Disclaimer: KHR belongs to Amano Akira. Mahiro, the Hisagi family, Papa's Tasty Fritters, Anotsu Takatori, and Park Yoo Joon belong to sky of c-o-l-o-r-s

A/N: Chapter 10 is out! Finally! It's been more than a month! I'm sorry for the long wait! (_)

Has been BETA-ed

Chapter 10

In the relative safety of his friends, a small, brown haired boy struggled to breathe. This was made slightly difficult because Tsuna's nose was completely broken, and it hurt just for him to think. He could breathe through his mouth, but that meant that with every humid inhale of breath, the coppery salty taste of his own blood assaulted his senses and gag reflex.

Tsuna groaned, half in revulsion, half in pain as he spat out a hunk of blood and thickening spit.

"M-Mahiro." Tsuna stammered. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen; his right cheek bone where One had clipped with his fist was already purpling with bruised tissues. His lips were split and cut against his teeth. There was a spot of vomit on his collar. His left arm felt like someone had shoved a hot poker down its length. He could barely even move his fingers on that hand anymore.

Tsuna had never felt better.

He could still feel where the skin on his knuckles had been rubbed clean off when he had slammed it into One's belly. It stung like the time he'd fallen off his bike. Mahiro hadn't been there, but he'd gotten back on anyways because he wanted to accomplish something without her help or his mother's. And he had done it, all by himself.

Hot, sweaty hands clasped him under the armpit, and hoisted him onto his feet from where One had dropped him. "Tsuna." Yamamoto chuckled nervously. He half dragged, half pulled him back into the circle of friends. "That was some kind of acting there. You've even got the fake blood and everything."

Tsuna managed to slur through his mouthful of blood. "Huh?"

Oh, for christ's sake! He still thinks that this is a game? Kansai Voice groaned. In pain.

Tsuna frowned, and then winced when even that action caused him pain. What's wrong? You sound like you're hur...

Of course I'm hurt! Kansai Voice snarled. I had to fight my own bloody fucking brawl with that Dame-voice inside your brain didn't I? Fuck! Shit! That little bitch voice of your mom fights dirty!

A second pair of hot and sweaty hands grabbed onto him, careful to avoid his injured arm. Tsuna was enveloped in an impromptu group hug with Yamamoto and Gokudera. Tsuna felt, more than saw Gokudera crying into his neck.

His tears were warm.

Don't call my mom a bitch. Tsuna managed to think weakly.

Passive. Aggressive. Bitch. Kansai Voice bit out.

Meanwhile, Mahiro grew tired of Two grandstanding to his group of Neanderthal buddies and charged forward. The man stopped laughing with his buddies and braced himself for impact, already his eyes were glazed with arrogance.

Mahiro wanted to see them glazed with a concussion.

Mahiro leaped off his knee and slammed her foot up into the underside of his chin. His teeth clacked shut with an audible snap, he stumbled back, stunned. A thrusting sweep with the heel executed to the inside of the knee, and a side thrust kick with full penetration to the floating ribs brought him down onto the ground like a rock as if it were scripted, except there was nothing fake about the low moan of pain Two let out.

Mahiro didn't bother with any fancy grabs or pinning techniques. She simply raised her foot high in the air, and delivered a heavy kick to the back of his head, where the delicate nerve clusters were.

She pulled back at the last second. She didn't want to kill him. Two slumped, a pool of drool gathering beneath his head. Mahiro grabbed him by the back of the shirt, and rolled him onto his back. She raised his eyelids, and checked his pulse, just to make sure he wasn't dead.

"Well then," said Mahiro after she was satisfied. She glared at Anotsu from over her shoulder. "You got any more small fries to serve up on a platter?"

Yoo Joon vibrated like a tuning fork at Anotsu's side. Heat poured off the Korean man like a furnace. Anotsu fought the juvenile instinct to roll his eyes at Yoo Joon's transparent eagerness. "I doubt that you will find this punk here so easy to beat, Hisagi." Anotsu nodded acquiescent to the man, a warning gleaming in his dark eyes.

Yoo Joon smirked.

Mahiro watched the man approach, her body language alert and wary. She'd immediately fallen back into Renoji-Dachi, a fact that did not escape the attention of Park Yoo Joon.

"You're quite the interesting girl, I daresay." He stated while slipping into the fluid, rocking stance of Tae Kwon Do.

"So I've been told." Mahiro replied lazily.

Park Yoo's eyes gleamed beneath the lenses of his glasses. "Even though your Karate is unpolished, and interspersed with freestyle elements, I acknowledge you as a worthy opponent. Because of that, I feel that we ought to have some rules for this bout."

"Um, okay." Mahiro frowned, "What sort of rules?"

Yoo Joon smiled pleasantly, and disregarded the dark looks he was receiving from his Boss. "There are only two rules I feel we must follow, and that is that we cannot step outside of the ring, and if, at any time we are unable to continue, one of us can tap out. Now then," Park Yoo inclined his head in a respectful nod. "I am Park Yoo Joon. I will be your opponent today."

Mahiro sighed with exasperation. She presented herself, and bowed from the waist."Mahiro Hisagi, now can we get on with it already?"

"One moment," Yoo Joon gestured to some of the men, "We must set up the ring first, I daresay."

Mahiro's temple started to throb while scowling Yakuza grunts started to arrange empty cardboard boxes around them and laying down red tape in a makeshift ring. When the last box was situated to Yoo Joon's satisfaction, Mahiro snapped. "All right, are you happy now?"

"Not quite, I daresay." Yoo Joon grinned, and that was Mahiro's only warning before he attacked. His heel cut through the air like a knife, and Mahiro just barely managed to evade it. Park Yoo spun on his heel, rabbit kicking in descending order from head, chest, to belly. Mahiro moved, her hands coming up and parrying away the blows, but she could feel how the force behind the strikes nearly lifted her off her own feet.

Mahiro caught his leg against her side, went low and slammed her shoulder against his pelvis, attempting to knock him off balance, but the fucker was so heavy! Park Yoo's torso telegraphed his move, and Mahiro let go of his leg, to bring up her forearm against the knee strike to her temple.

This blow did knock her back. Several feet. Mahiro went down to her knees, dizzy. She'd managed to block, but it had still rung her bell. There was no time to reflect, he was already attacking.

Low kick to the face, the fucker is trying to knock me out. She thought grimly. Mahiro rolled to avoid the can-can kicks, ending up on her side. She leaped up from the ground. Her hand caught onto the sleeve of his shirt, and Mahiro shifted in midair, bringing her knee against his smug face. Warm flesh met her kneecap, it was his hand.

The bastard, Mahiro grinned. He'd brought up his guard just in time to block.

She landed lightly on the ground, already following up with a vicious back jab to the back of his right knee.

Yoo Joon would of had buckled, but he recovered quickly, turning the weak leg into a spinning back kick that would have taken off her head if Mahiro hadn't laid flat against the ground, and kicked up from her prone position into a handstand. Her sneakered foot caught his jaw in an almost Capoeira fighting move.

Park Yoo Joon aimed his knee at the Mahiro's temple. She brought up her arms to block the attack and stumbled back by the force of the kick, dropping to one knee. Had she been a moment slower, she would've already been knocked out.

Park Yoo Joon, she was slowly being pushed back.

Mahiro did a handstand, her foot catching Yoo Joon's jaw. The Korean caught hold of her foot, and then swung her into stacks of cardboard boxes piled upon each other. She landed with a loud crash.

"Mahiro!" Tsuna yelled, worry evident in his voice. Mahiro jerked in acknowledgement, but she was too busy dodging the rapid fire kicks Yoo Joon was delivering with such crisp expertise.

