A feminine voice shattered the silence, shrill and outraged and loud enough to break every window in a ten-mile radius.
Lucio startled.
"What was that?" he asked, throwing a bewildered glance over his shoulder.
Tsuna stubbornly refused to look up, trying hard to ignore the feeling of impending doom creeping up his spine.
A shout.
Swearing.
"Seriously." Lucio stood up, slipping his phone in his back pocket. "What's going on?"
Tsuna stared at the birthday cake he'd been putting frosting on. There was a cat drawn in its center. He'd used black berries to make the eyes – eyes that now seemed to glare at him reproachfully, as if to say that all this was entirely and undoubtedly his fault. He took off his apron.
Lucio had already started for the door. "I'll go –"
"Stay here." Tsuna snagged Lucio's shirt as he walked past him. "Wait for me. It's nothing."
Well, you know, if nothing could ever apply to snarky assassins with a hat fetish.
Lucio frowned, clearly unconvinced.
"Just stay here," Tsuna insisted. "I'll be right back."
With one last warning glance, he slipped out of the kitchen, half expecting to find smokes and rubbles on the other side of the door.
The front shop was still intact. Nothing had been destroyed, no bodies littered the floor, and blood hadn't been spilled – but there stopped the good news.
Cinzi stood in the middle of the bakery, arms crossed and radiating enough hostility to launch a rocket into outer space. In front of her, Reborn had hopped on the counter and was sitting next to the register machine, apparently impermeable to the ferocious looks aimed his way, as if Cinzia's glares were dry peas bouncing off an armor.
The only witness to the scene was a customer in her early twenties. The young woman had frozen beside the display cases and appeared to be doing her best to melt in the background of cookies and croissants. Tsuna didn't blame her. He kind of wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
Cinzia caught sight of him.
"Tsuna, good timing," she gritted out, never breaking eye-contact with Reborn. "I'm going to kill this jackass. You can hold him while I stab him in the heart.
The young woman behind them gasped.
Tsuna turned toward her with a smile. "She's kidding."
"Am I?" Cinzia muttered.
For Christ's sake.
"We've talked about this."
Cinzia scoffed, teeth clenched and chin angled a couple of inches up in a move that clearly read, don't get in my way, the fucker's already dead.
Tsuna widened his eyes pointedly. Pissing off the dangerous psychopath with the guns is a bad idea.
Cinzia hesitated, hopefully understanding the general gist of Tsuna's message.
"Are we done?" Reborn cut in, sounding a little bored. For someone who was about to be violently murdered, the bastard didn't look nearly as concerned as he should be.
"No, we're not done," Cinzia hissed, whirling around. "You're putting my family in danger. That makes you a dead man walking."
The bell at the front door chimed. The young woman hurried away without a backward glance.
Nobody paid her any attention.
"You better watch your back," Cinzia continued, stabbing a finger toward Reborn. "Because if you so much as breathe wrong, I'll be burying your cold body somewhere dark and slimy. No one will find you until next century."
Reborn stared at her. "You're adorable."
"Ado –" Cinzia choked. "Adorable?"
It was awe-inspiring, the amount of sheer homicide she could put in her voice.
Reborn smiled, a curved line that just dripped with arrogance. "Barking is all good, but sometimes you need to actually bite. Back up your words with some actions."
Cinzia's nostrils flared.
Forget about biting, she looked ready to rip Reborn's throat out with her teeth. She'd go straight for the jugular, too. Tsuna could already see it, gore and all.
He panicked a little. "Stop making her angry!"
Reborn glanced at him with wide and innocent eyes. "I'm a gentleman. I don't go around making people angry."
"You." Cinzia let out a low snarl. "Sonovabitch."
And then she wheeled around and marched right out of the front shop.
The hairs on the back of Tsuna's neck stood on end. Unease crawled through his veins. Something wasn't right. This shouldn't have been so easy.
