A whole year. I have no words.

You might want to quickly refresh yourself with a couple of the previous chapters of this story, since they sort of tie in. If you're still even remotely invested.

Return Evil for Evil to Noone

Minoru Nara pressed himself frantically into the alcove he was hiding in, the reassuring feel of concrete beneath his fingers only contrasting with how surreal his situation was. No, not surreal - as he thought back to the gunshot that had sent him scrambling for cover in the first place - dangerous. His heart pounded uncontrollably in his throat.

Not that he was a stranger to the goings on of the underworld. Funding a drug habit through his two years at Tokyo university had put him in plenty of risky situations before this, after all. But this, somehow, didn't seem on the same level as the petty thieves and dealers he normally dealt with - at least, he couldn't imagine his father's lawyers sorting this one out.

Nara was a rich kid; he knew that, and it was something he'd never hidden, but tried to downplay. Namimori middle and high, the schools he'd gone to, had hardly been elite. His father was like that - he'd worked his way up from nothing - and he didn't want Nara forgetting his roots. So for uni, he hadn't struggled, and had had tuition, accommodation, bills and a small allowance paid, but hadn't lived in luxury. And he'd realised pretty quickly that his budget did not allow for regular indulgences in illicit substances.

Which is why he'd gone underground. First just to buy the drugs, with the pathetic amount he scrounged from his evening job, then, once he'd realised the money he could make as a petty information broker, to start up a highly profitable little sideline.

That was his great gift, he'd realised. People stereotyped him. In school, people had always thought of him as a good looking, well-off popular kid, and he'd naturally gravitated to others who were similar - often bullies. But he'd been the most creative, the most observant; the brains behind the operation. When he'd moved to uni, in the big city, it had been the same. He'd seen it in the eyes of his dealers and underworld associates; they saw a young, naïve, chiselled pretty boy ready to be extorted. In reality, Nara had acclimatised to his new way of life remarkably quickly, and drank in information about the people like him like a sponge.

It had been exciting, to be honest. He always had been good at reading situations - he'd been the only one who'd recognised his friend Seiko's abusive home life, or knew that their chosen victim was particularly vulnerable because he'd seen a split in their friendship group. Now, that awareness came in really useful - was a dealer in debt? To whom? Was someone double dealing for two yakuza groups? Where was the man 20000 yen in debt planning to run to? Pretty soon, Nara was one of the most successful small time information brokers in the Tokyo underworld. There was also the added safety of knowing that none of the people he was manipulating had any power behind them. His father might not give him a much money as he'd like, but he'd certainly employ his fleet of lawyers in order to avoid danger or embarrassment to the family.

That was how he'd spent his first two years of law at uni. Playing it safe, selling the right things to the right people and staying firmly away from it all himself. Then, one day three months ago, things had changed.

He'd been at one of Tokyo's more upmarket bars with a friend from uni, getting ready for a night of partying. His friend was sloshed already, but he'd still been pretty sober, when two people had walked in. They'd both worn suits, and carried themselves with confidence. Two men, the sort of lithe ones that you wouldn't pick a fight with. And not Japanese. From their olive skin, Nara would've said Southern European.

They took the table in the corner next to Nara and his inebriated companion. There were no other tables near, the bar was noisy, and Nara saw them glance suspiciously at him, obviously not wanting to be eavesdropped upon. So, naturally, he picked up the pitcher of digestif on the table, sloshed it carelessly into his glass, took a large gulp, then swung forward and spoke to his friend loudly, slurring his words. The two men relaxed, and turned back to their own business.

As his friend droned incoherently on at him, Nara listened for the conversation at the table next to them. The men spoke quickly, in a foreign language - Italian? - and he could barely pick any of it out. Just as he was about to give up and drag his friend off to the next place, one word made him stop.

Vasuza.

Then, just as he was wondering if he'd heard correctly:

Cairo Noire.

And that made him realise that he'd stumbled across a piece of information big enough to fund, not only his crack habit, but also his entire uni third year.

Two weeks ago, he'd heard that L.M.N, the largest underworld group in the area, were looking for someone. Or rather, a group of people. Apparently a new group of thugs, called Vasuza, had formed and was cutting in on LMN's territory, and not in a good way.

'Bloody vigilantes, they are,' the disgruntled LMN petty middle man had said, when Nara had happened to be talking to him. From what he'd gathered, they were acting as a stabilising force, forcing the LMN's monopolistic hand away from their more vulnerable victims, and restricting their power. Needless to say, the LMN weren't happy, and he'd heard the term Vasuza bandied around aggressively more than once.

The issue was, according to his sources, that the group was highly elusive. The LMN had never really met any of them, merely seen their influence in 'clients' suddenly debt free and the black market trade choking off. There was more than a substantial reward offered for the location or identity of any Vasuza members.

And now it appeared that there were two at the table next to him. Nara couldn't be sure, but the mention of Cairo Noire was telling. And why would Europeans be here otherwise?

LMN stood for Le Monde Noir, and, while it was a group born and grown in Tokyo and it's precincts, it had begun as the offshoot of Cairo Noire, a large Franco-Italian mafia group. They'd tried to branch out into Japan, only for the local yakuza and underworld groups to infiltrate their young networks and incite the small group to full fledged rebellion. Had the timing been different, the Cairo Noire could easily have crushed the new, unallied LMN; as it was, they had chosen to back the wrong successor in a mafia godfather battle - some very big family was choosing its ninth head - and they'd had no forces to spare on Japan. Given the Italian nature of the Vasuza group, Nara had gathered the LMN was understandably concerned that it was sponsored by or allied with Cairo Noire; plausible considering that it was far too efficacious to be as small as outwardly indicated.

So what should he do, then? He'd never dabbled in affairs this big before. Hell, he'd never even interacted directly with LMN before, just their intermediate drug dealers. Everything about this screamed risk. But, if he pulled it off, he'd have enough money to spend the rest of his uni days with everything he could want; he'd never have to touch the underworld again.

With that in mind, he excused himself, went to the bar downstairs, and made a few phone calls.

A week later and his bank account had roughly quadrupled in size. Nara had no real idea of the effect of his information; he didn't really care. Let the Vasuza and the LMN tear each other to pieces. For all of his talent at it, he had found snitching on low-lives to other low-lives distasteful.

It was about a week after that that his problems began, and he started to realise that while he had finished with the underworld, it had patently not washed it's hands of him.

It began with the break-ins. Not aggressive - that may well have been preferable - but subtle ones that left him wondering whether or not it was all just in his head. For example, he'd come home and his espresso machine would be on. There would be a washed cup in the sink. One time a single, small, neat, lone footprint graced the centre of his living room floor. After he'd started noticing this, he'd tried the spy movie tactic of laying threads over important things, so he'd know if they were tampered with. He'd come home and the grey threads he'd left had been replaced with red ones - but in exactly the same spots. That had unnerved him pretty badly. Following that, he'd started feeling eyes boring into the back of his head. He got letters in the post that were completely blank bar a tiny 'V' in an almost imperceptibly light grey in the corner. Then, a bullet hole in his headboard. In fact, he'd be almost anywhere - at uni, out - and whenever he got up briefly, upon his return a small bullet hole would grace the back of his chair or his desk. Disturbingly, no one around him had ever noticed anything, and if he pointed them out, they'd say he was paranoid and that they must have been there for ages.

