Long branches swayed lazily against a wide background of blue sky. Leaves of vivid green whispered and rippled in the air, fluttering in a light breeze that carried a hint of rain and summer.
The window was large and clean. It had no lock, no bars, as if it were perfectly normal to reach out and pull it open, as if nobody cared that it could be used to slip away from the room.
Tsuna stared, caught somewhere between fascinated and petrified. His eyes were wide, dry, and the world was going blurry at the edge of his vision. But he didn't blink.
Was it a test?
A trick?
It sure felt like the gaping maw of a trap posed to swallow him whole if he twitched wrong.
Tsuna sneaked a glance to his right.
The woman sitting beside him didn't notice. She'd plopped down on a chair hours ago and hadn't really looked up from her smartphone since then. Even now she was focused on the flat screen, her brows furrowed in a straight line of concentration. Tsuna's eyes slid down her blue uniform, landing on the gun strapped at her hips. He shuddered.
Finally sensing his gaze on her, the woman looked up. "Doing alright?" she asked.
Tsuna nodded, squirming a little. The white sheet concealing the dirty and ragged grey of his pants shifted, creasing and wrinkling with each move. Tsuna ran a hand over the fabric, admiring how nice it felt against his skin.
Really, this so-called hospital wasn't bad at all. Yes, it did smell of disinfectant, and people in white coats were everywhere.
But.
It was new. And so different.
They'd given him food, water, and put him in a bed so soft it melted under him when he lied down. The place was alive, like a whirlwind of sounds and movements, full of colors and voices. No children crept along the walls, cringing each time a doctor looked their ways. It didn't reek of fear.
Tsuna sort of liked it.
(Not like he had a choice anyway.)
Observing his surroundings was becoming an addiction. The objects. The rooms. The doctors and their patients. The way they talked and walked and worked.
Staying focused and watchful was good, necessary even.
To avoid getting trapped in his own mind. To forget the maze of bloody memories where little shadows ran and ran and ran in a dark forest, and where their screams echoed each other's, and where Nero jumped in front of Tsuna with a yell –
His hands were shaking.
Tsuna looked down.
Even against the white of the sheet, his fingers were pale, the tips almost blue.
And the tremors wouldn't stop.
Tsuna slipped his hands under his thighs, folding his memories away in the same breath.
A rustle of fabric.
Plastic sliding over metal.
"Hey, guys!"
A nurse appeared, swinging the privacy curtain open with a grin. The sounds of furious activity immediately seemed to grow in intensity, as if having a visual of the people milling about in the rest of the emergency room made them more real.
Tsuna flinched.
The nurse's smile dimmed. "I've got good news for you," he said, closing the curtain behind him.
"Oh?" The woman sitting beside the bed stirred. "Are they here?"
The nurse hummed an affirmative. "Just walked through the door." He fiddled with the roller clamp of Tsuna's IV and scribbled something on a chart. "The wait's almost over, so hang in there a little longer, okay? We'll set you up in your own room asap."
"Awesome." The policewoman stood up, slid her phone in her pocket, and stretched both arms above her head with a sigh of relief. She grinned. "So. Your parents will be here soon. How cool is that?"
Tsuna stared at her blankly.
Silence filled his head, loud and roaring.
Liar, a small, ugly voice hissed in his ears. Dirty, filthy liar.
That word – parents – had made him uncomfortable from the very moment a policeman had whispered to a stern-faced doctor that they'd successfully contacted his guardians.
"Okay, you're doing great," the nurse muttered, eying the machine beeping by the bed. "But you're still a little dehydrated so don't forget to drink."
A pointed look at the untouched glass of funny salty water on the night table.
Tsuna frowned at it.
The nurse huffed a little laugh, ruffled Tsuna's hair, then disappeared behind the curtain.
Stillness fell over the tiny, confined space.
Tsuna fidgeted, biting his lips. His skin itched, as if something was crawling underneath. He scratched his forearms, leaving angry welts of red behind. It didn't make him feel any better. If anything, the irritating sensation grew stronger. Something under his skin was poking at him, prickling and stinging and smarting and not going away.
His Flames bucked.
(Leave. Need-to-leave now.)
He hopped off the bed.
The policewoman blinked at him. "Do you have to go to the bathroom – hey!"
Tsuna ripped the needle from his arm, yanked the privacy curtain open, and was immediately swallowed by a tidal wave of organized chaos.
Men and woman strode past him with purposeful steps, some wearing white coats, others dressed in blue scrubs. Medical machines beeped and blinked, phones were ringing, and somewhere close by a baby had started crying. Everything was fast and loud, like a beehive kicked into overdrive.
It was so far from the silence and stillness of Tsuna's cell, so different from the cold and sterile rooms where he had been watched like a bug under a microscope.
Tsuna froze.
Too much.
It was just. Too much.
