"So... why is he not waking up?"
"See that bump down here?"
"Yes."
"Nasty concussion if I ever saw one," Qi Zhen explained. The man was in his late sixties, regularly displayed the temper of an embittered viper, and had saved more lives than anyone in the Triads. He brushed aside silky black hair. "Kid was knocked out hard and mean. Not surprising he hasn't come around yet."
The Vongola trio he was talking to exchanged frowns.
"No." A woman shook her head. She was middle-aged, with a head full of untamable curls and dark eyes narrowed into slits of displeasure. "Your Suns can take care of a concussion. There's something else."
True.
Skilled Suns were known to pull miracles out of thin air. People had recovered from wounds much more gruesome than a simple concussion in the hands of competent experts. Something wasn't quite right about the current situation and the woman had noticed.
Fon slid a disinterested glance over.
A female Sun was kneeling beside a stretcher, hands glowing gold and warm as they drifted over a small body. The child she was trying to help remained stubbornly unresponsive. Had Fon not already heard Qi Zhen's report earlier, he too would have been wondering what was wrong with I-Pin.
As things stood, no limbs had been severed, nothing was actively bleeding out, and he'd been promised there would be no long-term consequences to their little heir's health.
That was good enough.
Fon discreetly hid a yawn behind a sleeve while Qi Zhen continued to examine I-Pin.
The old man grabbed a skinny arm and put his fingertips on the pulse point. He grunted. "Goddamn Mist Flames."
"What?" The Vongola woman was startled. "But that's not – fuck. Are you sure?"
"Girl, I was been dealing with asshole Mists long before you stopped shitting and pissing in your diapers – of course, I am sure."
The woman opened and closed her mouth. "He." She pointed a finger at Qi Zhen. "Did he just –"
"What should we do?" one of her colleagues cut in. A hand drifted up to the radio in his ears, as if ready to send orders. "Is there anything you need?"
"Depends," Qi Zhen's Sun answered. She ran a hand over I-Pin's clammy forehead and grimaced. "Mists are always a pain in the ass and the fucker who did this was strong."
"Don't be dramatic." Qi Zhen waved their concerns away. "It's alright. Kid will be fine. Those Flames were merely used to trick his brain in a state of non-REM sleep and keep it out of delta-band activity."
Blank stares from all around.
"Non-REM sleep," the Vongola woman repeated. "What the fuck does that even mean?"
Qi Zhen threw her a nasty look. "It means they wanted to make sure he wouldn't wake up," he snapped. "Give me two hours and I'll have the brat up and about." Then, muttered under his breath, "Boorish ignoramus."
The woman smiled through clenched teeth. "I'll have people ready to pick you up in ten minutes. Headquarter's expecting us."
Both sides dissolved in a round of squabbling negotiation – how long could they delay their departure, and were the ambulances equipped to monitor Flames activity, and would Qi Zhen need more Suns to provide assistance during the journey back?
Fon held back another yawn.
Around him, the rest of the team who'd gone behind the enemy's line to retrieve I-Pin stood scattered in a loose circle. Each man and woman had tired expressions on their faces. The backlash of an adrenaline rush weighed down on sore and bruised limbs, but no one was lowering their guards. Weapons were kept within arm's reach and the steady thrum of Flames regularly flared, watchful and alert.
Farther ahead, the Estraneo's mansion slowly crumbled into ruins.
Fon stared at the fires – and then abruptly stiffened.
From behind, a large presence was moving closer. It approached them like a human-sized hurricane spreading across the horizon, its center a mass of seething blood-red. The air seemed to thicken, grow heavy with potential violence. Fon felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something in his chest stirred in response.
"What the fuck."
The curse cut right through Qi Zhen's rants about Flame-resistant drugs.
A stifling blanket of silence descended. Heads pivoted around. Triads and Vongola members alike all marked a pause.
Nougat Coyote stood at the edge of the ambulance's flashing lights. Red and blue danced on his tall silhouette, concealing his features. Fon carefully observed what he could see of the man. He had been waiting for one of Nono's Guardians to drop by. Politics were tricky, a murky swamp full of smelly waters, and their two organizations had never gotten along very well. It was a given the Vongola would wish to smooth the Triads's ruffled feathers, especially after such an embarassing security breach.
But Nougat Coyote, who had obviously been on his way to check on I-Pin, had stopped dead in his tracks beside Qi Zhen – and never mind basic diplomacy, he wasn't even looking at any of them.
Instead, he repeated, "What the fuck."
Qi Zhen recovered first. "Excuse me?"
Nougat Coyote reached out and nudged the medic out of his line of sight.
Qi Zhen's complexion reddened with outrage.
Nougat Coyote didn't notice. A vein had started to throb on his forehead.
Fon shifted, eyes roving over their surroundings, on the look-out for threats or enemies. He found neither. The hive of buzzing mafiosos running left and right all around was nothing unusual, not when one stood on the outskirt of a massive fight. Fon tilted his head to the side. Listened and watched. The sounds of gunshots pierced the night. Small explosions rumbled in the distance. Shouts and yells. Fire. Flames.
Again, nothing out the ordinary considering the situation.
Nougat Coyote clearly disagreed.
An incredulous expression rippled over his face. It twisted, melting into something dark and ugly. He let out a growl. "I'm going to fucking kill him."
Ah.
Fon relaxed.
The sentiment in that sentence transcended borders and languages. Somebody had just screwed up and now there was a big mess to clean up.
Qi Zhen drew himself straight. "You –"
"Hold that thought for a second," Nougat Coyote interrupted. "I'll be right back."
And off he went, an angry cloud full of thunder rolling away into the distance.
Curious.
Who would dare anger the Vongola Storm Guardian in such a place?
Watch them, Aaron had said, livid with anger. Bring I-Pin back and keep her safe but watch them. Find a weakness to exploit, an edge to keep ahead of Nono. The Vongola have ruled alone at the top for far too long.
Fon hummed under his breath, considering his options.
The child he'd been sent to recover was circled by a literal wall of defensive bodyguards. These people had been specially handpicked by the Boss for their training and loyalty. They would all die before failing. Add to that the crowd of agitated Vongolas milling everywhere and I-Pin was as safe as she was going to be.
Yes, it would be more than enough.
Fon didn't plan to go very far anyway.
