As you may guess from the chapter title, another 'no new myth introduced' but it also deserved a better title than 'Interlude', so.
Also, not entirely sure I like it. It has all the bits I wanted it to, but I'm not entirely sure of the flow. I don't have a beta, though, so I'll just bounce it off all of you and see what happens, I suppose. Worst comes to worst, I can revamp and repost.
Meeting Room Rule
"The hell do you think you're playing at, boy?" the one pointed out as Visconti growled, eyes narrowing in not on Tsuna, but on Xanxus.
Xanxus didn't so much as twitch, but Tsuna felt the slight recoil in his Flames, a flicker that he doubted anyone else would even notice amidst the usual restlessness of Xanxus' Wrath Flames.
Tsuna had been polite. Firm, unyielding, and had taken the position of power. He knew full well both how and when to do so, but here was one Tsuna was going to treat as a second speaking out of turn and in obvious accusation against one that had just been established as a member of another faction.
And Xanxus may not have done so in a way that anyone else would ever know, but he had flinched for it.
Tsuna's eyes narrowed, and he immediately decided to call on the rules of underground meeting room etiquette Reborn had gleefully drilled into his head. No one got to hurt his, and the way Xanxus had reacted was further proof that he was far too used to being mistreated. Timoteo and his people hadn't even made to sit, and just—no.
"Control your men, Vongola Nono," Tsuna snapped, loosening his hold on his Flames and making a point of sliding his Sky between the aggressive flare of the Ninth Guardians' Flames and his people while wrapping Xanxus up in an extra layer to keep the scorch of Flame-backed dislike at bay. "Xanxus is one of mine, and I will not stand for aimless accusations against him."
Timoteo himself had not made any aggressive moves, but his Guardians were far too used to being second only to Timoteo himself in power, and the man was obviously lax with them. That was fine outside of battlefields and meeting rooms, and Tsuna was hardly a taskmaster himself, but he had made it carefully clear to everyone that meeting rooms were places of Best Professional Behavior, and that included Hibari. Not that Tsuna would tolerate backtalk in a battle, either, but he trusted his people to be able to make snap decisions regarding how much violence was necessary to stop an enemy in a serious fight.
He did not trust the majority of them to have any sense of diplomacy at all. He knew where to draw the line, and in the meeting room, Tsuna was In Charge. ('Boss-mode', Reborn had called it proudly the first time he witnessed Tsuna put Hibari in his place during a meeting with a not-First Triad group before Shī had pulled the same 'revolution' card that the Momokyokai had. It had made it into 'The Rules' book. If Tsuna was at a meeting, none of his people were allowed to speak out of turn. Period. He loved them all but there were very few of them with any sense of tact and fewer who could use words as weapons. Reborn had made very sure that Tsuna could.)
Visconti's head jerked back, and suddenly everyone on the opposite side of the room but Timoteo—who seemed to be quite pale in shock—was bristling defensively, Flames roiling a little below visible manifestation.
Tsuna didn't bat an eye, his own Flames keeping the heat away from his people, who—as The Rules demanded—took their queues from him. Xanxus' Flames all but purred, settling under the weight of Tsuna's own.
"Sit down," Tsuna's voice was deceptively bland. "That you would treat any that should have been yours as a feral beast is despicable, and that you allow others your own to also alienate him is stupid," he ignored the audible but wordless growls from the Ninth Guardians, feeling a faint sense of satisfaction when Timoteo held up a hand and they held their tongues.
The old man didn't sit, but he did step up to the table, a frown on his face that said more than anything else that he was going to attempt to take control of the situation. "Tsunayoshi-kun, why are you here?"
Japanese, Tsuna noted. Whether to try an endear himself or patronize him wasn't entirely clear, but the form of address and gentle grandfatherly tone were not appreciated. Tsuna took a deliberate breath, "I am here, Vongola Nono, because there are a number of matters that need to be addressed, a minor side-note among which is that you have no right to refer to me in such a familiar manner. Now, you can either sit down, tell your far-too-accustomed-to-power Guardians to stop flaring at my people, and talk, or we can handle this in a similar way to how I handled the Momokyokai and the First Triad."