Hibari bit back a loud snarl. "Idiot herbivore. Don't distract her!"

Tsuna whirled to face him, his brown eyes large and frightened against his pale face. The blood had already started to pool beneath his eyes, giving him the appearance of a raccoon. Black, reddish streaks covered his mouth, and continued to drip down onto his collar. Hibari half expected the timid herbivore to stammer an apology, but instead he just nodded curtly.

"Sorry." Tsuna said evenly. "I'm really and truly sorry for dragging you guys into this. I just want you all to know, that if we get out of this, I'd fully understand if you guys forget about all of this, and pretend you were never involved with the mafia, with me, or Reborn."

Well, Hibari had gotten the apology part of his prediction right but…Hibari felt a vein start to pulse at his temple. Really, the arrogance of this herbivore was just… Damn it, Hibari really needed that thesaurus. "Listen to me herbivore," Hibari said with cold fury. "I am the Tyrant of Namimori. You are not capable of dragging me, period."

As if the herbivore had the power to make Hibari do anything he did not already wish to. The gall of him. Hibari would have to remember to bite him to death after he was finished with that woman.

Meanwhile, Mahiro was trying to remember why she was in a pile of boxes.

A foot tore through the cardboard boxes like they owed Yoo Joon money, and Mahiro rolled out of the way with a startled gasp. Cardboard and duct tape gave way in the path of Mahiro's scrambling. Yoo Joon followed mercilessly, his long legs dominating the distance with rapid kicks and jumps.

Mahiro had never fought anyone like this before. She got the feeling that he was really trying to kill her. How fun. Mahiro scrambled onto her feet, just managing to deflect a ridge-hand away from her temple with the back of her forearm. Yoo Joon pivoted on his heel. He was rearing to strike like an abused draft horse. Mahiro's eyes followed the movement of his torso and dodged the spin kick he aimed for her head by ducking like a mongoose confronted by a cobra strike.

She sprang away from him, her guard up. Yoo Joon paused, his dark eyes gleaming with interest.

"You are talented, I daresay." Yoo Joon panted. Sweat gleamed on both sides of his face, "Not one of my kicks have landed on you as of yet. You seem to be more than familiar with fighting against a Tae Kwon Do practitioner."

Mahiro's face held a gleam of dark humor. "Yes well," She shifted her weight onto her front leg, slowly bringing up her hands parallel against her body. "You get all kinds of types in the capital."

"One would imagine so, I daresay." Yoo Joon agreed. He too, brought up his hands up to his midsection, his legs parallel to his shoulders. "I am going to use the entirety of my strength now." He warned softly.

Hidden away in the corner Tsuna's latent hyper concentration frizzed on and off. If the hyper concentration was like a faulty connection, then right now, it had just flickered on long enough to hear Yoo Joon's warning as if he'd just shouted it from across the room.

"Eeeeehh!?" Tsuna shouted through blood and drool. "You mean that you weren't fighting for real!?"

"Juudaime, please!"Gokudera scolded while pulling the bloody boy back, "Don't push yourself!"

"Gokudera!" Tsuna complained, while he was hauled back as unceremoniously as a wayward kitten.

Yamamoto laughed, but the firm hold he had on Tsuna's shoulders was anything but light. Yamamoto was not going to take another chance with his reckless friend's safety.

"Actually, it was me Tsuna."

Tsuna squinted through his swollen eyes, "Oh, sorry." He said lamely. Tsuna tried to shrug off Yamamoto's grasp, but found that when he did that, his freshly broken arm screamed bloody murder at him. "Oww."

He was scared for Mahiro. He'd never seen Mahiro struggle like this before against an opponent. Wh-What if Mahiro loses? No! Tsuna shook in denial, that won't happen. That definitely won't happen! Because Mahiro, to him, Mahiro... Mahiro was... Unbeatable...!

That's right! He nodded decisively; Mahiro definitely couldn't lose because she was the strongest person he knew besides Hibari. And she'd already proven that she was something even stronger than Hibari!

He believed in her.

Mahiro blew out her breath, feeling the heat rush into her eyes and limbs. He was going to use the entirety of his power? Well, it was about time Mahiro stopped playing as well.

...

Oh, who was she kidding? This guy was going to be tough to beat. Mahiro sniffed dismissively, and brought up her fists. She glanced around her quickly, taking in all the red tape around her. She'd already broken the first barrier, the cardboard boxes, and had been so close to stepping outside of the line. It had been only luck that she'd somehow managed to slow down her descent. Now, if she could only get that guy to step out of the ring.

"Pay attention." The Korean said, throwing a kick for Mahiro's head.

Mahiro brought her arms up to protect herself... and winced when Yoo Joon's leg caught her in the side, sending her flying. The bastard had faked that kick to the head. Mahiro grimaced, her ribs feeling sore. Somewhere off in the room, she could hear Tsuna gasp and bite back a worried yell of her name. She wasn't paying any attention to him though. All of her attention was on the Korean stalking towards her with a predatory smile on his thin lips.

Mahiro pushed herself up on one hand, getting back into stance. Her side was growing numb, but she ignored it. Her welfare meant nothing; what mattered now were Tsuna, Gokudera, Yamamoto, and Hibari.

Well, not Hibari. He could go die for all she cared.

She really wished that she could say that for real…

She'd said before that she wasn't a hero, but here she was now, being the epitome of one. Here she was, saving the damsels in distress from imminent danger, putting her life at stake for them, and fighting for an ideal. Shit, all that was missing was the cape and tights.

"Hiro, listen well, alright? I love you really I do, but all those principles and honorable stuff don't mean shit in a world like this. Those lofty ideals of yours are nothing but ideals. It'll be nice if they could come true but," Anego waved a hand towards the dank and dirty alleyway, cigarette butts, condom wrappers, trash, and broken bottles littering everywhere. Several unconscious and bleeding men lay beaten and broken on the gravel drenched with their blood. "This is reality Hiro, and nothing's gonna' change it anytime soon."

"I'll make it change," a young Mahiro said, hands fisted at her sides."I'll make it change. I won't let my ideals be just that, I'll see them through."

Anego ruffled Mahiro's short hair, grinning. "Well, that's just cute, Hiro. However, things like that are hard to keep in a scum ridden world like this."

Mahiro stumbled back, blocking another of Yoo Joon's powerful kicks. She'd never really liked Tae Kwon Do. It reminded her too much of cock fights with all those flashy kicks. But the power behind the kicks! Man, Mahiro was envious. There was only so much strength that Mahiro had and to be fighting against someone with strong ass kicks was really... Sucky.

"Are you going to just keep staying on the defense? I thought you were more interesting than that." Yoo Joon sighed, not at all letting up with his attacks.

"Well, it's better to defend than rushing at an opponent, don't you think?" Mahiro replied, out of breath. Too many times had she seen some idiot rush at their opponent, not at all trying to evade or defend their attacks at all. IDIOT. She'd always wanted to shout, Why don't you dodge?

"I see. You sure are more competent than many of the other people I've fought, I daresay."

"Huh." Mahiro glanced at the red lines again, gears turning in her mind. The only way for her to win was to knock him out, kill him, or make him step outside of the ring. Killing him was out of the question and knocking him out was too. Her short legs couldn't reach him, and she wasn't fast enough to fake kicks like him. More than likely, he'd just grab onto her ankle again, and then send her crashing over the red lines. So getting him to step out of the ring was her only option.

She'd need to go on the offense for this. Maybe if she had Hibari's stupid tonfas, this would be easier. She glanced over at his direction, only to see him glaring at her with his arms crossed against his chest.

