A/N: Welcome to the fifth chapter of Casalinga! It's been some time, I know, but I'm determined to train myself to write more, so this chapter happened. Thank my teachers. They drive so much analytical thinking into me that my brain literally begs me to write stories.
And. What. The. Frick. Guys. A hundred reviews. Three-hundred follows. Almost-three-hundred favorites. I'm so happy I've forgone typing in all caps. Why am I even wasting space by dilly-dallying? Let's start this chapter! This is more of a filler chapter than anything, but I needed to get this out to get the ball rolling.
Read and enjoy! Please leave a review, and tell me what you think! If any of the characters are acting OOC, please inform me immediately. Same treatment to spelling or grammatical errors. I don't have a beta, sorry.
"None of us knows what might happen even the next minute, yet still we go forward. Because we trust. Because we have Faith."
― Paulo Coelho, Brida
Casalinga
By Freydris
Chapter Five
Reborn
Reborn examined the inside of the Sawada house silently, each detail—every single one, from the pale brown shade of the floor tiles down to how many untouched, hidden compartments the cabinets contained (Iemitsu's paranoia making itself known, no doubt)—memorized flawlessly, perfectly. He would be damned before he let the slightest shift pass by unnoticed, because shift meant change and change not performed by the Sawadas themselves, in turn, meant trouble. Big trouble.
Trouble that the future Tenth Vongola boss could not yet handle.
Clumsy, annoying mafia heirs with monikers that translated to "no-good" aside, he begrudgingly admitted that despite his careful actions, he found himself settling down quite comfortably in the residence; as comfortable and relaxed as the world's strongest hitman could get, anyway. The decent-sized home had only been his base for the past two weeks, yes, but even with only a little of time's assistance, he was drawn into it.
There were several good explanations for this. First and foremost, his mission, his reluctant student, and, if done correctly, then, his future boss (much to his distaste), resided in the building. Reborn never failed a mission. A brat wouldn't ruin his unstained record.
Another curious explanation, for some unknown reason, was the Sawada homemaker's charisma.
Sawada Nana was a brilliant woman. She was naturally suspicious of him at first, true, but a few white lies and she was easily fooled. She struggled to believe, to follow, and to accept his barging in into their lives—something he regretted a little—along with the strange events that followed it. He could see that she trusted her son wholeheartedly, never hesitating to put her confidence in him, a something he found admirable. Admirable, but foolish.
It was to be expected though—she was a civilian, after all, he couldn't fault her for that—so he kept quiet. Iemitsu chose the right woman to bear the First's descendant; she was easy on the eyes, gifting her son a striking resemblance to the great man who began a vigilante group, now one of the world's strongest, most prominent mafia families. He had known the Young Lion of the Vongola to be somewhat of a laid-back, carefree, idiotic man, so he was a bit surprised when he found out Iemitsu smartly settled down with a nice, quiet, gentle woman.
Her cooking skills also compared to nothing. Reborn had a small hope that Tsuna inherited these skills.
Sawada Nana, for the lack of a better word, was perfect.
Perfect was something he did not expect.
Unexpected was not good.
His suspicions were dampened by the flaws she sometimes allowed to slip through her smiling face—her frustration at being kept in the dark with her husband, for one. Emotional hurt was often inflicted by Reborn, it was a vulnerable weakness he cruelly took advantage of, so he could tell genuine anguish when he saw it.
With dry amusement, Reborn briefly wondered how Iemitsu would react if he found out that his sweet, kind, beautiful wife made the most miserable of expressions after their phone conversations. He pictured the look of absolute horror on the blond's face and chuckled to himself darkly, moving on to the living room to perform his usual patrol.
Tiny feet taking him to the spacious area, he contemplated its pristine state (Nana was a clean freak) for a second, sweeping his gaze critically under tables and couches to check. Just in case. Always just in case.
The phone rang, shattering the silence in the house.
Reborn glanced at the land-line sharply but made no move to answer it, discreetly slipping into a tense stance to wait and observe.
Four more shrill rings followed before the phone clicked loudly.
