Chapter Text
The cafe was small, embedded into the corner of an aging building of brick stones and wooden planks. The decaying facade of the building was testament to how long the establishment had been there, the wooden signs hanging overhead sun-blasted and scruffed from time braving the weather. Vines crawled up the cafe walls, tracing the wooden-blocked windows and wrought-iron detailing of the building.
The outside sitting area, consisting of several tables with four metal chairs to each, were scattered along the cracked, washed-out stone of the streets. Potted plants weighed the tables down, adding a sense of oasis to the little notch in the back corner of the shadowed shopping strip.
The cafe itself was never on the busy side, the location more secluded and the shiftier patrons chasing away curious tourists or the smarter locals. Rumors rushed through the closed streets, faint whispers behind hands of how the Procione Famiglia owned the cafe. Of how it was a front for the Family, where they laundered their business clean with the simple facade of roasted coffee beans and fresh cakes.
The rumors detered the appeal of the small little establishment, making people wary that walking in would be the signing to their death certificate. Due to the rumors and the knowledge of who owned the cafe, most business came in the form of the Procione and Sciacallo members.
“Emilio, sir.” A man in a fine pressed beige suit stood in the sunlight, body casting shadows on the lone man at the outside tables. “You have a phone call.” The man at the table, pudgy fingers wrapped around his small espresso cup, looked to the presented cellphone.
“Thank you, Fabrizio,” Emilio spoke as he reached a hand for the device. Fabrizio, looking unsuited for his light-colored clothes with his jagged face-scars and his mohawk, placed the black flip phone in the man’s hand and took a polite step back.
“Ciao,” Emilio answered as he took a sip of his three-shot espresso, “you have news?”
“Ciao, Emi,” a male’s grainy voice answered from the receiver. “I do. Reports have come in that Reborn is in Japan along with the CEDEF heir.” Emilio leaned forward in his chair, plump lips tugging into a smirk.
“Japan?” It came out in a purr. The men in the area, backs to Emilio as he enjoyed his morning newspaper, stiffened at the sound. “Where in Japan, Santino? Tokyo? Kyoto?” Why was the World’s Greatest Hitman going to the land of the Rising Sun?
“No,” Santino hummed out, “some place called Namimori.” The foreign name was stilted on the man’s lips.
“Namimori?” Emilio’s eyes dragged over his men. One of them had stiffened at the mention of the town. Mentally humming, he tapped a finger on his cup. “Never heard of it. I wonder why the man’s going to such an unknown city.”
“Apparently Namimori is infamous amongst certain Families,” Santino explained as groaning sounded in the background.
“How so?” Emilio’s eyes kept trained on the guard who’d stiffened, trying to look disinterested in the phone call as he took another sip of his drink. It was getting cold, leaving a rotten taste in his mouth.
“The first of the Vongola settled there,” Santino said in a hush, “and that pesky Hibari Clan hails from there.” At the mention of the Clan that ruined their youngest brother’s Family, Emilio’s hand tightened around the phone. “And rumors has it the next heir to Vongola is living there.”
Emilio’s eyebrows shot up. “Timoteo chose a new heir?” That guard’s hands were curled into fists as he spoke. “How? I thought all of his children were either dead or incipacitated.”
“From what my sources told me, apparently this new heir has Vongola Primo’s blood in him. A descendent. He’s nothing but a muddled mutt but desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say.” Santino gave a laugh. “So, what do you think?”
“Hm.” Emilio tugged on his beard, moving to stand. His men moved in sync, turning to face him as they moved to surround him. “Sounds fun. Let’s see what your intel bring back to us before we make any rash decisions.”
“Ah.” Santino hummed. “How’s your mouse?”
“Pretty stupid.” Emilio downed the last of his drink and slapped a bill on the table, using the cup as a weight least the wind carry away the tip. “Contact me when Nero wakes up. Ciao.” He hung up before Santino could respond and Emilio gave the phone back to Fabrizio.
He met eyes with Fabrizio and slowly nodded. The man bowed his head and without pause drew his gun and shot Marco, the guard Emilio had been eyeing, in the back of the head point-blank. His other men didn't even flinch as Marco went down hard, the air ringing from the echoing gunshot.
“Anyone else want to be little rats?” Emilio asked coldly. His men stared at him blankly. “No? Good.” He pushed his chair in, clapped his hands, and they were off.
“You’ve already used up your allowance,” Tsuyoshi said harshly.
“But-”
“No.” Tsuyoshi crossed his arms.