"Mr Qi Zhen," he called. "Continue with the preparations for the trip back. I'm going to have a quick talk with Mr Nougat."
"What?" The medic looked if he were about to spit in his face. "Don't you even think you can go off gallivanting on your own while I'm stuck with – hey!"
Annoying mosquito.
Fon threw a mild glance over his shoulder.
Qi Zhen's mouth clicked hut.
Hm.
Better.
Fon left, trotting after the Vongola Guardian.
He wasn't the only person to do so.
As soon as Nougat Coyote passed them by, two men broke off from a nearby cluster of mafiosos. They quickly walked over, flanking the tall man on both sides, the maneuver smooth and natural and betraying years of practice.
Fon fell into step with them. The younger of the pair looked familiar. Fon thought about it for a moment and managed to pluck a name out of his memory. Vito had been part of the initial assault on the Estraneo mansion. Twin blades were strapped to the young man's forearms and they still glinted with a layer of red. Fon had witnessed first-hand how deadly they could be. He politely returned the nods of acknowledgement sent his way and kept walking.
Nougat Coyote only looked back once.
Their eyes clashed, a silent contest of will. Fon merely smiled. The lines around the older Storm's mouth tightened. As expected, he didn't challenge Fon's presence. Nougat Coyote had no authority over the Triads, and their leaders' alliance was as fragile as glass. No one wanted this conflict to dissolve into a three-sided war.
Nougat Coyote scowled and kept walking.
Their little party swiftly crossed the parking lot. It was evident the Vongola Guardian had a precise destination in mind. Fon just couldn't see it yet.
Or wait.
Over there.
Fon blinked.
Was that boy wearing pajamas?
Like a missile about to hit its target, Nougat Coyote picked up speed.
"You."
The word came out as a snarl, low and furious. The boy turned around. He blanched.
Fon's eyes glided over brown hair and fair skin, noting the heaving chest and twitching hands. Beads of sweat ran down pale cheeks. The hint of a green complexion in an otherwise non-remarkable face hinted at a weak stomach. Such a common trait was usually found in fresh recruits. Was it his first time seeing combat?
None of it explained the pajamas, though.
Somewhat bemused, Fon waited for the drama to unfold. He suspected an alarming lack of dress-code wasn't the sort of weaknesses his employer had had in mind when he'd given his orders.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"I–"
Nougat Coyote whirled on a man standing by the boy's side. "Did you bring him here?"
There was a red armband wrapped around the man's upper arm. It read Polizia. Fon gave a mental nod of approval. As expected of the Vongola. Any self-respecting Family would take the time to cultivate a network of trustworthy informers. One could never have too many people infiltrated in the local branches of law enforcement.
"Yes," the policeman answered. "The Decimo got stuck at the blockade we set up and –"
"The Decimo?"
Fon's attention snapped back to the present, mind sharpening.
Decimo meant tenth – the tenth. And he'd heard the stories. Timoteo's successor was said to be a powerful Sky, one that already had a full set of Guardians despite his young age. Dangerous, some whispered. Exaggerated gossip, others retorted.
Fon had always felt rather neutral on the subject, but he'd figured the truth had to be buried somewhere in the middle ground. As it turned out, he'd been wrong, and the rumor mill had completely missed the mark, because Sawada Natsume looked and felt nothing like a Sky. How could the boy lead his Family in the future? Some civilians had more presence than him.
Something very strange was going on.
Nougat Coyote turned toward Fon. "If you'll give me a moment," the man gritted out. "There are some matters that need my attention. I'll be right back with you."
Each syllable sounded like a tooth pried out of his mouth.
Fon could have been difficult, pushed to get more information and pilfer some leverage against Nono.
He gave a slight bow instead.
"Of course. It was an honor to meet the next leader of your Famiglia."
Appearances aside, the title alone was worthy of respect.
Sawada Natsume looked horrified. "N-nice to meet you, too."
A trickle of schadenfreude teased the back of Fon's mind. He squashed it before anyone could notice and quickly retreated out of earshot. For now, his curiosity had been satisfied and he'd have an interesting report to make. It was time to leave. Qi Zhen should have finished the necessary arrangements to transport I-Pin away and any delay would be met with complains.
Loud complains.
Fon sighed and set out toward the ambulances.
His feet carried him past a make-shift field infirmary several paramedics had hastily put together. Many people had been hurt by now and some patients had to be nursed on the ground. Most would live, but treatment needed to be administered in a timely fashion to avoid permanent damage. Fon had witnessed similar scenes hundreds of times before and it wasn't rare for things to devolve into chaos. The Vongola's efficiency was commendable. He was almost impressed.
He walked past a young woman holding her leg. She let out a long, drawn out whimper, and for some reason the sound caught his attention. He slowed down.
The cloth of the woman's pants was ripped and singed. She shivered with pain, letting out a constant stream of moans. Beside her, a man was shaking as a medic dug bits of shrapnel out of his chest. Blood trickled down his skin. The torn muscle near his shoulder needed stitches. A hint of white was visible in the deepest part of the wound. His bone.
Fon stared, eyes stuck on the bloody picture.
He'd stopped moving.
Heavy scents of medications and gore assaulted his nose.
He told himself it didn't matter.
Dark stains were smeared across his own knuckles. One of the enemies' faces he'd struck earlier had cracked and splintered, teeth and lips breaking under his palm in a warm shower. He could still feel the thick liquid running down his fingers. A taste like iron lingered on his tongue. Blood and sweat and death.
The medic removed another piece of metal from his patient's exposed flesh.
A drop of red trickled down a muscular arm.
It landed on the cement.
A second did the same. Then a third one.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The Storm inside came alive with a roar.
Fon twitched, suddenly aware of how simple it would be to put the wretched mafioso out of his misery. Bloodlust raked him with sharp talons. It burned the back of his throat, begging for the hunt, for the kill, for the euphoric feeling of crimson Flames running wild and unbridled.
Fon went still as a statue.
Adrenaline swelled in his veins. His head started to pound. He almost gave in, wanted to give in, and after all that was what he should do, what he should have done from the start to quell the winds howling at him every second of every minute of every waking moment. Perhaps then he would finally, finally have some peace. Perhaps –
No.
Fon took a deep breath. Held it and slowly exhaled.
No.
