Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Tsuna was young, despite any objections he might've outright said, he was always forced to go through rather odd or downright dangerous situations. Take being a mob boss for example. If ten years ago you had come to his house and said he would lead one of the most influential famiglias in the world, he would’ve laughed and said you had the wrong person before dialling the police. But if that person happened to be Reborn, well, things were going to go his way no matter what.

Don’t want to be Vongola Decimo? Fine then, you’ll be Neo Vongola Primo!

Hell, even now with his experience and power, Tsuna wouldn’t dare cross Reborn. But if he was going to get shot at anyways for his guardian’s rapidly accumulating property damage, might as well tease him about his height. Not that he was much of an exception; he was one of the shortest out of all his guardians.

Where was he going with this?

Oh yes. Tsuna’s inability to reject his fate.

To be fair, perhaps this time, it wasn’t completely the weapons development unit at fault. More like ninety percent. He really should’ve listened to Shoichi when he warned him about going into his and Spanner’s personal workshops. They were apparently working on the Bovino famiglia’s ten-year bazooka and its space-time capabilities (that really should’ve been the first red flag). But he was looking for Lambo and for some reason, the teen always sought shelter in an extremely dangerous, highly unstable, experimental, and possibly explosive weapons laboratory by the two most impulsive engineers who were each other’s impulse control.

The last thing he saw before Lambo accidentally tripped on a bundle of cables, which short-circuited the giant machine— thanks a lot hyper intuition you piece of— was a bright flash of light and Spanner erasing the twenty-five into a zero on a “days since an accident” sign.

When he opened his eyes, Tsuna saw not the duo’s laboratory but a country road in Japan. If that was it, he would’ve congratulated Shoichi and Spanner for creating a transporter that didn’t make the user nauseous or lose consciousness. But that situation didn’t fit the maelstrom of chaos that fate gave to Tsuna, no, not only did he travel back to his “home” country, but a few people who drove past him were beings who he could loosely call “humans”. Some looked normal, some like very intense cosplayers, but others looked very alien with severe mutations—almost as if the Millefiore took their Flame-hybrid experiments and cranked it up to Frankenstein.

And Tsuna… and Tsuna could only mentally sigh at his situation. If he were ten years younger maybe he would’ve freaked out and panicked. But now? 

“Can’t believe I got used to being thrown through time and space. Why is this normal for me? How did I get here? Oh yeah, Reborn ,” he sighed, twidling with a special ring on his finger.

He fiddled with the metal dials on the ring until he heard a buzz and people screaming through his earpiece.

“The ring’s response time was faster by point eight seconds, nice. Hey, Tsuna are you okay?” Shoichi asked.

He dusted his mantel with his other hand, sending a location ping with the transmission ring. “I’m fine.”

“Tenth where are you? Are you okay?” his trusty right-hand asked. “On a scale of 1 to 10 how badly can I punish these idiots?”

God, we are all way too used to this.

“I’m not sure, I’m fine, and I’d rather them fix this problem than waste time repenting for actions they’ll definitely do again,” Tsuna replied calmly as he explained his surroundings. “So either I entered some secret human experimental zone or I’ve been sent to a parallel universe.”

“The latter.”

He sighed. “Please say it’s a universe we travelled through before.”

“Luckily for you Vongola, it is. I think it was about three years ago with Basil.” Spanner said before explaining the world he found himself in. “Oh yeah, there should be a Vongola Headquarters in... Musutafu City set up by Basil so go hang there for a while. The Vindice have no authority over there as far as we’re concerned so you don’t need to handicap yourself in a fight. Got all that?”

“There aren’t Dying Will Flames but Quirks and about eighty percent of the world populace has a weird roulette of powers ranging from simple animal mutations to possibly reality-warping laser death cannons. Because of this, Heroes are an actual profession and there are laws forbidding the use of Quirks in public due to safety concerns.”

He repeated it as if saying it would make it any less ridiculous.

“Yeah, pretty much. Sorry Vongola, but it might take a few weeks to fix the machine. Maybe a little more if your Storm doesn’t revoke our thumb privileges.”

Tsuna so badly wanted to scream, “why me?” and “I don’t want to do this!” but buried those complaints deep within himself along where all his hopes and dreams of having a normal, peaceful life stayed.

“I’ll figure something out. Besides, a few weeks without dealing with the mafia sounds great to me.”

Spanner chuckled. “Just remember your little vacation when you come back. I hate fighting with the guys at finance. They already tried to cut our budget in—”

Tsuna hissed at the piercing squeal of the mic screaming directly in his ear. “Are you guys al—?”

He felt a sudden chill down his spine, knowing exactly who took over the intercom.

“So you think you can just get out of your responsibilities, do you?”

“H—Hello Reborn.” Damn it he tried not to stutter. “How are you doing?” Oh, he could just feel the glare through time and space.

“Just fine," he replied in an upbeat sarcastic drawl, "but I wonder how your kneecaps will be in three weeks.”

“How is everything my fault?” he mumbled as he observed his surroundings.

“A good boss should be able to avoid such problems." He chuckled deviously before his tone lowered. "Now, shut up and listen. You’re a mafia boss, Tsuna. Do you understand? You are not a hero.”

Tsuna weakly covered his smile with his hand. Despite what Reborn said, he could hear the underlying worry and trust in his voice. It reminded him of his youth when the weight of everyone's lives clutched his shoulders; when he feared the tears of his loved ones would drown him. When things turned complex and he thought he had to be a hero to save others—noble and righteous. Someone he wasn't.

But he was only human. He didn't need intricate goals and motivations, he only needed to see what was around him. Some may call him selfish but even the sky had its limits. When one took in too many elements without gaining anything in return, even the sky would break. Any more and he'll crack, as fragile as glass, pieces shattering, the rifts webbing what was left. Coddling him would only sand down the edges but the gaping wound will still be there, hollow and empty.

But Reborn? He was none of that. He didn't take shit from anyone and that included his student's detrimental selflessness. He was the one to shoot at the hole in the sky, tell you to take a hard look at yourself, and then collect the pieces you thought you lost to help you rebuild yourself. It was incredibly tough but he didn't do it out of selfishness but because he knew he could do better.

“I’m not going to jump in at first sign of danger,” he said light-heartedly, “I’d like to remind you that I’m the most pacifistic one out of all of us.”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

He did. In the past, Tsuna was a coward, a person who ran away at the first sign of trouble. But now with everything he went through, he couldn’t help but become more assertive and to face the danger with pride; he couldn’t help but aid people who were in front of him. Not from heroism, but because he could. Not that he would rush into a fight, he wasn’t suicidal, Ryohei, or some hero.

“It’s so nice to hear you care about me, Reborn,” Tsuna teased, “but I’m doing amazing right now. I got fresh air, vitamin D, a change of scenery and I finally got to stretch my legs and I feel great! ”

He heard Reborn sigh through his headset, picking up on some chuckling in the background that sounded suspiciously like Takeshi.

Picking up his tone, he said in a sinister tone lacing his voice, “Well then, if you have so much energy—” Why did he think teasing him would be a good idea? "—I expect you to spread the Vongola name, recruit at least one hundred people into our ranks, and when you come back...”

Tsuna coughed, briefly weighing his options to either apologize or starting a new life here.

“A—Are you seriously giving me homework ?”

“It’s summer vacation for students in Japan right now, isn’t it? You should be used to this. Or did you suddenly regress back into your pathetic middle school self?”

“Sadist. You are nothing but a sadist.”

“Apparently not enough of one if you have the gall to talk back to me." Tsuna imagined Reborn smugly twiddling the curly cord on a nineteen-seventies rotary phone as he said this. "Maybe I’ll talk to Byakuran and have him send me there.”

The probability of that was less than point one percent but if being with Reborn for over ten years had taught him anything it was that when Reborn wants something, he’ll get it.

Tsuna turned the dial on the ring by a centimetre, slowly making his way back into its original position.

“Oh… Oh no … you’re breaking up...”

“Tsuna, don’t you dare—”

“Sorry, bye!” He quickly turned the dial, breaking the connection. He impressed himself on how stupidly brave and suicidal his actions had become.

“He’ll kill me for sure that but that’s future me’s problem,” he reassured his current self.

With that Tsuna travelled along the road to the nearest town, trying to run from his problem like any responsible adult. Of course, that wasn’t necessary when trouble stuck to him like a leech—

“Villian!”

“Please help!”

“The building’s crumbling!”

“Children! My children are in there!”

—and he ran towards the screaming without hesitation.

Somewhere else, a young boy clutched onto his mother, the latter of whom was robotically patting his hair, all sense of warmth and comfort that once there lost to time.

"Mom?" he said, voice wavering.

She hummed noncommittally.

"I heard him saying that he might replace you." His little fingers squeezed her harder as if just the thought could make her disappear. "On the phone. He was talking to someone."

Although it happened hours ago, he could still hear the cold, authoritative voice of his father controlling him, his life. It was after their training, or "father-son bonding time" as he heard one of his father's associates called it. He was walking over to where his mom was, nursing an injury, holding back his tears. Tears didn't help anyone, certainly not himself or his mom.

It was only by chance that he overheard his conversation. Usually, if his father wasn't training him, he isolated himself in this office or had work far away from the house. But today it seemed he was unlucky enough to see him outside of his mandatory training lessons.

"—the boy needs more than what she could offer him," he said rubbing his temples, "go search for someone with high proficiency in ice Quirks then refer them to me. I can't have him tainted and spoiled by some amateur."

As an eight-year-old boy, his mind couldn't connect what he was hearing. He knew that his father was looking for someone to train his right side, his mom's side. The side that eased the pain. But then what about his mom? What would happen to his mom? Would she stop nurturing his left side?

He knew his father was utilitarian, selfish. He immediately discarded anything that was a hindrance and cut ties with anyone that would drag him down. Blood included. He already knew that his family wasn't like what he saw on TV. A happy mom and dad who loved each other, siblings who would pull pranks and laugh about it. Even the simplest things fascinated him: eating homecooked meals together during "family time", play multiplayer games and acting silly, and sleep together under one roof. He was envious of those fictional characters. Even those crafted stories had better chemistry than his family. While they had "family reunions" and reminisced about the moments they shared, he could barely remember the face of his eldest brother.

So would this mean that he would get someone like his father to train his left side as well? Did that mean his left side would be moulded into something that causes pain like his right? Did that mean he would be forced to spend even less time with his mom?

"But that's not going to happen, right?"

He looked at her, not understanding the pain and suffering behind those eyes. He hoped that she would call his name with her comforting voice like back then. For her to embrace him, kiss his cheeks and say that she'll protect him. To say that everything would be alright. He knew it wasn't true but it made him feel better.

"You won't leave me alone, right? Mom?"

She hummed once more.

Chapter Text

“It’s okay, it’s going to be all okay,” she whispered.

Fuyumi held her little brother in her arms, her clothes wrinkled and soaked by his tears. She shivered, holding him closer, hoping to give him any warmth she still had left. Natsuo bit his lips, burying his head into her shoulders, hiccuping, trying to hold back his cries. They huddled together in silence, the only sound being the muffled hiccups and breathing of the two children. 

Villains attacks were not uncommon. Villains targetting specific people were not uncommon. Villains targetting specific people related to their targets were not too uncommon. Because of the numerous heroes in towns and cities, however, it was uncommon for them to succeed. But of course, the one day Fuyumi got a day out with her younger brother was when the villain attacked. It's been ten minutes? No, maybe more or less she couldn't tell. She didn't have the time or energy tracking it. She didn't know anything about the villain, all she knew is that the moment she saw his hateful glare she took Natsuo by the arms and ran.

Now, they were stuck underneath collapsed buildings with the deafening crush of stone and metal creeping closer and closer to their burrow. Weak sheets of ice covered them, chipping away at each vibration from the impact above, holding back the broken house from caving in on them. Fuyumi, despite having a much higher constitution to the cold than her brothers, came to a point now where she started to shiver and wince at the pain nipping at her burning fingers. She made sure Natsuo's head was against her; knowing that if he noticed her hands he would recklessly try and do the same.

He let out a whimper as she gently shushed him. Being the offspring of a hero meant that they were taught what to do in these types of situations. And the first thing was not to draw any attention towards themselves (though that wasn’t just a lesson on avoiding villains).

She could still hear the shrill laughter of the maniac, trying to search for them. For “justice” he said. What a load of crap. If they had a problem with their father, they should take it up with him instead of taking it out on innocent children whose only crime was sharing his blood.

Crash! They both jumped as a large piece of the ceiling came crumbling down in front of them, Fuyumi quickly covering Natsuo with her body. It wasn’t much but she would do anything to protect her remaining brother.

“I’m s—scared,” he whispered, voice muffled, “I—I want to go back to auntie’s.”

She shushed him gently, creating another wall of ice, making sure the frost didn’t touch Natsuo. “I know, I know. A h—hero will be here to rescue us soon.”

She combed through his hair trying not to only reassure him but also herself. If she didn’t do something to hide her trembling, she feared the worst. She had no other option but to bite back her fear. But as their small sanctuary was becoming smaller and smaller with each piece of falling rubble, a cold sense of dread crawled through her spine, her body becoming numb not only from her Quirk but also at the cold blade of death running down her back.

Crash!

Natsuo hiccuped and whimpered, “Fuyu—Fuyumi I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t.” She took deep breaths, refusing to succumb to her fear. “We’re going to be rescued, we’ll get an autograph from the hero for your secret collection, and after we get to auntie’s, I promise to make you some ice cream.”

He let out a shaky breath. “W—With sea salt caramel?”

She nodded, careful not to let her raw, chaffing flesh touch his. “With sea salt caramel.”

Crash! Their talk was cut short as the walls started to shake again as they both braced for impact. She shut her eyes, hoping that her body would at least keep Natsuo alive.

“Fuyumi, look!”

She opened her eyes as hope blossomed on her face. Following Natsuo’s finger, she saw light beaming through the walls, little by little the rubble was being cleared off. It was bright — light filtering through the gaps and crevasses of splintered wood and dented metal — she could see the ocean where her siblings often played together in the far back. Back before Toya left, back before Shoto left, back before mom left. Perhaps it was because she had never been saved so close to death before but the shimmering light dancing on the water seemed to wave at her, becoming bright and beautiful.

Natsuo tugged on her sleeve, a relieved smile stretching his face. She felt tears of relief as she saw the face of her rescuer.

Her hopes were immediately shot down, her heart plummeting to her stomach when she saw not the face of a hero, but the villain.

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you that you shouldn’t talk while you’re hiding?” he said with a grin splitting his face.

Beg. She had to beg for their— no, her brother’s life.

“P—P—Plea—” Her throat caught her raspy voice, breath trembling, unable to push out a plea of mercy.

Unfortunately for them, the villain didn’t see their mouths move in the dark.

“Not even a ‘please spare us?’” He scoffed, a disgusted scowl on his face. “Wow, you really are Endeavor’s kids.”

She was screaming, yelling, screeching; but nothing came out. Words were coughed up as choked whimpers, her diaphragm jolted the more she tried to force air through her lungs. The white noise, the continuous high pitched ring gradually getting louder, circling her ears, painting her senses in black.

Why couldn’t she say anything? Just say something, anything!

She felt the energy draining from her body, hopelessness coupled with hypothermia didn’t help her consciousness. She could just barely feel Natsuo shaking in her arms. Why did it feel so warm all of a sudden?

Heroes, Toya, anyone! Please, anyone!

“If you want to blame someone, blame your dad for ruining people’s lives.” His arms morphed into something monstrous, the details blurry, death’s scythe silhouetted against the bright sea, taunting her of better days. “I’m not a monster like Endeavor. I’ll at least give you kids a quick—”

“Fuck off!”

Fuyumi stared at Natsuo holding out an arm out in front of her, his small body trying to shield her from the villain. She tried to pull him back but only succeeded in weakly twitching her arm in front of her before the limb plummeted to the ground.

“N—Nat…!”

Despite the tears and snot running down his face, he didn’t relent, a thin layer of frost covering his legs.

“If you want Endeavor so bad then go and get him!” He screamed, fear replaced with pent-up frustration. “You’re a stupid f—fucking idiot! You can’t even face him so you take it out on us, y—you C-list villain!”

Fuyumi sucked in a breath. Natsuo was a sweet child, albeit mischievous. He was an out-going boy but he never swore or became defiant like his older brother. Perhaps that was her influence on him but now it seemed like Natsuo was channelling some of Toya’s language.

“You think he cares if something happens to us!?”

She was sure that Natsuo didn’t even register what he‘d said. Hell, if she had the energy and consciousness for it, she would’ve been panicking instead.

“You don’t know anything! Fuck all of you! Why can’t you just leave us alone!”

She desperately wanted to yell, “stop it! Stop provoking him, you idiot!” But she could only watch as the villain’s arm reared back, blocking the sunlight, blocking the ocean. She could barely move her lips, black blots of static obscuring her vision, her last thoughts being a prayer for Natsuo to live.

In the end, she really couldn’t protect anyone. Not Toya, not Shoto, not her mom, not Natsuo, not even herself.

Natsuo braced himself. Even he knew that without a miracle, there was no hope in getting out alive. His sister had protected him and all for nothing. It’s not fair! —he thought— why us!? We aren’t bad!

Maybe being a Todoroki just came with a curse.

“This is justice for everyone he hurt.” He heard little remorse in his voice. “I’ll send your parents to you soon.”

If there was one last wish he had, it was that he could see his—

“I think not.”

Both Natsuo and the villain turned their heads towards the new voice. Although he couldn’t see who it was, his heart thumped loudly. It was a miracle; a hero? Please be a hero!

“A h—hero?” He heard the villain stutter. “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone patrolling here to—!”

In a flash, a blinding flurry of orange light filled his vision, a loud crash! reverbing through the hole. But before he could even open his eyes, he was enveloped in a warmth he’d never felt before. It wasn’t warmth in the physical sense, not entirely, it was more of a feeling. Like unwavering love, a promise of protection. It felt like when his mom used to hug him and kiss him to bed at night.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the streets, the ocean, the sky. His body was caressed by the hero’s cape, something familiar and pleasant washing away his fears. Next to him was his sister, worse for wear but still breathing. Alive.

Across from the hero was the villain, half-buried into the rubble, his clothes singed at the edges, beads of crystal-like ice embedded into his skin.

He turned towards the hero, clinging to his pants, awe and admiration evident on his face.

“Nope,” Tsuna said as the dust settled,  “I’m just a decent human being.”

Chapter Text

Tsuna massaged his wrists, chastising himself in Reborn’s stead. Stinging pain poked and prodded at his muscles, punishing him for using his Flames so suddenly without a proper conduit. It was never good to underestimate any opponent but the amount of power he put into that punch was completely unnecessary—not to mention the shards of deathperation ice clinging to his skin. It didn’t hurt him, they were his Flames after all, but the fact he lost control reminded him of how rusty his discipline was.

Admittedly, this wasn't his smartest move; if he was back in his own world, he might’ve had alerted the Vindice, or worse Reborn, for that flashy move—especially out in public like this. He did at least melt the ice with his flames as soon as his impulsiveness subsided. If he didn’t… well, even in a world like this one, he'd imagine trying to explain a glacier of everlasting ice trapping a half-dead singed man in a scorched field of a destroyed residential area would be quite difficult to explain. Or maybe based off Basil's report it wouldn't have been but that was a chance he wasn't willing to take.

In his defence, when he saw a large man with bulging, mutating arms about to kill screaming children trapped beneath the remnants of a house, his instincts took over his rationality. He surprised even himself on how quickly he melted the ice mid-impact. The downside to that was the sudden burst of Sky flames he unleashed, the force rippling through his arm like tectonic plates, giving him a temporary but still quite painful recoil.

“I don’t regret it though,” he said to himself staring far off towards the unconscious man partially buried in the rubble.

He had made sure to keep him alive. He hated to get blood on his hands, much less a life, and as he learned throughout the years, sometimes living was crueller than death. Not that he relished in another's misery—that was favoured more between his Mists. But having seen the cruelty of the mafia, his sympathy for those undeserving waned day by day.

"No, no, no." He chased those thoughts away with a shake of his head. No need for such dark thoughts in a new world.

Tsuna blew away the dust and debris on his shoulders, knowing that his time in the shower today wouldn’t be short. That is if he could find wherever this "hero agency" Basil set up was located.

"But more importantly..."

He glanced over at the children, expecting to see either fear or shock on their faces. He blinked widely when, the little boy, instead, looked up at him with such adoration he swore he could see stars sparkling in his eyes. Despite his torn clothes revealing the nasty cuts and bruises on his skin, it seemed that the boy couldn't feel it through the... admiration?

Tsuna furrowed his brows, a wave of anxiety and worry hitting him. He hadn’t had people, much less children, look at him like that in a long while. Not that it was unwelcomed but... Did the children of this world see fights so often that they became desensitized to violence? Or was it because the attempted murderer's body was not within their sight? Wouldn't children normally be frightened? Though he shouldn't be the one talking about "normality".

“T—Thank you!” Natsuo said, pulling Tsuna's mantle closer to him. “What hero are you?” Before Tsuna could even answer, he gasped, his goggling face souring. “My sister! We need to get her to auntie’s!”

Tsuna kneeled down, getting a closer look at the teen lying unconscious on the ground. Her fingers were a blazing red with pale discolouration at the tips, breathing heavily and twitching erratically. He clicked his tongue, covering her body with his mantle. Thankfully her skin didn’t reach deep frostbite, but a stage somewhere between frostnip and superficial frostbite. Not ideal but reversible without permanently damaging her body.

“How did this happen?” he asked as he sent a jet of flames into his Sun ring. “Is this from her pow—Quirk?”

Natsuo nodded solemnly, biting his lips and balling his shirt as if to contain his guilt. “She protected us from being crushed.”

“You have an amazing sister.” He gave a gentle, reassuring pat on his shoulder. “Don't worry, everything will be fine. She's just unconscious. I promise she’ll be okay…?”

“N—Natsuo!” he said after a slight pause. “And my sister’s name is Fuyumi. Who are you?”

Odd. Given names only?

“You can call me Cielo,” he replied as he took a look at the boy’s wounds. Dark bruises and congealed blood; nothing that couldn’t be naturally healed within a week or two. “I can heal her but make sure to have your aunt get your sister checked out by a doctor later, okay?”

As Tsuna felt his Sky Flames harmonizing with the Sun Flames through the conduit, he gently pressed his hands over her cloaked body, insuring her skin didn’t get into direct contact with his Flames. The harmonization factor of his Sky Flames made him able to wield his Sun with greater accuracy but he lacked the skill and control Ryohei had. According to Basil’s report, it seemed that the people of this world lacked Flames. Meaning, he didn’t know what direct contact between Flames and the residents of this universe would do outside of combat. And both men weren’t one to experiment on the innocent, much less children. It was for that reason Tsuna didn’t heal Natsuo immediately (besides the greater urgency of Fuyumi's injuries). His mantle acted as the buffer that would help regulate his output and keep her warm.

Natsuo gathered a fistful of Tsuna’s shirt, looking anxiously at his flames. He squirmed at the weird coloured fire going anywhere near his sister but this hero had helped them. So he must know what he was doing, right? Besides, something inside him compelled him to put his trust in this adult. But the fire...

Sensing his unease, Tsuna crouched, angling his body slightly towards the boy, making him seem smaller and more open.

“Don’t worry, these flames don’t hurt people. It’s not like normal fire.”

Tsuna placed a hand on his chest, Flames flickering with specks of blinking, starry light. He kept his hand on his shirt for a while with a disarming smile, letting the anxious boy see that he wasn’t bluffing.

“See?" With a theatrical flick of his wrist, he waved the Flames away. "Can’t feel a thing!” he said cheerfully.

Natsuo still looked at him apprehensively, his eyes jumping between the mysterious yellow fire seemingly evaporating into the mantle and the tension slowly loosening on Fuyumi’s face. After a few tense seconds, his shoulders lowered a bit and nodded, balling his hands so he wouldn’t be tempted to stick his finger into the flames. Even if it was safe, it was rude to just… stick your hand into someone’s Quirk like that.

“You both are so incredibly brave,” Tsuna said, trying to ease his mind. “You both did so well protecting each other.”

Natsuo whimpered—Fuck, Tsuna thought—lips quivering as he inhaled sharply through his nose.

“M—My sister’s the one who protected us,” he lamented as he rubbed his wet eyes, trying desperately to act tough, “I didn’t do a—anything! I led the villain to us because I kept talking! It’s my fault she—!”

Tsuna gently took his hand into his, the latter of whom gripped his hand like a lifeline, his tears cascading down his cheeks. His hand felt so small in his. He waited patiently until Natsuo got it all out of his system, only interrupting when he got too self-deprecating, countering his guilt with disapproval and encouragement. Though he didn’t realize it, for Natsuo, he couldn’t help but appreciate an adult who didn’t shush him at the first sign of a tear.

Tsuna stopped his Flames after his intuition sensed he’d done enough, scooting closer to Natsuo and slowly coaxing him into a hug as not to frighten him. Natsuo immediately clung onto his suit, the trembling boy desperately seeking a stable source of comfort.

“It’s also because of you that I knew where to look,” he reassured him, “your sister was saved because of you.”

That wasn’t a complete lie. He could’ve found them through his hyper intuition but the screaming was definitely faster. Not to mention that it was good to remind children that they should alert others when in danger.

“If it weren’t for you, I may have still been searching. In dire situations, every second counts. You saved your family and yourself. Don’t forget that.”

“...I still should’ve stayed quiet,” he said into his shoulder, voice muffled. “'Keep quiet. Don’t attract attention. Never let him know your location,' my big brother told me that once. I—I got Fuyumi hurt because of me.”

That… that advice was very specific, Tsuna noticed. Perhaps sharing such safety precautions were normal in this world?

“Sometimes we make mistakes, some more serious than others. The line between bravery and foolishness is very thin,” Tsuna assented, “but who I saw wasn’t a fool who gave up; the person I saw was brave, fighting past their fears against someone more than twice their size. You were backed up against the wall but you still kept your pride.”

Natsuo tilted his head, his puffy face peeking out, rubbing his swollen eyes on the pad of his suit. “Pride…?”

“Pride"—he smiled when Natsuo titled his head—"isn’t about being the strongest or smartest,” he clarified.

“It’s not?” he questioned, perplexed as if the very idea was a myth.

It was easy to say that pride wasn't solely based on strength or status but it was hard to demonstrate it; mostly because people based their worth on outdated standards of society instead of themselves. Takeshi was that way when they first met. His pride hung solely on a frayed piece rope dangling on the whim of others. Tsuna wasn't sure exactly when but somewhere down the line, Takeshi said 'fuck you,' climbed the rope, and abandoned the idea of being the best for others. Ryohei and Hayato helped for sure. The former was straightforward to a fault, sometimes literally, always giving reminders and pep talks about self-improvement. In Tsuna's case, he lectured him about how he should not drink the equivalent of sixteen espresso shots before noon (Tsuna blames the Acrobaleno). The former was who he can affectionately call a cat to Takeshi's dog. Although they bickered constantly, they complimented the each other's faults well.

Speaking of, Hayato had a tougher look on self-improvement but his pride also centred around himself. Others may look at their relationship and say it was solely based on subservience and that assumption was correct—at first. As the Vongola's right hand, he didn't take pride in solely following his boss but in his loyalty to his role. It was a thin line, but a distinction nevertheless. What made his pride different from dependancy was that he recognized his own autonomy and chose to protect his Family. There was a difference between living for others and with others.

Luckily, most of his friends had strong personalities, although it's because of said personalities that gave Tsuna his daily migraines. Regardless, their pride didn't stem from pleasing people but improving themselves—again, that was a double-edged sword considering the more... prideful members of his Family.

“Your pride is what makes you, you. It's what’s most important to you," Tsuna finally said. "It’s not something arbitrary set up by others, but the standard you set for yourself to become better. There's no shame in having your pride be with your loved ones.”

Natsuo blinked owlishly in response.

Tsuna let out a chuckle, ruffling the boy’s head. “Sorry, that was a bit complicated, right? Well, what or who is important in your life? For me, it’s my family and my promise to protect them. Because they've been with me, I've gotten better as a person.”

Natsuo went quiet with drying cheeks, his brows furrowed and lips pursed. Tsuna mentally patted himself on the back for successfully distracting the child. 

“My siblings and mom and auntie,” he replied after a long pause, “they don’t hurt me. Some heroes too. The nice ones.”

“Such a low standard,” Tsuna quietly contemplated.

“Then?” He nodded his head towards Fuyumi sleeping soundly next to them. “You protected your pride.”

“But—”

“You didn’t give up on those you care about and sometimes that’s enough. Let’s think about it this way: if you gave up on your pride, your sister and yourself, what would’ve happened? Were you just going to shut your eyes and hope for the best? Allow him to do whatever he wanted? Were you going to accept that man and why he chased after you both?”

“No!” Natsuo snapped, furious at the mere insinuation that he would think such a thing. “Of course not! He came to us and for stupid reasons and—!” 

“See?” Tsuna stopped him with a proud grin, coaxing the boy to calm down before he felt the wrath of an eleven-year-old. “Just by standing up for yourself you defied him. You didn’t roll over and take it, you took the situation into your own hands. You took away what people like them want: control and power. Just by defending your pride, you defeated that man.” Tsuna gave him a look of admiration and respect, staring directly into his eyes. “Look, who’s the person standing in front of me, the person who can say they stood up for others like a true hero: that man or you?”

"I—Um..." Natsuo opened and closed his mouth like a fish, suddenly finding the ground very interesting.

"Hmmm?" Tsuna angled his head, catching Natsuo's line of sight. "Well?" he asked coyly.

He squeaked, burying himself back into his shoulder blade, his ears glowing a soft red as Tsuna chuckled airily at his sudden timidity. 

“Well?” He nudged the boy, teasing yet completely serious. “Who?”

“M—Me...” he stammered.

Tsuna hummed, giving his best ‘old man’ impression. “I couldn’t quite hear that with these ageing ears. Who? Who was this brave, young hero who saved his—”

“Me!” he blurted out if only to escape this embarrassing situation.

Tsuna laughed mirthfully, patting his back as an apology. “That’s right. You.”

Natsuo’s squeals came out muffled but once he calmed down, his mind finally registering his words, he pressed his little fingers onto his lip, a shy smile unknowingly meeting his blushing cheeks and red eyes.

“Me...” he whispered disbelievingly as if his tongue was disconnected from his body.

Once Tsuna saw Fuyumi’s complexion had returned (and Natsuo released his grip), he wrapped her in his mantle and gingerly lifted her up with one arm, making sure her neck and head was properly supported. Natsuo, on the other hand, goggled at Fuyumi’s non-blistered, healthy skin peeking through the fabric. It was like she never overused her Quirk in the first place!

He leaned towards her, Tsuna kneeling on one leg so he could see her better. Natsuo ran his finger from her forehead to her cheek, skin free of cuts and warm to the touch. He pulled the cloak lower in disbelief to see her unblemished skin as if the piece of fabric was hiding all her wounds. Besides some dried blood and grime, all her injuries were gone! Twitches and erratic breathing were replaced by soft snores, the only evidence left of the ordeal being the damp and tattered clothes she wore.

If he weren’t so emotionally spent, he would’ve cried again.

“You really did heal her… you really did heal her!” he repeated just to convince himself. A huge grin couldn’t help but stretch his lips as he hugged her, his small body unable to contain the joy and excitement welling within him.

Tsuna turned his head away from the bouncing boy and let out an amused snort, finding the excited boy adorable. It reminded him of Lambo when he was a toddler. Taking on a more serious face, he was just happy that he was able to help them. He gave a reassuring glance, nodding his head towards the crowd of people in the distance standing far away from the rather large destruction site.

“Let’s go find your aunt, okay?” he said as he offered his free hand.

Natsuo nodded eagerly, taking his hand as Tsuna carefully guided him through the uneven terrain.

“You really healed her with fire! Is that your Quirk? Healing fire?” Natsuo rattled off, fumbling over his words. “That’s so cool! I’ve never seen that before! What’s your hero name? Are you an underground hero? I saw orange fire before. Is that also your Quirk? Do you have two Quirks? My little brother also has two Quirks. But he has ice and fire instead of healing fire and normal fire. How does your yellow fire heal people? How come it doesn’t burn?”

“My flames aren’t like normal fire. And yes, both flames are part of my Quirk.” He felt a bit odd talking so freely like this without the Vindice’s chilling presence lingering behind him. “You mentioned that your brother can use ice and fire? That's cool. I can too.”

He gasped. “So you have three Quirks!? I didn’t know that could even happen. Does it hurt you? Does it hurt?” he asked, pulling on his hand with a troubled face.

“No, not if I don’t misuse it." His first meeting with Natsu was not exactly his proudest moment. "Though to be fair, anything can be lethal in the wrong circumstances—especially in Reborn's hands, cazzo." He whispered that last part. "Just think of my power as energies that only look like fire and ice.”

He bit back a grin at Natsuo’s innocent confusion.

"Natsuo! Fuyumi!”

“Auntie!”

Natsuo nearly tripped on a piece of rubble running towards his guardian, hugging her tightly as Tsuna made his way down, careful not to jostle the sleeping girl.

“Oh, oh! Thank God you’re alright!” she cried, gripping him as if he might disappear at any second. “If something happened to you, I—Fuyumi!” She swerved her head around frantically. “Where’s your sister?”

Natsuo pointed to Tsuna who was carefully making his way down, giving a reassuring smile towards the distressed woman.

“I apologize, Miss. I didn’t want to wake her,” he informed her as she ran up to him. “She’ll be fine, but please take her to your family doctor just in case.”

“Fuyumi... Thank goodness,” she muttered, shoulders dropping as she exhaled. She ran her hand through Fuyumi’s hair, the latter sleeping soundly. “Oh… Thank you so much…?”

“His name is Chee-l-lo!” Natsuo piped in.

“Cheello...?”

“Cielo,” Tsuna corrected in a more Japanese accent, “It’s Italian. Anyways, may I help escort you all somewhere safer? I wouldn’t want to wake Miss Fuyumi and if bast—villains like him specifically targeted these children…” They were either from an important family, pissed off the wrong people, or both.

Tsuna’s eyes burned a fierce orange. Mercy would only be given to those who at least had a concept of basic human compassion. Still, Tsuna was a relatively peaceful person whose conscious tugged at his heart every time he had to do something unsavoury. So he showed that man a bit of mercy if only to give a chance at redemption. If he were anyone else, that man wouldn't have gotten off with the same generosities he gave—of broken bones and third-degree burns, also maybe some mild to severe traumatic brain injury. Again, mercy.

Quickly he hid his anger behind his smiling mask. “I would like to guide you all to a safer place if you’ll allow me.”

“You’ve already done so much...” She bit her lips, her gaze bouncing from him to the children.

Sensing her reluctance Natsuo piped in again, defending the "hero".

"He can do it! Auntie! You should’ve seen him! He had this cool fire Quirk! He beat up the villain and swoosh"—he swung his fist in an arc—“we were out of the hole! And this yellow one where he healed Fuyumi with these sparkling lights and it was so awesome!” he rambled incoherently with short breaths.

Meanwhile, she looked at him as if he was replaced by some lookalike. Natsuo was an excitable boy, especially when comparing him to his siblings, but he was never this animated. And most importantly, he would never talk about a fire Quirk this passionately.

She turned to look at the man in front of her. He was meticulously dressed in an expensive-looking suit and tie. Although he just came out a destroyed site, his clothes were clean and didn’t have a single scratch on him. Despite looking like one of Enji’s business associates, he had an air around him that felt… approachable, vulnerable even.

“Then if it’s not much trouble...”

“Please, it’s no trouble at all. I can’t turn a blind eye on a situation I can clearly aid in.”

She wondered if this was how real heroes acted.

Chapter Text

“Please make yourself at home. I’ll bring you some tea,” Yuki, the children’s aunt, said giving a courtesy bow.

Tsuna nodded his head in thanks, sitting down near the corner of the patio.

As he heard the doors slide close, he took a deep breath, a sense of nostalgia hitting him. He hadn’t been outside of Italy, much less Japan, for leisure in a long time. It wasn’t voluntary, yes, but years of living as a Vongla taught him to take things into stride. It was slightly different, but the air was familiar nevertheless. He was offered a traditional Japanese room facing the sea, well-maintained and clearly owned by a wealthy family. It reminded him of Kyoya’s Foundation.

“Hmm… I wonder if the mafia would be prevalent in this world as well. Probably not considering heroism is an actual profession. A world where heroes and villains are real, huh?” he sighed, leaning his back against the wall. 

He could see so much going wrong with a society primarily based on the blind trust of heroism—whatever that meant. Either the mentality of this world worked in ways Tsuna was unfamiliar with or the faults in the system were hidden under all that bravado.

“Isn’t just basically renaming? What’s the difference between a mafia boss and a villain?” Tsuna mumbled to himself. “At least Basil would’ve been able to forge the necessary documents for me. I’ll just have to survive until I get briefed at Musustafu, was it? I should ask Yuki for a map.”

He stroked Natsuo’s head, the latter of which was sleeping soundly on the former’s lap. Halfway through the trip, Tsuna carried him in his other arm (much to the amazement and embarrassment of Yuki) as the adrenaline wore off. Since then, Fuyumi had been moved to another room with the family doctor while Natsuo clung to his shirt like a baby sloth. He didn’t mind it. It reminded him of the past; when Lambo or I-pin used to sleep on him after they moved to Italy. Though Natsuo was noticeably calmer than the two.

Tsuna lifted his hand as he felt Natsuo begin to stir.

“Mom…?” Natsuo groaned, wiping his tired eyes. He yawned, slowly taking a moment to adjust to his surroundings before his eye blew wide staring at Tsuna.

“Hey,” Tsuna said gently, “your sister is just in the other room. Still tired?”

He nodded, looking at Tsuna as if he was an alien (which wasn’t too far from the truth) in awe, slightly embarrassed, but mostly confused.

Tsuna tilted his head. “What’s wrong?” 

Natsuo fiddled with his fingers, unsure if he could say what he thought. The last time he said about a Quirk, he got those eyes. Cold, uncaring, annoyed. It wasn’t just him; he knew Toya and Fuyumi felt it too—that fear. It only took a side glance to paralyze them. It was a different sort of fear than a villain attack, it felt more haunting because it felt like it was their fault for asking something “stupid”. But it wasn’t! It wasn't their fault! All he wanted was to make his parents proud, to follow in his father’s footsteps.

He took a quick glance at Tsuna and bit his lips in an uncertain manner. Cielo isn’t like him at all —he thought— he’s like All Might. He’s super nice and kinda like mom.

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to,” Tsuna assured. The last thing he wanted to do was give the boy anxiety. “It’s okay to say no.”

Natsuo leaned into his shoulder, slowly reaching for his mantle. “I’ve never met a hero as cool and nice as you, Cielo.” Once he realized that Tsuna wasn’t stopping him, little by little, he started to gain a little more confidence, grabbing and prodding at the fabric. “I couldn’t see it really good but I saw that whoosh of fire and that villain was down. Then like it was warm like a winter blanket but like around the heart. Then, like the yellow— I know you said it was your Quirk but— How did you get us out of there?”

Thank goodness he had previously worked with children before. Their tongues could never quite catch up to their thoughts. Even so, he couldn’t exactly divulge all of the Vongola’s secrets even if this was a whole other universe.

“Well, I’m pretty fast and as I said before, my flames are a bit different than normal fire.”

“Yeah! Your fire was like sparkly and super bright like a highlighter and went fuuwahhh! ” He stretched out his arms widely with fistfuls of his cape still in hand as Tsuna chuckled at the adorable display. “I’ve only seen burning fire... Hot fire. Fire that’s so hot, you can’t get near it.”

Tsuna’s hyper intuition was ringing in the back of his head as he saw the boy swaddle himself in his cloak—almost as if he was using him as protection from his own memories.

“My Flames can hurt others but I know when and where to use my pow— Quirk. Fire isn’t scary but the person using it might be.”

Natsuo buried his nose into his mantle, nodding knowingly.

“Say,” he said, trying to change the topic, “you said that you wanted to know more about me, right?”

He peeked out, gazing at him with interest.

“Then let’s play a game!”

“A game?”

Tsuna teasingly poked Natsuo’s cheek through the heavy cloth, coaxing him to come out. “We’ll go back and forth asking one question. The only rule is that we can pass on a question we don’t want to answer. I’ll go first: what’s your Quirk? Is it something ice related?”

He blinked, head popping out of his mantle like a meerkat. “How did you know?” he whispered.

“I’m all-knowing,” he teased with a smile.

Okay, wow. He felt a shudder there. Reborn was definitely not a good influence on him.

“I guessed from seeing your sister. It's your turn now.”

Natsuo hummed, pursing his lips before looking back at him. “Why’s your hero name Cielo? Don't heroes have name with like, a bang?”

He supposed he was right. If heroes were basically glorified celebrities with supernatural powers, then it was basically the "brightest star wins" situation, wasn't it?

“I don't like to stand out very much and it was a name given to me by a close friend— well, actually the second name." Because "Grande re del Cielo" sounded a bit too pretentious for his tastes.

"That's nice. It doesn't sound Japanese. Is it American?"

He shook his head. "It's Italian."

“Italian? What language is that?”

Oh boy. How to explain the different history, dialects, and intricacies of a country’s tongue to a child. “It’s the language of Italy, Europe”—such a simple explanation from a simple man— “it’s pretty far away from Japan.”

Natsuo raised his hand like he was in class. “I know Europe!”

“Really? You must know a lot, Natsuo.”

“Yeah! Me and Fuyumi and auntie went there once! But we didn’t go there. We went to uh… Sweden? It was really different but I liked it! I saw really cool heroes and they spoke with an accent. Oh! And we were near the ocean and I built a sandcastle!”

“Sounds fun!” Tsuna said equally as enthusiastic. “Do you like the sea?”

He nodded his head eagerly. “The ocean is so cool. There’s sharks and stuff. I know a lot about the sea.”

“Really? What do you know about the sea?”

“It’s super deep like you can sink a whole city in it and it’ll never fill up! Like Atlantis! And I know lots of animals! I know jellyfish, they’re squishy and are like ninety-five percent water. And there's more than a thousand types of fish! I know the yellow tang. I know—”

Natsuo listed off an extensive amount of aquatic animal names that Tsuna had never heard of before, nodding as if he knew what the fish with the “neon frisbee skirt fin” was. He even said some with their scientific names which made Tsuna wonder if he heard his words correctly through his slur of excited ramblings. It reminded him of how excitable Hayato could be with his research on UMAs or Takeshi with the results of the latest baseball game.

“Ah!” Natsuo placed a hand over his mouth and stared at Tsuna. “Tell me about Italy. What does your hero name mean? Does it mean fire?”

“Nope." Tsuna pointed at the window. "Cielo means sky.” 

“Sky? Why?”

Yay, another mafia-related question! “Well, where I’m from, I lead a hero agency…?”

“I knew it!”

Okay, so he did use that term correctly. “To me, this agency is more like a family.”

“A family? You work with your family?” Natsuo’s tone became more sombre, a slight sense of disbelief in his words. “Do… Do you ever fight?”

Tsuna exhaled, slumping his shoulders in defeat. “All the time. Sometimes I can’t get them to stop fighting—!”

Tsuna quickly shut his mouth. This was no time to complain to an eleven-year-old.

“But at the end of the day, we’re family. Sure, we get on each other’s nerves and we often disagree on how we should handle things"—sometimes a bit too much—"but it doesn’t come at the expense of our bonds.”

Natsuo twiddled his thumbs. “So…if they made you mad, you’d still like them?”

“Of course!” Tsuna replied instantly. “Everyone of my friends and family is worth more to me than anything in this world. We don’t have to be blood-related to care.” He saw conflicting emotions in the boy’s eyes. “Didn’t you say you loved your sister and aunt?”

“N—No!” Natsuo averted his gaze, slightly defensive. “I care about them but I’m too old to love! That’s for babies!”

He rose his brow. Did children think like this at this age? “Why do you think love has an age? You can be a hundred and still love your family and friends. How old do you think I am?”

“Uh…" He squinted his eyes. "Like eighteen?”

His stomach tensed, trying to contain his laughter. “I’m much older than that.”

“I— I meant forty!”

Oh, children and their sense of time. “I’m twenty-five.”

He gasped. “You’re twenty-five??”

Tsuna wasn’t sure if such a number actually registered in his mind or it was because he had never met someone his age before.

“Yep, twenty-five and still loving my family and friends.”

It actually made him a bit sad that the boy was ashamed to openly admit he loved his family. He couldn’t tell if it was a coping mechanism or something else. Briefly, he wondered what history this household held.

“You don’t need to be afraid to admit you care for others. After all, for me, my family and friends are the reason why I’m still here.”

Natsuo blushed. “Then um... my pride... mom… and my brothers.” Oof. There was a lot to unpack there.

“And I’m sure they love you too.”

He hummed doubtingly. “I don’t think my mom does. But I’d be nice if she did.”

Oh. There was a lot to unpack there.

He had his suspicions but Tsuna really hoped that this wasn't another case like Chrome's. At least his situation was better than Chrome's considering that he had people who cared for him—now. Now that he thought about it, where were the parents? He's gathered that Natsuo wasn't close to his parents but was it another case of child neglect due to unfortunate circumstances, obligation, or...?

“Natsuo?”

“Ya?”

“I said this before but I think you’re really brave and strong. Giving others your kindness isn’t easy. Even for adults, sometimes especially for adults, that’s hard to do. You did something not even some adults can do—”

Tsuna nearly choked on his words as Natsuo slammed his head into his chest, making a sound between a squeal and whine.

Natsuo was practically vibrating at this point. He didn’t have a fire Quirk but he sure as hell could feel the heat radiating from his ears to his cheeks. He never had anyone so interested in what he was saying. He never had someone make him feel right for what he was saying. Sure he had people who loved him wholeheartedly like Fuyumi or his aunt, but even they shushed him at times, making him feel bad for asking.

Although it wouldn’t be until much, much later that he realized that they this out of concern for his safety just in case he said something to anger his father. However, to the eleven-year-old boy right now, he could only feel betrayed and hurt. He still loved them of course, but he just couldn’t get himself to trust them wholeheartedly no matter how hard he tried.

Cielo was different. No— that wasn't right. He wasn't different from everyone else. He was what everyone was like before. He just felt like warmth and comfort. Something inside him compelled him to trust this man and it felt natural too. He didn’t speak down to him. He didn’t coddle him. He just talked to him. He hadn’t felt like this since his father split his family.

Natsuo untangled himself from the mess of the cape, getting off his lap, and sitting in front of him. “I think you’re my favourite hero after All Might, Cielo.”

“Really? Even though you just met me?”

He wasn’t one to talk. He’s had people willingly join his family within twenty-four hours of knowing each other.

“You’re super cool. But All Might is the strongest hero and my dad hates him because he can’t beat him. So it just feels right.”

Ahh, preadolescent grudge to one’s own father. He could relate.

“Can you show me your Quirk again? The yellow sparkly one, the one you healed my sister with.”

Tsuna ran through a million scenarios in his head decided that it would be fine as long as he didn’t use his Flames on him.

“Okay, but don’t touch the flames, okay?”

“Why? I thought they weren’t the burn-y kind?”

“They aren’t”—technically—“but what my flames do is accelerate growth in cells.”

“Isn’t that good? Cells need to grow?”

“But too much and they die. I’m sure I won’t hurt you, but I want to make sure you stay safe.” That, and to avoid any misunderstandings if someone happens to walk in. “Promise me you’ll only look, okay?”

He grinned, bouncing on his legs.

Tsuna stretched his right arm in front of him, sending a small stream of flames into his ring. Within a second, the ring sparked, engulfed in bright yellow Sun flames with small stars peppering the fire. He controlled his output so the flames were no bigger than his hands. To be honest, Tsuna was fairly certain that he had enough control of his Sun flames (courtesy of Reborn) to heal Natsuo but he didn’t want to risk him by testing it out.

Natsuo, with the star mirroring in his eyes, took short, excited breaths. As he leaned his head in, Tsuna placed his arm as a guard so that he couldn’t accidentally faceplant directly into his flames. Entranced, Natsuo didn't even notice, his knees pressing into Tsuna's thighs.

“It’s so close but it doesn’t feel hot! What are those stars for? Do you feel hot? Because when I use my Quirk, I feel cold. It just doesn't hurt until I use A LOT.”

“That’s just how my flames look and no, I don’t feel hot. A little warm maybe?”

“But fire doesn’t work like that! You have magical fire,” he said resolutely.

Tsuna nodded wordlessly. It wasn’t too far off from the truth.

For the next few minutes, the two went from one to another, continuing their questions game—often indulging in harmless quips on Endeavor. He’d almost forgotten how savage kids can be. Though he wasn’t one to meddle in another family’s affairs, ha, his opinion on this man wasn’t very high—maybe on par with his own father.

Hearing footsteps, Tsuna waved his Flames away, the remaining embers dancing in the air before being blown out. The door slid open, Yuki entering the room with a few people trailing behind her.

“I’m so sorry it took so long but I’ve brought some snacks— Natsuo! Don’t be rude to our guest! Get down now.”

Tsuna waved his hand nonchalantly. “It’s fine, Miss Yuki.” He lifted Natsuo up, tucking his hands under his arms and placing him next to him.

The people who came in with Yuki, the house attendants, set up a nice table with tea and snacks, quickly bowing before they left.

“How’s Miss Fuyumi?” he asked, handing Natsuo the red bean mochi he was drooling at.

“She’s fine. The skin around her fingertips hardened but it isn’t irreversible with routinely care. Before she went back to sleep, she filled me in on what happened and I— I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done.”

“Please, I’m just glad she’s okay.”

“Yes, speaking of…" She gave Natsuo a disapproving stare. "Natsuo, go get your wounds cleaned up and change out of those clothes.”

He looked at Tsuna then back at his aunt. “Now? Do I have to? I can do that later.”

“Natsuo...”

Tsuna took a sip of his tea, intervening before an argument broke out. “Listen to your aunt. I promise I’ll still be here by the time you’re back.”

He puffed out his cheeks but darted towards the door. “You promised!” he said as he left.

Yuki sighed into her cup. “I’m so sorry for all this inconvenience we’ve caused you.”

“There’s really no reason to apologize. He’s just an energetic boy.”

“You seem to be good with children Mister Cielo.”

A friendly comment or a prying question?

“Just Cielo is fine. And I’ve taken care of a few kids before. If I may change the topic, what happened to the... villain?”

Saying "the villain" felt weird. It made him sound cartoonish compared to what he actually was: an attempted first-degree murderer.

“He’s been detained by the police,” she said coldly.

“I imagine I have to be taken for questioning, correct?” She nodded.

Tsuna debated whether or not to ask but ultimately, if he was going to stay here he needed to know his surroundings. That, and even if he said he didn't like meddling in other's problems, he couldn't turn a blind eye to the people in front of him. Even if he did, his damn hyper intuition would just nag at him as if he was back in school with a paper he procrastinated on until the week of the deadline.

“Please feel free to pass this question but, are the kids targeted often?”

Children bounced back quickly but in situations like this, they usually didn't—at least not as fast as Natsuo did. He’s seen kids, and he’s seen what a traumatic event could do to someone so young and impressionable. Tsuna wondered if the issue lied in their upbringing or the very real possibility that they, like him, had targets on their backs growing up. If he connected his dots correctly, he deducted that these kids were either from an influential or powerful family—legal or underground he wasn’t sure of.

“It’s natural because of their father, Endeavor,” she spat out, emphasizing her distaste in the word, “father”.

“I assume he’s either a villain or a hero?”

“You… You don’t know Endeavor?”

“I should’ve probably asked for a copy of Basil’s report before teasing Reborn,” he thought.

Without missing a beat, he replied, “I’ve been out of the country for quite some time so I’m afraid I’m a little out of touch with society.”

“Ah, of course." She didn't sound too convinced but there, at least, wasn't suspicion in her voice. "Forgive me, I’m unfamiliar with how underground heroes operate.”

Yay, terms he doesn’t know the full definition and context of! This was just soon going to become a giant word game for Tsuna, wasn’t it?

“How did you know?”

“I did my research. Excuse me but I'd done some background checks done before you got here,” she stated without an ounce of remorse.

“Background checks?”—that was it? Also, hey Vongola? Basil? How the hell are we this prepared??—“I see, you’re very thorough,” he confirmed lightly, taking another sip.

Yuki stared back at him, surprise on her face for a brief moment. “Most people would be offended.”

“I’m not one to discourage others from looking out for their families. Besides I didn’t even expect to be invited in, much less given blind faith.”

Considering how dangerously oblivious Namimori was, and how crazy the mafia was, a healthy amount of suspicion was actually a breath of fresh air for him. And though this may have been normal, maybe even encouraged, for Tsuna, to Yuki this was surprising considering that he was a “hero”. Society had been built on the unwavering faith in them after all. Their culture, for better or for worse, was built on the image and marketability of heroes. She was no different when she was younger. But then her sister married that man and she saw the flaws of such a system. She wondered if this mentality was due to him being a genuinely good person, an underground hero who tended to avoid the spotlight, or both.

“Endeavor is the number two hero in Japan and the children’s father. Because of this, he has villains who try to kidnap or hurt them.”

He hummed. He doubted that the murderer would go so far just for notoriety. “Though I didn’t hear the full story, it seemed like the villain held a personal grudge against this man.”

She took the teapot, pouring another cup for both of them. “Sad to say, I wouldn’t even blame him. Endeavor isn’t exactly known for his sociability. Of course, that’s no excuse to go after innocent children. But I’m sure this whole issue would’ve been resolved by a simpler solution or never happened in the first place if not for his choice words and actions.” She took a sip. “Sometimes I wonder if all that muscle left no room for his brains.”

Oh, he liked her. Calm, and tactful in their insults. If Reborn saw how physically and vocally composed she was while hiding her contempt, he would’ve demanded her to join the Vongola on the spot.

“Anyways, I’d like to thank you again for taking care of the children. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Natsuo this happy. He wasn’t feeling like his usual self lately." She turned towards the door, the coldness of her face melting away, smiling fondly. "If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask.”

“Actually, if it’s not too much trouble, can you tell me where Musutafu City is located? I’ve been away for so long that Japan looks like a whole new world to me.”

Her eyelids fluttered in surprise. “Who doesn't? It's the beacon of heroes in Japan after all. Actually, Fuyumi is heading back to Musustafu in about two weeks. I can have you arranged to go then. If not, I’ll have a paid cab ready for you. But I suspect Natsuo would like the former better.”

Sly. His intuition was telling him that Natsuo wasn't the only reason why she wanted him to stay for a while. “I don't like asking for favours but for as long as you’ll be willing to host me, I'll stay. Thank you.”

The only reason why he headed there was because he didn’t have a place to stay before Shoichi and Spanner fixed the machine. He wasn’t in a rush or anything. Besides, the further he was from Vongola territory the more distance he had from his impending doom and responsibilities. Not to mention, he could just fabricate an excuse if he needed to get out of here for whatever reason.

“We’ll have guest amenities ready for you within the hour. The east wing is private but otherwise please enjoy your stay here. If you have any questions you can ask the staff.”

Tsuna nodded. “If it’s not rude to ask, this house seems to be very accustomed to visitors.”

“Well, this is one of Endeavor’s summer homes. So the occupants are usually the children, staff, or his guests. Suffice it to say, we’re used to sharing a roof, especially with other heroes. Though this will be the first time we’ve consented to it,” she said exasperatedly. “Ah! I apologize, I’m not usually this oversharing...”

No, he’s sorry for his Sky’s harmony factor. “I feel like this comprises most of our conversation, but really there’s no need for you to apologize to me. I’m happy to lend an ear.”

The two came to a comfortable silence, enjoying their refreshments until Natsuo came barging in with fresh bandages and one slipper missing asking him to show off his Quirk again.

Chapter Text

When Fuyumi woke up, she half expected to see the face of God smiling down at her. But instead, she saw the face of her younger brother and a charming stranger.

Eh… close second.

“You’re awake!” Natsuo leapt into her arms, nearing squeezing the life out of her. “How are you feeling?”

She blinked. And blinked again. Gradually, as her drowsiness faded away, she slowly lifted her hands to her face as if she had woken up in a stranger's body.

“I feel...fine?” she questioned with furrowed brows.

Her eyes trailed over her skin, from her fingertips to her legs. She poked her arm, gasping at how her skin wasn’t two different shades of blue and well… there—still connected to her body. She was exactly the same as before, the only difference being her flakey cuticles and the small bit of skin hardened on her fingertips. She slapped her hands all over herself, making sure she wasn’t hallucinating. She may not have been given any hero training but even she knew that with how far she pushed her Quirk, she shouldn’t be able to freely move, much less come out without any scars or amputations.

Her gaze fell over to her snuggling brother. Gently cupping Natsuo’s face in her hands, she was half relieved that her brother made it out with a few bruises at most. The other half was even more confused as to how he could possibly sustain more injuries than she did.

She gaped, tracing the rim of his healed cuts. “How…?”

Natsuo squealed—Fuyumi flinching at his sudden movement—as if he could finally tell her the secret he’s been desperately hiding for years.

“Cielo did it!” He pointed towards the well-dressed man leaning against the wall, the latter of whom waved at her. “He healed you!”

Natsuo jumped off her, racing towards the man. This must’ve been a regular thing because even before Fuyumi could warn the man, he anticipated Natsuo’s excitement, catching him smoothly before he ran into him. Natsuo pouted as the man placed him down with a teasing smile. He grabbed him by his sleeve and tugged him closer to her bedside.

“He’s the hero who rescued us from that villain!” he said with a sense of pride. Even before she could get a word in Natsuo continued.

“He’s Cielo the Sky Hero! I made that second part up myself! Cielo let me title him because he didn’t have one. Weird, right?”

A hero without a title? “Oh. I guess—?”

“But he’s really cool!” he quickly added as if he dared to hurt his hero’s feelings. “He’s been staying with us since they arrested that villain! His Quirk is super awesome! It’s— It’s like really nice feeling fire with little sparkles in the middle! But then he has this even stronger fire, right? It's so cool!”

He turned towards his hero and nudged him closer to Fuyumi so that he was standing right next to her as if to say, “don’t be shy!” He merely chuckled at Natsuo’s pushiness, still keeping a respectable distance from her.

“I’m glad you’re okay. You must be feeling a little groggy, right?” he asked as he sat down next to her futon with Natsuo climbing on his back. “Sorry about that. My Quirk can take a lot out of a person.”

It usually wasn't for this long. But he attributed that to his inexperience and the people of this universe having a different physiology than his. 

“Now that you mention it...” Her body, although painless, was stiff and mildly aching from bed rest. “How long was I asleep?”

“About three days"—Natsuo climbed higher and sat down on Tsuna so that his legs were draped over his shoulders—"and according to Yuki, you did wake up from time to time but I don’t think you were completely lucid.”

Fuyumi traced her memories. Yes, although the scene was very foggy, she remembered that her aunt took care of her. Pursing her lips, she tried to recollect anything else but the only things she remembered were vague feelings and vivid sensations; like a nostalgic sense of warmth.

Realizing that she had yet to introduce herself, she gave a small bow to Tsuna. “Sorry um— Forgive my manners. Thank you for saving us.”

He gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “I’ve heard enough thanks and apologies from Yuki to last a lifetime. I’m just glad you’re better now.”

“Thank— Oh.” She fiddled with her hands awkwardly, unsure of how to continue the conversation. “Um...”

Natsuo, uneased by the sudden tension, jumped to his feet, running towards the door and slamming it open. She jerked her head towards him with the loud slam of the door, one part curious and the other dreading at the thought of being alone with a stranger.

“N—Natsuo?”

“I know what’ll make you feel better!”

“Wait—!”

Before Fuyumi could utter another word, his footsteps echoed in the distance. She sighed, muttering something about how silly he was before flushing red at the realization that she had a guest in front of her. She turned away, cool hands on her heated cheeks.

“...ice cream.”

Tsuna rose a brow. “Ice cream?”

“I like ice cream,” she said fiddling with her blanket, “it’s my um… comfort food.”

“Ah… I see it runs in the family,” he said, amused. “I like them too, especially the ones filled with sweet red bean. Good thing too because I’m sure Natsuo would fight me for the caramel sea salt.”

He refrained from teasing the girl like he would with I-pin. One of the many things he remembered with being with Haru during his teens was that guilty pleasures were embarrassing to say out loud, even if it was something harmless. Understandable considering that Tsuna wasn’t exactly that loose-lipped himself. This, especially towards strangers who are several years older than you—much less an adult.

She chuckled, a motherly fondness in her voice. “I’ve never seen him so animated.”

“I’ve heard that from Yuki too.” He waved his hands in a nonchalant manner as he saw her shoulders tense. “Hey, don’t have that look, I’m not going to pry in your family matters. It’s none of my business.”

Seeing her surprise, Tsuna confirmed the odd signs he’d been seeing around the house over the past few days. Japanese people held cultural conservatism in high regard, but this wasn’t a showcase of culture, it was years of repressed emotions manifested into red flags. He knew that being an adult male wasn’t exactly the stereotypical picture of kindness and empathy but the way they reacted with awe or surprise when he acted upon the simplest gestures couldn’t help but worry him. It wasn’t even once or twice, but for everything. Helping around the house, cleaning, cooking, taking care of Natsuo, talking respectfully?? If it was just Natsuo maybe he would’ve thought he was just a timid kid in general. But Yuki, Fuyumi, and the staff here also acted in a similar manner. Quiet and subdued; trying their hardest not to be noticed.

“It doesn’t seem like physical abuse, more so neglect and psychological. If the youngest and their mother are in the main house like Natsuo said, then it could mean that their father clearly picks favourites."

He could already feel the anger bubbling beneath his skin.

“To neglect your own children, three of them no less! If Quirks are hereditary, it can be like flame purity marriages. Fire for the father and ice for the mother. Considering that only the youngest seem to possess two Quirks...They’re basically used as breeding projects. Disgusting. You’d think such practices would be outlawed.”

His own father may have been neglectful but at least he tried not to use his own blood for the mafia. He, at least, had the mental capacity to keep them away from his underground dealings (until the inevitable of course).

If there was one good thing that came out of being an overpowered mafia boss, with the Vindice themselves owing him favours, it was that he could enforce some damn morals into that trauma-inducing hellscape. The first thing was enforcing a better system for consequences. Having the Acrobaleno and Millefiore on his side definitely made it so that justice could be served no matter where one ran off to. Many feared his power, he did at times as well. But he’s who the mafia forced into this role and hell if he’s going turn a blind eye just to keep up “traditions”.

Did it always work out? No. Did corrupt governments make the job any easier? Also no. But did he manage to save some innocent people from the mafia? Well, if the lowered percentage of coerced child soldiers were any indication, he’s damn sure he’s made some changes for the better.

“I am here!” Natsuo announced, holding out a bag as he hopped over the door’s threshold. “—with ice cream!”

He took two big leaps towards the two, handing them their favourite flavours. Tsuna thanked the boy as he unwrapped the treat, patting him on the head. Fuyumi looked apprehensive, unsure if being so informal in front of a guest was okay. Gaining a little confidence as the other two showed no hesitation in enjoying themselves, she joined them.

“So Cielo showed me his Quirk, right?” Natsuo said already halfway finished his ice cream. “He’s like Shoto; he can use fire and ice but, like, way cooler. He defeated villains with so many Quirks. Did you know a lot of people in Italy have multiple Quirks?”

“Having multiple Quirks is rare,” she told him slightly confused, side glancing Tsuna.

“I know! But he told me and he’s from Italy!”

“No I didn’t!” Tsuna screamed in his head behind a calm facade.

Natsuo had asked for some hero stories and he told some vague renditions of his previous fights. If he’d known that meant Natsuo misunderstanding his words to place assumptions as facts for an entire race, he would’ve shut his mouth! God, everything thing came down to the extremes with Heroes and Quirks, didn’t it?

Tsuna coughed, grabbing their attention.

“I’ve only been with my close associates and due to my line of work, having multiple Quirks is somewhat natural,” he swiftly explained, “I haven’t been to all of Italy so it was a mistake on my part for the misunderstanding.”

“Ahh… okay. That makes more sense.”

Good. It looks like he avoided suspicion.

Natsuo, with puffed cheeks, stared incredulously at him. He didn’t know why the hero was suddenly so shy but he wouldn’t allow his awesomeness to be left unheard!

“I didn’t even mention the best part!” he proudly exclaimed, missing Tsuna’s widening eyes. “He told me that he made friends with super high ranking villains and turned them into heroes!”

“You… reform high profile villains?” she said disbelievingly, wondering how the hero-villain system worked in Italy. “Into heroes? Do heroes really have that responsibility? Is that even legal?”

Oh, God, smite me now. “I didn’t reform them, exactly. It was more so that the circumstances that led to our battle and subsequent aftermath allowed us to be… working acquaintances. Some of them aren’t even villains but were manipulated into crime or vigilantes.”

“Are vigilantes not illegal in Italy?”

Tsuna hummed, quietly processing the information. “Are vigilantes classified into villains by default? Wait, degrees of vigilantism is illegal almost everywhere.” He really became comfortable in his role, didn’t he? “I guess this means that “villain” is an umbrella term; not a specific criminal classification.”

“Of course vigilantism is dangerous but most do it out of goodwill, no?” He shrugged. “If not then, of course, as an underground hero, I deal with them accordingly.” Yes, swerve around that conversation topic!

Natsuo squinted his eyes, scrutinizing Tsuna, chewing on his icecream stick in frustration. He didn’t understand why the man didn’t flaunt his abilities! All pro heroes were flashy, right? With his Quirk, he could easily be within the top ten ranking heroes in Japan!

Wait… of course! He was an underground hero! To be honest, he didn’t know much about them but from what he’s heard, they were highly secretive. They couldn’t share information with people freely! He was so stupid!

He gasped, hands flying to his mouth. “I told the others about Cielo’s Quirk!” he thought, his guilty conscious chiding him for potentially placing his hero in danger. “B—But it should be okay, right? He didn’t look mad when I asked about his Quirk or told Fuyumi about it...”

He gave quick side glances at Tsuna, unable to meet his eyes with the guilt heavy in his gut.

It really was a shame someone like Cielo was an underground hero. In his eyes, Tsuna’s flashy Quirk was much better suited for the spotlight. He didn’t see the limits of his power but from spending a few days with him, Tsuna instantly became his number one hero. All Might not included, of course.

He observed Tsuna as if in a trance, their conversation becoming nothing but white noise as he recollected the memory of their first meeting. His cool cape, amazing Quirk, incredible speed and power...

“If I had that kind of Quirk maybe I could even beat—"

He stopped that train of thinking right there. He’s seen his father’s fire firsthand. The only person strong enough to beat him was All Might. Cielo may have been kind and powerful but only someone as strong and heroic as All Might could beat him.

For Natsuo, being a Todoroki, being a child of Endeavor was like being stuck at the bottom of a deep hole with raging waterfalls crashing around him. It never touched him, the water circling around him, imprisoning him on the makeshift island. Loud and imposing, he tried to cover his ears and close his eyes to pretend that it wasn’t there but ultimately nothing he did could beat the deafening roar of the water. He tried to scream for help but his voice was drowned out by the waves. He had tried time and time again to climb up, thinking that perhaps it was his fault for being stuck in there. But seeing the top was impossible, let alone trying to escape.

Occasionally, in his little dark hole, he could see glimpses of the radiant sun. Something the water couldn’t hope to touch. When he realized that, staying in here felt a little better. But the sun couldn’t stay forever. And like a one-way mirror, he didn’t dare to cling onto the hope that the sun could see him. No. Now, he could only be content with where he was. It was the best he could hope for. At least the ground was dry and the waves avoided him. It was there, looming over him, but at least it didn’t sweep him up and drown him as it had done with Toya.

But in his hopeless efforts to see the sun, perhaps he forgot to see what always watched over him. Perhaps this time, he could look up at the sky.

Chapter Text

“Excuse me?”

Yuki heard the man on the other side of the line try to hold back a sigh. “Please understand that he's not a patient man. Endeavor has requested to meet the Sky Hero: Cielo for business. Please notify him and send him to our office as soon as possible—within the end of the week would be ideal.”

Would be ideal, he says. Like he even gave her—or him for that matter—a choice.

“I’ll… send a car his way. But whether he agrees to this or not is his choice.”

“Yes but Endeavor himself has requested this.” A threat and a plea. “We’ve already notified his hero agency and it'd be most logical if you send him our way.”

Yuki was not a combative woman—compared to Rei maybe—and her entire family preferred to be passive observers. Though that was a double-edged sword. On one hand, because of her sister’s, what she'd call, sacrifice, their family was well off and living in the most affluent neighbourhoods without any financial troubles. But on the other hand, their passivity allowed for the rift in their family.

But it was too late to go back. Things got too complex now. Words couldn't express the years of subtle and slow suffering. How could one just simply escape an estranged, abusive marriage with the number two hero and four children tying them together? Not that she blamed the children or her sister! This was just a fucked-up situation that was out of her hands now. Perhaps if she was more assertive back then, Rei would be home and happy with a caring husband and children who were—and felt—loved.

Now she had another choice to make. It wasn't as big but it still involved Enji. And hell if she would allow someone uninvolved to be used again. Cielo brought something into this household only an outsider could bring: hope. As cliche and childish it sounded, the man helped Natsuo, and to a lesser extent, Fuyumi. Their household always had a dark cloud hanging over them, like fog, all-encompassing and ever-present. It didn’t suffocate you instantly, it was slow and meticulous, claustrophobic and stifling. Cielo, in that sense, was like a ball of light in an endless stream of fog, a reminder that their situation wasn’t endless; that there were people existing in a place without this fog.

But even a traveller with a flashlight could get lost in the woods. He just a reminder of what was beyond the family, not a solution. And Yuki highly doubted one person could just appear and make years of trauma and neglect disappear.

But he was still there, he was guiding them—especially Natsuo. Fuyumi, by a miracle, had her own guiding lights; her strong ambitions and good friends. Natsuo didn’t. He was much too young to see over the wall of heroes and he lacked a strong support system outside the family. Still, the children would need time and care to completely escape this place but even the flickering embers of the lantern's light was welcomed.

So, for Enji to take away this beacon for the children? To only care when it benefits him? How dare he.

“Considering that Cielo is an underground hero, I fail to see why my brother-in-law”—she hated using that formality but pressing status was a good way to gain superiority—“would want to see him. If he needs him for a mission he can contact him through the proper way, the hero association.”

She smirked at the long pause over the phone. This secretary probably never dealt with someone who defied The Endeavor before. She only felt a little sympathy for the man, he was just doing his job. But so was she. She didn’t raise the children by just obediently rolling over whenever he ordered her around.

“Ma’am you need to understand,” he pressed, “Endeavor has a right to his privacy even from his own family.”

Hah! Probably not to garner attention from the media if something went wrong, more like.

“I’m wondering how you even managed to locate him. He is an underground hero after all. He isn’t one to notify the presses. And certainly, we know that there's currently no one in this household that'd spread the location of an underground hero.”

“Then I’d like to refer you to an article in Quirks on Location,"  he said in a smug tone, "they happened to capture the very moment of his fight. And although the shot isn’t quite ideal, you’d be surprised at technology these days.”

She did. She did see it. It was one of the contributing factors as to why she allowed Cielo to stay here. But she didn’t think Endeavor would’ve bothered to see some local news site.

The photo, taken at a zoomed-in low angle, was indeed blurry from the sheer speed his actions had—his face just barely being visible. In fact, hidden under his cloak, Natsuo’s face was somehow clearer than his. Fuyumi, thankfully, wasn’t it the shot. From what she’s heard from Cielo, she didn’t want to see what happened—much less seeing her injured niece exploited for the consumption of the mass media.

And his Quirk… His Quirk was massive. Bursts of dark orange fire roared out from his hands, the photo perfectly timed to capture the pillars of ice sprouting from the flames. Yuki didn’t know how quick the man was to have melted such an enormous amount of ice as it was gone in the next frame.

“One of our business associates informed us of Endeavor’s son singing his praises throughout his stay. Including the fact that he’s been there for about a week now. Is it so hard to believe that Endeavor would want to thank the hero who saved his children personally?” Yes.

She didn’t believe him for a moment that Enji of all people wanted to meet Cielo just to "thank" him. No, this was a cover for something. But what?

“I’ll inform him but as I said before, the choice is his. I’m merely his host during his stay, not his secretary. If you’d like a definitive answer, please go through the proper channels. Good day, sir.”

“Wait—”

Click. Click.

She placed the phone back into its holder, making sure the recorded conversation was saved in a safe place. She couldn’t see the entire picture but this was all she could do for now. At least if something went wrong there would be evidence.

She may have feared directly defying Enji for her sister’s and the children’s sake but he was a fool to think if he thought she cared so little for others that she’d sacrifice their hero.

Yuki made her way to Tsuna’s room, repeating apologies in her head about involving him in their family drama. She was sure that even a man, no, especially a man like Enji would not bring overt harm to another hero unless he had a legitimate reason. But she’d seen the men that surrounded that man. Slimy investors of the hero association, backdoor politicians, and violent fanatics. He didn’t reciprocate their attention (though his agency might’ve with the first) or even with good, whole-hearted people like Cielo. Bottom line, he never called for another hero. He never had a need to.

So if not for himself then...

“...Shoto?”

“He asked for me?” Tsuna said, taking a sip of his tea.

When he was asked to come to Yuki’s meeting room, he half-expected to get scolded for indulging in Natsuo’s sugar addiction; not to be given a business invitation by a high-ranking hero.

Yuki nodded. “Please feel free to decline.”

That was quick. “I don’t mind, but may ask why?”

A brief flash of disgust flew by her face. “He said it was for business, I’m sorry but you’ll have to get in contact with them due to privacy issues.”

He raised his brow at her odd tone. “I see.”

For “business”? Can you get any more vague than that? Jeez, from the way this household was acting over the past week, he wondered if in this universe the hero world was basically the mafia equivalent to his. Or maybe all systems of power were corrupt and had backdoor dealings, who knows?

Still, to accept or not? The latter was looking more favourable especially since Yuki hinted at him to decline. He just wanted a vacation without someone trying to bother him, dammit! Was that too much to ask? But his hyper intuition was urging him to agree. Something about this situation was too… wrong? Suspicious? Not in a way that would kill him—for once—but almost as if everything that happened was coded for some other hidden objective.

He’d be lying if he'd said he wasn’t curious. He knew his Flames were powerful but this was a national hero, right? So it definitely wasn’t because he was interested in his power. He probably had plenty of powerful people hounding him for notoriety. It couldn’t be to thank him judging from the children’s reactions from the mere mention of their parents. And Tsuna doubted that this was just some miscommunication between generations. Kids processed information differently but misunderstanding their parents' actions definitely wasn’t the issue here. And he always tried to reserve judgement upon others when he hadn’t met them yet but…

Tsuna sighed. It be so easy to ignore this. Just stay here and play with the kids until his famiglia managed to fix the machine. But his life was never easy, was it? No, his life was a clusterfuck speeding down a hill with supernatural powers and murderous people wanting to kill him for his mere existence. This may have been the first time in a long while since he could actually choose what to do and what happens? His damn hyper intuition betrays him! That bastard, he was supposed to be on his side!

Ugh, groaned clicking his tongue. But it'd be good to make a few powerful connections just in case anything happened while he was here. It was one of the first things Reborn taught him: either make good alliances or shut them up for good.

Damn it, he really couldn’t escape his duties, could he?

“I’m... interested,” he said, swirling his cup, “I’ll be at his office two days after my leave. I need to visit my agency first.”

“Of course.”

His eyes flashed a deep orange for a second. “Is there something wrong?”

Her eyes widened a fraction before returning to her normal, calm facade. “No.”

She took a sip of her tea, staring at it contemplatively. She really didn’t want him to accept, did she? She took another sip before looking up at him.

“One thing you should know about Endeavor is that he’s a man known for his power first and foremost.” Her tone took on a sense of urgency that contrasted heavily to her calm voice.

And Tsuna had to bite back a laugh.

“Or so you’ve mentioned before,” he said amused, “thank you for worrying but those types of people don’t scare me anymore. I’ve met people who’d shoot me on sight.”

Xanxus was one such person. Though he’s mellowed out considerably throughout the years—in Varia standards—the man seemed to get a kick out of flexing on him every chance he got. Like when he shot him during the annual Vongola Christmas Gala. Or like when he shot him during their monthly meeting. Or like when he accidentally passed him in the hallway. Or when he decided to take Natsu around the Varia headquarters for the first time and Bester intimidated his poor companion by chasing him down until their Flames burned out. To this day, Tsuna wondered if it was because he formed the bond back when he was still his pathetic middle school self, but Natsu somehow retained his wimpy demeanour outside of combat. Hell, he still couldn’t take out Natsu around Xanxus or Bester unless it was in a fight!

Yuki, seeing the various troubled faces of Tsuna recollecting his memories, poured him another cup. “Life as an underground hero must be quite difficult.”

“It is,” he sighed, downing the entire cup.

Well, just take out the “hero” part and replace it with “mafia don”. At least with this status, no one would question him about the odd things he said when he "accidentally" complained about his life.

Yuki took a look at the clock mounted onto the wall, seeing that it was already far into the night.

“I won’t keep you any longer.” She placed her cup down, bowing a little. “Please have a good night.”

Tsuna bowed his head, getting up. “You too,” he said as he left.

“I’ve never seen you so involved with someone outside the family.”

Yuki opened her eyes to meet Fuyumi’s smile. “Really? I wouldn’t call myself extroverted but I’m not that cold.”

She closed the door behind her, sitting across from her aunt. “I’ve seen you verbally destroy one of dad’s business partners before he could even step a foot into the house.”

“Only to those who deserve it. Even I have my limits.”

She let out a small chuckle. “Anyways, is that really a good idea? I mean, he’s not family so he doesn’t have to go." She looked back at the door as if he was still standing there. "I’m worried for him. I’ve never heard of dad asking for someone before. Does Natsuo know this?”

“Eavesdropping, were you?” She shook her head. “I’m trying to keep everything related to that man away from him. I don’t want to cause him unnecessary feelings. He doesn’t need that. All he needs to do is be a child.”

Fuyumi placed her chin into her palm with her other hand holding her elbow, in thought. She’s kept many secrets about their family away from her little brother to preserve his childlike naivety. She didn’t like it but what was the point in telling such things to a child? Besides, her aunt was right. She didn't need her younger brother to be burdened with their family business like she was—like Toya was.

Yuki gave her a knowing look. “It’s just a suspicion of mine but I think it’s because of Shoto.”

“Shoto?” Fuyumi said unconvinced. “I doubt it. You know how much he shelters him.”

“You’re not wrong but from what I’ve heard”—from your mother—“is that he’s looking for someone to train his Ice Quirk.” Apparently Rei wasn’t enough. Was he going to break him too?

