Is this... really all he can do?
["-never remove that helmet."
He looks at her through thin slats in unfamiliar cold metal and knows better than to question, but he-]
Is this... what all his training, all his talk of protecting people... has come to?
[Reeling from the newfound knowledge of his origins, he can only continue to listen raptly as M*rg*n carefully cups his face and whispers, "And one day...you will defeat the King and take his-"]
He can't... let Mukuro win. If he does, he'll lose... everything.
["-ever, I will not recognize you as my son nor will I give you the throne."
The blunt edge of his f*th*r's words stab into him with cool disregard and M*rdr*d's joy and admiration bleed from the wound-]
He... won't lose. Not... again.
["...Fa-ther,"
He reached out to touch the King with his blood-soaked hands at least once, but not even that wish was granted as he fell.]
Never again.
There's a bright, searing flash of light, and a roaring, white hot flame engulfs Tsuna from head to toe before sinking into his skin moments later, his battered body visibly unchanged despite the light show.
Indeed, outwardly, nothing has changed at all. Inwardly, things couldn't be more different.
Clarity comes suddenly and with swift understanding, and though there are questions that need answering (how and why did this happen, and why is he only remembering now?), though his memories from right before his death are a hair's breadth away from spilling over and drowning everything (unacknowledged to the bitter end), there are other, more pressing matters to attend to.
His eyes snap open, a vibrant orange, and no one moves or speaks, wary as he shifts to his hands and knees and then slowly, carefully stands, painfully aware of every bruise and aching limb. His back straight and shoulders squared, he sends out a pulse of flames, and unlike before, his nondescript hoodie answers.
Instantly, gleaming, metal plates and smooth, durable cloth spread out from his torso and over his entire body, transforming everything in one fell swoop. Where once there was a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers, now there is a suit of armor unmistakably crafted for a knight.
Tsuna is the only one who recognizes it as something more. His old armor may have taken a new form - deep orange cloth instead of blood red and the Vongola Family crest now engraved on the backs of his hands - but it's nonetheless a reassuring and familiar weight (as much as it is sign that he will never be enough-).
His helmet wraps securely around his head, ever imposing and commanding, as much a cage as a form of protection, and even now, he hesitates pathetically before he dismisses it in a spark of light.
His father is dead, and his kingdom - his birthright - was brought to ruin with his own two hands. There is no longer anyone who will recognize his filthy blood or his inhumanity.
"You continue to surprise me, Sawada Tsunayoshi," Mukuro interrupts the strangely heavy silence with a mocking smile. "It seems you've finally managed to figure out how to use that mysterious item of yours. I must say I'm disappointed, though. Here I thought it was supposed to be some grand weapon of sorts."
Tsuna brusquely shoves aside the despair and guilt and turns to face his newest opponent, the child with the glowing eye. By the time his arm swings up to level with the boy, Clarent is pointed unerringly at his throat, a clear challenge. He smirks, answering confidently, "Oh, I've got a grand weapon alright, and I'm gonna show you by shoving it down your throat, you damn criminal!"
As Mukuro momentarily falters, stunned, Tsuna chooses not to waste the opportunity and charges. It's his first real battle after his greatest defeat, and he's determined to prove himself!
End Notes: The title comes from "Hate Me!" by MASN.