Notes: Heads Up Readers: there's discussion about Takeshi's (canon but slightly altered to fit AU) suicidal behavior in this chapter as Tsuyoshi returns to be the Dadliest Dad.

Chapter Eight: Tempo of the Heart: Steady, Strong, and Reassuring

Mukuro suddenly found all of Tsuna's weight on his legs instead of only a portion. With his eyes still closed, he could hear Ryouhei moving, standing, but he couldn't pay attention to it. He was almost done- almost finished- he had to concentrate.

There was the sound of impact, of flesh hitting flesh, and a grunt of pain.

Immediately following that, Mukuro's face was splattered with a warm liquid. Despite himself, his eyes jerked open. The first thing he saw was fresh blood sprayed across his arms and Tsuna's exposed chest. There was more of it on his cheek, dripping down his chin like tears, and he looked up for the source of it.

Grey eyes looked back at him. Ryouhei offered a smile, one that quickly dropped away as his gaze fell to Mukuro's hands. "Mukuro!" He shouted. Mukuro couldn't believe he was shouting, breathing, speaking. There were bright red tentacles sticking out of his torso and abdomen- three of them. Another two dug into his arms.

"You have to concentrate to the extreme!" Ryouhei's hand reached out to him, pushed at his cheek, forcibly trying to move Mukuro's gaze off him and back down.

Mukuro couldn't look away, though, not when he could see all that blood, all those injures, all those tentacles. Without his attention, his hands began to sink into the hole he had been filling with necessary organs.

Mukuro! Tsuna's heart! Chrome's words snapped Mukuro's gaze away from Ryouhei's face. "His heart-"

The shadow over him was gone in the next moment. Mukuro flinched at the heavy sound of a body- Ryouhei's body- hitting the ground. His fingers pressed down, phasing through the illusion and that's when he felt it.

"Don't!" His mouth moved, but it was Chrome's voice coming out not his. "Mama! Don't! We just got his heart beating again!"

He looked up into the face of a madwoman- a maddened ghoul- with bloody-black eyes staring down at him, and Chrome spoke for him again, "Tsuna's heart is beating, Mama, but we need to help him breathe. Okay?"

The woman is poised for attack, her whole body arched over him, but she's stopped dead in her tracks. He would think her as dead as the body in his arms if not for the fact that her breath was ragged, heaving, and for the fact that he has just brought back Tsuna from death. "I have to give him some air," Mukuro explained, "His heart is beating again, but I have to give him some air. Okay?

Slowly, she nodded her head. She didn't move back but she didn't advance either. Swallowing nervously, Mukuro bent over Tsuna. His back was exposed to her and her weapons, but it had to be done. Taking in a lungful of air, Mukuro pressed his mouth over Tsuna's and breathed it out again.

He repeated this until the heartbeat under his palm strengthened, until the chest moved on its own accord. Light headed, he drew back and let out a shaky laugh. "Mama?" He said, looking up at the woman, "Tsuna needs to go to the hospital. I've done everything that I can for him." He started lifting the boy up.

In a second, Nana swept up Tsuna in her arms. She cradled the boy against her chest, his arms dangling and his head on her shoulder. "Thank you," she said. Then she drew back and kicked off the ground. Mukuro slumped over, exhausted, propped up with one arm.

A hand on his knee makes him jump and he looks up to see Ryouhei kneeling in front of him. Blood is seeping through the young man's clothes, but he's grinning. "You did it? You saved him?"

"Yeah," Mukuro blinks in surprise as Ryouhei cups his face in his hands. He feels the warmth of his blood, the callouses on his hands and Mukuro can't help but smile. "He'll live."

Ryouhei's grey eyes are shining. His whole expression is lit from the inside like the sun is underneath his skin. "That's amazing. You're amazing."

Mukuro blinked and felt his face heat up. Okay, nope. I cannot. This is too much. What is this boy even thinking?

I don't know, Chrome said unhelpfully in the back of his head, but he's very cute while thinking it.

Chrome. No. "You're injured. You're losing a lot of blood." He reached up and pulled Ryouhei's hands from his face, "You're delusional."

"This is nothing," Ryouhei said, shaking his head. "I've lost more blood than this before! My body is extremely strong! A few holes like this won't keep me down!" He held Mukuro's hands, which was exactly the opposite of what Mukuro was hoping for. He surged to his feet, dragging Mukuro along with him. Blood dripped readily from his wounds, staining his shirt, and Mukuro did his best not to stare.

"How often does this sort of thing happen?" Mukuro asked. He managed to wrangle one hand free so he could gesture around the yard. It was mangled, the cloud arena torn up from the still very collapsed robot and then again from Tsuna's fight with Hibari.

"Not very often," Ryouhei admits, still holding onto Mukuro's hand. He sways a little on his feet, and Mukuro eyed him.