“I thought mom was teaching him? She was hellbent on that,” she said mumbled bitterly. “Remember when dad tried to get him a tutor and she was so adamant on teaching him herself ? I’ve never seen her more passionate about anyone else.”

As the words left her mouth, Fuyumi bit her lips and glanced down, feeling ashamed at her own tone. They didn’t deserve that, this bitterness. She loved her baby brother but it was no secret that she felt a bit envious of him. It was the same dark feelings she harboured before Natsuo’s fourth birthday. Don’t get her wrong, she knew that it wasn’t even his fault! And she tried to suppress it too! She knew it was selfish and childish of her to think this way.

But with that said, she, being the second eldest and a failed Todoroki, her mother rarely had time for her anymore. She saw her maybe once a week? Maybe less? The last time she saw her all they did was look at each other in passing. They may have been living in the same house but ever since Shoto’s fourth birthday, her mother had been shutting herself in more and more with each passing day.

“Was,” Yuki emphasized, “you have to remember that. Things change. Your mother...changed.”

She placed her hand over Fuyumi’s and squeezed it, giving her a sympathetic look. It begged her not to resent her sister, but also knew that if she did, she understood why.

“I can’t say for certain why, but all we know is that he always sought to make Shoto surpass him.” —regardless of anyone or anything—was left unsaid but understood.

Fuyumi took a deep breath. “Okay… Okay,” Fuyumi repeated more resolutely. “If dad is really calling for him because of Shoto, I’ll be in the house. He can’t cut off a grown independent adult from the rest of the world. And if anything happens to mom or Shoto I'll know.”

She didn’t know what she could possibly do as damage control when it involved her father and her youngest brother, but it wasn’t as if she’s never covered for her family before.

“I wish he would’ve just rejected,” Fuyumi sighed, “for himself at least.”

Yuki agreed, “I still do wonder why he’s interested since he told me himself that he didn’t know of Endeavor. And he doesn’t seem like a person to vie for status.”

“W— Wait.” Fuyumi blinked owlishly. “He didn’t know dad was the number two hero in Japan? Is that even possible?”

“I didn’t know it was a possibility either.” She shook her head. “Anyways, enough of that. Did you need anything? I doubt you were here just to spy on us.”

“Oh..." It was clear that she wanted to say more. Instead, she controlled herself and buried it. "I just came by to tell you about that trip I’m going on in a few weeks. Planning and all that,” she replied, explaining the details.

As Fuyumi started to talk about her excursion, Natsuo slowly pulled his ear away from the door and headed towards his room in silence. He stayed close to the wall as not to alert anyone of his presence, thinking about his father’s invitation to his hero.

When he first overheard his aunt talking about it, he didn’t give it much thought. He tried to purge all connections with Endeavor after all. His father never cared for him and in the first four years where he showed mild interest, he couldn’t recall if he’d ever even shown up to his room. Both his aunt and sister were quite protective of him, not that he needed that, really. Perhaps if he had good memories of the man, he would’ve appreciated their concern. You couldn't miss what you never had after all. He was intimidated by him, feeling that it was his fault for not meeting up to his father’s expectations. Sometimes. He had those thoughts on occasion when he couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling from his bed. But usually, they were buried between his contempt and apathy for the man. He didn’t care about him to share anything except blood and financial aid—both of which were mandatory. 

That was the issue. At first, he felt that it was odd, but nothing he should involve himself in. Everyone came and went. Nothing special. There was one time, in the past, he got involved and let's just say, it didn’t end well. He was just glad that his older brother and sister were there for him. But the more he heard, and the more he thought about it, the colder his sweat became.

His father wasn’t the sharing type. Whatever he wanted, he got whether that meant through status or brute force, it didn’t matter. He was like a dragon hoarding everything—his mom, his younger brother, his family. So if he took away Cielo too, would he never see him again? They said something about how outsiders to the family always had a choice.

But Cielo had accepted. They always do.

A small part of him felt that it was unfair for someone, not even blood related, was allowed to meet his father,when he, his biological son, hadn’t talked to him in years. The bigger and stronger part of him was scared for Cielo. He wasn’t the first hero he’s met that was nice to him and worried about him—plenty of heroes did that. He didn’t have the strongest Quirk either—that was All Might. He wasn’t even the first person he had to part with—that was his family.

But he was the first one to stay.

Auntie had her own life as an adult, Fuyumi had her friends and was on the cusp of adulthood, and Toya had already grown up and left. Everyone had a sense of "another home". Somewhere else they belonged; somewhere else they would return to. To him, Cielo was an adult but still felt like someone who, if asked, would stay with him. At least until he became an adult as well. Someone who he didn’t feel guilty about asking to stay, someone who didn’t have secrets to “protect” him, someone who was genuinely happy and content to be with him.

An adult, yet so unlike one.

Still lost in thought, he stood in front of his room and slid the door open not realizing that his feet had led him to another’s. He snapped out of his thoughts as he saw the flickering of orange light—no—lion?

As the lion ceased its purring, a startled Tsuna stared widely at his unexpected guest.

“N—Natsuo?”

Chapter Text

Natsu purred, melting at his partner’s warm fingers combing through his soft orange mane, eliciting a chuckle from the man. He was draped over Tsuna's lap like an oversized cat, tail sweeping back and forth on the floor. His paws circled Tsuna’s idle arm, rubbing his face in bliss and playfully biting on it.

It’d been too long since he had this much attention from him. Back home, it was always one thing or the other: the mafia, hitmen, raids, fights, their scary mentor, their crazy guardians, Uri being mean, the Varia, Bester… But! After arriving in this strange new world, it had been nearly a week of nothing but relaxed grooming—or heaven in his opinion. Granted it was only during the late hours in brief increments but at least it was consistent.

“Enjoy this while it lasts,” Tsuna chuckled, getting under his chin. “We only have a few more days until work catches up to us again.”

“Gao...” he grumbled, flicking his tail in annoyance. Don’t remind me—he seemed to say.

“Don’t get sassy with me, mister!” he teased, squishing his toe beans. “You’re always so bratty when no one else is around.”

He gave him a quick glance as if to say, “but you’re here aren’t you?”

Tsuna sighed affectionately. “You’re so spoiled.”

Natsu stuck his tongue out at him before nibbling on his fingers.

Suddenly he stopped, his ears flickering. Soft footsteps. No malicious intent. Not mafia?

Tsuna rose a brow, wondering why Natsu stopped purring until—

“N—Natsuo?” Tsuna stared wide-eyed at the sudden appearance of said boy, his hand gripping the frame of the door as if to ground himself in reality."I've got way too relaxed..." Tsuna chastised himself. "But usually I would've heard footsteps..."

The boy in question froze, mouth agape, owlish eyes locking onto Natsu. In which the latter jumped a foot into the air and quickly scrambled to hide behind Tsuna.

“Gao!”

“Ack! Natsu, you—” Tsuna yelled, fumbling to catch him.

“I—Is that a lion,” Natsuo stuttered as he pointed to the animal hiding behind his hero, “on FIRE!? ”

“Natsuo!” Tsuna cried, failing to address him welcomingly as a panicked Natsu used his back as a springboard, clawing his way under the safe haven of his partner's mantle nestled in the corner of the room. “Cazzo! For the love of—!”

Tsuna lifted his mantle off the floor, exposing him. Natsu hunched in surprise, shooting him one of the dirtiest looks a lion could muster. Tsuna, in return, merely stared back like a disappointed mother looking at her son trip over himself in front of a guest for the third time.

“You’re not a cub anymore," he mumbled, "Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“I— I’m sorry,” Natsuo stuttered, “should I— should I leave?” He bit his lips as he took a slow step back, mortified gaze landing on the floor.

“No, no. It’s fine,” Tsuna sighed as he rubbed his temples, unaware of Natsuo's movements. “Natsu isn't good with new people...or most people, actually.”

Natsu swiftly snagged his mantle right out of his hands and dove into his futon, sliding under the covers. Curled up in his little den, he observed the two humans, gnawing on his mantle. Seeing his partner slap his hand on his forehead brought him sadistic glee, fully aware that his Flame filled fangs could easily destroy the kevlar woven cloth. His tail waved smugly as if he dared his partner to make him interact with someone outside the immediate family.

Tsuna groaned as Natsu hooked one of his claws into the fabric. Looks like he was going to need a new mantle. Great! Can’t wait to tell Reborn and Leon that!

“You’re a piece of work.” Tsuna walked over to Natsu, petting him comfortingly over the blanket, respecting his desire to stay hidden. “We really have to work on this, you skittish kitty.”

Natsu purred, the outline of the blanket becoming more relaxed.

Seeing him calm, Tsuna stopped petting him and walked towards Natsuo, not missing the way he quickly back-stepped outside the boundaries of his room.

“Sorry about that.” He slid the door completely open and moved out of the way. “Come in.”

Natsuo swallowed, looking up at him with his chin to his chest, weaving his hands. “S— So you’re not mad?”

Tsuna smiled reassuringly, crouching down so he was at eye level with the him.

It wasn’t like he was angry at Natsu, it was just how they both spoke to one another—affectionate exasperation, he called it. His tone didn’t hold any maliciousness, nor did he think he spoke that loudly. But clearly that didn’t matter when the boy looked up at him as if he was going to redirect his “anger” on him.

“I wasn’t mad, not at him or you. I just didn’t expect Natsu to be startled this badly. Promise.”

Tsuna rubbed his head awkwardly. He wasn’t as good as comforting others as his Rain was but even he knew his little outburst triggered something in Natsuo. He took a step back as not to suffocate him, eyes still on par with his.

Natsuo peeked over his shoulder, catching the lion’s glowing orange eyes. He flinched, quickly looking away.

“He’s not mad either, just shy," Tsuna reassured again, keeping a gentle smile on his face. "A silly little lion, isn't he? He’s like that with everyone. Do you want to meet him?”

“Um...”

Natsuo wrung his hands, shoulders loosening up a bit. He was just glad that his hero wasn’t in a bad mood. He’s never heard the man yell before. He didn't think it was possible. Cielo always had this calming aura around him—as if he was in control of every situation. But unlike his father, it wasn’t one of authority—one that demanded respect and attention. His was like a guiding hand—knowing and dependable. So to see him fumble around and lose his composure for a second unnerved him.

“He’s a sweetheart once you get to know him.”

Nastuo observed his body movements. His shoulders weren't hunched. He wasn't tense. He smiled, a real one, not that angry smile hiding annoyance and frustration. He was a few paces away from him and didn't get closer, which he appreciated. His eyes were that beautiful orange colour he saw whenever Cielo seemed to talk to him. It felt comforting—like a sunset. The fire it held wasn't like his father's or older brother's. He wasn't looking down on him, both figuratively and literally.

And now that he thought about it, his voice wasn’t mean. Good heroes could never be mean. He was just surprised, not mad. Not mad at the lion or him.

"He's not like dad, he's not like dad, he's not like dad," Natsuo kept reminding himself.

“Say,” Tsuna distracted, “what do you notice about him?”

“Notice?” Natsuo stared at the animal blinking back at him from under the covers.

“His fire,” he prompted.

“His fire— Oh! It’s not burning the blanket!” He gasped. “Your lion is on fire and he’s not burning anything!” He looked at him with wonder in his eyes. “He’s not burning anything! Is he like you? With the non-burny kind of fire? It’s a different colour though.”

Tsuna nodded, offering his hand, cheering inwardly. Bless Kyoko and Haru for giving him those childcare lessons!

“Want to pet him? Don’t worry he doesn’t bite.”

Natsuo reached for his hand but hesitated at the last second. “But he’s scared right?” He paused before his fingers gripped his. “I don’t want to scare him.”

This precious child. Were all non-mafia affiliated children this sweet?

“I promise he’s just jumpy around strangers.” If Natsu truly felt distraught over Natsuo’s presence he would’ve returned to his box.

Tsuna led Natsuo to the side of his bed, sitting down on the floor and exposing his palm to his partner. Natsu, peeling his eyes away from the boy, noticed Tsuna’s open palm through the small gap in the blanket, slowly emerging from his little den.

“See?” Tsuna said as Natsu rubbed his face on his hand, huffing and chuffing. “Nothing but a big spoiled cat.”

Natsuo swallowed his nerves. The lion seemed to stare into his soul, almost as if he knew something he didn’t. His tail swished from side to side, interested, yet neither one willing to make the first move.

Natsu blinked, perking up, finally recognizing the boy as the one he saved a while ago. The one that gave them their vacation! The good boy! A friend!

Natsu chuffed, lowering his head towards him. Encouraged by Tsuna's nod, Natsuo held his breath and stuck his hand in its flowing mane, trusting his word. As the flames licked his skin, he felt a rush of warmth spread throughout his body, the fiery mane weaving through his fingers like water. He released the breath he was holding, the nervous frown on his face perking up. 

“I didn’t know animals could have Quirks!” he whispered in awe as if it was some big secret. “Wait. He is an animal, right? Not something with multiple Quirks? Or one of your Italian hero friends? You have similar Quirks so—”

He jerked his hand back as if he was scorched, Natsu whining at the loss of affection. “—have I been petting your brother!? Are you related? I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Woah, woah!” Tsuna interrupted before he saw the boy’s head explode. “Take a deep breath. Natsu is really a lion”—technically speaking, he was the physical embodiment of his Flames—“and well, he’s special. His Quirk allows him to... change forms. Yes, to shapeshift.”

That should be general enough, right? If he needed Natsu in battle, that should cover most questions considering that people with multiple Quirks were uncommon. But then again, if someone saw a lion on fire the first question wouldn't be "what Quirk(s) does it have?" but, "THAT LION IS ON FUCKING FIRE??"

Well, now that brought up a slew of other questions, didn't it? Were animals with Quirks rare or nonexistent? Or was Natsuo's reaction credited to the fact that he was still young?

Ugh. These questions weren't what he usually dealt with considering the underground was full of Flame users. It'd be much easier if he didn't have to use Natsu in battle in the first place since he didn't want to bring too much attention to himself. But Spanner said that this world was full of powerful people and he wasn't one to risk a person's life for his own comfort. And considering his luck, or lack thereof, there was a high possibility that Natsu would be seen again in the foreseeable future.

Besides, if he didn't let Natsu out for battle every once in a while, he'd get antsy. It was the animal equivalent to being cooped up in a gilded cage except Natsu held higher intellegence and would burn those bars and the keeper to hell for the insult. The last time he excluded Natsu in a fight the lion hissed and scratched at him for days. It wasn't like he meant to but the enemy famiglia was really weak so he didn't need to bring him out. He was trying to give his partner a break! But apparently he thought wrong and his bedsheets paid the price for that.

Reborn laughed at him and on that day, the "let's mess with Tsuna" club welcomed another member.

"Great," he thought, "another thing I have to worry about. Did the previous Vongola bosses also have these problems or is this just a 'me' thing?"

“He mimics anything?" Natsuo questioned. "Other Quirks too?”

Damn it. “Not everything?” he said unconvincingly.

Tsuna chose to ignore Natsu’s disappointed face scrutinizing him. Knowing him, he’ll spill the beans to Reborn and get him thrown back into Death Mountain for spouting lies. Not for the fact that he lied, no, that would be normal. It’d be for telling a flimsy lie in an unconvincing manner.

...scratch that, nothing about this was normal.

“There are some complex rules to Natsu’s Quirk," he said with elaborate hand gestures, "but basically we’re connected in a symbiotic relationship.”

Natsuo titled his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means that”—he looked at Natsu for help only for the lion to betray him by sticking his tongue out in response—“we help each other out."

Hey! That stupid yet truthful excuse was better than: “Yeah, that lion I said was a lion? He isn’t really a lion. He’s the mix of Flames and science and if I don’t give him a steady supply of my Flames, one of the core life essences in my world, he’ll basically do the box animal equivalent of dying.”

"We’re connected like family," Tsuna concluded.

“Oh...” Natsuo whispered, a shadow looming over his face.

Tsuna and Natsu looked at each other in confusion. The latter crawled up to the boy, nudging his hand with his muzzle, gently licking his palms. Natsuo let the lion guide his hand back towards his mane, absentmindedly running his hand down his back.

“Are you okay? If it’s something I said, I’m sorry,” Tsuna apologized, giving them space so Natsu could comfort him, “can you tell me what made you sad? I’ll do my best to avoid it next time.”

Natsuo didn't say anything, pensively thinking about something. Meanwhile, Tsuna racked his brain in a panic. People killing him? He could deal with that. Reborn? Slightly harder but he could handle that too. But a sad kid? A kid so obviously traumatized looking sullen because of something he did or said? That. That he couldn't handle. What if he made him cry? He didn't want to make things worse!

Natsuo didn’t look up and if Natsu was a real lion, he would’ve yelped at the tightening fist in his mane. “Can… Can I show you something?” Natsuo finally said, reaching for Tsuna's hand.

He nodded in response, sharing a concerned look with Natsu.

Natsuo led Tsuna to his room, the two wordlessly walking through the halls illuminated only by the moon. Natsu had already returned to his box and when Tsuna thought of a clever excuse, he paused. Natsuo still had his eyes set on the floor, deep in thought. He didn't see that. He didn't see any of that. The boy who loved his Flames more than anyone he's ever met didn't see that. Just what the hell did he say that upset him so much?

“Well, it can’t be too bad since he’s showing me something right?” Tsuna reassured himself.

Upon arriving, Natsuo let go of his hand, swerving his head left and right before closing the door. Walking towards a large blue backpack leaning against a corner of his wall, he shot a glance towards Tsuna almost to confirm he was still here. Tsuna watched as he unzipped his rather plain-looking bag to take out...another bag? This one with noticeably more embellishments suited for a child. It had a picture of a large blonde man flexing on the front and looked as if the colours of the American flag vomited on the bag. Large capitalized words of “ALL MIGHT” were stitched right below the man, and if Natsuo didn’t explain to him about the relevance of the number one hero, he would’ve had some questions on this universe’s youth fashion choices.

As Natsuo unzipped the bag and shuffled through some of its contents to make sure everything was still there. Meanwhile, Tsuna just stared at the pearly whites of the, supposedly, most important and powerful man in this universe.

Dear Lord, he didn’t think The All Might would look this… gaudy? I mean, he didn’t want to judge the man solely on appearances but having been around Reborn and his “if you wear an ugly baby blue shirt ever again I’ll fucking end you” speeches, All Might's style in attire was… a little too wild for him. Tsuna supposed it was normal in a world where heroes were a real thing—you know, typical American comic book attire. At least the man could pull it off. He couldn't even begin to imagine the mortification of wearing a bright tricoloured spandex suit in public (it might even be worse than the first time he met Reborn!).

Not that he showed any of this to Natsuo. If the boy liked this hero, he was all for it. I mean, if this man was a symbol for these kids, and the number one hero unanimously agreed upon by the entire world, he couldn’t be any worse than their neglectful parents.

Natsuo placed the bag in front of him, patting the ground, signalling him to sit beside him. He did.

“This is a secret from everyone, okay?” Natsuo whispered as he pulled out the contents of his bag.

First, he took out a few laminated cards signed by “nice and cool heroes,” as he told him. He nudged an empty card into his hands, handing him an orange, yellow, and black marker. Tsuna, slightly surprised, took the pen and signed his hero name, Cielo, in beautiful cursive. Seeing the boy perk up a bit, Tsuna winked at the boy, twirling the pen for finesse. Tsuna raised a finger which made Natsuo pause as he made grabby hands for the paper.

“Watch this,” Tsuna said as he turned the card towards him.

Reborn would probably kill him for this, but he wasn’t here right now. This would be future Tsuna’s problem.

He shot a small stream of Flames to his hand, the tip of his index finger lighting a small ball of Sky Flames. He placed his lit finger on his signature, the Flames crawling through the ink like a wick until orange Flames spelled his name. He blew on it, just to show that the Flames couldn't be extinguished. Handing the paper over to Natsuo, he chuckled at the boy's widening eyes and gaping mouth, tracing his fingers over the lit signature in disbelief. He held the paper in both hands, holding it up to the light before hugging the piece of paper like it was his most prized possession. He could see a slight red dust on his chubby cheeks, beaming, before tackling him in a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered into his chest, hands grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

Tsuna patted his head, before asking about his little collection. Natsuo, who made himself comfortable in his lap, pulled the bag closer to him—considerably happier now—and explained his collection. There were some autographs from the nicer heroes he'd met, or lived with, in their summer home. He recognized a few of them from the news or when Natsuo gushed about them: All Might, Crimson Riot, Godzillo (did Godzilla exist in this world too? If so, he wondered if there were any intellectual property lawsuits), Ectoplasm, Snatch, and Edgeshot. There were also some collectables such as gachas or trading cards of various heroes which only solidified his assumptions on how heroes and celebrities were one and the same. Some wristbands, badges, pins, and—

Was that an embroidered autograph made of denim??

“This one’s from Best Jeanist,” Natsuo explained as if that cleared any of Tsuna’s confusion. “It was from when he won the ‘Best Jeanist’ Award”—What???—“I came really late so he didn't have enough material to use so he used a part of his costume! He used a part of his sleeve! Isn't that awesome?!”

Not a single part of his explanation cleared up any part of his confusion. In fact, he ended up with even more questions.

“It’s a really nice collection,” Tsuna said, moving on.

Natsuo nodded. “It’s my secret stash of hero stuff. It’s usually in my secret place at home but I always bring it with me on trips.”

“Can I ask why? It's completely fine if you don't want to answer,” he quickly added.

Natsuo opened his mouth and closed it, toes curling and uncurling. Tsuna patiently waited for him to give his answer as Nastuo battled two thoughts in his head.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, Natsuo licked his lips nervously before answering, “Dad… Dad doesn’t like other heroes. Or he doesn't care about them. I think he’s okay with working with some of them since he runs a hero agency but I don't know if he likes them. Especially...”—he pointed towards the bag with All Might on it—“he doesn't like us keeping things like this around the house. He doesn't care about us but he cares about this. I don’t want him to find it. It’s mine. Toya told me to get rid of it before he left but I don't wanna. He said it was dangerous keeping ‘physical evidence’ but it’s mine! It’s not my fault I can keep things more secretive than him.”

He pouted, squeezing his fingers around Tsuna's hand. "He's always like that! Always keeping secrets but always telling me not to keep any. Just because he's an adult it doesn't mean he can boss me around. It's not fair. Just because he burned everything he had it doesn't mean I should too."

He let go with a sigh, that solemn look coming back to his face. “I just want things for me. I don’t want to rely on dad. I want to be like Toya and grow up and leave. Fuyumi is lucky. She’s almost a grown-up but she doesn’t want to leave,” he said with a slight bitterness in his tone.

“I’m sure things are more complicated than that,” Tsuna said trying to defend his sister. Most situations like these were.

Natsuo looked up at him in silence before playing with his loose cuff. He retreated further towards him, both hands grabbing his shirt in a vice as if his weight could anchor him here.

“Are you… Are you really going to the main house?" he mumbled. "To meet my dad?”

Tsuna raised a brow. “How did you know?”

“I overheard auntie and Fuyumi talking about it. So are you really going to see my dad?”

“...I am.”

“Why?” he asked with force behind his words.

Good question. “It’s for hero business. I’m not sure why your father wants to see me either but I’m curious, I guess. Why? Do you not want me to go?”

Natsuo sighed defeatedly, nodding. “I don’t want you to go— I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay with us forever.”

“That’s a nice thought,” Tsuna said with a sad smile. “But I’ll have to leave eventually.”

He shook his head. Almost as if, if he denied it, his wish would come true. “I want to come with you.”

“Maybe when you’re older. I can’t just take you, you know?” That would be kidnapping.

“Then... can I come visit your hero agency? You have one here right? Not just in Italy?” he cried in more desperate tones.

“I do but I’m not sure how long I’ll stay here”—in this universe, was left unsaid—“but it’s not like I’ll be leaving right away. We still have a week. Why not ask your aunt if you can come—”

Natsuo whined, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “I don’t want to go back,” he whispered.

Tsuna winced. “Sorry, I didn't mean to sound insensitive.”

A thick air surrounded the room, Tsuna racking his brain for any way to make the boy feel better. What did he do when he fought with Lambo or I-pin? Well, usually kept his cool. This was different, he made him sad. What did he do when they were sad? Say he’s sorry? No, apologizing would be redundant. Give some treats? No, it wasn’t even his. His Flames? At this point, showing him his Flames to distract him seemed inconsiderate. Maybe he should bring out Natsu again? 

“If you’re going, can I do something for me?” Natsuo said, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” Tsuna replied immediately, thankful.

Natsuo got off his lap, packing his collection back into his All Might bag and hiding it in the plain blue backpack. Then, he walked over to his desk and took out a few blank pieces of paper and some pens. Tsuna got off the floor, peeking over the boy’s back to see what he was doing. Natsuo took two coloured pencils—blue and red—colouring the white paper in abstract scribbles only a child could decipher the meaning of. After he was finished, he placed the markers back into their original place, trading them for a plain blue mechanical pencil.

“I wanted to be a hero like dad too,” Natsuo said suddenly as he started to write, “once.”

His fingers strangled the neck of his pencil at the memory of him running up to his father, with hope and a need for approval dancing on his tongue. The memory was fresh in his mind: the thump of his feet as he saw his father, the anticipation building with each step he took. Gentling cradling the mishappen sculpture he poured his heart into, he came up to his stern father hoping to turn that frown into a smile.

Dad! —he cried—Dad, look what I made! It’s an ice copy of your fire!—stupidly he continued, ignorant of his father's growing irritation—I showed it Fuyumi and she said it looked really good! Toya laughed at me though… but then I... but… I...  

All he got were those eyes.

Loosening his grip, he tried to chase those clingy memories away and continued writing. “I asked him about his Quirk. I just thought if I could learn about it, I could also…” He took a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head. “I was idiotic for asking something like that. I was better than my older brother, at least, but I’m not even as resilient as my sister. I said that I could train with mom but then I would be bothering her.”

Tsuna narrowed his eyes. Those were not a child’s words. It sounded wrong coming out of Natsuo's mouth. Those words weren't his.

“He’s wrong," Tsuna said trying to sound gentle instead of angry (at his father). "You’re not an idiot for wanting to be loved. Him, placing his own sense of worth on you like that—”

“It doesn't matter,” Natsuo replied emptily, eyes betraying his tongue, “I was born with the wrong Quirk. Sho… Shoto wasn’t.”

Tsuna narrowed his brows in worry. Weren’t Quirks hereditary? How could one’s Quirk be wrong?

When Natsuo finished the note, he placed his pencil back into the cup. Tsuna watched as he folded the paper into triangles and then into diamonds until it became a perfectly folded origami crane. Natsuo cupped the little paper bird in his hands, staring at it contemplatively before unravelling it and folding it into a simple square.

“Dad doesn’t call anyone for anything unless it’s for Shoto.” Frustration. Worry. Envy. “Can you give this to them? To mom and Shoto? I don’t need it back, I just… want to see if you could reach them.”

Tsuna took the letter, staring at the ceases—the only evidence that remained of what it once used to look like—and carefully pocketed it.

“Does your dad restrict communication? Does he stop you from talking with them?”

Perhaps it was from the unpleasant memories resurfacing or because Cielo exuded an air of comfort but Natsuo couldn’t help but move his mouth faster past his apprehensiveness.

“Shoto always has his lessons from dad and mom… I don’t know. She doesn’t come outside anymore… at least, not when I’m there—” he whispered the last part “—and she's sick. That's what Fuyumi told me. And their rooms are past dad’s. I can sneak around the house but I don’t want to risk going near there.”

“Can I ask why you’re giving this to me? Why not your sister?”

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “It’s not like she can see them either.”

Tsuna took a deep breath. “I’ll... make sure to deliver this, promise.” He did his absolute best not to show any emotions besides reassurance.

Quickly, to change the subject, he glanced at his watch. “It’s late. Do you want to do anything else before bed?”

Natsuo, torn between his bedtime and spending more time with his hero, fidgeted. “C— Can you show me Natsu again? Just a little bit?”

Tsuna released a sigh of relief and ruffled his hair. “Sure. I'll show some cool tricks he can do too.”

Chapter Text

A week went by quickly. After their initial meeting, Natsu became much closer to Natsuo—to the point where the lion would often sneak into his room and sit on him until he woke up. If Natsuo minded at all, he never showed it. Tsuna tried to stop his partner but arguing with a cat of any kind was useless. He even tried to restrict his Flame output but Natsu would screech from inside his box until he was let out. It wasn’t like Natsu didn’t know why Tsuna wanted to stop him. But secrecy and anonymity were human problems and he was a lion. Besides, if it seemed like he was losing an argument, Natsu would roll on his back and act cute to get out of his partner’s lectures. Although that might’ve worked on Hayato it certainly didn’t on him. Certainly.

If there was anything he and Natsu had in common was that they were stubborn to a fault; to Tsuna, it felt like a parent seeing their child picking up their bad habits. If they wanted something, nothing in this or any other universe was going to deter them from their goal. Tsuna absolutely loathed trying to get Natsu to do anything outside his comfort zone.

The only good thing that came out of this was Natsuo’s happiness which actually was a pretty big factor in Natsu’s favour. The two got along well—not that Tsuna was surprised. High purity Sky-Flames plus a cute little animal? Who could resist? 

Natsu, after attuning to a person, would become fiercely loyal and protective of them—a trait that he inherited from his partner. He stuck to Natsuo like glue whenever they were alone or with Tsuna; basking in attention from someone, especially a child, who didn’t try to fight, capture, or throw experimental explosives in a panic at him for once. Sometimes Tsuna would see the two chasing or playfully wrestling each other in the busier hours where the staff and the Todoroki household couldn’t see them. 

In the meantime, Tsuna was able to contact the Vongola often, updating them on his whereabouts and plans (or lack thereof). The Vongola, meanwhile, finally managed to get a hold of Byakuran.

“Tsukun!” he heard Byakuran shout energetically.

“Byakuran,” Tsuna replied neutrally.

How were his friends so hyper and animated all the time? He swore from the headaches and weird young adult muscle pains, they somehow sapped all his energy and made it their own.

Byakuran coyly chuckled as Tsuna imagined him sitting cross-legged on a swivel chair like a child. “ So… I heard from your little advisor that you went to another world. Did you find the Vongola of that world yet?”

Tsuna rose a brow. “Didn’t Shoichi brief you?”

“Ehh... Shochan and Spanner aren’t allowed into their lab until they finish the ‘workplace safety’ training with your Storm.”

Tsuna spluttered, “H— Hayato is leading a safety workshop? How?”

Hayato definitely calmed down over the years but he never quite lost that hot-headed nature of his. This was like having one impulsive idiot teach other impulsive idiots how to meditate.

“Let's just say, your advisor has been very happy lately.”

Tsuna sighed, slapping his hand on his forehead. “Of course,” he mumbled, “of course, it’s because of Reborn! That sadistic—”

“ Oh. Please finish that sentence. We’re all interested.”

Tsuna’s heart jumped through his throat. “I— Is he…?”

He snorted. No matter how many years had passed, no matter how much his dear friend matured, he was still such a fun person to tease.

“Nope!” Byakuran chirped as Tsuna let out a breath of relief. “But these calls are recorded, you know?”

Tsuna took in a deep breath, his hands already in prayer position. “ I can sense my impending doom. This will probably be our last time talking. Tell my mom I love her. Tell my father to spend more time with her and if you want to punch him in the throat for last year’s Christmas incident for me that would be greatly appreciated. Tell the Vongola not to go full Secondo—we don’t need to add to our body count—and tell Enma I’m leaving all my earthly possessions to him.”

“Aww… Nothing for me?”

“You get to hear and deliver my will. Also to prevent Reborn from somehow chasing me into the afterlife.”

“I get responsibilities? You’re such a Seraph, ” he pouted.

“You can get the secret stash of sweets in the hidden compartment inside my desk. Second drawer on the left, press hard on the inner right corner and check the sides.”

Despite the fact that he and Byakuran often disagreed on the methodology of the mafia, he was one of the few people he could trust to joke around with. You know, to be a normal human with. 

“Will do!” he replied laughing. “Anyways. How’s the universe? Fitting in nicely?”

Well, as normal as two space-time manipulating mafia bosses could get.

“Kind of?" He scratched his cheeks. "I’m not sure about fitting in but I'm heading towards Vongola HQ soon. Can't escape duty forever. Oh! I’m also getting eight hours of sleep on average and I haven’t been attacked in two full weeks now so you tell me,” he said, grinning.

“What!? Lucky! That’s so not fair! Shochan!” His voice became more and more distant with each yell. “Shochan! I thought we were friends! Send me to the vacation universe! SHOCHAN!!! ”

With a useless, smug sense of pride, he turned the dial after hearing nothing but explosions and muffled laughter in the distance. 

“Two hours left,” Tsuna mumbled to himself.

He stretched and leaned back against the wall, staring amusedly through the window. Natsu had Natsuo standing on his back, his tattered cape haphazardly wrapped around his collar. Wherever Natsuo pointed towards, Natsu trotted to. Natsuo was definitely larger than Natsu but someone as small as him was practically weightless to an animal box creature. Frankly, Tsuna was more impressed at Natsuo’s balance. It wasn’t every day where someone could ride on the back of a lion like he was a skateboard.

Tsuna crossed his arms and smiled. He didn’t have any worries over being caught. Natsu was a creature made of pure Flames; his instincts and speed outmatched any normal human. If anyone came close, he would be able to hide without a hitch. But it was still a wonder how nobody heard their screaming and came out to check by now.

He twiddled his thumbs, satisfied but also a bit fidgety. Like he told Byakuran, he genuinely did enjoy being here. But having such a high-pressure life, this long break— peaceful break—left him without much to do. When he got debriefed by Spanner, he expected non-stop villain attacks. Not that he wanted that, of course! It's just that, from his track record, something was bound to go wrong or weird. Although because of Reborn the latter was becoming more and more normal to him.

Anyways, bottom line, he just wanted to let out some steam. 

“Huh… Maybe that’s why I kept showing my Flames to him.” Flames were an extension of the user; suppressing it was like pausing one of your bodily functions. And he knew from experience that suppressing Flames, especially high-purity Flames like his, had dire consequences. So perhaps that's why he was so eager to show off his Flames to Natsuo? Besides trying to cheer him up of course.

He briefly wondered if this was how Natsu felt back then when he inhibited his fighting.

Tsuna mentally listed off all the things he needed to when he arrived at the base—hero agency. First, he needed to find the damn place. Unfortunately, the coordinates he gave Fuyumi were quite far from the actual location. Most underground hero agencies were hidden from the public (though not nearly hidden enough in his opinion) and contact came mostly through the hero association. That, and whatever Basil set up—whatever anyone in the Vongola set up—was bound to turn some heads. Fortunately, Tsuna trained with Reborn and any person, or thing, that survived his training was already a step above the rest. The agency was located in a fairly inconspicuous place. Musutafu city was overrun with hero agencies which meant high competition between agencies to become noticed. That was perfect—"hiding in plain sight" as they would say. Who would notice another grain of sand in a desert?

Afterwards, he had to establish a working relationship with his employees. He highly doubted Basil told them about the real Vongola considering he claimed his alias as an underground hero. Tsuna pinched the bridge of his nose already preparing himself for the mental hoops he had to go through during their conversation as not to arouse suspicion. Spanner didn't tell him much about Basil's crafted persona or his.

Tsuna sighed. "Just think of this as another one of Reborn's tests."

He wasn't exactly sure the legal process was for running a hero agency considering underground heroism was probably morally grey in this world as well. But then again, considering this world's unhealthy obsession with the limelight perhaps underground heroes were no different but only differed in people who wished for attention versus those who didn't. Either way, he saw a lot of paperwork in his future.

Finally, after he worked out his stay, he had to deal with whatever Endeavor wanted with him.

"Please don't be another Xanxus. Please don't be another Xanxus," he muttered quietly.

Tsuna groaned. He wanted—needed something to do. He didn’t need to pack since, well, he literally came to this world with nothing but the clothes on his back. Usually, he would be chilling with Natsu but they both agreed that they'd rather see Natsuo happy for as long as possible. it was sad but he didn't have much of a relationship outside general pleasantries with the members of this household (and occasional visitors). Tsuna would've tried to find Yuki to ask if she needed any help but she was out on a business trip. She apologized that she couldn’t see him off but apparently there was an urgent matter she needed to tend to. He didn’t mind. Her hospitality for the last two weeks were more than enough.

Speaking of, the only thing he thought of as a bother was the line of questioning from the police and even then that was a minor nitpick. On the third day of his first week, he was taken in to give his statement on the attempted assassination (or "villainy" as they called it) and fill the dreaded paperwork that came with all those legal matters. It really seemed like he couldn’t escape responsibility no matter what world he went to. Thankfully the government of this world and his agency (has he thanked Basil yet?) were pretty good with restoration and compensation because damn. Even if he wasn’t the one to level the neighborhood, he certainly didn’t help rebuild it.

The two police officers asked him who he was, what he did, any background knowledge, background checks, witness accounts—the usual. Even if he didn’t know the exact laws of this world, with the training beaten into his head by Reborn, he was able to breeze through the questioning. The only minor hiccup was his lack of hero license—which he learned was crucial especially for underground heroes—but a call to his “agency” confirmed his identity (seriously he needed to thank Basil when he returned home). They let him off with a warning about Quirk usage without a license on hand since he "just arrived back to Japan". Fairly nice people all things considered.

What baffled him the most was the second question they asked him after his name and hero identification: his Quirk. In his mind, Quirks equated to Flames. Even in the mafia no one really asked what someone’s Flames were as a form of identification unless it was someone important such as the donna or don of a famiglia. In fact, one of the police officers not handling his case asked him what his Quirk was before his identity. Seeing Quirks as an identifier cemented in Tsuna’s mind just how dependant their society was on it. Not unfounded but still that posed several questions in his head. He briefly wondered if there was Quirk-based discrimination or reverence akin to his world’s Flame purity controversy.

I don’t mind. I was born with the wrong Quirk. Sho… Shoto wasn’t.

Tsuna placed a hand over his chest where the letter was carefully pocketed. He never did ask for clarification or details regarding the Todoroki family since his heart-to-heart with Natsuo. It wasn’t his business and he certainly didn’t want the boy to relive his painful memories. So out of respect, he tried to refrain from thinking about it. Unfortunately, he failed. His Sky attribute was a double-edged sword. On one hand, his Flames amplified his general friendliness; it allowed others to feel comfortable around him. On the other hand, that same compassion made it impossible for him to distance himself from those he cared about.

From Yuki’s reaction to Endeavor's proposal, she seemed to know what was going on in the main Todoroki household but the extent she knew was, from his observations, limited. Not to mention the complex situation he could only begin to imagine she was forced into. Fuyumi seemed to hold her parents in high regard, or at least try and justify her or Natsuo’s negative slip-ups about their family. She didn’t exactly compliment her parents but gave reasons as to why their family dynamics were a bit disjointed—as she described.

Their parents… God that was another whole conversation, wasn’t it? From the way Natsuo spoke about them he seemed to hold fear, spite, and indifference towards his neglectful father—the self-implication and dismissal being just two of the symptoms he noticed. He seemed to see his mother as a distant figure—like a mirage he couldn’t hope to touch. Growing up in a large household full of very... assertive people, he couldn't even begin to imagine being left to his own devices. To be honest, it felt a little suffocating at times but nevertheless he loved them. He could joke about spending some time away from the family—which, yes, the sentiment was partially true—but when it came down to it, he’d sooner face the entirety of the Vindice a thousand times over than be parted from them any longer. So the isolation the boy felt being in the house, unable to truly receive the love and affection a child deserves from their parents. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how lonely he must be.

Fuyumi shared Natsuo’s sentiments but in a more mature and forgiving manner. She described her father as “busy and ambitious” while her mother was “just a little tired”. She seemed to notice the look on his face because she immediately waved her hands and said she was fine.

Tsuna had to wonder if their mother was almost like a watered-down version of their father or something else. He’s seen enough families in his line of work that sometimes, even if a child defended their parents to the bitter end, the “love” they clung onto was nothing but manipulation of their naivety and innocence. Considering how their mother seemed to favour the youngest didn’t bode well for him either. It seemed that favouritism split the family apart—especially towards their eldest. He could only hope wherever this Toya was, he fared better than most of his friends—Hayato came immediately to mind. But then again, he’d seen situations where the parents were manipulated by either a third-party source or amongst themselves. He couldn’t make any clear or decisive judgements but Natsuo's letter sat heavily on his chest.

Tsuna hummed contemplatively, his hand covering his mouth with a drumming finger with his other arm crossed over his chest. A deep orange glint swirled around his eyes, blinking slowly like a lion awaiting its prey. If he was back in his own world, this would've already signalled his guardians into action.

When the real Vongola inheritance was officially announced, he received major backlash from the… more volatile and traditional allied famiglias. There were several reasons for this. Sometimes it was some physical features he lacked like height, overt “masculinity”, or an intimidating face like Xanxus’s. Mostly it was due to his background and lack of history with the mafia; they thought he was too naive and inexperienced to succeed in a near ten generation organization. Takeshi actually had to physically restrain Hayato when one of the allied dons called him a “petite kitten trying to roar like a lion”. He honestly wasn't offended—the insult wasn't even that good—but try telling a Vongola Storm that. To be fair, those who disapproved of him weren’t completely wrong. Growing up a civillian, his ideas on the future of the Vongola often clashed with other mafiosos. In the aforementioned situation, Tsuna was mostly distracted by the stupidity of the man. To insult the don of a higher-ranking famiglia directly to his face at his inheritance ceremony with other high ranking officials—most of whom were dons and donnas who favoured him—was simply, suicidal.

Well, not like it mattered. If years of low self-esteem followed by Reborn’s unconventional methods of self-empowerment prepared him for anything, it was to ignore petty insults. Tsuna didn’t become a don to inherit a bloody legacy, he seized its power to destroy it because he could . And if some crusty old man wanted to argue over “Vongola traditionalism”, he would gladly chuck Vongola Primo’s will into his face.

But over the years those whispers died out. Over the years, they learned to leave a sleeping cub lie. Because if anyone saw his expression right now, they would never be able to contest his position as the don of the world’s biggest, most influential, and bloodiest famiglia.

He let out a humourless laugh, a sinister gleam in his eye that would make Reborn proud. Many considered Tsuna as one of the most peaceful dons. But everyone knew that Vongola Decimo would decimate anyone who hurt the innocent—especially children. Even Mukuro, who was known as the most ruthless and sadistic person—monster—in the underground, didn't hold a candle to the absolute fear instilled in those who were at the receiving end of those darkened orange eyes.

And soon, if found this "Endeavor" to be... less than humane, well, it looked like he could finally let out some steam after all.

Tsuna slowly stood up as he saw Natsu flick his ears and quickly blink away, dropping a startled Natsuo on the floor, just before Fuyumi appeared to tell them that their ride had arrived. With the weight of the paper burning a hole into his chest, Tsuna took a deep breath to collect himself. No need for the children to see him like this.

This meeting was either going to be very insightful or end up in flames.

Chapter Text

“Do you really have to go? Can't you stay just for one more hour?” Natsuo pleaded, wringing his hands, eyes bouncing from his sister and his hero.

Tsuna, who was helping Fuyumi load her luggage into the car, paused and smiled apologetically at him. But before he could say something, Fuyumi interjected.

“Natsuo, we’ve already delayed our trip by two,” she chided softly, “I know it gets a little lonely but auntie will be back in a couple of hours.”

He pouted, crossing his arms. “I know,” he mumbled as he kicked some dirt.

She gave Tsuna an apologetic glance before going up to her little brother and softly pinching his cheeks.

“Ow,” he said reflexively.

“It’s not like we’re leaving forever, we should be used to this by now.” She crouched a little, looking at him in the eye. “Besides, when you come back home, we can go visit Cielo’s agency together. Right?”

Tsuna nodded at her prompt. “I don’t know how long it’ll be until my next case but you’re both welcomed to visit at any time.”

“See?” she said gently wiggling his pinched cheeks. “It’s not the end of the world. Come on, where’s that All Might smile?” 

Natsuo giggled before smiling mischievously, pressing his index finger on his lips. Sharing a look with each other, they both grinned before Fuyumi hugged him, telling him to stay out of trouble.

Tsuna looked at their interaction with fondness in his eyes, staying as silently as possible as not to interrupt them.

With one last squeeze, she ruffled his hair, the latter of whom cried out in annoyance and tried to ruffle hers in retaliation. She chuckled when his arms couldn’t quite reach her head.

“Don't cause trouble for auntie, okay?” With that said, Fuyumi entered the car making sure their designated driver, a close family friend of hers, knew where Cielo’s hero agency was. The coordinates Shoichi gave Tsuna was apparently located in a very obscure part of the city.

Tsuna nearly flinched when Natsuo suddenly tackled him into a hug. The boy had an uncanny ability to walk silently and sneak up on people. And his hyper intuition was, like always in these non-threatening situations, ineffective or an absolute sadistic bastard. Probably both.

Tsuna crouched as Natsuo clawed at his suit, burying himself into his shirt before letting go. He looked at him with lingering sadness but mostly with fierce determination.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said resolutely, “but I’m going to visit you, okay? So you can’t leave before that! You can’t forget me!”

How sweet could he get? “Don’t worry. I promise we’ll meet again before I leave— on another mission,” he added quickly, “and the next time we meet, I promise I’ll show you some more cool tricks I can do with my Flames and Natsu.”

Natsuo gasped, stars shining in his eyes. “You’re going to show me your ultimate moves!? Really? Really, really ?”

He nodded.

“Promise?” he asked, lifting his pinky finger. 

“Promise,” Tsuna confirmed locking their fingers together.

A dead serious look shadowed Natsuo’s face as if they signed an oath with the Vindice. “You promised, okay? You can’t break it! Toya said that people who break their promises have to eat a thousand needles and I don't want you to be all poke-y and dead.”

Tsuna poked his cheek playfully. “I won’t. Stay safe, okay?”

Before he could leave, Natsuo pulled on his sleeve. “W—Wait!” He looked left and right before cupping his hands around his mouth. “You have it right?” he whispered loudly.

Tsuna blinked before winking at him, patting his chest where the letter was safely tucked away. “Your words are safe with me.”

Natsuo opened his mouth but hesitated. Instead, he hugged the man one last time before seeing the two off.

Tsuna watched as the Japanese countryside scrolled passed him, distracting himself by observing his surroundings. The sun was setting, a warm orange hue bathing the fields, a soft glow bouncing off each lamp post they passed.

“Just a little while longer,” he thought as he stared longingly at the open skies.

He leaned against his seat, taking a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. He was grateful that Fuyumi decided to sit in front instead of the back with him. She had looked at him oddly when he asked but respected his privacy and just nodded. Still, out of concern, she sat in the middle row as the front seats were separated by a privacy barrier.

If there was one thing that never changed since the beginning of his reign as Vongola boss it was his anxiety sitting in moving vehicles. He didn’t have amaxophobia nor was he claustrophobic in them. It had just been too long since he could comfortably sit in a car without worrying about hitmen or acting on a moment’s notice just in case the car was tampered with or his location was compromised. Hyper intuition only went so far and in such a narrow space, he was out of his element. He had plenty of close calls—towards him and his family. Although nothing major has yet to happen, Tsuna’s anxiety over “what-ifs?” made his leg bounce a mile a minute and fingers nearly tearing the buttons off his cuffs. In any other situation he would’ve been able to fake composure but this? This fear of waiting coupled with the feeling of insecurity from being away from his guardians only served to amplify his paranoia.

This was one of those rare things that even Reborn didn’t tease him about (up to a certain extent, of course). He would give warnings and looks to fix his posture but unlike his usual sadistic self, in these situations, he took a more serious yet understanding approach. In fact, this was a well-kept secret within the inner Vongola circle not to provoke the young boss in any way during transfers.

“Cielo, are you okay?” Fuyumi asked politely, turning her head back to see Tsuna’s stiff form squirming in the backseat.

“Just fine”—he dug his head into the headrest— “no need to worry,” he grunted.

She hummed like a mother catching her child in a lie. “Are you car sick? I have some medication that can help.” She shuffled around her bag, looking for the small pink tablet. “Natsuo gets motion sickness if he rides for too long so I always have some on hand.”

He tapped her seat to get her attention. “I’m fine, really.”

Fuyumi opened her mouth to argue but shut it with a small sigh. She had to remember that he wasn’t her friend or family member—he may see her as invasive if she asked too many questions. She couldn’t just banter with him like she did with Natsuo but she couldn’t help but notice he seemed… troubled. Maybe he had a fear of cars? Did something happen?

Worried, but respectful of his boundaries, she chose to instead periodically glance at him from the rearview mirror just to make sure his condition didn’t worsen.

“I know I said this before, but really, thank you for keeping him company,” she said trying to fill the silence. “I know taking care of Natsuo isn’t easy.”

Tsuna chuckled, his voice a little rougher than usual. “He’s not a difficult kid. I’ve dealt with so much worse— Ah, not in a bad way. Just… in terms of energy.”

He sighed, I-pin although her eccentricities at times made him panic, was a respectful and good child. Yuni and Futa were just sweethearts, if not an unintentional magnet for trouble. Lambo on the other hand…

Fuyumi blinked, turning to look at him. “Do you have siblings too? That explains why you’re so used to Natsuo’s antics.”

“Not blood related but I have younger brothers and sisters. He reminds me of them. Although one of my younger brothers can get”—trigger-happy—“hyperactive at times but he's a good kid— Oh? Did I say something funny?”

Tsuna raised an amused brow at the girl looking at him with an awed twinkle in her eye.

She shook her head, staring off with a forlorn smile on her face. “No, sorry, it’s just that— You must love your family a lot,” she said, her words heavy on her tongue.

It was a sentiment she didn’t see all that often. No, that was wrong. She’s seen it before, several times actually in movies and shows with “normal” families with “normal” people with “normal” interactions. The way he talked about his family made her feel like she was lacking something; the fact that he held such pure and simple devotion for somebody sprouted feelings she'd thought were gone.

In her childhood, before she made an effort to make connections outside her family, she’d always thought such interactions were solely the result of media dramatization. To her younger self, even something as simple as eating and sharing personal anecdotes together on one table seemed idealistic and odd. In her house, sharing anything at all was oversharing. When you eat, why would you talk? When you talk, why should it be about some inconsequential story about yourself?

It wasn’t until she started to interact with other children her age—other normal children her age—that she realized staying silent was considered weird. Children her age yelled and cried and spoke about the silliest things yet nobody reprimanded them for wasting time. Nobody said that their words were meaningless. Nobody was treated like they were worthless and ignored.

She could still vividly remember the time when the class got too rowdy and the supervising teacher told them to be quiet. Her heart had jumped to her throat, biting her lips together to suppress her fear. She wasn’t like Toya where she could detach herself from the situation. She wasn’t as "brave" as him. She had yet to develop techniques to contain her tears from dotting her eyes, to refrain from trembling and making a mess, to rather gag herself before a squeak could possibly leak out.

Meanwhile, the other students merely nodded, others just lowered their volume.

She was terrified.

She was terrified for them. Their teacher—an adult—told them to be silent yet the most they did was talk quieter. It didn’t matter if that teacher was known to be the kindest towards her students. Such "rebellious" behaviour was unheard of to her. What would happen? She didn’t have a frame of reference for what happened when you didn’t listen to an adult. Would she get angry? Would she hate them? She, and even Toya, never dared to go against their parents directly.

As she flushed from embarrassment and shame, the heat on her cheeks only making the white-hot fire rolling through her body from the pits of her stomach to the ends of her toes colder, teeth digging into her lips to keep them bound, nails burning red on her knees, waiting for the silence to choke her—

The teacher went back to work.

The class continued to talk.

Her friends asked her what was wrong.

And she just stared.

One thought truly sank in for the first time: this was what “normal” was. The movies and shows she’d watched and fantasize about didn’t dramatize normality—it underplayed it in her opinion. The “truths” and techniques she and Toya developed to live were different from the world outside the Todoroki name.

That was when she finally noticed it: the fondness people held for another. A type of fondness that triumphed over any conflicts. The same sort of exasperated fondness she’d seen from her friends and the students she tutored. The one that said, "okay, I disagree with you but I still love you". That was a type of connection she craved. A connection that wouldn’t sever from a few misplaced words and actions. 

The affection the hero in front of her held when talking about his family was more than anything she’d felt before. It was like pure gratitude and love came so simple to him. It felt as if she had tried opening a safe for hours on end with complex strategies and guesswork but then he came along with the answer as easy as “1234”.

Tsuna nodded, it wasn’t difficult to tell he loved his family. He also observed her reactions carefully, noting her expression.

“It’s weird seeing someone so happy talking about their family like that. I don’t see it often— Ah!” Fuyumi jumped, turning her body towards him. “Not that I’m calling you weird! I meant that it was strange— no, not strange! I don’t mean that heroes are weird either or aren’t happy. I wouldn’t know, it’s probably because I’m not that into heroes like Natsuo is. Not that I don’t respect the profession—”

“I’m not offended,” he added quickly.

“Yeah! Okay, okay… It’s just like— It’s not like I’ve never seen it or anything,” she defended.

“But some people are more private than others,” he clarified, to help calm her. “I get that.” His aloof Cloud came immediately to mind.

“Not exactly,” she muttered under her breath before shaking her head. “Sorry, I’m not usually like this, I swear.”

“I understand.” Either his Sky’s harmonizing factor was somehow unknowingly amplified in this universe or the pair of siblings were so pent up emotionally that it made their tongues loose. Perhaps it was a mutual influence of both factors since Sky Flames were not truth serums. Tsuna shivered at the thought of Reborn’s spartan lessons if that were true.

“Hah… I can already feel the pre-meeting migraine coming up,” he thought.

Fuyumi clenched her hands on her lap, knees pressed together, a red welt burning on her skin. She slowly looked away, chiding herself for being overly sensitive. She should’ve been used to such topics by now! And what was with that stutter? Those incoherent answers!? Why did she do that!? Did the villain attack rewire her brain or something? Why did she fumble over her words like that?

She felt a hot wash of shame cascading down her back. She cupped her cheeks with her hands, heat radiating off her skin, pretending to warm her hands instead of cooling them down with her Quirk.

Cielo was an observant person. Too observant. Idiot, idiot, idiot . Look what she did. Now he had that worried look on his face!

“Ugh… Why am I always like this?” she thought. “Why didn’t I just nod? I just made things awkward!”

A million scenarios ran through her head, showing all the actions she could’ve—should’ve—taken. Most of which were her staying silent and texting her friends or something. But she didn’t. He was just too close to the family that she couldn’t just be respectfully distant with him like her father’s other business associates. But still, he was too much of a stranger to just pour her feelings out like that! She barely knew the man!

“Oh my God…” She peeked a glance at him before quickly looking away. “His first impressions of me are being half-dead and stuttering like an insane person! He probably thinks I can’t even hold a simple conversation!”

Thankfully for both of them, each lost in their own thoughts, they failed to notice the other’s odd behaviour. Beyond the privacy glass, however, the driver pretended not to notice any of it.

Fuyumi cleared her throat, calming her nerves. She was already fifteen for goodness sake, not a child!

“A—Anyways Cielo, it must’ve been a long time since you visited your agency here right? I’ve heard from Natsuo that you usually spend your time in Italy.”

“Our Japanese branch started about three years ago by a close friend of mine. I haven’t been here in years actually.”

“Are they an underground hero as well?”

...Was he? Spanner didn’t mention anything specific. “He’s been in and out of the limelight but in general, we like to keep our work private.”

“But hero work is mostly funded on billboard ratings and media revenue, right? I’d understand contract work being paid higher than the average hero considering most underground heroes are given more dangerous jobs but is that enough to fund two agencies? The Italian HPSC and the Hero Association work similarly to the Japanese one, right?”

Great, time for the word game again!

“I’m unfortunately not entirely familiar with the economic and political side of the Japanese HPSC and the Hero Association but they should work similarly. Rest assured, the work our agency does is more than enough to keep things running smoothly.” Basil made sure of that.

“Your work? Is it dangerous? I heard underground work is morally grey. Do you do spy work like espionage as well? Do you work with INTERPOL? Because there was a documentary film made years ago detailing the life of a late underground hero—I can’t recall her name at the moment—she worked with an American billboard hero—I think she was in the top 10?—to hide her movements from a notorious villain group importing illicit drugs to impoverished countries. It made people’s Quirks go wild before dying from exhaustion. She had a hunch that the group was commissioned by a neighbouring country to disrupt the government to generate mass panic and weaken their border defences. In fact...”

Fuyumi went on about the obscure film, detailing each scene with such passion he’s only seen in Hayato when he found a particularly good conspiracy theory on UMAs. His lips quirked up, amused at how similar she and Natsuo looked when they were excited; their eyes wide and ears perked, fidgeting like they physically couldn’t hold back their excitement. The two were very expressive in their actions when they didn’t need to watch their words or actions—when they shared their interests and stories. He swore he could see sparkles dancing around her face as well.

And he had to admit when the topic wasn’t about her family, she knew how to carry a conversation well especially for someone so young.

Fuyumi flushed, seeing his expression. “I’m sorry for asking childish and invasive questions...and going on a tangent. I just”—she frantically combed through her hair, eyes suddenly finding the dirty mats interesting—“I’ve never met an underground hero before so...”

“It’s completely fine. I’m just surprised you’re so well informed. My impression of”—this universe—“most people were that they focus mostly on the prestigious part of heroics. Not many are interested in socioeconomic and geopolitical disparities behind the scenes, you know?”

“W—Well, I want to become a teacher and it’s good to be well-informed of these things. Besides, when your dad is the number two hero, you get to learn some things outside the public image. Dad doesn’t like the media all that much so we never grew up caring about all that.”

“Finally I can relate to one thing with that man,” he sighed before clearing his throat. “Sorry, that was rude.”

She shrugged. “I’ve heard worse comments and I can’t fault you for not liking him. Dad isn’t known for his sociability.”

“Miss Yuki said the same thing.”

She paused for a moment. “You've really never heard of Endeavor,” she slowly confirmed.

“I’m afraid not. I don’t—more so couldn’t—pay attention to the billboard. Where I was, such a thing was practically non-existent.”

Fuyumi made a noise not entirely believing his story. Not that she was suspecting him of lying! But to her, a world without the hero popularity board seemed “lacking” in a sense. It was like reading about the world before the digital revolution. She knew about it, believed it, but it seemed so outside her time that the eras before felt ancient and foreign.

“Then I hope you won’t be too surprised by his… assertiveness. It’s not exactly a secret dad is more work-oriented—he’s there to be a strong hero. You’ll hear a lot of things about him—I’m sure Natsuo said his fair share of things. I mean, just look at anything the media has written about him you’ll know that he’s very... forward.”

“I know better than to trust rumours and stories.” At least at face value. “I always try to withhold final judgement until I’ve met the person… even if they were shown in a negative light,” he added carefully, sensing her need to defend her family.

Fuyumi so desperately wanted to refute those statements; to say that the media was wrong and misunderstanding her father’s actions. She dreamed and fantasized about a universe where her father was a good man, someone like Gang Orca, who, despite his “villain” like appearance, was a kind albeit strict man. But all she could say was:

“He’s very passionate.”

“So I’ve heard.”

She bit her lower lip, squirming. “You don’t understand. He’s really, really passionate about his work.”

Tsuna placed his hand on her seat, giving her a reassuring look. It was obvious that she was split between defending the man or him.

“Trust me, in my line of work, I’ve met people who would shoot me on sight as a friendly greeting.”

He laughed but she couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He continued.

“When you have experience in keeping two beasts from wrangling the other’s throat and subsequently all those who try to interfere every Christmas, big men in suits stop being intimidating.”

What happened at last year's Christmas Gala would haunt him for life.

“Oh… Did your reformed villain… companions? Have wild animal Quirks?”

“Honestly, they might as well have.” Even that would've been preferable to Flames, realistic illusions, and tonfas.

“Okay?” she replied confused but supportive to his exasperation. “Well, if you need anything, I’ll be at the main house. Please don’t hesitate to drop by, it’s the least I can do. You’re going to visit your agency first, right?”

He nodded. “I’ll be heading towards Endeavor’s agency afterwards.” Tsuna glanced outside, the sunset looking back at him as they approached the city. “Maybe tomorrow instead. From what Miss Yuki said, as long as I attend by the end of this week, I’ll be fine provided I give them a heads up.”

Well, more precisely, she said, “drop by at your convenience. If Endeavor is so desperate, he can get off his silver throne and beg.” 

“Although so far as what I’ve heard, Endeavor didn’t tell me the reason as to why he arranged this meeting.”

Fuyumi ran her fingers through her hair. “Well, this is just our theory and I’m not a hundred percent sure but you can use both ice and fire, right?”

He hummed affirmatively. “Natsuo mentioned that your youngest brother has something similar as well?”

“Ah, so you’ve already heard of Shoto.” She shuffled her feet, continuing with mixed emotion. “Dad likes to dote on him and although having multiple Quirks of similar qualities are uncommon, the combination like those of Shoto’s Quirks are practically one-of-a-kind. So I guess it’s natural that he wanted you to tutor him or something.”

He sure hopes not. He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Reborn if his students came out as anything less than perfect.

Tsuna crossed his arms, giving her an apologetic look. “I’m honestly not sure I could help if that's the case. My flames don’t react as regular fire would. Besides, I’m no teacher.”

“Then, at least it’ll be a short meeting?” she tried to... console?

“Hopefully.” I intend to. “What about your brother?”

“He’s stuck with dad… and mom,” she added quietly. “Anyways, if you end up teaching Shoto, you’ll probably be invited into the main house anyways. Mom doesn’t like Shoto going to the agency after all.”

She could still remember the argument her parents had that one night. She only picked up a few keywords but the intensity of their voices echoing through the halls imprinted itself in her memory.

“But don’t worry! I’ll be there too," she encouraged. "So if anything comes up you can come talk to me.”

He didn't know if her statement said more about her parents or him if he actually said yes. A grown man going to a teenager for aid in this scenario? Not that he thought of her as incapable, of course. But hiding behind a child left a bad taste in his mouth. He would die from embarrassment faster than Reborn could get to him.

“Thank you, but I’m sure I can handle whatever comes my way.”

She gasped. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re weak or anything!”

Tsuna held back a frown. He needed to clarify things, the anxiety rolling off of her reminded him of Chrome in their younger days.

“I didn’t take it that way. Don’t worry about it. Thank you, Fuyumi.”

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

Tsuna and Fuyumi turned to look at the driver who had lowered the privacy guard. He gestured towards the fairly plain-looking building nestled in between similar ones like it.

“Sorry, don’t mean to interrupt you both but we’ve arrived.”

Chapter Text

Emergency exits on the far left side of the building. Not ideal but adequate.

Eighteen windows visible with blinds and latches. Two with visuals on the inside covered by plants.

First floor has uneven window spacing—indication of a private meeting room? Second and Third floors have even spacing for office use.

Top floor has the largest window—either the boss’s office or an observation deck. Wait. Also has decoy windows—perhaps a communications area? Fourteen windows.

Reinforced concrete, glass, copper, and metals used for exterior. Shouldn't be a problem. Copper used for top floor—confirmation of communications bay?

Buildings surround it look similar in style but lack human presence—empty, decoys, or storage?

Tsuna entered the plain-looking building after seeing Fuyumi off and following the directions he was given by Shoichi. As he opened the main door, a woman with large antlers in a sleek business suit looked up at him from the front desk. She walked towards him, her steps purposeful and fluid, her height towering over his.

“Welcome back to Japan Cielo,” she greeted as she bowed politely. “My name is Rosemary, the director of the Vongola Hero Network. Please follow me for the tour.”

Confident. Her voice and mannerisms conveyed a sense of strength and meticulousness. In fact… “She seems a lot like Oregano and Lal Mirch,” he thought.

Tsuna stood up straight into a familiar, inviting yet professional posture. “A pleasure.”

While the break was great while it lasted, it was time for work.

“..and on the top floor is your office. Basil mentioned you like your privacy so he left us instructions not to touch your office besides dusting the place on occasion,” Rosemary said as the elevator dinged.

Although the building was bare and plain from the outside, the inside was much more decorated and professional—looking like an actual business office instead of an abandoned lot. If he didn’t have his hyper intuition to state otherwise, he would’ve thought that the agency was cloaked in Mist Flames with how inconspicuous it looked. The interior was a modernized version of the main Vongola HQ mixed in with a little CEDEF—probably not Basil’s decision as he was quite traditionalistic in his tastes. Tsuna, on the other hand, welcomed it. As much as he liked the Italianate, Revival styles of the nineteenth century, he really didn’t want to be reminded of the mafia right now. The building itself wasn’t large but he could see that it had a good environment—adequate cubicles, good spacing, electricity, ventilation, heat, plumbing, sanitation, atmosphere, a kitchen and a lounge area close to the windows, and individual offices. All in all, the property was an amazing find considering Basil started off with nothing.

“Thank you, Rosemary,” Tsuna said as they both got off the elevator. “Is your office there as well or...?”

“My office is on this floor like the others. Basil's is here as well. However, next to your room is the communications bay.”

He nodded. “That makes more sense. May I ask what that hidden room on the first floor is for?”

Rosemary blinked twice. “Basil said that you were sharp. It’s a private meeting room for our more ‘elite’ clients.” The government. “Oh, before I forget, Basil didn’t take any sidekicks so it’s just the business and communications department working here.”

As they walked around the office, Tsuna pretended not to notice the curious stares of his new employees peeking through their cubicles.

“He also informed us that you would be out of touch with modern society due to your last mission.” Nice save, Basil! “If you have any questions, please feel free to ask.”

“Thank you. I can see why Basil placed you in charge.”

Her lips quirked up meeting the curled ends of her hair. “I co-founded with the agency with him so I’m very familiar with how the it runs.” No wonder the building didn’t look like a hot mess. “Oh, that reminds me, Endeavor Hero Agency called about a meeting. Did you know about this?”

He nodded. “I’m planning to go tomorrow. Although the reason as to why isn’t confirmed yet.”

“I see. Considering the time frame they gave you, I doubt it’s anything urgent. I’ll make the call for you. Would tomorrow at noon work?”

Basil, how did you find this wonderful woman and can she join the main famiglia? In fact, many people he interacted with had the makings of a good Vongola mafioso—calm, clever, and caring. Not only that, having powers from a different universe always had their weight in merits (anti-Flame weapons can go screw themselves). Seriously, can you imagine how many people he can find with his hyper intuition alone—

A shudder passed through his spine.

“Oh my God. I’m becoming like Reborn by the day,” he thought fearfully. He wasn’t exactly the best influence.

Tsuna nodded, subtly placing his hand over Natsu’s box hung on his belt, muffling the quiet chuckles. He was so much cuter in his ring form. “It does, thank you.”

“The necessary forms for your arrival are on your desk but otherwise I believe that is it—”

“So you’re our mysterious and elusive boss, eh?” A young man’s head popped out from the cubicle wall next to Tsuna, shooting him an easy-going smile. “I never thought I’d see the day— OW!”

“Don’t be rude Borage,” Rosemary admonished.

Tsuna almost sputtered. “Borage?”

Rubbing his arm, Borage turned his attention back at Tsuna. “Oh yeah, you wouldn’t know but Basil gave us names to use around the agency. Actually... it was more like us teasing him about his name and making some for ourselves cause, y’know,"—he shrugged—"fun. It was supposed to be a joke— to break the ice and all. But I guess along the way it kind of stuck.”

“If you'd prefer our real names that’s fine as well,” Rosemary interrupted, “we know it’s a tad odd.”

Tsuna waved his hand. “No, no. I just thought it was too much of a coincidence. Back in Italy, Basil also has a team under him with subordinates named after herbs and spices. Please pay me no mind. It’s basically your hero name, right?”

The room suddenly went quiet, Tsuna internally panicking at the silence that followed, before the room erupted into laughter. Even Rosemary seemed to be amused.

Borage rubbed his eye, wheezing from laughter. “Basil wasn’t wrong when he said that the boss was a cool dude.”

At Tsuna’s confusion, Rosemary clarified, “to most people, regular civilians and employees who have ‘hero’ names are frowned upon.”

Tsuna furrowed his brows. “I’d understand if the name was already taken or used for exploitive purposes but…?”

“It’s a faux pas. Some people see it as arrogant, you know? Like if you’re a kid, whatever, but once you hit twenty, suddenly you’re supposed to be either a hero, villain, or civilian,” he added, waving sarcastic little jazz hands.

That was stupid. “I see. Well, I have no intention to stop such a harmless action. Clearly the agency was running smoothly with Rosemary in charge so I don’t see any reason to change anything. No need for formalities. Please, don’t let me ruin your dynamic.”

The room went silent again before erupting in cheer.

“Fuck yeah!”

“Job security plus a chill boss!”

“It makes the nicknames worth it.”

Rosemary sighed, apologizing to Tsuna about their co-worker’s “excitability”. He paid it no mind, more surprised than anything. He didn’t think an underground hero agency would carry such liveliness but then again, the Vongola always attracted the most eccentric people.

Clap! Clap!

“Alright, alright!” She announced, cutting through the noise. “Everyone, get back to work. Chervil, please finish filing the incident reports on the South Asian drug exports by today. Juniper, did you get the case on Quirk amplification trade? Good. Borage, stop staring at Cielo. Anise please start on this month’s spreadsheets if you haven’t already. Everyone else, you know what to do.”

As Tsuna shut the doors to his office, he let out an exasperated sigh, slouching a little. Reborn would absolutely shoot his spine if he saw how “un-boss-like” he was but he wasn’t here now was he?

He looked around the office and saw that Rosemary wasn’t lying when she said that they left the place untouched besides some occasional maintenance (not that he doubted her). The oak desk was spotless save for a few packages neatly tucked into the corner with an intercom next to it. But if they had touched anything, he would know. Basil tended to leave markers in, on, and around his desk so that a mechanism would silently trigger if any of the drawers were tampered with. It was similar to his desks made by Spanner and Giannini back home (who often competed with each other with their craft) but Basil liked to construct the triggers himself.

He circled around the desk, inspecting it for any hidden latches or compartments, his hands sliding underneath the desk placing pressure on his thumb until— click! Bingo.

“Now let’s see...” Tsuna crouched as he slid out a thin panel below the desk, taking out a small blue package with a Flame seal protecting it. He slipped out under the table and sat on the plush office chair, propping his arm against the armrest and his cheek.

Unlocking the seal, he read its contents:

Greetings Decimo.

If it be true thou art reading this, then thee has stumbled upon this strange world like I had. Thankfully, thee had arrived after I, as we would not want to have another ēldlive incident, would we? I shall outline as much of the world as possible during mine own stay here.

Okay, yeah, no he was going to paraphrase this.

First and foremost, the hero agency section of the report detailed how the “Vongola Hero Network” was less of a traditional hero office and more so of a secret intelligence agency working in the background alongside the Hero Public Safety Commission (HPSC) and the Hero Association—which was another branch of the HPSC that dealt more with the actual implementation of Quirk laws.

“So something similar to the intelligence branch of the CEDEF but legal.”

The Vongola Hero Network had thirteen people including Basil before he had left, and more in counting. Other agents, government supervisors, underground heroes, and such were unaccounted for as they were more so partners than employees. The Network was founded by Basil, Rosemary, and apparently himself. He and Basil were underground heroes and was the face of the company while Rosemary was the brains, guiding Basil around this universe as well as managing most of the agency.

“Lucky. Where did you find someone so competent?”

In this world, heroes were basically the CEOs of a company (if they opened their own). He was given this position as Basil wouldn’t think of placing the Vongola Decimo in a lower position than himself.

“I wouldn’t have minded, you know. Less work for me.”

Basil explained to the Network that as an underground hero already engaged in business overseas, he was the sole communicator between Tsuna and the company. And due to this world’s lack of Flames, forging his signature for legal documents was easy. Basil apologized but knew he wouldn’t have minded. He briefly mentioned doing some other things under his name but Tsuna barely gave it a thought. He trusted Basil.

Personally, both men wouldn’t label their network as a “hero agency” but management was much easier under legal supervision if they played by the Underground Hero Privacy Protection Sector. The UHPPS protected the morally grey areas of heroics and gave more freedom to do what was essentially monitored legal vigilante work.

“Daemon Spade would’ve had a field day with this one.”

The only downside to this was the mandatory missions given by the HPSC and the Association. This, in turn, meant that those particular cases were forcibly given priority under greater governmental supervision. Otherwise, it was better to work with the system through its loopholes as Basil outlined some of the fragile laws of this universe (some of which Tsuna had already suspected). Considering the time period they landed in, the awkward post-transitional period from “normal” laws to a Quirk-based one, the government was terribly weak and ill-suited for the current world.

“I guess some things just never change.”

Tsuna quickly read through the papers, silently thanking his external advisor for saving him the hassle of playing word games for any longer. The rest of the report detailed the universe: Quirks, the Hero system, and the organizations involved—including the importance of the hero billboard itself. In most of his reports, however, the name “All Might” came up multiple times as did “Endeavor” (although significantly less).

Tsuna hummed, leaning into his arm. “Maybe I should’ve came here first. Would've saved me from having mini panic attacks.”

Flipping to the last page, his eyes were immediately drawn to the highlighted note at the back.

Please note! Animals with Quirks art very rare as is possessing multiple Quirks. So it is most vital to stick to thy Sky Flames, Decimo. Use Natsu only in his Cambio Forma modes, if it be needed. Although thee would not be targeted for it, it will draw unnecessary attention and we all know thee has a certain affinity for trouble.

“Okay, yeah, wow . I really should’ve come here first.”

Tsuna sighed, leaning back on his seat, letting his body sag against the chair. Millions of different scenarios and actions ran through his mind as he factored in the new information. Basil and Rosemary had set the agency up so that it could run independently from the Vongola mafia which honestly saved him from the whole “the boss is back and now he’s leaving and we don’t know what to do” thing he dealt with, what, two, three accidental portals ago?

Back to the matter at hand, he didn’t know exactly what to do if the meeting with Endeavor was indeed about his youngest and most favoured son. He didn’t want the agency to be targeted, or be given negative attention due to his decisions. Even if this Endeavor wasn’t a petty man, refusing a powerful person could create unforeseen ripples. 

But even if he wanted to, he couldn’t exactly say yes. About half an hour before his departure from the Todoroki estate, Shoichi and Spanner mentioned something about minor interferences which prevented his return for an unspecified amount of time. They had said that the problem was relatively harmless but when you were playing with space-time, it was better to mitigate any possible risk. So it wasn’t like he knew when he was leaving. Even if he did, he doubted it would take any longer than a month—not nearly enough time to safely guide a child with what was essentially a weapon in their hands.

He couldn't delay his return either when the machine was fixed. At most, he got a few days to a few hours heads-up. He knew from experience when he once asked if it were possible during his “trip” to Primo’s era. All he got was a monotone, “do you think space-time manipulation is that easy?” by a very overworked Shoichi, Spanner, and Giannini. To be fair, Flames itself originated from space-time manipulating aliens. But more importantly, the Vongola accidentally transported way too many people into way too many weird universes and time periods that honestly? Tsuna thought it actually was that easy!

He got sidetracked again.

Going back to the topic at hand, he really wanted to get involved. Not for Endeavor of course. But he’d spent too much time with the Todorokis and got attached. Which in Tsuna’s book of unlikely relationships basically meant that he had already taken them under his protection.

He placed a hand over his chest, and closed his eyes to think. Tapping his fingers on the armrest, he debated over his decisions. He wasn’t the type to half-ass things anymore and that meant actually choosing and committing to his actions instead of reluctantly following Reborn’s whims.

So what to do? 

He knew Natsuo wouldn't blame him if he couldn't deliver the letter. It was obvious from his words and actions that he didn't expect him to actually do it—he was probably thinking "what have I got to lose?" Which—ugh—made his heart clench thinking of his dejected, hopeless hopefulness. He absolutely refused to go against his words—his promise. But it wasn't like he could go up to the man and say, "Hey, I got a letter from your estranged son. For you? No. It's for his family that you kept behind that favouritism of yours!" Well, he wouldn't exactly say those words but... you know.

Gao!

Tsuna opened his eyes when he felt Natsu’s box rattling in annoyance. He lit his ring aflame and unlocked the box, a ball of Sky Flames revealing a very irritated Natsu sitting on his lap.

“Gao! Gao!” he cried, slapping his head with his paw.

Why are you hesitating?— he seemed to demand— You already know the answer!

Tsuna sighed, trying to block the swats. “You know I can’t make a large decision without thinking first. Can you imagine what Reborn would do if I just dove into unknown territory? Delayed my return, leaving the Vongola?”

He gave him a blank stare. Nerd. “Gao.” And like you haven’t done that before.

Natsu cried, his mane flaring up, flicking his tail on his chest where the letter was. He gently bit his hand, drawing attention to his ring. His eyes burned orange.

Tsuna blinked owlishly before snorting. “You’re right, you’re right,” he admitted as he scratched Natsu under his chin. “Questioning my resolve, what am I? No-good Tsuna again?”

Natsu purred, chuffing. Sometimes his partner needed some reminders that he was the boss for a reason. Sometimes it was good to be a little selfish! They deserved it!

“We make our own rules now, don’t we? And if Shoichi and Spanner got me here with their irresponsibility in the first place, well, I doubt Hayato would mind me giving them a little punishment,” Tsuna chuckled darkly.

Maybe Byakuran wasn’t the greatest influence either.

“You know me too well." He massaged his cheeks, brushing the soft fur. "You’re really the better of us.”

Natsu huffed, puffing out his chest, legs uncomfortably pressing into his chest and thighs.

Tsuna tucked his hands under his forelimbs, lifting him up like a human child. His forelegs stuck out, his hindlegs still on his lap. He gently shook him, his forelimbs waddling from side to side as he flicked his tail.

“You’re not a cub anymore, Natsu. You’re heavy.”

Natsu shoved his paw on Tsuna’s face in response.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Natsu whined, his ears drooping, returning to his box. Tsuna shuffled the papers together, storing them in the drawer for later disposal.

“Door’s open,” Tsuna said, sweeping the table of any traceable evidence and pulling the papers out of their envelopes.

Familiar amber hair poked out from behind the door. “Hey, boss! It’s— um Borage, by the way. Just in case I didn’t leave a lasting impression,” he teased. “Woah. Started already?"—he stared at the pile of signed papers—"Rosemary wanted me to tell you that she booked the meeting with Endeavor’s for you.”

“Thank you, but… you walked all the way here to tell me that?" Tsuna held a pen in his hand, completing the act. "Why didn’t you use the intercom?”

“Aww… Am I not good company?” He pouted before returning to his easy smile. “I also brought up some extra papers that need signing. Sorry, about adding to that pile. It’s been in our files since forever.”

He raised a brow. “Oh?”

“No one else knew how to get in contact with you and Basil only checks in once a month.” He walked over to his desk, placing the papers down. “Must be some mission over in Italy, huh?”

“So that’s why he had that weird communicator commissioned,” Tsuna thought as he nodded.

“So boss how long you staying for this time?”

