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"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world."
A long time has passed since Tsuna had to fight back-to-back battles. With how efficient his ragtag team of guardians are, Tsuna usually spends most of his time at the desk doing paperwork. Of course, without saying, Reborn ensures that Tsuna is always ready for a fight with frequent spars - Tsuna is proud to announce that he can hold his own against The World"s Greatest Hitman.
Occasionally, a number of them are away on missions and so Tsuna has to step in to make up for the diminished manpower. Enemies turned allies, comrades, friends - these are the same people he fought against, fought with, and now fight by his side.
“At your six, Hayato!” Tsuna yells, and narrowly dodges a bullet an inch away from his ear.
It has truly been such a long time since he had to personally step onto the battlefield, and perhaps that is why the assaulters are particularly aggressive today. Nonetheless, the Vongola are not to be trifled with, and it explains the sense of recklessness coming from their opponents - death awaits, either way.
Their target is me, so why is there a red line on Chrome’s back? Body moving faster than his thoughts will, Tsuna throws himself at Chrome, and the two tumble onto the ground.
The bullet pierces his shoulder. Tsuna turns, aims with his other good shoulder, and shoots the sniper dead. Belatedly, he realises, ah fuck, that was meant for me. A smart one, I’ll admit.
Something is not quite right but Tsuna can’t seem to place a finger on it. “Let’s pack up,” he says instead, and allows Ryohei to perform emergency first-aid in the aftermath.
“Dame-Tsuna, do you need more training?”
Tsuna winces, and looks up at the approaching man. Rubbing the back of his head, Tsuna has nothing to say for himself. Instead, he gives a smile that says what-can-I-do?
Reborn sighs, and takes over the roll of bandages from the nurse. On cue, everyone disperses and the room is left with only the two of them.
“What is it, Tsuna?” Reborn asks, as his hands move carefully to wrap the wound around Tsuna’s shoulder.
“I… That’s the thing, I don’t know. Something’s not right.” Tsuna frowns as he replies.
Reborn pokes a finger in the middle of Tsuna’s forehead, berating, “I’ll call Verde and Shamal in, just in case. Why must you always make me worry about you?”
Tsuna smiles cheekily in rebuttal.
Sensory deprival. After numerous tests and arguments with Shamal, this was the conclusion Verde came to. The five senses, any one or maybe even all, depending on the efficacy of the poison, will be shot.
Tsuna laughs, "That was a terrible pun!" and gets smacked immediately by Reborn. "Sorry, I"ll go make preparations for my leave."
Verde mutters as he watches Tsuna"s distant back, "What trust, there is no cure for this yet."
"Yet," Reborn glares, before he, too, makes his leave.
Verde sighs and massages his temples at the impending headache; the Vongola may pay well, but the workload is insane.
It"s not that Tsuna doesn"t care about his own wellbeing, really, but what can he do? Verde will do his best, and there is no point in dwelling on the possibilities and what-not of the matter.
Of course, the fact that he might be without his sight or touch tomorrow scares him, but Tsuna tries to maintain his carefree personality. Think of it as a vacation! No paperwork to do! Tsuna tells himself as he instructs Hayato on the to-do list.
He fucking jinxed it. The first to go: his sense of taste.
This, he finds out during dinnertime with the family. Tsuna had thought all was fine until Takeshi made a passing comment, "Is the chef in a bad mood today? Why are the dishes so salty?"
And Tsuna hadn"t realised. Abruptly, as if strings had been cut, the usual delectable meal tasted bland to him. Looking down at his half-eaten plate, a sense of foreboding strikes.
Tsuna feigns a laugh, chiding Takeshi, and finishes his meal. If there is poison in his glass of water - assuming it is water - he wouldn"t know.
Either he is a bad liar or Reborn is freakishly good at reading people (the answer is both), Tsuna"s attempt at keeping things under wraps is unsuccessful. To be fair, it"s Reborn, the man who taught Tsuna how to show a poker face so infallible that the casinos fear the name of the Vongola.
"Don"t keep it to yourself," Reborn orders, "Tell me."
"Yes, yes, I promise I will. Goodnight, Reborn."
Reborn huffs, and pulls Tsuna closer, before dropping a goodnight kiss.
To no one"s surprise, there is no miracle the next day; Tsuna is simply grateful that his other senses have not left him yet.
Xanxus barges into his office, brandishing an envelope of papers and makes himself home. Settling onto the sofa right beside the mini-fridge - that Tsuna has said was Xanxus" but refused to let the man bring back to the Varia"s - Xanxus opens a bottle of wine and pours two glasses.
Watching Tsuna flip through the papers detailing the fallen family, Xanxus picks up his full glass to say, "Cheers."
"I can"t even be mad at you," Tsuna sighs, and raises his own glass to take a sip. "At least damages were under control. Cheers."
