Foreign Feelings

Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. I don't own any creations referenced, quoted or winked to, either. Basically, nothing but the plot, some forgivable OCs and a sad attempt at poetry.

Rating: T

Summary: Empath!Tsuna. The Sealing of his Flames had a world-changing effect on Tsuna, who couldn't feel any feelings from people, except his closest family (Nana) and a lonely voice that he did not know. Of course, it wouldn't have been so bad if the strongest Mafia Family in the world was better at keeping secrets – notably his existence as an heir. Meeting Reborn – his hired terrifying bodyguard – turned out to be (nearly) everything he needed.

Warning(s): Soulmate!AU. Empath!Tsuna. Adult!Arcobaleno!AU or in which the Tri-Ni-Set takes care of itself. Cusses. Almost!Ten-Year!Difference. A salad of references and a few quotes thrown into the mix (see Notes at the end).

Different and mixed slangs, mostly Irish/British/American (according to the speakers): not used to, well, use them, so I would be grateful to know if some are wrong or don't make any sense. I would correct them if needed. Thanks!

Set in 2004. I tried to keep locations and events as close to IRL as possible, but I might have either voluntarily shifted things to match (or got some wrong, lol). Also, never went to most of the locations, so, artistic liberty, I guess.

Italics: either temporal reference (past/present/future), the usual emphasis, or the indication that the language is no longer Japanese (usually specified).

Characters/Pairing(s): Tsuna, Adult!Reborn, Nana and the list goes on. Eventual R27.

Genre(s): Romance. Mild Drama. Tiny bit of Family. Supernatural/Fantasy. Sprinkled Humor. Pieces of Hurt/Comfort. Fluff?

Length: One-shot. A monster of a one-shot. It was supposed to be part of Guns and Smiles, but well. Too many words.

A/N: By the way, if some of you think it would be better to divide this one-shot in 'chapters' for a question of clarity, please do tell. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy!

"True love cannot be find where it does not truly exist, nor can't it be hidden where it truly does."
by David Schwimmer (Max Abbitt)
in Kissing a Fool (1998)

Past

When Tsuna was still little, no more than four, his mother took him at their temple festival. He did not remember much, aside from bursts of noise, happy and excited, sea of colors, bright and vibrant, and overwhelming emotions. Ranging from infectious glee to heart-wrenching grief, with stains of sickly jealousy and splashes of childish wonder. He also recalled laughing and crying simultaneously, foreign feelings taking hold of his mind, burying and choking his fear until he couldn't even recognize his own emotions from those swirling around him. It was as he was inhumed under their sheer weight that a delicate but saving touch snapped his teary eyes to the soft but strong will of his mother who wrapped around him ethereal arms of concern-affection-love-protectiveness-understanding.

"It's okay." She had whispered, kneeling to be at eye-level. "When you feel like it is too much, choose one of them, take one that feels like a warm hug and don't let it go." She had smiled. "Can you do that for me?"

He had nodded, slipped his tiny hand into his mother's and concentrated as much as he could on her emotions, relaxing slightly.

Two years. Tsuna followed his mother's advice for two years, mending it along the unavoidable discoveries coming with the awakening of the unusual ability. It was easy to carry it to the letter when Nana was around, as she was making no effort to conceal her emotions from her son, and he would bask in her limitless love. It was not as easy when he was too far away from her – in the playground, for example – or when her shoulders were dropping, weighted down by a lonely sadness that Tsuna would understand only years later. Those times, he learned that it was better for him to focus on anything, good or bad, than to get swept into the whirlwind of boredom joy sadness tiredness anger and other complicated feelings that didn't seem to have names. Those times, he learnt to dread them as his own terror inevitably drowned among the others, letting them fill him up until he didn't know if he was the little girl who was demanding for an ice-cream a street away, the long-suffering father trying to resist her demand or the amused ice-cream maker looking on, or the little boy who had frozen in the middle of the sidewalk with an expressionless face and wild eyes. Those times, without the familiar and comforting touch and sound of his mother, there wasn't much that could reach Tsuna and pull him out of the eye of the storm.

Two years where a child learned that it was better to drown in wrenching sorrow than to be consumed by harmful fury, better to be stung by miserable loneliness than by toxic jealousy, better to be hit with cruel kindness than patronizing scorn. Emotions that he did not know, and that he discovered through asking his ever-knowing mother and observing people.

Two years where Tsuna would, sometimes, wonder if he had feelings of his own, real ones, or if he was just something of a mirror for everyone else's.

Then came The Visit.

And the memorable evidence that Iemitsu somehow lacked in the matters of communication and parenting.

Nana had been bustling with excitation and glee for several days, infecting her son. While Tsuna had no idea why his mother was so cheerfully lively, he was happy nevertheless. He was somehow aware that it was his father who was coming home, and it ought to be a delight for him, but he could not muster the sincerity and the energy for it. In his six years of his young life (seven next week), he didn't remember his father, only impressions and blurs, but he distinctly recalled that his mother was always sad because he wasn't there. It was therefore not surprising that Tsuna held little interest over the visit but was nonetheless overjoyed to see and sense his mother so happy.

As he would soon learn to expect in the following years, peacefulness would crash down in the most spectacular manner.

At the door's clicking open and a boisterous shout of exhilaration, Nana vanished from the kitchen where she had been baking to try calming down, and leapt into the arms of a big blond man laughing uproariously. Tsuna pocked his head in the hall, looking bemusedly at the expressive couple and valiantly resisting the overflow of unknown emotions slamming into him. One of them, however, caught his attention as it reflected a sadness that was at odds with the scene. Eyes flicking beyond the lovesick duo, he met kind but veiled brown orbs looking directly at him. He froze up and stared back. Contemplation met his curiosity, and in a fleeting moment as noticeable as the flutter of a butterfly wing against his cheek, Tsuna gained the confusing sense that something would happen – terrible or fortunate, he couldn't tell.

A faint impression that urged him to stay away from the old man and led him to play in the garden with his ball. Basking in his mother's exceptionally good mood, he did not notice the dog before the animal was right in front of him. He instantly stood as still as a statue, eyes flicking to meet the beady eyes staring him down. Tsuna never knew how to react with dogs as he couldn't read their emotions as he could for people nor could he ignore them as he did with cats. Petrified, he glanced down at his ball, the only object between them. He really wanted to get it back, but he didn't know how the dog would react. Bracing himself, he took a step forward and immediately stumbled away when loud barks erupted from its muzzle, teeth gleaming with saliva.

No matter how many times he would later reflect on the memory, Tsuna could not remember how exactly it happened. He recalled the overwhelming impression of danger, truthful or born from his own apprehension, and his impossibility to read the dog's intentions. It was too sudden, and he was away from his mother, no one to help him, nothing to help him and then something in him snapped. Or rather, it swooshed from him with fierce intent and a glaring flare that thoroughly cowed the canine. Wrapped in intangible coils of warmth, Tsuna grew hyper aware of the nearest emotions and moods. The influx of information as well as the unknown sensation cursing through his veins, more than the retreating fear, were too much for him to handle and shocked him to tears.

And while Tsuna did not remember when his father, unaware of his son's empathetic ability but clearly witnessing his pure Sky Flames, had swept him into his arms to try consoling him, he distinctly recalled when the comforting warmth of a thousand of hugs changed into the icy numbness of an arctic lake. How, about waking, he found out that the world had forsaken him by falling silent as he turned deaf to its whispers. How, when his mother awoke to his frantic cries, it was to learn that her gift, the blessing of her line so strong in her son, had been shut off by her husband's blindness and her own foolishness. How it had taken him an entire month to finally be able to sense his mother's moods once again, while remaining utterly oblivious to everyone else's.

No, Tsuna did not remember much about this day. And yet, he could not let go of the sensation of peacefulness and wonderful confidence that had coiled over him snuggly, and the heightening of his senses that let him know and more importantly, understand why his mother was feeling so delighted, why his father had been so proud and content, why this old guest had been so nostalgic and conflicted or why the neighbor had been so irritated over his nephew's clumsiness. For a fleeting moment, Tsuna had been in control over his abilities and he had known who he was.