“I’m not sure—” Tsuna froze before quickly regaining his composure. “ This time?”

Unaware, Borage continued. “The last time we saw you was—actually since one of us saw you—was years ago and you flew off so fast I barely caught you!”

He fucking WHAT!? “Really?” he asked innocently. “I must've missed you.”

“Yeah. Basil said your speed was impressive but seeing in real life? Damn. I doubt even the press had enough time to capture a blurry photo of you. Heh. There’s probably only about one half-decent picture of you in existance and that’s from Quirks on Location from a few weeks ago. We had to pull some strings so your identity wouldn’t be covered by the big media outlets. They love sinking their fangs into underground heroes. Good job by the way. The cover up was a pain but damn if that shot wasn’t awesome.”

“Yes. Thank you. May I ask what you saw last time I was here? My work takes me into weird locations so sometimes the details become muddled.” Lies. As if Reborn didn’t make him memorize every mission he did by heart.

Borage stared at him as if he suddenly grew an extra head. “Damn, didn’t even think you had flaws,” he muttered under his breath.

“Yeah, um, the one from years ago? You were fighting Alto Mach with Basil. I think that hero uh… Present Mic! helped too since he’s familiar with auditory-emitter type Quirks. Basil’s good but soundwaves aren’t something you can hit.”

“He must’ve handicaped himself to fit into whatever narrative he created for himself,” Tsuna silently concluded. There was no way the boss of the CEDEF couldn’t handle something as simple as that.

“Present Mic helped out by cancelling Alto Mach’s Quirk but his Quirk isn’t suited for noise-cancelling so we weren’t in the best match-up. God, I can still feel the ringing in my ear. We were hoping Eraserhead would come since he patrols nearby but then you just came out of nowhere! I didn’t see much but there was this sweep of orange light and the villain was down! Crumpled to the floor!”

Tsuna wondered if his body double was Alfin. He couldn't think of anyone else since Basil himself was already in the fight. Considering how fast the dolphin moved, he could’ve easily used the Rain Flame’s tranquility factor to knock the villain out. But Rain Flames were blue. How did he mistake a blue dolphin for him?

“Honestly? If it weren’t for Basil's report, I would’ve thought I was seeing things. You flew off so fast, I think the only thing captured by the media was a misty smoke trail from your fire.”

"Mist?" Ohhh. Now he understood what Basil did.

After the, what, seventh? Eighth? Ninth time? They went through Tsuna and his bad luck stumbling into open portals, the Vongola commissioned Mammon, Chrome, and Verde along with their research bureau to create Mist illusions boxes that would contain realistic illusions of Tsuna (which he did not condone because that was creepy!). Unfortunately, the research went cold as the illusions were useless against strong Mist users or people with high enough Flame recognition (which in Tsuna’s circle meant everyone). It seemed that nothing, not even the world’s strongest Mists or scientists, could recreate his power. Not that they didn’t try—or kept trying (Mukuro and Verde, those madmen). The box was only used for public appearances and the occasional interdimensional travel. The illusions couldn’t even put up a decent fight (in mafia standards) and were reliant on the user’s own Flames. At most, the Mist Flames only changed whatever Flame colour the user had to orange so even then, from a visual standpoint, the boxes weren’t used often.

He didn’t know why Reborn insisted on every member of the Vongola with leadership roles to carry it back then, but he realized why now .

Sometimes he wondered if Reborn had hyper intuition or future vision like Yuni.

“I see, it must’ve been during one of my brief transits through Japan. Sorry I couldn’t stay and chat that time.”

“It’s no problemo, boss. You’re a hero and an underground one at that. Besides you and Basil must be the only heroes I’ve ever met that apologizes for stuff like this. Except for All Might maybe? But the man’s heroism is on a whole nother level.”

His personality and work ethic must be great because in Tsuna’s mind, he couldn’t attach that gaudy image of red, white, and blue with this messiah figure everyone was talking about. Trying to make sense of the discrepancy between the most boisterous "American" person he's ever seen and the "symbol of peace" gave him a headache. Not that he was one to talk. He listed in the top ten most "wolf in sheep's clothing"-looking dons. Literally. Futa ranked him in the top ten most powerful baby-faced mafia dons in the world. Although he grew out of his doe-eyed and thin stature, comparatively, his features weren’t as hardened as the other dons.

“Well, it should be common courtesy.” Tsuna quickly skimmed the papers on his desk, pretending to find where he had left off. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to tackle this pile of paperwork sooner rather than later.”

“Aww… kicking me out already?” Borage winked lazily. "Well, I can't help but be a distraction."

Tsuna shook his head letting out an amused sigh. He and Lambo would get along great.

“Alright, alright. I'll give you space,” he said as he walked out. But just before he closed the door, his head poked through the crack. “Oh yeah! We’ve got a welcome dinner planned so come down at eight!”

Tsuna nodded as the door closed. He looked down, the piles of unfinished paperwork staring back at him, the tablet on his desk flickering wildly as years of unread messages and documents came flying in. He groaned.

It was time for work.

Chapter Text

Modern skyscraper with… over thirty floors.

Large tinted panes, probably reinforced but fixed to its frames. No decoys from visual observation.

Satellites and antennas—an agency with both money and backing. Has limelight heroism as well as intelligence and communications. 

Clean exterior and interior. Luxurious.

Surrounding lots are far from building—stands out.

Tsuna thanked the driver and followed Endeavor’s secretary into the building but not before making some quick safety observations. It certainly wasn’t a building he would call "secure" but considering the difference in their professions, it was adequate.

Except for one thing.

Tsuna desperately tried not to stare at the big metal  “E” with Hot Wheels style flames sprouting from it placed right above the entrance, his inner fashionista (Reborn) telling him to gauge his eyes out rather than stare at that thing for any longer.

"It's certainly... loud," Tsuna thought.

Don’t get him wrong, he knew he was being judgemental. But the fact that this was a known public figure coupled with his high billboard status (which apparently was very integral to the socio-economic system in this universe), he would’ve thought he’d hire a designer or something. Seriously, were all heroes this gaudy and loud with their presentation? Did they have to be in order to stay on the billboard? Or was this just an accepted design choice in this universe?

Oh, God... what if it was? Next thing you knew, there would be a trend of people wearing pants that didn’t reach their ankles!

He dug his nails into his palms, physically holding himself back from screaming out these questions.

“Is there something bothering you, Cielo?” the secretary asked as they entered the elevator.

He stared at Tsuna’s clenched hands and stiff jaw, sparing him a sympathetic glance. It must be hard for a young hero, he thought, the boss doesn’t tone it down for anyone.

He slid his card in the security slot and pressed the button for Endeavor’s office.

“It’s nothing,” Tsuna replied, straightening his back and giving him a reassuring look. No matter how much his inner self—that was forced to sit through hours of the Vongola architectural historians’ aesthetical rants—screamed, he didn’t want to seem rude.

“Many heroes are intimidated by Endeavor but he’s a fair man,” he tried to console, “he likes heroes with drive and passion and from what we’ve seen on Quirks on Location, you got that in spades!”

“Thank you.” Reborn was going to kill him for being careless enough to be noticed by the media. “Drive and passion, you say? I can certainly see that, it’s quite busy here.”

He saw heroes of various Quirks and costumes moving about—some of them typing away on their computers, others changing shifts from standby to action, and vice versa. He counted over twenty people working here and he doubted there weren’t more in this giant building. It felt weird not scoping out a building before a meeting. Or having his family here with him. It really put into perspective how much he's changed from bumbling civilian to mafia don. He hoped that people wouldn't notice his slight apprehension and think of him as overly paranoid.

“We have over thirty sidekicks working around the clock!” he said with pride as the elevator chimed. “We aren’t one of the top hero agencies in Japan for nothing!”

As they both walked through the row of desks, Tsuna internally sighed at the enormous, heavy dark wooden doors of Endeavor’s office splitting the weird Japanese-European styled walls. Oddly enough, it matched the room. Not the tiled floors though. Or the cubicles.

After the entrance, this doesn’t even surprise me. The man’s ego was certainly reflected in his space.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Endeavor, sir? Cielo's here to see you,” the man said as he reached for the door handle.

“Come in,” replied a deep, muffled voice from behind the door.

He pushed the heavy doors open, revealing what seemed to be a large western-style room with long stretches of space, giving it an empty and cold feeling. An elaborate crystal chandelier hung above the oak coffee table surrounded by plush mahogany armchairs. An enormous Persian carpet stretched from the guest chairs to Endeavor’s Bubinga wood desk at the end of the room. Despite having a giant chandelier, the room was only lit by the large panes on the side of the room, light stretching shadows to the opposite side.

“So finally we meet,” Tsuna thought as he entered the room.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.” The secretary bowed politely as he shut the doors.

Tsuna could only see Endeavor's back standing behind his desk, a flurry of fire roaring around the lines of his costume. His head was mostly obscured by the large tufts of flames circling his shoulders almost like a lion's mane. He had to admit, the man was big. Like, really big. His skin-tight costume outlined his muscles, large and imposing. He wasn’t intimidated but he certainly understood why other people might’ve been. He had a daunting aura around—

“Cielo,” he greeted, turning to face him.

Oh...

Oh no...

Forget what he said about that “E”. The true ostentatious one was in front of him.

“Oh, mio Dio… Porca troia!” Tsuna clenched his jaws to refrain from scream-laughing.

His mask was fire—which okay, the past Vongola generation bosses did as well back when he was being judged on his resolve but those were Sky Flames! Not literal fucking fire sitting on your face! Okay, maybe that wasn’t a big deal but was just his face on fire?! Why was his face on fire!? For what purpose!? Didn’t that hurt his skin!? This was real fire, right? Wasn’t this a fire hazard!? Especially in an enclosed space with flammable objects!? No, he couldn’t be that much of a dunce. So he must’ve— OH MY F— Did he… Did he account for that and make everything fireproof just for his fire aesthetic??? If so, why? Why!? Why would he do that?????? Yes, it wasn’t the weirdest thing he’s seen but, like, wasn’t this a public figure?????? Also, weren’t emitter type Quirks something that had to be consciously used or exerted? Did he actually set his face on fire just for his theme??????????? HE HAD SO MANY QUESTIONS-

“Endeavor,” he replied coolly.

Tsuna walked towards the man, confident in his steps, holding out a hand. “It seems we finally meet. I’ve heard a bit about you.”

He stared down at the hand before he let out huff through his nose. “You’re better than most other heroes in my presence.” He took his hand in a firm grip, dwarfing over his. “Good. Too many heroes these days have no backbone.”

I’m sorry, was the flaming beard and mustache combo supposed to be intimidating? No. He refused to believe that that this was anything else but a man committing to his theme. No. He refused to think this was any sane man’s conscious decision for gaining dominance.

“—especially ones called by myself.”

No. No. Go and put on your clown shoes. Go!

Oh wait, it seemed like he was already wearing it judging from those literal on-fire boots. Why in the world were there shoelaces and how were they, out of all things, not the ones on fire???

“My line of work leaves no room for baseless fear.” Tsuna gritted his teeth, trying to hold himself from laughing or breaking down in hysterics, or both. Probably both.

Endeavor stared at his stiff jaws before turning away. “You say one thing, but your face says otherwise.” He circled around his desk, sitting in one of the plush armchairs. “No matter. Hurry up and sit. We have much to discuss.”

Tsuna followed in suit, sitting across him with his legs crossed, back straight, even shoulders, and weaved hands on his knees. Professional but relaxed. Contrasting with Endeavor’s imposing stance, his legs spread open, taking up all the space, and more, on the already large seat. If these chairs weren’t custom made, he would’ve definitely been spilling out of his chair by now from all that muscle.

Appearances are one thing, but let's see if he can use them.

“So, Endeavor,” Tsuna started, “I’ve been wondering about this meeting for quite some time now. Although your end never gave me a reason as to why. I suspect this isn’t partnership against villains since you didn’t go through the Hero Association.”

He frowned. Or maybe he was glaring at him? It was hard to tell from the fire obscuring his permanent scowl.

“This matter is more... personal.”

Tsuna raised a brow. “Oh?” Was Fuyumi's guess correct?

“You’re an underground hero unrecognizable even within the underground community. And yet your Quirk would state otherwise.”

“How did you know? I’m fairly certain I kept myself hidden well.” Considering he’s never even been in this dimension before. Maybe Basil? "Although I suppose I made one such blunder a few weeks ago. But I must say, I'm surprised that you would take notice of a small local editorial."

“My kids,” he said simply.

There was little worry in his voice. Was he this neglectful or did he not have a full grasp on the situation that his children nearly died? Or was heroics similar to the mafia where assassinations on children were considered normal?

Endeavor moved on. “Your Quirk is better suited for the limelight. Underground work relies on stealth, no?”

Someday it was going to bite him in the ass if he thought Quirks made the profession. “If you’re extending a job proposition at your agency, I must refuse.”

He looked at him as if he’d just insulted him. “I’m not desperate for sidekicks.” He slid a thin file. “I’d like to offer you an opportunity. I’m sure underground heroes don’t get much financial coverage, do they.”

Oh. Oh. He’s playing that game.

“I’m fairly content with what I have, Endeavor,” Tsuna replied, giving his business smile, drumming his fingers on the armrest. “Despite the stigma against underground heroes, we’re quite resourceful.”

He gave a short noncommittal hum, gesturing to open the file.

“But I am intrigued as to the reason”—he took out the documents, scanning over the words—“why a hero of your calibre would ask for someone like me. Especially as a 'Quirk Specialist Home Tutor'.”

He neatly stacked the papers into a pile and leaned back slightly on his chair, exuding a level of confidence even Xanxus would be proud of. Endeavor, on the other hand, flashed a brief look of surprise at the speed in which the man sitting across him read and processed the information before returning to his glare.

“Don’t take me for a fool.” Ah, so he can recognize useless pleasantries. “I’ve heard from good sources that you wield both fire and ice Quirks.” Basil, was quite prepared, wasn’t he? “I’ll be frank. My youngest son wields two Quirks; the ability to control ice from my wife and fire from myself. I want you to teach my youngest son how to control his ice.”

“And not the fire?”

“I’m more than capable of handling his left side by myself.” Arrogance, projection, or both? “What I want is for you to teach him to balance—on top of his ice. But before that,"—the fire around him flickered and roared—"I’d like to test your power for myself.”

Oh man, he really didn't hear himself, did he? Or maybe he did but he had his head so far up his own ass that it popped right back into place.

The man grinned as if he was talking about business instead of a human being, a child—his child. It was a twisted form of affection—prideful and cold. And yet, behind it, there was a genuine sense of affection. A sense of pride any parent would have for their child. But twisted. So, so twisted.

Tsuna couldn’t tell if the man was so resolved in his own decisions that it prevented him from looking past his self-imposed blinders or if he seriously thought isolation and favouritism were some sort of bonding activity. Either way, his actions were toxic.

“—After all, I can’t have my son fraternize with the weak when I’ve already invested so much in him.”

That. Tone.

Tsuna took back everything he said about his own father being similar to this dumpster fire of a man. Iemitsu was a negligent, confusing, horrible father but at least he had enough moral integrity to be considered a decent human being by the mafia standards. At least he didn’t project himself into his child like a pageant mom going through a midlife crisis living vicariously through their children.

Now, Tsuna wasn't a person to judge someone quickly—he was someone who always gave the benefit of the doubt. Innocent until proven guilty. A chance at redemption. At least he tried to be. But he was slowly losing his patience. This was the man that made a sweet child like Natsuo doubt his actions, questioning his own resolve. This was the man that made a sweet girl like Fuyumi grow up faster than she should’ve, forced to shoulder the responsibilities of others. This was the man who isolated his children to the point where one of them felt like fleeing his only home was the better option.

He was so thankful that Reborn taught him mafia etiquette or else he might’ve started something he couldn't end peacefully right then and there. Not that he had a problem with that but he didn’t want to risk hurting the people he's met. Unforeseen consequences can go screw itself.

“A test? Against the number two hero?” He saw Endeavor’s eyes twitch at the title as he smiled through his heated glare.

“You think you can play the passive-aggressive game? I’ve been the reigning champion since I was born. How the hell do you think I haven’t gone insane from Reborn’s training?” Tsuna thought devilishly to himself, tilting his head innocently.

“May I ask what kind of test it’ll be? A show of strength? A sparring session? And might know the limitations and parameters of this test?”

“A one on one battle. I’ll provide the location so you can use your Quirk properly against me. I saw you once before, years ago.” Basil sure got around with that doppelganger box, didn't he? “Usually, other heroes don’t leave a lasting impression but I was intrigued by your unnatural flames. I saw your sidekick’s as well.”

“Basil is my trusted partner,” Tsuna said, feeling the orange heat flaring in his eyes. He knew that wasn't considered an insult in this world, but it still irked him hearing that.

Endeavor was professional enough not to scoff. “Your partner’s as well.” He must’ve not been used to someone interrupting him. “Though it doesn’t matter. I want you to use both your Quirks—”

“Please have this in writing,” Tsuna interrupted holding a hand up.

Endeavor clicked his tongue, the grip on his armrest tightening. “I wasn’t finished.”

Oh, he knew. “I’ve had experiences where verbal agreements have led me to unfortunate outcomes. I’d like to have a written contract for our fight. After all, I can’t have the number two hero suing my agency if I were to accidentally injure him or the property.”

"If you’re trying to burn holes into my head, please consult Kyoya or Xanxus first before you even try," he thought, smiling even brighter, feigning concern. "Man-children. The most prevalent type of men with authority in any universe. So easy to piss them off with their ego."

Enji took a deep breath and slowly let it out as if trying to reign in his bubbling annoyance, eyes never once leaving him. “You are quite… something, Cielo.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.”

“...”

“Anyways, if we’re done here please send over the documents to my office.” Tsuna got up swiping the proposition file off the table. “I hope you have a good day, Endeavor. It was an honour meeting the man second to All Might.”

Chapter Text

“Yep, everything’s in order,” Borage said, eyes scanning over the document. “The finalized contract includes health and liability insurance—quite generous, actually." He flipped a page. "A top ten’s budget's really something, huh.” He placed the papers down on the desk sitting in between them. “Nothing looks suspicious or out of place.”

Tsuna nodded in thanks, pulling out a pen and scanning over the document one last time.

Although Borage was the youngest in the agency (relative to both age and employment) Rosemary vouched for his skills in deciphering any hidden clauses or loopholes in contracts. Tsuna didn’t suspect Endeavor’s agency to screw him over—a group was still separate from its leader—and besides Endeavor didn’t strike him as a dishonest man. But it was always good to have a second and third eye to look things over; especially if those eyes were much more familiar with this world than his.

He was relieved when they finally got the major terms out of the way. Making contracts were a pain and it didn't help that he lacked the context for this world's linguistic connotations. For example, heroes had specific types of equipment called "support gear". At first, Tsuna thought these were, you know, supports as in braces, gloves, or something like PPE. It wasn't until Borage mentioned that hero support gear could range from a simple eyepiece to literal fucking caltrops, chainsaws, and guns that Tsuna just accepted complete and utter confusion as his default state.

Honestly, at that point, what was the difference between support gear and regular combat equipment? Was it because a "hero" was wielding them? If so, that arose even more questions. Why did police officers have guns and tasers while heroes didn't unless it was a part of their Quirk or aesthetic? —which was a whole other topic that made him want to cry. If the answer was "qualifications" or "training" Tsuna swore he was going to chuck his desk out the damn window.

...I think I've been cooped up here for too long.

As for the match itself, considering that Endeavor found him through his Quirk, the use of it was obvious. However, both agencies went through multiple drafts trying to determine which support equipment pieces should be allowed. On one hand, support equipment brought out the best in a hero. On the other hand, it seemed a little excessive for what was essentially an assessment for a tutoring gig. Both parties decided that dependant support equipment that aided their Quirks without being a weapon itself, were allowed. For example, they could use a device that concentrated their Quirks to get better accuracy and power, however, independent pieces like brass knuckles or knives were banned. There were a lot of logistical loopholes so they eventually settled on writing down any support equipment they were going to use and have it approved by all parties.

While discussing the details, Borage had asked him if his rings held any significance or if it was merely for show. Tsuna was quite surprised at the man's perceptiveness. Not many would look at jewelry and go "is that weapon?" but Borage said he didn't feel as if Tsuna was the type to buy or wear frivolous things so he determined that it must be significant in some way. Besides, apparently some heroes had weirder choices of support gear—if that was even possible.

But remembering the maelstrom of chaos that was Endeavor's costume, he quickly changed his mind.

Tsuna confirmed his suspicions but didn’t elaborate on why or how, only that it was not an independent piece of equipment. After demonstrating that the rings' only (visible) function was creating a small ball of fire, Borage respectfully didn’t pry any further.

But, unfortunately, that meant he had to leave his emergency gun and blades safely hidden in his box. Not that he used them much but Hayato insisted, naming the set of weapons "the idiot remover". It even had its title engraved on the side in  G-Letters. Takeshi was there when he presented it. Takeshi was laughing at the time and dedication it must've taken to do that. Takeshi was not laughing when he found himself at the end of a very sharp idiot remover.

Good times. Takeshi hounded Hayato for weeks trying to get him into sword fighting because of that.

Should he be worried? Yes. But he had long since accepted that his friends' playful banter and their murderous tendencies went hand in hand.

Anyways, he should probably get new shoes too since his current ones had a hidden bamboo blade in between the soles. And his cape too. Lord knows how many things he stored in those pockets like a chipmunk readying for winter.

Actually... maybe not. More layers equalled more protection and he couldn't always rely on his Oath Flames to keep his bones together (he swore he must've been the only person to break their bones so often from fighting). Not to mention his cape, the physical one he wore and not the one made from his Flames, was one of his favourite Leon-made pieces he owned.

It was supposed to be a joke, really, after the whole "Neo Vongola Primo" fiasco. It started with Hayato, with the help of Haru, making him an extremely accurate copy of Primo's cloak for the Vongola's Annual Christmas Gala. Unfortunately, the cape was torn, burned, and riddled with bullets the day after. So suffice it to say the two weren't very happy. If it weren't for Chrome, Haru might have gotten her hands on the imprisoned don before the interrogator did (Kyoko encouraged it actually).

Afterwards, for some impossible Herculean leap in logic, Reborn had, or rather, suggested to his partner in crime, Leon, to make a mock cape for him. It was probably revenge for calling the title "Neo Vongola Primo" stupid but even as a joke, Reborn wasn't one to half-ass things. Anything made from the magical lizard—seriously how did he do all those things???—was a guaranteed kevlar against any external forces. Leon had purposefully made the cape different from its original design with a small split at the back and the inclusion of one of the best features any clothing could have: Pockets!

So jokes on them! He liked the cape! It was warm, comfortable, and honestly, if he could tap into his teenage self again for a moment? It was—felt awesome. In fact, he may or may not have been caught making whoosh noises in his room—

N ope, nope, nope, let's just bury that memory deep into the cranial abyss!

—So keep the cape.

What else...? Oh! He should get his cuff buttons switched out too since it concealed needles laced in fast-acting neurotoxin. His tie clip was also similar in that aspect but it could be easily removed so that wasn't an issue. Actually, he should get a new tie as well since—

...

...

...

...maybe he should just consider a whole wardrobe change.

Besides that, there was also the matter of which abilities he would showcase. Several things were obvious: No Natsu or Oath Flames meant no Burners, Canons, or Streams. The former decision was met with a swift tailwhip to his side but he wasn't about to risk using all his trump cards at once or to try and explain how Natsu was both independent from and a part of him (not to mention the Sky Flame's harmony factor!).

The latter issue was more of a moral thing. Although he no longer needed his headsets, contact lens, and gloves to activate or gauge his Flames, minimizing the output to a safe, indoor-level freely while fighting was still difficult. There was a reason why the tenth generation Vongola was unanimously agreed upon to be powerful enough to destroy the world if desired by the majority of the underground; each member being akin to a "nuclear bomb passing through". Trying to control his blasts was like placing a funnel under a high-pressure valve. Technically it could be done but the amount of concentration he needed (not to mention the potential risks) wasn't worth it. Flames were different to regular fire after all and he doubted Endeavor had Flame-proof barriers to protect the spectators (pressure-safe maybe, but those weren't immune to a Flame's natural attribute).

Usually, that filter would be his Oath Ring; a ring specially made for him by Talbot using a mix of his and Enma's Flames. It was a gift from the Simons for his actual inheritance ceremony to signify the "unity between the Sky and the Earth"—by Talbot's words. The ring allowed him to gain greater control over his Flames by condensing or diffusing the output. Unfortunately, he couldn't quite master the Earth Flame's full gravitational capabilities like when he and Enma fought Daemon Spade.

Other than that, he had his Sun Flames but his secondary attribute wasn't strong enough for combat.

Tsuna mentally scratched his head. He didn't think he had these many abilities until he had to actually write them out—considering that Flames just came with certain abilities and knowledge that were imbedded as common sense in his universe. 

I can probably still use my softer Flames for agility... so basically I'm going in with Flame-enhanced punches and my hyper intuition. Maybe ice too? It is funny to see the panic when they realize they can't just melt it with heat.

God, he really needed someone other than the Acrobalenos and Kyoya to be his combat instructors and sparring partners.

Although Tsuna was fairly impartial to the limitations, Endeavor seemed to be a little disappointed with them. Endeavor may not have been desperate for a tutor but given the chance, ambitious people weren’t ones to throw away potential. It didn’t matter how well he did, just that he did something.

While he explained that his "Quirk" was difficult to minimize damage and thus would abstain from using it, Endeavor's secretary kindly reminded him that he shouldn't go all out regardless. He also mentioned something about "hellfire"? Tsuna wasn't sure if it meant Endeavor could fan out his flames in a large radius or if it meant that his fire could get even hotter—perhaps both—but Tsuna wasn't eager to find out. Hopefully, he wasn't dealing with another "I want to fight him at his maximum power" type of guy; he really didn't like fighting extremists.

Too bad fate hated his entire existence and made the mafia full of them.

Otherwise, the legal process was as tiresome and mundane as any other contract. Though there were two parts to it that even he was tentative to despite agreeing to the terms.

The first clause was time. Three rounds with three minutes each. Of course, normal fights would realistically only last a few seconds at most. But considering the theatrics of heroism, both agencies extended the matches to three minutes. To be fair, he said a minute at most in the first draft before Rosemary vetoed it saying how she’d rather not see a bloodbath on a weekend. Smart. The less time he had, the more vicious his fighting style got.

The second clause was the inclusion of spectators. Both Tsuna and Endeavor disagreed with this but both agencies kindly reminded them that they would need a third-party member, as well as one representative from each agency, spectating for impartial judgement and safety.

Apparently, there were a few instances in the past where limelight heroes would use their public image to encourage fans to shame or deface underground heroes after a dispute of some sort. The reasons varied as to why but since when did bandwagoning ever need actual, substantial evidence?

From what Rosemary had told him, there was a large scandal about a decade ago which became the catalyst to the Hero Exoneree Prevention Act, a law which protected underground heroes from limelight heroes who, if for some reason, wanted to destroy the former's credibility. The scandal was about a moderately famous hero falsely accusing their ex-partner of first-degree murder and spoliation of evidence. The "evidence" that arose wasn't all that compelling in his eyes but he understood that time affected how stories were told. Since the accuser was someone with some degree of credibility, he could see how an emotionally compromised civilian would believe such lies—especially considering that the victim was a beloved hero in her own right.

Unfortunately, that led a misinformed, gullible legion of fans to stalk and attack the now late underground hero. It wasn't until a group of independent journalists exposed the truth nearly half a year after the hero's death that the Hero Association, as a whole, finally changed as to how underground heroes were partnering up with the limelight ones.

Of course, if that was it, then at least the story would end with a thinly veiled happy ending. A story of corruption and sacrifice which led to a stronger community and amended the legal system.

But those were endings only comic books and fairy tales got. The reality Tsuna heard from Rosemary was so much crueller.

As she finished the story, Rosemary sighed. "Of course, the Medusa Act is quite possibly the only positive thing to come out of this but even so, the prize is nothing more than rust painted gold."

"What do you mean?" Tsuna asked, gripping the UHPPS's partnership contact form.

"The truth those young reporters found weren't just about the allegations. They also publically revealed the bribery problem circulating in the legal system. The discovery was too big to bury again."

"I see. Since Medusa was falsely accused, not just defaced on media, but also in court, it stands to reason that the judge was also in cohorts with the malefactor..."

Tsuna trailed off, noting how the usually calm and poise Rosemary bounced her knee like a jackhammer as if her entire body was trying to distract itself from her growing fury. Still, she kept up her professionalism. Besides the slight crease on her forehead, her stoic face masked her emotions well.

I wonder if she somehow has a personal connection with this case...

"The Hero Association used that fact as a distraction to ensure the public focused on governmental corruption and steered far away from damaging the public perception of heroes. Instead of seeing that 'this hero is corrupt' they made it so that the phrase associated with this case became 'this person who happened to be a hero is corrupt'."

"The former is a direct link to heroism as a whole and the latter is circumstantial. But if they didn't..."

"Heroes would lose face," she finished for him. "It would tell the public that heroism could be corrupted no matter how many 'All Mights' there were to save them—that the link between villainy and heroism isn't all that binary. It would've finally settled in the public consciousness that a loud and brash villain wasn't the worst out there, heroes were."

He placed his hand over Natsu's box, the vibrations of his low grumble beneath his palms mirroring his own.

"That's not all they did, is it?"

She nodded. "They suppressed media coverage as much as they could. Make the public forget. Make this 'just another case'. The sad truth is that it worked. I highly doubt anyone outside of the history and law departments remember this story now. But even then..."

Tsuna's heart bled fire with each beat, the heat making it unbearable to sit still. He was reminded of Enma, Simon, and their families. Having felt their emotions and seen their memories—the hurt, the betrayal, the fear—he could feel anger bubbling and growling inside his throat at the injustice. He swore he could feel the sear of the orange burning in his eyes. Natsu was largely the same.

He took a deep breath. Losing his temper wouldn't accomplish anything—he'd probably frighten Rosemary instead. Not to mention his emotional influence over Natsu.

The people to blame were either dead or imprisoned. He didn't like how the Hero Association tried to push the blame to maintain their image but in this world, where blind loyalty was akin to Simson's hair yet also its Achilles' heel, he understood why they did it. Such a large rift would invite more chaos and corruption, the collapse of society.

Would he have handled this situation differently? Most definitely. But this wasn't about him. He shouldn't make it about him. 

It took a full minute for him to calm down, hearing Natsu's mewls.

"But we do," Tsuna whispered. "At least... we do."

Tsuna quickly shook the memory away. He had a tendency to overthink and care too much—as Mukuro would say. Thinking about it would make him needlessly angry again and an overly emotional boss was a vulnerable one.

As Cielo worked under the UHPPS, the government required any partnership or extended contact to be approved by the system with a member of their legal team representing them. It fell under the False Accusation Act section two subsection nine: Wrongful Accusations and Deliberate Manipulation of an Underground Hero Using Media And/Or Public Cancellation. Which eventually became the Hero Exoneree Prevention Act, or Medusa Act, named after the late hero.

It was a pain but working inside a system meant following its rules so Tsuna had no objections. Endeavor also agreed to these terms but wanted to include one more thing: a guest. He reasoned that if this was going to be a spectated fight, they might as well. Tsuna had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn't completely Endeavor's idea but agreed to it nevertheless. Truth be told, Tsuna had no idea who to invite. Rosemary as the de jure leader was the Vongola Network's representative. But a guest? He briefly humoured his thoughts on bringing Natsuo—the boy would no doubt be thrilled to see some heroes in action—but thought better of it. He wasn't about to put a traumatized child in front of the source of their fears. Perhaps Borage?

Otherwise, both agencies and the UHPPS agreed on the terms and conditions.

As he signed his name on the finalized contract, an epiphany hit him.

If he wants to see my power, why the hell is he making me fight him instead of giving him a showcase of some sort? It's not like I'm going to be fighting his kid or anything. I'm basically a glorified counsellor.

And if for some reason, and he highly doubted it, Endeavor thought he was going to fight seriously against an innocent child, Tsuna might actually grab him, chuck him through the portal connecting their dimensions, and let his Mists handle him. They probably wouldn't need much convincing either. He certainly knew Chrome wouldn't.

“I’ll make sure you get a bonus this year,” Tsuna promised as he slid the signed documents in a file. "By the way, do you want to be my plus one for the fight?"

He certainly wasn’t this generous usually but considering that Borage knew the linguistic nuances of this universe far better than he did and sat through hours explaining every detail to him, well, the Vongola always paid back their debts in full.

Borage blinked owlishly before a grin crept up his face as he bounced from leg to leg, making him seem more childlike than he already was.

“Boss, have I told you how much I love my job?”

"So I assume that's a yes?" Tsuna gave him an amused glance. “See it as my thanks for taking the time to help out.”

He waved his hands nonchalantly. “It's cool. Rosemary can’t reprimand me for helping you.” 

Although Tsuna found his casual mannerisms welcoming, if he worked for any other boss, his familiarity would’ve had him chastised. Good thing he worked for an interdimensional mafia don!

“By the way, if it’s not intrusive, why are you doing this?” he asked as Tsuna handed the documents over. “I know you don't care about the billboard but… Endeavor’s no joke. He’s not second to All Might for his personality, you know.”

It really did say something about the man when people outside his immediate circle said the same thing that his own family had said. But on the other hand, that also spoke volumes about his power. Considering that limelight heroism was largely considered a celebrity sport—seriously how did national and international security work in this universe?—reputation was a big factor in success. If he became and maintained the number two spot without the contingency of positive press, his work ethic and strength must’ve been outstanding. But then again all publicity was “good” publicity and this world’s etymology of “heroism” was quite different than his.

“I asked myself the same thing at first.” Tsuna weaved his fingers together, a flicker of orange glinting in his eyes, the weight of the letter not lost on him. “Hmm… But to put it simply, I admire resolve.”

Borage tilted his head in confusion. “Resolve?”

He hummed in affirmation. “My reasons are, I must admit, fairly unprofessional... Well, regardless, I’m an adept fighter. You don’t need to worry.”

“Yeah… Not that I doubt your strength but I’ll gather some clips of Endeavor’s fights for you.”

“No need, I’ve already analyzed his fighting style”—Borage sputtered—“are you alright?”

“Ya— yep, I’m fine,” Borage replied, nearly choking on his own spit. “It’s only been, what a day? Jeez, underground heroes are next level.”

Tsuna chuckled, leaning back and crossing his legs. “I’ve only gathered the basics from what I could filter through the most recent public archives. I don’t have the full scope of his abilities as of yet, I’m not that impressive.” —or Reborn.

If there were a few things he could say about Endeavor that placed him above the bulky “I’m big so you better respect me even though I treat people like garbage” type of men he had unfortunately met are his skills, power, and general apathy towards mass media.

First and foremost, that mistake of an aesthetic of his wasn’t just for show—thank God. Some villains seemed to be paralyzed in fear in some of the reports he’s watched while others headed straight towards him like a moth to a flame. Regardless of if they saw the man as frightening or ridiculous, more importantly, he drew attention away from innocent civilians.

Perhaps it was just due to his inner fashionista that made him gloss over it the first time but damn this man was built. His muscles, his height, his body didn't look real—almost as if those over-exaggerated comic book poses came to life. He had hoped Endeavor was just using his body merely an intimidation tactic as he'd seen with some of the other brawnier men he's dealt with but he knew that he had a better chance at replacing Xanxus's guns with pink plastic than that.

His Quirk was impressive too considering that control of one’s own Quirk(s) wasn’t an inherent thing as evidenced by Fuyumi's overuse of hers and the bits and pieces of what he's heard about Toya from the pair of siblings. Tsuna didn’t know if Endeavor had trouble controlling his powers but he was impressed nonetheless with his versatility. Apparently his Quirk was more than just spouting fire from his body; he could manipulate it: the shape, pressure, and temperature.

In one video, he saw him create a ball of flames in his hands before it stretched and condensed into a lance, piercing the air as he shot it forward, hitting dead-centre into an aerial target already over thirty metres away from him. All within about three seconds. Considering how fast fights could get, three seconds wasn’t as impressive but the amount of work that goes into those three seconds did. It not only did it reveal his skills and the potential of his Quirk but also that he could quickly process information in a fight while keeping civilians safe.

And that one move where he superheats the metal he’s walking on to climb vertically on buildings? That was genius. He knew how to precisely control the pressure and heat of his flames to manipulate his surroundings. Tsuna had to admit if he was given that Quirk, he probably wouldn’t have thought of using it like that. Endeavor excelled at long-range and close-combat scenarios with or without his Quirk—that bulk wasn’t only for show. His movements held weight but weren't held back by it. For example, he could rush up to an opponent and literally punch him a block away. That wasn’t his Quirk. That was just his pure might. Considering that he could use his fire from a distance, Tsuna didn’t know if the man was brave and confident or stupid and narcissistic enough to prefer close combat.

Although, comparatively, he was still a far cry from the strongest person he’s seen or fought. Of course, it was a bit unfair considering that the power systems of their respective universes vastly differed. Still, at least this wasn’t a case of media sensationalism or the Association’s favouritism. One thing he disliked more than an arrogant man was a deceitful one. Despite being a neglectful and toxic father, he did his job as a “hero” well.

Well, that was also up for debate. Did he arrest many villains? Yes. Were his arrest numbers so high that it rivalled Japan’s conviction rate? Also yes. Did he save many people? Subsequently yes. Did they like him? No. Did he like them? Probably not from his permanent scowl. Did the press like him? Oh, they liked tearing him apart like a bleeding fish to a piranha. Did he do anything to remedy his public perception? Even a shitty beauty influencer making a fake apology video tried better than him.

Tsuna could definitely relate to the feeling of annoyance and disregard towards the press and outsiders being the centre of spotlight himself in the underworld. But damn. Shouldn’t the number two hero in all of Japan be a little bit more charismatic?

But still, he’s not the number two for nothing. He commands the field effortlessly with or without others around. I can’t underestimate him.

“Man, I wish your fight could’ve been labelled as a company outing. We'd all love to see that fight,” Borage groaned.

“I doubt it’ll be all that interesting. He’s requested me to show off my fighting prowess. It won’t be as showy as you might think.”

Especially since the young don preferred swift, discreet knockouts. XX-Burners were great and all but if he could immobilize an enemy by punching him with a fist full of Sky Flames, he’d rather do that. Being a Vongola and having Sky Flames drew eyes to him naturally, he really didn't need any more attention.

“Correction: he also wanted to see your Quirk. Oh, by the way, what is your Quirk exactly? I—If you don’t mind me asking?” he quickly added.

Tsuna stared at him for a split second, his consciousness returning back to the current conversation. “I assumed you knew.”

“I saw your smoke trails. And fire and ice don't exactly account for speed. For all I know you can have, I don’t know, a smoke-like teleportation Quirk too! Basil had some weird set of Quirks so I honestly can’t rule anything out at this point.”

Tsuna perked up. This was an opportunity to hear more about Basil’s alias for him!

“Didn’t Basil give you or the agency an explanation?”

He scratched his head. “Ah… well… maybe? I joined pretty late— around the time Basil started taking on long-term missions actually. It seemed rude to ask since he’s really serious when it came to privacy. And since I work in the contract law division, I don’t have the authority to look at an underground hero’s files until relevant. I doubt it would’ve mattered anyway since our database wasn’t completely accurate.”

“Database?” Well, that would've been good to know for his research.

He looked at him slightly confused but remembered how little the man knew about the Japanese Hero System due to his last "mission".

“The Hero Association keeps a national database on all registered heroes which can be accessed by the public. It’s much more limited than the one used for licensed agencies, obviously. The UHPPS goes a step further for heroes like yourself.  We usually use it to find good team-ups in case of a large scale villain attack or to track down rogue heroes, you know, the usual. Yours, however, only outlined a fire Quirk, not the ice—”

I should apologize to Basil for screwing up a good alias.

“—We usually get that for younger sidekicks since they haven’t seen the limits to their Quirks for long but underground heroes are usually outliers anyway. Frankly, I’m more surprised that Basil kept it under wraps for this long.”

“He’s very dependable,” Tsuna commented fondly. “My Quirk is controlling fire and ice, an emitter type. Nothing more.” —that I'll divulge.

"What’s it called?" Called?

His face scrunched up in confusion and shrugged. “I don’t know? Flames and Ice?”

“What!?” Borage paused after his outburst, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “No, no, no. Wait. Was your ice Quirk a recent development? Like, before you registered as a hero,” he asked, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Tsuna shook his head.

Borage looked aghast as if he was a noblewoman who’d just heard about a promiscuous court scandal in the early eighteenth century.

Were names of Quirks that big of a deal to even underground heroes? He understood the legitimate purposes for it but Quirk names were a thing mostly for limelight heroism, right? Also, what was wrong with just "Flames and Ice"?

“C’mon. Even Basil had a cool Quirk name: Pyromarine!”

Tsuna immediately wondered if Rosemary named it since Basil would’ve probably gone with something like Tranquillità di piovere Fiamme, Ame no honō no shizukesa, or the Tranquility of the raining Flames. Yes, he knew the Vongola men had horrible naming schemes, forgive them.

Tsuna propped up his arm on his chair, leaning against it. “I never really gave it much thought.”

Borage looked like he was on the verge of a conspiracy, pursed lipped and hands clasped together.

“Okay!" He clapped. "Then let’s name it! How about... freezer burn? Burning point? Flux Celsius? That last one sounds cool but doesn’t fit your whole”—he gestured to Tsuna’s body—“dapper gentleman aesthetic you’ve got going on there. Maybe something with Mister? Nah, but that's got nothing to do with your Quirk. Dual Element? Maybe but that's too vague... What about? Nah, that's stupid. Maybe... Hmm...”

Tsuna chuckled. Borage had his arms crossed over his slightly hunched body, concentration drawing a pout from him. He swore he could see the steam coming out his ears. Seeing him like this, it finally clicked as to why he found the man so amusing; it was like talking with an older Natsuo. 

“Enough about me, we can postpone that till later,” Tsuna joked.

He grinned mischievously. “For you? Gladly.”

He nearly stuttered. “What’s your Quirk?”

His teasing grin crumpled into an awkward, almost embarrassed smile. He hunched his shoulders, looking away before taking a shy glance.

“Well, it’s nothing all that amazing to be honest. But... watch this.”

Tsuna blinked twice as the man’s once swept-back amber hair shifted to a blue, then blonde, then to purple as the locks stretched to his lower back. Borage laughed nervously, scratching his chin as he flipped a few stray curls.

“I can grow and change my hair colour at will depending on my condition. I can’t go past my legs though or keep doing it for too long; it increases my blood flow too much and then y’know— kek! ” He slid his finger across his neck.

He took out the hair tie on his wrist and lazily tied up his hair as it went back to its natural amber. Was it just him or was it a shade darker?

“So yeah, nothing special but hey, at least I don’t gotta worry about hair troubles, am I right?” He stiffly laughed, a slight red tint dusting his ears.

Tsuna, on the other hand, shook his head and spoke with utmost sincerity. “Really? I think that’s amazing.”

Considering that he wasn’t using Mist Flames or any tools derived from it, such powers were extremely useful in his eyes.

“Eyy… C’mon no need to be humble. This is nothing compared to your Quirk.” He pinched a stray strand between his fingers. 

“I’m only being truthful— especially considering this is an agency for underground work. Your Quirk would be very useful in espionage.”

He froze, opening his mouth and closing it as if his words were taken from his tongue. “You... can’t be serious.”

“Maybe not in more volatile missions but honestly espionage wasn’t created with combat as the priority. Besides, even if we were going on the basis of combat ability, the right weapon is as good as any Quirk. Last time I checked a bullet through a man's head would still kill him. Right tools for the right job.

"With your Quirk, your pursuers would easily lose you in a crowd. Unless your entire identity and personas had been compromised, pursuers don’t look for details; they look for the obvious: hair length and colour, clothes, skin colour, the basic profile—if even that. If you can master quick change, I don’t see why you couldn’t be out on the field. Government agents had been doing that for years...in the past before Quirks came about.”

Got to remember that this is a whole other world.

“...”

“...”

“I— um...”

Tsuna watched as Borage’s auburn hair gained a red glint to its edges before magenta bloomed from its roots, washing his entire head in a bright glow. Wait, no. He was actually blushing.

“W—Well! I should um— do my work now!” He shot up from his seat, jerking slightly when his foot caught the leg of the chair. “C—Can’t have Rosemary think I’m any more of a slacker! Not that I don’t do my work! Ha. Ha. Ha...”

He stumbled his way to the door, eyes darting from his boss to his escape.

“Have a good day, boss!” He swung open the door, nearly running into Rosemary on his way out.

“S—Sorry!”

...and he left.

Rosemary stared curiously at the blur that rushed past her, her hand still frozen from when she was about to knock. She slowly lowered her arm, turning her head to look at the man sitting very confused behind his desk.

“What did you say to him?” Rosemary gave Tsuna a harmless yet slightly accusatory look, noting his confusion. “Do you know of his Quirk?”

“Yes? We were just talking about it actually,” he slowly replied as if he was treading on a minefield. “He can grow his hair and change the colour at will.”

She sighed as she shook her head, closing the door behind her and placing more dreaded files on his desk. “His hair colour is also influenced by another factor: his emotions.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Let’s just say, his natural hair colour isn’t amber.” She spoke in an exasperated yet affectionate tone.

“Anyways, we have a request from the Hero Association on a minor arson case.”

“Yes.” Tsuna scrolled through his email, picking out the low-priority one. “I read it this morning. Wouldn’t such cases usually be handled by other agencies?” Or, heaven forbid, the police?

There had been multiple reported cases of minor vandalism on the back of buildings. The serial arsonist wasn’t registered as a major threat as, at most, the walls in the back of establishments were burnt. Of course, it was dangerous as the fire could spread but for some reason, the fire was always put out before any of the employees noticed. No one had yet to claim any bodily injuries. The increase in threat came from the fact that the arsonist was moving closer and closer to more populated areas with increasing severity of property damage.

There was some CCTV footage capturing who the police assumed was an adolescent male in baggy clothing that covered their face and body well. They seemed to operate near and around Hosu and Musutafu City. Post investigation of the crime scenes and gaining eye witness testimonies, they concluded that the villain was probably some young pyromaniac setting things on fire for fun. A possible case of Quirk suppression.

There isn’t much of a link between each of the locations or their residents. I can rule out passion and thrill since the locations aren’t hotspots and the arsonist went out of their way to snuff out the flames themselves. They may not be a threat now but, if my theory holds true, unhealthy coping methods will lead them to worse things...

Rosemary let out an annoyed huff through her nose. “Usually yes. But we sometimes have cases like these where the Association asks us to locate and, if possible, either trap or lead the villain to a hero of their choosing. It’s a win-win situation for both parties. The Association gets a villain off the streets and the hero gets publicity.”

“Billboard manipulation and playing favourites, why am I not surprised.” Tsuna resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

This seemed too much like a back alley job except, of course, it was completely legal in this weird celebrity-obsessed universe.

"Isn't that disadvantageous for us though?"

Rosemary shook her head. “In the UHPPS’s archives, if the villain was caught by us, our agency will be noted in the arrest files, however, to the public the credit will be given to whatever hero they want to boost their rankings for. Or at times, the Association is bribed so that the hero can maintain their quota.” So straightforward.

“I wasn’t aware of such a quota system.”

She opened her mouth and closed it, shaking her head. “It’s a de facto system to prevent people from mishandling their hero license. During license renewals, your arrest numbers are listed and coupled with your public perception and billboard ranking; with low enough numbers, there’s a chance for penalties, suspension, or revocation. This usually doesn’t apply to underground heroes but there are always rare exceptions.”

“Hmm…” He scrolled through the arsonist file, the footage of the disguised villain swerving their head left and right and quietly darting off clutching their arms—in pain?—playing automatically. “This is different than what I’m used to. Did Basil do these types of ‘requests’ as well?”

“The Hero Association is fond of underground heroes for a reason. They don’t need to face public backlash and the media, after all, if something goes wrong. They had Basil work overtime due to his Quirk,” she added with distaste.

The tranquillity effect would certainly be advantageous in this world where public capture is a priority.

“I suspect they’ll do the same with me.”

She didn’t give any indication of affirmation but the answer was obvious.

“They found out about your status too quickly for my liking. But you don’t need to go out of your way for this. It’s a case sent to every underground hero agency near the vicinity.”

Tsuna crossed his arms, tapping his finger. It didn’t sit right with him to just leave it up to others. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Rosemary narrowed her eyes, pushing up her glasses. “I’m serious. Be advised that chasing after such cases will blind what’s in front of you.”

“I’m aware.”

“...”

Oh no… She had those scolding eyes. It was like the ones his mother would give him when he accidentally hurt himself over something stupid she told him to be careful of. Or the ones Chrome, Kyoko, and Haru would give him when they discovered he got hurt during a raid. Or the ones Reborn would shoot him when he tried to escape his responsibilities.

“Cielo,” she called with a sharpness edging her tone. “I need you to swear to me that you won’t go chasing after such a minor case when you have something bigger like Endeavor in front of you.”

Was he that easy to read? “I won’t, I swear.”

Christ, no wonder she was in charge. The weight of her stares alone could probably bring a lesser don to his knees.

“....very well, I’ll hold you to that.”

She bowed and just before she left added, “Basil told me about your tendency to get involved—intentional or not. So for your own sake, unless there’s no one around, please allow other heroes to take care of it. Have a good day.”

The door closed.

“I’m not going to jump in at first sign of danger,” he mumbled to himself, reading the new files she’d left.

What’s this weird sense of déjà vu I’m feeling?

Chapter Text

“A tutor...?” she mumbled.

Enji nodded. “The boy needs to learn some independence. He can’t cling to his mother like some sloth for all his life.”

He walked towards the couch where she sat, raising his arm slightly—she instinctively flinched—before crossing it instead, turning slightly away from her.

“Rest assured our boy won’t be taught by some C-list hero. He has an annoying personality but shows potential.”

Rei could barely acknowledge the bubbling anger trying to manifest deep, deep inside the pits of her stomach; her rage buried under the sands of time. Maybe even back a year ago she would’ve cared—truly cared. Felt that sense of protectiveness coursing through her veins, disregarding her own security for theirs, like when she nursed Toya's wounds or defended Shoto all those years ago.

Wait, had it already been that long?

Her consciousness had been glazed behind a fog, its voice muted by the mist, stuffed like cotton down her throat. She hated, hated how he referred to his decisions about their children like she was somehow involved—as if she consented in being his co-conspirator.

You missed the feeling.

But at least it was something. Being angry, this anxiety and uncertainty gripping her heart in a searing vice—where the simple act of breathing felt like a sin? It was tiring. She didn’t want to feel vengeful but it was all she had.

A convenient excuse.

It was probably the only emotion she felt other than apathy. And at this point, she'd rather beg God to feel that clammy, sticky anger reeking of sweat and bile glued to her skin like tar rather than the latter.

The snake had already come and gone, only peeking its head occasionally to see her struggle. The venom in her veins already killed her spirit. Struggled how she might, she was nothing but a paralyzed deer awaiting death—a slow death—watching as her young struggled to survive on trembling legs. She couldn’t bring herself to yell anymore. No more why-s or how-s, no more blood clogging her throat from the voices that tried to climb and scratch the walls for escape. Just no more. She could barely make out the serpent from the black circling her vision.

She felt cold. Was it always this cold? Her frail body was a weakness onto itself but this was a different sort of cold. A type of cold that couldn't be remedied with a blanket, no—it was a type of cold that leeched her very being. It was the type of cold after the wash of white-hot dread flushing down her back. A type of cold that made her stare emptily into the ground below, only wondering if her blood still ran warm when her body painted the pavement.

Hollow. Empty.

She stared back. Not because she was worried—she was—but because something still inside her, something so minuscule she nearly convinced herself it was just an illusion, compelled her to as its dying wish. And she humoured it. She stared at the little ones still struggling against forces outside their reach. She stared at them in his merciless coils. She stared. And stared.

Even the feeling of injustice seemed like a distant memory, only its residual heat lingering in the far corners of her mind.

It wasn’t like she didn’t care about her family. She did. She really did. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t lie to herself and say she felt that same burning passion anymore—the colour of red not of love but of loss. She couldn’t lie to herself.

But she could.

And she did.

“Did... Did you tell him?” Her voice was carried by faint whispers like a breeze through the dry willow leaves. Less out of concern but more so phrased out of obligation.

Enji breathed out through his nose, leaning on the opposite side of the couch's backrest—pushing forward slightly under his weight. “Not yet. I’m bringing the boy with me tomorrow. It’ll be a good learning experience for him to see how heroes fight.”

It would. At least it would’ve been if he was willing. Not like it mattered. She wasn’t about to gift a horse in the mouth. This was a chance for her to finally be alone. To not have to look at that child for even a minute longer. To unsee the reflection of her actions staring back at her.

A horrible mother. Useless.

She couldn’t help it. She could no longer register the warmth of motherhood. And oh God, did she try. She tried to feel for anything, to grasp anything within the mist. She clawed her hands through the air, trying to grasp the wisps of smoke. Her words felt like bitter ash coating her tongue, each word she said to that child getting stuck in her teeth and bleeding her gums. Hugging him, kissing him goodnight, petting his hair no longer felt comforting. She might as well have been petting an old bail of hay. His once soft hair felt like running her hands through chalk—dry, clinging to the oils on her skin, in between her fingernails, and no matter how many times she washed her hands the sensation would never fade. The weight of her child felt like a cinderblock on her legs, his arms circling her neck like a python constricting her movements, his tears bouncing off her like rain to glass.

It scared her.

What was she losing? What did she already lose? What hasn’t she? What was even left? Her thoughts? Were those even safe enough to be considered hers, truly hers?

What... was hers?

It unnerved her.

Why did she feel so empty when she was with that child?

That child.

When did she start to refer to her own son, her own flesh and blood, as "that" child?

Why did his little whimpers and cries feel like he was leeching all the energy from her?

At this point, was that even her child anymore?

Or was he just a reflection of him?

No!

He wasn't him. Not yet.

No. He was... 

He was…

What was he?

How much of her was actually in him? Half? Maybe less?

Why did it seem like the red on his head devoured the white, strand by strand, with each passing day?

Oh, God. Oh, God! She didn’t want to feel this way! It wasn’t fair to him—to them. She knew that. She knew she was barely clinging onto the thread of sanity, the abyss below threatening to swallow her whole—each fibre of life slowly withering away. Life? Could this even be classified as living? But what could she do? Nothing.

She couldn’t do anything.

Not for herself, not for them.

Useless.

She was just so tired.

No. That wasn’t completely true. She wasn’t tired as if her limbs weighed her down; she was left empty like a cavern without an end. Groundless, suspended in the empty vacuum of space. No light at the end; if there was ever an end. Her body could still feel the slight give of the couch, hear old reruns of shows she didn't know the names of on television, smell the tea her sister got for her sitting on the coffee table, taste the dull mint flavour from the toothpaste, and see the walls of the living room around her. But she couldn't register any of it. Was she sinking into the couch or was it just from Enji leaning on it? What did those characters say again? The tea must've gotten cold by now. Her mouth was so dry. This large room felt suffocating and yet, at the same time, she couldn’t care less.

Was this classified as living? Was this still considered existing? Why did she feel like a stranger in her own body? Like she was reading a book about some sad, pathetic woman regretting her inaction but each time she skipped to the end, several more frustratingly indecipherable pages were added?

It scared her that she’d gotten intimate with this feeling of emptiness. Welcomed it even. It was better than the alternative. Better than crying to herself at night thinking about the things she could’ve done better—should’ve done better. Better than wanting and wishing like she was in some fairy tale awaiting her happily ever after. Better than seeing that child's bruises from training, better than seeing Natsuo begging to spend time with her, better than seeing Fuyumi lose her childhood.

Better than hoping for a dead child to come back to life.

None of them deserved this. They deserved so much better. A family who cared for them and a house that welcomed them. A mother who didn’t feel like a puppet on strings, a mother who could protect them in her embrace, a mother who could love them without seeing the visions of her own faults in them.

She was long past the point where she blamed Enji for everything. She was just as guilty.

You already lost one child, what’s one more? The thought lingered at the forefront of her brain like the red trails her nails would leave on her skin.

It’s inevitable. A moronic woman.

No. Stop. Stop that!

Maybe we should’ve joined him. He must be lonely there.

Please stop it.

She could remember the fluctuating gain and loss of her emotions. The anger and frustration. Hopelessness and fear. The emptiness. It was all a cycle. The only thing she looked vaguely forward to, whether she liked it or not, was what she would feel—or wouldn’t feel—next.

Even so, she wanted to live. Not out of some hope that things would get better—she wasn’t that brave. Because she feared death, she feared looking into the eyes of the child that she failed under the raven's wings. How could she face him? How would he look at her? Probably with scorn and contempt. She didn't blame him. She deserved it. 

You should have joined him earlier. Then maybe he could've forgiven us.

It's too late.

We're too late.

Nothing can be fixed.

Nothing can go back to the way it was. Nothing can go back to the times where we looked forward to the dawn of a brand new day.

Even so, she wanted to live.

A failure of a mother.

Shame.

Shame.

Shame.

Shame.

Shame.

Shame.

Shame.

Shame.

Shame.

Shame—

Stop.

Her mother and sister. They listened. She didn’t want to burden them but they listened. Her mother told her to endure it not knowing the full scope of what was happening to her daughter’s psyche. Or perhaps it was because the web she was caught in became too entangled and merged with her own flesh.

Her sister told her to leave. Countless times. But she couldn’t. She offered to house her, to care for her and her family. But she couldn't. Enji's pride, that child, his life's purpose hinged on her staying here. She couldn't just leave. There were chains around were limbs tying her down. Her misery was the only thing she had left to give and if being like this saved them, she would endure it.

Looks like you did have something left inside miserable little you.

But are you saying that to save them or us?

And yet Rei crawled and selfishly begged them to stay. To hear their voice. To utter words she couldn’t to anyone else; of her sins, her confessions. They were her only lifeline. She couldn’t share this with anyone else. Not her own husband and most definitely not her children. They didn’t deserve to have a woman like her as their mother. To listen to her anguish and look at her with pity and anger.

Perhaps that’s why she refused to see Natsuo. Refused to speak to Fuyumi in fear of seeing the ghost of her eldest. Said nothing back but a simple “I’m okay” or “I’m fine” when she visited.

Visited.

Since when did her own daughter become a guest to her?

She couldn’t bear to see that child as hers.

Didn’t offer prayers to Toya’s shrine. 

Perhaps some part of her wanted to distance herself because she knew that was the best way for her to protect everyone.

Stop lying to yourself. 

Her children would be fine on their own. They were so mature for their age. Fuyumi was responsible and intelligent—she could get through fine in the world. Natsuo... had Fuyumi. Shoto would learn how to be independent soon too. They were going to be fine. They were fine all on their own. 

You’re just selfish. Weak. A coward. And the truth of the matter is that I’d rather not think about the implications.

Just, please. Let her have this at least.

She knew she was pitiful. So please. Just this. Spare her. Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Please.

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

“Do you— hold on. Chervil, the east entrance. It’s the next turn,” Rosemary pointed out to their driver before turning back to the conversation at hand. “So do you understand? It’s imperative that you are on your best behaviour today.”

Borage groaned, leaning back on his headrest. “It was one time! And can you blame me? It was Best Jeanist! He was giving autographs out of his own branded denim, his own hero costume!”

She shot him an incredulous stare.

Tsuna chuckled, leaning against the door with a propped arm, distracting himself by familiarizing the cityscape through the tinted window. He knew of the Quirk to Quirkless ratio but it was still a little odd for him to see people with Quirks casually mingling around in broad daylight considering that his line of work preferred the anonymity of the preternatural. It was just odd seeing how such supernatural features and abilities were showcased instead of bound under the Omertà.

“Boss, you nervous?” Borage asked, snapping him out of his daze. 

Seeing his furrowed brows and concerned frown, Tsuna gave him a reassuring look.

“I’m not nervous, just alert.”

“I apologize we couldn’t get another mode of transport, Cielo,” Rosemary said, giving him a knowing look.

“It’s fine, thank you for your consideration. I’m tired more than anything.” I just want this whole thing to be over with.

“You’re a braver man than me, I’d be running to hell and back to avoid Endeavor.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing Cielo’s the hero and not you.” She didn’t even bother to look up from her tablet.

“Oh, 'mary, how you wound me so,” he replied, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Anyway, maybe we should’ve moved the match to tomorrow? I’m sure they would’ve understood if we mentioned the emergency call. Last night was brutal.”

“Today or tomorrow, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Tsuna sighed, leaning against his knuckles. With my luck, I’m going to get another on-call in a couple hours.

“Boss, sometimes you’re too nice for your own good."

"I'm sure Basil had to deal with much more than I."

"You're not wrong," Rosemary piped in.

"Okay, but a five-hour chase with a villain gang? How much rest did you actually get?" Too little. "Let’s just say it: The Association sucks. Maybe we should turn vigilante.”

Tsuna almost choked.

Rosemary gave him a warning glare. “Please don’t joke around like that, especially in front of heroes.”

“Underground work is tiptoeing on vigilantism anyway,” he pouted.

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” she whispered as if softening the blow, “but it’s distasteful considering that Cielo probably had to deal with them the most.”

“Ah...”

He cringed at Tsuna’s attempt at dissociation, mistaking it as hiding a traumatic memory instead of having an existential crisis over somehow turning every person he’d met into the mafia or its equivalent.

He bit the insides of his cheek, hair yellowing at the edges. “I’m really sorry about that, boss. I didn’t mean to trudge up bad memories.”

Tsuna cleared his throat. “It’s not that, don’t worry. It’s just an… interesting prospect.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’d be an amazing vigilante?”

Oh, you sweet summer child, you have no idea. “Thank you. I’ve heard that often.”

“We’re here, all,” Chervil announced as the large “E” came into view. He stopped the car, allowing them to get out safely, before backing up. “G’ luck, boss.”

Tsuna nodded in thanks, straightening his tie. “I trust you to handle the office until we get back.”

Chervil nodded, gaving a two-fingered wave and drove off.

When Tsuna, Rosemary, and a very giddy-but-I'm-trying-to-hide-it-because-we’re-in-a-professional setting Borage entered Endeavor Hero Agency, they were promptly greeted by the hero’s secretary who they’ve been working with for the past few days, Sam Ugwan.

Sam led the three through the agency, giving them a brief overview of the safety measures and schedules in place for the match. Before entering the elevator, they were checked by a UHPPS representative and the security staff to check for any hidden weapons or support gear outside the pre-established contract. Of course, Tsuna had followed the rules, the more...protective version of his clothes safely tucked away in a hidden compartment in his office. Not that it mattered. If Tsuna really wanted to break the rules their security checks weren’t going to find anything.

When they found everything was in order, the UHPPS representative got a call and excused herself, saying that she’ll be up shortly. Sam led them to the elevator and used his keycard to access the restricted floors. While this was nothing new to Tsuna and Rosemary, who had to travel between many government and corporate buildings, Borage jerked his head like a bird, darting his eyes from one new piece of technology and hero to another.

Rosemary scrolled through her tablet displaying a digital version of the contract as well as other information regarding the match.

“I suspect the arena will be the one you showed us yesterday?” she asked.

Sam nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! The training floor we’re going to is often used for media coverage so have no fears on your safety! All spectators will be protected behind a reinforced wall with coating technology.”

She hummed. “How much pressure and heat can it take?”

Rosemary, you angel, asking all the right questions.

“Enough to withstand Endeavor’s own Quirk and as well as strong enough to withhold even one of All Might’s punches!”

Well, that didn’t help him at all. How famous were these heroes that they were considered a unit of measurement?

He turned towards Tsuna. “Although to the spectators, the wall looks nothing more than anti-glare glass, to you it can be a blank wall or a mirror depending on what you’d prefer.”

“Do you shoot there often? I don’t believe I’ve seen much of Endeavor’s Agency on the news.”

“We sometimes rent it out for other heroes, or to showcase our own for training. Think of it as a multipurpose media room. However, large media outlets, by Endeavor’s own request, are barred from entering the building unless they have a legitimate reason.”

She raised a brow. “Surely any location of Endeavor’s, regardless of the heroes showcased would attract attention? Unless… do you not advertise or brand the rooms?”

He gave a tired nod. “Again, by Endeavor’s own request.”

“Huh, how odd...” she mumbled.

Sam turned towards Tsuna trying to give him what he assumed was an encouraging smile. “It certainly is different. But it’s good for underground heroes such as yourself, Cielo! Not to worry, you’ll do great! Endeavor is ranked second on the billboard, don’t be discouraged! Just the fact that he asked you to spar means a great deal! Not many even have the opportunity!”

He’s giving me a pep talk as if I’ve already lost.

Pity was certainly an unusual yet almost nostalgic emotion he received from others.

“Thank you,” Tsuna said simply as the elevator dinged and opened.

As the group headed towards the training room, Sam carefully observed Cielo’s reactions and thought back to the small conversation he had with Endeavor a while ago. Throughout the contract, he had constantly reminded Endeavor not to use his Quirk’s full capabilities. He didn’t doubt his boss’s control or skill but Endeavor was weirdly motivated this time. He wasn’t saying that Endeavor was anything less than a fervent man but that resolve was usually reserved for obtaining the number one spot. So when that passion focused on something or someone else?

Well, he was worried. That same burning spirit was going to land them another earful from the Hero Association.

Although Endeavor just opted to ignore his worries, it was when he said that Cielo was “still a young hero” that the man looked at him irritable eyes and simply replied:

Don’t underestimate him.

He certainly wasn’t doubting the young man! Underground heroes were usually a tough bunch but...

Sam subtly looked back at the young hero in sympathy, noting the slight shadow under his eyes.

He’s hiding his nervousness really well— he thought as they entered the room.

When the doors opened, the smell of smoked wood chips hit his nose, Endeavor at the centre of the arena in all his glory, the flames around him pulsing, circling around him as if it was a prowling lion sensing its prey.

“Hello, Endeavor,” Tsuna greeted as Rosemary and Borage bowed politely, following Sam to the spectator’s area.

“Cielo.”

He sauntered over, noting how clean everything was. Not that it wasn't previously when he visited but during the contract making process, the room was in maintenance from the previous set of heroes using it. Apparently it was such a regular occurrence that it raised no alarm nor the need for rescheduling. Funnily enough, that was actually the one thing Tsuna was used to.

The room was divided into two areas: the sparring arena and the spectators’ seat behind a glass wall. A digital screen split the elevated benches in front of the large panes facing the city. From what he remembered from last time, the panes were made of privacy glass, able to turn opaque if desired. The lights in the room were embedded into the walls and ceiling for safety and space.

The arena itself was about sixty to forty metres in length with a three-metre breathing room around it. A red border highlighted the edges of the ring, surrounding a yellow one just about a metre away from it. The floor felt sturdy yet he also felt a slight give under his shoes, a material that softened impact but didn’t disrupt footwork. The ceiling was high; probably going so far as to go through two floors. Considering that some people of this universe can easily topple a skyscraper with their height, as an aerial fighter, Tsuna appreciated the accommodation.

Looking around the room, he saw his companions and Sam sitting at the spectator’s seats, though he couldn’t make out what they were talking about.

“I see that your guest hasn’t arrived,” Tsuna observed as he stopped in front of Endeavor. “Will you tell me who your plus one is, or will you give me the same answer as last time?”

“You’ll see him in a few minutes.”

“So the latter.” Tsuna hummed in a coyish tone, closing eyes as if in thought. “I’m sure you wouldn’t bring just anyone without purpose and the number two hero would be too powerful to be blackmailed or bribed so...” He opened one eye, a challenge. “Might they be the reason for this match? May perhaps your son?”

He exhaled through his nose and scoffed. “If you’re so eager to find out, have a few more minutes of patience.”

Now, Endeavor really had no reason to withhold the identity of his guest. And he would’ve told the man about Shoto too if it weren’t for his overly... “friendly” behaviour. He didn’t notice at first—only because he didn’t bother to care—but he had a sneaking suspicion that the younger hero was provoking him on purpose.

And at this point, it was a game. If he told him, he’d lose.

“You don’t seem well, are you okay?”

Borage felt his back burning from the intensity of Rosemary’s don't-say-anything-to-embarrass-the-company-or-else-I-will-cut-your-end-of-the-year-bonus glare. He was already on thin ice for acting a child at their first toy store, he didn’t need her to scold him again. He swore for someone with a herbivorous Quirk, she was scarier than any carnivore.

He quickly shook his head, the edges of his hair gaining a paler tone. “N—Nope! I’m fine, just taking in all the tech, y’know?”

Sam laughed unaware of the silent exchange between the two. “We pride ourselves on having the best training environment so don’t worry. The divider was a special order from a researcher taught at I-Island.”

“I-Island? Like the institution where David Shield, the creator of All Might’s support gear, is working at— I-Island!?”

“Yes!” He beamed with pride. “If you’d like I’ll send a referral to your agency. She’s extremely talented despite being in the field for only a few years!”

“I’m not going to say no to such an amazing contact, thank you. We also have some lesser-known designers and support heroes if you’re ever in need of stealth and encryption. Here, let me get their contact info...”

As the two exchanged details, Rosemary looked over, humming quietly. Maybe I should put him in networking.

Tsuna yawned as he stretched, still a bit tired from the on-call. With a satisfying pop in his back, he took a deep breath, turning around to meet Endeavor’s gaze.

“Is there something wrong?” Tsuna asked, feeling the heat of his stare.

Endeavor stared at him in silence for a moment then asked, “your hero costume. Is that practical?”

Tsuna shot him an incredulous look, just absolutely befuddled that he of all people would ask that. Masking his emotions quickly, Tsuna merely shook his head as if he didn’t just speedrun the five stages of grief at once.

“My mentor always held the belief that one should always present themselves with a certain level of poise and countenance even in battle.”  He gave him a once-over. “It’s bad conduct to seem unsightly in front of people with functioning eyes.”

He hummed in thought, not noticing Tsuna's underhanded comment. “Your cape. Would it not get in the way?”

“Rest assured my cape is quite durable and flame-resistant.” Tsuna paused, lifting the sides of his cloak, shooting him a concerned look. “Although, wouldn’t that put you at a disadvantage?”

Endeavor narrowed his eyes. “If you believe my Quirk is what solely got me to where I am today, you’ll be sorely mistaken.”

Tsuna lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t doubt that. But considering that this is just a friendly spar, I’d thought it’d be polite to ask.”

“My flames are hotter than what you’d imagine.”

Considering that he’s still human and that his fire’s colour is deep orange, his flames shouldn't go to cremation levels without concentration. But considering that nothing caught on fire and people can't feel the normal amount of heat that high of a consistent flame produces, that temperature limit drops. That or his flames aren't as hot as I think it is. People of this universe are born with corresponding immunities but Fuyumi proved that they aren’t completely immune to their own powers.

Still, that’s insane. The absolute maximum temperature the human skin can take before burning should be only about sixty degrees for no more than five seconds. What the hell is this world made of?

Tsuna chuckled humorlessly to himself. “I’m not one to underestimate my opponents—”

I may get out with some nasty burns today. Hope their health care is really as good as they say.

“—though I hope you’re the same. After all, like you said: If you believe my Quirk is what solely got me to where I am today, you’ll be sorely mistaken.”

“Endeavor isn’t good with easy-going people like Cielo,” Sam commented as he watched the “friendly” interaction.

“Easy-going?”

Rosemary stared at Tsuna smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he didn’t stand in front of one of the strongest heroes in Japan. Relaxed, maybe a little tired, but bantering with a man known to have made villains cry.

"Easy-going"—he says.

She didn’t believe a second if it.

No, that wasn't completely true. She didn’t think Cielo was lying about how he presented himself—open and vulnerable. But that didn’t make up his entire character. He was sarcastic, and even teasing at times. He was confident and friendly. But what others saw as just another friendly neighborhood hero, she saw a beast lurking in a dense forest. She saw it in Basil as well. Behind the jokes and banter, those brief moments where a darker, more serious face peeked through the sliver of leaves. But unlike some of the other two-faced heroes she’s seen, the two weren't dishonest. The side they concealed weren’t behind bars or a screen; they were hidden not because they needed or wanted to but because they could. Because, to them, there was no need to use that side.

To be honest, that might’ve been scarier.

Despite all that, she never felt like she had to watch her steps. A side effect of her Quirk was having a herbivore's instinct, a double-edged sword in the world of business. When she was younger, her mind would constantly run in circles, anxious about potential dangers with red sirens blaring through her nerves. But on the upside, she knew when someone had ill intentions far before they had a chance to act. She could feel it in her gut and there was no one in this world who she trusted more than her instincts.

So although she wouldn’t exactly label Cielo as an “easy-going” person, she nevertheless trusted him enough to sleep with both eyes closed. After all, she of all people knew how important keeping up one’s appearance was.

“Hm... He isn’t completely without worry,” she replied neutrally.

Sam gave her a confused glance but dropped the topic after she didn’t elaborate any further. Instead, he steered the topic more towards business and how each agency ran. Just then, his phone rang as he excused himself from the conversation.

“Yes? Yes. Please put her through. Hello Ms. Todoroki! We’re just setting up. Oh, you’re here already? Okay, come to training room seven. I already gave clearance for you both.”

As he hung up the phone, he walked towards Endeavor who looked like he was on the verge of picking up Tsuna and pitching him across the city like a baseball.

“Sir, your children are here.”

Tsuna, for the first time he’s seen the man, saw Endeavor genuinely smile. A smile that held great, and he meant great, pride and excitement that stretched his lips from ear to ear. It wasn’t gentle, however. It was still infected by a tinge of obsession.

“Good.” He turned towards Tsuna. “Cielo, my son will be spectating. Make sure you show him what it means to be a hero.”

“Oh? And here I thought you made this test as a filter.”

“Experience is experience. If you happen to disappoint, he’ll know what not to do.”

“I’m sure he’s already seen that before.”

Before Endeavor could fully register those words, the doors slid open revealing Fuyumi and, assumedly, the youngest Todoroki.

He’s much younger than I thought.

The boy hid behind his sister, clutching her hand like a lifeline, his eyes darting from the room to its people like a pinball. His other hand squeezed the hems of his shirt, his steps small and quiet as if he wanted to be drowned out by his sister’s presence. Though that was impossible with his bi-coloured hair and the fact he was Endeavor’s prized son (which was the actual reason why other people stared).

Fuyumi, spotting Tsuna, looked at him worriedly before walking towards her father. After they exchanged short greetings (if any on Endeavor’s side), they began to whisper something that Tsuna couldn’t quite make out. 

She’s so formal talking to him...

Meanwhile, the boy, still trying to melt into his sister’s shadow, peeked over his shoulder, looking at him. Tsuna waved, showing him the gentlest, most disarming smile. Shoto stepped even closer to Fuyumi, clinging to her leg like a baby koala. His large bichromatic eyes seemed to assess him as if they were judging his sins. He frowned before turning his head away from him. 

Disappointment lowered Tsuna’s arm, the weight sinking his heart into the ground. He knew it wasn’t personal but being rejected by kids hit harder than any punches.

“Hello, Cielo,” Fuyumi waved, approaching him her little brother in tow. “Don’t be rude Shoto, say hello.”

He blinked, briefly staring up at him with wary eyes. “Hello...” he mumbled into his shirt.

She gave Tsuna an apologetic smile, holding onto Shoto’s hand. “He’s shy around strangers.”

“No worries. Are you going to watch the match?” I thought it was only a plus one?

“Yes! I mean, no. I had some plans with some friends and the agency was on the way. But what I meant was”—she leaned closer to him—"what are you thinking? You can get seriously injured! I know father has a reputation but he can’t force you to fight!”

Tsuna rose a brow. “I accepted willingly and rest assured, I don’t pick fights for the heck of it.”

“Father is really strong. He’s not the number two hero—”

“—for his personality, I know.” He chuckled. How many times would he hear that? “Do I seem that unreliable?”

“I didn’t mean—! I’m not insinuating that you’re weak or anything! But...” She gave a quick glance behind her, her father talking with the UHPPS representative who came in the room moments prior. “He’s strong. I mean, I’ve never seen you fight but...”

“Relax, I’m only teasing. Please don’t worry. I can assure you that you’re worrying about the wrong person.”

She sighed, looking at Shoto’s cheeks squished against her leg. “If I’d known you’d fight him instead of talking to him...”

Yes, he was aware that he didn’t exactly make the most rational decision.

“And I promised auntie I’d look after you too,” she mumbled.

D—Do I look that weak in their eyes? And how pathetic would I be if I cowered behind a civilian?

“You’re welcomed to stay and watch if you’d like. I’m sure just one more guest won’t change much— Ah. Wait, you had plans, right?”

She nodded. “I really want to stay but I have to go.”

Shoto gasped, shaking his head, eyes were blown wide, lips quivering in fear. When she pried her hand away, he immediately, with as much strength a child could muster, trapped her hand in a vice, tugging her closer to him.

“Shoto!” she whispered harshly.

Feeling the heat of everyone’s gaze drawn towards them, Fuyumi quickly muttered apologies before dropping off Shoto in the spectator’s section. Tsuna saw the boy protest by clinging onto her hand. He could see her sigh, talking to him for a while before he reluctantly let her go, pulling at the hem of his shirt with his knees stiffly drawn together.

“I’m sorry, he usually doesn’t throw tantrums like that,” Fuyumi said as she prepared to leave.

Tantrum? That was a tantrum?

Tsuna wasn’t even sure where to begin with that one. If that was considered a tantrum he wouldn’t even begin to know what to call Lambo’s outbursts when he was a child.

“He’s uneasy, it’s natural. Hopefully, he’ll get used to us.”

Fuyumi hummed nervously, a hand over her collar, eyes drifting back to Shoto with his head down and clutching his bag. “I hope so too.”

She bowed and wished him luck before leaving.

The UHPPS representative turned on her mic, her voice echoing through the built-in speakers on the other side of the barrier. She took out a tablet, looking at both men.

“For clarification, I’ll outline the sparring session as follows. One, the use of Quirks and support equipment is allowed.”

Endeavor stretched one last time, knowing that he couldn’t afford any mistakes. The man in front of him wasn’t some amateur, he could give him that.

Hmph. What a waste of a Quirk to work in the underground.

“Two, although bodily harm is inevitable, crippling, critical, or otherwise life-threatening blows will not be permitted. The entire match will end if these conditions are met by either party.”

Tsuna slowly breathed in and out, tapping into a familiar sensation, blocking out unneeded noise, going into a state of calm and focus.

“Three, there will be three rounds, each spanning three minutes. The round will end when either one of the party forfeits, is unconscious, steps out of the set parameters, or as previously mentioned, critically injured. The judge will be keeping time and score. Best two out of three wins.”

Endeavor aligned his feet with his shoulders, his knees facing forward, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Cielo seemed like the speedy type.

