Masheli's Writing Journal

Everything hurt, from his top to his feet, and not just muscle aches. This was an exhaustion that cut to the core of his bones and past, to some undefinable place that told him he wasn't good enough, was never good enough. Tsuna would have loved to stop here, or to take the short, known route to get home from his school-- except that he didn't feel like going home. If he was being honest, he was hiding from it, hiding from the idea of going home to a place where things were too bright, too noisy, too cheerful. He could all but see Reborn, Lambo, Bianchi, his father, and Fuuta around the dinner table, chattering like everything was normal. Like his father hadn't thought that somehow, fighting was the answer to solving all of the bad air between them, all of the feelings of hurt, as if somehow that would be a miracle cure for all of it.

Bone-weary as he was, Tsuna glanced around before he turned down the next street on his route, making sure he wasn't being followed. He didn't want anyone to see where he was going, what he was doing- least of all Gokudera or Yamamoto. There was nobody- not even Reborn. With a small sigh of relief, he gave the area one last look around before heading straight toward his destination with what tiny shred of energy he had left. If he wasn't so tired, the location would have startled him into leaving. As it was, his face was burning faintly as he entered. The rooms he was presented with were mostly embarrassing, themed rooms that were clearly meant for-- well, if he was honest, the intended purpose of this hotel.

There was one room that didn't look too terrible, and he shuffled his things to get the room key. Still more exhausted than anything, he made his way to the room, opening the door and making a straight line for the bed in the center of the room. At the very least, the room looked like what he thought a normal Western bedroom looked like. All he cared about was that it was a bed- and who would look for him here? Wriggling so that he was under the blankets, Tsuna wrapped himself around a pillow.

He didn't want anyone to see him here, like this. The knot in his throat was painful, making even swallowing hurt. His chest ached, and his stomach- well, he wasn't going to be looking for food for a while, even if he hadn't eaten since lunch. To see the worry that would be on Gokudera's face, or Yamamoto's, or to see Lambo's lack of comprehension at why he was upset- that would be too much. Bad enough that fighting Iemitsu had dragged him to this painful low- but it would be worse still to burden those around him with those stupid, weak feelings. Maybe he really was dame-Tsuna after all. After all, with everything that had happened, he still felt like this more often than not.

And it was so easy, despite everything that had happened, to get him feeling like this. Unhappily, he burrowed further under the blankets, knees tucked to his chest. What would happen if they saw him like this? He was supposed to be strong- and if they were just there because he was supposed to be the Tenth, why would they bother staying around?

Moisture on his face was unsurprising, and why he was here. They'd seen bits and pieces, shreds of how weak he really was- but he was hoping that they hadn't seen it all. As much as it would have been so much easier to give up, they depended on him being strong- and that meant he couldn't let them see this. He'd cry, he'd vent his true nature as dame-Tsuna, the worthless, no-good person even his own mother admitted he was-- and he'd go back. He just needed this-- a moment to himself, away from everyone. Before Reborn had shown up, before the days when he was surrounded with people and had friends, there had been days where he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed in the morning.

It had been- if he was honest, it had been a pattern for a long time. He'd missed a lot more school than he was missing now, weeks where even getting up to brush his teeth and use the restroom was something he had to gather the resources to do, spend an hour psyching himself up for. Breakfast- or any meal- had become something beyond him.

Worse were the days where he had to remind himself that his mother would be hurt if he were gone, or if she got even a hint that he was suffering.

He'd thought that maybe, if he just kept trying hard enough, the act would become the deed, that being around people and having friends would be enough-- and it wasn't. They'd already given him so much over the past year- and somehow, that still wasn't enough? Was there something seriously wrong with him? Before he could worry much further about anything, he flipped the pillow over, burrowed into it, and let exhaustion take him.

When he woke up, there was weight on him, beyond just the blanket. Tsuna drew in a sharp breath through his nose, going completely still for a moment. Had there been a mistake? Did the hotel hand out duplicate keys? Had he forgotten to lock the door or something? He didn't smell alcohol, so he didn't think whoever was laying on him was drunk. If he hadn't fallen asleep under the blanket, he could have seen who it was. Anxiety welled up just inside his ribcage. It could be anyone out there, and he couldn't tell, not really. Letting out a slow, quiet breath through his nose, Tsuna moved slowly to tug the blanket down--

--and yelped, diving back under the blankets with all due haste, a distinct chuckle following him along with the vague impression of mismatched eyes and an amused expression. If he was going to die here- stupid, if he was going to kill you he would have done it- okay, not die, but-- whatever Mukuro had planned could not be good. Tsuna looked down at his wrist, relieved that he could make out the shape of his watch, whole and safe- and sure he would have woken up for the ridiculously loud, obnoxious announcement of another battle. It was possible that Mukuro was still here for that, but-- at the moment that seemed to be fine. He took a few shaky, thin breaths, the blossomed anxiety flying into full-blown fear, sharp and burning from his throat to his gut. What did Mukuro even want with him?

It took- and a glance at his watch confirmed it- ten minutes to steel himself to peer back out at Mukuro, shoulders hunched, wrapped around the pillow like it would really stop whatever Mukuro had planned. "Um. ...H-hi?" Tsuna cursed his shaky voice. "...You're not here about-- the thing with the Arcobaleno-- are you?" His voice was still shaky, but less so than it had been- especially since the question was something he thought he already knew the answer to.

"What does it look like?" So Mukuro wasn't here over that. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. At the very least, it didn't seem like it. Tsuna nodded a little, shifting slowly so he was a bit more comfortable. At the very least, Mukuro didn't seem like he was going to do much, especially since he'd probably been there for who knew how long. It seemed- and with an illusionist, he knew appearances could be deceptive- as long as he moved slowly, and carefully, Mukuro didn't care much. Tsuna swallowed nervously, glancing at the Mist-user and trying to figure out what he was likely to do next.

"...So what happens if they do decide we need to fight right now?" Mukuro's response, it seemed, was to move so he was completely draped over Tsuna, boneless and relaxed.

...what?

Was that seriously even an answer?

Was this how most people felt around Mist-users, or was this perverse backhandedness something that was exclusive to Mukuro?

"...You're confusing." Somehow, without intending to, the aggravated, put-out words came out of his mouth. Tsuna jumped a little at the chuckle he got in response, blinking in surprise. "More confusing than usual. How did you even know I was here?" There was something about being able to talk to Mukuro like this- even if he was being confusing- that was soothing. Not that it was the most relaxing thing on Earth- but it didn't cause near as much alarm as being around Mukuro normally did. He knew, without really needing to say so, that Mukuro wasn't likely to attack- and whatever had caused Mukuro to come here was independent of the current situation. "I mean, it's not like I normally spend a lot of time in-- ...uh..." Tsuna could feel his face heating up as he trailed off, unwilling to admit to where he ran to hide.

Or why.

So maybe Mukuro wasn't the only one who wasn't going to easily give up his motives for being here.