Tuna

[Scanlation] Be it Spring or Storm

Title : Be it Spring or Storm (From 1827 anthology “Doki Doki HibaTsuna Second Kiss”)
Fandom / Pairing : KHR / 1827
Circle / Artist : Kanashimi Johnny Comix / Kotatsu Tako
Summary : Hibari and Tsuna have been living together for 3 years under Reborn’s order, and now…..it’s time to say goodbye.
Scanner Comment : It’s been a long time since I do anything KHR and scanlating things orz. I forgot how Hibari & Tsuna talks. This is also just an old scan which I finally decided to scanlate :”)) I’m sorry. ANYWAY, Happy HibaTsuna Month 2017!!!
Scanlation by AniManGa19930
Amateur scan. Please do not share or use elsewhere without permission.

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(Source: from-hibatsuna-with-love, via from-hibatsuna-with-love)

— 4 years ago with 184 notes

#1827 #hibatsuna #sadlskdklsa #scanlation #thank youuu

flower-of-blood:

Tsuna isn’t really sure where the strange-looking kettle came from; the last thing he remembers is running from his bullies, being caught and then kicked to the ground, beat mercilessly, and then…..he opens his eyes to find himself lying on the cold, unforgiving ground, gravel poking his skin uncomfortably as he stares at the dirty purple kettle lookalike that hadn’t been there before. He shifts and sits up, wincing when his movement pulls at his sore skin. He can tell there are going to be bruises there the next day, but there are more pressing matters to deal with at the moment.
Where did this come from? He wonders, picking up the dirty kettle in his hands and wiping it gently to remove some of the dirt and dust. He isn’t expecting it when the kettle suddenly begins to shake violently, a deep purple smoke trailing from the spout to slowly take the form of a dark haired teenager dressed in his school uniform, a gakuran hanging on his shoulders and flapping with the slight breeze in the air.
“Who are you?” The small human asks, his brown gravity-defying hair sticking up everywhere, his brown eyes large and wide.
Hibari crosses his arms, resisting the urge to pet the soft-looking hair like he does with his companions, Roll and Hibird, the only ones that stayed with him through the many years he’s been alive.
“I am a djinn,” he says, neutrally, his silver eyes flashing briefly, “and you are my new master.” He has to force himself not to spit out the word; he has always hated being tied down, has always hated the feeling of someone else controlling him.
The human shifts uncomfortably.
“Y-you don’t…you don’t have to call me master,” he says, his eyes darting to the side nervously, before asking quietly, “what’s a djinn? And why did you come out from a kettle?”
Hibari thinks that he might not hate his new master as much as he hated the others, but he still can’t help the irrational dislike at the one holding him under control.
“I can grant you any three wishes,” he says, ignoring the human’s question. “Once you have fulfilled the quota, I will disappear. And it’s an oil lamp, not a kettle.“
The human’s mouth makes a small ‘o’ as he nods in understanding. Then he stares up at Hibari hopefully.
“You can grant me any three wishes? Anything?”
Hibari warily nods.
“Then…I wish you could be my friend!”
Friend? Hibari doesn’t know how to be anyone’s friend, but as it is his master’s wish, he is forced to obey.
“Your wish is my command.”
With a snap of his fingers, there is one more Namimori inhabitant who goes by the name Hibari Kyoya, and he quickly becomes known as the “Demon of Namimori.” He feels free, like he can float aimlessly like a cloud in the sky without having to listen to anyone; he does not have to follow his master–I’m Sawada Tsunayoshi, seven years old, but you can call me Tsuna!– around everywhere–you can do whatever you want, friends don’t force each other to do things they don’t want to!
It is only a fake sense of freedom, however; where the lamp was once his place of sanctuary, it is now what reminds him of his life’s duty, and how he can never be free of the manacles cuffing his wrists.
Tsunayoshi wishes for something again after the battles with the Varia, seven years after they first met.
“Hibari,” he says, his eyes firm and unyielding, with something soft and reluctant lurking in the background, “I wish for you to always protect my friends.”
