OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Kenshibu: a Japanese interpretive dance performed to traditional music with fans.
Masami was convinced that Tsunayoshi was a magnet attracting all of the suicidal herbivores to him as she snapped orders into her phone while keeping an eye on Yamamoto Takeshi, the idiot playing with death on the school rooftop.
Although she had shared at least one class with the baseball star for the past four or so years, Masami wasn't well acquainted with Takeshi. Granted, she was aware that he was popular, friendly, talented, and the male equivalent of Kyoko's social status in the school, but other than that, she'd paid little attention to him.
There was no reason to, not until he'd apparently decided that breaking an arm and losing his valued sport for less than three months was a valid cause for suicide.
She should have, she thought. She should have noticed his smiles growing duller, his eyes sharpening ever more, his mask slipping away. Because, now with Tsunayoshi attempting to pull Takeshi away from the edge, Masami could look back and see the signs staring her in the face, but it was much too late.
Honestly, of all the days for Hayato to be off restocking his bombs. Why, oh why, did her classmates insist on throwing their lives away? It boggled the mind. It was irritating.
(Past the aggravation and concern, some part of Masami could, perhaps, sympathize just a bit. For Takeshi, being deprived of baseball was akin to Masami being trapped in a cage or Kyoya laying his weapons to rest for good. Unspeakable, unbearable, unendurable. But suicide still wasn't something she could approve of.)
"The preparations are completed, correct?" A death in Namimori Middle was repugnant.
Thankfully, her brother agreed, if disdainfully. "Correct. The herbivore isn't retreating?"
"Sawada-san's working on it." If nothing else, Tsunayoshi could be incredibly charismatic when the situation called for it and was well able to talk fools from falling over that final edge.
An amused snort. "The omnivore has become a herbivore therapist?"
She smiled vaguely, eyes still glued to the spectacle of Takeshi and Tsunayoshi shouting at each other. "Something like that."
And then the fence broke.
Masami almost crushed her phone by accident, even though she knew full well no one was going to die today.
Takeshi hadn't meant to. Sure, he had been all ready to die for the sake of baseball, for losing the core of who he was, for failing at the one thing he was meant to succeed at, but he hadn't meant for things to end up like this.
Because, Tsuna, Dame-Tsuna, had come around and thrown all of that out the window, and Takeshi had no idea how that had happened. He had never paid much attention to Sawada before, at first because he was just that no-good boy hiding in the corner, no different from anyone else, and then suddenly he was off-limits because Hibari Masami.
Yeah, that was interesting on some level, because while Takeshi was one of the few people in the entire school to have the privilege of saying that he had little to no experiences with the Hibari siblings, anyone with eyes, ears, and half a brain in their skull knew of The Hibari Kyoya's younger sister, the so-called angelic Masami.
Personally, he'd always had his doubts about whether anyone could be such a messiah of grace and purity but had let it go because it wasn't any of his business. He just kept to his baseball, after all, and it wasn't like she was insanely infamous like her older brother.
Just...lots of rumors and conjectures. Which was fine, but after Hibari and Tsuna had become friends, the other boy had turned into even more of a recluse. Before, there had been bullying and teasing, but later, there had just been a sort of determination to pretend he didn't exist, and then Takeshi had been distracted by baseball.
He had always been distracted by baseball, up until recently, when he couldn't be anymore.
Tsuna had been becoming fascinating these past few weeks, though. First, there was that cool fight with Mochida, and then there was that thing at the Volleyball Tournament, and more recently, there was that odd, sort of idol-like friendship between Tsuna and Gokudera.
Sadly, he was still somewhat bad at sports, so Takeshi hadn't hesitated to invite Tsuna over to his team when everyone else dithered. Apparently, Hibari had been accepted into the Disciplinary Committee and was even more terrifying than before because now she could now tattle directly to her brother.
After that, asking Tsuna for advice had come easily. The shorter boy had blinked up at him with those wide, brown eyes, and said, clearly hesitant, "Well, err, I normally just do my best and hope things will work out, you know? Plus, Masami-san, and, umm, Gokudera-kun, are always around when I need help, so..."
Takeshi had nodded and smiled—just like always, just like normal—and then he had gone and broken his arm.
Standing at the edge of the rooftop hadn't been so hard, not nearly as terrible as the abandonment of everything he'd been since his mom's death. The guys who had come to watch (like he was an animal at the zoo, like this was only another game, and maybe it was) had been white noise, all until Tsuna had burst in again, bright and warm like flame.
And he had been so obviously petrified, but Tsuna had reached out and tried, tried to help, saying things like he had always respected Takeshi, and his life wasn't worth this, and please, please don't jump because Takeshi was Takeshi, and no one could replace him—
Takeshi had been reaching back, because even he couldn't deny the sincerity in Tsuna's voice, and his hand had latched onto Tsuna's, and the fence had broken.
All of this swept through Takeshi's mind in a split second as gravity took hold, and he tipped off of the rooftop, unwittingly dragging Tsuna along with him. He was falling, they were falling, and Takeshi hadn't meant to do this at all. He didn't want to die now, and even if he'd had before, he'd never wanted to take Tsuna with him.
"I'm so sor—" he tried to say, meeting his savior and his victim's terrified gaze with his own, as heartfelt and as steady as he could make it, but then there was a sudden snap and something soft and unyielding caught him along the back.
They bounced once, twice, and abruptly, they weren't falling anymore.
Takeshi furrowed his brow, confused and disorientated and somewhat in pain, but Tsuna was already gasping and rolling away, staring wide-eyed at the...mesh beneath his hands? Takeshi wasn't an expert or anything, but he was pretty sure Namimori Middle hadn't invested in a volleyball net this big before.
A glance up above showed that the roof, while distant, wasn't as far away as it should be, and a glance below showed that the ground was still quite a ways below them.
They were dangling in midair, held up solely by a lattice set up on the third floor of the school building.
"Sawada!"
"Hiee? Kusakabe-san!?" Tsuna called out, head snapping left, where the older prefect stood by the window, holding onto one of the ropes to the net. The ropes to the right were tied to nearby trees, while the remaining ropes had been distributed to other prefects along the third floor classrooms with the correctly positioned windows.
"You're uninjured?" Kusakabe asked.
"Ah...y-yeah." Tsuna cast a quick, searching look at Takeshi. "Yamamoto's okay, too."
Takeshi watched their classmates on the roof peer down at them carefully. He considered things from their point of view, realized that everything probably looked like a giant spider web from above, and found himself laughing. "Whew! That was a close one!" he said, smiling because this was something he knew how to do.
"Yes, it was," a new, feminine voice agreed while Tsuna was busy looking flabbergasted. "Which is why I'd very much appreciate it if you and Sawada-san would relocate to a more...stable position."
"Masami-san!" Tsuna cried, but Takeshi didn't need the identification. The elegantly dressed girl leaning out of the window beside Kusakabe with burning eyes and a lethal smile could honestly be no one else.
Distantly, he thought that, okay, maybe there was some truth to those rumors after all.
A good amount of slowly inching along the net to an open window later, Takeshi was seated on a nice black sofa with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. Tsuna was sitting next to him, an apologetic smile on his lips, but a relaxed line to his shoulders that said he was comfortable here, which was good enough for Takeshi.
"So, what is this place?" Takeshi asked, looking around curiously. It was pretty nice, actually, for a random room that Hibari had led them to, her mere presence dissuading any questions or protests in the hallways. There were even fresh flowers on the tables and everything.
Pretty expensive, if anyone asked him.
"This is the Reception Room," Hibari said evenly, moving to sit on the swivel chair behind the heavy oak desk with truly incredible amounts of paperwork. She took a moment to straighten up the desk before crossing her legs and pinning a steely gaze on them both.