“Dad-”
“No.” His steel conviction, on a good day, was amusing. Today it was just annoying Takeshi faster than usual. “You asked for your allowance three weeks in advance. What the hell did you do with it all already?”
Tsuna looked between the two, worrying on his bottom lip while Hayato just watched on with a gleeful glimmer in his eyes.
“I-” Takeshi’s face blanked “-we can’t talk about it. We signed NDAs.”
Silence.
“What?” Tsuyoshi’s eyes bounced over to Hayato, who mouthed ‘vacation’ while gesturing to Tsuna behind his back. Oh. That trip to Kyoto that went crazy, then. Tsuyoshi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. How were these his children? “What do you need the money for?”
“Ice cream,” Takeshi grumbled, eyes narrowed as if he could intimidate his father into giving him some cash. How was this his son? Who did this punk think he was? “Tsuna wants to try this new ice cream out, right Tsuna?”
Tsuyoshi stiffened before steeling himself. He turned slowly, dread bubbling up in his chest as doe-brown eyes stared him head on. Oh, god dammit, he even had the jutted out bottom lip going on. Tsuna stood there, hands clasped in front of him like a saint praying, eyes wide and glistening and looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.
Must. Resist. You can do this, Tsuyoshi. You were a cold-hearted assassin for how many years. You can’t be taken out by a fourteen year old’s puppy-dog eyes.
“It’s a limited edition matcha soft serve,” Tsuna whimpered. Fuck, were those tears ? Tsuyoshi could physically feel the struggle in his heart. Must. Resist! “Mama had to cut back on my allowance for this month for reasons and Hayato’s check went to bills this week.”
Tsuyoshi gritted his teeth. Nana, he knew, received monthly checks from her wayward husband (if he could even be called that). He knew, after the bills and groceries and utilities, that they had only a little left over. He understood this and knew that Tsuna knew the financial struggles as well. The Sawadas weren’t well-off as much as they were living and it made him sad at the idea that a child had to sacrifice certain treats to make sure his mother had enough to splurge and treat herself when she could. Because this child would put his mother’s comfort above his own happiness.
And Hayato, who fibbed his age and worked part-time at the local conbini ...well, Tsuyoshi had already fought that battle and lost when it came to trying to convince the teen to not work. He wanted to support his mother so she wouldn’t have to struggle in the uncomfortable surroundings, still feeling a bit out of place. Tsuyoshi knew that foreigners weren’t accepted as readily as everyone liked to think.
How were these his children? They were so stupid but so responsible at the same time. Hayato and Takeshi he could understand - they were mentally in their 40s. Tsuna was just a beautiful soul of a child who sacrificed too much to make his mother happy.
He exhaled loudly and stared at the three hard. “I will give you enough money for ice cream. But -” he was hasty as Takeshi smirked like he won “-you three will have to handle the Friday dinner rush, got it?”
“Yes sir!” The three chirped, Hayato and Takeshi sharing looks over Tsuna’s head. No doubt, Tsuyoshi mused as he went to get the money, they’d make Tsuna sit at the table while they did all the work. Bless Tsuna’s precious heart but he was a human disaster and would cause more harm than help if he tried to serve or do anything in the restaurant.
“Here. This should be enough for four ice creams,” Tsuyoshi spoke as he returned. He handed the money to Hayato, the most trustworthy and responsible of the three, and caught Tsuna’s beaming smile.
“Thank you, Uncle!” Tsuna chirped. Tsuyoshi fought to hug the teen. Or future son-in-law. Maybe. He looked between the two other teens. Maybe. “We’ll hurry back with yours.”
Tsuna flushed as the man ruffled his hair, cheeks warming and smile growing softer at the parental gesture. No matter how often the father treated him like a son, he couldn’t get used to it.
“Be safe,” he beckoned and the three left with waves. He sighed to himself, unable to hold back the curse towards the two men who tried to call themselves fathers to Hayato and Tsuna. They didn't seem to have positive father-figures in their lives and Tsuyoshi would be damned if he didn't try to fill in the shoes.
Outside, Hayato and Takeshi both immediately took one of Tsuna’s hands, grips secure but gentle as they walked down the street.
“So I heard that the toppings are unlimited,” Takeshi began as he swung their linked hands childishly. Sue him, he was allowed to pretend to be fourteen. “Sasagawa-san said to try the pocky sticks and the sprinkles.”
“Sprinkles are gross,” Tsuna argued as he nearly tripped over nothing. The two hands tightened and they balanced him out without much effort. “Think they’ll have strawberry chunks?” A gasp. “Or coffee beans?”
