Angel Return, Angel Reborn
Summary: Byakuran killed Tsuna, or did he? FEM27all
Disclaimer: I do not own KHR. DUR
Warnings: This story contains a male and adult Tsuna who transformed into a female and teenaged Tsuna by a mutation experiment. Oh, and Tsuna has wings too. So if you do not like the changes, then you do not have to read.
The night proved to be quite chilly. Ken gritted his teeth as the cold winds whipped against his numbed cheeks and nose, like nails hammering deeply into his skin, and he was grumbling under his breath beside his companion. Chikusa, however, did not make a single word of complaint, but did admonish his animalistic friend to quiet his whining from time to time. And from time to time, Ken would pout childishly and slump his shoulders, though it still haven't lessened his annoyance of the bitter weather.
It was close to midnight, and already the moon was perched high upon the dark firmament; the luminous sphere radiating an eerie glow whilst the stars embellished the night. The breeze rushed through the trees, making the leaves shake violently and cackle. Transitioning the direction, the winds brushed pass Ken and Chikusa; crows glided along with the winds, screeching to one another.
Chikusa eyed the black swarm and said to Ken, "This way."
"Then that's where Mukuro-sama hid the Decimo?" Ken questioned.
He nodded. "Though he did not specify exactly where the Vongola's location is, so it might require some time before retrieving him."
"So we have to search through the entire forest?" Ken cried, throwing his arms in the air.
"Of course." Chikusa turned away to continue walking.
Ken obnoxiously groaned and quickened his pace to even with his companion's. "How are we supposed to find him? Didn't Mukuro-sama say that the guy had an alteration of his physical appearance 'cause he was experimented?"
Chikusa pushed his glasses higher, gaining a glint upon the clear surface. "How often do you see any mutants roaming about in a forest, Ken?"
"But we lived in one once when we were kids, remember?"
Chikusa did not answer, he was currently distracted by another flock of crows gathering at a specific area—it was within a couple feet radius between where the birds landed and the two men. His immediate action was to walk towards the area, which left Ken alone and shocked.
"Hey! Wait for me, Kakipii!"
More crows were advancing the spot, making the area seem more and more obvious. Chikusa narrowed his eyes and fastened his pace, disregarding the shouting that Ken called after him. As he treaded into the mouth of the woods, the glow of the moon vanished, thus leaving an eerie glint of the stars that peeked through the gaps of the forest. It made going down the pathway even trickier without stumbling on his feet with the lack of light, however, with the shrill screeching of crows that filled the tranquility of night, it helped him that much to know where to go.
If there were several flight-borne scavengers making their destination within the forest, then there must be a sign of the Vongola Decimo. After all, the man must be half-dead considering how Mukuro recently released him from his confinement and how the Millefiore scientists were experimenting on him—just like Mukuro, Ken, and himself. Yet, the Decimo must have been suffering much more…Knowing Millefiore Family, the prestigious and notorious mafia; they must have performed something cruel upon the Decimo, hence was contributed with blissful liberation by Mukuro who solely repaid the Decimo just as how the Decimo freed him. And perhaps he would now comprehend the given brutality they endured.
Of course the Decimo must understand. He was tested. He was imprisoned. He was treated unfairly, not like a human but as an experiment. How he was not supposed to understand the situation? However, whilst he is an adult, they were confirmed to be test subjects as children, confiscated of their childhood by men of mafia. They were aliens scrutinized by an evil institute, by the organization that stripped them of their wholesomeness to quench the filthy ambition of those malevolent members. And they were children! Innocent children who were taken their right to be children! It repulsed Chikusa utterly, to still see such immorality burning inside individuals lusting to commit a devious deed. Repulsive indeed.
This was what made mafias insignificant to mankind: they were all sinners with unpardonable excuses. It was impossible to condone them of their unforgivable acts for their desire to increase the hate of the world. Mafias. Mafias. Mafias. Disgusting societies of evil deeds. It was astonishing to think that the Decimo was actually a leader of such society. Well, eventually he would have his hands tainted with blood and revert into that of a wrathful, greedy monster.
