TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains non-con. Which means non-consensual, which means rape. Later in this story there is also extraneous self-harm, self-starvation and self-hate. There is also unflattering derogatory terms aimed at Tsuna. Do be warned what is about to happen is very, very graphic and anyone under the age of fourteen should not attempt to read this. One should also caution; do not read this around parents. I don't think they'll appreciate you reading about such a young boy like Tsuna reduced to this. Sit down somewhere quiet, read it in the corner, and no matter what, don't have anyone read this over your shoulder and be mildly scarred for life.

AN: This story is very much out of my comfort zone. This is completely different then what I usually write. I want all of you to know that rape disgusts me. No one, I mean no one, should take it lightly. This story isn't meant to be sexy, it's not even suppose to be laughed at. Again, younger readers; do not attempt to read this. It will either educate you or ruin you. And most likely, it will ruin you. Come back when you're older, please. For all our sakes.



Tsuna glanced at his mom, lying fast asleep next to her unfinished shirt she was patching up. He smiled fondly, reaching over to grab the blanket that had fallen from her shoulders and brought it up around her again with upmost care. She didn't even twitch. He realized that because his mother fell asleep, he wouldn't be getting dinner tonight. In a split second decision, he decided to go eat out himself, bring back some food for his mom when she woke up.

He stepped back, grabbing his wallet from the dining table. He shuffled out the door quietly, moving to close it behind him.

He didn't know what was wrong with him lately. Closing his eyes against the night wind he sighed, feeling the puff of his breath waft through the cutting cold. It wasn't the first time he felt detached from everything. He's been protecting his friends, treasuring them immensely, keeping them safe. But it was that evening where he felt something wrong. Something was wrong in the way he was doing things and he felt he was doing progressively worse to keep them happy. But if Tsuna really decided to hold them closer than arms length that would be giving permission to something he wasn't really ready yet.

But if he didn't change soon, wouldn't they want to…leave him?

The thought left him cold. He decided this short walk alone would help him settle these quelling doubts.

Now normally, Tsuna was very careful on where he chose to walk. In his life there was bound to be some chance (usually very high) that he'd get himself into extreme trouble. He learned that lesson rather painfully numerous of times running into dangerous people, usually friends, but very few were actually strangers. Namimori was a small place.

He walked for awhile, passing more than enough open-stall restaurants teeming with customers. Some were too loud, some too quiet, none of them seemed like the right place for Tsuna to just eat something. He knew he was being careful for a reason, but he still wanted to free his thoughts of his friends leaving him, and he just wanted to distract himself with food. He scowled lightly. He wasn't planning on getting into trouble. Just having a bite and going home to bed.

He ducked into the very next restaurant he passed.

And almost wished he waited a little longer before getting fed up searching.

He had walked into a restaurant, yes, but it was practically a pub. It was packed, but gloomy and though he knew people were having a good time, could feel their overflowing drunken moods just by sitting alone in the corner, he immediately disliked the place.

But he couldn't just turn around and leave, could he?

Tsuna could feel eyes on him, he was obviously not from around here…among other things. He felt very exposed and just wanted to blend into the woodwork. A spare thought made it so and then he was back at the beginning, wondering if he'd be better off in here with the drunks or out there alone with his unhindered mind.

Eat, he told himself, eat and run. And well, pay before running, of course. It wouldn't do to steal.

Several plates later, Tsuna wasn't sure why he was so concerned about this restaurant. It wasn't exactly a place teeming with happiness, but the energy of the others was enough to distract him from thinking too much.

He realized he wasn't alone anyone until a woman leaned into his space to speak to him. Hello, he could hear her say, and politely he greeted her back. She tugged him out of his seat, babbling about something but Tsuna couldn't quite understand. Eventually she pulled him into a crowd and he smiled at each and every one of them congenially. He should've felt awkward, he should've felt like leaving, but these people clapped him on the back, made him feel at home. So he laughed with them and somewhere along the lines, he felt the slow lull of what felt like alchohol from the back of his head greeting him too, like a new friend. He shouldn't feel drunk, he should feel alarmed, but he greeted it back too. It was great. Such an amazing distraction. He should do this more often if it kept his mind off mundane insecurities.

He smiled drunkenly when he felt a hand on his arm and it tugged, pulling him from the crowd. He went because, why shouldn't he?

He stopped laughing when he felt the cool night air on his face. When had he left the restaurant? He couldn't remember if he paid for his food. And there was that hand still on his arm, guiding him. It was a big hand, he thought, attached to a very tall man with his back to Tsuna. He was walking with a purpose he didn't understand.

He was seriously confused and he couldn't fathom why he couldn't work out a thing so simple. But then he stopped being confused when he felt two hands on his body. One cupping his face, another cupping his groin.

