Title: fire in your heart (ice in your hands)

Chapter: 8/?

Summary: Tsuna attempts to open lines of communication. Mukuro does not approve.

something something exposition chapter. Tsuna is determined to confront several issues they've all been avoiding, and the Kokuyo gang fight him every step of the way. At least he makes lancia feel a little better about himself.

enjoy!

Getting back from the shop is a quiet affair, with Mukuro making a beeline for the couch as soon he arrives back in Tsuna's living room.

Tsuna, in baffled, muted silence, watches the man that had stood so tall and proud (and insidiously, too) not three hours ago nearly curl up on his couch.

He has no idea what happened, but he also gets the feeling, a wisp of something that knows more deep inside his brain, that if he were to approach Mukuro now, he might actually end up well and truly dead. And if not dead, well, mauled or battered to some extent.

The person on the couch was more akin to an extremely agitated bear, and while Tsuna had a stick to poke it with, he was smart enough not to use it.

Instead, he employed his special, elite skill: avoidance. It was a skillset in his repertoire that was well-loved, having assisted him throughout the duration of his teen years. (Yes, he knew he was still nineteen, technically, but it was only a few more weeks before he turned twenty and left his teens behind. He was an adult, thank you!)

Handily, subtly, Tsuna swivels around and skitters into the hallway. He pointedly ignores the jabs Ken and Chikusa make towards him as he quickly exits the scene. He especially ignores the blank, dead-eyed Lancia.

He'd think about him, and what role he served in Mukuro's little group, later. Preferably tomorrow, when it wasn't the evening and he didn't have the bulk of his classes the next day.

With all the grace he can muster, which is none, Tsuna enters his room and surreptitiously shuts the door behind him. Vowing to himself that he'd deal with that lot tomorrow.

It'd been bugging Tsuna all day.

The way Mukuro had reacted to the portal, to entering it, had been… strange. Sure, Tsuna had been extraordinarily nervous his first time entering a portal. He'd had the jitters for an hour beforehand. But how the other man had reacted was… different.

That wasn't nerves. It was fear, the cloying, choking kind. The kind of fear that crashed and bashed against someone's chest like the ocean against a rocky shore, angry and forceful and weathering. The kind that swallowed you whole. He knew that fear, knew that panic, but he just didn't know why.

And though the part of him that was sane, rational, reminded him that Mukuro wasn't his friend, and would probably be insulted if Tsuna were ever to imply so to his face, the other, larger part of him was concerned.

It stung a little, the prospect of having caused that reaction in a man that had scared him so much not too long ago.

It'd only been a couple weeks, but mentally he'd separated his life into before and after Mukuro, completely unintentionally.

He really didn't know how he'd done it. What with all his nasty teasing and violent threats and odd hot points, he didn't understand how Rokudo Mukuro had managed to weasel this far under his skin.

He didn't know how the man had managed to make Tsuna, of all people, worried about him. His cronies, he understood. They had some sort of easy companionship that Tsuna wasn't privy to, an outsider to an inner world that made absolutely no fucking sense, and though Mukuro called them his "minions"... he could see that it wasn't exactly quite true.

What boss watched his underlings play card games, content in their fun? What boss spent that much time around his underlings in the first place? What puppet master was so invested in being in the presence of his puppets?

That wasn't to say Mukuro was a good person, of course. In fact, Rokudo Mukuro might just be the worst person he's ever met- aside from his father, but he hasn't seen him in over a decade, so he didn't really count.

Though there was the fact that his father's highly illegal, highly immoral occupation had directly lead to his meeting with Mukuro in the first place… Hmm…

Tsuna decides to put a pin in it. He'd muse over the sorry state of his family later; He already had enough problems on his own, he really didn't need to go about unpacking any more potential issues right now.

The thought makes him want to gag, he hoped his father would stay where he'd always been: buried in Tsuna's distant past. From what he'd learned of the man, it was better for him to stay as a memory.

Either way, if he was to continue teaching Mukuro magic, he'd have to get to the bottom of whatever… that was. It wasn't that he wanted the blue-haired criminal to trust him, exactly, but rather he needed him to if their arrangement was to work. At least, to some extent.

