Tsuna cautiously peeked around the corner of his building.
No black suits. No fedoras. No hitmen.
The coast was clear.
Or was it?
He squinted at the crowd of passersby, unwilling to step out in the open, not with that persistent feeling at the back of his mind insisting that something was off. A woman threw him a strange look as she trotted down the street. Another glared at him. Tsuna fought off a blush but didn't move. He checked his surroundings again.
Still nothing.
Just regular people heading off to work.
He let out a breath.
Reborn was long gone, everything was fine, and he was about to get his ass kicked for being late.
"Looking for someone?"
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Tsuna yelped, threw himself backward, and slammed into the nearest wall. He stayed there for a second, gawking at the tall figure standing in front of him. Reborn watched him back, eyes black and dark and flat as if they could weigh and dissect a soul in a single glance. Tsuna had the distinct impression he'd been found severely lacking.
Reborn raised a slow, unimpressed brow..
No, dammit. No.
This wasn't how things were supposed to be.
"Wha-what –" Tsuna picked his jaw off the ground. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Another brow went up.
"I mean. What are you doing here? Sir?"
Reborn stepped back with a snort. "Drop the sir. It's not necessary."
Sure. Fine. Arguing with the professional criminal didn't sound very smart anyway.
Reborn tilted his face back as he took in the whole building. It was difficult to say for sure, but it seemed like his attention zeroed in on the top floor – on Tsuna's windows – with alarming accuracy.
"So. This is where you live."
"I, huh, yes? But why are you–"
"You should move," Reborn interrupted. "The building's too old, barely worth the effort to break in, and its location is just terrible."
Tsuna's mouth closed with a click.
Reborn prowled toward the front door. Strong fingers grabbed the big door knob and gave a hard yank. The door let out a distressed creak and shook on its hinges.
"Yes." Reborn made a disgusted sound. "That's what I thought."
Tsuna stared.
It was probably too late to go back to bed and pretend the day hadn't started yet, he thought distantly. To bury himself under a mountain of blanket and wait for the storm of weird and crazy to blow over.
His hands clenched into fists.
By the time he'd left Little Trinci last night, Reborn had been long gone and Ottone had just finished snarling threats into his cellphone. The Vongola had been warned. They knew about Reborn, and that should have been more than guarantee enough to ensure his swift departure.
So what the hell.
"And those windows, they're perfect for assassinations." Apparently, Reborn wasn't done with criticizing every square meter of the neighborhood. "Anyone standing on the roofs across the street could put a bullet in your head without being seen."
Awesome.
Now Tsuna was never going to sleep again.
"People don't worry about that kind of stuff," he said. "They just don't."
"Ah, yes. Civilians." Reborn suddenly grinned, a baring of teeth that could never be mistaken as friendly. "So easy to kill."
Tsuna closed his eyes.
He started to count to ten. Then he did it again. Backwards. And in Japanese.
This.
This was exactly why he'd drawn a line in the sand years ago and decided to never dip a single toe onto the other side. Something had to be seriously wrong when a man's first thought about a location was its potential for assassination – for death and murder weapons and body counts.
Something poked Tsuna's forehead.
Warmth, golden and purposeful, tingled across the surface of his skin. It sank underneath a moment later and Tsuna's eyes flew open. Visions of orange fire filled his mind, and no, hell no, he wasn't going through that again, not over his dead body.
He jerked away with a hiss. "What are you doing?"
Reborn looked down at the fingers he'd used to touch Tsuna, rubbing the tips together. "Checking your Flames," he said absently, then paused. "Flames are –"
"I know what Flames are," Tsuna snapped, bitterness burning the back of his throat. "I know."
Nero's sunlight had been playful and fragile, Vito's fire had felt like the heaviness in the air before a lightning strike, and Timoteo's Flames tasted of steel and determination and –
Pain exploded in Tsuna's shin.
He dropped into a crouch with a squeal, cradling a knee.
"Did you just kick me?"
