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Chapter Text

The Tokyo crowds flowed around Hayato without noticing him. Here his silver hair could pass as fashion rather than foreign; his leather and jewelry were far from the most eye-catching look on the street. Nearby he could sense the gold-and-green of Shoichi and Spanner, both in raptures over the electronics shops of Akihabara.

Hayato had already found the parts on his list – a personal project, now that the Box Animals were running smoothly. While the science duo spent the rest of their money, Hayato was contemplating a build-your-own claw machine kit. He could hardly return to Tsuna-sama’s side empty-handed.

“Kid. You’re coming with us.”

“The hell?” He turned; a pair of yakuza thugs bracketed him, Rain and Storm.

“We’re taking you to our Boss.” Hayato frowned; he didn’t think he’d stepped on any underworld toes. He was on personal business, so he didn’t owe the local Boss a courtesy call.

“Hang on.” He grabbed the kit, and passed a handful of bills to the store clerk.

Not long ago, he would have pulled out his dynamite before going with these two. He would never have walked away without his change either. He wasn’t worried about the nerds; they had both been to Tokyo before, and the only danger they were in was forgetting to catch the train.

He had already spotted their lapel pins, but asked anyway, “Who are you assholes?”

“Kuryugumi.” Their leaders were a Sky lineage, currently in its third generation. A strong potential ally for Tsuna-sama. The Rain-kobun added, “Our Boss is always looking for young men like yourself. You won’t find a better offer in all of Japan.”

Hayato snorted; anonymity was a hazard of being in the Hidden Sky’s family.

“You’ll change your mind once you meet Sandaime,” said the Storm-kobun. “He’s like nobody you’ve ever met.” Hayato wanted to point out that there were eighty-seven known Skies in the world – eighty-nine if one counted Enma and his mother – but, how likely was a random teen to meet even one?

The two kobun brought him to a nearby private club, where an older, bespectacled man was working on a laptop. Blue tie, dragon’s-head ring – this must be Kuryugumi’s Rain Guardian. “Who’s this?”

“New recruit for Sandaime to see.”

“Hmm. He’ll be done his business shortly.” The Rain gave Hayato a shallow bow. “Welcome. I am Kamojima Toshiyuki.”

“Gokudera Hayato, called Smoking Bomb.” Just then, Hayato’s phone rang, with the tune reserved only for his Sky. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

“Put it on speaker,” Kamojima said; Hayato shrugged and did so. Since he had an audience, he answered with,

“Gokudera here.”

“Hayato, I had a feeling I should call you. Are you all right?”

He couldn’t help smiling at the sound of Tsuna-sama’s voice. “I’m fine, just a little kidnapped at the moment.”

“Hiee? By who?”

“The Kuryugumi. I think they want to offer me a position.” He would have to find a polite way to decline; his place was at Tsuna-sama’s side.

“At least they have good taste.Have you got a handle on it? If you haven’t checked in by dinner time, I’m sending Sensei to get you.”

Hayato considered the dozen or so Flames he could sense in the building. “That’s a bit overkill, isn’t it?”

“Usually, yes, but he’s been bored lately.”

“Now that’s just cruel and unusual.”

Tsuna-sama giggled. “Well, I can’t let people think it’s a good idea to kidnap you. See you soon!” The call disconnected.

“That was an interesting conversation.” Kuryugumi’s Sky stood in the doorway, flanked by his Sun and Lightning. Hayato turned and bowed.

“Shirogami-sama.”

“Storm-san.” Shirogami glanced at his two subordinates. “Did you two even ask if this man already has an affiliation?”

“But, Sandaime! No one would turn down the chance to work under you!”

“Unless he already has a Sky of his own.” Shirogami strode over to a chair and sat down. “There is only one Sky in Japan whose associates I don’t know; you must be from Namimori.”

“Yes, sir.” Hayato introduced himself more properly this time; his manners would reflect on Tsuna-sama’s reputation.

Shirogami huffed a laugh. “Your Boss has mentioned his tutor in his letters, so I’d prefer not to have a visit from him. I’ll have Bun-san drive you to the station.” He pulled out a cigarette case. “Mind if I smoke?”

“It’s fine.”

“Wow, now I see it.” Shirogami’s Sun draped himself (herself? Themselves? Hayato couldn’t tell) over the back of his chair. “Ryuuji doesn’t faze you at all. You’re used to Skies.”

“I guess I am.” When did that happen? About the third time Cavallone did a face plant?

“How many Skies have you even met?”

“Don’t be rude, Tsukasa,” said Shirogami. Hayato counted on his fingers. Tsuna-sama, of course; the other three Vongola Skies; Cavallone, Yuni, Enma and Shirogami himself. Huh, that was quite a few. Shirogami raised an eyebrow.

“Has Inten-san got Vongola connections or something?”

“Something like that.”

***

Meanwhile, Tsuna was doing some shopping of his own. “Do you have an idea what you’re looking for, Boss?” asked Kawahira. As usual, his store was crammed with all manner of old objects. Tsuna perched on a carved wooden stool and looked around him.

“It’s for a training exercise, so something sturdy, And not too valuable.” At the front of the store, Daemon lounged in a sunbeam while Kyoko, his current security detail, flipped through vintage magazines. Kawahira tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Perhaps a small bronze. Portable?”

“Definitely. Nice shirt, by the way.” It was emblazoned with a bowl of ramen and the words SEND NOODS.

“A gift from our esteemed home tutor.”

“Of course it was.” Tsuna examined the display case where Kawahira kept figurines and small sculptures. The game he had in mind involved the Varia, so it was going to take a beating; metal would be the best option. “Aha!” He lifted out an old bookend, made of two boards at right angles and half of a brass horse.

“I don’t know where the front half is,” said Kawahira.

“Don’t worry, this is perfect.” Xanxus would laugh. He turned the item over to look at the price tag, and counted out the money.

“Boss, you don’t need to, I’d happily give it to you as a gift – ” Tsuna looked Kawahira in the eye and added an extra bill to the pile. Kawahira paused, and then put on a tragic expression.

“Have mercy, oh great Sky-sama, for I am but a humble shopkeeper, and would never presume to charge you for my wares …”

Tsuna snorted and added two more bills. “Get yourself some nice noodles, Kawahira-san.”

“I hear and obey, Boss.”

***

The second term of their second year of high school began with an assembly. Kyoko was holding down her corner of Tsuna’s protective formation, and bouncing one knee impatiently. The principal droned on; Kyoko had brought a transcript of last term’s speech and was reading along. So far the only difference was that he had praised the badminton club instead of the kendo club. She hoped Haru and Chrome’s first day back was going better.

Their class was seated in the middle rows of the auditorium, so the best they could do was seat Tsuna against the wall, with his Guardians all around him. Hibari was also there, lounging on a rafter above them; one of the teachers glared at him. “Hibari-kun, didn’t you graduate last year?”

“Hn.”

“And now I would like to announce an exciting opportunity,” the principal monotoned. “A European school, the Modern Archimedes Foundation International Academy, has offered our school a study-abroad program. Three of our second-year students will spend three weeks in wonderful Italy.”

The students burst into excited whispers; Kyoko tilted her head. “Isn’t that the official name for – ”

“Mafia Academy.” Tsuna pinched his nose.

“I smell a setup,” grumbled Hana.

“Ya think?” snapped Hayato. A teacher shushed them all.

“As the Academy’s instructional languages are English and Italian, we will use a proficiency test to decide which students will go.” Definitely a setup; out of their class, only Tsuna’s Famiglia were fluent.

“I bet a thousand yen that jackass is behind this,” said Hana.

“No bet.”

***

Lal is sure she’s not going to like whatever comes out of Iemitsu’s mouth. He has a dopey, overconfident grin on, and his boots are planted on his desk. “I’ve got it all figured out – my Tsuna-fishie will see how much a son needs his father.”

“What did you do.” And how did he do it behind Lal’s back. She’s glad she’s made a habit of recording all interactions with her so-called boss.

“He needs to see what the Mafia is really like, then he’s sure to turn to me for help!”

He better not have put out a hit. Lal doesn’t think even Iemitsu is that stupid. He is delusional if he thinks Tsuna will turn to him rather than Xanxus, Reborn, Timoteo or liteally anyone else in the two families he rules over. The kid faces down the Vindice on the regular; the ‘real Mafia’ won’t faze him. Lal makes a note to buy fresh popcorn.

“Aren’t you still on probation? What if Tsuna decides to sack you for this stunt?”

“Aw, my Tsuna-fishie is just playing. He’ll come around once I show him that Daddy knows best.” Lal resists the urge to facepalm, and instead smiles attentively. As usual, Iemitsu takes this as encouragement to ramble on. “Kids should be in school, am I right? And my Tsuna-fishie struggles so much – ” Yeah, back when his Flames were sealed, which this idiot also thinks was a good idea – “And a rough-and-tumble Mafia school will be too much for him to handle!”

***

“… So I figue it will be a good opportunity to meet more people my own age,” Tsuna said. On his laptop screen, Timoteo nodded.

“Much as it pains me, my generation is on our way out. This means you’ll be in Italy for your birthday?”

“Yes, and yes, you can organise a party.” Agreeing to a Vongola-style party – he must have lost his mind. “We’ll be staying in the Academy dorms, but at the Fort on weekends. I’ll let Fiorino know.”

“You’ll be going incognito?”

“Trying to, anyway. I want to observe how Mafia Academy works without my title getting in the way.” His own were already making bets on how long his cover would last. It was less than a month! He wiggled his toes against Fon’s back; the Storm was currently serving as his footstool. “I’ll have my guardians with me, and the Hibari have people at the Academy too. Kyoko is having fun vetting the staff and students.” Across the table from him, Kyoko winked.

The study in their secret base was littered with documents about Mafia Academy; floor plans, course listings, and any other information they could find. Reborn was outside, giving Hayato and Takeshi a refresher on bodyguarding techniques. “I’ll let you know if I need to pull in any more Vongola men. Is there anything going on within the Family I should know about?”

Timoteo shook his head. “That minor situation in Madrid is ongoing; Ganauche should have sent you the reports. And we’ve started renovations on the ski lodge.”

Tsuna perked up. “Oh, you’ve decided?” The chalet was in the Italian alps, hundreds of kilometres from Sicily – hopefully far enough to keep the Ninth generation out of Mafia politics.

“It was always our first choice,” said Timoteo. “Wit a bit of fixing up, I believe I shall thoroughly enjoy my house arrest.”

“You’re putting in a full Donald Duck library?”

“You know me well, Tsuna.”

Chapter Text

Tsuna’s birthday fell on the first Monday of their Mafia Academy stay, so the public party was being held on the preceding Saturday. The ballroom was done up in an autumn theme with orange, gold and brown, and arrangements of gourds and nuts. “Remind me to give Fiorino a bonus,” he told Hayato.