That was too much for the man's Storm, who took a sharply aggressive step forward, Flames blistering, "Why you little upstart-"
Everyone sitting at the table but Tsuna reacted in synchronized silence, turning identical glares on Coyote that were perfectly Flameless and heavily disapproving.
Tsuna sighed and smacked them all with his Harmony factor, cranking it up the same way he had on the plane but careful not to exude more than the equivalent of a 'peace' admonition (and keeping it very firmly on his side of the room), and the glares subsided as all twelve of them—Moeru and the snake included—glanced to him. He pointedly ignored the cut-off outburst from the Ninth's Storm.
"There is exactly one place where my people do not speak out of turn, because they trust me to do my job, to be able to tell when their input is needed or simply wanted. That is the meeting room. If your people do not trust you to be able to manage your own affairs, Vongola Nono, you are doing something wrong. This is not some casual family meeting; this is an airing of grievances between as-yet neutral factions, and I will reiterate one final time: control your people, or I will do it for you."
Finally, a response that showed something a little closer to respect—wariness. Timoteo's eyes narrowed, "Are you threatening my Guardians?"
Tsuna smiled, calm and perfectly serene—between his mother and Fon, he had some great bases to work from. "Not at all. They will come to no harm through me or mine unless they outright attack. I will simply ensure that they have reason to behave. Or the inability to misbehave, depending on how stubborn they are."
Squalo cringed down in the chair beside Xanxus, still quiet but clearly remembering the plane ride as his expression went vaguely mortified and Xanxus himself flicked a brief glance at his Rain and smirked.
Slowly, Timoteo pulled out the chair opposite Tsuna's and sat, capitulating and reaffirming the position of power Tsuna had claimed.
Two rounds to Tsuna. How many there would be, he wasn't sure, but for his own, he fully intended to win them all.
(Timoteo didn't know it, but by choosing Tsuna, by making Tsuna Vongola Heir, he had made himself one of Tsuna's. He was in a precarious position, the head of the hailed 'strongest' but clearly on the decline in both health and ability to maintain the status quo. If he didn't shape up, he'd either have a heart attack from sheer stress or get himself assassinated, so the verbal beatdown was for his sake, too.
If only he weren't so stubborn that it was necessary. Things would be so much simpler if Tsuna could just say what he wanted and be taken seriously, as he was by the Sora and Shī and even the Vindice. And he was going to have to address the matter of the Triads after this, while Shī was still readily available. Ugh, underground empire.)
xxxx
Timoteo had not been expecting… this. Well, he hadn't been expecting Tsunayoshi at all, much less a Tsunayoshi who spoke quietly, calmly, and with a near-overwhelming crash of confidence and power while claiming Xanxus as though he were a Guardian.
And Xanxus had not only not protested, he had looked proud.
He hadn't been able to formulate a response, seeing a number of very powerful individuals taking every motion from Tsunayoshi almost as though it were some kind of silent law, and not a one of them saying a word. Each had nodded while being introduced, and while Squalo and Mammon had been stiff about it, Xanxus had settled into the chair to Tsunayoshi's right with almost relaxed ease.
He knew he'd made mistakes—mistakes that would be the difference between alliance and war with any rival Mafia group, were they powerful enough to take the lead the way Tsunayoshi was doing.
Timoteo had been neatly disarmed, slapped down with sharp words while his Guardians were—not ignored, but treated like children speaking out of turn, the ire turned on the parent for not teaching them properly.
He knew he'd lost a second round to the boy when he sat, his Guardians reluctantly following suit, but he also realized how the most powerful Sky Flames he had ever felt saturated the other side of the room, a near-wall that felt like it was a mere thought from bursting into the visible spectrum keeping the blistering flares from his own Guardians well away from Tsunayoshi's people, and that he had to think of his heir as a possible rival was… daunting.
