Reborn! fic - Blood of the Covenant (Chapter 5)
( Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 )
Title - Blood of the Covenant
Rating - PG-13 for language and violence
Characters - Gokudera, Tsuna, Reborn, Yamamoto
Notes - Well, here comes the flashback and the confrontation I’ve been building up to for three weeks, which in hindsight was a very stressful thing to do! But at least after this I can stop worrying about whether it’s too angsty, or not angsty enough, or OOC, or what have you. I’m committed to it now!
…sob.
Warnings for this chapter - These contain spoilers, so skip ahead if you want to avoid.
[Spoiler (click to open)]
Target 05 - Reunion
“It’s been five years since it happened.”
“Since what happened?”
“Since young Master Hayato’s mother died.”
Hayato freezes.
He is eight years old and standing right outside the castle kitchens. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, had just been running down the hallway when he’d accidentally overheard some of the servants talking.
“What?” a woman with short hair is saying. “Master Hayato wasn’t Madam’s child, then?”
“What are you talking about?” another woman replies. “He’s the child the Master had with that young pianist.”
Young pianist. His mother was a young pianist. His mother was not his father’s wife.
His mother is… dead.
He doesn’t know how to respond. But his feet move of their own accord. He turns and sprints down the hall, shoving past another servant on his way.
A young pianist. He remembers, suddenly-he knows who it is.
He’d only ever seen her a few times, back when he was still very young. But he remembers she was beautiful. And kind… always so kind.
And then one day, all of a sudden, she’d just stopped visiting.
His mother. That had been his mother.
He’s stopped running, now. He crouches over in the hall, his hands on his knees, feeling sick all of a sudden. But it’s nothing like when he eats Bianchi’s cookies. This is… different. This is a horrible sinking feeling, like the ground has suddenly dropped out from underneath him. Because in a way, it has, hasn’t it? This whole time, everything he’s thought about his life has all been a lie.
He scrunches his eyes shut, fighting back tears.
This is how Luca finds him, a few minutes later.
“There, there, Hayato,” he says, and Hayato looks up in shock to see him standing there. Watching him.
“It’s all right,” Luca says. “I understand.” And it’s fake, his tone is so fake, but-wait. What is it? What is it that he understands?
“It’s cruel, isn’t it? Servants gossiping so thoughtlessly like that.”
And Hayato’s stomach tightens.
He heard. Luca heard.
He knows.
“And they do it so casually, too,” Luca continues. “It’s just chit-chat to them, isn’t it? Just mindless small talk.” He fixes Hayato with an odd look. “But to you and me, it’s a lot more serious than that. For them, it’s just gossip… but for us, it’s life and death.”
He pauses, almost philosophically, but there’s something sinister about it. “That’s wrong, don’t you think? It isn’t fair.”
Hayato stares at him, not understanding what he’s talking about.
Then, Luca’s expression hardens.
“It ought to be life or death for them too. Don’t you agree?”
And then, before Hayato can comprehend what’s happening, all of a sudden Luca has grabbed him by the shoulder and is forcibly dragging him back down the way he came. Back to the kitchen.
Suddenly Hayato is seized with a sudden, urgent feeling of foreboding. It’s like an overpowering signal from his mind telling his body that he needs to get away, now. Panicked, he grabs Luca’s hand and desperately tries to pry it off his shoulder.
But then something strange and terrifying happens: his body abruptly refuses to listen to him.
And then all of a sudden Luca does let go, but somehow, Hayato is still following him, his feet now moving of their own accord. Not like earlier, when he had panicked and fled from the kitchen. This time, he is actively fighting it, but it’s no use. He is a prisoner in his own body; he can still see and feel everything that is happening, but it’s like he’s not the one in control.
And then, as they approach the kitchen, all of a sudden a horrible, piercing shriek rings through the air, followed by a crashing sound. Luca frowns and looks around, but no one else comes rushing over; it appears that they are the only two within earshot.
And just as Hayato is wondering what had happened to the group of servants that had been here only moments earlier, they reach the entrance to the kitchen, and he sees.
The smooth white tile is covered in red. The walls and countertops as well. Even the potted plant that stands near the doorway.
And, lying in a heap on the floor-the servants.
All dead.
Two of them have been slashed practically to ribbons. The third, the one with the short hair, lies dead as well, but only her throat has been cut. Her lifeless hand is still gripping the hilt of a bloodied kitchen knife.
And as Hayato takes in all of this in horror, he suddenly realizes that there is another person in the room, someone else who’s still alive, besides for him and Luca. It’s the woman he brushed past in the hallway earlier. She stands frozen in shock, surrounded by broken bits of plates. Dimly, he remembers that she had been holding a stack of dishes when he’d elbowed his way past her earlier. That must have been the crashing sound they’d heard.
“M-Master Hayato…” she says as she takes note of his presence. Then she sees Luca, and her eyes widen. “It’s you…!”
“Me,” Luca responds, evenly.
The woman’s eyes widen even more, as though she suddenly realizes that she’s committed a faux pas. “T-that is to say… I don’t understand… they… they’re all dead…!”
“I know,” Luca says. “I killed them.”
She stares at him in fear and disbelief.
“You… but… why?”
“They upset my little brother,” Luca says.
And even in the shock of the moment, and even at his young age, Hayato is smart enough that a part of him, upon hearing this, immediately begins to put two and two together.
The servant girl, meanwhile, falls to her knees tearfully. “P… please,” she says, and then she starts to sob. And at this, Luca’s eyes narrow.
“Stop,” he orders her, and-instantly-she does.
Luca’s eyes fall on something directly behind the young woman, and a moment later, Hayato realizes. The knife.
And as he watches in horror, the terrified girl reaches out a trembling hand and takes hold of the weapon-blade first. Then, seemingly disregarding the fact that her own hand is now bleeding, she lifts the edge up to her own throat.
Hayato has a terrible premonition. “Wait! What are you doing?” he cries out.
“It’s no use,” Luca says beside him. “She’s no longer in control. There’s no fighting against the Command.”
And suddenly everything falls into place in Hayato’s mind, all at once. Luca had called him “little brother.” And now this. This ability… the Consummate Command. It’s the same famed ability that Hayato’s father possesses.
The same ability their father possesses.
And even as he comes to this realization, he’s frozen in place by his own fear, and all he can do is watch as the girl, her eyes still wide and pleading as tears run silently down her face, presses the blade against her neck.
