Disclaimer: KHR is not my property. No profit is made from this fanfiction.

And only by our choices

"How easy it must be," the woman mocks him, clutching her husband's ring as Tsuna informs her, oh so gently, of his honourable death while investigating a rival famiglia suspected of human trafficking. "how easy it must be, to sit on that comfy little chair and hand out their deaths in cream coloured files!" Her voice rises in pitch, and she jerks forward toward the pile of files, but she bares her teeth in a growl instead and presses her husband's ring (Vongola rings are so strong they will survive a grenade explosion point blank. Vongola bodies, however, are still human. And weak.) to her mouth, muttering the Lord's prayer.

Beside him, Gokudera tenses and a storm brews in the air. Tsuna shifts, moves his hand under the table to press against Gokudera's in a warning. Grief, he tries to convey, grief is not a reason to hurt. The storm wavers and dissipates before it can fully form, blind to all but her pain, the woman glares hatefully at him.

"So easy for the high and mighty," she mutters, a sob building up in the cracks and hiccups, "you don't know anything about death and suffering," she screeches.

A bullet. Oblivion. A coffin full of lilies. Cream coloured folders. Widows, orphans, parents, all screaming

"Give him back, give my husbandwifechildsisterbrother ba—" a sob escalating into a thin reedy wail, hands lunging over his desk, folders spilling onto the floor like milky blood, bodyguards bursting in and firmly dragging the inconsolable woman away.

Tsuna does not say a word.

A shift in the air as Gokudera silently bends down and neatens the stack of mission folders, gently placing them onto the desk. Picking up the fourth from the top, he flicks through and like so many before him puts in front of Tsuna's tiredtired gaze.

"I would like to request his mission, please." All the voices blur into one, and in the end they all choose the same fate.

Soundlessly, Tsuna picks up his specially crafted Vongola Decimo seal, presses it against the red ink pad and down goes the seal so begins another game of Russian roulette. Gokudera bows his thanks and leaves, back straight and that damning folder tucked to his side.

As the door closes behind him, Tsuna wonders if the next time, Bianchi'll be the one in his office screaming at him. He cannot find it in himself to care.

Tsuna has no true power as Decimo.

He cannot even force his people to choose to live.

Shall you judge us.