"Shouldn't you go to a hospital?" Mukuro tugged on his arm. Ryouhei held fast.

"As soon as we tell Kyoya that Tsuna's better." Ryouhei said. He started walking towards the others, fingers tangling with Mukuro's. Blood was dripping down his arm and Mukuro gave up on rescuing his hand from the boxer's tight grip. "You need to go too, remember? Chrome's arm has been bitten."

That's right. Mukuro couldn't feel it because Chrome was maintaining that illusion while his attention and strength was poured into Tsuna's illusionary organs. He could feel them in use, distant and growing more so. "Chrome's wound is much less serious than yours. She'll recover without the hospital." He could feel Chrome's relief in the back of his head.

Hospitals still freaked her out, even after the operation that had, well, technically saved her life. And changed it irrevocably.

"Kyoya!" Ryouhei shouted, lifting his free hand, "Mukuro did it! Mama went and took Tsuna to the hospital now."

Hibari gave a nod, but his eyes were on Xanxus and Squalo. "Yamamoto-san has been contacted to come and pick up his son and their property."

Mukuro slid his gaze past Hibari's shoulders to the two Italian men. A smile spread across his face at their expressions. They stood so close together they were nearly touching. Squalo's face was as white as his hair and Xanxus looked somewhere between wary and angry. Protective. That was probably the right word. He met the taller man's gaze and smiled even wider. "Tsuna will live," Mukuro said, "No thanks to you, mafioso."

Xanxus doesn't rise to the bait. What a shame. "What happens now?"

"We wait," Hibari answered. His gaze flicked to the blond Belphegor, "You accept responsibility for the unclaimed humans of the Varia?"

"Sure!" Belphegor grinned. "That is Lussuria, Mammon and Levi, yes? The Prince can maintain them."

Hibari shook his head, "Mammon is one of those cursed seven, is he not? His body rights are claimed by another. Under your name you have the other two humans."

"Mammon's claimed?" Belphegor cocked his head to the side. "By whom?"

Hibari turned his head away, his lips twisted in displeasure. "Another one of that group. As for you, shark human, you will accompany Yamamoto-san. Takeshi is a minor so his rights default to his father. The same goes for you, monkey king. Mama is in control of your rights, because Tsuna is a minor."

Abruptly, he turned on his heel to stare at Mukuro. His gaze was intense, his human eyes as hard as the steel they resembled. "You are certain Tsuna is alive?"

"I swear it on my current life. So long as my organs are in his body, they will support his life." Mukuro smiled, pressing his hand over his heart. His other was still held by Ryouhei and he stood in such a way that Hibari wouldn't see it.

Hibari nodded sharply. He turned towards the remaining unaddressed member of the group, Gokudera.

The silver haired teen knelt on the ground beside Yamamoto. He held a cell phone in either hand, tears on his face and a bewildered expression. Hibari spoke to him a little softer than he had the others, "You will return to Mama's house. She is the one to whom you belong as well."

"I… Right…" Gokudera said numbly. He blinked and ducked his head, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

It was quite the motley crew that stood around, Mukuro mused to himself. Well, to himself and Chrome. There were the Italians in their varying stages of distress and panic. There were the other ghouls- Hibari who had reverted into the efficient, rule abiding creature he was, Belphegor who loitered with a grin and a rocking back and forth on his heels, and Ryouhei with his warm hand curled around Mukuro's own. Yamamoto didn't really count as he was still unconscious on the ground. And then there was himself.

Exhaustion was creeping up on him, both mental and physical. He had poured a lot of effort into those organs. Even though he had taken as much flame from Ryouhei as he could manage to bolster the strength of the cells, it had still been an ordeal.

Chrome?

Yes? Her voice was steady in his thoughts. Good.

Be a dear and take over for me, would you? I'm going to rest for a while. Tsunayoshi's demanding a bit more attention than I expected.

Ah, came her reply, I'm still a little weak myself, but yes. I can take over.

He nodded absently and closed his eyes. He felt the mist pull away from his body, felt Chrome rise to the surface as he began to sink down into the cool depths of her thoughts. Distantly, he noticed her turning to look at Ryouhei. The full-ghoul looked at them with widening eyes as Mukuro's image melted away to reveal Chrome's beneath. With the last of his direct influence on her features, Mukuro touched Chrome's lips into his own smirk and spoke, "You wouldn't let a pretty girl fall onto the ground in exhaustion, would you, Ryouhei?"

There was the sudden sensation of a strong arm curving around his- Chrome's- middle to support her on her feet and, chuckling, Mukuro gave Chrome full control once more.

Hayato sat, as though nothing had happened at all, at Mama's kitchen with a cup of coffee cradled between his hands. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that this was the night after the Rain Ring Battle, where Tsuna had sat on one side and Mama across the table while they told him the truth.