“No shit, Juudaime. This is spectacular.”

Tsuna tucked an arm around his Storm. “Are you ready for this?”

“So far.” They had allowed Hayato’s father to obtain an invitation, to get him in range of some payback.

“He has no hold over you. You’re mine now.” Hayato was wearing his collar with his suit instead of a tie; the other end of his leash was looped around Tsuna’s wrist. “Wait until the after party and I’ll prove it.”

“I could never doubt it, Cielo mio.” Hayato knelt briefly to nuzzle into Tsuna’s side. The ballroom doors swung open to admit their first guests.

“Tsu-kun, there you are!”

“Mama!” She was dressed in a periwinkle gown for the occasion; Bianchi was at her heels in a crisp pantsuit and shades. Tsuna stepped across the room to hug her. “What do you think of the Fort? Do you like your room?”

“It’s wonderful. I feel like I’m in a historical drama – we even went through a mysterious portal to get here.” There was now a permanent Mist gateway linking Kokuyo Land to the Iron Fort. That way, he would never be far from any of his family.

***

Belphegor swept into the hall at his king’s heels; the throng of peasants parted before them, none daring to come between them and their overlord. Tsuna stood in the midst of his subjects. Belphegor bowed with his fellow Guardians while Xanxus made his obeisance. Let the rabble stare; they had no chance of comprehending their betters. On that note –

“The Prince heard that his royal cousin would be in attendance.”

Tsuna smiled. “Yeah – the kids are set up in the billiard room. Chrome can direct you.” Belphegor looked to his king for permission.

“Go for it,” said Xanxus. “If anyone starts shit, you’re posted with the brats.” Excellent. Belphegor made a circuit of the ballroom to remind the peasants who their superiors were, then sought out the little Mist maid. He knew the usual way to the billiard room, but their overlord would take steps to protect his younger family members.

His royal cousin Fuuta was there, along with his companions Lambo and I-pin, as well as the princess of the Giglio Nero and her Guardians. They had shrunk the billiard table’s legs and were playing some hybrid of pool and bocce.

“Cousin Belphegor!” Fuuta sprang up to greet him. He was wearing his silver crown in proper royal style.

“Well met, cousin. Shall I join your game?”

“Sure! The cues were too long for most of us, so we made something up.”

“And you can’t win just by throwing knives,” added Fran.

“Ushishishishi, is that what you think?” Such an ill-mannered frog would never be Varia Quality.

“I think you can’t even aim properly with that curtain in front of your face!”

“Does the carpet match the drapes, though?” said Marianne, and then turned bright red.

“Ushishishishi. That is not for peasants to know. Princessa, do your hellions ever behave themselves?” A few cuts would be enough to teach them discipline, if the princess allowed it.

“Never. It’s great!” Ah, they were jesters, then.

The musician girl turned up her nose. “He’s the hellion; I’m the mature one.”

“Mature like a cheese,” the Frog responded, “Old and crusty.”

“Hmph. Excuse me while I get a grown-up drink that you’re too young to have.”

***

Nana strolls gleefully around the ballroom as it fills with guests. Her son has so many friends – and more people who want to be his friends. She accepts a glass of champagne from Mukuro, who is posing as a waiter; he winks at her. With so many of Tsu-kun’s people nearby, she doesn’t need to worry about misbehaviour. Bianchi is right at her elbow; it’s a shame they can’t bring along Shamal or Flora, but it’s not time for that scandal yet. That Man is invited for appearance’s sake, but he’s fashionably late, and the ballroom is already full of gangsters.

A well-dressed couple emerges from the throng. “Bianchi! I didn’t know you would be here too!”

“Daddy, I’m on the clock,” she hisses. Nana claps he hands.

“Oh, you must be Don and Donna Colombo. I’ve heard so many things about you.” A few of them are even good!

“And you are?” Don Colombo asks cautiously.

“Nana Sawada. It’s my son who’s hosting this party.”

“Bianchi never mentioned she was working for the Vongola,” said the Donna.

“You must be so proud of your daughter,” Nana continues. “She’s the best security I’ve ever had.”

“Stop it, I’m blushing.” Bianchi mutters. Nana twirls around and kisses her on the cheek; she blushes all the way down to her turtleneck.

“You deserve every word.” Nana turns back to the Colombos, who are looking slightly choked. “Oh, have you seen your son yet? It’s been a while since all of you were in the same place..”

The Donna sniffs. “That boy is here too?”

“Oh yes – wherever my Tsu-kun is, Hayato is sure to be nearby.”

“Yes, well … if you’ll excuse us.” The pair moves away, and Nana smiles to herself. Some actions, as they will discover, are inexcusable.

***

The party had been under way for an hour, and Tsuna-sama was still greeting people. Hayato offered his elbow for his Sky to lean on; the baseball idiot was making himself useful by damping out the noise. Tsuna-sama rested his head on Hayato’s shoulder for a moment, then signalled Chrome to let the next group through.

Everyone was here. Cavallone, Yuni, the Varia; even the Simon had sent a representative. Since public appearances by the Vongola heir were still a rare event, demand for the remaining tickets had been fierce. No doubt Hayato’s father thought he was lucky to get hold of any.

The living fence of their allies parted, and the Colombos stepped through. Hayato’s father hadn’t changed much; his silver hair made it hard to tell if he had aged. The Donna, however, was wearing more makeup than she used to, and her hair had hints of grey at the roots. Hayato barely kept himself from laughing at her expression as she was forced to decide between sneering at him or kissing up to Tsuna-sama.

Don Colombo held out his hand to Tsuna-sama. “We’re honoured to be here, Signore.”

“I’m glad to see you here,” said Tsuna-sama. “Both of your children are a great addition to my family.” And the Colombo Famiglia wouldn’t be getting either of them back.

“Er. Hmm. Hayato, you’re looking well … is that a collar? Signore Sawada, what position exactly have you put my son in?” Oh, it would serve him right if they went into detail. “Hayato, you were my heir; whatever he’s offered you can’t possibly – ”

Hayato casually laid his hand on his Sky’s shoulder, showing off his Guardian ring. His father turned a fascinating color. “Are you using him as leverage on Bianchi, is that it?”

Tsuna-sama giggled. “Don’t be silly. Miss Banchi is getting a generous salary. Only the worst kind of person would use one sibling to harm another, don’t you agree?”

All they could do was smile, nod, and beat a hasty retreat. Hayato made a satisfied sound. The Vongola wouldn’t need to destroy his former Famiglia, simply absorb it. Bianchi had already given the Donna a taste of her own medicine, so there would be no more legitimate heirs.

Tsuna-sama squeezed his hand. “Better?”

“Much better, cielo mio.” The family he was born into was no comparison to the family his Sky had given him. ‘May I bring you some snacks?”

“Get enough for both of us.” Tsuna-sama tucked the end of the leash into his coat pocket. Hayato hurried over to the buffet table.

Elisabeta had pulled out all the stops for this one. Pastries, cheeses, olives in every color. There was lemon chicken on skewers, and sesame-crusted scallops served in Chinese porcelain spoons. A few dishes combined Sicilian and Japanese cuisine; Hayato selected pine nut and currant rice balls, and filled the rest of his plate with tidbits.

No need to worry about drinks, since Mukuro was attending to that personally. Not only that, the ornamental pineapples on the buffet table had eyes carved into them, and Hayato could see sparks of indigo within. It was almost like the Mist didn’t trust the Mafiosi with his Sky’s wellbeing.

“Kufufufu, can you blame me?”

When Hayato returned to Tsuna-sama’s side, he was chatting with Lussuria and Levi. The Sun was enveloped in a multi-tiered golden ballgown. “That looks like a Disney cosplay, Luss-nee.”

“That’s because it is, darling!”

“She talked me into it,” said Levi, who was in the matching tailcoat and breeches.

Hayato offered Tsuna-sama the leash with one hand and the plate with the other. Tsuna-sama scratched his chin. ‘Somebody’s getting a nice present tonight,” Lussuria sang at them. “And look; I do believe the entertainment is starting.”

At one end of the ballroom was a small stage. Reborn stood on a podium in front of it, illuminated by a spotlight. “Ladies and gentlemen and variations thereupon, family and honoured guests. In the long-standing Vongola tradition, the Family’s Mafiosi will now perform for their Sky’s amusement. Whichever of them earns the fewest points will forfeit his life!”

There was an appreciative murmur from the guests. Tsuna-sama twitched. “I almost forgot this was a thing.”

A team of Iron Fort staff carried in a sofa and set it down facing the stage. Reborn’s podium zipped away on hidden wheels, and the first contestants stepped up – a pair of Chinese tiger-dance costumes. Tsuna-sama flopped into a seat; he pulled Hayato across his lap and fed him an olive. “Help me keep track of the points, ok?”

***

They were serious. Marianne had heard that the Vongola were all crazy; but then she would risk death too, if it meant going to a party like this! She strutted through the ballroom towards the bar. Open bar, because being rich was awesome. She decided on rosé, and the barkeep told her they had different kinds. She picked one at random.

Leaning against the bar was a Sky she hadn’t met yet; she knew him from pictures as the Vongola External Advisor. Glass in hand, he was bragging to some other middle-aged men. “My Tsuna-fishie counts on me a lot, you know. And my delicate wife – she prefers to stay at home …”

His wife was standing at the other end of the ballroom; was he so drunk he hadn’t noticed? Marianne wrinkled her nose; Iemutsu’s Flame was about as harmonious as a rusty hinge. How did his cronies stand it?

“Hey there, Miss. What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” She ignored him. “Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. I can show you a real good time.”

Maybe he hadn’t noticed that his wife was in the room. Marianne leaned in close. “Listen very carefully, for I shall say this only once. Keep your paws to yourself; I am not available.” She stalked away. Behind her Iemitsu whined,

“Aw, girls never know a good man when they see one.” If that was a good man, then Marianne would start looking at women instead.

***

Sometimes, Tsuna’s people could be incredibly silly. The birthday contest was the kind of high stakes that Flame users craved; it was also a chance for lower-ranking members of the Vongola to gain admission to the ball. But leaving the decision to him? He should have talked this over with Timoteo beforehand, to see how the older Sky had handled it. Tsuna certainly wasn’t going to spend his men’s lives on something as frivolous as a birthday party.

A conjuror showered the stage with a dozen decks of cards, with no hint of mist to show how he’d hidden them. “Wow – eighteen hundred points.”

A pinstripe-suited man with a saxophone played Rhapsody in blue. “Hmm. Nine hundred points.”

A trio of young men staged a mock battle with bananas and much straight-faced double entendre. “Snerk. A thousand points each.”

One of the Fort’s drivers put on a wig and sang aria about the trials of romance.

