A/N: Review replies

Lady Hummingbird,

I thought it was cute how you did your own research and corrected yourself! It's not something you see every day, especially online.

Guest,

My bad lol yeah it (my explanation) doesn't make sense. Granted, I began writing this fic years ago, so I myself am a bit iffy about the timeline. Basically, Reborn was introduced before this fic, but doesn't show up officially til later.

Ty, Zombie-onigiri, for calling me out. xoxo

EDITED: 18/05/17

XXI

Of Wins and Losses

"Kill me."

It wasn't a plea, or even a command. It was a simple request, the wish of someone stuck between a rock and a hard place. Everyone in the room—well, those of them that were still conscious, at any rate—knew death was a much more appealing alternative to whatever punishment Mukuro would be sentenced to once their battle was over for good.

Tsuna bowed his head, unable to watch the desperation creep across Mukuro's bruised and battered face. The action was pointless, since Tsuna's new power—Hyper Intuition, unlocked by Leon's latest gift for him—enhanced his senses to a fine degree. He could feel everything Mukuro felt, and it pained him.

"I can't do that," he murmured, blazing fists clenching through his gloves.

That moment of distraction was all Mukuro needed to leap into action. There was movement in the corner of Tsuna's eye, but by the time he snapped his head up, Mukuro had managed to rush up behind him. His rough hands dug into Tsuna's wrists as he pulled them back, and Tsuna stifled a scream as he felt his bones creak in protest.

"So naïve, Vongola," Mukuro hissed into his ear. "That'll get you killed, you know."

Tsuna struggled and flailed, but Mukuro's grip was as unyielding as a stone statue's. He tried pumping more power into his hands, but the orange flames enshrouding them did little more than flare brightly. Mukuro was wise enough to keep his hands on Tsuna's forearms, away from the heat of the blazing fire.

"Nice try," he said, his complimentary words clashing with his mocking tone. "Your strange power is thanks to the flames on your hands, correct? Well, if I seal your arms, there's nothing to be afraid of."

The back of Tsuna's head exploded in pain as Mukuro rammed his forehead against it. Gasping, he fell forward, but Mukuro refused to let go. "Do you know why I sent so many assassins after you?" he asked, driving a knee into Tsuna's back with a grunt. "It's so I can you possess you after you've drawn out your full potential. Good work," he added, and Tsuna could hear him smirk.

"Please," he continued, yanking Tsuna's arms back one last time before throwing him forward with a vicious kick, "rest up!"

Tsuna hissed as he was thrown through the air and towards the wall. His intuition flashed, but before he could do anything about it, he crashed into the wall and thus the trident that had been sticking out of it, ready to stab him through. With a wet cough, Tsuna slumped forward and off the pronged weapon. He collapsed onto the floor while Mukuro calmly strode towards him, an air of smug satisfaction rolling off of him in waves.

He lost. He actually lost. Tsuna's eyes burned as tears began to stream down his cheeks. He tilted his head to the side, where Reborn looked at him with those endless black pits that he had as eyes. "No-Good Tsuna," he sighed. "Wake up."

What?

"Wake up!"

A smart SLAP resounded in the Sawada household as its resident hitman-turned-tutor smacked his latest pupil across the face. Tsuna's gasp heightened into a scream as he tumbled out of his bed in shock. "Reborn!" he yelled once he fought his way out of his blanket. "What was that for?!"

"You were having another nightmare," responded Reborn.

Right. A nightmare – that was all it was. In reality, Tsuna had reacted in time. His flames to powered up of their own accord, allowing him to slow himself down before he could come into contact with the trident.

The smirk on Mukuro's bloodied face slid right off as Tsuna switched directions mid-air and propelled himself forward. He seemed to be frozen in shock at the seemingly impossible move Tsuna had just pulled off, so much so that he didn't even try to dodge Tsuna's attack.

Roaring, Tsuna slammed his gloved hand onto Mukuro's face and pushed him down to the ground. The wooden floorboards imploded as they came crashing down, forming a crater around them. His hand still on Mukuro, Tsuna willed his flames to pulse and heat up. When he retracted it, the dark cracks splintering Mukuro's face disappeared, his Dying Will Flame having purified the cursed power the illusionist had drawn on to fight.

