Hi everyone!

I apologize for my six-year hiatus and I want to thank everyone for their continued support. The main reason why I abandoned this story for so long was because of how I changed as a person. It became more and more difficult to write as I realized how much my writing style had changed, and how childish this story paled in comparison. This is not to offend anyone who enjoyed the original Tears of the Sky, but simply to express how I could not bring myself to give you what I saw as a half-assed effort.

KHR will forever be one of my favourites, and to do it justice, I wanted to explore the storyline with a greater depth and maturity.

Therefore, I decided to re-write this fanfiction in hopes of producing a piece that I would be proud of. It is my hope that in giving my absolute best to this, that you would become enthralled in the message that this story carries.

We will be visiting graphic violence, death, and mature themes to bridge the world of KHR with the ugly world of organized crime.


There was not a single speck of blue in the ominous grey that loomed the skies on New Namimori. Though it was the middle of the day, the air carried an awful, bone-chilling silence that echoed throughout the city. Many years ago, Namimori would have been a beacon of hope and peace to its inhabitants; today, it held little but a wasteland of broken dreams. A figure clad in black closed his eyes and mused over the long forgotten memories.

He remembered the sun warming his back and the weight of an arm thrown over his shoulders, shaking his frame as laughter rang out into the air. Specks of light cascaded through the memory, iridescent and intoxicating in its sheer enthralment. Even the rough indignation of a hot-headed teenager could not disrupt the peaceful harmony that these memories were drowned in.

He could taste it now - the smell of a home cooked meal and gun powder. Warmth — a feeling so foreign to his wearied body — blossomed in his chest and left as quickly as it came, leaving an aching emptiness. It left a bitter taste in his mouth as he licked his lips, dry and blue in the cold, damp air.

The man let out a shaky breath and faced the abyss above. Not even the skies gave him their benedictions today. How fitting, a foreshadow of how it would all end. He breathed in deeply, finding his resolve and steadying the shivers that racked down his spine.

Cold eyes that colour of liquid amber scanned the perimeter. Tall buildings protruded from shattered concrete like shards of broken glass on skin. He stepped off from an overturned piece of concrete and landed gracefully on the grand, surveying the ruins of what was once known to be a thriving, metropolitan city. The small town had become a bustling city once Vongola established the headquarters of its Japanese branch there, opening new opportunities for trade and employment. For all that it was worth, the fruits of their labor now lay scattered.

He nimbly avoided the tangled webs of frayed wires from the toppled utility poles, heading towards the source of chaos. The ground vibrated with the weight of heavy artillery and vehicles camped in the distance. There was no mistaking the timely pulse of the spinning blades of a helicopter, and if he deduced correctly, there were three just ahead. Even in the silence, he could feel the heaviness of apprehension and dread. It was a fitting soundtrack to make an entrance in.

Purposefully adding weight to his steps, the clickety-clack of heels hitting pavement stilled the bustle of activity as he unveiled himself from the shadows of a deserted high rise and stepped into the clearing. He recognized the space as what was known as New Namimori's Times Square. It was abandoned, save for a few broken-down cars here and there that were never claimed by their now deceased owners. The pride and centrepiece of the square, a large billboard that wrapped around the block, adorned a fracture across its screen. Static emanated from it and the screen flashed on and off, still hooked up to its source of power.

In front of him stood an expanse of armed men and though they stood united, he could recognize five distinct fractions among them – Gambino, Yamaguchi-Gumi, Sun Yee On, Lazovsky, and the Tijuana cartel. It would have been a beautiful symbol of political unity and syndicate bureaucracy had it not been for the dire circumstance they unified under. The ground force stood rigid in their gear, dressed from head to toe in bulletproof armour and equipped to the teeth with firearms, ammunition, and what appeared to be explosives on their harnesses. Four armoured fighting vehicles were positioned behind the grunts and the powerful rounds of helicopter blades battered the air around them, causing the man's spiky, caramel locks to dance wildly from the force.

