'Orange again,' he thought, gazing at his flaming hands. 'Good thing my work to see my resolve made visible doesn't seem to bother with what type of flames I have. I wonder if I can still manage the other one.'
He could.
The impending visit from those two had him scurrying to the library again, to research ways to fake a fever. He would remain tucked up in bed, recovering from whatever illness he had conveniently and coincidentally contracted, and be in no position to alert the men to the fact that he was able to use flames, or that he had any to begin with.
Once he was safely beyond that point—and wasn't it so much fun to have to deal with that man being all sappy and cooing and generally acting like an utter moron—he relaxed again. However, his opinion of his mother took another nosedive when he saw just how she acted around her husband.
It was like the sun, stars, and moon all hung off that man, and there was nothing else in the world except him and her. And the sheer amount of food and booze!
Still, she housed him, kept him fed… Maybe not every Sawada Nana was exactly the same, but they all shared certain characteristics, and he knew he was never foremost in her thoughts. It was a harsh truth and it made his chest burn and his heart ache, but it was what it was.
He pushed all that aside and focused on his plans. One, work with his flames. Two, more languages. Three, not getting caught again and inviting another visit that would see him sealed.
. . .
Reborn arrived again to bring chaos into his life. That same flier was deposited innocently into the mail slot, and his mother jumped on the offer with alarming enthusiasm.
'I have to wonder,' he thought seriously, 'if she said yes because she's lonely for adult company in the house. If so, she's going to be surprised.'
"A home tutor is coming today," Nana informed him, her hands clasped up under her chin like it was just the cutest thing. She relaxed and brought up a flier. "Will raise your child to be the new leader of the next generation. Grade and subject doesn't matter. Reborn."
He managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. "Why?"
She stared at him. "…Why not? It's probably a tutor from a professional business school for young men. I've wanted a teacher like this for you."
He paused at that. True, his grades weren't stellar, but neither were they the complete embarrassment he suffered during his origin life.
"Ciaossu."
Reborn had slipped in, a small suitcase in one hand, Leon perched on the brim of his fedora.
"I'm a bit early, but as a service, I'll evaluate you now."
Tsuna was amused to see that his mother was openly confused at the apparent age of this so-called tutor.
"Well, let's get started," Reborn chirped.
Nana quietly slinked away, possibly to go make tea and escape back into the land of oblivion.
Reborn smirked and cracked open his suitcase, revealing gun parts. "I lied," the chibi said as he swiftly assembled the rifle. "I have no openings. My true line of work is assassination. My real job is to make you a mafia boss."
"…"
Reborn took that as some kind of a response and continued, "I was assigned by a certain man to train you to become an astounding mafia boss."
"Why? Did I win the lottery in Yomi to be awarded this … privilege?"
"The method was left up to me," was the response, which naturally answered nothing. The faint quirk of the chibi's brow did say something, however.
"You're telling me I've been tapped by some stranger to be the heir to their criminal empire," he said dryly.
Reborn plastered a clearly fake look of surprise on his face. "Not a stranger, no." There was a short pause when the chibi's stomach audibly growled. "But later. I'm hungry." Reborn made the gun disappear and trotted off downstairs.
Tsuna sighed. Not so different from the last time, and not any more apt to actually answer questions. It made him wonder just how long he'd live this time, and—
'Oh, now there's something,' he thought. 'I need to not run into Kyoko-chan in the morning, or at least not care if I do. I'd rather not get into another stupid fight with Mochida-senpai. He's a jerk, to be sure, but I don't know the first thing about kendo and I'd prefer not to embarrass myself, again, by running around in my boxers.'
He heaved another sigh and went downstairs for dinner.
The next morning he got up before Reborn had a chance to use an attack as an alarm and got ready. Reborn stole bits of food off his plate, but he ignored that. If the "child" was going to be a brat he would simply ignore the bad behavior. He could emulate his mother in some respects.
Unfortunately, they did run into Kyoko. She took one look at Reborn and squealed. "How cute!"
