Hihi!
This is sort of dark, okay. I'm warning you. Ten years later, Tsuna gets completely dragged into the world of the mafia and- you can just read for yourself.
I don't think you will, but...
Enjoy!
Ketsueki-shoku
no sora wa haiiro
no namida o
naite iru~
Sora wa no,
sore jishin no
omoi kumo ga
shita ni mi ni tsuke
mō idō
suru koto wa dekinai.
Nobody knew when it began, but Sawada Tsunayoshi's smiles became less frequent. And then, their appearances finally ceased altogether. Trapped within the poker face of his porcelain mask, lips pulled taut into a neutral line.
Hibari and Yamamoto started approaching him more frequently. And that was when fake ones stretched his unwilling lips into an upturned arc, wrinkles indicating the plainly hidden pain. Hibari and him sat by the garden sometimes, staring off into nothing.
Gokudera tried to say something once or twice, but was slowly waved away.
Yamamoto tried to coax his boss away from the imprisoning tower of paperwork, but Tsuna just smiled at him, shaking his head, shoulders drooped as if the weight of the whole world were imposed on them. It was that smile which made something twist in your gut, feeling you'd just been kicked as he gives you that sorry expression. That of a prisoner's.
Then, one night when the moon had turned blood-red, all of the men in suits headed out to admire the rare phenomenon, a terrible cry was heard. A crazed silver-haired right-hand-man burst into the plaza, looking like he'd lost everything and just seen hell.
The Mafiosi returned to see their boss slumped over in a chair, a cold, white hand grasped tightly around the hilt of a golden letter opener that had half its blade buried in his chest. The crimson streaks of blood were splattered all over the alliance proposal with the Cenere famiglia, a mafia family in Florence that had many strong ties to other families and posed white a threat. They organized massacres in key areas all over the region, and no one opposed their bloody rule.
He had known that a war would break out in the Mafia should he turn down the alliance. In spite of the Guardian's protests, the next person in power, Reborn, trusted advisor of the Family, agreed to the it.
The guardians all vanished one by one, reappearing only at their friend's funeral, looking grief-stricken and war-torn. That day, the sky was a dark grey, and the air cracked with lightning and thunder, rain however, refused to spill. Reborn, striding in with his suit-clad escorts, gave a curt bow in respect. He was met with the seven guardians' hostile glares.
"Don't you dare carve 'Vongola Decimo' into his gravestone." Iemitsu spat at him, tone flat and acrid, burning with contempted for the other. His golden-grey brows rubbed at each other as his face contorted into a look of other disgust and fury.
Rules are rules, though.
Iemitsu later resigned from the post as External Advisor. He and Nana completely vanished from Namimori.
A few days later, half the Vongola's forces and Cenere's troops were completely decimated. It only took one look at the after-effects caused by Dying-will flames of multiple aspects to know who were behind it.
"Aren't you going to stay with your boss?"
"That's just a body. What made the Juudaime the Juudaime had already been long crushed by your own hand, Reborn-san."
The guardians could no longer be traced.
Reborn stares at the same phantom that recurrently haunts his nights, his soulless, tear-stained eyes staring at him accusingly. His shiny black cloak's interior was splattered with blood, for nothing could penetrate it from the outside. His brown hair was stiff, and his pained eyes were begging Reborn to let him go from this nightmare of violence and mutiny, corruption and murder.
Reborn meets his gaze with leveled, unintimidated onyx eyes.
"Don't look at me like that. I didn't do this to you. There was no one else who could fill your place." Reborn tells the apparition reflected on the cold whitewashed walls of the office, scrubbed clean yet never completely free of the former Boss' blood.
It is later though, that a handgun is pressed to the starched fabric of a black suit and the finger around the trigger unhesitantly pulled.
Geez. *shudders* I don't know what came over me to write this dark fiction.
The title is 'melody of despair', and the top part is a melody I came up with myself.
This could be a special for Tsuna's birthday. I don't know.
I'm pretty darn surprised this came out of my brain filled with rainbows and sunshine. Well, most of the time.
Please let me know what you thought of this.
Bye!