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Tsuna can't see his own color.
No, it's probably he doesn't have any color to begin with, and that's why he can't see it, right? He can see everyone else's color after all, and always could for as long as he can remember.
Tsuna stands in front of mirrors, and stands and looks and looks, trying to catch a glimpse of any color at all, but Tsuna can't see his own color.
[Of course, Tsuna can't. Of course, he doesn't have any color at all. He's No-Good Tsuna for a reason.
That was just to be expected, and so it doesn't surprise him.
But it still hurts to not be able to see bright and pretty colors of his own, to see them coming from him too. It saddens him too, but the hurt and sadness have already become all too familiar, and so his eyes stay dry.]
Tsuna watches his mom's bright and wide smile falls from her face, the excited light in her eyes dimming away, and his heart clenches.
His dad will come back home soon, she told him happily, but Tsuna didn't return any of her happiness.
"I don't really care," he heard himself say instead, shrugging, and has yet to take his words back even when his mom keeps looking at him like that.
Like he did something wrong.
And Tsuna knows he didn't, because his dad—
Who even is he, really?
Tsuna likes him well enough, he guesses, and doesn't mind when he's home either, but it's mostly because his mom loves him a lot.
His dad is a bright, bright and shiny yellow—gold, that particular shade of yellow is called, his mom told him—, just like his mom. It's a yellow so big it always takes all the space in a room and more, but he doesn't come home often and doesn't stay long when he does, and so Tsuna doesn't really know him.
Tsuna doesn't think his dad really knows him either.
"Don't say that, Tsu-kun," his mom says, trying to make herself smile again. "You know your dad cares about you, don't you? He loves you so much."
"How do you know?" Tsuna asks, cutting off whatever else she was about to say.
His mom falters again, then crouches in front of him, her hands looking to be intertwined too tight to be comfortable. "How do I…? Tsu-kun—"
"He doesn't care about you," Tsuna says stubbornly, angrily, because that's really what upsets him when it comes to his dad.
His mom loves his dad a lot, and his dad seems to love her just as much when he's there, but he isn't there often. He doesn't stay long either when he is, and doesn't even call a lot while he's away.
It makes his mom sad even if she tries to hide it from him, but Tsuna's seen it, and he doesn't like anyone making his mom sad, even if it's his dad.
His mom's face falls, and Tsuna's stomach twists.
She digs her fingers into the back of her hands until her knuckles turn white, pursing her lips, and Tsuna's eyes immediately well up with tears.
He doesn't think he's ever hurt his mom like this before, and if he did, never that much. He instantly wants to make it better, and maybe if he was a little older he'd have found the words to say he didn't mean he thought his dad didn't love her.
He knows his dad does, but he just doesn't like how he isn't showing it as often and as much as he knows other dads do, don't like how it makes his mom sad he doesn't.
But all he can think of saying is, 'Sorry,' the word making it past the lump in his throat to push against his lips.
Tsuna doesn't say it, and it's not just because of the lump in his throat.
Tsuna doesn't say it because he doesn't think he said anything wrong, didn't say anything he didn't mean at the very least, and he doesn't want to lie to his mom.
As his mom watches him with sad and hurt eyes, Tsuna widens his eyes when deep purple like the bruises he gets at school blooms within her gold, almost taking over it entirely.
Oh.
The colors are about him.
[It's not hard to guess the meaning of the colors after that. So when his mom becomes only gold again a couple of days later, relief washes over him at the sight of it being just as bright and big as before.
Gold is love, and apart from his mom and dad, Tsuna can't find it anywhere else, doesn't see it from anyone else.
It's such a relief when his mom becomes only gold again, he bursts into tears.]
The people around Tsuna are mostly the white and grey of indifference and the barest of neutral familiarity, of strangers and acquaintances in its most distant definition. They're the green of judgment and superiority, of mocking laughter and cruel words and amused eyes in the face of his pain; and they're the orange and red of control and disdain, aggression and cruelty, of bruises and blood and pain.
Some of them are even the deep grey veering to black of almost hate, not quite but almost, of animosity and hostility.