His life was almost perpetually tense. He'd wake up at night in cold sweats, after being unable to sleep. He spent as little time in his apartment as possible, only to retreat back to it desperately when a bemused waiter brought him a blank envelope containing a small 'V' and a bullet casing along with his bill. He felt constantly watched and followed, and he was forced to admit that this was scarier than any outright threatening messages or casual violence. Nothing could be proved, that was the problem, and there were times when he wondered if it was all in his head. He had to admit, whoever was masterminding the attacks on him had a scarily good grasp of his psyche. Whenever he started to feel complacent and like he could cope with whatever he was being forced to undergo, his tormentor would take it up a notch. It was when loitering men in suits took to skulking round after him - on corners, on his way to uni, at night - that he started thinking that he might not come out of this unharmed. Or come out of it at all.

It was an odd experience. Nara had never felt so helpless. He was used to being the tormentor in these kind of situations – he'd done enough of it at school, after all - and the knowledge that he was experiencing an enhanced version of what his old victims must have felt was incredibly degrading. He'd never considered himself on the same level. Nara, though he was adept at hiding it, had a sadistic streak that ran beyond most; Seiko had bullied because of his anger and frustration at home, Kaneda because he felt obliged to put up a front for his family. But Nara had just genuinely enjoyed feeling above people. He still had a taste for physical abuse long after most of his classmates had outgrown it, and while he'd learnt to curb that in favour of tearing people down with words, he still actively sought to hurt.

It was a part of his personality he felt conflicted about. Innately, he liked it. Yet, by this stage, he found that most of society didn't agree with him, and there were times when he tried to hold it back. But most of the time he just felt like he was holding up a façade, to hide the difference between him and others. He was a predator, they were more like prey.

Which was why this was so deeply terrifying. He was being chased, hunted, by an individual with as subtle a grasp on the human mind as he had. It shook him, to the point where he started to believe that he really, truly, might die.

And now he was almost sure of it, as he pressed himself further into the concrete wall. How had this happened? This evening was meant to be an escape from all his worries. He'd arranged to meet an old friend from school, Takeo, in his old home in Namimori. They'd returned to the bar they'd wreaked so much havoc in in their last couple of years of high school, and talked over old memories and exciting futures together. Takeo was a nice, old-fashioned guy who was training to be a professional baseball player. Although they'd been in a class together at least once in middle school, Nara hadn't actually got to know him until their last year at school – they'd run in different circles. Takeo had run with the baseball crowd, and idolised Yamamoto Takeshi, the best baseball player in their year. But, as Takeo bemoaned to him every time they met, Yamamoto had given up baseball while still in school, and stopped hanging around with baseball players in favour of his weirder friendship group.

Not that Nara reckoned he would have gotten on with Takeo earlier, anyway. He and his friends had had their own hobbies; one of the main ones being picking on some of Yamamoto's odder associates. It wasn't until Seiko had left in the first year of high school that he'd started looking for new people to get to know. He'd missed Seiko – the kid had been messed up, but he'd been fun to be around, and Kaneda on his own wasn't quite smart enough to entertain him – and had got to know some of the other guys in his year. That was when he'd started to hide his own sadism – though the way he'd spoken to people had gotten him a couple of sharp looks at times. But Nara had always been good with words. Heck, he'd come up with the nickname 'Dame-Tsuna' for one of the dumbest kids in middle school; not exactly clever, looking back, but it had stuck.

Aside from Takeo's preoccupation with Yamamoto (obsessions were undignified in his opinion), Nara got on pretty well with him. They'd talked over Nara's uni professors, Takeo's baseball instructors, the old school teachers they'd loved or hated... They were just on the subject of what their other classmates were doing.

'...and Kaneda-san?', Takeo asked. 'How about him?'

Nara shook his head. 'He didn't go to uni,' he explained, 'he's got a job. Family company.' Takeo sighed in envy. 'And... your other friend? Seiko? Didn't he leave? What's he up to?'

'I don't know.' Nara hadn't heard from Seiko for years. To be honest, it hurt a little. 'How about Yamamoto?', he inquired, changing the subject.

Takeo made a pained face. 'You won't believe it, but he's in Italy.'

'Italy?!' Nara hadn't expected that. Why would the most Japanese person he knew be in Italy?

'I know, right? He went with all of those friends of his; Gokudera-san, Dokuro-chan... I think he said something about working for one of them – Sawada-san? The one you guys were kind of hard on in middle school?'

'Sawada Tsunayoshi?' Now that was just unbelievable. Nara hadn't really noticed Dame-Tsuna after they'd quit bullying him second year of high school, but he couldn't imagine Yamamoto working for anyone that weak. He shrugged off Takeo's second question. Bullying happened, especially if you were that pathetic. And, as far as he could recall, Takeo had called him Dame-Tsuna along with the rest.

'Yes, that's him. Such a waste of baseball talent. Still,' Takeo grinned, 'Takeshi's going to regret it when he sees me in the big leagues someday. At least I'll finally be better than him.'

And the conversation had flowed on late into the night, Takeo getting steadily more tipsy, Nara staying sober out of habit. Eventually he'd excused himself to use the toilet, which was situated down a dingy set of stairs and on a corridor that half opened out onto the abandoned backstreets. He relieved himself, and realised that he was feeling relaxed, for the first time in a month. That thought alone made his paranoia kick in, and he looked around the stall, just to be sure.

Then he froze. At the back of the toilet, there was a bullet hole. Below it, his name was written.

Words couldn't describe the jump his heart made, thudding into his throat with an almost physical impact. He backed out of the stall in panic, nearly stumbling over.

How had they found him? They were everywhere. He'd have to leave. Where, he didn't know. But he needed to run. He couldn't live like this! They'd followed him to Namimori, damn it! His father? Could he help? But then he'd have to explain the whole scenario, and... Gods, there was no good way out of this. Hell, he really didn't think there was a way out anymore.

It was while these panicked thoughts were overtaking him that he heard the unmistakeable sound of a gunshot from the bar above. Then again. Then again. Then... He counted six shots in total. With a chill, he realised that that had been the number of people in the bar, not including him. Shit. It was a good job he'd just used the loo – he was so terrified that he was physically shaking. He couldn't let them find him here.

Creeping out the door, he ran down the corridor away from the bar, only to dive as a gunshot rang overhead. Rolling to the side, he pushed himself into the alcove at the side of the corridor, and stayed there, hyperventilating. He didn't want to die like this. This couldn't be it. How was he in this situation anyway? The fear faded a little as he considered the absurdity of the whole scene: him, a high flying Tokyo law student, quivering in a filthy alcove outside the toilet of a crappy bar in sleepy Namimori. About to die. The fear returned in full force as he heard a sound – the light 'tap tap' of a person making their way down the stairs, stepping exquisitely slowly. With his heartbeat sounding ever louder in his ears, Nara waited for what seemed like an eternity for the figure to appear. Then, suddenly, it did.

'Ciaossu.'

Nara screamed.

