A/N: Eueheheh. Here are replies to reviews! I don't think I have the time to try to PM every single one of you... and heck this doesn't take as long. I don't necessarily reply to every single review that I receive, but I appreciate them all the same. It's just that I can't always think of a reply to some reviews other than just "thank you, thank you, thank you"! Oh, this chapter is what I call a "hot pot" chapter- a lot of jumping around. I'm not very good at battle scenes, and I feel like I didn't have quite enough time to write out the character thoughts because of all the description of what was going on. Maybe perverted Daemon can make up for my bad writing... maybe? He's too fun to write, and I think he might be a bit out of character in his thoughts. One day I'll portray him the way I want him to be portrayed. I hope. Chapter 6, here we go.

Final Syai Lunar Generation: If there's anything I love writing, it's a cute/creepy Giotto. I'm glad you liked the chapter! Emriel: Hnnng. Abused Tsuna is adorable, I couldn't resist. But I don't like writing him crying for some reason. Tearless angst is one of the most fun things to write for me. And going off on a tangent here, but I love your fic "The Snow King"! eclipsed flower: Reviewing helps me go through all my documents and try to figure out which one I should update, haha. It's like, "Oh, look, someone still reads this... guess I should update." I just stick bits and pieces of pairings that I like in my fics, really. Helps make characters more rounded and not just some one-true-love-Mary Sue. I'm a huge sucker for D18, so that always pops out in every damn fic I write that involves Dino and Hibari. That stuff? Oh, golly. I can write angst, but I don't know about that, haha. NFGdP: Don't abuse your keyboard, honey! Updating this fic has always been in the back of my head. I'm the type of author who takes a month to plan out stuff, a month to write it, and two more months to edit or rewrite. I'm sorry! And yep, Giotto's inside Tsuna's body now. Ohohohoho. R3iga1004: Everyone seems to like that 1827, haha. But herrrp, this is a G27 fic. AYMK00: I'll try not to disappoint! Renkin-chan: I love creepy characters. 'Cuz, you know, Tsuna is forever surrounded by creepy people. Who always want to get in his pants. Or something like that, huehe.

- x -

KAKERA

CHAPTER 6

Hibari saw the brown eyes, irises tinged with an bold, flame-like tint, widen with surprise as the teenager stumbled forward, legs twisting and tangling together. Instinctively, he had reached forward, hands grasping onto the brunette's arms to prevent him from falling over backwards. There was calm but dazed look within those eyes, and Hibari contemplated slapping him again, but decided against it. Gokudera might just actually break free from Yamamoto and Ryohei's grip this time around.

And he could really do with a little less profanity.

"Thanks." Tsuna muttered, eyes falling from Hibari's piercing gaze to fall on the floor before regaining his balance shakily, hands pushing Hibari's away, who jerked aside awkwardly. Gokudera immediately stepped between the two as they moved on, lips curled into a rather malicious scowl. Tsuna, surprisingly, didn't say much of anything at all, and the silence was only violated by the occasional crash and boom of destruction up ahead. Dread and anticipation, mixed together in a fatal mix of silence and doom, prevented, for the most part, any conversation. Ryohei would occasionally ask Hibari something, but other than that, the three teenagers were silent. Yamamoto's fingers gripped his bamboo sword in a grip so tight that his knuckles were sprinkled with white. Gokudera's lips were pushed tightly together, a cigarette perched between them, the familiar tinge of annoyance mixed in with fear of what could come. Tsuna was even quieter than usual now, eyes clear and iridescent with something no one in particular noticed.

They approached a fork in the hallway when the lights of the hallways suddenly flickered, the buzz of electricity cut off momentarily as the four stopped in their tracks. Breathing ceased in concentration, and with a nearly inhuman acuteness, Hibari sidestepped, body stepping in front of Tsuna's as tonfas, swinging in a large arc that was a blaze of purple flames just in time to deflect a series of shots. Deformed copper shells hit the floor in hollow metallic clings, and the four were almost instantly blinded by the light up ahead. The air filled with electricity and energy, cut off only when Gokudera activated his System C.A.I. A loud bang, followed by a rush of wind, greeted the four.

