Author's Note: Well, hello there, Katekyo Hitman Reborn! Fan base. I apologise beforehand for mutilating your characters, but I wrote this after seeing a certain comic and it would not leave my mind. And then, of course, I just had to go and promise someone I would write it for them- Sorry for its ridiculous shortness, but I really just needed to get back into my zone. Angst galore everyone, and, before you argue anything with me, obviously this is slightly AU and has a bit of a back-story. Perhaps I will write that as well someday, who knows. I also apologise for my horrendous grammar, I am still in the middle of learning after all.
If you want to know any of the songs I used for this, just PM me or ask in a review, I would be happy to tell you.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything used in this fan fiction.
Enjoy.
- X -
Not Meant To Be Like This
I.
.
.
.
I keep running,
Running,
But there is no escape from this nightmare…
.
.
.
"Giotto!"
"Primo!"
"Boss!"
"Che...!"
"…"
Tsuna's eyes widened as he watched the scene play out before him. No, no, it couldn't be… He watched in horror as the blonde man fell to the ground, everything was in slow motion for him. The screams, the blood, the gunman being taken down by angry Primo generation guardians, the cries of Knuckle for Giotto to wakeupwakeupwakeupdon'tyoudaredieonus!
His dying will mode still activated, he was frozen in shock, watching as those golden eyes turned to him. They burned holes into him, almost as if accusing him of something. Why? Why did you do nothing? Why have you failed me? Why didn't you save me when you had the chance? Why did you cause this? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy? Why did you betray me, Decimo?
N-No, he would never hurt Pri-
Stop lying already, you and I both know the truth…
No! He had not meant for this to happen, he had never thought-
You never do, do you? You're not fit to become the tenth boss.
Of course he wasn't, he knew he wasn't, but it still hurt to hear it.
He felt a drop of blood hit his face with a splat, adding red to his deathly pale face. If only he hadn't done anything, if only he had been able to look beyond the moment. He supposed he deserved this, but it didn't stop the pain that came along with it.
He wanted to get out of this nightmare.
He just wanted to wake up!
Wake up!
No.
II.
.
.
.
Please, all of you, engrave my death, and keep living
And, from here on out, please don't be disturbed by what happened
You have no idea how painful it was
.
.
.
No.
No.
This wasn't supposed to happen!
G shook with rage and horror, turning his gaze from the man who lead their group and glared at the man, no, the demon who had come and snatched away their sky. The most unforgivable act out of anything in the world.
He could feel the others tensing up as well, some turning their own glares to the demon while others ran to the fallen man.
Maybe he could still be saved?
That's right! Knuckle could use his powers to heal Giotto! There was still hope yet, and afterwards they would all go back to the base, laughing, smiling, and going along as usual.
G wasn't that naïve.
He knew Giotto was long past help with one look, the pool of blood around him too large, his eyes gazing too far away, his breathing much too slow and shallow.
There was no hope left.
He couldn't accept this, Giotto could not, would not die in such a way. The man who did this would pay dearly. Narrowing his eyes, he whipped out his own guns, aiming them for the demon that had stolen everything from him. He wanted to get revenge for his best friend, to watch as the man slowly died of blood loss, he didn't deserve a quick death, he would die in the same, slow, excruciating way Giotto had been forced to. It was his entire fault that this had happened.
In all honesty, G knew that was not one hundred percent true. He was Giotto's right-hand man, He was supposed to always be there for his boss, always at his side, protecting and watching from his seat at the Sky's side. He should have been able to protect him; he should have been the one to take that bullet, not Giotto.
It was his entire fault.
If only he had fulfilled his duty correctly as the right-hand man to the boss, as the Storm Guardian of the Vongola Family, as a best friend. But he had failed, ultimately and grossly. He was a shame to the family, a failure of a friend; he hadn't deserved to be Giotto's trusted companion.
It was so painful.
Raising his arm, he pointed his weapon at the man who had dared to take it all with the single twitch of a finger muscle. And now it was time to return the favour. Taking aim, he mouthed words to the man, making sure it would be the last thing he would ever see.
