[KHR] yesterday's tomorrow (ch. 5)
(Before the mafia, a little comic relief never hurt anyone.)
chapter five
--
Tsuna peeked out from behind his bedroom door. Reborn hadn’t been in his hammock when Tsuna had woken up, which meant that he was outside, which meant that maybe he was going to follow through with his threat of “keeping Tsuna on guard” the day before. Hopefully not. Probably so. Either way, Tsuna was going to be on guard, and with luck, he would make it to school in one piece.
He was crossing his fingers, even though it seemed like whenever he was involved, Murphy’s Law took a step up. So far, everything appeared normal, but he wasn’t holding his breath for it.
Creeping down the stairs this carefully made him feel like a robber in his own house. That was depressing and certainly not alright, but when had Reborn’s arrival ever made things alright? No wonder he’d been so paranoid when he was older (and now look where he was! Scanning the premises in his own house for traps!). It’d been bred in the teenage Tsuna for years until it was second nature. Paranoia to a certain extent was good. He agreed with that. But beyond that, constantly? That would make him gray-haired by the time he was twenty-two. In fact, it did. And would.
Thankfully his hair was fairly light already.
Reborn was in fact not hiding in any of the rooms he passed on the way to the kitchen-although Tsuna found a suspiciously large amount of weaponry behind boxes, inside cases, and other obscure places. What was worse, Tsuna recognized all of the firearms, and even though there was enough firepower to blow up the entire town and he realized he’d actually memorized the names of dangerous objects. No… nothing could ever shock him anymore. When Tsuna entered the kitchen, he found Reborn there, calmly sipping his coffee.
“Good morning,” Reborn said without the slightest hint of a smirk.
The jerk. Like he hadn’t noticed Tsuna’s paranoia already.
“Morning.” Tsuna pulled out a chair and sat down. Mom had given him cereal again, that grainy stuff, just as she had for the last few days. The more he stared, the less appealing it looked. Actually, he wasn’t feeling hungry at all. “Reborn, can I have some of your coffee?”
“No,” Reborn replied instantly, hand inching dangerously toward his gun.
“Okay, fine.” And it was. Tsuna could recognize Reborn’s absolutely no mood rearing its poisonous little head. That was definitely something not to deal with in the mornings (or at any time of the day). “I’ll make myself some.”
Before now, the only person in his family who drank was his father, Iemitsu, who was barely home anyway, so the coffee machine was usually tucked away in some corner, collecting dust. Only recently, it’d been taken out for Reborn and now Tsuna (before he’d reach the age of twenty the drink would inevitably become a lifeline, because how could he resist? It drove away sleep, and nightmares).
Humming a nonsensical tune he’d learned somewhere, Tsuna mechanically pulled a filter out of a bag. The filters were old and cheap and would probably clog, but it couldn’t be helped. At least the coffee was of a bit better brand. Nothing like Lavazza or any other Italian coffee, of course, but it was passable.
“That tune,” said Reborn from the table. “Where did you learn it?”
“In Italy, I think,” Tsuna replied, placing the coffee pot back on the warming plate. It’d be ready soon enough. “Can’t remember exactly where.” After all, he’d been to so many places in Italy it was hard to keep track of what he’d done where.
He turned around to face Reborn, who was staring back thoughtfully. “What is it, Reborn?” he said, just a little unnerved.
“That’s a folk tune from Liguria. Were you visiting the COMSUBIN?”
Tsuna paused. “The COMSUBIN? Maybe. I don’t remember. I might have; we’ve had some dealings with them in the past, aside from Colonello.”
“Like what?”
“Well, there was a time we camped out in one of their former hideouts.” That had been fun. S’mores around a campfire with his two closest friends. “At least, we thought it wasn’t being used anymore, but actually-”
“Dame Tsuna,” Reborn interrupted. “Any events I should know about?”
Oh. He meant those horrible events that could potentially be prevented. Of course Reborn wasn’t interested in the trivial events, even if Tsuna would rather remember a happy events rather than a gruesome one. “Well…”
COMSUBIN-what had they done with the COMSUBIN again? The fact that were an Italian special force had limited their encounters to brief, tense affairs in which neither side completely trusted the other. (“Sorry, kid,” Colonello says, shrugging. “Can’t help you there. I’ve got ties to both of you.” “But that’s exactly why we need you!” “Don’t make me choose, kid.” And with that, Colonello walks out.)
