Mama was kind. Lambo and I-Pin were friends, the first he ever had. Tsuna was a good brother. His life in Namimori could be loud, sometimes, but compared to what he had before it was calm. There was a fundamental difference in how he lived now.

Futa fell into the belief that he could live a normal life. He was homeschooled because it wasn't safe, but otherwise was allowed to live a stable, regular life, one where he didn't have to go to bed in fear that when he woke up a different person would be standing over him with different rankings to be done, or eat foods without worrying that it would be drugged.

Periodically, he took trips with people from the Vongola protecting him so he could rank in safety, but that was by far better than what he had before. Safer, too. 'Normal' was relative, and this 'normal' was one he could love, be happy with.

Futa should have known better than to believe in something as false as 'absolute safety'.

The last of his 'bodyguards' fell, peppered with needles.

"The ranking prince," said the clinical voice of the teenage boy, around Tsuna's age with blank eyes a barcode tattoo on one cheek. Everything about him seemed almost robotic, as if he lacked a few percentages from being truly human. "Come with us, or else."

He pushed up his glasses, but the other teenager with him, a wild-looking blond, grinned widely to reveal fangs in his mouth – the same fangs that had torn through the other half of the bodyguards not felled by needles. There was no need to explain what 'or else' meant.

Futa didn't need his ranking abilities to know that he didn't stand a chance against either of them. It wasn't something he was unused to, because it was all he had known, once, to be treated as a prize and threatened for what he could do, but this time the fear was worse, because he had so much more to lose. Shaking, clutching his book like it was his lifeline, he went with them.

And so ended his halcyon days.

During their conversation, Kawahira put in thirteen different illusions. Hotaru noticed, broke and pointed out each of them, and after the thirteenth one he declared her taught enough in the art of breaking illusions.

"But real illusions are different," said Kawahira. Over the usually empty table, the table that had hosted two illusions during his test, now sat a teddy bear with a purple ribbon tied around its neck.

Hotaru knew by now how to break an illusion's hold over her senses. If an illusion had control over her, she could 'feel' the illusion, recognizing the 'sensation' of something creeping over her senses to trick them.

But try as she could to break this one, she still felt it. The teddy bear had shape, and was solid in her hands. It was present.

"Where illusions take place in the mind," Kawahira said while Hotaru picked up the doll and held it upside down. "Real illusions are manifested in reality."

"Isn't that just creation?" Hotaru questioned, tugging at its ear. It was the kind of doll that was handed out as a prize at festivals, made from synthetic material that was soft, but with an almost- plastic-like texture. She had a bunny doll made of something similar, a prize from one of Takeshi's annual sweeping of any stalls that had the misfortune of offering things to those who could throw balls at targets. Every year he got something for her and Haru and returned the prizes he didn't need or want to not bankrupt fellow citizens of Namimori.

At this point, could it even be considered an 'illusion'?

"It does seem like a misnomer," Kawahira agreed, and from his ring an indigo mist trickled out, to manifest into a violin, the right size for her. "But when the caster is disrupted, or the technique cut off, it can't stay. Creation suggests that the creation can continue existing without the maker, provided it isn't destroyed."

She organized the information briefly. "What makes real illusions able to manifest in reality?"

The grin that spread across his face told her it was the right question to ask.

"A certain, innate quality. I don't mean personality or mindset – I mean, something you are quite literally born with. It's like a double joint, or an eye color. You are born with the talent for real illusions, or you are not. The extent of your talent may differ with how much training and experience goes into it, but that's it. You don't have it, by the way."

Hotaru blinked in surprise at that last bit but accepted his word for it. He had made it clear that he wouldn't teach her illusions, so it made sense that he wouldn't teach her how to create real illusions. "That doesn't seem fair."

"The world isn't fair." Kawahira wiggled his hand, and the mist drifting around them merged into a tall, humanoid shape. The mannequin made of shadows picked up the violin and began to play Paganini's Caprice No. 24. "And what is one person's strength is also their weakness. Like how a knight can jump – but only jump."

Chess was a rather adequate comparison. Each piece had their own rules in movements – but what limited them was also their strengths.

For a few minutes they just enjoyed the sound of the violin solo. Illusion as it may have been, the shadow mannequin still played the violin beautifully.

"I'm out of town for a few days," Kawahira said, as the faceless violinist began plucking the strings. "I need to see what some old acquaintances are up to."

