Reborn! fic - Blood of the Covenant (Chapter 8)
( Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 )
Title - Blood of the Covenant
Rating - PG-13 for language and violence
Characters - Gokudera, Tsuna, Reborn, Yamamoto
Notes - All right, brace yourselves, because this is it. Now entering Catharsis City, population: these guys. We’re about to go to some very real places; it’s fucking feels o’clock.
Also, this is by far the longest chapter in the fic. I literally could (and possibly should) have made it into two chapters, but screw it. So anyways, just a heads up.
Warnings - These contain spoilers, so skip ahead if you want to avoid.
[Spoiler (click to open)]
Also, just. Feelings. Just. A lot of feelings, everywhere, all over the place. It’s a mess.
Target 08 - Breakthrough
It was the worst-case scenario. It was the universe asking the impossible of him. Lie to Tsuna, the person he cared about and trusted most in the world. Tell him nothing was wrong, when nothing could be further from the truth. Pretend everything was all right, when inside he was just barely holding it together.
But there was no other way. He had to protect him. It was the only thing he had left at this point. The knowledge that if he went through with this, at least it meant Tsuna would be safe. He had to do it.
He had to.
“…Hey, Boss,” he said, forcing his tone to remain even.
He tried to read Tsuna’s expression. He was gently scratching Uri between the ears now, his initial look of surprise slowly being replaced with one of confusion and concern. “What are you doing out here?” he said hesitantly.
“Nothing,” Gokudera answered, before kicking himself mentally. He could hardly have sounded more suspicious if he tried. “Couldn’t sleep,” he amended, hoping that was a little better. That, at least, didn’t sound so damn vague.
But Tsuna was eyeing him more closely now, and though it seemed like he was deliberating, there was a definite hint of doubt in his eyes as he gently set Uri back down.
“…You’re lying.”
Gokudera cursed inwardly. “Boss-”
But before he could make up some other lie or excuse, Tsuna suddenly spoke again, in a rush, almost as if he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve. “You-you can talk to me, you know,” he stammered. “I’m your friend. So, please… tell me what’s going on.”
…Shit.
He couldn’t do this. “Nothing’s going on,” he said, desperately racking his brain for a better defense, something else to tell him that would throw him off. Nothing sprang to mind. He had jumped into this without any kind of plan. Again. He had counted on not getting caught. And now that he had, he was floundering.
And Tsuna was seeing right through him. Gokudera could tell: he already knew. Of course he knew. This was Tsuna, after all. Maybe he wasn’t always book-smart, but he was insightful, and perceptive, and when it came down to it, he was the most clear-sighted individual Gokudera had ever met.
“…You were leaving again, weren’t you?” Tsuna said, sure enough, and Gokudera’s heart sank.
He swallowed. “No-”
“Gokudera-kun…”
“I wasn’t-it’s not-”
“Stop it,” Tsuna cut in, more forcefully now. “Just stop.”
And Gokudera did, biting back yet another pointless denial and falling silent instead.
Finally Tsuna looked at him, his eyes pleading. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”
And Gokudera felt his still-all-too-fragile reserves start to break.
“…I have to go,” he said, finally giving up on uselessly trying to feign otherwise.
Immediately, Tsuna shook his head. “No.”
Gokudera exhaled, which was a mistake-it came out way too shaky for his liking. “You don’t understand-”
“Then tell me! Please!”
Gokudera’s throat had started to tighten up. Frustrated, he bit at his lip in an attempt to keep from losing any further control. “He’s… if I don’t go, he’ll…”
He couldn’t utter the words. Even now, the thought lay terrifyingly in wait, daring him to invoke it, to voice it and make it real.
Finally, he just said, “I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.”
Tsuna frowned. “Gokudera-kun, it’s not your fault-”
“It is my fault!” he said, surprising himself with his sudden vehemence. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that everyone kept trying to act otherwise. Maybe because he was afraid that deep down they did blame him, and were simply being kind. More likely, it was because their continued acceptance of him only made him feel less worthy. “You’re only here because of me! They targeted the family because of me!”
“That doesn’t make it your fault!” Tsuna said just as ardently.
Gokudera looked away, frustrated.
“Is that why you want to leave?” Tsuna asked.
“I don’t want to leave!” Gokudera blurted, perhaps too honestly. But he didn’t-he didn’t want Tsuna to think that. “I don’t have a choice!”
Tsuna’s brow creased. “Of course you have-”
“He’ll kill you!”
Tsuna stopped short.
Gokudera stared at him wide-eyed, breathing hard. All of a sudden it had just come bursting out of him. It was as much of a shock to him as it probably had been to Tsuna.
“…What?” Tsuna said.
Gokudera swallowed hard. “He told me… he told me I had one day. He wants me to join him. If I don’t… if I refuse to do it… he’ll kill you.”
(and I will make you watch)
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying his hardest to ignore the sick feeling in his gut.
Tsuna shook his head, looking defiant. “I don’t-”
“Listen to me!” Gokudera cut him off, his eyes snapping open again and desperately meeting Tsuna’s. He needed him to understand. “Please! He’ll do it! He doesn’t care! He thinks-” He broke off, briefly, as an involuntary shudder swept over him. “In his mind, him and me are the same. He thinks there’s some fucking bond between us, and to him, the Vongola are just standing in the way. And when something gets in his way…”
He trailed off, thinking of Ganauche. Of the ill-fated servants in the castle kitchens that day. Of his father.
Tsuna, however, was still looking stubborn. “I don’t care.”
“Boss-”
“I’m not scared of him!”
I am, Gokudera thought. He opened his mouth to say it, but the words wouldn’t come out. He just stood there like an idiot. But he was sure Tsuna could see right through him anyway.
He didn’t know how to explain it. He needed to but he couldn’t. Of course Tsuna wasn’t scared, because he didn’t know Luca like Gokudera did. He hadn’t seen him slit a girl’s throat open just to prove a point. Hadn’t seen him blow up Ganauche’s arm to do so again, six years later.
Maybe they could beat him. Maybe they could figure out some way.
Or maybe it would all end in disaster.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t. His brain was telling him that Tsuna was right, that he was just too afraid to think clearly. But his heart was racing now, and telling him the very opposite. It didn’t matter if it was a one percent chance or a one hundred percent chance. Even the smallest possibility that Tsuna could die, because of him, was too much.
And it didn’t feel like just a possibility. It felt like a certainty, a looming inevitability, bearing down on him with a force so staggering it felt like it would crush his lungs.
“You can’t,” he whispered. “You can’t risk it.”
“Gokudera-kun…” Tsuna looked pained, confused. But the determined look had not faded from his eyes. “I’m not just going to sit back and let him do whatever he wants.”
“Boss, please-”
“I’m not letting you go!”
The fierceness in his voice was so strong it almost made him shrink back from the intensity of it. He stared back, his pulse beating loudly in his head now, heart pounding with a furor that left him dizzy. He was no match for this. Tsuna’s will left no room for argument.
They were at an impasse. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t see how he could possibly get Tsuna to understand what needed to be done. Tsuna’s very nature made him the type of person that couldn’t understand it.
But that same nature could get him killed. And Gokudera could not take that.
Something crazed was building up inside him now, overwhelming all rational thought. He couldn’t shake off the fear, the certainty, that Luca’s words would come true. And why shouldn’t they? Everything he’d said the last time had been true as well. He shouldn’t exist. If not for him, Yamamoto wouldn’t have been blinded. If not for him, Tsuna would be safe.
How could he have been so stupid and selfish as to let them get involved with this? How could he have missed that danger until it was too late? And all just because he’d wanted so badly to belong. But it was no good. He was no good.
And it didn’t matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter what happened to him now. The only thing that mattered was that Tsuna not be hurt. Nothing else was important compared to that. That was why he couldn’t back down.
Even if it meant going against Tsuna.
His hand shook as he reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a handful of bombs. There was a feverish edge to his thoughts now, a sort of tunnel vision narrowing down everything to this one, single purpose.
“I won’t let you stop me,” he whispered, even though the truth was it felt like his soul was being split in two.
Hurt flashed through Tsuna’s expression, but he continued to meet Gokudera’s gaze steadily, with that calm, clear determination that had never once failed him when the chips were down.
“If I have to stop you by force, I will,” he replied.
For what felt like the longest moment of Gokudera’s life, they remained like that, locked in a silent battle of determined wills. He could feel tears starting to well up, and he swallowed them back. He put every last ounce of the wavering, unstable resolve he had left into standing his ground.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered how he had felt during their conflict with the Millefiore, when he’d learned that the future Tsuna had been gunned down. He remembered the way his heart had constricted, how the sheer horror of it had burned through him from the inside out. He would do anything in order to never feel like that again.
And somewhere else, somewhere even deeper inside, he remembered how it had felt when Tsuna had said to him, What do you think we’re fighting for? It’s so we can have snowball fights and watch fireworks again. How it had felt to finally realize that his life had value to someone else, not just for what he could give, but for who he was.
(I want to laugh with everyone once again, but what meaning will it have if you die?)
And slowly, his hand slipped back down, and the dynamite he’d been clutching slipped from his grip and clattered loosely to the ground, as he felt something wet sliding down his cheek.
“Please,” he said.
He wasn’t sure if he was asking Tsuna, or something else. And he didn’t know for what.
Tsuna was looking anguished now, but his resolution did not fade.
“I’m not gonna let you go.”
