'Checker Face was so powerful,' he thought as he stared up at that depressingly familiar ceiling. 'I couldn't even begin to withstand his illusions when he brought them to bear on me. Maybe…? Maybe when Byakuran acquired the pacifiers in that one dimension, Checker Face fooled him too? Stole them back and used illusion to make Byakuran not realize it? Slaved them to a new set of Arcobaleno?
'Though, that begs the question… I just don't get why the administrator of the Tri-ni-set seems so fucking casual and unconcerned about the pieces, when he was so quick to end my life.'
"Tsu-kun~! Breakfast is ready. Wash up and come down!"
He rolled his eyes and went to get ready.
After breakfast he scurried off outside. That small park that no one ever seemed to frequent was still that small park that no one ever seemed to frequent, so he made himself comfortable to begin the usual opening exercises of each new life.
'Okay,' he thought as he stared at his flame covered hands. 'The full group again, which means I have to worry about being drafted in as Decimo. Fuck. So I not only have to decide how I'm going to handle that, but also how to track down Daemon Spade and avert that whole Sin and Penalty crap with Shimon.
'It was bad enough during the war with Byakuran and everyone running around with those stupid box weapons, because really, everyone needed yet more power, right? But to then add in Primo's blood to give the Vongola rings a boost?
'I already know how to divert Byakuran, so that's cool. Just have to pay attention when the time comes, assuming I'm even here. It's Daemon who is the problem now. Shit. The Flood of Blood happened in 2009, so I have a few years yet until I know for near certain where the man will be, but it'd be way better if I could find him much sooner.
'I'm almost curious as to what would happen if I let it slip that I was a Cloud to the old man and the sperm donor, then fooled them into thinking that Timoteo had successfully sealed me. And then faked my own death because a seal on a Cloud caused me to self-destruct. I think I'm good enough with Mist to pull off a death without needing a body. Or I could just find a victim of Momokyokai and transform that. Either way, I'm not going to find Daemon by wasting time here.'
A part of him sat up in delight at the idea of potentially causing the two men he most disliked to feel guilt over actions they took which led to the death of an innocent child. He was not so nice as to not occasionally take pleasure in the pain of others, especially given what those two seemed prone to doing in nearly every dimension.
'Really, you'd have thought Spade would have loved Iemitsu for being such a narcissistic dick. So long as you can make them think it's their own ideas, a narcissist will defend to the death their course of action, because they're convinced they must be right, and that they have the right. Or maybe I just hate him so much I attribute every bad thing I can think of to his character.'
Tsuna shrugged. His father was and always would be a sore point.
Maybe he should just play it cool and fake them out with the wrong flames, fake them out on thinking he was sealed and therefore no longer the concern of Vongola. He wouldn't have to fake his own death, because he could fake his mother out with tales of having extended sleepovers with a "friend". Something like that.
He would have to tightly plan those trips, to leave messages in Italy for Daemon to find, to hopefully get curious enough to come track him down in Japan. If it came to it, and it was better in the long run for Tsuna to move base to Italy, then he could fake his death and do so.
He shook his head and heaved a sigh. No. For so long as there was any chance that he could activate flames, he would always be in danger of being forced into serving the Vongola. True, pretending to merely be a Cloud would offer quite a lot of protection, but it was still more of a risk than he was willing to take.
The last go around, after having decided to play along, to be around people… Things had gone so badly, and he had struggled with giving a damn about any of it. The bright points were saving the Shimon, especially poor Enma, and learning about Daemon Spade. Even a bit more about the pacifiers and the Vindice.
'Fuck. I'll give it some time. I can use my tricks to plant spies in Italy, get those hints scattered around for Spade and use my glass to spy more directly. Convince those two I'm just a helpless little tuna fish. The screaming was hilarious, though, so maybe that again. It really doesn't hurt to make them think I'm more of an airhead than my mother.
'Okay, I have a basic plan,' he decided. 'Time to get to work.'
. . .
He reached Between repeatedly to drop his spies, wisps of Mist-Earth Flames, and used his panels of glass to see with his own eyes so he could direct them. Seemingly innocuous messages were inserted into many newspapers, though he wasn't sure just how effective they would be given the technological advances in the world.
Then again, he had trouble seeing Daemon Spade glued to a smartphone as a side effect of being addicted to the internet. Especially after seeing the man parade around in his poncy finery from the Dark Ages of Primo's time.
His work was interrupted by The Visit, so he plastered on his best "idiot" face and waited for his cue. The second Iemitsu started babbling about his adorable little tuna fish, Tsuna let out a piercing scream of terror—and a child's scream could be an ear-shattering, impossibly-thin blade of pain—and moved to "hide" behind the bonsai tree he had been having a conversation with, shrieking out a prayer to Kami-sama to save him from the bad man who wanted to eat him.
Nana smiled vacuously and welcomed the stranger into their home—the one Iemitsu insisted was just like family—and offered tea.
Iemitsu started in on the sake straight off. He added cans of beer when every look in Tsuna's direction resulted in another piercing scream and prayer to Kami-sama. The second the blond's eyes were turned away, Tsuna would resume his conversation.
Being called in for lunch was another opportunity to ham it up. Tsuna held his hands up like blinders to either side of his eyes, so he could avoid seeing the scary blond man, but that meant he was unable to eat the food his mother put in front of him.
His eyes went wide and teary, his nose red, and his lower lip trembled dangerously. An almost silent keening noise issue from his throat, of fear and frustration.
Iemitsu let out a low growl—which only caused Tsuna to keen slightly more loudly—and roughly pushed his chair back. Tsuna could hear him exiting the kitchen. After a minute, when he deemed things safe, Tsuna dropped his hands and dove into his meal.
It was only when he was done and "chanced" to look directly at the old man, that his eyes went wide again, his mouth dropped open, and he pointed.
"What is it, Tsunayoshi-kun?" Timoteo asked softly.
"…Jiji-san needs to get help! Jiji-san has fuzzypillars eating his face!" He reached up to dash his fingers over his own brows and the space between his upper lip and nose.
