Disclaimer: If you recognize it as created and owned by Amano Akira, then it isn't mine. I am only an amateur writer with delusions of grandeur and a mind that likes going on sidelines. A lot, and very far.
Initial statement: This story can also be found at AO3 under the same name and whatever. I have no sense of morals or shock factor so I don't quite understand what needs warning and what does not, if you find something which you believe needs heads up, do tell me. I will be very grateful. Also, no beta and all that, English is my second language and I'm not quite used to it as of yet. This fic has been under heavy editing and rewriting since the beginning of 2018. If you see random updates or find wild edits, that is mostly the reason.
24/03/2019: After a long while, I have decided to start uploading the rewritten version here as well.
More complete summary, new version: Namimori. A weird place where things are weird, people are weirder, and everything is a complete and beautiful mess. It doesn't help that it is the home of the craziest God in the living universe, who is everywhere ruining everyone's lives, and the citizens feed the land with their tears and suffering. It isn't all that surprising that it is full of conspiracies and supernatural things and... Mafia?
In a world with only one possible and terrible outcome, the World's number one Hitman Reborn and the world's most bizarre spirit Daemon Spade compete against time, the town and each other to raise the most powerful mafia boss in history from a pair of strangely similar yet radically different brothers. Meanwhile, two fated opposites grow up together in an extremely messed up city that teaches them to not trust anyone and be ready to fight at all times, while both of them struggle to keep the other unaware of the future.
Featuring: People who should stick to their timelines, people who should stick to their dimensions, people changing allegiance, really messed up things. Torture, brainwashing, people abusing their skills, uncanny-like horror. Conspiracies and ancient civilizations. Corruption. Night & Earth Flames being particularly important. Slow fic, starts really slow (hopefully the rewrite isn't as slow).
(Or: the one where Daemon Spade is not AS crazy and plans lots of cool things (at this point he is probably the most stable of them all), Tsunayoshi is the next Sky Arcobaleno in line (and he really can't deal with all this shit), Reborn has no idea what to do with all this what-is-going-on and no one knows why the DC hasn't kicked Hidetada out yet.
Featuring also: Shōichi and Haru as badass babysitters, Byakuran and Enma as Tsuna's accomplices in life and an Actual Sawada Grandfather. And ghosts, because why not (they are canon so). Also, Kawahira is everywhere because he is Terrible.)
More complete summary, old version: Daemon Spade knew he would get bored of small inside works in the Vongola. It had taken two hundred years, but it finally happened. Now, though, inside work through a carefully groomed heir sounds way more interesting than anything he has ever done before. It must mean something that there are two Sawada brothers, right?
Sawada Tsunayoshi was ten when he realized the story wasn't about him. He was just a supporting character, even if he was the one with the cursed pacifier stone thing, the one who saw all the ghosts and the one with the tutor from hell. Well, maybe he is the damsel-in-distress. Or, the antagonist. Yeah, maybe he is the antagonist, that sounds good to him.
Reborn arrived (peaceful, normal) Namimori to train Sawada Hidetada to be the next Vongola boss, with the orders that no word about the Mafia must reach the younger brother. Hidetada, meanwhile, just wants to live a law-abiding life in his definitely not-Mafia-infested town. POV everchanging.
1: prologue(s)
Summary: Namimori is mostly sunny, but lately it is always cloudy, with a hint of storms and lightning.
Last Updated: March 24th, 2019
A Prologue to the End
Namimori, ?, Year ?
A dust-covered sphere lays atop a stone. Small, glassy orange, small wisps of white and black and reddish-brown wrapped around its core.
Had it not been covered in dust from years of neglect, had it not been lying atop a crumbling stone that had clearly been there too long, had it not been where it currently is, it might have passed for something precious. Simple, delicate, the colors weaving with each other in proof of masterful skill by its maker; simple, delicate, smooth surface polished until it had the shape of a perfect sphere. Simple, yet grand, a magnificent work of art as big as a young child.
Simple, perfect as all man-made creations aim to be, yet too perfect to be anything but man-made. Like the Moon in its constant orbit around Earth, or like the human body working to keep itself alive. Like something pulled from nature in its creation, made as vital to the world as water and earth, yet mysterious like atoms. As if it was one last puzzle for Humanity to solve before they could be.
Like the final masterpiece of one crafter before his death. Unmatched, unreplicable.
The dais it rests on, the chamber it rests inside, could have been beautiful once, but has now been overtaken by nature. Blood red roots pierce through the ceiling, through the walls and mirrors, reaching into the ground and around the crumbling stone. Shattered glass and sharp metal and debris litter the floor, the barely-visible carvings and reliefs covered in muddy water and rotting leaves and wood.
The sphere is untouched. Through the years, no damage has come to it: not the water, not the roots, not the debris.
Six pillars around the room are the only thing keeping the ceiling from collapsing atop the sphere, though even then the sphere may come undamaged. Each at equal distance from their ward and from each other, from each of the had-been mirrors, in each corner joining carved walls. Each decorated with what could have been detail, but is now dull rock and faded stories. Each with their own niche, not too small, not too big, with their own colorful glass-like sphere inside them.
Six pillars. Six mirrors. Six walls. Six spheres. The room, shaped like an hexagon, would probably have everything in sets of six, had nature and time not destroyed most of what made its decoration.
They are smaller than the center one, but no less grand. No less perfect. No less neglected. Wisps of black and white and orange around their core, slowly moving and joining with each other.
Together, all seven make up the colors of the rainbow.
All seven together are bigger than life itself. They could remain as they are for as long as they have so far, and into the future. Unmoved, unperturbed, their colorful wisps balancing each other in their eternal dance around each other.
But then, the world recoils.
