[KHR] yesterday's tomorrow (ch. 3)
Why, hello there, Gokudera-kun. You look awfully lonely standing by yourself.
--
(friends are supposed to hold you up, not blow you apart…)
chapter three
--
By the morning, Reborn had returned to his usual cheeky self, which was either good or bad-and maybe both.
“Reborn! What the h--!” Tsuna screamed, stumbling into the kitchen and coughing furiously. Behind him, white smoke tumbled down the stairs. “You had to detonate a stupid grenade in my room to wake me up?!” (He’d almost murdered his lampstand, which had really looked like an enemy before he realized what an utter jerk Reborn was.)
The baby calmly ignored him and continued to sip his coffee in a distinctly Reborn way-he was a master at pretending not to laugh and making it very clear that he was. “A boss should always be prepared for anything,” he intoned smugly.
Tsuna scowled. “Not while I’m sleeping. I’ll have guards and my guardians for that.” ("Stupid herbivore," hissed the man as they ran-"Were you asleep? How could you let them sneak up on you?" Tsuna's chest twinged with guilt because Hibari was right-) But he ignored that.
“You don’t have any guardians yet,” reminded Reborn, and gave him a look that said silently: would you care to enlighten me? Which was an order in Reborn-ese.
Still resentful from the morning wake-up explosion, Tsuna collapsed into a seat next to the hitman (not that it mattered where he sat, because with barely any limbs to get in the way Reborn had a 360 degrees range). “You’ve called Gokudera Hayato already, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. He’ll be my storm guardian.” Reaching for the cereal, he grabbed the box and poured himself a bowl. Ew. It was the healthy cereal that Mom always bought, the one that had bran and tasted like sawdust. (“Tastes like home,” commented another soldier, filling himself on the food they’d managed to dig out from the remains of a grocery store. As Tsuna stared down at the familiar label on the box, he agreed; then proceeded to nearly choke on the dry bran.)
“And the rest?”
“Do you really have to know that?” The exasperated words flew out of his mouth, and in a second Reborn swiftly kicked him sharply in the shoulder. “Ouch! Fine. Besides Gokudera-kun, Yamamoto Takeshi, Bovino Lambo, Hibari Kyouya, Sasagawa Ryohei, Dokuro Chrome, and Rokudo Mukuro.”
Reborn frowned. “That’s seven guardians.”
“Right,” Tsuna said after shoving another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Rokudo Mukuro and Dokuro Chrome both occupy the Mist guardian spot. After a series of events, Mukuro-san ended up in prison but can kind of… possess Chrome-san when he wants. Like a dual existence. I don’t really know how he does it, but anyway, it works.”
“I see,” replied Reborn slowly. He was probably going to investigate Mukuro-san and Chrome-san-no, scratch that. He’d probably investigate every one of his guardians.
A sudden thought sprang into Tsuna’s mind. “Reborn! Don’t scare off my guardians, okay?”
Reborn smirked. “Dame Tsuna. Now why would I do that?”
“Hey, I mean it! They were good guardians,” said Tsuna quietly. (He stood in front of a clearing, but instead of seven peoplefriendsFAMILY standing around him, there were seven clean, new gravestones.) Reborn must have noticed the past tense, as his smirk tightened minutely.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” the hitman replied before hopping down from the chair and walking away. “Dame-Tsuna, Smokin’ Bomb Hayato is arriving at your school today. I’ve already promised him something interesting…”
But Reborn’s voice seemed to be coming from the bottom of a deep well, as it trailed off into nothing. The kitchen buzzed and faded out like a hologram; the ceiling rolled back to sky, brilliant blue sky; green overtook the beige walls and he was standing, just standing in the middle of the clearing.
(His famiglia’s names in front of him, surrounding him, facing him; Tsuna turned around and around, stumbling around as if he were blind, seeing trees just trees and gravestones and coffins and their bloodied faces, oh gosh-looking, their names were just looking at him, saying See what you did? See what you did? This is all-your-fault!
“No,” he’d choked hoarsely. Yes, they told him. It’s your fault.
Was it really his fault? All of it, all of it-choosing that day to attack, h--, even thinking of fighting Vendice, of all the harebrained ideas he’d had before-“Boss has to make the decision,” Chrome had told him plainly, utterly serious when he’d asked her what to do; “But whatever he chooses, it’s the guardians’ responsibility to follow him to the death.” It’d been true, hadn’t it?
He collapsed onto the grass, sobbing)-Tsuna hadn’t even realized when his hands started to shake, or the world turning sideways as he slipped from the table chair onto the floor, or when Reborn suddenly appeared before him and called his name, again and again-(If only, if only! They are all dead, just dead and gone and what can I do? What do I do? There is nothing left, nothing at all, no Vongola to lead and no family to help me-a leader of nothing is no one at all-
Tsuna ripped off his gloves, the trusty, well-worn gloves that had served him as a weapon well for years-that-had-seemed-like-an-entire-lifetime, and threw them across the clearing. “If I hadn’t become the Decimo,” he screamed at the air, because no one was around to hear him-“If I hadn’t been anything at all-if I hadn’t tried so hard-if I hadn’t won against Xanxus, if I’d just let him take the f-- ring!” He yanked the ring off his fingers (just get it off); this, too he flung away.
“If I had been stronger,” he whispered shakily-“or weaker or anything else, would this have happened? Would you all be dead if I hadn’t accepted the inheritance? Where would you be? Where would I be?” He thought back-Byakuran and his alternate universes. He’d been smart. If he made a mistake, he could simply jump to another world.
But there was no chance of that now. Lambo’s Bazooka was gone; it had already been destroyed in the fighting, along with every other working Bovino invention. It had just been too dangerous after I-pin and Lambo had nearly died as a result of some greedy Bovino selling an invention to an enemy mafioso.
Tsuna bent over, shivering and choking and sick all at once; if only he could tell his younger self what stupid mistakes he’d made, so he could avoid them and all of this death-if only he could send his-
Wait.
He snapped up, mind working furiously. Hadn’t Shouichi and Spanner been experimenting with alternate universes? Hadn’t they built that machine-
For once in such a long time, hope beat its wings in his heart.)
“… Tsuna. Tsuna!”
“W… What?” Tsuna mumbled groggily, disoriented and dizzy. There were small black feet in front of him, and he was lying on some hard surface-wait, that was-“Reborn?”
“Dame-Tsuna.” Was Tsuna still confused, or was that actually relief he was hearing in Reborn’s voice?
Then he realized where he was and what he was doing because he’d just collapsed in front of Reborn, and if that wasn’t suspicious, what was? “Sorry,” he muttered hastily, finding some strength in his arms (they weren’t still shaking, were they? No; just numb) and pushing himself up.
“That wasn’t a dream,” noted Reborn pointedly, sharply, suspiciously; any semblance of relief was gone from his voice.
“I know,” Tsuna said, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Sometimes it just happens. Like, sometimes I’m doing something, and a memory will flash in my head. Or someone’s words. Or whatever.
“Has it ever been this… extreme before?”