And in one quick, brutal instant, she slits her own throat, right before his eyes.
Something warm and wet splatters on his front, and somewhere in the background, a dim, quietly processing corner of his mind registers it as blood. He’s barely aware of it. His mind is trying to shut down on him. He never realized it was possible to be scared like this. To such an overpowering degree that it takes over everything else, wrenches all other functions to a halt.
He can’t move. Can’t scream. He’s sick to his stomach again, and trembling uncontrollably. And all he can think is, he’s next. The woman is dead. They’re all dead, and Luca is just…
Luca is just standing there, admiring his handiwork.
Hayato feels like he can’t breathe.
“So finally you know,” Luca says quietly. “Finally you understand. You’re no different from me, Hayato. I was Father’s illegitimate son too.”
He’s going to kill him. Luca is going to kill him now. He’s going to die.
“Do you know about the Mafia Ten Commandments, Hayato?” Luca asks suddenly. Hayato stares at him in silent fear, so Luca continues, reciting. “‘Never look at the wives of friends. Wives must be treated with respect. People who can’t be part of Cosa Nostra: anyone with a two-timing relative in the family.’”
He looks at Hayato coldly. “Do you get it, Hayato? What our father did is a sin. Your existence is a sin. That’s why they’ve kept it secret all these years.”
He leans down to Hayato’s eye level. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? You shouldn’t exist. So now… what will you do?”
Hayato stares back. He’s still trembling. Finally, he says in a small voice: “Please… I… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Just… please…”
He doesn’t want to die. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen. He shouldn’t have been playing in the hallway. He wishes the servants hadn’t been talking. He wishes he had never heard them.
He wonders if that makes it his fault they’re dead.
Luca is his brother. Luca is his half-brother. So… maybe… just maybe, if he pleads… he’ll let him live.
But Luca is shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s good enough.” He pauses, rising to a standing position once again, towering over Hayato. And for a terrifying second, Hayato is sure that this is it.
And then Luca says: “I think you should leave.”
Hayato stares at him, breathing fast.
“You don’t belong in this family,” Luca says. “You’re just like me.”
Then his face goes dark. “Only Father never took me in like he did with you,” he says, his words dripping with resentment. “He never lied to everyone, pretending that I was his full-blood son. Just cast me out, and treated me and my mom like dirt. Then he felt sorry about it, years later, after she died, and he brought me back. Into the family, but never into his family. I’m too shameful.”
He looks at Hayato with undisguised contempt. “But you, for some reason… you got to be a normal, happy little kid. Don’t you think that’s messed up?”
Hayato tries to stammer some kind of reply, but Luca cuts him off with sudden viciousness, and he flinches: “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything from you.”
He leans back over again, brings his face in close, so that they are barely inches apart. Then, with a sweeping gesture of his hand, indicating the dead servants all around them, he asks: “Do you want to die like them?”
Hayato feels tears spilling down his face. He shakes his head ‘no.’ “Please…”
“I want you to go,” Luca says quietly, intensely. “I want you to run away and never come back. Do you understand?”
The look in his eye leaves no room for doubt.
Fighting back sobs, Hayato nods wordlessly.
“And if you ever try to contact Father, or anyone from the family, or tell anyone what I did here, I will kill you. Do you understand that?”
Hayato nods again.
“You’re illegitimate, Hayato. Your father killed your mother because you were never supposed to exist. Remember that.”
And he does.
He leaves the castle the next day. His sister almost stops him, begs him to stay, but he doesn’t look back. And he tries his best to make a new life.
But he remembers. Because every day, someone is there to remind him that what Luca said is true. Nobody wants him. He is shameful. He is unwelcome. He’s no good. He shouldn’t exist.
He gradually becomes defiant, desperate to prove that they are wrong. And eventually, he meets Tsuna. And from that point on, everything changes.
And when he thinks about Luca, about his past, he reminds himself that there are people now who will look past it, who care not about his blood or his usefulness, but about him, himself. He reminds himself that to them, he is already worthy.
And it lifts him up, and he is stronger now, because of them. He’s no longer just a little boy whose place in the world has been upended.
And he tries to let those feelings fill him; that sense of belonging; of being needed, wanted, at long last.
And most of the time, it works, and it’s enough.
But there’s a part of him, always, buried and shoved deep down inside. And cloistered there are all his fears and doubts, all huddled up and hiding. And that part of him is still eight years old, and shivering and stammering and pleading for his life. And no matter what he does, he can’t make it disappear.
And always, that part of him still remembers.
---
“Hello, Hayato.”
Gokudera stared as his brother emerged from the murky gloom of the alley.
His first thought was that even after so many years, his appearance had not changed much. He did look older, certainly, and perhaps a little taller. The last time Gokudera had seen him, Luca had still been a teenager, only a few years older than Gokudera currently was himself. Now that he had reached full adulthood, he had filled out and had a somewhat less lean and wiry look.
He wore a suit and tie; the collar was done up neatly, though his suit jacket hung open. His hair was still the same, long dark bangs falling neatly around hazel eyes. Those eyes, strangely, were not as cold as Gokudera remembered; but then again, his last encounter with Luca had been under uniquely sanguinary circumstances. Not such a surprise, then, that he would appear calmer now.
Nonetheless, Gokudera still felt his own pulse racing, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. This was Luca, and Luca was always dangerous.
Immediately he started formulating a plan, making calculations and taking in the environment around them. Luca, meanwhile, was staring him down in return, looking strangely reflective.
“It’s strange,” he said to Gokudera at last. “The older you get, the less you look like our father.”
At the mention of their father, Gokudera felt a sudden flash of anger. It felt like he’d only just started the process of accepting the fact that maybe, just maybe, his father had not been the coldly calculating murderer he’d thought he was for more than half a decade. That maybe his father really had loved his mother after all, doomed though that relationship might have been.
And he’d just been starting to think that maybe one day there might be a possibility of all of those complicated feelings finally being reconciled. That maybe, someday, he could give the man another chance, as undeserved as it was.
And then Franco had come along with the news of his death, and just like that, all of those little hopes had been snuffed out.
He was gone. There would be no reconciling with him, ever. There would be no anything with him, ever again, because he was dead.
And this man who now stood before him… this man…
“…Did you kill him?” Gokudera asked, because even though he already knew the answer, a part of him still needed to hear it from Luca’s own lips. To hear him admit to it.