Gokudera looked away, biting his lip in a futile effort to keep more tears from spilling. “I don’t… I don’t want to,” he tried to say, but then faltered again. Now his nose was starting to run, too. He was a complete fucking mess, his words broken up by his body’s wracked efforts to stop the tears from turning into straight out sobs. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to leave. But I can’t…”
It was all pouring out from him now, everything he’d been trying to suppress, all at once. The overpowering, hysterical fear of seeing Tsuna get hurt, of having his worst nightmares come true. The helplessness he felt at being caught up in the tide of something that had started long before he’d even been born, something that he’d never had any say in, but that seemed to govern his whole damn life. And the hollow, bleak misery he felt at the idea of losing everything he’d fought so hard for; everything he valued most. The feeling that made his life worth living. His home. His place.
All of that was now gushing forth in the ugliest way possible. The more he tried to control it, the more out of control he felt. “…I tried so hard to keep you out of it. I didn’t want you to get dragged down into it, but now it’s happening anyway, and I can’t…” He shook his head. “I can’t let you get hurt, I can’t…”
“Gokudera-kun…” Tsuna said quietly. He was stepping forward, and at the same time, Gokudera suddenly realized that he was backing up. He didn’t know why; it was like his legs were moving of their own accord. But Tsuna kept moving in closer anyway, and all of a sudden Gokudera felt something big and solid behind him-a tree-and he physically couldn’t move back any further.
And he was stuck there, and he couldn’t stop fucking crying, and now more words were pouring out of him in a stream of rambling nonsense: “I can’t lose you. I can’t do it, I can’t…”
It felt like it was pressing in on him now, this paralyzing, out-of-control feeling. It felt like death. It was choking him, suffocating him, and Tsuna was the only thing still keeping him together, but he was also the reason he was falling apart. “You’re… you’re…”
You’re everything. The best thing that ever happened to me. The most important thing in the world to me.
He couldn’t lose that.
“Listen to me, Gokudera-kun.”
Tsuna was standing right in front of him now. Gokudera’s whole body was shaking, exhausted with the effort of trying to get himself back under control. Tsuna waited until he finally managed to look back up at him.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated as Gokudera immediately shook his head. “It’s my fault.”
That was wrong. He didn’t understand where Tsuna was going with this, but that, at least was wrong. But again, Tsuna stopped him as he tried to shake his head ‘no.’ “Listen, okay? Please.”
And he sounded so imploring, and all of a sudden Gokudera was just so tired. Tired of struggling. Tired of fighting.
And so he tried.
“Ever since I first met you… I’ve been selfish,” Tsuna said. “I haven’t been fair to you. I was so obsessed with trying to keep my life normal, and I was scared to let anything in that might screw that up.” Tsuna let out a short, bitter laugh, then collected himself again.
“You… you were my first friend,” he said with a small smile. “You know that?” The smile faded, replaced by a guilty expression. “But… you were mafia. You came from a totally different world than me. And even though I cared about you, I didn’t want that in my life, so… I rejected it. The part of you that was mafia, that came from that place… I didn’t want it. So I just pretended it didn’t exist. And in doing that, I rejected part of you.”
Gokudera swallowed, but said nothing. He knew this. Deep down, he’d always known it. It hurt to think about, so he pretended it wasn’t the case. And once he’d realized just how deeply ingrained Tsuna’s aversion to the mafia world was, he’d tried to adjust, had tried to be there for him not just as a follower, but as a friend.
But part of him felt like he would never be good enough for that. He’d been in the mafia his entire life; it was a part of his identity. Removed from that context, he had absolutely no idea who he was, let alone if it was a person actually worth knowing. Nothing about him was normal, in the way that Tsuna craved. And what was normal to him often seemed to make absolutely no sense to Tsuna. In fact, he often seemed equal parts disturbed and horrified by it.
So all of this was just confirmation of what he’d always known. That they would always be on different wavelengths. That if Tsuna ever came to understand who and what he really was, he would be repelled by it, because it was so completely antithetical to who Tsuna was himself.
Suddenly he didn’t want to hear any more. But he owed it to Tsuna to hear him out, so he forced himself to be still and listen.
“I didn’t want your problems to become my problems,” Tsuna continued. “I was trying to keep the good while rejecting all the bad.” He looked away for a moment, and Gokudera felt his stomach tighten fearfully.
But to his surprise, when Tsuna turned back, there were tears prickling at the corners of his own eyes.
“But you never got that choice,” he said. “You don’t get to just push away the bad parts of your life and pretend they don’t exist. And deep down, I knew that, but I wanted to pretend it wasn’t the case, and that we could just… just stay normal junior high school kids forever, and not have the mafia be a part of it.”
He swallowed visibly. “…And whenever you called me ‘Tenth’, or ‘Boss’, it was always a reminder that that wasn’t going to happen, so… so I always held back, a little. And I know that made you do the same. So I know that’s why you don’t… you don’t like opening up. And you have all these secrets, and you’re always just… just trying to keep it all to yourself.”
Gokudera found that his eyes were suddenly stinging again, but for a very different reason this time.
“I get it,” Tsuna said. “I haven’t been a good friend. And how could you ever want to share any of that, if no one was ever willing to help?
“So… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so selfish, and that I wasn’t willing to help you carry those burdens sooner. I’m sorry. But I want to do it now. I want to start being that kind of friend. If it’s not too late. And… if you’re still willing to give me the chance. Please.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and Gokudera felt his own lip trembling as he blinked away more tears. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words.
He felt… raw. Exposed. It felt like all of a sudden someone had come along and shone a light onto the deepest parts of him, the parts that even he himself didn’t fully understand.
All his life, he had been lonely. Even before Luca, before his sister’s poison cooking, before his father had turned cold and distant. He had always been alone. It wasn’t something he wanted, it was just something that was. He and Bianchi had grown up isolated, but where his sister had always been self-reliant and sure of herself, he’d always felt restless and anxious. So eventually he had just learned to manage, out of sheer necessity. He wouldn’t have survived otherwise.
And over the years, little by little he’d been driven further and further into himself, eventually starting to push others away before they could do the same to him. Even after he’d met Tsuna, that hadn’t changed, not really. Over time, he’d been able to open up a little more. But the idea of “sharing his burdens” was a completely foreign one. It had simply never occurred to him.
He was terrified for a moment. Terrified that Tsuna didn’t know the full extent of what he was offering. What he was getting himself into. Gokudera himself was only just now realizing exactly how heavy those burdens had always been. He couldn’t for the life of him understand how he hadn’t been crushed beneath them years ago. Or maybe he had been, this entire time, and he’d simply never noticed.
All at once he realized just how desperately he wanted to say yes. But he was still afraid. It felt like too much to ask. And maybe it would be too much for Tsuna.
But he wanted it so badly.
…And Tsuna was the strongest person he knew.
He was watching him. Tsuna. Tear streaks were now visible on his own face, but he said nothing; just waited.
And finally, Gokudera nodded.
It was the smallest, feeblest gesture. But for him it carried the weight of the earth.
And then he was shaking again, and his vision blurred, and suddenly Tsuna pulled him into a hug, and Gokudera just let him, resting his head on his shoulder.
---
When he finally pulled back, some minutes later, his eyes were red and swollen, and he felt exhausted, but somehow also lighter than he had in days.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Tsuna smiled at him. “Better?” he said after a moment.
He nodded. “A little. But I don’t… I’m still scared,” he confessed, feeling somewhat ashamed.
But Tsuna didn’t seem offended. “…Well, we have still have one day, right? So… we just have until then to come up with some kind of plan.”
“I guess,” he said, trying not to sound too unconvinced. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. He was moved beyond words by what Tsuna had said to him. It went beyond gratitude. But none of that changed the fact that his brother’s ultimatum was still looming overhead.
“We’ll manage,” Tsuna said firmly. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”
And he sounded so sure, and Gokudera wanted so badly to believe him.
He’d been panicking before. He realized that now. He hadn’t understood until tonight the full extent of the hold his brother had had on him for all these years. How completely it had enveloped him. He’d been so desperate to prove he could handle it that he’d refused to deal with those fears right up till the point when they had come to life and almost swallowed him whole.
And right there and then, he decided: he would not let that fear sway him any longer.
“…Okay,” he replied.
Tsuna smiled, and Gokudera felt a suddenly overwhelming rush of gratitude. “Thanks, Tenth,” he said quietly.
Then he realized his mistake.
“-Uh, I mean. Neo-Pri-Neo Vongola Primo…”
Tsuna laughed. Then, looking a bit tentative, but sincere, he said, “How about just… Tsuna?”
Something in Gokudera’s brain suddenly shorted out, and for a moment he just blinked back at Tsuna, not sure if he realized that what he’d just said might possibly be the most difficult thing Gokudera had ever attempted.
But seeing how hopeful Tsuna looked, and remembering what he had said only a few minutes ago about how calling him ‘Tenth’ made him feel uncomfortable, he swallowed and tried to give it a shot.
“…Tsuna,” he mumbled. Immediately, he felt like he’d just sworn in a church. But the way Tsuna laughed and the warmth it brought to his chest more than made the effort worthwhile.
“We’ll work on it,” Tsuna said with a grin. Gokudera nodded, feeling another flush of warmth, this time to his cheeks.
Tsuna saved him by changing the subject. “All right,” he said, more seriously. “So… Luca. He must still have some sort of weakness, right?”
Gokudera didn’t disagree, but he also hadn’t been able to think of any. But then again, he admittedly hadn’t been able to consider it with a clear head until now. He went quiet for a moment, thinking back to the confrontation earlier that night.
He frowned. “Actually… there was one moment when it almost seemed like he lost control for a second. Maybe even a couple times, actually.”
(I’m the only one on your side!)
“…It was when he was angry. When I kept telling him I wasn’t going to join him, and he finally lost it.”
(I thought after all this time, it would be different.)
