyone else
to find out." He hates admitting that, especially aloud, but it's true. He only
hopes Hibari understands why he does this. He just wants to protect everyone.
He doesn't want anyone to think differently of him. He doesn't want his moment
of weakness to effect others.
The prefect does respond to this however, "We will not be going anywhere. I
know someone who will not speak of this. He is scheduled to come here soon."
Hibari's face takes an unpleasant twist. Something like a grimace. Or maybe
darkly amused. He wasn't sure which. "He is under strict client
confidentiality."
—
When the doorbell rang, Hibari went to retrieve their expected visitor,
retreating to the doorstep. He hesitated a moment before following after, not
liking the appeal of waiting by himself in the kitchen. The doctor walked in
after the prefect stiffly opened the door, tall, tan, scruffed faced. He still
looked the same as he last saw him, and that was quite a long time ago. Tsuna
would have laughed, if he weren't so scared. Hibari moved past him as if he
were mere air and stood back at his side.
There was a pregnant silence as they observed each other.
"Shamal." Hibari said simply, and the other two didn't know if that was meant
to be a greeting. Perhaps just acknowledgement. It was more likely than any
cheerful hello from the frustratingly indifferent teenager.
"Hibari." The doctor greeted with an irritated mumble, eyeing them warily. It
was likely he had been threatened to come rather than voluntarily. Which was
just as well. As much as he didn't quite approve of the prefect's methods, at
least it would keep others quiet. The doctor glared heatedly at the taller of
the two, "This better be good Hibari. Because I have never have had a patient
who lives five stories worth of stairs."
Shamal's eyes roved over to Tsuna curiously after his snipe, wondering why the
boss of Vongola was alone with the Cloud Guardian. At his house, no less. A
most rare occurrence, and remarkably strange to his eyes witness them standing
side by side so casually. His struggle up the shrine's steps made him cranky
and irritable, and he really just wanted this over with. "So?" The dark-haired
adult asked, eyes narrowing at the two, "Who is the one who needs treatment?"
There was a difficult bout of quiet in which exchanges were done silently.
Hibari's eyes flicked to Tsuna. And the shorter teen raised his hand hesitantly
after a pause.
The doctor huffed exasperatedly, "Of course. Of course I would walk up five
stories to touch another man's body." He was quite obviously still hung over
the unnecessary amount of walking he endured. "It's always men."
Ignoring the doctor's snide comment, Hibari took the lead with a vague gesture.
The three of them walked to the kitchen. Tsuna and Shamal followed after,
though the Italian man's movements were much more enthusiastic than even
Tsuna's. As they arrived at the kitchen, he immediately went to stand by the
other's side and they were back to square one, staring at one another.
When it became awkwardly obvious Hibari was taking no action to explain his
needed prescence he snapped impatiently, "Well?" He crossed his arms, his stare
turning into an angry glower. "What's your damn problem that needed my
undivided attention?" He sounded just as, if not more, reluctant than Tsuna
felt. And he felt a twinge of regret when he realized he was inflicting himself
on other once more. He wanted desperately to tell the doctor that it was
alright, to just go away, but he knew that Hibari's threats held greater weight
than any of his weak protests.
He really didn't want to reply to this question, there were so many variables
that could be answered. He sent a glance at the prefect beside him, hoping
desperately that Hibari would pick up his waves of discomfort. Luckily, it was
easy for him to see through Tsuna and he answered instead. "His legs are in
need of stitching." He left it at that only, knowing the jagged welts on
Tsuna's legs would speak for themselves.
Even though he was immensely relieved that he had been wrong, Tsuna paled at
these new words, and his throat caught mid-breath. His stomach flipped, because
it was just so strange to hear it in such a simplified form of what it really
was. In truth, he hadn't expected that. He hadn't known why exactly Hibari
needed him to see a doctor. There were too many things wrong with him, too many
variables, to give an exact idea.
Or to be truthful, he hadn't been sure what he had been expecting. Of course
Hibari was eager to get those wounds closed, but for a terrifying moment he
thought the prefect was going to make him go through rape recovery treatment.
Whatever that was. Or if such even existed. He wasn't sure if one could die of
shame, but the idea sounded deliriously tempting at the thought of it.
He continued to struggle to breathe, much like a fish out of water. The doctor,
despite his own disgruntled demeanor, looked at Tsuna with new underlying
interest, maybe concern, hidden beneath a scruffed indifferent exterior. Tsuna
shrunk away inwardly from that probing gaze, wanting to retreat and scurry to
the safety of his, or Hibari's room, whichever one didn't matter. Shamal
scratched his head, humming boredly. He flicked off a clump of lint off his
coat. He was very calmly taking in Tsuna's visible symptoms.
The doctor pursed his lips, but after a nod, he gestured the teen to sit on the
table. He scrambled to do so, and Hibari came along to stand behind him. There
was a moment of silence and they once again regarded each other.
Shamal snapped his fingers, growing increasingly agitated by Tsuna's lack of
attention. "Your pants." Was all he said, and Tsuna understood right away.
Swallowing he looked up at Hibari, who was only an arm's length away, so close
by. The other gave him a pointed look. A hint of support behind the
indifference in the gaze, and it was enough to spur him into compliance.
He pulled it down with shaking, shaking hands, his mind going back to the night
in the bathroom. He didn't pull off his boxers, he didn't quite think he was
ready for that. He grimaced at his own cuts, but could not find it in himself
to look away. They were truly disgusting, especially in the daylight. He's
never cared to study them before, but it was incredibly hard not to. Risen
skin, deep and long jagged trenches on his once perfectly fine exterior. It was
evidence of his weakness, of his obsession. Of his only way out and escape from
reality.
Tsuna looked to gauge Shamal's reaction to the sight and was met with a
perfectly stoic stare. The eyes didn't stay long on him, as if respecting the
privacy the welts held. He expected Shamal to comment on the cuts, or at least
shout something, and was momentarily confused when it didn't come. Tsuna shut
his eyes until he heard the doctor moving to dig through a worn bag he had
brought with him, picking up various tools.
Tsuna went very still at the first sight of the gleaming silver-lit tools, not
liking the thought of such instruments near or touching places he only let
select amount of people touch. Which could only be counted on one hand. Or one
finger.
Without almost even being aware of it, Tsuna clasped onto Hibari's arm. The
doctor gave a hesitant pause at his obvious visible discomfort, but he had
already shut his eyes. Which watered behind quivering eyelids, welling messily,
like a streaming river against a dam. The doctor reached forward, syringe in
hand. Don't be scared. Don't be scared.
He jumped slightly despite himself, as a hand pushed up the edge of his boxers
and began working at the cuts with the anesthetic. The exact moment he felt the
needle in the wounds, he started breaking apart. Perhaps it was because a
stranger was touching an intimate part of him, seeing the dark secret he's been
hiding for so long. It was shame perhaps, that made the dam break. His breath
hitched every now and then as the doctor prodded around four or five of the
cuts.
Shamal doesn't comment on the strange shape the cuts took. Or the jagged edges
of the broken skin. He's able to connect the dots fairly well without much
probing.
Tsuna turned his head, for he was unable to watch someone fix up his mistakes
when he couldn't fix it himself. It was a horrible sinking feeling, knowing
someone else knew, someone else was cleaning him up. He kept his gaze at the
spot on Hibari's shoulder when he calmed his breathing and opened his eyes,
twitching at the most triggering moments, when he remembered how each welt
touched came to be. He stared at the dark cloth and nothing else.
After what seemed like an eternity of sitting and alternating between silently
tearing up and silently agonizing and most of the times both, Shamal finished
with the stitches. He meticulously dabbed and swiped gently at the remaining
mess of blood here and there, staining the white sutures a light pink even
further. The cuts were now closed, however, the way the stitches were made
showed testament of how very severe his actions were. It looked more
discomforting than it had been before they were fixed.
Tsuna finally let go of Hibari, his breathing slowed to normality and he pulled
his pants on with even shakier hands. Shamal only started speaking when he had
managed to slightly calm himself down.
His face was of stony seriousness, so unlike the womanizing character he had
known him to be. "Vongola," There was a shake of his head, before he looked at
him straight in the eye. Tsuna shuddered as he looked up to meet that gaze, out
of shame maybe. It was the first eye contact they had since the small operation
started. "This will only be able to help the cuts you have now. They won't
necessarily stop you from making any new ones." The doctor's expression was not
biting, but rather, taking on a split between being stern and being gentle.
A rare countenance that Tsuna probably has never seen on him before, an
expression he's only seen on doctors reaching a delicate topic. It had to be a
practiced trade. "I'm going to give you a written prescription for antibiotics.
You seem to have an infection that is causing a light fever that makes you feel
hot to touch. Your body doesn't have enough healthy red blood cells. Which
means they can't provide oxygen to your body tissues."
He was startled by the last sentence. He knew he couldn't kill himself through
bottle caps, and he hadn't thought the bleeding they made was that dangerous.
The mention of anemia frightened him, though. He worried his teeth on his lips,
trying to collect himself. Tsuna placed the prescription given to him into his
pocket, his fingers curling around the tube.
"Hibari said you were experiencing bizarre nosebleeds." Tsuna's eyes flicked
abruptly to the prefect beside him, but still listening very intently to
Shamal, "I believe it's because of stress. Not many people think it's possible
but it is. Excessive amounts of stress that are not addressed can lead to
physical manifestations. When the human body is under too much strain, blood
circulation is increased."
He reached over and slowly cleaned his sutures scissors with a grace of a
professional. The once white cloth was now taking a pink tinge from the excess
mess of the process. "This increase also causes a rise in blood pressure that
can put blood vessels at risk of breaking. The fragile blood vessels in the
nose are susceptible to this increase in pressure and as a result burst under
the pressure, causes nosebleeds to develop."
Shamal didn't reach out to grip at Tsuna's shoulders. As if he knew that a
single touch that was more than Hibari's at the moment would break him. And it
probably would. Instead, he gives the next words sternly, "If this keeps up,
your body will begin deteriorating, your immune system will actually give up on
trying to heal you."
He finishes with finality in his tone, "Is that what you want?" His face was
stern, leveling to meet Tsuna's. The teenager dropped his gaze, unable to stave
off the great wave of shame that washed over him in the brief contact.
More silence.
Tsuna hesitantly speaks after a moment. "There are times..." He trails off.
"Huh?" Shamal leaned closer to hear.
But Tsuna edges away and speaks louder, "Sometimes...I get these very painful
twists." Tsuna said quietly. He brings a hand to rub the balls of his wrist to
his sternum. "Right here. I blacked out once because of it." The library, his
mind supplied helpfully. It felt like so long ago.
Shamal looks thoughtful at this new information. Finally he reaches a
conclusion as recognition filters through his dark eyes and utters a single
word that sends a shudder through them all, "Attacks?"
He doesn't look at Hibari but he does bite his lip and nods uncertainly. He
tries to describe it, but it doesn't sound very accurate as actually
experiencing it. "It feels like...it feels like I can't breathe, and then I
can't hear or see anything. That's usually when my nose bleeds."
Shamal crosses his arms. "Attacks. They're periods of intense fear. It usually
includes dyspnea, heart palpitations, chest pain, sweating. Sometimes you'd get
hot and cold flashes and burning sensations. Difficulty breathing usually." The
doctor frowns as he looks over at Tsuna, "Sound familiar?" It sounded better
than his description. He nods again, eyes to the floor.
Shamal is hesitant as he fishes the next question out, "The feeling of
impending death is natural during an attack. It's very intense and consuming.
They're usually triggered by something." He narrows his eyes, "Can you describe
what set you off?"
He shakes his head. He doesn't want to.
Shamal doesn't push however.
The doctor rolled out his tools and began packing them away mechanically. They
remain in thoughtful silence.
Shamal himself was in inner turmoil as his thoughts raced. The information he
had in his hands now, he didn't know what to do with it. This was the Vongola
boss, this could very well affect something in the future. Those cuts, the
attacks. And he knew for certain that there had to be a reason why they
existed. Why they thrived in what used to be such a healthy body. It would only
be the right thing to do, to tell others. He wasn't quite sure if his parents
knew about his condition, though by his presence here alone, proved enough.
Of course it was only for his own good that he would.
Should he tell Reborn?
"Shamal."
The doctor finishes and looks at Hibari. "I hope you are aware that you pledged
under client confidentiality. Understand that if you break our agreement, I
will put you under guilty jurisdiction." Tsuna didn't doubt Hibari's authority.
He had enough power in Namimori to do just that.
He wasn't quite looking for another felony to add to his belt. It was bad
enough he was on the run from a Queen from another country for his
fraternizing. He would like to remain a free man, after all. He nods glumly. "I
understand." He looks to Tsuna.
He's only known and met Shamal a few times. But he feels that the doctor does
know what's going on around him, despite his frivolous behavior most of the
time. He doesn't say anything else, but the gaze he fixes on him spoke volumes.
Do no more, it said, no more.
—
Unease. Wariness. It followed him like a insistent mosquito.
Shamal puffed at his cigarette, its gray sultry smoke curling like a live
animal around him. He exhaled again, excess spilling out from his lips. One
hand in his pocket, the other holding his worn bag. He took his time stepping
down the shrine, his descending steps becoming instinctive and monotonous to
the point he didn't have to stare at the floor no longer. He settled with
staring out into the dying horizon.
He didn't like this, and he most certainly didn't find tasteful in keeping such
an important amount of information only to himself.
He mulled over what the consequences of telling would be. But he also thought
of the price of not telling anyone. Vongola was in danger. The foolish naive
two teenagers, they were just kids, they truly didn't understand the weight of
their decision. These attacks, this cutting, that border-line anemia. This was
no game, and this was no ordinary dirty little secret. If an enemy family had
gotten hold of this information, got hold that the unbeatable young boss was
crippled and failing in health, they would ultimately be destroyed.
Vongola was truly in danger.
Shamal groaned in despair as his thoughts dug deeper until they became
realizations, more gray wisp expelling from his nose this time. He could not
tell anyone though, the weight of his own punishment over his shoulders. But it
wasn't only punishment that held him back, it was against his code to reveal
any clientele information. It was going against everything he built himself up
to be as a doctor.
But what could he do?
Then he had a thought. And that thought turned into an idea. Then that idea
turned into a plan.
He fished out his phone. He could not tell anyone, but that didn't mean he
couldn't have someone find out by themselves. He dialed a number in quick
recession. If he was right, then it was early morning in Florence.
"Hello?" A voice said from the other line.
Shamal smiled, his cheeks stretching.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: We just learned Tsuna's condition. And would you look at that!
     Plot! I'm the queen of very slow beginnings!
     Note that this chapter is unbetaed, so it is expected to have a lot
     of typos. If you spot any, tell me? c:
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: I hope I don't confuse anyone too much by the vast amount of POVs
     in here.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
He just wanted to understand.
At lunch, they sat on the roof. Usually, no one ate on the roof, but now
students began taking advantage of Hibari's repeated absences. Their backs were
to the gated walls, their hair ruffling in the noon wind. The atmosphere was
suppose to have been cheerful, a change of pace from eating in their classroom,
staring expectantly at the empty desk that had always stayed empty.
The worry was eating him inside out. But he had been told not to worry by both
Yamamoto and Tsuna, and he said he wouldn't, but it still didn't seem to repeal
the unease that piled heavily day by day on his shoulders.
"Yamamoto," Gokudera said softly.
The dark-haired teen's head swiveled to look at him in reply, voice dying at
the sound of the other teen's voice. He had been talking aimlessly about his
day, about mundane things that happened over the weekend, about baseball. But
they both knew that it was only to help escape the reality of their situation.
A small comfort, and if they believed hard enough, it was like Tsuna was right
next to them, nodding at the right places with a quietly polite presence.
"Yamamoto," He said again, looking him straight in the eyes instead of at the
space between the other's gaze, "Where is Tenth?"
The other's smile slightly cracked, twitched in effort to stay. "He's with
Hibari."
It was a question that they knew the answer to, one they both thought of nearly
every hour of everyday, but the smoke-haired teen asked it anyway.
In their everyday life, they felt lonelier than they knew what to do with it.
A missing spot that usually sat between them was still open.
—
He silently rubbed the oil-slicked cloth against the hard black metal. He sat
with his back against the wall of Tsuna's room, legs stretched out before him
on the pressed sheets of the bed. His guns laid scattered around his person.
This situation was a familiar ritual to the baby, he often used this method to
lay his thoughts on the table and analyze them thoroughly. He usually did this
to clear his thoughts, push serenity into his conscience. And though his hands
were busy, his mind was anything but calm.
Reborn shifted his arm to roll his shoulders before resuming his meticulous
cleaning. He didn't like being left out of the know. It didn't happen often,
but when it did it always drew him to excessive extremes. He was torn between
blatant irritation, impatience, and underlying concern.
He didn't like the way Tsuna has been looking lately. Of course he's noticed,
and he was fairly sure that the teen was hiding something from him. To hide it
to this length, to go so far as to act as if nothing was wrong, it wasn't like
him. It worried him.
Tsuna never held back telling him anything. In a way, as shy and unassuming as
the other appeared to be, he could be painfully honest with Reborn. He never
hesitated to tell how ridiculous the baby was, or how unreasonable and selfish
he could be. A quick stare and a glint of his guns always had Tsuna reeling and
fishing his words back, however. But this time was disturbingly different,
because Tsuna was trying very hard to keep a secret from him.
Tsuna had always been so open with him, and Reborn could feel the boy closing
on him now.
For a moment, he considered forcefully shaking, literal or not, the truth out
of the teen, and he didn't doubt he could actually get answers. This was
necessary, this was important. What if this jeopardized their family? Did this
concern Tsuna's position as boss of the Vongola famiglia?
No. He thought with a shake of his head. He scrubbed hard, his nails digging to
reach the crevices. Tsuna would never keep a secret that endangered anyone.
Whatever it was, it certainly had to do with himself only.
Well. Him and Hibari.
He narrowed his eyes into slits, something unpleasant bubbling inside of him.
Reborn finished his gun and leaned forward to retrieve another and started on
that one, rubbing small circles with the grayed cloth.
It was just strange that Tsuna's been obeying Hibari without explanation or
protest. It was strange how, all of a sudden, the two seemed inseparable. Well
that wasn't necessarily true, for it gradually happened over time. But still,
Reborn couldn't help but see the underhandedness of the development that
occurred under his nose, without his supervision. Thus causing his cluelessness
now.
Could it be that perhaps Tsuna was nervous about becoming the boss? Well that
was no news, but it still didn't explain the sudden relationship between Hibari
Kyoya and him.
It was no secret that Tsuna feared Hibari to some extreme lengths. But
regardless, they had become chummy, and now from what he understood, he didn't
nearly speak to anyone else as much as he spoke to the prefect.
He didn't like this. On another bygone day perhaps, he would have approved of
this strengthening bond with his Cloud Guardian, just as he said weeks ago, but
the sinking feeling of not understanding the situation overpowered the desire
to feel insured by any possible loyalty.
Reborn gave up cleaning, shoving his gun aside and tossing the cloth irately at
the ends of his feet.
—
"Kyoko!" Hana called, sliding up to her best friend. She planted her bottom on
top of the shorter girl's textbook, effectively blocking her study time.
She laughed, her voice like bells, playfully poking a pencil at Hana's elbow.
"Hana, you're on my notes."
"I know," Hana said, "But I think you need a break. Exams are already over, you
know?" It was true. Yesterday was the last.
"Yeah," Kyoko said nodding. She closed her eyes, a helpless smile on her lips.
Oh she knew. But taking notes for two wasn't helping any if the supposed
recipient wasn't coming to school to take them. She fisted the hand on her lap,
worriedly unclasping and clasping her fingers.
Even though she knew it wasn't a secret that he wasn't particularly remarkable
at tests, it wasn't like him to miss so many days of school, to miss mid-terms
no less. He wasn't the kind to skip class, he was a good guy. So it tickled her
curiosity and even alighted her concern when she noticed that she hadn't seen
him for days.
—
The two looked up, blinking at the arrival.
"Reborn-san!" Gokudera exclaimed, an amiable smile springing, "What can I do
for you?"
Reborn's eyes shifted to Yamamoto, who stared steadfastly back, his own smile
growing at the new arrival. "Yamamoto," the infant addressed, ignoring
Gokudera's visible deflation at his dismissal, "Have you seen Hibari?"
At the mention of the Cloud Guardian, their smiles vanished quickly. They were
secretly hoping that Reborn had some information about what Tsuna was doing
with Hibari, but he seemed just at loss as them. Yamamoto shook his head. "I
usually see him after-school a little after practice ends, but no, I haven't.
Not for the last seven days."
Reborn contemplated this.
"Reborn-san," Gokudera spoke with a slight plea, though just as respectful, "Do
you know anything?"
He was quiet for a moment before he muttered begrudgingly, "No." He added after
with much reluctance, "I want to know if you two know what's going on here." If
Tsuna wouldn't tell Reborn, he had figured he would tell his best friends
instead.
Gokudera shook his head. And Yamamoto mimicked.
Some silence.
So he hadn't. Cursing inwardly, he had been under the impression that, if he
hadn't told neither of his friends, then it was quite possible that this was
more than just a simple matter of cold feet. What was so important that it had
something to do with Hibari of all people? Why him? Why not the people closest
to him? Why not Reborn, Yamamoto, or Gokudera?
Yamamoto shuffled, "I mean, well, it's probably just a friend thing right? I
mean, Tsuna probably wants to be Hibari's friend." There was a strained silence
as they said nothing but continued staring at him instead. He added lastly with
haste, "I mean, you know, like teammates. We're all part of this mafia game.
Maybe Tsuna just wants Hibari to become more active in it."
The wisp-haired boy turned with an indignant stare, "But that's something we
could give him! He doesn't need Hibari, he has us!"
"We can't keep Tsuna on a leash now, and tie him to us all the time." Yamamoto
said with an easy toothed grin. Though it was quite obvious he wanted just the
opposite by the heavily forced cheer of the tone, "He's free to be friends who
he wants, you know."
It was becoming rather obvious what the true meaning behind their conversation
was: maybe Tsuna didn't want to be their friend anymore.
Ridiculous as that concept was, because they all knew just how much he truly
treasured their time together. He'd fought for it, bled for it. Nearly died,
more than once, for it. If that didn't mean anything, they didn't know what
did. If that didn't show how much he cared, then they were lost. They were
truly unfaithful, really, to think that Tsuna would throw away their friendship
over a week's lapse.
Reborn put a hand to his lips, arms crossed over his torso in thought. "I have
an idea."
"An idea?" Gokudera parroted.
"Let's hear it." Yamamoto encouraged, curiosity enlightening.
"How would you both feel about..." The infant began, "Starting...early?"
"Starting early?" Yamamoto likewise repeated, but then was surprisingly quicker
than Gokudera as his eyes lit in comprehension, "Oh! The mafia game!"
Bemused by the simple-mindedness, Reborn let slip a small smirk and humored
him, "Yes. How do you feel about leaving for Italy? We could get away from
Namimori. Start having Tsuna mold into shape there instead. It would at least
help the process in an early stage."
Gokudera only seemed too enthralled by this idea. "That's brilliant! Oh, Italy,
Tenth would love it there! And I'm sure he'd like the change in the monotony."
"But what about Hibari?" Yamamoto spoke, popping the bubble. "Is he coming
too?"
Gokudera only seemed soured by this prospect, his face twisting in displeasure
at the thought.
"Oh no," Reborn shook his head, an innocent expression doubled behind a casual
shrug, "I doubt he'd really come with us. But that's just as well. He'll keep
Namimori safe while we're in Italy."
Reborn thought it was time for playtime to be over. Ok, so it wasn't really out
of the good intentions of his heart for his reasons. This proposal though, he
felt would benefit all of them. He wasn't sure of Tsuna's thoughts on this
sudden change would be positive or negative, though he was pretty sure he'd be
against the irrational decision on their part. The teen was never one to like
changes, but he was confident that he would adapt.
Not only that, Gokudera and Yamamoto seemed to be agreeable with this sudden
arrangement. They were okay, as long as it promised Tsuna being with them for a
time. They were on his side, backing him up unbeknownst of his true
contrivance. Tsuna would bend to their will, most especially.
He nodded absently to himself, scrutinizing the two guardians in front of them.
Their excitement on getting out of the country seemed to overpower their
concern at the moment, they unknowingly clutched to this idea of escape from
this ambiguous confusion.
And he was positive that Hibari would be more than glad to be rid of the burden
Tsuna's most likely making himself.
He'd appreciate this.
—
The next Sunday that rounded the corner was a peaceful one.
There were no more repeated incidents of waking up in the same futon, but
eventually, he found himself getting used to Hibari's touch. A hand at his
forearm that wanted to take a fork from him, a soft brush of an elbow bumping
against his as they stood side by side, and straight forward contact of meeting
eyes.
He didn't shy away from Hibari anymore, well, not as often as he did. He didn't
feel that overwhelming need for alienation, or that detached feeling he felt
around people.
Tsuna began feeling human.
The slow stimulation of his blood circulating through his body felt good in
such a calming environment. The silences were golden as they sat together, no
longer awkward and stiff, but comfortable in a level they both understood.
Together, they cleaned the house meticulously, trying to make themselves
engaged in the quiet. And together, they ate. Together, they did laundry.
It was mundane things, simple chores that busied their hands, kept them close.
There was no television here. But that was just as well. He found that Hibari
preferred the soft cadences of Tsuna's smallest noises as he worked over
hearing the tinny noises of a foreign electronic device.
Close.
Breathing.
They peered at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking, and this
often led to averted gazes and even more soft touches. To perhaps reassure the
other that they hadn't meant anything by the simple stares and the thoughts
that filtered through each glance.
It was becoming painfully obvious what their relationship was turning into, yet
neither was brave enough to take the next step forward. To take matters in
their own hands.
It was the next Sunday that rounded the corner, today, that the pattern was
broken.
That everything they built up was destroyed in a single thoughtless mistake.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: So now we know that Reborn is intentionally tearing them away
     from one another. And we got to see through the eyes of others. You
     know, this fic was not suppose to have been as long as it is now. It
     wasn't suppose to have an elaborate plot. It was only meant to serve
     as a short project while I worked on my other big projects. But it's
     grown on me, and I find myself working hard on this than I really
     should. I suppose it's because of you all.
     Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed.
     This chapter was beta-ed by sweet-and-simple. Yes, beta-ed! It's so
     much better having two heads instead of untangling things on my own.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: This was beta'd by simple-and-sweet, thank you for your amazing
     work!
     We also have a fan soundtrack! The album cover is amazing, drawn by
     PockoChi! Download link plus information is here: ( jikage .tumblr.
     com/post/19063996555/bestialized-fan-soundtrack-story-written-by )
     Look how long this chapter is! I'm so proud of myself! Thank you for
     all that took the time reading this, and of course a great big bear
     hug goes out to those who reviewed! You gave me insightful
     suggestions, analyzing opinions that thrilled me. Today is Sunday,
     and due to the overall theme of this chapter, I felt it was
     appropriate to update it on March 11, 2012, because it's been a year
     since the devastation of the earthquake/tsunami in Japan. This
     chapter is dedicated to friends I've lost, and haven't heard from
     since that day.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Hibari had a treasure trove in his house. It wasn't filled with gold and silver
and whatnot, but it still held significance of one to him.
It came as a surprise to Tsuna, as they both were wandering the hallways like
directionless children, to discover a closed off room nearest to the backdoor.
He hadn't really taken notice of it before until Hibari paused to stare at it
for a moment one afternoon on their way to the kitchen. His eyes lit up in
curiosity, his interest sparking when he noticed the prefect's diverted
attention. Tsuna asked, "What's in there?"
The gunmetal-haired teen's face remained indifferent, but he crossed to open
the door himself. A hand groped for the light switch and, with a stutter of a
mothball-filled light bulb, it flickered on. He moved out of the way so Tsuna
could see past him into the dimly lit room.
Mouth dropping open, he took a step forward and leaned in the doorway.
The amount of junk inside was more than amazing. He hadn't expected Hibari to
be a collector of sorts, but here it was, undeniable proof in massive
assemblage. His gaze caught on a bicycle in the far back, its tires deflated
over time. There were boxes and boxes filled to the brim of what had to be a
mixture of used notebooks, broken parts of toys, and an accumulation of tacky
jewelry.
"What is this stuff?" He poked a finger to tug open a precariously ajar drawer
filled with silverware before pushing to snap it closed.
When he noticed the lack of response from Hibari, he winced and turned to look
at him, wondering if he had literally dragged skeletons out of the closet with
his nosiness.
Most surprisingly, he was only watching the shorter teen with open amusement.
"Articles the Disciplinary Committee confiscated over time."
Confiscated, he wondered, or bribery? If he was to be honest, he wouldn't put
it past them.
Hibari moved to smugly gesture at the bike that leaned battered and useless
against the wall. "This was taken by a thief who was trying to escape me. I
trust you are intelligent on lengths needed to deduce the outcome of that
situation." His smile was darkly amused.
Tsuna shuddered, laughing nervously, when he noticed the not-quite-subtle dents
of tonfa marring the round fenders. He looked at the boxes of notebooks at his
feet. He grasped the one on top and flipped it open, sifting through the pages.
His eyebrow rose at the crude pencil-made drawings. "And these?"
"Students seem to be fond of lethargic art during class."
He chuckled worriedly, feeling bad for the unfortunate individuals that had
been caught doodling innocently by one sadistic prefect.
"Some of these don't even make sense." Tsuna held up a jar of tangled jewelry.