“Sorry, Reborn. I think that was about it.”
“Hm.”
Still, there was something that nagged at Tsuna-there was something important that happened, but he couldn’t remember it...
Reborn looked at him suspiciously with one raised eyebrow. Oh, had it been showing on his face?
“If I remember it later, I’ll tell you,” Tsuna said.
“Make sure you do,” Reborn said, tipping his mug back and finishing his coffee. “Remember-even the smallest detail can be crucial. So-”
“Be prepared,” Tsuna finished with a half-smile. “You’ve told me before.”
“Have I?” But Reborn was smiling, too. “I see,” he said, before nonchalantly tossing a mini bomb at Tsuna.
WHAT-“Reborn! You-” Tsuna started, but he started to choke on the smoke. The brat-this wasn’t his home, was it? It was Tsuna’s! Reborn just couldn’t start throwing bombs whenever he wanted-by the time the smoke had somewhat cleared, Tsuna could see Reborn’s small profile at the door.
“That was for interrupting me,” the baby said cheekily, then slammed the door behind him as he left.
Any good will towards Reborn disappeared. Tsuna sighed-he’d had more than ten years of torture from Reborn. Wasn’t there ever going to be a break? It was like Reborn liked blowing up Tsuna’s house or equipment or friends, just for the heck of it!
If he didn’t value his life, he’d have retaliated against Reborn long ago. But… it was Reborn. He would barely have time to laugh before Reborn would get his revenge. (Because Reborn was a vicious little mafioso. That one time Lambo had ruined the coffee machine by detonating a grenade inside of it was etched in Tsuna’s memory permanently. He still hadn’t found all of the bullets Reborn had fired yet. If there was one thing Reborn had to have in the morning, it was his coffee-)
Coffee. Tsuna paused.
He walked over to the machine, which was quiet now, and pulled out the pot. Pouring himself a cup, Tsuna took a sip and immediately grimaced.
Darn it, it was bitter. He’d left it for too long.
--
“Hey, Tsuna!”
Oh, he knew that voice like that back of his hand. Grinning, Tsuna turned around. “Good morning, Yamamoto-kun.”
“Morning,” Yamamoto repeated, slinging his good arm over Tsuna’s shoulder. “So! How’s the Tenth today?”
Tsuna jerked forward, startled, and stared at his friend. “What? Um, why are you calling me that?” he asked warily.
The grin dropped from Yamamoto’s face. “Oh. Sorry, I just heard Gokudera calling you that. Should I not call you that?”
“No, it’s just…” It wasn’t wrong, but it was just so unlike Yamamoto to give him such a formal title. (That familiarity is what makes Yamamoto Yamamoto, after all.) “Actually, I’d prefer it if you just called me Tsuna.”
“Sure, Tsuna!” Yamamoto’s grin was back.
“Tenth!”
Tsuna turned-Gokudera was running towards them wearing a furious expression. “You baseball freak!” he snapped, shoving Yamamoto’s arm off Tsuna’s shoulder. “Don’t act so casual to the Tenth!”
Thankfully, Yamamoto seemed to think it was all a joke. “Haha, you’re funny. Can’t friends be casual to each other?”
Friends?
Tsuna looked from Gokudera to Yamamoto. That’s right-he had real friends now… Last week he hadn’t had any, but that had changed. He had changed. (Out of the distance, someone-him?-murmurs through blood and choked breaths, “The time I’ve spent here with everyone is a treasure to me…”)
“Tenth?”
He glanced up. Gokudera and Yamamoto were giving him concerned looks.
“It’s fine,” he reassured them. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.” Which was partially true, since he’d spent all last night thinking about the future and anticipating Reborn’s surprise attacks.
“Baseball idiot!” exclaimed Gokudera. “Your stunt yesterday must have caused the tenth to lose sleep!”
Yamamoto simply laughed.
--
That afternoon, Reborn suddenly decided to actually step up to his job and tutor Tsuna. Tsuna guessed it was more of an assessment test, since every other question Reborn tested him on was leagues harder than the work he was currently doing in school. Granted, he could probably do his homework with his eyes closed now.
In particular, Reborn was testing him thoroughly on his knowledge of Italy.
“Capital of Puglia?”