Time itself shudders as something that should be celebrated makes it bend, makes it go back on itself and fix a single moment, flowing on from there at a more sedated pace. Space howls as beings as different as Light and the Ocean and the Sky mesh together to come out as something not quite sustainable, broken in the middle, unable to help itself. Nature shatters somewhere deep, deep inside, dripping blood and pain into the land and the people, slowly drowning it in its suffering.
A single white strand in the orange sphere is swallowed by black. It remains black, and black and black until no white remains, and it starts to attack the orange before reddish-brown can hold it back.
Yet the damage is already done.
The sphere cracks. A small crack, easily missed, but still a crack.
Black oozes from it, a miasma as heavy as iron that falls to the water, crawls to a root and clings, reaching higher and higher, burnt black and rot making the root curl up on itself. It breaks off, falling to the floor and crumbling to ash, and the rot spreads more and more and more.
Elsewhere, elsewhen, in other worlds that could have been, people rejoice.
They rejoice, unknowing that a simple mistake, a single thing they overlooked, might just be the start of their own doom.
on the foggy glass before the city
"Good morning, everyone! This is Miura Satoshi, and you are listening to Morning, Namimori~! It is 7AM everywhere except in Kokuyō, gates are currently closed, and the day is foggy with a hint of rain. City watch warns early birds of maintenance works in 7th street, near Passage 43, which might be dangerous for pedestrians; alternate routes to your works may include 3rd Street, Passage 56 or the 10th Diagonal."
7th Street, Passage 43 is a common, boring intersection. While it is used as a shortcut to some business in the morning, it is usually quiet, the only thing of interest in the area being a small corner store that stocks on bulk packs of energy drinks. It opens from 5PM to 9AM, strangely enough, which means its daily patrons are almost always the city watch on shift.
Almost always is not always.
"Delta, target in sight. Repeat, target in sight."
"Wah, she has a weapon!"
A human figure sits on the ledge of the store's roof, kicking their legs on rhythm with the beat coming from the building. They are small, maybe a teenager, watching the street with a pair of night-vision binoculars.
The figure groans.
"Shouldn't this be left to the adults? I feel way out of my league here, Jude."
"Same, Delta. Same- should I relay to enforcers?"
"Do. I will stall."
The figure -one Sawada Hidetada, 13 years old- puts away the binoculars in his bag. It is small, black and shapeless, more reminiscent of a market plastic bag than anything else. From it, he pulls out three sticks which he joins together to make a staff twice as long as his arm.
He jumps down from the ledge of the roof, using his staff to aid his fall, and then sticks close to the wall. His hand goes to the small earpiece wrapped around his ear and taps it twice. Three seconds later, a double tap comes from the other side, and then after three more seconds, another. By the front corner, a hand with all five fingers raised shows up from the shadows.
"Jude, Delta ready."
"Got it. Closest enforcer is two minutes away, they are heading your way."
He nods, as a response is not needed. The hand in the distance makes a fist and disappears, yet Hidetada knows his companions are still watching. The fog makes for poor visibility, but he can still make out the boy lounging by the fence of a residential balcony.
A door opens. It is silent, but the person who comes out is not. A woman. The woman wears a long dress, carries a small briefcase in her hand, and talks cheerfully at her phone. She isn't very pretty: average looks, slightly taller than Hidetada's mother, wavy brown hair cut short at her shoulders. She wouldn't call much attention to her, except for the way she holds herself; like a panther stalking its prey, her eyes sweep the street before deciding her direction.
Hidetada waits for her to walk past his hiding spot. She stops, looking at her phone in confusion, and while she is distracted he darts towards her and snatches her briefcase.
"W- THIEF!" The woman's shriek sounds nothing like the sweet voice she used on the phone. Hidetada hears it fall to the ground as he runs, the woman's steps loud and quick behind him, and he knows his companion will destroy it before she notices.
Hidetada likes efficiency. Efficiency and prompt acting are what make them deserving of the armbands that identify the Disciplinary Committee.
Now, he runs. He moves in a quick zigzag across the road, diving into the thick mist and uncaring of the cold that clings to his clothes. Anytime now, the enforcer will arrive. He hopes it is before whatever made Jude warn them comes out.
A gun goes bang! behind him, bullet cutting through the fog far too close to his ear for comfort. He turns right just before the second shot and slides on a puddle toward his companion. The hand he had been watching earlier snatches the briefcase from his outstretched hand-
"Jude, safe. The ghoul?"
-and he immediately plants his staff on the ground so he can straighten himself and dodge the third bullet coming his way.
The woman is close enough Hidetada can see her eyes go wide. She halts, hand going lose around the gun, mouth hanging open before she yelps and jumps back at the arrow embedded where her feet were a second ago.
"Ghoul on sight. For me, that is, ha-"
Hidetada uses the distraction to slash his staff at the woman's hand, knocking the gun off her hand. She recovers, grabbing the staff and pulling towards her hard enough Hidetada has to let go before he comes inside her range of action. Her strength is nothing special, but anyone who lives in town is wary of coming close to others: you never know who has weapons hidden under their clothes, or who has unpaid debts to your family. The Disciplinary Committee is no exception.
"Why are you here so early, boy? Where is you mom?" The woman twirls the staff to balance herself. The fog grows thicker. The air around them stills and freezes in under a second, making Hidetada shiver at the unnatural feel of the day.
"Sorry, ma'am." He takes a step back, stepping away from the growing shadow under his feet. "Work is work."
He turns and bolts just before the chains snap forth. The enforcer appears with an unearthly shriek and a displacement of air, void pulling everything around it into the nothingness. The woman screams, a high and broken sound that pulls at the matter around it before it goes deathly silent.