He found his center, that delicate balance that let him stand on the edge of a razor's blade without toppling headfirst into madness. It took several heartbeats to calm down. Too long, especially considering that a year ago such an exercise had been unnecessary. He was slipping. More and more. Little by little, bit by bit. His control was the fraying end of a leash about snap and he didn't know how to stop it.
Another breath. Another heartbeat.
There it was.
The eye of the storm.
Fon tucked his hands back inside his sleeves and pretended not to notice how hard they shook.
"Watch out!"
Fon whipped around.
A deafening explosion tore through the night.
The left side of the Estraneo mansion collapsed, walls and windows and ceiling all coming down with a great crash that sent out a wave of dark smoke rushing over the lawn.
Fon tensed.
He made a quick mental calculation. Every single one of his men were accounted for. The non-fighting members of the team had never left Qi Zhen's side and the rest had all been pulled out of the danger zone hours ago. His target had been secured. I-Pin was safe.
Though it was a pity for the people caught in the explosion, none of them were his responsibility. The Triads would leave Italy the following day and Fon didn't really care about the casualties suffered by –
Sawada Natsume burst into fire.
As if hit by a tidal wave, dozens of people's knees slammed into the ground while a pillar of searing orange light shot straight into the sky. Blistering heat washed over the parking lot. Alarmed cries rose all over.
Oh, Fon had the time to think, right before he was slapped for the first time in his life by a surge of Flame Attraction so strong it nearly knocked him down.
His Storm perked up in interest. Red brushed against orange and gave a gleeful little trill.
Fon stumbled, mouth dropping open in shock as he gaped at Sawada Natsume.
Do not judge a book by its cover indeed.
.
.
A circle of Flames exploded out of Tsuna, rolling out like a shockwave far and wide in all directions. Scorching fire coursed through every inch of his body, intense and all-consuming. As if a veil had been ripped apart, his five senses jolted awake with a shriek. Something inside strained. There was a flash of blinding pain, shards of winter and regrets falling apart, and then –
And then the ice.
Was.
Gone.
Timoteo's seal melted away without a trace.
Tsuna staggered.
All around him, the world was alight with Flames. They swirled everywhere as if he were standing at the center of a miniature whirlpool. He looked down at his hands, his arms. Orange fire licked his clothes and skin, weaving through his hair and playing at his feet.
And.
It didn't hurt.
He wasn't cold or afraid. He wasn't even burned.
Like a pair of wings snapping out of their bindings for the first time in years, his Flames stretched out, eager and delighted and triumphant. They flowed farther onto the ground, spread between blades of grass and slid over cracked cement. The night tasted of darkness. Of secrets and freedom. A voice started humming in Tsuna's ears like a siren's song, tempting him with the moon and the stars and everything in between.
See, it crooned. We are free. We are free and the prison of ice is no more and the sky is ours.
Let's fly.
Tsuna laughed.
The sound erupted out of his throat, loud and unbidden.
Because yes, of course the sky belonged to him. He'd just forgotten for a moment, had allowed nightmares in human-skins to put fetters and shackles on him. To pin him down to the ground like a butterfly, like a worm.
Never again, the song hissed.
Never again, Tsuna agreed and the words were familiar, as if he'd made the same promise recently.
But when –
A loud yelp broke his concentration.
Tsuna looked up.
A crowd of mafiosos stared back at him.
Several of them were kneeling, as if their legs had suddenly lost all strength and they'd dropped down. Others stood frozen in place. The parking lot was as still as a grave, trapped in a bubble stuck out of time by a monster that felt big enough to cover the horizon.
Tsuna opened his mouth.
A man flinched.
What?
Before Tsuna could react, another panicked cry broke the silence. A woman jerked back, hands slapping wildly at the air. Orange sparks floated around her, around them all, but she cowered as if assaulted by a swarm of deadly wasps.
Reality hit Tsuna like a hammer.
The blood drained from his face. A background of white noise filled his head. What the hell was he doing, admiring the sky and fantasizing about the stars when dozens of Vongola men and women were gawking at him from the sideline?
No.
No, no, no.
It wasn't too late. He could still. He could still hide. Explain that it was all a misunderstanding. Timoteo would help. They could lie, say that Natsume had suffered from a minor breakdown, that he'd momentarily lost control of his Flames.
No one had to know the truth. It was fine, it was okay, it was –
A fucking.
Disaster.
"Sorry!" Tsuna frantically swept a hand in front of him and pleaded, stop. Come back. Pleasepleaseplease. "I'm so sorry!"
Like a rubber band, the orange Flames leaped back toward him, so fast and so hard he almost fell down. They curled around him, inside him, and his skin grew numb, too tight and too flimsy for the ocean roiling under the surface.
Tsuna wobbled, white dots dancing across his vision.
He tried to calm down. Counted to ten and started again backward. It didn't work. Nothing helped, because he was drowning in horror and all he could think about was that Cinzia would revive him just to murder him again if he dared to die there. She would spit on his body and Timoteo would have to explain why a Decimo look-alike had gone crazy near an Estraneo base and Reborn –
Reborn.
Tsuna's mind screeched to a halt.
The universe itself just.
Paused.
Tsuna stopped breathing.
Ah.
He remembered now.
The pressure building inside stilled, suddenly collared to an issue that demanded its whole attention.
People were muttering around him. Their voices drifted over, little ants buzzing with agitation in another world.
Tsuna wrapped his arms around his middle and squeezed his eyes shut. His entire focus turned inward. His Flames followed suit, zeroing in on the flickers of sunlight Reborn had been giving him for weeks whenever he'd been too cold or too tired. Tsuna had hoarded every single one of them, had kept them away from the ice, cradled against his heart like a treasure.
He prodded the tiny rays of gold. They throbbed in response, bright and fierce.
What happened next was pure instinct. A pulse of intent. Acceptance and mine and a question.
Yes?
One beat of absolute stillness.
Then, from far away, an answer,
Yes.
A link bloomed into existence.
Tsuna's head snapped toward the burning mansion. He knew where to go.
"Wait."
Coyote appeared in front of him, pale and sweaty. One hand hovered between them, as if the Storm Guardian wanted to grab him and run, as if the lack of visible fire meant it was safe to come closer, that there wasn't a supernova about to explode out of Tsuna.
"You can't."
Orange Flames bristled.
"Move."
