Chapter Text
15: 2017→
Byakuran’s Shadow Self was a bastard.
He was a gimmick boss. He actually had a weakness, but taking advantage of that weakness was a sucker bet, of sorts, as it turned out. It was odd enough to begin with that there was any weakness at all in a boss, at least based on what they had already encountered in Palaces.
He was weak to Fire, strong to Wind, so they hit him with [Inferno]. It hurt him, but it also made him glow a little. His outline became fuzzy. The more his weakness was hit, the stronger the glow, until he literally split into two copies of his Shadow Self.
And his weakness and strength changed. Or rather, theirs.
“Okay, what the hell?” Ken said. “Now there’s two of ’im, and his stuff changed. He’s strong to Psy and weak to Ice.”
“And they’re both at full health,” Haru said. “But their max health is lower? Is Haru seeing this right?”
“I think you are,” he said, frowning. “So either there’s a gimmick we need to figure out, or we’re in this fight for a long, long time if they’re gonna keep splitting. By the way, Haru?”
“Uh huh?”
“Can you see if you can come up with a better symbol for Vongola? Because the one I saw was so embarrassing.”
Mukuro was kind enough to project a copy right out of his brain so Haru could see what he meant. She responded by making an awful noise.
“Yes, Haru will do her best. That is embarrassing.”
Experimentation showed that if they ignored the weakness, they could do damage, but the Shadow Self would still split.
“Then we use the strength?” Tetsuya said. “It’s the only thing left?”
“And I get the feeling if we use AOE attacks, they’ll all split,” Shoichi said from the back. “So we try—we have a couple of things to try. One person attacks one shadow’s strength, and everyone else goes normal, the weakness or healing. Ignore the other Shadow Self copies? Or an AOE strength followed by normal?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then nodded. “Okay, we concentrate on the rightmost shadow. Kyōya, hit it with a Nuclear attack. I and Haru can hit it with Electric. Plus Ken on healing. If it goes down, same for the next one. Between one healer plus our accessories it should be enough to keep ahead of the damage they’re dealing.”
“And you’ll refresh your shield when it goes down,” Spanner said.
“Yup.”
That strategy actually worked, which made the battle into a mostly straight slog rather than confusion and frustration. Once the last Shadow Self copy was defeated, once it splashed back to Byakuran, they spent a good hour lecturing the man’s cognitive self, even learning that the local Shoichi was working for him, but was really on the local Tsuna’s side, and that the local Tsuna wasn’t even dead, just held in suspended animation.
That Byakuran could see sideways into other realities and had used what he’d learned there to decimate the opposition, to seduce powerful flame users to his side by “fixing” their lives, and that he wanted the Vongola rings because those, along with the Mare rings and the pacifiers were the Tri-ni-sette and part of what kept their world in existence, and together could be used to—according to him, anyway—rewrite reality to his specifications.
Hell, that the local Spanner was working for Byakuran, which upset his Spanner quite a bit, never mind just how weirded out his Shoichi was.
Also, much to Reborn’s dismay, that Arcobaleno came with an expiration date, and he was going to die once enough of his flames had been drained from him, once he could no longer produce more than was taken.
The second Byakuran’s cognitive self zipped off as a sphere of white they stole his treasure and booked it, returning to their base-within-a-base shortly before midnight.
Tsuna heaved an almighty sigh before leading everyone to the kitchen to rustle up a snack before bed.
“Now we just have to get to that machine to get back,” Reborn said. “They can figure out the rest on their own.”
Tsuna noted that Reborn was looking rather irritated, most likely due to knowing he had a surprise expiration date. They needed to see if they could figure out a solution, something to save the man, and his comrades. They did not deserve to be used as unwitting, unwilling batteries, enslaved in toddler form to die ignoble deaths.
They reappeared, once the local Shoichi pushed the big red button (how cliché!), right where they’d left from. Dino and his men gawked at them uncomprehendingly.
Tsuna went to pick himself up off the ground, but paused when Akira and Fūtaba each extended a hand to help him up. He smiled softly and took their hands, accepting their decision to join his family.
The rest of the summer break went easily. Dino and his men never did get an explanation as to why they’d briefly vanished and reappeared as if dropped. Fūtaba had to finish her degree, which meant both she and Akira returned to Kyoto. They were back as often as possible, though. As it was a train ride of about an hour and a half, it wasn’t a real burden for them to show up regularly.
Akira needed outside training. He was fantastic inside, but outside he needed a lot of work. Fūtaba had gone over the manor’s security and immediately set to work in her spare time to improve and upgrade everything, passing everything through Shoichi, Spanner, and Hayato, so they were all on the same page.
Poor Akira got used to being kicked around on the sparring grounds, but he was slowly getting better. He was doing fairly well in paintball.
And of course, Flu Season was ruthlessly exploited to get those lagging behind up to max level inside, and therefore with the strongest passive buffs outside from their Personas.
“Our passports are ready,” Fūtaba told them during one of their visits.
It was something of an advantage that the two were already adults. Tsuna just wasn’t sure how Fūtaba’s adoptive father would react to her picking up and moving to Italy. She had gotten her father’s recipes for curry, though, which Tsuna had happily incorporated into their menu. And recommendations on coffee, which only Reborn cared about. But Akira was well versed in making coffee and curry, so he joined the kitchen crew when he was there.
“Also, we’re getting married.”
Tsuna’s eyes went wide, then he grinned. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” they both murmured even as more of the family chimed in.
“You two…” Akira trailed off.
“We cheated,” he said. “Our visit to Italy. I was sixteen by then, which is old enough, and Dino-nii had a judge who ruled the way we wanted, so we got married over there. But we’ll get married again once we’re there after I graduate. There are concerns that a certain fossil will try to backseat drive and distract me with a hand-picked wife so I can be a good stud and breed some heirs.”
“Yeah, not happening,” Ken said.
“I’m all for booting the fossil out the second Tsuna takes over,” Hayato said, “him and his men. I didn’t at first, but I’d only known how good Vongola was up until then. Wasn’t until Tsuna laid it out for me, how incompetent they are, that I agreed. They have to go, they can’t be whispering in the background, trying to puppet our Sky.”
