Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cafe was small, embedded into the corner of an aging building of brick stones and wooden planks. The decaying facade of the building was testament to how long the establishment had been there, the wooden signs hanging overhead sun-blasted and scruffed from time braving the weather. Vines crawled up the cafe walls, tracing the wooden-blocked windows and wrought-iron detailing of the building. 

The outside sitting area, consisting of several tables with four metal chairs to each, were scattered along the cracked, washed-out stone of the streets. Potted plants weighed the tables down, adding a sense of oasis to the little notch in the back corner of the shadowed shopping strip. 

The cafe itself was never on the busy side, the location more secluded and the shiftier patrons chasing away curious tourists or the smarter locals. Rumors rushed through the closed streets, faint whispers behind hands of how the Procione Famiglia owned the cafe. Of how it was a front for the Family, where they laundered their business clean with the simple facade of roasted coffee beans and fresh cakes. 

The rumors detered the appeal of the small little establishment, making people wary that walking in would be the signing to their death certificate. Due to the rumors and the knowledge of who owned the cafe, most business came in the form of the Procione and Sciacallo members. 

“Emilio, sir.” A man in a fine pressed beige suit stood in the sunlight, body casting shadows on the lone man at the outside tables. “You have a phone call.” The man at the table, pudgy fingers wrapped around his small espresso cup, looked to the presented cellphone. 

“Thank you, Fabrizio,” Emilio spoke as he reached a hand for the device. Fabrizio, looking unsuited for his light-colored clothes with his jagged face-scars and his mohawk, placed the black flip phone in the man’s hand and took a polite step back. 

“Ciao,” Emilio answered as he took a sip of his three-shot espresso, “you have news?” 

“Ciao, Emi,” a male’s grainy voice answered from the receiver. “I do. Reports have come in that Reborn is in Japan along with the CEDEF heir.” Emilio leaned forward in his chair, plump lips tugging into a smirk. 

“Japan?” It came out in a purr. The men in the area, backs to Emilio as he enjoyed his morning newspaper, stiffened at the sound. “Where in Japan, Santino? Tokyo? Kyoto?” Why was the World’s Greatest Hitman going to the land of the Rising Sun? 

“No,” Santino hummed out, “some place called Namimori.” The foreign name was stilted on the man’s lips. 

“Namimori?” Emilio’s eyes dragged over his men. One of them had stiffened at the mention of the town. Mentally humming, he tapped a finger on his cup. “Never heard of it. I wonder why the man’s going to such an unknown city.”

“Apparently Namimori is infamous amongst certain Families,” Santino explained as groaning sounded in the background. 

“How so?” Emilio’s eyes kept trained on the guard who’d stiffened, trying to look disinterested in the phone call as he took another sip of his drink. It was getting cold, leaving a rotten taste in his mouth. 

“The first of the Vongola settled there,” Santino said in a hush, “and that pesky Hibari Clan hails from there.” At the mention of the Clan that ruined their youngest brother’s Family, Emilio’s hand tightened around the phone. “And rumors has it the next heir to Vongola is living there.”

Emilio’s eyebrows shot up. “Timoteo chose a new heir?” That guard’s hands were curled into fists as he spoke. “How? I thought all of his children were either dead or incipacitated.” 

“From what my sources told me, apparently this new heir has Vongola Primo’s blood in him. A descendent. He’s nothing but a muddled mutt but desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say.” Santino gave a laugh. “So, what do you think?” 

“Hm.” Emilio tugged on his beard, moving to stand. His men moved in sync, turning to face him as they moved to surround him. “Sounds fun. Let’s see what your intel bring back to us before we make any rash decisions.” 

“Ah.” Santino hummed. “How’s your mouse?” 

“Pretty stupid.” Emilio downed the last of his drink and slapped a bill on the table, using the cup as a weight least the wind carry away the tip. “Contact me when Nero wakes up. Ciao.” He hung up before Santino could respond and Emilio gave the phone back to Fabrizio. 

He met eyes with Fabrizio and slowly nodded. The man bowed his head and without pause drew his gun and shot Marco, the guard Emilio had been eyeing, in the back of the head point-blank. His other men didn't even flinch as Marco went down hard, the air ringing from the echoing gunshot. 

“Anyone else want to be little rats?” Emilio asked coldly. His men stared at him blankly. “No? Good.” He pushed his chair in, clapped his hands, and they were off. 

“You’ve already used up your allowance,” Tsuyoshi said harshly. 

“But-”

“No.” Tsuyoshi crossed his arms. 

“Dad-”

“No.” His steel conviction, on a good day, was amusing. Today it was just annoying Takeshi faster than usual. “You asked for your allowance three weeks in advance. What the hell did you do with it all already?” 

Tsuna looked between the two, worrying on his bottom lip while Hayato just watched on with a gleeful glimmer in his eyes. 

“I-” Takeshi’s face blanked “-we can’t talk about it. We signed NDAs.” 

Silence.

“What?” Tsuyoshi’s eyes bounced over to Hayato, who mouthed ‘vacation’ while gesturing to Tsuna behind his back. Oh. That trip to Kyoto that went crazy, then. Tsuyoshi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. How were these his children? “What do you need the money for?”

“Ice cream,” Takeshi grumbled, eyes narrowed as if he could intimidate his father into giving him some cash. How was this his son? Who did this punk think he was? “Tsuna wants to try this new ice cream out, right Tsuna?”

Tsuyoshi stiffened before steeling himself. He turned slowly, dread bubbling up in his chest as doe-brown eyes stared him head on. Oh, god dammit, he even had the jutted out bottom lip going on. Tsuna stood there, hands clasped in front of him like a saint praying, eyes wide and glistening and looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. 

Must. Resist. You can do this, Tsuyoshi. You were a cold-hearted assassin for how many years. You can’t be taken out by a fourteen year old’s puppy-dog eyes. 

“It’s a limited edition matcha soft serve,” Tsuna whimpered. Fuck, were those tears ? Tsuyoshi could physically feel the struggle in his heart. Must. Resist! “Mama had to cut back on my allowance for this month for reasons and Hayato’s check went to bills this week.” 

Tsuyoshi gritted his teeth. Nana, he knew, received monthly checks from her wayward husband (if he could even be called that). He knew, after the bills and groceries and utilities, that they had only a little left over. He understood this and knew that Tsuna knew the financial struggles as well. The Sawadas weren’t well-off as much as they were living and it made him sad at the idea that a child had to sacrifice certain treats to make sure his mother had enough to splurge and treat herself when she could. Because this child would put his mother’s comfort above his own happiness. 

And Hayato, who fibbed his age and worked part-time at the local conbini ...well, Tsuyoshi had already fought that battle and lost when it came to trying to convince the teen to not work. He wanted to support his mother so she wouldn’t have to struggle in the uncomfortable surroundings, still feeling a bit out of place. Tsuyoshi knew that foreigners weren’t accepted as readily as everyone liked to think. 

How were these his children? They were so stupid but so responsible at the same time. Hayato and Takeshi he could understand - they were mentally in their 40s. Tsuna was just a beautiful soul of a child who sacrificed too much to make his mother happy. 

He exhaled loudly and stared at the three hard. “I will give you enough money for ice cream. But -” he was hasty as Takeshi smirked like he won “-you three will have to handle the Friday dinner rush, got it?”

“Yes sir!” The three chirped, Hayato and Takeshi sharing looks over Tsuna’s head. No doubt, Tsuyoshi mused as he went to get the money, they’d make Tsuna sit at the table while they did all the work. Bless Tsuna’s precious heart but he was a human disaster and would cause more harm than help if he tried to serve or do anything in the restaurant. 

“Here. This should be enough for four ice creams,” Tsuyoshi spoke as he returned. He handed the money to Hayato, the most trustworthy and responsible of the three, and caught Tsuna’s beaming smile. 

“Thank you, Uncle!” Tsuna chirped. Tsuyoshi fought to hug the teen. Or future son-in-law. Maybe. He looked between the two other teens. Maybe. “We’ll hurry back with yours.”

Tsuna flushed as the man ruffled his hair, cheeks warming and smile growing softer at the parental gesture. No matter how often the father treated him like a son, he couldn’t get used to it. 

“Be safe,” he beckoned and the three left with waves. He sighed to himself, unable to hold back the curse towards the two men who tried to call themselves fathers to Hayato and Tsuna. They didn't seem to have positive father-figures in their lives and Tsuyoshi would be damned if he didn't try to fill in the shoes. 

Outside, Hayato and Takeshi both immediately took one of Tsuna’s hands, grips secure but gentle as they walked down the street. 

“So I heard that the toppings are unlimited,” Takeshi began as he swung their linked hands childishly. Sue him, he was allowed to pretend to be fourteen. “Sasagawa-san said to try the pocky sticks and the sprinkles.”

“Sprinkles are gross,” Tsuna argued as he nearly tripped over nothing. The two hands tightened and they balanced him out without much effort. “Think they’ll have strawberry chunks?” A gasp. “Or coffee beans?”

“Definitely,” Hayato piped up as he mentally calculated his loose cash. He could probably stretch out his lunch money for the week if he had to spend a bit more for Tsuna. Meeting Takeshi’s knowing frown, he jolted and jerked his head to stare ahead. Damn, caught in the act. His cheeks flushed.

“I have a few bucks still if the toppings cost extra,” Takeshi echoed Hayato’s thoughts, smile sharp as the explosive-professional glared at him. “So pick whatever you want, Tsuna.”

“Thanks guys,” Tsuna said just as he almost dropped into a pothole in the street. Takeshi and Hayato snagged him up quick, hearts skipping a beat at the dodged danger. 

And this was why Tsuna wasn’t allowed places by himself. 

“Get me coffee beans.” Tsuna pressed send on the message, leaning up against the tree for shade against the summer sun. The cafe, advertising this limited edition soft serve matcha ice cream, had a line out the door. Hayato and Takeshi volunteered to go in line and have Tsuna wait for them under the tree out front of the building. He hummed to himself, catching glimpses of Takeshi and Hayato inside the building already. At least the line was moving fast. 

“Excuse me.” Tsuna turned to his left, the sun further blocked by the daunting figure that towered over him. A man stood in his personal space, his sharp features hidden under the brim of his fedora. His suit, black and looking more expensive than all of Tsuna’s belongings put together, fitted over his muscular frame elegantly. 

He couldn’t move. There was something off about this man, a wrongness that paralyzed Tsuna and stole his breath all at once. The air around him was like storm clouds that sucked the warmth from the air and left a chill in his bones. Tsuna’s breath escaped him in a soft exhale, his eyes wide as the man pressed his arm above the teen’s head, effectively trapping him against the tree trunk. 

“Hi,” the man spoke, voice free of accent and words fluent without that notable forced enunciation foreigners carried when they tried to sound “proper” . “Thank goodness you’re here kid. I’m lost.” For being lost, the man looked as cool as a cucumber, body language relaxed and expression more smug looking than concerned or anxious. 

Tsuna couldn’t look away from the stranger’s dark eyes, something in his chest seizing tight. An uncomfortable warmth festered beneath his eyes, scratching and clawing through his brain and trickling down his throat in sultry droplets. Like triggering a childhood sense of nostalgia by a scent long-lost, he felt unable to properly place why or where he’d felt this before. His mind was a jumbled mess of silence and noise, clashing and making him unable to process anything besides the stranger leaning casually over him like a dominating force of nature. 

“Could you help me out?” His lips tugged into a smirk despite the forced desperation lacing his words. “I’m trying to find this address. I was with my companions who knew the way but I got separated from them.” His eyes glinted as he tilted his head ever so slightly, gaze sliding to the inside of the creamery. His free hand slide into his pocket and procured a folded piece of paper. He held it out to Tsuna. “What do you say? Help a friend out?”

Friend. For some reason, that word sent shivers down Tsuna’s spine and he hunched back into the bark of the tree, heart hammering in his chest. The world around him was fading, spotting, and even the man’s unnatural allure was beginning to dwindle the longer he stayed there. 

Oh, Tsuna thought distantly, barely catching the flicker of faint embers in the back of his mind’s eye, oh. Oh. 

“S-sure,” Tsuna forced out, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat as trembling hands reached for the paper. The man’s body language shifted, shoulders straightening as he picked up on Tsuna’s building anxiety. Tsuna ducked his head, escaping that scorching gaze, and opened the paper. He looked at the address and his insides went cold. 

“This-” he could barely hear his own voice over the roaring of blood in his ears “-this is my address.” A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and he went stone-stiff. The man’s free hand tightened around him, further keeping him trapped as a vicious smirk filled his expression.

“Don’t you know, Dame-Tsuna,” the man spoke in a tone that made his knees weak and something - something deep deep deep deep down within Tsuna twinged. “You shouldn’t be so willing to help strangers. You never know what they’ll do to you." 

Breathe. Breathe. His world was fading fast as his stomach churned and his toes and fingers numbed. He chanced a glance around the man to see Hayato and Takeshi at the checkout register. By luck, Hayato turned to check on him and they met eyes. Gem-like green went wide before he was dropping the ice cream cones in his hold, shoving past customers to get to the door. Takeshi was behind him, ice cream crushed in his hands as he followed on the teen’s heels. 

His chest seized again like a hand was reaching down his throat to squeeze his heart tight, and he choked out a gasp as he tried to shove the man away from him. His hands pressed into the warm chest and that festering little ember in the back of his mind hummed. 

His knees buckled. 

Tsuna came to like a snap from an elastic band - sharp and fast. One moment he was against the tree, the next he was upside down, being carried over the stranger’s shoulder like a sack of flour. 

Hayato and Takeshi entered his field of vision as he blinked slowly into awareness, mind sluggish in piecing together everything. 

“You alright, Tsuna-sama?” Hayato asked worriedly, hands wringing together in front of him as Takeshi’s cold eyes just bore into the stranger’s head. Tsuna’s eyebrows furrowed before he nodded slowly, wiggling to get the man’s attention. Obviously something was going on - Takeshi and Hayato wouldn’t have let some random man touch him if they didn't trust him. 

The man stopped walking and lowered Tsuna to the ground. Blood rushed to his head as gravity tried to claim him and he stumbled backwards into Takeshi’s chest. His friend wrapped a comforting arm around him, steadying him as the man watched them. 

“You good, Tsuna?” Takeshi asked. Tsuna blinked the stars from his vision, cautious as he glanced at the stranger. “This is Reborn. We didn't recognize him at first but he’s a friend. He’s safe.” 

It wasn’t a lie. Tsuna could tell when someone lied to him, like how he knew his mother lied to him about his father, about their finances, about her happiness, about himself. Takeshi wasn’t lying to him - not about this. But when had him and Hayato found the time to make friends with a stranger who made Tsuna’s skin crawl and those soft embers burn just a tiny bit brighter with each passing second? 

“Reborn,” Tsuna tested the name out. It felt like home on his tongue. 

He hated it. 

“You can’t trust every single person who comes to you for help,” Reborn chided softly as his brim cast long shadows across his face. “You never know who’s trying to fool you.” He scoffed and flicked his hat up, eyes narrowed in judgement. “You also need to grow a backbone. Really, fainting because of a bit of bloodlust? Pathetic.”

Tsuna just kept his gaze strong as he tried not to feel hurt that his friends weren’t coming to his defense. He didn't know this man. Who was he to put him down over a very real and very understanding fear of being snatched up? Tunsa had been under the impression he was going to be kidnapped or- 

Blood blossomed from the bullet wound in his stomach and his world blackened just as Takeshi charged at the attacker-

-worse. 

He lowered his gaze. 

“I understand,” he whispered in a grumble. He bowed his head, submissive to the authority figure in front of him. Doing so, he missed how Reborn’s eyes crinkled up in disgust at such a weak gesture. He missed how Takeshi and Hayato glared protectively at the man, silently daring him to try anything. 

“Good,” Reborn forced out instead, hands shoving into his dress pant-pocket. “Let’s go. Your dad’s waiting.” He noted how Tsuna’s lackeys stiffened at the mention of Iemitsu. Silence met his statement and curiosity controlled Reborn to look at Tsuna. What? No outburst of ‘but my dad’s dead!’ or ‘I don’t have a father’? 

“You mean… that man’s here?” Tsuna’s eyes were unreadable as he studied Reborn, eyes moving over the man’s expression, trying to pick apart any clues to if he was lying or not. “Is my mom okay?” 

Reborn’s eyebrow raised up. 

“What do you mean by that?” Judging by how Takeshi and Hayato were acting, silent and serious, they knew just exactly what Tsuna meant. Reborn hated that he felt like he was missing something. 

“My mom’s been telling me since I was four that my father died. Became a star or something.” Tsuna’s eyes slid to the side, tone going flat as his eyes lost a little bit of their luster. “But I know she was lying.” He shrugged. “So, is Mama okay?”

“Why do you think I’d know?” Reborn asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice. Tsuna pursed his lips before he shrugged again. 

“Well, let’s go then.” Tsuna squirmed until he was released from Takeshi’s hold, skipping forward. He turned back, holding his hands out. Reborn watched as the two latched on, Hayato on his right side while Takeshi took his left. 

How fitting. 

Ettore didn't know what to make of Sawada Nana. She was everything Oregano was not. Her smiles were open and bubbly, showing her true emotions without fear of being taken advantage of or ridiculed. She spoke her mind and laughed without worry. She opened her arms to Iemitsu the moment she’d open the door, eyes bright and smile wide. 

But she was a mother and just like any mother Ettore ever met, she was dangerous. Mothers were dangerous in a carnal, primal instinctual way. They would do everything and anything to protect their young and Ettore saw such a manner in how Nana’s smiles turned a little too sharp and her eyes turned a little too cold for how the woman acted just mere seconds before. 

She was still so kind though, her eyes softening at Lambo and Ettore as they were introduced. Her touch was gentle as she helped them with their bags, eyes hardening just the tiniest bit when Iemitsu asked if there was any beer in the house. 

“Sorry to intrude,” Ettore spoke bashfully as he slipped his shoes off. Lambo did the same, movements almost mechanical as he latched onto Nana’s leg. Nana bent down to scoop the child up, smile as soft as Oregano’s was when Ettore did something silly, and she gestured for Ettore to follow her in. 

“Don’t be silly, sweetie,” Nana spoke as she led him to the kitchen. Iemitsu was making himself at home on the couch. “You’re family so my house is your house. Feel free to make yourself at home.” She rested Lambo down at the table, tapping his nose when he gave a tiny whine. He burst into giggles, smitten and starry-eyed with the mother. 

Ettore could see how his father could have fallen in love with her, despite her status as a civilian. He wondered, absently, if she wasn’t a Sky herself. Her natural air was very calm and soothing. 

“Oh.” Ettore blinked. “You- you know who I am?” 

“Of course.” Nana went to the fridge, pulling out a jug of iced tea. She made herself busy, bustling through the cabinets to grab glasses. “Iemitsu made sure to explain to me before we got together that he had a son.” She smiled over her shoulder. “You’re a very handsome young man. Your mother must be gorgeous.” She winked.

Ettore gave a startled little laugh. He wasn’t expecting her to make a slight against her own husband. 

Oh, he liked this woman. 

“Tsu-kun will be home soon,” Nana explained as she handed him a cup of tea. She handed a plastic cup to Lambo, giggling when he blew a kiss to her in thanks. “I think you two will get along wonderfully! Tsu-kun always wanted a sibling.” 

Ettore’s smile soured as he occupied himself with sipping the tea. It was delicious and tasted faintly of watermelon. 

“I hope so,” Ettore whispered.

“Mamma!” Lambo called, effectively stealing Nana’s attention. “I wanna sleep with Big Bro Tsu tonight!” 

“Oh, well of course!” Nana gasped dramatically, appeasing to the child’s whims. “Tsu-kun would love that!” Lambo beamed happily and began to talk a mile a minute, gasping for breath between words and letters as Nana moved to sit with him. The teen took a moment to observe the two, slightly shocked by the ease at which the woman whole-heartedly opened her arms for the child. Lambo, himself, was acting like he'd always known the woman. She was just easy to go with the flow, it seems. He mentally stored away that observation for the future. Sawada Nana was not one to overlook. 

Ettore left the kitchen, looking over towards the entryway as it opened. Reborn walked through the front door, Hayato and the Japanese teen from the video following behind. 

Tsuna came last, short and doe-eyed and - whoa . It was like looking at a portrait of Giotto, the Vongola Primo. If their colors weren’t so different, Ettore would have thought the man had risen from the dead. 

Tsuna blinked at the unknown teen standing in his living room, taking in his features. He had a straight, slightly upturned nose and strong jaw-line - no doubt Iemitsu’s genes. He had amber eyes and short, strawberry blonde hair. His body was lithe and tall, skin slightly tan and muscles developed under his casual T-shirt and cargo shorts. 

Well, that explained why Tsuna was so short. This kid must have sucked up all the tall genetics Iemitsu had to offer to his offspring. Wow, how fucking rude. 

Silence hung in the air as the two continued to assess each other. Nana peeked out from the kitchen, eyes hopeful while Iemitsu flung an arm over the back of the couch and smirked at Tsuna. 

“Hey my Tuna Fish!” Iemitsu cooed as he jumped up, making a move to the teen. “Did you miss Papa?” He opened his arms wide to hug Tsuna. 

Tsuna ducked behind his two friends and they stood tall, not budging for the man. Ettore’s eyes sharpened at the Japanese one, Yamamoto, wasn’t it, who smiled darkly at Iemitsu. 

“Tuna Fish?” Iemitsu’s voice was a whine, like a child who was scolded in front of others. Embarrassed and tight. He was staring at the two teens warily. 

“How can I miss someone who’s off playing house with some other family?” Tsuna asked, voice controlled as he leaned around Takeshi. Iemitsu’s smile fell off his face. 

“Tsunayoshi-” Iemitsu wheezed as Ettore elbowed him out of the way. The teen bowed low, startling Tsuna.

“Hello!” Ettore lifted up to smile shyly. “I’m Ettore. I’m your half brother. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a very long time.” 

He watched those brown eyes flicker with some unreadable emotion and his body shuddered at the amber that flashed across the warm hue. 

“Hi,” Tsuna spoke cautiously as his eyes flickered between him and Iemitsu. “I’m Tsuna. I didn't know I had an older brother.” His eyes cut to Iemitsu in accusation. The man had the sense to look ashamed. 

