FANDOM: Kateikyoushi Hitman Reborn
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: MukuTsuna (some undertones of GokuTsuna, HibaTsuna and MukuHiba if you squint); the Vongola ensemble
SUMMARY: One person is saved and a promise is finally kept. (1500+ words)
WARNINGS: OOC-ness, switching points-of-view
NOTES: Written for prompt_in_a_box Round 11 = “You dream about me?” -- submitted for Round 21 (November Round)
Gokudera's hand is on his shoulder as he steps out from their black and heavily tinted van; he knows that the storm guardian looks to him with worry. Beneath his outward appearance, of course, Tsuna realizes he feels the same; however, there is just no time for that now. (Perhaps there never really was.) So he firmly caps his resolve, recalling the whispers that had flitted across the shell of his ear, the faint touches against his cheek, and a resounding voice which belongs to no one - its soft promises echoing in the back of his mind.
Everything terrifies him, an adrenaline rush he cannot understand. Yet strangely, he finds himself welcoming the sensation; a perception once deemed foreign to the likes of No-Good Tsuna. And this small bit of strength, this one thing he is sure of, is what he holds on to as he faces the unknown dangers before him.
The land is covered in mist; a welcome, Tsuna can't quite tell. But as he jumps down, the vapors thicken almost as if to catch his feet – it gathers about him, it almost feels like he is going to tread upon a cloud. When he finally touches solid ground, Tsuna realizes that a small smile is suspended across his face, maybe in knowing that there is truly nothing to fear.
The rest of his guardians are inspecting the area. Hibari, who had been convinced to join them, takes to the west in easy strides, pushing his way through the mist and settling in front of a pair of large black gates. Ryouhei follows after him, halting when he is directly across Hibari; both marking their posts. Yamamoto, sword propped against his shoulder, stands in front of Tsuna; while Lambo, back somewhat slouched and humming quietly, is on Tsuna's left.
Gokudera throws a dirty look the cow's way before he takes Tsuna's arm none too gently, guiding him forward. Half way towards the gates however, the young Vongola stops to the sound of gurgling water. He's heard it before, fallen into it, breathed it in then choked it out. It is a sweet melody of sorts, lulling him to sleep, enveloping him within its protection. It is a sound no one else can hear.
“Juudaime, what's the matter?” Gokudera shakes him, the rest look on in combined reactions of curiosity and concern. It is a few seconds before Tsuna focuses on his storm guardian's wide eyes and flushed cheeks, a few seconds before he slides a palm atop Gokudera's head and tells him he's alright. He imagines Gokudera purring like a cat as the bomb specialist looks away.
There is a tense quiver in the mist – Tsuna isn't sure if it is his imagination – as the gates suddenly make a creaking sound. He doesn't need Lambo's voiced observation to know that they are sliding open. Tsuna unconsciously balls his fist, watching as two cloaked individuals drift towards them; their faces hidden behind masks, he wonders if it is meant to intimidate.
“Sawada Tsunayoshi-sama,” one addresses him, “we were expecting your arrival later today.” It is supposed to reveal nothing, but Tsuna hears the irritation loud and clear. Frankly, he doesn't care for it. Which is why he rounds on them with an angered flame igniting in his eyes.
“Where is he?”
Gokudera feels a chill travel up his spine, the sheer gravity and authority commanded by such a tone something the old Tsuna would have not been able to call forth. This was once upon a time though; their Boss had changed, significantly so. Ryouhei is visibly beaming while Yamamoto directs his gaze to the other cloaked figure in provocation, daring them to defy.
The two are forced to retreat; the gates shutting in their wake. It is an initial victory.
Relief pools inside of him as Tsuna nearly collapses, if not for the supporting hand on his arm. It is familiar, calmingly so. He closes his eyes to the sound of his female guardian's voice; shy, unsure, hopeful nonetheless.
“Thank you, Bossu.”
He isn't sure how long it's been anymore; it has come to the point where he cannot even tell if it is night or day. And communication with Chrome only leaves him even more muddled because right after he switches places with her, he finds himself falling asleep – to drift across waters that seem to absorb him, telling him in painful whispers that he will never be free again.