Just the word extreme made him want to snort, then wince at once; he couldn’t think of anything extreme now and not think of Nii-san’s enthusiastic face. Anyway- “It’s never been like that before. But-Reborn! I think I know why I’m had that dream!” Tsuna exclaimed, gesturing excitedly. “I was in a clearing, where-w-well… there were seven graves there,” (green grass; blue sky, but no clouds no sun no rain no storm no mist--) Tsuna shook himself out of it. Now was not the time to daze off. “A-Anyway, I-I mean, the future me-was wishing I could have stopped all of this, and then remembered something Spanner-san and Shouichi-kun had been experimenting with, something like what Byakuran did, with alternate universes and all that…”
Reborn stared back at him blankly.
“Um, two friends. They were inventors,” Tsuna explained sheepishly. “And the machine they built-well, it worked, right? The future Tsuna sent his memories back to me.”
Reborn muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like an Italian curse. “So the future was really that bad.”
Faltering just for a moment, struggling to keep the memories behind doors, Tsuna nodded. “It was just war,” he said, the words echoing in his head (just war, only war, war and nothing else).
“So then we have to avoid doing what you did in your memories.” Reborn scowled. “But you still have to become the Decimo.”
“No way!” exclaimed Tsuna. “Reborn, you know me. You know I’m not a boss!”
Reborn stilled, and when he spoke, his words were hard and cold, like the cool black metal of his gun. “Don’t make the mistake, Tsunayoshi,” he snapped, “that I am in any way the same Reborn that you remember from your memories. I’m not. I do not know you, and I do not know what you will become. So don’t speak to me as if I am him.”
(This is the killer Reborn. This is the man the Ninth sent to eliminate the entire De Caente family. You can’t trust him, not yet…)
Tsuna swallowed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t-it’s so easy-” You’re the Tenth. You’re the Tenth. And he’s the best hitman in the world. Even he could tell his little blunder had, in some way, triggered a landmine.
So-pulling himself upright, he looked Reborn in the eye, and dropped his head, because he was the Tenth, he was the Tenth, and a proper mafia boss knows how to apologize, that’s all. “Reborn. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to address you in that way, and I won’t make such a mistake again.”
After a moment, Reborn nodded once (“That’s how you show you’ve accepted the apology, see?” explained Colonello. “That’s the mafia way of saying, ‘It’s okay.’ Though-it doesn’t happen often, ‘cause we’re mafia.” A laugh.). “See that it doesn’t.”
“All I meant,” continued Tsuna carefully, “is that-” how to word this, how to word this! “There are better options for the Vongola boss. Like Xanxus. He even wants the job. I’m not really… mafia material. I’m not strong, I’m not cold-hearted-”
“Were you?” asked Reborn pointedly, and at Tsuna’s hesitation he turned away. “I need to check into some stuff. In the meantime, you should be leaving for school.”
Tsuna glanced at the clock oh snap when had it gotten that late!? “Shoot! See you, Reborn!” he called, grabbing his bag by the door and hastily pulling his shoes. Of all the days to be late!
--
When Tsuna burst into the classroom, yanking the door open hastily, every pair of eyes (including a distrustful, achingly familiar pair of grey eyes) snapped to him. “Sawada!” snapped Nezu-sensei. “You’re late!”
“So sorry, sensei,” Tsuna apologized quickly, giving the man a short nod, and he really was sorry, just not to Nezu-sensei. As he moved to his desk, he felt Gokudera-kun’s hard stare on his back the entire time (dark, disapproving, nearly hateful which nearly tipped the world on its head), and wanted to sink into the floor; out of the furthest reaches of his mind, Tsuna barely remembered a time when Gokudera Hayato did not like him. (“Che,” he muttered, kicking Tsuna’s desk suddenly.) Tsuna had been confused, but now-since even Gokudera-kun didn’t think he was up to mafia standards-he felt even more like a failure (“Dame Tsuna.”) and tried to sink back in his chair a little bit more.
“Gokudera-kun? Your seat is over… Gokudera-kun?” tried Nezu-sensei.
Instead, Gokudera-kun stalked down to Tsuna’s seat and kicked it suddenly; it was like in a movie, where everything was moving slowly and you knew exactly what was going to happen, exactly, because you’d seen it before, but you can’t move anyway. Déjà vu, thought Tsuna dryly, perhaps the only one in the classroom unsurprised.
“You know him, Tsuna?” a classmate dared to ask.
Do I know him? Asking him if he knew Gokudera-kun was like asking if the Taipei 101 was tall. Of course he did. (“Tenth!” exclaimed his right-hand man. “You’re back!” The grin that greeted him felt just like home.)
But he didn’t, not yet. Back to the present, Tsuna told himself, trying to hold a wave of grief inside. This is the present, and I do not know Gokudera-kun. I don’t know who he is or what he likes or what he wants to be. I don’t know anything.
He’d talk to him afterwards. Or, if things went like before, Gokudera-kun would catch him.
-
Sheesh, he’d almost forgotten about the three bullies standing in front of him. It’d been so long since he’d been bullied at all, since Gokudera-kun and Yamamoto-kun had always been there to defend him. And then, after that Tsuna had been able to take care of himself.
Now that he stood in front of them, Tsuna almost remembered a time he would have run, screaming apologies (“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m reaaaally sorry!”), but now… after guys who could shoot fire out of guns? Could tangle you in an illusion and kill you before you realized it? Could borrow the knowledge from other worlds and use it against you?
Yeah. These guys just weren’t intimidating anymore (and honestly, he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing).
But apparently, they hadn’t caught on yet how unintimidating they were. “Ouch,” said one sempai, grinning. “I might have broken a bone.” As if breaking his bone was the worst injury he could get.
(Have you ever been burned? Slit and gutted? Bitten and strangled by snakes? Not a chance.)
Tsuna paused, mulling in his mind how to best respond to that statement, and shrugged. “If that’s what it takes to break your bone, you need more calcium.”
When in doubt, throw in a non sequitur.
“Eh-what?” the other growled, after he finally realized he was being insulted. He and his two friends advanced slowly-like three swaggering geese trying to intimidate a-well. Tsuna didn’t know what he was anymore. Certainly not a frightened little herbivore anymore.
(“Herbivore,” Hibari-san hissed from behind him; Tsuna whirled around, every nerve in his body on alert, but for once Hibari-san didn’t look like he was up to fighting. The sweat, the blood, the entirely shaken look on his face that didn’t look right, would never look right, because Hibari-san was invincible and unbreakable and terrifying and Hibari-san like that. Maybe it was the years and years and years of murder finally catching up to him. Maybe it was the fact that he’d only returned from a three week torture session before Tsuna had sent him on a new missionmassacremission.
He tried to keep the regret, grief, apology behind his eyes. Hibari-san didn’t want, never wanted pity, and would attack him in an instant, which would be nearly suicidal in his condition because Hibari-san was already injured. Badly.
So instead, he said, “Good work,” and hated himself all the more for it.)
Tsuna shook himself out of it. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’tthinkaboutit-
The three bullies were still standing in front of him, as if no time had passed at all, and Tsuna hadn’t really flashed back to that moment, and he hadn’t really remembered anything. “Sorry,” he lied between his teeth-was that the Mukuro in him? Lying had never been this easy before-“I’ve got to go.”