Hidetada shakes and hides in the light. He can retrieve his staff later.
"Delta, alright?"
"Just fine, Jude. Whiplash. I'm too young for this."
"Agreed. The ghoul is vicious, I think I need mind bleach."
"Shut up, Kino. Jude, confirm, seven blanks?"
"Seven blanks, correct."
"Mira, Kino, go back. Jude, can you report? I will deal with the ghoul."
"Alright~ Delta, Kino, out!"
"Delta, Mira, out. I will deliver the blanks. Be safe."
"You as well, Delta."
Hidetada turns the dial to another station. A cheery pop tune comes on, something he vaguely recognizes as a Swedish band that had been the radio host's favored for this last month. His watch reads 7:18, which means he is already late for morning practice. Not that he can do much about it: the summons had been delayed by interference, interrupting his morning routine, and as they had been the ones closest to the immediate danger they had been sent over. The delay could have cost them, but fortunately it didn't. For that, he is grateful.
'Sawada Hidetada.'
He looks back at the ghoul. It is heavily cloaked, chains hanging from its arms and neck, lightly floating like gravity was not of importance. The air around it still feels light, calling for him to go closer, yet not as deathly cold as it had been a short while before. The woman is nowhere to be seen.
He thinks he recognizes this one. The voice is distorted, pulling at nerves in his ears he didn't even know he had, but it is a tone he has heard before. That, and the dull red stone hanging from its wrist is familiar, similar to the one he sees every day he has History classes. He doubts it is his History teacher, maybe a relative, but even if he could identify it he would definitely never mention it to the ghoul's face.
"Enforcer." He bows slightly, just enough to be respectful. The ghoul bows back at him, chains rattling as they bend out if reality in an attempt to get to him.
'We have responded to the summons and dealt with the threat accordingly. Your help is, as always, much appreciated.'
"Yeah, you too. Sorry about the time, we didn't know."
'It is of no importance. We were nearby. Now, we must go.'
Hidetada nods, waving the ghoul farewell as it dissolves into the void.
The radio clicks- "I have been informed that works in Passage 43 are now finished. The road is open again for your daily use, Namimori!"- and the voice of Miura Satoshi comes back on air just in time for Hidetada to head home.
Jude is waiting for him in the intersection. Amura Kēgo, Hidetada's seat neighbour in class, is a boy with a round face, thin fingers and zero skills with any weapon outside of a videogame. Much like other students of Namimori Elementary, he wears no uniform, only telling his allegiance through the red band tied to his bag; much like other members of the Disciplinary Committee, he carries a deceptively heavy bag, where he hides the device they had been using for coordinating.
He joins Hidetada on his walk, steps short and sluggish from the early hours. Hidetada himself isn't much different: he barely slept last night, only got up on time thanks to routine and the conditioned fear of being late that everyone in town had.
The silence is welcoming. Hidetada has never been one for much talk outside of buildings, and Kēgo never speaks unless through a phone, but even without those limitations it is… nice. Especially in the mornings, and especially today.
Graduation is today.
He really doesn't want to go.
(He has already forgotten about the ghoul.)
on the beautiful tale of Namimori
Sawada Ietsuna takes a step back so he can see himself in the full-body mirror of his room. The dark green yukata doesn't fit him quite as well as a few years ago, shoulders too big for his frail frame, but it is still fitting enough he doesn't feel uncomfortable walking in it. Chiyo steps behind him, holding his haori up so he can easily slip it on, and he smiles at the finished ensemble.
Maybe it is not quite as elegant and awe inspiring as Sasagawa's had been last year, but the whole town doubts anyone can beat Sasagawa Yōta except the one who should have been emperor himself. Ietsuna had never been the kind of person who got involved in the fashion wars between the two -he had tried, back when he was younger, and when Masato hadn't grown into his robes just yet, but upon finding his wardrobe filled with tiny foam balls that fell on him when he opened the door, he had given up.
"I wonder what will you do when he graduates High School," Chiyo says behind him, and Ietsuna turns with arms spread wide and a bright grin in his face. His sister is looking at him through small square glasses, squinting as if she was trying to peer into the future, but then she gives a gentle smile and reaches to hold his arm. "Well, let's go find your babysitter and we can go."
"Chiyo! That's so cruel, I don't need a babysitter!" He locks his arm with hers, and they adopt the usual walk that pretends he isn't being held up by her strength alone so they can walk out.
The hospital isn't as dreadful as he thought it would be, years back. Old and new friends wander the halls since early in the morning and until nearly midnight, chatting and making up games with each other as they would outside. Visitors of all ages drop by in the late morning until early evening, bringing news and gossip, so there is no shortage of topics to talk about in the hall. Sometimes, some of them will gather around Ietsuna and reminisce about the old golden days, but most of them prefer to stick to those of their own age groups or ideals.
He is the oldest of the floor, in the adult ward, as not many make it to Ietsuna's age in Namimori, definitely not enough to need a permanent senior ward. Those around him respect him, for his age if not for his name, and he gets to see his grandsons and daughter-in-law every week, and Chiyo most days. He isn't abandoned or miserable, not like those TV series make his situation look like, and he is happy.
He would be happier if his son would visit.
They find Michiko at the main reception desk, tapping her fingers at the beat of the song playing in the speakers while speaking to the receptionist. She is out of her nurse uniform, dressed instead in a long skirt and coat, with her hair done up in a neat ponytail. Simple, yet elegant. Ietsuna doesn't think many people would think she is his 'babysitter', at least not anyone who has been living outside of Namimori or under a rock for the past three years.
"-but it was the butler, Rina, the butler ! How was I supposed to know he wanted to marry the daughter, they didn't say that anywhere in the book!"