“Definitely,” Hayato piped up as he mentally calculated his loose cash. He could probably stretch out his lunch money for the week if he had to spend a bit more for Tsuna. Meeting Takeshi’s knowing frown, he jolted and jerked his head to stare ahead. Damn, caught in the act. His cheeks flushed.
“I have a few bucks still if the toppings cost extra,” Takeshi echoed Hayato’s thoughts, smile sharp as the explosive-professional glared at him. “So pick whatever you want, Tsuna.”
“Thanks guys,” Tsuna said just as he almost dropped into a pothole in the street. Takeshi and Hayato snagged him up quick, hearts skipping a beat at the dodged danger.
And this was why Tsuna wasn’t allowed places by himself.
“Get me coffee beans.” Tsuna pressed send on the message, leaning up against the tree for shade against the summer sun. The cafe, advertising this limited edition soft serve matcha ice cream, had a line out the door. Hayato and Takeshi volunteered to go in line and have Tsuna wait for them under the tree out front of the building. He hummed to himself, catching glimpses of Takeshi and Hayato inside the building already. At least the line was moving fast.
“Excuse me.” Tsuna turned to his left, the sun further blocked by the daunting figure that towered over him. A man stood in his personal space, his sharp features hidden under the brim of his fedora. His suit, black and looking more expensive than all of Tsuna’s belongings put together, fitted over his muscular frame elegantly.
He couldn’t move. There was something off about this man, a wrongness that paralyzed Tsuna and stole his breath all at once. The air around him was like storm clouds that sucked the warmth from the air and left a chill in his bones. Tsuna’s breath escaped him in a soft exhale, his eyes wide as the man pressed his arm above the teen’s head, effectively trapping him against the tree trunk.
“Hi,” the man spoke, voice free of accent and words fluent without that notable forced enunciation foreigners carried when they tried to sound “proper” . “Thank goodness you’re here kid. I’m lost.” For being lost, the man looked as cool as a cucumber, body language relaxed and expression more smug looking than concerned or anxious.
Tsuna couldn’t look away from the stranger’s dark eyes, something in his chest seizing tight. An uncomfortable warmth festered beneath his eyes, scratching and clawing through his brain and trickling down his throat in sultry droplets. Like triggering a childhood sense of nostalgia by a scent long-lost, he felt unable to properly place why or where he’d felt this before. His mind was a jumbled mess of silence and noise, clashing and making him unable to process anything besides the stranger leaning casually over him like a dominating force of nature.
“Could you help me out?” His lips tugged into a smirk despite the forced desperation lacing his words. “I’m trying to find this address. I was with my companions who knew the way but I got separated from them.” His eyes glinted as he tilted his head ever so slightly, gaze sliding to the inside of the creamery. His free hand slide into his pocket and procured a folded piece of paper. He held it out to Tsuna. “What do you say? Help a friend out?”
Friend. For some reason, that word sent shivers down Tsuna’s spine and he hunched back into the bark of the tree, heart hammering in his chest. The world around him was fading, spotting, and even the man’s unnatural allure was beginning to dwindle the longer he stayed there.
Oh, Tsuna thought distantly, barely catching the flicker of faint embers in the back of his mind’s eye, oh. Oh.
“S-sure,” Tsuna forced out, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat as trembling hands reached for the paper. The man’s body language shifted, shoulders straightening as he picked up on Tsuna’s building anxiety. Tsuna ducked his head, escaping that scorching gaze, and opened the paper. He looked at the address and his insides went cold.
“This-” he could barely hear his own voice over the roaring of blood in his ears “-this is my address.” A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and he went stone-stiff. The man’s free hand tightened around him, further keeping him trapped as a vicious smirk filled his expression.
“Don’t you know, Dame-Tsuna,” the man spoke in a tone that made his knees weak and something - something deep deep deep deep down within Tsuna twinged. “You shouldn’t be so willing to help strangers. You never know what they’ll do to you."
Breathe. Breathe. His world was fading fast as his stomach churned and his toes and fingers numbed. He chanced a glance around the man to see Hayato and Takeshi at the checkout register. By luck, Hayato turned to check on him and they met eyes. Gem-like green went wide before he was dropping the ice cream cones in his hold, shoving past customers to get to the door. Takeshi was behind him, ice cream crushed in his hands as he followed on the teen’s heels.
