Wah, it's Tsuna's birthday today-! Well, not today but for the fourteenth of this October. I didn't want to do anything else – I'm an impatient person, and I have still not looked up any reference books for the mafia. Am I not horrible? ...why am I writing like this?
Happy birthday, Tsuna, my style has changed because of you, but no hard feelings between either one of us!
I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you all. Many thanks to: Emotive Gothika, Maya, Hikair, Ginpachi-sensei, NeoGene, plummy-kins, Naome 666, Anave Lipad, and CH0C0CANDYZ for your reviews, and to those who alerted or faved this story.
If there's anything you find confusing or completely contradictory or anything at all as the story progresses: Let me know and thank you very much!
Restless Origins
Chapter 2
There was a consistent noise, a light yet solid one, almost like someone was snapping their fingers again in again. It was in a rhythm, almost like the insistent ticking of a grandfather clock's pendulum, never speeding up or slowing down. Tsuna had never heard it before, but he knew he liked it. There was something about this that made him calm.
Around him was clear darkness – it was almost like a blanket, but Tsuna felt no warmth. He briefly wondered about how his whole body could feel numb yet... It was though he wasn't held down by gravity anymore; there was a strange feeling to it.
He looked down at his hands, clenched into fists. On them were some type of gloves that Tsuna did not recognize, and around them there seemed to be a fire, a sort of flame. A nagging feeling in the back of his mind murmured familiar – know it, always have – before Tsuna realized what he was looking at.
It made him recoil for a moment, before he realized that it did not hurt. Even then, he was curious, tilting his head slightly and leaning to one side as he inspected it.
Tsuna fell. He didn't realize that whatever stepping had been lost until the fear of not knowing caught up to him. There was no feeling of ground beneath him, only air rising up to push against him, and there was a panic.
Eyes wide open and his whole body tingling with want to curl into a little ball and stop falling – Tsuna woke up.
--
Tsuna had been used to dreams like these, but he'd been trying not to. The sheer concept that he was imagining the impossible while asleep put everything he knew to the limits. You weren't supposed to dream because dreams meant things that you wanted. You weren't supposed to want anything because you had to focus, you had to know everything and to do that, you had to study.
Even everything had its problems. For Tsuna, studying wasn't books or papers. He did what he could.
His learning was decidedly different from other children his age, yet so similar. It was watching, listening, hearing. It was reading into the actions and the emotions, understanding the process between that. However, he didn't go about asking questions or speaking if he could help it – it was only with his caretaker he did that.
It was a selfish thing that Tsuna allowed himself to have. Just one.
One little selfish thing. It was like trying to understand himself. It was far too difficult to perceive why.
--
He was sweating again. That and he had just had another dream. Dreams were certainly interesting enough because it left Tsuna something to think about when there wasn't anything to think about. But he really was starting to dislike them. Waking up in the middle of night, when he could be sleeping...it wasn't very practical.
It wasn't something that Tsuna liked doing, though he supposed it couldn't be helped, accepting it as another fact he'd have to live with. He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, a tired frown on his face as he squinted into the darkness. Other than that, he made no inclination as to what he was feeling.
Pulling a little at his collar, Tsuna pulled his shirt from sticking to his skin, and let go. He leaned back, letting his hands behind him to support himself as Tsuna let himself take in the cool night air. While this was happening, his mind briefly questioned something.
That was funny. Where was the breeze coming from?
Almost automatically, Tsuna glanced towards the balcony doors, where they should've been closed. Moonlight was lighting everything through the windows, and through that, Tsuna could see in this otherwise closed room. The bulletproof glass windows were open; and he registered the threat with uncanny precision.
Tsuna willed his heart to calm, and he took in quiet breaths of air. His heart was beating rapidly, louder and louder until he could hear it in his ears. His outlook may have been calm and ready to pounce like a cat, but he most certainly was not. Licking his lips, he brought up his hand to his face to try to see it. He couldn't, and it wasn't that Tsuna hadn't let his eyes adjust. He hoped that whoever was here had the same visibility as he did, with one advantage to him – they probably were well aware of the layout, but Tsuna's caretaker was nowhere to be seen.
It could've just been that the man had shifted in his sleep out of the moonlight, or the moon had shifted somewhere in the sky. Tsuna also considered the possibility of – ah, that made sense. He was not very happy with this, but considering that this place was about to be raided, there was no helping it.