A crash from the kitchen had them all turning to the entryway of the kitchen. 

Lambo, clad in his tiny cow-printed onesie, stood there with wide, watery eyes. He clung to Nana’s leg tight enough for his little nails to leave crescents in her skin. She looked down at him in worry. The child tittered backwards before he blinked rapidly. As if he’d seen a ghost and stricken on whether he should be afraid or not, his face scrunched up. 

Finally-

“Bw-Bwuahahahaha !” The tiny child suddenly exploded out, voice shrill and loud. “The- The Great Lambo has-has landed eyes on a ser-servant!” Tears trickled down his cheeks as he choked the words out. “The-The Great Lambo will have to take-take this servant under his-his-his wing!” His little knees knocked together as he used Nana more as a source of balance than comfort. 

“Who?” Tsuna crouched down, pointing to himself as Lambo wheezed. “Me?” 

“Y-yeah!” Snot dribbled down the child’s chin and he tried to clean his face, smearing his tears and mucus across his cheeks instead. “You- you will make a great lackey! If - If you’re with me then - then - then I- I can protect you! I can-” the words petered off as he his voice cracked into nothing and the tears won over. 

He burst out into loud gasping wails. Nana gasped and reached down to sooth him. Lambo darted forward, barrelling into Tsuna’s chest. Tsuna’s arms wrapped around the wailing child tightly, feeling those tiny hands grip at his shirt. 

“Shh, shh, Lambo,” Tsuna whispered as he rocked back onto his butt, drawing his knees up a bit to cage the child in. It was a subtle gesture, meant to keep everyone away more than to deter the child from leaving his arms. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

Lambo snuggled into his shirt, muffling his tears in the fabric. Tsuna turned wide, alarmed eyes to the adults in the room, his discomfort broadcasting loudly. 

“Rub circles along his back,” Nana whispered helpfully. Tsuna did as instructed and Ettore forced his gaze away to meet seafoam green. 

“Hayato,” Ettore greeted as he rocked back on his sock-clad heels. “So, this is a nice little city. Very quiet.” 

“Ettore-sama,” Hayato spoke tersely. His eyes looked suspiciously wet. “It is.”

“Yeah. I can see why you’d just up and abandon your duties as my bodyguard. It’s quaint.” Ettore’s eyes were dark as he smiled brittle pleasantries. 

“Tsuna-sama is my first priority,” Hayato said without shame, eyes churning with a suppressed storm. Reborn, Iemitsu, and Ettore tensed as Takeshi let out a cold laugh. 

“Haya,” Takeshi threw an arm around the silver haired teen, drawing him close as empty eyes surveyed the men, “you can’t be so open about that. People might take that as a weakness.” 

“I feel like I should be insulted,” Tsuna grumbled under his breath. He adjusted Lambo in his hold, the child’s sobs nothing more than heavy breathing and sniffles. “So, why are you here?” 

“I’ll make tea!” Nana announced suddenly and was back in the kitchen in the blink of an eye, escaping the palpable tension. 

“Do we need a reason to visit you?” Iemitsu asked, feigning hurt. His eyes were trained on Takeshi, who met his stare head on and as coldly. 

“After eleven years of nothing?” Tsuna’s voice made Iemitsu turn to him in shock. “Yeah, yeah you do. Mama might be more forgiving but I’m not.” He tightened his grip on Lambo. “So, Iemitsu , what do you want?” 

The man had the audacity to look offended that Tsuna was addressing him so distantly. 

“Congratulations, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn spoke from his place by the wall, leaning up against it with crossed arms, “you’ve been chosen to become the next boss of the Vongola Famiglia.” 

The festering ember flared up for a split-second and Tsuna’s heart ached . 

He stared at the hitman, arms loosening in shock to where Lambo had to scramble to stay against him. 

“Wh-what?” His voice sounded too loud in his ears. “What are you talking about? Is this a joke?” His heart was deafening him. “What’s Vongola?” Hayato and Takeshi were on either side of him in an instant, hands warm against his back and presence familiar and safe. 

“It’s a Mafia Family residing in Italy,” Ettore explained. “We’re from the Consulenza Esterna Della Famiglia - the External Advisors of the Family, of CEDEF. We’re basically a second Vongola, if you will. We keep balance in the Family and hold equal power to the Vongola Don.” He glanced at his father, who nodded in approval of his explanation. 

“Vongola,” he continued, “is probably the largest Family in existence, having a large following and even larger branches and allies. It was created a long, long time ago in Italy by your many greats-Grandfather, Giotto. He founded Vongola and its powers have grown to be one of the top in the world.” 

“Vongola,” Tsuna whispered, the single word choking him. “So-so what does this have to do with me?” 

“Like I said,” Reborn huffed out, eyes narrowed, “you’re the heir to Vongola.” 

Vongola . Tsuna hunched up as darkness flashed through his mind, followed by that ember, followed by a gentle hand in his hair and a painful apology. He screwed his eyes shut tight before he straightened, trying to appear strong under the expectant gazes facing him. 

“What if I say no?” His voice didn't sound as strong as he wanted it to. “Why can’t he do it?” He looked pointedly at Ettore. He ignored the self-disgust churning in the pit of his stomach and tuned out the ugly little voice in the back of his head whispering, Selfish selfish selfish Tsuna. 

“You can’t,” Iemitsu spoke seriously, tone stern. “And Ettore was born for the sole reason of becoming the head of the CEDEF. He cannot and will not take over as Vongola Head.” The man’s eyes were scorching. “You shouldn’t be so selfish, Tsunayoshi.” 

Was Tsuna’s entire existence born for the sole reason of being an heir then? Tsuna held his tongue on asking that question. 

Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be-

“I’m sorry, Tsunayoshi.”

-selfish.

“Why me?” The world was stifling. He felt too warm in his shirt and shorts. Everything was on the uncomfortable scale of hot . “I don’t - I never even heard of Vongola before now.”

“There’s no one else,” Reborn explained. Something in his tone was soft - misplaced. “You’re all that’s left. You don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t want to,” Tsuna said weakly. Something deep in his chest squeezed, pulled, and tore through him and he felt like crying. “I don’t want to.” 

Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish. 

Where was his mother with that tea? He needed her with him right now. He felt like he was being attacked on all sides. Hayato and Takeshi were silent, trying to respect him by letting him fight this battle on his own. 

He felt so alone. 

He screwed his eyes shut, arms almost a vice around Lambo. A flicker of orange, a heat that coiled through his chest, an explosion of colors that bled into his heart, ice-cold to the touch, darkness, whispered apologies-

Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish. 

“I’m so sorry, Tsunayoshi.”

His breathing was nothing more than a wet wheeze as his body sagged forward. Hayato and Takeshi held him tight, keeping him upright as he stared blankly at the floor beneath him. 

“I never had a chance,” he whispered, the words too soft for anyone to hear.  

“Tsuna-sama,” Hayato spoke softly and his hands were acid on Tsuna’s arm, “whatever you decide, I will follow.” You want me to say yes.

“Yeah Tsuna.” Takeshi’s laugh was razor blades down his spine and through his chest. “We’re with you one-hundred percent.” You don’t care what I’ll suffer - you only care for what I’ll become. 

Tsuna shied away from them, that rotten blackness in his stomach thickening as he saw twin looks of hurt on his friends' faces. He never shied from their touches, so used to their constant comfort that he could never think to purposely reject them. But here he was, pushed into a corner with no one to fight with him - for him. 

“I’m so sorry, Tsunayoshi.”

Don’t be selfish.

“Is-” he swallowed the bile bubbling up “-is there really no other option?” It was getting hard to breath in the humidity in the room. Why wasn’t anyone else feeling this heat? It was unbearable. He needed air. 

“No.” Reborn scoffed. “What part of ‘you’re the only one left’ don’t you understand?” Reborn’s eyes were unreadable as he surveyed the child trembling. He looked grey around the edges and was swaying. Hayato and Takeshi were stationed to catch him if he fainted. “You’re the last resort, kid.”

Don’t be selfish.

“I-” he couldn’t breathe “-I need to-to go.” He stumbled backwards, recoiling from his two friends as if burned. “I-I can’t-” It was punched out of him, nothing more than a guttural choke. His world was slipping, tumbling on its axis. He had to leave. He had to leave now.

Why can’t I be selfish?

Tsuna fled from the room after pausing to all but toss Lambo to Hayato. He fled like a coward, stumbling his way up the stairs with Iemitsu’s voice growling after his heels. He locked himself in his bedroom, leaning heavily against his bedroom door as the cool AC air of his room slammed into him. He slid down the wood, choking on his breath as he heard raised voices downstairs. 

A knock on his bedroom door startled him. He jolted, scrambling out of the way as Hayato and Takeshi let themselves in. Their faces were sullen, taking in their friend’s pale complex and wet cheeks. 

“Tsuna-sama,” Hayato whispered out and stepped further into the room. Without much preamble he scooped the shorter teen into his arms and held him close. “I know this is a lot to handle  but it’s not the end of the world. You’ll be amazing as the next heir to Vongola.”

His fate was already decided for himself. 

“Oh, Tsuna,” Takeshi just whispered as he joined in on the hug, burying his nose into Tsuna’s hair. His arms were steel bars trapping Tsuna into his role. These two had already decided what they thought was best. “Don’t be scared, Tsuna. We’re going to be with you every step of the way.” 

Leave him at the starting line. Leave him at the starting point of his path. Leave him to wither away. Leave him. 

“I don’t want to be a Mafia boss,” Tsuna whispered against Hayato’s chest. His hands dug in tight to the teen’s shirt. “I don’t.” Why couldn’t they understand that? He pushed every ounce of his desperation into his voice as he choked out, “ Please. I don’t want to be a Mafia boss.”

Why was he selfish for not wanting to do this? Wasn’t it selfish to force it onto him without any consideration of his thoughts or feelings? 

Why was he in the wrong? Why did no one listen to him? 

Was he that insignificant? 

Don’t be selfish.

Silence met his plea and he felt the two pairs of arms around his retract. His heart lurched before dropping to his stomach as Hayato and Takeshi stepped away from him. 

His eyes flickered between the two as they shifted to face him, twin expressions of determination on their faces.

“Is this how you truly feel?” Hayato asked simply. As if he hadn’t been hearing the internal and external struggle Tsuna was broadcasting for anyone and everyone to hear. 

“Yes.” Tsuna ducked his head, afraid to face his two friends. He clenched his hands together, fingers purpling from the tight grip. A hand reached out, tanned and calloused, and tilted his chin back up to face the two. 

“If that’s the case,” Takeshi’s voice was hollow but his eyes were bright with clarity, “then we’ll support you without question.” 

Stunned silence. 

“What?” Takeshi’s hand slid up to his cheek, thumb stroking soft lines under his eye. Hayato’s hands gently pried Tsuna’s fingers apart, rubbing soothing circles into his trembling hands. “What?”

“You don’t want to be the boss of Vongola?” Hayato asked softly, words brittle and tongue heavy. “Then we will make sure no one can force that upon you. Not unless you yourself want to take on the title.” 

“What do you take us for, Tsuna?” Takeshi drew Tsuna close, the two taller teens trapping him between them. “We’d never do anything to make you suffer. Have more faith in us, okay?”

Tears scorched down his cheeks as he hiccuped. “Are you serious?” Was he allowed to be this selfish? Was he allowed to ask such things from these two kind people, who’d follow him without question and would be with him until the end? “Am-am I allowed to be selfish?”

“Of course.” Hayato inhaled a pained, raspy breath before he pressed his palm flat against Tsuna’s chest. “Tsuna-sama, your happiness comes first before anything else. To yourself, you should always be a top priority.” His hand moved to cup Tsuna’s neck, tender and comforting. “And if your happiness deverts from Vongola…”

“Then you won’t be with Vongola,” Takeshi laughed out like it was all a funny joke. Tsuna felt how his hand shook with faint tremors and how he kept blinking back tears. “Whatever keeps you happy and safe.” 

Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be-

“Thank you,” Tsuna breathed out and he slumped forward against the two as the weight of everything crashed into him. His fingers dug into their shirts, anchoring himself between them, and he breathed in the faint scene of warm rain after a raging storm. “Thank you two so much.”

Takeshi squeezed Tsuna close, eyes meeting Hayato’s. The two let their shorter friend sob quietly as they held a wordless conversation. 

Vongola took a lot from them. Sure, it gave them a lot but in the long run, this entire scenario was different. Too many variables were different, from how all three met to the players in this game of death and blood. 

They didn't need Vongola. They weren’t obligated to some Family that took and took and barely gave back. Their priority was Tsuna. If he wasn’t Vongola Don, so many lives would be spared. 

Hayato nodded grimly to Takeshi, their silent mutual agreement not needing to be voiced. 

If Tsuna didn't want to be Don, then he wouldn’t be Don. They’d stand by him no matter what obstacles came his way and they’d fight for him and his decision. 

They owed him that much. 

Chapter Text

Tsuna awoke to Takeshi jerking them away in a roll, his body pinned between bodies as a green mallet bounced off his pillow. Reborn towered over the cuddled trio, teasing smirk on his face as Hayato growled at being disturbed. 

“Wh-what the hell?” Tsuna wheezed as he blinked his sleep-riddled vision at the hitman. Takeshi’s arms around his waist loosened, letting him prop up onto his knees. Hayato lifted himself up onto an elbow, glare half-assed as he scowled at the hitman. Reborn sneered at the three. 

“Don’t do that again.” Reborn warned Takeshi. “You’re ruining my fun.” 

“How did you get into my room?” Tsuna demanded. Reborn flicked him on the forehead in response, nearly sending Tsuna reeling backwards. The teen gave a cry of pain, curling up as he held his smarting face. 

“A Mafia Boss-” Tsuna flinched “- should always keep his room tightly secured. That also goes for clingy friends who don’t know the definition of personal space.” Reborn eyed the two mentioned teens. “Seriously, do you two have some sort of medical condition that requires you to be attached at the hip of are you just that obsessive?” 

“That’s a funny joke! What do you think, Haya? Would we die without being with Tsuna 24-7?” Takeshi smoothed a thumb over the rapidly-developing bruise along Tsuna’s forehead as Hayato just draped an arm around the black haired teen’s shoulder. 

“I think so,” Hayato bluntly responded without any emotion. Takeshi snickered while Tsuna just yawned widely. “What time is it?”

“Five o’clock in the morning,” Reborn replied as his mallet glowed and changed into a cartoonish looking chameleon. Tsuna stared. 

“That’s...it just…” Tsuna pulled on his cheek. “Ow. I’m not dreaming.” 

“No you aren’t. This is Leon.” Reborn’s voice was gentle as he stroked the reptile. “He’s my precious friend. Isn’t he handsome?” Leon’s eyes drifted to opposite sides. Tsuna shuddered. “Now get dressed. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.” 

Tsuna didn't move. Takeshi smiled smugly as Hayato plopped back down into the pillows. 

“It’s a school day,” Tsuna argued, unaware of his impending doom. “I have school in a few hours. What could I possibly-”

He was on the floor before he could finish his sentence, Reborn’s foot on his back without any real weight pressing down. Hayato and Takeshi held their throbbing heads. Reborn tapping his Leon-Hammer against his open palm. 

“Well.” Tsuna was hauled up by the back of his shirt. “We’re gonna go for a light jog.”

Light jog my ass, Tsuna mentally wheezed as he doubled over to catch his breath. His lungs burned, his vision spotting as his limbs trembled from the exertion. He was by no means out of shape, couldn’t be between the chaos Hayato and Takeshi dragged him through, but even running around the block continuously was pushing his limits. 

“Good job, Tsuna!” Takeshi cheered from across the road, leaning back against the concrete wall fencing in the houses. Hayato, slumped down on the dirty ground beside him, blew out a ring of smoke as he snubbed out his cigarette. 

“You-” Tsuna panted as he tried to keep his stomach acid inside his stomach “-you shouldn’t smoke.” 

“I also shouldn’t be up at the ass-crack of dawn,” Hayato seethed silently before his face scrunched up. “I’m sorry Tsuna-sama, I’m just sleepy and grumpy.” 

“No excuse!” Reborn snapped from behind the shorter teen. Tsuna gave a muffled shriek as he stumbled forward, head whipping around the glare at the hitman. He blanched. 

Reborn stood there proudly, decked in high-waisted short-shorts, a white T-shirt that hugged his muscles, sweat-bands, and a fake mustache. The shades and shin-high socks really cemented the costume. 

Tsuna wanted to throw up. 

“A subordinate should never talk back to their Boss. Dame-Tsuna, discipline Gokudera.” Reborn flicked his sunglasses down, gaze expectant as Tsuna just lifted his shirt to wipe at his sweaty face. 

“He didn't do anything wrong though?” Tsuna asked as he turned to look at his two friends. Takeshi was on the floor, face in his hands as Hayato just stared at the swordsman with an expression of reluctant acceptance. “Hayato apologized just now, too. He’s fine.”

“A Mafia Boss-”

“I’m not going to be a Mafia boss.” Tsuna’s voice had taken a hard edge to it as he gritted the words out. “So stop saying that.”

“You’re the last resort,” Reborn pointed out in a bemused tone. How adorable, he thought he could fight it. 

“I wasn’t exactly given an option, now was I?” Tsuna tried to stand tall, hands shaking. He was trying so hard to be brave. 

Reborn snorted. “You don’t have a choice. You’re going to be the next Vongola head and I’m going to train you. Might as well accept it now-”

“Reborn.”

Sunset burned in Tsuna’s eyes as he stared directly at Reborn, his head tilting to the side. His bangs, unruly from being wind-swept and damp, fell over his face in shadowed lines. The air, which had been at a comfortable cool without the summer sun’s warmth, went frigid. 

“I’m not going to be the next Head.” Tsuna took a step forward, neck craning back as he stepped almost under the man’s nose. “Don’t ignore me when I say that, understand?” If it weren’t for how his hands fisted into his damp running shirt, Reborn would have almost been impressed. 

Almost .

Reborn pressed the muzzle of his Leon-Gun against Tsuna’s forehead. 

The two guard-dogs stiffened. Hayato lurched to his feet while Takeshi just eyed the finger resting on the trigger. 

“You think you can tell me what to do?” Reborn asked, no longer in his work-out getup. His fedora made his eyes dangerous looking, all sharp angles and cold gaze. “You’re nothing but-”

“-the heir to Vongola. I’m all they have left, right?” Tsuna’s hands were knuckle-white against his shirt. “So you can’t do anything to me or that’s it, isn’t it?” His lips pursed out into a scowl. “Sounds like I’ve got the upper hand.” Even if he didn't want it. But until he got it through their thick heads, he would use the position to his advantage. 

“Upper hand?” Leon transformed back and crawled up the man’s arm as he laughed humorlessly. “ Upper hand ? Dame-Tsuna, you can barely run two miles without vomiting. Where the fuck do you think you have the upper hand?” Reborn’s lips pulled into an empty smile. “Where is this back bone of yours coming from?”

“If he doesn’t want to be Boss, then that’s that,” Takeshi spoke up as he moved across the street, drawing Tsuna away from Reborn. Ah, there was the backbone. “You should listen to Tsuna, Reborn. He’s pretty serious.”

“And if Tsuna-sama is serious, then we are too,” Hayato forced out from his spot against the opposite wall. “Be considerate of his feelings.”

“You want consideration of his feelings ?” Reborn’s voice was a growl. “Well, why didn't you say so?” 

The muzzle was back against his forehead and Reborn’s expression was a blank mask. 

“I’ll put you out of your obvious misery, then.”

Color bled out of the world. Static filled Hayato’s ears as the monochrome world dunked him under black water and kept him submerged. One moment he was watching Reborn pull the trigger on his Leon-Gun and the next he was watching his Beloved Boss die.

[For all the times Hayato had heard a gunshot, this one echoed like a roaring storm not yet done terrorizing the earth. It rung throughout his skull, physically painful to withstand. His eyes remained trained on the crumpled body in front of him, his mind screeching to a halt. 

He waited for the world to go black - for the Sun to implode. He waited for the stars to fall from the sky, waited for the oceans to dry and the earth to cave inwards. He waited for the world to end because it had to happen now that Tsunayposhi’s lifeless body laid there. 

They said when the one you loved died, it felt like everything was supposed to stop. Cease to exist. The world was supposed to errode with your grief because how could the world keep turning when your center was gone?

Hayato whole-heartedly believed that. He whole-heartedly felt that. 

“TENTH!” The title was torn from his throat in a guttural scream as he scrambled forward. Takeshi went down not even a second later. A raging shriek deafened him, his mind taking a moment to connect that he was the one making the noise. 

He crashed to the floor, everything too crisp and too loud in his confusion as to how he ended up on the marble. Pain laced through his left side and he felt something warm and wet seeping through his pant-material. He spared a glance. 

His leg from the thigh down was resting a good half-foot away from him. 

His mind stopped trying to function as everything after became a flurry of images and colors. 

He was dead he was dead he was dead he was dead he was dead looped like a mantra in his mind, blocking out the pain, blocking out the noise, blocking out the hands grabbing at him and hauling him onto his back.

Boss was dead and he had failed-]

“HAYATO!”

The asphalt under his chin stung as burning pain spread across his outreached hand. A switch-blade pinned his palm to the ground, blood pooling under the appenage. His other hand was pinned against his back by a weight. 

Takeshi leaned into his view, eyebrows pinched and lips pursed sourly. The teen adjusted his position, knee digging tighter against Hayato’s restrained arm. 

“You with us?” Takeshi whispered softly as he jerked the blade out quickly. Hayato fought through the pain as he forced his fingers to flex, mind stubbornly foggy as to how he’d ended up on the ground. “Haya?”

“Ah,” Hayato rasped, voice scratching tenderly. He winced, eyes moving from Takeshi to see Reborn standing over him. He had a gun, a real gun , pointed down at him, body coiled and stance showing how close he was to firing it. 

Tsuna was pressed up against the wall behind the man, one of his sturdy hands keeping him there. 

Hayato’s eyes burned against his will. “Tsuna-sama,” he choked out as he was hauled up to his feet. “Tsuna-sama, I’m so sorry-”

Tsuna shoved himself out of Reborn’s hold and rushed at him, crashing into his chest without heed. Hayato, with the help of Takeshi, kept upright and greedily latched onto the teen. 

