The old man with the wide-brimmed hat looked at Tsuna with sad eyes.
"Is he expected to make a full recovery?" he asked.
"Yeah." Ottone gave a stilted nod. "Eventually."
The doctor at the shady clinic had said so anyway. With rest and food and time, Tsuna would get better.
He just didn't understand why a whole lot of strangers suddenly cared about it.
Tsuna had spent the previous night at Ottone and Cinzia's place, both adults being deaf to his protests of listen, just listen, you're wrong. Cinzia had bullied him out of his dirty clothes, had dunked him in a tub filled with warm water, and had shoved him in a large bed.
And he'd slept.
As if he'd learned nothing. Like a trusting, suicidal idiot.
Morning had brought an avalanche of food, hot drinks and soft clothes. Plied with a full belly, he'd been lulled in a strange state of grogginess where time seemed to fly by. Daylight had started to dwindle without his notice, replaced by cloudy darkness far too soon.
He really should have tried harder to sneak away, Tsuna thought queasily. Especially when he'd been pushed in that car. Ottone had taken them out of the city, driving far into the countryside without stopping for a single break. He'd only killed the engine hours later, in front of a small house tucked at the end of a long driveway.
Three strangers had been waiting for them inside.
The oldest man was in his sixties, with a mustache and deep wrinkles around his eyes. He was sitting on a rickety chair, his hands wrapped around the top of a long cane. Ottone had greeted him with a terse "Timoteo," his voice carrying a hint of grudging respect, and that alone had been enough to make Tsuna pay close attention.
The second man, Coyote, was huge and easily towered over the rest of them. His shoulder-length hair was shaggy and brown, displaying a hint of grey around the sharp lines of a severe face. He looked like he could, and would, crush someone's skull without batting an eyelid.
And then there was Sawada. Blond hair, blue eyes. Tanned skin and big hands that were clenched into tight fists. He stood behind Timoteo, a little bit on the left, radiating the kind of tension that set people's teeth on edge.
Tsuna couldn't look away.
Yes, Coyote cut an impressive figure, and Timoteo gave off a sort of tired magnetism that was impossible to ignore, but for some reason it was Sawada that caught and held Tsuna's attention.
The man didn't look back, not once. His eyes were fixed on Ottone, steady and determined, as if one glance at the skinny kid gawking up at him could cause physical harm.
Tsuna stared, a trail of blurry memories whispering at the back of his mind, teasing him with its secrets and dancing around his grasping fingers like fluttering smoke.
"Good." Somewhere to the side, Timoteo let out a long sigh. "Given the current circumstances, I suppose that will have to be enough."
"Guess so." Ottone shrugged. "But you don't look real happy about it. Why?"
The old man flicked him a look.
"No party," Ottone pushed. "No feast to welcome the prodigal son home. Hell, someone should have rolled out a goddamn red carpet for the occasion."
Timoteo's fingers tightened around his cane. He frowned, and a subtle shift took place in the empty house. The dim lighting of the room flickered, as if something huge had just stretched in the shadows.
"Careful," Sawada murmured. "You're overstepping, Ottone."
That got him a grunt. "Because I'm asking uncomfortable questions? Questions that you, more than anyone else, should be asking right now?" Ottone snorted. "Bullshit."
Sawada twitched, like a flinch barely controlled. His eyes snapped down, collided with Tsuna's, and instantly jerked away.
"Yeah." Ottone laughed, short and bitter. "That's what I thought."
"You–"
"Gentlemen," Timoteo cut in. His voice was weary, low, but steady with the strength of untempered steel. "Let's stay focused on the matter at hand, shall we?"
"Sure." Ottone swept a hand toward Tsuna. "You wanted to see the brat. Here he is. Now what?"
There was a long pause.
Then, "We'll do what is necessary. As always."
Oh.
That… didn't sound good at all.
Did it?
Tsuna shuffled closer to Cinzia. She moved slightly, shifting so that he stood behind her. Which wasn't really reassuring. Tsuna wondered how likely he was to get caught if he made a run for the front door.
He stole another quick peek at Sawada.
And didn't move a single inch.
Timoteo was rubbing two fingers against his forehead. "Even you must have heard about it," he said. "The Famiglia is just getting back on its feet."
"How is that even fucking relevant?"
"After what he's been through... The boy needs stability. Safety. We can't give that to him right now."
"Not you, no. But Sawada should damn well be busting his ass to make it happen."
