Tsuna could have probably noticed the swathes of color on his arms ages ago, but in his defense, things happened all at once and left him with very little time to process.
Still, he has to take the time to admit something’s changed when he sits with Gokudera and Yamamoto to do homework, and the colors on his arm seem to warm and glow with the proximity. (As subtly as he can manage, he tries to spot similar colors on his friends, but maybe they’re just better at hiding it than him. That’s fine.)
When Chrome and Kyoko and Haru visit for breakfast, the bands of warmth travel up his forearm to his upper arm, and he feels like he’s being hugged. He’s caught Chrome’s eye once or twice, and she always flushes red and looks away, but she favors her right side those times, and he wonders if it’d be rude to ask if that’s where the orange sky flames would be. (He assumes it would be, since Reborn gave him a look when he asked.)
Lambo’s is the most obvious, because his little brother’s about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. He’s still a little crybaby, rushing into Tsuna’s room, onto Tsuna’s bed, shrieking about aliens with a curl of orange flames wrapped around his chest. Tsuna feels the prickle of green lightning on his leg, and sighs, and lets Lambo lie in his bed for a while and hopes that, when Lambo gets older, he realizes what this means. He can’t help but feel warm though, that even despite the uncertainty of having Lambo be his guardian, it seems it was the right choice.
Ryohei’s the only one that comes out and asks him what’s going on point-blank, pointing to the band of orange flames wrapped around both of his wrists. Tsuna can’t help but shrug a little helplessly, pointing vaguely to his lower back, where he can feel the warm sun flames easing the knot of tension in his spine. They assure each other that it’s probably a good thing, and they don’t bring it up again.
He knows things have shifted when Hibari and Mukuro both begin avoiding him like the plague, though more than once Tsuna has caught Hibari glaring in his direction before stalking off. The strands of indigo and violet don’t lie, though, twisting around his middle like two creatures fighting for possession.
Reborn thinks it’s the funniest thing that’s happened to them, his smug little smirk speaking volumes.
“You could at least tell me what it means, Reborn,” Tsuna complains, and lets his shoulders sag when Reborn hops on.
It’s surprising, feeling a burst of sun flames that aren’t concentrated in his back, and he casts a sidelong glance at Reborn in askance.
Reborn shrugs, tilting his hat to cover his eyes, just an inch. “You know what it means.”
Tsuna grumbles under his breath, but the warmth in his chest is real enough, so he guesses that Reborn is right, as usual..
He knows this, because he would never willingly choose 8 AM classes, ever. Even if he didn’t have his job to deal with, he still wouldn’t have chosen to take any sort of math so early in the morning.
“Remind me why I need calculus?” He asks to no one in particular, squinting at his schedule as if it would magically rearrange itself if he thought hard enough. It didn’t, but the small flame on his forehead lit up, for all the good that did.
Gokudera glances up from the kitchen table spread out with papers, presumably the others’ schedules. “You need it to balance out your schedule, boss.”
“I’m in the mafia.” Tsuna frowns at his schedule, then up at Gokudera. “We’re in the mafia. Why does the mafia need calculus? Don’t answer that,” he added when Gokudera opened his mouth.
Gokudera sighs, collecting the papers off the table. “At least you won’t be alone, boss. We’ll all be with you.”
A small comfort, yes, but Tsuna couldn’t help but feel....off about that statement. “All?” He asks, squinting suspiciously. “Who exactly is ‘All’?”
“All of us,” Gokudera shrugs. “Well, except for HIbari. And the cow.”
“And me.” If Tsuna hadn’t been expecting it, he would have jumped at Reborn’s sudden entrance. He still can’t contain the strained sound that gets stuck at the back of his throat.
Reborn stares him down, somehow blank and smug at the same time, and begins helping himself to breakfast. “Ciaossu.”
“You’ll be sitting in on the lessons then?” Tsuna asks, resigning himself to the questions from his professor and fellow classmates.
Reborn smirks, sipping his coffee with relish. “If you want to call teaching ‘sitting in on lessons.’”
Tsuna, defeated, lets his head drop on the table and waits for death to take him.
Whenever he did, he felt awkward and stiff, like the clothes were trying to pin him down. As such, he avoided it as much as he could.
He heaved a sigh, tugging on his sky blue shirt, and slowly made his way down a brick road. Jirou trotted at his side, looking at everything with an air of wonder. The poor dog hadn’t been allowed out much since the Shimon incident, and was torn between staying close to his owner and running around to explore.
