Smile.

… while your soul dies.

Smile.

… while your heart withers.

Smile.

… while your world goes down in flames.

Ashes raining down on our heads, crowning us as kings of loss. Of emptiness. Of loneliness.

And the flames burn brightly along.

Ashes, ashes raining down on our heads, mingling with our tears into blackened tracks.

Do you feel yourself drowning? I do.

I can taste it in my mouth.

And now, I can say that I do now it, this bitter dry taste.

… ashes, ashes, ashes …

… raining down on our bowed heads.

Sunken eyes. Bloodshot, glazed.

Hollow cheeks. Gaunt, emaciated.

Chapped lips. Silenced, dried.

It began with Sawada Tsunayoshi, like so many things in their lives tended to …

… and, most unsurprisingly, it also ended with … or, more correctly, because of him.

Their dreams.

Their hopes.

Their happiness.

At first, it had been perfect. Picture perfect even.

He had given them his everything.

This small brunette boy, casually thrown into a violent world he couldn't have differed from more obviously if he had tried, expected to survive and thrive while he was being treated as nothing more than a lamb guided along to its slaughter. But he had preserved, had overcome every trial in his way, had succeeded were no one expected him to and so easily won their respect, won everyone's respect. He had been their one constant.

Belonging. Recognition. Perspectives. Desires.

From his word, through his actions, by his heart, they had it all, and through their willingness to adhere, to assimilate, to fight against the best and come out victorious against all odds, they gained only more, always more. More influence. More wealth. More prospects. More respect.

A brighter future.

A loving family.

They had found their place in this often so cold and dark world that felt worryingly comfortable at times.

And in return, they had been expected to give themselves just as completely as he had had devoted himself to them. Their dreams. Their freedom. Their autonomy. It didn't seem like much, then. A simple price. And like children who react without thinking, taking, taking, taking, they learned that consequences don't simply go away because we wish them to do so, no. Consequences never go away. They stalk, they grow and they catch up with us. They become angry and resentful. They start to swallow you.

And they turn you bitter once you can't escape any longer.

Suffocatingly bitter.

In their minds, there was only one person to blame, only one who had even in peaceful times felt guilty for their involvement, for dragging them involuntarily into his inherited mess. It was so easy to follow his lead, to accept his self-loathing as reality and adopt it.

Sawada Tsunayoshi.

Their boss.

Their sky.

Their home.

He was the only one selfless enough to take their bitter and brutal words. To swallow their hate, their blame. And continue on. On and on.

They hated him only so much more for his resilience. For taking the abuse without complain.

Hated him for not defending himself.

Hated him for trying and failing to repent for his mistakes in such a spectacular way. It was pitiful. Any attempt of his to escape Vongola, to free them of the Mafia's bloodthirsty claws ended only in even more pain and disaster.

Hated him for still giving them his love, his acceptance and undying loyalty. It tasted bitter, knowing how much his devotion still held true.

In the end, they did the one thing all guardians knew would not merely hurt but absolutely shatter their already slowly breaking sky.

Storm, Rain, Sun, Lightning, Cloud and the Mists knew.

And nevertheless, they did it. Without as much as a glance backwards to spare.

The weathers abandoned their dependant sky.

They left.

Four years later, the scattered guardians were recalled.

Their presence was demanded. Not just required … demanded. It wasn't an invitation, not a suggestion, it was an order. One worded in no uncertain terms. And not particularly friendly.

After such a long time away from their sky and responsibilities, indulging in independence and a worry-free lifestyle, none wanted to return to the cage that once held them, but what they wanted didn't matter to the bastards that came to retrieve them, sometimes quite bloodily, back to the Villa, back into the lap of the Famiglia.

Vongola accepted nothing but compliance.

And they enforced it with blood.

The guardians made their opinions more than clear … and were met by furious unyielding silence. It was like their word, their actions meant nothing. Everything they had once done held no weight anymore, and the deep disdain their escorts let off was worrying.

Who they were …

… didn't matter.

Not anymore, at least.

It seemed to be quite the opposite.

Once reverent gazes were now filled with resentment and disgust.

