A/N : Dedicated to Kiri-san and Satol, and anyone else who likes 1827. Happy Valentine's Day!


It's the fourteenth of February, it's dark and cold and Tsunayoshi doesn't have anyone to call his own, so he sits down on a swing at the playground near his house and swings alone in the chilly breeze.

The fourteenth of February no longer held any significance to him. It was just another regular day, with fighting for his right to survive in this bleak, stormy world with dark clouds, no sun, no rain, no mists, no lightning, and worst, an empty sky. Everyone was gone. Dead, in fact, because Tsunayoshi is a wretched person who brought misery wherever he went. Funny, because he once thought that his family would be there for him forever.

Where was Hibari? Buried six feet under the soil in a coffin. Which was funny as well, because Tsunayoshi knew Hibari wanted to be cremated like the traditional Japanese did, but Tsunayoshi knew he'd rather let the poor guy's body rot than burn it.

Where were the others? Dead too, because Tsunayoshi is a useless boss who can't even protect a baby like Reborn. He laughs dryly to himself and his eyes water up instantly, and he clenches his teeth and chants to himself, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, but he does anyway.

It hurt so much to be alone again.


He walks down the street and shivers as the breeze blows strong against his thin sweater, but doesn't do anything else but continue to walk towards the place he knew he would be welcomed to.

The graveyard.

Of course it's this place, Tsunayoshi never makes mistakes in where he belongs. The graveyard is silent as he pushes the rusty gates open, its creaking being the only sound in the silent night. No one cared for the dead on the fourteenth of February. Everyone was obviously having fun going on dates and watching movies, but then again, Tsunayoshi doesn't have anyone by his side.

He wipes away his tears with a swipe and walks gingerly to grave number eighteen and sits down in front of it, dusting away any dirt on the gravestone. He knew Kyoya wouldn't like his tombstone to be ugly and dirty and insignificant, and oh shit, Tsunayoshi triggers his own tear glands at the mere mention of 'insignificant' and starts bawling his eyes out, curling up into a fetal position as he sobs and wails and screams, but no one hears him anyway because he's alone in this world.

He clenches his fist tightly and digs his own nails deep into his palm, deep enough to make him bleed, but shallow enough not to kill him through excessive blood loss. It hurt, darn it, but Tsunayoshi didn't care anymore.

He contemplates suicide for the umpteenth time, but he's too scared. Too scared, a coward and a disgusting loser. Disgusting, he thought to himself. He no longer had a dying will; he had the will to die. He's a funny bastard for thinking of such a pun, he thinks, but there's no one there to laugh with him because he's alone in this cold and dark world that no longer held any significance to him.


It's an hour later when he feels too cold, cold like death itself but too warm for him to freeze to death. The chill seeps into his bones and he can't stop shivering, but he just sits there, waiting, waiting, waiting, but obviously, no one comes for him, because he's all alone in this world.

His watch ticks as the seconds pass, and Tsunayoshi's heartbeat matches it slowly, forming a peculiar rhythm. Just like how I used to listen to Kyoya's heartbeat with mine at night, he thinks, and smiles bitterly at the distant and foggy memory of them before the cloud died.

I'm a wreck, he mumbles to himself, and then lets out a forced laugh to lighten up his mood, but fails miserably anyway and sighs instead. It's hard to live on when you're alone.

Kyoya must be waiting for me in Heaven, he thinks, dismissing the thought that maybe, just maybe, Kyoya was in hell, burning and dying and dying in pain, but then again, Kyoya's buried six feet underground so he can't be dying again.

Or can he?

Tsunayoshi shakes his head vehemently, and willed himself to think happy thoughts, but it immediately makes him feel like his stomach is coiling and twisting and being squeezed and pulled out of his body, and it hurt, darn it, it hurt so bad but he's too cowardly to end his life, end his suffering, so he chooses to sit in silence next to Kyoya's tomb, listening to his own uneven breathing that was the only noise at three in the morning.

He could almost feel Gokudera's fingers on his shoulders, begging for help, scratching into his shoulders, desperate for his precious Tenth to help him, while he hears Yamamoto's choked sobs and pleas to save him, but all he did was stand and watch in horror, watch his guardians died one by one and drop dead. Up till this day, though, he could still remember the look on Kyoya's face as the poison took place, destroying him on the inside, killing him, eating up his organs and disintegrating him whole.

But Kyoya never made a sound. He had laid there, enduring, fighting, because he knew he was the last of the Guardians left that Tsunayoshi had, the one and only ray of hope that was left.

It was scary, how death seemed to work in mysterious ways, how humans acted when pushed by their fears, and how time never played on his side.

He's the last one standing. He had killed the group targeting them, and burnt all the insiders of Vongola that had provided them information and aided in his guardians' deaths.

As usual, he was late.


He knows he's the last one, but he had survived.


It's the fourteenth of February, it's dark and cold and Tsunayoshi doesn't have anyone to call his own, but he's fine with that because he has now decided his fate.

He's going to live, for his family, for Kyoya.