“What makes you think-” the sempai started, but Tsuna had already slipped away before they could stop him.
Outside-(he’d been stuck so long in that underground base that he had almost forgotten what sunlight felt like, bold, warm sunlight untainted by smoke and dust and the smell of blood)-Gokudera-kun was waiting for him.
Gokudera Hayato and his crazy dynamite-how was he going to deal with this again?
He knew the look on his face. Gokudera-kun was eyeing him suspiciously, gaging him mentally, analyzing him. He knew that look because Reborn had given it to him when Tsuna had revealed his dreammemorydream, and it hurt just as it had then. Felt like a pike digging into his chest. It almost hurt to breathe…
Tsuna almost forgot to breathe. Haven’t seen his face in a while, said a distant, snide voice that was not entirely his own in his head. So young. So childish. He looks almost innocent without the blackened edges of death marking his face.
“You’re pathetic,” scowled Gokudera finally, a hint of triumph in his voice.
Pathetic. When was the last time he’d been called pathetic? (“Pathetic,” sneered his captor, slamming a metal-toed boot down on his fingers. There was a harsh crack as bones snapped under the weight; the man laughed as Tsuna cried out. “Can’t even bear a little pain. Guess the Decimo’s not so strong after all.”)
He hadn’t even noticed when he began rubbing his fingers together, as if they might shatter at any moment. Gokudera-kun was looking at him strangely. Do you often remember memories that aren’t yours? He might have inquired politely in some other world.
Only if those memories are right in front of me, Tsuna might have responded.
Eventually, Gokudera-kun snorted. “Che-figures. You can’t even pay attention if an enemy’s right in front of you. If a pinprick like you becomes the Tenth, the Vongola Family is finished.”
Tsuna started to say something to the effect of What, you think I wanted to become the Tenth? A job where every day is an occupational hazard? But then Gokudera-kun immediately turned around and snarled, “I refuse to accept it. I’m the one who’s fit to be the tenth!”
Wait-what?
He had only seen bits and pieces of the life he’d apparently lived in some other universe. He knew that. And he knew he’d probably missed seeing some really important memories, too. But Tsuna’d known Gokudera-kun, really known him, because he was his right hand man, and that was not the type of thing Gokudera-kun would say. So, yeah. What the heck?
Tsuna blurted out, “You want to be the Tenth Vongola boss?” because he meant, why would anyone want to be a mafia boss? but it must have sounded like why would you, a weakling, want to be the Tenth? because after staring stupidly at him for a moment, Gokudera-kun snarled furiously.
“What-you’re mocking me? You’ll die right here!” -and he pulled out two sticks of dynamite and lobbed them at Tsuna.
Whattheheckisthat why is he throwing his DYNAMITE AT ME?! Panicking, Tsuna leapt back a few feet and started running (because if there was one thing he could do for sure, it was running away from danger) as the sticks dropped-one second, and their fires were nearly touching the cylindrical case of gunpowder-two seconds-
Out of the corner of his eye, Tsuna saw a flash of black and orange in the tree behind them and the barest reflection of a black Beretta, and heard the familiar blast that accompanied a shot. Reborn, he thought immediately-and wondered when on earth had he been so accustomed to gunshots that he could now tell who pulled the trigger?
He blinked, and the fires on the dynamite were out. The dynamite sticks clacked against the ground and rolled, now harmless.
“Ciaossu,” Reborn greeted with a hint of smugness because he’d just shot the fires out on two falling sticks of dynamite because he was the world’s greatest hitman like that.
Tsuna almost rolled his eyes. Almost. You didn’t know Reborn for as long as he did and escape (mostly) unscathed and not know that rolling your eyes at Reborn is suicidal.
“Reborn,” muttered Gokudera-kun resentfully. Apparently he had really been looking forward to blowing Tsuna up for the sake of testing him, protection of the Vongola Family, etc., etc.
“You came earlier than I expected, Gokudera Hayato.” Which was so not true because Reborn had told him that morning that Gokudera-kun was going to come. How tricky. (“Just what I love in a man,” a woman’s voice sighed dreamily.)-Tsuna’s mind halted. There was actually a woman in the world that could love Reborn? That was disturbing thought. She had to be as crazy as him, and if the future Tsuna had met her once… he was not looking forward to that.
Bianchi, a tiny voice whispered. Scorpion.
“Tsuna. This is a member of the family I called over from Italy.” There was an edge to Reborn’s words. Tsuna glanced up, and took in Gokudera-kun’s strange stare again, and the barest warning in Reborn’s eyes.
What… Oh. Had he really blanked out again? “Sorry,” he mumbled, flushing. This was happening way too many times. “Didn’t… um, sleep well last night. So you said you’re from Italy?” (“Try to change the subject without the target noticing.” “Wait, what target?” “Dame Tsuna. You fail.”)
It didn’t look like Gokudera-kun fell for it, either. Instead, the bomber turned to Reborn. “You're not kidding about me becoming a candidate as the successor if I kill Sawada, right?”
“Sure,” replied Reborn cheerfully.
Tsuna stared at both of them in disbelief. “Wait, what?” Had Reborn really just-promised Gokudera the Decimo seat if he killed him?! There was absolutely no way Tsuna would have forgotten something like that. And-there was no way Reborn would-would-
(“Dame Tsuna,” mocked Reborn lightly; “I knew you’d react just like that if I told you.”)-(“Your tutor was smart. I would have been able to take over you, if he’d told you. How lucky.” Mukuro-san managed a grim smile, but even Tsuna could see the illusionist’s hands shaking even as they pressed against the hole in his side)-(He hated, hated, hated not being told anything, like he was something to protect-he was the Decimo, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he?) And of course. This morning.
(“Don’t make the mistake that I am in any way the same Reborn that you remember from your memories. I’m not.”)
A sudden loathing surged through him.
“Reborn,” Tsuna snapped in a low, sharp voice quivering with rage-was that really his voice? Just like a boss’s, just like the Ninth’s when he was stern or infuriated or both, and just a second away from lighting the Dying Will Flame and burning you to ashes-“You are going to tell me, now, what the h-- is happening. Because you will regret it if this is what it looks like.”
The temperature dropped several degrees. Gokudera-kun was looking terrified now, the expression on his face torn between who is this and oh d-- did I actually just say I’d kill him and who is this and why is he THREATENING REBORN which NO sane mafioso would do on any day of the year-
But Reborn didn’t seem mad at all. After fixing a carefully neutral, uncomprehending stare on Tsuna, Reborn suddenly smirked-as if he’d just figured out some riddle meant to stump him-and hopped down from the windowsill.
Tsuna’s glare never left him.
“Dame Tsuna,” the baby drawled. “What you’re thinking is wrong. I want you to fight.”
Tsuna’s anger faltered. He wanted me to fight Gokudera-kun-“What?” he exclaimed, before horror set in. “Reborn! You set up this entire thing because you wanted me to fight him?” (“Reborn has a unique way of doing things, doesn’t he?” Dino said, and they shared a nervous laugh after warily glancing around to make sure said baby wasn’t around.)