Worse, a competent and powerful possible rival, who clearly had personal reason to hold him in contempt, and Timoteo was willing to bet it had something to do with how the heavy layer of pure Sky wrapped protectively around Xanxus, and how his adopted son's Flames didn't feel nearly as… volatile as Timoteo had always known them to be.
They were still Wrath, there was no denying that, but they were smooth, even, controlled; not the flickering, roiling mess he had grown so accustomed to.
He did not want his own heir as an enemy, and he had already lost all of Xanxus' trust—worse, for valid reason—and it would be all too easy for that to spill over into Tsunayoshi. Xanxus had taken the seat of the Right Hand, and no one else had disputed it, although Reborn had stayed perched on his shoulder.
Just as silent, and just as visibly disapproving of Timoteo's lack of control.
Tsunayoshi was waiting, calm and watching him through sunset-amber eyes, whether to be polite or simply evaluating his worth, Timoteo didn't know. He did know what was expected of him, though. His Intuition was not his mother's, but he did have it. "You have grievances," he offered, tired.
Something like approval flickered in amber. "I will leave personal family matters as out of it as is feasible," Tsunayoshi told him, earning a glance from Xanxus that looked both surprised and slightly relieved.
And Xanxus still had made no protests? What was this boy?
Tsuna waited a beat, and Timoteo nodded.
The return nod was crisply professional, and Tsunayoshi was fourteen. Reborn was good, yes, but not this good, so how far off had all the things Iemitsu had reported been?
Then the list started—lack of control of his subordinates and subsidiaries, use of dangerous techniques without knowing their consequences, improper handling of a Wrath under his care resulting in Flame instability that had been approaching full Discord when Tsunayoshi had stepped in. Poor eyes in the East, lack of sufficient knowledge of allies, refusing to explain to people that needed to be able to trust him if he was going to lead.
And there was solid truth to each accusation.
Then Tsunayoshi's phone buzzed, and—considering how professional he'd been—Timoteo was surprised when the boy brought it out to glance at the screen before nodding slightly, "Bermuda has gotten back to me. He's sending Jager and two others with the list."
On Xanxus' shoulder, Reborn covered his face, a strange little almost-whimper escaping him.
Tsunayoshi glanced at him and gave a semi-apologetic shrug, "Sorry, but they are the most reliable for this."
Timoteo's Intuition sat up in alarm, but he didn't have the chance to question before the horrifyingly familiar hot-cold light-devouring darkness of the Vindice's Flames curled behind Tsunayoshi's chair as the boy himself stood and turned, Squalo and Mammon tensing visibly while Xanxus only tilted his head to eye them carefully.
No one else reacted on Tsunayoshi's end of the table, but Timoteo could feel his Guardians on full alert next to him. Tsunayoshi blithely ignored anything but the three heavily bandaged figures wreathed in black cloth and Flame as they stepped forward.
"Jager, Kris, Zhi," Tsunayoshi greeted, smiling.
All three bowed. Not deep, but the polite little bow of greeting Timoteo had seen in Japan from time to time, and the tall one spoke, voice like cracking stone and ashes and death, "Tsunayoshi-sama. The list of recorded infractions by Vongola personnel, subsidiaries, and outposts within the last three years. None have been great enough to warrant direct attention, but the outpost in Madrid has been growing more active of late and the CEDEF branch in Paris seems to have gone rogue entirely. We are aware that the latter is not directly Vongola responsibility, but we thought you might appreciate the information."
Vindice. Referring to Tsunayoshi with more respect than anything he'd ever heard from them, and bringing something to him at his request. Not speaking a word towards payment.
Timoteo swayed from the implications, and Tsunayoshi scanned the list quickly, lips tightening in displeasure before he nodded once. "Thank you, Jager. I'll let you know when I'm back in Namimori—and Kris, Zhi?"