Hibari nods, a little flare of pleasure lighting in his chest as he recalls the trembling seven year old with fear in his eyes and compares him to the lion with fire in his eyes standing in front of him right now. He has cultivated the fire for years, ever since he had seen the beginnings of it when the child had jumped between some bullies and a cowering red-haired kid without a second thought, glaring at the bullies as if daring them to strike. And they did, but the Demon of Namimori made quick work of them. He had seen the little flame that had flickered and wavered, struggling to stay alive, and Tsunayoshi finally finding his own friends, people who see him for who he is, rather than who everyone sees him as has let it grow and burn oh so brightly.
“Your wish is my command, Tsunayoshi.”
With that, there is only one more wish before Hibari must leave Tsunayoshi and return to his lamp, and he can’t help but wish for that day to never come.
But djinn can’t make wishes, they can only grant them, so he takes his only wish and buries it deep into the soil.
Hibari does not understand how humans managed to create a device that could send people ten years into the future, but they have. At least he has the reassurance that his own power is unattainable and limitless. He can do anything, as long as his master wishes for it.
But he can’t do anything if his master doesn’t wish for it.
And he hates it, he hates it so much. He hates the rules and the fact that he can’t do anything but grant what ever wishes his master asks. He hates everything, he hates the world, and he hates that Tsunayoshi is covered in blood and still bleeding even as he lays in Hibari’s arms, refusing to say the seven words Hibari wants to hear the most.
Say it, he thinks, his silver eyes searching for something, anything, in Tsunayoshi’s eyes. Say, “I wish for you to heal me.”
But Tsunayoshi doesn’t, and his eyes don’t have anything but lingering regret–regret that he won’t be able to stay with his friends, that he’ll be leaving them so soon–and contentment. Even as his Guardians surround him, their eyes wide and bright with tears, he merely smiles and brings up a shaky hand, covered with blood, to cup Hibari’s cheek.
“I wish…”
He coughs a little, blood coming from his mouth in little rivulets.
Hibari hates Byakuran for stabbing Tsunayoshi’s stomach; he hates the Six Funeral Wreaths for holding back the Guardians and for being so much stronger than them that he was forced to fulfill the second wish before going to help Tsunayoshi.
Most of all, he hates the Guardians for not getting to him on time. And he knows that this hate is irrational, but he can’t help it–he can’t help but hate everything, hate the universe that is letting Tsunayoshi die.
Tsuna can remember the first time the djinn called him “master”; something about it had felt fundamentally wrong, like this entity should not be calling him master, should not be calling anyone his master. And he doesn’t like it when things felt wrong.
Tsuna knows that Hibari likes to sit on the roof and feel the wind in his hair and feel like he is flying, flying without a care in the world, free as a bird. And when he sees Hibari enter the lamp to sleep for the night, it feels wrongwrongwrong, like Hibari should be sleeping on a roof, facing the sky, the moon and the stars shining upon his face.
And when he sees the adult Hibari, the one from ten years later, he glances at the man’s wrists and smiles.
Tsuna is dying, and he knows he is, but saving himself with his last wish is the last thing on his mind. He smiles and reaches for Hibari, whose face is getting blurrier and blurrier as Tsuna loses blood.
“I wish…for you to be free.”
Hibari’s illusion magic shatters, making the manacles on his wrist that had only been visible to Tsunayoshi appear only for a second before they break off his arms and dissolve into the air. He can feel his magic flow freely around him and through him; his magical restraints are gone, and in his mind’s eye, he can see his purple lamp fracture and then shatter into pieces.
But he has no time to revel in his newfound freedom–he harnesses his magic like it is second nature, like half of it hadn’t been locked away somewhere he couldn’t reach before. He doesn’t notice how he is practically glowing with a deep purple light–he doesn’t notice how the Guardians stare at him, wide-eyed, looking like they want to get away from him but unwilling to move from their leader, and how Shamal takes one look at Tsuna and his expression tells it all–and he directs all of his magic to Tsuna’s wounds, to trying to stem the blood flow and knit the skin and muscle back together before it’s too late.
Tsuna’s hand falls to the ground as he loses the strength to keep it up, smiling even as he slowly closes his eyes. Everything in the world felt right now, like there was nothing missing, like no one had had what they treasured most taken away from them.
He’s finally free.