Then came wait what the heck did I actually THREATEN REBORN-
Quickly, Tsuna dropped to his knees and started apologizing-(and it came out something like) “OhgoshReborn I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize what I was doing, all I was thinking was about something that happened in the future-”
“Dame Tsuna,” Reborn interrupted amusedly before he could spill anything more. “Apologize by fighting instead.”
Tsuna looked up as Gokudera realized what he’d actually been called over for. “Wait,” the grey-haired bomber growled. “Then I was just a test-”
“If you’re mad then fight him,” suggested Reborn, motioning to Tsuna before jumping out of Gokudera’s path.
“You’re dead,” Gokudera snarled, pulling out two handfuls of dynamite sticks and lighting them with his cigarette.
I’m dead, Tsuna thought.
No gloves. No Nuts. No Dying Will Flames. How was he going to defeat Gokudera-kun and make him his subordinate without being shot by the Dying Will Bullet? (Because there was no way Tsuna was going through that again.)
He glanced around quickly-stupid staff, or whoever cleaned up the school and threw away anything that he could use as a weapon-and started running. Yeah. Defensive for now.
Gokudera tossed the dynamite at him.
But he’d underestimated Tsuna’s ability to run very, very fast in dangerous situations. Tsuna ducked, terrified, and kept running, determined to get as far away as possible, because he couldn’t die here, not yet, he had so much to do-
From the windowsill, Reborn’s grin widened as he very clearly cocked his gun. Dying Will Bullet time.
Not if Tsuna could help it.
What can I do, what can I do-(“Come on, Tsuna, use your brain,” grumbled Dino, and Tsuna couldn’t blame him after two hours of unfruitful studying)-Long range. Gokudera-kun’s long range. He uses his dynamite before opponents can get close. But if I can get close-
“Ah!” Tsuna yelped as dynamite landed near his foot. He raised his arm in front of his face instinctively as it exploded in front of his face. The sheer force of the blast sent Tsuna stumbling a few paces back-At least these bombs don’t release gas when they’re set off-and came face-to-face with the side of a school building. More walls on both sides-how’d he been so stupid to run into a dead end?
He whirled around, but it was too late-Gokudera-kun was already approaching, menacingly. Tsuna had to do something, but what could he do against a trained mafioso?
“It’s over,” sneered Gokudera-kun, before pulling out more sticks and lighting them.
This is it, this is it chanted in Tsuna’s head, matching the beating of his heart-It was all over, it was all over…
The barrel of Reborn’s gun lowered, and he knew that the bullet that came out of that gun would be right to his forehead-
If I can get close, reminded a voice. If I can get close.
Tsuna wasn’t the suicidal one in his Family. That was his Guardians’ job-landing themselves in risky positions and generally making Tsuna worried, even though they could probably take care of themselves. Except for that one time with Byakuran, Tsuna kept out of danger’s way if he could (which wasn’t often, but…).
But he had his moments.
As the dynamite descended, slowly, Tsuna took a breath and pushed off the wall-and ran.
It was absolutely terrifying, running in between the falling sticks of dynamite-Tsuna could almost see the fuses on the dynamite shortening as the fires eagerly ate away the fibers. One of the sticks touched his neck as he ran, another brushed against his arm and barely scorched the skin, and he nearly tripped over a stick that’d already fallen to the ground.
Gokudera-kun was frozen as he approached-hopefully, by the time he regained his senses Tsuna would be too close for him to blow up, and Gokudera-kun would just give up. Or he’d probably resort to physical blows, but at least the dynamite would be out of the way-
Wait, what is Gokudera-kun doing taking out MORE DYNAMITE-
He wasn’t going to stop. He was going to blow them both up, if that’s what it took.
The Gokudera-kun I knew would never be so risky-but that was the problem, wasn’t it?
Without thinking (isn’t that how he usually got into these situations?), Tsuna threw himself at Gokudera-kun, knocking the other boy to the ground. Behind him, dynamite started exploding, but Tsuna ignored the sound. The dynamite sticks, already lit, were still between Gokudera’s knuckles-and Tsuna (again, without thinking!) began pinching the fires out with his fingers.
He tried not to cry out as his skin burned-Ouch, that really hurt. (“Stop making that face,” ordered Haru-chan crossly. “Haven’t you been through worse before?”) But Gokudera-kun was okay. He was okay.
One more pinch-and the last fuse was out.
Sighing in relief, Tsuna climbed off Gokudera-kun and dropped onto the ground a few feet away. His whole body was still trembling from the adrenaline and shock, like he’d just fought someone he almost didn’t win against, or get away from. But he had only run-not for the first time, Tsuna wished he’d been more active before he met Reborn.
“You-why did you do that?”
Gokudera, no longer brimming with rage, had a bewildered and slightly lost gaze in his eyes. He regarded Tsuna warily, but at least he hadn’t pulled out more dynamite.
“You mean, why did I put out those fuses?”
A nod.
“Look,” Tsuna said, staring straight into Gokudera-kun’s eyes. “I’m not mafia, so-all of that mafia honor and stuff, I wouldn’t know. But-” (Gokudera-kun, dragging himself out of the smoke, because the fireworks, he wanted to see them again) “you can’t just throw your life away like that! Not so carelessly. Yeah, I do think there are times when you need to take that risk-”
“Like what you just did.”
“Oh-um, yeah, I guess,” Tsuna relented sheepishly. “That was pretty risky, wasn’t it?”
A wry grin spread on Gokudera-kun’s face, before he suddenly slammed his forehead into the ground-Oh, wait. He was kneeling?
“I was wrong!” he exclaimed. “You are fit to be the Tenth!”
“Gah!” Tsuna replied eloquently, still trying to accept the fact that even though he didn’t really want to be a mafia boss, he was still gaining Guardians, anyway. “Really! It’s not a big deal,” he tried to say.
Well, he tried.
Gokudera-kun looked up, eyes filled with nothing but admiration and awe. And an unhealthy amount of hero-worship. “Tenth! I’ll follow you!” he declared loudly, right next to the school so that every person in class could hear him-“Command me to do anything!”
“What the heck-”
“Actually, I didn’t really want to become the Tenth,” Gokudera-kun confessed. “It’s just… I heard the Tenth was a Japanese kid the same age as me, and I felt I had to test his strength. But you’re much more than I expected! For putting yourself on the line to save me, I’ll place my life in your hands!”
“No, it’s really okay-” because he didn’t really want a subordinate, he just wanted a friend-
“Good job, Tsuna,” Reborn complimented, hopping down from the windowsill. “You’ve gained a subordinate.”
Tsuna covered his face with his hands and sighed. “Why is it always me?” he wondered aloud.
-
Ninth.
I’d like to tell you that all is well, but that’s not the case. Don’t worry. Tsuna’s fine. But he’s been acting strangely
(He lifted the pen; reread; frowned in dissatisfaction; crumpled it up, and into the trash it goes.)
Ninth.
Two days ago Tsuna had a dream
(He paused; snorted; scribbled it out; crumpled it up, and into the trash it goes.)
(Another pause; finally-)
Ninth.