How effeminate of him. Yup, everything would be so much better with his tonfas but knowing him so far, he'd be a bitch about it. It wasn't like having a weapon was going to help her much. She just knew how to handle tonfas a little bit better than that idiot.

Mahiro got back into her Renoji-Dachi stance, hands open instead of fisted. She took a deep breath before exhaling and focused her attention on the man she had to defeat.

"Are you ready to fight for real now, I daresay?" Yoo Joon asked.

Mahiro didn't answer; instead, she lunged at him. She aimed her fist at his abdomen, faking it to go for his knee instead. He saw through it, and kicked her away, but Mahiro was already out of reach.

Mahiro was strong. Of course she was to have won so many street fights, but she was only stronger than most female and males. Her strength was nothing compared to a practiced martial artist like the one before her, strength couldn't help her in this fight, maybe just a little, but not enough to win. Winning was all that mattered here. To win, she would need to rely on her speed. If she couldn't be stronger than Yoo Joon, she'd have to be faster even if it was just a little.

Her breath hissed out from between her pursed lips, she tore across the distance. Ducking and spinning past devastating whip like kicks, her fists like heavy rock assailing his defenses. Yoo Joon was forced finally onto his defensive, her speed and agility requiring the Korean to actually put up a resistance.

What a fantastic little jewel we've found here in the muck. Yoo Joon thought to himself, parrying the lightning fast strikes. Mahiro swore, and she leapt into the air, her wiry arm ramming through an opening in his guard to punch him in the eye.

In that split second, Mahiro felt a leap of hope. Finally! I got him! Beneath her knuckles, she felt his skin giving way. A crack spider webbed across his lenses, and one baleful eye regarded her thoughtfully.

Hm. It seemed to say and then Mahiro was rolling under a vicious leg swing. Yoo Joon switched to his other leg, bouncing lightly on his heels while he advanced.

"You actually landed a hit this time," the Korean commented, his glasses off kilter from Mahiro's punch. "Is that all?" Faster than Mahiro's eyes could follow, he kicked her in the abdomen, sending her flying across the ring.

"MAHIRO!" Tsuna yelled.

Mahiro stuck out a palm to catch herself and get back up. She had landed somewhere a few inches away from the red tape. Mahiro had the wind knocked out of her, she couldn't get up even if she tried, her arms were like jelly, and her core was shaken. She could barely breathe. She choked out a glob of blood, spitting it out on the cement.

She cradled her abdomen, trying to get her breath back so she could get back up and fight again. This wasn't over yet. She could vaguely see Yoo Joon stalk slowly towards her, fixing his glasses, and taking his sweet time getting to her.

"STOP MAHIRO! We'll change places. You don't have to fight anymore, I'll take over for you!" she could hear Tsuna screaming worriedly in the background.

"Juudaime, you can't! You're more injured than she is! I'll take her spot instead! Don't worry!"Gokudera tried to reassure Tsuna.

Mahiro started to giggle. A soft and quiet giggle that quickly escalated to something deranged.

"Are you alright? I didn't kick you too hard, I daresay."

Mahiro held up one finger, convulsing with laughter. "H-hang on...! Tee-hee-hee!"

Tsuna and her switching places? What the hell was this; some kind of fake ass wrestler show? That was the most ridiculous thing she'd heard all day. If anyone was going to have to fight this guy, it'd have to be her. Tsuna, Gokudera, and Yamamoto weren't going to cut it. Neither would Hibari, for that matter. They all seemed to think this was some kind of game, Yamamoto especially. None of them had ever been in a life or death situation such as this, Mahiro could tell as much from the looks on their faces.

Hibari? Well, he was a rock face so how the hell should she know?

It was times like this that Mahiro wondered why she didn't follow Anego's way of dealing with problems.

1. If they annoy you, kill them.

2. If they get in your way, kill them.

3. If you're just bored, kill them.

4. Just kill 'em

Right, because she had principles. There was a reason why she was who she was instead of being a copy of Anego and that was because of her principles and ideals. Fights were all fun and games until someone died. That's when shit hit the fan and things got real.

Well, how real was this for her? Was she going to die yet?

It doesn't hurt.

Mahiro grinned humorlessly.

Mahiro clambered up to her feet shakily, one hand still clutching her abdomen. The pain she felt was nothing compared to Tsuna's. Sure Mahiro had one or two bruised ribs, maybe a couple broken, but she'd become used to pain. Pain was nothing but salt on the meat of life, remember? Tsuna's meat of life was barely salted, he wasn't used to pain.

She remembered the time he'd been tackled by a cute little puppy that had just wanted to play with him. He'd gotten scared and cried like a wuss before his dad and some old dude came outside and picked him up. That was a few days before she'd met him, and at the time, she'd thought, "I'll whack this idiot into shape."

"I'm glad to see that you won't go down that easily." Yoo Joon smiled. He had waited patiently for her to finish having her break down.

Mahiro shrugged, sighing wearily. "Of course. I can't just lose, now can I? There are lives at stake here."

"Impressive, I daresay."

"I daresay you need to stop saying 'I daresay.'"

"It's a habit, I daresay."

Mahiro shrugged again, being way past words at this point. Instead, she bared her teeth like a cornered rat, her eyes gleaming beneath the lights like off a homemade shiv. She put up her hands again, no karate stance now, just plain streetwise protect-my-head muscle memory.

Yoo Joon exploded forward. His legs were like swinging oak trees aiming for her head. Mahiro weaved and ducked, her blood roared in her ears, her small scarred fists rap-tap-tapping here and there, trying to find an opening in the flurry of kicks Yoo Joon was throwing like there was no tomorrow.

Yoo Joon spun and Mahiro narrowly avoided the spin kick, darting around him to strike his back. She was met with a back kick that exploded against her guard, and threatened to shatter her forearms. Mahiro spun with the force of the blow, a part of her acknowledging the pain, the rest of her descending with the spin. She aimed for the back of his knee, realizing that a Tae Kwon Do practitioner's greatest strength and weakness was in their legs.

Mahiro didn't realize it, but what she'd just used in that instant was a textbook perfect, Hapkido low spinning sweep kick. And it connected with devastatingly bone jarring impact.

Yoo Joon was swept onto his side like a felled log, falling over Mahiro's hip like a drunk. Mahiro decided to help him on his way. She grabbed one of the arms the Korean man had thrown out on instinct to break his fall, and in a smooth circular movement, twisted him into a sprawling pretzel of pain. She kept control of his wrist, while her other hand grabbed the collar of his shirt, and tossed him over her hip again.

This time the Korean man was ready for her, and landed in a crouch. He reeled her in with his powerful arms, pinning her hand to his wrist with his other. Mahiro grinned. Jerking back with all her strength, she used the energy raised from that motion to jump in the air and kick him in the chest, breaking his grip on her. She landed lightly on her feet, but couldn't block against the lightning fast kick to her side.

Mahiro felt her rib bend, and then snap beneath the force of the blow. Mahiro gritted her teeth and rode out the pain, her own slim leg whipping up and out against the side of his thigh. She blocked the fist aimed for the side of her face with the back of her forearm, her sneakers squeaking against the concrete floor while Yoo Joon pushed her back with his punishing kicks and punches. Mahiro landed an open handed blow against Yoo Joon's throat, but she'd been too far to put enough force to make it count.

No, that wasn't it, Mahiro realized. She just wasn't strong enough to beat him in a contest of brawn.

Yoo Joon hissed in pain, his lips were twisted into a fierce grimace but the fierce joy in his face was a powerful and shining light. A powerful leg was already spinning through the air to club her across the face. The bright, hot flash of pain preceded the warm gush of blood down her upper lip.

