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Iemitsu had a picture of his child on his desk, wearing a fireman's hat and holding a hose as a cat looked on. Oregano would sometimes give it odd looks that said, "why do you have that?"
What use is that child?
Iemitsu's subordinates might suggest children were were for gathering information, being trained into agents, accessing small vents or being stolen as hostages.
Iemitsu knew the truth: children were useless. It took dating outside the mafia to find a partner who recognized this. Even still, his enemies, and on occasion his allies, tried to find a use for his wife and child.
And so Iemitsu arranged for Tsuna's kindling sky flames to be locked away. The boy's burgeoning warmth turned cold and the mafia finally understood that the boy was useless to them.
He had only one purpose: to be loved.
But as the threats turned away, the warm little boy who had dreamed of fighting fire and saving cats from trees went cold, his will snuffed out like a candle. But his life still burned, low and slow.
He learned to talk, and learned to respond to new names. Stupid Tsuna. Loser Tuna. It was easier to just go with it than put up a fight… and at least when people were teasing him they were acknowledging his existence. In fact, it sometimes felt…
Good.
To have special names.
To the external observer, Tsuna was a child with no dreams, inspiration, or prospects. But Tsuna dreamed: he dreamed of the smell of steaks, daring rescues and the feel of warm air from far countries in his nostrils. He did not believe in these dreams, but he thought of these things as his teachers droned on, admiring them as a person might admire a mirage. He knew no effort of his own could help him towards his dreams.
He got to school and couldn't find his pencil and found a lump of dread is his throat. Today the mirage was a pencil appearing on his desk. He closed his eyes and hoped someone would give him one, but when he opened his eyes, all he saw was a zero mark on his test.
Tsuna dragged his feet home every weekday -- shoes shuffling and wearing thin against the pavement and his head and eyelids hanging low as he found himself guided out of school by the disciplinary committee.
One day, his feet stopped moving three streets away from school. Staying would have the disciplinary committee biting him for crowding after hours, but moving on would require lifting the heavy shoes on his feet.
Home and safety: these things became a mirage in Tsuna's future. He didn't care if he remained on that corner or was bitten to death. Even sitting down upon the pavement was a goal too lofty to consider. Those things were not truly there in his future. Life and time with all their movement and desire should leave him alone.
He'd had enough.
Ice.
It spread beneath his feet, across the pavement and across the road. It glittered and sparkled in the sunlight. Tsuna winced at the new glare, and closed his eyes, cursing its appearance.
The neighborhood rumbled with the sounds of cars and distant planes twittered with birds, and buzzed with power tools. A vehicle rumbled past with the sound of a tiny thunderstrom, then peace was shattered as it screeched, it's driver cried, and there was a terrible sound of shattering glass cracking, falling debris.
Slowly, Tsuna opened his tired eyes. Large slabs of ice were broken across the road. The car had come down the road, slipped on ice and ran into a pole, which had bent over the bonnet.
He knew that he wouldn't investigate. Life may be forcing him to breathe right now, but he couldn't give it anything more. Instinct compressed and expanded his diaphragm like a machine.
Distant slam and a metallic crunch. The car door opened and the driver was out, and examining the damage to their vehicle. They slipped their phone out of their pocket.
If someone else come up the road and skidded on the ice they might slam into them. That would be bad. Tsuna should probably move and warn approaching traffic.
He could barely bring himself to twitch.
“Herbivore. Move.”
The disciplinary committee was here. Tsuna looked up at Hibari, who was baring a tonfa. It hurt to get hit with those things. But…
Moving? Dying? It was all the same to him.
A purple aura bubbled around Hibari. It writhed in the air and shivered like something alive and striving for more life, like Hibari's will was so strong it was taking form around him, bubbling out of his body and steaming off his clothes. It was beautiful. If this was to be the end of Tsuna's life, he was only glad to have seen something so amazing.
A purple-wreathed tonfa sped towards him.
Hit him in the arm.
It barely hurt.
His arm buzzed with feeling, and Tsuna gasped. Warmth, movement and will spread through his body. Tsuna met Hibari’s eyes. The prefect’s brows furrowed -- interest -- and his lips curled -- amusement, challenge, curiosity?
Tsuna felt quick and strong-- like a mouse that was about to get away from a clumsy cat.
An engine rumble distracted him. Another car approached the ice that still glittered in the road.
Hibari saw Tsuna's distraction, and went for another strike. He tried to back away, but stumbled and fell onto slippery ice. More warmth rushed into Tsuna's body from the contact, and he pressed the new, small warmth out his hands and into the ice beneath him. Orange flame flashed across the glassy surface, running to the other side of the road and eating up the ice like it was never there. No puddle. The road was dry.
The car passed without incident.
Tsuna waited for another hit. None came.
“Get up,” the prefect said, and Tsuna narrowed his eyes. He wanted another one of those hits--the ones that felt like life. He wanted to see that warm purple aura again, to take it within himself.
For the first time since his flames were sealed they had roared to life, and he knew he was going to get what he wanted, no matter how many times he needed to fail before he succeeded.
Joy and energy swirled through his body. Get up, huh? He could do that!
"Bite me," he said, and fled.