A/N: It's been a bit, hasn't it? Hope you all enjoy the new chapter. (Also, thanks for all the feedback you guys have been giving! It's really appreciated.)
Keeping Your Character – Chapter Twenty Five
Having been prepared for pretty much everything life threw at her for the past few years – either through her foreknowledge or her own arrangements – Lambo was understandably freaking out a bit over this interaction she'd gotten herself into with the Vindice; it was entirely impossible to prepare for, given that she herself hadn't even known she was going to prompt them into a negotiation until the words had already left her mouth.
Great going, mouth.
Though she strove to not outwardly show it, her brain was flipping through different conversation possibilities like a Vegas card-shuffler. Specifically, possibilities that wouldn't get her killed.
Or Mukuro and Co. locked up, she supposed. Now that she'd apparently already committed herself to that aim.
For a brief moment, she contemplated whether or not to go the "you break it, you bought it" route that was so popular with the mafia – technically speaking, it could be said that the Kokuyo Gang was now under Tsuna's (and thus the Vongola's) jurisdiction, because he'd been the one to defeat Mukuro. And under the Ninth's direct orders as well, meaning that it was a sanctioned/official operation.
But honestly, she couldn't foresee anyone being particularly happy with such an outcome. Mukuro would deeply resent being placed under the influence and "care" of the Vongola – particularly if it happened while he was unconscious and unable to even attempt verbally wriggling his way out of it. Not to mention Tsuna himself would be deeply uncomfortable with such a responsibility, despite whatever sympathy the former experiments' tragic backstory may have garnered from him.
She supposed she could possibly call in that favor from Iemitsu – he'd been able to semi-free them from Vendicare Prison in canon, after all – but she'd been planning to save that for a rainier day. Like an "after her pseudo-prescience ran out" sort of downpour. Plus, again, she couldn't imagine Mukuro being too happy with the notion of owing his freedom to a high mafia mucky-muck.
Lambo sighed deeply, staring dramatically up at the patchy, decrepit ceiling as though she could see through it and into the fathomless heavens. She felt, more than saw Reborn's gaze shifting between her and the guards, his black eyes blank and glittering; Tsuna was watching much the same, his expression slowly inching away from exhausted relief and back into a nervous fear as he read the situation.
It almost surprised her despite her knowledge, given how little she saw it in practice, but Tsuna really did have a good intuition.
Well, the first step to a fruitful negotiation was knowing what your opponent wanted. She supposed that since she'd decided to not bother holding too tightly to canon, she'd better start using some of that knowledge for her own benefit while it was still relevant
"I'm rather fond of these guys, you see," she said, directing her words toward the nearest guard. "And prison seems to disagree with them, given how the last time they were there, they broke out."
Aaaaand going by the subtle-yet-ominous rustling of chains, she probably shouldn't have implied that the Vindice might fail to contain them (even if she knew it to be true). Honestly, she was just happy that Mukuro and the others hadn't been previously imprisoned at Vendicare, and thus escaped them – she had the feeling that wounded pride wouldn't exactly make the Vindice more amenable to negotiations.
"Anyway," she hurried on. "I have something to offer you in exchange for letting them free. A trade, if you will."
"What could a simple bounty hunter offer that the Vindice would consider a fair price for the release of convicts?"
Lambo sucked in a quick, deep breath through her teeth.
"A bit of information regarding those stones around your necks," she stated, nodding towards them with a deliberately calm face. "And a way to wrest control from the one who gave them to you."
The three Vindice stilled – unnaturally so, as if frozen in time, or just frozen. Even their chains halted in their clinking and rattling.
"Although," she continued. "You may want to have this talk somewhere with a little more privacy."
The Vindice seemed to somehow turn to look at the only other conscious people – Tsuna and Reborn – without actually moving their heads.
Then, they nodded. Their chains began to rattle again, steadily reeling in their prey once more – this time, as prospective bartering implements rather than straight-up prisoners. It was something of an upgrade. She hoped.
Her eyes flickered to the thick shadows behind them, and only by straining her vision could she barely make out the presence of an inky portal forming.
"Lovely," she said, only partially facetious, making to get to her feet.
She paused.
