Tsuna blinked. And again. The ceiling above his prone form was not of the depressingly familiar variety, which confused the everloving fuck out of him. There was no ceiling at all. He was also not five years old.
'Well, this is not what I expected.'
Tsuna screamed like a girl and bolted to his feet. "Kami-sama, now I'm hearing voices in my head."
'Indoor voice, please,' chided the increasingly familiar voice. 'I hear things at least twice as loudly in here.'
He huffed. "You fucking possessed me?"
'Yes, the second I realized you were about to die. I was curious to see if I could join you on your little jaunts. Apparently my plan worked.'
Tsuna heaved a sigh and looked around. He was in … Venice? He looked down. And currently dressed like a damn hobo. And either in his late teens or early twenties? Seriously? He shot a nervous smile at a passing gondolier and scurried off into an alley so he could "clean up" with some judicious use of Mist Flames until he could figure out what in blazes was going on.
'First goal,' he thought, 'find the date.'
'I approve.'
'Fuck my life, now my thoughts aren't even private.' He shuffled out of the alley in search of a newspaper or anything that would clue him in.
'I'll keep an eye out for a host,' Daemon assured him.
Tsuna snatched a newspaper out of the air as it fluttered by and checked the date. It was 14 October 1998. A glance at his reflection in a nearby shop window confirmed his impression of his age—though it still made no damn sense to him—at being late teens, early twenties. For the sake of simplicity he choose to believe he was eighteen.
'Next up, finding a place to live.'
'Unless you plan on trolling the Cavallone, we should look elsewhere,' Daemon suggested.
'Hm, maybe Rome? That's neutral, after all. I could set up a little business or something. We're decades earlier than usual, so… Wow, this is so weird.'
'Rome sounds good. If we're lucky we can find a suicidal Mist I can take over.'
He was about to ask why suicidal, but it made sense after a moment. He ducked into another alley and set one of his panes to view a spot he knew in Rome, to see if it was clear, then traveled through Between to avoid having to take public transport.
. . .
Judicious money laundering and sale of gold provided Tsuna with a hefty amount of starting cash, though investing was not quite as simple as he was used to. Thankfully, it was simple enough to find shady pawn shops to offload stolen goods at, and Tsuna was an old hand at liberating goods from nasty-minded people with too much wealth on their hands.
He was considerate like that.
He purchased a two story building in Rome, the top level of which was a two-bedroom apartment. The ground floor was being renovated with more stolen wealth into his business. One section would be a bakery, because Tsuna had learned to enjoy cooking after being on his own for so many years, and the other was a shop for antiques—or rather, old stuff—things he had picked up along the way that he felt would fetch a good price, but had not yet gotten around to fencing in a previous life.
That he had to get a license to sell guns was a mere trifle.
They were old, after all, sto—ah, acquired—from a collector of antique weaponry who also dabbled in human trafficking. Tsuna also acquired rather a lot in the way of blades and other interesting implements generally used to kill people. He considered them "quaint" if only because his flames were more than enough to off someone, and usually more discreet.
Daemon had found himself a stock broker who was down enough on his luck that he was nabbed while working himself up to leap off a very tall building, so the second bedroom had a physical tenant and Tsuna regained privacy in his own mind.
He did a weird body movement somewhere between a squirm and a shudder for a moment, having flashed back to that initial incident with Mukuro at Kokuyo, and blithely ignored the odd look Daemon tossed his way.
"What do you plan to sell in the bakery part?" Daemon asked, his expression reverting to its usual "I am evil, fear me" setting.
"Japanese sweets, of course," he replied. "What would be the point of yet another place selling Italian food? That'd be like selling Chinese food in China."
Daemon's eyes crossed. "I am beginning to think you're even more insane than I am, and that's saying something."
"I can't imagine why you think that. Oh, that reminds me. I never did check to see if I was a Sky again."
Daemon groaned. "You have got to be the oddest Sky I have ever met. You barely remember you have Sky Flames most of the time, whereas most people would kill to have them."
He wrinkled his nose. "I'm still not even sure what the hell the point is for those. Mist and Cloud are incredibly useful. So is Earth."
Daemon's eyes widened. "You mean to tell me—"
Tsuna sipped his oolong, one brow cocked up questioningly.
"You've never once harmonized."
"Um… I harmonized my way through a wall once, but I'm so used to using Between that I keep forgetting I can do it."
"Oh my lord," Daemon whispered. "Reborn has so much to answer for."
He looked up from his flaming hands. "Eh?" He had the full bunch again.
"The property of Sky Flames is Harmony, Heul, and when I say Harmony, I mean between people, between a Sky and his guardians. There is a…"
Tsuna shot his partner a skeptical look. "I don't believe for a second that there's some mystical connection between the crusty clam and his men. And if there is, there's also obviously some kind of feedback loop that causes idiocy to propagate and infect them all."
Daemon chortled. "Let me revise that statement. It is entirely possible that Reborn purposefully concealed that aspect of things from you on the old man's orders. Clams have a habit of assigning guardians based on their political value and not personal. The odds of a bond forming…"
"Still, a bond? Like the red string of fate or something? The very idea of being bonded to most of the people Reborn chose for me is horrifying. Even when Hayato was at his best, he still managed to say and do things that made me…" Upset might be the word, he supposed. Angry would mean he cared enough to work up to that, and it was hard enough as it was to care much after so many iterations.
The idea of bonding with a young man who saw him as a means to an end, a leg up to power, was ludicrous.
Nagi was a nice girl, but even when he got to her early on she still managed to form that weird bond with Mukuro, and Mukuro was always foremost on her mind, despite having become a guardian for Tsuna. He could never trust that she would obey orders, because he could not trust that Mukuro would, and Mukuro was always the one calling the shots for those two.
Takeshi was a nice young man, but he refused to use his brains most of the time, preferring to focus on something to obsess over, and Ryohei was not much better. Kyoya could be trusted to protect his self-proclaimed territory and maybe obey if it suited his mood, though it was a step in the right direction that he paid attention at all, so Tsuna supposed he must have impressed him to at least some degree.
Lambo was the one with the most potential, being so young when encountered, but Tsuna had always been the age of a boy himself. Expecting him to essentially raise his Lightning Guardian was just plain weird.
To top all that off was the disquieting knowledge that he and his "generation" were too similar to Giotto and his lot, as if they were a mere copy, and had no business being their own people. He got the sense that some people expected them to embody Giotto's generation; that was unacceptable to him and another reason why he hated the idea of bonding—though he was still unsure what Daemon meant by that exactly—with the guardians picked for him.
Not that any of that mattered this time. He was an adult and way too early for the usual sequence of events. He had popped in twenty years early, after all, so the sperm donor was a few years older than his current body. Tsuna snorted; he was scheduled to be born in two years.
"Clearly," Daemon said with exaggerated patience, "you would need to choose for yourself. Giotto's bunch was a mutual thing—well, nearly so."
"You only joined because of Elena."
Daemon's head dipped in a nod. "She convinced me to help her friend and his cause. And I will admit that Giotto's cause was admirable. Ricardo was a mistake."
"Unless I was—no, I'm not even going to finish that thought. Kami knows what might happen if I did."
Daemon smirked. "At any rate, bonding with a guardian involves a … a sharing of flames, so to speak. They entwine enough that you would always know where they were, and they you. You would feel them in your heart. A bond like that should be entirely voluntary, though there have been those who attempt to overwhelm a potential candidate with flames and force them."
"Why am I not surprised," he said. "And I'm going to guess and say you never harmonized with Giotto, because I can't see you having been able to betray him like that if you had."
"I did not, you are correct. I have never harmonized, only heard descriptions of what it feels like. I rather doubt anyone can possibly properly understand unless they've experienced it personally. I wouldn't doubt Daniella managed proper harmonization with at least some of her guardians, but…"
"She sounds like the type," he replied. "And being female, and given what was going on during that time period, would likely want that additional security it afforded. Well, if it happens it happens. I'm not about to go looking. I've done fine without it so far."
