Retrospective
Note 1: SUE ME. I'M SORRY. I BARELY UPDATE AT MY OTHER FF'S AND NOW I'M MAKING A NEW ONE
Note 2: *CRIES IN SPANISH*
Note 3: Okay. *sniffs* I'm done. This is very crackish. Or how I try it to be crackish OTL
Summary: The perks of having a homicidal marshmallow-freak mare-bearer friend is that he has no qualms of sending you to a Parallel World despite knowing how limited your free time is. Sawada Tsunayoshi, 19 years old and mafia don to the Vongola Famiglia, rubbed his temples in an attempt to calm his nerves. "So I have to deal with this idol shit instead of the mafia one? That's it, I'm done." idol!AU Siblings!1stGen Rated T.
One: Bloody Purity
A brunette stood frozen beside a bench, the harsh upbeat of the sunlight causing his face to redden—or it may have been for a completely different reason as to why his slightly tan skin had gotten hot and discolored.
To any passer-by, he could be another teen undergoing his primitive years towards adulthood, with the exception of his clearly and undoubtedly pricy clothes—an orange undershirt, black tie, sleek black coat, dark underpants, and presumably glowing black shoes due to the light rays that hit it. And the fact that his hair—a wild mane of silky brown—and his face—sharp and calculating pair of orange hues paired off with a beautifully shaped nose and thin pinkish-peach lips—were that belonging to a what could be described as a handsome man.
"Uwah, look at him!" A girl who passed by him gushed at her friend.
"I know, he's so handsome!"
"Could he be a model, perhaps?"
The man, or Sawada Tsunayoshi as we know him, sighed inaudibly, his ears a bit too sharp for his liking. He sat at the bench with a blank face, but his mind was filled with numerous questions, and an apparent thought that he'll be killing a homicidal marshmallow-freak by the time he returns back to his own time. Or universe. Whatever or wherever he originally came from.
He leaned back on the hard wood of the seat, tilting his head up which made him squint when the glinting sun directly invaded his eyesight, 'God, why is this happening?'
He was busy. Sawada Tsunayoshi, 19 years of age, was a busy man. Unlike when he was but an innocent and naive—as Mukuro would call it—14 year old teenager, he had started to succumb at the dark and vile ways of the mafia (sort of); his clumsiness and shrill shrieking voice abandoned, he officially took over as the Vongola's boss at the young age of 16. That was when he had started to get so busy—very busy indeed, what with all the sky-high paper works, business parties that he honestly gave zero fucks, destructive guardians which added to the compiling abomination of written papers even more, going to a university to which he had been reluctant at because please tell me a hundred reasons why I still have to go when I already secured my way of living (His tutor, Reborn, who was a happy-trigger child by then, shoved a gun to his chin, and told him that he's still stupid like he was when he first started teaching him, and made him do a bungee jump from the helicopter stationed ten meters above the Mt. Everest).
His main problem right now was that Byakuran (he wholeheartedly regrets befriending the man every passing second) had somehow sent him to a parallel world—the reason as to why and how was unexplained—and the only words that the said man left him was that, "Hey Tsunayoshi-kun! I know you're bored out of your sanity, and I think I may or may not have found a befitting parallel world to refresh your strained mind. So here you go! Bye-bye! Say hello to the other me of that world!"
'Hello my ass. I'm going to punch his other self senseless when I see him. So that he could get a hint that I'm very very pissed right now.' He heaved another sigh, much heavier than the previous. 'Cross out the 'why'. He had a reason but a very crappy one at that.'
'Reborn is going to kill me.' Sighs.
He retracted his body from the comfort of the bench and looked around, observing and locating himself. 'I'm not… in Namimori. Huh. That's unexpected, or not. But according to the language, I'm somewhere in Japan. And this atmosphere, I'm in Tokyo. What am I doing in Tokyo?'
His musings were soon answered by a light pat on his shoulder, along with "Nufufufu, what are you doing, sitting here by yourself, Tsunayoshi?"
He froze. He didn't need to look up to see the face of the man who called out to him. He knew it too well. It was a voice long buried in his past, but he couldn't forget it. Not with his recurring dreams. Or nightmares, if you may. 'A voice similar to one of my mist guardians..'
When he finally looked up, all his doubts (there was a minuscule one since he didn't want to believe) were eradicated by the blue melon-styled hair and a smirk that made him want to X-burner everyone he sees due to a similarity to a certain pineapple-haired guardian who left nothing but destruction on his wake and one of the avid contributors of the fireproof paper works. "Daemon… Spade."
