OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
History
This is how they grieve.
Departure
It happens startling fast. After everything, it almost feels like an anti-climax, but no, Tsuna doesn't doubt that this is anything but for Daemon. For Noriko.
Or it is Cynthia?
His Intuition whispers that it's both.
The Arbiter holds out her arms wordlessly, and the First Mist begins to dissolve, fading away like an illusion, like an apparition, like a bad - a good? - dream.
Daemon falls forward into her embrace and whispers something in her ear. It's a beautiful morning, and even the fog that continues to envelop them in a bubble of mirage and fantasia cannot stop the warm rays of sunlight from reaching in.
It's a quiet moment, a silent, endless one, and Tsuna sees Nori's eyes go wide. Sees her mouth press together in a thin white line, sees the faintest glimmer of tears before she blinks them out of existence.
Then Daemon Spade is gone forever and the Vindice arrive.
Fragility
People have told Cynthia over and over that the Arbiter in the gripe of an Eclipse is a wonder to be seen, a holy vision, an ethereal being descended from Heaven or Hell or perhaps both.
Sometimes, when she's floating on the high of absolute certainty and merciless power, Noriko can empathize completely. She's there, but she's not, so emotionally detached that there's really no difference.
How ironic it is, that after the most important Judgment of her life, she's feeling the most human she's ever felt in both lifetimes.
I can't do this, she thinks, Cynthia and Noriko in complete agreement for once, Daemon's last words still ringing in their ears.
But the Vindice.
The Vindice don't tolerate weakness, don't accept shortcomings, will not endure vulnerability, and so she drops into the core of her power, toxic liquid mercury, where she curls up into a ball and wishes the outside world would go away.
When the Judge turns to face the Bogeymen of the Mafia, there is nothing but a ruthless, impassive Will, inescapable as the rippling reflection in the ocean, glacial and vicious as a winter storm.
Night
The Vindice are imposing and dark and powerful as they are meant to be, bringing with them creeping tendrils of darkness, smothering and unforgiving, but in a battle between the Night and the Moon, there is no contest as to which is greater.
"Leave." They may be creatures of the same make, but there's no lost love between them, and there likely never will be.
"Your judgment is faulty," they tell her. "You are emotionally compromised. Daemon Spade deserved a far worse fate than death."
But he'll be Elena's again, Cynthia whispers.
The Arbiter doesn't care for the Vindice's intimidation nor Cynthia's sentimental pleas. "Under the Gestione Accord, he was mine to Judge. You have no jurisdiction here."
Their chains rattle ominously, but she is in no state to feel fear. "Leave."
"The Vindice will not abide a faulty Judge." And there, there's a trace of killing intent, suffocating and numbing. The children gathered around her bristle, but she is unaffected.
The Arbiter takes one step forward, armed with the inevitability of her celestial crown and the patient certainty of the earth and sun. Whatever mortals may do, beyond war and disaster and pain, she just is.
And with her, she brings light, light without flame or heat, silver and cold enough to freeze even the shadows. "You are in my domain," she says, and behind her words is the reminder that the Vindice were human, too. "What crimes have you committed?"
She can find out, if they let her. She can uncover all their secrets, if they stay. She can doom and destroy them, if they dare.
"Leave," demands the Arbiter for the third time, and the Vindice disappear.
Hush
After the penumbra have left, all is silent and still for an eternity. In the cosmic balance of the world, a single grain of sand falls in an hourglass.
The First Mist is gone. The First Moon stands in the clearing where he once stood, surrounded by the Tenth Generation of the Vongola and Simon.
At last, the fog parts, and with the arrival of the sunshine, the moonlight glow fades from Noriko, as does the Mist, held silently in place by the unnoticed glow of the Vongola Mist Ring on Chrome's finger.
White dress fading away and the years falling from her face, her irises fade to a shade of blue-grey lighter than the color Kiku initially saw, all those years ago, and she shivers.
"Cynthia," Giotto says, a spectre hovering over Tsuna's shoulder, regret and sadness and worry woven into a tapestry of anguish.
Noriko closes her eyes and crumbles, a puppet with all her strings cut.
Recovery
Shamal declares her fine, if utterly exhausted and likely to sleep for the next week.
Tsuna sits at her bedside and doesn't know what to think. He's tired, too, so tired, but he can't sleep, and his thoughts won't stop running and screeching towards a finish line he hates, but -
"Giotto-san?" he whispers. The First Generation had all disappeared after Nori collapsed, or, well, the Rings had stopped glowing, but he needs answers, and he's not sure if he can wait for Nori to wake up.
His Sky Ring remains dormant.
At his groan, Gokudera pokes his head in, face drawn and concerned. "Juudaime? Are you okay?"
Tsuna opens his mouth to say yes, but Gokudera narrow his eyes, and the words die in his throat. "I don't know," he says at last when the silence begins to drag on too long.
Gokudera doesn't say anything but drags up a chair and lets his head rest on Tsuna's shoulder in unspoken support.
Nori sleeps.