“Don’t apologize,” Tsuna muffled against his collarbone. Hayato pressed his forehead against the crown of Tsuna’s head, breathing in deep as tremors racked through his body. His bloody hand fisted tight into Tsuna’s shirt, ruining the material.”Don’t ever apologize to me.”

Takeshi eased off of Hayato, hovering until he knew the teen could hold himself and Tsuna up. 

“I’m so sorry,” Hayato continued on wetly. “I just - I freaked out when Reborn pointed his gun at you…” He couldn’t force any more words out and he gave a keening whine as Tsuna just tightened his arms. God, he was pathetic. So spoiled and pathetic to greedily cling to his friend like this. 

“It’s okay, Haya,” Tsuna whispered and rubbed circles against the teen’s back. Like he was trying to soothe Lambo, Hayato thought without mirth. 

He was so pathetic. 

“You’re going to be late if you don’t go back to get showered and changed,” Reborn spoke up after a few minutes of the two just standing there in each others arms. Takeshi sent the man a glare while Hayato pulled away. He sniffled, rubbing at his face and red eyes. 

“Come on,” Takeshi said with great care, painstakingly gentle as he took one of Hayato’s hands in his, “let’s go shower. You smell like smoke.” 

“Fuck you,” Hayato forced out as Tsuna just latched around his middle. The three stumbled off in the direction of the Sawada residence, leaving Reborn to stand there. He stared down at the blotches of blood on the street, eyes unreadable. 

“Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me,” he whispered to the wind. Leon licked his cheek. 

“You should go home,” Tsuna said seriously, expression leaving no room for arguments. 

“I’m fine, really,” Hayato tried to fight, the soaked handkerchief wrapped around his hand begging differently. “I need to see a schoolmate instead. They’ll heal me.” 

Tsuna’s sternness disappeared into confusion as he blinked incredulously at his friend. “What? Heal you?” Was this some sort of RPG game? 

“Oh.” Hayato blinked and used his good hand to rub at the back of his head. “Um. It’s kind of hard to explain. You know how sometimes Baseball Idiot or I will summon colorful flames?” They hadn’t really talked about it much but Tsuna had taken their ability to use Dying Will Flames with ease, not questioning the obvious show of magic. 

“Uh-huh,” Tsuna fidgeted as moved around his bedroom, looking for his first aid kit. “What did you call them - Dying Will Flames?” He remembered Takeshi using them a week into their friendship, the beautiful blue color burned into his memory. 

“Yeah. A third year at our school has some that can heal,” Hayato explained honestly. He chanced a glance with Takeshi, who nodded. “Sasagawa-san’s older brother.” 

At the mention of their classmate’s name, Tsuna perked up. “Sasagawa-san’s older brother? He has flames too?” He pulled the plastic case out of his closet, scurrying over to Hayato’s slumped form. 

“Yeah. Sun Flames. Reborn has the same kind.” At Reborn’s name, Tsuna’s nose crinkled up. 

“Reborn? He doesn’t seem like the type to have healing flames. So, do the flames actually heal or is it more like a property that’s associated with healing?” Tsuna pulled out some white bandages, careful as he undid the tied handkerchief. Takeshi, sprawled out on the bed beside Hayato, snorted. 

“Sun Flames can increase the rate of blood flow and cell regeneration, which it why they’re mostly used or thought of as healing flames. They can also stimulate muscles and joints which is why Ryohei is always working out.” 

Tsuna blinked at the two of them, his face pale around the edges. “What - what do your flames do?” His hands were nimble as he tied the bandage up, movements methodical from years spent before Takeshi covering himself in plasters or band-aids from bullying or clumsiness gone wrong. 

“Mine are Rain Flames,” Takeshi rolled onto his side, propping himself up with a hand on his cheek. “They weaken anything they touch. I can weaken something or someone enough to either break it if it’s inanimate or kill them if they’re living.” His smile was not kind. 

“And yours?” Tsuna’s fingers lightly traced the newly wrapped bandages. Hayato let their fingers lace together, eyes crinkling up at the warmth those smaller hands held just under the surface. 

“Which ones?” Hayato whispered in turn, head angling to peer at Tsuna through a veil of his silver locks. “I can use five of the seven Dying Will Flames.” 

“Whoa, really?” Tsuna’s eyes went wide as he studied Hayato’s sullen expression. “Is that normal?”

“Not really,” Takeshit answered for his friend, free hand reaching up to fiddle with Hayato’s silver hoop earring. The teen flushed at the contact before swatting away the distracting touch.

“Most people can only wield one flame,” Hayato explained softly as he huffed, expression flattening. “Currently I’m the only known flame user who can use more than two.” He fidgeted, hunching his shoulders up. “The seven flames are Rain, Storm, Lightning, Sun, Cloud, Mist, and Sky. The only two I can’t use are Mist and Sky.” 

“Wow,” Tsuna breathed out. His eyebrows rose high. “Sky flames...those sound familiar.” His gaze slid off to the side before snapping back to Hayato. “So, what do your flames do?”

“My dominant flame is Storm,” Hayato explained patiently and smiled a small little smile as Tsuna nodded with rapt attention, “and it can decay and break anything apart that it touches - even other Flames.” He’d made his peace with such a flame, back in his first life. His family had seen it as a blessing while he saw it as a curse - after all, it’d been befitting for a motherless bastard like himself to use such a destructive flame. Now, though, he saw it for the gift it was - he would disintegrate anything that opposed Tsuna’s will. 

He held up his uninjured hand, ticking down a finger as he counted off, “Lightning flames harden. They increase the firmness of objects or solidify things. They can also be used to electrocute like actual electricity.” He ticked down a second finger. “Cloud flames have the ability to multiply and increase things like size or amount in terms of numbers.” He lowered his hand.

“And then you have Rain and Sun too,” Tsuna breathed out as he released Hayato’s injured hand. He stood, fiddling with his uniform shirt hem. “What about Sky?” 

“Harmony,” Takeshi said with a far-away look, hand reaching back up to mess with Hayato’s jewelry. The silver haired teen grumbled as he gave in, leaning in a bit to the bothersome hand. “Sky flames can combine all the other Flames to create new abilities. It can also petrify people and things.”  

“Harmony?” Tsuna echoed as he moved to grab his school tie. He wrestled with the material, pouting as the knot kept loosening. “That sounds kinda lame compared to the others. It’s like Sky Users are supposed to be protected.”

“On the contrary,” Hayato spoke as he beckoned Tsuna back over to the bed. “Sky Flames are powerful. That’s why only individuals with Sky Flames are appointed as Dons, in most cases”. His hands, stilted with the injury, made fast work of adjusting Tsuna’s tie. 

“So… I have Sky flames?” Tsuna tilted his head to the side before stealing a glance at the clock. They still had a little while before they had to get downstairs for breakfast. “I’ve never used them.”

“You’ve got a seal on yours,” Hayato spoke as he stood up, making sure he had everything for the day. “That’s why you can’t use them and why’re you’re...um…” He trailed off.

“An adorable human disaster,” Takeshi filled in with a beam as he sat up, yawning. Tsuna’s eyes went flat.

“What is that supposed to mean?’ Tsuna frowned at the two of them. “Are you saying my clumsiness was a result of this - uh - seal?” He felt cheated. First his newly introduced half-brother steals all the height genes Iemitsu has to offer, he was forced into a role he doesn’t want, and now he’s being told that his disaster of an existence was caused by some sort of seal? 

He definitely felt cheated. 

“Pretty much, yeah,” Takeshi confirmed and then hummed, tapping his chin. He considered Tsuna for a moment before he snapped his fingers, metaphorical light bulb going off. “Hey Haya, what if we-”

“But Reborn-”

“Yeah but if Tsuna isn’t gonna be Decimo, there’s no point in the Dying Will Bullets,” Takeshi pointed out. Tsuna looked between the two, lost to their one-sided conversation. “So why don’t you use your Storm flames to destroy the seal on Tsuna’s Sky flames.” 

Hayato blinked, lips pursed out as he thought it over. Tsuna’s eyebrows pinched up. They could do that? He rubbed absently at his chest. What seal were they talking about? He never remembered any sort of seal being placed on him. Then again, his memories from his childhood were a bit fuzzy before he was six-

Don’t think about that.

“Is that possible?” Tsuna asked as his two friends entered a silent staring competition. Hayato snapped out of it and looked at him. “Can you remove this seal? Would it hurt?” 

“I could,” Hayato conceded as he fixed Tsuna’s shirt collar, laying it down flat. “It shouldn’t hurt but - Tsuna-sama, if your flames unlock...you might have no choice but to lead Vongola. Sky flames, moderately rare in terms of users, are still sought after. If people catch wind you have Sky flames, you could be hunted or...worse.”

“But I don’t want this seal on me,” Tsuna said simply. “I- I don’t care about the Mafia. If I have something on me that’s...that’s hindering me, I want it off.” He frowned up at his friend. “Please?”

Hayato wavered before he dropped his head down, pressing his forehead to Tsuna’s for a brief moment. “I can’t promise anything but I will try my best, Tsuna-sama. Now, let’s go down to breakfast.” 

Takeshi put an arm around both their shoulders, squeezing them against him tightly. “It’ll be fine, Tsuna. Even with your flames, we’ll make sure no one forces you to do something you don’t want to do.” 

“Thanks,” Tsuna said genuinely and his two friends nodded solemnly. 

Hayabean: Well, it’s official. We’re rebelling.

PineapplePizza: Oh boy I love rebellions. 

ChocolateAngel: Mukuro-sama is dancing. He’s that happy. What’s happening?

StabbyMcStabStab: Tsuna doesn’t wanna be Decimo and...well...y’know. Haya and I think it’s best if we try and keep Tsuna as far away from the Mafia as we can. Even though someone made that hard

Hibirdie: You have something to say, Butcher?

StabbyMcStabStab: No, why would I want to say anything to the person who prematurely attacked a Family who, in this timeline, had done nothing to warrant the slaughter? Nope, I do not. (✿´ w` )

ProteinShake: Don’t make me boot you two. 

ProteinShake: So, what’s the plan?

Hayabean: If Tsuna-sama doesn’t want to be Boss, then he won’t be Boss. We’ll face Vongola if we have to.

PineapplePizza: Ooooh making enemies of the entirety of the Mafia World? I’m drooling

ChocolateAngel: image_Mukurp.jpeg

ChocolateAngel: He really is

PineapplePizza: My Nagi, why do you gotta do me like that?

Hibirdie: Someone has to put you in your place, mutt

PineapplePizza: Is it gonna be you? （´・｀ ）♡

ProteinShake: Really? In front of my salad? 

StabbyMcStabStab: But in all seriousness guys, we’ll need to prepare. Iemitsu and Reborn have Tsuna in a corner right now in terms of accepting the position. He’s trying his best to deny it but… Iemitsu is a stubborn fucker.

ChocolateAngel: I say we kill him. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Hibirdie: Seconded.

PineapplePizza: Third.

ProteinShake: That’ll be plan B. Let’s try and make a Plan A, okay guys?

Hayabean: Which one of us is the appointed leader of this group again?

ProteinShake: Kyouya

ChocolateAngel : Kyouya

PineapplePizza : Kyouya

StabbyMcStabStab : Kyouya

Hibirdie : Me

Hayabean: ...anyways,  Ryohei, I need you to heal my hand please. Meet you at the gate

Ryohei looked up from his phone, Kyoko standing beside him while she texted on her own device.

“Why are we waiting here, Onii-san?” Kyoko asked again as she looked up, eyes sweeping over the students for Hana. Her best friend was running late today, leaving Kyoko in a weird limbo of lonely and bored. So, without her natural deterrent in the form of Hana’s death glare, she lingered beside Ryohei. People were wary and hesitant in his presence (not that she knew why, he was a sweetheart) so she wouldn’t be bothered. 

“Waiting for a friend,” Ryohei said distractedly as he glanced at his phone again. A smile tugged on his lips, no doubt reading a new message, before he looked up again. Kyoko hummed, intrigued. Ryohei didn't have many friends. Again, she didn't understand why. 

“Who is - oh, there’s Sawada-kun.” Ryohei perked up beside his sister, eyes landing on Tsuna. He was in between Hayato and Takeshi, swinging their hands childishly as he talked. Unknownst to the three, many students were whispering and pointing at them. The Sun user snickered, knowing without a doubt they were discussing the supposed relationship of the three. It was the biggest speculation of the school, after all. 

Kyoko’s expression went through different arrays of emotions in the span of a few seconds; annoyance, glee, interest, jealousy, humor, and finally indifference as she plastered a smile onto her face. Ryohei wondered just what she was thinking, familiar and accepting that she never wore her heart on her sleeve. She was kind of like Takeshi, Ryohei thought. Keeping her true thoughts and intents behind fake smiles and empty words. 

Just, unlike Takeshi, she’d perfected it to where no one could tell when she lied. 

“Sasagawa-san!” Tsuna greeted as the three came to a stop in front of her and Ryohei. Tsuna’s cheeks dusted pink as Kyoko smiled wider at him. “H-hello. Sasagawa-senpai, hi.” Tsuna’s shouldered hunched as he greeted Ryohei, something in his eyes searching the taller teen.

“Extreme good morning Sawada. Gokudera, you needed me?” Ryohei turned his eyes to Hayato, who reluctantly pulled his hand from Tsuna’s grasp. He held out his injured hand, the bloody bandages peeking out. 

“Yeah. We’ll be back. Behave,” Hayato said pointedly, eyes narrowed on Takeshi. Takeshi laughed and saluted, perching his elbow on Tsuna’s head. Tsuna hunched under the weight before waving to the two. 

“So, how does Gokudera-san know my brother?” Kyoko asked, her tone polite but her curiosity showing through. Takeshi’s eyes were cold as they regarded her and she made sure her smile was the tiniest bit frosty. 

Kyoko disliked Takeshi and vice versa. It was a mutual dislike born 4 years before-hand, when Takeshi had first befriended Tsuna and Kyoko had grown curious in the tiny brunette. Takeshi disliked Kyoko for the masks she wore, how she played the innocent bystander when he knew for a fact she could easily punch a hole in the wall without damaging her hand. 

Kyoko disliked Takeshi due to the fact he monopolized Tsuna and always, always, got in the way of them becoming friends. Kyoko wasn’t too happy to have every and any chance to befriend Tsuna disrupted or ruined by Takeshi. Throughout elementary, Kyoko tried so many times to eat lunch with Tsuna that she lost count. She always tried to play with him at recess or talk to him during breaks. Each and every attempt was always intersected by Takeshi, who’d steal away Tsuna’s attention while smiling smugly at her.

If it hadn’t been for Hana, Kyoko would have probably gotten into fist-fights with the boy. 

“Oh. Um. He wanted to talk to senpai about something concerning a club…?” Tsuna sounded so uncertain and his lie was weak. He was so adorable! Kyoko mentally squealed at his poor cover, finding his inability to lie to her face heartwarming. 

“I see. So Sawada-kun.” Kyoko was subtle as she moved to Tsuna’s side, bodily shoving Takeshi  back. “Did you finish your homework for math?”

“O-oh. Um. I got the first half done. Hayato helped me through it but then we got distracted.” Tsuna’s cheeks flushed further and Kyoko marvelled in the apple-hue. 

“That’s fine. Hana-chan says she’ll meet me in the classroom, so if you want, we can go there now so I can help you?” Kyoko angled her body so she could see Takeshi’s murderous smile. She sent him a smug smirk back. Too fast for anyone but him to see. Not that anyone would believe him. 

“O-oh! Okay?” Tsuna looked between her and Takeshi, smile small. “I’d appreciate that, Sasagawa-san.” 

“Please.” Kyoko’s heart hammered in her chest as her smile turned blinding and genuine. “Call me Kyoko-chan.” This was her metaphorical middle finger to Takeshi, evil cackling and all. 

Tsuna’s entire face went beet-red, his words meshing together into stammered gibberish. Takeshi’s laugh was ice cold as he wedged himself between the two, his touch less than gentle towards Kyoko.

“Sasagawa-san, you can’t just ask that of Tsuna so suddenly.” His smile was like hundreds of knives pointed at her. “You aren’t even friends.” Those knives sunk into her.

“I think it’s fine, Yamamoto-kun,” Kyoko beamed back, her own metaphorical daggers at his throat. “We’re friends now, aren’t we Tsuna-kun?”

“ T-Tsuna-kun? ” Tsuna’s knees knocked together. Kyoko internally swooned. How dare Takeshi keep such an adorable friend away from her for so many years. “Um. Uh. That’s - that’s fine.” His smile was so pure, Kyoko almost had to shield her eyes. Takeshi was a dark cloud of foreboding gloom. 

“Let’s go then, Tsuna-kun. Are you coming Yamamoto-kun?” Just because she could, Kyoko linked arms with Tsuna. The students watching could only gawk, taken aback by the idol’s sudden clinginess to the infamous Dame-Tsuna. Takeshi’s laugh threatened to disembowel her. 

“Is this the game we’re going to play?” Takeshi asked as the three began to move, the taller of the three trailing in their shadows. Kyoko sent him an innocent look over her shoulder, her eyes purposely wide and her aura blissfully ignorant. 

“I have no clue what you mean, Yamamoto-kun. Ah, Tsuna-kun, we’ll eat lunch together too!” Tsuna just word-vomited a mess that was barely intelligible. 

Meanwhile, Ryohei led Hayato to the unused Boxing Club room, knowing that there would be no way they’d be interrupted. 

“So, how is your mother adjusting to Japan?” Ryohei asked as he closed the club room door. “She never grew up in Japan, right?”

“Yeah. Her mother moved to Italy to be with her father, so this is her first time in Japan. She’s..adjusting. Nana-san and Tsuyoshi-san have been a great help,’ Hayato explained as he began to unwind the bandages. “Bianchi wants to visit so Mamma is getting super excited about that.”

“She’s been here, what, two months now? Three?” Ryohei asked with a frown, eyes falling to the stab wound. “What did you do?”

“Two months, yeah.” Hayato shrugged his shoulders. “Takeshi. I had a bit of a freakout. The talk of Tsuna-sama not being Decimo didn't really go over well with Reborn this morning.” His eyes moved to the ceiling. “Honestly, I’m kind of relieved Tsuna-sama doesn’t want to be the Tenth.”

“Easier time to distinguish them?” Ryohei mused aloud as he took Hayato’s hand. The blood was clotting, no doubt from Hayato’s own Sun flames. He didn't have as much control over them as Ryohei did, so he still had to come to the teen for help in healing. Hands glowing faintly in yellow, Ryohei began to heal the stab wound. 

“Tsuna-sama is completely different from Tenth,” Hayato said without any hesitation. There was no doubt in his voice. Ryohei raised an eyebrow at the teen. “No. I’m just happy that this Tsuna doesn’t have to deal with the insanity of the Mafia. He’s...he’s more Dame than ours was.” 

“...No way,” Ryohei breathed out. He’d been keeping a distance from Tsuna, afraid if he forced himself into the teen’s life, he’d somehow trigger the future from happening again. He silently watched over the teen, like Kyouya did, but he hadn’t ever noticed any notable displays of Dameness. 

Hayato nodded sullenly. “It’s true. We-” 

He cut himself off, looking behind his shoulder. Apprehensive, he continued, “We took a trip. To Kyoto. It was a bonding experience.” His face faded into a haunted expression. “This Tsuna tops when it comes to Dameness. It was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare.” 

The Boxer eyed him worriedly as he finished healing the wound. He released his hand, backing up. “So, we going to fight tooth and nail to make sure Tsuna is happy?” 

“Of course,” Hayato said without missing a beat. “I assume you’ve been training since you regained your memories?” 

“Yep.” Ryohei’s grin was bloodthirsty. “I’ve been extremely preoccupying myself.” 

“Good morning!” Nana greeted Lambo as he shuffled into the kitchen, yawning widely. He was nestled in Reborn’s arms, the man silent as he dropped the child down into his seat. 

“Morning Mamma,” Lambo mumbled as he blinked bleary eyes at the sippy-cup that was placed in front of him. He blinked more, staring at the plastic cup. His eyes followed the hand that set it down, seeing Reborn sitting down next to him.

“What?” Reborn asked with a grunt, eyes silently daring the cow-child to say something.

“Nothin’,” the child whispered as he took the cup, sipping on the juice inside. Iemitsu looked back down at his newspaper, humming as he stabbed into a sausage on his plate. Ettore, helping Nana wish the dishes, peered over his shoulder at the two. “Where’s Big Bro Tsu?” 

Nana handed a clean plate to Ettore to dry, her smile gentle as she wiped her hands on her apron front. “Tsu-kun is at school, sweetie. Do you want some eggs? Reborn-san?”

“If it isn’t a bother,” the hitman said with a purr. Iemitsu glared at him over his paper. 

“School?” Lambo questioned and frowned. His eyes shuddered in their sockets before he set his cup down. “Big Bro Tsu doesn’t go to school. He’s too old for that!”

Nana giggled, enjoying the child’s simply-mindedness. She went to the stove, a carton of eggs already out to use. “He’s not that old, Lambo-kun! He’s still got a few years to go before he’s done with his studies.” She cracked an egg into the pan, turning the burner on. “Maybe. Sometimes I worry he won’t graduate.”

“Are his grades bad?” Ettore asked. He, himself, was homeschooled and was curious as to how the Japanese education system differed from his. 

“They’re a little below average,” Nana explained and touched her cheek, sighing. “But the issue is sometimes I worry Takeshi-kun is going to try and convince him to elope before even entering high school.”

Iemitsu spat out his coffee, hacking loudly. Reborn, who’d helped himself from the coffee pot, raised an eyebrow at the woman. 

“They-they’re dating?” Iemitsu wheezed, tears in his eyes from inhaling his coffee. 

“Oh, no.” Nana scrambled the eggs, humming to herself. She was doing it on purpose, Reborn thought. Dragging out the suspense. “But it’s obvious Hayato-kun and Takeshi-kun are in love with Tsu-kun. You just have to take one glance at them to see it. Poor Tsu-kun is so obvious.” 

“O-oh.” Iemitsu wiped at his mess, green around the edges. “So, so he’s single? I’ll introduce him to some cute girls then.”

