SHELL

Author's note. Please do not pass this by. It's very important.

Truth be told, I actually really like this concept, because it's the sort of headcannon that can explain a lot of the downright exaggerations in the story but doesn't necessarily have to change anything. The idea came to me around February, and I wrote all of three thousand words before getting sidetracked by another project—which never saw the light of day as it went straight to the recycle bin, like all the ideas that followed. I get sidetracked a lot. But I saved Shell, because it's awesome and honesty kind of unique.

I've never read anything like it. (If you have, kindly shout about it? I'd love to read some more awesome Tsuna stuff that isn't cliché and too much AU.)

So…I'm pushing through until either of three things happen. One, I finish the story (highly unlikely considering my track record with things like this, I'm fickle like that.) Two, a Good Samaritan adopts the concept and gives me a new favorite person to add to my ever-shrinking list. Three, I get bored.

I'm starting this off by telling you awesome people not to expect much, and be open to possible cliffhangers in the future.

ABOUT

When Tsuna enters the Ultimate State of Dying Will, Timoteo's seal disintegrates completely and reveals to the world a side of Tsuna no one has ever imagined existed.

This story works on two assumptions: one, that Timoteo's seal on Tsuna's Flames had an over-all effect on his physical and mental state, thus his nigh impossible Dame-ness; and two, that Hyper Dying Will Tsuna is the real Tsuna—a glimpse—and that Dame-Tsuna is just his…shell. A mere consequence of the seal that was never supposed to exist.

Therefore, you should expect tons of OOC-ness and just plain shit.

This follows canon timeline, from after the fight with Vendice. Anything after that didn't happen. They released the curse of the Arcobaleno and helped the Vendice get their revenge, and then Tsuna dropped dead.

Prologue

It wasn't that Tsuna wasn't motivated enough. It's that he really wasn't capable. There was no 'you can do it if you only try with him', because he tried, and tried and tried and tried and every attempt just ended in more and more pain and humiliation than the last.

He was a loser, plain and simple.

He often wondered why he was that way. Why he had so much difficulty understanding things that came so easily to others his age. Why he couldn't learn anything, no matter how hard he studied or how long he practiced. He couldn't even cheat properly, since he failed even at that. And his motor skills were just devastating.

At age thirteen, he had long since given up the hope of growing into someone great. Why bother with greatness when he couldn't even be average?

And that was what hurt the most, the hopelessness.

Why was he even alive when he could do nothing right?

Reborn was the sole good thing that happened in his life. One could argue that the sadistic hitman was paving the road to hell for him while he rode on willingly upon the camel's back, but Tsuna would sooner burn himself with his own Flames than change anything that happened since Reborn came.

Even if Reborn didn't exactly fit the bill of an angelic cherub, the way Tsuna saw it, Reborn could grow a thousand horns and a million tails but he would still be Tsuna's angel.

He was so grateful he would worship him on his knees if he thought Reborn was into that sort of thing. Lucky for him, Reborn preferred him running, or as recent events have unfolded, flying.

(Gosh, darn, he still couldn't quite wrap his head around that. He could fly!)

Tsuna loved his family. (Sometimes, this included a certain blond Italian, but most times he might as well be burned off the family tree for all the care Tsuna gave him.) He loved his Guardians, despite how volatile they might be. He loved Dino and Enma and the rest of their merry gang of subordinates who still intimidated him a great deal even after everything. He loved I pin and Fong and Skull and the rest of the weird Arcobalenos, despite the fact that more than half of them despised him.

He even loved the Varia, and Xanxus. And that, right there, was a testament to how lonely his life was before everything, that he would take bullying and abuse and return it with innocent affection—because in the past he had nothing, nothing at all, just a far-away Dad and an absent mother and disdain from everyone else.

He loved Kyoko and Haru and Shoichi and Spanner—and this was a special sort of love, because in the midst of monstrous creatures, the four of them were really quite normal. And, yes, his standards of normal were skewed, but really, who's asking?

He loved them all. The ones who tried to kill him. The ones who seemed to worship him. The ones who didn't give a damn about anything. Even Byakuran.

And this was the point where he tries to love the person he hates most in the world and succeeds, somewhat, that he knew he was healing…

He was learning to love himself.

And it was such a freeing feeling.

But then—

"Tsuna! Tsuna, stop!"

"Sawada!"

"Dear God, what's happening to him?"

"Get Shamal, right. Fucking. Now!"

"No! Tsuna-kun!"

"Tsuna-san, please! Tell us what's going on!"

—then it happens.

"Is it over? Did we win? What happened back there?"

"I—I don't know! Okay? I don't know! One minute he was fighting and then it was over. The man with the iron mask comes in and then there's old man Talbot—"

"How about Tsuna? Will he be okay?"

"I don't know! I have no fucking clue, get it! I'm as much in the dark as you! Everything happened so fast, we didn't even—"

Fate is a cruel, cruel thing.

"Get your asses out of the way! We're taking him to the hospital!"

"What's—"

"And you idiots get moving too! You're no use to your boss once you die of blood loss or some shit. Get yourself in a hospital bed or so help me—"

"Hey, careful! The shoulder's—"

"Idiots! Out of the way!"

Bang. Bang. Bang.

There was no beep. No flat lines flashing across a green monitor. No fatal injury. Even a gunshot wound bleeding off the car floor.

There were arms wrapped around him, warm and uncomfortable, awkwardly holding him upright on a plush leather seat. The smell of blood and ammonia. Something burning.

There was no beep. No time of death. No messy morgue business. No funeral.

But there was no mistaking it.

"Tsuna, where are you?"

He died.

It sounded like egg shells breaking.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

P.S. Keep the reviews coming and i may just reach chapter five. or four.