Things are moving fast in a town with lazy afternoons.
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TW: mentions of child abuse/child trafficking (not Tsuna) / emotional manipulation/mentions of death & violence / Grooming (NOT SEXUAL).
I'll be honest, both Daemon and Xanxus groomed Tsuna in a way to survive the Mafia for their own selfish reasons. It's not justifiable because she is a child and she never saw it that way other than them looking out to protect her, but I want to put the warning in case it triggers you. And to be clear, it was not with the intention to S.A her, but rather, to manipulate her trust so that her power/title could be theirs. (Jokes on them)
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Tsunayuuki woke up screaming.
Everything was fading, pictures and words scrambling away from her terrified mind as the darkness of her bedroom, illuminated only by neon sticky stars she and her mamma put the night before in the walls came into view. One was close to falling, but she was too busy crying to notice.
It was scary and she was scared; scared and cold and alone, and she didn't want to be cold and alone anymore. Or scared.
"Tsu-chan!"
"What is it? What's wrong, Is it a bat? A raccoon? I got it, I'll hit it!"
"Mamma!" She cried, begging for the arms that were already there to wrap around her.
"Shh, it's alright, my darling. You're safe, it was just a bad dream"
"No, no, don't let him get me!"
"You're safe, you're safe with me. No one will hurt you, I promise. I promise, shhh. It's okay. Honey, put the fire poker down. You'll scare her." Her mamma said as she rocked her gently, rubbing her back and letting her cry loudly on her chest.
"No one's stronger than your mamma, Tsuna-fish! She'll protect you!" Her father waved a pointy stick in the air, but Tsunayuuki, snotted-faced and with nightmare sand still glued in her eyes, was not scared at that sight.
"Like… Like a sailor magic ranger?" Tsunayuuki sniffed, staring at her mamma curiously now that the tremors were fading by her gentle hands.
"Mn" Her mamma nodded and leaned down to whisper with a secret smile "And you know what a magic ranger does? They kiss good luck like this!"
Her mamma kissed her playfully, and like magic, it managed to bring a screeched giggle from her tiny body instead of a sob. Already, the fear that had haunted her was fading from her mind, replaced by her mamma's soft and her father's loud presence in the room, but an echo of the nightmare remained still, imprinted every time she closed her eyes despite not understanding what it was…
"Let's get you back to bed, ne?"
"No! Don't leave me!"
"Never darling"
And Tsunayuuki believed her.
But she refused to let go.
She didn't want to be alone tonight.
So without much pleading, she slept in her parent's bed that night, wrapped in a soft blanket and her mother's arms around her. With loud snores on her left and soft hums on her right, it was the safest place she's ever known as she closed her eyes.
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The next morning, things seemed back to normal and it was like the nightmare was all but that, a bad dream.
It wasn't the first nightmare she had, not in Italy and not before they left Japan. But this one stayed in her thoughts longer than any other before. Her mind, too young and easily scared, couldn't process the significance of what she saw, let alone why she even dreamt that. All she knew was that she didn't want to feel scared like that ever again.
Tsunayuuki didn't talk about it or even dare to draw it. The memory was gone from her mind to be truthful, but she still dressed herself as a fairy for that day— with a pink tutu, sparkling cotton wings attached with elastic cords over her shoulders and her jewelled dagger acting as a magical wand to protect her from evil. It was magic, and if she couldn't make fire yet, then she could be brave because she was a fairy now.
After an Italian breakfast that consisted of chocolate milk and sweet bread, her father went to work while her mamma tended the garden, so it was Tsunayuuki's job to protect her home. It was a very big home with lots of old things and new places to find with every adventure. And what's best, is that she wasn't completely alone.
"Hello, pretty bird"
Tsunayuuki knew of parrots but had never seen or interacted with a smart bird before. This white bird acted as if it understood her, chirping as if answering her and flying around her head in her adventures when she wasn't following Daemon or bothering Xanxus when he came to visit. She saw it as the spirit guardian of the house, often leading her to find secret trinkets, and even when it wasn't always there and she would prefer to have a cat as a magical pet instead, Tsunayuuki loved the company.
The adventure of today consisted of exploring the top floor, the attic, as her father had pointed out with a finger. He didn't say it was forbidden to go, so Tsunayuuki climbed the stairs until she reached the very top with curiosity. If the house was quiet when they arrived, then this floor seemed abandoned, it was as if someone had forgotten to clean it.
It made her sneeze a lot.
There was dust everywhere— in the walls, the floor, even in the air as she waved a hand in front of her to clear the path. Tsunayuuki knows that when there's lots of dust, there's usually a treasure hidden. Or a magical secret. At least that's what happened in a cartoon she watched. Why would they leave a room covered in dust if not to hide something?
At first glance, the attic seemed huge. The space was like a long maze with broken furniture and things hidden underneath white sheets. Right at the side of the stairs was a door that led to a small closet with dirty clothes that smelt wet and dusty, boxes too heavy for her to open and funny-looking objects. The house already looked like a princess movie, but the items here looked even older. Well, it's not like Tsunayuuki knows much about time; for her, everything looked old.
Losing interest in the closet, she closed the door and skipped toward the start of the maze, making sure not to trip. She has never seen a scary movie, but boys at school used to gush about moving white sheets turning into ghosts. She had waited, that first day, hiding behind her father's long legs for the sheets to come alive, but they never did. They remained boring bedsheets, so she wasn't afraid to walk through them.
