A.N: Only 2 reviews for the prev chap? Ouch, you guys. :'(

XXV

Of the Wind and the Mist

"Do you think fire is alive, Tsubame-san?" Fon once asked her as they took a break for training. It was day two of ten, and he had instructed her to build a fire using some of the resources available in the woods nearby. It had taken half an hour, but she finally got it going.

"No?" she said uncertainly. "I mean, it doesn't have a mind of its own or anything…"

"Neither do plants," countered Fon, "but people still consider it a living thing, do they not?"

"I guess."

"Fire… It's almost uncontrollable. What starts off as a small flame can escalate into a wild blaze within moments. Do you know why?"

Tsubame took a moment to stare at their campfire, listening to it crackle and snap as it ate up the sticks fuelling it. "It gets stronger the more it consumes," she murmured.

"Consumes what?"

She shrugged. "Wood, sticks, anything burnable, really."

Fon closed his eyes and assumed a meditative stance from his position across her. "In the end, what made your fire come to life? Was it just the materials you gathered from the copse of trees over there?"

Well, that was all she thought she needed to do, but then Fon had given her a hint. "You told me to blow on it," she said, "when that little stream of smoke came out. So it needs air to thrive as well."

"As all living things do," Fon concluded with a small smile. "Did you bring the plastic fan like I asked?"

Nodding, Tsubame dragged her backpack over. In it were a bunch of nutritional snacks to restore her energy and promote the healing and development of her muscles, several bottles of water and a change of clothes. She slid her hand into the back pocket, where the promotional fan Fon had given to her long ago was being kept, and handed it over to him.

It was kind of awkward giving Fon something that was taller than him, but she knew that, while he had the body of a child, his strength was that of a fully grown man's – just like Reborn. Arcobaleno, Mukuro had called them. Gokudera explained as much as he could about the Extraordinary Eight, but even his knowledge was limited.

"While air can certainly fuel a flame," began Fon, fanning the fire twice and watching it grow, "it can also extinguish it just as easily." He wrapped both hands around the plastic handle and jumped high, spinning as he landed. The wind from the fan overwhelmed the fire to the point that it flickered out, leaving nothing but charred wood behind.

"Wind Flames are perhaps the most crucial of the eight. They affect almost all of the other elements, and so are useful for strengthening other fighters."

Tsubame frowned. "So basically, I'm a support type?"

"You could be, yes," acknowledged Fon. "And in some cases, that is all Wind Flame users are. But what most people don't realise is that the Wind can be so much more. The Sun Flame is the only one that can heal people instead of harm, and some of the best fighters I know are Sun-based."

There was something about the way Fon delivered his speech that made Tsubame wonder. "Shishou, are you a Wind type too?" It was doubtful, since his pacifier was red, the colour symbolic of the Storm, but…

"Close," he said, bowing his head. "I'm predominantly Storm, but my secondary is Wind. The two often go hand-in-hand, which is another reason why the Wind is so dismissed in our world. Even Primo's Wind Guardian wasn't taken seriously until her time was almost up."

Tsubame reacted visibly at that. "Her? The Guardian was a woman?"

Amusement danced in Fon's eyes. "So shocked despite your very situation?"

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Didn't the first generation of the Vongola exist, like, a hundred years ago? I'd imagine it'd be hard for a woman to be taken seriously then, especially as a Mafioso."

"It was. It was also a major factor as to why the general public refused to believe she was a proper Guardian – well, that and the fact that no one else possessed Wind Flames at that time."

"Really?" Tsubame glanced at her hand, as if she could conjure up her own Flames at a moment's notice. "Are they that rare?"

Fon nodded. "Pure Wind Flames are the second rarest after Sky Flames. I'm aware of less than thirty users in the world including you, Tsubame-san. I wouldn't be surprised if the Varia themselves were bereft of a Wind Guardian. Especially since…"

When Fon didn't pick up from where he left off again, Tsubame prompted him with a, "Especially since?"

But he simply gave her that secretive smile of his. "It is not my secret to tell. Now," he added, clearly changing the subject, "have you ever heard of a tessen before?"

Fon had been right, in the end.