“And the defect has to go.”
“You mentioned that,” Akira said. “Just not what.”
Tsuna heaved a sigh. “Flames sealed, so he can’t lash out or subvert people. Memories wiped, fertility removed. Chucked into long-term care. Or killed. Not fond of the idea of being a kin-slayer, but he’s so mentally messed up. He’s… He a ruined Sky, a narcissist? He’s a danger, can’t be trusted. Killing him would be best, even I can admit that.”
He flailed. “I’ve never even killed someone. Well, not directly. Reborn says I’m too soft.”
“You are too soft,” Reborn said.
He rolled his eyes. “I offered to start with Bianchi, Reborn! You said no.”
Reborn rolled his eyes right back.
“She tried to poison me, Reborn. You said no, I couldn’t kill her.”
“Shut up, brat.”
Winter break rolled around, which saw them all on a plane to Italy, to go visit Dino. Dino was surprised to see Akira and Fūtaba, but nodded easily when informed they had joined Tsuna’s family.
“Just, you know, don’t go for a tertiary set?” Dino said. “You’ll give me a complex.”
Tsuna laughed at him. “We’ll do touristy things again, but I would like to sit with you like last time, go over things.”
“Yep, we can do that. Same as before. No details, but enough for you to get how things go, or can go. And of course, you can also train while you’re here. No one is going to look twice if that’s physical or flames.”
He could already hear Chikusa in the background talking about teaching Akira about pulling moisture from the air to condense into needles or shards of ice to fling at people. They didn’t have Tsuna’s advantages, so they had to get creative. Akira used a dagger, so he needed longer-range attacks if he wasn’t using a gun.
Tsuna managed to get Kyōya to do another gondola ride, look the other way when he purchased a bunch of cookbooks, and take a number of walks just to enjoy the scenery, both in the city, and back north in the countryside around Treviso where Dino’s property was.
Akira had been out of Japan before, but he had gone to the US, to Hawaii, where his companions had provided entertainment by striking out attempting to chat up girls there. He did not recall Fūtaba having ever left Japan, not being a shut-in the way she’d been for so long.
Either way, she and Akira were acting like they were on a honeymoon. And, given they had married not long after the announcement (in a very simple ceremony), they kind of were.
They had finally gotten the whole of the story of the Phantom Thieves, though the names of the others in the group were still couched as code names. That was fine. The others were not there to consent to their names being known.
Poor Queen, faced with the threat of having to pay off a large debt via prostitution, due to blackmail. Poor students, being abused physically, mentally, and sexually, to the point that one girl had tried to kill herself. Poor Fox, taken in not out of goodwill, instead used by his mentor for his art and passion, passed off as his mentor’s work. Noir, used as a political bargaining chip by her father, meant for a loveless marriage as a sexual plaything. Even Crow, used as an assassin and abused by his own father, twisted into a villain, and ultimately killed before he could personally enact his revenge.
They had all mostly gone their own ways afterward. Skull to a school closer to a physical rehabilitation facility, for his leg, so he could start running competitively again. Queen and Noir to university nowhere near Tokyo. Panther overseas for her final year of high school. Fox stayed at his school, and Mona disappeared with the destruction of that Mementos, but at least they got to say good-bye.
Their whole journey in some ways was an analogue to Byakuran’s attempts at world control.
Akira and Fūtaba took a room in the family wing of the manor come March, their family, such as it was, completed. It also meant Akira got a whole lot more in the way of regular training.
“I think I should learn at least basic self-defense,” Fūtaba said at dinner the night of their arrival.
He nodded. “We can throw you into the deep end with Kyōya, or start you off with Nagi and Haru.”
Fūtaba contemplated that for a while. “Everyone else was tossed into the deep end.”
“Yup.”
He would be starting his final year of high school soon enough, which meant they had a mere year left to prepare for the coming move and his exciting new occupation as a crime boss.
“Everyone being tossed into the deep end meant we learned quickly enough not to succumb to a blind panic at the thought of facing the demon of Namimori, which means we’re less likely to panic when faced with an unknown, no matter how frightening they may seem.”
Fūtaba nodded. “And I did see that Kyōya-san taught Akira, not just…”
Kyōya nodded.
“I’ll try that first, though I won’t say no to Haru-chan and Nagi-chan taking me in hand.”
He fully expected Fūtaba to spend most of her time welded to a computer, on security and intel, on hacking, electronic ways of protecting their family. But yeah, learning how to defend herself? Always a good thing.
“So, these pacifiers,” he said.
Reborn scowled.
“So, like, they’re making like you’re batteries, draining the Arcobaleno dry of flames—and possibly life force at the end—to fuel … what?” Ken said.
“Byakuran said something about the Tri-ni-sette keeping the world in existence or balance or something,” Hayato said.
“Flames being a fundamental of our world. A foundation. Somehow.”
“Yeah, okay,” Spanner said, “but can we come up with an alternative that still feeds this whatever without using people?”
“Cloud Flames propagate,” Kyōya said.
He blinked at his husband. “Huh…”
“We can tentatively assume that the Arcobaleno are still safe for the next decade,” Haru said. “If we can use what happened just recently as any indication.”
“We have time,” Shoichi said. “We figure out some other kind of—some substitute for those pacifiers?”
Tsuna pulled the ring out from under his shirt and sent some Sky Flames into it, basically asking, “Do you have any information about this?”
What he got back was cluelessness.
“Great, they don’t know anything,” he said, tucking the ring away. “Wonderful.”
“Just a thought,” Akira said, “but someone has to be in charge of whatever this is.”
Reborn scowled again, but that time he spoke. “Checker Face. The Man in the Iron Hat.” Reborn went on to explain about the man just randomly showing up in his flat one evening. His hat, tie, gloves, the toe-caps on his shoes, and part of his face all bore a checkerboard pattern of black and white. Part of his hat and the demi-mask he wore were curved in the suggestion of flames, and he had with him a clear pacifier.
“ ‘I am here to gather the world’s strongest seven!’ the man said. ‘I Prescelti Sette.’ I repeated that term, and he replied, ‘That’s correct.’ He offered a job, basically, said the remuneration was considerable, but that first he’d like us all to meet. Gave me a map, directions, a time and day. When I got there I saw them waiting. Lal, Verde, Fon, Skull, Viper, and Luce. Long story short, we did a number of jobs together, all of them interesting and challenging.