"Was it something I said?" Reborn asked dryly in the ensuing silence.
Twelve days.
Twelve days of this and Tsuna was ready to throw in the towel.
Ever since Reborn had come into their lives, he'd made a sport of winding up Ottone and Cinzia into daily fits of apoplectic rage. Like a kid with a stick who didn't know when to quit, he kept on poking and prodding as if he had absolutely no fear of the sleeping bear.
It was exhausting.
Tsuna had barely turned eighteen and already he felt like an old man on the bad side of his nineties – one that ran himself ragged trying to keep up with a bunch of crazy teenagers.
"I hate you so much right now," he mumbled. "So much."
Reborn laughed.
Tsuna wobbled over to the counter on legs that had turned the consistency of wet noodles.
"Aren't you getting bored?" he asked, a little desperate. "Don't you have more important things to do? Somewhere else?"
"I'm on a vacation," Reborn anwered easily.
The world shifted five inches to the side.
"Here?"
"Yes." Black eyes laughed at him, dark and mean. "So many places to visit. So many interesting people."
Bullshit.
He probably just wanted to see how much he could mess with Tsuna before something snapped. The psycho wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over it. He'd get a good laugh out of the whole disaster and move on into the sunset without hesitation or regret.
Vacations?
No way.
"Tsuna?" Lucio's voice suddenly came from the kitchen. "What are you doing?"
Hinges let out a little squeak as someone pushed the door open. Footsteps headed toward them.
Tsuna closed his eyes.
The day was just getting better and better, wasn't it?
"I told you to wait for me."
Lucio walked closer. "Cinzia looked real mad," he said, which could only mean, I ran away as fast as possible.
Fair enough.
Cinzia on a warpath was a real terror. You either took cover or suffered the consequences.
Tsuna nodded, hands clenching into tight fists. This could still work out. The trick was to act nonchalant. To stay calm and composed. Lucio didn't need to know – he wouldn't know. Everything was under control.
And then Lucio got his first good look at Reborn. He paused mid-step.
"Oh, him," Tsuna said lightly. "He's just –"
"Which Famiglia are you from?" Lucio asked Reborn with a scowl.
So much for nonchalance.
Tsuna's lips parted in shock.
What.
The hell.
Tsuna gave Reborn's body a quick once-over, wondering what had betrayed him as a murderous asshole with a penchant for late-night stalking. Nothing jumped at him, but again, he wasn't an expert.
Reborn raised an unimpressed brow. "Who's asking?"
Lucio squared his shoulders. "Name's Lucio. I'm with the Becci Famiglia. You've probably heard of us."
"Ah, yes," Reborn drawled. "The Becci Famiglia. Of course. Very famous."
The mocking edge in his voice was about as subtle as a stampeding herd of buffaloes.
Lucio certainly didn't miss it. He bristled. "What about you? What about your Famiglia?"
"I'm an independant contractor," Reborn said. "I don't have a one."
"Huh."
"Is it a problem?"
Lucio turned away without answering. "Don't trust him," he told Tsuna.
Well, yeah. Obviously.
"I'm serious. Guys like him are dangerous."
Tsuna's eyebrows creased. "Like him?"
"You know, people without a Famiglia," Lucio explained, glaring at Reborn. "Thieves and liars who wouldn't know loyalty even if it bit them in the ass."
That sounded suspiciously like a case of the pot calling the kettle black.
Thieves and liars, indeed.
"Doesn't that apply to everyone in the mafia?" Tsuna asked, not entirely squashing the edge of bitterness in his voice.
Lucio shot him an irritated glance. "Of course not. A Famiglia has a code and honor." He pointed at Reborn. "He doesn't."
Reborn looked at Tsuna. "Is this moron your friend?"
"I … guess?"
"I am," Lucio said. "And if you hurt Tsuna, I'll –"
"You'll what?"