Dear me over there,
No more pains?
Dear me over there,
No more smiles?
Bang.
III.
.
.
.
This world is filled with so many troubles
Reflected on every face
I just want to escape
This unavoidable fate
.
.
.
Bang.
Cozart's eyes widened as he watched his best friend fall to the ground. He heard the thump it made against the pavement, and smelled the blood flow from the open wound.
This was real.
No matter how hard he tried, he knew that he would always come back to that. It wasn't a dream, nor an illusion created by Daemon, his own angry face proved that, it was completely and utterly real. So, why could his mind not accept that? His best friend was slowly dying out on the dirty ground, a vacant look in his eyes, as he seemed to stare at nothing. It made Cozart wonder what exactly he was seeing. The reaper? A dead relative? He had no way of knowing for sure.
He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Snapping out of his revere he immediately ran over to his lighter-haired companion. Kneeling down next to him, he seemed not to even notice the rust-coloured blood soaking into his clothing.
The life water of his friend.
He put a hand to the other's bleeding chest, feeling sticky red liquid cling to it, he ignored the feeling and searched around for a pulse, the rising and falling of a chest, anything to prove his fear wrong. The demons in his head cackled, taunting him, laughing about how he had failed to help a friend in need. How he had failed to protect one of the things most important to him.
Pushing them out of his mind, he continued searching around, begging any sort of deity that the golden-eyed male was still living, breathing, with them.
For one fleeting moment he had found a pulse, it was shallow, but there. He sighed in relief, smiling down at the other male. That is, until that faint beating had suddenly cut off. The smiling was wiped off his face, replaced with one of despair and anguish.
He felt numb, once that reassuring rhythm had flown away. He had not even noticed Knuckle come over, trying to get an answer out of him on whether Primo was all right or not. Cozart didn't notice, he couldn't hear anything but the faint remnants of the heart that had been beating a mere moment ago. Nor did he notice the other kneeling on the deceased's side, repeating Cozart's previous actions.
He felt nothing.
Why?
IV.
.
.
.
I'm gonna fight for what's right
Today I'm speaking my mind
And if it kills me tonight
I will be ready to die
.
.
.
Why?
It seemed too soon, he mused, for everything to end now. With a watchful eye he studied his companions, gauging their reactions.
It seemed they cared for him more than they let on.
He felt his body falling, hearing the thump on the ground before actually feeling it. The wound in his chest blurring everything, he couldn't even feel it. He couldn't feel anything at the moment. Not pain, sadness, anger, or regret, nothing seemed to be able to penetrate the steel cage surrounding him.
That is, everything but Decimo.
He could see his successor staring at him in horror. What could possibly be going through the young boy's head? This certainly was not something he wanted the younger male to see. It seemed almost cruel, not to him, but to Tsuna.
That's the way the world is, he supposed.
How funny, he wasn't even dead yet, but he already felt like he wise. Blood loss does that to you, he supposed. Everything was getting darker, but he refused to turn his gaze away from the brunette. If he was going to die, he wanted someone he knew to be the last thing he sees. Someone he had succeeded in protecting and who would take on his responsibilities.
He heard footsteps approaching him and had the vague sense of someone placing their hand on his chest. Yet, he still refused to look away from the tenth boss of Vongola, determined to keep his gaze trained on the other. The person searching him seemed to have found something, sighing in relief. Oh, it sounded like Cozart… He would miss his red-haired companion, well, both of them. Not just those two, but also all of the people he had encountered throughout his life, but, most of all, he would miss his town.
He remembered being a teenager, wanting to save his beloved town from the mafia, Cozart, G, and he forming Vongola and beginning their life-long duty to protect the people.
He was glad he had been able to complete it to the very end.
He felt a wave of darkness come over him,
And then-
Nothing.
The sky had fallen.
X.
.
.
.
I'm alive, but tell me, am I free?
I've got eyes, but tell me, can I see?
The sky is falling and no one knows
It shouldn't be hard to believe
Shouldn't be this difficult to breathe
The sky is falling and no one knows
.
.
.