NOTICE! (TL;DR at end for those who don't care)
I didn't want to say anything because I figured I had to try to show rather than tell as a writer, and it's always fun to watch people theorize on what comes after, but there was an anonymous comment that made me think I should clarify now what direction this story is going to take.
This is not a story where the girls are going to be just beating up Iemitsu or Nono or whoever and be all super-powered saints doing everything right and Fixing Things because they're perfect and somehow knows everything that'll come before. They will be powerful, they will be fighting, and they will kick ass because power level wise they are stronger and they are strong people, but they will be human beings, with flaws, working and living with an agenda in a world filled with other people, just like every other character. I'm not saying characters haven't done anything bad or that their reasons justify the results, but at the same time, I also want to try showing things from their perspectives, and at least judge them fairly. Not to the point where I want them to be all likeable, but at least so that their motives have been defined and it's understandable.
Case in point – Kawahira. I wanted to see more from the enigmatic man who prioritizes the balance of the world above all. What kind of person is he, what kind of life has he lived, what has he seen and lost and given up? He's not a good person from the perspective of the Arcobaleno, to say the least. He's an obfuscating 'friend' from Hotaru's. From the perspective of the planet he's a guardian and a keeper of balance that prevents its destruction and might be considered a good person. And what does he think?
I want to write round, dynamic characters. I want to give them chances at redemption and growth – chances, I might point out, that other characters like Xanxus or Byakuran, objectively 'bad' people, also got in canon.
We are imperfect beings, and sometimes even actions made with the best intentions can hurt each other. We're not all-knowing, after all, and a lack of communication can lead to the worst of outcomes.
Yes it might be frustrating that Hotaru or the other senshi aren't as proactive as some might like, going in with heels and skirts and magic busting down walls and bad guys. Yes it might be frustrating that Mamoru seems weak and passive in comparison because it looks like he does nothing.
But the story I'm trying to tell has a theme of strength being more than just one type, and it's a theme I believe shared by both KHR and SM. I'm not saying my story will be perfect, or that the canon was perfect, or that other interpretations are wrong, but this is my interpretation of it. I might not do as good as a job as I want to. Readers might get frustrated with me and decide they have other stories they prefer to spend their time reading. Okay. That's your choice and I respect that, thank you.
No one is perfect. Choices are made, and in hindsight it may seem dumb and obviously there were better things to be chosen – and maybe that's true. But this is a tale of imperfect people whose stories were less explored in canon that I wanted to expand on and share. I'm sorry if I can't give you the gratification you were expecting or wanting but that's not the kind of writer I am, or the story I wanted to write.
We don't love because, we love despite. Flaws of characters that came with their strengths were what drew me to the story and them, and that's something I can't ignore.
TL;DR: If this isn't the kind of story you wanted to read, sorry it's not but I won't apologize for writing what I want to write.
Yamamoto Tsuyoshi would never claim he was a perfect man. A lucky one, sure, that he couldn't and wouldn't deny. He'd met a woman he would be proud to call the love of his life, somehow, miraculously, ended up having the fortune to have her fall in love with him as well, had a son he loved and was proud of, and lived a peaceful life.
What darkness that had been in his life before that were insignificant, when he thought about what he had now.
Even after Ameyuri died – and in a car accident, of all things, and not even because of his past, just a car accident, proof that death came regardless of anything and anyone because if the gods were fair they would have taken him and not her – he still had Takeshi, still had a light in his life to live for.
But that didn't mean his past hadn't not left its influences on him.
The clan that protected Namimori had rules. It was simple, in that anyone could come in and settle their roots down, so long as they acknowledged just who owned this town. Their reign, their rules.
And one of their rules was that peace and discipline was to be kept.
It was why a former hitman that had inherited the sword of murder could marry one of its residents and live without much fear. Namimori was a neutral zone, of sorts. Sure, some of its residents ended up working for the Hibari Clan, or contributing in some way to the family, but for the most part they were given safety. Security.
"Pasts are here to be buried," his friend said. "New starts. Peaceful ones."
"Weren't you born here?" Tsuyoshi asked. His start hadn't exactly been the peaceful sort, from what Tsuyoshi knew of his background.
Iemitsu groaned dramatically. "Damn, going straight for the kill today, are we?"