“At times you feel a little lonely, a little lonely
If Mr Wrong comes bothering you to have him, bothering you to have him
At once you feel like ending your days in a lighthouse
Ending your days in a lighthouse!”
The singer stepped to the edge of the stage and bowed to him.

“Twelve hundred points.” Tsuna decided. He dug his fingers into Hayato’s hair. A dozen acts, nearly thirty people in all, had taken the stage to risk their lives on his word. He was trying not to think too hard about it.

Reborn drove his motorized podium to the front again. “The time has come to announce the winner … and the loser!”

If they had to. Tsuna rose and stood next to the podium. He felt like he was on a reality show. “The participant with the most points,” declared Reborn, “Is Luciano di Perchi.” That was the card magician. Tsuna shook his hand and gave him a laurel wreath and an envelope of money.

“The participant with the lowest points is … “ A hush fell over the ballroom. (Mafia, why were they like this?) “Wild Cat Rufio.” That was the saxophone player; his performance hadn’t been bad, just less interesting than the others. Rufio stepped forward without hesitation and knelt at Tsuna’s feet.

“My life is yours, Decimo.”

Tsuna held back a sigh. “Can I get a rain check on that?”

“Of course, Decimo. It will be on your desk by morning.” Rufio kissed his ring.

***

In the dark of night, a boat slipped from its pier onto the Mediterranean. It was crowded with passengers, more than it should hold, and it lurched with every wave. A brother and sister sat together, bracing each other against the motion, and watched their native land fade into the distance.

Chapter Text

The next morning found Tsuna at the Vongola cove, sitting on a log bench and staring at an envelope. It was sealed, but these days that was no obstacle to reading the contents. The letter pledged him the authority to order Rufio’s death, at any time, for any reason. What was he supposed to do with that?

It wasn’t even the first time; life, death and everything he owned, had been Fon’s vow, but he had a Guardian bond, so it was different. Or was it? Maybe he should have Fon set up a support group, if they were going to go through this every year.

A weight settled on the bench beside him, along with a familiar red-orange Flame. “It’s a kick in the fucking teeth, isn’t it. Sometimes makes me wish I could fucking get drunk.”

“Why?” Tsuna hid his face in Xanxus’s side. “Why do they think I deserve this? I can’t just reject something so personal and – ”

“I know, Aniki.” Xanxus laid an arm around his shoulder. “Look at it this way; the Mafia’s fucking dangerous, but there’s no such thing as a suicide mission when fucking Flames are involved. Any man who’d die for you will live for you twice as hard.”

He would rather avoid the need for suicide missions in the first place, but, it was a fair point. “Hayato must be worried. I sort of snuck off …”

“He sent me down here. Figured I’d know what to fucking say. I was looking for a spar, but …”

“Sorry; hold that thought.”

***

On the third day of term, professor Yun Mu Tsu was called to the secretary’s office. This was a common event at Mafia Academy, and usually meant an official message from someone’s Famiglia; this was his first time receiving one.

The envelope was of expensive handmade paper. It was stamped with the Yunque seal, and beside it, Yin Tian’s personal seal. No postmark, of course; at this level, letters would be sent by courier. Mu Tsu ran his fingers over it curiously, took out a penknife, and carefully opened the envelope.

For the last few years, the Yunque had been enrolling students at Mafia Academy. These were second and third sons, who would not have the chance to serve in Yin Tian’s honor guard; it was a matter of pride for them to take part in this smaller program. Mu Tsu was too old, and his eyesight had never been the best. The Flames of his clan’s Sky laced into the letter were enough for him.

A brief text message summoned his clan-cousins. Lao, the eldest student, asked, “What news from the Clan, Shifu?”

“We receive instructions directly from Lord Yin Tian.” Mu Tsu lifted the letter reverently. “You all heard the announcement of the upcoming study-abroad program. Our Lord declares the visiting students to be under his protection, and thus commands us to discreetly assist with their security and comfort.”

“Who are they?” asked Lao.

“That is not for us to know. Recall that our Sky is called Hidden for good reason.” Mu Tsu smiled. “Speak with your security instructors; perhaps you can earn some extra credit in bodyguarding.”

***

He sauntered through the door – his door, to his home, with a box of treasure in hand. “Kufufufu.”

“Mukuro, did you just walk through the door without opening it?”

“Mist is a wonderful thing.” As are Storm, Sun and Rain, a family within a family. It’s not what it once was, returning to his brothers from elsewhere. He lays out his haul. Here were pickled beans, cured ham, that particular brand of pesto his Storm longs for. He kept the dark chocolate wafers to himself, and conjures up a lounge chair.

“Any trouble at the Boss’s party?” asked Ken. His brothers are still cautious of such things.

“None at all. Dear Tsuna is far too good at his job.” He had brought back the carved pineapples, too; he was sure to find an amusing use for them.

***

Mafia Academy was living up to its name already; besides the health and emergency contact forms Tsuna expected, the three visiting students also had to complete a firearms proficiency test. Good thing any student of Reborn’s knew their way around a handgun. Tsuna squared his shoulders, lined up the sights and squeezed the trigger.

Five shots; the cluster wasn’t as tight as Reborn or even Lambo could manage, but they were all in the ring. He intended to keep most of his skills quiet, but Reborn would chase him around the campus with a mallet if he intentionally flubbed his shooting. Reborn was nearby somewhere, scouting the Academy perimeter for potential sniper nests. Tsuna didn’t think he would find many; buildings in the area weren’t tall, and trees were planted on the grounds specifically to break up sight lines.

He clicked the safety on and set the gun down before turning to look at his Guardians. Takeshi wore his usual neutral smile, and Hayato was all but drooling. Tsuna winked at him. “Is it the earmuffs?”

Hayato nodded mutely. In that case, it would be a good idea to wear ear protection more often. Or perhaps headphones? “How did I do, instructor?”

The weapons instructor made a mark on his clipboard. “If that’s what you call basic knowledge, you’re keeping pace with most of our second years. I extend my compliments to your teacher.”

“Please don’t; his ego is already big enough.”

***

Mu Tsu showed the three visiting students into his office. “Welcome to Mafia Academy; we’ve formed an informal Asian Students’ Association, though so far we all speak Mandarin …”

“I know some Mandarin,” Tsuna said in that language.

“Working on it,” added Hayato.

“My hovercraft is full of eels,” said Takeshi.

“He understands more than he speaks,” Tsuna explained. “You are all part of the same clan, right?”

“Indeed we are. The Yunque clan, one of the oldest clans in the Triads.” He waved them into chairs while he poured tea. “Recently the clan had the good fortune to come under the rule of a Sky. Since you’re from Namimori, perhaps you’ve encountered him.”

“If I had, how would I know?” Tsuna pointed out. “There have been rumors going around for years but … he sounds like an impressive person.”

“Well, we don’t know much ourselves. Though Shifu Fon never calls him anything but Master, which is disconcerting.” Mu Tsu could imagine nothing more different from the fluffy student sitting in his office.

“Oh, you know Fon?” he said brightly. “We’ve met him a few times.”

“My clams can beat up your clams,” commented Takeshi. Hayato elbowed him.

“Idiot, just stop.”

“Banana!”

***

The study-abroad students were not quite what Lao expected. Supposedly from a civilian school, two of the three were Flame active, and trained as well. The silver-haired one glared at the class, already impatient with the whole business; the dark one grinned obliviously; and the third looked as soft as dandelion fluff.

“Why don’t you introduce yourselves,” said the professor.

“Hayato Gokudera. I enjoy playing the piano and studying UMAs. My best subject is chemistry.” Lao figured he knew how to take care of himself.

“Hi! I’m Takeshi Yamamoto. I like all kinds of games, especially baseball.” Something about him made Lao’s neck prickle.

“I’m Tsunayoshi Sawada. Please call me Tsuna. Um, I like calligraphy and playing tag with my pet rock.” That had to be a joke … didn’t it?

***

The Iron Fort’s gardens were pleasant this time of year; many plants showed new growth after the summer’s heat. Timoteo strolled along the path that ringed the quarry garden, this time with Brow Nie at his elbow. “How are your joints, Timo?”

“Walking does them good, you were right about that.” Simply having more time for exercise had done wonders for his health.

“I’ll make sure you keep it up, then … is that the Young Lion’s Flame?”

So it was. How odd; Iemitsu preferred to spend his time in the city. “Perhaps he’s taking a look at the playground his son set up.” The bowl of the quarry was filled with a hedge maze. Timoteo had walked through it before the more entertaining features were added, but its finished state was rather too much exercise for him.

“Does he know what’s in there?”

“I doubt it.” This might finally be an attempt to relate to his son, but considering Iemitsu’s recent actions, Timoteo hadn’t enlightened him. They continued along the path; as they passed one of the entrances there came a rumbling noise, and then Iemitsu burst out of the maze, pursued by a large spherical boulder.

The boulder stopped at the edge of the maze, as it was programmed to do, and rocked side to side eagerly. Timoteo patted it. “Hello, Dwayne. We’re done playing for today.” At this keyword, the boulder trundled away into the maze.

Iemitsu was panting for breath on the ground; he was splattered with mud and festooned with bee stings.

“You could have just flown out,” Brow Nie told him, knowing full well that Iemitsu had never gotten the hang of Sky flight.

“Heheh. I think … it’s time to pay a visit to my darling wife!”

***

Salvatore had his doubts about this ‘study-abroad program’ from the beginning, and seeing the visiting students in person didn’t change his opinion. One of them was a civilian, for fuck’s sake! A man had to be tough to survive Mafia Academy; Salvatore sure hadn’t made it to the top of his class by being a soft touch.

He was doing sets on the leg press; half the student body was in the gym at any given time, always watching and comparing. Fluffy was in the mat corner, doing tai chi or some shit – that wasn’t going to impress anyone. Salvatore finished his set and moved on to the free weights. When he got to the rack, Fluffy and his friends were already there. “Oi. Budge over, some of us actually lift.”

“The fuck? We were here first,” said Goku or whatever.

“Maybe that’s how it works at your regular school, but at Mafia Academy there’s a pecking order, and you’d better learn where you stand on it.”

“There’s enough room for all of us,” Fluffy said mildly. “No need to argue.”

He was going to get hurt if he didn’t learn when to step the fuck back. What was he holding, one kilogram? Salvatore snorted and flexed his shoulders. “I could take you.”

Bright brown eyes smiled up at him. “Really? Balls deep?”

A snicker ran around the room while Salvatore floundered for a response. One of his classmates came to his rescue. “Salvatore, can you spot me on the bench press?”

“Sure, Yun.” He told himself there was no reason to care what Fluffy said; he had nothing to back it up with, right?

***

Back in their dorm room, Hayato put an arm around Tsuna-sama while he groaned into his shoulder. “What have I gotten myself into now?”