The person in front of him couldn't be real. He made no sense whatsoever. It was a goddamn kid, for Christ's sake. He looked about 9 or 10 years old, but his eyes... Oh gods, his eyes. Nara didn't think such coldness could show itself on the human face. Blank, narrowed, and tar black, they looked down at him in derision.

The rest of the boy was just as incongruous. Tall for his age, skinny, a suit so sharp Nara winced just thinking about the cost. Exquisite shoes - handmade, Italian. A fedora that shadowed his face. Black, spiky hair and impressively curly sideburns. European, and sharply, cruelly featured. A dull black gun was held casually, pointing at Nara, who winced every time his hand moved.

He wasn't in the alcove anymore. He was in a large, artificially lit room, almost certainly underground. He was cuffed to a chair. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd got here. The kid must have knocked him out and brought him, but he'd done it so quickly Nara had no recollection of it happening. It felt like he'd teleported.

Suddenly, the boy's hand flashed, there was a bang, and a bullet smashed into a chair, a centimetre from his shoulder. Nara yelped, and cringed. He was dead. He was dead. That was all there was to it. He was never going to see the light of day again.

'Do you know who I am?'

Nara opened his eyes. The kid was looking at him with an inscrutable expression. And he'd asked a question. He gulped, his throat parched.

'No.' The dryness of his throat made his answer raspy.

The boy sighed almost imperceptibly. 'My name is Reborn. I work for the Vongola mafia famiglia. And,' - another bullet flashed into the chair, above his other shoulder - 'I'm the world's greatest hitman.'

Before Nara even had time to process the crazy things he was saying, 'Reborn' moved closer to him, tipping his chair backwards so that he was balanced precariously, with only Reborn's hand stopping him from crashing inelegantly to the floor.

'And you,' Reborn hissed, 'are Minoru Nara. 21 years old. A law student at the University of Tokyo. Son of Minoru Yuusuke, shipping tycoon.' He let Nara crash back onto all four chair legs, and started stalking around him. 'Family address is in Namimori. You attended Namimori junior, Namimori middle and Namimori high. You're a regular user of cocaine and marijuana, and you dabble in more. You've been playing underground groups off one another for money. And,' - Nara cringed as the cold muzzle of the gun came to rest on his forehead - 'your meddling cost the lives of two of our operatives.'

The end of the gun pressed harder, and Reborn's finger squeezed gently on the trigger. Nara froze, sure this was the end.

But then it pulled away, and Reborn stood before him with clenched fists.

'You should die,' he said, eyes hidden beneath the shadow of his hat, voice cold and still as the tundra. 'But you should hurt first.'

A fist plunged into his gut, feeling like the jab of a knife. Nara wheezed, and doubled over as much as he could. He thought he might puke.

Nara had barely been hit in his life. He'd stayed out of the childish brawls most of his peers engaged in, preferring to saunter over when they were finished and kick the losers where they lay. And, obviously, he only picked on people who wouldn't hit back if their lives depended on it. There was just one time that he recalled being hit so hard it had hurt (and that Makoto kid had had some serious anger management issues. It had been careless of them to drag Dame-Tsuna into a classroom like that without checking it was empty). But this 'Reborn' had some absurd strength. How could a kid punch like that? A second punch followed the first, and Nara was sure he was going to suffer permanent internal damage. Not that that should matter – Reborn had made it pretty obvious he wasn't leaving alive. But shit. Pain was something he was neither used to or ready for. And if he kept this up... Nara felt a sudden stab of self loathing. Wasn't this just how the kids he'd picked on would've felt, day after day? He wasn't like them; he was a different type of person. How could he be made to feel the same way?

Nara had always sniffed at Hibari Kyoya, and his ridiculous tendency to split the world into carnivores – himself – and herbivores – everyone else. It was true, of course, the world was just predators and prey, but Hibari had been so narrow minded in his application of the principle. If he'd just looked more widely, he would have seen that there were many different types of 'carnivore', and that distinguishing them took a little more subtlety than just beating people up. Take Nara – Nara had always taken it for granted that he was predatory. Just because he couldn't beat Hibari Kyoya didn't mean he didn't have a vicious mind.

But now... this was as pathetic as anyone he'd ever beaten up. Sure, the scenario was more terrifying, but... he had to face it, he'd acted like a 'herbivore' the whole way through this affair. And it shook him.

He straightened up again, only to rock back as a sucker punch to the face made his teeth jar and his skull buzz. There was a sharp pain in his nose, and after a couple of seconds he felt the blood flow. Reborn raised his fist, and Nara winced, unsure who he hated more in that moment, Reborn or himself.

But the hit didn't arrive. There was a bleep, not from inside the room, and Reborn blinked. 'Merda,' he muttered. He turned away, Nara forgotten, and slipped out the door. Nara took a breath, the tension slipping away ever so slightly. Then he rocked the chair. Escape seemed pretty futile, he realised that, but he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't try. Jerking his body until the chair shifted forward, he inched across the room, frustratingly slowly, until he was at the door. He'd have to try and open it with his mouth. Tipping the chair, he made himself fall forwards, accidentally slamming his mouth into the door. Ouch. His face, already tender from the hit it had received, started bleeding again. Inching up the door, he hooked his chin over the door handle, and tried to turn it. It was locked.

Damn. Nara didn't realise how much the idea of escape had given him hope. He slumped forward against the door, shaking slightly. Nothing for it, then. He just had to while away his time in here until the creepy Reborn came back and finished him off for good. Just the thought of more pain made him panic.

That was when he heard the faint sound of voices on the other side of the door. Hastily, he pressed his ear against it, straining to hear. It sounded like they were coming closer.

'….and we can offer the Cairo Noire some control over the Tokyo area.' He recognised the high, cold voice as Reborn's.

'So the Vazusa idea was successful after all? Well done.' He didn't know that voice. It was calm, and gentle, but had a gravity that gave it depth.

'Hai,' said Reborn, 'Le Monde Noir surrendered to us two weeks ago. I think the deaths actually made the takeover faster. We've begun to incorporate and restructure it.'

'Hmn.' The mystery individuals voice had gone hard. 'And the informant responsible for those deaths? Has he been found?'

Nara felt a thrill of fear run up him. Him. They were talking about him.

They were standing outside his door now, and he expected Reborn to inform the other man that he was right here. Ready to be dealt with.

But Reborn hesitated. '…Yes,' he said at last, 'we've found him.'

'Ah, really? Good.' The voice was too light, too open, to be discussing such dark matters, Nara thought. 'And Kyoya's got him? Or had him?'

There was another long pause. Then…

'No.'

'Eh?'

'I haven't told Hibari-san. I'm dealing with it myself.'

Yet again, a pause. But this time, Nara had something to ponder over. Hibari-San. Kyoya. Hibari Kyoya. Hibari Kyoya, demon prefect of Namimori, was involved with the Tokyo underworld. Hibari. The guy who would literally bite you to death for breaking the rules. Him. Now that, thought Nara, was a truly terrifying thought. And these people were… above him? On a level? On first name basis, at the very least.

But the other man was speaking again. 'Reborn. Why not?' He sounded warily disapproving, in an authoritative sort of way. 'I promised the informant was his. Or did you forget?'

It was impossible to tell Reborn's emotions from his voice.

'It's more complicated than that.' He spoke flatly.

