Reborn! fic - Blood of the Covenant (Chapter 9)
( Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 )
Title - Blood of the Covenant
Rating - PG-13 for language and violence
Characters - Gokudera, Tsuna, Reborn, Yamamoto
Notes - Hey all, just wanted to apologize for the delay in this chapter. Since it’s the finale and everything is finally coming together, there were a lot of details to work and rework. I basically underestimated how much time it was going to take. And I figured that if I was going to leave people hanging at any point, it would be kinder to do so with the previous chapter than this one, at least in terms of cliffhangers.
Warnings - These contain spoilers, so skip ahead if you want to avoid.
[Spoiler (click to open)]
Target 09 - Point of No Return
Anthony Franco is eighteen years old when he first meets Luca DiSanto. Luca is fifteen, and not actually Luca DiSanto at all, but rather Luca Romagna, having gone by his mother’s name since birth.
Now, though, Luca’s mother is dead. And that’s the reason why Anthony is presently here at her house in Catania, waiting for her son to return.
Anthony is a contract killer, and very good at what he does. Despite his relative youth, he has already begun to earn a name for himself in the underworld. Now his Boss, Giovanni DiSanto, has assigned him to “take care of” his illegitimate son, whose existence has been kept under wraps for the past decade and a half.
Anthony is fiddling around with a cigarette lighter when Luca finally arrives. His key turns in the lock, and he walks in unsuspectingly. Then he freezes as he sees Anthony, waiting for him in the kitchen.
Anthony takes the opportunity to observe. Luca is short for his age, a trait that might have made him seem younger than his fifteen years, were it not for the tired look in his eyes. He is also, Anthony notes, bloodied and bruised all over. His clothing and jacket are torn as well, which is particularly surprising, given that he’s just come from his mother’s funeral.
“Hello, Luca,” Anthony says.
Luca swallows just a bit, but he puts on a brave face. “Who are you?” he asks.
“That’s not important,” Anthony replies.
“…Do you work for Danatoni too?”
Danatoni? The Danatoni family is a nothing group operating out of Catania. Anthony has heard of them, because he makes a point of being knowledgeable on every famiglia in Sicily, but they’re a small-time gang, barely a blip on the DiSanto’s radar. “No,” he says. “I work for your father.”
Luca’s eyes widen. “My… my father?”
“That’s right.”
A range of emotions plays out on the kid’s face over the next few moments. He looks surprised, and then for the briefest of seconds, hopeful. But then understanding seems to sink in. The hope in his eyes is replaced first by hurt, and then dismay. And then, finally, resignation.
“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?” he says.
“It’s nothing personal,” Anthony replies.
He expects Luca to freak out, or try to run. To his surprise, however, instead the kid just sighs.
“…Just get it over with, then.”
“That’s it?” Anthony says, a little startled. “You’re okay with going out just like that?”
Luca lets out a short, hopeless laugh. “It’s not like I have anything left to live for, anyway.”
“That’s a pretty grim thing to say for someone your age.”
“Just do it,” Luca repeats, looking more determined now. “I don’t care.”
Anthony frowns and leans back, crossing his arms. He’s not holding his gun yet, and makes no move to draw it. “There’s no rush.”
Truthfully, he’s starting to wonder if this was a good idea, talking to the kid like this. He’s aware that he has a tendency to be a bit sentimental at times. He’s gotten in trouble for it before, and usually he takes steps to offset it on the more important jobs.
At first, he’d been prepared to do the same for this one. But then he’d considered the fact that the Boss was fully aware of his sentimentality, and yet had chosen him for this assignment anyway. And he’d wondered if maybe, just maybe, that hadn’t been intentional.
As a result, Anthony had already decided ahead of time that if the kid freaked out in any way-if he got scared and tried to run, or pleaded for his life-he would let him go. Hitman or not, murdering kids wasn’t something that sat particularly well with him, and if the Boss had sent him here knowing that, he figured it meant that he might be having second thoughts, as well.
So he’d been prepared for that. But not for this: this sullen, bitter, dispirited child, already resigned to his death. This, he isn’t sure how to react to.
There’s also the curious matter of the kid’s not-inconsiderable injuries and generally disheveled appearance. Anthony inspects him again, a little more closely. “You been fighting?” he asks.
Luca eyes him warily. “…I borrowed money from some guys a while back. To help with my mom’s medical bills. They got mad because I hadn’t paid them back. Not that it… matters anymore, anyway.”
Anthony scrutinizes him silently for a long moment. “How much do you owe them?” he says at last.
Luca blinks, looking startled. “What?”
“How much was it?”
“I don’t…” The kid’s brow furrows in confusion. “Why does it matter?”
“Your father’s a mafia boss. There’s a certain code they all have to adhere to, as men of honor. Part of that code involves making sure their debts are paid.” This is true more in theory than practice, but the kid doesn’t need to know that.
He doesn’t reply, though. He’s still eyeing Anthony, looking mistrustful.
“How much?” Anthony presses.
“…It’s already been paid,” the kid replies finally.
There’s a strange quality to his tone that gives Anthony pause and makes him come to a sudden realization.
“…That’s not your blood, is it?”
Something flashes in the kid’s eyes. “Enough,” he says. “Just do it already.”
“I don’t like being rushed,” Anthony says.
“Do it,” the kid repeats, insistently.
Anthony doesn’t move.
Something in the kid seems to snap. “I said, do it!”
And for all of his calm, all his experience, Anthony is not at all prepared for what happens next.
All of a sudden, his arm moves of its own accord, reaching into the holster hidden under his suit jacket, pulling out the gun, and aiming it squarely at Luca’s forehead. It all happens in an instant. The trigger, however, is not pulled. Instead, he freezes. And he stays that way.
Anthony blinks. Then blinks again.
Finally, comprehension dawns on him.
“Shit,” he says. “You really are his son, aren’t you?”
He’s lived in the mafia world since childhood, since he was younger than Luca is now, and yet Anthony can still count on one hand the number of times he’s seen something that truly surprised him. His first and only time seeing the Consummate Command in action under the control of Luca’s father Giovanni was one of those occasions.
And this, he thinks… this is probably another.
Luca is breathing heavily. Anger flashes in his gaze. “He’s no father of mine. He never has been.”
Anthony frowns. His index finger, he notes, removed from his control, has still not pulled the trigger.
“Go on,” says Luca. “Finish it.”
Understanding hits Anthony in a flash. He purses his lips carefully. “If you want to die so bad, then why don’t you just finish it yourself? You’re in control, after all.”
Luca doesn’t answer, only glares at Anthony all the more fiercely, still breathing hard.
“Hmm?” Anthony says questioningly, raising an eyebrow.
The kid flinches, just a bit, but enough so that even if Anthony hadn’t already been certain it was all a bluff, that would have put him over the top.
Then all at once the control is released, and just like that Anthony’s arm belongs to him and him alone once again.
He gives a short laugh. “Thought so. So it’s like that, huh?”
The kid doesn’t answer, avoiding his eyes. And watching him, Anthony makes a final decision.