“He deserved it for speaking to you like that, Cielo mio.” At their level, even passing remarks had consequences. “If your cover gets blown, you may have to follow through.” Salvatore was a Cavallone man, and Dino would be honor bound to have him shot for insolence otherwise.

“Hiee? I’m not looking for any one night stands when I have you, Hayato.” Tsuna-sama kissed his jaw. Hayato purred. “It’s just, when someone gives me an opening like that … great, now everything sounds like an innuendo.”

“You really had him pegged,” said Takeshi. “Once he lets it sink in, I’m sure he’ll appreciate your point.”

… “Takeshi, which part is bothering you, the sex, or letting an outsider get that close to me?”

“Ahaha, mostly the second one.”

“I wouldn’t leave Decimo alone with him,” Hayato protested. He was of two minds about the incident. He would certainly object to a stranger aiming for a relationship with his Sky. But to watch a gangster offer his ass as a forfeit …

Tsuna-sama poked him in the ribs. “Perv. It’s not set in stone. Yes, I would have at least one Guardian in the room, and I would certainly use protection.” That detail, oddly enough, settled most of Hayato’s unease over the idea. “I also need to talk it over with Haru, Chrome and Xanxus at a minimum. If anyone objects, and that includes Salvatore, we’ll find a different solution.”

Hayato nuzzled his hair. “I would be honoured to provide my input. I mean, I’m sure things will come out right in the end. I mean … Baseball idiot, this is your fault.”

“Ahahahahahahaha.” The idiot was spending too much time with Belphegor.

***

The tension in the room eased, and Tsuna giggled with relief. Hyper Intuition got him into absurd situations sometimes. “It’s almost time for dinner, guys. Let’s go.”

In the hallway they encountered another student heading the same way, a saffron-yellow Sun Flame; he waved a greeting at them. Tsuna waved back. “Good evening, um …”

“You can call me Omar. How’s your first day treating you?”

“It’s had its ups and downs,” Tsuna answered.

“Yeah, the whole school has heard about what you said to Salvatore,” Omar agreed. Tsuna sighed.

“Wonderful.”

“The general view is that he had it coming. Salvatore’s not so bad usually, just …”

“Loud and Stormy,” Hayato put in.

“We know a few of those, don’t we, Hayato.” Even Fon had his moments.

They arrived at the dining hall and got in line. With everyone in suits, it looked like a cafeteria full of salarymen. But the windows were mirrored on the outside, and armed security guards were standing watch. “How do you like studying at Mafia Academy?” asked Tsuna.

“It’s my best chance for an education,” Omar shrugged. “Though they keep pushing me towards medic training; I don’t think it’s for me.” Tsuna could understand that. There was always demand for healers, but handling injured Flame users all day would test anyone’s Will.

“I know some famous Suns who didn’t go into medicine.”

“Like the Sun Arcobaleno?” Omar laughed. “I’m not cut out to be a hitman either. I’d rather build things. Houses and hotels and theatres and – ” his Flame flared as he spoke, causing students around them to protest. “… Sorry! Um, how about you?”

“I’d like to try graphic design; I’ve always liked calligraphy. Though I have some family responsibilities too.” Better not to go into that can of worms. “I’ve gone to civilian schools all my life, so this is quite a change.”

Omar grinned. “I’ll bet it is. Could you imagine this many active Flames in a normal school?”

***

“You won’t get away with this, Calamity-Pin!” Lambo pointed at her from across the classroom. Why? Because she had taken his last grape! I-pin stuck out her tongue.

“You should be eating broccoli!”

“I’m not a cannibal!”

The teacher came over and laid a hand on his shoulder. “There’s no need for this fuss, Bovino-kun. You’re in third grade now, it’s time to show a few more manners.”

How could he have manners when he had no more grapes? Lambo sulked until it was time to go outside and play. He was searching the bushes for the master thief I-pin III, when he heard them.

“You’re just a stupid foreigner playing with your stupid foreign toys.”

“Hey! Give Sokka back!”

Lambo scowled his fiercest scowl. He thought he had taught those boys not to look down on Italians, but they just started picking on smaller kids. It was time for Lucky Lambo, the quickest draw in the West, to dispense some justice.

“Give him back.”

“Don’t wanna. And maybe I’ll throw your dumb puppet in a mud puddle, or a trash can, or – gaah!” Lambo didn’t see what happened, but he felt the burst of Mist that came with it. That was the perfect moment to dash around the corner and punch the bullies until they ran away.

“Rosa, are you ok?”

Rosa picked up her sock puppet and dusted it off. “Did you see that, Lambo? I made Sokka bite them!”

“Bwahaha, now that you’ve got your Flames, you can be as cool as me.”

“I’m already cooler than you, silly.” The puppet stood up by itself and nodded.

Chapter Text

In Enzo Carelli’s mind his daughter was much too young to start bringing home boys. Even if that boy was nine years old and Decimo’s second Lightning element. “Signore Lambo, to what do we owe this visit?”

Lambo puffed out his chest. “I have very important business to discuss.”

“I got my Flames!” Rosa chimed in. “See?” Her sock puppet floated in front of her, as if held up by an invisible hand.

“What happened?” Carelli asked faintly. Japan was supposed to be safe for children, and Namimori was neutral ground. What could have caused his little girl to unlock her Dying Will?

“Some mean boys tried to take Sokka away,” said Rosa. “So I made Sokka bite them!” The puppet snapped its fabric jaws.

“Oh my,” said Julia, who had come up behind him. “We’ll have to find you a teacher. Moko-san must know somebody …”

“There’s a club,” said Lambo, “On Saturdays after school, for Flame Active kids. I’ll tell Haru-nee to send you the details.”

***

Hayato fed his Flames through his focus rings. Though Professora Grimasi had asked him to demonstrate his skill, it was Tsuna-sama he was trying to impress. He formed five concentric rings – one for each of his Flames, with Storm the largest and brightest. Each ring was perfectly round and steady.

“Remarkable,” said the Professora. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a person with so many secondary Flames – let alone wield them all simultaneously.”

“Hayato is a man of many talents,” chirped Takeshi.

“Like you would know, baseball idiot.” In his moment of distraction, the Flame construct collapsed. He snorted; he would need to improve on that if he wanted his Systema to work properly. He sat down next to his Sky, who took his hand and laced their fingers together.

The classroom, currently empty except for them, was a wide open space with chairs along the walls, and everything was made of Flame-resistant materials. Apparently the Professora did a lot of practical lessons. “Perhaps you would like to go next?” She asked Takeshi.

“Ahaha, I’m not as impressive as Hayato-kun. Now you see me – ” A cloak of Rain wrapped around him and he faded from view. The effect suppressed notice rather than sight, but that just meant he was concealed from all senses, including Flame sense. A moment later, another Rain field went up – this one to stifle sounds within the room. Then more, each for a different sense. Hayato twitched. This wasn’t the baseball idiot at work – it was the natural killer showing through. An unfamiliar environment, surrounded by Flame users of unknown loyalties, and only the two of them at Tsuna-sama’s side. No wonder Takeshi was on edge.

The Professora scanned the room for a minute, trying to spot him, then used a Flame technique like one of Levi’s to Harden reality around her. That was enough to disrupt Takeshi’s Flames; he was standing right behind her. The Professora raised an eyebrow. “And you’re still unaffiliated?”

“I’ve had offers,” Takeshi said lightly.

The Professora turned to Tsuna-sama, even though he had his Flame tucked away completely, and appeared Flameless. “I’m not sure if my class will be of any interest to you, young man, but I still encourage you to attend with your friends. If only to better understand the Flames you encounter.”

Hayato felt Tsuna-sama weighing her; tone, posture, the feel of her Flame. “Professora, do you have a piece of heavy paper or card? I want to show you something.”

He had decided. The Professora, curious, found a blank piece of card. Tsuna-sama leaned against Hayato for support, and laid the card across his palm. A tiny spark of Flame scorched letters onto the page: “Professora Grimasi, thank you for inviting me to participate in your class. – Tsunayoshi Sawada, Vongola X.”

The Professora had a hand pressed over her mouth in shock. Hayato marvelled at his Sky’s precision; the words were as crisp and steady as if scribed by a pen. Tsuna-sama held out the note, and the Professora accepted it.

“Well. I’m not sure there’s anything I can teach you in terms of Flame control, signore.”

“You’ve been at this much longer than I have, Professora; I’m sure your class will be informative.” Tsuna-sama smiled brightly. “Please, keep that note to yourself, it might be valuable someday.”

***

Nana turns her photo album to the next page. “And this is Tsu-kun on his first day of kindergarten.”

Flora squees with delight. “Oh, he’s too cute! And the little hat!”

“I know!”

Flora flips through her own album. “Here’s Basil building a sand castle.” The castle is crooked and topped with a snail; baby Basil is crusted all over with sand. In the next picture the snail is on Basil’s face and he looks disgusted. Nana giggles. She’s so glad Flora managed to take time off to visit; email and video calls just aren’t the same.

“I wish we had some pictures of them together at that age.”

“We both know whose fault that is,” says Flora. “I’m sure we’ll make do with new material.”

“Oh, certainly. And we must get more pictures of Basil with Kyoko-chan. And Tsu-kun and his Hayato.”

The front door opens; they’ve been expecting this, so the security system has been set to let the rust-orange Flame through. “Honey, I’m home!” That Man walks into the kitchen and stops short when he sees them sitting together with all the photo albums.

“Hello, dear,” they chorus.

“… I’m going out for a drink.” He turns around and walks right back out. Isn’t that just like him.

***

There was a commotion in the classroom when Tsuna arrived with his Elements. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a snake in one of the bookshelves,” said one of their classmates. “None of us can tell if it’s poisonous, and the teacher isn’t here yet.”

Snakes, why was it always snakes? Tsuna didn’t think this was one of Reborn’s gifts; it didn’t have any traces of Sun on it. Thanks to his tutor’s habits, though, he always kept some useful items on hand. Literally; he stuck his hands in his bag to hide what he was doing, and transformed his Leon-made bracelets into safety gloves. (He had also discovered a mitten mode, but in Sicily’s weather that wasn’t as useful.) His bookbag also held a canvas drawstring bag and a reusable heat pack. “Can I see, please?”

He nudged his way past the Academy students; on the shelf, sandy scales were visible in a nook between a dictionary and a clock. Tsuna carefully moved the clock aside to get a better view. “It looks like a juvenile Egyptian cobra.”

“How do we kill it?” asked another student.

“What did this little guy ever do to you?” He activated the heat pack and held out the bag, holding very still. “Come along, you silly wiggler.”

“Ahaha, you’re even collecting them without Sensei’s help. He’ll be so proud,” commented Takeshi.