“He’s always trying to act calm, but that time…” He thought about it more. “…Maybe that’s why? Maybe when he loses control of his emotions, it makes him lose control over the Command too.”
“So… if that’s it, then we just need to figure out how to get him to lose control,” Tsuna said.
But the truth was, that was easier said than done. “…I don’t know. He seemed like he had a pretty good handle on it. To shake him up to the point where he can’t use his abilities… that’s going to be really hard. I don’t even know where we’d start.”
“I have an idea,” said another voice.
Gokudera jumped about a foot while Tsuna let out a small squeak and spun around so fast he nearly fell over.
There, by the fountain, Reborn stood smiling.
---
Luca seemed to favor the ballroom, Anthony thought as he once again passed through the great mahogany doors. He wondered distractedly if there was any psychological significance to that. The room was grand, opulent; but also utterly still and empty.
Once again, he found Luca standing over by the piano, just as he had on the night of the coup. This time, however, rather than the piano itself, it was a small picture that seemed to have captured his attention, displayed next to the music rack in an antique golden frame.
Anthony frowned as he drew closer. It was a picture of a young woman with long silver hair. The resemblance to Luca’s younger brother was unmistakable. This was Giovanni’s mistress. For a moment the name escaped him, but then he recalled-Lavina.
“I can’t believe he kept this all these years,” Luca said with a fair amount of distaste.
“I can’t believe the Madam never made him take it down,” Anthony replied with a raised eyebrow as he reached his side.
He waited, but Luca didn’t say anything further on the subject. He seemed lost in thought. On the surface it seemed tranquil enough, but Anthony knew better. And really, it could hardly be a healthy type of brooding if he was in here alone, staring at a picture of the deceased woman his late father had, by all accounts, been in love with.
“Kid,” he said softly.
Luca turned to eye him in mild surprise. “‘Kid’?”
Anthony sighed. “Boss. Listen to me, okay-”
But he was interrupted as Luca suddenly seemed to notice his rolled-up sleeves and the bandages wrapped around his right arm. “What happened?” he said, concern flitting across his face.
“What happened?” he repeated, mildly exasperated. “Reborn happened. That whole one hundred man thing only distracted him for about twenty seconds. I told you we couldn’t underestimate them.”
Luca glanced away, looking a bit chagrined. “…Is it bad?”
“It’ll heal. Luca, listen,” Anthony pressed. “We need to end this. I’m serious. The Vongola have us outgunned. It’s not even close. And they know it. So far they’ve let us off, but they won’t keep doing it.”
“You really think they’d let me off?” Luca muttered with tired cynicism.
“I met the young Boss,” Anthony said insistently. “He’s not a bad kid. I don’t think they want any more trouble, they just want to be left alone.”
“So they can take my brother,” Luca said with sudden force, “raise him up as part of their family, make whatever demands they want, and if we capitulate then somehow they’re the ones doing us a favor?”
Anthony gave a frustrated sigh. “You’re twisting this.”
Luca glared at him. “Is that all it takes?” he said derisively. “One little wound and all of a sudden you’re on their side?”
“I’m on your side,” Anthony said, stung. “You know that. I’m looking out for you, it’s my job-”
“Then don’t bother with it anymore,” Luca said suddenly, turning away.
Anthony blinked for a moment, taken aback.
“Luca-”
“Boss,” said Luca, turning back on him with a sudden sharpness. “Not ‘Kid’, not ‘Luca.’ I’m your Boss.”
Anthony stared at him for a long moment.
All at once, it struck him that Luca might be too far gone now to convince. That if Anthony continued, if he told him exactly what Reborn had said, rather than seeing reason and backing down, Luca might instead do just the opposite.
That would be suicidal. …But it wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen that side of Luca, either.
All of a sudden he recalled the Arcobaleno’s words from earlier. ‘What led you to work for such a foolhardy man as Luca DiSanto?’
The answer to that was of course more complicated than he would have been able to explain. But the fact remained that he did care about Luca. He cared a whole fucking lot, and he didn’t think he had it in him to just sit back and watch while he went and got himself killed.
But if Luca thought that Anthony might try to stop him, there was a risk he might take preventative measures. He didn’t think Luca would ever hurt him, but he could incapacitate him, certainly. In fact, it was his area of expertise.
He had to back off, he realized. Though it killed him to do so. But it wasn’t just Luca’s life at stake either. It was the whole family, and even if Luca had forgotten, Anthony still knew it was his duty to protect them.
“I asked you at the start of this if I could count on you,” Luca said quietly. And to anyone else listening, it might have sounded cold, but Anthony knew him well enough to catch the hurt in that tone.
Anthony fought a wince. “Don’t do that. Don’t turn it into something like that.”
There was another agonizingly long silence.
Finally, Luca indicated his head toward the door. “Go,” he said. “Leave.”
Anthony opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again with a sigh.
With a heavy feeling, he turned and walked back to the door.
---
Yamamoto had just had a breakthrough.
His conversation with Reborn had gotten him thinking more carefully about Bella’s words during their fight. “I can feel your will.” And that was when it had hit him: will. It wasn’t just a metaphor for predicting his actions. It was ‘will’ as in purpose. ‘Will’, as in determination.
‘Will’, as in Dying Will.
Somehow she was able to see it. Not just the external flames that physically manifested during battle, but the internal wave energy, the hadou, that produced those flames. He remembered someone-Lal Mirch, maybe?-telling them once that those wave energies were equivalent to a person’s own life force. And that the Dying Will resonated with one’s emotions, which was why the flame grew more powerful the more determined that you were.
If she was able to sense that wave energy flowing inside of everyone, and if that energy really did change and fluctuate along with that person’s emotions, then it would explain perfectly how she had been able to anticipate each one of his attacks. It would be like having a neon sign on your body telling your opponent exactly when and how you were going to strike at them next.
The question was, then, how could he learn how to do that too?
He hadn’t had any clue where to start, so at first he’d just tried the Obi-Wan Kenobi stuff: “stretch out with your feelings.” He quickly realized that, although that sounded cool, it was not actually good or practical advice in any meaningful way.
So he’d taken a few deep breaths and just sat there for a moment. He’d practiced meditation before, both during sword training with his dad, and later during his training with Reborn in the future timeline. Even Squalo, in surprising contrast to his loud and destructive nature, had insisted on taking a little time in the evenings (and one time even under a waterfall) for quiet reflection. Yamamoto supposed it was just one of those cool master assassin things that was necessary to fully learn the ways of the sword.
The point was, he was already familiar with the process of focusing on his breaths, the inhalation and exhalation, and observing the way his body moved as he breathed. This time, as he sat there, he started in the same way, with his chest, ribcage, shoulders, and belly, and then slowly expanded his focus outward to the rest of his body. Outward to his arms; down to his legs; all the way down and out.
He concentrated for a moment on the feeling; tried to map it out. This was himself.
Then, with another deep breath, he focused on his Rain Necklace and, with a burst of determination, activated its blue flames.
Concentrate. He gathered his focus for a moment, and then, same as before, centered it first on his breath, and then allowed it to gently travel outwards, tracing the map of his body same as before. Focus. What feels the same? What’s different?
He repeated this cycle several more times. Flames on; flames off; flames back on. By the third or fourth time around, he was slowly beginning to detect a slight change. It helped to physically imagine the flames as they ran along the corridors of his spirit, to imagine the surge of bright blue determination coursing through him like electricity.
By the fifth time, he could feel the change in his body’s energy the instant he activated the flames.
He was leaning back against his pillow with his arms crossed behind his head, wondering where to go from there, when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching from down the hall.
Sitting up a little straighter, he took a deep breath and attempted to identify the source. Now it was finally a real test. It wasn’t just him this time, but a whole other person separate from himself. Though there were only so many people it could be, of course, and he already had a few suspicions.
The footsteps slowly drew to a halt as they reached the door to his room, and after a few seconds, Yamamoto smiled softly.
There was no need to try and sense this person’s hadou after all. The only people that would possibly be visiting him again at this hour were his doctors, Tsuna, Reborn, or Gokudera. Reborn, he was fairly sure, wouldn’t have been so obvious in his approach. The doctors would have entered the room without hesitation, rather than stopping in the doorway. And Tsuna would have said something to greet him, or to check if he was actually still awake.
So that only left one person.
“Gokudera?”
There was silence for a second; then he heard the footsteps resume, entering the room and approaching his bed. They stopped just a couple feet away. “…How’d you know?”
Yamamoto smiled. “Just a guess.”
He could hear Gokudera make a hmmph sound, and his smile widened. Clearly, he was feeling better, if he was back to his usual self enough to be annoyed. Yamamoto had a suspicion as to why that might be. “You talked to Tsuna?” he asked.
“…Yeah.”
Yamamoto smiled. “Good.”
He could faintly hear Gokudera shifting in place slightly awkwardly. “I’m sorry about before,” he said. “Running out. And also…” There was more shuffling and shifting of weight. “I’m sorry about your eyes.”
Yamamoto’s smile faded. “It’s not your-”
“Not my fault, yeah, I know. Everybody keeps saying that. …But I’m still sorry.”
And even though Yamamoto’s first instinct was to shake his head and continue to argue, some small, wise little voice in the back of his head made him pause. Because while Gokudera blaming himself for something was perhaps not so rare, for Gokudera to actually apologize definitely was. And for him to apologize to Yamamoto of all people-twice in the span of thirty seconds!-was pretty much unheard of. It was clearly very important to him, and that meant that the only decent thing for Yamamoto to do was accept it.
“All right,” he said. “But I hope you believe us, though. It’s really not your fault.”
