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Sickness Without A Name

Summary:

Once in a while that feeling grew numb and left you hollow. So you can only get whatever you can from the leftover, lingering cold. It was the only sensation left in your body so grab it like your life depends on it.

or

Everything in the world is wrong and someone had to suffer from it.

Chapter 1: Cold Acclimation

Summary:

[ Cold Acclimation ]

The physiological and psychological adaptations that occur in response to repeated exposure to cold environments.

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Humans cannot survive in low temperature for a long period of time. As such, humans adapt for survival. Living is the innate human's instinct.

Notes:

Update: 16 August 2025

Hello, everyone. As of this date, the original chapter 1 has been edited. It was originally a 679 words chapter but now a 1,202 words chapter. This edited chapter doesn't mean only added words, the feel, thoughts and actions of the characters had also changed. With that in mind, you can read this chapter again, to get a new feel of the chapter.

Thank you.

Chapter Text

Waking up in the morning had always been a struggle for him. It was hard to get a motivation to live through the day when all he could do was walk around the town and study. It was even harder for him when his head struggled against gravity, and his eyes felt heavy. His limbs felt as if electric running through.

The feeling of cold never left his body, too. His fingertips red—blood could not flow through. His lashes felt heavy as if it was frozen through with snow. It was hard waking up in the morning, but he had lived with the cold for as long as he could remember. He knew the cold, and it was his friend for the longest time—never leaving, never far. It will always be with him—inside his heart.

It was cold.

It was never painful.

 

For Tsuna, the adults are the constant presence of human interaction for him. They are the people who taught him how to survive in this world without the warmth—leave that for the town. He was taught how to walk without his eyes—feel the colours in the air. He was taught how to sing without his voice—let his heartbeats became the notes.

Everything he knew was taught by the adults around him. There was never a day he walked around the town without them shadowing him from behind. He once saw while he walked towards the supermarket that children played happily in the park. Dirts covered their shoes, clothes, and face, but they were smiling. There were no adults pestering the children to be careful, to be more dignified—they were children.

He envied them.

 

Once, he was told he was weird by someone. Those words whispered, but his life continued. He was bothered by none of the rumours. Sometimes, he felt how the town felt constricting him, encapsulating him tight inside, and he felt how breath shortened. Tsuna had never felt warm since he was young—since he could remember and acknowledge the world. What he felt little of it was used to support the town—he walked around the town, ensuring his presence linger. He was okay with it—that was his role.

The role he was given at birth.

The role he was forced to uphold.


Takeshi was proud of his family—his dad. They had been living in that large house with only each other for company, and when his dad was out to support them, the house felt too large—silent. He was reminded that he used to have a friend walking with him inside the wooden structure.

They had been friends once. They were strangers now. Glances exchanged between rest, but mouths never move, and hearts never linger. They were not supposed to. Takeshi was told by his mother when he was a young child that this town had roles for every person, including children. His role was assigned around the time he was no longer friend with that boy. He had a role to uphold and tasks to complete, and he could not be near Tsuna for those tasks to finish.

Although his father had once said Takeshi was nothing but a rule-breaker. Following that statement, he made his move once—when he was naïve. "Aren't you lonely?" He waited with halted breath for that person to answer.

He never did.

In that one summer day where the air felt warm as wind swept by, Tsuna smiled. It was a small lilt at both corners of his mouth, but Takeshi saw it. That person wore a simple white shirt and soft blue sweatpants—but his smile was not. Sweats dripped on his brows and, in his hand, a melted blue soda ice cream. Tsuna's eyes were coloured with the blue summer sky, and Takeshi's heart was like the river they stood in front of—steady, and calm.

Takeshi saw as that person walked away after closing his eyes—as if he was not worthy for that person's sight. Takeshi was a rule-breaker, but he knew that person was protecting him from the consequences of his own making. The shadows were watching, and Tsuna led him to a different path.

The back of that person was so small, Takeshi had once thought. If his heart was like the calm river in that summer day, Takeshi wondered if Tsuna's was drowning in the same calm river—unnoticed.

He never could offer a helping hand.


In the Hibari household, each role was similar in essence. There were some distinctions, but those were never contrary to any other role in the manor. This was what made the holder of Hibari different from the other townfolks. The Hibari household never backed down from their roles. They were proud of those.

It was around the time when the town would be busy, people bustling to buy ingredients and decorations for the summer. People who had managed to run away from Namimori would return to visits their remaining family, and people would dance with music—the Taiko drums being the paragon. Hibari Kyouya saw a small boy in the shade of the tree.

The boy was struggling to hold his stance, and it looked as if the boy would fall asleep at any moment. Kyouya had never seen the boy before in his life, but he had heard of his tale. In this town, a whisper meant a rumour, and a rumour would soar free like a bird. His mother once had said that for the safety of the town, the child's will was the shining beacon.

Kyouya had thought it was laughable. The fate of the town on the shoulders of a young boy, barely a double digit in life.

While the town was in silence, Kyouya made his move. He had a role to fill, but the tasks were not a hurdle for him to speak with the boy. "Aren't you in pain?" It was a question with only two answers.

In the shadow of the tree and where darkness dwelled, the boy that was about to fall asleep looked up to him. His eyes shone bright from the sun, and no cloud to hinder the light. Those eyes did not waver and instead followed his movements from every small twitches of his hands. He itched for his weapon.

Kyouya understood nonetheless.

It was a question with a possible third answer.


It was winter when Tsuna fell.

He had always felt the cold at his fingertips and at the corner of his eyes. He felt the sharp breeze inside his heart. He had stood strong and persevere against all thoughts behind his back, for he was meant to defy all.

He had a role—a life to live.

His head struggled against gravity, and his eyes flicker with black and white. In that one winter day when Tsuna was doing what he had been doing, the snow fell down, gracing the season with its first snow. He felt the little cold fall onto his lashes, and a grin graced his face.

The coldness had been his friend for the longest time, and it was there—never far—never leave.

It was never painful.