Timoteo's kindly smile stayed fixed in place. "I see."
"Tsu-kun doesn't want the fuzzypillars to get him," he said breathily, shaking his head back and forth.
Nana giggled and clapped her hands together. "Aw, my cute little Tsu-kun~! Go upstairs and play now, Tsu-kun~!"
He beamed at his mother and gratefully took the excuse to escape. All visible memory of his fright over the fuzzypillars was gone as he tumbled off his chair and bounced out of the room, babbling about his play date with neko-chan.
"Neko-chan?" Timoteo asked.
"My little Tsu-kun has the most adorable little stuffed kitty," she burbled happily.
Tsuna giggled to himself all the way up the stairs.
Once the two interlopers were gone he got back to his work of trying to flush Daemon Spade out. In a fit of inspiration he got out his acquired laptop and began to write a play. A play about a noble man and his noble love, of the—well, there were a lot of flowery words and inside references, but basically he scripted out a play involving Daemon and Elena back then, though he changed enough of the surrounding circumstances that most people in Vongola who had a chance of knowing their history would pass it off as a coincidence.
Hopefully.
And hopefully, it would catch Daemon's eye, get him wondering, thinking. It didn't matter if it made him angry, to see a tweaked version of his death, how he was made to face how badly he warped and twisted Elena's wishes, even if he didn't believe the reassurances of the one trying to make him see.
Getting it produced wasn't an issue. He had quite a lot of money stocked, though he had to launder quite a bit of what he had stored Between since it came from an alternate dimension and would be seen as forgeries. Converting precious metals to funds was far simpler, and he made it a point to start keeping plenty of that on hand the moment he realized what he stored Between stayed with him no matter what subsequent dimension he ended up in.
But he had enough to pay for a group of aspiring stage actors to learn the play, practice, and perform once each night over the course of the summer in an outdoor amphitheater he rented.
All without leaving Namimori.
He knew he was getting somewhere when his spies noticed other spies lurking nearby, so he allowed one of his to be slightly more obvious rather than having it hide at the edge of Between. Tsuna had long since made it a practice to gloss his glass panes with Mist on the other side, to hide them, so he could view without worrying about an audience.
So he was in a perfect position to see the other spy notice his, though he could not tell if the other spy was Daemon's. On a whim he had his spy shift shape into a spade, just to see what would happen.
If a wispy little Mist spy could show shock, this one did. Somehow. It was as if its little eyes went wide and it startled in place.
Tsuna took a moment to scribble down a note (Earth Flames were used to hold the pen and paper, so there would be no fingerprints, just in case) and then drop it through Between so that it fluttered to the ground under his visible spy. The spy was sent to perch behind the note.
The opposing spy cautiously approached to see: Have you come to your senses yet? Or are you still a psychotic whackjob that Elena would be disappointed in?
He could just imagine it, that little wisp of Mist, putting its tiny hands on its nonexistent hips and scowling. Or maybe he could because the damn thing was doing just that.
Tsuna scribbled another note and delivered it: Seriously. I don't see the point in even trying to open a proper dialogue with you if you're not in your right mind.
The other spy moved back and forth in a floaty form of pacing. As it did so it kept getting larger. Legs sprouted from it, and arms, and really long hair. Eventually it came to a stop in the form of a translucent Daemon Spade.
Tsuna had the urge to put on mirrored sunglasses for some reason. He could only hope that Daemon could not pinpoint the location of his window and actually use that spade trick on him to subvert his will. Or possess him.
Unfortunately, the spy couldn't transmit sound, so Daemon resorted to writing messages in the air with Mist.
"I have been considering the possibility that I might have been a bit hasty in my interpretation of my beloved's dying words."
Tsuna snorted.
His own spy stopped pretending to be a spade and rose up into the air, forming words as well. "I see. And have you reconsidered this potentially hasty interpretation? Because I can get behind the idea of making a bunch of clams behave better, though it would potentially require some serious tweaking."
Daemon's brow went up. "Which clams in particular?"
"Oh, some crusty ones," he replied. "The lead crusty's clamlets probably need new role models, too, though the youngest is actually delightful once you get past all the swearing."
"The youngest isn't even a true clam."
"I'm well aware of that. But he's damn effective. The crusty clam just oozes manipulation and lies and guilt trips…"
Daemon smirked. "This, coming from a fellow Mist?"
"I am unappreciative when a crusty old clam tries those tactics on me and expects them to work."
"You obviously know who I am," Daemon said. "May I know your name?"
"…You may call me Heul, for the moment. If it turns out to be possible that we can work together without fear of backstabbing, I will reveal my true name."
"How did you even know I yet existed?"
Tsuna bit his lip. "I know someone. They can see … sideways, so to speak. I encountered you in another lifetime. Again, so to speak. You were formidable, but not invincible. Still, I would have preferred to have you as a rational ally, not an enemy."
Daemon looked positively intrigued. "Why so much interest in seafood?"
"Because I am a clam."
Daemon's eyes burned with interest. "How curious. I was unaware of any clams blessed with Mist."
"I am more than Mist. But Mist is one of my primary weapons. It's so delightfully versatile for a creative mind."
"Such as how you're doing this at all."
The previous set of words bobbed in place, like a nod.
"I found it curious you would show no face, but now…"
"I know what that eye of yours can do. I'd rather not become your puppet. Having taken the risk to admit I'm a clam, well… I can show you a face, but it would be false for now."
Daemon looked thoughtful for some time, his head tilted just slightly to the side, then he slowly reached out to brush his "finger" over the words still hovering in the air. A surprised look graced his face. "Ah, I see. You're an heir, which narrows it down quite a bit, does it not?"
Tsuna furrowed his brow.
"I sense Mist, Cloud, and Sky. And something else, something I have not encountered in some time. This is very intriguing. And it eliminates almost everyone."
'Aw, fuck, he's figured it out. Bastard's too smart.'
"Tell me, Heul, do you like hold conversations with potted plants?"
"As an act, yes."