"Calm down and think," Coyote hissed. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
"I said." Tsuna bared his teeth. "Move."
A wall of Flames slammed into Coyote and sent him skidding away. Red fire immediately flared, pushing back, but Tsuna had already taken off.
"You fucking idiot!" Coyote yelled.
Tsuna didn't care.
Reborn was somewhere close. He knew it, could feel it in his guts. And even though it made him sick to his stomach, that was reason enough to rush headlong into his own personal hell.
Green and brown blurred under Tsuna's feet. He didn't trip or lose his balance. His legs were strong, steady, warmth flooding into them like a drug that helped to push past his limits. He'd never run so fast in his life before and still it wasn't enough.
Faster.
He had to go faster.
Tsuna crossed yards of manicured lawn and soon reached the Estraneo mansion. An imposing door loomed over him. As if several bombs had been dropped on them, the steps leading up to the wide entrance were missing big chunks. The railings had been destroyed into twisted skeletons. Wide cracks ran through the paving stones.
Tsuna danced around the destruction and hurried inside.
A wide lobby greeted him. Parts of the ceiling had collapsed and the framework above was visible, fire eating at the century-old wood. Not a single window remained intact. Holes peppered the walls at irregular intervals. A double-curved staircase sprawled out on both sides of the hall like a giant beast, lazily overlooking the carnage as its steps dripped blood on the expensive carpets.
For a moment, memories of another time and place overlapped with the present.
There too, thick smoke had choked the life out of Tsuna's lungs. Broken dolls had been resting in puddles of red while children cried, holding onto each other's hands to keep going.
Tsuna forced himself to move.
One foot in front of the other. Just one more step. And then another one again.
He had a minute, possibly less, before Coyote caught up.
Tsuna grabbed one of his shoes and flung it on the stairs leading up to the second floor. He then bolted the opposite way, down the small corridor curving toward the right wing of the building. Hopefully, Coyote would go up while he went down.
He rushed through a long hallway that smelled of dust and plaster. Lights flickered weakly overhead. Pieces of cutting glass and broken marble peppered the floor. Something sharp nicked the sole of his bare foot. It hurt. Tsuna caught himself with a hand against the wall and ran faster.
He burst into a medium-sized room, one that must have been used to host small receptions and parties. A heavy table had been pushed onto its side near the back, its surface covered with bullet holes.
The battle had moved on to other parts of the mansion, because only two Vongola subordinates, a man and a woman, were standing around a doorway. The opening was dark, half crumbled onto itself, as if some random blast had revealed the passage by luck.
Tsuna had to go through that door.
The pair talked quietly among themselves, eyes vigilant and wary as the woman bandaged the man's side with her shirt. Blood spread over the torn cloth even as she tied a knot with quick, efficient moves.
"This doesn't look good. Let's go back."
"No. The kid needs help."
An irritated scoff. "You've got a fucking hole in your stomach, Samuel. Cristiano will have to take care of himself."
"I can still fight!"
Tsuna scrambled forward, skidding over the debris of ruined furniture.
"You're being ridiculous –"
"This is nothing, it doesn't even hurt!"
"Which means it's probably very serious, you fucking moron!"
Tsuna gave the pair a wide berth, bent close to the floor, trying to stay as unobtrusive as possible. He failed. The woman saw him. Her hands froze. She goggled.
Right.
Goofy pajamas and glowing demon eyes.
"Hello?" Tsuna squeaked, half crouching behind a chair.
A gun was immediately leveled at his head. He ducked. Bullets hit the wall above him a split second later. One grazed his right cheek.
"Turn around! Hands up where I can see them!"
The monster inside opened an impatient eye onto the pair. The woman instantly let out a choked sound as the very air thickened with a sense of crushing pressure. The man swayed, going white as a sheet. The muzzles of their guns lowered, the bullets they fired pinging harmlessly against the floor.
Tsuna rushed through the doorway. He flew down a narrow staircase, the pulls and tugs of his Flames guiding him deeper into the mansion's belly.
A second staircase, followed by a short hallway, and no, ignore the elevator, it doesn't work, go right, no, not that door, the one after, yes, yes this one –
An office.
Desks laid overturned on their sides and papers littered the floor. Everything was burning. An explosion sounded somewhere outside and the walls shuddered. Dust rained down. It fell over the motionless bodies lying amidst splatters of blood.
Tsuna coughed and it came out sounding like a ragged sob.
He pushed the next door open, this one made of reinforced steel, and went down yet another hallway. The sounds of his footsteps hammered against white tiles. He panted, each breath rumbling like thunder. Everything was shrouded in shadows and smoke. He could barely see.
"– been drinking? Are you seriously drunk right now?"
The faint echo of a distant voice started to be heard. It became clearer with every second. Someone cursed.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. I should leave. You hear me? Hey. I'm saying I'm leaving. Right now. I'm really leaving!"
Tsuna sprinted around a corner at full speed, crashed into the opposite wall, and used the momentum to rebound.
His arrival startled the person standing in the threshold of a room full of computers. The man jolted around, holding a bloody knife in front of him. He was young, barely out of his teens, and sported a big bruise on the side of his face that would become very impressive given a couple of hours.
He was also hovering over Reborn's prone body.
"Stay back!"
Like hell.
Tsuna grabbed the blade as it came slashing toward his neck. Orange Flames flashed. Metal melted and dripped onto the cracked floor.
The young man lurched back. "Holy shit–"
Harmless, a voice reassured Tsuna.
He fell to his knees next to Reborn. The hitman was sitting with his back against a wall, legs sprawled out before him. Dark eyes fluttered open then closed.
Tsuna's heartbeat stuttered.
"You're a Sky?"
Don't panic.
Think.
Just think.
Was it blood loss? Some sort of head trauma? Tsuna quickly checked the expensive suit for holes or tears. The white button-up shirt was slight wrinkled, and Reborn's hat was missing, but that was it. No visible wounds or bruises. Nothing
"H-hey. I'm – I'm talking to –"
Tsuna looked up at the stranger. "What happened?"
The man winced. "I don't know? He kinda. He just froze and fell forward and started babbling nonsense and I –"
No time for this.
"Forget it."
Tsuna grabbed one of Reborn's arm. He struggled to stand. Reborn's dead weight threatened to snap his spine in two. A face landed against his neck. Warm breath tickled his skin.
