Chapter Nine: Those We Hold In Our Hands

"Ah! Squalo!"

Looking up, Squalo blinked in surprise. The front room was well lit, sunlight streaming in through the windows, and Takeshi bound across it as lightly as a deer. The boy was dressed in casual clothes, a loose t-shirt with some broken English on it and a baseball cap carelessly resting on his head. He grinned, popping up to stand right in front of Squalo. "Good morning! You look nice today."

Squalo looked down at his own borrowed clothes- a simple white shirt and pants with his own jacket from before. Tsuyoshi was only a few inches shorter than he was, but had broader shoulders. Luckily, the clothing fit him well enough to suffice until he was allowed back to his hotel room. Squalo turned his glare to Takeshi. "It's your fault I'm in this get up," he snapped, "If you hadn't snapped yesterday we could have gone and gotten my actual clothing from the hotel."

Takeshi's smile didn't so much as flicker. He simply laughed and rubbed at the back of his head, "Sorry, sorry. But we can go get your things today! I'm sure you'll enjoy staying in Namimori more when you have your stuff!"

"Staying in Namimori?" Squalo repeated. He seemed to be doing a lot of that with the Yamamotos. "Wait, what?"

"Takeshi!" Tsuyoshi called from the kitchen. "No dawdling! Kyoko-chan is expecting you two in fifteen minutes!" He came walking out, a large paper bag in his hands. "Here, take this with you."

"Okay, Dad," Takeshi bounced over and took it. He hefted it against his side, adjusting the strap of his weapon across his back. Squalo was momentarily distracted by the sight of the sword. He hadn't noticed it when Takeshi appeared. Did the boy expect trouble today?

"Superbi," Tsuyoshi said, "There's breakfast at the Sawada house, where Kyoko is watching over your boss and Hayato. I'm sorry for not having any human food for you this morning. It's generally only something I keep in the restaurant."

Squalo shook his head, "It's fine." There were more important concerns than food anyway, "Takeshi said something about staying in Namimori?"

Tsuyoshi smiled, "Don't worry too much about that now. We can discuss that once you've met up with your boss again and I've had a discussion with Atsuko and Chikai." He paused and then explained, "Ah, Atsuko is Ryouhei's mother and Chikai is Kyoya's mother. You see, all this rings and inheritance business has been a bit, ah, messier than we originally thought."

Squalo felt his stomach clench. 'Messier' was one way to describe what had happened the night before. "Right." He said flatly. He really needed to get in touch with Xanxus. It was easy to forget how unsettling Namimori was- at least until he started talking to someone who lived here.

Takeshi took him by the hand, the right one, and tugged him towards the door. "C'mon! Once we go pick up Gokudera we can go see Tsuna at the hospital!"

"Okay, okay," Squalo grunted. He tried to tug his hand free but Takeshi simply tightened his grip. Narrowing his gaze he muttered, "Fine. Let's go."

"Bye, Dad!" Takeshi shouted as he headed out the front door. Squalo sighed and let himself be led away.

The morning was cool. Autumn was in full swing and it showed from the changing colors of the leaves to the scarves that people wore around their throats. Takeshi's hand was warm, his fingers and palm calloused in unfamiliar ways as he held Squalo's hand. Squalo had his other hand shoved into his pocket to keep it warm. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept seeing people staring at them.

As they walked, they passed some kids in uniforms going the other way. One of the boys called out to Takeshi, "Hey! School's the other way around, Yamamoto!"

"I'm not going today," Takeshi said back, grinning. "Tell the teacher I'm sorry, okay?"

"You can't skip school to go on a date," came the reply. "Who is that guy anyway? I've never seen him around here before!" In moments, students began to cluster around them. Takeshi stopped and even Squalo's tugging on his hand wouldn't budge him.

"I'm not skipping for a date!" Takeshi laughed. "I'm going to pick up Gokudera so we can go see Tsuna together."

"Ooo," a female student said, "Yamamoto, you're gonna get in trouble with Hibari-san! He's going to drag you back to school if you skip!"

"Yeah, maybe!" Takeshi shrugged. "I'm not worried though. Hibari probably needs some stress relief anyway!"

"Eh? What happened?" someone asked.

"Does it have to do with the school yard?" asked another kid, "My mom said she saw it was messed up on her hunt last night!"

"Whaat? Who messed up the yard!"