Her side hurt like a motherfucker, and her fists, calloused and hard though they may be, was nowhere near the size of Yoo Joon's own kissers. Energy seemed to drain away from her limbs, exhaustion spreading through her body.

She'd fought longer fights than this before. It had only been what, six minutes since they had started? She'd been in fights that lasted about two hours or more. Against Yoo Joon, the stamina that she was so proud of was nothing. She was getting demolished here, and it was only a matter of time before her strength gave out.

No, I can still do this. There was no question about it. Mahiro had to win. She steeled herself for his next kick. She had to get the timing right. She had to counter his attacks. She had to be faster than him. If she could only see his attacks, maybe she'd be able to defeat him.

Mahiro forced her body to move and dodge Yoo Joon's fist aimed at her cracked ribs. She spun to avoid it and threw a wild kick. She was too slow. As she brought her leg up, Yoo Joon had just as quickly brought his own up, harshly kicking her in her abdomen.

"MAHIRO!" Tsuna screamed. The hit that Mahiro took had sounded incredibly loud. While Tsuna watched worriedly, she tried to sit back up, her arms giving out beneath her each time she tried. She coughed out a spurt of blood, loud and hacking. "Mahiro! Mahiro!" he cried, struggling against Yamamoto's and Gokudera's hold on him. He couldn't just watch as his friend was getting pummeled!

"Let go of me!" Tsuna roared, elbowing Gokudera in the chest.

Gokudera gritted his teeth and held on tight. When had his Juudaime become so strong? Gokudera pressed his mouth against his Boss's ear, and hissed frantically. "Stop Juudaime. You musn't interfere, that stupid woman is doing this for you..!"

Tsuna screamed and shoved Gokudera away from him. Only to have Yamamoto put him into a headlock, and force him onto his knees with a grunt. Gokudera knelt down. Disregarding Tsuna's frantically flailing arms, Gokudera grabbed Tsuna's face with both hands and started to squeeze.

"Boss, Boss!" The gray haired teenager said. But his words fell on deaf ears. Tsuna's conscience was screaming louder than Gokudera could ever shout in his face.

He was a horrible friend. He couldn't even do a simple thing as not cower behind her or someone else when things got bad. Mahiro was only human! Who was he to throw expectations upon her? Mahiro couldn't win every fight! She could only do so much. He was too dependent on her, always believing that she would save him in the end just like she always did when they were kids. And she was. Even after he had betrayed her beliefs and disappointed her, she'd still come.

And the self-recriminations went on and on, as did the helpless tears streaming down his face.

Tsuna choked on his tears, his frail body jerking with each brutal sob. "Mahiro-o-o!" He howled.

Black spots swarmed Mahiro's vision. The pain reverberating through her body was so painful. Every shaky breath she took in sent a shock of pain through her abdomen.

"I applaud you for being able to last this long against me, Hisagi-chan." Mahiro couldn't make out his face but she could hear his footsteps come closer to her. "It's a shame; we'll have to dispose of you. You along with tonfa boy would have made great additions to our forces, I daresay."

Mahiro would've given a sardonic reply if she hadn't felt so much like shit. All she could taste was the coppery taste of blood and some bile that had come up.

This is it, isn't it? Tsuna and the others... We'll all die here, won't we? A small voice from inside of Mahiro said. It was the part of her that had accepted defeat. All that talk, and yet no walk, it whispered vindictively. Always the overconfident girl, now she was at the end of her rope.

God, it was annoying.

Shut up. It's not over yet. Mahiro gritted her teeth, unable to accept her fate. There was no way that she was going to give up. She'd fight until the end, so that she wouldn't have any regrets. She would fight even when her body becomes useless and broken, she'll keep on fighting no matter what. She couldn't lose now. Everything had fallen into place, even though it hadn't gone according to plan. She only needed to hold out just a bit more, just a bit and then game over.

"And now for the finishing move," Yoo Joon said with a sigh, bringing up his leg into the air, ready to deliver the decisive move. He stood over Mahiro who was currently resting on one knee, head tilted up towards him. He grinned at the sight that he saw. "It's really such a shame. I like that look in your eyes, but there's no way you're making it out of here alive."

Mahiro grabbed at her side. She felt the pain, she acknowledged it, became it, and then dismissed it.

"Move with the blow, Mahiro." Her dad said with a guiding hand on her hip. "The next time that kid comes after you don't try and withstand the hit."

He turned her gently; one firm hand on her shoulder pressing her down, while one bare foot nudged her foot into the correct stance. "Don't go for the throat yet, see his move in your mind's eye. Don't explode with power, Mahiro, Scorra come acqua. Flow like a river."

He brought his leg straight down over Mahiro's head, like a heavy hammer...

"Aikido is a defensive martial art. However, it's a martial art that women and girls most excel at because of its techniques."

Mahiro, at ten years old with a black eye, grimaced. "Mou~ Dad, that's fine and all, but I don't think any fancy smancy-"

Her father backhanded her, but it passed harmlessly over her head as Mahiro dropped to her knees and squealed. She kicked out, "Wh-what are you doing, Dad?"

"Like that, Mahiro, exactly like that. Speed baby, that's the power of Aikido. Oh, and the techniques of course."

"What are you talking about dad?" Mahiro scowled, throwing a punch at her dad's midsection. Her father moved swiftly to the side and caught her wrist. He bent his youngest daughter's arm until she laid flat against the ground.

"Fists are strong Mahiro," Raizo gently pried open her fist, and splayed out her fingers individually.

"But sometimes what you finish a fight with isn't one of these, but with the open hand of friendship."Raizo was a tall, broad shouldered man with thin hips and an enchanting smile. His hands were hard and calloused, working man hands. He held them out to his youngest, lines of laughter creasing his face.

Mahiro watched the leg descend, all the strength leeching away from her body. Almost dreamlike, she pivoted on her heels so his leg passed harmlessly down her front. Yoo Joon smiled delightedly, and threw a hard jab at her bloody and dazed face.

This was the end of the fight already.

Mahiro, at the core of her consciousness, opened her eyes.

"I win." she said softly, and her hands, no longer hard fists, caught Yoo Joon's punch at the wrist. She used Yoo Joon's own momentum against him, and in the smooth circular movements of Aikido, swung him down, and onto his face.

...And over the red line. Surprise registered on Yoo Joon's face right before he laughed.

Mahiro's grip tightened. A very large part of her wanted to break his arm. If there was anything she'd learned during her misspent adolescence on the wild streets of Tokyo, it was that once you'd downed an opponent, you made sure he stayed the fuck down. However, even though it was a little crazy, Mahiro couldn't help but give her dad some credit.

Mahiro let go of her hold on Yoo Joon's arm, despite the fact that from this angle; she was in prime position to tear all those soft and tender ligaments... Yeah… She chuckled, and moved off of the grown man.

Open hand of friendship, huh?

"M-Mahiro," she heard Tsuna say almost so quietly, she could barely hear it. "You did it!"

"Y-y-you actually did it, you stupid woman!" exclaimed Gokudera.

She felt a cold and hard object dig into her side uncomfortably. Mahiro tried to stand up, but her legs were like jelly and she fell back down as if she was a newborn fawn learning to stand.

She tried once more and finally steadied herself enough to stand up straight. Her eyes met Takatori's dark gaze, a triumphant smile on her face. "I win, Taka-tan. This means we all get to go home. You promised on Anego's scar."

Takatori was awfully calm. Having a gun pointed at his head and a young little twerp defeating his right hand man was sure to put any hardened boss in a state of fright.

Takatori smirked, because he was a boss who had the gun.