"Hello, you have reached the Sawada residence!" Nana's soft voice greeted gently, the mechanical recording holding no candle to the original woman's kind tone, "No one is around at the moment to answer, so please leave a message after the beep. We will respond as quickly as we can after receiving your message. Sankyu!"
A lone beep followed, and Reborn waited impatiently.
A young tenor flitted through the speakers, the pitch suggesting the identity of a male around the age of fifteen or sixteen, "Nana-oba-san! Good morning!" The unfamiliar voice greeted cheerfully, relaxed and carefree.
The hitman's beady eyes narrowed. Aunt?
Nana had no siblings. She was an only daughter—the product of a loveless marriage, he was sure of, because he had searched her out himself. She had pulled out from high school because of her lack of motivation, her parents having just split up, and had worked in her father's restaurant as a serving waitress.
"We heard about the incident in the market," The caller continued, and for a short moment, Reborn's mind flashed back to that event from four days ago—the disappearance of one of his beetles, Nana almost hurt, the assailant disappearing off the records and the face of earth, things being not quite right, and so so wrong, "-and Dad gave me the stare until I made time to call, so I'm going to ask now, are you okay? We tried to contact the Namimori police to keep that bastard behind bars, but they won't tell us anything."
Alarmed by the sudden information, his eyes narrowed even further. Of course, he had done some snooping of his own, but never outright asked the officers themselves.
"I know it sounds really bad, the new department head, some guy named Toshio Masahiko-" Reborn jolted in recognition and cursed out loud, "-won't allow us to intervene, so it's better that you be careful. Take care. Please visit if you're able. If not, visit anyway. I miss your cooking, oba-san. If Tsuna's listening, hi, squirt!"
The device clicked a hurried finish, and Reborn deleted the message quickly, his mind working fast.
Toshio Masahiko was a name that had drifted past the Vongola headquarters almost eight years ago. The then twenty-six year old man had been obsessed with justice, something the new recruits often made jokes about, but he was rightfully infamous for wiping out century-old yakuza and "purging" most of Japan's "evil", as he coldly declared in one of his rare (and frustratingly short) interviews.
He had made himself known internationally after killing the Beccio famiglia's informants in the Orient, along with a bloody drug-bust that went down as one of the underworld's most terrible accidents. The Beccio famiglia, despite its small influence, was a powerful ally of the Vongola, and the almost murder of their business was no easy feat, and no small issue.
Toshio had disappeared off the radar a few months later, and it was put down that he had been assassinated by a Beccio famiglia ally, in retaliation. He was forgotten.
And now he was alive. And head of the Namimori Police Department. Coincidentally, Tsuna's homeroom teacher shared his name.
Tsuna, who was the Vongola's heir.
He gnashed his teeth together in frustration—how could he have missed that?!—and glared.
The front door clicked open, and he whirled around in surprise, having not heard the tell-tale footsteps of someone approaching. The chestnut wood creaked loudly, carelessly, clumsily, and Nana's voice cut through the stifling silence, "I'm home!"
Nana, who was attacked by a thief detained by the Namimori Police Department, a thief that mysteriously went poof, no mention of punishment, or sentence, or anything at all.
Nana, who was Tsunayoshi's mother. Iemitsu's wife.
Coincidence?
His glare darkened.
No. Not at all.
Tsuna
The Physical Ed. teacher's patience was commendable, Tsuna thought with a sweat-drop, watching in silence beside Gokudera as the short woman gestured for the class to sit on the ground. A couple of girls complained, saying that their shorts would be stained by the cement if they did, but a muttered remark of "noisy" from his silver-haired friend and a flashing smile from Yamamoto had the females eagerly clambering to find the neatest spot.
For a second, the brunette lamented the absence of Sasagawa Kyoko, and by default, her friend Kurokowa Hana. The ginger-haired girl was one of the nice girls of school he actually enjoyed talking to without feeling flustered or insecure at all, with the bonus of Kurokowa's wit and sarcasm, but today she was feeling unwell, so the two had headed for the clinic earlier.
But then again, he also had Gokudera, and the silverette was more than enough.