"Hibari-san is gonna be so pissed!"

"Aw man, he's really gonna be upset today!"

Takeshi laughed.

"Takeshi," Squalo said, tightening his grip. The hair on the back of his arms was standing on end. It was sinking in, now, really sinking in, that Namimori was full of ghouls. There were at least fifteen kids around him now. Including Takeshi at his side, how many of them were ghouls?

He was glad he hadn't eaten yet that morning. His stomach churned like he could throw up at any second. "Let's go. We're going to be late."

"Huh? Oh! Right. Sorry." Takeshi beamed at him. "Bye everyone. Squalo and I have to go!" He pulled Squalo through the crowd. Squalo kept close to his side, ignoring the way his heart hammered in his chest and his metal hand itched to pull out his sword. They were just curious children, even if there were ghouls among them. He wasn't in danger. He wasn't being threatened. He had to remember that, couldn't forget it.

"Wait, you didn't tell us anything about him!"

"He's my boyfriend!" Takeshi called over his shoulder, "There's nothing else to know!"

"Yamamoto!" The students cried in disappointment. "You better tell us more later!"

When they were well away from the crowd, Squalo looked at Takeshi only to see the boy rolling his eyes. "They think they should know everything about my life," he said, still smiling, but with a faint bitterness to his words, "Who I date, how I did on my tests, what I do over the weekend, when I'm training for baseball, where I go hunting… They ask and ask and ask the same questions over and over, but they never really listen."

His gaze was sharp as he looked up at Squalo. The lip of his hat shadowed his face ominously, "Were you popular like that in school, Squalo? Did people want to know everything about you but never cared to actually know you?"

"No." Squalo said, "At my school, if you were popular you usually ended up with a literal knife in your back before too long. I would rather do the stabbing than be stabbed."

"Huh." Takeshi blinked. "But you're really pretty. I figured you would have been popular too."

"I had no need for friends," Squalo replied. "I made contacts with other students, but besides Xanxus there really wasn't anyone I trusted."

"Why did you start trusting Xanxus?" Takeshi asked innocently.

Squalo looked away. The words were a heavy weight on his tongue. That sick feeling only grew worse in his gut. They came to a stop at a street corner where the crosswalk sign was red, telling them to wait. Squalo took a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

Takeshi's hand was warm in his. Their fingers were tangled together. The last time that Squalo had held someone's hand like this was years ago, with Xanxus. It had been on the streets of a city like this one, but in the dead of night and they had been running and breathless.

In silence, Takeshi waited at his side, watching his face with those surprisingly observant eyes. As the light changed and they walked across, Squalo worked his tongue in his mouth, considering his words carefully.

"He helped me," Squalo explained quietly. Despite the bright morning, the air was somber between them. Takeshi had stopped smiling and, somehow, that was more disquieting than anything else he could have done. Squalo kept his eyes straight ahead as he spoke. He didn't want to see what expression the boy wore. "I… suffered a great loss. Very suddenly. He saw me acting oddly afterwards and even though we barely knew each other at the time, he asked what was wrong. When I told him… he offered to help.

"The two of us… We went hunting. Without him there, I probably would have died during the hunt. I wasn't strong enough on my own but with Xanxus I was." Squalo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His emotions coiled and uncoiled in his chest, aching and pulling in odd ways. "I've been at his side ever since."

"So," Takeshi said thoughtfully. "You and Xanxus are pack. I mean, you're not ghouls so it's not exactly the same, but it's similar. Right? You bonded over a hunt, a bloodfeast. That's what a pack does." He smiled, small and strange, his eyes distant when Squalo glanced to him, "I did that with Tsuna to join his pack with Hibari."

The word bloodfeast sticks in Squalo's mind like a fly caught in a spider's web. When he thinks of that night (where rain had pelted their backs as they tracked a monster through the tiny alleys of his hometown, where they had hunted with a single purpose split between two minds, where the clouds had parted just as the moon rose and they had found their prey, where they had left, hand in hand, slick with blood that was not their own) bloodfeast seems to fit it exactly. Squalo could almost taste the heavy, iron-sour flavor of ghoul blood in his mouth again. It had been on everything, his clothes, his sword, his face. It had splattered his lips and when he had licked them that unique tang had imprinted itself in his mind.

