Nana's boys were four when the world crashed and burned around her.

The story went like this:

A relatively nice day – warm and sunny and full of the promise of spring.

Nana – busy in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the front yard where her sons were running after a ball while she got their afternoon snacks ready.

Squeals and giggles filled the air.

Everything was normal, just like Nana wanted it.

Steady and quiet and familiar.

Then the phone rang, and her little black and white world suddenly exploded in a firework of blinding colors.

(Iemitsu).

She rushed out of the house for some last-minute shopping, her mind bustling with recipes and ingredients. There was so much to prepare, so much to do − too much, really − and a twenty-four-hour warning was not enough to get everything organized. But it was alright. Nana could deal with short time notices and last-minute phone calls if it meant she would finally, finally, get the chance to prove that the four of them belonged together.

The local grocery store was packed. She danced her way down the different aisles and threw anything that caught her fancy into the cart, barely aware that Natsume and Tsunayoshi were watching her with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

Nana beamed at them, explaining for the tenth time in so many minutes that "Papa is coming home."

That... was not met by unanimous cheers.

The twins blinked, not understanding what the fuss was about, and even though Nana was all but vibrating with happiness, even though she felt like laughing and laughing and never stopping − something small and fragile still withered and died in her chest as she saw her boys' reactions.

Because pictures alone meant nothing. Because stories would never be enough. Because all the stories in the world couldn't explain to a pair of toddlers what a dad was.

(Sometimes, she felt like screaming that this wasn't what she'd been promised, that it wasn't − )

Nana squashed the ugly feeling under a giggle.

She squatted down and gently tweaked Na-chan's nose. "I'm sure your Papa can't wait to see you two again. Aren't you glad to finally meet him after so long, Na-chan? Tsu-kun?"

Her youngest let out a peal of laughter. "Yes! I want to play with Papa!"

Tsu-kun's eyes went wide. "M-me, too."

Nana giggled again, and this time it was genuine.

The three of them stepped out of the store half an hour later. It was already late in the evening and a beautiful sunset was painting the horizon in lovely hues of pink and purple.

Nana sighed happily at the sight, taking it as an encouraging sign. Surely the universe was stamping its approval on her family's impending reunion. Right?

Right.

Her arms full of grocery bags, she did some careful balancing and precarious jostling to transfer everything to her left side so that she could grab Tsu-kun's hand. Without needing any prompting, Tsu-kun immediately reached out and snatched his little brother's flailing fist from the air, gently bringing the blubbering boy closer to his side. Brown eyes looked up at Nana, warm and calm and trusting, and she had to resist the urge to squeal at the adorable face.

She settled for a big smile. "Let's go, my darlings."

They started the ten-minute walk home, Nana cheerfully leading the way, her children trailing after her like baby ducklings. She dodged the few pedestrians moving around them, noting that the evening crowd was starting to thin out.

Na-chan's chirpy voice filled her ears non-stop, a constant flow of childish chatter that encompassed everything and anything from the stars in the sky to the colony of ants digging holes in their backyard. Nana grinned down at him, her chest filled with pride. Natsume was such a bright boy, so full of life and curiosity. He drew in everyone around him like a magnet, his personality attracting attention from adults and children alike, as if his presence, his very existence, was impossible to overlook.

A little further ahead, the street widened into a large crossroad.

Nana turned left, disappearing down a small alley that lead back to their neighborhood.

"Mama? Ma-ma." Na-chan was trotting a bit ahead of Tsu-kun, his head twisted to the side so that he could look back at her. He pouted. "You're not listening."

"Of course I'm listening, Na-chan." Nana laughed, took a deep breath, and confirmed that yes, robots most definitely were the best-est heroes in the whole wide world, and that no, Hizashi-san, the nice old man living down their street was not, in fact, an alien from outer space. And no – definitely, no – jumping down from the roof wouldn't let Na-chan fly. Ever.

In contrast to his little brother's excited behavior, Tsu-kun remained silent as they walked, content to trail quietly in the wake of his loud twin.

Nana glanced down at her eldest, found him smiling up at her, and felt her own face lit up in response.

She never noticed the man until his shoulder had slammed into her own.

Hard.

He was very big and she was not.

The impact sent her stumbling back a step.

