"You're joking," Mukuro says flatly.
"On behalf of the Vongola Family, Reborn, home tutor to the-"
"I ran away ."
"Knowing you," Chikusa says, lowering the letter to look at Mukuro where he's sprawled dramatically on a fainting couch, "you had a good reason."
"They don't know me."
"They know that you're the Mafia's Top expert in Minds. Rated even over the Mist Arcobaleno," Chikusa says calmly.
Mukuro closes his eyes.
Chikusa folds the letter up again and nudges one of Mukuro's knees to the side so that he can sit down on the couch. He's been trying to push down the nerves that have been rattling around his stomach ever since Lancia sent him a message about what happened with Mukuro after his meeting with the Vongola.
He's never really known how to treat Mukuro after the first time Mukuro had been dropped back into the puppy room, half dead and remembering another life. Before that Mukuro had just been one among the many other young kids that the Estraneo dumped into a mostly padded room together. He hadn't been special, but everyone chose favorites, just for the familiarity. Chikusa had liked his hair. And it was petty, but he thought that Mukuro looked the most like him. A pair of East Asians in the sea of Europeans the Estraneo had managed to capture. He'd liked to imagine that they really were brothers. That he'd one day manage to figure out a way to escape, and he'd lead his little brother out and they would never have to get hurt again.
Afterwards, with each new life Mukuro was forced to remember, he'd become more of a force of personality. He hadn't recognized Chikusa. The lives had over written over each other in a colorful confusion, and Chikusa knows that Mukuro had mostly managed to get them to settle, but he'd never quite dared to ask if Mukuro ever remembered his life before the Estraneo killed him the first time.
And Chikusa had never quite known how to treat the adult who insisted on taking care of him, who used to be his little brother. He'd clung to him, not knowing what else to do. But he never managed to talk with him really.
"Give me a reason," Chikusa says. "I can write a refusal without one, but you know the Vongola - they'll keep pushing."
Mukuro sighs.
"No. No, you're right. They'll just keep pushing. And we can use the money and prestige."
Chikusa watches him lay there and just breathe.
"Do you want me to talk you out of it?" he offers eventually.
"Want? Yes. Need? No." Mukuro opens his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. He turns his head after a moment to look at Chikusa. "You were there, weren't you? When the Estraneo broke me? You were there at the end at least."
"I was there before, during, and after," Chikusa says.
"What was I like, after?" Mukuro asks. "Did I know things I shouldn't?"
"Why the past tense? You've never stopped." Chikusa unfolds the letter to look at its contents again, noting what he'll need to address in his reply. "Why do you ask?"
"He was like that. The boy they had me examine. He knew things he shouldn't. Felt things he shouldn't."
"Do you think you knew him?" Chikusa asks as he looks up, morbidly curious. He doesn't think Mukuro's ever met anyone he actually knew in a past life.
"He said he only remembers being Sawada Tsunayoshi. He said it like he knew what I was asking. But I checked the records - none of his branch of the Sawada family have been named Tsunayoshi before him, and the Vongola only had sporadic contact with the Japanese before Iemitsu came 'to find himself' or whatever. No other Sawadas - and certainly no one trusted enough to be allowed into the Vongola Don's bedroom." Mukuro sighs and covers his eyes with his forearms. "And if I can't remember, I don't know why he would trust me so."
"Some sort of precognitive ability then?" Chikusa asks. "Maybe he's seen that he can. He certainly managed to gather his guardians rather quickly."
"He - . . . I want to say that's impossible. Precognitive abilities are so rare . . . but you're right," Mukuro says. "Though I wonder then how far he can see."
Chikusa hums distractedly. He's got a fairly good idea what he's going to write as a reply to the letter now. "I'll be back with a draft of the response."
"Thank you." Mukuro moves his arm from before his eyes to give Chikusa a smile.
"I'll be coming with you," Chikusa warns him. "Some of the others maybe too. I don't trust you on your own. Not after last time."
"Ah," Mukuro says. "I'm sure it will be fine."
"It will be."
And yes, that's a threat.
()
"I've figured out an appropriate motivation for Dying Will Mode," Tsuna says when he wakes up in the hotel. Then there's the almost familiar, "Please don't ask me any questions. I am not currently allowed to answer personal questions."
Reborn silently adds a note to the shared report and flags it to make sure Shamal and Hibri Taka see the update.
"Time limit?" he asks.
"It is recommended that Sawada family magics or other mood altering magics not be applied to me or used for a period of thirty six hours. Reminder: mood altering or mood stabilizing drugs have a history of bad interactions with Sawada family magics."
Reborn pauses. He adds that to the report.
"That's shorter than last time," he comments when he's done, looking to see if that prompts a response.
There's nothing.
Reborn pauses, part way into climbing into his hammock.
"You said mood stabilizing and mood altering drugs are not to be used. Would physical contact like a hug or cuddling negatively affect you or your recovery?"
"Physical contact is the recommended treatment for alleviating current symptoms."
Reborn sighs and goes to poke his head into the common room of the suite.
"He's awake. He said it would be good if anyone wanted to hug or cuddle."
The stampede is noisy pushing past him. He doesn't pay attention to whatever they decide beyond making sure that someone 's going to be with Tsuna.
He's just glad he'd factored days off from physical training into the schedule.