“I feel like an animal hoarder.” After a few moments the cobra, sensing the heat, slithered into the bag. “About forty-five centimetres, a little underweight – it must be hungry.” He gently tied the drawstring closed.

By the time the teacher arrived, Tsuna was at his desk, writing up a notice: “Found: one (1) danger noodle.” He was kind of hoping no one would claim it, though.

***

“Algebra is hell,” Omar grumbled as he set his tray down beside the visiting students.

“I feel your pain,” said Tsuna. “My tutor had some strange ideas on how to motivate me; sometimes I have flashbacks” Omar hoped that was a joke. Tsuna was so fluffy and bright; what kind of sicko would traumatise him over math?

“Ahaha, do you have any weekend plans?” asked Takeshi.

Omar scooped up a forkful of salad. “I picked up a minor contract for extra cash. It’ll build my reputation a little.” And somehow keep his grades up at the same time. It wasn’t just about the diploma; his family had arrived in Sicily without papers, and Mafia Academy provided a legal identity for any graduate who lacked one. His family had worked hard to scrape together his tuition; he owed it to them to earn a good position.

“I know how that goes,” said Hayato. “Are you aiming for any family in particular?”

That question was never far from his mind. There was plenty of demand for a fighter or medic, but an architect, not so much. “I’m hoping for one of the Alliance families, Corvino, or maybe Cavallone if I’m lucky.”

“Not Vongola itself?” Tsuna asked curiously.

“That’s aiming a bit high for me, I think. Plus, they have a new Don coming in who nobody knows much about.” Some of the rumors were hair-raising – like that he had cowed the infamous Capo dela Varia. “It would be a risk.”

“Good point,” Tsuna mused. One of the upperclassmen, Yun Lao, paused next to their table.

“You all right there, Sawada?”

“It’s been a long day, but I’m fine, thanks.”

***

Carelli was taking his wife out to dinner, at the local Flame community gathering place he didn’t work at. “You’re becoming quite the gambler,” said Julia.

“TakeSushi is nicer, but I don’t want to spend my time off there too.” They had left Rosa in the hands of Decimo’s own Lightning Guardian, and could relax and enjoy their date night.

An energetic Indian waitress showed them inside, and Julia waved to another couple at the next table. “Moko-san, great to see you! This is my husband Enzo.”

“And this is my fiancé, Enrico Santori.” They exchanged handshakes, and agreed to push their tables together.

“You’re the new guy at Takesushi, right?” asked Santori.

“I’m on a kind of work-study to learn Japanese cuisine,” Carelli explained.

“You won’t find a better teacher than Yamamoto-san,” said Moko. Around them, the crowd was a mix of Italian, Japanese – were those Cervello? Four pink-haired women were gathered around a flustered young man. And slouching against the bar –

“Is that the Young Lion?” asked Carelli. It was – as Iron Fort staff, he had to know all the Vongola Skies on sight. But he had never seen one being avoided by the Flame Active crowd around him.

Santori made a face. “I’m afraid so. You’re both latent, right? Be glad you can’t sense him. Maybe we’re all imprinted on Inten-sama around here, but, ick.”

“Should we call somebody?” asked Julia.

“Looks like he’s being handled.” A squad of grim-faced pineapples marched across the floor towards Iemitsu.

“And that’s how you know this is Vongola territory,” said Carelli. He could use another beer.

***

Mafia Academy has one big advantage over Namimori High; that Takeshi won’t get in too much trouble for stabbing anyone who threatens his Sky. Hibari might even cheer him on. But if he carries a blade here, so does everyone else.

“Today, our topic is the nature of killing,” says the professor. “Killing in the heat of battle is said to be easier than killing in cold blood, but each has its own challenges, and you must be prepared to face both in your careers.”

Some already have. Takeshi can see it in their gaze, in the way they move. Hayato looks to tsuna, intent on service; Takeshi’s eyes are ever outward. Though none quite have the edge that he does.

“I don’t know if I could kill in cold blood,” says one. “In battle, where it’s my life or theirs, is one thing …”

“Maa, it’s all the same to me,” says Takeshi.

“Actually, I would rather kill in cold blood,” says Tsuna. “It seems like a decision I’d want to think over carefully … did I say something weird?”

***

Hayato was only mildly surprised when a bottomless pit opened in the hallway on the way to geography class. It wasn’t even a construct, just an image; hardly up to Namimori Mist standards. Tsuna-sama walked right through it. Hayato didn’t bother to disrupt the illusion, in case it was someone’s class project. That was probably it, because there was another one in the hall outside their classroom.

This Mist wasn’t even trying; there were several crates made invisible and piled around, alongside images of crates that weren’t really there. It was the sort of thing Chrome would conjure for the kids to play with. Hayato snorted at the Academy students stumbling around the hallway. Shouldn’t they be getting to class instead of horsing around?

Tsuna-sama spared no attention for the Mist working and walked straight to their classroom. “Come on, the professor is doing a talk on secret bases today.” Though the class was called geography, and was actually about combat terrain and holding territory.

“Ahaha, I wonder how he’d grade ours.” Takeshi took point as usual, while Hayato watched Tsuna-sama’s rear. And he was still hearing innuendoes everywhere.

“It wouldn’t be much of a secret if we showed him – what?” he asked; some of the students were giving them strange looks.

“I didn’t notice anything unusual,” said Takeshi.

Tsuna-sama tilted his head. “Oh, the boxes? I figured that was just a bored Mist. They weren’t any trouble.”

“Are you sure you go to a civilian school?”

***

The boat has been sailing west for days, following the coast of Africa; at some point it will turn north. The sea winds are scorching during the day, and freezing after dark. On the crowded deck, it’s difficult to get a good night’s sleep.

“Do you think we made a good decision, sister?”

“A less bad one, at any rate. It’s in God’s hands now.” There’s nothing left for them back home. They’re already better off than many of their fellow passengers; Ismail knows a trade and is able-bodied, and Samira speaks good English. That’s enough to get them started on a new life. The sunrise paints the sky red, and Ismail watches it with renewed determination.

***

Thursday was pizza day at the Academy, and this week, the topping was grilled vegetables and ham. Tsuna nibbled on his second slice; he’d have to ask Elisabeta to make this. There were strips of eggplant, zucchini, red and yellow pepper and onions.

He sensed the Wrath Flame coming just before the cafeteria doors burst open, and Xanxus strode through. The students scrambled out of his way; some knew him by description, and for the rest, his searing Flame was enough reason to get clear. His crimson eyes locked onto Tsuna as he approached.

His shoulders were tense; he was snarling under his breath. Xanxus didn’t often need his Sky, but when he did, it came on fast and hard. Tsuna set down his pizza and stood up. To his surprise, when Omar noticed Xanxus’s objective, he looked ready to jump between them. Xanxus smirked. “Damn, you work fast.”

“I don’t mean to.” It didn’t matter that his Flame was hidden; his nature showed through in other ways. “Shall we take this outside?”

“Che. After you.” Tsuna stepped away from the table; there was a collective rustle of shock as he turned his back to the Varia Commander.

The football field would be open enough for them to use their full abilities. Tsuna shed his suit jacket and laid it over the fence as he passed, then rolled up his shirt sleeves. He didn’t need to look back to know that Xanxus was grinning like a tiger. When Tsuna reached the center of the field he turned to face his Wrath, and held out a hand in invitation.

Chapter Text

Mu Tsu was about to step forward when Hayato caught his sleeve. “Don’t interfere.”

What? The boy was far too calm while the Varia Commander challenged his friend to a duel. And Mu Tsu had orders to protect them. “Don’t you know who that is?”

“Yeah. Do you?” What was that supposed to mean? “Just watch, they’ll be fine.”

Mu Tsu didn’t expect to see anything but a murder. Tsuna was half Xanxus’s size and unarmed. The wrath pounced on him and – he dodged. He kept dodging even as Xanxus attacked with a frenzy of fists and gunshots.

“Are you done with the fucking warmup?”

“Just about.” Tsuna struck back. For an instant, his fist was accompanied by a laser-like pulse of Flame.

***

Hayato bit his lip to keep from grinning. Tsuna-sama’s spars always started like this, with him evading his opponent, letting them tire themselves while he found their rhythm. Then he would ramp up his attacks until he pounded them into the dirt. It made Hayato shiver every time. He needed to keep his composure for now, though, because the whole school had come out to watch Tsuna-sama and Xanxus’s fight.

“Baseball idiot, we should get containment up.”

“Hai, hai.” Takeshi sent a coil of Rain at him; he combined it with his Storm and Cloud to form a shell around the football field. From somewhere under the bleachers, Daemon’s Mist rose to join it. The sequential Flames would make it more stable – though not as much as a full seven-Flame circuit – and it would dissipate and absorb any Flame attack that hit it.

That would come later. For now, Tsuna-sama was using his Flame in precise bursts alongside his blows. Startled noises rose from the audience as they realised what they were sensing. The Hibari professor looked like he’d been smacked with a fish.

Hayato still couldn’t watch the fight; he took out his phone and sent a group text. [Plan B is now in effect.] Now that Tsuna-sama’s identity was out, they would deploy more layers of security and data control.

“Voooi! Did I miss anything?” Squalo strolled up beside him and set a pair of drinks on the fence – a lemonade and a radler. Tsuna-sama launched himself into the air, and Hayato lost control of his grin. “Nah, they’re just getting to the good part.”

***

Xanxus slammed into the grass and laughed. There was going to be hell to pay for breaking his Sky’s cover, but fuck, that was what he was fucking here for. He rolled to his feet and levelled his X-guns.

Tsuna’s eyes glowed orange as he hung in midair, and Flames wreathed his armoured gloves. He was ready to get fucking serious. Xanxus fired as he charged, a fucking shitstorm of X-shots, and Tsuna slipped between them like they were fucking nothing. The next instant he was right up against Xanxus’s chest and whispered, “Next time I’m going to make you beg for it.”

Holy fuck. He totally would, too. Make him get on his fucking knees and beg to have his fucking ass whipped. The mental image distracted Xanxus for an instant, and Tsuna punted him across the field. He sent out Bester, Tsuna sent out Natsu and the duel turned into a free-for-all.

Fuck, he needed this. Needed his Sky to put him in his place and leave him aching from it. The trust Tsuna showed him was fucking unnerving; Xanxus needed to know that Tsuna could handle him at his worst.

Tsuna caught an X-shot between his fingers. “Is that the best you’ve got, Xanxus? Don’t get lazy on me.”

***

Salvatore couldn’t look away. That tiny fluffball of an exchange student was a Sky. One powerful enough to face down the Capo dela Varia.

“Did he just catcha bullet and throw it back?” muttered his friend Paolo. “… Crap, my phone just died.”

“Maybe don’t try to record the Sky who’s been hiding his presence?” hissed Yun Lao. Salvatore had a different reason to be alarmed. The whole school knew what he’d said to a Sky; some people were already giving him the side-eye.