Until the awareness was wrenched away from him. For this, some days, Tsuna hated his father with a burning passion. Most days, he merely accepted the fact that, no matter how much he screamed or sobbed his frustration out to the heavens, he wouldn't get anything back. So, he learned. He learned to deal with his exacerbated clumsiness. He learned to see instead of hearing. He learned to expect hostility instead of kindness. He learned to read people instead of listening to them. He learned that, even if his gift only worked for his mother, he had nevertheless kept a knowledge about emotions, moods and feelings to protect himself from the world that had suddenly turned against him.

It was when Tsuna had grown used to this reality, that everything changed again.

The day Tsuna discovered his soulmate, it was in the middle of his History class when his chest burst with a satisfaction so foreign from everything he had known, that he simultaneously fell off his chair and banged his head against the desk behind him. The blow was enough to render him dangerously dizzy but could not block how the queasy, twisted, pleasure pushed a string of maniacal cackles out of his gasping lips. The sound had pierced through the sudden silence in the classroom, pouring from his mouth uncontrollably as he clenched his head with his hands tightly, fighting off his own distant shock and fear at the unexplainable feelings.

Nana was instantly called to fetch her son from the infirmary. She listened quietly to Tsuna's nervous and excited babble. When the silence fell again, Tsuna was left unsure, watching in trepidation as his mother's emotions fluctuated in building distress. When she grasped his hands gently between hers and started to talk in a very soft voice, the tone she typically used when explaining difficult or painful matters, he knew that he would not like her imparted wisdom.

Hearing that the one who was apparently destined for you as your closest companion was very probably a bad person, as felt by the dark and twisted feelings he could sense, was certainly not what Tsuna wanted to learn.

He was already half of a mind to actively try to avoid them and find somehow a way to close the apparent link between them. His opinion took a drastic turn when he realized that the emotions he felt – the simmering anger, the sadistic glee or the grim satisfaction – were the only alternative to the otherwise hopeless numbness that drowned everything else. It reminded him too much of the days following the Visit, where his mother had been his anchor, the saving hand that had pulled him away from complete apathy, and he had wondered if his soulmate was alone, wherever they were.

His resolve only strengthened when, the following months, the emotions shifted to include indulgent exasperation, denied protectiveness and budding pride. The latter was different from the usual arrogance, and it took him a few days to understand that it was not brought by a sinister deed but was oddly alike the flicker of delight his mother sometimes had when Tsuna accomplished a task accurately.

For the first time in years, Tsuna reacquainted with hope.

Present

Tsuna stared at the sea before his eyes, water sparkling prettily under the harsh rays of the sun. Squinting against the luminosity, he could make out the slender silhouette of the Giudecca sestiere beyond the Grand Canal and in the lagoon. Ferries were departing to bring their passengers to Giudecca while a flurry of different boats were crossing the lagoon, some seeking to go back up the canal. His eyes followed the hurried pace of the firemen's red boat until it vanished from his sight. Shoulders dropping, Tsuna ruffled his hair as he paced in front of the ferry terminal once again. Looking around, he saw neither hide nor hair of his fellow high school classmates or any of his teachers.

"Face it, you've been forgotten." He muttered under his breath in his native tongue, anxious.

It wouldn't surprise him. He was used to be ignored and treated like air, invisible to all, and had lost count of the number of times he had to remind the administration that he had been present at his classes, despite what most of his teachers seemed to believe. Still, alone in a foreign town, in a foreign country, speaking barely a few words of the foreign language, Tsuna couldn't help but think that had Kyōko or Hana been within his class, he wouldn't have been forgotten. Unfortunately, both had succeeded in entering better schools than him. He was genuinely happy for them, but he still felt rather lonely without familiar friendly faces.

Besides, Tsuna thought as he strengthened warily, he had the foreboding feeling that he was being watched. In fact, ever since he had arrived in Venice, he had dealt with the unpleasant impression that he was being spied upon. The fact that his soulmate's mood was slowly sinking back to its cruel apathy had already managed to set him on edge, the paranoia steadily creeping in his mind was not helping. He was jumpier than usual, as tense as a bow ready to release its deadly arrow. His guts had been twisting sickeningly ever since the beginning of the whole preparation for the trip and had kept on increasing. Not for the first time, Tsuna wondered why exactly the multinational Vongola had offered his school funds for renovation and scholar trips. Why would an Italian corporation be interested in a miserable Japanese school? It didn't make any sense.

His anxiety spiked, abruptly snapping him out of his thoughts. Feigning impatience, Tsuna shifted his stance. Keeping his shoulders low, he leaned back to take on a more casual air. Glancing at his watch and promptly forgetting the hour as soon as he turned his eyes away – not that it mattered anyway as he had forgotten to change the hands to correspond to the time zone – he frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Looking carefully around, he scrutinized the people around him. His eyes lingered on a young man leaning against the façade of a bookshop near his position, attention glued to his phone and fingers smashing its buttons with intent. At first glance, there was nothing special about the guy, looking like any Italian twenty-something-year-old, playing with his mobile. And yet, Tsuna was certain that it was not the first time he had seen him.

Turning away, he glanced back to his watch even as he pondered over his next course of actions. He did not know if it was his paranoia talking or if he was right, but he did not fancy sticking around to find out. Despite wanting to leave immediately, Tsuna forced himself to stay put for a little bit longer. Nervous, he resumed his pacing and kept glancing around and at his watch, continuing to appear as someone waiting for a friend rather than a tourist slowly freaking out. The wait was indubitably driving him crazy, and barely a few minutes later, he exhaled sharply and stilled to breath in deeply.

Tsuna tried to remember what advice had been drilled into their brains for situations like these. He had the faintest idea that he either should try the police station or get back to the hotel. Aware that his Italian vocabulary was desperately poor, and his English was barely better, he figured that it couldn't hurt to try going back to their hotel. Taking a few steps forward, he abruptly stopped. Where the hell was the hotel anyway?

Catching movement from the corner of his eyes, he watched as the young Italian pocketed his phone, slipped sunglasses on his nose and stared into space with his arms crossed. It clearly didn't look suspicious but Tsuna felt a chill crawl down his spine. Making up his mind, he walked away from the ferry terminal with small but purposeful steps, frantically searching his memory for the location of the hotel. It was a gorgeous building, with a luxury that most of them would not know again in their lives, near a rather famous bridge. Which meant that his best bet was to follow the Grand Canal up. Which meant that he would have to pass in front of the other guy. Inwardly cringing, his steps faltered, and he nearly stopped altogether. Should he seek another way? No, it would be absurd. He barely had an inkling that he was going in the right direction, attempting to find another path would ensure that he would be completely lost. Best to stick with his initial decision and carry on.

With a nonchalance that he definitely didn't feel, Tsuna pushed on. He held his breath as he passed in front of the man, resisting the urge to blatantly stare at him. When nothing happened, he fought against glancing over his shoulder multiple times to check that he wasn't being followed. His relaxed posture was too tense to be truly believable, as he held himself stiffly and consciously stopped himself from giving his suspicions away. He walked along the water edge, burying his hands in his pockets and praying that it was merely paranoia born from too much thrillers and stories.

Somehow, Tsuna did not believe his own thoughts.

Grimacing as his path was blocked by the terrace of a restaurant, he sharply turned right and entered the paved Calle Vallaresso. His shoes were almost silent on the stone as he hurried forward. Stuck between rows of ancient houses and apartment blocks, he could feel a beginning of claustrophobia. Viciously pushing down the feeling, he stuck to a group of young students like glue, simultaneously trying to look as if he belonged with them but not hovering uncomfortably too close to be noticed by the enthusiastic group. He paid no attention to the shops at either side of him, slipping away from the group of tourists when they stopped, and continuing forward without looking back or slowing down.