"Helios?"

Kawahira shook his head. "Acquaintances. Your homework will be to think about ways that real illusions can be broken, at least three. I want you to be creative about it."

Just for that, Hotaru mentally noted 'throw ramen on the ground' as one way.

"Have fun on your trip," she told him as she left.

He snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "I doubt it. They don't like me very much."

The ranking book closed, and with the sound Futa flinched. For a few days now, the book was enough to hold his kidnapper's attention. The finality of the way the book was closed was like a call for an execution.

His execution.

"It's said that whoever owns this book," said the teenager with mismatched eyes, tapping a gloved finger against its cover. "Could control the mafia world with the information it holds."

Futa tried to be brave, like Tsuna, but he couldn't stop shaking. If the book wasn't holding his attention, then there was only one thing that his kidnapper would have wanted from him.

"I'll admit, this is a very helpful resource, but clearly the rumors are rather exaggerated." There was a pause. "After all, you certainly don't control the mafia world."

Rokudo Mukuro stood, and Futa shook harder.

"It's always about power, in the end. Information can be power, but only in the right hands, with the right circumstances. Information was your power, but that's why you went to the Vongola, wasn't it? To find someone who could wield your power better than you could?"

Even as he was frightened, Futa shook his head. That wasn't why he went to Tsuna. It might have been the reason for why he initially tracked down the candidate for the Vongola Decimo, when he first realized the rankings for the Vongola's succession had changed, but it wasn't the reason that made Futa decide to stay.

"Oh? Is that so?" Rokudo Mukuro chuckled. "Well, it doesn't matter."

A trident manifested in his hands, the three-pronged tips sharp, and he began to advance towards Futa. "This will only sting a little – if you don't struggle."

"Before I dismiss class," said Ms. Kaai, their homeroom teacher. "I wanted to warn everyone. Some of you might have heard about the assaults on students from Namimori Middle."

A murmur rose in the class. Hotaru frowned. No one she knew had been attacked, but still. The entire town was worried. This wasn't the usual case of kids getting into a fight over hotheaded disagreements. Students were being hospitalized, and Haruka was considering driving Hotaru to and from school.

"I'm aware it's students from Namimori Middle being attacked, and so far, no one from Midori has been hurt," Ms. Kaai continued. "But that doesn't mean you all shouldn't be careful. If you see a fight, stay away. Don't go places alone, and don't go out when it's dark. Stay safe, girls. And remember – there's a test coming up, so study and don't cram."

"Yes, Ms. Kaai," they chorused, and the bell rang.

Haru picked up her bag and came to Hotaru's desk, eyes downcast with concern. "I'm worried about Tsuna-san."

"Not Takeshi?" Hotaru asked playfully.

"Him too," Haru added. "But Takeshi-kun's usually with the baseball team, or with Tsuna-san and Gokudera-san. He's not alone a lot."

True.

Hotaru was a little worried, too, despite her earlier teasing. The cause didn't seem to have anything to do with monsters or magic, meaning it was a human thing. Setsuna did say, though, that Hibari – the son of her friend, that was, as in the infamous prefect of Namimori Middle – was looking into it.

Maybe Kawahira would have a good idea about what was going on. She could ask when he returned from his trip. Hotaru was fairly sure it wasn't a ghost of a boy murdered twenty years ago exacting revenge on the students of his former school, like some of the rumors currently being discussed two desks away, but still. Something was going on in Namimori, and she was concerned.

"I know we said we were going to study together," said Haru. "But is it okay if I go and check on Tsuna-san?"

Inside Futa's soul, Nabu stirred, despite the impossibility of that. Perhaps it was because of his coming in contact with Sailor Chu. Perhaps it was because the powers of Rokudo Mukuro were related to reincarnation. Perhaps it was because Futa was a special case.

Whatever the reason, Nabu was awake within Futa's dreamscape now. The space they were in was vast, and empty. A pair of double doors, chained and locked, was the only thing that existed other than himself and Futa. Futa was curled up, hands over his ears and eyes squeezed shut in fear.

The doors shook, and with each booming sound of an attack, the chains rattled, threatening to give way to force.

Someone was trying to break in. In the way one knew something with full certainty without knowing how they knew it, Nabu knew that whoever was trying to invade this space that was within Futa's mind wanted to use Futa.