“Guess I’d better prepare my anus.”

***

Xanxus knew they had reached the beatdown when Tsuna started throwing his shots back at him. Tusna’s Flame blanketed the field, and an orange corona surrounded him as he flew. No one would mistake him for a fucking civilian now. Xanxus had a spectacular set of bruises, a cracked rib, and the feathers in his hair were charred. He cackled. “Come at me, Aniki! I’m still fucking standing!”

“Really? Let’s see what you think of this.” Tsuna’s Flame coalesced into a motherfucking dragon. Clearly based on Fon’s Storm dragons, it coiled around its weilder before surging towards Xanxus.

“Oh hell yes.” He didn’t even try to block it. His back hit the dirt with a satisfying thud. A moment later Tsuna was on him, hand under his chin, fingers pressing into his veins.

“Mine.” He followed it up with a kiss to the forehead, then stepped back to offer Xanxus a hand up. Xanxus kissed his knuckles before letting go.

Tsuna walked to the fence, gathering up his Flame as he went, and by the time he reached it, only a faint glow showed through. “Did I rip my shirt at all?”

“Nope.” Xanxus grinned. He grabbed the drink his Shark had set out; their Elements fell into step with them as they passed.

“Warn us next time you’re in a mood,” Hayato grumbled at him. “It’s not healthy, getting too wound up.”

“What are you, my mother?”

“No, I’m your senpai. So eat your damn vegetables.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

***

A little while later they were holed up in Tsuna’s dorm room to recover. The cobra, who he’d named Udon, was coiled up in a tank with a mouse-sized lump in its middle. Reborn was stringing his hammock across the window, and Viper was typing furiously on a laptop while sipping from a beer helmet full of strawberry milk. “Mu, try to leak information on my watch, will you?”

“I’ll pay a bounty on each message yo intercept,” Tsuna told them. Squalo and Takeshi were idly playing Fruit Ninja on a tablet. Xanxus sprawled on Tsuna’s lap like a giant cat while Hayato curled around his feet. “Hey, Hayato, can you grab that figurine for me?” Hayato rolled over and passed him the half-horse bookend he’d bought from Kawahira.

“The fuck is that?” Xanxus muttered.

“It’s for a training exercise I came up with. A team from the Varia tries to leave this on my desk, and the Iron Fort’s security tries to stop them. At dawn, whoever has possession of the figurine – ”

“Is a horse’s ass,” Xanxus finished.

***

The secret base was most fun when it was full of people, in Haru’s opinion, even if it was less secret that way. Why? Because there were so many Flames! With Boss away having adventures, and Hibari busy setting up his Foundation, Haru had a very important job: looking after the kids!

“Gather round, everyone, it’s circle time! We have a new person to meet.”

Namimori had twenty Flame Active kids of elementary school age, and her grandpapa said that was a lot. Most people went Active when they were teens or older – unless they had Boss’s Flame to help them along. Haru waved at the new girl. “Please tell everyone your name and something about you.”

“Hi, um, I’m Rosa Carelli, I came from Italy with my parents … I like puppets. This is Sokka.” Rosa’s sock puppet hopped onto her shoulder, animated by Mist.

“Cooool,” was the response. Rosa was the first Mist in the club; most of them were Suns or Rains.

“Told you,” said Lambo. “Can you do any other cool stuff?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“That’s ok,” said haru. “Secret Saturdays are all about practicing with Flames and finding new things to do with them! Everyone, let’s introduce ourselves, and then we’ll play some games.” They played a few rounds of dodgeball with Flames allowed, for pratice. Then came Haru’s favourite part – suggestions!

“So, Rosa, what can you already do with your Mist? Is there anything you want to try?”

Rosa made her sock puppet hop around the courtyard. “It’s mostly just Sokka. He can move around and pick things up.” The puppet returned to her with an acorn in its mouth. ‘I tried to get a box of pocky off a high shelf, but it was too heavy.”

Haru nodded. “You’re still growing, so that might change. It’s already super cool that you can move Sokka farther than you can reach.” One of the boys put up his hand. “Do you have an idea, Kyo-kun?”

“Yeah, well, it kinda looks like you’re making a fake hand to move your puppet, right? So could you make fake feet and move shoes around? Or a whole fake body to make a doll move?”

“Oh, like in Angelic Layer!” That would take a trip to the Book-Off. “Rosa, does that sound like something you’d like to try?”

The young Mist nodded thoughtfully.

***

By breakfast Tsuna felt ready to face the public again. He put on his orange tie rather than the silver one he had been wearing, and slid the Vongola Sky ring onto his finger. Hayato and Takeshi flanked him as they always did. When they entered the dining hall, conversation paused; everyone rose from their seats and heads bowed respectfully.

Tsuna sighed. “Really?”

“Maa, you might as well get used to it, Boss,” said Takeshi.

“As you were, please,” Tsuna told the room. Wonder of wonders, they obeyed him. Most of the Academy’s students weren’t even Vongola men. Their usual corner table had been kept open – one of the Hibari students was standing guard; no doubt he had figured out just who Tsuna was. A kitchen helper brought their breakfast out on a tray before Tsuna could even think about joining the line. It did make his Elements less anxious, so he would just have to put up with the privileges of his rank. “I wonder if Dino had to deal with this.”

***

Omar emerged from the breakfast line with a jitter in his step. He would like to sit with the exchange students, but was he even allowed? Last night each class had had a hasty seminar on Sky etiquette; he still could hardly believe that the fluffy young man, who he’d even call a friend, was …

While he stood there hesitating, Tsuna caught his eye and waved for him to come over. Omar gingerly sat down. “Thank you for having me, um, sir?”

Tsuna rolled his eyes slightly. “You can still call me Tsuna, you know. I’m no different than I was yesterday.”

Hayato said, “Juudaime, you do realise that what you did yesterday was objectively terrifying.”

“Hie?” Tsuna squeaked, as if he hadn’t noticed anything special about wiping the floor with the Varia Boss. “Anyway, I should introduce myself properly. Sawada Tsunayoshi, Vongola Decimo.”

Hearing it confirmed, Omar’s breath caught. That was as high as the Mafia went; his two friends would be his Guardians, maybe even Hands – “Why me?” He might as well be an ant compared to them.

“Mostly because you were kind to visitors you didn’t know, with no apparent advantage for yourself.”

“And then he turned out to be a fairy godfather,” added Takeshi.

Omar turned a laugh into a cough. Fairy described Tsuna much too well, and – he blinked. Was he being recruited?

“It’s an offer, No strings.” Said Tsuna. A business card appeared on the table. “If you’d still like to go with Cavallone, I’ll put in a word with Dino-nii.”

***

He inspects the body draped over the couch, ignoring the empty cans around it. “Hangover,” he declares professionally, “And an advanced case of craniorectal disorder.”

“Oh my. Is it serious?” flutters his lady of rains.

“It’s terminal, I’m afraid.” The hopeless case stirs and groans.

“What a shame; Byan-chan wanted to cook him breakfast.” She takes out her phone. “I suppose we’ll have to find other ways to pass the time. Have you seen the video of Lambo-kun playing rock band with my pans?”

***

Salvatore tapped hesitantly on Vongola Decimos’s door. His big mouth had gotten him into this, and if he was lucky, his ass would get him out of it. He knew what happened to idiots who insulted a Sky, and Yamamoto had been giving him sharp looks.

It was Gokudera who answered the door, and directed him inside with a jerk of his head. Vongola was waiting for him.

“Take a seat, Salvatore, we have things to discuss.”

“I am prepared to follow through on my words, Decimo.”

“I’m sure you are. That’s not the only factor we need to consider.” Vongola smiled; his Flame filled the room, making Salvatore’s knees shake. “I’ve discussed the situation with all of my current partners. Do you have a partner who would be bothered by this?”

“No, sir …” Partners, plural?

“Are you okay with this? If not, I can talk to Dino-nii about a different penalty – one that won’t involve having you shot, that is. I’m not into unwilling participants.”

“I … don’t know, sir? I’ve never tried it before.” But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had avoided the trio since that incident in the gym, since any time he saw them, he couldn’t avoid the mental image. His face heated up. “I just … what are my friends going to say? Will people start calling me finocchio or – ” He clapped a hand over his mouth before he could say anything else offensive. “I’ve been wondering what it’s like.”

“Ahaha, I can see you’ve thought about it long and hard,” said Yamamoto.

"If they tease you, own it," said Decimo. "You'll have no reason to be ashamed; I'll make sure of it."

***

The teapot shook in Mu Tsu’s hands and he breathed deep to still them. It was not every day that a simple school teacher played host to his clan’s liege. These Sicilians might not have figured it out, but to one who knew the meaning of Yin Tian’s name, and witnessed the display of his skill …

“He was right in front of us this whole time,” said Xian. The Clan’s students waited in Mu Tsu’s office, three on each side, for the Yunque’s Sky to approach.

“What we don’t know, we can’t reveal,” Mu Tsu reminded them. A small, unworthy part of him was disappointed, though he understood the principle of need-to-know. “We have adhered to our orders, which came from Yin Tian’s own hand.”

“So you did.” Their fluffy overlord stepped into the room; his Rain closed the door behind him. The clan-cousins shot to their feet, and just as quickly bowed before him. Mu Tsu was just a beat behind. ‘Thank you,” said Tsunayoshi. “Please return to your seats.”

Not the easiest task, with his Flame bathing the room. Who could fail to be humbled before it? “May one offer tea?” Mu Tsu asked as they arranged themselves.”

“You may.” Tsuna sat down next to Lao, who looked close to fainting. This was the students’ first close encounter with Sky Flames. “I apologise for keeping you in the dark. I couldn’t easily bring my honor guard and stay incognito, but this way, the Clan can uphold its duty.”

“We are grateful for the opportunity,” Mu Tsu managed.

“Don’t wear these until after winter break, but you deserve these.” He took a handful of small brass lapel pins in the shape of Yin Tian’s emblem. Service pins, as those in his honor guard wore. “It gets more difficult from here, though.” Tsuna accepted his teacup and inhaled the aroma. “I revealed myself as Vongola Decimo, not as Yin Tian, and I would like to keep those identities separate for now. That means you must all continue to treat me as an ally of your Boss, rather than your Boss himself.”

That could prove difficult.

“Lord – ” Xian started, then cut himself off. Tsuna gestured for him to continue. “Lord, if you are seen associating with us, could that not also be viewed as the Vongola trying to sway the Clan away from Yin Tian?”

“That sounds like a fun game to play,” said Takeshi. Mu Tsu gave him a suspicious look.

“It would certainly muddy the waters,” said Tsuna. “What do you think, Hayato?”

