We Are Vongola

An Overwhelming Insanity

Summary: Tsuna's diagnosed with costochondritis. But Nana knows that this is not the correct diagnosis. Even so, they live their lives as normal as they could, a mother and son that has to take on the world.

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Tsuna had wondered once, what it would be like not to feel this pain in his chest constantly.

When he was younger, he had been to many doctors to diagnose his chest problem. Was it a heart problem? He didn't understand, but it wasn't his choice to not feel it. His chest would rise, pinned with needles, as real as mist. It would rise, filling his lungs as it expanded, tearing at his chest as it tore through them as he exhaled, looking for a way out. It wasn't normal.

He wasn't normal.

The first time he had experienced it was when he was five. Tsuna had been alone, playing all by himself. He was a grown boy, Nana had often told him, he could stay alone for a few minutes, while Nana was cooking. The thought was daunting to him, then. To stay away from his mom was to part with his heart. He loved her too much to let go. But for a few minutes, that would be okay, he had told himself. Just a few minutes of playing with a ball.

The brunet didn't play with his purple ball outside, as he didn't want a repeat of the same situation that had happened a few weeks prior. There was no way he was going to risk being viciously attacked as he had been last time. No way. As long as Nana was with him, though, he would be fine.

Then, it had gripped on him all at once. At first, it was a dull ache that he hadn't noticed; it was subtle, occasionally making him gasp for air and dropping his ball. But, he would return back to normal, and he had dismissed the notion of something major happening. There was no one there, so what could be the cause? But it slowly rose to something more.

It had come in stages, but when it had happened the first time, Tsuna imagines it like a heart attack, now. His chest would hurt, he would feel sweaty, and he would pale. An overwhelming feeling that would send him on the ground.

His five-year-old self had no chance to stand against this surprise attack that at the time, had sent him screaming at the top of his lungs.

He had grasped his chest, feeling for something that wasn't there. A pain that tore sharply through him. Tsuna had sobbed, cried in his mom's arms as he had tried to dull the pain somehow, as if the screams would help everything.

Get it out, get it out, get it out! His body tore at him, screamed. Get it out!

Tsuna had sobbed, tightening his grip on Nana's clothes, unaware of the distress he was causing her. What had happened to her son? What was wrong with him? What should she do, with her son clutching onto him as if she was his lifeline?

Nana would never recount what had happened then, not to her innocent, pure, child. She had picked up the phone, prepared to call the ambulance, when he had stopped. Just . . . stopped. Her son faded like smoke, his screams dying away in silence. She had carried him, gritting her teeth against the jagged pain sent to her from her son's nails, digging into her skin. But then, she was left with a heavy weight. A sign of life had vanished.

She had attempted to jostle her son awake, crying his name, the words pushing its way out of her mouth almost painfully as she had to stop to cry on the phone what had happened. No, she did not want to be comforted. Her son lay limp in her arms, and she held him close to her heart, listening to his heartbeat.

It had comforted her to know that he was alive in her arms. She buries herself into her son, gave a piece of herself to him then.

Time had stretched and slipped, fell out of her clumsy hands. It had tricked her into letting go, and she had experienced the wait for what seemed like an eternity, standing there with the near emotionless voice comforting her. Tsuna is limp, but warm and alive. She's crying, but it seems that her body had rejected the notion, as she hadn't realized it until it fell on her son's face.