His chest seized again like a hand was reaching down his throat to squeeze his heart tight, and he choked out a gasp as he tried to shove the man away from him. His hands pressed into the warm chest and that festering little ember in the back of his mind hummed.
His knees buckled.
Tsuna came to like a snap from an elastic band - sharp and fast. One moment he was against the tree, the next he was upside down, being carried over the stranger’s shoulder like a sack of flour.
Hayato and Takeshi entered his field of vision as he blinked slowly into awareness, mind sluggish in piecing together everything.
“You alright, Tsuna-sama?” Hayato asked worriedly, hands wringing together in front of him as Takeshi’s cold eyes just bore into the stranger’s head. Tsuna’s eyebrows furrowed before he nodded slowly, wiggling to get the man’s attention. Obviously something was going on - Takeshi and Hayato wouldn’t have let some random man touch him if they didn't trust him.
The man stopped walking and lowered Tsuna to the ground. Blood rushed to his head as gravity tried to claim him and he stumbled backwards into Takeshi’s chest. His friend wrapped a comforting arm around him, steadying him as the man watched them.
“You good, Tsuna?” Takeshi asked. Tsuna blinked the stars from his vision, cautious as he glanced at the stranger. “This is Reborn. We didn't recognize him at first but he’s a friend. He’s safe.”
It wasn’t a lie. Tsuna could tell when someone lied to him, like how he knew his mother lied to him about his father, about their finances, about her happiness, about himself. Takeshi wasn’t lying to him - not about this. But when had him and Hayato found the time to make friends with a stranger who made Tsuna’s skin crawl and those soft embers burn just a tiny bit brighter with each passing second?
“Reborn,” Tsuna tested the name out. It felt like home on his tongue.
He hated it.
“You can’t trust every single person who comes to you for help,” Reborn chided softly as his brim cast long shadows across his face. “You never know who’s trying to fool you.” He scoffed and flicked his hat up, eyes narrowed in judgement. “You also need to grow a backbone. Really, fainting because of a bit of bloodlust? Pathetic.”
Tsuna just kept his gaze strong as he tried not to feel hurt that his friends weren’t coming to his defense. He didn't know this man. Who was he to put him down over a very real and very understanding fear of being snatched up? Tunsa had been under the impression he was going to be kidnapped or-
Blood blossomed from the bullet wound in his stomach and his world blackened just as Takeshi charged at the attacker-
-worse.
He lowered his gaze.
“I understand,” he whispered in a grumble. He bowed his head, submissive to the authority figure in front of him. Doing so, he missed how Reborn’s eyes crinkled up in disgust at such a weak gesture. He missed how Takeshi and Hayato glared protectively at the man, silently daring him to try anything.
“Good,” Reborn forced out instead, hands shoving into his dress pant-pocket. “Let’s go. Your dad’s waiting.” He noted how Tsuna’s lackeys stiffened at the mention of Iemitsu. Silence met his statement and curiosity controlled Reborn to look at Tsuna. What? No outburst of ‘but my dad’s dead!’ or ‘I don’t have a father’?
“You mean… that man’s here?” Tsuna’s eyes were unreadable as he studied Reborn, eyes moving over the man’s expression, trying to pick apart any clues to if he was lying or not. “Is my mom okay?”
Reborn’s eyebrow raised up.
“What do you mean by that?” Judging by how Takeshi and Hayato were acting, silent and serious, they knew just exactly what Tsuna meant. Reborn hated that he felt like he was missing something.
“My mom’s been telling me since I was four that my father died. Became a star or something.” Tsuna’s eyes slid to the side, tone going flat as his eyes lost a little bit of their luster. “But I know she was lying.” He shrugged. “So, is Mama okay?”
“Why do you think I’d know?” Reborn asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice. Tsuna pursed his lips before he shrugged again.
“Well, let’s go then.” Tsuna squirmed until he was released from Takeshi’s hold, skipping forward. He turned back, holding his hands out. Reborn watched as the two latched on, Hayato on his right side while Takeshi took his left.
How fitting.
Ettore didn't know what to make of Sawada Nana. She was everything Oregano was not. Her smiles were open and bubbly, showing her true emotions without fear of being taken advantage of or ridiculed. She spoke her mind and laughed without worry. She opened her arms to Iemitsu the moment she’d open the door, eyes bright and smile wide.
But she was a mother and just like any mother Ettore ever met, she was dangerous. Mothers were dangerous in a carnal, primal instinctual way. They would do everything and anything to protect their young and Ettore saw such a manner in how Nana’s smiles turned a little too sharp and her eyes turned a little too cold for how the woman acted just mere seconds before.