He could feel his body locking up, his mind rebelling against the violent onslaught of sensory input. He remembered now, crossing this very room for the first time earlier that afternoon. The old lady who'd picked him up in the forest had brought him there, to this emergency room, and he'd sort of gone catatonic on them.
And it was happening again.
His thoughts were slowing to a crawl, his mind shutting down, his lungs tightening –
"Damn." A hand clamped down on Tsuna's shoulder and turned him around. "What a mess." The policewoman grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the trickle of blood running down Tsuna's arm. "Come on, get back in bed."
Tsuna opened his mouth to say no, I want to leave, but no sound came out.
The woman frowned. It could have been terrifying expression, a warning to stop being difficult right now, but there was no real anger on her face. Her eyes – large and blue – were clear and direct. They didn't hide any shadow.
She started to firmly herd Tsuna backward – and then suddenly paused. Her attention had been caught by something at the reception desk. She pointed a finger. "Look. I think that's your folks over there."
Tsuna blinked. Glanced over his shoulder.
A young couple was talking to a doctor and a police officer. They nodded along with whatever the doctor was saying, their heads regularly bobbing up and down.
Tsuna squinted.
The sensation of little feet creeping under his skin increased. His heartbeat stuttered. It became loud and heavy, a rapid series of punches hitting him right in the sternum over and over again.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The police officer saw them, too. "Isn't he supposed to stay in bed?" he called.
The policewoman answered with a scowl. "You're taking too long!"
There was an exasperated retort, something about paperwork and procedure, but Tsuna tuned it out because the couple had started to turn around and –
His Flames s-c-r-e-a-m-e-d.
They slammed into Tsuna with a shriek, clawing at the back of his mind, leaving deep gashes that bled with frantic urgency.
Tsuna stumbled back, his arm slipping free from the policewoman's hand.
Because yes, he knew those people, Tsuna realized hysterically. Knew them from the white room of harmony where the woman had stood over him with syringes in one hand and scalpels in the other. Knew them from his cell where a guard had thrown him a piece of bread with a cheerful dig in.
The female scientist walked briskly in his direction. "Good," she said. "You're here. You're safe."
And next to her, Jenoah grinned. "Hey, kiddo. Ready to go home?"
.
.
Tsuna still didn't know what he'd expected to find on the other side of that wall he'd punched.
It had crumbled easily enough, blown away by a pillar of his Flames that had left an opening big enough for Tsuna and all the other kids to walk through side by side.
This was it, right? The big escape, the moment he claimed back his own life.
And yet.
Tsuna thought that freedom wasn't supposed to look like a crowd of frantic people milling around the ruins of a crumbling mansion engulfed in flames. That it wasn't supposed to smell like smoke, to sound like the shrill calls of dozens of sirens blaring into the night.
Tsuna hadn't even set a single toe Outside, and already everything was wrong.
He'd stood there for a moment, stunned, surrounded by five equally shocked children.
And then they'd been seen.
A man in a black uniform with bright yellow lines running down his torso and legs had looked up. He'd been holding a big hose and spraying water at the flames when his eyes had fallen on their little group. Tsuna remembered the way the man had blinked, once, twice, the surprise on his face put in sharp contrast by the blinding lights of red and blue flashing at the top of a red truck.
("Hey! There are kids over there!")
Terror.
Electrifying, raw terror.
The kind that drove all thoughts out of your mind, that destroyed reason and logic, that buried the human deep down until nothing was left but two animal instincts – fight or flight.
Tsuna's choice had been made in a split second.
He'd run.
Through an endless forest of towering trees that smelled of rain and smoke. Deeper and deeper still, the thud-thud-thud of his steps slamming onto the forest floor echoed by ten other tiny feet as the other kids took off after him.
People had followed them, shouting and yelling.
Their group had scattered.
Tsuna hadn't stopped. He hadn't looked back, hadn't slowed down even when everything had grown quiet around him and there'd been nothing in his ears but the thunderous drums of his own heartbeat. He'd kept going, and then, later, when his whole body had started to hurt and his feet were leaving blood everywhere, he'd walked. Limping, stumbling, half crawling.
Stars had winked out of existence, swallowed by hues of pink and purple as daylight crept over the horizon.
By morning, he'd made it out of the forest and onto a winding road that weaved in and out of the tree line. It'd stretched out farther than the eyes could see, and Tsuna had followed it, numbly, stupidly, until something large had rumbled to a stop next to him.
Doors opening and slamming shut.
Shocked exclamations of oh, honey, and what happened to you, and don't worry, I've got you.
The warmth of leather seats against his skin. A lurch. The long-forgotten sensation of moving even though he was sitting. A car engine vibrating under him as beyond the window trees became a blurry picture.
Tsuna had been too exhausted to fight. To talk. To care.
A water bottle had been pushed into his hands. Food, too. Dry and sweet and crunchy.