"Oi! Matte!" Ken, surprisingly, managed to follow him without getting lost, which was good considering how it would be a pain locating him. He would likely run around the woods, somewhat panicked that he had gone astray. His hands were clasped upon his knees, panting heavily as he sputtered, "Jeez! What are you rushing for?"
Chikusa turned to Ken. "The Vongola Decimo is probably around here."
"Well you didn't have to run!" he exclaimed. "I had trouble keeping up with you, you know!"
"Lets keep moving."
"Ah! Wait!"
It was strange, but as Chikusa and Ken continued their movement, the forest produced a dim light that evolved its brightness. The brightness was discovered to be a wild fire that devoured the trees, turning them into black skeletons, and the grounds to an orange carpet. The heat was overwhelming, and the two men quickly receded away from the flames that licked towards their direction.
From afar, there was a building, and immediately Chikusa knew what that building was—it belonged to the Millefiore. Or rather, they were on Millefiore property. How come there weren't any guards? And why was that building set afire? What was going on?
"No way. Mukuro-sama did it!" Ken loudly cheered as a wide grin was on his beastly face.
Chikusa blinked. Perhaps…Perhaps Mukuro did this in order to save the Decimo? But why was it necessary to implant a blow upon the quarters of the construction?
Never mind that now. They needed to secure the Decimo.
"Lets go, Ken."
"Oh, right."
Chikusa glanced at the sky, finding trails of crows drifting in the sky and fluttering downwards further from the fire. The persistence of the search commenced again, and eventually they were in the same area as the scavengers. The bespectacled man treaded over the thick roots that budged out of the ground, and Ken was muttering to himself about how difficult it was to hike during the night.
From there, they saw a body lying. Chikusa's eyes widened as Ken gasped, "No way."
Hibari looked up to see a familiar woman. A bright and cheery woman…How was she worth remembering? What exactly made her familiar to him? He narrowed his eyes. Wait, what did this woman call him? A friend of Tsuna's?
Unexpectedly, the older female bounced towards him, an airy smile mounted upon her face. Instantly, Hibari did not like her and felt unwell by the jolly aura emanating from her. She reminded him of another bright and cheery fellow…one of the Guardians…The Yamamoto Takeshi herbivore? Definitely. And the Sasagawa Ryohei herbivore? Definitely as well. Not to mention the Gokudera Hayato herbivore whenever the Sawada Tsunayoshi herbivore was nearby.
An impulse of getting up and walk away was stifled; there must be some reason for the woman to boldly confront him. But then again, most herbivores that came to him would say something meaningless and a waste of time. He should just leave so that he could avoid hearing whatever the woman needed to say. It wasn't any of importance to him. She wasn't any of importance to him. He should leave right now. But why was that? Why couldn't he patiently hear out what she wanted to voice? It wasn't as if he had anything better to do. Ever since Tsuna died, missions ceased, therefore the deficient of legation for the Vongola name to continue. Henceforth, it would vanish due to the members somberly lingering about like ghosts and not aware of the matter. So why? Why couldn't he allow the woman to speak?
Why? The reason was so obvious: he was tired of hearing worthless, mindless chatter. If she wanted to make a conversation, fine. She just didn't have to talk to him in order to receive a reply. Everyday, herbivores would flap their lips as if they were given additional time—seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, whatever that was adequate for their liking. And because of each inhalation that they took to refuel their unnecessary discussions, the atmospheres stank of herbivores' gusts wafting into his nasals, making him ill and bring him annoyance. What a waste of fine oxygen. And then that oxygen will be reused by more mindless talk and reused again. Soon, after a decade or so, Hibari will die from the contamination of the air he inhaled due to its parasitical-tainted epidemic. It was an infestation that disgusted him utterly. Talk should be only used for a matter of significance.