'Really? Complicated enough to override my orders and promises? Damn it, Reborn, this whole idea was Hibari's. He trained those operatives himself. He's been clever, and careful. We'd even managed to make this a non-violent affair, and you know the distance he normally keeps from those! I promised him that the one who took the life of his men was his to dispose of. Isn't that what you'd want?'

The man's voice, which had begun sounding frustrated, now had a note of tentativeness. Reborn began to speak, but was cut off by the man again.

'I thought you approved. I thought you wanted to see more ruthlessness?'

The man's voice held a hint of bitter cynicism, sliding through the genuine uncertainty.

'You're probably right.' Reborn spoke quietly. 'This isn't even something a boss should be thinking of. It should've been dealt with. But…' There was a hesitation, and a hint of amused irony came into his voice. 'Your softness must've rubbed off on me as much as I have on you.'

'Eh!?' The other man sounded genuinely shocked, for the first time that Nara had heard. For an instant, Nara thought there was something familiar about the tone of the exclamation - but he didn't have time to think it over, as Reborn continued:

'What if…' He stopped again.

'Reborn. What is it?' The other individual had regained his composure, but sounded vaguely amused.

Reborn sighed.'The one that sold us out isn't affiliated with any groups. He's 21. He's a kid.'

'Hey,' the other interrupted, 'I'm 21.'

'Mmm, but we both know you're an adult. This one… he's a uni student, completely ignorant. He just wanted to fund a drug habit. I don't think he had any clue what he was really doing. He certainly wouldn't know the Vongola - he didn't know of me.'

There was an intake of breath as the person took that in. Nara felt vaguely affronted at the derisive look at his importance; but, his mind reminded him, it was true. He had no clue what the Vongola was. And this other man - no, boy - was only 21? Nara felt a twinge of humiliation. Two of them, the same age: him, on one side of the door, tied to a chair awaiting whatever judgement was meted out to him; the other a powerful underground figure with Hibari Kyoya in his circle. It was almost embarrassing.

The other person spoke gently, but there was a hard edge to his voice. 'Is ignorance any excuse? Don't you always tell me that 'if you make the rules, you have to keep them?' You know I'd love to judge everyone individually, but you've spent years making me overlook that. Isn't that what a boss does?'

'Hai,' Reborn said, 'Which is why I didn't want to tell you. I wanted to make the decision on my own.'

'Surely,' the other one said, 'if the decisions made require so much afterthought, I should be thinking more about them in the first place. Haven't I always wanted to be more flexible than you?'

There was another beat of silence. The other man spoke again. 'Just hand the informant over to Hibari. He's not completely ruthless – well, maybe he is – but he has his own brand of justice. And I should stick by my promise.'

Nara nearly cried in fear. Hibari had been scary enough as a kid. What the hell was he going to be like as a thug?

Reborn let out a low laugh. 'You know, when you're proposing a course of action more ruthless than mine, you should probably worry a little.' The other individual let out a breath of amusement.

Nara hadn't quite figured out the relationship between these two. It was bemusing. Most criminal groups had strong, rigid, clearly visible hierarchies, but he couldn't tell for sure whether these two were equals or whether the other was Reborn's superior. The way Reborn had spoken, it sounded like he was giving a report. Yet the conversation wasn't a formal one, between a boss and subordinate. He'd called the other man a boss, but both were showing more vulnerability than he'd have expected. Friends, perhaps? Nara, for all his skill at information gathering, couldn't pin them down.

'Maybe, in the future, you should ignore me and be more flexible.' Reborn's statement was sudden and said seriously.

'Reborn, what are you talking about?' The other stranger sounded cautious. 'There's no way you're saying I was right when you weren't.'

Reborn let out a sigh. 'The kid's called Minoru Nara. He went to Namimori middle and high.'

Silence.

'Oh,' the other man said, his voice soft.

'You see why it's complicated.' Reborn seemed to be torn between resentment at having to reveal information, and relief at finally being able to talk straight. Nara, after the initial thrill of hearing his identity finally revealed, wondered why it made any difference. It wasn't like he knew the guy...

...Was it?

The other person sounded incredulous. 'For me, yes. I didn't think you were so sentimental.'

'I did say your softness has rubbed off on me. And it would bother Hibari-san, as well.'

There was another pause, filled with the furious noise of Nara's brain working overtime, trying to work out who this other man might be, if he did indeed know him. He'd have had to have been in the same school – his year, since they were the same age... and he knew Hibari Kyoya. Who in his year had ever had any links to Hibari beyond being beaten up by him? A disciplinary committee member? But they were firmly subordinates. They wouldn't call him 'Kyoya'. Think, he told himself. He'd known more about the rest of his year than anyone else at that place. Who had he seen...? Nara suddenly remembered a lunchtime one day, in high school: Hibari, leaning nonchalantly in a second floor window, talking – or rather listening to – Yamamoto Takeshi. He'd thought it odd at the time, and had filed it away, not thinking about it again until now. But the guy on the other side of the door sounded nothing like Yamamoto. And hadn't Takeo told him earlier this evening that Takeshi was in Italy? With his friends.

A voice spoke from the other side of the door. 'Well, I should talk to him.' It was the mystery man.

'Are you sure?' Reborn asked. 'I can handle him, more leniently if you'd prefer.'

'No, I should. It'll be fine.'

There was a chilling click in Nara's mind, as he suddenly saw things fall into place like a jigsaw puzzle. LMN were an offshoot of a mafia group from Italy. Reborn had said that the Vazusa had been created to take it over. Hibari had lead the takeover attempt. Yamamoto had some connection with Hibari. Yamamoto and his friends were in Italy. Italy was where the mafia was.

How the hell, Nara wondered, had he missed the fact that his classmates were budding mafiosos?

And, by that logic, this strange guy, the one Reborn had been talking to, would be one of Yamamoto's friends from his year. Which narrowed things down considerably.

Chrome Dokuro, Sasegawa Kyoko, and Kurokawa Hana were all female, ruling them out. Sasegawa Ryohei was a different year. Which left him with just two options. Gokudera Hayato, or, and here Nara's mind stopped working, Sawada Tsunayoshi.

No way. Neither of those were possible. Gokudera had been aggressive and fiery, nothing like this man. And Tsuna... had been Tsuna. Nara tried to clamp down on the logic his brain was so diligently feeding him. Yamamoto had had other friends; it could've just as easily been one of his many baseball cronies. It could've been a friend out of school. It could...

Nara was still trying to rationalise everything when a key turned in in the lock, and the door rolled open, sideways. He'd been tipped against the door, leaning against it with his ear pressed to it, and as it opened he tipped forward, in the chair, to crash, pathetically, on the floor. The pain in his face was excruciating, but he was also burning with humiliation. He opened his eyes, groggily, and saw two pairs of feet in front of him. He recognised Reborn's small black patent shoes; next to them were a pair of nicely made tan loafers. Gingerly, he probed his mouth with his tongue, tasting blood, and found a tooth that was almost certainly cracked. Oh gods.

'Well, maybe you don't even have to talk to him,' Reborn said unconcernedly, standing over him. 'He's almost certainly heard everything.'

'That's because you suggested I build this place to mimic a traditional Japanese house, thin walls included.'