Left unsaid were the ridiculous deaths he had experienced, which may or may not have been averted if he had actually had proper guardians.
. . .
He was sipping some oolong in the "bakery" part of his shop when an oddly familiar man wandered in looking as if he had just stepped off the cover of a high-end men's magazine. Dark, wild hair, a sharp fedora with a pale yellow band, a suit so obviously tailored it practically screamed wealth, and polished leather shoes that would not dare show a hint of anything but perfection graced the man's lean form.
Tsuna was given a brief and ultimately dismissive glance before the man strolled over to the display of antique guns in the "old things" part of the shop. Tsuna was treated to an understated display of weapon worship as the man investigated what was on offer, all while trying to figure out why the man seemed so damn familiar to him.
Daemon strolled in from the storage room, paused for slightly longer than seemed comfortable, then got himself a cup of tea and joined Tsuna. "I see we have a potential customer," he murmured.
Tsuna shrugged, his eyes flicking from his paper to Daemon to the man before coming to settle back on Daemon. "He seems to like guns."
The shop did very slow business, but given that they had only just opened recently, that was not surprising. That they had a customer at all was nice, though not required. It gave Tsuna more than enough time to lay in supplies and experiment with using his Earth Flames on molten metals in lieu of a proper mold, mainly to cast parts for replica guns. It was good exercise, so to speak.
Oddly-Familiar raised one hand in a gesture that clearly stated the man was used to people leaping to assist him. Tsuna shot him an unimpressed look and slowly set down his cup and saucer, then slowly strolled over to see what he wanted.
Up close he could see that Oddly-Familiar's eyes were sharp and cold and black as a sunless sea. "Yes?"
The man indicated a British Revolutionary War Era Flintlock Dublin Castle Light Dragoon Pistol, circa 1770, listed at ₤4,615,800.
"What about it?"
"Do you honestly expect your customers to pay prices that outrageous?" the man asked, his brow cocked up in an expectant, almost condescending way.
Tsuna paused to think about when he had acquired the gun and realized he had based the price on the wrong year. "Let me check something," he said, and wandered off without waiting for a reply. He slid aside a panel in one of the walls to reveal a screen and keyboard, which he used to check the rate of inflation over the past decade in Italy, so he had something to use as a baseline to calculate the amount backward.
The collection had been acquired in 2008, which meant he had to account for a decade of inflation to adjust the price lower, to be more in line with prices in 1998. What a pain. And what a pain to have a collector who was savvy enough to notice the issue and assume Tsuna was trying to gouge him.
Back at the customer's side he said, "I suppose we could haggle."
That started a spirited session where Oddly-Familiar offered a sum way too low and Tsuna countered with something not much lower than the original price listed, and it went from there. Tsuna was pleased that he managed to get the man to agree to ₤4,590,000, the amount he had calculated shortly before, rounded off to make the numbers look prettier.
Things would only get more odd once the country converted to euros a few years on, which would mean—should he live so long—he would have to calculate everything again, and he never was a fan of maths to begin with.
Tsuna packed the gun away in a tissue-lined box, which went into a crisp white bag, and accepted the man's credit card so he could run the sale. Once everything was set and signed, he handed back the card and offered Oddly-Familiar the bag, Samsara's violet and indigo logo stark against the white.
Oddly-Familiar swiftly tucked his card away and accepted the bag, then glanced over at the bakery.
"Everything is made in-house," he replied to the unspoken question. "Though, there is no drinkable coffee, of any kind."
Oddly-Familiar twitched and nodded, then departed.
"You still don't recognize him, do you," Daemon said.
He shook his head. "He's oddly familiar, though."
The Mist snickered madly and refused to say anything more on the matter.
. . .
Oddly-Familiar was back a month later to make eyes at the antique guns still on display. Tsuna had long since recalculated the listed prices, leaving enough room for haggling. Given that all of it was acquired anyway, any price he got would be profit, but one did not get a good reputation by demonstrably being an idiot.
Tsuna was enjoying the newspaper crossword with a side of dango and was mildly irritated that he would probably have to get up to see to the snob in his shop. He got the sense that Oddly-Familiar could back up the arrogance he radiated, which was more than he could say for too many. His intuition was pretty clear on that, and that the man was a Sun, which would explain that pale yellow band and the matching shirt.
Oddly-Familiar (Tsuna hadn't even glanced at the name on the credit card and expected it was false, anyway, so why bother) felt like the biting rays of a scorching sun, as opposed to the kinder life-giving and healing ones, though he didn't doubt the man could go either way as needed.
If the man wasn't active Tsuna would be highly surprised.
That hand went up again, the silent demand for attention, a demand that expected obedience. Tsuna slowly took a sip of his tea and slowly picked up a stick of dango, then slowly wandered over while savoring the taste of his snack. "Hm?"
He was given an irritable look in return. Apparently the man was quite unused to people not leaping to serve him. "Your prices are still too high," Oddly-Familiar complained testily.
Tsuna smiled serenely, then popped another sphere of dango into his mouth. After swallowing he said, "How kind of you to let me know." He ignored the sudden sound of amused snickering coming from somewhere nearby, alerting him to the fact that Daemon had returned.
Oddly-Familiar scowled at him.
"How else am I to amuse myself if I cannot indulge in haggling, Ki-san?" he asked, smiling serenely again. Might as well have fun with stereotypes. Fon, those times he had seen the man, had always worn traditional raiment, so there was no reason Tsuna couldn't wear various yukata, though most of the ones he picked up on an impromptu shopping trip had a base colour of violet and obi in indigo.
Daemon thought he was being too overt in advertising (some of) his flame types, but Tsuna expected that most people wouldn't get the hint. Clouds were not the type generally to run a shop and personally deal with customers, after all, and Tsuna was aiming closer to "sober, mature businessman" than "brimming with youthful stupidity".
Another spirited haggling session ensued, with Oddly-Familiar scowling the entire time. Tsuna thought he detected a hint of amusement in those cold, black eyes as the man countered swiftly and decisively each time Tsuna named a figure. Oddly-Familiar strolled out shortly thereafter with another crisp white bag dangling from his long, elegant fingers.
. . .
He was doing yet another crossword puzzle when a young woman strode in briskly. She had blue-black hair that was more blue than black, tanned skin, and a no-nonsense attitude radiating off her. After a brief glance at him she beelined for the display of depression glass.
Tsuna had acquired that from another fellow along the way—during his Varia life, maybe?—and saw no reason not to put it up for sale. It was nice enough, he supposed, and definitely collectible, but he himself had no particular interest in the stuff.
The woman did send more than a few glances over at the weapons on display, though the most she did during that visit was make a few notes about the glassware before departing. It was not until Tsuna had moved on from the crossword to refreshing his tea that he realized he knew who she was, having remembered her appearance during his Varia life, toward the end: Lal Mirch of CEDEF.
Or, she would be, assuming things went the same way.
He had no idea what her real name was. Maybe, if she returned and purchased something, he would find out.
When she did return she came with a man. He had pale blond hair, light blue eyes, and a presence that was a curious dichotomy of tough and puppy-ish. Tsuna's eyed widened slightly as he recognized Colonnello.
No matter what angle he examined the world by, things were different. People he knew as Arcobaleno were not, which meant it had yet to happen. But he was certain that in other worlds it already had happened. So either different people had been chosen in this dimension, or the timeline was shifted.
He thought back and nearly slapped himself in the face. Oddly-Familiar was Reborn. Why were Arcobaleno candidates appearing in his shop? He was just some random fellow from Japan! A suspicious look was sent at Daemon, whose smile said "I have no idea what you're on about, but I'm sure I wasn't at fault", before he eyed up his two customers again in bemusement.