(“Ah-Gokudera-kun, what’s up?” “Tenth! Those Abbiati split up-Baseball idiot’s already got half of them at our base in Gravina, I’m chasing the rest to-”)
“Bari,” Tsuna replied absently, yawning. They’d been at this for an hour and a half.
“How many airports?”
“140.”
Reborn frowned. “How many airports right now?”
“Oh.” Tsuna thought back. “130?”
“Not quite. 132.” Reborn grinned and moved towards the detonator-
“Come on, Reborn!” Tsuna exclaimed. He’d already been through more explosions this afternoon than most people experienced in their lives. “I was two off. When are they going to count?”
“You can never be too prepared.”
“Reborn, I seriously doubt two measly airports, out of 132, are going to make a difference. They probably don’t even have paved runways.”
“Dame Tsuna. You’re the Decimo. What if you know the man you’re chasing is flying out of the country in one hour? You won’t be able to catch him if you forget the name of the airport he’s headed towards.”
“But in a few years those airports will be built, and I’ll be right!”
“That’s sloppy,” Reborn reprimanded.
Tsuna sighed. “You’re right,” he muttered. “It’s hard to remember what happened ten years ago.”
“Then you’ll have to learn again.”
That did not sound appealing. He’d slowly accumulated knowledge for ten years before arriving at this level. If he started again at that rate, Byakuran would probably be ruling this world before he learned anything useful.
“Reborn, I think-” but Tsuna stopped. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and every muscle suddenly felt on edge; Reborn was also still-he’d realized it as well.
There was someone right outside his window.
(“Idiot,” Lal Mirch snapped, thwacking her clipboard against the back of his head. “So you’ve realized someone’s there. You freeze, you give it all away, idiot. They’ll know you know, and now you’ve lost a huge advantage.”)
“Reborn, I think we should go over the important ports again,” Tsuna said in his calmest voice.
“Dame Tsuna,” Reborn smirked. “It’s the Bovino.”
For a moment Tsuna stared at Reborn in confusion, and then it hit him: it’s the Bovino. Lambo.
Lambo.
“Oh,” he said, nudging his knife back under his mattress and wishing he could sink into the floor. Anything to get away from Reborn’s smirk.
“You’re getting sloppy,” Reborn pointed out with something akin to glee.
“I am not.”
“Sloppy. Dull. You thought that cow was a threat.” The hitman wasn’t laughing, but it was clearly there.
Tsuna scowled. “I am not getting dull, or sloppy. I was trained by Lal Mirch, I can’t be getting sloppy.”
“Lal Mirch trained you?” Reborn’s voice suddenly sharpened. “She trained you?”
“She was a good trainer,” Tsuna said, ignoring the whisper that said well, until she died, that is. “She trained Colonello, anyway.”
The baby snorted. “I wouldn’t call Colonello good.”
“We can’t all be world-class hitmen like you,” Tsuna reminded.
“No, but he is one of the Arcobaleno.”
“So is Skull.”
“Skull is an embarrassment,” said Reborn firmly. “And the Arcobaleno are not the level of power that people believe they are. Therefore proving my point: Lal Mirch is not a good trainer.”
“Why not?”
Reborn grinned widely. “She’s not hard enough.”
Tsuna opened his mouth to reply-weren’t there enough hard teachers already?-but a familiar shrill voice interrupted their conversation.
“Die, Reborn!”
There was Lambo, in all of his cow-like glory, pointing a gun at Reborn… Tsuna stared at him. He almost wanted to laugh-had Lambo really been so childish before? Lambo was threatening to kill Reborn, but coming from this kid, it was really cute-
Lambo’s eyes widened in horror as he pulled the trigger and nothing happened. The tree branch he was standing on began to crack. “Huh?”
Lunging forward, Tsuna grabbed Lambo before the kid could fall with the tree branch and pulled him close.
Wow, déjà vu. How long had it been since he could carry Lambo in his arms?
“Guh-you’re not Reborn!” Lambo accused Tsuna.
“No,” Tsuna replied, amused. “Guess I’m not.” And I wouldn’t want to be.
Spotting Reborn, who was pointedly ignoring him, Lambo wrenched himself out of Tsuna’s arms and landed on the floor. “Long time no see, Reborn!”
“You’ve met him before?” Tsuna gaped. He didn’t think Reborn was the type of person who would-
“I don’t associate with those of a lower rank,” Reborn told him bluntly.
“Ah.”