"So it has come to this, Vongola Decimo. Or should I say, the Demon of Vongola?"

Among the five figures that stood at the centre of it all, the gruff voice belonged to the boss of the Gambino famgilia. Each of the figures exuded authority and strength, though it was obvious who the ringleader was.

Tsuna gave the words little heed, staring blankly at the group in front of him. Though quiet, his voice carried across the clearing with little effort.

"You would have known this was coming."

Irritation bubbled up in Sun Yee On's Dragon Head. He spoke fervently, a Chinese accent filtering through in its urgency.

"You gave us no choice! What else are we to do when you've systematically burned down every other organization in the underworld? If we hadn't banded together to protect ourselves, you would have just hunted us down in our homelands!"

A chuckle answered his outburst. Tsuna regarded them with a crazed glint of amusement, like a viper toying with a mouse. He tilted his head and flashed an eerie smile, confirming the Dragon Head's claim.

"You are crazy. Absolutely crazy!"

The leader of the Mexican Tijuana cartel continued to sputter profanities, no doubt out of fear rather than aggression, while the Head of the Yamaguchi-Gumi regarded Tsuna with sadness.

"What has become of you, Tsunayoshi? What happened to your honor?"

No words came from Lazovsky's pakhan, but his solemn nod towards Gambino said it all.

Tsuna became astutely aware of sniper rifles being pointed at him from different vantage points surrounding the area. Chunks of concrete exploded from his former position, no doubt a fatal shot, and at a speed faster than the eye could see, he pulled out his own arsenal from underneath his trench coat as he leapt up towards the side of a building. Retaliating shot for shot, he began taking down the snipers quicker than they could reload.

He was aware of the exclamations below and dropped down to deal with the battering waves of gunfire that followed.


Viktor cursed his luck as he stood stiffly behind his superiors, rifle raised in anticipation for their dreaded nemesis to appear. Why was he a part of the upcoming bloodbath, pray tell? He was a classic case of "wrong place, wrong time."

A month ago, he had the ingenious idea of joining the mafia group, Lazovsky, without first doing his research on their current standing. He was an uneducated, mountain hick that made his way to the city in hopes of big opportunities. What better way to do so than joining the mafia right? His lack of common sensibility thrice be damned.

How could he have known there was a monster eradicating every active criminal syndicate in the world? He knew his fate was sealed when they shoved a rifle in his arms and told him he would be fighting for his life amongst the last five mafia groups standing. Just perfect.

He spent the rest of the month cramped in a bunker with a mash up of the mafia's take on a hastily put together United Nations, with all sorts of people breathing down his neck and having their noses up his ass. There wasn't enough beds or showers to accommodate everyone, so they were forced to share. He caught a wary glance from the side and recognized it to be Diego, a young, stout member of the Tijuana cartel.

Upon catching his eye, he proceeded to stick his tongue out at Viktor. He felt his blood boil as he remembered all the times this damn boy kicked him in his sleep. He whispered as loud as he could without alerting his leader, "I pray to Triglav today that you will suffer a painful death!" At this point, he didn't even care that his Russian accent was coming out stronger than usual.

He felt someone brush against his shoulder and sent a glare towards his right. He shoved right back and hissed, "Stop touching me!"

It was a member of Yamaguchi-Gumi. The tall, Japanese man merely rolled his eyes and gave him a look that said, "We're all marching to our deaths and the only thing you care about right now is your personal space?"

The coalition of their various mafias and mobs was a shaky one, put together by desperation and only that. It was a miracle that no one had died yet.

His pakhan raised a hand, quieting the aggravation before it could escalate. Everyone was on edge and dissension among their ranks would not help the situation. His next words, spoken with true authority, commanded attention.

"Have you all prepared your wills?" Grim nods were the responses he was expecting. The pakhan sighed, running a hand through his golden locks tired resignation.

