Katekyo Hitman Reborn! 1. A Differnt Kind of Mist

**Hello, my fellow Readers. Um. Well. So. Er, I kinda keep getting bombarded by ideas. This is likely only going to be the first fandom I do this for. I just know these will, likely, never reach Full Story status, but if you get the lighting strike of inspiration from one of these, I'll be glad to have someone adopting one of my bunnies. Just give me credit in the first chapter or summary, K? K.**

**Now, this first one here isn't so much a story as a continuous wall of idea-sick-up that wouldn't leave me alone while I was trying to do my school work. So, enjoy.**

**WARNINGS: BoyXBoy, BoyXGirl, and . . . um, Illusion-Transgender boy-to-girlXboy. Language ( "English!" shoe is thrown and nails forehead "OW!" "SHUT THE HELL UP, I'M BUSY!") Oh, and Harry Potter x-over. That, too. And character death. Can't forget that.**

~O~O~O~

What if Mukuro were a bit more villainous, actually had that spark of evil Tsuna deems past redeemable, or was a little more insane, more along the lines of TYL!Byakuran? A rabid dog, to be put down. Which'd leave Tsuna with no Mist Guardian and, sadly, an unwanted little girl never receives help in the form of a pineapple-haired boy that had seen and been through far, far too much.

Enter Harry Potter. 19-yr-old (or however many years, to match up with the KHR! timeline. Or tweaked at your pleasure. We can do that) who's been though metaphorical Hell. Having been enlightened to the existence of Flames by a Mafioso Squib (he'd been bleeding out in an alleyway and never shared his name or his Famiglia, preferring to remain anonymous. He thought teaching them to the Boy-Who-Lived would be a hilarious thing to do), he proceeded to use and abuse this knowledge.

He was Mist natured, and due to copious amounts of near-overuse mastered the Art of Illusions in nary a year. Mostly he thought up various weapons, though his sanity had suffered a few hits at some point, and on several memorable occasions had been known to just randomly throw things at Death Eaters, up to and including a kitchen sink. As well as pranking Fred and George Weasely, who thought they were being haunted by a vengeful prankster until they attempted to enlist Harry in exorcising it, and the Illusionist couldn't take it and collapsed into helpless laughter, which only intensified when he caught the looks on their face at finding out the dark-haired teen had had them duped for three months.

And, when the fickle, frightened sheeple of the British Wizarding World inevitably turned on him, he was ready. Guerrilla warfare had taught him many things, and one was to be prepared in excess. So, he'd impressed the warrior society that could collectively be called the Goblins, and they'd aided their fellow warrior in escaping the gilded shackles that would hold him. All the Goblin Clans grinned toothily to themselves when the sheeple Wizards couldn't find their Savior, and they derived entirely too much amusement from watching them run around uselessly.

Ron, Maker rest his soul, had been killed in the typical Gryffindorish, idiotically heroic way. Hermione might've slit her own throat to follow him, but for Harry telling her that yes, there _was_ an afterlife, Ron had gone there and would be waiting for them after they'd won this damned war, grew old and had stories about their kids to embarrass them and entertain their grandkids with. Hermione, intelligent woman that she'd grown to be, understood.

_'The best revenge is to live, and live well.'_ Nothing had pissed Voldemort off so much as that, after all. Even if the Dursley family had been abusive shit-stains. Killed in a mistaken raid when Voldemort thought they might be useful leverage. The look of almost offended confusion when Harry had merely burned their tortured corpses and literally danced through the ashes was priceless. The look when Harry brazenly _hugged_ the Dark Lord had frozen everyone on the battlefield, save Hermione who just went on fighting, was a sight Harry would treasure in his most depressed moments for the rest of his life. That Harry then proceded to melt the Dark Lord actually had relaxed most everyone who'd been looking on. It said bad things about the Wizarding World, Harry thought. Hermione patted his head and told him he was a bit left of center, and had no right to talk. Harry thought she was probably right.

