tya's whimsies

Reborn feels hopeful as he closes the door of the Vongola heir’s room. Sawada Tsunayoshi is pathetic but his Flames have promise. He doesn’t doubt that he’ll be able to make him into a competent Boss if an unwilling one. The boy will learn that he has no choice in the matter. Hopefully, he will make peace with it.

It is now time for Reborn to evaluate his chances of success in regard to his secondary mission. He takes the stairs leading to the attic. The light emanating from the door confirms what he thought; the third resident of the Sawada household is awake.

Sawada Torakichi, Dame-Tsuna’s fraternal twin brother.

A child Sealed before his Flames even went Active.

Reborn’s Sun roils in disgust at the very thought. He remembers the guilt and self-loathing on both Iemitsu and Nonno’s faces when they explained the situation to him. The hitman is pragmatic, he understands what the Ninth’s thought process was. Tsuna and Tora had been threats to his sons at the time of the Sealing, and plenty of people would have Primo’s bloodline ruling over Secondo’s. Especially when said bloodline was composed of easily manipulable civilians. He also understands why Iemitsu didn’t protest; the man was a fool but he understood it was already lucky that Tsuna hadn’t been killed on the spot when he activated his Flames. According to Nonno, they were purer than anything he and his sons had ever managed. That was the worst possible outcome for a child out of the line of succession. Besides, Iemitsu didn’t want his children involved in the Mafia, as was his right.

(And it was his decision to make, even if the hitman privately thought it to be the height of stupidity.)

Reborn understands – as much as he can understand such a thing, being childless himself – but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Torakichi’s fate seems especially cruel to him, considering the consequences of it.

Sealing a child before he went Active had never been done before. It was so unprecedented that the Vindice hadn’t even made a law against it.

Tsuna’s Sealing, however… Sealing a Sky was forbidden. Nonno should be glad the Seal will be gone before the enforcers will have a chance to know of it. Even then, it might not save him.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The consistent sound takes Reborn out of his thoughts. He knocks on the door three times and lets himself fall back. He hears light footsteps, some rustling. Then the door opens. A blond head of hair tied up into a short ponytail peeks at him, curious. Torakichi is as short as his brother and even frailer. Dark eyebags frame amber eyes and a mole adorns his right cheekbone. He’s a pretty boy, Reborn supposes, and he doesn’t make inane expressions like his brother does. As he stands, it looks like a stiff breeze might snap him in half. The hitman’s eyes lock on the trembling hand holding onto the doorframe. Reborn doesn’t have a heart, but if he did he would feel sympathy for the boy.

“Good evening,” he says cautiously.

“Ciaossu. I’m Reborn, your brother’s tutor.”

“Ah. Mama said you were coming today. She said you were sent by otou-san.”

“Exact.”

The boy’s gaze sharpens.

“Then you’re Mafia,” he says in Italian. “I don’t think mafiosos are hired as home tutors. Why are you really here?”

Oh? Interesting.

“Will you let me in? That is a conversation I would rather not have in the corridor.”

Torakichi seems to mull it over but he eventually complies. His cane clacks against the floorboards as he leads Reborn inside his attic room, which is a lot more spacious than Tsuna’s bedroom. Probably due to the boy being homeschooled, but Reborn guesses it is also some sort of apology coming from his father. The man’s boss had crippled his youngest son, he could afford to spoil him a little. He does wonder at the wisdom of having him climb so many stairs, but considering the ensuite bathroom and the empty plates by the door, he guesses that Torakichi isn’t expected to leave his room much. He notices an extensive bookshelf, numerous heated blankets, a kotatsu, calligraphy sets and a dart board. All the arrows reached the bull’s eye, he notes with approval. The boy’s hand-eye coordination was promising. If he succeeded in reversing the Seal without killing him, he would give him a gun and see what he made of it. Or maybe throwing knives, he muses, sitting down on the pillow facing the low table at the centre of the room.

“I was indeed sent by your father to tutor Tsunayoshi,” he explains once they are settled, “but not only in academics. What do you know of your father’s work?” he asks to test the waters.

The boy being aware of the Mafia is one thing. Knowing about the Vongola is another.

“I know otou-san hid guns in the floorboard of his and Mama’s room. He speaks Italian on the phone despite allegedly working as a construction worker in bloody Antarctica and brought an old man to our house when we were six, whom he called Boss or Don the whole time he was there.”

His eyes grow cold then and the hitman knows that the boy made a correlation between the beginning of his affliction and Nonno’s visit even if he doesn’t know the extent of it. Reborn inclines his head in acknowledgement.

“I see. To put it simply, your father and you are the only descendants of the founder of Vongola, the most powerful Mafia Famiglia in Europe. That makes you heirs to that organisation, though there is a mainline who has until now ruled without a problem. The old man you recall is Don Vongola Nonno, the Famiglia’s current Boss and a descendent of Vongola Primo’s successor. He has hired me, an independent contractor, to train your older brother to take up the mantle following the death of his sons.”

Torakichi’s lips twitch.

“Good luck with that.”

“You don’t believe Tsunayoshi could do it?”

“Whether he can or not is up to your skills as a teacher. But you’ll have to hear him screech the whole way there.” He pauses then. “What does that make me? Will you dust me off the shelf if Tsuna gets himself killed too?”

He grimaces, likely realising the way he spoke of his brother was less than flattering, but doesn’t retract his statement. Instead, he stares up at Reborn challengingly. The hitman wonders about the relationship between his two new students.

“No. You see, I am not only here to teach your brother. I have also been instructed to cure you.”