None of them understood those reactions, until, one after another, the arriving uncompromising guardians were unceremoniously shoved into a familiar dreaded room.

Their boss' bedroom.

They had expected much, but not what truly awaited them between those four walls. None of the guardians could have predicted what the room held in surprise.

It was a truth they would have loved to never know, to remain ignorant off. So delightfully ignorant.

But the Vongola Decimo's guardians had been blind for too long, long enough really to sicken more than a few members of the core family, and the Famiglia had decided to open the guardians' eyes once and for all. Many believed it to be too late. Some still held hope. But there was no doubt that no matter how this game would play out, it would always be their Decimo that shouldered the heaviest burden.

The mood was sombre in the Villa.

It was finally time for the guardians to face the consequences of their defection. Of their heartless, selfish abandonment.

The devastation they left behind.

Their broken sky.

Pale skin. Translucent, clammy.

Pointed bones. Brittle, malnourished.

… so so small. Diminished, fading.

Shattered.

Actions have consequences …

.. are you ready to face yours?

Lambo choked out a sob, tumbling forwards as his legs gave out beneath him. He hit the carpet with a soft sound, shaking hands reaching out to the petite body lying so terrifyingly motionless on the king-sized bed, carefully covered by dark blue silk sheets. His lips trembled as he clasped his hands around the small man's pale hand, tears of relief and anguish gathering in his electric green eyes as he managed to catch a weak but steady pulse.

His hands nearly dwarfed the others, lying deathly white there, skeletal.

„ Nii-chan?"

His whisper seemed to shock the others out of their horrified stupor as they suddenly moved, conveying urgently but apprehensively around the familiar bed. Ryohei stood next to Lambo, grey eyes narrowed and expression tight as his hands lay on their sky's bony chest, glowing brilliantly yellow. He pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

It didn't work.

His flames didn't work.

The sun couldn't illuminate its sky.

Lambo felt desperate tears trickling down his cheeks.

No matter what happened, no matter what he had done, how he had behaved, what words had been exchanged or actions taken, Tsuna-nii was his big brother, his Nii-chan, and Lambo loved the other deeply. In the end, he loved his brother more than he was willing to lay unresolved blame on him, and it tore his heart apart to see the older man like this. No more than a mere shadow, if even that, of the man he once was. So … sick. Dying?

Damn it!

What had happened?

How had this happened?

How?

Hibari didn't say anything, standing a fair bit away, and his narrowed eyes never leaving the helpless form of his sky. His whole stance screamed aggression and violence, but the clenching of his fists seemed to suggest confusion about whether he was more angry about the situation he now found himself in, or his own involvement in its creation. He didn't know who to bite to death, and it made the tension palpable.

Chrome's head meanwhile was buried in Mukuro's chest as her slight body shook with heaving sobs, unable to look at her Boss. Mukuro's expression was unreadable, but … the air around him wavered, as if he was caught between reactions, unable to choose and go through with one or the other. For a man who had always been determined that he was no true guardian, it was certainly telling.

But it were Takeshi and Hayato who were hit the hardest by the scene presented before them.

It was only natural.

They had been his left and right hand man. His best … and first friends. His confidantes.

They were also the first to voice their dissatisfaction and abandon him, to pave the way of selfishness for the other guardians, one they were all too disgustingly eager to follow.

They were the first to betray him. Takeshi's sharp eyes were shadowed, but there was no mistaken the menacing aura surrounding him. Hayato, on the other hand, was still in shock, blinking rapidly as if to dispense an illusion. It hardly looked as if he was even doing as much as breathe.

" Jyuudaime ...", the Storm Guardian finally rasped out.

Takeshi turned to the door, a murderous glare on his face. He stared at Reborn, who leaned deceptively calmly in the door frame.

The freed Ex-Arcobaleno said nothing, merely levelling them with a blank gaze from underneath his black fedora. There was no hint, nothing that could have betrayed what the hitman was thinking.

" Who did this", Takeshi demanded, his voice raw.