Reaching an intersection, Tsuna hesitated. He knew that the Grand Canal was partly behind him and curved at his left. He could either take the next street parallel to the one he just left or turned left now. Absently glancing left, he crossed the arches of a shop, avoiding stepping into the circle of sunlight of the street. Making up his mind, he continued until he found the next immediate path at his right and took it, glancing up to see its name of Calle Frezzeria. He ignored the other intersections, following a Spanish couple talking animatedly in their tongue, noticing that both had shopped in the luxury boutiques now behind them. A few minutes later, he was walking past them, casting looks around him in, he hoped, believable curiosity. In truth, he was attempting to use the numerous vitrines to catch a glimpse of his potential stalkers.

To his horror, he caught sight of the same youth in the window of a glaziery-mirror trader. Tsuna tripped over his own feet in his haste to put some distance and collided against a strong chest with a quiet exclamation. Looking up, he stuttered an apology in a comical mix of Italian and Japanese. It was nothing short of amusing and slightly endearing, until he noticed that the passerby was staring at him with a disturbing focus. The look was enough for his voice to die, a block of ice dropping into his stomach.

"It's okay, kid." The Italian man, undoubtedly older than him, feigned to reassure him in his tongue. "How about strolling with us for a bit, huh? You're a tourist, no? We could show you around."

Not understanding a single word, Tsuna flicked his eyes between the speaker and his two friends. The crowd waving around them was none the wiser of the tension between the quartet, soon joined by a fifth member leisurely coming. Realizing that he was on the verge of getting cornered, Tsuna stopped thinking. Adrenaline surging through his veins, he stumbled a few steps back with a hesitant smile, widening his eyes in confused cluelessness, and launched himself against the speaker. Taken off-guard, Tsuna managed to jostle him aside, enough for him to break into a sprint.

For once grateful that Venice, and currently San Marco, was such a maze, Tsuna let his eyes, feet and guts guide him. Turning right, he took the Calle Salvadago without missing a beat. Behind him, he could hear one shout some incomprehensible directions while two pairs of feet took after him. Right, they had split off, determined to use their knowledge of the grounds to ambush him, no doubt. Needless to say, Tsuna had very little chance to find his way without bumping into one of them. Resisting the disastrous itch to look behind him, he forced himself to concentrate only on his run. He ignored how his bag was bumping uncomfortably against his back, slipping between people with the ease of practice and snaking between indignant couples with a wince. He listened as his pursuers shoved their way through, slowing down in the crowd.

At the intersection, Tsuna completely ignored the adjacent street, guessing that the others were coming from this direction. Instead, he continued to run the Salvadago street, bursting in an open space. Catching his breath, he flicked his gaze around, debating over following the same path or trying to tag along a group already on a gondola ready to cross the Bacino Orseolo. Curses reached his ears behind him. Glancing, he noted that two of his pursuers were coming from the side of the canal while their friends were still struggling to pass through the crowd of the narrow street. Eyes flicking back in front of him, Tsuna sighed before taking a deep breath. In the end, he would do neither.

Feeling both incredibly foolish and desperate, he fervently prayed that he would not remarkably miss his mark. Putting on another sprint and before the bewildered and shocked eyes of crowd, gondoliers and pursuers alike, Tsuna pushed on his right leg to jump on the railing and using the momentum, strained on his left to propel forward. For a fleeting moment, he was suspended between sky and sea. Until his arms shot in front of him to grab the wooden pole emerging. Wrapping his legs around it, he clung to it for a few seconds, eyes blown wide in incredulousness, barely aware of the startled cries of shock, offense and wonder. Not giving himself enough time to second-guess his actions, he hauled himself up until he could somehow crouch unsteadily at the top.

Feeling as if he had suddenly fallen into a video game, Tsuna leapt to another one, frowning deeply as he focused on the last one. He had no time to lose, expecting his pursuers to either imitate him or reach his destination before him. With a last trembling effort, Tsuna threw himself against the Sotoportego del Cavalletto Bridge. Panting and wriggling his legs, he managed to climb over and fell on the stones. Stumbling up on his feet, he paled when he noticed that one had forewent the tiring exercise of balance and speed to dive into the nasty water, while the three others had split off once again. It didn't take him long to see the reachable edge his swimming glue-pot was targeting.

Tsuna didn't waste another moment. Exhausted but fueled by both adrenaline and fear, he threw himself into another reckless run. He forced himself to pick up his speed, knowing that it could be his only chance to vanish from their sight. He hurtled into a small square, barely noticing the gorgeous architecture at his left, instantly zooming on the left street instead. Crossing the space, he took the Calle Sangallo and grinned when he realized that this bridge, with a long unpronounceable name, had led him back to the Bacino he had just left. The people were still buzzing with chatters over his – and his pursuer's – acrobatics.

Sparing no one a look, he dived back into the crowd and narrow path between rows of ancient stones, leaving the sunlight to the shadows. Tsuna drastically slowed down, deciding that it would be better for him to try blending in than to persist into exhausting himself by running around like a headless chicken. He removed his blue jacket and crammed it unceremoniously into his backpack, walking blindly. He turned right at the next intersection, vaguely aware that he was somehow heading towards the right direction. Glancing up at the walls, he caught the name of Calle Barcaroli but paid it no mind. He was incredibly tempted to snatch a cap or a hat somewhere, somehow, to hide his noticeable brown spiky hair. To his disappointment, he found none.

At the corner of the next junction, Tsuna caught sight of several scarfs. Contemplating the idea for a split-second, he turned right but did not give in the impulse to take one. Instead, he continued at a faster pace, slipping his bag in front of him. He crossed the Ponte dei Fuseri and glanced back as he did so. He didn't see any of his chasers but didn't dare to relax. For twenty glorious minutes, Tsuna walked calmly, rubbing absently his right thigh. His muscles were burning from the effort. All he wanted right now was to crash down on a comfortable bed after a hot and relaxing shower at the hotel. No, even better, he wanted to crawl on the sofa beside his mother to share the quietness of an evening spent looking at movies without any of the craziness of the day.

Tsuna sighed as his chest panged painfully at the lack of feelings nor mood from his link with his mother. Of the two people he could still sense, Nana was too far away for him to reach. To the contrary of his soulmate whom Tsuna could always feel, whether he wanted or not. Crossing another square, he frowned as he was once again absorbed into the shadows of the stones. Speaking of his soulmate, their mood had shifted since the last time he had checked. There was a spark of curiosity, almost intrigue, beneath the usual disinterest. Tsuna wondered if it was a good sign. From what he had picked on over the years, his soulmate was rather prone to obsess over whatever hold his interest until he grew bored and tossed whatever it had been aside.

Turning once again, Tsuna entered the Calle del Teatro and breathed a sigh of relief. He recognized his surroundings, knowing through a visit that it was the Teatro Goldoni at his left. He still had a bridge to cross, as well as a few more long streets to walk down, and he would soon arrive. It took him a dozen of minutes to reach the Campo San Salvador, on the other side of the Ponte del Lovolo, and he instantly stiffened. Paling, he ducked inside the first shop he could see – a hat shop, ironically enough. The prices were way too high for him to contemplate buying one, so he settled for observing through the vitrine. Biting his lips, he looked as his pursuers patrolled the square, carefully looking at the different streets. Widely, Tsuna feared that they knew where he was staying.

And yet, he couldn't stay there. He could retrace his steps back, but if he really managed to find another way that would not involve crossing this square, he had no idea how long it would take him. He neither had the patience nor the energy to roam the streets of San Marco, no matter how lovely they were. Besides, there was also the slight chance that his teachers had begun to question his absence. In this case, they would call the hotel to make sure that he was not there. He needed to get to the hotel as soon as possible.

Gnawing on his lower lip, he observed the tourists and strollers. Maybe he could try to blend in? He knew how to imitate behaviors thanks to his ability and his self-preservation instinct from his childhood. There was the huge risk that he would be recognize on sight, though, no matter how good he acted. Glancing back at the hats on display, he cringed at the prices, once again reminded that he really couldn't buy anything there. It was as he looked back at the street that he spotted a potential way out. Not giving himself another chance to talk himself out of it, Tsuna left the store and tagged along the large group of middle school students following their own teachers and a few parents.