"Love is… blinding," Mama had said with a distant look in her eyes. "Iemitsu saw what he wanted in me and I saw what I wanted in him. He wanted… a wife and a child. A home to return to. I wanted to keep him by my side forever. But it turns out what we want isn't necessarily what makes us happy."

The porcelain was warm under his palms. The coffee was dark, rich with flavor and unsweetened. He had gotten used to that quickly in Namimori. Sure, there were places that served cream and sugar, and places you could order mochas or lattes, but the plain black coffee of Namimori was good. Really good. Hayato hadn't needed sugar in his coffee back home in Italy, but here he didn't even want it.

Back home in Italy, he thought with a bitter twist to his lips, as if I can ever go back there. I probably stink of ghoul. Especially after tonight…

The scraping of another chair's legs made Hayato snap his eyes open and look up.

Xanxus, all six feet plus of him, with those damn feathers in his hair and his black clothes still scuffed from his fight, dragged the chair across the table out and then dropped into the seat. When he moved his head, there as a flash of white at his ear, the bandage on his lobe, and his neck had been wiped clean.

Hayato scowled at him.

Xanxus lifted a lip in a silent snarl.

Sasagawa Kyoko, the one who had made the coffee in the first place, put a cup in front of Xanxus. She smiled, but Hayato had seen plenty of her smiles to know that this one was barely friendly. "You'll have to be satisfied with black coffee, sir. Mama seems to be out of cream and sugar."

Xanxus grunted and took a drink.

Hayato glanced to Kyoko. She turned a much friendlier smile to him. "Are you hungry, Gokudera? Mama's got some human food that I can prepare if you want it."

He shook his head. "Have you heard anything from your family?"

"Not yet." Kyoko sat down at the table with them. She had her own mug, one that was shaped like a cat, the handle being the tail and small paws at the base of it. "Nothing since Mom said Ryouhei was getting treated."

"Oh. Okay." Hayato slouched in his chair. He turned his cup back and forth, sighing. He looked up again at Xanxus, "Can I ask you something, Xanxus?"

And how weird was that? To address the leader of the Varia- Vongola Nono's own fourth son- by his first name? Not to mention sitting with him at Tsuna's mother's kitchen table, drinking coffee in the middle of the night, waiting there like they were participating in a midnight vigil in privacy instead of at the hospital where so many of the others were.

"I don't know, trash. Can you?" Xanxus snapped, his voice and his manner as rough as the shaggy cut of his hair.

They both jumped as Kyoko slammed her fist on the table. "You will be respectful in Mama's house. You two are equals at this table."

"Tch," Xanxus, too, slouched in his chair. Hayato stared at him. The way he moved, with purposefully projected indifference, felt weirdly familiar. Oh, he thought. I do that in school all the time when Yamamoto is being so damn irritating. "What do you want to know, kid."

"I grew up in Italy," Hayato started. He noticed Xanxus's irritated glare of 'I knew that, idiot' and dropped his gaze to the black coffee in his cup. It was easier to talk when he didn't have to acknowledge that sharp gaze. "So I know what the ghouls are like there." He shivered out of habit but pressed on, "I understand why Squalo was so surprised about the ghouls here in Namimori. They're a lot more… civilized. Human-like. I guess."

"And?"

"How did you have ghouls in the Varia? I mean- With what your organization does, I suppose it wouldn't be difficult to keep them fed but…. Italian ghouls aren't really known for their, uh, domesticated nature." He flicked a glance up at Kyoko, to see if she was offended, but she was quietly sipping her drink. She looked curious, but only mildly so. After all, she was only there to make sure that they stayed out of trouble.

"Obviously they weren't Italian." Xanxus said. "Some were French. I had a few German ones. The Russian twins were excellent assassins, I was even considering employing them as cloud guardians, actually. The British ones pass for human almost as well as the ones here in Namimori. In fact, I even had a few Japanese ghouls." He set his cup down sharply. Hayato looked up and saw Xanxus staring past him, over his shoulder, like he was looking at something from his memories, instead of the actual wall there. "They were good. We scouted a lot of them- Squalo and I and Lussuria a bit too. We found them ourselves, brought them in, and they swore their loyalty to the Varia, with me as the boss…"

"Even… Even though you knew the Vongola-"

"Look," Xanxus sat up abruptly. His eyes focused on Hayato at once and he leaned one elbow on the table, "That rule about Vongola associates not enlisting ghouls into their service is a new one. It came out when Enrico died. It came out because Enrico was killed by ghouls in the service of a famiglia that's under Vongola's banner. Enrico died and my father finally conceded that fucking Sawada Iemitsu was right." His empty hands tightened into fists. His knuckles were white. Hayato couldn't look away from them. They had marks across the back, silver white and faded brown scars. One had part of a black line of a tattoo on it, but he couldn't tell what it was from the angle.