Reborn flicked a speck of dust from his shoulder. "You were being rude." He glanced down at Tsuna, eyes were dancing with laughter. "I don't like rude people."
This was some sort of nightmare. Tsuna's blood pressure skyrocketed.
"What the –"
Reborn kicked him again.
"Ow!"
.
.
Little Trinci's front shop was dark and empty as Tsuna entered the bakery thirty minutes later. He'd barely stepped over the threshold when Cinzia swooped in from nowhere and whisked him upstairs.
"We're not opening today," she announced as she shoved him into a chair in the kitchen. A plate full of bacon and eggs was promptly slid in front of him. "So take your time with breakfast."
"We're closed?"
The last time Little Trinci hadn't opened, Ottone and Cinzia had both been down with a cold that was eerily similar to the bubonic plague. It had flattened the two of them for a whole week and Tsuna had been too young to handle the bakery alone. Not opening meant something was seriously wrong.
Tsuna grimaced.
"It's because of him, isn't it?"
Cinzia pointed at the bacon. "Eat."
He picked up his fork.
"If by him," Cinzia continued, "you mean the stubborn asshole who won't go away, then yes, you'd be right."
She banged open a couple of cupboards and started making tea.
Tsuna swallowed. "Why is he still here?"
Cinzia threw him a narrow-eyed look. "Still here?"
"He was waiting for me when I left home."
A string of colorful curses exploded into the room.
Tsuna stoically weathered the storm. "Tell me," he pushed. "What's going on?"
"Nothing." Cinzia slammed a cup on the table. Hot liquid sloshed over the rim. "Nothing's going on and that's the problem."
"But they know," Tsuna protested. "They know. Ottone called them. I heard him talking to Coyote."
"Oh, sure, Ottone told the bastards alright." Cinzia stabbed a teaspoon in her cup and stirred furiously. "Nono even called back a little after you left last night. Sounded really pissed off."
Tsuna's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Timoteo – of ice and emptiness and haunting silence.
He unclenched his teeth. "Then that's it. If Timoteo knows about Reborn, everything's going to be fine."
Cinzia shook her head. "It's not that simple."
"It is," Tsuna insisted. "They just need to tell Reborn to leave."
"Nope. Not this time."
"But why?"
"Because," Cinzia snapped, "the world's not all sunshine and unicorns shitting sparkling rainbows all over the place. And because Ottone is a moron and he hung up on Nono instead of actually talking."
Tsuna took a moment to register her words.
"They … fought?"
"Are you really surprised?"
No.
No, he wasn't.
Tsuna rubbed a hand down his face.
"Stop with the kicked-puppy look," Cinzia grumbled. "It's too damn cute and I want to stay angry."
Tsuna glared at her through his fingers. "I'm not cute."
She rolled her eyes.
He quickly steered the conversation back on tracks. "I just – I don't understand. Timoteo doesn't want people to know about me. Nothing has changed."
"You're right." Cinzia squirmed around until she'd managed to sit cross-legged without falling off her chair. "Nono isn't happy with the jackass hitman meeting you, and they tried to yank on his leash to bring him to heel, but..."
"But?"
"It didn't go well."
Oh, God.
Tsuna could imagine in vivid details what a disagreement between a mafia boss and a hitman would look like. It involved a lot of violence. And blood. Gallons and gallons of blood.
"Did Reborn kill someone?" he whispered, horrified.
"Idiot." Cinzia pointed her teaspoon at him. "Murdering his employer would be kinda counter-productive, don't you think?" She shrugged. "Basically, they told him to get lost, he said no, and now everybody's stuck in a standstill."
What.
No, seriously.
What.
"He said no?"
"Apparently when you're a hitman of Reborn's reputation, you can do pretty much whatever the hell you please, and there's not a lot of people who can say anything about it."
"No one can ignore the Vongola!"
"Well." Cinzia glared down at her cup. "He did."
Tsuna gaped.
But the promise, he thought, frantic. What about the promise?