Tsuna kept on walking, but could hear them talking.
"Ciaossu."
"Why are you wearing a suit?" she asked ingenuously.
"Because I'm in the mafia," Reborn said matter-of-factly.
She squealed again. "How cool! Well, good luck. Bye bye."
Tsuna was already a good distance ahead by the time Reborn caught back up with him. Tsuna was caught up in wondering if it'd be worth the trouble to learn how to use some kind of weapon. Definitely something to consider.
Reborn gave him a sidelong look—and wasn't it weird and a bit frightening that he had already developed a sense of where the chibi was and what he was doing—and said, "Who's the girl?"
"Hm?" He glanced over and down for a moment. "Oh. Sasagawa Kyoko is one of the school's idols. There's usually one girl and one boy, sometimes more, in other grades." Maybe he should take up the study of psychology?
That evening he was given the run-down on previous contenders for the dubious honor of becoming the next boss of the Vongola Famiglia.
"The most qualified, Enrico, was shot in a feud."
'Who takes pictures of stuff like this?' he wondered.
"The second son, Massimo, was drowned," Reborn stated, holding up a second picture.
'Seriously. They had time to take pictures of these things, but not actually save their lives in the first place? These have got to be mock-ups or something.'
"The favorite child, Federico, was found reduced to bone." Another picture was held up. "So the only candidate left to be the tenth is you."
Instead of freaking out (though he was more than tempted to) he said, "How do you figure?"
He got another slight frown for that before Reborn whipped out a family tree. Giotto di Vongola had become Sawada Ieyasu in Japan, and was Tsuna's however-many-times great grandfather.
"You are part of the bloodline and a legitimate boss candidate."
"And if I say no?"
"There is no saying no," Reborn said cheerily, though his eyes narrowed just a touch. "Don't worry. I'll make you into a fine mafia boss." Then he swiftly got ready for bed and hopped into his hammock.
Tsuna stared for a bit, then shrugged. He would play a game, but expected the chibi would shoot him for making noise. He was about to find something to read when a book bounced off his forehead.
'Oh,' he thought, vaguely remembering something similar. He shrugged again and opened it to read.
The Mafia Boss, it was titled. 'A leader who rules a criminal organization… Able to move a number of trusted members with one hand… Willing to risk even his life for the family… Surrounded by the respect and admiration of all… Seen as a hero by the children of the slums…'
He wondered who wrote this crap in the form of a child's picture book.
A gun was shoved in his face. "Oh, is that so?"
He tossed the book aside, and then caught it as Reborn tossed it at his head.
"You'll read that every day. It'll help teach you to become a good mafia boss."
"I had no idea reading obvious fairy tales romanticizing a life of crime was required reading for the brainwashing program you've obviously set up. And how is it you're qualified as a tutor? Do you have a degree? Is there a mafia university or something?"
Reborn paused as he went to turn back to his hammock and kicked him in the head.
"Ah, I see. Too insecure in your abilities to suffer actual questions about your competence," he said, nimbly skipping away and out the door. He knew Reborn would get him back for that, but at least his brain worked properly that he could back talk the chibi.
. . .
When Gokudera showed up it was much the same, which was mildly surprising. Based on not always having the same flame type, he had decided that on his death he awoke in a parallel universe, and had not just been yanked back to a specific point in his original time-line, as if he was being respawned at a checkpoint.
That begged the question: were certain people fundamentally the same? Or were certain events predetermined somehow?
He knew what was coming. He knew he needed a reason so that he did not die if—when—Reborn shot him. Gokudera was just another bully as far as he was concerned. True, he didn't have nearly as much trouble this time around, because he wasn't sealed, but Gokudera's actions seemed pretty clear.
A rough punk who thought all it took was violence to get his way. And this was the life Reborn and "a certain man" wanted for him? To drench himself in pain and blood and suffering? Is that what family was supposed to be? Abandonment, seals, denial, coercion, and drowning?