Tsuna’s fine.
Reborn
-----
chapter 1 | 2 | 3
--
(friends are supposed to hold you up, not blow you apart…)
chapter three
--
By the morning, Reborn had returned to his usual cheeky self, which was either good or bad-and maybe both.
“Reborn! What the h--!” Tsuna screamed, stumbling into the kitchen and coughing furiously. Behind him, white smoke tumbled down the stairs. “You had to detonate a stupid grenade in my room to wake me up?!” (He’d almost murdered his lampstand, which had really looked like an enemy before he realized what an utter jerk Reborn was.)
The baby calmly ignored him and continued to sip his coffee in a distinctly Reborn way-he was a master at pretending not to laugh and making it very clear that he was. “A boss should always be prepared for anything,” he intoned smugly.
Tsuna scowled. “Not while I’m sleeping. I’ll have guards and my guardians for that.” ("Stupid herbivore," hissed the man as they ran-"Were you asleep? How could you let them sneak up on you?" Tsuna's chest twinged with guilt because Hibari was right-) But he ignored that.
“You don’t have any guardians yet,” reminded Reborn, and gave him a look that said silently: would you care to enlighten me? Which was an order in Reborn-ese.
Still resentful from the morning wake-up explosion, Tsuna collapsed into a seat next to the hitman (not that it mattered where he sat, because with barely any limbs to get in the way Reborn had a 360 degrees range). “You’ve called Gokudera Hayato already, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. He’ll be my storm guardian.” Reaching for the cereal, he grabbed the box and poured himself a bowl. Ew. It was the healthy cereal that Mom always bought, the one that had bran and tasted like sawdust. (“Tastes like home,” commented another soldier, filling himself on the food they’d managed to dig out from the remains of a grocery store. As Tsuna stared down at the familiar label on the box, he agreed; then proceeded to nearly choke on the dry bran.)
“And the rest?”
“Do you really have to know that?” The exasperated words flew out of his mouth, and in a second Reborn swiftly kicked him sharply in the shoulder. “Ouch! Fine. Besides Gokudera-kun, Yamamoto Takeshi, Bovino Lambo, Hibari Kyouya, Sasagawa Ryohei, Dokuro Chrome, and Rokudo Mukuro.”
Reborn frowned. “That’s seven guardians.”
“Right,” Tsuna said after shoving another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Rokudo Mukuro and Dokuro Chrome both occupy the Mist guardian spot. After a series of events, Mukuro-san ended up in prison but can kind of… possess Chrome-san when he wants. Like a dual existence. I don’t really know how he does it, but anyway, it works.”
“I see,” replied Reborn slowly. He was probably going to investigate Mukuro-san and Chrome-san-no, scratch that. He’d probably investigate every one of his guardians.
A sudden thought sprang into Tsuna’s mind. “Reborn! Don’t scare off my guardians, okay?”
Reborn smirked. “Dame Tsuna. Now why would I do that?”
“Hey, I mean it! They were good guardians,” said Tsuna quietly. (He stood in front of a clearing, but instead of seven peoplefriendsFAMILY standing around him, there were seven clean, new gravestones.) Reborn must have noticed the past tense, as his smirk tightened minutely.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” the hitman replied before hopping down from the chair and walking away. “Dame-Tsuna, Smokin’ Bomb Hayato is arriving at your school today. I’ve already promised him something interesting…”
But Reborn’s voice seemed to be coming from the bottom of a deep well, as it trailed off into nothing. The kitchen buzzed and faded out like a hologram; the ceiling rolled back to sky, brilliant blue sky; green overtook the beige walls and he was standing, just standing in the middle of the clearing.
(His famiglia’s names in front of him, surrounding him, facing him; Tsuna turned around and around, stumbling around as if he were blind, seeing trees just trees and gravestones and coffins and their bloodied faces, oh gosh-looking, their names were just looking at him, saying See what you did? See what you did? This is all-your-fault!
“No,” he’d choked hoarsely. Yes, they told him. It’s your fault.
Was it really his fault? All of it, all of it-choosing that day to attack, h--, even thinking of fighting Vendice, of all the harebrained ideas he’d had before-“Boss has to make the decision,” Chrome had told him plainly, utterly serious when he’d asked her what to do; “But whatever he chooses, it’s the guardians’ responsibility to follow him to the death.” It’d been true, hadn’t it?
He collapsed onto the grass, sobbing)-Tsuna hadn’t even realized when his hands started to shake, or the world turning sideways as he slipped from the table chair onto the floor, or when Reborn suddenly appeared before him and called his name, again and again-(If only, if only! They are all dead, just dead and gone and what can I do? What do I do? There is nothing left, nothing at all, no Vongola to lead and no family to help me-a leader of nothing is no one at all-
Tsuna ripped off his gloves, the trusty, well-worn gloves that had served him as a weapon well for years-that-had-seemed-like-an-entire-lifetime, and threw them across the clearing. “If I hadn’t become the Decimo,” he screamed at the air, because no one was around to hear him-“If I hadn’t been anything at all-if I hadn’t tried so hard-if I hadn’t won against Xanxus, if I’d just let him take the f-- ring!” He yanked the ring off his fingers (just get it off); this, too he flung away.
“If I had been stronger,” he whispered shakily-“or weaker or anything else, would this have happened? Would you all be dead if I hadn’t accepted the inheritance? Where would you be? Where would I be?” He thought back-Byakuran and his alternate universes. He’d been smart. If he made a mistake, he could simply jump to another world.
But there was no chance of that now. Lambo’s Bazooka was gone; it had already been destroyed in the fighting, along with every other working Bovino invention. It had just been too dangerous after I-pin and Lambo had nearly died as a result of some greedy Bovino selling an invention to an enemy mafioso.
Tsuna bent over, shivering and choking and sick all at once; if only he could tell his younger self what stupid mistakes he’d made, so he could avoid them and all of this death-if only he could send his-
Wait.
He snapped up, mind working furiously. Hadn’t Shouichi and Spanner been experimenting with alternate universes? Hadn’t they built that machine-
For once in such a long time, hope beat its wings in his heart.)
“… Tsuna. Tsuna!”
“W… What?” Tsuna mumbled groggily, disoriented and dizzy. There were small black feet in front of him, and he was lying on some hard surface-wait, that was-“Reborn?”
“Dame-Tsuna.” Was Tsuna still confused, or was that actually relief he was hearing in Reborn’s voice?
Then he realized where he was and what he was doing because he’d just collapsed in front of Reborn, and if that wasn’t suspicious, what was? “Sorry,” he muttered hastily, finding some strength in his arms (they weren’t still shaking, were they? No; just numb) and pushing himself up.
“That wasn’t a dream,” noted Reborn pointedly, sharply, suspiciously; any semblance of relief was gone from his voice.
“I know,” Tsuna said, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Sometimes it just happens. Like, sometimes I’m doing something, and a memory will flash in my head. Or someone’s words. Or whatever.
“Has it ever been this… extreme before?”