Daemon smirked and nodded. "You're quite something, aren't you, to be managing this from so far away. To pull off such a grand show to catch my attention."
"As I said, I would prefer you as a rational ally, not an enemy."
"I'm just going to have to secure myself passage, then, aren't I," Daemon said. "I would love to meet you in person."
"I'll leave Mist markers in place, where I usually work from."
"I will find you," Daemon promised.
. . .
He was busy tapping away on his laptop, dealing with his investments, when his intuition pinged and caused him to stare into the distance. No one was visible, but he knew better. Daemon obviously noticed, because he faded into view and approached to take a seat.
"Hello, Daemon. Welcome to Namimori."
"Greetings, Tsunayoshi."
"Tsuna is fine, though as you saw, I go by Heul for most things. I'm curious about something."
"Yes?"
"How do you choose bodies to inhabit? I mean… I can't figure out what your criteria would be, aside from Mist of at least decent strength."
"There is a synchronization ratio. Anyone active with even a hint of Mist will work, but that does not make them effective hosts. Some bodies simply fit better than others."
"Huh. That might explain why you—the other you. Uh…"
Daemon's brow went up.
"In that other life, so to speak, you had a very particular target. He was practically your clone, anyway. Once I actually saw you, it made me wonder if you'd ever procreated and he was a genetic throwback."
His companion's brow crinkled. "You are surprisingly eloquent for being so young. Did this … sideways experience … mature you?"
"You know what? Fuck it. I'm dying to tell someone. The worst that can happen in the end is I die, because if I lose my mind for real, it's not like I'll exist anymore to give a fuck. So it's like this." He settled in to explain the insanity he called life, paying particular attention to the Shimon battles—or what he remembered of them when he hadn't been checked out mentally.
"I can believe this," Daemon said slowly, "based on several things. The qualities assigned to the Mare rings, for one. The sheer breadth of your knowledge, especially about things no five year old child should ever have encountered, is another, and even more compelling. So what exactly is it you plan to do this time?"
"Aside from try to prevent you from…" He sighed. "Primary goal, to figure out those stupid pacifiers and how to replace them in the system. Secondary goal, to avoid being sucked into the insanity and hypocrisy that is Vongola as a candidate. Tertiary goal, linked to the secondary, to get the old man to step down in favor of one of his sons. Though with the way I suspect the old man has been a horrible father, all three of those candidates are probably sub-par and quite possibly in need of a little mental tinkering."
"Oh my. I suppose I should not be surprised after the tale you've regaled me with. It is clear you are a peculiar blend of ruthless and soft-hearted."
Tsuna shrugged. "I enjoyed my time in the Varia. At least those guys are straightforward, though that might have something to do with Xanxus being so hacked off with the old man for so long. They didn't care what your name was or what family you came from, or even if you came from one, so long as you were Quality and got the job done. It was refreshing."
Daemon smirked in amusement. "I am going to investigate the brothers three in depth. I wish to be absolutely certain what sort of men they are before I consider action of any kind. Will you be remaining here, or striking out again?"
"I'm probably going to fake my death again and find a place in Italy, probably in Rozzano. Close, but not right on their doorstep."
"Are you going to become all moral if I choose to obtain a new body in that delightful Mist you spoke of?"
"The one you sought last time?" Tsuna shook his head. "He didn't deserve what they did to him, but I barely knew the kid. Maybe you taking over will give his soul a chance to be reborn to better circumstances, rather than ruthlessly experimented on until he finally gains enough power and confidence to slaughter them all. At this point, I'd almost consider it saving the kid from a fate worse than death."
Daemon hummed. "I will track you down in Rozzano, then."
He nodded, satisfied so far.
. . .
Another shark, another death, and he was shortly thereafter settling in at a cozy apartment in Rozzano. Tsuna donned his Heul disguise—the adult version of it, freshly anchored to a toe-ring—and set about dropping spies into the Iron Fort to keep an eye on Timoteo, Enrico, Massimo, and Federico.
While spies could witness all sorts of nasty or deviant behavior, they could not get into someone's mind and poke around. Though, to be fair, Tsuna had never tried using them that way. Daemon, on the other hand, had centuries of experience, and Tsuna had little doubt he could mentally slave someone long enough to learn what he wanted with that eye trick of his, then wipe away any memory of the encounter.
"Huh, maybe that's something I should investigate this time around," he muttered, fixing himself a cup of oolong.
"What would that be?"
Tsuna twitched and replied, "Mind reading, essentially. And memory removal. It's just as well I hadn't put up my usual protections, or you might have wandered off in completely the wrong direction."
"Ah, you never did go into detail about that," Daemon said, taking a seat at his brand new table.
"Tea?" he offered.
"Please."
Once they were settled in with oolong and some nice bread he had picked up from a nearby bakery, he said, "There was a concept used in the games I used to play, called a bounding box. You also find them in geometry. The concept pops up elsewhere, but that was where I first encountered them."
Daemon nodded as he buttered his bread.
"It's a cube of Mist, so it provides protection on all sides. I propagate the disorienting properties of the Mist to make it that much harder for anyone to get inside, or even realize there's anything there to pay attention to. I used them the entire time during the Varia lifetime. Just in case. People get jealous, irrational."
"Like you did when you snapped?"
Tsuna rolled his eyes. "I was perfectly rational when I decided to start slaughtering entire families. I just wasn't aware at the time that you were behind the incident that set me off in the first place, and impersonated that jackass who claims to be my father."
Daemon sipped his tea, his eyes gleaming in amusement.
"The fact that the ninth refused to even investigate properly still remains. For someone who goes on and on about rebuilding the Vongola to closer resemble its roots, the old man is quite hypocritical when it comes to his favorites. At any rate, my spies have assured me that the layout of the Iron Fort is the same as I learned previously, so that's comforting. The brothers, however…"
"If you take a portion of Mist Flames as if you were going to wrap it around a target's mind and instead sink it into their mind, you get different results. You aren't trying to seize control of their perception, but rather synchronize with their mind, their thoughts."