He re-enters his apartment ready for war, fists clenched over the strap of his backpack as he marches in. He's putting on a brave face, he knows, but Tsuna thinks is warranted, due to the level of the people he's dealing with.

Luckily for him, the entire gang is situated in the living room, Mukuro draped over the couch once again, watching his cohorts play slapjack on the table. Lancia is staring out the window again, gaze distant, among the piles of blankets, snacks, and his extra futon rolled out on the floor.

At this point, the living room may as well be theirs. All in all, it was their usual setup.

Gathering all the courage he can muster, Tsuna clears his throat.

"Ahem."

Tsuna catches Chikusa's eyes sliding towards him, before flicking away. He goes ignored.

Deciding to take things a step further, he actually sits at one end of the table, getting right into the group's space.

'Ha,' he thinks, gleeful, 'try and ignore me now!'

Ken groans, "what do you want, pipsqueak?"

Satisfied now that he's got their attention, he continues with his original plan, "we need to talk."

"And what, pray tell, is there to talk about?" Mukuro asks as he examines his cuticles, feigning ignorance.

He shoots him a look, "the portal. What was that?"

"What was what, dear Tsunayoshi?" he retorts, still attempting to run Tsuna in circles.

He knows better now.

"You know," he begins, chewing over his words carefully. One wrong move and Tsuna could end up with a sharp object at his throat. It had to be done, regardless, so he powers on, "I think there's a lot you all haven't told me."

Kyoko would be so proud of him, really. He was actually getting to the point!

"Something isn't adding up. From the way none of you will tell me where you were staying before, to Mukuro's odd reaction to the portal... and a thousand different, little things. So I want to know: what happened?"

There are several beats of silence. Tsuna holds his breath.

It's Chikusa that speaks up first, "...why do you want to know?"

At this, Tsuna's shoulders drop, eyes softening slightly, "because if you guys are going to keep… bunking here, I have to know what to look out for. Both for myself and for… all of you."

Ken, whose face had previously been curled into a sneer, bursts into loud, unrestrained laughter. "So we've grown on you, eh?" he laughs, grasping at his belly as he chuckles.

"...Like mold," he slowly nods, the moment too open, too vulnerable for him to try and lie, to claim otherwise.

"I knew you'd see Mukuro-sama's charms, eventually! If he thinks you're useful, then, I've got no complaints!"

"Eh? Wait, I'm not his minion or anything-"

His protests just earn him another laugh. "Tell that to the looks you've been sending 'im every time you've seen him since you got back from… wherever yesterday. Face it, you're in the same boat as us, pipsqueak!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!" he retorts, while his companion simply shakes his head.

Mukuro's voice cuts in, killing their bickering before it can truly begin, "you really want to know?"

All at once, Tsuna is brought back to the matter at hand. It was easy to bicker, to banter- he'd been doing it for weeks by this point, after all, but he hadn't sat down just to chat.

(A little part of his brain fumes at the implication that he can't even exist in his own living room without needing a valid "reason", but at this point there was no denying the truth. He had roommates in his little apartment, and the living room was where they had taken up camp.)

He freezes in place, the slow grin falling from his face as he's pinned down by Mukuro's oddly intense eyes. With stiff shoulders, Tsuna nods, swallowing lightly, "yes, I really do."

He hopes no one notices the way his hands clench from their place on his lap. He also hopes Mukuro can see his sincerity on his face, summoned with all the will one can muster in front of a volatile criminal such as Rokudo Mukuro.

Mukuro peers at him, a crease to his brow and lips pulled thin before he snorts slightly. The haunting notes of the man's strange laugh ring out into the room, slow and deep. "You're an interesting one, Sawada Tsunayoshi," he says at last.

"Thanks?" he replies, a bit confused. His legs were kind of starting to hurt from sitting in such a formal position for so long. Subtly, Tsuna rubs at his ankle, attempting to massage some of the tension from it.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi, do you believe in hell?"

Tsuna flinches as if struck, "wh- what kind of question is that?!" he yelps, a bit blind-sided by the question.

