Reborn! fic - Blood of the Covenant (Chapter 1)
( Return to Prologue | Continue to Chapter 2 )
Title - Blood of the Covenant
Rating - PG-13 for language and violence
Characters - Gokudera, Tsuna, Reborn, Yamamoto
Trigger Warnings for this chapter - These contain spoilers, so skip ahead if you want to avoid.
[Spoiler (click to open)]
Summary - When a long-concealed threat reemerges from Gokudera’s past, Tsuna and the Vongola find themselves embroiled in the midst of a violent family conflict, with their Storm Guardian’s future at stake-and possibly his life.
Target 01 - Bad News
The graduation ceremony had gone as smoothly as anyone could have hoped, a fact for which Reborn knew Tsuna would be grateful. He had begged Reborn for days beforehand not to interfere with the event.
Reborn had considered it anyway, of course-the traditional rites were tediously formal, and the idea of spicing things up was tempting. But in the end, he’d refrained. Not for Tsuna’s sake (as always, Reborn felt that his protégé should be ready for anything, and it could have been a great teaching opportunity), but as a favor to Hibari. The head of the discipline committee had also-albeit indirectly-requested that Reborn abstain from any meddling, in order to maintain the school’s discipline on this auspicious day.
Thus, Reborn had behaved himself for the entire morning. And now, as the students exited the auditorium and gathered outside with their friend and family groups in the warm spring air, he had taken up a position near the gates and was observing thoughtfully.
Tsuna himself still had a year to go before his own graduation, of course. The only one of their number to actually graduate today had been Sasagawa Ryohei, who had done so with predictable overenthusiasm. But it was never too early to start making plans for next year’s ceremony, during which he had no intention of standing back quietly, regardless of any pleas or appeals. Tsuna would one day be the head of the Vongola family, after all; it was only fitting to mark his own junior high graduation with the spectacle it deserved.
Of course, as his tutor, Reborn had his work cut out for him over the next year to ensure that Tsuna reached that milestone to begin with. Not just academically-although that was an impending trial the likes of which even he couldn’t ignore-but also in the sense of literally making sure he physically lived long enough to see that day.
Which was the other reason why he had casually stationed himself by the school gates now, patiently waiting for the individual whose presence he had detected a while back to finally make himself known.
When the moment finally came, he had to admit it was satisfying to see even so strong a man as Ganauche III, Lighting Guardian of Vongola IX, practically jump out of his skin, cursing vehemently as Reborn put a gun to his head with a cheerful, “Ciaossu.”
“Shit. I don’t know why I bother,” Ganauche glared as Reborn returned the weapon to its holster.
“It’s what you get for trying to sneak up on me.”
“I wasn’t even trying to sneak, I’m just keeping a low profile. Not that it apparently means anything to you.”
“You’re a long way from home,” Reborn observed.
“Can’t a man pay a visit to watch his future Boss’s graduation?” Ganauche said, with an offhanded glance toward where Tsuna and the others currently stood gathered and oblivious.
“He doesn’t actually graduate until next year.” Though Reborn was quite sure that Ganauche knew this already.
“Right. Graduate middle school.”
Reborn chose to ignore the dry tone in Ganauche’s voice, assuming that the man would get to his point eventually. “Having spent the past two years as his tutor, I assure you it’s more of an accomplishment than it seems.”
“I don’t doubt,” Ganauche replied. He seemed to be momentarily preoccupied with watching Tsuna and the rest of his young group now.
They both observed in silence for the next few moments. Ryohei stood in the center of the bunch, clutching his diploma with fierce pride, a flower pinned to the lapel of his school uniform. The others were grouped around him, passing around various mobile phones and holding them up (though the quality of the selfies they were taking was almost certainly compromised by the general lack of an attention span among most of the individuals present).
“They really are just kids, aren’t they?” Ganauche said finally.
“Were you any different when you got started?”
“Oh, we both know I was much, much worse.”
“Don’t be so confident that you’ve moved on to the past tense,” said Reborn. “But we’re getting off track. You still haven’t said why you’re really here.”
His smirk fading away, Ganauche observed the students for another moment or two. “We have a problem,” he said at last. “Or the makings of one. Gokudera Hayato.”