'So you're saying this is my fault?' Reborn asked acidly.

'Well, this is the least secure cell we have. If I didn't know you better, it might be that you wanted this to happen.' They were ribbing each other, Nara realised, with a growing sense of indignation. They had his life in their hands, and they were exchanging banter over his head.

'Eh, Reborn, I think I can deal with this from here. Arigatou.'

Nara watched as the black shoes turned and started tapping back down the corridor. And then the other man, in one deft gesture, pulled Nara's chair up so that it righted itself with a crash, and pulled the door shut behind him. Then he dragged the chair back to the centre of the room, the sound of it squealing horribly. It was only once Nara hadn't been moved for a couple of seconds, and his head stopped spinning quite so horribly - his nose still bled - that Nara could focus on this situation at all.

Only to wish immediately that he still couldn't. Seated on a chair in front of him, legs crossed and hand pensively on his chin, was a young man that Nara recognised instantly as Sawada Tsunayoshi.

There was a moment of unsure, horrible silence as they made eye contact, the power dynamic crackling uncomfortably. Nara hadn't made eye contact with Tsuna since the last time he'd physically bullied him, somewhere in the first year on high school. He remembered Tsuna's light brown eyes gazing up from a bruised face, looking straight into Nara's almost black ones. They'd been wide and scared, the perfect eyes for a victim - for prey - while Nara knew his own were dark and cruel and narrow. The situation was inverted here; his own eyes, wide in a bleeding mess of a face, looked unsure and scared, while Tsuna's eyes, though still hazel, were hooded, and held fire in their depths. The two moments of eye contact reached for each other through time, creating, for Nara, an unsettling feeling of intimacy.

Then Tsuna spoke. 'Hi, Nara-san. It's been a while.'

Nara didn't know what to say. He'd never, ever imagined a situation like this could exist. How could his classmate be speaking like this, when everything served as a reminder of how abnormal this was? And how could Nara say anything in return? He tried to return the greeting, but the indignity of his scenario choked him. The cuffs on his wrist burned him coldly. His arms, twisted behind him, ached. His feet were bound, and he had a split lip and a cracked tooth. And he was sitting in front of someone who had once felt endless variations of the same pain - at his hands. Someone who now held everything over him. His stomach seethed with shame.

'Tsunayoshi,' he ground out, eventually, dropping eye contact to do so, and hating the way Tsuna's eyes bored into the top of his head.

There was another silence, stretching out into an uncomfortable length. Nara wondered what Tsuna was playing at. Maybe he didn't know what to say. But no, in some unfathomable way, everything about his once-dame classmate now screamed competence. Was he waiting for Nara to talk? Surely no interrogator would expect someone in this state to speak first? But maybe Tsuna could sense the way that his fear had been replaced with curiosity, and was driving Nara to talk first. But if he did that would show impatience, and therefore weakness… He stopped himself from overthinking it. He wouldn't talk until Tsuna did. He had that much self restraint.

With that resolution firmly in mind he raised his head with a glare, ready to meet Tsuna's gaze head on. But Tsuna wasn't looking at him anymore. Nara almost choked in affront. Tsuna had his phone out, and was texting someone. Texting! While he was here! Nara made his mind up - underground boss or no, he was going to get at least one good hit on his old victim if he got the chance.

'Do you normally greet old schoolmates like this, Sawada?', he spat. Tsuna slipped his phone back in his pocket.

'I greet threats to my Family like this, Nara-san. Which you were.' He still had that light innocence of voice, the tone that had always suggested to Nara a singularly one dimensional and simple individual. He could be wrong, it seemed.

'Really?' Nara asked. 'You get a kid to beat them up for you and then walk in as if you've got the moral high ground?' Tsuna's face was as unreadable as Reborn's, but Nara pressed ahead. 'Pretty big lengths to go to get revenge on some school bullies, Sawada. I'd've thought you would have moved on by now. Most of us have.'

Something terrible crossed Tsuna's face. He leaned in, closer to Nara, his hand on the corner of Nara's chair reminding Nara uncomfortably of the vulnerability of his position. When he was slightly too close for comfort, Tsuna spoke, in a voice almost physically harsh.

'If you'd overheard half as much of my conversation with Reborn as you could've, you should've picked up on the fact that being one of my old schoolmates is the only reason you're alive right now.' He leaned back, and looked Nara up and down. Nara looked away. 'Consider this special treatment,' Tsuna said.

Nara's incredulity shone through past his growing fear. This Tsuna was as predatory as anyone he'd seen - Hibari, himself, hell, maybe even as much as that creepy Reborn kid. Since when did Tsuna act like this? How? How much of his behaviour in high school had been an act? Ok, so he didn't think Tsuna would hit him, not like Reborn had, but he was still displaying an aggression Nara wouldn't have thought Tsuna could even feel, let alone act upon. But then again, there had been that time he'd taken out Mochida in middle school…

'What are you going to do to me?', he asked, trying, and failing, not to sound scared.

Fatigue shone suddenly through in Tsuna's eyes, and Nara reflected that maybe this intimidation wasn't Tsuna's preferred mode of dealing with things. 'Like I said,' Tsuna sighed, 'I'm giving you over to Hibari-san. I promised him.'

'What?' Nara couldn't accept what he'd just heard. He realised he'd begun to expect to get out of this alive, and relatively unhurt - Tsuna, while radically different, was still Tsuna, and still didn't want to kill him. But Hibari…

'You can't,' he croaked out, hating how weak his voice sounded, 'he'll kill me.'

Tsuna's eyes were impassive. 'Two men died because of you,' he said. 'If it hadn't been for you we could have done the whole thing completely without violence. Do you know how long it's taken to persuade Kyoya that there are other methods besides going in solo and beating everyone? Do you know how he feels, considering that two men are dead, when he could've taken LMN out on his own in a few days?'

Nara didn't know how to reply. To be honest, he was more shocked at the analytical way that Tsuna was thinking, rather than what he was saying. Tsuna sized things up like this? He stared at his old classmate blankly. Tsuna sighed in frustration.

'You don't get it, do you?'

What was he meant to say? No? Yes? Of course not, I'm not meant to be able to understand the workings of the bloody mafia; no one is, especially not one of my old school victims? He stayed quiet.

'Hibari-san won't kill you, because, for years, you've been one of the ones we've tried to protect.' Tsuna spoke quietly, slowly, as if explaining things to a child. 'You have no clue how hard we've fought over the years to keep everyone in Namimori safe. It's why we're building this place,' he said, gesturing around at the huge room.

Nara didn't quite follow. Him? They'd protected him? Tsuna looked at the vacancy in his eyes, and deflated again.

'Minoru-san, Hibari-san might've considered everyone at school 'herbivores', but you were still his to protect.' Nara didn't miss the fact that Tsuna had included honourifics. It made him suddenly sound like his old self a bit more. But his eyes hardened again. 'And now this.' What was he meant to say to that? It felt like the two of them were on completely different pages; he couldn't connect with the man in front of him at all. And they'd been protecting them for years? It felt, to Nara, like there was a vast gulf between the way he'd thought the world to be, and the way it was. He could see Tsuna thinking things over, could see him drawing on years of decisions and experiences Nara couldn't fathom. It scared him. Tsuna scared him. He felt something change in his head, something fundamental. This Tsuna was... a 'carnivore', as Hibari would put it. But he hadn't been.