"And doing so transfers what they're thinking about," he guessed, "rather like how my spies are 'hearing' things and transforming that information into signals I then 'hear'. But it's all mental. And then using your connection to the Mist to influence them to think in a … a certain direction?"
Daemon nodded. "True, I have it much easier. I can simply invoke my particular specialty, but I did it the other way until that manifested. Have you manifested anything of interest?"
He thought about that and shrugged. "I don't think so. Most of the interesting things I can do involve creativity and looking at things differently. The only really odd thing is connected to an experiment I did. The results persisted even after each death."
A quizzical look was aimed his way.
Tsuna noticed Daemon's tea was low so he topped him off, then kept the man's attention as he reached into Between and pulled out a notebook.
Daemon blinked.
"I don't even remember when I got the idea," he said, "but I wanted to make use of the space between molecules. To help hide my spies, myself, to travel, and for storage. The odd thing is that my storage is always accessible. But I have to launder any money in there each time, because they count as forgeries. I started storing a lot of gold because of that. Easier to convert to get a jump-start on investments."
"I have never, in all these centuries, seen a technique like that."
He grinned. "Manifestations, though… I really don't think so. Not like you and that eye, or Mukuro and his eye, or Viper and their psychic ability. But all the weird stuff probably balances that out."
"I don't recall hearing anything in that story which would explain why any of this is happening to you."
Tsuna shook his head. "Don't have a clue. The only thing that ever rang any bells was what Viper said during the Scramble Battle for Mist, about reliving lives. But reincarnates aren't supposed to remember anything, and they sure as hell aren't supposed to collect flame types or … boatloads of cash…" He shrugged, completely at a loss.
"So, are you willing to avoid traumatizing poor Enma this time? I don't care if you frame Iemitsu for something horrible. I considered at one point maneuvering him into blackmail-worthy material and using it to force a divorce between him and my mother, but I'm not sure she'd survive without that link. It's like her entire psyche is dependent on him."
Daemon wrinkled his nose. "I shall consider it, after spending some time investigating the man. And yes, I shall avoid the Shimon Famiglia. Let's focus on the here and now of Vongola. See if any of those sons are in any way worthy of being Decimo."
"I agree. Though I'm going to test the mind-reading stuff on other people. I'd rather not mess up and turn one of the brothers into a vegetable." He paused. "A vegetable that could still produce children, one assumes, but still."
"I do agree that it is odd that the old man has not pushed harder for his sons to settle down and begin families of their own. How is the line to continue if they do not?"
Tsuna grimaced. "He was seventy when I was… He's sixty now, I suppose? Enrico has got to be forty, and his brothers are a few years apart. It's long past time for them to take those steps. You know, sometimes I wonder if the reason he never pushed was because he always intended on a fallback of…"
"You."
"Yeah. Young, sealed, stupid, naïve. Almost completely inexperienced—even with Reborn there constantly—used to being bullied into doing things… Was it all a long con? And Xanxus was never told, so that he would be likely—especially after having been iced—to fight for the title, even knowing it was beyond his reach?" He huffed a laugh. "I'm not sure if I want to know. My opinion of Timoteo is already in the toilet, but… Wow. I can't believe that never occurred to me before."
. . .
Tsuna's spies told him that the three brothers were horribly spoiled and arrogant. His theory about the old man was gaining weight in his mind, which was a terrifying thing, the idea that Timoteo basically let his sons be murdered so he could go after the original bloodline to elevate a candidate who was too young and downtrodden to presumably have a proper backbone.
He pinched himself. 'Settle down. No flipping out over something you can't even prove.'
Xanxus was fourteen, nearly fifteen, so the Cradle Affair was likely to happen soonish. In a way it seemed li—oo, now there was an idea. Should he meddle?
"I sensed plotting and decided to investigate."
He rolled his eyes. Daemon showed up at the strangest times, really. "I was wondering if I should take out Ottavio ahead of schedule. But without him reporting on Xanxus's plans back to Timoteo, the coup might actually result in something surprising."
"The coup he was using as a vehicle to express his displeasure that the old man lied to his face with a smile and led him on."
"Right. Timoteo knew it was coming, and he reacted by icing Xanxus during the confrontation in his office. But if he didn't know ahead of time, I'm not sure what would happen. Would Xanxus get an admission, finally? Would he kill the old guy? Would his men miss out on valuable personal growth time while Xanxus was a popsicle?"
"Valuable personal growth?" Daemon mouthed in confusion. "How about we mess with Ottavio to get him to copy us on those reports, without alerting the old man or even our target to the change?"
"…Yeah, okay. I'm leaning toward thinking that it'd be detrimental to directly meddle in this. Xanxus coming back and seeing how his men—Squalo especially—held the Varia together for him was probably a good thing."
"And his attempt to murder Timoteo at the Scramble Battles?"
"Possibly very good, except for the part where I would have been his killer—or in that one instance, my fraternal twin—and probably beheaded before anyone calmed down enough to point out that the old man's guardians are obviously incompetent."
"Unless the old man purposely allowed himself to be kidnapped, trusting that the boy trained by Reborn would prevail, and the incident would further bind the child to him," Daemon suggested.
"More guilt," he said. "That's devious, if it's what happened. Let me think back… The last time I remember dealing with him was the meeting where he blatantly lied and guilt tripped me into agreeing to the Inheritance Ceremony after assuming I was braindead or something. His guardians were there, of course.
"I don't recall sensing any tension between him and his men, so either they had a good enough relationship to get over any bumps that whole thing caused, or it was planned and they were in on it, which would mean they had contingency plans for either outcome. I never saw the whole battle from the perspective of candidate, because I died all of two seconds after Hibari defeated the thing, and when I was Varia, I got my intel after the fact from my spies. I hadn't quite figured out the more interesting aspects of working with Between yet at the time."
"I'm hearing a 'yes' vote from you for a detailed look into the old man's mind," Daemon said dryly.
He hesitated. "I'm almost afraid of what you might find. I might go off the deep end again, kill the fuckers, and get whacked by Checker Face again."