Unless Daemon was hiding underneath to scare her.
It already happened.
She didn't like it.
Holding her dagger closer just in case, she tipped carefully, peering at what she could see from underneath the hidden stuff. It's not that she was scared to pull the sheets, no. Rather, she just didn't want her fairy wings to get dirty.
With that thought in mind, she kept exploring. She walked past stacks of huge books towering from the floor, knocked her knees on more wooden chests that she hoped had other things than pirate drinks inside and exclaimed gasps of awe at paintings she thought could only exist in old castles. Some of them were even bigger than her!
She has only been to one museum in Namimori, but none of the paintings there were as big or as pretty as the ones here. Some even showed people and they looked so real, Tsunayuuki was sure one of them moved and blinked at her! Maybe they were magical paintings and they were too scary to be anywhere else.
Or maybe, she wondered with a tiny frown as she stared at a painting of what looked to be a cow sitting on a poor man's chest in the ground, the paintings in the attic were too ugly and nobody wanted them so they hid them here.
Oh well.
She's not an expert, but she will be. Practice makes perfect, her father says. And as she changed from crayons to watercolours, her own drawings were becoming more real, or so her mamma says. And when they do, she will open a museum and be rich! Maybe she can use some of the paintings from here?
The pretty bird chirped and flapped its wings when Tsunayuuki looked up. The white feathers were fluffy like cotton as they led her further into the room. For all the puffing and shaking, Tsunayuuki has never found a stray feather to keep. And she didn't want to pluck it out from the bird, not that it had ever approached her within grabbing range, but she would really like to touch one.
As if reading her thoughts, and maybe the magical bird could, it flapped its wings and perched itself on top of a huge clock. Around it were boxes and more of those pirate chests. With a swoosh of her dagger, Tsunayuuki waved away any lingering spirits before crouching down.
It took her a lot of struggle to open the boxes, and even more so the chests. And when she did, she was attacked by clouds of dust that had her sneezing and crying. Most of them contained very old letters that were crumbling at the edges in words she didn't understand; probably that Itariri her father has been trying to teach her and dead flowers that were turning to ash.
Quickly losing interest, she pawed through the papers for a treasure, anything but there were just more crumbling papers. Until finally, after a bit more scavenging on the last chest, she found some paintings, no wait, photos. They were photos in brown colours, a bit blurry on the faces but visible enough to recognise them as people.
The first one was inside a bound leather notebook she didn't try to read. It showed three boys, two were hugging the one in the middle, all dressed in baggy, dirty clothes and smiling at whoever took the picture. There was nothing peculiar about it, so she set it down and grabbed the next one, which made her smile immediately. It was Daemon! He looked younger and like a prince, and he was dancing with a princess in a pretty dress in what must be a castle.
She set that one aside, planning to give it to him later. Or keep it to make fun of him if he teases her with his evil magic jokes.
The last photo was the only one with a frame. It was old and broken, she could barely distinguish the figures by all the dirt and webs hiding the picture. But the longer she stared at it without blinking, the more she was able to recognize Daemon and two boys from the first photograph in it.
It looked like a group photo— she counted seven figures gathered around a sofa. It was a bit blurry, but she noted they all looked different from one another. They weren't family-looking; not like Tsunayuuki's hair resembled her mamma's and her clear eyes were like her father's. Everyone looked strange and was dressed oddly too. One was even wearing a yukata! Was he Japanese too? Or was it a costume party? But then why weren't they wearing masks if it was Halloween?
Wait! She squinted and brought the photo closer to her eyes. Either the photo had a stain or one of them had paint on his face…
They were weird, she decided as she set the frame back inside the chest, choosing only to take the notebook and Daemon's picture. She was hoping to find some weapons or jewels to play with, but seeing as there were still some blank pages on the notebook, she will keep it.
The pretty bird was gone when she stood up, but it was fine, Tsunayuuki knew her way back. And as she closed the chest and covered it with a white sheet, she soon forgot about the fading letters and crumbling petals keeping the old pictures company as she ran to her room.
She hid her photo inside her pillow and left the notebook with her sketchbook before joining her mamma in the garden. They were picking blueberries and filling tiny baskets of them to sell later at the market, or so her mamma said. Why couldn't they just eat them all? Tsunayuuki didn't know. She liked them, they were sweet and only a little bitter, and she didn't want to share them with everyone.
We can buy more sweets after we sell them, Tsu-chan, her mother reassured her, but Tsunayuuki was still pouting as she sneakily put less blueberries on the buckets by eating them.
When night came, after her mamma had come to wish her goodnight and read her a fairytale to keep her dreams light, she pondered on how to protect the blueberries from being stolen when Daemon appeared from the shadows.
"Tell me a story"
"No"
"But I ate peas today!"
"Your mother already read you a story"
"I want another one!"
Childish. Selfish. Loud. Stupid. If the child wasn't at threat of being killed by her lineage, then it'd surely be by her whining.
"I will show you something funny!"
"Your bargain skills are pathetic" He sneered as he crossed his arms and surveyed the room.
There was stirring at HQ, whispers not initiated by him but certainly encouraged about internal conflicts that were leading towards a clean-up. The best thing about being a ghost was that he had ears everywhere, it allowed him to hear things behind the walls of the inner circles and their conspiracies at the dinner table. He doubts trouble will come to the Villa, but it wouldn't hurt to stand guard on his recent pet project.