It was easy to see, in this moment, just why Reborn hat called the former baseball player a natural hitman at the young age of thirteen. Takeshi's killing intent was just as potent as Hibari's, and the Cloud guardian was renowned for his bloodthirstiness.

Renown for biting to literal death anyone who so much as aggravated him.

" You."

One word.

Lambo's breath stopped.

Chrome let out an anguished sob.

Reborn stepped into the room, Leo's green gun form cocked dangerously, unmistakeably aimed at them.

" All of you."

" What … what happened?", Chrome whispered, tearful eyes fixed pleadingly on their sky's former tutor.

The hitman looked at Ryohei.

" You checked him. Tell your fellow guardians exactly what you found, sun."

The white-haired boxer gulped and took a deep breath. Lambo saw how his bandaged hands trembled ever so slightly as he spoke.

"He's severely underweight, malnutrition bordering on life-threatening. Deep exhaustion, by the circles beneath his eyes and the degree of his pallor, I would suggest sleep deprivation. There are … cuts along his arms and legs, infused with … sky flames, meaning sun flames can't heal or seal them. His body is running on the lowest setting."

Reborn clapped mockingly, his head tilted to hide his expression in shadows.

" Only too right."

" How could it come to this?"

" Don't play ignorant", the hitman scolded them derisively.

" We were away, how-"

" Exactly", Hayato was coldly interrupted, black eyes suddenly drilling into him. " You went away. You left your sky alone. Defenceless."

" He had you!"

" But he needed you."

The guardians recoiled as nearly one. Lambo whimpered.

" It's not our fault", Takeshi said calmly, but they could all hear the note of doubt and fear creeping into his voice.

" You wanted to be free."

Hayato blinked.

Reborn strode inside the bedroom, coming to a stand-still next to their Boss, and freed one pale brittle arm from the covers. Pushing up the black silk sleeves, he exposed the white skin to the guardians.

Sharp breaths were drawn in.

Obvious for the world, a long silvery line marred the white skin, beneath new red cuts that had just begun to heal.

Scars of undeniable origin.

Suicide.

Reborn looked up, his cold gaze capturing them.

" He tried to free you."

The Ninth sat behind his desk as Decimo's guardians filtered in. He had his hands steeped before his aged face, amber eyes burdened. Seldom had he looked so grave in the face of the next generation.

Coyote Nougat repressed the desire to comfort his old friend as his sky let his gaze wander over Decimo's guardians. He knew well what was about to happen, and he knew that Timoteo wouldn't allow any weakness to surface. He had been too long on the top to lose face now.

The young adults looked pale, their faces were drawn and shocked.

Coyote couldn't fault them in this, at least. If he had seen his sky like this, he would have been of no better. He would have destroyed those responsible, something quite difficult, he supposed, if you yourself were the one to blame.

" Kyuudaime-sama ...", Decimo's Storm finally spoke up, his voice raw with emotion.

Timoteo motioned for him to be silent, and the young storm had at least the grace to know when to shut his trap.

His old friend took a deep breath and looked steadily at Decimo's guardians, his steely gaze never wavering.

" You decided to follow Tsunayoshi. You decided to accept the Vongola rings, and with them, your position as Tsunayoshi's guardians and members of Vongola. You decided, knowing the consequences, to follow our way of life."

His voice carried through the room, keeping the children captivated as they listened with obvious dread as the condemning words flowed over the older man's lips.

More than one paled even more. The young lightning started to cry.

" It wasn't your right to simply decide that you don't want to follow your sky any longer."

And wasn't that the kicker.

Guardians who abandoned their sky were worth less than dirt, they were the scum of the mafia world, a selected group of individuals who deserved a special place in hell. And to abandon a sky like Decimo …

Skies came in many varieties. Not all were good, and not all were worth being followed. Some were broken, and some were twisted. Some abused their guardians and some would be better off dead than allowed to influence others to the degree harmonization normally allowed. But they weren't talking about any sky. They were talking about Sawada Tsunayoshi.