The two flanking the one in the middle turned bandaged faces towards the boy. "Hanako and Temari were experimenting with mixing those teas you'd liked—I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you dropped by the base to try it. Jager, Kaa-san says you're not allowed to come again unless you bring Bermuda with you—she thinks he's overworking himself."
He got two nods and a dryly amused "Noted," in reply while Reborn tucked himself sullenly into Xanxus' neck, small fingers curling in black hair as though to forcibly keep himself from strangling someone. Xanxus glanced at him with an expression that said he completely understood and didn't protest the hands in his hair.
The three Vindice vanished with more of that black Flame, and the sudden lessening of the horribly oppressive aura had Timoteo slumping in his seat.
He felt Schnitten's hand land on his back, the familiar wash of his Rain easing the tension in his chest as Nie stood and moved to check him over.
He opened his eyes to see Tsunayoshi evaluating him intently as he stepped around to sit again, then the boy nodded to himself as Timoteo waved his Guardians off. He would be fine.
"Moeru," Tsunayoshi said calmly, "Would you get Venna for me, please?"
The bird—a large and beautiful but very odd creature that had been perched quietly on the back of Tsunayoshi's chair—chirped, a rather large snake sliding free of its feathers to land on Tsunayoshi's shoulders, much to Timoteo's shock.
Almost more surprising, Xanxus and all three of the Arcobaleno Tsunayoshi had claimed as his own tensed sharply, the Varia Rain going eerily still.
Tsuna tilted his head to eye the grey-blue creature, "Table," he ordered flatly.
The snake hissed, but slid off his shoulders and onto the table in front of him, moving to the side when he tapped the wood pointedly but hissing again, raising its front to flare a hood with a bright ruby circle on gold-tan underscale before it faded back into grey-blue on its belly.
Cobra. Tsunayoshi had a cobra on the table.
"It's your own fault," he told the snake. "You shouldn't have bitten me. You're lucky they're letting you near me at all."
To Timoteo's increasing confusion, the snake ducked down a bit, hood partially folding as it hissed again, sounding almost embarrassed.
Then the bird chirped, did the strangest back-hop off the chair while spreading its wings, and disappeared in a burst of what looked like normal fire. Except birds didn't do that.
Eight seconds later, it reappeared in a much larger burst of fire, planted on the shoulders of a white—was that a unicorn?
Timoteo was not the only one staring, and Ganauche was actively gaping, but Tsunayoshi's people seemed to think having flaming birds and unicorns appearing was normal. (Was he dreaming?)
"Venna," Tsunayoshi greeted before gesturing to their end of the table, "The one in the middle. What do you think?"
Said creature turned alarmingly intelligent eyes on him, then snorted and stamped, hoof cracking against hardwood like breaking tile.
Tsunayoshi rolled his eyes, "I know that," he huffed. "Can you heal him?"
The horned white head actually swung to stare at the boy and the unicorn made a odd, quiet bugle.
"He's still family," Tsunayoshi told it. "And I'd honestly rather he were in good enough condition to clean up his own messes. If nothing else, he's not allowed to die without having a long, mediated talk with Xanxus about some very valid complaints."
A much less grudging whicker answered the boy, and the creature dipped its head in something that looked a lot like a nod.
He nodded back before glancing across the table, for the first time giving direct attention to Timoteo's Guardians. "Venna says she can heal Timoteo-san, but I will warn you that internal weaknesses of the sort he is suffering from require a rather… alarming method. It is effective, and will leave him in far better health than a man of the Nono's age has any normal right to be, but you must not interfere."
Nie, being the Sun, glanced to Timoteo before answering. "What method?"
"Horn-to-heart," Tsunayoshi stated. "It is how she removed the seal that had been on my Flames and healed the damage it had caused."
Timoteo was almost too tired and worn to care if this was some kind of trick, but his Guardians were more worried. "How do we know it isn't a trap?" Croquant demanded.