"Fine! What do you want?"
"Never give your opponent free rein to decide, stupid child" He scolded her and pinned her down with a glare "When you demand something impossible, be expected to trade something of equal measures. So better yet, offer something that can benefit you in return"
"Hmm…Okay! Here" She did think hard before bouncing on the bed to search one of the bed tables and offered him a leather journal "You know Itaririana, right? You can read a story from there"
"It's Italian" He corrected her absentmindedly and plucked the journal from her hands. It was old, the leather clearly wasn't cared for, it had tears in it and some pages were loose as he opened it, but when he did, when he recognized the penmanship and saw the dates recorded on the pages, he became intrigued. "Where did you get this?"
"It's a secret! Now it's your turn" She smiled with all the mischief and smugness a little kid could possess.
And oh.
Oh.
What a very precious secret.
Daemon's gloved fingers gripped the pages harshly to the point of almost tearing them as he read the last entry of the journal, a wishful note saying goodbye to a friend, wondering if they would ever meet again under the same sky, all while the author prepared himself for a life of exile on another land. It was a short passage, but it was enough to light the pyre his frozen soul had become.
He reread it over and over and over again until he had the words all memorised and yet it took a while for it to sink in. And when it did, he was overcome by emotions. Surprise that was simmering into indignation that turned into rage and solidified into bitter fury.
All this time…
All This Time!
His Famiglia was mocking him; abandoned and betrayed him.
Cozato lived.
They choose to protect an outsider, a street rat that brought death to his family and for what? Friendship? Where was friendship when his love lay bleeding in his arms? Where was loyalty when the underworld crept over their garden and shadowed their dreams? They would rather wipe their hands clean and leave Daemon to clean their mess than face the devil they had let in.
All this fucking time…
Daemon had dirtied his hands keeping Vongola from crumbling and fighting the evil his boss had allowed inside, all while his precious friends lived a life in paradise with no deaths, no guns, no blood, no wars, no greed, no power. Nothing, but their lives untouched by the shadows they escaped, all while leaving Daemon to pick up the broken pieces.
"Are you crying?"
"Do not touch me!" He snarled, making the girl flinch but he was far too mad to care.
Where was Alaude's fucking justice? He must have been on it too. He created the CEDEF right after the exile. It not only prevented Secondo from accessing complete control over Vongola, but it also kept Daemon from turning away to matters beyond the sea, too busy constructing, moving, manipulating and shifting unbreakable seams.
"It's okay" Tsunayuuki said a bit more quietly "The papers made me cry too. You can burn it if it hurts you"
He should burn it.
He should burn the book and the Villa and the fucking HQ to the ground. Everything and everyone and start from zero. How hard can it be? He could create legions of manpower and keep the crystal castle from breaking with his power alone. He was a founder, he knew all that was to know, all that needed to be done. He should annihilate everything that remained of those treacherous, spineless cowards.
"I can show you something funny to make you smile?"
But not everything. No. You can burn a garden, but a bud will always survive against all odds if given proper care. And with his power, he can flourish that flower to bloom to his liking. But how can he care for it when she oh so painstakingly haunted his thoughts? How can he poison her flowerbed when she reminds him of her?
His heart.
Innocent, naive, magical with a hint of mischief. She was a child born from a could-be, daughter of light and offspring of darkness. A child of both worlds, the ordinary realm and the underworld, stumbling on the thin line that blurred them both. Smiling at danger in the dark, flinching from ghosts in the sunlight. She wanted to belong and was trusting blindly to stay.
But she was Giotto's spawn.
If her spirit reminded him of his departed love, then her face alone was a ghostly reminder of the man who threw his bond for a street rat. His Boss was supposed to be gone. There was no bloodline to carry his Will and weak ideals, Daemon made sure of it, and yet, 200 years later, this child appears.
Haunting him.
Mocking him.
Was it Fate? Karma?
A gift? A curse?
He had pushed his boss to step down and exiled him to faraway lands, his weak heart couldn't keep a calamity from unleashing chaos into the world any longer than Daemon's bond with him could survive another disappointment. And it seems he, in fact, had the last laugh, knowing his precious friend lived while Daemon became a ghost to their memories.
All the previous Bosses came from Secondo's bloodline, tainted in their own greed for power as was the renaissance of Vongola's at his hand. But none of them carried Vongola's original sin— the price paid by blood they swore to bind the Sky to the World.
But this can prove a threat if left unattended. He wouldn't be like his dear boss and stay still twirling his thumbs while a potential factor could take what he built and destroy it. He couldn't stand still, not when Cozato's lineage was alive somewhere. Away from poisoning his Vongola with his naivety and weak ideals, but alive nonetheless. And if they even dare think they can crawl out of hiding and steal a throne, well, Daemon will show them hell.
For one harrowing moment, he considered annihilating them, for one of Vongola's dogs to find them slaughtered in their beds and weep at losing Primo's last wish. He really wanted to kill them all.
But he can work this in his favour.
If his dead Boss spawned an hier, who's to say that blasted man that cursed his Family didn't too? If he played his cards right, he can weave discord and bring to knees those outsiders to bleed for his cause instead.
There is retribution to be paid.