To Takeshi's right, Tsuna went a bit pale. Takeshi couldn't exactly blame him, not that he would in the first place, seeing as those eyes were scary.
"I," she started, clasping her hands in front of her, "would appreciate an explanation."
"I'll do it," Takeshi cut in before Tsuna could say anything because this mess should be laid solely at his feet. Tsuna frowned but didn't interrupt as Takeshi recounted the whole thing, skipping all the personal parts but still giving Hibari the gist of what had happened.
When Takeshi was done, he paused and added, "Like I said, it's all my fault. I was really stupid. If Tsuna wasn't there, I would be dead. Sorry for all of the trouble I caused!" He bowed, careful to keep the tea in the cup. It wouldn't do for the hot liquid to spray over Tsuna.
When Takeshi was looking back at Hibari again, there was a thoughtful element to her frown, but he got the feeling that she wasn't very happy nonetheless. "There will be consequences," she said at last, "for disrupting the peace. As there should be."
That...didn't sound very good, but hey, at least she wasn't angry! Strangely enough, he was pretty sure that he wouldn't want to play with her when she was angry.
Tsuna gulped audibly. "W-What is it?"
Hibari just looked at him for a beat.
Tsuna cringed back. "Sorry, Masami-san."
Takeshi was lost. What had Tsuna done?
"I disapprove of uncertainty, Yamamoto-san," she explained, catching his confusion easily. "And as for the punishment..."
They both leaned forward in dreaded anticipation, the tension in the room rising swiftly.
"First, I expect Yamamoto Tsuyoshi to be informed of this incident within the day," Hibari said, ignoring how Takeshi frowned despite himself. "Yamamoto-san will also be suspended from playing baseball for eight weeks."
What!? Takeshi clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, the first instinctive denial blanking out everything else for a moment. His hands flexed, but—oh. His broken arm would take at least six or seven weeks to heal, so that was really just...
Takeshi grinned. "Thanks a lot, Hibari." For the stupid stunt he had pulled, she had let him off really easy. Pretty nice, in his opinion, considering her reputation. "I'll tell my dad myself, I promise."
Hibari inclined her head in majestic acknowledgment. "Please, call me Masami."
Takeshi laughed. "Sure thing, Masami!" In the corner of his eye, he saw Tsuna smile brightly, warm and happy, and it made Takeshi smile in return. Things had really turned out well this time around, huh?
"As for the second part of the punishment..." Without missing a beat, Masami smiled innocently and gestured to the piles of papers littering the desk. "I'm sure it won't take long for this paperwork to be completed."
"Hieeeee!?"
Somehow, Masami was back in that annoying part of town again, knocking on Hayato's door. She sighed inwardly and wasn't at all surprised when the door was slammed open to reveal a dark scowl.
Truly, did this boy have no manners at all?
"What the hell are you doing here, maiko witch!?" Hayato snapped, emerald eyes brimming with mistrust and hostility. He glared at her, the rudeness almost shocking.
Masami merely spread her fan open and brought it before her face, drawing on her impressive reserves of patience. She didn't say a word.
Hayato scowled even harder before something seemed to occur to him and he panicked. Loudly. "Is it Juudaime!? What happened!? Is Juudaime alright!? Spit it out already!"
He always had the most interesting reactions, she thought absently. "Sawada-san fell from the school rooftop today," she revealed and waited for the fireworks to start.
The drain of blood from Hayato's face was almost worrying. He even wavered on his feet, like he couldn't keep himself upright. "What!? Juudaime fell from the rooftop!? While I wasn't there!? Juudaime, I'm so sorry, I've failed as your Right-Hand Man! I'm not worthy! Oi, maiko witch, is Juudaime alright!? Tell me!"
Masami couldn't help but twitch when he grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her. Kyoya was hardly one for physical gestures, and Tsunayoshi was much too in awe of her to touch her so casually. It took honest to God effort to keep from going with her first instinct when faced with the unwelcome contact, which was to throw him down the stairs.
"Gokudera-san, please. Stop that," she stated, taking a step back and holding her fan between them as a barrier. "Sawada-san is quite alright. He's at the school right now."
The words had barely left her mouth before Hayato took off, leaving a literal trail of dust behind him. "Juudaime! I'm coming!" he shouted as he ran to the school, almost getting run over during the process.
Masami stared after him. "Maybe I could have broken the news to him a bit gentler," she mused to herself, closing and locking his door for him. Then again— "My paperwork needs to look at least somewhat intelligent."
Even if she was quite good at it, all of the papers piling up on her desk made her uneasy for some reason, enough for her to make the decision to start dishing out mandatory work as part of detention. And if nothing else, Gokudera Hayato was very smart.
If a bit blindsided when the matter of Sawada Tsunayoshi came up.
"Masami."
"Yes, Onii-san?"
"What happened to the paperwork?"
"It was taken care of."
"...I see. Dinner?"
"Gyoza. And then dango."
"Hn."
Masami never bothered to go back and chaperone the boys, so she missed out on Hayato and Takeshi's first meeting. It didn't matter. She picked up on the animosity easily the first time she reluctantly detached herself from her duties to have lunch with Tsunayoshi again.
Then again, even the deaf, blind, and dumb would have been able to detect the rivalry humming in the air.
"Greetings."
"Yo, Masami!" Takeshi grinned at her, lifting a hand in greeting.
"You're here again, maiko witch?" Hayato scowled.
"Hahaha, what a weird nickname. I guess it fits though."
"Shut up, baseball idiot! No one asked you!"
"Masami-san!" Tsunayoshi beamed, so very open in his happiness that Masami wondered if Reborn would ever be able to teach this boy not to wear his heart on his sleeve. "You're free today?"
"Hai." Masami settled down a few meters away from the squabbling boys and sipped at her tea. "There's a test in English tomorrow. Are you adequately prepared?"
Tsunayoshi smiled tentatively. "Yeah. I think so."
"Juudaime's perfect!" Hayato shot back less than half a second later. "Don't you dare belittle him!"
"Gokudera-kun, it's okay, Masami-san's just concerned about my grades..." Tsunayoshi squirmed in place.
"As she should be," Reborn said approvingly, appearing out of a hiding place in the wall—Masami made a note to investigate the school for any further changes the hitman had introduced—in a teacher outfit, complete with glasses and a pointer. "Your pronunciation is a disgrace to the Vongola."
"Hiieee! I told you, Reborn, I'm not going to become a Mafia Boss!"
"You're part of the mafia game, too?" Takeshi laughed, entirely unperturbed. "That's great! Did the kid make you go through the entrance test? How did you do?"
"Entrance Test?" Masami repeated slowly.
"Don't worry, all of the damage was repaired," Reborn said, which wasn't reassuring at all. "There was no need to put Masami through the Entrance Test, Yamamoto. She's not in the famiglia yet." He shot a pointed look at Tsunayoshi, who frowned.
"Reborn-san!" Hayato protested loudly, glaring venomously at Masami, which had no effect on said girl whatsoever. "You want the maiko witch to join Juudaime's famiglia!?"
"She's powerful," was Reborn's justification.
Hayato spluttered.
"...Sawada-san, perhaps we should review your English," Masami suggested, making the executive decision to ignore the ranting bomber.
Tsunayoshi spluttered.
Quizzing Tsunayoshi while Hayato and Takeshi made nuisances of themselves in the background wasn't so difficult, even if it did give her a headache. Every now and then, Masami reminisced wistfully of the peaceful quiet of her elementary school days, when it was just her, her brother, and their sole friend.
Juggling all of these boys, while not entirely unwelcome, was taxing on her patience and energy.