He instinctively shied away from those hands, his muddled head was unable to understand what they were trying to do but he didn't like it. The man attached to those hands didn't pay attention to his evasiveness and the alley wall behind him pressed Tsuna closer to the man. No that wasn't right, a man can't push a wall to his back, maybe it was the other way around. Tsuna opened his mouth to say something, to protest his discomfort, but it only came out as a garbled sound that made the other laugh and speak into his ear. "You're pretty and I bet you'll feel so good on me." And he could feel the accompanying hot breath that followed on his face, but the things the man said didn't make no sense at all. "Can't wait, wonder if you'll scream."

He pushed against this man, not liking the fact that this man is going to make him scream soon. Usually whenever he screamed, it meant pain and terror. He tried to get off of him, away from him. But his mind wasn't cooperating, his defenses were in shambles and he couldn't even begin to piece them back together, couldn't even remember how.

Large hands raked over his chest, tearing loose several buttons and sending them flying, bouncing on the dirty ground of the alleyway like stones skipping across a pond and he tried to focus on what was happening, but the moment he did he felt sick. He told his arms to move, to reach out and push, but his hands could only paw weakly at the man's chest.

"I'm Pietro," he whispered hotly against his cheek and the man didn't even bother to push Tsuna's hands aside, simply reached down and began undoing Tsuna's belt. The horrifying realization came to him at a distance, noticed only on the periphery of his clouded mind because the rest of him was too full of PIetro and he couldn't think.

He just wanted to go home.

When he felt Pietro's hands on his bare hips, he suddenly realized his pants and underwear was pooled at his ankles. When had that happened? He thought desperately. "Look at that," Pietro mouthed into his neck, "Already hard? You little slut." The last remark was made teasingly, but still, Tsuna didn't like being called it.

And he was almost hard and it made him nauseous. Did he like this? How could he like this? He trembled, his mind beginning to clear because of his shame.

And Pietro tugged roughtly at his crotch, tightly, painfully, and it made Tsuna want to scream. Stop, he tried to force it out his mouth, but instead two fingers were shoved forcefully into it. It pressed down on his tongue, thrusting deep in his throat. He gagged, and bit weakly on the fingers.

The owner of said fingers and yanked his fingers out. Then he slapped Tsuna, knocking his head against the wall and leaving a fine wet line of his own saliva down the side of his face. "Ungrateful bitch," he said dark and lowly to him. The world blurred as Pietro spun him by the shoulders and slammed him onto the opposite wall of the alley. Tsuna scrabbled desperately at the wall as Pietro slammed against him shortly after forcing his unclothed sex to rub hurtfully against the jagged concrete and it hurt.

Panic bloomed in his chest like fireworks and he desperately fought off the delirium and slug-pace of his mind. And then there were hands on his bare ass, pulling him apart obscenely and Tsuna wanted to scream, but all that escaped was a high whine.

"Eager aren't you?" Pietro laughed huskily, "You'll feel good, I promise."

Then, something slightly damp and completely foreign pushed into him and he fought to get away, dragging his crotch against the wall with aching frantic movements. Pietro's finger was inside of him and he felt fear and there was other things there and another finger pushed into him and why wasn't he fighting harder than he was? He should be able to get this guy off him, he knew he could he—

And the fingers were gone.

There was an elation of hope swelling in his chest, wondering if he was able to somehow communicate to this man that he didn't want this, he didn't want it. But then Pietro's clothes crotch pressed against his backside and his large hands gripped at his hips and there was the sound of a zipper being undone.

Then a long pause.

Something much larger than fingers drove into him, tearing through resisting muscles and tissue without hesitation and—pain. The pain tore through his entire body and he felt split down the middle. And it was the final straw. He opened his eyes, growling furiously at this invasion and he glared at Pietro with such anger, the thing inside of him disappeared. Pietro was staring hard at him, and he realized he must've turn on his dying will flames on by now and he felt a bit better about that. Tsuna felt relief wash over him but the moment his attention wavered and his grip on the man's fear slipped.

The fuzziness was still there, he had failed to take that into account.

Pietro lunged across the space between them, grabbed Tsuna by the shoulders and threw him wildly to the ground. He couldn't react fast enough and the concrete made his head bounced and everything was swimming. He was kicked in the stomach, hard, and it knocked the breathing life out of him. Tsuna curled into a ball, but the kicking didn't reside until he laid limp there, his muscles no longer able to be tense. The pain was nothing in comparison to the initial breech inside of him though but he was still grasping weakly at mist, unable to use his powers to help him.

Tsuna vomited sideways, his head still lolled to the side like a broken marionette. The man hissed in disgust and grabbed a fistful of Tsuna's hair—such pretty colored hair, like your mother, his father once told him—and dragged the young man deeper into the alley away from the mixture of food and something else that could or could not be alcohol. He was carelessly dropped onto the floor and he barely had a moment to suck in breath before the man was positioning himself. "Finally," he gritted out darkly, "Finally, fucking finally. Fucking whore," He muttered, "Feel good on me."

A single thrust and dear god, there was nothing but pain. Agony, pure pure agony he felt as if he was cleaved in two, shredding his inside like a cheese grater. Pietro leaned down to mutter into his ear, "Rough at first, but a little blood makes it easier." He said this as if he was observing something rather fascinating. Something he'd remember to use in the future. And by the gods.