As Nara's thoughts whirled nonsensically around his head, Tsuna appeared to come to a decision. He stood up, and walked around to the back of Nara's chair. A brief clink, and Nara was released. He tried to resist the urge to rub his wrists.

'Get up,' Tsuna said, standing over him, 'Come with me.'

Nara gaped, but stood up. Was he serious? Even though he'd grown a bit, Tsuna was still over a head smaller than him. He didn't appear to be armed. He'd done nothing so far that suggested he was any better at fighting than he had been in school. He wasn't even aggressive. Did Tsuna think that Nara had been sufficiently cowed into submission by Reborn? Because, if it came down to taking out Tsuna or being handed over to Hibari, he'd pick Tsuna in a heartbeat. He guessed that Tsuna had this role due to family; his father had been absent a lot, after all, and it wasn't unfeasible that he was part of a group. But being an important figure didn't mean he was strong.

Tsuna had walked over to the door and opened it. He gestured to Nara to head out.

As they walked along the facility, Nara realised how enormous this place was. He'd assumed that it was just a couple of rooms, but corridor after corridor stretched out and interwove with each other, some very clearly still under construction. And it was all underground.

'Is this under Namimori?' Nara asked. Tsuna nodded. 'And you built this place?'

'I came up with the idea. Contractors are building it.'

Despite himself, Nara was impressed – but also worried. Even if he did take down Tsuna, he was still stuck in this place – and it was a proper maze. Then he saw something reassuring: a green emergency exit sign. Brilliant. They were in an abandoned corridor; he reckoned acting now was his best chance, and he propelled himself towards Tsuna's figure ahead of him, intending to get him in a hold against the wall and get a couple of good hits in.

He dived, one fist drawn back and the other arm outstretched.

…And without even looking back, Tsuna rolled to the side. Nara swung beyond him, out of control, and crumpled to the floor. Yet again, he felt his nose start bleeding. Hastily, he scrambled up, backing away from Tsuna, keeping his fists up in readiness. Tsuna, damn him, was stood, apparently unmoved by Nara's attempted attack, looking at him impassively.

'Do you regret it?' Tsuna asked, suddenly.

'What?'

'You've heard; Righetti and Paulos died because of you. Do your regret it?'

The sensible part of Nara's brain was screaming at him to tell Tsuna what he wanted to hear; it was likely a good way to stay alive and unhurt. The rest of his mind quashed it. That would be akin to admitting Tsuna intimidated him. And he hadn't given up on the idea of taking Tsuna out and escaping, either.

'No,' he said, plainly. 'I didn't know them, and I don't respect criminals anyway. Sorry, Sawada.' Then, figuring he might as well, he added, 'I also don't regret anything I did to you or anyone else in school, if you were wondering.'

Tsuna's eyes flashed. 'I… I'm sorry to hear that, Minoru-san. I'd hoped… Well, I'd hoped your actions could be redeemed.'

Nara rolled his eyes. If Dame-Tsuna was going to get all moral and preachy on him, best to take him out now. Tsuna was looking down, and Nara swung his fist, intending to deliver a stabbing blow to his temple. Only for Tsuna to dodge, effortlessly, by a hairsbreadth. In quick succession, he jabbed Nara in the stomach and caught his arm as he doubled over, twisting it and pulling him up. Nara wretched. Tsuna's hit had been almost as hard as Reborn's. For an instant, Tsuna stayed like that; Nara, held firmly, easily. In that instant, Nara was completely helpless. But then Tsuna released him, and let him straighten up properly.

'This way,' he said, moving off down the corridor as if nothing had happened. Nara stared after him. Tsuna was strong. Strong strong. Strong enough not to have had to have been bullied, anyway. When had that happened?

For an instant, he considered just ignoring Tsuna's retreating back and running for the exit. Then, some instinct rooted deeply in his stomach overturned the idea, and he sloped after Tsuna, hating the feeling of being a dog on a leash. When he caught up to him, Tsuna stopped, and faced him. 'By the way, Nara-San - the emergency exit signs don't lead to exits.' He said it with a completely straight face.

'What? Why the hell not?'

'It was Reborn's idea. He's whimsical like that.'

Nara bit his tongue to stop himself from exclaiming that that wasn't whimsy; that was bizarre, and stupid. How long had Tsuna been subjected to this Reborn kid's ideas if he couldn't see that?

'Reborn. Who is he?'

A wry smirk twisted its way onto Tsuna's face.

'Didn't he tell you? The world's greatest hitman?'

Nara almost rolled his eyes, then thought of Reborn, and didn't.

'Sawada, he's what, 12? But I meant who is he in relation to you. How do you know him?'

A look of long-suffering, panic and nostalgia crossed Tsuna's face, each expression flitting across in an instant with the overall effect of a mild spasm. 'Well,' he sighed eventually, 'he was my tutor. In school.'

Nara processed that. Not just the fact that Tsuna had had a tutor - it was laughably obvious during school that he needed one -and not even the fact that Reborn must've been a literal baby at that time. It was the idea that that terrifying kid had been around the entirety of the years Tsuna had been his victim. Hell, Nara might've even run into him at one point.

'What, that maniac taught you Maths? Got you through Chemistry?'

'Something along those lines. Among other things.'

Tsuna didn't elaborate further, and Nara restrained his curiosity to avoid appearing overly interested. Or tried to. After a few more twisting corridors traversed in silence, he spoke again.

'And this is a good job, I take it. Daddy get it for you? I suppose it lets you live out your dreams of power.'

Tsuna raised his eyebrows. 'Funny you saying that, considering your father is funding your entire life.' Nara gaped a little, but the brunette continued, 'Reborn can tell you that I took this position very, very reluctantly. Power really isn't everything you'd think. Lots more paperwork. And so much to try and protect.'

Tsuna sounded so open that Nara half wondered if he'd forgotten who he was talking to. The information was spilling out of him in quiet, stunted sentences.

'What exactly is your job, Sawada?'

Tsuna blinked. 'The official title is Vongola Decimo. Tenth head of the Vongola family. Only in training. Nono is still in charge.'

'Italian? The mafia? Christ, how the hell did you wind up in that?'

'Bloodlines and the assassination of everyone better suited to the job.'

Another spate of silence. Nara was trying to think of other angles of information to use.

'So, Vongola. What sort of family is that? Old? Small? Nice and manageable?' Let's be honest, this was Tsuna they were talking about. This underground complex was impressive, but was probably draining the 'family' of a considerable amount of money. It wasn't likely that they had a huge presence in Italy. The 'Vasuza' was probably their big attempt to increase their territory size. 'I mean, it's mainly a family run thing, right?'

Tsuna stopped walking. Actually stopped and stared blankly at him for a moment. A small smile crossed his face; a smile that grew and grew until he gave a barking, hysterical laugh. It was the kind of laugh you do when you're exhausted and drained and the world is suddenly a bizarrely funny place. Nara ground his teeth. Was he wrong? 'What's so amusing?

Tsuna straightened up, ever so slightly wild eyed. 'Sorry, Nara. It's just, you said manageable.'