Just the word extreme made him want to snort, then wince at once; he couldn’t think of anything extreme now and not think of Nii-san’s enthusiastic face. Anyway- “It’s never been like that before. But-Reborn! I think I know why I’m had that dream!” Tsuna exclaimed, gesturing excitedly. “I was in a clearing, where-w-well… there were seven graves there,” (green grass; blue sky, but no clouds no sun no rain no storm no mist--) Tsuna shook himself out of it. Now was not the time to daze off. “A-Anyway, I-I mean, the future me-was wishing I could have stopped all of this, and then remembered something Spanner-san and Shouichi-kun had been experimenting with, something like what Byakuran did, with alternate universes and all that…”
Reborn stared back at him blankly.
“Um, two friends. They were inventors,” Tsuna explained sheepishly. “And the machine they built-well, it worked, right? The future Tsuna sent his memories back to me.”
Reborn muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like an Italian curse. “So the future was really that bad.”
Faltering just for a moment, struggling to keep the memories behind doors, Tsuna nodded. “It was just war,” he said, the words echoing in his head (just war, only war, war and nothing else).
“So then we have to avoid doing what you did in your memories.” Reborn scowled. “But you still have to become the Decimo.”
“No way!” exclaimed Tsuna. “Reborn, you know me. You know I’m not a boss!”
Reborn stilled, and when he spoke, his words were hard and cold, like the cool black metal of his gun. “Don’t make the mistake, Tsunayoshi,” he snapped, “that I am in any way the same Reborn that you remember from your memories. I’m not. I do not know you, and I do not know what you will become. So don’t speak to me as if I am him.”
(This is the killer Reborn. This is the man the Ninth sent to eliminate the entire De Caente family. You can’t trust him, not yet…)
Tsuna swallowed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t-it’s so easy-” You’re the Tenth. You’re the Tenth. And he’s the best hitman in the world. Even he could tell his little blunder had, in some way, triggered a landmine.
So-pulling himself upright, he looked Reborn in the eye, and dropped his head, because he was the Tenth, he was the Tenth, and a proper mafia boss knows how to apologize, that’s all. “Reborn. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to address you in that way, and I won’t make such a mistake again.”
After a moment, Reborn nodded once (“That’s how you show you’ve accepted the apology, see?” explained Colonello. “That’s the mafia way of saying, ‘It’s okay.’ Though-it doesn’t happen often, ‘cause we’re mafia.” A laugh.). “See that it doesn’t.”
“All I meant,” continued Tsuna carefully, “is that-” how to word this, how to word this! “There are better options for the Vongola boss. Like Xanxus. He even wants the job. I’m not really… mafia material. I’m not strong, I’m not cold-hearted-”
“Were you?” asked Reborn pointedly, and at Tsuna’s hesitation he turned away. “I need to check into some stuff. In the meantime, you should be leaving for school.”
Tsuna glanced at the clock oh snap when had it gotten that late!? “Shoot! See you, Reborn!” he called, grabbing his bag by the door and hastily pulling his shoes. Of all the days to be late!
--
When Tsuna burst into the classroom, yanking the door open hastily, every pair of eyes (including a distrustful, achingly familiar pair of grey eyes) snapped to him. “Sawada!” snapped Nezu-sensei. “You’re late!”
“So sorry, sensei,” Tsuna apologized quickly, giving the man a short nod, and he really was sorry, just not to Nezu-sensei. As he moved to his desk, he felt Gokudera-kun’s hard stare on his back the entire time (dark, disapproving, nearly hateful which nearly tipped the world on its head), and wanted to sink into the floor; out of the furthest reaches of his mind, Tsuna barely remembered a time when Gokudera Hayato did not like him. (“Che,” he muttered, kicking Tsuna’s desk suddenly.) Tsuna had been confused, but now-since even Gokudera-kun didn’t think he was up to mafia standards-he felt even more like a failure (“Dame Tsuna.”) and tried to sink back in his chair a little bit more.
“Gokudera-kun? Your seat is over… Gokudera-kun?” tried Nezu-sensei.
Instead, Gokudera-kun stalked down to Tsuna’s seat and kicked it suddenly; it was like in a movie, where everything was moving slowly and you knew exactly what was going to happen, exactly, because you’d seen it before, but you can’t move anyway. Déjà vu, thought Tsuna dryly, perhaps the only one in the classroom unsurprised.
“You know him, Tsuna?” a classmate dared to ask.
Do I know him? Asking him if he knew Gokudera-kun was like asking if the Taipei 101 was tall. Of course he did. (“Tenth!” exclaimed his right-hand man. “You’re back!” The grin that greeted him felt just like home.)
But he didn’t, not yet. Back to the present, Tsuna told himself, trying to hold a wave of grief inside. This is the present, and I do not know Gokudera-kun. I don’t know who he is or what he likes or what he wants to be. I don’t know anything.
He’d talk to him afterwards. Or, if things went like before, Gokudera-kun would catch him.
-
Sheesh, he’d almost forgotten about the three bullies standing in front of him. It’d been so long since he’d been bullied at all, since Gokudera-kun and Yamamoto-kun had always been there to defend him. And then, after that Tsuna had been able to take care of himself.
Now that he stood in front of them, Tsuna almost remembered a time he would have run, screaming apologies (“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m reaaaally sorry!”), but now… after guys who could shoot fire out of guns? Could tangle you in an illusion and kill you before you realized it? Could borrow the knowledge from other worlds and use it against you?
Yeah. These guys just weren’t intimidating anymore (and honestly, he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing).
But apparently, they hadn’t caught on yet how unintimidating they were. “Ouch,” said one sempai, grinning. “I might have broken a bone.” As if breaking his bone was the worst injury he could get.
(Have you ever been burned? Slit and gutted? Bitten and strangled by snakes? Not a chance.)
Tsuna paused, mulling in his mind how to best respond to that statement, and shrugged. “If that’s what it takes to break your bone, you need more calcium.”
When in doubt, throw in a non sequitur.
“Eh-what?” the other growled, after he finally realized he was being insulted. He and his two friends advanced slowly-like three swaggering geese trying to intimidate a-well. Tsuna didn’t know what he was anymore. Certainly not a frightened little herbivore anymore.
(“Herbivore,” Hibari-san hissed from behind him; Tsuna whirled around, every nerve in his body on alert, but for once Hibari-san didn’t look like he was up to fighting. The sweat, the blood, the entirely shaken look on his face that didn’t look right, would never look right, because Hibari-san was invincible and unbreakable and terrifying and Hibari-san like that. Maybe it was the years and years and years of murder finally catching up to him. Maybe it was the fact that he’d only returned from a three week torture session before Tsuna had sent him on a new missionmassacremission.
He tried to keep the regret, grief, apology behind his eyes. Hibari-san didn’t want, never wanted pity, and would attack him in an instant, which would be nearly suicidal in his condition because Hibari-san was already injured. Badly.
So instead, he said, “Good work,” and hated himself all the more for it.)
Tsuna shook himself out of it. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’tthinkaboutit-
The three bullies were still standing in front of him, as if no time had passed at all, and Tsuna hadn’t really flashed back to that moment, and he hadn’t really remembered anything. “Sorry,” he lied between his teeth-was that the Mukuro in him? Lying had never been this easy before-“I’ve got to go.”