"Fuck." Coyote suddenly stirred. He pinned Ottone with an exasperated glower. "For once in your life, Ottone, stop being a pain in the ass."
The effect of his words was immediate.
Ottone straightened, his eyes narrowed, and the air around him went from annoyed straight to aggressive. It was like someone had flipped a switch. Tsuna could almost see Ottone's hackles rising.
"You found the boy and called us," Coyote continued, ignoring the rising tension. "Thank you for that, but now we're good to handle it."
"You fuckers don't look like you're handling shit."
"Language," Coyote bit out. "And it's not like we've got a choice. You've just dumped an heir on our doorstep."
"We already have an heir," Sawada interrupted sharply, glaring.
"And now you've got a spare, too," Ottone shot back, whirling on the blond man. "Aren't you fucking lucky."
"Lucky?" Sawada seemed to choke on the word. "Lucky?"
"What? It's not like you shitheads have a great track record at keeping your kids safe." Ottone sneered. "Better to have one or two in reserve, right? You never know when they might come in handy."
Coyote snarled.
He took three long steps forward, one fist half raised behind him. Ottone watched him, hands held loosely at his side, an expression of grim anticipation on his face.
The warm body beside Tsuna vanished.
Cinzia suddenly materialized between the two men, shoving Coyote away, her back pressed into Ottone's chest, and snapped, "Don't touch him."
"Move," Ottone clipped, trying to push the woman aside.
Cinzia whirled on him. "Step back," she said. "Dammit, step back."
"Cinzia," Ottone growled, "get out of the way."
She grabbed his chin and jerked his head down. "Look at me, you idiot," she hissed. "This is not happening. We're not here to start a fight. Not even with your brother –"
"You haven't changed," Coyote said, his voice the deep rumble of a storm gathering on the horizon. "Even after all this time. Jesus, you're still the same."
Ottone leaned forward, his torso curving over Cinzia's shoulder. "You. Fucking. Hypocrite."
"I –"
"Enough."
Timoteo's voice cracked like a clap of thunder.
Everyone in the room froze.
Timoteo stood up, slowly, and it felt like something vast and ancient started to unfurl around him. "You're a friend, Ottone," he said. "Once, I even called you family." A heavy pause. "But you if you ever talk about my sons like that again, I'll kill you."
A wave of invisible Flames crashed into them all.
Tsuna staggered, throwing a hand in front of him.
The world wavered, twisted, rippling from gold into yellow before going back to gold again. Timoteo's Flames grew, expanding rapidly, dense and hungry.
"Do not," Timoteo continued, his voice like a naked blade glinting in the dark, "disrespect my sons' deaths in front of me."
Tsuna whimpered.
Pressure built in the air, a crushing weight that wanted him to bow. To yield. To kneel.
He lurched backward, aiming for the door.
Blind panic strangled him. Dread rotted in the pit of his belly. He'd never felt anything like this before. Those Flames, they weren't his – they weren't – but still, they felt familiar. Like two pieces of the same puzzle that just wouldn't click. He could read them, feel them on a visceral level. Timoteo's Flames were angry, they were in pain, and they'd gleefully turn all that agony on any perceived threat.
It was too dangerous.
Screw Sawada and the voice's whispers and his curiosity.
He had to get out of there. Before Timoteo snapped, before he got incinerated–
Tsuna tripped on Cinzia's leg.
The woman had collapsed to her hands and knees, staring straight ahead with wide and dazed eyes as she struggled to breathe. Behind her, Ottone was standing tall, though it looked like every muscle in his body had locked up.
Tsuna blinked at them, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be running for his life.
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Cinzia's face. Ottone's complexion paled, the cords in his neck popping as he strained to stay on his feet.
Tsuna hesitated. He looked at the door, then back again at the two adults.
And he remembered.
A glass of milk and reassurances that everything would be alright. A gruff voice telling him to eat when starvation had been nipping at his heels. How terrifyingly nice it had been to talk to someone after weeks of silence, how warm that slim hand had felt when Cinzia had pulled a blanket around him.
Kindness.
For the first time since Nero.
Even if it was all for the wrong reasons, even if it turned out to be a misunderstanding in the end. They'd still cared enough to want to help.
And Tsuna?
He was scared, and lost, and a coward, but he was also very selfish. Something in him wanted to hold onto that kindness and never let go. Maybe it was why he hadn't left when he'd had the chance to, why he hadn't tried harder to slink away when logic had screamed at him to go, just go. The small part of him that had always yearned for acceptance, that had always craved and throbbed and ached –
It watched Cinzia and Ottone, it saw them hurting, and it bared its fangs.