Nana yelped, surprised, and lost the grip she had around the heavy grocery bags she carried. They flew from her arms, crashing onto the sidewalk. Fruits and vegetables rolled in every direction, her oranges and onions spilling from the bags as if making a mad bid for freedom.

Nana quickly dropped to her knees with a stammered sorry, letting go of Tsu-kun's hand in her hurry.

Before anything else could be said, she caught sight of the man's dark shoes disappearing just around the corner at the end of the alley, his steps hurried and sharp. Nana frowned, miffed that the stranger hadn't bothered with a single apology.

A small hand wrapped around the hem of her shirt and tugged slightly. "Mama?" Na-chan whispered, pressing himself against her side, his lips quivering. "You hurt?"

She smiled. "Don't worry, honey, I'm – ah! Tsu-kun, wait!"

Her other son had started to pick up the fruits from the ground, collecting them in his shirt. He was holding the fabric in front of him like a small pouch, slowly but surely going after the oranges that had rolled the farthest away from Nana.

"Just one more!" he called back, disappearing around the corner of a walled front yard.

Nana hastily threw a box of cereals into her bag, shoved one last apple in her pocket, then grabbed Na-chan's hand firmly with her own.

"Tsu-kun!" She scrambled after the older twin, frazzled and upset. "I already told you the other day when we went to the park, remember? You must always stay close to me. It's not … safe... to..."

The narrow alley between the classic suburban houses was empty.

A handful of oranges and apples were scattered on the pavement, still rolling with the momentum of an unexpected fall. One of them came to a stop right in front of Nana's feet, lightly kissing the tip of her left shoe.

A chill abruptly ran down her spine, leaving her cold and shivering.

"Tsu-kun?" She took a hesitant step forward, then walked to the next intersection and back again.

No answer. Just silence and the loud drum of her own pulse.

And within the space of two earth-shattering heartbeats, Nana knew.

"Tsu-kun, where are you?" A strangled gasp wheezed out of her chest. She dropped the grocery bags again and didn't care this time when fruits and drinks and fish splattered everywhere around her. She snatched Na-chan in her arms and held him tight as she moved in a slow circle. "Tsu-kun! Tsuna!"

Nothing.

No sweet voice calling back to her, no sheepish boy to offer her a shy smile of regret.

Something in Nana broke.

She ran down the alley, then another one and another one again, yelling her son's name, all but mad with panic, feeling as if the air had been punched right out of her lungs.

She didn't find him. Tsu-kun had vanished into thin air and she did not know what to do.

Nana eventually rushed back home and alerted the police. Officers and volunteers were soon carefully combing the neighborhood, looking for Tsuna, friends and family joining the search with concerned faces and worried looks aimed at Nana. She called Iemitsu, hit his voice mail, and left a message ‒ a blubbering mess about shopping and oranges and losing their eldest son ‒ before dashing back out of the house, white-hot disbelief keeping her walking all over Namimori late into the night.

They didn't find him.

Her Tsu-kun had disappeared.

Iemitsu arrived the following day, unsmiling and surrounded by dozens of men dressed in black suits. They were a gift from his boss, he told her, to help look for their Tsuna-fish and make sure that Na-chan would be safe.

Nana didn't really care about his lies as long as he brought her boy back home.

Except that he did not.

Days after excruciating days of waiting in vain passed, then weeks and months. A man in an official uniform finally sat her down in a chair at the police station and told her that Tsu-kun was still nowhere to be found, that there were no clues, that too much time had passed.

"But we'll keep looking, ma'am," he tried to reassure her. "We won't give up."

All Nana heard was, your son is gone, and you'll never see him again.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to curse at them and shake them and demand results. She wanted to die.

Hell, Nana learned during those first terrible months, was not a bottomless pit made of scarlet brimstones and raging firestorms burning hotter that the sun. No, people had it wrong. They had it completely wrong, because Nana's hell was made of what if, and should have, and could have. It smelled of rotting regrets and devastating heartache cold enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

(Your fault.)

Rest was a comfort she did not deserve, did not want, and so Nana did not sleep. She wandered aimlessly around the house instead, picking up the habit somewhere along the line of slipping in Na-chan's bedroom during the middle of the night. She could sit silently by his bed for hours on end, counting his breaths, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Time passed.