"Many of you have already realized that we are walking into a losing battle. All the stories you have heard about this man are true. In these last moments, I ask that you all remain strong and united. Division amongst us will not help our situation. Instead, may we fight and die in unity today."

At this, the other mobs quieted and listened in as well.

"We are the last of our kind, gathered here to leave our final legacy. Had we not decided to come together, our common enemy would have hunted us down in our very homes. He would have slaughtered us in front of our families, our friends…" His voice quivered with emotions, no doubt from experience. "There is no longer a shred of humanity left in this demon. I have seen him destroy cities and innocent citizens to flush out his targets."

The sound of fists clenching echoed the legitimacy of the claim.

"I am not telling you to win today; this is an informed act of suicide. However, we are mafia! If you have any pride as men, you will die with us in honour today! Our blood will mark the end of an era and through our sacrifice, the monster will be put to sleep." He paused, surveying the eyes that echoed the determination in his voice. "To death!"

A somber sense of pride and dignity now reinforced the spines of the men. They stood taller and bolder. However, that immediately stilled as the approaching echo of sharp footsteps made their way towards them. Viktor's knuckles went white as he clutched his rifle, preparing for the inevitable. Their leaders took one last glance at each other before stepping forward to engage their oncoming death.

At first, Viktor was struck with incredulity. The demon, the one that caused their men to shake and quiver at the sound of his name, was no larger than a teenage boy. A long, black trench coat hung from his angular frame but his eyes… Viktor repressed a shiver. Those were no eyes of a boy – no, he doubted they were even human.

It appeared that some dialogue was exchanged, at least from what he could catch snippets of, before the cue from his pakhan signalled the beginning of their plan. The snipers, camping above on high points of the buildings that still stood partially intact, began firing at the man. However, once the dust cleared there were only empty gouges on the ground and soon, rapid gunfire was heard as their snipers fell from their positions like flies. A few landed directly on their infantry and the morale of the men quickly dropped in their fear. At this point, they returned gunfire wildly and Viktor could barely hear the command of Gambino's boss.

"Stage One, don't allow him to engage us in close-hand combat! Keep him at bay at all costs! I repeat, avoid close-hand combat at all costs!"

Their tanks and helicopters then began firing, taking off massive chunks of building as they missed their target. It appeared that the man had a complete arsenal of long range and large calibre guns, if the speed at which he mowed down their numbers even from afar hinted any indication. Men were falling dead around them with bullet holes in their jugular, the weakest point in their armour. It was no surprise when a helicopter was sent crashing through an abandoned telecommunications tower. The smoke provided the cover he was looking for and for several minutes, they were reduced to shooting at shadows and air.

If this was what he was capable long-range, they would not dare imagine what he would be like up close. A piercing voice rang from in front of him, static muffling its overtones from the frequency.

"Boss! He's inside one of the copters. Our communication from them just got cut off - oh god! "

The hijacked helicopter was sent crashing towards the other and together, they fell like shooting stars directly onto a tank. It burst in combustion and the smell of burning flesh and fuel engulfed the air. It was a terrible, unearthly smell that would forever haunt him should he survive.

"Fall back! Take cover behind the tanks and put distance between yourselves!"

They barely had time to do so before a tank was overturned, tumbling several feet and crushing men as it did so from a line of orange flames.

From behind a pillar of smoke and fire, the demon Tsunayoshi emerged with fire raging from his fists as he approached them, clothes singed in ash and looking every bit like the devil he was. An inhuman, sinister laugh rang through the air despite the sounds of continuous gun fire.

Viktor was pushed to the side by shoulders moving ahead of him and recognized the Elite Force making their way in front of the grunts. They were flame users, tasked with the final stage of their plans. If anyone had a chance of taking down Vongola Decimo, it would be them.

"Stage two, provide backup for the Elite Force!"

Though they looked formidable in their advanced robotic suits, Viktor could feel the waves of fear lay behind the facade. They too, doubted their chance of survival even in their numbers. The mid-sized group activated their multi-colored flames and charged.