"I'll make you regret it," Lucio said firmly. "Independent contractor, my ass. Don't use big words you're too stupid to understand, you little piece of –"
Tsuna slapped a hand over Lucio's mouth.
Reborn blinked. A genuine expression of bemusement slipped over his face.
Silence stretched.
"He didn't mean it," Tsuna said.
Lucio tried to squirm free. "I –"
"Shut up."
"No, let him speak," Reborn said, recovering. His lips curled into a smile. It wasn't a nice expression. "Go on. What were you going to call me?"
Lucio opened his mouth.
Cinzia kicked open the kitchen door and stormed into the front shop. She was carrying Ottone's gun.
"Adorable, was it?" she whispered, taking aim.
And the universe went to hell in a handbasket.
.
.
The man was completely normal.
Clad in faded jeans and a white button-up shirt, he looked like any healthy person in his early forties who regularly exercised and watched his diet. His mustache was carefully trimmed, and his blond hair displayed just the acceptable amount of grey for a man his age. Nothing about his appearance screamed criminal or suspicious or mafia.
Appearances were a lie.
Tsuna glared.
The red clay tiles under his stomach were starting to feel uncomfortable. He squirmed a little, careful to stay out of sight.
Across the street, in the dark alley three floors below, the man lit a cigarette. A small flame flickered to life. Smoke drifted into the night.
Tsuna lowered himself onto the roof. He rested his forehead on the back of his hands and settled in for the wait. He was used to it. Hiding in the dark while following strangers had become something familiar over the years. Tsuna was weak like that.
The memory of Sawada Iemitsu standing in an empty parking lot had stayed sharp and cutting for a long time. At first, Tsuna had wanted nothing to do with the man, his subordinates, or his Famiglia. They'd thrown him away. They'd said sorry. He didn't need them.
Still, he couldn't help but wonder.
Would they come back? Or would they just forget?
Months had passed by, and the stinging edge of Sawada's betrayal had dulled to a quiet throbbing, something sore and scarred that was impossible to ignore. The Vongola had kept on sending their men. They followed him, they watched him, and slowly, inexorably, Tsuna had started to watch them back again.
Tsuna shifted, groaning as numbness spread in his limbs.
The roof was gently slopping downward and one careless move would send him careening into emptiness. Getting up there had been tricky, but the reward was more than satisfying. Tsuna had an excellent vantage point into the dark alley and he was completely invisible to anyone on ground level. Unless the Vongola decided to parachute their people right above his head, he should be fine.
The man breathed out another cloud of thick smoke. The end of his cigarette glowed orange.
"Looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while."
Tsuna almost toppled off the roof.
He caught himself before plunging to a premature death and scrambled away from the edge.
"Reborn," he hissed. "How long?"
Reborn was sitting on the balustrade of the rooftop terrace on his right, looking disgustingly comfortable for someone perched thirty feet into the air.
"Guess."
Tsuna had been lying on that roof for more than a quarter of an hour.
"Fifteen minutes?"
"Wrong. Guess again."
Only one possible answer then. Goddamn stalker.
"Since I left," Tsuna said, somewhat resigned.
Reborn's face turned smug. He leaned forward, chin on one hand as his attention slipped past Tsuna to the smoking man. He let out a sharp tsk. "Anyone could put a bullet through his brain and he'd never know where it came from."
"Nobody wants to shoot him. He's fine."
"No. He's supposed to be professional. That means he should notice the bumbling idiot who's been trailing him for more than half an hour."
"I didn't–"
"Subtlety isn't exactly your forte, is it?"
Tsuna cringed.
"And that's only the tip of the iceberg." Reborn started to count on his fingers. "You're loud and clumsy. You let your guard down so easily it's basically non-existent and you're unable to lie. In fact, if it weren't for your ability to brew a descent espresso, I'd say you were completely useless."
Death via extreme mortification.
Tsuna was going to die from embarrassment and the whole world would laugh at him so hard he'd hear it from the other side.