Still, lenient or not, she drew the line when the dynamite came out again.
"A Sky can have six different Guardians: Storm, Rain, Lightning, Cloud, Sun, and Mist."
"Yes."
"Skies are incredibly rare, and they naturally draw in other Flames for Harmonization. Generally, Skies only feel complete when they have a full set of Elements, and vice versa. Characteristically, they are highly charismatic and influential."
"Correct."
"Do the Flames develop because of personality, or does personality develop because of Flame?"
"You would be better off asking a philosopher or a scientist that question. However, I can tell you that what few characteristics many people believe are associated with Flames are rather general, much like your zodiac sign, for example."
"So they're a guideline, not a psychoanalysis. There are deviations, based on gender, environmental factors, surrounding individuals, unique circumstances, etcetera, etcetera."
"That's right. In addition, as people become more Flame Active, the general character traits of their Flame become stronger. Physical age is also a big factor. This is why Mafioso train their children; the younger they are, the easier they are to mold."
"So...as Sawada-san continues to mature and develop his Sky Flame, he'll become more...Sky-like."
"Yes."
She sighed.
"Hey, Masami!" Takeshi poked his head into the Reception Room with a bright grin. "Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?"
There was a beat while Yachi, Arishima, and Odaka exchanged glances and collectively decided to return to trying to destroy the paperwork—sadly, it was never-ending—through the power of their glares alone.
It didn't seem to be working very well.
"Yamamoto-san." Masami looked up from the filing cabinet with an unruffled smile, automatically breathing through the tight ball of tension in her chest before it could manifest visibly. Four hours of continuous working didn't seem to be doing anything for her mood. "Is there something you need?"
"Nah," he said with an easy laugh. "We—me, Tsuna, and Gokudera, I mean—were going to go eat at my dad's place, TakeSushi. Do you want to come?"
Masami considered. It wasn't the first time she had been invited along on one of their excursions, though she had politely rejected most of their offers before, courtesy of the ever-increasing amount of work on her plate and her own desire to stay away from the noise and chaos that surrounded the trio. As for today...
On one hand, there was duty and obligation and paperwork. On the other hand, there was conversation and herbivores and anarchy. The former would only continue to grow if she neglected it now. The latter could probably level the whole town by accident. Which was the lesser of the two evils?
Arishima groaned and there was a distinct thunk that indicated he had just dropped his head down onto his stack of paperwork, conveniently reminding her that Kyoya was out patrolling and the prefects were looking to her for instruction now.
With the herbivores it was.
"I believe I will," Masami decided, closing the cabinet. "Thank you for the invitation, Yamamoto-san." Gathering up her belongings quickly, she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked past him when he held the door open for her.
"No problem," Takeshi said, grinning. They strolled down the hallway, but before they could turn the corner, they both clearly heard the sigh of relief from behind them. Oh dear, that wouldn't do, now would it? Onii-san would be so annoyed if he came back to find his prefects lazing around.
She exhaled gradually through her nose in lieu of a sigh.
Masami smiled. "Excuse me for a moment." Ignoring Takeshi's curious glance, she turned on her heel and mimicked his earlier intrusion. "Before I forget"—all three of the prefects jumped a good meter in the air—"Yachi-san, Arishima-san, Odaka-san, three laps around the school, one hundred sit ups, and forty push ups today."
She paused. "And if you don't do it, I'll want to know why," Masami added and left again.
Takeshi was silent when she rejoined him, allowing the long, drawn-out groans of the perfects to echo down the hallway. However, when they were finally out of range, he burst into laughter. "Wow, you keep them on a tight leash, huh?"
Masami blinked guilelessly. "Your coach doesn't do the same?"
His laughter hitched slightly, and his eyes darted towards his cast, but when he looked back at her, Takeshi's eyes were clear and bright. "Yeah, sure, but not like that. He's not nearly as mean about it either."
"Yamamoto-san, I am the youngest, shortest, and lightest member of the Disciplinary Committee," she replied. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Hahaha, maybe, but I noticed you didn't say 'weakest' or 'nicest', right, Masami?"
Hmm, perceptive, she thought. Disregarding his depressive tendencies, Masami might actually enjoy talking with this herbivore. "It was implied," she said as they cleared the school doors and headed towards the gates, where Tsunayoshi and Hayato were waiting. "Greetings."
"Good afternoon, Masami-san," Tsunayoshi chirped back with a bow and a radiant smile, apparently in a fantastic mood today. Briefly, she was terribly envious. "You're coming with us?"
"I decided my paperwork could wait a few more hours, yes."
"What, slacking?" Hayato scowled at her, not that that was new. "I thought you were supposed to be some super special, all-powerful secretary or something."
"Please don't exaggerate, Gokudera-san," Masami said as Takeshi began to lead the way. "If I was truly omniscient, I would hardly have so much paperwork."
"God forbid you ever become omniscient," Hayato muttered. "We would all be doomed."
Takeshi laughed. "That's not nice at all, Gokudera!"
"Shut up, baseball idiot! God forbid you become omniscient, too!"
Masami tilted her head, but she wasn't looking at the arguing duo. Sandwiched between the two, Tsunayoshi looked a tad overwhelmed, but he was grinning, his shoulders were relaxed, and his eyes seemed to glow with an inner happiness.
It didn't take a genius to see that he was much more content with how matters were nowadays.
She dropped back just a bit and hid her smile behind her fan. Her gaze drifted towards the horizon, where the sun was sinking and the sky was brilliant crimson, and she couldn't help but think that this silly boy wouldn't need her much longer.
"Onii-san, I don't suppose you'd be interested in Flames?" Masami brought up one night over dinner.
Kyoya glanced up from his bowl. "Flames," he repeated blankly.
She smiled. "Flames. Sawada-san's forehead lights up with an orange fire when he's shot by Reborn-san's bullet. That sort of Flame."
He chewed slowly on his udon and swallowed. "Did Otou-san tell you this?"
"Hai."
"So it's Mafia," Kyoya summarized.
"Mmm, yes."
He thought about it. "Can it be used as a weapon?"
Masami laughed lowly. "It's a Flame, Onii-san."
"Humph." He covered a yawn with his hand and finished the rest of his bowl before saying, "Tell me more."
She smiled demurely.
It was raining.
Masami snapped her umbrella open and stepped outside of the protection of the school roof hesitantly. Instantly, the sound of raindrops hitting the black fabric sang through the air and vibrated down the metal to make her hand shake.
She sighed, but a small smile quirked her lips. It smelled of fresh beginnings and cool ozone, and suddenly, it was so much easier to breathe. While she missed the thunder and lightning of a true storm, this was...nice. Summer showers were invigorating, in their own way.
Masami began the long trek back home, carefully avoiding the puddles already accumulated on the road. There was no one but her around, which made sense, seeing as how it was around eight and the rain had started an hour ago. It was rare for Namimori to receive such heavy downpour, and most of the citizens had already dashed away for cover.
Onii-san was already back home, seeing as she had been held up by the paperwork. God only knew where her boys were. Her neck ached, but her shoulders relaxed and her steps slowed.
The only sound in the streets was the clack of her boots on the wet concrete and the soothing sound of rainfall.
With the flood of water, the constant smog in the air and the dust on the buildings were being washed away. She hummed quietly to herself, occasionally bracing the umbrella against brief gusts of wind. Her bag was already damp, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
"Oi, Masami, is that you?"
Halting, she turned at the familiar voice. Standing near the supermarket's entrance, Takeshi grinned sheepishly at her, arm laden with plastic bags full of produce. He didn't have an umbrella, but with his bad arm, it wouldn't have mattered anyhow.