“Four, unless there is a verdict or a violation of these aforementioned safety rules, spectators cannot interrupt or otherwise aid in the fight. In doing so, they not only endanger themselves but also the heroes.”

Tsuna pushed his cape out of the way. He wanted to get this over with as fast as possible and in this first move, every millisecond counted.

“Are the two of you ready?”

The two men nodded, not taking their eyes off each other for a moment. 

The large LED board flashed, the countdown showing up in a bold red font. “3:00” blinked at a fixed interval on the screen, waiting until her signal.

“Very well. Begin!”

3:00

2:30

2:00

1:30

“Um… The time has started—”

“We know,” they both replied.

Tsuna observed Endeavor carefully, and he, him. Having mostly fought opponents who were impulsive or overconfident, Tsuna had expected the man to make the first move. But it wasn’t that surprising he supposed. Endeavor, despite his explosive Quirk, wasn’t an impulsive idiot.

For now.

There was a part of him that wished he could pick and prod at the man’s psyche to make him impulsive and rash. Break him mentally so he barely had to lift a finger. An age-old fighting technique. Largely favoured by his Mists and some of his other Skies. But he quickly shooed those thoughts away, along with other ideas of the same calibre. This wasn't the underground and he preferred not to go to jail... again.

Still, Endeavor was a limelight hero, an entertainer. Even if he hated the press. 

He’s bound to go first.

1:00

It was odd. As a limelight hero who could care less for the media, Enji had rarely seen heroes who... waited. The world of heroics was like battling camera shutters shooting off at every second, blinding and quick. It attracted attention, favoured who moved first and listened to the loudest. Many people would consider Endeavor a purely combat-focused hero seeking to rack up arrest numbers rather than followers. But even by his standards, Cielo was… quiet. Observing. Like an alley cat awaiting its prey with unsheathed claws.

He supposed it was to be expected of an underground hero. No time for theatrics.

And though he respected that, well, it wasn’t his style to just wait around.

And there was more than one way to flush out a wild animal besides waiting.

0:30

Tsuna narrowed his eyes as Endeavor let out a huff, changing his stance by sliding his left foot slightly backwards, his torso following along. He lifted his arm and pulled it backwards, so his chest puffed out. Tsuna had to narrow his eyes to see the flickering of fire licking his open palms, gathering in his hand.

Alarms blared in his head.

Wait… Isn’t that—!

Wild torrent of fire barreled towards him like a missile. Faster than his heartbeat would allow, the heat crept up his skin, hearing its roar rumbling through his body.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!

He just barely had enough time to propel away as his leg failed to escape the blast, the fire engulfing his right side into its maw before he jetted away. His speed blew away the lingering flames gripping his pants, the last remnants flickering in the air leaving a trail of ash.

He bit back a swear, wincing at the remaining heat gnawing at his skin.

Hot, but not burnt.

The muscles in his legs tensed, the only saving grace from his mistake being the heat resistant fabric that burned to a crisp and what remained on his leg revealing a flushed calf.

0:25

Shit, I forgot he was also a long-range fighter. Damn handicaps.

He exhaled through his nose, expelling the smell of ash and charred fabric, his own breath cooler than the air around him. His hands jittered a bit from the sudden explosion of concentrated Sky Flames, his cloak billowing behind him as he observed Endeavor’s movements. Even from up high, his large imposing figure didn't seem to lessen. The man glared up at him, a ball of fire already in his hands.

Fast!

Tsuna quickly dodged the first fireball. The second almost grazing his shoulder.

He predicted where I was going to dodge— he thought with narrowed eyes.

0:21

Endeavor clicked his tongue, fire spiralling around his hands like a whirlpool. He barely gave him a second to breathe as he launched another wave of fireballs hurtling towards him.

Tsuna quickly weaved through the spray of rapid-fire spitting up at him like a gatling gun, leaving behind a sporadic trail of orange Flames. As he dodged the next wave, the walls swept by his peripherals, noting how they weren’t charred or dented.

0:15

The onslaught of fire didn’t cease, Tsuna suddenly finding himself thanking Reborn and Kyoya for his aerial training as Endeavor shot the fireballs in an arc, making it twice as difficult to navigate through the dense air exploding in a cacophony of orange and red, energy rippling through each blast with a smokey ring.

He could feel and taste the weight of the air like cotton stuffed in his mouth. He could feel the grey fumes sticking to his sweat as it filled his eyes and lungs, the sound of hissing fire still stuck in his eardrums.

But all for the greater good.

Tsuna didn’t stay airborne just to decrease the chances of facing Endeavor’s punches. But with the amount of fire he threw up, the smoke built up enough to give him some cover. If he aimed it just right, he could probably even shoot an X-burner safely—

A piercing blue sat amongst the red and orange filling his vision as Tsuna widened his eyes in surprise.

0:09

Tsuna tried to flee, but in the thin window of his shocked state, Endeavor’s fist came crashing down on him faster.

0:09

Endeavor’s fist lodged itself into his stomach.

0:09

CRASH!!!

0:09

By the time he coughed up blood, his back had already hit the red line on the floor.

0:09

By the time he registered the pain, the match was over.

0:08

His only saving grace was his hard Flames instinctively firing out, balancing out the force of being catapulted into the ground. If not, his spine would’ve been obliterated.

As the timer stopped and yells were heard, Tsuna was only left with one bittersweet thought:

He held back.

Chapter Text

As the dust settled, Tsuna heard loud footsteps rushing towards him accompanied by yells. 

I’m not sure if I should be relieved that he held his punch or pissed off that he did.

He groaned, wincing at the dull, throbbing ache in his neck and coccyx, followed by a sharp pain in his sides. It was just sore, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with his Sun Flames hidden below his cloak. If it had been anyone else than him, falling from that great a height and velocity would definitely have broken something. If not, faint from being drilled into the ground.

Then he coughed up blood.

Nevermind then.

He quickly ducked his head behind his other arm, pretending that he was just wiping some sweat off. Looks like being shot through the chest by a punch that could send an adult flying across the block wasn’t in his list of immunities.

I can’t believe that the punch did more damage than the fall impact.

Honestly, he was surprised he didn’t have a ruptured stomach. A man, almost twice as big, hitting a glass cannon fighter like him wasn’t exactly ideal. His throat felt fine if not a little hoarse so that blood probably came from a punctured something. At least the bone wasn’t wedged too far in. Oh, don’t get him wrong. It was painful as all hell. It felt like a sharpened metal straw was stabbing his sides every time he breathed. And if he was about ten percent less aware of his surroundings, he probably would’ve frozen Endeavor in a glacier by now.

But he was better than that. Reborn taught him to never show such weaknesses to your opponents lest they target your vulnerabilities. And by now his pain tolerance was through the roof.

He groaned as the white-hot sear of Sun Flames mended the broken rib, sewing the fleshy walls of his organs together. He was definitely going to see a doctor just in case though, his Sun Flames weren’t nearly as fast or strong to sanitize and burn anything that might’ve spilled out from his stomach inside his body. Honestly, the only reason why he could even vaguely diagnose himself was because of how many times his bones broke. 

Praying to God that I don’t have a rupture.

Sometimes he wished he had whatever body or mind Kyoya had for himself to somehow command his own body to heal faster or to just stop hurting. No, Tsuna was but a humble mortal compared to that bloodthirsty behemoth. He had to heal like any other person with magical fire commanding the forces of nature.

Tsuna shifted his stance, his hand still over the wound as he saw Borage running towards him with the on-site medical staff, frantic, his hair in a frazzled grey.

“Are you okay!? Oh my God, don’t get up.”

He pushed his hair back, cold dread crawling down his spine, checking if Tsuna was still conscious and aware. The latter wrapped his cloak around himself to hide the Flame’s light. The former clicked his tongue, shooting a glare at Endeavor.

“Did you seriously have to go all out!?”

Sam joined him. “I must agree! Endeavor, I have told you countless times that—”

Endeavor rolled his eyes. “I didn’t.”

“He really didn’t,” Tsuna added as he stood up, his mantle still covering him as if he was an eighteenth-century vampire. “It was my own fault that I failed to land inside the border.”

“What!? I’m not talking about the match! You were—! Just what kind of bullshit high standards do you have for yourself!? And you didn’t 'land’ you were catapulted!”

“I’ve experienced worse.” Tsuna winced, his rib finally setting into place. “I’m fine Borage—”

“You’re alive.”

“And in my book, that’s either a punishment or an acceptable result.” He opened his cloak, finally allowing the medical staff to touch him. “And I’m more inclined on the latter.”

He groaned as his hair turned white-sliver with a brush of red.

Tsuna’s breath hitched as the residual pain jerked his side. Too bad his Flames couldn’t produce anesthetics.

“I agreed to these rules and if I went against any of them then that’s my fault for not landing inside the perimeter.”

He had time limits in his spars before but the perimeter rule was something he didn’t have much experience in. Most of his battles encouraged using whatever space he was given—sometimes even more if the fight escalated—Kyoya—to a dangerous level.

“How would you even change trajectory mid-fall!?”

By defying logic and all known physics. Or being Reborn. —he thought humourlessly.

“No need to get worked up, Borage. I appreciate it, but my pride doesn’t hinge on a single loss.”

“You got hurt!”

Yep. “Mild muscle pain at worst.”

“But!”

“I said I’m fine, Haya— ahem, excuse me, Borage.”

With those silver locks, he reminded him of Hayato in their early days when he fretted over every injury and confrontation he had.

“Moreover...” Tsuna shifted his attention to Endeavor, silently thanking Rosemary for reeling Borage in. “I’ve got to say, I didn’t really expect you to fly. ”

“I merely jumped better than you could hover.” Unsurprising answer.

The medical staff finished, explaining that they couldn’t find any serious internal or external wounds; just increased body temperature, a few scratches and small bruises, and the typical injuries they would regularly see in a fight. But no burns. Endeavor’s ears perked with an odd glint in his eyes. At most, they explained, Tsuna had high levels of stress hormones, endorphins, and melatonin—

Sounds about right.

—among other chemical imbalances yet nothing that indicated immediate life-threatening consequences. They explained that it was commonplace in heroes, especially in underground heroes, to have exhaustion and fatigue. But that being said…

“We recommend stopping or suspending this fight,” the doctor commented, “although most heroes deal with stress and fatigue... Cielo, are you experiencing problems with slower reflexes and awareness?”

YES. “Somewhat.”

“Have you felt more irritable lately? Feeling a bit… emotionally involved after this round?”

Do you mean salty? Then Tsuna would be worth his weight in gold.

“...I try not to inconvenience others.”

He sighed. “You’re burning out. This level of stress and brain activity is something we’d see in heroes who just finished a large-scale raid. You need to rest. Frankly, I don't even know how you're so conscious right now.”

“I’ve been through worse, no need to worry.”

He frowned. “Your standard shouldn’t be at your worst.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

He stepped back giving him an eye that said, please take care of yourself. Tsuna wondered how much the doctor had to say that—only for heroes to disregard his advice—for him to age ten years just from that statement.

“For how long do we need to suspend this match?” Endeavor asked the representative.

“How long!? Cielo was in a six-hour raid with barely any sleep before we came here!” Borage argued, pushing back angry curls. “We should’ve suspended the fight before it began.”

In contrast to the seriousness shown on his companions’ faces, Tsuna could only marvel at the usefulness of a Quirk that could instantly analyze the human body’s systems. The external and internal comment implied that they could scan for nearly all of the major organ systems, not just visible or tangible wounds. Could they analyze their targets’ previous injuries? Judging from their lack of “oh shit, how the fuck did you rearrange your fucking spine together?” probably not. Or maybe they were already used to such injuries on a hero.

On a side note, how the hell was this person not a hero? He couldn't even imagine the possibilities if that Quirk was obtained by a skilled Sun Flame user!

Tsuna turned his head as he heard the sound of shy footsteps approaching slowly. It seemed like no one else had noticed amongst their arguments. He tried to make himself look small and as welcoming as possible, considering a group of arguing adults would be a scary sight for any child.

“Did we scare you?” he spoke gently with a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

Shoto flinched, staring at him with widened eyes before his body slowly crumbled under the turning eyes of so many adults.

Then he ran away.

The broken rib hurt less.

“Cielo, can you continue?” the UHPPS representative asked.

He nodded despite Sam’s and Borage’s protests.

“He literally got thrown into the floor!” he argued. “Not only that, didn’t you hear the doctor!?”

Rosemary gave him a look. “Borage—”

The representative sighed, looking at him like a child crying over spilt milk. “Do you honestly think so little of underground heroes? Do you not think he knew the risks involved? Do you think this is the first-ever case of stress in a hero? In Cielo? He is confirmed not to be injured and wishes to continue. Do you still raise any objections?”

He bit back a retort as Rosemary placed a hand on his back in a show of support. He was young and too visibly emotionally-attached. He might’ve been aware of the dirty politics involving heroes and seeing them fight on the streets but seeing someone he knew? Someone who he’s seen as nearly untouchable in the battlefield shot into the ground? Up close? He couldn’t bear to see any more of that.

Tsuna meanwhile stared at the floor, ceiling, and walls again. Not a dent or a crack. When he slid his hands over the surfaces previously, it wasn’t hot either—a little warm at most like a stovetop that’s been cooling off for minutes—despite having literal balls of fire thrown at it just moments prior.

Looks like I made two miscalculations...

First, the information he collected about the room he saw during the contract making process was null and useless. If a human body crashing into the ground at high velocity didn’t even make a dent, then the in-repair room he saw before was not only fixed, but heavily improved on. In hindsight, maybe being thrown like a ragdoll wasn’t the best way to test that theory but besides some temporary minor muscle aches, such a thing wouldn’t have injured him (sans the Endeavor factor). He’d literally had his spine shattered once and faced the mafia equivalent of death, this was nothing.

To be honest, he didn’t know if he should feel cheated that during one of the few times he scouted the place himself, it ended up being useless, or to be honoured that they made such improvements just for this match.

Either this place is made by some indestructible Quirk or...

Second, Endeavor didn’t need scaffolding to gain height, and his flames were strong enough to remedy that. In fact, after that, many of his prior experiences couldn’t have prepared him for Endeavor or anyone else as strong in this universe for that matter.

Conclusion? He placed too much faith in his research without the proper context. In fact—

Endeavor snapped him out of his analysis with a low growl.

“Why didn’t you use your ice Quirk?” Endeavor, less asked than, questioned commandingly.

Tsuna shrugged nonchalantly if only to irritate the man further. “I saw no need to.”

“Uh… Boss, you lost—” Borage was cut off by Rosemary’s shush.

Endeavor narrowed his eyes. “Use it combatively next round and don’t hold back.”

I’ve never heard someone with so much life left asking to die.

“I used as much power as needed.”

A dilemma: to use his ice or not? Considering how hot Endeavor’s fire was, being unable to melt ice would bring too much unnecessary, contrived, and dangerous attention to him. And he’d already dealt with that before in another dimension, he didn’t need another incident like that one here. Well, so did this entire match for that matter but he wasn’t about to break into their house to fulfill Natsuo’s wish when there were other options. Besides, how creepy would it be for a child to be handed a “secret” letter by an unfamiliar adult who broke into their home and claimed they knew their brother who was also a child living in the same house? Yeah, no.

If only the Hero Association wasn’t watching, what a shame. He understood their significance, but drawing more attention to himself was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. He was already on their radar since his powers didn’t match up with Basil’s description of him. Not to mention the chase. He was relatively safe for now, but if it went on, the contradictions would pile up. And he wasn’t about to give any more reasons as to why his agency was so overworked.

“But...” He smiled politely. Too politely. “Who am I to defy the wishes of our most accommodating host?”

Rosemary’s breath hitched, legs locking into place in a horrifying realization. Before Borage could agitate the situation any further, as soon as she could move again, she silently grabbed a fistful of his sleeve, dragging him away from the arena back to their seats.

Despite shooting her an offended look, he sat down. “‘mary! Don’t you feel a little irritated that our Boss lost the first round cause of some stupid—!?”

“That madman... just like Basil,” she muttered through her fingers. Her ears flicked, biting her lips, a drop of sweat rolling down her neck.

“Uh… What?”

“And here I was worried over...” she grumbled, massaging her temples, one leg bouncing.

“Hey, Earth to Rosemary. What am I missing here?”

“Just… watch.”

Was this the man who was going to replace his mom?

That was the first thought Shoto had when he saw the hero standing across his father. It didn’t hold much judgement—more so cautious curiosity and fear. He didn’t hate the man when he first saw him but he was going to replace his mom. His older sister also told him that the hero was strong. Father liked strong people.

Mom wasn’t strong. She was always quiet and sleeping. Fuyumi told him it was because she got easily tired—that she was sick.

This hero was strong.

He was going to replace his mom.

He didn’t want that. He liked his mom. He didn’t like this man. He didn’t like his father for doing this. He didn’t want more training. Training hurts. It makes mom sad and more sick.

It didn’t help that the man also had a fire Quirk. He didn’t like that. He thought he had an ice Quirk like his mom. That was why father told him to come watch, right? But he also had a fire one. Someone with two Quirks just like him.

Fuyumi told him that this man was nice and that he had nice Quirks like his—similar to his. But he couldn’t see how fire could be nice. Fire hurt when touched and it was painful when he practised with it. Fire was his father’s. None of his other family members had fire Quirks. Maybe his eldest brother had it? He couldn’t remember and he never asked. Fire melted, separated.

How can fire be nice?

Father wasn’t nice. Shoto might’ve been young but he still knew what nice people were—Fuyumi came to mind. Shoto wasn’t nice. If he was nice, mom wouldn’t be so sad. If he was like All Might, mom would be happy.

But he wasn’t. He was his father’s. So this man also wasn’t nice.

At least that's what he thought.

When he saw his father beat him, Shoto couldn’t help but flinch and become worried. He’s never seen his father so aggressive even in his training and training hurts. He felt a pang of empathy for the man. For a brief moment he also wondered, was he like me?

But Shoto still wouldn’t let down his guard. He didn’t trust the man. He didn’t want his mom to be replaced!

But then he spoke to him.

After the bell had rung followed by a flurry of yells by the adults around him. Shoto watched as the adults scrambled to check if the man was okay. Shoto looked up at his father to see his annoyed and disappointed expression—the one he was already well-acquainted with.

Was he like me?

He turned his eyes towards the fallen man, now obscured by the bodies of the medical staff. Despite his anxieties, Shoto still worried for the man and slowly inched towards him, using the chaos of worried and angry voices to cover him. He didn’t expect to be noticed, he was very good at sneaking around. Mom was sensitive to noise so he practiced moving quietly until his steps blended in with the natural hums and creaks of house.

But he noticed. The man noticed. Shoto flinched.

It was the first time Shoto had actually met his eyes without the cover of his sister or the solace of burying himself in his shirt. There was something about him. It was a feeling in his gut and a whisper in his ears—that sounded like Fuyumi—that said the man was good and kind. Despite losing, his face was void of angry lines and the oppressing heat he'd expected to feel. He looked at him the way some of the nice market ladies he’d met gave him—the way mom looked at him before she got sick—sicker.

Shoto was feeling weird.

So he ran.

The representative sighed as she saw the two leave. “Apologies for being so curt with your employee, Cielo. But we have no—”

Her words were cut off by her phone vibrating in her pocket.

“Excuse me. Please give me five minutes.”

Both of them nodded as Sam reprimanded an annoyed Endeavor with an amused Tsuna watching.

She walked some distance away and took out her earphones, answering the call.

“Yes? Did you apprehend them?” she spoke quietly but sternly into the mic.

“Most of them,” the other side answered. “We counted fourteen but scout says she saw fifteen. We’ve already alerted Endeavor’s side. His sidekicks and an intern of theirs are helping us in the search.”

“Damn tabloids. Do you know their Quirk?”

She could hear a sigh. "Yea. We saw it. It's invisibility."

“Of all the—!” She groaned, trying to remain composed. “Which publication?”

“The Hero Exposure.”

“Of course, it just had to be that rat company!”

“You’d think after the first three lawsuits they’d stop. We’re lucky the information they sold didn’t spread far.”

“How’d they even get Endeavor’s, let alone Cielo’s, information?”

“I don’t know. But I’d recommend stopping the match soon. They didn’t strike me as the speedy-type. From here, it’ll probably take about eight, no, maybe ten minutes? Sooner if they know the streets. They’re going on foot but we’re screening every car within a block radius just in case.”

She sighed one final time, running through all the legal nonsense she’d have to deal with for this. “Alright, thanks. Keep me informed.”

Click.

She headed towards the two heroes stretching in the arena. “Cielo, Endeavor. A word.” The two looked at her curiously. “I’ve just been informed that there may be a privacy breach soon. We are either going to stop the match now or have this round be the final one. I recommend the former as Endeavor won the first round any—”

“The latter option,” the two said in sync.

Her brows shot up, not expecting either of the men to continue. Damn it.

“Very well. We’ll start quickly.”

Now with everyone safely back in their places, the representative looked at both men, one finger hovering over the countdown button.

“Are you two ready?”

“Yes,” Tsuna said as Endeavor nodded.

“Alright. Round two begins… now!”

3:00

Tsuna sauntered around Endeavor like a glowering lioness, eyes a simmering orange. His steps were light yet it commanded strength and weight into movement.

He had seen many fights, been in many fights. But the footage didn’t do Endeavor justice. The speed of his fire was so much faster—hotter. And in that, he had unfortunately been incorrect in his predictions. The base human biology and attributes of this universe were different than his. His universe evolved to accommodate Flames due to the Tri-ni-sette as its origin. Not to mention that the change happened over countless millennia. Even so, not much of the base human body changed.

If someone from his world was flung against a building, they would shatter their bones. Perhaps even lose their lives.

For this world to accommodate for Quirks, and a rapid expansion of it over only a few centuries no less, their bodies evolved to be much stronger and more durable. Twenty percent of the populace was considered Quirkless. A large majority of that was from the previous generations—more specifically the elderly. In exchange for technological expansion, human biology evolved. It explained how the hospitals here weren’t constantly overrun with injured heroes, villains, and civilians.

If someone from this world was flung against a building, they would break their bones. Maybe even less.

It was a miscalculation on his part. To think he averaged Endeavor’s fire by his universe’s standards. A foolish mistake in which Reborn would kill him himself if he ever found out. Endeavor’s body was not only built to be more resistant than his, but his Quirk granted him even higher immunity against the heat. What that limit was, he didn't have a clue. Not only that, but his fire also propelled him without the use of gas as far as he knew. Newton's Third Law be damned. At least in Tsuna’s case, Flames were inherently a force outside of human understanding.

Then it was no wonder Endeavor took things head-on instead of dodging.

The topic was always at the back of his mind but came full force during the on-call last night that ran to this morning. Besides having what Tsuna considered at the moment to be the most annoying Quirk in existence (running away semi-effectively), during the chase one question arose about four hours in when he got tired of playing by his self-imposed the rules and used his Flames to propel his foot directly into the villain's spine.

Was that excessive? Yes. Did he really need to do that? No. But he was tired and to put it plainly, pissed. Tsuna was by no means a pacifist (or a blood-thirsty maniac) but he’d let many things slide. One part was because of how he was raised outside the mafia's influence in his childhood and the other part was out of convenience. Years of dealing with people trained his eyes to see the path of least resistance. 

There were only a handful of things that made the young don merciless, however. The most obvious example being any malicious intent thrown at his family or friends. The other was disturbing his precious sleep.

So when an elusive gang of thieves who were somehow fairly efficient in escaping, not to mention loud, herded the heroes in a wild goose chase for over six fucking hours after days of busy preparation for this match, yes, he lost a bit of self-control.

It was when his foot made contact with the man’s back that Tsuna snapped out of his irritated haze, realizing that kicking a man through the spine into a concrete building would kill him. And good heroes did not kill people.

Very insightful, me.

As the loud crash! reverberated through the alleyway, a few things rapidly ran through his head. Most of which were:

Shit, sorry.

Excessive.

Was anyone watching?

Where can I hide a body here?

Should I tell the police the thief got away?

How should I decorate this scene?

And— Oh wait. Was he still breathing?

He’d been slacking in his training but he knew damn well that his kick could and should’ve shattered his spine and killed him. But no. He saw the man’s diaphragm move, albeit a very miniscule amount.

On a side note, it seemed that the police were completely okay with him nearly killing a man as they saw it as a necessary evil and punishment for those who went into crime. They were also apparently used to underground heroes using more brutal methods in a capture. Seriously, what was the difference between underground heroism and vigilantism? Ethics in this universe were fucked up for sure. But what did he expect from a world which balanced themselves on the shoulders of just one man and an artificial binary between heroism and villainy?

It was during this time that the poor security measures and the lack of safety awareness, in which this universe’s people had, made sense. People flocked to open and dangerous battles like spectators to a sports game because, although they were still human, their immunities and resistances were biologically sturdier than the people of his universe. It was the reason why there was what was essentially a child fighting ring replacing a high school sports festival. It was the reason why there were some heroes that made it past age thirty despite what was supposed to be crippling injuries.

Still, that was all theoretical. But that punch—that fire—proved his theory correct.

Ah, but Tsuna didn’t worry so much as feeling a sense of satisfaction.

He really didn’t have much to lose. If he won, he won. He lost, he lost. He wasn’t like his guardians or many of his close friends where he prided himself on winning frivolous battles. Not to seem overconfident but regardless of the verdict, Tsuna was sure that Endeavor wasn’t a man to dismiss someone just because they lost in a regulated match.

For Tsuna, ever the hypocrite, was more interested in satisfying his curiosities about this world for future, more pressing events. For example, what if that on-call wasn’t just solely about grand larceny but a sociopathic megalomaniac with some overpowered Quirk? If he had used that amount of force towards someone like that, he, or even worse, others might’ve been hurt because of his ignorance.

Information was valuable, worth more than gold, deadlier than a bullet. As long as he didn’t humiliate himself or his family, small sacrifices to gain information were worth it—it was one of the first things Reborn taught him after he became don Vongola.

Though he was still sure his hypocritic advisor would punish him for “losing” regardless.

He wasn’t smug, just satisfied. Because he could see it: the slight crease in his opponent’s brows and a sneer indicating annoyance and disappointment. Someone who overestimated him feeling cheated. A lowered guard. A window of opportunity; a written will packaged ever so nicely in an envelope and a stamp. For him, of course. For Endeavor, it was a grave miscalculation.

If this was his world, that underestimation would lead to nothing but the promise of a shallow grave and their face on the cover of tomorrow’s obituary.

Okay, so maybe he was a little salty. Damn that doctor was really on the mark, wasn’t he?

In his defence, you don’t stop being salty when you had battle maniacs like Xanxus and Kyoya hound you for a rematch for a battle that happened over a decade ago. Also, more often than not, spite was a better motivator. Even more than fear.

And now he had some resolve.

Regardless, what he told Borage wasn’t a lie. It was his fault for not keeping track of the parameters and being rash in his planning. Granted, he was also thinking of hundreds of other things but a don couldn’t afford to make any excuses. He was by no means arrogant but being a Vongola meant that you had some degree of impulsivity.

Well, he’ll at least give the man some credit. He wasn’t completely underestimating him, just disappointed.

2:50

“I truly hope you don’t see the people at my agency as any lesser due to my performance, Endeavor,” Tsuna said, striking up a friendly conversation in the middle of battle.

Endeavor gave him a look as if to say, why are you talking in the middle of battle? Just when Tsuna thought he wouldn’t respond—

“If there is any evidence of failure then the fault lies in poor management of the one in charge,” he scoffed.

Eh.

Eh?

Ehh???

He... He really didn’t expect that. A dismissive grunt maybe, but not an actual answer.

Endeavor scowled, irritated at Tsuna’s blatant surprise. “Do you think I’m so pathetic as to drag in the uninvolved?”

If he was honest? Kind of? Heroism was a business after all and it saw the head representing the body. More so from his mafian background, that statement was taken literally.

If he only applied that same philosophy as a father.

Tsuna let out a noncommittal hum.

“Enough. You’re wasting my time. Show me your Quirks.”

Tsuna gasped mockingly. “Goodness, Endeavor! For a limelight hero you sure don’t know about dramatic tension, do you?”

The straight-up bored and annoyed look Endeavor shot him made him chuckle.

2:10

“Are they just… talking?”

“He’s lost his mind.”

“Are we sure that he didn’t hit his head from earlier?”

Shoto ignored the murmurs of the adults around him, instead opting to stare at the man laughing in the presence of his father. In all his life, he’s never seen anyone smile, let alone laugh, at or with his father. Not mom, not Fuyumi, not Natsuo, and maybe not his late brother. He didn’t know, he couldn’t remember what he looked like. Maybe some villains? But that didn’t count. Villains were bad.

It was odd. He was feeling odd.

Fuyumi told him that people laughed when they were happy. She told him that smiling and laughing came naturally when you were with people you liked.

So why did this hero laughing in front of his father? Was he a bad guy like he initially thought?

But Fuyumi said he was good? She said that this hero saved her and his big brother. She said he was nice. Was this what nice people did? Was that why All Might always smiled? But he didn’t feel like All Might… But he looked and sounded nice.

Was this how regular heroes were supposed to feel like?

He was odd. This man was odd.

2:10

“Endeavor—”

“I thought underground heroes were supposed to be quiet.”

Tsuna snorted. He could list more than ten people on the top of his head that defied that stereotype—Ryohei and Squalo came immediately to mind.

“Alright, alright. Last question. Did you happen to keep a track of the time last round?”

2:00

Endeavor looked at him strangely. “Eight seconds left.”

He grinned. “So you haven’t. You see, it took four seconds for you to switch to a different tactic and throw fireballs at me. Ten seconds for you to switch tactics again, two more for you to land a hit on me. I was quite stunned that you could fly that I didn’t react fast enough—my idiotic mistake. It took, in total, twenty-one seconds for you to hit me—twenty-two when I hit the floor.”

1:35

“Your point?”

“If you’re so eager to find out, have a few more seconds of patience.” Endeavor scowled deeper at his own words being used against him. “You see, underground heroes may not be quiet, per say, but what we are… is observant. And the interior here is quite amazing to retain such heat and force without a crack!”

1:15

“Your. Point.”

Tsuna promptly ignored him. “Back home, my… community has this thing called “Vongola hospitality”. It was created by one of my ancestors. Basically, it means anything we take, we give in equal value; if they take from us, pay them back with double the interest. My mentor taught me that and honestly, I would not only disgrace him but also myself if I were to go against such a traditional saying, wouldn’t I?”

0:50

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Tsuna laughed but his voice was flat and didn’t reach his eyes. “My apologies, it seems like I accidentally slipped in another question. Just one more comment—come now, don’t scowl—I promise. This will be the last thing I say before I start fighting.”

0:35

He lifted an open palm towards Endeavor, his other hand opening up behind him. His legs opened wide with his arms, knees slightly bent. To everyone this seemed like an odd stance, full of openings. It looked like he was bracing himself—as if the walls would close in on him.

0:33

Endeavor watched as Cielo assumed an odd stance. Now, normally this would make him suspicious and he would naturally stop whatever his opponent was doing before they could finish. But he was curious. Cielo seemed to know that as well and took his sweet time.

0:33

“Keep an eye on the clock.”

0:31

Endeavor reflexively glanced at the one-way mirror hiding the spectator's side from his view.

The lines on his face hardened. “...What—?”

0:30

BOOOOOM!!

Endeavor could hear the deafening roar of Flames faster than he could see or even its heat—if there even was one. He quickly dodged, the surprised frown lifting into a smirk. He could still feel it ringing in his ears, the piercing sound being more akin to a jet engine than a wave of fire.

Yes, Yes! Finally, this was—

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

!!!

Endeavor jerked and jumped away, fire jutting out like engines, just barely dodging the blast—the continuous blast. Cielo didn’t look any more tired than before, not even a drop of sweat from his own heat.

Yes, this is what Shoto can become!

Cielo didn’t give him a moment’s rest as the roar of orange closed in on him like a cheetah hunting a wildebeest. Endeavor ran as he observed Tsuna attacking with his endless flood of fire, the one pointing towards him erupting harshly while a softer one growled behind him. He braced but otherwise kept stationary only angling his body and arms to chase him.

So he's a long-range fighter like I thought—

Before he could finish that thought, Cielo appeared through the tunnel of flames with a whoosh!, advancing towards him in a burst, the fire tearing through the air like the wings of a jet.

0:25

Endeavor shot his arms out, using his larger frame to reach around Tsuna's back, gripping his cloak, one foot anchoring him to the ground as the other pivoted, rotating his torso, muscles ripping him from the air, using his own momentum against him to fling him down at a breakneck speed outside the ring.

Tsuna just as quickly flipped over, the muscles on his legs readying impact, uncrossing his arms behind him, expelling a massive jet of Flames as his foot touched the wall, using it as a springboard, he blasted off towards Endeavor. Barely registering it himself, Endeavor instinctively crossed his arms in front of him to lessen the impact as suddenly the heat shifted to his left side—his eyes widening a fraction, eyes unable to trace how the man moved so quickly—!

“You told me not to hold back,” Tsuna whispered, his voice slithering into Endeavor's ears like a snake.

—Before Tsuna bashed his side with a high-velocity Flame-fueled punch sending him rocketing off into the northern wall.

0:20

CRASH!!!

0:19

Tsuna landed on the tips of his toes, gently lowering his heel as if he finished an elegant duet, purposely upping the bravado as he bowed to the stunned man now lying outside the red line, a mockingly polite grin on his face.

“—but still, I only used as much power as needed.”

0:19

“Endeavor has stepped out of bounds! The final round goes to Cielo!”

Chapter Text

Most fights were quick and unlike in movies or televised matches, usually, one good punch was simply enough to end the fight. Or in this universe, whatever Quirk was equivalent to one good punch. They were performances after all and heroes were no different than actors and actresses on a grander stage. Sure you can just get it over with but such a move was already unofficially trademarked by All Might. If you tried, you’d just be labelled as an All Might wannabe or something, unable to create a brand or identity for yourself. Besides, the crowd loved a little drama and danger. Although, yes, efficiency was vital in emergency situations, most televised confrontations between a hero and a villain weren’t all that dire especially after All Might rose as the Symbol of Peace.

So when the spectators not only saw Endeavor lose but get launched outside the boundaries in such a short amount of time, the shock had not only stunned their faces but grasped their throats.

“Endeavor has stepped out of bounds! The final round goes to Cielo!” the UHPPS representative announced after a pause.

“Ho— Holy shit...” Borage uttered under his breath in equal parts awe and disbelief.

Rosemary crossed her arms, nails digging into her suit, hair standing at the back of her neck. “Just like Basil...”

Tsuna brought his arm up as if to block a cough instead of hiding the fact that he was on the verge of throwing up. If he had eaten anything but an energy bar in the past eight hours, suppressing his queasy stomach would've been much harder. Sun Flames may have healed him but the aftereffects were still present. It was as if his organs were untethered and sloshing around inside him. It didn’t hurt per se, at least not anymore, but instead, the sensation was more akin to an uncomfortable sense of vertigo. Healing then fighting immediately afterwards was a bad decision on his part but sleep deprivation often compelled the worst life decisions in him.

Ughk… Healing myself took so much more energy than I thought.

He knew his more well-rested self was going to criticize him for it but for now, the nauseousness was well worth it. Truly, he has only the mafia to thank for his more vengeful attitude growing over the years. Although he still felt a pang of envy when the man he just punched into a wall, who should’ve been knocked unconscious, got back up with nothing but a scowl and a few scratches (probably bruises too but he couldn’t see that). Yes, he used much less power than he could've or should've but still...

Looks like he braced himself fast enough before the impact. Hm… His reaction time is faster than I thought. Not too many would’ve — or rather could’ve — caught him mid-flight. I’ll have to remember that for later.

And on the subject of injuries, how the hell did he get back up so fast? Bracing yourself was one thing but the sheer force of being launched into a wall should’ve stunned him for a little while longer, if not given him a concussion. Hell, even Dino sometimes felt dizzy — or outright fell unconscious for a few seconds in some rare cases — when he tripped and the whiplash of his head being violently knocked back gave him a mild concussion. Seriously, what the hell was this universe made of?

He walked over towards Endeavor and held his hand out. “Hope I didn’t break anything.”

Endeavor scowled, ignoring his hand. “I’m fine,” he growled as he got up, rolling his shoulders. “You're stronger than you look.”

Tsuna had to give him credit. He looked annoyed — although when hasn’t he? — but he took the loss well. He didn’t avoid his eyes, no flush of red in anger or embarrassment either. In fact, he looked more resolute than ever (the twinge of obsession still remained). He half expected to be thrown into another fight like Kyoya or for him to become enraged like Xanxus. Pride in battle did not look good on his comrades or on the annual expenses sheet.

Tsuna shrugged. “I like to defy expectations.”

“Those aren’t reliable words for a future tutor to say.” Endeavor chuffed. “You passed my expectations. Although...” He glared daggers at him. “Why didn’t you use your ice Quirk?”

Tsuna folded his hands behind him, a polite grin on his face. “As I said before, I had no need to.”

“Arrogance isn’t a good look on a hero.”

“And I’m sure you know all about that, Endeavor," he said bluntly. "Thank you for the advice but I’m not one to rush in blindly. I know my limits."

Probably not my smartest move but...

He lifted one of his arms towards Endeavor, his palm facing up, a ball of orange Flames bursting out of his hands. He twirled his wrist as the Flames slithered around him like a snake, leaving a trail of ice behind it over his clothes before "melting" away. Just to rub salt on the wound, even if he felt a nagging sensation at the back of his head, Tsuna concentrated a large deposit of Flames over his palm before the pillar of fire rapidly froze — crystal-like pines crawling up the spire of Flames.

Endeavor's eyes narrowed, struggling between elation that he found a tutor with extraordinary balance and control, or being extremely pissed off that he didn't use it for battle.

"Speaking of—" Tsuna stilled for a moment, his hyper intuition's nagging turning into a yell, alerting him of... something. No danger though. Uneasy, he completely waved his Flames away. "Let’s hurry this little talk. I’d like to get checked out by a doctor just in case.”

But more importantly, he just wanted to get some sleep, damn it. The week's worth of complete sleep cycles back at the Todoroki's summer home had spoiled him.

Endeavor rose a brow. “Paranoid, are you?”

He supposed in a world where Quirks were seen as definite, it made sense that he would’ve been seen as paranoid. But even the most skilled Suns could make mistakes. He didn’t know how absolute Quirks were in reality and he wasn’t about to take any chances. 

He shook his head. “I’m not trying to insult the doctor’s abilities in any way. But in my line of work, it’s better to act now then wait for a potential wound to fester. Quirks are a part of the human body and humans aren’t infallible.”

Endeavor blinked before humming thoughtfully at his words. Tsuna looked at him curiously. He didn’t think he said anything worth pondering. And if he was just a little less aware, he would’ve missed that brief moment of… pensiveness? —that passed through the man’s eyes. Or maybe he really did imagine it. It wouldn’t surprise him, he was pretty out of it right now. Endeavor probably thought that underground heroes had an odd perspective on the world. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten weird looks from what he'd said.

“Fine.” Oh? Tsuna honestly didn’t think he would agree to it so easily. “However, if nothing is wrong, I expect us to meet tomorrow to make the tutoring contract.”

Great more paperwork. Tsuna nodded.

“We’ll make sure to include it in his schedule,” Rosemary said from behind him followed by Borage, who looked like he was about to explode. “Cielo, we should leave now. We haven’t gotten word yet on the security breach—”

“Hey, Sam! I got some good news!”

Tsuna turned towards the source of the loud voice and saw a young girl slamming the doors open. On fire. Her hair was on fire. It was fire? At least she didn’t have Endeavor’s on-fire clown car aesthetic.

She waved animatedly, a bright grin on her face. “The red light wasn’t on, so I let myself in! Hey Endeavor!”

“Burnin!” Sam yelled, quickly running towards her. “Please be respectful, we have guests. You could’ve just messaged me.”

She crossed her arms, ignoring his incoming lecture in favour of scanning the room. Seems like this was a common occurrence.

“Sure, sure," she dismissed with a wave of her hands. "Anyways! Guess who I caught!”

Sam sighed like he aged ten years from that sentence alone.

“I caught a media rat!” she said, answering her own question. “Deal says the department has to add an extra mission into my schedule!”

“And where is this person?”

“Ask one of the UHPPS guys.”

Sam looked at the representative walking towards them as if to confirm what she’d said.

“Yes, I just got the message now,” she affirmed, eyes scrolling through her phone. “He’s in our custody.” She glanced at Endeavor and then to Tsuna. “I still recommend ending the match now just in case.” She looked back at the young hero, giving her a short bow. “Thank you for your help, Burin.”

She shot her a wide grin before focusing on Tsuna. “So you’re that hero everyone’s been hush-hush about. Nice to finally meet ya, fellow fire Quirk hero! Flame on, bud!”

Tsuna gave her a polite nod, strangely enough, her bold personality actually felt more familiar to him. She reminded him of Takeshi's and Naito's cheerful personalities.

“Where’s Agni?” Sam asked, looking behind her. “He was supposed to supervise you until Endeavor was free.”

She shrugged. “Hey don’t blame me! He was called in for an emergency and told me to head back to the agency. I saw some guy with a creepy grin neck deep into his phone muttering something about Endeavor on the way in and as a hero, I beat him up!”

“Please never phrase it like that in front of the cameras...”

Oh, she must be one of the students on work studies.

He remembered Borage mentioning something about hero schools sending their students to hero agencies as a form of practical cooperative education. It served as both a volunteer service for credits and a ticket into a secure future. He didn’t know how to feel about the standardization of what was essentially indoctrinating child soldiers to be eaten alive by media sensationalism. Oh, he hated it but he couldn’t exactly change how this universe’s society worked solely from that alone.

On that topic, at least the mafia had the excuse of being the mafia. It wasn’t supposed to be a good place — though he tried to remedy its effects as much as he could. This, however, was like combining the all issues of using children as weapons and using them for entertainment into one pretty (disturbing) package. But he could also see the benefits of having specialized facilities. Being that Quirks were unique to each bloodline or group and was much more overtly, biologically intertwined with their everyday lives, it would’ve been stupid for society not to accommodate for those changes. A morally grey area but he supposed it all depended on perspective. He just hoped that the curriculum didn’t solely focus on entertainment values and actually helped these kids safely learn more about themselves.

“I’m going to go train until my next shift. Make sure the mission is a big one! See ya!” She waved before leaving.

“Quite the spritely one,” Rosemary commented.

Sam nodded. “Ambitious to a fault but she has the talent and drive to back it up. Picked by Endeavor himself, actually.”

“We should get going now as well,” Rosemary added much to Tsuna’s relief. “Thank you for hosting us.”

Exchanging farewells, the three made their way to the exit.

Tsuna stretched, the sun caressing his skin. It felt nice especially since the queasiness quelled somewhat. He yawned, watching Rosemary scan the streets for their ride. Borage swayed from side to side next to her, looking at him as if he held the answer to the universe. He saw him taking a quick glance at Rosemary before taking a deep breath and—

“Cielo!” —he heard from behind him.

Tsuna turned his head towards the voice, seeing Sam running towards them.

“Ah! Cielo, please wait,” he said slightly out of breath.

He gave him a polite nod. “Yes?”

“Whew… First, I’d like to apologize for underestimating you. I must have seemed arrogant.” 

Tsuna signalled the two to go ahead of him as Rosemary gestured to one of the cars. “Don’t worry, it’s only natural. If I had protested otherwise, it would’ve been me who was the arrogant one.” It really would’ve been considering how wrong his analysis was.

“Even so, I am terribly sorry.” He bowed, before taking out a card and handing it to him.

Tsuna rose a brow. This wasn’t the number or contact information his agency had. “I was on the assumption any further contact would be through the agency?”

“Yes, for hero work. But the UHPPS doesn’t nearly have as much jurisdiction over personal matters. Usually, this number is exclusively used to contact our sidekicks and hero partnerships but Endeavor gave me the green light. I can’t exactly say what he wants but—" He held out his hand. "—I look forward to working with the Vongola Hero Network.”

“As do I with Endeavor Hero Agency,” Tsuna replied politely, shaking his hand, before leaving.

Walking towards the car he came in, Chervil noticed him first, giving him a two-fingered wave. He pushed himself off the hood of the car, tossing him a bottle of water. Bless him. Tsuna had to resist the urge to chug the entire thing down in one go, giving him a small nod of appreciation.

“Y’know the guys back at the office are going to go absolutely wild,” he said with a grin.

“I imagine so,” Tsuna sighed, closing the cap. “Before that, I’d like to stop at a hospital if possible.”

He furrowed his brows, scanning his eyes up and down to see if he had any injuries. “Did you get hurt?” he asked as they both got into the car. "We have emergency supplies in the trunk."

“Thought you said you were okay?” Borage piped up, concern weighing down his brows.

“The on-site doctor confirmed negative,” Rosemary said, looking away from her tablet, giving a curious glance at Tsuna.

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “A precautionary measure.”

They looked at him oddly but wordlessly nodded, heading towards the hero hospital.

In all of Shoto’s eight years of living on this earth, he had never seen his father lose to anyone in combat. To his knowledge, Endeavor was the strongest person alive.

That wasn’t a good thing.

“Strong” people were scary. “Strong” people hurt people. “Strong” people hurt him. “Strong” people hurt his mom.

People called All Might “strong” but Shoto couldn’t see that. He knew what they meant — that All Might was undefeated. But All Might was a hero. He was heroic. He could be heroic without being strong. Other heroes could be heroic too. He’d seen it when he overheard the news or saw the local heroes fighting a villain through the glass window of the car. Some heroes were strong too. But they were never as strong as his father.

People who were heroes without being strong were people he looked up to. People who were heroes for their strength alone were people he feared.

Shoto wanted to be a hero. Like All Might.

But he didn’t want to be like his father. He didn’t want to be strong to hurt his mom. But he had to be strong. Father said he had to be.

He was right.

He had to be strong because he wasn’t heroic. If he was, mom wouldn’t be so sick. If he was, his big brothers wouldn’t have left him. If he was, he wouldn’t have disappointed everyone. He disappointed his father for not being strong enough. He disappointed his mom for becoming strong. He hated it. He hated it. He hated himself.

Father said he was born blessed. Well, he lived cursed.

He didn’t understand it. What was he supposed to do? What was the right thing to do? What would make everyone happy? He didn’t want to upset anyone. But he also didn’t want his right side to become like his left. He didn’t want this— this parasite to consume him.

But he had to be strong.

So he had to be strong.

Like his father. Like Endeavor, the strongest person alive.

But then…

But then… How was it that his father wasn’t the one in the ring? How was it that his father wasn’t the one standing proudly? How was it that his father... lost?

This man who saved his big brother and sister? This man who didn’t feel scary?

This man. This weird man. This odd man.

This... enigma.

There was a thick glass wall separating them, but Shoto could still feel the warmth of the flames.

When he saw the brilliant expanse of orange fire bursting forth like the wings of a bird—

When he saw the man disappear only to reappear moments later—

When he saw the moment his father was thrown across the ring—

Shoto felt as if his chest was squeezing. Like his heart was both heavy as a stone and yet also drifting free like a balloon. No words came out of his mouth. He couldn’t even remember when he stood up. His legs were shaking. The hems of his shirt were scrunched and squeezed to death. He was shaking. Why was he shaking? Why did he feel everything but nothing at all?

Why was it that it felt like he was the one blown back by the impact of the punch?

Why was that fire still so vivid in his memories when he's seen bigger Quirks before?

Why was the colour orange still so visible in his eyes?

What was this feeling? What was he feeling?

Sorrow that his mom was going to be replaced? Anger that he had no choice? Awe that he saw his father lose? Happiness? Why happiness he didn’t know. Was it happiness? He really didn’t know... Fear? But he felt fear before. He knew fear. This didn’t exactly feel like fear. But something close to it? But not that close?

This weird, odd man was strong. But he wasn’t “strong”. Father was still stronger. He knew when his father held back. All of the Todorokis knew when he held back. But still, father was supposed to be the strongest — undefeated — next to All Might. But this man was strong too. Not like All Might was — not heroic. Not like how Endeavor was — not oppressive. If he wasn’t heroic and if he wasn’t strong, then what was he?

What was the existence of "Todoroki Shoto"?

Shoto sat stiffly on the plush seats in the car ride back home, sensations like touch becoming numbed and the world around him becoming muted. He stared blankly at the floor, unable to process what had happened today.

Tsuna yawned for the nth time today. He felt sluggish as he walked back towards the car — though he was trained enough not to show it — on his way back to the Vongola Network from the hospital. Thankfully nothing was wrong with him; no stomach acid or other fluids spilled out into the rest of his body. No little shards of bone accidentally fused into his organs either. Hooray! His Sun Flame training paid off! Still, the only thing wrong with him was the medical staff giving him the same highly concerned speech as the one at Endeavor’s agency.

He was taken in for a usual check-up (as usual as a person who fights for a living could get). He opted out of most questions and tests — medical records being highly valued as blackmail planted such paranoia in him. But it seemed he was lucky in his choice of hospitals because a few of the nurses and doctors had Quirks which could check different areas of the body without the need for a scalpel or days-long patience. He thought the medical system in this world was odd but by no means was he one to judge. He’s been under Shamal’s...well he wouldn’t say “care” than “coerced charge”. And as brilliant the man was in the medical field, he wasn’t exactly the poster child for friendly family doctors. That, and having Sun Flames really skewed his perception of what was medically possible and impossible — don't even get him started on Byakuran! It wasn’t like he visited civilian hospitals for injuries that often after all.

He had to imagine that these hero hospitals, which were only accessible to those registered within the Hero Association, cherry-picked their staff. It wasn’t unheard of even in normal hospitals or in the mafia. The medical bureaucracy was, in the simplest form, the tug of war between generating a profit and upholding the Hippocratic Oath. Quirks probably only added fuel to the flames.

I wonder if people born with a compatible Quirk in the medical world have a shortcut into the system… Makes sense but wouldn’t that create a prejudicial divide between those who have one and those that don’t? Or would they be considered heroes as well?

It was honestly so confusing to wrap around the career title of a “hero” and a “regular” job when heroes encompassed everything from civil servants to celebrity feuds. He supposed the only thing that divided the two categories was a license tying you to the Hero Association.

“Ugh… Thoughts for later,” Tsuna mentally groaned as he put on his seatbelt. He leaned against his seat, embracing the give of the cheap cushions. “Finally, I’ll get a bit of rest before we arrive—”

“AHHHHH!!! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!!”

—Christ!

His heart shot up to his throat. After shooting a worried glance at Borage, he groaned as he sank back in his seat. 

Chervil, apparently used to this, sighed and opted to ignore his outburst while Rosemary gave him a worn look.

“Borage, must you?” she said in an exasperated tone.

He rapidly shook his fists up and down, his mortal body just barely being able to contain in his exhilaration. “Be proud that I held myself back for this long, ‘mary!” He waved his hands around himself. “All this is normal—!”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is!” He swerved his head towards Tsuna. “Boss, do you realize you just won against the number two hero in all of Japan!?”

Tsuna let out an amused snort, closing his eyes. “It was only a regulated match. Neither of one of us was risking or using much.”

He looked at him oddly before the stars were caught in his eyes again. “Who cares! It isn’t like heroes go around fighting each other anyway—”

Oh yeah, forgot that wasn’t a normal thing. Damn mafia.

“You just defeated Endeavor! Endeavor! God, if we weren’t an underground hero agency, this would be all over the news—”

That sounded horrible.

“Can you imagine? God, I swear I’m trying to contain myself but boss you were just so amazing! I half expected to see a blur from last time but no! You were fast but— like— we saw you!" he whispered the last part as if he was unearthing a conspiracy. "I’ve never seen anyone get close to beating Endeavor! I mean, All Might could defeat him but that’s obvious. Your Quirk was stunning! It wasn't like Endeavor's overwhelming fire but so... unique? The way you shifted positions like that in the second round!? Your speed— My brain barely caught up with everything that happened! And at the end when you showed off your Quirks!? Man, Endeavor must be pissed! You got me in the first half not gonna lie but then ‘mary said that it was all a rouse—!"

"I did no such thing."

"—And God! How far did you plan for this!?”

Oh? Now, this was interesting. “Really?” Tsuna asked drowsily, keeping his eyes closed.

Rosemary stilled before giving him a levelling stare. “I’ve worked with Basil. Such things like intent are rarely ever hidden from me.”

“Rosemary’s Quirk is more than just cosmetics,” Chervil added in a jovial tone. “She can literally feel intention—”

“She basically has the vibe check Quirk,” Borage teased, receiving a flat stare from Rosemary.

“—that’s why our agency’s been doing so well!”

“Which includes the suppressing of it as well,” she added.

Oh shit.

Tsuna popped out of his sleepy haze, guilt heavily reflected in his eyes. “I apologize then for frightening you. You must’ve felt unpleasant for the past few days.”

Borage titled his head. “Wait. How badly did you want to—”

She shrugged. “No need for apologies, it’s just a biological response due to my Quirk. Because of Basil, I know how to differentiate maliciousness from…” She paused, trying to find the right word. “Irritation.”

"Huh… Basil isn’t one to get emotional so easily. I wonder what happened," he pondered as he settled back into the comfortable nook between the seat and the door.

“Okay, okay, okay." Borage enunciated each word with a clap. "As much as I love you and your awesome Quirk ‘mary, how are all of you just glossing over the fact that OUR BOSS JUST BEAT ENDEAVOR??? Am I the only one who’s freaking out about this!? Like I know we see fights but like this was OUR BOSS WHO JUST WON AGAINST—”

“We got it, we're all excited and all but quit pesterin' Cielo,” Chervil chided. “He’s goin’ to get more of that back at HQ. Let the man sleep.”

He winced. “Ah! Right… Sorry, I’ll be quiet now.” His leg still bounced in excitement. “Want us set an alarm—"

Tsuna shuffled around his pocket before tossing a startled Borage his phone, making a small noise at the back of his throat in affirmation as his mind drifted off.

—eep!

Beep!

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Tsuna groaned, shifting on the plush surface he was lying on, tucking in his body as if that would block the noise.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Good things never lasted long, did it?

Squinting, he patted his hand near the source of the noise, fumbling to grab his ringing phone. He made a few attempts to silence the phone before looking at the damn thing (with the brightness set way too high— ow) and sliding the icon to silence its screeching. Rubbing his eyes, the haze around his vision started to fade, seeing the familiar layout of his office. The lights were off and the door was closed for privacy, the light from the city diffusing through the large panes. He sat up and stayed there for a moment, slowly taking in the flush of soft yellow light mixing with the darkness in his office.

20:30

20:31

20:32

20:33

20:34

20:35

Stretching his arms and legs, he got up with a deep breath.

Welcome back, body aches from sleeping in a weird position.

He craned his neck, rubbing the sore spots in along his spine. He was equal parts embarrassed and thankful to whoever carried him up here without waking him up. When was the last time he was— could be carried without jerking awake from his hyper intuition going nuts? It must've been at least eight years or so ago in his early days as a don when he was still a naive little kid. Hell, it might've even been before he convinced Bermuda and the Vindice to take the mantle of the mafia's law enforcers again because, by the Lord, most of these mafiosos abused the hell out of their power. They were like rabid dogs unable to control themselves without a heavy muzzle.

He suppressed a shudder, fiddling with the grooves of his Oath Ring — that horrible, lawless year.

He took a deep breath, getting away from those memories. Anyways, the point was, life without imminent death looming over your shoulders did wonders for his head. Although that was at the expense of knowing that he, a grown man, one of the guardians of the Tri-Ni-Sette, the don to the most dangerous famiglia in multiple known universes, was carried up to his room like a tired child.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Come in," Tsuna said, straightening out his clothes and readjusting his tie.

"You're awake," Borage said, opening the door carrying a take-out bag and a file tucked under his arm. "You feeling a little better? Also, thought you might be hungry."

Rosemary was behind him, giving him a small nod as a greeting before returning to her tablet.

"As much as four hours is going to get. Thank you for setting the alarm for me by the way."

The two walked in as Borage set the file and bag down on the coffee table. "Speaking of, you should really put a password lock on your phone." He frowned, concern lacing his brows. "Not that I'm not flattered being trusted by you but what if you lost it, or worse, the media got it?"

Tsuna gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I'd get a replacement. Otherwise, I can enjoy seeing the media running in circles trying to decipher false information. What's that?"

"Drafts of potential tutoring contracts."

"Since our agency doesn't sponsor interns from hero schools, there are some details we need to iron out ourselves," Rosemary added.

"I'm guessing the contracts would usually be given by the ministry or board of education, correct?"

She shook her head. "Hero schools work a little differently from regular schools. The municipal and prefectural board of education checks and oversees the standard curriculum such as mathematics, yes, but due to the heavy overlap with the Hero Association's jurisdiction, besides general safety, standards maintenance, and record-keeping; the schools themselves are largely given free rein on how they operate. In other words, as long as it is legal and approved the principal, teachers can essentially create their own curriculum."

Now, Tsuna wasn't the best student neither in his civilian days nor under Reborn. But that wasn't— that shouldn't be how schools worked.

I'm beginning to see how much the blind faith in heroes affects this world...

She continued, "this includes the for-credit internship contracts, although most teachers opt to use their school's templates for convenience. UA, for example, largely uses the documents the principal wrote due to its beneficial clauses. Apparently, in their early years, some hero agencies tried to use the students for free menial labour instead of educating them."

UA... he's heard of its name a few times around the office and in Basil's report. Apparently it was the school for securing a future as a hero in the billboard.

Tsuna grabbed the file, shifting through the papers. "Home tutor and—" He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "—live-in home tutor..."

When they said, "the student becomes the master", he didn't think that phrase would be a curse.

"What's wrong?" Borage asked.

"I'd prefer just the home tutoring contract if possible," he replied as he leaned against his desk. He didn't know when exactly the transporter would be ready and staying at an employer's home in such uncertain times would be less than ideal. "I'm not sure when I'll have to return to Italy. My stay here in Japan was unplanned."

"Scheduling would be based off more so on what you and Endeavor agree to tomorrow," Rosemary said, "along with expectations, responsibilities, accommodation, etcetera. Ultimately, it'll be your decision, however, we recommend talking about both options since—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

She took out her phone, frowning. "Continue for me." She looked at Borage before she excused herself. 

He nodded and turned to look at him. “Based on time and convenience, the live-in tutoring session would be more beneficial. From our observations, he's a fairly private person so for a hero to be walking in and out of his house would be... less than ideal. For us as well. Although Endeavor has a good legal team, the media is a ravenous shark and you'd be a trail of blood leading them to their greatest catch.”

"That's a good point but we haven't given them any reason to—"

THUD!

“Cielo," Rosemary suddenly interrupted with a dark look. "We have a problem.”

Murphy’s Law, go fuck yourself. “What’s the issue?”

She raked her hair back, her mouth forming a rare scowl. “Hero Exposure. The media. The media got a picture of you and Endeavor together.”

Oh no... that's what that was.

“What!?” Borage cried out. “I thought they were caught before they could do anything! Didn’t the UHPPS confiscate their memory card or something!?”

She crossed her arms, making her way to them. “Apparently not fast enough. One of them managed to send one semi-recognizable photo before they got him. They apparently didn't use their camera, but their phone instead.”

"That's... a choice."

Reborn is going to kill me.

Tsuna rubbed his temples. He knew going in for that second round was going to bite him in the ass later! He really had to break the habit of pushing his problems for future-Tsuna because quite frankly, future-Tsuna was fed up dealing with past-Tsuna’s horrible decisions.

“Please say that it wasn't during the fight.”

Why couldn’t he have strong inhibitors when he was tired?

“Thankfully, no. And you move quicker than you think. It’s after — when you were talking to him. The image isn't the best quality but if the person in question had ever seen you before, you'd be recognizable. The other photos that they managed to send were too blurry and unrecognizable to count for anything. I'm guessing that they panicked and sent whatever they could when Burin came in.”

Thank God. He didn’t want the press hounding him for answers as to how he was able to beat the number two hero — even in a regulated match.

"But—" He spoke too soon. "—it does contain you using your Quirks."

Dannazione!

“At least there isn’t evidence of the fight," he said, reassuring himself more than anything. "It’ll be hard to prove that some no-name hero could defeat the number two in any capacity.”

“Still, being in a shot with Endeavor without being a villain is a story in itself. I suspect about a week’s worth of active sleuthing by the media until the news dies down. Another week, if not more, for Hero Exposure since one of their journalists saw you — unless something bigger pops up.”

He wanted to strangle his past self so much. He just had to show off, didn't he!

Borage sucked in a breath through his teeth, wincing, as he saw the photo. "Sorry to say but might be more. Dual complimentary Quirks are rare."

Could the void consume him right about now? Please? Just take his mortal body and let his soul seep into the astral plane?

"But man, how is this taken from a professional journalist?" Borage muttered with a scrutinizing squint. "Even I can take a better picture than this."

"Apparently journalism doesn't come prepackaged with the lack of acrophobia," Rosemary answered.

"Then it comes with annoying amounts of determination— damn."

“And the UHPPS?” Tsuna asked as if he wasn't already mentally writing his own obituary.

“They’ll help intercept sensitive information and bury the story. Unfortunately the UHPPS, in the context of the contract, is here more so to stop limelight heroes from abusing their popularity than it is to protect underground heroes from the media. They’ll certainly help—”

“That’s what we pay them for,” Borage piped in.

“—but our security and business department handles the brunt of the work.”

“Aren’t they afraid of getting sued? I imagine that such a small publishing company doesn’t have much funding.”

She shook her head. “Normally, yes. But Hero Exposure and its many iterations have been known for filing for bankruptcy, closing, reopening with a different name, selling their brand, passing ownership, and using many other legal loopholes we can’t permanently rid them for. Not only that, but they usually cite their sources under "citizen's report" so there isn't much the police can do to the journalists besides breaking and entering charges, if applicable. They don’t do enough damage to warrant the UHPPS using their time and effort to completely stop them over other more pressing matters. It’s like—”

“Trimming the weed instead of uprooting it completely.”

She nodded.

Tsuna sighed, his whole chest giving out. This is why he hated getting into the business side of things — which was admittedly the hardest and most prevalent part of his life. In this and the mafia. Oh, sure he can XX-Burner the bad guys but what happens to the innocent civilians they used by putting up a legal front? The people they had working for them for less than the value of their work? The ones they coerced? The ones who relied on this system because it was the lesser of two evils? He learned early on that he couldn't just start blasting corrupt dons without making contingencies.

And don’t even get him started on the olive oil side of the mafia! Seriously, even Nono didn’t do much to help that due to the sheer volume of profits, cultural ties, and bureaucracy involved. Exploitation and the mafia went hand-in-hand. And although Tsuna didn’t want to dislike Nono, he couldn’t help but disapprove of the many decisions he went through with as he grew up. There were so many consequences — both good and bad — he had to consider for the maximum benefit of both sides. It’s mostly thanks to his Hyper Intuition and the Bovino famiglia’s ten-year-bazooka that nothing drastic happened as a consequence! Not only that but how is it so difficult to understand that deceiving the commercial markets endangers the public — civilians! Civilians! Like, do you have allergies? Oh, you checked the label? Cold-pressed? Well, too bad! It doesn’t matter what the label says, it’s most likely a blend! Seriously, people are going to get anaphylactic shock—!

I’m getting sidetracked.

The universe must've hated him because they just put another tick in favour of the live-in tutor scenario. One small rumour was bad but with enough time, the seed could be forgotten into obscurity. But if he was seen coming in and out of the number two hero's house, that seed would grow into a vine too hard to untangle. He and Basil got away with being in a whole different universe because their agency was so obscure. Suspicion brought forth doubt and investigation. Light would be shed on the long "absences" and lies. And he knew first-hand how one good journalist could trace the cracks to its source and unearth the truth — that would not only endanger themselves but also the people of this agency.

"Looks like I'll probably be following in Reborn's footsteps..." he thought with dread.

He crossed his arms, distracting himself by looking over the tutoring contracts in front of him. It wasn't a healthy way to run away from his problems. Shut up me, leave me to seeth.

He clicked his tongue. No wonder Reborn skipped most of the formalities, tutoring contracts were a pain to make. Most of this I'll have to discuss with Endeavor himself.

"Boss, you going to be okay?" Borage asked slowly, handing him a cup of black coffee. Good, he needed something more bitter than himself right now.

Tsuna nodded in thanks, laying the papers down. "I'll handle it."

"Should we tell Endeavor to reschedule?" Rosemary asked. "Perhaps move the meeting online?"

Tsuna desperately wished for that latter option but he had to imagine that the legacy-obsessed man wouldn't take rescheduling an already rescheduled meeting too kindly.

"No," he said releasing a sigh. "It'd be more work than the alternative. So like you said, in the meantime, just staying low should be enough.”

Oh, when would Tsuna learn that he shouldn’t say such things out loud into the universe?

Chapter Text

One day you’re fighting and punching your future employer into the wall and the next you’re sitting in his office laying out the tutoring contracts for his son.

Finally! Some normalcy for once in this wacky weird world!

Tsuna was noticeably in a better mood after two shots of espresso and a night’s rest with only one short on-call before the meeting. This shift in mood was definitely welcomed by Rosemary, giving him a curious but amused glance before he left the agency.

Now, he sat with his legs crossed on the large plush chair, enjoying his second cup of coffee as Endeavor looked over the contracts. He filled out most of the obvious papers: allergies, medical issues, and other such topics in that vein. Few minutes passed and Endeavor placed the pen down, giving Tsuna back the document. As he scanned through the papers, he could feel the other man’s stare boring into him.

“Is there a problem?” Tsuna asked instead of saying, “don’t ruin my vibe”.

He merely closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back on his chair and giving him a look that was equal parts pleased and his usual resting bitch face. “I didn’t expect such detail.”

Tsuna had to hide a snort. Of course, he was prepared. Not only was his agency amazing, but he also researched the hell out of private tutoring himself so he didn’t make some foolish mistake. After all, he was going into the same "career" as his own mentor and that hypocrite of man would sooner shoot him in the leg if he desecrated the reputation of their shared profession.

He chuckled softly. “Forgive my ignorance on the subject, I tend to over-prepare in unfamiliar territories. In truth, this is my first time being requested for such a teaching position, much less a Quirk specialist home tutor. So, I’d like to ask a few questions for clarification to plan accordingly.”

Endeavor motioned to continue.

“Am I expected to prepare any lessons, tests, or homework written or otherwise in advance?” he asked as reached for the pen.

“If it helps him get stronger, I don’t care what method you choose.”

Poor choice of words to a mafia don taught by Reborn himself. Thankfully, he wasn’t the exploitive type.

“For evaluations, how frequently would you like updates on your son’s progress? Any power — Quirks or otherwise — are as much of a mental test as it is physical so I’d imagine that progress would be slow at first.”

“At the end of every week. If I’m not present then a report will suffice.”

He twirled the pen in his hand, eyes still trained on the papers. “Yes, I’d imagine being the number two hero is time-consuming. Does he have any specific learning needs? Physical limitations from his Quirk—?”

“He was born to have no such weaknesses,” Endeavor growled with such unexpected intensity that Tsuna looked up for a second.

Is this about Natsuo and Fuyumi? Something told him that wasn’t quite it.

Tsuna nodded slowly. “Alright.” Touchy subject, I see. “On that topic, what are the learning goals and expectations you have for Shoto and myself?”

“I want him to learn how to balance both of his Quirks and become stronger.”

A little vague but I can work with that. “How does his Quirk work? Are there any specific conditions he has to meet to activate it? I assume he has an emitter-type Quirk such as yourself.”

He nodded. “No special conditions but the boy can’t activate his Quirk properly.”

“Please, do tell.”

“He’s imbalanced, weak. Too much or too little power on one side or the other.” He crossed his arms. “Already eight and being unable to control his own Quirks at the most basic level is an embarrassment.”

The grip on his pen got tighter. He understood being concerned for your child’s development but the phrasing made him glad for his past sleep-deprived self’s actions for once.

He’s heard about "four" being the age where children are determined to be Quirkless or not — subsequently, the age where most kids learn how to use the fundamental abilities of their Quirk(s). He’s heard of the great Quirkless disparity and controversy before. At this point, being born Quirkless in this day and age was all but legally defined as a disability. Children with Quirks were also unable to escape that number it seems.

Then, how sad it was for what the number four 四, 死 (sǐ), represented.

“Do you happen to know the reason?”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

“His mother coddled him too much. Such a delicate time for children and yet his potential was squandered for far too long.”

Jesus Christ, at this point he didn’t know if he was becoming a tutor or a mediary for their family drama.

“We’ll see,” Tsuna replied neutrally.

It was probably smarter not to ask Endeavor about family matters or of his family’s mental state outright.

Hm… Then I wonder if emitter-type Quirks are influenced by emotion since it’s a part of your body...

“I’ll see what I can do to bring out the best in him safely,” Tsuna emphasized. “Next, what of my hero duties? I may be absent a few times. Of course, it goes without saying that I’m not expecting to be paid for those hours.”

“At the beck and call of the UHPPS?”

Tsuna let out an amused breath. “Such is the hero system.”

“That’s fine but I expect you to put my son’s education at the top of your priority.”

“That goes without saying,” Tsuna replied as he wrote the information down. “I’ll be upfront with you Endeavor, I’m not sure how long I can stay in Japan — it’ll only be a month longer at most. My call here was coincidental as I was working on a mission back in Italy.”

“I suspected as much,” he replied, his displeasure tempered by acceptance. “No matter. I’ll hire you for as long as you can stay. However, I do expect progress.”

Tsuna nodded, barely looking up from his paper, his brain not even registering such mild threats and/or warnings as anything geuine — not anymore at least.

“Now, I think it’s time to discuss the type of tutoring I can provide. I don’t mean in terms of Quirks but in terms of transportation and living space. We’ve outlined two scenarios. One is a standard Quirk Specialist Home Tutor contract. We can discuss the time frame later. The second, a live-in version of the same contract.

“My agency has advised me to do the latter since the security breach. No matter how sneaky I may be, unless you know someone with a teleportation or cloaking Quirk, for instance, the media will catch on to our agreement. I assume you are as adverse to the idea of the media meddling in as I. So for time and efficiency’s sake we recommend this option, however, I’ll ultimately leave that decision to you and your son.”

Endeavor raised a brow. Surprised by the proposal. He wouldn’t have thought that underground heroes would’ve offered such an option. Then again, underground heroes were outliers in every sense of the word. And what he said made did hold some merit.

“I was thinking something similar. Considering your odd schedule, I want you to teach him as much as possible. I can provide accommodations such as basic amenities and shelter.”

“How generous, I appreciate it.”

The rest of the morning went by faster than Tsuna had expected. Endeavor seemed to genuinely think about what he wanted for the youngest and most prized Todoroki even if that came with overbearing standards. Despite the culture, Shoto didn’t have after-school tutoring. No, he just went to school, came back home, and trained with his father whenever he could. Considering how the boy reacted yesterday, and from experience between him and his own father, Tsuna could practically feel the discomfort itching below his skin at such a lifestyle.

They discussed working hours and as expected, or experienced, Tsuna was acting like Shoto’s guardian as well. Although much more tempered, it seemed like the unwavering trust in heroes was still evident in high-ranking heroes like Endevor. Endeavor had gotten busier and couldn’t always train with his son and so delegated that task to Tsuna. Now, he didn’t know what Shoto wanted as of yet but he wasn’t going to fight an eight-year-old. Heaven forbid, he became a second Reborn — this whole situation already felt too close for comfort. Not that he told Endeavor any of this of course. If his theory held true, then training would consist more of working on his mental fortitude. If not, well, that report at the end of the week was going to be a very interesting read. 

Being a father aside, Endeavor was actually a fair business partner. His pay, although Tsuna had to estimate what a “good” salary was considered in this world, was well above what he and his agency would’ve guessed. His accommodations were generous too. Now, Tsuna was no fool. Although he wasn’t a businessman, per se, he still had experience running a legitimate business… front. It wasn’t uncommon, most mafiosos did as such. From the dairy industry to nightlife — even the government wasn’t free of its influence. Some were just more careful to hide it than others.

And to be honest, the mafia, at least in his universe, wasn’t some big secret. It didn’t reach civilian ears all that much but on the political and economic side of things, the deeper you dug, the more roots of intertwined dealings were seen. It was more so that the overt actions of feuding famiglias and the knowledge of Flames that were strictly confined to the Vindice's Omertà.

When it came to the business side of the mafia, it was almost like meeting with a fae. Do not reject kindness or gifts, do not owe others favours or try to vie for it, and be respectful and grateful but not to the point of diluting the other’s actions. Of course, people still tried to take advantage of one another but anyone with a brain cell would know that the higher up the mafia chain, the less “human” you would become. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing or a matter of morality but more so a matter of needs and desires. Take the Vongola Guardians for example, they didn’t need more power; their strength was already inhuman. 

This was something he learned through Mammon of all people. In his younger days, although he wasn’t the greedy sort, having wealth was good. Why wouldn’t it be? With money, you can save lives, stop horrible people. But one thing Tsuna never wanted to do was swindle his family, friends, or good people. So when he rejected Dino’s monetary assistance out of brotherly love, the man was actually more upset. Thankfully, Dino was the understanding sort and had known him for a long time. Tsuna, back then, was confused when Dino said to just "accept the gift out of respect." It wasn’t until a visit to the Varia estate that Mammon taught him a lesson:

In the upper echelons, money wasn’t considered for its monetary value; it was a representation of pride, status, emotion, determination, conviction, identity, and loyalty. Although the Mist Acrobaleno would protest otherwise as that sentiment wasn’t something they personally believed in. In fact, they actually demanded payment for teaching him the lesson immediately afterwards.

So Tsuna knew rejecting Endeavor’s generosity would’ve been seen as an insult to the value of his son — even if he didn’t want to depend on others any more than he had to.

“Alright. I’ll compile the finished draft by today and then we can sign off on it tomorrow. I’ll have my agency send you the appropriate invoices as well. When would you like me to start?”

“Tomorrow.”

Tsuna almost spat out his third cup of coffee. This was supposed to be the vacation universe, damn it!

”I need time to observe my student before we start anything. Not only that but considering the live-in element, the absolute earliest would be the day after. You told me the rules of your home but I'd imagine you don’t want a guest to accidentally wander into a random part of the house.”

Endeavor grumbled, his excitement over the prospect of furthering Shoto’s talent clouding his judgement. “Fine then.”

After organizing the contract, Tsuna stood up, picking up his hat, following Sam out of the office.

It wasn’t often Tsuna could make time out of his day to go on walks, much less take a stroll down civilian areas. If not for his duties as a don, a Vongola don at that, it was for the safety of himself and the people around regardless of involvement. He was a wanted man, the white lion in a hunter's arena, and despite the Vendice’s interference, or the binding oath of the Omertà, some bastards would sooner risk hundreds of civilian lives than see him breathe for another second. Look, he was under the philosophy of if you wanted to kill him, that was fair, but don’t go after his family, the uninvolved, or innocents.

A fucked up way of living, for sure, but his life and all of its accompanying glory desensitized him to his own mortality. It was honestly easier that way. Besides, he was a Vongola — time became more and more of a concept than a limitation. Hell, he’s even met Vongola Quindicesimo briefly so he knew, at the very least, the future of the famiglia was secured. Not that he cared about continuing the legacy — Primo himself told him to do whatever he wished with the Vongola.

Speaking of, sometimes Tsuna couldn’t help but wonder how much the piece of him etched into the ring would change after some time. Primo seemed to be quite different from his original self, the man, Giotto, after all. Not that Tsuna blamed him. Seeing the militant faction of the Vongola triumph for generations without being able to act must’ve slowly killed him — especially when such atrocities were committed by his own blood.

Anyways, on the very rare occasions he did go out for simple pleasure, he was accompanied by Hayato and Takeshi, the two insisting that he shouldn’t leave without at least the other accompanying to protect him. While he appreciated his friends’ sentiments and company, even he wanted some time alone. The most he got to being “alone” was when Chrome would shadow him using her Mist Flames. Again, he really appreciated her sincerity but with his hyper intuition, she was as present as any other.

So when Chervil messaged him, Tsuna declined his offer for a ride back. He wanted to walk around, stretch his legs and take in the serenity of civilian life. He could feel a pleased purr from Natsu from inside his box, urging him to hurry up and let him out.

Just a little while longer Natsu, we’re in public.

It would take some time to walk back but he got the okay from Rosemary to relax — bless her heart. She even told him about a nice, quiet park in the area. Besides he had his hero license now! No more awkward police questioning! Or the need to disguise himself considering his attire was tame in comparison to most heroes. Well, for the most part. He wasn't wearing his “hero costume” at the moment, deciding it was safer to blend in as a journalist trying to fish for information. Coupled with a cheap messenger bag hanging from his hips, if he hid his eyes and changed his walk, his silhouette was forgettable and unassuming.

The city scenery was no Venetian cathedral but all things considered, Musutafu City was just as interesting. Even if it wasn’t his universe, humans didn’t change much in his opinion. Despite all hardships and evils, there were many people who wanted to protect others. So it made him smile when he saw people just milling about, minding their own business, doing their own thing. Even back at the Todoroki’s summer home, as much as he loved keeping Natsuo company, and he really did if just to make him happy, he couldn’t explore his surroundings. The day was rather peaceful; a reminder of what he sought to protect without having to think too hard about the blood pooling beneath his feet.

Tsuna didn’t know when he developed such an elderly hobby, but simply observing the day-to-day lives of people was therapeutic to him. Or perhaps he got that trait from Giotto? Although his ancestor held more love for civilian lives than even he did. Not that he didn't care but Giotto was just, as Ryohei put it, an extremely righteous man.

“Wait up! C’mon!”

“Lemme see! Lemme see!”

“I wanna hold it! Pleaseeee!”

He couldn’t help but smile when a blur of children rushed past him, excited over who got the “plus ultra holographic All Might trading card”, climbing over themselves to get a better look.

Speaking of, that man truly was something. Although the aesthetical side of him protested otherwise, he would love to meet the man. Becoming a world symbol where you were known by everyone capable of thought was no easy feat — impossible even — that required a consistent balance of both power to carry such a burden and an ideal people could sympathize with. And considering his reputation, he seemed like a good man.

Tsuna stopped in front of a little stationery store tucked in between a cafe and a bakery with cute characters and pictures of heroes decorating every inch of the display. He hummed, remembering how uncomfortable Shoto looked, before entering the store, a small ding! announcing his entrance.

It wouldn’t hurt to bring a gift.

He browsed their selection, biting his lips so as not to laugh when he saw the sheer ridiculousness of some pro hero's costume as not to seem crazy. He really didn’t want to judge but when a person’s outfit was made of fire, jeans, or bandages (over shoes and gloves, what!?) there was no way you couldn’t!

Browsing the selection, his eyes stumbled upon a large, boisterous display taking up about a quarter of the store's inventory.

Oh, Natsuo would love this.