The wine is a terrible, awful vintage, but Xanxus keeps his silence and finishes the drink. Tsuna, after all, didn"t voice a complaint.
(Xanxus decides to call Lussuria into the Vongola headquarters as a precautionary measure. It wouldn"t be the first time that the baby boss kept everyone in the dark about his health.)
Probably because they are linked, the second sense to go was his smell.
Tsuna wakes up one morning and finds himself unable to smell the familiar, comforting scent of his husband. Feeling unreasonably upset, Tsuna hugs Reborn closer, and rests his face on Reborn"s chest, listening to the calming heartbeats.
Tsuna counts his blessings: at least he can still feel the warmth of his husband"s embrace.
The third and the most jarring one: the loss of sight.
Like a system shutting down, Tsuna wakes up one day, and wonders if he is still asleep. Fidgeting around, Tsuna pats the empty space next to him and feels the lingering warmth signifying that Reborn has woken up, so it must be 6.30am. With the touch of soft and gentle heat on his skin, Tsuna can induce that the early morning sun has risen.
A stumble here and there, but Tsuna manages to clean himself up and gets dressed.
The door to the bedroom opens. Tsuna listens carefully to the light footsteps, and asks, "Reborn?"
From the mismatched colours of Tsuna"s attire, to the unfocused look in his eyes, Reborn doesn"t need Tsuna to tell him about the blindness.
Holding gently onto Tsuna"s hand, Reborn leads the way to the dining room, "I won"t leave your side, so don"t worry."
The Vongola staff, if anything, are efficient. A word from Reborn, and the cutleries and cuisines are quickly changed, and five minutes later, a bowl of warm porridge sits on the table.
Reborn places the spoon in Tsuna"s hand, and guides the other hand to hold the bowl, "Good morning, let"s eat breakfast."
A little clumsily but mostly successful, this is how Tsuna manages through his three meals of the day.
Tsuna knows that his husband is not an unaffectionate lover by any means, but the meticulous way that Reborn ensures to keep a hand on him at all times is heartwarming. Sitting close beside at the dining table; a hand resting on Tsuna"s thigh as the other flips through the papers; Reborn combing Tsuna"s hair while Tsuna curls his hand through Natsu"s fur; Reborn purposely forgoing his treasured jacket simply so that Tsuna can feel the warmth that emanates.
Giddily, happily, Tsuna clings on tighter.
Logically, Tsuna knows that the estate is an iron fortress. With its walls reinforced by lightning flames, nothing short of a nuclear attack (or a combined attack by the box weapons - this has been tried and tested) will weaken its structure and it is practically infallible to attacks from the outside.
Still, it doesn"t stop Tsuna from flinching when he hears a loud explosion nearby and the subsequent altercation between Ryohei"s yelling and Takeshi"s jovial laughter. He ends up teetering between the fight or flight instinct so strongly that he sways, and it is only when he feels the warmth of Reborn"s sun flames, surrounding him, protecting - you are safe with me - that Tsuna breathes out, tension effusing from his shoulders in a trickle, and heartbeat slowing down to its usual, steady rhythm. As a preemptive measure, Reborns buries a precise bullet in the direction of the noise, and silence immediately follows.
Hyperintuition has been strangely unhelpful all this while.
Tsuna had wanted to make a joke about his lack of paperwork to do but finds himself unable to do so. Even as if he forces a smile to reassure his family, Reborn sees through him easily.
"I can"t tell which bottle is the shampoo and which is the body wash," Tsuna complains, and tempers down his indignation. He can"t even see, so where is this hot feeling of welling tears coming from?
"I"ll help you wash up," Reborn answers.
Quietly, Tsuna admits, "...I"m scared."
"Mn."
"Don"t leave me."
"I won"t."
Tsuna holds tight onto Reborn and succumbs to sleep. There are tear stains on Reborn"s shirt, but the hitman gives little regard to it, and gently runs his hand through the fluffy hair of the man sleeping beside.
Tsuna wakes up crying. He can"t smell, nor taste, nor see; now, he can"t hear. In a panic, he flounders about, desperately patting the empty bed for his husband - his husband, he"s not here, the bed is cold - and Tsuna is alone.
"Reborn?" He cries out. A warm embrace immediately follows, and Tsuna weeps into it, grasping tightly onto the shirt, not letting go.
"Don"t go, please, I"m scared," Tsuna begs hysterically.
The rubbing motions on his back pauses. Then, one hand starts trailing along the length of Tsuna"s arm, right down to his clenched fist. The hand covers Tsuna"s, and pries the fist open, slowly, gently.
With a finger tracing letters onto Tsuna"s open palm, the words of a message start to form: I"m here, don"t be scared, I won"t leave you.