After Harry had learned his Flame, he'd helped Hermione, of course. She had Sun Flames, which she primarily used to heal. Herself internally, and Harry once he could hold his Illusions together no more and various entrails and organs spilled out. They'd left, leaving England, later leaving Europe altogether. They headed for Japan, which had a much more open, stable magical society. They were looking for a safe, quiet place to settle down and lead safe, quiet lives.

They settled in a small town called Namimori. Never got that peaceful life, but they never regretted it passing them by. Harry enjoyed mothering Tsuna -he regarded Nana as the live-in housekeeper with a small measure of distain, and made sure the little Decimo never saw his opinion of the woman who'd tried and failed to raise her son right-, and baiting Kyoya, entirely too much, and though his not-sister didn't admit it until she'd gone grey and lay on her deathbed, she loved, more than anything save her not-brother, to argue and debate with her husband, Hayato Gokudera.

Kyoya didn't bat an eye when his boyfriend, who'd been whining about adopting, finally snapped and Illusion'd _him_self into a _her_self (It was a horribly complex illusion, and trying to figure it out gave Hermione migraines for _months_ before her brain went 'ouchies' and refused to think on it further, to Harry's smug amusement). His eyebrow raised to his hairline conveyed his Whiskey Tango Foxtrot reaction rather well, and Harry rather liked the gleam in his eyes a moment later. Excepting Vongola business, no one saw much of them for a few months, and Harry got noticeably slower and plump around the middle. He got a kick out of messing with the other males with the soft globes of flesh on his chest that _should not be there _(the girls kidnapped him to go shopping, which he delighted in, to the horror of those who held a Y chromosome). The resulting children would be unanimously regarded as the most adorable unholy terrors to ever live. Their parents were proud of this, to the mute horror of the others. Hermione's cackling laughter excluded her from that grouping.

That all came later, though. Them all meeting for the first time was quite the event. Gave Reborn nightmares years later, which Tsuna would eventually tease him about.

It might've been the way their Flames were exact opposites of each other in everything but affinity (she used her Flames for mostly healing and a little violence, he used them mostly for violence and a little healing), or as he later admitted while smashed off his ass that she resembled his Mamma to a disturbing degree (they weren't related. They'd gotten a blood test done to prove it, but it was still damn _creepy_), but Reborn and Hermione hated each other on sight. Neither of them could put it to words other than the fact the other was breathing the same air as them was insulting to the point of mortal offence.

If Tsuna hadn't been so terrified of his mentor's reaction to the strange gaijin girl, he would've laughed at the way Reborn all but fluffed up in feline outrage (funniest thing he'd ever seen, right up until his eldest son's twelfth birthday, where in [**REDACTED**, by order of Undicesimo Don Vongola]).

It was while Reborn and Hermione were circling each other Harry came up behind Tsuna, who would've screamed his usual 'HIIIIIIIEEEE' but for Harry's hand over his mouth, as the older teen hugged him from behind. Harry, peripherally watching the teenage Warrior Witch - more Mage really, but that was a secret for now - and the hideously dangerous not-infant, focused the majority of his attention on the absolutely precious boy in his embrace, and _grinned_. The boy trembled in his arms, half in instinctive Hyper Intuition this-guy-is-really-dangerous,-get-the-hell-away-you-idiot, and half in terrified recognition.

Because that grin was eerily like Mukuro's. They were broken in similar pieces, that had like jagged edges, somehow. The differences were, where with Mukuro there was malicious insanity, with the messy-haired man there was a mischievous kind of not-all-there, and where with the former there was wanton cruelty for its own sake, with the latter there was an odd, hardened kindness, the oxymoronic nature of which confused Tsuna and his Hyper Intuition.

The Jade-Eyed Man spoke, entirely too cheerfully for radiating _DANGER_ like he did, "While your not-baby friend and my not-sister are getting acquainted, I'm going to kidnap you, mmkay?" So saying, he did so. Tsuna had no time to mount any kind of defense, and he doubted anything he'd have tried would've worked anyway (years later, he'd realize going along with it was the absolute best thing that could have been done, and when he asked his wife Luna Sawada nee Lovegood, she agreed. Harry could be very scary, for all he was mostly harmless, if endlessly irritating).