He had no idea those two were inclined to homey behavior such as shopping together. He was under the impression that Lal was the poster child for tsundere everywhere, so this—? Strange. Bizarre. Peculiar.
Maybe her personality had warped after the induction?
He smiled serenely and rang up their purchases, depression glass for her and an antique gun for him. Colonnello didn't even try to haggle down the price and was practically giddy over his new acquisition. She paid cash, but Colonnello used a card. The name on it was Illario Gallo. He knew they were military Before, so it was most likely his actual name. He was probably from the northern parts of Italy, though not definitely.
After they left he turned to Daemon expectantly. "Who are they now? And how does that differ from before?"
"Those now are the ones I remember as the ones previous to these," Daemon replied.
"So things have shifted. It's yet to happen. We have time?"
"Assuming Talbot knows anything of value and we can get it from him, without alerting anyone. Of course, depending on what we can get and how this goes down, you may never know them in this life."
He nodded. He had never been given a chance to become attached to people, not really. "Does Talbot even have active flames?"
"He didn't when he first joined Vongola." Daemon looked thoughtful for a moment. "He was around Giotto's age in appearance. I never once saw him show he was active, though he was extraordinarily good with metals."
"Apprenticed to a blacksmith, maybe?" he suggested.
Daemon shrugged. "One would imagine. It never came up, as he was fairly reticent about his past. Of course, if the possibility you brought up is true, he could be thousands of years old and decided that appearing old is amusing. Maybe he learned smithing because he couldn't go active?"
"Unfortunately, Checker Face wore gloves, so I couldn't see if he wore any rings. I definitely don't recall Talbot wearing any," he said, trying his hardest to remember. "Well, he had what looked like tattoos on his fingers—but maybe they were rings. Whatever those were, they were ornate."
"They were rings," Daemon confirmed. "But again, I've never seen him wield flames. Maybe he has some odd affinity for metal and…" His lips pursed. "Crafting implements to link to a particular flame type? Without being able to use them himself. More like…"
"White?"
Daemon nodded after a moment. "If taken to mean all colours, yes, rather than black."
"Spies first, I suppose. If any of them notice something I can check with my windows. Er, assuming you know where he lairs."
"He is not a bear or a troll," Daemon said with a roll of his eyes, then paused. "He might be a troll, actually, now that I think about it. In any case, yes, I do know. I'll open a window so we can both see, which will allow you to look on your own and drop spies. And if you're nice to me and bake me a cheesecake, I'll even show you where on a map."
He grinned. "Sure. Anything special?"
Daemon's gaze wandered off to the side, then snapped back. "Some kind of berry compote as an optional sauce."
"All right." Daemon had a not-so-secret love for blueberries, and was fine with raspberries, so Tsuna thought a compote of those two, some ginger, and maybe a splash of orange juice would work out beautifully.
. . .
When spying on Talbot's workshop and home produced no appreciable results, Daemon took the next step forward and impersonated someone high up enough in Vongola that it would not be seen as remarkable.
Apparently, accelerating Flames of the Sky amplified them. Who knew? Well, if they were accelerated to a high enough speed. He felt a bit flustered over the idea of having to acquire something like the Tevatron, a circular particle accelerator, to get all seven flame types to go fast enough to amplify them, never mind what sort of installation would be necessary to handle the whole thing, who would oversee operations, and so on and so forth.
Tsuna was a damn good thief, but that was beyond even him.
The only reason he even knew about it was being bored enough to keep an eye on scientific journals after an article in the newspaper caught his eye. He had dabbled in computer programming and hacking simply due to boredom. In general, however, he resorted to thievery, spying, and killing defective humans when he had nothing to occupy his attention.
Of course, that made him wonder… If his stash Between carried over despite the dimension, did that mean he could purposefully reach Between into alternate dimensions? Say, thieving a whole bunch of stuff from defects from a few dimensions back to sell in his shop?
No messy entanglements with the police, other mafiosi, or worrying about leaving behind any clues?
A devious smile came to his face as he decided to set aside some time to test that theory.
Reborn swept into the shop as Tsuna was about to start a new crossword, which annoyed him on the one hand, and promised the potential for amusement on the other. Reborn went straight to the guns on display—like there was possibly anything else which could hold his attention, pfft—and started to make Tsuna fear for the guns' virtue by raping them with his eyes.
'I really do wonder at times if he has an entire building or basement set aside just to display his treasure vault of guns,' he mused, sipping his tea as he considered the current clue of "subordinate". It was nine letters long and the last letter was "y".
When Reborn finally did gesture, Tsuna took his own sweet time getting over there, whereupon he opened his mouth and said, "No."
Reborn paused, the faintest hint of confusion flashing by.
"I'm not selling you a gun today," he added. "I have decided, Ki-san, that you have insulted my shop by refusing to purchase anything to eat, therefore you may not buy a gun."
"…What?" Reborn's eyebrow cocked up in a gesture of irritation.
"Ah, I was unaware that you are hard of hearing, Ki-san," he said serenely. "I shall endeavor to raise my voice in the future."
"You're not even from this country," Reborn finally said. "Why on Earth would I want foreign food?" He said it like there was something diseased about other countries, but Tsuna could detect amusement again in the man's eyes.
"Because to choose otherwise would prove you to be a bigoted fool, Ki-san?" he riposted mildly. "I have decided. You shall have some cheesecake," he said, then turned away and strolled toward the bakery section.
"Cheesecake?" Reborn muttered. "But that's Greek in origin!"
Tsuna paused long enough to look over his shoulder. "So? Greece is not Italy." Once he got to the counter he cut a thin wedge each of Japanese cheesecake and New York style and placed them on a plate, grabbed a dessert fork, and ferried them over to his table. He sat down and stared at Reborn expectantly.
The Sun deigned, after a somewhat disbelieving pause, to join him at the table.
"Wave your magic wand over it first to be sure it's not poisoned," Tsuna said, serene smile firmly in place, as if he wasn't mocking the hitman's justifiable paranoia.
Daemon chose that moment to wander out of the back room and beeline to the bakery for some cannoli, and then join them. He prepared himself a cup of tea and began to eat.
"How do you like the touch of cinnamon I added?" he asked.
Daemon nodded, swallowed, and said, "I wouldn't say no to you trying with that compote you made."
He hummed, pretending not to notice when Reborn sent a nearly imperceptible wash of flames over the cheesecake before deciding it was safe enough to eat. "I could do that. I wonder how it'd taste if I mixed some lemon curd into the cheese. And baked them for five or ten minutes."
Daemon looked intrigued. "And then also the compote?"
He shrugged. "It could be interesting Mm, I think I will try that. If it turns out well I could offer them for sale. Perhaps." He turned to Reborn and asked, "Is the cheesecake acceptable, Ki-san?"
"It's all right," Reborn drawled.
Tsuna's smile widened; that was practically glowing praise from the Reborn he was accustomed to. "Now that you have proven you are not a shinigami, alien, gaki, or other odd creature, you may purchase a gun today if you wish."
Reborn gave him another well-disguised look of disbelief, then nodded and went to go moon over the guns on display, though he was nice enough to bus the plate and fork back to the counter. Before the man left, he ordered half a cheesecake to go.
. . .
He was surprised, one day, when a sudden storm swept over Rome to drench its streets, and with it brought a green-haired man with glasses into Samsara. Verde had a slightly contemptuous look on his face—either he hated the décor, or the name of the place for being rooted in religion. Mr Scientist was probably not much for religion.
Neither was Tsuna, but considering his experiences…
Verde scowled when he realized there was no such thing as coffee served in the shop, and settled for tea. He spent his time there taking angry sips and scowling at the rain dashing against the front windows.
On a whim Tsuna drifted over and asked, "Midori-san, are you familiar with particle accelerators?"
He was almost sorry he asked when an hour later the scientist was still rabbiting on about the damn things. "How small can they get?" he asked when Verde paused to refill his tea.
