A/N: I'm alive. Just moved to China, have been staring at the 3/4 completed chapter of Caught in a Thousand Strings for months, was struck by the need to write an A/B/O story recently and here we are.

WARNING TAG: The first chapter contains a scene of attempted sexual assault on a child. It is plot-relevant and will be dealt with in-storyline. If you are particularly triggered by themes of sexual assault/abuse & consent, this story is probably not for you.

Chapter 1

"Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it?"

-Blade Runner (1982)

Sawada Tsunayoshi was a forgetful child. It was a trait he'd likely inherited from his mother, his neighbors would mutter to each other; indeed, cheerful Sawada Nana was a prime figure of ditziness, and little Tsuna did so take after his mother. With big amber eyes and pale skin, tufts of fluffy brown hair stuck out from his scalp, untameable with a comb. He smelled sweet, as most young Omega do – an indefinable sweetness, like cotton candy dissolved into the air. Ditziness could be endearing, at least for an Omega, and it wasn't as if an Omega like Tsuna needed to worry about anything outside of his home.

So when Tsuna forgot to bring a handkerchief, it was fine; Shiori-sensei lent him a new one, and made sure to throw it out once he'd used it.

He'd once trotted halfway to school before realizing he was still wearing his house slippers, resulting in a smiling Nana escorting him late to his kindergarten class.

A hundred, a thousand different instances culminated in the impression young Tsuna left on his community: a pitiful little Omega with a head full of fluff.

A forgetful child he may be, but little Tsuna was not always like that. But, of course, he had forgotten that – it just became so hard to hold onto the realization, along with basic coordination and, for a while, even short-term memories.

Because as it turned out, Flame suppression was not an exact science.

So when five year old Sawada Tsunayoshi had his active Flames sealed by a kind old man in a nice suit, under the watchful eyes of who his mother claimed was his father, Tsuna lost more than just his connection to the warmth of his inner fire. The effects were not obvious, and the two men had only stuck around long enough to make sure Tsuna woke up after the fact. Besides, who would notice anything strange in a little child tripping over their own two feet, or forgetting to do basic chores, or zoning out for long stretches of time?

And so for two years, little Tsuna slowly acclimated. No one paid him much mind, because as far as Namimori was conerned, Sawada Tsunayoshi was just a baby Omega with no remarkable features, a head full of air, and with no Alpha in the home.

And as many in his dynamic do: he will present in his teens (late teens if he is lucky, so that he may at least attend school somewhat reliably if futilely, early teens if his notorious brand of 'luck' continues on), and before he reaches his 20th birthday, he will be Mated and happily breeding out children of his own. Hopefully he will keep house as nicely as his Beta mother and his children will be bred from an Alpha with better mental faculties.

This is the future expected of Sawada Tsunayoshi.

It promptly dies on a late afternoon in chilly October, when Tsuna is seven years old.

Tsuna is playing alone at the neighborhood park; he was not alone ten minutes ago, when Takao-kun and his mother were near, but the other boy claimed he didn't want to be friends with "dumb Tsuna" and complained to his mother he was hungry. The woman had glanced between her son and the young Omega child he'd left behind in the sandbox, but experience with other Omega told her that Tsuna would just run on home with no one in the park left to play with, and so she left with her son in tow.

Tsuna would have left, as it was getting cold and his mother was likely almost finished preparing dinner, but his large amber eyes catch on the blazing orange of an autumn sunset, something – pleasant? unpleasant? – sparking in his chest but dying before it could even dare dredge up something in his mind.

A passing whim, a lingering thought – these delay Tsuna for an extra 20 minutes, but 20 minutes was all it took. A child, no matter Omega or Beta or Alpha, would not be able to gauge others with their senses until they properly presented – that is, went through puberty when their first and secondary genders fully developed. They could recognize by scent if a person drew close to them, but strangers had no business coming into such close contact with children, Omega children especially.