Three hours later, Reborn finally was able to drag his attention away from the -_opposite, wrong, shouldn't be here, doesn't belong_\- foreign woman-child, noticed his student was missing, and promptly panicked. Until the woman-child told him quite plainly and bluntly her not-brother had kidnapped him, and the both of them would likely return high to heaven on sugar and smelling of sea salt. She only nodded solemnly at Reborn's blank this-is-me-freaking-out non-expression.

As predicted, the Jade-Eyed Man returned, buzzed-on-sugar Tsuna in tow. However, there was something fundamentally _different_ about Tsuna, which Reborn didn't actually put together until the surprise he unleashed on the Mafia World just two years after his inheriting the Famiglia. Somehow, the Jade-Eyed Man had helped Tsuna find his spine, and taught the boy the wherewithal to know when and when not to use it. It impressed Kyoya Hibari enough that he called the fluffy-haired boy omnivore, at any rate. Days later, Tsuna looked Reborn in the eyes and asked, in a way the Hitman had only heard Timoteo speak which was more order than request, to step up his training. Hate of being ordered around was overridden by the joy, the pride, which he'd never admit to, that he had in his student, and he complied with, perhaps, a tad too much sadistic glee.

Now, Harry and Kyoya meeting was all kinds of hair-raising. The Vongola Cloud Guardian and, days later, Vongola Mist Guardian, had eyed each other up the way Alpha males of the animal kingdom usually did. To the shock of all but Hermione, _Kyoya _was the one who bowed his head. Reborn only barely heard him mutter "apex predator", and almost had another panic attack. He mostly settled down when he found Harry and Kyoya necking some weeks later, even if the sight caused him to run for the Brain Bleach, inadvertently scaring Tsuna in the process.

"What happened?" Tsuna enquired hesitantly, unsettled at seeing his mentor unsettled. Reborn just looked at him blankly, his dark eyes conveying his feelings of _I-have-__seen-things-I-cannot-unsee_, and Tsuna just let it drop. His luck being what it was, he'd likely find out later. When he did, he congratulated the happy couple. Reborn just side-eyed him in a way that got across his opinion of his sanity very well, and it was not a high one.

(Reborn wasn't homophobic. He himself was bisexual. It was just the sudden, spine-chilling thought of _those two_ having _children_. Thank God they were both male. In honor of his shocked, horrified face upon seeing fem!Harry with a baby bump in Kyoya's embrace, they made him Godfather. He fainted. Even thought later, he made sure they were unholy terrors who knew how to fight and use weapons. He might not be the most loving man out there, but he protected those in his charge, and his godchildren counted.)

The Mafia World never really knew just what it was that hit them. To be fair, what hit them wasn't entirely sure, either.

~O~O~O~

**So, the parings I pictured for this are as follows: IllusionFem!Harry/Kyoya, Hermione/Hayato G., Adult!Reborn/Bianchi, Byakuran/Yuni, Ryohei/Hana, Takeshi/OC-Lightning seductress who is sent to kill [insert whomever here] but falls for the Rain in the process, Lambo/I-pin, and Tsuna/Luna Lovegood. Parings are not be-all-end-alls, though I'd prefer the Illusion gender-bending be kept regardless of who Harry is paired with if he's paired at all (I just have this image of fluid-gender person using said fluid-gender to confuse people, and I like it), that, if you keep Reborn's pairing, have Bianchi screw with him as he's going through puberty a second time, y'know, molesting him, feeling him up, just generally perving on him, and that the pairing of Tsuna and Luna be kept. I've never seen it, and with her odd might-be-Sight and his Hyper Intuition . . . plus, I think she'd make a very badass Lady Vongola. **

**Also, as a side note, I looked up sheeple. I found this;**

**Sheeple, noun ****_informal derogatory_****; people being compared to sheep in being docile, foolish or easily led. **

**People unable to think for themselves. Followers. Lemmings. Those with no cognitive ablilities of their own.**

**Makes you think a little, yeah? Leave a review on your way out!**


	2. Scheming Saints

**Hello, my fellow Readers. Just re-watched Boondock Saints, again, and having been on a KHR! kick, decided to cross them. The ones that are already there do not satisfy me. Thus, I present to you, this.**

