All in Spades
Child!Fem!27 x Parental! Daemon Spade 1st Vongola Mist Guardian
AN: This has been a bunny in my head for a long time and finally, I decided to give it a shot. And I love Daemon Spade, even though he was such a bad guy, he just misunderstood everything, and well, okay, yeah he went totally insane and such, but anyways! And I absolutely love Child!27 male or female; Tsuna's that cute!
This story is "un-beta"; so there may be some grammar errors and redundancy, since its been years since I decided to give fanfiction a shot- again, and updates will depend on how "life" will flow. There will words in different languages such as "Filipino", since its my mother tongue, and "English" being my secondary, and there will be others such as "Italian", "French" etc. but mostly used for dialogues and titles.
The words or dialogues in foreign languages with its translation will at the end of every chapter.
With everything else said….
Enjoy and review!
CHAPTER 0: *Pagsaluno nang Hamog at Munting Langit
It was already dark, with clouds looming, lightning cackling, and harsh winds blowing. It was raining hard to, but he doesn't mind; since, after all, he was technically dead and has been roaming around the living planes for centuries. And what he meant by technically is that because he somehow now have a warm body and a beating heart. But none of it matters at the moment, all that matters to him is this little angel he has wrapped in his arms.
The little angel sniffled and whimpered, ever so lightly that if he wasn't a trained mafiosco, and a guardian in fact, he wouldn't hear it. And as his response, he tightens his hold, but to not to tight, just enough to reassure the fragile child in his arms that everything will be alright.
*"Ssshh ... tutto andrà bene."
Slowly big glassy orbs of molten chocolate eyes slowly revealed itself from its fluffy curtain of hair, and he felt his now beating heart skip a beat with the sight before him. Her eyes, it was so clear. It was so reflective of what feelings she feels. He can see every emotion. Fear, sorrow, betrayal, hurt. The little bundle was still shaking from what just occurred a few moments ago. But what really got his (supposedly not beating, mind you) heart thumping is the burning reflected in the child's eyes. It is what he missed so much- no, not just missed- but what he craved so much. It been so long since he was directed with such emotions.
Gratitude.
Acceptance.
LOVE.
And from that day on. He swore, that this time, he would not make the same mistake. This time he will be there when he is needed the most. This time…
He will definitely do it with his dying will.
He smiled at that thought of his. Dying will, how very ironic.
The pitter-patter of the rain and soft whimpering of the *munting bata slowly lulled his mind. It brought back the memories of how did he came to this predicament. And he couldn't help but chuckle humorlessly but at the same time fondly while remembering.
It was all like a reoccurring dream; no, wait, it was not just a dream. Dreams usually are the reflections of what we want to see or happen, it maybe twisted or exaggerated, but it really depends on the mentality of the dreamer though. His can't even be compared to a nightmare, and he prides himself in being the bringer and creator of such. This was worse; it was up close and personal to the burning flames of the deepest parts of hell. And damn it, he was supposed to be the escort of his victims, not the one to be the seeing it! Okay. Maybe he did deserve it, he was and still is a sadist after all, but who was the affected of the onslaught, is his horrors personified. And he was utterly crushed.
"ELENA!"
His *mi amour. Here in his arms, tears falling, limp and rapidly loosing life. Her once beautiful dress stained with blood and burns. Her delicately styled hair sprawled and mixed with earth on the ground. Her eyes shinning, now, so dull. And here he is holding her and begging her to please, please stay. But he knew how cruel the world they walked in really is.
"P-pro-tect…st-rong-g…..V-vo-on-gola….I-i kn-ow, t-tha..if…i-its you..do..i-t.."
Those were her broken and final words to him. It utterly destroyed him. At first he wanted to scream and blame everything at his failure to straighten Primo's way of thinking. He visualized of wanting to recreate Vongola, so that anyone who hears his and Elena's famiglia will tremble, it will rain blood; but then something clicked in his mind.
Elena didn't want that.
He was foolish to even think of such idea, making what he and Elena loved stained in red. Heck, Primo would most likely cry a river of tears if his vigilante group becomes a terror at very mention of its name and its ordeals twisted to something unrecognizable.
Primo.
Giotto.