"A bloodfeast," he murmured. "What a concept…"

Takeshi leans against his side suddenly, eyes bright as he looked up at Squalo. "It's when you share a kill, the first kill of your pack. You kill together. You eat together. No one is more or less than another member of the pack." He grinned, though it looked more like he was baring his teeth than anything. "It's good that you understand. I want you to be part of my pack, Squalo. I like you."

Will you at the same time teach him how to assuage his bloodlust when it rises in his throat?

Squalo felt a bit like he was drowning as he looked at Takeshi. His eyes seemed golden, as inhuman and feral as a wolf's. He could clearly remember seeing the young man coated in blood- a shark's blood but still- and how it had only made the nightmare of facing a ghoul in battle all the more real. After all, hunting a ghoul without the right kind of weaponry was difficult even under prime conditions.

"Takeshi," he began, not knowing where his words would take him. All he could see was Takeshi's bloody face, goggles and mask and red, red kagune curling in the air around him, overlaid that rainy night in Italy.

Tilting his head to the side, Takeshi smiled at him. Again, Squalo heard Tsuyoshi's words in his head.

Will you also take into consideration how deeply he depends on others for attention or affection?

"You barely know me," he ended up saying. Takeshi's smile faltered a little bit. "I barely know you-"

"I really like you," Takeshi insisted. He tugged on Squalo's hand. It would have off balanced him, but he quickly adjusted his footing so he was simply closer and not toppling. "Don't you understand that? We can learn more about each other, that's what dating is for-"

"Look," Squalo turned to face him directly, forcing him to stop walking. He put his free hand on Takeshi's chest so the boy would have to stop and listen. His other hand was still held tightly but he didn't want to let go either. "Fuck, I don't know how it came to this but you need to listen to me right now. Okay? Just… listen to me for a second."

Takeshi nodded silently. His gaze was intent, boring into Squalo. The paper bag crinkled as he adjusted his grip on it but he didn't move away.

"There are a lot of problems with us dating," is what Squalo said. "You're a minor. You're a ghoul. I'm an assassin. I'm affiliated with anti-ghoul people. I don't do well around ghouls in general and I certainly don't do well with aggressive ones. Plus, you live in Japan and I live in Italy. Long distance isn't really my thing, either."

Takeshi opened his mouth and Squalo thumped him lightly with his palm. "No. Quiet. Just listen to me." He frowned at the young man, who nodded again. "The whole situation here is difficult and fucked up. There's the Vongola heir business and the fact that Reborn probably went to Nono and told him everything. Sawada's dad is still Xanxus's target and he and I and the rest of the Varia guardians are stuck her in Namimori, apparently. These are like, the worst conditions to getting to know each other or start dating. This is the kind of fucking situation where you start liking someone because of stress bonding and emotional or hormonal bullshit. It's like an adrenaline fuck after a fight or successful hit or something.

"I don't want you to get caught up thinking you like me when it's the thrill of battle making you eager for my company, Takeshi. I don't want you to pursue me lightly."

"It isn't lightly," Takeshi leaned in, pressing against Squalo's hand. "It isn't! I swear."

Squalo continued as if he hadn't said anything, "Because what I want from you is serious."

"What…" Takeshi's eyes widened, "What do you want from me?"

Squalo felt a smile pulling at his lips and let it. "I want to see you become the best swordsman in the world. Undefeatable. Untouchable. Unstoppable. You have incredible talent and I have so much I could teach you. But that kind of training, that kind of ability? It won't come quickly or easily, but it would absolutely be worth the effort."

Confusion clouded he teenager's expression. "What?"

"Let me train you," Squalo said. "Let me be the one who guides you to your perfected sword style."

"But-"

"Don't get me wrong," Squalo said quickly, "I want to date you too. Right now, when I look at you, I see so much raw potential." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "It's attractive but it's also terrifying. I can't forget you are a ghoul, Takeshi, and that is going to take time for me to move past. I'm not ready to become part of your pack, not yet, but I want to be. Someday."

Takeshi squinted at him. "You're not… You're not rejecting me, right?"

"I am not rejecting you," Squalo told him seriously. "I'm telling you that I need some time to adjust. Things are happening very quickly and right now I need to focus on surviving this situation. Then I can focus on you instead."

"Focus on me instead," Takeshi repeated. He blinked, eyes widening, a blush creeping across his cheeks. "You mean… romantically?"