“So far, we’ve been suggesting that the two are allies, but there’s no reason we can’t let both rumors spread.”

Mu Tsu suddenly wondered if there was any truth to that story about space aliens.

***

He leaned against the counter of his favourite ramen stand, bowl in hand. Such was life among the clams; one noodle incident after another. Expecting a mischievous day, he ordered kitsune ramen.

He had but to wait for his plaything. There – hung over, ragged, slouching along the street. The faded Sky throws his coins on the board. “Miso ramen, please.”

He baited his hook. “Neighbor, you look like you’ve had a long day.”

“It’s just not natural,” the man whines. “Everyone only talks about Tsuna-fishie. It’s like they don’t care who I am anymore.” He slurps his noodles. “You know who I am, right?”

“Oh, yes. You’re a fishmonger, aren’t you?”

“What? No, I’m a very important person! Not like, like whatever you are.”

“A mere dealer in curiosities. Anything from hawks to handsaws.” A twist of Flame for a twisted man, to confuse and confound.

A dolorous sigh. “Fathers are supposed to be stronger than their kids, so that kids need their help. Once my Tsuna-fishie realises that, we can be the family we’re meant to be.”

“Indeed, a proper parent supports their children rather than tearing them down.”

“I knew you’d agree with – what was that noise?”

A golden bird landed on the rim of his bowl, softly chirping. “Old man! Old man! Ramen!”

“What noise?”

“False carnivore. You are disrupting my territory.”

The Jackass exits, pursued by a Cloud.

Chapter Text

A thunderstorm raged over the Iron Fort, gale force winds slamming rain against the windows. Timoteo would miss this; Val Gardena had its mountain blizzards, but those didn’t quite have the same energy. A fire crackled in the parlor’s hearth, augmented by Timoteo’s own Flames. He was immersed in a dog-eared volume of Donald Duck, while most of his Elements idled around with a miniature bocce set on the rug. Visconti was off on his own, and Coyote lounged on the window seat, watching the storm. He twitched and focused on something outside; Timoteo made a questioning noise.

“Thought I sensed a Flame flare – out towards the sea.”

“Who would be fool enough to be on the water on a night like this?” Even those with Flames did not trifle with the sea. No sooner had Timoteo said it, though, than the Fort’s security alert chimed. Timoteo reached for his phone and called the control room. “What’s happening?”

“There’s a shipwreck in progress, Sir. Just outside the Family’s cove. We don’t know if it’s a Trojan horse op or something else.”

“I’m too old for this crap,” grumbled Coyote.

“Ah, but it’s not technically our problem anymore.” Timoteo smiled; it had been decades since he had been able to foist responsibility on someone else. “We’ll report it to the Don, and let him handle it.”

***

“Well, whoever they are, we can’t just let them wander around in the cove,” Tsuna said into his phone. “Bring them up to the ballroom where we can keep an eye on them, and treat them as guests unless they prove otherwise.” Hayato held up his suit jacket and he slid his arm into it. Intuition was saying this wasn’t an attack, but still emergency. “Have all the medics on standby; I’ll see if Shamal’s available.” He hung up and finished dressing – thank goodness he hadn’t changed into pyjamas yet! Hayato, Takeshi and Reborn were all geared up, so, “Daemon, beam us up, please.”

“That meant something different when I was young,” said the cat. There was a swirl of Mist, and they were in the Iron Fort, staff already rushing around them.

Tsuna took a deep breath. “Right. Matteo-sensei, get in touch with Shamal, he’ll listen to you. Then go to the cove, we’ll need every Sun down there.” Reborn tipped his hat and darted away. “Takeshi, see what Elisabeta is working on to feed our guests, then help with keeping them calm.” Hayato, he knew, would not budge from his side; he took hold of his hand. “Mukuro, are you there?”

“Kufufufu.” The laugh echoed in his mind. Then came, not words, but images. A small boat wedged onto the rocks, men, women and children clinging to it. Mukuro’s senses tagged them as Flameless or latent, some newly Active from the danger. The Fort’s staff were moving down to meet them, Reborn’s yellow Flame overtaking them. Voices called out in – “Is that Arabic?”

“I believe so, dear Tsuna.” So they would need translators. Tsuna reached for his phone again.

***

The rain is too thick to see the other end of the boat. Ismail clings to the rail, his fingers long since numb. If his grip fails, he’s sure to be thrown overboard; he has no way to know how many passengers have been swept away already. Their fate is in God’s hands.

There is a tremendous crunch and lurch, and children start screaming despite their exhaustion. Another lurch, a sharp drop, and the boat lies still. It takes a long moment before Ismail understands what’s happening. In flashes of lightning he sees that the boat has been thrust over a ridge of rocks, and is now in a small cove. The rain still falls in blinding sheets, but the waves can no longer reach them. The storm’s darkness is deepening towards night; it will be cold, but as long as the boat stays put, they are safe. Ismail squints through the gloom, trying to see a way to climb down the rocks.

Twin beams of light cut through the darkness. A vehicle. Has someone noticed them already? More follow it, and soon men are swarming over the rocks with ropes and ladders. Now that rescue is at hand, ismail is too exhausted to move.

A figure appears beside him, and he stares at it blankly. Lean, sharp-featured, in a lizard-themed rain jacket. He’s so tired he’s seeing things, because he could swear the lizard-jacket winks at him. “Up you get.” The moment the man touches his arm, Ismail feels a fresh burst of energy, enough to climb down the rocks and into a waiting truck. “Welcome to Sicily.”

***

The portal to Kokuyo Land meant that Tsuna could quickly call on his family in Namimori for help, and since it was already morning in Japan, they were all well rested. The Cake Appreciation Club smoothly took over the tasks of hospitality, with Nana and Bianchi helping them.

Shamal swept into the ballroom like a diva onto stage, introduced himself as Shamal al-Hakim, and was soon chatting with the rescuees in their own language. To Tsuna’s surprise, the doctor made no comments about the gender of his patients. When Tsuna caught up with him, he was carrying a small boy on his hip.

“I was expecting more complaints from you,” Tsuna said curiously.

“This could have been me, forty years ago.” He nodded at the child in his arms. “People have been crossing the Middle Sea to seek their fortunes for a long time.”

And Shamal, at least, had done well for himself. Tsuna would have to see if any of these men would suit positions in the Vongola.

***

This was a kind of party the Fort’s ballroom had never fucking seen before, and a more useful one in Xanxus’s fucking opinion. The guests all looked like drenched rats, and the staff were handing out blankets and jugs of mint tea. Tsuna stood among the rescuees; at first glance he was alone, but Hayato was talking to Fiorino two paces away, and there was a blur of Rain by the wall behind him.

The dozen Arabic-speaking Varia agents he’d brought already had their orders and fanned out across the room. Xanxus went straight for his Sky. Tsuna, as usual, looked exasperated by the whole fucking situation; he was trying to talk to one of the trash using a notepad and gestures. Tsuna greeted his arrival with relief; the other man, not so much. He took a hard look at Xanxus’s approach and hissed, “Assassin.”

“Good eye,” Xanxs told him. “You need to work on holding your fucking tongue though.”

“Xanxus, don’t scare the guests,” Tsuna said in Italian. “They’ve had a long day already. I take it you can translate for me?”

“Why I’m here, Aniki.” Xanxus grinned and stepped into place at Tsuna’s elbow.

“Ask him what his name is.”

“What’s your name, tra – ” Tsuna elbowed him. “What’s your name?” And if the trash was scared of him before, Tsuna ordering him the fuck around wasn’t going to help.

***

This wasn’t how Kyoko expected to spend her weekend, but surprises were the spice of life. She moved through the huddle of women and children, using her Sun to ease hypothermia, aches and bruises, and general fatigue from being tossed around in the storm. The women had formed their own cluster in one corner; this was definitely a job for the Cake Appreciation Club.

“Are you all right? Would you like some tea?” Even if they didn’t share a language, tone could convey a lot. Kyoko gave a mug to a young woman who blinked at her and said carefully, “Hello, do you speak English?”

“Yes, I do!” Thank goodness for all her studying. “I’m Kyoko, what’s your name?”

“I am Samira. Thank you for helping us.” The other women noticed they were talking to each other, and gathered around.

“There’s going to be hot food soon,” said Kyoko.

The women talked briefly among themselves. “Sarai asks if the food is halal?”

“I don’t know what that is, but the food is vegetarian.” A lentil stew, Elisabeta had told her … wait, Elisabeta had told Takeshi that; Mukuro had relayed it to her.

“That is good,” said Samira. They went around together to check if anyone was injured or needed medication.

“Did you learn English in school?” Kyoko asked.

“Oh, no – I love watching American TV shows!”

***

Their conversation was interrupted by a groan of pain. One of the women, heavily pregnant, was going into labor. “We need a doctor,” said Samira.

Kyoko scanned the hall and came to an unfortunate conclusion. “Shamal is the best we’ve got. The problem is, he’s a man.”

The soon-to-be mother understood her last words, and snapped a comment that made Samira snort. “A man started this, and a man can help finish it,” she repeated.

Well, then. Kyoko waved to Bianchi. “Byan-chan, can you bring Shamal over? And Chrome, see if you can find a screen for some privacy.” Chrome ducked into the hallway to conjure it out of sight of the civilians.

Bianchi towed the doctor over to them. :Don’t make me regret this, Shamal.”

“Not my kink, my dear.” Kyoko made a face; thank goodness for language barriers. Whatever his faults, Shamal was a professional, and as a Mist, he could pull whatever tools he needed from his bag. While the storm still howled against the ballroom’s steel shutters, he helped deliver a healthy baby girl.

“She should be named Daenerys,” said Samira.

***

Ismail has seen his share of shady business, enough to know the look of a killer, and a man who casually uses assassins as translators is not the fluffy innocent he appears to be. He has heard things about Sicily. Legends say that men there have the blood of Jinn in their veins; surely the scarlet-eyed assassin is no ordinary man, and the youth with the sparkling ring commands him like King Solomon.

“Do you know how many people were on the boat?”

“Fifty-eight passengers, four crew.” Which is far more than should be on a boat that size; he knows the number because the captain liked to complain, loudly, as if the passengers forced him to take their money.

His young host sighs and turns aside to one of his servants. The assassin says, “He says we found all but three of you.”

“That’s … better than I hoped for.” In doing so, they haven’t overtly shown any strange powers, but out of the corner of his eye, Ismail keeps seeing flashes of colored flames. No one else seems to notice them. “Did he craft that ring to bind you?” The question spills out before he considers how rude it might be. The assassin just grins.

“I gave him the ring.”

***

For hours Basil has gazed into his laptop, striving to ignore the babbling of his erstwhile master. “Soon my boy will see sense. Just you watch, he’ll be back to the cute Tsuna-fishie who needs his papa.”