"Tsuna," Reborn slurred. "Tsuuuu. Na."
Alarm ratcheted up another two notches in Tsuna's brain.
"If y-you're with the Estraneo Famiglia," the young man was babbling, backing away. "You h-have to know that I'm - I'm someone very important to Vongola Nono, so it wouldn't be very smart to h-hurt me. Please? Don't hurt me?"
It would take at least fifteen minutes to drag Reborn back to the ground floor. Ten if he squeezed every drop of strength out of his body. And it wouldn't make a difference, because sneaking away without Coyote spotting them was virtually impossible by now.
Tsuna's legs trembled and he hated himself for it.
"Excuse me? Are you listening?
The man was still talking. Tsuna took a precious second to observe him, taking in the wiry frame and wide eyes. Not ideal, but better than nothing.
"Help me," he said. "We're getting out of here."
"We are?"
"Hurry!"
Orange sparks burst from Tsuna's body.
With a jerk, the man grabbed Reborn's other arm and slipped it over his shoulders. Tsuna wasted no time and pulled them along, retracing his earlier steps. They lumbered around rubble, uncoordinated and uneasy, maneuvering over broken glass and through a wide hole in a wall.
"So... is it a hostage type of situation?"
"What?"
"You know... are you taking me hostage?"
Tsuna tripped. "Wha – no!"
"Then you're not with the Estraneo?"
God, he was going to vomit.
"I am not."
"Oh." Some of the tension in the man's voice dissolved. "I mean. I have to take your word for it since I'm not Flame Active and you're, well, you." An uncertain pause. "My name's Cristiano by the way."
Reborn leaned more heavily onto Tsuna, as if he wanted to drape himself all over his back. Tsuna pulled harder, trying to pick up some speed. The muscles in his arms and shoulders burned.
"Tsuuuuna. Tsunaaaaa."
"Yeah," Cristiano said from the other side of the hitman. "He's been doing that a lot. A lot."
Tsuna's Flames drew an invisible circle around Reborn. They purred a little, carrying back an answer that was all smug satisfaction, safe and healthy and mine.
"Crap." Critiano peeked at Tsuna. He shuddered. "That felt … strange."
Tsuna flinched. "Sorry."
"No, it's fine. It didn't hurt or anything. It was just. Weird? But not in a bad way?"
Weird.
The monster he had spent his childhood fearing felt weird.
"Come on."
They half-walked, half-stumbled forward. The smoke lingering near the ceiling progressively thickened. The sounds of fighting were far and scarce, but detonations occasionally still rang in the distance. There wouldn't be anything left of the Estraneo residence by dawn.
They emerged from a flight of stairs and stood at the bottom of another one, wheezing. Tsuna sent a longing glance at the useless elevator.
Cristiano used the pause to sneak a wary glance around Reborn. "Which Famiglia are you from? They said nothing about a Sky helping us out tonight."
Yes, well, Tsuna hadn't exactly booked a trip either, so everyone could freak out about it on an equal footing.
He started to climb the steps.
A door creaked open behind them, unnaturally loud. Tsuna froze. Something floated along in the wake of the sound. Something like a sigh. Like a call.
Tsuna-kun, it said. Over here.
Tsuna stopped breathing.
His brain went blank, for a second completely shorting out.
Tsu-kun.
Adrenaline kicked in and spat out a surge of terror so strong it drenched him in icy sweat. Goosebumps erupted all over his arms. In his mind, orange Flames coiled defensively around Reborn's sunlight and bared fangs dripping with liquid fire.
Cristiano craned his neck around. He frowned. "Did you hear something?"
For whatever reason, Reborn was not himself. He was vulnerable, an easy target, and they were moving very, very slow. The only way forward was up those stairs and their backs would be wide open the entire it'd take to get to the next floor. That was not acceptable.
Tsuna wriggled out from under Reborn's arm.
"You guys go first," he whispered.
Cristiano faltered, automatically grabbing the hitman's waist to compensate for the sudden lack of balance.
"What? Why?"
"Take Reborn outside. Coyote will find you."
"Coyote? Nougat Coyote?"
"He'll help."
Probably.
Hopefully.
"Nono's Storm Guardian. Coyote." Cristiano looked like he'd bitten into a lemon. "Sure. Who are you again?"
"Go." Tsuna's voice was barely audible. "Please."
"But–"
"Go!"
Orange Flames rammed into the floor in front of Cristiano. Cracks spread out. Bits of rocks and tiles flew up everywhere.
"Alright!" Cristiano yelped. "Jesus. Alright!"
Footsteps hastened up the stairs. Tsuna waited, standing between the half open door and his friend and wanting desperately to escape too.
He stayed.
Ten seconds. Thirty. Not two full minutes had passed before the sounds of Cristiano's awkward shuffle disappeared. Tsuna was alone.
The door slid open a little more, as if beckoning him into the shadows.
He could leave or go in.
Tsuna stared.
Come closer, the spider told the fly. Come closer, I mean no harm.
Tsuna-kun.
He went through the door.
The space inside was small and gray, bare of any decoration or equipment. It was just a four by four room made of concrete with weak neon lighting. There was no window, no other way out but the one behind him.
Tsuna knew this place.
It had been branded into his memories a lifetime ago. The smell, the temperatures, the weak light. All of it. He could almost see the ghosts of children haunting every nook and cranny of the cell, catch their ghosts flitting in the corners and hear their cries echoing in the dark.
His nails dug into his palms.
He barely noticed.
The pain was muted and faraway, not really his.
"I knew it. You heard me."
Tsuna slowly turned his head.
There was a man beside him. He wore a black suit, his tie hanging half done and his shirt half tucked in. He was tall and lean, dark-haired with eyes curving slightly as a wide smile played over his mouth.
Tsuna's fist went right through that horrible face.
It smashed into the wall behind it with a loud bang, blowing a crater in the cement. Smoke and rocks exploded. His knuckles bled all over his clothes.
"Oh, very impressive, that." Jenoah materialized on the other side of the cell, unscathed and not a single hair out of place. He waved. "Hi, Tsuna-kun! It's been so long, how're you doing?"
Tsuna looked down at his hand. He opened and closed it a few times, ignoring the blood. He'd known before trying that the hit wouldn't land. There had been no flesh to strike, no bones to break. Just emptiness.
"You're not real."