Gokudera grumbled something that didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“Hey,” Yamamoto said, more softly. “You can trust us, you know.”
It was a bit awkward, communicating like this. When he and Gokudera were in a rhythm, everything always came so naturally. Gokudera would complain about things he didn’t really mind, and mutter insults he didn’t really mean, and Yamamoto would sidestep the insults and brush off the complaints with practiced ease. It was comforting, and familiar, and they were good at it.
But now Gokudera was swapping out the insults for apologies, and the complaints for awkward silences, and it was kind of throwing him for a loop. And to add to that, so much of what Gokudera typically said was never really said at all, but instead concealed just beneath the surface, visible through his expressions, his movements, his body language. All things Yamamoto could no longer just observe. He was beginning to realize just how much of that he’d taken for granted.
All he could do was try to rely on how well he already knew Gokudera. He was scared, probably. And worried, both about Yamamoto, and about whatever else was still to come with this whole situation.
But if he thought about in those terms, maybe it wasn’t so hard to figure out what to say, after all.
“It’ll be all right. We’ve made it through everything else together, and we’ll make it through this, too. So don’t worry. As for this…” He nudged the eye mask gently. “I’ll definitely get better. But even if I don’t… I won’t let this stop me.”
There. That was the best he could do. He hoped it would be enough.
“…Good.”
Yamamoto laughed, relieved.
“Hey, Gokudera,” he said, because after a speech like that, he had better get to work on making sure he followed through. “Can you do me a favor?”
---
The baseball idiot’s half-covered face lit up as soon as Gokudera reentered the room, Shigure Kintoki in hand.
“Thanks,” he said as Gokudera handed it to him. “I could have used my Vongola Gear swords, but somehow, it just feels better training with Kintoki. Does that make sense?”
“Not really,” Gokudera replied, watching with some skepticism as Yamamoto climbed out of bed and started stretching.
“Ha ha! Oh, well.”
“Is this really a good idea right now?” Gokudera asked. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d brought back the bamboo weapon as requested, but-wasn’t Yamamoto still supposed to be resting?
“Heh. I’ll probably get in trouble later, but it’s all right. I couldn’t really sleep, anyway.”
Well. That much, he could understand. “…Me neither.”
Yamamoto grinned. “In that case, would you mind helping me out a little bit?”
“With what?”
“I just need you to activate your Vongola Gear. You have it, right?”
Normally that would have been a given. But this one time, Yamamoto had no idea just how much of a close thing it had actually been.
But he did, in fact, have his Gear again; he’d made a detour to retrieve the Buckle from his room when he had gone to retrieve Kintoki from Yamamoto’s. There was no need for Yamamoto to ever know about the rest. “Yeah,” he said.
Then it caught up to him what a potentially disastrous request that could be. “…You want me to attack you?”
“Not attack!” Yamamoto said hastily. “I just need you to power up some of your flames. You have five different kinds, right? For the Sistema C.A.I.”
Yamamoto knew perfectly well that he did, although he wasn’t about to complain about the ego-stroking just now. “Yeah.”
“Can you activate just one or two of them? But don’t tell me which ones, okay?”
Gokudera debated whether he should argue against this more. But if all he was doing was activating the flames, then it was probably okay. After a moment’s hesitation, he concentrated, and his Vongola Gear whirred to life.
Still grinning, Yamamoto reached up with his free hand and tugged off his eye mask.
“Hey-should you be-?!” Gokudera exclaimed, startled.
“It’s all right,” Yamamoto said, his eyes closed. He tossed the mask onto the bed.
Shit. This had better not end up backfiring. “…Ready?” he asked.
“Yep. Go ahead.”
Since his Storm flames were already activated, Gokudera focused on activating his Rain ring next. At the last second, however, thinking that Rain-being Yamamoto’s own affinity-would be too easy, he deviated, activating Cloud instead.
Yamamoto’s forehead creased slightly. After a moment, though, he smiled again. “You switched?”
Gokudera blinked. He honestly hadn’t expected him to pull it off, at least not so quickly, and especially not picking up such a small detail. “How’d you know?”
“At first, it felt the same as mine, but then it suddenly changed. …Which one did you switch to?”
So he hadn’t been able to tell that part after all. “Cloud.”
“Got it.” Yamamoto squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. “One more time?”
Gokudera obliged. This time, he decided to go with a Sun flame.
Yamamoto’s face was screwed tightly in concentration for a few moments. “…That’s Sun,” he finally said.
“Yeah. …How did you know that one?”
Another smile. “It feels the same as her flame.”
“Her?” Gokudera frowned; there was only one ‘her’ Yamamoto could be talking about just at this moment. “The one who…”
“Yeah.”
“…You’re planning on fighting her again?” Though the answer was obvious; he wasn’t sure why he was troubling to ask.
Yamamoto didn’t even bother to reply. The guilty grin on his face was all the confirmation needed.
Gokudera sighed. “Have I told you lately you’re a fucking idiot?”
If anything, the grin just got bigger. “Not lately, no.”
Gokudera shook his head.
“Are you going to stop me?” Yamamoto asked.
“…I should.” Which wasn’t a ‘yes.’
Honestly, Gokudera knew Yamamoto well enough to know that it wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. Once the idiot set his mind on something, it was damned near impossible to try to talk him out of it. That didn’t mean he was thrilled at the idea of him already planning his rematch-while still fucking blind, no less-against someone who had bested him so easily the first time.
But on the other hand, it was Yamamoto. And if Gokudera really had thought it was impossible for him to win, he would have put a stop to it, by force if necessary; he would have even gotten Tsuna involved if it seemed like there was absolutely no getting around it. And never mind how much Yamamoto hated to lose. It absolutely wasn’t worth his life.
But truth be told, Gokudera did not think it was impossible.
He sighed and grabbed the idiot’s arm, ignoring the startled ‘hup!’ noise he made at suddenly being led.
“Come on,” he said. “If we’re gonna train seriously, we should do it outside.”
“Heh.” Yamamoto relaxed and allowed himself to be pulled. “Lead the way.”
---
It was approaching dawn when Reborn finally decided to talk to Tsuna.
He’d been lying on a bench on the veranda outside his bedroom on ever since he had bid Gokudera good night. Reborn had known he wasn’t going to sleep, but he wanted to give him time to think things through.
He wasn’t worried; he had faith in his student. But he could admit to being unexpectedly thrown by the situation, having become so accustomed to their normal flow. It felt strange to hold back. He had been there to guide Tsuna on countless other occasions. But this one time, it was imperative that he let Tsuna reflect on his own. To come to his own conclusions.
He waited until Tsuna finally caught on to his presence and shifted to look at him tiredly. “Reborn.”
Reborn hopped up to settle beside him on the bench. “Are you worried about the plan?” he asked.
Tsuna shook his head. “…The plan is fine. I’m not worried.”
Reborn nodded, and waited for Tsuna to tell him what he had been thinking about.
Finally, Tsuna said quietly, “He almost left again.”
Reborn watched him closely. There was a pensive, preoccupied look in his eyes as he continued. “I wouldn’t have known. I might not have been there to stop him.” He looked deeply troubled by that last thought. “It was just luck.”
Reborn nodded, but still said nothing, waiting for Tsuna to go on.
“I could’ve said something earlier. …But I was afraid. That it might not be the right thing, or that it might have been… I don’t know… weird.” He gave a harsh laugh. “He was in that much pain, and I just did nothing for so long because I was afraid it might be weird.” He closed his eyes. “He could have gotten hurt. He could have died. Because I was worrying about the right thing to say.”
He paused for a long moment. Then, in a very quiet voice, he said: “I always do that.”
“You did well tonight, Tsuna,” Reborn said, and he meant it.
“But I should have done it earlier. Maybe if I had, Yamamoto and Ganauche wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
“People tend to get hurt no matter what,” Reborn said sagely. “Worrying about what would or wouldn’t have happened doesn’t do any good.”
“I know, but…”
“Yamamoto and Ganauche will be fine.”
“I know.”
“Do you really?”
Tsuna thumped his head back softly against the bench and sighed. “…Yes.”
“Good,” Reborn said.
“It’s just…” Tsuna sighed again. “I spent so much time agonizing over what to say that I almost didn’t say anything at all. And it’s always like that.” He chewed his lip, looking frustrated. “It shouldn’t take you having to shoot me all the time just to get me to move.”
Reborn was quiet for a moment, considering. “What do you think is happening when I shoot you with the Dying Will Bullet, Tsuna?” he asked him finally. “What do you think changes?”
Tsuna blinked, and looked at him, startled.
“If you’re tired of always holding yourself back… then stop holding back,” Reborn said.
Tsuna blinked again. For a moment it appeared he had been rendered speechless.
Then, finally, he smiled.
“…What kind of advice is that,” he said.
Reborn smiled back. “You should get some rest.”
“…Yeah. All right.”
Not even the decency to thank him, Reborn reflected as Tsuna sat up and finally slid off the bench with a yawn, heading back into the room. Really, he could be such a brat.
His smile grew wider.
He was proud.
---
Continue to Chapter 9
( Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 )
Additional Notes - According to Tiffany Watt Smith, there are at least 154 different human emotions. I’m pretty sure that over the course of this chapter, these characters went through every single one of them. And let me tell you, it was exhausting. I am exhausted. But happy.
Next two chapters will be the finale (split into two parts), which will be followed by an epilogue. Just so you’re aware, since these last few chapters haven’t gone through as much editing as the earlier ones, I might push the update days back by a day or two once again (i.e. Wednesday or Friday instead of Tuesday/Thursday). But we’re almost done. Thank you to everyone who’s read this far.