He picked up a little plastic bag containing novelty erasers that could detach some pieces like a puzzle. There were a couple of sets: puzzle cubes, animals, miniature food but Tsuna went with a set of twenty animal ones seeing that there was an orange lion in the assortment. He grabbed a Rubik's cube too. Natsuo was a bright, curious boy and he seemed to love problem-solving and games. He also picked up a few multi-coloured pens with various All Might cap designs at the end. If he were honest, he wasn’t too fond of the idea of buying merchandise with real people’s faces on it, nor was the idea of him doing that appealing — too creepy for his liking. But apparently, this was all too normal in this universe from the sheer number of products dedicated to heroes.

Hm... I should get something for Fuyumi as well. It didn't feel right to him if she were to be left out.

The only issue was that picking out a gift for a teenager was infinitely harder than picking one out for a kid. Tastes changed regularly and in this weird universe, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what teenagers liked. He traced his memory trying to see if there was anything he got for Chrome, Kyoko, Haru, Yuni, or I-pin that seemed universally liked. Then, he remembered a time asking Haru and Kyoko what they liked to have as gifts, when they were teenagers, a couple of years back.

“For I-pin’s birthday?” they asked him.

Tsuna nodded, hoping the girls could give him an answer before he died from anxiety. He barely knew what to give a girl when he was a teenager, much less now as a grown man!

Haru, being heavily into design and tailoring, said she always appreciated fabrics, embroideries, and other such crafting materials. Kyoko replied with the “Necronomicon” in which Tsuna simply replied, “we have Mukuro”. All joking aside (although he later found out she actually did want a copy) Kyoko expressed her love of cute but practical stationery: washi tapes, novelty pens, notebooks, bookmarks, sticky notes in the shape of cats, the list went on as the girls bounced ideas off  of each other with more things they liked.

Although the gift he later got for I-pin was vastly different than their suggestions (he really should’ve gone to Fon first), Tsuna later bought them those things for their respective birthdays.

I’m pretty sure she said she wanted to become a teacher...

He saw some regular (as compared to the former examples) stationary nestled in between the hero merchandise (and by God, there was a lot of it). He picked up a set of colourful gel pens, erasable highlighters, a box of metal bookmark clips, and a pack of sticky notes shaped like fluffy dogs and cats. If she were to pursue a career in education, then it was likely that she was going to enrol in post-secondary education and later, in teacher’s college.

From what Shoichi and Byakuran told him of their college days, organization was key in surviving through post-secondary education. Tsuna was admittedly a little jealous considering they had time, or at least had time in a couple of different alternate realities, where they could live as normal civilians. Considering that Tsuna became Decimo after graduating high school and subsequently had private tutors to educate him on topics more situated to mafia life such as business or politics, he missed being a “normal” person. Although from what they told him — the long waiting list, the stress of exams, shitty professors, cramming essays and projects they didn’t care about but needed the credit for at the last minute — maybe he didn’t miss out on much.

Now, I wonder what Shoto would like...

Tsuna crossed his arms, thankful that the store was relatively empty save for the cashier and a couple of children spending their money on gachas outside. It took longer to pick out a gift for the youngest Todoroki. He didn’t know much about the boy’s hobbies or interests after all. At most, he knew that Shoto was wary of him which was something he hoped he could prove otherwise.

Hero merchandise? All Might maybe? Everyone seems to like him — Is that Endeavor in the bargin bin? — But I don’t even know if he likes heroes in general. Well, when in doubt...

He picked up a mechanical pencil in the shape of a number two pencil and various cat-themed stationary. From his experience the only people who venomously hated cats were psychopaths. He picked up one more All Might-themed pen just in case.

He also picked up a pack of origami paper along the way. Natsuo was the type to be good with his hands so perhaps Shoto would be too?

Placing all his items in the tiny metal basket, he went and paid for it, not even bothering to look at the total. As much as his past self would've been scandalized, being a mafia don for a better part of a decade meant that his threshold of considering things as “expensive” varied drastically. Endeavor’s first payroll alone would cover the cost ten times over. Besides, buying gifts for people he liked? Well worth it.

“Graaooo,” Natsu yawned.

He stretched, his tail extending before swishing back and forth in content. His ears flicked at the sound of plastic rustling against the messenger bag, the smell of coffee and baked goods wafting off it. He curled up against the base of the tree and his partner in an isolated part of the park, purring as Tsuna scratched under his chin. His partner was currently scrolling through his phone, looking through his emails, still at work despite the beautiful, non-intrusive day.

This was a great world. There were no Vendice or mafia to look out for or to be wary of. His existence, the fact that he was considered an animal with a Quirk, was rare but not improbable so he could theoretically wander around without arousing too much suspicion. The only thing stopping him was his partner and the media — not that Natsu had much of a concept of what they were except for “being caught was bad and may bring danger to others”. Of course, he didn’t want that but alas, ultimately he was a Sky lion indifferent to silly humans and their silly human problems.

He chuffed and pressed his snout into Tsuna’s chest, gaining his attention.

“Enjoying yourself?” Tsuna asked with an amused smile.

Natsu rubbed his head against him, his paws kneading the plentiful grass under him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Tsuna’s lips momentarily curled downwards, thinking of how nice it would’ve been if his friends were here as well.

A couple of minutes passed before Tsuna tucked away his phone, standing up to stretch — much to the displeasure of Natsu.

“Don’t give me that look, we’ll be right back.”

He whined.

“Some of us are only mortal and aren’t immune to germs,” Tsuna retorted. “Come on, five minutes. The restroom isn’t far.”

Natsu stared at him flatly, spreading out on his side with a huff like whiny husky, before looking away in defiance.

Tunsa crossed his arms. “And what will you do if someone sees you?”

His tail stilled for a moment. Then, he slowly got up and started to dig.

“No!” Tsuna quickly tucked his hands under his forelimbs and pulled him up, his face and paws muddied with chunks dirt and clumps of grass. “We are not intentionally destroying public property again!”

Natsu squirmed, wiggling, trying to curl in his body so his back legs could hit Tsuna’s arms — which while admittedly was cute, wasn’t what he needed right now.

Where did Natsu learn to become so bratty and chaotic? Oh yeah… from me.

He sighed as Natsu stopped wiggling, knowing that he had won.

“Fine. But stay within the leaves,” he said as he lifted Natsu up to one of the denser trees.  “You’re not the one who has to deal with the fallout.”

“Gao!”

It didn’t take long to find the public restroom. Shifting his bag so it was behind him, he rolled up his sleeves, cool water running down his hands. It was easier when he didn’t have his rings on since he didn’t have to wash each of them individually afterwards. Currently, they were nestled beneath his shirt, hanging from his Mammon chain looped around his neck.

He shook his hands to expel excess water, taking a sheet of the paper towel hanging on the wall. He walked towards the vanity off to the side to readjust his tie and make sure his disguise was still pristine.

“Hold on! I need to wash my hands!” he heard a child yell as he came in. He seemed to be around Shoto’s age.

“Hurry up, slowpoke!” He heard some boys yell outside. “If you don’t come in ten seconds, we’re leaving you!”

“Yeah! Our hero agency doesn’t need slowpokes!”

“W—Wait!” The boy scrambled to pull the step stool from below the counter.

“One—!”

“AHHH!” the boy fumbled up the step, shooting his hands out.

“Two—! Three—! Ten!”

He heard the boys laugh and run away, leaving the boy nearly— no, completely reduced to tears. He wiped his face in his arms and began muttering to himself, the water drowning out his voice.

After a moment of contemplation, Tsuna awkwardly albeit softly asked, “Are you okay?”

The boy jumped, eyes blown wide, looking at him as if he just appeared out of thin air.

“Y—Yes! I wasn’t c—crying!” he stuttered, stumbling over words. He sniffed. “Heroes don’t cry. I wasn’t crying...”

Tsuna wanted to say, “yes they do.” But there was a time and place for such advice and it wasn’t now.

“Okay, you weren’t crying,” Tsuna consoled. “I believe you.”

Besides the atmosphere being incredibly awkward, Tsuna looked at the boy’s dejected face from the corner of his eyes, the terrible memories of his youth resurfacing. He didn’t want to leave a sad child behind but he wasn't sure if a strange man consoling him would be of any use. So he quietly made his way out, trying not to pressure the boy with his presence. But then—

“I am here, I am here,” he heard the boy sing under his breath. “All villains beware because I am here. Straightforward the mighty goes—” His voice rose in volume. “—into the lair to fight foes! I am here, I am here, all villains beware because I am here!”

Then he bellowed in laughter trying to imitate a voice obviously too deep for him. In which, Tsuna, coupled with the dramatic shift in tension, let out a strangled wheeze.

Hey, at least the kid bounced back fast.

“I am here” where have I heard that before? Tsuna hummed before a light went off in his head. Perhaps he could help after all.

He opened the latch and shuffled around his bag, taking out one of the All Might-themed pens with the words, “I am here!” written on it on the side. Just as he closed the bag, the boy came out, startled that the man was still here.

“Hey, I liked your song,” Tsuna said, making sure he gave the boy enough space as he kneeled to his level. “Was that about All Might?”

Suddenly the boy’s eyes lit up as if it caught all the stars in the multiverse. “Yeah! It’s the song for All Might: The Symbol of Peace! It’s my favourite cartoon in the whole world! And he’s my favourite hero!”

A little more enthusiasm than he expected but he’s glad the boy was feeling a lot better.

He continued, “this morning, there was a villain about to destroy a HUGE—" He stretched out his arms towards the sky, standing on his toes. “—building and then All Might came in and then in one DETROIT SMASH! He took the villain down!”

Considering what he’s heard about the man’s power and seen from recordings, Tsuna wasn’t sure if the boy was talking about the cartoon or the real person.

“Really!” Tsuna said, trying to match his enthusiasm. “You must be his biggest fan!”

He nodded wildly. “Yeah! I love All Might, he’s so cool! I want to be just like him! I— I want to be a hero,” he said with monetary hesitation.

“I see. Well, maybe you can help me then?” Tsuna revealed the pen in his hands, the boy’s eyes locking to the object immediately. “I bought this pen but apparently I already had one! So I was wondering if you could take it off my hands?”

He sucked in a breath. “Really!?” He nodded. “Woooow!” he squealed as he held it in his hands. “Thank you, mister!”

Tsuna chuckled, seeing the boy press each of the colours and every time he clicked, the small figure of the hero on the cap flexed his arms up and down.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He nodded as his gaze wandered towards the trees. Natsu must be bored, I should hurry.

Before he turned to leave, he felt a tug at his pants.

“Mister?” the boy said.

“Hm?”

He looked away in shame, fidgeting with knobs. “I’m sorry I lied. I did cry. Everyone says I cry a lot. Thank you for the pen.”

What an honest child! Seriously, were all non-mafioso children this sweet?

“No problem, do you know where your friends went?”

He nodded. “The others are probably out hero-ing. Oh! But there’s a place where a lot of people don’t go here.”

Oh… Oh no… He did not like where this was going.

“It’s our hero base!”

Oh no, his hyper intuition was tingling.

“Over there! That’s our agency!” He pointed towards the area Natsu was supposed to be hiding.

Ah fuck.

Ah FUCK.

He knew leaving Natsu out in the open was a bad idea. He knew that. Natsu knew that. Both of them knew that. But it seemed safe so Tsuna allowed it. Natsu deserved it and who in their right mind would look up at random trees in an isolated part of the park?

At this point, what was the point of a disguise when the chaotic-neutral forces of the world made him into their plaything?

Tsuna slowly turned his head towards Natsu as if he was looking into the camera in The Office. Currently, said lion was cowering behind leaves and branches as if to assimilate himself into the bark, away from the screaming child.

“Oi! OI!” The aggressive boy yelled, shaking the tree. “Get over here you stupid cat!”

“Kacchan!” the boy who came with him yelled.

“You’re so slow Deku,” his friend said flatly. His red eyes pierced Tsuna, sneering. “Why'd you bring an adult here?”

Before he could answer, Natsu leapt out of his “hiding” spot and into Tsuna’s arms where he buried his head into the crook of his neck. Tsuna could only mentally sigh, his arms supporting the weight of the lion. At least Natsu’s instinct wasn’t to return to his box. He imagined explaining that an animal having a Quirk was easier to explain than the alternative.

The two children approached him, eyes trained on Natsu.

“Woah…" he muttered, his large doe eyes twinkling in excitement. "I never saw an animal with a Quirk before!”

“I want one!” the other demanded. “Where do I get that?”

“Are you a hero?”

“What’s your Quirk?”

“What’s your name?”

“How come your face hasn’t melted off yet?”

“Can I have your autograph?”

Tsuna slowly backed away from the two assertively approaching children, Natsu curling in tighter against him. “I’m afraid he’s my one-of-a-kind partner. He has a very special type of fire that doesn’t burn people,” Tsuna explained in the simplest way possible seeing as the eagerness on these kids’ faces wouldn’t let him go so easily. “Yes, I’m a hero. But I’m an underground hero so you can’t tell anyone about my Qu— my partner’s Quirk, okay?”

The boy who came with him tilted his head. “What’s an underground hero?”

“They’re the extras that support real heroes like All Might,” he informed with pride in his voice that rivalled Squalo.

Okay, a little harsh but not entirely wrong.

“Ohh…" He clapped. "So like a spy?”

Sure, let’s go with that. “Yep, and I can’t have such information known by villains.”

“Are you that weak or something?”

Sure, let’s go with that. “Compared to All Might, probably.”

“Well, duh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “No one can beat All Might. He’s number one! C’mon Deku. Let’s go find the other extras.”

He looked torn between asking more questions or to leave with his friend, ultimately picking the latter. “Bye-bye Mr. Underground Hero! Thank you for the pen!”

The two left, the latter giving him a large wave.

Once they were out of his sight, he turned his attention towards the harbinger of chaos in his arms.

“I swear if you tell Reborn or Leon any of this, I’m leaving you with Bester when we get back for a whole week.”

Natsu whined, returning to his box.

Truly, both of them shared more than just their Flames, but brain cells as well.

Chapter Text

Sawada Tsunayoshi was the tenth head of the Vongola, commanded hundreds of men in the heat of battle and led a bloody Famiglia into washing some of its sins off their gilded crest. And if one asked, of course, he was nervous throughout it all. Doubts rang in his skull and rattled his brain with the heavy burden of the living and the dead cuffed around his wrists. With a single word, he could be responsible for hundreds of deaths and thousands of lives. But he learned to get used to it for his and his family’s survival.

But right now, the mafia seemed so far away when his heart hammered his chest erratically at the sight in front of him: a simple nameplate entitled, Todoroki.

He was in charge of nurturing a child.

He was a teacher now.

Oh God, I’m a teacher now.

This wasn’t exactly where he thought he would get in life but hey, being a mafia boss wasn’t in his top three dream jobs either.

The little nameplate triggered a thousand whispering demons in his head, his mind whirling with increasingly exaggerated ways to fuck it all up. What if he was too strict? Too lenient? Irresponsible? Fuck, what if Shoto picked up on his bad habits? He had the potential to ruin this child’s development if he wasn’t careful.

Or worse, he became like his own father?

Okay, admittedly, that was a rather irrational fear of his since Iemitsu literally clocked him in the face once. Granted, it was during the Representative Battle of the Rainbow but the point still stands. It was hard to be worse than that.

But still, he had heard horror stories of sons exhibiting some of their father's traits subconsciously despite their active resistance not to. What if his subconscious picked up on some weird little tick and he accidentally made Shoto feel worse? He wasn’t a psychologist. Shit, should he have talked to a child psychologist? He had entertained the thought before but there wasn't enough time to prepare that as well. Sure, he had experience with children but that didn’t mean he was an expert! Besides, it was his mother who actually took care of the children and it wasn’t like he had perfectly sane kids in his household either.

Actually speaking of, did heroes have education and psychology courses in their curriculum or was this the result of the hero industry's influence? Because at this point, hiring a random hero because their Quirk was interesting was as stupid as hiring a university researcher to teach their child. It didn't matter how smart the researcher was, high intelligence did not objectively correlate to the ability to teach others effectively — much less children.

It didn't help his anxiety that many of his advisors, including Basil (who mentioned it with no ill intent), said that he was becoming more like Reborn with each passing day. Now, that was a scary thought. Of course, he was nowhere as sadistic as him, but still. He shuddered at the thought of becoming a Reborn 2.0 and he certainly didn't want to accidentally imitate his father — a neglected child's worst nightmare. 

Meeting Todoroki Shoto gave him more anxiety than his first middle school presentation.

Well, technically they had already met but that barely a sentence-long greeting didn’t count. So to say he was nervous was an understatement. The last time he saw the kid, he ran away in fear! Not that Tsuna blamed him. He tried to be as non-threatening as possible but considering what he’s observed and heard of the Todoroki household, it wasn’t exactly the most nurturing environment for children. Still, he withheld full judgement. He didn’t know all the facts or circumstances surrounding their family.

He had to think positively. At least I can't be any worse at this than Endeavor.

To ease the little hamster tearing asphalt in his brain, Tsuna reread the notes he cobbled together of various tips for home tutors from educational forums to informational videos. He pulled together hours of research when he got back to the agency yesterday, watching relevant Ted Talks to reading common complaints of students on publicly available social media (he hoped those kids were young enough to be excused because some of those comments would NOT help them get jobs in the future). He memorized word for word but having the paper in his hands soothed him. Although he wasn’t socially incompetent, he still wanted to take precautions in teaching. He had experience in commanding and leading but never in teaching. And it wasn’t like he had the most… conventional educators in his life. In his youth, by a stroke of lady luck slapping him in the face, he was stuck with the most apathetic teachers in the world. Well, until Reborn came into his life. But Reborn was… Reborn. He loved the man but his teaching would probably cause more harm than good in this case... or most cases actually.

Tutor Tips!

1. Learn what they like! Their interests, club activities, likes and dislikes. Building rapport with your student is crucial.
2. Young students may be apprehensive to new educators; however, do not take it personally. They are usually shy and curious. For the initial introduction, it is best to have a parent or guardian with you in the room to reassure your presence to the student.
3. Remember to give students plenty of options. Instead of sticking to your learning goals, adapt to your student’s wants and interests. Oftentimes, building rapport with your student is just as important as the material itself.
4. When prompted for questions, students will often say they understand the material. However, this is often a case of introversion or social anxiety as they do not want to look “lesser” than their peers or the instructor. Please make sure to give them aids or prompt them with questions of your own! If your class has no questions, please make sure to give them options and opportunities to contact you from the day of the announcement to the deadline.
5. Make sure to repeat that you are open and available for feedback and questions. Regularly check your messages and set up office hours, if able.
6. Have high expectations for your students. Having no or low expectations reflect your disbelief that your students could do better, and oftentimes result in your students feeling incompetent and depressed. These high expectations should scale with the individual student, not the arbitrary “grade level.” Please note that Piaget's Stages of Cognitive Development and other developmental theories are a guide, not a rule.
7. Personalize the lesson. Make sure to cater to your student's needs but also incorporate their wants. As always, healthy communication is key.

Tucking the paper back into his pocket, Tsuna parted the cheap synthetic fibres of his wig, careful as not to move the clips holding his faux horns in place. He readjusted his tie and straightened out his blazer, silently thanking Reborn and Haru for lessons in disguise (cosplay) etiquette because by God wigs did not mesh well with the bird's nest he called his hair. At the very least he didn’t need to wear a mask or obscure his features with make-up. 

The plan was simple: he would enter into the house as one of Endeavor’s business associates to avoid detection. The identity, or rather physical profile, he borrowed was of a financial consultant who previously visited the Todoroki home once before. They had similar builds which allowed him to have more freedom in the act.

Having done espionage before, Tsuna had suggested disguising himself as a delivery man or hiding inside one of the packages before his agency quickly shut it down. The former idea didn’t work in a logistical sense and the latter idea ruined his image too much. The irony of maintaining an “image” for an underground hero wasn’t lost on them but they still held pride in upholding some standards. Tsuna didn’t know what to do with the implication that such a smuggling tactic made him look like he was some desperate rat scuttling towards any rickety old crevice it saw.

Instead, Chervil assured him that they had a non-disclosure agreement with the man he was mimicking through the UHPPS. So they had that covered if there was ever a particularly persistent reporter. From what he’s seen of the world, he doubted any reporter would have that much persistence to screen every non-hero that came in contact with Endeavor, much less the Todoroki household. Apparently, the billboard’s top ten came with mafia-level competent lawyers and what were essentially rats on the Hero Association’s payroll in the judiciary.

But even without the threat of real legal and social consequences, Tsuna thought the level of journalism in this world was pretty… lacking? — compared to the reporters he’s dealt with. Not incompetent but the level of trust in the hero system definitely seeped into investigative techniques as well. For heaven’s sake, the number one hero whose popularity was known around the world didn’t have his legal name exposed! He was sure the Hero Association had something to do with that but in all those years and not a single lead? No wonder his agency thought of him as overly paranoid.

Tsuna rang the doorbell and waited, a hand resting on top of the briefcase nestled to his side, the thick strap attached to it digging into his pristine suit. About a minute or two later, he heard a muffled “I’m coming!” before the door slid open.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! I hope you didn’t wait long,” Fuyumi said as she gave him an apologetic bow and a confused look. “Hello...?”

Tsuna smiled politely. “Good morning, Fuyumi.”

She squinted a little, a crease forming between her brows. “You sound— Oh! You’re Cielo! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you at first. I wasn’t expecting you to look different,” she tried to justify.

He chuckled good-naturedly. “It wouldn’t be much of a disguise if you had.” Besides, it wasn’t like she spent much time with him to immediately identify him like this on sight.

To be honest, the disguise was mediocre by his (and no doubt Haru’s) standards but it sufficed for this situation and universe.

“Please come in,” she said as she moved out of the way. “Dad told me to give you a tour of the place.” She stared at the thin briefcase in his hand. “You brought a lot less stuff than I thought.”

“In my line of work, being a minimalist is necessary,” he replied, taking his shoes off. “Besides, I can’t really take any chances with the media on my heels.”

“Are all underground heroes this cautious about the media?”

Tsuna looked at her curiously. “Does Endeavor not deal with media sleuthing?”

She shook her head. “A lot of reporters are too scared and well...” She rubbed the back of her neck. “They like to criticize him and they have plenty of material during his patrol.”

He hummed. “How about you? My understanding of the billboard is that it's basically a celebrity sport, correct? I imagine that being close to the number two hero garners some attention even with his… solitary preference.”

She gave him a strange look. “Underground heroes must have it really different then. ‘Real’ identities of heroes are given less priority— they’re not actors or actresses after all. I guess maybe some trashy tabloids do? But the media’s generally more interested in heroes and their Quirks, not personal lives unless something’s really interesting. And it isn't like Dad talks about us much. Also, you know, a huge invasion of privacy and all that.”

The standardization of heroes as a career took that route then. There were only two possibilities: this or full-scale monitoring. And considering how binary the system needs heroism to be, no wonder the media feigns interest in private life. To a point anyway. It’s a good thing I guess if only heroes didn’t publically announce their real names and such — though maybe that helps erase the mystery.

“I see, thank you. To answer your question, it depends. In my situation, the match between Endeavor and I sparked”—He sucked in a breath through his teeth—“media interest.”

She nodded. “Oh yeah, the picture of your Quirk was beautiful.”

He sighed through his nose. “Yes, it spread rather quickly...”

“Oh! No, no, no! I had to go searching for it! When dad told me about all of this, I looked you up and you aren’t known at all. I doubt people who aren’t already fans of underground heroes will ever notice you!” She flinched before hunching her shoulders in a wince. “Oh my God, that sounded so bad, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, I’m more exhausted at the situation, it’s not you.” She apologizes too much. Chrome was like this when she was younger too. “Endeavor is out, I presume?”

She nodded. “Dad’s been out later and later these days. I think I heard something about training new interns from Sam?”

“So you’re taking care of your brothers all by yourself?”

SHe shook her head. “We all learned to take care of ourselves. But I help out. Natsuo isn’t here yet though.” Her eyes shifted for a second. “Oh, um… Mom she’s... she’s not feeling well. So I guess you’ll have to put up with me for a while longer!” She gave an awkward laugh.

“That would be my line,” Tsuna teased to ease the tension.

Fuyumi showed him around the house, acting as his personal tour guide. First, she gave him an overview of the main areas of the house: the living spaces, kitchens, bathrooms, and personal quarters. The first floor, beyond the foyer, held the main spaces and a few extra rooms both in the main house and in the side building. The most notable was the training room which was basically a home gym with an enormous budget. In between the houses were stone gardens and a large yard presumably for training. All in all, it was a very beautiful house. It was like Kyoya’s except less… feathery.

—And that I’m not greeted with a tonfa to my face.

The house, although very traditionalistic in its Japanese architecture, was retouched to fit modern appliances and technology which he discovered to be very underdeveloped in comparison to his timeline. It wasn’t an issue — he’s lived in Primo’s timeline before after all and in realities even far behind that — but it was merely an interesting bit of information he took note of. It made sense seeing as the society had to accommodate for the existence of Quirks but it was fascinating to see which parts of science and technology evolved faster to accommodate for the world’s changes and what had been pushed aside. For civilians, it seemed like the technology they used was largely similar to his world’s about half a decade or so back. Besides the obvious accommodations for Quirks, they still used “older” technology such as gas stoves, although a hot plate was installed in one of the kitchen counters dividing the dining room. He would’ve thought that such a wealthy man would have more interest in technology but looks like he was wrong. Though, he couldn’t really judge what “old” or “new” was when he got pinballed through time-space as often as he did.

This was still a working theory of course. He didn’t see much outside the Todoroki’s homes in terms of civilian housing. Even then, being a billboard hero would’ve given one better living standards and that’s without factoring in cultural conservation, personal tastes, and an active interest in such matters.

Besides observing the house, he noticed how confident and articulate Fuyumi was. She couldn’t be more than fifteen and yet she was clear and organized in her speech. She shared enough information for him to know where to go and how to operate various appliances (because fuck shower temperatures), but not enough that he once considered it as oversharing or leaving out important information. That was by no means an underestimation of the younger generation’s abilities but when he was a teenager, he could barely speak in coherent sentences to his teachers. Although, in all fairness, maybe his clusterfuck of a life wasn’t the best comparison to make.

The only time she had fumbled and over-explained herself was when it came to the personal quarters of the Todoroki household. In his defence, he didn’t ask invasive questions! He barely commented on anything! Just a nod here and there. Yet to her, it seemed like he was scrutinizing her, judging from her distressed state. He really didn’t care if their parents had separate rooms. He didn’t need to know and if Fuyumi had just said, “these are my parents’ rooms, please don’t disturb them” he would’ve just nodded and moved on. He already knew the basic rules of the house from his meeting with Endeavor yesterday. Not to mention it was just common sense not to ask about private affairs.

But to Fuyumi, it seemed like she had to justify why their family was this way.

“And this is where my room is,” Fuyumi said as they walked through the endless hallways. Thank goodness he wasn’t as directionally impaired as some of his friends. “Natsuo’s room is directly above mine.”

Tsuna hummed in a neutral tone. “I can’t help but notice Shoto’s room is...” Away from the other children.

By the layout of the house, the rooms weren’t that far apart. But Shoto’s room was the closest to his mother’s and father’s — although even those two rooms held considerable distance.

“Oh! It’s because dad likes to keep an eye on Shoto,” she answered, a slightly uncomfortable edge in her voice. “We sometimes move rooms because of it. He has to focus on training because he can’t control his Quirk just yet. He’s learning to, of course! Shoto’s a really smart kid for his age.”

Tsuna nodded.

“Really,” she tried to appease him, “Shoto needs more attention — he was two Quirks after all...!”

“Speaking of Shoto, where is he?” From his own experience, further reassurance would only give her the impression that he didn’t believe her. He had his suspicions but no need to play another round of “please believe me.”

She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck bashfully. “I’m sorry, he’s still hiding in his room.”

Fuyumi remembered how distraught Shoto looked when they heard the doorbell ring. She told him not to be rude and greet their guest but he adamantly refused, staunchly rooted on the edge of the engawa, avoiding her gaze. She sighed and quickly ran towards the door to meet Cielo but noted how Shoto wasn’t bundled up on his futon with the blanket cocooned around him like the other times. It wasn’t fear that kept him like she first assumed. In fact, he seemed conflicted? Nervous but not spooked. Distant but still keeping an ear perked.

Well, Cielo did get Natsuo out of his shell— she thought. Perhaps he would help her most reclusive brother open up as well.

“Around this time, he’s usually with… mom. But dad told him to meet you. Should I go get him?”

Tsuna shook his head. For one, he needed his disguised self to be seen around the house as not to arouse suspicion if there were any hidden journalists, though he highly doubted it. But after his past self wholly screwed him over with Endeavor and the media, he wasn’t about to take any chances. And the other—

“I’ll give him some space until he’s ready to talk to me.”

If Natsuo and Fuyumi were any indications, Shoto probably knew what to expect. No need to force the child obviously uncomfortable with the scenario to meet him any earlier than he wanted — or rather needed — to. 

The rest of the tour went smoothly. Fuyumi reminded him that he was more than welcome to use the kitchen however he liked as long as he cleaned up afterwards. She usually did the shopping anyways, only using a grocery app when she was busy, explaining that she liked being outside the house. While normally that line wouldn’t hold any red flags, considering the context, Tsuna felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Thankfully the conversation took a lighter turn when she was talking about her younger brothers.

“Shoto is a bit aloof but please don’t take it as him being rude! He doesn’t really know how to socialize.”

Can’t be any worse than Kyoya. “I won’t, don’t worry. But do you think there’s anything to steer clear of? Anything I should or shouldn’t do?”

Fuyumi hummed. “Well… Oh! Shoto isn’t too fond of sweets.”

Not the response I was expecting. “Really?” Tsuna looked genuinely surprised. Growing up with a household full of kids meant that sugar was as present in his life as oxygen. “First time I’ve heard of that,” he whispered.

“Weird, right? It’s not like he hates it, just the really sweet ones. But he does like those dark chocolate dinosaur eggs. Natsuo too though he prefers the milk chocolate version. A couple of years back when I first picked them up, Shoto thought they were real dinosaur eggs!” Fuyumi chuckled fondly at the memory. “He started hoarding them under the covers to incubate them like chickens.”

Tsuna raised an amused brow. “Like chickens?”

“Chickens! Well, I guess he’s not too far off technically. About a day later when I went to check up on him, I saw him and his futon covered in chocolate like there was a bloody murder — or chocolate-y murder?”

He hid a soft chuckle behind his hand.

She smiled. “Afterwards he felt so embarrassed he didn’t eat them for a week.” She adjusted her glasses. “It’s not often I can see Shoto pout and well… act like a normal kid.”

“Right, you said that you wanted to become a teacher, correct?” he asked, changing the subject when he saw that forlorn look back on her face. “Are you volunteering?”

Her smile returned as she nodded.

“What grade? I imagine you can take on any grade level, you’re hard-working and responsible as far as I can tell.”

Fuyumi took two left steps before gaining balance again. She folded her hand, looking away, fiddling with her bow.

“I um— Thank you," she whispered bashfully. "I volunteer at a kindergarten not too far from here. Junior and senior depending on when they need an extra hand.”

“Which I imagine would be a lot.”

She sighed. “It is. Especially when kids get their Quirks—”

I didn’t even think of that. God, those poor teachers! He just hoped that the education system wasn't as underfunded like it was in his universe.

“—Usually we have a registry of the parents’ and grandparents’ Quirks to see what power their child might develop. Some are really obvious and easy. Others… not so much. I remember there was this one time some of the boys got into a fight over… I think a marker? Yes! A silver marker, you know the shiny metallic ones. Anyways, my host teacher was about to break up the fight when suddenly one of the boys started to sprout wings, fur, and claws!”

Would that be considered one Quirk or multiple? “Did anyone get hurt?”

“Thankfully not but it did startle the others and we suddenly had a class full of crying children on our hands. It was a surprise to all of us since his registry didn't record any animalian Quirks.”

“So Quirks may not be entirely hereditary after all. No, maybe recessive traits?” he mumbled to himself. 

Environmental factors, mutation, RNA manipulation… Wait, are those relevant in this case? Damn it, I really should’ve paid more attention in Reborn’s biology class. To be fair, it was hard to concentrate on his words when he was outrunning a swarm of hornet bombs chucked his way. And outside of "what to do to inflict the most pain without death" and "where to hit to secure a kill" lessons, biology wasn't a top priority as boss. Honourable mention went out to Hayato and Ryohei but the former was the representation of "the smartest man alive cannot teach to save a life" and the latter was more of a hands-on, my Flames can do go fwoosh! and the wound's been cauterized! kind of guy. Both were smart but their teaching style just didn't mesh well with him.

“How long does it take for a child to control their Quirks?” he blurted out before he caught himself.

Fuyumi rose a brow. “It depends, why?”

“Ah, sorry that was a strange question, wasn’t it? I heard Shoto couldn’t control his Quirk just yet and for me, I only started using my Quirk much later in life. You know what they say: underground heroes, an outlier in every sense.”

Fuyumi blinked innocently. “Why?”

Tsuna paused. “I was”—Sealed—“stunted.”

She winced. “I— I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to—”

He held up a hand. “It’s fine. Apparently No ...nno, my surrogate grandfather, thought my Quirk was too powerful at the time.”

He grimaced. He understood why Nono sealed his Flames all those years ago. Him coming to Japan was in part due to the Cradle Affair taking an emotional toll on him. I mean, if someone who he loved as his own son said that he hated him for “betraying” him and wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t know what to do. For Nono, the solution was to respect the screams of the dead Xanxus had killed. But with the intervention of his father, Nono encased Xanxus in his Flames instead. The reason was as simple as it was hypocritical: he couldn’t bear to see the blood of another son.

Perhaps it was mercy. Perhaps it was torture. But for a heart-broken father, it was an action. Not logic. Not right. Not wrong. Just an action. An action he took.

On his deathbed, Tsuna remembered the quiet conversation he heard the tail end of as he waited outside Nono’s room with the others. He couldn’t see anything but heard Nono apologizing to Xanxus. Tsuna didn’t know how Xanxus replied, if at all. After all, his rise as Decimo was birthed from Xanxus’s descent.

So to be attacked and forced to take up arms against his own son, Tsuna understood why. Then to see a child a decade younger than his own powerful, vengeful son after one of the biggest and bloodiest coup d'états in Vongola history having such powerful Flames, Tsuna understood why, in that fragile state, Nono had sealed his Flames. He understood the fear in such alien powers.

“I think he was afraid that my Quirk would hurt me and the people around me.”

Fuyumi gulped, one hand rubbing her neck, the other anxiously fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “You… You had a Quirk too much for your body too?” she muttered under her breath. “Did— Did it work?”

Tsuna shook his head, letting out a humourless laugh. “For its intended purpose, yes. But I had a host of other side effects to deal with.”

It was Byakuran, and later Yuni, who mentioned that sealing Flames from its core was extremely dangerous especially for powerful Skies. External, temporary seals like Mammon Chains concealed, not inhibited the flow of Flames, the invisible life force, throughout the body. But Nono’s seal, although not a permanent one that sealed off his Flames entirely, still messed with his Flames directly. A running theory of Byakuran’s was that such an action was the reason why his younger self never had much motivation to do anything nor improve himself.

To be frank, although Tsuna understood Nono’s reasonings, it didn’t mean he liked or agreed with it. He held a bit of bitterness towards Nono. As disrespectful it may be to think ill of a dead man, it still didn’t erase the past nor forgive his actions involving a naive child. All those years of bullying and being unable to do anything about it — God, it frustrated him wanting to do something but being mentally unable to — how much of it was actually him and how much of it was the seal? Would he have been more confident and healthy if not for his stunted growth?

“What... umm..." She glanced at his face, making sure he wasn't angry. "If you don’t mind me asking, did the people around you do?”

He couldn’t hold in the scoff. “My father didn’t help any and, well, my mother was always bit… naive. She didn't do much to improve this particular situation but she was at least present. Most of the people around me didn’t know.”

“How? Weren’t there signs?”

“I’m sure there were but most people just chalked it up to me being a little slow.” —no-good. Useless.

“Do you... um... resent them?" She took gulped. "For not helping you?”

He hummed noncommittedly. “At first. When I realized the truth, I felt frustrated and confused. It’s like living with pain for years with the doctor saying nothing’s wrong. But then one day, you decide to get a second opinion and with just one visit you finally have a name to attach the pain to. For years I thought it was just me, just my own inability to do more. Maybe it was but at that point of my life, every memory was coloured with a question of ‘what if I wasn’t sealed?’ I.. ughh… ” Tsuna cringed at the recollection, the second-hand embarrassment still strong as he replayed the memories of his youth. “I became defensive of those who tried to help me. ‘Was this pity? Their way of absolving their own guilt?’ ”

Tsuna let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and chuckled nervously. “It wasn’t exactly my proudest moment— I mean, most first reactions are emotional responses but still. It was selfish of me to push that onto others. Now, I had a couple of years to reflect on it to look at it objectively.”

She twirled her thumbs. “Do— Did you ever forgive them?”

“Ahh? To be honest, life moves on so fast that we never really talked about it? I can’t exactly lie and say I forgive them even if I want to and I really do.”

Nono and his father were good people as far as the multiverse went (although that wasn’t much of a challenge) but as a family, they were hard to reconcile with. Especially since it was difficult to arrange a meeting in the first place to have one of those “heart-to-heart” talks. Not that it would’ve helped much anyway, all three of them were shit with dealing with family issues like these. And Tsuna learned that an olive branch only goes so far as to those who would extend their own. Understanding someone's reasonings and accepting those reasonings were two very different things.

“I’m tired of ‘what-ifs’ and… I guess the best way of putting it would be ‘stifling’? I don’t know, I’ve been called too forgiving, and though I personally disagree, I just don’t like dwelling on it. It's exhausting. I want to judge them on their actions after their apologies, not before. Well, not like they did that either,” he muttered under his breath.

“Christ, I brought the mood down haven’t I?” He scratched his cheek, giving her a short bow. “I’m really sorry about that. I sometimes tend to run my mouth.”

“Oh no!” Fuyumi shook her hands. “It’s my fault for asking such an invasive question. Um… what did you ask again?”

He waved it off. “It’s fine, let’s move on.”

Fuyumi nodded, eternally grateful he wasn’t asking her any prying questions. Why did she have to screw up every interaction with him!?

“How’s Natsuo been doing?” He felt the soft purr Natsu gave at the name.

She perked up. “It’s funny. He actually said that he wanted to come home faster after I told him you’ll be staying here.” Her lips curved, tension slowly leaving her shoulders. “He’s been bothering Auntie about it— ‘I wanna go home! I wanna see Cielo!’ ”

Amusement lifted his lips. “Looks like I’ll have to apologize to your aunt when I see her next time. Is Natsuo coming soon?”

“No, auntie said that she’ll bring him home in about two weeks so he’s pretty bummed about that.” She shrugged. “Work stuff apparently. He’s mostly bored.”

He couldn’t say he related much to Natsuo in that aspect considering his mother’s tendency to adopt anyone who needed a roof over their head. And even those who didn’t.

“What does Shoto do for fun, if you don’t mind me asking?” He paused for a second before quickly adding, “for reference. I don’t really know what kids like and I’d rather not be that one boring teacher nobody liked.”

“I don’t think you should be worrying about that.” Fuyumi tilted her head slightly with a quiet hum. “Shoto doesn’t really do much for fun. When he’s not with dad, he’s with mom. When he’s not with her, he sits by the engawa and stares at the garden. Honestly, I wish he would do more haha... O—Oh! But Natsuo’s been really into rubix cubes lately! He’s always liked solving puzzles and riddles. His current record is... fourty-seven seconds! I can’t say I know too much about it but it’s always funny to watch Natsuo’s little dance when he beats his previous record.”

He chuckled. “I can imagine. I actually got him one as a gift. Speaking of which...” He rummaged around his suitcase, finding the nicely wrapped box tagged “Fuyumi”. “Here, for you. I know teaching is a taxing job so I tried to pick something both cute and functional.”

“M— Me?” She pointed to herself as he nodded. “I can’t—”

“Think of it as a thank you gift for the tour and my stay.”

“But—”

“I insist,” he said with finality.

Fuyumi flustered, looking between him and the box. “Really? Are you sure?”

He nodded.

She was about to ask again before he gave her a firm stare. She took the box, quickly thanking him before a comfortable silence fell between them.

It was odd, Fuyumi wasn’t good at handling serious people or heavy gazes. Of course, she had gotten better after years of volunteering and meeting different types of people but she always felt her muscles freeze for a brief moment under scrutiny. But not with him. His gaze was firm, but not intimidating. Strong, but also kind. Although it felt different from All Might’s boisterous optimism and the other amazing heroes she’s seen, Cielo held a more... down-to-earth vibe about him? 

Looking at the neatly wrapped gift in her hands, Fuyumi tried to hide the small smile forming on her lips behind the comforts of the box as they walked towards Shoto’s room. She knew it was childish for feeling this giddy at a gift at her age. It was childish and perhaps others may judge her for it, but for once, it was hers.

Chapter Text

Tsuna took a deep breath as Fuyumi led him to youngest Todoroki’s room, his heart thumping softly against the letter pressing against his chest.

“Shoto?” Fuyumi said as she softly knocked on the wall. “Cielo’s here. I’m going to open the door, okay?”

A beat later, a small noise of affirmation was heard from the other side.

Fuyumi slid open the door as the two entered. Shoto was still sitting on the engawa with his back towards the two, indifferent to Fuyumi’s lecture on how such behaviour was considered rude. She nudged his side, coaxing him to come inside. Tsuna, meanwhile, took in his surroundings.

His room was fairly barren save for a low leg table nestled into a corner with an accompanying chair in front of it, and a few wooden drawers and flowers. He didn’t need to be a woodworker to know the furniture was made of quality materials akin to Endeavor’s desk. The room was neat and tidy — something he wasn’t used to seeing for someone's, let alone a child’s, personal space.

Tsuna masked a frown. The place looked new, not clean, new — not even a spec of personality to be seen. It looked more like a catalogue of a traditional Japanese room in a furnishing magazine than a living space. The only tell of life was the people in the room and even then, the owner seemed to sit outside it. It was only his room by its most denotative sense.

Shoto turned around only to jump behind Fuyumi, shooting a wary look towards Tsuna. He sat by the frame of the door, refusing to cross it as if it was a salt line to a snail.

Oh, right, the disguise.

Tsuna slowly walked into a blind spot in the room where he peeled off his disguise, placing the wig and horns in his bag. He combed through his untamable mane as best as he could, trying to straighten out his unruly locks as best as he could. Good thing it wasn't too hot at the moment or else his head would've been drenched. The walk around the house should’ve been long enough if there were any questions asked about his involvement later. Besides, his scalp was begging to get that wig tossed into the nearest incinerator.

Should've gotten a gel headband or something.

“Sorry, I must’ve frightened you,” Tsuna said, sitting on his knees. “Do you remember me?”

At his blank stare, Tsuna’s inner voice berated himself. Of course, he remembers it’s only been a few days, you idiot!

Shoto craned his head down, eyes still bouncing between him and his sister before giving him a small nod.

Okay... what to do, what to do… What would a teacher say to motivate an unwilling student? What did Reborn say to me?

The click! of a Glock rang menacingly in his ears.

Okay, nevermind. What would a sane teacher say?

“Hm… Do you want your sister to be here as well?” he asked, giving her a brief glance. “If you’re both okay with it, I don’t mind. I just want to ask some questions today. No training, just talking. You can skip a question if you feel like you don’t want to answer it.”

Shoto blinked looking at him before his eyes went back to his hands.

“...no training?” he muttered under his breath.

“No training, promise. I want to get to know you and your limits first.” He looked towards Fuyumi sitting next to Shoto. “Are you okay with this? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

She shook her hands. “Oh, no! I’m completely fine. Shoto, do you want me to stay with you?”

He gave a small nod, his little fingers gripping the hem of her skirt.

“Okay, so I’m going to ask you some questions okay? I’d like you to answer honestly. I promise I won’t get mad or anything. I want to know how you want to learn, okay?”

He nodded, face half-buried behind Fuyumi but attentive. Progress!

“Is there a certain preference you want me to teach you?”

He looked towards Fuyumi, shrinking in, averting his eyes.

“It’s okay to ask questions,” Fuyumi added gently. “Remember? He promised he wouldn’t get mad or upset.”

Shoto shuffled his feet, his little fingers wrapped around her hand. He never had someone say that before. But he couldn’t linger on that weird feeling in his chest again. If he didn’t answer quickly enough, he could get in trouble.

“Wha… What does ‘preference’ mean?” he muttered under his breath, practically melting into his sister’s shadow again. “Sorry...”

Tsuna blinked owlishly. Oh right, kids didn’t know words. That wasn’t a point to belittle him or his age, but rather, spending time with Natsuo and Fuyumi, who were both linguistically gifted, it completely escaped his mind that Shoto may have been different. That was fine. After all, it seemed like the youngest didn’t have many opportunities to talk to others and develop those skills.

He wondered if that was due to the Todoroki household's special circumstances or from “strong” Quirks overshadowing other developmental priorities. Perhaps both? Man, the graduate thesis and academic articles in this world must’ve been a blast to research for considering Quirks were as mysterious as life itself.

Huh, then maybe Shoichi and Byakuran would actually like the post-secondary education here? They would not. Reading academic papers was as tedious in any universe they visited (Byakuran could attest to that).

Tsuna nodded. “That’s okay, no need to apologize. I want you to ask me questions when you have it, okay? You’re not being bad or stupid for asking questions.”

He nodded.

“Preference means… something you want to do or rather do. For example... Oh! Shoto, do you like dark chocolate better or milk chocolate better?”

He perked up a bit. “Dark chocolate. I like dark chocolate dino eggs. Fuyumi buys them for me sometimes.”

“I heard! I like dark chocolate too.” Tsuna nodded enthusiastically. “So when I ask if you have a certain preference you want me to teach you with, I'm asking you if you like learning in a certain way.”

Shoto titled his head, confusion scrunching his brows.

“How do you like to learn Shoto?” Fuyumi clarified. “Do you like writing? Reading? Visuals? Oh, um like drawings and pictures. I know you keeping your art in your desk drawer.” she whispered at the end.

His whole frame jolted at her words before shuffling his feet with his fingers weaved tightly on his lap.

“Do you like drawing, Shoto?” Tsuna asked.

His eyes darted to the low leg table before meeting his eyes. “...I’m not good.”

Tsuna chuckled good-naturedly. “If everybody was good from the beginning, we wouldn’t be able to grow. Besides, if you like drawing, who cares if it’s ‘bad’ or ‘good'? You can be bad at something and still be happy doing it.”

Shoto blinked. Once. Twice. “I like the books with pictures,” he whispered, “the ones mom read.” A shy smile crept its way up at the mention of his mother before falling instantly. “Dad said it was a waste of time.”

“H—He thinks everything outside of hero work and training is a waste of time,” Fuyumi quickly added, trying to salvage their family’s poorly disguised dysfunction. “He wants Shoto to become a really good hero so he’s really passionate about training.”

Everything is a landmine in this house, I swear. “Right, okay,” Tsuna appeased, “Shoto, if you felt happy, it’s definitely not a waste of time. I’ll work hard so your lessons can be fun, okay?”

“Fun?” he whispered to himself as if the very concept was foreign to him.

Tsuna made a noise of affirmation. “Next can you tell me...”

Fuyumi observed their interaction with apt interest. Being a volunteer teacher, she never took charge of any of her own classes. She usually helped her host teacher with minor things during class, grading papers, and writing any incident reports no matter how minor when it involved the students; she was there generally making her teacher’s life a bit easier by sharing the burden. At most, she went around helping students with their independent studies and handled the more difficult students by giving them the attention her host teacher couldn’t.

Cielo was definitely rough around the edges but he was still leagues better than what she had expected. Being a good person and a good educator were different things after all.

“Moving on, I want to be clear on our responsibilities and expectations.” Shoto looked apprehensive but attentive nevertheless. “Do you know why I’m here?”

He nodded, fidgeting in place. “My Quirks.”

“Right, I’m here to help you try and control both sides of your powers.” Tsuna paused before adding, “I’m not expecting you to get it on the first try, okay? We’ll go bit by bit. But I’m going to need a little help from you.”

Shoto blinked owlishly.

Tsuna chuckled internally, seeing the resemblance between the Todoroki children when they were surprised or excited. “Yep! My responsibility is to help you control your powers. Your responsibility is to tell me if something is wrong, okay?”

“Wrong?”

“Hmm… For example, if you don’t like the way that I teach, I want you to be honest with me and say that. I want you to say what’s on your mind. If you need a break, we’ll take a break. If you want to try something else, we’ll try something else. And if I’m doing something wrong, I trust you’ll tell me.”

Shoto nodded again yet this time instead of tucking his chin into his shirt, his neck craned robotically with a confused look on his face.

Now, Shoto was a smart boy. He understood what Tsuna had meant. But, ironically, that confused him more.

He didn’t understand why "being honest" would help his Quirk grow stronger. He didn’t understand the point of “telling him the truth.” Actions spoke louder than words. That’s why he could confide in his mom about how much he hated training with his father without being reprimanded. He just couldn’t understand how mere words could help him.

And that word, “trust.” What did that have to do with anything?

His father was the number two in all of Japan and he’s heard it before — how he was “the prized son of Endeavor.” There was no way his father would hire someone who didn’t know what they were doing. If something was wrong, then it would be because he, himself, did it wrong. Heroes were dependable — someone he was not.

So why use that word?

Once again, this strange hero had befuddled him with his weird ways. Shoto just hoped that by the time training actually started he would know how this man operated. He didn’t want to make any more mistakes.

“I think that’s it for now,” Tsuna said, giving a grateful glance towards Fuyumi. “Do you have any questions for me?”

Shoto immediately shook his head.

[When prompted for questions, students will often say they understand the material.]

But push him to answer and he might feel pressured.

“Okay, but if you have any questions you can write them down and we’ll talk about it tomorrow. It can be something small or big; about training or anything else.”

Repetition. “Remember, if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me. I won’t be mad or upset. I'd rather you be honest with me, okay?”

Expectations. “I have high expectations but they aren’t unreachable. You can do it and I’ll be there helping you every step of the way.”

Adapt. “Do you have any goals in mind, Shoto? Err… What do you want to be when you grow up?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

Fuyumi nudged him gently with her elbow. “Don’t you want to be a hero like All Might?”

His hands jolted off of her, shoulders hunched, looking up at her like a frightened rescue puppy. His eyes spoke for themselves: how did you know?

She bit back a chuckle. Although they rarely ever met, he and Natsuo had so much in common. Well, to be fair, every kid wanted to be like All Might. But aside from that, she only saw it in passing a long time ago but...

“You got all starry-eyed when All Might came on TV,” she said softly.

Shoto buried his pout in his chest while rubbing his hands together, his dithering body shrinking in on itself. He opened his mouth before shutting it, shooting wary looks towards his sister and the man in front of him.

Receiving two encouraging nods, he muttered, “...I’m sorry.”

Tsuna drew a blank at the unexpected response before Natsuo’s bag came into mind.

Pride is the worst sin, I swear. 

“What are you sorry for?” Tsuna asked rhetorically. “If you like All Might that’s completely fine.”

He swallowed his breath, eyes shifting from him to the floor with a blink. “It’s… it’s okay?”

He nodded, trying his best not to show any signs of pity. “Of course. Oh! In fact...”

Tsuna opened his bag once more, taking out a colourful but tastefully wrapped present, the tab with Shoto’s name clipped to the small pastel blue bow taped to the corner. He held it out in front of him, gesturing for him to take it.

Shoto squinted at the gift, his eyes crawling up the arms outstretched in front of him until he stared in both brimming curiosity and reluctance at the smiling man. He stopped when the man’s smile slowly melted, quickly but hesitantly taking the gift with a small thank you. He looked at Fuyumi who gave him an encouraging nudge and a nod to open it.

Tsuna watched as the boy placed it down on the floor and started to carefully unwrap it from the edges. He wasn’t going to lie, even with his reservation, it was interesting to see a child so mindful of their surroundings. He knew that it would've sure as hell saved him several headaches if Lambo (or any of his guardians except Chrome for that matter) acted a bit more like this. Restraint was not something the Vongola was well known for—

His thoughts were interrupted by a small gasp.

Shoto stared at the box full of stationery, specifically the All Might pen as if it were a precious artifact in a museum. Now, Shoto wasn’t deprived of material goods. Endeavor was a successful hero in this society and raked in a fair amount of money both for his family and agency (even with insurance and damage control). But Shoto never felt the need to ask for more than he already had: food, water, shelter, and the occasional gifts from Fuyumi. Although that last one was technically considered a luxury. 

And well, it wasn’t like he was all that materialistic anyways. Shoto was the type of child to stay quiet even if something was bothering him. He learned that the hard way.

Tsuna watched amusedly as the boy’s eyes zeroed in on the pen, hunching over it like a cat ready to pounce yet unsure if he could truly reach for it. Unsure if this was truly his. Tsuna only wished he could’ve gotten more hero merchandise if it meant that Shoto was this excited. He didn’t seem to be the type to show much emotion — not that he blamed him considering his delicate family situation. But considering how secretive Natsuo was with his hero collection, he also wanted to give him inconspicuous items to hide it if need be.

“I’m glad to see you like it!” he said with a teasing grin which faded into something more gentle when Shoto flinched at his voice, looking up at him as if he touched something he shouldn’t have. “No need to be shy, it’s yours.”

“Look, Shoto, it’s All Might!” Fuyumi said as she took the pen and clicked the button at the end. She chuckled as the arms “flexed” with each push. She brought it to Shoto's hands gently coaxing him to take it. “Isn’t he a cool hero?”

He nodded, eyeing bouncing back between Tsuna, the pen, and Fuyumi as he took it from her at a crawling pace. He gulped, fixated on the object in his hands, holding it like it was the cure to every illness in the world. He clicked the end once. Twice. The arms moving up and down, up and down. Such a simple novelty and yet brought him such awe.

“Yep, he’s pretty cool,” Tsuna agreed amiably. “So you want to be like All Might?”

He shrugged, avoiding eye contact, hand gripping the pen tightly.

“You don’t know?”

He tucked into his shirt, unconsciously scooting a little closer to Fuyumi. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No need to be sorry. I have high expectations for you, Shoto. I’ll help in any way I can to reach your dreams— whatever that may be. You can be like All Might if you want.”

At least that’s how most kids think in this universe, right?

Shoto made a small noise, muttering a thank you under his breath.

Chapter Text

The day went by normally after Cielo and his sister had left. Shoto didn't know why a small part of him had hoped, or at least thought, it would go any differently. Perhaps he hoped that he would feel the same odd yet all-encompassing feeling he held during the match between the hero and his father. Perhaps he had hoped to see those vivid orange flames consume his vision. The one that made his heart thump. The one he kept so clear in his memories. The one that changed everything yet nothing at all. The one that defeated his father.

He didn't.

And to be honest, he didn't know if that was a good thing or not. But it would've been different.

Cielo was different. He was similar to his father yet so incredibly different.

And quite frankly, Shoto didn’t know why.

He rolled around in his futon, his aching thoughts tussling his body. It wasn’t unusual for him to stay awake and stare blankly at the ceiling but it was the first time in a while since he was this restless. Normally, about half an hour later his eyelids would start to feel heavy and coax him into his dreams. After all, his dreams were the one place he could say he was truly outside this house. He did have the occasional nightmare but a dreamless slumber is what his mind usually supplied. Though nightmares seem to plague his thoughts more often nowadays…

Regardless, he wasn’t usually this… fidgety. He wasn't the type to toss and turn in his sleep. He wasn't the type to make much noise or to occupy space. And it wasn't like the other times where he couldn't sleep either. He had cried until exhaustion took him plenty of times but that wasn’t this — whatever this was.

And who’s fault was that? Cielo.

Was it because he was an outsider? Was it because his siblings seemed to like him? Well, at least Fuyumi trusted him. Not that he knew much about his own sister anyways. Today was possibly the longest he spent with her since… well, forever. He would see her drop by an awkward greeting now and again but the furthest he ever went with her was receiving gifts. Even then she would leave rather quickly. Not that he blamed her. She had her own life. She was allowed to go to school and make friends outside the family.

Who would stay with him when the alternative was so much more appealing?

Shoto pulled the blanket over his head and closed his eyes but to no avail. Sighing out a groan, he carefully got up and headed towards his table. He pulled out the drawer, lifting the knob with both hands as he pulled to deafen the sound of the slide. No one would hear the sound of a drawer opening but Shoto didn't want to take any chances. Everything was amplified in the dark. He reached over his notebook and papers — folded and pristine — to grab the All Might pen tucked away into the corner beneath the litter of crumpled-up drawings. An indescribable feeling came over him when he saw the tricolour of All Might's signature look. Indescribable, but something akin to joy.

He placed a hand on his cheek, willing his small smile to settle. He held the pen near his chest, looking around as if he was a fox stealing chickens from the pen. After waiting for a beat with nothing but the night cicadas chirping and wind filling the air, he let out a heavy breath. He pushed the drawer back the same way he opened it, crawling back into his futon, making sure he didn’t step on the creakier planks along the way.

As his head hit the pillow, memories flooded to the forefront of his mind. One recent and the other, a reminder.

I have high expectations for you, Shoto. I’ll help in any way I can to reach your dreams— whatever that may be. You can be like All Might if you want.

I have high expectations for you, Shoto. You’ll do it, you’ll be the number one hero and I’ll be teaching you how. You will surpass All Might.

They had said the same thing, right? In the end, he was created to become a hero. In the end, All Might came into the conversation. In the end, he had to get stronger.

But then... why did it feel different? Why wasn't he filled with dread and trepidation when Cielo said it? Why was this— this— anxiety so different? He felt nervous, scared. But not the same type of scared he felt with his father. Was it because training hadn't started yet? Because he had yet to face the receiving end of another adult's disappointment?

What if he changes after he sees my Quirks?

Perhaps it was the way he said it. Perhaps it was because his words left room for an answer. Perhaps it was because Shoto had a say on the matter.

—Not that the boy knew any of this. He had yet to distinguish between phrasing and yet still knew enough to feel that the implication of both statements was vastly different from one another.

Who exactly was Cielo? Who was this man whose presence stuck to his memories like glue? Who was this man similar to other heroes yet not at the same time? Who was this man to disrupt the unwritten rules of the house?

Don’t bring up All Might, don’t waste time, don’t talk back.

Do admire All Might, do take time, do question him.

Cielo seemed nice but everyone seemed nice at first. He only hoped that this kindness would extend to the inevitable disappointment he would bring to training as well.

Shoto let out another frustrated sigh, curling in on himself with a hand under his pillow clutching the— his pen. His pen.

Unknowing of how much time had passed, Shoto gave away to his exhaustion, his mind blurring between consciousness and unconsciousness — the last thing he felt being the reassurance beneath his fingers. 

Chapter Text

Tsuna squinted at the draft in his hands before placing it on the table, still feeling greatly unsatisfied. It was one of many versions that he had to overlook and approve of before getting started as Shoto's tutor.

”I may not be a child psychologist but I don’t believe this is healthy for a child, Endeavor.” He tapped his pen on the paper for emphasis, giving Endeavor a face of neutral disappointment, still hiding his frustration rather well considering it's been long past the hour mark since this meeting had started.

Endeavor let out a breath of indignance. “He can handle it. Those much weaker than him fared worse.”

Yeah, like that’s any better...

Tsuna grimaced looking at the timetable. The paper was full of red crossings and arrows evident of the two’s stubbornness.

7:00 - 8:00 — Morning Downtime

8:00 - 9:30 — Breakfast

9:30 - 13:00 — Warm-up and Training

13:00 - 14:30 — Lunch Break

14:30 - 19:30 — Training

19:30 - 21:00 — Dinner

21:00 - 22:00 — Dusk Downtime

22:00 - 7:00 — Rest

A full twenty-four-hour schedule meticulously planned for Shoto with weekends, Saturdays and Sundays, off. And, boy, did he fight for those two days off not only for himself but more so for Shoto. Tsuna wasn’t sure how much rest a child his age should have but he was sure this would’ve been the bare minimum. And while he understood a cumulative eight and a half hour training session, Shoto was a child. A child with powers, yes, but a child nevertheless. No child should strain themselves for that long.

An hour-thirty meal counting the time he’ll need to digest and clean up... it doesn’t look like they have a hired caretaker, or at the very least, not anymore.

While he was glad that Endeavor took his advice about adequate breaks into consideration — although it was more like two tidal waves crashing against each other — if there was anything he learned from raising the younger members of his family, it was that children did not have this long of an attention span. Even if they did, they needed snacks and breaks. It allowed a moment to let their minds rest and, subsequently, acted as a motivator.

I’ve heard some children need a schedule to function but isn’t this too much? This is more appropriate for an older student’s workload but even then...

Tsuna had to wonder if Endeavor had any military experience or if such things were inevitably embedded into hero society considering the career fulfilled multiple roles as entertainment, social service, and security. It wasn’t like he was new to a strict training regimen but…

“While your drive is admirable, pushing him too hard will—”

“I hired you to teach my child, not to lecture me on how to raise him.”

Tsuna willed himself not to crush the pen in his hand and scowl. While he was used to interruptions, Tsuna still had some pride in his abilities and did not appreciate being cut off during contract negotiations. This man was very fortunate that he had a good night’s rest and three shots of espresso now. 

Not only that, he was lucky he didn’t have Hayato with him. Tsuna may be trained to be careful with his words during meetings and contracts but Hayato’s Machiavellian wit and linguistic abilities were on another level. His reliable Storm was the backbone to the Orwellian maze of contracts and blood oaths. Takeshi was similar but his personality and expertise were better utilized for public relations and the press. Mukuro was also a great negotiator when he wanted to be which, unfortunately, was not often. That tongue of his was useful for more than just taunts and threats!

Internally, Tsuna took a deep breath.

Now, Endeavor wasn’t exactly wrong. Tsuna had been pushing the man’s boundaries and in contract negotiations personal feelings and assumptions should be left for later.

I hate negotiations… Yes, he was selfish for thinking that but talking with stubborn people shaved too many years off his life.

“I apologize for mentioning such intrusive statements, then.” Tsuna sipped what was his fourth espresso. “But as his soon-to-be tutor, I believe this schedule should have some breathing room, no?”

His glare intensified. “We already added 'breathing room' and pushed his morning training quite a bit.”

“And I’m aware. But as someone who has similar Quirks as Shoto, I found that during my own training, appropriate breaks were needed to build mental discipline. The control of two emitter Quirks takes more than just physical training. I found that the standardization of waking up and working too early in the morning was redundant as well. I’m sure I don’t need to say this but Quirks are still a function of our bodies, having two takes a larger toll on us.”

Of course, he was bluffing but stupid confidence was a large part of all negotiations!

“I can agree to this schedule but the caveat is that this isn’t fixed,” Tsuna continued. “Adapting to his needs will be beneficial to his Quirk’s growth. I will, of course, try to stick to the schedule as needed.”

Endeavor crossed his arms, contemplative. He took a sip from his cup.

Tsuna wasn’t exactly sure what was in there.

“Fine.”

Finally!

“—But I want to make sure of one thing.”

God tests his patience yet again.

Chapter Text

Tsuna’s eyes twitched, his consciousness poking at his brain to wake up.

Pushing the plush blanket away, he sat up and yawned, reaching for his phone to check the time. He made a small displeased noise at the back of his throat looking at the number of notifications he had. Pushing away stray strands of hair, he slouched over the blanket left pooled over his lap, eyes scrolling through each subject line. Most were alerts from the local police or from the Hero Association for non-lethal crimes that had already been resolved.

Larceny... misuse of a Quirk... attempted robbery... hostage situation resolved…. apprehended villains suspected of murder — well, that’s new — missing persons… misuse of a Quirk… a cat stuck in a tree? Why is that here?

Comparatively less but still prominent were the ones associated with his agency — references for meetings, datasheets, approval forms and requests, budget allocations, communications — the usual. Rosemary was a huge help on that front. To be honest he felt fairly useless considering how little he was taking on compared to his regular workload back home. Similarly, despite enjoying his newfound freedom, his body ached for something to do.

Placing his phone down next to him, he dusted and neatly folded his bed before starting his morning stretches. He probably wouldn’t be fighting intense battles any time soon but it was always good to be prepared. Despite the lack of consistency in his life, he still developed a routine around that unpredictability. Resting on his laurels would only bring him grief later on due to the universe’s grievance with him having a peaceful day. It was the one thing he did for future-Tsuna because let’s face it, he pushed a lot of his problems for his future self to deal with and his future self hated his past self for it.

Hearing the satisfying pops , he took a moment to breathe before he opened the sliding panel leading to the backyard, taking in the morning. There was a certain wetness still lingering in the air but thankfully it wasn’t suffocating nor smothering his breathing. The sun wasn’t completely up yet, and the early period coupled with the house’s relatively isolated location created a moment of peace. The summer heat had yet to reach its peak which he was grateful for. He liked wearing layers since that gave him extra protection without seeming conspicuous. 

Although it still didn’t mean he could walk around the house in a full suit. He wanted to cultivate a good relationship with Shoto and appearing like an adult, like his father’s business associates, wouldn’t help with that. Tsuna was very much aware of how a person’s image affected public reception after all. Too formal and it isolated the child, placing an unnecessary hurdle in creating rapport. Too casual and not only would he be without much protection, but it was also inappropriate while living in his employer’s house full of children. Sporting something more casual yet still appropriate, like a simple cream dress shirt and light blue chinos, made him more approachable yet still maintained his professionalism. Although he wished he could forego the shirt due to the warmer nights.

Tsuna allowed himself to blend into the background, indulging in the sound of chirping birds and the soft breeze weaving through the garden for just a moment longer before pushing himself off the wall. Closing the door, he made his way to the bathroom to finish his morning routine before heading towards the kitchen.

Fuyumi mentioned that he could use the kitchen however he wanted including whatever was in the fridge. It didn’t occur to him at the time since his friends knew nothing of personal space but this was quite the odd situation. He would’ve expected to have his own fridge considering how conservative his culture, not to mention Endeavor, was. Perhaps this was just another evidence of how removed the man was from his own family. He just hoped the rest of the Todorokis were actually okay with this arrangement. Just because he got used to his mother inviting random strangers into their house and rifling through their space, it didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of the imposing nature of his living situation.

Tsuna rolled his shoulders, stretching the grogginess out of his body. He made sure to make his steps light; he wasn’t sure the kids were awake yet but no sense in creating extra noise. When he entered the kitchen, he spotted a little cat-shaped note left on the table:

Good morning Cielo!

I have to go grocery shopping today anyways so please feel free to use whatever we have left. I also picked up some pre-made lunches from the combini yesterday.

Let me know if you need anything too!

-Fuyumi

A gentle smile spread over his face, thinking immediately of Kyoko and Haru during their youth. But soon after his brows furrowed. That... was a lot of work. And it wasn’t like he could help her either considering Shoto was his priority. Perhaps if their schedules aligned, he could help her put the groceries away later or something — it was the least he could do.

For his first day, he ate one of the pre-made lunches and brewed himself a nice cup of coffee.

Chapter Text

After washing the containers and placing them into the cupboards, Tsuna changed out of his casual wear and into his “hero costume.” It was similar to the suit ensemble he wore when he sparred with Endeavor except without the legal limitations. The hidden weapons and modifications made him feel a tad more secure despite the lack of any real threats to him. Not to mention Hayato’s idiot remover set — although those were kept more so for sentimental values.

He finished up his warm-up stretches and started scrolling through his phone while he waited for Shoto to finish his breakfast. He had already checked his emails and signed off on what he could through his phone, the endless crawl of non-lethal crimes and illegal use of Quirks filling his main inbox. He would forever thank the competency of his agency for giving him less work to do.

While he didn’t think he was going to start sparring during the morning session, he wasn't the type to sit idly by — either by choice or by force. He would’ve started planning a curriculum — and he did in broad strokes — but he didn’t have enough information as of yet. From a technical standpoint, the traits of his and Shoto's “Quirks” were shared only through assumptions; this first day would determine how his training would go.

And about ten minutes later, when the clock hit 9:30 on the dot, he heard a knock.

“Come in,” Tsuna said as he picked up his cloak and fastened it around his shoulders.

He heard the sliding of wood as small steps hesitantly made their way to him.

“Good morning Shoto,” he greeted with a smile, “how are you?”

He saw the way Shoto's eyes darted around the room before landing on him.

“Good morning...” he whispered. “I ate breakfast...”

“Was it good?”

He nodded.

Tsuna carefully observed his reactions. While Shoto didn’t look scared, he could feel his unease and discomfort.

Hold back on the pleasantries.

He crouched a bit, making sure he didn’t stand too imposingly. “Would you like to know what we’re doing today?”

Shoto nodded, fiddling with the ends of his shirt. When he caught Tsuna staring at him, he flinched and quickly pinned his arms to the side.

Hm...

“Well, first I’d like to see where you’re at. How much you can control your Quirk and all that. Then, I’d like for you to show me what you know. Do you have any questions?” Sensing the boy’s hesitance, Tsuna added, “no need to be scared. I promised you yesterday I wouldn't get mad, remember? And that I like hearing your questions?”

Shoto gave a small nod, his index finger unconsciously picking at the hems of the shirt again. He still couldn’t look him directly in the eye. He mumbled something under his breath, too quiet and muffled for Tsuna to parse.

"Sorry, can you repeat what you said?"

Shoto gulped, his thumbs pressing against each other, only separated by a layer of fabric. “Are... we going to fight?”

Tsuna had to quickly mask the confusion on his face lest it got misunderstood as something else.

“You mean, sparring? No” — Shoto’s shoulders relaxed — “not today.”

It tensed back up again.

“Oh... Okay.”

It took him a moment but it clicked. Different meanings — Tsuna caught on.

“Hey, no need to be scared." He lifted his hands in surrender. "When I say spar, it doesn’t mean we’ll battle for real." Hero work was a form of contact sport but... "I'm not going to spar with you as I did with your father. Also, we'll go slow. I’ll need to know how you move since you shouldn’t always just rely on your Quirks but I’m not going to fight you.”

“You’re not?” He dared to look hopeful.

Either I’m more intimidating than I thought or I attract way too many people down to fight.

Tsuna didn’t know if this was a case of tough love, a child not wanting to train, or Endeavor doing something a little more sinister because there was no way he wouldn’t have noticed any bruises or injuries on his body if Endeavor actually fought his own son. At the very least, not ones that are openly visible to him. Although considering his own experiences and pain tolerance, he wasn’t a good judge of whether or not injuries caused during training were just a part of the program or abuse. Especially since he fell on the side of “children shouldn’t need to fight at all.” He didn’t know the limits of children — especially since he grew up with the craziest kids the mafia could provide in his universe — much less the physical limitations of this universe’s children.

But all that didn’t matter when Shoto took sparring as something to fear regardless of any potential miscommunication.

I’ll have to look into this later.

“No, I won’t," Tsuna said firmly. "When I say spar, I’ll be matching your movements and guiding you to improve. I can’t promise it won’t hurt since there may be accidents but I promise I’ll never intentionally hurt you. And I promise we’ll stop and change to something else when you get tired or it becomes too much, okay?”

For the first time today, he looked straight up at him. “No pain?”

“Maybe a little soreness, but no pain, okay? Okay." Affirmations. "Thank you for asking, Shoto. You’re helping me learn how to better teach you.”

He nodded.

Tsuna sighed internally. Look, he was against children fighting. But he understood the necessity of it — both in the underbelly of his world and this one. While he didn’t want to make any hasty conclusions considering his dislike of Endeavor’s attitude, he got a sense that Endeavor’s training may have crossed the line. Tsuna wasn’t so immature as to completely disprove his gut feeling but he has had personal feelings influence his decisions before and didn’t want to make a delicate situation worse if he was misinterpreting anything. Even if his general conclusion was the truth, misreading even a small aspect of it could have deadly consequences on the affected.

Besides, if such a theory holds, confronting this unskillfully will no doubt lead to worse outcomes for the children.

Of course, that didn’t mean he was ignorant either. It was clear that Endeavor’s behaviour was toxic and borderline abusive — if not actual abuse. But he needed to get as much concrete information as possible. Acting rashly may backfire on everyone.

“Great,” Tsuna said, one knee touching the floor. “Now, what can you tell me about your Quirks?”

Like most of their conversations, Shoto took some time to reply.

“Um… A fire Quirk and an ice Quirk,” he said as his left thumb nervously rubbed the inner palm of his right hand.  “I can’t really control it and I’m really weak.”

“There are always ways we can improve,” Tsuna responded neutrally. He’d have to help Shoto with his self-confidence but his priorities lied in gaining information. “How do you activate your Quirks? Can you show me?”

Shoto nodded almost automatically before realization struck. He looked down, staring at his hands curled into fists in front of him.

Which side should he show first? His left? His right? Father hired him to train his right side, right? But what if he’s wrong?

Wait.

What if he wanted to see both at once? He couldn’t do that. If he couldn’t do it, would training change? He said that training would change based on his performance. Does that mean if he couldn’t do it, training would change? Will training be like his father’s then? But he promised that this training wouldn’t—

“Shoto?”

He flinched as his tutor called his name.

He was waiting.

Staring. Staring at him.

He took too long.

He’s taking too long!

He had to do something! Anything!

But what if he didn’t—! 

DO SOMETHING!

“Sho—?”

FWOOOSH!

Instinctively Tsuna dodged the blast with his heel swiftly kicking the ground, launching himself a fair distance from the boy. He squinted as a sudden jet of flames erupted from Shoto's left side.

Shoto gulped, his spit caught in a stutter, his breath laboured. His shoulders caved in on itself, eyes blown wide, frozen in contrast with his trembling hands. The fire bit into the wooden flooring under him, his left arm strangled by the heat like a slithering viper.

“I— I'm sorry.”

He stared at the man, cursing himself for being so weak. Cursing himself for hurting others. Cursing himself for having this fire that did nothing but—

“It’s okay, Shoto.” Tsuna cut into his thoughts, still with a reassuring smile on his face. He lowered to a kneel again, making sure he didn’t move closer or make any sudden movements. “I’m not hurt. See? You didn’t hurt me. I was just surprised."

Tsuna wasn't lying to spare Shoto's feelings. Although the initial burst was bigger than he expected and came out without a preliminary period, the fire Shoto emitted wasn't anything he needed to worry about. Rather, the more important thing was...

"Breathe with me," Tsuna said gently. "In… Out… In… Out… Good. See? It’s okay. We're okay.”

Shoto followed his voice, his first few breaths faltering into a shaky mess, but gradually coming to an even tempo. The flames flickered along his left arm before disappearing as smoke.

Thankfully, it was just a momentary alarm because Tsuna wasn’t sure what to do if the boy had a full-on panic attack.

So he can control his fire somewhat...

“Good job. I'm very impressed. Maybe we’ll work on the output later though,” Tsuna teased lightheartedly.

With the flames subdued, he took a glance at the floor. To no surprise, the floor wasn’t even charred or splintered.

As expected of Endeavor.

Shoto’s gaze sank, bearing the weight of his guilt and shame. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, no harm done,” he reassured, straightening out his tie. “It was unexpected but I think your control isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

Shoto took a curious peek through his bangs.

Ah, so it was unconscious.

“Shoto, when you used your fire, I only saw the left half of you set aflame. Do you know what that means?”

He shook his head.

“It means that you used your ice subconsciously— er… without you knowing.”

He weaved his hands together. “I can’t...” he mumbled, the latter half jumbling together.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Can you repeat what you said?”

“I...” He looked away for a brief moment, eyes glossy. “I can’t use both… at the same time. I’m sorry.”

Have to look into this overly apologetic issue too.

“You did, though—” Tsuna paused, words caught in his throat. He rephrased, “Shoto, do you think it’s impossible for you to use both your Quirks at once?”

He didn’t nod but his answer was obvious from his prolonged silence.

Tsuna hummed contemplatively. So Quirks did have some psychological components that contributed to their use even if they weren’t categorized as such. He couldn’t be sure if this was a choice or if Quirks were biologically tied to one's mental state, however. Or even if that applied to all cases.

But considering Endeavor said Shoto had both Quirks and wanted him to train him to use both, this wasn't a case of "could he?" but "will he?"

“Do you want to?” Tsuna asked.

Shoto shrugged not in an apathetic way but because he never had the luxury to ask such questions.

So either Shoto has no interest in heroics aside from its theatrics or...

“Why do you think it’s impossible?”

“...I don’t know,” he whispered, squeezing his fists.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay to say ‘I don’t know,’” he assured. “If you don’t know, let’s find out together. I’m going to continue asking some questions and I want you to answer honestly. It’s okay if you take your time or say you don’t know, alright?”

He gave a stiff nod.

"And if you need me to repeat the question, I will. No worries. Okay?"

He nodded again.

“First, do you have a hard time controlling your fire?”

He rocked his thumbs together before reaching out with his left arm, a wavering thread of fire trailing his skin. The threads wove creating a small wave of flames and small bits of ember flickered from his cheeks.

So he does have some semblance of control.

Shoto watched Cielo’s expressions carefully. He gradually stopped his Quirk, the absence of fire quickly cooling his skin.

“I can’t control it good," he uttered under his breath, rubbing his left palm. "Sometimes the fire is bigger.”

The man was still staring.

“When is it bigger?”

“During training… when I’m with him,” he softly but firmly, emphasized with venom that Tsuna didn’t expect.

Then perhaps it was the properties of fire correlating with one’s emotions and/or environment(s) that influenced its output and control.

“I’m not as good as Toya was at my age.”

Yes, that name was another landmine here.

“I don’t know how good Toya was either,” Tsuna said his name slowly, watching for any indication he was uncomfortable with the topic.

He found none. At most, Shoto seemed to be reacting more to the memory of being compared to his eldest brother rather than the name itself. To him, it was but a name he happened to share blood relations with.

Tsuna continued, “So don’t compare yourself to him. I’m here to help you , remember?” Maybe bring in specifics? “Like when you activate your fire Quirk, how did you feel?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled.

“Did you feel scared? Uncertain?”

He nodded.

“Can you tell me why? I promise I won’t get mad.”

“Because I didn’t answer fast,” he replied, biting back shameful tears. His eyes never left the floor. “Because I’m too slow—”

“You’re not,” he swiftly cut in with a hand motioning him to stop. “As I said, it’s okay taking your time to answer and do things. Why are you scared of being slow?”

“I don’t want to change training,” he trailed into a whisper.

Just how shit is your training, Endeavor?

Tsuna had to fight the urge not to march into his hero agency and shake him down for answers. Or sic Natsu on him.

Or both. Probably both.

“When I said that I would stop or change training, I didn’t mean it like that. Remember? I said that I’ll match your movements? It doesn’t mean I’ll default— go back to how your father trained you.”

Shoto shook his head. “But he said I have to get better. He said Toya could do more when he was my age.”