Tsuyoshi snorted, as Iemitsu's smile slipped away.
"Yeah," he said, looking down at his drink. "Going back a few generations, we've been here for a while, trying to bury a past that didn't do a good job of staying under."
Tsuyoshi didn't press, and Iemitsu didn't really elaborate further. That was the kind of friendship they had – distant yet close. Tsuyoshi would never forget that he had created Shinotsuku Ame saving Iemitsu, and Iemitsu would cover Tsuyoshi's tracks and keep his name out of interest, but the two of them didn't make it a point to spend time with each other, not after Tsuyoshi had moved into Namimori, and Iemitsu had gotten to his current position within the Vongola.
It was for their own good, and for the good of their family. For the sake of burying a past. For the same reasons why Tsuyoshi only ensured that his son had the basic foundations but never taught him how to fight, or how to wield a sword.
That Iemitsu had decided to break this unspoken rule meant something was up.
"Matsuyama Suguru and his disciples were killed," Iemitsu said at last, when the beer in his glass offered nothing to his attempts at scrying it.
Tsuyoshi paused. The Hibari Clan didn't really care about just who came into their town, so long as they acknowledged just who reigned, wouldn't care either way if the last inheritor of the Shigure Soen Ryu died or left to pass on the style to a worthy successor. If Matsuyama was dead, along with his disciples, then that meant Tsuyoshi was the only one left with the style, at least from his master's branch of it. And that meant the duty to find and teach a successor now fell onto his shoulders.
He had Takeshi, though. He had a son to take care of, a son that didn't have a mother. Tsuyoshi couldn't just abandon him to go off on a trip to ensure another generation of Shigure Soen Ryu continued.
It probably made him a failure of a successor, he knew, but between the dishonor of ending the line without attempting to continue it and his son, Tsuyoshi would always choose his son.
"I see," he said, thinking back to the days when the blade he wielded was one meant to kill, when he had looked at his fellow apprentice, after they had both proven themselves worthy – but with only one Shigure Gintoki to be inherited.
In the language of the sword they spoke and settled the argument, though no lives were taken. Matsuyama lost, Tsuyoshi won, and the sword best fitted to the self-destructive style came to him. He didn't wield it as he should, after he married Ameyuri, but still.
"He won't come after you," Iemitsu said, breaking in the good news to diffuse the bad. "He's a young swordsman, interested in breaking the different sword styles of the world to perfect his own. He thinks he's done with the Shigure Soen Ryu now."
Tsuyoshi scoffed. "He hasn't broken the Shigure Soen Ryu yet." And he never would, not the perfect, flawless style.
Iemitsu smirked. "That he hasn't." He drained his glass, and stood up. "It's getting restless in Italy. Be on guard, Tsuyoshi."
He couldn't tell Tsuyoshi more details out of loyalties and codes of honor and secrecy, but Tsuyoshi had lived in darker parts of society before. He could hazard a guess to the shitstorm brewing in the Vongola, if Iemitsu had actually warned him. "You got someone to save your sorry ass?"
Because he wouldn't be able to save it again, this time.
Iemitsu laughed. "A good team, yes. Hopefully my luck won't run out this time, but . . ."
"But if it does," Tsuyoshi said, cutting him off. No need to jinx anything and make self-fulfilling prophecies. "I know."
Iemitsu turned to hide his face. "Thanks."
Tsuyoshi wondered, nearly a year later, if his friend's – and his – luck had finally run out when the greatest hitman in the world came waltzing into his restaurant, in the deceptive shape, size and form of a baby he was known for. He nearly despaired when Takeshi revealed the Tsuna that had saved his life to be the son of his friend.
"On the house," he insisted, a smile of good will plastered on his face as he refused payment – making them guests, with food provided by the host. He was relieved when they all ate, even the hitman in the body of a baby, but he didn't let his guard down still. In part it was guest rights he was invoking, and in part he was trying to get a read on the two and a half hitmen his son had brought into the establishment.
The biggest danger – and the smallest person in the shop as well – made a few gestures signifying no intent to kill here, not today. While his son was speaking with his friends – and having fun, from the sounds of it, Tsuyoshi approached the hitman.
"Relax, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi," said the cursed infant. "I'm not here to kill you or your son."