Title - Blood of the Covenant
Rating - PG-13 for language and violence
Characters - Gokudera, Tsuna, Reborn, Yamamoto
Notes - All right, brace yourselves, because this is it. Now entering Catharsis City, population: these guys. We’re about to go to some very real places; it’s fucking feels o’clock.
Also, this is by far the longest chapter in the fic. I literally could (and possibly should) have made it into two chapters, but screw it. So anyways, just a heads up.
Warnings - These contain spoilers, so skip ahead if you want to avoid.
[Spoiler (click to open)]
- Trigger warning for a fairly vivid description of a panic attack/breakdown/whatever you want to call it.
Also, just. Feelings. Just. A lot of feelings, everywhere, all over the place. It’s a mess.
Target 08 - Breakthrough
It was the worst-case scenario. It was the universe asking the impossible of him. Lie to Tsuna, the person he cared about and trusted most in the world. Tell him nothing was wrong, when nothing could be further from the truth. Pretend everything was all right, when inside he was just barely holding it together.
But there was no other way. He had to protect him. It was the only thing he had left at this point. The knowledge that if he went through with this, at least it meant Tsuna would be safe. He had to do it.
He had to.
“…Hey, Boss,” he said, forcing his tone to remain even.
He tried to read Tsuna’s expression. He was gently scratching Uri between the ears now, his initial look of surprise slowly being replaced with one of confusion and concern. “What are you doing out here?” he said hesitantly.
“Nothing,” Gokudera answered, before kicking himself mentally. He could hardly have sounded more suspicious if he tried. “Couldn’t sleep,” he amended, hoping that was a little better. That, at least, didn’t sound so damn vague.
But Tsuna was eyeing him more closely now, and though it seemed like he was deliberating, there was a definite hint of doubt in his eyes as he gently set Uri back down.
“…You’re lying.”
Gokudera cursed inwardly. “Boss-”
But before he could make up some other lie or excuse, Tsuna suddenly spoke again, in a rush, almost as if he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve. “You-you can talk to me, you know,” he stammered. “I’m your friend. So, please… tell me what’s going on.”
…Shit.
He couldn’t do this. “Nothing’s going on,” he said, desperately racking his brain for a better defense, something else to tell him that would throw him off. Nothing sprang to mind. He had jumped into this without any kind of plan. Again. He had counted on not getting caught. And now that he had, he was floundering.
And Tsuna was seeing right through him. Gokudera could tell: he already knew. Of course he knew. This was Tsuna, after all. Maybe he wasn’t always book-smart, but he was insightful, and perceptive, and when it came down to it, he was the most clear-sighted individual Gokudera had ever met.
“…You were leaving again, weren’t you?” Tsuna said, sure enough, and Gokudera’s heart sank.
He swallowed. “No-”
“Gokudera-kun…”
“I wasn’t-it’s not-”
“Stop it,” Tsuna cut in, more forcefully now. “Just stop.”
And Gokudera did, biting back yet another pointless denial and falling silent instead.
Finally Tsuna looked at him, his eyes pleading. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”
And Gokudera felt his still-all-too-fragile reserves start to break.
“…I have to go,” he said, finally giving up on uselessly trying to feign otherwise.
Immediately, Tsuna shook his head. “No.”
Gokudera exhaled, which was a mistake-it came out way too shaky for his liking. “You don’t understand-”
“Then tell me! Please!”
Gokudera’s throat had started to tighten up. Frustrated, he bit at his lip in an attempt to keep from losing any further control. “He’s… if I don’t go, he’ll…”
He couldn’t utter the words. Even now, the thought lay terrifyingly in wait, daring him to invoke it, to voice it and make it real.
Finally, he just said, “I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.”
Tsuna frowned. “Gokudera-kun, it’s not your fault-”
“It is my fault!” he said, surprising himself with his sudden vehemence. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that everyone kept trying to act otherwise. Maybe because he was afraid that deep down they did blame him, and were simply being kind. More likely, it was because their continued acceptance of him only made him feel less worthy. “You’re only here because of me! They targeted the family because of me!”
“That doesn’t make it your fault!” Tsuna said just as ardently.
Gokudera looked away, frustrated.
“Is that why you want to leave?” Tsuna asked.
“I don’t want to leave!” Gokudera blurted, perhaps too honestly. But he didn’t-he didn’t want Tsuna to think that. “I don’t have a choice!”
Tsuna’s brow creased. “Of course you have-”
“He’ll kill you!”
Tsuna stopped short.
Gokudera stared at him wide-eyed, breathing hard. All of a sudden it had just come bursting out of him. It was as much of a shock to him as it probably had been to Tsuna.
“…What?” Tsuna said.
Gokudera swallowed hard. “He told me… he told me I had one day. He wants me to join him. If I don’t… if I refuse to do it… he’ll kill you.”
(and I will make you watch)
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying his hardest to ignore the sick feeling in his gut.
Tsuna shook his head, looking defiant. “I don’t-”
“Listen to me!” Gokudera cut him off, his eyes snapping open again and desperately meeting Tsuna’s. He needed him to understand. “Please! He’ll do it! He doesn’t care! He thinks-” He broke off, briefly, as an involuntary shudder swept over him. “In his mind, him and me are the same. He thinks there’s some fucking bond between us, and to him, the Vongola are just standing in the way. And when something gets in his way…”
He trailed off, thinking of Ganauche. Of the ill-fated servants in the castle kitchens that day. Of his father.
Tsuna, however, was still looking stubborn. “I don’t care.”
“Boss-”
“I’m not scared of him!”
I am, Gokudera thought. He opened his mouth to say it, but the words wouldn’t come out. He just stood there like an idiot. But he was sure Tsuna could see right through him anyway.
He didn’t know how to explain it. He needed to but he couldn’t. Of course Tsuna wasn’t scared, because he didn’t know Luca like Gokudera did. He hadn’t seen him slit a girl’s throat open just to prove a point. Hadn’t seen him blow up Ganauche’s arm to do so again, six years later.
Maybe they could beat him. Maybe they could figure out some way.
Or maybe it would all end in disaster.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t. His brain was telling him that Tsuna was right, that he was just too afraid to think clearly. But his heart was racing now, and telling him the very opposite. It didn’t matter if it was a one percent chance or a one hundred percent chance. Even the smallest possibility that Tsuna could die, because of him, was too much.
And it didn’t feel like just a possibility. It felt like a certainty, a looming inevitability, bearing down on him with a force so staggering it felt like it would crush his lungs.
“You can’t,” he whispered. “You can’t risk it.”
“Gokudera-kun…” Tsuna looked pained, confused. But the determined look had not faded from his eyes. “I’m not just going to sit back and let him do whatever he wants.”
“Boss, please-”
“I’m not letting you go!”
The fierceness in his voice was so strong it almost made him shrink back from the intensity of it. He stared back, his pulse beating loudly in his head now, heart pounding with a furor that left him dizzy. He was no match for this. Tsuna’s will left no room for argument.
They were at an impasse. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t see how he could possibly get Tsuna to understand what needed to be done. Tsuna’s very nature made him the type of person that couldn’t understand it.
But that same nature could get him killed. And Gokudera could not take that.
Something crazed was building up inside him now, overwhelming all rational thought. He couldn’t shake off the fear, the certainty, that Luca’s words would come true. And why shouldn’t they? Everything he’d said the last time had been true as well. He shouldn’t exist. If not for him, Yamamoto wouldn’t have been blinded. If not for him, Tsuna would be safe.
How could he have been so stupid and selfish as to let them get involved with this? How could he have missed that danger until it was too late? And all just because he’d wanted so badly to belong. But it was no good. He was no good.
And it didn’t matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter what happened to him now. The only thing that mattered was that Tsuna not be hurt. Nothing else was important compared to that. That was why he couldn’t back down.
Even if it meant going against Tsuna.
His hand shook as he reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a handful of bombs. There was a feverish edge to his thoughts now, a sort of tunnel vision narrowing down everything to this one, single purpose.
“I won’t let you stop me,” he whispered, even though the truth was it felt like his soul was being split in two.
Hurt flashed through Tsuna’s expression, but he continued to meet Gokudera’s gaze steadily, with that calm, clear determination that had never once failed him when the chips were down.
“If I have to stop you by force, I will,” he replied.
For what felt like the longest moment of Gokudera’s life, they remained like that, locked in a silent battle of determined wills. He could feel tears starting to well up, and he swallowed them back. He put every last ounce of the wavering, unstable resolve he had left into standing his ground.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered how he had felt during their conflict with the Millefiore, when he’d learned that the future Tsuna had been gunned down. He remembered the way his heart had constricted, how the sheer horror of it had burned through him from the inside out. He would do anything in order to never feel like that again.
And somewhere else, somewhere even deeper inside, he remembered how it had felt when Tsuna had said to him, What do you think we’re fighting for? It’s so we can have snowball fights and watch fireworks again. How it had felt to finally realize that his life had value to someone else, not just for what he could give, but for who he was.
(I want to laugh with everyone once again, but what meaning will it have if you die?)
And slowly, his hand slipped back down, and the dynamite he’d been clutching slipped from his grip and clattered loosely to the ground, as he felt something wet sliding down his cheek.
“Please,” he said.
He wasn’t sure if he was asking Tsuna, or something else. And he didn’t know for what.
Tsuna was looking anguished now, but his resolution did not fade.
“I’m not gonna let you go.”