Tsubame felt scammed, even as the Cervello handed her the other half of the Wind Ring before Ryohei's match against Lussuria. She had won by proxy, because apparently the Varia were too good for a Wind Guardian.

"What do we need a Wind Guardian for?" Leviathan had jeered when she expressed her discontent over the easy victory. "All you Wind Flame users are only good for support. We, the Varia, are strong enough individually that we don't require any back-up whatsoever."

Reborn gazed at the other Arcobaleno in the vicinity levelly. "Are you sure that's the only reason, Viper? Or is it Mammon now?"

The cursed being with the Mist pacifier curled his lip in response. "A fine will be incurred each time you use that name," he informed him.

"Isn't that great, Tsubame?" Tsuna asked, trying to sound upbeat. But everyone could hear the undertone of worry in his voice. "This way, you don't have to fight."

She pursed her lips even as she twisted her now-complete Ring around her finger. "It doesn't seem right," she said. "It's not fair for everyone to have to fight for their prize except for me."

"Don't count your eggs just yet," warned Reborn. "It's common for the showdown between the Sky Ring holders to involve the entirety of the Family, not just the boss. We have no clue what the Varia has planned."

If it was anything like Lussuria's match with Ryohei, then it'd be completely underhanded. The moment the Cervello had announced the commencement of their battle, the LEDs built into the ceiling of the boxing ring they were in were turned on, flooding the area with enough light to power all of Namimori for several days straight. Everyone had to don sunglasses in order to see, including the combatants themselves. It was no problem for Lussuria, who was never bereft of his red-rimmed pair, but Ryohei was forced to squeeze his eyes shut to keep his corneas from being burnt then and there.

Despite the enormous set-back, Ryohei had triumphed in the end. Unfortunately, their good luck didn't hold for long.

Lambo had fallen to Leviathan, and he would've been murdered outright if Tsuna hadn't slipped into Hyper Dying Will mode and intervened. By doing so, he had forfeited his own Ring. Whatever progress Ryohei had made was upended in the span of ten minutes.

Worse still, Lambo still had yet to wake from his coma. It was a harsh wake-up call for them all. They'd never had such close brushes with death before, not even when they had marched straight into the trap known as Kokuyo. Whatever delusions they had about an unscathed victory had promptly fled their minds as they returned to training with renewed vigour.

Everyone except her, that was. After declaring he could teach her no more for the time being, Fon had left town to attend to some business of his. Tsubame's life fell into a new routine: wake up, go to school by herself, drop by the hospital afterwards, and then head home.

Her visits to the hospital grew prolonged as each day saw a new casualty. Gokudera's condition hadn't been as severe as Lambo's, but he definitely had more than a few shallow cuts, as he was so insistent on claiming. Watching his battle had been the worst so far for Tsubame, if only because the arena practically screamed 'Wind Guardian oriented'. The air vents that shot out bursts of her own literal element was like the cherry on top of the sundae dumped carelessly onto her.

"That's a little melodramatic," muttered Tsuna.

Tsubame glowered.

Since the boys were otherwise preoccupied with their battles, Tsubame spent her breaks at school with Kyoko and Hana. But even they were more subdued than usual, affected by the tension in the air that had existed ever since the day Squalo had terrorised the town square two weeks back.

Kyoko poked at her lunch with her chopsticks. "Are you going to see Lambo-kun this afternoon as well, Tsubame-chan?"

Tsubame nodded. "Yamamoto, too."

Her grip on her utensils tightened almost audibly. "Him too?" she gasped, horrified eyes imploring Tsubame for an explanation.

Hana slammed her hands down on the desk they were sharing, startling the other students who had chosen to stay inside for lunch. "Alright, enough's enough," she snapped, ignoring everyone outside their small bubble. "What on earth's going on, Tsubame? First you quit pilates, then you and the three stooges skip school for two weeks, and now you're all returning half-dead? Sumo competition, my ass. Those monkeys might be fine with lying to us, but we expect better from you."

Normally, Tsubame would've responded with equal fervour by fighting fire with fire. But there was barely even a spark left in her these days. "Not here," she murmured, all too aware of the prying eyes and ears around them. "I'll explain at the hospital."