The newly introduced man blinked at the brunette's attempt of saying his name without spitting harshly to the ground, and mirthfully chuckled afterwards, "Oh no, what are you saying Tsunayoshi? To think that you have dropped the 'Daemon-nii-san' that you usually address me with."
Tsuna had many options; he could laugh in hysteria at the absurdity of it all or maybe punch the man before him because, really, 'Daemon-nii-san' what the fuck? Okay, he admits that he held a teeny-tiny bit of grudge towards Daemon because the man had hurt his family and friends, but he respected him for his undying love towards the Vongola and for his deceased beloved, Elena. But this.
The mafia boss groaned inwardly.
He then rubbed his temples and offered the man before him a smile—which caught Daemon off guard—and then apologetically waved a hand, "I'm sorry Daemon-nii-san. I think the heat is getting into my head, and making me woozy."
A flash of understanding crossed Daemon's expression, as he then settled with his usual creepy smirk, "Indeed, it may have been. You're acting quite… off."
"Off? In what manner?" The brunette stood from the bench gracefully, which went unmissed by the older of the two.
"That manner." Daemon implied, folding his arms, and if Tsuna and his intuition had been any accurate, the other male was suspicious at him by now.
'Damn that Byakuran. Not even giving me a general knowledge about how the other me acted in this world.' Tsuna managed to control himself from just flying away from the scene, and despite of the string of curses in different languages that inhabited his mind, he somehow also managed to keep his composure, "It's the heat." He insisted, and the other seemed to not quite accept the answer.
"Oh my god, is it me, or is that—"
"It's—Oh god, It's Daemon Spade-sama from the hot group 「PRIMO」 that hit the charts with their song 'Famiglia' this week!"
All the people's attention on that buzzing city was probably directed at them both, and Tsuna could see how the other's smile had slightly fallen off its place, and instead replaced by a forced one. But he cares less about that, because as of now, most of the mafia don's attention was directed at the fact that Daemon Spade is in a group called 'Primo' —to which he had this gut feeling that it's composed of seven members and that all of them are very much familiar to him—and they sing and What the holy mother of god, Byakuran! What. The. Fuck.
"Nufu, I hate to say this, but we have to run, my dear Tsunayoshi, or we won't be seeing the light of tomorrow." Daemon informed, albeit his pitch steadily rising and heartbeat erratic. The brunette nodded stiffly. He had to agree with that one.
They ran.
They ran for their lives, and Tsuna noticed immediately that Daemon runs averagely, and he had to keep his pace down or the poor man will get left behind. 'It's like he has no idea how to use illusions. Is he even an illusionist in this world?'
It took them an hour. An hour of nothing but running, and Tsuna swears to all gods present out there that he didn't care anymore if Daemon would know that he was not the same Tsuna, since he could just lift the melon-haired man and run 100 km/s. Fortunately, he didn't, since after minutes of patience, they started to lose the crowd of raged fans, and completely lost them when they turned towards an alley.
"I'm sorry—huff—Tsunayoshi, for dragging you to that mess." The melon-head panted heavily and Tsuna was afraid that if he furthermore speaks, he will Zero Point Breakthrough: First Edition his mouth to shut him up.
"No. It's fine. Just don't speak anymore and try to catch your breath." Tsuna replies, pitying the man's unsightly state.
When Daemon had fully regained his breathing pattern, he eyed Tsuna curiously, "So why is it that you told no one about your running capabilities? A hundred meter track is already too much for you but an hour and kilometers isn't. If I'm convinced enough, I'd think that you were fooling all of us."
"It's… adrenaline rush." He shut his lips afterwards, his mind going haywire with self-reprimanding, and what a stupid excuse and No, you idiot, he won't buy that!
There was a pregnant silence that coated them afterwards. And Daemon cleared his throat, "It makes sense. Anyway, why are you dressed like you're going to a millionaire's party? You usually liked comfortable clothes and barely left your house at all."
"Err—I just want to… try it out? I guess it's weird, huh?" That's it. Sawada Tsunayoshi cannot produce a professional lie at the face of a primo guardian that he respected.
"It's not weird. Just unusual. I see you everyday wearing those… flamboyant clothes, and then I suddenly see you wearing a suit. I'm just not used."
The brunette almost spluttered at the other's wording (Note: Almost). 'Flamboyant. What.'
"I guess? I just want a change of mood, that's all. And a suit is flamboyant in its own way!"
The melon-head seemed to contemplate over something for a bit before his facial expression softened, "Shall I accompany you back to your home?"