[Tsuna hates and despises and is hurt by all those colors, every shade of them. He wishes they could just be all white and grey and just let him be, but nothing makes him more angry than the almost black.
It makes his blood boil, a searing heat inside him burning and almost bursting out of him. It makes him choke on the screams and words caught in his throat, on the sheer unfairness blinding him, and it's all taste like bitterness and blood.
How dare they be so displeased by his mere existence to the point of coming close to hate it? What did he ever even do to them but daring to exist? Do they even know him to feel so strongly about him? How could they when they saw to it to shape him into the only thing they'd allow him to be before he could even get to know himself?
How dare they, how dare they, how dare they—
But Tsuna's place in the world has already been beaten into him more times than he could keep count off, and so he lowers his head, looking down, making himself as small as he can in the hope of escaping their notice a little while longer.]
There's also the gold of love from his parents and the pink of kindness from Sasagawa Kyoko, both breaths of fresh air in between being made to continuously drown, hands trying to pull him up when others—so many others keep him under.
It's not enough, is nowhere near enough, but No-Good Tsuna doesn't get to ask more than what he already has and what he's already given no matter how so much more he wants.
No-Good Tsuna also knows the fact he even has that at all may be all the mercy he'll ever be shown, and so he makes it be enough.
[It still isn't.]
Reborn appears in his life like a hurricane, turning everything upside down and throwing out of the window everything Tsuna thought he knew and was certain was the truth. He's a shade of turquoise Tsuna's never seen before, all-encompassing and powerful, blinding in its intensity, and it almost knocks him off his feet.
"I'm here to make you a mafia boss," Reborn says, and then doesn't laugh, doesn't take back his words.
He doesn't turn them hurtful either, the idea of him ever becoming something like a mafia boss. He merely stands by his words, his eyes dead serious as they pierce into him.
Ambition.
Reborn's the turquoise of unyielding ambition because he was sent there to do a job, and he has no intention to fail at it, doesn't believe for a second he'll fail at it, never mind it's him he's supposed to turn into a mafia boss.
It's not faith in him, of course, but it's still more faith than anyone has ever had about him, and a small smile pulls at Tsuna's lips.
It hurts and cuts him and makes him bleed, but Tsuna doesn't remember being able to smile any other way anyway.
Reborn kills him.
Really kills him, shooting him in the head, a flash of white-hot pain exploding in his head that seems to last both for a second and an eternity.
Tsuna dies.
Tsuna burns to life again, tearing through his dead body as he comes back to life, as he's born anew.
It's the most vivid five minutes of his life, colors so bright and the world so tangible, people so stark and so full of life.
Everything so alive, and nothing more than Tsuna himself, his blood rushing through his veins and his every cell lit on fire, his heart beating, beating, beating.
Five minutes later, Tsuna dies again.
He doesn't, not literally and not physically either, but not all lives can be called living, he would know.
"This bullet is the dying will bullet," Reborn tells him, showing the bullet to him. "A person that is shot with the bullet will resurrect with dying will after dying." Then, later, once back home from school, "Dying will means your body is in a state wherein all safety switches are off. So in exchange for risking your life by breaking your limits, you can harness amazing strengths."
"I get it," Tsuna blurts out, hitting his palm with his fist. "That's potential strength!"
But then he stills, his smile slipping off his face.
"What is it?" Reborn asks.
For one, Tsuna obviously doesn't actually get it, has never even heard of dying will bullets before. It's not hard to believe, though, not when he remembers walking off things during those five minutes he should never have been able to even if he was the athletic type.
But it's not what he cares about to focus on, and truthfully, he even couldn't care less about it, not at the moment.
Because if the dying will bullets draw out the full potential of the body, then what about the mind? What about—
What about what's inside, what about the soul?
Tsuna can't remember the last time his voice had been so loud and strong, and so full of unyielding intent. He can't remember the last time he'd stood so tall and proud and steady, taking all the space he wanted just to be without faltering. He can't remember the last time he embraced his wishes and wants so resolutely and greedily and without fear or shame or doubts, or the last time he let them move him to chase after them, fully intending to do his best to take a hold of them.
