Disclaimer: I own neither KHR nor its characters. No money or profit is gained through this fic.
Winter is coming.
He can feel the chill settling in his bones even as he finishes sweeping up the last of the fallen leaves. The broom is returned to its proper place and he changes his clothes, ready to make his way home from a long day at work. Being a janitor is no prestigious job, far from it, but it pays the bills and Tsuna only has himself to blame for his abysmal grades that would never allow for something better.
He has grown used to the world, one which expects nothing from 'Dame-Tsuna', likewise he expects nothing from it.
Without thinking, Tsuna begins to take the long route home. It seems that he is feeling nostalgic today or perhaps he just doesn't want to return to a silent cold home. The warmth his mother so lovingly cultivated froze and crumbled the day men with scarred faces in the damning black of executioners told his mother his father was dead.
Died in the line of duty they said, because news of the war in the glorious land of Italy had already spread to Namimori. Blood, the rain cried. Death, the wind whispered. Fear, the people wept.
It is coming, their country mourned.
Tsuna was nineteen then. It was also the sixth anniversary of the could-have-been.
Even he is not sure what could have been, but the dreams and not memories yet memories blow doubt into his mind. Something should have happened when he was thirteen, but it didn't. And his family was damned because of it. There are the phantom wails and laughter of children in his house, the pitter patter of feet and the warmth of family. But there is no one there.
Sometimes, Tsuna swears he smells the bitter tang of espresso, flown in directly from Italy, and the high pitched voice of a child accompanies it, so distinctly childish yet Tsuna can hear no, imagine the world weary voice of someone who has seen and done far too much.
He has never told anyone about these 'dreams'. Tsuna knows far better than anyone what happens when one blatantly shows that they see things that are just not there. Look where it got his mother, in a pristine white room with no one but herself and Tsuna's dead father. Society is judging and Tsuna can no longer afford to be judged.
He passes by a dilapidated sushi shop, an old 'now hiring' poster still stuck to the wall, edges yellow with age and barely legible. Yo Tsuna! Want some sushi? Tsuna clenches his fist and brisk walks past the shop. He shouldn't be feeling guilty. Yamamoto Takeshi was just a classmate, nothing more. Yet the memory of him soaring through the air, lips pulled into that ever so annoying grin, staring straight at Tsuna. Tsuna of all people as he flew to his death irks Tsuna no end.
Yamamoto has never looked at Tsuna much less asked him out for sushi. Tsuna took no part in his death. Tsuna did nothing wrong.
You could have saved him.
"Shut up." It's a traitorous voice, the one that mourns for something Tsuna doesn't understand. It tells him little things, like how good Yamamoto's sushi would taste and how lonely it Tsuna is in his house.
A false warmth settles upon his shoulders and Tsuna can feel Yamamoto's arm as he blabbers about nothing. The imagined intimacy, so casual and friendly scares him. Yamamoto is bickering with someone. The scent of cigarette smoke fills the air as Tsuna lights a stick. It's a bad habit but Tsuna doesn't really care anymore. It makes him feel safe. Loved even and really, was that so much to want?
Jyuudaime! Get away from him baseball freak! Unbidden, the image of green eyes and silver hair appears in his mind. Tsuna can practically feel the heat of this unknown person, Gokudera, the voice supplies with a wispy sigh, whom is standing next to him. But there is no one there and the heat as well as the voices disappears as soon as Tsuna turns the corner.
Hello Boss. Tsuna recognizes this one. A painfully thin girl called Chrome with the softest voice and the most fragile smile. He must be passing the abandoned Kokuyo Land. She is one of the more quiet ones but along with her comes….Kufufu, hello Tsunayoshi-kun, an annoying pineapple. Some part of him, always feels fear around Mukuro, tries to force the rest of him to fear as well. But a bigger, stronger part just accepts wearily and agrees that this psychopath is family.
Stupid. None of them, none of these ghosts are family. Because that's all they are. Ghosts.
He is almost home now. But there is one more area.
HIEEEE! H-Hibari-san!
I'll bite you to death.
That is actually a real memory for once. The defender who was no better than a bully to him. Who punished, and injured both victim and villain alike. A part of him is viciously glad that Hibari was killed in the war, involved in a fight he had no part of, no training for. Coward, at least he didn't hide like you. Well, what was Tsuna supposed to do?! He was a loser; there was only one way for him to survive. He chose that path and see? The war had receded back to Italy and he was still alive. Hibari was not.
He wishes Hibari was alive
No. No he doesn't. Just a bit more to home…
EXTREMMEEE Sawada!
Sasagawa Ryohei. A man he once wished was his brother because that would mean 'Kyoko-chan' was his wife but of course, Tsuna didn't get his happy ending. Neither did Ryohei.
Death sentence. For first degree murder of the person who shot his fiancée.
But then again, it wasn't Tsuna's business.
Onii-san!
It was never his business in the first place.
Tsuna pushes the front gate open and freezes.
There is someone in his house. Someone…he should know? Cautiously, he opens the door. He is trembling, oddly enough. In…anticipation?
"I'm sorry." The scent of freshly brewed espresso, the danger tinged childish voice. His feet move without a thought; towards the could-have-been , the should-have-been. It's getting harder to breathe, and his heart might collapse onto itself. He'll cry soon, the stinging sensation is familiar to him. But for now… he has to reach.
Black eyes meet his.
Could be so gentle, the look in those eyes, the hitman did care for him. Memories of another life. Focus, Tsuna, focus.
"I came far too late. I'm sorry." A sigh, Atlas, he who holds the world on his shoulders. A fedora tipped down, a tiny outstretched hand.
"Will you accept?" An ornate ring bound with dreams of another world, a better life. Happier lives. Vongola Decimo. A life that could never happen now.
He reaches forward and grabs the sky ring; it slips onto his finger eagerly, like it was meant to be. Perhaps it was. That's what Reborn thinks anyway, of this boy-man who is supposed to be useless yet gives him more hope than Luce ever did.
Sawada Tsunayoshi looks straight into Reborn's beetle black eyes and Reborn can see the grief tinged Will burning in those eyes.
"I accept." He says and his Will burns even brighter, for his guardians that he never got to love, for his family that died before it could even reach him.
Reborn nods and for the first time in a decade, allows hope to grow in his heart.
fin