The boy only has time to frown in puzzlement. Leon hops from his shoulder into Reborn’s hand and shifts into a gun with a very helpful silencer. The hitman loads the Dying Will Bullet. He aims. Shoots.

Torakichi crumples to the ground.

For a moment, nothing happens. Reborn waits in tense silence, wondering if he’s killed the boy. He will not be blamed if he has, Nonno’s actions were essentially a drawn-out death sentence for the child.

He has read Sawada Torakichi’s medical file. Severe anaemia, seizures, low body temperature. Trouble walking and days spent in complete paralysis. The only thing that hasn’t been damaged by the premature Seal is the boy’s mental faculties. Despite being eternally homeschooled, the boy is brilliant. Though he is weaker in the science department, he excels at languages, history and literature. Torakichi has the potential to be a great Don, though he will only inherit if Tsuna dies. Nonno was clear on that.

Reborn believes he hopes that the boy he has wronged the least will be more amenable to treat with him. He wonders if that’s true, remembering the dull look on Tsunayoshi’s eyes as he was insulted by one of his professors and the hour he spent hiding from bullies in a school cupboard, both of his knees skinned from when he fell down the stairs. Reborn had scoped out the town quite a bit, and Dame-Tsuna’s reputation was widespread. If Nonno expects absolution, he probably won’t find it in this house.

When the silence starts to become uncomfortable, Torakichi finally rises, bathed in Orange Flames. His Dying Will cry is a mere whisper, one that rattles Reborn more than he’d like to admit.

“Live through another day with my Dying Will,” says the boy before collapsing again.

The hitman tucks him into bed and wipes the sweat from his brow. While the older Sawada twin requires more spartan methods, he thinks he can afford to be gentle with this one. At least until he recovers. A too strong push will have him give up and throw himself off a bridge, he thinks, and while Iemitsu wouldn’t begrudge him that outcome —too aware that it would ultimately be his own fault— Reborn doesn’t kill children as a rule, even by proxy.

He sends his Sun Flames through Torakichi’s body, hoping to alleviate the strain of the abrupt shattering of the Seal. He can see it already; while Tsuna’s Sky Flames will take several shots to be rid of the spiderweb tangling them, an unintended consequence of the clean Seal Nonno used on those hidden Flames is that it is evenly spread. Reborn thinks that another bullet will be enough to call forth the boy’s Sky. It will take him longer to recover from it, though.

“I’ll be back in a week,” he murmurs before leaving the room.

The next few days are hectic. Reborn puts the younger Sawada out of his mind to focus on Tsunayoshi and scopes out the Flame-active community of Namimori in search of potential Guardians for the two boys. For such a backwater city, it is surprisingly full of it. Reborn understands rapidly why the town is under the protection of the Hibari clan; it is a retirement paradise for criminals of all kinds. He will have plenty to choose from, but he worries that Tsunayoshi’s history with his classmates would make it difficult for him to Court anyone at his school. He makes a phone call to Shamal and haggles for the contact of Gokudera Hayato, a promising unaffiliated Storm. (Shamal doesn’t protest too much; he knows how lucky his protege would be to be chosen by a Sky.)

It will either go wonderfully or very badly.

Either way, it will be a good learning opportunity.

Meanwhile, Nana frets over Torakichi whose fever broke after five days. When the boy gets down to breakfast for the first time, he stares at Reborn for a long while before sitting next to his brother. When he reaches for his bowl of rice, his hands don’t shake. Reborn finally gets the opportunity to observe the two brothers interact. Tsunayoshi shows the first hint of a spine since the hitman has set foot into his household by fussing over his younger twin. He doesn’t complain even once about Reborn’s presence and seems to assume Torakichi has been spared from the Mafia due to his illness. The sickly boy accepts the coddling and teases Tsunayoshi over his grades and his crush on Sasagawa before excusing himself and climbing up the stairs to start his schoolwork.

Nana stares at the empty dishes he leaves behind.

“He finished it all,” she mumbles, looking elated. Reborn makes a note to monitor the boy’s appetite. He also sends an explanatory pamphlet about Sealing Dying Will Flames upstairs and follows Tsunayoshi to school.

*

Torakichi has been feeling cold for as long as he can remember.

His earlier memory is of his father’s visit when he was six, marking the start of his ailments. While he resents the man for it, in truth he doesn’t remember a time when he didn’t feel like this. He and Tsuna have learnt very early that they had gotten the short end of the stick in the family department. The Mafia thing is just another layer added to the misery of it. A particularly thick one, admittedly.

Tora hadn’t had the heart to tell Tsuna when he’d crawled down the stairs towards his mother’s bedroom, feeling horrible, and bumped into a badly-closed cache under the floorboards. His head had been fuzzy at the time, but not enough that he hadn’t recognised the guns inside of it. He told his mother though and she’d made a joke about their papa’s toys that made Tora finally understand that Nana was not all there. He would get no help from her.

And then Reborn arrived, with explanations even more confusing than the questions Tora had had.

Dying Will Flames.

He reads the pamphlet over and over, hands clenched on the paper. His fingers don’t shake, but it’s close.

He wants to deny it. It sounds so absurd.

But he can’t.

He remembers the orange fire glowing on the old man’s index. How he had touched Tsuna’s forehead and Tora’s brother had collapsed. How he had felt something surging from within then, ignited by his anger and protectiveness. How that something had been snuffed out of him before it could leave the space behind his ribs where it had been snuggly nestled, hidden from sight.

For the first time since the incident, he has answers.

And they make him angry.

*