And then sleep.
And then the hospital.
And then this.
"Tsuna-kun, wait!"
And now Tsuna was running again.
He risked a look back.
Jenoah and the policewoman were hurrying after him, so close he could see their faces. She looked worried and confused. Jenoah was grinning.
Tsuna pushed himself to the limit, pumping his arms and legs as hard as he could, as if every single one of his nightmares were nipping at his heels – and then he ran faster. Down big streets packed with more people he'd ever seen in his life, toward a big crossroad where cars flowed to a smooth, rumbling halt. The sun had started to set some time ago, but apparently the impending night wasn't intimidating anyone. Street lamps lit up with electricity, turning into shining beacons that emphasized how terrifyingly huge Outside was.
Tsuna's side was in agony, ablaze with a side-stitch so intense he felt like throwing up. His feet pounded against the ground, throbbing each time they slapped over cobbled stones. Sweat beaded his forehead, sliding down into his eyes and burning like hell.
(Right. Turn right!)
Half blind, Tsuna abruptly veered off course, throwing his body in another direction. The violent change of pace sent him careening in a group of people. Startled cries rose all around him as his shoulder rammed into a woman's side.
"Hey!"
Tsuna fell, hard, and immediately picked himself up, ignoring the string of curses that followed in his wake.
His Flames guided him, steadily leading him farther and farther away from the main boulevards, deeper and deeper in a maze of small side-streets and narrow alleys. The rush of people around him lessened, becoming a mere trickle where it had been a roaring river minutes ago. Stucco walls and high iron gates towered over him as he ran, drawing shadows and monsters in the dark.
(Left, now!)
Tsuna exploded out of a back street onto a large city square.
Cars and bikes whizzed by. Imposing buildings of carved stones and soaring peaks loomed all around. The evening crowd jostled for free space as people waited for traffic lights to turn green.
Tsuna stilled, a deer caught in headlights, wheezing and panting.
The water they'd given him earlier roiled in his belly. Bile flooded his mouth, bitter and familiar.
A yell behind him.
Voices that called his name – Jenoah's voice.
Tsuna darted away, melting into the crowd.
There was a high chain-link fence on the other side of the square, and beyond that several railroads came out of a big building. Long metallic machines – look at the board, look! That's a train – arrived and departed, smoothly gliding along rail lines.
Tsuna followed the fence toward the entrance of the tall building.
He stayed half bent, keeping close to the ground until he'd slipped past the automatic door and stepped inside the train station. People walked around him, towing bags and suitcases behind them, their heads tilted up to read the information boards hanging on the walls.
(Over here. Quick.)
Another nudge of his Flames, a whisper at the back of his mind, and Tsuna shuffled toward the revolving door humming beside a newspaper stand.
It opened onto a large parking lot that smelled of diesel fumes and hot asphalt. Buses strategically stationed along the sidewalk displayed signs on their windshields. Roma, and Florence, and Nice, France.
A little bit ahead, several people were queuing to get on a red bus. They were all pretty old, with greying hair and wrinkled faces. A buzz of excitment surrounded the group as they waved flyers and maps in the air. The driver was busy shoving luggage into the cargo area, the heavy bay doors hanging open above his head.
"Excuse me?" A woman called, and the man walked over to answer her questions.
Tsuna stopped. Hesitated.
A flare of heat in his veins.
A push of nownownow.
Tsuna leaped into the luggage compartment before the driver came back. He clambered over heavy suitcases and bags, hurrying toward the depth of the bus's belly where he squeezed out of sight behind a particularly large bag.
The driver returned. The luggage doors slammed shut with a thunderous bang. The engine rumbled to life a moment later and the bus started moving
Tsuna stayed still, shaking all over. Adrenaline started to leave his system. All the aches and pains he'd been ignoring during his escape started to make themselves known. His feet hurt, his lungs were burning, and his head felt like an overripe fruit about to burst open.
But he was free.
Tsuna closed his eyes and was asleep within seconds.
.
.
The blond woman slipped her hand in the crook of her husband's elbow. He murmured something in her ear. She laughed and let herself be lead away. They walked out the front door, heading for the black SUV parked in front of the Chinese restaurant where they'd had dinner.
Tsuna watched as they climbed inside the car and drove away.
He was tucked in the narrow space where the wall fence of an old house met the roof of its car shelter. It was small, and uncomfortable, but it had the advantage of providing an unencumbered view of the street below.
Tsuna tracked the car all the way to the end of the street. It turned right, and then there was no else in sight. Tsuna focused back on the restaurant.
A server was locking the front door, and three others could be seen through the windows, sweeping and moping. It took them thirty minutes, but eventually the lights went out in the dining room and the staff spilled out onto the sidewalk. They split out, some opting to walk home while others used bikes or scooters.
Tsuna didn't move, his eyes never straying from his prize.