Gokudera looked away, biting his lip in a futile effort to keep more tears from spilling. “I don’t… I don’t want to,” he tried to say, but then faltered again. Now his nose was starting to run, too. He was a complete fucking mess, his words broken up by his body’s wracked efforts to stop the tears from turning into straight out sobs. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to leave. But I can’t…”
It was all pouring out from him now, everything he’d been trying to suppress, all at once. The overpowering, hysterical fear of seeing Tsuna get hurt, of having his worst nightmares come true. The helplessness he felt at being caught up in the tide of something that had started long before he’d even been born, something that he’d never had any say in, but that seemed to govern his whole damn life. And the hollow, bleak misery he felt at the idea of losing everything he’d fought so hard for; everything he valued most. The feeling that made his life worth living. His home. His place.
All of that was now gushing forth in the ugliest way possible. The more he tried to control it, the more out of control he felt. “…I tried so hard to keep you out of it. I didn’t want you to get dragged down into it, but now it’s happening anyway, and I can’t…” He shook his head. “I can’t let you get hurt, I can’t…”
“Gokudera-kun…” Tsuna said quietly. He was stepping forward, and at the same time, Gokudera suddenly realized that he was backing up. He didn’t know why; it was like his legs were moving of their own accord. But Tsuna kept moving in closer anyway, and all of a sudden Gokudera felt something big and solid behind him-a tree-and he physically couldn’t move back any further.
And he was stuck there, and he couldn’t stop fucking crying, and now more words were pouring out of him in a stream of rambling nonsense: “I can’t lose you. I can’t do it, I can’t…”
It felt like it was pressing in on him now, this paralyzing, out-of-control feeling. It felt like death. It was choking him, suffocating him, and Tsuna was the only thing still keeping him together, but he was also the reason he was falling apart. “You’re… you’re…”
You’re everything. The best thing that ever happened to me. The most important thing in the world to me.
He couldn’t lose that.
“Listen to me, Gokudera-kun.”
Tsuna was standing right in front of him now. Gokudera’s whole body was shaking, exhausted with the effort of trying to get himself back under control. Tsuna waited until he finally managed to look back up at him.
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated as Gokudera immediately shook his head. “It’s my fault.”
That was wrong. He didn’t understand where Tsuna was going with this, but that, at least was wrong. But again, Tsuna stopped him as he tried to shake his head ‘no.’ “Listen, okay? Please.”
And he sounded so imploring, and all of a sudden Gokudera was just so tired. Tired of struggling. Tired of fighting.
And so he tried.
“Ever since I first met you… I’ve been selfish,” Tsuna said. “I haven’t been fair to you. I was so obsessed with trying to keep my life normal, and I was scared to let anything in that might screw that up.” Tsuna let out a short, bitter laugh, then collected himself again.
“You… you were my first friend,” he said with a small smile. “You know that?” The smile faded, replaced by a guilty expression. “But… you were mafia. You came from a totally different world than me. And even though I cared about you, I didn’t want that in my life, so… I rejected it. The part of you that was mafia, that came from that place… I didn’t want it. So I just pretended it didn’t exist. And in doing that, I rejected part of you.”
Gokudera swallowed, but said nothing. He knew this. Deep down, he’d always known it. It hurt to think about, so he pretended it wasn’t the case. And once he’d realized just how deeply ingrained Tsuna’s aversion to the mafia world was, he’d tried to adjust, had tried to be there for him not just as a follower, but as a friend.
But part of him felt like he would never be good enough for that. He’d been in the mafia his entire life; it was a part of his identity. Removed from that context, he had absolutely no idea who he was, let alone if it was a person actually worth knowing. Nothing about him was normal, in the way that Tsuna craved. And what was normal to him often seemed to make absolutely no sense to Tsuna. In fact, he often seemed equal parts disturbed and horrified by it.
So all of this was just confirmation of what he’d always known. That they would always be on different wavelengths. That if Tsuna ever came to understand who and what he really was, he would be repelled by it, because it was so completely antithetical to who Tsuna was himself.
Suddenly he didn’t want to hear any more. But he owed it to Tsuna to hear him out, so he forced himself to be still and listen.
“I didn’t want your problems to become my problems,” Tsuna continued. “I was trying to keep the good while rejecting all the bad.” He looked away for a moment, and Gokudera felt his stomach tighten fearfully.
But to his surprise, when Tsuna turned back, there were tears prickling at the corners of his own eyes.
“But you never got that choice,” he said. “You don’t get to just push away the bad parts of your life and pretend they don’t exist. And deep down, I knew that, but I wanted to pretend it wasn’t the case, and that we could just… just stay normal junior high school kids forever, and not have the mafia be a part of it.”
He swallowed visibly. “…And whenever you called me ‘Tenth’, or ‘Boss’, it was always a reminder that that wasn’t going to happen, so… so I always held back, a little. And I know that made you do the same. So I know that’s why you don’t… you don’t like opening up. And you have all these secrets, and you’re always just… just trying to keep it all to yourself.”
Gokudera found that his eyes were suddenly stinging again, but for a very different reason this time.
“I get it,” Tsuna said. “I haven’t been a good friend. And how could you ever want to share any of that, if no one was ever willing to help?
“So… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so selfish, and that I wasn’t willing to help you carry those burdens sooner. I’m sorry. But I want to do it now. I want to start being that kind of friend. If it’s not too late. And… if you’re still willing to give me the chance. Please.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and Gokudera felt his own lip trembling as he blinked away more tears. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words.
He felt… raw. Exposed. It felt like all of a sudden someone had come along and shone a light onto the deepest parts of him, the parts that even he himself didn’t fully understand.
All his life, he had been lonely. Even before Luca, before his sister’s poison cooking, before his father had turned cold and distant. He had always been alone. It wasn’t something he wanted, it was just something that was. He and Bianchi had grown up isolated, but where his sister had always been self-reliant and sure of herself, he’d always felt restless and anxious. So eventually he had just learned to manage, out of sheer necessity. He wouldn’t have survived otherwise.
And over the years, little by little he’d been driven further and further into himself, eventually starting to push others away before they could do the same to him. Even after he’d met Tsuna, that hadn’t changed, not really. Over time, he’d been able to open up a little more. But the idea of “sharing his burdens” was a completely foreign one. It had simply never occurred to him.
He was terrified for a moment. Terrified that Tsuna didn’t know the full extent of what he was offering. What he was getting himself into. Gokudera himself was only just now realizing exactly how heavy those burdens had always been. He couldn’t for the life of him understand how he hadn’t been crushed beneath them years ago. Or maybe he had been, this entire time, and he’d simply never noticed.
All at once he realized just how desperately he wanted to say yes. But he was still afraid. It felt like too much to ask. And maybe it would be too much for Tsuna.
But he wanted it so badly.
…And Tsuna was the strongest person he knew.
He was watching him. Tsuna. Tear streaks were now visible on his own face, but he said nothing; just waited.
And finally, Gokudera nodded.
It was the smallest, feeblest gesture. But for him it carried the weight of the earth.
And then he was shaking again, and his vision blurred, and suddenly Tsuna pulled him into a hug, and Gokudera just let him, resting his head on his shoulder.
---
When he finally pulled back, some minutes later, his eyes were red and swollen, and he felt exhausted, but somehow also lighter than he had in days.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Tsuna smiled at him. “Better?” he said after a moment.
He nodded. “A little. But I don’t… I’m still scared,” he confessed, feeling somewhat ashamed.
But Tsuna didn’t seem offended. “…Well, we have still have one day, right? So… we just have until then to come up with some kind of plan.”
“I guess,” he said, trying not to sound too unconvinced. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. He was moved beyond words by what Tsuna had said to him. It went beyond gratitude. But none of that changed the fact that his brother’s ultimatum was still looming overhead.
“We’ll manage,” Tsuna said firmly. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”
And he sounded so sure, and Gokudera wanted so badly to believe him.
He’d been panicking before. He realized that now. He hadn’t understood until tonight the full extent of the hold his brother had had on him for all these years. How completely it had enveloped him. He’d been so desperate to prove he could handle it that he’d refused to deal with those fears right up till the point when they had come to life and almost swallowed him whole.
And right there and then, he decided: he would not let that fear sway him any longer.
“…Okay,” he replied.
Tsuna smiled, and Gokudera felt a suddenly overwhelming rush of gratitude. “Thanks, Tenth,” he said quietly.
Then he realized his mistake.
“-Uh, I mean. Neo-Pri-Neo Vongola Primo…”
Tsuna laughed. Then, looking a bit tentative, but sincere, he said, “How about just… Tsuna?”
Something in Gokudera’s brain suddenly shorted out, and for a moment he just blinked back at Tsuna, not sure if he realized that what he’d just said might possibly be the most difficult thing Gokudera had ever attempted.
But seeing how hopeful Tsuna looked, and remembering what he had said only a few minutes ago about how calling him ‘Tenth’ made him feel uncomfortable, he swallowed and tried to give it a shot.
“…Tsuna,” he mumbled. Immediately, he felt like he’d just sworn in a church. But the way Tsuna laughed and the warmth it brought to his chest more than made the effort worthwhile.
“We’ll work on it,” Tsuna said with a grin. Gokudera nodded, feeling another flush of warmth, this time to his cheeks.
Tsuna saved him by changing the subject. “All right,” he said, more seriously. “So… Luca. He must still have some sort of weakness, right?”
Gokudera didn’t disagree, but he also hadn’t been able to think of any. But then again, he admittedly hadn’t been able to consider it with a clear head until now. He went quiet for a moment, thinking back to the confrontation earlier that night.
He frowned. “Actually… there was one moment when it almost seemed like he lost control for a second. Maybe even a couple times, actually.”
(I’m the only one on your side!)
“…It was when he was angry. When I kept telling him I wasn’t going to join him, and he finally lost it.”