"I…'ve fallen and I can't get up," she said, straight-faced.
Apparently, the whole battle in the center of her mind thing had been a bit taxing on her physical body as well. She supposed it made sense when one considered the fact that every movement was a matter of willing oneself to do it – doubly so when it came to Dying Will Flames and their usage – and she'd basically just completed the willpower equivalent of an extensive workout.
Still embarrassing though.
For a moment, she got the impression that at least one of the Vindice was staring at her with the sort of deadpan face that would fill a comedic beat of silence.
Then another chain shot across the room to coil around her midsection, brusquely pulling her upright. (She heard Tsuna give a somewhat muffled version of his signature shriek.) She braced herself to be dropped on her unsteady feet, but instead felt herself zooming across the room toward the withdrawing Vindice.
Lambo felt rather like a cross between a woman on a rollercoaster and dog on a leash.
She only had a split second to comprehend her sudden movement before she was dragged through the portal. It was dark, obviously – but not quite the dark of night, as the name of the Vindice's Flames might suggest; it was more like an entire realm coated in vantablack. There was a distinct feeling of near-elastic propulsion, as though her body was a pebble in a slingshot, and then she was through.
She was still blinking at the change in illumination – even the dimly lit room she'd emerged in seemed bright in comparison to the portal – when she found herself bodily sat in what felt like an office chair. As her eyes adjusted, she became aware of the desk before her. Sitting behind it was a particularly individual Vindice (in that he had distinguishing features at all) who could only be Jaeger; standing on his shoulder – like most Arcobaleno were wont to do – was a mummified baby with a clear pacifier.
She was mildly impressed that they had gotten into an intimidating position for their impromptu meeting so quickly – but then she remembered that they could open up portals with their bullshit Flames, and Bermuda had canonically gone light speed.
She actually really wanted to look around Vendicare prison some more, now that she was in it. It wasn't like the manga had shown an in-depth exploration of the Vindice's crib, and she was curious. Sadly, it didn't seem likely that she'd be able to, given the tension of the situation – she was surrounded by undead powerhouses, all of whom were once Arcobaleno (as in, the strongest in the world) and were now staring at her with growing impatience.
"Your information?" Jaeger asked blankly, showing no interest or disbelief whatsoever.
For once, she refrained from opening with a flippant comment.
"There is a possible – no, highly probable future wherein the Arcobaleno system is improved to the point of no longer requiring new sacrifices," she said bluntly.
They stiffened at the term "sacrifices," but not one of them could argue with such an unfortunately fitting description.
"Furthermore, your unique abilities are central to said process. The end result would be the Arcobaleno system being wrested away from Checkerface at the next Trial and placed into the Vindice's – your care."
The room was silent for a moment, seeming to grow darker and darker as it dragged on.
"What is your source for this… prediction?" Jaeger asked.
Lambo hesitated for a moment, wondering if the truth was actually the best bet in this case. It wasn't exactly believable – prescience might be more believable, given the affinity holders of certain Tri-Ni-Set had for it; at the same time, if she excused her unique insight in such a way, they might spot inconsistencies, require proof she couldn't give.
More than that, the process of her reincarnation was… private. Intensely so.
Also, she doubted anyone would appreciate being told that, in another world, their struggles only amounted to a trifling amusement for some anime fans.
"I read it in a book that doesn't exist in this world, which foretold a potential future," she said finally.
It was true, if not the entirety of the matter – and slanted in a particularly believable way. Given how long the Vindice had been around, presumably ferreting out information about the Tri-Ni-Set and Checkerface, it was actually pretty likely that they'd at least heard of the Mare Rings' parallel abilities. It would be entirely possible for the system improvement to have been discovered in another world, and for someone in theirs to have somehow come across the information.
Despite the full-facial bandages all the Vindice sported, she could tell she was being stared at. She hurried to continue.
"I only know of one possible future," she explained further. "But even if things don't go exactly the same way, the knowledge of how things work remains relevant – so the… workaround should be viable, even if things diverge from what I know."
"How exactly would this… workaround function?"
Here, she hesitated once more. Knowledge was a dangerous things in the mafia, especially when you were basically telling someone that you knew their secrets.