And then those creepy Vindice people came and dragged the Kokuyo trio back to prison. Tsuna shivered at the memory of Ken and Chikusa kicking and screaming as they fought futilely to pull the chains off of them.

"Do you have any updates on Mukuro and the rest?" Tsuna asked Reborn solemnly.

Reborn peered at him for a moment before nodding. "Lancia's name is cleared of all the crimes committed while under Mukuro's possession. M.M.'s being held at a maximum security prison, different to that of Mukuro. He and his two lackeys have been sent to Vendicare."

Vendicare, the prison controlled by the bandaged men known as the Vindice. According to Reborn, the wardens had been around ever since the mafia became a thing. He didn't say so, but Tsuna could tell Reborn himself was wary of them. He supposed it made sense, since they had to maintain order and control over the most fearsome criminals the underworld had ever seen, but…

"Are they cruel?"

"Inordinately so," Reborn said, point-blank. "Still entertaining delusions about getting them to free Mukuro and his gang?"

His tone was scathing, his gaze sardonic. But Tsuna nodded anyway. "You said it yourself, right? That my flames purified the evil inside him, or something. That means he can change. How's he supposed to do that when he's locked up in prison? Who knows what could happen to him in there? Besides," he added, eyes on his lap, "Tsubame hasn't been the same since that day."

She had regained consciousness first, being the least injured out of everyone involved in the fight against Mukuro. Her body was sore all over thanks to the reckless treatment it had experienced under Mukuro's control, but she was otherwise okay…physically, at least. When Tsuna had informed her about Chikusa's fate, she pretty much shut down and laid back in the hospital bed, only tuning back in as he explained what happened after Mukuro had shot himself once the others woke up.

It had been two weeks since then, and Tsuna had only just been discharged from the hospital. His sudden shift into Hyper Dying Will mode, in combination the constant beatings he had taken, had done quite a number on his body. Even after his friends were free to leave the hospital, they visited him practically every day, entertaining him with recounts of their daily lives.

Except things weren't really the same anymore. Whatever progress Tsubame had made over the past few months she'd been in Namimori had been destroyed in less than a week. She was back to being cold and quiet, only offering an occasional smirk or smile at their antics. Gokudera saw her most thanks to their living situations, and confessed she spent most of her alone time staring aimlessly out the window, at her apartment, or at the TV.

At that point, Yamamoto had chipped in, confirming Gokudera's words by adding that she had done the same whenever he invited her out to eat, or dropped by, or dragged her along to one of his baseball practises.

"And she didn't even protest?" asked Tsuna. Watching a bunch of sweaty dudes run around a park just didn't seem like her cup of tea.

Yamamoto shook his head. "She didn't say much of anything, really."

"You need to keep her busy," said Reborn. "Keep her mind off things."

They tried. Yamamoto got her a job at Takesushi while Gokudera kept her company in their apartments. In a way, they were all doing as Reborn said – keeping busy. When Yamamoto wasn't practising for the tournament, he was visiting Tsuna at the hospital or helping his dad out at their restaurant. Gokudera kept up with the politics of the underworld in his spare time, as well as learning how to cook since Tsubame was reluctant to make anything that involved using a knife.

And Tsuna? His life remained busy as he tried to keep his friends and family from blowing up the hospital whenever they visited. He was pretty sure Lambo was going to be banned for life from Namimori's central hospital at this rate. Reborn was relentless as ever, using Tsuna's inability to move to drill him with information and facts about the Vongola and other key Families. It was hell.

"Tsu-kun?" His mum knocked once before opening the door. "You awake? Would you like some lunch?"

Tsuna smiled. "Sure. What's on the menu today?"

Mum chuckled mysteriously. "You'll see."

Mildly apprehensive, Tsuna followed her out the door and downstairs. Now that he thought about it, it was a bit too quiet. He looked to Reborn for guidance, but his home tutor had vanished. Tsuna tensed, his footsteps slowing as he turned the corner and headed into the kitchen.

Pops filled the air, and Tsuna almost jumped right out of his skin before he realised the cause wasn't gunshots or explosions or anything like that – it was party poppers. Brightly-coloured streamers were taped along the wall as balloons hovered by the ceiling. Everyone was standing behind the dining table, which almost groaned beneath all the food piled on top of it.

"Congrats on being discharged, Tenth!" said Gokudera, a bright grin on his face.