No-Good Tsuna, utterly hopeless and incompetent at everything.
But that boy burning with life during those five minutes was anything but, was his very opposite.
Was that also potential?
Was that inside him all along too?
Reborn punches him out of his thoughts, and Tsuna ends up rolling on the floor, cradling his cheek and whining in pain. "I said, what is it, No-Good Tsuna?"
But Tsuna can't tell him, can't bring himself to ask. He won't bear to hear the dying will bullet is only a matter of the body, and won't bear to hear either it's a matter of more than the body, a matter of everything.
Either way, it'll cut anew already bleeding and open wounds, and Tsuna's tired of bleeding.
[Tsuna knows he was an average kid, maybe even below that, and knows that was solely on him.
But Tsuna also knows he was made to sink ever deeper from there, was forced to sink as deep as they could drag him to. He's never been allowed to climb his way back up from there either, to try to be more than the simple average he was once, unlike the abysmal he's been turned into.
He's been continuously punished for the abysmal they've turned him into ever since, and once, before it grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely and Tsuna couldn't hear it anymore, a voice used to remind him of the hands clawing at his ankles and keeping him under, used to remind him he was not at fault for only knowing how to keep drowning.
Sometimes, he's still able to hear another voice, so small, but still loud enough he's still able to hear it.
That voice tells him he could be so much more as long as they'd just allow him to be, but he can't bear letting himself believe the voice is right.]
[Yet he knows it is.
He knows it is, and it hurts and tears at him and makes him weep, and makes him so angry—]
Reborn kills him.
Tsuna's born anew.
Reborn kills him again.
Tsuna's born anew.
Reborn kills him again and again and again.
Tsuna's born anew.
Tsuna's born anew, then dies again.
Tsuna's born anew then dies again, and again and again until he starts dying again differently.
He starts dying a little less and less each time, starts staying alive and keeping living a little more and more each time.
Tsuna's born anew then dies again, but he remembers more and more each time how to keep his voice loud and strong so it can be heard; how to stand tall and proud and steady so he can take another step forwards; how to want and reach for the things he wants without fear or shame or doubts, and how to try his best to take a hold of the things he wants.
Absurdly enough, his life actually starts to change for the better, the colors of the people around him starting to change too. And for the first time in his life, Tsuna's given a glimpse of what belonging looks like.
No, not belonging.
Of course not. Not for No-Good Tsuna.
But recognition, acknowledgment of his existence as more than just a waste of space they can do whatever they want with.
For the first time in his life, they see him and don't hurt him for it, smile at him and not as a result of the entertainment he was turned into, laugh alongside him instead of at his expense, and cheer him on hoping for his success instead of his failure. Some avoid him too, put off by him and wary of him, maybe even a little afraid of him too, but even them see him and don't hurt him for it.
It's—
[It's conditional, of course.
It's only for those five minutes when Tsuna's whole again, for only as long as Tsuna amuses them and entertains them and proves himself useful to them.
It's conditional, and Tsuna wants to claw their smiles off their faces, wants to sew their mouths shut when they laugh alongside him, wants to crush their vocal cords beneath his feet when they cheer him on.
How much more of his existence are they going to claim as their own? For them to do as they please with it, to make it bend over backwards to obey to their every whim?
For them to put conditions on it he has to fulfill before they stop tearing it apart, even if it's only ever temporarily?
Only when Tsuna burns with life they remember to treat him as a human being too, but who killed him to begin with?
They have no right to cheer on his rebirth.]
It's bitter, sting and burn and draw ever more blood out of him, but No-Good Tsuna's been so wanting and craving and desperate, has been so lonely, and this, at least, is worth bleeding for.
Tsuna's born anew then dies again, and again and again, until he starts dying again differently.
He starts dying a little less and less each time, starts staying alive and keeping living a little more and more each time.
Absurdly enough, his life actually starts to change for the better, the colors of the people around him starting to change too.
