Title: "People Like Us"

Summary: They all came from different pasts, from different backgrounds. They were broken, shattered, or close to it. And when everyone, even those they had loved, had given up on their existences; he came into their lives with an outstretched hand. "After all, people like us have to stick together."

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the amazing characters of Katekyo Hitman Reborn! I own the plot of this story, though, but I do not own the original KHR!

Chapter Title: "Remember to Begin"

AN: Hey this is Tora, for the next few chapters I am posting word for word what Kingprochan originally wrote. This includes the above message.

Awake or asleep? Was he silently dreaming or quietly observing the nothingness around him? The darkness provided no answers. Whether he opened or closed his eyes, he was met with blackness. Nothing. Blank.

Was anything real? Was he truly alive? Or was he buried, deep down into the unforgiving earth, forgotten as he decade? Thoughts that only create themselves when you have too much time on your hands filling his mind to the brim. They clawed and scraped along his skull painfully, searching for an answer he couldn't come up with.

He had too much time. So much that it was painful. It had been so long since anything had happened. So long that he couldn't tell if even those hazy, different memories were real. Had they been placed there to fool him? Or had he lived them, even for a brief moment?

"I've been surrounded by this darkness for so long. Have I already died of solitude? Or am I still hanging on by a thread?"

Was this what eternity was like? Living so long that life just seemed to blur? All of the colors; blues, reds, greens, yellows. Had they just become a giant blob of black that obscured his vision as everything passed by? As time left him behind?

Something plush and soft was underneath him, warm from his body heat. He was always lying there. Day in and day out, even though he couldn't tell. His limp and numb body stayed still in the same spot, burning at times and freezing at others. Sometimes a single part of his body would be warmer or colder than the rest.

There was never anything going on in his life in the dark. No colors, no movement, no smells. Just blank spots that should have been filled with images. Sometimes he would hallucinate scenes but no picture would appear. Just static, like some broken memory.

"I don't like the dark," he murmured to himself, not even hearing his own voice. "Nothing is here. I'm alone…By myself to rot for eternity…"

"Time passes by without a trace. Learn this."

Another part of an old memory, haunting him. He could tell that it was from a long time ago, so long that it was beyond his comprehension. Static once again filled his mind, painfully reminding him of his misfortune. Just one image, just one clear sound. That was all he needed to be aware of his existence.

"You are my heir…you must learn of my troubles, my burdens. But before that, you must learn of my upbringing."

A new fragment? He listened to the piece of conversation with interest. He hadn't heard it before. It was a new memory, resurfaced from the waves of his mind. It sounded important for an odd reason. Like it would tell him the truth behind the darkness that encased him.

"Tell me more," he whispered hopefully, pleading in a question. His voice told that he was desperate, that he needed answers. He was on the brink of insanity.

"You shall be secluded to only your mind from this day, my dear child. When the time when you remember this conversation in the never-ending darkness is the day you will be set free."

Set free? Would he finally break away from the chains of his confinements? From the prison of the darkness? "Please," he begged, "I understand. If this was the troubles you were talking about…the burdens, then I understand!"

"When you remember will be the only time I will ever hear you beg, understand? The boss must be strong. And if I hear the horrible plea in your voice past that day, then you will be cast back into the true hell-your mind."

The voice was broken into incomprehensible pieces of speech, destroying the memory of truth. The silence was brought back again, foreign after hearing another being's voice. Something cold slid down his cheek, what he believed to be a tear. "Please," he called out again, voice hoarse and broken, "I can't stand this anymore."

There was no return of a voice, but instead something warm hit his face. The darkness that surrounded him turned to a dark peachy color, then to a bright red and he continued to look onward. Soft voices and sounds echoed within his ear, something foreign to him. Then as he blinked his eyes as he had before, they opened.

The pitch-black darkness that had once been his only view turned into a dark gray color, with different shapes and objects joining in. They were darker or lighter in shades, giving off clear signals that they were real.

His unfocused brown eyes looked at his surroundings. The room he was in was small, only holding a few things of basic living. There was a dresser pushed into the corner of the wall opposite of where he was lying. It was a dark blue color that seemed like a shade of gray in the dark.

A window was next to it, curtains hiding away the outside world. He had an urge to look out of it, see if the blackness was out there. But a small crack between the two hanging cloths showed wooden boards guarding the view.

A door was on the wall opposite of the window. It was closed, clearing locked, with a rectangular slot in the middle of it. The color was white, nothing extraordinary, but unique to his eyes used to black.

His bed was normal. It had two pillows; both underneath his head, making his brunet hair puff out slightly. The comforter that was under him was a soft orange color, beautifully bright compared to the rather dull room.

"What…" he mumbled, coughing roughly after the single word. His throat was dry and scratchy, feeling as though it was on fire after he swallowed on instinct.

The door that was to his right opened suddenly. The brunet jumped at the sudden action, upper body bolting up quickly. His head hurt afterwards, all of the blood rushing to it. One of his brown eyes was closed in pain while the other looked at the person who had entered the room.

They had blonde hair and pale skin, both looking smooth and soft to the touch. Bright, calculative orange eyes stared at him like he was a piece of writing. They were looking for mistakes, errors, and things to correct.

After a few moments longer of the uncomfortable silence, the tall man smiled over at the confused brunet. It was both happy and sad at the same time, conflicting the almost painful look in those orange orbs.

"Welcome back to the world," he mumbled. The brown-eyed male on the bed nearly gasped at the words. It was the same voice. The same one that had cast him into the darkness, into the confinements of his own mind. "I hope you are capable of becoming a great boss, Tsunayoshi Sawada."