Tsuna thanked his luck for his short height, permitting him to slip among the younger students without standing out. Some of them were even taller than him. A parent shot him a startled look at his appearance but didn't protest otherwise, clearly taking him as a student from some nearby school and not as a menace magnet. Edging towards the towering students, Tsuna managed to insert himself between them and a teacher, feigning to listen to their prattle and chatter. It was in Italian, as expected, but it didn't matter. Ducking his head, Tsuna forced himself to not try looking for his hunters. Any eye-contact would burst his bluff.

Dutifully following the lead, Tsuna felt his back grow painfully stiff, and he had no doubt that he was going to have an uncomfortable crick in his neck. It would be the least of his worries if he got caught, so he ignored his discomfort with all his might. When the group paused in front of the church to listen to a lesson, Tsuna thought that he was going to burst into hysterical tears at the sheer pressure of succeeding. Biting his cheek until it bled, he managed to reign the impulse in. He stood still with the other students for half an hour, beads of sweat rolling down his back as he strained his ears to know if his trackers had noticed his presence. When the group moved to enter, he followed numbly, only aware that he couldn't be left alone outside.

The fresh and solemn atmosphere of the church was as soothing as a cool shower raining down gently on him. It was so sudden and different that he tripped. Feeling bizarrely almost guilty to be inside, considering that he was not there to pray, Tsuna glanced frantically around. Finding one of these discreet side doors, he slipped away from the other students unnoticed and forced himself to walk calmly. Taking hold of the iron handle, he tugged on it as silently as he could. To his relief, there was no creaking protest. It opened easily enough, and Tsuna wasted no time to vanish outside. He stumbled out in the Calle delle Acque. Pausing, he took a moment to merely breathe.

A sharp whistle from a master commanding her dog back at her feet startled a jelly-legged Tsuna into motion. Trembling, he set off wobblily and walked up the street. When he reached the intersection, he almost ran. He wanted so much to be done with this sick hide-and-seek game that he almost gave himself away. Instead, he waited for a group of at least five individuals to pass by him. Then, using them as a shield, he continued up in the Calle Larga Mazzini with the automatism of physical drain. When he took notice that he was at the Grand Canal once again, he turned right at the ferry terminal and went towards the Rialto Bridge. He did not even notice that one of his teachers was waiting there, meaning that he had been at the wrong terminal since the beginning. No, all he could see was the luxurious hotel nearer than ever, but still too far.

When Tsuna blessedly passed the doors of the sumptuous hotel with the look of someone who was on the verge of either laugh hysterically or pass out on his feet, he stilled in the middle of the hall. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head towards a lone figure, wearing a black and white suit with a corresponding fedora, leaning back comfortably against a leather couch. Tsuna took note of the chilling smirk and gleaming shadowed eyes.

He faintly wondered if his escape through this maze of streets had been pointless, after all.

"Welcome," a female voice greeted him pleasantly, and Tsuna flinched, whipping his head away with wide eyes and a quiet squeak tumbling from his lips. "May I help you?"

He stared blankly at the smiling woman who had addressed him. Guessing her meaning from her tone alone, he opened his mouth to reply and promptly shut it when he realized that he could not make a sound, let alone enunciate an intelligible word.

"Yes." A baritone answered for him, a calloused hand settling down on his shoulder with the lightest touch and the heaviest command. "This young man here wishes to switch rooms."

The staff member, most likely one of the receptionists, blinked at the request. Her smile faltered minutely, and she looked genuinely troubled for a few seconds.

"Has something happened to cause any problem?"

Tsuna stayed still, offering her an uncertain smile when she glanced at him. The taste of blood on his buds was making him nauseous.

"Nothing of the sort, rest assured." The man holding him put eased her smoothly. "He merely wishes to extend his stay in our marvelous city, and as he knows that his companions are leaving in a few days, he believes that moving early to another room would be less trouble than to try at the last second."

"I understand." She smiled. "Which one has drawn his attention?"

"If the rooftop studio is still vacant, he will be glad to book it for the following weeks." His free hand vanished briefly inside his jacket pocket to hand a very familiar-looking key to the receptionist. "He will vacate immediately the room if it is possible."

She nodded. "I believe that the studio has not been booked." She retrieved the key graciously, missing the fleeting horrified look crossing Tsuna's features.

The grasp on his shoulder turned painful, dissuading him from moving. The receptionist joined her colleague at the front desk, exchanging a few words. She came back with another set of keys.

"Under which name should the reservation be noted?" She asked even as she passed them to the man.

"Sinclair." The smirk widened slightly, even as he inclined his head in a polite nod.

Tsuna's eyes flicked between the two adults, tuning out the incomprehensible words. From what he had seen, he had understood that his room was no longer his. He was wondering if the frankly frightening man had managed to persuade the staff that Tsuna was not a client and therefore making him lose the only place he felt at least slightly safe. He stiffened when the receptionist left them alone. Swallowing, he controlled his breathing to prevent it from quickening when he felt the other dipped his head down. The fedora brushed against his locks and he wildly thought that, at least, some of his hair would be found on the fabric to incriminate his potential murderer.

"Follow me," his might-be assassin ordered him lowly in a stunningly accentless Japanese, "and in silence."

Tsuna didn't dare to disobey, falling into step beside his now-kidnapper. He kept glancing around, hoping that someone would catch his pleading eyes, but no one looked at them. Extremely stressed, he tripped multiple times on their way to wherever it was they were heading. At some point, the man clicked his tongue in disapproval and grabbed his forearm in a strong grip. Tsuna was certain that he was going to have bruises and he prayed that he would live to feel them for as long as the time for them to heal was needed. He couldn't appreciate the sight of the magnificent palace they entered, stomach heavy with dread and mind swirling with unanswered questions. They were greeted by a porter on their way who informed them that their baggage was already upstairs, oblivious to the sheer distress exuding from Tsuna's every pore.

Clearly distrusting Tsuna to keep his balance on his own, his abductor instructed him to lead the way. Climbing the stairs and forced to ignore the lift, Tsuna grimaced at sensing the other behind him. His fingers played with the keys nervously, making them jingle. Distracted, he stubbed his toes against a step and tripped. He would have fallen face first had the man behind him not slipped an arm around his torso to hold him up.

"Your clumsiness is astonishing."

Unnerved by their closeness and acutely aware that a firm palm was pressing over his thunderously pulsating heart, Tsuna bristled at the comment.

"Not as much as your lack of manners." He snapped back, twisting around to narrow his eyes in a glare.

He paused as his thoughts caught up with his mouth, and he paled. To his utter surprise, his kidnapper merely chuckled.

"Asking for my name without introducing yourself first?" His tone clearly implied that between the two of them, it was Tsuna who was the rude one.

Admittedly, pointing out that someone was impolite was not the polite thing to do, but neither was abducting people. Reflexively drawing strength from his link with his soulmate, somehow trying to distract himself from his lingering fear by overwhelming it with faint amusement and scant curiosity, Tsuna frowned at the other.

"I very much doubt that you don't already know who I am." He dryly replied. "Why else would you have dragged me there?"

"Dragged you, huh?" The man repeated thoughtfully, and because he could, he pulled Tsuna – who had unbelievably forgotten their position in his indignation – closer, successfully trapping him in unrelenting arms. He smirked in unconcealed entertainment when Tsuna squirmed uneasily, flustered. "Whyever would I do that?"

Cheeks reddening in embarrassment, Tsuna narrowed his eyes in another glare, trying to ignore how he could practically feel the other's breath falling on his lips. He inwardly scowled when his soulmate's amusement spiked, irrationally thinking that they were enjoying his predicament – which was stupid, considering that his soulmate was unaware of his existence, much less of this link.

"Shouldn't I be the one to ask you that?" He retorted with a meaningful raised eyebrow. "Who in their right mind would snatch up a nobody like me?"

Somehow, his words sobered the man. Dark eyes searched his for a few long seconds, reading brown orbs with the ease of a literature expert scanning pages of a well-known book.

