Chapter Summary: Your date is not a date, and you're a Gryffindor being Slytherin by pretending to be a Ravenclaw in order to appear Hufflepuff. Kacey vs. Mafia has entered a new phase, and the battle shall be fought with ping-pong.
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You have never played ping-pong in your life, and you tell Reborn so. If anything, this seems to delight him, and he promises to teach you everything. His infernal smirk does not inspire confidence.
"Delightful," you grit out.
"I am that," Reborn agrees without an ounce of shame. It's kind of impressive, really. In a horrifying way.
One date. Viper's forgiveness. Endure, Kace, it's just ping-pong, you tell yourself as Reborn steers you to the ping-pong place. You suspect you're going to be thoroughly humiliated in the near future. Reborn's sure to excel at this ping-pong stuff considering he was the one who brought it up; and while you have amazing, like, god-level hand-eye coordination, you doubt it'll be enough to last against the World's Greatest Hitman. Unless you cheat, of course. Just because you have to be on this date, doesn't mean you have to be a good date.
So you two enter the ping-pong hall.
And you discover that Reborn isn't prepared to be a good date either. Which makes way too much sense, considering the shit you pulled on him in the recent past. You've never been so close to regretting your life choices. You don't actually regret them where Reborn is concerned, though. He's just so much fun to mess with!
The hall is filled with people, and they've all been waiting for you, and there's seven Skies among them, led by a tall elderly woman with a small tattoo on her face. "Chaos, Donna Vongola," Reborn greets her nonchalantly. "How surprising to see you here."
"I do enjoy a good game of ping-pong," the woman replies, and her voice is devoid of the warmth Reborn's seems to always carry. Daniela surveys you with a disdainful expression. "This is the girl that's been causing such a ruckus? Doesn't look like much, does she." Titters and chuckles in her entourage. She's not even talking to you, she's talking about you.
Sodding hell, Kacey vs. Mafia's just entered another round.
But you are Acacia bloody Potter and you are no ignorant child anymore. You know exactly what's happening here - they want to cow you, prune you down to size, bully you, humiliate you; it's fifth year all over again. But what they don't know is that you've been through this shit already, multiple times in fact; after the war you weren't the hero to everyone. You know how this goes. And another thing they don't know is that your youthful appearance - you look eighteen-ish at best - does not match your actual age of almost twenty-five; they also think, since you're from a civilian background, that you must've had a sheltered civilian childhood - after all, if you're as young as you look, you can't possibly have taken part in the blood war. If they're actually aware of the full extent of the blood war, which you heavily doubt. Some of them probably don't know about it at all.
So yeah, you know the game. One thing Daniela was right about, though, you really don't look like much today. In preparation of your date (Ew!), you took an hour to search your closet for the most appalling clothes you own, in this case an oversized Chudley Cannons shirt the shade of which clashes horribly with your cropped-short Potter-messy hair, and a hideously frumpy librarian skirt Hermione asked you to take hostage so she wouldn't wear it anymore, especially not on dates with Ron. Ratty trainers once belonging to Dudley complete the ensemble that is suspiciously bulky in places because of the vast amount of sandwiches you're carrying. (Anyone else would've thrown those clothes away, but you're a hoarder; and you've never once thrown clothes or food for that matter away unless they were completely ruined, not after having so few things growing up.) The only nice thing about your appearance is a lovely pair of radish earrings Luna gifted you with, merrily dangling from your ears.
But it doesn't matter what you look like, or what Daniela di Vongola calls you - it's designed to make you feel like less. All of them saw the video of your battle, they know how dangerous you can be - or think they do, after all, you barely reached into your bag of tricks during that battle. They're doing this because they're scared, and they would like to feel powerful; also they must think they can solve the problem that is you right here.
Oh boy, are they in for a treat.
Because absolutely none of their tactics are going to work. The thing with encounters like this is that your counterparts only ever have as much power as you give them.