All fake plastic, he realized with growing confusion.
"Namimori residents become desperate to pay back loans. I have Kusakabe take
them because it humors me. They still compensate in the end however. I make
sure of it."
Of course Hibari also played loan shark in his free-time, he expected no less.
Tsuna resisted the urge to roll his eyes, walking further into the room, and
his head swiveled to survey the rest. He approached the shelf with his hands on
his knees, eyes curiously roving through the cluster of molding instruments. He
froze when he saw a box atop a stack of magazines. It was clear Tupperware, and
the shapes inside weren't hard to figure out through the haze of plastic.
His bottle caps. Six of them.
Suddenly, the air in the long room became awkward. Tsuna was very relieved to
realize that he didn't feel the need to sneak them out and use them again. But
he also really didn't want to be caught looking at them. He didn't want Hibari
to misunderstand his intentions. He tried to casually back away, but stumbled
into the others chest instead. He embarrassingly jumped back, spinning around
to face the other.
Well damn, he had seen him. Cringing, he waited for him to comment. He did,
much to his dismay, "Where did you get the idea from?"
Blinking, he tilted his head in inquiry.
"Those." Hibari pointed to the bottle caps. "Where did you get the idea from?"
Should he tell the truth? How pathetic his true reason was. He contemplated the
pros and cons of his reply.
Tsuna bit his lip, eyes to the floor. Eventually, he did answer, "I was walking
home, and I saw it and picked it up." The shorter of the two's gaze drifted to
the Tupperware. His eyes were distant and unseeing as he remembered leaning
over and pushing the broken glass away, revealing his first bottle cap. "I
suppose that, it, the idea came to me when I squeezed it too hard. They were
really sharp..." He trailed off, not wanting to delve into it.
Without thinking, his fingers flexed. Hibari caught the movement and Tsuna
forced the appendages to stay still. They regarded each other for a moment in
silence.
With no further comment to voice, Hibari moved past him to tug a box and pull
it to another stack. Something white and black in the container caught Tsuna's
eye. "A soccer ball?" He asked, reaching for it.
Hibari let him take it out, the shorter teen balancing it in two hands.
It wasn't exactly brand new; it still had scuffs on the side, proof of some
use.
Tsuna smiled.
—
"You find this recreational?" Hibari glowered at him from across the room.
Tsuna bit his lip, trying with great effort not to laugh as he watched Hibari
nudge the side of the ball with his foot. It bounced away, rolling to a stop
close to Tsuna's side.
It amused him to no end, though he would really never admit it, to see the
hardened prefect kicking a ball around in the living room. Hibari relented when
Tsuna proposed to toy with it, only for awhile, and since they were indoors,
they agreed to keep the kicks light. "Have you ever played before?" he asked in
return, pushing it gently back to the other.
The taller teen frowned. His foot caught the ball, rolling it under his heel
experimentally. "Never," he answered curtly after a moment. Tsuna would have
been surprised to hear otherwise. He didn't think the other would take time to
partake in frivolous teamwork building games. "I do understand the mechanics of
the sport."
"Then this is your first time?" Tsuna asked, smiling.
Hibari allowed himself to stare at the pleased beam sent his way. If he was to
be true to himself and tried recalling the gaping holes of his absent
childhood, he knew that this was actually his first time kicking something that
wasn't a miscreant or a disturber of the peace, but an inanimate object only
for leisurely purposes.
"Yes," He said honestly. Because everything seemed like the first time lately.
—
Eventually Tsuna ran out of clothes.
It was expected, because he had only been packed for a week's trip away. They
could have easily washed them, simple as the solution was, or Hibari could have
even lent him his own clothes. Out of politeness and decency, he refused,
wanting to retrieve more spares for himself. He'd already encroached on him too
much. It would have only made the situation more embarrassing than it already
was to borrow his host's clothes when he had perfectly working ones at his own
home.
They avoided the subject of Tsuna's leaving. They had for all two weeks. Had it
only been that long? Only half a month with Hibari? Because it felt like he was
a new person.
The two teens stood opposite from each other, emotions masked. Hibari was
dressed in a turtleneck and pressed khakis, and Tsuna found it hard to imagine
him in anything less formal, even in casual clothes. His arms were folded,
stretching the black fabric. Tsuna tried not to think about how nice it looked
stretched across his chest like that.
His own hands were at the gate, and he closed it slowly, the metallic twang of
the iron clasp meeting resounding up and down the dirt padded road and through
the foliage of the forestry around them.
Tsuna bit his lip. The taller of the two shifted his weight onto his other
foot.
"I'll see you later." He said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder.
Hibari didn't reply, but his glower was enough of an answer.
Tsuna turned heel, ready to begin his trek down the shrine's steps.
The prefect stopped him, his voice trailing off. "Do you..."
Pausing, he turned around with a waiting stare, encouraging for the other to
continue.
He shifted the weight to his other foot. Hibari looked as if he hated the words
as he finished with more clarity, "Do you wish for me to accompany you."
Tsuna opened his mouth to give an automatic reply, but thinking better of it,
he only smiled and said, "No thank you. It'll be quick." He could at least do
this by himself. Just a quick walk and back. He could do this, right?
The prefect nodded, his face especially blank.
Feeling apprehensive, Tsuna raised a hand. It gave a little wave. And he turned
to retreat down the dirt path.
It was an awkward goodbye. But the promise of returning hung firm in the air
between them.
—
He took the shortest way home. Being outside still made him apprehensive,
uncomfortable by the aspect of eyes on him even in broad daylight. He avoided
restaurants, avoided too desolate streets, avoided too crowded streets. He
avoided people in general, really. He was only keen on getting some clothes and
coming back.
And, of course, see his mother. Though he knew Reborn had most likely covered
his absence as he always did, it still didn't quell the guilt that churned in
his stomach. Despite her easy acceptance of the most ridiculous situations, she
still was a mother and she still worried like one. He hadn't called the entire
two weeks, and it left him cold.
His mother was his reason, his raison d'être. It horrified him how he hadn't
thought much about her as he should have during the duration of his stay at
Hibari's grounds.
He fished out his keys, shoving it into the lock and turned the doorknob to see
Bianchi at the door.
She seemed just as surprised to see him. "You're back?" She asked, after
masking her bewilderment.
He realized how odd it was to see Bianchi. In the haze of his bleakest days, he
couldn't remember the last time he'd truly spoken to her without acting. In
some rush of relief, he was glad to meet her and saw she hadn't changed, and
like his mother and friends, stayed peacefully ignorant. "Bianchi!" He
exclaimed pleasantly, "I'm just going to get some things and see mom for a
bit."
She looked somewhat disturbed as he walked past her, but he disregarded that,
skipping two steps at a time up the stairs. The stitches still slightly
restricted his movements, but it gave a better sense of security, he no longer
had to worry about whether or not his wounds would open and bleed through his
pants anymore.
"Wait, Tsuna, I don't think—" The roseate-haired woman followed him up the
stairs, reaching for his arm.
But he was already at his bedroom door, pushing it open.
Stunned silence.
His bag dropped to the floor.
Boxes. There were boxes here. His desk was cleaned out, the drawers pulled out
to rest on the floor, emptied of his belongings. His dressers were bare and his
bed was only a mattress on a frame. The little things he had on his wall were
taken down, leaving his walls a bleach white that upset his insides.
The room, his room, looked so disturbing from the lack of proof that he lived
there at all.
Movement in the corner caught his eye. He turned to see his mother looking up
at him in pleasant surprise. "Tsuna! Good timing you have coming home, you can
help me pack the rest." She patted a taped box in emphasis.
"Pack, the—" Tsuna was speechless. His eyes bugging out of his sockets, the
overload of information combined with disbelief fueled his incredulity. "Pack
for where?"
Apprehension grew as his mother smiled wider. She was steadily walking to his
closet, her hand on its knob. "To Italy! Reborn told me how you won a
scholarship over there! I'm proud of you by the way, I knew your perseverance
would pay off."
Horrified, he shook his head slowly, mouth agape. No. No. Scholarship?
Perseverance? That was all just another ridiculous lie! She kept commenting in
a tone weighted down with sickening happiness, unbeknownst to her son's
devastation, her attention staying on his closet. She was pulling hangers from
the rack and meticulously piling them on an arm. "There are a lot of
prestigious schools over there, I know you will love it. I've only been there
once with your father, but I wish I could have stayed longer to explore a bit
more."
"Oh yes," Reborn said, suddenly standing at his side. Tsuna spun around to
stare down at him in affixed shock. "The programs there are really beneficial."
What was she talking about? What was he talking about? God damn, that baby
again, he was doing something irrational without telling him again. What were
his true intentions? He truly doubted it was for an actual scholarship. This
was the mafia again. He would not take this sitting down.
"I'm not going." He snapped angrily.
Thrown into a loop, Nana's head swiveled to stare at her child, wide with
confusion. Reborn only met his eyes straight on, eerily calm. "I'm not going."
He said again with firm clarity. "I want to stay here."
"But, Tsuna," Nana began softly, reaching towards him with a gentle hand, "Your
father said he's willing to have you live with him, he wants you and him—"
Definitely no. He didn't care what his father wanted, he wanted nothing to do
with him. Trying to gain his mother's favor, he said earnestly, "I just want to
be here with you, mom. That was my original intention. I never planned on going
overseas." Even as he confessed it, he realized how true it was.
Reborn scowled at the open defiance, seeing through his intentions completely.
Now he was using his mother? What was his student playing at? Was he truly that
desperate to stay? Fueled by Tsuna's determination, he decided to push harder.
"Gokudera and Yamamoto are coming along too."
Instead of being relatively happy by this prospect, it had just the opposite
effect. It seemed to make him angrier, his blood rushing to his head fast. Now
Yamamoto and Gokudera were dragged into this? He didn't quite know the real
reasons of their leave, but the thought of making Yamamoto leave his only
parent too was somewhat of a gut-puncher.
He was taking himself back to the reminiscent times of their time ten years in
the future. He had done the same thing there, and the guilt nearly ate him
alive then. He was inflicting himself on his friends again, and he didn't want
that.
Nana seemed to take his fuming stupor for compliance and she began working at
his closet again.
"Is there a particular reason," he sniped the last out with hidden venom, "why
I need to be in Italy?"
The baby had the nerve to look amused, "Of course. There's an important seat
waiting for you. And we shouldn't keep them waiting."
So Reborn wanted him to inherit the Vongola family already? Like hell he would!
At age fifteen, no less!
He was readying to yell his protest, to hell with subtlety in the presence of
his mother. If she truly believed that Tsuna was leaving halfway across the
world for school of all things, then he was pretty sure that she wouldn't even
catch on to the thickest of hints of the true nature of the trip.
A disapproving tsk from his mother however was enough to pause. "Tsuna! You
have clothes lying on the floor in your closet!"
He froze, his limbs locking on reflex. His mind raced back, back, back to that
night.
—
Quickly putting on his three-some sweaters and two-something sweatpants and
replacing his socks back on his feet, he gathered the scattered bits of
clothing he no longer wanted to look at. He stood awkwardly at the door before
opening it and was relieved to find nothing there. He was relieved, immensely
so, but he felt weaker for it. He focused on finding a way to get rid of them.
Perhaps he'd burn them later.
He threw the wet clothes at the bottom of his closet, unable to hold them
anymore.
—
His eyes were staring at the pile of rumpled clothes on the floor, but his
blood was pumping so fast, he didn't feel human at the rate the adrenaline shot
through his body. He forced his body to not spring across the room and grapple
at the clothing, as if it was a live animal filled with nefarious intentions on
harming his mother. How could he have been so foolish? How had he forgotten
about the evidence of that night, the damning proof of his spoiling?
He walked quickly over to Nana's side, as fast as he could go without appearing
too suspicious, and shooed his mother's hands away.
Bewildered, she obeyed and watched Tsuna gathered the scattered attire in his
arms, straightening out. "These are dirty. I'll take them to get washed."
Turning his heel, Tsuna didn't hear, or perhaps pretended not to hear, the
comments made left in his wake. He stumbled down the hall and then down the
stairs, becoming increasingly disorientated by the ailing rush of what holding
these disgusting, disgusting things gave him.
Tsuna didn't go to the laundry room like he said. He didn't want to wash them,
he wanted to be rid of them. He didn't think he could handle it being in his
house any longer than necessary.
He instead walked out the door in a split decision, clutching the bundle with
terrified desperation, barely remembering to close the door behind him.
He ran.
Ran, ran, ran away.
How could this be happening? The hole was opening up, the elephant in the room,
all the things he had been trying to ignore were surfacing at an alarming rate.
His blood was pumping too fast in his body, making it hard to think straight.
Terror and fear reared its ugly head towards him. Tsuna was so scared to the
point he felt as if he was going to collapse right there on the street and die.
He didn't even have the semblance of mind to think he was being melodramatic,
because it really felt too genuine to even think of it as pretense.
Tsuna did not know what he would have done if he hadn't been there to stop his
mother, to prevent her from touching the soiled articles. If he hadn't been
there to prevent his raison d'être, one of the only things he tried so hard to
keep innocent and pure, dirtying her hands on that, that evidence, that
infectious contamination. And if he had cared enough to be particularly
pessimistic, he would say that one touch would have revealed what transpired to
her son, what changed him to something inhumane. Revealed a reason to leave her
son.
The thought made him feel so nauseous, he had to stop and catch his breath,
suckling in air through erratic hitches.
He didn't bother with the shrine's steps, going straight up the dirt-padded
road with great difficulty and breathlessness on the steep incline. Tsuna
unceremoniously slammed into the front gate, knocking the wind out of himself.
The returning sound was deafening in close proximity, the rattle of iron
resonating up and down the metal balustrade.
It was, perhaps, this sound that alerted Hibari of his arrival. It would
explain the sudden warm familiar hands that grasped onto him and pulled him
inside. The same hands pushed him down onto the raised floor softly by his
shoulders, the back of his jeans meeting wood.
He was suddenly given an eyeful of Hibari, so close, he was searching for
visible signs that could explain what had happened to him. It occurred to him,
with wide eyes, that he should probably tell Hibari why he returned in such a
state, but his tongue was too thick to form proper sentences.
Tsuna wanted to reach out to grasp at Hibari's arms, but couldn't, when he
realized his hands were preoccupied in a death grip on the clothing.
At a flicker of comprehension in the older teen's eyes, Hibari began reaching
down towards the bundle.
Tsuna jerked away, pivoting his torso as to pull the clothes out of reach. "D,
Don't, don't touch it." He gasped, breathless.
The answering glower was intimidating. "Give them to me, Tsunayoshi." Was the
demand that came.
He shook his head, trying to crawl backwards, but was stopped by the push of
pale hands on his knees. "No, wait, wait, stop." He said through a small voice,
blinking through the filmy spots in his eyes. "It's dirty, you can't touch it."
He had a vague idea that none of what he was saying was making sense, but he
wasn't really in any condition to think or talk straight. Was he having an
attack? As long as his nose didn't start combusting in red, he hoped his power
of will would be enough to overcome it. He left his antibiotics in his bag at
home.
"Tsunayoshi," Hibari said again more firmly. Tsunayoshi, not herbivore, Sawada
or little animal. "You need to give those to me."
Tsuna shook his head, his unattractive wheezing growing louder, "N, No! I
can't, I can't give it to you, these, these clothes are from that night! I, I
was wearing this when he, when Pietro," A random thought came to him: he
realized that this was probably the first time he's said the man's name aloud,
"Just please, don't touch them, I don't w, want you to!"
His teeth were gritted as he tried to control the air coming in and out of him.
He talked nonsensically, "I don't want you to touch it, of all, all people, you
can't, because, just let me go, please, just," Tsuna yanked himself free,
turning to run so he could collect himself, to stop being panicky, shaky, fake.
But Hibari's hands were faster, and they grasped his upper arms, leaving no
room for escape.
He thrashed in his arms, still very conscious of the clothes. His mind raced
with self-loathing thoughts hitting him faster than he could keep up with,
making the world spin before him. The hands on his upper arms jerked slightly,
so Tsuna was forced to tilt his head back to stare face to face with his
captor.
Understanding began to seep into Hibari's expression, like he had taken witness
to a puzzle starting to piece together.
There was something resolute in the prefect's expression, something he hadn't
seen before sparked behind muted silvered eyes. The other's warming breath
fanned across his face, heating his cold body, but didn't unlock his limbs.
It wasn't the first time Hibari was physical with him during one of his
problems but the atmosphere of this hold was different.
Hotter.
And certainly more intense in comparison.
A strange thing happened next. His thought processes shut down in a single
motion, not caused by terrifying panic but because all Tsuna could feel were
heated lips against his. He felt tremors induced by what could only be
described as passion run through his body to electrify even his toes, its
starting point their connected mouths.
He didn't know when his eyes closed, or when he registered the feel of Hibari's
hand sneak up to grasp at the hair at the base of his neck. Another hand had
its thumb brush against Tsuna's cheek, pulling him closer and deepening the lip
lock. His hands fisted against his chest as everything he knew imploded and was
made new, and he felt he was drowning in Hibari's scent, his elegance in
everything he ever did.
Everything that was him intoxicated Tsuna like a drug and he wasn't sure that
he wanted to go to rehab for a fix. The warmth that radiated off of Hibari was
comforting before, but it must have been multiplied now because every place
where his skin met Hibari's felt singeing hot. It was so unbelievable, it had
to be some sort of hallucinogen.
Hibari was the one to break apart first. But just as he did, Tsuna realized he
hadn't been breathing.
He gasped in air belatedly, eyes flying open and wide.
Though he was still distracted by the lingering effects of their kiss,
realization smacked him where it hurt and the events leading up to it rushed
back in. Like water greedily taking up room in a newly dug hole. It flooded the
most of the fire, putting the hottest of the flames out abruptly.
It was quiet. It was awkward. He hadn't realized how much he had wanted that
until it happened. And now that it did, he was overwhelmed to the point he
didn't understand what to do with this revelation.
But he kissed Hibari. He kissed Hibari.
Warmth flooded his face, and blood rushed up his head for an entirely different
reason. Tsuna looked away, tucking his chin to his chest, staring unseeingly at
his feet.
It came to him like a bullet train passing a dazed onlooker. Was he infatuated?
Different emotions influenced by this realization came coursing in from many
different point of views and arguments within himself.
They continually flooded questions in abundance, throwing his world off kilter.
He never understood the exact definition of infatuation, his metaphors were
weak, his personifications of the idea even weaker. Imagination could only take
him so far because it was limited in emotional standards.
He couldn't even grant an acceptable portrayal of it, had only had a fair share
of unrequited adoration, he was only mortal. He never knew the embodiment of
mutual desire, so it gave no credit to what actions he should take to proceed.
He hadn't seen the point of the irrevocable nature of falling: uncontrolled and
almost natural. But that wasn't like this. He'd never felt anything more than
that, and the only affection he gained was from his family.
So, he surged up on his toes and his lips met Hibari's again.
They messed up this time, their teeth clacking together in the most painful
way, but it was the shared heat that kept them going, that fueled the fire and
alighted the passion that was regained almost immediately. They pursed their
lips shut, only because there was a mutual understanding that neither knew how
to do open-kisses. Despite the innocence of their action, it still seemed just
as personal and just as heated as any kiss with tongue.
Tsuna was the one to pull away this time, for he remembered that he needed to
breathe. "We're going to burn these." Hibari muttered suddenly, taking the
bundle of clothes from his limp hands.
Burn them? The clothes? Oh yes, because of that night, he had almost forgotten
about it, the night where Pietro – his mind went blank with pure petrification.
If realizing he was infatuated was similar to a bullet train passing him, an
entirely different scenario came to mind with inevitable adjoining thoughts.
Instead, he was the onlooker, only that train didn't pass him, but instead hit
him before he could blink, spilling his death all over the rail tracks.
No.
Reality had caught up to him, choking him with its cold hands and curling
around his body with a chillness that could have iced him over to the point of
frostbite. He staggered, feeling winded when the realization that he could not
have what he wanted dawned on him.
He would not allow it. No matter how much he wanted to love and be loved, he
could never have it. Tsuna would never allow himself to give that away, give
someone admittance, even if that someone was Hibari, to take all that he had
left.
His mind reached back, far back, months ago to the day he decided to take his
despair to the next level, the day he decided to become a monster.
His first cutting.
He remembered what he thought as he did it, he couldn't forget it even if he
tried. The reason why he did it.
—
Now that he was...was stained by Pietro, how could anyone ever want him?
Collapsing against the door, he realized how open and vulnerable he was out
here. He was truly alone. Eventually, if ever, the truth would come out, and
everyone would leave without a second thought. How could he protect his mom?
His friends? How could he become a leader, a boss of a mafia family? No one
would want him as Decimo, no one would follow him, a weak sniveling creature
that couldn't stop a man from...from raping him.
—
Something in him was tightening and growing rigid as a bow, stretching to great
tension as the silence grew.
But now, there was someone that wanted him, someone that was willing to kiss
him and hold him and take care of him. It was what he wanted, wasn't it? He
wanted someone to understand, to realize what he was going through, to put an
end to the fear and the hunger and the dirtiness.
And he could not let it happen.
On that day of his first cutting, he promised himself to never run after a
flying bird. Because they would not be able to meet halfway, between land and
air, and he had been selfish to think that there would be a chance he himself
would grow wings to join the bird. His head had been clouded, too elated to
understand the impossible. Unable to notice that one day the bird would need to
flap his wings to an unreachable destination.
And Tsuna would let him go.
Hibari was too good for him, too unaware of the true horrors that he had only
recently discovered because Tsuna had dragged it into the other's life. He had
been perfectly fine without Tsuna's complete involvement, and now, he was
inflicted too, cursed to be with and wanting to be with a pitiful shell of what
once was Sawada Tsunayoshi. He owed Hibari so much, entirely too much, that he
could not repay the debt. He didn't have enough to cough up the intended loan.
The Cloud Guardian deserved more, so, so much more. He deserved someone full
and healthy, someone who wasn't half of who he was. He didn't need someone that
pretended to be real, he didn't need Tsuna, he truly didn't, and he knew this
because Hibari had been more than content before he had come and ruined
everything for the both of them.
Hibari didn't know what he wanted, Tsuna told himself, and he was going to tell
him that.
At least there had been nothing triggering about a kiss, nothing that threw him
into a pit of ineffable despair. And he realized why after a moment: Pietro
hadn't kissed him. Small mercies.
He was interrupted to further think of this because the prefect moved his hands
to grasp at Tsuna's upper arms again, most likely alarmed by Tsuna's lack of
response at all. Hibari's eyes were filled with something like concern, and
Tsuna desperately wanted to give in, wanted to be selfish and just take this
good thing. But he resisted, rejected the feeling with all his heart and
strength.
So he was ready when Hibari ducked his head closer, trying to give him another
soft press of his lips. He raised his arm, effectively cupping the lower half
of his own face and used his other hand to push at the other's chest. He pushed
until the other got the hint and let go immediately, staring at him through
with what looked like hesitance, eyes uncomprehending.
Hibari didn't know what he wanted.
He was doing this for him.
He would appreciate it.
"This...this, was a mistake." Tsuna said.
The returning flinch was enough to tell him that it had done its job.
That kiss… was a mistake.
He had to fix it. It was the least he could do for him.
Tsuna pulled himself out of arms reach, step by step to the door, not taking
his eyes off the prefect. The pain of each step he took backpedaling away were
like fatal blows making tremors shoot up his legs and shake his knees.
"Goodbye, Hibari-san," he said, and pulled the door open and snapped it shut.
He didn't look back, despite the new, foreign flaring hurt that combusted in
his chest as he made that distance, chose that route. Tsuna prayed Hibari would
not run after him, because he wasn't sure he had the strength to resist now.
He made the line that couldn't be crossed, he put up the fence, the wall, he
dug the trench between them. Tsuna found himself in agonizing pain as he kept
making a step forward, despite his true desire to run back and beg to return, a
step away from the one person he truly honestly cared about. More than he
should have.
He tried to console himself, made an effort to reassure himself that they would
both move on. They would have nothing to do with one another because Tsuna
would keep it that way. Only Vongola boss and Cloud Guardian. That was their
real fate and it was inescapable, he knew that. So that was all they'd ever be.
But the painful fact remained: it was over. His raison d'être changed from his
mother to someone else without him noticing, and he had single-handedly severed
that bond. It was the worst death imaginable.
Tsuna kept his eyes forward. He had bags to pack.
Chapter End Notes
     raison d'être means reason for existing.
      
     AN: I don't like explaining the characters thoughts in a author note,
     because it feels like I didn't do a good enough job in writing it
     out. Though it's expected, I really don't want anyone to be angry at
     Tsuna. Just try to understand his feelings: he thinks that being with
     Hibari will only trouble the prefect more. And taking it to the next
     level means that he's really just giving himself up to bestiality
     again. He likes Hibari, but these feelings scare him. He's afraid.
     It's quite understandable.
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: Beta'd by simple-and-sweet, thank you for your thoughtful
     analysis and very amazing work!
     There are some spoilers for the Simon arc here, like a paragraph.
     Nothing too big. There's also some familiar faces here. I wanted to
     include them, however irrelevant they were.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When Tsuna returned home, he was told that he had been pulled out of Namimori
Middle. He was listed as 'graduated' like both Gokudera and Yamamoto, but they
all knew it was only due to some strings pulled by Reborn. He hadn't realized
that when he went into rehabilitation that it was his last day of school. This
thought saddened him, but Tsuna knew that this development was in his favor.
He didn't think he would be able to handle going back to school, ever. This was
something to rejoice over, to be grateful for the smallest of mercies. It was a
perfect way to loosen the connections, to distance himself from Hibari and make
things easier for the both of them. And yet, he felt nothing but empty. It was
a cliché thing to say he was heartbroken, but that was what he really was.
Tsuna wondered if Hibari knew about his double-meaning farewell. Or if he also
helped pull some strings to drop him out too.
He swallowed against the lump in his throat, absolutely resolute in his
decision. He had to be firm in his desires.
He was to leave tomorrow, five in the morning. Reborn was not letting him
sleep, already trying to drill Italy's waking hours through his head before
landing. So Tsuna was left staring at the wall, multitasking with trying and
failing to read his comics and ignoring the infant in the bare room with him.
He was still very angry at the baby, so much that he couldn't even look at him.
Though many times through the night, he tried to be optimistic and label it an
opportunity, his heart was telling him that this was a tragic misfortune.
Things weren't meant to be like this, but it was happening anyway.
He wondered if Hibari was sleeping. He looked at the clock with tired, tired,
tired eyes. Four in the morning. It was time to get going. So without a word,
they began to pick up their things, trudge quietly downstairs and load the bags
in the airport taxi. He didn't fight it, didn't wish to. This was what he
wanted, he supposed.
—
The airport was a small, sad affair. Gokudera and Yamamoto looked strangely
somber. So he tried to act the part of the attentive best friend and raised
their spirits with an easy smile and an even easier softening of his eyes.
Yamamoto's dad was not there, and Tsuna felt very sorry to have been the one to
have ruined another life by taking his only son away from their own country.
His mother was crying, of course she would, and she held Tsuna tightly in her
arm's embrace the entire trip there. The final hug was somewhat a relief,
because he felt that one more touch from his mother, he would just break down
and tell her the truth. That was an impossible feat to repeat though, so he
could only stare at the pink pale cloth of her shirt on her shoulder and think
of what ifs and could haves and I wish I could stay.
But he knew he couldn't. So he left her with an assured smile, trying to push
all the confidence he had to his expression and his posture. He held himself
high, trying to meet the eyes of everyone straight on. Of course, he acted the
part albeit grudgingly, everyone knew how much he loathed leaving Namimori.
"Take care of yourself," Nana said through watery eyes and a tight embrace, "Be
safe." She added lastly, almost belatedly. Tsuna wondered at that moment if his
mother knew more than she let on. Ironic she would say that, when in the
following four months here he hadn't been anything but. In fact, he was the one
endangering himself. But she didn't need to know that. No one did.
He tried not to feel paranoid by this seemingly innocent gesture, but it still
left a burning imprint on his mind. An old scar flared messily behind the
shambles of his goodwill.
"I'll be fine," Tsuna only said, and he realized as he spoke it, it wasn't a
promise.
He couldn't promise anything anymore.
—
Despite his earlier comments about being so tired, Tsuna was not able to sleep
a wink during the entire flight. The sounds of the engine and propellers made
him think that he would go deaf. Restlessly, he looked at the other passengers.
They were leaning comfortably against their seats in the darkened cabin of the
plane, resting heads on their pillows and snoring away with no care in the
world.
It wasn't that the noise bothered Tsuna, though it was very loud and
intolerable, it was the marvel of realizing that he had left Namimori without a
word to anyone other than his family. He hadn't said goodbye to his classmates,
to his teachers, to Kyoko or Ryohei. He only hoped that Chrome was okay, and
took care of herself while they were gone. Perhaps Reborn had informed the
other Guardians about his early leave to Italy. The baby was everything if not
a bit too meticulous.
He supposed he was lucky to have at least given a goodbye to Hibari himself. At
the memory of this, he shrunk into his seat.
He had to do it, he told himself fervently, don't beat yourself up over
something you had to do.
His heart was palpitating from lack of sleep and he'd been awake for seven
hours straight and still hadn't managed to take a decent nap. His throat felt
dry and his head felt like it was being pounded with stones, it only coupled
with his stomach trying to cave itself in. He could do with a drink but all he
really wanted was sleep.