“What about him?”
“The Ninth had you and the Cavallone test him, didn’t he? I assume he passed, since he’s still breathing.”
“Gokudera’s loyalty is not in doubt,” Reborn replied.
“Just making sure. So there’s absolutely no chance you might have, for instance, felt sorry for the kid? Maybe given him some help? Told a white lie here and there to protect him…?”
Reborn responded with silence, as was appropriate, given the utter ridiculousness of what was being inferred.
“I’m just saying,” Ganauche went on, “no one would have blamed you. They are just kids; it can be easy to get caught up in that.”
Again, Reborn met him with a silent look, though this time he did allow a hint of irritation to show.
Finally Ganauche sighed in exasperation. “God, no response at all. You’re just a wall.”
“And you’re calling my loyalty into question.”
“Okay, geez, I stand corrected. You’re an impeccable man of character as always.”
“Ganauche,” Reborn said, and now he allowed the irritation to reach his voice as well. “Don’t think my obedience to the Ninth and your status as his Guardian will stop me from putting a bullet in your eye.”
“I’d look pretty good with an eyepatch, don’t you think?” But he did look visibly unnerved, much to Reborn’s satisfaction. A moment later, Reborn cocked his gun, and at long last Ganauche gave up any pretense of maintaining his flippant cool composure. “All right, all right, limited patience, reached the end of it; I copy that.”
“So the next words out of your mouth will be you explaining why you’re here,” Reborn pressed with the gun aimed at his forehead.
“Giovanni DiSanto is dead,” Ganauche replied.
There was a heavy pause while Reborn absorbed that information.
“How?”
“Some kind of coup. Apparently he had an illegitimate son that most people didn’t know about. Kid got tired of second-class status and did the old man in. Familiar story.”
An illegitimate son. This was unexpected. Reborn had been prepared for something like this to happen someday, of course, but this was much sooner than even he had ever anticipated.
“Is anyone keeping tabs on Bianchi?” he asked.
“She’s alive,” Ganauche confirmed. “CEDEF’s currently locating her; once they do, they’ll keep her out of harm’s way until we can get this sorted out.”
“Contact Shamal as well.”
“Already on it.”
“Have you intercepted anyone?”
“Not yet; we’ll let you know if we do. I’m sure they’ve sent someone out, though.” Ganauche’s eyes narrowed. “This new guy, Luca, he was extremely thorough. Word is all their top brass are dead. He’s not gonna want anyone left on the outside who has a legitimate claim to that Boss’s seat. Whether they’re part of a different famiglia now or not.”
He crossed his arms and directed one last long glance at the Vongola group. Sasagawa Kyoko was now holding her phone while pressed against her older brother’s shoulder, making a peace sign as both of them grinned. Then at Ryohei’s insistence, Kyoko beckoned over a beet-red Tsuna, and the three of them crowded together as Kyoko’s phone flashed several more times.
Gokudera Hayato was beaming, and seemed to be cheering his Boss on, right up until Tsuna suddenly passed out in an embarrassing heap, too overwhelmed by the sudden up-close proximity to his crush. After rushing to Tsuna’s side to make sure he was okay, Gokudera turned on Ryohei, apparently assigning him the blame. Had Yamamoto not calmly taken hold of him from behind, the matter would almost certainly have escalated into a fist fight right there and then.
“Baby brother will be on their list,” Ganauche said finally. “That is, assuming that you’re right, and this is where his loyalties lie.”
Reborn cocked his gun one more time. “Thank you for your report, Lightning Guardian.”
“I’ll take the hint,” replied Ganauche coolly. “CEDEF has eyes here too, so we’ll keep in touch.”
And with that, he turned and strolled back out the gate.
Reborn waited till he was gone, then tugged the brim of his fedora down with a sigh.
Ganauche’s earlier suggestion had been wrong-Reborn would never put the family at risk just to protect any single individual, whether said individuals were children or not. That said, Ganauche wasn’t entirely off-base when it came to the wider implication.