“Does that really make you so upset?” was all Luca said in response.
It did. And he hated it. A part of him seethed, and another part was grieving, and still another part was outraged and indignant at the fact that he could let such a thing get to him at all. But yes, it did.
And it wasn’t fair. Because he had listened.
“I did what you wanted,” he said. “I ran away. I never contacted anyone. I was alone for years, because of you.” Something was stirring up inside of him, something scared but defiant, and needing to finally escape. “And I finally have my own family now,” he said. “I don’t want anything to do with you, so just… just leave me alone.” And he had wanted, had meant for it to come out as assertive, threatening, but instead even to his ears it sounded more like a plea.
The old Luca would have pounced on it immediately. And yet… something about him was different now. It took him by surprise, and left him wary and on guard. The last time he’d seen him, Luca had been cold and bitter, filled with barely-suppressed rage. Now, however, he was simply observing Gokudera quietly.
“Leave you alone,” he repeated. “…I suppose that’s fair. It has been six years since we’ve seen each other, after all. You have no reason to expect things would have changed. But they have changed, Hayato.”
Gokudera felt a storm of emotions slowly starting to brew inside him. Luca had no right to be so calm, so coolly rational, as though the past six years had never happened. As though it was fine for him to come stampeding back into Gokudera’s life again after all this time, after everything he’d put him through, and then to stand there serenely acting as though he’d never done anything wrong.
“Nothing’s fucking changed,” he said fiercely. “You’re still an asshole just trying to make other people’s lives miserable.”
He wanted him to own it. He wanted him to try to scare and intimidate him again, like he’d done so many times in the past. Let him try. Let him see exactly how things had changed. Let him see that he was no longer just a stupid, weak child.
He was still frightened of what Luca could do, yes. But it wasn’t just fear that had been steadily building up in him for all those years. It was anger, too; a deep, powerful, almost choking animosity that surprised him even now with the way it burned and clawed at him, demanding to finally be given a voice.
In his memories from six years ago, a savage, cold-blooded, calculating and manipulative figure lurked, filled with a vindictive furor and a desire to hurt, and entirely lacking any kind of remorse.
That was the Luca he knew. The Luca he knew would have revealed his temper by now. He certainly would not be standing there, quietly, with a look of what almost-almost-seemed like genuine contrition.
This was not the man Gokudera had come prepared to face. And it was confusing, and upsetting in an entirely different way.
“I made yours miserable,” Luca acknowledged. “I know. And I’m sorry. But you and I, we’re the same. Don’t you understand that now?”
“I’m nothing like you,” Gokudera said hotly.
“You are, more than you know,” Luca insisted. His voice grew more urgent. “We’ve been through the same hardships now. The same bullshit. Living in a world that doesn’t want us. How many families did you go to, after you left? Looking for someone who’d give you a chance, who would take you in. And how many of them actually did?”
“The Vongola did,” Gokudera said. His fist, tightly clenched, was shaking slightly.
For the first time since they’d started talking, a look of irritation swept briefly over Luca’s face. “The Vongola. Sawada Tsunayoshi. …Maybe he is different from the rest of them; I don’t know. But I doubt it. He’ll grow up, eventually, and turn his back on anyone lower than him. That’s the way it’s always been.”
“You’re wrong.”
Luca fixed him with an intent look. “Even if he did let you stay… you don’t belong with the Vongola, Hayato. I know you want to be his right hand. But Consigliere is an outsider position. You’ll never have any real power there.”
He was drawing in closer now, and Gokudera took a step back. As he did so, he let his fingers drop down to a pouch attached to his belt.
Very cautiously, taking great care to make sure Luca didn’t notice, he got to work, all the while never moving his gaze away from his brother’s.
“You are the son of a Boss,” Luca was saying, and there was a growing intensity in his eyes as he continued. “You’re not just some follower. They want you to think that’s all you ever could be, because of your birth, but they’re wrong.”
He took another step closer.
And then, to Gokudera’s utter shock, he stopped, and looked at him imploringly.
“Come back to our family. I’ll make you my second-in-command. You’ll be my successor.”
And for a moment all Gokudera could do was stare.
Out of all the things he’d been prepared for, out of all the possibilities he had considered… this one hadn’t even been on the table.
“…What the fuck,” he said.
“Just consider it,” Luca urged.
But there was no considering it; it was out of the question. And now the anger was back-a complete, sputtering outrage at the very notion that Luca, after everything he had done, could ever even think about making such an offer.
“You tried to have me killed a few days ago,” he said incredulously. “And now you expect me to believe you want me to come be a part of your stupid family? After you murdered our father and ran me out?”
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. It was beyond outrageous; it was almost profane.
“Hayato-” Luca began, but Gokudera cut him off. A trembling, jittering fury had taken hold of him.
“Fuck you. I already have a family.”
And with that, he pressed the ignition switch on the rear of his belt, setting off the bomb trap that he had covertly laid out, and an instant later there was a deafening boom as the alley erupted in dust and smoke.
---
Yamamoto was currently experiencing a moment of déjà vu.
Only that wasn’t quite the word for it. But it was something similar. Was there, in fact, a word for experiencing something that hadn’t actually happened to you yet, but which you had known someday would happen?
If so, then. Whatever that was-he was that.
Six months ago, he, Tsuna, Gokudera, and the others had traveled to the future to take down Byakuran and the Millefiore family. Yamamoto had never actually met his future self-he was pretty sure that was impossible, and even if it wasn’t, he supposed it was the type of thing that would probably create some sort of universe-ending paradox-but he wasn’t immune to curiosity, and while he was there, he had managed to see a few pictures. And so he knew from those pictures that his future self, the ten-years-older Yamamoto Takeshi, had a scar on the right side of his chin.
And it was a mystery as to how he’d gotten it, of course, and of course no one from the future had actually been willing to tell him. He’d asked Lal Mirch and the ten-years-older Ryohei about it once, to no avail. So he’d been left to speculate on his own.
He maintained that he had gotten it doing something cool and awesome. Gokudera contended that he must have been doing something dumb, “like running into a stop sign or something.” (Tsuna thought they were both nuts for dwelling on such a morbid concept to begin with, and insisted on being left out of it.)
As it turned out, both he and Gokudera had been right, in a way.