He made his choice, and that was to walk along side his shadows and the
monsters living under his bed. There were really no such thing for repentance
for victims like him, how could he ever make things right? No, he couldn't and
it was too late for him, but it was never too late for Hibari. Forced
defilement was something irreversible.
Tsuna tried to distract his mind by looking out the window, thankful to have
been given the window seat. All he could see was infinite darkness and gray
cotton-like clouds. That observation didn't quite deviate his thoughts from the
prefect and he winced delicately. He settled with trying to pretend he was
alone and not packed like sardines with the other forty-some passengers on the
plane.
It was a blessing that he wasn't on the aisle seat, for the worst of the
heavyset men amongst them bumped constantly and innocently at Gokudera's elbow,
who became increasingly irate by the minute. The teen wondered briefly if he
could take having direct contact with men now, but after a moment's thought, he
knew the answer was a big no. The thought still made him want to throw up. The
constant fear was beginning to make him think that he would never get used to
this accursed apprehension.
He closed his eyes and felt the commercial jet quiver each time they passed
through an air pocket. He anxiously gripped the arm-rests of his seat, telling
himself that if he believed hard enough, he would fall into a dreamless sleep
and forget everything.
Tsuna thought about anything and everything that wasn't Pietro, the huge wide
hands and the bruise making kicks that colored his body black and blue for
months, though the worst stayed longer over time than the littlest ones did.
Relying on his other senses than sight made things seem amplified, and he only
just realized the smell in the airplane which made him feel as ill as a
pregnant woman. He made a face and tried to breathe in deep but only made the
nausea worse. Ridiculous, how he felt that this was torture. One would think
after enduring such a hardship at the tender age of fifteen, he would have
become stronger through his faults, but no, instead he felt weaker and frail by
the devastating incident.
Also, the fact that this was his first time on a plane didn't help matters
either. As the plane took up, a shrill booming sounded in her ears, the captain
saying that they were now twelve thousand feel about ground, and he tried not
to think only a thin sheet of metal stood between him and certain doom.
He forced himself not to welcome that possibility either.
"Tsuna, are you okay?"
He turned to look at Bianchi, and with a start, he realized he hadn't notice
that her seat was next to his. Something was really wrong with his observation
skills.
"I'm alright," Tsuna returned with an uneasy smile and made a vague gesture to
his face, "It feels really stifling in here. I've never been on a plane
before." Although his statements were true, not a single lie present, the woman
still looked doubtful at his dismissal.
"Do you want some ginger ale?" She asked, already pivoting in her seat to look
for a stewardess, "It'll help your stomach."
"No, thanks." He shook his head, and insisted to both her and himself, "I'll be
fine."
—
He should have been at least fascinated by the fantastic view of the country's
broad daylight. Everyone else was eagerly leaning out of their seats to stare
out the small circular windows of the cabin. So he copied them and made an
effort to look curious, trying hard to pretend that he was interested by the
winding rivers and the stilted houses.
The closest commercial airport was Marco Polo Airport, on the mainland near
Mestre. It was close to a large body of water and made of fragile glass, and it
made Tsuna a bit queasy at the runway. The plane landed with more than a few
jarring of their teeth, forcing them to clench into the armrests with mirroring
uneasy expressions. Rough landing.
When the craft taxied itself, Gokudera was one of the first to clip his seat-
belt off and dig through the luggage compartments for their carry-ons. He
waited until Reborn and Bianchi slid out of their seats and walked on ahead,
their bags over their shoulders. His best friends waited for Tsuna to go in
front of him before following with Gokudera making small snipes at the
defective Yamamoto.
They made their way through the narrow alley, and Tsuna kept to himself,
touching no one.
It was sad, when he placed a foot on the concrete ground that he felt no sense
of adventure, no excitement for his new surroundings. He felt strangely
trapped. He should have probably felt excited to step out of the plane, to work
out the kinks of his body, but he felt no need for lethargic stretching. He
pretended to anyway, feeling foolish as he swiveled head and rolled his arms in
their sockets.
"Welcome to Mestre, Tenth." Gokudera said, smiling widely. "We'll be taking a
taxi ride though, so our stay shouldn't be too long." He had insisted on
carrying Tsuna's bags too.
He nodded, smiling excitedly at the uninteresting bright lights and shallowly
breathing in the almost too-clean air.
As they went through immigration, the officer behind the counter kept giving
strange looks at them. No doubt wondering why a bunch of preteens, obviously
two were oriental, were coming in from Japan along with a beautiful woman and
an oddly dressed infant. He was sure they caught many eyes as they passed
through. They put the luggage to be checked for any suspicious items. How
Reborn hid his mass assortment of guns, he really didn't want to know.
A part of Tsuna still could not believe he had ended up agreeing to go to
Italy. And he felt sleepy and tired. It most likely explained his dazed stare
at the walls of the airport of the situation, not because he felt empty and
lonely inside, of course not.
"It's going to be a long drive," Reborn told him as they walked out of the
departure terminal. "It'll take six hours to get to Venice."
He kept his attention focused on the television showing the various flights,
pretending that he hadn't heard him. He was still mad at Reborn.
The replying long-suffering sigh was enough to tell Tsuna that the baby got the
hint and left him alone for the time being. Thinking that letting him cool off
his steam and sulk in silence would break the cold-shoulder, most likely.
Their 'taxi' was not actually a taxi, but a black Mercedes from the airport
rental agency. Most likely on Reborn's orders, no doubt about that, judging by
the awfully nervous stare from their chauffeur.
Bianchi, with Reborn on her lap, sat next to the fearful driver. And Tsuna sat
between his friends in the back. The car was very spacious, enough that Tsuna
had gaps between him and his Guardians. He stared out the windows as they drove
off the drop-off area and onto a highway atop a bridge, surrounded by water.
"Venezia is ahead, sirs." The chauffeur spoke up meekly in heavily accented
Japanese, but then added hastily at Bianchi's sharp glance, "And lady. Would
you all like to stop by there first?"
"Sure." Reborn agreed after a moment. "We could use a little intermission."
Their eyes flickered to Tsuna, then away.
He knew, because Reborn had forced him to study up on Italy, that Venice was
one of the most interesting and lovely places in the world. It was called a
sanctuary on a lagoon for its wide romantic rivers and beautiful lights that
strung from house to house that were all on tall stilts in water. Apparently,
it was virtually unchanged since six hundred years ago, which gave it
fascinating character.
Tsuna watched the amass amount of foreign people littering the streets with
clicking cameras and he knew that he had probably seen an old picture of Venice
in his books. He thought the place would have been quiet and empty but instead
it was heavily touristed. He stared at the litter of bodies moving in the
familiar rhythm of laughter and had a vague understanding that the romantic
charm remained, however disturbed the town was over the years.
Tsuna sank back, closed his eyes, and tried to not think of anything at all.
—
"Let's go around in a gondola!" Gokudera said excitedly. No trip to Venice
would be complete without a punt down one of the city's picturesque waterways
in an iconic gondola. Flagging a rowman with a shout in quick Italian, the
silver-haired boy reached over to hand him the Euros. He allowed himself to be
pulled into the boat. It rocked dangerously. Yamamoto climbed in next, followed
by a very careful Bianchi holding Reborn.
Because the city was created on the Great Canal, the water ways had always been
the most used for transports. The Gondola, for its characteristics of
maneuverability and speed, had been, till the coming of the motorized means,
the boat most suitable to the people transport. The rowman muttered something
in Italian and with a kick to the wall, they floated away and started drifting
with the current.
The personal crooner turned on his lamplight, enveloping them in a soft yellow
glow. The night was falling on them rather quickly, the sky taking on a gray
color.
Despite the neatness of the situation, Tsuna felt no rise or excitement from
being on the boat. Though, he still kept up a farce that he did. He reached
over the side to run his hands in the water, feeling the cool liquid chill his
hand and up his arm and to his head.
He laughed when Yamamoto splashed a little at him with a flick of a tan hand
and laughed even harder when Gokudera began splashing the river water at their
tall friend back. The crooner was so mad at them, he was red in the face, but
due to the generous amount of Euros given to him, he chose not to say anything
against the rough-housing boys.
He laughed until his sides hurt. He laughed until his head hurt from hearing
his own laughter.
Thankfully, his pseudo-merriment was interrupted before it could sound too
strained. Tsuna jumped when he heard a rumble of metal. He looked up, confused
to hear a train in a seemingly water-dependent enviroment.
He shuddered, because he remembered his own analogy of a train only hours
before. Don't think about that, you were doing so well.
"That's Santa Lucia." Gokudera said, pointing across the waterway to a white
building. It stood impressive with it's beautifully etched stone carvings and
tall striking pillars. There were boats parked along the shore of this
building, and people piling out of their own gondolas. "It's Venizia's only
train station. It's connected with main cities such as Rome, Milan, Florence."
"I see." Tsuna said, staring at the tracks.
—
There was a bottle cap on the ground.
From an Italian brand beer called 'Birra Moretti'.
He stared at it for a moment.
And picked it up.
—
Their arrival was very quick.
Or maybe Tsuna had long since forgotten how to keep time. Everything seemed to
blur together now.
Blinking in the chilly air, he noticed the wrought iron gate that they must
have passed through while he was half-asleep. Its curves were backlit from the
streetlamps, dusted with clinging dew. They stepped out of the Mercedes and saw
the looming estate. Tsuna then knew that this was final. There was no going
back.
The sleek black car drove off, the driver more than eager to get away from the
dangerous bunch he spent in a car with for six long hours.
The start of Tsuna's life as a working member, no, boss of a foreign mafia
society dawned clear and bright. Ergo, he was no longer a student, no longer a
child that was free to ignore the reality of working class life and revel in
the fact that someone else was looking after him. He didn't feel any different
though, than he had hours before.
The mansion, or estate, God, it was big, was enormous in scale. It stood tall
with gray, almost white, stones and topped off it's long towers and slanted
roofs with blue ceramic shingles. The tall latticed windows topped it off,
leaving the manor look almost welcoming for an mafia HQ.
Yamamoto whistled lowly and squinted up at the tall structure and Gokudera
looked smug, as if proud to be a part of it. He didn't doubt it, actually.
"Is the mansion really necessary?" Tsuna muttered in discomfort. Though it was
ridiculous, he actually preferred the quiet solitude of the underground base in
the future. Or that could be him being biased, simply because it was located
under Hibari's grounds.
"Of course it is," Reborn replied blandly, "We have to keep up a good image."
The baby and Bianchi walked to the large wooden double doors and if Tsuna had
any nerves left to fray, he probably would have been annoyed. Instead, he felt
tired.
"Tsuna-nii!"
"Tsuna!"
He looked up to see a young boy darting to his direction closely followed by
two very small children. He recognized the flap of a striped scarf, the
trademark cow prints, and the squinted eyes that always stayed squinted. The
mousy-haired boy had grown slightly taller since he'd last seen him, but didn't
forgo the usual attire of his frumpy sweater and too-big slacks. "Fuuta!" He
called back in surprise. "Lambo! I-Pin!"
It had been so long since he'd seen them. He recalled them going off somewhere
in their own businesses. To his knowledge, Lambo went to visit the Bovino
family, he was still part of them, and I-Pin had been undergoing training in a
mountain range somewhere with her beloved master. But he hadn't known they were
staying here.
He flinched as Lambo immediately scrambled up his leg to perch on his shoulder,
pushing a finger to Tsuna's cheek. "Stupid-Tsuna, it's good you've come to join
me! As my underling, it's very irresponsible for you to have arrived late! You
deserve a punishment!"
Lambo's foot was digging into his shoulder painfully. He grimaced. "It's good
to see you too, Lambo." He muttered, glaring at the child as he batted the hand
away. He turned to I-Pin next with a fond smile, she stood next to Yamamoto,
who was patting her head affectionately. "I-Pin! How have you been?"
The Chinese girl smiled widely, "Good! Found great hiding places in castle!"
He laughed bemusedly in reply, and if he were to be honest, he didn't know if
it was fake. Only because I-Pin had referred to the greatest mafia famiglia's
base headquarters, which may or may not have the most innocent background, a
castle.
There was a white flash, and Tsuna blinked away the spots in his eyes.
"It's your first day at headquarters! Gokudera, Yamamoto, come closer
together." Fuuta said, pulling the device back to grin behind it at him. The
two did, for once, matching grins on their faces. Tsuna was trying hard to
compose his expression into something pleasant and he knew he failed when Fuuta
frowned and commented with concern, "Now smile, you look miserable."
Probably because I am.
Tsuna smiled with real effort to cover up that thought, a hundred watts, a
hundred watts, and studied the boy through upturned eyes. Fuuta had the ability
to be perceptive, but with Tsuna's longstanding habit as presenting himself in
the light of normalcy, he wouldn't acknowledge his observations as truth. The
corners of his lips turned up in amusement for real this time, the closest to
an actual smile he'd done all day. If his family had the sense to go with their
gut instincts, perhaps they would know what was wrong with him.
Which was good they didn't. Thank God for that.
"Jetlag. I'm not awake." Tsuna offered a weak excuse for his lack of enthusiasm
with a tired smile. At least that one was real. Just really tired.
"We have your room ready for you!" Fuuta spoke from behind the camera as he
snapped another picture, checking the preview with a satisfied nod. The boy
handed Tsuna the camera and the three of them looked at it. He grimaced.
The second picture was alright, Tsuna smiling at a hundred percent always
worked, but the first picture he looked so tired. He deleted that one quickly,
giving an excuse of, 'it makes me look bad', making Yamamoto laugh and Gokudera
vehemently deny that statement.
Normal.
Tired.
He allowed Fuuta to take his arm and drag him through the door. No one was at
the door to greet him, and for that Tsuna was grateful. He didn't think he
could handle forty-some suited men bowing to him as he entered like he saw in
stereotypical yakuza movies. Bianchi and Reborn long since disappeared into
their own respective rooms, most likely settling themselves in.
"I put your room with a nice view. And Gokudera's and Yamamoto's room are just
a little across from yours, I hope you're okay with that. I'm so glad you guys
are here. There aren't any other kids here but us, so we were getting a little
lonely." He listened to Fuuta's babbling attentively, but already felt himself
tuning the pitched voice out.
God, he was so tired.
They clambered up the stairs like naughty children. And Tsuna forced his
laughter to remain light-hearted and his smiles wide, a hundred watts, a
hundred watts.
"Do you want anything from the kitchen? Or would you rather go to your room?"
Fuuta asked, belatedly, as if just realizing his eagerness and trying to make
up for it by being considerate to the guests—permanent residents, now.
Tsuna thought about it for a moment, everyone looking at him as if he knew the
answers. See, his mind told him, look how much they depend on you, that's why
they can't know about how much of a disappointment you really are.
He really needed a shower. "To my room sounds nice." Tsuna said with a polite
tone of voice. He barely stifled the yawn that fought to escape, and they
noticed it, likewise fighting their own smiles.
They went through halls made mostly of hardwood that had runners of dark red,
blue, sometimes brown carpet up the middle. They passed many entrances to
several other wings, but he was grateful to see that Fuuta didn't waste time
explaining them. Most doors were closed, and it was eerily quiet in the halls.
Once or twice, he could see eyes peering out at them behind half-open doors.
Gokudera glared at them until they shut, like clams.
After walking up a flight of stairs and down more corridors for several
minutes, Tsuna revised his mental estimate of how large the place was. Yamamoto
was complimenting the extravagant decor when, finally, they reached a hall
wherein the heavy doors were more spread out, giving the impression the rooms
were larger, and the light came from old-fashioned sconces set into the walls
rather than overhead lights.
"This is your room now, Tsuna-nii." Fuuta said, "We just made your bed and
supplied the essentials in the bathroom. And I made sure to put your key in the
dresser. In case you want to lock your room when you're out. It locks from the
inside too."
"Thanks, Fuuta." He said, placing his bag on the patch of empty floor next to
the door and the standard straw-weaved laundry basket.
Tsuna took in the room slowly. The furnishings were sturdy, yet elegant and
included a bed, dresser, nightstand, desk with matching dark wood of the floor.
The bed was bigger than what he was used to, but he knew he would adapt to it
quickly. Its blankets were a nice shade of dark khaki, etched in gold designs.
The walls were a light color, and the two large windows curtained with dark
blue looked nice against the brown of the room.
When they finally, finally left him alone, he didn't explore the room. He was
so tired that he didn't have the semblance to lock the door. He didn't even
look out the window at the thoughtful 'great view' Fuuta had given him.
All he could think about was the path life had left for him. He could not slip,
not anymore. He could not afford to. He could not help but think of the times
where he had so willingly allowed them into danger, where he had felt that they
were a value to the battle, under choice of course. But now, they were more
than that, and Tsuna was in a different kind of battle, one that made his
friends a necessity.
One he could not afford to lose.
No one was going to leave you, calm down, he told himself.
But he left. He left Hibari. And for that, he felt like such a hypocrite.
Tsuna sat on his bed with his head in his hands.
He could do this.
—
"Mom?" Tsuna said into the phone.
"Tsuna!" Was the most pleased voice that returned over the receiver. "Oh good,
are you there with your father now?" He was relieved to hear her sound so
happy. She was still blissfully unaware, then.
He didn't hesitate when he answered. "Yes. He's gone for work most of the time
though." He said, twisting the cord in his hands.
"When did you get there?" She asked, "Tell me all about it. How was the
airplane food? Last time I had some, couldn't say I liked it very much."
A morbid thought crossed his mind. What if he told her now, in the middle of
this phone conversation? Would she even believe him? She was so paradoxical of
her concern towards him at times, so if she didn't, it wouldn't surprise him.
"It was ok," Tsuna lied. He couldn't even remember the taste of it at all. "We
got here a few hours ago actually, just wanted to let you know I got here." Why
was talking to his mom so awkward? It was his mom, for God's sake, and he tried
to pull himself together. "We rode on a gondola down the great canal in
Venice." Tsuna added lastly, almost pathetically.
By the elation of her voice, she hadn't noticed the smallness of his own. "Oh
that sounds exciting! I have to say, it would have been nice to go to Venice.
Your father and I went to Florence for our honeymoon."
"I see," Tsuna says. He looks Gokudera, who is mutely making apologizing
gestures at him. "Listen mom, I got to go, I'll call you again later, okay?
When is a good time?"
"Sure, okay! Uhm, it'd be nice to hear from you every other day or so." There
was a strange pause there that makes him wonder what she was thinking at that
moment. "I love you Tsuna." She then added lastly, "Be safe!"
He considered for a moment.
"I love you too." He says. "I'll be fine."
He hangs up.
—
The next morning was one of slight newness that he was sure was shortly going
to become a novelty. They all had breakfast in the dining room, which was
scarily large and stretched wide with towering windows that brightened the room
to a blinding level. The breakfast was supposedly delicious, if the other
diners' pleased smiles were any indication. He pretended to like it too, but
found that he couldn't remember what tasted good or bad. Food was a sustenance
for him, a necessary thing. He really couldn't find the patience in food
anymore
Timoteo, as ever kind in the eyes, greeted him in the morning. He apologized
very sincerely for not having been the one to greet him when he arrived. Fuuta
pouted a bit at this, but was reassured by the elderly man that he did a
wonderful job without them.
They discussed the following days, months, years in his new home.
His new home.
He nodded and asked questions at the right times at Reborn, who he now has
grown mildly irritated instead of raging mad, ("Hiii, What do you mean I'll
learn how to shoot a gun!" To which Reborn replied, "Just as it sounds.") and
Timoteo laughed in that grandfatherly way of his that usually warmed Tsuna's
core. His insides remained empty and cold now, however.
He realized distinctly, that he hadn't seen Timoteo since before Pietro had,
had, well he hadn't seen the Ninth since. He wondered if the older man could
see right through Tsuna, he was always perceptive like that. If he noticed
anything wrong with him however, the other didn't voice it. Which was just as
well. One less problem to worry about.
—
"When you graduate, we can go take a trip somewhere!"
Tsuna smiled through the receiver. "That sounds good." A lie. But he would go
with her, really only because he loved his mom.
"How about going to the beach? It's been so long since all of us have been
there."
He doesn't have the heart to tell her he can't. His scars would show. He had
long taken out the sutures and now all that was left was patches of skin that
was lighter than the rest. He still hadn't thought of a good excuse for their
existence. "That sounds good." He said anyway.
"We could go back to your school if you like," Nana suggested, completely
oblivious to his less-than-creative responses, "I don't think it's changed
much, but maybe it'd be nice to see the campus."
"That sounds good."
—
He came in contact with Enma, who was now rebuilding his own family in
Florence. They planned on meeting soon, discussing Tsuna's second attempt at
inheritance. It was still a touchy subject amongst the Simon and Vongola
families, all because of how the last one was rather rudely interrupted by the
former party.
He really was ready to take on the position. Apparently, according to Timoteo,
he'd passed everything he needed, and more. The Ring Conflict was done. He and
the External Advisor already settled their different opinions on the rightful
successor. He was pretty sure Xanxus was still not happy with the outcome. The
Succession Trial was done, with Hibari's help, long ago. He shook that thought
off, his throat catching.
All he had left was to actually complete the Inheritance Ceremony. The Vongola
famiglia was pretty known to be a far-reaching influence worldwide, so he
expected to see other famiglias from all over the world once more. It was just
a trick of surviving the ceremony, to avoid the assassinations and the
preventions, again.
He sighed. And for some reason, he thought of trains.
—
"Or we could always take the express way. You haven't been on a commercial
train, right, Tsuna?"
"Not yet."
—
Tsuna supposes that best of all, his relationship with his friends hadn't
changed at all since their leave. Yamamoto still thought Tsuna was amazing and
treated him as a very close friend. Although he was rather naive about what was
really happening sometimes, Yamamoto was devoted and loyal to Tsuna. He fought
for him, protecting him above all else. It fueled Tsuna's need to protect him
back.
He was now becoming active in the weapons department, with the encouragement
from Lal Mirch, and Yamamoto would lose himself in the racks and racks of
equipment. He was apparently becoming more interested in Box Weapons.
Gokudera was still incredibly loyal to him, still becoming hostile towards
individuals who he viewed as hurting or discrediting the Tenth. Tsuna was still
often flustered by Gokudera's enthusiasm towards him, but saw him as a true
friend. But he did find it amusing how he was still extremely enthusiastic
about mafia activities, training or becoming stronger for the 'glory of the
Tenth' or the Vongola.
Sometimes, he found himself humoring him, and he asked Gokudera to do mundane
things for him at times. As to help ease the nervous tic the taller teen
developed when ever he called his name.
Sometimes, he did it so Gokudera would leave him alone.
And he felt horrible for it each time, but sometimes the tiredness would become
so overbearing he needed a few minutes to breathe without pretending. Keeping a
false pretense up on a daily basis was tiring. And he didn't want his friends
to watch him break when it became too much. He still wanted to be seen as a
strong person in their eyes. It was a casualty from the war inside.
He had to continue his tutoring with Reborn, although with less books than the
norm and more guns than usual. Basil was there sometimes, occasionally taking
over for Reborn.
There was surprisingly a lot of paperwork for a mafia boss. Fuuta was teaching
him the importance of the norms and etiquette of meeting other Famiglia bosses
through such paperwork. Usually, those rare gatherings ended in disaster only
because Lambo liked to ruin things for him and I-Pin likewise tried to steer
the cow-printed boy out of trouble.
He still hadn't seen his dad, but that was somewhat expected.
Tsuna was clumsy as ever, and tripped over his shoes and pant's legs like he
normally did. He forgot to leave the water running on purpose. He deliberately
missed his mouth when he spooned in food, just so he could appear normal in
others' eyes.
He did these things so they wouldn't see past the two left feet and notice the
broken fifteen year old that laid half-dead in a dim alleyway. So they wouldn't
see the tall man standing vehemently over him, or the older teenager with
gunmetal hair that tried fruitlessly to pick up what was left.
Tsuna thought of trains and bottle caps and showers more often than he liked
lately.
—
His memory of hours were blurring together to the point he sometimes didn't
know the time of the day, the day of the week. It became so obscure, that time
itself had become something of unimportance, a passing in the continuous tedium
of his life. He was so tired.
The days turned into weeks.
The weeks turned into months.
He told himself that if things got really bad, he would reach for help. If he
became so broken, he would come out and tell them everything. And he tells
himself this everyday.
And a year passed, just like that.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: Ah. Damn. This chapter was hard to write. I had to do a lot of
     research on Venice and Mestre, seeing as I never been to either city
     myself. I also have a good grasp of when this story ends. I'd say in
     about three or four chapters. That's right, Bestialized is reaching
     its conclusion!
     Thank you for reading, you're all wonderful people! This fandom is
     amazing.
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: What is this magical non-chronological order! Okay, so this
     chapter is pretty much the birth of 'Foundation', the canon original
     group that serves under Kyoya Hibari, its core members being people
     from the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee. They travel around
     the world studying and researching Box Weapon technology.
     Just a little help. Because I didn't even know what Foundation was
     until I researched it. There's not much information on it though, so
     this is some speculation on my part on how it came to be, where it
     got its name. Why the hell did Hibari name his group 'Foundation'
     anyway? I had expected it to be badly named like 'Hi-Corps' or
     something stupid like that LOL.
     This was a very angsty chapter. But then again, how are any of my
     chapters not angsty? I'm the queen of angst too!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Desire pooled at the bottom of his stomach, his head filled with so much heat
he felt he had a fever. Wandering hands that were smaller than his own slid up
his chest, feeling him through his shirt, sending sparks down his spine and
meeting the pads of his toes. They ran through his hair, fisting them in
handfuls experimentally.
Sorrel brown eyes stared heatedly at him, mouthing words into his cheek, soft
breaths fanning delicately across his face. There was a weight on his lap,
something sinfully soft pressing at his kneecaps. The hands continued running
through his hair, and he growled softly in warning when he sensed the innocent
exploration turn into something akin to teasing.
A soft chuckle, warm air exhaling. The hands stopped, but then slid to his
shoulders, pressing him backwards onto his back.
Lips met his.
He closed his eyes, feeling the weight on him, the pressure of the other's face
against his. Hibari's hands reached up, fingering the lapels of Tsuna's shirt,
before his fingers began to lithely open it. Button after button, oh so slowly,
the light complexion revealing secrets he didn't know he wanted until now. The
olive skin beneath his fingers quivered at his slightest touch, as if it was
overwhelmed by such a simple graze. He kept his fingers light against the
others collarbone, reaching around to the small of his shuddering smooth back.
When his lips met his again, Hibari jerked awake.
Eyes wide, he laid there for a moment staring at the ceiling above him, where
Tsuna should have been in the sequence, staring down at him with an alluring
tilt of his lips. Slowly sitting up, he put his hands over his head, peeking
through his hair at the slumbering teen next to him. He could barely make out
the other's face in the darkness and his blindness was coupled by the shock of
his dream, but the familiar strands of brown hair against the stark white of
the pillow was very recognizable.
And he realized for a moment, with a grimace, that heat stilled curled in his
insides and his pants were tented. He hated feeling like this, and as a young
teenager, it was supposedly natural. Hibari brought his knees to his chest,
willing the desire to shove off and surrender to pure will.
He did not wish for it, and yet, he couldn't help human functions. What made it
so much worse was that he was fantasizing about such things, and yet he knew
fully well how incredibly evasive Tsuna was to the idea of touch, much less
intercourse. It was best to keep these ideas, these feelings to himself. If he
knew just how much Hibari wanted him, even just a margin, he would leave. He
didn't want to scare away the teen unnecessarily. It would not do to have the
other avoid him, especially if he wanted to keep him near.
Hibari thought of the extra chair at the table, the added amount of laundry,
the pair of sneakers that were not his at the entrance, and the living body
next to him.
An uncharacteristic shudder ran through him, and he sank back down to sleep.
Because a single thought came over him: what if they were gone again?
—
"What is this stuff?" Tsuna asked, poking a finger to tug open a precariously
ajar drawer filled with silverware before pushing to snap it closed. The
russet-haired teen swiveled to look uncertainly at him, as if wondering if he
asked an insensitive question. Silly, small animal.
Hibari met the uncertain gaze with open amusement. "Articles the Disciplinary
Committee confiscated over time," he said.
He didn't know what was so fascinating about his war spoils. He wouldn't say
'war spoils' aloud, but if he did, he was fairly certain that Tsuna would find
the terminology terribly humorous. He wondered if it would make the shorter
teen smile. The smiles have become something more than a short novelty he was
unused to. At first, it had been somewhat of an infrequent reward, but
eventually Hibari learned to see the upturned tilt of those lips as a natural
thing and he expected no less in his presence.
He likes it, he realizes quickly, to see the younger male smile.
Smiles were never thrown in his direction so naturally before. It was common
for Hibari to see smiles, but most were nervous, scared even. Others could be
labeled as condescending, knowing, only made to generally infuriate him. But
Tsuna's smiles were different, because they had no hidden message, no under-
the-table trickery. It was open, it was bright, it was nice.
He liked it, he realizes very quickly.
So revealing his confiscated agglomeration was somewhat a trick of his own,
just to see the spark of fascination or the beaming expression from the other.
He watched Tsuna rummage about the room curiously, the dim light making him
look even more appealing than usual and he thought: he could do this forever.
It was a very alarming thought, and it was one that should have alerted him to
the dangerousness of their relationship. But he disregarded the flags coming up
and instead followed the smaller teen around the room, commenting on the things
he questioned.
He was very talkative, and he seemed to look a lot better than he had before
Hibari had come along. He wasn't as pale anymore, and his skin took on his
natural tawny hue before the, he paused here to suppress the instinctive
seething, assault.