Oh? It wasn't? Was that because it was actually formidable, or just because Dame-Tsuna couldn't cope with the stress?

'What's wrong, Sawada? Can't even control one measly mafia family?' Not his smartest taunt, but he was an information broker after all. If this got Tsuna to talk, that would be enough.

Tsuna looked at him, still smiling slightly. 'Well, when that family is about 10,000 members strong and operates in 97 different countries, it gets more complicated.'

'Huh?' Nara didn't process what Tsuna had said until a solid ten seconds after. 'W…what?!'

Tsuna smirked. 'Technically, the Vongola is the most powerful criminal organisation on the planet. I'd like to see anyone try and organise that without feeling overwhelmed.'

No way. Tsuna was bluffing. Of course he was bluffing. This was the underworld, of course, no imperative to tell the truth. And the Vongola couldn't be that big; he would've heard of it. Right? Yeah, right. He definitely would have known…

'Nice try, Tsuna, but I wasn't born yesterday. You've come a long way from high school, but you're no boss of the underworld.'

Tsuna looked at him, apparently unfazed by the insult, his eyes disturbingly steady. Then he snapped his gaze forward again. 'Eh, Nara, I don't know whether to agree with Reborn and say you don't know anything, or to admire your ignorance.'

Well what could he say to that? He waited, hoping Tsuna would continue. 'It's no secret I didn't want this job. I just got in too deep before I knew it, and have too many attachments to pull out again. But it is dire.' He blinked, slowly. 'When you're the strongest, you're the one everyone else tries to hide behind. You're everyone's target, the arbitrator of every argument. Every decision you make could destroy or end lives. You're fighting to protect those closest to you, but you have to watch them cover themselves in blood for your sake, and you don't know whether you'll lose them to some ambush or to the slow horror that's eating away at their soul. Try it sometime. It's no fun.'

Nara couldn't speak, pressed into silence by the weight of Tsuna's words. He wasn't taking to Nara here, he was offloading feelings far more expansive. As reluctant as Nara was to believe him, he found he couldn't dismiss what Tsuna was saying. There was too much anguish behind it. And so they walked on, Tsuna pressing ahead while Nara stared at his back, wondering for the first time just how much weight rested on those slim shoulders.

After an what felt like an eternity of walking round twisting corridors and taking various elevators, they arrived in an immensely large tiled room that had virtually nothing in it. Tsuna, while walking, had pulled his phone out and had seemed pretty busy texting, making further conversation impossible. Now he walked a little way into the room, which felt like it was a long way underground, and gestured to Nara that he should wait at the edge.

Nara had just started to wonder how long they were going to be waiting when the elevator dinged. His heart leapt into his throat as a figure he recognised instantly as Hibari Kyoya stepped out. He'd gotten taller, his black hair had gotten longer, and his eyes had gotten even crueler. Despite himself, he began to quiver. Was this some sort of execution chamber?

'Ah, Hibari-san,' Tsuna said with a sheepish smile, looking and sounding more like his old self than he had at any point before. 'Thank you for coming.'

'Hn. Omnivore. I suppose that there's a good explanation for this.'

Omnivore? Hibari had obviously branched out his labelling system. What did that mean?

'I'm afraid the only explanation I can give you is a selfish one. That' - and to Nara's horror Tsuna's accusatory hand came swinging round to point at him directly - 'is Minoru Nara, the one who sold us out. I promised you he'd be yours.'

'Then why does this not feel like you keeping your promise?'

What? This felt pretty much like that to Nara. The surrealism of this situation was mounting, and he was struggling to keep up. Did Tsuna want him dead or not?

Tsuna himself gave one of his trademark bashful yet melancholic grins, rubbing his head. 'What do you think of the training room, Hibari-san?'

The flat look that Hibari shot him suggested that he did not appreciate this attempt at changing the subject, and Nara thought it a pretty good indication of his respect for Tsuna that he responded at all. Then again, the fact that he, Nara, was in the room and Hibari hadn't yet bitten him to death said that too. It was almost like he was a dog that had been, very subtly, told to stay. How the hell had Tsuna managed that?

'It's practical. It's exactly the same as the one from the future. Why this question now?'

'It is. I wanted it to be exactly the same. This is the room where I passed the ring test, all those years ago. It was the first time I'd actually seen the power and bloodshed behind the Vongola. I told Primo I was going to destroy it. Apparently that won him over.'

'Hn. Noble ambitions. Ones I was aware of. Why are you repeating this?'

'Because the Vongola is so much more all-encompassing than I ever imagined. The 10th Gen are about to take over; the ceremony will happen in the next year, now that we've proved ourselves with this little outing. And the way we handle this will set a tone for the rest of our reign.' He paused, as if aware that his argument was slightly disjointed. 'Kyoya, I don't want us to loose sight of what we want to do. I feel it, all the time, the feeling of walking on the edge, constantly about to go over. How many times can I dip my fingers into dark affairs before I drown in them? I need to keep the moral high ground.'

'There are therapist herbivores that you can explain this to, Tsunayoshi. I will bite people to death as I always do.'

Tsuna smiled, a low smile that was more of a smirk. 'Perfect,' he said.

Hibari's eyes widened fractionally in surprise. 'Hn?'

'Did I ever explain the ring test to you? You have to be in a life threatening situation for it to activate. In my case, I was fighting you. Well, future-you.'

Hibari's features stilled almost imperceptibly into understanding. Nara could not say the same of his own, which he hoped didn't look as utterly perplexed as he felt.

'I have really good memories of that fight, Hibari-san. Even though it was terrifying. It really helped me sort things out in my head. So, this is my selfish request. Help me remember that feeling.' He spread out his arms in a challenge. 'Bite me to death.'

This, Nara reflected later, was the point where his night - probably his early morning by now - had gone from pretty insane to full on batshit crazy. Child hitmen, schoolmate mafia bosses and underground complexes were one thing. People setting themselves on fire was something else entirely.

The fight had been blazing for twenty terrifying, unbelievable and awe-inspiring minutes now; twenty minutes that had probably done more to widen Nara's worldview than his last two years at uni combined. He'd seen self-propagating balls of purple spikes fill the room. He'd seen ice encase everything, spiking jaggedly into the tiles as though they were paper. He'd seen two people he knew moving faster and more furiously than the eye could see.

Because of that, there was lots he hadn't seen. He knew that the orange blur was Tsuna, who by now scared him just as much as Hibari, the purple blur. The moments that had been slow enough to catch had shown them in hand to hand combat so lethal and graceful that they might well have been professionals. Tsuna easily dodged or parried Hibari's tonfas with the gauntlet like gloves he wore, attacking using the speed and momentum from the bursts of flame around his hands.

Occasionally, they paused, sizing each other up, or exchanging a few words that Nara had been mostly unable to hear in the vastness of the room. This time, though, the pause was different. More final. Was this the end?, Nara wondered. He wasn't used to underground fights that ended with both parties still on their feet and in possession of all their teeth. Then again, it wasn't like this was an ordinary fight. Evidently this was the end, as Tsuna dropped to the floor while the remainder of Hibari's spiked purple balls vanished. They began walking back towards him.