The truth was, Reborn did care about Tsuna’s Guardians, and he had a fondness for all of them, Gokudera included. It was Reborn’s responsibility to make sure they grew up well alongside Tsuna. They were the future of the family, and though they’d already proven their worthiness on multiple occasions, there were still things he’d intended to shelter them from for as long as possible. And if he was honest with himself, that part of it was just as much for the Guardians’ own sakes as it was for the family’s well-being.
Reborn sighed again. Although he hated to admit it, maybe he was starting to go soft.
---
Gokudera yawned as he exited the store, tugging his apron off and stuffing it messily into his bag. He whipped out his phone and started scrolling through his new texts as he headed down the street.
After the graduation ceremony, they had all gone to Tsuna’s house to celebrate, but Gokudera had left in the afternoon to go to his part-time job. It was late now-going on eleven p.m.-but seeing as they were now on break and would have no school for the next ten days, he was hoping the others would still be there if he stopped by the Tenth’s-no, not Tenth, Neo-Primo-again.
A quick glance at the group chat confirmed that Tsuna and the baseball idiot were in fact still there, and with a grin, he slid the phone back into his pocket.
That was when he realized something was wrong.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he slowed his pace, stifling a curse. Absolutely no one was around. There were streetlights and some vending machines further up ahead, and the lights of the convenience store and a few other businesses a ways back down the street, but this particular stretch of road was quite dark, a fact Gokudera was suddenly acutely aware of.
It wasn’t paranoia. Years of surviving on his own had honed his instincts to the point where he didn’t question when they told him he was being followed.
He forced himself to keep walking, listening intently in those spaces in between his own steps, filtering out everything else, including the sound of his own breathing.
Whoever it was, if they were going to attack him, their best bet would be to do it in the next few seconds, before he cleared the dark stretch of road and reached the intersection at the end of the alley. Wait for it…
There it was-the sound of footsteps not his own.
He whipped around to see a figure lunging at him in the dark, and had just barely enough time to sidestep, lighting a handful of bombs in the blink of an eye. Caught off-guard and off-balance, the figure skidded to a halt and readjusted, but too late. Before he could take another step, the air erupted in light and smoke as Gokudera hit him directly with a Double Bomb attack.
The man crumpled with a groan, and Gokudera fell back defensively, his guard still up just in case the attacker wasn’t truly down for the count just yet.
Then he heard a second pair of footsteps, this time approaching from the opposite end of the alley, and as he whipped back around, a tall figure with a gangly appearance stepped out from the shadows into the blue glow of the streetlights.
“Not bad,” the new, unknown figure said, and Gokudera glared.
“That was nothing. If you’re coming for the Neo Vongola Primo’s right hand man, and all you could bother to send was trash like this, I’m insulted. Who the hell are you?”
“What, you don’t recognize me?” There was a laughing quality in the other man’s voice that somehow set Gokudera even more on edge. “Well, I suppose it has been a long time. Going on, what… six years now, I guess?”
Six years.
Gokudera fought a sudden, involuntary shiver. Six years ago meant there was only one famiglia this man could possibly be associated with, and that thought sent a chill running through his veins.
He took a step closer in spite of the alarm bells going off in the back of his head, needing to see the man’s face more clearly. The man obligingly moved further into the light, and now Gokudera realized that he did recognize those features. A moment later his brain supplied a name to go with them.
“Franco,” he said in shock.
The man-Anthony Franco-grinned widely. “So you do remember. I gotta say, you’ve grown up a lot, Hayato. Last I saw you, you were still a little kid playing the piano.”
Gokudera instantly felt a surge of furious adrenaline at the memory. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Franco’s smile wilted. “Delivering bad news, unfortunately.”
Gokudera frowned.
“Sorry to tell you this,” said Franco, “but your old man passed away.”
It was like a slap to the face.
For a moment, Gokudera just stood there in shock, his mind recoiling from the news, unable to process any kind of reaction whatsoever.
His father. Dead.
His father was dead.
He felt a sudden stinging heat behind his eyes, and blinked it back furiously. No. He didn’t even like his father. Hated him, in fact. Hadn’t seen or spoken to him in seven years, and hadn’t missed him. He should be glad. He shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt.
It did hurt.
It wasn’t fair. Fuck. It wasn’t fucking fair.