"It was rhetorical," Mukuro drawls before continuing on, "Hell, you see, Tsunayoshi, is real. Oh, very real. It taints me, has left a mark upon my damned soul, and when I look upon this world I can see that it is beyond saving- no, the only way to save it is to raze it all to the ground."

"We," Mukuro points at Chikusa and Ken, who have stopped their game for the conversation and are listening intently to Mukuro's words, eyes flicking back and forth between him and Tsuna, obviously examining his every microexpression, "were created in a small Family known primarily for its technological advancements. This was once considered a blessing, but it was… a curse. If not for the development of a singular technology, the Family wouldn't have been back into a corner… forced to commit such horrors."

Inadvertently, he'd started rubbing his shoulder, trying to warm himself up after a sudden chill had fallen over the room. The conversation held with such a solemn quiet that even a pin drop could be heard- could bring everyone to distraction.

Tsuna wasn't sure if he should ask- could ask, but… "What was it? The horror, I mean. If- if you don't mind me asking!"

Mukuro nods matter-of-factly, "When your weapons aren't strong enough, you simply create more weapons. That was their reasoning… and create weapons they did. Punished, hunted, and executed for a famed bullet that could possess the bodies of others… they looked inwards for power. Tsunayoshi, do you know what it is to be a child? To be looked upon as a weapon instead? Do you know what it means to be a tool for others to use, hm?"

He looks confused, he knows, because Mukuro clarifies, speaks the damnable words so he can understand in perfect clarity, "Human experimentation."

Tsuna stops breathing, for a singular, horrid moment. All the air escapes his lungs, and he stares in palpable shock. The hand that had been rubbing his other arm halts, too. For a second, he just stops- eyes wide and brain short-circuiting as it tries to process the fact that three of the people in front of him are victims of human experimentation.

Mukuro, known only for his charm and common sense, simply starts to laugh, clicking a bit like a broken record. It's out of place in this conversation, in this retelling of childhood trauma, but it snaps Tsuna from his icy stupor.

The college student peers at Chikusa and Ken, the other two people implicated in this story, only to be met with two different expressions; one of an uncomfortable, stony blankness, the other a passive grin, intended to be mocking or provoke him in some way, but too fake to hide the way it doesn't reach his eyes.

Despite the way his mouth has gone dry, and his hands shake, the criminal steamrolls on nearly snarling, "backed into a corner, the adults and the scientists looked towards their children for redemption- for strength. Took all the children in the family and used them as tools to develop new weapons, to mold a generation stronger than they ever were. And it failed as many times as it worked. Can you believe that? Desperation leading to the sacrifice of the latest generation, torturing them until their bodies simply gave out?"

Tsuna can't imagine it, no, and he doesn't want to. The description is already enough for him, as is.

"This left eye of mine," at this Mukuro positions his fingers over the waterline of his eye, pulling the skin of his eyelid down slightly to reveal more of his red eye, "is a product of such experimentations. I, similar to Chikusa and Ken here, was strapped down to a table and forced into attaining such a thing… losing my original eye in the process. This eye… it sent me to hell for six eternities, making me pay for the sins of six past lives!" he says with an odd sort of relish, and then chuckles, like it's all some sort of big joke. Like the universe had played a prank he'd found particularly amusing.

He hums, the only noise he can confidently make in response to all of that, his eyebrows raised near to his hairline. "So… does that have anything to do with the reason why you tried to ki- kill me, that one time?"

"So you can put two-and-two together... yes, of course it does! Though it's nothing personal, really."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Tsuna grumbles, subconsciously crossing his arms and tucking his hands close to his sides, as if to shield his torso from an imaginary threat, the phantom of an injury.

A loud, rough voice chimes in- Ken's, to be precise. "Yeah- that's why I've got fangs!" Upon stating this, he bares his teeth, and Tsuna notes that his canines were longer than the average person's. Way longer. He also wonders how often Ken bites his own lip with teeth that sharp.

Honestly, Tsuna had been completely ready to accept that he was just born like that, after all, the gang in front of him seemed to have this whole "invincibility" thing going on. He supposes it made way more sense that it wasn't true, though.

He just… wishes it hadn't came about the same way. From- from something as horrid as extensive, invasive experimentation.