Squalo licked his lips. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake with this… "Yes. That's what I mean."

"And until then? What are we? What can we do?" With his hand on Takeshi's chest, Squalo could feel him vibrate with excitement.

"We can do things like this," Squalo said, squeezing Takeshi's hand. "Walk together. Talk together. I'll train you with the sword. We'll get to know each other a little more."

"Are we still boyfriends?" Takeshi asked, his voice softer than before. His gaze was all hope. Squalo felt his heart melt just a little.

He bit his lip to keep from smiling stupidly at that puppy-eyed look. "Yes. Fine. We are."

Takeshi grinned at him.

Squalo rolled his eyes and finally stepped away. He felt his own cheeks heating up under the force of Takeshi's bright expression. "Don't get carried away," he muttered, "I'm going to be running you hard with your training. You're going to become the best, Takeshi. The best in the whole world."

Beaming, Takeshi agreed happily.

"Now, c'mon," Squalo tugged on his hand, "I'm starving and we're going to be late meeting up with the others. Take me to Sawada's house."

"Yes, of course!" Takeshi led him away, swinging their joined hands and ignoring Squalo's exasperated sigh.

His heart was still pounding and he still noticed everyone that passed them by, but Squalo felt calmer. A little. Maybe. Still, he'd feel better when he was with Xanxus again and could be sure his boss and best friend was safe.

The morning is cool, but Hayato is comfortable as he sits out on the front porch of Tsuna's house, waiting. He's got a cigarette held between the fingers of one hand while his other is held out for Xanxus to look at. "And this one," he said about the ring on his left pinky, "has a band around the middle with a texture to it. Feel that? It's rough like brick almost. I picked that up in a pawn shop in some alley in, shit, I can't remember the town. Anyway, you get those strike anywhere matches and they'll ignite on that."

Xanxus's is holding his hand in both of his own, which really, Hayato knows should be weird and awkward and kind of embarrassing but he woke up drooling on the man's shoulder. One can only go up from there. Xanxus has half a cigarette hanging from his own lips, the ember burning away steadily and the smoke rising from the corner of his mouth. "Damn, that's pretty decent," he said. "I thought you just used a lighter for all your shit."

"Lighters can run out at the worst times," Hayato said, "And they get confiscated too, but you can tuck the stick of a match behind an ear or in a pocket for emergencies, you know?"

Xanxus taps the ring on his index finger on the same hand, "What about this one? Anything special here?"

"My sister left me that one," he admitted, smiling fondly at the heavy band with the faded scorpion impressed on the side. "She said to only use it in emergencies." He took a drag from his smoke and laughed bitterly, "Did you know? She was called the Poison Scorpion. Everything she cooked turned deadly in her hands. Even a fucking sandwich, Xanxus. She killed one of her first boyfriends after he told her to go to the kitchen and make her a goddamn sandwich and she did."

"Hell," Xanxus muttered, "You mean Poison Scorpion Bianchi? That was your sister?"

"Half," Hayato said. "Same father, different mothers."

"Yeah, I know that shit," Xanxus nods. He runs his finger absently over Hayato's rings and Hayato tries not to stare at the way smoke escapes his mouth. He really does try. "I've got the same thing going on with me and my brothers." He laughs and it's an echo of Hayato's own bitter voice.

Hayato tries not to sink even further in his sympathy for this man, but it's hard, so hard not to. His fingers reflexively grip Xanxus's hand to comfort him. To his surprise, Xanxus doesn't shake him off.

"I miss her," he said suddenly. "Bianchi," he clarifies, "And my mom too, I guess. I mean. I barely saw her, barely knew her, before she died."

Xanxus looks away from him. Draws from his cigarette with a deep breath and lets it out, long and slow. The smoke rises like a misty vapor and the scent of nicotine curls around them both. "Yeah. My brothers weren't always the best family but they were family. And if they were still around, I wouldn't mind it so much."

None of us would be in this situation if they were still alive, Hayato thought but didn't say. You would have never come to Namimori. Tsuna would have never gotten hurt.

He closes his eyes, realizing that he would have never been taken to Namimori either, had Xanxus's brothers still been alive. Reborn had brought him here, after all. Had taken him off the streets and out of the shitty not-quite-legitimate mafia family that he'd been on the outskirts off and brought him here. He shudders against the thought, remembering the anxiety, the stress, the horror that had been his life two years ago.

