Seven Squared

Lust

Nothing is more beautiful than the sweat-slicked bodies of young men, their movements and their lovely bodies, tight with muscle or youth.

Lussuria's gaze slides over them like so much honey, he enjoys and delights in their very beings, their loveliness.

Like an old man already, some sneer, and shudder away from the eyes he hides with flashy shades.

Most of all he wants others to look at him, appreciate him like he does those lovely, lovely young men.

If there's anything dirty about his thoughts or revulsion sparks from his advances, it means nothing to him, he moves on.

Chastity

Ryohei's life is easy, relatively speaking(or to THE MAX!). There's fighting, and family (both kinds), both of which he loves EXTREMELY TO THE EXTREME MAX, and just fighting, which makes his blood run hot with the simple pleasure of battle and boxing, one against one against yourself and nothing else.

Life reduces itself to these simple concepts for Sasagawa Ryohei:

Boxing is fun. (MAX FUN!)

Tsuna is cool. (EXTREMELY COOL, LIKE A MAN'S MAN!)

Some things are important. (IMPORTANT TO THE MAX!)

He mustn't die, Kyoko mustn't worry.

(Street fighting? UNCOOL TO THE MAX, MAN. It makes his sister cry.)

Gluttony

It's a miracle of forbidden technology, gears and wires and pumps that power a nearly unstoppable killing machine- and always, always, it is not enough for Gola Mosca, like the fly that inspired it's head it does not stop consuming lives, does not stop destroying, using up, for as long as it's lifespan will permit.

Xanxus orders, and like any obedient machine Gola Mosca obeys with stunning clarity.

A weak old man wracked by illness and sorrow shivers in a shell of iron death, while Gola Mosca gorges and gorges on death, destruction.

While Gola Mosca eats his life away.

Moderation

Hibari moves slowly, measured, hungry in a part of his self for battle, for blood. There are herbivores enough around him, he could bite and bite his fill each day without end.

But there is no worth in weak jaws, in soft bellies. Hibari has seen real teeth, real slaughter, and nothing compares but the clash of life and life.

He takes his solace in stillness and precision and anticipation, the cool beauty of quiet, the loveliness of ritual.

Hibari waits because he knows what is worth waiting for- that hunger is the best spice, and revenge best served cold.

Greed

Viper's bank account grows larger each and every month, he watches the digits go up with cold pleasure, he delights in adding to it with sly asides and clever tricks and careful boldness. This body is not enough for him, the Arcobaleno's power unlikely to serve his ambitions for as long as he would want it to.

Money funds his research, cold coin can bring about death or betrayal or love, the only currency worth keeping holds it's value constant as gold.

Money brings power, but where Vipers errs is in thinking that the two are one and the same.

Generosity

Mukuro understands that at the basis of any transaction, lies the principle of equivalent trade, of like things. (Kindness begets kindness, of course- but of all things Mukuro is most keenly aware that pain begets pain, and everything, revenge)
He's not spent so much time away from his body that he doesn't feel the need for one, the need to live longer, to be for just a bit more, the pull of things left undone.
He gives Chrome life, and she gives him hers.
Ask, and you shall receive.

(Keep faith with me, and I shall keep faith with you)

Envy

There's nothing in his life that he is more suited for than to become the thunder guardian, his every particle of being concentrated into this single goal. Only as this can he become what the boss needs, a role only he can fulfill to receive praise only he deserves.

There's no way that a child can do that through pure, dumb luck.

One of the ways to ensure that no one else can fill your shoes is to cut off their feet.

In some royal families, assassination was once considered the only attribute needed to ensure succession to the throne.

Charity

Lambo is a small child, and acts in the way of small children- he is demanding, and selfish, utterly self-centered.

It embarrasses him to think of the way he was- is. Ten years of childhood change a person beyond all recognition.

"Actually," says Nana when Lambo hits his head and the ten-year bazooka all at once. "Lambo-kun was just helping me with dinner."

There are, like he doesn't really remember, the plates moved down to a lower shelf, for five-year old arms.

The arrangement, however, is as familiar to him as old habits, and maybe people don't change at all.

Pride

Squalo has arrogance in platefuls, and there's not many who says he doesn't deserve it. Long hair is a detriment in battle, to leave it free invites an enemy's sudden advantage, but Squalo doesn't care, never will. His left hand, too, is crippled, but Squalo occupies a position far out of reach of more able-bodied men.

Promises mean something to him, and he takes pride in serving a master beyond the reach of men.

But one of the worse jokes in the world is for him to discover that he has honor under the blunt edge of a teenager's sword.

Humility

Yamamoto is ordinary like no other, he gets bad grades but does well in sports, lacks sensitivity but not for friends, has an attractive face and no subtlety whatsoever.

Tsuna, who does not just averagely impressive things but amazing feats of determination, is ordinary and yet utterly remarkable.

If Tsuna is willing to give his life for Yamamoto's, then what does he say about the worth of Tsuna's life that Yamamoto thinks he can end his own life for something as simple as an injury?

Yamamoto is conscious of the honour done to him, and strives, as all things do.

Sloth

Because I'm a prince the killing is endless.

Because I'm a prince, and people part before him, a natural road.

Because I'm a prince, and the wires and knives line up in patterns he can feel in his blood.

Because I'm a prince, he killed his brother to attain a throne.

Because I'm a prince, the wind's movements are as clear as though they were written in stone.

Because I'm a prince, he says, and feels the royal blood in him as a key to open all doors.

Zeal

Piano did not come entirely naturally for Gokudera, he has no perfect pitch, no eidetic ear for sound. Battle does not slide like breathing from every cell in his body, there is no genius imprinted in his genes from birth.

To please the memory of his mother in his father's face Gokudera practiced daily, formed little blisters on little hands, pored over musical scores and worked until it was as natural to him as breathing.

All of Gokudera's ideas start from paper, from his brain he pulls miracles of physics and skill.

Burns, blisters, it's all the same to him.

Wrath

Xanxus lives like a princeling in the Vongola, he enjoys limited power for the promise of absolute power and takes the sky to mean that he looks down on everything.

He's always taken the law for granted, whether it be the laws of men or duty. It's anger that carries his boldness, his pride, anger that fuels his power, anger that leads him to declare war on the man who's called him son and lied every time.

When his 'father' betrayed him, Xanxus felt no sorrow, only fury.

And in an icy prison, his rage festers and burns and consumes.

Patience

Tsuna is one of the downtrodden, the weak and oppressed, he knows what it is like to be mocked, to be hated, he knows only all too well the pain of loneliness and failure.

Especially. Of failure, and he doesn't want any one to feel like he did because no one deserves to, not at all.

This applies to murderers grown in labs and enemies grown from blood, to friends found late and family lost early.

The sky touches horizon to horizon on either side of you, the sky holds you in it's grasp soft as air and as inexorable.