With all the calm and poise of a lady, Kyoko collected her things and tucked them away into her schoolbag. "Let's go, then," she said, pushing her chair back.

As they made their way to Namimori's central hospital, Tsubame thought furiously about what she should tell them. Kyoko—and Hana, to an extent—had a right to be know what was going on, especially since Haru was already cognizant of anything and everything that occurred in the shadier half of their lives.

Then again, there was a reason the girls had been kept in the dark as long as they had been. Once they understood the slippery slope they were walking on, some part of them would be lost forever – their innocence. And while their lives were far from simple, the weight of what they knew would always drag on them.

They hardly needed to check in with hospital staff; the receptionist knew Tsubame well enough to let her in without fuss. Dino's men lurked around the floor Lambo and Yamamoto were situated on, and they too let her pass. Kyoko and Hana tensed noticeably as they walked past the suited men, something that lingered in her mind longer than necessary.

The ward assigned to Lambo was almost oppressive in its silence. The only sound that pierced the cold room was the beeps of the machines he was hooked up to as well as his quiet, steady breathing. The Bovino Family representative nodded at her in greeting before leaving in respect to their need for privacy.

"What's with all the scary-looking men?" murmured Hana as they sat around Lambo's bed. "They're all wearing fine suits, too. It's almost like…"

"Like they're in the mafia?" concluded Tsubame. She looked away from Lambo's prone form to lock eyes with Kyoko, and then Hana. "That's because they are."

Kyoko breathed out a shaky laugh. "That's funny, Tsubame-chan. Did Reborn-kun get you in on his make-believe as well?"

In her mind's eye, Tsubame could see two paths laid out in front of her. She could accept the scapegoat provided by Kyoko and laugh it all off, citing an accident as the reason why everyone was so injured. But then what? Their scuffle with the Varia wouldn't be the last Mafia-related incident to pop up into their lives, and anyone with basic information gathering skills—which was essentially just asking around with a town as small and open as Namimori—would know that Kyoko was as tangled up in the whole mafia business as anyone else was, being the sister of a Guardian and a friend of the others.

Tsubame reclined into the stiff, uncomfortable plastic chair offered by the hospital. "Due to certain circumstances, Tsuna has found himself one of the only living heirs left to succeed one of the biggest mafia families in the world."

"The Kokuyo incident," Hana said slowly as she the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "Was that a mafia thing too?"

"Pretty much," sighed Tsubame. "And right now, there's this other group of Mafioso who want to succeed the Family. The only way to decide who gets the throne is through a showdown. Hence the wounds," she added, brushing some of Lambo's hair away from his face.

"I…" Kyoko fiddled with the hem of her skirt as she mulled over her words. "I've always suspected something was going on. My brother isn't the best liar in the world, you know, and it's actually kind of insulting that they think I buy their crazy stories all the time," she said with a small chuckle. It was so lifeless compared to her usual tinkling laughter.

"I'm surprised you've never confronted them over it," confessed Tsubame. If she were in Kyoko's place… Well, that was best left unexplored.

Kyoko lifted her shoulders in a miniscule shrug. "My brother's been keeping secrets from me ever since he got in his first fight. I get where he's coming from, since I can be a huge worry wart, and I always give him the chance to be truthful with me."

"Like on Monday," realised Tsubame. "When you came to the school at midnight while Ryohei was in the middle of his fight…"

"He's a good brother," Kyoko said earnestly. "His lies aren't designed to hurt me. He just wants to protect me. I just wish he realises we're not kids anymore; I won't cry every time he gets hurt."

Hana reached over to squeeze Kyoko's hand in a comforting gesture. "You haven't told him this, have you?"

She smiled sadly. "We're not as close as people would think. It'd be an awkward conversation to have."

"So you're not going to let them know that, well, you know?" asked Tsubame.

"Not yet," decided Kyoko. "One day I'll have to, but not now."

Privately, Tsubame hoped that day would escape them for just a while longer.

"How are you feeling?"

Despite the bandaged eye and the multiple lesions decorating his weary body, Yamamoto managed to smile brightly at her. "Yeah. Thanks for visiting, Tsubame."