A sharp scent, one that Tsuna cannot properly describe because it's the first time he's confronted with a full-grown Alpha's aggression, a pheromone so thick that it stuns Tsuna into compliance. The spark has returned, beating as hard and fast as Tsuna's heart, but it is intermittently smothered like a candle in turbulent wind.

Tsuna is dragged out of the sandbox and into a bruising hold. He's carried away from the park, from view, into trees and shrubbery that block Tsuna's view of anything familiar. Tsuna does not know that this is because the Alpha male has no quick getaway, spurred into action by the sight of an Omega so small and vulnerable and alone, that this isn't even a planned abduction, only a spur of the moment cruelty brought on by opportunity.

So Tsuna is dropped onto the ground, because while it is known Omega crave gentle touch and soft surfaces, it does not register because it does not matter. Tsuna does not matter. He was nothing more than an opportunity snatched up.

The Alpha's pheromones are stifling, so much that Tsuna thinks he may choke on them. It is hard to move, but the point is moot when the Alpha's hands descend on him with vicious expectancy.

An Omega child does not have the strong pheromones developed that could help soothe a riled-up Alpha. Those were developed after they'd "presented" – the equivalent of a puberty for their second gender. For Tsuna's dynamic, that meant fully-developed scent glands that would be able to emit pheromones that could denote his emotional and physical state, a scent meant to entice prospective mates, and when the time came, catch the scent of the one he mated with to showcase their claim. His body would also fully develop, his genitalia fully-formed, able to self-lubricate and bear children.

An Omega child lacked the fully-formed uterus, the self-lubrication formed from their glands, the ability to emit their own distinctive scent outside of a mild sweetness that only turned biting when they were in distress but could not extend more than a couple meters from their body.

The Alpha's pheromones are screaming but Tsuna's cannot respond because he is a child, too young to do much more than whimper. Hands pull at his shirt, ripping fabric with their clawing ferocity, and the spark in Tsuna's chest flashes with a startling but familiar heat that momentarily clears the choking pheromones in his nose, just enough for Tsuna to draw in a breath to wail.

A growl is felt more than heard, a large hand clamping over Tsuna's mouth that robs his ability to breathe. The fire in Tsuna's chest blazes, swirling like a tightly-contained maelstrom, a voice whispering in young Tsuna's mind that 'I'm going to die, I'm going to die', his very own funeral dirge as an Alpha attempts to take more from Tsuna than just his life.

Hot, desperate breath ghosts over the sensitive flesh of Tsuna's neck, and even though he does not fully understand it, the flame in his chest is climbing further up just as teeth clamp down in an attempt to claim him.

To mark an Omega, an Alpha need only bite down on any exposed flesh and inject some of their pheromones into the Omega. A grown Omega would meet the pheromones with their own, their body would acclimate to the invasion, and depending on the circumstance – if willing, one bite may be enough to lay the Claim; if unwilling, the chemical make-up of the answering Omega pheromones could conflict with the invading Alpha's, allowing a short period where the Omega's body could actively reject the Claim.

To accept or to reject was a moot point for Omega children, because their bodies were not developed enough to meet the foreign invaders. It would cause an adverse reaction, their pheromones too weak to fight and their undeveloped bodies unable to answer the Claim. And so in answer, with a near 90% rate – Claimed Omega children died within the first hour.

On a late October afternoon, Sawada Tsunayoshi does not die.

But the seal on his Flames does.

There is heat, intense and overflowing, and it takes everything with it: the scent, the view, the sounds, and the feeling. More importantly, it takes the Alpha with it – it is too sudden and too violent, a scream aborted before it could even make it out of the Alpha's jaw. The pheromones, the disgusting poison lodged into Tsuna's throat from a weeping wound, attempt to convince a convulsing and unwilling body to submit, but Tsuna cannot feel the pain; the flames are everywhere, inside him and outside him, a blazing orange fire more comforting than even the softest cocoon of blankets.