Masami breathed out a sigh, reining in the initial flash of irritation—her peace was going to be disturbed, it seemed, whether she liked it or not—and moved to greet her classmate. "Greetings, Yamamoto-san. Would you appreciate some assistance?"
He laughed. "Yeah, sorry. My dad wanted me to get some fish, but, well, the rain was a bit of a surprise. Mind giving me a trip back to the restaurant?"
"Of course not. Here, I'll take care of this." She took his bags from him and handed him her umbrella. "You're taller than I am."
"Huh." Takeshi glanced between them, somehow only seeming to notice now that he was 178 cm to her current 157. For God's sake, she was shorter than Tsunayoshi without the boots. "Yeah, I guess I am."
She smiled and pretended she wasn't mildly annoyed. "There's a science test tomorrow, Yamamoto-san. Are you prepared?"
He laughed cheerfully as they began to walk, carefully trying to keep in-step with each other. "Nope," he said, popping the p. "Are you?"
"Yes," Masami said in a pointed 'of course' tone. But—"I do hope you realize your grade is borderline in that class?" It was like Tsunayoshi Take Two.
"How do you even know that?"
"Disciplinary Committee."
Takeshi sweatdropped. "Man...Hibari's pretty powerful, huh?"
She looked at him sideways slyly. "Did Sawada-san and Gokudera-san ever tell you about the time we indirectly fired Nezu-sensei?"
He spluttered for a second, golden brown eyes lighting up with interest not long later. "No, how did that happen?"
By the time they were standing in front of the doors of TakeSushi, Takeshi was laughing helplessly, almost getting them both soaked when the umbrella wavered. "This Mafia Game is really fun, isn't it?" he said, gasping for breath.
"That's one way to look at it," she agreed as the doors slid open.
Yamamoto Tsuyoshi greeted them with a relieved grin and a towel in his hands. "Takeshi, there you are! I was getting worried."
"Sorry, dad," Takeshi apologized. "Hey, you've met Masami before. She let me borrow her umbrella."
"I can see that." Tsuyoshi turned to Masami with a kind smile. "Thank you for looking after my son, Masami-chan. Here, let me take that...and please wait here for a second." He grabbed the plastic bags and hurried back inside the restaurant, leaving her with the towel.
Masami looked down at the pale blue cloth and then at Takeshi. "Shall we switch?"
He laughed and obligingly offered her the umbrella, the two of them shielded from the rain by the eaves. "I guess it's not really necessary now, but..." He shrugged and rubbed the towel through his hair.
Tsuyoshi walked back out with a large wooden dragon-shaped container in his hands, the sushi inside placed both tastefully and artfully. "Please take this as a sign of our gratitude," he said, extending the gift to her.
Masami blinked, momentarily startled, but quickly recovered with a slightly warmer smile than usual. "Thank you very much."
When she got back home at last, she wasn't particularly surprised to discover the sushi was delicious. She decided to keep the wooden dragon as a decoration; it really was quite ornamental.
In hindsight, Masami really should have anticipated this.
But for some reason, when she opened her front door and found Tsunayoshi, Hayato, Reborn, and Takeshi standing outside, she was entirely unprepared.
Appropriately, Tsunayoshi was staring at her with yet another deer-in-headlights look, Hayato was glaring sullenly at her, Reborn was smiling with childish glee, and Takeshi looked entirely oblivious.
Inwardly, she grimaced, entirely unenthusiastic. A headache began pounding at her temples. This honestly wasn't something she wanted to deal with on one of her few days off. Outwardly, she bowed elegantly, tone coming out even, if dry, "Greetings."
"Ciaossu, Masami." Reborn was decked out in a samurai outfit today, boosting a kabuto that looked far too heavy for a baby.
"S-Sorry about this, Masami-san," Tsunayoshi said with a nervous smile, bowing back. He was already fidgeting in place as if psyching himself up for a dreadful biting.
"Just get on with it, maiko witch." Hayato scowled and sent dark looks at Takeshi from the corner of his eyes. It would be wonderful if he could ever tone down the aggression, but she wasn't holding her breath.
Takeshi didn't even seem to notice. That took true skill. "Yo, Masami! Wow, is this your house? It looks really cool!"
"It is, and thank you." Masami turned around, throwing over her shoulder, "Shoes off, please. Sawada-san, Onii-san's in a mood." Tsunayoshi went four shades paler. "Gokudera-san, cigarettes and dynamite are not permitted." Even without looking, she could feel the weight of Hayato's glare. "Yamamoto-san, welcome to the Hibari household."
"Hahaha, thanks!" Takeshi looked around curiously, carefully keeping his bad arm tucked to his side. "Hey, you guys are pretty traditional. My dad's like that, too, sometimes."
"We are a very traditional family," Masami agreed, stopping and turning in front of the training room. "Sawada-san, Onii-san's waiting for you."
Hayato sulked openly. "Juudaime, remember, you absolutely don't have to do this if you don't want to!"
"Eeh?" Takeshi scratched his head, confused. "The kid said that you and Hibari were going to be playing a game. Is it dangerous?"
"Reborn!" Tsunayoshi complained, but Reborn just kicked him in the back, sending him flying through the door Masami conveniently opened at the right moment. "Hiiieeeee!"
"Herbivore, quie—" they heard Kyoya snap before Masami closed the door with a firm click.
Masami snapped open her fan and considered the two boys over it. "Yamamoto-san, do you know how to fight?" she asked, because this was a difference between life-or-death in the world they were dabbling in. And, like Tsunayoshi, looking after the boy would be less of a hassle if he knew how to defend himself.
Takeshi looked blank. "No, not really?"
"Good idea, Masami," Reborn remarked. "Yamamoto, knowing how to fight is a special skill in the mafia game. You won't be able to win without it."
"Oh, really?" Despite his easy words, a spark of competitiveness lit up in his eyes immediately and there was an edge to his smile. "Guess I better learn quickly, huh?"
"You idiot, it's not that simple!" Hayato flared up, though his eyes never left the evil double doors currently blocking the sight of his precious Tenth from him.
"Excellent," Masami said, ignoring Hayato's outburst. "Right this way, please. Gokudera-san and I will be happy to teach you the basics."
Hayato's eye twitched. "Wait, what!? Don't go deciding things for me, maiko witch!"
"If Yamamoto isn't strong, then Tsuna's going to get hurt," Reborn said.
"Just you wait, baseball idiot! I'm going to make you the second best subordinate Juudaime will ever have!" Hayato declared passionately, eyes seeming to light up from the inside with the flames of his conviction.
"Hahaha, then who's the best?" Takeshi asked.
"Me, of course!"
"Nah, I think you switched the two."
"What did you say, baseball idiot!?
"He's a natural-born hitman," Reborn said to Masami, who was leading the two arguing herbivores to the second sparring room. "Just like you."
She hummed noncommittally. "And you?"
"Of course." Reborn smiled. "So you should know exactly how to train him."
Masami narrowed her eyes when Tsunayoshi burst into her office late one afternoon after school, babbling about bubble gum and pizza and bicycles. What in the world? Just how much trouble could one person get into?
"Sawada-san," she cut in smoothly and watched while he broke off mid-word and gasped for breath. "Please turn around, leave my office, remember your manners, and knock."
He gaped at her, blatantly disbelieving. "But Masami-san—"
"Now. If you wouldn't mind." She didn't relent, already plenty tired from fighting her migraine.
Tsunayoshi's shoulders slumped, but he obediently turned and left, closing the door behind him. Half a second later, there was a polite knock.
Masami smiled calmly, and if there was a measure of vindictiveness in there, then no one was around to comment. "Come in."
Tsunayoshi opened the door and stepped into the room meekly, bowing. "Hello, Masami-san."