Yamamoto beamed at him. "Welcome back, Tsuna."

His mum wrapped him in a hug from behind. "Welcome home, Tsu-kun."

Tsuna smiled so widely his cheeks began to hurt. "You guys did all this for me?" he asked giddily.

"And the food," said Reborn, who was already beginning to dig in. "You lot better hurry up before we eat it all."

"Here, Hayato," Bianchi said, handing Gokudera a plate of inedible poison cooking. He abruptly paled and hid behind Tsuna's mum.

Tsuna grabbed himself some sushi, courtesy of Yamamoto, as well as some curry rice before heading outside. Tsubame was already out there on the porch, her own plate full of salad and pasta as she watched the white clouds drift over the blue sky.

"Hey, Tsuna," she said as he sat down next to her. "You feeling okay?"

He nodded, picking at his food. "You?"

"I guess," she said, when they both knew she meant 'no'. They ate in silence for a while, watching the scenery as well as his rowdy family as they streamed outside and did what they did best: cause chaos. "There's going to be a trial."

The comment was so out-of-the-blue that Tsuna had to wait a few seconds before the words could sink in. "What?" he finally said.

Tsubame lowered her fork. "I called my parents and told them about Chikusa. They know about Vindicare prison, and said that people can argue for the sake of the prisoners, to shorten their time or get them out completely. Since they're family, and since they're pretty aware of what happened to Chikusa as a child, they can have a say in what happens to him."

"That's great!" Tsuna said sincerely. "Isn't it?"

"It is," she acknowledged with the shadow of a smile. "But they also told me not to get my hopes up. He was Mukuro's accomplice, after all, and they don't take too kindly to criminals whose goals include a world drenched in blood and war," she said dryly.

"What a nut," Gokudera snorted, squeezing into the spot between Tsuna and Tsubame. He really took the whole right-hand man thing a bit too seriously. "Seriously, I get wanting to destroy the mafia, but the whole world too? Insane."

Yamamoto hummed thoughtfully as he lowered himself next to Tsubame's unoccupied size. "Wasn't he going through some stuff, though?"

"Yeah," murmured Tsubame, stabbing her fork into her salad. "Human experimentation. Can you imagine? Spending your childhood as a lab rat, being subjected to who-knows-what every day until you finally grow strong enough to kill your tormentors with your own bare hands… That guy needs some serious therapy."

Gokudera shoved a chip into his mouth. "You should tell your parents to add that to their line of argument: therapy, not jail."

The barb wasn't even that funny, but they laughed despite the morbidity of it all, because the other alternative was to cry, and they couldn't afford to do that, not in front of his mum and Lambo and I-Pin and Fuuta, who took so long to fully believe that he had done nothing wrong when Mukuro kidnapped him. Besides, it was a party; there were no room for tears here.

"Oh, Tsubame," Yamamoto said after they settled down. "You're not wearing the DC band around your hair anymore."

"Yeah," she murmured, running a hand through her ponytail. It was so long and thick that it brushed against the polished floorboards of the porch. "I haven't worn it since Hibari suspended me."

"Wow," said Tsuna, swallowing the last of his curry. "That sounds serious. What made him do that?"

Tsubame's face scrunched up as she tried to think back. "You know what? I don't even remember. But whatever. I tried visiting him at the hospital after—you know—and it was really awkward."

"Awkward?" echoed Tsuna. "How? Why?"

She shrugged. "Just was. By the way, you might wanna dodge."

"Wha—?"

Tsuna never got to finish, because that was when he spotted the tennis ball shooting right across his head. He felt it tease the tips of his hair as he dodged, screeching.

"Tenth!" yelped Gokudera. He leapt up, throwing his plate off of his lap in the process. "Who did that?!"

Lambo's obnoxious laughter was all the answer they needed. Growling, Gokudera rushed towards him, berating him loudly along the way. Lambo responded by pulling a face and running off, prompting a game of chase that had I-Pin and Fuuta eagerly joining in.

Yamamoto laughed and Tsubame cracked a smile. Tsuna leaned back on the palms of his hands, watching them all fondly. Things weren't quite the same, but it was enough.

Technically, Haru was supposed to be supporting the away team. The Midori Boys' middle school baseball team were skilled, and everyone knew it. But they still couldn't beat Namimori's team, not when their star player Yamamoto Takeshi was on a roll.