He'd come far during the last couple of weeks, had learned so many things. Outside was fast, loud, and big, so much more than what he'd remembered. The city he'd landed in after sneaking into that bus was absolutely huge. It had a pulse, like a heartbeat, and thrummed with life from sunrise to sundown.
Which had quickly turned into something of a problem.
Because daylight?
It was dangerous. With it came people and curiosity and the alarming realization that skinny children in dirty clothes didn't go unnoticed for long. Attention was dangerous, the very last thing Tsuna wanted, ever, because that way lay the polizia. And hospitals. And doctors. And Jenoah.
(Tsuna was never going back. He wasn't.)
There was a certain amount of familiarity to be found in that situation though. In fact, the unwritten rules of Outside weren't all that different from the ones that had applied back in his cell.
Be small. Be smart. Don't be heard, don't be seen.
So.
Tsuna watched. He watched, and he learned.
Where to hide. Where to find food. Where to get water. That it was safe– or at least, relatively safe – to come out and scavenge the scraps and bits he needed to survive during the hours between dusk and dawn, when the rest of the world was asleep.
Like now.
The street was completely silent. Even the constant sound of traffic had faded away.
Tsuna grumbled.
Hunger twisted his stomach, a constant companion that never went away these days. Still, he didn't move – no matter how tempting it was to clamber down from his hiding spot and make a beeline for the big dumpster at the back of restaurant.
Not yet.
Tsuna brushed a finger against his throbbing cheek.
A reminder.
A warning.
(Don't get confident.)
As expected, something soon shifted in his peripheral vision.
Someone – a man, tall and thin – came out of the shadows and lumbered toward the restaurant. Even from where he was, Tsuna could make out the badly patched up brown of the man's shirt, the way his pants were too big and too long for him. His face was dirty, half hidden in the artificial light of the street lamps and shadowed by a rugged beard that was several weeks long.
Warily, the homeless man peered through the windows – no one was inside – then quickly disappeared into a narrow alley beside the restaurant.
Tsuna sighed.
Last night, he'd gone straight for the leftovers thrown away by the restaurant staff, only to discover the hard way that some people weren't very fond of sharing.
("Scram!")
Tsuna grimaced, massaging his face. Yeah, he'd wait a little longer before trying his chance out there.
His belly disagreed. It let out a loud complain, cramping painfully.
Tsuna told it to shut up and tough it out.
(Why?)
The Flames slumbering in his chest suddenly stirred. They warmed and spread, running through his limbs like flowing lava, lingering in his head where exhaustion throbbed like a drum, and in his mid-section where hunger had buried its claws deep and hard.
A voice echoed in Tsuna's mind, promises of no need to wait, and no need to be afraid, and no need to hesitate.
Tsuna closed his eyes.
And came face to face with a monster.
It burned brightly, an ocean of Flames stretching out in all directions. Eyes of deep orange stared at him. Fangs formed of liquid fire glinted and glowed. The Flames let out a crooning sound, coaxing and playful and let me out.
"No," Tsuna whispered.
Because he had yet to see a single person displaying a hint of Flames out there, and the last thing he wanted was to stand out and be seen.
The monster growled, flashing an impatient orange.
"No," Tsuna repeated.
Because he couldn't get out of his head the scene of a wall of fire snuffing out a tiny Sun's light. Because some nightmares were never meant to be unleashed on the rest of the world.
The monster snarled, hurt flaring bright and hot.
(Not my fault!)
Tsuna shoved himself away, pushing and thrusting his Flames deep down. They fought back, swirling and snapping, struggling to break free, but Tsuna wouldn't budge. This wasn't a fight he was willing to lose.
It felt like an eternity had come and gone before Tsuna opened his eyes again. He blinked, sleep clinging to his eyelashes, and realized that dawn was almost there.
The street below him was still empty and quiet.
Another loud rumble came from his stomach.
Tsuna quietly scrambled down from his hiding place and darted across the street.
Time to see what scraps he could dig up for breakfast.
.
.
A flash of black and blue.
Metal glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.
A radio buzzed with a faraway voice, echoed by a cloud of static.
Tsuna flinched, recoiling deeper in the shadows of the parking lot. Something moved behind him. He glanced back. A cat was sitting atop the stucco wall on his left, looking down at him with feline disdain. The look it pierced Tsuna with was sharp enough to draw blood.
Tsuna frowned at the animal, then went back to peering around the rear tire of a shiny grey car.
(There.)
His eyes collided with black pants and blue shirts.
A little hiss of fright left his mouth.
He hunkered down – smaller, smaller, don't be seen – and watched as a couple of uniformed men headed down the street. Their boots shone brightly under the harsh glare of the sun, big and heavy. There was a gun strapped to the men's sides, and one word was written in capital letters across the back of their jackets.
Polizia.