"It's rather concerning," Reborn continued, merciless. "Like watching a toddler with a gun stumbling into traffic."
"Stop it," Tsuna groaned. "I get it. You can stop now."
"They do say that acknowledging you have a problem is the first step in fixing the problem."
Asshole.
Now, he was just rubbing it in.
"Are you crying?"
"No."
The corners of Reborn's mouth twitched. He looked down into at the narrow alley. "How long do you plan to stay here?"
And suddenly, abruptly, Tsuna realized that a fedora-wearing hitman was carelessly sitting on a balustrade next to him, right there, in plain view, his profile stark and clear in the light cast by a nearby lamppost.
"Get down." Tsuna frantically grabbed one of Reborn's feet and tugged. "Hurry."
"Hm?"
"He's going to see you." Tsuna pulled harder, dreading the possibility of the mafioso looking up and noticing the two of them. Tsuna didn't want Sawada to know that he cared, that he was pathetic enough to crawl back to them for a small chance at catching a glimpse of blue eyes and blond hair.
"Get down."
Reborn finally moved. He lowered himself next to Tsuna, his body flowing down from the balustrade as easily as if he'd merely stepped off the sidewalk.
"He's not going to see me," Reborn said with a derisive glance below. "We've already established that this imbecile isn't the sort to look up and check the rooftops for threats."
Tsuna peeked at his mark. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not take any chance."
Reborn huffed, the sound clearly telegraphing how much he thought of Tsuna's paranoia. He rolled onto his back, putting his hands under his nape to cushion his head while crossing his legs at the ankles.
"Is this something that happens often?"
"What?"
"This ridiculous little spy game of yours, Baka-Tsuna. Is it a regular thing?"
Tsuna fidgeted. "Not really," he mumbled.
It had been more than half a year since he'd found himself following one of Sawada's men. He usually didn't last much longer than that before giving in. A sense of morbid curiosity would slowly fill him, a drip-drip sensation like a bleeding wound that echoed loudly enough to pull at his attention until there was no fighting it anymore.
Tsuna clenched his jaw.
Reborn watched him intently for a moment. It rather felt like a snipper aiming at him with his scope. Just as tension started to gather in Tsuna's shoulders, Reborn snorted and looked away.
"Vongola idiots," he muttered, lowering his fedora over his face.
Tsuna didn't even want to know.
Down in the alley, the mafioso was starting his second cigarette.
"I could shoot him for you," Reborn said idly. "Problem solved."
Why on earth –
"You can't shoot him," Tsuna whispered harshly.
Reborn didn't move, didn't react in any way. "I can't ?"
Shit.
"Please." Tsuna figuratively backpedaled so fast he almost bit off his own tongue. "I mean, please, don't shoot anyone."
The sensation of stillness in the air faded.
"You're learning," Reborn said, almost cheerfully. "There's still hope for you, Baka-Tsuna."
Hope.
Hah.
Tsuna let out a shaky breath. Silence descended over the two of them, and he was more than happy to leave it undisturbed. Seconds stretched into minutes. Just as Tsuna's eyelids started to grow heavy with sleep, a car slowed in front of the alley.
A woman got out, sweeping a vigilant glance at her surroundings. The other mafioso dropped his cigarette butt on the pavement and stepped on it.
What followed was a process Tsuna had witnessed numerous times before. A folded report was handed over, along with a phone and the pictures taken over the last few days. A quick exchange was murmured between the man and the woman, one Tsuna was way too far to hear, and then the woman hopped back behind the wheel. The car's engine purred as she drove down the street. The man watched its rear lights disappear around a corner before heading away in the opposite direction.
And.
That was that.
No Sawada, no Coyote, no familiar faces. Just two strangers going through the motions of a boring job.
As usual, it felt strangely anticlimactic.
Tsuna turned over and flopped onto his back, too. A vast expense of star-dotted darkness stared back at him. The moon glowed bright and full over the world. There was no wind, no clouds. It was a perfect summer night.