**Crossed with Boondock Saints. So expect some foul language. Well, not really. I tried, but I just can't cuss like _that_. **

**Did you know, my dear Readers, in the first movie _alone_ the word fuck is said 246 times? And that's just _that_ word, too. Some people have a drinking game where you take a sip at every curse, which is why some people haven't seen the whole movie, nor seen it all sober. I find that _funny_.**

**RogueDragonPrincess - Thank you. Unfortunately, stories I post here will likely be one-hit wonders, and are generally all I have on them. You and anyone who wants to flesh out what I've posted are welcome to, though. I'd love to see them made full stories, with plot and everything.**

~O~O~O~

"Juudaime." The voice of his Right-Hand broke Tsuna out of his paperwork-funk, which he'd been in for the last little while. Looking up, he saw Hayato looking uncharacteristically solemn. Given the company he had with him, it was unsurprising.

It wasn't everyday, after all, that the Boondock Saints -as they'd been affectionately termed, due to their origins and what they'd been called at their very first (recorded) encounter with local LEOs- came after you. Murphy and Conner Macmanus, who, after escaping Hoag, proceeded to slowly and methodically, if haphazardly, clean out the American underground. After which, there were reports of it continuing all across Europe. Of course they'd come to Italy, the Mafia capitol of the world. And of course they'd come to Vongola, the world's largest and most influential Mafia Famiglia.

It was only a matter of time before they came to Tsuna. So, of course, he'd come up with a plan. A rather simple and brilliant one, if he did say so himself.

Stepping away from his desk and coming around to the front, Tsuna looked the Irish twins in their eyes in turn. They looked at him like they'd never seen a Mafia Don before, and massively uncomfortable besides.

They began conversing to themselves in some form of Irish, swapping into English, Spanish, Russian, Italian and German here and there. Hayato looked unwillingly impressed with their linguistic abilities.

Then they turned to him, Conner asking, "Do ye have a way to sort this mess out?"

Murphy nodded, saying "We can't exactly kill a fellow Saint, and yer likely to hold yer men and women to higher standards then the scum we kill."

Hayato looked confused, but Tsuna merely answered calmly. He'd expected this, after all. "I'll have all those in my employ, each and every one of them, come through my office. You can sit behind an illusion one of my Mists will put up. You can mark down on this paper who has evil in them and I will take care of it. I'll not tolerate that kind of filth in my family."

They traded glances that seemed to agree, and nodded at the Mafia Don who, against all their expectations, was a genuine Saint.

While waiting for one of the Mists to show up, Conner couldn't help but be interested in this unexpected development, "So, were ye born a Saint or did some'un up high call on ye?" Murphy mirrored his curious look.

Tsuna smiled warmly at them, answering, "Born, though I didn't realize until I was about sixteen what I was. Because of the Mafia connotations, they call me Il Santo del Cielo, The Saint of the Sky. I laughed so hard when I heard that."

Murphy and Conner grinned. "Aye," the latter said, "that would be cause for amusement. Do ye know what yer mission is?" Because all Saints were eventually given a mission, regardless of anything else.

Tsuna's smile had an edge to it. "Clean up the Mafia."

The MacManus twins _stared_. Murphy stuttered out, "B-But t-t-that's-!"

"It's a mission in two parts. The one given to you is to kill the corrupt, the evil, the irredeemable, flow their blood as a river to Him. Mine is to aid those worthy, return them, and the Mafia underground, to the light of day." Tsuna informed them. They all grinned. Saints that they all were, they weren't nice grins.

Which is when Mukuro stepped in and, once all was told, the Illusionist was only too happy to help them, if the maniacal cackle was any indication. It'd be indirectly killing mafia, after all, which he was entirely too eager for. And he was a bit shocked that, dark as his soul was, there wasn't any evil in him. He was just too chaotic for Heaven, and too orderly for Hell. The Irish Saints ignored what he said about having pleasant conversations with Lucifer while Tsuna asked what kind of tea the Devil liked, earning weird looks all around. But they digressed.