"Move!" Ryohei yelled, his voice cutting through the sound of additional bullets cutting through the air, hitting the defenses, which were weakening by the second. Hibari grabbed Tsuna by the collar, and surprisingly, the teen didn't protest as he was dragged along. Yamamoto followed Ryohei, and for a moment Gokudera was caught between the two. A conflicted expression plagued his expressions, and then the silver-haired guardian found himself lurching fowards towards Ryohei and Yamamoto, forced forward by a well-aimed kick. Looking back, he saw the gentle smile pass by his boss's face before the two disappeared down the darkened tunnel.

Panic boiled in him, the rage held up inside before cool fingers linked into his, pulling him along with a strength disproportionate to the slim digits. Looking up, he saw the determined line of Yamamoto's jaw, and the way the other hand gripped onto his sword. "Sawada will be fine," said Ryohei with a smile that betrayed his optimism. "Let's get going now, shall we?"

- x -

Giotto wasn't used to being human again.

Or, scratch that, he wasn't used to having a human body that actually functioned like one. A physical one, to be exact. Giotto didn't quite recall how heavy a body was until he was back in one again. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the corridor, he allowed the dark-haired man, presumably Decimo's cloud guardian, to drag him along as he adjusted to the body. The barrage of bullets came in higher frequency and number, but Giotto knew that, for now, they were protected from danger with those flames. Purple wisps passed by, and Giotto tensed, a distant part of him struggling to break again.

"You're no boss of mine."

A low chuckle escaped him, and he closed his eyes, willing the hidden strength within to escape. A split second later, a bright orange flame burned on his forehead, lighting up the darkened corridor. The dark-haired guardian turned around, grip on his collar weakening. Cold gray eyes pierced burning irises, and lips parted in a questioning air. Giotto knew that look too well, and simply pushed his way past the man, gloves extended out behind him as he rushed forward, leaving a bewildered cloud guardian behind him. It was awkward at first, and hard for him to keep his balance. Weight. That feeling needed a bit of time to get used to. A metallic reflection of the light he gave off from his flames caught his attention up ahead, and Giotto slowed, pulling his arms in front of him, palms outstretched to aim a stream of flames at the target. There was the faint whir of mechanical gears, and then a metallic robot-looking figure rushed straight at him, metal hand outstretched and ready to grab him.

Crunch.

Hot metal came in contact with the cold shell of the robot, and Giotto looked up into its retina display before giving it a rough kick, sending it into the dark abyss with an audible crash. Robots. Technology sure flew by when Giotto didn't pay attention. But that model did look quite familiar, though Giotto's mind couldn't race through the four hundred-plus years quickly enough to figure out why. He couldn't quite figure out what it was, perhaps, but he knew enough to get defeat it. Just in time, the lights flickered back on, and Giotto assumed that the techs had managed to get the electricity back on in the hallways again. At this point, however, he kind of wished he couldn't see. There, in front of him, stood half a dozen of the same robots. Hundreds of beams aimed straight at him, and Giotto blasted himself back just in time.

This was going to be much harder than he had planned.

Sneakers hit the wall at the end of the hallway as the energy beams bore smoking holes into the walls next to him. Dust choked him, and a barrage of bullets caught him off-guard again, as he charged forward once more. Offense was the best defense, as he'd always said before. White-hot gloves burned through another robot, and a forceful kick sent another three crashing to the end of the hallway. Just when Giotto thought he could catch a breath (as hard as that was to do with such a body), the high-pitched whistle of missiles came his way. Missiles in an underground hallway- who the hell was this stupid? They were underground, as far as Giotto knew. Underground, and with the missiles that meant destruction of more than just the walls. The initial damage would be nothing compared to the collapsing later. But hey, he was too familiar with collapsing, wasn't he? This shouldn't be that bad.

Shouldn't be.

- x -

The way the Giotto look-alike's jaw dropped and the blood drain out of that adorable Japanese face was quite alluring. Huh, when was the last time he had teased that kind of look out of someone, if anyone- Giotto? The memory kindled within him, fed by the remains of a raw emotion that was still ebbing away in the darkness. Daemon was a man of simple pleasures in that his pleasure spawned from the despair, the suffering of others. For the most part, anyhow, since somewhere underneath that sadistic smile and mind that was more twisted than a plate of fusilli pasta. But Daemon knew that there was one man who was probably more twisted that he was- at least, for hiring him. An amused chuckle escaped him, and he honestly couldn't help his wandering hands. It was an old habit, anyway, only this time he had a new toy.