The last thing Viktor could remember was a massive wall of orange flame surrounding the army before he blacked out.

Viktor opened his eyes to see a world burning. The ringing in his ear hadn't stopped and he was acutely aware of the blood that was bubbling up with every breath he took. Warm, metallic liquid was pooling from his ears, mouth, and nose and the coughs that racked his body only encouraged the flow.

Strangely, he could not feel any pain despite remembering the fire that surrounded him. From a glance at his body, he could now understand why.

He legs had been burned to a dark, blackened mush and the arms and torso he still retained were covered in grotesque boils, no doubt from third degree burns. His nerves must have been burned off. That, or his adrenaline hadn't recognized the pain, which he was grateful.

A wail escaped from his lips as primal fear entered his mind. It hit him with overwhelming awareness – he was going to die.

Before he could despair further, a scream caught his attention and he looked towards its source. Amidst bodies splayed across the ground like flowers on a grave, stood Gambino's boss and Vongola Decimo.

The former was on his last leg, blood pouring from a gaping hole on his side as he pathetically tried to hold his innards in place with one arm. A gun was raised with his other hand and Viktor recognized it as one with the ability to infuse flames in its bullets.

Tsunayoshi, on the other hand, looked like a dead man walking. He was swaying as he stood and one of his arms appeared to have been blown off. A thin trail of skin and tissue was all that remained, swinging slightly with each movement he made. The colour of his skin had gone ashy and burns covered the exposed parts of his body.

He wished he could have seen how the battle ended but he was just so tired. Deciding just to rest his eyes for a bit, Viktor drifted off to an endless slumber. The last thing he heard was a gun shot and a body hitting the ground.


Tsuna stared at the man's larynx that he had ripped from his throat before looking down to the rapidly spreading spot on his chest.

Rain began to pour as he dropped down to his knees, strength leaving his entire body once silence pervaded the air and the sounds of battle stalled to a stop.

It was over. Finally, it was all over.

You would think that after carrying out the revenge you so sought after, that there would be a sense of release or accomplishment. Tsuna soon found it was not the case. If anything, it brought about a greater sense of hollowness than before.

Now that he did what he had to do, there was no longer any reason for Tsunayoshi Sawada to exist. He crumbled to the floor and with his last remaining strength, turned over to face the stormy clouds above. It was as if the skies were mourning over him, the last reminder of Vongola and the mafia world.

"It's been so lonely without you all. I… I know this wouldn't have been what you wanted for me," his voice cracked and the words got stuck in his throat, "but I didn't know what else to do. It just hurt so much and all I wanted was to be forgiven."

He stretched a hand out to the heavens, reaching for something he already knew was unattainable. They shook as he struggled to stay conscious.

"Please… please don't leave me. I don't want to be alone." Tears streamed down his face and a broken, quiet sob sent a wave of pain throughout his body. "When did things get so wrong? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me… I don't want to be alone. Please…"

The words became incomprehensible. Rain continued to fall heavily, drowning the sounds of weakening sobs.

It was cold. It was just so damn cold.


"I cannot allow you to do this! With everything he has gone through, he deserves to rest in peace. He hasn't had a moment since his friends died and now, you want to through him into this without any sense of closure?"

"Though I see the merit in your plan, I agree with Giotto's point of his sanity, Sepira. He is the strongest Tsunayoshi of all the parallel universes and this would remove the need for the Arcobaleno curse, but I am hesitant with the idea of such an unstable person holding that much power. What if we replaced his memories?

"We are not replacing anyone's memories, Kawahira. Doing that would be cruel and take away everything that makes him who he is. In many ways, what we're doing is more for him than it is for us. I have faith in Tsunayoshi Sawada, but if it gives you peace of mind, we can seal off half of the power he would inherit from the Tri-Ni-Set.

"It's not cruel that we would ask so much of him then? I don't like this idea, Sepira, but I know we don't have much of a choice. Just… let me be the one who speaks to them."

"Very well."