To be fair, he hadn’t been completely holding back. Early Summer Rain wasn’t the peak of his arsenal, true, but it was an effective surprise attack, and more importantly, one capable of ending a fight quickly.
And okay, it was also true that he had been using the back of his sword, but he always did. And maybe he had been a little distracted, and focused on ending the fight as quickly as possible, so that he could catch up with Tsuna and the rest.
And maybe he had underestimated Bella just a little bit.
Because he had predicted that she would try to dodge the attack. That was why he’d chosen this particular form. When executed properly, even the most experienced sword fighter was caught off guard, anticipating an upward strike, but not expecting the attacker to suddenly switch out the hand that was holding the sword.
But somehow, she had seen through it in an instant. And not just dodged the blow, but countered, suddenly transferring her own sword to her other hand, grasping the hilt with an underhand reverse grip.
And then, with a single flick of her wrist, she’d executed a strike so fast it had nearly been invisible. So fast, in fact, that it had come within millimeters of taking Yamamoto’s head clean off. It would have done just that, had Yamamoto not been able to synchronize his movements with her own in the nick of time, executing the Shigure Souen Ryu’s fourth defensive form: May Wind, October Rain.
As it was, since he’d been foolish enough to enter the fight without activating his full Vongola Gear, his speed had been less than optimal. He’d only been using the one sword, and thus had lacked the propulsion abilities of his activated box weapon. And as a result, just as he’d tilted his head back out of the way, he’d felt the tip of a steel blade nicking upward, grazing his chin.
And just like that, the mystery of how he’d received the infamous scar was a thing of the past.
He could have laughed, had he not been so busy kicking himself.
“Heh,” he said. “Looks like I played that all wrong.”
Bella made a noise in response, sounding both disdainful and-possibly-disappointed.
“I can see your will, Yamamoto Takeshi,” she said. “You lack killing intent.”
“Maybe,” he agreed.
“Did you come here to play? Or to fight?”
“Heh. Calling me out, huh?” He grinned. Blood was sluggishly dribbling from the wound on his chin. “Well then, in that case…”
He took a deep breath, allowed the tranquility of the Rain element to flow over him.
And then, with one fierce, concentrated burst of determination:
“Cambio Forma.”
---
Tsuna was getting frustrated.
It was less of a fight, he thought with dissatisfaction, and more of a fruitless chase. He felt like a toy mallet being ineffectively wielded by a child playing a game of Whac-A-Mole.
“Free tip, Vongola,” said Anthony from his latest perch on the side of the dome. “If you want to win this fight, at some point you might actually want to try landing a hit on me.”
Tsuna didn’t respond. The other man was baiting him, but the exasperating part was that no matter how hard how tried, Anthony really was easily able to evade even his ranged attacks. In particular, he had tried at several points to use the gravity manipulation ability of his Oath flame, but Anthony had managed to avoid those hits as well.
With a burst of impulse, he launched himself toward Anthony again, intending to dive around behind him this time, hoping to somehow encircle him in an X-Stream attack so that he would have no room to escape. Once again, however, the other man was too quick for him, speeding out of the way before Tsuna could come about and continue the attack.
Enough of this, Tsuna decided. If his opponent was just going to dodge and not actually engage, there was no point in continuing to go after him. Especially not when he knew the others were in trouble.
Abruptly, he did an about-face and moved to blast off back in the direction they had come from. But just before he could do so, a bullet came flying at him, forcing him to dodge.
As he turned in surprise, he saw Anthony, now holding a smoking pistol in his hand and looking strangely ill at ease.
“Sorry, kid. I can’t let you do that. I only have one job in this whole thing, you see.”
“To keep me occupied,” Tsuna finished for him after a moment’s pause.
“Right. See, I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re pretty damn dangerous.”
Tsuna fixed him with an icy look. “If you want me to leave your people alone, stay away from mine.”
Anthony scratched awkwardly at his neck with his free hand. “Thing is, that’s not actually up to me.”
“…Your Boss, then,” said Tsuna, putting two and two together. “So in that case, all I have to do is find him.”
“Ah-I’d think twice about that if I were you,” Anthony called as he turned to leave again. Tsuna glanced back at him over his shoulder. “You do know about his ability, right?”
“The Consummate Command.”
“Not something you want to mess with,” said Anthony, with surprising candor. “Take it from me.”
“I’m not afraid,” Tsuna replied. “I’ve faced stronger opponents than him before. But I won’t let him hurt my friends.”
“He’s not going to hurt Hayato,” Anthony said.
Tsuna looked at him sharply. All of the earlier flippancy had disappeared from the other man’s face. He looked fully serious, and although Tsuna still didn’t trust him, he didn’t detect any sign of duplicity there either.
“But he will hurt you,” Anthony continued, “if you go after him. And believe it or not, that’s not something either of us wants.”
“Somehow, I can’t picture you being too concerned,” Tsuna said skeptically.
“It’s not you he’s concerned about,” another, familiar voice cut in. “It’s the rest of the DiSanto family.”
Both Tsuna and Anthony’s heads immediately snapped in the direction of the new presence. There, perched on one of the merlons a dozen or so feet away, stood Reborn.
Tsuna’s heart suddenly lifted; Anthony, on the other hand, sucked in a sharp breath.
“Isn’t that right, Franco?” Reborn said.
Slowly, the corner of Anthony’s lip turned up in a decidedly humorless smile.
“…I literally sent one hundred men after you.”
“It was a refreshing warm-up,” Reborn replied.
Anthony glanced down, shaking his head. “They all dead?” he said quietly.
“Not quite,” Reborn said. “Maybe wishing they were right about now, though.”
Anthony directed a bewildered expression toward Reborn for a moment, before slowly setting back into another smile. He had a look that Tsuna recognized. It was the look of someone knowingly about to go in over their head, but prepared to do so anyway.
“…Well, this sucks,” he said.
“You can always surrender,” Reborn suggested.
“Probably should, huh? Ah, well.”
Tsuna and Reborn exchanged glances. Reborn nodded, and held up his gun.
Tsuna prepared to fight.
---
Continue to Chapter 6
( Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 )
Additional Notes - So originally I had intended to wrap up all three fight scenes in one chapter. But then said chapter ended up being close to ten thousand words, so! I ended up having to split it.
Apologies for the abrupt cliffhanger. Also, we are pretty close to the halfway point of the fic.