She was still so kind though, her eyes softening at Lambo and Ettore as they were introduced. Her touch was gentle as she helped them with their bags, eyes hardening just the tiniest bit when Iemitsu asked if there was any beer in the house.
“Sorry to intrude,” Ettore spoke bashfully as he slipped his shoes off. Lambo did the same, movements almost mechanical as he latched onto Nana’s leg. Nana bent down to scoop the child up, smile as soft as Oregano’s was when Ettore did something silly, and she gestured for Ettore to follow her in.
“Don’t be silly, sweetie,” Nana spoke as she led him to the kitchen. Iemitsu was making himself at home on the couch. “You’re family so my house is your house. Feel free to make yourself at home.” She rested Lambo down at the table, tapping his nose when he gave a tiny whine. He burst into giggles, smitten and starry-eyed with the mother.
Ettore could see how his father could have fallen in love with her, despite her status as a civilian. He wondered, absently, if she wasn’t a Sky herself. Her natural air was very calm and soothing.
“Oh.” Ettore blinked. “You- you know who I am?”
“Of course.” Nana went to the fridge, pulling out a jug of iced tea. She made herself busy, bustling through the cabinets to grab glasses. “Iemitsu made sure to explain to me before we got together that he had a son.” She smiled over her shoulder. “You’re a very handsome young man. Your mother must be gorgeous.” She winked.
Ettore gave a startled little laugh. He wasn’t expecting her to make a slight against her own husband.
Oh, he liked this woman.
“Tsu-kun will be home soon,” Nana explained as she handed him a cup of tea. She handed a plastic cup to Lambo, giggling when he blew a kiss to her in thanks. “I think you two will get along wonderfully! Tsu-kun always wanted a sibling.”
Ettore’s smile soured as he occupied himself with sipping the tea. It was delicious and tasted faintly of watermelon.
“I hope so,” Ettore whispered.
“Mamma!” Lambo called, effectively stealing Nana’s attention. “I wanna sleep with Big Bro Tsu tonight!”
“Oh, well of course!” Nana gasped dramatically, appeasing to the child’s whims. “Tsu-kun would love that!” Lambo beamed happily and began to talk a mile a minute, gasping for breath between words and letters as Nana moved to sit with him. The teen took a moment to observe the two, slightly shocked by the ease at which the woman whole-heartedly opened her arms for the child. Lambo, himself, was acting like he'd always known the woman. She was just easy to go with the flow, it seems. He mentally stored away that observation for the future. Sawada Nana was not one to overlook.
Ettore left the kitchen, looking over towards the entryway as it opened. Reborn walked through the front door, Hayato and the Japanese teen from the video following behind.
Tsuna came last, short and doe-eyed and - whoa . It was like looking at a portrait of Giotto, the Vongola Primo. If their colors weren’t so different, Ettore would have thought the man had risen from the dead.
Tsuna blinked at the unknown teen standing in his living room, taking in his features. He had a straight, slightly upturned nose and strong jaw-line - no doubt Iemitsu’s genes. He had amber eyes and short, strawberry blonde hair. His body was lithe and tall, skin slightly tan and muscles developed under his casual T-shirt and cargo shorts.
Well, that explained why Tsuna was so short. This kid must have sucked up all the tall genetics Iemitsu had to offer to his offspring. Wow, how fucking rude.
Silence hung in the air as the two continued to assess each other. Nana peeked out from the kitchen, eyes hopeful while Iemitsu flung an arm over the back of the couch and smirked at Tsuna.
“Hey my Tuna Fish!” Iemitsu cooed as he jumped up, making a move to the teen. “Did you miss Papa?” He opened his arms wide to hug Tsuna.
Tsuna ducked behind his two friends and they stood tall, not budging for the man. Ettore’s eyes sharpened at the Japanese one, Yamamoto, wasn’t it, who smiled darkly at Iemitsu.
“Tuna Fish?” Iemitsu’s voice was a whine, like a child who was scolded in front of others. Embarrassed and tight. He was staring at the two teens warily.
“How can I miss someone who’s off playing house with some other family?” Tsuna asked, voice controlled as he leaned around Takeshi. Iemitsu’s smile fell off his face.
“Tsunayoshi-” Iemitsu wheezed as Ettore elbowed him out of the way. The teen bowed low, startling Tsuna.
“Hello!” Ettore lifted up to smile shyly. “I’m Ettore. I’m your half brother. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a very long time.”