Tsuna bit his lip, lowering himself until he was virtually lying on his belly. The uneven pavement made of small bricks was uncomfortable and a sharp rock dug painfully into his side – but better safe than sorry, right?
("So. Your parents will be here soon. How cool is that?")
Tsuna didn't move for another long minute, his only companion the cat sitting imperiously on the wall at his back.
It had been a risk to leave his hideout during daylight, but hunger doubled with thirst was a powerful motivator. Tsuna had thought he could handle it, that he could cope with crowds of harried workers and fast traffic, that he could snatch an early diner and hurry away without getting caught.
Ha.
Running into the polizia had been a very jarring wake up call.
Tsuna shuddered, hugging his middle.
Such a close call. Too damn close.
But now it was time to stop shaking like an idiot and move.
Tsuna tentatively stepped out from behind the car. His target – Little Trinci – stood right there across the street. The couple of trash cans behind the bakery sometimes contained sweets and pastries no longer fresh enough to be sold – which, for Tsuna, was a real gold mine.
Tsuna wavered, torn between the desire to hide, and the visceral need to eat.
Hunger won in the end.
Hunching his shoulders and rounding his back, Tsuna quickly shuffled along the sidewalk.
The trick to avoid unnecessary attention, he'd learned, was to move fast and without hesitation. To dart from point A to point B without giving anyone the time to fully register his presence.
Tsuna made it to the narrow alley along the bakery without trouble.
He nodded to himself.
So far so good.
Little Trinci occupied the ground floor of a three-story house tucked at the end of long and winding street. It was small and pretty, made of small bricks, arched windows, and red tiles. It also doubled as a coffee shop, one that attracted a steady flow of costumers all-day long.
Tsuna carefully crept past the door that led into the kitchen and soon saw his prize – a neat row of three trash cans lined up along the wall. Tsuna opened the nearest one. Dark plastic bags met his gaze.
(Food.)
Hunger roared to life.
Tsuna stood on his tiptoes, heaved himself on the metallic edge, and started digging.
A pile of something wet and slimy. A layer of used kitchen paper roll. The peeled skins of green vegetables. A couple of apple cores, brown and squishy from the heat. He held up one of those in front of his face and squinted.
Good enough.
Chewing, Tsuna dug faster, his stomach greedily snatching up anything he choked down before immediately clamoring for moremoremore.
"So you're the little shit that's been lurking around like a rat for the past week, huh."
The voice was so unexpected that Tsuna almost toppled head over heels into the trash can.
His Flames flared, weakly, barely a whisper where weeks ago they had thundered in his mind.
(He'd pushed them too far, had ignored them too much.)
A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and jerked him backward.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Tsuna found himself dangling in front of a middle-aged man.
The stranger was tall and strong, with pitch-black hair and even darker eyes. He watched Tsuna with a frown, his lips pulled thin in a tight line of cutting disapproval. His expression grew fiercer as his eyes flicked over Tsuna's appearance, taking in his dirty clothes and the filth that covered every inch of his skin.
"Don't you smell like a bag of rotten roses." The man held him away, nose scrunching up. "Damn, when was the last time you grabbed a shower?"
Tsuna squeaked, tittering between mortification and terror. The tips of his feet skidded uselessly over the pavement as he struggled to break free, the collar of his shirt threatening to strangle him.
The man gave him a little shake. "Stop that."
Tsuna found his voice. "I'm sorry," he yelped, voice pitched high and shrill. "I'm sorry, I won't come back, please, I'm sorry!"
"For fuck's sake," the man growled, "give the dramatics a rest. Come on."
And Tsuna was promptly dragged into the three-story house behind them. He fought harder, kicking and punching, but none of his hits were effective. The man hauled him down a short hallway and walked in a medium-sized kitchen that was full of pots and containers scattered on a long counter. The right side of the room was entirely occupied by three ovens and two large refrigerator doors.
The man kicked a stool from under a table and dropped Tsuna on it.
"Don't move," he warned when Tsuna started to stand.
Tsuna froze, eyes wide, his pulse battering at his ribcage.
The man busied himself in the kitchen. Cupboards and drawers clanked and banged in the ominous silence, and then the grumpy stranger came back. He pushed two pieces of pie and a glass of milk in front of Tsuna, and ordered, "Eat."
Tsuna gaped at the offering.
It was whole, unspoiled, and didn't smell as if it had spent too long out in the sun.
And, just like that, alarm bled into Tsuna's mind like an open wound. It was a familiar feeling, a well-oiled paranoia which had nothing to do with his Flames. There was something entirely human to that panic, something that was all muscle-memory and gut-feeling.
That pie had to be poisoned.
Right?
Or maybe drugs had been slipped in the milk.
Perhaps the man was just waiting for Tsuna to fall for his tricks and cart his unconscious body off to another cell.
Tsuna tensed.