Xanxus grips his hand tightly, briefly and Hayato blinks, looking up at him. The man has turned towards him again, and gestures to the feathers bound up in his hair with fingers and lit cigarette, "See these?"

Hayato nods. Smoke burns his lungs with his next inhale, but it's a comforting sensation and he's polite enough to turn his head tolet it out as Xanxus explains why he's pointing out the accessory. "My mother gave me the first one, years ago," He talks slowly, as if he's not quite sure what is prompting him to speak but hasn't yet thought of a reason to stop. "I grew up wild, always underfoot and where I shouldn't be. She took the feather from, well, fuck if I know, but she found it and attached it to some string and tied it into my hair."

Turning his gaze away, Xanxus continues quietly, as if talking to himself more than Hayato, "She said something about… remembering to fly the surest way, the way I was meant to go, and not to follow along a tether. She was pretty sick in those days, it was right before we found Timoteo actually, and wasn't always lucid." He gestured with a hand, smoke curling after the ember, following the movement like an afterimage.

"I remember, distinctly, the last words she spoke to me before she left me with my father. She said that no eaglet ever learned to fly in the shadow of it's father's wing." Xanxus shook his head. "It was the most fucking confusing advice, because she was sending me to live with him. He was going to fucking raise me up in his house, with my half-brothers, with his whole famiglia around him, and here she was, letting me go and at the same time telling me what, not to follow in his footsteps?"

Hayato said nothing. He didn't know what to say, really. Watching Xanxus talk was … different. He hadn't really seen anyone else from Italy in over a year. Well, there was Reborn but he didn't count. The baby had been a sadistic bastard who preferred to withhold information for the sheer pleasure in confusing others than sit down and have a heart to heart conversation. Because really there was no other description for what the hell was going on now. It was weird and, honestly, Hayato liked it. He really did.

Xanxus's hand was warm and his words resonated. Hayato would have been more suspicious if not for the fact that Xanxus hardly seemed concerned with his reaction to anything. He was preoccupied with his own thoughts, it seemed.

"I couldn't forget them because they were so fucking weird," Xanxus said, "And they would crop up at the strangest times. Whenever Timoteo did something or asked me to do something that unsettled me, I would remember what she said and do what I thought best."

Suddenly, he grinned. He turned abruptly to Hayato and showed off the feathers with the sharp motion of his head. They flared slightly, and at the same time Hayato saw the bandage on his earlobe, the white gauze showing signs of blood seepage. "Every time I followed her words, I added a feather. Eventually, I had so many I could trade them in and out depending on color or mood. It's the shittiest thing and she'd probably call me birdhead and smack me upside head for it as she laughed, but, hell, that's only more of an incentive."

"Your mom," Hayato asked, "Is she…?"

"Yeah. Long gone. Buried up on a hill near the sea, though she never went when she was alive." Xanxus looks vaguely nostalgic for a moment before he rolls his eyes, "C'mon kid, don't fucking cry on me again. There isn't a point in crying for the dead. They're not here to benefit from anyone's sympathy." He reaches over with his empty hand, thumbing Hayato's cheek.

Flushing, he pulls the handkerchief out from his pocket and wipes at his own face. "Shut the fuck up," Hayato grumbled, "I'm not fucking crying."

"Sure, brat. You just got some fucking dust in your eye." Xanxus laughed at him. "Don't lie to me, you're trash at it. I can see right through you."

Hayato's whole face burns with that statement. Those orange eyes slice through him, even as Xanxus looks at him in amusement more than anything. He ducks his chin and turns his head, but his grip on Xanxus's hand tightens.

"VOI!" A sharp voice cuts through the air like a sword. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Hayato jerks his gaze up to see Yamamoto approaching with Squalo. They're hand in hand, Yamamoto carrying a brown paper bag in his free arm and Squalo inexplicably wearing a baseball cap. "Hey Gokudera!" Yamamoto called, "Were you guys waiting a long time?"

Xanxus pulls his hand free from Hayato's as he stands up. He drops his cigarette to the ground and crushes it under his heel, "Where the fuck have you two been? We have shit to do."

"Shut the fuck up," Squalo snaps. He crosses the yard briskly. Hayato can see him tugging his arm, the one where he's holding Yamamoto's hand, but it won't come free. Yamamoto is just smiling like the absolute idiot that he was. "I was told there was breakfast?"