Lambo had pulled out a hand grenade from somewhere-his pockets? Afro?-and ran towards Reborn, prepared to throw it. “Don’t ignore me! I’ll kill you!”
Tsuna thought sounded like a kid making empty threats-“Don’t make me eat my vegetables, I’ll run away” and so on-only that Lambo had the weapons to follow through on his threats. Not that they would damage Reborn or kill him, though. It was cute.
With a movement too fast to follow, Reborn sent Lambo flying into the wall, then said calmly, “Euro or Lira?”
“Euro, since 2002,” Tsuna said, picking up the teary Lambo from the floor. “Come on, Lambo-kun. Let’s leave mean old Reborn to his weapons, and get some sweets downstairs. You like candy, don’t you?” Lambo nodded, sniffing.
Reborn only snorted and murmured something like “Getting soft, too?” as Tsuna and Lambo exited.
--
“So, Lambo-kun,” Tsuna began after Lambo had been placated with a bowl of leftover candy from some fair a while ago. “Are you from Italy, too?”
“I am Lambo-san, not Lambo-kun, of the Bovino Famiglia in Italy! Favorite foods are grapes and candy!” Lambo recited almost defiantly.
Alright. Well, two could play that game. “Tell me, Lambo-kun. Where did you meet Reborn?” Honestly, he was really curious.
Lambo sniffed. “I went to the bar for my first time with my boss, and he was sitting next to me at the counter. Lambo-san was eating his favorite grapes, and Reborn was blowing bubble gum from his nose…”
Oh, now Tsuna remembered. It had been something crazy like that, hadn’t it? Reborn probably wouldn’t have even known Lambo if Tsuna had not mentioned the kid as one of his guardians. (Once upon a time, Reborn tries to get the Decimo to replace Lambo, who is just a kid and a crybaby and can’t even handle his own power. “I know he’s not as powerful as the others,” the Decimo says quietly, “but he will be. You have to give him a chance, Reborn.” Then, softer: “You gave me a chance.” Finally, Reborn relents, and doesn’t regret it.) “You’ve been through a lot,” he said when Lambo stared at him expectantly, waiting for a reply.
“Hmph. Lambo-san can handle it,” Lambo boasted, but Tsuna could tell he was privately pleased.
Nana entered the kitchen at that moment. Upon seeing another baby in her house, she smiled widely and exclaimed, “Tsu-kun! Is that one of Reborn-kun’s friends?”
“Of a sort?” Tsuna glanced at Lambo to see how he would take that, but Lambo-that sneaky little kid-just smiled and nodded.
“Lambo is Reborn’s friend!” he agreed.
“Oh, you are too cute!” Nana gushed. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
Lambo nodded enthusiastically.
Reborn, who was undoubtedly coming down to check on them, hopped down the stairs and upon hearing Lambo’s impromptu dinner invitation, raised an eyebrow at Tsuna, like he was saying What, the annoying Bovino is staying for dinner now?
Before Lambo could utter another die, Reborn! Tsuna picked the kid up and was out the door. “Let’s go for a walk, Lambo-kun,” Tsuna suggested, though from the tone of his voice, it was really a command.
--
When they were safely out of harm’s way-or rather, Reborn’s way-Tsuna sighed. With both of these babies living in his house, he would have a tumultuous next few days. “Why do you want to kill Reborn anyway, Lambo-kun?”
“My boss told me to defeat the super first-class hitman, Reborn,” Lambo replied guilelessly.
Poor kid. He’d learn the truth soon enough, Tsuna supposed. (“What? You? Kill Reborn? Don’t be ridiculous. We never believed you would actually do it.” It took more than a week to convince Lambo to leave his room after that, and another week to stop sulking.) Anyway, Tsuna wasn’t going to be the one to shatter his delusions.
“Lambo’s dream is to be the boss of the Bovino Famiglia and make all of humanity bow down to me.”
“A great ambition,” Tsuna agreed. It wasn’t necessarily a realistic ambition, but it was a great one-he could think of a number of stronger men who would settle for less.
Lambo looked at him curiously. “What is your dream?”
Tsuna paused. (Dream? When did he stop having a dream? Those days of living happily are over now, far over now, and there are no happy endings for murderers. All you can do is hope for the least worst ending.) “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t have one right now.”
“Sawada.”