The touch of lips caresses his forehead, and Tsuna"s hiccups slow, the falling tears cease.
"Thank you," Tsuna sniffles.
The hand writes: I love you.
Like a nail into the coffin, the fifth sense is lost: Tsuna cannot feel anything. Not the embrace of his love, not his voice, not the taste of his lips.
Whether he closes or opens his eyes, it"s pitch black. Whether he moves or remains still, it makes no difference, he"ll be a walking hazard to both himself and those around him.
Is he alive or dead? No, not dead for sure, he would know how it feels to be dead; it"s a similar feeling, but different.
With only the emptiness of a void for company, Tsuna sleeps for the whole day (night? Who knows).
It"s boring, for sure. Even his demons have become confidants, at this point.
Tsuna has taken to listing all of his to-do"s and guessing whether Hayato has managed to complete them, which one of his guardians will make the most damages and how should he impose a fitting punishment, who will brew Reborn"s coffee given that he is indisposed.
Reborn only drinks coffee prepared by you, his hyperintuition, the useless sentient being, perks up.
Oh, now you show up? Tsuna bites back in annoyance. At its departing, faint pang, Tsuna panics: No, no, I"m sorry come back please.
Mukuro is coming, it replies.
Mukuro? Wasn"t he abroad on a mission? "I was, Tsunayoshi. What have you gotten yourself into again?" a vague figure in Tsuna"s mind replies.
Not for the first time, Mukuro converses with Tsuna in his mindscape. It is a skill rarely used because of the amount of focus and energy needed from the Mist user, but an essential one.
Gratefully, Mukuro stays. Giving updates on the affairs of the house, complaining about how Nagi is forcing him to stay in bed and accompany you or she will, god forbid, lock him in a room with Kyoya.
Tsuna"s favourite memory that is shown: Reborn by his bedside, immovable like a stone wall that clashes against the rampant sea waves. The maids shutter in and out, bringing the man trays of food and drinks - but Reborn doesn"t leave the room.
Religiously and routinely, he changes the IV bags, wipes Tsuna"s face with a damp towel, and kisses the forehead. The stack of books on the bedside table is read aloud, paperwork written and filed neatly, Natsu fed and played with.
(An experimental success that they discovered a few years back: Sky box weapons can be sustained by sun flames, although it does make the animals a little too active.)
The signatures signed by Reborn are scarily accurate to his, and the large stack of paperwork that was on his desk dwindles down to a significantly smaller pile. Honestly, Tsuna can, by all means, leave the family in the capable hands of his husband.
"Are your thoughts always this morbid?" Mukuro asks.
"I forgot about you. And no, not usually, but I"m lonely here."
"Tsunayoshi, you hurt me."
"I am this close to crying right now, don"t test me."
"Sorry, I"ll keep quiet. Do you want me to show you Reborn in the showers?"
"Stop perving on my husband!"
Tsuna doesn"t know how it is possible but he yells at Mukuro, whacks the man on his arm, and starts bawling. He misses Reborn terribly, terribly much. The ache in his heart doesn"t need any senses to be felt.
His two mists must be communicating somehow because Chrome kicks the stupid man out of the room, mindscape, whatever-this-void-is-called, and takes over the previous occupant.
Chrome, bless her soul, doesn"t comment on Tsuna"s disheveled state, and sits quietly by his side, as a comforting, solid presence in this undeniably dark, endless void.
(Tsuna finds out at a later time that Chrome collapsed in exhaustion as a result, and proceeded the beat the stupid man up again. Mukuro, wisely, steered clear of Tsuna and laid low for the next few weeks.)
"Sorry for the wait," Verde says as he enters the room, holding onto a vial that spells miracle for them. Reborn wants to complain about anything and everything, vent his frustrations on the scientist, shoot him in an upheaval of anger. What took you so long?! he wants to yell.
But - Tsuna takes priority.
Reborn stands and steps aside, silently watching Verde administer the antidote. He forces his anger down, and quells the storm within. Exhaling a shaky breath of relief at the way Tsuna"s pinched face relaxes slightly, Reborn lets the tension in his shoulders loosen, and moves to hold Tsuna"s hand, waiting patiently.
What"s a few more minutes when he has been waiting for days?
The opposite of deprivation is overstimulation. For the few days that Tsuna has been without his senses, now, they return, with a vengeance and double the intensity.
Tsuna nearly passes out at the onslaught of a massive migraine, reflexively squeezing his eyes shut at the piercing bright light. He makes a noise of distress. A second later, a gunshot kills the light, and the room settles back into darkness.
Tsuna opens his eyes, and oh god everything hurts, but he forces them to remain open. Even as his eyes rapidly turn red at the harsh exposure, Tsuna feeds himself on the sight that is his husband. A hug that is too much to bear at the moment, but Tsuna stays stubbornly in Reborn"s embrace, ignoring the sharp prickles of acid on his skin.