"Heh." Jenoah grinned. "You figured it out."
"How?"
"Mist Flames and illusions." Jenoah flapped a hand in the air. "Boring stuff, really. And not important."
There was a soft glimmer to his hair. His complexion was rosy, a healthy tan gained only by spending hours out in the sun. The fabric of his shirt wrinkled and crinkled with each move. A layer of dirt covered the tips of his shoes.
It was all fake.
"Here." Jenoah bounded over. "Touch me. Amazing, isn't it? I bet it feels as warm as the real thing. And it doesn't even glitch on camera!"
Sky Flames struck Jenoah's face with a snarl.
They slammed into the ceiling without touching him, shooting right through his head.
Jenoah popped out of nowhere once again. His eyebrows crept up. "You're upset."
Tsuna's chest heaved with each breath. His heartbeat was pounding a hole into his ribcage. He felt light-headed, as if everything was happening to someone else.
His mouth opened. Words came out.
"You were waiting for me?"
"Of course!"
"Why?"
Jenoah tilted his head to the side, like a puzzled bird. "Because it's you? Sawada Tsunayoshi, it's always been you. Every time, everywhere."
It didn't make any sense.
A tiny part of Tsuna wondered why he'd expected a logical answer. Jenoah had been strange from the very beginning, whimsical and awfully casual in his cruelty. Tsuna remembered it all with crystal clarity. The laughter and the cheerfulness and the torture.
"You're insane," he realized.
"You say that very often, yes." Jenoah snickered. "Maybe you're right. Who cares? You're here now. So."
A rush of cool air.
A blur of movements.
Tsuna's back rammed into the wall, his skull cracking against the hard surface. Tears pooled in his eyes as fingers clamped like a vice around his throat and squeezed. He struggled, coughing and wheezing. Jenoah's eyes stared at him. They were very close and huge, glowing with orange light.
"Do your thing," Jenoah whispered. "Hurry, hurry, hurry. Make it all feel interesting and colorful and alive again."
Sky Flames punched out of Tsuna.
They blasted Jenoah's illusory body apart and poured into the cell like a prowling beast looking for its prey. The walls and ceiling shook. Bits of cements fell and turned into ash before even touching the floor.
"Fine, sorry." Jenoah reappeared a couple of feet away. He paced back and forth, sulking. "That wasn't very polite of me. I apologize."
Tsuna slid to the floor, holding his neck.
Focusing on Reborn wasn't enough to distract the monster from the sheer hatred that was rising from the depths of his memories. It bubbled in his veins like acid, like poison.
Jenoah was still talking.
"You have to understand, I waited so long to meet you – and I mean the real you, not that pathetic shell of a civilian you always wear when you're young. You wouldn't believe the subtlety, the balance, needed to create you. The pieces have to be arranged so carefully."
Something terrible was waking up deep inside. And it was trying to claw its way out of Tsuna.
Inch.
By.
Inch.
"It's just. I didn't want to wait so long this time." Jenoah gestured wildly at Tsuna. "That's how much I missed you."
"You... missed me?"
"Like you wouldn't believe." A rapid nod. "The wait is always the worst. So I gave fate little nudge this time. I pointed the Estraneo in the right direction and just had to watch while they broke you a little. You know, just enough to pop you open and pull my Sawada Tsunayoshi out of the cracks."
A hand gently lifted Tsuna's face. Soft lips kissed his forehead.
"I think that was the first time I saw you activate your Flames so early," Jenoah said gently, holding Tsuna's cheeks as if he were made of glass.
His touch felt like spiders running all over his skin.
"You should have seen how amazing you were. Tiny you barely big enough to stand, with Flames already so strong, so beautiful. I knew you were going to be absolutely amazing."
Beautiful.
Amazing.
Tsuna only remembered apples tumbling off a grocery bag and a woman's desperate voice calling his name.
"And look at you now," Jenoah crowed. "Wasn't it worth it?"
Tsuna looked at him, unblinking, and it was like being four again and waking up in a scary place far away from everyone he'd ever loved. It was like being tied down to a chair and made to watch the most important person in the world die because of him. It was like being trapped in a nightmare. It was like never waking up.
Tsuna shattered.
He forgot Reborn, the Vongola, Cinzia and Ottone and his brother.
A crimson haze fell over his vision, bathing the world in blood.
A floodgate tore open in his chest and a torrent of Flames came roaring out.
It streamed into the cell, ramming into the walls, the ceiling, the door. It grew, spinning faster and faster, drilling into the cement, hating the prison so deeply it wanted to raze it to the ground, to burn it out of existence until not even its ashes remained.
Jenoah cackled from within the inferno.
He reappeared for a split second, as if struggling to stay visible. Something was wrong with his body. It blurred and shifted, gradually twisting and melting into a different illusion. Dark brown hair lengthened, turning into locks of shiny silver. Pale skin replaced his dark complexion. A mark of dark lines bled into existence under a left eye the color of twinkling amethyst.
"Remember this face, Tsuna-kun," the man who called himself Jenoah said. "You'll be seeing it a lot in the future."
No, he wouldn't.
Tsuna stood up on weak legs and walked over to the familiar stranger. He stopped so close their nose were inches apart.
"I'm going to find you," he swore. "And I'm going to kill you."
Jenoah smiled, and it looked like a wild beast baring its fangs. "Do your best," he crooned. "No. Do your worst."
Tsuna screamed.
Sky Flames billowed out with a vengeance, snapping at the illusion. They tore it to shreds. Jenoah dissolved into nothing with one last laugh and then there was no outlet for the anger, no enemy to rip apart.
Tsuna was still screaming. He screamed and screamed and screamed, and his Flames slammed straight up through the ceiling, crashing all the way to the ground floor before erupting into the night sky with a boom that shook the earth.
And it kept coming. The whirlpool around him grew bigger, stronger, the well inside overflowing and never-ending.
He didn't care.
Let it all out.
Let it all burn.
.
.
"I said I'm fine."
Reborn pushed away the pair of medics hovering above him like anxious mother hens and sat up. Hands immediately landed on his shoulders. They tried to push him back down on the ambulance stretcher, as if he couldn't be trusted to stay vertical for more than two seconds.
Reborn growled.
People had learned long ago not to manhandle him if they wished to keep their fingers. Was he getting soft? He should have started chopping heads the second they'd tried to treat him like a decrepit imbecile unable to operate his own body.