And Tsunayoshi was a wonderful sky. He wasn't a perfect being, he had flaws and he never tried to deny them. He never played his guardians or lied to them to make them abide his will. Indeed, Tsunayoshi was the very best kind of sky: He warmly welcomed all, accepting and tolerantly. He took them with their quirks, he supported them in their decisions and he put their desires and wishes before his own. He didn't ask for either obedience or protection, he didn't take it as granted. He was thankful for the friends he had and considered them to be his family.

This was not merely guardians abandoning their sky.

It was a family betraying the one that made them into one in the first place.

It was a disgusting disgrace.

" You had a responsibility, and you neglected it", Timoteo continued, his deep voice gaining a harder edge. " Tsunayoshi did everything he could to free you. He tried to expose Vongola, and he only failed because he wasn't willing to sacrifice your futures. He tried to manipulate, to intimate and threaten; he did everything for you. And you left him alone in a world he was just as if not even more of a stranger in then you. Among your generation, Tsunayoshi is the one who belongs the least in this life. And you threw him to the crows."

Coyote couldn't help but nod along.

As much as it pained him, it was the truth. Decimo had been a civilian, and amongst his generation, he was one of the most innocent. It was a shame that they had tainted someone so pure, and a wonder that he still retained the best of his qualities.

" Reborn showed you how this ended. He showed you the scars."

And how Coyote wished to not know this part. How he wished it to be a lie.

But he had seen them himself, had seen the gaping slits, the red blood painted across pale skin, pooling on the ground ...

He had been there, and the image was burned in his mind.

" We found him, nearly dead, and it took everything Reborn and Brow Nie Junior had to keep him alive long enough for more help to arrive, his flames were actively fighting against their efforts. You have no idea how long it took us until he was healed, and even longer until Tsunayoshi was allowed to be alone. He was under suicide watch for over three months. And there is only one reason why he was let off in the end."

The guardians were listening rapidly.

The lightning had succumbed to his sobs, seeking comfort in the female mists arms while the young woman herself was held by her older male half. They looked shaken.

The sun looked beyond sick.

" I struck a bargain with him."

Coyote remembered those days before, when they couldn't leave Decimo alone without fearing for his life. How Timoteo had been forced to portray the disapproving stern leader to save his honorary grandson's life. It had been hard, and his old friend had doubted himself more than once, but they had agreed with him: Compared to what the boy had been through, their distaste of their own actions was nothing.

" His guardians' safety, their happiness and independence for his compliance and continued survival. He sold his soul to someone he had come to see as a devil to keep his friends save. In my opinion, you were not worth it."

The Ninths storm guardian took a certain pleasure in seeing their reactions.

They were stunned, ashamed, frozen.

It was deserved.

" Tsunayoshi accepted the terms, and for the last few years, he survived more than he lived. There are few he has let close, and none managed to truly calm his flames and sooth the wounds your defection has caused. But the most damaging is that he is of the opinion that he himself is at fault."

Something that wasn't true, and never had been.

Tsunayoshi did the best he could with a terrible situation. The thought of forcing a civilian child into their world, at the top of a dynasty build on blood, death and crime, never set right with Vongola, and having gotten to know their heir only hardened that feeling.

But Decimo had done the best he could, with mistakes along the way that he always paid the price for and learned from.

Something his guardians didn't seem to grasp.

The fact that the young sky still blamed himself for others actions and accepted their damnations as just was infuriating.

" He has spoken you free of blame and condemned himself."

Coyote saw how Timoteo's words hit the youngsters, how they flinched and trembled and tried to avoid his sky's intense stare.

" We all know that this is your mistake. After his collapse, I was the one to recall you, and now I'm the one to give you your own deal: Either you finally grow a backbone and become what you promised to be, or I will destroy you. I don't reward cowardice."

And this was why they had been recalled. This was the crux of the matter.

Vongola could patch up, they could force their heir to barely survive, but nothing and no one short of his guardians could heal Tsunayoshi completely.

This was their last chance.

Everyone's last chance.

" We didn't know what we gave up when we joined", the rain guardian spoke hesitantly, his eyes locked on the floor. " We were children."

Timoteo hit his desk and stood up. His face was set in stone.

" Tsunayoshi was the second youngest. You had no problem blaming him for your mistakes", he replied coldly.