"It heavily involves Night Flames. That's why you would ultimately be given, um, custody over it," she said carefully.
Despite what Lambo had feared (mostly because of the bandages), the Vindice weren't as difficult to read as one might think. Whether it was because they were basically the bogeymen of a shounen series, or simply because of their abnormal existence, they tended to give off a nigh-palpable aura that conveyed their emotional state.
Given that the Flames that kept them "alive" were literally powered by spite and hatred, she supposed that it usually only manifested as an on-demand atmosphere of sheer intimidation – but in this case, she could feel the shock creeping up on them. She heard chains rattle behind her.
She kept herself deliberately still as Bermuda, seemingly giving up on his imitation of a doll, hopped down onto the desk to silently pad toward her. He peered at her face for a long moment.
"And what do you know of Night Flames?"
"The portal thing and the light speed capability," she blurted, not wanting to go into any more detail than that – Bermuda's discovery of them via sheer spite and defying Checkerface, for example; if he knew she knew something like that about him, about his past… this encounter could get dangerously awkward.
"Mostly because the workaround, uh, works because it involves containing the Seven Flames of the Sky in a single container and utilizing Night Flames to continuously accelerate them in order to increase their energy output."
Bermuda's head tilted. Once again, she mentally cursed the Arcobaleno system for shoving the world's deadliest people into adorable, teddy-bear-sized bodies. Even Bermuda, with the zombie/mummy shtick and oozing aura of bitterness, was cute.
It had to be the top hat.
"It is apparent that you have a certain amount of knowledge regarding facts which have been hidden, and the method you have brought to us seems plausible. This points to the possibility of your tale being the truth," Bermuda stated.
He leaned in closer.
"But the Vindice do not act on mere possibilities. How might your information be… verified, if your 'book' does not exist?"
"Track down Talbot – the Vongola's Ring craftsman," she answered immediately. "He's the one with the skill and knowledge to create what you need. If you bring him the idea, he'll be able to tell you whether or not it could work."
Bermuda regarded her for another long moment.
"That you have not spread what you know of our power implies that you possess a certain amount of prudence – or at least self-preservation," he stated, the hypothetical threat should she have done so implied in such a casual way that she might have missed it had she forgotten exactly who she was speaking with.
"Why risk negotiating with us?"
Somewhat nonplussed that he was asking about her motives, instead of immediately tracking down Talbot, she answered – a little more bluntly than she might have otherwise because of her confusion.
"Prudence and self-preservation don't really have much of an effect on this," she said. "You're all scary as hell, but you follow your own rules, and I haven't broken any."
He huffed in slight amusement. Given how the startled chain-rustling behind her started up again, she supposed it must have been a rare occurrence.
"You seem so sure of our adherence to our law, yet you barter with us to make an exception?"
She shrugged, a little helplessly.
"That's why what I offered you is the only thing you prioritize above the law."
"Oh?"
"Revenge," she said simply.
There was another long silence (apparently it was a thing for Vindice – and probably a lot less disturbing than them being chatterboxes) wherein Bermuda contemplated her.
"We'll be in touch."
Then she felt something strange, and her eyes darted down to see a black portal yawning open beneath her feet. Her stomach lurched as she slipped into a freefall, and a moment later, she found herself dropping back into the shadowy theatre in Kokuyo Land.
She landed on her feet, but didn't exactly stick the landing. Her legs seemed to realize just how exhausted she was (in all meanings of the word) and simply gave out like a couple of floppy noodles. Her back hit the ground with a solid "flump" noise.
She supposed she was thankful it hadn't been her face.
"Lambo!?"
Her head painfully, slowly inched around to see Tsuna sitting next to his unconscious friends – still scuffed up from the fight, but now surrounded by a small swarm of Vongola medics. He was staring at her with huge eyes.
"Lambo," another, much sharper voice said behind her.
She turned the other way, and might have flinched despite her familiarity with Reborn's void-pit eyes if she wasn't so darn tired. They were much closer than they'd ever been before – and unfortunately, much more curious.
"Hi," she managed.
She carefully turned her gaze toward the ceiling instead.
"Now I think we're done for the day."