"Climb up the rest of these stairs and open the door to get your answer." He finally commanded Tsuna – again.

Tsuna was so abruptly released that he stumbled, but to his relief, he righted himself without any assistance and before falling to an untimely death. The short exchange had somehow settled his nerves down, reducing his clumsiness to his usual level. Reaching their floor, Tsuna barely hesitated before introducing the key to the keyhole and opening the sturdy door. If he wanted answers, it was apparently the only way for him to get them. His anxiety came back at full force at the thought. Taking careful steps inside, he had to acknowledge that it was a gorgeous rooftop apartment. He glanced at the exposed beams with something akin to wonder before a click behind him startled him. Whirling around, he watched as the man pocketed the keys and gestured for him to sit on a couch.

Eyes flicked around, catching the reddening hues of the sky through the panoramic windows. Tsuna absently wondered if his teachers had finally taken notice of his absence and were starting to panic. For some reason, he doubted it. Smiling bitterly, Tsuna perched on an extremely comfortable couch. It took him everything to resist bonelessly sinking into it, aware that the day had exhausted him. Stiff in self-imposed discomfort and wariness, he kept his eyes on the stranger standing in front of him.

Now able to properly catch his breath, Tsuna slowed and deepened his respiration. He recalled his mother's advice, when he was little so long ago, and latched into the first stable emotion he could sense. Obviously ignoring his own apprehension and anxiety, as well as budding frustration, he brushed inquisitively his link with his soulmate. The amusement from earlier had already faded, only leaving contemplation and curiosity in its wake. Figuring that the latter was less likely to boost his own inquietude, he welcomed the wonder. His shoulders relaxed even as his attention sharpened on his surroundings, and most importantly, on the man with an undeniable intimidating aura.

Inwardly scoffing at the understatement, Tsuna bit his wounded cheek pensively, tasting blood once again. Mimicking the appraisement he was being subjected to, his eyes swept over the mysterious figure silently observing him. Even without touching or getting closer, Tsuna knew that from the fedora to the black shoes, the clothes were extremely expansive, from the quality of the fabric alone. The style was elegant and classic, clean and neat, and he wouldn't be surprised to learn that the same outfit hung in several copies in an absurdly huge walk-in closet. There was no doubt that he was several head smaller than his abductor, and considerably skinnier. Not to say that the stranger was bulky, but his lean silhouette let appear a litheness that spoke of power and combat-knowledge.

Without getting into specificities any further, the man was handsome, indisputably. And yet, he was not as gorgeous as he could have been. While Tsuna couldn't read him as much as he would have liked, from what he could, he suspected that pleasantness and gentleness were not strong points. There was a lingering sadistic cruelty twisting his arrogant smirk, a harsh line of taunting sarcasm stretching his lips otherwise and a distinct indifference as well as a sharp guardedness at the corners of his ebony eyes. No matter that his skin was tanned attractively from his lineage or that his features seemed both delicately carved and unexplainably as smooth as marble; his hands were calloused with ruthlessness and not with caring labor and he held himself with an icy distance that chilled everyone.

A lack in humanity that was not flagrant until insightful eyes strained to observe and notice, that most would ignore or be oblivious to, and with the distraction of a lovely baritone voice conveying eloquent illusions, the glamour was perfect. At this point, Tsuna suspected that the man had made no effort to conceal, instead offering a chance for him to notice and act accordingly. There would be no second opportunity, and if Tsuna had been any less observant or intuitive, he would have missed the cues and clues.

The man tipped his fedora down, in acknowledgement of the appraisal, to end the moment. His stance closed up further, and Tsuna blinked with the disturbing impression that someone had turned off the intangible lights and shut off the door.

"You were correct in assuming that I knew your name, Sawada Tsunayoshi." The man began impassively. "For the sake of convenience, call me Reborn."

"Nice to meet you." Tsuna settled for replying in the short following silence, not really knowing what to say as he was merely waiting for explanations, thinking that manners, at least, could not worsen the situation any. And then, because his self-preservation had apparently decided to take a vacation, he added, "though it would be truer if I wasn't under the impression that I will curse your name in a few minutes."

The smirk showed up once again, and yet, his features did not appear malevolent, merely annoyingly amused.

"From your earlier words, I assume that you have no knowledge of the identities of the men who had chased you down." Reborn carried on, otherwise ignoring his remark. "And yet, you surely have started to formulate theories, haven't you?"

Tsuna briefly wondered why Reborn was bothering asking when it was obvious by his tone that he was convinced of the fact. Besides, what Tsuna was most interested to hear, was how his more-than-abductor knew about the incident. Surely, the commotion was not as unusual as to bring the whole city's attention on it? He couldn't have been the only tourist being chased down by petty criminals and managing to get away by being a bit daring, could he? As the other was waiting for his answer, Tsuna blurted the first thing that came to his mind.

"Bored members of a gang?" He shrugged and fidgeted in unease at the unwavering stare. "It was not as if I have a clue as to why they hunted me. I doubt that common muggers would bother harassing a tourist to that point."

"It didn't take you long to consider organized crime," Reborn pointed out, and he quirked one of his eyebrows. "Italy and its mafia, is it?"

Tsuna frowned, leaning back unintentionally. "What, are you accusing me of falling into the trap of clichés?" He paused, narrowing his eyes. "You can't be telling me that they are part of the Mafia."

"Haven't you told me that you didn't believe that they were mere petty thugs?"

"It is more likely that I'm wrong, than them being mobs." Tsuna protested. "I am a nobody, I don't even understand or speak a single Italian word aside from buongiorno, grazie and per favore. What would the Mafia want to do with me?"

"Simple." Reborn took a step forward, eyes fixed on his expression. "You are one of the heirs of the most important Family in the underworld."

"What." Tsuna gazed blankly at him, his features quickly changing and fixing him a highly incredulous look questioning his sanity.

"For reasons that have yet to be determined, your identity has been found out by several opposing Families, and your head is now subjected to quite a hefty bounty." Reborn was unfazed by his reaction, continuing casually. "As you have guessed, hopefully, your little trip in our fine city is not a coincidence."

Ignoring the dry teasing, Tsuna focused on the last point, pushing temporarily away the fact that his death was apparently actively sought. "So, Vongola?" He ventured. "Vongola is the Family who…" he hesitated, wondering about baits and traps, Reborn's role in this, and concluded, "wants me alive?"

"Oh?" Reborn tilted his fedora up. "Why would you presume that Vongola is an ally, and not the brains behind the attack?"

"They have the resources to off me in my home, why bothering with a trip?" Tsuna then blanched and he sprung on his feet, eyes wide and wild in panicked worry. "Home! My mother! She doesn't know, she has no fucking clue about this freaking mess, I need to – "

A hand wrapped around his bicep, succeeding in stopping him short. He winced at the strength, knowing that he was likely to form bruises on his pale skin. Snapping his head up, he almost recoiled at the severe look he was receiving.

"Sawada Nana is being taken care of." Reborn cut off any of his protests before they formed. "Besides, there is nothing you can do for her. You should be focused on your own predicament."

"It's my mother." Tsuna narrowed his eyes, struggling to get out of the hold. "I'll be worried whether you want me to or not, whether I can help her or not. She is family, and there's nothing more important than her."

"It would put you at ease to know that your father is personally ensuring her safety, then." Reborn carefully watched the teen, gauging the effects of his words and already confirming his suspicions.

Tsuna let out a humorless laugh, throwing him a highly doubting look. "My father? You mean, the guy who has abandoned wife and son years ago for an illegal job that will cause his death and we'll never know about it? The guy who screwed up so badly that he is the reason why everything has always been so difficult, and apparently, why the Mafia wants our deaths? You're telling me that, that guy who I would not trust even if he was my last chance, is responsible of my mother's safety?"

Reborn nodded. "Iemitsu is a failure in more ways than one," he acknowledged readily enough and Tsuna suspected that Reborn certainly liked Iemitsu as much as the teen did – not at all, that was. "Yet, he is competent in his work. Surprisingly."