He never hated anyone. Never, not anything anyone ever did. He never hated Mukuro, Byakuran, never hated Enma (despite all he did), but still, he never felt so violated to this point. This wasn't about power, this wasn't about revenge. This was about take, take, take, lust, lust, lust. And worse of all, he could do nothing about it. Every movement was worse than fire and out and in, out and in, out and in Pietro went. It felt like it would never end, like he would be trapped in the feeling forever. His own fingers grasped weakly at the dirt on the floor and he could vaguely hear himself begging to be released, for him to stop, to wanting to go home. He was torn between screaming and pleading, but he couldn't fathom why no one has heard his distressed calls.

Tsuna was starting to sober up though. Only then, with his senses returning to him, did the initial numbness fade, making him fully aware of the excruciating amount of pain centered in his lower half. He felt as though his entire body had been split open from the inside. A strangled whimper escaped from his throat; he could still feel Pietro inside of him. Thrusting in and out, taking everything that Tsuna had and destroying it, shattering him into a thousand pieces.

He wanted to throw up again, but there was no time for it because the thrusts became fast, harder, and the pain skyrocketed along with the frantic thrusts.

Then there was a pulse inside of him and Pietro came, spilling inside.

Tsuna laid numb beneath the other and his all-encompassing contentment and hoped deliriously that Pietro would go away now that the show was over.

After what seemed like an eternity, Pietro seemed to remember where he was. He pulled himself roughly out of Tsuna. The movement tore him open all over again, but it was the slosh of semen spilling out of his ass and onto his legs that truly made him sick.

"Thanks for the ride beautiful," He could hear him say.

Then he laughed that horrible grating laugh again and gave Tsuna's side one last kick before he pulled up his pants and stumbled back toward the lip of the alley.

And he had realized with growing horror that it was his own cum cooling on his bare stomach and between his thighs. He hated it, because he must've liked it even though he didn't want it, he must've. Why else had his body reacted in this way? Why else would he respond? He looked up weakly at Pietro as he rounded the corner, and Tsuna can still feel the thrusting pain in and out, in and out, his face forever burned into Tsuna's retina; vicious, lusting, hunger. He wouldn't forget that face for as long as he lived.

He hated how his body reacted, he hated how he must've enjoyed it if he came, and most of all, he hated how he let it all happen. He didn't put up a bigger fight and that was what hurt the most. His stomach churned and he heaved violently, expelling more bile out onto the ground. He considered falling face first in his own vomit, to hopefully, drown in it. He wanted to die; he realized when he pushed himself away from the mess with his arms. He wanted to die and it was really pathetic. He put himself in this mess.

He was pathetic and disgusting and god he wanted to disappear. Tsuna managed to curl in on himself to the side and the slight movement managed to trigger the jagged pains along his spine and lower half of his body and it made his vision darken at the edges.

And the pain induced the hot mess of tears that spilled from his closed eyelids and he choked, hysterical almost, taking comfort in the prone fetal position he was in. His pants was still pooled around his ankles, his bare bottom out for the world to see and eventually he ran out of tears. He ignored the cum drying on his legs, his backside, his stomach.

In the distance he could hear the muted sounds of traffic and wondered with a sort of absentminded masochism how long his encounter with Pietro had lasted. The thought almost made him laugh again, so he tried to focus on repairing his mental walls. Focus came much easier now, though he hadn't had to work so hard on maintaining control in yearsand all he had to show for his efforts was a cobbled together mess of defenses that only worked because most of the world around him was sleeping and quiet.

The return of some semblance of control was soothing and for the first time Tsuna remembered that there was a world outside of this alley where Pietro had –

He was suddenly struck by an intense desire to get away from this place, to see his mother, to know that she was safe and warm on the couch where he had left her, that this…thing that had happened to him had left her untouched.

It was only by relying on the strength of his longing to see his dear, beautiful, mother that he managed to get shakily to his feet. He sagged against the alley wall almost immediately, panting for breath. He felt as though he'd been run through a meat grinder and every single movement he made sent bolts of agony racing down his spine.

And he was tired. So tired. He just wanted to lay down and never get up again.

But if he did that, he'd never see his friends again.

It was enough to motivate him. He pulled up his pants, ignoring the searing hot pain that followed the movement and began his way home.

AN: I'm going to a special hell when I die. I hope that I didn't offend any real victims in making this, but this story has to start somewhere. I read that rape-victims are so traumatized that they deem themselves unworthy of anything, refusing to eat, hurting themselves, belittling themselves not good enough. It takes a long time for any of them to get over it and start anew. It also makes them fear people who look like their victimizer. And our victimizer was a tall man, so you can all guess what that means. Tsuna's friends are all taller than him. His initial goal to protect and treasure them may actually in the end be his bane of existence, torn between wanting to stay with them and wanting to get away from them.

And Tsuna manages to fool even Reborn, that is, until Hibari comes along.