He won't admit it, even if he were to be humiliated in the worst possible ways known to mankind. But he loved Giotto. Not in a romantic sense mind you, for he loved Elena in that sense, and he will be, surely without a doubt, a gutted pig if he were to show romantic feelings to others, because for all of his Elena's kindness, she's a very loving woman, ahem, possessive and quite a sadist he may as well add. He remembers quite clearly how they met, and it was through Elena and that ball. He recalls during that gathering how women would flock to him and him being gentleman he is, was forced to dance with these women for his family's status' sake. He loathes this standing, one of the common things he and Elena has, that made them an inseparable pair; and he nearly stabbed himself with the fork with when one of these banshees declared of her wanting to bed him. And during this musings of his, he heard a loud snap. It wasn't a snap of something tangible, more like the release of pent up emotions flowing with rapid and deadly currents. And thus, the chills coming down his spine vigorously. When he turned to the source on his sudden fright, there he saw his love, wearing a simple but elegant dress that made her more stunning, but in his opinion, she's always the most beautiful woman in his eyes. But what made him shiver was the absolute look of murder in her eyes despite the smile she was adorning.
After his meetings, if you could call it like that. He went to get refreshments; he was feeling darn dry in his throat, speaking with those squabbling harpies was really a pain. He ravished the rest he was given before he turned to find Elena since he hasn't seen her after getting a glimpse of the death in her eyes, but instead Elena was there behind him smiling like an innocent child with the sweetest candy. That made him almost wet his pants then and there, for the smile she was adorning, even, oozing with innocence was sharp and frightening. He gulped, as if he hasn't drank in years even when he just replenished himself.
Damn it. She heard, didn't she?
He thought as felt her delicate hands gripped him.
"Let's dance shall we, my dear sir?"
It wasn't a request; it was more of a command. It was scary as it was gob striking.
And so they danced. But in between the dips and twirls, were painful heels burying in his feet, nearly fractured beyond repair bones in his hands, sadistic glees and traumatizing depiction of her vocal affection- more like torture. Now you know were his ideas of gruesome mental scaring came from. And you call him insane, try his lover, you'll get where his coming from.
Oh! The wonders and woes of being a match made in heaven!
As the final tune of the instrument strung, the agonizing tor-dance finally ended. The pair slowly walked through the glass-tinted doors of the terrace, or in Daemon's case limped beside Elena.
And through those doors did he meet someone, other than his beloved Elena, which he will swore his loyalty and unending kinship to. Giotto. A man who founded a vigilante group to protect the ones in need and to do what is fair and just. When there eyes connected, sunset hues meeting cool blue, he knew that this man will be someone he will also treasure just as much as he treasures Elena. Thus introductions came and go, and they began their bond as they shook hands, with Elena as witness to both the meeting and bonding of the *cieli and *nebbia.
It was a once in lifetime meeting, and he thanks Elena for this.
Thank you so, so much.
His meeting with Giotto, his now dubbed, sky was truly a blessing. And through him, he met people who; he won't admit till he's six feet under, he called his friends. Family. The unyielding storm, right-hand man and short-tempered G, who he likes to call the 'loyal dog' of Giotto. The musician Asari Ugetsu, who's of Japanese origin with the presence similar to rain, always tries to diffuse any tension within the group with calmness. The ever bright sun Knuckle who never forgets to preach the teachings of the church with extremeness. The youngest and laziest, pampered brat he has ever known, dubbed as the lightning of the group, Lampo. And lastly, his ever favorite to tease, and the so called lone wolf; the cloud, Alaude. A unique set of individuals that he teases, torments, argues; people who he bonded with that expanded his views and ideals. It was Vongola.
Fast forward in a few years later. Vongola became a renowned group throughout their city. Doing what is good, preventing what could be prevented and protecting the innocent. And through those years, his bonds became irreplaceable pieces of his very being. Especially with Elena and Giotto. With Elena being his other half and weaver of bonds; he can't help but worship her sometimes for it was through her that he became part of Vongola. And Giotto for being his sky; accepting his flaws and sadism, and all that jazz. For smiling, thanking him with so much gratitude and showing him familial affection that he never once experienced. And for being his little brother, even though they were the same age; for Giotto views the world with optimism akin to child's that has proven him of being an effective leader. Giotto's not blind of how sadistic the world is to its inhabitants, much as to how fate is a bitch. But that didn't stop his Primo for pushing forward; making him prideful on what his little brother's accomplishments. And for that, he will follow him, and be the mist that will shroud the sky and constructing from nothing to making it a reality.