Tsuna whirled around, Lambo still in his arms-there was a massive man dressed in Armani, a fedora pulled low over his eyes and a scarf around his neck, standing in front of him, blocking the light like a huge black shadow-“Who are you?” Tsuna asked, but the blood was pulsing in his veins and against his chest-he’s big, I can’t outwrestle him. Bulge in his coat, he’s got a handgun, I can’t go far. Suit covers his muscles but I’ll bet anything he’s strong.
From that stance, he was definitely an enemy.
No gloves, no Nuts, no ring. He was screwed. All he could do was buy them some time, and hopefully Lambo would pull out a grenade from his hair. Pull out anything from his hair.
The man spoke slowly in a thick accent. “Sawada. You’re coming with us.”
“Sawada? Sorry, you’ve got the wrong person.” (Be innocent-confused and unaware. Arms out, don’t fidget, don’t fiddle with anything. Look him straight in the eyes. You are not afraid of him, because you don’t know that he wants to kill you.)
“Sawada.” The man pulled his coat back, revealing the glossy black of the handle of a gun tucked in his belt. “Now.”
“That’s a gun,” Tsuna whispered, not entirely faking his fear. “You’re-holding a gun. I don’t know who or what you’re talking about, but you’re seriously mistaken-”
“What’s happening?” said Lambo, completely confused. How long would it take to pull a grenade out of Lambo’s hair?
The man pulled the gun out slowly as he grinned madly. “The closest police are at least four blocks away. We’d be out of here before they realized something happened. Now, will you come or not? You can bring the brat, too.”
“I-I’m not-”
“Sawada Tsunayoshi,” the man spat. “The spawn of that devil Sawada Iemitsu.”
A heartbeat. Tsuna could barely trust his own ears-someone was chasing after him because he was his father’s son? Not because he was the Decimo? (Not yet, not yet, a voice whispers.) Still, this situation was dangerous.
He had to get out of this position.
Tsuna analyzed the surroundings in a split second. There was an alley right behind him; if he could back up without that man noticing-
“You scared, brat? Your father murdered my son and his family,” the man snarled furiously. “And now I’m going to do the same to him.” He took a step forward, and another.
Tsuna was absolutely terrified-how had he dealt with these situations before? For one, people didn’t actively seek the Decimo since he’d gained a reputation for his tendency to burn people alive-
Lambo tugged on his shirt. “Tsuna, what are we doing?”
(“What are you doing, trash? You think the d*** enemy’s going to wait for you?”)
Taking another step back, Tsuna pushed off his left foot and dashed into the alley behind him, Lambo pressed against his chest, not stopping to hear the man’s “Hey!” The alley was open at the other end-good, he’d been gambling on that. And it was short, he could get out before the other man could get a clear shot-
“Hey Tsuna!” cried Lambo indignantly. “Why aren’t we fighting?” He reached into his afro and pulled out a grenade. Perfect, Tsuna thought, snatching it from Lambo’s hands, pulling the pin out with his mouth, and tossing it behind him.
It detonated, and Tsuna could hear the sound of smoke spewing out. Perfect. Lambo had pulled out a smoke grenade. We might actually make it out of this alley, he thought.
Then his mind replayed something the man had said. You’re coming with us.
Us. More than one.
Tsuna pulled out of the alley just in time to see a humongous baseball bat obscure his vision, and hear a sickening crack, feel blinding pain and hear a cry from-
--
“I think he’s awake now. I saw him move an eyelid.”
“Is he? Sawada, wake up. We know you’re awake.”
There was a dull throbbing in his forehead, like the worst migraine he’d ever had. Tsuna opened his eyes, minimally-it was mostly dark, and he wondered how long he’d been out. There was a window above him, sending a cold light to the floor. He was tied to a chair, hands wrenched behind him and tied with rope.
There was something red on his pants, and something slick running down the side of his head.
-blood? Blood. He was bleeding. That was his blood. He was…
(A rough laugh. “Let me have a turn. I want a turn at his little head.” Pulls his fist back like winding up a toy, then releases, and Tsuna doesn’t see stars. He sees red. He can’t remember if his shirt was always this crimson, or…)
He was forgetting something. Someone. Wait, Lambo-
“Where,” he croaked hoarsely, throat aching. “Where-”
“The cow? He’s crying for you in one of the other rooms. What an annoying kid. We were going to kill him first, but we’ve reconsidered. If you value your companion’s life at all, you’ll answer our questions.”