(I thought after all this time, it would be different.)
“He’s always trying to act calm, but that time…” He thought about it more. “…Maybe that’s why? Maybe when he loses control of his emotions, it makes him lose control over the Command too.”
“So… if that’s it, then we just need to figure out how to get him to lose control,” Tsuna said.
But the truth was, that was easier said than done. “…I don’t know. He seemed like he had a pretty good handle on it. To shake him up to the point where he can’t use his abilities… that’s going to be really hard. I don’t even know where we’d start.”
“I have an idea,” said another voice.
Gokudera jumped about a foot while Tsuna let out a small squeak and spun around so fast he nearly fell over.
There, by the fountain, Reborn stood smiling.
---
Luca seemed to favor the ballroom, Anthony thought as he once again passed through the great mahogany doors. He wondered distractedly if there was any psychological significance to that. The room was grand, opulent; but also utterly still and empty.
Once again, he found Luca standing over by the piano, just as he had on the night of the coup. This time, however, rather than the piano itself, it was a small picture that seemed to have captured his attention, displayed next to the music rack in an antique golden frame.
Anthony frowned as he drew closer. It was a picture of a young woman with long silver hair. The resemblance to Luca’s younger brother was unmistakable. This was Giovanni’s mistress. For a moment the name escaped him, but then he recalled-Lavina.
“I can’t believe he kept this all these years,” Luca said with a fair amount of distaste.
“I can’t believe the Madam never made him take it down,” Anthony replied with a raised eyebrow as he reached his side.
He waited, but Luca didn’t say anything further on the subject. He seemed lost in thought. On the surface it seemed tranquil enough, but Anthony knew better. And really, it could hardly be a healthy type of brooding if he was in here alone, staring at a picture of the deceased woman his late father had, by all accounts, been in love with.
“Kid,” he said softly.
Luca turned to eye him in mild surprise. “‘Kid’?”
Anthony sighed. “Boss. Listen to me, okay-”
But he was interrupted as Luca suddenly seemed to notice his rolled-up sleeves and the bandages wrapped around his right arm. “What happened?” he said, concern flitting across his face.
“What happened?” he repeated, mildly exasperated. “Reborn happened. That whole one hundred man thing only distracted him for about twenty seconds. I told you we couldn’t underestimate them.”
Luca glanced away, looking a bit chagrined. “…Is it bad?”
“It’ll heal. Luca, listen,” Anthony pressed. “We need to end this. I’m serious. The Vongola have us outgunned. It’s not even close. And they know it. So far they’ve let us off, but they won’t keep doing it.”
“You really think they’d let me off?” Luca muttered with tired cynicism.
“I met the young Boss,” Anthony said insistently. “He’s not a bad kid. I don’t think they want any more trouble, they just want to be left alone.”
“So they can take my brother,” Luca said with sudden force, “raise him up as part of their family, make whatever demands they want, and if we capitulate then somehow they’re the ones doing us a favor?”
Anthony gave a frustrated sigh. “You’re twisting this.”
Luca glared at him. “Is that all it takes?” he said derisively. “One little wound and all of a sudden you’re on their side?”
“I’m on your side,” Anthony said, stung. “You know that. I’m looking out for you, it’s my job-”
“Then don’t bother with it anymore,” Luca said suddenly, turning away.
Anthony blinked for a moment, taken aback.
“Luca-”
“Boss,” said Luca, turning back on him with a sudden sharpness. “Not ‘Kid’, not ‘Luca.’ I’m your Boss.”
Anthony stared at him for a long moment.
All at once, it struck him that Luca might be too far gone now to convince. That if Anthony continued, if he told him exactly what Reborn had said, rather than seeing reason and backing down, Luca might instead do just the opposite.
That would be suicidal. …But it wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen that side of Luca, either.
All of a sudden he recalled the Arcobaleno’s words from earlier. ‘What led you to work for such a foolhardy man as Luca DiSanto?’
The answer to that was of course more complicated than he would have been able to explain. But the fact remained that he did care about Luca. He cared a whole fucking lot, and he didn’t think he had it in him to just sit back and watch while he went and got himself killed.
But if Luca thought that Anthony might try to stop him, there was a risk he might take preventative measures. He didn’t think Luca would ever hurt him, but he could incapacitate him, certainly. In fact, it was his area of expertise.
He had to back off, he realized. Though it killed him to do so. But it wasn’t just Luca’s life at stake either. It was the whole family, and even if Luca had forgotten, Anthony still knew it was his duty to protect them.
“I asked you at the start of this if I could count on you,” Luca said quietly. And to anyone else listening, it might have sounded cold, but Anthony knew him well enough to catch the hurt in that tone.
Anthony fought a wince. “Don’t do that. Don’t turn it into something like that.”
There was another agonizingly long silence.
Finally, Luca indicated his head toward the door. “Go,” he said. “Leave.”
Anthony opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again with a sigh.
With a heavy feeling, he turned and walked back to the door.
---
Yamamoto had just had a breakthrough.
His conversation with Reborn had gotten him thinking more carefully about Bella’s words during their fight. “I can feel your will.” And that was when it had hit him: will. It wasn’t just a metaphor for predicting his actions. It was ‘will’ as in purpose. ‘Will’, as in determination.
‘Will’, as in Dying Will.
Somehow she was able to see it. Not just the external flames that physically manifested during battle, but the internal wave energy, the hadou, that produced those flames. He remembered someone-Lal Mirch, maybe?-telling them once that those wave energies were equivalent to a person’s own life force. And that the Dying Will resonated with one’s emotions, which was why the flame grew more powerful the more determined that you were.
If she was able to sense that wave energy flowing inside of everyone, and if that energy really did change and fluctuate along with that person’s emotions, then it would explain perfectly how she had been able to anticipate each one of his attacks. It would be like having a neon sign on your body telling your opponent exactly when and how you were going to strike at them next.
The question was, then, how could he learn how to do that too?
He hadn’t had any clue where to start, so at first he’d just tried the Obi-Wan Kenobi stuff: “stretch out with your feelings.” He quickly realized that, although that sounded cool, it was not actually good or practical advice in any meaningful way.
So he’d taken a few deep breaths and just sat there for a moment. He’d practiced meditation before, both during sword training with his dad, and later during his training with Reborn in the future timeline. Even Squalo, in surprising contrast to his loud and destructive nature, had insisted on taking a little time in the evenings (and one time even under a waterfall) for quiet reflection. Yamamoto supposed it was just one of those cool master assassin things that was necessary to fully learn the ways of the sword.
The point was, he was already familiar with the process of focusing on his breaths, the inhalation and exhalation, and observing the way his body moved as he breathed. This time, as he sat there, he started in the same way, with his chest, ribcage, shoulders, and belly, and then slowly expanded his focus outward to the rest of his body. Outward to his arms; down to his legs; all the way down and out.
He concentrated for a moment on the feeling; tried to map it out. This was himself.
Then, with another deep breath, he focused on his Rain Necklace and, with a burst of determination, activated its blue flames.
Concentrate. He gathered his focus for a moment, and then, same as before, centered it first on his breath, and then allowed it to gently travel outwards, tracing the map of his body same as before. Focus. What feels the same? What’s different?
He repeated this cycle several more times. Flames on; flames off; flames back on. By the third or fourth time around, he was slowly beginning to detect a slight change. It helped to physically imagine the flames as they ran along the corridors of his spirit, to imagine the surge of bright blue determination coursing through him like electricity.
By the fifth time, he could feel the change in his body’s energy the instant he activated the flames.
He was leaning back against his pillow with his arms crossed behind his head, wondering where to go from there, when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching from down the hall.
Sitting up a little straighter, he took a deep breath and attempted to identify the source. Now it was finally a real test. It wasn’t just him this time, but a whole other person separate from himself. Though there were only so many people it could be, of course, and he already had a few suspicions.
The footsteps slowly drew to a halt as they reached the door to his room, and after a few seconds, Yamamoto smiled softly.
There was no need to try and sense this person’s hadou after all. The only people that would possibly be visiting him again at this hour were his doctors, Tsuna, Reborn, or Gokudera. Reborn, he was fairly sure, wouldn’t have been so obvious in his approach. The doctors would have entered the room without hesitation, rather than stopping in the doorway. And Tsuna would have said something to greet him, or to check if he was actually still awake.
So that only left one person.
“Gokudera?”
There was silence for a second; then he heard the footsteps resume, entering the room and approaching his bed. They stopped just a couple feet away. “…How’d you know?”
Yamamoto smiled. “Just a guess.”
He could hear Gokudera make a hmmph sound, and his smile widened. Clearly, he was feeling better, if he was back to his usual self enough to be annoyed. Yamamoto had a suspicion as to why that might be. “You talked to Tsuna?” he asked.
“…Yeah.”
Yamamoto smiled. “Good.”
He could faintly hear Gokudera shifting in place slightly awkwardly. “I’m sorry about before,” he said. “Running out. And also…” There was more shuffling and shifting of weight. “I’m sorry about your eyes.”
Yamamoto’s smile faded. “It’s not your-”
“Not my fault, yeah, I know. Everybody keeps saying that. …But I’m still sorry.”
And even though Yamamoto’s first instinct was to shake his head and continue to argue, some small, wise little voice in the back of his head made him pause. Because while Gokudera blaming himself for something was perhaps not so rare, for Gokudera to actually apologize definitely was. And for him to apologize to Yamamoto of all people-twice in the span of thirty seconds!-was pretty much unheard of. It was clearly very important to him, and that meant that the only decent thing for Yamamoto to do was accept it.
“All right,” he said. “But I hope you believe us, though. It’s really not your fault.”