"For years, that bastard was pushing to eradicate ghouls within branch organizations. At first it would have only been lesser families, but because of Enrico…" Xanxus let out a sharp breath on his brother's name. "Because of his murder, the ruling was for all associates of Vongola. Even the Varia. If we were to continue our employment contract with them, we had to give up our ghouls."

"Give up?" Kyoko's soft voice interjected.

Hayato blinked at her. She had her head cocked. The mug in her hands was between the table and her frowning mouth. He swallowed with difficulty and explained for Xanxus, "They were executed. Heads removed and bodies burned… right? That's what you said before, Xanxus?"

Xanxus had turned his head away. His fist was pressed against his mouth. Hayato watched his jaw working, like he was clenching and unclenching the muscle. His silence only lasted a minute before he turned, slamming his own fist down onto the table, hard enough to make his cup jolt. "Don't look at me like that," he snarled, "I didn't have a fucking choice in the matter! They just- They just-" He dragged his hand through his hair, pulling on it hard enough that Hayato winced in sympathy.

He covered his eyes with one hand and whispered, "I told the company about the ruling. I told them I wouldn't accept it. I told them we would find other contracts. Hell, we'd move the whole group out of Italy if I had to but they- They said- To a soul they all said that that would be bad for the Varia. They gave their loyalty to me, to the organization, and because of that-"

Hayato felt his chest tighten, his gut fill with ice. He knew the loyalty of family. If Tsuna had been faced with a choice like that, if Gokudera himself was dragging down the family-

"They turned themselves in?" He asked, hoping he was wrong but knowing he wasn't. "They really did that?"

"I recruited them," Xanxus said, his face still half hidden behind his hand. "I fucking recruited them myself. I welcomed them. They were- They were my people. Mine. And I just let them… I just let them all die."

There was a cracking sound, followed by dripping. Hayato swallowed nervously as he saw coffee spilling from the side of Kyoko's mug. She blinked, noticed what she had done and rushed to her feet. "Excuse me." She hurried away into the kitchen, clearly fretting over the cracked cup.

Xanxus lowered his hand from his face. He looked pale, shaken almost, as he watched her trail away. "They really…" His voice was low, almost undertone, clearly only for Hayato's ears, "The ghouls here really are something else. To react like that, hearing about ghouls they've never met in a country they've never gone to."

"In Namimori," Hayato whispered back, "The ghouls are just like humans. They're so much like humans that I didn't… I didn't even suspect them, any of them. You think I would, considering where I came from but I got here and I felt safe. The moment I was really in the town, I felt safe." He rubbed at his forehead, remembering something and chuckling because of it. "I told Reborn that, actually. I told him that this place was too peaceful. That it felt wrong. I didn't have to look over my shoulder. I wasn't afraid anymore. I thought that it was just because I finally had… somewhere to belong but…"

"When we arrived, I thought there weren't any ghouls at all," Xanxus admitted. "It felt too calm for ghouls. You can't smell blood in the air. Even the darkest shadows are just shadows. Squalo has a good sense for ghouls and he felt calm here. We knew the town was protected, so we just thought… I mean, the Vongola heir is here. My father visited this place when Tsunayoshi was younger and he never…" He laughed, sudden and bitter and too loud for the quiet of the room. "Fucking Iemitsu lived here and he hates ghouls so much."

Xanxus continued to laugh, "And his wife! His own goddamn wife! She was a ghoul the whole fucking time!" He leaned back in his chair. His laughter grew in volume and hysteria. Hayato felt a smile pulling at his lips and then he too was laughing. He laughed until tears were in his eyes, then streaming down his cheeks. He laughed along with Xanxus, but soon, too soon, each breath turned to sobs.

Hayato pressed both of his hands over his mouth and curled over, forehead pressing against the table as he began to cry for the second time that night. He kept crying even when he felt the weight of a hand on the back of his head, fingers threaded through his hair. Tearfully, he looked up at Xanxus. There was pity in the older man's face, but Hayato couldn't even feel angry about that.

His whole body, from the roiling emotions in his belly to the chill of his skin to the trembling of his limbs, was consumed in his fear. Pulling his hands down from his mouth, he spoke between gasping, sobbing breaths, "Reborn- w-went b-back. He left. He left. He w-went back to the V-Vongola. He m-must have." Hayato wiped at his face with both hands but the action was in vain. "He'll tell them. Tell them about Tsuna. And then- and then- They're going to come for us-"

Xanxus's eyes widened. His fingers, curled in silver locks, tightened into a painful grip but Hayato kept talking. The words, the source of his fear, dropped from his lips like the tears from his chin, falling into the air between them and filling it with the revelation he had had abruptly. "They're going to come here and kill everyone- Everyone. The Vongola is going to execute Tsuna and Mama and Yamamoto and Hibari and the Sasagawas- Everyone is going to die."