It won't be long for a power struggle to strike this generation. Everyone knows the more heirs there are, the faster they go until there is only one. He didn't like the spoiled little prince or the self-righteous firstborn, and the bastard brat seemed to have more of Secondo's Will than anyone else in the current circle, pity the bloody Ring will not recognize his Will as a worthy soul.
But there was one in front of him now.
Sawada Tsunayuuki was a pureblood, albeit washed down by ten generations, she carried Primo's blood. By right, the Ring and Throne were hers. Her soul was imprinted by Vongola's original sin, engraved in her veins and tainted in her blood. By all means, she can take the crown instead of hiding her away like one of those forgotten antiques in the attic. Even if she hasn't showcased any abilities like hyper intuition or sparked her flames to life, who's to say they wouldn't be developed in time?
And a child, so easily moulded and manipulated, how easy would it be to turn her into his heir? Already, she soaked in all his lessons, eager to learn more, despite her screaming and crying, she always begged to learn more. To fight better. To be stronger. Powerful. She wanted to belong, all for the sake of staying with a made-believe family and playing this Mafia game her little head had created, where the odds were simply eating vegetables as punishment and fighting invisible monsters instead of death and desolation.
It was naivety at its best and ignorance at its worst, but Daemon will not let her commit the same mistake his Boss did. If Giotto failed to recognize the danger he welcomed with open arms, then Sawada Tsunayuuki will inherit Daemon's Will.
Vongola will rise again, he will make sure of it.
It truly was a gift on a silver platter.
"Mr Ghost?"
He needed to leave. He needed to leave before he killed her in his rampage threatening to burst free and hunt down the vermin before it grew roots in their yard. If the journal didn't have clues of the secret whereabouts Vongola had been hiding from him, then he knew CEDEF held the answers, and it would be oh so very easy to slip in.
"Daemon!"
"Quiet"
"You're grumpy. Did you sleep? Do ghosts sleep?"
It was going to be a long and tedious investment, but he will take it.
He looked at the child, pouting at his lack of attention and mimicking a glare that could have only come from the bastard boy, and she looked like a fool attempting to do so.
"You can't cause trouble in three days" He half pondered, half ordered and half demanded. Knowing her, the Villa would indeed catch fire if left to her own devices, but he couldn't waste time. With how protected the house was, with Iemitsu's protective presence, the angry boy's possessive attitude and Daemon's own wards against wandering eyes, nothing would enter with the intention to harm.
"You're leaving?"
"I'll be back"
"You can't leave! I'll die!"
"Don't be ridiculous" He huffed, and tucked the journal inside his pocket, ignoring her outcry in exchange for looking down at her with a stern glare. "Now. Behave. When I come back, I expect progress in your training. No fooling around, no talking to strangers, no offering yourself away in exchange for treats. And do not wander alone. Understood? "
"Will you bring me a present?"
"No"
"Daemon!"
He sank into the shadows, murdering thoughts echoed by her cries demanding a gift and for him to 'please, come back soon' and that 'he owed her a story!'.
Ridiculous, really.
Now, he has prey to hunt.
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There was a new drawing in the fridge.
And in her bedroom wall.
And in the foyer.
Tsunayuuki was mapping her adventures in crayons and watercolours. They weren't perfect, their realism was yet to be honed but her childlike imagination was growing. It was endearing trying to decipher what she imagined and give made-up names to the figures that kept appearing in her drawings.
There were portraits of Nana and Iemitsu in orange, superhero outfits and for some reason he had a moustache in all of them, which made Nana laugh merrily and kiss his cheek when he pointed it out.
There were also drawings of a green cat, a white bird and what must be her tiny portrayal of herself with fire wings riding a pony. She hasn't begged for a pet yet, but maybe this was a silent request for one, like making a list for Santa Claus, only 8n this case drawing what she wanted.
And then, most frequently, one could find a dark blob flying around her tiny figure on the papers, climbing castles, finding treasures and fighting ghosts. Other drawings sometimes showcased two tall figures holding hands with her, one in white and one in black, like two chess pieces on opposite sides.
None of them raised any flags, his little fish was only five, after all. And she was alone in a big, old house filled with paintings and antiques to fill her head with ideas.
However…
"Honey, how do you feel about the local art centre I mentioned? It will keep her afternoons busy" Iemitsu said, staring at the recent drawing of what had to be a figure wielding a gun and someone on the ground surrounded by fire. Has his little fish seen the telly? He knows the media loves to romanticise and dramatise the Italian Mafia in their movies, so she probably has seen something she shouldn't when left unsupervised. Perhaps that was the nightmare about…
"Do you think we can hire that Italian tutor first? She needs to learn her numbers first" His dear Nana asked, both watching their little daughter sneakily take handfuls of blueberries from the prepared baskets ready to be taken to the market and placing them on her neverending breakfast plate.
"I'll interview the best ones tomorrow" Iemitsu promised. He had his team investigate five candidates with credentials and governess backgrounds already. He didn't want a nanny to scold his daughter to be a proper lady and stop her creativity, just someone responsible enough to teach her the ABCs and one, two, threes and keep her media consumption PG-13.
Easy.
.
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Life has been bleak for a couple of years now.
The novelty of belonging to an occult society had faded alongside the label of the strongest seven in the world. They never considered trickery in the deal made, truly thinking they were gaining the best outcome; but greed has always been their weakness, and acquiring access to lost knowledge and infamous influence on the world was like opening Pandora's box.
Too tempting to be left in the dark.