Tsuna felt a flash of rage-how dare they use a child. For a moment, he forgot the pain, forgot the blood, forgot his position. “You are despicable,” he hissed.
His reward was a cuff on the head, which made his brain spin and lurch. (Feels almost like a bullet in his head, and he should know.)
“You don’t get to judge us,” snarled the man’s partner. “Now you’re going to answer our questions.”
Maybe this blood he was losing was also leaking brain cells, but Tsuna retorted without thinking. “Before you kill us, you mean. I don’t see why I need to answer.”
“Because I might let your companion go if you consent to answer questions. If you don’t, you’ll both die.”
“You won’t do that,” Tsuna muttered. “Even if he is just five, Lambo has already seen your faces by now. He can identify you two. You won’t let him go. You have no intention of letting either of us go. It’s too risky.” (“You’re much more calculating than you look,” observes the mafioso. “What a deceiving little-”)
Both men were silent, then one growled, “You are your father’s son, aren’t you.”
“I am not my father’s son,” Tsuna snapped. He wasn’t. Even his own father had said so. The only thing he had inherited from Iemitsu was his uncanny knack for getting into horrible situations, and barely making out of them again. Character-wise, he was definitely more like his mother. (“Well,” someone mutters from the side, “the way he slaughtered those men… Reminds you of the senior, doesn’t it?” Tsuna doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t want to see the other man nod.)
“Where is your father?”
“Don’t know.” His voice shook-from blood loss, not from fear… “Don’t care.”
“That’s pretty harsh of you,” laughed the man. “But then again, it’s that man.”
He was wrong. Tsuna loved his father, but the fact was, it didn’t matter where his father was. Iemitsu would always make it home. “W-where’s Lambo? I want to see him.”
“The Bovino?” the man paused. “Alright, I can let you see him. But no talking. The moment you talk, I shoot your foot. Got it?”
Tsuna barely nodded before the man left. He felt sick and numb now. His head was eerily light, like it had no weight at all, and any movement sent every inch of his brain throbbing. The light was too bright; it was making his eyes hurt. He thought about Lambo. If the kid was already dead, Tsuna would never forgive himself.
(Remember? He died before, too-white leather, black spots tainted with red; two horns, shattered into pieces; broken bones, burnt flesh, the putrid, suffocating smell of death everywhere in the air-
He’d been the first of his guardians.)
“Eh, Tsuna, what’s going on?”
Tsuna looked up-this was reality, Lambo wasn’t dead, and he would stay alive even if Tsuna had to lose both of his arms-“Lambo,” he whispered, relieved. “Are you hurt?” (It’s are you hurt, not are you okay, because he’s learned to expect the worst by now.)
“No talking,” ordered one of the men. Tsuna could barely tell them apart anymore.
“Lambo is fine,” Lambo said, and immediately a black glove whacked him on the head.
“I said no talking.”
Tears leaked out of Lambo’s eyes at the pain, and the kid sobbed, “I’ll kill you!”-which, admittedly, wasn’t very intimidating as he was both tied up and crying-
But before anyone could react, Lambo wriggled his small arms out of his bonds and reached into his afro, and pulled out a very familiar gun.
It was the Ten-Year Bazooka.
“What are you-” the man lunged for the gun, but Lambo had pulled the trigger before he could reach him. The man jerked back, barely escaping the explosion. Smoke billowed out of the gun’s open end, obscuring anything around where Lambo had been. Warily, the men drew their guns and watched the smoke for anyone.
“Ah,” said the fifteen-year-old Lambo, emerging from the smoke. “Hello.”
“Who are you?” barked one of the men.
Lambo surveyed the scene calmly, taking in both of the men and their pointed guns. Then his gaze arrived at Tsuna-tied up, bleeding, and barely conscious-and his eyes widened. “You two… did you two do this?”
“Who are you?” the man repeated.
The teenager’s expression cooled and his eyes narrowed at the men. “You hurt Tsuna.” He wore a furious look and took a step forward as yellow-white sparks began dancing on his horns. “I’ll kill you for that.”
Though his vision was blurring and reality seemed to slip further away with every passing moment, Tsuna felt a chill up his back. Lambo was supposed to be a lazy and stupid kid, not this deadly teenager. For a moment, he was back, back watching his guardians mercilessly kill his enemies and wondering what have I done to my friends?