“Why?” Nana turned from the stove, spatula waving in a single clean swipe. “Tsu-kun loves Hayato-kun and Takeshi-kun too. Tsuyoshi and Lavina and I were talking about it. We’d be happy to be inlaws!”

“Nana!” Iemitsu sputtered. She was fucking with him. Reborn hid a smile behind his coffee mug. She had a sense of humor. He’d almost forgotten how much of a trickster she could be when it came to Iemitsu. Tsuna’s sass and smart comments hadn’t been born from repressed years of torment or Reborn or developed from years with his Guardians. No, they’d come from his mother, who’s silver tongue was hidden behind carefully constructed layers of forced ignorance. 

Judging by Ettore’s considering expression, he’d also picked up on the fact that Nana was teasing her husband. 

Nana dished out the plates, putting them down in front of Lambo and Reborn. She winked at Reborn as Iemitsu continued to weakly argue in the background. She went to clean the pan and paused.

“Oh dear.” Nana tapped at her chin. “Tsu-kun forgot his lunch.”

Ettore was quick to place the dried dishes down and reach for it. “I can bring it to him, Nana-san.” He’d already endeared himself to her, taken by her sweet nature. 

Smile wide, Nana turned wide eyes to him. “Oh, would you really? I’d greatly appreciate it, Ettore-kun! After you come back, I’ll show you how to make curry!” 

“Curry!” Lambo cheered, nearly flinging his fork out of his hand. “I want to go see Big Bro Tsu too!”

Nana clapped her hands, laughing. “I’ll draw up a map! You and Ettore-kun can go take it, alright Lambo-kun?” Lambo cheered again and Reborn snatched the flung utensil when it slipped from the child’s loose grip.

“Hey,” Reborn snapped and Lambo paused. “Eat your food first or you won’t see Dame-Tsuna.” Lambo gasped in horror and hurried to shovel food into his mouth. 

A displeased frown met him as he looked up at the Boss of the House. Nana tilted her head at him, frown speaking volumes of her upset. “Reborn-san, I know I can’t control things outside of this house but when you’re under my roof, please don’t call my son Dame.” 

Reborn’s other eyebrow raised up, face slacking in surprise. Iemitsu looked at her from over his paper. Nana stood firm. 

“Tsu-kun is brilliant and beautiful and if you call him Dame again, you will find lodging somewhere else.” Nana’s eyes were serious. “Do you understand?”

She was showing her hand. Reborn’s inner hitman raised up to the challenge. She was threatening him. She would follow through with it too. She didn't say ‘I will have to ask you’. No. She said ‘you will’. If he screwed up on this single request, she would make him leave. 

Iemitsu was an idiot if he thought Nana knew nothing. Her eyes told tales of secrets and guarded concerns. 

Reborn nodded once and tried to hide his smirk behind his mug again. This place was just getting more and more interesting. 

They didn't make it to the classroom. Instead, Mochida cornered them while they were at their shoe lockers.

“SAWADA!” Mochida roared, entryway silencing as he stomped towards the teen. Takeshi leaned up against the lockers beside Tsuna’s, arms crossed as he surveyed the incoming threat. He must not have been worth Takeshi’s time because the teen didn't do much besides sidle just a bit closer. Kyoko, on Tsuna’s other side, paused her conversation to watch him charge forward.

“What-what-what-!” Mochida’s face was almost purple with anger as he looked between Tsuna to Kyoko. “Why the hell are you talking to her?” 

“What-what do you mean?” Tsuna asked as he shrunk back, trying to appear smaller and less of a target to the towering teen. “We-we’re friends?”

“Who the fuck said you could be friends with her, huh?” Mochida snarled as he slammed a fist against the lockers near Tsuna’s head. Takeshi’s sharp eyes watched, knowing that for all Mochida talked, at this time in his life, he had no bite. Still, only Kyoko seemed to notice the switch-blade Takeshi was idly tapping. 

“K-Kyoko-chan did?” Tsuna stuttered. Bad move. Mochida’s expression blackened. 

“ Kyoko-chan ? Sawada, you gross little cockroach!” Mochida slammed his fist against the locker again. “Scum like you don’t get to call her so familiarly.” 

“Mochida-senpai.” 

Mochida jerked his head towards Kyoko, who smiled sweetly at him. Behind her, Hayato and Hana were making their way towards the gathering crowd, Hayato looking furious while Hana looked annoyed. 

“Kyoko-chan! Good morning.” Mochida shoved Tsuna out of the way, leaning up against the lockers to smile at the idol. “I’m dealing with this shitstain right now but-”

“Mochida-senpai,” Kyoko interrupted, smile take a biting turn, “Tsuna-kun and I are friends.” Her hands, clenching her bookbag, were shaking. Her knuckles were white and the air around her was frigid. “I don’t like when people are mean to my friends.”

“K-Kyoko-chan?” Mochida wheezed as Hana elbowed her way through the students, snarling as they barely budged. Hayato had less luck, elbowing and punching against unbudging backs. Further back, Kyouya and Ryohei were slowly making their way towards the lockers. 

“Also, senpai.” Kyoko tucked a stray lock behind her ear, peering up cutely at Mochida. Her eyes promised pain. So, so much pain. “Who are you to speak for me? I don’t remember us being friends.” 

Her words were tiny little razor blades, sliding between his ribs with deadly precision. He wavered, paling as he backed up from her. Kyoko smiled, all teeth, before reaching out for Tsuna’s hand. Brushing past the upperclassman, she turned over her shoulder to giggle, “If you continue to act so familiar with me, I might get upset.” 

She knocked her shoulder against Takeshi as she tugged Tsuna away, the swordsman whistling lowly. 

Damn. Maybe he’d been too hard on her because of misplaced feelings from his past. 

“What-what just happened?” Mochida whispered in a small and lost voice. Takeshi patted his shoulder, switch-blade back securely in his pocket. 

“That, my sad little friend,” Takeshi sighed sympathetically, “was you getting your ass handed to you in a verbal beatdown." His hand tightened almost painfully on Mochida’s shoulder and the older teen winced. 

Another hand clamped down on his shoulder and Mochida looked behind him to see Hayato’s deep scowl. 

“If you ever threaten Tsuna-sama again,” Hayato seethed as Hana shoved past them to chase after Kyoko, “I will personally make sure you can never have any offsprings.” 

With that the two left to follow after Hana, leaving Mochida and the crowd of students to gawk. 

The bully quickly shook off the shock, hands curling into fists. His nostrils flared. That damned Dame-Tsuna, embarrassing him like that! His eyes narrowed as he stalked down the hall, towards the stairs to his homeroom.

He’d show that little runt.

Chapter Text

“Lambo, I don’t think you can pick those,” Ettore called as he worriedly looked around. Lambo was crouched near the side of the street, little hands grabbing fists of little flowers growing out of the concrete cracks. “Come on, we need to take Tsunayoshi his lunch.”

“Yuh-huh!” Lambo called back as he shoved a handful into his onesie-pouch. He patted his bulging stomach, giggling to himself. “Imma give them to Big Bro Tsu! He always gets happy when I give him flowers!”

Ettore smiled goodheartedly, not voicing that he just met the teen last night and have never given him flowers before. Lambo’s imagination was wild, creating such intricate stories. Ettore wondered if, even on a subconscious level, the child retained information without realizing it. It’d be the only explanation for his eccentric lies and stories involving Tsuna. 

Maybe when he was still on his medication, in his haze, he absorbed the hushed talks concerning Tsuna and the title of Decimo. 

Oh well. This Lambo was more refreshing than the husk the child had been when he first came to the Mansion. 

“Mamma will like the flowers too!” Lambo explained with as much seriousness as the child could muster. Ettore amused the boy, crouching down beside him. The child looked up and the older teen was taken aback by the solemn frown he was met with. “Mamma doesn’t like yellow or white lilies and chrysanthemums though.”

Ettore wavered for a brief moment, unable to properly speak after such a serious comment. Maybe he was echoing how his own birth mother’s taste in flowers? He didn't pester the child too often about his life with the Bonivo Family, too many tantrums and screaming fits making him reluctant to bring it up. 

“Nana-san might not liked crushed weeds. Actually, she might be more happy to get some big flowers,” Ettore said in a whisper. Lambo’s mouth opened in an ‘o’ before he nodded vigorously. “How about this.” He scooped Lambo up into his arms, the child giving a slight giggle at being manhandled. “After we drop off Tsuna’s lunch, we stop at that florist place we passed on the way here? You can pick out a flower for her.” His heart warmed at the beaming smile that answered him. 

“Yay! I’ll get her the biggest sunflower they have!” Lambo cheered. Ettore smiled and turned to continue on their way. 

Only to pause as a girl seemed to appear out of nowhere, nearly knocking into him. Her arms were overfilled with grocery bags, laden down from the amount. Her purple hair, tied into a messy bun, matched her wide purple eyes. 

She hadn’t been in the street just seconds before. Ettore would know - he’d been surveying their surroundings the entire time. Keeping his grip on Lambo, Ettore smiled professionally as he steadied the girl. 

If he wasn’t suspicious of her, he’d have thought her cute. She was gorgeous in a dangerous way, like all women raised in the Mafia were. Her eyes held a hidden steel and her posture a secret sharpness. Even with her slightly rounded cheeks and slender physique, her innocent appearance was hampered by the air of Mist flames that clung to her like a second layer of skin. 

“I’m sorry.” Even her voice was unassuming, soft and adorable like a little mouse’s squeak. Perfect for someone to let their guard down to. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

“It’s fine,” Ettore said as he took a step away from her, mind racing on how to act. “I didn't see you.” 

Her purple eyes glinted before her gaze fell to the child in his arms. 

And like a light switch flicking, her expression softened considerably. It reminded him of his mother. Or how Nana looked at Tsuna.

A mother’s loving gaze. 

“Hello little Lightning,” the girl greeted as she shifted her grocery bags more comfortably onto her arms. “You look a bit thin.” She bent down, setting down her bags. Following her bags down into a crouch, she rummaged through them until she stopped and pulled out a small package of hard candies. “Here you go, little Lightning. Mukuro-sama told me to pick some up. Now I know why.”

Lambo’s expression brightened like the sun rising through dawn and he all but toppled out of Ettore’s hold. 

“Big Sister Chrome!” Lambo shrieked in joy and flung himself at the girl, all but slamming himself into her middle. The girl, Chrome, giggled and hugged the child back tightly. Ettore stood there, tension bleeding from him as confusion settled in. 

“You two know each other?” How? When? Ettore would have known. He’d have remembered her. Her cute, appealing appearance and Mist flames would have stuck out in his mind. So when had this child met her? Back when he lived with the Bovino Family?

“Yes,” Chrome answered as she looked up at him, her right eye glowing red. “We’re Family.”

“What the hell is going on?” Hana hissed as she slapped a hand down on Tsuna’s desk, eyes daggers. “Why are you bothering Kyoko, Monkey?”

“Hana-can,” Kyoko began firmly, “Tsuna-kun and I are friends. Be nice to him.” The scolded girl tensed, eyes moving to her friend. Kyoko rested a hand on Tsuna’s arm, her eyes unwavering from Hana’s glare. 

“When did this happen?” Hana asked, shoulders relaxing. Her eyes flashed to Takeshi, who was leaning a palm against his cheek as he watched them. “How did this happen?” After all, she knew about the weird rivalry between the school idol and the infamous baseball player. The only reason Yamamoto wasn’t popular and highly respected like Kyoko was because of his status as Dame-Tsuna’s shadow. 

“Onii-chan acted as the bridge!” Kyoko clutched a fist in front of her in victory, eyes flashing triumphantly before her smiling face came back full-force. “Tsuna-kun is going to eat lunch with us today!” Her eyes glanced at Hayato and Takeshi. “I guess those two can join.”

“Oh,” Hayato called out dryly, “thanks for the warm welcome.” He rubbed at his healed hand, thumb smoothing over the scar where the wound had been. He shifted in his seat, turning to tap on Tsuna’s desk corner. “You need me to look over your homework?”

“No need,” Kyoko butted in before Tsuna could speak, “I helped him finish it. Tsuna-kun’s a fast learner!” Her eyes glinted like a cat who’d caught the canary. Hayato’s eyes narrowed.

“Yep,” Takeshi said without mirth at Hayato’s darkening expression, “I totally get it.” 

“Why?” He whispered in a hiss, turning to face his friend. “How?” How was she so drastically different from their Kyoko?

“Ryohei,” Takeshi explained with a shrug. He laughed and hooked his ankle around Tsuna’s chair leg, tugging. Tsuna lurched to the side as he was bodily dragged closer to his two companions. “Tsuna’s eating lunch with us.”

“No,” Kyoko said, ice slowly creeping onto her tongue, “he’s eating with me.” 

“How about,” Tsuna began tentatively, squeaking when twin-pairs of smiles met him, “I eat alone? Please?” This was really weird. Kyoko was being really weird. Takeshi and Hayato weren’t any different from usual, the black haired teen especially, but Kyoko…

Though, honestly, he hadn’t had a real conversation with her before. Maybe a passing sentence or asking a question about homework, but nothing too substantial. He couldn’t say Kyoko was acting weird because he’d never socialized with her. Maybe she was always like this. Or maybe being school idol put her on such a pedestal that any action against the ideal was weird. 

“That’s not even an option, silly,” Kyoko giggled. Her laughter fell flat. “We’re eating lunch together, Tsuna-kun. That’s what friends do!”

“Don’t worry,” Hayato whispered as Takeshi and Kyoko entered a smile contest that slowly morphed their side of the classroom into a blizzard-ridden wasteland, “I’ll sneak you away when the lunch bell rings.”

“Good luck,” Hana huffed and the teacher walked in. They all went to their seats, Tsuna feeling a bit lost as to how his morning had ended up this way. Oh well. Hopefully by the time lunch actually came around, Kyoko would realize he wasn’t worth the trouble of befriending and ignore him. 

Only she didn't. 

When the lunch bell rang Kyoko was at his desk before Hayato could even turn around in his seat. Takeshi gave a grunt as he stood, Hana standing beside Kyoko with an expectant eyebrow raised. 

“Let’s go eat outside,” Kyoko said as she held up her lunchbox. She blinked cutely. “Where’s your lunchbox?”

“I-” Tsuna paused and rummaged through his bookbag, frown settling in as he saw it was empty “-forgot it.”

“Perfect! I made too much today.” Kyoko stepped back, clearly silently demanding Tsuna follow her. He looked to Hayato and Takeshi who both shrugged their shoulders and nodded. Sighing, Tsuna nodded in reluctant agreement. 

“SAWADA!” Mochida slammed the classroom door with such force it bounced off the sill. “You and me! Right now! Let’s go, asswipe!” He had to have had a deathwish. Takeshi didn't remember Mochida being such a suicidal idiot but yet here he was, stomping his way over to Tsuna. 

“Mochida-senpai,” Kyoko began, Hayato and Takeshi being the only two (sans Hana) who noticed the bitter tone she had, “Tsuna-kun-”

“Shut up,” Mochida spat without thought and Kyoko’s voice faded, caught off guard. Hana saw red and she reached forward to grab the upperclassman by the hair when Tsuna stood quickly from his seat.

“Apologize to her!” Tsuna spat out, nearly tripping over his chair legs. The classroom was silent, the students eager to watch the fight unfold. “Don’t you tell Kyoko-chan to shut up!” 

Mochida snarled and grabbed at his shirt collar, jerking him off his feet. “Don’t act like you’re better than me, you cockroach. Let’s go!” He pivoted on his heel and dragged Tsuna out of the classroom. 

CRACK.

Slowly, eyes turned just in time to see Kyoko let go of the corner of Tsuna’s desk, the broken off piece dropping to the tiled floor. Kyoko gave an empty laugh, her eyes dead as she wiped her hand on her skirt. 

“Hana-chan,” Kyoko spoke slowly, “let’s go root for Tsuna-kun.” She grabbed her friend’s hand, almost bruising, and stormed out of the classroom. 

“I think I love her,” Takeshi breathed out, eyes wide. “Or at least her bloodlust. It reminds me of Lal.”

“You can say that again,” Hayato grumbled as he nudged Takeshi with his shoulder and jerked his head towards the direction of the door. 

The students scrambled to follow. 

“So how do you know Lambo?” Ettore asked as he followed beside Chrome, his arms burdened by her grocery bags while she bounced the small child in her arms. Chrome looked at him out of the corner of her eye before blowing a raspberry in Lambo’s face. He giggled and she smiled softly.

“I’ve known him for...a long time.” Her eyes gained a fog before she shook herself out of it. “I’m like an...older sister to him.” Lambo hummed and wiggled to get himself more comfortable, eyes moving up to her face. He raised a hand and Chrome let him touch and prod at her exposed eye, mindful of Ettore’s watchful gaze.

“It’s gone,” Lambo whispered, eyes darkening. “No more eyepatch?” 

“No more,” Chrome confirmed as she gently took his hand, guiding it away from her cheek. “I’m fine now, Little Lightning.” 

Lambo’s eyes searched for her for a moment before his gaze trailed down. Ettore opened his mouth to chide the child for his lowering gaze. How rude!

“Everything’s fine?” Lambo whispered and Chrome’s eyes closed for a pause before she nodded.

“Everything’s fine,” she echoed. She turned her eyes to Ettore. “So, you have Mist flames?” Her head tilted to the side just the tiniest bit to make her hair fall in her face. Now that Ettore knew he was an ally, he could admit that, yeah, she was gorgeous. He wondered if she had a boyfriend. 

“How old are you?” Ettore asked, shifting the bags into one of his hands. Chrome pursed her lips as his redirection of the conversation but didn't comment. 

“Thirteen,” Chrome explained softly. Ettore mentally ‘oof’d. Too young for him to even be the slightest bit interested in pursuing her. “You also have Storm flames?” Her eyes went a bit wide at her comment. “Oh, your primary is Storm and your secondary is Mist.”

His blood went cold.

“Are you receiving information right now?” He dropped her bags, Lambo in his arm in a second. His free hand pressed her against the cement wall to the side, pinning her there. She stared back at him, impassive. “Where’s your wire?”

“No wire.” Chrome’s right eye bled red before she disappeared into mist, tendrils coiling around Ettore’s fingers. A trident’s tipped edge pressed under his chin and red and blue eyes met his. 

“Kufufu.” What the hell kind of laugh was that? “My Nagi is a bit evasive.” The teen’s eyes moved down to Lambo and something in his expression pinched. “Cow Child.” Mist flames curled around this stranger like a warm blanket and Ettore shifted backwards, instincts going haywire. Who the hell was this guy and why were his flames so potent?

“Pineapple Menace!” Lambo cheered out in delight. The stranger’s dangerous aura instantly vanished as he physically doubled over, clenching his chest. 

“Don’t-” the teen choked out “don’t call me that. Skylark is a horrible influence on you.” He straightened, clearing his throat as he waved his trident away into plumes of mist. “Ettore Sawada, Heir to the CEDEF. Mother is Oregano - no last name on file - and father is one Sawada Iemitsu.”

Ettore tightened his hold on Lambo. The teen raised his hands up placatingly. “I’m Rokudo Mukuro, a former child of the Estraneo Family.” 

Disgust caused Ettore to recoil away from the teen, embedded knowledge shoving itself to the forefront of his mind.The  Estraneo Family? Those disgusting child abusers who experimented on humans? After the entire annihilation of the Family, their research and dark secrets had been dragged to the light and-

Wait. Rokudo Mukuro? 

“You’re a wanted criminal.” The words fell flat as Chrome materialized beside Mukuro in wisps of mist, her grocery bags gone and her hair no longer in a bun. “You’re wanted on the crimes against that Family.”

“They’re no Family,” Mukuro spat with narrowed eyes. Chrome slipped her hand into his and squeezed. He calmed considerably. “Namimori is Sanctuary. You can’t attack me here.”

Ettore’s mind blanked. 

“Sanctuary? Says who?” Lambo wiggled in his arms and he couldn’t stop the child from tumbling out. Mukuro snatched him up before he could kiss the asphalt and handed him off to Chrome. 

“The Hibari Clan has very strict and respected rules surrounding Namimori and Kokuyo. Any and all underground groups must abide by them. Sanctuary is one of them. As long as we claim it, we’re protected.” Mukuro wrapped an arm around Chrome’s shoulders, drawing her close to his side.  “So you can’t hurt us.”

“I have no reason to hurt you,” Ettore answered simply. His stomach clenched at the sight of Lambo with the two. They were dangerous. Dangerous and unknown variables. His mind spun. He hadn’t heard anything about some Clan controlling the city or the neighboring city. “The Vendice will handle you.” 

If it’d just been Chrome, he could have handled everything quickly and without any issue. But Mukuro - Mukuro was strong and his flames were potent enough to cause the air around them to have a thin veil of fog lining their ankles. There was no way Ettore could grab Lambo and escape without engaging. 

And he had no clue as to just how intense that engagement might be. 

“We’re not enemies,” Chrome spoke up, eyes on his face and no doubt picking up on his facial cues. “We’re allies.” She opened her mouth, paused, before continuing on. “We’re loyal to Tsunayoshi.”

“What?” Ettore was metaphorically beaten over the side of the head with that statement. “What the hell? Who are you two?” His hands itched to snag Lambo. 

“It’s not as simple as giving you a short and sweet answer,” Mukuro spoke up. “Do you have time to sit and listen?”

Tsuna didn't need lunch. This was more important. Ettore looked between the two of them before nodding. 

“Beat the shit out of him!”

“You can do it, Mochida!” 

“Mochida’s digging himself a grave. He’s gonna get beaten up by Sasagawa-chan’s brother!”

“Forget her brother, Yamamoto and Gokudera are going to hide his body after they beat him to death!”

Tsuna stood there, trembling, eyes flickering around the crowded gym. This was why he didn't socialize outside of his two friends. It always led to trouble. He’d been content with Hayato and Takeshi, even if their relationship was borderline unhealthy codependency. 

He caught sight of Takeshi and Hayato making their way to the front of the crowd, expressions guarded as Kyoko and Hana stood by them. 

Tsuna watched how Kyoko’s face went blank when the battle was declared for her. Tsuna’s gaze snapped to Mochida at that. 

What ? He was treating Kyoko like she was an object, some item fought for. Like she amounted to nothing but a trophy. 