She nodded. "Greetings, Sawada-san. Much better. Now, what would the problem be?"
He went paper-white in two seconds flat, gripping desperately at his hair. It was almost impressive. "There'sanItalianhitmanouttokillme!"
She blinked. Paused. "...slower, if you would."
Tsunayoshi took a deep breath. "There's an Italian hitman out to kill me!"
"I fail to see how that's new," Masami replied without batting an eyelid, signing a form and setting it in the 'done' pile. "If I recall correctly, the same criteria fits for Gokudera-san and Reborn-san, in a way."
He made a face at her, throwing himself down, face-first, on a nearby sofa. "Not like that, Masami-san! Bianchi really, really wants to kill me! And it's because of Reborn this time, too!"
"How so?" she asked dutifully, continuing to go through her paperwork. Her boot tapped restlessly on the floor in time with the slow violin music being played from the small black radio in the corner.
"Apparently, Bianchi is Reborn's fourth lover. Lover! Does he even know what that word means!? I mean—" Tsunayoshi fumbled his words, gesturing violently with his hands. "Reborn's a baby!"
He's an Arcobaleno, she thought to herself, but said nothing. It wasn't her secret to tell. "And she wants to kill you because...?" Masami rather thought that Tsunayoshi, trouble or not, was a relatively likable boy, very much a Sky when it came down to it.
Not that it appeared to be helping him at the moment. "Because she got this idea that I was chaining Reborn down or something and only killing me will free him!" Tsunayoshi wailed, burying his face into a pillow.
She paused in her work to flick an incredulous look at her classmate. Upon seeing that he was entirely serious, Masami sighed and wondered how someone could be so dense. "Sawada-san, do try and think things through for once."
He lifted his head up to pout at her, disgruntled and as adorable as a small fluffy bunny. She hid her amusement expertly. "What does that mean, Masami-san?"
"It means to stop and think," she scolded lightly, signing off another request and flexing her fingers. "From the sounds of it, this Bianchi-san is a seasoned, professional hitmen, yes?"
"Yeah..." Tsunayoshi trailed off, head tilted.
Masami raised an eyebrow. "For one, if a true hitmen attempted to kill you, Sawada-san, you would be dead." She ignored the small "hieeee!" this prompted. "For two, I highly doubt your tutor would actually allow you to be killed. For three, you're going to ruin that pillow soon."
He made a face at the last part but put the pillow he had been clutching to death down. "I'm not so sure about the Reborn protecting me part. Have you been paying attention to what Reborn's been making me doing, Masami-san!? He's going to kill me himself! Bianchi isn't going to have to do anything!"
"Your death would result in him failing his mission," she pointed out. "And Reborn-san doesn't strike me as someone who tolerates failure."
"Hieee! That's a terrible reason!" Tsunayoshi protested, looking absolutely horrified.
Masami merely smiled and shrugged. Her foot continued to tap gently.
"Bianchi?"
"Yes." Because, regardless of what she had said to Tsunayoshi, assassins were to be treated with caution. Not everyone was protected by Reborn, and Masami was somewhat obligated to ensure her town would remain safe.
"She's the Poison Scorpion, a freelance hitmen specializing in Poison Cooking. Don't ever eat anything she offers you."
"What would her connection to Reborn-san be?"
"Poison Scorpion Bianchi has been known to take missions from the World's Greatest Hitman."
"I see. Thank you for your assistance, Okaa-san."
The first thing Masami noticed about Bianchi was that her green eyes echoed Hayato's. Which, well, could possibly explain why Hayato was in the corner, throwing up in a nearby trash can. Mafia families tended to be a bit convoluted.
"Greetings," Masami said, bowing.
Bianchi flicked a sideways look at her from over the pot of simmering liquid she was stirring. The contents were not only purple but also emanating some very dizzying odors. "Who are you?" she asked. "Decimo's girlfriend?"
"No," Masami denied smoothly as Tsunayoshi began choking on his own spit next to her. "I would be his classmate. And you're the hitman trying to kill him." Although, given Reborn's penchant for chaos, she was more of the opinion that the Poison Scorpion was here to play bodyguard, and the obsession with Reborn was a convenient cover.
"Masami-san—!" Tsunayoshi wailed at her bluntness, arms flailing.
Bianchi snorted, a wry smile curling her lips. "So I am. What are you going to do about it?"
Masami tilted her head and considered Bianchi closely. "Have you ever used botulinum toxin before?"
A spark of interest flared in the older woman's razor-sharp eyes.
"It looks like Masami likes poisons, too," Reborn commented to Tsunayoshi, sitting on the counter top with a gas mask on his face and dressed in a suit with the toxic sign on the front.
Tsunayoshi fainted. Whether that was from the vapors or the thought of Bianchi and Masami teaming up was anyone's guess. It didn't stop Hayato from pausing in his puking to yelp, "Juudaime!"
Bianchi eyed the unconscious boy and smiled, slow and lethal. "We'll talk," she said. "Personally, I like death heater better."
There was a new nurse at school.
Strange, how the old nurse had suddenly, accidentally, coincidentally caught a problematic illness and had had to be moved into a hospital far, far away from Namimori, dropping his position within five hours upon contracting.
And of course, it was a complete fluke that the new school nurse was a thirty-five-year-old pervert who liked to hit on females, refused to treat males, and was a renowned assassin who had apparently once saved Tsuna's life.
At Reborn's request.
Such a lovely, queer stroke of luck, really. She was getting rather tired of coincidences.
Masami wandered into the Nurse's Room on a Thursday, right after school. The new nurse was in his office, and so, she settled down on one of the very uncomfortable stools set out in disorderly rows to wait. There were several pamphlets free for the taking on the shelf.
Protect Yourself from STDs! one said. Wash Your Hands Correctly, another scolded. Don't Handle Your Depression Alone, the third advised. Keep Your Temper in Control, the last counseled.
Masami reached out and took five of the third and four of the last. Half a second later, the new nurse finally walked out and immediately beamed, two bright spots of color appearing on his cheeks.
"Hello, beautiful," Shamal, also known as Trident Shamal, according to her mother's contact, leered at her. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Want me to kiss it better?"
"No, and no, thank you. Welcome to Namimori Middle, Dr. Shamal." Masami smiled and rose to her feet, gripping tightly onto her fan. "I'm afraid that the Disciplinary Committee has received some complaints about you as of late."
"Maa, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," he drawled, shuffling closer to her while his eyes dipped far below her chin. "You really are quite stunning, you know. Now, about that kiss..."
She took a clear step back, smile never wavering. "Dr. Shamal, the school hired you for your capabilities in the field of medicine. If you cannot fulfill those duties, then please feel free to leave."
At that, Shamal paused at last, dark eyes sharpening as they drew back up to meet hers. "Come on, sweetheart, it can't be that bad," he coaxed, even as he leaned back, hands in his pockets.
"If you incite discomfort in the females of this school and refuse to treat the males, then there will be no need for you to remain as school nurse," Masami elaborated. "Please rethink your policies if need be and revise your behavior, or otherwise, resign."
With that, she spun on her heel, fighting the urge to slash the man's face open when he made some parting comment about her legs and how he adored strong-willed women.
It was almost as if, just for a second there, there hadn't been a flicker of lethal focus, an assassin's attention. Almost.
Well, now she supposed she knew who she was going to avoid for the rest of the school year if he actually stayed.
Before she closed the door behind her, Masami's eye caught on another stack of free pamphlets.
Give Up Smoking Today!
She ended up grabbing three of those.
"H-Hibari-san?" Tsuna squeaked. He had known immediately what Reborn was up to when he suggested using the Reception Room as their "mafia hideout," but protesting hadn't been of any use, as always.