It showed Tsuna's influence on what was previously the world's bloodiest mafia famiglia that only four of the hundreds of the Vongola men and women were marked on that paper.

When Reborn returned, they all got a surprise.

"MacManus?" Reborn parroted in what was might've been shock, but was certainly surprise. When they nodded warily, he pressed, "As in Noah MacManus?"

They eyed him suspiciously. "Aye," Conner answered slowly, watching the man who was giving off so much danger that had no evil in it. "Noah MacManus was our Da."

Reborn looked . . . not sad, but it was in the ballpark. "Was?" Of course none of it showed in his voice. He was a professional, after all.

"Aye," Murphy told him this time, relaxing a mite. "Got our sorry asses out of jail in the process."

Reborn eyed them this time. "And did you know his reputation?"

"As Il Duce? Not until he almost killed us in a gunfight." Conner confirmed what he wasn't asking. Then his eyes narrowed. "How d'you know 'im? You're about our age, ye couldn't of."

They both jumped when Tsuna and Mukuro burst out laughing. And the man who had fought beside and opposite Il Duce before the Irish Saints were born simply said smugly, tilting his orange-banded fedora over his eyes to shadow them with his lips barring something too toothy to be a grin (making him look very menacing indeed), "I'm older than I look. I am, after all, the World's Greatest Hitman."

~O~O~O~

**Mm. I'm not satisfied with this. Up for grabs, if anyone wants it. There aren't enough of this crossover. **

**Review, review, review.**


	3. First Gen, Tenth Gen

**Hellos, my fellow Readers. Here's another one. **

**What is this, I don't even- I was trying to type a Harry Potter x-over when this spilled out. Whatever. Enjoy.**

**Beware the fuzzies. And OOC. Kinda cracky, I think. Am I sleep deprived? Where the hell did this ****_come_**** from, I don't- *frustrated sigh***

~O~O~O~

The Tenth Generation Vongola had often been compared to the First, if only because - obvious nationality differences aside - they were pretty much identical. Then the First Generation had moved in.

Yes. Despite being dead for centuries, they'd decided they'd all grown bored in the Rings, and since none of them had any interest in moving on (except maybe Daemon, but even he stayed, though he got huffy if you asked why), they collectively decided to haunt the Tenth Generation, their successors in particular and the others in general.

They were greatly like to their successors. Mostly. There were things that threw those watching the Great Vongola Drama off, though.

Giotto was the most obvious. All his portraits depicted him as a serious man, and most of the things said about him that had been passed down confirmed that. Well, he might've been like that because he was the leader of a vigilante group. Now? Ditzy spaz was a better term. Thank any deity listening for G.

G, well. He was like a more personable Hayato Gokudera, except where the latter held a near obsessive-stalkerlike-puppyish devotion towards his Juudaime, G was not at all afraid to beat the ever-loving hell out of Giotto, who'd then cry and whine and cling to Alaude.

Alaude, for all that he and Kyoya Hibari -and Fon- looked eerily alike, couldn't have been more different in personality. For one, the Frenchman was, while stoic, extremely whimsical. Normally, at least. Every now and then, for no reason anyone except Giotto and Tsuna could perceive, he'd redefine what it meant to be bitchy. Nothing pleased him, everything set him off, and even Kyoya eventually learned to stay away (he'd originally tired fighting the man when he'd got like that, then quickly fled when the other merely spat and hissed expletives and profanities at him like an offended cat). The only one who could be around him was Giotto (who'd give him such a sad, bereft look he couldn't help but coo and hug him), and the only one who could calm him down enough to be his usual spacy self was Ugetsu.

Ugetsu and Takeshi had three things in common. Their sword style - which Ugetsu had half-founded half-cobbled-together -, their calm disposition, and their absolute devotion to their respective leaders. No one really looked any closer than that. Takeshi would get a really uncomfortable look on his face, and Ugetsu would smile, except that even though he was smiling you could _feel_ the guillotine at your neck. The only one who was willing to be around him then was Knuckle.

Knuckle wasn't much different from Ryohei, really. He knew volume control, yes, had a minor guilt-complex, was a fair bit wiser than Ryohei and had black hair and a darker complexion. Otherwise, save for their different statuses as living and dead, they were too much alike for anyone to be really at ease with it, but no one really wanted to deal with that.

