Well, hello dear new reader!

As I don't really how to present myself (first time in the English Reborn! fandom) or advertise this story better, I'll just tell some things that may be interesting.

So, this story was first a saga of four One-shots in the French fandom and I decided to translate it. But, as I'm such (not) a good translator, I cut it in little chapter, almost like drabbles to be honest. Also, this story is pure R27, even if the first arc (or first OS in the French version) doesn't seem so.
And it'll have angst (because Adult Reborn and angst are so good together) and fluffy moments.

So, did I advertise this story well? No?
Then, here's the first chapter.

Il Maestro

First Arc

I

The sound of gunshots awoke him.

Dull brown eyes cracked open before closing sharply. The light in his dusty hiding place had blinded him, almost as if the sun had given him an uppercut on the nose.

He frowned at the thought and smiled wearily.

His lips weren't stretched for a long time as an explosion shook the cubby hole he was hiding in, and the windows shattered loudly.

A lull came up and his eyes darkened as he understood the reason behind that calm. They were counting their dead.

The man felt some queasiness before pushing it aside. He didn't have the time to mourn over the countless dead he had caused. Not now.

Later.

His stomach was still growling like a starving beast, (he had finished his food stack a few days ago and his hideaway was monitored since two or three days. He couldn't get out of this death trap), the man crawled on all fours in his decaying hideaway and came up in front of an old telly which screen had been shattered some months ago (when they had announced him the deaths of his most cherished beings) . Without hesitating, he passed his hand through the hole, scratching his palm with the sharp pieces of glass that littered the hole, and pushed on a secret button. A click could be heard and a part of the floor sled with a creaking hiss as the mechanism hadn't been used for years.

Holding his breath, he jumped in the gap and lifted his dull eyes towards the ceiling. The floor began to slide back, and he could breathe freely again. The sound of a blown-up door could be heard and the man tensed. Steps sounded faintly above his head and he closed his eyes, muttering indistinct words. At the moment where his life was on the line, he couldn't stop remembering those happy days.

When they were all alive, smiling.

He opened his eyes and lowered them to his hands clasped like a bad imitation of a prayer and he looked with a macabre detachment the blood running over his fingers and beginning to soak his silver ring reigning on his middle finger.

Without even noticing, he began to rotate the ring around his finger, spreading the blood all over his hand. But that didn't disturb him. After all, he had had his hands coated in blood for years. In their blood.

The steps decreased till they vanished. He lifted his head, sniffing the air like a hunted beast would have and got up to make the pannel slide again. His eyes scanned his surroundings and he concealed a grimace when he noticed the exploded futon as well as the numerous marks of violence all over the cubbyhole. Then, he saw it.

A heap of pictures, all in black and white, put on the little table, the only thing that was kept on good state in the cubbyhole. His fingers shook when he took the pictures. They continued shaking when he burned the pictures with his flames.

Tears pearled in his eyes and he let them run without even trying to wipe them.

The pictures of those inert and bloody bodies vanished that night in the flames of his fury. However, those pictures were going to join the pantheon of the dead that haunted his soul every night.

The man shook his head while sniffing. His hair, that he hadn't washed or cut since long ago, fell on compact waves over his face and he grimaced when he felt the grime that soaked it.

When had he become that despicable?

A nervous sob choked his throat and he began to laugh coldly. When had he begun to act like a wild beast? Never hesitating to reply a hit by another hit, dead by dead?

He gnashed and lifted his eyes to the ceiling studded by damp patches. When was his last civilized discussion?

Probably when they had announced him their deaths.

His eyes clouded over, and he dropped himself on the exploded futon. The fatigue weighted heavily on his body and he knew that he was safe for the moment.

The innocent chirps of birds awoke him. He jumped with a start and took a defensive stance, his eyes looking for slightest sign of an imminent attack. His injury hand tingled.

He observed it and grimaced. If he didn't treat it quickly, it could be gravely infected.

He had to get out of here.

He blinked and took out from various caches several weapons, in particular a Beretta 92, the last present he had been given before the death waltz began. Finally, he took his keys and prepared himself to leave his cubbyhole. At the same time as he got out, bullets flew over and he had to unpin a grenade to throw it to his enemies. Taking advantage of the following confusion, he took a car and drove like a madman to the downtown. Once he was sure that nobody was following him, he abandoned the car with no regrets and took the public transports. It was then that he noticed the glances that the normal people gave him. He wrinkled his nose and sighed deeply.

What could he do if he looked in all points like a homeless man?

After changing several times his courses and the transports, the man finally arrived at a city that was uncomfortably familiar. It was there that all had begun.

