Feed the Fire

Bloodstained

kisskisskill

I don't own Reborn, no matter how much I wish

Warning: More blood in this chapter, and a lot more suspense. Things are going to heat up from here, people!

Beep... beep... beep...

Tsuna stared at the phone in his hand in disbelief, the dial tone sounding like a death sentence in his ears. "Papa..." At ten, and scared out of his wits, the boy couldn't help but imagine the worst; His Papa was strong, he wouldn't hang up on him like that unless something terrible was going on where his Papa was. Tears started rolling down Tsuna's cheeks as he realized he was all alone now, but he held his breath so he wouldn't make a sound, swallowing his sobs. He hadn't forgotten about the bad man that was in his house, looking for him. He stilled as one thought crystallized in his mind; this man was the one that had hurt his Mama. He wanted to hurt his Papa too. Tsuna wasn't brave, but his parents were the center of his world. This man had already taken his Mama away, there was no way Tsuna was going to let him hurt his Papa either. His Papa had told him to be brave and that he'd be there soon. If the man was still here when Papa arrived and he took Papa away too... He couldn't even finish the thought, unable to understand a world without both of his parents.

There was a crash from down the hallway; the man was in Mama's room, he had to be. It sounded as if he was throwing everything in the tiny room against the wall in his search. Search for what? He glanced down at the wooden box in his lap. There had been a bunch of strange rings inside it, like they'd been broken in half. Was this what the man wanted? His Papa had said to protect it but...

Another crash and the man started yelling curses. His voice was harsh and funny sounding, and it reminded Tsuna of the time someone had called for his father. His father had been so angry then, yelling at the phone in a weird language... Maybe this was the person his Papa had yelled at?

There were heavy footsteps coming back down the hallways and Tsuna froze, listening to the man's rambling.

"Where the fuck did you hide them Iemetsu. Fucking bastard, wish I could see your face when you find out your precious fucking Nana is dead." There was a pause, then a loud bang and the sound of something hard cracking. "I better find those rings fast Sawada, or she'll look real pretty compared what I'll do to the brat when I find him." The footsteps were outside his room now, and through the bars of the closet doors, he could see the man standing in his doorway.

Tsuna felt strangely calm, pulling the safety on the gun in his hand back by feel, eyes never leaving the man that was now ransacking his room. Remove the safety, aim along the barrel... He could remember his father's instructions from the day at the shooting range clearly as he brought the gun into position as he'd been taught. His hands were trembling, and this gun was heavier than the one his Papa had let him use that day. Brace yourself against the recoil, and when you're ready... fire. Tsuna squeezed the trigger, but that sense inside told him not to fire, not yet.

The man had finished tearing Tsuna's bed and desk apart, and was heading towards the closet, an ugly leer twisting what should have been a handsome face. "Oh Iemetsu, you sly bastard, if the damn rings aren't here then that damn brat is going to pay for it..." The doors were suddenly wrenched open, and Tsuna found himself blinking up at the man, whose face contorted into a sick, evil smile. "Well I'll be damned. The brat's right here. Let's play a game, little boy..."

Tsuna's instincts screamed as the man snatched at him. His finger squeezed the trigger convulsively, and the next thing he knew, Tsuna was spattered with blood and other things he didn't want to think about. Shocked brown eyes stared up at the man that had just been threatening him, flinching back as more blood hit his skin when the man choked and spit up blood, his gun falling to the floor as he tried vainly to close the gaping hole that been blown through the side of his neck. Red-black blood poured from the wound, dying the man's shirt a brilliant ruby red, and as Tsuna watched, unable to tear his eyes away from the horrific sight, the man coughed again and collapsed to his knees, mouth wide and frothed with bloody bubbles as he slowly drowned in his own blood. Coffee black eyes met Tsuna's just before the man tilted and crashed onto his side, shuddering as his body fought for air, fingers still scrabbling at the hole in his throat, smearing the blood everywhere.