Eventually, Tsuna did approach the area Hibari has been cautiously eying their
entire time here. Hands on knees, Tsuna's eyes rove curiously through the
cluster of molding instruments that he had seized from the Classical Band club
for their constant disruption of his timely naps.
An expected reaction, when Tsuna saw the Tupperware containing the bottle caps,
he froze. Unconsciously, he stilled mid-breath, but then collected himself when
he realized what he was doing and released silently from his nose. He already
felt the oppressing silence upon Tsuna's inopportune discovery. It irritatingly
amused him, almost, to see that the younger teen tried to back away, as if not
wanting to be caught in the act. Like a child uncovering a birthday gift meant
for him later.
He deliberately let Tsuna walk back into him, eyebrow raised. The shorter male
spun around in turn, his cheeks paling when their eyes met. Although it was
quite obvious the other wasn't interested in the bottle caps anymore, something
inside him twitched with annoying warmness at the thought of the other worrying
about what he would think of it.
He looked past Tsuna to stare at the caps grimly. The teen had been so happy,
and because of one man, he had resorted to extremes such as harming himself.
But at what cost? There must have been a reason why he did it. There was no
doubt in his mind the other knew it was wrong. He thought of the shame-colored
flush covered in green moss, but it hadn't stopped him from trying time and
time again.
"Where did you get the idea from?" Hibari's own voice cut into the silence.
Dazed, as if also in deep thought, Tsuna blinked back at him in reply.
"Those." Hibari repeated, pointed to the bottle caps. "Where did you get the
idea from?"
He watched the conflict in the other's eyes. More silence before the younger
teen bit his lip and kept his eyes to the floor and answered, "I was walking
home, and I saw it and picked it up." The shorter of the two's gaze drifted to
the Tupperware. His eyes were distant and unseeing as he remembered. "I suppose
that, it, the idea came to me when I squeezed it too hard. They were really
sharp..." He trailed off, it was increasingly obvious he wished not to delve
into details.
Not that Hibari would like to hear it, he was already clinging to control by
the fibers of a thread. So it had been by chance. If it had been planted into
his head by an exterior force, he didn't think he could repress the rising
vendetta towards the man much longer.
He watched Tsuna erupt into a face-breaking smile when he pulled out the soccer
ball, and although outside he only stared blankly in reply, inside he was
forcibly holding the annoying, irritating need to smile back.
—
He shifted the weight to his other foot. He hated how hard it was to propose.
He repeated with clarity, "Do you wish for me to accompany you." Not a
question. He would not go that far. He could not in his life understand why he
found it necessary to find consent when he'd been so used to doing anything
but. It was almost laughable how he felt the benign need to ask for permission
of all things, to accompany the other back to the Sawada residence.
Tsuna opened his mouth to give an automatic reply, but thinking better of it,
he only smiled and said, "No thank you. It'll be quick."
The aggravating anxiety rose at this answer, not liking the idea of the other
going home by himself. But Hibari knew he had to at least trust the herbivore
to do this much by himself. Especially if he made the decision on his own. This
was supposed to have been a gratified result, proof that he was functional once
again and yet he felt uneasy.
Despite the contrary of the protesting flags that rose at the idea, the prefect
nodded, keeping his face especially blank.
Feeling apprehensive, Tsuna raised a hand. It gave a little wave. And he turned
to retreat down the dirt path.
It was an awkward goodbye. But the promise of returning hung firm in the air
between them.
He watched until Tsuna's back was no longer visible around the earthen mound.
He resisted the urge to follow after, as had become habit. He walked back
inside, slamming the door open and closed behind him. For a moment, he only
stood there with his arms crossed, staring at the floor at his feet. The house
was clean. Food was ready, awaiting for them to unwrap the saran wrap as they
always did. He had done the laundry the day before. There was truly nothing
else he could do except wait for the other's return.
He gritted his teen in aggravation, wondering why this was such a problem. He
had been perfectly fine with the quiet halls, the lack of extra shoes at the
entrance before. The extra chair shouldn't have bothered him as it should have.
The blatant absence of Tsuna's duffel bag was not supposed to have disquieted
his state of mind.
So he sat in the living room, staring at the lone soccer ball in the middle of
the space.
He curled his fingers at the thought of the smiles, the soft sounds of their
kicking earlier that day. He glanced out the rice-papered door to see the sun
filtering in an orange hue through the trees, throwing him in a dim light.
He didn't jump when he heard a knock, only blinked. For a moment he thought it
was Tsuna, but Kusakabe revealed himself, his black gakuran billowing like a
shadow to his steps as he stopped in front of Hibari, bowing lowly. "Kusakabe."
Hibari muttered, uncrossing his arms.
"Good evening, Kyou-san." Kusakabe greeted, head lowered, before he lifted his
eyes to meet his. It was one of the few evenings he had ever seen Hibari in
casual clothes, even on weekends, as he never forewent his school attire. The
pompadour man looked around the room with a quick glance and asked curiously,
"Where is Sawada?"
"Out." Was the curt reply, and Hibari rose to his feet and began walking to the
kitchen. "And your business?" Kusakabe had been there earlier, but for him to
come twice a day was rather odd. It was a silent agreement between the two of
them that his visits were strictly to stay as a necessity, as to avoid conflict
with Hibari's personal space, which, admittedly, ran on very little patience.
A somber stare met his glare. "Kyou-san, I think it would be to your interest
to know that there has been an alarming development that has happened in your
absence."
"Concerning?" The head prefect asked deftly, pulling a chair out to sit on.
Kusakabe did not take Tsuna's chair, but that was what he preferred anyway. He
stood at attention as he spoke. "I have been informed that Yamamoto Takeshi and
Gokudera Hayato have been pulled out of enrollment. They are listed as
'graduated'. I came to inquire if you knew about it."
Curious. And yes, he agreed, alarming. Why were they dropping out? He knew
Yamamoto Takeshi, he never purposely caused problems for the committee, but
Gokudera Hayato, on the other hand, had numerous accounts of records that went
against disciplinary code. But to drop out, well that certainly changed some
things. "And why did you find this relevant to me?"
"I," Kusakabe paused, hesitant, "Those two are known to be Sawada's friends.
Best friends, even. I had thought, perhaps you had them-,"
"Do not assume, Kusakabe. That is not your job." Hibari's returning icy gaze
made him think twice about finishing. How dare his second-in-command think he
was jealous enough, or at all, to resort to under-the-table methods. If he had
truly wanted them gone, he would have beaten the two black and blue, not
indirectly suspend the other Guardians. No, he wouldn't do that. Those two were
important to the herbivore, he understood that much. It would only earn Tsuna's
distrust of his company, not to mention, there was that possibility of him
leaving because of it.
No, he would never do that. So if he hadn't, who had? "And who authorized
this?"
At the accusing stare, the towering teenager laughed nervously, "It wasn't me,
sir. Kouchou did."
"The principal?" Hibari's eyes narrowed even further. It wasn't often Kouchou
did anything without consulting him first. "Is there anything else?" He asked
almost distractedly, willing the other to go away so he could think more into
this.
Surprisingly the opposite answer came, "Yes," Kusakabe said, reaching in the
inside of his gakuran and deep into the black expanse of its pockets. He
retracted something small and cubic. He held it out to Hibari. "I confiscated
this today. From a student, number 07453228." Hibari's mind clicked as he fell
into his great memory, plucking the name like an apple off a tree. 07453228.
Sugawara Shiromatsu. Male. Year two.
This wasn't a toy, Hibari realized as he took it from Kusakabe, bringing it to
eye level. This was...
"This is a box weapon." He said finally, and even his own ears could pick out
his surprised tone of voice.
"Yes." Kusakabe said grimly. "It is a box weapon. And this is the first I've
seen a student besides those involved with Vongola in possession of one on
school grounds. This, sir, this could be something we never prepared ourselves
for. This is dangerous."
His mind raced, and he felt suddenly sick from the rate possibilities and
variables beginning to show themselves. It was true, they hadn't given thought
of anyone in the student body with box weapons or rings. At least he wasn't the
only one alone who understood the consequences of this development. Kusakabe
also had memories of the future. He resisted the urge to shudder at the thought
of the environment the school had been in then. He had thought it was too early
for that, he hadn't expected time to advance on them so quickly.
"What should our course of action be?" Hibari asked, glancing through his hair
up at the stiffened committee member.
"That, I am sorry to say, I am not quite sure." The pompadour teen muttered. "I
suppose I will keep confiscating if I see them, but I cannot guarantee any more
than that. We need you, Kyou-san." Both of them were uncomfortable by the
aspect of dangerous weapons on campus. They already had their hands full with
the constant commotion Vongola often brought, like a shadow to a man. Conflict
with mafia activity was inevitable with one of Namimori's students secretly a
young boss.
"Then you are dismissed." Hibari said, realizing that Tsuna would be back any
moment soon. He didn't want too much interaction between his subordinate and
the returning teen.
With a low bow, Kusakabe stepped back, snapping the door closed behind him. He
saw himself out, as he always did.
But dread piled up from the new information given to him, and he wasn't sure
what to make of it. He hated the feeling of ambiguity, of not knowing what the
future held. Worse was that he had been to the future, saw and breathed it
himself, and yet still could not be satisfied with what he had experienced.
That future was not going to happen, they had made sure of that, but change was
incoming fast.
Change was happening, and he didn't know how to handle it.
He supposed he could do what he always did. Adapt. Or force things to go his
way. But was that what he wanted? Normalcy?
Hibari snapped out of his reverie as he heard something very loud. It was the
sound of metal, reverberating through the quiet of the manor like a gunshot.
Something had hit the fence, with force by the sounds of it. Immediately, he
stood up, walking quickly to the front door and pulling it open.
His eyes widened.
Tsuna was slumped over the black iron wrought, limp-limbed and in obvious pain.
He was sliding to the floor quick, but Hibari was faster and he grabbed the boy
by the shoulders. He supported the others weight as he guided, almost dragging,
the smaller teen back inside. There was no time for a proper chair so he pushed
Tsuna onto the raised wooden floor, kneeling in front of the other.
"What happened?" He asked in a hard tone, shaking him lightly by the shoulder,
trying to meet eyes and failing. Although they were looking at one another, it
was obvious Tsuna was not really registering his presence. He tried again,
"Where are you hurt?" It was like speaking to a doll made out of meat for all
the response he was rewarded with.
A chill went down his spine. It was as if he wasn't even there, the other was
so preoccupied by some unknown terror that he hadn't even noticed Hibari
speaking to him.
He took in all visible symptoms, trying to find the source of pain, but it was
a lost cause. He realized quickly that it wasn't physical, but something he
could not reach; it was inside, a mental battle only Tsuna could see. The
thought of something he couldn't fix perturbed him so he tried to gain the
others attention with more fervor.
He shook him harder, and finally, a spark of recognition seemed to flash
through sorrel eyes at his ministrations. They widened in their sockets, his
mouth opened, but no words came out. Tsuna jerked suddenly, as if trying to
reach out to him once more, a notion he had become accustomed to.
But then olive skinned hands stopped, and reached back to clutch desperately
onto a bundle at the other's chest he only now just noticed. It was clothes?
Though that had been Tsuna's original intentions when he had left, to retrieve
some spares, it still didn't explain this sudden state of mind.
He didn't particularly like how they were getting more attention than him, so
Hibari reached at it with intentions to pull it out of the way, but Tsuna
jerked suddenly, pivoting his torso to move the scattered attire out of reach.
"D, Don't, don't touch it." He finally managed to speak out in a gasp,
breathless by just a single three-worded sentence.
What was wrong with them that he couldn't touch them? Frustrated by the lack of
explanation, at the loss of what to do, he demanded, "Give them to me,
Tsunayoshi."
But Tsuna shook his head, moving to turn away from him, but Hibari pushed his
hands onto the other's knees. The reaction was instantaneous at the contact
this time, "No, wait, wait, stop," he said through a small voice, blinking
erratically at him, as if trying to rid his vision of something that wasn't
there. "It's dirty, you can't touch it."
Dirty? Though he was bewildered, it didn't quell the burning need to understand
what was wrong.
"Tsunayoshi," Hibari repeated more firmly, "You need to give those to me."
But Tsuna shook his head, his breathing were alarmingly turning into dry
wheezes. He had to get those away. "N, No! I can't, I can't give it to you,
these, these clothes are from that night! I, I was wearing this when he, when
Pietro," Hibari stiffened, murder flashing like lightening followed by a
vendetta-induced thunderclap echoed in the distance, dear god, was that that
man's name? "Just please, don't touch them, I don't w, want you to!"
The broken explanation was enough to spur him into action. There were more than
a few things that clicked together, like pieces in a puzzle. Suddenly it all
made sense. First, these clothes were not spares. In fact, they were the same
attire Tsuna had been wearing during the assault. Secondly, Tsuna had given him
a name. A lead: Pietro. He could find him, he could bite bite bite him to
death, if he so desired. It did not take much for Hibari to arrest one man. He
had enough authority to do it, not to mention the inhumane strength and
determination to follow it through and more.
But now he had to think of that later. Controlling his blood-thirst with a
swallow, he had to deal with Tsuna first. The younger teen was breathing hard
and shallow; the air sifting between gritted teeth could not possibly be enough
to be deemed functional for the brain. But, despite the obvious disarray of
Tsuna's thought processes, the other continued, fairly decided on speaking his
part, "I don't want you to touch it, of all, all people, you can't, because,
just let me go, please, just,"
While speaking nonsensically, Tsuna had only succeeded in yanking himself free,
trying to turn away to put distance between them. Hibari reached quickly,
however, and whipped his hands around the shorter teen's upper arms. He held
him close, steadfastly staring at the dilated pupils, the harsh rise and fall
of the other's chest.
Tsuna thrashed in his arms, trying to move the clothes out of reach. But Hibari
was no longer concerned about the articles, not now. He had to stop this, put
an end to this nightmare that continued to consume the other in fear, in self-
hatred.
He jerked Tsuna slightly, forcing the smaller teen to tilt his head back till
they were nose to nose, staring deeply at one another. Although there was still
the eerie absence, in the light of such close contact, Hibari knew he was fully
taking advantage of the fact that he was becoming a welcome distraction from
the attack.
Tsuna's breath was slowing, fanning in hot spurts, like his dreams. It was as
if he was sobering by the proximity, or perhaps the younger was winded by the
furl of heat he knew they both felt. It was like being thrust back into private
slumber, where he was allowed to believe in the wandering olive-skinned hands
and soft smiles that mouthed at his cheeks.
In a moment of quick decision, Hibari did something not even he expected.
He moved his lips to descend on the others, and the reaction was instantaneous.
Warmth flooded his body, pushing something sluggish and hot through the veins
that pumped blood. Tsuna was trembling under the kiss, whether or not it was
because he felt the same rush of passion that crashed over Hibari in a single
instant of weakness.
But he did understand that Tsuna's eyes closed, he felt the lashes brush
against his cheeks. It was consent. It was acceptance. In a rush of elation by
the response, Hibari's hand reached up to thread his fingers against the soft
russet strands at the base of the other's neck. His other hand reached up too,
brushing a thumb against the soft, soft cheek.
This, this was better than any smile. Any soft touch. This was mutual desire,
something Hibari never really understood.
But he could not continue to do this, because he realized, with a growing
amused smile that Tsuna wasn't breathing. The other had held his breath the
entire time, as if favoring the sensation of their lips pressed together over
bodily functions. He broke away for the other's sake, eyes opening in time to
see Tsuna gasp aloud, breathing in the warm air Hibari exhaled. The younger
teen's eyes flew open, wide and dazed.
Then as he did, Hibari noticed the quick recession of realization flood in
sorrel brown, and tensed. He waited for the inevitable rejection. Damn, he had
meant to keep his desires a secret. Actions spoke louder than words, and that
one kiss may have destroyed everything they had managed to build up together.
Hibari prided himself on being the epitome of self-control, but he was not used
to denying himself anything he wanted. It had taken a moment of proximity to
punch a hole through his already weakened resolve.
The hot passionate air disappeared, turning into something clumsy and awkward.
But, as he braced himself for whatever reaction an unstable fifteen year old
was going to throw at him, he was pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong once
more.
Tsuna surged up to his toes, their lips meeting again.
They messed up this time, their teeth clacking together in the most painful
way, but it was the shared heat that kept them going, that fueled the fire and
alighted the passion that was regained almost immediately. They pursed their
lips shut, only because there was a mutual understanding that neither knew how
to do open-kisses. Despite the innocence of their action, it still seemed just
as personal and just as heated as any kiss with tongue.
Tsuna was the one to pull away this time, Hibari found it amusing how the other
learned from his earlier mistake and remembered he needed to breathe.
He took a moment to assess the situation, to weigh the consequences of his
actions. This most certainly changed everything for them. This development made
the situation more complicated, whether for good or bad. Hibari allowed himself
the luxury of observing deeply at the flush that marred the younger's face,
eyes that were dilated for an entirely different reason than earlier. The other
looked dizzy, amazingly, and welcomingly distracted.
And that was just as well. He had triumphed over Pietro and had managed to
consume Tsuna's mind in turn.
Now he had to worry about their other problem. He took the bundle of clothes
from limp hands. "We're going to burn these." He muttered softly, breathing in
the air they still exchanged. "There's no need for you to have them anymore."
He stared at the clothes in his hands, growing increasingly perturbed. To
think, that he still had these things from four months ago. Where had it been
all this time, and why had it appeared only just now? He was still left in the
dark about the littlest details, but it was still, he considered, an
accomplishment to have gotten the mess out of Tsuna's mind. That had to count
for something, he supposed.
But then he noticed the lack of response.
He glanced up finally, and was alarmed by the look on the other's face. All
traces of life were missing, in an instant, that face that was flushed like a
ripe peach was as pale as paper. He looked as if he had been cut out from
cardboard, with all the expression he possessed. His sorrel brown gaze were
suddenly a sign for alarm, no longer just a hint of it, but as vivid as it
could be, for his pupils had become so constricted that he could not see the
black of his eyes.
He was slightly trembling, his lips were turning blue from shock. "Tsunayoshi?"
Hibari hissed. The clothes fell from his hands, and he didn't care, for in
their absence, his hands were now free to grasp onto the staggering teen.
Tsuna was going into a different kind of attack. This wasn't normal, this was
reality, and it hit him as hard as it must have hit Tsuna.
No.
What had he done wrong? Was it the kiss? Had he triggered something deeply
grotesque, awakened a beast inside? Hibari had been under the impression that
he had done something right, done just the opposite really, that by kissing
Tsuna, he had been a step closer to freeing the other from the monster's
shadow. But no, had he only pushed him further into the darkness?
Was there nothing he could do?
With a hint of desperation, Hibari held Tsuna's face in his hands, trying to
push his sincerity into the other's gaze, just look at me, look at and think of
me only. He brought his head closer, and decided like a shot in the dark, to
try kissing him again. He ducked, trying to connect their lips again, it had
worked once, it had to work again. But then two things happened.
An olive, no it was so pale now, skinned hand raised to blue lips. The other
hand was slapped at Hibari's center, over his heart, and it pushed. It pushed
and pushed, growing desperate as milliseconds past. Hibari let go
instantaneously, his hands falling to his sides.
He didn't understand what this meant. Was this rejection? No, it couldn't be,
because only moments before, Tsuna had willingly kissed him back, initiated a
lip-lock of his own.
And then he spoke for the first time.
"This...this, was a mistake." It was said blandly.
He could only watch, as the younger teen began backing away from him, step by
step. He tried to hold the other's gaze, tried to see past the dead-look of
absence.
"Goodbye, Hibari-san," he said, and pulled the door open and snapped it shut.
—
Mistake? A mistake? It wasn't often he made mistakes. The idea was all so alien
to him. If he ever made mistakes, not many called him out on it. No, he
realized, no one ever called him out on mistakes. It's never happened before.
Perhaps that was his pride speaking, and perhaps it was his pride that had
shoved the memories of such insolence to the corners of nonexistence.
Anger returned, an entity he hadn't felt in so long rearing its ugly head to
stare at him. He only embraced it then, willing for the embodiment to overtake
his actions, freedom to make of what it wanted of the situation. He turned
heel, violently exhaling as he twisted his neck with an abrupt snap. He paced
to the kitchen, where he prowled like a caged animal. He hadn't felt so angry
in so long. This was not a simple matter of annoyance, this was true anger. And
what made him even angrier was the fact that it was Tsuna who gave birth to it.
Tsuna, who he had fruitlessly been trying to fix for four months. Tsuna, who he
had changed for, willingly for his sake became something only months prior he
had hated, a weak thing that relied on the company of a half-broken teenager.
You know what? Hibari snarled mentally, fine. Fine. It was okay. He didn't need
Tsuna. It was good he was rid of the stupid animal, it was for the better good.
He hadn't realized how imbecilic he had become until just recently.
He appreciated it.
But one thing bothered him greatly. So much, he couldn't simply let it go. What
was the mistake, then? Those four months he spent in vain? The time he took to
ensure of the other's safety? The countless, numerous discoveries of grotesque
underhanded self-harm and the near-suicidal attempts? That mistake of a kiss?
He could not help the ugly snarl that ripped out of his throat as he swiped a
fist at the series of drying cups atop the towel on the counter. They tumbled
to the floor, the crashing glass was supposedly deafening and satisfying, but
through the sound of blood rushing to his head, it was like he was hearing it
through a thick concrete wall.
Anger at himself, anger at his lack of power, and under all that anger was
helplessness. He sank, the small of his back against the wood, his figure
leaning against the counter as he put a hand over his face. He tried to block
out the world.
Helplessness.
He was helpless to help Tsuna, and he had to face it: he tried. What had he
been trying to accomplish? The extra pair of shoes at the entrance? A warm body
at his side? A companion? Perhaps it was the idea of friendship that had
allured him so much?
He tried so hard, and it came down to all this. He tried, and he failed. He had
made a mistake and he didn't know how to fix it, not this time. The only thing
he could do was try breathing deeply, in and out softly and struggled to
compose himself.
—
He didn't know how long he stood there staring at some point in the distance.
It only occurred to him that he had to move sometime, it wasn't as if he was
coming back. But it wasn't as if he was gone forever, either. They would just
have to avoid each other even more now. To make this, this change, easier.
Hibari checked the time on the clock on the wall. Five in the morning.
He numbly gathered the scattered attire at his feet for some reason. His body
felt like an echo, a recording cursed to replay the last moments. Maybe he was
trying to pick up what was left, trying to take the last thing given to him. He
held the clothing, before his pale hands began to inspect them, and he didn't
know if his brain was telling his hands to do that, or if they did it out of
their own accord.
The buttons of the white shirt were gone, as if forcibly ripped out by eager
hands. He recalled seeing the herbivore in this shirt once before, some time in
the past. There wasn't anything particularly wrong with the khaki jacket. But
when he got to the pants, however, was an entirely different story. He
remembered this pair before too; it was the green-olive one. He had a distant
memory that Tsuna liked to pair his orange sneakers to these jeans.
There was nothing wrong with it visibly on the outside. Until he took a look
inside.
Hibari recoiled, eyes growing wide in horror.
There was a filmy mixture that he was sure was white dried-up ejaculation
everywhere, the worst of it pooled at the bottom area before it continued down
the pants legs, leaving long incongruous trails. It absolutely caked the
insides, leaving a crusty contour. Worse, it was tinged slightly pink, at some
spots dark red. From blood. There was so much that he dropped it, fighting not
to gag.
—
Hibari found out later that day Tsuna was gone. For good.
Kusakabe came at exactly ten in the morning and explained that he would have
come immediately when he found out, but he hadn't been sure if Hibari had been
awake. Despite his orders at being left alone when he napped, he wished for
once that Kusakabe had come anyway. What did five hours later matter anyway? He
had been awake the entire night, he hadn't slept a wink, which was highly
uncharacteristic of him.
He was well known by personality for sleeping anywhere, anytime, regardless of
permission and consent of others. He would sleep at the most inconvenient of
places, and it would not faze him before. Sleep was sleep, and it was Hibari's
best sustenance. Hibari Kyouya, was suffering insomnia for the first time in
years.
He had sat there on his lounge chair seeing nothing, feeling nothing. His chest
echoed.
Regret clawed at the empty space there, ripping through his pride and crippling
his resolve to stay angry at Tsuna.
He should have done something, should have taken immediate action when he
learned that Gokudera Hayato and Yamamoto Takeshi had been pulled out of
school. He knew that had been alarming, but he was clouded, blinded by what he
had then, that he hadn't foreseen the future.
The change had come fast, leaving him winded and confused.
"Kyou-san," Kusakabe said hesitantly.
"Tetsu," Hibari muttered back, meeting eyes finally, "We are leaving Namimori."
The sudden decision surprised both of them, although the one who proposed it
did not show it.
"To find...Sawada, sir?" Kusakabe guessed uncertainly.
"No." Hibari said quickly. "We are going to work."
—
The following next months were something he did out of grim perseverance.
Everything he did was done seriously. He barely had time to organize his
thoughts because he would rather work than settle down to think more on
personal matters. He did things out of numb continuum. He did not allow himself
to recollect and made sure he was almost always busy, as to occupy his stray
thoughts and steer rampant feelings out of the way.
Dying Wills became more of a novelty, a new toy amongst students, than a sacred
thing used by select few people. It annoyed him to no end, and he used this to
fuel his determination to confiscate the worst of the backlash of the 'newly'
discovered Box Weapons. The small cubes grew to be great trouble for they had
the ability to store powerful weaponry inside. It became such a problem, that
his own subordinates had to obtain their own boxes and rings to counter the
new, unwelcomed rebellious waves.
Most he had confiscated from claimed that they wanted them for conventional
armaments and sometimes, pets. But that only aggravated him further, to see
such power in the hands of idiots. To solve his uncontrolled situation, Hibari
formulated a plan.
He left Namimori without a backwards glance. And, quite naturally, the
Disciplinary Committee followed his footsteps.
He created Foundation, an organization that was still in its infancy.
It derived from its definition: to set up, or establish on firm basis for
enduring existence.
He would never admit it, but he thought of Tsuna when he came up with its name.
Survival. Endurance.
The group mainly existed to study and research the Box Weapon technology, and
find a way to null its powers, its weaknesses, its strengths.
Its core members were those from the Disciplinary Committee. Tetsuya Kusakabe
was, as anticipated, his second-in-command. And, for obvious reasons, their
hideout was directly under the Namimori shrine and connected to the also newly
formed Vongola Hideout via a steel door only he allowed few to access.
He met Dino occasionally, and apart from the small Vongola piece he had
connected to his base, the man had quickly become his only connection to
Tsunayoshi. But, of course, he wouldn't willingly pry it from Dino, the
Buckling Horse just happened to blab about his little brother at every chance
he got. So he listened during those times. Not that he cared or anything, of
course not.
—
Sometimes he would leave for days on business. What he liked most about
traveling was the freedom. In Namimori, he had always felt so grounded. And he
felt alive with each step into a new country. It wasn't as if he didn't like
Namimori anymore, he supposed that the change of scenery gave him room to
breathe. He would go to America, South Korea, and the comfortable,
accommodating country of Australia.
Still, though the origins of Box Weapons were somewhat well known in the
future, nobody was able to produce a clear answer when asked how the Boxes
managed to be perfected. Hibari's investigation led him to conclude that the
answer was simply 'coincidence', but he himself admitted that these
coincidences happened in an unnatural fashion around the development of the
Boxes and that there was many inconsistencies left to be explained. Eventually,
he later realized that Byakuran, the one they had defeated in the future,
secretly used his power of looking into parallel worlds to help in the
completion of the Box Weapon technology.
He kept business strictly business, trying to unfurl more work to keep him
busy, to take his mind off the teen whose lips had turned blue from a kiss.
And a year passed, just like that.
—
He's not heartless.
When the calendar said it was October the fourteenth, he knew what day it was.
Only because of, well, Namimori procedure of course. It was his job to know
students' birthdays.
No, his traitorous mind said, the same voice that sounded a lot like his from
happier days, it's your job to know Tsunayoshi's birthday.
He tells it to shut up, for probably more than the trillionth time, and he
tried to focus on beating the daylights of a man who unwisely withheld
information from Foundation.
He wondered how the herbivore was spending his sixteenth birthday.
—
It was two days later, October the sixteenth. Sitting on a weather-marred
scaffold on the Eiffel Tower, Hibari received a call.
The puddle iron latticed structure located on the Champ de Mars in Paris was
one of the few things in the world he marveled, it was tall and strong, and the
breeze was welcomingly distracting. The Iron Lady, or La dame de fer, was tall,
but her height did not faze him. All three-hundred sixty-four metres did not
bother him much. He had always liked high places.
The call only surprised him because he couldn't believe he had reception up
this high. He was bewildered as he flashed a glance at the screen. An unknown
caller. It wasn't often anyone called him aside from Tetsu, and that only for
urgent situations.
He flipped the phone open, and quite disinterestedly said, in slight dead-pan,
"Hibari Kyoya."
There was no reply for a moment.
Until a rough voice grouched from the receiver, causing an instant migraine to
shoot straight through his skull. "Hibari, you mother fucker, where the fucking
hell are you, goddamn ass-wiping asshole running around, playing adventure
while we're—,"
"Gokudera Hayato," Hibari identified easily. "If you are calling to insult me,
I suggest you hang up now." The threat was clear in the air.
There was another pause.
Then a very soft, "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."
Now that was surprising. Hibari's brow shot up to his hairline, and he sat up
straighter, slightly alarmed. He waited.