“Yeah, the money was great. But then we had one last job. It was up on a mountain. We were all very full of ourselves, so very confident, so proud of how good we were. Never even crossed my mind to wonder why we had to climb a mountain. And up there, at the top? We were cursed. A blinding light later and we were like this, chained by these pacifiers.”
He frowned. “Lal?”
“Colonnello had been following her. They used to be in COMSUBIN together. She trained him. He’s in love with her. He followed us up the mountain, became alarmed, and tried to get her out of the way. He took the full curse, she was just… Chibified. Damaged. She can’t use her Rain Flames now, not without hurting herself. Just Mist and Cloud.”
“Hence your confusion and ours to see the other Lal as an adult.”
Reborn nodded. “We had no idea why it happened, what purpose it served. Just, we’ve been in these forms ever since. When Luce died her pacifier passed on to her daughter, Aria. And as we saw in that future, when Aria died it went to Yuni.”
“So the holders of the Sky Pacifier die early,” Shoichi said. “Are they buffering everyone else?”
Reborn shrugged. “Possibly. Circumstantially, it makes sense to think so.”
“I’m going to say something that’s possibly insane,” Mukuro said, “but what about the Vindice?”
“How long have they been around?” Nagi asked.
“Forever, seemingly,” Reborn said, looking thoughtful. Reborn was clearly feeling fired up because he whipped out his phone, made a call, and started talking to … someone.
The next thing Tsuna knew a portal from Yomi opened into the room and out popped (he presumed) actual Vindice. One was very tall, black cloak, a white feathered fur collar, a cravat (of all things), bandages on his face with only his eyes peering out, more bandages on his top hat, white gloves, rings, and a chain in his hand. His hair was long, dark, and wildly wavy.
On his shoulder was a chibi-Vindice, face bandaged (with no eyes showing), hat bandaged, and a clear pacifier on display.
“Speak,” said the chibi.
It was like Reborn had ordered up a horror show on-demand delivery. The chibi’s voice was smooth, accented charisma underlaid with tortured shrieks of the damned.
Shoichi, clutching his stomach, raised a hand briefly and said, “May we know your names?”
The chibi briefly angled his head that way, then repeated, “Speak.”
‘Really, Shoichi, it’s not the done thing to ask for names if you haven’t introduced yourself first,’ he thought.
“Hello,” he said. “I am Hibari Tsunayoshi. We have been discussing the Arcobaleno issue, that they are essentially living batteries. Something about keeping the world going, however that works. The Vindice have been around, certainly for as long as Reborn knows of. We had hoped that you would have information which would help us to hopefully find another way, a substitute for those pacifiers. It’s bad enough we have to wear the Vongola rings, which we now know are a part of the Tri-ni-sette and leeching off us.
“And I even think that’s because of the imprints inside them, that they wouldn’t work for anyone but an actual Sky of the blood and their guardians. The pacifiers, though. You’ve seen so much, presumably. The only thing that’s been… That Cloud Flames propagate was mentioned? But containers, we have no idea. Or even if a self-sustaining system could be created using Cloud Flames to propagate enough or more to feed the system…” He trailed off uncomfortably.
The chibi eyed each person in the room in turn, then angled back to Tsuna. “It is interesting you would contact us with this issue. I am Bermuda, with me is Jager. We were just recently contacted by Byakuran di Gesso regarding the issue of the Arcobaleno Curse.”
His brow went up as he leaned forward.
“He claims to have been contacted by an external party. Aria di Giglio Nero also contacted us, on the same issue. They were both provided plans which are said to be the answer to the Arcobaleno Curse. We will contact Talbot for his projected part in this endeavor. What is necessary beyond that is time, funding, and flames.”
“How can we help? We have a fair amount of funds. We can help with, what, priming the new…? Reborn may be kind of an asshole, but I’ve grown rather fond of him. I’d like to help him.”
“Not the others?” Bermuda asked.
He shrugged. “Okay, Fon-san. I like him. I’ve sort of met Lal? Mammon. Haven’t met the others, but there’s no reason not to help them. Besides, self-interest. Who is to say we wouldn’t be targeted next? It’s a chance to proactively protect my loved ones.”
Bermuda nodded. “We will be in touch when you can participate.”
A second later another portal opened and the two of them vanished through it just before it collapsed.
He exhaled heavily. “That went well?”
“An external party?” Tetsuya said. “What does that mean?”
“Byakuran, he said. He can see sideways,” Fūtaba said. “A different Byakuran looked sideways, found a way to push information over rather than take it?”
“Guess it doesn’t matter if the idea is sound and it works, right?” Hayato said.
“For the time being, we keep training,” he said. “We keep learning mafia stuff.”
When summer break rolled around Bermuda contacted them. He just portaled in on Jager’s shoulder again, to their workroom, after a text message to Reborn in warning. There was an impromptu trip to Italy (via portal) for everyone, a transfer of funds (Fūtaba took care of their share, after being shown the breakdown of costs for the system, though how they had internet in a cave that deep he just didn’t know), and lots of flame channeling.
He had no clue how the system worked, and didn’t care. He just cared that it did, that Checker Face was on board with this adjustment to the world-supporting, world-balancing system (again, however that worked), and the Arcobaleno were no longer in danger of being sucked dry (and, possibly, going by Bermuda’s clear pacifier, turned into Vindice) and dying (and if the Vindice weren’t undead, he’d eat his socks—well, he’d consider it, at least).
Reborn looked like the sun had just dawned after an entire Age of Darkness when the pacifier around his neck just fell off. Well, all the Arcobaleno present had that look when theirs just fell off.
Checker Face scooped those all up and vanished in a flicker of stupidly powerful Mist Flames. Bermuda gave off an air of immense satisfaction, as if he had gotten one over on Checker Face, and again, Tsuna just didn’t care. Bermuda and the Vindice deserved to feel that way? Checker Face had used them as living batteries, so if they felt as they clearly did now, as the new administrators of the system? More power to them.