He was suddenly aware that Franco was eyeing him with something far too much like sympathy, and with another heated blast of anger he pushed those feelings down, breathing hard, and aware of a wetness on his cheeks but ignoring it because he was not going to be affected by this.
And then Franco said, “Luca’s in charge now,” and suddenly Gokudera forgot all about his confused grief, forgot about everything else except the sudden ice block in the pit of his stomach, as he took an involuntary step back.
Luca.
(What our father did is a sin. Your existence is a sin.)
Luca was in charge of the DiSanto family now.
(Do you want to die like them?)
He was trembling, he realized. He couldn’t help it. It was like his heart rate had suddenly gone into overdrive.
(I want you to go. I want you to run away and never come back. Do you understand?)
He had to get a grip. He was spiraling, he couldn’t do this. He had to get himself under control. Breathe.
“I’m sorry, kid,” said Franco quietly.
Breathe. Just breathe.
“It’s nothing personal.”
Gokudera looked back at him with sudden horrified comprehension dawning.
And then without warning, there was a thick cord around his windpipe, and he was being dragged back, off his feet; he dropped his bombs, fingers instinctively moving to ply at the cable around his neck; but his assailant had double-looped it and no matter how hard he pulled it only seemed to tighten the coil more.
And now there were spots dancing in front of his eyes, and damn it he shouldn’t have let his guard down; he’d fucked up so badly; it hurt so bad and he couldn’t breathe and fuck fuck fuck he was going to die.
And then suddenly there was a bang and the stranglehold grip wringing the garrote around his throat slackened and then released without warning; and Gokudera fell to his knees, half dazed, but there was air, now; he could breathe again, and for a moment all he could do was concentrate on that, until the spots began to clear and he could process thought again.
He glanced weakly behind him to see the would-be assassin lying dead, a fresh bullet wound gaping on the side of his head.
And there, standing in between him and Franco, was Reborn, gun drawn and barrel still smoking, half-illuminated in the soft blue glow of the streetlight. It was honestly one of the coolest things Gokudera had ever seen, and if he’d been in any kind of normal state of mind, he would have been blown away with admiration.
As it was, he was still so shaken that all he could do was stare, one hand still protectively clutching at his throat.
“You’re with the DiSanto family,” said Reborn, calm as ever. He was talking to Franco, Gokudera realized a second later.
“Not here to pick a fight with the Vongola,” Franco said cautiously. He jerked his head once in Gokudera’s direction. “Our only business is with him.”
“Gokudera is part of the Vongola,” said Reborn without hesitation, and Gokudera swallowed thickly.
Franco hesitated. His own gun was drawn, but he had gone stiff the instant Reborn had showed up. Clearly he was weighing his odds, which were not looking in his favor at that particular moment.
A silent dialogue seemed to pass between him and Reborn-that life-or-death language understood only by two people in a standoff-and then Franco shook his head with a short, defeated laugh, and in one swift, sudden movement aimed his pistol at the streetlight and fired.
It took a few seconds for Gokudera’s eyes to adjust to the sudden resulting darkness. When he had, he saw that Franco was gone.
Reborn, however, hadn’t gone after him, but was still standing exactly where he had been a moment ago. Slowly he turned to look back at Gokudera.
And just like that, Gokudera felt his short-lived relief evaporate.
Reborn’s expression was unreadable, but if he was here and he knew about the DiSanto, then Gokudera could only imagine how much else he knew. The Vongola intelligence network being what they were, it was probably everything. He would know exactly how much Gokudera had willfully concealed from the family. From Tsuna.
-Tsuna.
Yet another shiver ran down his spine at the thought. Luca was back, and now he was the new DiSanto Boss. His father was dead. And apparently Luca now wanted him dead too.
And as long as he was with the Vongola, they would be involved in this by default. Tsuna would be involved. Possibly he would be in danger as well.
He looked back at Reborn, horrified.
“Ciaossu, Gokudera. We need to talk,” Reborn said.
Continue to Chapter 2
Return to Prologue
(Note: This fic is about 90% complete right now; my planned update schedule is Tuesdays & Thursdays. Hope you are enjoying so far.)