And, as always, she is spoiling books.
"Michiko!" Rina hides her face in her hands and tries to cover her ears. Ietsuna sees her vanish behind the desk, but her voice still comes up tinted in mock anger. "I haven't finished it yet, stop spoiling the end!"
Chiyo, still holding his arm as if he was escorting her, sighs and drags him forwards so she can grab Michiko by her bag. The girl -for that's what she is to Ietsuna, so young even when she is married- yelps as she almost falls back, her balance and grace abandoning her the moment she tries to hold on to Chiyo's arm. She ends up looking up at Ietsuna in an uncomfortable angle, her head very close to the ground and holding her weight up with a weak, trembling arm.
"-Ietsuna-sama! You are here!" Her eyes are wide, surprised. Her necklace falls from her chin to her nose before she straightens herself, dusting nonexistent dust from her clothes.
"Michiko, what are you doing?"
"My lord was taking ages to get here, so-" She waves a hand around with a distraught noise, and Ietsuna lets out a short laugh.
Chiyo goes to Rina, signing her name in the visitor's book and in his file, and they can go. They walk out to the cold spring day while Michiko checks her bag (medicine, phone, more medicine, notebook) and fixes her hair and asks Ietsuna how he is feeling this morning.
Unlike other days when they go out, there aren't many people out. Usually there would be people wandering at this time, well past 9 in the morning: late risers, those on holiday, homemakers out for various necessities; however, today they only greet a cyclist making his way to downtown, and then the streets are left bare. Namimori is already a small city, closer to a town than a city really: with both Kokuyō and Midori, Namimori's population barely reaches the 40 thousand, but it is usually not so empty, or so quiet. The lack of noise makes it almost seem like a ghost city, streets empty, light signs blinking for no one to see, with few stores open on their way.
Then again, it is understandable. While early and bright, it is a little cold and there are dark rain clouds gathering in the sky near the borders of the city. A storm was forecast, a terrible omen for such a good day. Today is graduation day for the grade schools in the city, all the six they have, and chance is it will start raining right in the middle of the ceremonies. While they are all escalator schools (and four of them share the exact name), and all the children will continue having the same schoolmates until the very end, ceremonies such as these were still celebrated grandly in their city.
And today, there will be a storm. Not exactly something people want, when they want to gossip in peace.
He certainly doesn't want to go. Not if he will have to hear three adults sitting behind him gossiping about the child currently up the stage, or about their family. Not if he will have to keep Michiko and Chiyo from attacking a pair of unsuspecting men when they spontaneously insult and curse their families. He doesn't want to go.
But he has to.
If he has to be honest, Ietsuna has never cared much for education. Not for 'formal' education, at least, not the way the Japanese government had ruled it. Then again, Ietsuna never cared much for the sad attempts of the last ruler to make Namimori a model Japanese city. He likes the paved roads and the urban planning that came along with it, he enjoys the almost citywide distribution of electricity and drinkable water, he supports anything that will make their lives easier. Mandatory education was just going too far, especially in Namimori.
Both Chiyo and himself had been homeschooled, learning only the necessary, and then they were told to train whatever they wanted for a job. He had sent Iemitsu (and, in a way, Michiko) to school, if only so he would create bonds with others, but then he never finished it at all. He had been reluctant to send Hidetada to school, but by then the Japanese laws were accepted enough by the city that it hadn't been a choice at all. Hidetada, who should have grown up at his Aunt's side in the shrine, who should have learned through experience as Ietsuna had, just… did not.
At times, Ietsuna really worries about where the city will go when the administration changes hands. That is why he still teaches his grandsons what he was taught, even if he can't do anything about the ruler's son and his people.
Hidetada isn't fourteen yet. He is still a child, a child whose soul flames haven't settled yet. He should be underground learning the paths of the city, or at the forest playing, or getting used to feeling the pillars at each point of their coast. He shouldn't be around town hunting law breakers or outsiders, shouldn't have to face adults in combat, shouldn't be a soldier.
And yet…
Maybe, the reason why Ietsuna wants and yet doesn't want to go to this particular event is because it will remind people that the children are still children. That no matter what their names are, what they are meant to do when they grow up, they are still their own people. That no matter how many times they have seen any of the students standing guard above a building, or casually talking to ghoul-policemen, they are still children.
Maybe, their generation can be free.
They are nearing Namimori Elementary (the first one built) when Michiko waves at someone up a roof. Sure enough, the commander himself is up there in full ceremonial regalia: black gakuran hanging from his shoulders, red and gold armband attached to it, but otherwise the same school uniform as all Namimori schools. The only difference from the usual are the two coins (one bronze, one copper) hanging from his belt, and the dagger strapped at arm length instead of twin tonfa (Ietsuna doesn't know where the tonfa are hidden, and he doesn't want to ask).
The commander looks at them. He gives a small, barely respectful nod, and disappears, probably to make sure his people are in line.
Ietsuna feels really old. He remembers a time when Michiko wore that, sharp knuckles hidden in her pocket, and before that when Kusakabe Hideo didn't even bother to hide his spear, and even before that. He has forgotten some names, but Kyōya, Katsuya, Michiko, Hideo… The list goes on and on, always the same coins, the same dagger, always the same town. From childhood to college and beyond, always the same red armbands.
They join the crowd gathered in the school's courtyard. Soldiers guard the area, and soldiers wait in line to be called up front for their childish diplomas. They stand in perfects lines, perfectly straight, completely aware of what goes on around them, completely out of place when between normal schoolchildren. He can even see some twitching for their weapons, others standing between the crowd and the civilians as if they could get attacked any moment.