In recent hours, Tsuna has called up al lhis family save his father – even Basil, mid-flight, is tasked to seek employment for the flock of castaways. Yet his lord brother has no use for Iemitsu. Basil chooses not to enlighten the man. He whiles away the journey trading messages with his dearest Kyoko, some personal missives among them, and delivers a report unto his lord in the wee hours. The drive from the airport to Agrigento he sleeps; ’tis as much escape as rest.

His brother’s bright Flame wakes him as they pass the bounds of the Fort. Not much longer, now.

“Hang in there, Tsuna-fishie, Papa is coming to save the day!” Iemitsu bounds from the vehicle, to be struck full in the stones by a baseball.

“My bad,” calls Basil's fellow Rain, of equal skill with ball and blade. Iemitsu, unprepared, crumples to the ground; Basil steps around him.

“Peace,” he answers, “For ’twould surely be a wonder, to strike an area so small a-purpose.”

Chapter Text

It had been a long fucking night for everyone; Xanxus finally caught some shuteye after dawn, draped across Tsuna’s lap in the Don’s office. He woke to the scent of fucking amazing coffee and the sound of fighting. “The fuck’s that?”

“Kyoya and Squalo blowing off steam. They’ll be fine,” said Tsuna, and rubbed behind his ears. Xanxus purred. “In the mood for breakfast?”

“If you want me to move, make it a fucking order.”

“Who said anything about moving?” Hayato passed Tsuna a plate which he set down on Xanxus’s chest. It was full of little steamed buns, and when the fuck had Elisabeta had time to make those? Tsuna fed him one and it burst on his tongue with a splash of meat and gravy.

Tsuna had his phone in his other hand, open to an email. [Foreigner, I require 1200 euros to hire a web designer for the village’s tourism page. References attached. – V Bruno.]

“That’s your Cloud brat, right? He’s got the fucking attitude for it.”

“I heard that, Kong,” Hana said from across the room.

“Bite me.”

“Not until you take a shower.” Fair. Tsuna fed him another dumpling.

“Kyoko tells me that our guests are all settled down. She and Basil have compiled all their information and gotten a start on placements.”

“You keeping any of them?” They’d been shipwrecked in the Vongola cove; that seemed like a fucking omen.

“A few,” Tsuna shrugged. “Some of them already have destinations in mind. That one man, Ismail, went Active as a Rain, and he’s a builder, too.” The old man’s Flame approached in the hallway outside; Tsuna called, “Come in.” Timoteo caught sight of Xanxus on Tsuna’s lap and smiled.

“Shut the fuck up, old man.”

“I had not intended to comment.” Timoteo faced Tsuna, hands clasped behind his back, to report – and wasn’t that a fucking sight to see. “Decimo, I’ve confirmed that the cove is clear of wreckage. What’s left of the boat is secure on a gravel bank under Mist. I recommend stripping anything useful from it, and then sinking it somewhere unobtrusive.”

Tsuna nodded. “That can wait a few days, then.” His phone pinged; he looked at the message and grimaced. “Well, that’s great timing. My father’s on his way from the airport.”

“You finally going to take out the trash, Aniki?” Xanxus scowled.

***

Timoteo was rather enjoying taking directions from his successor; it was a refreshing change. Over and over, Tsuna had shown himself as an able leader; Namimori, the Yunque, the Varia and the household staff. It was high time he brought CEDEF to heel as well.

Tsuna rearranged his office to mirror the meeting where Timoteo had turned over the Famiglia. Four chairs in a square, but this time Timoteo and Xanxus faced each other at Tsuna’s flanks, the seat across from him open for Iemitsu. Reborn lurked by the door, bouncing with anticipation.

Iemitsu sauntered into the room with a slight limp. “Now there’s a warm welcome! No need to worry, Tsuna-fishie, Papa’s here to save the day!”

“We’ve got everything under control, actually. There’s nothing left for you to do.”

Iemitsu guffawed. “But you still have a week left in the Academy, remember?”

Tsuna raised an eyebrow. “Why would you think I was talking about the Academy?”

“It’s my proof,” Iemitsu announced. “Proof that you need Papa’s help to deal with Mafia life.” Timoteo wrinkled his brow at that excuse for logic.

***

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” said Tsuna. “You set up this study-abroad scheme as a situation where I would get in trouble and need your help.”

Iemitsu beamed. “Now my Tsuna-fishie is getting the idea!”

“I don’t know what’s worse. That you would do that to your Don, that you would do that to your child, or that you thought Mafia Academy would be too much for me to handle. That’s an insult to everyone I’ve faced off with in the last few years.” Tsuna took a deep breath. “Sawada-san, you’re fired.”

“What? Impossible! No one is more dedicated to the Famiglia than me.”

How oblivious was he? For heaven’s sake, he was supposed to be a spymaster. Tsuna reached out and plucked the Vongola pin from Iemitsu’s lapel. “There’s a word for people who set up their Boss to fail, Sawada. I’m disappointed in you.” If Tsuna was going to govern the Vongola, he could not allow such behaviour in his ranks.

Iemitsu’s grin turned nervous. “I didn’t – I’m your father, you can’t have me killed.”

“No…” Patricide was marginally less acceptable than letting a traitor live, by Mafia standards. “No, you’re going to live a long life, Sawada-san. Somewhere far away from here. You have until Monday to pack up and get out of Sicily. I don’t recommend Namimori though; I couldn’t guarantee your safety.”

***

Reborn cackled as he cocked his gun. He had a list of grievances for the jackass to pay for, long enough to keep him in pain for many years – maybe even as many as Fluffy-Tsuna had been Sealed. “I’ve been waiting a long time to shoot you in the kneecaps. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Hold up, Matteo-sensei,” said Tsuna.

Iemitsu perked up. “See? I knew you wouldn’t really …”

“If you shoot his legs, he won’t be able to leave.”

“That’s the kind of forethought a Mafia Boss needs.” Reborn adjusted his fedora. “Elbows it is.”

Iemitsu’s Flame flared, ragged and undisciplined. Xanxus raised his in response. “Go ahead, Trash. Make my fucking day.” Reborn wondered if the idiot would still try to fight. But his Will had always focused on avoiding uncomfortable responsibilities, and his Flame was weaker than it had once been. He dashed out the door; Reborn’s chaos shot caught up with him at the grand staircase. He made a satisfying clatter falling down it.

***

Lal reads the notification on her screen. Then she reads it again. Then she closes her email and dials Colonello’s number. “Want to grab a beer? I’m buying.”

***

Salvatore was walking a bit funny when he went down to breakfast, and of course his friends noticed.

“What’s gotten into you, Salvatore?”

“Was someone giving you a hard time last night?”

Cesare waved a stalk of fennel at him. “Do you play for the home team now? What was it like, having a Sky bend you over?”

Salvatore had no regrets. He plucked the fennel from Cesare’s fingers and tucked it in the breast pocket of his jacket. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

***

Ismail still isn’t used to the gilded ballroom that has become a refugee center. Three of his old house would fit in the room; the ‘public’ area they are allowed in includes part of the gardens, the foyer and a whole convenience store. It’s decorated to look like a souk; he digs out the few coins he still has and buys a soda.

There’s a marble fountain just outside the ballroom; a hidden fence keeps guests from wandering farther onto the grounds. Ismail does not intend to try. “Deep thoughts, brother?” Samira settles on the edge of the fountain beside him.

“Do you know, these people have offered me a job?” He waves at the mansion; its owners apparently have interests in construction and could use a builder. “I’m not sure I have the nerve to take it.”

Samira snickers behind her hand. “Does that translator still scare you? Granted, the red eyes are a bit creepy.”

“He’s a killer, I tell you.” And what does that make his fluffy master, who thinks nothing of using an assassin as an interpreter? Ismail isn’t going to rule out Jinn just yet. He still has no explanation for the colored flames he sees everywhere. “I’m not sure how to explain how dangerous these people are – ”

“Oh, please. I did watch The Sopranos , you know.”

Ismail sighs. “You can’t trust TV to be accurate, and besides, that was America.”

“Being dangerous doesn’t make them bad people,” says Samira. “Bad people wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble to help us. And they wouldn’t have a mansion that feels so, welcoming.” Ismail feels it too, even before he gets a look at the exterior walls. He’s seen enough bombed-out buildings to recognise the scars, but the ones here are old, well repaired, and half-covered with ivy.

“You think I should take the job?”

“You should take the offer you have, not hope that something might come along later,” she says practically.

She’s right. Some of their shipmates might travel onwards, but they can take an apartment in the nearby city. Samira with her language skills can find work in tourism, until she decides it’s time to marry, and Ismail will work as a builder for a peculiarly hospitable Mafia family.

***

For once, Reborn walked into the Academy by the front doors. He had brought the whole Cake Appreciation Club along; he only had to flash his Sun ring for the receptionist to let them through. Fluffy-Tsuna rushed to meet them, picked Reborn up and spun him around. “Kyoya didn’t come?”

“I wore him out,” Reborn said smugly. What better way to celebrate after finally getting to shoot Idiotsu?

“No details, please,” said Tsuna, rolling his eyes.

“Nuh-uh, all the details!” said Haru.

“You’re a pervert, Haru.” Tsuna hugged her, Chrome and Kyoko in turn, and nods at Hana. Mukuro, in cat form, wrapped himself around their ankles.

Hayato and Takeshi were at Tsuna’s back as always. “We’re packed and ready to go,” said Takeshi.

“You’ve been ready to leave since we got here, baseball idiot,” replied Hayato.

Tsuna giggled. “There’s one more thing I want to do before we go. Let’s take a walk around the campus.”

They walked in unison, not quite in step; no signals or commands needed, just the harmony of Elements in the same Sky. It gave Reborn a frisson whenever he noticed it. Seeing Timoteo and his circle do this had made the hairs on his neck prickle, but now that he was part of it, it felt natural. Academy students were carefully not staring.

Tsuna brought them to the Academy’s central courtyard, a broad square of grass and trees. Of course that would be Fluffy-Tsuna’s idea of a parting gift. “This one feels about right,” he said, laying a hand on its bark.

“Right for what, Signore?” asked the Academy director, who was tagging along as a token escort.

“You don’t always have a Sky here in person, so …” Tsuna unfurled his Flame, pure and dense, and wove it into the tree. Reborn purred with delight; the Academy director gasped. Tsuna continued, “That should last a year or so. I don’t want to step on the Academy’s neutrality, so I’ll ask some of the Skies I write to if they want to do the same. I know Xanxus, Dino and Yuni will for sure.”

The Director boggled at the thought of a whole grove of Sky trees. “Er, how many other Skies are you writing to, Signore?”

“All of them.” It would show support of the Academy, as well as giving Skies a head start on recruiting promising students. “Thank you for having us, Director. It’s time we went home.”