Chapter Text
Tsuna stood before Xanxus, glaring down his distant cousin. Tonight would declare who was deserving of being the leader of Vongola, and while Tsuna still didn’t want the title, he knew that it would be worse if Xanxus got that kind of power.
Still, the appearance of Grampa Ubayashiki was unexpected.
“Am I late?” Grampa hummed, looking around curiously. He spotted Tsuna, and brightened up. “Ah! There you are! I have something for you.”
“Who is this?” Xanxus sneered at Grampa, who didn’t even notice the threatening aura.
“What are you doing here?” Tsuna knew the old man was in his late 90s and incredibly spry for it, but still. And then he noticed the package that towered over Grampa. “Wait, what do you have?”
“I have your great-great-grandfather’s ancestral sword.” Grampa finally looked over at Xanxus, before humming with a smile. “While this is no demon at all, your battle is important to you and to your family. It would be a dishonor not to wield it. Please, my child, do not go into battle without any means of defending yourself or those around you.”
“You – how did you get this sword? Shouldn’t it be in Kyoto? Shouldn’t you be in Kyoto?” Tsuna glanced at Yamamoto, who shrugged, as lost as Tsuna. “How did you even know I would be here?”
“You ask too many questions, my child. I knew because it was necessary.” Grampa took Tsuna’s hands and gently wrapped them around the sheath of the nichirin sword. “Your mother is still in close contact, and as soon as I heard that your father had returned, I had to come. For many years I have witnessed the Hinokami Kagura at the new year, now please indulge this old man, Tsunayoshi. While I have never had cause to bear direct witness of Hinokami Kagura in battle, and have only once seen this sword in use against a great evil to this world, I would dearly love to have this small reminder, however little, of the time of my youth, and of my father’s time.”
Tsuna looked at the sword, then at Grampa, and nodded. He could indulge, just this once.
“If you could go join up with my friends, over there?” Tsuna pointed to them, while keeping one eye on Xanxus. “You shouldn’t stand too close.”
“I know.” Grampa stopped, looking up at the sky. “It makes sense, I suppose, that now is when the battle would happen. It’s been so many decades since that time…”
“Who are you?” Gokudera looked from Grampa to Reborn, who merely hummed, as confused at Tsuna’s friends.
Affixing the sword to his side, Tsuna placed a hand on the hilt, drawing the sword. It glittered and gleamed a beautiful red, the blade retaining its sharpness. Over 90 years since the death of Muzan, and over a thousand since it was first forged, and still the blade was as sharp as that first day.
Drawing the sword, Tsuna got into the stance, letting his breathing sharpen and burn.
Nearby, Squalo let out an aggrieved shout, but Tsuna’s focus wasn’t on that, but on his opponent. He was already calculating the forms, the flow, to defeat Xanxus. Nothing meant to kill, but Tsuna doubted that he could dull his strikes. And if he did end up killing Xanxus…
Hinokami Kagura was hardly the worst of the Breaths to die from.