"Who's to say that I meant what I said?" He lifted the rifle he'd had aimed at Tsuna's head. "We Yakuza are nothing but trash, the same as those stupid mafia wannabes you're siding with. We don't have any sense of honor. You were an idiot to have trusted my words from the beginning, Hisagi Mahiro."

Mahiro grimaced. "As if I didn't see that coming." The gun had been cold and heavy against the small of her back but now it was warm and familiar in her hands. She held it level in front of her, her eyes gleaming with determination, legs braced wide apart just like her brother Masahiro had taught her.

Takatori lifted an eyebrow and noted dryly. "How interesting, now we both have guns."

"I live to entertain," Mahiro replied equally dryly. Then there was the soft click of the safety catch being switched off. "I told you I was tired of this game, Taka-tan."

Anotsu rolled his eyes. "I think you are forgetting something rather important. You and I not the only ones with guns, you little fool." The yakuza underlings whom had been content to watch the drama unfold before now, all leveled their weapons at the fourteen year old girl standing in the center of the room. "Don't shoot just yet, men." Anotsu ordered, his attention never straying from the girls face. "Before this day is done, girl, I will see you on your knees before me in death or surrender, Hisagi."

Mahiro felt a cold drop of sweat roll down the back of her neck. But she smiled really pleasantly. "I really don't give a fuck, Taka-tan. You're letting us all go."

The glock was pointed at Takatori some five yards away. "I doubt you'll be able to hit anything from there. Besides, you don't have the guts." Takatori grinned wolfishly.

A bullet pierced his shoulder, causing Anotsu to drop his gun. He gritted his teeth. The fucker who shot him was so going to get grounded up into fishcakes. He whipped around, a snarl tearing viciously from him. "I told you fuck heads not to shoot!"

"ANOTSU, I'LL KILL YOU!" A fat pig squealed bearing two guns aimed at Takatori.

Before he could shoot off another bullet, one of the guns was shot out of his hands. The fat pig, Honda Isao, spun around to spot the one who had shot him, beady eyes filled with rage and hate. "You fucking little bitch! I'm surprised you're not dead yet!"

Mahiro shot him again. She ignored his squeals. It wasn't hard. Tsuna could out squeal the average Yamamoto/Gokudera Fan-girls any day of the week.

Takatori glared at her. She reminded him too much of that woman. Anego, she was called. There was nothing at all sisterly about that punk several years his junior. That woman had had everything that Takatori had wanted, and she'd flaunt it in his face, taunting him. In every single thing, she was better than him. He really hated her, and yet he respected her and her fucked up personality.

"Shut up, brat. You don't know anything. Just keep quiet and you might get to leave this place alive."

"Blah, like I'm so scared," Mahiro taunted.

"STOP IGNORING ME!"

In unison, both of them replied, "Shut it, you fat pig!"

"DON'T YOU-!"

"Please shut up, I daresay." said Yoo Joon, right before he kicked him in the head.

Somehow, this supposed kidnap and battle to the death became a reunion? Mahiro and Takatori were bantering now? What the hell just happened?

"You know what? I'll just kill you. You're exactly as that woman, and I'd hate to see what kind of crazy shit you'll do when you reach her age. Both of you are monsters, not giving a fuck for anything and always on a path of destruction."

Mahiro glared. You're wrong, Taka-tan. She wanted to say, Anego and I are two different people. Unlike Anego, I'm not going to do that. Anego's Anego. I'm me.

Instead, she settled for an always classic retort.

"Aw, fuck off." She sneered. "Last time I checked, my birth certificate said Hisagi Mahiro, motherfucker."

Takatori just yawned. "Indeed? From what I've seen so far, you're on the same path as her. Following her footsteps aren't you? Instead of being involved with the Yakuza however, you're involved with the Italian mafia."

"Shut up." Mahiro growled. She loved her Anego, even after the things she'd done, but that didn't necessarily mean that she wanted to become like her.

"What exactly makes you different from her?"

"I..."

"You said that you won't become another Anego? Then why don't you just die here before you get in too deep with the underworld. It's not all fun and games like your merry band of idiots think it is."

Reborn was intrigued by their conversation and more than a little miffed that he'd been all but forgotten in the earlier gun stand-off. He'd been right behind that Anotsu damn it! This was ridiculous! Reborn could not wait until he regained his true form; no one took a baby with a gun seriously. And Reborn, despite his threats to all and sundry, did not want to kill anyone just to make a point. When he had arrived in Namimori-chu, he'd assumed that he would be dealing with children and the occasional small town bully, nothing really dangerous from the real world; The adult world.

But it was beginning to look like Namimori-Chu held more secrets than he had thought. This Anego for example, who was she? She seemed to be someone of importance to them, the connection between the two. First Cassowary, and now another dangerous person. Mahiro was just too conveniently surrounded by dangerous people. A shame that there was nothing more he could dig up about her.

Or was there?

His gaze flicked over to the middle schoolers. Tsuna had long reverted back to his original dame state, watching worriedly as Mahiro and Takatori conversed, while Yamamoto and Gokudera assured him that everything would turn out fine. Hibari, Hibari however was silent, keeping his eyes on the so called herbivore that had defeated him some days back.

Reborn smiled inwardly. Mahiro was more useful than he had originally thought her to be. Not only was she street smart and the key to Tsuna's strength, but she'd also happened to capture Hibari's interest. Keep her close, and they'll be able to keep Hibari close. Reborn didn't doubt that Hibari would keep trying to fight her again. Indeed, that harrowing battle between the Korean man and Mahiro only sparked his interest. Here was a person who would give Hibari a challenge.

Takatori shifted forward, walking towards the battered and beat girl. Reborn made no move to stop him, wanting to see what would ensue between the two acquaintances. He did however, keep Leon pointed on the back of the head of Takatori.

"You want to prove that you're not at all like that woman? Well, how about you defeat me? Go ahead and use that gun," proposed Takatori.

Mahiro tired as she was; accepted. "Aw, why the fuck not," She snorted, hawked, and spat. Mahiro glared up from beneath her sweaty bangs, a humorless grin on her face as she continued. "Yeah, I'll defeat you and show you that I'm not the second coming of Anego. The world only needs one in this world, and I don't think I'm suited for that role."

"Huh. Come at me then," said Takatori, getting into fighting stance.

Much to everyone's surprise, Mahiro tossed the gun aside and took on her own stance. "I don't need this," was all she said to the surprised faces.

"MAHIRO! STOP! YOU'RE ALREADY HURT BAD ENOUGH! STOP! YOU MIGHT REALLY DIE THIS TIME!" Tsuna screamed.

Mahiro dug her ear. "Tsuna, shut up. Do you really have so little faith in me?"

"I... No.. Mahiro... But you're hurt!" he replied.

Mahiro smiled wanly, "Pain is nothing but salt on the meat of life, bro."

"I... That doesn't make sense!"

"It makes perfect sense, you idiot boy." Anotsu sneered. "Your meat is blander than British cuisine."

Somewhere, far away in the Hetalia universe, England wept over his dinner casserole.

Tsuna frowned, his large brown eyes glittering in his pale face. "Y-you don't know anything! Shut it!" The full grown man, with the wickedly curving scar on his cheek snarled at him, and Tsuna stuttered like a gibbet. "P-please?" He amended.

Anotsu stretched, all of his sinewy muscles rippling beneath his coat. His dark, vicious laughter rang in the silence of the warehouse. He shook off his coat, revealing the dark blood staining his shoulder. "Your friend over there is an idiot." Anotsu jerked his head towards Tsuna, "Now, are you sure that you don't want me to...?"

Mahiro rolled her eyes. "As appealing as that sounds..."

"Mahiro!"