“Kyoko-chan isn’t something to fight over!” Tsuna hollered to be heard over the din of the loud gymnasium. “She’s her own person and she doesn’t need you to be controlling who she talks to and who she befriends!” 

“You need to learn your place, Dame-Tsuna!” Mochida yelled, throwing a shinai at him. In his own hand, he held a sturdy looking wooden bokken. 

Tsuna clumsily caught the bamboo sword and winced as it slipped from his hold and rolled over to his friends. 

Kyoko ducked down, grabbed the shinai, and marched towards him. 

“Ah, thank you-” Kyoko stepped in front of Tsuna, shinai clenched tightly in her hand. 

The gym went silent. 

“Ky-Kyoko-chan?” Mochida looked between the sword in her hand to her blank face. “What-what are you doing?”

“Fighting for myself,” Kyoko said without any infliction in her tone. In the ringing silence, everyone heard her. “If I’m the prize, why can’t I fight for my own honor?” 

“But-” Mochida blinked stupidly “-you’re..”

“ What , senpai?” Kyoko’s grip on the handle tightened. “A girl? The prize? Too weak to fight for myself?” Her stance straightened, the center of her gravity shifting as she readied herself. “I don’t need someone fighting for me.”

No she did not. Tsuna shifted backwards, giving the girl her space. One thing he’d never forget, like Hayato’s cackling laughter and Takeshi’s Rain Flames, was how he’d witnessed Kyoko punch a hole in the wall once and walked away completely unfazed. 

She wasn’t as fragile as she let on. She reminded him of Nana, who played the fool to hide the cyanide in her blood. 

“I’m not fighting you,” Mochida argued, dropping his bokken. “I’m not. Step out of the way, Kyoko-chan.”

“If you won’t come for me,” Kyoko mused as she shifted, “then I guess I’ll make the first move.” She rushed him. Mochida scrambled out of the way as the shinai cut downwards, whistling from the pressure of her swing. Her foot pivoted and she twisted her body to follow after Mochida, swinging sideways like one would a baseball bat. 

Mochida braved the hit to the ribs, the air leaving his lungs as the shinai cracked. Pain exploded up and down his side as Kyoko dropped the bamboo sword. 

She was suddenly in his space, bending her knees as she shifted the center of her gravity down. With her left leg between Mochida’s and her right arm drawn back, she met eyes with him. 

“I told you I’d get upset,” she whispered and swung, her fist smashing into his stomach without pause. 

Mochida saw stars as he felt his stomach cave inward, saliva spitting past his lips as he snapped backwards. The gym was eerily still as he crashed onto his back, choking on his pain. He curled onto his side, hugging his stomach. 

Kyoko huffed and turned, dusting off her skirt. She raised her head and flashed a ‘victory’ sign to Hana, who smirked proudly. Takeshi and Hayato gawked at her while Tsuna clapped politely. 

“Anyone else want to tell me who I can and can’t be friends with?” Kyoko asked the stunned gym. No one made a noise. “Perfect! Now Tsuna-kun, let’s go eat lunch!” She skipped over to him, hands tugging instantly at him. He stumbled after, eyes wide and shining. 

Takeshi’s icy laughter echoed throughout the gym as he followed behind them, Hana and Hayato on their heels. 

Well damn. Reborn, laying flat on his stomach from the rooftop, looked up from his sniper scope. There went his chance to shoot Tsuna with the Dying Will Bullet. What the hell? No, seriously, what the actual legitimate hell? His reports hadn’t said anything about Sasagawa Kyoko or her sudden protectiveness to his student. His reports consisted of two friends for Tsuna: Gokudera and Yamamoto. 

Kyoko wasn’t in this equation and yet...and yet….

Damn . Reborn whistled lowly as he sat up, Leon changing back to his chameleon form. “She’s scary. She’d make a fierce Sun Guardians,” Reborn said to his partner. Leon smacked him on the cheek with a sticky tongue. “Too bad she won’t be Tsuna’s.”

Once he smartened up and realized there was no escaping his fate. Reborn exhaled at the thought, standing up. The kid was stubborn and determined, he’d give him that. It was a bit annoying, though, to fight with him over this. Tsuna was going to be Decimo. There was no one else who could do it. He was just prolonging his denial by trying to run away from reality. 

And his two guard dogs…

Reborn’s eyes narrowed at the thought of the two. They were pests. They’d back Tsuna up no matter his decision, content to follow him. Loyal to a fault. As long as those two were Tsuna’s impulse control, he’d never agree to being Decimo. Hayato and Takeshi were building a new path for him to escape that corner.

This really was going to be a lot of work.  

Kyouya kept his eyes closed as the rooftop door opened and closed quietly. A huff escaped Ryohei as he plopped down beside the sprawled teen, tilting his head back to soak up the sun’s rays.

“Kyoko got extremely scary this time around,” Ryohei spoke up into the serene peace of the silence. “She didn't get like this until after she had her first kid.”

Hibari grunted and continued to sunbathe. 

“Chrome texted me. They’ve made contact with that Ettore kid Hayato told us about. And met Lambo. His memories seem to be a bit jumbled and his behavior keeps bouncing.”

“Hn.” Hibari peeled his eyes open, squinting against the harsh lighting. “And?”

“Well, let’s hope that Mukuro can come to an agreement with this Ettore kid to be the eyes and ears while we work on our rebellion, yeah?” Ryohei stretched out. “Man, no matter how long I’ve remembered, it’s still weird being a teenager again.”

“Hn.” Hibari sat up and yawned, jaw cracking from the wide opening. “Puberty sucks.” 

“Yeah,” Ryohei laughed loudly, “it does.” He tossed a chilled box of milk to the Disciplinary Head before standing. “Once that man leaves, we can start preparing in earnest.”

“I’ll bite them to death,” Kyouya vowed after a moment, turning the little milk box in his hands. He nodded his head in thanks to the boxer and the teen gave a two-fingered salute. 

“You didn't mess up. Nothing we can’t cover up with extreme care. Your Clan’s name can turn a lot of eyes away without asking for a reason, after all.” Kyouya nodded in agreement. “I’ll talk with Hayato a bit more about what we can do.”

Kyouya grunted again. Ryohei didn't have to ask for clarification on what that grunt was for. Despite Kyouya still being respected as the Foundation Head, Hayato would forever be seen as the Right Hand, and thus any and all plans had to be run through with him. 

Ryohei left with another wave, leaving Kyouya to lay back down for another nap. Flapping wings had him peeking an eye open. Hibird fluttered down softly without even a chirp, nestling into his chest. He lifted a hand, his knuckles running along the yellow bird’s feathers. 

He finally felt whole again.

------

Iemitsu was in the kitchen when Tsuna came home from school. Nana was gone, a quickly scrawled note on the table reading, “Went shopping with Lambo-kun and Ettore-kun”. Reborn was nowhere in sight and both Hayato and Takeshi had bidded goodbye to go home. Their parents could only be so lenient when it came to their kids staying at the Sawada residence for the weekend nights. 

Tsuna tried not to stumble as he made his way into the kitchen, socked feet scuffing against the wooden floorboards. Iemitsu looked up from his beer can, eyes glinting at he tracked his son’s movements. 

“So I heard you think you can say no to being Decimo,” Iemitsu spoke, his voice bouncing off the kitchen walls. Tsuna paused in grabbing a glass from the cabinet, back turned to the man. “Tsunayoshi, you can’t say no.”

“I can, though,” Tsuna said quietly as he placed his glass down, changing directions to get the jug of juice from the refrigerator. “I’m not going to be a Mafia boss.” 

Iemitsu laughed, the sound grating and like glass shards in a blender. “You aren’t listening.” The man smacked a palm against the table, looking bemused. “Nana spoiled you. Look at you, thinking you can argue with me.” 

“Why couldn't I?” Tsuna’s tone was carefully blank as he poured the juice into his cup, trying to keep himself busy so he wouldn’t have to face the man. The tension in the air steadily climbed. 

“...I’m your father.” The mirth was breaking off, leaving a cold bitterness. “You have to show me some respect, Tsunayoshi.”

Bracing his hands on the countertop, Tsuna hunched his shoulders up as he breathed in. He whirled, his movements tensed. “ Father ?” The single word was snarled out. “I don’t know you. You aren’t my father. You're nothing but an intruder overstaying his welcome!”

Iemitsu slammed his fist down on the table. Tsuna flinched at the loud bang that echoed in the following silence. 

“Don’t,” the man hissed, “say that to me.” He pushed himself up from the table, gaze burning holes into Tsuna. The teen stood his ground, pressed up against the counter. Neither moved. 

Sultry anger clawed down Tsuna’s throat, choking him of anything to say in defense. This man acted like he could just waltz back into their lives without any consequences. This man acted like he hadn’t abandoned his wife for eleven years to suffer the judging stares of their neighbors and the harsh criticism of gossiping wives. 

Nana raised him by herself. She made up for the lack of a father-figure in the form of gentle love and lessons in kindness. She taught Tsuna to hold his cards close to his chest and only let his words hurt when he could strike with precision. She spent fourteen years making him the happiest kid in the entire neighborhood. 

This man had no right to come in, acting like he shared in any of those years. Over a decade of absence couldn’t be washed away by a flimsy excuse. Not when he’d spent the last fourteen fathering some other child. 

Some other child who apparently had only been conceived in the name of Vongola? What the actual hell. How could he say that to Ettore’s face? Was the child raised to know this, the fact so embedded into his brain by years of conditioning that he didn't see anything wrong with it?

Iemitsu expected Tsuna to be like Ettore - to bow down to his whims. 

Tsuna hadn’t been raised by him, however, and Nana didn't raise a pushover. She raised a child who would only fight when needed and knew when to pick his battles. He may be scared of confrontation but when it was warranted - 

When it was warranted, people needed to run . 

“What?” Tsuna’s tone was progressively growing more scathing, his hands shaking as he clenched them into fists. “Don’t like hearing the truth? Or were you expecting me to fawn at your feet like Ettore? Sorry to say, Iemitsu , but I’m not letting you decide my life for me.” 

Storm clouds brewed across Iemitsu’s forehead, darkening his glare. He strode across the kitchen in two wide steps, shoulders squared as he towered over Tsuna. 

“You need to learn some respect,” Iemitsu snarled low, eyes flickering an amber hue. 

“Why should I respect you?” Tsuna snapped back, his own eyes brightening as the raging fire inside him began to bleed out. “You’ve done nothing to earn it. You abandoned Mama, I’m pretty sure you’re responsible for this seal on me-” Iemitsu winced “-and that assassin that tried to kill me came from Vongola, right? Why would the Mafia that you guys supposedly are desperate for me to take over try to kill me?” 

“It’s complicated,” Iemitsu forced out, his nostrils flaring. He hadn’t expected Tsuna to be this hostile - the child had always been so meek as a toddler. Meek and easy to persuade. But now - 

Now the child acted like he would easily turn the entire world into his enemy. 

“Complicated?” How the child said that single word made Iemitsu’s stomach churn in humiliation. “Not really. It’s actually pretty simple.” Tsuna tilted his head to the side, the brown of his eyes receded as a rich orange flared up. “What’s complicated is the idea that you have children to use as tools.” 

Iemitsu recoiled, eyes widening. “What-”

“You said Ettore was born to lead that CEDEF thing.” Tsuna’s hands unclenched and clenched as his pupils shrunk into pin-pricks against the burning fire in his gaze. “So you conceived him for personal gain. Was I also born for the sole purpose of benefiting your Mafia?” 

“That’s not true!” Iemitsu blurted, fire flaring to life around his clenched fists. “Ettore-”

Tsuna took a step closer to the man and Iemitsu was ashamed to say he tried to put distance between them. “What, you sleep with whoever as a convenience to yourself-" 

SMACK.

The punch rang throughout the kitchen. Tsuna stumbled backwards into the counter, elbow catching on the refrigerator as he slumped down. His face was turned to the side, cheek stinging fiercely as blood trickled down his busted lip. He’d bitten his lip mid-sentence when Iemitsu’s fist had connected with his cheek. 

He slowly turned his head, eyes wide as he gawked at the adult. Iemitsu, himself, looked horrified with himself as he just stared at his son. 

“You-” blood bubbled up in his mouth and he gagged at the metallic taste “-you just punched me.” Shock settled in, numbing him and stealing his thoughts. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” Iemitsu blurted out. Tsuna pressed himself against the cabinets as the man reached for him. Iemitsu recoiled as if he were the one who’d been struck. “Tsunayoshi, I didn't mean to-!”

“Don’t-” His heart was deafening him as it hammered in his chest. His breathing was coming out erratic, wheezes more than proper inhales. “Don’t touch me!” His vision was spotting and his body shook. No longer out of anger, though, more out of hysteria. He was punched. The man who tried to call himself his father punched him. 

“Tsunayoshi…” Iemitsu shuffled backwards, looking unsure of what he should do with himself. “I-I’m so sorry. I...I know I haven’t been around a lot but...but I love you, son. You’re my precious Tuna-fish.” 

Tsuna forced himself to his feet, juice knocked over and a sticky puddle by his hand as he braced himself on the counter. He glared at Iemitsu, entire right side of his face throbbing like little pin-pricks of fire. 

“Well I already have a father.” Just to add insult to injury, Tsuna spat a wad of bloody saliva at the man’s feet. “And he sure as hell isn’t you.” 

He shoved himself off the counter, body nimble as he ducked away from Iemitsu and escaped out of the kitchen. 

Iemitsu didn't follow him. 

“What happened?!” Nana shrieked as Tsuna reluctantly turned his face to meet her eyes. A giant glaring bruise stretched across his right side, from chin to temple and small cuts riddled his cheekbone. His lip was busted, swollen and bruised. Iemitsu gawked from his place in the kitchen as well, alarmed by how much damage a single punch caused. 

Tsuna bruised like a peach. He’d accepted it. Nana knew it. His friends hated it. 

“I got into a fight,” Tsuna grumbled. He looked past Nana’s shoulder and a shudder ran down his spine as he met gazes with Ettore. There was a sense of wrongness about the teen, similar to how Reborn was to Tsuna. There was something off. Ettore’s eyes were sharp, narrowed and dangerous as he seemed to study Tsuna’s bruises. 

Reborn, himself, pulled the brim of his hat down. 

“A fight?” Nana worried, reaching a hand up. Tsuna couldn’t help the flinch that escaped when she gently cupped his cheek and her eyebrows pinched up. “I thought you weren’t bullied anymore.”

“This upperclassman,” Tsuna explained, “he wanted to fight me for Kyoko-chan.” 

“What?” Ettore asked, Lambo snuggled in his arms and snoring. Reborn’s lips pressed into a thin line at that before the man stalked his way over to settle down beside Iemitsu. 

Tsuna resolutely didn't follow Reborn’s movements, unable to look at the Sawada Man at the kitchen table. Call him  a coward but he knew better. 

“Kyoko-chan?” Nana echoed as she smoothed her thumb under his eye. “I’ve never heard you mention her.”

“We’ve been classmates since elementary,” Tsuna said as he leaned into his mother’s warm touch. “But we never really became friends until this morning. Mochida-senpai has this weird obsession with her and...well..didn't like that I was talking to her.” 

It was kinda pathetic he had to lie about how he got the bruises. But something in him stopped him from pointing the finger at Iemitsu. He couldn’t bear to put that kind of worry and stress on Nana, who’d no doubt blame herself if she thought, even for a second, that her husband was an abusive sack of crap. 

Mochida was just a convenient lie. Or white lie, since he really had been caught in a fight today. 

“You have a new friend?” Nana gasped, eyes sparkling. “Oh, that’s amazing Tsu-kun! We should - we should celebrate! Takesushi?” Her eyes were warm as she regarded her son. Tsuna flushed and nodded slowly. 

Nana loved to go to Takesushi and would take any excuse to dine there. Not just because of the food, either. Tsuna secretly thought she was the tiniest bit smitten for Tsuyoshi. Which Tsuna didn't mind at all. Tsuyoshi was his father figure, after all. 

“Sure,” Tsuna readily agreed. He loved seeing Tsuyoshi just as much as his mother did. “I owe Tsuyoshi some money anyways.” He never got to give him his ice cream, after all. 

“Go get changed, okay sweetie? We’ll leave here in a few minutes.” Nana turned Tsuna around, gently ushering him towards the stairs. Ettore followed, steps silent as the two ascended up to the bedrooms. 

Ettore followed Tsuna into his bedroom, movements quiet as he lowered the slumbering Lambo onto Tsuna’s bed. The bedroom door clicked shut silently and Tsuna turned his back to the older teen, rummaging through his closet for some clean clothes. He hadn’t changed out of his uniform yet, mind too caught up on the fact Iemitsu had fucking punched him. 

“What did you do today?” Tsuna asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it off and folding it up into a ball. It had small dots of blood on it around the collar, anyways. Might as well get a new one ready for the next day. 

Ettore's answer never came. Tsuna chanced a glance, seeing the Italian eyeing his scar from the assassination attempt. It was ugly and jagged, stretching along his hip and abdomen. Something in the teen's expression was almost haunted. 

“Sorry?” Ettore asked, eyes wide and innocent as Tsuna tugged on a bright pink sleeveless hoodie. He looked at Ettore over his shoulder, expression pinched.

“I’m asking what you did today?” Tsuna repeated himself as he shimmied out of his uniform pants. Ettore found his bedroom flooring fascinating, giving Tsuna some privacy as he pulled on a pair of khakis. 

“Lambo and I were supposed to take you your lunch but got distracted. We ended up missing your lunch time,” Ettore explained as he smoothed a hand through the child’s thick curls. “So, how did you really get that bruise?”

“What do you mean?” Now it was Tsuna’s turn to play innocent, trying to keep his hands from shaking. They were sweaty, his neck oddly flushed. 

Ettore’s expression was blank as he met Tsuna’s eyes. “Dad can have a bit of a temper.” Tsuna’s heart lurched. “Nothing physical unless it involves training. And he only ever has one trigger for his anger - Vongola. He won’t take no for an answer, you know.”

“So he’s going to beat me until I bend over backwards for some Mafia family?” 

Tsuna hadn’t meant to spit the words out but they dropped off his tongue and burned through the flooring like acid, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Ettore’s expression was one of resigned empathy, his gaze speaking layers of how much he understood and could relate. 

“Vongola has the type of power and influence to not need to rely on such barbaric tactics. Why beat you to a pulp when you’re mother’s financial stability could be ruined?”

Tsuna’s mind buzzed as static filled his ears.

“Why make you bleed when we could ruin Yamamoto’s father’s restaurant? Or target every single classmate you’ve even smiled at and make their lives a living hell?” Ettore’s eyes were so dead, haunted to the point of damned. “Someone in Vongola could leak that Nana-san is a civilian, which goes against the rules the CEDEF set up decades ago. Iemitsu jeopardized a lot just by having you.” 

“Are you threatening me?” Everything was deadly calm as Tsuna took a step. Then another. Then another until he was almost in Ettore’s face. “Are you threatening my mother ?” 

Because if there was one thing that Tsuna would never allow was for any harm to come to his mother. Which was one of his top reasons why he would never and could never be Mafia boss. His mother would be put into harm's way or worse - she could be left behind, to never know if her son was alive or dead-

Don’t think about that.

“I’m just trying to be honest with you, Tsunayoshi,” Ettore spoke softly, eyes crinkling up as his face crumpled into one of exhaustion and pain. “When someone isn’t raised into this lifestyle, it’s absolute hell. I’ve seen it countless times. You aren’t the first person to try and deny their fate and you won’t be the last.” He released a shaky sigh. “I just want you to get over your denial relatively easier. It’s never pretty.”

“I’m not in denial,” Tsuna snapped, voice falling into a hush when Lambo gave a snort. “I’m not going to be the next Vongola Don. It’s not a matter of denial - it’s a matter of fact. I’m not going to be a Mafia boss.” He tilted his head to the side. “I’m not.”

It was said so simply, so confidently. Tsuna really believed it - that he wasn’t going to be a Mafia boss. 

The denial was strong in this one. Ettore sighed and stepped away, raising his hands in surrender. Another argument for another time, then. 

“You...have a nice fashion sense,” Ettore said in way of breaking the tension. Tsuna frowned. 

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” He looked down at his outfit. “It looks fine. I’m comfortable.”

“Sure.” Ettore looked away from the bright pink top. “Sure.” Lambo laughed in his sleep.

Tsuyoshi nearly cut through his cutting board as the Sawada family bustled into Takesushi. Takeshi, collecting dishes, dropped them the moment he laid eyes on Tsuna. The sushi restaurant fell silent as customers turned to look at the owner’s son. 

Takeshi lunged over his pile of broken ceramics, hands outstretched to cup Tsuna’s face. Tsuna exhaled through his nose and stepped forward to meet his friend, bracing himself for the pain of being touched on tender skin.

“What happened?” Takeshi asked, voice tight and eyes narrowed darkly. Unlike with Nana, Tsuna didn't flinch as Takeshi’s cool hand touched his cheek. Instead, Tsuna sighed in relief and leaned his face into the touch, lips quirking up into a smile. 

“Tsu-kun got into a fight with some boy named Mochida,” Nana gushed as she leaned over the two boys to relay the events to Tsuyoshi. “Apparently he was defending his new friend’s honor!” She smiled sweetly as she waved at her friend. Tsuyoshi’s eyes stayed on Tsuna as he nodded in greeting. His eyes finally slid away to meet Iemitsu’s suspicious gaze. 

“You must be Nana-san’s husband,” Tsuyoshi said before he set his knife down. Wiping at his hands on his apron, he moved to the sink located by the sushi bar. “Please, sit wherever you’d like.” 

Takeshi's eyes tracked Iemitsu as the man bustled over to a large table. His hand was steady and warm against Tsuna's cheek, a complete contrast from the frost of his face. Reborn slid in beside Iemitsu, blocking him in. Ettore and Nana took the opposite seats, leaving Tsuna on the outside. 

"Tsuna." Takeshi's voice was nothing but a choke. His eyes moved to the bruise. Tsuna shuddered. His expression was like that day's when Tsuna woke up in the hospital after surviving almost being murdered. Takeshi wanted blood. Lots and lots of blood. " Tsuna ."