He sees Hidetada, flanked by Amura and Yamamoto. He is twirling a piece of his staff in his hands, head bobbing up and down at an unknown rhythm. Amura sits on the ground, tapping at his phone at inhuman speed, and Yamamoto keeps an uninterrupted line of what Ietsuna assumes is stream of consciousness. A girl twirls her skirt a few people to the side, left and right and left and right, and a pair of boys hold hands as they whisper to one another.
I hope with all my heart my death will release them from their madness, an old journal he had read last night said. The handwriting had been shaky, Italian and Spanish and Romanian working together to make the entry as desperation-driven as the writer seemed to be. I hope when I die they realize what this cursed island does to them.
Ietsuna wonders if it is the island, or just human nature coming out when everything is out for them.
on that which should not exist
A teenager and a child sit on the marker just in the road to Kokuyō. They are silent, one reading a heavy book, the other looking at the darkening sky and counting cloud shapes. He is at a hundred and twenty-six, but he has already lost count of how many times he has counted the same clouds.
They aren't invited to Hidetada's graduation.
Well, they are, but Tsunayoshi doesn't like crowds, the school or the crowded school, and Irie Shōichi doesn't care enough about school to go there one day they don't have classes. He had graduated Midori Elementary already, no force on Earth would make him go back; he is happy in Yumei, where he doesn't have to deal with girls anymore, or so he says.
Still, not wanting to go to the ceremony had left them with nothing to do. Tsunayoshi hadn't planned far enough, and after his mother had given him to Shōichi as she locked the house, he had realized he forgot his notebook on his bed. Not even his mentor is here, as he is off in Italy doing who-knows-what, so he can't continue his studies.
Looks like he will be Dame-Tsuna once again this term.
He didn't want to be like this. It isn't his fault he can't read kanji, the strokes keep moving around whenever he tries to focus on them; besides, most, if not all books in his house are written in Latin alphabet, either English or Italian, and he spent long enough learning kana already. It also isn't his fault maths is terrible, since the teacher is terrible and everyone does terrible in maths. He is horrible at P.E. as well, but good luck doing anything physical when everything is set for people a head taller than he is.
The only thing he is good at is History, and that is because he lives with a history maniac who saw everything happen , and who insists on making him know dates down to the month. Even then, he gets distracted at class because everyone and everything is so loud he can't hear anything past his headache.
He has long since accepted he will always be Dame-Tsuna. He has made peace with it.
(His mentor and friends have not, and they constantly try to push him to become More. Tsuna doesn't want to be More, he just wants to be Tsuna.)
Still, invited or not, they are currently out here. The city is disturbingly empty, most people staying indoors if they aren't at the schools, and also eerily quiet. Namimori has always been a quiet place, more so the closer one got to Kokuyō, but even then, the lack of nature's sounds today is unnatural. Tsuna thinks that, even if someone were to scream their lungs out right before him, he wouldn't hear them at all.
It is just that time of the year, though. Spring is just starting, birds return to their homes in the heights of their trees, some litter of puppies whine to their mother, and shadows raise from the grounds after months of hibernation. It somehow feels like all the attention of the world focuses on the land as it wakes, making sure that everything goes well, and the silence is an abnormality that is definitely not meant to be there.
Shōichi turns a page of his book, and it is loud . It makes Tsuna cringe away from him, rolling away until he falls off the carved stone with a yelp. The ground is just hard enough to be uncomfortable, wet and cold, and Tsuna considers getting up for a heartbeat before he buries his face on the grass with a groan.
"Shō-"
"No."
"But Shō-"
"No."
And that's that.
Tsuna groans, letting his whole weight slump on the ground with a simple thought and a loud click in his mind (if his mentor isn't here, he won't spend energy in keeping up his façade). He turns his head so he can see the grass growing near the path and small budding wildflowers that covers most of the western land of Namimori. In a week or so, they will bloom, and they will be dead by the next, and then bloom again, and so on until it becomes autumn once again.
The land sings. He can hear it. He can feel the usually lazy life of nature itself surging up to him, to Shōichi, trying to grasp something on them before Tsuna bats it away with a thought. Like a lazy lounging lion bats an annoyance away with its tail, just an instinctive reaction to something buzzing far too close for comfort.
If he focuses enough, he can hear people talking back in town. Loud and inconsiderate, like all humans are, that lazy feel of nature impinging on them.
He could rest here forever, at ease. Far from people, with only his family and friends as visitors, away from the madness that surrounds their hometown and themselves.
But he can't do that.
"Do you think Kokuyō is open yet?"
Tsuna whines and pulls himself up with a weak hold on Shōichi's leg. Shōichi who, of course, doesn't help him, instead looking up at the sky with a resigned sigh.
The voice came from a pretty girl, probably a year or so older than Tsuna. She is fidgety, walking towards the town marker with an odd hop step ahead, back half a step pace, too quick for Tsuna to see if his step count is right. She seems to be stepping only on the big stones of the path and, occasionally, will give a twirl and try to grab her companion.
Her friend is slower and calmer, although that could be due to the rather heavy looking cargo he carries. He holds a briefcase with both hands before him, which hinders his walk. It doesn't stop his defenses, though, as whenever the girl comes close he will dodge to a side, using the briefcase to control his swing so he will land in the exact same place as he was before.
Kariya Rēna and Morikawa Daiki. They are two years above Tsuna in Namimori Elementary, not that Tsuna knows many of his schoolmates by name or that he cares at all, but he would have to be stupid or dead or living under a rock to not know these two. Hidetada, at the very least, knows them well enough that they visit some weekends, and Kariya lives three, four houses down his own, but that isn't important when it comes to them.