He watched those brown eyes flicker with some unreadable emotion and his body shuddered at the amber that flashed across the warm hue.
“Hi,” Tsuna spoke cautiously as his eyes flickered between him and Iemitsu. “I’m Tsuna. I didn't know I had an older brother.” His eyes cut to Iemitsu in accusation. The man had the sense to look ashamed.
A crash from the kitchen had them all turning to the entryway of the kitchen.
Lambo, clad in his tiny cow-printed onesie, stood there with wide, watery eyes. He clung to Nana’s leg tight enough for his little nails to leave crescents in her skin. She looked down at him in worry. The child tittered backwards before he blinked rapidly. As if he’d seen a ghost and stricken on whether he should be afraid or not, his face scrunched up.
Finally-
“Bw-Bwuahahahaha !” The tiny child suddenly exploded out, voice shrill and loud. “The- The Great Lambo has-has landed eyes on a ser-servant!” Tears trickled down his cheeks as he choked the words out. “The-The Great Lambo will have to take-take this servant under his-his-his wing!” His little knees knocked together as he used Nana more as a source of balance than comfort.
“Who?” Tsuna crouched down, pointing to himself as Lambo wheezed. “Me?”
“Y-yeah!” Snot dribbled down the child’s chin and he tried to clean his face, smearing his tears and mucus across his cheeks instead. “You- you will make a great lackey! If - If you’re with me then - then - then I- I can protect you! I can-” the words petered off as he his voice cracked into nothing and the tears won over.
He burst out into loud gasping wails. Nana gasped and reached down to sooth him. Lambo darted forward, barrelling into Tsuna’s chest. Tsuna’s arms wrapped around the wailing child tightly, feeling those tiny hands grip at his shirt.
“Shh, shh, Lambo,” Tsuna whispered as he rocked back onto his butt, drawing his knees up a bit to cage the child in. It was a subtle gesture, meant to keep everyone away more than to deter the child from leaving his arms. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Lambo snuggled into his shirt, muffling his tears in the fabric. Tsuna turned wide, alarmed eyes to the adults in the room, his discomfort broadcasting loudly.
“Rub circles along his back,” Nana whispered helpfully. Tsuna did as instructed and Ettore forced his gaze away to meet seafoam green.
“Hayato,” Ettore greeted as he rocked back on his sock-clad heels. “So, this is a nice little city. Very quiet.”
“Ettore-sama,” Hayato spoke tersely. His eyes looked suspiciously wet. “It is.”
“Yeah. I can see why you’d just up and abandon your duties as my bodyguard. It’s quaint.” Ettore’s eyes were dark as he smiled brittle pleasantries.
“Tsuna-sama is my first priority,” Hayato said without shame, eyes churning with a suppressed storm. Reborn, Iemitsu, and Ettore tensed as Takeshi let out a cold laugh.
“Haya,” Takeshi threw an arm around the silver haired teen, drawing him close as empty eyes surveyed the men, “you can’t be so open about that. People might take that as a weakness.”
“I feel like I should be insulted,” Tsuna grumbled under his breath. He adjusted Lambo in his hold, the child’s sobs nothing more than heavy breathing and sniffles. “So, why are you here?”
“I’ll make tea!” Nana announced suddenly and was back in the kitchen in the blink of an eye, escaping the palpable tension.
“Do we need a reason to visit you?” Iemitsu asked, feigning hurt. His eyes were trained on Takeshi, who met his stare head on and as coldly.
“After eleven years of nothing?” Tsuna’s voice made Iemitsu turn to him in shock. “Yeah, yeah you do. Mama might be more forgiving but I’m not.” He tightened his grip on Lambo. “So, Iemitsu , what do you want?”
The man had the audacity to look offended that Tsuna was addressing him so distantly.
“Congratulations, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn spoke from his place by the wall, leaning up against it with crossed arms, “you’ve been chosen to become the next boss of the Vongola Famiglia.”
The festering ember flared up for a split-second and Tsuna’s heart ached .
He stared at the hitman, arms loosening in shock to where Lambo had to scramble to stay against him.
“Wh-what?” His voice sounded too loud in his ears. “What are you talking about? Is this a joke?” His heart was deafening him. “What’s Vongola?” Hayato and Takeshi were on either side of him in an instant, hands warm against his back and presence familiar and safe.