“All right,” he says. “Change of plans.” He twirls the gun around on his finger, and then slips it back into its holster.
Luca watches, looking suspicious but, also, as if he doesn’t understand at all. “I…” he says. “I don’t…”
“Today’s your lucky day,” Anthony says with a smile.
“But you said… my father…”
“I’m making a different call,” is all the explanation Anthony gives. “I’ll talk to your old man. He’ll understand.”
“He doesn’t care,” Luca says. He still seems confused, but whenever it comes to his father, his tone is certain.
“Well, it’s like I said. As a man of honor, he has a responsibility to pay his debts.” He eyes Luca again, thoughtfully. “And it seems to me like he owes you a rather large one,” he says at last.
“He…” Luca looks at the floor, shaking his head. “He won’t.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Anthony says firmly. “I told you, I’ll talk to him.”
For a long moment the kid is silent, the hesitation in his eyes seemingly warring with a type of deep longing.
Finally, Anthony takes a step closer. “Listen, kid. You can trust me, okay?”
“…I don’t even know who you are,” the kid says.
“My name’s Anthony.” He holds out his hand. “Anthony Franco.”
And, after another long moment, Luca finally takes it.
---
The DiSanto family castle sat nestled in the mountains just west of the city, grand, sweeping, and opulent, its pointed spires reaching elegantly into the twilight sky. Oversized, cathedral-like windows lined its stone walls. It was massive and awe-inspiring, like something out of a children’s fairy tale. And indeed, over the years this place had housed its share of demons as vile and twisted as any from those stories.
Gokudera made his way up the winding mountain road toward his childhood home. Just up ahead, the path passed underneath the massive stone entry arch at the front of the estate. Beyond that, the doors to the castle were visible on the far side of the stately driveway loop.
Dozens of DiSanto men dressed in suits and sunglasses stood guard all along the sides of the path. He eyed them closely, aware of just how integral their presence was to the plan. If Anthony Franco hadn’t held up his end of their deal… if he’d been deceiving them…
No. He couldn’t think about that. Both Tsuna and Reborn were certain that the man could be trusted. And Gokudera trusted them. It had to work. There was no other option.
None of the men made any move to stop him, which concerned him at first. If they weren’t careful, they could give up the game before it had even started. But then, he realized-Luca must have given orders to allow him through.
He would, after all, be expecting him.
As he passed through the archway and entered the courtyard, he found himself assaulted by a rush of memories. Everything, even the smell of the trees, was familiar. He could see the balcony, on the north side of the building, where Shamal had first showed him the dynamite trick that would one day become his rocket bomb attack. A dozen meters away, he could just make out a thicket of trees where he’d once hid (to no avail) from Bianchi and her latest batch of poison cooking.
This had been his home. He’d lived here and played here. And he had suffered here, also.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered why he had been so compelled to come back. Out of all the plans they could have made, all the actions they could have taken, there had to be numerous options which didn’t involve him impulsively waltzing headlong into what was unquestionably a very dangerous scenario. After everything Tsuna had done to stop him from leaving, there was more than a little irony in his brazenly choosing to return here nonetheless. There were other ways, and certainly ones involving less risk.
But it wasn’t just about taking Luca down. It was about seeing this through. And he didn’t want to just sit back and let others handle it. He was tired of being afraid. He wanted, needed, to let it go.
And the only way he could do that was by confronting Luca one last time.
As he approached the entrance, the great wooden doors opened, and his brother stepped out. He stepped forward as Gokudera drew near.
They stopped about a dozen feet from each other. Gokudera felt the evening wind blowing in his hair, and a shiver ran quietly down his spine. It was only the wind, he told himself. He would not fall apart this time.
This time, he was going to end it. One way or the other.
---
Yamamoto stood waiting on the steps of the fountain.
He could not see, and so would have been unable to describe the place if asked. He could hear the water, but could not see the dozen marble statues from which it poured, stone heads lined all around the fountain’s lower reservoir. He could feel the cool marble of the railing beneath his outstretched left hand, but couldn’t see the stairs leading up to the fountain’s raised upper ring, and its circular central basin. He could feel, too, the approaching night air, but could not witness the surrounding lamp posts blinking into life, casting a golden glow and reflecting off the water’s surfaces.
And he could not see the woman approaching him now, but he could feel her presence; the vibrant, flickering energy of the Sun waves that ran and flowed all throughout her body, as vital and brilliant as his own Rain energy.
The Ninth’s men had dropped him off. They were still waiting nearby-even if he hadn’t been able to sense their hadou, he would have still expected it-but he knew they would not interfere unless there was a desperate need. He didn’t intend for that to happen.
He was aware that coming out here might not have been the greatest idea he’d ever had, but it was something he had to do nonetheless. And strangely, no one else had argued. It felt like they understood, and for that, he was grateful.
Although he had wavered for some time over wanting to be there to help Tsuna and Gokudera. The other two had revealed their plan-well, Reborn’s plan, really-to him earlier that day, and while he had faith that they could and would pull it off-because that’s what they always did-it didn’t quite feel right, not being there by their side in the moment of truth. But both of them had rightfully pointed out that given Luca’s abilities, he would likely be more of a liability than anything else. There wasn’t much he could do to help them out, and conversely there were a lot of ways that his presence there could go drastically wrong.
No, like it or not, he was out of this fight now. And to ensure that this never happened again, he needed to become stronger.
And that, more than anything else, was why he had come here.
“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna come find me or not,” he said as Bella approached the steps.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come out to be found,” came the reply.
“Heh,” he said. “It doesn’t make sense, I guess. But I just felt like I had to, you know?”
“There’s little point to the two of us fighting here now,” she observed. “One way or another, this will be decided elsewhere.”
“Then why did you come?” he asked, curious. Even it was what he had been hoping for, he had to admit that it certainly wouldn’t have surprised him if she hadn’t.
There was a thoughtful pause as Bella reached the foot of the steps.
“Because you don’t strike me as an irrational boy, Yamamoto Takeshi,” she said at last.
“Heh,” he said, not understanding at all. “What?”
“Most men are, you know,” she said, and there was a faintly reflective quality to her tone now. “Especially swordsmen. They don’t know when to back down. Even if they come up against something they can’t defeat. They come at it again and again, and usually pay for it with their lives.”
Another pause. “And they consider that to be honorable. They don’t consider what a waste it is, or think about those they may be leaving behind.”
He frowned slightly. The way she said it almost made it sound like she was speaking from experience. For a moment he wondered exactly what Bella’s story was.
But there was no time to dwell on it as she continued. “People like that exhaust me,” she said flatly. “…But you don’t strike me as being that type. If there was no chance of you defeating me, if it was certain death, I don’t think you would have done that to your people. Not for something as stupid as pride. So, since you’re here, it must mean that you think you can win.”
There was one last pause, and then the sound of a sword being drawn.
“In other words, if you’re here to face me again, it means that you’ve learned how to see.”
And although Yamamoto couldn’t see it, he was absolutely sure that she was smiling.
He followed suit, both in expression, and in drawing his own blade.
“Well?” Bella pressed. It seemed she was waiting for an answer.