Tsubame mustered a smile in return, although it was far dimmer than his. "Anyone else visit?" she asked, watching as he slowly pried himself out of his bed. He had changed out of his hospital gown, fortunately, and was wearing loose and comfortable clothing.

"Yep," said Yamamoto, now on his feet. "Dad came this morning and gave me some new clothes. As well as some decent food."

Hospital food, Tsubame thought with a grimace.

More than one person stopped to stare at Yamamoto as they made their way to his home. Tsubame couldn't blame them, not really – how could a guy as mild-mannered as Yamamoto be involved in a fight that left him temporarily blind in one eye?

"Are you staying over for dinner tonight?" Yamamoto asked, diligently ignoring the whispered comments.

She shook her head. "Every time I do, your dad makes me eat so much I end up getting super bloated," she replied with a heavy sigh.

Yamamoto laughed. "My bad. You shouldn't come in; he'll make you take away some sushi before you even say anything."

Ugh. After working at TakeSushi, Tsubame could honestly say she'd be happy if she never saw a piece of nigiri or sashimi in her life ever again. It was actually one of the main reasons she quit, in addition to her sudden need to train herself through any means possible.

When Tsubame got home, her door was unlocked. Slowly, so as not to create even the slightest of noise, she slid her unused key out of the lock and tucked it back in her bag. She eased open the door with one hand while the other slipped out a fan from underneath her school skirt.

To her relief, her flat looked exactly as she had left it – instead, there were two new additions waiting inside for her.

Tsubame's fan almost fell out of her clammy grip. Her arms felt like lead by her sides as she stood in the doorway, mouth agape. "You," she murmured, her voice faint with alarm. "How…?"

"And where the hell have you been?" demanded Ken, sounding a lot like her mother did whenever her dad returned home from work later than he should've. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

Chikusa was a bit more sympathetic to her plight. "You should sit down," he told her, as if she were the guest and he the host.

Mechanically, Tsubame headed inside, closing the door firmly behind her. She was extremely aware of the two pairs of eyes following her movements as she removed her shoes and stood in front of them. Ken was sprawled all over her couch, still wearing the hideous olive green uniform Kokuyo somehow prided itself in.

Well, she mused hollowly, at least his shoes are off.

Chikusa sat on the matching loveseat, his posture slumped as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He avidly averted her gaze.

"First thing's first," announced Ken, pushing himself into a more appropriate position. "Where're my fangs?"

Oh, right. She still had those. "I'll go get them," she mumbled, feeling like she was in a very surreal dream. She'd had plenty of those the first week back from Kokuyo, and not all of them were this pleasant.

Tsubame knelt by her bedside table and unlocked the first drawer. It didn't hold much – just her DC armband and the first plastic fan Fon had given. She took out her old glasses case, rendered almost obsolete ever since she switched to contacts. After opening it to check that all of its contents were there, she went back into the living room and handed the case to Ken.

He opened it so vigorously that the case snapped in two, but Ken didn't care. "Yes!" he crowed, swiping his weapons from the now-broken case. "Finally!"

"So," she said, turning to Chikusa as Ken shoved in cartridge after cartridge in his mouth, "I think it's time for an explanation."

"We escaped," said Chikusa, not the type to beat around the bush. "Mukuro-sama used himself as a diversion, so while the guards chased after him, Ken and I were free to get away."

"Mukuro did?" she said dubiously.

"What's with that attitude, huh?!" exploded Ken. "Mukuro-sama is a good guy, byon!"

"We're talking about the guy who wanted to murder millions through a third world war, right?"

Ken deflated. "He's just misunderstood, that's all."

"He was a loose cannon before," acknowledged Chikusa as he fidgeted with his glasses. "But he's better now. Whatever your boss did to him… It undid years of corruption."

"Corruption?" echoed Tsubame, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "From what?"

"From the same thing that makes him one of the most powerful men alive," said Chikusa. "His eye."

The red one. The one that had been forced into him as a child after months of human experimentation. The one that allegedly allowed him to travel through the six paths of reincarnation itself. She supposed something of that calibre came drawbacks severe enough to unravel one's own mind.

"I still hate him," she said frankly. She probably wouldn't ever forgive him for what he did to Fuuta and Hibari and Bianchi… "But I guess even he deserves a second chance."

