Fuuta was worried sick about his Tsuna-nii, Lambo, I-Pin and all the rest. He hated lying to Maman, but it was for the best, Bianchi had assured him. Maman didn't need to know these things. She was happier this way.
Bianchi certainly wasn't. She never said anything to worry them, and she kept up a smiling face for him and Maman. But in the evenings when Maman had gone to bed, Fuuta would catch her staring out the window, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, waiting for someone who might never come back. Fuuta understood. He was doing the same.
Night after night, they waited. Bianchi held Fuuta in her arms, both of them perched on the window seat, watching the stars when they got bored of the road. He told her stories of the Ranking Planet and all the different people he had ranked. She told him how she wanted to hold Hayato like this if - no, when - he returned, but of course he would never allow it, and she laughed, her voice brittle. Fuuta said nothing, and hugged her tight.
Maman put a stop to their stargazing soon enough. She'd noticed the dark circles growing under their eyes, "especially you, young man. Growing boys need their sleep." They adjusted their routine accordingly; nobody ever disobeyed Maman.
Now Fuuta slept in Bianchi's bed; his own felt too empty without Lambo and I-Pin by his side. He would curl up against her, listening avidly as she told him stories. Fantasies, fairytales, true stories, all of them ended the same way. Love conquers all, she whispered in his ear every night before he fell asleep. Never forget that. The people you love will always come back to you. And she would press her lips to his forehead, and he would pretend she wasn't trying to convince herself as well.
Fuuta hadn't dreamt since Tsuna-nii and the others had left. This was probably because he'd barely slept. The first night he had slept had been filled with nightmares. Even Maman knew how easily Tsuna-nii attracted trouble, and that was before he'd ever set foot near the mafia underworld. Who knew what would happen to him now?
Tonight was different, though. He'd been feeling a little off-colour after it had rained all day, so he'd stayed in bed while Bianchi and Maman fussed over him. He didn't mind; at least it gave everyone something else to think about. He closed his eyes - and caught a sharp glimpse of colour.
His eyes flew open in shock. Turning to his side, he noticed Bianchi, staring wide-eyed at the nondescript wall. More flashes of colour, joining together to form shapes. Shapes becoming more distinct, forming pictures and scenes they could actually recognise. Fuuta reached out and gripped Bianchi's hand, and together they played an entirely different waiting game.
Mukuro floated quietly in his water prison, the only sound the gentle clinking of his chains. He hadn't been sleeping a lot recently. Chrome had disappeared, and so he hadn't been able to manifest properly outside of Vendicare. He'd been bored for days, waiting for her to return from whatever mental block was preventing him from contacting her.
Mukuro didn't dream. He hadn't dreamt since he'd escaped the Estraneo family. He had no use for his own dreams, not when it was so easy to make them a reality. It was much more useful to slip into the dreams of others. But he was tired now after waiting for Chrome for days, weeks perhaps, and so he felt blissful unawareness tugging at the corners of his fatigued mind.
"Mukuro-sama!"
What? Was that-
A forest. Ken and Chikusa, both looking far older than he was used to. M.M. in a similar state. A man in an enormous frog hat.
The images were steadily getting sharper, clearer.
A bag of marshmallows. Vases of flowers. The Vongola, looking identical to how he remembered them, except for - was that Hibari Kyoya?
The visions came faster, too.
A white-haired man with an eerie smile. Breaking out of prison. And-
"Mukuro-sama..."
Himself, with much longer hair and more rings than he had ever remembered acquiring, cradling an unconscious girl, the only truly familiar face here.
Oh, Nagi, he thought as sleep claimed him.
What have you been up to?
And Mukuro Rokudo dreamed, for the first time in years.
Shoichi was in the throes of another stomachache when it hit him. Very hard. As he doubled over in pain, all he could think was Not again. If he ever met his future self, he would kick him so hard he'd never walk again.
"Romario!" Dino yelled. The man in question hurried up to him.
"Is something the matter, Mr Cavallone?"
"Yeah." Dino gaped down at the lemonade he'd just upended all over his T-shirt.
"Can you think of any reason why I'm getting all these weird visions of flaming ponies?"
Romario stared. Dino stared back.
"Perhaps the heat is getting to you, sir. You ought to get some rest."
"Okay," and Dino headed back to his room to shower and take a nap while Romario discreetly dialed a substance abuse hotline.
Kusakabe nibbled his grass stalk unconsciously, chewing faster and faster as his mind was filled with images, both still and moving, of the services he had rendered - would render? - Kyo-san and the Sawada kid.
Kyo-san... What are we getting ourselves into?
Oh well, Kyo-san did have a knack for getting into life-threatening battles. Nothing unusual there.
Over in London, Spanner was busy perfecting his mini sucker factory. His hands moved feverishly over his tools, eyes unseeing as the visions flashed through his head, showing him infuriating vague flashes of every masterpiece he would create within the next decade. He knew one thing - when he finally got around to building Mini Mosca, he was going to equip him with the best damn defense system money could buy.
Xanxus sat in his throne and stared into his wine glass, giving his future-memories a blood-red background to match his mood. His future self had actually proposed an alliance with the clumsy brat? He'd kill him if he ever saw him again. Had he gone mad?
A slice of prime tenderloin fallen on the ground. "You expect me to eat this shit?"
Well, no wonder he'd done something so ridiculous. He'd been deprived of steak the whole time.
Squalo fumed as he sliced a dozen practice dummies in half with one swing. Kids these days... they don't know the meaning of assassination. The baseball brat's smiling face popped into his mind, infuriating him still further.
"Voooii! You'll never be able to beat me as a swordsman!"
"Well, who knows?"
Another slash cut down seven more dummies.
I'll take him in hand...
In ten minutes, all the figures had fallen, and only one was left standing.
He'll be the next Sword Emperor or die trying.
Lussuria was over the moon. He was currently having a vision in which he and the now-legal boxer kid were engaging in hot, sweaty, one-on-one combat training. We'll leave him alone with his fantasies for now.
Levi got memories too, but no one cares.
Belphegor was busy tossing knives at a dartboard with one hand and squishing Mammon to his side with the other. Mammon struggled to get free.
"Let me go."
"Ushishishi. Never." Bel grinned, his hair falling forward to obscure even more of his face.
After all that, I'll be damned if I ever let you go again.
Fran lay on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling. The strange images swirled around his mind, driving him to near sensory overload. Slowly, he sorted out his thoughts and attempted to recall everything he'd just witnessed. Then he spoke aloud.
"Who the hell are these people? I don't even know them."