Tsuna didn’t know much about the developmental stages of Quirks but deduced that this was probably equivalent to making your child learn academic content three grades above theirs instead of whatever constituted as “normal” Quirk counselling. Considering there were institutions in place after preschool or elementary that specialized in Quirk counselling or training, it was safe to say the development of one’s Quirk wasn’t fixed. Hell, the existence of Quirk enhancing drugs itself proved Quirks were flexible. It was biological after all and there was no extent to which people discovered new or amended previous knowledge about the human body in any universe. Byakuran had the medical knowledge of a demi-God at this point and even he still discovered new things with his parallel selves.

“And? You’re not your brother, Shoto. I’m here to teach you, not compare you to him or anyone else for that matter. Just because someone does something better than you, it doesn’t mean you’re bad at it. People learn in different ways and at different speeds.” He hummed for a moment. “Hey, do you think when I was your age, I was strong?"

He nodded, solid in his answer but confused as to why he asked.

Tsuna let out an amused breath. "Actually, did you know when I was your age, I constantly tripped over myself? I was always last place in school races and got horrible scores on my tests!”

He gave him a disbelieving look.

He chuckled. “Really! When I was younger, I was such a crybaby. I tripped, I cried, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t use my Quirk at all.”

A small gasp. “Really?”

He couldn’t believe that the man who fought his father could be anything less than a genius from birth.

“Yep. Now, does this make me lesser than anyone? No. Some of us start here” — he held out one of his hands near the floor — ”and some of us start here” —he held out his other hand near his shoulders — ”and we all grow at different rates.”

He raised his lower hand faster than the one near his shoulders until the former hand was at a higher height than the former. After a moment, he lowered his arms.

“Some people are born lucky and given more opportunities — things to help them grow faster while some aren’t. And that’s exactly it: luck. You don’t need to take responsibility for what you can’t control, Shoto. Admire others, but try not to compare yourself to them. They aren’t you and you aren’t them.”

“..okay.” He didn’t sound too convinced but as long as Tsuna planted that seed, it was enough for now.

I’ve had suspicions but— Hm… Do you not like your Quirks?”

He shook his head, his right hand latching on his left arm. “I don’t like fire. My left side makes everyone sad. It hurts.”

Associations with fire…

Tsuna weaved his fingers together. “Fire can hurt but to me, at least right now, it seemed like your fire was there to protect you.”

Shoto shook his head.

“No? But when you’re scared, your fire activates as a reaction. Your fire wanted to protect you like... your... ice...”

As Tsuna trailed off, things started to click. The reason why Shoto seemed to live such a separate life from his other siblings. Why they were so removed from their father. Why Endeavor seemed to prize his youngest above all else.

Christ, this is the Quirked version of eugenics.

While he had already had suspicions on "why" from his interactions with the Todorokis, saying it out loud, connecting the pins on board with Shoto in front of him, made the thought truly sink in. The genetic manipulation for one side to be compatible with the other…

No, no, no. He couldn’t make that conclusion just yet. It could be a host of other contributing factors and not just… that. At least he hoped to God it was.

It didn’t seem like Endeavor hated his other children considering he didn’t abandon them when their Quirk manifested. But that didn’t mean much considering what he knew of Natsuo’s opinions on his father and Fuyumi’s constant need to justify their family dynamics to him. They clearly weren’t deprived of money, shelter, or access to consumables. They weren’t restricted or confined to the house either. So it wasn’t like Endeavor made his children survive or prove their worth to gain these essential resources. But then again, having no expectations was still as damaging as the pressures of being a “gifted child.”

So what made him push Shoto so hard? Was it for his rarity? For his pride? Or was something—

“Like my ice?” Shoto asked, interrupting Tsuna’s increasingly distressed thoughts.

Tsuna quickly gathered himself. This wasn’t the time or place to start dissecting the web family drama he got tangled up in. Granted, he was only caught by poking at the threads.

“Do you know what overheating is?”

Shoto nodded.

“So when your fire went a little bit... rough, your ice protected you from burning.”

Considering he wasn’t exhibiting symptoms of heat exhaustion or burns, his natural immunity and ice subconsciously must've cooled him down.

Shoto blinked owlishly. “My ice did?”

He looked down at his right hand, biting back a small smile. Mom protected me…— he thought with a small kindling of hope.

Meanwhile, Tsuna hid his profound glee making Shoto happy (even if it was just a minuscule quirk of his lips!) under his ever-present neutral smile.

“It did. Both your fire and ice did. So don’t be scared of using your power.”

Shoto nodded with a little more energy than before.

Did talking about his ice Quirk lift his spirits?

“Great! Now, can I see your ice? And don’t worry about how well you can do it. I just want to see, not to judge.”

Shoto took a deep breath. He held out his right arm, his palms facing up. His brows furrowed as a thin layer of frost slowly veiled his fingertips, a few ice crystals growing from his hands. Tsuna looked down to see bits of ice glueing Shoto’s feet to the wood beneath him. Although there wasn’t much ice forming, there was more ice around his feet than his hands.

Judging from his position, it doesn’t seem like he intended to freeze the floor. Interesting, it’s an emitter like Endeavor.

Although he wasn’t sure about that last part. Considering the fire and the visual hazard that was his costume, Tsuna wasn’t sure if Endeavor preferred to use his hands as the main conduit for his Quirk, because that’s what worked best for him, and regulate that fire throughout his body with the aid of his support gear, or if he could spout fire from anywhere on his body.

And like before, only one side of Shoto’s body looked like it was affected by his Quirk.

No. Is it something unconscious or autonomic?

The latter would imply the regulation of his body temperature was adaptable while the former implied it could be honed and trained.  

Significantly less power held in the ice. Perhaps due to Endeavor's focus on his flames? But I highly doubt Endeavor would leave his ice alone. Perhaps his mother considering the kids’ affability with her. But the disparity between the output suggests she isn’t as ambitious as Endeavor and her civilian status would’ve restricted her Quirk use. But his lack of direction...

“Pah!”

Shoto’s arm recoiled slightly as the small ice crystals fell from his hands and cluttered onto the floor. He let out a breath, a small puff of condensation forming with every exhale.

Huh.

He weaved his hands together as his breathing settled.

Hm?

Evening out his breathing, Shoto snuck a hopeful peek at Cielo observing him before he quickly looked away. What was he doing? What exactly was he hoping for? He patted his chest, squashing those weird feelings down.

Although he was nice, almost weirdly so, his ice was still incredibly lacking in comparison to what the hero could do. He was still pathetically weak. He didn’t have the control nor power that Cielo had. Not even close.

But — Shoto kept stealing glances at the man lost in his thoughts — this was just a demonstration. Cielo said it himself that he just wanted to see, not to judge. Still, he couldn’t help but force down his breakfast as chills raked down his spine, his throat constricting, just barely allowing his saliva to pass through. 

To what felt like minutes to him, Tsuna finally spoke:

“We’ll have to work on a few things.”

Shoto wasn’t sure if that statement was good or bad. It was probably good right? Unlike his father, he didn’t say he was weak. He didn't say he should be better. Not in that tone. But it could also be bad since he didn’t—

“Your control is better than you think it is." He nodded to himself. "More powerful than I thought too. Can you show me your Quirks again? I want to make sure I’m getting my facts right.”

—praise him.

...He praised him.

Why? — Shoto wondered.

Was it a lie? A ruse? Or was it simple pleasantries? He knew he was weak. He was sure Cielo knew he was weak. So why? Why praise him? But more importantly, why was that feeling from before still growing when he desperately tried to bury it like before? Like many times before?

The boy unconsciously took a step forward towards the man only for his leg to jerk with a small crack! echoing through the room. He glanced down to see the bits of ice clinging to his skin, a shallow crater of ice pinned to the ground in place of where his foot once was.

Shoto’s ears burned redder than his flames.

Chapter Text

Tsuna took a sip of his coffee, leaning against the wooden pillar of the engawa just outside the training room. Shoto was presumably having lunch with his mother considering Fuyumi had other plans. He hasn’t seen her yet — of course, he had no desire to force an interaction — but it felt weird not greeting the elusive Todoroki matriarch in her own home. It would’ve also been a nice opportunity to gauge her role in this family — to assess if she was a threat to the kids or not. But considering Shoto practically leapt out the door when he was dismissed, it didn’t seem like she was as dangerous as he initially thought. But then again, he’s met manipulator types before — battled, befriended, and worked with several of them. While he had doubts this situation would be similar to his previous experiences, he wanted to withhold judgement — both good and bad — until they interacted for a sufficient amount of time.

And it was from this mindset that Tsuna didn’t want to keep Shoto for longer than the boy wanted to. It was also the reason why he had a cup of coffee and a small sandwich here for lunch. He didn’t want to impose on their privacy. And speaking from experience, it was awkward as hell dining with a stranger.

Or people you fought with before. Mom really took in too many people for her own good… and my sanity.

Although to be fair, it wasn’t as if over half his friends didn’t try to kill him at one point or another.

As for the small bit of evaluation this morning, well, where should he start?

Well, first and foremost, he was just glad that Shoto was open to communicating with him since it was one of his biggest fears in teaching. This was why Takeshi and Ryohei mostly handled post-rescue operations as they had the uncanny ability to make people, especially children, comfortable and talkative around them.

The boy definitely lacked the skill, dexterity, and power Endeavor desired. He did watch some videos on a child’s developmental process of Quirks but, like most things, it was fairly unreliable. Some children mastered the fundamentals of their Quirks when they were toddlers and some didn’t even bother to experiment with it until their adulthood — at times even longer than that. At least for the latter reason, he suspected the banning of Quirk use in public spaces and generalization of what was concerned "villainy" was the reason for that. Some children adjusted to their Quirks easier; in most cases, they were born with mutant-type Quirks. Some children had it harder if their Quirks were directly tied to some environmental force, specific conditions, or drawbacks. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find much information on this latter case unless it was a powerful villain or a disaster report. The Hero Public Safety Commission and their different international branches held much more sociopolitical power than he thought.

He also looked into fire and ice emitter Quirks specifically at the elementary level but other than small embers or a shard of ice, in comparison to Shoto’s powers, the reference didn’t yield practical results. He had researched some elemental emitter Quirks used by pro heroes but, to him, it didn't reveal anything he didn't already know from watching Endeavor. He thought about asking Fuyumi but didn’t want to trouble her when she was busy.

But, at the very least, today did confirm that one’s mentality did indeed affect their Quirks at least to some extent. 

His dissonance with his own Quirk… would it be comparable to body dysmorphia? Or are emitter Quirks psychologically considered more of a biological accessory on the body? Either way, I need to sever the association between his own power and Endeavor.

Endeavor was perceptive but blinded by his own ambitions. Shoto weaving his hands together to control his breathing and regulate his body temperature only proved this idea. Endeavor said Shoto had little to no control over his Quirks but that small action proved Endeavor sought unreasonable results far too quickly. The action was probably subconscious like when people fidget when they were nervous or bounce their knee when they sat down; something they learned and adapted to without explicit instructions.

Speaking of, it was both a blessing and a curse that Shoto was so visibly nervous around him. The latter was obvious; he had no intention of scaring Shoto or wanting to see him so uncomfortable. But a small blessing from that observable reaction was his trust. Ironically, Shoto trusted Tsuna not to… do whatever Endeavor did. From the way Shoto pinned his arms to the side after being caught fidgeting, and from his match with Endeavor, it was obvious that the man had no tolerance for wasted movement, especially during training. While Tsuna understood and experienced that himself, the way the man went about it was most likely counterproductive to what he was after. Besides being two different people with very different ways they handle situations, at the very least, Tsuna's mentors gave him some form of reward or “checkpoint” to let him know his progress. Although the training was gruelling, he knew his teachers pushed him because they saw potential in him and believed he could be better for himself and his family — not whatever selfish ambition was urging Endeavor to impose his own will on the youngest Todoroki. From his actions, it seemed like Shoto wasn’t too familiar with positive affirmations.

This morning only solidified his theories when he saw the “outburst” from Shoto with Fuyumi before his and Endeavor’s match.

Considering she called Shoto clinging to her as a “tantrum,” it’s likely that he’s learned to hide his fear.

It also implied a host of other things about Fuyumi and Endeavor as well...

So if Shoto was openly nervous around him, coupled with his nature and intelligence, it meant that Shoto wasn’t as guarded around him as Tsuna expected him to be. And if that subconscious Quirk usage was any indicator...

Probably a heightened state of emotion triggers his fire while his ice triggers from trying to numb that fear.

He couldn’t imagine how frustrated Shoto felt. Quirks being biological would mean that the lack of control in one’s Quirk would be like losing control of a limb or some sort of bodily function, right? So why didn’t his parents hire a Quirk counsellor? For his ice at the very least? On top of all the family conflicts the child had to deal with, being unable to control his own body must be incredibly frustrating.

So his “lesson plan” was to ease some of Shoto’s concerns first. He could feel the waves of anxiety coming off from him: both desperate not to stand out but also to show him something, anything. It was an all too familiar fear to Tsuna. Except Shoto had to deal with his father’s expectations on top of whatever was going on inside this house.

And if the past three hours of training were indications of anything it was that Shoto’s powers were terribly imbalanced. His ice was either too fragile or erratic while his fire either wavered or burst out of his skin like a canon.

Tsuna wrote down in his notes:

Thought process and learning style → What does he think about when using his Quirk?

→ Heavy associations to his family? Self?

Self-confidence and identity → What does he think about his Quirk?

→ Low affinity towards fire; neutral-positive towards ice

History and Quirk parentage → What does he know about his own Quirk?

→ Avoid familial landmines!

→ Research early career of Endeavor

→ Fuyumi?

Resolve and short-term/long-term goal(s) → What does he want to use it for?

→ Favourable to heroes (sans Endeavor)

→ Looking for heroism or a "pro" career?

→ Other possibilities?

[…]

Tsuna took another sip, subconsciously tracing the edges of Natsu’s box with his other hand.

The small puff of condensation Shoto breathed out only cemented how different the universal axioms was compared to his. Universal axioms were, as defined by Byakuran, Yuni, and Kawahira, a set of “laws” inherent to a universe (while planetary axioms were inherent to a single planet like Earth). For example, Flames were a part of his universe’s axioms while Quirks were a part of this world’s. But some laws didn’t have to be so overt and some universes shared axioms such as gravity or death.

He truly couldn’t apply his knowledge about the human body to this universe’s residents — not even the children. Considering it was condensation that formed, Tsuna had to assume Shoto’s respiratory system wasn’t affected by his Quirk, or rather he couldn't use his respiratory system as a conduit for his Quirk. So no ice or fire breath attacks — good to know. This also implied that related respiratory organs may be susceptible to his own Quirk at certain thresholds if immunities and resistances for one’s own Quirks only manifested in the primary output areas such as his cheeks, arms, and legs.

It would also mean that the air around him was significantly colder than what Tsuna had expected. Or at least Shoto’s skin would’ve been freezing without it actually hurting him, or his skin expelled cool air during activation. This was another area to explore; to see if this “leak” wasn’t an autonomic process. Considering Endeavor had some level of pyrokinesis from his ability to shape his fire and control its heat, then he had to assume Shoto could do or eventually do the same as well with his Quirks. If Shoto could patch up the “leak” of cold or hot air and instead focus that energy into an asset, he would become a formidable fighter. Of course, this assumed it could be controlled and wasn’t just a part of the heat transfer process.

Not that it mattered much now. That would require balance and a strong mental fortitude that Shoto wasn't quite ready for yet.

Tsun groaned, wishing Fon was here. He overthought too much for his own good and Reborn would kill him for being such a shitty teacher. Considering each branch of martial arts required intense meditation and practice, the man was, in Skull’s language, “zen as fuck.” Besides, if the Arcobaleno could help Hayato during their middle school years when he was the most explosive, both figuratively and literally, Fon could most definitely help Shoto in both training and working through his problems. And considering how well he treated I-pin, Tsuna trusted the boy with him.

It wasn’t as if he was unused to different universal axioms. He’s been sent to worlds where Flames and other supernatural powers didn’t exist. He’s been sent to worlds where spiritual beings were real, where “souls” were not a concept but its reality. But adjusting to these new rules was nevertheless exhausting. He’d even argue that these smaller differences were more of a hassle than universes where the differences were overt because at least then his mind can delegate his situation to the “so outrageous that I don’t even have a proper response to it so might as well roll with it” corner of his brain. That, and the hidden dangers it posed.

Tsuna groaned again, glaring at the drops of coffee pooled in the corner of the empty cup for the second time today, taunting his addiction. Checking the time — 14:17 — he made his way to the kitchen. They would’ve finished eating by now and he didn’t want coffee stains to ruin a perfectly good cup.

When he opened the door, the chairs were exactly where he first saw them. No dishes in the sink or drying on the rack. Towels untouched, hanging on the side. Only the mechanical buzzing of the refrigerator greeted him.

Not a home, but a house.

Chapter Text

“Then,” Tsuna said to Hayato who finished his daily reports, “the CEDEF's second marine faction will lead the Crociera Atena project. I approve of Settore Pioggia’s third division under Basil’s command. Capture the entire crew but leave the associate behind. Transfer them to cold storage seven. Otherwise, Basil is free to handle the issue however he deems fit.”

His hand stopped for a moment, soft orange Flames dancing on the tip of his pen. He quickly ran his eyes across his notes, checking the small annotations he made. He frowned.

These numbers may be conservative.

He erased a few notes he made about the scout’s report and rewrote it.

“Actually” — Tsuna leaned his chin on his palm — “tell him to take division seven and fourteen too if necessary. Ten is ideal but he’ll have to run it by Takeshi first.”

“How about Division Eight?” Hayato suggested. “They should be arriving within two days at most. Even after a day’s rest, the central deployment will begin in three days so—”

Khrrrzzzt!

“Basil can take Division Ten if he needs them, I trust his judgement,” Takeshi interrupted.

Tsuna instinctively placed his hands on the rim of his earbuds, ready to take them out. But instead of the yelling he was accustomed to when Takeshi would sneak up on Hayato, — they both swore the man did it on purpose! — he heard some shuffling and a one-sided argument between his friends.

“Idiota!” Hayato grumbled. “I apologize, Tenth. Is there anything else regarding your orders?”

It must be busier than I thought if he only cussed him out for a minute.

The Italian language made for some interesting string of insults and it always made him wonder how Hayato’s breadth of colourful vocabulary didn’t use all the air in Italy at this point.

“No, that’ll be all. Make sure to take a break as well.”

He was sure the man would die an early death from stress alone. But asking or ordering the workaholic to delegate some of his responsibilities to another person would make him even more stressed out.

“I’ll make sure he does!” Takeshi piped in. “If not, I can always take him to Ryohei.”

Tsuna heard a faint string of Italian curses before a door slammed shut.

“Hey, Tsuna!” Takeshi greeted cheerfully as if he didn’t play a part in Hayato’s daily migraines. “How’s everything holding up on your end? I hope you’re not pumping yourself full of caffeine as usual.”

“Busier than I thought but not bad so far. And I’m drinking less than I usually would.” The beans weren’t as nice here. “Did Hayato leave?”

“Yep!”

Tsuna let out an amused sigh. “Thank you for that by the way.”

Giving Division Ten lifted a heavy burden off of Hayato’s shoulders. After all, the division wasn’t just extra manpower, it was the group trained under Takeshi himself — and subsequently Squalo whenever he barged in and demanded a good spar. Without his approval, Tsuna knew Hayato would’ve spent an ungodly amount of time rearranging the schedules and responsibilities between the divisions so Basil’s mission would have the highest rate of success. That meant rearranging pre-mission training, delegating new roles and sub-leaderships, matching each group into their correct specialties and Flames, and taking stock of resources to not only match Basil’s mission but all other affected current and future missions as well — just to name the bare minimum.

“It’s fine. Rather get the job done quickly and as cleanly as possible.”

It was times like these where Tsuna could see Takeshi’s mafia blood running beneath his cheerful skin.

“Do you have a report?” Tsuna asked as he twirled the pen in his hand. “I’m guessing it’s a recent update about my situation if Hayato isn’t aware of it.” Only to a very limited extent of course.

“Sharp.” He whistled. “Yeah, Spanner told me to tell you they’ll have repairs done soon.”

“‘Soon’, in the normal sense, or…?”

“The science div’s ‘soon’.”

He sighed. So anywhere from two weeks to a month then.

“How’s life like there? Any changes?”

At his prompting, Tsuna explained in brief detail what transpired since they last spoke, including the parts where he started teaching and the difficulties of raising a young mind.

There was... an odd sense of pride and excitement welling up inside him as he described his student and the potential he saw in him.

Shoto was both born with exceptional talent and, despite the circumstances, he was hard-working. Although it was clear that Shoto wasn’t training out of his own desire, he nevertheless gave it his best shot. His Quirk strength training wasn’t much of an issue as his fire didn’t get nearly as hot as Endeavor’s or cold enough to hurt him like he saw Fuyumi's had when he first arrived here. That wasn’t to say his Quirk’s output was weak. He wasn’t sure if the reason was due to him being born into a hero household, Endeavor’s early training, or biological luck — perhaps a combination of all such possibilities — but Shoto’s elemental emissions exceeded his research.

But that was just the output. Just raw power. No control or technique. Considering Endeavor’s overzealous pursuit of strength, it was no wonder Shoto only practiced how much he could produce his Quirks at their max capacity. The boy also knew very little about fundamental physical training; from his stance, or lack thereof, Shoto only knew how to endure. Since powerful, flashy Quirks were prized talents to be born with, it didn’t surprise him to see how little Shoto knew of non-Quirk related combat. Only compared to most other people of course. Most of the evening classes comprised of Tsuna teaching Shoto basic stances, where to place his feet and arms as well as what angle to position his body to minimize recoil and self-injury.

He was tense throughout the session and although he didn’t say it, his expression and constant flinching gave him away. When Tsuna gently lowered his arm, Shoto braced himself, expecting the man to hit him. He wasn’t covering his head, most likely indicating that he’s never been hit there. Small "fortunes" he supposed. But an overwhelming sense of wrath boiled and seared Tsuna’s stomach. Perhaps it was good that he hasn’t seen Endeavor yet; even Tsuna's patience had its limits.

Thankfully, Shoto seemed to know Tsuna wasn’t out to hurt him even with the wariness that came with these circumstances. But such ingrained, learned trauma took time to overcome, or rather, to control. Tsuna made sure his body was always within Shoto’s line of vision when he approached, giving him small verbal warnings before adjusting his stance.

His movement was sloppy and he either held back from fear of judgement or overextended to fix his former mistakes. But he was a quick learner. He felt fear yet held firm. He had heard time and time again about how Shoto "wasn't at his full potential" from Endeavor. He had heard time and time again about how "gifted" Shoto was from Endeavor. He had heard time and time again that Shoto's progression was much too slow from Endeavor.

Just within two days, Tsuna saw how much Shoto could do, have done, and currently did.

And the thought of that progress, of Shoto succeeding, was exciting. It was a type of eagerness he had not felt before. It wasn't bad just... different. Similar to when he learned to ride a bike with Fuuta. Yet not exactly because it wasn't the excitement of triumph over trepidation. It was a bubbling sort of excitement welling up inside him. Something that demanded his perseverance. It wasn't by his own selfish definition of success but determined by the journey of Shoto discovering what he wanted to do, and Tsuna’s aid helping him get him there that fuelled his resolve.

Takeshi hummed, amused. “You know, you kinda sound like Reborn.”

Tsuna groaned. “And here I thought Mukuro only said such morbid things.”

Takeshi wasn’t wrong though. With Shoto, he realized why the concept of teaching out of passion existed. The discovery of raw potential, polishing their skills, and seeing their development was a privilege he was grateful for. The thought was equally as exhilarating as it was frightening.

“I finally understand why teachers go on introspective tangents now,” Tsuna mentioned.

“Oh?”

After spending time with the Todorokis, he recognized why his mentors, both the crazy ones and “normal” ones, were so introspective when they taught him. In the mafia, there were just some things that everybody knew happened — shared experiences and feelings. At a glance, you could tell what kind of experience someone had. It was not a question of what happened but rather how they could cope with it.

That being said, gaining those experiences and having a fresh new apprentice unaware and all but removed from their environment but in name like in this case, well, it felt like a sage taking a fledgling under their wing. Through their innocence you confronted your own circumstances, not to hide your student from the harsh realities but so your student could learn how to deal with such situations if they arose.

Tsuna nodded to himself. “I’ve gotten more philosophical.”

Like Fon, except in the absence of zen a “four a.m. coffee sprite with a case of imposter syndrome pretending they’re a mentally stable and responsible adult” energy filled its place.

“Eh?”

“Nevermind. How’s everyone doing?”

He hummed. “Not much to note from last time... Actually, while I’m talking about Reborn, recently he’s been… easily triggered. Literally.”

“That’s just normal Reborn.”

He heard boisterous laughter from the other side. “You’re not wrong!”

Although, if he were honest, he couldn’t even blame the man considering Reborn would’ve taken a share of the work his guardians didn’t. Or rather, he would’ve taken them to let off some steam.

“So Haya had to ban Lambo from coming into the main estate just in case you know...”

“Ten-year bazooka.”

“Got it in one.”

No doubt it wasn’t just for the safety of others — and the machine — but also for Lambo himself considering the heightened state of security. And if Lambo somehow crossed paths with Reborn during one of his fits...

“Is there something wrong or is it the usual?” Tsuna asked, putting away his notebook.

It was a rather rhetorical question. If something was seriously wrong he would’ve picked up on it.

“Well... you know Reborn has a sixth sense when it comes to you. Though I'm pretty sure he’s less worried than... agitated that he can’t do anything about it.”

Tsuna let out a low grunt, a pensive curve on his lips. “No doubt it reminds him of Kawa— Checkerface.”

“Yep, yep. But seriously though,” he said as his voice took on a level tone, “are you really okay?”

“I’m fine, promise.” He only felt guilty he couldn’t be helping his family more right now. “I haven’t met anything or anyone life-threatening.” Life-threatening? No. Annoying? Yes.

“I—” Tsuna quickly shut his mouth, hearing faint footsteps coming closer to him. And Takeshi, as sharp as ever, immediately picked up on his silence.

“Sopra.” — Above. Civilians.

He heard a little sigh of relief. “Tell me when you need anything, okay?”

Tsuna made an affirmative noise. “Take care.”

Chapter Text

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Excuse me?"

Tsuna swiftly turned the dial on his ring and pocketed his headset inside his shorts before the first knock sounded. Pushing himself off the floor, the words of his note disappeared with a flicker of Flames, hidden beneath the non-incriminating scribbles of black ink.

"Hello, Fuyumi,'' he said, opening the door.

"Hello Cielo," Fuyumi greeted, holding up a plastic bag. "Oi Ocha?"

Tsuna's eyes lit up and gestured for her to come in. She placed the bag on the table, handing a bottle to Tsuna as he pulled out a sitting cushion for her.

"Thank you," he said as he felt the drink already cooling his skin. "I forgot how humid Japanese summers can get."

"The chill was the rare one." She smiled in response as she sat. "I hope I didn't bother you."

"Just checking up on the agency." His eyes purposefully travelled towards the phone on the corner of the table as she followed his gaze. "I needed a break anyway."

He double-tapped the screen and then turned it off again when he saw some non-priority notifications.

"Anyways, how may I help you?" he asked.

"I wanted to ask if you needed anything," she said as she opened her own bottle. "I go grocery shopping every other day so if you need anything, I'll go pick it up. It's on the way so it's no trouble."

While I appreciate that…

"Actually, on that topic..."

She hummed curiously.

"If you need help preparing meals or anything, I only ask you to guide me. It must be difficult handling everything by yourself."

Fuyumi blinked owlishly before shaking her hands defensively. "You don't need to! I like to cook so it's no trouble really."

Hmm… It didn't seem like Fuyumi despised the thought of others in her kitchen. But rather this was a form of humility that shouldn't be present in a teenager — in his opinion. And her response revealed that, at least to some large extent, she was the sole cook of the house.

Tsuna wasn't just concerned with Fuyumi's workload but also not helping would surface cringy memories of his middle school self when he took the girls' work for granted during their fight against the Millefiore.

"Daily meal prep, cooking, setting up, cleaning— That's so much work though."

"Oh, no, no, no! It's really not an issue. I'm used to it — enjoy it. Besides, it’s not like I make all the meals all the time! My mother usually made the meals." — her eyes darted towards the left for a second — "I just want to lift some of the burdens off of her."

Tsuna hid a frown. Misplaced words and actions often revealed the truth.

Speaking of, he hadn't met her, their mother, yet. It wasn’t as if he was actively seeking her out but it was weird that he hadn't even passed by her in the hallway all this time. He only hoped his presence was the reason why she seemed to move through the shadows instead of his growing suspicions.

I thought it was weird they didn’t have a dedicated caretaker…

Furthermore, he hadn't even gotten a glimpse of Endeavor either. Not that he was complaining but it seemed like his stay at the Todoroki household wasn’t entirely due to the blind trust embedded in heroism. If Endeavor’s lack of physical presence but daily inquiries about his son’s training were any indication, it seemed like the Hero Association gave Endeavor some sort of important mission to sort out.

"It's still hard taking care of an extra person,” Tsuna countered. “I'm sure you’re more than capable of doing it but, please, it'll ease my mind if you'll let me help. I promise you I won't be a bother."

He'd learned firsthand how scary cooks could get — even the sweetest ones — when you couldn't keep up with the rhythm of the kitchen. He suppressed a shudder at the memory of Kikyo and Haru staring coldly at him, Enma, Byakuran, Takeshi, and Hayato for ruining yet another convection oven. In his defence, it was mostly Byakuran's goading coupled with Hayato's short temper and culinary misfortunes that were at fault.

Fuyumi looked uncertain, a small groan at the back of her throat. "I'm sure you're busy with Shoto..."

Better not tell her about the schedule then.

"I do have some time in between but…" He paused to think as if he didn't already have control over the conversational flow. "Okay. Then I can help with breakfast. I have experience cooking both Western and Eastern dishes, and I quite enjoy cooking for my own family during my pastime as well. Besides, I wake up fairly early anyway so it's no trouble."

She fiddled with the lip of the plastic labelling. "But you're our guest..."

"Yes, but I am still an adult. How about this: I'll make breakfast for the next few days and then we'll see how it goes from there, okay? Take a break and get some sleep. It's not healthy for young minds to be waking up so early."

She gave him a questioning look. “You’re not that old either.”

"I'm an exception. Underground heroes are built differently," he teased. "Seriously, a few more hours of rest helps a lot. Like I said, let's try it for a few days, okay? I’d say that’s quite reasonable," he said assertively, tapping into his “boss voice”, leaving no room for rebuttals. "Don't you?"

Was he a bit manipulative? Of course! He had adapted from the best. But manipulation was a tool, not an inherently immoral action. He supposed the more desirable term would be "persuasion" but flowery language wasn't needed within his own thoughts. Age, authority, voice, expression, tension, assurance, and the order of favours — the simplest of tactics always worked wonders.

Tsuna smiled — one full of kindness but a sort of kindness that felt like an immovable, unrelenting wall — as he waited for her confirmation.

"I" — she fiddled with the bottle in her hands, finding no room for refusal — "...Okay," she said, still uncertain.

The rest of the time before Fuyumi left was full of Tsuna's countless reassurances that, yes, he was more than capable and willing to do the task. 

When Fuyumi got up that morning, she was pleasantly surprised about the nice breakfast laid out for two on the table. Opening the silicone food covers, she was greeted with fluffy white rice, warm miso soup, sunomono, and tamagoyaki that were not the best looking or as sweet as the ones she made, but nevertheless, it was still delicious.

Honestly, she didn't expect so much. That wasn't a premature assessment of Cielo's abilities but... awe that someone cared enough to do so. For her, not just her youngest brother.

Looking around, she saw that the pans and utensils were drying on the rack and the countertop was spotless. She left Shoto's breakfast on the opposite side of hers knowing that, although their morning schedules rarely ever matched, he would be up before the food got cold. Even if he didn't, the stepstool she brought out would match Shoto's height to the microwave.

Fuyumi silently thanked Cielo for the meal and dug in, scrolling through her phone as she ate.

She had almost forgotten the taste of a home-cooked meal that wasn't hers.

Chapter Text

Three training dummies stood before him. The central one in front of him and the other two some distance away, connected to the former with tightly woven mix-fibre wool ropes to slow the flame velocity. The goal was to light the left one on fire before it reached the right.

Shoto took a deep breath and placed his left hand on the training dummy again, twitching as he heard the familiar crackling of fire enveloping his left side. The flammable centre of the dummy burned brightly, the fire splitting into two as it travelled both sides of the ropes.

The fire gnawed at the fibres at around the same speed — like. the. last. five. times.

Shoto squinted and gritted his teeth, digging his fingers deeper into the dummy, his flames prickling wildly on his skin. He had to remind himself that, as Cielo said, it was impossible for the first rope to not catch on fire and to focus on making the second burn faster than the former. That's it. Don't try to "not make the first rope catch on fire", but just "make the second one burn faster". Just to use his Quirk like he's always been doing.

And finally, on the sixth try, both ropes still burned at the same pace.

I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. Why can't I do this? — he thought bitterly — I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this.

“Stop.”

Shoto flinched, embers scattering in the air as he heard his tutor's voice.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tsuna quickly added as he snuffed out the flames with the fire extinguisher. “Remember when I said I wanted to know how you felt when you used your Quirks? What did you feel just now?”

He weaved his hands together, staring at the floor. “I dunno… Hot here and heeere and here.”

He pointed towards his left arm, his finger gliding over his skin to his torso, and finally up to his left cheek.

“Not physically. Did you feel scared? Nervous?”

Shoto quickly looked away. “I— I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Are all Todorokis this poor at concealing their feelings? He supposed it better for him though.

“It’s okay. I just want to make… sure...” Tsuna trailed off, a new realization eating through his skull.

What if... What if he was looking at this wrong? Or rather, narrow-mindedly?

Am I... personifying his Quirks?

Although Flames weren’t personality-based, there were still characteristics of each Flame that a user would feel. For example, a Sky like himself felt boundless when he used his Flames — like as if he took in the eyes of the sky itself, without a body to tie him down in an ever-expanding consciousness. Yet, he still felt very mortal.

It was up to the user themselves for what that feeling translated into. Sometimes that vastness of mind translated into empathy. Other times that weightlessness was filled with megalomania. Clarity into responsibility, infinity to insanity.

It was not his intention to apply his universal axioms here. In the pursuit of research, he forgot he was still dealing with a child. No, rather, because he was dealing with a child, he forgot the very basics. Although he was sure Quirks, or rather Shoto’s Quirks, were influenced by his emotions to some degree, his “I don’t know”-s weren’t just said due to his stunted social and emotional growth; it was Tsuna unintentionally imposing his own confirmation bias on the boy's responses.

His own fears of failure manifested into coddling Shoto.

Sono un idiota del cazzo! Four days! For four days I misunderstood!

Tsuna quickly masked his shame as his mind growled at him. There was ample time to berate himself for it later and he didn’t want Shoto to misinterpret his expressions as anything against the boy.

“I’ve been asking some confusing questions, I’m sorry about that,” Tsuna said.

Shoto nodded.

I need more concrete subjects.

Deep in thought, Tsuna motioned for him to take a break, handing him his water bottle which Shoto took with a small “thank you.”

“I didn’t mean to confuse you,” Tsuna said as he readjusted his sleeves. “You're doing really well. I know it's frustrating not getting the results you want. But you're getting better."

Shoto stared at the dummies and then looked back at him.

"Remember when you first started? With one dummy?"

He nodded curiously.

"And you set the entire thing on fire instead of just the centre target?"

He winced, shame creeping up his ears.

"Hey, hey, hey," Tsuna said before Shoto went into a self-deprecating spiral. "That's progress! Of course, you're going to fail when the challenges get more difficult. That's natural. I don't know a single successful person who didn't fail more than they accomplished. Training is always harder at the beginning. But push through that frustration and remind yourself that with each attempt, you're better than you were before."

"Did you fail a lot too?" Shoto asked.

"Of course," Tsuna replied, slightly surprised. It wasn't often Shoto asked questions. Progress! "I failed at so many things. I've made more mistakes than there are stars in the sky!" His voice took on a more sombre tone, "but I always remind myself that failing isn't the end." For better and for worse. "Anyways," he said more cheerfully, "it helps when other people say it too. So don't worry about the number of attempts it'll take you, okay? You can do it. You're a quick learner and I can tell you put effort into your training."

Shoto stared at the dummies. Skepticism and insecurity radiating off of him. There was no confirmation but it wasn't a rejection either. And that was already better than before when Shoto would doubt his words outright.

"What are your goals, Shoto?” Tsuna asked.

“To surpass All Might?” he answered, shuffling his feet.

“Well, that’s certainly your father’s goal for you.” He hid the disdain from his voice quite well. “How about you? You said you wanted to be a hero like All Might, right?”

Shoto’s gaze fell to the bottle clasped between his fingers, the condensation pooling between the cool surface of the metallic bottle and his skin.

Tsuna observed with a trained eye as Shoto, either unconsciously or by muscle memory, alternated from solidifying the condensation and evaporating it. There was a bit of frost coating the metal — a little less than a centimetre — from his right hand while the metal near his left hand held larger water droplets. Although, before the heavy condensation dropped to the floor, the frost caught it, hanging small bumpy icicles at the bottom of the bottle.

Subconscious control… It is his body after all so he must’ve learned how to regulate his own body temperature and the smaller parts of his environment naturally.

Currently, it wasn’t a combative feature but useful for his own safety and comfort. Although it did show him that Shoto held greater cryokinetic and pyrokinetic powers than he assumed.

The tips of Tsuna’s fingers turned white. Fortunately, his bottle wasn’t made of flimsy plastic.

Endeavor, how did you manage to pay so much yet so little attention to your own damn “prodigy”?

Or perhaps his overbearing ambitions imposed on Shoto blinded him to the smaller yet nevertheless still important matters.

“All Might's really cool,” Shoto replied, another bump forming at the bottom. “Mom smiled when she saw him. A—And Natsuo really likes All Might. And Fuyumi too. But father...”

Before his face soured, Tsuna cut in, “do you want to be a hero, Shoto? Or do you want to help people?”

He looked up at him with a tilt of his head.

“Heroes do help people,” Tsuna clarified, “but sometimes, some heroes help people because it’s their jobs and they need to make money. They aren’t heroes because they want to help people or make them happy.”

Not that he judged people in those circumstances, of course, as long as their positive impacts outweighed their own ambitions.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Tsuna continued, “people need money to live and support their loved ones. But I’m sure you know that not all heroes are good like All Might.”

“Father,” he muttered under his breath. He frowned and shook his head. “I don't want to be like him.”

Tsuna kept his face neutral. Well, looks like that answered a part of his question.

“Do you want to make people happy?”

He nodded shamefully. “I can’t—”

“You can.”

Tsuna pushed himself off the wall and crouched near Shoto. Close, but enough to give him ample space between them.

“There is so much good you can do, Shoto. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I am short.”

“Not like— I mean, don’t think badly of yourself. I can see all the good you can do and all the happiness you can bring.”

He gasped. “You have another Quirk?”

Oh Lord, he’s so earnest.

“No, it’s just my intuition— my thoughts and feelings. Trust me, I’m your tutor.”

“Do all tutors have this power?” he asked without a hint of sarcasm.

The Acrobalenos certainly do.

“Not all but when I have a hard-working student like you, it’s easy to see how amazing you are and can be. But! That also takes effort and practice. So" — he clasped his hands — "let’s get back to training. We’ll continue working on your Quirk dexterity.”

“How I use and shape my Quirk?” Shoto piped in.

Tsuna nodded and a proud glint appeared in Shoto’s eyes that he failed to hide.

“And in the afternoon, we’ll switch over to Quirk strength training.”

“How much I can get my Quirk out.”

“Correct! See? You’re a fast learner, Shoto.”

The glint became brighter.

Tsuna couldn't help but smile. “Oh, that's right. Before I forget since we don't have classes on weekends, I'm going to give you something you can practice on your own later. Do you mind reminding me after our afternoon class just in case I forget?"

He wouldn't but he remembered that giving small responsibilities to children boosted their confidence and fostered their sense of responsibility. And even if Shoto forgot, Tsuna could always nudge him into remembering as he frequently did with Lambo.

"Okay," Shoto replied.

"I trust you."

Shoto blinked then nodded seriously as if Tsuna had entrusted him to guard a precious jewel.

Tsuna had to hold back a laugh. He had to be the most earnest child he's ever met!

"Alright. Let's get back to training. Remember to tell me if you want a break, okay?”

Shoto nodded with a little more enthusiasm Tsuna just barely caught.

Chapter Text

Shoto let out a disgruntled groan, plopping the semi-opaque ball on the seating cushion between his folded legs. He sank to the floor next to the ball, rolling onto his back and sprawling out his limbs like a starfish. Unconsciously, he lifted his right arm and touched his left cheek to cool himself down. It was less due to the humid weather and more so a habit of his when he was frustrated or angry — like looking away when someone made eye contact with him.

I can’t do this.

He wrapped his head with his arms. What did Cielo say this musty feeling where he wanted to cry and run away was?

“Frustration?” he muttered to himself, the syllables coming surprisingly easily to him.

Yes, he thinks it was called “frustration”. It was nice placing a name to this all too familiar feeling. He’s learned a lot of new words, both directly and indirectly, from Cielo.

He slowly rolled over to his side and glared at the ball mocking him. Cielo had given him this weird — and what Shoto would describe as a “hard cloud” — ball to train with for the weekend yesterday. He vaguely recalls the hero saying this was made of an “ae-ro-gel compound”?

It was commissioned specifically for Shoto, quickly created from quality, non-toxic materials using Endeavor’s influence and name. The sphere was mostly translucent but opaque in a way where it seemed like there was a cloudy, coloured filter when he looked through the ball — like a heat-resistant hamster ball of sorts.

There was an opening at the “top” of the ball, marked with a red ring around the hole. Inside, there was a curved tunnel with one path branching out in the middle of the sphere like an overly simplified version of an anthill. At the end of the path, there was a reusable kindling and a mechanism to cut off the air supply by sliding in a cover with a small trigger adjacent to the opening. Similarly, at the end of the branching path, there was another, smaller kindling and a similar mechanism to cut off the air supply with its trigger also at the top.

The challenge was to control his flames enough to light the kindling at the end of the tunnel without catching the branching path’s kindling on fire. He had unfortunately not been able to light the final one without setting the other one off.

He didn't even know if he could do it! The training dummy exercise was going nowhere—

Progressing — a familiar voice inside his mind supplied. The exercise was progressing. Slowly, at a snail's pace, but nevertheless progressing.

He didn't completely believe the voice but Cielo was a tutor with tutor powers so he had to know better, right?

The purpose of this exercise was to control his flames better because Shoto replied too much on creating mass amounts of fire without any finesse. Like a screech instead of a song.

Of course, the hero framed it in a much nicer way.

Cielo gave him the “level two” ball because he said he said the “level one” ball was too easy for him. The “level one” ball was similar except the tunnel was much wider and it lacked the branching path, making it easy to stuff his flames until it reached the kindle.

At first, Shoto took Cielo’s comment as saying that he was just that weak. That he was unexpected to be competent because he was Shoto.

Shoto, who was always told that he “had so much potential” but he “wasn’t there yet”. Well? Well, then when would he get “there”? Where was “there”? If he had that much potential, shouldn’t he be “there” by now? He heard his father mutter that Toya could do it. Why couldn’t he? Why couldn’t he do anything? Why was he so weak? Why was being “there” so important? Would finally reaching “there” stop training? Would finally reaching “there” let him play with his siblings? Would finally reaching “there” make mom happy?

But it was as if Cielo could sense his parasitic thoughts because he stopped him. He always stopped him and his thoughts. He reassured him. He reassured him that he was impressed he was so strong. That he was doing so much more than he thought. That he was a “quick learner”. That they would work on this together. That it was okay to fail. It was okay to mess up because he would always have another chance.

It was the presentness of Cielo’s words that made his mind stir. While his father was already running down a path Shoto had no say in, Cielo was crouched next to him. Cielo pointed out another path he could take. Then another. Then another. They weren’t as paved and polished as the one his father took for him but they were paths nevertheless. 

Perhaps that’s why he didn’t feel like he was losing his breath “catching up” to his expectations. Perhaps that’s why despite the similar things he and his father said, Shoto didn’t… hate training with him. He didn’t like it but it wasn’t bad. Training wasn’t bad. Just… frustrating.

Shoto didn’t like to fail but he himself expected to. But it was the first time in a long while — he thinks — he wanted to get back up and keep going? When he felt frustrated with his father, he wanted to run away. But feeling frustrated now, motivated him to be better. So he could be praised. So he can turn Cielo's words from encouragement to reality.

It was still weird though. He still had so many feelings he had yet to identify.

Shoto sat on his knees, scooting himself right next to the ball. He picked it up, a bubbling sense of… expectation? — he wasn’t sure — humming inside him, guiding him to try again.

Chapter Text

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

If Tsuna was any less of a man, he would’ve choked and spat out his coffee. Instead, he placed the cup down on the saucer and folded his hands together as if he didn’t just scald his tongue like a complete buffoon trying to tempt fate by sipping at the edges for half a minute.

“Come again?” he asked as if he didn’t feel hell’s wrath biting his tongue.

Fuyumi, unknowing of Tsuna’s pain, looked away bashfully. She took a small breath before gathering up some confidence.

“Can I please shadow you for a lesson?” Fuyumi repeated. “I’ve seen you with Natsuo and I’d really like to learn from you. If father hired you for Shoto, then you must be an amazing teacher!”

Or... your father has different standards for what constitutes a good teacher. And she certainly isn’t shy about creating opportunities, good.

Also, that was one more puzzle piece he got. If Fuyumi wanted to shadow him, why not take it up with her father? Considering the man’s investment in Shoto, wouldn’t asking for parental permission be at the forefront? Was it because she couldn’t or didn't want to? Was it out of courtesy to him? Or did she already ask Endeavor? Probably not. Considering what Natsuo all but outright said, Endeavor seemed to isolate Shoto even from his own family — excluding their mother. Tsuna only thought Fuyumi would be different considering how much responsibility she seemed to take.

Natsuo's letter weighed heavily on his mind. He planned to give it to Shoto sometime next week instead of his first week here so he didn't bombard the boy with new information and so Tsuna would have time to observe and learn about him. He had a feeling building rapport with him was of more importance due to their delicate family situation.

Furthermore, her last comment, “If father hired you for Shoto,” implied uncertainty. Which then implied that she and Shoto were not as close as he thought. After all, if they were close, she would’ve surely talked about it from her brother's perspective, not her father’s, considering how involved she was in Natsuo’s life.

Anyways, it wasn’t like Tsuna was opposed to helping Fuyumi but...

“You flatter me, but I’ve never formally taught anyone. My only experience as a home tutor would be my own from when I was younger.”

He’d rather not have her see him as incompetent and a bumbling idiot. Especially since she’s actually worked with real teachers.

Please, child, spare him from embarrassing himself in front of you.

“Your own?" She leaned over slightly. "Wow, he must’ve been an amazing tutor!”

Tsuna sucked in a breath through his teeth, unable to hide his true feelings. He lifted his cup back to his mouth, mumbling out a “sure.”

Her shoulders shrunk in. “Oh, I’m sorry—”

Tsuna waved his hand. “No need to apologize.”

“It’s just— never mind.”

He raised a brow. “Don’t worry about offending me, you won’t.”

Fuyumi pondered for a few seconds before speaking. “I didn’t mean to sound invasive. It’s just that… When you spoke about your mentor, you looked happy? Well, maybe not exactly happy but—”

“—fond?” he finished.

She nodded.

Tsuna’s hand wandered over to his mouth. Huh, I wonder if I'm getting too comfortable or if she’s that observant.

“You’re not wrong,” he said as gently twirled his cup. “Not all my lessons left ‘good’ memories. But, well, while his lessons may have been… proactive… I owe him a great deal. In the end, he was and still is a trusted advisor and friend.”

“A friend…?” she muttered, trailing off.

He hummed, prompting her to continue.

“It’s just that most of the teachers I worked under said ‘not to make friends with the students.’ So it was interesting hearing it from the other side.”

“Well...” Tsuna took a sip. “I wouldn’t exactly say they’re wrong.   What do you think?”

“Me?” Fuyumi said, caught slightly off guard. “Oh, um … I really like connecting with my students. I want to be someone they can rely on to talk to and help them work through their problems. Obviously, I won’t force them to or anything like that!” She weaved her hands, pressing her thumbs together. “I’d like to have a good relationship with them.”

“I don’t see an issue with that.” Tsuna placed the cup down, turning his body towards her. “I’m aware that many East Asian schools discourage friendship among teachers and students. And while I agree to some extent, what you described is appropriate. What you want is to build a mutual relationship based on trust and respect, not through abusing power dynamics — which is the issue that the board of education faces. As long as you give the appropriate respect to a person’s boundaries, you’re fine.”

Fuyumi had a contemplative look, before nodding.

“Thank you, Cielo.” She bowed her head.

“I didn’t say anything new.”

She pushed her glasses up. “Talking with you clears up things.”

“Again with the flattery?” he teased. “It helps to have second opinions or to listen to an outsider sometimes. Although I understand the fear of relying on others, it’s something I’m still working on myself.”

“Is that why you work alone?” she winced a little at her bluntness.

Looks like it runs in the family —  Tsuna thought amusedly.

“I have an agency under my name and amazing employees,” he deflected.

“But you don’t have sidekicks, right?”

“I didn’t plan on taking in apprentices at all actually. This,” he gestured with his hand, “is an exception. And while I work independently in the most active sense, I depend on others for so many important matters such as information, scouting, domestic management, and communications — just to name a few. And that’s not even including maintenance and service like electricians, plumbing, cooking, and such ‘mundane’ jobs that often get overlooked. Without them, I wouldn’t have the liberty to work as freely as I do now.”

“I never thought about that. I mean, I knew but I guess I never thought about it actively so much.”

“No one’s truly alone in this world — for better and for worse. Especially in this era of heroes, sometimes, good folk are left unnoticed. Well, that's not exclusive to this era but my point still stands. A billboard hero may save people from petty theft to larger crimes but who took care of those heroes? Who raised them? Fed them? Paved the road they walk on? Made the clothes they wear? Cleaned the streets they protect? And then who fed and raised those people who help pro heroes? It isn't other pros. It's the guardians, the community, the labourers, the artisans — the educators,” Tsuna added with a waggish tone. He traced the rim of his cup, letting out an amused breath. “Sorry, I found that I've gotten much more introspective lately.”

“No, no, no. It’s interesting hearing another teacher’s and hero’s perspective.”

Oh?

“Speaking of perspective, do you mind if I asked some questions about your Quirk? I’d like a solid reference for Shoto. And usually, familial Quirks are better predictors than a stranger’s. Although, please feel free to pass if it seems invasive.”

Fuyumi nodded and started talking about her Quirk until the end of his break.

Diversion success!

Chapter Text

Shoto woke up with a sharp breath as he clutched his blankets. Eyes blinking wide, it took a minute for his breathing to even as he slowly sat up. His hand inched under his pillow, grasping his pen for some semblance of comfort. He took a note of his surroundings. His desk, the furniture, the doors, floor, and walls were all still there. He pulled his hand out under this pillow, clutching the pen near his chest.

It was there. It was still with him.

A moment later, he got up and opened his desk drawer — his safe space — and hid the pen under the crumpled paper where his treasures lied. 

He couldn’t remember why his heart raced — why he could still hear the soft beating in his ears. It didn’t feel like a nightmare but maybe close to one? After all, that chill raking down his spine wasn’t there and placing his hands on his cheeks, he found it was dry. But the dream definitely wasn't pleasant either. He felt no fear or pain yet his heart raced like running prey. He felt heavy like his whole body was anchoring his heart, his intestines becoming coils of rusted metal.

He glanced at his desk, which now — he had noticed — had the infuriating ball lying on top of it.

Feeling a little parched, he made his bed before quietly moving towards the kitchen.

It was dark outside, only the crickets chirping in his ears. That is until he saw a sliver of light peeking through the kitchen door, the voice of his older sister becoming clearer as he approached.

Shoto froze for a moment before sliding towards the wall. He slid the door a few centimetres and shut his eyes from the blinding light. Taking a moment to adjust, he opened it just enough to see his sister near the counter piled with produce and packaged goods with squinting eyes. It sounded like she was talking to someone — a female voice maybe — he’s never heard before. Not that he's heard any of Fuyumi's friends before. He just assumed his sister had a lot of friends because she was nice. It was hard to tell through the crinkling of plastic. He couldn’t make out the words either, the leaked muffles reaching his ears when his sister readjusted her earbuds.

He wasn’t noticed.

“He’s not a big-name hero,” he overheard his sister say. “I can’t tell you his name.”

Cielo?

She groaned half-heartedly.

“No, not even his real name— I don’t even know it.”

A long pause.

“Yeah, he’s really nice and Natsuo likes him a lot. He spent his entire time glued to him. Yeah, I was surprised too! I know heroes are supposed to like people but taking care of someone else’s kid is a whole other story.” 

She's talking about Cielo.

A pause. A sound of affirmation.

“Honestly, the only time Natsuo wasn’t proclaiming he was ‘his hero’ and ‘his friend’ was when he was eating or sleeping. Even then I’m sure he mumbled something about him. I feel really bad since he had to babysit Natsuo his whole stay.”

A friend...

Shoto played with the hem of his shirt, listening to the funny things his big brother and Cielo did; she talked about how generous the man was to earnestly entertain Natsuo for so long. Climbing trees, going to the park, piggybacks — although he didn’t know what that was he was sure it was some kind of fun activity, maybe going to a farm? —, trips to the store and to the beach… He even heard how his brother bragged to anyone or anything with the ability to hear how he got to “title” Cielo.

He gulped, biting the inside of his lips to force down a smile.

A friend...

It seemed fun.

To play with his brother, the things the two did — it seemed like a lot of fun.

A friend...

Maybe he could ask Cielo if they could play as Natsuo did? The hero was nice and he said it was okay for him to ask him stuff.

Ignore them, Shoto. They live in a different world than I’m training you for.

...no.

No, it wasn’t like he could anyways. Cielo had to listen to his father. Shoto had to listen to his father.

…

…

...

But...

But... maybe?

Shoto swallowed that weird feeling bubbling up his throat. It wasn’t resentment or that ugly unfairness he felt when his father took him by the arm while his siblings were playing — no, although he didn't know what to call those emotions besides hatred, he knew such feelings well. This was a newer feeling that’s been building up recently. A feeling derived from and for his older brother. A feeling like cotton stuffed in his lungs, a feeling that etched its way into his head, a feeling which festered like boiling acid in his stomach.

It was a feeling that made him think: what if? What if he wasn’t born like this but more like his siblings? What if he could do as much as his eldest brother could?

Was this “frustration” again? No, not exactly… Then what was this?

He shook his head, balling up his hands near his chest. He didn’t like these gross, clammy feelings — especially not towards his brother. It made him feel shameful for having such feelings in the first place.

“What!?” Fuyumi’s hushed outburst snapped him out of his thoughts.

“That’s not the point! Okay yes but— Um… W—Well...”

Shoto peeked through the crack, hoping to see what was going on, never hearing his sister stumble over her words before.

“I mean...yeah he’s... attractive… No, not just his face but he’s really nice and— No. It’s just admiration! We're not five, give me a break.”

Her friend’s laughter was loud enough to reach his ears. He would've thought her friend was being mean and making fun of her if not for Fuyumi's amused tone and ease.

It was, again, the first time he'd seen her like this. She felt... younger somehow. Less like mom. But not like father — mean — but different. 

“Stop it!” Fuyumi groaned. “No, I’m not going to send you a picture.”

Why did his sister’s friend want a picture of Cielo? Was she a part of the news? He heard his father often grumble about the bad news people.

“Seriously? Are you seriously teasing me about hero crushes? There’s footage of you absolutely thirsting over Gang Orca on J-Star Heroes Live.”

Did her friend give him a cup of water? Or did the hero give her friend one? He remembered overhearing Gang Orca was a hero who needed “hy-dra-tion” on the news. He looked kind of scary but not like father-scary. But more like an unfamiliar-scary.

Regardless, Shoto didn’t understand what that meant but it nevertheless made his sister laugh. Laugh in a way he’s never heard before.

Shoto patiently waited until their conversation was over, leaning against the wall as his sister and her friend started talking about things he couldn’t keep up with. However, about five minutes later, to what seemed like thirty to him, he slowly slid open the door.

Fuyumi flinched, turning her head when she felt the rumble of the door sliding open. Shoto rubbed his eyes again from the light.

“Hold on,” she said as she placed her earbud in the apron pocket. “Why are you up?”

“Water,” he replied.

She nodded and reached for a cup, filling it with water. Meanwhile, he pulled out the dining chair — lifting it up slightly so it wouldn’t make a noise when it slid out — and waited patiently. Although he preferred sitting at the kotatsu, like during the winter months with his mother, he liked the way his legs dangled off the chair. It felt like he was swimming.

Or so he thinks at least. It’s been a long time since he went to the beach. It was for training but his father was called into action for a few hours because of a series of coordinated attacks from villains. "Bad timing" — he remembers his father saying. It was nice for him though. Good timing — Shoto thought.

His brother was there. Mom too. His sister was… not there. Maybe school? Friends? He couldn’t remember. But he remembered the memory being fun because mom allowed him to play for a bit with his brother.

Fuyumi placed the cup in front of him as he thanked her, emptying about half the contents before giving it back to her. Shoto placed his chin on the table, which reached to his shoulders sitting down, and watched her as she rinsed the cup.

“You should go back to bed,” Fuyumi said as she placed the cup on the drying rack.

He wanted to stay.

“Okay.” He got up and pushed the chair back in.

He looked back as she fished her pocket for her earbud. Sliding the door open she softly called out his name.

“Good night, Shoto.”

He made an affirming noise at the back of his throat but paused just as he was about to close the door.

“Fuyumi?” he muttered.

“Huh? Hold on.” Fuyumi took out her earbud again. “Shoto? Are you still thirsty?”

He shook his head. He glanced at the door. Maybe he should just leave? But by the time he looked back at her, she was in front of him. She crouched near him, her phone in her pocket. Full attention given to him. Yet not scary. Never scary.

“It’s okay, you can tell me anything,” she said in a familiar tone.

“How do you make friends?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Eh?”

Shoto tucked his chin into his shirt, weaving his fingers together. He swallowed.

“How do you make friends?” he said, his voice gradually trailing off.

Fuyumi recovered quickly, racking her brain on how to make friends. It wasn’t like there were instructions for such things! Even the friends she had now were her friends because... of reasons she couldn’t remember!

“O—Oh. Well, first you need to spend some time together and get to know them.”

“Get to know them?” Shoto questioned.

“Like... ask them about what they like, don’t like, maybe what they like to do. And then share what you don’t like and like too. Maybe you’ll share some common ground.”

“Common ground?”

“Things you both agree on and can talk about. It’s okay if you don’t share a common ground though, don’t worry too much about it.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “So I ask them stuff and get to know them? And I get a friend?”

“It may take some time,” she quickly added, starting to piece the clues together. “Just be you, Shoto.”

That wouldn’t work.

“Okay,” he said, still thoroughly confused.

All he had to do was just ask questions about the other person, right? That seemed easy enough. That last part sounded unconvincing though. But Fuyumi had lots of friends, he presumed, and she was his older sister. She must know a lot!

“No need to overthink it,” she said as she patted his head.

He nodded.

“Good night, Shoto.”

He nodded again.

Shoto closed the door, the last thing he heard being his sister talking about some sort of “trip” happening soon.

Chapter Text

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap… tap.

Tap.

“Christ, finally, I’m finished.” Tsuna let out a sigh of relief, stretching his arms and back.

He had just revised and sent the weekly report to Endeavor, noting the progress he was making with Shoto’s training. Sure, it was almost noon but Tsuna had a lot to process.

Speaking of, it was odd that he hadn't even seen a glimpse of the man. Again, it wasn't like he wanted to of course — small blessings came in many forms. But considering his strange obsession with Shoto’s growth, Tsuna expected to contend with Endeavor’s presence on top of teaching. So either Endeavor placed his trust in Tsuna's pro hero title or…

It's a high-priority covert operation. It would explain the lack of communication. Or perhaps Endeavor thought having an at-home tutor was enough to add some more hours into his career. He's heard from Hayato that wealthy children usually had nannies or caretakers in place of parental attention.

Well, it wasn’t like whatever the Hero Association gave Endeavor involved him. His duty, for now, was to stay alive, look out for any further signals from the Vongola, and teach Shoto.

The report wasn’t much but he did gauge Shoto’s strengths and weaknesses well enough to progress with some basic fighting stances and cryokinesis. Shoto had an easier time controlling his ice than his fire — although even then his “control” was limited to the size of the ice crystals he formed. And even then, his crystals were rough and jagged. Tsuna wasn't expecting the child to make a swan out of ice but that zero to a hundred mentality had to be worked on. And that mentality was no better demonstrated by his fire. And it was honestly a juggle between working on what Shoto knew and trying to unlearn what he knew.

Still, it was only from a stroke of luck and experience that Shoto knew how to use his Quirks and had the capacity to control it because Tsuna really dug himself in a corner considering he didn’t even know how using Quirks felt like. At most, he could try to compare it to his Flames but that held severe limitations. Flames were inherently a “supernatural” force within humans and as far as he knew Quirks were biological.

He also guessed that Shoto was probably feeling annoyed and confused as to why his teacher was asking him so many questions — as opposed to the physical training Endeavor placed him through — but he wanted to gauge how Shoto felt to minimize potential injuries and to see how he can better help him. He just had to tone it down a little and give Shoto some space to process instead of bombarding him with words outside his repertoire.

But for now, he wanted to get the boy’s self-confidence up. Shoto was, for a lack of a better word, young. Although that statement was obvious, it meant a little more considering his family situation. Now, he was no expert on developmental psychology but Shoto seemed both emotionally “mature” and stunted.

The former was seen through his controlled albeit limited body language and expressions in front of people — especially an adult. It reminded him of himself when he was a child, after Nono's seal but before he gave up and became “no-good Tsuna”. It was the hyper-awareness that came with having to grow up faster than others and usually, that correlated with cynicism and despondence with oneself and the world. Although at this age, Shoto was much more sensitive than he was and whether that was because of their situations or because he was sealed didn’t really matter.

But the latter was from his age. Although Shoto was emotionally mature— no, emotionally sensitive to gauge people’s emotions and choose the “ideal” action — which was quite disheartening in itself — he lacked the emotional awareness to see positively inwards. He acted in a matter which benefited the other person the most; it was not out of free will but because he had to bear the emotional burden of catering to his own father. It was like that for Natsuo, it was like that for Fuyumi, and perhaps even their own mother. And yet, this emotional “maturity” was detrimental to a child’s growth. In this environment, a child like Shoto only knew of surface-level sympathy — an “appease others otherwise it’s my fault” type of mentality.

From his observations, Shoto only thought in extremes. If someone was happy, he saw it as “safe.” When someone was angry or annoyed, the burden fell onto him to “fix” it or meld into the walls. It didn’t matter if the initial problem lied with him or not — only that Shoto was desperate to appease the other person. He acted how he was expected to be acting. He spoke only when spoken to. He thought only of others and less likely for the happiness of himself.

It was survival, not living.

He got through Shoto a bit from their lessons but it was painfully obvious that years of compounding expectations from his father weighed heavily upon his shoulders. And by observing the family dynamics, it didn’t seem like his mother was there to support him. Perhaps she once was considering Shoto's positive opinion of her versus his anxious one of his father’s. But that didn’t matter. Right now, Shoto was living in nothing but the echoes of the memories of his family.

Tsuna sighed. He really didn’t like getting involved in another family’s personal matters — not that he was ever given a choice. Family dynamics were hard to gauge accurately with all its nuances. And sometimes people didn’t want outsiders to mettle in their affairs no matter how bad things got. It could’ve been out of pride, shame, guilt, fear, or delusion. Fuyumi, although not aggressive with her actions, came to mind. And sometimes — most times — direct confrontation without time, trust, and a plan exacerbated the situation. And even worse, fuelled the victims' distrust in getting aid.

But he couldn’t just ignore it either. Not when he had the power to do something. Not fix, never to fix. That would be too presumptuous. But aid. Give them the push to change the trajectory of the boulder rolling down the mountain because even a one-eyed bat could see the crockpot of trauma and frustration stewing within the Todoroki household.

Focus. First things first: Shoto needs to learn how to communicate his feelings with his words.

It was a difficult task, not even his own guardians figured out how to do it. Then again, perhaps a child would be much easier. 

I need a way for him to tell me what he’s thinking instead of what he thinks I want from him.

He had planned to give Natsuo's letter to him around the end of next week as not to overwhelm him and because he planned to work on his ice Quirk then. Because no matter what was written in the letter, it couldn't be bad considering how Natsuo looked. But perhaps it would be better to expedite the delivery to give him some stable ground to land on in this house.

Tsuna strummed his fingers on the table before turning on his phone, consulting the numerous tabbed pages on childhood education.

Chapter Text

For the first time in a while, Tsuna was actually surprised.

Placing his water bottle to the side, he stared at Shoto. Out of all the questions he thought he’d ask during this session that was not it.

Asking how training with him will be? Obvious.

Asking him about his homework assignment? No brainer.

Asking how to use his Quirks and fight ”Quirkless” at the same time? Heavily overlooked in this world but still in line.

This?

“Repeat that for me?”

Shoto’s gaze fell to the floor, taking only quick glances at him to make sure he wasn’t mad or annoyed.

“What do you like?” he mumbled.

Tsuna’s eyes lit up.

He had heard him the first time but he never expected Shoto to gain such interest in him. He did notice how oddly his student was behaving the today but he chalked it up to his natural diffidence. Tsuna didn’t know what sparked this but hell as if he wasn’t going to use this opportunity! And perhaps, if the stars aligned, he could complete what he set out to do here in the first place.

“I like a lot of things. Can you specify? Do you mean hobbies? Location? Food?”

“Yes.”

Good thing he had ample experience communicating with socially awkward people.

“Well, I like to take walks outside and observe my surroundings. The world’s an interesting place. For location, I like just about anywhere that’s quiet and peaceful. Hmm… I have lots of food I like: tamagoyaki is always good, bulgogi is great, Salisbury steak is my favourite — although braciola is a very close second.”

Especially when it was served by Xanxus’s chefs — the ones that managed to stay of course. It wasn’t as complex and “high end” as other dishes the man usually made them cook but according to Squalo, on the days it was prepared, it was one of the rare times he saw his boss mellow out a bit.

Realizing he was going into a food haze, he swallowed and quickly turned the conversation around. “...and a lot more. How about you, Shoto?”

“Um…! I like food!”

Lost in the various unknown words Cielo had said coupled with not expecting to have the question thrown back at him, Shoto panicked.

And yet, somehow, he was still a better conversationalist than Kyoya.

“You like dark chocolate, right?” he asked smoothly.

He nodded.

“Glad I remembered correctly! What else do you like?”

“Um… food that Fuyumi makes and mom made and soba. Cold soba is really good.”

He hummed. “I see, you’re fond of Japanese food.”

“Fond?”

“It means ‘like’. You like — are fond of — Japanese food, right?”

“I think so. I like the food Fuyumi makes and mom made.” He paused, shuffling through his memories. “And I like your food.”

Inner Tsuna was cheering louder than an English pub during football season. He was making so much progress! Although that sentiment was slightly dampened by his word choice.

He nodded very professionally. “Thank you, Shoto. I’m glad you like my food. It’s no comparison to your sister’s though.”

He only wished he could lessen her burden more if he wasn’t busy. Turns out student plans took much more time to develop than he initially thought and he refused to do a half-ass job.

“Have you tried Western food? From my memory, your sister prefers cooking Japanese or mixed-Japanese dishes.”

He shrugged. “Are the foods you said Western food?”

“Some of it, yes.”

“No.”

“Shame. Would you like to try some? I know some recipes that you may like.” He only knew how to make simple things but… “Have you had pancakes before?”

He shook his head.

Huh. That’s actually kind of surprising.

Tsuna took out his phone from his side pocket, thankful that he knew of Shoto’s dietary restrictions. He clicked on the nicest picture he could find and turned the screen towards Shoto.

“It looks like dorayaki but with no anko,” Shoto commented. “I like dorayaki. Fuyumi got me some a long time ago.”

“Hopefully you’ll like this too then. It’s a sweet, fluffy cake of sorts. There’s a variety I especially like called soufflé pancakes.” He brought up another picture. “It’s fluffy and sweet, like eating clouds! I can make some for tomorrow.”

Tsuna smiled as Shoto gulped, excitement swimming in his eyes. Like his siblings, especially Natsuo, they hid their excitement by pressing their lips together trying — and failing — to suppress their bubbling joy. If eyes were a window to the soul, then theirs were like ribbon windows hiding nothing inside its transparent walls. The corners of their mouth lifted their round cheeks, reminding him of Futa when he was a child.

He was never much of a chef but he vowed to make tomorrow’s breakfast the best he could.

“Oh, by the way, I have something to give you," Tsuna said before he ended their break. "Come pick it up after you’ve had your dinner, okay? I’ll leave it on my desk.”

Chapter Text

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Shoto instinctively twitched at the sudden noise. Knocking was a very unfamiliar sound in this household unless you counted the loud ones during his father's training. Besides, he never knocked and he could always hear his father coming before he saw him. He couldn't remember what his mother did but regardless she was always welcome.

Did I do something wrong? — he thought warily.

He wasn't used to having visitors at this time of — well, ever. He pushed himself off his desk, resting his pencil in between the crevice of his mathematics workbook, and slid the door open.

“Hello, Shoto,” Tsuna said with an envelope in hand. “I saw this still on my desk and figured you forgot.”

He shrunk into the door. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not criticizing or blaming you. We all forget sometimes.” He crouched a bit holding the paper in front of him. “Here, it’s all yours.”

Shoto held the letter with both hands. “All Might?” he whispered with a twinkle in his eyes.

Tsuna’s brows lifted in equal parts surprise and amusement. “No, but I promise to get more of his stuff if it makes you this happy.”

He let out a little excited gasp before turning his attention back to the envelope. “Training?”

Man, how cruel would that be? He let out an amused breath. Though judging from his tone, I'm glad he doesn't see training with me as anything unpleasant.

“Nope.”

Shoto titled his head, eyes scrolling up to him.

“It’s from Natsuo.”

He gasped, eyes blowing wide, his lips failing to suppress the anticipation rising on his face. He quickly took out the letter as Tsuna looked away respectfully.

About a minute later, Shoto carefully refolded the paper, making sure to follow the creases. He took a quick glance back towards his desk before looking back at Tsuna. And whether he meant to hide that or not, Tsuna definitely noticed. He stared at him intently, his mind telling him to talk to his teacher while his heart reminded him of its ache.

“Friends,” he whispered under his breath, nodding.

As he was reaching for Cielo’s hand, his own twitched, thinking the man was going to push him away — to reject him. But urged on by his teacher's patient and curious look, he steeled his nerves and led him inside — making sure to close the door behind him.

Perhaps the one trait he and his father shared besides their blood was their will and stubbornness to create opportunities for themselves despite it all.

Walking towards his desk — with Tsuna bending his back awkwardly to match the height of his hand — Shoto opened the drawer revealing his precious All Might pen nestled between a flock of crumpled paper cranes nesting on top of hastily drawn pictures. Despite the rather neat and orderly way Shoto carried himself, the way those cranes' wings and necks were bent out of shape made them closely resemble roadkill rather than the majestic bird. It was a bit surprising since Tsuna had pegged him as a kid good with his hands.

Oh?

Tsuna's eyes zeroed in on a set of familiar notes, recognizing the handwriting he chose to write within this universe. It wasn’t like the notes held anything all that inspiring; just a couple of “good morning!” notes and reheating instructions when needed for breakfast. And although Tsuna was well aware of the lack of parental affection between the Todorokis, each sight sank perception into reality.

So that’s why Natsuo… I mean, Lambo was sentimental as a kid but never to this extent — Tsuna thought warily.

Even if he didn’t take the contents into account, the fact that he was showing him, his newly hired tutor, his collection spoke volumes. Hell, when he was around Shoto’s age, he had a rock collection he didn’t tell his mother until months later. He supposed he was used to people being wary of him and then signing an oath for him on a dime but there was something more disconcerting when he was privy to another’s voluntary vulnerability. Not to discredit their loyalty of course. But baring your secrets and sins to someone was extremely rare even within his inner circle.

And this vulnerability only cemented what he knew: the Todoroki children were desperate for an ear — not even a kind one, even a passive one would do. He's seen it more in Natsuo than Fuyumi — although it was still obvious that she had the desire to be heard as well — and now Shoto. Like most people, let alone neglected children, they had a deep desire to connect with someone; they wished so desperately to share their thoughts that they trust him as opposed to their own blood. Well, it wasn't as if Tsuna didn't understand that sentiment. He never really told his mother about the mafia nor did he trust his father with anything outside the Vongola. But many of the secrets he withheld were to protect someone. Except for his father. Some may call him immature but childhood resentment didn't go away so easily especially when his father didn't make much effort to be closer beyond a professional relationship and general peace-keeping for his mother.

So it was a great deal of frustration when, from an outsider’s point of view, the communication issues and its simple — although no less difficult— remedies were so glaringly obvious that even Tsuna felt the tingle in his hand to slap some sense into Endeavor. He understood, however, that situations like these were cultivated through years of pride, complacency, and exhaustion. And such complexities were difficult to untangle without the net digging deeper into one's own flesh.

He had to wonder if the children’s act of hiding their desires and pastimes arose from a precautionary measure that stemmed from their parent’s lack of attention in general or if their parents ever actively discouraged such behaviour before. Endeavor no doubt would’ve seen this as nothing more than a distraction at best. Although considering the rather conspicuous location of Shoto’s keepsakes and the man's rather straightforward personality, Endeavor was unlikely to be the snooping type. Then perhaps Natsuo's paranoia was a learned trait from the yet-to-be-seen eldest son considering Endeavor’s complete ignorance of his children’s personal lives.

Shoto closed his workbook and pushed it into the back corner of his desk before taking out the crumpled cranes — or at least what Tsuna assumed to be cranes. A few of them were misshapen and judging from the creases Tsuna harboured a guess that it was Shoto who tried to refold the paper without knowing how to. It was clear that he was attached to the origami birds as there was even a crane with bled ink and warpage — evidence of it being immersed in water and hastily dried at one point.

Shoto handed them to him with a nervous but hopeful look. A look that trusted him not to burn the olive branch handed to him. A look that held faith in him yet held back by years of apprehension.

“Natsuo made birds fly,” Shoto mumbled. He bit his lips trying to cover his smile, teetering in his seat as if he was embarrassed over feeling such nostalgic joy. 

Odd choice of words?

Shoto didn’t need to suppress his feelings for long as his face took on a sombre look. “But then I was bad and he doesn’t like me anymore and so no more birds.”

As his frown sank to the corners of his lips, Tsuna recalled Natsuo’s words:

Can you give this to them? To mom and Shoto? I don’t need it back, I just… want to see if you could reach them.

What should’ve been a cute exchange between children was definitely muddled by its context. 

“Shoto,” Tsuna prompted softly.

“Hm? ”

“You don’t have to answer but when’s the last time you interacted — played with your big brother?”

Shoto hummed, brows knitting briefly with childlike innocence, blissfully unaware of the gravity behind such a piteous question.

“I don’t know,” he answered with sincerity. “I’m sorry...”

They lived in the same house. They were both children in the same house. How was this even possible?

So his words weren't an exaggeration like I'd hoped...

“No, no. Don’t be. It’s not your fault. So, Natsuo gave these to you?” he quickly changed the subject, lifting his cradled hands up a little.

Shoto nodded. “Father said I can’t see him. Fuyumi too but she’s older so she can now a little." He pinched his fingers together. "Really little.”

No mention of the eldest? “You two must’ve been close.”

Shoto tilted his head. “My room is here and Natsuo’s room is upstairs.”

“I meant emotionally,” he corrected with an amused breath.

If their unorthodox method of communication was any indication, then the two must’ve had some connection, right?

Shoto frowned. If knowing each other, talking to each other, and sharing one’s likes and dislikes were what made friends then he and Natsuo were strangers who only happened to live under the same roof. He looked towards his favourite spot on the engawa, a forlorn look replacing his childhood.

“Shoto?”

“I’m a bad friend.”

“Wha—?” Tsuna let out a scoff of disbelief, squinting at his ridiculous statement. “Now, why would you think that?”

He tucked his head into his shirt. “Because I don’t know anything about brother and sister and I don’t know about the things you like and that’s not fair. I’m a bad friend.”

“Then you can learn,” he comforted. “No one is born knowing everything. Now, what did I say about not knowing something?”

“That… That I can ask?”

He nodded. “Very good.” Tsuna paused, trying to find suitable words. He really wished Takeshi was here. “Sometimes… a voice inside you will say ‘you’re bad!’”

He blinked. “Villains?” He cupped his ears with a curious look.

“I meant it metaphorically — a thought, not a real sound.” Tsuna gently placed the papers on the table and sat down, crossing his legs. “It can sound like you or a person you know. It’s called ‘doubt.’ The voice, doubt, makes you think very hurtful things about yourself.”

Shoto nodded, a little shocked and wondering if Cielo was a mind reader before remembering that he had tutor powers and therefore knew everything.

“But remember to never let that voice determine if you’re ‘bad’ or not.”

“But what if I’m bad really?” Even he noticed the way his mom was less and less happy around him and perhaps — likely — because of him.

“Well, there isn’t a way I know of that’s definite— certain— for sure,” he said in an apologetic tone. “But doubt is often static— unchanging. Doubt often makes you think bad things about yourself and only that. There is no learning, no growth. If you truly did a bad thing, you’d— actually, what do you think you should do?”

“If I really did a bad thing?”

Tsuna nodded.

“Say I’m sorry?" He curled his fingers on his lap. "A—And try to fix the bad thing.” 

“See?” He softly clapped his hands together for emphasis. “That’s the difference. Doubt doesn’t make things better, it doesn’t help the person you may have hurt. It only makes you feel worse. If you really did a bad thing, you reflect and make the effort to be better; you learn and you grow. Feeling guilty and feeling bad is normal but it’s what you do with those feelings that matter.” Tsuna crossed his arms and hummed. “The only thing I’d add to what you said is that sometimes you can’t ‘fix’ what you did wrong. Sometimes, the bad thing can’t be ‘fixed’.”

“Because I was really, really bad?”

He shook his head. “Sometimes problems are unsolvable because of many reasons— from the person who did the bad thing, to the person you’re apologizing to, and to other outside factors too.”

“Okay?” Shoto replied, his tone and blank look betraying his words.

Tsuna lifted his hand a centimetre off his lap before placing it back down, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair. He wasn’t sure if the boy was comfortable with him initiating contact just yet.