"They're getting smaller all the time," Verde assured him, "though the large ones are necessary for proper research. Why do you ask?"
"A side project of mine. I was trying to come up with ways to amplify something and stumbled over particle accelerators. I realize they may not be quite the thing, but…"
Verde got a look on his face that spoke of deepening curiosity, but was distracted when something chirped. A scowl erupted as the green-haired man fetched a cell phone out of his pocket and glanced at the small display. "Ah, I must be going," he said, stashing the phone. "If I remember, I'll come talk to you again."
Tsuna watched as the man bustled out and disappeared off to the left.
. . .
He was in the middle of baking when Tsuna noticed a very subtle waver in the air nearby. Someone was spying on him and it did not feel like Daemon. That he could feel it at all meant it was highly unlikely to be Checker Face. He kept a mental eye on the thing as he worked, deftly tossing together any number of goods, both for the shop and personal consumption.
Daemon wandered in and didn't seem to notice the spy lingering nearby, but Tsuna doubted the man was that undiscerning. The Mist smirked at Tsuna's flour-dusted appearance and snagged an apple slice to eat. "I tracked down better sources for matcha and lychee."
"So I'd no longer be getting gouged on the price?" he asked, playing along for the moment. If he was suspicious enough he would equate those to Verde and Fon, based on the colours. "You would think they've give a fellow Asian a break."
Daemon scoffed. "A proper businessman will gouge anyone but his own people, his workers."
"What, because well-treated workers make more money for him?"
Daemon nodded.
"Oh," he said with fake wonder. "So I've been bribing you with good food? And here I mistakenly thought I was just being nice."
The Mist gave him a knowing look. "I also sourced more of that depression glass. A nice, fluffy, little old lady with no idea just what she's had gathering dust in her attic. She was thrilled to sell it all to me. She wants to buy more fabric to make quilts for her grandchildren, you see."
Antique quilts were also highly collectible, but that was something of a cutthroat business, surprisingly.
"I hope you were at least vaguely generous."
"Of course, Heul! But not so much that we don't have a healthy margin for profit."
The LED equivalent of a light bulb went off for Tsuna as he realized the spy was very likely Viper. Did that mean the meetings and missions had already begun for the next set of sacrifices? That Viper was investigating where several of their comrades had already visited?
He hummed and narrowed his eyes slightly. "When can we expect delivery?"
"It's already in the back. I didn't want to chance someone cluing her in to the actual value inside those dusty boxes."
"All right. Soon as we close up for the evening I'll inventory your find. Just as well. My current stock is almost depleted."
"Yes, that woman…"
The spy stuck around through closing and observed as Tsuna got to work unpacking Daemon's find, carefully washing everything, cataloging them, and preparing price tags. The handwritten invoice Daemon had left on the desk back there was checked over, noted in the books, and filed. Tsuna was beginning to get a bit annoyed at the constant surveillance, but for so long as it was there he couldn't do anything to provoke much suspicion.
"Yeul!" he called out. "I'm going to grab a shower. If you get things prepped I'll start dinner after I'm done."
"Of course, darling Heul," was called back.
They had an agreement. Tsuna could cook—heaven only knew why so well, though Daemon insisted it had something to do with his Sky Flames—and Daemon was horrible at it, so Daemon agreed to do prep work in order to pull his weight.
When he entered the apartment kitchen he eyed things and nodded. Daemon was in the mood for cottage pie, it seemed. With baked beans straight from New England. He assumed—probably rightfully—that Daemon had reached Between to nab jars of the stuff straight out of the manufactory. It may have been a mistake to teach him that trick, but he wasn't about to try to erase it from the man's memory.
Speaking of which… 'That spy is damned inconvenient right now.' But he could approach his question from another angle. "Yeul, have you seen your twin of late?"
Daemon eyed him blankly for a long moment, then smirked. "Not recently. But you know how they are."
He nodded, pleased that Daemon had understood the real question. "Dinner will be ready in about forty-five minutes."
"I look forward to it."
Tsuna had shortly assembled the savory pie (he put some garlic into the potatoes on whim and sprinkled chopped spring onions on top) and shoved it into the oven, then set the table. With nothing to do for the next space of time, he settled in with a book of crossword puzzles while waiting for the timer to go off.
It was not until after he had laid down to sleep that night that he could sense the spy departing. He waited an additional half hour before acting, and tossed up a Bounding Box around the first floor to avert any other spies which might come to call, and went to find Daemon.
"My twin, as you put it, is currently up to no good in Sicily, maneuvering the Nasso Famiglia into a situation which will likely see them destroyed, or at least hemorrhaging assets. Couldn't happen to a nicer family."
"And why is he doing this…?"
Daemon gave him a look.
"Right, clams. So is it just me, or do you also think that was Viper spying on us?"
"Definitely Viper. And why do you suddenly have that guilty look on your face?" Daemon gazed at him intently, eyes practically boring into him.
"Eh… Wondering if I should warn any of them. The fact that Viper showed up makes it likely that they've already gathered and Viper got curious. I'm wondering if we should have spies on them, hidden at the edge, so they don't notice."
Daemon's gaze shuttered in thought. "You're asking this because Checker Face annoys you, or you feel some fondness for the people you once knew, or…?"
"All of the above?" he said quietly. "If we can figure out how to make the Arcobaleno Curse unnecessary, though not in time, I expect they would suffer quite a bit of pain, anger, bitterness, and betrayal, but… People can recover from that, learn from it, grow because of it."
Daemon rolled his eyes at that. "I will never understand you."
"Do you plan to do anything about your twin? Can you even merge with him? Would it … alter you … negatively?"
"Aw…" Daemon fluttered his lashes. "You don't want anything bad to happen to your best friend~!"
Tsuna looked away for a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"I haven't decided what to do about my twin, not yet. I had completely forgotten until you brought it up, which is rather surprising now that I think about it. After all, I am hard to ignore."
"A legend in your own mind," he said facetiously, a serene smile settling at his mouth.
Daemon pouted; it was disturbingly cute. "Don't worry, Huel. If I choose to track him down, I am confident I could either absorb him or make him see the light, much as you did for me."
"Somehow, the very idea makes me feel dread, as if your plan might involve pretending to be Elena's ghost and shaming him into compliance."
"Excellent idea! But to get back to the other subject," Daemon said. "You don't have any real connection to these people. If you warn them now, Checkers might catch on."
Tsuna grimaced. He really did not want to be scared to death again.
"I wouldn't say anything," Daemon continued. "Once we have it figured out, we can move forward. If we're lucky, it'll happen before they get…" He shrugged. "And if not, we'll simply have to find them after the fact and effect a cure."
"…Okay. And really, they have no reason to trust me, anyway. I'll just stay on guard in case Viper sends more spies."
. . .
Lal was delighted to see more depression glass and promptly jotted down prices (presumably so she could work out a new budget to pay for it all) and Colonnello drooled over the guns. Sadly, neither purchased anything there, but they did decide to grab a dozen each of bruttiboni and something he called flu-fighters to take away.
Reborn wandered in, shot another dismissive look his way, and went to eye rape the ranged weaponry again. That would have been fine—because he would have undoubtedly initiated the usual in a bit—had Verde not trundled in looking to continue their earlier, rather one-sided discussion.
There was one of those awkward moments when Reborn and Verde noticed each other, and then everything went back to normal, as if the other did not exist.
"Tea?" he offered.
Verde grimaced, but nodded, so Tsuna poured him a cup of oolong and brought over a plate with cannoli on it.
Verde briefly displayed a faint, pleased smile (Tsuna tucked that tidbit away for future reference) and said, "You wanted to amplify something?"
"Mm, yes. But I don't know if it would be possible. The very name 'particle' accelerator makes me wonder."
Verde's brow crinkled. "What are you trying to do, exactly?"