Gokudera conceded after an awkward silence, "I'm sorry. I, I called to talk to
you." This conversation was becoming increasingly bizarre as the other
apologized again, and continued with rough voice, as if dry with thirst.
"Hibari," There was another break here, as if the other was swallowing.
"Hibari, god, Hibari, we need your help."
This interaction could not become any more ridiculous. Was this some
ridiculously bad imposter? There was no way Gokudera Hayato would willingly
call Hibari, tell him he was sorry twice, and suddenly ask for his help. It was
common knowledge that Gokudera was prideful, perhaps not as prideful as
himself, but close enough. The other rarely acknowledged those who weren't
figures that he respected. But it had to be understandable that Hibari was only
suspicious by the lack of true hostility, because the Gokudera Hayato he knew
wouldn't admit remorse to those he wronged. Not that Hibari was much different
in that either.
He was about to hang up, sure that this could not be the Guardian he knew a
year ago, but then, Hibari heard something very familiar. He's heard it before,
but he only called it a moment of weakness in others. An opening in his
opponents, a flaw in his allies: tears.
The rustle of a sleeve rubbing against eyes.
A dry breath was drawn, and it suddenly dawned to him: the other wasn't
thirsty. He had obviously been crying.
"Tenth tried to kill himself yesterday."
Chapter End Notes
     AN: Dear god. I thought last chapter was hard to write. But this,
     this was even harder. There was no information on Hibari's canon
     group "Foundation", so some of the stuff I just gave you was some
     true info and some made-up. I wish we got to know Hibari from the
     future better, because filling in for things that happened in canon
     without explanation is challenging. I only hope that Hibari was
     portrayed okay, he is human after all.
     And I'm not sure why I thought Hibari sitting on the Eiffel Tower was
     so appealing. It was just a random place that popped up in my mind as
     I wrote the scene out.
     Beta-ed by sweet-and-simple! Thank for your wonderful, wonderful
     work, love! You're amazing and just an awesome beta! You spoil me too
     much!
***** Chapter 17 *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: Okay, the following new two chapters are events from Gokudera's
     point of view, all leading up to that phone-call with Hibari from
     last chapter. I'm shocked I wrote this much, it amazed me by the time
     I was done it was over 11,000 words. That's the biggest I've written
     for this story. It was so long, even my beta suggested that I had to
     cut it into two. It was rather lengthy.
     Also be forewarned for Gokudera's potty mouth!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It was four forty-five in the morning when Gokudera awoke to the sound of
something hitting the wall above his head. It took a minute to blink away the
haze of sleep, trying to decipher if he had actually heard that or if it was
only the last remnants of a dream he'd already forgotten about. His body felt
too relaxed to even take on the stirrings of a thought to move around, and he
laid there for a moment in a strange loop of unconsciousness and consciousness.
When he opened his eyes, his ash-green irises blearily peeking from the folds
of his satin blankets, he realized he hadn't just imagined that thump.
He shot out of bed, stumbling blindly to the door with dread piling in his
stomach when he realized where the sources of the sound he heard were coming
from.
Tsuna's room. He was only a wall away, so he was fairly certain that he hadn't
dreamt the sound up. The Tenth's room was next door, sandwiched between his and
Yamamoto's own room, and he wondered if the baseball-idiot had heard it too.
His hands were still asleep, useless and annoyingly weak in his half-awake
state, and he fumbled with the brass doorknob for a little over ten seconds.
And, shit, the floor is mercilessly cold to his bare feet.
It was very early morning of the first of August, so it was no surprise to see
that the season of Fall was turning in its sleep, making room for Winter to
take rest. His arms automatically wrapped around himself as he stepped into the
freezing hallway lined with red carpets. The darkness of the area only seemed
to give Gokudera an even more ominous feeling, and instinct told him something
was happening.
He didn't hesitate when he knocked. "Tenth?" he whispered through the thick
wood of the door separating them.
"Gokudera-kun?" was the instant reply, and he breathed out a relieved exhale.
It was the usual soft inquiry of his boss's voice. At least he answered right
away, that meant he was probably okay.
"Is something wrong?" Gokudera asked, moving an ear to the door.
"No," Tsuna replied. His voice was muffled from both the combination of the
distance and the barrier between them. "Nothing is wrong. Why?"
Feeling foolish, the smoke-haired teen flushed in the dark, grateful no one was
there to see it. He took a step back, growing increasingly embarrassed. "Oh,
nothing. I just, I was worried."
There was a pause. "I'm alright." Tsuna said, tone warm. "You can go back to
sleep."
"If," Gokudera bit his lip, unsure of what the feeling he was experiencing was.
"If you're so sure. Goodnight, Tenth."
"Goodnight, Gokudera-kun."
—
It was just by chance that Gokudera walked by Tsuna's room when he heard the
phone inside ring.
He wasn't quite sure what to do at first, but he knew that Tenth was currently
speaking negotiations with the head of the Nuevo Famiglia. They met that family
at Mafia Land long ago, and Gokudera remembered the uncouth New Yorker bunch
that pledged allegiance that day and have been with them since.
So, naturally, he went inside to answer it. His eyes swept across the room as
he made his way to the corded phone. Tsuna was known for being messy, and he
had seen the Tenth's room at Namimori before, but this room was sort of...well,
clean. It bothered him, but he wasn't sure why. Even the bed was made, and he
remembered Reborn constantly dogged him to fix it every morning.
He shook the irrelevant thoughts away, and picked up the phone, holding it to
his ear. "Hello?" He said.
A pause.
"Gokudera-kun?"
He wanted to hit himself. It was the Tenth's mother. "Hello Mrs. Sawada."
Gokudera greeted respectfully. "How are you?"
"Good? I was wondering if I could speak to Tsuna." She seemed distracted.
He grimaced, because he knew very well how left out in the dark Tsuna's mother
was. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Tenth seems to be busy at the moment." He couldn't
interrupt a mafia meeting between bosses because one of them had their mother
on the line. How absolutely un-cool that would be.
Nana was in thoughtful silence before she said softly, "Gokudera-kun, I'm
looking at the calendar right now. I was hoping Tsuna and Iemitsu could come
back for awhile for a nice dinner. Or, you know," there was a nervous shuffle
on the other line, "I, never mind. If you could have him call back that would
be great."
"Sure." Gokudera blinked. "Is something wrong?" He cursed himself for not being
able to withhold the last comment. He should have left it at an agreement and
let Tenth handle his mother. He wasn't sure how to act around her.
"Well, uhm. Yes. Actually."
Alarmed, he worriedly turned to look out the window, but found it was closed
shut. The curtains were drawn. No wonder it was so dark in here. "What's
wrong?"
"Tsuna, he, he hasn't been calling. It's been three weeks since he's last
called."
—
Gokudera shuffled the recent reports one more time on his way to Tsuna's study.
It was a minor discrepancy, really, but he supposed telling the young mafia
boss wouldn't hurt. Tsuna was a hard worker, and he was meticulous to a fault
at times because of it, though lately it was taking longer to get them from
him.
He pushed the hard maple door open, peeking inside. The desk was empty, so he
headed further into the room and peeked around the shelves.
Tsuna was staring out the window when he spotted him, a single hand laying rest
on a bookcase's shelf. "Tenth," he called aloud, trying to shove his way past a
precarious stack of boxes. "Tenth—..." Gokudera trailed off when it was clear
Tsuna hadn't even heard him, as the teen moved closer to the wide open window.
He saw a brief glimpse of Tsuna's face as he turned. His eyes were tired, out
of focus and slightly shadowed underneath, as though he hadn't slept in days.
He didn't look well.
"Tenth," Gokudera said again, approaching closer. This got the other's
attention, and he swung his head to glance back.
Perhaps it was the light that made Tsuna so pale, and perhaps it was the
bookcase's shadow that made the circles under his eyes seem darker than they
really were. The traces of tiredness disappeared, much to the Italian boy's
great relief, as Tsuna turned around with a bright smile.
Tsuna didn't speak though, as if waiting for Gokudera to say something. He
conceded after a pregnant pause. He wanted to ask about the reports in his
hands, but instead what came out, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Tsuna shook his head, his smile turning apologetic, "I'm probably
coming down with something. Did you need anything?"
Tsuna did looked sick, and he didn't want to stress him out by bombarding him
with issues. Up close, he could see the abnormally unfocused glassy eyes.
Additionally, there were reddened lines running across them. He was definitely
losing sleep.
He swallowed, "Tenth, there were something about your reports. It's not
necessarily life-endangering for CEDEF," He paused here, waiting for a laugh
from the young boss. When it didn't come, feeling horribly awkward, he held
them up in emphasis, watching the sorrel glassed eyes flicker to the stack and
back to meet his gaze again. "It's a small thing, but did you know you have
been dating the reports August the sixth for the last week?"
The smile faltered slightly. "It's not the sixth?"
"No, Tenth." Concerned, he shook his head, "It's the thirteenth."
"I see," Tsuna said, scratching the base of his neck sheepishly. "I'll go
change it then. Sorry for the trouble."
"No trouble at all," Gokudera dismissed, but Tsuna already swept past him.
—
"Tenth," Gokudera called hesitantly, almost more than a month later, across the
table.
It was morning near lunch, and the youngest children sat respectively across
from the oldest for convenience sake. It was an unusually quiet breakfast,
calmer than most days. Tsuna sat between Yamamoto and Gokudera as usual, and he
was speaking quietly through small bites about the progressions of Yamamoto's
new work on a Rain Flame Radar.
"Koujiro and I discovered that he had an ability to see through invisible
attacks by using his Ring's Flames as a radar to detect vibrations in the air,"
The taller teen explained excitedly, "Lal Mirch was the one that perfected our
technique, but actually, we decided to try the idea when we saw what Hibari did
with Genkishi—,"
"Tenth," Gokudera said more firmly, cutting into the conversation with force.
He sent a pointed look at Yamamoto over Tsuna's back. The idiot bit his lip,
cutting himself off at the same time. His brow furrowed deeply when he realized
what he just brought up. They made it a silently agreed point that they
shouldn't talk much about Hibari when they could avoid it, for obvious reasons.
When Tsuna turned, he looked unfazed, which was a sign for celebration, he
supposed. Trying to cover up his panic over the slip, he pushed to bring up an
entirely different subject, "I was wondering. About your birthday, is there
anything you wish to do?"
Tsuna paused for a moment.
"My birthday?" The shorter repeated. "But it's still August." Tsuna looked at
them, harder, "August thirteenth, right?"
Yamamoto and he exchanged a look of confusion. "No, Tsuna," Yamamoto said,
"It's September twenty-sixth."
Gokudera blinked. Why did this exchange sound so familiar?
For a moment, they thought the other was going to push his claim, but he sank
back in his seat with a slow blink. "Oh." Tsuna said softly, "My mistake."
"Well, anyway," Gokudera grouched, shooting an antagonizing stare over Tsuna's
shoulder at the other. "Is there anything you want in particular? I mean, I
heard Reborn was willing to celebrate the same day as you."
He smiled fondly as Tsuna looked as if he was struggling to come up with an
answer. It was just like his boss, to not really want anything in material
possession. The taller of them seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "I
know!" Yamamoto stood up suddenly, making all eyes fall on his. He smiled with
great elation at the attention. "How about a birthday party!"
There were collective murmurs of excitement at the idea. I-Pin and Basil shot
grins at each other, already thinking of ways to decorate the manor. Lambo
immediately began babbling about who he wanted to invite, while they all tuned
the pitched voice out.
"Are you crazy?" Gokudera grumbled, "There's no way could do that, I mean, we'd
have to get the Ninth's permission—,"
"And you have it."
They turned to look up at Timoteo, who smiled warmly at them, "It's normal for
a mafia boss to have birthday parties. Of course, we have to get started today.
Most families are very irritable when they're not given enough time to
prepare." The elderly man turned to look at Tsuna, "What do you think? We can
invite your friends, have them stay the night. There is more than enough rooms
free."
They all turned to stare at the young boss.
He nodded, smiling, "Sure. Why not?"
Gokudera seemed to be fine with consent now, and looked excited himself,
willing to make this a perfect occasion. "We can take you out the next day
too." The smoke haired teen suggested. "Venice sounds nice, it's close enough.
We haven't really had the chance to walk around like before."
"Yeah, just the three of us." Yamamoto added in.
Tsuna nodded to agree, smiling.
They didn't notice as the eyes turned away to discuss the plan further, that
Tsuna's face slacked, his tired, glassy eyes staring at a point in the
distance.
—
"Aneki," Gokudera asked the next morning. "Do we have rats here? Like in the
walls?"
Bianchi took a moment to actually consider this, looking thoughtful before she
answered. "I didn't think so. Why, you saw one?"
It was just lately, he's been hearing the strangest taps against the walls
during the night. It wasn't taps, but it was like something light and small was
repeatedly hitting the walls. He didn't understand what this could mean, but he
would find out on his own time.
"No." He frowned, crossing his arms. "Maybe I'm mistaken."
—
October the fourteenth came by rather quickly. By then, half of the manor was
ready to accommodate the two-hundred-something expected guests. The course menu
had already been made, handpicked by his own sister really. They were just
lucky that she only chose the prix fixe menu and didn't cook them herself.
There were lines of crisp white table cloths and an army of waiters in tuxedos
coupled with maids in their most formal white aproned uniforms. They had the
finest chefs in Italy running the kitchen, cooking up only the greatest of
spectacular servings that included an appetizer, soup, salad, entrée and
dessert for every person.
He made sure the electrical staff checked and rechecked the arching chandeliers
above them and had an actual professional floor wax company run their machine
through the ballroom once and twice over.
Gokudera himself took care of the service and atmosphere, pouring sweat in his
casual t-shirt and jeans. He stood amidst the scrambling persons, "I want
everything perfect, do you hear me?" He glared at the vast amount of suited
staff that absolutely refused to move fast enough for his standards.
Tsuna's birthday was going to be perfect.
He hoped this would relax his boss, he'd looked so unbelievably tired. Although
he didn't show it to them, Gokudera could see how he hid it, just to appear
okay. He admired the thought, but he wished the shorter teen would take care of
himself. He was only human after all. Gokudera was fine if he took more than a
few rests at a time.
"You should take a break."
He turned with an exasperated glare at Yamamoto, who looked as if he hadn't
done a thing.
"You should get to work." Gokudera returned bitingly.
"No, seriously, go take a rest. I'll take over here." The taller teen smiled.
"Look, I even made a birthday sign." Yamamoto unfurled a long poster board and
the end hit the front of Gokudera's shoes. A capitalized, big HAPPY BIRTHDAY
peeked up at him in an annoying array of colors. Colored by Lambo, of course.
He resisted the urge to kick at it in spite, just to see the shock on the
others face. The appealing idea was instantly forgotten as Yamamoto held a
marker out to him, "You're the only one who hasn't signed it. Well, you and the
incoming guests."
Gokudera snatched the marker, still glaring, though his face was heating up.
"Well, fine. I guess I'll sign it."
"Yeah, you do that." Yamamoto grinned. The smile faltered, "You're not the only
one who wants to get Tsuna to take a break you know. I haven't seen him sleep."
So he wasn't the only one who noticed. Or maybe it was only the two of them who
noticed.
Gokudera didn't reply, however, and gathered up the poster and walked over to
sit on a lone table, scribbling his thanks and admiration to Tsuna in dark red.
—
She supposed it couldn't be helped. If Tsuna was anything like his father, then
he was more than likely hard at work trying to catch up in school. She knew
Reborn has had a great influence on him, and Tsuna's grades had looked better
by the end of his second year in middle school. She wondered how he was faring
in high school now, but Tsuna only gave the littlest of details of what he
studied.
She hoped this exchange program wasn't too hard on him. But it wasn't as if he
was being taught how to shoot a gun. The worst enemy Tsuna would have over
there would be French class.
It was Tsuna's birthday today. It was too bad she still hadn't gotten a reply,
but leaving a little voicemail wouldn't hurt.
She picked up the phone and dialed Tsuna's number. He gave it to her saying he
would try to pick it up and call back when he could. And he usually did, but
not as of late. After a few rings, his answering machine picked up. She waited
patiently for the beep that prompted her to start speaking, but instead an
automated voice informed her that the inbox was full and she could not leave a
message.
Slightly puzzled by this new turn of events, she pulled the phone away and
glanced at it for a moment before placing it back on the receiver's crook.
Maybe something was wrong with his phone. She resolved to call Iemitsu, maybe
Reborn, about this later. They lived with Tsuna, after all.
—
At exactly seven in the evening, guests began filtering in the manor in an
array of foreign black sleeted cars. They were lucky that Reborn remembered
that they would need to get a valet parking working, otherwise they would have
been in a world of trouble.
Delicate tinkling piano music played, twining circles around the low murmuring
of the guests. Italian was not the only language spoken by any means, and those
half-familiar voices contributed to a grand incomprehensible flow of dialog
that seemed, in a way, almost an expressionistic painting meant to convey the
idea of conversation, if not the sense of it.
The ballroom was long and open and although the white plaster ceiling hung well
out of reach, the comparative width of the space gave it a certain
disproportional looming quality. At the entrance of the grand hall was a paper-
made sign in tacky letters that read, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TSUNA! Along the edges of
it were crowded in an array of colors of personal messages addressed to Tsuna
signed by the guests.
Thick white curtains interrupted the red wallpaper at every entrance and the
merrily sparkling lights above dangled down entirely too close on little brass
stalks.
The selective food was a cuisine that was exquisite regardless the number of
guests. Dish after dish was brought to the long white clothed table, some
easily identifiable as quail or rabbit or lamb, served on banana leaves or
baked in apples or garnished with brandy soaked cherries. The other courses
were more enigmatic, concealed in sweet sauces or spiced soups, unidentifiable
meats hidden in pastries and glazes.
There was little alcohol, for it was still a minor's birthday, but there was
enough to appeal to the adults present. Fine whiskey and drenching red wine,
filled in with fluted glasses of champagne and spirits in snifters were neatly
aligned atop a more secluded area away from the non-alcoholic beverages. It was
stationed on a taller table, as to keep it out of the littlest ones' reach.
"So you see, I really don't care for the direction the Tenth of Vongola is
taking us," an unctuous dignitary lectured on in a lisp, crowded up to
Gokudera's side and close enough that he could smell the odor of mothballs
coming off of his double-breasted suit. The man's wife stared at Gokudera with
a grimly polite smile stretching her painted lips, instantly recognizing him as
the right-hand man; she had a mink-lined coat trapped in the crook of her arm.
The dignitary gestured with his champagne as he continued, dislodging a flurry
of bubbles from the sides of the neglected glass. "It's just that he doesn't
seem very solution-orientated these days, you know?"
He was just about to voice his opinion when Yamamoto grabbed hold of his
shoulder.
He glared heatedly at the hand holding him back. He was in his own suit, a
formal gray, pressed and topped off neatly with a bow tie. Gokudera had to help
him put the damn thing on, much to his embarrassment, as the other hadn't known
how to tie a bow.
"Be polite to the guest, Gokudera." The other whispered, and he tugged him
away.
"I can't believe the nerve of some people!" Gokudera hissed when they were at a
good distance, making heads turn his way at his unrefined volume as they
passed, "We invited them, so would it kill them to act like they're enjoying
the damn party?"
"We didn't invite them," Yamamoto disagreed with a bemused smile, "Reborn did.
Some the Ninth did."
At the mention of the illustrious baby, he calmed down somewhat. "Still," he
muttered childishly.
"He has a point."
They looked up, eyebrows shooting up to their hairlines at the man who stood in
front of them.
"Mukuro?" Yamamoto exclaimed pleasantly. Gokudera harrumphed, turning his head
the other way.
The other was wearing a fine dark blue tux that coupled nicely with the shade
of his hair. It was the first time they've seen him in so long. After being
freed from the hellish penitentiary, Vendicare, they hadn't seen him as
frequently as he thought he would. He knew that they suspended those contained
in the lowest sections in water, but Mukuro hadn't looked better, for he was
sure that much time in a capsule should have deteriorated his muscle mass. His
hair was even grown out slightly in the base of his neck.
"I meant the man. Not you," He gave a derisive smooth laugh, and arched an
elegant brow. "I haven't heard a single thing about the Vongola this past
year."
"Yeah, well, no one bothered to inform you." The smoke-haired teen muttered
acidly.
"He's holding up quite well." Mukuro said suddenly, looking past their
shoulders. They turned to look, all three of the teens staring at Tsuna. He was
talking with a young lady in a yellow, shimmery backless dress, eyes bright. "I
have to say, good job at the decor, you two. Never knew you had the
sophistication to achieve such grandeur."
Angered again, Gokudera was going to snap at the fucker of the Mist Guardian
when another voice cut in.
"Hey you guys!" They were suddenly barraged by a bear hug from a familiar mop
of a lighter shade of gray hair. "Thanks for the extreme invite! I brought
Kyoko and Haru with me!"
"Ryohei!" Yamamoto greeted, throwing an arm around the other's neck in good
rough play. Gokudera watched as the girls in question immediately stalked up to
Tsuna, throwing arms around the birthday boy, who smiled toothfully back at
them. They were wearing a nice complimentary set of chiffon peach and mint, the
girls clamoring about the young mafia boss. He was glad they were here, but he
was regretful Tsuna's mother could not come, for obvious reasons.
Mukuro slunk away during the roughhousing with a drawn sneer, returning to
Chrome at the course table. Ken was actively feeding on the table crammed from
corner to corner with mouth watering entrees. Chikusa only mannerly drank a
flute of sparkling water, watching his surroundings in disinterest.
He yelled obscenities at the kids that ran around his legs, irritated by habit
at the cow-print tuxedo and the flowery cheongsam. I-Pin's hair had grown out a
little now, so she could make two, not one, small pigtails. The ends of the
plaits were embellished in flowers. Fuuta had grown just slightly taller, so
they had to get him a new suit especially. He had forgone the trademark scarf,
and he looked dashingly older without it. In a few years, they all knew he
would eventually surpass Tsuna's height.
The adults of the party were more subdued in the celebrations. Dino had
approached Reborn, talking in low voice with the baby, exchanging smart quips
with one another. Romario stood dutifully at his boss's side but was conversing
in a heated debate with Shamal, sipping brandy between words.
Other families had arrived in a timely manner. The Simon family themselves
spreading out, going their separate ways to mingle among other guests. Enma
himself went straight up to Tsuna to stand companionably by his side. In just a
year, Enma looked taller.
Though they both had the same body type, it seemed like Enma was sprouting
faster. Maybe the Tenth wasn't eating as much as he thought.
Eventually, he had to get one with the speeches.
Tsuna took some time with his, stumbling over words at times, but overall
giving a very nice gratifying finish that left an impression on even the
hardest of expectant guests. He was improving much better on speaking to a
larger crowd.
Bianchi came in, rolling in a five layer cake after his speech, much to the
heir's surprise.
It was time for Tsuna to blow out his candles. They ushered the young mafia
boss in a chair in the center, pulling up a table to place the cake. It took
the full combination of Yamamoto, Gokudera, and Ryohei to heft it up onto the
table. At least Reborn stopped Lambo in time when he was about to jump on the
confectionery. When the enormous dessert was successfully placed in front of
Tsuna without the slightest casualty, the birthday boy eyed it warily for a
moment.
"Is this really necessary?" He asked with a slight nervous laugh.
"Of course!" Reborn said, with a smile, "It's your birthday. And mine. But
whatever. Make a wish, Stupid-Tsuna before I shoot them off."
There was a roundabout laughter at this, although most who knew the infant
actually understood how true the words rung.
After the traditional chorus of singing the familiar tune of Buon Compleanno a
te, Tsuna blew out his candles with a big puff of cheeks. He smiled widely when
he was finished and the room erupted into applause and cheers.
They were cutting the cake now, but Gokudera straightened himself out, walking
to the guest list at the entrance. Though he would like a piece, it was his
duty to see things out, and he would gladly carry that through. He opened the
white leather-bound book flipping through the satisfying crispy pages.
They sent an invite to Hibari, but the no-show was extremely expected. The
stupid Cloud Guardian, the least he could have done was send a gift. But
perhaps that was asking too much. Surely bringing up his blatant absence, even
through a gift, would have made things awkward. That was the one thing he would
not have on such a happy day.
Chiavarone Famiglia, Tomaso Famiglia, Bovino Famiglia, Simon Famiglia, Nuevo
Famiglia, Beccio Famiglia, Difo Famiglia. Varia was supposedly invited also,
but he hasn't seen them. It was almost nine, so he was sure everyone who needed
to be here was here.
Gokudera sighed, but sighed in satisfaction.
"Excuse me," A voice said pointedly in his direction.
Gokudera looked up, brow furrowing.
The owner of the voice waved awkwardly in greeting. "I'm with the Botticelli
family." It was a man, mid twenties perhaps, dressed in a pressed double
breasted cream-colored suit. He was tall, actually taller than Yamamoto, and he
had his black hair slicked back on the sides. His skin was a flawless tan.
With an elegant flourish, Gokudera whipped out a pen and held it to the guest
list. "Your name?"
"Piet Botticelli. My brother should be here." Piet said with a grin as he
introduced himself. It morphed into an apologetic smile after a moment of
beaming, "Sorry I'm late, got a little holdup. Amazing traffic out there."
"It's alright," Gokudera said with a scowl as he finished penning the man's
name in. Just because he forgave him didn't mean he approved of the tardiness.
"I can lead you to the Tenth."
"Right." The black-haired man nodded in agreement after catching a look at the
crowded ballroom. He gave a slight grimace, most likely at the thought of
looking for Tsuna by himself in the mass assembly of glittery gowns and seas of
black satin tuxedos. "Please lead the way. I should greet the birthday boy
myself."
With a curt nod, Gokudera persevered through the crowd, glancing back
occasionally to see if he lost their new guest. It was no problem. The way the
man carried himself had the crowd parting for him. That slightly pissed him off
a bit, because others treated him like he was some, some bell boy. He turned to
look again and watched the man naively stare around him at the fanciful decor,
and the irritation ebbed away somewhat. The childlike manner he possessed
greatly reminded him of Yamamoto.
When they reached Tsuna, he was surrounded by Kyoko, Haru, and Enma. Although
it was more like the three were speaking amongst themselves as Tsuna listened
politely on, as he always did.
"Tenth, this is Botticelli. He just came in." Gokudera said, tugging at the
young boss's elbow.
And Tsuna turned.
And froze.
"Hello," Piet said, holding out a hand to the young mafia boss. "It's very nice
to meet you, Tenth of Vongola. My name is Piet Botticelli. I write books."
"What kind of books?" Haru piped up, her brown curls bouncing against her puffy
mint-colored sleeve.
No one noticed how Tsuna didn't grab for Piet's hand, so he dropped it
discreetly as he answered. "Oh, books on drugs. The Botticelli family are quite
well known among the mafia for medicinal purposes, darling. I'm a doctor of
sorts. Part time bio-chemist."
The flash of rows of white teeth was decidedly handsome, sending Haru and Kyoko
into a faint blush.
Piet turned his attention back to Tsuna. "Tenth of Vongola, I would actually
like to speak with you for a moment. I'm interested in the direction you're
taking on the matter of the Hyper Dying Will pills. We were the ones to have
made those, you know."
Dry-throated, Tsuna spoke up, "You did?"
"Oh yes. The Hyper Dying Will Mode removes external limiters on the body and
uses pressure during a crisis. It removes internal limiters, therefore releases
the user's hidden awareness. I'm sure you're quite familiar with the
sensation." The talk about Dying Will had left the girls in the dust, and they
gradually grew more confused as the conversation went on. They knew what it
was, but they didn't quite understand how it felt. Enma on the other hand,
looked very interested.
"I'm trying to develop an even more advance version, one that can last for more
than hours at a time. And without much strain on the body."
"Oh, that sounds wonderful," Kyoko said, eyes wide, "I mean, I never realized
how much it could actually hurt Tsuna-kun."
They turned to look at Tsuna, as if waiting for his input.
"That sounds fantastic." Was the simple reply.
Piet went on with his lecture, pulling the attention from Tsuna. "Usually,
being the mode makes the user feel as if their body was breaking, and yet they
feel prepared to take on anything as well, that includes being unafraid of
their body being destroyed. So I can understand your concern." He smiled
widely, holding up two fingers in emphasis, "Usually you digest two Dying Will
Pills to enter the mode, or you could get hit with the Criticism Shot, oh my,
where is the Tenth?"
They looked around, bewildered, at the unexcused absence.
"Probably went to get a drink?" Enma quietly supplied.
"Perhaps," Piet agreed, blinking. "I'll go look for him. There are some things
I'd like to try with him."
"Of course," Kyoko said earnestly, "Go right ahead." If it would ease the
stress off of Tsuna whenever he fought, they were more than willing to try
anything.
With a polite nod his head, Piet charmingly bid them farewell and turned a
smooth heel to rove into the crowd, looking for the Tenth.
—
By two in the morning, all the guests were gone, including the more intoxicated
ones. They were more rudely thrown out by the irritable Gokudera than the
gentle urging of Yamamoto, who couldn't tolerate the slobs.
The birthday was a success. Nothing completely terrible had happened, well, not
to Gokudera or Yamamoto's knowledge. He would expect to discover a spot of
throw-up from either the children or the incapacitated drunks later in the
morning. Despite the late hour, it was a mystery how Yamamoto seemed to still
be so energetic. It only made him further irate, snapping replies and biting
insults until Yamamoto settled with comfortable silence as they walked back to
their rooms.