Lambo was only fifteen, and he had already killed. Tsuna knew that. But Lambo was also five, and he had never killed.
Tsuna knew he’d do anything to keep it that way.
“Stop,” he managed to wheeze. “Lambo, don’t…” But he couldn’t speak after that. His head was pounding too hard for him to choke any words out. It seemed like everything was spinning around him, even though he knew he was tied to a chair.
“These men hurt you, didn’t they? Let me get back at them,” Lambo said, bending down and preparing to charge. The electricity on his horns began to crackle furiously until it seemed Lambo’s head was entirely covered in lightning. “My horns hold one million volts.”
The men drew back with alarm, but did not put away their guns. One of them even dared to point at Tsuna. “You charge, I’ll shoot,” he threatened, though his voice was shaking.
“You pull that trigger, you’ll bring the wrath of the-”
“Lambo,” said a new voice.
Tsuna glanced up-there, in the only open window in the room, was the silhouette of another baby. A very familiar fedora-wearing, gun-wielding baby.
“Reborn!” Tsuna and Lambo gasped, while the men balked. Obviously they’d heard his name before, most likely linked to some horrific event and a warning. Tsuna had never felt happier to see someone.
Reborn hopped down from the window, gun pointed at the two men. “You didn’t come back for dinner.”
It took a moment for Tsuna to realize that Reborn was talking to him. “Oh.”
Irritated, Lambo pointed to Tsuna’s captors. “Reborn, these two men hurt Tsuna!”
“I see that.”
Tsuna couldn’t see Reborn’s face under his fedora, but the tone of his words-short and snappish, promising pain to those two men-told him that the baby was silently furious at a level that Tsuna had only seen a few times before. (The other times his fury had been directed at the Vendice and some poor, unsuspecting lackey who had caught a coffee-deprived Reborn on a bad day.)
That confused Tsuna. Reborn had never gotten this angry when he had been injured before, but maybe it was because he had to miss his mother’s delicious dinner?
With an odd lack of sympathy, Tsuna watched his captors be thoroughly pummeled by Reborn, who showed no sympathy whatsoever. Reborn seemed to miss intentionally, grazing their arms or legs or some other body parts, smirking the entire time-Tsuna would have laughed, but laughter would probably make his headache worse. While Reborn was having fun, Lambo came over and untied him quickly.
“Sorry, young Tenth,” he apologized once he had torn off part of his shirt for a makeshift bandage.
“Thanks,” Tsuna said, gratefully accepting the cloth and pressing it against his forehead. Then he paused, confused. “Why?”
“My idiot younger self probably got you into this mess.”
“No, actually it was me,” Tsuna corrected with a weak smile. “I was…” he glanced at Reborn, then finished, “…sloppy.”
Lambo gave him an odd look. “Whatever you say,” he said, then leaned back and burst into smoke.
The five-year-old Lambo hopped out. “What happened?” he demanded suspiciously, glancing around for the two men.
“We were kidnapped.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t worry,” Tsuna replied wryly. “It’s what happens when you’re part of the mafia.”
--
After eating dinner and passing his head injury off as the result of a fall (even though it was a full concussion), Tsuna retired to his room with Reborn following. Lambo, thankfully, was entertained by Nana-or maybe it was the other way around-but would be out of the way until after he’d talked to Reborn.
They seemed to be having a lot of talks lately.
“So,” Reborn began triumphantly. “You’re sloppy.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Tsuna mumbled, flopping onto his bed. “I’m sloppy.” As much as he hated to admit it. “But you know, it’s mostly because I don’t have the gloves or Nuts…” he glanced at Leon hopefully.
Reborn raised an eyebrow. “Dame Tsuna. Leon won’t give you anything until you’re ready, which you’re not.” Then, he added curiously, “You used gloves?”
“Like the First.” Tsuna grinned. “Better than the First.”
Smirking, Reborn hopped to the other side of Tsuna’s bed. “But you never beat me.”
“How did you… well, no, I didn’t. Not before you…” Tsuna paused, his good mood fading. “Died.”
Reborn breezed past his pause. “We’ll start training in the morning promptly at half past five.”
“Six.”
“I am not negotiating. Half past five or face my personal alarm clocks.”