For christ's sake they had been kids. They should have been doing things like going to school and attempting to tackle the beast that was math- not clawing tooth and nail in some laboratory basement to live for another day.

"The barcode is from the Family," Chikusa turns his face away, but Tsuna can still see the thing printed on his cheek, burned into his skin like a scar that will never fade.

The horror that'd been steadily mounting in him, yanking on his heartstrings and chilling his extremities, came to a head, "That's… terrible. I'm so sorry that happened to you- all of you."

Ken scowls, "we don't need your pity! Mukuro-sama killed the entire family anyway, so it's fine!"

"Wh- killed them?!"

Mukuro shrugs, making a what-can-you-do motion, "Well, eventually, I'd had enough you see… I put an end to it. Humans… are too far gone. This world is trash, you see, so why should it matter that one measly Family is dead?"

"Um," he says, unsure what to say. Yeah, they'd deserved a good kick in the teeth and more than likely should've ended up in prison for life, but murdered? Killed in one fell swoop. Tsuna wasn't very good at stuff like this, but something about it felt wrong.

Chikusa snorts, chuckling quietly into his fist, "the look on your face…"

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with my face!"

"It's ugly as hell, that's for sure!" Ken barks, sticking his tongue out at him for real.

"And what- what does that say about all your hair clips?! The-they barely even keep your hair back!" Tsuna retorts, a bit ticked off.

Ken opens his mouth to fire something back, having slammed his palms onto the coffee table in sheer outrage, but Tsuna's distracted by Lancia suddenly rising from his seat, blankly, and marching for the door. Silently, without a word spoken to anyone about where he was going, Tsuna's baffled by the way he simply… leaves. Turns the knob and slips through, disappearing into the afternoon air.

'Wonder what that was all about,' Tsuna thinks, bewildered, whipping his head around to raise a singular eyebrow at Mukuro, who looked unbothered by the man's quick, silent exit.

"I didn't forget what you said about him," he says, accusatory, "a false Mukuro? A puppet? What does that even mean, human beings aren't toys!"

The man shoots him a wane smile, crushing his cheek on his fist as he leans further on it, "Aren't they, though? Don't they dance to each other's tunes? Doing whatever others say because society arbitrarily decided so? I told you, I care not for the world. I don't care for what's in it, either..."

Tsuna groans, a bit heated. He can feel sparks of irritation arching through him, making the tips of his ears hot, "that doesn't make any sense! Didn't you just tell me about- about your childhood? About how you'd been taken advantage of?"

"Yes," Mukuro nods, obviously not seeing the issue here.

"Then why do you-"

"Because it doesn't matter. They don't matter, Sawada."

He's angry, not thinking straight, he knows, but he can't help himself, "Oh, but you do? Rokudo Mukuro matters more than everyone else, everyone else is just- is just a pawn!"

"They are! Bodies… are temporary. This form is only helpful insofar as using it to accomplish my own goals… I have no strong attachments to it otherwise. When you've seen the core of your soul, stripped of form and physicality, over and over again, you realize how ineffectual it all is. How pointless. You may not understand it yet, with your soft heart, but human beings are tools being used every day. You are a tool, too."

"I am no- you know what? I'm not doing this. I'm not arguing about this with you," he's nearly ripping at his hair at this point, and that's a sign he needs to go. It's his apartment, but it doesn't really matter at this point. The faster he can get away from that, the better.

He needed to clear his head. Abruptly, Tsuna stands, exhaling harshly as he tries to force the anger hot and bubbling in his chest from his lungs, "I'm going out," he says bluntly, without inflection, before tugging his shoes on, grabbing his keys and phone, and exiting the house.

A loud, belly-deep laugh, almost manic in its glee, follows him down the hall, "you started this!"

Tsuna steps into the cool October air, it being early enough in the month that it hadn't gotten chilly, but the days where the sun blazed hot and imposing were now behind them until the next summer inevitably span around. It wasn't even really cold enough to warrant a jacket, really, but it wouldn't give him heat stroke, which was good enough for him.

He wasn't exactly fashionable, but hey! Hoodies and jackets were comfortable. So what if they were half of his wardrobe. It's his money!