Kojirou was nestled into his shirt pocket, head poking out. It had been raining earlier that day, and the swallow had sought refuge in the nearest dry place available. It felt weird and tickled a bit, but if Kojirou was happy, then Yamamoto didn’t mind.
The baseball player glanced up absently, watching as rain-laden clouds slowly blew in. He liked the rain, but knew his clothes would get ruined if he got caught in the storm.
He whistled for Jirou and quickened his pace, reaching a tree before a startled Kojirou flew out of his pocket. Concerned, he patted his pocket, feeling the faint vibrations of his cell phone.
“Hello?” There was a loud crash in the background, followed by a snarled curse.
“Y-Yamamoto?”
The boy smiled, listening as a yelp replaced the cursing. “Hey, Tsuna!”
“What are you up to? We missed you today at break--!” Yamamoto blinked as the rest of the sentence was drowned out by a shrill scream. “Sorry…We missed you at breakfast!”
He chuckled, watching Jirou sniff the ground around the tree. “Yeah! I meant to call last night and tell you, but I guess I forgot!”
“Don’t worry about it!” The din on the other side quieted, and Yamamoto figured the other boy had walked to another room. “Are you okay?”
He glanced around, pondering for a second. Was he? He never enjoyed these visits, but at the same time, he knew he would hate himself if he didn’t go through with them. “I’m fine, Tsuna. Just taking care of some things. I’ll see you all for dinner, though!”
“Sounds great! But…You’ll call if something happens, right?” The Rain Guardian was touched. He knew his friends cared for him, but a reassurance now and then never hurt.
“Of course I will!” He laughed, startling Jirou away from the tree. “But, I have to go, okay? I’ll see you!”
“Be careful!”
Yamamoto hung up, smiling faintly, and patted his leg. “Jirou, Kojirou, come on! We’re gonna be late.”
The dog trotted over, the swallow sittings on his head, and together, the three continued on their way.
If Yamamoto remembered correctly, his destination was close to the exit, which was good, because that way he could walk straight home instead of going the long way around. The suit’s collar was digging into his skin, and he loosened the tie irritably.
His footsteps clicked on the stone paths, the sound bouncing between stone slabs, echoing and doubling over on itself. The cloudy, dreary day made everything around him seem washed out and dull, from headstones to the trees and grass. Cemeteries were always depressing, but everything about today seemed hell-bent on making him feel down.
He turned into one of the narrower paths, stopping in front of a tall, narrow grave maker. There was a small tree planted beside it, littering the plot with leaves.
Yamamoto sighed, kneeling down to clear off the debris of the grave. He hadn’t been to his mother’s grave in a while, and a pang of guilt wormed its way into his gut. He’d been busy though, in all honesty. Ever since he met Tsuna and the others, everything had gone by so fast; he barely had time for himself, and even when he did, it was used for training or practicing at the batting cages. A whole year had gone by before he really stopped to look back.
“I’m sorry,” he began, setting his hands on his knees. “I know I’ve been gone, but I’ve been busy…I told you about Tsuna, didn’t I? And about Gokudera and the others?”
Despite having been gone for so long, getting back into the rhythm wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. He talked for the better part of an hour, going on about all of the things that had happened to them so far – all the fights and experiences he had as a Guardian, and all the people he had met along the way.
It felt nice, talking to someone who didn’t know what was going on, who wouldn’t judge or be upset, or not believe him at all. Despite what everyone thought, and what he led them to believe, he knew full well this ‘mafia game’ had stopped being a game ages ago. Sometimes, the pressure to tell someone built up, and he struggled to keep it quiet. So, usually, he would talk to Jirou and Kojirou. Still, it wasn’t an ideal situation.
He didn’t start talking to his mother until after he hurt his arm, and after Tsuna saved him. He had been so messed up during that time, and it was a relief to let it all out. For about a week or so after the accident, Yamamoto visited her grave and talked, letting out all those feelings of anxiety he had, eventually giving way into the adventures he and his new friends were having with their game.
When things started getting more serious, he visited less and less, until he eventually stopped. It was a mistake; he hadn’t realized how much he had gone through, how much he had kept quiet, until that afternoon.
Jirou had fallen asleep, and he had shed his coat and tie by the time he finished his story. The clouds still threatened rain, but through the gaps he could see the sky tinged red. He was going to be late for dinner at this rate.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed at the marker, clearing a few stray leaves that had fallen over the hours he spent talking. “I need to go now. The others are waiting for me, you know?”