He reached for Xanxus. The assassin was older than him, more experienced. He was the heir, the Vongola Decimo. Xanxus was the only hope that Hayato could see as his fears crowded him, "Please," he begged, "You can't let them. Please. I don't want my family to die again- Tsuna and Mama and all the rest. Xanxus, please. They're all I have left in the whole world. Please. Help us. Help me. Please. I'll do anything."

The hand on the back of his neck was as heavy as a yoke. Hayato's fingers curled uselessly against the polished wood of the table, too short to reach Xanxus's body and not daring to grab his arm. He met Xanxus's gaze, those orange eyes wide, surprised, but still able to burn right through him. "Please," he reiterated, "Anything at all."

Xanxus's fingers squeezed tighter for a second and then released Hayato entirely. He withdrew his arm, using it to prop himself up as he stood from the table. Hayato lifted his pleading gaze up and his heart stuttered to a stop at Xanxus's expression.

Lips pressed into a severe line, brows furrowed, with his Sky flame burning in the back of his eyes, Xanxus nodded. "I won't promise anything," he said seriously, "But what I can do, I will." Then a wicked grin spread across his face, drawing his lips back to show too many teeth in a smile reminiscent of a ghoul's. "I came here to gain the power to rip Iemitsu's world apart and kill him. I won't be satisfied until that's accomplished.

"So stop crying, brat. The right hand can't afford to be weak when his boss is injured." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth, tossing it at Hayato. It landed on his hands and he clutched at it. It was a handkerchief. He blinked at it, tears drying up as Xanxus continued to grin. "Oi, girl!"

Kyoko poked her head out of the kitchen too quickly to not have been eavesdropping. "Yeah?"

"I need to talk to my shitty guardians. Can you bring them here or should I go to them?"

Hayato, still wondering at the handkerchief, used it to clean up his face. Was it silk? It felt like silk. In the corner there was some stitching. His thumb ran over the two letters. XX. Roman numerals? Wait. No. Initials. Would he be so egotistical as to…. Yeah. Yeah he would be.

"...It's nearly one am," She said.

"Yeah? You're the one serving coffee at midnight, kid." Xanxus said, "And I'm going to need more, by the way."

"You should go to sleep," Kyoko suggested. "Both of you. Whatever you have planned can wait."

"Tch," Xanxus waved his hand dismissively. "Where the hell am I supposed to sleep anyway? I've seen the couch in this house. That's short as shit."

"There's a spare room," Kyoko said, "Mama said you could sleep there."

"Wait," Hayato jerked to attention, "Spare room? No there isn't. That's my room- I mean- Lambo sleeps there too sometimes, so it's not exactly mine but-"

"Mama said." Kyoko insisted. "You can sleep in Tsuna's bed, Gokudera."

"Th-The Tenth's?" he stuttered. "I couldn't!"

"Technically," Xanxus said, "I'm the Tenth."

Hayato groaned. "Whatever! But there's no way I'm going to sleep tonight anyway. I'm too wound up."

Kyoko sighed. "You boys are being ridiculous. Fine. Don't sleep. Stay up and be exhausted all tomorrow. As long as you don't leave the house tonight, I don't care." She tossed her hair and said with a sniff, "I'm going upstairs to sleep in Mama's room. Do not leave the house. I'm not saying this for no reason. There's a bunch of blood in the air outside and it's put a lot of ghouls on edge. After midnight is hunting time so it's safer for humans to stay indoors. Understand?"

Hayato shivered, "Yeah. Okay." He glanced to Xanxus, who was looking towards the kitchen window with a frown.

"Xanxus?" Kyoko asked, "Do you understand?"

He grunted. "Yes. No leaving the house." He looked to Hayato, "I'm taking that damn bed. You can have the couch, kid."

"Good." Kyoko said. She nodded to them both. "I'm going to check the locks one more time. Goodnight boys." She walked past them and out of the room entirely. Her footsteps receded down the hallway.

Xanxus rolled his eyes, grumbled something under his breath in, is that French? What the fuck? Hayato wondered, Is he seriously complaining in French so I won't understand him? And then Xanxus said to him, clearly, "Get some goddamn sleep sometime, boy. Don't make yourself useless on purpose."

"Fuck off," Hayato grumbled. "It won't be my first sleepless night this month." He hadn't slept after the Rain Ring Battle either. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of trying. Hayato knew better than that for this night. His nightmares wouldn't leave him alone for a moment.

Xanxus clicked his tongue in annoyance and then stalked out of the room, leaving Hayato alone to his thoughts.

Sulking into his coffee cup, with the silken handkerchief curled in one hand, Hayato stared off at nothing and settled in for a long, silent night alone.

