I must say, I was a bit overwhelmed by the amount of positive responses the first chapter created, and I am glad to know that everybody is so enthusiastic!

IMPORTANT. ISH:

Something I should probably mention to you guys from beforehand: as mentioned by the creator of KHR, Reborn's real name is Renato Sinclair. He will be called that only in Tsuna's third person's POV. To others and 12 year old Reborn, he is Renato.

Enjoy!

Tsuna had gone through some weird shit in his life, so this one did not really take the cake.

His mind worked quickly and simply:

Get the kid and get out of here.

He dashed forward, covering his hands with the familiar mittens, flexing his fingers lightly when they turned into red gloves. Reborn was surprised by his speed, Tsuna knew, and something about that felt a teeny bit weird.

'This means', he decided as he slung Reborn over his right shoulder, feet leaving the ground, 'that this isn't the Reborn I know.'

Besides, it was physically impossible for any living creature to bound and gag Reborn. At least the Reborn he knew, at any rate.

'The Ten-Year-Bazooka?' Tsuna questioned himself, bracing his body as the roof caved in and gave away. Swiftly weaving through the chunks of roof materials that came hurling in his direction, he emerged outside seconds later. 'Seems unlikely,' he concluded, twisting mid air to glance at the burning building, 'But Reborn's not the type to allow the Bazooka to hit him. That, and the one who suddenly found himself here is me.'

He headed towards the ground just as he felt the person on his shoulder wriggling in what Tsuna concluded as fear.

'Of course, I am not even sure whether this is Reborn.'

That was officially the stupidest statement he had ever thought, Tsuna realized. Every instinct in him was telling him that this kid was Reborn and it had become somewhat mentally impossible for Tsuna to not recognize Reborn. He knew for a fact that he was capable of recognizing Reborn (and the rest of his family, frankly) even without touching, hearing or seeing the other.

'I'm in the past then,' he concluded with a tired sigh. Honestly, he was far too used to time-travel mishaps to be even a bit worried.

Landing softly on his feet, he felt the body on his shoulder squirming, almost violently. He placed Reborn on the floor so that they were facing each other. Reborn's eyes were wide with fear yet defiant, struggling wildly against restraints, daring Tsuna to do something Tsuna was sure he'd prefer dying before executing.

Bristling in anger at the sight of blood caking the boy's forehead (a blunt object had hit him there, Tsuna's mind immediately supplied), bruises littering whatever parts Tsuna's eyes could see and the slightly burnt skin, Tsuna swiftly eased open the cloth placed in between the boy's teeth.

Coughs racked the small body and Tsuna immediately started petting his back. Black eyes turned to him, wariness and suppressed fury shining through.

"Why did you help me?" he spat out.

"You were about to turn into a pile of ash; why do you think?"

The boy's eyes widened momentarily, and then he let out a bitter laugh. Tsuna held back a frown; as far as Tsuna could discern, Reborn or no, children weren't supposed to sound so… bitter. Angry. Acrimonious.

Tsuna hated it.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Reborn asked, in between the laughs.

"No, I'm not," was Tsuna's simple reply, stepping behind Reborn to unravel the knot tying his wrists together securely. He pursed his lips when Reborn's shoulders tensed, laughter dying, no doubt uncomfortable with not having Tsuna in his peripheral vision. Gently, he pried, "What's your name?"

"You're really not from here, are you?" the boy whispered, flexing his fingers once his wrists were freed, "I'm Renato."

Tsuna had known that 'Reborn' wasn't Reborn's real name. He had never asked the man—the Reborn from his time—about it, either; it had never come up, truth to be told. It wasn't because Reborn did not trust Tsuna or anything as utterly absurd as that, but simply that there was no reason to reveal his real name to the Decimo.

Hands coming down to work on the bound legs, Tsuna asked, "No last name?"

Reborn bristled as he spat out, becoming indignant, "No I don't have one."

Tsuna had a vague idea about Reborn's past, told by the hitman himself, so he did not pry. He digressed, "What's today's date?"

"Tenth."

"Of?"