No. What is important are the bright bands tied to their wrists; simple cloth, not even cut properly, no words or lining, but with the not-so-obvious meaning that everything red brought with it: Disciplinary Committee. And worst, they are part of Hidetada's own usual red-tinted strike team, which means Tsuna owes them knowing their names and a greeting every once in a while, at the very least.
So when they reach the town marker, Tsuna lifts a lazy hand as a greeting. The two jump at his voice, looking at him wide-eyed like they hadn't noticed him there, but relax a second later and greet back.
"Sawada youngest. Irie-san." Morikawa nods towards them, his oddly quiet demeanor completely out of place next to Kariya's two-armed wave and attempted hug. He puts the briefcase down, the loud thump of it hitting the ground revealing how heavy it is, and then reaches to grab his partner's shirt to pull her back. "How curious to find you here today."
"Likewise, likewise…" Shōichi is already getting up in a vague, almost unnoticeable attempt at protecting Tsuna by standing between the two children and Tsuna himself (he knows this, because he has seen it before, not because Shōichi has any tells about it). While the two are not particularly dangerous, there is still something about them, something most of the children of Namimori and nearby towns have, that puts them on edge.
Tsuna thinks Shōichi is being hypocritical. He, too, is a child of Namimori; he, too, has that particular sharpness in his movements, deceptively weak limbs and that wild glint in his eyes that belongs to a predator on hunt. He has seen it often enough on Hidetada, on Takeshi, on his grandfather and in Shōichi's mother. It is just life. Just anyone else who lives in this place.
Some show it more than others, though. Like Morikawa, whose eyes dart from Shōichi to the path of flowers behind them, fingers clenching and cracking like he is getting ready for a fight. Like Kariya, whose steady bounce looks cute while hiding the strong kick that can, and has broken limbs. Like Takeshi and Hidetada, the Hibari, even the Miura.
"Hm, senpai's graduation is today? Why aren't you there?" Kariya motions to the city, still bouncing in place, and then throws herself at her partner once again to make him step off the path.
"I'm not good with people, nor with ceremonies, or-," Tsuna says quietly, ignoring the immediate comment about how he is being obvious from the three, and goes to check the briefcase. He knows what this is, and he really wants to know what it is doing anywhere away from the temple. "Are you taking this to the temple?"
"It is recovered goods." Morikawa shrugs, eyes still looking at the distant gate of Kokuyō. Absentmindedly, he plucks a flower from the town marker and tucks it in his hair, then reaches for another one. "I thought Kokuyō would be better, but I forgot it is… closed..."
Tsuna gives him an sympathetic smile. "It is closed still, should open soon…? I think."
The Committee girl growls, looking up at the sky, probably for the time. "Daiki-"
"Shut up, Kino," comes the response from the still-distracted boy. His hands tremble around his collected flowers as he, too, looks up at the sky in distress. "What to do…"
Shōichi and Tsuna share a look, one more understanding than the other. What else can they do? The briefcase is sensitive materials and probably need to get brought back soon, and it isn't like they have much else to do, though Tsuna knows all Shōichi wants is to stay away from all matters involving blanks.
It takes a few seconds for Shōichi to look away, grumbling to himself. He complains about puppy eyes, acting and crocodile tears even as he wraps his hand in his sleeve, careful to not let his skin touch the metal as he picks up the briefcase. There is a flash of red as Kariya makes to kick at him, but Morikawa grabs her leg before she can, looking at them in confusion.
"We will take it," Tsuna says with what tries to be a bright smile, probably failed. The slow blink from Morikawa is more than enough to know he did fail at even the smallest of reassuring methods, but that will not discourage him! He will keep trying. "Really, we will."
Morikawa blinks again, as if trying to see through the lie, but then Kariya throws herself at him again.
"It will do! Thanks, Tsu-chan!"
Tsuna can only watch in wonder as the girl picks up her partner before she starts running back to Namimori, flower petals flying behind her as Morikawa waves at them.
Shōichi sighs.
"This town is so weird."
on the reality of an ancient family
Sawada Hidetada -commonly known as Hide-, heir to the ancient house of Sawada (a title that meant nothing and everything at the same time), was four and newly Named when his baby brother was born. Four years old when he, in all his curiousness, looked at the bundle of clothes and hair like it was an intruder fallen from the sky, poking it insistently much to his mother's amusement.
"This is Tsunayoshi," she had said, uncovering the baby's head. She had held Hide's hand in hers when he reached to caress his new brother. "He is your little brother. Isn't he cute?"
He was cute, Hide thought. He thought so for years, he still thinks so; even when the little menace opened his eyes (round, amber, glowing; so unlike Hide's own slanted blue ones) and started crawling, even when he grabbed and pulled at Hide's hair and messed up his carefully combed locks, even when he took the shiny, shiny stones and tried to eat them. Even when the mini-spawn from hell began standing on his tiny little feet and breaking things, kicked and wailed nonstop when Hide held him, even when he kept trying to walk into buildings not his own. He was terrifyingly cute.
Hide loved him.
"The both of you will bring the house down, I tell you," their grandfather scolded them, reaching to pick up a vase Tsuna had dropped. Hide had laughed, holding on to his brother's giggling form as he kicked the shōgi board. "It survived many generations, but you will end up destroying it. Worse than Iemitsu, you two are."
Then his brother grew up. He was Named similarly to Hidetada years back, and given a blank soul to hold on to, blank which glowed brighter than Hide's own as it took on a dark blue-tinted orange color. It was bright, a translucent beautiful soul that his brother hung from his neck, proudly displayed for the world to see. I am a King , the stone said, just like Hide's own soul spoke to everyone else: I am a King, and you shall kneel .
No one kneeled. Sawada Tsunayoshi prefered to stay away from people, hiding his fears behind his family name and his brother; hiding his nature from the world, bright glowing sphere faint under clothes. And, just like his brother, Tsunayoshi walked further and further away from normalcy with each passing day.