"But you're here, and there's not a nonzero chance of my son getting involved in something dangerous," Tsuyoshi guessed. A shitstorm in Italy, Iemitsu, what the hell, this was Japan. "What does the Hibari Clan have to say about all that's going on in the town?"
The world's greatest hitman was hardly going to let something like that bother him. "They're fine with it."
At his silent doubt, Reborn clarified, as a form of a peace offering. "A deal. The Hibari are fine with the Vongola recruiting a small number of people from Namimori, provided it's their choice and they don't turn against the Hibari Clan."
Tsuyoshi felt his head throb. Why couldn't his son have brought friends more like Hotaru and Haru? Polite, pretty, and passionate when needed, perfect in every way. He had so been hoping one of them would end up being a daughter-in-law in the future, betting more towards Haru though either one would honestly have been welcomed with open arms, maybe give him some grandchildren to spoil before he finally kicked the can. All the aspects of a normal, peaceful life.
The gods were laughing at his pain, Tsuyoshi could feel it.
Hotaru sneezed.
"Bless you," murmured Haruka.
"Thank you," Hotaru said, withdrawing her hand from Haruka, now free of the minor scrapes that had been present. She hoped she wasn't coming down with a cold or a sickness.
Haruka's new 'hobby' since arriving in Namimori meant that she got some scrapes and bruises every now and then from a stray hit she couldn't or didn't dodge. Hotaru's own body had the magic of Saturn running in it, which meant that it could heal passively without much effort on her part. Healing others, though, took more time, something Haruka and Minako believed could be shortened with more practice.
That, of course, was not the reason why Haruka sparred frequently with Hibari Kyoya. The blonde woman came out with minor scratches and a few bruises at most, and that was from blocking blows.
"It's a really weird friendship you have with Hibari," she said. It was a secret that Haruka fought with Hibari, not because the opponent was Hibari Kyoya, terror and tyrant of Namimori, but because Haruka was a famous racer and fighting a middle school student often was hardly something that would socially benefit her.
Haruka snorted as she picked up one of the steamed buns Setsuna brought for dinner. "Hardly a friendship. The kid hates my guts."
Right, because Haruka 'held back' and Hibari didn't like that. Hotaru had never watched them fight and Haruka had never introduced them, both of which she was grateful for. She had come back from Saturn to Namimori, only to learn that for the year since she had been gone from the small town, Haruka had been fighting Hibari.
Not even a few days after moving into the town, Hibari had noticed Haruka and decided to pick a fight with her. Since both Setsuna and Michiru agreed that Haruka hadn't done anything to aggravate him, Hotaru chalked it up to animalistic instincts on Hibari's part, immediately zoning in on the strongest warrior among the outer soldiers as a challenge he wanted to face. It looked like his infamous talk of 'biting people to death' and habit of calling people herbivores was more than just a habit of speech.
"I'm sure he could handle it if you turned it up," suggested Setsuna. She was eating without needing to be told to for once, though that might have been because she was the one to bring the food today. She reassured Hotaru and Haruka that she hadn't been the one to make them and true to her word, they were delicious. "Saya-san seems to be of the opinion that he could use a challenge."
Haruka wasn't the only one to have interactions with the Hibari Clan, though hers were the most violent. Setsuna often had tea with Hibari Kyoya's mother, the former shrine maiden and second wife of the clan head. She lived outside Namimori, in the main house, and enjoyed Setsuna's company. Setsuna said that Hibari Saya had an interest in fashion that resonated with her own tastes.
With a huffing sound, Haruka cracked her neck. "She'd be right. I keep raising the level, and he keeps catching up."
The small smile that had been playing at Setsuna's lips dropped. "What?"
Haruka jerked her neck to the other side, releasing another cracking sound. She sighed, and not just in relief.
"He's a genius at fighting," she said bluntly. "It's nothing I won't be able to handle as Sailor Uranus, but eventually – two years, maybe more or less depending on what else he learns in that time – he'll surpass me in civilian form."
Hotaru gaped. Haruka noticed and smirked.
"Don't worry," she added. "He's not the only one learning from the fights."
Then Haruka scowled, because even if Hibari was a genius, even if she was learning from her clashes and becoming a better fighter from the experience, it still didn't change the fact that Hibari was in middle school.