“Heh. I hope so,” he replied.
And he could feel the flare of her Sun hadou firing up, clearer than any shifting of a stance or twitch of muscle movement. It was like reading a map. Her wave energy was telling him exactly what she meant to do next.
(I can see your intent.)
Yamamoto grinned as Bella charged.
---
“Hayato,” Luca said. “Have you made your decision?”
Gokudera took a steadying breath, willing himself to focus. This would not go like their last encounter.
“Yeah,” he said. “I have.”
“Really?” Luca said mildly, his tone making it clear that it was not a question at all. “The wrong one, then.”
In spite of his determination-or maybe because of it-there was a restive energy coursing uneasily through Gokudera, made all the more potent by the ominous way that Luca spoke. Rather than try to resist it, he instead allowed it to run its course. It didn’t matter if Luca knew that he was nervous-in fact, if anything it probably helped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came here, just like you wanted.”
“Don’t bother,” Luca said dismissively. “I already know you’re not alone. Did you think we wouldn’t be able to detect the Dying Will flame energy as you approached?”
He made a noise that was half-scoff and half-sigh. “I’m disappointed, Hayato. You didn’t believe me, I guess. But you’ve made a mistake.”
Gokudera felt his nervousness start to dispel into a furious indignation. “You’re the one making the mistake. You declared war on the most powerful family in Italy, all so you could satisfy your own fucked-up need for… revenge, or whatever, for something I never had any control over.”
It still hurt just to think about. It wasn’t like he had asked for it. And it wasn’t like ruining Gokudera’s life could have ever somehow fixed Luca’s own. Gokudera wondered if Luca actually believed that, or if the grudge he bore against their father even now was so sweeping that Gokudera had simply been caught in the crossfire.
Him, and everything else.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” he said. “All so you can have your damn eye for an eye.”
“I don’t care,” Luca replied without the slightest hesitation.
And even though Gokudera had suspected as much already, the starkness with which Luca admitted it, levelly and without even a hint of remorse, was still startling. Even surrounded by his own people, he apparently wasn’t going to deny it.
“You think I haven’t thought this through,” Luca said. “That I’m being reckless, not thinking about the consequences. But the truth is, I don’t care.” There was a caustic, erratic hint of unbalance in his tone as he continued. “I used to think things would be all right, if I could just finally take my rightful place as the heir to the family.” He let out a quiet laugh. “Do you know… it didn’t change anything.”
He locked eyes with Gokudera. “So I don’t care, anymore, Hayato. But I will make you understand.”
Gokudera looked back, unafraid.
“I understand,” he replied. “You think you have nothing to lose.”
And for a moment, that genuinely made him feel sorry for him.
Luca was eyeing him coldly. “Unlike you,” he said.
“…Yeah,” Gokudera admitted after a moment. “You’re right.”
And then he allowed the corner of his mouth to turn upwards.
“It’s like you said. I’m not alone.”
And on that cue, all of a sudden a wall of heavy force-so strong Gokudera could almost feel it from where he stood, even though he was outside its sphere of influence-slammed into the older man, driving him to his knees. Luca grunted under the impact, and then again as the blast increased, driving in deeper, the gravitational pressure flattening the ground and forming a small crater in the middle of the drive.
Luca gritted his teeth as the spiraling patterns of Tsuna’s Oath Flame coiled around him. For a moment, Gokudera held his breath, wondering if it was possible that this could actually work. Could it really be over so quickly?
Then Luca snapped his head toward him, and suddenly Gokudera’s legs and arms were moving of their own accord. He turned to the DiSanto soldier standing closest to him, reached into his jacket, took the pistol from the holster there, and held it up to his own head.
The crushing energy bearing down on Luca suddenly seemed to waver, although it didn’t dissipate. Luca smiled grimly.
“Well? What’s it going to be, Vongola?”
There was no response. Then Gokudera felt his own fingers moving and heard the pistol cock next to his ear.
“You have five seconds,” Luca said loudly, but calmly. “Then he blows his brains out. One… two…”
Gokudera felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck.
Then all at once the gravitational force receded, before vanishing altogether. Luca slowly climbed to his feet, looking slightly unsteady but otherwise not too much worse for wear.
“Not good enough,” he said, a little louder now. “Show yourself,” he commanded as he took a few steps, glancing around. His voice grew louder still. “Unless you don’t think I’ll do it. I admit I’m not sure myself, so let’s find out.” He shot a glance toward Gokudera. “Three… four-”
“Wait,” Tsuna’s voice cut in suddenly.
And there he was, dropping in from his hidden location above, forehead and gloves lit with the bright orange flames of his Hyper Dying Will mode.
Gokudera closed his eyes for a moment and tried to control the sudden franticness of his own heartbeat. This was it. Tsuna was here, facing off with Luca. They were all in, now, past the point of no return.
Once again he forced the fear to run its course. He couldn’t keep thinking about the what-ifs. He had chosen to do this, and so had Tsuna. And both of them had known full well what they were getting into.
He needed to have faith. To trust in the person who had showed him how to trust.
Even if things were about to get much worse before they got better.
“There you are,” Luca said, narrowing his eyes in Tsuna’s direction. He nodded once, indicating the flames on Tsuna’s forehead, then inclined his head in Gokudera’s direction. “Power down now, please.”
Tsuna glared, but did as he was told. Gokudera watched, noting that Luca hadn’t taken control of Tsuna yet. Then again, given the speed with which he had taken hold of Ganauche the previous day, there was no question of whether he’d be able to possess him at a moment’s notice if need be. Clearly he felt confident that there was no need to do so, for now.
“Well, then,” Luca said. “Welcome to my home, Vongola Tenth.”
---
Yamamoto sidestepped Bella’s attack and parried the blow, clasping his own blade in Bella’s own trademark reverse grip. He felt the subtle change in her flames as she came about.
She was impressed, he realized. The shifting flame patterns didn’t just reveal her fighting intent; they displayed other emotions, too. The warmer feelings like pride and passion burned more intensely, while calmer emotions burned at a cooler degree.
And he could see it. And while at first he hadn’t known what to look for, and afterwards had been almost overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of input as he gradually became aware of this once-hidden world all around him, he was getting used to it now, and it was getting easier and easier to interpret by the minute.
It was incredible. Each individual life around him burned with its own Dying Will flame, each with its own color and varying intensity. When he was fully tuned in, like this, it was almost like viewing the world through heat-vision goggles. He wondered if this was what being Superman felt like.
“Very good,” came Bella’s voice. He could see the shimmer of excitement in her golden Sun flames.
He laughed and moved to counter the next blow as well. Then he jumped, moved by pure instinct, seeing the Sun flames run down her arm and through her sword as she moved to slice at his feet.
She switched to a regular grip; he could see the blade’s silhouette outlined in flames as clearly as if he were looking at the real, actual thing. She slashed toward his head and he blocked. Then her right hand abruptly let go of her blade and folded to hook around his blocking arm, trapping it in place, while her left hand caught the weapon as it fell. Having locked him into position, she brought her left hand, now holding the sword, upwards to strike.