"Your expressions are the same, and yet so different. Nufufu..." Daemon's hand slid up to caress the soft cheeks which were slowly starting to regain color. With a squeak and a stronger jerk than Daemon anticipated, Tsuna was out of the older man's grip and sent into a tumbling heap on the ground. Looking up at him was a face contorted a mixture of horror and fear. And in those brown irises, there was a familiar tinge of defiance. Annoyance registered in the back of Daemon's head, and he crossed his arms, a playful smile playing at his lips as he watched Tsuna get up and put himself at a distance away from the mist guardian.

"H-How do I know you're telling the truth?" Tsuna asked, glancing up at Daemon suspiciously.

"You know I am, Vongola Decimo. And if you're worried about your virginity, I can tell you that I have no interest in boys." The statement brought a deep blush to the teenager's cheeks, and Daemon was forced to think over his words- if only for a split second. But, honestly, what was he supposed to do with someone who probably didn't even know how sex was supposed to work between a guy and a girl, let alone two guys. Daemon let out a low whistle. Yeah. Someone needed to give this kid sex ed, and he sure didn't want to be the one to taint this boy. At least, not yet-

"I swear to God, Daemon, if you fuck Primo's grandkid or whatever I'll blow whatever's left in that rotting piece of shit you call a skull." An irritatingly familiar voice muttered, and Daemon turned to lock gazes with an all-too-friendly redhaired man. A wrinkled white shirt was donned upon his wide shoulders, and a loose green tie hung at his chest. A tattoo ran up the side of his face, and a dangerous-looking gun hung in a holster attached to his belt. His expression was one of disdain and annoyance, which reminded Tsuna of Gokudera in only too many ways, but much friendlier. Erm, perhaps friendly was the wrong word, with the way G was looking at if G kept it up Daemon would make another one of his illusions, just for fun. Tsuna only stared at the redhead (craning his neck to do so, as there was a good foot or so of height difference between G and the unfortunate Vongola Decimo) with bottom jaw loose and hanging.

"Gokudera? What happened to your-"

"Heh. I'm not your dirtmouthed guardian, Decimo." G chuckled, and ruffled Tsuna's hair playfully. Warmth dispelled some of the fear and the creeping crawling feeling of violation from him temporarily.

"Nufufu... I did not realize that you had the ability to overcome my powers, now, G." Daemon's voice slipped into an on edge, more dangerous tone. "What are you doing here?"

"What I should be doing. Thank God Giotto took a break and got out, or I wouldn't have figured out that loophole." G's expression seemed to draw power from Daemon's, as the latter's face fell in dismay. Damned redhead. Next time he'd fill in that loophole for sure. If he could. If his current guardian could at least pay attention to the precious advice he was giving all the du-da-day, that was, instead of going around and doing stupid things. Well, maybe less stupid and more unnecessary was the word. He had lost contact of the man completely a while back, and honestly, Daemon didn't give a damn.

As long as that freak of a boss he had didn't bug him about it, anyway.

"So he hasn't done anything funny to you, has he?" G asked, attention turning back to Tsuna, who looked confused for a moment before shaking his head.

"I-I'm fine." Well, perhaps not really fine, seeing as how he was having another strange hallucination. Only this time, the blonde Don Primo wasn't around, and the ebbing darkness around him seemed to enclose him with a viciousness that hadn't been there before. "But is it true? That Primo-"

"Is doing something stupid? Why, yes." Daemon interjected, a pompous smile flashing on his face as dark teal strands brushed by his face. G shot a warning look over at the rebellious mist guardian, which Daemon happily ignored. "You've got to be the worst mistake he's ever made." The words sent a numb sensation through Tsuna. A mistake? Primo's actions had consequences, clearly- consequences that explained that arrogant smirk on Daemon's lips. And now Tsuna could feel the reality of what was going on sink in. He was here, in this "space" with two of Primo's guardians, it seemed. Primo was nowhere to be seen, which only confirmed Daemon's words. If Primo was indeed in control of his body... what was left would crumble away.