Bermuda did snap out of it long enough to provide a portal so they could all go home, but not before Tsuna remembered a question that had come up ages ago.
“Uh, Bermuda-san? Could I trouble you for a moment?”
“Hibari.”
“The question came up some time ago, after any number of kidnappers and assassins came after me. I figured out how to do something we’re calling Zero Point Breakthrough, to literally freeze people like that, but I’ve not done so because we just weren’t sure how the Vindice would react. There’s also the issue of whether we should just be directly killing them, calling on you, and if you’d even want them in that condition, because it could come back to bite us all in the ass later. A warehouse of frozen-in-time bodies sounds good until you realize it is possible to unfreeze them…”
Bermuda nodded slowly after a long pause. “You have two options, Hibari Tsunayoshi. You can kill your attackers and dispose of the corpses. Or, if they are numerous, you could use your technique and then call us. So long as those attacking you were … unfrozen … prior to transport to cells here, and a full report of the circumstances given.”
“And if I thought, if my intuition chimed in, that maybe cooling off in a cell would be a better option than death…” He nodded. “All right, thank you. That helps to determine my future actions.”
Bermuda slanted his head. He couldn’t even call it tilting; it was definitely slanting. “And what have you done with them to this point, Hibari Tsunayoshi?”
“It depends. Or rather, evolved. The first one was turned over to the police, because we were just kids. I was barely eleven at the time. After that? Beat them unconscious, strip them of anything valuable, and leave them to live or die on the mountain, in the wilderness. If a bear ate them, then, oh well. Some, however, were knocked out, stripped down, their memories wiped as much as ten years, and compelled to return to wherever they came from.”
Bermuda nodded, then opened a portal for them, ending that line of inquiry.
Once they were home he let out a sigh. “That was mildly terrifying. Just, kind of a shame you didn’t regain adult form, Reborn.”
Reborn scowled.
“You’ll have to go through puberty again,” Ken said, grinning.
Nagi furrowed her brow, clearly trying for solemnity over laughing. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Again.”
“Does this mean Reborn has a new birthday?” Mukuro said. “That’s he’s just been … reborn?”
“You’re all brats,” Reborn muttered.
Winter rolled around, and with it, a decrease in temperature and winter break. He was almost done with high school. At one point in his life he would never have expected to live so long and would likely have panicked over the idea of what to do next. Realistically, he would have ended up dead in a ditch because of the seal. Manual labor would have likely been beyond him, and he would have had to resort to a cheat sheet to do something even so simple as be a cashier in a shop.
Either way, it meant exams were coming up again, his final set, and that meant mafia stuff took a back seat to studying for his classes. Fūtaba had already done the work on finding him online stuff so he could study business administration, which was kind of her.
Kyōya even checked over his work so he could give him pointers if necessary.
What the hell he was going to do with a high school diploma was beyond him. He fully expected to be rich beyond the dreams of avarice though channels outside Vongola, and rich people could generally do what they wanted. They already were rich. (And thank you, offshore accounts.)
That was the biggest blessing of the interface. Anything they earned inside just sorta sat there in limbo until they wanted to use it, so there had been nothing stopping them from literally “withdrawing” huge amounts of money and using it to create legitimate accounts in a place where Japan couldn’t get its grubby, tax-hungry mitts on. There was no connection whatsoever to Vongola, so they had clean money to start legitimate businesses with, once they were in a position to.
Or buy a new gaming console, whatever.
Investment banking he would leave to a combination of his intuition and Fūtaba’s computer skills. Shoichi could do it, but he was more of an inventor type. Spanner was all about inventions, and Hayato had some knowledge, but he was, again, more of an inventor type.
The very fact that he wasn’t worried about how well he would do made taking the exams that much simpler and less anxiety-inducing. Sure, Reborn might get whiffy if he didn’t pull top grades, but what was he going to do about it? Scold him? Stare disapprovingly? Somehow come up with an argument which highlighted how his less-than-perfect (possible) grade in Japanese Literature would affect his life as the don of the most powerful Italian crime family?
He had not and continued not bringing up the fact that there had yet to be an inheritance ceremony. Well, he did send a message to Haru via ghosting relay about them probably being subjected to Italian fashion for that (as it looked like it would wait until they moved), which meant her stellar efforts in protective, traditional formal wear had gone to something of a waste.
Her response, which arrived via ghosting relay, simply indicated she had learned a lot in the process, and could apply it to Western formal wear instead.
Tsuna used the relay because he didn’t want Reborn getting ideas, which might give the fossil ideas, and if they could hold off on the ceremony (why did they need one?) until they got to Italy, then there would not be yet more assassins trolling into Namimori. They’d had enough of those over the years as it was.
Reborn slapped a printout onto the workroom table one day and said, “The itinerary.”
“So it’s already been arranged?” he said unhappily.
“Yes. So you lot all need to decide what you’re bringing with you. And possibly what you plan to have shipped. With as much money as I know you’re hiding, you can always buy duplicates, I suppose. We will be taking the Vongola jet out of Kobe. There is a weight limit, which is why some things will have to be shipped if you take too much.”
He heaved a sigh. “So, what, two suitcases each?”
“That sounds about right.”
“And we’ll probably be subjected to a tailor on that end anyway.”
Reborn nodded.
“You do realize that people will make the connection between the site going down and us leaving, right?” Tetsuya said.
“Can’t be helped. Well, unless we find a Mementos entrance very nearby and it can produce Shadow Selves for people in Namimori. I’m not going to bet on it. And I need to go shopping for casual clothing, and some traditional stuff, prior to us packing. Anyone bitching about me wearing yukata will get shot in the face.”
The plane was nice. Rather ostentatious, actually. All they had to do was sit there. Watch in-flight entertainment (any movie they wanted), listen to music, talk, eat, sleep, bitch about the expected jetlag, the accommodations they could expect, the lack of decent food, fossils who should have been put to pasture decades ago… The cat was in a roomy carrier, with a built-in litter box, plus food and water dishes.
When they did arrive it was to see a limousine that looked like an actual limo had a baby with a bus of some kind. Either way, it was big enough to hold all of them, and apparently made by Hummer. Tsuna didn’t doubt for a moment it was heavily modified, bullet-proof, flame-proof, and anything-they-could-think-of-proof.