Hibari sat on the back of a large black sofa casually, surveying the trio with apathetic gray eyes. "Omnivore," he greeted lowly. "Keep your voice down and get rid of your herd. I hate crowds."
Ignoring how Gokudera instinctively bristled on his left and Yamamoto shifted slightly on his right, Tsuna blinked and tilted his head to the side. The crowd thing wasn't new, but...he hadn't really been talking in a loud voice.
Catching sight of his confusion, Hibari scowled and shifted a fraction to the right, just enough for them to glimpse the dark-haired girl asleep on the sofa behind the prefect. Oh. Oh.
Tsuna took a step forward despite himself, eyes widening. "Masami-san?" She was sleeping beneath a thin blanket, one hand lying beside her peaceful face and black hair, still in her usual hairstyle, dramatic against the white pillow.
"What's the maiko witch doing, asleep at a time like this?" Gokudera demanded, but his voice was quieter than usual. "It's the middle of the day! What is she, a cat or something?"
"Hahaha, calm down, Gokudera." Yamamoto clasped a hand on his shoulder, to Gokudera's visible ire. Yamamoto spoke quietly, too. "Masami must be tired, yeah?"
"She's been busy dealing with the idiocy of your antics," Hibari explained carelessly. "If you herbivores wake my sister, I'll bite you to death. Leave."
Tsuna went still. Now that he thought about it, maybe Masami's smiles were a bit more strained than usual, maybe Masami had been more reserved and quiet than usual, but it was Masami so—so—
Had he really been bothering her?
(Later, when he would ask her, she would raise an eyebrow at him and inform him coolly that he was being awfully self-centered. He would sputter and protest and believe her.)
"Why, you—" Gokudera cut himself off, evidently wanting to shout but knowing better. He glared helplessly at Hibari, who looked utterly unconcerned, probably just itching to light up a dynamite stick.
As if reading his mind, Yamamoto warned, "Hey, Gokudera, don't get out your fireworks just yet, okay? You might wake up Masami, and that wouldn't be good."
"They're not fireworks, you stupid baseball freak!"
Spotting the murderous intent on Hibari's face, Tsuna winced and started to back away slowly. "Guys? Let's leave for now, alright?"
"Whatever you say, Juudaime!"
"Hahaha, alright, Tsuna!"
Disaster averted. Mostly. Hibari still ended up biting Tsuna to death during their spar later.
For the nth time that week, Hayato's damn sister was hanging around Juudaime, making more and more abominations of cooking. Naturally, Hayato had a duty as the Vongola Tenth's Right-Hand Man to protect his Boss, and unsurprisingly, he was throwing up in the corner yet again.
As it was, he was too busy fighting down the nausea to focus on anything other than the contents of his stomach forcing itself up his esophagus. In fact, he only really roused from his stupor when he was gently forced to sit down by two hands on his shoulders.
Daring to crack his eyes open, he was startled to see the clear blue sky above.
Bianchi was nowhere in sight.
Neither was... "Juudaime!" Hayato shot to his feet, but before he could take a step, his lack of balance caught up to him, and he wavered unsteadily.
"Easy," a familiar, irritating voice soothed, a hand wrapping itself around his wrist and yanking him down again. "Please. Sawada-san's just fine."
Hayato already knew who was sitting next to him on the curb of the sidewalk, but he turned his head to frown at Masami anyway. "Maiko witch, what the hell!?"
He didn't care how many people thought she was an angel; the glance she directed at him was clearly sardonic, even if her voice came out as pristine and sweet as always. "I'm sorry, would you rather I have left you back there with your sister?"
Hayato couldn't help but blanch at the thought, glaring at the amusement that twinkled in her eyes in response. "Oh, shut up," he muttered, resigning himself to the inevitable. Leaning back with a sigh, he got out a cigarette and lit it, blowing out a ring of smoke.
He didn't smoke around Juudaime, what with the risks of second-hand smoke, and he'd been trying to cut back recently, because his Boss had mentioned that it would be nice if Hayato could tone down the habit a little. The Tenth had even been kind enough to offer Hayato a brochure for quitting!
Not that Hayato would actually need it if he decided to quit, but he appreciated the gesture. No one had ever put so much personal effort into ensuring a worthless half-breed's safety, and he didn't want to disappoint his Boss.
Damned Bianchi was his exception to everything though.
Belatedly, Hayato noted Masami's disapproving stare. Which, no, he wasn't going to listen to her shitty criticism. "What? I'm not at school, I'm not at your house, we're outside! What more do you want, dammit!?"
She tilted her head, reaching up to fiddle absently with the white and purple flowers of her kanzashi. "You'll need to find a better way to light your dynamite," she said in an apparent non-sequitur.
He blinked. "What?"
"That's why you started smoking, isn't it? For a fast, convenient method to ignite your dynamite." She fanned herself absently with graceful, practiced twists of her wrist. "It's not foolproof, and it's unhealthy. Perhaps you might consider an alternative?"
Hayato hesitated, torn between yelling indignantly at his classmate and actually considering her words. It would have been easier if he could honestly say that she had no idea what she was talking about, but he couldn't. She had taken him out with those fans before, easily at that.
Besides, sometimes having a brain like his was annoying, because now that he considered it, she was right, damn it! It wasn't like Hayato didn't know the consequences of smoking, but Mafia, enough said.
He had never counted on living a long life.
"I assure you, a corpse has never been of any use to a leader, any leader, let alone a Mafia Boss.
Words the witch sitting next to him had said, said witch currently tracing the clouds with her eyes almost dreamily. When she wasn't unfairly hitting Juudaime and nagging Hayato, she had a quiet presence, soft as the silk on her fans.
If you ignored the lethal iron designs crafted on them like an idiot, of course. He wasn't an idiot.
Hayato snorted. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He got to his feet and walked away.
"Onii-san, where are you going?"
"The pole-knocking event."
"...why?"
"The pathetic herbivores in charge of leading team B and C are unconscious."
"...and?"
"There's a possibility I might be able to fight the baby."
"...have fun, Onii-san."
"Finish the paperwork."
"Hai, hai."
Somehow, it wasn't even a surprise to receive a panicked call from Tsunayoshi before the sun had even fully appeared over the horizon. It was becoming a bad habit of his, really. She nonchalantly contemplated siccing Ryohei on him, but she actually found his complaints valid this time around.
"M-Masami-san! I-I th-think I just k-k-killed someone!" he shrieked through the receiver, sounding half hysterical and half neurotic. He was also sobbing lowly and probably trying to tear his hair out.
"...hmm," she muttered after a moment, overlooking the stuttering for once. To be honest, Masami had expected to have to deal with Kyoya's first kill before Tsunayoshi's. Impressively enough, her brother had managed to keep it to broken bones and deep bruises.
"MASAMI-SAAAAAAN!" Tsunayoshi cried, sniffing audibly. She wondered if he was crying already. Albeit it was for a good reason today, so perhaps she wouldn't reprimand him later.
"Calm down. I'll be there in five minutes. Breakfast isn't ready yet." Kyoya would hardly be impressed if Masami simply rushed out the door without finishing the meal at least. She had also been up until midnight last night finishing the last of her work, so Masami was still working through the last vestiges of sleep.
Tsunayoshi whimpered.
"Hmm." Masami nudged the corpse lying prostrate on the ground thoughtfully, fan covering the bottom half of her face. "He does appear to be dead..." There was no breathing or heartbeat anyhow. Still...
"Wow!" Takeshi grinned, ignorant to the horrified looks directed at him from almost everyone else in the room. "This mafia game's so realistic, huh, Tsuna?"
There was a moment of silence.