Nabu knelt at Futa's side. "Futa."

His reincarnation didn't respond, and so he put a hand to Futa's head, a gentle touch that, despite the lack of harmful intent behind it, nonetheless made Futa flinch.

"It's okay," he soothed, like Tsuna did when Futa had nightmares. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," Futa said, voice wet with tears, the hopeless weeping of someone who was doing everything he could to just hold off the inevitable for a few moments longer. "He's going to control me and use me and hurt Tsuna-nii and Mama and Lambo and I-Pin and-"

Nabu cut him off before he could list everyone that he cared about. It was a longer list than before, and they didn't have time for that. In dreams and in the soul, time could be stretched so that a moment outside was far longer in here, but the enemy was someone who walked dreams and manipulated the senses, so that advantage was useless. They really didn't have much time.

"Will he?"

"Yes."

"Can he?"

Futa opened his mouth to say yes, and then stopped. "Who are you?"

Nabu smiled. That he asked the question, didn't know who he was, was in itself an answer to the question Nabu was about to ask Futa now. Already, Futa was trying to shut away his ranking ability, the very power that all residents of the planet Chu had. The power Futa, despite being of Earth, had because of Nabu.

He was trying to shut away Nabu. Nabu would help him with that. He needed to realize the source of his power to truly discard it.

"You, in another life far before. It's from me that your ranking powers manifested."

Despite his fear and the situation Futa seemed curious, and Nabu would usually have loved to answer his questions – who could say that they had a chance to speak with their reincarnation, after all? – but they were nearly out of time.

"There's one way that I can help you," Nabu said. The only way Nabu could help him, and what he offered was so minimal it was pathetic. "The power you have right now is because of me – it's not something a Terran should rightfully have."

"Terran?"

"Human, sorry. No time," he added when Futa opened his mouth for additional questions. "Your powers are why Rokudo Mukuro wants you, and that's what you fear most – that you'll hurt your family."

Futa nodded. He was a smart boy, something Nabu didn't say just because Futa was his reincarnation.

"I can take away your powers, leave you useless to his schemes. But," he added, because this was the catch. "If you're useless to him, he may kill you. What would you like me to do?"

Futa didn't seem surprised at the logical conclusion Nabu spoke of, and of course he didn't. He was a smart boy, too smart because he had to be. If it was his powers the invader wanted, then his worth was greatly decreased without it, to the point where he was more hindrance than boon. He had grown up with greedy hands trying to snatch him up, trails of blood not his left behind his life and leaving scars from trauma in his heart.

"I accept," he said instead, so firmly that even Nabu was a little taken aback at the complete lack of hesitation. No considering the implications carefully, no mentally ranking the pros and cons, no asking further questions. Just a steady, unshaking decision.

He hadn't lied, in telling Futa that he could take away his ranking powers, but truth be told there was more to that. It wasn't just a one-sided transaction. The power itself might have come from Nabu, but it was Futa who needed to let go, because it was Futa who was alive. As soon as he was aware of this he could shut it away himself.

Nabu did have to warn him. If he withdrew traces of his past life, locked himself up beyond reach of even someone who could cross the barrier of the mind, Nabu would likely never be able to manifest again. It was the natural way of things, because Nabu was dead and should stay dead so that Futa could live his life without the ghost of a life he didn't know hanging over his shoulders, but with him would go the powers Futa had.

And Futa was alive.

However troublesome his powers may have been, drawing in misfortune the way treasures drew in greed and curses, they were still undeniably something that could be helpful, something that would be missed. They were still a form of protection for Futa, the only weapon he had. "It may never be reversible."

The chains groaned with strain. Alarmed by the approaching danger, Futa's eyes widened with urgency.

"That's fine," he said, the pitch of his voice raised in worry. "Do it!"

Nabu nodded, because that command by itself was more than enough to do the job, and accepted death a second time – and with the dark oblivion that came took the traces of himself left on Futa.

"Goodbye, Futa," he said, as he began to disappear. "And good luck."

The last thing Nabu saw was the doors burst open, and he laughed at the hell that would soon be disappointed at what they found as he slipped away.

It might be a paltry resistance, but it was theirs.

There was a light thud, as if a stuffed animal had hit the ground. It wasn't a significant sound, and had there been more noise around, he might not have even caught it.