Title - Blood of the Covenant
Rating - PG-13 for language and violence
Characters - Gokudera, Tsuna, Reborn, Yamamoto
Trigger Warnings for this chapter - These contain spoilers, so skip ahead if you want to avoid.
[Spoiler (click to open)]
- Reiterating my earlier trigger warning for psychological abuse (though there’s nothing too specific as of yet).
- Warning for asphyxiation/strangling.
Summary - When a long-concealed threat reemerges from Gokudera’s past, Tsuna and the Vongola find themselves embroiled in the midst of a violent family conflict, with their Storm Guardian’s future at stake-and possibly his life.
Target 01 - Bad News
The graduation ceremony had gone as smoothly as anyone could have hoped, a fact for which Reborn knew Tsuna would be grateful. He had begged Reborn for days beforehand not to interfere with the event.
Reborn had considered it anyway, of course-the traditional rites were tediously formal, and the idea of spicing things up was tempting. But in the end, he’d refrained. Not for Tsuna’s sake (as always, Reborn felt that his protégé should be ready for anything, and it could have been a great teaching opportunity), but as a favor to Hibari. The head of the discipline committee had also-albeit indirectly-requested that Reborn abstain from any meddling, in order to maintain the school’s discipline on this auspicious day.
Thus, Reborn had behaved himself for the entire morning. And now, as the students exited the auditorium and gathered outside with their friend and family groups in the warm spring air, he had taken up a position near the gates and was observing thoughtfully.
Tsuna himself still had a year to go before his own graduation, of course. The only one of their number to actually graduate today had been Sasagawa Ryohei, who had done so with predictable overenthusiasm. But it was never too early to start making plans for next year’s ceremony, during which he had no intention of standing back quietly, regardless of any pleas or appeals. Tsuna would one day be the head of the Vongola family, after all; it was only fitting to mark his own junior high graduation with the spectacle it deserved.
Of course, as his tutor, Reborn had his work cut out for him over the next year to ensure that Tsuna reached that milestone to begin with. Not just academically-although that was an impending trial the likes of which even he couldn’t ignore-but also in the sense of literally making sure he physically lived long enough to see that day.
Which was the other reason why he had casually stationed himself by the school gates now, patiently waiting for the individual whose presence he had detected a while back to finally make himself known.
When the moment finally came, he had to admit it was satisfying to see even so strong a man as Ganauche III, Lighting Guardian of Vongola IX, practically jump out of his skin, cursing vehemently as Reborn put a gun to his head with a cheerful, “Ciaossu.”
“Shit. I don’t know why I bother,” Ganauche glared as Reborn returned the weapon to its holster.
“It’s what you get for trying to sneak up on me.”
“I wasn’t even trying to sneak, I’m just keeping a low profile. Not that it apparently means anything to you.”
“You’re a long way from home,” Reborn observed.
“Can’t a man pay a visit to watch his future Boss’s graduation?” Ganauche said, with an offhanded glance toward where Tsuna and the others currently stood gathered and oblivious.
“He doesn’t actually graduate until next year.” Though Reborn was quite sure that Ganauche knew this already.
“Right. Graduate middle school.”
Reborn chose to ignore the dry tone in Ganauche’s voice, assuming that the man would get to his point eventually. “Having spent the past two years as his tutor, I assure you it’s more of an accomplishment than it seems.”
“I don’t doubt,” Ganauche replied. He seemed to be momentarily preoccupied with watching Tsuna and the rest of his young group now.
They both observed in silence for the next few moments. Ryohei stood in the center of the bunch, clutching his diploma with fierce pride, a flower pinned to the lapel of his school uniform. The others were grouped around him, passing around various mobile phones and holding them up (though the quality of the selfies they were taking was almost certainly compromised by the general lack of an attention span among most of the individuals present).
“They really are just kids, aren’t they?” Ganauche said finally.
“Were you any different when you got started?”
“Oh, we both know I was much, much worse.”
“Don’t be so confident that you’ve moved on to the past tense,” said Reborn. “But we’re getting off track. You still haven’t said why you’re really here.”
His smirk fading away, Ganauche observed the students for another moment or two. “We have a problem,” he said at last. “Or the makings of one. Gokudera Hayato.”