Sky flames permitted the air thickly. Timoteo took a deep breath.

" There is still time. Yet."

And with those word, their attention, hopeful, fearful, unspoken, uncertain, had been recaptured.

" He is my grandson. My heir. Make no mistake in this, between you and him ..."

Timoteo's eyes were chips of eyes.

" … you can only lose."

It wasn't a matter of losing in the future.

Coyote looked at their faces and knew that the children were all too aware of these themselves.

One way or another …

… they had already lost.

" I thought you were different."

The Varia's second in command stared coldly at the young swordsman before him, the daylight glinting of his silver blade. The little shit turned around, weary surprise on hid sharp features.

" Squalo ..."

But Squalo had no inclination to listen to any drivel the other was about to spew. He was a bonded rain himself, and the idea of betraying his sky ...

" You told me that you took up the sword to protect your friends."

The shitty rain guardian flinched back, something akin to pleading written all about his face. Squalo scoffed and spit out.

" Why are you still holding it?"

" What are you doing here?"

Shamal shook his head. The boy hadn't change one bit. Still as foul-tempered and quick to act.

" Can't I look after my cute student?", he asked lightly.

Hayato gave him a glare and looked away again, the bud of his cigarette glimmering red as he took a deep drag.

But Shamal wasn't just a doctor, he was also a hitman, and as such, he saw how the boy's hands trembled before he stuffed them into his pockets. Seeing the results of his cowardice hat hit the storm guardian harder than he tried to let on.

" Shamal, don't. Not right now."

But the older hitman had no sympathy left. Not even for the boy he had trained and raised so long ago.

" It hurts, doesn't it? To realise exactly how devastating the consequences of our mistakes can be."

Hayato snarled angrily at him.

" I don't want to talk to you."

Shamal huffed, but it lacked its usual amusement.

" And I don't care", he commented, just the barest hint of a sharp reprimand noticeable. " Just as you didn't care for Decimo."

Hayato turned around, his pale face colouring in rage.

" That's not true!", he snapped.

" Yes, it is", Shamal countered calmly, walking over to Hayato and plugging the cigarette from his lips before he stepped on it. " And you know it. You know that this is your fault, it is the reason why you try so desperately to hide your anger. You know that the only one you can truly be angry with … is yourself. I have only one question for you, Hayato."

The boy took a deep breath, his eyes troubled as he looked finally up at his former mentor.

" What is it?", he asked lowly.

Shamal levelled him with a calm serious look.

" Are you done running away?"

Sometimes, realising your mistakes hurts.

But if you realise them at a time when it still makes a difference, no pain is a price too high to pay to right your wrong. The guardians learned that lesson harshly.

But they had still time. At the moment their sky was broken, he was bent, but he wasn't gone. And as long as he was still in this world, as long as they had a chance to correct their mistakes, to save him and themselves, they would do so.

It would not be pretty. It would not be nice.

It would be ugly, and hurtful, and a disaster.

But disasters were a part of life, and they could return from this disaster.

All they had to do was to realise where they went wrong.

The rest would not be easy, but doable.

There was still a long road ahead.

Xanxus didn't say anything as he sat next to Tsuna's bedside.

Like he had done for the last few weeks.

Ever since the Mini-trash had collapsed, Xanxus had taken to visiting him each day for a few hours. They had become amiable in the last few years, and Xanxus glowered heavily as he thought about the last days before Tsunayoshi's collapse. He should have noticed just how run down the Mini-trash had become.

He had thought that they … may have been on their way to a slightly different relationship. After his attempted suicide, Xanxus had given him the riot act and they had become surprisingly closer, going so far as to become something resembling friends-with benefits. Xanxus hadn't been blind to how neglectful the other sky had treated his own well-being, how hurt and still self-destructing he was. But he thought that they had tempered it, that under the Vongola's and Varia's watchful eyes, the Mini-trash would preserve. It seemed that he had been blind to just how deeply his guardians abandonment had hurt the baby sky.

No more.

Not on his watch.

No matter how their relationship would play out …

The Mini-trash was his.

And no one touched his Tsunayoshi.

~The End~