Vongola arose to power and gained the recognition they truly deserved, but as their fame rose, so did their enemies, the mafia.
Mafia was infamous in Italy after all. And with Vongola rising, so did the feeling of threat within the mafia. Enemies, after enemies came and go, but Vongola stood tall against it all and as a witness and partaker, he can say that it was not the best of all experiences he has partook, but non the less satisfying knowing that he was not alone, and that he has a family he can come back to. It was going so well, but then a sudden shift occurred.
With Vongola in power, Giotto wanted to disband the military forces they gained through all their successful works, for he felt that it wasn't right. It baffled him to say at least, for removing one of their strongest assets will leave them out in the open, making them a perfect target. With this issue of theirs, did there first and last fight occurred. Sure they argued then and there, but fight? Sure they did, but really fight, no. Hurtful words were exchange and with Giotto completely forgoing on what he initially planned.
And so, the disbanding of the military force came to be, as well as the ambush that completely severed one of his bonds with Vongola.
So here he is, within the burning mansion with Elena dead in his arms, and with eyes wide open as he pieced together the intentions and wishes of both his love and Giotto.
After the tragedy, more unfortunate things happened. With Giotto stepping down as the leader of Vongola and disappearing as well as the other guardians, leaving Ricardo, Giotto's cousin taking up the mantle. But unlike the rest, he stayed and became the mist of the second generation, for he has a promise to keep, not just his promise to Elena, but also to Giotto; for he knew that he wronged him that night they fought, accusing him of being a lesser leader, where in fact, he was the perfect boss anyone would be loyal to, and wanted to apologize even if its not face to face, but through making Vongola flourish as before.
A few years later, he was killed during a raid. He didn't know how it happened really, one second he was swinging his scythe, and the next thing he knows he down, drowning in his own blood. He felt ashamed for he knew that he hasn't brought Vongola to its forming standing as before and relieved, for he knew that the second generation is there to carry Vongola back to its former roots. Slowly he closed his eyes waiting for the grim reaper to let him meet with Elena, or the others.
Is this heaven? Or hell?
It was what he first thought as he was greeted by a dark sky with no stars. He was confused to say at least, he then slowly sat up and examined his surroundings. He was in the forest. More specifically, the forest where he was killed; for he will recognize that twisted looking tree anywhere. But what shocked him the most is that his hands, no, not just his hands but his entire body was transparent. Then he cursed in multiple languages.
Why?! Why?! God f*ckin' damn it, WHY?!
Of all the things he knew about the supernatural, this has got to be the most irritating position to be in, or in his case be one. He became a ghost, and not just any ghost, oh no, he's a poltergeist. Poltergeists are the types of ghost who are often known for being supposedly responsible for physical disturbances such as loud noises and objects thrown around due to their overflowing energy. And him being a mist attributed one was disastrous. After all mists were known for there supernatural affinity. On the good note he could torment others that bother him, lucky him!
But a thought suddenly came into mind. Vongola.
And with new renowned vigor, he dispersed into his element to see how Vongola came to be to this day. Clearly forgetting the fact that he is now dead, and a poltergeist at that. And thus, a ghost roaming around wondering what has change and hoping that his treasured famiglia is still there, standing tall and firm.
During his sight seeing, he came to know that 3 years has passed and that the Vongola he loved so, much to his horror, became a known mafia famiglia. Apparently after his death, Vongola did attain its former power, but the reign of the second generation turned it into what the previous upholders have been fighting off, to be one of it. And it saddens him to his very core. When he visited the main headquarters, he saw first hand how the *Secondo signed an alliance with their former enemies. It hurt just being there, and so he fled, with all of the windows within the mansion shattering, reflecting what emotion was running through him.