Years ago, the Vongola had looked at Tsuna and saw a problem that would have to be buried and forgotten – and they'd promised. Sawada had walked away, had left Tsuna behind, and he'd sworn the mafia would never bother him again. One last betrayal, he hadn't said, in exchange for a normal life.
And now they dared – they actually dared – to renege and let some stranger with trigger-happy fingers mess with Tsuna's life?
Cinzia reached over the table and patted his hand. "Don't worry. We'll deal with the bastard." She smiled. "And if push comes to shove, I've still got that little bit of arsenic stashed away somewhere."
"Don't say that." Tsuna groaned. "Not with a smile."
Cinzia wiggled her eyebrows. She looked ridiculous. Tsuna snorted. He started eating again and the kitchen lapsed into silence.
Maybe Reborn had been on to something, after all. Maybe moving away wasn't such a bad idea. Surely no one would ever bother him again if he lived like a hermit in the middle of Siberia. Then Tsuna remembered about all the snow and blizzards and negative temperatures, and realized it wasn't going to work.
Crap.
"Fucking useless fuckers."
Heavy stomping headed toward them from the hallway. Ottone stormed into the kitchen with all the poise of a thundercloud.
Cinzia calmly sipped her tea. "No good news?"
"Stupid assholes," Ottone snarled. "You'd think they'd have pulled their goddamn heads out of their fucking asses by now."
Cinzia looked at Tsuna. "That means no good news."
"Yeah." Tsuna tasted ash on his tongue. "I'd guessed."
"Timoteo's being a chicken shit." Ottone yanked a chair back and sat down heavily. "He's spewing some bullshit about Reborn and confidentiality clauses and how everything's under control." He ground his teeth together. "Nothing's under control. He's just scared."
That again.
Tsuna looked at Cinzia, then back at Ottone. "Timoteo is the boss of the Vongola," he said, because neither of them seemed to understand what that meant. "He's the head of one the strongest Famiglias in the world. He can't be scared."
Ottone scoffed. "Oh, there's a lot of shit that scares Timoteo."
"Reborn." Cinzia's lips tightened. "Is he really that strong?"
Ottone grunted an affirmative.
Dread coiled in Tsuna's belly. Panic followed hot on its heels.
"Then Reborn can't know about me," he said quickly. "He can't."
Ottone glared at him. "That cat's already out of the fucking bag, isn't it?"
Bullseye.
Tsuna winced.
"So he's staying?" he asked, each word thick with disbelief. "They're just going to let him stay?"
"For now. Timoteo won't start a war if he can help it."
"A war." Tsuna blinked. "He's just one man."
"No," Ottone said, sharp and quiet and pissed off. "He's a Sun, one who's strong enough to make Timoteo hesitate. The damage he could do to the Vongola before they manage to take him down would be massive."
"Then." Tsuna glanced at Cinzia. "Then we do nothing?"
She frowned.
"Bastard will get bored soon enough," Ottone said. " He's not the type to settle in one place for long. He'll leave."
Tsuna's breath hitched in his throat.
Cinzia noticed. She once again reached over the table to grab his hand.
"Hey," she murmured. "Don't freak out. We'll figure something out. It'll be fine."
Her voice was calm, familiar. It sounded like home.
The tight feeling that had been growing in Tsuna's chest since the previous day suddenly crystalized into something solid and evident. It hit him out of nowhere, a gentle and soft realization that was suddenly there, clear and strong and unshakable.
Tsuna looked down at Cinzia's slender fingers and thought, oh.
Because the monsters of his childhood weren't gone. Because somewhere out there, the mafia machine was still churning. Men died screaming and women disappeared in flashes of Flames. Kids were gutted for sparks of elusive fire and sad old men poured frost into flesh and bones to cover their mistakes.
Tsuna didn't care.
Nightmares hid in the dark. They could rip and rend and tear until there was nothing left but a thousand pieces that bled with every gasping breath you took. Protecting meant pain and death, and sometimes even all that wasn't enough. Sometimes you struggled and cried and begged and still drowned in a sea of red.
That was fine.