He started talking to ghosts, to things not in this plane of reality; his mood would change with no warning, and his desire to do things disappeared; he would burn things (he said that they spontaneously combust. He never believed a word Tsuna said) and hide other things under his bed. Not that Hide didn't have his own problems, what with the outcast status the whole ancient house heir brought along, since for some reason his classmates were convinced he was a stuck-up good for nothing freak , and then being reluctantly dragged into Hibari-senpai's Disciplinary Committee.
Not his fault, never his fault. No one's fault.
He used to care about that. About being an outcast, or being forced to make things he didn't really feel like doing; about Tsunayoshi's odd attitude about the world and his far reaching eyes, about others . Now, he laughs. So what if he plays shōgi better than he plays video games (he likes arcade games, but is terrible at them), what if he does old fashioned martial arts (Aikido is great, and definitely not old fashioned); what if he shakes hands instead of bowing, what if he speaks Italian better than their mandatory second language (English)?
His family is partly foreign, more so than everyone else. At times, he feels foreign, walking Namimori like he doesn't know where he is, looking behind walls for anything that would make him feel more at home, looking to fill the emptyness in his very being being that his family drags behind them like the heavy mantle of duty.
It doesn't mean anything. Bad or good. It is just ancestry. Just family. Just blood, and while blood is important in Namimori, he really doesn't see the point of caring much about the past.
He loves his family, really. From his grandfather, with his many long-served rants on family history and the beautiful tale of Namimori, the Gods, the Fire of Life ; to his grandfather's sister with her scoldings, terrifying strength and bitter tea (and her family, by association); to his mother with her late-night sessions of mystery novel reading and her constant scrutiny of everything; to his maternal grandparents who mail books disguised as letters every few months, even if he has met them twice.
Even his brother, with his terrible habit of setting things on fire and laughing, and his pacifier-like charm and hisghosts and spirits and vanishing stores.
He doesn't like his father much, but that's okay. The man never shows up and their grandfather has been a good enough paternal figure for the past fourteen years. And Mamma had done a really good job managing the house on her own, thank you.
He even likes his classmates, even if they don't like him back. Even if they ignore him, he will always have a smile on his face, will always be willing to give up time for everyone else. More so after taking the red armband, and all the fear and respect it brought along.
He likes his extended family, which reaches all of his island. He likes the peace and quiet that is Namimori, from Old Town to the modern buildings in 3rd Street. He likes the dark and muddy old house of his grandfather's, and he also likes the house his father and mother bought for themselves. He likes the quiet of the shrine and the loud casualness of school. He likes the people. He likes the normal.
Namimori is peaceful and quiet and normal. His life is fine. Past all the odd happenings and happy vigilante acts, his life is fine.
And he will do whatever it takes for it to continue being fine.
on the reality of a broken family
Ietsuna was never stupid. He still isn't, but he doesn't understand how his own son managed to be such a failure of a father. Not that his own father was all that great: Sawada Yoshinobu was known for his constant status of not being in the city, but the man tried harder than Iemitsu apparently ever did.
He wants to believe he was a good father to Iemitsu, but one can only be so good when raising a child alone. His wife had given in to her illness soon after their child was born, and Ietsuna's darling sister had her own family. So maybe, he had messed up. Been too clingy to his son, been too rooted to his family house that he was unwilling to move, even if for just a few days.
Been too rooted to tradition, watching as children became soldiers and soldiers became pawns.
Chiyo always did say he was obsessive . Obsessive, with a melancholy issue! But she had been good to him, keeping him alive long enough for him to have a family and make it to old age (it is 2009. How did he make it to the new millennium?).
Maybe, if Iemitsu had had a sibling, he wouldn't be as he is. Maybe, if Ietsuna had raised the children he found and brought back himself instead of going the easy way out, Iemitsu would be better. Maybe he wouldn't have ran away as soon as he turned fourteen and Ietsuna was family-bound to sit him down and tell him 'Iemitsu, you know that story about Ieyasu-sama coming from Italy where he founded a Mafia family? Well, it is true, and the Famiglia is still around'.
Maybe it would have been different. But what can he do?
He always wanted a sibling, himself. A blood-sibling , who he could share 'how many things can magically combust around us' tales and have slow motion fights in the attic while their mother yelled at them to not break anything and specially not the mirror! Chiyo was great, is great , a great sister and companion, but she didn't see the world the same as he did. And his father was never around for him to ask. Nor were there any other living family relative from that side of the family.
Grandfather Yoshimune had joked around, and the whole town agreed that they were cursed. Cursed to have a single, male child in every generation to carry on the family line (his sister had died at childbirth. The baby didn't make it). He knew that his father, Yoshinobu, had gone through Ieyasu-sama's journals looking for a reason for all these miscarriages and deaths (it had to be a curse, right? Some demon, some spirit that could be exorcised). He remembers hearing of a scratched-out page with a spade symbol drawn in a corner, but that burnt soon after his beloved father died of, well, a mysterious fire that lit up the shed.
(Fire isn't blue.)
He also remembers very well the day when Iemitsu came back to Namimori, a beautiful and young girl at his side and a one-year-old in her arms. 'My wife, Nana,' he had said, 'and this is Hidetada!' And, then he had gone off to find a new, modern house for his family that didn't reek of ash, old traditions and forgotten families overseas, while he and Chiyo interrogated Nana about the (Christian) wedding, the child's birth and what colour would look good for the celebration, because of course we must celebrate, Sawada style.
A couple years later he had worried so much when Nana had had complications at Tsuna's birth. A simple problem in these days was lethal back then, and, well, he didn't want to lose more family. No more . 'It is back,' he had said, holding Iemitsu's shoulders. 'It is going to kill us all.'