Immense guilt is all what he's been feeling. He failed to keep his promise and all he wanted was to disappear completely. He can't stand it! Why is he even a poltergeist? Was it his punishment from before? And added to the fact that he failed to kept his promise, and the vigilante group that he and his lover kept within their hearts became the very enemy they were fighting; wasn't it enough? It shattered him; not even knowing that his powers were causing quite a ruckus for all he knows is that he is a total failure for failing twice.
He wondered, traveled and wallowed in his depression for years, he completely let time passed by and he didn't care. Four centuries passed, with him utterly severing everything he knew about Vongola, and him just a wondering like every ghost should be. And during his depression did he come to realize that he has somehow traveled to Japan, Asari's home as he remembers. It was midnight in a forest, and it was raining pink.
Cherry blossoms.
He recalls Asari's story about these flowers and how pretty they were as they are delicate, and he can agree with the swordsman that they were a stunning sight. He sighed, and finally, after all this years, allowed a small smile grace his lips, forgetting his depression, even just for a moment, and just basking in the view before him. When suddenly he felt a burst of energy, more specifically a burst of dying will flames that are so familiar, sky flames.
Giotto?! But-!
He quickly followed the source of the small but strong flow of flames into a building, specifically a hospital. He phased through many walls just so he could find that source, and when he finally did, he was inside a room where they're reside a man and a woman with a little girl at least 2 years of age, crying due to an injury on her wrist, and judging from afar it she sprained it. But what made him gaping like a fish out of water is because the child looked like an exact replica of his former sky. The flames he have been drawn to were coming from the that little girl crying in her mother's arms and with the latter trying to cheer her up, while her father was trying to make the child look in his way to see the faces he was making. A normal family sight to others that is, but to him its more colorful, for he can see the flames within this people; an ability he gained through many of his battles, that proved to be useful when assessing the enemy.
He saw a vibrant orange from the father, meaning that the man was a sky, and a soft baby blue, showing him that the woman was a rain. The child must have inherited the flame type of her father. But the purity and intensity of the child's flame was truly astounding! It was almost if not, more pure than his sky's!
He recalls that out of all the elements, skies were the most rare, and often when a any from the other elements encounter a sky for the very first time, the wielder will immediately seek out that sky, latching to it to become whole. For skies, are said to be the balance that most elements seek. The ever ranging storm; the constant pouring rain; the shining sun; the cackling lightning; the shifting mist and the soaring cloud, all these elements seek that balance that only a sky wielder will be able to provide. Often times, finding a sky was similar to finding a needle in haystack, the down part of sky flame wielders. And possessors of powerful flame elements, without a sky to balance them out, will be trouble due to the feeling of imbalance.
Thank the heavens for Elena! Without her leading him to Giotto, he will be considered as one of those imbalance elements that will forever seek a sky's presence.
During his musings, he felt eyes on him, and what he saw took his breathe away. A pair of eyes, full of innocence and wonder, full of warmth; he didn't even muse on how the child can see him, but instantly, he felt a connection that he never thought he will experience again.
A smile unconsciously crawled on his lips.
The encounter he experienced at the hospital was so ethereal that he couldn't help but dote on the little girl from then on. He followed her, watching and enjoying the presence he feels around the child. He often finds the child looking at his direction when he comes by, and he couldn't help but garnish all the attention she gives him, even though she's the only one who sees him, it was enough. His starved heart slowly filling.
There was one encounter though, that made him star struck; stiff in surprise; and utterly speechless.
It was like every time he watches over her. She was in her playpen; (inventions these days are truly amazing, he thought), sitting and pointing at some of the colorful illusions he was making. Her parents were downstairs doing what all parents do, when she suddenly pointed her finger at him and said her first word.
"Papa!"
That was first time, in very long time, did he shed tears; not of loneliness but unparalleled happiness.
Fast forward into a few years; his happiness was suddenly replaced with something he never wanted to feel ever again….
Fear.
Words/dialogue translations:
*Pagsaluno nang Hamog at Munting Langit(Filipino): The Meeting of the Mist and the Little Sky
*"Ssshh ... tutto andrà bene." (Italian): "Ssshh...everything will be fine."
*munting bata (Filipino): little/ small child
*mi amour (French): my love
*cielo (Italian): sky
*nebbia (Italian):mist