"I'll talk you down from the ledge," Daemon promised, the smirk on his face anything but reassuring.
He shot a skeptical look at his—whatever it was that Daemon was to him. He would have to set aside some time to figure that out. "Right. I will admit to being interested to know if the old man deliberately raised his sons poorly, or if he's just incompetent. Because from what I can see, the three of them are pathetic, and their guardians are more like fashion accessories than useful as protection and advisors."
. . .
"He had the idea," Daemon told him some time later, "but that changed after your performance. He realized that if you truly were that stupid he would only be leading the family to utter ruination."
"As if he hasn't been already?" he asked dryly.
"You know how it works," Daemon said carelessly. "At this point he is going over his options seriously, because now he is assured that his backup plan is a losing prospect."
"You would think that after seeing how Iemitsu acts, he would have known better," he muttered.
Daemon shrugged. "He found Iemitsu early enough to wreathe him in promises of glory and blind him to the real nature of Vongola, but not early enough to divert him from…"
"Being an idiot," Tsuna finished. "He probably now thinks it's genetic, the idiocy. Just as well I faked my death. I don't … really expect him to push Iemitsu to have more idiot children," he mused, "but either way, there is no one left alive old enough to take on the role of Decimo but his three biological sons. He's got to push them into marriage and fatherhood, plus figure out which one is the least dangerous in terms of ruining the family."
Daemon nodded. "The question then becomes: how do you feel about me tinkering to make one of them at least passable as a don, and tinkering with the old man to push him down that road faster, to propagate the family?"
"What about the other two?" he asked. "Would they resent these changes and fight back? Take out the chosen one? Take out each other? Their father, so it would fall to a vote? Actually, I have no idea how that works. How is the next leader chosen, if not directly by the current one?"
"Think back to those Scramble Battles you mentioned," Daemon said. "When it comes to that, that's how it's handled. And yes, it's expected that people will die, that in the end only one brother would stand, with all, some, or none of his guardians still living. And, given how pathetic the current lot is, I would not be surprised if only a single person was left standing at the end."
Tsuna thought about that for a bit, absently folding a piece of paper into a crane. "How about we push for that," he said eventually, starting on a second one. "Find out who's left standing and then tinker with that person? Maybe, if we have a clear preference, meddle enough to ensure they win? And, of course, find a woman who won't fuss much and is ready and willing to start creating the next generation."
Daemon chuckled lowly, the sound of it sinister and decidedly creepy. "Oh, I can ensure they won't cause a fuss."
It was ugly, the thought of it. Some woman picked to essentially be an ornament and brood mare. On the other hand, the right woman would quite likely be grateful for being raised up with only that as her job. And it would be a job, unless the two managed to fall for each other. He and Daemon could ensure she would be treated well, not like a prisoner—except for where it came to her safety, and the safety of any children—and have access to the finer things in life.
"All those morals I started out with," he whispered, "dashed on the rocks of reality and swept away by waves and wind…"
"How poetic," Daemon said smirkingly. "Being a Mist… Well, it does things to your mind. Morals are generally something other people have."
Tsuna rolled his eyes. "I still have morals," he insisted. "They're just a lot more personal now. They're mine, not something I was given and told to follow like a good boy. A good boy would have taken the knowledge he had and tried so hard to live up to the unrealistic expectations everyone had of him. He would have tried so hard to save everyone, not realizing it's a fool's game. He would have been crushed under the guilt."
"But you were bright enough to see what was going on," Daemon said, almost in a sing-song. "Bright enough to fool them. Just think how far you could—"
"No," he interrupted wearily. "No no no. You will not try that corruption shit on me. I told you what my goals are this time around. Either help, or fuck off. But none of this mind-twisting bullshit. I am a better ally whole in mind than I am as a twisted reflection of you. You sure as hell didn't come up with the tricks I have as a Mist."
Daemon grinned after a moment and shrugged. "Just testing your resolve," he said sunnily.
"Sure, let's go with that."
. . .
While Daemon was off being evil for the sake of the Vongola's continued existence—even Tsuna couldn't pretty up their plans with soft words and a fuzz-focus—Tsuna was off amongst the civilian population trolling for rapists and other nasties so he could work on his mind-reading technique.
He would start with the inactives and move his way up to actives, just in case.
And most likely deal with them once he was done with his tests. It would be heartless indeed to let them continue to roam free, hurting innocents, ripping them to shreds emotionally or physically, or even killing them for some sick thrill.
Daemon's explanation was enough to get him started, once he tracked down a rapist. It was shocking in some ways how brazen they could be when it came to acquiring a victim. Tsuna found one who had just dragged a girl into an alley. He reacted by slapping up Mist barriers and then shrouding the man in Mist to divert him.
The girl was gently encouraged to go, to get to a place of safety.
The man was sent a bit farther down the alley and trapped in a Bounding Box so that Tsuna would not be interrupted. Tsuna was positioned on the roof of one of the buildings that hedged in the alley and, as it was his Bounding Box, he could see into it perfectly.
His target was confused, not only by the change in circumstance, but by his inability to go anywhere. Tsuna reached out with his Mist Flames and used them to first blanket the target's senses, to further confound him, then to insinuate themselves into the target's mind and thoughts.
He was surprised when the man's head exploded and splattered brain matter all over the interior of the Bounding Box.
Tsuna coughed and slinked away quietly through Between, letting the box dissipate so the corpse could be found.
His next attempt was a bit less … forceful … and more delicate. Thankfully, the target's head did not explode. Tsuna also did not manage to, well, manage … what he was after, which was leeching information straight out of the guy's head.
But it was progress.
Daemon was still off doing his thing, so Tsuna continued on his self-assigned mission. He varied his hunting grounds so that no one got any ideas about trying to entrap a serial killer. 'Hah,' he thought to himself. 'One man's serial killer is another man's vigilante, right?'
He baited a pedophile into an alley and trapped him for his next try. He insinuated his Mist into the man's mind and focused on sensing his target's thoughts. What he got was a faceful of images, all of them featuring precisely what the man planned to do to him once he had been subdued.