"That would defeat the entire purpose of me coming here." Mahiro finished smoothly.

Anotsu grinned.

Mahiro grinned.

Then they exploded towards each other.

Anotsu raced towards Mahiro, but really, in his mind's eye... Anotsu dreamed.

He dreamed of a woman with eyes like steel. He dreamed of flames; of pain that sliced through his face, and of laughter that mocked. He dreamed of her. Her beauty was as that of a weapon, her grace like that of a garrote wire, her smiles are like daggers.

"Geez, how long will you chase after my shadow, Taka-tan?"

He imagined that he could hear her now, her silvery dulcet voice echoing forever in his ears, along with her laughter. He sees himself, as a rash Yankee scowling up at her with his face filleted like tuna. Glaring up, always up at the woman-child known as Sarabuki Ai. And yet she wasn't just a woman, what she was transcended gender.

"Oi, you" Ai wiped her blade on his shirt. "This is it, you know?"

"You bitch!" Anotsu spat, kicking her off him. Warm blood dripped from his face and hand as he tottered to his feet. His other dangled uselessly at his side, broken.

"That's Anego to you, boy." Ai's eyes were jet black, and seemingly hollow beneath her arched eyebrows. Her cheekbones were high and sculpted her nose wide and flat like a leopard, and her lips were plush slashes of red against her pale yellow skin. She was beautiful like the last gush of blood in a beating heart. Beautiful as the pattern of scars on his back...

So beautiful.

So horrible.

Anotsu knew as she stared at him with those empty dark eyes, that he would die. That was... Fine. So long as he took her with him too. Beaten, cut up into shit like he was, Anotsu at nineteen took away the hand holding together his face, and balled it into a fist.

"Those guys..." Anotsu laughed roughly, fear simmering in his muscles like a hot pot. "Just what were they thinking when they killed your father? They woke up a fucking monster."

"Ara?" Ai tossed back her thick, dark hair. Teeth, yellowed like a tiger's fangs gleamed in the light. "A Monster? You'll hurt my feelings, boy." And then she had moved, like liquid darkness with her blade flashing in the fading light.

Enter now, Anotsu sees Mahiro's face, but he doesn't really see her. Anotsu punched from the waist, intending to induce some critical head trauma. His eyes were wild with memories; all he really sees is her.

All he really sees is that woman, laughing in the twilight.

Mahiro, in her long history on the streets, knew that there was no way in hell she was winning this one. He was fresh, for one. He hadn't been running around like an idiot for another, and he hadn't spent the last twenty or so minutes getting pounded by a crazy Korean kick boxer.

She'd need some kind of fucking miracle to beat - oh, hey, was that a gun behind Anotsu..?

Ishida Taro, right hand man of the previous Aniki (Mishima Jiro), had had enough of this new Aniki. Less than a month ago, after Mishima had foolishly lost to those kids, no, even before that; Ishida had been planning on discarding his pledge to that weak fool and taking the group himself. Mishima's defeat simply... sped up his plans a bit.

But then that opportunistic Anotsu had appeared, and like the rabid stray he was, he'd snatched Ishida's chance right from under his nose! After years of scraping, and bowing to the useless old fool, all the while compiling allies among the younger generation of recruits, all that work and energy! Wasted! In one fell swoop, that Tokyo stray had destroyed his plans to becoming the next boss of the Momokyokai!

But after seeing what this new boss looked like, he'd bade his time, waiting for a chance to dethrone the motherfucker, knowing that this was no clueless Jiro to trick or to challenge head on. He'd told himself to be patient, believing that it could, and probably would take years before he'd proved his loyalty and usefulness enough to move about unnoticed.

He hadn't thought that Anotsu, that vicious dog from Tokyo would make a mistake so fast, so soon. And with the very same kids that he'd cast Mishima out for failing to defeat. Oh, the irony. Even if Anotsu survived the bullet Ishida was aiming at his spine, there was no way his reputation would. The ties with the Yamaguchi-gumi that Anotsu was always silently lording over them with would terminate a useless fool like that themselves. And they would probably reward whoever did kill him.

Ishida Taro, boss of the Momokyokai.

Oh, he liked the sound of that. He pulled out his gun, and pulled the trigger.

Shit! It was a gun! Mahiro hissed through her teeth, intercepted the punch with the back of her elbow, turning it aside and then grabbed his wrist with her other hand. She dropped her center of gravity, and with every last muscle in her body, flipped Anotsu over her hip.

The sound of both their bodies hitting the floor disguised the sound of the gunshot. But nothing could disguise the blood spilling out of her shoulder.

Anotsu pulled her down beneath him; his smile was fearsome in his face. "You fool; you don't get into a grappling fight with me-"

Mahiro groaned, her eyes flashing in her drawn and strained face. "Gun you idiot!"

Anotsu frowned, and pulled his hand away from her shoulder. Thick, crimson blood stained his hand and the cuff of his shirt. "You're bleeding..." He remarked.

"Uh, no shit? What gave you that bright idea you shit-tard!?"

Yoo Joon kicked the gun out of Ishida's hands. And the other yakuza little guys swarmed the traitor.

Tsuna and the rest of his friends were racing across the distance, with Tsuna in the lead. "Mahiro!"He yelled, "Mahiro!" He reached her side, tears overflowing from his large eyes and washing the blood down his cheeks to mingle with hers.

Anotsu stared down at the bleeding out girl with an incredulous look on his handsome, scarred face. He placed his hand back over her wound, and clamped down with his hand despite the pain in his shoulder. He could feel his own shoulder wound trickling blood down his arm, to mingle with hers.

Mahiro hissed in pain, but her tired dark eyes never left Anotsu's incredulous expression. "That hurts." She said stiffly, ignoring how Tsuna was going into hysterics at her side.

"I'm stopping the bleeding by applying pressure, you little idiot."

"Don't call me an idiot, idiot. And Tsuna, shut up. It's just a flesh wound, the bullet went right through."

Anotsu checked. "No. It didn't." Anotsu calmly pressed his finger into the hole, and wriggled it around.

Mahiro screamed, her face turning white with pain. She writhed underneath Anotsu's hand, yelling blistering expletives that turned the air blue.

"See, it's in there all right. Not all that deep either." Anotsu nodded absently. "I could probably pop it out with a knife, but this will do. And don't worry; despite the blood on my hands as a gangster, I am scrupulous about cleaning underneath my fingernails..."

"You crazy fucking bastard!" Mahiro shrieked, "That's my fucking shoulder you're finger raping there you vicious man slut!"

Anotsu kept up the pressure, casually backhanding Tsuna who had been trying to pull him off of Mahiro with a mixture of sobbing threats and one flailing arm. "Ah, my apologies," he said absently. "I think I'm in shock, you see. I was all set to break your neck because I was having a flash back of Anego carving up my face like a steak, but then you had to ah...! I've got it."

A bloody, misshapen metal slug popped out of the neat hole in her flesh like the world's ugliest blackhead. Right about the same time, Hibari's tonfa slammed into the back of Anotsu's head. Or it would have if Mahiro hadn't kicked up at the exact moment, and diverted the skull fracturing blow with the heel of her shoe.

"Damn it, Hibari." Mahiro complained furiously. "You are not making it any easier for me to save your neck here."

Hibari was undeterred, winding up for another blow. His dark eyes were wild with rage. "Herbivore, don't get in my way." He growled.

Anotsu grabbed Gokudera's hands, smacked him across the face when he wouldn't stop gibbering that he had no idea what to do, and forced his hands down on Mahiro's shoulder. Then Anotsu stood up, and with one hand, grabbed Hibari by the face and slammed him into his knee. "It's cute how you pick now to grow a pair kid," Said Anotsu with an emotionless face. "But the next time you come at me from behind, I'll cut you a new anus you hear?"