"Tsuna." A husky voice that shows signs of disuse. "It"s okay, I"ll be here."
Tsuna doesn"t want to, but he obediently stays still as deft hands wrap a tie around his eyes. The comforting scent of Reborn. A joke filled with innuendos is at the tip of his tongue, but as the adrenaline wears off, Tsuna is consumed by the searing pain of being touched by everything. The sheets, the rough material of his pants, the loudness of footsteps and shuffling feet.
And then, silence. Too sensitive to move about, Tsuna remains where he is, listening to the sound of movements from Reborn. The panic and anxiety quiets down, subdued.
In a controlled volume, Reborn lets his movements be known: a flip of a page, the pouring of a glass of water, the intake of a breath. Usually, as a result of the job, Reborn doesn"t make any noise when moving about - thus, Tsuna is greatly comforted by the action, and lets out a breath he didn"t know he was holding in.
The IV drip stays on for a little while longer, but Reborn never complains about the trouble that comes with it.
He vets through each meal that passes through the door, ensures that it is soft enough for easy consumption, bland and plain to the taste, not too hot and not too cold.
Reborn dislikes wearing a shirt to sleep but he pulls on a long-sleeved shirt, and lies on the bed. A rustle of sheets. Tsuna reaches out tentatively and when the touch of soft cotton is not aversive, he holds the sleeve and lulls himself to sleep with the rise-and-fall of Reborn"s breathing and the heat that radiates.
"I want to see you," Tsuna says, voice raspy but intention firm. It had taken a few days to acclimate himself and now, the last of his five senses remain blindfolded.
Tsuna turns his head towards the approaching footsteps and welcomes the touch of gentle hands around his head. The blindfold is untied - like the dawning of a new day, his eyes flutter open, and greets the sun.
"I missed you," Tsuna smiles shakily, tears welling up at both the upend of his emotions and the reception of light. "Missed you very, very much. You look as handsome as my memory remembers you to be."
With both hands cupping Reborn"s face, Tsuna traces his fingers all over, cataloguing, remembering, caressing. The structures, chiselled cheekbones; dark, curly sideburns; lips that have kissed and loved an unending number of times.
Reborn removes one of the two rings on his fourth finger, and returns it to its rightful owner. "Don"t make me safekeep this for you next time."
Breathing in the smell that is uniquely Reborn"s, Tsuna leans into the warm, warm, embrace and the strong, unyielding arms of his husband. He promises, "Mn, I won"t."
Reborn is in the shower. Tsuna has been counting the minutes by the seconds - 300, 301, 303 - listening to the cascading of water and the clicks of the clock.
In a fit of recklessness, Tsuna holds the sharp blade of a knife to the palm of his hand. Just to check. That he can still feel pain, can still touch and feel, that he is alive. The metallic blood stains the wooden floor.
Stepping out of the showers, hair still dripping wet, Reborn considers the scene, and puts Leon in the pocket of Tsuna"s shirt. "Next time," Reborn purses his lips and swallows, "Leon will keep you company if I am away."
He doesn"t say, why are you so dramatic, or, I was only in the toilet for 5 minutes! and simply cleans the wound on Tsuna"s hand, then bandages it neatly. Tsuna buries his face in the crook of Reborn"s neck, mixing hot tears with the rivulets of water on Reborn"s bare skin.
The shattered fragments of a broken mentality are pieced back, one by one, until it is mended and whole again.
"A surety rose in me, lodged in my throat. I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me."
Reborn is a patient man.
For the month or so that he spent nursing Tsuna back to full health, an anger was simmering within, festering like weeds that keeps growing if you don"t cut it out.
Xanxus may have cleaned the scene, but even the man knows not to meddle when Reborn has laid his eyes on the target.
You see, the curiosity of a genius like Verde can never be satisfied, and with the invention of an antidote, so, too, came a replication of the same poison. Tsuna had ordered the destruction of the research and everything related to it, but Reborn and Verde have long-standing partnership.
Destroy everything related to it, right? Reborn has never failed a mission (and Tsuna did not specify the time frame).
Tsuna may have put on a brave front to reassure his family, but Reborn knows that Tsuna was living his nightmares as it happened. A person who shows his affection for others through skinship, who mindlessly plays with his flames just to ensure that they aren’t gone, aren"t sealed like before -
For daring to touch what is his, the enemy will wish that they were dead. Reborn"s blood is boiling.
"How is the taste of your own poison?" Reborn mutters snidely. He rolls up his sleeves and approaches.
Locked in a room of white, pin-drop silent and empty, a deranged man sits across.
Reborn injects the antidote, and lights up his hands with sun flames.
"A pleasure to meet you," Reborn greets with a smile.
The fun has only just started.