But just as she did so, he swung at her with his own left hand, having materialized his second sword blade at the same instant that she’d switched her sword hand. She was forced to release his arm in order to dodge as he swept the blade behind her feet.
Not missing a beat, Bella passed her weapon back to her right hand and spun it around, returning it to the reverse grip position. She came at him again, this time swinging the blade up past his shoulder, and then cutting down at a 45 degree angle, aiming to slice open his chest. He parried with both of his swords in an x block, then angled the blades together in a pincer fashion, attempting to pry her blade from her hands. But before he could manage it, she leaped back, landing a few feet away.
The whole exchange had probably taken no more than ten seconds, but he found himself panting as though he’d just run ten kilometers. “Wow,” he laughed. “That was intense.”
“You’re very good,” Bella acknowledged. “But you’re not fighting back. Are you afraid?”
Yamamoto grinned. “Not really. I guess… I’m just waiting to see what you can really do.”
There was an exhilarated shine to her Sun flames, and he guessed that she was smiling again.
“In that case,” she said, “let me show you.”
---
“…You’re shorter than I thought you’d be,” Gokudera’s brother said, almost thoughtfully. “I suppose you are still a child.”
Tsuna glared back at him. Despite no longer being in his Hyper Dying Will mode, he strangely didn’t feel afraid or intimidated in the slightest. All he felt was anger.
This was the man who had caused Gokudera so much anguish. This was the man who had scared him so badly that he’d almost left them-twice. It nagged at Tsuna even now. It had been entirely too close.
But they had moved past that now. This time, they were ready for him. Even if that hadn’t been the case, though, Tsuna thought that he himself was past the point where he could ever have been frightened by this man. He didn’t care what Luca DiSanto could do, or what he was capable of. All he cared about was making sure that after today, he would never be able to hurt Gokudera again.
“Let Gokudera-kun go,” he said.
Luca raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re making demands? Understand the situation that you’re in, Vongola.”
And then suddenly, almost before he was aware of what was going on, Tsuna was flung into the ground, almost in the exact same manner that Luca had been only a few minutes earlier. Only there was no external force buckling Tsuna. He hadn’t actually been thrown; he had in fact slammed his own body into the concrete with swift, dizzying force.
It took him a moment to realize what had just occurred. It was him, but not him. It was one of the most confusing things he had ever experienced, and for a moment the total disorientation almost blocked out the pain. Distantly, he heard Gokudera’s voice crying out: “Boss!”
Then someone was approaching him, and suddenly Tsuna climbed back to his feet.
He mentally tried to sort himself out. He was pretty sure his hands, knees, and face were scraped, and possibly a little bloodied, but otherwise he felt all right. He had experienced much worse in other battles. It was disconcerting and a little unsettling to not be in control of himself, but this had been expected, after all. He just needed to keep a cool head.
He eyed Luca steadily as the other man came to a halt just a few feet away.
“You see,” Luca said, “unfortunately for you, my brother and I had an arrangement, and he’s just flagrantly violated it.”
He glanced over his shoulder to where Gokudera stood, eyes wide. “Isn’t that right, Hayato? Didn’t I promise you?”
Gokudera said nothing. Luca turned to face him fully. Tsuna couldn’t see Luca’s expression, but he could see Gokudera swallow roughly.
“Give me the gun,” Luca said, and Gokudera stepped forward, hand outstretched to proffer the weapon. Luca took it, and turned it over idly in his hands, as he turned to address Tsuna once again.
“You see, I told him that if he didn’t join me, I would kill you.” He ran a finger over the weapon’s trigger with great deliberation. “So…”
Then he suddenly clicked the gun and pointed it at Tsuna’s forehead, prompting an alarmed cry from Gokudera.
“It’s nothing personal,” Luca said, ignoring his brother entirely. “Except… maybe it is.”
“Don’t!” Gokudera shouted suddenly.
Luca shot him an unrepentant look. “It didn’t have to go this way. You could have said yes, when I first asked you. But you’ve always been willful.”
“He won’t join you,” Tsuna said with sudden fierceness. “Even if you do kill me.”
He expected Luca to respond with more cool indifference. To his surprise, however, when he replied, there was no trace of sarcasm or scorn in his voice; only a hollow, fatalistic acceptance.
“I know,” he said. And then he smiled, in an empty way that matched his tone. “He hates me. Because I convinced our father to keep poisoning him, all those years ago. And because I chased him out from his home, and showed him what the world really thought of him. Because I hated him too, you see. That’s what really bonds us.”
He looked at Gokudera almost sadly, but when he spoke again, his voice held a dangerous, unstable edge. “There’s no mending that, now.”
He eyed Gokudera for a moment longer, and Tsuna didn’t at all like the uneasy expression that had suddenly appeared on Gokudera’s face.
Finally, Luca turned back to Tsuna, and it was plain that the brief flash of melancholy had passed. “So, just so we’re clear. This has nothing to do with persuading him to join me. This is just spite.”
“Luca-”
“Don’t worry, Hayato,” Luca cut Gokudera off. “I’m not going to kill him.”
He lowered the gun… and then looked back at his brother.
“I’m going to make you do it.”
And Tsuna watched anxiously as Gokudera’s expression shifted from unease to horror as he involuntarily stepped forward and took the gun from Luca’s hand.
They had prepared for this, Tsuna thought, willing himself to stay calm. But it was hard, when Gokudera looked so afraid. He didn’t say anything, but his breathing was thick and ragged as he pressed the barrel to Tsuna’s head.
“Any last words?” Luca said.
Tsuna swallowed, not looking away from Gokudera’s eyes.
He knew Gokudera well enough to know when he was acting. This wasn’t that. Even though Gokudera was as aware of the plan as he was, this was still his worst fear being realized, literally being acted out with him helpless to do anything about it. Of course he would be panicked. Of course he would be scared.
“Boss,” Gokudera said quietly. “Tsuna…”
“Gokudera-kun,” he said, with as much reassurance as he could muster, still not breaking eye contact. He couldn’t let himself be afraid, not now. “It’s all right.”
Gokudera stared back. There were tears brimming in his eyes but he blinked them away.
But then his eyes narrowed determinedly. And just for a moment, Tsuna saw a flash of something within him. It was that spark that had been missing ever since the night of the graduation ceremony. That stubborn, dogged, unrelenting spirit that he knew so well.
Somehow, right at this darkest, most hopeless moment, he had found it again.
Tsuna smiled.
And then Gokudera pulled the trigger.
---
Continue to Chapter 10
( Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 )
Additional Notes - *whistles*
…Yeah, so as you can see, this is a considerably more over-the-top cliffhanger than the previous chapter’s “Reborn is proud of Tsuna” moment, lol. Hopefully it won’t take me a week to get the last chapter up. I’m aiming for Monday, but if it doesn’t happen I apologize. It’s just me trying to make sure the ending is satisfying enough, after all of this.
And the Vongola really have a knack for coming up with literally the most dramatic plans possible. Probably a very obvious plan, too, for anyone who knows their MO.