Squalo stepped silently into the hallway, his wet hair coiled in a towel draped over his shower and the borrowed sleeping yukata drawn as tight as he could over his lanky frame. There was light coming from a doorway at the end of the hall, opposite of the room he was supposed to be sleeping in, and the sound of someone moving quietly around a room.

He glanced into the darkness, towards the bedrooms, where he could hear the soft snoring of the teen ghoul. Takeshi had woken up shortly after his father had arrived and the concussion Hibari had given him had healed. His protests had all been cut short by Tsuyoshi, and ultimately the boy had been taken home instead of to the hospital.

Not yet tired, despite the late hour, Squalo turned towards the light. Following the footsteps, and the soft sounds of a radio, he found Tsuyoshi in the kitchen. It was almost as spacious as the one that he used in his cafe and as well taken care of. Squalo hesitated in the doorway and the other man gestured for him to enter the room without looking up from his work. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?" he asked, absently reaching out a hand to turn down the radio.

The soft voices became indistinguishable. Squalo strained to hear what was being said, or sung, but couldn't quite make it out. He took a seat at the small kitchen table, folding his arms over his chest. "I could use a drink," he said. "Something alcoholic, preferably."

Tsuyoshi chuckled. He set down the knife he was working with and wiped his hands on a cloth. "You're in luck. A friend of mine heard that Takeshi picked up a human boyfriend again and brought around a gift." He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. "It's not something I could enjoy myself, unfortunately, but it's the thought that counts…"

He peeled back the covering and rummaged in a drawer to find a corkscrew.

"Ghouls can't have alcohol either?" Squalo asked. It took a lot of will to look away from the knife that Tsuyoshi had been using. The blade could be a weapon as well as a tool and he was aware that Tsuyoshi could use it efficiently in both ways. He tightened his grip on his own arms until his fingers began to hurt. Time, a change in scenery, and his long shower had helped distance him from the panic induced from hostile ghouls but…

It was there, on the backs of his eyelids, whenever he blinked.

"Not the way humans prepare it for their own consumption," Tsuyoshi said. He poured some into a glass and placed it on the table near Squalo. "We have something similar to it."

"Oh?" Squalo took the cup in one faintly trembling hand. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and reminded himself that Tsuyoshi hadn't shown even the slightest bit of aggression to him. Not even when he had found Takeshi passed out in the grass and blood all over the field. "What is that?"

"Blood wine," was the reply. Tsuyoshi returned back to his place at the counter. There was the staccato of his knife blade hitting the cutting board, a dull thock tho-thock that reminded Squalo of the ticking of a clock more than anything else. He could see the knife blade flash in the kitchen light. He reminded himself that all the ghouls that had ever threatened him- had ever been a real concern in his life- had come at him bare handed with kagune out.

Tsuyoshi showed no signs of attack. Squalo wondered if he'd strike with knife or kagune first. He had no intention of finding out which it would be.

"Figures," He muttered, sipping the wine. It tasted fine, though it wasn't any vintage he recognized or particularly special in any way. It was wine and that was enough. He sipped in silence, watching Tsuyoshi under lowered lashes. As he grew accustomed to the knife, to the man's movements, he noticed a pattern to them.

With his left hand he reached to a plate beside him and pulled off some uncooked meat that was clearly pre-prepared from the irregular cylinder shape of it. Each strip was carefully sliced and then those slices were placed into a different container on the right. Squalo watched for several minutes, nothing said between them, before his mind actually digested what his eyes were seeing.

"That isn't fish," he said abruptly.

Tsuyoshi's knife hesitated mid-slice. Then he pointedly finished the motion and continued his work. "You're right. It isn't."

Squalo took a gulp of the wine to get rid of the sudden dryness of his throat. His breath came short so he forced himself to look away and take a deep breath. He let it out in a gusty sigh. His gaze settled on the fridge and the pictures held onto it with various magnets. There was Takeshi, grinning, in a baseball uniform with a bat resting on his shoulder and a helmet tucked under his other arm. Another one of him as a child, holding a baseball in both hands and gumming on it toothlessly. Another, perhaps the most recent, with a bandage on his cheek and one arm around the Sawada boy's shoulders. Gokudera, the other boy attached to Sawada at the hip, was also there on the other side of the young brunette, smiling awkwardly.

"He really likes baseball," Squalo said. Anything to keep his mind off of the fact that Tsuyoshi was casually slicing up human flesh in his own kitchen. "Has it always been that way?"

"Well, not always." Tsuyoshi said. "Last year he picked up the sword instead of the bat. Sure, baseball may always be his true love, but he practices just as much with a blade as he does on the field."

Squalo blinked, "Last year?" He was already reaching for the bottle of wine, to refill his drink. He definitely, definitely needed it. If Xanxus bitches about me having a hangover tomorrow I will just laugh in his face because at least I had a fucking drink and he didn't.