For all the elitism their school boasted about, its students were the same as any other. The girls in Haru's school loved to gossip, and she had to admit she wasn't above listening in from time to time. Based on what she'd heard, the Midori Boys were banking on Yamamoto's slump and subsequent injury to seize the championship themselves. They didn't plan on Yamamoto making a full recovery weeks before the tournament, nor did they realise he'd return to his former fervour and crush them all with almost no trouble.

Their loss was the result of poor planning on their part, and so when the whistle was blown and the final scores tallied up, Haru joined the rest of the gang in leaping out of her seat and cheering fervently for Namimori's success. Noticing how Tsubame remained seated, she reached down and enveloped her in a happy hug. Tsubame smiled indulgently at her unbridled joy. Yamamoto waved up at them from the field, grinning hugely.

"Yamamoto!" roared Kyoko's overzealous brother. "I knew you could it!"

"Yeah, right," scoffed the rude boy known as Gokudera Hayato, aka Haru's rival for Tsuna's affections. "Not ten minutes ago you said they'd lose."

Ryohei started screaming louder the moment Gokudera opened his mouth, effectively drowning him out. Tsuna slapped himself in the face from his seat between them.

They left as a group to TakeSushi for the celebratory party. Everything had been planned by the Yamamotos and Tsubame; even if their team had lost, the dinner would've progressed anyway, just as a conciliatory one.

"Sushi! Sushi!" sang the kids as they ran off, leading them. Tsuna's mum was only one step behind them, watchful of her unofficial children. Lambo was notorious for robbing candy stores when no one was looking, after all.

As they left the stadium, Haru snatched up both Tsubame's and Kyoko's hands in each of her own, swinging them merrily. Tsubame flexed her right hand within Haru's grip but, unlike the first time, didn't try to snatch her hand away from her grip. She had given up fighting it, allowing her hand to hang in hers like a limp fish.

"I'm so glad the break's finally here," she sighed. "Finals are over, and you know what that means!"

She and Kyoko exchanged giddy looks and said, "Cake dates!"

"You should join us, Tsubame-chan!" invited Kyoko, and because it was her, it sounded sincere.

Tsubame probably picked up on it as well. "Only if they have cheesecake," she said with a smile.

"Oh, thank god you said yes," said Haru, visibly relieved. "Ever since Hana-chan rejected our offer, I was starting to think Kyoko and I were the weird ones, hahi."

It was nice, letting out her quirk without having to be embarrassed about it. The first time her trademark hiccup had emerged was when she was seven and had just been to her very first parade. She couldn't remember why there was one in the first place, too caught up in the festivities and the floats and costumes that streamed by on the streets of New York. When she returned to Japan and offered her story for show-and-tell, her excitable hiccup had slipped out, prompting the entire class to laugh at her.

She refused to speak up after that, afraid to be the object of such ridicule again. Her parents tried to coax her out of her self-imposed muteness, assuring her that it was endearing and unique, just like the rest of her. It worked, to an extent. Haru livened up again, despite the occasional slap of shame she felt whenever her speech impediment popped up.

It was why she adored Tsuna so much – he was the person to not react to her quirk, not even to give her an odd look. Better yet, his friends followed suit, and Haru felt closer to them in the handful of months she'd known them than the girls she hung with at school every day.

"Why did Hana decline?" asked Tsubame, nudging a loose piece of gravel with her foot.

"Same reason she didn't come today," said Kyoko in a conspiratorial sort of whisper. "She hates having fun."

Tsubame snorted. "No, really."

Kyoko nodded seriously, widening her eyes as if to convey the earnestness behind her words. A month ago, Haru would've been fooled by Kyoko's apparent innocence, but after spending so much time together, she knew better by now.

As did Tsubame, apparently. "I doubt anyone actively hates enjoying themselves," she said, but then a sliver of doubt snuck into her voice. "Even if Hana looks like the type."

With a giggle, Kyoko finally gave up on her pretence. "She just doesn't like eating sweets. And she's out celebrating her little brother's birthday with her family today to come and hang."

Surprised, Haru stopped swinging their interlocked hands. "She has a brother? But doesn't she hate children?" Personally, she didn't know how anyone could hate kids – they were so small and cute and pure.