"A type of energy which, when accelerated, will amplify."
Verde had a sip of his tea and set the cup down thoughtfully. "Such as use of a particle accelerator to amplify the speed … but with something like kinetic energy?"
"…Yeah," he replied. "But a particle accelerator is kind of already imparting kinetic energy to … particles?"
Verde sighed and shook his head. "Yes."
"I guess the problem on my end—aside from not being well grounded in sciences—is that I don't actually understand what energy is," he said, a frown wrinkling his forehead. "I mean, I understand the term kinetic energy, if in relation to something like a ball rolling or throwing a punch, but what is it? Or light? Energy can be measured, but is it in any way physical?"
"No, energy itself is not physical. It's more accurately described as a property of a particle or a system. Consider that… All right. You throw a punch. But aside from physically moving your body, you are also pushing molecules of air and imparting force to them."
"So…" 'Well, shit. I don't see how I can ask what I want to ask without letting on that I know about flames.' "Waves are water molecules—and salt and other stuff—but the movement comes from the effects of gravity due to the moon … I think … and that movement creates energy you can harness with whatever. Not physical. Hm."
Flames could heal or burn or disintegrate or directly affect someone's mind, but what was it? Aside from Reborn once saying it was a manifestation of the soul, of resolve, a … a conversion of life force to an effect? Though, he considered, it made more sense to think of it as energy extant in the body being employed for other means.
"I'll have to think about it some more, I guess," he said.
Verde nodded, in a surprisingly not condescending way, and said, "If it helps think of electricity, which is a form of energy resulting from the existence of charged particles. Also, there is something not quite the norm about these cannoli."
"Hm? Oh, that might be the cinnamon. There's a touch in the chocolate. I was consi—" He was interrupted by that arrogant hand movement by Reborn. He hummed. "My apologies, Midori-san. I need to see what Ki-san wants," he said quietly. "He's quite fond of guns, it seems, so I expect he wishes to purchase another."
'Electricity is linked to charged particles. Does that mean it would also apply to flames?' he wondered as he slowly strolled over to Reborn. 'Are flames charging … something … some kind of particles, and that results in colour and effect? Or something? Either way, if so, in theory I could accelerate them, which should amplify them, if what Talbot said is correct.'
"I would think you're incapable of walking at a normal speed, but I've witnessed you doing so," Reborn commented. He seemed half amused and half irritated.
"Hm? I wasn't sure if you were signaling to me or swatting at a fly, Ki-san. In my confusion, I apparently walked slowly."
Reborn snorted and pointed at one of the guns, then named a figure. Another spirited haggling session ensued. Once at the register he added two portions of tiramisu to the bill. Tsuna included a cannolo for free, which caused the man to cock an inquiring brow at him.
"I was experimenting," Tsuna said. "There is both cinnamon and coffee in the chocolate. Give it a try and let me know what you think should you visit again."
The brow went down, though Reborn's eyes went ever so slightly narrow in presumed suspicion or paranoia. "Sure."
Tsuna smiled serenely and finished running the card—he still had not bothered to so much as glance at the name—and packed everything up in boxes, which were tucked into a crisp white bag.
Verde trundled over to the counter once Reborn had left and said, "Unfortunately, I only had a few minutes to spare. I really liked the cannoli, so I'd like a dozen to take with me."
"All right, and I'll throw in a free one that has coffee in the chocolate, as well, so you can see if that's also acceptable." They were tucked into a box and inserted into a bag, and Verde was shortly on his way, a spy shadowing him.
He would have to be careful, in case Checkers was keeping an eye on the bunch, not to get too close to their meeting place. He wouldn't be the least bit surprised if… What was her name again? Lucia? No, that wasn't quite right. Luce. Skull had said Luce.
Luce was most likely keeping the group in line, and preventing them (presumably) from asking too many questions. For all he knew, part of her job was to attempt to harmonize with them, though (presumably) she already had guardians. Mafia boss, hello? The very idea of her not already having guardians was ludicrous.
At any rate, it was possible that she was supposed to use her Sky Flames (somehow) to keep the clueless sacrifices in line, even if actual harmonization was most likely off the table.
'Damn it, I've gotten off track again,' he thought.
. . .
Tsuna was mildly surprised when a very familiar Chinese man glided in a few weeks later. Fon glided over to the bakery section and aimed a serene smile at him.
Tsuna returned the serene smile with one of his own. "Greetings. How can I help you?"
"An acquaintance of mine recommended this place," Fon said. "Raved about the food."
He nodded and gestured at the display. "Please feel free to browse the selection. If there is anything in particular you would like that we don't sell, it is possible I could give it a try."
Fon nodded and took a few minutes to run his eyes over the cases, then said, "A half dozen pineapple tarts and the same for the mantou."
Tsuna quickly had those tucked away into boxes and then into a bag, and Fon (who paid cash) was shortly on his way. 'I'm starting to think I'm fated to meet these people. Although, it's almost odd that he didn't stay long enough to have a cup of tea.'
He was sure of it when Skull turned up. The Cloud was loud and excitable, so nothing much had changed—so to speak. "Cheesecake!" Skull cried, flailing his hands around.
Tsuna stared at him blankly.
"They said that cheesecake came from here!"
'Verde did buy an entire cheesecake a while back and had it with him when he went to what I presume is their meeting place. I guess he shared?'
His serene smile slid into place and he gestured at the display cases. "There are several varieties to choose from. We also sell jars of various compotes you can use as a topping."
Skull's eyes went wide. "Do you have a raspberry one?"
He nodded. If he didn't know better he would swear he could see stars form in Skull's eyes.
"One, um—" Skull glanced at the display again. "New York-style cheesecake, and one jar of raspberry compote."
"Certainly."
Skull was shortly away, clutching his bag like it held the Holy Grail or the Hope Diamond—except neither of those could be eaten.
A month later (he was starting to wonder if he and Daemon would ever figure out how to accelerate flames) the entire group sans Luce showed up and commandeered two tables.
Tsuna blinked. "The usual?"
Everyone but Viper nodded.
"And for you, Kakusu-san?" he asked, doubting he could get away with using information from four lifetimes ago without calling undue suspicion on himself.
"Something with strawberries," was the succinct reply.
"Hn. All right. I'll be back shortly." He trotted off to get a tray so he could load it up with various sweets. Viper would be getting a strawberry shortcake puff and a vanilla cream fruit tart. Along with the food he brought two pots of oolong and enough cups.
Once he was done delivering the goods, he trundled off to a table far enough away that any normal person would not be able to overhear any conversation. The key word being normal. He, of course, had spies listening in at each table, in case anyone said something interesting.
'Maybe I should have learned to read lips,' he thought as he worked on a crossword puzzle and listened to the transferred conversations. It seemed they had just completed some mission or other and were celebrating, sort of. They were being appropriately cagey considering they were in a public place, so there was a lot of interpretation on his part.
It was clear that Reborn still found Skull to be odious, or at least laughably unpleasant, but they were seated at different tables, so the odds of property damage were low. The point being, they were already in serious danger of being chibi-fied, and he had not thought to ask the Skull from two dimensions ago how long they had done missions prior to being turned into batteries.
Viper apparently approved of his baking, as when they all decided it was time to leave, they also decided to get food to go, asking for a half dozen each of what Tsuna had chosen to serve him. Were it not for the fact that he was selling bakery-type things in his shop he would have tried seeing if this Viper would also fall in love with the strawberry-kiwi-spinach salad (with raspberry vinaigrette) he had stumbled over back then and shared one evening with the Varia core members.
He watched them go with a sense of frustration.
. . .
"Do you think you could get more information out of Talbot without him getting uppity? Such as what could be used to accelerate flames?" he asked.
Daemon slid a bowl of freshly mashed bananas his way. "Possibly."