"Impressive, isn't he? He might not be very smart when it comes to his bookwork in school, but, well, I suppose he really takes after his mother that way. His body is well trained, gifted even. He just had to find the thing that he was made for." Tsuyoshi sealed up the container with the fresh slices and pulled over an empty one. He continued to work, filling that one as well.

Squalo ran a hand over his face. "Last year," he muttered to himself. He had thought the boy trained at least since he was eight in the stances and forms, if not the actual blade until he was older. If Takeshi were taught different techniques, for example, any of the dozens that Squalo knew…

"He would be untouchable."

"What was that?" Tsuyoshi paused, glancing over his shoulder.

Squalo blinked. He met the man's gaze and then looked away again. "Have you taught him everything you know about the sword?"

A longer pause and then, "Yes."

"I could teach him more." He wanted to teach him more. Needed to. His knowledge plus Takeshi's instinctive understanding? He was young- He had so much room to grow, to become something incredible, something that Squalo could only see the barest edge of right now.

He looked down at the glass in his hand. The wine was light, he noticed for the first time. Not red like blood as he had expected or even a simple white. It was pink. Sweet. He could barely taste it as he drank it, though, his mouth filled with the savor of his thoughts. "With the proper guidance and motivation, he could become completely unreachable in battle."

Tsuyoshi set down his knife with a noticeable thunk. He wiped his hands off again, slowly, the residue of blood adding more color to the otherwise white cloth. He turned to face Squalo properly, leaning against the counter. "You will not make my son into something he is not."

The sweetness of his discovery soured at those words. Squalo scowled at him. "I'm not going to force him into anything. But I've seen the way he holds his sword, Tsuyoshi. I've seen the way his face looks in the middle of a duel. I'll offer and he will accept."

"Tch," Tsuyoshi frowned back at him, "You are like Reborn. You only see the half of him that is hungry for steel and blood and adrenaline. You are blind to who my son really is."

"He likes baseball, cares for his friends and wields a sword like an extension of his own arm," Squalo said, perhaps quicker than he should have. The idea of having his own student at so young an age, and one so promising as Takeshi, was as heady as the wine he drank.

"He is still just a boy. His body may not be fragile because he is a ghoul, but his mind is still developing, still impulsive." Tsuyoshi shook his head as if Squalo simply did not understand. "You saw it fracture right in front of your eyes and still think that the best thing for him is to teach him how better to cut people apart with his sword? Will you at the same time teach him how to assuage his bloodlust when it rises in his throat? Will you also take into consideration how deeply he depends on others for attention or affection? Praise doled out in backhanded compliments and pain issued out by the handful will only land him on a roof once more-" He abruptly cut himself off, eyes closing tightly. He shook his head again and muttered, "You do not know my son. You do not know what you are going to turn him into, with talk like that. Teach him. As if someone like you could care for Takeshi properly."

"As a guardian-"

"Tsunayoshi did not win those ring battles," Tsuyoshi interrupted him. "He is not the heir to the Vongola. Takeshi may stay his friend but without that organization dragging his friend down, there is no reason for him to fall down that hole." He turned back to his work. His movements were quick, sharp, as he packaged the last of the slices and put them into the fridge.

"He's good. He's already amazing with the sword. I'll just teach him how to use it even better, so that no one-"

"Being untouchable is fine for an assassin." Tsuyoshi interrupted gain. Squalo bit the inside of his cheek not to snap at the man, but only because he was washing the knife now, actions clearly automatic. "Being untouchable will drive my son to suicide again."

"Wh-" Squalo is momentarily speechless. His mind throws memories to the forefront like reels of tape projected onto a screen and he sees Takeshi's grief stricken expression, mouth open in his violent threats, tears pouring down his cheeks and his features contorted in abject pain. On the one hand, both he and the other guardians had reacted violently. On the other hand… "Drive him to suicide?" He repeated.

Tsuyoshi sighed. He rested his hand on the counter, leaning his weight into it. It was if he aged a decade with that sigh alone, the lines on his face deepening as he spoke. "He is doing much better now that he has Tsunayoshi in his life as a friend, but for a while… There was only baseball. Not even a Hunt got him as worked up as that game did. And he was good, incredibly good, at playing.

"He was always better than the other boys on his team, but then they began to get better and pressure was put on him to succeed. Not necessarily from the other boys but from their coach and the captain. He had to do twice as well as the next best student if he were to get even a tenth of the praise. Baseball was the only thing that mattered to him. And then… during a Hunt…" The man closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged. "His arm was shattered. Even for a ghoul that takes time to heal properly. He was benched the whole time, couldn't practice, wasn't included. It was as if… As if my son were a paper lantern and someone had blown out the flame within him. Takeshi was a shell…"

He stood silently for a while, fingers curled over the side of the counter, his face turned slightly away. Squalo drained his cup and when he could manage it, he asked, "Why are you telling me this? I know he thinks that we're… whatever we are, but isn't this rather… personal?"