“What about him?”
“The Ninth had you and the Cavallone test him, didn’t he? I assume he passed, since he’s still breathing.”
“Gokudera’s loyalty is not in doubt,” Reborn replied.
“Just making sure. So there’s absolutely no chance you might have, for instance, felt sorry for the kid? Maybe given him some help? Told a white lie here and there to protect him…?”
Reborn responded with silence, as was appropriate, given the utter ridiculousness of what was being inferred.
“I’m just saying,” Ganauche went on, “no one would have blamed you. They are just kids; it can be easy to get caught up in that.”
Again, Reborn met him with a silent look, though this time he did allow a hint of irritation to show.
Finally Ganauche sighed in exasperation. “God, no response at all. You’re just a wall.”
“And you’re calling my loyalty into question.”
“Okay, geez, I stand corrected. You’re an impeccable man of character as always.”
“Ganauche,” Reborn said, and now he allowed the irritation to reach his voice as well. “Don’t think my obedience to the Ninth and your status as his Guardian will stop me from putting a bullet in your eye.”
“I’d look pretty good with an eyepatch, don’t you think?” But he did look visibly unnerved, much to Reborn’s satisfaction. A moment later, Reborn cocked his gun, and at long last Ganauche gave up any pretense of maintaining his flippant cool composure. “All right, all right, limited patience, reached the end of it; I copy that.”
“So the next words out of your mouth will be you explaining why you’re here,” Reborn pressed with the gun aimed at his forehead.
“Giovanni DiSanto is dead,” Ganauche replied.
There was a heavy pause while Reborn absorbed that information.
“How?”
“Some kind of coup. Apparently he had an illegitimate son that most people didn’t know about. Kid got tired of second-class status and did the old man in. Familiar story.”
An illegitimate son. This was unexpected. Reborn had been prepared for something like this to happen someday, of course, but this was much sooner than even he had ever anticipated.
“Is anyone keeping tabs on Bianchi?” he asked.
“She’s alive,” Ganauche confirmed. “CEDEF’s currently locating her; once they do, they’ll keep her out of harm’s way until we can get this sorted out.”
“Contact Shamal as well.”
“Already on it.”
“Have you intercepted anyone?”
“Not yet; we’ll let you know if we do. I’m sure they’ve sent someone out, though.” Ganauche’s eyes narrowed. “This new guy, Luca, he was extremely thorough. Word is all their top brass are dead. He’s not gonna want anyone left on the outside who has a legitimate claim to that Boss’s seat. Whether they’re part of a different famiglia now or not.”
He crossed his arms and directed one last long glance at the Vongola group. Sasagawa Kyoko was now holding her phone while pressed against her older brother’s shoulder, making a peace sign as both of them grinned. Then at Ryohei’s insistence, Kyoko beckoned over a beet-red Tsuna, and the three of them crowded together as Kyoko’s phone flashed several more times.
Gokudera Hayato was beaming, and seemed to be cheering his Boss on, right up until Tsuna suddenly passed out in an embarrassing heap, too overwhelmed by the sudden up-close proximity to his crush. After rushing to Tsuna’s side to make sure he was okay, Gokudera turned on Ryohei, apparently assigning him the blame. Had Yamamoto not calmly taken hold of him from behind, the matter would almost certainly have escalated into a fist fight right there and then.
“Baby brother will be on their list,” Ganauche said finally. “That is, assuming that you’re right, and this is where his loyalties lie.”
Reborn cocked his gun one more time. “Thank you for your report, Lightning Guardian.”
“I’ll take the hint,” replied Ganauche coolly. “CEDEF has eyes here too, so we’ll keep in touch.”
And with that, he turned and strolled back out the gate.
Reborn waited till he was gone, then tugged the brim of his fedora down with a sigh.
Ganauche’s earlier suggestion had been wrong-Reborn would never put the family at risk just to protect any single individual, whether said individuals were children or not. That said, Ganauche wasn’t entirely off-base when it came to the wider implication.