"He truly is the reason why Vongola considers me an heir." Tsuna realized when he was not contradicted. "Why me? I'm a child, he's an adult. Why can't he be chosen?"

"Family politics." Reborn answered evasively. "Besides, you are not, strictly speaking, the heir. Nono still has a legible son, and you are merely a last resort in case he doesn't survive his plight."

"Wonderful." Tsuna rubbed his forehead tiredly, sighing. "We've got the Mafia on our back. Great, absolutely delightful." He glanced at Reborn. "And what are you in this ridiculous scheme? My knight in shining armor?"

Reborn smirked at his sarcasm. "Hitmen can't be saviors, I'm afraid."

"Hitmen?" Tsuna repeated in a faint voice, eyes widening.

"Don't worry, darling, I will content myself with the blood of your enemies." Reborn leered at him in obvious mockery, entertained by his appalled reaction.

The echoed amusement of his soulmate did nothing to comfort Tsuna, who wrenched away from the hitman with a deep scowl, wondering if the situation couldn't get any worse.

(Of course, it could. Of course, it did.)

Tsuna couldn't sleep. Not for lack of trying. Wriggling beneath the light cover of the bed, he cast a glance at the nearest window, finding the shutters closed. Shutters that he had himself ensured that they were completely blocking the pane. He knew that it was only logical, to hide and to prevent deadly opportunities, but he could nevertheless regret not seeing the venetian night sky. The air was stuffy, both because of the heat of the day lingering and because of the threat looming over him. The atmosphere was too intense for his body to relax, his mind even less. Giving up, Tsuna kicked the blanket away and sat up.

Eyes flicking to the door left ajar, open to the darkness of the living-room, he hesitated. It was so odd to share an apartment with someone without being able to read them. It had been uncomfortable with his classmates, but despite not sensing their emotions, their moods were blatantly expressed. Reborn was another matter altogether. The hitman had taken to tease him as often as he liked, steering their discussion away from its original point despite Tsuna's constant questions, and had laid down some rules.

Bending over, Tsuna felt around for his socks, eyebrows frowning.

"Still awake?"

The baritone voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he snapped his head up with a squeak, a sock clutched in his hands. On the threshold, Reborn leaned against the frame of the now-open door. Even in the obscurity of the room, Tsuna could feel the piercing eyes locking gaze with his.

"Yes," he nevertheless answered, needlessly. "Can't sleep."

"Scared?"

"No. Yes. Maybe," he scrunched up his nose, frustrated. It was not as simple as a matter of fear. Obviously he was afraid, it was his life that was on the line. And yet, it was not the main reason behind his agitation. "There's something else."

He thought of his worry for his mother, keeping a great portion of his mind buzzing with fretting and endless queries. He thought of his bond with his soulmate, thrumming in focus, curiosity and ruthless determination. He thought of his own wonder, bewilderment, annoyance, wariness and fear over the situation in general. He thought of his agitation, making his fingers twitch and his blood rush into his veins, and it clicked.

It was anticipation. Dreadful anticipation.

Tsuna slowly put on his socks and rose from the bed, facing the shadowed figure statuesquely waiting for him to develop.

"Something's going to happen." He told Reborn with quiet certainty, having since long stopped to question his intuitions. "Soon," he added.

When the front door banged open, he jumped at the resounding racket, but couldn't bring himself to feel any surprise. Fluidly, Reborn entered the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He locked it with a careless shrug and went to the windows, deftly opening the shutters. He beckoned Tsuna closer with a hand who in turn, threw him an incredulous look. They were in the attic, at a height way too important for the teen to consider defenestration, whether by the hitman's hand or his own volition.

"Unless you are as idiotic as you are clumsy, you won't fall to your death." Reborn's words were harsh and mocking. "There is something called a roof at a distance close enough that even the most pitiful jump can cross."

Tsuna sent him a glare, barely refraining from crossing his arms on his chest.

"Of course," Reborn carried on when the teen failed to come closer, the sound of tear gas being thrown and released in the studio coming from behind their door, "you can also choose to stay put right here and watch me single-handedly slaughter an entire squadron of mobs. I decline any responsibility for the potential wounds you might receive, nor the trauma that you will suffer throughout your life."

"Alright, fine." Tsuna snapped, approaching and deliberately stopping his imagination from picturing the scene, aware that the gas was starting to seep in through the interstices.

He climbed on the windowsill, wondering if he wasn't going mad to put his trust into the hands of an indifferent murderer and listening nevertheless to his orders, and squinted. As expected, the night was concealing the roofs of every street, and the only light came from the lonely windows of insomniac inhabitants and street lamps beneath. Somewhere at his left, he recognized the tenebrous slithering mass as the Grand Canal. With a shiver, he knew without a doubt that were he to fall into the deep waters, he would drown into their darkness. Snapping his head away, Tsuna focused his gaze straight ahead. He could make out the shape of the mentioned roof with some difficulty. Mentally sending a little prayer to whoever would deign to listen, he crouched and leaped with as much dynamism as he could muster.

For a terrifying split-second, he believed that he had somehow failed his jump and was promptly whirling to meet the unforgiving ground. To his relief, his feet collided with slippery tiles and he tripped, wincing when he felt something sharp stab his sole. Then, he was flailing his arms wildly and comically, in a desperate attempt to regain his balance. Before he could stabilize or fall over, a hand snatched his forearm tightly and dragged him into a run across the roof. Tsuna didn't protest, somehow recognizing the hitman, and tried his hardest to keep up.

Tsuna followed blindly, in every sense of the word, Reborn's lead with the perpetual inch to look over his shoulder. In the silence of the slumbering Venice, his breathing sounded embarrassingly loud but not enough to not pick on the unmistakable presence of their pursuers, of their matching respiration and the slapping of their feet on the tiles and cobblestones. On the contrary, Reborn was as quiet as a ghost, and if his hand was not so firmly clamped on the teen's arm, Tsuna would have doubted his existence. It was unnerving, and he was running with the disturbing impression that he was dreaming of escaping monsters with a spirit to guide him.

The image shattered strikingly when Reborn abruptly whirled around, keeping his grip firm on Tsuna to stop him, and with his other hand, whipped out a gun. Without any hesitation, the hitman pressed the trigger a few times, an odd whistling sound escaping, followed by the heavy collapse of bodies behind the teen, some sliding to meet the ground with a sickening noise. Putting the gun back to its holster, Reborn didn't waste any more time and tugged Tsuna into movement. He obeyed numbly, his mind processing that there had been a silencer to muffle the bullets' burst of freedom, that the hitman had killed with a chilling ease several people in the darkness and that, as flippant as he had sounded back in the studio, Reborn had chosen to shoot the moment when the lack of lights would discourage Tsuna from glancing away for fear of falling.

Curses and insults were whispered and shouted below them. With no warning, Reborn shoved Tsuna away. Eyes widening impossibly, the teen tripped and fell over. Sheer instincts prompted him to twist and thrust his hands in front of him. His wrists, followed by his elbows, took the brunt of his rough landing on a balcony. Smacking his chest and legs on the stone, he jerked his head up and was grateful when his forehead and nose avoided a painful collision. He withheld his relieved sigh when he heard the quiet scuffle below him. Flattening and scarcely breathing, he listened attentively.

The fight – which, truly, did not deserve much to be named as but as a minor tussle – was over very quickly. It seemed that Reborn was as good a close-combat fighter as he was a marksman, especially without the hindrance of a teenage klutz. Tsuna was in no impatience to know if their pursuers were dead, and was quite pointedly avoiding thinking about it, and strained his ears to try deciphering the voices beneath him. He caught enough to recognize Italian, sighing defeatedly at the realization that he would not learn anything comprehensible.

When silence fell again, Tsuna slowly got up and risked a look. Somehow, he was not surprised to find Reborn standing alone in the street, staring imperiously and impatiently down at him – despite Tsuna still being perched above the hitman.

"Where are they?" He asked and after an inward debate, hopped over the rail and clutched it tightly.