Title - Blood of the Covenant
Rating - PG-13 for language and violence
Characters - Gokudera, Tsuna, Reborn, Yamamoto
Notes - Well, here comes the flashback and the confrontation I’ve been building up to for three weeks, which in hindsight was a very stressful thing to do! But at least after this I can stop worrying about whether it’s too angsty, or not angsty enough, or OOC, or what have you. I’m committed to it now!
…sob.
Warnings for this chapter - These contain spoilers, so skip ahead if you want to avoid.
[Spoiler (click to open)]
- Once again reiterating that warning for psychological abuse. We’re talking mind games, guilt trips, death threats, blows to self-esteem and self-worth; the works.
- Warning for graphic violence. Like bloody, murder-y type stuff, including one particularly gruesome event witnessed up close and personal.
Target 05 - Reunion
“It’s been five years since it happened.”
“Since what happened?”
“Since young Master Hayato’s mother died.”
Hayato freezes.
He is eight years old and standing right outside the castle kitchens. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, had just been running down the hallway when he’d accidentally overheard some of the servants talking.
“What?” a woman with short hair is saying. “Master Hayato wasn’t Madam’s child, then?”
“What are you talking about?” another woman replies. “He’s the child the Master had with that young pianist.”
Young pianist. His mother was a young pianist. His mother was not his father’s wife.
His mother is… dead.
He doesn’t know how to respond. But his feet move of their own accord. He turns and sprints down the hall, shoving past another servant on his way.
A young pianist. He remembers, suddenly-he knows who it is.
He’d only ever seen her a few times, back when he was still very young. But he remembers she was beautiful. And kind… always so kind.
And then one day, all of a sudden, she’d just stopped visiting.
His mother. That had been his mother.
He’s stopped running, now. He crouches over in the hall, his hands on his knees, feeling sick all of a sudden. But it’s nothing like when he eats Bianchi’s cookies. This is… different. This is a horrible sinking feeling, like the ground has suddenly dropped out from underneath him. Because in a way, it has, hasn’t it? This whole time, everything he’s thought about his life has all been a lie.
He scrunches his eyes shut, fighting back tears.
This is how Luca finds him, a few minutes later.
“There, there, Hayato,” he says, and Hayato looks up in shock to see him standing there. Watching him.
“It’s all right,” Luca says. “I understand.” And it’s fake, his tone is so fake, but-wait. What is it? What is it that he understands?
“It’s cruel, isn’t it? Servants gossiping so thoughtlessly like that.”
And Hayato’s stomach tightens.
He heard. Luca heard.
He knows.
“And they do it so casually, too,” Luca continues. “It’s just chit-chat to them, isn’t it? Just mindless small talk.” He fixes Hayato with an odd look. “But to you and me, it’s a lot more serious than that. For them, it’s just gossip… but for us, it’s life and death.”
He pauses, almost philosophically, but there’s something sinister about it. “That’s wrong, don’t you think? It isn’t fair.”
Hayato stares at him, not understanding what he’s talking about.
Then, Luca’s expression hardens.
“It ought to be life or death for them too. Don’t you agree?”
And then, before Hayato can comprehend what’s happening, all of a sudden Luca has grabbed him by the shoulder and is forcibly dragging him back down the way he came. Back to the kitchen.
Suddenly Hayato is seized with a sudden, urgent feeling of foreboding. It’s like an overpowering signal from his mind telling his body that he needs to get away, now. Panicked, he grabs Luca’s hand and desperately tries to pry it off his shoulder.
But then something strange and terrifying happens: his body abruptly refuses to listen to him.
And then all of a sudden Luca does let go, but somehow, Hayato is still following him, his feet now moving of their own accord. Not like earlier, when he had panicked and fled from the kitchen. This time, he is actively fighting it, but it’s no use. He is a prisoner in his own body; he can still see and feel everything that is happening, but it’s like he’s not the one in control.
And then, as they approach the kitchen, all of a sudden a horrible, piercing shriek rings through the air, followed by a crashing sound. Luca frowns and looks around, but no one else comes rushing over; it appears that they are the only two within earshot.
And just as Hayato is wondering what had happened to the group of servants that had been here only moments earlier, they reach the entrance to the kitchen, and he sees.
The smooth white tile is covered in red. The walls and countertops as well. Even the potted plant that stands near the doorway.
And, lying in a heap on the floor-the servants.
All dead.
Two of them have been slashed practically to ribbons. The third, the one with the short hair, lies dead as well, but only her throat has been cut. Her lifeless hand is still gripping the hilt of a bloodied kitchen knife.
And as Hayato takes in all of this in horror, he suddenly realizes that there is another person in the room, someone else who’s still alive, besides for him and Luca. It’s the woman he brushed past in the hallway earlier. She stands frozen in shock, surrounded by broken bits of plates. Dimly, he remembers that she had been holding a stack of dishes when he’d elbowed his way past her earlier. That must have been the crashing sound they’d heard.
“M-Master Hayato…” she says as she takes note of his presence. Then she sees Luca, and her eyes widen. “It’s you…!”
“Me,” Luca responds, evenly.
The woman’s eyes widen even more, as though she suddenly realizes that she’s committed a faux pas. “T-that is to say… I don’t understand… they… they’re all dead…!”
“I know,” Luca says. “I killed them.”
She stares at him in fear and disbelief.
“You… but… why?”
“They upset my little brother,” Luca says.
And even in the shock of the moment, and even at his young age, Hayato is smart enough that a part of him, upon hearing this, immediately begins to put two and two together.
The servant girl, meanwhile, falls to her knees tearfully. “P… please,” she says, and then she starts to sob. And at this, Luca’s eyes narrow.
“Stop,” he orders her, and-instantly-she does.
Luca’s eyes fall on something directly behind the young woman, and a moment later, Hayato realizes. The knife.
And as he watches in horror, the terrified girl reaches out a trembling hand and takes hold of the weapon-blade first. Then, seemingly disregarding the fact that her own hand is now bleeding, she lifts the edge up to her own throat.
Hayato has a terrible premonition. “Wait! What are you doing?” he cries out.
“It’s no use,” Luca says beside him. “She’s no longer in control. There’s no fighting against the Command.”
And suddenly everything falls into place in Hayato’s mind, all at once. Luca had called him “little brother.” And now this. This ability… the Consummate Command. It’s the same famed ability that Hayato’s father possesses.
The same ability their father possesses.