G placed a hand on Tsuna's shoulder and glowered at Daemon. "You have no right to be talking about the boss like that, asshole." Tsuna looked up from his thoughts to see an unreadable expression on G's face. Daemon had a wry smile on his face, hands crossed but in a stiff, forced posture. "I assumed that you two had talked."

Daemon waved G's words away, chuckling softly. "Doesn't matter." Dark irises wandered to Tsuna again, and once again the brunette felt the older man's gaze burn through him. The sensation of G's hand on his shoulder somehow held him in place from the intriging darkness that laid behind those eyes, and Daemon's lips pressed into a thin line. "Is something amiss, Vongola Decimo?"

"No... w-well..." Tsuna's voice wavered before he willed it to stabilize again. "Primo-san. Is he going to be alright?"

G smiled at Tsuna and pulled him closer (and further from Daemon). "He'll be fine. He's the best boss the Vongola has had by far, after all. So until it's over... you'll be right here." Here, trapped between two dead men and an all-consuming darkness. Tsuna had never felt more at ease.

- x -

Drowning. Dying. He could feel the blood seeping out of him, like the last of the ketchup from the bottle. Whatever the hell was left of him, at least. His knuckles were a pale, ghastly white from gripping onto his trident, fingers slick with his own blood and hair drenched in the sticky mess. His lungs strained to push the air through his body, and the sound of his heartbeat pounded through his ears. A shaky breath escaped him, and then a hand, warm and deadly, grasped his jaw. It hurt. It hurt to move, it hurt to think, it hurt to breathe.

It hurt to live.

Irises focused on a smug smile that possessed the pair of surprisingly delicate-looking lips. Sly white bangs brushed against pale white skin and eyes that sapped from Mukuro the last of his strength mocked at him with a deadly gaze. Ice-cold hands gripped him, and his trident slipped from his fingers before falling to the floor with a metallic clatter. "Do you still remember that confident look you had when I saw through you?" Poison seeped through his ears, numbing him and sending a shock wave of alarm down his back. Teeth cut into his bottom lip to restrain the pained gasp from leaving him as those strong fingers gripped at his wounds, tracing severed skin and muscle. "No?" A sickly sweet breath tickled his face, and scattered red appeared in his vision. Shit, shit. He wasn't about to fall this low, was he? Shit. If he'd listened to Nagi for once. If he'd listened to that now-mysterious form of a man called Sawada Tsunayoshi. If he hadn't been blinded the way he was, he wouldn't be blind the way he was now. It was too late, perhaps. Next time. He'd have another chance, in another lifetime. It wouldn't be that bad.

"But what about this lifetime?" The stray indigo bangs that obscured his vision were brushed aside by a warm hand, and a large violet gaze seared into him, pulling him into silence. The question hung between them, an obstacle to overcome. There was a barely audible sigh, and she broke the gaze, face burying into his chest. Arms enclosed the slight, less-than healthy feminine figure, and the scent of lavender lulled his nostrils. "It just seems," she mumbled, "as if you don't care."

A blink. "But I do, Nagi." He was confused. Of course he cared. What did he do that made her think otherwise? Everything- nearly everything- he'd accomplished and chose was with her in mind, if not entirely then partially, at least.

"I know." The timeless, tiresome reply. "But life is... life is worth something, you know."

Puzzlement brewed in him. "I've always valued you."

There was a shuffling movement that he interpreted as a shaking of her head. "But your life is valued too. Don't throw it away."

"Kufufu." An amused chuckle rang out. "My life isn't tissue paper, Nagi. You worry too much."

Yeah, he'd been right, hadn't he? His life wasn't tissue paper. It was worth less- toilet paper. And with the life draining from him, drawn from him by the Antichrist that resided within the white-haired bastard, it was about to go. Slick fingers, not his own, slipped between his fingers, tracing the metal rings there with a parasitic touch. "One, two... and three. You've been a bad boy, Vongola Mist."

Anger boiled in him. "I will... n-not be associ-"

"You're hardly in a shape to complain." Smooth words cut off his choked words effortlessly, and Mukuro could feel those monstrous fingers working to twist one of the rings from his finger. No. Warnings, protests, and struggles resurfaced. An ill-balanced retraction of his arm jerked the rings out of his reach. "Funny." A hand with more strength that its slender looks suggested gripped his wrists, pulling them over his head. "It's a good thing you've been bad. Now... I plan to use you to the fullest extent."