Lowering himself down meticulously, he dangled precariously as he shot an estimating glance at the ground. Reborn didn't offer any assistance, merely looking on.

"Gone taking care of his comrades' corpses." He replied matter-of-factly, zero sympathy in his voice and smartly informing him that there was only one male survivor of the whole squadron.

Tsuna tried hard not to feel sick. The ache in his arms from supporting his weight and the painful landing on the cobblestone with wounded feet were welcome distractions.

"I don't suppose we can go back to the studio to get our things back?" He ventured, wishing for his shoes and suddenly glad that despite taking a shower earlier, he had the good idea of foregoing pajamas to keep day clothes on. "At least, to get my papers. For, you know, travelling."

"No need." Reborn waved him off, dismissive, and gestured him to follow.

Tsuna frowned, hurriedly limping to catch up with the hitman's long strides. "What do you mean? If I don't have my passport, at the very least, I won't be able to go anywhere…"

His voice trailed off when Reborn reached for one of his inside jacket pockets, waving a very familiar-looking dark blue booklet. It didn't take a genius-level of intelligence to deduce that his keeper had nicked the passport from Tsuna's luggage – among other things, likely.

"Oh." Tsuna bit his tongue to avoid adding a question about hidden antiseptic in his tailored trousers pockets, and he suppressed a wince when he tripped over a loose piece of stone. "Where are we going then?"

"Away."

Tsuna rolled his eyes at the uninformative answer. He would have never guessed, truly. Glancing behind him, he squinted at the cobblestones. Beneath the whitish light of the street lamps, with proper attention, one would notice the faint but darkening imprint of a partial foot, the right one. That meant that his sock was no doubt soaked through with his blood, and he abruptly wondered what exactly his injury was to provoke this mark. His medical knowledge was close to nonexistent, and his fuzzy memories of their very few anatomic lessons were useless. He had mostly retained that feet were a nightmare of bones, with some muscles and such to move them, and even fewer veins to carry blood.

He should warn Reborn about that, shouldn't he? After all, ignoring injuries was a certain way to worsen them, from a superficial wound to something downright alarming. That, and the trail of blood mightn't be a good thing to leave behind.

Tsuna paused, peering down at his foot, wondering how he should bring the matter up. He didn't notice Reborn stopping a few paces ahead, glancing over his shoulder.

"What is it?" He snapped, voice sharp as a whip.

Startled, Tsuna jerked his head up. "Huh, I – there's a tiny problem, I mean – "He tripped over his words, his back tensing in apprehension. He shrunk when the hitman fixed him a glare, no doubt annoyed. Bracing himself, Tsuna blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I'm bleeding. From my foot. And there's, huh, a trail?"

He had not meant to finish it as a question, at least, not until he managed to properly ask for a detour to a pharmacy. He cringed when Reborn prowled closer – there was no other word for his gait – and noticed the same trace as Tsuna did earlier. Tsuna watched as the hitman narrowed his eyes back at him, scanning his form quickly and critically.

"How long?"

"Since we left the studio." Tsuna admitted, sounding more tired than he wanted to let on. "I think that a piece of broken tile has lodged itself into my skin," he carried on quietly, anticipating the next question, "and it just got worse as we ran."

There was an eloquent silence. The teen inched back slowly from the hitman. He mightn't be able to read the man, but he was not idiotic enough to believe that this piece of information had not frustrated the other. They needed to leave, quickly, before any unwanted attention from public service or leering shadows turned to them. That much, he was aware of.

"I should have expected as much." Reborn's voice was slightly strained, then his eyes pinned Tsuna down with a heavy and threatening gleam. "I am not carrying you, nor am I coddling you any further. You will walk and you will treat your own minor injuries when we have the supplies. Now, we have lost enough time as it is."

Tsuna wordlessly nodded, following the hitman. No complaint would cross his pursued lips. No wince would show on his features. No locked jaw would betray his pain. He would endure as he had grown used to, occulting his body's messages to let his mind wander elsewhere, latching on the closest foreign emotions he could feel to distract himself from his own.

His soulmate who was usually a rock, was the most agitated Tsuna had ever felt him. Instead of finding the earlier focus and easy curiosity, there was the lingering pulsing thrum of violent excitement, wrapped around a thirst that he had learnt to recognize for blood, and a frustrated annoyance that let no leeway to any thread of patience. With little imagination, Tsuna could easily see them mirroring Reborn's mood.

It was not the case, evidently, as Tsuna would rather expect anger, and maybe a touch of scorn. Neither hitman or teen lived in the same world, after all.

"Who were they?"

Tsuna realized he had posed the question only when it escaped his lips.

"Members of the Artiglio Family." Reborn didn't slow down, apparently paying no attention to the teen despite answering. "It literally means claw. The name was chosen as a reference to the Venetian flag representing a winged-lion or leopard, clutching a sword in its paw."

"Venice is their city, then?" Tsuna guessed – accurately when the hitman didn't correct him. "Why would they attack me? I mean," he elaborated when he noticed that he was being too vague, "I know there's something of a bounty, but are they really trying to get me for the money? Or is there something else?"

"There is always more than one motivation." Reborn shot him a look, voice flat. "You have enough information to make suppositions. Think."

Feeling oddly put to the test, Tsuna frowned as he pushed the impression aside to focus.

"Well," he began slowly, "you told me that Vongola was one of the most important Families, so I guess that getting rid of a potential heir can turn out to be beneficial for them. Say, if they are rivals, it will show that they can outwit Vongola by causing the disappearance of one of the candidates supposed to pursue the Family's existence and business."

"Finish your train of thought."

"If there isn't anyone to, huh, pick up the torch, then Vongola will wither…or something?" He hesitated, fumbling around with politics foreign to him. "At least, they will lose business opportunities, and their influence will dwindle. So," he added hastily, barely noticing that his limp had worsened, "that would mean that the, huh, Artiglio is stronger than Vongola, therefore more interesting to ally yourself with."

"At least, you're not as foolish as you look." Reborn idly commented. "In other words, your death would strike down Vongola politically and financially, even if the heir apparent survives and takes over nonetheless." At Tsuna's confused silence, he elaborated shortly. "Families who cannot protect their heirs are widely regarded as weak and unreliable."

"Right." Tsuna swallowed, still a bit queasy about talks of death and mafia take-over. "Fortunately, it won't come to that, right?"

Reborn shrugged indifferently. "Ideally, no. Realistically, you should prepare yourself for this prospect. That is," the hitman glanced at Tsuna, a sinister gleam in his eyes, "if I manage to keep you alive long enough."

They found the nearest pharmacy open so late in the evening, after leaving San Marco to enter the Cannaregio sestiere, getting lost into another maze of streets. Tsuna had long given up on getting his bearings and keeping an accurate sense of direction, forced to follow blindly and limply an unperturbed hitman. The green cross, blazing into the night, was a source of endless relief for the teen. It was different from what he was used to in Japan, but he had quickly come to retain some of the most useful information, especially those revolving around services, including how to get medication for my constant headaches.

The pharmacy, brightly lit and quiet, was void of any presence. The clerk was not at the desk, vanished in the back to check on the inventory, probably. Tsuna stood awkwardly near the door, watching Reborn browse the shelves, hand taking what was wanted without the need to even read the names of each items. Instead of waiting for the employee to come back, the hitman snatched a biodegradable bag to put each article in. Without any care of a glance at the back, Reborn gestured at Tsuna to follow and they left the pharmacy without paying anything, readily stealing. Twice the door tinkled, lonely sign of their passage.

When the clerk finally made to greet the potential clients, it was only to find them gone with the echo of a tiny bell and the faintest trace of blood.

"You will treat your injury as we wait for the vaporetto." Reborn instructed as he handed to Tsuna, who had chosen to keep any protest silent, the bag full of taken necessities. "We're not far from the stop."

"I don't have a ticket." Tsuna pointed out as he reluctantly took hold of the stuff.

"You don't." The hitman confirmed, but didn't add anything else, leaving the teen to question the statement's implications.