Tsuna had fought the fight. He'd lost and shattered, but he'd survived. He was alive. He was still sane.
Let someone else be the hero, let someone else save the world. As long as the people he cared about remained untouched, as long as no danger was aimed at them, then Tsuna was happy to live in his little neck of the woods.
Perhaps that made him inhuman. Too cold and selfish and indifferent. It didn't matter. He refused to burn for people who had almost destroyed him.
But.
Ottone and Cinzia?
He loved them. Like a man dying of thirst in front of a lake, like an ache that never went away, like a jealous, ugly person that would always, always, refuse to let go.
There was nothing at all he wouldn't do to keep them safe.
Tsuna stared at Cinzia's fingers.
Yes, was the obvious answer. For them.
Something deep inside trembled in response. It shook and shuddered, ripples running over the surface of still water, and the cracks in Tsuna's soul widened.
Ottone stood up and went to pour some coffee in a mug.
Cinzia stared at his back. "Timoteo's not the only one who should be afraid," she said. "Reborn's strong, but he can't take on the Vongola by himself and win."
"And no one's happy about that stalemate," Ottone said. He glanced at Tsuna. "Stay sharp. Don't do anything stupid. I bet he'll be gone by the end of the week."
Tsuna didn't say anything. A numb sort of resignation descended over him like a cloak.
His hands were shaking.
Blue and stiff and cold.
(Break-the-ice!)
No.
Not yet.
.
.
Contrary to Ottone's predictions, Reborn didn't leave by the end of the week.
Tsuna couldn't say he was surprised.
Disappointed? Yes.
Depressed? Definitely.
But surprised?
Absolutely not.
"Your situational awareness is just pathetic," Reborn said the following morning as he appeared out of thin air and almost gave Tsuna a coronary.
"Do you make a habit of tripping on your own feet?" was his snippy question on the third day.
"Stand tall," he ordered two days later. "Lift your head. A man should walk with confidence, not look like a scared rabbit about to bolt."
The whole situation was nerve-racking and annoying as hell and he was going to snap and throttle Reborn before the cocky asshole had the chance to get bored and leave for greener pastures. Tsuna had never had a stalker before, but he thought the word was a perfect fit for Reborn.
A red ball rolled to a stop in front of him.
Tsuna carefully kicked it away.
Further ahead, a bunch of kids chorused a loud thank you as they ran off to pick up their soccer game.
With a loud sigh, Tsuna went back to staring gloomily at the grass between his feet, the bags of grocery by his side rustling softly in the wind. The fenced playground on his left buzzed with activity as children dashed from swings to roundabouts to sandboxes. Their parents were peppered all around the playing area, gathered in small clusters of chattering moms and dads that were almost as loud as the children.
Tsuna let his head fall back. He didn't want to go home yet. The weather was great, warm and sunny without a single cloud on the horizon. It'd feel like a waste to stay indoors. Tsuna closed his eyes and allowed thoughts of stalkers and broken promises to drift away. His body started to relax. On days like this it was almost easy to forget.
But then, of course, without any warning whatsoever, Reborn dropped on the bench right next to him.
"So," the hitman said, all suave charm as he casually crossed his legs and leaned back. "You speak Japanese."
Tsuna clutched the front of his shirt. "You have to stop doing this," he wheezed.
"Keeping tracks of your surrounding is a basic skill." Reborn flapped an unsympathetic hand in the air. "You should thank me. I'm helping you."
"By giving me heart attacks?"
"If that's what it takes."
Jerk.
Tsuna's hand twitched toward his grocery bags. He briefly considered smashing Reborn's head with a cucumber. The sound would be very satisfying. A loud crunch underlying a bang that would surely make him feel infinitely better.
Reborn slid him a look.
Black eyes drilled into Tsuna's, as if his every thought was out there for the world to see. Reborn's lips stretched into a sharp line, something in its curve screaming at Tsuna to try, just try it.
Yeah – no.
Tsuna didn't have the courage to be that stupid, not when merely standing beside the man felt like sharing space with something big and hungry that had fangs.
