Trailblazers (2017-10-04)

Hibari’s report–if such a brief statement can be considered such–is punctual but useless. As per usual.

“The herbivores tried to fight back. They were bitten to death.”

Of the three Guardians he sent on the mission, Tetsuki-senpai is the most professional. Normally, she can be depended on for a comprehensive report.

Obviously, that is not the case.

Tsuna wrinkles his nose at the thought. It sounds so detached, so very much like a mafia boss and not the head of a Family. There is a difference, one he strives to stay on the correct side of.

He is worried about Tetsuki-senpai, of course, something is clearly wrong–but it is not his place to stand outside her door, cajoling.

He sent her on that mission. He is responsible for her pain.


There is creature comfort in staying curled under the covers in the dark. Wallowing.

It’s not really healing so much as pressing against her wounds and letting the muffled pain echo back at her.

But for now she allows herself this.

Well. Her conscious does.

Her subconscious, not so much.

Komadori enters, unhindered by the barrier because he is, in truth, only a part of her. Still he carries a tray of food and switches on the lamp desk.

It is not so bright–only a small radius, focused downwards instead of out–but it still sears her retinas, blinking away streaks of non-color.

“This is the reverse of what you used to do,” he admonishes lightly, helplessly. “Are you still trying to remember?”

He does not approach the bed, does not even look at it, and so she slouches from beneath the blankets towards him.

There is a small smile on his face: Komadori had always been overly indulgent of her.

“Remembering is not the problem. I have too many memories now. They want the Tetsuki from before all of this, before you and the others and everything I went through.”

“So, what, instead of remembering you’re purging?” he asks. If it were Naruto, it’d be loud, aggressive and provoking, an instinctive frustrated answer. But it’s Komadori, and so she eats and ponders and he lets her.

“Even if I could,” she begins, turning away back to bed. This admission will take more of her meager reserves than she can afford, “I wouldn’t erase what I went through. I just need… more time.”


A/N: My sister is getting married this weekend. Traveling tomorrow and no doubt a lot of work in the upcoming days so… posting will be sporadic at best.

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