And it frightens him, it does. He has simply not admitted so. For why would he? And who would he admit to? Not to Chrome, his precious treasure; he'd hoped to inspire her, to give her reason. If she knew, her own constitution would break. (He would not forgive himself.) Certainly not to Chikusa nor Ken, the faithful followers they are. If they tried to break him out again, it would be the end for them. And he wasn't sure if he could take having the guilt weighing him down. If he could admit, he would also say that on a certain plain, he actually believed them friends. And even in his distorted view of the world, he knew that friends did not allow such things to happen to each other.
That left Sawada Tsunayoshi, the man he'd allowed his allegiance to. There was no way he could trust the mafia world or anything to do with it. But the Tenth Vongola Boss was different. He simply couldn't understand why. Nevertheless, your insecurities were not something you could share with him. He pictures the boy looking to him in pity and with a need to help, and he finds himself choking. He doesn't need it. He was better off killing Tsuna when he'd had the chance.
Even now, he imagines taking the boy by the neck and squeezing, imagines Tsuna's eyes riddled in fear and his arms flailing. He imagines laughing, enjoying it as the boy loses everything and falls apart at his hands. And then he imagines embracing the boy's body, his chin against Tsuna's shoulder, holding on to that last bit of warmth before they both travel into oblivion.
His eyes snap open to take in a myriad of blurry images. Hibari Kyouya's smirking face is in the corner of his vision, arms folded across each other as if the former Disciplinary Prefect could care less. Gokudera Hayato is frowning at him, trying very hard to seem indifferent but failing; he finds it somewhat comical. Chrome's watery eyes are somewhere towards his left, the small hand clinging to his own registering just then. And of course, there's Sawada Tsunayoshi, fingers against his cheek as if they are meant to be there.
He is wrapped in what he believes is a large black coat; his eyes dart almost immediately to Hibari's quiet form. It must be his imagination, he thinks, when Hibari quirks his head to point to the young Vongola Boss instead. No one else seems to notice.
As Tsuna sets the flower vase down on his bedside table, Mukuro finally finds the voice to ask, “Why did you save me?” And the boy's response is confusing to say the least. A pinkish shade dusts his cheeks, his arms stilling, bangs covering his eyes. Mukuro isn't the type to let his emotions get the better of him, yet he cannot help his frown, dark and brooding.
“You asked me to.” Tsuna's answer arrives in the midst of shuffled footsteps, a hand on the doorknob. Mukuro whirls his gaze at him in surprise.
“You told me you didn't like it in that dark place and that you wanted to see the sunshine again,” the young Vongola narrates, finding himself seated at the edge of Mukuro's bed, “You told me that it was hard showing everyone you were brave when you were actually scared.”
For the life of him, Mukuro cannot remember admitting such embarrassing things to his Boss. It takes a moment of harried thought to prompt his widening eyes as he just then realizes from where Tsuna might have heard such notions.
“You dream about me?”
It was strange, only Chrome ever did – they had a connection after all. But why Tsuna? Why this slip of a Vongola Boss?
“Every so often,” Tsuna nods and Mukuro is left to ponder just what he is thinking.
“Do you dream about me, too?” Tsuna asks, hand upon his forehead. Mukuro looks away, his grip on the blankets tightening.
“No,” he grits out, willing the boy to leave. He entertains the thought of reaching up and pushing Tsuna down, maybe using his illusions to finally kill the boy. But before he can properly work out the details, the young Boss pulls the covers up to his chin and tucks the ends beneath his body. Mukuro's mouth is a thin line as he is forced to stare at Tsuna's face up close, his large trusting eyes and plump lips.
He ponders if perhaps this is only a dream (no matter how ironic it may be), and if he might still be floating along the waters of no return. Because what could possibly be worse than owing your life to the person you were once meant to destroy?
“Mukuro-san, sleep well.” Sometimes for a moment, however, it's quite nice – even reassuring – to be able forget.