Reborn would get to that.
In a moment.
As soon as he got his legs in working order.
A finger came closer and flicked his forehead.
Reborn saw the assault coming, had ample time to react and defend, but somehow the need to move, now, fizzled out somewhere between his brain and muscles. His nervous system misfired, and he could only twitch as foreign Flames flashed behind his eyelids. There was a burst of dizziness. He landed back on the damn stretcher, dazed.
Reborn blinked at the night sky in disbelief.
A woman's face appeared, dark eyes peering down at him. She let out an exasperated sigh. "You're Flame drunk. Calm down and let me help."
Reborn's first reaction was to scoff.
He'd never been Flame drunk in his life.
How many Skies had tried to pull him in their orbits over the years? How many had tried to overwhelm him with their pretty Flames? Too many to count, and he'd shrugged them all off without a backward glance. Because Reborn was powerful, and stubborn as hell, and he wouldn't have settled for the first asshole to covet his potential.
Flame drunk?
Reborn sneered.
The woman rearranged his limbs on the stretcher, then took his pulse. A steady flow of alien Sun Flames spread out in his body. It poked and prodded, passed through his forehead, examined his lungs then followed the flow of oxygen back to his heart before focusing on the pumping muscle.
It faltered. Spread out. Sank deeper.
The woman's brows furrowed. "Hm?"
Her Flames zeroed in on a bond that had just come into existence.
"Wait." Understanding dawned on her face. "That's –"
Enough.
Reborn snarled.
He slammed a palm into the woman's stomach, knocking her back and away with a flare of blinding light. She landed on her side with a cry, and Reborn was on her in a flash, hand around her throat.
"Not another word." He leaned down, lips brushing against her earlobe. "Or I swear the only way you'll be leaving this forest is in a body bag."
The woman whimpered, wide-eyed.
A light squeeze.
"Understood?"
"Y-yes! I promise!"
Reborn stared. Sun Flames seethed in the air around him, agressive and blood-thirsty. It would have been far simpler to put a bullet between her eyebrows and not worry about a possible leak.
But.
Tsuna's Sky curled under his bones. The idiot wouldn't have been happy to be the reason for anyone's death.
Reborn reluctantly let go of his prey.
"E-excuse me?"
The nearby medics and patients were staring at them, tense and nervous. A small field infirmary had been set up near the woods behind the Estraneo mansion. They provided first aid before sending the wounded back to the ambulances. Reborn didn't really know how he'd landed there, but he was quite certain he shouldn't have been anywhere close to that part of the enemy's base.
His lips twisted, disgusted at his lapse in self-control.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny chance that he had been, in fact, Flame drunk.
Not that he would ever admit it.
"Analise?" someone asked, voice wobbling.
Two men and a woman were currently lying unconscious on the grass while a Rain bounced between their prone bodies. His assistant was carrying big packs on his back while they were busy cleaning an impressive head wound.
"I-it's fine," the woman, Annalise, answered. She licked her lips. "You guys keep working. Everything's fine."
She didn't move a single inch, eyes fixed on Reborn as if she could sense how close he was to changing his mind.
Smart lady.
Reborn fought a bout of dizziness.
The woman watched him, pale and cradling her middle.
Reborn looked at her a moment longer, then stepped back, sheer willpower keeping him from stumbling. He reached the nearest tree and leaned against it, waiting for the world to stop swimming out of focus.
Harmony.
Reborn could hardly believe it.
The whole concept was strange, something that existed somewhere out there but had never concerned him. Some people won the lottery, others hated black coffee and a few lucky assholed got the opportunity to harmonize.
Reborn had long ago accepted he'd never have a Sky. He'd been burned by the world too many times, had seen too much blood to ever allow himself be that defenseless to anyone. He'd made his peace with that side of his life years ago, had even grown quite satisfied with it, smug in his independance and freedom. The mere idea of exposing himself so entirely to another person made him shiver with horror.
And then he'd waltzed into the life of Sawada Tsunayoshi.
Tsuna was a Sky, one whose Flames were so frail and so pitiful they should never have made a blip on Reborn's radar. The boy was nothing like his biological Iemitsu and it had been a surprise to discover how much the son and father were different. Iemitsu was loud and proud and reckless. Tsuna could barely stand to be the center of attention for more than two seconds before dissolving in a mess of nerves and despair. He was shy. Awkward. Clumsy.
Reborn craved his Sky like a drug.
It was ironic, he'd often thought during the recent weeks, that the only Sky to ever attract his Flames was too weak to satisfy him. He'd had to be careful, so very careful. Those tiny flickers of orange were like delicious treats. It would have been so easy to swallow them all, to keep taking and taking and taking until nothing remained.
Reborn refused to do that.
He was strong enough for the two of them, would have learned to be satisfied with the crumbs and bits Tsuna could give him. That wasn't Harmony, not even close, but it was fine, because Reborn didn't need that pipe dream to exist.
So what the hell - what the fuck - had happened tonight?
The surge of Sky Flames that had reached out to him had been all Tsuna, but the sheer volume had been mind-numbing. Gone were the tiny sparks of dying orange fire. Those Flames had been strong, the bond they'd forged unbreakable.
But... perhaps it wasn't as unexpected as what he'd first assumed.
Dark thoughts spun in Reborn's mind.
He'd had time to come up with many theories regarding Tsuna's circumstances, and none of them were particularly pleasant. He wasn't part of the Vongola inner circle, but he'd noticed things over the years. People had talked when Xanxus had suddenly disappeared a couple of years back. No one had heard from the prickly asshole for several long months and rumors had spread like a wildfire. Behind closed doors, mafiosos had whispered secrets about inheritances, about a huge fight and about Flames that burned so hot they could create ice.
And Tsuna was cold.
Always so cold.
Reborn fingered the small USB drive hidden in his inner pocket. He thought about all the classified information he'd illegally copied on it earlier that night. He also wondered how many people he would have to murder by the end of it all before the anger in his blood would be satisfied.
Reborn smiled like a shark and straightened his jacket, hand trailing over his chest.
Tsuna's Sky pulsed steadily deep inside.
It would take some time to adjust to that sensation. The guardian bond felt strange, as if the world had just flipped over and his inner compass didn't point north anymore, as if gravity no longer pulled him down but somewhere forward.