(Not again.)
"Not again," Tsuna agreed.
The first step back was the hardest.
Then it got easier to move, to put one foot in front of the other until he was standing between Ottone and Cinzia.
Timoteo's eyes snapped to him, his eyes like burning chips of steel on a blank canvas wiped clean of emotion. Sawada and Coyote stood on either side of him. The two of them were pale, twin expressions of unease on their faces, but neither seemed to feel the brunt of their leader's temper.
Tsuna trembled.
"Y-you're hurting t-them."
They were nice to me, he didn't quite manage to force out. So stop. I don't like it.
Timoteo tilted his head to the side.
The pressure in the air doubled.
Ottone swayed. Cinzia let out a groan, sweat glistening on her skin.
Tsuna bit his lips, feeling tiny and weak and helpless.
Except.
He wasn't, was he?
Not really.
He looked inside. And reached for the monster burning there.
His Flames came roaring out, flooding the living room with a snarl. They crashed against Timoteo's Flames with a thunderous bang, hard enough to shake the walls. Tsuna braced himself, both hands coming up on either side of him. He pushed, and was almost blasted off his feet when Timoteo pushed back. Heat rose in the air, searing and furious, and only the knowledge that people he wanted to help were behind him kept Tsuna from bolting.
Instead, he dug deeper inside.
His Flames poured out, invisible but strong enough to be touched. They coiled tightly around Cinzia and Ottone, like a protective dragon of fire guarding its hoard.
Timoteo's eyes narrowed.
A tendril of blistering Flames slashed through the air, whipping toward Ottone. Tsuna slapped it to the side, and the table on their right burst into fire. His monster snarled, stretched, then surged toward the old man.
And suddenly, horrifyingly, Tsuna was no longer fighting to keep someone else's Flames away from him – he started to struggle to keep his own in.
They bucked, a raging beast struggling against its leash.
Tsuna's knees hit the floor.
He wrapped his arms around himself, curling in a tight ball, panting and gasping as his Flames battered his mind. Too much. He'd let out too much, and now he couldn't – he couldn't –
Someone cursed.
A hand landed on his shoulder, heavy and grounding.
"Calm down." Ottone's voice, brusque and slightly out of breath. "Calm the fuck down, brat."
Tsuna barely heard him.
All he could think about was how the last time he'd tried to use his Flames to protect someone, Nero had been swallowed by a wave of orange fire. He could still smell it, that acrid scent of burned skin and charred bones and hot ash drifting to the floor.
"Holy fuck," Coyote muttered from the other side of room. "Holy fuck."
"Nono!" Sawada barked.
Timoteo's Flames abruptly disappeared, vanishing between one heartbeat and the next.
Feeling his fire faltering at the sudden lack of threat, Tsuna scrambled to do the same.
From where she sat on the floor, Cinzia let out a choked laugh. "Did we tell you about his Flames?" she wheezed.
There was a beat of complete silence.
"You did," Sawada gritted out at last. "But you didn't mention this."
"Thought so." Cinzia stood up on shaky legs. "I guess … oops?"
Oops, Coyote mouthed, staring at her.
Tsuna wanted to tell them all to shut up and go away.
His head throbbed, as if someone had just swung a hammer at his skull, and he sort of felt like throwing up. His Flames had calmed down, though. Reluctantly, slowly, they bled out of the room and flowed back into his chest.
"There you go," Ottone muttered, patting his back once, twice. "That's it. Now take a deep breath."
He did.
Oxygen came easily, clearing his thoughts and soothing the burning in his lungs.
But – ow – his head still hurt.
"Tsunayo – Tsuna."
Tsuna blinked.
Looked up.
Through bleary eyes, he saw that Timoteo was kneeling in front of him, his cane lying between them. He flinched, trying to crawl away, but Ottone's hand kept him right where he was.
"I apologize," the old man said, his tone gentle. "That was rather rude of me, wasn't it?"
There was no possible way to answer that question right.
Tsuna pressed his lips together.
Now that he was no longer fighting against his Flames for control, other worries started to creep up at the back of his mind. Like the fact that he'd just met for the first time someone who had Flames similar to his own. Or that he had basically launched a wild attack at that person, something no one liked.
"Come on," Ottone said. "Get off the damn floor."
Dazed, Tsuna felt himself be pulled to a standing position. His legs barely supported his weight.
"I'm sorry," Timoteo said again, this time to Ottone and Cinzia.