A hand touched Tsuna's forehead and he opened his eyed tiredly, looking up at the one who had awoken him.

"Primo… where am I? What happened?" He tried to stand up or look around but his body felt like it was made of adamantine. The scenery was unclear, shifting and contracting in different hues of grey. If he wasn't already lying down, it would have been enough to make him dizzy.

Giotta smiled sadly and parted Tsuna's bangs, "You died, after taking down the last of the remaining Mafioso with you." He caressed his cheek and looked lovingly into his successor's eyes, much like a father would to a son.

Realization hit Tsuna as the memories came surfacing of his last few hours of life. "Ahh… I see. I-I'm sorry that you had to see that." He gulped, pulling away from Primo's hand. "Why are you here then? And who was that talking to you?"

The older of the two chuckled and shifted back from where he was sitting, plopping down beside Tsuna in a relaxed heap. The ground beneath them changed into long blades of grass and suddenly, a bright expanse of sky appeared in their horizon. Rays of sunlight filled him with warmth and he could see a field of flowers growing around them. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of children laughing.

"When I was a child, I would often come here after my lessons to avoid doing chores. We kept a few animals in the barns and if I asked nicely, my bambinaia would let me help the stable boys with the horses. That's how I met G!" Giotto smiled warmly and closed his eyes. "If I could, I wish I could live in this memory forever."

Tsuna hummed in agreement, in awe of the beauty that flooded his senses. A delicate ivory butterfly landed on his shoulder; seeing a bright blue one approaching, he extended a hand and let it rest on his forefinger.

"The female voice you heard was Sepira's and the male voice, Kawahira's. You might know him better as Checkerface. They were the ones entrusted with maintaining the order of the Tri-Ni-Set as the last members of their species. The reason I'm here… and the reason for that conversation you overheard is that we are forced to act upon our last resort."

Giotto knew that his hyper intuition would pick up the hidden meaning in his words, so he was not surprised when Tsuna tensed beside him. "What will become of me?"

"After restoring order to the world and overcoming the many trials in your lifetime, you succeeded in becoming the strongest Tsunayoshi Sawada across the multiple dimensions that exist. There has never been and there never will be a Vongola boss as powerful as you. When you died, it created an imbalance in the universe because of how much your timeline tied in with the others. Your life is a cornerstone for other timelines to exist and in your absence, we fear the collapse of several dimensions. We have no other option than ensuring that you exist."

"You call me the strongest… and yet everyone around me still died," Tsuna's voice was barely a whisper. "Is this my punishment then? To return to the world I destroyed and have all my escape routes collapsed?"

An arm clasped his and turned him to his side where he found Giotto's warm, golden eyes peering back into his own.

"We're sending you to another universe. Think of this as a second chance, Tsuna. If you're the strongest Tsunayoshi, we're sending you to be with the kindest Tsunayoshi. Sepira thinks it will be good for you and she's never been wrong before."

They stayed like that for a while, just in comfortable silence before Tsuna spoke, his lower lip quivering. "I'm scared. I don't know how to live or function now that… everything's over. I just… I want to stay here with you."

Giotto pressed his forehead against his young successor's. The warmth shared between them was mutual.

"I will always be with you. You did your best and I couldn't be more proud. I'm so sorry to ask so much of you… but I want you to take this opportunity to start a new chapter and heal. Can you promise me that you'll try?"

His voice was so kind and understanding that Tsuna's façade crumbled. Ugly tears ran down his cheeks and his face scrunched up in an attempt to nod in composure.

"Thank you."

When Tsuna opened his eyes again, the warmth was gone and he could do nothing but fall into the darkness that clouded his vision.

He was falling. Before he lost consciousness again, he remembered feeling cold.


End Notes

Translations:

pakhan - mafia boss (Russian)

bambinaia - nanny (Italian)

Triglav - deity in Slavic mythology that represented sky, earth, and the underworld

I would like to credit: www. zerochan 1399800 for the artwork used in this story