Reborn's color changes most of all.
Ambitious-turquoise Reborn, but the color starts to change shade, to deepen, to darken. Tsuna watches the new color bloom within blinding and intense turquoise with bated breath, watches it grow and expand until he doesn't even dare to breathe anymore, watches it take over turquoise entirely.
And it's funny it has such an effect on him, because Tsuna's never seen that particular shade of color before either.
"I'm going to make you into the very best of mafia bosses," Reborn always keeps telling him.
He has yet to start laughing after saying it too, has yet to take back his words after saying them. Instead, he merely stands by them, his eyes dead serious as they pierce into him.
Until one day, he stops saying it with ambition, with the pride and utter confidence he'll make his words a reality for no other reason than he's the one sent to him to turn them into a reality.
One day, he's blue instead of turquoise when he says it to him.
All-encompassing and powerful blue, still as intense as when he was turquoise but softer on the eyes, easier on the eyes. A blue so effortlessly bright and deep, and steady in the way it washes over Tsuna, swallowing him within its embrace. A warm blue.
Expectation.
Reborn's the deep but still bright blue of unshakable expectation, because he's been sent to him to turn him into a mafia boss, and as long as it's him they're talking about, it seems he believes he can be nothing else but successful at it.
"I'm going to make you into the very best of mafia bosses," he tells him like it's a fact, like it can only be a truth in the making, like he couldn't manage to do anything else even if he tried because he's the one he's going to turn into a mafia boss.
Expectation.
[And maybe even—]
It's more trust than anyone has ever put in him, the first time anyone has ever trusted him at all to be something—someone worth allowing the growth of.
That night, Tsuna sobs as quietly as he can, never averting his eyes from the bright blue light pushing away the darkness in his room.
[Tsuna still can't see his own color.
He wishes he could and is terrified of one day truly being able to.
He wants so badly to know with certainty just how much was taken away from him, but won't bear to know with that same certainty there really was nothing to take away from him to begin with like he's been told all his life if that's all he ends up learning.
So he stands in front of mirrors, and stands and looks and looks, trying to catch a glimpse of any color at all, but he still can't see his own color.
He still can't see his own color, but he becomes more and more able to look at his reflection, more and more able to bear it for longer amounts of time. He becomes more and more able to see it without all the voices in his head—none of them his, twisting it into something they decided can only be, but isn't. Twisting into something it has never been either.
And maybe, just maybe, into something it will never be too, because Tsuna will find the strength in him again to not let it happen, to not allow it to.
Tsuna stands in front of mirrors and looks, and doesn't end up with a broken mirror and bleeding hands as fast or as often anymore. He looks at his reflection, at himself, really sees himself for the first time in a long time, and…
For the first time in a long time, he only sees a boy who's as tired and sad and hurt as himself, a boy who doesn't deserve to be made to bleed even more by his own hands. He sees a boy who doesn't deserve his anger or hatred, who doesn't deserve to be cut by the jagged edges of his desperate hope of something better, his desperate want of something better, especially when he'd know how painful they are when cutting into skin, so, so painful.
For the first time in a long time, Tsuna sees a boy who doesn't deserve to be screamed at, "Why can't you do better? Be better? Why can't you do anything right, why do you have to be so useless at everything? Aren't you tired of being hurt, of hurting?"
("Why don't you know how to be loved? Why can't you make anyone love you? Aren't you tired of being so lonely?")
Some days, the good days, Tsuna looks at his reflection in the mirror, looks at himself, and is almost able to say, 'I know you tried the hardest you could once, and for as long as you could, but it only made it hurt more. It's okay. I forgive you.'
And some days, the best of them, Tsuna looks at his reflection in the mirror, looks at himself, and is almost able to say, 'You deserve none of this. You've never deserved any of this. You did nothing wrong, and none of this is your fault.'
The boy in the mirror weeps, and for the first time in a long time, instead of walking away from him, Tsuna's able to cradle him in his arms through it.]
[One day, he even hopes to be able to say, 'You're good enough. You've always been good enough,' and know it to be the truth without a shadow of a doubt.]