After finding a spot in the corner, the two settled down and listened half-interestedly as the teacher began listing off the history of baseball, Gokudera absent-mindedly adding in some facts of his own under his breath. Tsuna was especially fascinated observing the older boy tense when he detected something wrong with the lesson. Gokudera was quite the sight when he fought down the urge to correct incorrect information.
Thirty minutes before the bell would ring, signaling the end of today's school hours, the teacher surveyed her bored class and irritably snapped her lesson book shut. Tsuna jolted, recognizing the annoyed glint in the woman's eyes.
"Since all of you are not listening to me at all," The instructor began testily, her tone biting, "I'll assume you already know and understand the lesson. Please bring out a one-fourth piece of paper and a pen, we're having a quiz."
Dismayed cries resonated around the field, but the teacher dutifully ignored the protests as she blankly watched her students scramble for paper.
"Number one..." She began.
"Wait, sensei! Please wait!"
"Who-"
"Senseeei! Please wait!"
"Oi, oi, what's the date?!"
"D-damn, I left my pen! Arashi, let me borrow-"
"Here you go—no, that one doesn't work, get the blue one-the blue one!"
"Can I have a piece of paper?"
"Me too, Rin!"
"Ugh, bring your own paper! I hate you guys so much."
The teacher cleared her throat, "Number one..."
Tsuna gratefully accepted the piece of paper Gokudera had seemingly procured for him out of thin air, whispering his thanks. At the bright smile he was given in response, he smiled back weakly, hiding a sigh as he tried to remember what had been discussed.
"I don't get this." Gokudera mumbled under his breath as he boredly watched his classmates moan and groan, "Why is everyone panicking? It's just a pop quiz."
The brunette beside him sweat-dropped, but said nothing as the teacher began firing question after question.
"Sawada and Yamamoto!" The teacher barked much later, eying the Indian file of students who failed her pop quiz, "You will be in charge of cleaning the lockers."
Tsuna deflated in relief, at least it wasn't the showers... He thought to himself.
"Orokii and Akashi, you will sweep the field-"
Yamamoto popped up beside Tsuna, nudging him on the shoulder, "Let's go, Sawada." The taller boy whispered loudly, adding another tick mark to the many that littered their teacher's forehead, "I have practice I don't want to miss." He explained, shrugging carelessly.
The smaller boy laughed nervously, painfully aware of the smoldering look the teacher was giving the two of them from the corner of her eyes, "R-Right." He agreed readily, furiously nodding his head.
The walk to the locker rooms were silent, until Yamamoto broke it upon reaching the door, "What was your score?" The baseball player asked curiously, his carefree smile splitting into a friendly grin, "Mine was six." He didn't sound too ashamed.
"Five." Tsuna stuttered, glumly noting that the total items of the quiz was fifteen. Reborn was going to kill him. Kill him once for every mistake. Crazily enough, Tsuna was beginning to believe Reborn could kill him ten times. He had already killed Tsuna once, technically. "Sensei s-seemed really cranky, though." He added quietly, twisting the door open and flicking the light switch on.
A single light bulb flickered open, an eerie golden light illuminating the room, and the two examined the gray lockers all arranged symmetrically against the unpainted wall. There were a couple of towels hung haphazardly, but other than that, only a thin layer of dust dirtied the area.
"Hahaha, she must have broken up with another boyfriend!" Yamamoto laughed to break the ice, and strangely enough, it was working. Tsuna cracked out a small laugh despite himself, knowing the stories about the teacher's misfortune when it came to love.
Sharing an amused look with Yamamoto, he shook his head and pulled out a handkerchief, folding it into a triangle and wrapping it around his nose and mouth, "Well, l-let's get to work then!" He started awkwardly, reaching out a scrawny arm to take the nearest feather duster, "You don't w-want to miss practice!"
"Right!" Yamamoto agreed, appearing pleased by the development of their acquaintance. With another smile directed to Tsuna, the taller boy began walking around, pulling out towels from questionable corners and collecting them on an empty basket.
"How the heck did this manage to get in here?" He laughed, bringing out a stained towel from behind the toilet.
Tsuna shrugged uncomfortably but said nothing, eying the brown stains with thinly veiled disgust. He only continued to curiously watch the black-haired boy from his peripheral vision, holding his tongue in check. He had another handkerchief (upon his mother's insistence, he always carried two) in his pocket, but was quite hesitant to offer it to the other boy. Maybe Yamamoto would think he was being too forward...