Hibari wobbled a bit, but despite the blood streaming down the front of his face, he charged again. "Stay away from her, you Yakuza scum!" Hibari snarled. "She is... My prey!"

Almost lazily, Anotsu stepped back to avoid the jab towards his chin and left just enough room for Yoo Joon's high kick to connect with Hibari's face. Hibari crumpled, catching himself on one knee, and staying there. Yoo Joon smiled and grabbed Hibari's head from behind.

"Your orders, Aniki?" He asked pleasantly. Yamamoto came charging at his back, and Yoo Joon mule kicked him in the belly, sending the baseball player flying a solid three feet away from him coughing.

Tsuna struggled to his feet, flames blazing in his eyes. "Let go of him!" He shrieked. "Let go of him! Please!"

Gokudera panted at Mahiro's side, her dark red blood spilling over his hands in a horrifying river of crimson while she steadily cussed the air blue at the turn of events. Hibari's face was slowly turning red from lack of oxygen, Reborn still had Leon pointed at Anotsu, but Tsuna could see shadows creeping behind the hit man toddler. There was no one left to help them. No one.

Tsuna sobbed, his face streaked with tears and blood. He wanted to fall back down onto his knees. He wanted for Mahiro to stop bleeding. He wanted for everything to be different. And that Anotsu guy... That Anotsu guy just watched him impassively with flecks of Mahiro's blood still dotting his cheek. He'd been shocked that Mahiro had done what she did. But that hadn't really changed anything, had it? Anotsu still wanted to kill them, to rid himself of his competitors. But Mahiro, Yamamoto, Gokudera, Reborn, and even Hibari weren't competitors; they were just his friends who stuck up for him even against guys like these.

I don't want them to die like this.

"P-Please..." Tsuna wailed through gritted teeth. "Please don't kill t-them."

Heat grew in his palms, Tsuna bowed his head. He felt his tears sting his cheeks. He really was going to die today. No one could save him from his own stupidity this time. He was going to die.

Heat bloomed inside of him, and lightning shot up into his spine. Tsuna gasped, tears flowing down his face unceasingly as he felt the warmth spread throughout his body. W-what was this? A horrible thought occurred to him, and he checked the front of his pants. H-he hadn't... Wet himself had he?

I don't know. Kansai Voice grumbled drowsily, you tell me. I'll tell you one thing though, it ain't the Dying Will Flames I'm used to.

Then... What was it?

Anotsu stared at the crying young boy, and felt... Tired. Not of being the bad guy, no, never that, but of just this entire scene in general. He didn't know why he felt this way. After all, he'd faced tableaus like this countless times before. Always there was sobbing, gunshots, begging for their worthless lives, and of course blood. Countless, and countless buckets of blood.

Her blood still stained his hands. And from here, he could see that the bleeding wasn't stopping, no matter how hard the gray haired kid pressed down on the wound. The bullet must of had severed a small artery. Anotsu gestured to Yoo Joon and without a word; his right hand man released the red faced, choking boy.

"Phone."

Yoo Joon handed over his cell phone. Anotsu did not hesitate. He dialed 119 for an ambulance. "Hello, there's a girl here with a gunsh-"

A sneaker flew across the short distance, and smacked him in the face. Anotsu paused, and turned his attention to the pale faced, blood depleted fourteen year old girl, who was currently sitting up on her own and despite the weakness of her voice, her eyes spat daggers at him.

"No." She enunciated slowly, "No hospitals."

Anotsu ignored the fluffy headed boy dashing past him to collapse at her side with a joyful wail.

He watched her. Her face was pale, her lips white with pain, her frazzled braids hanging limply over her shoulder. But her eyes burned. Anotsu felt like he was staring at the shade of Ai. But Ai, no, that woman had never shown so much life in her expression as this girl.

Always, even as children she'd set herself apart from him, from the world. All the games she'd played with him, the ones which would leave him spent and bleeding and screaming with frustration. Even then she was never really there. Her eyes were always cold, empty, and so lonely Anotsu could never hope to stop chasing after her.

Even now, with this shade, this pale imitation of Ai glaring up at him, Anotsu felt that tug again.

"Sir, please repeat your emergenc-"

And around and around I go. Anotsu thought to himself and he terminated the call.

Anotsu walked over to the girl, actively hating, seething at the feeling that something was changing. That something was forged with each step, with each throb of pain in their wounds that mirrored each other's, and the answering drip drop of their blood flowing from their bodies.

The girl, Mahiro glared up at him. Anotsu glared back. "Is there a reason why you want to bleed out in an abandoned warehouse, girl?" Anotsu asked, with only a hint of derision in his expression.

She snarled weakly at him, her teeth clenched tightly behind her whitening lips. She was really losing more blood then she ought to. And Anotsu, despite his decision to kill her along with the rest of those enterprising young upstarts she hung out with, realized that he wished that things could be different. Anotsu slid his hand into his pocket. Long, lean fingers closed around the hilt of his blade.

She should of had let him call the ambulance.

"Unless you want the Hisagi family out in full force," She said slowly, blood loss already starting to affect her consciousness. "You better fucking believe that you ought to call your fucking private doctors. And that is not my shoulder you fucking terrorist!"

Gokudera jerked back with embarrassment staining his cheeks red. "S-Sorry."

Tsuna wailed, and closed his hands over the shoulder wound. "D-d-don't die M-Mahiro-o-o-o!"

Anotsu stared down at her. His hand tightened around the knife. Now, do it now. Anotsu knelt, and brought his head in close. So close, the coppery scent of her blood rose up between them like perfume. Mahiro glared up at him. She had no idea, she couldn't. He could kill her now.

Do it!

And then Reborn was heard to heave a big, relieved sigh. "About time, Dino."

"The Chiavarone family is here!" Dino slammed open the door with his whip, and a dozen of his men filed in through the large shipping doors.

Anotsu raised an eyebrow. He noted how disregarding the idiot with the whip, his men carried perfectly functional guns. His grip around the hilt of the blade in his pocket loosened, and then dropped the blade like it was a hot coal.

Well, fuck. He thought with only a bit of disappointment, and here he had martial-ed all of his men into this warehouse like sitting ducks with him in the middle. Well, it seems that he had no choice after all.

Anotsu raised his arms up. "We give up." He said blandly, "Go on and take back your idiots. They're giving me a fucking headache."

Dino blinked, and then proved to Anotsu that he might not be a complete retard for bringing a whip to a gunfight after all. "Um, I'd feel better about that surrender if you get your men to lay their guns down..." He said carefully.

Anotsu motioned with his finger, and every one of his men laid down their weapons. "You've my full approval to shoot any of the runners by the way." Anotsu added, and there were three loud pops when three Ishida sympathizers raised their guns instead. They fell to the ground dead.

"Lovely," Anotsu grinned.

"I'm bleeding over here!"

"Mahiro..!" Tsuna sobbed, clamping his hands on her shoulder.

"Shut it, Tsuna," she gritted out.

Dino paled at the sight of all the blood and then motioned to Romario. "Ah, call Doctor Shamal. It'd be bad if we take her to the hospital with a bullet wound."

Romario nodded. But then he hesitated, "We don't have the best relationship with him."

"Ah, it's fine." Said Dino with a careless wave of his whip. "I know that he hates us guys, but Mahiro's a girl, so he'll do it."

"Eeh?" Tsuna sobbed through his tears. "D-Doctor Sh-Shamal? He's coming? Mahiro! Did you hear that? You'll be okay!"