“What makes you think-” the sempai started, but Tsuna had already slipped away before they could stop him.
Outside-(he’d been stuck so long in that underground base that he had almost forgotten what sunlight felt like, bold, warm sunlight untainted by smoke and dust and the smell of blood)-Gokudera-kun was waiting for him.
Gokudera Hayato and his crazy dynamite-how was he going to deal with this again?
He knew the look on his face. Gokudera-kun was eyeing him suspiciously, gaging him mentally, analyzing him. He knew that look because Reborn had given it to him when Tsuna had revealed his dreammemorydream, and it hurt just as it had then. Felt like a pike digging into his chest. It almost hurt to breathe…
Tsuna almost forgot to breathe. Haven’t seen his face in a while, said a distant, snide voice that was not entirely his own in his head. So young. So childish. He looks almost innocent without the blackened edges of death marking his face.
“You’re pathetic,” scowled Gokudera finally, a hint of triumph in his voice.
Pathetic. When was the last time he’d been called pathetic? (“Pathetic,” sneered his captor, slamming a metal-toed boot down on his fingers. There was a harsh crack as bones snapped under the weight; the man laughed as Tsuna cried out. “Can’t even bear a little pain. Guess the Decimo’s not so strong after all.”)
He hadn’t even noticed when he began rubbing his fingers together, as if they might shatter at any moment. Gokudera-kun was looking at him strangely. Do you often remember memories that aren’t yours? He might have inquired politely in some other world.
Only if those memories are right in front of me, Tsuna might have responded.
Eventually, Gokudera-kun snorted. “Che-figures. You can’t even pay attention if an enemy’s right in front of you. If a pinprick like you becomes the Tenth, the Vongola Family is finished.”
Tsuna started to say something to the effect of What, you think I wanted to become the Tenth? A job where every day is an occupational hazard? But then Gokudera-kun immediately turned around and snarled, “I refuse to accept it. I’m the one who’s fit to be the tenth!”
Wait-what?
He had only seen bits and pieces of the life he’d apparently lived in some other universe. He knew that. And he knew he’d probably missed seeing some really important memories, too. But Tsuna’d known Gokudera-kun, really known him, because he was his right hand man, and that was not the type of thing Gokudera-kun would say. So, yeah. What the heck?
Tsuna blurted out, “You want to be the Tenth Vongola boss?” because he meant, why would anyone want to be a mafia boss? but it must have sounded like why would you, a weakling, want to be the Tenth? because after staring stupidly at him for a moment, Gokudera-kun snarled furiously.
“What-you’re mocking me? You’ll die right here!” -and he pulled out two sticks of dynamite and lobbed them at Tsuna.
Whattheheckisthat why is he throwing his DYNAMITE AT ME?! Panicking, Tsuna leapt back a few feet and started running (because if there was one thing he could do for sure, it was running away from danger) as the sticks dropped-one second, and their fires were nearly touching the cylindrical case of gunpowder-two seconds-
Out of the corner of his eye, Tsuna saw a flash of black and orange in the tree behind them and the barest reflection of a black Beretta, and heard the familiar blast that accompanied a shot. Reborn, he thought immediately-and wondered when on earth had he been so accustomed to gunshots that he could now tell who pulled the trigger?
He blinked, and the fires on the dynamite were out. The dynamite sticks clacked against the ground and rolled, now harmless.
“Ciaossu,” Reborn greeted with a hint of smugness because he’d just shot the fires out on two falling sticks of dynamite because he was the world’s greatest hitman like that.
Tsuna almost rolled his eyes. Almost. You didn’t know Reborn for as long as he did and escape (mostly) unscathed and not know that rolling your eyes at Reborn is suicidal.
“Reborn,” muttered Gokudera-kun resentfully. Apparently he had really been looking forward to blowing Tsuna up for the sake of testing him, protection of the Vongola Family, etc., etc.
“You came earlier than I expected, Gokudera Hayato.” Which was so not true because Reborn had told him that morning that Gokudera-kun was going to come. How tricky. (“Just what I love in a man,” a woman’s voice sighed dreamily.)-Tsuna’s mind halted. There was actually a woman in the world that could love Reborn? That was disturbing thought. She had to be as crazy as him, and if the future Tsuna had met her once… he was not looking forward to that.
Bianchi, a tiny voice whispered. Scorpion.
“Tsuna. This is a member of the family I called over from Italy.” There was an edge to Reborn’s words. Tsuna glanced up, and took in Gokudera-kun’s strange stare again, and the barest warning in Reborn’s eyes.
What… Oh. Had he really blanked out again? “Sorry,” he mumbled, flushing. This was happening way too many times. “Didn’t… um, sleep well last night. So you said you’re from Italy?” (“Try to change the subject without the target noticing.” “Wait, what target?” “Dame Tsuna. You fail.”)
It didn’t look like Gokudera-kun fell for it, either. Instead, the bomber turned to Reborn. “You're not kidding about me becoming a candidate as the successor if I kill Sawada, right?”
“Sure,” replied Reborn cheerfully.
Tsuna stared at both of them in disbelief. “Wait, what?” Had Reborn really just-promised Gokudera the Decimo seat if he killed him?! There was absolutely no way Tsuna would have forgotten something like that. And-there was no way Reborn would-would-
(“Dame Tsuna,” mocked Reborn lightly; “I knew you’d react just like that if I told you.”)-(“Your tutor was smart. I would have been able to take over you, if he’d told you. How lucky.” Mukuro-san managed a grim smile, but even Tsuna could see the illusionist’s hands shaking even as they pressed against the hole in his side)-(He hated, hated, hated not being told anything, like he was something to protect-he was the Decimo, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he?) And of course. This morning.
(“Don’t make the mistake that I am in any way the same Reborn that you remember from your memories. I’m not.”)
A sudden loathing surged through him.
“Reborn,” Tsuna snapped in a low, sharp voice quivering with rage-was that really his voice? Just like a boss’s, just like the Ninth’s when he was stern or infuriated or both, and just a second away from lighting the Dying Will Flame and burning you to ashes-“You are going to tell me, now, what the h-- is happening. Because you will regret it if this is what it looks like.”
The temperature dropped several degrees. Gokudera-kun was looking terrified now, the expression on his face torn between who is this and oh d-- did I actually just say I’d kill him and who is this and why is he THREATENING REBORN which NO sane mafioso would do on any day of the year-
But Reborn didn’t seem mad at all. After fixing a carefully neutral, uncomprehending stare on Tsuna, Reborn suddenly smirked-as if he’d just figured out some riddle meant to stump him-and hopped down from the windowsill.
Tsuna’s glare never left him.
“Dame Tsuna,” the baby drawled. “What you’re thinking is wrong. I want you to fight.”
Tsuna’s anger faltered. He wanted me to fight Gokudera-kun-“What?” he exclaimed, before horror set in. “Reborn! You set up this entire thing because you wanted me to fight him?” (“Reborn has a unique way of doing things, doesn’t he?” Dino said, and they shared a nervous laugh after warily glancing around to make sure said baby wasn’t around.)