"And possibly what the deal is with the Flame of Night? They use it to warp, I know, but is that also responsible for how they can capture people with chains? What are its properties? I don't think we can flat out ask the Vindice and get an answer aside from, 'I have just the cell for you'."
"The Vindice existed prior to Talbot ever showing up, but considering how long he's been around… Now I wish I had paid more attention to them, in a fact-gathering way, rather than how best to avoid them while doing things of a questionable nature."
Tsuna sighed and added the bananas to the batter he had going in a stand mixer. A minute later he was scraping batter into loaf pans, and then shoving them into an oven. He washed and dried his hands just in time to hear the door chime go off, so he strolled out into the shop to see Skull gazing at the display cases.
"Greetings," he said quietly.
Skull startled and shot him a wide-eyed look. "Oh. Hiya!"
"Good to see you again," he said kindly. "Here to try something new, or are you in the mood for cheesecake again?"
"Um…" Skull glanced at the cases.
"There's no rush," he added. "If you have questions, just ask. And, hm. I'm willing to give samples if there's something you're curious about, but aren't willing to go in blind on."
Skull raised his brows. "I heard cannoli is sorta similar to cheesecake…?"
"Mm, sort of, but not really. The texture is a bit different and it's… Have a sample," he said, then grabbed a napkin so he could fetch one and hand it over.
Skull had a bite and immediately brightened. After he swallowed he said, "I see what you mean. And it's sweeter than I expected."
"…Are you not from Italy, then?" he asked, both remembering what the Skull of two lives ago had said and taking note of the fact that Skull seemed to have little clue about Italian desserts.
"Technically, yes," Skull said after another bite was consumed, "but my family moved to France when I was still quite young, and neither of my parents was much of a cook."
"Ah, so more crème brûlée and profiterole than tiramisu and zeppole."
Skull nodded. "I like this, though. Um, can I get half a cheesecake, a half dozen of these cannoli, and a jar of raspberry compote?"
As he boxed up the order he asked, "So what brought you back to Italy? Decided to see what your birth country was like?"
"Uh… Yeah, yeah," Skull said unconvincingly.
"Well, everyone needs a holiday now and again, right? You taking a long break from work, or…?"
"…Something like that," Skull said slowly. "Guess you've never heard of me in Italy, huh?"
Tsuna adopted a blank look. "I only recently moved to this country, and I don't get out much," he sort of lied.
"Oh." Skull looked relieved. "I'm a stunt man. The Immortal Skull!" He looked so innocently proud that it verged on adorable.
"Are you really?" he asked curiously. "Immortal, I mean." He wondered if Skull's ability to bounce back from practically any injury had everything to do with Cloud Flames, and not because, oh, Death refused to take him or something similarly bizarre.
"So far," Skull said cheerfully, but did not elaborate further.
"Huh. Did they make you take a bunch of fighting classes, or is it all just stuff like falling off buildings and car crashes?"
"Oh, um… Yeah, no, no fighting, exactly. I do get to substitute in for an actor taking a punch, or the other stuff you mentioned. Wearing a wig can be a pain, and I hate sitting still for all the makeup work beforehand."
He grimaced. "That sounds hot and uncomfortable, and it already gets hot enough in places without all the extras."
Skull nodded. "Yeah. I don't mind a bit of flash in everyday life, but the prep for a role can be nasty."
Tsuna eyed the violet liner Skull was wearing, expertly applied, and the purplish stain on his lips. "I can't imagine that takes more than a few minutes to do. The hair, though, I should think would be a bother every so often."
Skull got that look on his face again, the hesitant one. "Yeah… Touch ups every few weeks."
Tsuna knew damn well the colour was a natural result of the man's flames. He was mildly surprised his own hair wasn't a bizarre conglomeration of colours at that point, but the brown he had sported in all his lives went decently well with all the colours of his flames. He still wished his eye colour was more interesting, though.
"Did you have to go to a school or something to learn how to do stunts?" he asked, mainly to keep the conversation going.
"Not exactly," Skull said. "I had a job with an outfit in Paris, doing stunt riding. Someone in the business noticed how, uh, durable I was and made me an offer. So I did get training, but it was more an on-the-job thing."
"Cool," he said. "It must be nice to be recognized for native talent and to be assisted in developing it, plus get paid. Sounds like a sweet deal."
"Yeah!" Skull said enthusiastically. "It's loads of fun—minus the makeup and wigs. I get to do a lot of fun stuff and help make movies look really cool." Something twittered and Skull checked the phone he produced from a pocket, then took on a downcast expression. "Ah, I gotta go."
Tsuna smiled and handed over the bag of goods, and accepted the cash for it in return. "Enjoy. And if you're feeling adventurous next time…"
Skull grinned and nodded, then hastened off.
Daemon had given him a smug look a bit later, but deigned not to explain why, instead saying, "I found a higher up Vongola about to take a holiday to parts unknown—one of the hidden retreats they like to reward good work with—so I plan to borrow their appearance to have another chat with Talbot."
"Hopefully he won't be commenting on these visits to the Vongola," he replied. "Either he hasn't bothered previously, or he did and he's playing it low key, waiting to see if whoever it is is a traitor or really good spy." He didn't doubt for a second Daemon's competence and deviousness, but he had no clue what Talbot was truly like under his wizened old man appearance, and what he might do if provoked.
"Should he already be suspicious and set up some kind of trap, I can just go Between," Daemon pointed out.
"Assuming you aren't knocked unconscious. Though I guess in a pinch you could just abandon the body and find a new host."
"Because those are just cluttering up every intersection and park," Daemon said dryly. "But yes, I would do it if necessary. It's not like I haven't had to regularly swap bodies, anyway. They do age, after all."
Tsuna became very curious at that point. "Do you even know how to die?"
Daemon gave him a wide-eyed look.
He thought about what he'd just asked and hastened to clarify. "I don't want you dead, I just… I mean, are you even capable of dying at this point? I'm still not really sure what happened that one time with the Daemon I originally knew. He just… It was like sand or something. Particulate Mist? I don't know. But he kind of disintegrated and blew away on the wind. I'm not even sure he really was dead, just that he released Mukuro's body and left."
Daemon looked thoughtful at that, but for all Tsuna knew, the man could be contemplating what he wanted for dinner that evening rather than the rather weighty topic at hand. Finally he said, "You keep changing the subject. So, I'm going to try with a different face. It may take a while, since it's not the sort of thing a person comes straight out and asks. Need to ease into it."
He nodded. "All right. I don't need to say it, but I will anyway. I know just how skilled you are. But be careful."
Daemon gave him a carefully blank look, then dipped his head in a nod.
. . .
"So, where did you learn how to cook?" Reborn asked him as he indolently lounged against one of the display cases. His brow was cocked up again.
"Nowhere, really. I learned due to need. Or rather, Ki-san, because I did not wish to always rely on others to do so for me. It's nice to take an afternoon or an evening off on occasion, and eat out, but the majority of the time, well… How do I know what I like if I don't take the time to experiment on my own?"
"So no fancy school for you."
He shook his head. "I doubt I'd survive one," he said, only partly joking. "I've heard it's quite cutthroat. I wouldn't doubt some students stab each other from behind like budding assassins, just to pick off their competition and gain more time with their teacher's attention."
"Well, someone's overly dramatic," Reborn drawled in amusement. "Though I suppose it would be out of character for a chef to use a gun."
"But not poison," he pointed out. "Still, a knife is practically innocuous, much like a gun—or do I mean to say ubiquitous? Though, I've heard that there are police types who can figure things out from the bullets they find."
Reborn nodded. "Yes, they can. Generally the type of gun used. Also, the angle of attack, and from that, a good idea of where the shooter must have been."
He hummed. "I read a story once… A murder mystery, sort of. An impossible murder, supposedly. But it turned out that a particular blade was used, shoved through a keyhole—one of those old fashioned types—into the victim as they came to look through the peephole to see who had knocked. They came to that conclusion based on the shape of the wound, the location of it, and the angle."