But his ears did catch the sound, so Tsuna glanced at the source of the noise and screamed. "What is that?!"

"Leon's tail," Reborn answered, and true to his word, the small chameleon had a stump instead of a tail. "It broke off."

The green tail flopped a few times, as if in response, and Tsuna's face decided it wanted to follow the pigmentation of the detached tail on the ground.

He was seriously grossed out, but Reborn picked it up carefully. "Whenever this happens, it's an unlucky sign."

Tsuna looked around the hospital, at all the people who were from Namimori or related to someone from his school, filled with concern for their hospitalized acquaintances. 'Unlucky' seemed like the right way to describe it.

Rokudo Mukuro emerged from the mindscape of the now-unconscious ranking prince, a contemplative smile curving his lips upwards.

The ranking prince's abilities were always known for being interesting, but to think that it would be out of his reach, even under mind control, was surprising.

He could respect the resolve the young boy showed, choosing to rid himself of the very thing that might have kept him alive if only to keep it out of his hands. Reckless, but brave and defiant, a refusal to be used.

If only it wasn't dedicated to the filth of this world that was the mafia.

"I had hoped you might know better," he murmured, and it wasn't a lie. The ranking prince, of all people, should have wanted the mafia to be destroyed. It could simply have been that he was still too young, or that he hadn't seen the same hells Mukuro did to lose his sense of reality as he had, but still.

A pity that he wouldn't be his ally in the best way – but there were always other paths to take.

"What kind of a man is the Vongola Decimo?" he asked a question that wouldn't be answered – not right away, no, but soon. Ken and Chikusa were already in Namimori, sending a message through the language of blood, heralding the time ticking down to Mukuro's gaining a new puppet. Wasn't it natural, to be curious about the man whose body he would wear like a corpse doll as he laid the world to ruin?

A civilian, but chosen by the Vongola Nono himself, and the way that Futa de la Stella closed his heart off for the code of omertà suggested he was already a ruthless man, stained with sin and crime and enforcing his ways with force and fear.

Mukuro looked forward to stealing his life from him.

The sounds of the fight had been steadily growing louder, but it came to its climax when an unconscious body was thrown through the already-weak glass. Through the newly created opening stepped in a proud soul, wielding two tonfas.

"You've finally come," Mukuro said, perhaps a little theatrically. But wasn't it the right mood for such dramatics – a dark hero, come for a fight, and the villain reclining in his seat like it was a throne in the shadows?

(In stories he never had the chance to grow up on, the hero would emerge victorious. But Mukuro grew up to the sounds of clinical voices discussing medication and procedures, and his own screams.

There were no happy endings, in those.)

"It took a while to find you," said number one on the ranking list taken from the foolishly loyal child. "Are you the ringleader behind this mischief?"

A proud soul, and, for someone in a small town, with the right to be so, that Mukuro would give him.

But a frog in a well, too, for he had too small a scale. Even now, he classified Mukuro's plans as 'mischief'.

As if 'mischief' was enough a word to contain the grand scheme of his plans.

Feeling magnanimous towards one with too narrow a vision, Mukuro did not correct him. He would learn, soon enough. "Fu fu fu, something like that. Next, we'll bring a new order to your town."

"You must be thick. Namimori does not require two orders."

The first correct thing the proud boy had said since arriving. "Indeed, I agree wholeheartedly. Since I'll be taking over, we won't have any further need for you."

Spikes sprung up from the tonfas.

"That won't be happening," said Hibari Kyoya with the confidence of one not yet broken and beaten. "Because right here and right now, I'm going to bite you to death."

A puppy, barking at a tiger because he was brave with his ignorance. Mukuro would just have to teach him the error of his ways, then.

AN: In TYL I hope Rokudo Mukuro apologized or made up for what he did to Futa. For those who don't remember the interlude, Futa's past life = Nabu, the scholar from Chu who moved to the SilMil and died with everyone else two thousand years ago.

+ﾟ*｡:ﾟ+

TL;DR

Kawahira: They don't like me very much.

Vindice: *LITERALLY BURNING WITH HATRED THAT KEEPS THEM HAUNTING THIS MORTAL REALM*

+ﾟ*｡:ﾟ+

Nabu: only a legend would use their second, true death as a middle finger to someone invading their mindscape

Mukuro: Impressive. But I'm not done with you yet.

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Sweet Dreams~