She didn’t respond, obviously, but Yamamoto was reassured by the warmth he felt at his back. Rousing Jirou from his sleep, Yamamoto stood, stretching out the kinks in his back. He turned away from the stone, then glanced back over his shoulder. “I’ll come back soon.”
It sounded like a promise in the empty graveyard, and it was one Yamamoto intended to keep this time.
Fic or treat!! Poor Gokudera taking Lambo trick or treating and thinking the adults are UMAs
“I’m only doing this for Decimo, brat.” Gokudera snapped,following the tiny boy through the crowded streets.
Lambo ignored him, skipping ahead of the bomber, candy bagtrailing behind. The kid was already well on his way to a candy high, andGokudera shuddered at the high-pitched cackle the boy let out as he marched upto the next door.
“Give Lambo candy!” The boy shouted, strident over theshouts of ‘trick or treat’. Gokudera scowled, watching the kids clamoring forcandy. He didn’t understand this stupid holiday. Clearly it was a conspiracytheory of some sorts, set out to brainwash the youngest generation intobecoming addicts to high fructose corn syrup.
Actually…
Gokudera frowned, watching the adults cheerfully distributecandy. No normal person would be happy with that, right? And who in their rightmind would wear a costume like that? And why were they giving out candy?
“U.M.As,” he whispered in realization. No rational adult could possibly enjoy thisholiday. It was obviously a trick by U.M.As to control young children to dotheir bidding.
Lambo trotted back to Gokudera, happily unwrapping a purplesucker. “Lambo wants more, Stupidera!”
Gokudera slapped the candy out of the boy’s hand, pickinghim up and running back to Tsuna’s house. He didn’t like the little cow boy,but he’d be damned if he let the U.M.As get him.
UwU Smol Vongola babes being adults and mafioso and just a day in the life of Tsuna, Vongola Decimo
for the future
Characters: Tsunayoshi Sawada
For all that Reborn stressed training and fighting in hisyouth, Tsuna saw very little action as Vongola Decimo.
No, what Tsuna saw on the daily was paperwork. Paperworkthat was quite honestly going to be the death of him before any rival familyknocked him off.
Invoices, damage reports, expense reports, treaties,business proposals, all making a slow circuit across Tsuna’s desk. While notfighting was generally a good thing, the sheer ennui the paperwork produced wasenough to make him want to go a fewrounds with someone.
He wondered if he would have accepted the mantle of VongolaDecimo if he had known the sheer amount of work he would have; he sometimeshoped his younger self would reconsider, if only to spare them the agony.
If he had a day of reprieve from the eternal torment ofpaperwork, it was usually for meetings (in which he would inevitably get morepaperwork) or a crisis that needed his presence. It was a nice change fromusual, but it usually ended in damages that would come out of the Vongolacoffers.
(He was very much not made of money, despite the revenuecoming in. He couldn’t afford to keep footing repair bills for his guardians, no matter what you sa, Hibari, he’s not anATM Lambo, please Mukuro stop causing unnecessary damage what the hell?)
So, more often than not, his guardians could find him at hisdesk, fielding calls and signing off on reports. Returning the Vongola to itsoriginal roots was a long and arduous process, the road paved with invoices andexpenses. Tsuna hoped Giotto approved.
While he complained about the work, Tsuna knew it meantsomething. He was helping things change for the better, one sloppy signature ata time.
A check to an orphanage in Vongola territory, suppliesdonated to area schools that were struggling to make ends meet, donations toclean charities, to businesses willing to improve working conditions. All of itlegal, all of it needing proper approval from the boss.
Then there was the bigger stuff, the things his guardiansand allies handled personally, like the time Gokudera and Ryohei dismantled achild trafficking ring, or Hibari’s personal mission to take out a sizablegroup of drug smugglers operating in his domain. These instances required adelicate touch, a lot of money to grease the wheels, and Tsuna’s blessing. Wasit illegal? Absolutely. But if they could make a difference, it didn’t reallymatter.
Sometimes it got them in trouble. They made their fair shareof enemies, and more than once, Tsuna’s life had literally been in thecrosshairs. But Tsuna kept tabs on every situation, helping financially ifneeded, interfering physically if it came to it.
Slowly but surely, the Vongola were making strides to fixingthe family for the better. Maybe, if he got ambitious, they could even changethe world. For now, though? For now, he settled for signing papers.