“It’s a Mafia Family residing in Italy,” Ettore explained. “We’re from the Consulenza Esterna Della Famiglia - the External Advisors of the Family, of CEDEF. We’re basically a second Vongola, if you will. We keep balance in the Family and hold equal power to the Vongola Don.” He glanced at his father, who nodded in approval of his explanation.
“Vongola,” he continued, “is probably the largest Family in existence, having a large following and even larger branches and allies. It was created a long, long time ago in Italy by your many greats-Grandfather, Giotto. He founded Vongola and its powers have grown to be one of the top in the world.”
“Vongola,” Tsuna whispered, the single word choking him. “So-so what does this have to do with me?”
“Like I said,” Reborn huffed out, eyes narrowed, “you’re the heir to Vongola.”
Vongola . Tsuna hunched up as darkness flashed through his mind, followed by that ember, followed by a gentle hand in his hair and a painful apology. He screwed his eyes shut tight before he straightened, trying to appear strong under the expectant gazes facing him.
“What if I say no?” His voice didn't sound as strong as he wanted it to. “Why can’t he do it?” He looked pointedly at Ettore. He ignored the self-disgust churning in the pit of his stomach and tuned out the ugly little voice in the back of his head whispering, Selfish selfish selfish Tsuna.
“You can’t,” Iemitsu spoke seriously, tone stern. “And Ettore was born for the sole reason of becoming the head of the CEDEF. He cannot and will not take over as Vongola Head.” The man’s eyes were scorching. “You shouldn’t be so selfish, Tsunayoshi.”
Was Tsuna’s entire existence born for the sole reason of being an heir then? Tsuna held his tongue on asking that question.
Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be-
“I’m sorry, Tsunayoshi.”
-selfish.
“Why me?” The world was stifling. He felt too warm in his shirt and shorts. Everything was on the uncomfortable scale of hot . “I don’t - I never even heard of Vongola before now.”
“There’s no one else,” Reborn explained. Something in his tone was soft - misplaced. “You’re all that’s left. You don’t have a choice.”
“I don’t want to,” Tsuna said weakly. Something deep in his chest squeezed, pulled, and tore through him and he felt like crying. “I don’t want to.”
Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish.
Where was his mother with that tea? He needed her with him right now. He felt like he was being attacked on all sides. Hayato and Takeshi were silent, trying to respect him by letting him fight this battle on his own.
He felt so alone.
He screwed his eyes shut, arms almost a vice around Lambo. A flicker of orange, a heat that coiled through his chest, an explosion of colors that bled into his heart, ice-cold to the touch, darkness, whispered apologies-
Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish.
“I’m so sorry, Tsunayoshi.”
His breathing was nothing more than a wet wheeze as his body sagged forward. Hayato and Takeshi held him tight, keeping him upright as he stared blankly at the floor beneath him.
“I never had a chance,” he whispered, the words too soft for anyone to hear.
“Tsuna-sama,” Hayato spoke softly and his hands were acid on Tsuna’s arm, “whatever you decide, I will follow.” You want me to say yes.
“Yeah Tsuna.” Takeshi’s laugh was razor blades down his spine and through his chest. “We’re with you one-hundred percent.” You don’t care what I’ll suffer - you only care for what I’ll become.
Tsuna shied away from them, that rotten blackness in his stomach thickening as he saw twin looks of hurt on his friends' faces. He never shied from their touches, so used to their constant comfort that he could never think to purposely reject them. But here he was, pushed into a corner with no one to fight with him - for him.
“I’m so sorry, Tsunayoshi.”
Don’t be selfish.
“Is-” he swallowed the bile bubbling up “-is there really no other option?” It was getting hard to breath in the humidity in the room. Why wasn’t anyone else feeling this heat? It was unbearable. He needed air.
“No.” Reborn scoffed. “What part of ‘you’re the only one left’ don’t you understand?” Reborn’s eyes were unreadable as he surveyed the child trembling. He looked grey around the edges and was swaying. Hayato and Takeshi were stationed to catch him if he fainted. “You’re the last resort, kid.”
Don’t be selfish.
“I-” he couldn’t breathe “-I need to-to go.” He stumbled backwards, recoiling from his two friends as if burned. “I-I can’t-” It was punched out of him, nothing more than a guttural choke. His world was slipping, tumbling on its axis. He had to leave. He had to leave now.
Why can’t I be selfish?
Tsuna fled from the room after pausing to all but toss Lambo to Hayato. He fled like a coward, stumbling his way up the stairs with Iemitsu’s voice growling after his heels. He locked himself in his bedroom, leaning heavily against his bedroom door as the cool AC air of his room slammed into him. He slid down the wood, choking on his breath as he heard raised voices downstairs.