Turning him into a mafia boss apparently means purposefully colliding his life with the ones' who caught Reborn's eye too. Of course, he then makes it entirely Tsuna's problem to deal with. And some of them, if not all of them, do start as a problem for him to deal with.
Gokudera is hostile-red and judgmental-green, but then Tsuna dies and is born anew, and he turns into grateful-yellow and devoted-brown. Yamamoto is envious-green and depressed-blue, but then Tsuna dies and is born anew, and he turns into grateful-yellow and loyal-blue. Lambo is uncaring-white before turning into liking-pink, Ryohei curious-grey and hoping-orange before turning into affectionate-pink and excited-green, and Hibari's indifferent-white before turning into irritated-turquoise and curious-purple.
Kyoko is her ever pink of kindness, but then, curious-purple blooms within the pink too. On the other hand, Haru is displeased and disapproving-yellow and hostile-red before turning into loving-red. I-Pin is hostile-red too before turning into grateful-yellow and safe-green, while Fuuta is hoping-orange before turning into amazed-purple and relieved-brown. Bianchi starts with envious-green and pragmatic-grey before she turns into respectful-brown.
Tsuna dies and is born anew for them, or because of them at the very least, but he doesn't expect them to stay once he dies again. Why would they?
No one's ever found No-Good Tsuna worth staying around for before.
They stay.
They stay even when he's not burning with life anymore, which is most of the time they spend with him, and stay even when Reborn keeps involving them into his dangerous and mafia shenanigans too.
They stay even when faced with the many reasons why he's ended up being called No-Good Tsuna, and never once mock him for it or hurt him for it. They never once even seem like they care about it, even when Tsuna can tell with absolute certainty they see him, all of him, but they see all sides of him with the same kind and caring eyes.
They stay.
And then they start turning into gold.
Bright, bright gold but still so soft and warm, shimmering and almost tangible when it wraps around him like the warmest hug.
Loving-gold that grows and grows, swelling until they look like the sun's always shining right above their heads.
They love him back.
Tsuna can't think of doing anything else but let himself smile as wide as he can, let himself laugh until his throat aches, and let the tears spill out freely from his eyes.
He can't think of doing anything else but revel and relish in how none of it hurts or cuts him or makes him bleed.
Mukuro isn't hateful-black or angry-red, isn't animosity and hostility-black or cruelty-red either, isn't even ambitious-turquoise or opportunistic-yellow. His color makes Tsuna falter, makes his stomach twist and his heart lurch in his throat.
Mukuro's color makes him want to retch and weep when Joshima tells him his story, grief so heavy twisting his very being, it brings him to his knees, and knowing it couldn't hope to ever come close to what Mukuro must feel makes his heart bleed.
It can't possibly even begin to come close to his own grief, to his pain, to his anger and his hatred, but Mukuro's color is none of these.
When the Vindice appear, Tsuna doesn't need to think about to stands between them and Mukuro. He keeps standing there, his resolve made of steel and sorrow, and he'll die right where he stands before ever letting the Vindice takes hold of Mukuro.
"Don't try—"
"Please, stay out of this, Reborn," he says, his voice quiet but unyielding, never averting his eyes from the Vindice. "You wouldn't understand." He waits to see if Reborn will still say something before he speaks again, "Let those two go too," he tells the Vindice, demands from them. "Take your chains away from them. You're not taking them anywhere."
"Vongola Decimo," one of them says after a long beat of silence. "No, not quite. Only still the candidate. I advise you to think twice about what you're doing right now."
"I know exactly what I'm doing right now. I was ordered to catch Mukuro and his friends under the threat of death, and I did. Why shouldn't I be the one to decide what should be done with them too?"
"Tsuna," Reborn tries again, warning him, his voice stretched taut.
"Take your chains away from them and leave. You're not taking any of them anywhere."
"Tsuna. Rokudo Mukuro is—"
"A heinous criminal who's done the most heinous of crimes," he repeats his words back at him. "A monster who's done monstrous things. I know."