But instead of setting evil into the world, they got cursed inside a tiny vessel to roam around like a ghost haunting flies until the day of reckoning comes calling. Not even their cards and coins foretold the years of misery that lay ahead, they couldn't cheat Fate, for they weren't
And so at their first opportunity, they fled.
They were chained, yet free to roam. They could return, but they didn't want to. Nothing was tying them despite a weak calling still bounding them to this land. The betrayal had scorched them deeply to their bones, the marrow had almost melted and flooded them with bitter resentment. It was not in their nature to seek retribution, to be violent and spiteful in the face of injustice, for their heart has always been ruled by apathy.
There was nothing to avenge, for even their malefactor was long gone, her predecessor claiming her place and giving them an even wider rein to go as they pleased. There was no bond claiming their core, a sincere apology that felt more cruel the longer they went without a warm welcome.
For the chain binding them to that rotten Fate was not to the flesh born from their dead harbinger but to the curse itself woven in her blood. And as their current head refused to break the thread but was not interested in cultivating a proper bond, they could do nothing but drift.
Over the decades they had worked as a private consultant and street foreteller, entertaining themselves in exchange for a fortune that kept growing in their vault. It always amused them how the most sceptics became fanatics of the occult once their future was revealed. And if they worshipped their skills and endowed more gold for good fortune, well, how can they refuse free offerings?
It's not like they were lying. Just telling them what they wanted to hear, a little illusion there, and suddenly all their dreams had come true. And if they succumbed to mystery, why, there was no evidence it was their doing.
Solving mysteries also kept boredom at bay. But they worked alone, and watched detectives and Interpol solve their cases from afar, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention and be tied to a Famiglia, like some of their cursed associates had become.
Trust was so easily broken, they knew without their fortune-reading abilities that if they were to allow a clear Sky to open the fog their lives had been submerged into it would only lead to mourning they wouldn't survive. They were lonely but they didn't mind the loneliness if it meant guarding their heart.
At least, that's what they told themselves. Yet a single moment could crumble the decade of solitude and wall they had built around themselves.
They were passing through, close to the heart of Sicily but away from the prying eyes of the ruling Familgia of the region. It was supposed to be a whim of a trip, sightseeing, with nothing to acquire of value.
And yet, as they hovered above the ground, invisible to everyone around going on with their everyday lives, a pang of yearning strung their core. In their chest, after long seasons of silence, the little nebulose orb that chained him sparkled to life.
Such an unwarranted reaction raised alarms in their head, indignation curled fervently like a snake poised to attack at the audacious tug they felt constricting their heart. After years and years of isolation was this how they were called back? Like a dog being pulled from their leash to answer a master they did not wish to serve?
They weren't vindictive, no. But that didn't mean they were passive either and would allow anyone, that woman's daughter included, to walk over them as they pleased. So they stilled and waited, coiled tighter and listened to the yearning echoing a melody of longing they had not heard since that unforgettable day in the cursed mountain when they lost everything.
But the tug remained if nothing but capricious, pulling softly at them without urgency or strength, it was barely there, that presence wanting to make itself known yet shying away, like a creature waking from slumber latching at the first source of warmth to cuddle with and go back to sleep again.
Their resentment simmered to intrigue, morphed into unease and settled into apprehension.
They knew what they felt, the allure of a pure and boundless Sky. Weak tendrils of light seeping through the mist, like fingers sliding through water to reach the other side. And they knew what that meant, the sweet harmony of a bond wanting to connect, humming softly in notes of infinite devotion they had long yearned for. But they knew what it would mean, that no matter the pain and agony that awaited them at the end of their journey, they couldn't ignore the promise of belonging.
That foreboding turned to wonder when they saw her.
A little star among a sea of monotony.
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.
.
Adjusting to a new place wasn't as scary as she had thought it would be. No kids were pulling her hair or trying to poke her eyes. And true, some old ladies had patted her cheeks and cooed loudly at her, but they weren't saying mean words to her. Or maybe it was because she couldn't understand their language yet, but she was trying, and she was very, very sure they weren't saying bad words about her or her mamma.
Tsunayuuki held her basket of blueberries and tried to stay close to her mamma as they walked through the market, but there was something new to see on every stall and she wanted to see it all! Some had thousands of flowers and vegetables, and bread, so much bread from all sizes, and old books like the ones from the attic. And she could see colourful bags and toys and even fish on the stalls closer to the roads of water.
People not only drove cars and bicycles in this town, but they also had little boats! Although Tsunayuuki wasn't interested in them. But it wasn't because she was scared of the water! She just didn't want to be in them.
And along the narrow aisles, Tsunayuuki got distracted by something shining in the distance. A diamond? Oh, but the light was gone. Was it one of those insects that twinkled? She hates insects. Butterflies were cute but anything else was a big nono. Better go before the insect follows her-
Ah.
Her mamma was gone.
Instant panic froze her. She was more confused than scared, she tried not to be scared. It was fine. She was fine. Her mamma will come back. And nothing bad could happen. And even if tears started to blur her sight, she sniffed loudly and stuck next to the bread stall, trying to be brave and not cry.
And so when a woman holding a bag of fruits stopped in front of her and said something with a kind smile, Tsunayuuki smiled in return and shook her head, not understanding what she was saying but hoping to be understood that she was fine.