The terror eventually loosened the chokehold it had around her throat, growing just a little bit less lethal as months turned into years. The bleeding hole that had appeared where her heart used to be closed up into an awful, twisted scar. It was ugly and messy but at least it no longer threatened to tear open each time she dared to breathe too deep. Nana even learned to ignore the monster hiding under that scar. She slowly became able to dismiss the terrible words that floated in her mind during the dead of the night. She buried them under a smile and a laugh until one day she managed to look at Na-chan without giving in to the urge of wrapping her arms around him and never, ever, let go again.

She watched him walk through the gates of Namimori's elementary school with his friends and turned around to go back home, eyes dry and a smile fixed on her face.

She sent him off to middle school and high school with a kiss and a lunch-box, all the while inwardly chanting that it was okay, that everything was fine, just fine, perfectly fine.

(Don't be silly, don't cry, don't break, don'tdon'tdon't ‒)

It was a daily struggle, a never-ending battle, and Nana fought so hard every step of the way.

And yet it wasn't always enough.

Sometimes, in spite of her best efforts, Nana's weakness won and the monster's whispers of all your fault and you deserve this grew too loud. It summoned pictures in her head that were too horrible to contemplate and too ugly to ignore. And then, inexorably, like a shadow, even after years and years had passed, Nana would drift back into Na-chan's room while he slept to confirm that he was still breathing, that at least one of her boys was still there.

But it never stopped hurting.

(All. Your. Fault.)

.

.

Tsuna woke up with a start, scared and his heart racing hard and fast against his ribcage.

He was lying on a flat, cold surface. Everything around him was plunged in complete darkness. He couldn't see anything.

His breath hitched in his throat, a strangled gasp that seemed to explode like a thunderclap in the absolute silence.

"Mama?" he called, his voice a wobbly little squeak. The faint sound resonated all around him, creating an intimidating echo that reminded him of cavernous holes and gaping emptiness.

Tsuna frantically looked around, widening his eyes almost painfully in an attempt at piercing the thick darkness.

It didn't work.

A small whimper tore its way out of his chest. He pressed himself hard on the floor, feeling very small and helpless.

Was someone in there with him? He didn't think so − didn't have that strange tingly feeling he sometimes got when people he didn't like were watching him from afar. But then again, Tsuna had only sensed the Bad Man's presence after it had already been too late to do anything about it. Big arms had closed around him like twin bands of iron, unyielding and merciless, and had lifted him in the air. Tsuna remembered the feeling of apples and oranges tumbling from his hands as he was jerked backward against an unfamiliar wall of muscles. The scream building in his chest had never made it out in the open before a wet clothe had been pressed over his face. And then − nothing.

His body started to shake.

He wanted to go home. He wanted Mama and Na-kun and even the Papa-person his mother wouldn't stop talking about.

Sharp hiccups shattered the deafening silence.

Tsuna struggled to breathe in between whimpers. He tucked his body in a tight ball of quivering limbs as violent sobs wracked his whole frame. He started to feel dizzy, his head light and empty and spinning.

Mama had always called him her brave boy, and it had never failed to make him flush with pleasure – especially that one time when Na-kun had kicked his favorite ball under the porch and Mama had been too big to crawl under the steps to get it back. He hadn't wanted to do it, hadn't wanted to go into that dark opening where monsters could hide and pounce on him. But Na-kun had been crying so hard, his mother had looked so upset, and Tsuna had gotten down on his hands and knees and dragged himself toward the lost ball. And it had been worth it to flounder in damp dirt and have creepy bugs run all over his hands and face. Mama's smile had been blinding and the hug from Na-kun had made him feel all warm and happy inside.

What a brave boy you are, Tsu-kun. Mama's so proud.

A small part of Tsuna's mind replayed his mother's words as he hugged his knees to his chest, salty tears running down his face. He didn't feel particularly brave just then. Didn't feel anything but the bottomless pit of stark terror deep in his belly.

A door somewhere on his left banged open.

Tsuna started violently, jerking around to shield his eyes from the sudden flood of light. He blinked rapidly, dazed, and automatically took in the room he was in. As expected, it was empty, its walls bare and white. It was also big. Very big. Tsuna thought that it might have been even bigger than his house and front yard and backyard all put together.

Also, there was no trace of Mama or Na-kun. He was alone.

The sound of footsteps pulled Tsuna's attention back to the newcomers.