Tsuna brought his legs under him, prepared to leap for it. His eyes flickered from one side to another, as his body unconsciously held its breath, muscles bunched and ready to spring. Tsuna was not above running for it – he knew his body's capabilities, as you would, if you'd never trained it, never used it well enough.
He was small enough to be able to fit under several spaces and crawl into many others. The entire blueprint of the building had been looked at several times when his caretaker had been away.
For some reason, Tsuna found himself wanting to call out that man's name, but he couldn't remember what it was. It wasn't surprising, as there had never been a need or want to. But it startled him in a way: this almost cold empty feeling, numb and unnerved.
In the still darkness, there was no movement. Tsuna knew that on the couch, he was out of the viewpoint from anyone who could've come in. Unless they had been previously told of him – Tsuna doubted that
There was a cough. Immediately, Tsuna reacted, his right hand throwing the blankets up into the air to provide a cover. The effect of that was instantaneous as gunshots blasted the air with loud bangs—Tsuna didn't even hesitate as he stumbled past the intruders to the doorway – the balcony doors weren't to be used—Tsuna had no way of escaping from that way.
Before he could make it to the door, a rough, large hand grabbed him by the upper arm, jerking him back roughly. Tsuna was about to struggle when a familiar voice smoothed over to his. "I will break you if you misbehave." His caretaker. "Why the hell did you run?"
There was a heavy scent like musk in the air, and Tsuna found his eyes wandering down behind the man, where he could feel the wet sticky and warm something that was now oozing onto the hard wooden floorboards. It was a metallic taste just from the smell.
The moonlight shone that night, upon his guardian's solemn face, as the man pulled Tsuna away from the apartment.
Tsuna still didn't answer the question even then.
--
The darkness seemed to wrap everything around them; long shadows from the white moonlight were the only things that Tsuna was well aware of. Their movements had not been anything close to running, but the rough pull when Tsuna could not catch up to longer strides made him give out several cries. They stopped several times, his caretaker pulling Tsuna into several small alleys or sections of the buildings hidden behind others—shoving Tsuna right against the ground, as close as possible to the shadows.
Now in an alleyway that Tsuna did not recognize—having not left a home he had been in for quite some time, the sounds of night life scared him in an unimaginable way. His hands twitched, cold, and his bare feet were beginning to blister and skin was falling off from his scrapes. His body was far too young and sensitive, having not been honed or trained to anything—the Mafioso with him did not think much of it.
"Ah...fucked up bad." His caretaker grumbled, fishing in his pockets for what Tsuna supposed was a cigarette. "Didn't think they'd catch up so damn fast—stupid."
"What did you do?" Tsuna couldn't understand why his own voice was quietly restrained with an emotion he didn't recognize. He felt it to be a sudden squeezing of his heart, like everything was trying its hardest to be let out. He felt choked in ways he couldn't understand, and he felt constrained, suffocated. "What did youdo?"
"I didn't do anything. Honest. Just, well," Having found a crushed packet with only a few cigarettes left, the Mafioso stuck one in his mouth, rolling it across his lips with his tongue until it was at the side of his mouth. Tsuna watched the motion almost scrutinizing, things and feelings he didn't know, haunting him not to look away. "I don't know, had some fun? Give me a break – I'm a healthy guy."
Tsuna's heart dropped. The man hadn't honestly—
His caretaker shrugged, finding his light in his back pocket, before glancing up at Tsuna and then giving a growl.
Before Tsuna knew what happened, he was slammed against the wall; his chest felt like it was going to be crushed against the strong grip. Tsuna's cheek was stinging, hard, and it...pained. There was a feeling he didn't understand. Like he wanted to do something but didn't know what. He was confused and paralyzed, stunned, and unable to speak or think. His mind was a total blank as his caretaker looked down at him.
"...you. Will not look at me like that." The voice was rough and had Tsuna not heard the man say it, he would not have believed it to be him.
Tsuna couldn't reply, couldn't breathe, looked only wide-eyed and unable to think. He felt the sickening crunch of something snapping before his mind caught up with his body.
Pain.
Pain.
Unbearable.
Bad.
Pain.
Before he could let out a scream, a gag was thrust into his mouth and Tsuna nearly choked. His vision swam, and he felt his whole body give into it, until the sensation of broken fingers caught up to him and overwhelmed his mind. Being a child, kept indoors all his life, Tsuna had never had a danger happen to him in his life. There was fear and that, but physical hurt had never been a part. Apparently, the Mafioso thought it was high-time someone kicked the boy off the seat of ignorant luxury and into reality.