There, it seemed to say. He is over there.
Harmony.
Reborn had really Harmonized.
And he couldn't even blame Tsuna for it because he clearly remembered saying, yes. Would have said yes, anytime, anywhere.
Mobidly curious, Reborn couldn't stop himself from poking the guardian bond. It fluttered against his sternum in response, feeling a little... sluggish. Or distressed?
Reborn frowned.
Was this supposed to do that?
Reborn didn't know. He let his Flames wrap around Tsuna's fire, cradling it in a warm cocoon.
Idiot, hissed the part of him that had waded in an ocean of blood to survive. Don't you know better than to care so much about anyone?
Yes, he'd learned the lesson.
Which was why he was going to make sure no one would ever touch a single hair of Tsuna's fluffly head.
Reborn nodded, satisfied with his plans.
And, of course, that was the moment Sky Flames erupted into the night like a damned nuclear bomb.
Over there, the bond informed him cheerfully, as if he couldn't see the fucking wave of fire washing over the Estraneo mansion. He is this way.
Reborn bit out a curse and started running.
.
.
Coyote watched the swirling wall of Sky Flames burning brighter than a midday sun and a headache started to pulse behind his eyes.
If given a choice, he would have elected to leave the little Chinese heir to rot in this hellhole if it had kept Tsunayoshi Sawada away.
I-Pin's kidnapping threatened the Famiglia with war against the Triads, yes, but Tsunayoshi's existence could tear it apart from the inside. Coyote felt for the kid, he really did. The hand the poor boy had been dealt was shitty to say the least. No one should have to live through what he did, but the Famiglia had to come first, always. Tsunayoshi's feelings didn't matter, couldn't matter. There was no place for guilt or compassion. This was a battlefield and the their family was losing.
Not on his watch, dammit. Never on his his watch.
Coyote slammed a lid on the memory of a small child staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes – so timid and skinny and different from his twin – and focused on damage control.
"Set up a new perimeter," he told Andrea, then did a double take upon seeing his second vacant expression.
Coyote swore. He reached out and smacked the man a good one. "For fuck's sake, get a grip. I-Pin's just been escorted away. ETA to headquarter is a little more than one hour. Call our guys and make sure there are no problem on their end."
Andrea shook himself. "Understood." He grimaced. "His Sky's packing quite the punch."
Coyoted grunted.
Andrea's willpower was like tempered steel, which couldn't be said for the rest of his subordinates. Coyote threw a rueful look around, noting how many of his people had been struck useless by the damn brat's Flames. He couldn't blame them, not really. Even Coyote, who had been a Nono's Guardian for decades, could feel a faint tug in his chest.
Goddamn baby Skies and their goddamns Flames.
"Get this whole place cleared," Coyote said. "No one stays behind. Tell the medics to pack up their shits and pull the wounded back. I want this place empty in ten minutes."
"And them?"
The Estraneo shitheads.
"Take the anyone alive back with us and give them to the Mists."
Andrea groaned. "The paperwork – the fucking paperwork is never gonna end after this." He turned around, cellphone already in his hand, then immedialtely paused upon realizing his son wasn't following.
"Vito?"
The brat stood as if rooted to the soil, eyes wide and disbelieving as he gazed at the raging Sky Flames still swirling in the night. His arms hung uselessly at his sides, his daggers half-forgotten, the weapons about to slip from slackening fingers.
The headache throbbed harder against Coyote's skull.
What a mess.
"Vito," Andrea barked.
No reaction.
What a giant mess.
Coyote walked to the boy and put a hand on the back of his neck. The kid was reliable, with a solid head on his shoulders. He knew how to stay focused during an emergency. Except, apparently, when idiot Skies started to throw their traumas around with extreme fucking prejudice.
"Snap out of it," he ordered. "You have a job to do. Focus on it. Don't let the rest fuck you up. You're better than that."
Vito startled, giving him a wild-eyed look. Not Flame Drunk then – more like realization kicking you in the balls so hard you could feel them in the back of your throat. Was it his first time being so close to Sky Flames? Whatever the issue was, Coyote didn't have the time to coddle him. He gave the boy a little shove forward. Vito took off at a light jog toward his father.
Good.
Now, what to do about –
Andrea and Vito abruptly let out alarmed exclamations.
A blur of motions rushed past Coyote.
He lashed out, hands whipping out like a knife toward the figure's throat. The fucker dodged, feet skidding over trampled grass. A forearm slapped Coyote's fist aside, easily deflecting the burst of Storm Flames that was aiming for their head. Sun Flames flared hard and fast, and Coyote growled, his Storm raging, and then –
And then he was staring into Reborn's glowing eyes.
The air around the hitman visible shifted, massive and lethal.
Behind the two of them, Andrea had his guns out and Vito's daggers were held ready. Several others of Coyote's men were takin out their weapons.
Perfect.
Fucking perfect.
"Stand down!" Coyote shouted to his men.
"Let me pass," Reborn said quietly, each word a naked threat. "He needs me."
Coyote swallowed the urge to send the hitman packing. Reborn's body language clearly telegraphed how serious this was to him. Grating as it was to admit, Coyote knew this was not a fight he wanted right now, not without a couple of his fellow Guardiands at his back.
He narrowed his eyes in silent contemplation.
Reborn had spent months with the hidden Sawada brat. Perhaps he could actually help. Worst case scenario, he would fail, end up as crispy as a fried chicken, and Coyote would have one less pain in the ass to deal with.
Reborn's hand slowly drifted toward his guns. He was a bloody menace with those.
Vito inched forward in response.
"I said stand down," Coyote snapped. And then he stepped aside.
Reborn, the fucking madman, ran straight at the wall of fire. A space appeared in the orange Flames. He went right through it and the gap instantly closed behind him. When Coyote had tried to approach earlier, he'd almost been lit up like a firecracker on national day.
Well.
Screw them, too.
All around, people were leaving the property. Wounded were offered piggy rides, and the poor Flame Drunk bastards were being rousted from their stupor. Within minutes there was no one left in front of what had once been the Estraneo mansion but Coyote.
He stared at the Sky Flames. They still showed no sign of disappearing.
Coyote grabbed his phone and called a number he knew by heart.
"Nono? We have a problem."
.
.
edited april 2020