Takeshi turned to look at his friend with a concerned furrow of his brow. "Tsuna?"
And...that seemed to shock Tsunayoshi out of his frozen state. Sadly.
"Hieeeee!" Tsunayoshi screeched in despair, tears glinting in his eyes. She restrained the urge to wince at the loud noise. "My life is over! I should just turn myself into the authorities right now and go to jail!"
"C-Come on, Juudaime!" Hayato hastily reassured, looking rather discomforted himself. "I'm sure it won't be that bad! Reborn-san, can't you do anything?"
"Masami's already here, isn't she?" Reborn sipped at his cup of coffee calmly, unperturbed by the entire scenario. "Can't you do something about this, Masami?"
Tsunayoshi, Hayato, and Takeshi spun around to stare at her with wide eyes, as if they thought she was going to pull out a magical wand and wave it, thereby returning everything to normal. While it was somewhat flattering that they thought so highly of her, Masami found it more exasperating than anything.
Speaking of normal, that girl with brown hair...
"Sawada-san. Introductions, if you please." Masami curled her fan around and began to air herself with it, blinking at the other girl. Wasn't that the uniform of Midori Middle? At least someone here wasn't one of hers.
(Kyoya was the one who took people under his wing as easy as breathing, shouldered the burden of their safety, expectations, lives, hopes, and dreams without even seeming to notice. Masami wasn't like that, not really, for all that she was training his prefects and giving out orders in his absence and watching over three reckless idiots.)
"That's not the important thing here, you damn witch!" Hayato exploded, eyebrow twitching erratically, but Tsuna jolted upright, gulping hard as he realized what he had forgotten in his panic. The time she had spent drilling manners into him hadn't entirely gone to waste, after all.
"Ah! Haru, this is Hibari Masami. Masami-san, this is Miura Haru," Tsuna said, honey-brown eyes flickering between them nervously. "I'm sorry...this is a bad way for the two of you to meet…"
"No matter," Masami said calmly, sweeping out into a graceful bow. "Greetings, Miura-san. It's a pleasure to meet you. Do please call me Masami."
"H-Hahi! It's very nice to meet you, too!" Haru, looking a bit unsteady, bowed back, smiling brightly. "Can you really help Tsuna-san with...this?" She gestured at the body, cringing.
Masami shrugged and let loose with her fan.
BAM!
"KYAAA! DAMN IT, THAT HURT!" The presumed-dead-thief jumped up, howling like mad, hands gripping at the three-tiered lump that was blooming on the top of his head.
"There. Problem solved."
"Hieeeee!? He was alive, all along!?"
"Hahaha, apparently. Isn't this great, Tsuna?"
"There's nothing great about it at all, baseball freak!"
"What is the head of a branch of the Famiglia?" Masami asked.
Tsunayoshi bit his bottom lip, rubbing absently at the developing bruise on his cheek. "Uhhh...a consigliere?"
"Incorrect. That would be the caporegime or capodecina, normally shortened down to capo," she read from the book Reborn had procured out of nowhere two Saturdays ago.
"Dame-Tsuna, you're pathetic," Reborn commented, sipping happily at his espresso. Masami was getting better at making Reborn's drinks to his taste; this one had only taken five tries while Tsunayoshi was slammed into the floor by Kyoya and Takeshi ran around dodging bombs.
"I'm trying, Reborn," Tsunayoshi muttered, covering a yawn, the adrenaline rush probably close to wearing off. "I don't even want to be a mafia boss," he continued, softer this time like it was an afterthought.
They both ignored the latter comment, Masami because that honestly wasn't her concern and Reborn because he didn't care what his student wanted. "The consigliere is the adviser of the Famiglia, Sawada-san," she explained.
"There's also the Outside Adviser, which would be CEDEF in the Vongola's case," Reborn said.
"What's that?" Tsunayoshi downed his cup of tea and slid it down the chabudai. Masami refilled it obligingly.
"It stands for—"
"No, no, no!" Hayato shouted from across the room. "It's mat-ii-ta, not maaa-tita!"
Takeshi only hummed understandingly. "Oh, so it's matita?"
"No, it isn't, you stupid baseball idiot! How the fuck are you getting this wrong!? It's the word for 'pencil', goddammit!" Hayato sounded like he was ready to tear out his hair.
"Hahaha, this Italian stuff is hard."
"—Consulenza Esterna Della Famiglia," Reborn said without missing a beat, the Italian rolling off his tongue with enviable ease.
"What's that?" Tsunayoshi repeated.
"The External Advisers of the Family."
Tsunayoshi huffed in exasperation. "What's that!?"
"Figure it out yourself, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn commanded ruthlessly. "We're not teaching you Italian and Mafia terms so you can slack off."
"Hiieee, how is this considered slacking off!?" Tsunayoshi flailed, almost sending his teacup off the edge of the chabudai.
Masami saved the expensive tableware with a sigh and a, "please be careful, Sawada-san."
"Hieee! I'm so sorry, Masami-san!"
Masami flipped through the papers, the click-clack of her boots on the pebbled path muted. Transferring schools, especially from Italy to Japan, was more complicated than you would expect. The paperwork it generated was considerable.
Adding the shadiness of the Mafia and Hayato's possibly forged documents into the mess only made it worse.
The idea of more paperwork was confining in a way she didn't want to look too deeply at.
"I seem to be coming here a lot," Masami said to empty air as she walked down the road to Hayato's apartment. Delivering all of these forms to him herself wasn't necessary in her opinion, especially since Hayato would most likely only end up yelling at her as usual, but the other options were worse.
Kyoya and Hayato still got along like oil and water, while any prefects she sent would probably be bombed to kingdom come. So here she was, playing messenger girl.
Masami shook her head, ignoring the cool touch of her kanzashi as they brushed against her cheeks with the movement. Walking up the stairs, she was lifting up a hand to knock on Room 37's door when she heard it: the faint, unmistakable sound of piano music.
Oh.
She paused and, after a moment of thought, took a step to the right and turned around, leaning against the wall right next to the door. Flipping open her phone, she silently pressed the record function and settled down to listen.
Well-versed in classical music as she was, it took Masami only a few seconds to recognize Beethoven's Sonata Pathétique. It wasn't one of her personal favorites, but that didn't stop her from blowing out a quiet breath and closing her eyes. The slight burn informed her that she had been squinting at tiny print and reorganizing documents for far too long.
Quick, lilting notes danced in her awareness, followed by darker counterpoints, and it was oh so very easy to let herself forget about reality momentarily.
Masami hadn't played music since she was very young, under the guidance of her mother. She preferred dancing, but music was her passion in general, and it didn't take a professional to recognize that Hayato was very, very good at playing the piano. Yet, she didn't recall ever hearing him mention the talent.
But then, she did remember seeing the shadow of a piano hiding around the corner on her first visit here.
She didn't know how long she stood there in silence, listening as he shifted seamlessly from one movement to the next. When he finally finished the last measure, dramatic and cascading, the last notes lingering in the air, the silence that returned seemed a tad suffocating.
Masami smiled, heartfelt and grateful, and left without knocking.
She would get these papers to him tomorrow in class.
"Masa-chan! It's great that you could join us today!" Kyoko sighed blissfully, hands clasped together. "Isn't this place just wonderful?"
"It is," Masami agreed, peering around at the small bakery her female friends had dragged her to. It smelled of warm, decadent desserts, all chocolate and vanilla and sugar. "Miura-san, have you been here before?"
"Yup!" Haru grinned, enthusiasm lighting up her face. "Haru and Kyoko-chan met here actually!"
Kyoko laughed. "We did! The cream puffs are amazing, by the way. Why don't you try one, Masa-chan?"