And when the lady managing the stall pointed towards the bread, Tsunayuuki shook her head. She didn't have any coins even if it smelt very good. The bread lady tried again, waving her hands widely and speaking more slowly, so Tsunayuuki raised her basket of blueberries, and she was given soft bread in exchange with a gesture that Tsuna recognized as 'stay there'.
And when a dirty kid her size approached her, smiling and pointing to one of the boats where a man was handing out paper pinwheels to other kids, Tsunayuuki wrinkled her nose and shook her head. He was persistent, but when Tsunayuuki flinched back before he could grab her, the kid only huffed before the bread lady shooed him away.
And when two old ladies riding bikes and carrying big bags stopped to buy bread, they cooed and patted her head gently. And despite not understanding them, they spoke with the bread lady in hush voices, but Tsunayuuki could hear worry instead of mocking and was given a small chocolate.
And when a smelling-funny man smiled and offered a hand to her, Tsunayuuki ate her bread and shook her head. He spoke cheerfully and pointed towards a stall that held candies, but again, she shook her head and said no. She knew how to say no. He frowned but was quickly shooed away by the bread lady.
So yeah, people were nicer to her in this town.
But where was her mamma?
She had looked all over the area with her eyes, not wanting to leave the safety of the bread, but she was still too small and couldn't see beyond the stalls. It was a risk, but Daemon had trained her! And this can prove to him and Xanxus that she was brave and strong and could find her mamma on her own.
She stood on her tiptoes one last time, trying to decide which way to go when a flash of light crossed her sight. The insect was back!
She flinched and followed the little ball, scared it would eat her bread and in doing so, she saw a flash of brown.
"Tsu-chan!"
"Mamma!"
The bread lady tried to stop her, but Tsunayuuki was faster and ran towards the familiar figure rushing towards her.
"There you are!" Her mamma knelt and hugged her tight, patting her all over as she scolded her but Tsunayuuki just melted in her arms and trembled. "Tsu-chan, don't wander off like that again. I have told you. It's dangerous!"
"Sorry"
"You're alright. It's okay" Her mamma kissed her head before smiling at what she was holding "And you got bread? My, shall we make sandwiches for lunch, Tsu-chan? Maybe we can make chowder bread bowls for your new tutor tomorrow"
"Hai!"
She didn't know what it was but it sounded delicious.
The bread lady smiled and greeted them kindly when they approached, giving them more bread her mamma tried to refuse but accepted with an equal kind smile. Her mamma was better at speaking with everyone, but Tsunayuuki knew enough too and so once the bread was in their basket, she said a soft grazie she knew meant thank you in that Italini word.
The bread lady waved as they left.
Hand in hand, she walked with her mamma leading her away from the shadows of the canal, where unknown to all who didn't turn a blind eye, a street kid was being hauled into a trunk, never to be seen again.
.
.
.
Massimo was dead.
Xanxus peered at his glass.
Massimo was dead.
Murdered.
He was suffocated in a river. Choked. Drowned.
And Xanxus felt no sympathy or empathy or grief or pity.
Now Ernico was next in line, being pampered and groomed by grieving elders after losing their heir. Federico was an annoying menace, wailing about justice and revenge, all while glaring at his remaining brother in envy and jealousy. And the old man was inconsolable after losing his firstborn. Not his favourite in place of table seats, but the one to inherit the Ring.
He truly couldn't stand the mood of the mansion, so he left and found himself at the Villa, again.
Even if they were half-siblings who never fought, one would assume he would be sad and seeking vengeance like the rest of the family, but Xanxus felt nothing. And it didn't bother him. Instead, his mind was brooding.
If there is no one else, I'll be next. Was a nagging thought he couldn't shut up but never entertained for long. After all, bastard sons were not allowed to run the Famiglia. Was another whisper he couldn't quiet.
But he has Vongola's blood too. It didn't matter if his mother was not married to the main line, he was the Ninth's son too. It was his birthright, no matter how muddled it was to the senile elders who refused to accept his existence. If Ernico and Federico perished too, then there would be no one else to inherit the power but him. There would be constant vigilance from now on, but death will come for all of them, it was only a matter of time.
Next year, five years, ten years— they will die but someone must always be seated on the throne.
And it made him wonder, what the heck was he doing with his life? He was a bastard, but he might as well be a spare. The third one in line, as a matter of fact, but an empty Sky with no bonds or connections in the underworld, just spite and resentment brewing by the minute.
And what the fuck was he doing? If he shall become the boss next year, five years, or in ten years, then he must be ready and monopolise the pieces worthy of him. Friends? Teammates? The hell with that! He was a Sky, powerful and boundless, his guardians will be skilful assassins who were to be loyal to no one but him. He wouldn't settle for anything more. Strong, demonic, merciless creatures that bowed to no one, not even death. For if they die, then it means they weren't worth it.
He hates it, but rather than selling his soul, bonding with elements of his choosing seems like a small price to pay. So that when the time comes, they can overrule Vongola and kick the bigoted elders away from decision-making. He doesn't need a council, he doesn't need his father to tell him how to sign treaties, the CEDEF poking their noses on his business or even fucking Varia stealing his prey.
He can feel the wind shifting direction, and if it doesn't blow in his favour, then he will make a storm. No more waiting around like a stray dog looking for food. Even if it didn't happen, even if the other heirs lived for decades and their bones piled on the throne, Xanxus would outlive them and make something of his life other than being the bastard spare.
