A short and meaningless one-shot.
Present:
Mochia hears a loud crash behind him and instinctively turns around. He sees a big purple item flying towards and hurried to jump out of the way, cursing loudly at Dame-Tsuna who is surely the cause behind this. Of course, the bazooka just so happens to ricochet off the wall.
Poof.
Mochida looked around at his surroundings after the pink smoke dispersed. He recognizes his bedroom with a few new additions. On his wall hangs real katanas. When he unsheaths them, he sees a sharp silver edge unlike those of the bamboo swords which lay below the katana rack. Mochida stares at it fascinated wondering how he ever managed to get so many good quality and obviously expensive swords.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something strange on his desk. It looks like a dissembled gun. Mochida picked up the part that looked like the handle. On it, he sees a strange emblem of a clam with two guns crossing. He could have sworn that—
Poof.
Once again, he was in that pink smoke. He waves it away, coughing, and sees Dame-Tsuna and his equally useless friends.
"That was your fault, wasn't it Dame-Tsuna?" Mochida asked, sneering. "What was that? You should know exactly what I'm talking about."
Seeing Tsuna's frozen expression and his pet's increasingly darkening face, Mochida decided it wasn't worth the effort. He sighed and just walked about. He didn't need another round of embarrassment from the so-called useless teen. Mochida would never admit that the match had a big impact on him nor that it made him admire the brown-haired teen. It would a secret he brought to his grace.
Future:
Mochida once again looks at the dissembled gun in front of him. He sighs in frustration and decides to take a break. He flopped onto his bed and grumbled.
Mochida is an expert of swordplay. He is an expert on swordplay, not bombs, not whips, not hand-to-hand combat, and definitely not guns. He just didn't understand why they would send him a gun and tell him to fix it. They could have asked some technician instead. Mochida supposed this was revenge from the silver-haired bomber that was the right-hand man of his boss. Maybe he shouldn't replaced the bomber's shampoo with that special brand after all.
Suddenly... poof.
Mochida has seen this happen a multitude of times beforehand. The Vongola Lightning Guardian always seemed to be disappearing into these kind of clouds. However, Mochida can't recall any personal experience of this. Despite himself, he felt a twinge of curiosity and excitement.
When the pink smoke finally fades away, Mochida sees the teenage versions of the top echelon of Vongola. Or rather, he sees the Vongola Decimo trying to stop the Storm Guardian from murdering the Lightning Guardian while the Rain Guardian just laughs along on the sidelines. Mochida takes this all in stride. This was just another normal day in the lives of the Decimo and his Guardians.
"Hey," Mochida calls out. The Decimo promptly straightens in tension and glances at him. "How long will this last? Five minutes, correct?"
The Decimo's eyes seems to light up in surprise for moment before fading away.
"Mochida-senpai," The Decimo starts. It's strange, Mochida thinks, to be addressed with this type of tone from his boss. The past is so nostalgic. "You aren't surprised? I expected you to start yelling at me the moment you saw me."
Mochida sighs. How would he explain without giving his position away? "Things change, Sawada. It's been ten years. You would expect even me to mature, right?" The two stare at each other for a moment, one in surprise and the other in acknowledgement.
"Yes," the Decimo finally says. "This only lasts five minutes. You'll be leaving right about...
Poof.
"...now."
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