And even as he comes to this realization, he’s frozen in place by his own fear, and all he can do is watch as the girl, her eyes still wide and pleading as tears run silently down her face, presses the blade against her neck.
And in one quick, brutal instant, she slits her own throat, right before his eyes.
Something warm and wet splatters on his front, and somewhere in the background, a dim, quietly processing corner of his mind registers it as blood. He’s barely aware of it. His mind is trying to shut down on him. He never realized it was possible to be scared like this. To such an overpowering degree that it takes over everything else, wrenches all other functions to a halt.
He can’t move. Can’t scream. He’s sick to his stomach again, and trembling uncontrollably. And all he can think is, he’s next. The woman is dead. They’re all dead, and Luca is just…
Luca is just standing there, admiring his handiwork.
Hayato feels like he can’t breathe.
“So finally you know,” Luca says quietly. “Finally you understand. You’re no different from me, Hayato. I was Father’s illegitimate son too.”
He’s going to kill him. Luca is going to kill him now. He’s going to die.
“Do you know about the Mafia Ten Commandments, Hayato?” Luca asks suddenly. Hayato stares at him in silent fear, so Luca continues, reciting. “‘Never look at the wives of friends. Wives must be treated with respect. People who can’t be part of Cosa Nostra: anyone with a two-timing relative in the family.’”
He looks at Hayato coldly. “Do you get it, Hayato? What our father did is a sin. Your existence is a sin. That’s why they’ve kept it secret all these years.”
He leans down to Hayato’s eye level. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? You shouldn’t exist. So now… what will you do?”
Hayato stares back. He’s still trembling. Finally, he says in a small voice: “Please… I… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Just… please…”
He doesn’t want to die. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen. He shouldn’t have been playing in the hallway. He wishes the servants hadn’t been talking. He wishes he had never heard them.
He wonders if that makes it his fault they’re dead.
Luca is his brother. Luca is his half-brother. So… maybe… just maybe, if he pleads… he’ll let him live.
But Luca is shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s good enough.” He pauses, rising to a standing position once again, towering over Hayato. And for a terrifying second, Hayato is sure that this is it.
And then Luca says: “I think you should leave.”
Hayato stares at him, breathing fast.
“You don’t belong in this family,” Luca says. “You’re just like me.”
Then his face goes dark. “Only Father never took me in like he did with you,” he says, his words dripping with resentment. “He never lied to everyone, pretending that I was his full-blood son. Just cast me out, and treated me and my mom like dirt. Then he felt sorry about it, years later, after she died, and he brought me back. Into the family, but never into his family. I’m too shameful.”
He looks at Hayato with undisguised contempt. “But you, for some reason… you got to be a normal, happy little kid. Don’t you think that’s messed up?”
Hayato tries to stammer some kind of reply, but Luca cuts him off with sudden viciousness, and he flinches: “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything from you.”
He leans back over again, brings his face in close, so that they are barely inches apart. Then, with a sweeping gesture of his hand, indicating the dead servants all around them, he asks: “Do you want to die like them?”
Hayato feels tears spilling down his face. He shakes his head ‘no.’ “Please…”
“I want you to go,” Luca says quietly, intensely. “I want you to run away and never come back. Do you understand?”
The look in his eye leaves no room for doubt.
Fighting back sobs, Hayato nods wordlessly.
“And if you ever try to contact Father, or anyone from the family, or tell anyone what I did here, I will kill you. Do you understand that?”
Hayato nods again.
“You’re illegitimate, Hayato. Your father killed your mother because you were never supposed to exist. Remember that.”
And he does.
He leaves the castle the next day. His sister almost stops him, begs him to stay, but he doesn’t look back. And he tries his best to make a new life.
But he remembers. Because every day, someone is there to remind him that what Luca said is true. Nobody wants him. He is shameful. He is unwelcome. He’s no good. He shouldn’t exist.
He gradually becomes defiant, desperate to prove that they are wrong. And eventually, he meets Tsuna. And from that point on, everything changes.
And when he thinks about Luca, about his past, he reminds himself that there are people now who will look past it, who care not about his blood or his usefulness, but about him, himself. He reminds himself that to them, he is already worthy.
And it lifts him up, and he is stronger now, because of them. He’s no longer just a little boy whose place in the world has been upended.
And he tries to let those feelings fill him; that sense of belonging; of being needed, wanted, at long last.
And most of the time, it works, and it’s enough.
But there’s a part of him, always, buried and shoved deep down inside. And cloistered there are all his fears and doubts, all huddled up and hiding. And that part of him is still eight years old, and shivering and stammering and pleading for his life. And no matter what he does, he can’t make it disappear.
And always, that part of him still remembers.
---
“Hello, Hayato.”
Gokudera stared as his brother emerged from the murky gloom of the alley.
His first thought was that even after so many years, his appearance had not changed much. He did look older, certainly, and perhaps a little taller. The last time Gokudera had seen him, Luca had still been a teenager, only a few years older than Gokudera currently was himself. Now that he had reached full adulthood, he had filled out and had a somewhat less lean and wiry look.
He wore a suit and tie; the collar was done up neatly, though his suit jacket hung open. His hair was still the same, long dark bangs falling neatly around hazel eyes. Those eyes, strangely, were not as cold as Gokudera remembered; but then again, his last encounter with Luca had been under uniquely sanguinary circumstances. Not such a surprise, then, that he would appear calmer now.
Nonetheless, Gokudera still felt his own pulse racing, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. This was Luca, and Luca was always dangerous.
Immediately he started formulating a plan, making calculations and taking in the environment around them. Luca, meanwhile, was staring him down in return, looking strangely reflective.
“It’s strange,” he said to Gokudera at last. “The older you get, the less you look like our father.”
At the mention of their father, Gokudera felt a sudden flash of anger. It felt like he’d only just started the process of accepting the fact that maybe, just maybe, his father had not been the coldly calculating murderer he’d thought he was for more than half a decade. That maybe his father really had loved his mother after all, doomed though that relationship might have been.
And he’d just been starting to think that maybe one day there might be a possibility of all of those complicated feelings finally being reconciled. That maybe, someday, he could give the man another chance, as undeserved as it was.
And then Franco had come along with the news of his death, and just like that, all of those little hopes had been snuffed out.
He was gone. There would be no reconciling with him, ever. There would be no anything with him, ever again, because he was dead.