The truth was, Reborn did care about Tsuna’s Guardians, and he had a fondness for all of them, Gokudera included. It was Reborn’s responsibility to make sure they grew up well alongside Tsuna. They were the future of the family, and though they’d already proven their worthiness on multiple occasions, there were still things he’d intended to shelter them from for as long as possible. And if he was honest with himself, that part of it was just as much for the Guardians’ own sakes as it was for the family’s well-being.
Reborn sighed again. Although he hated to admit it, maybe he was starting to go soft.
---
Gokudera yawned as he exited the store, tugging his apron off and stuffing it messily into his bag. He whipped out his phone and started scrolling through his new texts as he headed down the street.
After the graduation ceremony, they had all gone to Tsuna’s house to celebrate, but Gokudera had left in the afternoon to go to his part-time job. It was late now-going on eleven p.m.-but seeing as they were now on break and would have no school for the next ten days, he was hoping the others would still be there if he stopped by the Tenth’s-no, not Tenth, Neo-Primo-again.
A quick glance at the group chat confirmed that Tsuna and the baseball idiot were in fact still there, and with a grin, he slid the phone back into his pocket.
That was when he realized something was wrong.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he slowed his pace, stifling a curse. Absolutely no one was around. There were streetlights and some vending machines further up ahead, and the lights of the convenience store and a few other businesses a ways back down the street, but this particular stretch of road was quite dark, a fact Gokudera was suddenly acutely aware of.
It wasn’t paranoia. Years of surviving on his own had honed his instincts to the point where he didn’t question when they told him he was being followed.
He forced himself to keep walking, listening intently in those spaces in between his own steps, filtering out everything else, including the sound of his own breathing.
Whoever it was, if they were going to attack him, their best bet would be to do it in the next few seconds, before he cleared the dark stretch of road and reached the intersection at the end of the alley. Wait for it…
There it was-the sound of footsteps not his own.
He whipped around to see a figure lunging at him in the dark, and had just barely enough time to sidestep, lighting a handful of bombs in the blink of an eye. Caught off-guard and off-balance, the figure skidded to a halt and readjusted, but too late. Before he could take another step, the air erupted in light and smoke as Gokudera hit him directly with a Double Bomb attack.
The man crumpled with a groan, and Gokudera fell back defensively, his guard still up just in case the attacker wasn’t truly down for the count just yet.
Then he heard a second pair of footsteps, this time approaching from the opposite end of the alley, and as he whipped back around, a tall figure with a gangly appearance stepped out from the shadows into the blue glow of the streetlights.
“Not bad,” the new, unknown figure said, and Gokudera glared.
“That was nothing. If you’re coming for the Neo Vongola Primo’s right hand man, and all you could bother to send was trash like this, I’m insulted. Who the hell are you?”
“What, you don’t recognize me?” There was a laughing quality in the other man’s voice that somehow set Gokudera even more on edge. “Well, I suppose it has been a long time. Going on, what… six years now, I guess?”
Six years.
Gokudera fought a sudden, involuntary shiver. Six years ago meant there was only one famiglia this man could possibly be associated with, and that thought sent a chill running through his veins.
He took a step closer in spite of the alarm bells going off in the back of his head, needing to see the man’s face more clearly. The man obligingly moved further into the light, and now Gokudera realized that he did recognize those features. A moment later his brain supplied a name to go with them.
“Franco,” he said in shock.
The man-Anthony Franco-grinned widely. “So you do remember. I gotta say, you’ve grown up a lot, Hayato. Last I saw you, you were still a little kid playing the piano.”
Gokudera instantly felt a surge of furious adrenaline at the memory. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Franco’s smile wilted. “Delivering bad news, unfortunately.”
Gokudera frowned.
“Sorry to tell you this,” said Franco, “but your old man passed away.”
It was like a slap to the face.
For a moment, Gokudera just stood there in shock, his mind recoiling from the news, unable to process any kind of reaction whatsoever.
His father. Dead.
His father was dead.
He felt a sudden stinging heat behind his eyes, and blinked it back furiously. No. He didn’t even like his father. Hated him, in fact. Hadn’t seen or spoken to him in seven years, and hadn’t missed him. He should be glad. He shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt.
It did hurt.
It wasn’t fair. Fuck. It wasn’t fucking fair.