And just as a dream started forming in his mind, his vicious thoughts were disturbed by the sound of something shattering and the weak cry that followed.
"Again?" He drawled before knocking his drink down his throat.
"Why does food always go boom when I touch it?!"
"Because you're an idiot"
"Not true! I'm a fire fairy!"
"You're an eyesore"
What the fuck was he doing here?
Every day he questions his sanity, dignity and mind on why the fuck he was even entertaining this brat willingly, but then his core spun faster and responded by the harmony it brought to his own flames, and reluctantly, he let himself bask in it.
Not for the first time was he at odds with his own flames, whose prime instinct was to scorch this brat wanting to set herself on fire and yet cloaked around her like a blanket instead. Was this a mockery? He had snarled in his mind, had shouted at his hands as the light of flames condensed on them, shining brighter and burning wilder.
It was part humiliating, half disconcerting and a quarter intriguing. At first, the negative aspects tried to overrun the wonder, because why the hell would he entertain the whims of a crazy brat? But the longer he stayed in her presence, the longer he felt the effects of what could only be described as allure. Her flames, however weak and tiny they were, were alive and had taken a liking to his.
He hated it, but he wouldn't kill her for it.
Xanxus might be a bastard filth born on the streets with a penchant for violence and brutality, but he does not kill children. No matter how annoying they were. An acidic glare was enough to scare them away, but this stupid brat was wrong in the head. She smiled instead of crying and stayed instead of running. She saw him kill someone and she invited him to stay.
By all rights, she was his now.
She wanted so much to belong, to not be alone, as a Sky was wont to feel. At her age, he already could produce flames in his hands and incinerate the grass he stepped on. But all she could do was syphon energy and return it in tiny wisps that felt richer than when she stole them. The brat was like a tiny battery, leeching his flames, storing them, purifying and enhancing them. There wasn't a huge leap in power, but he could feel his flames spinning as if trying to evolve.
And that was her, being five and unaware of her quirk. It raised questions he was not interested to seek or answer, but knew eventually he would have to look for if he wanted to keep her gift to himself.
There was no way the old man knew about it, otherwise, he would have her core locked however nonexistent her flames were.
But danger went beyond exploiting her ability. Signora Daniella, rest her soul, was proof of how misogyny still persisted in the Famiglia. She had made the elders bow and kneel with her resolution and Will alone, but Xanxus had also heard gossip about her scandalous affairs, and that was enough to diminish her value in the eyes of everyone. It was obvious what a woman, a kid nonetheless, harbouring a strange power-up could mean to the Famiglia.
Iemitsu was a Sky, and just like with Xanxus, blood had a factor if flames were inherited. Hers were yet to awaken, if at all, but if they did, coupled with her strange habit of condensing little sparks of flames and purifying them, it would be an aberration, a bad omen for her future if the inner circle found out. She's either going to be used as a weapon, carted and married off to continue the bloodline or bargained as a war prize with no ownership of her autonomy.
But despite not knowing the man personally but also knowing he was an idiot, he somehow doubted Iemitsu would sell his little daughter like that. He would gain nothing. He wasn't greedy for power, that's why he was the CEDEF leader after all. Yet it begs to question…
It was a fucking miracle her shattering plates haven't rise any flags to her parents. One does not learn how to produce flames, it is instinctual. And by trying to imitate him, she was unconsciously moving the stolen energy through condensed paths, and with no Will to give it shape, it bounced back in tiny bursts that collided with anything it touched. The weaker the matter, the bigger the impact, hence all the shattering glass.
Or perhaps Iemitsu did know, and was keeping his daughter closer to him and away from Vongola's prying eyes, hiding her in plain sight, easier to protect and control than from afar. And the less Iemitsu exposed her to the world, the less he bragged or hinted that he was protecting something more valuable, the less interesting she would seem.
And he didn't want that.
He found the brat, her gift was his now.
With the right guidance, she can become an asset to his cause, whatever that might be. She swallowed every word he said already; curses, lies and sneers alike. Despite her huffing and whining, she was learning cues and was starting to dip her toes into the shadows of the world. She even dared try to manipulate him into giving her his slice of tiramisu by offering a wine bottle from the table that he could easily steal from her in seconds.
Ridiculous brat.
But if he plays his cards right and keeps her around long enough once her skills have bloomed and honed, then she could be a wildcard who answered to no one but him. And maybe she can even make his flames purer.
"And then we went on an adventure! And he was like bam! Shoot! And Floosh! And it was so cool! And, and he had a magical hat that went sploosh!" The brat waved her arms as she regaled him yet again with a fantasy of her fighting evil with a superhero she dreamt about. Maybe. He wasn't listening. He didn't care, not even when the brat stared at him and tilted her head without blinking like a cat assessing its prey. "Why don't you wear a hat?"
"Hats are for trash"
"I don't want to be trash" She wrinkled her nose in disgust before stating: "I want a gun"
"No"
"But I want to protect mamma from the bad guys!"
"Where's your dagger?"
"...I don't know?"
She says she wants to protect, and yet the brat sometimes forgets to bring the dagger with her.
Stupid, foolish idiot. He has plans for her, but he also doesn't want to raise the brat. She wasn't his pet, it was not his responsibility to take care of her, that task fell to others.