“It’s something we learn as we grow. Don’t worry about not understanding it all at once.” Tsuna hummed. “For now, remember to sincerely, truly apologize and do your very best not to do the ‘bad thing’ again— in the case you actually hurt someone. So! Let’s review: you think you’re a bad friend because you don’t know much about your brother and about the things I like. Let’s go through the list. Did the ‘voice’, doubt, make you feel bad?”

He nodded. “It feels really bad... shameful. Like something heavy here.” He squeezed a fistful of his shirt over his chest. “And... here? I think here.” He moved his hands over his stomach.

“Does the voice help you to be better? To become a better person? Tell you how to learn from the situation? Or did the voice just make your stomach feel heavy?”

He hesitates before shaking his head. “Heavy.”

“So, do you think the voice telling you that you’re bad is ‘doubt’ or something that’s real?”

He played with the wings of one of the paper birds. “...doubt?”

He nodded. “I know it’s hard to believe at first. Because feeling doubt is very human. And doubt and guilt aren't feelings that go away so easily. But we’ll work on it, okay? I appreciate you telling me about your feelings and making the effort to overcome your mistakes. Remember that I’m here as your teacher. I’m here to help you learn. Never be ashamed of that. And if you need help or reassurance, I’m here. You’re a lot braver than you think, Shoto.”

Tsuna waited patiently as Shoto processed what he’d said. If there was something he noticed while training with Shoto it was that, despite his gift for combative quick thinking, it took him some time to process linguistic connotations and conversations with positive or negative reinforcement. He was a rather emphatic child and guided introspection was something he wasn’t used to.

Hopefully, I didn’t overwhelm him — Tsuna thought pensively.

Fiddling with the paper in his hands, Shoto looked toward Tsuna and nodded. It was still clear that Shoto didn’t exactly understand all of Tsuna’s words but as he said, there was plenty of time for Shoto to process his childhood. Hopefully, even after his departure, he would find someone — a friend — to guide him.

“I got us a little off track.” Tsuna gestured to the pile of paper birds. “Can you tell me about your little collection here?”

Shoto perked up like a puppy when it heard the crinkling of a treat bag. It was a similar reaction to Natsuo and Fuyumi, Tsuna noted. Although Shoto held more hesitance as he opened his mouth before shutting it. Before Tsuna could ask, he turned around and rearranged the paper cranes in a loose line.

Resting his chin on his hand, Tsuna watched Shoto organize the origami. Even with his keen eye, Tsuna wasn’t sure what made Shoto arrange the cranes in the way he did. It wasn’t by colour or size. At most, maybe the more wrinkled ones tended to be on the left side. Although even then it seemed like the misshapen birds didn’t adhere to that rule if the once water-logged one being on the right side was any indication. Perhaps content then? He did spot what seemed like a “4” peeking out between the folds.

I wonder... “Do you know what these birds are?” Tsuna asked.

Shoto paused and shook his head.

“It’s a bird called a crane. Like the ones on the scroll hanging on the wall between the stairs.”

Shoto squinted and jutted out his lips, trying to remember if he saw such a scroll. Humming contemplatively for a good second, only a cloud of confusion filled the gaps. He never really observed his house all that much; it was just a place he lived in. His tutor was really amazing at noticing small details like that! Was there something there? Wait... Yeah, yeah — he thinks. There was something there. Long and rectangular. He couldn’t remember what was on the scrolls though. He remembered some scribbly lines and maybe a tree? Clouds? Were there birds there? Oh, and a red dot! That was the sun.

It’s so obvious what he’s thinking — Tsuna thought amusedly. But more than that, such a response was tucked away into his mental “Todoroki household red flags” file.

“But the shell,” Shoto muttered under his breath.

Tsuna blinked. “Shell?”

“Cranes don’t have shells.” He brought up one of the nicer-looking cranes and pointed towards its back where a triangular protrusion connected its limbs. “Like a mountain. Pointy on its back. Shell.”

A smile crept up his face. “That’s not a shell. When you fold the paper, it creates that shell-looking back.”

“Oh.” Shoto shuffled his feet, focus shifting to his desk again.

Tsuna couldn’t help but let out a good-natured chuckle, reassuring him that he wasn’t making fun of him when he saw the boy’s reddening ears.

“You’re very creative. I would’ve never seen it as a shell. It would make for a very interesting bird.”

No one give Verde or Byakuran any ideas.

Once Shoto seemed satisfied with the rearrangement, he turned towards Tsuna. Looking at him with the expectation that he would start the conversation first.

Taking the hint, Tsuna asked, “when did you get these cranes?”

“When I was little.”

Tsuna hid a frown. He knew children often had a loose sense of time but even for a child to say “when I was little”, a considerable time must’ve passed.

Shoto continued, “um, more littler. They fell out of the sky.”

“Fell out?”

He nodded, leading Tsuna to follow his gaze toward the engawa. “It was night and father’s training hurts a lot—”

So he physically distances himself from the house.

“—then I saw something falling. But I was scared but I like the garden. I went there and it was a paper bird— I mean, crane.” A shy smile crawled up his face, holding the newly acquired letter in his hands. “He still remembers me...”

“How did you know it was from Natsuo?”

“His name was on one of the cranes. I didn’t read it but now I read it because I can read now.”

“I see. Natsuo’s quite the caring brother, isn’t he? He made these all for you.”

Shoto shook his head as Tsuna shot him a confused look. “No?”

“The cranes aren’t mine.”

Tsuna blinked. “Then who’s it for?”

“Mom.”

“Your... mother?”

He nodded and pulled out a piece of lined paper heavily littered with wrinkles and folds. “This was the first crane but I messed up because I couldn’t make it into the crane again. Natsuo wrote ‘mom’ here. See? I learned the word in school.”

“I see… Did you show these to your mother?” he asked, treading carefully.

“I did,” he said in almost a defensive tone, “I was late because I didn’t know words but then when I gave it, mom said ‘thank you’ and then read it really fast.”

Odd detail. “She read it fast?”

Shoto bobbed his head with a look of admiration. “Mom got the paper and then looked at it for like a second and then she was done.” Shoto traced the wrinkles on the paper. “She's fast. I wanted to ask her to read it for me but she said she was tired. Mom gets tired a lot because of him. I don’t like it when he makes mom sad. I like it when mom is happy...”

Tsuna’s heart ached. “I see. So you took the letters back for safekeeping?”

Shoto took a second to process the word “safekeeping”. He nodded. “Not for me but I got them so they’re mine now. But not really mine but mine until mom wants them back.”

Tsuna had heard from good sources that Endeavor's mission may wrap up soon. So along with Shoto's progress report, perhaps he could talk to the man face to face at the end of the week. He may not have Mukuro's tongue nor Takeshi's charisma, but perhaps he could finesse his words in such a way to make Endeavor become a little less of a bastard. For as smart as he was on the field, he didn't seem to be insusceptible to manipulation or wise enough to spot well-crafted doublespeak.

“So you haven’t read these ones yet?” Tsuna asked, pointing towards the misshapen cranes.

He shook his head, looking down at his hands in fear as if he had the blood of those cranes on his hands. “I can’t.”

“Do— Do you want me to show you how to fold a crane?” Tsuna asked incredulously.

Shoto turned his head so quickly that for a second he was worried that his neck would snap. Large heterochromatic eyes blinked at him screaming "YES".

“Alright,” Tsuna said, pushing himself up, “why don’t I get some paper. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Chapter Text

Leaving his line of sight, Shoto stared at the closed door still in disbelief tinged with a bit of awe. He never had an adult willing to spend time teaching him something so… useless. Something not worthwhile to his future. Something he didn’t need but something he wanted to do. While his life wasn’t devoid of some small pleasures, giving and doing were different than teaching. He never knew a useless activity could be taught and not just... done. It almost felt dangerous as if Cielo was teaching him some forbidden knowledge. Yet, all too enticing.

As he stared at his open palms, there was a small worry bubbling inside him. What if he wasn’t good at it? He wasn’t very dexterous. Would this activity start to become a chore? Like school was? He thought school would be fun but no one really talked to him. He wanted to make friends but he wasn’t a very fun person to talk to. Especially the girls. The girls in his class would stare at him a lot and whisper. It wasn't anything bad — at least he thinks so. But neither party was willing to take the first step. He eventually tuned everyone out. Mom once told him that “making friends” was what school was for but he even failed at that. So would Cielo be disappointed when he couldn’t get it right? He was almost sure that the hero couldn’t even get mad. But disappointment? It was easy for nice people to get disappointed in him and in some ways that was worse than someone being mad at him.

Shoto shook his head. This was his tutor he was talking about. A hero. He had the same doubts before he met Cielo; he thought he was going to be like his father. He thought training would be bad. But training didn't turn out bad. Training was... well, he had mixed feelings about it but he liked it when he did well in training because, with Cielo's tutor powers, he seemed to be doing more right than wrong compared to his father's regimen. He liked it when he finally figured out what he was supposed to do. He liked it when they took breaks. He liked it when he asked, "are you okay?" He liked it when he didn't have to strain his neck to talk to him. He liked it when Cielo would talk to him about the things he liked. He liked it when Cielo praised him for completing his homework and tasks. He liked it when he talked to him instead of at him. He liked it when Cielo didn't compare him to All Might; he would never match up to him anyways. He liked it when he wasn't treated like "Endeavor's son" as if people thought he wanted to become a hero like his father. He didn't like that. He didn't like giving the wrong answers but he never felt that Cielo would judge him for it. He never felt that Cielo would punish him for being "not enough". Cielo was a confusing man, a kind hero, and a friend? There was a sense of security with Cielo. And at times, training was even... fun.

So this would also be "fun".

"Shoto?"

Shoto's heart leapt when Cielo was already in front of him. He was usually so perspective of his surroundings; how did Cielo keep popping out of nowhere? Was this another tutor ability?

“Sorry,” Tsuna said as he set down the pack of colourful origami paper. Unless his presence was needed, he was too used to walking around undetected.

Getting situated, he turned on the “How to Make: Paper Crane Folding Instructions (Super Easy!!) [Great Children's Activity for All Occasions!]” video he skimmed through on his way back. He propped up his phone at the back of Shoto’s desk to give him some working space. He had taken an interest in origami once but that was much too long ago; no shame in teaching Shoto adults could be vulnerable as well.

And once again he was surprised by Shoto’s restraint as he sat there looking at the pack of papers, his body leaning towards his desk but stopping himself just short of grabbing it himself. Tsuna was just way too used to Lambo’s and I-pin’s energy that seeing a normal child doing normal things made him remember how different his life had become. And it wasn’t like any of the toddlers, let alone children, he'd met were exactly normal.

Tsuna froze for a moment. Have I… actually never met a normal baby?

Waving away those thoughts, he nodded to Shoto. While he could've handed the paper to him himself, it was good to encourage his kinesthetic independence. Really, for a child Shoto's age, he shouldn't have to wait for an adult's permission to explore such harmless things by himself. Well, it wasn't like he could judge; even back when he was in grade school, he had asked his mom for permission to drink milk from the fridge.

It was just one small action but a single task eventually developed into habits. Fostering dependency through coddling never worked out well for anyone.

“Hello everyone!” the lady in the video greeted as Shoto gave her a respectful bow and a small "hello" in return. “Today in this video we're going to be folding origami cranes. First, we're going to need some square sheets of paper.”

Sitting slightly behind Shoto so he wouldn’t be pressured to follow him, Tsuna was already one step ahead just in case he needed help.

“Or you can even just get your standard ruled paper and fold it like this and cut off the excess to get a square," she continued. "But I’m going to use origami paper. Aren’t these patterns cool? For those of you who don’t know, this first pack was designed after Nyikang, a Sudanese hero! And this second pack was designed after Big Red Dot, a Singaporean hero quickly rising up the ranks! The stationary store I got them from had a lot of international hero merch…”

Perhaps he should’ve chosen a shorter video. Or at least one that has less hero worship.

Well, this is considered the norm...

“...anyhow let’s get into this! So you take your paper and we’re going to fold it corner to corner…”

Shoto tried to copy the lady’s hands, brows furrowing as the corners of his paper didn’t seem to align quite right when he pressed down on the fold. He fumbled a bit during the more precise folds and Tsuna stepped in to help as he was confused by the turning and folding of the limbs. Although the video didn’t have any sped up footage, Tsuna had to pause and rewind multiple times for Shoto to follow along. Tsuna had to give credit to Shoto, he was one stubborn kid even as he glared from his paper to the screen wondering why his looked nothing like the one in the video. At this point, Lambo would've given up and asked Fuuta to do it for him.

In the end, Shoto’s first origami crane had two cervical fractures and no chance of flying again from all the repeat foldings. Tsuna’s was thankfully a lot better despite the misaligned folds making the limbs look thick and bumpy.

“I’m sorry,” Shoto said with a small pout before glaring at his creation, “I’m bad at—”

Tsuna shook his head. “No one’s perfect— especially on their first try. Instead of apologies, we say ‘I’ll get better,’ okay? Don’t give up just yet. Remember? Don’t tell yourself that you can’t do it because then you’ll start believing you can’t. If you can’t do it, try until you can. And if you really can’t, I’ll be here to help you.”

Shoto’s fingers glided over the wrinkled folds of his crane’s wings. Strangely, it wasn’t shame he felt when he looked at it. Not anymore at least. Well, maybe a little. But mostly a desire… for what though? To be “better”? For whom? Why did he try to be better in such frivolous activities? It wouldn’t help him get stronger. It wouldn’t help his mother. It wouldn’t make him a better person like Fuyumi or Natsuo. It was all so stupid yet… he felt a desire to be better than this. To be better than his first try. To be better than himself. Because he wanted to.

Like training — he thought. Even he was surprised that the statement didn't hold anger or fear.

Perhaps it was a revelation that didn’t shake the earth nor an idea that magically cured him of his self-doubt; however, it was the first drop of rain marking the seed in the freshly tilled soil.

“...can I try one more time?” he whispered, already reaching for a new sheet of paper.

Tsuna nodded, observing the boy’s growing confidence in himself instead of taking whatever was given to him. This was a small, minuscule step — of that he had no doubt. He knew that if Endeavor was here the boy wouldn’t be able to set an ultimatum and break free of his authority.

But Shoto held a stubbornness that he was well acquainted with. Something he’d seen and felt countless times. He’s seen in his own Guardians and strongly felt for the first time himself during the test of resolve by Primo. Stubbornness was proof of desire. It was selfish and idealistic. Yet all too human. And while that stubbornness may only be budding, it was there. It was a bud that, if cultivated with the right care, would lead to resolve.

And seeing him take initiative made his lips lift with pride.

The video played in the background as Shoto started on his fourth crane. While the first may have made paper animal welfare groups take the poor bird into custody, his second and third attempts started to look better and better. He was getting faster too as he was keeping up with the pace of the video while maintaining aligned corners.

Tsuna had gotten better as well. Not that he wanted to fold cranes but if anything, it was just something to do until Shoto felt satisfied. Or until it became too late. Whatever came first. Although his hands were methodical, his mind drifted to his responsibilities from home, keeping eye on the clock every now and again.

Shoto paused as he carefully observed his tutor’s hands. Perhaps it was an unconscious trait he picked up from his isolated upbringing but he couldn’t help but analyze his movements. His fingers were dexterous and nimble, holding both confidence and a sense of purpose. It was so unlike his father’s unrelenting strength and his mother’s sorrowful gentleness. It was so different from his life — the stability and confidence in his movements made a small part of him wish Cielo could tutor his father too. Maybe then his family would be normal instead of whatever this was. His life, even if it was laid out before he was born, or rather made, teetered under his feet as if he was balancing himself on a ball and pike in the world’s most depressing circus act.

Not Cielo. Cielo was stable. Shoto didn’t know what it was about the man that made him see both his father’s and mother’s presence yet none at the same time. Cielo was a good person — he knew that. But challenging the rules that bound this house? Challenging his father? It all felt nice but at the same time it was… unsettling. Scary. He wasn’t scared of Cielo but of the differences he brought with him. The kindness and warmth. The words and reassurances. Respect and understanding. These changes were like a tidal wave and he only hoped he wouldn’t drown in them.

“Do you know what these paper cranes mean?” Tsuna suddenly asked.

“Birds?”

He smiled. “There’s an old legend: If you fold a thousand paper cranes, you’ll get any wish you want.”

Shoto gasped. Blinking widely at the now beautiful paper crane in his hands, he held it like it was the Holy Grail. 

“They have a Quirk?”

Tsuna let out a shaky breath in amusement, relief, and pity. Perhaps it was better for children not to be aware of their situations in this case.

“No, it’s an old legend.”

“Like a fairy tale?” Shoto pouted, frowning. “Then it’s not real. Fairy tales aren’t real..”

“Maybe, but the cranes mean something very important.”

“But it’s not real.”

“No, no. I mean to the person who folded these cranes for you. They folded these cranes because they love and care about you. Do you like doing things you don’t want to do?”

“But I have to.”

He bit back a wince. “Sometimes we do... But do you like doing it? Forget about if you have to do it or not. What do you feel?”

He stared at him with those wide, curious eyes which held a touch of pessimistic realism behind them. He stared at the floor, the only sound being the wind rustling the leaves. After a minute of silence, he opened his mouth.

“...no. I don’t like it when father's training.”

He quickly hid his grimace. “Exactly. So to fold these cranes, only people who care about you — love you — would do that. And I have a very good feeling that if Natsuo could fold a thousand they would’ve.”

“A thousand? That’s like a lot. Like way more than a hundred.”

He nodded. “Isn’t that nice? Maybe Natsuo hasn't folded a thousand yet but that doesn’t mean he cares for you any less.”

"But it was for mom."

"Yes. But the letter I gave you— that was for you. Did you know originally, the letter was a crane?"

"It's a rectangle now." Shoto glanced at his drawer where he stored the letter. "Why? Because he doesn't like me?"

We'll have to address his self-deprecation later.

He shook his head. "I think he was shy."

"Shy?" His brows furrowed. He didn't think Natsuo had the capability of being shy — not that he knew much about his brother in the first place.

"Big brothers can get scared too. He probably thought his letters weren't getting delivered and that made him sad."

"Oh." He stared at the letters hidden inside his desk before his eyes returned to his teacher. “I want to be nice... like All Might. Can I be nice too?”

“Of course you can,” Tsuna replied with a hint of melancholy. “Why don’t we help your brother reach a thousand?”

Shoto nodded before his brows scrunched up with a small frown. “But who gets the wish? I don’t want to steal the wish. Can my brother get first half of the wish and you get the second half?”

“How selfless of you,” he said with warmth as he placed another finished crane on the desk. “But if anything, it should be between you and Natsuo.”

He shook his head. “He made the cranes first.”

“Then we’ll give the wish to Natsuo. Or maybe the two of you can wish for something together — something you’ll both like.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Can we also give a wish to my sister and mom?”

“Two thousand more cranes, how ambitious,” he teased. “Of course, we can. But! It’s getting late and you need to go to bed.”

“But the wish…”

“If you got sick or too tired doing it all at once, I think your brother would be more worried. Besides, I promised you something nice for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Nice?”

“Something very delicious.”

Shoto racked his brain until it came to him: “Pancakes!”

“Yep! And only good students that go to bed on time get to eat it!”

Shoto quickly got up and cleared his desk, careful to place all the new cranes inside the drawer without bending it. He looked toward him for approval as he chuckled. Snacks and toys were interdimensional favourites among children, weren’t they?

“Alright,” he said as he got up and headed towards the door. “Good night, Shoto.”

But before he closed the door, his ears caught a faint whisper: “Good night, Cielo.”

Chapter Text

Taking the dark blue apron off the wall, Tsuna tied it around his waist. He rolled up his sleeves just above his elbows and washed his hands, having already taken out the necessary ingredients from the pantry and fridge.

Natsu, who was already agitated from being cooped up for nearly a week, demanded to be his little helper for today. Good thing he wasn’t a real animal with real fur.

“Let’s see… Eggs, milk, vanilla, sugar, all-purpose flour, butter...” he muttered to himself, reciting the recipe from a fond memory. “Natsu can you get the—thanks.”

Natsu helped him measure out the ingredients as he got to separating the eggs to make the batter and meringue, he almost regretted picking this recipe considering he had to hand-whisk everything. While Fuyumi got some of the ingredients not already in her home like the vanilla extract, both Natsu and Tsuna dragged their hands down their faces for not checking if they had a stand or hand mixer.

Just think about it as a workout. The last time this happened…

His lips quirked up at the memory as Natsu chuffed and butted his head against his thighs.

Although, even if they had it, it was probably a bad idea to use it this early in the morning.

Thankfully, he did check if they had a pan with high enough walls and a lid beforehand and found an electric skillet which was even better. It was practically unused considering he found the box— one of the bulletpoints on the cover reading “perfect for family dinners” —tucked into the deepest nook of the pantry. The only indication that it wasn't new was the broken seal.

“It’s too bad you don’t have opposable thumbs, Natsu.”

“Gao.”

“Who's a better aid? Well, let’s see: Ziro, Koziro, and Mukurou come to mind.”

“Gao!”

“Okay, maybe Mukurou isn’t fair since Mukuro can possess him.”

Natsu grumbled, lightly gnawing at his ankles.

He rolled his eyes playfully, shaking off his nibbles. “Yeah, I’m lucky, I know. Uri would’ve knocked everything off the counter by now, then Hayato would’ve—”

Both of them shivered. Gokudera was meticulous but at times when he hyperfocused on something, he would forget that he left the stove absolutely bursting in flames with nothing but a wok full of oil and would continue to forget even if there was a raging fire behind him. And Bianchi was the walking biohazard equivalent of the Midas touch.

Tsuna set the bowl down as he rolled his shoulders, lightly massaging his forearm. He gave himself a pat on the back, looking at the soft, fluffy peaks filling the bowl. Wait, that was Natsu climbing his back.

“You’re lucky,” he said as he started working on the yolk mixture, “I built up some muscle.”

He jolted as Natsu bit his shoulder and waved his tail smugly. Shooting him a glare which was returned with a playful nudge to his face, Tsuna sighed. Kusakabe once attributed a few of the Box Animals to children and he was goddamn right.

After mixing the meringue and the mixture in thirds, he did exactly as he remembered, making sure the heat and oil distribution was even before placing the completed batter high on the skillet. 

“Okay, where did I go wrong with this?”

Tsuna glared at the half burnt pile of batter on the pristine white plate, a viscous ivory blob squished between two black discs.

“How did I manage to burn it and undercook it at the same time? You don’t think I could save the bit that’s undercooked?”

Natsu’s paw was already pressed against the pedal of the compost bin.

“Yeah, it won’t be enough. Thank Christ I had the foresight to test it first,” Tsuna muttered, “could’ve wasted all that whisking.”

Shoto yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before making his bed as best he could. His body was on autopilot as he went through his morning routines.

As he splashed water on his face, he let out the breath he was holding. He looked in the mirror, a strange boy looking back at him. He looked… happy? Excited? It wasn't overt nor was the small curve of his lips all too noticeable. But staring at the same boy for so long, he knew this was not the usual boy he was used to looking at. Well, it was, but something was different.

Before he could wonder why the boy seemed happy through his groggy eyes, a revelation popped into his head:

Pancakes!

He quickly turned off the faucet, heading towards the kitchen, a hop in his step as a sweet smell kissed his nose.

Tsuna covered the skillet and placed the spatula on the side of the bowl. “Good morning, Shoto.”

He heard a little thump before the door slowly slid open.

"Good morning."

"Come, sit down, and I'll get you some pancakes. It'll be done in a minute. I believe there's jam in the fridge— Fuyumi bought blueberry, I believe."

Shoto nodded, noticing that the cutlery was set up already. Getting the jar from the fridge, he placed it at the centre of the table and sat in his seat. He hooked his leg to the chair’s, time seemingly crawling to a snail’s pace. It was an odd sort of feeling. Like hunger and something else.

A minute never felt longer.

Shoto looked at the plate in front of him in awe. Circular, pillow-like cakes piled slightly against each other, the caramelized tan contrasting with the fluffy white cream dolloped on top. Apple-bunnies and apple-butterflies sat on the cream, a halo of smaller fruits and syrup circling the dish. It was like a little snowy forest on his plate.

Tsuna watched Shoto with a smile, relieved that, visually at least, it got a pass. He wasn’t the best with a blade (that wasn’t used for self-defence). This was more of his mother's thing. The ears of the rabbit were uneven and he knew he took off a little too much of the body — nearly making the rabbit's body flat instead of cute and round. The butterfly had misshapen, geometric wings as if it came out of a PS1 game. At least h got the pancakes cooked through. His friends would be proud.

A bittersweet feeling gnawed at his chest. Shoto looked so much like Lambo and I-pin when they were younger. Maybe Fuuta and Yuni as well on those rare occasions they allowed themselves to embrace their age. Even when he knew he was going to see them again, even when he knew this wasn’t the first or likely the last time dimensional travel would enter his days, he still missed his family dearly.

Shoto cut out a small piece and swallowed, a bit of syrup dripping back on the plate. He chewed on the fork, almost as if he didn’t want the favour to disappear, the cake melting in his mouth.

“It’s tasty,” Shoto said as his legs kicked the air, “it’s like I have a cloud and it’s going fwah fwah!”

Tsuna choked the spatula with a death grip. Is… Is this what his mother felt when she fed others? This elation of allowing people to act upon their purest form of joy? Or was he just getting sentimentally old?

“I’m glad,” he said, unable to completely hide the triumph in his voice. “You can always ask for more.”

“More...?”

He nodded as he flipped the pancakes. “I can’t give you too much but a few more won’t harm you. Do you want one more?”

“Yes please!”

He picked up one of the finished ones and carried it over to Shoto’s plate. “It also applies to other things too. If you want something or want to tell me something, I’m just a few rooms away. You're never a waste of my time.”

Shoto’s lips were pinched closed, his cheeks puffing out with a reddish hue. He whispered s small “okay” under his breath, opting to poke the newest addition on his plate with his fork— pat pat pat  —the pancake jigging in response. It was a little puffier than the ones he just ate. But melted in his mouth just the same.

“Hmk!” Shoto made a noise at the back of his throat.

He was on his tippy toes, arms stretching over the counter to put his plate into the sink. Tsuna was more surprised that he didn’t just dunk them in, like most kids usually did. Instead, once he felt that one corner of the plate was touching the sink, he let go with a soft clink. Then he walked towards the table to pick up his cup and walked back to the sink, his fingers inching up until he felt the bottom of the glass touch the surface.

Clink.

Tsuna never noticed it before but the kitchen really needed a step stool for Shoto. Everything was inaccessible for the height of a child. Although Natsuo could probably reach the top cupboards if he climbed the counters a bit. But for Shoto, even something simple as a cup was out of reach.

Moving a heavy chair to climb might be dangerous...

Now that he thought about it, most the house was ill-equipped for a child as young as Shoto. Even Colonello and Lal Mirch, the two military training lunatics, had baby-proofed their house once that little hellion was old enough to stick things into her mouth. Hell, houses with children usually still had remnants of their infantile years like corner blockers or outlet shields.

A step latter or stool may be helpful for Fuyumi as well. A note for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Tsuna fluffed the rice, his other hand working on the egg rolls. Without turning around, he greeted the little observer standing by the door.

“Good morning, Shoto.”

“Good morning.”

They had developed a certain routine over the past few days. In the mornings, Tsuna woke up and made breakfast while Shoto set the table. He was quite eager to be a little helper and who was he to deny the boy? The little angel even helped him clean up with the foot stool he got him without destroying any tableware! He was initially afraid of him helping since an accidental broken shard could hurt Shoto. Regardless of if he could heal it or not, he didn’t like seeing children in pain.

I’ve gotten more cautious.

While he stood by that statement since his youth, it allied mostly towards abuse or battle. When he was a teenager, he certainly wasn’t this vigilant when Lambo got a minor scratch or hurt superficially. Although it was likely due to Lambo’s incredible durability even as a toddler and the mafia warping what was considered a normal threshold for pain.

Regardless, it wouldn’t matter anyway, since Shoto had gotten more and more comfortable asking for help

“Are you excited to see Natsuo tomorrow?” he asked, sautéing the vegetables.

Shoto nodded, fidgeting with the cutlery in his hands. “I hope he likes me.”

Tsuna shot him a sympathetic smile. “With a kid as cool and nice as you? I know he will.”

With Endeavor out on hero duties longer these days, at least according to Fuyumi, he knew it would be safe enough for the two brothers to talk without their father getting in the way or making either of them hyper aware of their words and actions. God, it was sad that he had to convince him just so they could talk to each other in their own house.

Following their little routine, they ate breakfast together, mostly with him filling the silence with little, age-appropriate stories about the hero work he did when his agency called. Thankfully, Shoto was getting more comfortable asking him questions and prompts so the conversation flowed naturally.

As they were cleaning up, Tsuna took a look at the time and realized the documents he was supposed to send over in the morning were late. It was rare that he lost track of time but with Shoto more willing to talk, he sometimes forgot how fast time could pass. It wasn’t an emergency, thankfully, but it reflected badly on him if he brought down his agency’s productivity.

“Shoto,” he said, drying his hands on the towel, “I need to do something real quick. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, placing the remaining food in the fridge.

Tsuna stretched as he sent the documents to Rosemary with a tagged apology for being late. He closed his laptop and got up, heading back to the kitchen until he stumbled upon someone.

Unkempt, snow-white hair spilled over her shirt. The skin on her collarbones clung so tightly that he could see a deep cavity under her frayed hair. Her skin was pale and gaunt but what Tsuna had noticed first, under her bangs deeply shadowing her face, was her sunken, grey eyes devoid of light. Her shoulders were drawn together as if she wanted to blend into the walls, the deep bags under her eyes growing darker with each step. It was as if she was devoid of colour as her eyes trailed from the floor to him.

“Oh, the tutor...” she muttered just above a whisper.

Her voice held barely a tone, no judgment or offence; as if she was reading a statement printed on a document.

Tsuna gave her a polite bow, keeping his expression neutral but cordial.

“My apologies for not introducing myself in your home earlier. My hero alias is Cielo and I’m your son’s tutor. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Todo—”

“Rei!” she said in a harsh whisper, her nails biting angry marks on her wrist. A moment later, she took in a sharp breath of realization and quickly averted her eyes in shame. “I—I apologize.” Her breath was short and laboured. “Please just call me Rei. Please.”

“Of course, Rei. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

…

…

…

An awkward silence settled between the two, neither one taking the initiative to leave nor talk.

Tsuna hid a grimace. She’s not asking about him…

“Pardon me,” he said, breaking the silence, “would you like to hear about Sho—”

“M—Mom?”

Tsuna turned his head to see Fuyumi who had just turned the corner. Her eyes rapidly flickered between the two, sliding herself in between them.

Calculated movement.

“Good morning, Fuyumi,” Tsuna greeted, leaving an opening to the conversation.

“Good morning, Cielo. I see you— um —met my mother.” Her hand rubbed her collar, in an effort to calm herself down. “W—Well, I’m sure Cielo is busy and all, so mom why don’t you—”

“...mom?”

All heads turned to see Shoto peeking out the door.

Flinching at the numerous eyes on him, he quickly ducked back in. A beat later, he shyly emerged, just enough to see a portion of his turquoise eyes obscured by his red hair.

“I’m sorry for bothering...” he said, little fingers gripping the door as a shield. “I… can’t get the cup. On the shelf. It’s too high...”

Tsuna bend down, meeting his eyes. “I’ll get that for you. You weren’t bothering us,” he assured softly. “Isn’t that right—”

Just as he turned his head towards the women looking for affirmation, what he saw caught his tongue.

Rei was frozen. Eyes blown wide, her pupils constricted into pinpoints. Her gaze was trained at the subject of her ire, in fear of the phantom disappearing and sneaking up on her again.

She barely registered the pain in her jaw from biting down so harshly. All the air was vacuumed out of her lungs. Her throat convulsed, threatening to strangle her. The cold sickle of death mocked her, raking down her back just enough for the chill of dread to contort her limbs. Her muscles felt like it was shrinking into her bones. Her stomach sloshing with bile, the acid spread to her organs.

Red.

Red.

Red.

Overtaking.

Vile.

Snake.

Poison.

Blue.

Blue.

Blue.

Nothing.

Only him.

Not her.

Dead.

Red.

Fire.

Blue.

Him.

RED.

BLUE.

HIM. 

RED. BLUE. HIM.

RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM. RED. BLUE. HIM—!

“Okay!” Fuyumi interrupted, cutting into the silence. She walked towards Shoto, who looked at her confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Shoto, Cielo will get the cup for you. Right?”

She gave him a desperate, pleading look. But what he saw wasn't just a sister wanting to protect her brother but also distress.

“Of course,” he replied, not dropping his neutral smile. “Come on, Shoto,” he whispered as he ushered him back inside, making sure his body was in between him and his mother. “Let’s get a little treat. Fuyumi picked up Wild, Wild CocoNeko yesterday. The dark chocolate one too!” he offered, trying to ease whatever caused Rei to act as if she had a gun pressed into her temple.

Although he looked back over his shoulder, Shoto complied. As Tsuna closed the door behind him, he saw Fuyumi guiding her mother somewhere else.

Shoto sat hunched over, a frown on his face. But thankfully he was present enough to take the drink. Hopefully that meant Fuyumi was quick enough so that Shoto couldn’t see the expression on his mother’s face. Or perhaps, he couldn’t understand its meaning beyond discomfort. Thankfully, Tsuna didn’t see him hyperventilate or see any other such major responses. But who knew about what he couldn’t see?

“Is mom going to be okay?” Shoto whispered under his breath. “Mom’s been getting more sick. I don’t want her to be sick…”

“I… I hope so.” Tsuna closed his eyes before maintaining his neutral state. “Shoto, I can’t say if I'll have an answer but please remember that I'll always listen if you want to talk.”

He looked at him confused but nodded.

For the rest of the morning, he made sure Shoto was okay.

Later, after sending Shoto back to his room, Tsuna sighed, his face threatening to meld with his clasped hands. He wasn’t (really) a hero nor a trained therapist. He had no training, professional or otherwise, nor the right to sink so deeply into another’s family’s problems. But it was so clear, so blatantly clear with just one look on Rei’s face that the Todoroki household was broken and fractured in ways he couldn’t mend with a simple month-long stay. Even if it did aid the immediate problem, with his departure so close, the aftermath could hurt them more. It would be the equivalent of taking them out of a burning building only to leave them in the freezing cold. But he also couldn't do nothing.

Silent support would only go so far, especially when he was an adult in this situation. He could go to the police on this one, but would they even listen and act in a prompt and respectful manner? He's seen the foster system throughout his life with fractured and displaced families and, although he saw good ones, he didn't want to make losing bets especially when the stakes were people's lives. Would the report hurt them more? How did the hero system interact with the foster care system? Japan wasn't so forgiving towards outcasts, especially towards "grown" children like Fuyumi. He can only imagine Quirks would add to the marketability of children in the system. And how would that intersection affect children of known, public figures? What would happen to them after, since, Endeavor was the sole breadwinner of the family? Yuki, their aunt, would most likely take them in but that wasn't fair to anyone. Besides, that wasn't a decision he could make on his own. A part of him just wanted to take them out of here but would they even like that?

Especially for Fuyumi since...

He hadn’t felt this useless in a long time.

Goddamn it, what do I do?

He took a deep breath.

There was no sense in overthinking, he felt Natsu comfort him. Even limited, he still had time.

But first thing's first: he had to check up on Fuyumi.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long to find Fuyumi; rather, it was she who found him.

He had hoped to bump into her before the day ended— he wouldn’t blame her if she left to take a breather.

Although it wasn’t as tinged with the same desperation and panic as Fuyumi, he understood that she had taken the difficult role of a mediator. He’s seen it from watching Kyoko, Chrome, and especially the Simons go through their own struggles defending someone they loved despite conflicting public opinion or evidence. The fear of losing what little you have was a frightening feeling. So you try to step around, make excuses for it, avoid confronting it. His friends had families and companions that supported them. He could only hope Fuyumi, at the very least, had the latter.

He only took a few steps into the hallway when he saw Fuyumi pacing around. She flinched when she saw him, taking a moment to compose herself. She opened her mouth before chewing on her lips and avoiding his gaze.

“I’m sorry you had to—”

“I was just going to make some coffee,” Tsuna said, leaving the door open. “Or tea, if you’d prefer. You’re free to join if you’d like.”

He walked back into the kitchen and started heating the kettle, hearing soft footsteps behind him. He heard the creak of the chair and felt the tension prodding his back. A few minutes later, he placed a mug in front of Fuyumi.

“Not a traditional marocchino but I have it on good authority that sweets help heal the soul,” he joked lightheartedly. 

Sitting down across from her, he took a sip of his own. A bit too sweet for what he was used to but Kyoko and Haru made it for him a couple of times in the past.

She took the mug and held it in her hands, her fingertips squirming. Her eyes kept flinching away from his, words caught in her tongue before it met the air.

Tsuna took a sip. “How’s the trip planning going?”

She fidgeted, still holding the full mug in her hands. She tried to smile at him but it came off as worrisome instead.

“It’s… It’s going okay.”

He nodded. “Make sure to bring a chargeable fan and a mosquito net, depending on where you all go. Ah, but you don’t need to hear it from me, you’re responsible enough—”

“Why—” Her hands balled into her lap. “—aren’t you asking me?”

Tsuna took a moment. “It’s not my place to question you. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair,” she muttered under her breath. “Aren’t you curious?” she asked with resigned bitterness. “Everyone else is.”

“I won’t say I’m not… wondering nor am I a stranger enough not to have already pried into some aspects of… all of this.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t hold the power to start the conversation, you do. And it’s your decision if you’d like to continue.”

Whenever the topic of family came up, Fuyumi’s smiles were rehearsed, stiff, and artificial. In a constant state of anxiety and stress, to save herself by appeasing others, she took a string and a needle. She stitched the corners of her lips to her cheeks, mimicking permanent happiness like those old embroidered dolls. He didn’t blame others for not noticing, the string was of the same colour and length. Who would notice the difference from one altered doll from another?

But still, she was young; her stitches not yet perfected. He could see where frail and jittering hands had left a gap, a knot here and there, and even if the thread she chose was right, it was old and fraying, reused over and over again. 

“We’ve got a weird family dynamic, right? I mean, what family barely sees each other?” She gave a sardonic chuckle, weaving her hands together in her lap.

“It can’t be all bad if Natsuo has a sister like you,” he quickly added, trying to redirect. “He might not show it often but he really does admire you.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s only because I’ve taken care of him instead of mom,” she said with a sad smile. “The one he looks up to is… our eldest brother.”

“Toya? I’ve heard Natsuo mention him a couple of times. I would’ve loved to have met him. From Natsuo’s stories, he seemed like a firecracker.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “He reminds me of one of my friends.”

“Oh… um… that’s… that won’t be possible anymore.” She scratched the back of her neck, squirming uncomfortably.

Shit, stepped on a landmine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring him up like that. I had a feeling Natsuo was…”

“Optimistic?” Her lips were drawn into a mirthless smile as if someone was pulling on its stitches.

“I’m truly sorry for bringing him up. It wasn’t my place to.”

“It’s fine,” she said like a recorder that had been played back a thousand times before. “You didn’t know. You only heard it from Natsuo after all. It’s not like many people even knew of Toya. He was always stuck inside, you know? Poor… health and all— it was inevitable. We all knew it was going to happen someday.”

“Fuyumi...”

“Really! It's really fine, it’s not a big deal—”

Fuyumi gasped at the sudden arms embracing her, head stiffly leaning against Tsuna’s chest. She couldn’t see his face but something in his body language conveyed a sense of empathy. Not one filled with pitiful apologies like she’s heard time and time before but one of knowing and the willingness to share the pain. It was warm… So warm…

She could’ve easily broken out of it at any time. She wanted to, out of shear embarssment, but something inside her compelled her to stay.

“...sorry,” Tsuna said, breaking the hug and raking his hair with his hand. “I— Just seeing you trying to smile through this was… unbearable."

It reminded him too much of Takeshi. Of Haru. Of Kyoko. Of being the lending ear, of having them bear the emotional weight of others, of being the emotional crutch he didn't value nearly as enough in his youth.

"You’re so young... You bear responsibilities of others and make them happier for it. I'm not faulting you — never that — but it's a pyrrhic victory; you shouldn’t have to make a face like that in the first place.”

Her voice hitched, not knowing her hands had left her lap and was instead holding onto his arms. “Haha… I—It’s fine—”

“Are you really, though?” he interrupted. “Please, don’t think about me or anyone else. Just for yourself. Your thoughts, your emotions, your life. Are you really fine?”

“I’m…” She bit her lips. “I’m...”

Fuyumi heard from one of All Might’s interviews that meddling in someone else’s business was the essence of a true hero. Was this why Cielo was like this? Was this why he seemed to care more than her own family did? Or was this because he was an outsider looking in?

She’s heard apologies before. She’s heard the self-serving and the empty. She’s heard the sincere and the empathetic. She’s heard the curious and prodding. At this point, a cheerful “I’m fine!” was hard-coded into her response.

What else could she say? No, I’m not, let me dump my problems on you? No, she couldn’t burden others. Her family was already suffering through so much: her mother was losing the few strands of sanity she had left, Natsuo and Shoto were just children, and Toya—

She knew of her failings. She knew that she was avoidant. She knew that she didn’t help them either. So if she became selfish, she would be a poor daughter and a poorer sister. The sibling who had it the best couldn’t begin to compare with her brothers.

And he tried. She worked so hard to avoid the problem. She tried so, so hard staying together. She could see the scortches and frays on the already fragile thread binding her family together. She feared that anything now would tear it completely.

She’s seen first hand what sharing her problems did to her mother. That look of guilt and shame, the apologies spilling from her mother’s mouth as she cried in front of her all those years ago— she hated it. She could still feel the weight of her hands bruising her shoulders, see the stain of her tears on her clothes, hear the strain of her chalk-filled throat piercing her ears. She felt her feet shrink in her slippers, she felt her body grow smaller, she felt the room get bigger; it was as if she back back in that room as a little girl, hunched over with her knees tucked in, covering her ears with her pudgy hands, hoping her parents would just stop yelling and fighting with each other!

Scared.

She hated making her mother feel this way. It scared her. It scared her more than her father ever could.

She learned her lesson. She didn’t want to burden her mother, or anyone, with her problems again.

After all, that’s what heroes did, right? Smile and grit through the pain? All Might said a hero should always have a smile on their face to reassure the people! She may not have been her father’s ideal choice (or society’s) but she didn’t need a strong Quirk to support the few remaining people in her life.

It worked too.

It was good.

It was normal.

It was security.

Her relationship with Natsuo was closer, her mom stopped bawling her eyes out every time she saw her— if she saw her. And the heat of her father’s eyes felt cooler (as if she felt them much in the first place). He still had his signature scowl but he seemed to ignore her and Natsuo when they passed by each other.

Fuyumi still remembered the time when she stuttered out a greeting, skirting to the safe haven of the walls. The moment her father ignored her, was the moment she knew she wasn’t even on his radar anymore. She released the breath she was holding. He walked past her barely giving her anything but a glance.

It felt liberating! She wasn't held to unachievable standards! She had it the best out of all her siblings! He didn’t care about her anymore!

But, at the same time, he didn’t care about her anymore.

Any hope she had of him being a father she longed for was... not gone entirely but given a reality check. She didn’t know why it took this long but once she realized that... she quickly buried her emotions deep inside her consciousness. There was no time to despair! Not all hope was gone. He still fed and housed her and Natsuo. He still cared in some way...right? Yes. Yes! She should be grateful for the things she had. She wasn’t without food, water, shelter, freedom, education, future career opportunities, or material wants. That’s so much more than much of the populace in similar or worse situations.

So, she was fine! Completely fine! Besides, she was already a teenager! Practically all grown up! Unlike her friends and their parents, she didn’t have any expectations to live up to! She could make her own decisions and choose her own fate. She was fine.

She was fine.

She was fine.

She. Was. Fine.

Are you okay? — they asked.

I’m okay!! Stop looking into things! 

I heard what happened to—

It’s been hard but we’ll get through it! Don't look at her family just look at the hero!

I’m so sorry about—

It’s no big deal! We each have our own independant lives!

Are you fine?

I’m fine!

Are you really fine?

“I’m…” she licked her lips, mouth dry from trying to formulate an answer.

He was staring at her now. Staring with acceptance, regardless of if she chose to answer. Patient and understanding.

Undeserving. She was undeserving.

Stop.

Stay.

Please don’t look at me.

Please see me.

Tell me I’m okay.

Tell me I’m not.

Just get it over with and stop torturing me with hope.

What could she say? Yes? No? He was no fool; he's seen it already. How could she answer someone who had been nothing but kind and honest with her filthy, lying tongue?

Fuyumi curled into herself, unconsciously trying to make herself smaller, unable to look at someone like him in the eye.

“I...” she breathed out, “I’m...”

“It’s okay to say you don’t know,” Tsuna asserted gently.

He felt her fists tighten around his sleeve.

“There’s no shame in not knowing. Feelings are difficult, I know. You may think I’m an adult so I got my life all figured out but I also struggle with saying things I want. I’m not perfect— far from it actually. I can barely control where life takes me and I still trip over my own legs sometimes! One time I was in a super serious business meeting and I nearly tripped over the carpet. Thankfully, I caught myself but a clumsy brother of mine tripped and we fell down anyway.”

Tsuna continued to recount some of the more silly tales about himself, sensing her slight confused amusement through the fog of her burdens.

“Look, I’m going to be frank so feel free to stop me or leave at any time. I don’t know where you heard or saw that you need to smile through your pain but they’re wrong. I get what they’re trying to say. I get it.”

A dull, unfocused look briefly passed over Tsuna’s eyes.

“But part of growing up is realizing that some of the things you once valued were not as great as we would’ve wanted. Whether that be a possession, person, or thought— it doesn’t matter. That’s why we grow. We learn and find alternatives that we didn’t see before and you shouldn’t feel shamed for it. You shouldn’t need to cover others for it. You don’t need to defend yourself. You don’t need to lie to others or, more importantly, to yourself.

“So I’ll ask you again.” Tsuna moved back a bit and crouched so he could meet her glossy eyes. “And remember what I said. You always have the choice to refuse to answer.” A pause. “Fuyumi, are you really fine? ”

Fuyumi bit her lips, fists shaking from the chill circulating her body. Breathing was hard as if the air got heavier. Her throat ached, vision blurring from the tears pricking her eyes. But even through her hazy vision, his look was so sincere. No judgement, no lies, no pleasantries, not even pity. Just a genuine want to listen.

She wasn’t the crying type. Not like this, at least. She learned from an early age that tears got you nowhere. The last time she cried was from the villain attack when all hope was lost. And before that, she didn't want to recall.

So why was she crying? Isn’t this supposed to be a happy moment? Wasn’t this what she’s been searching for all along? Someone who wanted to help her? So why...?

She opened her mouth, fighting her instincts, a leaking out a hushed, “I— I don’t know.”

With those three simple words, the dam broke. She barely registered the screaming in her ears from the tightening in her throat.

Wait.

Was that her?

That ugly voice was her?

No, no, no! She had to stop it. Crying didn’t help anyone! Could Shoto and her mother hear her?

Please don’t look at me! Please don’t hear me!

She didn’t want to burden him. She didn’t want to be so weak! She—!

She was embraced.

He said no words. He rubbed soothing circles on her back, the other hand gently lying on her head. She could see the damp spots on his shirt, her wet cheeks resting on his shoulder. Her make-up stained the white fabric. Her body was limp as if she was a passenger in her body.

Don’t look at me.

Her fingers twitched, breathing erratic, teeth clattering. Her heart beat through her ears, hammering her throat. Her grip tightened. She had never felt more present in her body.

Please look at me.

“I— I don’t know. I’m— not! We’ve— I’ve never even had the chance to properly mourn for Toya!” she whispered harshly, her breath straining her vocal cords.

But she couldn’t stop; her words flowed out like a river. Being held like this, being reassured to continue, it felt like she was a child again. A kid that could run to her mother without reservation when a scary part of a show came up on screen. She felt as if the pair of oversized shoes she forced herself to walk in disappeared, leaving behind her childish pairs. As if she went back in time before she had to grow up and bear the burdens, where she was allowed to be selfish and cry and scream and make a scene.

And despite it all, someone would still hold her and say she was worth listening to.

“Barely anything is left! Just a few school pictures and that’s all we have left! I had to tell Natsuo some fake story about him running away! Auntie wasn’t there and he kept asking! Mom couldn’t say anything! Dad didn’t say anything! No one said anything! He kept asking! I didn’t want to! I didn’t want to lie! No one else was there! I hate it! I hate lying! I hate hearing Natsuo talk about him like he somehow escaped. Like as if growing up means we get control of our lives! I hate seeing Natsuo everyday with his hopeful face that Toya would be back like some knight to fix this house. I hate that I have to agree with him! I hate that I have to lie to his face again and again— I hate— I hate… I hate myself for giving him that. T—That hope…”

The lens of her glasses her fogged, her breath stuttering in waves.

“I’m tired. I’m so tired. I just want to give up and, I don’t know, scream? Just scream till my throat bleeds. I just want our family to be like others. Like all my friends'. I don’t want to come home everyday feeling happier that I’m ignored. I don’t want to come home to a family where I can’t help anyone. I want to see them again. I want to see Toya again. I want to see mom again. I want Shoto and Natsuo and dad. I want us to be happy. I want us to be a family."

She hiccuped and swallowed her voice threatening to burst out of her throat.

“But that’s stupid, isn’t it? I’m just trying to live out some fantasy. I know that. Being like this won’t bring anyone back. I’m not doing anything. I’m barely changing anything.”

Please hear me...

Tears spilled forth as if she was confessing a great sin under an alter. Admitting to every burden she bore, every time she thought about running away, every time she wished she could skip to the happy end like in the shows she watched. Tsuna didn’t say anything but a few reassurances that he was listening.

Tsuna’s hold tightened around her as if he was trying to shield her away from the world. He could feel the heat of his burning orange eyes, his blood boiling acrimoniously. He had to grit his teeth as not to curse. He couldn’t— wouldn’t —make this about him. He knew his anger wouldn’t comfort her— perhaps Natsuo or Shoto to an extent, but not her. That was the only sobering thought that quelled his seething rage. So he let her cry and muffle her screams into his shirt, her nails digging into his arms. None of that mattered. This poor girl— this child had these burdens pressed upon her for what? Years? Since she was born? This was a small price to pay if he could ease her burdens even by a fraction.

Fuyumi swallowed her spit, throat dry and splitting from overusing her voice. Her cries turned into sniffling and soft hiccups. Her hold eased up a bit but still clung onto him as if he was going to disappear if she let go. Her head was buried in the crook of his neck, eyes red and swollen, the heat radiating off her skin.

“I’m— I’m sorry. I burdened you with my troubles,” she mumbled, exhausted, into his shoulder. “You don’t deserve this. You’re a hero, not a therapist. You shouldn’t be burdened with my— me.”

“I’d rather hear your voice than hear your placation,” he reassured softly, “and you’re right. I’m not a therapist. I’m no magician, either; I can’t just say a few words and make things all better. I take a gamble on if what I say will help others. But the least I can do is hear others out.”

He leaned the side of her head against his.

“You keep on giving and giving but you can’t give from an empty cup. Before others, please learn to help yourself. Appreciate what you do and who you are. You’ll find that once you start helping yourself, you also help others. Don't silence your emotions. Silence the voices that say you’re a burden, the voices that say you’re not doing enough, the voices that invalidate all that you do and are. Remember that none of this should be your burden. Fuyumi, you shouldn’t be, no. You aren’t responsible for your family’s actions. You feeling like this, you thinking like this, only reflects the failure in us adults.

“It’s difficult, I know, to unlearn what you thought was the truth. It’s complicated. You love your family yet at the same time you feel these crowded, negative emotions. But that only exacerbates the guilt. You start questioning yourself: am I really a good person? Is what I’m doing making everything worse? Am I deserving of this? Of their support? Then the pain starts eating away at you, perpetuating the cycle.”

Fuyumi sniffed. “...Have you felt this way before?”

He closed his eyes. “I did. I did so many times. Even now, I sometimes feel that way. Sometimes it really was my fault which only complicated everything further.”

“...How do you know? How do you know the difference?”

He gave her a gentle smile. “I can assure you that our situations are different. But the bottom line is: you’re not at fault. But to answer your question, it’s not easy. It’ll take time and effort. There isn’t a catch-all method either. But remember this: you can understand someone without agreeing with them. You can love someone without condoning their actions. And you can hate what a person is doing without hating the core of their being. You can love someone but that isn’t the same as trusting them.

“‘Forgive and forget’ is such a people-pleasing saying, isn’t it? That saying should only be used for something reversible, safe, and inconsequential. It shouldn’t be used at the expense of your own sanity.”

“...”

“Like I said, there isn’t a fixed method but start off knowing who you want to be and who you are currently. It’s hard, especially at your age when you’re trying to figure out the world. But remember that growth doesn’t have a fixed timeline. You’re growing; you’ll make mistakes, you’ll fail forward, you’ll reach success.”

“But I’ve done nothing to help them…”

Tsuna shook his head. “That couldn’t be further from the truth! Look at it this way, when Natsuo grows up, should he feel obligated to feel like he was a burden on you? Should he say his child self did nothing and carry that guilt forever?”

Fuyumi let out a weak breath. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Exactly! When you can’t tell the difference between the irrational voice in your head and you, remind yourself of that. Being hard on yourself won’t help anyone, it only makes the doubt seem stronger. I don’t want to tell you what to do but please don’t be so hard on yourself: past, present, and future. That doubt in your head? Kick their ass and tell them to fuck off because no one else but you is in control.”

Fuyumi chuckled softly at the sudden contrast between his comforting voice and his language.

“I never want to hear you apologize for feelings. How you deal with these emotions and revelations are what matters. It’ll take time, but you’ll see that the best you can do for others is to start with yourself. So don’t apologize for this— saying your true feelings. You’re an amazing person, Fuyumi. Not by anyone else’s merit but your own.”

Tsuna backed away a bit, giving her an encouraging look.

“Your kindness and tolerance is a blessing and an incredibly useful skill to have. But when your kindness starts to compensate for others, nothing changes. Rather, your pain becomes a constant expectation. You’re allowed to get angry at the situation— at your parents.”

Fuyumi did not, or rather could not, answer him at the time. But her silence was more progress than Tsuna was ever hoping for.

Chapter Text

Tsuna hunched over, still in his futon, eyebags begging him to go back to sleep. He barely got a wink, mulling over the words he said to Fuyumi: Did I overstep? Did I say anything unnecessary? What could’ve been better said instead?

He groaned as he rubbed his face. Rationally, he knew it was unlikely that he said the wrong thing but his overthinking mind tended to yield to emotional uncertainty.

Regardless, he went through his usual morning routines until he got a particular message from Rosemary.

Several documents, both informative and legal, detailed a raid on a Trigger supply house. An investigation had only opened a short while ago but the mission’s priority shot up when it was discovered that they held explosives as well. While the cartel mostly handled the import and transportation of Trigger, the more alarming danger came from its backdoor dealings with the locals, especially the young ones. It seemed like a small section of the warehouse sold directly to affluent teenagers who wanted to "test out" their Quirks. While not great, their advarice allowed an undercover hero to get in.

The plant managed to leak information about the criminals’ Quirks and general time schedule. Not only that but due to the revelation of potential hostages in the building, the HPSC requested the UHPPS to send underground heroes with Quirks that were fast and discreet. 

The raid was planned for Thursday.

Tsuna hummed pensively. “I hope the machine isn’t fixed during the raid.”

While most accidental trips through time and space were uneventful, there were two specific times the Vongola fixed the machine during a battle. While Tsuna usually got an estimate a week in advance, the actual moment of the portal opening ranged from instantaneous to waiting through a 24 hour period (with the warning for that coming in just a few seconds before).

The first time, Tsuna barely got a two second notice from Spanner before he accidentally blasted the portal that appeared behind the enemy he was originally aiming for. With it being sensitive to Flames, it took over a week to finally get back home. The engineering duo only shrugged and said that he was lucky it was only a week since Tsuna wasn’t fighting at his maximum capabilities. A full blast could’ve been anywhere to a month to who knows how long. 

The second time though, it wasn’t his fault! Of course, of course, nothing went right when the Tenth Generation Vongola Guardians were involved. Shoichi gave him five seconds this time but with Hayato throwing grenades at the enemy while yelling orders at a charged Ryohei, Takeshi swinging his blade as he tried to calm down a panicked Lambo, Kyoya and Mukuro fighting each other as much as they were fighting the enemies, and Chrome keeping Don Cavallone alive amidst all the chaos, was it any wonder how they were stuck in Primo’s timeline for three additional months?

Comedy worked in threes and Lord knows Lady Luck fancied herself as a jester.

Tsuna sighed. He was hoping to talk to Endeavor that day. He didn’t want to confront the man when he still held lingering bitterness — discussions with previous emotional baggage usually led to unyielding and more resentful outcomes. Especially with how much the mafia had influenced him. Considering the delicate nature of the Todorokis, he wouldn’t confront Endeavor directly but web and hem his way into knocking some sense into that man. Hopefully. He wasn’t as adept in linguistic manipulation as Mukuro and it often exhausted him more than an actual fight.

Friday it is then.

Besides, Natsuo was coming today and with how cautiously excited Shoto was, he wanted to set aside some time for the two brothers. 

The sun was just barely peeking out as Tsuna stood in front of the Todoroki main entrance, going over the details of the raid on his phone. According to Yuki, Natsuo had all but demanded to see Cielo the moment he stepped into the house and who was he to deny the boy?

Not ten minutes later, he heard a click.

He chuckled to himself as a sleepy Natsuo sluggishly slid open the door.

The boy yawned, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, one strap of his backpack sliding off his shoulders. When he finally registered a presence, he only thought to greet his sister until he saw—

“Cielo!”

“Welcome back, Natsuo,” he replied as he caught Natsuo who nearly tripped running towards him. “Still sleepy?”

He nodded, a drowsy albeit pleased smile on his face.

“You still have a few hours until breakfast. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Nooo…” Natsuo drawled. “Wanna play with you and Natsu…”

Tsuna shifted Natsuo so he could carry him on his back.

“Later,” he replied with a fond look. “So rest and I’ll wake you when breakfast is done.”

Natsuo mumbled something incoherent into his shirt, eventually evening out into a soft snore by the time Tsuna tucked Natsuo into bed.

“Okay, and now try this one,” Tsuna said as he placed a block of ice in front of Shoto.

Shoto put the Godzillo speciality candle to the side, slight condensation creating a puddle below it, the wax slightly deformed from trying to balance putting out the fire and melting away his attempts.

Although he didn’t like the lack of control he held, his tutor had praised him for his progress.

Shoto stared at the block of ice, spotting a blocky All Might pencil case inside it.

“Remember: balance. You don’t need to rush.” Tsuna took a mop, wiping away puddles of water. “And guess what?”

Shoto blinked.

“This is a special pencil case. Do you know why it’s so big?”

He shook his head.

“There’s a game inside!”

He back and forth between it and him with a bewildered face.

“If you’re curious, you just have to melt the ice,” he teased, putting the mop away. “Just like before.”

Shoto took a deep breath and placed his left hand on the ice, the chill melting before his heat. The first part was easy in these exercises. He just had to defrost the object, emitting as much fire as he could until it got to a manageable level. The problem was when he got close to the object inside. 

Tsuna observed carefully as Shoto melted the thicker layers of ice, the mat below absorbing the pooling water. Whenever he thought his fire was getting too close, he calmly used his right side to create some wiggle room.

In the candle exercises, his job was to put out the fire using only his ice with a secondary objective of making sure any remaining ice was gone. Shoto hadn't quite gotten to the point where the a potential, quicker solution was to create a layer of ice on his hands and manually put out the fire by pinching out.

While Shoto excelled in the output of his Quirk, Tsuna wanted him to learn how to think — especially through loopholes and exceptions. After all, his intructions left room for Shoto to get cheeky.

Still, it was in stark contrast to when Tsuna first started this type of precision and balance training where Shoto would panic and lose control of his Quirk if he messed up. It was incredible how fast Shoto adapted to his instructions and the situation. No doubt if he honed those talents, he would become an amazing hero.

Shoto exhaled a puff of condensed air as he reached a point where the object was encrusted in a thin layer of ice. But instead of using his fire, he tapped the side with his finger before looking back at his tutor.

“Are you finished?” he asked.

Shoto nodded. “I think if I hit it, it’ll break.”

—After all, the boy was more than just his Quirks.

“Good job, Shoto!” Tsuna wrapped the case in a towel so it would defrost naturally with menial mess. “See how fast you learned from last time? Good judgement.”

Shoto’s lips quirked up as he hugged the insulated case close to his chest.

When Shoto first started this exercise, he overshot his fire and the object inside was burnt. It progressively got better until Tsuna nudged him in the right direction: would using his Quirks really help in this situation? The lesson was about training his Quirks but the objective was to retrieve the object. Not every solution needed to have Quirks involved — a sentiment that seemed forgotten in this universe.

The next time when Shoto reached that point, he grabbed one of the garden rocks and smashed the leftover ice. The issue was that the object was brittle from the temperature fluctuations and became brittle. Next time he tried using gravity and while the object didn’t break, it was slightly dented.

So Tsuna was extremely satisfied when Shoto learned how to stop; inaction didn't necessarily mean giving up. Not only that but Shoto was quickly learning what kind of materials held up well or were prone to his elements. It would serve him well if he wanted to be hero and keep control of his surroundings.

It definitely helped when he switched the objects into things Shoto would likely want to save.

And speaking of rewards…

“You won’t have afternoon training today,” Tsuna said as he cleaned up the mat.

Shoto looked up at him with a slight frown. “Hero work?”

“No, no. But I do have something planned if it all goes well.”

He gave him a curious look but nodded. He trusted his tutor that whatever he had planned, it wouldn’t be bad — fun even.

“Alright!” Tsuna clasped his hands. “Let’s break for lunch!”

“You could’ve woken me up,” Natsuo whined as Natsu drapped himself over his lap, his tail swingly lazily across the floor.

Tsuna scratched Natsu’s chin. “I tried but no hero can’t beat sleepiness.” Unless there was a Quirk for that… lucky bastard. “Besides, didn’t you only wake up a while ago?”

Natsuo looked at him, agape. “How did you know? I— I mean…”

Tsuna chuckled. “You just confirmed it.”

Natsuo plopped his head down and groaned into Natsu’s fur.

“Did you eat, Cielo? My sister made really good karaage today.”

“I did.” He didn’t. After sending Shoto for lunch he pretty much came straight to Natsuo. “And I have a favour to ask of you.”

Natsuo titled his head, his chin on Natsu's belly fur, shooting him a curious look.

“You see, after giving Shoto your letter—”

Natsuo gasped. “You gave it to him?”

“Should I have not?”

He shook his head. “No! It’s just… I thought, I don’t know, you’d be too busy or something. It’s stupid so…”

Tsuna shuffled his hair. “He kept all the ones you sent to him. He looked very happy about having such a great and caring brother.”

Natsuo froze before his eyes found the ground. “But I’m not that great.”

“Of course you are. Would a bad brother send those cranes if he didn’t care?”

“But...” He shuffled his feet, biting his lips in shame. “But I didn’t… Not at first...”

Natsu flipped over, softly nudging him with his nose.

He swallowed. “The paper cranes I— When I first made them… it wasn’t for him.”

Tsuna hummed contemplatively. “Was it for your mother?”

He nodded. “I missed mom and I heard from auntie that mom and auntie used to fold origami when they were young. So— So I made cranes and threw them outside my window because mom’s room was right below mine.” He frowned. “It didn’t reach. I tried planes too but it still didn’t work. It aways fell into the bushes. But one time it fell on the grass. I— I didn’t want him finding out so I was going to pick them up but then I saw Shoto picking them up. 

“And I kinda realized that I’d never actually seen Shoto be happy. I barely saw him at all after…” Natsuo shook his head. “S—Shoto doesn’t know it wasn’t for him. I’m not a good.”

“So you think you tricked your brother?”

He nodded, twiddling his thumbs. “I don’t even know anything about Shoto. Just that he’s my little brother and he has both mom’s and dad’s Quirks.”

“...yet you still sent paper cranes to him. Why?”

“I don’t know. Shoto looked happy so I...”

“Did you feel guilty?”

He nodded.

“Do you want him to be happy?”

He nodded but with more strength.

Tsuna let out a sigh equal aparts affectionate and pissed. It truly was a show of character that Fuyumi and Natsuo managed to be this strong. Even he could see how Shoto was (somewhat) emotionally stunted so it surprised him at how mature and kind Natsuo was.

“Natsuo,” he said gently, gaining his attention, “do you know what I think? I think that someone who makes the effort to do better can’t be truly a bad person. Trust me, I've met really, really bad people. I think that big brothers who want to make their little brothers happy can’t be a bad sibling.”

“But it wasn’t for Shoto… I lied.”

“I know, I know. But how would you have told him? How would he have known? You said it yourself: you later created those cranes for Shoto. Do you feel sad or angry that Shoto got your cranes instead of your mother?”

He looked at him in disbelief and furiously shook his head.

Tsuna patted his head in reassurance. “Do you know what I see? I see a caring big brother who loves his family a lot.”

Natsuo wrapped his arms around Natsu's collar, soft Flames gentle and soothing, and held himself there.

“You made your brother very happy when he felt very lonely. You helped him. You showed him you cared — still care. And what do we call people who help others?”

“...a hero,” Natsuo replied, his voice muffled by Natsu’s fur.

“Exactly. Sometimes, strength isn’t all about how many villains you can beat. It’s about kindness. It’s about making your best effort. I’m sure even All Might himself would say you were a hero to your brother.”

Tsuna exchanged a look with Natsu as they saw Natsuo tightening hug. Natsu curled his tail around the boy, making sure a paw was on the ground as to not crush him.

“You know, if you’re ready, you can go see him. I know that Shoto would love to play with his big brother.”

“But dad—”

“Isn’t here. And if anything were to happen, I’ll be here,” he affirmed resolutedly.

“Okay,” Natsuo said, lifting his head up to meet his eyes. “But you have to be with me too.”

Tsuna shuffled his hair. “Of course, for as long as you want me there.”

Chapter Text

When Lambo, I-pin, and Fuuta first joined his household, he distinctly remembers how much he wished his room had soundproof walls. And a lock on his door. But despite the occasional fights, banter, and time travelling shenanigans, all the kids became friends rather quickly.

So while it wasn’t a surprise, he had definitely hoped Natsuo and Shoto would at least make some menial small talk.

Tsuna watched from across the room as the two sat silently, legs tucked under as if they were greeting a yakuza boss. Actually, it was really close to how the Nero Famiglia’s Wakagashira greeted him during his trip back to Japan a year ago.

Natsuo tried to stifle his squirming, quickly looking away whenever he met Shoto's eyes.

Shoto, unknowing of Natsuo's discomfort, waited patiently, staring at him intently. Surely with the neatly stacked papers and colourful art supplies his cool big brother had something planned.

It truly was unfortunate considering how much Natsuo had planned for this — telling him about how he was going to show Shoto his hero collection, how he would teach him how to draw said heroes, and how they'd learn about what they liked to eat.

But his backpack remained closed as soon as Shoto looked up at him. The last time he saw Shoto infront of him was before the incident.

Natsuo shot Tsuna a pleading look to which Tsuna gave him an assuring nod.

Tsuna knelt to their level, making sure he had enough space between them as to not place himself into a position where the boys talked through him instead of with each other.

“Natsuo, don’t you think we should introduce someone very special to Shoto?”

Tsuna couldn't help but think the boys' same owlish stare was adorable.

“Someone special?” Natsuo parroted.

“A certain someone I only showed you. My partner.”

“Natsu!” Natsuo gasped, an excited smile forming. He turned to Shoto who was trying to match his big brother’s energy, looking between them. “He’s a lion that’s super cool and nice! Do you like lions?”

Shoto had only seen lions on the television when his mother watched nature documentaries a long time ago. He couldn't remember them all that well but nodded anyways.

Tsuna placed his hands behind him and partially obscured by his mantle, he released Natsu who immediately curled up behind him. He lifted his cape as both boys leaned in, trying to take a peak at the glowing lion.

“It should be fine,” Tsuna justified. What was the worst that could happen? Besides, Shoto wasn't the type to leak secrets.

“Natsuo already met him but Shoto,” Tsuna said as the lion took a step towards them, “meet Natsu, my partner.”

Shoto stared, transfixed. He was a pretty orange. He wasn't exactly like the dogs he's seen outside that wandered the streets at night but he wanted to pet him all the same. He’d never seen a lion, let alone one on fire. He could feel that the creature was wary of him but something about it told him it wasn’t out of fear or maliciousness.

Natsu took another tentative step forward, Natsuo’s presence encouraging him. “Gaowr?”

“He’s a bit shy around new people,” Tsuna added as Natsu curled up against Natsuo, its eyes never leaving Shoto.

“Yeah he’s super nice,” Natsuo added, rubbing his face against the fur. “Isn’t his Quirk super cool? Like Cielo’s!”

Shoto reaching out before retracting. The fire must not hurt if Natsuo and and Cielo touched it. But what if Natsu didn’t like him? Was it okay for him to touch?

“Like Natsuo,” Tsuna thought to himself, observing his reactions.

Sensing Shoto’s turmoil, Natsu took a slow step forward, making sure the boy had ample time moving away if he was uncomfortable. He pressed his nose against the back of Shoto’s palm, gently podding at his hand and chuffing, making sure his muzzle was closed so as not to frighten him.

While he was used to warmth on his left side, it was the first time Shoto felt something so warm and soft on his right. Gaining a bit more confidence, Shoto reached over to pet Natsu, the lion curling up against his body, his tail flickering with mirth.

Shoto couldn’t help but melt against the warmth.

“Isn’t he super soft?” Natsuo asked.

Shoto nodded. “...not-fire like fire.”

Natsuo bounced in his seat, reaching for something in his pack. “And look! Cielo’s fire can do super cool things! Like… this!” He whipped out the autograph, Sky Flames still burning brightly.

“Woah…”

Encouraged, Natsuo quickly emptied the contents of his bag. “I have more hero stuff too!”

He started to show off all the hero memorabilia and merchandise he accrued over the years. Starting from the most common All Might toys to the rarer collector items.

With each new thing, Shoto marvelled at the sheer amount of cool and interesting heroes. Natsuo even had a plush of Godzillo! Feeding his excitement, Shoto shuffled next to Natsuo, listening to his brother explain how he got the holographic Odd-Eye pro hero card from a class field trip to the Mustafa Hero Museum.

“It’s super duper rare too! Odd-Eye isn’t on the news a lot but he’s super cool and he uses his Quirk, Mind Reaper, to ‘Reveal the Abyss Within!’—” He placed a hand over his eye dramatically. “—and even without a single punch—” He swung his arm. “—he beats the villain! He talks a lot and I can't understand most of it but it is cool.”

Natsuo handed Shoto a little action figure of a… well, what could be described as a female All Might.

“And this one I got at the gift store in the International Hero Costumes and Items Exhibit. It was really cool seeing old and new hero stuff!” 

Shoto held the object with both hands, careful not to drop or accidentally melt it.

“Star and Stripe is so cool! She’s been the number one in America for super long and she has a super cool Quirk that can do so many things like Cielo! She has super cool sidekicks that have these super fast planes that whooosh! And look!”

Natsuo held up a packet of gummies with an American comic-style graphic of Star and Stripe’s exclaiming, ”Power UP with an Energizing Snack!”

“I was saving this one until something special happened.” Natsuo opened the packet and held it up to Shoto. "Try it!"

There was a second before Shoto took a blue jelly from the pack and chewed it carefully, not expecting the flavour that came through.

Natsuo popped a white one. “This is the Cola-flavoured. The one you had was blue raspberry.”

“I thought it was blueberry,” Shoto muttered, his tongue slightly blue.

“Here, try this one,” Natsuo handed him a red jelly. “It’s cotton candy. Isn’t it good?”

Shoto scrunched his face. He nodded, hoping his true thoughts weren’t as apparent.

Natsuo snorted. “You can spit it out if you don’t like it.”

Shoto blinked once. Twice. And let the jelly tumble out of his mouth.

“Gross!” Natsuo yelled, half amused and disgusted. “I meant, in the trash, weirdo.”

“...sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Natsuo took a tissue and threw the jelly away. “You’re a baby and bigger siblings take care of the littler siblings!”

Shoto pouted. “I’m not a baby, I’m a kid.”

“You’re my baby brother, so you are a baby.”

“I’m older than a baby.”

“But compared to me, you are a baby.”

Shoto opened his mouth to retort but closed it. He technically wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t right, either.

Natsuo shuffled around his backpack, taking out another bundle of snacks. “I think you’ll like this one. And this one too…”

Unbeknownst to the two boys, Tsuna had stepped out in the midst of their conversation. He didn’t want to interrupt a family moment and was sure Natsu would be enough of a grounding presence for the both of them. Sharing a look with his partner, he knew if anything came up he would be notified at once.

By the time Tsuna came back with some drinks, the boys were already a few pages in, drawing mostly heroes he’s never heard of or vaguely knew from Natsuo. Shoto was likely too young to judge but Tsuna had to wonder if Natsuo was like Hayato with UMAs or if his level of knowledge was just normal in this universe. Noticeably, they drew All Might quite a few times. What he didn’t expect was them drawing him.

“No. Cielo’s fire is orange,” Natsuo corrected.

Shoto drew along with Natsuo, trying to copy the shapes and colours. “But his Quirks are fire and ice.”

“Yeah but that’s your colours. He’s orange.”

“Oh.”

“I think it still looks cool, though,” he assured while drawing an orange ball next to his drawing of Tsuna. Was that Natsu?

Speaking of, the lion seemed to have found a comfortable place behind the boys, watching over them like a lioness and her cubs. His ears flicked as he watched Tsuna place snacks on the desk, both boys not realizing he came in (or left at all for that matter).

He motioned Natsu to follow him to the engawa, where he could supervise but not interrupt the boys. He only got a quick look from the two but being reassured that he wasn’t going to leave, they turned back to drawing heroes.

Tsuna took in the dusk air as Natsu sprawled across his lap on his back, tail swaying rhythmically. He could hear the boys talking behind him but the partition gave him privacy to relax under the moonlight. He idly played with Natsu’s paws, feeling a sense of childhood nostalgia. Although his childhood home wasn’t as nice as the Todoroki’s, he sometimes missed his youth where he napped in the comfort of his own bed, hearing his family talking downstairs as the smell of his mother’s cooking slowly wafted into his room.

Although he always held a sense of homesickness, and as much as he teased his friends about a vacation, he truly was grateful for the opportunity to wind down and relax. At least in this world, the threat of death wasn’t as constant. Besides, he got to help the Todoroki children. Perhaps not as much as he wanted or could’ve but nevertheless, he knew the importance of having someone, anyone, listen.

To think Endeavor thought a military bootcamp style of parenting was good. As much as Reborn, Lal Mitch, and Colonello trained him, they weren’t his parents. Mentors, demonic mentors, sure. But they never isolated him. He was shown how to survive in a universe that would assuredly kill him, either through the Vongola’s sins or his own youthful and wilful incompetence. 

So Tsuna couldn’t help but wonder what that man had gone through, to what extent he would would go, to be shaped in such a way.

“It should be time,” he thought.

Tsuna turned the dial on his ring as Spanner’s voice reached his ears.

“Hey, Vongola.”

“Hey, Spanner.”

He could hear a deep breath. “We have some good news and bad news.”

He groaned. “What else is new. Start with the bad.”

“Well, technically, it’s all one news — both good and bad.” A pause. “We got everything fixed and set up.”

“...and?”

“We’re opening it up in about two days, your time.”

“Two days!?” Tsuna whispered harshly. “Where'd the heads up go?”

Spanner drawed out his response, sucking on his lollipop. “Well, the fix is kind of experimental so…”

Ah, so they didn’t “fix” it. They experimented.

“And if I delay?”

“Probably a one to four months-long fix?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, Natsu butting his head on his chest in a show of solidarity.

“That’s way too long. Why’d you guys always start getting new ideas at the most inconvenient times?”

“It’s called being an artist.”

“This patron feel scammed.”

“Sorry, no refunds. You’re stuck with me in every timeline.”

“Tell that to Byakuran,” Tsuna said, resigned. “How are—”

Tsuna cringed as a mechanical screech pierced his ear, followed by one-sided arguing.

“Is that Ryohei and Lambo?."

“A storm is imminent.”

Tsuna agreed. The amount of damage was propotional to how fast Hayato was finished assigning the maritime missions.

“Well, better pretend I was working on this thing so I don’t caught up in all that. See ya.”

“What do mean by—”

Click.

Tsuna sighed, already feeling the sleep deprivation migraine. “I guess my 'PT day' will come right after the raid.”

Checking the time, Tsuna returned Natsu and opened the door, alerting the two boys.

“It’s 10. Time for bed,” Tsuna said as he saw Natsuo pout and Shoto’s shoulders sag.

“Can we stay up for just a little longer?” Natsuo asked.

Tsuna shook his head. “You both need rest. Hm… How about this? Since I’ll be out Thursday for hero business, I’ll only have morning training with Shoto so you two can play for the rest of the day.”

While he would love to give Shoto a day off, consistency was vital in training. For a beginner, even a consistent low-intensity training was more helpful than the inconsistent high-intensity ones.

“We can watch movies!” Natsuo added. “I have scary ones I used to watch with—”

“No horror films,” Tsuna interjected. “Let’s keep it not-so-scary with Shoto, okay?”

“Okay… Oh! There’s a cool one that I got a while ago and it’s super fun! It’s about these really cool hero detectives that solve a thousand year old mystery! One of them has a dinosaur Quirk and another one has stretchy powers and another one controls water and there’s also one that—!”

“Let’s not spoil the movie for Shoto,” Tsuna interrupted. He felt a little bad since Shoto listened to Natsuo's every word with rapt attention. “Come on, to bed.”

As they headed to their respective rooms, a small nudge to his mantle stopped Tsuna in his tracks.

“Yes, Shoto?” he asked, kneeling to his height.

“Can I have the thing too?” he muttered under his breath. He looked away for a second before looking back, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “The one you gave Natsuo…”

…oh!

Tsuna grinned, it was great progress that Shoto was beginning to ask for things. “Of course. But tomorrow, okay? Sleep is very important.”

Shoto nodded, a giddiness in his step as he went back into his room.

For the next three days following their reunion, the two made an effort to bridge the years.

It was a surprise to Fuyumi when she saw her brothers walk into the kitchen together during lunch. Not since when Shoto was but a baby did they even share a room together. When she asked if their father allowed it, Natsuo grinned mischievously and instead asked her if Shoto could have some kakigōri. Shoto held up a block of ice in his hands as an offering. Fuyumi couldn't help but laugh, thanking him as she got the ice shaver.

