The deliberate and pre-planned use of the Ten-Year Bazooka does not, in fact, move them a full ten years. They are three months shy of that. Without the interference of the time machine, however, it transports people exactly ten years. Lambo is too young, too hyperactive to realize the situation he is in for only five minutes at a time while he is generally crying too hard to see clearly.

When Tsuna gets hit by the Bazooka six months before Shoichi's plans are put in play, it is coincidence. Accident.

And timed horribly.

Tsuna finds himself in an empty room, on a chair covered in blood. Those in his time are confronted with something altogether worse.

Slip

When the Ten-Year Bazooka goes off in a scuffle between Gokudera and Lambo and hits Tsuna while Reborn is trying to beat some math knowledge into his student's head, the hitman expected the smoke and the place-swap.

If he were honest (which he was, at least with himself) he was curious to see where his student stood in ten years.

When the clearing smoke showed a form lying still and Reborn caught the first whiff of blood-tang on the air, he jumped down from the table and ran to his (ten-year-older) student's side.

His heart froze in his chest, a sickening tightness, and he reached with trembling fingers to check for a pulse.

The body was still warm, a bloody patch spread out across its chest and Reborn's instinctive check proved that it was an exit-wound, that Tsuna had been shot from behind. From the otherwise neat attire, he'd been in or on his way to or from some kind of meeting.

Sniped.

Exactly ten years.

Gokudera fell still behind him as Lambo ran out of the room laughing, not having noticed. Reborn spared a silent thanks that the child was gone.

"Juudaime?"

It felt like he was hearing Gokudera's voice from a distance, but he was trying to sort out possibilities. They had ten years, ten years exactly. "Gokudera, write down the date and time. Now."

Tsuna's skin hadn't begun to cool and the blood wasn't even tacky. He'd been dead less than eight minutes. Perhaps less than five, and Reborn could only pray that their Tsuna didn't come back dead, too. (Would that be a paradox? But Lambo was different every time, if only subtly. He knew of the Tri-ni-sette's abilities, so perhaps it was only snatching from timelines possible from where they stood at a given moment. Which meant this might not be their Tsuna's future… but also meant that their Tsuna might well be dead.)

He could hear Gokudera obeying numbly, "Reborn, what…" the choked-off question asked everything at once.

"This is… he was shot from behind by a sniper rifle of some kind." Reborn didn't recognize the type exactly, but with a ten-year difference, that was probably because whatever it was hadn't yet been made. "Probably in a meeting. We can… if our Tsuna—" he cut himself off, but Gokudera's tortured keen meant the bomber understood. "We can prevent this," Reborn stated. "It's been barely minutes, he's still warm and the blood hasn't started to dry. If we're careful, we can prevent this."

And then the smoke washed over him again, and their Tsuna was back, looking shocked with blood on his back. Reborn darted to look him over, to make sure it was only residue, that it wasn't their Tsuna's blood.

"I'm fine," Tsuna said shakily, wide-eyed and pale. "I'm okay."

Gokudera fell to his knees beside them and when he pulled the Sky into a desperate pat-down himself, Tsuna didn't protest. "Juudaime," he breathed out, sounding broken.

"Tsuna. What happened?"

"I don't—I don't know," Tsuna managed. "There was a note on the table, but it wasn't signed. Just—mocking. Other than that and the blood, the room was empty, but the blood was still warm and so were the other chairs."

Treachery, then. Tsuna had been with trusted people, if there were no signs of alarm and the room had been so recently deserted.

Reborn felt sick.

His student had been shot down in a premeditated fashion by traitors. That was unacceptable.

"Dame-Tsuna. We're going to step up your training."

xxxx