His cheeks grew hot. "Help me less," he muttered, looking away. "Please."
Reborn snorted. "Well?"
"Well, what?" Tsuna kicked at a little rock.
Getting up and walking away probably wouldn't help. The hitman would just follow him.
"Japanese," Reborn repeated impatiently. "I heard you talking to that tourist earlier. Your accent's pretty good. You sounded almost like a native speaker."
Tsuna gritted his teeth. He had given directions to a group of lost women more than one hour ago. Which meant Reborn had been following him since he'd left home, which meant the whole stalker thing was really happening.
"Tsuna?"
"Yes," he answered tightly. "I started learning Japanese four years ago."
"Hmm." Reborn clearly picked up on the note of annoyance in Tsuna's tone. His lips quirked at the corners. "Got any plans to travel to Japan?"
Tsuna shook his head. "No."
"Maybe you should."
"I don't have the money."
"I'm sure you could come up with something. Staying over at a relative's house is an option. You'd save on living expenses."
Tsuna threw the hitman a dirty look. "I said no."
"Oh?" Reborn smirked. "Did I hit a sore spot?"
"It's none of your business," Tsuna retorted sharply. The shift in language registered. He blinked. "You speak Japanese?"
"Obviously." Reborn's smirk widened at Tsuna's dumbstruck expression, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Close your mouth. You look ridiculous."
"It's just… very unexpected?"
Reborn shrugged. "Japanese has become something of a necessity in the last few months."
He wasn't going to pry, Tsuna told himself sternly. It didn't concern him and clearly the less he knew, the better off he was.
His traitorous mouth opened.
"A necessity?" he asked.
Reborn nodded. "A work-related necessity. One of my future employers comes from Japan and I thought it couldn't hurt our business relationship to learn his language."
"Huh." Tsuna carefully didn't consider what Reborn meant by employers. Then he frowned. "Wait – in the last few months?"
"Of course," Reborn said. "It's not like it takes years to learn a couple of words."
Tsuna reeled back.
He looked in horror at Reborn's disinterested expression, his mind swimming with the hours upon hours he'd spent hammering kanjis in his brain.
"It does," he said with indignation. "It really takes years."
"Then you didn't try hard enough." A sly expression fell over Reborn's face. "I did notice you can be very slow at times. Maybe I should start calling you something else." He paused dramatically. "What do you think of Toroi-Tsuna?"
Tsuna's thoughts sort of went blank for a second.
"No?" Reborn leaned a little forward. "What about Aho-Tsuna? Or Baka-Tsuna?"
Dumb. Slow-witted. Idiot.
What.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, I quite like that last one. Baka-Tsuna. Fitting, isn't it? And it has a nice ring to it, too."
"No, it doesn't!"
"Baka-Tsuna it is."
Tsuna let out an outraged squawk.
Reborn snickered. "Did you say something, Baka-Tsuna?"
Was this real?
Was this his life now?
"That's not fair," Tsuna sputtered. "Don't go and decide by yourself –"
"I just did."
"No. Don't – don't call me –"
"Baka-Tsuna?" Reborn supplied helpfully.
"Yes! That! You can't call me that."
Reborn blinked. The air around him changed. He went still, his head cocked to the side as he watched Tsuna. "I can't, huh."
"Right," Tsuna said firmly. "You can't."
"Is that an order?"
A what.
"I, hm, yes?"
"Oh." Reborn hummed. "I see."
And then he smiled, a jagged and ugly slash slipping his face in two.
Tsuna's objections died on his lips.
"Let's make one thing clear, little Vongola heir," Reborn said, calm and composed with a warning wrapped around his words like barbed wire. "There's only one thing that I hate more than badly made coffee, and it's people who think they are entitled to telling me what I can and can't do."
Heat bloomed in the air.
It slowly curled around Tsuna and ran down his back like a ghostly touch. A jolt of adrenaline shot through his system. He froze.
"So if I were you, I'd be very careful with what I say next. Baka-Tsuna."