The days after Mukuro's defeat (which honestly, Lambo marked in her mental calendar more as "The Day I Decided to Lose All Sense and Negotiate with Mafia Bogeymen") were strange, to put it plainly. Lambo spent them very tired, and actually pretty worried about her friends in Vendicare.
Almost worse was when she had met up once more with her dangerous troll of a coworker and their charge (who had been the only ones "awake" for everything that had happened after she'd dropped in). She'd only been there to confirm the fact that she was effectively "on break" until Tsuna and Co. were entirely recovered from the Mukuro ordeal; usually she would have been even more on guard, given that the deceptive lull after a fight was the perfect time to ambush someone – but the fact that she'd had to fight a battle in the center of her mind had afflicted her with mental exhaustion, which was a little more difficult to recover from than its physical counterpart. Reborn had noticed she wasn't quite at 100%, and since he was super fresh because the Ninth had ordered him to stay out of the fighting, he'd decided to take up the entirety of bodyguarding Tsuna, and leave her to recuperate at home.
Seemingly compassionate, but mostly just efficient.
At any rate, the meeting had been distinctly unsettling. Apparently, the fact that she was 'childhood friends' with a mind-controlling, ex-experiment of a convict (not to mention an ex-experiment herself), as well as the fact that she was nuts enough to barter with the Vindice made her a little more interesting than she had been before.
Thankfully – and weirdly – Reborn had seemingly decided to approach the subject of his curiosity (that is, her) in a much more subtle manner than his usual flair. That is to say, instead of hogtieing her and injecting her with a truth serum (which honestly probably wouldn't work so well, given her general immunity to poisons and aversion to being tied down), he merely stared her down like he was trying to psychically crack open her skull like a crab shell so as to consume the "meat" of her secrets. Though admittedly, she had the feel that he was plotting something much worse behind those blank, black eyes.
Tsuna actually did much the same – like tutor, like student? He'd stared at her with a considering look, much sharper than the ones he'd been shooting her lately. Perhaps it was because he'd just experienced his first real to-the-death conflict, and he was just in a thoughtful mood. Maybe it was because it had also been the first time he'd directly seen her protect him from a lethal blow. Or it could have simply been that he'd realized just how little he actually knew about her, despite her rather constant presence in his life.
Whatever the case, Lambo felt almost ganged-up on – and very glad that the recovery period meant she wouldn't have to be around them constantly again for a while. Maybe they'd lose interest.
A few days into her break, Lambo was lounging around on her bed in boxers and a ridiculously loose and comfy t-shirt, skimming aimlessly through Netflix and reveling in the feel of doing absolutely nothing. Naturally, this meant that her free time was abruptly disrupted by the appearance of an inky portal above her bedside table. An envelope dropped from it, and the portal shut.
She stared it for a moment, wondering if she was reading into things too much, or if the precise placement of the portal in her private bedroom – above the table closest to her no less – was a pseudo-threatening reminder of the Vindice's power. She reached over to grab it. It was probably better to read a message from them sooner, rather than later.
The missive inside was written in silvery ink against black paper. Very gothic, as per usual.
"Black Sheep,
Your information has proven fruitful. The Vindice will fulfill our end of the bargain.
Expect your convicts to be delivered within the hour.
Do note that this is the only clemency they shall be granted. Any further offenses will be treated in accordance with our laws."
She wondered at the way they insistently referred to her as her alter ego, but she supposed it was as true a name as any she'd addressed herself as.
Relief crept up into her chest. They'd been able to find Talbot, then. Honestly, she hadn't exactly been entirely sure that her deal would work out. Which probably would have had consequences for her – not that she'd been thinking about that (constantly, repetitively over the past couple of days).
Of course, then she realized that the Vindice were supposed to show up very soon – presumably in her house, given their uncanny awareness of her location – and she was basically only wearing underwear. She scrambled to get dressed, and then hastily relocated to her living room. She wouldn't put it past them to appear in her bedroom, and honestly, she liked sleeping there too much to have nightmares about the Vindice popping up next to her bed.
The next few minutes were nearly unbearable. She'd never tapped her fingers so much in her life. Lives.
