A/N: This is... very late. So, very late... I am unforgivable... but please still forgive me? Um... yeah... Sorry...

As the soft, sweet melody of the piano lulled the guests of the room into a sense of security, Bianchi slipped her way through the crowd.

"It's beautiful." She whispered softly to her younger brother, who stiffened, and ducked his head down.

"I don't want to hear that from you." He replied, snarling.

"Now, now," Pleasantly smiling as he made his way up the stairs, Tsuna smiled at Hayato. "No need to be so unpleasant to your own sister. You ought to be kinder, considering how much she loves you."

Hayato wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Don't tell me what to do." He hissed in reply.

Tsuna merely smiled in reply, not seeming to be affected by the fury in Hayato's voice. "Of course I won't." He agreed. "But we're friends, aren't we?"

"You can tell me whatever you want me to do, and I'll do it." Hayato's voice was sharp. "Just don't talk to me about her…"

Tsuna kept smiling. He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out, instead his eyes widened and Tsuna started to gasp out as though in pain.

Panicking, Hayato ran towards him…

Tsuna was becoming more clear, until he was transparent. And everything faded into darkness.

His eyes slowly opening, Hayato groggily surveyed his surroundings, frowning as his head pounded with pain. What's wrong with me? The only times that I'm affected like this are when I'm drugged or injured… Injured, perhaps? From the fight? A quick survey of his body's condition confirmed his suspicion. His body was scarred, but the proof lay in the fact that his flames were weaker, like someone had forcibly drained him of them… or like he had just tried to battle the greatest hitman in the world. Tsuna… Where was he?

Standing up, Hayato cautiously looked around, frowning slightly when he saw nobody else. Taking in the fact that he seemed at the border of a forest and town, and that he had yet to sprout wings or get dunked in a fiery lake, he assumed that he was still among the living.

Have I been transported somewhere? He wondered, fighting to gain control of the system despite the fact that his body was refusing to listen to him. The silver haired teen ran a finger along the blades of grass on the ground, and experimentally stuck one in his mouth, spitting it out when a vaguely familiar, yet bitter taste came out. Not a simulation, then. He decided. Had Reborn let him get away? Did that mean that…

No. He couldn't waste time guessing things that were completely unreasonable in the first place. Tsuna was strong… then why isn't he here? Why am I not with him?

Think… think! He was the thinker, wasn't he? There had to be some other possibility… The bullet. His eyes widened in realization when he remembered Tsuna's words, "He's breathing…". The bullet must have had some other design… teleportation? How would it get the ener— Oh #$% .

His flames! The bullet must have absorbed their flames in order to teleport them! Satisfied with his conclusion, Hayato picked himself up and headed towards the town. It would be much better to collect information from town then waste time in the forest trying to figure out how he had gotten there… although, he could do both.

But the most important thing was Tsuna, he reminded himself.

Where are you, Tsuna?

0o0o0o0o0o0

He woke in a whitewashed room, and instantly tensed. The blond man—Giotto Vongola, he recalled with a sick feeling—looked up from a book and smiled at him. "I see that you're finally awake." He noted out loud. "It's nice to see you're finally up."

"Where is the great Lambo-sama?" Lambo demanded. "Tell me this instant."

Giotto smiled at him. "You're in the Vongola mansion." He answered. "You collapsed, so I brought you to the infirmary. I was going to have you healed by my friend, Knuckle, but he said that you just seemed to be a little tired, so we just let you sleep. Do you feel better now?"

Lambo wanted to cry, because he was scared, but Tsuna wasn't here, and he didn't want to cry when Tsuna wasn't here to tell him he didn't need to hold it in. "Hold… it… in…" He whispered, hiding his face with the blanket. He couldn't let his enemy see him when he was weak. Not now… Tsu-nii, where are you?

"Hey… are you okay?" He could feel a warm hand on his back, comforting him. Just like Tsuna… but this man wasn't Tsuna. He was Vongola Primo… he was evil.

"Don't touch me." Lambo wanted to snarl, but it came out more of a shaky whisper. Why does Lambo-sama sound so weak?

A slightly surprised and—was that hurt?—look flickered over Giotto's features, but he withdrew his hand with a slightly sad smile. "Ah… yes… of course." He murmured. "Are you afraid of me?"

"Of course not!" Lambo snarled. "Lambo-sama—Lambo-sama is strong! Why would he be afraid of you?" He forced out an obnoxious laugh, "If you're nice Lambo-sama will grant you the privilege of being his underling!"

Giotto's face fell, and he asked, "Would you mind it if you didn't wear that mask? I—I don't want you to lie to me. If you tell me that you hate me and would rather see me dead than breath the same air as me, that's alright. Just don't laugh and talk like that… alright?"

Lambo could feel tears coming into his eyes. "Tsu-nii…" He whispered. "Why are you acting like Tsu-nii? You're Vongola! You're—you're not—" He quickly wiped away his tears. "Hold… it… in…"

"I…" Giotto stood up, and looked away, a pained expression on his features. "I'll leave you alone for a while, alright? If… if you want someone or feel hurt… just… call."

"Bleh!" Lambo stuck out his tongue. "Like I would call someone like you!"

The corners of Giotto's lips twitched, like he wanted to smile but couldn't do it. "Alright, then. Just know that if you want to, I'll come as fast as I can."

"Hmph!" Lambo crossed his arms and turned his head away. "Don't be stupid!"

But somehow… despite the fact that he knew Vongola was evil… he couldn't help but feel a little comforted.