"I bruise like a peach," Tsuna tried to sooth as he idly wrapped his hand around the hand holding his cheek. "It looks worse than it is." 

"Come here," Tsuyoshi requested softly as he walked over with a dustpan and broom. He shoved the cleaning tools at Takeshi, eyes pointed, before guiding Tsuna towards the back of the restaurant. Into the attached kitchen they went and Tsuna was instructed to jump up onto the counter. 

"My boy would never let you get hurt," Tsuyoshi whispered as he rummaged through the cabinets and drawers, pulling out the needed items to make an ice-pack. "Especially at school. Nana knows this too. So it had to be when you weren't at school." 

"Uncle…" Tsuna kept himself still as Tsuyoshi pressed the make-shift ice pack against his face. The man's eyes were as sharp as the knives he handled. 

"You can trust me, Tsunayoshi. You're one of mine. I don't let mine get hurt." 

Tsuna sniffled and looked away, blinking back his tears. “It’s nothing. I mouthed off to him. Said things I shouldn’t have. We were both heated and in the moment.” 

“A parent should never hit their child, no matter what,” Tsuyoshi said sternly, moving to catch Tsuna’s gaze. “It doesn’t matter if you said anything, you’re not at fault. An adult should never stoop low enough to lay a hand against a child.” 

“Please don’t say anything,” Tsuna begged quietly, hand latching onto Tsuyoshi’s wrist. “Please. Not - not with Mama there. She doesn’t - she doesn’t need that stress.” 

“Tsunayoshi,” Tsuyoshi spoke softly, “I can’t keep this from her. Besides, she probably has an idea as to how you got that bruise.” He lowered the ice-pack. “Your mother will always put you above all else, kid. This is no different.”

“That’s exactly the point,” Tsuna stressed as his shoulders slumped. He looked down at his dangling feet, avoiding the man’s piercing gaze. “She’ll protect me without question. It’ll hurt her to think that Iemitsu could hit me. It’ll break her heart. She loves him.” 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Tsuyoshi ran a hand through those spiky brown locks with a heavy frown. “Nana is an adult and as an adult, she can make her own choices. I know she’s your mother but kid, let her choose what’s best for her and you. You can’t hide this from her.” 

Tsuna looked at him in utter defeat. “Can we wait?” It was so softly spoken, the man almost missed it. “Until he leaves? He flies back to Italy tomorrow.”

He was only in Japan for two days? Tsuyoshi’s blood boiled at the thought. That was barely any time to see his son - his wife - the lives they lived. He exhaled loudly through his nose and helped Tsuna off the counter, patting his head gently. 

“Fine. But she will be told,” he conceded. Tsuna nodded gratefully and walked towards the kitchen exit. Takeshi stepped in, dust-pan in hand. He tossed the trash away, sticking to Tsuna’s side in an instant. His eyes promised destruction.

“I’m going to join you guys for dinner, okay?” Takeshi had his arm around Tsuna’s shoulder in an instant, guiding him to the table. “Pops will understand, won’t you?”

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Tsuyoshi warned as he followed back to the sushi prepping bar. “I mean it, Takeshi. I’ll be counting the knives.” His son sent him an unimpressed look before smiling icily to the table.

“Hi again,” Takeshi greeted as Lambo, having just woken from his nap, looked up at them. The child’s eyes went to Tsuna’s bruised face and his mouth fell open. Before he could say anything, Reborn leaned forward.

“Are you joining us?” The hitman watched how Takeshi positioned himself between Tsuna and the rest of the table, humming a cheery tune. “Can you do that instead of working?” 

“Yeah,” Takeshi laughed, arm still around Tsuna’s shoulder. “So what’s the occasion to come eat?”

“Tsu-kun made friends with a girl named Kyoko!” Nana chirped, clapping her hands. Lambo, perched in her lap, continued to stare wordlessly at Tsuna’s face. The teen in question squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable with the blank stare. 

“Oh.” Takeshi’s expression blanked. “Yeah. Her.”

“Jealous?’ Nana teased innocently. Takeshi’s responding smile was sharp. 

“You know it, Mama,” Takeshi laughed. He leaned forward, eyes on Iemitsu. “You should try the fugu sushi.” 

The man squinted at Takeshi. “Fugu fish is highly poisonous.”

“Is it?” Takeshi asked nonchalantly, shrugging. “Who knows?” His fingers reached up to smooth along the bruise lining Tsuna’s face, fingertips blue. Iemitsu and Ettore jolted at the blatant use of Rain Flames. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Tsuna mumbled as he leaned into Takeshi’s side. “Play nice.”

“Always,” Takeshi lied and without a care in the world, pressed a kiss to the top of the brunette’s head. Nana smiled sweetly while Reborn’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Lambo wants a kiss!” Lambo cried out, practically crawling onto the table to get towards the two at the end of the booth. “Take-baka is mean!”

“How am I mean?” Takeshi answered as he scooped Lambo off the table, holding him high. “Tsuna’s my best friend!”

“Nuh-uh! Haru is!” Lambo argued and then the child’s face crumpled. Takeshi’s smile froze on his face before he lowered Lambo to his lap. 

“Yeah,” Takeshi whispered as he smoothed a hand through the large afro, “she was, huh?” 

“Still is,” Lambo argued further, voice a weak whisper. “If you let her.” His eyes were too old for his body, soul conflicting and waging a war in itself. Reborn cleared his throat and the two snapped out of their moment. Lambo’s eyes glazed back over into childish endearment and he wiggled to get to Tsuna’s lap. 

Tsuyoshi chose this moment to set down a platter of sushi in the middle of the table, startling the occupants.

“On the house,” the man gruffed and met eyes with Iemitsu. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Sawada-san.” He gave an unimpressed once-over of the man. “You sure do exceed expectations.” 

“Tsuyoshi,” Nana warned faintly. The man held up his hands as Iemitsu’s eyes narrowed. 

“Thank you for being a friend to my wife and for watching out for my son,” Iemitsu gritted out. Ettore occupied himself with Reborn, the older man pointing out the different nigiri pieces to the teen in a hushed tone. 

“Of course. The boy needs a positive father figure in his life.” The tension in the air was palpable. “He shines bright, Sawada-san. We can’t have him dulling further than he already does, right?” 

Iemitsu’s expression went guarded as Nana joined in on showing Ettore how to use chopsticks. Tsuna slid down in his seat, Lambo blissfully ignorant to the two men trying to dominate each other in terms of position and power. Takeshi just watched, amused.   

“Namimori is a very special place, Sawada-san. You may not know this, but a lot can change in eleven years. It’s been eleven since you’ve visited, hasn’t it?” Tsuyoshi made a show of looking thoughtful. “Yes, a lot can change. You might was to brush up on the customs and laws if Namimori. You’d be surprised what you might find.” 

Confusion melted into Iemitsu’s expression as Tsuyoshi turned away. He shuffled back to the sushi bar, leaving the family table in an awkward silence. 

“So it’s raw fish?” Ettore winced at how loud his voice suddenly sounded without the second conversation going. “Um.”

“It’s good.” Takeshi moved to show the foreigner how to hold the sushi. “You can use your fingers. Sushi is a finger food. Here, this is how you dip it.” Ettore watched his movements with rapt attention as Reborn began to load up a plate for Nana and himself. Lambo shoved handfuls of the sticky rice into his mouth, passing off the raw slices of fish to Tsuna.

Iemitsu sat there, expression hard and the lines of his face more prominent. Nana bumped her shoulder against his side and he looked down at her. 

“This is your last night with me,” she said softly, her hand sliding down to pat his knee. He winced as her nails dug into his knee. “Don’t waste it with losing yourself in your thoughts.” Iemitsu nodded rapidly and she retracted her hand. He rubbed at his leg, wondering not for the first time if he was a horrible husband. 

StabbyMcStabStab: Can we skip to Plan B?

ChocolateAngel: Yes can we please?

PineapplePizza: I’ve got the perfect coverup

Hayabean : what the fuck??

StabbyMcStabStab : image.attachment_jpeg

Hayabean : WHAT THE FUCK??? 

ProteinShake : Bring him over after dinner

Hibirdie has changed his status to unavailable

ProteinShake : oh shit

“Lavina-san!” Nana chirped as Hayato all but slammed the restaurant door open, his mother behind him. Hayato made a beeline for Tsuna, nostrils flaring. Lavina followed at a more controlled pace, smile tight as she caught sight of Tsuna’s face.

“Hi! Hayato wanted to come get some sushi,” Lavina said, her eyes moving from Tsuna to Nana. Her eyes bounced to Ettore, Iemitsu, and paused on Reborn. “Oh, hello Iemitsu, Reborn.” 

“You know each other?” Nana asked as she moved to make room for the two new additions. Hayato pressed against Tsuna’s side, fingertips yellow as he brushed against the bruise. Nana didn't make a comment on the strange lights and Iemitsu exhaled softly in relief. 

“Hayato worked with Ettore in Italy,” Lavina explained simply. “So I’ve met your husband a few times. I didn't make the connection until now that your husband and Iemitsu were the same person.” She gave a fake laugh. “How you described him was different.” 

Iemitsu winced. 

“Oh,” Nana said, voice falling a bit flat. “Well, please, join us! Hayato-kun, Tsu-kun was telling us about how he made a new friend and how he got that bruise fighting off a bully!”

“Oh yes,” Hayato smiled thinly, eyes burning as he glanced at Iemitsu, “he was a bully alright.” The addressed man narrowed his eyes into a glare. These children had no respect for elders or people of higher position. Hayato never talked to him like this before - he wondered just what made the teen change his tune. 

“Lavina-san, you look well,” Ettore greeted, popping another nigiri piece into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor. Sushi was becoming a fast favorite of his. “How is your husband?”

“Good,” Lavina sighed as she touched her cheek, “but he’s getting exhausted from Bianchi. I may have her fly out.” With a look to Reborn, she added slyly, “Knowing her crush is here might motivate her to get over her recent heartbreak.”

“Uhg,” Hayato blanched and dropped his hand to Tsuna’s lap, holding his free hand, “please don’t mention that bastard.”

“Another broken heart?” Reborn asked conversationally, sushi piece disappearing off his plate in a second. “She’s a maneater, she is.”

“She’s a romanticist, poor dear,” Lavina corrected. Tsuyoshi came over, carrying two waters with him. 

“Hey Pops,” Takeshi greeted as he glimpsed at his phone screen, “a Hibari is going to be visiting.” Those around the table tensed at the mention and a table even shot up quickly.

“Which one?” Tsuyoshi asked warily as he set the waters in front of the Gokudera pair.

“The younger one,” Hayato and Takeshi answered him just as the door caved inwards. Iemitsu and Ettore were on their feet while Nana just sipped her tea. Reborn placed more sushi on her plate and settled back to watch the show. Tsuna turned in his chair, eyes wide at the sight of the Disciplinary Head. 

Hibari Kyouya stood in the doorway, tonfas brandished and eyes zeroed in on the table. His eyes moved to Tsuna before he gave a low growl. 

“Sawada Iemitsu-” his eyes fleeted to Nana for a moment- “step outside.” He jerked his chin towards the exit. “Now.”

“Who are you?” Iemitsu demanded, hands curled into fists. “Listen-”

“Territorial Law, Rule 587, Section 15, Line 123 - ‘All members of any Family must be given permission by a Hibari Clan member to enter and reside in Namimori, Japan. Any and all avoidance to proper introductions will result in the banishment of the member from Namimori and Kokuyo and can result in permanent exile of Japan’.” The restaurant was silent. “Where’s your paperwork, Herbivore?”

“Should I even ask?” Tsuna asked his two friends. They shook their heads and Lambo shoved another ball of ride into his mouth. Iemitsu casted worried and panicked looks to his wife but found her blissfully oblivious to everything as she chatted with Reborn. 

“I’ve never heard of this Law,” Iemitsu sputtered, expression darkening as he made his way towards the teen. “Since when has the Hibari Clan held any sort of power-”

“Dad.” Ettore was at his side in an instant, gently touching his elbow. “Let’s go outside and discuss this like adults.” He smiled tensely to Kyouya. The teen eyed him for a moment before he nodded and turned on his heel. 

Iemitsu sputtered again as his son led him out. Lavina sipped on her water, humming to herself as Tsuyoshi just sighed.

“So, Reborn says he’s going to be staying here with Ettore-kun while Iemitsu goes back to Italy,” Nana said, ignoring the crashing of metal filtering in from outside. “Tsu-kun, you don’t mind sharing your room with Ettore-kun, do you?”

“I don’t mind but what about when we have Movie Nights?” Tsuna asked as he popped a uni nigiri into his mouth. 

“He can join us,” Takeshi laughed as he inspected the shrunken bruise. Hayato’s Sun flames had healed it pretty well. “The more the merrier! I feel like we’ve got a lot of anime movies to introduce him to!”

“I like anime movies,” Reborn spoke up as he leaned his elbow on the table. “We can watch them together.”

“Oh my god, no,” Tsuna blurted out without thought. The table went silent as he stared wide-eyed at the fedora wearing man. “Uh, I mean, I don’t think you’d like them.”

Takeshi and Hayato tried to stop their laughter from bubbling up as Reborn raised an eyebrow. “What kind of anime movies do you watch? Hentai?”

Nana squawked as Tsuna’s entire face burst into a violent blush. Takeshi choked on his spit while Tsuyoshi coughed harshly. 

“NO! We watch girly stuff!” Tsuna’s arms flailed. “Magical Girl anime and rom-coms and-and-NOT THAT!” He sunk down hard, nearly falling under the table. “You’re a pervert!”

“You’re the one being all weird,” Reborn shot back with a smirk, eyes glinting. “Little Tsuna acting like it’s a dirty secret to watch Sailor Moon.”

“Moooom!” Tsuna whined as Nana fanned her face, giggles escaping her like tinkling bells. 

“Let Reborn join your Movie Nights. He’s going to be your tutor, after all.” Tsuna frowned at her and looked down at his plate, all mirth leaving him. Nana’s smile faltered for a moment before she huffed. “Besides, Lambo-kun will be staying with us too so we have to be careful about what we watch now.” 

“Bummer,” Hayato muttered dryly. Lavina pinched his arm. Ettore shuffled back into the restaurant, a bruised Iemitsu following behind him. The two took their seats, quiet and stiff as Reborn handed Nana more sushi. 

“So,” Tsuyoshi asked as he ruffled Tsuna’s hair, “who wants dessert?”

Chapter Text

Nana was twenty-four when she met Iemitsu’s boss. She’d welcomed the elderly man into their home, smile in place and words bitten back as he interacted with her child. Her beautiful, sweet-hearted child. 

Her child who loved to sing when he helped her wash dishes and always demanded a picture-book for bath time and could color the rainbow in the correct order. Her child who smiled like the endless sky, his eyes bright and heart brighter. Her sweet, smart, one-of-a-kind child. 

Nana was twenty-four when she cradled her child in her arms, the man and Iemitsu saying they had to leave early. Tsuna’s body was cold, unbelievably cold, and she knew without any proof, that something had been done to her child. She hugged him tight, her hackles rising as Iemitsu laughed it off like the entire thing was a joke. 

Laughed at her child’s sudden incoordination and clumsiness and dazed behavior like it was the biggest joke of the universe. 

Nana was twenty-four when she sat Tsuna down, kissed his forehead, and asked if he wanted to stay with her just one more year before going to school. 

(She would keep him close, teach him how to weave his words into innocent little requests instead of demands they could be, and she hoped to see those tiny embers of her child again.) 

Nana was twenty-six when deja vu hit her, cradling her child as an ambulance wailed in the background. Blood was leaking sluggishly from the wound in his head and her entire arm was soaked in the red liquid. She trembled, cold to the bone, as she hugged him tighter. She nearly threw punches at the EMTs as they tried to extract her child from her arms. 

She was twenty-six when her child opened his eyes two weeks later, startling her with his sudden break of his coma. He stared at her for a long time, eyes wide and color paling like he’d seen a ghost. And then he was wailing and scrambling for her and she was hugging him to her chest. 

She was twenty-six when Tsuna’s tastes changed. His favorite color was sudden different, what he liked to watch and read was the complete opposite, and he tried so hard to act like he was everything he’d hated. 

(The doctor said that head injuries could cause personality changes. Nana knew better. She saw how he forced everything, how everything came with a hesitance. She’d taught him how to act, after all, so how couldn’t she see it every single second he lied to her face?)

Nana was thirty-three when she received a call that her child was in the hospital. To this day, she could not tell you how she got to the hospital. All she knew was she came to herself  beside his bedside, her hands gripping his. 

He was unconscious, bandages wrapped around his stomach and a breathing tube making him look so tiny and fragile. 

Shot. He’d been shot .  Her eyes traveled from her medically coma-induced child to Takeshi, still wearing blood-soaked clothes that’d no doubt dried to the point of uncomfortable. She stared at him, her expression hardening as dead brown met hers.

“Tell me,” she demanded. 

(Takeshi didn't hold back. She sat there in silence the entire time, head bowed as she mentally cursed herself for her stupidity. Once he was finished, she gathered her second child into her arms and hugged him tightly. He sat there, frozen as if not expecting the hug, before his arms hesitantly returned the gesture. 

“Thank you,” she sobbed into his hair as she squeezed him tight, hoping that her strength could protect him. “Thank you so much.”)

(She didn't ask about this future he came from. She didn't dare voice her concerns and curiosities over how her child was as an adult. Not when she saw how empty and haunted Takeshi looked, like it physically pained him to recount old memories of a lifetime ago. She just hugged him as tight as she could and hoped, from the bottom of her heart, that maybe this could heal him the slightest bit.)

(Iemitsu was a fool. For all he was ensnared in the Mafia and the Underworld and all those dark situations, he forgot that Nana was a Namimori born citizen. She was born and raised in the city. She was raised on the streets ruled by the Hibari Clan, knew of how the city was known as a Sanctuary. 

Foreigners seemed to forget that about her, it seemed. That she was not just some simple house-wife. She was a woman who’d played with the current Clan heads during her childhood. She had connections. She had knowledge. 

More than anything, she had patience.)

“You don’t want to join us to see Iemitsu leave?” Nana asked again for the millionth time. Tsuna looked up from his manga, eyes dead. 

“Nope,” Tsuna said without any hesitance. Nana wavered in his doorway, frown not as upset as he thought. She exhaled and moved to sit at the foot of his bed, fidgeting with her hands. It was dark out, dusk nowhere in sight. He wondered why the man had to leave in the literal middle of the night but didn't voice just an irony. He didn't want to hurt Nana with his callous words. 

“He hurt you, didn't he?” Tsuna’s shoulders hunched up to his ears as he avoided Nana’s gaze. She took his silence as answer enough and he saw her hands curling into fists against her lap. “Was this the only time?”

“It was an accident,” Tsuna mumbled. “I instigated him. You know, ran my mouth. We were both angry and in the moment.”

“That’s no excuse,” Nana snapped. Her words were cold and cut through the warmth in his core and he curled tighter into a call. “He should have never done it in the first place. I - I know he likes to believe things are alright but Tsu-kun…” She moved to face him. “You’re always my first priority.”

“I shouldn’t be,” Tsuna whispered as he lowered his manga down to his lap. “Your happiness should be you main concern.”

Nana sucked in a breath, looking like she’d been the one punched. Her hands flew to her mouth before she gave a wet laugh. Obviously trying to comfort him. “Baby, you are my happiness. If you’re happy and healthy and safe, then I am too.” She scooted closer to him and drew him into a hug. 

“You love him,” Tsuna whispered against her shoulder as he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. Nana squeezed him tight. 

“There are many types of love,” Nana confessed as she closed her eyes, “and sometimes it’s better to let go of certain ones so you don’t end up hurt. Maybe…” Tears made her eyes itchy. “Maybe we don’t work out married.” 

“Mom!” Tsuna withdrew with wide eyes. “You can’t just - this isn’t - I’m fine!” 

“No.” Nana cupped his cheek. His bruise had shrunk in the span of their dinner. She had Hayato to thank for the healing wound - his sunny colors flames did it, didn't they? Iemitsu must have thought her an idiot to not notice the flames and the craziness of Namimori. But she’d promised Takeshi she’d play the oblivious fool. She owed him that much for saving her child. For telling her all his secrets. “You aren’t. You haven’t been fine since you were four years old and Iemitsu’s boss came to visit.”

She could see the confusion on her child’s face, see the twisted emotions of helplessness and lost. He probably didn't remember. Didn't remember her cradling him in her arms, feeling like something in him shifted. Like something in his slipped between her fingers like grains of sand, forever lost and never to be the same. 

“You haven’t been fine since you were six years old.” She watched her child recoil. His eyes were guarded immediately and she knew, without having to voice it, that he remembered that. Remembered that fateful day that broke her child worse than the day he was four and his soul was shattered into tiny little pieces. 

“M-mom,” her breathtakingly beautiful child stuttered and he sounded so scared. Her chest ached. How could she take that fear and banish it when she had no clue how to help? How could she dispel any and all fears he had, make him believe everything was alright in the world? 

“You haven’t been alright since last summer, when you were attacked,” she choked out. Tsuna’s entire face crumbled and he hunched into himself, habit developed to protect his stomach after the assassination attempt. Because that’s what it’d been. Iemitsu had dragged innocent children into this disgusting trade and expected everyone to be alright with it. 

“Mom.” Tsuna’s voice cracked. “I’m fine. I’m fine, serious.” His expression spoke volumes in betrayal of his words though. 

Nana shook her head and cupped his cheeks again, gentle as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Ettore-kun and Lambo-kun are coming with me to see Iemitsu off. If you need anything, call me.” She knew she couldn’t push this conversation any more. He was closing in on himself. She’d gotten as far as she could. 

Tsuna hugged her before he let her leave the bedroom. He laid back down, eyes burning and itching uncomfortably as he stared at his ceiling. His hands curled into fists, staying that way well after he heard the front door close with an echoing click of the lock. 

A knock came at his door and Reborn opened it, leaning against the doorframe. “You didn't want to see your old man off?” Despite his question, his voice wasn’t all that concerned or curious. 

“You didn't either?” Tsuna asked as he rolled onto his side, eyes exhausted as the man stepped into his room without invitation. Reborn stepped over the strewn clothes and scattered papers, eyes disgusted as he kicked an abandoned book out of his path. 