"April."

"Year?"

A bewildered gaze, "…Nineteen-seventy-six."

Tsuna bit back a small sigh, revolving the date in his head twice. God, why the hell was this so expected?

He stepped back, having finished untying Reborn's legs. Reborn swiveled around almost immediately, training a cautious eye on Tsuna, form tensed. Tsuna took in Reborn's face, smaller and much more child-like than the nineteen year old back in his time. This Reborn looked similar yet so different than the Reborn he had spent the past nine years of his life with. The ten year self of his Reborn had softer eyes for one, the face more… accepting, someone who had enjoyed, had lived. Had laughed and cried, someone who was in peace.

"Are you alright?" Tsuna asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Reborn bit out, flinching when Tsuna's hand reached forward. Staring distrustfully at the extended limb, Reborn stepped back cautiously.

"Of course you're not," Tsuna said mildly.

Apart from the fact that Tsuna was literally a living, breathing, Lie Detector, Reborn's ragged, almost choked, breathing was a very big giveaway.

"… You can fly," Reborn started.

"I can fly," Tsuna confirmed distractedly.

Reborn opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it yet again, tried to breathe; Tsuna swiftly caught Reborn's limp body before it could hit the ground.

When he stirred back to consciousness, the first thing he saw was the sky.

Vast and beautiful and so, so blue, that all he wanted was to melt with it or soar up and be free of restrictions and chains. Trees partially hid his vision of the sky; he was in a forest, then. Or an area with a lot of trees. Didn't matter. The ground was pleasantly soft, grass prickling his bare back.

…Bare back…?

He sat up immediately, gazing around wildly. Hissing when pain shot up his sore rib, he heard someone saying:

"Oh, you're awake."

Renato's head whipped towards the direction of the voice, peripheral vision landing on the man who had saved him from the burning warehouse. He was leaning casually against a tree, staring brightly at Reborn.

"How're you feeling?" The man asked.

Renato ignored him, struggling up to his feet, body heavy with fatigue.

"Woah, calm down, sit down!" the man suggested immediately, suddenly there in half a second when he had been at a distance of fifty metres away from him. He caught Renato by the base of his back before he could fall back in surprise. Firm hands clasped his shoulders, gently pushing him down, yet using enough force to make sure that he would remain sitting.

Renato grunted, bristling. Savior of his the man may be, Renato preferred the man to keep his orders to himself.

"Leave me," he ordered curtly.

There was a short pause from the stranger, the palms still stuck to his shoulder. Slowly, as if contemplating, the man finally extracted them and informed him, voice light, "I treated your wounds. It will sting for a while, though."

Renato nodded distractedly, searching for his shirt. He did not need to look up to know that the man's eyes were roving over his body, taking in the various bruises littered there. At least the visible bruises, since the rest were covered securely with gauze.

"Who did that?" the man's voice was deceptively light, calm and insouciant, and if it weren't for how he was being used rage and anger, Renato would have almost missed the venom in the other's voice.

"Where is my shirt?" he asked, ignoring the man's unneeded question, resisting the urge to shrink into himself.

"Who did that?" the man pried again, his voice soft rather than light or calm; Renato did not want to figure out why.

"Why the hell should I tell you?" he demanded, trying to mask his discomfort. It was a futile effort, he knew—the man was easily seeing through him. "We don't even know each other!"

"You can call me Tsuna," Tsuna recited and Renato blinked.

Well… that had been unexpected.

"And you are Renato—that's enough of an introduction, isn't it?"

"Of course it's not. Are you an idiot?" Renato shot back.

There, he had said it. Hopefully, the man would become angry at him for insulting someone elder, and leave him alone. Adults were like that—they hated being insulted, but had no qualms about insulting children.

Unexpectedly, however, the man laughed. It was amused laughter, mixed with some… knowledge of sort, and it did everything to make Renato's annoyance level rise up. Renato scowled contemptuously at him, insulted. Oh, the irony.

"You don't know anything about me!" he yelled angrily, "Now give me my shirt!"