It wasn't long before the athlete began releasing a string of nasty sneezes.
"Woah." Yamamoto mumbled, rubbing his nose, "This place has been neglected."
He let out another powerful sneeze, covering the lower half of his face.
Tsuna flinched in disgust—bacteria, bacteria everywhere—and gathered his courage, feeling guilty for holding out on his classmate. He put down the feather duster, wiped his palms against the wall with a cringe at the cracking cement, and stalked up towards the sneezing boy. He held up a finger and pulled out his extra handkerchief, "Wash your f-face and p-put this on." He instructed timidly, "Your n-nose is protected this way."
"Learned from experience?" Yamamoto asked faintly, wrinkling his nose in an effort to valiantly fight back a sneeze.
The brunette blandly watched as he failed, flinching when the other sneezed again.
"I'm not questioning your wisdom anymore." The baseball player said in defeat, smiling crookedly as he held out a hand gratefully, "Thanks, Sawada. I..." He trailed off, as if to sneeze, and then continued a beat later, "Huh, owe you—Achoo!"
Tsuna nodded exasperatedly and returned to his work, mutely trying to ignore the trickle of water from the faucet and Yamamoto's relieved sigh that followed a moment later. He only relaxed when the other began to work again, humming a cheerful little tune under his breath.
The silence, while slightly uneasy at first, began to gradually change into something remotely contented, and surprisingly, Tsuna let his guard down, allowing a bit of his cleaning prowess to leak through. Yamamoto said nothing about it, though a few times he laughed quietly while serenely watching Tsuna furiously beat hidden spider webs into submission. Not too long after, they were even acting as if they were friends—as if Tsuna wasn't the school's loser and Yamamoto wasn't the most popular boy in school.
There was a good reason, Tsuna thought with no small amount of awe, why Yamamoto Takeshi was popular. The good-looking boy had charisma, and he had it in spades.
The door slammed open with a loud bang, the sudden noise startling a shout from Tsuna's mouth. "Jyuudaime!" Gokudera shouted at the top of his lungs enthusiastically, jumping into the room like a sugar-fed child, "Let me assist you-" His green eyes fell on Yamamoto, and the enthusiasm abruptly frizzled into thin air, "It's you!"
Yamamoto blinked and used his forefinger to point at himself, "Me?" He echoed, surprised.
Tsuna scooped up the dust he had managed to remove in the small dustpan and emptied it into the trash bin, calming his frantically pounding heart. "Oh, Gokudera-kun! You surprised me!" He greeted, matching his companion's confused look, "Why a-are you here? Did you wait for me?"
The bomber smiled at him ecstatically, "Of course, Jyuudaime!" He chorused with a glittering aura, the fondness in his voice unmistakable.
The sparkling expression did a one-eighty as he resentfully turned to Yamamoto, "Yes, you!" Gokudera snapped angrily, glowering, "You dare push Jyuudaime around, you impudent scu—is that his handkerchief?!"
The dark-haired boy blinked again before nodding slowly, glancing down at the cloth that covered half of his face. It was floral patterned. "Yeah." He answered honestly, shrugging, "He was nice enough to lend it to me." He elaborated, sharing a grin with Tsuna, though the brunette's was more of hesitant and shy than friendly.
"You made him?!" Gokudera snarled, inching closer, waving his school bag threateningly.
Yamamoto shook his head, "He offered it, actually-"
The Storm guardian kicked the door behind him close and tossed his bag at the taller boy, "I'll beat the sh*t out of you, asshole!" He shouted, digging his hands into his pockets, rummaging for dynamite sticks. Yamamoto caught the bag and was torn with what to do with it. He looked at Tsuna, "What am I supposed to do with-"
The brunette wasn't really listening—he was staring at the door in horror. It had clicked. The bolt was outside.
"Where the heck are my dynamites?!" Gokudera shouted furiously, agitatedly checking his pants and torso.
Tsuna paled at the mention of the dreadful red sticks, "O-Oi, Gokudera-kun, there's no need for violence at all, Yamamoto-san was telling the t-truth-!"