But it didn't. Fortunately, it didn't.
It has been ten years and Tsunayoshi is still alive, if a little on the small side. Hidetada is still alive, and energetic like Iemitsu was when he was his age. Iemitsu, Nana and Ietsuna are still alive, somehow. So is Timoteo, though his old friend is, well, old and tired , and so are his sons; three blood sons and one adopted (and a stillborn girl he would have called Daniela).
He has heard no news from Italy in a while, but somehow, he feels like things will be okay. No news means good news, or so they say. And, while Iemitsu may not be the best father, he is a family man and would tell him if anything happened, right?
...right?
on the reality of a cursed family
He was small when all this supernatural stuff he is used to started happening around him. Really, really small. It was probably about the same time when Hide-nii started training in the boring martial arts with Kusakabe-sensē, but he doesn't remember those years very well, as he was a toddler still clinging to his mother's skirt.
Sawada Tsunayoshi was three, maybe, when he found himself owner of a really particular stone, not unlike the one he would receive upon his 49th month for his naming. A magic stone, he would have said back then. A cursed stone, he says now, behind closed doors. And it really is cursed, as it is. So far he has felt it suck at his energy and try to invade his mind. Stupid pacifier, he doesn't keep it too close to him because of that, but if he keeps it too far then he can't move. As in, he really can't move: he will feel sluggish and his vision will start going… somewhere, and then he will panic before everything starts shutting down.
The last time he had forgotten the pacifier was about three years ago, when he was in a hurry. A terrible hurry, since he had a meeting with Ghost-san and ghosts are vengeful if you don't keep up with your promises (he knows, the blonde man at Grandfather's house still won't talk to him). He didn't make it, in the end, because before he knew it he was waking up on his bed, Mamma tending to asudden spike in your fever, Tsu-kun, why didn't you tell me you are sick?
He is pretty sure he hadn't been sick that day (Hide-nii complained about him hogging the attention, all while looking worriedly at the pacifier-like stone sitting on his desk).
Of course, the stone was the tip of the iceberg. Quite a big iceberg, too, if the mirror-that-was-definitely-a-portal-to-another-world in Grandfather's attic and the pocket watches that kept moving around Namimori were anything to go by (there was a funny thing about the watches, too, since people could see them but couldn't approach them. It is there, but also not?). And those were just two of a hundred of mysteries he has found around Namimori in his quest for immortality and the Sorcerer's Stone.
Or rather, peace and quiet. They had become a commodity once his mentor decided to stay around him.
Then there is the spontaneous combustionthing that started a whole lot of years ago, starting from simple bits of paper and notebooks, a dried log in old town and maybe a couple of his vegetables. It isn't that he wanted to burn them, no, they suddenly, randomly decided to burst into fire in his presence. It was rare, but it happened, and people were… odd, about it (it really wasn't his fault).
Fortunately for Tsuna, he has Ghost-san. Well, apparently he has always had Ghosts, but then there is this particular Ghost that is slightly different from the others. To start with, no matter who he was possessing (and he was really, really picky about that; thank goodness Kyōko-chan fit his expectations!), Tsuna would always be able to tell he was around. He could sense him, like a little voice in his mind told himhey, this is him, this is Ghost-san.
It was like a series of fun sub-quests that involved one unattainable golden watch (it had been by the other side of town, that day. Getting there was the hard part), one dig through piles and boxes of Ieyasu-sama's ancient things looking for a mold-bitten deck of playing cards, Sasagawa Kyōko (her body, really) teaching him how to make lemonade and a pair of dragons made of fire that refused to let go of a bouquet of flowers. Or was it the flowers before the lemonade? Nevermind that, it was a pair ofdragons.
That had been the weirdest day of his life.
No, wait, the day following that one had been the weirdest. But, the other one was also high up there. Second place.
Somehow or another, he ended up having a Ghost for a tutor (wasn't there a manga about the same premise that is currently his life?) He is devious, he is scary, he teaches how to kill people and hide the bodies. He teaches world history like he was there (which, he probably was) and constantly does weird stuff like possess bodies and make illusions. He disappears at times, claiming he has cleaning up to do and that he will be back soon.
So far, he hasn't broken his promise. So far, he has shown him how to control his spontaneous combustion skills, how to deal with the more dangerous spirits without getting killed or eaten, how to manipulate his way around conversations he doesn't want to have. So far, he has been more of a father than his own father ever was.
Well, the strict manners and etiquette lessons he could do without, but no one is perfect. Besides, they will maybe come useful someday in the future?
For now, he worries about his lessons, and how he doesn't want to go to school, and how Namimori seems to be infested with all kinds of weird people, auras and spirits. He will worry about his tutor's reasons later -oh, and the cursed stone, too.
Later, though. Right now, his life is pretty fun.
Character Introductions
(This fic is an AU of an AU of the original series, which means we have many, many new and original characters. Those who have appeared for the first time will be mentioned down here after each chapter, to keep track of them):
Sawada Hidetada: Our protagonist, Vongola Decimo. DC. Leader of team Delta 2, kind of high ranked.
Sawada Ietsuna: Grandfather to Hidetada. Bedridden.
Kusakabe Chiyo, nee Sawada: Martial arts teacher. Adopted sister of Ietsuna.
Amura Kēgo, aka Jude: Childhood friend of Hidetada. DC.
Kariya Rēna, aka Kino: DC. Under Hidetada's command most of the time.
Morikawa Daiki, aka Mira: DC. Under Hidetada's command most of the time.
Sasagawa Michiko, Kawara Rina: Nurses in Namimori General Hospital.