"And he now needs to be punished for those heinous and monstrous crimes," the same vindice says. "To answer for them. Step away now, Vongola Decimo, before we make you."
Tsuna doesn't move an inch, doesn't move a muscle. He's tired to the bones from his fights, from that new bullet Reborn shot him with, but he feels fire burn inside him again, steadying him even further.
It doesn't make it so far as to light up outside his body, but something of it must still visibly show from him, because for the first time since the Vindice appeared, they seem to pause and reconsider.
"Tsuna," Reborn makes one last attempt. "Why?"
The lump in Tsuna's throat grows, choking him, but it's been choking him ever since he's seen Mukuro's color. "He's been hurt enough."
And still, even unconscious, even when he shot himself in the head and came as close to death as possible, if he didn't die altogether for that one moment, purple oozes from him, taking up the size of the room at the very least, so thick and dark, and sluggish and struggling like blood coming out of a festering wound, a rotting one.
Tsuna didn't know a person could be hurt to this extent.
They'll have to kill him first right where he stands, and he will fight back viciously and to his last breath as he's being killed for standing right where he stands before he ever allows himself to enable any more of Mukuro's suffering.
[Reborn and him stand outside his house, watching Mukuro walk away down the street, with Kakimoto and Joshima only a step behind him.
They're walking to what is only a fragile and conditional freedom, one Tsuna knows they don't trust for even a second. One they shouldn't trust in either, he knows that too, but at the very least, they're walking free of any shackles and of any cages surrounding them.
"I don't get it," Reborn says. "You didn't owe them anything, Mukuro most of all."
"Don't say that," Tsuna says softly. "There are some things we all owe to each other, aren't they? Humane things, and for no other reasons than we're all human beings."
"I know you're not that naive. That may be the case, but there's still nothing binding us to those things. And even if you choose to honor them, it doesn't mean anyone else will too, not even to repay the favor."
"I know."
"Some choose to live in such a way they lose the privilege to be owed anything too."
"I know," he says again, and he really does. "But Mukuro was never even given what he was owed before he could choose to throw it all away."
Reborn clicks his tongue, sounding irritated, and maybe even worried. "We don't live in a kind world, Tsuna."
Tsuna smiles, turning to look at him, and it's been a long time since one of his smiles hurt and cut him and made him bleed. "Yes, I know that too, Reborn, I would know. It's exactly why. Do you understand?"]
Chrome is curious-purple when they first meet.
Then she turns into grateful-yellow as Tsuna keeps bringing them food and any necessities they need he can carry to Kokuyo Land, letting them know each time he'll come again despite the wary and uncertain tension thick in the air whenever he visits them.
And then, as Tsuna pays enough attention to learn when he just needs to comfortably share her silence with her, or when she's silent because she'd rather be left alone at the moment, or when to give her the time she needs to answer him instead of immediately assuming she doesn't want to talk to him and walk away, Chrome turns into affectionate-orange.
[Tsuna kills someone while burning with life, burns him alive until not even his ashes are left, and he wonders if that, too, was inside him all along.]
"I can see colors," Tsuna hears himself say out of nowhere.
They're all in his living room, having gathered together because Reborn wanted them to 'debrief' about everything that happened in the future, but his room was too small for that. They did little of that before getting sidetracked, but none of them left even then, not even Hibari or Mukuro.
Gokudera and Chrome are playing cards on the low table, Gokudera trying to not lose his temper and failing as he keeps losing. Reborn sits on the table between them, supposedly playing the judge of fair play while sipping his coffee, but Tsuna wouldn't be surprised if he was helping Chrome cheat her way to victory. Tsuna was also playing cards with them until he kept losing first and decided to relocate to the couch.
Yamamoto and Ryohei were cheering them on at first, sitting on the carpet too, but then got engrossed into talking about the upcoming tournament season they'll both participate in. Meanwhile, Hibari's sitting against one of the open glass doors giving in to the front yard, drinking tea and utterly ignoring them. Mukuro, on the other hand, has claimed an armchair for himself, from which he antagonizes Gokudera further and faster, or tries to bait Hibari into a fight during which they'll no doubt level his living room, if not the entirety of his house.