Lampo, well. He was a Lord's son -and later, a Lord himself- so his holier-than-thou attitude tended to clash with several egos. When he bothered, anyway. The perpetual teenager was very much content to be a lazy lay-a-bout, and the only thing that ever really motivated him to do anything more physically taxing than breathing were when Giotto asked him nicely and seriously (why the First Lightning Guardian couldn't refuse the Primo, neither would say. Lampo ignored you like you hadn't said a thing, and Giotto blushed, stuttered and hid behind his closest Guardian, and no matter which it was there was a shit-eating grin on their face at the subject matter), and when Daemon came after him with a happy-little-girl grin (you know, the kind with pink sparkles, and unicorns, and flowers? That kind of grin).

There'd been an almighty kerfuffle when the First-Second Mist Guardian showed up, about a month and a half after the others first moved in. Mukuro couldn't stand being near him ("he makes my skin crawl, and considering this body is an illusion, that should really tell you everything" was all he said), and Chrome was very much in fear of him. After the two Mists had kicked him out, the others of the First Generation surrounded him. Daemon was all prepared for anything, he'd thought. Anything except, it turned out, Giotto dissolving into a blubbering mess and clinging like a barnacle to him. The look of panic on his face had been photographed and copied.

Knuckle, Ugetsu, Lampo and G all seemed content to watch him flail uselessly as Giotto dampened his coat, but after a moment, Alaude sighed and untangled the distraught blond from their Mist. Then they'd all vanished into the Rings-Space, and the Tenth Generation all felt various tremors and shivers from the Rings, Tsuna and Mukuro especially, though Kyoya reported his Ring getting _uncomfortably_ warm for nearly an hour. The First Gen appeared later, the Sun, Rain, Lightning and Storm looking largely unchanged, save for glancing warily at the Cloud, and the Mist appeared not long after, reporting that their Sky needed to sleep it off, tensing and fidgeting when Alaude nodded at him before gliding off. Giotto appeared later red-eyed and tear-stained, dragged Daemon off for almost the whole day, and everything went back to the new normal after that, save Daemon's added snarky commentary.

Daemon tried getting along with his two successors. He really did. One hated his guts and the other was shit-scared of him, so it was difficult and slow-going until he lost patience, threw his hands up and dragged them both into his mind. After, Chrome followed Giotto's example and Mukuro actually gave him a hug, though he went to shower and scrub himself immediately afterwards.

All of which made Daemon's later discovery all the more bewildering. How else were you supposed to react, when you found out you were haunting your own reincarnations?

~O~

It had been an accident. Mukuro and Daemon were doing a mind-meld thing for one reason or another, and Daemon tripped and touched something he ought not have, and then the two of them had for a brief moment _blended_, and something broke. They found later it was the seal all souls that were put back in the cycle of Life and Death had, and when it broke, _all _Daemon's memories, up to present, were Mukuro's, because they were his memories because he was Daemon. The following conversation does not bear repeating, but it was basically rehashing all the moments Daemon-the-not-ghost recalled to prove this wasn't his successor absorbing a portion of himself, and Mukuro-who-was-Daemon answering for a time before they simultaneously threw a fit at the absurdness of trying to interrogate oneself. In perfect, same-accented, same-flailing-movement unison.

This was what Alaude and Kyoya walked in on, and when the First-Second and Tenth male Mist both flailed at them for help, Kyoya twitched for his tonfa and went to get the others while Alaude did his level best to at least calm Daemon down. Which he did, which was both, because apparently both of them were Daemon and one just had some Mukuro mixed in.

While Alaude was staring at them in absolute befuddlement, the Tenth Gen with First Gen trailing came into the room. The Tenth Gen came mostly to watch, but when the subject matter was passed around they started looking at their predecessors warily.

It was G who broke the silence. "Is there a way to check the rest of them?"