Now what? His brain, which had been numbed into silence watching events unfold, suddenly kicked back in in a panic. What was going to happen to him? Why had Tsuna done that? Was it to warm Hibari up? Get his bloodlust going? That's the sort of thing he'd have done, he realised, has the roles been reversed. He thought back to what Tsuna had said to Hibari. 'Help me sort things out in my head.' That made no sense, unless for some reason fighting helped Tsuna make decisions. Oh, God. Maybe that fight had been to help Tsuna ditch any merciful sentimentality he'd been feeling towards him.

They came and stood facing one another, him leaning against the wall in front of them. He pressed himself back into it, subconsciously trying to get as far away from them as possible, then bitterly recognised what he was doing and tried to tell himself not to be so pathetic.

'Hn. That was a good battle, Tsunayoshi.'

'You think I was allowed to sit around doing nothing after you came back to Japan?'

There was a pause, during which Hibari's scathing gaze came to focus squarely on Nara, who froze like a deer in headlights. Tsuna, however, didn't take his level orange eyes off of the moody ex-prefect.

'Do not mistake my acquiescence to your will for ignorance.' Hibari said, suddenly turning back to Tsuna. Yet another perplexing comment. The way that Tsuna and Hibari communicated was just that - confusing. There seemed to be a lot of subtext behind every snatched sentence.

'I'm not,' Tsuna replied evenly, his lack of comment prompting Hibari to talk more. 'Your will is that I give up on this informant here, because you do not want to make our Vongola as brutal as the last. You knew that before you fought.'

Was that true? Did Tsuna not want Hibari to kill him? That's not how it had appeared to Nara. For someone who was normally so good at reading people, it was immensely disconcerting to be privy to a conversation that eluded his comprehension like quicksilver. He was also lost on how to feel about these two people. Tsuna he would have been happy to say he barely recognised anymore. A small, pathetic boy who'd been changed by power into a cold, obnoxious figurehead, as steered by his organisation as it was steered by him. That was the usual type of young underground boss that he knew. But that wasn't him. This Tsuna still was so recognisable; still held more than a few echoes of the boy who'd once been Nara's punching bag. And it was those echoes that made this all so hard to deal with. How could that same person now be so competent? How could that same person fight with Hibari? This person had made Hibari - in ways Nara still couldn't figure out - respect his will, and Nara was lost as to exactly how Tsuna had changed so much.

Tsuna was still considering Hibari's last comment. 'That's very true,' he eventually replied. 'But I never wanted you to be ignorant of the fact. I just thought I had a better chance of convincing you with my dying will than I did with words.'

Hibari's eyes flared fractionally, an expression that Nara had figured by now was 'impressed surprise'. 'You are an omnivore, Tsunayoshi. I will see you tomorrow.' With that, he turned and left, Tsuna's eyes following his back until the elevator door closed.

Xxxxx

Tsuna let out a light breath as Hibari departed, staying in the same place for a second as his tense frame relaxed. Then he came over to Nara. 'I can't believe that worked. Come on.' He gestured that Nara should follow him, and the mantle of authority that he carried around made Nara do so. Well, that and the surprising realisation from that Tsuna could put a burning fist through his skull if he really wanted to.

They made their way back up through the underground complex with little to no conversation. Tsuna didn't seem to want to talk and Nara by now was slightly too unnerved by this man to ask anymore questions. He did catch several glimpses of his (incredibly painful) face in the mirrors that lined the walls and the bloody, swollen mess made him wince.

Eventually, they reached a small, strong looking door marked with no sign that Nara wouldn't have looked twice at. 'Put this on,' Tsuna said, handing him a strip of fabric. 'I don't want to have to change around all the exits because you know where they are.' Obediently, Nara tied it round his eyes, avoiding the tenderer spots on his face. Had this been taking place just an hour or two earlier, he would have been tempted to tie it loosely or in some way that would have let him catch a glimpse of what was going on; as it was he now wanted as little to do with these people and this place as possible. He was still quite surprised that he was leaving at all.

The fresh air as they walked out the door was a blessed relief, though the chill in the air suggested that it was early morning. Probably still dark. Tsuna took his arm and lead him carefully across what felt like some grassy terrain, the onto a pavement and into a car. When it had started moving Tsuna said, 'you can take that off now.' Nara did, and looked around at the interior of what appeared to be a limo without much surprise. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd been in one. Tsuna sat opposite him, legs crossed.

'We'll drop you off at the hospital. You're free to go.'

Nara gaped, relief flooding him in a sudden surge. He was going to get through this.

'You'll be watched for the next little while. A year or so. It won't be obtrusive. Needless to say, if you go anywhere near the Tokyo underworld again we won't be so lenient.'

He paused, checking that Nara was following. Nara was, not entirely happily.

'Your release is conditional on you dropping all narcotics and checking yourself into a program designed to help with addiction. You also have to sign up for some form of community service. Like I said, we'll have someone watching you, so we'll know if you have done this or not.'

Nara was indignant. 'The hell are you, social services? What gives you the right to make me do that?'

Tsuna blinked, unimpressed, and Nara suddenly remembered how strong he was. 'If things had gone slightly differently today you'd be dead,' he said impassively. 'I'm very happy for you that you're not, but the fact remains that, according to all the laws of the underworld, we own you. You sold out our men. I hardly think spending two evenings a week in a soup kitchen as remembrance is too much to ask for.'

Nara opened his mouth, then, wisely, shut it again.

'Anyway,' Tsuna said, doing another one of his disconcerting personality flips and suddenly becoming much more cheerful, 'here we are, Nara-san. I wish we could have met up under better circumstances, and I hope you don't give us cause to meet like this again.' The car stopped, and the door opened. Tsuna waved at him to disembark. 'Take care, Nara-san.'

Nara didn't respond, just looked round as he left, and Tsuna's eyes caught him like beams. Tired, stressed, disillusioned, yet, underneath all that, gentleness and a genuine sincerity in his well-wishing. They looked at one another in some sort of confused understanding for a few final moments, then the car door shut and the limo moved off. Just before the door closed completely, Nara thought he heard the high voice of Reborn, though he hadn't seen him in the car. 'Well done, Dame-Tsuna.' Nara turned away, shivering.

If anyone has made it this far, congratulations. I have barely managed to make it this far myself. I began this chapter when I was reading everything Robin Hobb has ever written, so I'm blaming the moody tone of this piece on that. If you've ever read any of her books, you'll know the concept of a happy ending is not something she's familiar with. Anyway, for a while all I could envision for this whole story - and for KHR in general - was a darker and darker turn, filled with cynicism and a 10th Gen that slowly lost everything they'd once stood for. Emo, I know. This chapter sort of explored Tsuna's awareness of that potential, but also hopefully left things on a slightly lighter note. Because KHR is also meant to be fun.

My writing of this is also not something I'll dwell on, since that will send us right back into negativity. But if I had my way, this would never have seen the light of day, and this story would probably never go any further. As it is, as rambling, terribly paced, and insubstantially characterised as this piece is, I still felt I owed it to myself and any readers out there to post it. Hopefully it managed to sort of sustain your interest.

EDIT: Sorry, selfish omission. A HUGE thank you to anyone and everyone who has reviewed. I wouldn't have gotten here without you and reading your wonderful responses has been amazing.