Tsuna couldn't move. There was so much blood, so much of it, all over, just like Mama... he couldn't help but realize that this was what happened to his mother; that this man, this beast had hurt her, had probably laughed as she died. This is fair, he told himself, though a part of him felt like running in terror as he forced himself to meet the eyes of the dying man again. "Y-you..." He coughed, throat sore from all of his crying. "You hurt my Mama. You took her away from Tsuna. I hope you're hurting as much as it hurt her." His voice sounded strange to him, cold and calm, as if he was in a dream. But the copper stench of blood and the warm, almost hot wetness seeping into his clothes and dripping down his face said it was all real. "I hope you're sorry, 'cause Tsuna thinks you're too late to say it." He could hear the man's gurgling breath's becoming faster and shallower, the pool of blood around slowly growing larger. Tsuna shivered. The blood was so hot on his skin where it had soaked into his clothes, but he felt so very cold inside. Hugging himself and clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering as shock slowly set in, the child couldn't look away from the scene in front of him, ears full of the man's shallow, rattling breaths, watching as the blood bubbled from his lips and the hole in his throat with each one. The man's breath hitched; one, twice, then his chest stilled, his final gasp slipping away.

Tsuna never noticed when he stopped crying.

x

It was dark when Kawahira finally found it. The tiny house, with its neat garden, all the flowers closed until the sun came up again, seemed to radiate desperation, but only to him. No one else on the street seemed to notice the dark windows, or the front door that was slightly ajar, the children running up and down the street in one last, frantic game of tag, and students coming home from cram school dodging around them feeling suddenly out of place to him. As street lights began to turn on, and parents called their children in for dinner, Kawahira sighed and walked up towards the house, scratching irritably at an itch that hadn't left since this all began.

He'd been doing chores for his aunt when the phone inside rang, and she called his name, saying it was for him. Whatever he'd been expecting, a call from his estranged uncle was definitely not it. Kawahira wanted nothing to do with the man, nor the mafia that had killed his parents and forced the man to abandon his aunt, but Visconti's urgent, worried tone had sent shivers down his spine, threatening dire consequences if he didn't obey.

Tomoyuki, I don't care if you loathe me, but this is important. A woman has been murdered in Namimori, and it's possible her son has been too. I need you to go there, and if the boy is still alive, keep him with you and Mitsuki until our agent arrives to relieve you. Leave everything else. That boy must be protected.

As he walked up the concrete sidewalk, he couldn't help but shiver, wondering what this woman's connection to the mafia had been. The house and its surroundings seemed normal enough, bright curtains in the windows that seemed faded in the darkening twilight, and the small garden was well tended. Pushing the front door open, Tomoyuki paused, swallowing thickly as the stench of blood wafted out. Covering his nose with his sleeve, he stepped inside, feeling around on the wall for a light switch, walking farther into the house as the lights came on. The soles of his sandals slapped quietly against the polished floor, past the empty, destroyed living room and into the kitchen. He could smell the blood here, even through the cloth, and peeked around the counter, checking for the signs of the child, immediately wishing he hadn't.

The woman was sprawled out behind the counter, her face hidden from him by the angle and her tangled hair. He choked and was nearly sick when he saw the hole in her chest, and realized that yes, those splinters of white he could see were bone and oh god, what did this... If he hadn't have seen what was left of his parents after the crash that took both their lives, Kawahira would've vomited right there. Forcing himself to look away and ignore the horrible feeling that he knew her, he rushed down the hallway, peeking into the tiny bathroom just to make sure the boy he was looking for wasn't there. Unblemished porcelain gleamed back at him, and he continued on, senses screaming at him to get out of there, to get far, far away and not look back. He couldn't shake the image of that poor dead woman from his mind, caught between her still form and the bloody mess that had been his mother and father. The thought of going upstairs made him want to bolt for the door, but Visconti's words came back to haunt him, the unspoken threat forcing him up the stairs. He nearly fell, knees getting weak as the smell grew even stronger, and behind his glasses, his eyes were wide and terrified when he saw that the destruction downstairs was nothing compared to what had been done upstairs. He stared at the remains of the first room, furniture shattered and covered in the shredded remains of the bed linens. The mattress has been slashed open, steel springs jutting out grotesquely like bones, and the closet had been emptied, clothed ripped apart and flung across the room as if whoever had done it was in a rage. Shards of mirrored glass still clung to the frame of the vanity in one corner, and Tomoyuki flinched back from his reflection, confusing his pale skin and hair, and wide, frightened eyes for a ghost, just for a second. Shuddering, and suddenly feeling as if the dead woman's eyes were on him, urging him to continue, he headed down the hallway, one hand braced against the wall, tasting the blood in the air and barely able to breath as his stomach threatened to revolt. He stumbled into the doorway, and stopped dead, unable to tear his eyes away.

Oh God, how cruel you are...