Class was boring after he righted his desk, though he took some small satisfaction in how the other students looked at Gokudera askance for his oblique attack on someone who mostly blended into the background. Had he been Dame-Tsuna he knew they would likely have laughed and approved, but he was not, so they did not.
Later on that day he was facing a familiar situation. Gokudera was eyeing him so maliciously, so ready to murder him if it meant he could be what Tsuna had no interest in. The boy was so desperate and violent and uncaring of anyone but himself.
Perhaps he should ensure the boy died as repayment for Tsuna dying the first time?
'I dunno,' he thought. 'Is that really fair? This isn't the same boy, no matter that he's his alternate. I wonder how many parallel worlds there are?'
Hayato was having his conversation with Reborn, and Tsuna saw the desperation hidden beneath the tough exterior. Hayato was a puppy, a desperate, starving puppy, so ready to commit murder just for power and recognition and something like respect.
And Reborn expected his student to—what? Win the confrontation and take this mewling puppy on as his subordinate? He felt so jaded and lacking in compassion just then.
A thought struck him just then. Why the hell was he even sticking around for this crap? He ducked away on silent cat's paws—Reborn was not unwise to the tactic, but Gokudera was too caught up in words to notice—and booked it to the library again.
He knew that confrontation would be restarted, but this was a little breathing room for him. Too bad there were no internet cafés in Namimori, and he himself had nothing more than a gaming console. Rather difficult to try to do some research on the silver-haired boy without an internet-connected computer.
The second he sensed—as he was on his way home—that he was being stalked, he diverted to that one park no one ever seemed to visit. Something about being haunted by ghosts?
"There you are!" Gokudera snarled.
He was forced to think about the boy again. Sure, he seemed awfully stupid if he believed he could become the Vongola Decimo without being of the blood, and was stupid enough to attack Tsuna with the intent to kill, but did that mean he should murder the boy in an alternate universe form of revenge? Probably not.
Maybe he was suited for mafia life after all if he could puzzle his way through a moral dilemma such as that without freaking out.
"It's time for you to die!"
He somehow managed not to roll his eyes at the boy. Unfortunately, he would have to come up with a decent regret in order to live this time, rather than one which would see him dead so soon, again.
"Fight with your dying will," Reborn almost sang as he fired.
'I regret … not dealing with this properly the first time it happened,' he decided right as the bullet pierced his forehead.
What followed was, in retrospect, ridiculous. The forced ignition of his flames removed his control and he had very little to do with his body's actions in defusing the situation. Apparently instinct and his intuition were in charge.
Gokudera eventually messed up and dropped lit dynamite at his own feet, and froze up in fear.
Tsuna's will decided to save the poor kid who had been attempting to murder him, and it was then that the flames sputtered out and stopped making him into the perfect night light. Now if only there was a way to not be stripped down to his boxers when Reborn got sadistic and shot him…
He was obviously going to have to come up with a ready supply of whacko "regrets" to use, if only to confuse the hell out of his tutor.
"I was mistaken!" Gokudera practically screamed as he dropped to his knees and bowed. "You're the one who's fit to be the boss! Tenth, I'll follow you! Command me to do anything!"
'Anything?' he wondered.
"Having the loser serve under the winner is a family rule," said Reborn, who popped up out of nowhere.
"Actually," said a much more subdued Gokudera, "I really didn't have ambitions to become the tenth. It's just that when I heard that the tenth gen candidate was a Japanese guy the same age as me, I felt I had to test his strength."
Tsuna stared at him blankly.
"But you're much more than I expected!" Gokudera smiled, which was almost as alarming as his menacing look. "For putting yourself on the line to save me, I'll place my life in your hands!"
He hummed. "First order."
"Anything, Tenth!"
"I will only respond to Tsuna-kun, so you can only call or refer to me as Tsuna-kun."