You appraise the present people, The Skies are without exception over the age of forty, though the Vongola woman is the eldest and most intimidating by far. They've brought Guardians with them, two each as far as you can tell, also all tall and intimidating; but not a Cloud among them. And then there are some men and women in the background that you're certain are Gifted. Some of them probably recruited from magical society - the big Mafia Families wouldn't settle for the barely educated and untrained Gifted raised within the Mafia, you'd wager.
"Answer when spoken to!" Daniela di Vongola snaps at you, rather unpleasantly pulling you from your musings. Bollocks, you missed the entire conversation. Eh, whatever, you doubt it had any relevant content anyway.
Daniela is obviously Cloud-baiting you - the term for setting off a Cloud by triggering their supposed natural instincts - and you are bristling inside. The whole situation, the crowd, the condescension, the obviously dangerous men and women, the goddamn Skies - oh yeah, this whole thing is a damn Cloud bait.
However, you also have damn good control over yourself - after the war, it took quite a bit until you couldn't take it anymore and your social life imploded rather spectacularly.
And the most important thing to remember here is this: They want a reaction. That's all. Any kind of reaction. Get angry - you give them power. Paddle back - you give them power. That's all situations like this really boil down to.
What you need here is an armour. An impenetrable political armour.
"Oh my," you say absently. "That is quite an infestation of Wrackspurts you have." And you smile airily at her left ear.
Her face. Her face.
It's a good thing you're channelling your inner Luna, otherwise you'd have broken down laughing at the look on her face. The other Skies don't look any better.
Reborn is giving you a wary look.
"Wrackspurts?" Donna Vongola asks, looking uneasy. Of course, she has no clue if Wrackspurts are actually a serious concern! Oh, this is great.
You draw out the silence until it's awkward. "Quite a lot of them," you announce dreamily. "It really is quite amazing, Davinella." You begin humming the tune of 'Weasley is Our King'.
"That's Donna Vongola to you!" Donna Vongola snaps at you, and you instantly resolve to call her Davinella forever. You keep humming and staring off into space. "And what on Earth are Wrackspurts?"
"Oh..." your voice trails off. "Of course, you can't see them..."
And you begin rummaging in your pockets, handing Reborn a number of sandwiches that are in the way. There are far more sandwiches than there should logically fit in your pockets, but Reborn manages to hold them all. Then there are other items - a chocolate frog, a tea spoon, a cursing chess piece (hey! So that's where it was!), and a Spiderman costume. Finally, you find what you're looking for. "Aha!" you exclaim vaguely, and hold out the old pair of Spectrespecs with attached Wrackspurt siphons. A very thoughtful gift from Luna.
Donna Vongola looks at them with a disgusted expression. They do look rather peculiar - a pair of very glittery glasses that will without fail make the wearer look like a demented, multi-coloured owl with insect antennae. "Go on," you encourage, focusing your gaze onto the old bat so intently, it'll make anyone uncomfortable. "You'l be able to see the Wrackspurts!"
"I will not!" the old woman huffs. "Answer the question, girl!"
"Oh my, they got you quite badly," you whisper in astonishment, and put on the Spectrespecs. They don't actually do anything, just enhance the colour violet in your vision and add funny colours around everyone. And they look cool, that's the best thing about them. Also, since they obscure your eyes completely, you can look wherever you want with no one the wiser. Absently you begin to pocket your miscellaneous items and sandwiches, gathering them from an entertained-looking Reborn. Donna Vongola is talking again, you're humming and determinedly not listening as you fill your pockets; until you suddenly straighten and turn your gaze on her.
And start the Wrackspurt-Wiggle dance Luna taught you. It involves turning on the spot slowly and wiggling your body and your arms independently from one another. You nearly punch Reborn, pity it doesn't connect, but then, the key to this dance is to do it slowly and look the partners in the eye during the times you're actually facing them. Donna Vongola is looking highly uncomfortable now, and you are enjoying this far too much.
Luna is a gift to humanity, you are certain of it, and you will tell her so the next time you see her. If she weren't such a great friend you would have married her. Alas, she's with Rolf now and very happy.
