Apathy
Tsuna had learned to play the game, so he had grown used to wearing the veneer of apathy— a far cry from his early teen years when he could afford to run around like a chicken whose lost its head. At meetings like these, Reborn had drilled into his essence that any unintended emotions were a weakness— a chink in his proverbial armour.
Neither of these bosses were his allies. If they were, Tsuna could afford to be an inch more friendly and an inch less aloof. As they weren't, he could not let them know what he was thinking. He had to be utterly unreadable; something unattainable for all but his family.
(The Vongola Decimo was rumoured to be something of an enigma.)
Reborn had told him that being the Don of Dons meant he had to stay indifferent and impartial. He had to act like he was above it all.
Tens of miles in the sky. A birds eye view of the world. Detached.
Still, whenever a meeting ended successfully (meaning no one had died or given him too much paperwork), he couldn't help but smile when shaking the other Dons' hands, completely overwhelming them with a dose of his flames.
It was accidental, of course.
That didn't stop his guardians from shaking their hands at the enamoured look former enemies or neutrals would from then on have whenever interacting with their boss.
Tsuna had learned to play the game, so he knew how to navigate through the complicated political machinations of the Upper Echelons. His Hyper Intuition was a much-needed advantage to observe the webs of flattery and deceit that he had somehow gotten tangled up in.
As he had grown, his flames had only increased in power and purity. Most of the time, when he could afford to, he allowed his sky flames to radiate off him. To intermingle with the flames of his family and exchange, tightening their already close-knit bonds.
When he couldn't, he relied on the training Lal had beaten into him. Training to focus and concentrate his flames when in combat. Training to hide and bottle up his flames to avoid being detected. Training to bind and release his flames around his famiglia and family.
When in sticky situations, the aura of his orange fire itself set Dons in line and made them a little more compromising— a little more compliant. Tsuna wasn't quite sure how it worked. When he was younger, he was sure no boss would take a scrawny midget of a child seriously (heck, he didn't even take himself seriously), but when he had walked into his first meeting at 14, his irises bleeding amber, emanating powerful flames, no one had said a word.
Of course, his first meeting was with the allies, so even if they had protests, they wouldn't have said it to his face. But as his interactions spread beyond the allies of the Vongola, it became apparent that his flames itself was enough to quell most doubts of the future reign, only reassured by his business acumen and charisma.
Dino had once called his flames addictive. Not to family and friends, who were constantly exposed, but to others who hadn't developed a tolerance. -(Not that his family and friends had developed a tolerance. They were just more used to dealing with him.)-
Naito had once joked that if it was possible to bottle up and sell Tsuna's flames, they would make a killing. Needless to say, Tsuna had ignored Longchamp for two weeks until the boy finally was forced to use the desolation bullet for Tsuna to forgive him.
To Tsuna, it wasn't his fire that was mesmerizing, but his family's.
They were an intimate, interconnected network of fire and love, each supporting each other through the flame exchanges they made with one another almost unconsciously.
His flames surged through Chrome, smoothing and fortifying the complex illusions that held her fragile, yet tenacious body together.
They resonated through Hayato, soothing away the doubts and misgivings that came part and parcel with being his right-hand man.
They whirled through Takeshi, relaxing and energizing his left-hand man and maybe washing away his worries for a change.
They pounded through Ryohei, calming his most spirited guardian and reminding him to take the time to breathe.
They drummed through Lambo, reassuring his little brother of his infinite affection and love.
They pulsated through Kyoya, gently reminding his most aloof guardian that he had a home to return to.
They thrummed through Mukuro, constantly proving to the bluenette that he wasn't alone anymore and that he had a sky that couldn't be taken away from him (even if he never said it, Tsuna inherently knew).
Tsuna had learned to play the game— but there was nothing he loved more than losing his stoicism, letting his sunset eyes fade back to their usual coffee brown, and releasing the suppressed orange fire that sang in comfort when he was home.
A/N:
Hello, everyone! Mmrose9 here.
I hope you all enjoyed... I'll admit, this drabble did run a little away from me... (-:
Please let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! That honour belongs to the lovely Akira Amano.
Umm, bye!