The fucking shark has been hovering around lately as if teaching the brat how to slice someone will earn him points into becoming his guardian. Fucking loser. Xanxus was only entertaining his presence for the single fact that fucking Tyr himself had taken an interest in him. For a rookie hitman to be on the radar of the Varia leader meant either a growing threat or a fish to poach.
And it was amusing watching the loud annoyance lose to her whims because teaching the brat how to stab someone was like teaching a lion how to dance; dangerous and unpredictable. And it always ended with the shark running after her to stop her from doing this and that instead of gutting the straw dummies they had prepared before.
Stubborn, she refused to be tamed once she made up her mind on something.
Huh... maybe she was taking after him.
"Always carry a weapon, brat" He grunted, pouring himself another drink and settling back on his chair. There, he warned her. If she didn't listen, then that would be on her.
"I know! I'll be back!" She jumped from her chair, those ridiculous fairy wings on her back almost knocking the teapot as she moved. She barely took three steps before pausing and turning towards him with a suspicious pout and gave him a weak glare "Don't move!"
She ordered before scurrying back inside in search of her weapon.
Fucking ridiculous.
Where did she even find it? And why were her parents letting the idiot wave it around like a wooden stick? It was a miracle she hadn't cut a finger or poked her eye out with how she wielded that thing. No wonder it stressed the shark annoyance every time she drew it.
Whatever, not his fucking place.
As the silence of the Villa greeted him, his previous thoughts returned and he found grief still eluding him. Everyone processes loss differently, his father had grimly said, patting his shoulders that morning before Xanxus made his escape. But it didn't feel like a loss, there was no pain, there was no anger. There was nothing, really, not even happiness. And that was fine.
It gives him a clear head to plan.
Signora Nana was preparing lunch, she had greeted him warmly as a recurrent guest on the Villa, and never once had she asked too many questions nor had he felt the presence of bodyguards; which fell to the conclusion that Iemitsu did not know about him corrupting his daughter, which was another spectacular disaster waiting to be unleashed.
"Ara, are you having a tea party?"
He aimed his gun at the old lady cloaked in mist flames.
A tutor, supposed to teach the brat Italian.
A stranger, intruding on his territory.
"Why is a Mist fucker lurking around here?"
"You're sharp, boy. That's good"
Reality rippled around them like water sliding down his eyes, and where once a lady with grey hair stood now a tiny, cloaked baby floating in the air. The sight should have been absurd if it weren't for the indigo pacifier they carried.
Xanxus has heard tales he doesn't care to remember. But he knows, anyone in the Mafia knows that colourful pacifiers were a symbol above any hierarchy. Demons of the underworld, shadows of the realm, and two were under the service of Vongola, under fucking Iemitsu's command, to be precise.
For an unregistered one to be here…
"The fuck are you here for?"
"I heard a calling"
Well.
Well.
He reconsidered shooting and eyed the gloomy baby floating over the table set. Was this to be his life? Meeting tiny creatures promising power on a silver platter? It truly was a gift he couldn't refuse. He will turn these scraps into a banquet worthy of a King. His flames reached out, testing, eager, greedy— and were met by a crystal fort.
"I didn't come here for you, boy" The baby grumbled, cementing their fates. "I came for her"
"The brat?"
"Mine"
Xanxus paused.
Breathed.
And the world kept spinning.
"She's a brat"
"She's a Sky"
"She's weak!"
His flames burned whether to protect her from the clutches of a greedy monster or infuriated that he wasn't chosen by the strongest Mist around.
"Perhaps" Mammon grumbled, munching on a cookie, unperturbed by his anger and roaring flames trying to stake a right to their soul that was full and not ready to be claimed yet. Perhaps it was a mistake, indulging in this newfound curiosity. But they were here now, the call louder and clearer than before. And they wanted. "A Sky always burns brighter when it's fueled by its elements. Don't mess with her Fate, she belongs"
He was sick tired of people telling him he wasn't deserving of his own Fate. He just swore he wouldn't stand by and let life do what it wanted. He was going to take charge, no matter the odds. Life had given him the worst hand, bastard son being born in the streets, a spare, not even a candidate for Vongola's throne. But he will make it. He will take it, starting by snarling at fate in the face.
Xanxus aimed and fired.
.
.
.
In the shadows, lurking from the one considered the strongest Mist user in the world, Daemon stilled and listened.
"Well" He thought with a frown at the implication of those words "This changes nothing"
.
.
.
It changed everything
.
.
.
Whatever your mind is screaming about, yes, it's true. (◡‿◡✿)
Don't give spoilers in the other fic, in case people are not reading this story. I don't know how many chapters I'll write, but I'll introduce all the important characters and key moments. I don't want to rush this but I feel like reading this will make reading The Sky that Bonds with new eyes and go 'Aha!' so, I'll try my best to update this one sooner.
Also, I did some calculations for this fic. I might be wrong, but for the sake of this story, Vongola was founded around the 19th century, and timeline-wise, it's 200 years before the starting arc. So that would be: PRIMO 1820s - DECIMO 2020s starting generations.
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Daemon & Xanxus: listen brat, don't tell anyone about me. It's a secret. I'll kill you if you tell. You want to be strong? Then listen to me. I will train you by making you cry and use a weapon you don't like, but you will survive and your power will be mine.
Tsunayuuki, sparkles and joy: okay!
Daemon & Xanxus: ... must… resist… protect…
7 years later
Reborn: Dame-Tsuna
Tsuna, kicking and screaming: NO! Abort! Abort! Abort!