"No matter!" Gokudera exclaimed, drowning the other boy's panicky voice, "I'll beat him with my fists, boss!"
The baseball player seemed to think that it was all a joke, as he gladly laughed and put down the bag on the spot Tsuna had cleaned earlier, "Haha, what are you on?"
A thick, twitching vein popped in Gokudera's forehead, "Are you implying I'm high, you idiot?!" The bomber shrieked.
"Tsuna, your friend's so funny!"
"Don't f-cking ignore me!"
"Will the two of you please shut up?!" Tsuna hissed, voice muffled lowly by the cloth pressed against his lips, "I think we've been locked in!" Without waiting for a reply, he pushed himself past the two, separating the fuming silverette from the laughing raven-haired boy effectively, both who were equally surprised by the sudden loss of the stammer.
With great trepidation, he grasped the knob and pulled it.
The door didn't budge.
Tsuna tried it again, but his senses weren't fooling him.
A dying wail much akin to an animal's escaped his throat, "Mom will get worried." He whispered to himself anxiously, brown eyes going wide in terror, "She'll freak if I don't get home by six!"
Gokudera gave Yamamoto one last aggressive growl before turning to his friend, "Let me try it, Jyuudaime." He offered nicely, and Tsuna stepped away with a nod, allowing the intelligent delinquent some space for work. Yamamoto drifted forward too, not noticing the hostile aura Gokudera was giving him as they waited.
Whatever Gokudera did, it didn't work.
"We're locked in." The part-Italian sullenly admitted in defeat.
"Well that's nice! I didn't like practice in the first place!"
"No it's not nice, you idiot!"
"Mom's going to go crazy!"
Toshio
There were beetles following him, Toshio noted with no small amount of distaste, his lips curling into an impressive sneer as he turned a corner. The P.E. teacher's useless chatter went into one ear and out the other, figuratively speaking of course, as he wasn't really interested about the tiny woman's complaints with his students. Those brats' actions were of no consequence to him. They could all jump off a roof one by one for all he cared... though the ruckus that it would cause might be troublesome.
The beetles, on the other hand, had just arrived recently, and the History teacher knew in an instant that he was being observed.
Nadeshiko didn't even make it to the options, as while she had nothing against insects, she didn't like them in particular.
The Vongola heir was crossed off. The kid was a bumbling buffoon with feminine looks (his mother must've been so proud) and a killer trigger-finger (the way his fingers twitched was a nasty give away, though his clumsiness could explain the twitching). Potential, yes, but potential still not honed. Still a bit naive, but obviously, he inherited a part of his mother's striking intelligence.
That left Vongola itself.
The only powerful member of Vongola in the vicinity enough to pose a threat?
The silverette smoker didn't count—the tiny boy was hardly a threat, all bombs and not enough fighting skills—so that left Nadeshiko's brat's tutor.
The P.E. teacher looked at him expectantly, and he chuckled accordingly to whatever trash she had just spouted off.
Reborn of the Arcobaleno.
The tiny baby known for his curly sideburns was called the world's strongest hitman. Toshio had never fought him, but Reborn sounded like a challenge. A good challenge.
"-shio-san? Toshio-san, are you listening?"
He faced the other teacher with an impassive look, "You doubt my attention to you, Yamisuke-san?" He murmured, raising a single eyebrow.
The short woman wrinkled her nose and sniffed haughtily, "Very well then," She said sharply, crossing her arms, "I said, two of your kids still haven't reported back to me after their cleaning duty. I just wanted to ask if they high-tailed to goof off."
He gave her a dry look and nonchalantly checked his wristwatch, "And you expect me to know this how?" He asked.
She matched his dry look perfectly, "You're their teacher." She dead-panned.
He shrugged and disinterestedly turned to stare out of the window, "I do not understand the relevance. I am not their nanny."
Her gaze turned shrewd, "Aren't you a bit worried at all?"
The question prompted another shrug from him as his gaze trailed off to the field lockers. The lights were still on. He contemplated the thought of punishing some rule breakers and sighed at last, giving in to whatever the other faculty member was hinting at, "Who are these misfits?" He asked her blandly.