"O-oh, really? You'll do that?" Tsuna accidentally stuttered out, and he was secretly dying in shame.
"Nufufufu, Of course, I will. Anything for you, my dear Tsunayoshi." With his offer, the two went off to the house of the Tsuna of that world. It took them two and a half hours to get to the said house despite it being four kilometers away, though, because of unavoidable circumstances.
When they actually got there, Tsuna was a bit surprised to find a mansion for a house, 'I thought maman liked it tight yet cozy? I can't imagine her agreeing to live in a house like this. But I guess, The Sawada Nana of this world isn't my maman at all.
He entered the house, with Daemon in tow. Breathing a shallow, "I'm home." Because really, it wasn't his home. It's the other Tsuna's. 'Now that you mention it, where is the me on this world if I'm here then?'
It was unfamiliar, he noted. He felt sort of… alienated. People would expect that he would know the house inside-out since he lived in it, but he doesn't. Well, of course he won't. He's basically a complete stranger with the face of the Sawada Tsunayoshi of that world.
A loud crash could be heard upstairs and a man with spiky blond hair dived out of a room and came stumbling down the stairs. The brunette was so alarmed and surprised that he found himself standing so still he could pass off as a twig. 'I had my presumptions but to think—'
The blonde's figure slowly collected himself up, dusting himself from the dirt of the floor. He was wearing a jersey. A jersey, of all things. Let's just say that Tsuna's image of his great-great-great grandfather is ruined by now. Primo. In a jersey. 'Good Lord, Byakuran. If I find something more outrageous than this, forget punching, I'd skin you alive.'
"Tsuna!" The blonde's pair of amber eyes sparkled, as he looked at him like a boy who had gotten a present from Santa Clause. Primo—Er, Giotto, immediately locked the younger in a tight hug and Tsuna could barely notice how his lungs had collapsed. He wouldn't be surprised if he would suddenly froth to death at the moment.
"Giotto, you idiot! Give your younger brother—I mean, younger sister room to breathe! You're gonna kill him—uh, her!" A man with red-hair tried to pull at the blonde's persistent arm with the hopes of saving the younger of the two who were engaged in a deep sibling act. Or rather, one-sidedly engaged in a deep sibling act.
The words of the man—Tsuna was sure was Giotto's right hand man, G.—clearly rang in the brunette's ears. 'Is it me or is he misgendering me on purpose…?'
Tsuna had been removed from the blonde's clutches with the help of G., Asari Ugetsu who G. asked to help or else, Lampo who was bribed that he could get a day off at practice if he assisted. The others—Daemon, who was viewing the situation as something to be delightful of, and Knuckle, who started praying for Tsuna's soul. Alaude was nowhere to be seen. Not that Tsuna was expecting him, since Alaude was so alike with his own cloud guardian.
When the brunette was free to suck as much air as he pleases, the others were either scolding Giotto for his behavior, or in G.'s case, beating the living shit out of him. It had gotten to the point that Tsuna had the need to intervene unless he wanted an impromptu funeral of his supposed brother(?) whom will be killed by none other than his best friend. Byakuran had given him enough crap to handle; he doesn't think he can stay rational with anything more unimaginable shit thrown in the fray. "You will kill him, G-san."
Everything paused, all eyes trained on Tsuna. The brunette, feeling fidgety at the intense gaze, could do nothing but raise a questioning brow.
"Is it me or is Tsuna wearing a suit –degozaru?" It was Asari Ugetsu who had first spoken and had broken the silence.
"That's strange, you usually call G. 'G-nii-san' instead of 'G-san'. " Knuckle asked, or more like, wondered aloud, a hand situated on his chin.
A loud laugh then erupted, and all can guess that it was obviously Lampo, who was by now sprawled out indignantly on the ground, slapping the floor with a hand to somehow ease his laughter. "G-san? More like Jii-san! Aren't you glad, G? You sound like an old man now!"
A tick mark appeared on G.'s forehead, as he let go of Giotto and changed his target to Lampo, raising him by a fistful of the fabric under the chin, "Laugh again you brat and I'll send you to river styx in an instant."
That did lessen Lampo's laugh but it wasn't non-existent.
"Tsuna, have you grown taller?" Giotto queried, his palms landing itself on Tsuna's cheeks, "That's strange, your baby fats are gone!"
The mafia don could only gulp hard. This was tricky. If Giotto possessed even a bit of his abnormal intuition, he would be able to catch him lie his way through. "It's—It's the sun. Maybe the heat vaporized my baby fats? And it's just in your imagination that I've grown taller. I've always been… tall."