"Oooh, and we can get a custard for Hana-chan!" Haru clapped her hands, sneaking a glance at the table near the windows, where the other girl was holding the fort, so to speak.
Masami considered the desserts through the glass. "I wouldn't mind a slice of cheesecake, I suppose."
"You won't regret it!" Kyoko promised cheerfully, leading the way to the counter. About to follow, Masami was deterred when Haru sidled up next to her, angled away from both Kyoko and Hana, a sheepish look appearing on her face.
"A-Ah...Masami-san...?" Haru fidgeted with her hands, shifting her weight from one foot to the next.
"Yes, Miura-san?"
"W-Well, you know about Tsuna-san and the whole"—she lowered her voice to a whisper, glancing furtively around—"Mafia thing, right?"
Masami wondered what Reborn was thinking. "That would be correct."
"Do you think that Haru...would be a good wife for Tsuna-san when he becomes a Mafia Boss?" Haru asked hesitantly, brown eyes wide and hopeful.
Masami really wondered what Reborn was thinking. Later, when she was walking back home and an explosion went off in the far distance, she consoled herself with the fact that the cakes had, in fact, been heavenly.
There was something to be said for relaxation.
Masami threw open her window and closed her eyes for a long moment. It was after midnight, she was in a white yukata that served as a nightgown, her fans were by her bed, her hair was down, and there was no need to uphold any pretenses anymore.
Even with Okaa-san's training, even with Masami's composure and self-control, she had been pushing it recently. Ever since Reborn, the harbinger of anarchy, had descended upon Namimori, if she was being honest.
Masami sat on the ledge and took ten minutes to simply breathe and twenty minutes to meditate, easing her frazzled mind back into something resembling into order. Her bare legs dangled absently over her meticulously kept garden, and the wind pulled playfully at her hair.
It would be so very easy to follow that call, to move and run and fly. But Onii-san, and the Committee, and Tsunayoshi—
She blew out a breath and steeled herself. Masami opened the notebook in her lap and spun a pencil between her fingers. She recorded a methodical narrative of her day. She made notes about the state of her school, the mood of her brother, and the relative level of insanity in her town.
Then, Masami turned to the pages on the three people that a charitable person would call her problematic friends, her brother would call her unruly pets, and who she simply called hers.
She sighed, long and deep.
If a stranger could see the three systematic profiles she had down on paper, they would have probably been disturbed. It wasn't exactly common for middle school girls to methodically take apart their associates' psyches and write them down on paper like some bizarre psychological report.
Masami just staunchly believed in knowing the people around her, inside and out. Strengths could be boosted, weaknesses could be exploited, and behavior could be manipulated, if she so chose. If asked, she would blame Hibari Rika for hammering in assassin's paranoia into her since childhood.
Tsunayoshi was the first and the easiest to understand, as much as any human being could be.
Way back in fifth grade, Masami had watched him for less than three days before being able to grasp the majority of his virtues and flaws, as well as the holes she could patch up by pulling a string here and pulling a string there, if she'd wanted to expend that effort.
Granted, Tsunayoshi had changed since those days, just as everyone did, and so, she had made corrections to his profile, but as the saying went: some things changed, and some things stayed the same.
He was kind, open, and generous. He was timid, fearful, and meek. He attracted attention, both good and bad, as easy as breathing. He was often overwhelmed by unusual events in his life—which happened daily—and would rather stand up for his friends than stand up for himself.
Naturally, Hayato was far more complicated.
He was intelligent and pragmatic. He was passionate and unreasonable, prone to bursts of temper and irritation. He was a scientific genius but believed in aliens and the supernatural. He was enthusiastic and zealous but also pessimistic and suspicious.
He pushed everyone but Tsunayoshi away, stubborn to a fault and just as belligerent. While he was expressive, Hayato wore his harder, more negative feelings on the outside, while concealing everything soft and vulnerable on the inside.
Masami could and had pegged down his obvious issues easily: smoking, overuse of dynamite, short temper, and lack of self-regard. That had been clear-cut enough. The more important dilemmas were less palpable and far more perplexing.
There was a need to prove his worth that translated into reckless, excessive actions. There was a desire to make a name for himself, carve out a niche in the world with force and fire. There was an obsessive devotion to Tsunayoshi, and an all-consuming goal to become the Right-Hand Man of the Vongola Decimo.
To make things worse, more recently, the matter of his sister, the vomiting, and the piano had come up. It was a good thing she liked puzzles, or she would have washed her hands clean of him a long time ago.
Takeshi was only slightly better.
He had only come along recently, so Masami didn't have much data on him, but if Tsunayoshi was an open book, and Hayato was layered like tree bark, then Takeshi's life was a masquerade. He hid behind his smiles and laughs like they were a veil, all the while honing the edges that made Reborn call him a 'natural born hitman'.
Which, interestingly enough, gave Masami a bit more insight because Reborn had also called her the same thing. Reborn deflected as well, relying on absurd antics and casual turmoil to divert attention from how very dangerous he was at the heart of his nature, from the power and skill that made him the Greatest Hitman in the World.
Masami wondered if all natural born hitmen used one shining, distracting facet of their personality to cover up the rest, dark and cold and lethal.
Takeshi was friendly, easygoing, and cheerful. He was also focused, perceptive, and instinctive. Masami had watched the sessions between Takeshi and Hayato, witnessed how the former had improved in leaps and bounds while advising the latter on how to progress as well.
This boy knew who he was, knew what he wanted to do, knew how to do it, and knew how to play it all off with a laugh and a joke. That took talent and a certain internal balance most people lacked. Indeed, if it hadn't been for the rooftop incident, Masami would have written him off as more stabilized than even Tsunayoshi and called it a day.
But of course it wasn't that easy.
So. Another subordinate, another puzzle. Unlike Hayato, Takeshi wasn't reckless or over-the-top in everyday interactions, but from what he had said on the rooftop, he had suffered from a loss of equilibrium. He needed something to cling onto, just as Kyoya needed to fight and Masami needed to dance.
For the moment, however, he appeared to have foregone his maniacal dedication to baseball in favor of fixating on Tsunayoshi, which...now that she thought about it, was becoming rather common. She hadn't made up her mind as to whether or not she should interfere yet.
Masami speculated on the possibility that she had decided to take Tsunayoshi under her wing in fifth grade because he was a Sky. It was an uncomfortable notion on a bone-deep level. She made a note in the margins of his page for future reference.
Past Takeshi's page was one on herself and then one on her brother. Those she didn't bother looking at, because she already had them memorized right down to the last word. Then, there was Reborn, which...just...no.
Masami took a deep breath and closed her eyes, covering a yawn. "Verdict?" she muttered into the quiet of night. "We are all terribly unsettled by society's standards."
The open road beneath her feet whispered, and she wanted to answer.
OpalescentGold: So, Takeshi joins their merry little band, Tsuna continues to suffer unusual and cruel punishment courtesy of Reborn, Hayato is in a perpetually bad mood around everyone but Tsuna, and Masami's composure is starting to show some cracks.
All the love to my beta, turtlehoffmann2251! And...reviews!~
Chabudai: tables with short legs.
Dango: sweet Japanese rice dumplings with a chewy texture.
Gyoza: Japanese dumplings.
Kabuto: a type of helmet traditionally a part of Japanese armor.
Kanzashi: hair ornaments used in traditional Japanese hairstyles.
Kimono: Japanese traditional robes worn so that the hem falls to the ankle, with attached collars and long, wide sleeves.
Maiko: trainee Geisha who typically undergo training from their mid teens to early twenties
Seiza: formal way of sitting, kneeling with legs folded underneath.
Yukata: a casual summer kimono.