None of it was pretty.
But, seeing as how he had succeeded in at least part of his mission, he tried for the second half, which was to guide the target's thoughts in a particular direction, so Tsuna could glean information from him. To that end, he attempted to nudge the target into thinking about his home.
Of course, he had no real concept of how to do that, not having bothered to ask Daemon for details. Therefore, he began to think of home, but in an abstract way, and try to push that direction of thought into his target's mind.
Tsuna was not prepared for when his target's brains liquefied inside his skull.
He huffed in annoyance and slipped Between to flee the scene. He was going to have to ask Daemon for advice.
. . .
He scowled the entire time Daemon laughed at him.
Once the elder Mist finally regained his composure he said, "If you can consistently replicate that you will have a fantastic assassination technique in your arsenal."
He scowled some more.
Daemon laughed again and shook his head in amusement. "Well, now that I have had my daily share of laughter, I shall update you on what I've found and done."
Tsuna sat up straighter, curious.
"The, ah, crusty clam has been induced to settle the matter now, rather than dithering uselessly for yet more time, and has initiated the Scramble Battles. Right at the moment, the least useless seems to be Massimo. He is in the unenviable position of middle child, which means he resents Enrico for being older and better trained, and he resents Federico for being the baby and being more spoiled. This gives him plenty of motivation to win out over both of them."
Tsuna nodded.
"He is a bit less maliable than Federico, but also less spoiled."
"A happy medium, in other words."
Daemon nodded. "With that in mind, I suggest we subtly support Massimo in his efforts to win this overall. And once he's in position, continue that support. Help him to find and obtain better guardians, preferably ones who are focused on the job and not their hair or clothing or food or who they get to bed that night."
Tsuna rolled his eyes. Aside from his first life where he held a passing fancy for that Sasagawa girl, the absolute last thing on his mind most days was dating or hormones or sex. Perhaps if he had actually ever bedded someone he might feel differently, but he had not, so he did not.
He paused to do the math again.
He had lived around one hundred ten years so far, and had never even reached a quarter century in any one life.
Maybe someday.
He wasn't really surprised, thinking back on it. Even in his longest life he had too many other things to focus on to worry about that sort of partner. He wasn't even sure where his inclinations lay, for that matter. The initial reactions of the young and very stupid were not a good indicator, after all.
He shook his head and tried to focus on the matters at hand. "Do you think the old man would try to act as an advisor to Massimo?"
"Daniella did not," Daemon said, tilting his head thoughtfully, "but she was tired and wanted her rest. She was disappointed in her son after he took over, for she thought she had trained him well enough with what time she could spare for him directly. It became apparent soon enough that he had fooled her to a degree."
"Not all Vongola have the Hyper Intuition," he commented. "I distinctly remember Timoteo saying he sensed that I was agreeable for a moment to the idea of succeeding him. Clearly he was delusional."
"You only agreed to see where it would go."
Tsuna nodded. "What is your opinion of Daniella?"
"She was tough, but she had to be," Daemon replied. "The mafia can still be quite sexist, so she had to do twice the work on top of ensuring that no one got any ideas about Vongola being weak simply because a woman led them. She didn't have time to worry about Vongola's roots, though she did try."
"Timoteo is more and more like a snake in the grass."
Daemon fidgeted, his lips pursing and his eyes shifting to the side. "Part of it is probably my doing," he admitted. "I had misinterpreted…"
He was a bit stunned that Daemon admitted to any wrongdoing. "What's done is done. Let's just see if we can nudge things back to a less bloody path, without inviting the other side to dogpile the Vongola and their allies."
"To get back to what you said earlier," Daemon said, steering the conversation back to a safer topic, "to direct their thoughts you need to…"
. . .
"Maybe Talbot would have some ideas?" he mused.
"He has been around since time began, seemingly," Daemon commented.
"It really makes me wonder if he's something like Checker Face. He indirectly claimed not to be human, and I got the impression he's really old. Like, older than you old. And while he clearly has a handle on Mist Flames, I rather doubt he manages via possession like you have. I likewise doubt that Talbot possesses people."
"He could have found the fabled Fountain of Youth," Daemon said with a shrug. "Or created a Philosopher's Stone. People have only been trying to do that since ancient times."
Tsuna shrugged back. "Makes me wonder if Checker Face looks just as wizened as Talbot under his disguise. Or maybe Talbot wears a disguise to make people think he's not very threatening." He sighed, sincerely doubting he would ever get answers to certain nagging questions. Life just wasn't nice that way.
Tsuna wasn't going to break the mind of an ally just to get answers, and he had no doubt it would take him uncounted iterations before he was strong enough to even contemplate trying that on Checker Face, never mind being strong, talented, and clever enough to find the man in the first place.
"The pacifiers are containers, correct?" Daemon said. "They contain flame, for whatever reason. The rings function similarly, but they are not so devastating."
"Even if we made new ones, we don't know how they function, exactly. Talbot might have ideas based on his knowledge of the Vongola rings, though."
"Reasonable," Daemon said agreeably. "But getting him to talk to us…"
Tsuna slumped. "Right, we're strangers. Well, I mean, you're not, but I don't think most people would take Primo's Mist Guardian being back from the dead too well. Or… Well, who knows? He might be okay, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't talk to the old man about it. Someone who has been alive that long surely has a will of iron and the resolve of a hundred men."
"Even if we could get information from him," Daemon replied, "we still have no idea how these theoretical containers would function in the absence of a person for them to leech off."
"You know who else has been around since forever?" he said.
"…The Vindice."
"Yeah. I wonder what that means. Speaking of which, do you have any idea how they do that portal thing?"
Daemon's brow went up. "It's clearly a flame of some kind. Based on what you can do with Mist…"
"Yeah, no," he said, shaking his head. "I tried like hell to pull that off, and I never could. I don't think Between is the same thing. I'm slipping through the gaps. I think they're doing science fiction shit. Like Star Trek, but… Um, folding space? I never could quite get the hang of that stuff."