Then finally, they came. It was a little strange to have mummy-zombies with black magic portals come to drop off convicts at her house like they were puppies that she'd left with their pet daycare service.
Or not so strange, in regards to Ken.
She blinked as the chained, unconscious forms of her friends plopped heavily onto her floor. Thankfully, for the sake of their backs (or in Ken's case, his face), her living room was rather plushly carpeted.
"Thank you for the delivery," she said, wondering if she needed to sign something.
One of the three Vindice standing in her house nodded in acknowledgment, and they turned as one to leave through the same portal they had arrived through.
"Ah! I have something else your leader should know," she hurried to say. "It's not directly related to the information I passed on, so I didn't think of it until after our meeting was done, but it might affect your plans."
The three of them snapped around to stare at her expectantly.
"There's a big possibility that the Mare Rings' Sky will do some megalomaniacal junk in the relatively near future. He may or may not end up killing off the current Arcobaleno before the next Trial happens – and Checkerface will allow it because he's got a prescience similar to the Giglio Nero Bosses', so he knows that the deaths will be undone through time-travel shenanigans."
Once again, she got the feeling that the Vindice were shooting her deadpan stares.
"You'll still definitely get your opportunity to take control of the Pacifiers once the future is reset," she reassured them. "So please don't, uh, 'repossess' my friends if that happens?"
Without another word, they turned back toward the portal.
"That's a 'yes,' right?" she called, a little nervously.
The portal closed behind them, leaving Lambo alone in her living room, staring at the unconscious (and drooling, in Ken's case) forms of her fellow former-experiments.
"That was a 'yes,'" she told them with a nod.
She looked them over, wondering how to best undo the restraints. Generally, she was the one tying people up and delivering them; she wasn't used to being on the receiving end.
Her eyes caught on Mukuro's hair, pineappley tuft and all, and she realized that the warm lighting in her living room made his blue hair look purple.
It was then that she realized that her actions had inadvertently and drastically lowered the chances of Chrome ever existing. Free from Vendicare, Mukuro had no reason to seek out a vessel through which he could interact with the outside world. It was entirely possible that Nagi would languish in that hospital bed, waiting for organs (illusory or otherwise) that would never come.
Lambo couldn't even rely on "As Written by Akira Amano" to bring the girl into things, because (as far as she could tell) Chrome the Character had only existed to be the token female character of the main combat team, and to portray Mukuro in a more sympathetic light by showing he could make human connections.
Both roles were now filled by Lambo, which was as unsettling a thought as she had ever had. Not only for herself (she really hoped that the universe didn't start warping to make her a damsel in distress sort), but for Nagi's sake – what might happen to a side character who suddenly didn't enter "canon" at all?
But honestly, would Nagi perhaps be better off the way things were? Maybe it was for the better. Nagi was a 13-year-old girl – neglected at the very least, but it was just as likely that she was actively mistreated – and all the mafia would have done for her was thrust her into life-and-death battles and attach her to a "master" who undeniably had issues admitting to affection of any sort. Sure, she would have eventually made friends, but the mafia was not the sole location where friends could be found.
Maybe she wouldn't even end up in the hospital in the first place now – who knew? The accident that landed her there might have only occurred because it was the best narrative to put her on Mukuro's radar. Maybe the whole tragic backstory thing wouldn't happen if she wasn't going to be Mukuro's vessel?
Either way, she resolved to deal with the implications and consequences later.
In the meantime, she'd simply keep an eye out, and do a little something about Nagi's situation if needed. The girl would be easy enough to track down, and an accident for the so-called parents wouldn't be too difficult to arrange – even accounting for the precision needed to leave their organs intact and viable for transplantation. (Though she made a note to make sure they were marked down as donors first – or arrange for that too.)
Then, she'd just have to ensure that the girl ended up with a nice family. With lots of cats.
Secondhand existential horror somewhat assuaged, she turned once more to the limp, chained forms of her friends. Now that she'd thought about it, she decided that it might be more practical to leave them tied up until they were awake. Frankly speaking, she wasn't sure what state her living room might end up in if they woke up thinking they were still in Vendicare Prison.
She wouldn't put it past any of them to come up swinging (or in Ken's case, snarling and biting).