Shoto experienced first-hand why Fuyumi was often in charge of meals when Natsuo created an unholy trinity of shaved ice, ramune syrup, and way too much salt he called "sea salt" icecream. He did not like the taste of the sea.

The two also watched cheesy movies as Natsuo made fun of the tropes while Shoto watched confused but sharing in his brother’s energy. Fuyumi also joined in for an episode or two, giving her recommendations of shows she liked as a kid their age.

Shoto got to experience eating popcorn for the first time. It was weird and he didn't like how some of the fluffy bits would get stuck on his teeth. But it was strangely addicting nonetheless. After an emergency call (and a snack run), Tsuna came back to Fuyumi scolding Natsuo that using Shoto's fire to pop popcorn was dangerous since latter likely wasn't immune to oil burns.

No, Natsuo. It is not appropriate to "dare" Shoto to beat the microwave.

It still didn't stop them from trying to freeze or cook food from the fridge though.

Fuyumi was just glad they didn't put an egg in the microwave.

Good news was that Fuyumi got a little helper in the kitchen as Shoto seemed to like watching the process of cooking and his sister's praises.

In another timeline, the three Todoroki children would've never shared the same table. In another timeline, Fuyumi wouldn't have known how much Shoto loved to watch and learn how to cook and write. In another timeline, Natsuo wouldn't have known Shoto's favourite was cold soba. In another timeline, Shoto wouldn't have drawn and played together with his siblings for fun.

And they certainly wouldn’t have continued this little tradition beyond these few days.

But this was not that timeline; relationships and circumstances had changed.

But some things were too late to be changed.

Just two days later, after the raid on the Trigger supply house, Tsuna was greeted back into the Todoroki household with the anguish screams of a mother and her child.

Chapter Text

Tsuna rolled his shoulders, still a bit sore from the raid. Good news was that the plan was a success with minimal injuries and no casualties. Since the tip about the hostages turned out to be a ruse to by the Trigger dealers themselves some shipments were missing but the police and heroes could deal with that. They shut down a big supplier and he was sure the police and local heroes would handle the stragglers and customers. So all in all, a successful mission.

Meeting the heroes were interesting as well. And that one underground hero. He reminded him of Lancia and Monsieur Alaude. He certainly had the work ethic to match.

He yawned, making sure is hood was secure. Usually he would’ve committed to a better disguise but he had no energy for it. Besides, who was going to pay attention to him? This neighborhood was pretty much dead this late into the day, so he could enjoy the stroll back before his inevitable "parent-teacher conference" with Endeavor.

He’s indulged in strolling a few times before when he needed a break from… everything really. Just a quiet moment to himself. He was half-tempted to bring out Natsu, but that would be too reckless.

So…

Why did the silence in the air feel so unnatural?

Were these his nerves? It couldn’t be. He wasn’t frightened of Endeavor and if he did try to do anything to his family by proxy of him confronting him, Tsuna would have good justification to get physical. Not that he wanted to, of course. Despite his misgivings towards the man, settling things with words were always preferable. Even if he were to be labelled a villain and impeached in this world, he could just hide until he went home. And the Vongola Hero Network could easily supplant the ownership to Basil and Rosemary.

So, there was nothing to worry about besides the migraine he was going to have talking with someone who was so head-strong.

But then, why did his heart drum in his chest with the wind nipping at his heels?

Tsuna swallowed and turned the corner, just a few more paces in front of the Todoroki residence.

It was quiet.

His eyes furrowed. Nothing seemed out of place. There weren’t any signs of a break-in or the smell of iron so—

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Tsuna shot towards the house, breaking the door open as he heard shrill agony followed by an ivory chill.

It happened all at once: Rei running towards anyone— anything, impacting the wall, Shoto wrapped in her arms, flailing, his body contorting, both screaming and crying, both covered in ice and steam—.

“I’m so sorry, Shoto!” Rei wailed, “Please, no! No! NO!”

Tsuna quickly rushed to her side, spotting the towel pressed into Shoto’s face. “Tell me what you need.”

“The burn! The burn!” Rei could barely look up at him through her tears. “Help him. Please, help him! Please! Please! Please!”

Shoto unleashed another shriek, the pain tearing his cries from his throat.

Tsuna didn’t hesitate. His Sun ring flared to life and, in a half-cradle, bathed the boy in his Flames.

Rei could barely get any more words out, her ribs constricting her lungs, staccatoed breaths pushing haze into her eyes.

“The light, my Quirk, is healing Shoto,” Tsuna reassured. "It should lessen his pain as well."

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry, Shoto—!”

With one hand, Tsuna unclasped his mantle, cloaking both of them. “Miss Rei. Miss Rei. You need to breathe.”

“All my fault—! Shoto—! Shoto—!"

Her crystallized tears bit into her numbing skin.

“Miss Rei," Tsuna spoke in an even tone. "I’m here to help. Concentrate on your breathing. Stay in the present.”

She could barely see him through the haze and tears.

“I know, I know. Breath with me. Shoto is in less pain.”

Shoto’s cries turned softer, into hiccups, instead of choked gasps. 

“Follow my breathing. In… Out… In… Out… In… Out… Yes. Good. You’re doing good, slowly stop your Quirk. I’m here to help—”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

“What’s going on!?” Endeavor’s hurried steps echoed through the halls, frozen at the sight.

His son was hurt. Rei lost control of her Quirk, crying. Both were covered in ice. His son was crying.

The memories that haunted him lived again.

He gritted his teeth. “Rei! What did you—!?”

“Endeavor.” Tsuna commanded through gritted teeth, a firece glare locking him in place. “Call the ambulance. Do your job, hero.”

He screamed, he screamed, he screamed, he screamed.

It hurt.

It hurt!

Breathing. Hard.

Screaming.

Mother.

Biting heat.

Searing cold.

It hurts. Please make it stop!

He saw mom in the kitchen—

It hurt.

He just wanted to show mom the drawings he made with Natsuo—

It was so hot.

If Fuyumi was happy to see him so maybe mom would too—

It was so cold.

If Natsuo was happy to see him so maybe mom would too—

He couldn’t see. It hurt. It was so hot.

He saw his mom. She saw a monster.

It hurt.

Fire was pain. It was all his fault.

Ice was pain now.

Can’t breathe.

Ice was hot.

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

This was all his fault.

Damn Endeavor—

Damn Todoroki Enji—

Damn his father!

Mom hurt. He saw. He hurt mom. He hurt mom a lot. He made her hurt him.

Everything was his fault.

Can't see now. Just black.

It hurt so much.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts—!

Warmth.

Familiar warmth.

It still hurts but it wasn’t hot and cold anymore. Mouth. Open. Air.

He could breathe.

He heard sounds.

Sirens and talking. Lots of people talking. Rumbles and shakes.

A man. Scary. Don’t like it.

His mom. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.

His tutor. Please help her.

“Good news is that his sight will make a full recovery.”

Rei was crying, blood and tears smeared on her shirt. Enji could feel his muscles unlocking in relief.

“But the ice caused damage to the skin tissue which—”

Rei tensed, the brief moment of relief being swallowed up by the rippling guilt. She could barely register what the doctor was saying.

This was it. 

This was it.

How many more pieces of her children did she have to ruin with her own hands? Why could she not say the right words? Do the right things?

A debauchery of a mother.

The virtue of a hypocrite.

The reprobate of a wretch.

Selfish. Weak. Coward.

Murderer.

Rei did not fight, she did not protest, when Endeavor cuffed her wrist with his hand and dragged her near-limp body into a car.

She could not think. She could not feel. She could not care.

She only knew that a truly cruel type of clarity befell her.

Chapter Text

When the ambulance arrived, the medical staff only allowed Shoto’s family to follow; only Rei was allowed in the car and only Endeavor was allowed to visit. Clutching the disgarded mantle in his hands, Tsuna tried to say something. But any retort that he had lost its words when he heard soft footsteps behind him. Seeing Fuyumi’s and Natsuo’s horrified faces and tremors, he relented. As shitty of a father Endeavor was, at the very least he would make sure Shoto would get the best medical care.

Someone needed to be here for the rest of the kids.

“C—Cielo?” Fuyumi prompted, as the paramedics drove off. “What going on? We heard screaming. What… what happened to Shoto?”

“He’s—”

“He didn’t burn himself out, right?” she whispered, hearing cruel irony snicker.

“No, no. He’s… injured. A burn. I’m not sure of the whole situation myself. But I started healing him as soon as saw them.”

Fuyumi swallowed, the memories wedging her voice in contracting throat. She subconciously squeezed Natsuo's hand behind her. The hand on her collar that was once self-soothing, made red streaks on her skin.

"Okay, okay," Fuyumi muttered to herself like a mantra. "Okay."

She took a deep breath as Natsuo was looking to speak—

"Was it bad?" Her voice was faint as if she would speak her worst nightmares into existance.

Tsuna took a moment. "If I'm honest, I'm not sure. But—"

"You can heal, right?" she asked, her voice craking at the end. "Like you did with us? You can— did heal him, right?"

"Sis—"

"Are you in the headspace to hear everything?" Tsuna gently questioned. "I can at least be sure Shoto won't be in critical condition."

She nodded. Despite feeling like she was an observer in her own body, she had to know. She couldn't afford not to.

Tsuna noticed, deflating a bit. He didn't like being the bearer of bad news but living in ignorance wasn't an option.

"Alright. But if it gets too much, stop me or leave. Both are fine. Understood?"

She nodded again as Tsuna made sure to consider how to word what happened. 

"I don't know how Shoto got the burn. I don't know how long he had the burn. I don't think the ice 'cooling down' said burn helped either. I tried healing him as best as I could but you know that my healing isn't perfect."

Fuyumi subconsciously picked at her fingertips, the skin still leathery.

Natsuo grasped her fingers tighter.

"I healed him as best as I could at the moment. Shoto should've been in less pain and the ambulence came quickly. I can't say I know what's going to happen but we got through the worst of it."

"Okay. Okay. Okay." Fuyumi took a deep breath, trying to release her tense muscles. "I— I guess we just have to wait."

Natsuo shot her a startled look. "But Fuyu—"

"It's all we can do. It's... going to be okay, Natsuo," Fuyumi reassured her brother, trying to muster up a smile. "We'll just wait until mom and dad get back and—"

Natsuo bit his lip, whipping his hand out of hers in indignation.

“I want to go! I want to go see Shoto!” he shouted back with balled fists.

“Natsuo?” Fuyumi said shocked. “You— Go... Go back in. I’ll tell you what happened later, okay?”

He gritted his teeth and stomped his foot. “No! Sho… Sho’s my little brother, too! I want to see if he’s okay—”

“Natsuo!” she harshly whispered. “Just... Just stay home, okay? I promise I’ll tell you—” 

“Stop lying!” Natsuo covered his ears with his hands, his foot stomping the ground beneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears pricking his lashes. “Stop lying to me! That’s all everyone does!”

“Natsuo…?”

“You’ve been lying to me too! You’re going to lie to me again!”

“What do—”

“Tell me! Tell me what really happened to Toya!”

Her breath hitched.

“I’m not stupid, ‘yumi! I know! I— I didn’t want to know! But I know! I— I know he— he— he d— I know he’s not here anymore. I know he didn’t run away! But you and auntie told me he did. I wanted to believe it. I—I thought it was because I didn’t know better. I thought it was because you knew more than me. But you didn’t. You’re a liar. You’re going to lie that Shoto’s okay—! But then he’s not gonna be—! And—! And—! And—!”

She stared at him, unable to counter the truth.

“And I won’t be able to do anything again.” Tears slid down Natsuo’s cheek, hiccups struggling against his words. “I’ll be weak and useless like before. I wasn’t there for Toya and I wasn’t there for Sho. I— I don’t want to keep living like this anymore! I don’t want to see mom and Sho hurt— I don’t want you to be sad— I don’t want to feel like this anymore…”

Natsuo aggressively rubbed his eyes with his arms, trying to stifle his hiccups.

Fuyumi knelt down and hugged him, each burying their face in the other's shoulder, their arms tightening as if the other would disappear. As if the other was next on the chopping block.

“I’m sorry,” Fuyumi apologized, “I’m so sorry, Natsuo.”

Natsuo sniffled, his word muffled. “Why can’t I do anything for him?”

Tsuna knelt, placing a hand on his head. “You still can.”

He peeked his head out of the comfort of his sister's hold, seeing eye to gentle eye.

"After Shoto gets home, be with him. Even if he’s healed from his wounds, he’ll still want someone to be with him.”

“But I won’t be able to fix—”

He softly shuffled his hair. “No one’s asking you to.”

Despite her back turned towards him, Fuyumi could feel that his words were meant for her as well.

“Just be there for him when he’s recovering. I promise you, that’ll help more than you realize.”

Tsuna wrapped his mantle around the two, a familiar warmth caressing them both.

“Now, let’s get back inside. If we catch a cold, I’m sure Shoto would be sad.”

Tsuna was well aware that Fuyumi and Natsuo wouldn't get any restful sleep today— maybe the next few days until they succumbed to exhaustion.

They all huddled up in the living room, Fuyumi and Natsuo sitting on the couch together as he sat on the adjacent one.

He looked around, the once silent living room being the siblings' hub of laughter and joy just hours before. Hopefully, it could be like that again.

Both the kids looked exhausted, the incident taking a physical, mental, and emotional toll on them. Coupled with how late it had gotten, it was no wonder why they were dithering between fitful lucidity and fatigue. Natsuo, more than Fuyumi, was flitting between dreams and reality.

Considering the night ahead, he whispered that he was going to get them some water. Partially, so that the kids' physiological and psychological states weren't reduced further due to dehydration, and partially to give them an opportunity to choose their safe space.

Fuyumi immediately joined him, wanting to do anything to distract herself. She wrapped the mantle around Natsuo's body, the fabric pooling around him.

Natsuo looked like he was just about to protest before Tsuna motioned him to look behind the couch, obscured from Fuyumi’s view.

“We’ll be back in just a few minutes, okay?”

He relented and sat down.

Leaving Natsu with Natsuo, Tsuna and Fuyumi silently walked towards the kitchen.

When they arrived, the two worked silently, Tsuna giving her small gestures to invite conversation, if desired.

He was preparing something sweet for Natsuo as well as water. And at least a cup extra for Fuyumi just in case she needed one. He knew from experience that dehydration made you feel worse than you should've.

The silence was broken when he heard her laugh humourlessly.

Fuyumi balled her fists on the counter, staring at her reflection slightly distorted on the surface of the steaming tea.

“I’m sorry we dragged you into our messy family troubles... again.”

What has she been doing all these years? What good was she, as the eldest sister, when she just stood by and allowed such things to happen to her brothers?

Why did she continued to ignore the problem?

Why couldn't she just talk to her mother and father?

She talked to Cielo. She managed to him and yet she couldn't tell her family what she told an outsider.

After she spoke to him, after he listened to her, in the depths of night when she was alone in her bedroom she kept repeating and promising to herself to be better.

Nothing changed.

And look what happened.

Why did she feel trepidation and apprehension?

Why couldn't she just muster up the courage talk to her parents?

Why couldn't she just say something—anything—to them?

Why did she have to hear the pained wails of her brother again?

Why did she have to see her parents' face distorted in heartache and fear again?

Why couldn't she just change? Why was it so hard?

“It’s funny," Fuyumi muttered mirthlessly. "All these years I didn’t do anything— and you come in and it’s like… a fog’s been lifted.”

“Fuyumi?”

“It’s so obvious. It was so obvious what I’ve should’ve done." She curled her toes, trying to hold it in. "But I didn’t." She licked her lips, dry and flaky. "I heard it; I saw it. Everything that happened to my brother and I…”

A weak fist thumped the counter pathetically. She shook her head, taking in a quivering breath before covering her face with her hands, arms propped up against the counter. She had been successful so far keeping it in.

“Again. It happened again and I—”

“Enough.”

Fuyumi flinched, biting her lips. When she looked back, she was swallowed in those burning orange eyes, like the expansion of infinity, as if he’d paralyzed her. Yet she felt no fear.

“There's a difference between did not and can not," Tsuna said, handing her a tissue. "Perhaps you could’ve done something. But so could've your parents. So could've Endeavor. But then what? You could’ve gotten hurt yourself.”

She pressed the tissue on her tender eyes. “I should’ve—”

“No. Fuyumi, I’ve said this before but you place too much of your family's burdens on yourself. You don’t know everything, you can’t. Not to mention, you were a child. You still are a child. I’m not saying you’re incompetent or too young to think for yourself. I’m saying this because you’re human. No one can know everything. Not you, not me, not even someone who can see into parallel universes know the boundaries of human actions. No one.

“The reason why I can say all these things, the reason why I can do all these things you thought impossible, is precisely because I’m an outsider.

“So stop blaming yourself. I know it’s hard, but please remind yourself that you shouldn’t be a martyr for your family. You're a resident of this house, not its foundation.”

Fuyumi sniffed and looked away. Catching something in the corner of her eyes. In the tea, she spotted a girl whose tired eyes looked back at her. She was young. She had glasses and was just growing out of her awkward teenage years. She had white hair with red mixed in and it served her well to disguise the stress. Her expression was solemn with a swollen, puffy face.

The girl, she saw her before. She was smiling before; she was smiling living in willful and blissful ignorance. She saw her every morning when she woke up. She saw her in the reflections of windows when she went out shopping with her friends.

But that wasn’t happiness, was it?

That girl was a child, scared of loud banging and screaming.

That girl was a child, begging for anyone to do something.

That girl was a child, whom she needed to hug and comfort.

Even if it hurt, she couldn’t bear to live in such ignorance anymore.

Fuyumi hugged the mug between her hands, looking back at her own reflection.

“But I don’t know if I can be anything else,” Fuyumi replied as she squeezed her fingers against the porcelain.

“That’s what being young is: finding out who you are,” Tsuna replied with an empathetic gaze. “You haven’t lost your chance at that.”

Fuyumi didn’t reply and Tsuna understood. It was a lot. Today was a lot. Time was needed just to think and when she was ready, he knew, at the very least, Natsuo would be there for her.

By the time the two got back, Natsuo was asleep, a vice grip on the mantle swaddled around him. It took a few hours until Fuyumi also gave into exhaustion, energy drained, falling asleep with Natsuo leaning against her. Tsuna grabbed pillows and a few blankets for the two before stepping out of the house. He wanted to make sure they were safe before he left— even leaving his primary phone number on the coffee table in case they needed anything.

He was sure their sleep wouldn't be restful but at least they were secure.

He had held it in for them; he held it in when Endeavor sent him a message that updated him on Shoto’s condition a while ago. He held it in because he and Endeavor would be occupied until the sun rose.

Shedding the hero's cape, "Cielo" was left behind to protect the kids. It would be Sawada Tsunayoshi who remained to visit Todoroki Enji.

Chapter Text

Enji sat hunched on his office chair, massaging his temples with one hand while the other looked over incoming reports. His emails seemed to load slower than usual, the letters on the documents meshing into an incoherent blob; everything felt so inefficient and slow. With an exhausted groan, he slammed the laptop close, reclining in his chair. He groaned again, resting his weary eyes, crossing his arms to tame his fidgeting.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, squinting at the only source of light being the descending moon from his windows which still couldn't fill the void in his office.

It was silent— so silent.

(Just like the aftermath of the roaring forest fire).

There was no one to interrupt him, no one to hinder him. No one left.

(With one less soul in his house).

But still, he was in control— he had to be. He must be.

His hero office.

His tower.

His commands.

Yet the fire raging inside him didn’t wane. Anger and frustration and despair and annoyance swirled inside and plumed like magma with the slightest touch.

It'd been going so well too. Yesterday morning, with Cielo's call to duty, he took the opportunity to test how far Shoto had come. Although he wasn't advancing as fast as he hoped, he was still satisfied with how well-balanced Shoto seemed to be using both his Quirks. All he really needed was combat experience to foster that growth.

Shoto could finally be the one. Shoto could finally be the one to materialize his dreams and ambitions; he could finally surpass All Might. He wouldn't be another tragedy. Once everything was done, once everything fell into place, everything he felt would've been worth it.

It had to.

But then screams rang in the night like an air raid siren; it was the screams of his wife and child.

Didn’t she realize? Didn’t she learn from the first time this had happened? Why did she have to go and ruin everything? Shoto was finally doing so well and Rei destroyed the peace yet again.

And God, why must it be burn scars?

At least now, she was away from Shoto. At least Shoto would make a full recovery in exchange for a scar instead of his life.

Perhaps if she had sought help for her instability, he wouldn’t have been reminded of his eldest again. Perhaps if she had been thinking clearly, she would’ve realized she had a chance with Shoto that she didn’t with their eldest. 

Perhaps if he had— No.

He could not stop. He could not stop for anything. If he faltered even for a moment, everything he built up, everything he worked and sacrificed for would be for naught. With each tragedy, he could feel the rubble under his feet give away and he wouldn't— couldn't be buried alive.

“Todoroki Enji!”

Endeavor shot up out of his chair as a mass of shadow and flames burst through his window, cracks spidering the glass until a shrill erupted, shattered glass impelling shrapnel. The force of the entry knocked over the guest seats, sending the coffee table flying against the wall, his carpet ripped away and mangled. With a screech of his shoes, the shadow stood before him, papers and office equipment whipping around the room in his wake, the room battling between orange and red against the moonlight.

“Cielo,” Endeavor growled, his flames hot and angry. “Breaking into a hero’s office is a criminal offence and a permanent suspension of your license.”

“I’m not here as a hero.”

Tsuna's dark mantle billowed behind him, blending in with the shadows, orange Flames roaring. Endeavor could only see a fraction of his face peeking out of the canopy of hair, eyes like a torrid inferno peering into his.

Tsuna slowly stepped over to the once luxurious guest seat, the fabric ripped and torn from his entrance.

“You know,” he said, adjusting his cuffs. “I was hoping we could build rapport during this session. Talk about how much Shoto had grown. About how he surpassed my expectations for him. About his Quirk, about him —  his tenacity and perseverance. But of course, that would imply this was, at the very least, a palpable situation. But we’re beyond that, aren’t we, Todoroki Enji?”

Endeavor’s own flames bellowed back. “My internal family matters aren't your any of your business. Leave before this turns into a fight.”

He heard a short sigh.

Tsuna had heard many different ways people described his fighting style. But many agreed it was easy to tell when Vongola Decimo was dead serious. It rarely happened — he almost seemed like a different person — but the most catastrophic events were the ones most remembered.

They described the young don clasping his hands together before and at the end of a battle in the semblance of prayer. First with clean hands as if he was but a humble servant — an opportunity to beg a God or a merciful devil as the dead had no voice to read their wills — followed by a mocking requiem as neither angel nor devil judged the living on Earth. Only humans and a merciless arbiter.

“No,” Tsuna replied. “If this were a fight, I’d be nursing a growing migraine by now, since I’ve gotten used to drinking in front of the dead.”

Before he could even question it, Tsuna’s hand shot out towards Endeavor’s neck, propelling them both across the room as Endeavor’s spine collided with his chair.

“This isn’t a fight—”

Tsuna’s other hand had already crossed over to block Endeavor’s blazing arm which had ice biting through his biceps, his knees digging into Endeavor’s chest.

“—It’s an allocution. Sit. Down.”

Endeavor snarled and erupted in flames as Tsuna used his body as a springboard to dodge.

With a jet of flames propelling him forward, Endeavor’s fingers raked the air with a trail of fire as his fists slammed down where Tsuna once was. He clicked his tongue, arm muscles tense and slower than normal. How did the ice not melt off?

“A brawl after a raid," Endeavor sneered, grabbing the nearest object. He's dealt with thugs and villains all his life; the man in front of him had no killing intent. This was nothing but a child's temper tantrum. "You must be desperate.”

Tsuna stepped to the side, dodging the chair he once sat on now but a heap on the wall. “Sleep deprivation is quite the norm, actually.”

Endeavor clocked in Tsuna's subtle form change immediately and went airborne. In a fraction of a second, he sent a meteor of fire raining down, bombarding spears of fire tearing a ripple in space from the heat.

Tsuna enveloped himself in his mantle and, with a hard step and his Flames, quickly pivoted away from the volley.

“You’re aware, aren’t you?” Tsuna yelled as he whipped his mantel away, smoke rising from the force. “What right do you have brooding in your office?”

Endeavor shot forward and closed the distance, knowing that he couldn’t allow the man to gain distance to fire off that blast from their spar.

“You’re smart, Endeavor," Tsuna said, dodging his decoy punch and blast of fire by a hair. "Strong too.”

In hand-to-hand combat, sheer size alone favoured Endeavor over Tsuna. While adept and quick, Tsuna would admit to that as well. The intensity of training, the amount of effort, and the biology of the world favoured Endeavor; the temperature of his fire alone could literally cremate him. And the man wasn't ranked second for nothing.

"But—"

Endeavor noticed too late, as if the air had turned into tar and time had slowed down, that Tsuna was behind him. His ears caught the jet engine whirl followed by a laser piercing his ears. By the time his brain caught up to his eyes, all he could see was the darkness of his office.

“—I only used as much power as needed.”

The last thing he could do was try and distance himself.

Being a hero left no room for doubt, no room to second guess your decision. The ones who did were the ones who were retired, missing, or dead. Even those who didn't hesitate like his father met an untimely end.

So when Enji stumbled upon a golden opportunity to grow the little sapling he’d been cultivating, he ceased it. Shoto, his son, would carry on his legacy. He would be what he could not — the number one hero. He was born perfect: the two halves of him cancelling the other’s weakness. But the boy needed training. Enji knew that better than anyone else. Nothing in life was given, you had to work for it or burn out trying.

Shoto would not be another Toya. Never again.

The moment he grasped the thread of consciousness, he ripped himself out of the abyss. The first thing Enji felt was something akin to burning coldness encasing him.

How long was he out? Was he leaning against a wall? Despite the heaviness weighing down his limbs, his struggling consciousness knew it had only been seconds.

When his vision returned, he found thick sheets of ice encasing his torso. Judging from Tsuna's reaction and the distance between them, Enji could only conclude his body was deft enough to dodge being completely encased.

He gritted his teeth.

"This damned ice!" he thought as his brain struggled to make sense of it.

Normally, Enji would've favoured going up against villains with ice Quirks. Villains who thought their Quirks would be strong enough to freeze him in place. But his Quirk burned hotter and faster. Instead, the ice would cool him down, allowing him to use more intense techniques for longer. But not this ice. This felt and looked like ice but functioned in a way that shouldn't be possible. What in the world was this thing?

What in the world was Cielo's Quirk?

It seemed like the only caveat in this situation was that it was stopping him from bleeding out of his abdomen. It still hurt like hell though.

“What's the meaning of this!?” Enji snarled with heavy breaths, wrathful eyes burrowing into Tsuna's, who was leaning against the edge of his overturned desk.

“Stop.” Tsuna slowly placed his index finger on his lips, his voice slowing to a drawl, the heat of his Flames swimming in the air around them.

“I’m quite irritable at the moment and the sooner you listen, the sooner you can get medical attention. And I have a lot to say to you, Todoroki Enji.”

Enji could see the slight tilt of his head, and although he was much taller than the man, it looked as if Tsuna was looking down at him.

“I believe we’re both tired of your baseless, justificatory imitations of power. You didn’t even notice you were trying to run up a landslide, were you? Only horses need blinders, you fool."

He pushed himself off the desk, a step towards him.

“Were you so insecure of your own strengths? So much that you would pursue power above all else?"

Step.

"Did you enjoy watching your own wife and child break down? Did you enjoy seeing your own children train themselves to walk silently in fear of your temper tantrum?"

Step.

"Did you enjoy trying to cram not one, not two, not three, but fucking four of your children’s lives into your fragile little moulds?"

He stood in front of him.

“Did you enjoy it when you saw your first-born son—?”

CRASH!

The room shook, bits and pieces of the ceiling expelling dust clouds and debris from how hard Enji slammed Tsuna against the wall by the collar of his shirt. The fire around him let out a roar, exploding into wrathful wreaths, threatening to burn Tsuna alive.

Enji growled like a rabid dog, the heat of his eyes clashing against Tsuna’s own. “Don’t you ever talk about my son!”

Tsuna could feel his skin reddening from the exhale of heat but he never broke eye contact. With a shadow cast on his face, Tsuna opened his mouth once more:

“Why haven’t you learned then? Why did you choose this path? You see it; I know you see it. Loss and grief are powerful things but why delude yourself into rationalizing loss through recklessness? You sacrificed the happiness of your own family — even yours — for your ‘dreams’. You’re a passionate man, I’ll give you that. Ambitious. But passion is a double-edged sword. When the truth eventually became too big for you to ignore, you justified it by thinking ‘it’s too late to go back anyways’, didn’t you? Being confronted by that truth hurts, doesn’t it? It makes you question yourself — your resolve."

Tsuna’s anger, pity, and frustration sharp as pins and needles bubbled in his throat.

“You want power as an escape. You want power because you care for them, even I can see that! And that’s why it’s so much worse. Since when did your personal aspirations infect your conscience? When did you allow your ambitions to kill off your humanity?

“What’s going to be your breaking point? At what point will your pillar crumble under the weight of the regrets you harboured? Tell me: do you actually feel any fulfillment in all this?"

Tsuna slowly placed a hand around the arm chaining him to the wall and crushed it.

“Ghhk-!”

Tsuna gave him a pitiful, cold smile after a glance at the crooked arm beneath his fingers.

“I’m impressed,” he commented sardonically, “not many would continue to touch me after I broke their wrist. But you were never one to stop and think, were you?”

Endeavor ground his molars together. “You-!”

Tsuna shushed him like a teacher scolding their student as if he didn’t just casually shatter the man’s bones single-handedly. Ice slithered around Endeavor’s wrist, each crystal crawling its way from his arm to his legs, its fangs grazing his arteries, daring him to break from its vice.

It was high time Todoroki Enji was taken down a peg.

“It’s time for you to bite your tongue and listen, okay? Good. Have you seen how your family looks at you? When was the last time you met your wife’s eyes? Have you ever heard, let alone listened to, her voice? I met her twice. Twice, Todoroki Enji. And that’s all needed."

He sighed.

“And Fuyumi. Have you ever considered Fuyumi as a child? A little girl who missed her childhood? Oh! But she’s just so mature for her age, isn’t she?”

Tsuna dropped his saccharine tone like an anchor plunging down into the ocean depths.

“She shouldn’t be. No sane adult should think forcing a child into the role of a mediator is good. Have you ever thought of why she had to grow up so much faster than the others? To bury her own childhood to seem more mature, thinking the only alternative is guilt and shame?"

Enji couldn't muster up a retort and he couldn't blame the ice.

“What about Natsuo? Do you know how much Natsuo once treasured you despite your blatant disregard for him? Do you know his favourite food or that he likes to draw? Do you know that he wants a father? Do you know, Endeavor? Do you know anything about your own damn family, Todoroki Enji!?”

Tsuna grabbed the collar of his suit, uncaring of the heat whipping his flesh.

“What are you fucking doing with your life!? I’ve spent roughly a month here and yet they were so desperate for someone who’d listen them that they’d rather talk to a man they’ve just met rather than their own damn father! A life was lost and despite it, you have a family who was and still are willing to love you and yet you not only reject them but spit in their faces and say they’re not enough!

“You didn’t lose a son. Your family lost a loved one. So stop using the dead as your martyr! I may not be a parent but I know of loss.”

He balled his fist tighter to stop the shaking.

“You kill a core part of yourself to stop feeling depressed —the rage, the guilt, the injustice of the life taken unfairly.”

Tsuna took a breath.

“But that’s not how you cope. You’re only sticking a cork up a running faucet. Can’t you see that double-edged sword coated in your blood? Don’t you see that you’re hurting those who are still alive? Those who still rely on you? Those who want you to rely on them? Those who are still willing to give you a chance? What are you trying to accomplish? Do you think your actions will appease the dead?

“You can’t. You can’t do shit for the dead. You can honour them. You can remember them. But in a world like ours, the dead remain out of our reach. Anything we do in life is ultimately for the living. There isn’t any catharsis waiting for those who only cling to the bones of the afterlife.

“Mark my words, Todoroki Enji, standing in your hubris will leave you nowhere to go. When you have nobody left, what will you do? What will you do in the future during your funeral when no one is there to lower your casket, much less read your eulogy? Will you carve out your own epitaph?”

His voice dropped several octaves, his tongue hard and merciless, words sharper than any blade, a fury hot enough to melt the ninth circle of Hell itself in his breath.

“Want to bet how long until they stop searching for your body?”

Ice crept closer and closer upwards, choking Endeavor’s neck, a shard biting his eye, crystals mockingly cradling the left half of his face.

"I’m an outsider but I have enough decency to intervene because I can. I was hoping, waiting, keeping my distance so I wouldn’t impose. It seems that was a mistake."

He clicked his tongue.

“See this as a warning from someone who’s been at the opposite end of your situation, even to a lesser extreme. Resentment builds and a man puppeting your life isn’t something that’s easily forgotten or forgiven. It doesn’t matter if he thought ‘it was for the best’ or if ‘my child knows I still care for them even if I never said it’. The scars of trauma persist through even death itself. We can cope, find our own ways to deal with these scars, but we do it for ourselves, not for people like you. It’s pathetic you can’t see the ground crumbling before you. Someone would’ve eventually snapped and the consequences would’ve been preventable if you only listened."

His hands tightened and shook.

“Will you wait until everyone has already left? Or are you waiting for an executioner?”

Tsuna sighed, exhausted. He knew he shouldn’t make this about himself nor press his opinions. He knew he didn’t have the full story, the full picture. This wasn't the first nor last time he would learn of absentee fathers and insecure men. He knew he was doing everything he tried to hold back.

He knew most of all that Sawada Tsunayoshi was a hypocrite.

But he couldn’t stop. He was still human. He couldn’t control the exasperation and indignation filling the air in his lungs, a gas that bubbled and set fire to his tongue. 

"I know men like you Todoroki. I know men who have committed severval wrongs without looking back. And I know you won't change until you have no choice but to be confronted by the truth."

And that could be decades away. All Might didn't seem to wane in strength, wit, altruism, or popularity. It was entirely possible that one lecture here wouldn't completely change him; rather, it would take All Might’s retirement for the situation to truly dawn on him.

Powerful people didn't stop their corruption nor did they desire to change when they were still in their position of power.

But maybe. Just maybe if the Todoroki Enji who loved his family still drew breath, he could appeal to him rather than the facade.

“Just… Just fucking show you care about your family, Todoroki. Don’t turn away from your guilt. This was never about All Might or being a hero. Not anymore.”

His fist laid over the layer of ice just above Enji’s heart.

“Truly consider if your ambitions are worth your family you have left. If you desire to have even the smallest of chances to become a real family, act now. Stop running away from what's happened, hero.”

Chapter Text

Guilt.

An emotion he was all too familiar with. It seeped into your marrow and calcified your joints, making even the greatest of people come to heel.

It wasn’t a snarling, imposing beast but a waif that gnawed between the ridges of your mind.

It just bit a little harder when he saw his wife’s face.

It just clamoured a little bit more when he heard the silence in his home.

It just bleated a little louder when he remembered the mountain set ablaze.

It started as a dream and a goal: to become the number one hero by surpassing All Might. It was the aspiring wish of any hero who wanted to be the best. But his was not just a wish; he had a plan and a goal. He worked and trained his body, mind, and Quirk yet the gap between himself and the hero never seemed to shrink. It only spurred him further beyond anyone’s expectations. Wouldn’t anyone? Wouldn’t anyone want to be the best in their craft?

But Quirks were deterministic; biological. There was a limit to what his body could achieve no matter his effort, no matter his time, no matter the sacrifice. There was only one solution, an idea that many deemed was an offshoot of the Quirk Singularity Theory. He was well aware of the public outcry against the idea but no one actually batted an eye — even more so when the decision made was mutual. If he couldn’t be the best, he could raise someone who was.

He and Rei were in a mutual, cordial relationship. He was well aware of what he was asking for and, even if there wasn’t any romance involved, he wanted to fullfill his end of the bargain. She would want for nothing as he gave her and her family the wealth that they desired. Rei was free to live the life she wanted, spend and dine however she liked so long as the contract was cleared.

They went out on "dates". It was good to create rapport with your partners — career or otherwise. She reminded him of a painting or a sculpture, expression serene and unmoved. Yet in the littlest of moments, like a walk in the gardens, he could see a burst of warmth and life in her eyes. He figured, if that's what she likes, he would get it for her. It was only logical to keep the person you'll be working with sated — career or otherwise.

And in the first month of the new year, their son was born. It was a premature birth and he was smaller than the average baby but he was healthy. Toya had the drive, the mind, and although his Quirk didn’t combat overheating, it was greater than his.

Rei wanted a sibling for Toya so they could support each other. He agreed. If Rei hadn’t suggested it first, he would’ve asked her for another child whose Quirks would have both fire and ice.

But in that moment, for the first and last time, a small part of him — an all too domestic part of him that was quiet as a mouse — wanted another child not out of his ambitions but because he wanted to expand his family. He loved his spitfire of a son. Toya had carried the torch he'd created and so long as he was there to guide him, eventually his son would make that ember his. He couldn't say he loved Rei romantically; he felt as if he didn't have the right to say that considering the contract. She was a quiet and demure woman. Yet she had a certain strength to her that he wasn’t sure even her own father noticed. To enter into an arranged marriage, let alone a Quirk marriage, took mental fortitude and a silent type of strength he respected. Perhaps what he felt then was the closest thing to that concept of "romantic love".

Fuyumi was born a year later, in the month before Toya’s.

Fuyumi was more mild-mannered than Toya who was ardent from the day he could crawl; he was nearly identical to him when he was his age. While Toya also looked like his mother, Fuyumi looked the most like Rei. While he and Rei didn’t love each other in the traditional sense, he couldn’t help but be happy. A small budding happiness so different from when he achieved the top scores in his class or when his rank jumped in numbers.

Fuyumi's birth didn't herald the age of peace nor would her birth impact the world like it did with his heroic achievements. But despite the fingers that grasped his being so small, he felt fuller somehow. Like a weight in his gut that made him quietly anxious yet without it, he would feel just a bit emptier.

The weight became heavier and heavier since that day; it all came crumbling down when he saw Toya’s burns. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t see the champion he raised but an injured child. His injured son.

He immediately stopped all training; Toya’s pained face haunted him in a way no villain had ever before.

But Toya was as stubborn as he was. He threw tantrum after tantrum, refusing to stop. Couldn’t the boy see that he would be hurt beyond repair pursuing this career? Why did he keep insisting on training when he could’ve been outside, doing whatever he wanted, making friends like a normal child? He had told Toya himself that he could do whatever he wanted!

The stress was just growing larger and larger as Toya screamed and cried. He came home with self-inflicted burns every day. Rei had to frequently put out the flames that erupted from the boy’s anger. It was to the point that she kept a basin of water ready during his fits.

He knew the solution he came up with was cruel to his son. Rei said so herself. Both he and Rei eventually agreed to have another child. Not only would this create the child he initially sought out, but it would also show Toya he didn’t have to be the hero of the family. If he could just see the impossibility of the situation, he could finally be a normal, safe child. 

Just like Endeavor who had accepted that he would never be able to surpass All Might.

Natsuo was born in the summer. Though his hair was as white as Rei's, his facial features resembled him more. They both waited with bated breaths until his Quirk developed. But after four years, they could see that Natsuo wasn’t the child that they hoped for. But they could only be thankful that he wasn’t as volatile as Toya and that didn’t inherit his stubbornness like Toya had. Toya even seemed to confide in Natsuo more than Fuyumi, making him a friend.

But in turn, Toya’s self-destructive tendencies worsened as his fourth and final child, Shoto was born. He was the child that he desired. He was the child that Rei had desired. He was the child that would end Toya’s intransigence. Shoto would be the child to being peace back into their family.

None of them expected Toya to try and hurt Shoto. To nearly murder his own baby brother!

Enji had no choice but to distance himself from Toya. He was too entrenched in the hero world. His presence alone kept, even unintentionally, encouraging the boy. Toya was constant and persistent in showing him his Quirk despite the ugly red burns clawing his arms and face. Enji couldn't bear to see that every time Toya stood in front of him, his wounds would grow.

He also separated Shoto and Toya (and by extension Fuyumi and Natsuo). While he and Rei didn’t want to believe Toya would hurt Shoto again, they didn’t want to risk anything. Besides, Shoto belonged in the world of heroes. What if what Toya did happened again?

No. It was better off to isolate Toya from anything and anyone related to the hero world. Besides, he had his mother, sister, and brother along with anything his money could buy. There was no need for Toya to try and come over to this side. That had to discourage him. It had to.

He hired help and trusted Rei to survey Toya at all times. Hero work only got busier the higher he climbed and unless one of them was watching their eldest, the fragile "peace" still lingering in the Todoroki household would collapse completely.

Rei called it “running away.”

He called it “logical.”

One day, his eldest called out to him.

The weight in his gut felt more present than ever.

Toya wanted to talk about his Quirk.

His heart was hammering his chest, pleading to any divine or otherwise that his suspicions weren't true.

Enji lifted Toya's shirt up and saw the angry lashes of burns across his torso.

Unfortunately, he was never a pious man.

He remembers his body moving faster than his rational thoughts. He remembers the numbed sting of his hand as he stood over Rei. He remembers his rage and anger. He remembers Shoto screaming at him. He remembers her tears and her gaunt face, but not her eyes.

Was she scared? Angry? Sad? He couldn't recall; he couldn't bear to look at her eyes — not anymore; it was a truth too painful to confront.

The peace had been nothing more than a facade.

That night. On that night, when the mountain blazed in a raging inferno, he experienced the death of his child, his son.

The heavy weight dropped through stomach, crushing his organs, leaving nothing but a hallow silhouette of its shape.

He doesn't remember much after that. He kept seeing a single piece of Toya's jaw bone nestled in the ashes of a dead mountain.

He didn't want to see it anymore. He didn't want to stop here. He had to keep moving. He wanted to leave this ashen wasteland. He couldn't bear it.

There was no going back now. The path he set for himself was now stained with the blood and what little remained of his child.

But it would all be worth it if Shoto could fulfill his will.

Even at the cost of his own relationships. Even at the cost of himself. Even at the cost of his family.

This would be worth it.

It would be worth it to prevent another Toya.

It had to be.

It had to be.

This was what he thought. This was what he believed. This was his justification.

But that didn’t change the fact he was running away. He distanced himself because he didn’t want to confront Toya. He didn’t want to confront the truth in Rei’s words. He took his grief and guilt and used it as a weapon against his family.

The fire may have been started by Toya, but the fire came from him; he had killed his son.

Why didn’t he go after him that night? If he did, would he have been able to save him? Why did he impose his anger towards Rei than focusing on the root of his incompetance: his concern for his son? If so, would he have had a birthday to celebrate instead of mourning a funeral?

Rei had never been the same after Toya. He certainly didn’t help her mental state either.

Fuyumi went unnoticed. Likely because she wanted it.

Natsuo followed suit. Likely because he was scared.

Shoto held the weight of Enji’s consequences.

It started as a dream and a goal: to become the number one hero by surpassing All Might.

Why did he only learn how to run and never stop?

What… What has he done to his family?

Chapter Text

“Why are you telling me this?” Enji muttered after an extended pause.

Tsuna sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “Because, as much as I hate to say it, might not even wish for it, your desire is human. Not your borderline obsession with All Might; I can see a man wanting and craving affection from a family he hoped to have.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to justify your actions. I hate meddling in someone else’s family because more often than not it always gets mine hurt in some capacity. But I’m not lucky enough to avoid it nor am I heartless enough to ignore it."

A more irrational and sinister yet protective part of Tsuna was still seething. For all that part of him cared, Endeavor could burn in his own flames until his ashes disintegrated. He'd even humour the suggestions he would normally veto from his Clouds.

“But I’m not the one to make that call. Forgiveness and redemption are different things. I don’t have any right to pass judgment on you. The ones you should beg forgiveness from are your family. And a word of advice: don’t expect forgiveness. You can hope for it like any human would. But don’t you dare think you’re owed forgiveness from the people you’ve hurt. But judging from that look on your face, you already know that, don’t you?”

Enji didn’t know what kind of pitiful face he made. But it was likely the most truthful one he had in since Toya’s diagnosis.

As Tsuna dusted his cape and placed a hand over the ice melting under his Flames, Enji was taken back to a conversation he had with All Might. It was during a holdup at a local store.

By his calculations, he would've gotten there in less than five seconds in an optimal spot to take out the villain with minimal infastructural damage and zero civillian casualties. But just when he could see the villain, All Might showed up and in a blink of an eye, the villain lied unconcious and the hostages were saved. All Might was just a second faster.

"I didn’t need your assistance, All Might. This area is under my jurisdiction," he said as the police were making the arrest.

All Might laughed in that good-natured way that made him fester in his own incompetance. "My apologies, Endeavor! I can't help but rush into action especially when there's people in need. Afterall, that's the essence of a hero, wouldn't you say?"

But while All Might was a force of nature embodying a sense of altruistic egalitarianism, meddling because he was the pillar of justice, Cielo was quite the opposite. Both meddled in the affairs of others but Tsuna didn’t do it because it was his job or out of some sense of heroism, but because he sat in the same table with the worst of humanity. He’d experienced pain and saw corruption, sleeping on a bed of lies and walking through corridors of blood. He saw the worst of humanity and he sought to preserve the best — no, the ones who wished to be better. If All Might was the pillar of integrity holding up society, Tsuna was like the crater villains fell into. And if they had the will and made the effort, he would allow them to scale the walls despite the light above being but a pin in the sky.

Not that Enji knew, of course. He had suspicions but his intuition was sharp. Because he felt — no, knew it in his heart that he did not deserve to have this chance. He did not deserve to face this cruel clarity. He knew he should’ve burned on that mountain instead of Toya. He knew there was no going back to what once was. The past was a building block for the present and you couldn't rebuild a tower you were standing on.

But this was his last chance to have something resembling a family. Not just for himself but for Rei, for Fuyumi, for Natsuo, for Shoto.

Enji laughed humorlessly, sounding more like breathy coughs. What a fool he was thinking he had the man read.

“You’re different.”

Tsuna rose a brow. “Hm?”

“A villain in disguise.”

He snorted. “A villain with morals, thank you.”

He sighed again, cracking his stiff joints, not even bothering to give the illusion of that elegant hero he presented himself as. Reborn would be pissed if he knew.

“Well, I’m exhausted, again, thanks for that.”

The Association’s paperwork could come later.

“Make an effort to think, Todoroki. Oh, and get that wrist fixed because I’m not altruistic enough to heal it for you.”

“Healing.”

Shit, he forgot about that. Ahhh, fuck it; that was future Tsuna's problem. He was too tired to think right now.

Chervil reclined into his seat, a hand on the wheel while the other scrolled between work emails and his favourite webnovel. He didn't know why Tsuna called him to Endeavor's hero agency nor did he know how long the meeting was going to be. But honestly, being able to get out of the office was more of a boon than anything.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He placed his phone on the stand and turned his head towards the window.

"Good morn—"

Chervil gasped and jumped out of his car, fretting over Tsuna’s injuries and dishevelled state.

“Ah putain. Did Endeavor—? Of course, it was Endeavor who else could’ve— I swear we’re going to sue the shit out of—”

As Chervil turned his head to grab the emergency medkit from the glove compartment, he saw Endeavor with blood staining his tattered suit, dark bruises littered all over his skin, and burns. Burns on a fire-resistant man—

He took a deep breath and screamed. Yelling at Tsuna in a string of French swears, the meanings of which were comparible to an angry Hayato's verbosity.

“I can’t believe you two! Are you heroes or not? No, are you even adults!? Did you think your actions wouldn’t have consequences!? Ah il ne manquait plus que ça!”

“It’s fine.” “We agreed not to press any charges.”

“Do you think that matters to the UHPPS or The Association!?” He shut both of them up quickly, the only reason as to why they didn’t get an earful being their injuries.

Groaning loudly he told Tsuna to get in the car.

Before he closed the door, Tsuna looked back at Endeavor.

“It may be too late to go back to the way it was before, but it’s never too late to stop. Time isn’t linear. We can’t fix what’s been done but that’s the thing with being human; we can learn from the past and strive to make the future better. The ‘best’ is arbitrary, ‘better’ is attainable.”

“Garçon!” Chervil yelled. “Hospital. Now.”

“Oui, oui Monsieur Cerfeuil, ” Tsuna replied teasingly as he shut the door, all too familiar with that worried-yet-chiding tone from his friends and family.

Endeavor watched as the car drove off, feeling the man’s words echoing in his bones more than the ache of their fight.

He didn't know what he should do next. He knew he what he had to do but that was only a broad goal. What were the steps he needed to take? Even if he knew now, would his actions follow or would he fall back into familiar routines?

He didn't know. He didn't know what to do; he would stumble through bramble of thorns to make things right but that wasn't what was needed. And likely not what his family even desired.

For the first time in his life, Endeavor stopped and turned around. He needed to process everything before he squandered this opportunity. He didn't know what was coming next but this time, he would allow himself to feel and understand the situation before improvizing a doomed plan.

By the time he reached his office, most of his sidekicks had swarmed him, worried about his injuries. He shook his head and gave them a few instructions to contact some rennovators for the office. As he headed towards the hospital, he send a few texts to make sure the children stayed safe while he and Rei couldn't take care of them.

Chapter Text

Hero society was odd. Or perhaps it was his lifestyle that made normal concepts odd.

He had requested a day off hero business but got more than that. Although he didn't tell the Network everything — it wasn't his place to — they said it wouldn't be an issue informing the Hero Association that they wouldn't be able to handle any field work. They told him to take a few days off for "working so hard." Which, although Tsuna was well aware that he didn't slack off, he was surprised to hear. He did work significantly less than he did as a don, so he was pleasantly surprised.

During this time, Enji had hired extra help around the house and judging from the kids’ expressions, it didn't seem like he had come home recently. Or, at the very least, he made his presence scarce during the waking hours.

It took about a day and likely Enji’s influence for Tsuna to be cleared by the hospital to visit Shoto. While stiff and awkward, he could see Enji taking time to convalesce and, like his namesake, make an effort to reflect. Tsuna only hoped the man wouldn't isolate himself out of guilt; avoidance wasn’t exactly conducive to a healthier relationship, either.

Well, it was too early to tell now. This was just the start of a long and arduous journey: redemption took time and active effort. Whether or not his family would be receptive to his efforts was their own choice. But self-reflection was better than complacent ignorance.

Once Endeavor couldn't hide behind the walls he'd built up, he was surprisingly receptive to criticism — which was more than most men Tsuna had met.

Arriving at the hospital, Tsuna signed himself in. The hospital was specifically used for heroes and their families (or those with enough money).

Tsuna wondered if, under different circumstances, he would’ve known the medical staff as intimately as he did the Sun Wards. He’s even been invited to the Head Nurse’s baby shower a year back. Even Faust, one of Ryohei’s best anesthesiologists, framed his headshot and tagged it their best “rent-paying regular” as a cheeky jab (Hayato was not amused).

Heading towards Shoto’s room, it wasn’t long until he bumped into Fuyumi near the vending machines. He could see the tell-tale sign of heavy under-eye concealer masking her exhaustion as she gazed at her can for a good ten seconds before he greeted her.

"Huh? Oh! Hello, Cielo," Fuyumi greeted.

As they headed towards Shoto's room, she fiddled with her can, and he could tell what the problem was immediately. After all, he felt it too. It was the absence of responsibilities after running yourself thin. He was sure the guilt of being unable to "fix" the situation while having time on her hands bothered her.

"Don't forget to take care of yourself," he said empathetically. "How are you feeling? Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

Fuyumi shook her head. “You've already taken days off for us. And helped Natsuo and I. It'd be selfish to ask for more.”

“And I've told you, you should be a little more selfish. Besides, I want to help. You don't need to shoulder this all by yourself. You shouldn't,” he said with a knowing look.

Fuyumi looked away with a pause. “ I know. I’m sorr— I'm working on it.”

His eyes softened as she knocked and opened Shoto's door. “I can tell.”

The afternoon rays illuminated the room, Shoto and Natsuo reading a book together on top of the covers. The small desk next to them was full of colourful drawings and a plate of mostly eaten apples in the shape of bunnies.

Shoto looked up from his book, and despite half his face being covered in bandages, his face animated with surprise and glee at the sight of his guests.

“Cielo!”

With his little brother’s excited cry, Natsuo whipped his around, an equally elated expression on his face.

“You’re here!”

He dropped the book on the bed and rushed over to him with a wide hug.

Tsuna nodded, shuffling his hair. “Your sister got us some drinks. What are you two reading?”

“Hiro and the Stars. It’s a book about a rabbit named Hiro and he’s from the moon and he got separated because of evil space snake villains.”

Shoto held up the book with both hands, showing him an adorably illustrated children's book.

“But Hiro beats them and makes snake stairs to reach the moon,” Shoto added. “And then he meets his family again," he said with a soft smile.

Snake stairs...? "That's nice—"

“Wait, wait, wait! You skipped over the cool parts, Sho! Look, look! Here, Hiro used his carrot ray against the villains! Because snakes can't eat veggies!”

What on earth is this book about?

Natsuo flipped open the book as Tsuna pulled the plush guest chairs for Fuyumi and himself. Although Natsuo took charge of the conversation with Shoto either nodding or adding a few words here and there, there was an unmistakable giddiness in his expressions and movement. Tsuna was glad. Shoto seemed like the type to ruminate on his issues instead of seeking someone for help. He's seen too many children turn bitter at the world, being unable to accept kindness.

As Tsuna watched the Todoroki siblings talk and awkwardly joke around, he leaned back in his chair, a soft look in his eyes. Shoto had a good family.

Later into the evening, Natsuo was picked up by their family’s caretaker. He puffed out his little cheeks, displeased, but left after promising Shoto they’ll do fun things when he got back home. Tsuna had left not long after non-family visitations had ended. Not wanting to leave Shoto alone, Fuyumi decided to stay the night.

As Shoto drew or folded origami, Fuyumi went over the notes and recommendations the nurses gave her. It wasn't anything too hard —  just basic safety notes like how to clean the healing wound or when to give him antibiotics. 

Fuyumi placed the notes in her bag, her gaze shifting to Shoto excitedly drawing Hiro and All Might teaming up together to beat up reptilian villains. Or, he drew two bunnies fighting green squiggles. Either way, he looked hyper focused. And more importantly, relaxed despite everything that had happened.

She was thankful that Cielo had joined them today, considering how heartbroken Shoto looked when they told him that their mother was “recovering somewhere else”. And under that sorrow, she heard the familiar rattling of bars — a growl barely subdued by a clatter of chains. Before Cielo came, just before she greeted Shoto with Natsuo holding her hand, for a fraction of a second, her heart lurched when she saw a similar glint in Shoto’s eyes. It was as if she saw Toya again, eyes mirroring all the strife in the world, nails digging into the leather couch as mom and dad argued, walls not thick enough to muffle their voices.

Yet, unlike Toya, when they locked eyes, Shoto did not look at her with disdain. Toya pushed her away while Shoto welcomed them in. Shoto stretched out his right hand, his little fingers feeling so warm in her hands — warmer than Toya's, yet it did not burn her in the same way.

She was more grateful than she could express. She couldn't take care of her family — of Shoto or Natsuo — yet they still loved her. They accepted her love for them.

Yet, a dangerous part of her heart threatened to break this newfound peace. "Ignorance is bliss" was a moniker she lived with. She didn't want to pry. She had no right to ask Shoto of anything as someone who had never carried the brunt of their family’s expectations.

But she had changed. She was no longer the little girl that could cower in fear. She had to take the crying girl's hand and guide her through life. Because she wanted to grow. Because she wanted to live. Because she had to know what happened that night.

“Shoto?” Fuyumi said.

Shoto looked up with a hum, a doe eye still like those of a child’s.

“You don’t have to answer but…” She swallowed, fully facing him. “How did you get hurt?”

She’d only heard the gist of it from context clues and memories of that night: Something had happened causing her mom to accidentally spill hot water on him. She tried to help... in excess. Cielo helped them. Then, her brother and mother were admitted to different hospitals.

(At odd hours of the night, Fuyumi could still hear their shrieks as if the walls trapped their echoes just to mock her). 

Shoto’s curiosity dimmed to a frown as he looked away. His fingers scrunched the blankets as he curled up.

Fuyumi expected to calm a teary Shoto, to apologise, and tell him to forget about it. But instead, all she saw was a reflection of a self she’d been trying to move away from: someone who had already accepted the trajectory their life had taken — a defeated acceptance.

Shoto placed a hand over his bandaged eye, fingers tracing over the bump where his eye was. “I scared her.”

He grasped a clump of his red hair (like Toya did that night when he was screaming at their father).

“It’s all his fault,” he gritted out. “Mom saw him and he hurt mom.” His voice tapered to a whisper. “I scared her.”

“...Shoto,” Fuyumi said with a nervous realisation she desperately hoped wasn’t true. “Mom didn’t— She didn’t— She didn’t throw the kettle at you, right?”

He curled in tighter, his silence damning.

It wasn’t an accident.

An accident was uncontrollable. An accident held no accusers nor instigators — just victims. An accident was a third-party yanking her hands and forcing her along a path. While many like her father abhorred it, she sought a morbid comfort in it. 

But rarely was anything in life an accident, just unforeseen. If Toya’s death wasn’t an accident but the consequence of her family’s actions, then wasn’t she the same stupid girl in her reflections? How naive and foolish. A stupid girl still living in her delusions, hoping the problem had a solution.

It wasn’t an accident.

“Oh God…” she breathed out, her mouth feeling dry. “...mom. She— she hurt you.”

Shoto whipped his head towards her, his wide, panicked eyes staring at her. He had never seen his sister so aghast, so different from her usual quiet.

She was misunderstanding! Mom didn’t hurt him, their father did!

“I—It’s okay,” Shoto tried to console. “Mom didn’t hurt me, and Cielo was there, so I’m okay—”

…I’m okay.

…I’m fine.

At that moment, she heard the familiar song of a pitiful girl harmonizing with him.

“It’s not okay,” Fuyumi muttered with each breath sanding off a layer of her raw, constricting throat. “It’s not fine! Don’t say that it is.”

He looked at her in shock as she loomed over him. His sister was always so soft-spoken. Yet, he had no doubts Fuyumi wouldn't hurt him.

Fuyumi shook her head, frustration weighing down her legs until she fell into her chair. For a moment, it felt as if no one existed.

She bit her lips, red lines clawing down her thighs. “She hurt you. That’s… In what world… And I didn’t even—!”

“B—But mom didn’t mean to—”

“That doesn’t matter! I’m not saying dad is not at fault but you—!” Her throat caught her words, and she swallowed. “I was so scared when I heard you and mom scream. Because it was the first time you and mom screamed like that. It was so different from all the other nights. I thought it was an accident. I didn’t know mom had hurt you.”

Even when she avoided her parents— no, the reason why she avoided her parents was because her father wanted to separate Shoto and mom from them. But she wasn't innocent either. She chose to avoid them. She didn’t want to see their pained faces. She didn’t want to accept that her mother was leaving her. She knew it was selfish, but she didn’t want her mom to leave her in the house by herself. She wanted her to flee, she wanted her to be happy, and she wanted her to stand up to her father. But her desires were nothing in the face of her mother’s mirthless form, steps echoing in the empty halls of their home like a lingering spirit.

She didn’t want to see it. And now? She could never go back and reach out her hand to that mom. She could never pay back the warmth of her mother’s hands stroking her hair when she had a nightmare or when she led her father away from their rooms, where she and Natsuo huddled together for any semblance of comfort when the walls felt paper-thin against their voices. Her mother now was barely a vestige of her former self.

And Todoroki Fuyumi didn’t do anything. Like she didn’t do anything to stop Toya.

“If it weren’t for Cielo—” Her breath caught in her throat, staring wide-eyed at the wall before turning her head towards him. “If it weren’t for Cielo… Oh my God...” Her voice shook. “Oh my God, if he wasn’t there… I wouldn’t have…”

She knew logically that she was just as much a child as her brothers. But it was obvious from the way they treated her that they never held the same expectations for her as they did for her brothers. She wasn’t conceived to have the perfect Quirk — at least not entirely. She was born to be an equal to Toya. And what happened? And what happened to the one person she had to take care of, and he would've— should’ve in kind?

She tried to avert her eyes from what-ifs; she tried to be comfortable in her imperfections. But children are sensitive and fragile beings. And again, if not for the timely intervention, she could’ve been a bystander walking into another brother’s funeral.

While she didn’t want to believe her mother would purposefully hurt Shoto, who knew with this damned family? She never thought Toya would burn himself out but he did!

If the kettle had hit his head—

If what had splattered on the ground wasn’t hot water but his blood—

If her mother had chosen to end it all there—

The point was that it was a possibility. So, how could she not dwell on hypotheticals?

She didn’t know if having a body to mourn this time would be easier or harder. She swallowed, her hands balled up against her chest, trying to comfort herself. She tried to fight back against the sinking sensation of the room getting smaller, her ears closing up, her breath getting laboured, the warmth on her back—

Warmth?

Fuyumi's sight slowly focused on the room again, her eyes seeing Shoto awkwardly and nervously patting her back as if she were a newborn chick. With a worried yet determined expression, he pressed up against her side, short arms reaching around her back in a half-hug. It was stiff and shaky, touches pressed against her skin before switching back to feather-light. His fingers switched between splayed and joined, unsure of what the proper position was in comforting someone.

“Do you feel bad here?” Shoto whispered, gently poking the centre of her chest and stomach. “Cielo said that if you feel bad there and um… if the bad voices make you feel bad— err, it’s really bad and don’t listen to it. I don’t want you to feel bad.”

Shoto gently moved his hand away, his patting still at an uneven yet unrelenting rhythm.

“Please don’t feel bad…”

Fuyumi could feel the thrums of her heart slowing down to an even beat. This never happened with Toya. Toya never tried to comfort her. His tongue lashed out, fuelled by insecurity. His eyes burned with envy and wrath. Perhaps it was both a blessing and a curse that Shoto, even in his hatred towards their father, still held so much kindness. The palm of his little hand, whether knowingly or not, reached out to her again.

She covered her face with her hands, taking in a deep breath before pulling Shoto into a hug.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I made mom scared.”

“No, Shoto. It’s not your fault, either.”

He pressed his head into her shoulder. “But I scared mom. I made her more sick.”

Fuyumi held him tighter. Was this how he had felt all this time? Just how much responsibility did he shoulder with those tiny arms?

“It’s neither of our faults. You can… you can be angry, Shoto. You can say what happened. I think we both have to stop thinking everything is because of something we did or didn’t do.”

He bit his lips, his little fingers tightening around her back. “But it’s dad’s fault. And I—”

“I know... It feels bad thinking about it.”

Fuyumi swallowed, rubbing small circles on his back. She wondered if this was how she seemed to Cielo. She wondered if he also felt the desire to make the other believe it wasn’t their fault— to try and fix the both of them in the process. She didn't know how much time had passed before she started speaking again.

“You know, a really kind person told me that we can love someone without trusting them.”

“Trust?”

“Like we love them, but sometimes we may not feel happy or safe with them.”

Shoto remained silent.

“I think we should stop trying to find who to blame. Not for them, but for us. I know my stomach feels bad when I keep thinking about it. Do you?"

He nodded against the crook of her neck.

“So, let’s instead focus on right now and later.”

I don’t want you to turn out like Toya — she thought.

“Like all the fun things you and Natsuo did today and will do when you come back home. Like how much fun you’ll have with Cielo and all the yummy foods I’ll make for you.”

If Shoto’s mind worked like hers, he would dwell on the negatives for far too long. She didn’t want him to avoid confronting his feelings or his anger like she did. But right now, she wanted to make sure Shoto knew that anger and bitterness weren’t all there was in their lives. She didn’t want him to close himself off to the world. She didn’t want him to fester in pain and colour his memory with the same brush as she had nor the same hue Toya had.

Fuyumi was well aware that it would take time for Shoto to understand his feelings— she certainly hadn’t figured out all of hers. But this time would be different. She wasn’t watching Shoto peering over the ledge on the second floor of their home in the corner of her eye. Her family was broken and scattered, but this time, they were on the same floor, able to meet each other’s eyes.

This time, she would make sure no one person in the family would shoulder the burden of their family's blood — including herself.

Chapter Text

Tsuna leaned his aching back in his plush office chair, once again thanking Basil and Rosemary for his office design. Taking a deep breath, he prepared for what was coming. There was a message ping from the Science Division yesterday, so he left today’s schedule as free as possible to take the call at a moment's notice. 

Perhaps it was luck from all the misfortune he’s endured that the message didn’t come during one of the most vulnerable moments for the Todoroki children.

Speaking of, the portal was supposed to open up a few days ago, but nothing happened. Even in his sleep-deprived state, he would’ve noticed a tear in space-time. It wasn’t too much of an unusual circumstance; interference and unforeseen circumstances sometimes delayed progress. He knew that from the ping, there wasn’t any danger to his family, but he couldn’t help but be a little worried… for the opposing family. He found that without him, some people thought it was a free pass to be as brutal as they wanted. He wasn’t naive enough to advocate for peace, but at least a more humane method would be preferable. But when he tried to talk to them:

Kyoya threatened, “If you have no valuable input, leave or else.” He still had to spar with him, regardless.

Mukuro taunted, “How presumptuous to order me around. You’ve seen me do worse.” That wasn’t a valid argument!

Chrome justified, “They were badmouthing you; I just gave them equal treatment.” Sometimes, he had to remember Chrome was kind by choice.

He perked up as he heard the tell-tale click!

“How’s every—”

“Tsuna.”

Oh, dear God…

“Reborn…? What did I do this time?” he inquired pensively.

There was a long silence before he heard Reborn’s signature pistol cocking with raucous clatter on the side.

Shoichi cleared his throat. “We told you that a portal was opening up a few days ago, your time, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t see anything. I thought something went wrong on your side.”

“Rest in pieces, Vongola,” Spanner whispered.

Reborn sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous. If I wanted to send a message, I wouldn’t use a method so crass like mutilation.”

Oh no.

Oh. No. No! He was sure he didn’t miss it! His intuition was honed on these things, even in his sleep! The only ways he wouldn't have noticed were if there was a factor that specifically inhibited his senses, if he was dead, or—

“The fight…”

The fight, coupled with his heightened emotions, could’ve seamlessly mixed up the signals in his brain.

Oh, he was in for a scolding now and worse later after he returned. Reborn was never one to forget things, and the longer he festered, the more sadistic he became.

“Finally figured it out?” Reborn chuckled, sipping on his coffee. “Seems like your little holiday dulled your wit. I can’t have a student of mine fall behind so badly, now can I, tutor? ”

He could feel Lady Fortune laugh at him for thinking she ever favoured him. Here’s 100 coins; suffer more for my amusement! — she’d say like some Constellation.

Reborn thrummed his fingers, the tap of his dress shoes etching into Tsuna’s ears. “What did I tell you not to do?”

The hamster wheel in his brain ran like a centrifuge.

“Not be a hero?”

“And pray tell, what did you do?”

“I wasn’t a hero, though!” Tsuna complained. “It was a completely emotional and irrational response.”

“And that’s better how exactly?”

“I didn’t disobey direct orders.”

“Che scemo.” Reborn chuckled, stowing his pistol.

He got off the chair he kicked Shoichi out of, his footsteps echoing further away.

“Oh, and when you come back—” Reborn paused. “—I’ll personally lead your reception, Don Vongola.”

Tsuna felt his stomach curl into itself, likely worse than Shoichi’s. “Can’t wait…”

“So what happened?” Spanner shifted the lollipop in his mouth. “I don’t know why you decided to fight that day but when we opened the portal, we just saw the back of some tanked-up, on-fire guy and your burner coming at us not a second later. How pissed did that guy make you?”

Tsuna groaned.

“Damn.”

“You really messed up the machine,” Shoichi added. “Worse than last time, actually.”

Shoichi scratched his head, scrolling through the damage reports and reconstruction files. Spanner glanced at one of the photos taken and whistled, muttering a “nice shot” under his breath, which Shoichi quickly muffled with his hand.

“Working with the Bovinos will help. And we’ve recruited some others but…”

Tsuna sighed. “How long?”

Shoichi adjusted his glasses. “A few months-maybe-half-a-year?”

“What.” He was anticipating a few weeks, a month at most. He wasn’t even trying to kill Endeavor, so his burners weren’t at their maximum output!

“Not more than a year, of course.”

“Yeah, a conservative year if everything goes wrong,” Spanner piped in. “More likely on the lower end of that threshold.”

“And that’s better… how?”

“Hey, you’re not the one dealing with your right-hand breathing down your neck while you troubleshoot coding errors.”

“Stacks doesn’t usually have answers to space-time travel, you know,” Spanner added. “We’re praying to the machine spirit to be nice.”

Tsuna sighed, combing his hair. He hated interdimensional portals so much. His predecessors’ accumulated karma must’ve been passed down to him during his inheritance.

He heard a door open, closely followed by Shoichi’s yelp.

“Hi! We’re the ‘some others’ that got drafted into helping!”

“How long have you been here?” Shoichi asked incredulously. “You know you could’ve just come in.”

Byakuran shrugged. “It’s not like I could be sent somewhere like Tsukun with your machine broken.”

“I hate it here,” Enma muttered, pushing Byakuran off of him.

“Enma?” Tsuna said, slightly astonished. “I thought you were taking a sabbatical on your island?”

“Tell that to him,” Enma muttered darkly, gravity shifting for a second.

Byakuran hummed, white wings flapping innocently. “You’re just mad that I’m winning the bet,” he sang.

Tsuna blinked then held the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tell me…”

“For the record, I didn’t place any bets,” Enma replied. “But yeah. The Vongola, Milliefiore, Cavallone, some of the Acrobalenos, and a few other famiglias and unaffiliated individuals are running a betting pool on your… timely arrival.”

He sighed. “Dino, too?”

Fuuta was likely banned from betting or helping the others with his rankings. Good. That sweet boy didn’t need to indulge in this messed up clown festival.

Thankfully, the Vongola’s Science Division would likely abstain from betting since their pride was in their work and innovations (and Reborn’s glock). Lord knows if they weren’t so driven, he would be stuck at the whims of madmen.

“It was limited to a few inner circles, but Mammon caught wind of it and now it's more or less an open secret. Speaking of, they betted that you'd be back after eight months.”

Byakuran swiped one of Shoichi's snacks. “We turned it into parlay bets split into a bimonthly range — we have a website set up and everything for convenience!”

“You spent time doing that?”

“I tried to keep him grounded but failed,” Enma apologised.

Tsuna let out a sympathetic noise, appreciating the one mostly sane person in the room. Byakuran chuckled, swinging his arms around a groaning Shoichi and distracted Spanner.

“Your Storm is especially angry since he has to protect all these nerds from interference. Oh! By the way, I bet that you’d be gone longer than when you and your Guardians went to Vongola Primo’s time. You’re welcome!”

“I’m thankful... why?”

“I gave you more time to rest,” he pouted.

He groaned, Reborn’s menacing laughter sending a shiver down his spine. “You just placed me on death row.”

“Oopsie!” he laughed, shrugging.

That little shit definitely knew.

“Enma.”

“Yeah?”

“Take all my candy— you know the ones. If you can’t finish it, burn it.”

Byakuran gasped. “You cur! Sore loser! You had more and didn’t tell me!? Boo!”

Sometimes, he wondered how elementary school tactics worked better than mortal threats to this man.

Catching up with his fellow dons, it was about an hour later they ended the call.

While he didn’t like being away from his family, a part of him was happy to spend a little more time with the Todorokis. They were strong kids; they would do well even without his guidance. Nevertheless, he knew from experience that recovery and reconciliation were the hardest parts of moving on with your life.

So Tsuna remained — a don masquerading as a hero. He fought villains, avoided the media like the plague, met new heroes, and reacquainted old ones.

As for the Todoroki children, he was merely a blip in the span of their lives but no less vital. He could not fix what was broken, nor could he piece them back together seamlessly. But what he did was lay down paths they could take; it would be their choice to follow or create new roads for themselves.

When the time came, those many months later, when “Cielo” had to “return,” they had a feast to remember. Something small yet intimate, where despite their scattered blood, the ones who remained bonded deeper than ever.

(Tsuna would later be received kindly by friends, horrifyingly by his mentor, and menacingly by a certain scorned Mist Acrobaleno).

As Tsuna left after their goodbyes, a sense of melancholy washed over him — something he felt in nearly every world and universe he had visited. But without a second glance, he entered the portal, knowing that deep in his heart, the humours of the universe would allow them to meet again.

Chapter Text

A few weeks after Shoto’s release, the air in the house changed in some ways yet stayed the same in others. The Todoroki children still grappled with their new dynamics, such as visiting their mother in residential care and a father who tittered between giving them space and getting involved in their lives. Natsuo was the most visibly uncomfortable. While Shoto wasn't too far behind in his disdain for his father, he was an incredibly kind boy who seemed to want, well, not a father exactly but an accordance of some sort. If not for himself, then for his older sister. But there was a sense of stability and room to think now that the house had become closer to a home.

Speaking of home, he had met Rei once in residential care. While they usually wouldn't allow unrelated visitors, Rei specifically asked for him long after she was cleared for visitors and talked to her children. To his unease, she apologized and thanked him. He didn't feel like he deserved her grateful tears, but he accepted her sentiments — if only to respect her feelings and voice. No doubt it took a tremendous amount of courage for her to say what she wanted. While she did not ask him to stay with her children outright, she said their house was open to him at any time. She could see a bit of Fuyumi in her — with her guilt and silent self-degradation, not daring to ask for more. He could only reply what was within his power, both trained to not make promises easily and knowing that his time here was finite. She seemed to value his honest response, and with that, he left.

On one particular afternoon, when Tsuna had taken the time to babysit Shoto while their caretaker was out sick, he shared a bit more about himself with the youngest Todoroki.

They sat on the engawa facing the garden, the sun high in the air yet a cool breeze taking the heat away. Natsu curled up into a ball against Shoto, tail flickering as Shoto ran his hand down his back.

“Guardians?” Shoto asked.

Tsuna nodded fondly. “My comrades, friends, family. They protect me, and in turn, I protect them. I’m still here because of my friends. You once asked me how my Quirks work, right? Well, I draw strength from my loved ones— the desire to protect them and those like them. Even if we get into arguments and disagreements, I’m a very lucky man to have them by my side.”

Indeed, if anyone asked how Tsuna saw himself, he would always reply with “fortunate.” He may spurn lady luck occasionally but (mostly) in jest. In a reality with infinite possibilities, he was fortunate enough to have met and walked with his friends and family.

“That sounds really nice… I want to protect my family, too.” He shuffled his feet, fiddling with the ends of the sailor ribbon tied around his collar.

“You can.”

He brought his hand up to the left side of his face, fingers pressing into his cheek, skin leathery and rough. “But I’m—”

Tsuna tutted. “What did I say about bring-downs?”

He straightened his back. “No bring-downs.”

“Correct.”

Tsuna looked around before getting an idea.

“You know,” Tsuna said as he brought his hands up, “you remind me of one of my closest friends and Guardians.”

Shoto stared at his hands with a curious tilt of his head before looking up at him. “Really? How?”

He didn’t answer immediately, instead, Shoto’s eyes were drawn to the soft glow emanating from the man’s hands. Those soft orange Flames he liked were dancing on his outstretched palms, the soft glowing embers waving at him. Shoto watched in wonder as the Flames on his right crystallised into luminous blue ice— ones that glistened and reflected his face so clearly. The Flames on his left twirled and grew larger, but the glow didn’t hurt his eyes. The Flames were clear of imperfections, each ember flickering with a promise of devotion.

“Your Quirk is like the Rain,” Tsuna finally answered, “to square away conflict and wash away the pain.”

Shoto stared wordlessly before quirking his head with furrowed brows.

“Should I melt my ice for training?” His fire often evaporated the ice well before even a puddle could form.

Tsuna chuckled. “Sorry, that might’ve been a little complicated. It’s a saying where I’m from.”

He twirled his wrists for finesse, dismissing his Flames— Shoto pouted. Tsuna poked his puffy cheeks.

“What I mean is that your Quirk can protect people. You can fight off villains that seek to harm others and it can also save those who cry for help.”

“I can?”

He nodded. “You don’t need to follow in your father’s footsteps. Become the hero you want to be, Shoto. Remember what your mother said?”

Shoto played with the ribbon again. “I can be a hero but not like dad.”

“Exactly! And you have your family supporting you in that dream. Besides, you already have a fan!” He winked.

He blinked owlishly. “Who?”

Tsuna chuckled. “Me, silly.” He ruffled Shoto’s hair gently. “You’re so kind and strong, Shoto. Sometimes the world won’t be pleasant to that kindness, but I know you’ll get through it and find good people.”

"Like friends?"

"Like friends. Like loyal friends."

Years later, long after Tsuna had left, that loyalty was tested again and again through the boy's choice of companions. First, it was through Yaoyorozu Momo, a generous girl he met through following his father to a hero gala. He thought of her as another naive and rich girl at first, but eventually came to learn that she was incredibly driven and full of wit. When either of them doubted themselves, they would support the other to not think foolish thoughts. After entering UA, it was Iida Tenya who tried to make acquaintance with him after becoming class president. After dealing with Stain, they shared a heart-to-heart on the topic of disdain for someone despite being heroes. The two learned more about the nuances of this line of work. Then, Bakugo Katsuki, a few months in despite the protests and denials from the other side. All his classmates became his precious friends.

But there was one that made his family fret over his sudden recklessness. He met Midoriya Izuku. On the surface, Midoriya was unassuming. But then there was his Quirk. Then his drive. Then his intelligence. Then his loyalty. Midoriya was a bullet train hyper-focused on becoming a hero. While many others shared that goal, something was incredibly mesmerizing about his conviction. He wanted to return that same devotion in kind. When Midoriya stumbled into (or sought out) trouble, he was often the first to defend his friend. However, to the dismay of his family, that loyalty came back to bite him when his first instinct was to threaten the district police chief with physical violence, his Quirk already climbing his arms. Thankfully, his friends defended him in equal measure (often apologising for his eccentricities).

Midoriya was also the only other person who had heard of "Cielo" (thus cementing him as his best friend). Midoriya couldn't exactly say why he researched him, considering his middle school self had scant few information about underground heroes. Perhaps he was drawn to how odd his seemingly elemental emitter Quirks seemed to be.

Besides that, Midoriya was also a great sparring partner, pointing out observations he would've easily missed. In turn, Midoriya would accidentally pass on his hero obsession tendencies to Shoto whenever the topic of Cielo popped up (including when he hounded his homeroom teacher with questions when they found out he worked with him once).

Shoto's life was far from perfect. He still held doubts about becoming a good hero. But he was grateful that out of all the people in the world, he had met the right people. He was able to reconcile with his family, make friends, and meet his mentor who had helped him in more ways than the man could've known.