Kawahira forced himself to ignore the dead man that was sprawled over the floor, knowing he'd be sick if he focused on the body too much, and let his gaze skip over the destruction in the room, the corpse, the pool of blood, to the nearly motionless form that was huddled inside the closet, half hidden by one of the doors. If it weren't for the occasional shudder that wracked the child's body, he would have sworn that the boy was dead. There was a gun held tightly in one of the boy's hands, knuckles white from the grip he held it with, and cloudy brown eyes were fixed on the body in front of him, his knees hiding the rest of his face. Kawahira shifted, and the child's head snapped up, the gun suddenly pointed at him, held unnervingly steady despite the tiny hand holding it.

"Who are you?" The voice was hoarse, and hurt Tomoyuki's heart just to listen to. It was dead sounding and hollow. He swallowed thickly, raising his hands to show that he was unarmed.

"A friend." There was a click, and his eyes widened, realizing that the boy had just released the safely on the gun that was trained on him. "Really!" His brain screamed at him to run, but the look in the boy's eyes nailed his feet to the floor. There was a terrible hopelessness in those brown eyes, eyes that he vaguely remembered seeing sparkling with childish delight on the few occasions he'd spotted the boy out shopping with his mother. That look was one he recognized from what he used to see in the mirror when he'd been a child. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt thick and fuzzy, but Tomoyuki spoke quickly, needing to the boy to trust him. "My name is Kawahira Tomoyuki. Your mama..." he swallowed, trying to ignore the despair that flooded into the boys eyes, "Your mama is friends with my auntie. You remember Mitsuki-obaasan, right?" A hesitant nod. "That's good. You probably won't remember him, but Visconti-ojisan sent me. He works with your father, in Italy." The gun in the boy's hand wavered, and Tomoyuki continued. "Your father asked him to contact me, because it's not safe for your father to come get you yet. But I'm going to take you somewhere safe, and then we can wait for him together, okay?"

Green eyes stared into glassy brown for what felt like an eternity, before the safety clicked again, and the child sagged, the gun hitting the floor with a dull clatter. Kawahira stepped into the room, skirting around the pool of blood and the in the middle of it, until he was close enough to reach the boy. The two stared at each other for a second, before the teenager nodded to himself, and pulled a clean outfit off of a hanger, then scooped the boy into his arms, wincing at the pained whimper the child let out as cramped muscles complained. "Let's get out of here, hmm?" He stepped over the body, stopping at the doorway to take one last look around the room, and hissed in shock as he recognized the crest embroidered on the lapel of the corpse's suit. "Vongola..." Shaking his head, he decided that now was neither the time nor place to think about it, and headed downstairs, taking the stairs carefully as the boy in his arms clutched his shirt.

They stopped for a moment in the pristine bathroom so that the boy could change and get out of the bloodstained school uniform he was wearing. With his muscles so cramped from sitting in one position for god knows how long, Tomoyuki had to step in to help, but despite the fumbles and the boy's mumbled protests, he was quickly changed, his ruined uniform left in a pile on the floor. Tomoyuki scooped him into his arms again, noticing, but not mentioning the box that the boy refused to let go of, eyeing the death grip the boy had on it but putting it out of his mind as something else to be addressed later.

He twisted as they approached the kitchen, shielding the child from the sight of his dead mother on the floor. He needn't have worried though, because the boy whimpered and buried his head into his chest, clutching tighter to Tomoyuki's shirt. "Mama..."

Heart twisting in echoed pain, Kawahira's steps sped up, shifting most of the boy's weight to one arm when they got to the door so that he could fumble with the lock. Spying the backpack and shoes just inside, he picked set the boy down long enough to slip his shoes on and stow the wooden box in the bag, and then they were out of the house, the door softly clicking shut behind them.

To Tsuna, cradled in Kawahira's arms, it sounded like the end of the world.

x

Reborn arrived late that night, long after Tsuna had fallen into a fitful sleep full of nightmares and grief.

Something woke Tomoyuki out of his own restless sleep, and on his way to the bathroom, he'd seen the man standing out on the sidewalk, face hidden by the shadows of his fedora and standing so still that it almost seemed as if he was a statue. It wasn't until Tomoyuki's eyes adjusted to the darkness that he could make out any details, but once they did he could make out the lizard perched on the man's hat. He was out the door in a flash after that, a flash of intuition telling him exactly who it was that the Vongola had sent to retrieve the kid he'd brought home with him.

"Reborn-san! You weren't expected until tomorrow!" He may hate the mafia, but Tomoyuki wasn't stupid. He'd heard enough about the prodigy hitman from Visconti before his uncle had skipped town to be able to put the clues together. He bowed to the Italian, knowing full well the amount of respect that Reborn commanded in Italy, and silently cursed the fact that he was greeting the man in only his pajama pants. "I hope you haven't been waiting here for long?"