Gokudera grumbled something that didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“Hey,” Yamamoto said, more softly. “You can trust us, you know.”
It was a bit awkward, communicating like this. When he and Gokudera were in a rhythm, everything always came so naturally. Gokudera would complain about things he didn’t really mind, and mutter insults he didn’t really mean, and Yamamoto would sidestep the insults and brush off the complaints with practiced ease. It was comforting, and familiar, and they were good at it.
But now Gokudera was swapping out the insults for apologies, and the complaints for awkward silences, and it was kind of throwing him for a loop. And to add to that, so much of what Gokudera typically said was never really said at all, but instead concealed just beneath the surface, visible through his expressions, his movements, his body language. All things Yamamoto could no longer just observe. He was beginning to realize just how much of that he’d taken for granted.
All he could do was try to rely on how well he already knew Gokudera. He was scared, probably. And worried, both about Yamamoto, and about whatever else was still to come with this whole situation.
But if he thought about in those terms, maybe it wasn’t so hard to figure out what to say, after all.
“It’ll be all right. We’ve made it through everything else together, and we’ll make it through this, too. So don’t worry. As for this…” He nudged the eye mask gently. “I’ll definitely get better. But even if I don’t… I won’t let this stop me.”
There. That was the best he could do. He hoped it would be enough.
“…Good.”
Yamamoto laughed, relieved.
“Hey, Gokudera,” he said, because after a speech like that, he had better get to work on making sure he followed through. “Can you do me a favor?”
---
The baseball idiot’s half-covered face lit up as soon as Gokudera reentered the room, Shigure Kintoki in hand.
“Thanks,” he said as Gokudera handed it to him. “I could have used my Vongola Gear swords, but somehow, it just feels better training with Kintoki. Does that make sense?”
“Not really,” Gokudera replied, watching with some skepticism as Yamamoto climbed out of bed and started stretching.
“Ha ha! Oh, well.”
“Is this really a good idea right now?” Gokudera asked. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d brought back the bamboo weapon as requested, but-wasn’t Yamamoto still supposed to be resting?
“Heh. I’ll probably get in trouble later, but it’s all right. I couldn’t really sleep, anyway.”
Well. That much, he could understand. “…Me neither.”
Yamamoto grinned. “In that case, would you mind helping me out a little bit?”
“With what?”
“I just need you to activate your Vongola Gear. You have it, right?”
Normally that would have been a given. But this one time, Yamamoto had no idea just how much of a close thing it had actually been.
But he did, in fact, have his Gear again; he’d made a detour to retrieve the Buckle from his room when he had gone to retrieve Kintoki from Yamamoto’s. There was no need for Yamamoto to ever know about the rest. “Yeah,” he said.
Then it caught up to him what a potentially disastrous request that could be. “…You want me to attack you?”
“Not attack!” Yamamoto said hastily. “I just need you to power up some of your flames. You have five different kinds, right? For the Sistema C.A.I.”
Yamamoto knew perfectly well that he did, although he wasn’t about to complain about the ego-stroking just now. “Yeah.”
“Can you activate just one or two of them? But don’t tell me which ones, okay?”
Gokudera debated whether he should argue against this more. But if all he was doing was activating the flames, then it was probably okay. After a moment’s hesitation, he concentrated, and his Vongola Gear whirred to life.
Still grinning, Yamamoto reached up with his free hand and tugged off his eye mask.
“Hey-should you be-?!” Gokudera exclaimed, startled.
“It’s all right,” Yamamoto said, his eyes closed. He tossed the mask onto the bed.
Shit. This had better not end up backfiring. “…Ready?” he asked.
“Yep. Go ahead.”
Since his Storm flames were already activated, Gokudera focused on activating his Rain ring next. At the last second, however, thinking that Rain-being Yamamoto’s own affinity-would be too easy, he deviated, activating Cloud instead.
Yamamoto’s forehead creased slightly. After a moment, though, he smiled again. “You switched?”
Gokudera blinked. He honestly hadn’t expected him to pull it off, at least not so quickly, and especially not picking up such a small detail. “How’d you know?”
“At first, it felt the same as mine, but then it suddenly changed. …Which one did you switch to?”
So he hadn’t been able to tell that part after all. “Cloud.”
“Got it.” Yamamoto squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. “One more time?”
Gokudera obliged. This time, he decided to go with a Sun flame.
Yamamoto’s face was screwed tightly in concentration for a few moments. “…That’s Sun,” he finally said.
“Yeah. …How did you know that one?”
Another smile. “It feels the same as her flame.”
“Her?” Gokudera frowned; there was only one ‘her’ Yamamoto could be talking about just at this moment. “The one who…”
“Yeah.”
“…You’re planning on fighting her again?” Though the answer was obvious; he wasn’t sure why he was troubling to ask.
Yamamoto didn’t even bother to reply. The guilty grin on his face was all the confirmation needed.
Gokudera sighed. “Have I told you lately you’re a fucking idiot?”
If anything, the grin just got bigger. “Not lately, no.”
Gokudera shook his head.
“Are you going to stop me?” Yamamoto asked.
“…I should.” Which wasn’t a ‘yes.’
Honestly, Gokudera knew Yamamoto well enough to know that it wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. Once the idiot set his mind on something, it was damned near impossible to try to talk him out of it. That didn’t mean he was thrilled at the idea of him already planning his rematch-while still fucking blind, no less-against someone who had bested him so easily the first time.
But on the other hand, it was Yamamoto. And if Gokudera really had thought it was impossible for him to win, he would have put a stop to it, by force if necessary; he would have even gotten Tsuna involved if it seemed like there was absolutely no getting around it. And never mind how much Yamamoto hated to lose. It absolutely wasn’t worth his life.
But truth be told, Gokudera did not think it was impossible.
He sighed and grabbed the idiot’s arm, ignoring the startled ‘hup!’ noise he made at suddenly being led.
“Come on,” he said. “If we’re gonna train seriously, we should do it outside.”
“Heh.” Yamamoto relaxed and allowed himself to be pulled. “Lead the way.”
---
It was approaching dawn when Reborn finally decided to talk to Tsuna.
He’d been lying on a bench on the veranda outside his bedroom on ever since he had bid Gokudera good night. Reborn had known he wasn’t going to sleep, but he wanted to give him time to think things through.
He wasn’t worried; he had faith in his student. But he could admit to being unexpectedly thrown by the situation, having become so accustomed to their normal flow. It felt strange to hold back. He had been there to guide Tsuna on countless other occasions. But this one time, it was imperative that he let Tsuna reflect on his own. To come to his own conclusions.
He waited until Tsuna finally caught on to his presence and shifted to look at him tiredly. “Reborn.”
Reborn hopped up to settle beside him on the bench. “Are you worried about the plan?” he asked.
Tsuna shook his head. “…The plan is fine. I’m not worried.”
Reborn nodded, and waited for Tsuna to tell him what he had been thinking about.
Finally, Tsuna said quietly, “He almost left again.”
Reborn watched him closely. There was a pensive, preoccupied look in his eyes as he continued. “I wouldn’t have known. I might not have been there to stop him.” He looked deeply troubled by that last thought. “It was just luck.”
Reborn nodded, but still said nothing, waiting for Tsuna to go on.
“I could’ve said something earlier. …But I was afraid. That it might not be the right thing, or that it might have been… I don’t know… weird.” He gave a harsh laugh. “He was in that much pain, and I just did nothing for so long because I was afraid it might be weird.” He closed his eyes. “He could have gotten hurt. He could have died. Because I was worrying about the right thing to say.”
He paused for a long moment. Then, in a very quiet voice, he said: “I always do that.”
“You did well tonight, Tsuna,” Reborn said, and he meant it.
“But I should have done it earlier. Maybe if I had, Yamamoto and Ganauche wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
“People tend to get hurt no matter what,” Reborn said sagely. “Worrying about what would or wouldn’t have happened doesn’t do any good.”
“I know, but…”
“Yamamoto and Ganauche will be fine.”
“I know.”
“Do you really?”
Tsuna thumped his head back softly against the bench and sighed. “…Yes.”
“Good,” Reborn said.
“It’s just…” Tsuna sighed again. “I spent so much time agonizing over what to say that I almost didn’t say anything at all. And it’s always like that.” He chewed his lip, looking frustrated. “It shouldn’t take you having to shoot me all the time just to get me to move.”
Reborn was quiet for a moment, considering. “What do you think is happening when I shoot you with the Dying Will Bullet, Tsuna?” he asked him finally. “What do you think changes?”
Tsuna blinked, and looked at him, startled.
“If you’re tired of always holding yourself back… then stop holding back,” Reborn said.
Tsuna blinked again. For a moment it appeared he had been rendered speechless.
Then, finally, he smiled.
“…What kind of advice is that,” he said.
Reborn smiled back. “You should get some rest.”
“…Yeah. All right.”
Not even the decency to thank him, Reborn reflected as Tsuna sat up and finally slid off the bench with a yawn, heading back into the room. Really, he could be such a brat.
His smile grew wider.
He was proud.
---
Continue to Chapter 9
( Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 )
Additional Notes - According to Tiffany Watt Smith, there are at least 154 different human emotions. I’m pretty sure that over the course of this chapter, these characters went through every single one of them. And let me tell you, it was exhausting. I am exhausted. But happy.
Next two chapters will be the finale (split into two parts), which will be followed by an epilogue. Just so you’re aware, since these last few chapters haven’t gone through as much editing as the earlier ones, I might push the update days back by a day or two once again (i.e. Wednesday or Friday instead of Tuesday/Thursday). But we’re almost done. Thank you to everyone who’s read this far.