The man's face loomed dangerously near, without a hint of anything remotely human in his eyes. "Are we clear?" The way he said it said that if Tsuna wanted his fingers to get fixed, it meant Tsuna had to obey. "I asked you. Answer."
Tsuna's hair was grabbed roughly, and his head was forced up.
"You're not in a fucking daycare. If you die, then it's over. No one wants to be Family to a coward."
--
They went to a warehouse, then. His caretaker didn't care for anything of Tsuna's requirements, and Tsuna had to keep up or have his heart blindingly pound with fear. The sounds of the night scared him – and Tsuna realized exactly how huge the world was.
The warehouse was huge. Of course, warehouses in general were huge in themselves. Tsuna had never been one in his life, so it could be excused for a first time. He ran his eyes over what he could see, his field of view blocked by several large stacks of boxes. A large general area, with dirt and dried blood on the tiles – on the ceiling were old light bulbs that were flickering every so often, hanging down by old wires that were beginning to fray and lamp coverings that barely passed the light down below. Tsuna's stomach quenched in repulse and a shiver ran down his spine.
On his own, Tsuna would be lost. He knew very well that he was not mentally prepared for reality. He knew that there were more dangerous things out there, far more than he'd ever comprehend. Even what he knew about the mafia was only one of the many layers – there was so much more to it than merely murder and illegal doings, though those were an integral part of a successful Famiglia.
"Don't move." Was the stiff order, and Tsuna was roughly brushed past as his caretaker strode angrily through the door at the other end of the warehouse. With only a cracked and dusty window to it, as well as an age-old earthy brown wooden door, the slam that followed echoed into the large vicinity. There was silence as the dishevelled dust settled back down onto the ground.
As soon as several minutes passed, it felt like he'd lifted whatever covers was on his ears, gotten rid of whatever had kept him aloof on stability and firm control. Tsuna was suddenly aware of the buzzing the old generators above were making, how small he felt in this large space.
Children his age would've been running out doors and being a general nuisance. Children his age would've been little brats who couldn't tell orange from yellow. Children...who went to school, went to properly learn, went to know exactly everything – they were protected, they were sheltered.
Tsuna hadn't thought that he'd be one of them. At the stifled realization that all the sounds became louder and his blood was running cold, he felt exactly that. What was supposed to be the proper reaction? What was something like this supposed to be reacted to, without being looked upon disapprovingly?
Time spent alone had managed to drill such things in his head. And...Tsuna suddenly wanted to be one of those children he'd heard so much about. His grit teeth made a little sound his throat as though he was trying not to burst crying or shout at the same time.
His eyes cast wildly through the warehouse, dimly lit – there were barely any passages to walk though with all the cargo and wooden boxes of various shapes, and it was dark – not quite like at the apartment, but dark, with no moonlight, no feeling of safe. There were open boxes scattered, as well as some crow bars and other various things.
Tsuna felt his throat tighten as well as his stomach, but he could not draw his eyes away. Before he knew it, he was drawn to a particular device on the ground, crudely assembled, but familiar. His hands took them in on their own, positioning them familiarly around the handle, fingers moving to accommodate the much larger size. His whole body remembered with each pained bend and shifting of his hand's muscles, reliving the experience before the caretaker had set them back relentlessly without much care.
His mouth felt dry and he swallowed unwillingly, stunned. This was the same gun from long ago. Tsuna was sure of it. But what was it doing out here, where there was no need for anything like this? Or maybe there was a need—but what happened to the one man who this gun had belonged to.
"...I see..." He whispered, and pressed it back into the confines of the wooden crate, where his fingers touched other metals. All of them were cold and shaped, just like the gun he had had in his hands a couple of seconds ago. None of them, however, were what he recognized.
His fingers twitched for some reason, and almost automatically, Tsuna brought them over in front of his face. They weren't lightly scarred, but they weren't completely calloused, either. There were some scabs there, and Tsuna's right hand was twisted and fingers swollen and tough and thick. They looked foreign to him, purple and blue, pudgy and unable to move. It was a harsh reminder of what had occurred back in the alley. His hands shook with something that was not fear, a completely foreign emotion.
The feeling of being rammed into a brick wall – knocking the wind out of him made Tsuna tense. The feeling of pain and anger made his breathing unnatural and short. The feeling of wanting to see that man drop, blood running out like a slow facet, an unrecognizable expression on his face made him stare wide-eyed at the pile of guns. A shivering smile came upon his face, as he felt his face, remembered the hurt.