The wave of heat moved up, pinching and snapping and just this side of hurting. A little part of Tsuna's hindbrain – the one that remembered living in caverns and hiding from the dark – started to shriek like a siren, something about predator and danger and get out.
That was it, he thought, half hysterical. That was how he was going to die and later, when people found his body, they would only shake their heads at the stupid teenager who just had to go and be a smart ass at the unstable psychopath with a gun.
Spots of light appeared across Tsuna's vision. He started to feel light-headed.
Reborn released him from his stare.
"Breathe," he said flatly. "Don't pass out on me. That would be troublesome to explain."
Breathe.
Right. Sure.
Tsuna should probably do that.
Now.
Right now.
He gasped, gulping in oxygen and swaying a little.
Reborn laughed, a low, mocking chuckle that held no sympathy. The heat in the air vanished.
Tsuna was cold again.
When he looked up a moment later, Reborn was gone.
.
.
Reborn's POV
(first night after meeting Tsuna).
.
Reborn didn't know what had made him stop on his way back to Rome, but if he absolutely had to name a reason, then he'd blame boredom.
He'd just finished a job down in the South – a retired old man, hardly worth the effort of pulling the trigger – when he'd remembered a line on a report he'd read the previous month. The document had been full of interesting details, such as Ottone Nougat's personal address and the name of his workplace. Some idiot had just left the file out there lying on a desk, and as far as Reborn was concerned, anything that wasn't locked away in an underground bunker was fair game.
And so.
Ottone Nougat.
Reborn remembered very well the grumpy asshole who'd stalked the headquarters' hallways more than a decade ago. He'd been snappy and powerful and terribly amusing in his foul temper.
Whispers of The World's Greatest had barely started to trail in Reborn's wake back then, but he'd already struck a deal with Vongola Nono and his Guardians. He would have had to be blind and deaf and stupid not to pick up on the tensions existing between the Storm Guardian and his younger sibling. The conflict between the two brothers had been something of a huge scandal after all, and in the end, Ottone had been chased away.
With his Flames no longer being pulled in two different directions, Nono had finally harmonized with Coyote. Ottone had found himself alone and bitter on the outskirt of the Famiglia while everyone else rejoiced.
And then, because life could be shitty like that, the man had gone into Discord one month later and lost his Flames.
So, yes.
If Reborn had to choose, he'd say it was boredom that had drawn him to the ex-mafioso. An apathic sense of curiosity had made him stare at a map, remember a name and an address, and think, why not?
The idea was to have a look at Ottone's life, needle him a little, see what made him twitch, and maybe get some ammunitions to use against Coyote. That prickly asshole was just too uptight. Someone had to keep him dancing on his toes. It was Reborn's pleasure to take on such a responsibility.
Except that things hadn't gone as planned. Instead of a nice break in the monotony that was becoming his life, Reborn had stepped on a landmine.
A fucking nuclear landmine.
Reborn's feet hung in the air, a two-story fall yawning wide open beneath him as he sat on the roof of a building that should have been demolished years ago.
Across the street, Sawada Call-Me-Tsuna Tsunayoshi opened a window. He awkwardly leaned out and proceeded to close his shutters for the night.
Reborn stared.
Tsuna – twin brother of Sawada Natsume, the future Decimo of the Vongola Famiglia, and son of Sawada Iemitsu, current leader of the CEDEF – wobbled dangerously as if he'd just slipped on a slick surface.
It was almost too painful to watch.
The boy barely managed to yank the shutters close without falling off the window. He never checked the street for threats, never concerned himself with what was going on outside of his apartment, as if the world was safe, as if he had nothing to fear.
Reborn counted seven different ways he could have killed Tsuna during the past ten seconds. Probably more, if he'd felt properly motivated.
Lights turned on in the small room next to the one Tsuna had disappeared into – a bathroom, most likely. Shadows flickered as someone moved around.
Reborn watched from the opposite building and wondered what sort of moron let a Vongola heir live outside headquarter without supervision.
Iemitsu, he decided instantly. Whatever had happened, Iemitsu had to be involved.