Their luggage was being brought in a separate vehicle—which did not exactly make Tsuna happy—and they were driven off from the airport after an only cursory check by Customs. The interior of the vehicle was a bit flashy for his tastes. Why was there neon? And a bar?
The Iron Fort was an enormous series of connecting buildings of grey, with a blue roof. He could see that there was a separate building, a cube almost, in the interior of the outer structures. Two towers stood for the exterior, at opposite corners. Lookouts? He was honestly a little surprised the sharply-inclined roofs (in a country where snow was not the norm?) were blue rather than orange. Crenelations covered the tops of the towers, a smaller tower on one long side, and the perimeter of the central cube.
Tsuna expected that the actual workings of the famiglia were in that cube, along with living quarters. Minions might be on the exterior, but actual family would, should, be in the more protected center. He was right. His family was given rooms on the second floor of the cube, an entire half of the level.
It meant, because the fossil had no idea Tsuna and Kyōya were married, that it was Tetsuya on his own, with everyone else doubled up. There was no proper kitchen, which irritated him, but there was a refrigerator in a room off the common area, and certain appliances.
Mukuro and Nagi had eventually figured out how to teleport themselves, others, things, so what was to say they couldn’t just bring in a stove? Or an electric cooktop?
He frowned and set to unpacking his things in the room meant for him, while Kyōya unpacked his. At least there was plenty of storage.
There was a seven hour time difference—they had gained time—which meant they would be going to bed “early” to try to make up for it, just not too “early”. The sooner they adjusted the better.
Already waiting, once he exited back to the common room, was a stack of paperwork showing their citizenship in Italy, so they did not have to worry about that. No one could boot them out of the country because a visa ran out or whatever.
Mukuro and Nagi shot a look his way, along with Mukuro inserting, ‘Already gone over quite a bit here, looking for spies. Shoichi and Fūtaba have checked for electronic spies. They’ve also put up jammers to disrupt attempts.’
He nodded.
‘In addition, we’re going to anchor the temporary protections we used in that alternate reality. Stuff we can move later.’
‘Because once the fossil and his twits are gone, we may move rooms?’
Mukuro nodded.
There was a landline in the common area, with instructions on how to call for meals if they were not in the mood to head to the dining room, housekeeping, and so forth. Yeah, because there was nothing resembling a washing machine, and they couldn’t very well hang clothes to dry.
“I may learn to appreciate other people handling certain things given demands on time, but I dislike right now the removal of my options, the feeling of being boxed in,” he muttered. The very idea of some stranger washing his personal items? Ew.
Kyōya scowled.
For someone who had spent a good part of his life handling everything on his own? Yeah, it must feel like a cage.
A knock came at the outer door, which caused all of them to exchange looks. Tetsuya went to answer it, revealing a fairly young man with bi-coloured hair. The back was a warm brown fading to a pale, almost white blond at the front. He was dressed in a standard suit, though it was a pale blue (why?) over a black shirt with a white tie.
“Hello,” the man said once let in. “I’m Ganauche III, Lightning Guardian. If you’re feeling up for it, I’m here to escort you all to dinner with Timoteo and the others.”
Tsuna leaned, and relaxed slightly. This one might be with the fossil, but he did not feel like a bad person, and Tsuna could not sense any deception. He nodded and moved toward the door, his family joining him.
Dinner, in a room on the ground floor of the central cube, was awkward and uncomfortable. The table itself looked like it belonged in a conference room and had been hastily procured in order to accommodate so many people at one meal, rather than dining in one of the exterior structures (and in theory meant for meetings over a meal with outsiders).
Timoteo bore a kindly persona. Coyote Nougat, Storm, looked like a fossil himself, unyielding façade likely to crack if emotion was shown. Brabanter Schnitten, Rain, was a slightly younger looking fossil who looked stoic. Visconti, Cloud, was yet another fossil with a blank expression. Croquant Bouche, Mist, was just plain strange, and looked like he should be in a band with Levi. Nie Brow Jr, Sun, was perhaps in his forties? He certainly looked younger, and the Jr appellation was a clue. And then Ganauche III, Lightning, the youngest.
Funny, that, a Lightning so young. Did that mean the previous two had died protecting Timoteo? Because Lightnings were supposed to be a bulwark and probably die young in defense of their Sky?
Why were these poor people mostly named after sweets?
“We should talk about the Inheritance Ceremony,” Timoteo said, then began explaining.
The whole thing sounded boring and stupid to Tsuna. People from allied famiglie would show up, dressed in their finest, to watch some ceremonial announcement and passing of some tradition (what, precisely, that was was not explained), and then mingling with drinks and snacks.
“And of course, we shall bring in the tailors to see that you are all properly outfitted, not just for that, but for general use,” Timoteo said, smiling like that was something to be looked forward to.
“Of course, cousin,” he murmured blandly, which garnered him a number of odd looks from the Guardian set. He was tempted to scowl. Timoteo was not his grandfather, and nothing would make him call the man that. Tsuna descended from Giotto. Timoteo descended from Secondo, Giotto’s cousin.
And having seen Secondo inside the Vongola Sky Ring? He wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Xanxus was descended from him, as well, even if he was not Timoteo’s son.
That bunch was already giving them subtle looks, quite possibly because the vast majority of them were so clearly Japanese. Even Hayato was part Japanese. The only ones who clearly were not were Spanner and Ken, as even Chikusa showed signs of an Asian heritage.
‘I have to wonder how that will go down with the Alliance,’ he thought.
Mukuro smirked faintly. ‘They’ll just have to deal with it.’
All of his family smirked slightly, so it was plain that his Mists were echoing to everyone. Having secure communications was a great help.
Being measured and fitted was very low on his list of enjoyable activities, as it turned out. There was no such thing as trying clothing items on and calling it good enough. Everything was bespoke. All of them ended up with black suits of the finest quality and materials, shirts that felt like the softest clouds against their skin, black leather shoes, ties… The women categorically demanded trousers, with skirts as an afterthought, as well as stylish boots to go with the odd pair of heels.
It took what felt like forever for everything to be finalized and delivered
The ceremony was in a massive hall external to the Iron Fort.