How dare you...
...how dare you...!
A gunshot ran through the air at the exact time, and finally, the door at the end of the other side of the warehouse opened to a Mafioso wearing a fedora and casually placing his gun back into his jacket pocket.
Without hesitance, the Mafioso said: "You. Come with me."
--
Tsuna's eyes drifted to the gun carried rather loosely in the man's hand, heavy smell of gun powder trickling from the open door into the vast warehouse. It was strong, so there had to be...a lot of fire. As though noting his attention, the Mafioso gave a grunt.
"You." The man with a black suit and a fedora said to him, his voice like a whip. He let his limber fingers casually place the gun back into his jacket, making sure that Tsuna saw it – it was reflected in his eyes, a hint of malice of bitter dissatisfaction, but an eyebrow was raised at the sight of Tsuna's favouring his right hand. Almost an indecent smile of scorn crept onto his face at that. "Come with me."
The look the man gave him seemed filled with the slight anger that accompanied frustration – it was a familiar feeling, and Tsuna willed his body not to move, but his body stepped back with a flinch.
Memories flitted to Tsuna's mind – but the face of the man who had spent the last few years raising him had no effect on his conscience. The bitter feeling, the dull pounding aching feeling of his head filled his mind with no remorse at all. Suddenly, there was a still realization that...
Tsuna did not ask about the fate of his caretaker. He did not think he needed to. It was simple enough to understand. The caretaker was gone now. Tsuna was never going to see him again. Gone so quickly, life disappearing with a single loud sound, body slumping to the ground with a face mixed of fear and adrenaline-boosted panic.
Imagining it now, Tsuna was unable to suppress what emotions overwhelmed him. It made him shiver. His eyes went wide and Tsuna could not help but feel the corners of his mouth draw up as he shook in what he believed should've been ecstatic pleasure.
The man who had gone against everything was now gone. The man who had never bothered staying long enough was punished and reminded of disobedience. The man who dared do that was gone and dead. Yes. That was good, wasn't it? They said it was supposed to be good, everything wronged that was thoroughly repented and returned back – revenge was good.
"Tch." The Mafioso before him gave a look of disgust and annoyance, grabbing him roughly around the collar, as though this was the sheer reason why he disliked children. "Stop crying."
Tsuna couldn't. He couldn't understand why he couldn't, either.
--
The man led Tsuna through a long white corridor, several other corridors leading in and out like a maze. It was pristine white, almost too perfect. The smell of heavy soap was strong in the air, and Tsuna found it hard to breathe. He pressed the sleeve of his shirt against his nose to block out the scent, eyes never leaving the tall man's back. The consecutive footsteps of the Mafioso were almost military in precision, but they were made almost carelessly, as though the owner was daring anyone to stand against. Finally, after what seemed like forever, cold tiled floor on Tsuna's bare feet, and cold seeping in through his chilled bones, they stopped at the end of the hallway.
A single wooden door with an ancient brass knob was there, and then Tsuna met the Mafioso's eyes. Before any other words could be exchanged, Tsuna was left alone, and the echoed footsteps slowly disappeared as Tsuna stared almost blankly at the wooden door. He was quiet, and for a while, Tsuna could hear some sounds akin to scratching, furious scratching against the walls all around him. They started getting louder and louder, overpowering and layering before there was a large BANG – several large bangs. Cries of animals – before – silence.
Tsuna found himself pressed against the corner of the wall, back pressed against smooth white wall, hands flat on the wall, as close to it as he could get. Images swam over his mind, and Tsuna could not recognize any of them. Numbing pain from his right hand did nothing for him, but white everything out. For a while, he stood there like that, heart pounding and threatening to fall out of his mouth. And Tsuna was sure of it: along with it would be blood, seeping out, pouring out, running out like a blood filled river.
Tsuna didn't know, but it was the exact same feeling now, as his hands dropped from the walls and he found himself slowly inching away. His whole body shook. Back then, he had spent many a day alone wondering, thinking. Hours passed by like simple movements and actions, repetitive like nothing else. He'd look back on things, "study" them – children learned by example and knowledge, but Tsuna lived on his senses alone. He wasn't sure why he felt something amiss. His whole body shut down in the shock of anything and everything, fear, useless – vulnerability.