Tsunayoshi sighed and glanced at his people, "I'm sorry, everyone, but I think this is going to need a demonstration. Reborn's seen it before, but for the rest of you—don't panic." He pushed his chair back from the table and turned it to an angle of perhaps sixty degrees. "Venna? Slowly, please; let them see what you're doing."
Timoteo noticed that Reborn's lips had thinned and his hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists, but he didn't otherwise react.
When Tsunayoshi had said horn-to-heart, surely he hadn't meant—but the unicorn was lowering its horn to press against Tsunayoshi's chest, right above his heart. There was a slight pause, and for an instant Timoteo thought that was it, and then the animal pushed forward, its horn sliding into the boy's chest with chilling ease and Tsunayoshi's head tipped back, his eyes sliding closed as he inhaled sharply, and the image was disconcerting for all that he didn't seem to be in pain.
There was a faint pulse of light as the unicorn stepped back, horn clear of blood, and Tsunayoshi let out a breath, raising a hand to rub at his chest, "That was unnecessary. You've been hanging out with the tóngshī way too much."
He got a snort and a impossibly chiming hoof-stamp in reply and rolled his eyes, pointedly kicking his chair back in to the table. "There. Demonstration over—I'm fine, guys, stop putting finger-dents in the furniture. Timoteo-san, can you and yours sit still for that?"
Valid question. He felt a little frayed around the edges, having seen the boy just sit there and let that spear-like weapon pierce his chest—his heart—as though there was nothing at all to fear.
And perhaps there wasn't, he had to acknowledge, because aside from a fairly small hole in his shirt, there was no sign of any damage. But to sit still for such a thing—no. No, even if Timoteo could do so, he doubted his Guardians would be able to. Tsunayoshi's clearly trusted either the unicorn or the boy enough to allow it, but even they had gripped armrests or the edge of the table hard enough to damage wood, Flames flaring with restless unease.
Tsunayoshi's expression went neutral even though Timoteo hadn't answered, "Nevermind, then, we'll readdress the idea another time," he flipped through the thick stack of papers he'd been handed, then separated them into two equal stacks, sliding one down the length of the table and keeping the other for himself, "Jager brought two copies. That is a list of the things that go against Vongola stated rules and values as have occurred in the past three years and remained either unnoticed or unaddressed. Do you think you can clean up the cesspool that has begun to fester under your nose, or do I need to do it for you?"
Timoteo stared, swallowed, and glanced down at the pile of papers, not entirely sure this wasn't some bizarre nightmare. Unicorns, firebirds, Vindice? It didn't make sense. And the list—names, dates, locations, offenses. Rape and murder of civilians. Unsanctioned extortion. Human experimentation. Not against Mafia Law, but betrayals on levels he'd never—CEDEF corruption as well, breakaways. Things were falling apart, and he hadn't even noticed? No, this—it had to be a nightmare, some kind of strangely twisted dream.
Tsunayoshi sighed sharply, "I see. In that case… well. This is unfortunate. I had hoped…"
Timoteo sensed his Guardians tense.
"Perhaps a break? What do you think, Reborn? Xanxus?"
"Timoteo Vongola hasn't taken a vacation in over ten years," Reborn informed.
Xanxus scoffed, "It'll take a hell of a lot more than a vacation to put the old man on par with you, Tsuna, but he might be able to keep Vongola from completely foundering after some time off if you lay down The Rules."
Tsunayoshi hummed, "Shī, Kuro-san?"
Kuro leaned back, "If you're half as efficient setting things up here as you were with taking over the Momokyokai, they should at least have a steady ruling structure. You may have to watch them more like some of the Tokyo newbies, though."
Shī of the First snorted softly, "If you clean out the infection, the wounds will begin to heal. You were quite thorough with the First, and I am sorry that this coincides with the conquering of the others. I will, of course, aid in whatever way I can. The cleansing of the newly conquered can wait if we simply ensure that they are kept contained and cared for until your blood-family is settled."