"Clever killer."
"Mm. I expect one would have to be, unless they intended for a long stay in a deeply unsatisfying, government-run 'hotel'. But I think we've gotten off track. Was there something in particular you were interested in? Eating, that is," he amended.
Reborn smirked. "I'm interested in a lot of things. As for food… I did like the coffee you added to that cannolo. What other tricks do you have?"
"In any particular direction?" An open question like that tended to make him incredibly indecisive; there were far too many options to choose from.
"Brownies, cake… I have a powerful liking for chocolate. I like the contrast between the darkness of coffee and the sweetness of other things. I definitely liked the touch of cinnamon."
"…I think I have an idea of what I could try," he said. "But for the moment…"
Reborn nodded and swept his gaze over the display cases. "A dozen croissants. I'm curious to see if they're as good as the real thing, or merely adequate."
"You've clearly spent time in France, then," he replied as he moved to box up the order.
"Ah, yes. I'm half and half."
His brow went up. Half French, presumably. And with that accent, probably half Italian, or had an exceptionally good teacher, and/or a good ear for languages. The box of croissants was tucked into a crisp white bag and placed on the counter.
Reborn flipped out a credit card seemingly at random to pay with. Once again, Tsuna did not bother to check the name. He just ran the card and handed it back. The signature on the resulting slip was always nearly illegible, anyway.
"Give me a few weeks to experiment," he said. "Not to say you shouldn't stop by, but it might take me a little to figure out something new—or at least, that I've never seen as a recipe anywhere."
Reborn nodded and strolled off.
In the end he came up with two things, two ways. Brownies and chocolate cake, each with what could only be described as rivers of gooey cinnamon-infused coffee and chocolate. The second version of each had pureed raspberries in them, just to see how it would taste, after adjusting for the additional "liquid".
He had just pulled the last of his test batches out of the oven when the door chime went off, so he wandered out to see Reborn eye-raping the guns again. He hesitated for a moment, then turned back around to get samples of all four sweets, for him and for Reborn, and brought it all out on a tray.
"Ki-san~!" he called.
Reborn glanced over his shoulder and noticed the food, then turned and strolled over. "Is this it? So quickly?"
"It's the first test batches after I worked out recipes. I figured since you showed up at exactly the right time, we could try them together. So…" He indicated four plates set aside for Reborn and said, "Two variants of each," then picked up one of his brownies and bit into it.
He didn't much care for coffee, but even he had to admit it tasted pretty good. The cinnamon was a bit lost, though. Tsuna nodded and tried the other one. The raspberries added a nice extra bit of flavor, but again, the cinnamon was a bit lost.
A glance at Reborn showed that he had an interesting expression on his face. Tsuna couldn't quite tell if Reborn was pleased or what, so he moved on to sampling the cake versions. Only one of the pieces had icing, since the raspberry version had only just come out of the oven and he really didn't want the buttercream icing to melt.
He looked up again to see that Reborn's expression had morphed into one of open pleasure. "I think it's not a bad start," he commented.
"It's an excellent start," Reborn said swiftly. Clearly he quite liked them if he forwent drawling somewhat diffident praise in favor of such decisiveness.
"Well, if you want the rest of the test batches, you're welcome to them. I can tell I still have some tweaking to do with the cinnamon. Anything beyond that and you'd have to pay like normal."
"Are you sure we couldn't work out some kind of deal?" Reborn said almost seductively.
Tsuna laughed merrily, which caused Reborn's eyebrow to twitch. "Are you flirting with me, Ki-san?"
"What? No…" Reborn's expression was somewhere between annoyed and chagrined.
Tsuna laughed some more. Reborn was a lot of fun when he wasn't being entirely a trollish dick. "You're very charismatic, Ki-san, but you'd have to offer more than flattery."
"Such as…?" A steady tic seemed to have taken root near Reborn's left eye.
"I'll make you a deal, Ki-san," Tsuna said silkily, a serene smile sliding into place. "Prove to me you can become a trusted friend to someone, with their trust returned by you, and I will give you one day per month of any sweets you want from here."
After a surprised and annoyed pause, Reborn immediately set to haggling. They eventually agreed to one day each fortnight. Tsuna had the sneaking suspicion that Reborn was up to something, but what…
Either way, he packed up all the test batches into boxes (that he labeled quickly with a pen) and eased them into a Samsara bag for ease of carry. Reborn wandered off radiating smugness, despite having forgotten he had originally been eye-raping the weapons again.
He got an inkling when Reborn was back barely a week later, bearing an invoice and a pile of boxes filled with goods. "I expect a twenty percent commission, of course," Reborn said smugly.
Tsuna blinked several times before he took a good look at the invoice. It was for a collection of … antique quilts? He didn't even want to know where Reborn had found them. The man's persuasiveness alone explained how he had managed to get them for such a good price, but twenty percent as a commission? Pfft.
After a spirited round of haggling they settled on seven percent, with a bonus of a once-per-week free meal at Samsara for a month (based on how many Tuesdays there were in a given month, as the current day was a Tuesday) per deal—and those freebies could be stocked against future use, so they would not go to waste if Reborn was busy elsewhere for some time, such as on one of his (not so) mysterious missions.
Reborn claimed one of those meals right then, and surprisingly asked for something Japanese, and not sweets.
Tsuna dithered for a few moments, then invited Reborn to not only help shift the goods to the storage area, but to join him in the kitchen upstairs in the apartment. Daemon showed up long enough to help with moving the quilts, then took over out front.
"Anything Japanese?"
Reborn shrugged. "Something you like. That way, I know you'll make it with your full attention."
"Uh…" He glanced around the kitchen area, then shook his head. "All right. Oyakodon it is this time, with miso soup. Feel free to grab something to drink from the fridge," he offered, then set to work.
Reborn fetched himself a soft drink—Tsuna was nice enough to point out the cupboard which held glasses if the Sun wanted one—and poked around in his kitchen, though never getting in his way. Reborn seemed surprised by the contents of the pantry for some reason, but voiced no comment.
"Daemon" appeared right as Tsuna was getting plates and bowls ready and stayed only long enough to retreat with a tray. Reborn was either not sensitive enough to realize "Daemon" was a mere construct of Mist-Earth Flames, or chose not to remark on it. Then again, Daemon was an exceptionally good Mist, and if Tsuna could fool Reborn with Mist…
Tsuna delivered the food to the table and smiled as Reborn took a seat, then poured himself a cup of genmaicha, plus one for Reborn to try if he liked. "Enjoy," he said, then tucked in. That Reborn clearly had experience with hashi was of interest, though it was not the fluidity of a native or one who had used them regularly.
"This is excellent," Reborn commented between bites, a slight smile gracing his mouth.
Tsuna was just surprised that Reborn hadn't even tested the food for poisoning before tucking in.
"So what is your friend to you?" Reborn asked.
Tsuna paused, hashi half-way to his lips. "You know, I'm not entirely sure. He's my friend, definitely. Family in a way, like a brother, perhaps? He's devious and he's wicked, but he has my back, and I have his."
Reborn nodded. "And where in the Mists of time did you encounter him?"
Tsuna's brow went up slowly. A civilian might pass the phrasing off as melodramatic, but for him it came across as a subtle way of pointing out that Reborn had clued into at least one of them having Mist Flames, if not both.
"…At a play," he said, which in its own way was as much of an illusion as one produced by flames. "A telling of events long since past, a bygone age, the truth of which has been … distorted, shrouded." It was true on two levels, depending on which dimension he reflected on, and the angle at which he reflected. "I don't remember precisely how long ago, though." Which was also true, as he only knew in general if one took precise to include things such as the exact millisecond, and if he was counting from the start of his original life, or the life in question.
"A play." Reborn sounded mildly disbelieving.