Still, that was impressive. Hotaru mentally raised the danger level of Hibari up some more.
Between him and Takeshi and the baseball team, Namimori Middle would probably be safe from any dangers.
But then again, Hibari himself could be a type of danger. She hoped Takeshi and Tsuna didn't end up getting hurt by him.
It was a little late, but his dad finally got the chance to meet Tsuna. As they cleaned up the shop, Takeshi let his eyes slide over to his old man, methodically wiping down the boards just like he did every night, after closing shop.
When Hotaru met Tsuna, she had been surprised, but then warmed up immediately. He might have been a little jealous before at how fast she opened up, but now, knowing it was in part because of him, he could just enjoy how his friends got along with each other.
His dad's reaction hadn't been like that at all. He ended up relaxing, and there was a light of approval in his eyes towards Tsuna by the time they left, but at the start he had been wary and on-guard even behind the welcoming smile, Takeshi knew that as well as he knew baseball.
"Dad," he began, and then pressed his lips shut. What if his dad told him not to hang out with Tsuna anymore?
Tsuna wasn't his first friend, but he was special. It wasn't just owing him his life, it was just that Tsuna was –
What was the word? Comfortable? Right? Fun? Reliable?
The more time they spent together the more Takeshi wondered how he had never noticed things about Tsuna that were so blatantly obvious. How he had the funniest reactions to things, but also how his worries were for others when it came down to it over his own concerns. How he was reluctant most of the time, but threw himself into things when he had to get into it like he was willing to stake his life on it.
It was just so him that everything – the things that were special – were so obviously great it was too obvious, hidden in plain sight.
Tsuna was Tsuna.
Reading into his hesitation, his father put down the cloth. "Takeshi," he said knowingly, and Takeshi didn't know why he had even bothered trying to hide it from his dad when he noticed everything. "Do you like spending time with Tsuna?"
Takeshi nodded. It was fun, having friends at school. Nothing against Hotaru or Haru – especially Hotaru – but he liked to move, be active. The mafia game gave him something he felt good at, something he could actively move and sweat and feel the pleasant strain of exertion in. It was loud and crazy and –
It was fun. It was even better because he knew the kind of person Tsuna was, and every time he kept proving that he was really the kind of person that would approach someone who was just a classmate to tell him he shouldn't die, that his efforts were noticed and worth something, that he was truly an amazing person so he should live.
It was fun, how Tsuna worried about him – but in a way that was different from Hotaru or Haru.
Tsuyoshi smiled. Takeshi saw the lines deepen around his dad's eyes. He was nearly his dad's height, and both were taller than the average Japanese man, but his dad always looked big to his eyes in more than just height. Like a giant he couldn't overcome or surpass. It was likely that Takeshi would never be able to see his dad as anything less than a giant, even if he were to grow taller than him.
"Then that's good enough," Tsuyoshi decided.
He had just gotten his dad's approval, to keep being friends with Tsuna.
Relief filled his chest, warmth spreading through and relaxing his posture. "Thanks, Dad," Takeshi whispered.
AN: It was mentioned in Daily Life III that Haruka had a new hobby. That hobby is sparring with Hibari. It started a few days after the outers moved to Namimori, when Hibari ran into Haruka and realized she was strong. He picked a fight, she just defended herself, and property damage happened.
Michiru was at a concert so Setsuna went to talk with the legal guardian, and ended up becoming friends with Hibari's mother, who then suggested that Hibari and Haruka spar together because that would be fun. Haruka went along with it because the kid does have talent, she'll admit that.
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Tsuyoshi: *despairing at his son's new friends being dangerous people* son why could you not bring more friends like Hotaru or Haru, harmless ones?
Hotaru: *capable of ending the world with a single swing of the Silence Glaive, Soldier of Destruction and Death, arguably one of the most powerful people on this planet*
Tsuyoshi: *not aware of the above* the gods are laughing at me.
Hotaru: *technically a goddess of death / doing no such thing* "Achoo!"
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Votes are in! The winner is Mukuro, who got 9 votes. Second place was Chrome, with 4. Guess it's just canon that Hotaru's popular with Mist Flame Users. I'll bring this up again when we hit 100 reviews on both sites.
Sweet Dreams~