The P.E. teacher thought for a second, "Yamamoto and Sawada." She provided after a pause.
Now that caught his attention, "Sawada?" He repeated curiously, "He should be home by now." It was, after all, past six. Nadeshiko never did like it when her subordinates reported late—she was always the pessimistic worry-wart.
The woman snorted and checked her watch, "I thought you weren't their nanny?"
He ignored her sarcastic tone and the subtle way she inched closer to him, instead focusing on the window, specifically on the light from the lockers. Aside from the yellowish glows from the field lamps, it was the only one illuminating the darkness of the outside.
"Run along now, Yamisuke-san. I'll see you tomorrow." He said curtly, turning around to head for the fields. He chose to (again) ignore her irritated huff, as there were much much more important matters to deal with.
Alarmed by this sudden development, one beetle strayed from the group to report to its master.
Tsunayoshi, Gokudera, and Yamamoto
"We're stuck here." Tsuna spoke up miserably, hunched over his legs as he huddled in the cleanest corner of the locker room. His thoughts were in a frenzy—mainly, how to explain his absence in dinner because when his mother freaked out, she freaked out.
Gokudera winced at his boss' sad voice and spluttered in an attempt to comfort the drooping brunette. Yamamoto, on the other hand, was silently thinking, his gaze turned to the ceiling as if it would help him with his own thoughts.
"Hey, Sawada, this isn't all that bad!" Yamamoto exclaimed a moment later, and Gokudera's head snapped to the raven-haired boy, an angry remark on the tip of his tongue, "This way, the three of us can get to know each other!" The baseball player continued obliviously, missing the dark aura dripping off the silverette.
Tsuna made a miserable noise of confusion, his soul having figuratively left him, but he made another sound to encourage Yamamoto to continue.
Seeing the affirmative response, Yamamoto grinned and stretched, his back and joints popping, "The three of us just never seem to talk, and from what I see, the two of you are really interesting!"
Gokudera tsked irritably, "What's this?" He asked suspiciously, back rigid, "An interrogation? You're a spy, how dare you think you can one up Jyuudaime-"
Tsuna tugged on the bomber's sleeve warningly, cutting him off, "Gokudera!" He urgently whispered, sweating buckets, "Ya-Yamamoto-san doesn't k-know about the...it. Please be more discreet and careful!"
The silverette straightened like a military soldier, "Of course, Jyuudaime!" He exclaimed, before seriously turning to Yamamoto, who observed the two of them with a smile and a somewhat envious expression.
The smallest teen of the three blinked and rubbed his eyes. Was he seeing things? Why on Earth would Yamamoto Takeshi be jealous of him, of all people?
I must be seeing things, Tsuna convinced himself, smiling at the taller boy uneasily. "Y-You're right, Yamamoto-san." He agreed quietly, retreating from his fetal position, "S-Sensei will eventually notice that w-we didn't report to her, r-right? She'll check." Probably.
The ever-smiling boy across from him cheered and scooted over, but Gokudera agitatedly shoved himself between the two, until the three of them were uncomfortably pressed together. Gokudera's school bag had been sacrificed to be the brunette's cushion (of course, not even paying attention to said brunette's reassurance that he did not need a cushion), while Tsuna's, which Gokudera had taken the time to retrieve before he stormed into the lockers, was treated like the holy grail, pristinely sitting atop a desk.
Tsuna, wedged between the wall and Gokudera—who in turn was squatting between Yamamoto and Tsuna with his elbows digging into Yamamoto's gut—shifted for some relief, but much to his dismay didn't get it. Yamamoto smiled on obliviously, "Let's start with interests, then. Baseball!"
"Idiot." Gokudera muttered.
"Eh? Gokudera, can it be that you're one of the read-shoujo types? Because the smart delinquent and the idiot thing only happens in mangas, you know!"
"What?! No, I didn't mean that I was interested in idiots!"
"Haha, your secret's safe with us, right Tsuna?"
"U-Uhm..."
Gokudera dug his elbow deeper into the baseball player's gut, "Whatever, idiota!" He scoffed, but then, with flushed cheeks, admitted, "Playing the piano."