Daemon looked thoughtful. "I never tried. Unfortunately, given that I have acquired a nearly perfect host body, I am loathe to relinquish it in order to go haunt Vendicare."
"Um…" Tsuna bit his lip, wondering if he should share one of his secrets with his mostly trustworthy ally. "Have you figured out Between yet based on what I've said?"
Daemon smirked and reached up to snag a box out of thin air. "Yes."
He grinned. "Okay. Here's a new trick, then." He pulled a spare pane of glass from his stash and held it up. "This is a window. If you can hold it on the edge of Between, with one face on your side, and one face on the other side…"
A long, slow sound of appreciation came from his fellow Mist. "So that's how you could so clearly see when we 'met' in Italy. And as I could not see anything resembling glass… You used Mist on my side. But… Ah, I see. You also use Earth Flames to assist you in keeping the glass steady. I suppose it's a good thing I can use those well enough, so long as I have a good medium."
"Considering I find it hard to believe there is but a single person for each of the Flames of the Earth per generation, someone is obviously making rings for those out there. I expect you wouldn't have issues finding one."
"Oh, that won't be a problem," Daemon assured him. "More to the point is whether or not spying on the Vindice will tell us anything."
"Um… I've never been to Vendicare. Can we take a trip so I have a starting point? I assume you know where they are…?"
Daemon shot a frown his way, but Tsuna could tell it was mostly fake. "Yes, I do. It's located on the highest peak in Germany, on the border with Austria, and not all that far from Italy, as the crow flies. It will take a bit of doing to get there, and it is protected by cameras and Mist, but I expect we won't have much trouble getting a good look at the outside."
"And if I have that much," he said softly, "I can ease a spy through the front door when it opens for a visitor, or a window if there are any."
"There are," Daemon confirmed. "Metal bars, actually, rather than windows. If you're all right with it, I'll go start arranging passage now. I would say, pack for a week, to be safe."
He nodded. "I'll toss at least that much into storage, plus food. Just in case."
A few days later they were off, taking a train—Daemon was old school like that—to the station nearest to their destination. The cable car ride was awesome. The trek on foot after that … not so much. It was cold! It was a good thing he kept gear for all climates, a habit left over from his time in the Varia.
The exterior of the prison was blanketed in snow. The entrance had an imposing set of steps leading to an equally imposing door, and off to the sides, in the craggy stone of the mountain the prison was carved into, were barred openings that showed only darkness beyond. Torches burned to either side at the top of the door, and also to either side of the path at the bottom of the steps.
Tsuna observed things for a while from his hiding spot, then signaled to Daemon, who signaled back. They retreated some distance away and sent in spies. Once those were away Tsuna set up a Bounding Box as extra protection. Assuming the Vindice stuck to their prison when not out hunting down criminals was no reason not to be cautious.
A "look" through each of the "windows" showed that they formed part of the outer defenses and cameras were tucked into those dark recesses where they would be less likely to be seen. In other words, there was another door back there behind the one visible to those approaching on foot, and not an easy entry.
One of Daemon's spies nudged one of Tsuna's and floated off. Curious, Tsuna had his follow. Daemon's spy suddenly shot up and hovered near a darker spot on the wall, up near the ceiling of the passageway. Tsuna concentrated and saw what Daemon was highlighting: a vent.
Then he wondered why Daemon didn't just say it out loud. They were inside the same Bounding Box, after all.
He shrugged and slipped his spy into the vent.
. . .
"The Flame of Night."
Tsuna rolled his eyes. "Must you be so dramatic?"
"Yes, daily," Daemon said with a smirk. "I would not be true to myself otherwise."
"Kami-sama," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So what do you make of their practice? Because they were warping around so fast I could barely see them move. Something was odd, though, but I can't quite put my finger on it."
"I think … Bermuda," Daemon said. "Two things."
"One being that he's a chibi? I don't need all three guesses to figure that one out."
Daemon nodded. "Two being that I think he's the source of their power. Think back and review what we saw."
He did, trying to block out the sounds around him. "Um… He had a weird habit of resting on their shoulders briefly. If it'd been someone like Fon or Skull, I might have believed it to be a thing of comfort or support, but considering what Vindice actually means… Wait, support? You think he was recharging them?"
Daemon nodded again. "I suspect that they have no flame of their own. Bermuda is probably the first. He found some strength of will, some resolve, in the presumably minute amount of time between the removal of his pacifier and his death. He ignited a new flame, one of darkness, bitter spite, hatred…"
Tsuna's lips pursed as he considered that in conjunction with Xanxus. "Baby clam has Flames of Wrath, so it's not quite the same thing, though it might explain some of his personality. Definitely not the same thing. So yeah. This Night Flame would lean toward Mist rather than Storm, maybe a touch of Sky due to—well, no, a lot of people could fly despite flame type, so… I wonder if Earth is involved in any way, because moving that fast is like laughing in the face of gravity… Magnetic induction to launch movement… Possibly Cloud…"
Daemon obviously got impatient with his muttering and said, "Does this help us?"
Tsuna blinked and focused on his companion. "Well, if that flame holds any properties of Cloud, maybe. If there were a flame that could propagate flames directly, somehow… But that sounds almost crazy. Still, the Flame of Night might be important. Which," he mused, "leads us back to Talbot, probably."
He let out a sigh. That was going to be difficult. He didn't know if even Daemon could get information out of Talbot's head without troubles. "We should probably focus on the Scramble Battles for now?"
"They start in a few weeks."
"Why so long?" he asked in confusion. "They're all right there."
Daemon shrugged. "Some quaint notion about fair play, I presume, to give each of them time to prepare."
"Pfft. The only reason I got extra time was because of those fake rings, and even then it took me the entire time to finally figure out Zero Point Breakthrough. True, I wasn't hampered by having been sealed at five, but it isn't the easiest of concepts to get down. I wouldn't be surprised if Giotto developed it purely by accident."
The sudden smirk on Daemon's face said that was likely the case.