A knock on his bedroom door startled him. He jolted, scrambling out of the way as Hayato and Takeshi let themselves in. Their faces were sullen, taking in their friend’s pale complex and wet cheeks.
“Tsuna-sama,” Hayato whispered out and stepped further into the room. Without much preamble he scooped the shorter teen into his arms and held him close. “I know this is a lot to handle but it’s not the end of the world. You’ll be amazing as the next heir to Vongola.”
His fate was already decided for himself.
“Oh, Tsuna,” Takeshi just whispered as he joined in on the hug, burying his nose into Tsuna’s hair. His arms were steel bars trapping Tsuna into his role. These two had already decided what they thought was best. “Don’t be scared, Tsuna. We’re going to be with you every step of the way.”
Leave him at the starting line. Leave him at the starting point of his path. Leave him to wither away. Leave him.
“I don’t want to be a Mafia boss,” Tsuna whispered against Hayato’s chest. His hands dug in tight to the teen’s shirt. “I don’t.” Why couldn’t they understand that? He pushed every ounce of his desperation into his voice as he choked out, “ Please. I don’t want to be a Mafia boss.”
Why was he selfish for not wanting to do this? Wasn’t it selfish to force it onto him without any consideration of his thoughts or feelings?
Why was he in the wrong? Why did no one listen to him?
Was he that insignificant?
Don’t be selfish.
Silence met his plea and he felt the two pairs of arms around his retract. His heart lurched before dropping to his stomach as Hayato and Takeshi stepped away from him.
His eyes flickered between the two as they shifted to face him, twin expressions of determination on their faces.
“Is this how you truly feel?” Hayato asked simply. As if he hadn’t been hearing the internal and external struggle Tsuna was broadcasting for anyone and everyone to hear.
“Yes.” Tsuna ducked his head, afraid to face his two friends. He clenched his hands together, fingers purpling from the tight grip. A hand reached out, tanned and calloused, and tilted his chin back up to face the two.
“If that’s the case,” Takeshi’s voice was hollow but his eyes were bright with clarity, “then we’ll support you without question.”
Stunned silence.
“What?” Takeshi’s hand slid up to his cheek, thumb stroking soft lines under his eye. Hayato’s hands gently pried Tsuna’s fingers apart, rubbing soothing circles into his trembling hands. “What?”
“You don’t want to be the boss of Vongola?” Hayato asked softly, words brittle and tongue heavy. “Then we will make sure no one can force that upon you. Not unless you yourself want to take on the title.”
“What do you take us for, Tsuna?” Takeshi drew Tsuna close, the two taller teens trapping him between them. “We’d never do anything to make you suffer. Have more faith in us, okay?”
Tears scorched down his cheeks as he hiccuped. “Are you serious?” Was he allowed to be this selfish? Was he allowed to ask such things from these two kind people, who’d follow him without question and would be with him until the end? “Am-am I allowed to be selfish?”
“Of course.” Hayato inhaled a pained, raspy breath before he pressed his palm flat against Tsuna’s chest. “Tsuna-sama, your happiness comes first before anything else. To yourself, you should always be a top priority.” His hand moved to cup Tsuna’s neck, tender and comforting. “And if your happiness deverts from Vongola…”
“Then you won’t be with Vongola,” Takeshi laughed out like it was all a funny joke. Tsuna felt how his hand shook with faint tremors and how he kept blinking back tears. “Whatever keeps you happy and safe.”
Don’t be selfish. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be-
“Thank you,” Tsuna breathed out and he slumped forward against the two as the weight of everything crashed into him. His fingers dug into their shirts, anchoring himself between them, and he breathed in the faint scene of warm rain after a raging storm. “Thank you two so much.”
Takeshi squeezed Tsuna close, eyes meeting Hayato’s. The two let their shorter friend sob quietly as they held a wordless conversation.
Vongola took a lot from them. Sure, it gave them a lot but in the long run, this entire scenario was different. Too many variables were different, from how all three met to the players in this game of death and blood.
They didn't need Vongola. They weren’t obligated to some Family that took and took and barely gave back. Their priority was Tsuna. If he wasn’t Vongola Don, so many lives would be spared.
Hayato nodded grimly to Takeshi, their silent mutual agreement not needing to be voiced.
If Tsuna didn't want to be Don, then he wouldn’t be Don. They’d stand by him no matter what obstacles came his way and they’d fight for him and his decision.
They owed him that much.