Tsuna shook her thoughtlessly, having forgotten that his hands were still pressed tightly and painfully against her shoulder. Mahiro roared in pain, clubbing Tsuna over the head with her fist. "You idiot!"

"S-sorry." Tsuna sniffed. "I-I'm SO-ORR-YYY!" Tsuna wailed.

"Oh, for god's sake!" Mahiro gritted out from between bloodless lips. "Did anyone call Dr. CAMEL yet?"

"Oi, stupid woman." interrupted Gokudera. He kept rubbing his hands on his shirt, leaving bloody tracks down his front. "It's Shamal. SHAMAL."

Mahiro glared up at him from her back. Weakly she held up... Her middle finger.

"Ahahaha." Coughed Yamamoto. He had finally gotten back up to his feet with a thin line of red down his chin.

Tsuna sweat dropped. Gokudera looked like he wanted to strangle Mahiro! "Mou, Mahiro." Tsuna moaned, still applying pressure to her shoulder. "Please don't pick fights while you're injured!"

"Um," Dino said helpfully. "Dr. Shamal is on his way, so just sit tight, okay Mahiro?"

"He was being... an insensitive... Douche... bag." Mahiro said defensively. She was going into shock.

Gokudera exploded, and the potty mouthed delinquent he had first been introduced as made reappearance. "At least I'm not a crazy bi-" He choked on the word, and slapped at his neck. A mosquito slipped out from between his fingers.

A look of anger darkened his face, when he realized that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't talk.

"Maa, maa." A tall, long legged, shaggy haired Italian man slipped out from the shadows. It was none other, than Dr. Shamal. "You shouldn't call such a sweet young girl names, Gokudera-kun. It's unbefitting of a gentleman."

He knelt at her side, reaching into his old fashioned, black satchel. "Hello, young miss. And what is your name?"

"..." Mahiro said grimly, as she blacked out.

Shamal slapped away Tsuna's hands, and cut the bloody fabric from the wound to get a better look at it. He whistled, and started pulling out drugs. "I do like pragmatic girls." He said absently. He cleaned the area with Betadine, and then pulled out the morphine. "Now, this might sting..."

He injected her with anesthetic, all around her shoulder. Then he sewed her up, right there on the floor of a dirty warehouse. She'd already refused going to the hospital and they couldn't just move her to the Chiavarone's temporary residence, where their doctors and nurses were. That would take too much time. A person with a gunshot wound was supposed to get treatment within ten minutes of the shot. But of course he would know that, he was a doctor.

Anotsu stayed long enough to make sure that the idiot girl wasn't going to up and die on him, and then he nodded to Yoo Joon.

He and his men were done here.

"W-wait!"

"Shut it dame-Tsuna." Reborn snapped squeakily, pistol whipping him with Leon. Or at least, he'd intended to. Tsuna caught Leon with his good hand. His attention was focused completely on Anotsu. Fission of surprise went through him, both at the quicksilver action, and the heat he could feel pouring off and out of Tsuna.

There was none of the visible flames of the Dying Will state, but the heat was like a sauna, no, more of a massive bonfire. Untamed, unfocused, it was causing even Leon to be uncomfortable. But just as quickly as Tsuna had caught Leon, he let him go, and Reborn watched with an unsettled feeling in his gut as Tsuna strode past him and towards the Momokyokai's Aniki.

His thin, girlish shoulders were squared. His back was ram-rod straight despite the pain sure to be coursing through his brutalized body.

His next words were shockingly clear, and were also very shockingly un-Tsuna.

"You…" Tsuna used the very impolite version, omae. He said it low, and full of throttled anger. "Show me what you were holding, Anotsu-san."

Anotsu stopped. His right hand man, Yoo Joon was the one who bothered turning. The look of cold disdain on his face made Reborn tighten his grasp on Leon. When Yoo Joon made to start towards Tsuna for his rudeness towards his Aniki, Reborn was ready to kill.

And then Anotsu held up a knife over his shoulder. Almost as an afterthought, Anotsu threw it fast towards Tsuna. Yoo Joon stopped, with a sneer on his face.

Reborn reacted instinctively, but it was Tsuna's hand that which plucked it out of the air as easily as a paper airplane.

Reborn stared hard at his ward, with one word screaming in his mind in bright neon lights.

Hyper-intuition!

"You were going to kill her with this." Tsuna said, still in that same low voice.

Reborn swung his attention back to the Momokyokai's Aniki. And he was shaking with silent laughter while he continued to walk away. Like a dog being called to heel, his right hand man followed, shooting Tsuna a look so cold it could have had shattered steel.

"Make sure she gets that, boy." Anotsu called over his shoulder.

Tsuna's brown eyes were so light with rage, they looked nearly amber. "This is not over, A-Anotsu!" He spat, as enraged as a soaked cat, and about as intimidating as well. But still, Gokudera, Yamamoto, and to a lesser extent, Hibari gathered at his back.

Anotsu laughter was dark and raspy. "It sure ain't boy." They passed out of the doors, the last of Anotsu retreating words trailed behind him like a heinous stench to Reborn's senses. "It sure ain't."

In mid surgery, a pretty surgeon with her long dark hair clipped back in a bun stopped, her needle in mid stitch. Sumire Hisagi, the operating surgeon cocked her head to one side, and thought to herself...

My Mahiro-senses are tingling...!

"Hisagi-san!" One of the male nurses cried out quietly, "Why did you stop?"

"Oh, my apologies." She said with a smile, that couldn't be seen behind the face mask that they were all required to wear), "Let's close him up shall we?"

The patient was an overweight Russian man with gunshot wounds and large gashes. Most of the bullets had hit non vital organs, but one had made its way to the man's lungs. Blood had already been pooling up by the time he got the hospital. The gashes had been dealt with quickly but the extraction of the bullets was another matter. The bullets had been embedded deep into the flesh, and it had taken hours to take them out. Luckily, the paramedics had kept the patient's lungs from inflating.

"Hai, Hisagi-san!"

With a few more stitches, the patient's operation was over. The patient was wheeled back to his room for recovery. Sumire pulled the rubber gloves off along with all the other apparels surgeons were supposed to wear during surgery.

After she'd congratulated her fellow surgeons for a job well done, she headed to the locker rooms. Her shift was over. Switching back into her regular clothes she mentally went over the patient's operation and his recovery time. She smiled to herself. He'd be out of the hospital within five months and a half, shorter than the time that it would have taken him to fully recover. Sumire's hands reached up to touch the silver violet, decorating the thin silver chain around her bare throat. It felt warm to the touch, and Sumire imagined she could feel it buzzing.

Nope, wasn't that.

Sumire dropped the little flower and reached into her locker for her cellphone. Another text from Manabu; an update about what's happened on Jun's side in Italy. She sighed.

I hope Mahiro's found soon. Things'll get hectic once dad finds out. Sumire thought. She didn't bother thinking about what her mother would do. Knowing her, she was probably the one behind the whole thing. And if she wasn't, she'd still know where exactly Mahiro was. Sumire didn't know the extent of her mother's connections, but she was sure that it was probably enough to bring down a small country.

Where was Mahiro?

A/N: Finally the Yakuza arc is finished. Finally, I can move on to something more lighthearted and fun. More interaction with the canon characters and PTF!

What did you guys think? I love how bad ass Tsuna is at the end, confronting Anotsu about that knife. I still don't like him but, he was pretty cool there.

I haven't got much left to say except I'm incredibly hungry. Anyways bye.

Don't forget to leave a review! Tell me your thoughts on this chapter and what you want me to write about in the coming chapters!

As promised to blacklightningwolf, the next chapter will have the Sakura Viewing in it!

Please Review!