There was another reason as well. Whatever she wanted to say, how was that beneficial to him? Would it make him more powerful? Would it strengthen his competence of battle? Of course not; she's cannot possibly perform wizardly miracles with a simple command. But what if she had something significant to inform? What if she can tell him how to penetrate the strong forces of the Millefiore? What if she could notify him of the secrets that could influence the Vongola Family? What if she was an agent from the said mafia and was reporting him? Ridiculous. Why would that be it? And it wouldn't be imperative to his musings anyway. Hibari should allow his impulse to act: get up and walk away. There was no reason to hear what the woman needed to say. It wasn't worth his time.
However, he couldn't move. He wouldn't budge from his seat. His muscles wouldn't function, as if they were behaving on their own and was playing defiance against their controller. He just sat their as the woman neared him, the same happy smile mounted upon her face. It was a familiar face that Hibari could not recall. The memory was obscured of the formulating of disciplinary tactics, the missions he always succeeded prior Tsuna's death, his days when he was a middle school student, the infant who emitted an overpowering sensation and the several battles he participated, and the bastard's usual grin. Bastard: Byakuran. His mind was also occupied with each and every Guardian who made an impression on him that would take centuries to forget, but apparently, stuck in the same accommodations, the plan would be tossed into impossibility. And what else was impossible was Tsuna.
The Sawada Tsunayoshi herbivore portrayed to be a peculiar being. At first, he was a nobody; anyone would overlook him for he was hardly worth the acknowledgement. Later, he evolved into someone to be keeping an eye on after his little episode of stripping inside the school boarders. It was soon after he developed into a stronger herbivore with many herbivores surrounding him. He was indeed paradoxical: a mixture of apparent weakness and undeniable strength. There was something about the younger male that makes him questionable. Tsuna managed to defeat Mukuro when they were in middle school, yet sets him free from his prison. The Varia inflicted pain upon him and his herd, yet he radiates no hostility. He had the authority and power to kill, but he does not kill. What is preventing him to do so? It was that that Hibari could never forget about the herbivore; it was as if his sole existence was imprinted into his brain, never able to forget about him.
Tsunayoshi was no longer a coward, Hibari had observed, but a mighty leader with an incredible force constructed of highly potential warriors. And yet why does he place a restraint on this stimulation and motivate the enemy to surrender? To surrender and later befriend with him? Why must Tsuna always see the good in people rather than finishing the work before he would be deceived by the false welcoming gestures? Like Rokudo Mukuro who was likely scheming to posses Tsuna when the time was right. It was obvious and Tsuna was oblivious to it. Was he suffering a fat tumor that infected his brain like how all rabbits suffer? Was the tumor bigger than most tumors? Was that the reason why he was blind to the devious ways of the illusionist?
He was an herbivore; therefore a blemish must demote his intelligence into that of a mindless grazer instead of a carnivore. Nevertheless, he proved to be a value of greatness, but was too gullible for his own good. He was a child even when he turned into an adult a few years ago. He needed to be guided because he could be easily misled. He was innocent, pure, and was full of bloody experience. He was kind, considerate, and sheepish; he hasn't changed much when he was in his early teen years, but matured quite a lot. Due to these traits that most treasured, were captivated by, he believed that he could negotiate with the bastard, but instead had a bullet through his chest by him. Bastard: Byakuran.
How foolish Tsuna was all these years. Too trusting and too naïve. Eventually he would taste his own regret, but death was perhaps a bit too far. How else was he supposed to be aware of deceit? Now dead, he would never know. If it weren't for the many trials he was opposed with, Tsuna would be reluctant and likely still alive. He disregarded the possibilities and jumped ahead, just like this woman who was coming towards him. She didn't know who exactly he was and didn't care. It was as if she didn't see the outcomes of misfortunes, thinking that no harm could come to her when she was asking for a simple request. How stupid. How close-minded. How unpractical. How much like the Sawada Tsunayoshi herbivore.