"Yeah, the girl made some earlier. Go grab something quick." Xanxus jerks his thumb towards the front door. "Did they give you back your phone?"

"Fuck no," Squalo said, "The shitty cloud guardian has it still."

"Hibari will be at the hospital with Tsuna," Yamamoto said with complete confidence. "If you want your phones back you can talk to him there."

"Good." Squalo and Xanxus say simultaneously. They then glare at each other. Yamamoto finally lets go of his hand to reach into the paper bag. He pulls out a plastic container and gives it to Squalo.

"Here, Kyoko-chan's probably inside still. This is for her. Tell her it's from my dad." He beamed at Squalo, who took the box with a huff and stomped past Hayato and Xanxus into the house.

"What's that?" Hayato asks, pointing to the bag. He has a feeling that its-

"Ghoul food," Yamamoto confirms. "I'm delivering most of this to the pack at the hospital. It's the parts from Hibari's hunt last night."

"Hibari's… When did he have time to go hunting?" Hayato frowned. "He was-" Stopping abruptly, Hayato remembers the image of Hibari kneeling on top of a broken robot. That's right. He had ripped it open, stuck his head inside and- The blood drains from Hayato's face, a surefire way to remove any last traces of his blush, as he stares at the paper bag in Yamamoto's arms. "Oh."

Xanxus frowns, looks at the bag, looks back at him and-

"Gola Mosca," Hayato explained. "There was someone in it. Right? Hibari ripped it open and killed them?"

Xanxus's hand lifts to the holster at his side- they took the Varia's phones but left them their weapons, and if that didn't show Hibari's priorities and concerns from the night before, Hayato wasn't sure what would- but he doesn't draw his weapon.

"Right," Yamamoto said. "My dad and some others took care of the butchery last night. The portions are being divvied out accordingly. Kyoko-chan gets some for her help and the rest is going to those at the hospital."

"Fuck," Xanxus whispered, "All right. I suppose letting a body go to waste is… against the rules?"

Yamamoto smiled.

Hayato has the strongest urge to reach out and grab Xanxus by the hand again. He doesn't, but only because he twists his fingers around the silken handkerchief so tightly his fingertips go numb. Xanxus rubs at his forehead like he's got a headache coming on and turns away from them both.

Glaring at the other teen, Hayato declared, "You're a fucking idiot, Yamamoto."

But he only kept smiling and Hayato didn't feel any better.

He really hoped that Tsuna would make it through okay. Yamamoto was even weirder than normal without him around. Tsuna had to be okay. Otherwise… Otherwise…

Hayato stared down at his hands. The monogram on the silk was done in orange, the color of sky flames. He closed his eyes. If he couldn't trust in the life of his own sky, could he at least trust in Xanxus's words? The man had said he would do what he could.

Thinking of the feathers Xanxus wore, the words his mother had spoken to him, Hayato clung to that not-a-promise. Everything would work out. Everything would work out.

It had to. It had to.

Hayato had nothing else in his life, if it didn't.

Of several things, Kyoya was absolutely certain.

The first of these things was that his mother could handle any situation at any time with complete and utter poise.

This was proven by the way she swept into the hospital with every hair in place, her expression showing only the faintest line of worry in the corners of her eyes and the sweet air of concentrated authority curling around her like her faintly floral perfume. Kyoya noticed her instantly, rising to his feet without a second thought. Upon entering the building, she stopped, considered her surroundings and removed her jacket. She held it out and the escort on her right stepped forward and took the garment without a whisper.

The woman stepped back again, falling in line with her counterpart, another woman with a matching suit on and a matching short haircut. His mother's bright red jacket stood out in sharp contrast to the black of her suit, but the color was the same shade as the tie the woman wore.

Chikai spotted Kyoya and gave a small smile. Once acknowledged, he stepped forward to greet her with a bow. "Mother."

"Son," Chikai spoke warmly. Then her eyes fell on his arm, held in its sling, and her smile slipped away like ice melting under the sun. "You did not inform me of your injury."

Stiffly, Kyoya turned his wounded side away from her, even though she had already seen it. "It is stabilized and healing. Ryouhei and the Italian Sun Guardian both administered first aid on me at the location as I said."