A certain Mafioso, decked out in an army uniform had taken to talking him one day, each time he came over, chatting nonstop about his assignments. He normally came on weekends, when Tsuna's caretaker had not been there. Blond haired and certainly without good grace – he was a cheerful person, seemingly pleased at his wounds of war, someone Tsuna hadn't reacted to – just...he hadn't felt obliged to give that man anything. There was something lurking deep in his own mindset that had told him not to speak. An underlying fear of what could've possibly happened.
Unfamiliar notions, unfamiliar sights and feelings—
"You."
A cruel, not amused tone cut in like a knife. The man with the fedora eyed him, dusting away what appeared to be dried blood at his jacket shoulder as he came up to him, footsteps echoing lightly in the long hallway.
"What are you still doing here? I told you to go inside."
"...I'm sorry." Tsuna did not look at him, but he raised his left hand to the doorknob.
Almost immediately, the man calmly grabbed Tsuna by the collar – rough, ungentle – and pulled him up to his eye level, as though deciding that Tsuna hadn't understood what he was saying and perhaps Tsuna needed it to be repeated. Tsuna's arms and legs felt dangled, and he felt the pressure from his neck – choking, choking, the air was stiff. His right hand was grabbed at the wrist and Tsuna had to keep from crying out as the man squeezed almost toyingly. He kept his eyes blank, but try as he might, there was a bitter feeling to them.
"Go inside. Be a good boy." That Mafioso said to him, smoothly, eyes unreadable. They chilled Tsuna to the bone, made him freeze. Everything and everything was reminded, slammed again into Tsuna's mind, and there was no doubt from those eyes that Tsuna could not see anything. There was a darkening light that was shifted and placed again – a single pawn set down for elimination. "Or they'll call me over, and we both know that something like that isn't needed."
There was a slight pause, a slight twist of the wrist that Tsuna stubbornly did not react to, before – Tsuna was dropped unceremoniously down back onto the ground. It was hard and rough against his body, and he felt something crack underneath him - his hand - was it his right hand? However, he didn't scramble away. He didn't even get up from how he had landed. His eyes were cast to the ground and he didn't say anything. And instead of the emotions, raw hate that he had felt with his caretaker at the unfair actions and injustice – the hate that had blossomed to overwhelming satisfaction with – tears for no apparent reasoning...Tsuna could not – he would not.
He was completely unable to do something like that. His mind would not allow him to – he was not supposed to – for someone like this –
"They're waiting, so don't disappoint." As though reading this act of submission from Tsuna, the man lowered his arm, and opened the door for him, bowing with a rather mocking expression on his face. "You do not want me to come back, bambino."
His hand hurt, burned, something so numbing that it took everything he had to just walk away in what was defeat, utter and unbelievable defeat and shame, but Tsuna did not show it on his face. Behind his lips, pressed together so tightly, were grit teeth, and behind his blank eyes were tears that were not going to fall a second time.
--
Dreams were curious things. Some nights, Tsuna dreamed of smoke and ashes, flames of heightened temperatures, and eight people. Some nights, he would not remember it. Some nights, he dreamt of things restlessness, unrelenting. Some nights, they weren't even of those eight people, and maybe of gloves that withstood fire and a long fall to the unknown. They were never the same, always changing in some way or another, always so strange.
The room was not high or large enough by any means, but familiar – just right. Tsuna had never been here before, but as his eyes took in the large bookshelves at the corners, as well as the curtains that elegantly fell to shield the occupants of the room from outsiders, he knew something – he just didn't know what.
The carpet was large and beautiful, but needlessly distracting designs on something meant only for people to walk upon. The furnishings were old and ancient, but well cared for, and on the walls were portraits of previous predecessors to the Vongola name. Tsuna's eyes felt distracted as they pulled away from what his whole body was screaming for him to look at, but at the portraits in the room. Those eight, he had seen them. Were they not the people he had seen before?
A long shadow was cast as the light fell from the stand, and Tsuna's head snapped back. The man who shifted in his seat to pick it back up met Tsuna's eyes with twinkling eyes. "Ah, Tsunayoshi. We've been waiting." He sounded amused.
Tsuna was suddenly startled, and on impulse, he took a step back, tripping onto falling. Eyes were unable to leave eyes, as the distinct buzzing in the background lessened to a silence. Tsuna was suddenly aware of the fact that the room was filled with people, and the feeling that he couldn't feel his right hand - a dull realization.
Today, he would dream about a small promise, and a young man long gone who would tell him, "Buon compleanno.", and this would make him wonder a great deal. But at the moment, Tsuna thought of nothing but the words whispered on his lips.
"So it is you, Don Vongola Nono."
END Chapter 2.