But just a little. Because he was still, after all, the great Lambo-sama. And he was strong enough to not need to be comforted by anyone.

…Sort of.

0o0o0o0o0

"How's the brat?"

Closing the door behind him with a slight click, Giotto peered wearily at G. "He doesn't seem to have any injuries." He sighed. "But I think that he hates me. Or maybe he's scared of me. I'm not sure which. Maybe both." Running a hand through his hair, he wondered out loud, "I don't look intimidating, do I?"

"You?" G snorted. "Perish the thought. Alaude and the melon head, maybe. But you? Children are more likely to refuse to leave you alone than cower at the sight of you. You're too fluffy and… you."

"Gee, thanks." Giotto snorted sarcastically. "Nice to know that my image is too 'fluffy' to be intimidating. In my next meeting with other Mafia bosses, that'll be what I try to go for. 'Yes, sir, I'm Giotto. You know, the fluffy one? No, no, I'm not weak. What, war? On me? Psh… I'll be easy to defeat, because I'm the fluffy one? Oh, no, uh… I like peace. Peace is for weaklings? Er, well…' Giotto pancake. That's how my future's going to be."

G rolled his eyes. "You'll be fine. I mean, you've lasted this long being the fluffy one, haven't you?"

"The fluffy one." Giotto groaned dramatically. "I have not lasted this long being the fluffy one! I've lasted this long being… the… uh…"

"The fluffy one." G offered with a conscending smirk.

"No, not the fluffy one!" Giotto insisted with a scowl. "I lasted this long being one of the strong ones. I'm the one… I'm the one with the flames and stuff! I'm the one who everyone underestimated, but grew to respect!"

G snickered. "Sure." He replied sarcastically, his voice filled with pity. "You just keep telling yourself that."

"Wha—I—!"

"Give it up, Giotto." G muffled a laugh as he clapped a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "You'll never escape the fate of being the fluffy one."

Giotto scowled. "I'm not the fluffy one!" He insisted. "Just ask the kid. He'll tell you I'm a grownup who looks cool and respectable and—what are you laughing for!?"

G smiled as he removed his hand from it's place in front of his mouth. "Do you really want me to tell you?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Or do you want the kid to tell you that he thinks of you as the 'fluffy niichan'?"

"He doesn't!" Giotto declared in a valiant attempt to cover up the way that his cheeks were turning bright red.

"Sure he won't." G agreed as though speaking to a child. "Do you want to ask the kid yourself?"

"I—I—I will!" Giotto decided as he turned and opened the door to the infirmary (again) and pushed it open.

Their 'guest', a young child with an afro wearing cow print, turned around in surprise and froze when he realized that he was caught red handed at trying to escape.

Giotto gaped. "You're trying to run away?" He demanded. "Am I seriously that bad!?"

The young child—his name was Lambo, wasn't it? G remembered it because it was so similar to Lampo's, that brat—scowled, his features darkening as his eyes narrowed at G and Giotto. "Yes, yes you are." He replied in a haughty, yet trembly voice.

G burst into laughter.

Giotto glared at him, before turning back to the young boy and wondering, "What's so bad about me? Why am I scary? Do I look scary? I don't think I look scary! I mean, so what if I'm a mafia boss? I'm still not bad enough that you should tremble around me and try to run away so you won't be near me!"

Lambo's eyes narrowed and he replied icily, "You're Vongola and I hate the Vongola!"

"Oh." Giotto's features fell, and he asked in a soft voice, "Did we do something to hurt you? Is there a reason why you hate us? Or did others tell you bad things about us?"

Lambo's eyes welled up with tears and he quickly swiped at them before muttering under his breath, "Vongola… Vongola took away my family. Tsu-nii…" He hiccupped and wiped his nose on his sleeve, before continuing, "Tsu-nii is constantly in danger because of those stupid Vongola hypocrites… and now he's gone, and…" He burst into tears and then fell silent.

Giotto felt his throat clench as he realized that this "Tsu-nii" of Lambo's must have been from one of those cruel mafia families that Vongola had overthrown to protect civilians… perhaps this Tsu-nii had just pretended to be kind to Lambo, or perhaps he had been desperate to support his little brother, but it seemed that he must have been killed some way or another by Giotto's family, and Giotto understood that that was unforgivable.

"I'm sorry." He apologized quietly and reached out to pat Lambo's head. "I didn't know."

Lambo drew back and knocked his arm away sharply. "You never know." He responded peevishly. "You never seem to realize how far into the deep end you've gone until it's too late."

Giotto's hand returned to his side, limp and useless. "I'm sorry." He repeated softly.

"Sorry doesn't cut it." Lambo replied angrily, but he cast a peek at Giotto and the young boy's features softened. "Well… maybe a little. Because Lambo-sama is quite merciful, after all."

G sat down. "When did this Tsu-nii of yours die?" He asked gently.

Lambo blinked owlishly at him, and then his eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Die?" He echoed blankly. "Tsu-nii never died! He's too strong to die! But he's lonely because of Vongola. They took away his old friends, family, and destroyed his life. And now, because of Vongola, we got separated from him, and he's all alone, and…" Tears welled up in his eyes all over again. "Tsu-nii's biggest fear is being alone… and I can't be with him to comfort him…"

Giotto stared awkwardly as the small child continued to cry, and then placed a hand on his head. "How about this?" He asked. "We'll help you look for this Tsu-nii of yours."

A/N: So, the real "plot" begins! I hope you like it. (Even though it's awful…)