"Takeshi will never say a thing," Tsuyoshi said. "When he dies, I suspect it will be with a smile, his last words being 'no, really, it's nothing serious'." He looked up at Squalo, his dark eyes as hard as stone. "He is so much like his mother that he buries his pain until even he cannot sense it anymore. And then, all at once, he'll be at the end of his rope and without anyone to catch his hand, he will die. She walked into traffic. He nearly stepped off a roof. He may look like me, but he is his mother's son in all the ways that really matter."

The words settle uncomfortably around Squalo. He can't imagine a ghoul being so despondent- so human- as to do such a thing.

But if he were to think of Takeshi as a typical teenager…

"So you're saying," Squalo said, carefully, "That if I want to teach Takeshi how to master the blade, to really master the sword, I have to, what, be there to catch him if he falls again?"

"When," the man said, quiet but insistent. "When he falls again."

Squalo's hand tightens on the glass. He looks at it, at the pool of wine at the bottom, just a few drops really. His mouth feels dry yet again. Drink as much as he likes, it never gets any moisture in it.

The thought of Takeshi's eyes, devoid of life (such an easy thing to imagine, considering how many times he has seen it in his profession), turns Squalo's stomach.

His expression must shift because Tsuyoshi suddenly pushes off the counter, speaking as he crosses the room. "Date him as long as you like, but do not consider teaching him if you are not prepared to be responsible for the consequences of your actions. You are too experienced to be so reckless. I will not tolerate it." He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and added, "When you return to your room, please turn off the light. Goodnight, Superbi."

Squalo makes a sound in reply, instinctively saying goodnight even as the warning prickles his skin. He reaches up with one hand, pouring another glass.

The counters are cleaned again. The radio turned off. Squalo finishes the bottle by himself, in silence, and then goes to his provided room in the darkness.

As he passes Takeshi's room, Squalo stops and listens to the sound of him breathing, snoring softly and wonders.

His right hand has already been given away to Xanxus. His left he gave to his mastery of the sword and the defeat of Tyr. With both hands full… how could he agree to keep one open to catch Takeshi if he should fall?

His fingertips brush the wood and then, resolutely, he continues on to his room to finally get some sleep and get foolish thoughts from his mind.

I will simply prevent him from running out of rope to keep him from ever falling at all. If that is what I can do, all I can do, I will do it for him.

Xanxus woke to near-darkness, in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. His hand was under the pillow in seconds, curling around his gun, but stopped when his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The room was barely illuminated by a small blueish nightlight in the corner. He hadn't noticed it until he was in bed and by then hadn't given enough of a shit to get up and unplug it.

Someone was walking towards the bed. The blue light caught on pale skin and silver hair and- That was the kid from before at the table. He walked up to the bed and Xanxus could see he had only one eye open, and that one barely halfway. Letting go of his gun, Xanxus pushed himself up onto an elbow. "What the fuck are you doing here? Go sleep on the couch."

The boy muttered something and climbed onto the bed. Xanxus reached up to shove him off when he finally caught what was being said.

"...Sorry Tenth… Sorry Tsuna… but the...the nightmares…" Gokudera sat on the bed, his hands covering his eyes and forehead, his fingers tangled in his bangs. He was half curled over, shaking and mumbling apologies.

"Fuck," Xanxus grunted. What is the deal with silver haired fuckers and their goddamn nightmares? Fucking Squalo better at least get some goddamn sleep tonight. He reached out and put his arm around the teen's shoulders. "Kid, lay down."

"Sorry," Gokudera repeated, but he obeyed. Xanxus pulled back the covers and settled him on the bed. He ran his hand over his own face and then, sighing, lay back down. The bed was way too small to fit the two of them comfortably, but what was done was done. He tucked his arm under the pillow, and rolled his eyes when he felt Gokudera's head rest on his shoulder.

His hair, similar in color to Squalo's was a completely different texture. Squalo probably takes better care of his, Xanxus thought as Gokudera curled up at his side. Who the fuck knows what gunpowder does to hair.

"Sorry," Gokudera said again, his breath stirring against Xanxus's collarbone.

"Shut up and go to sleep," Xanxus muttered.

Thankfully, there wasn't any protest to that, just the sound of breathing. As Gokudera's breath evened out into proper sleep, Xanxus let himself relax enough to fall back asleep again. When was the last time I just slept with someone in the same bed? Xanxus wondered as he, too, began to nod off. Must have been a couple of years at least… Damn brat… Damn nightmares…

What a fucked up situation…

NEXT TIME: we go to the hospital. at last!