Disclaimer: We do not own KHR and nor we will in the future.

Previously known as Black and White

The bathroom was poorly lit because the lights had been turned off. The only source of light was the moon, since it barely made its way through the closed window. The illuminated light reflected along the walls and the mirror as it gave the whole room a solemn atmosphere.

In the room, there was a male. He had just finished showering. To be more exact, he did not even bother and just stood there, looking at the wall in front of him. The room was humid, giving the room a misty glaze. He was still dripping wet like he was when he had originally come out of the tub. He stood in front of the mirror. A puddle of water was forming beneath his feet as water slipped off from his body.

His two thin fingers trailed the outline of his chin on the steamed mirror as he stared at himself with barely any emotions beside disappointment and annoyance as the exceptions. The untamed chocolate brown locks of hair. The chocolate brown eyes tinted with a hidden shade of dark orange. All these traits, he inherited them from his mother, yet barely any traits of his father were seen.

His eyes trailed down the outline of his thin body in the steamed mirror, just stopping right above the white towel wrapped around his slightly toned hips. He was short for the average Japanese male but slightly taller than the average Japanese female. It was all because his growth spurt had not kicked in yet. Along with the growth spurt, he did have the forming angular features a male should have around his age but rather feminine ones.

Sawada Tsunayoshi, or Tsuna, for short. That was his name. He was literally known for being notoriously stupid and clumsy, therefore, earning the nickname, "Dame-Tsuna," along with several others. He was constantly being bullied or pushed around, lectured by teachers for being a failure, happening to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and falling over the so-called invisible objects. People thought the boy was naturally born with bad luck.

Not that he could argue with them. He had already given up trying to prove them wrong a long time ago. Now, all he could do was defend himself halfheartedly. He had wondered how come he had not crack violently under such treatment for so long. Was there a reason? Was there some kind of lingering hope in himself that he did not know of or was it something else? He did not know except for the fact that he was not special in the eyes of many people.

He growled at the weak image standing before him. He knew, deep inside, that this was him, but at the same time, it was not. Just who was he? There was no sense of identity within him but a majority of people around him appeared to have created a figment of himself in their minds, a part of him that have seen yet not all of him was there.

As soon as the steam cleared away from the mirror and he was able to see himself more distinctly, his small fist made contact with the fragile object. The skin had cracked when it made sudden contact with the hard surface. Small shards of glass scattered around the while sink beneath. Thin streams of crimson color were dripping into the sink bowl through the newly formed scratches and cuts.

Looking at himself was tiring enough and it never did satisfy him to see such a pathetic creature in front of himself. He was indeed a hypocrite. He chuckled quietly at the thought. He was one of those pathetic creatures that he disliked. He could not help it. It was probably one of the main reasons why he chose to stand afar from other people. How could he like others if he could barely look at himself in the eye?

He looked at the shattered mirror once again. It was full of cracks and some pieces were missing. He quietly laughed at the symbolism he saw in the now-useless object. He was just like the broken mirror. Who was going to use him if he was just broken? Who was going to place back the missing pieces of his being? Who was going to see past the wall that surrounded him? Who was going to fix him? Just who?

He slid the bathroom door open. Turning around, he silently slid it closed as he left a trail of blood behind him. The color was invisible to his eyes as he slowly slipped on his undergarments, still wet. Next, he slid on a pair of sleeping pants of dark blue color. Slowly, his dead-panned expression started to crack as he fell to his knees onto the ground.

Why was he like this? There was no need to answer. He already knew the reason why. He was just acting as a pathetic creature. He was a puppet for other to use and possess.

He could actually defend himself and fight back. He could have come home without bruises black and blue over his body. So why did he let people bully him and push him around? His reason? He did not want to hurt others and indirectly hurt others.

He was actually an intelligent being. He was smart enough to be above average but not to the point to make it on the honor roll. So why did he let his teachers lecture him? Why did he let them call him a failure? His reason? There was no use. No one would believe him if he said that when he was small, people would take his paper and claim it for themselves. No one would believe him after seeing his grades on his transcript. They would think he was a cheater and whatnot. He did not want to use the little energy he had to fight back the new insults.

So why was he at the wrong places at the wrong time? His reason? So he could help others escape by serving as a distraction. It only mattered to him that the other would escape than watch them be hurt, even if they have hurt him in the past. Though, there were times he had hoped for a "thank you" in return. Since there was no "thank you," he guessed no one wanted to believe that they were saved by "Dame-Tsuna."

He was not even clumsy. He did have coordination. So why do people believe he was clumsy? His reason? The so-called invisible objects were the pushes, the trips, the bumps, and many more. He was an object that allowed people to vent out pent up emotions at.

He took all the pain of others. He did not even know why he was doing such a thing? Was it his purpose or something? To take the pain of others onto himself? If so, why?

He slammed his fits against the wet floor beneath him. He ignored the added pressure applied on his injured hand. His back was hunched over and trembling. Tears fell from his clenched eyes. He tried to hold it in. He knew that he had to let out before he killed himself. After all, he held no meaning if he had no purpose. Ironically, he knew that he had deeper purpose set for him. But will that purpose kill him? Or will he kill himself of what would become of him in the end?

Authors' Notes:

So what did you think of it? We had to rewrite it over and over again, since it felt incomplete. Anyway, it looks we will be updating weekly or anytime we're free from homework. (Thank you, teachers. Giving us juniors homework over winter break.)

We tried to go with a darker path since we both kind of pessimistic and what not. I guess we're going to devote our whole time on this, and then start on the prequel to this story after this story is done. By the looks of the poll, it looks like people want the Future and Shimon Arc included. If so, then this story will be in three parts: Varia, Future, and Shimon. But the results is not final yet, so wait until then.

Please review and look forward to the next chapter.