"What are you doing," Reborn hisses, seeing as everyone else is at a loss for words.
"The Wrackspurt-Wiggle!" you explain enthusiastically, and wave your fingers before his face. "To ward off Wrackspurts!" Which is bollocks, of course, the dance is just a dance, and the Wrackspurt siphons on your glasses will ensure the safety of your mental health from dastardly Wrackspurts in any case, but they don't know that. You grab Reborn's arm. "Join in!"
He gives you that incredulous stare that makes you want to crack up. Reborn is so funny! When he isn't terrifying or terrifyingly seductive, neither of which he is at the moment.
Alas, all good things come to an end, and Davinella di Vongola's hold on her temper is one of them.
Till now, you never had any idea what Viper meant when they said that Skies could force bonds. Because bonds are sacred, right? You make them over the course of years, over shared happiness and grief, over experiences, with people that mean something to you. Friendship and family, that is how you make them.
This, what Donna Vongola starts doing in this moment, it is blasphemy to everything you believe in. There's this feeling, like she's tearing and ripping at and smothering you at the same time, in a place deep inside you, like she's laying siege on your very soul. It chafes, it burns.
And then the other six Skies follow her lead and join in on the Break-Kacey-down bandwagon.
You keep smiling your absent Luna-smile while Reborn's bones began to creak under your fingers and your knees buckle. Cold sweat gathers on your skin. Is this what Atlas feels like while he holds up the sky? Except you're keeping seven Skies from crushing you which makes you way cooler than a mythological titan.
"Huh," you muse airily, and are viciously proud that your strain and pain isn't audible in your voice. Two of the Skies' faces are slowly turning purple, and Davinella is going suspiciously red. "A special breed of Nargles outside of mistletoe-habitat. Fascinating."
A Sky collapses. Another drops to his knees. You spare them a look. "Should have done the Wrackspurt-Wiggle while you still could," you tell them sagely, and nod proudly.
Reborn's hand gently covers yours that's crushing his arm. You keep smiling. If you don't keep your face muscles absolutely rigid, they'll slip and you'll start to scream. The Cruciatus Curse attacks the nervous system, what those Skies are doing goes far, far further. Your self has retreated to a deep safe space somewhere even deeper than they can reach. If the eyes are indeed windows to the soul, then they must look really empty right now. "Hi Reborn," you greet.
He doesn't look at all happy, curiously enough. "Let's go play," he says, and tugs you over to the ping-pong tables. Every step away from the Skies their attack gets weaker, and you finally manage to breathe again. Oxygen! The best things in life are for free!
Reborn hands you a ping-pong bat and begins to explain the rules and how to use the bat, not that you really listen, you're too busy enjoying the view of now three Skies attempting to catch their breath, two more leaning heavily against furniture or people, and the rest looking absolutely bloody furious.
Clearly, this round of Kacey vs. Mafia goes to you and your valiant companion-in-spirit, Luna Lovegood.
"Acacia," Reborn purrs. "Do you understand the rules?" He asks this in a tone that makes it clear that he knows you weren't listening. You should probably tell him that he's right about that, otherwise you're going to make a right fool of yourself.
Nah, admit nothing! Die like a man, woman, or person of non-binary gender identity! Cheers for gender equality!
How hard can ping-pong be anyway? All you have to do is get the ball to touch down on the other side of the table. Can't be that difficult.
Reborn begins and the ball comes flying at you with the speed of a bullet which makes no sense because it's a tiny plastic thing and the force with which it was launched should have crumpled it. Luckily your hand-eye coordination is at god-level and you actually manage to deflect the ball. In an astounding twist of fate, it goes nowhere near where it should and lands in Donna Vongola's eye instead. "My bad!" you shout gleefully, even though clearly the Wrackspurts are at fault.
Reborn gives you a narrow-eyed look. You return an innocent one which he can't see because of your Spectrespecs. Eh, whatever! He'll see you're innocent soon enough. See, it's just the arsehole Skies that get hit by errant ping-pong balls, no one innocent. You're practically a vigilante hero for hitting them, which is familiar territory.