And this man who now stood before him… this man…
“…Did you kill him?” Gokudera asked, because even though he already knew the answer, a part of him still needed to hear it from Luca’s own lips. To hear him admit to it.
“Does that really make you so upset?” was all Luca said in response.
It did. And he hated it. A part of him seethed, and another part was grieving, and still another part was outraged and indignant at the fact that he could let such a thing get to him at all. But yes, it did.
And it wasn’t fair. Because he had listened.
“I did what you wanted,” he said. “I ran away. I never contacted anyone. I was alone for years, because of you.” Something was stirring up inside of him, something scared but defiant, and needing to finally escape. “And I finally have my own family now,” he said. “I don’t want anything to do with you, so just… just leave me alone.” And he had wanted, had meant for it to come out as assertive, threatening, but instead even to his ears it sounded more like a plea.
The old Luca would have pounced on it immediately. And yet… something about him was different now. It took him by surprise, and left him wary and on guard. The last time he’d seen him, Luca had been cold and bitter, filled with barely-suppressed rage. Now, however, he was simply observing Gokudera quietly.
“Leave you alone,” he repeated. “…I suppose that’s fair. It has been six years since we’ve seen each other, after all. You have no reason to expect things would have changed. But they have changed, Hayato.”
Gokudera felt a storm of emotions slowly starting to brew inside him. Luca had no right to be so calm, so coolly rational, as though the past six years had never happened. As though it was fine for him to come stampeding back into Gokudera’s life again after all this time, after everything he’d put him through, and then to stand there serenely acting as though he’d never done anything wrong.
“Nothing’s fucking changed,” he said fiercely. “You’re still an asshole just trying to make other people’s lives miserable.”
He wanted him to own it. He wanted him to try to scare and intimidate him again, like he’d done so many times in the past. Let him try. Let him see exactly how things had changed. Let him see that he was no longer just a stupid, weak child.
He was still frightened of what Luca could do, yes. But it wasn’t just fear that had been steadily building up in him for all those years. It was anger, too; a deep, powerful, almost choking animosity that surprised him even now with the way it burned and clawed at him, demanding to finally be given a voice.
In his memories from six years ago, a savage, cold-blooded, calculating and manipulative figure lurked, filled with a vindictive furor and a desire to hurt, and entirely lacking any kind of remorse.
That was the Luca he knew. The Luca he knew would have revealed his temper by now. He certainly would not be standing there, quietly, with a look of what almost-almost-seemed like genuine contrition.
This was not the man Gokudera had come prepared to face. And it was confusing, and upsetting in an entirely different way.
“I made yours miserable,” Luca acknowledged. “I know. And I’m sorry. But you and I, we’re the same. Don’t you understand that now?”
“I’m nothing like you,” Gokudera said hotly.
“You are, more than you know,” Luca insisted. His voice grew more urgent. “We’ve been through the same hardships now. The same bullshit. Living in a world that doesn’t want us. How many families did you go to, after you left? Looking for someone who’d give you a chance, who would take you in. And how many of them actually did?”
“The Vongola did,” Gokudera said. His fist, tightly clenched, was shaking slightly.
For the first time since they’d started talking, a look of irritation swept briefly over Luca’s face. “The Vongola. Sawada Tsunayoshi. …Maybe he is different from the rest of them; I don’t know. But I doubt it. He’ll grow up, eventually, and turn his back on anyone lower than him. That’s the way it’s always been.”
“You’re wrong.”
Luca fixed him with an intent look. “Even if he did let you stay… you don’t belong with the Vongola, Hayato. I know you want to be his right hand. But Consigliere is an outsider position. You’ll never have any real power there.”
He was drawing in closer now, and Gokudera took a step back. As he did so, he let his fingers drop down to a pouch attached to his belt.
Very cautiously, taking great care to make sure Luca didn’t notice, he got to work, all the while never moving his gaze away from his brother’s.
“You are the son of a Boss,” Luca was saying, and there was a growing intensity in his eyes as he continued. “You’re not just some follower. They want you to think that’s all you ever could be, because of your birth, but they’re wrong.”
He took another step closer.
And then, to Gokudera’s utter shock, he stopped, and looked at him imploringly.
“Come back to our family. I’ll make you my second-in-command. You’ll be my successor.”
And for a moment all Gokudera could do was stare.
Out of all the things he’d been prepared for, out of all the possibilities he had considered… this one hadn’t even been on the table.
“…What the fuck,” he said.
“Just consider it,” Luca urged.
But there was no considering it; it was out of the question. And now the anger was back-a complete, sputtering outrage at the very notion that Luca, after everything he had done, could ever even think about making such an offer.
“You tried to have me killed a few days ago,” he said incredulously. “And now you expect me to believe you want me to come be a part of your stupid family? After you murdered our father and ran me out?”
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. It was beyond outrageous; it was almost profane.
“Hayato-” Luca began, but Gokudera cut him off. A trembling, jittering fury had taken hold of him.
“Fuck you. I already have a family.”
And with that, he pressed the ignition switch on the rear of his belt, setting off the bomb trap that he had covertly laid out, and an instant later there was a deafening boom as the alley erupted in dust and smoke.
---
Yamamoto was currently experiencing a moment of déjà vu.
Only that wasn’t quite the word for it. But it was something similar. Was there, in fact, a word for experiencing something that hadn’t actually happened to you yet, but which you had known someday would happen?
If so, then. Whatever that was-he was that.
Six months ago, he, Tsuna, Gokudera, and the others had traveled to the future to take down Byakuran and the Millefiore family. Yamamoto had never actually met his future self-he was pretty sure that was impossible, and even if it wasn’t, he supposed it was the type of thing that would probably create some sort of universe-ending paradox-but he wasn’t immune to curiosity, and while he was there, he had managed to see a few pictures. And so he knew from those pictures that his future self, the ten-years-older Yamamoto Takeshi, had a scar on the right side of his chin.
And it was a mystery as to how he’d gotten it, of course, and of course no one from the future had actually been willing to tell him. He’d asked Lal Mirch and the ten-years-older Ryohei about it once, to no avail. So he’d been left to speculate on his own.
He maintained that he had gotten it doing something cool and awesome. Gokudera contended that he must have been doing something dumb, “like running into a stop sign or something.” (Tsuna thought they were both nuts for dwelling on such a morbid concept to begin with, and insisted on being left out of it.)
As it turned out, both he and Gokudera had been right, in a way.