"Hello!"
She smiled at him and tilted her head. Hibari raised an eyebrow. And then realization dawned upon him. This woman was Tsuna's mother who attended to the graduation ceremony when her son was leaving high school for college. She was also the one who would greet him home after school, treat most of the Guardians with food, and attempted to invite Hibari to a party but he declined the offer. At that time, she mistook him as a friend of Tsuna's when he was forced to accompany him to a training course with the others—she must have seen him then. That was why her face seemed to be familiar.
She tapped her chin in thought. "Hmm. I don't know your name, which is funny because Tsu-kun usually brings home his friends." She clapped her hands together as a brighter smile replaced the genuine one. "Oh well! I'm Nana, Tsu-kun's mom. Who would you might be?"
"Hibari Kyoya," he unconsciously answered.
"Well then, Kyoya-kun," Nana said, lifting up a bag, "want to help me bring these home? I'm making dinner, and, sadly, there's no one else to share with. Want to have a meal with me?"
Should he decline like he did last time?
A large, black crowd of birds invaded the body, attacking it and ripping its flesh with their red stained beaks. It was horrifying to witnessed ravenous vultures feasting in a vicious manner, as if they weren't going to eat for another decade. It was disgusting to see another human being consumed by a flock of trash-feeders and being tossed around like a rag doll with their mighty teeth and claws. Nevertheless, it was difficult envisioning the body as a man—the birds obscured the figure and it was far too thrashed to be that of one. But in spite of this, it still remained as a revolting image.
"Oh hell. That—you pests! Get away! Shoo!" Ken charged at the gathering, driving the birds away. However, they simply fluttered to the side and bounced back to their dinner, completely ignoring Ken. As Ken prepared for another hurtle, Chikusa firmly held him by the shoulder, preventing him to move.
"Ken, stop it. It's no use," Chikusa said.
He grounded his teeth. "B-but! They're eating him!"
"As much I become to detest these birds, we can't stop. We have a duty to accomplish, remember?"
Ken clenched his fists, restraining the urge to rip away from his companion's grip and attack the birds once more. "I…Yeah, I know." He gave one last glance at the body and looked at Chikusa. "So…that wasn't the Vongola?"
"Mukuro-san would know better than to place him in a location where he would become trash-bait. From the looks of the uniform, that man was likely part of the Millefiore. Perhaps a guard or scientist."
"Too bad he ended up in the bellies of blood thirsty mongrels," Ken muttered.
"Yes…"
It was close to midnight, and already the moon was perched high upon the dark firmament; the luminous sphere radiating an eerie glow whilst the stars embellished the night. Though, due to the trees that remained standing away from the fire, they casted a shadow that hindered the glow to evade. What's more, the winds died, reducing the whispers that would brush passes their ears and shakes the leaves violently, causing the silence to shatter for its cackles. The only audible sounds that vibrated their eardrums were the tearing of skin and the gluttonous gulping of the crows.
"If the Vongola isn't here, then where the hell would he be?" Ken said.
Fernando Grantes, a man of a youthful age of nineteen, was stalking among the boarders of the Millefiore Family and cautiously ducking against the gritty soil that crunched underneath the sole of his boots and his fists. It felt like he was participating in a military camp except this seriously was about life or death. After all, he and some members of the same gang had snuck within the premises of an infamous mafia, thinking that they could steal something valuable, and if they were caught then it could lead to a literal dead end.
Unfortunately, they did get caught. Grantes managed to escape whilst the others were occupying the guards—or rather, being beaten to death by them as he was running away. But he didn't know them very well, so it wasn't quite as an act of betrayal. Besides, they wouldn't save his ass if he saved theirs, so what's the point doing a heroic deed? What mattered most was saving his own butt and return to the guild safely.