The flames burn everything related to the stain on Tsuna's skin: flesh and bone are disintegrated in unrelenting orange, and only when the threat is gone do the flames retreat back into Tsuna, a warm glow in the cavity of his heart.

There is a bleeding Mark on his throat, terror laden in his bones, and a vague threat of 'submit, submit' lingering in the scent still scorched into his throat. (Deep inside, the flame whispers "no.") Tsuna knows what has happened, laid out on the forest floor covered in bruises. He sits up.

Tsuna knows what he has done.

But he doesn't want to, and so his memory does something very strange.

It allows him to forget.

For now.

Sawada Nana is a Beta, like her parents before her and their parents before them. A long line of Beta, which is perfectly fine for Nana – Betas make up the majority of the population, after all, and as romantic as the daytime dramas she sometimes enjoyed made Alpha-Omega relationships out to be, she was perfectly happy with her own fairytale romance.

Iemitsu was her own roguish Beta prince charming, with an infectious smile and hands calloused from work. He could not spend as much time at home as he would like, but Nana was a very understanding person, knew that his job was important to him and she had married him under no delusions that he'd be able to stay at home. She had even known a child would not change that.

She had hoped with a child, though, she would feel...less lonely about it. Her prayers were answered once she'd learned she was pregnant, and months spent waddling around with her own special gift was heaven.

It still was, even as she held the squirming bundle of her baby boy in her arms, listening as the nurse filled out the paperwork with Nana's input.

Sawada Tsunayoshi, son of Sawada Iemitsu and Nana.

Male.

Omega.

As far as Nana knew, there were no Omega in Nana's line. At least, not for three generations; she wasn't as up to date on her own lineage. Iemitsu had cooed at the bundle in her arms, as in love with their son as she was, but the quiet look in his eyes likely matched her own.

An Omega. A dynamic meant to be protected, meant to submit, fragile and delicate and weak. Every citizen in Japan learned about dynamics throughout their years of schooling, but it essentially boiled down to this: Alphas were meant to dominate and succeed, Omegas were meant to submit and breed, and Betas were meant to fill in everywhere they could.

Nana had baby-proofed the house far before she'd given birth, but when she returned home with baby and husband in tow, they'd had to Omega-proof it too. An increase in soft things – blankets and plush animals and pillows and blankets – soft detergent, lighter colors, anything Nana could get her hands on that Parenting Omega books recommended.

Iemitsu had helped, of course, but his work came calling for him once again, so Nana kissed him on his cheek and raised Tsuna's delicate, chubby wrist to mock a farewell wave as Iemitsu left once more.

Nana was ditzy and a bit of an airhead, but she was an excellent homemaker. Tsuna grew under her doting hands, and her shy but adorable toddler turned into a ditzy, clumsy child with flyaway hair and wide amber eyes.

'Our little Tuna-fish is too cute,' Iemitsu once remarked, grinning widely as his boss played with their 5 year old son in the yard.

'You're going to have your hands full with mating applications, once Tsu-kun finally Presents,' Nana had giggled. Nana wasn't conceited but she knew she was pretty – and their son had definitely taken after her.

Iemitsu mocked a scowl. 'No one is good enough for our Tsu-kun!' he declared.

Nana had laughed.

Mating applications were formal, slowly falling out of style with the next generation, but a traditional, hard-working man like Iemitsu would never consider anything else for their son, Nana knew.

Omega mated young. Nana had only known – not personally – a handful of Omega during her time in high school. After they'd presented, they'd been inundated with Mating offers; of the seven in her school, only two had graduated. She'd never seen any in her college. Less than 10% of Omega in Japan attended higher education, though, let alone graduate with degrees.

Omega were expected to settle down and have children. Nana, in one of her many whimsical moods, had once thought she would have made a good Omega: a gifted homemaker and unfailingly loyal wife to her husband. She believed this was why she would not have much difficulty raising an Omega child.