Tsunayoshi sighed again, and Timoteo felt—detached, really. His Guardians had started to relax a little when it became clear there was no threat of violence, though.
"Vacation it is, then," Tsunayoshi decided. "Or, well. 'Break' at least. I will not force leaving, if you are more comfortable here, but I will insist that you drop all duties once things are officially announced. We can call it a training period. You could easily claim you were simply passing all duties on to me for a set time—a month, perhaps—to see how I would handle it and therefore what areas I still need training in. Whether you remain here or go on an actual vacation can be addressed in the same way; either dropping me in at the deep end and seeing what happens or staying to observe and catch any too-great fallout."
The boy was… thorough, in the simplicity of a cover-story to maintain Timoteo's own reputation. It was starting to feel less like a nightmare, though no less unreal. Still, if he was dreaming, what was the harm?
He nodded, "That… does not sound like a bad idea."
(It wasn't until after he'd made an agreement and signed papers to the effect that it really started to sink in. It wasn't until the next day that he realized none of it had been a dream, and he had to announce his heir at the end of the week.)
xxxx
"That went well," Tsuna decided against the sudden chatter the instant they were out of the meeting room, his Elements free from the Meeting Room Rule.
Xanxus snorted, "I think the old man was in shock, Brat."
"He thought he was dreaming," Reborn corrected, hopping from Xanxus' shoulder to Tsuna's as Fon similarly relocated from Gokudera and Skull bounced to the floor before looking up with wide violet puppy-eyes.
Gokudera nodded, only half paying attention as the notebook came back out.
Tsuna grinned. Gokudera's obsession with 'UMA's was only fueled by being able to observe the Myths' antics firsthand. And Tsuna was also pretty sure he was listed somewhere in that notebook, but—well, it made Gokudera happy, so it was fine.
He knelt down to indulge Skull's puppy-eyes, scooping him off the floor while being careful not to dislodge his other two Arcobaleno, and straightened up again. It was probably a good thing that Moeru had taken the other two off—likely back to the Varia mansion—and he offered a bright smile to what looked like empty space but felt like an amused Mist beside him. "What do you think, Mukuro?"
The Mist blipped into view, "Well played, dear Tsunayoshi. I approve, even if you do mean your upcoming rule to be temporary."
Tsuna rolled his eyes, "I have enough to sort out without adding Vongola permanently just yet. Thinking of which, I still need a Lightning—Xanxus, do you know of any possible candidates? Reborn and Fon suggested Verde, but I have yet to meet him."
Xanxus half-shrugged, "I've got a fair few in the Varia, but I'm not sure if they'd suit. Any of them could hold the position, sure, and I don't doubt you could hold anyone, but you'd have to decide on your own."
Possibility, then. He'd get files later so he could arrange to 'stumble across' them and get a feel for them on an individual basis. Also, he could let Reborn and Fon do what they'd been meaning to, which was trick Verde into 'showing up', which would probably be easier with them in Sicily.
Meanwhile…
"Who wants lunch?"
Reborn perked up, before immediately losing the extra enthusiasm, "You're not cooking, are you?"
Tsuna scoffed, "Short notice for this many people and without Kaa-san to help? Not a chance. Pick a restaurant, we'll pick up the others, and I'll pay."
He wasn't even that great a cook. And by 'not that great' he meant 'passable basics only'. He'd just started learning, after all, and more as a stress-relieving hobby than anything. He was pretty sure Reborn only enjoyed it so much because it was Tsuna doing the cooking.
Reborn hummed, "Acceptable."
Despite the hectic ridiculousness and excessive amounts of work and responsibility—this wasn't something Tsuna could regret. These people were his own, and he loved them for it. (The fact that they loved him right back was really only a bonus. Sometimes an exasperating bonus, in the case of his worshipers, but a bonus all the same.)
xxxx
Fun fact: cobra hoods flare as the cobra raises the front of it's body; when they are flat to the ground, the hood is folded and they look as any other snake.