"How kind of you."

Tsubame whirled around, fan outstretched at the voice that featured in her nightmares not long ago. Instead of coming face-to-face with Rokudo Mukuro, though, Tsubame was faced with a purple-haired girl in the female equivalent of Kokuyo's uniform.

"Is she being possessed?" Tsubame called over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving the girl.

"Not exactly," Chikusa said uncertainly.

"It's voluntary, I assure you," the girl said with Mukuro's voice. She used the trident in her hands to pry Tsubame's closed fan away from her throat, the gesture making the ring adorning her finger twinkle in the dying light of the evening.

Tsubame stumbled back in shock. "You're Tsuna's Mist Guardian." Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"There was a deal," supplied Chikusa when the girl simply smiled at her. "The Vongola will grant us solace as long as we help your side beat the Varia." Clearly, the deal didn't extend to Mukuro if he was forced to inhabit another's body in order to get anywhere.

"Do me a favour, little Mafioso," drawled Mukuro's voice. "Take care of my minions for me."

"I live in a one-room apartment," was the only thing she could think to say.

"I'm sure you'll figure things out."

Before Tsubame could work up another protest, something in the air shifted. The smug demeanour of the girl vanished, and she glanced at Tsubame almost hesitantly. "Please forgive Mukuro-sama's rudeness," she said, her voice soft but strong.

The bastard was gone. That's cheating, fumed Tsubame. There was no way she could ever one-up him if he could run away without a moment's notice like that.

"Right," Tsubame forced out. "Well, I guess we're roommates now. Kishino Tsubame, by the way."

"Chrome Dokuro."

That's even lamer than Rokudo Mukuro.

"We call her Chrome," chipped in Ken, who was already settling in by rifling through her cabinets. Jerk.

"I'm going to take a shower," Chikusa said, slinking off to her bathroom.

"So you're the Wind Guardian?" Chrome asked, glancing at the complete ring on Tsubame's left hand. "Are you sensitive to illusions?"

"Sensitive?" Tsubame's face screwed up in thought. "I guess."

"Tell me," said Chrome as tucked her trident into the crook of her arm. She held out her hands in front of her, which were suddenly occupied by an item each. "What do you see?"

There was a piece of fruit in each of Chrome's hands – a red apple in the left, and a green in the right. Since she was being tested by a Mist Flame user, Tsubame was inclined to say that both fruit were illusions. However, the knowledge of Mukuro's powers held her back. Hadn't he been able to create real items before? What prevented Chrome from being able to do the same?

Tsubame squinted, focusing all her attention on the apples. Something tickled the back of her mind, and once she was conscious of the feeling, the image of the red apple began to waver like a mirage.

"That one," she said, pointing at Chrome's left hand. "The red one's a fake."

A faint smile materialised on Chrome's face. "Wind Flame users are more inclined to see through illusions than others," she said, placing the sole apple back in the fruit bowl on the dining table. "The stronger and purer the Flames, the better the sight."

Tsubame placed a hand against her forehead as she put two and two together. The Varia prided themselves in their strength and power, so much so that they threatened to murder anyone who dared to fail a mission. She had seen them spray bullets at Lussuria for his loss against Ryohei the first night of the conflict, and remembered the terror frozen onto the man's face as he collapsed, blood pouring out of his body at a rapid rate. He was in a stable condition, the last she heard of him.

The position of the Wind Guardian needed to be Varia quality in order to be accepted, but that meant having someone with Flames powerful enough that they could see straight through illusions. Tsubame recalled the way Reborn had reacted upon hearing the Varia's lack of Wind Guardian, how he immediately turned to their illusionist and asked, "Are you sure that's the only reason, Viper?"

Mammon was hiding something. It was pretty obvious already, what with how almost all of his body was covered up by his hooded cloak. Whatever it was, it was significant enough to risk being a Guardian down in a conflict where they were of the utmost importance.

Tonight was the battle between the Mist representatives. What if, as she was parsing through the illusions, she happened to catch a glimpse of Mammon's true form? He'd probably kill her without a second thought.

Tsubame sighed. It looked like she was going to be absent from the fight tonight.

Illusionists suck.