She'd read up on all she could of Omega children, from newborn to preteen; lately she'd been perusing Omega teen and young adult parenting books, intent on making sure she'd be ready when it came to Tsuna presenting and helping him choose a suitable mate.

Tsuna was gentle and delicate. When he outgrew some of his clumsiness, she'd start teaching him to cook, would start assigning him more chores so that he could grow used to tending a home. He was cute, with his large amber eyes and soft, fluffy hair; Nana thought (rather biasedly) that Tsuna would make a fine Omega husband.

This idea died one early evening in October, to the background smell of perfectly cooked oyako-donburi.

She heard the door creak open before being quietly closed once more. Tsuna was quiet but messy – something Nana had planned on rectifying once Tsuna was able to reliably fold his own laundry by himself.

"Tsu-kun, welcome home!" Nana called out. There was a slight chiding quality to it; Tsuna should have remembered to announce his return but her son really was just so forgetful.

There's no reply but there are soft footsteps. Nana finishes plating their dinner just as Tsuna's gentle, sweet scent reaches her – this alone causes her to turn around. There's no reason for Tsuna's scent to extend so far but her Beta nose is unable to parse out the undercurrents as easily as a grown Alpha or Omega could. But she is a mother before anything, and her heart reminds her of this as it hammers in her chest before her gaze falls on her only child.

"Mama," Tsuna says, voice weak and amber eyes locked somewhere on the vicinity past her head. Sticks and dead leaves are caught in his unruly tresses, his pants are stained with dirt and soot, the nice pastel blue sweater she'd bought for him last week is ripped from his right shoulder to his collar, where blood seeps into the fabric. "It hurts."

Nana rushes forward, adrenaline in her veins and horror on her face. There is no room for disbelief, not while her child is injured and smelling of-

Nana is scared to touch but her eyes find the angry, bleeding red of the Mark so clearly torn into Tsuna's neck. A messy, cruel thing – meant to subdue, meant to hurt. Tsuna's pale skin stands out all the more because of it.

She can smell it, no matter how weak her senses. An Alpha's Mark.

The sobs get stuck in her throat. This can't- Not her Tsuna-

"It hurts," Tsuna repeats, quieter, and now there are tears in those gorgeous amber eyes.

Nana's on the phone, counting the minutes.

How long does Tsuna have before the Alpha's claim kills him?

An ambulance brings Tsuna to an Omega-designated ward of the general hospital. Nana sits at her wailing child's bedside as doctors and nurses bustle in and out; they are gentle in every approach to her son, treating him like shattered glass and murmuring amongst themselves about the Mark on his neck.

Tsuna says he doesn't remember. He was at the park playing in the sandbox, and then he was standing in the foyer of his home; whatever happened in between is a mystery to him. The doctor said it was shock, and though they do not want to push it, they also feel the window of opportunity on finding the monster who would do this closing with every passing minute.

A near 90% fatality rate. That was the result of an Alpha mark on an Omega child.

Tsuna had returned home at 5:14PM. It was now just five minutes past six.

Most died within the first hour. Some lasted a couple hours more.

A Beta nurse had the time stamped somewhere on the forms. There was nothing they could do – pumping Tsuna full of more pheromones would only further wrack his body, and anesthesia would work in the Mark's favor – killing him quicker than anything. The only thing they could do was put him in the softest bed, prop him up on the softest pillow, cover him in the softest blankets, and wait for his body to give up on him or win.

Almost 90% of the time, the Omega child did not win.

Nana's hands are shaking and her eyes are dry. Too dry, and she blinks to bring the room and Tsuna back into focus. Outside of the room, just in range of Nana's hearing, two doctors and a nurse are debating on whether they should suggest euthanizing Tsuna so that he'd no longer be in pain, or let him continue to try and fight just so that they might have more time to glean information from him about the attacker.