“If I did, I’d surely kill him,” Reborn replied honestly as he sat down by Tsuna’s elbows, the brim of his hat making his features ominous. Tsuna couldn’t find the energy to move, to question why the man was acting like he owned the house, and instead wiggled to give him more room. 

“Why? Shouldn’t this be normal for Mafia people?” Tsuna didn't have to gesture to his shrunken bruise to make his point. He watched with interest as various emotions flickered through Reborn’s face before he could properly taper them off: disgust, anger, guilt, remorse, regret, and finally amusement. 

“No. Only cowards hurt their own,” Reborn said. His tone was soft, reminiscent, and his hand lifted in a faint outline of yellow. “Your doggie did a decent job. May I?” 

Tsuna nodded and Reborn pressed his palm against Tsuna’s face, fingers splaying over his ear and into his hair. Tsuna laid still, internally alarmed by how gentle and warm the hand was. He was expecting the hitman’s touch to be ice cold and callous,  rough and uncaring if he jarred the sore bruise. Instead, he felt his body relax as those yellow flames began to fan along his cheek. 

“Why don’t I get a choice?” Tsuna stubbornly kept his eyes trained on the opposite wall, not looking up at Reborn or becoming distracted by the yellow glow in his peripheral. 

“It doesn’t work that way,” Reborn explained softly - patiently. He frowned as the teen’s flesh began to smooth out, the blemish shrinking until the ugly purple receded into a faint green. “You’re the last resort and there is no one else. Vongola is too old and too powerful to be finished because of a reluctant child wanting to be in denial.”

“Is it though?” Tsuna’s voice was faint. Reborn removed his hand, eyes looking for any damage. Seeing none, he rested his hand on his lap. He waited for Tsuna to speak. They hadn’t gotten off on the right foot but he was trying. 

“What do you mean? Speak your thoughts clearly. It’s unbecoming of a Mafia Boss to mumble,” Reborn chided as he shifted to face the teen fuller. Tsuna’s eyes finally lifted from his wall and met the dark onyx. 

“I’m not going to be a Mafia Boss.” Fire flared just beneath the surface of that murky brown and Reborn’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what you think, what that man thinks, or what his boss thinks - I’m not going to be a Mafia Boss and I’m not going to take over Vongola.” The fire was tiny, little embers where they should be infernos. Without thinking, Reborn’s hand pressed against Tsuna’s chest, his flames sinking in to brush for the brilliant Sky he knew was buried under layers of ice and metal. 

Tsuna’s eyes went completely orange, a familiar and breathtaking hue as his hand clamped down on Reborn’s wrist and burned . Reborn tore his arm from his grip, Flames already working to heal the seared skin. Tsuna pushed himself up, scooting back until he hit the headboard. Neither spoke. 

“Don’t do that,” Tsuna finally spat out, hands trembling as he clenched them into his covers. “Don’t put those Flames into me like that.”

“How-” Reborn clamped his mouth shut before he stood. “You can’t give me orders.” 

“Like hell I can’t!” Tsuna tossed one of his pillows and it thumped against Reborn’s chest without any impact. The man stared down at the teenage, disbelieving his tone and choice of words. Tsuna bared his teeth at the hitman like a cornered animal. “I’m not going to make this easy for you, Reborn. Don’t think you can waltz in here, expecting everything to be as easy as all fuck. I’m not going down without a fight.” 

“Nana raised a smart mouth,” Reborn grouched. Tsuna launched another pillow at him. Reborn caught it midair and tossed it back, nailing the teen in the face. He rocked back, skull clanking against the wood of his headboard. “Respect your elders, kid. You’re going to end up in bad situations if you keep running your mouth.”

Tsuna rubbed at his head, glare intense as Reborn left his room. He exhaled, dropping his hands into his lab. He could hear Reborn downstairs, walking the length of the kitchen. Pacing. He was pacing. Tsuna strained his hearing, tracking the man’s heavy but fleeting footsteps. 

His body felt oddly cold, longing for Reborn’s soothing Flames. He shuddered and hunched forwards, arms wrapping around his stomach protectively as his throat closed up. He felt the phantom touches, through his hair, down his cheek, along his chest. Felt those phantom touches sink into his heart and tug, each jerk harsh and painful and constricting. 

"You saved me. It's my turn to save you."

He couldn’t stay here.

He tore his blankets off and scrambled off the bed, grabbing his tennis shoes from his closet. He rushed to his window, heart beating harshly in his chest. He heard Reborn’s footsteps pause, stop entirely, and silence. The floorboards under him creaked as he knelt on his windowsill, the glass sliding up with an unnecessarily loud screech. 

Footsteps thundered up the stairs and panic overtook Tsuna. He tossed his shoes out the window just as the bedroom door slammed open. 

“Tsunayoshi-”

Tsuna threw himself out the window, Reborn’s hand clamping down on air just seconds too late. Tsuna tumbled through the tree’s thick branches and leaves, crashing onto his back with a breathless wheeze in the thick bushes under his window. 

Reborn leaned out the window, his eyes wide in the early morning’s darkness.

“Don’t move!” Reborn demanded and his upper body disappeared back into his room. Pain raced up and down Tsuna’s entire body as he struggled to his feet. He had to leave. He couldn’t stay. Not right now. Now after what Reborn just did. 

He could feel those embers flaring up, twisting and igniting in glee and anticipation. They were calling to Reborn, to his Flames, and Tsuna felt trapped. Unable to breathe, unable to make a cohesive thought, he forwent his abandoned shoes and shot out of the backyard. The gate clanged loudly in the dusk air as Reborn yelled his name. 

His chest was tight, air impossible to grasp as his bare feet slapped against the pavement. He ran blindly, instincts taking over. He could feel the residual warmth in his chest, trying to expand and linger for as long as humanly possible. His body felt cold, empty, lost without the familiar but unfamiliar brush of Sun flames. Reborn’s flames, protective and warm and gentle and encompassing. 

“Ciaossu~! I’m Reborn!”

He turned a corner and crashed into something solid and warm. Arms wrapped around his shoulders and he was forced against a solid chest. One hand around his shoulders and the other gently carding through his hair, he gasped for breath as he pushed and shoved at the stranger. 

Blue and red met wild brown and the teen, maybe the same age as Ryohei, smiled coldly. 

“Shh,” the teen hushed and pushed Tsuna’s face to his chest again. He shuddered, hands coming up to claw at the teen’s sweat-shirt. He felt wrong . Like Ettore felt just last night. Wrong and weird and cold but not at the same time. He shivered as the world around them twisted and bent and blinked out. 

He was suddenly standing in a living room, the layout distantly familiar. The layout and walls were just like Hayato’s apartment and, with a panicked peek out the open window, saw it was the same complex. 

“Mukuro-sama?” A soft voice called from behind them and the arms around him left. He stumbled and fell backwards, his legs giving out. He fisted a hand in his own shirt, eyes rushing across the living room and the two occupants.

The voice who spoke, a pretty girl with long purple hair, looked at him in alarm before her face softened. She slowly slipped further into the living room, kneeling down in front of him. 

“Can you name me five things you see?” The girl gently asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Tsuna’s eyes locked onto her moving hand, memorized by the fluidity of her movements. His eyes caught sight of the simple silver bands along her left ring and pinky fingers, just below the joints.

“You-your rings,” Tsuna stuttered out, breathing too raspy and wheezy in his own ears. He curled his arms around his stomach, hands pressing into the scar of his bullet wound. The girl’s eyes flickered to his hands before she nodded encouragingly. 

“Y-your hair. The-the coffee table.” Tsuna’s vision swam as he sniffled. “Your-your owl shirt.” It was a cute little graphic, clearly handmade by the peeling graphic and faded colors of cheap dye. “You-your eyes.” He focused on her and she smiled, moving to sit cross-legged in front of him. 

“Name me four things you can touch,” she requested in a whisper. The other teen moved to sit behind her, his bent legs acting as a cage for her. She smiled encouragingly to him. “You can do it.”

“The-the rug.” Tsuna’s hands fisted into the shag material, the color a gaudy lime green. Who thought this was a good color for their apartment? “M-my shirt.” His other hand went to touch his scarred side. “My hair.” His hand moved to tug at the base of his neck, touching those soft baby-curls. “My-my skin.” His hand slid down to his neck, where he could feel his pulse jack-hammering against his cold fingers. 

He exhaled and the blurriness of his vision lessened and his trembles subsided just the tiniest bit. The girl watched him, waiting to see if she needed to continue. He still sat there and shook like a wet dog as he sniffled.

“Thank you,” he rasped out and she nodded and held her hands out. Without really thinking about it, he took them in hers and laced their fingers together. 

He didn't know why he suddenly found himself sobbing. Maybe it was her warm touch or gentle voice or kind smile. Maybe it was because the air around her was soothing and open and so much like his mother’s. Maybe it was something in the back of his mind, humming and purring and so content that he was overwhelmed. 

The other teen, the one who felt wrong and scary and cold, reached a hand out and slowly drew Tsuna closer, pressing him against the girl as he hugged the two of them. Tsuna clung to the two strangers, his chest blossoming as little flares of indigo flames sprinkled the blackness of his mind. Oh. Oh . 

“You’re okay,” the girl whispered against his shoulder as she clung to him tight, the other teen’s legs stretching out as he made the two lean back against his chest. “You’re safe. You can let go. We’ll protect you.” 

He hated it. He hated how his soul seemed to crave Reborn’s flames. Hated how his entire body ached , small little pangs that gradually increased in intensity the longer he thought and got stuck on Reborn’s flames. Hated how he felt those longing itches raise back up as he clung to these two strange teenagers, their Flames unlike the ones Hayato and Takeshi summoned. 

He came back to himself moments later, breathing ragged and hands probably bruising the girl’s back. He released her shirt, flushing at how he’d clung to her. He didn't know her. He didn't know either of them. 

Yet somehow they knew what he needed and had whisked him off the streets without the slightest hesitation. 

“Better?” The boy asked and Tsuna nodded, eyes training on that ugly lime green rug. Warm hands touched his cheeks and he looked up to meet purple. 

“Hello,” the girl smiled and Tsuna felt like all of his worries were melting away, falling away like mist along the morning grass, “I’m Chrome. This is Mukuro-sama. We’re friends of Gokudera Hayato-kun.”

Tsuna blinked, leaning back. “You’re friends with Hayato?” He sat there for a moment. It made a bit of sense. They were in the same apartment complex. They could be neighbors. Hayato never talked about the other people living in the complex so Tsuna never gave them much thought. 

“Yeah,” Mukuro spoke as he stood, bones creaking from the stiffness. “Your little puppy should be awake if you want him to come over?” He held up his cellphone, shaking it for emphasis. Tsuna stared. He had their numbers? They texted? 

His hands clenched into fists. Why did his stomach clench like he’d eaten something bad, thinking of Hayato and Takeshi having secret friends? It felt ugly and bitter, like churning stomach acid. He ducked his head and gave a single nod. 

“What were you doing running around barefoot?” Chrome asked in that soft voice, hands touching his ankles. He jolted, watching almost in a daze as her hands grazed down his feet. They were red and, now that he had the time to pause, hurt. They hurt horribly. He saw specks of blood and slowly moved to look at his underfoot. Pebbles and pieces of glass were embedded into the soles and heels of his feet, caked in dirt. 

He flushed. He’d tracked dirt and blood into their apartment. Ruined their ugly rug. Cried on them like some huge baby. He scuttled away from Chrome, entire body burning in shame and embarrassment. 

“Mukuro-sama, call for Sun too,” Chrome said as she looked over her shoulder at her partner. Mukuro, texting, nodded once without looking away from his device. 

Tsuna heard pounding footsteps running down the hall outside and then the front door was being slammed open. 

“KNOCK!” A voice roared from the kitchen and Tsuna’s head snapped to the area with a crack. Two strangers were standing in the small kitchen, their presence having been completely hidden the entire time Tsuna was there.

“Fuck you Fangs!” Hayato snarled and all but kicked his slippers off, scrambling his way over to Tsuna. “Tsuna-sama, are you okay? Where are your shoes? Why are you crying? Mukuro said you had an attack?” 

Tsuna blinked, finding himself smothered against his best friend. He clung to Hayato, breathing in the scent of cigarettes and citrus. Hayato all but hauled him into his lap, sitting cross-legged on the floor as he began to survey the injuries.

“I- um - I had to leave. Reborn - it was - um -” Tsuna didn't know how to articulate it well. His worries, his panic, his deep longing. He touched his chest with a heavy frown and Hayato stilled in gently brushing his fingers over Tsuna’s feet. “It hurt here and I couldn’t stay there.”

“Hurt how?” Mukuro asked as he plopped back down onto the ground, legs stretching out to bump his toes against Hayato’s shins. Tsuna shifted to rest his shoulder against the bomber’s chest and frown. 

“Like - like something in me was reaching for Reborn’s flames.” His fingers dug into the material of his shirt. “Like something deep inside me was - was-”

“Calling out to him?” Hayato whispered softly as he used his own hand to loosen Tsuna’s white-knuckled grip to his front. Tsuna nodded vigorously.

Hayato exhaled deeply and nuzzled his nose into Tsuna’s hair, eyes closing in thought. 

“Maybe I should use my Flames to destroy that seal,” he mused aloud. Chrome tilted her head to the side, frown morphing her soft features into something serious. 

“Do you think that’s a good idea? Tsunayoshi… People will come for him if his Flames are known.” She ran her hands over her hair, tugging insistently at the long locks. “Especially right now, when he’s trying to distance himself from Vongola.”

Tsuna blinked heavily at the two. Turned his gaze to Hayato. Looked down at his lap. 

“Who are you two?” Tsuna’s eyes felt heavy. He wanted to sleep. Close his eyes and-

“I’m so sorry, Tsunayoshi.”

-sleep for a hundred years. He made himself more comfortable against Hayato, breathing light. 

“We’re friends,” Chrome said resolutely, her eyes showing no lies. Tsuna stared at her. He knew they were friends. Knew it the moment Mukuro grabbed him off the streets. There was no trickery in their movements, in their words. But hearing it clicked something into place and his chest tightened in a bitter-sweet way. “We’re going to protect you and make sure you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Like be a Mafia Boss?” Tsuna asked distantly. His eyelids were growing heavy. Chrome nodded. Everything was beginning to slip away, growing fuzzy and quiet. His head lolled to the side as he breathed, “Good.”

He was out like a light. 

Hayato shifted, moving for Tsuna to lay more comfortably against him. His arms wrapped protectively - possessively - around the smaller teen and looked at his two friends. 

“Reborn tried to force the seal,” Hayato said after a moment. He could feel it, the pulsing agitation of Tsuna’s flames. After having spent years with the younger teen, he knew what to look for. “Do you think-?”

“It’s a possibility. Did he ever say anything out of the ordinary? Hint at anything?” Chrome shuffled closer, hands almost moving on autopilot as she brushed Tsuna’s hair with her fingers. “You spent the longest with him in this lifetime.”

“He was never around much even when I was with Ettore,” Hayato explained gruffly as he tightened his arms. Footsteps were coming closer to the door. Mukuro moved to intercept the incoming guests, no doubt ready to make them be quiet. “But...he’s kind of the usual.”

“The usual,” Chrome echoed. “Little Lightning is hurting.” 

Hayato winced, nodding as his shoulders slumped. It was to be expected. When he was supposed to be growing into his memories and mental age, the medication Those People shoved down his throat instead fucked the entire process up. It was going to take longer for their Lambo to awaken. 

He sighed. 

Takeshi pressed into his side and Hayato’s head snapped up as Ryohei knelt down on his other side, glowing hands already cupping Tsuna’s feet. Takeshi’s hands were solid and safe as he maneuvered Hayato and Tsuna to both be leaning against him. The former Rain Guardian stared blankly down at Ryohei’s hands. 

“That Herbivore won’t be entering Namimori for a long time,” Kyouya spoke as he stepped into the apartment. Mukuro’s face was scrunched up at the haphazardly tossed pile of shoes at the doorway. He bent down to straighten out the shoes, Kyouya watching him with absent interest. 

“You banned him?” Ryohei looked taken back, hands stilling in healing Tsuna’s wounded feet. “What about when the Ring Battles happen?”

“Ettore is here. He’ll be the Representative,” Hayato argued as Kyouya and Mukuro came to join their group. Kyouya sat beside Chrome, arm wrapping around her waist. She nuzzled into his side, smile pleased. 

“So.” Takeshi breathed out heavily. “What do we do? Vongola has just taken one wrong step after one wrong step.”

“You mean that assassin?” Kyouya snarled, eyes narrowing at the memory. His hands twitched, no doubt wishing for his tonfas. “There will be no more mistakes.”

“Obviously,” Hayato snapped with a roll of his eyes. He wiggled out of Takeshi’s hold, moving to his feet with a fluidity he’d only gained from years of having to be light on his feet. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing back and forth. The other former Guardians watched, enraptured. 

“Okay.” Hayato stopped. He turned to them. “Okay. We’re going to work on getting that seal removed from Tsuna-sama. In the meantime, watch out for both Ettore and Reborn. Reborn may try something again in hopes of forcing Tsuna-sama to bow down to Vongola’s will.”

“Of course,” they all spoke out. Kyouya’s lips curled up in disgust at the very thought. Ryohei removed his hands, done healing him and instead peeked at his unblemished face.

“You healed his cheek?” The boxer asked, impressed by how well Hayato had done with his Sun flames. 

“I tried to get as much as I could. I think Reborn did the rest,” Hayato begrudgingly gritted out. He ran a hand through his hair. “No school today. Can Tsuna stay here? Until we make things clear with Reborn?”

“How?” Mukuro asked, head tilting to the side. 

Takeshi smiled. It was not a nice smile. “We’ll talk to him.” 

“Ryohei’s going to go with me,” Hayato explained as he crossed his arms. “So you go home.” Takeshi grumbled but reluctantly nodded. Kyouya had all but forced everyone out of the apartment, disliking the idea of them skipping but understanding that this once, it was necessary. 

“Fine.” Takeshi drew Hayato into a quick hug before moving away, Flames raging under his skin. “Text me if you need a back up.” He turned on his heel and marched down the street. The sun was just beginning to raise, casting yellow ribbons along the lavender.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, mood souring by the second as he shuffled off towards his home. 

He wished Tsuna didn't have to deal with this stress. Wished that Tsuna didn't have to know what a bullet felt like, what pressured expectations from complete strangers who thought they had a say in his life felt like. 

He knew he should have acted on his own. Go to Italy, find Vongola’s Base. Take it down before they could even think of having Tsuna be a candidate. He was selfish, he knew this. He had wanted to recreate everything, relive the happy and fun memories, not caring for the differences. Now it was too late. Now he had to deal with the fallout of his own selfishness of not wanting to put Tsuna’s happiness and individuality first. 

So lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the girl until his longer strides had them crashing. 

“Hahi!”

Takeshi’s insides went cold as his eyes slowly looked down at the sprawled girl, her book bag flung in front of her and her brown hair falling from it’s neat pony-tail.

Miura Haru scrambled to get up, hands brushing off her uniform skirt as Takeshi just stood there like a stone wall. 

“S-sorry,” Takeshi whispered, head ducking down as his hands trembled. Haru bent down to get her bag, looking at him uncertainly the entire time. 

“It’s-it’s fine. Haru was at fault too,” Haru said cautiously, that use of childish 3rd person pronoun grating on his nerves. He remembered, from late nights whispering against pillows and cuddling under sheets, that Haru had only spoken in 3rd person as a teenager as a way to relieve academic pressure from her parents. How they’d assumed she was stupid because of the habit, how they didn't force as much work on her - no cram schools, no tutors - nothing. 

“Are-are you okay?” Haru tucked one of her loosened locks behind her ear, frowning at him. “You look like your crying.” 

“I’m not having a good morning,” Takeshi confessed, unable to lie to her. Never her. Not after the memories he shared with his Haru, may her heart rest in peace. He owed it to any incarnation of Haru to treat her with the utmost respect and honesty. “Are you going to school?”

“Haru is, yes!” Haru’s cheeks flushed. “Ah, I’m Miura Haru...if you couldn’t tell.” She winced and the laugh that Takeshi released was a bit wet. 

“I’m Yamamoto. I’ll walk you to school. Kyouya says a flasher has been running around the streets recently.” Not for long though. After the flasher had nearly exposed himself to Chrome, the Hibari Clan was on a warpath to hunt for the flasher. He was a tricky, sneaky criminal though. It was hilarious in retrospect. 

“Hahi?! A fl-flasher?” Haru’s face went green. “How...how can I trust you?” She wavered, gripping her back tighter to her chest. 

“Because I’ll be walking with you,” Kyouya sounded from behind them. Haru peeked around Takeshi, eyes opening wide as Kyouya came storming down the street. He stopped beside the two, a cellphone in hand. “You forgot this.”

“Thanks, Kyouya,” Takeshi said. If Kyouya saw his hand shaking terribly, he didn't say anything. He handed it off and eyed Haru. 

“H-Hibari-san,” Haru squeaked out, hunching inwards. “Th-thank you?” Kyouya nodded, turning to begin walking. The girl exhaled, grabbing Takeshi’s shirt sleeve. It took everything for him not to rip his arm away. “You’re friends with the Hibari Heir?”

“We’re family,” Takeshi corrected and laughed at the aghast expression that responded. “Don’t be so scared. He’s nice.” 

“Nice.” Haru released Takeshi’s sleeve, cheeks staining red. “Babies are nice. Hibari-san is definitely not on the same level as those precious angels.” 

Takeshi snorted. The mental image was enough to have him laughing out loud, hugging his stomach.  Haru, much to his surprise, looked smug. Kyouya eyed them from ahead, his impatience clear. 

“He’s still grumpy though and a stickler for the rules so we better hurry,” Takeshi said and held a hand out for the girl. She stilled, eyeing it. She met his gaze and something in her expression softened. She took it and squeaked as Takeshi began to dash towards Kyouya, tugging Haru with him. 

They dropped her off quickly, Haru bowing to the two and shyly asking to exchange phone numbers. Takeshi beamed, trading off contact info with her before waving her off. 

Kyouya side-eyed him. “Are you alright?” He grunted as Takeshi threw an arm around his shoulder, drawing him closer. 