She shrugged, and one by one, picked them up and set them on her various furniture pieces – and then she went to the kitchen to go get a snack.
'I should tell Sho-chan to get me some more when he comes with groceries this week,' she thought to herself as she scooped out the last of her favorite toffee-flavored ice cream.
She froze.
Shoichi was coming to her house. It wasn't exactly anything new, he'd been coming weekly for… how long now? It was just, well, Mukuro, Ken, and Chikusa would almost certainly still be there this next time. For all that she was fond of the Kokuyo Gang, she was very aware that they all occupied various positions on the sliding scale of sociopathy; they had no qualms in harming anyone they didn't hold a certain affection for.
Sure, it was likely that they'd classify Shoichi as "Lambo's minion" and ignore him rather than screw with him – but Mukuro made no attempt to hide his natural eeriness, and Ken and Chikusa weren't exactly normal themselves. Shoichi would definitely sense how off they were. And a nervous Shoichi was a stomach-aching Shoichi, who was in turn an unproductive Shoichi.
Lambo groaned, rubbing at her temples – both because of her newest issue, and because she'd unconsciously began to scarf down her ice cream as she furiously thought things through, and now she had brain freeze.
Getting her friends out of prison became a more troublesome decision every day.
And that wasn't even considering how it might affect the Varia Arc.
OMAKE
It was no secret that most organizations which utilized Flame of the Sky users also tended to utilize themed codenames. The Ninth had his desserts, Xanxus had his Vices, Byakuran had his flowers… Tsuna was something of an exception, but not even he could entirely escape the convention – because he already felt guilty about "dragging his friends into the mafia," he refused to overwrite something as important as his Guardians' names; instead, the theme naming tendency manifested in the 10th Generation's Elemental Divisions.
Gokudera, ever the UMA enthusiast, had his Storm Division pick names from a pool of cryptids and mythological creatures; Yamamoto's Rain Division held the names of famous baseball players; Ryohei's Sun Division boasted the names of various martial arts schools.
Lambo herself had chosen to have her minions in the Lightning Division pick Pokemon names.
Officially speaking, Hibari's Clouds were named after types of tea – but she was pretty sure that was Kusakabe's doing, since Hibari generally addressed them as "Herbivore" followed by a number.
As for Mukuro, well… he apparently took great delight in forcing his Mist minions to come up with anagrams that utilized a combination of his name and their name. It was pretty difficult to come up with ones that didn't sound entirely stupid – especially given the international nature of many of their names. Mukuro's excuse was that it encouraged creativity.
The relevance of this all can be explained by a discovery Lambo made one day, upon visiting her Misty fellow Guardian in his lair (otherwise known as the south half of the east wing).
As she walked toward the Mist Division's recreation room, which housed many a puzzle and an overabundance of sandbox video games, she passed by a shorter woman. She probably wouldn't have taken any notice of her, were it not for the purple hair. Her eyes automatically glanced down at the other woman's face.
Lambo blinked, and walked into the room to take her seat on the couch next to Mukuro. As they started up their game for the day – good old Mario Kart – she casually brought up her newest curiosity.
"New recruit?"
"Hmm? Oh, the purple girl? She started on Monday," Mukuro replied absently – naturally selecting King Boo as his character. "Something of an interesting case – she was originally civilian, but she already had a good hold on her Mist Flames when she arrived. In the initial questioning, she claimed that she's had an anonymous benefactor since middle school, who, among other things, gave her a handbook of sorts regarding Flame usage after she began to manifest uncontrolled outbursts of illusions."
"Huh," Lambo said, staring blankly ahead as she attempted to ram Mukuro off Rainbow Road with her Dry Bones. "Why join the Vongola, though?"
"Well, she's apparently trying to track down her fairy godmother, and the Flame knowledge mixed with the dubiously legal nature of some of the 'help' provided made her think the mafia was her best bet."
Lambo pondered the potential awkwardness that meeting had in store. "And what unfortunate moniker did she end up with?"
"…Gina Kuromu – or Chrome, I believe?" he said, paying more attention to his driving than the conversation.
"Huh," Lambo said blankly.
Then she shrugged.
"Think she'd be a Rosalina?"