He had known the moment that they had returned from the future-that-wouldn't-be, that he truly couldn't do it.

He couldn't pretend as if nothing happened. (As if his hands weren't dripping red.)

He couldn't even look his friends and family in the eye. (He couldn't face his own reflection.)

And he most fucking certainly couldn't accept the way everyone was just okay. (As if what he had done was in any way forgiveable.)

Nothing of what happened was 'okay'. It couldn't be. And the fact that his friends, his guardians, fuck, that all of those who had regained the memories of that rearranged future were honestly unbothered by his actions, unbothered by or even approving of the blood coating his hands, the sin suffocating his soul? It – he had rarely if ever been so afraid of the people surrounding him, not even when his bullies had been at their worst had he felt so afraid of another human being. Only one person had managed to make him fear even more for everything he loved and held dear … and that person had forced him to choose between kill or be killed.

How – how could the persons he loved like family, how could his own damn family, actually inspire a similar fear? Who the hell were those people, to be amiable with something so reprehensible? With murder? They certainly weren't who he thought they were.

… he had killed another living being.

He was a killer.

In what world could that ever be okay?
Not in his.

Takeshi just smiled as if everything was still the same, that sickening empty and fake smile.

Hayato was even more blinded by their so-called victory, he hadn't actually spoken Tsuna's name once since their return, it had only been 'Tenth' that whole fucking time.

Ryohei-Onii-chan seemed to take it in stride and just called it an extreme experience – as if their fight for survival had been anything horrifying.

Hibari-san actually seemed satisfied with how everything played out, and he had started to call Tsuna a Carnivore in a way that made young sky hate himself even more.

Chrome's presence had been sparse the last few weeks, the same as Mukuro's, but the older boy had remarked painfully casually that at long last, Tsuna's blood seemed to be winning out.

Lambo … was Lambo. Thankfully the child didn't seem to grasp just how disgusting his Nii-chan truly was.

And Reborn?

Reborn was proud.

Tsuna was sick.

Of his friends. Of his family. But most of all?

Of himself.

There were three possible paths in his future.Three paths, and he spent countless nights weighting their pros and cons, debating for one or another. Nights in which he woke trenched in sweat, silencing his screams into the pillow, nights spent heaving his meager meals up above the toilet, nights in which the tears were so violent that he nearly fainted struggling for each breathe.

Nights of terror, of regret. Of begging for forgiveness, for punishment – for anything at all.

But no amount of prayers would ever change the fact that he had killed Byakuran. It didn't matter that it hadn't happened yet in this timeline, that in all honesty, it wouldn't happen now. What mattered was that he remembered it.

He remembered the moment that he killed the other boy.

And that made all the difference.

Path one was to take it lying down. To accept what he had done, what he would be forced to do again, and again, and again. Be the pushover everyone expected him to be. The Mafia wasn't all sun-flowers and rainbows and unicorns. It was blood and violence and sin.

His guardians had accepted that and had – adapted. Worryingly so.

Path two was to make a final cut, literally and figuratively, to just stop … everything. He didn't even know how long he would be able to keep up this tiring game of trying to appear normal, trying to eat and sleep and go to school. To try and make his precious people proud of him, selling his soul to the devil all the while. But the longer it went on, the more desperate he got, the crueler and bleaker the world looked.

Why remain in a world so … cold? It was all just pretense, fake it or don't make it. And a part of Tsuna, a part that had, even before Reborn crashed his life, been lurking in the background, whispering harsh realities into his ears, grew louder and more hateful with every day. And the more involved with the Mafia they became, with each damn time he had been forced to use violence and to hurt others in protection of his friends and family, the louder that horrible, eerily convincing voice got.

Why not draw the line now?

Why not put a stop to this useless life?

The idea of peace in death was becoming alarmingly appealing, and in the end, he knew that path one would inevitably lead to path two, so why prolong his suffering and bother people with his existence, putting them in danger from a monster like him?

It was a path that was attractive to him, one he had pondered it just that once too often in the past, for it to be a simple case of teenage dramatics.

Which led him to path three – a path he wouldn't have anticipated ever really taking if it weren't for a chance encounter with an old friend, someone who, with just a few words, while exuding a contentedness and happiness he envied so deeply, in just one hurried conversation, gave him the spark of something back which he had thought completely lost.

Hope.

Path three was hope. It was resolution. It was taking his fate into his own hands.

It was looking forwards, with tears in your eyes, pain in your heart, and the indomitable will to stand your ground for your own morals and principles.

It was unimaginable.

It was desperation.

It was … a possibility.

And in the end, it was the fact that his father, his irresponsible and useless lump of a father, congratulated him on putting Byakuran down properly, which sealed the deal for him.

The moment his father approved of him, Tsuna didn't feel proud nor did he want to end his life.

Oh no.

It was in that moment, the careless damning words of his father ringing in his ears, that, unknown to everyone else, Tsuna's eyes burned a bright clear orange, his flames firming into something incredible as a resolve unlike any other filled his entire being.