"Forget it." Ottone scowled. He rolled his shoulders, as if shaking off a bad cramp. "I was … out of bonds. I shouldn't have talked about your boys like that."
"No, you shouldn't have." Timoteo picked up his cane and stood up, too. A ripple of regret ran across his features "But that doesn't excuse my lack of control."
He looked back at Tsuna. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth deepened.
"What you did just now was very brave," Timoteo murmured. "You would have made a splendid leader, Tsunayoshi."
Tsuna blinked again. Caught himself before he wobbled too far to the right and fell right on his face.
Ottone's voice went flat. "You're not taking him with you," he said.
Sawada closed his eyes.
"I'm not," Timoteo said.
Cinzia startled. "But," she started to protest.
"No," Timoteo cut her off, that edge of steel sliding back into his eyes as if it had never been gone. "Young lady, I've lost three sons to men that were both our enemies and allies. Massimo was killed because some people considered his very existence a threat to Federico's future as Decimo."
"But Tsuna's Flames," Cinzia sputtered. "He is so strong already. You've felt it. You can't just–"
Timoteo held up a hand. "Natsume will turn nine in a couple of months," he said. "That's too old to forget he was supposed to lead, too late to introduce another Decimo to the rest of the Famiglia."
"It doesn't have to be that way. Tsuna could be a support for the Decimo."
"Tsunayoshi was gone for years, years during which my men united behind a single heir because there was no one else, because it was the only choice. And we are strong again, as we haven't been in years. I won't put that into jeopardy, not for anyone."
Cinzia stared at him, then at Sawada. "And you're okay with that?" she whispered.
A muscle jumped in Sawada's cheek. "The Famiglia comes first."
"What about your family?"
Timoteo brought down his cane on the floor, hard. "By law and by blood, I already have a successor," he said, and there was no missing the finality of that statement. "This will not change."
"Two heirs are better than one!"
"Maybe. But it would also bring dissension. Internal strife. Especially if we consider the twins' age." Timoteo shook his head. "I've seen what lies down this path."
"It's …" Cinzia glanced at Ottone and winced. "It's not fair."
"It rarely is." Timoteo gazed down at Tsuna with distant eyes. "Perhaps if things had been different from the start, if he'd never disappeared… but these thoughts are useless."
"Then that's it?" Ottone asked. "Your decision is made?"
"Yes." The old man straightened. "Tsunayoshi will be sent away. And let's hope he'll never have to see any of us again."
"He won't," Sawada vowed. "The boys will be safe. I'll see to it personally."
"Of course, you will." Timoteo nodded. "Now then, we've got some work to do." He clapped his hands and glanced at Coyote. "Let's get started. Coyote, I want you to –"
"Give him to me."
Ottone's voice stopped everyone in their tracks.
Tsuna looked up at the man, feeling strangely hollow.
Ottone didn't blink at the various expressions of surprise aimed his way. Only Cinzia didn't seem startled. Her mouth curved in a sad smile, one she hid behind a hand.
"I'm not a mafioso, not anymore, but I belonged to the Famiglia long enough," Ottone continued. "I'll know what to watch for. And money – I'm not rolling in it, but I don't hurt for it either." He let out a sharp breath. "I can ... raise him well."
Sawada gaped. "You?"
"Yeah," Ottone drawled. "Me. Not like it'll change anything for you who ends up saddled with the brat, right?"
"You can't simply decide –"
"I just did."
"But why?"
"Because," Ottone growled, "I know what it's like to be thrown out of the Famiglia for being an inconvenience."
Sawada cursed, abruptly snapping around to march to the other side of the room, his shoulders heaving with each breath.
Coyote threw an inscrutable look at the blond man before focusing on his brother. "I should have seen it coming," he said.
"Yes," Cinzia piped in. "That was kind of obvious, really."
Ottone scowled at them, then glared at Timoteo. "Well? What do you say?"
The old man watched him closely. "Are you sure about this?"
"No, I just like to spout out bullshit about adopting shitty little punks I picked off the fucking streets." Ottone crossed his arms over his chest and glowered death at the world. "Of course, I'm sure."
"Goddammit," Coyote snapped. "Mind your fucking language when you talk to Nono!"
The look of sheer incredulity Cinzia shot him flew right over his head.
"I think," Timoteo said, his lips quirking up at the corners, "that this might just work." He nodded to himself. "Yes, you can keep the boy, Ottone."
"Nono," Sawada whispered, face deathly pale.
Timoteo's expression softened. He shook his head.
