An indefinite amount of time unto the future


There's not much he can say. The only things he is sure of are as follows:

1. Mostly, it was his fault. Had he not opened the box this would have never happened.

2. His friends are dead. And

3. He too is dying.

He waits. Bones are nothing but fragments within skin and tattered muscle. Ligaments are gone. Structure is gone. Sanity is gone.

He is alone.

He comes into himself and fears to come out. However, he must. If only for today.

Opens his eyes. Peers out through bloody mist and realizes the red is everywhere – within him, outside of him.

Someone is screaming.

Who?

Wait.

It's him.

Huh.

His voice sounds strange. Almost …

Oh, well.

Something digs into his back and he bites back a curse.

A glance.

Ah, there she is. The one who sent the box. But, he does not know. Does not know why, or how, or what, or when. He is surprised by the sudden spring of rage within his chest before it subsides. Yojaba gets closer. Closer. God, he wants nothing more than to wipe out that fucken smirk off her face, preferably by way of spitfire and acid and nails and knifes. She is so close now and he can smell the faint traces of nicotine that cling to her hair like rotten flesh.

"Hey, pretty boy. Long time no see," she says, all cockiness and mischief. She wears a white button down shirt and capris shorts. She's clean but he knows she's dirty. She's the dirtiest, scummiest thing to have ever walked the fucken Earth-

"ARGHH!" He screams when her heel digs into the gaping wound on his side. "You fucken bitch," he spits, left eye twitching and lip curling, "You fucken bitch!"

Yojaba shrugs, kicks away random debris and deigns to sit on him. "My apologies. It seemed to me like you needed something to get you outta that funk you'd worked yourself into. No need to thank me."

He can feel the bile making its way up his throat. He bites his tongue.

"Ah, my dear boy, don't do that with your face. It'd be such a waste for me to have to ruin it." She pats his head with mock affection. "You know? You know, don't you, Tsuna-boy?"

Her breath tickles his neck. Tsuna growls low within his chest. "No. Stop."

A bland smile flits across her face before it vanishes as quickly as it came, "No, no. Here, I wanna tell you. Tsuna, you want to know why, don't you? Why you, and not anyone else? Why not any of the other bosses?"

His breathing is getting heavy and he smashes his forehead against the floor.
"Stop," he says, "Stop, stop…"

Yojaba sighs, then smiles, "It's because you're my favorite. Tsuna, you and I… we are blood. All your friends, god bless them, well, they're just not important. Friends don't last, baby, they don't. But I, I'm blood, I endure, I conquer – our blood is blood or iron and glory."

He can't believe it. He knew she was fucked in the head but never imagined it was this severe. She is still talking but he can't hear anymore, can't feel anymore.

"Tsuna, Tsuna, listen-," she licks her lips anxiously, a glimmer of madness flashing in her eyes, "Look, I'm gonna, gonna get us outta here, okay? You just gotta be a good boy. A real good boy. We gonna get outta here and we gonna be together and you will love me as much I love you, little brother. We-we, we're gonna be happy, yeah? We're gonna be damn happy." She's running her fingers through his hair and yanking at it. She laughs. Laughs.

Keeps laughing. She's gone. He's gone. Everyone is fucken gone. The box is right there through it all, mocking him, an insensitive voyeur to his suffering.

"I bought it at an action in Milan," she suddenly says. Yojaba smiles. "Pandora's box. Ain't it great? I didn't even have to do anything, dear brother. Just stamped it and sent it to you. Everything else was the box. Gotta admit, for an inanimate object, it's pretty damn gruesome."

He wants to vomit.

In the distance, he can just about make out the dull thrum of a helicopter. His heart beats. Loudly. Everything is so loud. The red is so loud. His insanity – loud. She – loud.

He wants to die.

Yojaba smiles down at him and presses her lips against the nape of his neck, "Baby brother, let's go."


That's it folks. Last chapter formatting is most definitely inconsistent with the rest of the story, but I'll pretend that's a good thing - I'd like to think my writing has gotten better since I was a brat. Anyway, this story is shit; I wrote this as a sorta personal vendetta that needed to be finished or so help me kinda thing. I haven't read KHR in years and have yet to finish the manga, so I probably won't be writing about this anime anymore. Yeah. Whatever.