Kyoko nodded. "It's because she has a little brother that she hates kids so much."

"Must be one hell of a brat," muttered Tsubame with a pointed look at Lambo, who was currently trying to pick a fight with a stray cat. The adults and kids had already gone ahead, leaving the teens behind in their haste to start paying. Only Lambo dilly-dallied and, without the watchful eye of Nana on him, he took to doing whatever he wanted.

Wait a minute, Tsubame thought, slowing in her steps, I know that cat.

She just finished untangling her hand from Haru's when the familiar black cat, fed up with Lambo's poking and prodding, attacked with a hiss. Shrieking, Lambo fell back, his tiny hands pressed against the angry scratches stretching out from cheek to cheek.

Haru gasped. "Poor thing!"

Tsubame frowned sympathetically as she scooped up the cat in her arms. "He's okay," she assured Haru.

"I meant Lambo-kun!"

"Oh."

Poor Lambo indeed. First he had been struck by a mangy old cat, and then he was ignored in favour of the stray!

"Hold…it…in…" he said through gritted teeth.

"You really shouldn't provoke animals like that," Tsubame said admonishingly.

It was too much. "I can't!" sobbed Lambo. To the girls' amazement, he pulled out a bright purple bazooka from his afro and shoved himself into the end ammunition was supposed to come out from.

Is… Is he going to shoot himself into the sky? was Tsubame's wild guess.

From inside the bazooka, Lambo tugged on a string connected to the trigger. Pink smoke, of all things, erupted from within, spooking the cat and sending it running off. Tsubame was right in the thick of it, and coughed violently as the ridiculously coloured fumes invaded her lungs.

Tsubame expected to see a heavily sobbing Lambo once the smoke cleared instead. When she peered down, though, she was faced with a guy around her age, if a little older. His wavy black hair made his green eyes all the more prominent, but her attention was snatched away by his clothing. A pendant resembling bullhorns hung from the necklace curled tightly around his neck and above his practically bare chest. He was wearing a shirt alright, but the cow-printed top and the black blazer atop of it were unbuttoned save for the one in the middle, flashing most of his torso and some of his stomach.

Haru screamed. "Pervert!" she yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the groggy teen. "What did you do with Lambo-kun?!"

The green-eyed newcomer held out his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture. "I'm right here," he said, and then it clicked.

Black hair, green eyes, weird obsession with cow patterns? The nudity was new, though (well, not really, since Lambo liked to run around the house naked before and after bathing sometimes). She was looking at an older version of Lambo.

"Wha?" she said eloquently.

"He's telling the truth," offered Tsuna. "That thing he used is called the Ten Year Bazooka, and when you use it, you switch places with your future self."

"Whoa," she murmured. "That's so cool."

"Isn't it?" laughed Yamamoto. "That kid always has the best toys."

"It's not a toy!" snapped Gokudera, before adding a muttered, "Even if the cow brat treats it like one…"

Teenage Lambo yawned as he stood up from his seat on the ground. "I've forgotten how noisy you guys used to be," he grumbled, dusting himself off and ignoring Tsuna's indignant squawk at the hypocrisy of it all. "Short, too," he added, looking directly at Tsubame.

Gokudera's guffaws filled her ears as she gaped at Lambo. Ten years into the future and he's still a piece of shit!

Lambo smiled down at her. "Just kidding, Tsu'me," he said, his slurred voice butchering her name and cutting out a whole syllable entirely. Before she could stop him, he reached out and grabbed the end of her ponytail. "You look differently with your hair like this," he noted, pressing the tips of her hair against his lips.

Frowning, he let it slip through his fingers when he noticed her reaction. Tsubame had turned into a statue—albeit a very red one—as she stared, stunned at teenage Lambo's audacity. "Ah," he said awkwardly. "You're not used to this sort of thing yet, are you? Well, look at the time." He glanced at his watch. "My visit should be up soon. Bye!"

Just as Lambo turned to leave, a cloud of smoke enveloped him. A second later, his much more preferred younger self appeared, his hands sticky with candy.

Two thoughts swam into Tsubame's head at that moment. The first was that she needed a haircut, ASAP. The second was What the hell do I turn into in ten years' time?

The answer to that question came a lot earlier than she thought it would.

Alternate title: Of Consequences and Celebrations