His legs burned with the need to move, twitching again and again as he prepared to bolt. A voice babbled in his ears, half hysterical, repeating that he was alive, that this was Outside, that this was Before, and that he could not – would not – get caught again, especially not for doing something as stupid as accepting help from someone he'd never met.
But.
His hands were shaking again.
And sometimes yesterday his head had started to spin if he moved too fast.
He was just so hungry.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Tsuna grabbed a piece of pie and shoved it into his mouth.
It was cool, sweet, and sort of melted on his tongue before he'd even started chewing. Flavors exploded in his mouth. His taste buds came alive with a shriek of surprise, not used to anything but the strong and sickening taste of food long past its prime.
Tsuna gagged, tears gathering in his eyes, and swallowed.
"Slow down," the man grunted. He was leaning on the opposite side of the table, arms crossed over his chest. "You're gonna be sick, and that'll piss me off if you make a mess and force me to clean it up."
Tsuna didn't listen. Nothing mattered but soothing the gutting emptiness twisting his stomach in painful knots.
Soon, the glass of milk was half gone and there no pie left on the plate. Tsuna's belly ached. He could swear he'd never felt so full before, and it was the strangest sensation.
That didn't stop him from picking the crumbs of crust off the table and licking his fingers to polish them.
Movements besides him.
Tsuna's head whipped around.
The man had taken a phone out of a pocket. His fingers were dancing over its small screen, quick and precise.
Tsuna tensed. "What – what are you doing?"
"Little pipsqueaks like you ought to be in bed by now," the man answered, voice gruff.
No.
(No.)
Ice washed over in Tsuna's veins. His hands balled into fists.
"A-are you calling the police?" he croaked.
The man paused long enough to throw Tsuna a dark look. "I don't know how you ended up in my backyard, but I sure as hell am not keeping you around to dig in my trash. That shit isn't good for business."
Tsuna swallowed thickly. "Don't."
The man ignored him.
("Look. I think that's your folks over there.")
"Don't," Tsuna heard himself say again over the thunder of his heartbeat. "I'm not going back."
"Tell that to the poor sucker who's going to pick you up." The man put his phone against his ear and glared. "Not my problem. Now shut up and drink your goddamn milk."
("Hey, kiddo. Ready to go home?")
Fear and anger crested in his chest, filling his mouth with a sour aftertaste that felt like cold iron and white rooms and chairs and restraints –
Tsuna jumped down from the stool. "I'm not going back!"
"You –"
"I'm not!" Tsuna shouted.
And violent Flames burst around him.
The man froze, his scowl melting into a slack-jawed look. His phone slipped from his hand. It hit the ground with a sharp sound, bouncing twice before it stopped under the table.
Neither of them paid it any mind. The man gawked at Tsuna, watched how his hands burned with furious Flames, how his eyes glowed with a hint of the fiery monster hiding inside.
"Shit!"
And then he moved.
The man snapped around, pulled a shower head from the faucet at the sink and aimed. Water exploded forward, and suddenly Tsuna was drenched and soaking wet. He spluttered, half choking on a mouthful of cold water as it ran down his hair and his face. The Flames burning around his hands crackled, flickered, and finally fizzled out. Water couldn't put them out, not really, but the surprise of being sprayed in the face was enough of a shock to break through Tsuna's temper.
"Fuck me sideway with a fucking fork," the man barked. He aimed some more water at Tsuna's hands even though his Flames were gone. "Shit."
Tsuna stammered, "Wha- what –"
"Are you trying to attract the attention of every Flame Active in a ten-mile radius, you little punk? Are you that dumb?"
"F-flame Active?" Tsuna shivered violently, dripping cold water on the floor.
The man stared at him.
He picked up his phone, stabbed a finger at its screen, and shoved it back in his pocket.
"Fucking mafia," he cursed.
.
.
"I swear this is better than watching the cable. God, Ottone, what would I do without you in my life to keep things interesting?"
"Cut the bullshit –"
"I'd wither and die of boredom. So thank you, for keeping me alive and entertained."
"None of this is fucking funny!" Ottone – the testy man who'd attempted to drown Tsuna in Little Trinci's kitchen – snapped. "Dammit."
Undaunted, the blonde woman – call me Cinzia, honey – let out a small snicker.
"Oh, but it is," she said, then deepened her voice to a surprisingly low baritone. " 'I want nothing to do with them. I'm done with eating their crap. The whole damn lot of them can go to hell. This is my line in the goddamn sand, and shit are gonna fly if they cross it.'"
Ottone scowled, dark eyes glowering death at the woman. "Shut up," he bit out. "This isn't the time or place for being a smartass. Make yourself useful of get the fuck out of my way."
"Yes, yes." Cinzia waved a hand in front of her, looking entirely unbothered by the towering brute. "You're very scary and I'm quaking in my boots. But." She smirked. "I told you so."