Reborn had heard all about the man's family situation, about the abduction of his eldest son and the ensuing search. Who hadn't? The Vongolas had looked for the missing twin for years. Wars had been waged over his disappearance. People had been hurt. People had died.
And there he was, Sawada fucking Tsunayoshi, alone and unprotected and obscenely clueless. His own father's orders had probably played a huge part in the whole fiasco too, which meant Nono had to be aware of everything.
For the first time ever, Reborn wondered if the old man was going senile. A Sky of Timoteo's caliber going insane wasn't a pleasant thought to contemplate.
Something vibrated in his chest pocket.
Reborn dug out a phone from his suit. A name flashed on the small screen.
It was about damn time.
Accepting the call, Reborn gave a polite greeting.
Nono's voice answered with a curt, "Reborn."
Oh, this was going to be fun.
"I heard you met the boy."
"I did."
"Shit," Nono muttered, then louder, "You will tell no one about him, absolutely no one."
"Of course not," Reborn said, legs swinging lazily in emptiness.
He was a professional. Did that not mean anything to anyone?
"As per my contract with the Vongola, I cannot disclose private information that would endanger your Famiglia without rendering null and void any agreement we may have – which would give you every right to put an end to our … partnership"
That sort of situation would be one suicidal kind of headache for everyone involved.
Reborn's hand drifted down to brush against the barrel of one of his guns.
"Good," Nono said, noise buzzing in the background. "I'm sending someone to pick you up right now. We'll meet tomorrow morning to discuss –"
"No," Reborn said.
"Excuse me?"
"I said no."
There was a long pause on the other side of the line, as if Nono was holding his phone out in front of him and staring at it incredulously.
"I'm not going anywhere," Reborn added, observing Tsuna's building.
The light in the bathroom was turned off. Reborn looked at the wall, guessing at the boy's movements behind it. Bullets imbued with Flames could easily go through those bricks. Tsuna was basically a plump sitting-duck waiting to be shot down.
Reborn could only shake his head.
Sloppy.
So sloppy of the Vongola.
"I think you're mistaken," Nono was saying in his ear. "Don't confuse an order with a request." The old man's voice went hard and unyielding, like shackles inside each word trying to snap around Reborn's neck. "You will do as you're told."
Obey.
Bow.
Submit.
Reborn snarled.
Anger, intense and all consuming, imploded in his bloodstream.
Sun Flames flared into existence. They slipped out in the air like a living shadow and hints of gold started to dance along the roof, alive and defensive and furious. They swirled around him, looking for a threat, for a target, and it would have taken but a thought to unleash them and wreck the whole street into smoking ruins.
Reborn let out a sharp breath. He grabbed his Flames and methodically pulled them back under control, inch by inch, bit by bit.
"Don't forget, Nono," he ground out. "I am not one of your men. I don't belong to your Famiglia, and you don't get to give me orders. We are business partners, nothing more."
He spat that last word with disgust, his skin crawling.
No one would put a collar around his neck. No one. Reborn would kill and kill and bathe the world in blood before he allowed that to happen.
More silence on the other side of the line.
Reborn closed his eyes, centering himself. The last remnant of Sun Flames winked out of the air soon after. The world was once again dark and cold.
"Apologies," Nono said, tone stilted.
"Accepted," Reborn clipped.
"But I still don't think you understand the severity of the situation," Nono carried on. "This could have disastrous consequences."
Reborn scoffed. "You have the equivalent of a nuke wandering the countryside like a clueless civilian. The severity of the situation is fully understood."
"We can't allow the boy's location to be revealed."
"That was never my intentions."
"Then pray tell," Nono snapped, finally reaching the end of his tether, "what are your intentions then?"
You goddamn pain in the ass, he was too polite to say.
Reborn smirked. His eyes went back to Tsuna's shutters.
"I'm thinking about taking a couple of days off," he said. "Just kick back and relax for a while."
"That's out of the question," Nono immediately said.
"I'm not asking for permission."