He would not bow.

He would not bend or break.

He was going to start new, somewhere far away, somewhere no one knew him, somewhere he could be true to himself – in a place where he would be able to taste the one thing he hadn't been allowed to experience since he had been five.

Freedom.

Tsuki-chan had been a friend when he was still a kindergartener. They had been in the same children dance group, until the Ninth had sealed him and he had become so clumsy, that dance would have been an open invitation for even more mockery and accidents. There was no reason to give the baby bullies even more ammunition. Tsuna had been forced to stop, and Tsuki had to move away, three years later. They hadn't heard from each other since then, and he had only met her by chance, seeing as she was visiting her aunt for the holidays. But it was enough to get talking, and to learn that she now attended a specialized Middle School for the Performing Arts in Tokyo, and was preparing to take up dance as a study once she entered High School.

Tsuna was so happy for her – but he couldn't deny the sharp pain of envy and regret.

Envy that she got to live a life of her own choosing, of pursuing what she loved the most, and regret because he would love to do the same.

The feeling didn't leave him once they parted.

It started to grow.

Roots.

Deep deep down.

Was there anything to keep him here?

His mom was happy with her pseudo-children. Happier than she had ever been with her actual son.

His guardians would be okay, they had made their choices and clearly didn't care to ask after the decisions he had made. It wasn't as if they even wanted him around all that much, and honestly, being around them had slowly started to turn from a disillusioned discomfort with who they were starting to become, into an actual dislike to their very presence on his part.

Reborn? Was paid to be there. He would be paid for another job just as well, and, as the world's greatest hitman often liked to remind him of, Tsuna was merely a job for the man. There was no attachment on the hitman's part.

Because underneath all the excuses? He had no reasons to stay …

… but every reason to disappear.

One way or another.

Path one was out, because it would inevitably lead to path two, no 'if' about it, there was only the certainty of 'when' there.

Path two was a possibility, it even was a comfort at times, to be safe in the knowledge that if everything became too much, there was a way out - but after being a failure all his life, that bright burning flame in his soul demanded that he at least gave life one more fucking chance - the seal was taken care of, he could finally try to be more than it had ever allowed him to be before.

Path three would mean cutting ties with everyone he knew, it would mean being alone and unable to depend on anyone. It would mean uncertainty but also the welcome chance to be his own person. Path three would mean that he wouldn't ever again need to b-bloody his hands like … like that. And while it shouldn't be as comforting as it actually was, the whisper in the back of his head kept reminding him that even if path three failed, he could always revert back to path two.

Path three it was.

Freedom wasn't just a far-fetched dream now.

It was a goal.

And Tsuna would reach for it, no matter what.

Try or die.

Literally.

He didn't take much with him.

His birth certificate, a change of clothing, a few photos that reminded him of better times.

Money.

Hopefully his mom would forgive him for taking the holiday money. He was feeling guilty enough, but he was also realistic enough to know that without money, he wouldn't get far.

At all.

After all, accomplishing the first steps on his new path needed a lot of money.

Wow. One piece of unwanted knowledge departed onto him by Reborn that he was actually grateful for. Through, honestly?

Tsuna grinned as he imagined the hitman's face once he found out what his student had done with that advice.

Reborn had no one to blame but himself for Tsuna's ability to disappear of the face of the world. Which that was exactly what he was about to do.

He had taken a lot lying down, he had swallowed his pain and rage, repeatedly, he had suffered for mistakes and sins not his own, and he had tried to adapt for the sake of everyone but himself.

He truly had tried.

But everyone had a breaking point – his had been cracked.

They had demanded one horror to many of him.

The moment that broke him, had been the moment he had killed a human.

He didn't care that in some way, it could be constructed as self-defense, as a fight to the death, that some may be able to rationalize it, to see it in a different way.

Objectively, he knew they even had points, but …

He couldn't see it that way.

Tsuna was a killer, plain and simply. That was the guilt, the horror he would have to live with for the rest of his days. He never wanted to hurt another person; he didn't want another sin added to his conscience. He would try to be a better human being, but no matter how much he would try to be someone others could depend on, no matter how much he would try to do penance for his ...his …

It couldn't be enough.

It never could.

But … it was better than becoming an even crueler monster - the monster that Vongola was trying to mold him into.

No more.

He was done.

Curtain closed.

Sayonara.

The hood of his sweater was up, a lone bag swung over his shoulder. He averted the focus of the cameras in the train station, and paid his ticket to Tokyo in hard cash. His steps were sure and easy, so unlike his normal gate, as he boarded the crowded train, his posture so relaxed and confident, it seemed as if he was another person.

No one checking the train station's security recording would ever suspect his identity.

Tsuna settled down on a seat, headphones on, music turned up, and closed his eyes.

The train gave a sudden start and slowly picked up speed.

Sawada Tsunayoshi didn't look back.

~ The End. Do you want a Sequel?