Tsuna wanted to scream. It was absurd. Of course, Sawada hadn't come. He'd never once showed up in the last six years. But that was alright. Entirely, perfectly alright.
"Baka-Tsuna."
Reborn's voice startled him. Mentally shifting gear, Tsuna refocused on the present.
"Yes?"
"I want an espresso."
Tsuna slowly looked at the hitman's profile.
"What."
It wasn't a question, not really. More like disbelief underlined by a healthy amount of what-the-hell.
Reborn stretched like a lazy cat, then sat up. "I need caffeine."
"It's the middle of the night," Tsuna felt the need to say.
"Your point being?"
Answers flashed through Tsuna's mind, from an indignant you crazy addict, to get lost, I want to go to bed and wallow in misery. He didn't say anything though. The words remained stuck in his throat, most likely strangled to death by his survival instincts before they could get him killed.
Reborn started for the window Tsuna had used to clamber onto the roof. His movements were smooth and confident, not at all like the clumsy half-crawl, half-wriggle Tsuna was reduced to each time his feet left the ground. Call him petty, but Tsuna kind of wanted to trip the jerk and see if he could remain graceful while crashing head-fist into a bricked wall.
As if sensing his uncharitable thoughts, Reborn paused on the window sill to fix him with an impatient stare.
"You have one minute to get down," he said, disappearing into the abandoned house like a wraith. It was sort of creepy. "Don't make me wait."
Tsuna could only gape.
A shiver suddenly ran down his back. Goosebumps appeared on his forearms. Tingles ran through his hands and gathered in his fingertips, sharp and painful.
Strange.
He'd been fine moments ago, hadn't even felt a little cold.
Tsuna's mouth twisted.
Obviously, he'd been fine. There'd been a literal Sun keeping him company for almost an hour.
"Baka-Tsuna!"
"Yes, yes."
Tsuna rolled his eyes and started to carefully make his way across the roof.
.
.
The alarm system let out a soft beep-beep as it was deactivated.
Tsuna pulled the door open and entered Little Trinci. He flipped the lights on and paused for a moment, straining to hear any sign of activity from upstairs. He would die if Cinzia or Ottone discovered Reborn had broken in with his help. They would definitely brand Tsuna a traitor and have him hanged for high treason.
Silence held the bakery in its grasp.
Nothing moved in the apartment on the second floor.
Tsuna relaxed.
Reborn walked past him without a care in the world. He grabbed a chair and dragged it toward the counter before turning it around to straddle it.
"Remember what I told you about the temperatures," he said, arms crossed over the back of the chair. "Ninety degrees is the bare minimum or the coffee will taste under extracted."
Tsuna didn't scowl, but only because he was tired enough to fall asleep on his feet.
"Just keep your voice low," he grumbled before setting to work.
He turned the coffee machine on, moving on autopilot, his body following the familiar step of a dance he'd performed so many times before it didn't need any active input from his brain. Soon, the machine was humming softly, a strong and hearty aroma wafting up into the air. Tsuna watched in a sleepy daze as hot liquid trickled from the spout, steaming and glittering like a dark elixir. He drummed his fingers against the counter top, swaying a little, wanting to be in his bed so much it hurt.
Something thudded against the ceiling.
Tsuna didn't react. The house was old. Some noise was to be expected. He turned off the machine when the cup got full and grabbed a tiny plastic spoon.
Another series of slow thud-thud above his head. The walls moaned and creaked. The sounds moved steadily toward the back of the apartment and – wait a minute. Were those footsteps?
Panic slammed into Tsuna.
He dove for the wall, hastily killed the light, then froze, holding his breath.
It had to be Ottone. Cinzia slept like the dead through the whole night and never woke up before dawn.
Dammit.
Ottone walked toward the little kitchen on the second floor. A faucet was turned on. Tsuna could imagine the man standing in front of the sink, drinking a glass of water, the pale light coming through the window casting shadows on his face.