He was suddenly aware that Franco was eyeing him with something far too much like sympathy, and with another heated blast of anger he pushed those feelings down, breathing hard, and aware of a wetness on his cheeks but ignoring it because he was not going to be affected by this.
And then Franco said, “Luca’s in charge now,” and suddenly Gokudera forgot all about his confused grief, forgot about everything else except the sudden ice block in the pit of his stomach, as he took an involuntary step back.
Luca.
(What our father did is a sin. Your existence is a sin.)
Luca was in charge of the DiSanto family now.
(Do you want to die like them?)
He was trembling, he realized. He couldn’t help it. It was like his heart rate had suddenly gone into overdrive.
(I want you to go. I want you to run away and never come back. Do you understand?)
He had to get a grip. He was spiraling, he couldn’t do this. He had to get himself under control. Breathe.
“I’m sorry, kid,” said Franco quietly.
Breathe. Just breathe.
“It’s nothing personal.”
Gokudera looked back at him with sudden horrified comprehension dawning.
And then without warning, there was a thick cord around his windpipe, and he was being dragged back, off his feet; he dropped his bombs, fingers instinctively moving to ply at the cable around his neck; but his assailant had double-looped it and no matter how hard he pulled it only seemed to tighten the coil more.
And now there were spots dancing in front of his eyes, and damn it he shouldn’t have let his guard down; he’d fucked up so badly; it hurt so bad and he couldn’t breathe and fuck fuck fuck he was going to die.
And then suddenly there was a bang and the stranglehold grip wringing the garrote around his throat slackened and then released without warning; and Gokudera fell to his knees, half dazed, but there was air, now; he could breathe again, and for a moment all he could do was concentrate on that, until the spots began to clear and he could process thought again.
He glanced weakly behind him to see the would-be assassin lying dead, a fresh bullet wound gaping on the side of his head.
And there, standing in between him and Franco, was Reborn, gun drawn and barrel still smoking, half-illuminated in the soft blue glow of the streetlight. It was honestly one of the coolest things Gokudera had ever seen, and if he’d been in any kind of normal state of mind, he would have been blown away with admiration.
As it was, he was still so shaken that all he could do was stare, one hand still protectively clutching at his throat.
“You’re with the DiSanto family,” said Reborn, calm as ever. He was talking to Franco, Gokudera realized a second later.
“Not here to pick a fight with the Vongola,” Franco said cautiously. He jerked his head once in Gokudera’s direction. “Our only business is with him.”
“Gokudera is part of the Vongola,” said Reborn without hesitation, and Gokudera swallowed thickly.
Franco hesitated. His own gun was drawn, but he had gone stiff the instant Reborn had showed up. Clearly he was weighing his odds, which were not looking in his favor at that particular moment.
A silent dialogue seemed to pass between him and Reborn-that life-or-death language understood only by two people in a standoff-and then Franco shook his head with a short, defeated laugh, and in one swift, sudden movement aimed his pistol at the streetlight and fired.
It took a few seconds for Gokudera’s eyes to adjust to the sudden resulting darkness. When he had, he saw that Franco was gone.
Reborn, however, hadn’t gone after him, but was still standing exactly where he had been a moment ago. Slowly he turned to look back at Gokudera.
And just like that, Gokudera felt his short-lived relief evaporate.
Reborn’s expression was unreadable, but if he was here and he knew about the DiSanto, then Gokudera could only imagine how much else he knew. The Vongola intelligence network being what they were, it was probably everything. He would know exactly how much Gokudera had willfully concealed from the family. From Tsuna.
-Tsuna.
Yet another shiver ran down his spine at the thought. Luca was back, and now he was the new DiSanto Boss. His father was dead. And apparently Luca now wanted him dead too.
And as long as he was with the Vongola, they would be involved in this by default. Tsuna would be involved. Possibly he would be in danger as well.
He looked back at Reborn, horrified.
“Ciaossu, Gokudera. We need to talk,” Reborn said.
Continue to Chapter 2
Return to Prologue
(Note: This fic is about 90% complete right now; my planned update schedule is Tuesdays & Thursdays. Hope you are enjoying so far.)