Title - Blood of the Covenant
Rating - PG-13 for language and violence
Characters - Gokudera, Tsuna, Reborn, Yamamoto
Notes - Hey all, just wanted to apologize for the delay in this chapter. Since it’s the finale and everything is finally coming together, there were a lot of details to work and rework. I basically underestimated how much time it was going to take. And I figured that if I was going to leave people hanging at any point, it would be kinder to do so with the previous chapter than this one, at least in terms of cliffhangers.
Warnings - These contain spoilers, so skip ahead if you want to avoid.
[Spoiler (click to open)]
- Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts/behavior.
- Probably should throw in another one of those mind-control warnings, since, yeah. That’s happening again too.
Target 09 - Point of No Return
Anthony Franco is eighteen years old when he first meets Luca DiSanto. Luca is fifteen, and not actually Luca DiSanto at all, but rather Luca Romagna, having gone by his mother’s name since birth.
Now, though, Luca’s mother is dead. And that’s the reason why Anthony is presently here at her house in Catania, waiting for her son to return.
Anthony is a contract killer, and very good at what he does. Despite his relative youth, he has already begun to earn a name for himself in the underworld. Now his Boss, Giovanni DiSanto, has assigned him to “take care of” his illegitimate son, whose existence has been kept under wraps for the past decade and a half.
Anthony is fiddling around with a cigarette lighter when Luca finally arrives. His key turns in the lock, and he walks in unsuspectingly. Then he freezes as he sees Anthony, waiting for him in the kitchen.
Anthony takes the opportunity to observe. Luca is short for his age, a trait that might have made him seem younger than his fifteen years, were it not for the tired look in his eyes. He is also, Anthony notes, bloodied and bruised all over. His clothing and jacket are torn as well, which is particularly surprising, given that he’s just come from his mother’s funeral.
“Hello, Luca,” Anthony says.
Luca swallows just a bit, but he puts on a brave face. “Who are you?” he asks.
“That’s not important,” Anthony replies.
“…Do you work for Danatoni too?”
Danatoni? The Danatoni family is a nothing group operating out of Catania. Anthony has heard of them, because he makes a point of being knowledgeable on every famiglia in Sicily, but they’re a small-time gang, barely a blip on the DiSanto’s radar. “No,” he says. “I work for your father.”
Luca’s eyes widen. “My… my father?”
“That’s right.”
A range of emotions plays out on the kid’s face over the next few moments. He looks surprised, and then for the briefest of seconds, hopeful. But then understanding seems to sink in. The hope in his eyes is replaced first by hurt, and then dismay. And then, finally, resignation.
“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?” he says.
“It’s nothing personal,” Anthony replies.
He expects Luca to freak out, or try to run. To his surprise, however, instead the kid just sighs.
“…Just get it over with, then.”
“That’s it?” Anthony says, a little startled. “You’re okay with going out just like that?”
Luca lets out a short, hopeless laugh. “It’s not like I have anything left to live for, anyway.”
“That’s a pretty grim thing to say for someone your age.”
“Just do it,” Luca repeats, looking more determined now. “I don’t care.”
Anthony frowns and leans back, crossing his arms. He’s not holding his gun yet, and makes no move to draw it. “There’s no rush.”
Truthfully, he’s starting to wonder if this was a good idea, talking to the kid like this. He’s aware that he has a tendency to be a bit sentimental at times. He’s gotten in trouble for it before, and usually he takes steps to offset it on the more important jobs.
At first, he’d been prepared to do the same for this one. But then he’d considered the fact that the Boss was fully aware of his sentimentality, and yet had chosen him for this assignment anyway. And he’d wondered if maybe, just maybe, that hadn’t been intentional.
As a result, Anthony had already decided ahead of time that if the kid freaked out in any way-if he got scared and tried to run, or pleaded for his life-he would let him go. Hitman or not, murdering kids wasn’t something that sat particularly well with him, and if the Boss had sent him here knowing that, he figured it meant that he might be having second thoughts, as well.
So he’d been prepared for that. But not for this: this sullen, bitter, dispirited child, already resigned to his death. This, he isn’t sure how to react to.
There’s also the curious matter of the kid’s not-inconsiderable injuries and generally disheveled appearance. Anthony inspects him again, a little more closely. “You been fighting?” he asks.
Luca eyes him warily. “…I borrowed money from some guys a while back. To help with my mom’s medical bills. They got mad because I hadn’t paid them back. Not that it… matters anymore, anyway.”
Anthony scrutinizes him silently for a long moment. “How much do you owe them?” he says at last.
Luca blinks, looking startled. “What?”
“How much was it?”
“I don’t…” The kid’s brow furrows in confusion. “Why does it matter?”
“Your father’s a mafia boss. There’s a certain code they all have to adhere to, as men of honor. Part of that code involves making sure their debts are paid.” This is true more in theory than practice, but the kid doesn’t need to know that.
He doesn’t reply, though. He’s still eyeing Anthony, looking mistrustful.
“How much?” Anthony presses.
“…It’s already been paid,” the kid replies finally.
There’s a strange quality to his tone that gives Anthony pause and makes him come to a sudden realization.
“…That’s not your blood, is it?”
Something flashes in the kid’s eyes. “Enough,” he says. “Just do it already.”
“I don’t like being rushed,” Anthony says.
“Do it,” the kid repeats, insistently.
Anthony doesn’t move.
Something in the kid seems to snap. “I said, do it!”
And for all of his calm, all his experience, Anthony is not at all prepared for what happens next.
All of a sudden, his arm moves of its own accord, reaching into the holster hidden under his suit jacket, pulling out the gun, and aiming it squarely at Luca’s forehead. It all happens in an instant. The trigger, however, is not pulled. Instead, he freezes. And he stays that way.
Anthony blinks. Then blinks again.
Finally, comprehension dawns on him.
“Shit,” he says. “You really are his son, aren’t you?”
He’s lived in the mafia world since childhood, since he was younger than Luca is now, and yet Anthony can still count on one hand the number of times he’s seen something that truly surprised him. His first and only time seeing the Consummate Command in action under the control of Luca’s father Giovanni was one of those occasions.
And this, he thinks… this is probably another.
Luca is breathing heavily. Anger flashes in his gaze. “He’s no father of mine. He never has been.”
Anthony frowns. His index finger, he notes, removed from his control, has still not pulled the trigger.
“Go on,” says Luca. “Finish it.”
Understanding hits Anthony in a flash. He purses his lips carefully. “If you want to die so bad, then why don’t you just finish it yourself? You’re in control, after all.”
Luca doesn’t answer, only glares at Anthony all the more fiercely, still breathing hard.
“Hmm?” Anthony says questioningly, raising an eyebrow.
The kid flinches, just a bit, but enough so that even if Anthony hadn’t already been certain it was all a bluff, that would have put him over the top.
Then all at once the control is released, and just like that Anthony’s arm belongs to him and him alone once again.
He gives a short laugh. “Thought so. So it’s like that, huh?”
The kid doesn’t answer, avoiding his eyes. And watching him, Anthony makes a final decision.