The Arcobaleno showing up was interesting, certainly. The defect was not interesting, but expected. He kept wailing in the background about his “little tuna-fish” being all grown up and so manly, and it was all Tsuna could do not to make him into a scorch-mark on the hardwood floor.
Dino-nii and his men were present, which was comforting. Tsuna and his family spent most of their time prior to the actual ceremony with them. Xanxus and his men were also nearby, lending support.
“Were you able to…?” he murmured to Xanxus. They had gone back and forth every so often on the matter of a new External Advisor, but nothing had yet been finalized.
“Got one looking real good,” Xanxus said. “He’s been undergoing strenuous training in what that’d entail.”
“Good. And hopefully Lal could cover any issues while he’s settling in.” He wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation with the defect, but if he could just get that over with and behind him…
Ganauche III wandered over to give him a significant look, signaling that he was needed for the ceremony part of things.
He let out a soft sigh and nodded, then followed Ganauche III, his family forming up behind him, both as support and protection. With so many people in the hall it was stifling. His intuition was not bothered, but that did not make any of it more comfortable.
Some burly bald man walked up toward their little gathering. He bore a plush cushion upon which sat a wooden box. Presumably a container for the Vongola Sin the fossil had mentioned.
“Now we shall commence with the passing of the bottle, which is proof of the Vongola Don since Primo’s generation.”
Which made no damn sense. A bottle of blood allegedly containing the “memories” of battles they had faced? What had been going on in Giotto’s mind to come up with something so silly?
“It will be handed on to Vongola Decimo from Vongola Nono. …Now, the inheritance.”
Everyone in the room was treating the ceremony with gravest solemnity, which only made him want to roll his eyes.
Timoteo picked up the box and opened it, facing it toward Tsuna. Inside was an ornate vial of glass or crystal and metal. The contents were dark. “This I pass on to you, Decimo.”
As forewarned, Tsuna reached out to lift the vial (‘Sorry, this just isn’t a bottle,’ he thought.), inspect it, then set it back down before taking the box and closing it. The damn thing was too large to shove in his pocket, which left him standing there awkwardly as the crowd broke out into applause.
They had probably been coached? Most of the people in the room were not old enough to have witnessed the passing of Vongola’s Sin from Ottavo to Nono.
After letting them “celebrate”, Tsuna and his family strode off toward a side room so the box could be shifted back to their rooms at the Iron Fort via Mukuro teleporting it. And after a brief respite from the stifling environment out there, they returned to do more mingling.
Tsuna was interested to see a rather young group off in one corner; they didn’t look any older than his family. Timoteo captured his attention again and started the rounds, introducing him to various dons.
Kyōya stuck to his side like glue, his uncompromisingly cold expression making more than one person wary.
The young group turned out to be the Simon Famiglia, from Japan. Enma Kozato was their equivalent of a Sky. The young man seemed rather timid, though his second in command, Adelheid (was she part German?), was strong and forceful.
Everything went to shit when a large disturbance happened over the defect’s way. Tsuna had spotted him knocking back what looked like quite a few almonds while drinking coffee, acting like he was the proud papa of a son he had personally raised up to be an excellent don, and that he had no problem whatsoever that his eldest son was Vongola Decimo, and that flame-sealing incident had never happened, no, sir.
The second the disturbance registered his entire family was at his side, protecting him.
The defect started wheezing, collapsed, convulsed, and … died?
It was a little strange that he almost felt like extraordinarily-strong Mist Flames had just vanished after not being noticed at all. They did not feel like Mukuro or Nagi, and he would not have expected them to assassinate the man to begin with. Someone out there had done him a favor. Or they just despised the defect and wanted to make his death very public.
The Varia also gathered nearby in a loose perimeter.
“I think I’m going to need that new External Advisor sooner than expected,” he called to Xanxus, who absently nodded.
“What are you talking about?” Timoteo asked him.
Tsuna gave him a flat look. “You didn’t honestly think I’d keep that defect in charge of anything, did you? Of course I’d go looking for someone I could trust and could to do the job competently. Why would I want your External Advisor? He can’t possibly be any good at intelligence duties if three of your sons ended up murdered on his watch.”
Timoteo sputtered.
“He couldn’t even protect himself against an assassination attempt,” he said, eyeing the corpse. Well, he was fairly certain the man was dead. He felt such relief at the thought. “Well, bonus. Means I don’t have to go to the trouble of firing him. I wonder who managed it.”
Lussuria waltzed over to the body to check it over, shooing the idiots clustering around away, then gestured at some minions to haul it off. Luss returned to their part of the hall and said, “Very dead. Cremation, Tsu-kun?”
“Yes, please.”
Timoteo sputtered again. “Shouldn’t his wife have some say?”
Tsuna aimed another flat look his way. “You mean his mistress turned wife? The woman he was cheating on Nana with for years? The woman he had three illegitimate children with? That wife? My half-siblings are too young, and you’re a distant cousin at best. I’m the closest, most direct blood relative of age. What I say goes.”
“Already in the works,” Lussuria said.
“Thank you,” he said warmly. “Maybe we can scatter his ashes over an amusement park. That should cover all sides of the equation.”
“Perhaps,” Xanxus said. “But then any people visiting might be breathing him in. That’d be sick.”
He hummed. “A good point. I’m sure we’ll think of something.” A waste sanitation plant would be amusing, but again, that put him in other people’s way. “How about a biodegradable urn buried at the base of a tree on Death Mountain? Because the only other thought I have is launching the cremains into space.”
Timoteo looked very put out at his disrespect. Kozato, on the other hand, almost seemed amused at events, which was certainly interesting.
“It’s been a delight to meet you and your family, Kozato-san. Unfortunately, I do need to continue mingling.”
“Oh, by all means. Enjoy your day.”
He smiled. “I’m definitely in a good mood now,” he said before swanning off.
“We should talk about a wife for you,” Timoteo said one night, at a dinner that would have been rude to refuse.
They had spent the weeks following the ceremony on him learning the ins and outs of Vongola. It was a lot of work, and his family was taking everything and going over it themselves, trying to see where things could be streamlined, made more efficient, where problems had cropped up, and what could be fixed, who might need reprimands (words or permanent measures).