That wasn't even mentioning his hair… he wants to groan just thinking about how those jerks had reacted to his attempts to tame it- unsuccessfully!

Town was the same as it had been the last time he'd seen it, the same roads, the same houses, the same businesses bathed in the afternoon sunlight. Nothing was different.

Except, things were different, but only for him. For Tsuna… everything had changed. It changes over and over and over again, his life falling apart and reconfiguring itself every day. Nearly every day, there's something new, some new monumental issue.

Once, it'd been getting out of bed. Then, it'd been getting into university. These days, it was a murderous ex-mob gang with a grudge against the entire planet. Literally.

He couldn't make this shit up if he tried.

Sighing, Tsuna pinches the bridge of his nose as he walks, before sighing through clenched teeth and resuming focus on what was ahead of him. It wouldn't do if he got hit by a cyclist or something like that.

He didn't know how long he'd been walking for, having idly took random twists and turns by whatever suited his fancy at that moment. Luckily, everything looked familiar, so he wasn't worried about getting lost- this time. Same old, same old. Same old neighborhood, same old people. Really, at this point, it was comforting, whereas before it would have been so boring it was almost depressing. No, Tsuna relished in the normalcy of it all-

Wait. Tsuna stops in his tracks, squinting as he leans forward to get a better look.

"Is that Lancia?" Tsuna mumbles. The extraordinary height certainly matched up, but it wouldn't be good to assume…

...He'd try and get a better look before calling out to the man- not that Tsuna was really sure he'd even respond at this point. Who knows what Mukuro had done to him.

(Secretly, Tsuna vows to secretly cast a spell on the man to make everything he eats taste like sriracha, even sweets. Now, if only he could get close enough to Call his magic without waking the other man up…)

Upping his pace, Tsuna attempts to get a closer look, trying not to make it look like he's making a direct beeline for the man in case it's not the right person. He squints harder, making a face.

It's definitely Lancia, upon closer inspection. The man is tall, wearing the worn clothing that seemed to be the trademark of the group.

Not that Tsuna's clothing was high end, but he didn't wear the same two outfits every day. Where they were washing them, Tsuna didn't know, because last he checked: they were all fugitives on the run and none of them had bank accounts. Or a job.

Now that he's confirmed he actually knows who he's about to approach, he tentatively calls out to the man.

"...L- Lancia, is that you?"

There's a pause as the man stops walking to look around. He sees the slight widening of Lancia's eyes as they zero in on Tsuna's form.

He dips his head in confirmation, causing the shorter man to breathe a sigh of relief. Tsuna steps forward to join the man in the walk.

Then he freezes.

There is blood on his jacket. Dark and splotched, there is the distinct smell of blood as he goes to stand beside him.

Something happened, obviously.

"Is that, uh, your blood?" he asks, voice thin as a needle.

Lancia blinks, looks down at the dark stain on his jacket, at the splatter marks on his sleeve, and shakes his head.

He's not sure if that's a better or worse response.

'What do you even do in this situation?' he thinks, almost frenzied, as he forces himself to move, to walk with the man back to his apartment complex, 'what do you even say?!'

"Uh- we- well that's good," he says, awkwardly.

Damn it. Usually, he had Kyoko there to help break the ice. He was down one crutch for this conversation…

"Conversation" is a heavy word for it, because the only sound the two of them are making is the sound of their footsteps against the pavement as they walk.

Tsuna coughs once, clearing his throat. It'd gotten gummy from the nerves, "...how was your day?"

No reply.

"Um, okay, I can see from th- the, um, stains that you don't want to talk about it. Mine has had its… ups and downs. You were there for our… conversation earlier, so you know that part- wait, I don't know if you were listening in, though… um, forget it! It doesn't really matter. But I, uh, went to my marketing class today! As I do… every time I have that class…" he laughs nervously.

This isn't working. While he stresses in silence, his pocket buzzes, saving him from the hole he was currently digging and subsequently burying all chances of further conversation in it.

Relieved to have a distraction, Tsuna pulls his phone from his pocket to check his messages.

It's his mom, asking him if she could call him tomorrow and catch up. And, oh, it's a shame they don't talk enough, these days!