They hadn't seen Tsuna, but they supposed he retired to his room after the gift
opening, and they didn't blame him. For this birthday party was meant to relax
him, Gokudera couldn't help but feel as if they made him even further
exhausted. He should have known that Tsuna preferred a quiet affair rather than
a ballroom attired one, so he would admit the mistake on his part.
He couldn't possibly imagine the weight of Tsuna's title, only stand there
trying to ease the load off the shorter teen.
Even when there is internal strife, members of the Vongola stood united to
repel attack from opposing Famiglia, living up to their title as the best and
the strongest. The influence of the Vongola is worldwide, and it was said that
no Famiglia can match them in terms of size, tradition, rules, or power, and
due to this, the boss of the Vongola is considered by many to be the capo di
tutti capi, or the 'Boss of all Bosses'.
It was no wonder Tsuna was so tired, trying to maintain that image. It was even
harder given his small physical appearance in size along with his age. Not many
took teenagers seriously, despite the things Tsuna was known to have
accomplished since he was fourteen.
It was no longer Tsuna's birthday he realized as he made a passing glance at
the tall grandfather clock, since it was two in the morning, which meant today
struck October the fifteenth and all was well.
But surprisingly, as he rounded the corner to go to their hall, they noticed a
figure standing in front of Tsuna's door. He stood as still as a statue,
staring at the heavy maple wood. He was still wearing his suit, the nice
tailored tan suit topped off with the nicest royal blue tie money could buy. It
was Gokudera who picked the attire out.
"Tenth?" Gokudera called, jogging up to the smaller teen.
Tsuna was slow to look up, and with a guilty wince, he couldn't help but notice
the dark red streaks across the white of the smaller's glassy eyes. "Tenth,
you're still awake? Don't worry about cleaning up, Yamamoto and I got it."
"You should get some rest," Yamamoto suggested, "We're going to Venice
tomorrow, remember? Just the three of us."
The replying nod was even slower.
Without another word, Tsuna opened his door and went inside, shutting them out.
He and Yamamoto exchanged confused stares, before they retired into their own
rooms, feeling something was...off.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: Yeah. This chapter. Was the most horrible thing I've ever
     encountered. But then again, as this story progresses, I feel as if I
     hate myself for every word I type. Not hate myself actually, I just
     hate Tsuna's friends. It hurts even me to write Tsuna act so distant,
     so painfully emotionally detached with everyone. I hate how they
     don't realize that their friend is just hurting while they go about
     like nothing is wrong. And I find myself so angry at them at times, I
     just can't handle it and I have to blow off steam by eating pina
     colada with pineapple chunks ice cream out of a tub in my jammies. So
     uh yeah. Probably you should expect some groveling later. And some
     Hibari kicking some ass. Yeah.
     Next chapter will be more into Gokudera's perspective, finally,
     leading up to that phonecall with Hibari.
     Thank you, sweet-and-simple for beta-ing and your everlasting
     kindness. May joy and happiness shower upon you and your unborn
     children. I cannot ask for a better beta. Seriously, I can't. Thanks
     for putting up with all my harebrained mistakes.
***** Chapter 18 *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: Just a reminder: it's still in Gokudera's point of view. So
     naturally, there are dirty words little children shouldn't use. Okay?
     Okay. Uhm, this chapter may seem triggering for some. (It's been a
     long time!) So do feel free to skip over the skwemish parts.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The next morning, they hadn't bothered setting up alarms, and they settled with
just waiting for the moment when Tsuna emerged out of his room. They went to
eat breakfast in the great hall. They sat on the floor this time, not bothering
to deal with chairs. They were slightly tired, but after a good night's rest,
Gokudera believed they were ready to go.
They had the leftovers of the fanciful egg filled croissants that were glazed
in some sweet sauce. It was filling enough, keeping them satisfied until they
decided they were ready to eat out in the city.
October fifteenth. Two in the afternoon. All was well.
They shuffled slowly out of the ballroom awkwardly reaching the garage.
Yamamoto asked their chauffeur a week back to take them to Venice after Tsuna's
birthday. It was tall broad man, with wide shoulders and meaty hands. It took
no idiot to understand that he wasn't only their chauffeur but their extra pair
of hands against any unwanted company, should they need him.
They scrambled in the backseat, Tsuna in the middle as usual. Though Tsuna was
laughing quietly, speaking to them with wide polite eyes, there was still a
certain chill about the way they interacted. Though he and Yamamoto haven't yet
spoken about this, he was sure the taller teenager was just as worried as him.
They danced around subjects as if they were walking over tightropes, though
they weren't sure why.
It was like that door shutting in their faces last night meant something else
entirely. Gokudera shook that thought off violently with a shudder, and decided
to avoid thinking about it. He instead stared out the window as they passed the
tall wrought intricate iron. It was just woods at first, coupled by cobble at
the sides until eventually some buildings came to view and they hit the
highway.
It had been a long time since they were out of the manor, and the change in
terrain was comforting. He turned to look at Tsuna, commenting on the new
construction of the green bridge over to the left, he noticed something very
strange.
There were bumps on Tsuna's thighs.
He wasn't quite sure what this meant, and this new discovery alarmed him. What
was that? Perhaps there were things in his pockets, Gokudera's mind reasoned
with him, and he struggled to accept the suggestion his conscience fed him.
Another idea hit him, something dark and morbid, forbidden even, but he didn't
want to think of that, refused to believe that. Tsuna wouldn't do that. The
insinuation was ridiculous. His mind didn't even want to put a name to it.
He sat back, trying to relax himself. His eyes flickered over a mop of russet
hair and saw that Yamamoto was struggling to do the same.
The car was uncomfortably cold.
They arrived at Santa Lucia in record time and he forced himself not to show
his immense relief at being freed from the oppressive air the vehicle held.
The chauffeur had to drop them off a few blocks down only because the narrow
streets made it impossible for further vehicle transport. It was uncomfortably
crowded around this time of day, and many locals and tourists alike pushed for
places to go and people to see. The Italian chatter was loud, much more
prominent in the mass white linoleum square and the sun bright in their eyes.
The reflective surface of the water made the light bounce off cheerily onto the
stone pillars and tan shingles of the station square.
It didn't match with the icy atmosphere that lingered, and it frustrated him to
not understand the catalyst of the strain could be. Perhaps it was his
imagination, because Yamamoto and Tsuna were laughing about the badly broken
Japanese on the brochure they had in their hands.
"Let's go to Bologna," Gokudera blurted suddenly.
He was unsure why he was so keen to get away, but a nausea was threatening to
climb up his stomach, brought on by the anxiety. It was enough reason for him.
The two looked at him, blinking. "Sure, why not?" Yamamoto said with a pleased
shrug, "I mean, it's only an hour ride to and from by train, right? We can kill
some time over there, plus I heard they have excellent bistecca over there."
He tried not to notice how it was only Yamamoto that replied.
"I'm gonna go look at that shop over there," Tsuna said to the two of them,
causing them to jump. He pointed to a souvenir shop that hand-carved wooden
sculptures, ranging from animals to flowers. Missionaries, most likely. "I
always send something every month to my mom."
They nodded understandingly in unison. It was good that Tsuna thought of his
mother even though they hadn't had much interaction. Yamamoto and he knew how
little the mother and child spoke to each other since the young boss left.
It was decided. Gokudera went to pay for their tickets, exchanging curt words
with the receptionist who was eying him a little more than he felt comfortable
with. But regardless, he asked questions as detachedly as he could. The vast
majority of trains from St. Lucia to St. Mestre were regional or fast regional
trains. They didn't take any reservations, all they had to do was show up, buy
the ticket and validate them in the yellow box on the wall.
Yamamoto was at his side, watching the conversation with interest. Ever since
they arrived, the taller of the three had been going out of his way to speak
Italian at every chance he got. He was a fast learner, so he already knew the
basics by the first three months in Italy.
When they gathered up enough brochures of their trip, given by the overly
helpful receptionist, they turned heel and stalked into the souvenir shop. They
wandered the shelves for a minute or two, looking past the wooden chisels,
hoping to see the flash of a blue jacket and khaki pants. They passed the same
aisles about twice before they met up again at the front entrance. Yamamoto
looked bewildered, brow furrowing deeper as they gave the store a good once
over.
When they didn't find Tsuna immediately, they began panicking.
By the second time Gokudera asked Yamamoto if he's seen Tenth, and the taller
likewise said he didn't, they sprinted out of the shop.
Naturally, they split up, hoping to cover more ground and see the familiar mess
of brown hair over the sea of tourists and locals alike. The taller of them
went to the left, Gokudera roving through the right with a discomforted
expression.
Something wasn't right, Gokudera's mind screamed at him, I told you something
wasn't right! The smoke-haired teen shoved his way through the crowd as the
feeling spread through his body. He willed the mass of bodies to part for him,
just once, please just once. Something wasn't right, something was going to
happen and he just knew it.
He stopped to catch his breath, and looked around him with wide, wide eyes.
There was a child squalling behind him, and he ignored it, trying to find his
boss, dear fucking God, where was he? He gripped the tickets in his hands
tighter before sticking them in his pockets. It wouldn't do to lose them.
What if Tsuna was just wandering around? Don't be hasty, calm the fuck down, a
more rational part of his mind whispered. But it wouldn't kill him to be
cautious, the other part of his mind that was still worried, argued.
His gaze fell to the floor as the child finally lowered its volume to a whimper
and Gokudera found himself staring at the yellow strip before him. It was an
implied barrier between passengers and the narrow strip of platform before the
dropoff to the tracks. It was a line that was probably supposed to keep people
from being pushed off the platform. He gaze followed over the line, until he
stopped at a single figure at the very end of the station.
His throat caught.
Tenth?
The announcer's voice, the female receptionist he had been speaking to, warned
them that this train was not stopping and would only be passing through, so
passengers were advised not to approach the line. The cracking of the intercom
that signaled the end of her announcement sounded like a gunshot in his ears.
Then a dark thought crossed over him. Something he had been avoiding of
thinking about for a year, perhaps more, whenever he noticed the glazed blank
stare Tenth made whenever he thought he was alone. And suddenly it all came
flooding to him. The yellow line, the people crowding in close. Tsuna, standing
all by his lonesome at the end of that yellow strip.
People jumped in front of trains all the time.
As if reading his thoughts, the faint sound of the metal behemoth coming up the
tunnel reached his ears.
Fucking hell.
The child started crying again as the rumble of approaching steel rose in
volume. He didn't see the train yet, but he could feel the vibrations. Then he
saw it. A flutter of leg movement, a step, then another step, and finally:
On October fifteenth, three in the afternoon, Tsuna fell onto the rail tracks.
Everyone stared in shock for a moment but then the bout of surprise was shoved
away very abruptly by something more raw and terrifying. Everyone began
screaming.
His body bolted forward before his brain even told it to. "Tenth, no! NO!"
Gokudera screamed, his own voice so loud it vibrated his bones, shaking him
harder than the approaching train. People finally made way for Gokudera, when
they realized someone was trying to help the young boy who fell on the tracks.
"Oh god, please, NO!"
He begged, begged silently and desperately that someone, anyone would grab him.
For he was dizzily unsure he would make it in speed against the approaching
machine. The world stood still, staring in a morbidly frozen fashion as a young
boy, freshly sixteen, was going to be murdered by a train.
All eyes were on Tsuna, and yet only two people moved.
It all happened very fast.
The train was coming in at least seventy to eighty miles per hour, finally its
lights blinding as it turned the corner and came into view. Gokudera was still
at the end of the station screaming as he stumbled forward, trying desperately
hard to go to him, though he knew he wouldn't make it.
When the train zipped past Gokudera, he shouted out a horrified cry at the side
of the steel encased body.
Tsuna stood up fast, shakily, facing the incoming metal death.
But Yamamoto was faster.
He didn't breathe even when he saw a familiar tan skinned arm reach over the
edge and pull Tsuna by the shirt up the side of the dropoff. It was a very low
drop, and it was just pure luck that his legs and arms were long and strong
enough to haul the boy the two feet back. The two tumbled backwards on their
sides in a painful landing. There was a scramble of legs, entangling with one
another as Yamamoto pushed the two of them away from that dreadful yellow strip
with desperate urgency.
He nearly almost fell on his face with relief, suddenly weak with delirious
alleviation. But the rush of adrenaline was still there, so Gokudera sprinted
the rest of the way, falling to his knees next to Yamamoto and Tsuna.
"Yamamoto, oh god, Tenth, oh Tenth," Gokudera was babbling incoherently,
nonsensically breaking sentences with unfinished questions in words, "Is he
okay, oh god, what happened, why didn't we," Why didn't we realize? The
questioned was finished silently with a horrifying curdle in his throat, a
heavy weight he couldn't swallow around.
He leaned all the way over to stare into the closed lids. Only now did he truly
acknowledge the dark bruises under Tsuna's eyes, the weary half-shut delicate
skin slitted enough to see the red speckles underneath. Had he always been this
way? "Please, oh god, Tenth!"
The train passed them.
Tsuna was safe. But everyone was still screaming, clamoring with a hazy panic.
But then he got a good look at the limp body on Yamamoto's lap. Blood. There
was so much blood. It was seeping out of the bumps on Tsuna thighs and running
down from Tsuna's nose in a sluggish currents. Had he been injured? But how?
Gokudera was sure he hadn't been hit, that was obvious, and yet he was bleeding
so badly.
He was unconscious too, that only made the scene more grotesque than anything
else.
He wanted to see the traumatized eyes, the scared glassy stare because at least
it would tell him that the other was truly alive.
Tsuna's khaki pants were steadily staining a dark brown, his shirt taking a
pinkish tinge. It was spreading quick. Yamamoto was trying to clamp his hands
over the flow on his legs, though he wasn't sure why it was even bleeding out
like that. Gokudera didn't have the slightest clue either. The closest
witnesses around them were not approaching, and for that he was grateful, but
they were shouting, screaming, and it all made him very dizzy.
"—dera, Gokudera!"
The boy addressed flinched, looking at Yamamoto. He was yelling at him, why was
he yelling at him?
"Call Reborn, get the driver over here now!"
God, he's never seen Yamamoto look so scared, yet so furious.
But the other was in control. He looked more collected than Gokudera felt.
Trying to take the firmness of Yamamoto's order to heart, he reached in his
pocket, pulling out a cellphone. He stared at Yamamoto's fiercely determined
expression as he clutched Tsuna close to his chest, and he dimly wished he
could do the same. So Gokudera put a hand on Tsuna's hand as he worked. It was
warm and alive, but it felt cold with cooling sweat, which only made the
situation in his eyes worse. If he had the nerve to feel pessimistic, he'd say
that the hand was cold because the smaller teen had died.
He messed up dialing three or four times but then it occurred to him he already
had the number saved in his address book. By the time he got Reborn on the
line, he was dry sobbing. Maybe he was long before, but he hadn't noticed until
he heard Reborn's tiny alarmed voice on the other line, his own filled with
tears and sorrow.
He realized then and there, hand clutching the cold smaller ones in his, that
he had been right.
Last night, Tsuna closed more than a door on them. He shut them out completely.
And decided to leave them altogether.
—
Bianchi was the one that found them, hunched over Tsuna's prone, unresponsive
body. She kept a level head as she spoke with the authorities. She said that
Tsuna was a sickly boy, he had problems with high blood pressure since he was a
child, and she compensated with more than a few bills, almost three wads of it.
Just to keep them quiet. It was a lie, but it was enough to distract the
station police and drag the bleeding boy out. The car was parked on the curve,
and he knew it must have been a lot of work to drive it through the people-
filled streets.
They loaded Tsuna in the backseat, where Gokudera put his head on his lap and
Yamamoto sat on the floor, still trying to squeeze the blood flow into a stop.
His gasps sounded loud in the somberly silent car. The smoke-haired teen's body
wracked with convulsive weeping. And even though he forced them through a quiet
filter as best as he could, it was plain obvious to everyone that he was
struggling not to scream. Reborn was in the front seat with Bianchi, and
occasionally they flashed glances at Tsuna, who still remained unconscious
throughout the entire ride home.
No one spoke, no one willing to speak about it, not in front of Tsuna as if he
was, was dead.
It was their greatest fear relived once more. This happened once, ten years
into the future, where they were under presumptions of what if Tsuna died on a
constant daily basis. They thought about it, and the idea of Tsuna leaving to
go to his death had scared them more than anything.
But this, this was different.
Quite frankly, they witnessed it. They weren't given a vague explanation of
what could haves and what ifs, they actually saw Tsuna walk off that platform
onto the tracks, and that shook their world.
—
There were no words exchanged until they reached the infirmary on the first
floor.
Gokudera knew this room was a necessity. But he hadn't thought, not even
dreamed, they would use it for this.
Yamamoto and Gokudera stood side by side as Ryohei lifted Tsuna on the bed. The
older teen, a man now, was holding back a sickened expression. Not because of
what he had figured out, no he would never judge Tsuna for that alone, but by
the amount of blood flowing from Tsuna onto him was more than a little
distressing. The same fear, colored a dark drying red, was stained on
Yamamoto's own hands and clothes.
"Let me," Bianchi said after a pause and Ryohei moved out of the way, shrinking
back a good distance.
She approached Tsuna, scissors in hand. "We need to find out what's causing
that bleeding." Though Gokudera needed to know just as badly as anyone else, he
was still afraid to see it for himself. He visibly shrunk when he heard the
first snip of scissors. His sister was slowly making her way up the hem of the
pants to the thigh closet to her. She kept working however, even when the
problem showed itself, and her back didn't tense in the slightest on what she
discovered. The pants were peeled away, like a second skin.
They waited with bated breath until she stepped back, eyes lowered.
Gokudera's knees shook and quite promptly, he sunk, but Yamamoto kept a hand at
his shoulder to keep him up. The sobs began to surface anew, this time he
didn't hold anything back. It was hard to breathe through the panic, the sudden
clog in his nose, and the water in his eyes, but he managed.
If the outside was really bad, the inside was worst. It was devastating.
Bianchi had cut through more than just pants, but soiled bandaging gauze too.
The welts, oh god, there was so many. The skin almost looked dotted red scales
because of the jagged crescents. They littered not only the front of the thigh,
but also the sides. Tsuna had been very meticulous with space, leaving no room
open.
There were small droplets of red here and there, timidly showing themselves
through the slenderest of crooked slits. They deceivingly looked like plastic
play beads if they hadn't known any better. The worst of the welts had
completely opened, big hateful gaps peeking out in the sterile room. They were
the weals that mirrored the dark stains on Tsuna's destroyed pants and they
were still sluggishly leaking a carmine color, staining the bed spread fast.
Gokudera would bet that it was a mirror image on the other clothed leg too.
"How long?" Ryohei was surprisingly quiet, his voice a numb marvel.
But no one answered, because they didn't know.
"There are light patches here..." Bianchi said softly, her fingers not quite
touching the spots.
Reborn took a seat next to Tsuna's leg, his feet dangling off the side of the
bed. The infant's expression was carefully blank. "Stitches. Old, healed
stitches." Stitches. That meant long ago, Tsuna had tried to fix it himself.
The baby turned to look at them, as if they knew the answer, "Who stitched
Tsuna?"
Again, no one answered, because they didn't know.
They suddenly didn't know a lot about Tsuna. They've known him for years, and
suddenly, they didn't know who this stranger lying there with Tsuna's face was.
The occupants in the room watched with grim expressions as Bianchi worked to
clean up. There was dried crackles of blood on Tsuna's own face, from a
nosebleed, which was strange in itself. Yamamoto supplied quietly that he was
sure Tsuna's face hadn't made contact with anything with force. The roseate-
haired woman did the best she could on cleaning the welts but she wasn't quite
sure if her disinfectant made it on time. Only a professional could see that
but she wasn't even close to qualified.
No one offered to phone a doctor. They were clueless, and to put it frankly,
they were like sheep without their shepherd. But that didn't mean that they
wanted this information to get out of this room. They would only endanger
Tsuna's life if they involved more people into the situation. Mafia bosses
under critical states were kept secret in a select amount of people. If anyone
wanted to assassinate Tsuna, now was the perfect chance. They needed
confidentiality.
Reborn showed no emotions, absolutely none. His mouth was in a thin straight
line, eyes unreadable as he sat on the metal headboard over Tsuna's head.
Gokudera wasn't entirely sure if the baby was angry, or if he was worried, or
if he was sad. But it didn't make sense when the baby walked out of the room,
and Bianchi followed, worriedly at his tail. He supposed that the infant was
simply intolerant of the situation. Though he didn't know if that intolerance
was directed to himself or at Tsuna.
Ryohei, though with good intentions, couldn't stand staying in there for
another moment. Sitting with them to stare at Tsuna's legs. It came as no
surprise that he too left shortly after.
It was only the sounds of Gokudera, hunched over, wracking with quiet wails
that was left. Yamamoto was deathly quiet as he put an arm around his best
friend, his eyes not leaving Tsuna.
He was at loss of what to say to Gokudera.
He was just as devastated.
It'll be okay? Tsuna will be fine?
Somehow, it didn't sound right. Tsuna wasn't fine, he wasn't sure if he'd ever
be. And if their best friend kept this secret from them, he wasn't sure if it
would be okay either. It would just be a lie if he uttered reassurances. Every
consolation he came up with mentally sounded so wrong, so horribly
inappropriate.
But if he didn't say anything, he thought he would break just as well. He had
to be strong, because Tsuna and Gokudera were in no shape to be so. He forced
himself to say the first thing on his mind.
"I thought he wasn't going to do it at first." He said finally, softly. "But
then I saw the look in his eye. I knew that look. Because I had almost made the
same decision." The both of them took a moment to remember a naive Yamamoto,
young and still in middle school. He had been trying to jump from the roof
because his wrist had broken. He thought if he couldn't play baseball, then
there was no point in living. How silly he had been.
"But Tsuna saved me that one time. So I thought...I thought that maybe I could
do the same..." He trailed off.
There was a weighty silence, heavy with despair, it choked them both. He needed
to resume or else the quiet would simply kill him. "He looked at me when I
grabbed him," Yamamoto continued, swallowing thickly. Gokudera looked up from
his hands to stare with red rimmed eyes at the teen next to him. "He looked at
me, Gokudera, as if he hated me. He stared at me as if I had killed him on the
spot, when I was just trying to save him."
That had been before the bleeding started, before Tsuna blacked out, it was a
flash of sorrel-colored bitterness in the milliseconds in between.
The whole time riding home, he had been wondering if he imagined it.
But speaking about it only made it more real, and no, it hadn't been his
imagination.
Suddenly, it felt like they lost a friend, though he was lying right in front
of them, sleeping.
—
On October the sixteenth, he was walking by the Ninth's room when he heard
everything by accident.
The room would become Tsuna's office, when he was ready to level up from the
smallest one originally issued to him. But, given the circumstances, and
Reborn's impossible expectations, it wouldn't be for a long run. If you were to
ask him, he was sure Tenth was more than prepared to start the Inheritance. But
after what just happened at Santa Lucia, he honestly wasn't as sure.
Gokudera had been on his way downstairs to grab some breakfast for both him and
Yamamoto. They spent the night staring at Tsuna, and it made them exhausted.
"I don't think he's ready." Reborn said, bluntly. "Especially after a stunt
like that, he is far from ready."
He stilled at the doorway, and sending him at loss of what to do. Should he
continue by, and pretend he hadn't heard a thing? But, then again, this was
concerning his boss, so perhaps for the duty as a right hand man, it would be
wise to listen in. This was probably important. And, of course, his duty
outweighed any discomfort he may or may not have for eavesdropping.
So, settling with his decision, apprehensively, he slowly walked backwards and
planted his body to the wall next to the door, readying to duck into the next
room, if need be.
The Ninth continued, sounding terribly tired, "Then what did you bring him here
for?" He asked. It was more than likely Reborn had informed him of Tsuna's
condition. And he winced, wondering what the older Vongola successor thought of
his precious little heir now. He only prayed that he at least, still loved him,
regardless.
Reborn didn't answer for a moment. "I didn't want Hibari near him."
Gokudera froze. What?
Luckily, the Timoteo sounded just as bewildered as he felt, traces of
exhaustion gone and all that was left was shock. "The Cloud Guardian? What do
you mean?"
A wild-card frown, from the tone of the baby's voice, "Just as it sounds."
Reborn fingered a chess piece, the black king, holding it up to eye level and
squinting at its slated marble. An expensive heirloom set, he was sure. "The
Vongola Cloud Guardian as he never stood alongside the Famiglia, and never got
along with anyone, that he loved being alone."
"And your point is?" The Ninth questioned doggedly.
"He must remain alone." The baby tipped the black queen over.
What? His mind was trying to turn the idea in his head, trying to prove its
worth.
"I, I don't understand." Timoteo said at last.
"When a Cloud Guardian becomes attached," The beady eyes turned to measure the
older man's expression, "which isn't often, believe me, they become absolutely
useless to their family. They lose resolve, their attention becomes diverted,
even more so. They are intense creatures that hold onto a single resolve. It
becomes so extreme to the point where they don't listen to the family anymore,
but to their significant one."
"Isn't that a good thing?" The Ninth protested, in Hibari's defense. "Isn't it
good to have a Cloud Guardian that's willing to go that far for you?"
Gokudera fully agreed. So his suspicions had been right. Though he didn't know
why or how, Hibari and Tsuna had become close. Closer than Reborn actually
liked.
But why? He knew the guy was an asshole even at the best of times, but he
didn't deserve to be alienated for all that he was worth. As much as he
disliked the aloof bastard, he wouldn't wish ill-intent on him if he so wished
to joined them here. The least he would do would be grumbling openly on daily
basis if it came down to that.
If you were to ask Gokudera, Tenth was everyone's. Not just a single person's.
He wouldn't so selfishly hog his friend or covet him in a possessive level.
Once, he had thought like that, but he's grown to realize that it was
impossible to cage someone as kind and open as Tsuna. It was as useless as
trying to own the sky, because that was one thing that belonged to everyone in
this world.
It was strange Reborn thought like this. Because somewhere deep down inside,
Gokudera knew the baby actually favored Hibari a lot. Which meant that there
had to be a reason why he forcibly separated Tsuna from Hibari.
Reborn shook his head. "Can you say the same for yours? Visconti? To be the
aloof, drifting Clouds that protect the Family from an independent standpoint,
and whom nothing can ever bind. Even he understands that?"
There was a strained silence here. The kind which fell in icy stillness, piling
like pure white snow. Gokudera knew that the baby had hit something
particularity delicate.
Timoteo's returning quip was dry, "If you had a moment to sit down and think
about what you just said, perhaps you'd realize that not all Cloud Guardians
are the same." Shocked, he felt his ash-green eyes grow wide in their sockets.
He'd never heard the Ninth speak in such a withering way. The older man stood
up, dusting himself off.
The teenager edged away from the door slowly to hear the last of the argument
before he got up and continued down to the breakfast hall. "Sometimes, cold
calculations don't work for certain situations, Reborn."
Gokudera made quick on getting away, taking no hesitance as he fumbled down the
stairs, swaying slightly.
Reborn wanted to bring Tsuna here early, but only until now he realized that
there had been a reason for it. The baby had fully intended to separate the
two, to make sure Hibari knew his place. Gokudera was sure the same rules
applied to him, and it scared him that Reborn would actually try to rip him
away from Tenth if he so stepped out of line. Though he's not sure what line
Hibari had crossed that was so bad that 5947.144 miles between the two was
absolutely necessary.
But Tsuna had willingly went along to Italy, without much of a fight. He had
known the young boss had done it very grudgingly, but what if that had been an
act too? What if he was actually hurting inside? What if...
He didn't want to leave at all?
He walked numbly forward for a moment before an idea hit him.
A single, stupid idea.
But it was an idea, and it sounded like a good one, so he went with it. Turning
heel, Gokudera sprinted to Tsuna's study. It was empty, thank god it was empty.
He was about to do something very stupid and he wasn't sure if everyone would
approve of it. Hell, if Reborn didn't approve of it, no one approved it.
He threw himself behind Tsuna's desk and sat on the floor. He could have taken
a seat in the chair, but Gokudera really wasn't thinking straight. He took the
antique phone, bringing it next to him by a jerk of the cord, and dug for the
leather bound phone book from the cabinet behind him. He brought his knees to
his chest as he sifted through the pages with tired eyes.
He only knew one person who had a clue. He dialed Dino's number, the one he
gave to Tsuna in case of emergencies.
He waited out the first rings, deflating after the fifth, but by the sixth,
Dino picks up. "Hello?" The returning voice sounded very testy, obviously not
liking the disruption Gokudera brought. He was more than likely getting over a
hangover. He saw the Buckling Horse have more than a few drinks last night.
"Chiavarone, what is Hibari's number?"
There was a long-suffering sigh from the other line, "Why?" it was bit out. His
reason was probably not good enough.
"I need it. Please." He begged.
There was a pause. His plea was enough to alarm the other. Dino gave the digits
without any hesitation.
Muttering a thanks, Gokudera urgently pushed a fist on the receiver's crook and
began dialing the number he had already memorized. The next few rings were
agonizing, because he honestly wasn't sure if the asshole would actually pick
up.
But then, the line picked up. Then a dead-panned, "Hibari Kyoya."
At first, he was speechless. There were so many things he actually wanted to
say, but he choked. The bastard actually picked up. But that uninterested voice
shook something inside him, and quite childishly, he became angry. Though,
really, Hibari wasn't to blame for any of this. Blood rushed to his head
anyway. From what he's heard, the stupid fucker was chasing after Box Weapons
and making toys out of the damn things.