Ottone snarled, teeth biting at empty air.
Cinzia cackled.
She pulled a stool from under the massive table at the center of the kitchen and said, "Go on. You've got calls to make, right?"
Ottone stood still for a moment, looming over her smaller frame as if to emphasize how aggravating this whole situation was.
Tsuna ducked his head, trying to stay unnoticed.
The man looked Very Annoyed, and being around adults who were so clearly displeased tended to end badly – especially when it involved people who had hands as big as diner plates and thick muscles cording their arms and shoulders.
Ottone didn't take a single step closer to Cinzia though.
He merely jerked his chin in Tsuna's direction and growled, "Make sure the brat doesn't burn down the goddam place."
"Aye, aye, sir," Cinzia saluted as she sat down. "Your desire is my will, always and forever."
"And why the fuck do I even bother with you?"
"For my charming personality, of course. And my stunning looks."
"It isn't for your brain, that's for damn sure.
"Hey!"
Ottone's glower reached an all high level of Pissed Off. "Shut. Up."
Cinzia smiled. Unlike Tsuna, she didn't seem worried about her continued survival. Her hands flew up in a clear sign of surrender, then mimed locking her lips together and throwing the invisible key away.
Ottone's eyebrows twitched.
He grunted, cast Tsuna one last look of deep irritation, and stalked out of the kitchen. The bright red door that lead into the front shop swung shut behind him.
Silence descended over the world like a heavy blanket. The hum of the refrigerators and electric appliances suddenly became twice as loud. The sound of traffic was muted, muffled by thick walls.
Tsuna held very still, clutching the edge of his blanket. Cinzia had wrapped it around him after she'd burst into the kitchen less than ten minutes ago. Ottone had still be cursing a blue streak, and Tsuna hadn't yet recovered from his near drowning when the blonde hurricane had swept into the room with all the elegance of a charging bull. Tsuna had almost went into cardiac arrest. And that was before the woman had startled cackling like a maniac.
Cinzia stretched lazily. Glanced at Tsuna. And giggled.
Tsuna edged away.
"Don't worry." Cinzia pointed a finger in the direction Ottone had gone. "Ottone's just a grumpy old bear who's all bark and no bite. You're going to be fine."
Tsuna kept his lips sealed.
Cinzia side-eyed him, eyes glinting with curiosity. "How old are you, honey?"
Silence.
"Seven years old?
More silence.
"Eight? You can't be more than nine, right?"
Tsuna didn't say anything.
Cinzia waggled her eyebrows. "Oh, I see how it's going to be," she said. "Going for the whole tough-nut-to-crack thing, are we? Well, I've got news for you, buddy."
She leaned over, poked him in in the side, and Tsuna almost leaped out of his skin.
Cinzia grinned. "I'm stubborn as hell. And I can be patient."
That sounded dangerously like a threat.
Tsuna stiffened.
Instinctively, he glanced to the side. The way to the smaller door – the one leading to the narrow alley outside – was clear. Earlier, Ottone had blocked that exit with all his pacing and cursing, but now –
"Don't even think about it."
Tsuna startled, looking up.
Cinzia was staring at him, her chin resting over steepled fingers.
"You're staying right here until Ottone comes back," she said. Her tone was firm, confident, and brooked no argument.
Tsuna gaped.
How had she known –
Cinzia huffed. "Honey, you're a lot of things, but apparently subtle isn't one of them."
Which.
Alright, fair enough.
And also – ouch.
Her words hit the bullseye, ramming into a sore spot without even knowing it was there.
How many times had Nero told Tsuna his face was like an open book?
("Don't smile so much! It's creepy and it makes you look like an idiot!")
Tsuna shut a mental lid on that memory, hard.
He flicked a look at the way out again, mind racing. For all of Cinzia's words, there were two stools separating them, and Tsuna could be fast. He had a chance, he could be out there before she caught him and then –
A hand bopped him on the nose.
"Stop it," Cinzia said lightly. "Whatever plan you're cooking up, it's not going to work."
Tsuna glared, pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders.
Cinzia's gaze softened. "Believe it or not, but we're keeping you here for your own good." She grimaced. "A little Sky like you? On the streets? Alone? That's not going to end well for a lot of people."
A Sky.
That word again, and not used to describe the weather. Tsuna frowned. Once before, a boy had called him that, back in a place of fire and dead bodies and shattered walls.
("Oh. You're a Sky.")
"What's a sky?" Tsuna asked.
Cinzia smiled smugly. "A-ha. He does talk!" A heavy pause. "Wait. You don't know?"
The list of things Tsuna didn't know was probably longer than either of them could fathom. And it was fine by him. Tsuna was willing to wait and learn.
But this – it sounded serious. It felt serious.
Cinzia gave him an incredulous look. "You don't? But that's – that's –" She cut herself off. Took a deep breath. Pushed the half-full glass of milk toward Tsuna. "Drink."