“All right,” he says. “Change of plans.” He twirls the gun around on his finger, and then slips it back into its holster.
Luca watches, looking suspicious but, also, as if he doesn’t understand at all. “I…” he says. “I don’t…”
“Today’s your lucky day,” Anthony says with a smile.
“But you said… my father…”
“I’m making a different call,” is all the explanation Anthony gives. “I’ll talk to your old man. He’ll understand.”
“He doesn’t care,” Luca says. He still seems confused, but whenever it comes to his father, his tone is certain.
“Well, it’s like I said. As a man of honor, he has a responsibility to pay his debts.” He eyes Luca again, thoughtfully. “And it seems to me like he owes you a rather large one,” he says at last.
“He…” Luca looks at the floor, shaking his head. “He won’t.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Anthony says firmly. “I told you, I’ll talk to him.”
For a long moment the kid is silent, the hesitation in his eyes seemingly warring with a type of deep longing.
Finally, Anthony takes a step closer. “Listen, kid. You can trust me, okay?”
“…I don’t even know who you are,” the kid says.
“My name’s Anthony.” He holds out his hand. “Anthony Franco.”
And, after another long moment, Luca finally takes it.
---
The DiSanto family castle sat nestled in the mountains just west of the city, grand, sweeping, and opulent, its pointed spires reaching elegantly into the twilight sky. Oversized, cathedral-like windows lined its stone walls. It was massive and awe-inspiring, like something out of a children’s fairy tale. And indeed, over the years this place had housed its share of demons as vile and twisted as any from those stories.
Gokudera made his way up the winding mountain road toward his childhood home. Just up ahead, the path passed underneath the massive stone entry arch at the front of the estate. Beyond that, the doors to the castle were visible on the far side of the stately driveway loop.
Dozens of DiSanto men dressed in suits and sunglasses stood guard all along the sides of the path. He eyed them closely, aware of just how integral their presence was to the plan. If Anthony Franco hadn’t held up his end of their deal… if he’d been deceiving them…
No. He couldn’t think about that. Both Tsuna and Reborn were certain that the man could be trusted. And Gokudera trusted them. It had to work. There was no other option.
None of the men made any move to stop him, which concerned him at first. If they weren’t careful, they could give up the game before it had even started. But then, he realized-Luca must have given orders to allow him through.
He would, after all, be expecting him.
As he passed through the archway and entered the courtyard, he found himself assaulted by a rush of memories. Everything, even the smell of the trees, was familiar. He could see the balcony, on the north side of the building, where Shamal had first showed him the dynamite trick that would one day become his rocket bomb attack. A dozen meters away, he could just make out a thicket of trees where he’d once hid (to no avail) from Bianchi and her latest batch of poison cooking.
This had been his home. He’d lived here and played here. And he had suffered here, also.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered why he had been so compelled to come back. Out of all the plans they could have made, all the actions they could have taken, there had to be numerous options which didn’t involve him impulsively waltzing headlong into what was unquestionably a very dangerous scenario. After everything Tsuna had done to stop him from leaving, there was more than a little irony in his brazenly choosing to return here nonetheless. There were other ways, and certainly ones involving less risk.
But it wasn’t just about taking Luca down. It was about seeing this through. And he didn’t want to just sit back and let others handle it. He was tired of being afraid. He wanted, needed, to let it go.
And the only way he could do that was by confronting Luca one last time.
As he approached the entrance, the great wooden doors opened, and his brother stepped out. He stepped forward as Gokudera drew near.
They stopped about a dozen feet from each other. Gokudera felt the evening wind blowing in his hair, and a shiver ran quietly down his spine. It was only the wind, he told himself. He would not fall apart this time.
This time, he was going to end it. One way or the other.
---
Yamamoto stood waiting on the steps of the fountain.
He could not see, and so would have been unable to describe the place if asked. He could hear the water, but could not see the dozen marble statues from which it poured, stone heads lined all around the fountain’s lower reservoir. He could feel the cool marble of the railing beneath his outstretched left hand, but couldn’t see the stairs leading up to the fountain’s raised upper ring, and its circular central basin. He could feel, too, the approaching night air, but could not witness the surrounding lamp posts blinking into life, casting a golden glow and reflecting off the water’s surfaces.
And he could not see the woman approaching him now, but he could feel her presence; the vibrant, flickering energy of the Sun waves that ran and flowed all throughout her body, as vital and brilliant as his own Rain energy.
The Ninth’s men had dropped him off. They were still waiting nearby-even if he hadn’t been able to sense their hadou, he would have still expected it-but he knew they would not interfere unless there was a desperate need. He didn’t intend for that to happen.
He was aware that coming out here might not have been the greatest idea he’d ever had, but it was something he had to do nonetheless. And strangely, no one else had argued. It felt like they understood, and for that, he was grateful.
Although he had wavered for some time over wanting to be there to help Tsuna and Gokudera. The other two had revealed their plan-well, Reborn’s plan, really-to him earlier that day, and while he had faith that they could and would pull it off-because that’s what they always did-it didn’t quite feel right, not being there by their side in the moment of truth. But both of them had rightfully pointed out that given Luca’s abilities, he would likely be more of a liability than anything else. There wasn’t much he could do to help them out, and conversely there were a lot of ways that his presence there could go drastically wrong.
No, like it or not, he was out of this fight now. And to ensure that this never happened again, he needed to become stronger.
And that, more than anything else, was why he had come here.
“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna come find me or not,” he said as Bella approached the steps.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come out to be found,” came the reply.
“Heh,” he said. “It doesn’t make sense, I guess. But I just felt like I had to, you know?”
“There’s little point to the two of us fighting here now,” she observed. “One way or another, this will be decided elsewhere.”
“Then why did you come?” he asked, curious. Even it was what he had been hoping for, he had to admit that it certainly wouldn’t have surprised him if she hadn’t.
There was a thoughtful pause as Bella reached the foot of the steps.
“Because you don’t strike me as an irrational boy, Yamamoto Takeshi,” she said at last.
“Heh,” he said, not understanding at all. “What?”
“Most men are, you know,” she said, and there was a faintly reflective quality to her tone now. “Especially swordsmen. They don’t know when to back down. Even if they come up against something they can’t defeat. They come at it again and again, and usually pay for it with their lives.”
Another pause. “And they consider that to be honorable. They don’t consider what a waste it is, or think about those they may be leaving behind.”
He frowned slightly. The way she said it almost made it sound like she was speaking from experience. For a moment he wondered exactly what Bella’s story was.
But there was no time to dwell on it as she continued. “People like that exhaust me,” she said flatly. “…But you don’t strike me as being that type. If there was no chance of you defeating me, if it was certain death, I don’t think you would have done that to your people. Not for something as stupid as pride. So, since you’re here, it must mean that you think you can win.”
There was one last pause, and then the sound of a sword being drawn.
“In other words, if you’re here to face me again, it means that you’ve learned how to see.”
And although Yamamoto couldn’t see it, he was absolutely sure that she was smiling.
He followed suit, both in expression, and in drawing his own blade.