Gokudera looked as if someone had just punched him in a tender spot. "But…"
"Only Tsuna-kun," he said firmly, then bolted so he could go find something to wear. Honestly. He didn't figure he would always be able to avoid being shot with those stupid bullets, but at this rate he was going to have to stash extra clothing all over the school and town.
He wasn't a damn ninja with seals to store stuff in, though he did wonder if flames could in some way manage it. He also wondered if it was simply that Reborn was so good at reading expressions and body language, or if he really did have some bizarre power that allowed him to read minds. Either way, he needed to figure out how to send confusing or misleading signals.
. . .
He sighed when Yamamoto stood up for him and included Tsuna on his team for PE. Even without the seal he still didn't like most sports. Team sports, anyway. He never felt as if he could trust or depend on others to play fair with him included.
He did admire Yamamoto for his obvious skill at baseball, though he had no plans to try to emulate him. The boy was popular and hard working, though not at academics. The game went well enough, though their team lost, and he was somehow the one blamed, probably because everyone else actually was on the baseball team and played together fairly often.
As such, he was the one stuck with cleaning up. To his surprise, Yamamoto showed up a few minutes into things with an offer to help. Tsuna blinked a few times and nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly. At least Takeshi was actually willing to assist with something everyone was supposed to take a turn at, not pawn it off on whoever was at the bottom of the heap skill-wise. It raised his opinion of the boy.
"You played really well today," he added after a moment.
Yamamoto hesitated, obviously busying himself with cleaning for a minute. "It's not going that well."
"Huh?" He eyed the other boy in confusion.
"Lately, no matter how much I practice, my average is dropping and my fielding is screwing up. At this rate, it'll be the first time I don't start since the season began."
If only he understood half of what Yamamoto had just said…
"What should I do?"
"Uh…"
Yamamoto laughed suddenly. "Just kidding."
"I don't know much about baseball, actually, or sports in general," he admitted. "Doesn't your team have a coach? I mean, what have they been saying?"
"Oh, the coach is really enthusiastic about training. I guess I'll stay here after and practice like hell!"
'Okay,' he thought. "I hope it helps. If I knew more I'd…"
Yamamoto gave him a friendly clap on the back, then got back to work cleaning up.
Reborn was nowhere in sight when he got home, and he had already finished his homework for the day while still at the school, so he set that out in plain sight and turned his attention to his console. A game sounded like just the thing.
His tutor phased into existence at some point while he was caught up in things, and casually broke out a gun and disassembled it. "So, I hear you got asked for advice today."
He hummed. "Yeah. A guy on the baseball team. But I don't know anything about that, so I asked him if his coach had given any words of advice to the team."
"Not a fan of baseball?" Reborn drawled, which sounded really weird coming from someone the size of a baby and with a voice to match.
He shook his head, eyes still on the game. "Not any sports, really. Some people seem really cool about it, like Yamamoto-san, but too many of them are all about shoving it in other people's faces, like being able to hit a ball or swing a sword makes them super special and that they deserve people falling all over themselves to make them happy. Far too often it's about greed and selfishness and arrogance."
"Feeling stung that you didn't do so well in today's game?" Reborn taunted.
He shook his head again. "Why would I? I'm more likely to care about someone like Yamamoto, because his passion is personal and he works hard. Maybe it's his dream to play in the big leagues. The others just seem to want something to brag about."
"Sports like that teach teamwork," Reborn pointed out, obviously going for a different tactic.
"Yes," he agreed, still mostly focused on his game. "But that only works when the other people involved genuinely want to learn teamwork, and want to help their teammates, either to get better, or to shore up their weaknesses as others would theirs. If they're just in it for the glory they'd be more likely to beat a teammate down for not being what they expect or demand them to be."
"And Yamamoto himself?"
He furrowed his brow, trying to get underneath the obvious to see what Reborn was really driving at. "He seems driven, but I think he's … floundering. He asked out of the blue, and when I didn't jump to answer, he laughed and said it was just a joke. I think there might be something wrong, I just don't know what, exactly."
. . .
