Grave
An accident, and how Tsuna recovers. Inspired by GRINtelligencer's PH fic, Lingering Grave Dirt, although that one is much, much better than mine.
Lilies.
It was always lilies.
Oh, how he hated the smell of those deathly white lilies that seemed to mock him, here in the darkness that surrounded him. It was funny how even after they died their smell lingered.
And judging from experience, he'd be joining them soon.
He had been stuck in here for god knows how many hours. He tried using Natsu (even though he knew he was only dooming himself that way, flame needed oxygen to burn and there was precious little of that), but his box weapon was gone and so were the rings, and his dying will flame refused to come. He tried screaming, shouting, even banging on the wood, anything, anything that would get him out of this prison.
Nothing worked.
He had been counting the seconds, but he lost track somewhere in the ten thousands.
Now he was just trying, straining his eyes for the hundredth time, to see something, anything in this pitch black darkness.
Nothing. Not even a single crack. Of course they'd nail the coffin shut (a little sliver of icy-cold panic inserted itself between his brain and his spinal cord, and his hands suddenly froze up and no he can't panic stop it deep breaths in… and out… in… and out…)
He calmly assessed the situation.
There was air in here for now, or he'd have actually died this time (and wouldn't that be ironic, shot by a bullet that should have killed him but didn't, and instead it's death by asphyxiation). No, what bothered him was that there was a single wooden board lying between him and freedom. One single board between him and his family. Family that was both his Famiglia and his family, and after a year spent in darkness he wanted to see them again.
Never mind that the board was quite thick indeed, and he was in no shape to break it (not that it would break anyways; he'd been awake for at least six hours and nothing had dented it, not even his head).
His lips only felt chapped, which was good. And since he woke up, that meant that the younger ones had been returned to their rightful time, which meant that the war was over. Also good.
And damn his chest itched. He wanted to rub at it, but the coffin prevented him from moving around too much (at all, in fact).
He chuckled morosely. So this is how he would die. Not for his family (though it was close enough), not in a blaze of glory, but rather slowly and painfully in a coffin.
he didn't want to die
As soon as the thought surfaced, he squashed it back down again. It would not do to panic, not now, not ever. If this is how he died, then so be it. He was prepared (didn't he already say his goodbyes a year ago?).
… he really didn't want to die
No, stop. Can't think that way. Doesn't help. Stop that train of thought. What's done is done, and what will happen next is anyone's guess.
… i'm really going to die, aren't i?
Before he could stop it, the panic, suppressed for so long, burst the floodgates of reason.
someone get me out
i can't breathe
help me reborn hayato takeshi kyouya onii-san mukuro chrome lambo someone reborn please
please someone help me
let me out
"Let me out… let me out let me out let me out let me out"
Kyouya had left first. After all, the herbivores may not have realized it, but they had a boss to retrieve. And he didn't want a worthy rival dying now, of course. Not when things were returning to normal, or as normal as could be after a mafia war which tore apart the material of space-time and bonds which bound friends and families together.
When he arrived in the clearing, everything was as they had left it. The trees were quiet and still, and the sun shone gently down on the varnished black cover of the coffin…
… which was quivering slightly, as if someone on the inside was beating at it.
Kyouya growled. Of course the herbivores had forgotten. Idiotic herbivores.
"Stand back."
The quivering gradually stopped.
Two metal tonfas smashed his black prison.
The bright sunlight streaming down after so long spent in the darkness made him squint. He made out a head of windswept black hair, and a … bright yellow ball of fluff?
"Kyouya…" he breathed, before his eyes rolled upwards and he knew no more.
Kyouya looked down at the omnivore who had collapsed in his arms, the omnivore who moments before had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
His hands were trembling, scratched, bloody, with nails that were chipped and broken and filled with wooden splinters. There were deep, long gouges down certain pieces of the coffin lid that had shattered when his tonfas smashed into them.
The omnivore's eyes had been stretched impossibly wide, pupils huge and dark after the long exposure to the darkness, brown irises ringed by a circle of white. The eyes themselves that were normally warm and caring were cold, empty, and so, so wrong.
Sawada Tsunayoshi should not feel relief at seeing Hibari Kyouya. Fear, yes, and just a hint of happiness, but never was it full-blown relief.
"Rescued, rescued!" Hibird chirped, flapping happily around his master's head.
"Hn."
Without further ado, he headed back to the base. The omnivore would need to be stabilized as soon as was physically possible.
And he had a bunch of herbivores to bite to death.
When Sawada Tsunayoshi opened his eyes again, he was greeted with a blank expanse of white.
Am I dead?
But there was an annoying beeping noise coming from somewhere close by his head, and there was an oxygen mask on his face and the ceiling tile on the far right was cracked. He would need to get that fixed soon, or the next time someone landed in the hospital wing they'd complain, and then he'd get paperwork again (double the usual amount if it was a Varia member, or heaven forbid, Mukuro or Hibari).
He was lying in the Vongola infirmary, and he was breathing. There was no cloying scent of lilies, no stale air, only the smell of clean, addicting oxygen. There was no darkness, only bright white all around (which was slightly better, but only slightly). And he wasn't alone, he noted idly as his eyes flicked around the room. Hayato was slumped in a chair by his bed, a stack of paperwork and a pen lying by his feet. Takeshi was sitting on the floor, his arms crossed and his head tipped forward. Lambo was taking a nap in the next bed over, even though Ryohei had told him time and time again to not do that. Ryohei himself was nowhere to be seen, but that was normal – the Vongola infirmary's head doctor had other injuries to tend to. Mukuro and Chrome were sitting in two cushy armchairs by the door, and even Hibari-san was leaning against the wall, dozing.
The door burst open, and Ryohei came in. "Otouto, you're awake to the EXTREME!"
His loud shout brought the rest of them out of their sleepy states, and they woke up, blinking the sleep away from their eyes.
"Juudaime! Thank goodness you're awake! I was so worried!"
"Haha, Tsuna, it's nice to see you again!"
"Tsuna-nii!"
"Kufufu, next time don't do that again, Tsunayoshi-chan~"
"Bossu! Please excuse Mukuro-sama, he was worried."
"Hn. Herbivore."
Tsuna smiled as he was surrounded by warm, caring faces, those of his Family (and family), but still, there was one important member missing.
The walls were closing in around him. Everything was black. He screamed, but nothing happened. He was choking, trying desperately to breathe but only carbon dioxide came back in and hecouldn'tbreathe
Tsuna jerked awake, panting heavily. He glanced down at his sweat-soaked sheets before extricating himself and heading out to the balcony, where the acrid tang of fear wasn't as strong.
"Couldn't sleep?" a voice asked from somewhere around the vicinity of his ankles.
"Reborn! Did I wake you? I'm so sorry if I did –"
The usual "Shut up" and kick of the head followed.
Tsuna smiled. Reborn was back. Everything was normal again, or as normal as one could be after, you know.
"Wipe that silly grin off your face, Dame-Tsuna."
"Ow! It hurts, Reborn, stop hitting me with the hammer!"
Yup, everything was back to normal.