It's not what Tsuna would call a perfect timing by any means, and yet, it feels right for him to say it then.
So when the silence falls on them and they all turn their attention to him, he keeps speaking, "I don't mean—you know, normal colors. I mean... people. People have colors surrounding them, colors coming from them, and I can see them." He has his hands tightly intertwined on his lap, trying to not fidget, and he can't bring himself to meet their eyes. "Maybe because they tell me how they feel about me? I don't know, but… I can see them. Have always been able to."
He falls silent, waiting for them to say something, but the silence only keeps stretching between them until it forces him to look up. Tsuna sees thoughtful faces, confused ones, and it's not anything bad but his heart clenches anyway, his stomach twisting.
"It's the truth," he blurts out, sounding desperate to his own ears, pleading. "I'm not—I'm not trying to make a joke or anything. I'm telling you the truth."
Tsuna's never admitted to anyone before he could see people's colors. He stopped talking about it the second he realized no one actually knew what he was talking about, that no one else was seeing the colors like he did because he didn't want anyone to use it against him, to use it as yet another way to hurt him. And he doesn't believe for a second they're going to mock him or laugh at him even if they don't believe him, but he finds he needs them to believe him, finds it'll hurt just as much if they don't.
Hibari is surprisingly the first one to speak, "You couldn't lie to save your life, little animal."
The tension in the air breaks, and Yamamoto laughs. "Yeah, Tsuna! Sorry to say it, but he's right."
"Shut up, baseball-freak, school-freak!" Gokudera snaps at them, slamming his hand on the table, but he's all smiles and utter trust when he turns to him. "Of course you're saying the truth, Tenth! I believe you!"
"It's like the aura extremely manly men have, isn't it?" Ryohei says, nodding solemnly with his eyes closed, his arms crossed on his chest. "It's amazing to the extreme you can see them, Sawada!"
"At the very least, it's not surprising in the least," Mukuro says before he chuckles. "It seems you just really love being full of surprises in the most peculiar of ways, don't you?"
When Tsuna flicks his eyes to Chrome, she nods, a small smile on her lips. "I believe you, Boss."
Tsuna laughs, liquid warmth lazily coursing through his body. Then he makes himself stop, but can't stop himself from grinning so wide his cheeks hurt, but he couldn't care less about it. "Thank you," he breathes out. "All of you. Thank you."
"So that's what you're looking at when you're not quite looking at people," Reborn says.
He nods. "Yeah."
Reborn's lips twitch like he was about to say something else, and Tsuna smiles knowingly.
[Reborn has turned into loving-gold too.
Not like the sun shining right above his head like the others, but undeniably loving-gold too all the same.]
"Oh, hold on to the extreme!" Ryohei shouts excitedly. "What color am I then, Sawada?"
"Turf-top," Gokudera calls out sharply, warningly.
"It's fine—" Tsuna hurries to say.
"No, he's right," Mukuro speaks over him. "What color am I, Tsunayoshi?"
The atmosphere quiets down again, everyone apparently interested in hearing his answer, and Tsuna makes sure Mukuro is okay with that before he answers him, "Purple."
"Purple, is it? Let me guess," he says, an amused smile on his lips. "Anger-purple? Or perhaps hatred-purple?"
Tsuna shakes his head, his throat closing up a little. "No."
"Oh?" Mukuro's smile doesn't falter an inch, but his eyes sharpen and darken for a split-second that seems to last longer for Tsuna. "Can people only be one color?" he asks, and Tsuna finds himself relieved from the change of subject.
"No," he says teasingly, grinning.
Mukuro raises his eyebrow. "What other color am I?"
"Not just purple anymore."
Mukuro rolls his eyes, unimpressed, and it only makes him grin wider.
It's the truth, and he's truly happy it is.
"Wait, Tsuna," Yamamoto says, sounding excited too. "What color are you?"
Oh.
Tsuna blinks, somehow taken aback. But now they asked, it's obvious they were going to ask him that very question sooner rather than later.