A student slammed into the classroom and said, "Hey, everyone! Yamamoto is about to jump off the roof!"
Uneasy and frightened murmuring started up amongst his classmates, lunch and conversations immediately forgotten.
"When he stayed after school practicing yesterday he went too far and broke his arm. C'mon! He's on the roof!"
Tsuna packed up his stuff quickly. Wrong, sure. But suicide-level wrong?
"Tsuna-kun, let's go!" Kyoko said, looking back at him over her shoulder from her position at the doorway.
"I'm coming." He arrived in time to hear Yamamoto say something about the baseball god having forsaken him. He sent a look of disgust at the crowd and trotted over to the rusted and decaying fence that surrounded the rooftop.
'And maybe I should send in an anonymous complaint about a severe lack of safety?'
"If you came to stop me it's no use," Yamamoto said dully.
"Obviously your coach's advice was more aimed at your teammates and not you," he said quietly, hopefully quietly enough that the rather noisy crowd would not overhear. "I don't pay much attention to sports, but it's clear you have the passion and drive to succeed at your dream."
"I broke my arm. I'm not good enough."
Tsuna snorted. "So if I broke my leg because I tripped, I'm not good enough to ever walk again? Are you seriously trying to make me believe that due to a mistake you have no other recourse but to take your own life? I'll be sure to let your father know your last words. I expect they'll be of comfort to him."
Alarm set in to Yamamoto's eyes.
"I can see the gravestone now," he continued relentlessly. "My beloved son, who took his own life, because the god he believes in must surely have it out for him, rather than seeing that accidents like this happen every day to people all over the world. It was so clearly a sign from a god that he had no other choice but to leave his father to grief. Such a good boy. We'll miss him."
Yamamoto's mouth had gone all pinched. It looked like a combination of anger, insult, and chagrin.
"If you're going to do it properly, ask your father. I'm sure he has a sharp knife you could use. Not quite a sword, but it is more the thing, traditionally speaking."
Yamamoto's breathing hitched and the whites of his eyes had gone a bit red.
"Are you ready to come away from the edge yet?" he asked. "To sit down with your father and talk about this? Perhaps he's experienced something similar in his life? Perhaps he could understand your feelings? Because it's a bit insulting that the person who probably means most to you isn't a part of this conversation."
Yamamoto spared a quick glance at the crowd. "But all of them…"
"What about them? Have any of them ever cared about anything except how well you do at baseball? Do any of them know the first thing about who you are inside? Or do they just care about how good you can make the school look, and them, by extension?"
That obviously hit a nerve, he realized, judging by the sharp look in the other boy's eyes, one that bordered on contempt. Yamamoto nodded, and then carefully slipped back through the gap in the fence.
"Maybe we should mention the pathetic state of this fence to your father? Maybe a concerned parent would have more weight than mere students in getting it fixed," he murmured. "It's disgraceful."
Yamamoto nodded and the two of them quit the roof, neither paying much attention to the crowd. Surprisingly, the students gathered there had the sense to just let them go.
"Sometimes," he said as they walked toward TakeSushi, "I wish I could fly. Be up there in the sky where there's freedom and the world is quieter. But then I think of something like the myth of Icarus and wonder if it's such a good idea."
"Huh?"
"Icarus and his father, Daedalus, were attempting to escape from the Greek island of Crete. Daedalus crafted wings for them, from feathers and wax. He warned Icarus to neither fly too low nor too high, for the sea would dampen the feathers and make them too heavy to be of use, and the sun would melt the wax and make the wings fall apart.
"But Icarus ignored the warnings and flew too high, too close to the sun. The wax melted, the wings fell apart, and Icarus fell into the sea, and drowned. So I want to fly, but not too high. Too low would be like saying I wasn't trying hard enough, but too high is like saying I'm arrogant and deserve my downfall. Preferably not death, though. People our age have a lot of living yet to do, you know?"
Yamamoto became very thoughtful at that point.