“Well?” Bella pressed. It seemed she was waiting for an answer.
“Heh. I hope so,” he replied.
And he could feel the flare of her Sun hadou firing up, clearer than any shifting of a stance or twitch of muscle movement. It was like reading a map. Her wave energy was telling him exactly what she meant to do next.
(I can see your intent.)
Yamamoto grinned as Bella charged.
---
“Hayato,” Luca said. “Have you made your decision?”
Gokudera took a steadying breath, willing himself to focus. This would not go like their last encounter.
“Yeah,” he said. “I have.”
“Really?” Luca said mildly, his tone making it clear that it was not a question at all. “The wrong one, then.”
In spite of his determination-or maybe because of it-there was a restive energy coursing uneasily through Gokudera, made all the more potent by the ominous way that Luca spoke. Rather than try to resist it, he instead allowed it to run its course. It didn’t matter if Luca knew that he was nervous-in fact, if anything it probably helped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came here, just like you wanted.”
“Don’t bother,” Luca said dismissively. “I already know you’re not alone. Did you think we wouldn’t be able to detect the Dying Will flame energy as you approached?”
He made a noise that was half-scoff and half-sigh. “I’m disappointed, Hayato. You didn’t believe me, I guess. But you’ve made a mistake.”
Gokudera felt his nervousness start to dispel into a furious indignation. “You’re the one making the mistake. You declared war on the most powerful family in Italy, all so you could satisfy your own fucked-up need for… revenge, or whatever, for something I never had any control over.”
It still hurt just to think about. It wasn’t like he had asked for it. And it wasn’t like ruining Gokudera’s life could have ever somehow fixed Luca’s own. Gokudera wondered if Luca actually believed that, or if the grudge he bore against their father even now was so sweeping that Gokudera had simply been caught in the crossfire.
Him, and everything else.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” he said. “All so you can have your damn eye for an eye.”
“I don’t care,” Luca replied without the slightest hesitation.
And even though Gokudera had suspected as much already, the starkness with which Luca admitted it, levelly and without even a hint of remorse, was still startling. Even surrounded by his own people, he apparently wasn’t going to deny it.
“You think I haven’t thought this through,” Luca said. “That I’m being reckless, not thinking about the consequences. But the truth is, I don’t care.” There was a caustic, erratic hint of unbalance in his tone as he continued. “I used to think things would be all right, if I could just finally take my rightful place as the heir to the family.” He let out a quiet laugh. “Do you know… it didn’t change anything.”
He locked eyes with Gokudera. “So I don’t care, anymore, Hayato. But I will make you understand.”
Gokudera looked back, unafraid.
“I understand,” he replied. “You think you have nothing to lose.”
And for a moment, that genuinely made him feel sorry for him.
Luca was eyeing him coldly. “Unlike you,” he said.
“…Yeah,” Gokudera admitted after a moment. “You’re right.”
And then he allowed the corner of his mouth to turn upwards.
“It’s like you said. I’m not alone.”
And on that cue, all of a sudden a wall of heavy force-so strong Gokudera could almost feel it from where he stood, even though he was outside its sphere of influence-slammed into the older man, driving him to his knees. Luca grunted under the impact, and then again as the blast increased, driving in deeper, the gravitational pressure flattening the ground and forming a small crater in the middle of the drive.
Luca gritted his teeth as the spiraling patterns of Tsuna’s Oath Flame coiled around him. For a moment, Gokudera held his breath, wondering if it was possible that this could actually work. Could it really be over so quickly?
Then Luca snapped his head toward him, and suddenly Gokudera’s legs and arms were moving of their own accord. He turned to the DiSanto soldier standing closest to him, reached into his jacket, took the pistol from the holster there, and held it up to his own head.
The crushing energy bearing down on Luca suddenly seemed to waver, although it didn’t dissipate. Luca smiled grimly.
“Well? What’s it going to be, Vongola?”
There was no response. Then Gokudera felt his own fingers moving and heard the pistol cock next to his ear.
“You have five seconds,” Luca said loudly, but calmly. “Then he blows his brains out. One… two…”
Gokudera felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck.
Then all at once the gravitational force receded, before vanishing altogether. Luca slowly climbed to his feet, looking slightly unsteady but otherwise not too much worse for wear.
“Not good enough,” he said, a little louder now. “Show yourself,” he commanded as he took a few steps, glancing around. His voice grew louder still. “Unless you don’t think I’ll do it. I admit I’m not sure myself, so let’s find out.” He shot a glance toward Gokudera. “Three… four-”
“Wait,” Tsuna’s voice cut in suddenly.
And there he was, dropping in from his hidden location above, forehead and gloves lit with the bright orange flames of his Hyper Dying Will mode.
Gokudera closed his eyes for a moment and tried to control the sudden franticness of his own heartbeat. This was it. Tsuna was here, facing off with Luca. They were all in, now, past the point of no return.
Once again he forced the fear to run its course. He couldn’t keep thinking about the what-ifs. He had chosen to do this, and so had Tsuna. And both of them had known full well what they were getting into.
He needed to have faith. To trust in the person who had showed him how to trust.
Even if things were about to get much worse before they got better.
“There you are,” Luca said, narrowing his eyes in Tsuna’s direction. He nodded once, indicating the flames on Tsuna’s forehead, then inclined his head in Gokudera’s direction. “Power down now, please.”
Tsuna glared, but did as he was told. Gokudera watched, noting that Luca hadn’t taken control of Tsuna yet. Then again, given the speed with which he had taken hold of Ganauche the previous day, there was no question of whether he’d be able to possess him at a moment’s notice if need be. Clearly he felt confident that there was no need to do so, for now.
“Well, then,” Luca said. “Welcome to my home, Vongola Tenth.”
---
Yamamoto sidestepped Bella’s attack and parried the blow, clasping his own blade in Bella’s own trademark reverse grip. He felt the subtle change in her flames as she came about.
She was impressed, he realized. The shifting flame patterns didn’t just reveal her fighting intent; they displayed other emotions, too. The warmer feelings like pride and passion burned more intensely, while calmer emotions burned at a cooler degree.
And he could see it. And while at first he hadn’t known what to look for, and afterwards had been almost overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of input as he gradually became aware of this once-hidden world all around him, he was getting used to it now, and it was getting easier and easier to interpret by the minute.
It was incredible. Each individual life around him burned with its own Dying Will flame, each with its own color and varying intensity. When he was fully tuned in, like this, it was almost like viewing the world through heat-vision goggles. He wondered if this was what being Superman felt like.
“Very good,” came Bella’s voice. He could see the shimmer of excitement in her golden Sun flames.
He laughed and moved to counter the next blow as well. Then he jumped, moved by pure instinct, seeing the Sun flames run down her arm and through her sword as she moved to slice at his feet.
She switched to a regular grip; he could see the blade’s silhouette outlined in flames as clearly as if he were looking at the real, actual thing. She slashed toward his head and he blocked. Then her right hand abruptly let go of her blade and folded to hook around his blocking arm, trapping it in place, while her left hand caught the weapon as it fell. Having locked him into position, she brought her left hand, now holding the sword, upwards to strike.
