Title: And Then You Came Back

Rating: T (for now)

Genre: Angst, Romance

Pairing: 10YL!6927, with a tiny bit of 10YL!1827

Summary: What if Tsuna had been the only one sent into the future?

Disclaimer: I do not own or gain any profit from writing this story. All characters used belong strictly to Akira Amano. Thank you.

"Gokudera-kun."

He turned around, steel-colored eyes anchored on the strong, calloused hand sitting atop his shoulder. He traced the arm to its owner, nodding when he found the face of a somber-looking Yamamoto, whose usual care-free attitude was no longer present. Yamamoto's face was set with a sorrow so deep that Gokudera could feel its stinging effect, already adding to the grief and turmoil currently battling in his heart. Gokudera gently shrugged off his fellow comrade's hand as he straightened his crisp black Armani suit and fumbled for his small briefcase planted on the floor.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go?" Yamamoto asked quietly, a hint of desperation tapering at the end of his voice. Gokudera turned his back, shaking his head slowly, tendrils of silver hair slipping past his eyes and brushing across his forehead. He blinked once or twice, welling away the lump of dread in his throat that had stealthily started to swell.

"I have to see him alone," Gokudera countered coolly, stepping away. "One last time."

Yamamoto's eyes followed the retreating figure of his grieving friend, until the dense forest of trees finally swallowed him up.

He walked through the forest gracefully, carefully, the tears at the back of his eyes steadily prickling forth. Once or twice, he had tried to shake them away by either wiping at them with the back of his hand or blinking his eyelids rapidly, but they always came back.

Polished shoes trampled over the mossy earth, Gokudera maneuvering his way through densely compact thickets and sliding past gnarled tree branches. Frequently, a lone branch or snippet of bush would catch at his suit, but Gokudera continued forward, nothing deterring him from reaching his destination.

'What am I even doing here?' he thought frantically to himself, fingers tightening around the brass handle of his briefcase. His eyes were beginning to sting and his throat was starting to constrict, making it hard for him to breath properly. 'I shouldn't even be here! He shouldn't be in there!"

So many conflicting emotions were rushing across his mind that Gokudera was finding it hard to control himself. After so many years of training both his body and mind, he was suddenly realizing that he felt very similar to how he used to think, when he was still a brash young teenager trying to impress his boss. Sadness, remorse, grief, and then finally a raging, spiteful anger pummeled their way into the Storm Guardian's thoughts, fueling him like a raging fire.

A memory of smiles, laughter, wide brown eyes and messy chestnut-colored hair. . . Those memories were gone now, non-existent, as if they had simply evaporated into thin air. He couldn't believe it, how someone so caring, so strong, so impacting could be gone; and all in a matter of minutes. Over the past couple of days, he'd forget the situation and run to his Boss's office, ready to give a report or pay his respects, until he remembered.

Oh, and did he remember. He remembered until he couldn't walk properly. He remembered until his mind was clouded with so much agony and sorrow that he couldn't stand upright.

'Oh,' he would think, staring at the empty desk littered with unsigned documents, as if he had never left. 'Oh.'

He was no longer there.

He would never be there.

His boss, his family.

His friend.

'I should have been there! I should have been there to protect him!' he raged, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. They never spilled. 'Fuck those bastards, fuck them all -- .'

He stopped, his body tensing while storm-colored eyes scanned the premise frantically. He had heard something, a voice. It had been very faint, but he had heard it nonetheless. Wrath and vengeance clouded his mind, making him almost see white, his fingers clenching at his briefcase until his knuckles had lost all their color.

'Fuckers!' he raged, his feet moving of their own accord. 'Who the fuck's here?! No one should be here! Not while he's . . .'

Gokudera lost his train of thought, his breathing becoming ragged as he pumped his legs forward. While sprinting, he leaped over hazardous boulders and crunched over fallen leaves, sweat starting to trickle at the base of his collar. He was feeling a bit too warm, but he didn't care – all he cared for was the safety of his boss, his tenth: his Juudaime's body.

Tree after tree whizzed past him, tufts of leaves and sharp twigs scratching at his face as he surged forward, his destination growing nearer by the second. And when he finally reached it, he stopped.

Frozen.

He was frozen.

He stared across at the casket in the center of the clearing, so elaborate and fine to detail with the Vongola insignia labeled proudly on the top, and dropped his briefcase. Wailing screams and frantic shouts pounded out from the coffin, muffled though they were, but Gokudera could hear them clearly, too clearly. He was frightened at best, who wouldn't be after hearing piercing screams come from a coffin no less, and at first he didn't know if he should go over and investigate or stand his ground. He didn't know what to feel. Should he feel angry?

Of course, obviously this was some sort of joke, some morbid prank at raising his hopes only to have them plummet and fester until they altogether withered away.

The piercing screams were growing louder by the second, ringing through Gokudera's ears and making him wince. Finally, after a moment's worth of thought, Gokudera hesitantly walked over towards the casket and stood over it, chromatic eyes wide and laced with turmoil.

Without a second thought, he leaned down and placed his hands on either side of the casket's cobalt lid, and lifted it.

His stomach dropped.