"There's so much out there in the world. I spend a lot of time in the library. It's quiet, peaceful. Books don't lie to you. Well, okay, the people who write them might have lied, but the books themselves… They just try to open up new worlds of knowledge for you. Or fiction, with new worlds entirely."
He laughed after a moment. "Huh. I don't normally talk this much. You're peaceful to be around," he said with a smile. "Oh, we're here. Do you want me to come in, or…?"
"…I'll be okay," Yamamoto said. "Thanks."
He nodded. "I'll see you around. Oh, and my name is Tsuna."
"Takeshi," the boy said, then disappeared into the shop.
. . .
"Is there something wrong at the school?" his mother asked one morning.
Things had been a curious mixture of hectic and calm since he had talked Takeshi down from the edge. Numerous new people had come into his life, not all of them welcome. Lambo was a goofy little boy dressed as a baby bull (though it was easier to just call him a cow more generically, though calf would be more accurate) who had been convinced by his famiglia, the Bovino, that it was necessary for him to assassinate Reborn.
All that said to Tsuna was that the Bovino were either delusional, trying to ditch the kid on someone else, or trying to get the boy killed. Lambo was desperate for attention, and his mother's habit of caving to the child's demands was doing no one any real good. It was hard to get the kid to behave when Nana insisted on undoing any progress forward.
Haru was also delusional, in his opinion. She seemed to be convinced that young children were pure angels. Anyone with even a smidgen of common sense would see Reborn and know his "purity" was in question. And to delude herself into thinking that Lambo and I-Pin (another newcomer) were perfectly normal children?
Kyoya was as much of a cypher as always—well, to anyone who had not spent time exploring the animal kingdom. But Reborn had decided the Cloud was a part of Tsuna's growing "family". Sure, because Tsuna displayed such stellar leadership qualities.
The same was true of Ryohei, Kyoko's older brother. He was a year older? Around that, anyway, and in the year above them. He was … extreme. He also seemed to have a very poor memory and wasn't all that bright, which was hilarious in a way given that he was a Sun. Ryohei-senpai had been tricked, in Tsuna's opinion, into agreeing to be a part of the family.
Bianchi was a complete menace, but at least she had stopped trying to kill him in the name of love, and it was amusing to see her reaction each time Shamal was in the area. He did wonder why Shamal refused to treat males, though. Perhaps in another world there had been a time when he needed help, and Reborn had had to force Shamal to do so? Considering everything he had experienced thus far, it was not outside reason.
Fūta was a bit odd, but as much as the kid was sweet and talented in a very peculiar way, he was also rather devious and manipulative. On the other hand, he and I-Pin were often helpful in keeping Lambo from going off on a rampage of chaos.
Giannini was also a complete menace, but he had only been around for a short time. Still his "modifications" to everyone's weapons (or ammunition, in Reborn's case) had caused a lot of trouble and anger. Poor Hayato had been chibified for a full week due to the man's tinkering with the Ten Year Bazooka.
The most interesting person he'd met had to be Dino Cavallone, Reborn's former student and his brother in tort—ahem, tutoring. Dino was a boss in his own right, commanding five thousand men. According to what he had heard, especially when Fūta was involved, Dino was a good man who tried his best to keep the people in his territory—mafiosi and civilian alike—safe.
Since he was part of the alliance it meant his family didn't do the really awful things. It was bad enough this demand that Tsuna take over an organized crime family. To have learned it was one of those without morals would have been just cause for any number of reactions in his opinion. Offing himself wouldn't likely help, but there was always a chance that in some world he was born to a different family (preferably one that had nothing to do with organized crime).
"There was another assault case there, wasn't there?"
He snapped out of his memories and tried to pay attention.
He must have looked confused for Reborn said, "Last weekend, eight prefects from the school were found with serious injuries. The victims, for some reason, had their teeth extracted. One was missing all of them."
Tsuna was about to comment when he remembered his mother was right there, busy making some food or other. For all he knew there was a bake sale coming up she had volunteered for. He found it hard to take her seriously once he had realized she treated him almost exactly the same whether he was a sealed mess or competent.