...It is a shame, he realizes. Since Mukuro and his friends had shown up, he had completely forgotten to text her more than a few times, and only when she texted him first.

…Which was Tsuna's bad, honestly. He was a terrible son.

"Who's that?" a voice cuts in, cutting through his self-deprecating thoughts. Lancia. Right.

"Oh, uh, just my mom, she wants to know how I'm doing," he feels his face soften as he continues, "we have an arrangement. She pays for school and I pay for my own apartment… a fair trade if you ask me! While we're comfortable, we don't have enough to support two whole households… and, trust me, she saved for a long while so I could smoothly attend a university."

—I'm just not sure I can do this, mom, you know I'm no good—

There's a pause as the other man digests this, "she's good to you?"

—Tsu-kun, what are you going to do with your life?—

"Yeah! Wouldn't trade my mom for the world, why?"

"...I… was once doing something… not similar… but… akin to that. I was taking care of several children, you see, who my boss had taken in after discovering they'd been orphaned."

"Oh, you were in the mafia before all of," here Tsuna gestures to their surroundings, "this?"

"...Yes."

He hums, unsure what to say in response to that. He doesn't have to say anything, it turns out that once he started talking, the floodgates were open.

"I felt for them, as I'd been in a similar situation… and I tried to raise them as I had been raised. I- It did not work. I don't think so, anyway. I don't think… it worked... I am a facsimile of the person I once was… my Family would not even recognize me if they were to spot me now."

"Well, I'm sure that, somewhere deep down, they appreciate it. Even if they couldn't recognize you now, they'd still remember what you tried to do for them."

There's a brightness to his eyes that Tsuna's never seen, not once, not in all the time he's known him. He still looks terrible, worn down and haggard, exhausted bruises sunk into his eye sockets. But there's an animation to him that simply wasn't there before.

"...Thank you. For saying that."

Tsuna just smiles at him. Then, he realizes with perfect clarity, that he's not as angry as he was even ten minutes ago.

When Tsuna enters his apartment next with Lancia in tow, it's to the rest of his freeloaders in different clothing. Mukuro is not actually lounging on his couch for once, but instead stood looking into a handheld mirror, adjusting his new clothing, a fresh denim jacket along with a deep purple undershirt and some casual black pants to complete the look, and tucking his long hair behind an ear.

Now, Tsuna was, again, not fashionable. His sense of style was… abysmal, to say the least, and he's sure has the messiest, meanest hair known to man. He's practically given up on the thing.

But, really, did Mukuro have to keep the cowlick? It stuck up almost like a fan, no— like a—like a pineapple!

It's a struggle not to laugh, and then it's easy. Because the new clothing wasn't the extent of the changes.

Chikusa and Ken are yet again sat around his coffee table, sat on several pillows of different patterns for more comfort. They also have new outfits, but that's nothing compared to what's in front of them, the current object of their focus.

The two are focused intently on an absolutely massive mound of cash.

Coins, cards, and bills sit stacked on the table, with Chikusa easily sorting and smoothing out the crumpled wads of bills and stacking scattered coins.

"...Do I even want to know?" Is the first thing he says. He means it.

Does he? Or will this get him sucked into more crazy than he's already in?

Everything from the money to the credit cards, to the new wardrobe and the way the entire gang laughs near manically at his question, screams a resounding 'no'.

Now, Tsuna would be a hypocrite if he criticized Mukuro for having messy hair, but he did

"Here, this is for you," drawls Ken, not really paying much attention as he throws a stack of clothing in Lancia's direction, which the towering man catches neatly.

His eyes have deadened again, but at least Tsuna knows more about him. It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Later that evening, Tsuna toddles into the kitchen for a glass of water before bed, only to find Lancia there.

They're the only two in the apartment at that very moment, but the silence is awkward as he drops two ice cubes into the cup and fills it up. He's about to quietly retreat back to his room without a word, back turned, when a deep voice speaks up.

"You know, Sawada… you would have made a pretty good mafia boss, in another life..."

He's so surprised by the comment he can't help but shriek.

"Me?! A mafia boss?! No way!"