Reborn was very sorry to say, but Tsuna would not be coming home today.

"He was my only. My every."

He tells Nana first. He wishes he hadn't needed to, but she deserves to know. He has shot down strangers in front of their children, but somehow this is so much worse. Of course, Nana being the kind and loving mother she is, asks how he is as he enters the house. How Tsuna is. Reborn tells her: Fine. Dead. The order doesn't matter anymore. It feels the same. Nothing's making sense. How dame could the kid have been?

Dead. Dead at fourteen.

Reborn hadn't even fought him. There was very little drama. He was just... dead. He supposes that was all it was- all it would ever be. It was death. The simple transition from life. A stolen life, he corrects himself. Had he stolen it?

And just how many lives has he stolen?

Nana is crying, and he blankly told her, "Sorry, mama, there's blood on my hands."

She howls, and raises her head to face him. It's like he's peeled off a plaster too fast, and she looks agonized. Tsuna was her constant. Her doe eyes are sparkling with tears, and Reborn looks away first. They were too like his. "Then wash them."

He isn't sure how, and he can hardly remember how he dragged his empty body up the stairs, but he ends up outside Tsuna's room. The door is flung open, and his last shriek of 'hie!' hangs lifeless in the air. The bedroom is so very alive. It's everything about a teen mafia boss in one little room. His school books and comics, his orange-themed clothes scattered everywhere. There's a little table for when the guardians visit- the only clean object in the room. Reborn knew how Tsuna washed and polished that boring little table, focusing on it as though it meant everything. Maybe it had. Tsuna always left the door ajar in lazy welcome.

Reborn closes the door.

Reborn was very sorry to say, but Tsuna would not be coming to school tomorrow.

"Dishonor means nothing to me like he does."

A Boss's guardians are known to, in almost all circumstances, die long before he will. In protecting him, in helping him, or in fighting for him. It was a disgrace for a Boss to lose before such. Gokudera seems to understand that.

"Jyuudaime?" His breath had caught, brows narrowed in confusion. He was in front of Reborn immediately, but his expression was not that of a brave guardian- but rather of an orphaned child. "No, it can't be!"

"You're joking, right, Reborn?" Yamamoto asks, his carefree smile strained. "It's not really funny..."

He doesn't know what to say. What he can say.

"Ne, at least he won't fail any more tests," Reborn manages, because it's true. He'd have liked to see a passing grade in the papers Tsuna had drowned in.

Gokudera is horrified. He doesn't think it's funny either. Reborn sort of agrees. He's no longer just in front of him, but rather directly in his face... or, well, a meter or so above his face. "You bastard!" He's yelling, but Reborn can only watch his eyes. There's a fiery resolve in them that he recognizes all too well. He comes back to focus, and Gokudera is still shouting, or maybe now he's just crying. Reborn isn't sure.

Yamamoto is frozen, tall form slouched. His dark hair fell in his face, hiding his countenance. Reborn thinks he's broken him. "Tsuna," he mutters to himself, and his voice is hoarse and worn. Reborn always knew that the happy guise was mere falsehood, but somewhere along the way Tsuna had become Yamamoto's smile. Thanks to such, the glowing grin could never be fake.

Yamamoto doesn't say anything now, and nor does he straighten to face them. It's like he was glass all along, and Reborn has shattered whatever Tsuna had fixed. He excuses himself, leaving the stupefied children to mourn... He needs to wash his hands.

Reborn was very sorry to say, but Tsuna would not be inheriting Vongola anymore.

"I lost him before I could possess him."

Mukuro is in shock. He's not like Yamamoto and stares Reborn down with his wild eyes.

"I didn't think you cared," Reborn says, but what he really thinks is 'I know you did', and he hates himself for that.

"Idiot," Mukuro hisses. He doesn't argue now, neither accepting the accusation nor denying it. His expression has been changing at an unnatural, rapid pace- from confusion, to panic, to melancholy... He looks numb now. Like Reborn has exploited a crack in a pretty vase, reducing it to shards.

Reborn ponders how many murders he'll hear on the news tomorrow, and whether he'll be one of the culprits. He needs a new job, after all.

Mukuro doesn't think like that. He's gone, is plastered across his face. He's been slowly backing up since he had heard the news, and now uses the wall for support. A kicked wolf. He'sgonehe'sgonehe'sgone...

"Why does he have to matter?" Mukuro asks him, and though his voice is as sardonic as he can tone it, it still cracks. Reborn can't answer. He understands the question perfectly. Why did one foolhardy child have to mean something? They had both killed fools just like Tsuna. Why is he any different? He was cute, but they've both slaughtered the sweet. So why does he matter? It echoes, resounding through his mind like a solemn confession. To what? Reborn doesn't know.

He replies with perfect silence, and an empty sob wracks through the teenage murderer's too-thin body. He glances around the abandoned building, and wonders how Mukuro's host and friends will survive. Tsuna provided food. Tsuna provided shelter. Tsuna provided friendship. Tsuna provided meaning.