She narrowed her eyes and Kyoya held perfectly still, chin lifted, eyes on her face but not meeting her gaze. In silence, she evaluated him. Abruptly, she nodded and stepped forward. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his other cheek. "I am glad to see you are recovering from this trial. You certainly have grown, my son." There was a lightness in her eyes and Kyoya braced himself for her next words.

"On my way here, Fon confirmed your request with me. He is on his way to fulfill his duty." She smiled, clearly pleased, "I told him that once he has completed it, it would be a pleasure to see him here in Namimori once more."

Kyoya grit his teeth together.

The second thing he was certain of was that Fon was far more trouble than he was worth. He had not seen the man-turned-baby in several years. He could have gone several more without seeing him. But- "If that is his reward for his actions, I will tolerate it."

Chikai's eyes crinkled with her smile, "You truly have grown. I am pleased."

He turned away, unwilling to endure her praise for too long lest he reveal just how those words affected him. "Mama is with Tsuna now. Atsuko-san is also here with Ryouhei. Which of the two would you like to see first?"

"Nana," she said.

He nodded.

The third thing that he was certain of was where his mother's affections lay. First and foremost was him, as her son and heir. Secondly was her brother, the irritating and ever transient Fon. Third was her pack and primary in that concern was Sawada Nana. For ten years those priorities had not changed and he doubted they ever would change.

Grimly, he thought of Iemitsu's inevitable return in the aftermath of these ring battles. Chikai had always had little patience for the man but in light of recent events, he hoped that patience would turn into the same hatred he felt towards the man. His mother had been away the last time the oaf of a human had returned to Namimori. Kyoya had been the one to endure Tsuna's resulting insecurity and witness Mama's emotional turmoil.

The bitterness that Iemitsu left in his wake had scratched Kyoya's nerves raw. Multiple times he had considered attempting to try and convince Mama to turn over his body for punishment. When he was around, Kyoya wanted nothing more than to bite him to death, both with tonfa and his actual teeth.

Kyoya exhaled his bloodlust slowly. He stopped at the correct hospital door and knocked, once. "Mama?" He called, "My mother is here to visit with you."

After a moment, the door opened. The room beyond was lit with sunlight more than overhead light. The window curtains had been pulled back to allow for the morning light to enter and arm the room. Mama stood in the doorway, lit up from behind, still wearing that bloodstained pink sweater of hers with wide eyes red from her crying. She didn't even see him, saw only Chikai, and stumbled out into the hallway with tears afresh. "Chikai," she sobbed, embracing his mother.

Kyoya stepped neatly out of the way. Chikai met his gaze over Mama's shoulder and he nodded. As she took the weeping woman away to comfort, Kyoya slipped into the hospital room and closed the door behind himself.

Tsuna lay in the bed, unmoving. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor machine told Kyoya his heart was still functioning. Even from the other side of the room, Kyoya could see the slight fogging of Tsuna's breath on the plastic mask over his mouth and nose. For a long minute, he simply stared at Tsuna on the bed, silent, watching.

It had been hours since the fight. He had been given blood and nutrients. Kyoya had spent the night in the hospital himself. He had been there when the doctors had informed Mama that the organs had regrown properly.

And yet. Tsuna slept on.

Crossing the room, Kyoya took the seat that Mama must have been in, a chair drawn up close to the bed. Tsuna looked pale against those white sheets and his hair was spattered with dried blood. The doctors had cleaned it up from the rest of his body, but the flecks there had been unnoticed. He reached out with his good hand, his left still in its sling at his side, and picked the blood out.

Tsuna was warm. Kyoya briefly wondered if he'd been dead long enough for his body to start cooling and then immediately regretted that. His heart lurched in his chest, his lungs straining for a proper breath. He ran his fingers through Tsuna's hair, brushing it away from his face, feeling the warmth of him, the texture of the locks.

"Sawada," He whispered, "Tsuna."

He trailed his fingertips down Tsuna's cheek and then, slowly withdrew his hand entirely. What if he never woke? What if he never saw Tsuna's eyes open and lit with understanding? What if he never saw that smile again?

Numbly, Kyoya took Tsuna's hand in his own, fingers interlaced. He squeezed tightly, tight enough that his knuckles were white and Tsuna would have complained about the pain if he had been awake. Tsuna didn't react.

Even though he had to relax his grip, Kyoya didn't let go.

For this was the fourth thing of which he was certain.

Tsuna was precious to him.