Then came wait what the heck did I actually THREATEN REBORN-
Quickly, Tsuna dropped to his knees and started apologizing-(and it came out something like) “OhgoshReborn I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize what I was doing, all I was thinking was about something that happened in the future-”
“Dame Tsuna,” Reborn interrupted amusedly before he could spill anything more. “Apologize by fighting instead.”
Tsuna looked up as Gokudera realized what he’d actually been called over for. “Wait,” the grey-haired bomber growled. “Then I was just a test-”
“If you’re mad then fight him,” suggested Reborn, motioning to Tsuna before jumping out of Gokudera’s path.
“You’re dead,” Gokudera snarled, pulling out two handfuls of dynamite sticks and lighting them with his cigarette.
I’m dead, Tsuna thought.
No gloves. No Nuts. No Dying Will Flames. How was he going to defeat Gokudera-kun and make him his subordinate without being shot by the Dying Will Bullet? (Because there was no way Tsuna was going through that again.)
He glanced around quickly-stupid staff, or whoever cleaned up the school and threw away anything that he could use as a weapon-and started running. Yeah. Defensive for now.
Gokudera tossed the dynamite at him.
But he’d underestimated Tsuna’s ability to run very, very fast in dangerous situations. Tsuna ducked, terrified, and kept running, determined to get as far away as possible, because he couldn’t die here, not yet, he had so much to do-
From the windowsill, Reborn’s grin widened as he very clearly cocked his gun. Dying Will Bullet time.
Not if Tsuna could help it.
What can I do, what can I do-(“Come on, Tsuna, use your brain,” grumbled Dino, and Tsuna couldn’t blame him after two hours of unfruitful studying)-Long range. Gokudera-kun’s long range. He uses his dynamite before opponents can get close. But if I can get close-
“Ah!” Tsuna yelped as dynamite landed near his foot. He raised his arm in front of his face instinctively as it exploded in front of his face. The sheer force of the blast sent Tsuna stumbling a few paces back-At least these bombs don’t release gas when they’re set off-and came face-to-face with the side of a school building. More walls on both sides-how’d he been so stupid to run into a dead end?
He whirled around, but it was too late-Gokudera-kun was already approaching, menacingly. Tsuna had to do something, but what could he do against a trained mafioso?
“It’s over,” sneered Gokudera-kun, before pulling out more sticks and lighting them.
This is it, this is it chanted in Tsuna’s head, matching the beating of his heart-It was all over, it was all over…
The barrel of Reborn’s gun lowered, and he knew that the bullet that came out of that gun would be right to his forehead-
If I can get close, reminded a voice. If I can get close.
Tsuna wasn’t the suicidal one in his Family. That was his Guardians’ job-landing themselves in risky positions and generally making Tsuna worried, even though they could probably take care of themselves. Except for that one time with Byakuran, Tsuna kept out of danger’s way if he could (which wasn’t often, but…).
But he had his moments.
As the dynamite descended, slowly, Tsuna took a breath and pushed off the wall-and ran.
It was absolutely terrifying, running in between the falling sticks of dynamite-Tsuna could almost see the fuses on the dynamite shortening as the fires eagerly ate away the fibers. One of the sticks touched his neck as he ran, another brushed against his arm and barely scorched the skin, and he nearly tripped over a stick that’d already fallen to the ground.
Gokudera-kun was frozen as he approached-hopefully, by the time he regained his senses Tsuna would be too close for him to blow up, and Gokudera-kun would just give up. Or he’d probably resort to physical blows, but at least the dynamite would be out of the way-
Wait, what is Gokudera-kun doing taking out MORE DYNAMITE-
He wasn’t going to stop. He was going to blow them both up, if that’s what it took.
The Gokudera-kun I knew would never be so risky-but that was the problem, wasn’t it?
Without thinking (isn’t that how he usually got into these situations?), Tsuna threw himself at Gokudera-kun, knocking the other boy to the ground. Behind him, dynamite started exploding, but Tsuna ignored the sound. The dynamite sticks, already lit, were still between Gokudera’s knuckles-and Tsuna (again, without thinking!) began pinching the fires out with his fingers.
He tried not to cry out as his skin burned-Ouch, that really hurt. (“Stop making that face,” ordered Haru-chan crossly. “Haven’t you been through worse before?”) But Gokudera-kun was okay. He was okay.
One more pinch-and the last fuse was out.
Sighing in relief, Tsuna climbed off Gokudera-kun and dropped onto the ground a few feet away. His whole body was still trembling from the adrenaline and shock, like he’d just fought someone he almost didn’t win against, or get away from. But he had only run-not for the first time, Tsuna wished he’d been more active before he met Reborn.
“You-why did you do that?”
Gokudera, no longer brimming with rage, had a bewildered and slightly lost gaze in his eyes. He regarded Tsuna warily, but at least he hadn’t pulled out more dynamite.
“You mean, why did I put out those fuses?”
A nod.
“Look,” Tsuna said, staring straight into Gokudera-kun’s eyes. “I’m not mafia, so-all of that mafia honor and stuff, I wouldn’t know. But-” (Gokudera-kun, dragging himself out of the smoke, because the fireworks, he wanted to see them again) “you can’t just throw your life away like that! Not so carelessly. Yeah, I do think there are times when you need to take that risk-”
“Like what you just did.”
“Oh-um, yeah, I guess,” Tsuna relented sheepishly. “That was pretty risky, wasn’t it?”
A wry grin spread on Gokudera-kun’s face, before he suddenly slammed his forehead into the ground-Oh, wait. He was kneeling?
“I was wrong!” he exclaimed. “You are fit to be the Tenth!”
“Gah!” Tsuna replied eloquently, still trying to accept the fact that even though he didn’t really want to be a mafia boss, he was still gaining Guardians, anyway. “Really! It’s not a big deal,” he tried to say.
Well, he tried.
Gokudera-kun looked up, eyes filled with nothing but admiration and awe. And an unhealthy amount of hero-worship. “Tenth! I’ll follow you!” he declared loudly, right next to the school so that every person in class could hear him-“Command me to do anything!”
“What the heck-”
“Actually, I didn’t really want to become the Tenth,” Gokudera-kun confessed. “It’s just… I heard the Tenth was a Japanese kid the same age as me, and I felt I had to test his strength. But you’re much more than I expected! For putting yourself on the line to save me, I’ll place my life in your hands!”
“No, it’s really okay-” because he didn’t really want a subordinate, he just wanted a friend-
“Good job, Tsuna,” Reborn complimented, hopping down from the windowsill. “You’ve gained a subordinate.”
Tsuna covered his face with his hands and sighed. “Why is it always me?” he wondered aloud.
-
Ninth.
I’d like to tell you that all is well, but that’s not the case. Don’t worry. Tsuna’s fine. But he’s been acting strangely
(He lifted the pen; reread; frowned in dissatisfaction; crumpled it up, and into the trash it goes.)
Ninth.
Two days ago Tsuna had a dream
(He paused; snorted; scribbled it out; crumpled it up, and into the trash it goes.)
(Another pause; finally-)
Ninth.
Tsuna’s fine.
Reborn
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chapter 1 | 2 | 3