It was there that Sawada Tsunayoshi, the scrawny sixteen years old teenager had ordered the Vongola headquarters construction. There that Byakuran had decided to begin his World domination plan.

Knowing perfectly that the Vongola base would be the most evident place that would come to his chasers' minds, he rushed in the entrance that the Discipline Committee members used previously.

His steps didn't make a lot of noise, they were smothered by the thick layer of dust that was all over the base. His eyes strayed, some memories from old times could strongly emerge if he dared to drop his shields. Then, he reached the engineers room.

His lips stretched slightly in a dim smile and he stepped hesitantly towards one of the generators that was still buzzing despite all the years that had passed. The man lifted a faltering hand and put it on the metal, wiping the dust that overlaid the generator and he read the label under all the grim.

«Time Machine »

His eyes lightened slightly, and he removed all the dust and cobwebs that coated all the place until the entire room could be seen. He observed the keyboards as well as the annotations. The three generators encircled a thin cabin that he remembered being a sunbed before the engineers decided to improve it a little. They were a lot of screen that were off too.

It was then that he noticed the tiny USB adorned with an orange 27.

He frowned and leaned over one of the computers that were in the room, pushing the ignition button and hoping madly that the power grid hadn't been cut down.

His prayers were listened as the machine came to live with several and familiar beeps. Then, after typing the password that he knew as all the Vongola members had, he could read the USB.

A file opened, and he clicked it to read it.

A little window opened this time and he blinked in surprise when he saw the familiar face of one of the engineers. The ginger and unruly hair as well as the green eyes behind spectacles were so familiar yet so sorrowful to see...

He pushed back the wave of feelings that threatened to overwhelm him and focused on the recorded video.

"Tsunayoshi," began the Irie Shoichi picture while he cleared his throat. "If you're watching this video, it means that Byakuran won and that all the others are dead. Normally, I should be too, and Spanner should be the one who gave you the USB..."

The man could be feel his throat tighten as he heard those names.

"But it may be that he's also dead," Irie continued darkly. "Even if you have the feeling that you have lost, there is still one last chance."

His eyes lightened suddenly and he watched closely the now dead teenager's pixelated features. A last chance?

No matter the difficulty that it may carry, he would take it unhesitatingly.

"However, if you choose to follow what I'm going to offer you, you'll die by the end of it," Irie warned seriously. "The death is unavoidable so think about it thoroughly."

A silence followed the sentence before the ginger haired teen sighed and kept on talking.

"I believe that you have accepted it. Here's the plan: with Spanner, we have experimented with the substances in Lambo's grenades and we built a machine to go back in time. To be short, its course is already set, you just have to insert the USB in the cabin USB port and the time machine will run by itself. However, we can't ensure at 100% that you'll go to the desired period. It's up to you to see if you risk it all with this chance..."

The video stopped and the man looked at the dead screen before sighing deeply.

"Time travel," he muttered hoarsely as he hadn't talked since months.

His lips stretched slowly and he showed his teeth like an animal would have done. If he time-traveled, he could save his friends, save everyone.

He approached the cabin and noticed a keyboard with only numbers on it. He raised his eyebrows and understood quickly the keyboard purpose. He inserted the USB in the expected port and typed some numbers to write the desired date.

Then, he got in the cabin without hesitation and glanced one last time at what had been his period. A crumbling down and dusty room where humidity was beginning to gnaw everything.

"Farewell No-Good-Tsuna," he whispered as he tensed his bloodied fingers.

Light blinded him and he had to shut his eyes close.

When he opened them again, a dizziness took him and he had to go on all fours to keep his balance. He looked with surprise at the greenery that surrounded him and recognized it by being Namimori forest.

He passed one hand through his long hair and grimaced when he felt the resistance. He really had to take a shower.

Suddenly, the realization of what he had just done came to him and he knelt on the grassy ground. His shoulders jolted and he began to laugh hysterically as he cried in relief.

He was in the past. Nobody could help him and he didn't have money or weapons.

His mitts had been destroyed for years and he only had his Vongola Gear. A mocking grin appeared slowly on his lips and he lifted his hand to admire it through the sun that was split in little rays that seeped between the green leaves. His fingers didn't seem bloodied anymore.

That was normal, the people that he had killed perhaps weren't even born in this time period.

He took a deep breath of the fresh air and his eyes narrowed slowly. His mission had just begun.

His back straighter than it had ever been since all those years ago, he disappeared into the depths of the Namimori forest.

As my other English fanfictions, if you see errors in the story, don't hesitate to tell me, I'll fix them right away.

Also, what did you think of this first chapter? Why don't you leave a review? ( ・ω・)