Nana's eyes fall on Tsuna's frail wrists, leading into small, pale hands. She wants so badly to hold him, to gather him up and hold him just as she had when he first came into the world. Tsuna is not sleeping – he's in too much pain, and instead his eyes are focused on the TV blearily. A children's cartoon is playing, a cartoon bear singing something about the colors of the rainbow. He slowly mouths along with the words but his eyes refocus back on Nana when the commercials come on.

"I like orange," he says. It seems to cause him pain and brings attention to the bandages wrapped around his throat.

Nana forces a smile onto her lips but it wobbles dangerously. "Me too, Tsu-kun," she murmurs back. "It's a lovely color."

She watches him avidly, obsessively. She does not want the last words he hears from her to be about colors, his favorite or not. She wants to cry but knows she can't, not as long as Tsuna is still fighting.

Iemitsu had given her two numbers to memorize in case she ever needed to contact him. One connected directly to his phone mailbox; all calls were returned within three hours if she left a message there. She'd used it once before, when she'd needed to ask Iemitsu for proof of employment when enrolling Tsuna in his kindergarten.

The second number was for emergencies only. She'd never used it before tonight. She'd called it for the first time as Tsuna was rushed into ER. It had rung twice, before there was a click and young woman's voice filtered down through the receiver in cool, professional tones.

"What is your emergency?" No greeting, no explanations – all business.

"Is- This is Sawada Nana," Nana choked out.

"We know who you are, ma'am," the other woman stated. "Please tell me your emergency."

This was not the voice of a person who worked on a construction site. But Iemitsu had given her the number, and Nana trusted him.

"Tsu-kun – my son, Tsuna, he- He..." The words were so hard to say, she could not get them to leave her throat. "H-He's in the hospital. Namimori General. Please, tell Iemitsu – tell him he has to come home. He has to come home right now."

"...Ma'am, why is your son in the hospital?" the woman had lost the glacial tone, but rigid professionalism lined her words. Oddly enough, it was more calming than not.

But the words still could not come.

An Omega's worth was dependent on their breedability. They needed good genes: attractive looks, intelligence, no known deformities or conditions. The younger, the more virile; the purer, the higher the pedigree.

Tsuna was seven years old, and he'd been violated through the Mark on his throat.

"Because he's dying," Nana said into the receiver, and then hung up before she would be asked to explain why.

Shame bit into her gut.

Five hours later, Sawada Iemitsu storms into the Omega wing of Namimori General Hospital, flanked by a handful of Betas in suits. Nana sobs into his chest as a doctor explains why his son is sleeping fitfully in a room paces away.

Friday morning, Tsuna wakes up to his parents on either side of his hospital bed. A nurse steps in to check his vitals once more. There is an air of shock that nearly swallows the relief radiating from his parents' faces at the sight of his amber eyes.

Saturday morning, Sawada Tsunayoshi is checked out of the the hospital. There are bandages wrapped around his throat, hiding bruised flesh.

The physical wound will heal.

The psychological one will not.

End Chapter 1

A/N: Very disturbing themes.

Notes on Tsuna: Just as in canon, the Ninth sealed his Flames when he was a little kid. But given the assault and near-murder of Tsuna when he was seven, his flames reacted - as he really would have died had they not. They'd lashed out and killed his assailant, which is what pushed Tsuna over the edge: he'd been assaulted, almost murdered, and then he killed someone all within the span of about 20 minutes.

-"...and so his memory does something very strange. It allows him to forget."

This is not Flame-related or anything - it is just human psyche. Tsuna repressed his own memory of the attack. This will be dealt with in-storyline.

Notes on the A/B/O 'verse: Most will be answered in storyline, but for this 'verse in particular - unlike in other A/B/O 'verses, this one considers 'presenting' as more a second puberty. When people are born, you can immediately tell their second gender; they just don't have fully developed parts until their teens (much like puberty), and people call this process 'presenting'.

Feel free to review with any questions or concerns.