“Meaning, you’re going to detonate a bomb or electrocute me or something equally dangerous,” Tsuna translated. When Reborn put it that way, he didn’t really have a choice… In fact, when Reborn was determined, had he ever had a choice?
Reborn just looked at him smugly.
“Fine, fine!” exclaimed Tsuna, rolling his eyes. It probably wouldn’t be too hard. After all, he had survived Lal Mirch, and her training program was tough already.
As if he could read minds, Reborn said, “Don’t compare me to Lal. I’ll work you much harder.”
Tsuna groaned in response.
Then their joking mood suddenly seemed to sink away. It had been a full day-Lambo had arrived with a bang and they’d gotten kidnapped. Huh. From what Tsuna remembered, he hadn’t really been regularly kidnapped until he had already succeeded the Ninth as the Vongola boss. It was a new experience to be kidnapped for being the son of Sawada Iemitsu.
“What did you do to those men?” After Lambo had untied him, time had seemed to blur. Tsuna didn’t exactly remember what had happened after the kid had returned to his normal age.
Reborn’s response was way too smug. “I called someone to pick them up.”
“Who?”
“Someone I know.”
Tsuna winced. He almost felt sorry for them. Whoever it was, Reborn would make sure they did a thorough job. “They weren’t after me because I’m the future Tenth, you know.”
“They told me.” Reborn pulled out his Beretta and began polishing it with the corner of Tsuna’s blanket, wiping away the suspicious red blotches on its black barrel. “And it didn’t happen before?”
“As far as I can remember, no. I don’t know why it happened her and not… back then. I’ve never seen these guys before, so I can’t think of a reason they’d kidnap me here. I haven’t had enough time to affect the world that much.”
“Unless…” Reborn stopped polishing his gun and looked up at Tsuna, eyes unreadable. “This world is different from the one you were in?”
The world-different?
Tsuna abruptly sat up, staring at Reborn in disbelief and dread. Was it possible? He almost felt sick at the thought. If so, then what good would his memories be? The longer time went on, the more differences there would be. By the time Byakuran would arrive, the world would be too different for Tsuna to use his memories to his advantage. And then-
(Would be like watching the world fall apart again. Wouldn’t it?)
Sensing his growing anxiety, Reborn packed his gun away and hopped up to his tiny hammock. “Dame Tsuna,” he told Tsuna. “Don’t make any assumptions.” And, in his silence, what he was notsaying: don’t make any moves that you’ll regret later.
With a heavy feeling in his chest, Tsuna flipped off the light and rolled onto his side, wishing for a quick and dreamless sleep.
--
Ninth.
Tsuna is fine. He has a lot to work on.
How are our dealings with the COMSUBIN?
Reborn
--
FROM: [SENDER]
TO: [RECIPIENT]
THE MEN ARE NOT FROM A FAMILY. PERSONAL GRUDGE AGAINST EXTERNAL ADVISOR. WILL KEEP INTERROGATING.
YOU OWE ME.
--
Finally done! Yay~ This was the hardest chapter to write. It's difficult for me to write action scenes. I also had the research the most for this chapter. Italian coffee, where the COMSUBIN is (it's a real special force!), the capital of Puglia, how to make coffee… Most of the information I got from the CIA World Factbook (Google it). The other information I got from Wikipedia or WikiHow. All the information you find in this chapter is (hopefully) correct. Puglia and Liguria are regions in Italy, and the capital of Puglia is Bari.There are 132 airports in Italy as of 2010. Italy also uses the Euro (it was one of the founding members of the original organization that later became the European Union). Gah. Who knew writing fan fiction was so hard?
So… I diverged a bit from canon. I hope it worked! I wanted to add something more to the original chapter, which… was a bit too gag-like for this story. I also added some open ends! What exactly happened with the COMSUBIN, who those men really were (if they were hired by someone, or something else), who [SENDER] is. Who knows? Maybe an actual plot is being formed…
I'm curious: what do you want to see in this story? Good!Byakuran? Tsuna-Hibari dysfunctional friendship? Evil!Vendice? Bunnies taking over the world with umbrellas? (Just kidding about that last one.) I may or may not actually add it in, but I'm really curious to know what you all expect…
Next chapter: I'm going to do a bit of blending of chapters 8-13, if I can manage it. Training, Bianchi, Haru, Irie Shouichi. Then we can get onto the more exciting parts, like introducing the other Guardians… :D
chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5