There was sand in the bottoms of his shoes that evening when he returned home, so close to dinner that Nana was less than pleased.

Guilt plain as day.

Only a half mumbled "sorry," can suffice, though he really doesn't want to explain he'd returned to the park. And discovered the sheer curiosities of not only the seesaw but the sandbox. He's never touched sand. Only in a few books, only in a rare movie or when his classmates would talk about their summer vacations at the ocean was he aware it existed altogether.

It wasn't pleasant.

But lately it had been more for the fact of his quiet friend. Acquaintance,

She hardly spoke. But he rather liked it that way, only unnerved at the softness of her voice the rare times she did. It was never like that at home. Excluding Nono. He wishes for a letter more than ever, checking the mailbox every day. Nana lets him.

Does he no longer love me?

He wants to ask but he knows Nana will only cry. She's odd by all means but he wishes she won't be sad. Lonely.

Selfish of himself to pursue the love of another while there is already someone more than willing to provide it. A pretty rock tucked into her palm because it seemed as though something she'd like.

Nana says Halloween is close. Tsuna dislikes scary things.

Dislikes training days which are every other day. Reborn talks of flames and dancing colors that have the power to protect his future famiglia.

Heavy, the weight of those words are no trifle. He isn't quite sure what it means. Rings and curses. Reborn tells him that Gokudera is his Storm. He doesn't know what that's supposed to mean between climbing a tall oak and running halfway across Namimori to improve stamina.

"What if I end up disliking them? Or they don't want to-"

"Have faith."

Always, always, always.

Reborn tell him this like a broken record and Tsuna almost wonders if those are the only words he knows.

Why did it have to be specifically him after all?

"How would you know if I have those uh- flame things anyway? I'm not blood related."

They're sitting on the living room floor. More a case of Reborn sitting, Tsuna nearly face down in the carpet for all his oddities.

"Speak up, I can't hear you with your face full." Though it is obvious he heard well enough.

Tsuna props himself on his elbows. Bleary eyes of an exhausting day. "I don't carry anyone's blood, why does the inheritance fall on me?"

Grown adult continues flipping through channel after channel. The only sound that echoes the room is their soft breaths mingled with constant clicking of the remote.

"Technically, flame type isn't entirely based on blood. Though it's usually the case. Anyhow, no one really knows if you're not really blood related. You just happen to be the only qualifying heir, dumb Tsuna, which is why you need to get your ass in gear."

Sneaky hands snatch the lone fedora right off it's resting place on the coffee table. Much to his surprise it's big, Reborn doesn't seem to care, only slightly eyeing the handling of his trademark item.

Tsuna can't seem to keep the brim from falling halfway down his face. "Still not fair. It's not like I chose to be born with whatever the fuck. I'm ten anyway so,"

Scoots exactly six times back for fear of being smacked.

"Life isn't fair, don't be lame."

"You're lame."

Tsuna bolts for the stairs, barrage of pillows and rubber bullets following him all the way to the top.

He left the house with a picture book tucked into his bag.

Nana noticed but said nothing. The smile on her face told too much.

Tsuna neither dislikes nor likes school. It was more of a mundane task he knows he must endure every day. Regardless that never stopped fights provoked by those who would rather pick at him to test a rumor or two.

Recently, they never happened often and he can't but wonder why.

For all it's worth he wants to believe it was due to the teacher present. But even he has a limit to suspending disbelief. It was peaceful.

Gokudera has not yet returned over the course of several weeks. To say he is worried is not entirely untrue, but never expressed.

But a picture book and some leftover grapes from his snack are enough to coax Nagi into speaking a bit more today. She has a pretty name he tells her, it fits.

"I like… birds…" Nagi tells him this slowly, decisively. So they spent the afternoon bird watching with a pair of plastic binoculars he happened to find in a cereal box some months ago.

Writing down whatever they saw on the back of old test papers. Nagi was in charge of the drawings seeing how the only thing he could draw was a semi cloud looking cloud.

And she laughed at the silly looking finch he'd drawn for her.

"Do you miss them?"

He looks up from coloring in a swallow that Nagi had so nicely drawn.

"Miss who?"

She looks embarrassed suddenly. Eyes dropping to her scuffed up shoes. "Uh.. I-I'm sorry I just have the feeling… you're always, um- missing someone terribly so- if that's not true…"

In all honestly Tsuna can hardly hear as her voice fades quieter and quieter.

"Oh, I miss my home sometimes. I guess," He invites her to come color as well, holding out a crayon from the half crushed box.

"Home?" She makes careful not to bump into his coloring spot. Lest the crayon be jarred.

"Yeah, I'm from Italy. Not by birth, but…. Yeah."

She nods quietly. Handing him a second crayon. "Yeah."

Nagi is the quiet companion in which he wanted.

Their project relapses into a comfortable silence, mittened hands work fast with the occasional pause for a grape. Something bad might happen, he doesn't really know.

Tiny hands attempt to construct a crumbling world.

ADVANCE THE PLOT DO THE THING ADVANCE THE PLOT DO THE THING