Mukuro feels dead, and Reborn understands all too well.

Reborn was very sorry to say, but Tsuna would not be late, Hibari-san.

"He better not be."

Hibari is nearly the hardest to speak to, as he seems unable to accept death. It's all a cycle to him- the weak salvage what they can, and are devoured by the strong, who are killed by their betters. Death is nothing to Hibari Kyoya. Reborn doubts he can change that.

He explains everything to the prefect; how Tsuna fallen and never got up. How he had shot him with the Dying Will bullet in the hopes of enthusing him to rise, and how Tsuna had just smiled his goddamn perfect smile. How Reborn had listened for a heartbeat and found none, and how he had called Shamal and even Colonello because he knew they'd be the quickest. He tells Hibari how it was too late, and that Shamal had told him, in a tone grave as death, that he'd collapsed from exhaustion, and only wanted rest when Reborn shot him. How Shamal told him, shakily, that it was probably his fault.

Hibari is silent, before saying monotonously, "The herbivore better not to be late tomorrow."

Reborn leaves.

Reborn was sorry to say, but Tsuna would not be joining your club.

...

"I can't believe you. I won't."

Reborn takes it back. Sasagawa Ryohei is a hundred times harder to tell, because he refuses to believe Reborn. He doesn't have the respect for him that Gokudera and even Hibari begrudgingly do. Reborn doesn't have the heart to dress up as Master PaoPao, and the simply seeing the hat is making him nostalgic. Ryohei extremely doesn't believe him, and would extremely appreciate if he stopped joking.

In fact, the Sasagawa boy demands to see the body, stubborn to the core. Reborn agrees, because he wants to go too, if only just to feel something. They arrive at the hospital, and Shamal is sleeping outside a locked door. Reborn isn't bothered to find the key, and chooses to simply shoot the knob and hope for the best. It misses, and Reborn can't conceive why. As he stands on the boy's shoulder, dazed, the kid takes action. Pumped up on trepidation, Ryohei punches a hole through the door, and forces the doors open from the inside. Reborn isn't quite sure how, but he puts it down to resolve. What happens next could bring anyone to tears. Ryohei rushes to his boss's side, and falls to his knees. Like a lonesome dog, he howls out Tsuna's name- "Sawada!" He repeats the loud mantra, shaking on the dead boy's limp shoulders.

Reborn isn't just anyone, but the scene still forms a bottomless pit in his stomach. He feels heavy, as Sasagawa Ryohei calms himself, resting his head against the metal hospital bed. "You should joined the boxing club, Sawada. It would have been extreme."

The boy's eyes reiterate the feeling, adding silently that, maybe, Tsuna would still be alive if he had chosen to join. Reborn agrees. Dame-Tsuna was too lazy, he needed more exc-

On second thought, Reborn needs to wash his hands again. Right now. How are they still dirty?

Reborn was very sorry to say, but oniisan would not be there to play anymore.

"Dame-Tsuna can't be gone! I'll make him go boom! if he dares leave the great Lambo!"

Lambo doesn't believe him either, but Reborn's not bringing a baby to see a corpse. He stays taciturn until Lambo starts crying, and he doesn't even tell him to shut up.

Reborn is kidding, of course he tells Lambo to shut up. "Baka, be quiet," he tells him. "He can't hear you anymore."

"He's not dead," the child argues, eyes watering. His fists are clenched at his sides, and he hasn't even reached for an explosive yet... if you don't count his waterworks. "He's not allowed to be! The great Lambo-san does not permit it!"

"Baka," Reborn repeats, with a little more feeling. "You can't control some things." In fact, you can't control anything, but Reborn believes this would snap the boy.

It's too late though, as Lambo begins wailing. "Must... stay... calm," he bawls, and Reborn thinks that this is the first time his tears have meaning. He cringes.

Moments later, a Lambo ten years maturer collapses on the floor, puling and whimpering. He has recognized the scene immediately.

"Stop crying," Reborn orders, and a blinking, wet-eyed teen stares up at him. "Stop. Now."

Lambo doesn't, and even when five minutes have passed, the crying remains endless. He gets angry, somewhere within all the sobs, and screams at Reborn. It's his fault. It's his fault.

It's his fault.

"In peace will you rest, under the ground, where the orchids grow

Remembered and loved, the pain of loss has yet to go

You rescued so many, yet couldn't be saved

The Valentine bouquets you deserved, left on your grave

Years will pass, but our tears remain the same

We weep for the brave, and recall the dame

You discarded so much: your peace and your dreams

Allowed all you knew to be torn from their seams

Cared for your friends, forever offering a smile

Preserved your resolve through every trial

You were the sky, and loved all that you'd hold

And when you fell all became cold

We look up only to see a colorless grey

Reborn was so, so sorry to say."

Scarlet leaves stains, Reborn realizes, even when it hasn't been spilled.

He still has bloody hands. He knows he'll never truly clean them.

A/N: I felt like I was writing Bambi's Mom's death in reverse.