Tsuna perked up, "E-Eh?" He gasped, a look of wonder slipping into his face, "You play the piano, Gokudera-kun? That's amazing!"
The silverette cleared his throat, flustered, "T-Thank you, Jyuudaime." He stammered.
Yamamoto chuckled and peered at Tsuna curiously, trying to catch a glimpse of him over the grumpy delinquent's hair and elbows, "How 'bout you, Sawada?" He asked interestedly.
The boy in question hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "Cooking." He said after much thought, flushing at the appraising looks he received after the reveal.
"Wah? I didn't expect that!"
"Shut up, you baseball idiot! Culinary arts is something that Jyuudaime excels at!"
"Y-You still haven't tasted m-my cooking, Gokudera-kun..."
"I'm sure it's great, Tenth!"
Yamamoto cut off whatever praises the Storm guardian was about to spill, "Alright!" He laughed, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, "Sawada, you should drop by at the resto sometimes-" "Are you propositioning the tenth, you asshole?!" "-so that we can cook together?"
At the offer, Tsuna's eyes brightened up, regarding the other boy with a delighted expression, "You cook t-too, Yamamoto-san?" He asked shyly.
The taller boy grinned, "Haha, of course!" He boasted proudly, "My dad owns a sushi restaurant after all—I help out sometimes!"
Tsuna smiled warmly, taken in by the sincerity of the baseball player's tone, honestly surprised by the friendliness from him. "Your offer is very generous, I'll try to, if you'll have me." He replied demurely, thinking of the offer and comparing his schedules.
"B-Boss, I don't think anyone should be 'h-having' you-"
He sighed and face-palmed, "Go-Gokudera-kun, my meaning got lost in translation. I-I didn't mean it that way." He corrected firmly, "I like women."
Whatever the two others were about to say in reply was cut off by a loud click—the bolt being unlocked—and the sudden slamming of the door.
An unimpressed shadow stood on the pathway, his arms crossed and his stare frigidly icy. Tsuna let out a small meep of alarm and clambered up, feeling like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "S-Sensei?"
Gokudera squinted and got to his feet as well. "Who are you, teme?" He demanded roughly of the stranger, wordlessly hauling Yamamoto up by the forearm. The sudden act of friendliness (alliance?) surprised Yamamoto, but he grinned and said nothing, seeing as the smoking silverette had already given him an irritated sideways glance.
A thin book went flying and smacked the delinquent right in the face. "That's sensei to you, punk." The man grumbled, stepping into the room. Tsuna gulped inaudibly and shakily reached for his friends—Yamamoto was a friend now, whether he liked it or not—instantly recognizing the stony eyes and the false smile.
Toshio-sensei.
Gokudera freed his face of the lesson plan and threw it right back at the older man, "Why you-" The teacher caught it silently and fixed an unimpressed gaze at the three, examining each of them thoroughly. He looked around the lockers as well, and then hummed with slight interest, "I was told only Yamamoto and Sawada would be here. Why are there three of you?"
Tsuna took it as his responsibility to explain, "G-Gokudera-kun came to walk with me, sensei." He provided nervously, eyes flicking around for Reborn. Usually the mafioso would be here right now. Strangely enough, there were only the hitman's beetles. "W-We got locked in. S-Sorry."
A single sculpted eyebrow rose in response, "Oh?" Toshio echoed faintly, rubbing his chin, "Is that why you confirmed you are straight, Sawada?"
His mind went blank for a moment. Tsuna blinked repeatedly, uncomprehendingly, "I beg your pardon, sir?" He asked, baffled.
Toshio gave him an unreadable look and turned around, changing the topic, "The school will be closing soon, fortunately for the three of you stuck in the locker room. Unless you wish to spend the night here, then I suggest you retrieve your things and leave." He stepped aside and opened the door for them. When none of them budged—only stared at him with open-mouthed confusion (horror, in Tsuna's case)—his eyes narrowed into slits, "Immediately." He added sharply.
Tsuna didn't need any more encouragements, "Sir yes sir!" He squeaked, grabbing Gokudera's bag and his, and then he dragged along the two dumbfounded boys with him, past the tall form of their homeroom teacher like the wind. Toshio didn't even look back.