"Oh! I guess it is!" Giotto beamed at him—all with wide eyes and huge smile and Tsuna wanted to punch him on the stomach because at least be suspicious like Daemon. Truthfully, he was glad that Giotto didn't question him furthermore, but still. If he sees through enough, he would know that he was a complete stranger. With or without lollipops, you shouldn't believe strangers.
"I'm a bit lightheaded. Can you, er, accompany me to my room?" Tsuna dared. Really, he wants to go to the room of this world's Tsuna and bury himself on the pillows and the mattress and just hope that he never wakes up.
"Me! I'll do—" Giotto raised his hand but was abruptly cut off by G, who was still scowling as he had been the whole time, " Don't 'Me!' me! Your dance is still off and you're the goddamn leader! Properly do your role as one, you dumbass!"
"What but—Hey wait, NOOOOOOOOO!" G dragged the poor blonde, as the latter clawed at the tiles of the floor in a failing attempt to stop himself from being dragged.
"I would love to but I still have a job to do. Forgive me, dear Tsunayoshi." Mukuro knelt and kissed the back of the brunette's hand, before mocking a bow, and skipped away. 'Oh god. Dear god. Did he just—'
"Lampo, you still have to practice your voice." Knuckle interjected when he saw that Lampo was trying to make Tsuna's matter as an excuse to escape. The priest—or not a priest anymore, nodded at Asari, and the latter seemed to have understood his silent request.
"Well then, Tsunayoshi-kun. I shall take you to your bedroom-degozaru." Asari smiled at him and extended a hand.
The brunette blankly looked at the open palm. 'Huh. What. Why is he extending his hand? Am I supposed to do a low-five and clap his hand or something?'
Asari blinked once, then twice, before retracting his hand before laughing in a rather apologetic manner, "Sorry, sorry! Usually, when you're weak, you liked us to hold your hand just like a gentle prince and a fragile princess-degozaru! Can you walk by yourself?"
Tsuna slowly nodded his head. 'G.'s misgendering earlier, the flamboyant clothes that Daemon mentioned, and now this. Please don't tell me that I'm right. For once, intuition, do me a favor.'
They quickly took off and arrived towards a room with plain white and huge door, "We're here –degozaru! Are you going to be alright by yourself? Do you want me to stay by your side-degozaru?"
'What is this feeling of being doted, and being treated to be utterly helpless?' Tsuna shook his head, "No, I just want to sleep today, Asari-nii-san."
"Oh. Oh, okay then! I hope for you to have sweet dreams-degozaru!" Asari grinned at him and saw him enter the room and shut it, slowly as if reluctant. When he heard the distant click of the room beyond, his grin faded, and was replaced by a serious look. 'Perhaps he's having a bad headache?' He then walked away, failing to hear the muffled scream coming from the said room.
Sawada Tsunayoshi looked at the heavily coated pink room. There was pink everywhere. And stuffed toys. Holy gods, even Kyoko and Haru's room couldn't compare to this. The brunette trudged towards the end of the king-sized bed, grabbed a pink pillow, and screamed.
Yes, he screamed. No, it wasn't a girly shriek. It was a manly scream.
After screaming, he paced to and fro in the room, tapping a finger against his elbow as his arms were crossed. After a few rounds, he stopped and looked at the walk-in closet in horror. He could already guess what's inside the walk-in closet. But still.
He pursed his lips and headed towards the walk-in closet, and with slightly trembling hands, seemingly plucked out the door from its hinges because of the force he applied.
'Dear mother of—'
He closed the closet as if it had never been opened. He pushed the handles back and hung his head in defeat. And downright embarrassment. His face was now flushed red – Redder than G's hair—as he tried to brainwash himself that No, he saw nothing.
He slid from the door of the closet, until he was sitting on the floor—closing his eyes to try to regain his sanity. Which reminds him of Byakuran's words 'bored out of your sanity'.
"Unfortunately, sanity is thrown out of the proverbial window with all this mess." The brunette silently spoke to himself, orange hues looking at the photos at the left side of the wall. He could only snort, but strangely, not in disgust.
He combed his hair with his hands, squinting at the photos. It was this world's Tsuna with his… her friends. The only thing prominent from the photos was that he was wearing flamboyant clothes, as Daemon had so gladly worded it.
It was lacy, and full of fabric, and… well, a dress. Tsuna of that world was wearing female clothes.
"Byakuran you shit, the moment I come back from here, I'm gonna burn all the marshmallow factories that I find to the ground."
Note 4: *ESCAPES*