Lost Freedom
He picked up the cloth and ran it smoothly along the edges of the sharp blade. He shuddered.
No one ever bothered to ask him why he was the only one wearing that striped scarf… No one noticed that every time he shrugged his shoulders to keep the scarf from falling, he flinches. No one.
(Why would they?)
He found safety in the Vongola Famiglia. He was away from harm, away from physical abuses and most of all, away from the endless days of hiding and seeking. For so long, he had been the only mouse running away from those increasing amount of cats.
(Now he understood why the childish game of Hide-and-Seek could make his heart ache.)
But that didn't mean he was safe from everything. He lost his sanity, lost his freedom, lost his pride, lost his happiness… Those days of hide-and-seek, he laughed when the 'predators' tripped from one of his little tricks; cried when the stick whacked down onto his back; savored the feeling of wind brushing against his cheeks and drying the tears of fear; loving the sensation of wind that tickled him and reminded him of his freedom. Never once, did he yearn for a family, a house… But now, he did.
He was scarred.
(He was safe from the outside, but more vulnerable to the inside.)
His body ached for love and attention. He didn't want to be a mere by-stander of the important events going around him. He used to be someone that many people wanted; now he was someone who wanted others. He was resourceful and needed back then; now he was useless and needed others. He hated the aches that didn't leave bruises to heal… those aches were deep inside, unable to be patched up and mended.
(He had to do something, but what?)
That was when he knew he had to diverse his pain – to something that left scars, to something that he could heal.
(No, Hide-and-Seek was no longer appealing - that was so dull. Self-abuse was much more tempting.)
For the first time, he felt the energy come back to his body. He was the person pulling the strings of the puppets again – not the other way round.
(He smiled, the muscles of his sore cheeks stretching uncomfortably.)
He took off his scarf and folded it neatly before placing it next to him so he could reach for it immediately after the event was finished. He knew it would hurt – but that was the point.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
The pain didn't come.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
The pain exploded as the sixth ugly red mark showed on his tender neck. He was hungry for more pain - it was so comforting.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
He was that close to touching his veins, so close to suicide. But that was cowardly – he didn't need the easy way out.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Blood trickled down his neck, soaking his green coat.
He peered over his shoulders to make sure once again that no one was going to barge into his room (especially Lambo and I-Pin). He caught sight of the Ranking Book that had accompanied him for so many years.
He walked over as if in trance, squatting down to pick up the book.
The book never felt heavy to him before – not even when it was half his own height when he was small – but now it did.
He felt so helpless, so vulnerable, standing awkwardly and not knowing what to do. His scarf was moving up and down, dancing to the rhythm of the wind. He shivered as he tucked the striped scarf closer to him. He had been standing there for the past few hours, unmoving and randomly selecting people to rank. It has been so long, too long since any of the Mafia families bothered him and paid him for finding out valuable information – he had been safe with Tsuna-ni for as long as he could remember. But he knew, he can't stay like this forever; there are things he had to do on his own.
Fuuta was young, and he was fully aware of that, but he promised himself that he wouldn't let that simple fact hinder him in anything. He didn't know if it was a good or bad thing that he moved in with Tsuna-ni. For one, he was becoming reliant on him, but on the other side, he has been safe and happy, and one thing that was the most important to him was that the Vongola Famiglia made him feel special.
Lambo and I-Pin, indirectly, he considered them as his responsibilities. When they were missing or hurt, he felt guilty inside. Tsuna and his Guardians, they were his elder siblings, he tried his best to make them feel at home. That day, when they came back from the Millefiore base, with no success but new information, he had convinced even Gianini to go out and welcome them. That day, he felt so warm and so relieved that they were all okay…
That was when he was ten years ago. Still so innocent and so pure, believing in everything Tsuna told him, everything he wanted to believe. He was different now.
His neck throbbed and he rubbed his painful neck, staining his long, white fingers. Gingerly, he retrieved his scarf from the floor and wrapped it around the wounds protectively.
Something wet trickled down his cheek. He started sobbing. Pushing back his blond locks, he covered his face and cried his heart out.
Tsuna heard something – a soft cry of despair and it reduced to a rhythmic sobbing. He looked up. Fuuta.
The now 24 years old Vongola Boss unfolded his long legs and walked out of the room.
"Juudaime!" The ever-enthusiastic Storm Guardian greeted him; eyes sparkling like it did so many years before.
"Tsuna." Yamamoto nodded his head respectfully, a lazy smile plastered on his face. But his eyes, they weren't as merry as before. His father's death had scarred him.
All of them had matured, even Lambo. Tsuna thought proudly.
"Taking a walk? Herbivore?"
Tsuna turned smiling and shook his head, "No Hibari, Fuuta seems to be having a hard time. Just checking on him."
The Guardians exchanged looks.
He heard something. He looked up. Light blinded him painfully.
"Fuuta?" Tsuna's gentle voice sounded out.
"Go away!"
The young boss took a few steps back and walked over to put his arm around the flinching boy.
"It's okay, cry it all out." Tsuna soothed.
Fuuta did. He buried his head in Tsuna's broad chest and cried.
Despair, anger, loneliness, fear, desperation, hatred, etc.
Everything.
It was the day he almost died; it was the day he was revived.
Disclaimer: Don't own. A/N: For Fuuta's Birthday. Sorry for the lousy ending…