Nono cursed. "Tsuna doesn't belong to the Famiglia," he said. "He has nothing to do with us. I plan to keep things that way for as long as possible."
Reborn blinked at the naive words. It was almost cute. Utterly ridiculous, but cute.
"You can't be serious."
"I'm deadly serious."
"That's never going to work," Reborn retorted. "Not when he looks like the spitting image of Primo."
"Very few people know what Giotto looked like. It'll be fine."
And now it was Reborn's turn to hold his phone in front of him and stare at it incredulously.
"What about the Decimo, then?" he asked. "Is he planning to hide his face for the rest of his life? Because that's his twin brother we're talking about."
"Dammit, Reborn! I have to try. For the boys and the Vongola."
This whole thing was just one big clusterfuck after another.
Reborn decided he'd done his part. If people insisted on shooting themselves in the foot despite his warnings, then it had nothing to do with him.
"I'm not leaving," he said.
Nono grumbled. "You're being particularly difficult about this." A wary pause. "Why?"
"Because I like watching other people messing up," Reborn drawled, mouth stretching into a mean smile. "It's entertaining and I'm bored."
Except that wasn't it.
Not exactly.
"Yes, I thought that would be something like this," Nono said, sounding like he might be rubbing a finger between his brows. "Short of sending my Guardians, I suppose there's nothing I can do to stop you."
"Not really," Reborn said even as a flat, icy voice murmured in his mind, you would all die.
There was a brief lull in the conversation. Reborn watched Tsuna's apartment and could detect no movement inside.
"The boy. Tsunayoshi." Nono cleared his throat. "What do you think of him?"
Useless, was Reborn's first thought. Ignorant. Clumsy. Weak.
He felt his lips curl in disdain.
Tsuna was a walking disaster, one that stumbled and tripped on everything that stood in his way. Even staying still seemed like a health hazard, as if the ground had become his personal enemy somewhere along the line.
It was aggravating and strangely pitiful all at once.
And yet.
There was something about the boy. A call. A pull. Something that wasn't related to charisma or physical strength or even Flame attraction.
Reborn had taken one glance at Sawada Tsunayoshi, and he hadn't been able to look away.
It was... intriguing.
Leaving wasn't an option until he figured out what the hell was up with that.
"He's a civilian," Reborn answered diplomatically.
"Right." Nono snorted. "That's what we were aiming for."
Reborn rolled his eyes.
"I want a report," Nono said abruptly. "Every day without exception."
A compromise, then. The boss of the Vongola was extending an olive branch and Reborn wouldn't throw it back in his face.
Not right then anyway.
"That sounds reasonable," he said, thinking that no one was mentioning the length of said reports.
"And we will have to meet soon. This isn't something I can ignore."
"I'll check my schedule," Reborn said. "See if I can squeeze you in sometimes this month."
The sound of Nono's gritting his teeth was perfectly audible.
Reborn snickered.
"You're aware," the old man said tightly, "that Ottone is going to try to kill you every day. From what I've heard, he's grown rather protective of Tsunayoshi. And the temper of the woman he's living with isn't anything to sneeze at either."
Reborn grinned. "I already talked to them."
"Dare I even ask how it went?"
"No one died."
Nono sighed.
The sound betrayed more weariness than he probably knew.
So old already, Reborn distantly realized.
Nono was over seventy-four. The inheritance ceremony wasn't far off. Everything was about to change for the Vongola. It was highly doubtful that Tsuna would be spared.
"Just. Be careful, Reborn."
Reborn hung up without answering.
Where would the fun be if he stayed careful?
.
.
Guess who's a freaking moron and made a mistake when closing a word document? I lost thousands of words and a good chunk of this chapter had to be rewritten. It took a long time. I'm pissed off. This sucks.
Anyway.
So here we have Reborn : a stubborn asshole who hates being controlled. Right now he is bored, he's found a toy, and he won't go away until he's played with it all he wants. Bonus points if he gets to piss off the people trying to control him too.
Thank you for reading,
Rei.