She stayed the same, despite other people being different.
"Why would someone do something like that?" he instead asked inanely.
"No idea," Reborn replied.
'Liar,' he thought.
"Hey, Tsuna," his mother said. "Maybe you should go learn some hand-to-hand fighting skill for self-defense?"
"I wasn't aware I was made a prefect," he muttered before having some rice.
"I'm worried about you," his mother insisted. "You should learn to protect yourself! Besides, a man needs to be strong, too, right?"
"Right," Reborn chirped.
"I'm still clueless as to why you think I'd be attacked." He finished up his breakfast, grabbed his bag, and left for school. The best he could figure either the yakuza were up in arms about something, or a new gang had rolled into or had formed in town. That they were attacking "the establishment" was interesting, and pointed away from him.
Of course, not knowing their end goal, that may or may not change. He still felt it odd that his mother was suddenly worried for his health and safety. On the other hand, Reborn embodied chaos, and the fact that there was chaos in the making in his sleepy little town meant it was likely his tutor would push him to be involved, even if the road to get there was convoluted.
Reborn caught up to him when he was halfway to the school and shoved a bunch of fliers at him. They were all for things like kendo, karate, wrestling and the like.
"When did she get all these anyway?"
"If Fūta were here he could come up with a ranking list of the best fighting styles to suit you."
Fūta had left while he was at school one day, though his mother had no idea why. He had rolled his eyes once out of her sight and dropped the subject.
"You could always join the boxing club," Reborn suggested.
He exhaled in frustration. As they neared the school he noticed a lot of prefects milling around. He had yet to comprehend how anyone would want to wear that absurd hairstyle in public, though it did make them very visible as part of Hibari's Disciplinary Committee.
"Considering how many cases there've been, it's no wonder they're jittery," Reborn commented from his position on the wall.
"This is mischief without meaning."
Tsuna jumped a little, then turned so that Kyoya was in his range of vision.
"But of course, these sparks that have ignited must be severed from their origin." Kyoya's phone went off, the familiar tune of the school playing.
When the prefect went to take the call Tsuna nodded and turned away, to continue on to the school.
"He's an acquaintance of yours, isn't he?"
He looked back over his shoulder.
"Sasagawa Ryohei was attacked."
'Aw, fuck,' he thought, then turned and booked it toward the hospital. Ryohei had lost five teeth and had clearly seen his attacker, someone dressed in the uniform of a school the next town over, Kokuyo.
A lot of students were at the hospital visiting those who had been attacked. He felt a sense of dread that the phenomenon was no longer confined to prefects. Kusakabe and one of his fellow prefects wandered by on that same floor, speaking of Kyoya, who had gone to deal with the issue.
'How?' he wondered. 'How would he even—unless he knows the uniform and went to Kokuyo to scout out information?'
He didn't manage to get very far (between speaking again with Ryohei and watching as Kyoko freaked out about her brother's injuries—and believed his tall tale of climbing the chimney in the bathhouse) before Leon's tail dropped off.
. . .
The boy from the woods was sitting on stage in the third floor cinema, though in truth it more resembled a place for plays, not films.
"I'm happy that we could meet again."
Of course, the boy turned out to be Mukuro himself. He had kidnapped Fūta and had twisted his thoughts to get him under his control. True, Tsuna managed to break that control over Fūta, but Mukuro was skilled with illusions, amongst other things, and would have trapped Tsuna in them if not for Reborn snapping him free with well-placed pain.
Mukuro could summon physical helpers, such as deadly, venomous snakes. But worst of all was something that should have been eradicated from the mafia world: the possession bullets. Everyone in the room was simply another body for him but for Tsuna himself and Reborn, the only people who had not been cut by Mukuro's trident.
He would remember all of this, for the next time, he thought, as the countless sticks of dynamite from a controlled Hayato exploded all around him.