"I have it," Tsuna said simply, "But it hardly resembles a shirt now, y'know? It's a bit burnt and soaked with blood…" the man's voice trailed off, lips pursing and eyes narrowing as they took in the bruises yet again.

Renato tried not to squirm; the man looked angry now, plain furious, the rage shimmering underneath brown eyes. Renato was thankful that the anger wasn't directed towards his existence; he had had enough of it to last the week, anyway. The man's eyes rose to meet his, and Renato stared right back, defiant, refusing to back down, to look away. It took him a moment to realize that the man did not want him to back down, did not expect him to back down.

It felt… odd, truth to be told.

Tsuna broke the eye contact, looked to his right and sighed.

"What's your age?" he asked.

"How does it matter?"

The brunette shrugged, "It doesn't. Just asking."

"…Twelve. Now where's my shirt?"

The man's eyebrows rose up in surprise, "Twelve?" he asked almost incredulously, "You look ten!"

"Yes, I'm short, I know." Renato hissed out, "Now give. Me. My. Shirt!"

Tsuna paused, stared at him calculatingly again before producing the white material seemingly out of nowhere and draping it over Renato form. Renato tensed at the man's propinquity, slipping his hands through the sleeves only when the man had taken two steps back.

"So…" the stranger who called himself 'Tsuna' started, "where do you live?"

Renato largely ignored the glances of derision and contempt that people flashed at him, their recognition of his existence in their gazes largely evident.

He could run if he wanted to, but he was exhausted. Breathing was a bit of a problem, but surprisingly less difficult than what he had imagined it to be. He used his legs quickly, walking fast, keeping mostly to the sides, away from the civilians. His fingers twitched in barely concealed annoyance as he glanced behind him, scowling at the brunette his eyes were coming in contact with after every fifteen seconds.

"Why are you following me?!" Renato yelled, irate, feigning ignorance to the disapproving glances people shot at him.

Tsuna shrugged, "What makes you think I am following you?"

"Because you are following me!"

"Of course I am not. You think I am, but, in fact, that's not the case."

"Stop being near me, then!" Renato snapped back, increasing his pace.

Tsuna raised a brow, "I don't think I am anywhere near you, Renato. I have been maintaining a distance of about ten feet from you, and ten feet's pretty huge."

Renato spun around and glared. Tsuna stopped in his tracks, retraced two steps, paused, measured the distance and took half a step forward. Renato, much to his irritation, realized that there was a distance of ten feet in between them.

It didn't help that Tsuna had been easily keeping up with Renato's jogging speed for the past forty five minutes, despite walking pretty languidly.

"Leave me alone," Renato hissed.

"I haven't really said anything, you know, even though I know that you've been walking in circles."

"That just shows that you have been following me," Renato said triumphantly.

Tsuna grinned, "Touché."

Despite having lost the argument with a twelve year old, Tsuna hardly looked perturbed or irate. Just lightly amused.

It grated on Renato nerves.

"Why the hell are you following me?!"

"I can be pretty persuasive."

Renato sneered, the expression on his face unbefitting of a twelve year old, "What do you want?"

Tsuna looked at him contemplatively again, gaze sharp, eyes all knowing. Renato resisted the urge to squirm, swallowing thickly, feeling himself perspiring. He stood rooted to the ground, however, too stubborn to admit defeat.

Tsuna's lips tilted upwards, just a little at one corner. The man sighed, shaking his head lightly, "I'm just waiting."

"For what?"

Tsuan did not reply.

"Fine!" Renato bellowed, "No need to tell me but leave me alone!" He did not wait to see the other's response. Quickly, he melded himself into the crowd, allowing the sea of people to flow past him, blending in fluidly with them. He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them, felt himself being pushed.

He moved with the crowd; one face in a million. The man could never find him.

He rang the bell, letting his arm fall once the task was done.

He chanced a glance around him once again, making sure to look at every corner, every turn, whatever bit his eyes were capable of scanning at this point. He breathed out in relief—the stranger was nowhere to be seen.

'I've lost him,' Renato thought, glad, 'Good.'