"Wow!" Yamamoto laughed once they were a safe distance away, "Toshio-sensei sure is scary!"
The tiny brunette found himself nodding along, letting Gokudera take the silverette's own backpack, while the said bomber scoffed, "He isn't! He pisses me off!" He growled, clenching his hands around the strap of his bag, "What a douchebag!"
This may just be Gokudera's hatred for authority, Tsuna thought blandly, sighing, "He's a teacher, G-Gokudera-kun. I'm actually a little happy he let us go without any punishments for our c-carelessness."
"Yeah." Yamamoto agreed, jogging along side the two of them, "Haha, it's kind of ironic—it was Gokudera's fault we got stuck in there."
"Are you blaming me, you sicko?!"
"P-Please don't fight!" The poor Vongola Decimo stuck in between exclaimed, carefully placing both his hands on each of the boys' shoulders, "Y-Yamamoto-san, should we get your bag? Assuming the r-room still isn't l-locked..."
The school's heart throb nodded and gave him a thumbs-up, "Don't worry, Sawada-san! I'm sure Toshio-sensei has the keys!" He reassured.
Gokudera interrupted the exchange angrily, "Don't act so familiarly with the Tenth, baseball idiot!"
They don't get it at all, Tsuna sobbed mentally, retreating to his depressed corner, I don't want to deal with Toshio-sensei anymore!
Back in the locker room, Toshio appraised the surrounding once more, before deeming it satisfactory.
"Silly hitman." He said to the empty room, his voice monotonous, "I won't hurt your little heir. So don't get in my way."
An idea struck him just as he was locking the door, ignoring the two patrolling DC members that passed by—though he did note to personally approach the committee's chairman to point out the absurdity of his subordinates' hair styles.
He paused in his movements and let the thought tempt him. It would garner more of the Vongola's attention if he forcibly shoved himself into the situation but...
"What is this... 'yolo' you speak of?" He asked her dryly, wordlessly offering her his handkerchief. All around them, unconscious bodies of a small gang that thought they could terrorize the local pharmacies were scattered, some blood staining the asphalt concrete.
She glanced at him and ignored the offered cloth, procuring one of her own from the many folds of her kimono sleeves. He wondered for a moment where on Earth she hid the items she brought out conveniently—and how on Earth she managed to keep them—but nonchalantly returned his own handkerchief to his pocket. It had been soaked in tracking liquid. She was obviously too intelligent to accept anything from him.
"Yolo," She began quietly, bringing out a small bottle of ethyl alcohol, "Is a term I've heard around." Not quite a lie, but she was hiding something, something important. "It basically means 'You only live once' or something like that."
"Oh." He replied dully, intrigued, "I expected that from chili-head, not you."
She cracked out a small smile, and almost casually, her rich brown eyes strayed to his cheek. He didn't follow her gaze, knowing already of the long scratch that ran along his skin. She met his eyes for a moment, and then sighed.
Digging a hand gracefully into her sleeves yet again, she brought out a small strip of a plaster and offered it to him blankly. He stared at it.
She shrugged care-freely and placed it on the cleanest spot on the ground. "I'll be taking my leave." She said, "Until next time, Toshio-san."
"Masahiko." He corrected off-handedly, but she ignored his correction, exiting the dark alley without another word.
He knew, he knew the plaster had a tracker on it, but he picked it up and used it anyway. As she said, yolo.
He clicked the lock in place and shut the bolt. The sound resonated throughout the serene field.
Turning to the direction where Sawada and his friends scuttled off to, Toshio shoved his hands into his pockets and began to walk.
A/N: That's it for now! Next chapter is the Yamamoto chapter (dun dun dun), and finally the action is picking up! /relieved sob. Toshio demanded screen time so that I can see who hates him and who doesn't, and the trio are beginning to build their tentative friendship. No Nana POV for this chapter-there will be for the next, don't worry.
Anyway, thank you for reading! Again, please point out my errors! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!
Also: There is a poll on my page concerning this fanfic. Please check it out. It'll be open for two weeks before I close it. Thank you!