“No,” Takeshi choked out as he tightened his grip. “Fuck. I don’t - fuck.” Kyouya elbowed him in the ribs, getting him to release him. Takeshi stumbled back with a startled wheeze and Kyouya instead held out a handkerchief. 

Takeshi stared. 

“We were not close like you were,” Kyouya said simply, “but even I felt uncomfortable meeting her. It must be worse for you. She is alive. Don’t forget that. Make new memories.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Chrome too much,” Takeshi said in way of acknowledging the heart-felt speech. He took the offered fabric and wiped at his wet eyes. “So, what are we doing to do about Reborn?”

“I say we beat him into submission,” Kyouya stated as he began to walk again. 

“Or,” Reborn’s voice sounded from behind them and Takeshi wondered just how many people were going to make grand entrances on the street that day, “you could just talk to me. Like adults.” 

“Like adults,” Takeshi echoed, tone falling flat. 

Reborn tipped the brim of his hat up, frown annoyed. “Like adults, you complete dumbasses.” Behind him, looking like kicked puppies, were Ryohei and Hayato. 

“Stay with me, alright?” The man asked, long hair braided and tossed over one shoulder. The tiny child in his arms nodded vigorously, hands clinging to his red outfit. Her own black hair was tied in a top-knot braid. 

She tugged on his silk top, waiting patiently until he looked down at her. She pointed at the boarding gate across from their own gate. He caught sight of two familiar faces and his eyes widened. 

“Your eyesight is getting better, I-pin. These glasses really do help you,” he complimented in a soft coo as he freed one of his hands to tap the bridge-piece of the glasses along the girl’s tiny nose. She giggled. “And that is Ettore and Iemitsu from Vongola. Look at you, my smart apprentice. You’ve gotten so much better at memorizing faces.” 

I-pin nodded and the man hummed. I-pin didn't like to speak much in crowded places, too worried her accent would draw attention to them. So he’d grown used to her hand signs and her telegraphed meanings and questions. 

“Reborn isn’t with them,” he determined and I-pin nodded. He hummed again. “We’ll have to call him. He was the one who offered us a vacation here, after all.” 

He felt a bit bad, tricking his tiny apprentice into staying here. But she didn't know he had to leave for a dangerous mission. From what Reborn had told him, there would be a child of close age she could play with and she’d be in good hands. He just had to meet the Host-family that was so good-heartedly accepting her on such short notice. 

“Let’s go get our bags and then see if we can get Reborn to pick us up.” He let his eyes go back to the Vongola duo as they began to leave the gate, his eyes sliding to meet warm honey-brown. 

The woman smiled, her features delicate and gentle as she bowed her head at making eye-contact. He did the same, I-pin fumbling to copy him when she realized where he was looking. 

Fon smiled as they walked away. That woman reminded him of his niece. He wondered if she had any connections to the Hibari Clan. The air around her was too similar to be a coincidence. 

Speaking of which…

“Machiko-chan!” Fon greeted as he startled, arms tightening around I-pin when he caught sight of the woman. She was leaning against the wall near baggage claim, her sunglasses pushed up over her raven locks and her red eye-shadow making her dark eyes seem to smolder. 

“Uncle Fon,” Hibari Machiko greeted, tucking her cell-phone into her purse’s side pocket. She straightened, her cream colored blazer, pink blouse, and dark dress-pants doing nothing in terms of disguise. People avoided their area, eyes on her in horror, fear, admiration, and reverence as she walked towards him. Her heels clacked against the tile of the airport and she smiled, her expression deadly. “Were you trying to sneak in without visiting?”

“Nonsense,” Fon lied with a tight smile. “I was under the impression you and your husband were gone. On an anniversary trip. Or something.”

“We got back early,” Machiko waved and held her hands out for I-Pin. The child looked between the two of them and, after a nod from Fon, allowed herself to be held by the woman. “Hello I-Pin. I’m your Auntie Machiko.” Her eyes narrowed on Fon. “How old is she?”

“She’s seven,” Fon sighed and, trying to force down the red rage in him, nodded. “I know. She looks like a toddler. When I found her… Anyways, I’m happy I got to see you. This makes everything easier.” He smiled as he spotted their bags. They were in his hold in a second, the man looking like he’d never moved. Machiko looked on in bemusement. 

“What do you say to some tea?” Fon asked amicably. 

“I can do you one better,” Machiko said as she handled I-Pin to her hip. “How about some mapo tofu?” She laughed at how Fon’s eyes seemed to sparkle. 

“Please!” He smiled and the three made their way out of the airport.

Chapter Text

Chrome ran her hand through Tsuna’s bangs, touch feather-light and soft. Mukuro laid against the side of the couch, cheek pillowed on the cushion as he watched her. She kneeled there, focused in her soothing gesture, while Chikusa and Ken had scrambled out of the apartment building the moment everyone began to show up. 

“He’s so fragile,” she whispered, glancing at Mukuro. The only sound was the clock on the wall ticking away, creating a soothing rhythm. “Was he always like this?”

“No,” Mukuro sighed as he shuffled closer, hugging her around the waist and nuzzling into her back, “he wasn’t. This Tsunayoshi is more mentally and emotionally weak. I wonder why.” 

“I do too,” Chrome hummed and her hand hesitated. She glanced back at Mukuro again, worrying her bottom lip. “Think we should-?”

“That’s a very big breach of trust,” Mukuro pointed out and, gleefully, nudged her hand, “so obviously, yes. Let’s go, My Nagi, and see just what a clusterfuck of a mind this child has.” Chrome gave a slight giggle and the two intertwined their fingers together. Hands overlapping, they pressed their palms to Tsuna’s forehead. 

They felt the flare of their Mist Flames brushing up against Tsuna’s own Sky Flames-

-

-

-

Chrome gasped, her sense of awareness slamming back into her. Mukuro hugged her to his chest, trident in front of them protectively as they surveyed their surroundings. 

They were in a living room.  A couch was settled in the middle of the room, scrapped wooden floorboards creaking under their weight. A TV was on in the corner, the screen showing muted white static. The walls of the living room were almost drowned in picture frames, the images inside each from nothing but a white rectangle. The curtains were drawn back, showing blinding sunlight streaming in ribbons across the floor. The entryway into the kitchen was blackened, a thick wall of black blocking the way through. The stairs leading upstairs were shadowed in thin layers of mist.

Chrome had vague memories of her Boss’s old childhood home but just looking from where she stood, she could tell it was different. It was creepy, eerie in a way that lighting and silence couldn’t cause. 

It was blank. Frighteningly so.     

And laying in this frighteningly blank mindscape was Tsuna, curled up on his side on the couch. Chrome broke free from Mukuro’s hold, rushing towards the slumbering child. Her heart hammered in her chest, an anxiety not her own crawling up as she touched his cheek. 

It was ice cold. 

“I don’t-” she looked over her shoulder to Mukuro, who was eyeing the blank frames “-I don’t understand. Mindscapes are supposed to be reflections of our souls and minds. Why is his so…”

“Empty?”

Mukuro and Chrome jerked their heads towards the staircase. The steps creaked and moaned as a figure descended, his hand gliding along the handrail. Chrome’s eyes went wide while Mukuro’s narrowed. 

The man stopped at the foot of the stairs, smile kind and a bit sad. Sunset eyes burned into the two, his blonde hair lightened by the burning flame warming his forehead. 

“You’re the Vongola Primo Giotto,,” Mukuro observed as he stepped up to Chrome, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I thought your Flames were sealed in the ring or the items or whatever it was. Not Tsunayoshi himself.” 

“In a timeline, that was true,” Giotto hummed as he moved around the couch, Mukuro tugging Chrome back warily. The man sat down by Tsuna’s head, hand brushing back the child’s bangs. The man looked at the boy so tenderly, Chrome’s heart clenched. “But in this timeline, precautions were made so…”

“Precautions?” Chrome whispered. Tsuna made a sleepy murmur and Giotto shushed him, bending down to whisper in his ear. Mukuro’s eyes narrowed again. Something wasn’t right. Something was completely and utterly wrong. 

“Did you never question it?” Giotto inquired, tone genuine as he adjusted Tsuna to lay against him. “How you were reincarnated? Did you ever stop to ask ‘how’ ?” His eyes kept the two pinned in place, so judgemental and scorching. 

“What have you done?” Mukuro whispered, paling as something in his mind connected. “How did you do this?”

“I didn't do anything,” Giotto corrected as the world began to twist and the colors became too saturated and bright to properly look at. “The real question should be, ‘How did your Tsunayoshi do this? ’” 

Mukuro’s mind reeled. He finally understood what had been wrong. Tsuna’s mindscape. It was his living room, a common space. A space welcomed to everyone and anyone who entered. For his mindscape to represent such an open and barren area-

-

-

-

He snatched his hand back as if burned, falling backwards as Chrome collided with his chest. Tsuna continued to sleep, curled on his side and snoozing softly. Blue and red eyes stared, not really seeing, at the unconscious teen. 

“Mukuro-sama?” Chrome’s voice was weak. “What-what does this mean?” 

Mukuro rested his face in his hands, breathing heavily. His shoulders trembled, shaking large tremors as laughter bubbled up. He curled tighter into himself, his hysteria building before it died out abruptly. 

“Tsunayoshi was always so selfish,” he whispered, red eye glowed behind the shadows of his fingers. “I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

“How many years?” Reborn asked tightly, finger twitching to pull the trigger on his gun. “How many years ?” 

The four Guardians kept silent, feeling like children being scolded by a livid parent. Reborn paced back and forth in front of their kneeled positions, Kyouya looking ready to draw blood at the demeaning posture. 

“How many years have you guys been adults and yet the moment you turn back into kids, all logic goes out the window?” Reborn paused and his eyes zeroed in on Hayato. “Especially you, Mr. Right-Hand.” Hayato winced. 

“Don’t you know the first rule of time-travel and or reincarnation? You keep to the script. Idiots. You are all idiots.” Reborn shook his head, exhaling nasally as he finally put his gun away. “Here I am trying to minimize damage control-”

“If you remembered,” Takeshi snapped, “then you should have said something. Why are you all for Tsuna being Vongola head again, huh? He died-”

“I know that!” The silence was stifling at Reborn’s sudden bark. The hitman tugged the brim of his hat down, hiding his thunderous expression. “I know that. But Vongola would offer him protection. What are you thinking, trying to protect him against the most powerful Family in all of the Underworld? Vongola would destroy you in seconds.” 

“No they wouldn’t,” Kyouya argued. Ryohei shifted, eyes moving to look around Hayato’s living room. Reborn had dragged the four there, knowing Lavina would be out. It was ironic that he had no idea Tsuna was just a floor away. “We’re strong.”

“Correction,” Reborn snapped, “you at forty-something was strong. You at sixteen is laughable .” He pushed his hat up, eyes narrowed. “I’ve sworn myself to protect Tsuna and do what I think is best for him. Him continuing on his path to be Vongola Decimo would benefit him immensely and give him so much protection. If we manipulate his allies and who he associates with in this timeline, we could end up avoiding the...downfall that sent us all here.” 

“But if he doesn’t want to be Head,” Hayato argued venomously, “then why push it? Tsuna-sama isn’t like Tenth. He’s not... they’re different .” He looked physically pained, trying to properly articulate to Reborn the contrast between the two visions of the man they once followed to death. Because for all they idealized their Tenth, Tsuna was nothing like him. Would never be like him. 

And Hayato was immensely grateful for that. 

“Why don’t you just say you’re going to train him to be a Mafia Boss,” Takeshi spoke up after a moment, “but instead just teach Tsuna self defense? He’s not going to go along with this. A member of Vongola tried to assassinate him - you really think he’s going to just happily lead some group that wanted him dead?”

Silence met his statement. Reborn stared down at the swordsman, eyes unreadable. 

“Tsuna-sama could benefit from learning to protect himself,” Hayato mused aloud, cupping his chin. “He’d be underestimated with his civilian status, which would give him an advantage if a rival Family tried something.” 

“And,” Takeshi pointed out, eyes deadly, “Reborn can continue to introduce him to members of allied Families so he can build connections and friendships that’ll last even with him not becoming Decimo.” 

“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” Ryohei piped up, looking impressed. “I was under the impression Kyouya was going to be the one to talk about our options.” Said Hibari just grunted. Reborn pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I’d be committing treason,” Reborn gritted out. “I’d be putting myself against the entirety of the Underworld once they hear I bailed on Vongola for some unassuming Japanese civilians.” 

“You swore loyalty to Tsuna-sama,” Hayato said simply. His eyes were serious. “You never swore yourself to Vongola. Not really. You’re more of a consultant, right?”

“Freelance,” Reborn corrected and looked at the four. “You guys are crazy, you know that?”

“Never said we were sane,” Ryohei answered for them. “You’ve always known this. We’d have never survived as long as we did if we were sane.” 

No lie there. 

Reborn plopped down across from the floor, taking his hat off. “Okay.” That single word eased any tension lining the teens bodies. “Okay. Let’s talk shop.”

Tsuna’s eyes fluttered open gradually. He blinked up at the unfamiliar but familiar ceiling, recognizing it as Hayato’s apartment. He sat up, stilling as he looked at the unfamiliar furniture around him. 

Where…?

Memories hit him and he winced, gathering the situation quickly. Oh, right, he had a major meltdown and fled from Reborn and his house. What were their names - Chrome and Mukuro? - had helped him calm down and then he’d passed out. 

Uhg. Talk about embarrassing. 

“The recipe says to sweat the onions, Mukuro-sama. This isn’t sweating - this is burning them.” 

Tsuna blinked and turned itchy eyes over to the kitchen area. The two teens were at the stove, Mukuro with a wooden spoon in hand as Chrome shoved a cookbook into his face.

“I know how to cook,” Mukuro snapped as he batted the book away. “I like my onions burnt.”

“Well I don’t,” Chrome argued and hip-checked Mukuro to the side, stealing the spoon. “It’s going to make the bacon taste burnt and I don’t like that. I like my bacon sweet.” Mukuro grumbled and leaned against her back as she took over stirring the pot on the stove. Tsuna just blinked, watching the two. 

“Good morning,” Mukuo called, looking at him over his shoulder. “We didn’t wake you, did we?” Tsuna drew his knees up, shaking his head.

“No. Um. Thanks for letting me...sleep?” Tsuna’s cheeks burned. “Sorry for, um, everything.”

“Don’t apologize, Tsunayoshi-san,” Chrome countered as she waved her spoon in his direction. “We’re friends.”

“Was it true?” Tsuna asked and at the two looks of curiosity, elaborated, “what you said? That you’d protect me from Vongola?” 

“Absolutely,” Chrome said while Mukuro just shrugged his shoulder. “If you don’t want to be Vongola Head, then we will do everything we can to make sure you aren’t.”

“Why?” His words were soft, hands curled into his shirt front. “Why do that far for me? You say we’re friends but we’re practically strangers.”

“You might not understand it right now,” Mukuro said as he took the spoon, stirring at the smoking bacon and onions in the pot, “but we’re not strangers. We care for you.” 

“Oh.” He didn’t believe them even though they were being open and honest. He knew - he couldn’t feel anything off about them. Speaking of which… “Why do you feel weird like Ettore?”

“Mist flames,” the two explained and Tsuna blinked. Huh. “Also, Ettore-kun has agreed to be our eyes and ears in places we can’t access.”

“What?” Tsuna leaned forward a bit as Chrome abandoned the stove to come over to sit next to him. Chrome smiled softly as she held a hand out. Mist Flames coiled around her fingers, light tendrils that caused shivers down Tsuna’s spine.

“We can use our flames to possess people. Ettore-kun, because of his mentality and similar flames, is easier to possess than others. He’d agreed to help us.”

“Why?” Tsuna wasn’t going to think about possession. He wasn’t going to think about that right now when there were more pressing matters. 

Chrome looked heartbreakingly sad as she studied him.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice was almost a whisper. “You endear people the moment you meet them. You strike loyalty in those you interact with immediately. Ettore-kun wants to protect you just as much as we do, even if he has a different manner of going about it.”

“Why?” His eyes were dead as he stared Chrome down. 

“Because you are a worthy Sky,” she said simply and smiled. “And we love you for it.” 

The house was quiet when Reborn entered. Nana’s voice sounded from the kitchen, a soft hum. He stepped through the entryway, listening for Ettore of Lambo. 

“They’re at the park,” Nana explained without turning from the sink, sponge going in circles over a plate. “Since I can’t enroll them into school quite yet, Ettore-kun is keeping Lambo occupied.”

“Oh.” Reborn sat down at the table, uncomfortable in a way he hadn’t felt in decades . “Tsuna’s-”

“With friends, I know,” Nana said. Reborn’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her words were curt, tone terse. She was angry. She was angry at him. "Hayato-kun messaged me to explain the situation."

The sponge stopped its circular motions and Reborn tensed as Nana set the plate back into the soapy water. She turned and he very carefully kept his eyes trained on her hands as they fisted into the front of her apron. 

“Last year, Tsu-kun was sent to the hospital after being shot.” Her knuckles were white as she clenched tightly to her apron. Reborn lifted his gaze to meet steely brown. “A man associated with Iemitsu’s job-” she shook her head “-Iemitsu’s life came for my child’s blood.” 

“You’re a good actress,” Reborn said lowly as he took his fedora off. “Even Iemitsu is fooled.”

“He’s always a fool when it comes to me,” Nana corrected and smoothed her apron out. Her face was pinched and tight in all the wrong places for someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. “Reborn, are you here to hurt my child?”

First name basis, no honorifics. She was giving him an opening, to stand on equal footing. She was not intimidated by him. She was no afraid of him. 

She was not a housewife, confronting a strange house guest. She was a lioness, predatory eyes on unsuspecting prey and waiting for the right moment to pounce. 

Without him really knowing why, a shiver went down his spine. She reminded him of Luce. Of how the storms brewed silently in her words, calm and quiet until the heavens were pouring and lightning and thunder was slashing through someone’s serene peace. But unlike Luce, who let her deadliness lace her words and steps with each movement during her games of cat and mouse, Nana kept her cards up high and her knife hidden well. 

“Nana,” Reborn returned the courtesy, letting her know that for as long as she kept her distance and he kept his manners, they’d continue to stay amiable, “I swear that Tsuna’s well-being is my first and foremost priority. His happiness, his safety, everything that makes him who he is will be under my protection.”

“Even if that means Vongola wants to destroy him?” Nana’s eyes held a heat to them that made them almost seem to shine. But she didn’t carry flames - Reborn knew - but he still couldn’t help but hope . 

He wondered, distantly, if the Nana of his previous life was this fierce or if different circumstances had weathered down her fighting spirit? Was this the spark Iemitsu had seen in her? Had it snuffed out? Or had it always been there, concealed behind carefully constructed laughs and airy comments of ignorance? 

“Even if the entire world becomes my enemy,” he promised, “I will protect that child. Because-” He trailed off. What could he say? He didn’t know how much she knew - how much she picked up on and how much she was assuming, connecting, and filling in the blanks for herself. 

“Because he reminds you of your Tsunayoshi?”

Reborn’s hands clenched into fists. Nana moved and sat down across from him at the table, keeping her hands in sight for his own peace of mind. It irked him, just a bit, that the woman could make him feel so cautious. She was supposed to be some air-headed housewife without a care in the world and yet her very presence made his instincts flare. 

“When?” He asked and Nana’s eyes slipped closed, exhaustion lining her features like a burden too big for her to handle. 

“Takeshi-kun told me when Tsu-kun was in the hospital. He told me everything.” Her voice caught. She cleared her throat. “You’ll keep him safe?”

“I will do everything in my power,” Reborn promised. Nana stared at him, gaze searching for a slip of weakness, some clue that he was lying, that his words weren’t anything but empty air. She must have found something worth believing because she nodded and stood back up. 

Reborn sat there as she went back to the sink to finish the dishes. A fleeting thought passed his mind, of how much he could mold her potential, and he quickly shot it down. 

She’d made a deadly foe if that ever happened. For now, Reborn would keep a distance and admire what could have been and what may be. 

Ryohei looked up from his phone as Kyoko kicked - as in physically kicked - his down open. 

“Why weren’t you at school and where was Tsuna-kun?” 

Ryohei wondered how anyone could see this girl and think she was as fragile and dainty as a flower. She was like the thorny stem of a gorgeous flower - pretty to look at but painful to interact with. He missed the old days, when Kyoko  would rather shove cake into her face instead of follow him to the gym. 

Didn’t mean he loved her any less. 

“Sawada had a bad day and had to stay home,” Ryohei spoke as Kyoko marched herself into his room and plopped down on his bed across from him, “and I had some business to take care of.” 

Kyoko nodded, looking like she was only half listening. She had that impatient look in her eyes, the one where she was thinking of what she wanted to say that anything Ryohei said went in one ear and out the other. 

“I’m inviting him over this weekend for cake,” she said once Ryohei fell silent, knowing he might as well let her say her piece. “Hana-chan will be coming over too. And where Tsuna-kun goes-”

“-Hayato and Takeshi follow, yeah I know,” Ryohei huffed. “Want to do a picnic instead?” Because with those three together, they’d need a large space. 

Kyoko tapped her chin, humming. Her eyes brightened and she clapped her hands together. “Sure! I’d love to have a picnic with Tsuna-kun!”

“Kyoko…” Ryohei eyed her warily. “You know he’s not... him and the other two…”

“Yamamoto-kun is stingy,” Kyoko said with a frosty smile, “but I will make sure I’m Tsuna-kun’s best friend.”

“Why?” Ryohei really, really missed the old days. 

“Because.” Kyoko blinked like he’d just asked a stupid question. “Tsuna-kun is adorable!”

She hugged him and left, closing the door behind her. He tried to ignore how the door was now off one hinge. He’d fix it later. 

He wondered if he should just message the group about the picnic and paused. He imagined Kyoko meeting Mukuro and Chrome. In the previous life, only after marriage and child-birth did Kyoko grow used to the mysterious Mukuro even though Chrome had been one of her bridesmaids. They’d caught on like a house on fire after getting into a fist fight one drunken night in their 30s. 

He paled. They’d be attached at the hip with how his sister was now. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. 

Knowing how Kyoko could be, he could only assume the worst. He groaned and buried his hands into his hair.