But just as she did so, he swung at her with his own left hand, having materialized his second sword blade at the same instant that she’d switched her sword hand. She was forced to release his arm in order to dodge as he swept the blade behind her feet.
Not missing a beat, Bella passed her weapon back to her right hand and spun it around, returning it to the reverse grip position. She came at him again, this time swinging the blade up past his shoulder, and then cutting down at a 45 degree angle, aiming to slice open his chest. He parried with both of his swords in an x block, then angled the blades together in a pincer fashion, attempting to pry her blade from her hands. But before he could manage it, she leaped back, landing a few feet away.
The whole exchange had probably taken no more than ten seconds, but he found himself panting as though he’d just run ten kilometers. “Wow,” he laughed. “That was intense.”
“You’re very good,” Bella acknowledged. “But you’re not fighting back. Are you afraid?”
Yamamoto grinned. “Not really. I guess… I’m just waiting to see what you can really do.”
There was an exhilarated shine to her Sun flames, and he guessed that she was smiling again.
“In that case,” she said, “let me show you.”
---
“…You’re shorter than I thought you’d be,” Gokudera’s brother said, almost thoughtfully. “I suppose you are still a child.”
Tsuna glared back at him. Despite no longer being in his Hyper Dying Will mode, he strangely didn’t feel afraid or intimidated in the slightest. All he felt was anger.
This was the man who had caused Gokudera so much anguish. This was the man who had scared him so badly that he’d almost left them-twice. It nagged at Tsuna even now. It had been entirely too close.
But they had moved past that now. This time, they were ready for him. Even if that hadn’t been the case, though, Tsuna thought that he himself was past the point where he could ever have been frightened by this man. He didn’t care what Luca DiSanto could do, or what he was capable of. All he cared about was making sure that after today, he would never be able to hurt Gokudera again.
“Let Gokudera-kun go,” he said.
Luca raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re making demands? Understand the situation that you’re in, Vongola.”
And then suddenly, almost before he was aware of what was going on, Tsuna was flung into the ground, almost in the exact same manner that Luca had been only a few minutes earlier. Only there was no external force buckling Tsuna. He hadn’t actually been thrown; he had in fact slammed his own body into the concrete with swift, dizzying force.
It took him a moment to realize what had just occurred. It was him, but not him. It was one of the most confusing things he had ever experienced, and for a moment the total disorientation almost blocked out the pain. Distantly, he heard Gokudera’s voice crying out: “Boss!”
Then someone was approaching him, and suddenly Tsuna climbed back to his feet.
He mentally tried to sort himself out. He was pretty sure his hands, knees, and face were scraped, and possibly a little bloodied, but otherwise he felt all right. He had experienced much worse in other battles. It was disconcerting and a little unsettling to not be in control of himself, but this had been expected, after all. He just needed to keep a cool head.
He eyed Luca steadily as the other man came to a halt just a few feet away.
“You see,” Luca said, “unfortunately for you, my brother and I had an arrangement, and he’s just flagrantly violated it.”
He glanced over his shoulder to where Gokudera stood, eyes wide. “Isn’t that right, Hayato? Didn’t I promise you?”
Gokudera said nothing. Luca turned to face him fully. Tsuna couldn’t see Luca’s expression, but he could see Gokudera swallow roughly.
“Give me the gun,” Luca said, and Gokudera stepped forward, hand outstretched to proffer the weapon. Luca took it, and turned it over idly in his hands, as he turned to address Tsuna once again.
“You see, I told him that if he didn’t join me, I would kill you.” He ran a finger over the weapon’s trigger with great deliberation. “So…”
Then he suddenly clicked the gun and pointed it at Tsuna’s forehead, prompting an alarmed cry from Gokudera.
“It’s nothing personal,” Luca said, ignoring his brother entirely. “Except… maybe it is.”
“Don’t!” Gokudera shouted suddenly.
Luca shot him an unrepentant look. “It didn’t have to go this way. You could have said yes, when I first asked you. But you’ve always been willful.”
“He won’t join you,” Tsuna said with sudden fierceness. “Even if you do kill me.”
He expected Luca to respond with more cool indifference. To his surprise, however, when he replied, there was no trace of sarcasm or scorn in his voice; only a hollow, fatalistic acceptance.
“I know,” he said. And then he smiled, in an empty way that matched his tone. “He hates me. Because I convinced our father to keep poisoning him, all those years ago. And because I chased him out from his home, and showed him what the world really thought of him. Because I hated him too, you see. That’s what really bonds us.”
He looked at Gokudera almost sadly, but when he spoke again, his voice held a dangerous, unstable edge. “There’s no mending that, now.”
He eyed Gokudera for a moment longer, and Tsuna didn’t at all like the uneasy expression that had suddenly appeared on Gokudera’s face.
Finally, Luca turned back to Tsuna, and it was plain that the brief flash of melancholy had passed. “So, just so we’re clear. This has nothing to do with persuading him to join me. This is just spite.”
“Luca-”
“Don’t worry, Hayato,” Luca cut Gokudera off. “I’m not going to kill him.”
He lowered the gun… and then looked back at his brother.
“I’m going to make you do it.”
And Tsuna watched anxiously as Gokudera’s expression shifted from unease to horror as he involuntarily stepped forward and took the gun from Luca’s hand.
They had prepared for this, Tsuna thought, willing himself to stay calm. But it was hard, when Gokudera looked so afraid. He didn’t say anything, but his breathing was thick and ragged as he pressed the barrel to Tsuna’s head.
“Any last words?” Luca said.
Tsuna swallowed, not looking away from Gokudera’s eyes.
He knew Gokudera well enough to know when he was acting. This wasn’t that. Even though Gokudera was as aware of the plan as he was, this was still his worst fear being realized, literally being acted out with him helpless to do anything about it. Of course he would be panicked. Of course he would be scared.
“Boss,” Gokudera said quietly. “Tsuna…”
“Gokudera-kun,” he said, with as much reassurance as he could muster, still not breaking eye contact. He couldn’t let himself be afraid, not now. “It’s all right.”
Gokudera stared back. There were tears brimming in his eyes but he blinked them away.
But then his eyes narrowed determinedly. And just for a moment, Tsuna saw a flash of something within him. It was that spark that had been missing ever since the night of the graduation ceremony. That stubborn, dogged, unrelenting spirit that he knew so well.
Somehow, right at this darkest, most hopeless moment, he had found it again.
Tsuna smiled.
And then Gokudera pulled the trigger.
---
Continue to Chapter 10
( Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 )
Additional Notes - *whistles*
…Yeah, so as you can see, this is a considerably more over-the-top cliffhanger than the previous chapter’s “Reborn is proud of Tsuna” moment, lol. Hopefully it won’t take me a week to get the last chapter up. I’m aiming for Monday, but if it doesn’t happen I apologize. It’s just me trying to make sure the ending is satisfying enough, after all of this.
And the Vongola really have a knack for coming up with literally the most dramatic plans possible. Probably a very obvious plan, too, for anyone who knows their MO.