"I wonder how this will affect Xanxus's coup," he mused. "I mean, he's got to still be hacked off about the lies, but at least in this case, it would be one of his 'brothers' getting the position, not an outsider. Hm." He quickly called up one of his panes and peeked in on Ottavio.
Daemon scooted over to share the viewing portal, so Tsuna flipped it from portrait to landscape orientation.
Ottavio was busy typing away at a report, about Xanxus's latest plans for his coup. Only that some of the information was hours old gave indication that things were still heading forward, rather than having stalled at the news of the Scramble Battles. By all accounts, the attack was set to happen about a week prior to the actual battles.
"I guess we'll see," Daemon murmured.
"Ottavio still doesn't seem to be in the know about Xanxus not being of the blood."
Daemon hummed. "He appears to think this is jealousy-based." The amusement in his voice was clear.
"…Which is slightly weird given that Xanxus already has such a powerful position of importance, his own little fiefdom."
Daemon chuckled lowly. "Well, Clouds aren't known for their people skills, Heul."
"Bite me," he replied absently, still reading the evolving report.
. . .
A week and a half prior to the scheduled start of the Scramble Battles, Xanxus and his people struck. They slithered into the Iron Fort like the seasoned professionals they were, causing chaos and confusion and giving their boss the chance to confront his "father".
Timoteo iced him the moment Xanxus brought up the reason for his justifiable rage. The old man's guardians promptly shuffled the results down to a sub-basement storage room and locked the door behind them. Tsuna wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the seven of them returned once the remainder of the Varia had been booted out to set up one of those barriers of combined flames, like the one that was an allegedly perfect protection for the Vongola Sin at the inheritance ceremony.
"I've changed my mind."
"Oh?" Daemon's brow went up, though his eyes stayed on the glass.
"After the Scramble Battles, while things are still in flux, I'm going to steal Xanxus. Put him somewhere safe and then let the Varia know so they can come get him. Maybe with a hint about combined flames necessary to free him. I didn't get all the details that one time, but with that much I expect they can figure it out. If it takes too long, well, I guess a bigger hint?"
Daemon pressed the back of his thumb to his lower lip. "And Ottavio would suffer a convenient accident before they were alerted to where their boss was stored, one presumes."
He hummed in agreement. "Definitely. I was thinking of a seaside cave or something. We could put up an anchored Mist barrier, strong enough to keep the majority out, but not so much that Mammon couldn't get in, and lead the others."
"And if they have any sense they would realize that letting the old man and whoever wins know he's out would be foolish indeed. It does make me wonder, though."
Tsuna glanced over for a moment. "Why the old man didn't insist a new Sky take over in his stead?"
"Mm. Maybe he wanted them somewhat crippled. If Squalo was too busy keeping things together, and Ottavio remained as his spy and to introduce issues to keep them off balance and less inclined to cause problems again for Timoteo, well…"
"How does that even work, by the way?" he asked, making careful mental notes about the room Xanxus was stored in.
"What?"
"The rings being blood-locked. If they were locked to Giotto's blood, then how did Ricardo and his line manage? Ricardo was a cousin, not a brother or son. Did they lock the Sky ring with a combination of blood or something? If it had just been Ricardo, there's no reason I should have been able to claim the damn thing."
Daemon eyed him directly. "That is a good question. Unfortunately, I was not present when it was done. I'd have to go with them doing it together. There is no other explanation as to why Ricardo and his line could claim it. Or, it was locked after Giotto, ah, retired, and Iemitsu has a skeleton or two in his genetic closet."
Tsuna snorted in amusement.
. . .
It was while Massimo was being transitioned into the role of Decimo that Tsuna and Daemon stepped Between and absconded with the ice-encased form of Xanxus.
"I wonder if he's aware of anything," Tsuna mused as he used his Earth Flames to position his once and never boss inside the cave they had chosen. "But I'm content to leave it as a mystery."
Daemon looked up from the letter he was composing (he had far better handwriting) and eyed Xanxus contemplatively. "We can hope not. Otherwise he would be in for a hellaciously boring existence—until he's unfrozen, anyway."
Tsuna grimaced. "Ugh, yeah. Now I hope he's not, too. At least we're helping his people to get him out of this way sooner than I expect would ever happen normally," he said, being careful to speak with delicacy in case Xanxus was able to hear them talking.
Daemon nodded and slid the letter over to Tsuna, who read it through. "I can only hope our suspicions are true. And that they don't need the Vongola rings specifically, though I expect that Mammon might be powerful enough to effect a temporary swap long enough to get the job done. Well, this looks perfect," he said admiringly. "But you do have a way with words I quite admire."
Daemon preened like the peacock he was.
"Okay. Let me drop this off to attract their attention and we can go."
"Dump it on Mammon's head. They at least will take it all in before reacting. Squalo would start yelling and attract too much attention."
"Mm, I agree. Okay, one second…" He carefully settled a pane into place so he could see Mammon's office—partly so he could see what he was doing, but mostly so he knew Mammon was even in there—and dropped the letter through Between so that it hit the Arcobaleno's head and slithered off to the side.
Mammon mouth quirked in their "I am puzzled-annoyed" expression and retrieved the letter. Their hood shifted up slightly as they read, denoting surprise.
Tsuna honestly wondered at times if the hood on the Mist's cloak was pure illusion and reacted in conjunction with movement of their face, as if it was anchored to their forehead.
After a pause, Mammon floated at double speed out of their office and to the right, presumably toward Squalo's office.
Tsuna shifted his pane of glass back into storage mode and, after a last look at Xanxus, headed out.
He had taken all of a half dozen steps away from the cave entrance when his intuition pinged oddly. Tsuna had only just looked up when he noticed something dark heading toward him at an alarming speed. He attempted to dodge, knowing it wouldn't be enough, and saw the alarm on Daemon's face.
Bizarrely, Daemon collapsed a split second before Tsuna died, having had his skull crushed by a tortoise dropped by an eagle. Presumably the bird missed the rock it had been aiming for to shatter the shell of the reptile.