He did.
"A Sky," Cinzia started, speaking slowly as if she were searching for the right words, "is precious. Something rare and treasured. Some people spend their lives waiting for one without ever getting a chance to Harmonize. You guys are like – like mafia VIPs on steroids."
That … didn't explain anything. At all.
Except for one crucial thing.
Tsuna blinked, his lips forming a small oh of understanding. Relief flooded his system. Muscles that had grown tense with wariness loosened. He relaxed, just enough that it no longer felt like his spine would snap if he moved wrong.
A misunderstanding.
This was just one big misunderstanding.
Ottone's violent surprise, Cinzia's curiosity, even that boy's startled interest back then – it had all been caused by some sort of stupid mistake.
Because he wasn't a Sky.
Even though Tsuna still didn't know what a Sky was, the description Cinzia had just provided made them sound very important. The kind of important that was protected and looked after, that didn't know what it was like to be cold and hungry, that hadn't once slept on the floor of a dark cell with a battered body and bloodstained clothes.
No.
Tsuna wasn't, had never been, and would never be, important.
And so he wasn't a Sky.
He just had to find his voice and explain.
"Are you okay?" Cinzia was watching him closely. "You're sort of looking constipated right now."
"I'm not a Sky," Tsuna blurted out, loud enough to be heard from across the street. He winced, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. "I'm not," he said again in a softer voice. "I'm really, really not. So, um …"
So please let me go, he didn't quite manage to beg. Please. Don't make me go back.
Cinzia tilted her head to the side. "Honey, I promise you, you are a Sky," she said dryly. "There's no mistake."
"But –"
"Your Flames," Cinzia cut him off. "You've got Sky Flames so strong and so pure that even poor little ol' me felt you from three floors upstairs."
Um.
What?
Tsuna's mouth dropped open. His fingers slackened, and the blanket fell in a heap on the floor.
But he didn't care.
Because this – this was about his Flames?
(His monster?)
No. Impossible. Not even mentioning the fact that it was the first time someone Outside had brought up Flames around Tsuna – this was impossible. It couldn't be right.
Cinzia took in Tsuna's stunned expression, and rubbed her forehead with two fingers. "Baby Sky," she muttered under her breath. "Must not traumatize the baby Sky."
Tsuna barely heard her. She had to be wrong. She had to be.
His belly twisted. The pieces of pie he'd wolfed down earlier started to feel like lead in his stomach. Indignation filled him, a furious spark of dark resentment.
"Anyway." Cinzia straightened on her stool. "You're just going to have to trust me on this. Sooner or later, people are going to look for you – powerful mafiosos who won't stop, even if you bat those big Bambi eyes of yours at them and say pretty please."
It was unfair – so very unfair – that even Outside, freedom still seemed like worlds away. Something distant. Unattainable and untouchable.
"By the way." Cinzia cast him a curious look, an intent gleam appearing in her eyes. "Was it your limit earlier?"
Tsuna gave her a blank look.
Cinzia clicked her tongue. "Earlier," she repeated. "Was it your Flames' limit? Or was there more you weren't letting out?"
For a moment, Tsuna didn't move, his brain grinding to a numb halt.
He thought of the voice in his head. Of a power so vast it felt like it had no beginning and no end. Of the way it had engulfed a body and kept coming even as it feasted on flesh and bones.
Tsuna had never completely let it out. He'd never let go.
Were the Flames that had erupted around his hands earlier the limit?
Ha.
Not even close.
Cinzia was still staring expectantly at him.
Tsuna gave a tiny shake of his head.
The blonde let out a heavy breath. "Yeah, definitely not gonna be easy," she mumbled.
And the tiny spark of defiance that had ignited within Tsuna's chest suddenly flared into bright, hot-red anger.
"Why?" he asked, shaking. "Why are you saying that?"
This was Outside, dammit. This was his new beginning – Nero's new beginning – and no one, absolutely no one, was allowed to ruin his friend's dream.
Not even Tsuna himself.
Tsuna glared at Cinzia, feeling a familiar burn start in his eyes.
"I'm not a Sky, and I don't want people looking for me!"
Panic settled in, a dose of adrenaline rushing in its wake.
"I'll hide," Tsuna babbled, breathing hard. "I'll hide and no one will know and the – the mafia– " Whatever that was. " – won't find me and –"
"Tough luck," Cinzia cut him off, looking a little sheepish. "That ship has already sailed."
Tsuna paused, thrown off balance. "W-what?"
Cinzia pointed a finger toward the front shop. "The grumpy asshole over there?" she said. "That's Ottone Nougat, little brother of the Vongola Storm Guardian. And, really, you don't get any more mafia than that."
.
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Hi guys.
Here's chapter 4 of Hiraeth.
Thank you for the reviews, and see you next chapter :)