The other man didn't move, black eyes observing the teenager for a second before the man sighed and relaxed his stance. "I wouldn't have been here until tomorrow if it weren't for the brat's father hounding me about it. It's fine though, someone had to stand guard."

Tomoyuki winced, looking away. "Sorry... Obaa-san went to sleep a little after she managed to get Tsuna-kun settled, and I guess I'm just not used to late nights..." He scratched his head, unsure of what to say. "Do you want to come in?"

One of Reborn's eyebrows rose in inquiry, before he shook his head. "No, not yet. I think I'd like to take a look at the scene before I meet Iemetsu's son." He paused, grimacing. "Is there anything you think I should know before I go, kid?" Those black eyes were pinning him down, and Tomoyuki found himself desperately wishing he had something else he could look at, feeling like the hitman was able to see straight through him.

"V-Vongola. The guy was wearing the Vongola crest on his suit. And he looked like he was foreign, Mediterranean probably." Reborn was still staring at him, once again giving the impression of being made out of stone. "That's all I can remember, honestly. I was kind of in a hurry to get out of there, you know. Tsunayoshi was really shaken up and I wanted to get him out of there before it got any worse." He babbled, backing away from the man.

"How is he?" The question snapped the teenager out of his panic, and he eyed the hitman seriously.

"Honestly? That kid is a mess. I don't know what happened in that house, or how long he was there before Visconti got a hold of me, but he's... He's not all there right now, and I don't blame him." Raking his hand through his hair, Tomoyuki slumped, exhaling heavily. "I saw what was done to Sawada-san, and it was pretty gruesome. Plus from what I could tell, the guy the kid took out didn't exactly die a quick death either. Watching someone die... I don't even want to imagine it." He glanced back up at the man in front of him, and instantly regretted it when that dangerous stare pinned him down again, dissecting him visually.

"Did he have a box with him? Where is it now?" Reborn's voice was low, urgent.

Air hissed between Tomoyuki's teeth as he inhaled sharply and he found himself glaring back at the other man, his mind running one hundred miles a second. "That box is what caused this, isn't it? That scumbag wanted that box so he killed Sawada-san and was about to kill Tsuna-kun too, just for some stupid box! This is why I had the god damn mafia, fuck!" He cursed as he turned his back to the hitman and walked back inside. He stopped at the door, looking back at the dark man. "Yes, he has the box. He won't let go of it, even to sleep. Feel free to let Sawada-san know the kid's protecting the damn thing with his life. His wife already did, after all." The shoji hit the frame with a sharp clack as he shut it behind him, shuddering as his he collapsed to his knees. "God dammit!" He slammed his fist against the floor, before shifting his weight so that he was sitting, his back against the wall. "God dammit..."

Outside, Reborn stared at the closed door for a second, before turning, and walking down the street, absently double checking that the pistol he had hidden in the small of his back was still loaded. "A Vongola, huh?" Pulling a cell phone from his pocket, he dialled and waited for it to pick up while he walked, enjoying the solitude while he could.

"Buonasera."

Reborn paused, choosing his words carefully. "It's me. I've checked in with Kawahira. The boy's fine, Timoteo. Shaken up, but that's understandable, I think." He stopped next to the car he'd left parked down the street; a sleek, black, imported affair. Leaning against the driver's side door, he exhaled, waiting.

"Good. This is such a terrible thing to happen to a child. Poor Nana... Iemetsu is devastated." The concern and grief was plain in the older man's voice, and Reborn shifted impatiently. "Alas, this isn't the time for grieving. Are the rings safe?"

"Yes, according to Kawahira. I haven't seen the boy yet to confirm it myself." He paused, silently debating. "We have a problem, Timoteo. The kid said that this may have been an inside job. I'm headed to the house to confirm, of course, but if it is..." He didn't need to finish. They both knew the penalty for betraying the Family.

"Do what you need to, Reborn. You have my full confidence." The line went silent, before the other man continued; his voice firm. "Bring them home, Reborn. Tsunayoshi will need his family, and we will bury Nana with all the love and respect that she deserves."

"Of course, Ninth. Ciao." Sliding into the car, Reborn relaxed into the seat before he started the ignition, tipping his head back against the headrest. "Welcome to the Family, Sawada Tsunayoshi. You're ours now."

Final theme: Nobuo Uematsu – Great Northern Cave (Remastered)