Tsuna and his family had learned along the way that the defect had died from a combination of cyanide (from apricot kernals, which, when dried, looked far too much like almonds) and ethylene glycol (used in antifreeze, and which was apparently sweet and easily enough hidden in food and drink, but when pure was odorless and colourless). Whoever had done it, the one with those Mist Flames, had probably mind-fucked Iemitsu to not register the wrong taste of his “almonds”.
“I think you need to mind your own business, Nono,” he said calmly. “You also need to not show just how blatantly hypocritical you are.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Coyote Nougat said in a growly tone.
His brow went up. “If a wife was honestly a concern—it’s not, not with three half-siblings in the wings,” he said to Timoteo, rather than Coyote, “you’d have ensured your sons got married and had heirs. If you had, I wouldn’t be sitting here as Vongola Decimo. I’m also not stupid enough to let someone else chose a spouse for me, some meek ornament meant to breed heirs on and otherwise treated as furniture, and probably in the hopes of distracting me from my duties so others can drive this famiglia from the backseat. Instead of stepping down in favor of one of your sons, you chose to remain don, did nothing to ensure the continuation of your line, and only after they were murdered did you turn to me, Giotto’s heir. I sincerely hope you weren’t expecting me to just nod complacently while you ruin my life more than you already have.”
Timoteo’s expression went a bit shrewd. “You seem to be doing just fine.”
“No thanks to you,” he replied. “Were you trying to kill me with that seal? Really, using a seal on an active Sky? Stifling my very soul. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you felt threatened by a five year old child.”
“…Reborn removed it.”
He scoffed. “You sent him to remove it, because you had no other choice. Don’t think that makes you special, or that I believe you feel remorse for what you did to an innocent child. You need to finish showing me what I need to know about Vongola and then go enjoy your retirement. Nothing from that point on is any of your business.”
Timoteo glanced at the Vongola Sky ring, pursed his lips, then went back to his meal.
The ring had transformed when he had passed his trial. It looked quite a bit different. It made him wonder if he had unlocked a lot more potential in the thing due to his stance, and that was why the fossil backed away from this confrontation.
Eventually Timoteo ran out of things he could “teach” Tsuna, and they all watched as the man and his guardians packed up their belongings and retired to one of the estates owned by Vongola.
That meant the actual Don’s area of the center cube was theirs now, but Tsuna refused to move until the entire set of rooms had been scrubbed down, disinfected (chemically and with Sun Flames), bedding and towels donated to charity and replaced with what they picked, sofas and chairs and mattresses moved to storage and replaced with brand new furniture, and a new coat of paint put up. Even the carpet was ripped out and replaced.
He wanted nothing that spoke of those people in his personal domain, and he didn’t scruple to spend Vongola funds on making that happen. He sure as hell did not want to sleep on the same mattress or bedding as the fossil, or make love to his husband on the same.
The extra suite in that section was turned into a game room, because at least the door could be closed to block out some of the sound.
His secondary guardians remained in the original set of rooms, but as both sets covered the second floor, it did not really matter in the end. They were still together, just slightly more spread out because people did not have to share rooms any longer. Well, Akira and Fūtaba excepted.
Actually running Vongola was a pain and a half. Far too many people eyeing them up with suspicion. They were too young, too callow, too inexperienced to be easily accepted. And that was just actual Vongola personnel, mafiosi. They were foreign, outsiders, never mind that he was of the blood.
Tsuna rolled his eyes a lot while sorting through the clusterfuck Timoteo had left behind. His primary guardians took on the various divisions within the famiglia (Kyōya and Mukuro in particular put the fear of kami in people, though Haru was no slouch when it came to violent responses to condescending behavior toward her), while he went through every bit of paperwork in existence and piled things up in order of urgency.
He asked Xanxus if he would get Mammon on finding rats, and liaised with the new External Advisor (who had taken the name Sorrel to fit in with the CEDEF theme) on their efforts at finding rats, both in Vongola and CEDEF. Those needed to be flushed before they looked outward. He didn’t think the Varia had any (not with Ottavio dead), but he knew Xanxus would make sure of it.
When winter crept closer and all the Italians were anticipating Christmas to come, they set to finding someone so he and Kyōya could renew their vows to each other, on the same date, this time both as adults, with another half dozen notarized copies to be squirreled away. Someone who wouldn’t notice if Mukuro added compulsions to his brain to never speak of the event, never note it down anywhere aside from official government channels.
Unfortunately…
“We need to hold a ball,” Hayato said.
“Yeah. We can use that same hall?”
“No reason not to. I imagine the Varia wouldn’t mind providing extra security.”
“Hopefully Xanxus will be willing to be front and center,” he said. “Wouldn’t want people to think we’re at odds. We’re not, but they haven’t necessarily gotten the picture.”
“We need to prepare for more than just assassination attempts,” Haru said. “Haru expects a lot of daughters to try to gain your hand.”
He rolled his eyes. “Top level people don’t normally dance.” Learning how had been an utter pain (rather embarrassing, too, not to mention him “publicly” learning the male role when he would prefer to be led around the floor by his husband). “Maybe we could make it a masquerade? We go in disguise, I get to dance with Kyōya, and only after we’re all satisfied do the masks come off and no more dancing for me.”
“My dear sister and I can certainly ensure you are not discovered before you wish to be,” Mukuro said.
“Any objections?” he asked. “At least that way we could have some fun prior to getting bogged down with security concerns, making nice with people, being threatening enough but not too threatening…”
“And spending far too much money on decorations and food,” Tetsuya said disapprovingly. “And a band? Do we have people in-house who could do that?”
“Have to check,” Haru said. “Haru will have to get very busy making appropriate gowns that will provide protection.”
“And tables?” he said. “Maybe… Maybe three curved ones. Center for us, one side angled out for the Varia, another on the other angled for CEDEF? Guest tables can be scattered around the edges. A band at the other end, or a sound system in a side room.” He whipped his laptop out and started looking for curved tables.
He got his dance. He got more than one. He and Kyōya were unrecognizable as themselves as they flowed around the hall, appearing to be in their own little world, but very much aware of potential hostiles. The silent judging looks at two men dancing was ignored.