He tore the bandana off of his head and rubbed the sweat off of his face, and then retied it back on. This undesirable exercise went on for at least a few hours, and it was such a pain. His back ached, his legs were cramped, his hands were sore, his feet were burning from being weighed on for a long period of time, and he was extremely exhausted. So exhausted that he could sleep for three days straight. However, the guild leader won't even allow him an adequate amount of blissful slumber. That damned bastard.
Grantes lowered himself upon the ground so that his legs were outstretched and his stomach lying comfortably. He then pushed his elbows upwards, elevating his chest above, and shifted his knee inwards and slowly thrust himself forward. Due to his darkly tanned skin, it had concealed himself with the shades of midnight, making crawling out of the province simpler. However, his thick dreadlocks were continuously caught by twiggy brackens—why didn't he have his entire head shaved off so it would make his life easier? With the large bulge of his muscular arm, he dislodged a strand and continued his crawl.
There were flashing light lit over his head—either the stars or the flashlights that the guards were carrying. But considering that he couldn't take any chances, he hurried to a nearby patch of tall greens and hid there, waiting for his pants to level down. Grantes lurched downward and swallowed the nasty bile that was vomited into his mouth; the training was a bit too intense for his liking. True, he had went through bitter exercises back at the city prior when the guild inaugurated his acceptance as a fellow member due to the metropolitan's impoverish environment; however, it was quite long ago whereas he was a child.
When his panting had gotten softer, he continued to crawl beneath the vegetation. Grantes grunted when he felt a sharp sensation running upon the skin of his arm; something had traced a shallow line and drew out a bit of blood, damping his forearm and reducing his stimulation. He quickly withdrew his arm and hissed at the pain. What had made the cut on his flesh? It was too dark to even see, however, with his hand outstretched to locate of the cause of the infliction so that he wouldn't tumble himself into it again, his fingers were sliced by the familiar twinge and he retreated once more. Grantes narrowed his eyes and caught an obscured vision of a bush, no; it was a tent of vines, giving a vague impression of a hemisphere. The vines must be covered with thorns, hence the minor injuries Grantes have.
It was peculiar. Usually plants do not shape into that shape, but not that Grantes would know that much about plants—his home consisted barely any sort foliage. But it was common sense that vines to be arranged like that could not be by natural, thus man-made. But, considering of its location, why did the Millefiore design their plants so strangely? Is it the leader's fetish for abstract art? How funny.
Grantes moved away from the plant and around it. However, since it was far too dark to avoid it, as his hand reached for ground, he accidentally fell upon the tent and tumbled into some sort of ditch that the vines were arching over. Luckily the ditch was rather shallow so he wasn't hurt badly, but there was a lump making his landing quite uncomfortable. He shifted his position and felt his skin even more torn due to the spikes of the vegetation that he scraped against. Dang it. Today was becoming a terrible day—as if any other day wasn't as terrible. But jeez!
"Shit. Shit. Shit," he chanted in a muttering tone. Grantes stood up and grabbed onto the ledge of the ditch; it was an unfortunate try when he attempted to hoist himself up because his muscles were overworked. And he too was overworked. The youthful man lowered himself onto the ground and slouched; he might as well sleep till he regained his stamina, and perhaps there weren't going to be any guards marching on by while he is napping.
As he nestled himself comfortably, he realized that the ditch has white feathers scattered all over. It was strange; the feathers were rather apparent even when it was pitch dark. He brushed some feathers and leaves away, which revealed a pale child—were those wings?
"Oh shit."
Notification: Okay, the guy who was being eaten by crows was Guido Greco! And Fernando Grantes should look like Agon Kongo from Eyeshield 21! There! Just wanted to clear that. And also a reviewer just asked me about the third chapter, which was about Mukuro's last line. "Love conquers all", remember? What the reviewer asked me was if Mukuro was in love with Tsuna—he is not. I portrayed him to be sarcastic at the end because, well, Mukuro wouldn't lose his cool. Sorry for the misunderstanding.