Two men had entered the room. One was tall and dark haired, dressed in jeans and a blue button-up shirt. His features were set in a bored expression but his eyes were bright and cheerful. The second man was shorter, slimmer, his hair a shade of blond so light that Tsuna had only ever seen it in the movies Na-chan liked so much. He was wearing a long white coat that reached down to his knees. He looked like a doctor – but not really.

Tsuna tensed.

Something in his chest tightened, a flare of heat that whispered danger and hide and run.

Tsuna crawled back until his back hit a wall.

Somehow, that seemed to exasperate the smaller man. He sighed. "Buon giorno, piccolo leone."

Tsuna's mouth opened then closed. He stared.

The man's brows furrowed. Tsuna huddled harder against the wall, wrapping his arms around his knees.

(Danger!)

"W-where is Mama?" he asked.

The blond man squatted down in front of him. A stream of strange words fell from his lips. He glanced at the other stranger and said one firm, "Fallo."

The taller man nodded and stepped forward. He smiled.

Tsuna scrambled up to his feet. A scream filled his head.

(Run!)

The man pulled one fist back. And let it fly.

Fierce agony exploded in Tsuna's side. He collapsed on the floor, his head bouncing back against the hard surface, and lied there, winded and shocked and in pain.

He had never been hit before. Not by his Mama, not by his brother, or by anyone else.

Tsuna looked up at the tall man and knew it was only just the beginning.

Why, he wanted to ask. Whywhywhywhywhy −

The small man in the white coat frowned. Another series of incomprehensible gibberish filled the air. Tsuna could only stare. The deep lines that marred the man's forehead creased. His expression was clear enough. He was annoyed.

A slap this time.

Tsuna's head whipped to the right. He cried out, hands weakly flying up to protect his face. Something warm trickled down his cheek. It was red and thick. The word blood did not register until he felt its metallic taste on his tongue.

Then a foot caught him into his belly.

Tsuna slid over the floor, the momentum of the kick carrying him to the middle of the room. He coughed. A weird, rattling sound started deep in his chest.

The tall stranger sauntered over to where Tsuna had come to a stop, and there was no time for crying, or begging, or escaping. A large hand closed around his neck. Tsuna choked as he was pulled into the air by nothing but the long fingers wrapped around his throat.

The big man brought his face very close to Tsuna's. His breath was warm and smelled of something fresh and minty. "Brucia," he said cheerfully. "It means you have to burn, Tsuna-kun. Let your Flames out. Come on, show me you're still the same. Even now, in this place."

All around him, the world was growing duller, somehow distant and disconnected from everything.

Tsuna didn't know anything about death, but he instinctively recognized dying. He saw it stalking closer as the edges of his vision darkened, heard it in the shrill ringing that started in his ears, felt it in the spinning sensation that stuffed his head full of cotton and made him want to throw up.

Tsuna was never going back home.

He was never going to see Mama and Na-kun again.

The tall man was still talking, his words blending into each other without making any sort of sense. He shook Tsuna a little, and even though his body was seconds away from shutting down, even though he was sort of falling asleep, a small part of Tsuna's brain idly noted that the other man, the smaller bully in a white coat, was getting impatient.

With him.

Like one of those mean boys at the playground and started to throw a tantrum.

Tsuna's eyes snapped open.

(How dare you.)

A storm of outrage rushed in his veins, a blend of enough, and I'll hurt you, and let me go.

Those men had taken him from Na-kun and Mama. They had locked him away. They had made him bleed.

Burn, the man, the monster, had said.

And Tsuna − four-year-old, terrified, dying Tsuna – thought, yes. Yes, burn.

He reached up for the wrist attached to the hand that was strangling him. His fingers closed around warm skin.

It melted.

"Merda!" The man yelped and jerked back, releasing him with a startled laugh that was all delighted surprise. Tsuna plummeted down and slammed into the floor. He didn't feel any pain when his forehead smacked against cool tiles.

He just glared up at the two bullies and screamed.

The world burst into howling flames.

Tsuna let it burn.

.

.

... hm, hi?

Here's the prologue of a plot-bunny that's been stalking me for several months. I finally gave in and started to write it. It's going to be somewhat cliche and mostly self-indulging, but I still want to get it out in the open.

I've been a lurker on this site for years now but, hey, it's never too late to start, right?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Rei.