And what fired this anger was the fact that he was so oblivious to anything
that was happening over here. His sanity was being stripped apart like a fruit
peel while this damn fool was prancing around the world untethered to the
responsibilities Gokudera has willfully shouldered.
Did he even have a clue that Tsuna was sixteen now?
And, most naturally, nothing held him back as he began to let crude words flow
out freely, "Hibari, you mother fucker, where the fucking hell are you, goddamn
ass-wiping asshole running around, playing adventure while we're—,"
"Gokudera Hayato," Hibari voice cut in, icily. "If you are calling to insult
me, I suggest you hang up now."
The threat was clear in the air, but fuck that.
What the hell was he doing? He wasn't doing this because he wanted to give a
little jab at the Cloud Guardian, he was doing it for Tsuna. And he was Tsuna's
only hope now. He was the only one who knew something. He knew that Hibari had
to do with what happened a year ago, and it was the only lead he had. Even if
it was against Reborn's wishes, everyone knew only one person could help them
now.
Gokudera breathed in slowly, "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."
Only surprised silence met him. Served the bastard right, he thought with
vicious satisfaction. Bet he didn't see that coming. He shook the annoying
thought away. He was so vengeful sometimes, okay all the time. It was a bad
habit of his, one even he knew he had to fix.
"I'm sorry. I, I called to talk to you." He swallowed, and his voice sounded
like it was cracking. "Hibari," he breathed in, then out calmly. "Hibari, god,
Hibari, we need your help." Well, only he knew about this, but he wasn't going
to tell the other that anytime soon.
In the wake of his pleading, tears began leaking out of his eyes. Maybe it was
out of sorrow, maybe it was shame. But it didn't matter, his pride didn't
matter now, all that mattered was Tsuna and that was all the reason he needed.
Gokudera rubbed his sleeve against his eyes, pulling the phone away for a
moment and then brought it back. "Tenth tried to kill himself yesterday."
It sounded so wrong, saying it so openly like that. Even though he was alone,
even though he knew what the situation for what it really was, it still made
him feel horrible inside. Suicide. Tsuna tried to commit suicide. Tsuna was
suicidal. It sounded more real as he repeated it to himself silently. And the
more real it sounded, the more palpable it felt.
Tsuna was suicidal.
Tsuna was cutting himself.
It was blank definitions, like black text on white paper, but it was there and
it was quite inescapable.
At first, he thought the other hung up on him until, "I'm on my way."
He fought a tired smile, but relieved all the same, "Wait, do you even know
where we are?"
"Yes."
The phone was cut off.
And Gokudera felt, well, hope.
— Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend Somewhere along in the bitterness And I
would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life "How to
Save a Life" by The Fray
Chapter End Notes
     AN: Okay.
     I'm wondering how I did. I felt like I didn't put enough on the train
     scene. It felt awkward as I wrote it out, but I'm hoping it made
     enough sense as you read on. How did I do? For those of you who don't
     know, Yamamoto had actually tried to kill himself in canon. It was
     only in the manga however, they really wouldn't put that in the
     anime. So I found it appropriate how he was the one to save Tsuna
     this time around. I don't mean for Reborn to be an antagonist, I
     didn't even want to portray him as a character you should hate. He
     just doesn't know anything. But I'm sure he has an idea now and may
     be more lenient to Hibari and Tsuna in the future.
     Thank you sweet-and-simple for your awesome socks beta-ing! Ah, but I
     sort of rewrote/added some new things here. The version of this
     chapter is not the one you beta'd up to date recently. ;-; Next
     chapter, we're finally going back into Tsuna's perspective. Which
     means more about his final decision at the train station and more
     about Piet Botticelli. Does that name sound familiar to you? I'll
     give you a hint: go back to chapter six.
***** Chapter 19 *****
===============================================================================
AN: Back from my hiatus with a big bang! Yeah, an update, with what is quite
possibly one of my most favorite chapters I've ever written. I kid you not.
We're back in Tsuna's perspective now. The following events take place up to
where Tsuna jumps onto the railtracks.
Also, because Tsuna's monologue was simply monstrously long, I had to split it
up into two! I hope you enjoy!
===============================================================================
                                  BESTIALIZED
                               CHAPTER NINETEEN
For a lack of a better word, he was tired.
He was so tired.
Routinely, he reorganized himself. What day was it? Monday, was the answer that
echoed dimly. What time? About three twenty-five in the morning, something
returned like a whisper.What date? August thirteenth, firmly stated. He
remembered this because Gokudera told him the date two days ago. Today was
August thirteenth. And the same could be said for tomorrow. And the day after
that.
Though he knew that was impossible, that there couldn't be August the
thirteenth back to back to back. His brain forced him to believe it anyway. It
had stopped caring on trying to process useless things such as time. What
difference was there in a Monday and a Tuesday? Absolutely none.
Tsuna sat atop the sheets of his bed, legs spread out in front of him as the
headboard supported his back. Tonight, he at least had the semblance on
remembering to dress in his night pajamas. He found out the hard way that
waking up from a restless dreamless sleep to find that you were in the pressed
suit you passed out in was very uncomfortable.
It was dark, the room drenched in an inky black, but his eyes had more than
enough time to adjust. Even then, he could hardly make out the colors of his
room, though, by now, he should have known what they were by heart. At least
his tired eyes could see the outlines of the walls surrounding him. They hadn't
yet become discernible white blobs, which meant he hadn't become totally
insane.
Scattered around his body were things that he were not suppose to have in his
possession. Things he promised he would never deliberately seek out again.
Bottle caps. They littered at the ends of his feet, some at each side of his
hips. They laid innocently atop the covers with him, fanned around him like
children's trading cards. If only it was that simple. He had lost count of how
many he had in his possession now. But it wasn't as if he had a sea of them;
no, that was too many for even his standards. It was just slightly more than
what he smuggled a year ago. More than fourteen, he supposed.
His thumb ran gently against the jagged ridges of the bottle cap. He didn't
know the color of the one he was turning slowly in his hand, but he really
honestly didn't care.
Tsuna didn't care about a lot of things, lately.
Minutes passed, though it didn't entirely feel applied to him anymore. By four
forty-five in the morning, and as much as he tried, he still could not close
his eyes and just sleep. It had been almost nearly a whole cycle since he'd
tried, and the last time he actually had to wait until he fell into a desperate
faint. He considered taking pills, deep soothing Nyquil to throw him into
welcome unconsciousness.
It would become necessary soon enough. He knew that if he didn't get any sleep,
others would notice his restlessness, how tired he was. He didn't want that. So
he needed sleep.
Tsuna entertained the idea of having his friends realize what was wrong with
him, what had happened to him. What's the worse they could do? Fear him? Be
disappointed in him? Leave? Oh yes, they would leave. And he would not have
that, because even the thought of it now sent ice down his spine. He would
rather die than have his friends leave him because of his moment of weakness.
He thought they were the reason why he was trying hard. Why he proceeded to
carry out this lie. Why he never gave up, not once.
But he could not help the desire of someone finding out. He was tired. He was
tired of secrets, tired of hiding, tired of pretending. A dark, selfish part of
him wanted them to understand. To help him. He was becoming desperate.
So Tsuna slowly, ever so slowly, pulled the bottle cap in his hand back. He
winded his wrist behind his ear.
And threw.
The bottle cap flung across the dark room, and he watched it soar briefly
before hitting the wall with a particularly mute tap. And, if he was correct,
that was the area above Gokudera's headboard.
And he silently dared the other to hear it as he threw another. Tap.
Notice me.
—
"Get up from bed, Tsuna."
But he didn't want to, not really.
There was no one else in the room but him. The words were meant for himself.
It was hopeless. He tried his hardest to sleep and still it wouldn't come to
him. What did he have to do? Flip tricks and give treats to his subconscious?
Hoping that would cause the restless little thing to relent?
He couldn't believe his stupidity last night. He actually, deliberately, tried
to egg Gokudera on. Find me? Notice me? Those were luxuries he could not
afford, did not have enough to pay up the price. Actually, he didn't deserve
it, really, even if he could. He was lucky that the ash-green eyed teen had not
heard his repeated hits on the wall. Lucky he hadn't burst through the heavy
maple door and saw the torn flesh of Tsuna's thighs as he stared methodically
at the wall in front of him.
What was wrong with him? He asked himself dully as a single vague alarm rang
through his body at the off-handed nature. Why was he so, so calm about all
this?
And worse, why didn't he care?—He rubbed his ears to rid himself of the sound
of rumbling metal, like trains approaching fast—
No, if he truly sat down and thought about it, then he'd reach the same answer.
Anemia. Attacks. Why did it suddenly matter to him at all? It came free with
choice as the air they all breathed did. You could choose to breathe. And you
breathe. But you can choose to hurt yourself, and you hurt yourself. What was
the real difference, really? It wasn't like both were an actual requirement.
Not anymore.
There was a constant, irritated voice that spoke to him at the most loneliest
of times, and it sounded like his voice. "Take a shower, Tsuna." The voice said
again, and, slowly, he sat up and trudged to his personal bathroom. But he
didn't need to, not really.
If that voice wasn't there to tell him to do things, he didn't think he would
bother getting out of bed to put on a face again. To pretend everything was
fine and normal. Which it was. It was.
He avoided looking in the mirror but ended up doing it anyway. He was
disgusting, a niggling whisper said, when the monotonous expression screamed
back at him. And, much to his dismay, there were more red flicks in the white
of his eyes. He was hoping that, by staying in the dark, they would recede. But
they've returned, and at full power too. He mechanically reached into his
cabinet, pointedly past the gauze and disinfectant for his thighs, and went for
a small green plastic bottle.
It was triple action relief artificial drops. It felt like heaven on his dry
eyes and he blinked the excess away. They roll down his cheeks, giving an eerie
illusion of real tears. The red wasn't as bad when he finished. After five
minutes, it only left slight pinks in the corners of his eyes. Nothing out of
the ordinary. Tsuna watched it in the mirror for one more minute before he
began stripping.
The shower was uneventful.
Everything was uneventful.
Tsuna sort of just stood there, staring at white tiles until he decided that he
was tired of water too. And that didn't take too long. Cleaning himself didn't
hold much of an appeal as it did the first few months. It was too late for him.
Why should he even try? It took too much effort, and even if he put a whole day
into sloughing off his skin, it wouldn't matter, and it made little difference.
What he had become was irreversible, there was no sense in trying to change
that.
He gave one last withering look at his reflection in the mirror.
—the train will only be passing through please hold onto your ticket so during
boarding the one way trip—
There was no recurring flinch at seeing the welts on his thighs. It should have
horrified him that he didn't care but he couldn't find the energy to amuse the
thought. He dimly knew that he was a wreck—like a train wreck—. He knew it.
But, quite frankly, again, he didn't care.
"Get dressed," he muttered softly, the voice distractingly reminded him he had
something he was supposed to be doing. Good, at least that part of him was
still functioning rather well. He still did mind appearances. That, at least,
counted for something.
Shaking his head with tired eyes, he padded out to his room on bare feet, towel
wrapped over his shoulders in a tight hold by his fisted hands. Throwing open
his closet, he took a moment to assess it. He reached out to a standard black
dress suit, mind blank and unthinking. It was amazing how, only less than a
year ago, he had been so clueless on how to tie a knot in a necktie. Now, it
was more than a little frightening how he didn't even register when his hands
worked at it. He dressed up everyday in a suit now. It had become such a
routine that he barely even noticed he was wearing it until it was on. But
then, even noticing was tiring.
He pulled himself out of his reverie with difficulty. His mind had been
wandering lately. It had been wandering for an eternity when, in reality, it
had only been a year. Real life had failed to offer him anything stimulating
enough to pay attention to and, as a result, his mind had taken to grasping on
to any shred of thought and running rampant with it.
He made his way downstairs. Steeled himself at the bend of the threshold, took
a deep breath in. Then turned into the kitchen and greeted everyone a good
morning with a smile and a yawn.
Like he was sleepy. And, yes, he was tired. He wondered vaguely if the ache in
his chest was even an act. A plate of food was set in front of him and, for a
moment, he stared at it blankly. Breakfast was adequate enough to keep hunger
pangs away, that was all. But he made a show to enjoy it just as much as
everyone else.
They're speaking about something. Though he listened, it went in one ear and
out the other. He was becoming a pretty good guesser, though. Yamamoto had been
making a tirade in explaining something interesting because his eyes were lit
up. So Tsuna took on being attentive and nodded at pauses and stops in between
sentences.
"Lal Mirch was the one that perfected our technique, but actually, we decided
to try the idea when we saw what Hibari did with Genkishi—,"
The name Hibari seemed to jar him for the first time in days. He blinked away
the rushing coursing through his body. Like an instinct. Oh, that was right.
He was still infatuated with the older teen.
And the distance was still not working. Sad. He had hoped by now the feelings
would recede into a dull ache, a scab at best. But the gaping echo in his chest
was still as empty and fresh as the day he made it.
Gokudera distracted him well enough so that he didn't fall into self-loathing
despair. It was his birthday soon. Which was strange because he thought it was
still August thirteenth. But, apparently, it was now September twenty-sixth. He
said it once, and he'd say it again: did it matter? Tomorrow and the rest of
his life, time would end up being September twenty-sixth. Same difference.
—will ensure that station staff is aware that you are on the station and they
can go about their duties without concern as to your reasons for being there—
So he agreed to whatever plans they made. As long as he didn't make it himself,
therefore putting himself in a spotlight, than he was fine.
"Go upstairs, Tsuna," he quivered his lips to himself more than actually saying
it aloud. He knew well enough that it was fairly abnormal to speak to yourself
in third person. He skidded the chair back with an obnoxious screech, because
being clumsy and noisy was a normal thing for Sawada Tsunayoshi. He left his
plate on the table, and he had gotten more than used to his staff cleaning up
after he eats. He was lucky. They never questioned the wad of chewed food he
always left in the napkins.
—
Tap.
He threw ten a night. Though he wasn't sure why such an exact number mattered
to him.
Tap.
Tap.
On what marked the fifth night he began to throw the bottle caps against the
wall, help came. Tsuna was already ready to close his eyes as the last one
soared from his hand.
A knock at his door had all but awakened him with a violently awareness.
Gokudera's voice came from the other side of the thick wood of his door
separating them, a soft whisper of inquiry, "Tenth?"
Something in Tsuna's chest leapt at this familiar presence in the dark,
pleading, begging to his uncertain inhibitions. Help is here. Help is here.
There was a chance, a hope in this never-ending timeless repeat. "Gokudera-
kun?" was the instant reply. He kept his voice low, quiet, soft and unassuming,
as he stared wide eyed at the door. His whole body was shaking in relief.
"Is something wrong?" Gokudera asked in return.
Yes! Yes, everything was wrong! Yes, he had been hiding things! Yes, he needed
help! The instant waves, screaming truths, crashed over the shore of his
forefront mind, sending him into a dizzying state of unnatural reality. He
needed his friends, he needed to talk to somebody, anybody, about what had
happened to him. It didn't matter if they didn't understand, it made no
difference if they didn't believe him. He needed Gokudera, he needed needed
needed him.
"No," Tsuna replied. "Nothing is wrong. Why?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, he froze. His eyes got impossibly wide.
His lips quivered. Because inside, he knew. That hadn't been him speaking. It
was that voice. The voice that sounded like his own, the one that kept him
sheltered and safe from the insecurities he so feared. And now, it was still
protecting him, auto-piloting words that came as easy as breathing.
"Oh, nothing. I just, I was worried."
No!NO! That wasn't what he meant! Tell him! Tell him now!
"I'm alright." Tsuna said, voice warm. "You can go back to sleep."
"If," There was an uncertain pause. "If you're so sure. Goodnight, Tenth."
"Goodnight, Gokudera-kun."
He listened to the footsteps back away and recede to aching silence.
He went back to sleep.
—
His lower back was sore, his neck cricked in an uncomfortable manner as he
winded it back into place. He blearily sat up from his lying position on the
floor, his muscles protesting in painful spasms. He blinked very slowly, stared
at his socked feet, his rumpled suit, and remembered that he had simply walked
through the door and fell on the floor last night.
The crack of blue light was peeking through the curtain folds stubbornly,
despite the fact that he had strung the draperies down so no ounce of sun would
seep in. It was very early morning, a dewy dawn actually, if he was to attempt
to be poetic.
Vaguely, it registered to him like a spot on the floor: it was the fourteenth
of October. Or, more informally, his sixteenth birthday. And, almost even
ironically, a week from now marked the sixteenth month of that night. Sixteen
long months. And he hadn't told a soul. Only technically, never voluntarily.
His carelessness and his desire to have someone discover him was overriding his
mentality.
—You may require a platform ticket to allow access to platforms—
He gritted his teeth hard, the soft bones grinding in thought as he slowly
stood up.
He felt rattled, shaken by the events that suddenly dawned to him. Now more
than ever, many were going to be watching him. Complete strangers were setting
foot in his space, breathing the air he didn't want anymore. He couldn't avoid
this, even if he wanted to. And he really didn't want to. But to cancel the
party at this stage would only rouse great suspicion.
Tsuna got ready, staring at his all too familiar reflection in the bathroom
mirror again, and wondered where he went wrong.
—
At exactly seven in the evening, guests began filtering into the manor in an
array of foreign black sleeted cars. He stood back, close to the thick white
curtains that interrupted the red wallpaper, hidden from everyone as he took a
moment to collect himself. From the window, he recognized the faces that
meandered inside as they stepped out of their vehicles.
Delicate tinkling piano music could be heard below from the spiraling staircase
and he knew by instinct that it was not Gokudera playing, but a hired hand.
Peeking past the marbled banister, he stared at the twining circles and
listened to the low murmuring of the guests that accrued in the ballroom
entrance. The grand hall was decorated with a personal touch, via his family
who had thoughtfully made a birthday banner in his name. He appreciated the
thought and smiled dimly as he watched the arriving guests sign the long
parchment.
"Boss," A timid voice spoke up behind him.
Tsuna turned around immediately, a smile already on his face. A single warm
orchid-shaded eye met his line of sight, the other covered by a delicately
ornate patch. She wore a nice royal mulberry scallop dress with a satin black
lace accent and matching heels. "Chrome!" he exclaimed as he backpedaled to
stand at comfortable distance from her, facing her. "Thanks for coming, it's
nice to see you." He made his gaze warm, the tilt of his lips turning upwards.
There was a moment of hesitance.
But, instead of greeting him back as expected, she shook her head with sad
eyes. "Boss," She said again, firmly, which made him pause.
He regarded her for a minute with a slow blink.
Her words were quick and easily spilled, as if she had been trying to recite
them mentally before confronting him. He wondered how long she stood behind
him, just, watching him. "You were the one that taught me that it was perfectly
alright to show my feelings, even express them to... friends, when I needed
to."
Tsuna stared.
Chrome continued, "I learned from you that, with comrades and people you trust,
it was more than okay, natural even, to rely on them." She finished with a
nervous swallow, "Boss, just remember that I want to be here for you also. I
want you to rely on me, us, when you need it."
There was pregnant silence.
And then, the tumultuous wave of helplessness came again, sweeping him off his
feet and he fell to the wet scatted shambles of his grip on the situation.
Help. Help was right here in the form of someone who he hadn't spoken to or
seen for so long. Help came from someone who hadn't seen the progression of his
dramatic transformation. But perhaps that was what had struck the hardest. How
changed he had become. The contrast of him then and now was rising to lengths
he'd longed stopped trying to control.
Tell her. Tell her.
"Chrome, it's been about a year and four months since I've last seen you."
Tsuna said, reaching out to gently touch the ends of amethyst strands. "Your
hair is longer. Are you planning on growing it out?"
Her one eye blinked, her brow furrowing as she struggled to keep up, "I, well,
yes, maybe, but Boss..."
"You know," Tsuna said softly over her, "If I did have something bothering me,
I would definitely tell you, Chrome."
The orchid-eye flicked uncertainly to her feet and then back to meet his eyes.
Taking advantage of her doubt, he nailed the final blow quickly, "Thank you for
worrying, but everything is quite alright." He rewarded her with a short, light
laugh that usually won others over. He made due to divert her attention
elsewhere. "I think you should worry about Ken though," he gestured to the end
of the hall where the Kokuyo and Ryohei were shouting over one another, "He's
making a terrible mess out of the confectionery table."
She smiled softly in return, nodded, and retreated back to the dining hall.
—do not trespass onto any area of the railway that is not available to
passengers. Do not climb onto any structure or interfere with platform
equipment—
Tsuna's smile fell as she left.
—
The rest of the night came as a whirlwind of sad confusion. His morals and
inhibitions, his desire and desperation came crashing into one another like
contradicting air pockets that met at dangerous altitudes. His resolution was
wheeling back and forth as he spoke to his guests with ever perfectly clumsy
attempts at appearing normal. He spoke to women and children most of the time,
almost strictly if he could help it. His closest companions were an exception
to this rule, however.
He sometimes nodded at the men, poker-faced and unfeeling. Even when sweat
broke out inside his stuffy suit, he was proud that he remained undeterred to
their gazes.
He met Shamal's line of sight more than once, there was no avoiding that. But
there was an unspoken suspicion in the man's eyes as he took in the sixteen
year old's appearance. His expression seemed to dare Tsuna to admit what he'd
been doing for the past year and a half. It was more than a little tempting to
take up the offer. At least Shamal had been a part of his recovery eons ago.
There was a hope inside him that he could help him again, but, perhaps, that
was asking too much.
A drastic change came over his friends he hadn't seen for a very long time.
Enma had grown taller, just about everyone had, and he still felt dwarfed by
them. They had nothing holding back their spurts, nothing like—denying himself
food, cutting up his legs, jumping off cliffs, falling in love—he had been
doing to himself.
Tsuna gratifyingly introduced himself to the people he'd never met and held his
ground even when the fear became a little too much. He wanted nothing more than
to retreat with his tail between his legs, hide behind a curtain to kneel down
and breathe into his kneecaps. He was growing confidence in himself as the
night aged, that was, until the cake.
If there was one thing he had done and would have hit himself for was the fact
that he hadn't prepared a speech.
Dino helpfully garnered everyone's attention with a gentle ring of his spoon
against his flute of champagne and led the attention to Tsuna. He stumbled over
words at times, but overall gave a very nice, pleasing finish that left an
impression on even the hardest of expectant guests. He was improving much
better on speaking to larger crowds, despite his even extreme anti-social
tendencies as of late.
He gestured everyone to return to enjoying themselves, relief flooding the end
of his nerve-wracking spotlight. The words of congenial dismissal died on his
tongue when he spotted an extravagant chocolate cake teetering on four wheels
towards him. Bianchi held the handles, pushing the cake closer.
Tsuna was ushered into a chair that was pulled to the center and he flopped
back into it awkwardly as the giant confectionery rolled to a stop in front of
him. There was something about this cake that made him want to throw up, to
spill his guts all over the marble floor with no qualms about what others
thought. Not because his stomach was upsetting him, but because of what the
desert really stood for.
Trust.
This chocolate five layered cake was a symbol made in trust, for friendship,
and they cared about him.
But, after all he did, he didn't deserve this trust, this friendship.
"Is this really necessary?" He asked with a slight nervous laugh, eying it
warily. Though his expression could easily be discerned as modesty, all he
wanted was for the thing to catch on fire so he wouldn't have to deal with it.
"Of course!" Reborn said from his side, with a joking smile, "It's your
birthday. And mine. But whatever. Make a wish, Stupid-Tsuna, before I shoot
them off." There was a roundabout laughter at this, although most who really
knew the infant actually understood how true the words rung.
And then everyone began singing.
Outside, Tsuna grinned at the faces of his friends, wide and unobtrusive. But,
inside, he was screaming.
Please, he begged them with a smile, please don't do this.
Buon Compleanno a te,
If they were really his friends, they would notice. They would notice his
pleading gaze behind the glass he put between them. They would see past his
demeanor for what it truly was, see the slump in his shoulders and the red
flecks in the white of his eyes. They would notice his smile dropping when they
looked away, his desperation to leave quickly so they could remain perfectly
ignorant.
He did it for them.
Buon Compleanno a te,
He willed them to notice his shouts for help, his pounding against the walls of
confinement. For them to notice the water filling up his lungs, cruelly
snatching his breath away. How could they not see the hands that wrung his neck
day by day, hear the voice that overrode his true words? How could they not see
Pietro standing over him? Following him to the most private of places, beating
him black and blue and ruining, penetrating him in the most intrusive of ways.
How could they not see that he had been hurt? That he had been begging for them
toplease, please,just find him?
Weren't they his friends?
Buon Compleanno, Tsuna,
And he realized, at that instilled moment, he wasn't just looking for
disturbance in the montony, he was looking for someone to notice him. He was
looking for someone to reach out to him. Because, if they were really friends,
they would see that he'd been suffering for so long all by himself. That he had
been dying a little every day just so they could live another hour, happy.
He did everything for them. He sacrificed everything he had for them. Time and
time and time and time again.
Buon Compleanno a te!
Tsuna screamed one last time, and then the voice was back, covering his dying
cry with the grace of a long laugh. He blew out his candles with a big puff of
cheeks for show. He smiled widely when he was finished and the room erupted
into applause and cheers.
The sounds of trains—all passengers are advised to stay clear of the platform
edge and behind the yellow lines where they are provided for safety
reasons—were overriding his hearing process and he did nothing to muffle it.
===============================================================================
AN: Thank you all for being so considerate for me when I went hiatus. I didn't
get any messages in my inbox, and though, at first I was originally upset that
no one wondered where I was, I realized that you guys were giving me space to
breathe. Which I'm entirely grateful for, you all have no idea. I'm back,
definitely wasn't going anywhere, and ready to start regulating my chapters
again. You're all so awesome! Thank you for being so kind and patient with my
disappearing act!
I'm sorry for dropping off the face of the planet more than once, simple-and-
sweet, thank you for betaing this chapter. I look forward to working with you
again!
—
I have disabled anonymous reviews from this point on. So I'm apologizing to the
sweet anons, you know who you are. Thank you, I would still like to hear from
you ! ;n; Don't hesitate to make an account and send a little pm, I'd still
love to talk to you!
***** Chapter 20 *****
Chapter Notes
     AN: A continuation of last chapter (wow we're on chapter twenty!)
     Thank you for the r&r, guys. The encouragement was so sweet. I'm
     sorry if I didn't reply to some of the reviews! It's really difficult
     going through them, but I can tell you with 100% confidence that I
     read all of them and I love them all equally. Thank you everyone!
     TRIGGER WARNINGS: It's been awhile. But I think I have to put this
     here to brace you all. Disturbing psychological content with graphic
     descriptions of blood and flesh. Attempt suicide.
     Do keep in mind that this chapter is unbeta'd so do expect many
     mistakes, all of which are my own.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
BESTIALIZED
CHAPTER TWENTY
He could barely hold himself upright as the cake was divided and distributed
among the guests. He kept a gratifying stretch of his lips, which began hurting
from the effort, until the crowd began dispersing once more about the hall.
Tsuna felt empty, cold, sickened as he wandered idly through the strangers
invited to the worst birthday ever. Or last.
What?
He stumbled for a moment, had to still his feet because he began palpitating
with a rate that shot through the roof from the stray thought.
Before he could think more into what he had just uttered mentally, Enma was
speaking to him, calmly, unknowingly. He thanked the black in the sky for the
obliviousness Kyoko and Haru practically brandished as they crowded close to
them. From the unconcerned blather that spewed from their mouths in pitched
excited tones, they had no idea of his agony.
He smiled placidly as moments went by, not realizing his failure or his
inability to cope with the demands of a normal social environment such as his
own birthday. It was more than a little disheartening. The realization of just
how much, or more appropriately, so littlethey cared about him was like a
gunshot to the shoulder. Most frustratingly, it wasn't fatal, but it hurt so
much when it bled and spilled through his barriers that he wished it was.
Tsuna was contemplating whether or not he should excuse himself from the lull
of their exchange when he felt a tug at his elbow. Reflexively, he knew better
than to react to the touch, but the only tightening of his eyes was the only
indication of his discomfort.
"Tenth, this is Botticelli. He just came in." Gokudera said, hand still gently
at the joint of his arm.
Ah. Yes, he knew of the Botticelli family, only because he had been forced to
learn about the mafia guests in his party. The name came up as a vague
recollection from the list he had stared at in the privacy of his study. Tsuna
turned to look up at the slowly approaching man at Gokudera's side.
Tsuna may have blacked out for a moment.
He's never changed.
He dressed in a pressed double breasted cream-colored suit. He was still tall
and had his black hair slicked back on the sides with linseed oil. The only
difference was the fact that they were both standing at full height now, he
could see his face clearly in the light, so much that the sudden clarity of
this ghost physically hurt. He had a perfect tan, and an even more flawless set
of white teeth.
For a moment, he thinks he must be experiencing a terrible vividly disturbing
nightmare. It's happened more than once, he ended up awakening to his muffled
screams each time. Because this was impossible. There was no way this was the
same man standing in front of him.
"Hello," Pietro said, holding out a hand to the young mafia boss. "It's very
nice to meet you, Tenth of Vongola. My name is Piet Botticelli. I write books."
Tsuna could only stare helplessly at him, trying to force his face into a
picture-perfect calm. His eyes felt glossed in numbing shock over as he took
his appearance, his voice, the way the others were paying curious apt attention
to him. He wasn't imagining him. Oh god he was right there. He didn't trust his
voice and everything in his body was roaring at him to put as much distance
between them as possible but his brain was missing the quota.