There were plenty of women in attendance, all dressed up in their best, most expensive finery, all peering around subtly, looking to lay eyes on the Vongola Decimo, hoping to ensnare him in some fashion, either as a husband or for some other means.
He and Kyōya quietly disappeared into a side room when the band leader announced that dinner would begin shortly, and could people please move to their tables? His other family members likewise vanished from view.
Together they stripped away their disguises, which owed more to Mist than physical artifice. The wig was a relief to remove. He hated the thing. But his hair was fluffy and free and it had been necessary to cage it to help the illusion.
They re-entered the hall through a different room entirely, and took their places at the center head table. Kyōya sat to one side, Tetsuya to the other, as his original two family members. The others arrayed themselves as they pleased, not by primary or secondary status.
He nodded to Xanxus, who nodded back, then to Sorrel, who returned it.
The Arcobaleno were scattered. Lal Mirch was with CEDEF, Mammon with Xanxus, and the rest had a table for themselves, one closest to the head tables. The exception being Skull, as he was a part of Carcassa, a famiglia from the wrong side of things. Tsuna could not afford to be openly friendly, not unless the Cloud left that behind, switched to freelance or to a neutral or Alliance famiglia.
And how many would take him after being tainted with Carcassa’s stain?
According to Reborn Skull was a pervert (but that might be decades of blue balls at work), too loud, too much unlike a Cloud. Tsuna really wondered just how many people decided that based on Primo’s generation, too many emulating them until it became a behavioral cage. But Verde wasn’t anything like what he had heard of Lampo, so why didn’t he come in for grief?
He mentally shrugged and checked the food he was served, making sure there was nothing resembling poison or additives or other people’s flames included.
Mukuro and Nagi were ranging as they ate, keeping an eye on people’s minds, looking for hostiles. There were already a dozen or more contingency plans in case of attack. Maybe they’d get lucky and everyone would behave. There were plenty of weapons a person could get past metal detectors, even some guns.
Casual looks around the room while eating showed women upset, upset that he never seemed to notice them, upset that he had female guardians—three of them! Many of them had writ on their faces that they expected him to take one of those to wife.
The supposed holy matrimony of their faith reduced to negotiation and bargaining and mutual advantage. It was quite sad. He sincerely hoped Dino could marry for love, as he had.
‘I feel bad for those on security,’ he thought, his leg pressed against Kyōya’s under the cover of the table.
‘At least they don’t have to eat while being stared at incessantly. There are far too many herbivores in this room.’
‘Kami-sama, I really hate this. I am so not cut out to be the boss of a huge crime family.’
‘That’s part of why we love you,’ Nagi inserted.
Several courses later of unheard grumbling they got to mingle, which meant smiling faintly at people he couldn’t care less about, listening to them talk, deflecting questions, appearing completely and utterly blind to every and any attempts at flirtation, and eventually thanking everyone for attending before fleeing returning to the Iron Fort.
Xanxus and his guardians showed up only a minute after them. “Not bad, Hibari. A little boring, though.”
“Hm? Because no fights broke out and nobody died?”
Xanxus nodded. “Maybe next year. Good job on ignoring all the gold-diggers. They’ll keep coming, though.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t matter. I’m already married, or did I forget to mention that?”
Xanxus blinked at him. (Lussuria squealed.) “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Almost two years now. Helpful when you have friends this side who know people, and skilled Mists. You know. The fossil tried to hook me up and I threw his hypocrisy back in his face. I wouldn’t be here if he’d done with those three what he attempted with me. I wouldn’t be here if he’d stepped down at a reasonable age. There’s a part of me that wants to sneak on up to their retirement home and freeze all of their flames, just to see how they like it, see if it kills them the way it was killing me.”
Xanxus grinned, though there was a shadow of conflict in his expression. The man must have been something resembling a father in there somewhere for that to happen. Resentment and anger over the lies won out given that the grin stayed. “That would be something.”
“I won’t. He’s the one to blame, and I found my own way in spite of what he did. I broke free. I still like to imagine it, though. We’ll just keep working on fixing this mess, and maybe I can forget he ever existed.”
“Good luck with that,” Xanxus said. “I keep trying myself. Haven’t succeeded yet. Right, we’re out of here. Expect the usual.”
After they were gone everyone headed to the second floor of the cube to strip off the finery and relax. A shower to wash off the perfume and cologne that lingered from too many people indulging in competing scents, that and the heat of so many bodies.
He got dressed in lounge pants and a tank top, and headed to the common room to snuggle on a sofa with Kyōya. His husband’s arm around his shoulders was a delight, and the steady beat of his heart was a comfort.
A minimum of ten years being don. For longer, it depended quite a bit on how his half-siblings turned out, if any of them was a Sky, and if they grew up idiots or not. He really did not want to end up in a position where they were just as defective as the defect, where he had to stay and stay and stay, or get a surrogate in order to have and raise a child of his own, properly, and condemn his own son or daughter to this same life.
“There’s no knowing until they show signs,” Kyōya said.
“If we do make it back to Namimori,” Nagi said as she entered the room from the exterior hallway, “we can always put up protections around and in the city itself. It’d be a very intensive project.”
“To reject anyone looking for us?” Mukuro asked, exiting his suite. “Nothing to see here, move along?”
She shrugged. “My estimate is that we’re here twenty years. First to know, second to see if any of them are decent, and third to insist they marry and produce heirs.”
“Which would be hypocritical of me, but I don’t know that I care,” he said.
“We can send those kids to mafia school,” Ken said from his doorway. “I mean, it might help, it might not. They’d probably get sucked up to, but they’d also spend time around people their age. We haven’t even checked to see how they’re being educated.”
“So we add it to the list and keep an eye on their progress. They are potential heirs, so we need to know these things. Can’t let it slide, not if we intend to escape at some point. And if they start going south personality-wise, there will have to be corrections made. Also, that they’re aware of harmonization, regardless of what flame type.”
They hashed out a number of plans regarding those children, then parted for bed.
Tsuna was not looking forward to a decade (possibly several) of being the Vongola Don, but they would make the best of it they could, as a family.