Mukuro-Daemon looked frazzled, but answered easily enough. "Not without breaking their seals, and that can't be redone save by some kind of deity. Don't ask if you aren't sure, just because there wasn't any life between him and me doesn't men the rest of you wouldn't have any between the First Gen and yourselves, it has been four hundred years. It's odd there isn't one between Daemon and I, though that might be blamed on his continued activity after death."

~O~O~O~

**Right. That's all I've got. Run with it, if you wish. Flesh it out into a story. For those wishing to adopt, except for emphasis on the whackiness of the First Gen, focus on fluff and hurt/comfort, I can't say I really have much in mind for this. You can even ignore the whole reincarnation thing. Just _give me First Gen x Tenth Gen fluff,_ whoever takes this up. This is direct from my brain, I had nothing of this in mind when I went to type. **

**So. *clears throat* Review, review, review.**


	4. I have no title, sorry

**Hello, my fellow Readers. **

**I know I will be asked why on this, so I pre-empt you and say: I Googled Mukuro and saw him (might've been fem!Mukuro, but I couldn't tell) in a stunning blue dress. And I remembered a fic about the First Gen where-in G cross-dressed as a woman in red called Lady Tempesta. And the massive helping of angst came from my mood. **

**More angst than I intended there to be, but do try to enjoy. And double update for you my Readers, so there's that.**

**WARNINGS: Mentions of past-life rape, Mukuro's general Dark Past (are there any specifics about it out there? TV Tropes doesn't have much in his character tab), mentions of illusory cross-dressing (I may have a new thing for that . . .I can't be the only one who think Mukuro would make a good female, can I?). Most probable OOC.**

~O~O~O~

"I'm afraid," Tsuna enunciated slowly, knowing his Guardians weren't going to like this. They were all strung out, and this might make a few of them snap. One in particular came to mind, "that the mission will have to go forward."

The outcry at his statement did nothing for his headache, and damn Reborn for looking so amused. Even if he looked the tiniest bit sympathetic, it did not excuse that level of enjoyment.

"B-But, Chrome is injured! She can't do the mission!" His Right-Hand, his Storm, his first (second, but Reborn must never know that) friend, protested vehemently, earnestly. Whether it be naivety, ignorance or willful blindness, he did not see what stared him in the face. His Rain, Sun, Cloud, Lightning and male Mist looked just as confused and resolute about it as Hayato did, at varying levels of trying to hide it.

"I said nothing about Chrome doing the mission. I said the mission would have to continue." Tsuna repeated monotonously.

Dead silence. Good, they were catching on.

"Do you mean to say, one of us is going to have to cross-dress?" Takeshi asked slowly, hesitantly, as if saying it would make it happen to him.

Tsuna nodded. They freaked out. (Yes, even the stoic ones. Tsuna could very easily see the minute flashes of emotion that flickered for only a scant second, even though there were not reactions from them otherwise.)

Tsuna Glared. They settled down. (Tsuna's glares were very deserving of their capitol G. He'd accidently Glared one nasty old Mafioso, who he'd been about to burn slowly to death, to death once. The rumors that said the Decimo Don Vongola could kill with a glance were exaggerated, but not entirely inaccurate.)

"I already know who's going on this mission, by process of elimination of who _can't_."

All pleading eyes, hoping it wasn't them. Tsuna knew he'd probably get hell for this, but quite frankly, by this point he couldn't be fucked.

"Ryohei-nii can't, because his body structure is too obviously masculine." The boxer blushed a bit, in pride at having such a body and in embarrassment for having that fact pointed out so directly. Tsuna ignored him.

"Takeshi can't for much the same reason, if toned down a bit." The swordsman matched the boxer's blush, scratching the back of his head and laughing awkwardly. Tsuna ignored him, too.

"I will send Kyoya on an infiltration again when all the stars in the sky burn out." The tonfa-wielder smirked a tiny little smirk that almost wasn't there, as the canary on his shoulder cheeped excitedly (in amusement, actually. Hibird was a great deal smarter than anyone, even Kyoya, thought). Tsuna gave him a nasty look -the clean-up for that had been an absolute nightmare, and that operation was a total disaster, even if his Cloud made a convincing woman. Until he opened his mouth, anyway- then ignored him, also.