He rang the bell again, twice this time. Shifting uncomfortably, he worried his lower lip for a while, grimacing at the sight of his burnt and blood stained shirt.

"Renato!" he heard his mother greet him worriedly once the door had clicked open, "Where were you, I was so worried—"

Renato grimaced yet again. If there was another thing he hated, it was making his mother worry. Really, she had enough in her plate already without having to worry about a son incapable of taking care of himself.

"I'm back, mum," he said softly, entering the little apartment. It wasn't what he'd call comfortable or homey as such—nothing about this place was homey; dark and damp, cold and so goddamn disgusting.

His mother felt the same, too, he knew. That was why he wanted to leave, get his mother out of here.

"Oh my God, Renato, is that blood—"

"I tripped," he lied.

"And your shirt's burnt—"

"There was fire," he said simply, "Honestly, mum, it's nothing to worry about."

She pursed her lips, eyes sad, understanding yet not quite. She looked ready to cry, but Renato would not tell her. He would not. She did not need the truth. She had asked him once—more than once, in fact—but Renato had been pretty stubborn. Besides, it wasn't that she could do anything about it, anyway.

Renato gazed at his mother worriedly. Once a stunningly beautiful lady, stress lines were engraved in her face, laughter lines all but gone. Her hair was still beautiful—dark rivulets weaving down from her head, reaching past her shoulders. Her eyes were the most beautiful, though—bright green and lively, despite everything they had been forced to see.

She smiled at him, warm and welcoming, and Renato could feel the whole day's stress easing from his shoulders.

"Take a bath, Renato," she whispered, "I'll make food—pasta, since I know you like it!"

"Thanks, mum," he whispered back, genuinely grateful as she came forward and placed a soft kiss on his head.

Lukewarm water was used for his bath. He had rolled open the gauze which had been wounded around him by the man—Tsuna—around his body, only to find most of the raw injuries all but gone. Not even a scar had been left in their place.

The bruises he had received the day before yesterday, however, were still present.

He emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, dry toweling his hair. He had donned on a shirt and shorts, grimacing again at the lack of something else to cover the bruises with. He sat on the chair of the dining table just as the bell rang.

"I'll open it!" his mother called.

He heard the familiar sound of the door being clicked open.

"Yes?" his mother asked.

"Hello," a new voice filtered through, and Renato stiffened. He knew that voice.

He sprung up from the chair instantly, dashing up to the door.

"What are you doing here?!" Renato demanded savagely, "How did you find me?!"

Tsuna grinned and shrugged, "I'm a very stubborn person, Renato."

"Get out!"

"Renato…" he heard his mother call from beside him, "Do you know him?"

Her voice was tinged with fear, face pale. A stranger. This man was a stranger. They had never had good experiences with strangers.

"I don't know—"

"I am Tsuna," Tsuna greeted with a small smile directed towards his mother. He placed his hand in front of her, and smiled warmly, eyes so genuine and warm, so accepting that it almost looked surreal, "It's nice to meet you Mrs…?"

Renato watched incredulously as his mother's cheeks colored at the smile sent to her. Tsuna was still smiling, bright and so happy, eyes soft as he waited patiently for her to take his hand.

She did, a smile gracing her face, "Fulvia. Please, call me that."

Tsuna grinned, genuinely happy, "Fulvia it is, then."

Renato wasn't sure what happened next. One moment they were by the door, and the next his mother was inviting a complete stranger with a disarming smile in, asking him whether he wanted pasta. The man's response was a positive, and then Renato found himself facing the stranger in the dining table.

"What are you doing here?!" Renato whispered furiously.

"Your mom invited me here," Tsuna said simply.

"You could have said 'no'," Renato pointed out.

"Declining would have been rude. You know that. Besides, I wanted to see you again."

Renato gave him a wholly unconvinced look, "Why?"

"Because I am waiting," Tsuna replied simply.

"For what?"

Tsuna shrugged.

Renato glared. He couldn't trust this man.

This was going to be a long day.

Because now Tsuna has to do the following bit!

Please do tell me your thoughts!