It's only by luck that no one truly expected any reply from Tsuna and Haru
interjects, "What kind of books?" Her brown curls bouncing against her puffy
mint-colored sleeve in a quick movement that unsettled him.
He watched Pietro's hand fall, but nothing in the man's pleasant mask dropped.
He doesn't know why his stomach is eating itself as he turned to Haru, "Oh,
books on prescription drugs. The Botticelli family are quite well known among
the mafia for medicinal purposes, darling. I'm a doctor of sorts. Part time
bio-chemist."
Pietro flashed a smile, but only a fit observer like Tsuna, could see the bare
of teeth that was directed to him. His throat tightened and convulsed as the
girls decidedly looked charmed by Pietro, sporting identical flushes on their
fair cheeks.
Something in their reaction sent Tsuna over the edge of tumulting incredulity.
Pietro turned his attention back to Tsuna and he tried not to throw up. "Tenth
of Vongola, I would actually like to speak with you for a moment. I'm
interested in the direction you're taking on the matter of the Hyper Dying Will
pills. We were the ones to have made those, you know."
He managed to pick out 'speak with you' and 'we made Dying Will pills'. The
former made him want to hide, run away from the obvious scrutiny Pietro's gaze
rocked him in, but the latter overrode his revulsion and jarred him.
Dry-throated, Tsuna spoke up, "You did?"
"Oh yes. The Hyper Dying Will Mode removes external limiters on the body and
uses pressure during a crisis. It removes internal limiters, therefore releases
the user's hidden awareness. I'm sure you're quite familiar with the
sensation." The talk about Dying Will had left the girls in the dust, and they
gradually grew more confused as the conversation went on. They knew what it
was, but they didn't quite understand how it felt. Enma on the other hand,
looked very interested.
"I'm trying to develop an even more advance version, one that can last for more
than hours at a time. And without much strain on the body."
"Oh, that sounds wonderful," Kyoko said, eyes wide in elation of the idea, "I
mean, I never realized how much it could actually hurt Tsuna-kun."
They turned to look at Tsuna, as if waiting for his input.
It carved through him in arcs like a knife-happy killer as he took in his
supposed friend's undivided attention to the one man that had ruined his life.
Where he had been struggling to keep them at a safe distance, it only seemed
like it welcomed them to befriend complete utter unassuming strangers. Where he
had been begging for them to notice, to help, to save him, it was like they
weren't truly putting an effort in return. If they had been more watchful,
alert, if they had cared maybe they would have seen that the man that defiled
and turned him into athing was the one they were eying appreciatively.
Something hot and messy coursed through his body as the awareness of his
situation struck him.
Anger.
He was angry.
Followed closely by was utter unmistakeable betrayal.
"That sounds fantastic." He finally spoke blankly.
He spit it out. Coldly, but oh so subtly, he must never forget that.
Tsuna was having a hard time hiding his crushing disappointment as the
attention moved away from him to focus once more on Pietro. If he had the
energy, he would have felt justly indignant, but the situation was breaking and
taxing him to an all time low now. His shoulders dropped, in a slightly visible
way. And he saw something flicker in Pietro's dark eyes, he looked smug even,
as if this was a battle he's already won. In a way, he's right, because Tsuna
had already given up.
Pietro went on with his lecture, pulling the attention from Tsuna further. His
smart calculated words began to run over one another as Tsuna desperately tuned
him out, and he had this urge to clamp his hands over his ears like a child. He
slowly began backing away, away, away, away. The heels of his expensive shoes
met the marbled floor without resistance. He was so tired of being here, tired
of putting up an effort that wasn't being acknowledged, tired of placing a face
over his fear.
He was so scared.
And if the disappointment was crushing when they forgot about him just after
he's only spoken three words, their failure to see him leave with a heaving
chest made him want to kill himself.
He tried not to look like he was running away as he darted silently to the edge
of the ballroom and slipped through a fold of curtains. He dared not step out
and opted to take the long way around behind the draperies towards the empty
wide foyer. He didn't know what he looked like right now, but by his
uncontrollable breathing it was enough to convince him to remain hidden.
Finally after circling the room behind the blood-red shrouds,completely
disgustingly still unnoticed, he quickly moved into the empty hallway and up
the hollowed stone steps. He didn't care if he was leaving his own party
unexcused. He's already put up with them far too long enough for the night.
He's just about turning the corner towards the long elegant lines of master
bedrooms when something catches in his peripheral vision.
A hand reached out to him and muffled his instant scream.
He was dragged to the wall. The violent resounding crack! of Tsuna's head
against the plaster rung through the still air, the world at a standstill as
his eyes met dark ones.
"Listen to me, and listen to me good, Tenth of Vongola," was the hiss that
sliced through the darkened hallway. "I have a proposition for you."
Tsuna doesn't need a moment to identify the man. He knows the voice. The hand.
The body crushing his against the wall. He could never forget. He hasn't for a
year and four months. He suckles in breath through his teeth in stuttered gasps
as déjà vupushed him up further and pulled a second hand to his throat and
squeezed meaningfully. Oh god please nonotagainplease!
But Tsuna is ready this time, and he's not defenseless, he knows this.
Fire spreads through his body in a heartbeat concocted with pure adrenaline as
he wraps his own hand around the wrist that held his throat. He rips the hand
away, pulling his legs up to his torso to kick Pietro away from him. His feet
meets his chest with a satisfyingthump and the older man cushions his stumbles
with steady feet. With renewed vigor, Pietro grasp a fistful of Tsuna's hair
and slammed his head against the wall again.
He is disorientated for a moment before he rounds over and swings a hit towards
the area between the other's legs, playing fair be damned.
But something cold and sharp impaled his arm. The shocking sensation only
seemed to worsen as somethingwatery pushed into him. Immediately, the effect
spread and he began to feel the same horrifying nothing as that night a year
and four months ago. His body slacked, and fell to the floor limply.
Pietro is huffing above him, pushing a dark fringe back with a palm slicked
with sweat. His eyes darken further as a tan hand reaches down and pulled Tsuna
by his neck's cuff and back into the wall. This time, with no resistance on the
teen's part.
Tsuna's lips trembled and paled, his eyes grew impossibly wide in their sockets
that it hurt and were dilating so bad that he could feel his irises
disappearing under the dominating black pupil. He felt hot, but then cold one
second, but both extreme temperatures left a terrifying clammy sweat that
soaked through his shirt.
"Do you like it?" Came the derisive whisper, "I've improved it since we've last
met. It lasts longer and its effects are fast-acting." Pietro teasingly wiggled
an empty syringe at his face. Tsuna followed it with his fuzz-veiled eyes,
unblinking.
He braced himself for what was to come, and despite his lack of control over
his body, his muscles tightened in fear. The older man must have seen it in his
eyes because he let out a soft chain of pitying chuckles, "Unfortunately, we
can't put it to the test tonight. I'm only here to give you fair warning, a
suggestion of sorts. And I doubt you'll ignore it."
A hand raked down Tsuna's chest and rested over his thigh in mock-reverence.
Their eyes flickered down then back up to meet each other but their varying
expressions were a far cry different. "I know all about the cute things you've
been doing all this time since then in the privacy of your bedroom." Pietro's
eyes moved down to smile at Tsuna's legs.
But how? How could anyone, ever, how could anyone ever know about that? He
could only count the possibilities in one hand and even that couldn't give
leverage as to why.
"I know all about your adorable cuts, sweetheart. And I have to say, you make
me proud of myself. You're a true work of art. Hey—," Tsuna's breathing was
dangerously shallow and his vision was turning black in the corners. Pietro
snapped loudly, jerking him against the wall. "No falling asleep. I still
haven't gotten to the best part, you littleslut."
Tsuna could not help but close his eyes at the familiar nickname, despite the
rough slam it rewarded him. "I'll cut straight to the chase. You, haha, you
belong to me now. I think you've realized that by now, no matter what you do I
will always be there, you understand baby?"
Tsuna didn't nod, he didn't even react.
"And since you belong to me, so does the Vongola family. You know what that
means, baby?" Pietro leaned in, whispering intimately, "Your friends? Your
guardians? Your tutor? They belong to me. I will have the Vongola rock-hard
support on my extensive medical research. I need a sponsor baby, you're the
best there is, and you can provide that. And I do believe the ends justify the
means. I'm doing a good cause, you understand, it would bring balance to the
world. This is really some ground breaking stuff."
Many things run through his mind as the words were whispered into the tip of
his nose.
What could Pietro be doing that required the Vongola family for financial
support? It had to be big, huge even. A cure? A disease? Horror slithers up his
spine. It would be so wrong, his family, their organization he fought so hard
to step out of the shadows of the previous bosses causing a worldwide epidemic.
There would be so many consequences. No one would be safe his mother, the
girls, the children, they would be involved. But Tsuna didn't have to go along
with this, as far as his family's safety was concerned. He had zero desire to
support Pietro at all.
He takes a moment to assess Tsuna's lack of reaction. "And you know why you
won't try to escape me?"
There was a wicked stretch of teeth. "One word, sweetheart. Bestiality."
Tsuna stared, his breathing stilled.
"Everything that you do, everything that you touch, you will remember this. I
own you. No matter where you run, where you scurry off and hide to, I will
always be right there. You will never forget who wears the belt in our
relationship, darling. You simply lived too long with it to give it up now."
And he realized, that he was right. All this time he's been using his fear, his
obsessiveness as a crutch. He's longed forgotten how to use courage and
nobility as a constant thrum to continue on. Taking it away would only throw
him into a relapse he wouldn't be able to control. His fear, his animalistic
depravity, was the only thing keeping him going and awake for every minute he
lived. It was the only thing that kept him safe, kept him cautious of others,
even his friends. He was right.
—NO, that's a lie, if they knew, theywouldhelp,don'tlistentohim—
"I can see it in your eyes. Don't you see? If they had truly any desire to help
you, then they would have noticed your absence. Would have seen the most
obvious of symptoms I saw when I laid eyes on you. Yes, that's right," He
paused and viciously shook him, "they don't give a fuck about you." Pietro's
smile stretch to reveal rows of teeth, "Like I do."
It was almost like being hit with a sack of needles to the face. Because then,
he realized how true that was. Where were his friends?
The horrified acceptance must have shown on his face began Pietro began easing
his weight off him. But instead of letting him go completely, Pietro dragged
him to one of the many empty rooms and tossed him inside. His back met the
wooden floor, but with his limbs like fuzzed noodles, there was absolutely no
cushion in his fall. His position was awkwardly askew, but there was only so
little he could actually do about it.
The Pietro stood tall in the crack of light that emitted from the hallway,
however dim it was, and he stared soundlessly at the silhouette.
"I'll give you a ring soon, baby. See you around."
The door shut closed with a soft click of the doorknob, throwing him in
complete terrifying darkness.
He didn't know how long it took him to regain muscle control. He could only
laid there helplessly in the darkness, biting bitter cries through gritted
teeth into the wooden panels of the floor. It was maddening, not seeing his
surroundings, unable to even do more than a twitch in his leg. It became awhile
until he was able to stand on his hands and knees and slump against the door,
legs fanned out in front of him.
He was scared, sure, but more than anything he was so immensely relieved.
Pietro had done little to nothing to him and he had been so lucky to have only
gotten away with just a little pinch from a syringe.
His body would say otherwise. Granted, the drug that was administered roughly
into him left hot and cold flashes, made his eyes stretch precariously to
dilate in impossible ways. He had little convulsive moments when he thought he
felt hands run over him. But other than the obvious symptoms, he hardly noticed
through his furious thinking.
There had to be a way out of this.
In more ways than one, partly he wanted his bodily control back but he also
wanted reign of his situation. Pietro was right that he had control over Tsuna
in a way no one else had. A control that was called neck-deep fear. But he was
uncertain if he had the courage, or the strength, to overcome it.
Tsuna slowly dragged himself up, using his slicked palms to give him leverage
against the wood. As he stood up to full height, but held himself up when he
began slumping uncontrollably again. Gritting his teeth, his shaky hand reached
out to rest on the cold ornate doorknob. He twisted, slowly opening it inch by
inch. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he could tell it was a lot
quieter downstairs than before.
Breathing was a lot easier when he stepped out of the dark oppressive room and
he took in the opportunity to slowly suck in clean air. He flicked his eye-
rimmed eyes at the doorway he had come from. Of all places, he had been thrown
in the guest bathroom. He didn't have the energy to give a indication of his
dark amusement.
A guest bathroom. The one place where many should have stumbled across his
twitching fetal form. And yet, he hadn't seen a soul in maybe three or two
hours. He should have known, especially when he thought he heard water running
through old pipes. At the time, he thought it was a trick his ears were playing
on him.
Ironic, because the bathroom had always remained a safe place for him.
He slowly walked to the direction of his room, his feet dragging on the floor.
It took too much effort to lift up a foot and put it in front of the other, so
he settled with sliding slowly on the long running rug. He didn't know where
this energy was coming from and he remained on autopilot until he reached his
door.
He didn't open it for a very long time.
"Tenth?"
He looked up slowly in time to watch Gokudera jog up to him, Yamamoto following
closely behind at a slower pace. They thankfully stopped a comfortable
breathing distance away. He stared at them with a detached feeling in his
chest. Gokudera was hesitant before he spoke, and there was just a slightest
hint of concern in the other's voice. "Tenth, you're still awake? Don't worry
about cleaning up, Yamamoto and I got it."
He struggled to hear them, he really did, but it was like he was listening to
their words through a wall of cotton.
"You should get some rest," Yamamoto suggested. Tsuna turned his eyes to him
when he realized he had spoken too. "We're going to Venice tomorrow, remember?
Just the three of us."
He didn't remember actually. When had he agreed to that? Tsuna didn't trust his
voice so he nodded as firmly as he could but it felt more like a broken crick
in his neck, slow and stretched out. He stared at them for a moment. And
something occurred to him. It was now or never. Where they going to do
something?
This is your last chance.
Tsuna's tired gaze did not waver as he looked straight into their eyes, trying
to convey the finality of the situation. This was their last chance, he told
himself, he's already given them too many. If they noticed, if they saw, if
they really were his friends and cared, they would stop him. He slowly moved
away, putting a hand to his doorknob. He didn't blink as he twisted his wrist
and slowly opened the door. He looked at them again.
No?
Gokudera and Yamamoto looked confused by his apparent lack of response. He
couldn't possibly make this any more easier for them. He was deliberately
trying to act unlike himself and yet, as he closed the door behind him without
the slightest protest from the two, he knew this was the end. This was the end.
Tsuna wasn't quite sure why he didn't go in right away. It was better to remain
hidden, unseen. But perhaps this was his last grasp for help, his final cry for
mercy. He wanted someone to go around the corner and see just how devastated he
was, how helpless he felt. Turning into the door prematurely would only feel
like he didn't care. He didn't, he kept saying he didn't, but he knew it was a
lie.
He did care.
It wasn't suppose to faze him so much, his friends ignorance, their unknowing
gazes and blank minds when they noticed how different he seemed. He did care
though. He cared a lot that they were trying not to notice him, choosing not to
notice him. He cared.
Sure, he hadn't actually screamed for help, sure he hadn't actually tried his
hardest to run away. But did that matter? He tried. He's already cared to try.
He was inadequately adjusted to the demands and stresses of daily living. Not
even Gokudera had noticed. Not even Yamamoto saw his maladjusted tendencies to
get away from everyone. He wanted them to try now. It was a long stretch to ask
for, but it wasn't impossible.
Tsuna listened in eerie stillness as Gokudera and Yamamoto shuffled away to
their respective rooms.
Until then, finally, Tsuna moved.
He hadn't done this in awhile. He was hoping to at least heal a bit more before
getting started but there really wasn't any point in waiting in his state. He
climbed onto his bed, stripped himself of his pants and began to mechanically
jab welts into his unhealed thighs. They hadn't noticed. They didn't see. They
don't care. He began digging deeper in vengeance, hot iron anger racing through
him in almost ironically cold torrents. He pushed and tugged, his flesh looking
stretched as he pulled hard.
He was hurt, he was angry. They hadn't noticed. They hadn't seen. They didn't
care. Well he didn't need them. He didn't need them at all. He was going to
somehow get himself out of this mess without them. And though he never wished
ill intent on any of them, he knew he would eventually do it under Pietro's
order. He'd do it, to protect himself. And that was the most frightening of
all. His lack of concern for his friends over his own safety was disturbing,
life-changing when he realized it. But he knew it was true.
He would rather die than go through with that though.
And he stilled his hand. Because that was a very appealing thought. Why not?
Tsuna's mood seemed to lift as a horribly wonderful idea came to him. The gears
in his head were slow to turn, but they began to cog along faster and
eventually started processing the train of thought he'd begun.
As much as it bothered him to admit it, though, he didn't love them enough to
stay alive just for their sake. The reason he was doing this was for them
anyway. It was better that he ended himself so he wouldn't be responsible for
something he knew he would do. Pietro had a control over him like no other. If
he gave a word to destroy CEDEF or break up the Foundation, then Tsuna would
probably...do what he said.
He shuddered.
Tsuna shook his head, reorganizing the thoughts in his head. How does one go
about deciding to die?
He waited for another idea to surface to cement his mind to reality again. He
never really actually thought this through, calculated something like this. The
last time he had tried to end his life it had been completely by chance. A
coincidence and an accident that he came over to that cliff. This was
different. He didn't know how to plan, how to... to kill himself. It sounded so
terrible to call it that, though.
Secondary questions rolled along fast, the customary ones that usually was
entitled to a planned death. Where? And how? More importantly, when?
Thinking this through made him feel better, cleared his head as he placed the
used bottle cap on his nightstand. It was more than a relief knowing he didn't
have to live too long in this world acting like nothing was wrong with a shadow
at his shoulder.
Where. Here?
He frowned slightly at the thought of someone finding him. He didn't like the
idea of leaving a corpse behind either. So not here. Outside, far away from
here. He drummed his fingers against his knee.
How?
He would have to improvise. He had developed talent for thinking up ways to die
on the spot, but he never actually thought he would carry it out. The
opportunity would show itself when it came. When it did, he would go with it.
When?
Tomorrow. Yes, that was right, they were going to Venice. Perfect. Yes. The
sooner the better.
Tomorrow.
—
He woke up with a violent jerk. The first thing he noticed was his immense
headache that pounded angrily through his skull and reverberated through his
temples. The next thing he noticed was the uncomfortable masked-like feeling
over his legs. He ventured a peek and groaned quietly, letting his head fall
back onto the pillow. It was just bright enough to see, but the blood that had
covered his legs from last night had hardened into crusty scabs.
His body hadn't stopped trying to heal itself, and though this should have been
a call for celebration, he felt indifferent to it. Tsuna slowly sat up, and
swung his legs over the edge of his bed. He poked at the hardened blood and
knew he would have to do something about this. It was hard to move in, his skin
stretched and broke a little as he shuffled quietly to the bathroom.
He moved the curtains away with a huff and reached in to turn the shower on. He
twisted the tap all the way to the left, dying to rid himself of this
uncomfortable stiff feeling but not willing to do so with cold water. He washed
up quickly, watched with deep uninterest at the scabs breaking and falling into
the drain in slow sluggish red currents. It should have held some morbid
fascination, but to him it's as normal as eating breakfast.
The hot water didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. It felt good and he
felt the bacteria on him die from the heat. He stepped out, toweled himself dry
and sat on the toilet seat.
Routinely, he reached into the cupboard and drew out the gauze and disinfectant
and worked until his legs were covered and clean.
He dressed.
He walked out and ate breakfast.
There was some mild conversation, but he was glad that it was kept to a
minimum. He wanted to ignore them honestly, but he had to carry this out until
the very end—an accident, has to look like an accident—they loaded themselves
into a chauffeured car, and Tsuna settled with being between his two friends—if
he could call them that anymore—and gazed politely through the windshield.
Tsuna responded when he was called. He did put up mild effort to smile, to
laugh at the right times. He didn't think of it more to hide what he planned to
do, it felt more like he was indulging his friends now. Allowed them free reign
of whatever they wanted now. It wasn't like it really mattered anymore.
Perhaps it was his own loss of time, partly his eagerness to get out and away,
but he felt like they got to Venice rather quickly. He slid out of the car
after Gokudera, taking in his surroundings. Despite himself, he began to break
into cold sweat at the sight of so many people. There were swarms of locals,
mixed in with tourists, mixed in with them. It was even coupled by the
incredible brightness, the painful white of everything.
There was a lovely fountain, and with a jolt of realization he knew where they
were.
Santa Lucia. Venice's only train station that ran over the elaborate
waterworks. Distantly, he remembered being here, but instead by boat, only a
year and some months ago. It had seriously struck something in him, leaving an
imprint on his mind for weeks to come but then he had forgotten why.
He suddenly remembered. The station itself was brilliantly white, and stood out
like a sore-thumb against the aged darkened cobble and rusty colors of the
surrounding plaza.
And he decided fast. There. He was going to die there.
He took a moment to assess the place of his death. It looked so normal. It was
sinfully unsuspecting of what was going to happen to him. Perhaps it would have
made him feel terrible on another day, that he was soiling such a pretty place
with a gruesome way to go.
But as he followed Gokudera and Yamamoto to the ticket booth and wandered away,
his resolve strengthened to grim determination. It was almost sickening how
fast he got out of their sights, and nauseating how they took his word as
truth. He meandered about a minute or two to wander the shelves of the souvenir
shop with a vacant stare before he deviated into the crowd.
Now was a better time than ever. Without his companions breathing down his
neck, it was the perfect moment. It wouldn't last long, he knew by first-hand
experience how twitchy they would get if he was away too long. He had to do it
fast. He stepped up to the automated screen reels that showed the trains
estimated to arrive in picketed lights. The next one was coming in about three
minutes.
The last three minutes of his life.
Hibari's face sprung to mind. It was the end of his life, but he did have some
regrets as most humans do. He constantly remembered that Hibari hadn't gone
after him that day, or tried to stop him from leaving. Not a single phone call,
a letter. No sign of attachment, as if it never happened. Even though that was
what he wanted, it still didn't help matters. The urge to see him one last time
was nearly overwhelming. It was regret that curled in his near-empty stomach.
It was pretty odd to think of it that way, and he tried not to let it shake
him. This was the only way out. Despite his original intentions, this was to
keep his family safe. If he didn't die today, didn't die now, he would be
forced to hurt them instead. He would not resist Pietro, and that was probably
the most saddest thing. The man had a leverage over him, a control that he
couldn't shake. He's hoping he can in death. It's a fleeting wish, he hopes it
works.
Tsuna stepped away from the reel board, gently shouldering his way through the
crowd. His eyes roved over the people whose faces that didn't register in his
mind. He simply forgotten them after a single glance. Despite being surrounded
by so many, he felt as if he was by himself, standing at the platform, staring
at the empty spaces and shifting dust motes in the air.
The tracks were suddenly in his sights and his breath caught in his throat.
Yellow lines ran up the sides of the platform, a obvious warning to passengers.
He forced himself not to pause, not to stop, until the tips of his sneakers
kissed the edge of that yellow line.
It was lonely. Knowing no one would truly understand the reason. Why he had to
leave.
It was scary. Terrifying, even. He had perhaps a minute left to live.
It was like his heart stopped. But no, that couldn't be, he could still feel it
thudding heavily almost like a burden in his chest. A ticking that wouldn't
stop. Like a clock he needed to smash. He wasn't all that strong, not really.
And to keep living on like this all by himself...He had enough strength to at
least make this decision. That had to count for something.
If this continued, he would surely die. He wasn't sure if it was possible to
die by loneliness, but the chances of that happening were against his favor. If
he had to go out some way, it was now or never.
A single tendril of regret curled in his stomach. He didn't have to do this.
Not really. He could endure it. He could endure for the rest of his life and
continue with the delirium of being alive. He could attempt to withstand the
horrible repeating and the loss of time. He could try to fight the urge to
scream at everyone and pretend he was okay for the rest of his slow life.
Or.
He could leave. Right now. He could hear the train rumbling, it's metal
chugging along the rails towards their station. He could hear the intercom,
warning them to stay behind the yellow lines and wait for the transportation to
still into a halt before boarding. He could die right now. He wouldn't have to
deal with that. He wouldn't have to deal with Pietro or himself ever again.
All this time he spent building up his wall. Numbing himself to his own pain.
Now, he was all empty and disconnected. He didn't feel human. He didn't even
feel like an animal. There was panic coiling and churning was dangerously close
to breaking through him inside out. He could feel it. Feel his control
slipping. Feel cracks forming on his well-maintained walls.
His choice between two options was ridiculously easy: quick agonizing painful
seconds or waiting out a eternity of swirling continuum for a natural end.
It could be an accident.
He reached into his pocket, fingering the familiar sharp ridges of the bottle
cap. He retracted his hand and Tsuna opened his fist. It fell from his fingers
and he watched as the bottle cap hit the yellow line, rolling forward. He
stumbled after it with a purpose, and his vision tunneled dangerously to the
red of the circular top. Like he was following an angel, or a rabbit, or a damn
bottle cap to a place that was better than here. It rolled, and rolled forward.
For a moment, he thought it was going to precariously stop at the edge, but
Tsuna held his breath until it tumbled off the edge.
He went after it.
There was a strange feeling of detachment as he flung himself into the air. The
moment only lasted for milliseconds before his body hit the rail, the three
feet drop was a lot deeper than he expected that was alright. The iron of the
tracks was rattling, vibrating so violently against the shell of his ear, he
thought he was going to throw up. But that was just as well. It didn't matter
anymore.
He pushed himself up with his arms, everything was shaking, the whole world was
shaking and rumbling. A cacophony of metal was rising in volume, screeching and
hissing and roiling with an intense disturbing speed.
He vaguely registered the screaming around him, above him, and he felt all eyes
in the station on him.
Men, women, children, all screaming.
Don't worry, he wants to tell them, it's what I want, when he realized they
were screaming for him.
For a young sixteen year old who had accidentally fell off the edge and onto
the tracks. They were at loss of what to do, but that was okay. They could not
stop staring, and yet many wanted to look away, to not witness the gruesome
death of a young teenager spilling his death on the unforgiving tracks. The
train was coming in fast, but it simply couldn't come fast enough. He needed to
die now, thank you. Take him away from everything.
His fist tightened against the bottle cap, gripping it until it hurt. Tsuna's
eyes stared at the approaching metal beast, and slowly, ever so slowly, he
closed his eyes.
He felt a lot safer that way. Peaceful and serene, and waiting patiently. He
resisted the urge to smile into the bright light, because that would be wrong.
Even though he was doing this, he knew first hand how precious life was. He
would not take it for granted.
And then he felt it. Something grasped him by his sleeve, a large hand reaching
around his arm. The world's momentum changed. Tsuna's eyes snapped open at the
intrusion as he whole body was lifted by a hard tug that felt like it
dislocated his arm. He scrapped along the platform side messily, face and arms
and legs meeting the hard rough concrete. The kind that most welders didn't
smooth over because they didn't think it would meet much human contact.
The jagged wall met his thighs and he let out a cry in plain surprise. He felt
in excruciating agony as the cuts that were healing, new, and old rip open with
great vengeance as he was pulled up its side. He was thrown onto the solid
yellow line—no no no NO—and his legs were entangling with another's and he was
so confused—He was suddenly not looking at the train anymore, but at a hunched-
over Yamamoto. Heaving, shaking, but frightened as they met eyes.
The train roared with loss as it passed them. The beast was enraged that it
hadn't kill him, regretful his body wasn't on those tracks. It registered
finally, slower than normal because his brain started to lose its blood with
dumb disbelief.
It was instant.
He almost didn't even realize what his face was doing until it was over. He was
shaking, his ears were ringing, his face flooded hot and his heart pumped deep
and resentful. His nose scrunched, teeth pulled back, eyes wide. He felt wild.
Feral. Uncontrollable.
I HATE YOU!
Tsuna pushed the feeling as best as he could into his eyes, willing the other
to know of his loathing, his agony, to understand that he was going to live for
the rest of his lifewith incompetent friends and a rapist. He had been doing
this for them, he had sacrificed all he had for them. And now they were making
him stay. They never let him have what he wanted. They were sogoddamn selfish.
Well they weren't going to have their way, not this time. He was going to die,
and they can't stop him.
It was the last thought he had, until his head fell back and he closed his eyes
and pretended that he was gone forever.
Chapter End Notes
     AN: This chapter was absolutely terrible to write. I was so lost
     because it was so depressing and contradicting and overall confusing.
     To be honest, I'm not even satisfied with it. I don't even know what
     to say here. To cheer you up after this massive wet-blanket of a
     chapter, I have some linked Bestialized fanart for you guys! The last
     link is a lovely fanvideo! I'm so slow at updating but you're all
     making these stuff for me during these agonizing intervals. Thank you
     for the wonderful undeserving presents guys, like seriously.
     ( palettesky .tumblr (dotcom) /post/22969133038/dedication-to-
     jikages-fanfiction-bestialized )
     ( jasmin-liertha .deviantart (dotcom) /art/Tsuna-Dirty-Pierrot-
     304245509 )
     ( youtube (dotcom) /watch?feature=player_embedded&v=7mYab7byt5g )
     Also. Because of FFnet's new policy that MA fiction is not allowed, I
     have made a backup of this story on Archive of Our Own (AO3). I'm
     actually sort of terrified Bestialized may be deleted in the near
     future because of its mature contents in freaking chapter one. Just
     giving you a heads up just in case, so you'll know where new updates
     will go!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!