The footsteps echoed again. They headed away toward the bedrooms.
For a long moment, Tsuna didn't dare to move a single muscle.
So close. Too close.
Determined to kick Reborn out as soon as possible, Tsuna grabbed the hitman's coffee and quickly brought it to him.
Reborn was leaning back in his chair, balancing on the back feet with ease. "Took you long enough."
"Shh." Tsuna threw a cagey look at the ceiling. "Here. Hurry up and leave."
Reborn looked at the cup Tsuna was holding out and sniffed.
"It's cold."
Tsuna glanced down. "It's not."
"Start over." Reborn waved him away. "I'm not drinking this."
Really?
Grinding his teeth, Tsuna turned around and –
Words spilled out of his mouth.
"It's not cold."
It was unexpected, the small spark of defiance that suddenly came alive in his chest. Perhaps it was because Tsuna was so very tired he was half-delirious, or maybe he had a suicidal streak the size of the Great Canyon no one had noticed before.
Whatever the reason, Tsuna found himself reaching inside, in that place deep between bone and soul where small fireflies of orange floated. The ice was biting, the silence ringing, and Tsuna reached out. The dots of lights swirled toward him, like snowflakes dancing on an invisible wind. For the first time in ten years, he caught one, then two, and instinctively moved them into his hands.
Steam rose from the cup. The liquid inside turned scalding hot within seconds.
Reborn jerked upright, feet slamming onto the floor.
Tsuna's eyes widened in horror.
Because.
He was a fucking idiot.
"Here," he forced out, the blood drained from his face. "That's good enough, right?"
Reborn watched him, unmoving. His lips parted but no sound came out. He just sat there, very still and very, very stiff.
Sweat slid down Tsuna's back. "Come on. I'm tired."
Reborn twitched. He slowly accepted the cup and held it in a tight grip. He took a sip.
Another moment of charged silence.
"It's good," he said.
Tsuna tucked his shaking hands out of sight. "Was that a compliment?"
Reborn didn't look away from the cup.
"I think it was. Careful. You're getting soft –"
"Don't push it, Baka-Tsuna," Reborn snapped.
Something big and agitated stretched out around him. A wave of heat washed over the front shop, swirling and prowling.
Tsuna stumbled back a step. Then another one.
Reborn's glower didn't lessen. The line of his shoulders stayed rigid.
Tsuna was going to throw up.
"E-excuse me for a minute," he stammered.
He quickly walked away toward the kitchen. The door swung shut behind him. The weight of Reborn's attention faded.
Tsuna collapsed against one of the big fridges and slid down to the floor. He shoved both hands into his hair and gave a hard tug.
"What the fuck," he whispered, staring in horror at the tiles. "What the fuck, Tsuna."
He'd used his Flames.
The small flickers that had escaped from the cracks in the ice were nothing compared to the sheer firestorm trapped beneath its frosty surface, but they were still Flames – they were still Sky Flames. There was no way in hell someone like Reborn had missed it.
Tsuna buried his face in his arms.
Ten years that he hadn't touched the fire inside, and the one time he slipped, the one time he made a mistake, it had to be in front of the Best Hitman in World.
Tsuna bit his lips to swallow the giggle of hysteria creeping up his throat.
He – he should probably get up. Go back to his apartment to think and regroup. To plan.
Tsuna grabbed his terror by the throat and shoved it down. There would be time enough later to have a melt-down. But not now. Not here.
Tsuna stood up on shaky legs, feeling light-headed.
The front shop was empty when he cautiously poked his head around the door a minute later.
Reborn was gone.
He'd left his cup on the counter.
It was empty.
.
.
Okay, this chapter fought me every step of the way, and I'm still not happy with it. But now I can't even look at it and I just want to get on with the rest of the story, so here it is. Whatever.
Thanks for reading.
See you next time :)