To be fair, he hadn’t been completely holding back. Early Summer Rain wasn’t the peak of his arsenal, true, but it was an effective surprise attack, and more importantly, one capable of ending a fight quickly.
And okay, it was also true that he had been using the back of his sword, but he always did. And maybe he had been a little distracted, and focused on ending the fight as quickly as possible, so that he could catch up with Tsuna and the rest.
And maybe he had underestimated Bella just a little bit.
Because he had predicted that she would try to dodge the attack. That was why he’d chosen this particular form. When executed properly, even the most experienced sword fighter was caught off guard, anticipating an upward strike, but not expecting the attacker to suddenly switch out the hand that was holding the sword.
But somehow, she had seen through it in an instant. And not just dodged the blow, but countered, suddenly transferring her own sword to her other hand, grasping the hilt with an underhand reverse grip.
And then, with a single flick of her wrist, she’d executed a strike so fast it had nearly been invisible. So fast, in fact, that it had come within millimeters of taking Yamamoto’s head clean off. It would have done just that, had Yamamoto not been able to synchronize his movements with her own in the nick of time, executing the Shigure Souen Ryu’s fourth defensive form: May Wind, October Rain.
As it was, since he’d been foolish enough to enter the fight without activating his full Vongola Gear, his speed had been less than optimal. He’d only been using the one sword, and thus had lacked the propulsion abilities of his activated box weapon. And as a result, just as he’d tilted his head back out of the way, he’d felt the tip of a steel blade nicking upward, grazing his chin.
And just like that, the mystery of how he’d received the infamous scar was a thing of the past.
He could have laughed, had he not been so busy kicking himself.
“Heh,” he said. “Looks like I played that all wrong.”
Bella made a noise in response, sounding both disdainful and-possibly-disappointed.
“I can see your will, Yamamoto Takeshi,” she said. “You lack killing intent.”
“Maybe,” he agreed.
“Did you come here to play? Or to fight?”
“Heh. Calling me out, huh?” He grinned. Blood was sluggishly dribbling from the wound on his chin. “Well then, in that case…”
He took a deep breath, allowed the tranquility of the Rain element to flow over him.
And then, with one fierce, concentrated burst of determination:
“Cambio Forma.”
---
Tsuna was getting frustrated.
It was less of a fight, he thought with dissatisfaction, and more of a fruitless chase. He felt like a toy mallet being ineffectively wielded by a child playing a game of Whac-A-Mole.
“Free tip, Vongola,” said Anthony from his latest perch on the side of the dome. “If you want to win this fight, at some point you might actually want to try landing a hit on me.”
Tsuna didn’t respond. The other man was baiting him, but the exasperating part was that no matter how hard how tried, Anthony really was easily able to evade even his ranged attacks. In particular, he had tried at several points to use the gravity manipulation ability of his Oath flame, but Anthony had managed to avoid those hits as well.
With a burst of impulse, he launched himself toward Anthony again, intending to dive around behind him this time, hoping to somehow encircle him in an X-Stream attack so that he would have no room to escape. Once again, however, the other man was too quick for him, speeding out of the way before Tsuna could come about and continue the attack.
Enough of this, Tsuna decided. If his opponent was just going to dodge and not actually engage, there was no point in continuing to go after him. Especially not when he knew the others were in trouble.
Abruptly, he did an about-face and moved to blast off back in the direction they had come from. But just before he could do so, a bullet came flying at him, forcing him to dodge.
As he turned in surprise, he saw Anthony, now holding a smoking pistol in his hand and looking strangely ill at ease.
“Sorry, kid. I can’t let you do that. I only have one job in this whole thing, you see.”
“To keep me occupied,” Tsuna finished for him after a moment’s pause.
“Right. See, I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re pretty damn dangerous.”
Tsuna fixed him with an icy look. “If you want me to leave your people alone, stay away from mine.”
Anthony scratched awkwardly at his neck with his free hand. “Thing is, that’s not actually up to me.”
“…Your Boss, then,” said Tsuna, putting two and two together. “So in that case, all I have to do is find him.”
“Ah-I’d think twice about that if I were you,” Anthony called as he turned to leave again. Tsuna glanced back at him over his shoulder. “You do know about his ability, right?”
“The Consummate Command.”
“Not something you want to mess with,” said Anthony, with surprising candor. “Take it from me.”
“I’m not afraid,” Tsuna replied. “I’ve faced stronger opponents than him before. But I won’t let him hurt my friends.”
“He’s not going to hurt Hayato,” Anthony said.
Tsuna looked at him sharply. All of the earlier flippancy had disappeared from the other man’s face. He looked fully serious, and although Tsuna still didn’t trust him, he didn’t detect any sign of duplicity there either.
“But he will hurt you,” Anthony continued, “if you go after him. And believe it or not, that’s not something either of us wants.”
“Somehow, I can’t picture you being too concerned,” Tsuna said skeptically.
“It’s not you he’s concerned about,” another, familiar voice cut in. “It’s the rest of the DiSanto family.”
Both Tsuna and Anthony’s heads immediately snapped in the direction of the new presence. There, perched on one of the merlons a dozen or so feet away, stood Reborn.
Tsuna’s heart suddenly lifted; Anthony, on the other hand, sucked in a sharp breath.
“Isn’t that right, Franco?” Reborn said.
Slowly, the corner of Anthony’s lip turned up in a decidedly humorless smile.
“…I literally sent one hundred men after you.”
“It was a refreshing warm-up,” Reborn replied.
Anthony glanced down, shaking his head. “They all dead?” he said quietly.
“Not quite,” Reborn said. “Maybe wishing they were right about now, though.”
Anthony directed a bewildered expression toward Reborn for a moment, before slowly setting back into another smile. He had a look that Tsuna recognized. It was the look of someone knowingly about to go in over their head, but prepared to do so anyway.
“…Well, this sucks,” he said.
“You can always surrender,” Reborn suggested.
“Probably should, huh? Ah, well.”
Tsuna and Reborn exchanged glances. Reborn nodded, and held up his gun.
Tsuna prepared to fight.
---
Continue to Chapter 6
( Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 )
Additional Notes - So originally I had intended to wrap up all three fight scenes in one chapter. But then said chapter ended up being close to ten thousand words, so! I ended up having to split it.
Apologies for the abrupt cliffhanger. Also, we are pretty close to the halfway point of the fic.