"It's for the best, Iemitsu," he said. "For your boys and the Famiglia both."
For a moment, it looked like Sawada would protest. He opened his mouth, his face a mask of indecision.
And then he nodded.
And that.
That nod right there.
It flushed ice in Tsuna's veins and made something in his chest crack.
He blinked. Blindly reached for Cinzia's hand and held on as if it were a lifeline. The adults' conversation drowned on around him, but he couldn't really concentrate on it. He looked down at his feet, wondering why there was a ball the size of a small fist lodged in his throat.
But Sawada had nodded, which meant he agreed, which meant yes, you can take him.
(I don't want him.)
Timoteo's voice dragged him back to the present.
"I need a few moments alone with Tsunayoshi," he was saying. "You can wait outside."
Coyote immediately started for the door. The other three lingered, clearly hesitating, especially Sawada who appeared rooted to the spot.
Timoteo stared at them, hard. "This was not a request. Leave, now."
Cinzia bent down and whispered in Tsuna's ear, "We'll be right outside," before she hurried after Ottone as he stepped out.
Sawada trailed in their wake, the line of his shoulders rigid enough to snap. He paused in the doorframe, his silhouette dark against the outdoor lighting. "The Estraneo," he started.
Timoteo's eyes flashed. "Go. Take Visconti with you."
Sawada mumbled an affirmative. He walked out.
No backward glance. No goodbye.
Nothing.
Just the sight of a wide back moving away.
"Wait," Tsuna called out, the word tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Wait."
Sawada didn't stop, didn't look back. "Sorry," he muttered, then slammed the door shut.
Tsuna exhaled sharply.
He glanced down, expecting to see red and a blade sticking out of his chest. Because he'd just been stabbed, right? But there was no blood on his clothes. The shirt Cinzia had given him was still white, whole and unstained.
It was all very confused in his head, and he had only a vague memory –
("Aren't you glad to finally meet him after so long, Tsu-kun?")
– and the unflinching certainty of his Flames to go on, but –
Oh.
Tsuna stilled.
His Flames.
Maybe they were the reason why Sawada had left him. Maybe he knew about the monster hiding inside Tsuna. Maybe he'd seen the truth – that Tsuna was a killer. That he was broken.
The blade buried in his chest jerked, as if someone had just pushed and twisted.
"Don't blame him," Timoteo said.
Now that they were alone, the old man had allowed his back to drop slightly, bending under the weight of an invisible burden. For the first time since he'd arrived, Tsuna noticed the dark bags under those light brown eyes.
"If you must be angry at someone, then be angry at me, Tsunayoshi."
Tsunayoshi.
He didn't know who that was. He'd never met that boy.
Tsuna could guess, though, because he was slowly accepting the fact that Cinzia and Ottone hadn't made a mistake after all – no matter how unlikely it was that he'd stumbled upon someone who happened to know his family.
"I have one question for you." Timoteo walked closer, leaning on his cane. "Ottone… how did you find him?"
How?
Tsuna swallowed.
He didn't know.
His thoughts went back to that moment when Jenoah had come for him at the hospital. The guard had chased him and, as Tsuna ran away, a single thought had been ringing in his head. He'd wanted to escape, to hide, but above all else, he'd wanted to be safe.
And his Flames had grabbed onto that frantic wish, and they'd made it real.
Through an unknown city they'd guided him, all the way to the bus that had taken him far away from Jenoah. Even when Tsuna had wandered the dark streets of Outside, utterly lost and scared out of his mind, they'd always been there. Nudging, pulling, pushing. Perhaps it was a coincidence that Tsuna had ended up behind Ottone's bakery, perhaps it was not, perhaps his Flames had somehow known – but one thing was clear. Without his Flames, Tsuna wouldn't have survived that first week Outside.
Feeling as if he were moving through thick water, Tsuna lifted a hand and tapped the side of his head.
"The voice," he rasped.
Timoteo nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "I see." And, as someone who also had a monster inside, maybe he did.
The old man went down on one knee in front of Tsuna. For a fraction of a second he seemed to waver. A strange expression flitted across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye.
"I'm sorry," he said.
A chill abruptly ran down Tsuna's spine.
"What –"
Timoteo grabbed his shoulders, yanked him closer, and slapped a hand on Tsuna's forehead.
The world washed away under a wave of orange fire.
.
.
... thoughts?
Thanks for reading and the reviews (especially Ekourege and OperaEagle!) You guys are awesome.
See you next chapter.