"Mm. How did you hear about us—or rather, this place?"
"I didn't. I was walking down the street and spotted the antiques on the wall."
"And being the gun nut you are, you came in," he teased.
"I am not a nut," Reborn said stiffly, though his eyes showed amusement.
"Clearly you are if you can appreciate my sense of humor."
"I'm flexible."
Tsuna laughed merrily. "Ki-san is flirting with me again~!"
A very faint "Kufufufu" drifted up from the ground floor, which only made Tsuna laugh harder.
Reborn scowled and continued to eat, though his expression relaxed at his enjoyment in the food. "What other cultures can you cook from?"
"Ah, mostly Japanese and Italian, though some English and French. I have eaten the food of many countries, though. I have been to many countries, but I chose to settle here, in this nice city, where nothing much happens."
Reborn got the underlying message, he could tell, that of Rome's neutral status in the mafia. Reborn might go so far as to interpret that as a statement of personal neutrality, of being a certain kind of safe in terms of mafia machinations. Time would tell.
"What about you?" he asked in turn.
"Ah, I've been around," Reborn said easily. "Seen plenty."
"I imagine your avaricious desire for weaponry has taken you many places. I still wonder at times if you have a house somewhere in the wilds, with a cellar tricked out with displays for all your beloved guns, where you go every so often to set aside your burdens and relax."
"Burdens?" Reborn said disbelievingly.
"Burdens," he repeated. "Burdens, responsibilities, fears, obligations…" He shrugged. "We all have them, just some of us hide it better, right?"
Reborn got an odd look on his face, as if he was really looking at Tsuna for the first time, not just seeing the glossy surface of a youthful face and quirky behavior.
Tsuna wondered at times what people saw when they looked in his eyes. Did they see the weight of years and broken lives? Or did they see what they thought was some emo young man caught up in his own pitiful, transitory misery? Could Reborn see his worry, fondness, respect…?
"That is why life has such amusements," he continued, forcing his tone to be much lighter. "Such as the amusement I get from watching you drool over the antiques, or from haggling with you, or watching your attempts to flirt with me~!"
Reborn snorted and looked away, down at his half-finished meal. "You're delusional, Viola."
"No," he said softly, spooning up some of his soup. "That's one thing I'm not."
. . .
He didn't see any of them again for a month, and when he did, it was all of them, back to celebrate another successful mission. "The usual?" he asked. When everyone nodded he strolled off to prepare two trays to deliver.
Once that was done he reclaimed his seat and picked up his pencil. He had a crossword puzzle to conquer. He wondered at times why he was being so laid back this time around, instead of pushing much harder for a resolution to his ultimate goal, or learning more languages. But the break was nice. And he wasn't alone, so he was in less danger of going batshit insane again.
Tsuna looked up in surprise when Reborn abandoned his team mates to come sit with him. "Couldn't resist, Ki-san?" he teased once he regained his composure.
Reborn rolled his eyes. "You're incorrigible."
His serene smile slid into place. "I try, Ki-san."
"And that," Reborn protested.
"Hm?"
"I don't even know your name."
Tsuna blinked innocently. "I do not know your name, either, Ki-san."
It was Reborn's turn to blink, probably due to his arrogance and assuming that simply everyone knew of him and would recognize him. "Reborn."
"…As what?" he asked with a tilt of his head, deliberately misunderstanding.
There was a pause, then Reborn's mouth twitched. "You may call me Reborn."
"Ah. You may call me Heul. But your name… Hm."
Reborn's brow went up. "What about it?"
"I think…" He eyed his erstwhile tutor. "I shall remove the boring part of your name and call you … Ren."
Reborn twitched again, though that time Tsuna couldn't tell why. He would have to ask Daemon later what it was he was missing.
"In private," he added.
"And should I assume that your name is a stealth pun?"
Tsuna laughed merrily.
Reborn hummed a bit sourly. "In any case, is there anything in particular you'd be interested in in terms of putting up for sale?"
He shrugged. "So long as it's collectible, it probably doesn't matter. And not embarrassing. Or too big to fit through the door. Or—"
"I get the picture," Reborn interrupted. "I'll keep an eye out. Wouldn't do for my favorite annoyance to not have the opportunity to amuse me."
Tsuna beamed. Reborn had openly admitted to liking him. It was the first time ever! He had finally pierced that stubborn resolve and gotten an admission out of the man.
"I thought I'd come back tomorrow for a meal," Reborn continued. "I was thinking … Chinese."
He nodded. "Any particular dislikes?"
"I'm not fond of organ meat."
Not really an issue with most Chinese dishes he was aware of.
"And I'm not much for so much spice that it blanks out the flavor, or spice that numbs."
He nodded again. That cut out a number of things, or would at least require tweaking. "I'll make sure to have something ready to cook."
"All right. I'll come shortly before closing," the Sun promised, then gave him a nod and returned to his teammates.
Fon lingered when the others left, to state, "You have a supplier for the tea."
"Hai, Aka-san. I can arrange for more such that you could purchase a supply for yourself more easily, if that is your desire. I know how deeply unsettling it can be to live in a foreign place with no easily obtained comforts of home."
"I would appreciate that."
"Certainly," he said, serene smile sliding into place. "Let us bargain."
Ten minutes later they had a deal worked out, and Fon happily enough departed clutching a crisp white bag holding the lifeblood of Asia, and some sweets for good measure. Tsuna could do things the proper way and travel like a civilian, but that would be a foolish waste of time. He would compromise, instead, and travel Between to stock up on more tea, plus supplies for dinner the next night, rather than simply reaching through Between to acquire the goods.
He left early the next morning, purchased any number of interesting things, and was back inside of an hour, in plenty of time to finish the baking and open the shop for the day.
Reborn showed up about fifteen minutes before close and, after a long look at the guns on display, took a seat at one of the tables to wait.
It had been a slow day, so Tsuna simply closed up early, not wanting to bother Daemon. His … brother … always left a spy at home, mostly in case Tsuna needed a hand with something, despite Tsuna having learned how to fashion a "clone" of himself. Having a spy handy, though, meant they could open communications at a distance far more easily.
"So what are you making?" Reborn asked as he settled in with a soft drink.
"Guo bao rou," he replied.
"And that looks like pork…"
"Hai. It is kind of like sweet and sour, but… Well, I like it."
Reborn liked it, too, once they sat down to eat and the man had the opportunity to try it. Reborn spent the meal trying to weasel Tsuna's source for antique weaponry out of him, and Tsuna amused himself by deliberately misunderstanding half of what the man said. Reborn seemed torn between annoyance, frustration, and a grudging respect for Tsuna's tactics.
. . .
"I found a lead on new things for the shop," Daemon said, reaching out to steal a handful of blueberries from the ones Tsuna was about to make a compote with.
"Oh?" He scowled at his "brother" and pulled the containers closer.
"An estate sale which, for the moment, is only in the planning stages. If I get there early enough I could be persuasive and buy the whole lot, obviating the need to bid against others in an attempt to secure the goods."
The main reason Daemon even bothered was because it never hurt to have verifiable sources on the books in case the government came poking into the shop's finances looking for evidence of tax evasion or resale of stolen goods or whatever. That and it gave him something to do in between visits to Talbot and general chaos.
"Sounds good," he replied. "I'd like a break, so I think I'll go along. It's been quite a while since I've wandered."
Daemon nodded. "Certainly. I'll set up an appointment. We can close the shop for that. It's not like losing a day of business will have much impact, after all."
"Things have been surprisingly relaxing this time around," he commented. "Almost like a rest period. It's … nice," he said as he started in on the compote.
A week later they arrived at the site and entered the building. Several things happened all at once, seemingly. Tsuna felt a sudden premonition of doom ice down his spine at about the same moment he saw someone who looked suspiciously like Talbot exiting the entryway, and then his world was all but vaporized in a horrific crossfire of bullets.