"You're not very good at this game," Reborn remarks.
"Are you kidding? I rule at ping-pong!" you declare, twirling the bat in your hand and accidentally hitting your head with it. All intentional, of course, honestly!
"You have yet to score a single point," Reborn muses.
"I have the moral high ground, though," you point out proudly, and accidentally shoot a ping-pong ball into some dude's mouth just as he's about to unleash a spell on you. "Whoopsie! My fault entirely!" you shout across the room.
"I see how it is," Reborn muses idly. "You don't think you can win."
You laugh. "Of course I can win."
"Ho? I'm not seeing it." He shakes his head sadly as he serves the next ball.
Hahaha he doesn't see it. He must be blind.
You bat the ball back and add a nasty bit of spin to it. When it hits the table surface, it almost springs into Reborn's eye.
"Oh my gosh, what rapid improvement I am suddenly experiencing!" you exclaim, clapping your hands to your cheeks in shock. "This must, in fact, be a gift from the gernumbli! I have been blessed!" You clear your throat and begin to sing the Garden Gnome Song, a mournful tune that Luna composed and takes exactly seven hours and forty-two seconds to finish, twenty minutes less if you forgo the bagpipe-solo. Do you have bagpipes with you? No, you left those in your travel bag, drat, you should have listened to your gut instinct and packed them into your purse.
Reborn smirks at you. "How exciting," he purrs before you can sing more than two notes. Arse has no appreciation for the fine arts, uncultured buffoon that he is. "I wonder if it will last."
"It depends upon the constellation of stars, I wager," you tell him amicably. "Why, just yesterday I saw Jupiter and Mars standing at this angle-" You make a complicated gesture with your arms. "And just think about the state of the Milky Way!" You shudder, and pull out a Milky Way chocolate bar to show him the direness of the situation.
Reborn apparently has no words. You are doing good.
In lieu of an answer, Reborn bats the ping pong ball across the table, you counter it in what is probably an expert manner. You're a natural at this game, clearly. But Reborn has a wealth of experience on his side, and the ball comes flying back. You slam your bat at it with Seeker's speed. Ha! Take that, Reborn! Argh, damn it! He hit it back.
This is when things become intense. You've always been horribly competitive when it came to sports. And this isn't just about sports! It's a battle! A battle in which you stand for all that is good, because that is who you are and what you do, and Reborn is the avatar of the Mafia, and this battle will determine the course of this private war of yours against the dark forces that have ruled your people for far too long-
"Using guns is cheating!" you growl.
Reborn gives you a smug smirk, blowing the yellow smoke from the barrel of his gun mockingly, eyes pointedly indicating the smouldering hole the ping pong ball left in its wake. How did he even do that, by all means guns should be useless in ping-pong. "It's Mafia ping-pong, obviously it's well within the rules, Acacia," he points out.
In retrospect, you really should have listened to the rules. Cheating's totally okay, apparently! You're a Gryffindor, though. Gryffindor's don't cheat.
But, it's not really cheating if the rules say it's okay. Though you break rules all the time (also a Gryffindor trait!), so you actually probably shouldn't cheat. Drat, this thought progress has the potential to turn into a death spiral of doom ending in confusion.
Reborn smirks. That settles it, the smug arse is going down! Now how to do this... best thing would be if nobody figures out just how you cheated, so something subtle would be great... Oh yes, you know just the thing. Giving Reborn an obnoxious grin, you right your Spectrespecs, wandlessly and silently casting a spell on yourself.
A Confundus charm, to be precise. This might seem like a counter-productive spell to use on yourself, but it's actually a stroke of pure genius, which is what you are, a genius. For if there's anything that will allow you to realise your god-like hand-eye coordination's true potential, it is the ancient and most noble sport of Quidditch, and you've just confounded yourself into seeing all ping pong balls as snitches.
"Reborn, please don't take this the wrong way..." You give him an angelic smile. "But I'm going to destroy you."