"I… don't know. I can't see my own color, so..." He shrugs.
"Oh," Yamamoto says, but then a soft, fond and wide grin pulls at his lips. "I know what color you are, though." Eh? "Yeah, yeah, for sure! It's just gotta be that one. Right, guys?"
"What do you—"
Gokudera clicks his tongue. "Of course it's that one. Who do you take the Tenth for?"
"Agreed to the extreme," Ryohei says, grinning just as wide as Yamamoto. "It's just gotta be the color that means that, can't be anything else."
"Wait, guys—"
Reborn rolls his eyes. "Oh, please. Spare me all that disgusting sweetness before I have to kill myself to escape from it."
"Indeed," Mukuro agrees, but all Tsuna hears is how neither of them disagreed with them, and he's utterly lost by this sudden development.
What color are they so sure he is? The color he can apparently only be?
Tsuna can't think of a single one that'd match the unshakable confidence he can see on their faces, and yet he's been thinking about the answer to that exact question all his life.
Hibari stands, facing him. "Get up, little animal."
"Eh? Hi—Hibari-san?"
Yamamoto stands in turn. "Oh, great idea, Hibari! Come on, Tsuna!"
What the hell is going on?
Tsuna stands because everyone else is standing too, Reborn hopping on Yamamoto's shoulder. He gives up getting explanations from them too because it's clearly the last thing they have in mind to do.
"Um," Chrome starts uncertainly. "Maybe we… shouldn't force him…"
"It's fine, it's fine," Yamamoto says, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "You trust us, right, Tsuna?"
"Yeah, of course," Tsuna says right away. "I just—"
"Then don't worry about a thing, we got you!"
"Don't rush him, baseball-freak!"
They lead him to the bathroom of all places, and even if by then Tsuna has an inkling of what this is all about, he still doesn't understand what they're getting at.
He did say he can't see his own color, didn't he?
When Yamamoto covers his eyes with his hands before he leads him in front of the the mirror above the sink, Reborn scoffs. "Can you not be so dramatic?"
Yamamoto laughs. "Aw, don't be like that, kid! All right, Tsuna. You ready?"
Tsuna laughs too, but it's nervous more than anything else. "I guess?"
Yamamoto doesn't remove his hands right away, and still doesn't remove them even after a beat of silence passes. "Don't you really know, Tsuna?" he asks with a soft voice. "What color you are? What color you'd be if you could see it?"
"I—" Tsuna starts, but the something in Yamamoto's voice and the way the others stay silent make it hard to speak. He clears his throat. "I don't know."
"It's okay," Yamamoto says, even softer, but then his voice grows louder and cheerful again. "I just hope you'll be able to see it now, and that it'll be the color we all already know you are! And the color we want you to be, for yourself. Because you deserve for it to be that color, Tsuna, you know?"
Thankfully, Tsuna doesn't have the time to think about what to say to that before Yamamoto pulls his hands away.
He opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is gold.
Yamamoto has one arm around his shoulders again, leaning his head against his, Reborn still sitting on his other shoulder. Gokudera stands at his other side, smiling at him too through the mirror, while Ryohei stands behind them, grinning. Chrome and Mukuro are further behind, Mukuro leaning against the wall, while Hibari remained at the door, leaning against the doorway.
Tsuna's surrounded by most of his most important people, of his most beloved people, and all he sees is gold, glinting off the mirror and the glass shower stall and the tiles, bathing them in a bright and ethereal glow.
It's not his gold, it's not coming from him, but it couldn't matter less when they all surround him like this, when it washes over him from all sides, from everywhere, dancing across his skin and shining in his eyes, almost tangible. Bright, bright and shimmering gold; gold so, so warm.
Loving-gold.
"Can you see it, Tsuna?" Yamamoto whispers.
Tsuna stands in front of a mirror and looks, looks at his reflection, looks at himself, sees himself, and the boy in the mirror has the most blinding and brightest smile on his face he's ever seen.
"Yeah," he whispers back. "I see it."