"Hayato, you've gotten better at keeping your temper in check, and if this were just a day or two, I'd send you. But this is going to be weeks, possibly months, your self-control isn't that good, yet I hope." His Second gave him kicked-puppy eyes (he would _find_ a way to make them a weapon. If he did, he'd take over the Criminal Underground the world over inside a decade, maybe less) and Tsuna hardened his Resolve and ignored him as well.

"Lambo is both too young and still too inexperienced besides for it." The youngest of them all only grinned tiredly, not up to actually being his usual hyper self. It was only thanks to his quick intervention Tsuna still had a female Mist, and his Flames were dangerously low. Even it weren't for the listed reasons, he'd be off the options for this to recover. He too was ignored.

Why was he ignoring his Guardians, you ask? He wasn't. He was just focusing on the one who'd be doing this mission, and would be none too pleased that he was, either. For a myriad of reasons.

Mukuro stared at him, his Boss, his Sky, with wide frightened eyes. In that moment, despite being twenty-five years old, he more resembled a young child. A very scared, hurt-too-often child. This, Tsuna was not surprised by, though he wished he could be and couldn't curse his Hyper Intuition for it, either.

"Um," it was Ryohei who started out, having enough situational awareness to realize this was somehow a delicate subject. "Are you okay, Mukuro?" The concern in the boxer's voice was clear for all to hear, and see if they looked at his face. The prerogative of a Sun, to always be concerned. (Reborn was too. He was just better at hiding it.)

Mukuro slowly shook his head in the negative, which only got the others worried. He tried to talk, but when his mouth opened no sound came but a strangled one. He turned his now frantic gaze back to Tsuna, who was looking at him in worry as the others did, but also a terrible, terrible knowing. As Tsuna shooed Reborn and his Guardians out, the bluenet's breathing pace increased, heading toward a panic attack. That's when Tsuna came up to Mukuro's seat and kneeled in front of him. Put his hands over his distressed male Mist's.

Speaking so softly it was the barest of whispers, Tsuna spoke, "you're the best one for this, even if the others were able. I'd bet the Vongola fortune at least one of your Six Path lives were female, likely two. At least in one of them, you were subjected to the greatest horror that can befall a woman, yes?" Mukuro only whimpered, tears in his red-blue eyes as he shook his head, silently pleading with his Sky not to continue, to stop, but Tsuna would no longer allow him to knot himself up in his past horrors even if seeing him like this broke Tsuna's heart a little. " Repeatedly, too. In the one you were an animal, some kind of bird, you were kept by a cruel owner that kept you caged and clipped your wings." Mukuro was shaking now, tears pouring down his cheek in silent misery. "But that wasn't the worst of it. No, that'd be the one where you were by yourself, all alone, with nothing that was yours and no one who cared." It was only Tsuna's hands on his that kept him from bolting, he could tell.

That's when Tsuna stood up, leaned over -ignored the violent flinch that was likely a reaction from when he'd been hurt so often he expected only blows that brought pain, never a caress that brought affection- and hugged the most damaged of his Guardians. Tsuna brought his Flame to the surface of his skin, so that the flow of it could be felt and was on the verge of visible. The Illusionist melted into the embrace, unwilling to really resist the comfort his Sky all but forced on him and, now that his masks had been ripped and startled off, he was unable to fight it. He leaned his forehead on his Sky's shoulder, almost overwhelmed.

"Why?" Was Mukuro's hoarse, broken whisper. "Why must you be so . . . ?"

~O~O~O~

**Waaah! *cries* Why am I torturing the one with the most issues?! WHY?! I don't know, it just came out this way!**

**I was going for something fun, amusing, a spectacle for all to behold, and then this. What is up with me? I wanted this to be funny fluff, dammit. Where's all this angst coming from?**

**(By the way, that nasty old Mafioso? An Estraneo -is that how it's spelled?) member who'd gotten away from Mukuro's rampage, which is why he's a bit emotional in this. I couldn't find a way to put it in, so here it is.)**

**Review, review, review. And tell me a good follow up to that last sentence, because I'm drawing a complete and utter blank.**


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Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, Humor