It was not a long walk to reach the Ca'd'Oro ferry terminal, ten minutes at a steady pace, but it took them nearly the double. The street leading to the pontoon was narrow, splashes of light cutting through the darkness. Tsuna looked longingly at the close doors of the Giorgio Franchetti Gallery and its (unseen) benches. Withholding a sigh, he hobbled behind Reborn. He wished he could lie down and go to sleep, dreaming away the insanity that was apparently forced on his life. Entering the departure lounge, he plopped down on the first available seat.

Still outside, Reborn checked the time schedule and glanced at his watch – a gorgeous Swiss piece, glinting on its own even in the night. Tsuna glanced down when the hitman huffed out an impatient breath. Instead, he focused on getting his sock off. Squinting in the neon lights, he patted his foot, trying to determine if whatever had stabbed his limb was stuck between the stitches or was completely inside. He had a sneaking suspicion that the latter was worse than the former.

"When will the shuttle come?" Tsuna asked, his index catching the sharp end of a shard – the culprit.

"At twenty past one." Reborn answered as he approached the teen, taking care of not blocking the crude light. "You have eight minutes, assuming the vaporetto isn't early."

"Only eight – "Tsuna trailed off, shutting up as he recalled that the hitman would not accept any complaint.

He suddenly wished for a pair of shoes, or even another pair of socks. If he didn't manage to entangle the shard from the fabric, he would have to cut around the foreign body. Doing that would mean that he would have to go partly barefoot, which was quite unwise in general, even more so when wounded. Frowning, he tugged carefully and slipped the fabric along the shard. With excruciating slow movements and excess care, he managed to completely pull off the sock. Even stiff with dried blood, Tsuna was loathed to throw away as it proved to be a – admittedly meager – barrier, and merely put it on the ground.

A bottle of disinfectant was thrust under his nose. Tsuna started, not expecting to receive any help, even minimal, from the hitman. Thanking him quietly, he grabbed it and sprayed the antiseptic on the bloodied punctured point. He vaguely wondered if it was efficient any, like this, and decided to worry about it later. A hand shuffled through the bag, fingers closing around tweezers, and pulled them out. With a concentrated frown, Tsuna crossed his legs in a lotus position, bending over awkwardly to avoid casting shadow on his foot.

It took him several tries to grasp the shard securely enough to consider removing it. The atmosphere was so still and silent that he could hear the clinking noise the tweezers made against the shard. Forcing his breath to deepen and to adopt a more regular pattern, instead of the short and almost loud pants he had been letting out in his apprehension, Tsuna braced himself and pulled.

The pain took him by surprise. Instead of the constant dull throbbing he had adapted to, it sharpened rebelliously, warningly. His grip didn't falter, though, and he stubbornly carried on. The shard was not cut clean nor in a straight line, and its jaded and rough edges were causing as much damage by getting out that they did by getting in. His bleeding did not seem to worsen any more than it had already, which was a small relief, even though it probably meant that it was his muscles that were suffering.

"Hurry." Reborn snapped at him, hearing the boat approaching before the teen could register the noise.

Tsuna scrunched up his nose, swallowing back any protest and put down the jaded shard away from him. Taking hold once again of the antiseptic, he sprayed it generously on the injury. There was no water to clean it beforehand, after all. The tweezers returned inside the bag, exchanged with the roll of bandages. Wrapping them tightly around his foot, Tsuna didn't hesitate to create several layers, quite aware that he was not going to rest any time soon and that he needed to somehow protect it. Finally, he secured it with several bands of adhesive tape.

"Done." He sighed quietly, resisting the urge to rub his eyes and putting on his bloodied sock instead.

What was left returned to the bag, excluding the red shard. Tsuna had noted the absence of pain killers – there wasn't even aspirin. He abruptly wondered if the hitman believed that he would be tempted to knock himself out with them, or if he truly didn't care about his charge's mental stamina.

"Come, then."

Tsuna genuinely thought that he wouldn't be able to get up. The task to put his feet beneath him to push him up and to keep him standing, and walking, appeared as a daunting prospect suddenly. Staring fixedly at the ticket booth through one of the windows, he tried to remember if Reborn purchased tickets. When his mind drew a blank, he twisted his neck around. He flinched back in fright, head banging against the window behind him, when he realized that the hitman was standing just beside him, leaning forward and encroaching into his personal space. Inky eyes glared at him, a command of obedience of their own.

"Get. Up." Reborn clearly and lowly intoned.

A shiver running down his spine, Tsuna stumbled back on his feet. Smoothly strengthening up, the hitman took a step back and shot a pointed look at the ticket inspector waiting on the boat, simultaneously handing him a validated ticket. Tsuna obeyed the unsaid command, limping aboard the shuttle, bag hanging from his loose fingers. He presented its ticket with a nervous twitch of lips, failing in summoning a smile, and felt his shoulders drop in relief when no protest arose. Glancing around, he was mildly surprised to notice a few passengers. He paused, wondering if he should stay outside with the duo of young women talking quietly to each other in Italian, or brave the inside with the three solitary men all looking out and ignoring each other. Figuring that it was marginally safer inside, he took a step forward but inexplicably stopped.

It was another one of these moments, he realized. When visceral instincts whispered to him hushed senses of wrongness, prowling around him and most of the times, bidding their time before leaping at him. Always accurate, he had learned the hard way to trust the sibylline murmurs, to heed their undecipherable words and to follow their intangible lead.

"Another one?" Reborn's voice and breath ghosted over his right ear, distracting and unnerving.

Tsuna nodded silently, eyes sweeping the passengers, looking for the odd one out. He had already dismissed the two friends sharing the vaporetto, each trusting the other to be careful and to watch their backs, living in the same apartment and sharing the same wish to find a significant other by meeting acquaintances and strangers in amical outings.

"Which one?"

Eyes flicking from a man to another, he scrutinized them with intense focus. The nearest was leaning against the window, forehead pressed against the glass, looking lost to the world. The heavy bags under his eyes, like two bruises, his ashen complexion and the occasional uncontrolled tremor of his fingers, were enough for Tsuna to recognize a chronic insomniac. There was something like resigned acceptance in his defeated eyes – the look of one used to face a recurring demon, holding to some rituals to pacify it long enough to rest, despite knowing of their pointlessness.

"The one slumped in his seat," Tsuna turned side-way, keeping the men in his sight, lips barely moving, "has been observing us ever since we've been there. Well, mostly you. I think he's a pickpocket, or at least, is used to steal from people. I doubt that he's going to try anything," he added, knowing that circumstances didn't favor the theft and frankly, Reborn's wealth was remarkable, as well as his blatant rejection of any kind of compassion – aura cold and unforgiving.

"I've noticed." Reborn dismissed the possibility straight away, in a tone that indicated that he already knew it.

"The one who's been swaying in his seat, though…" Tsuna trailed off, frowning. "He's not as drunk as he pretends to be. And he's been interested in keeping an eye on us even before the thief, as if he was somehow expecting us."

"A watcher." The hitman confirmed, tugging the teen by the arm to push him in a seat – still outside. "In case we manage to escape the first attack, members have been dispatched in the city, some scouring the public transports. As you can see, one of these guys have found us. He'll be observing for a while, estimating the risks. If low, he'll attack. Otherwise, he'll pass information along and trail us."

"In the city?" Tsuna repeated, startled. "As in, the whole city? How are we even supposed to get out?"

"By being unpredictable." Reborn answered simply, not elaborating and giving him an infuriating cocky smirk. "Now, we've got a little bit more than half an hour before we reach our stop. Keep an eye out and don't fall asleep."

He leaned against the rail beside his charge, gaze lazily sweeping their surroundings. Tsuna stole a glance at their tail before looking away, guessing that it would be better to act obliviously. Instead, he stared at the shadowed facades of the ancient buildings, listening to the quiet lapping of the Grand Canal. It was almost agreeable, as the air had freshened up to bearable temperatures, and the calm invited relaxation. Even as nervous as he was, he knew that he could doze off without too much resistance. He didn't, however, acutely aware of the hitman's presence beside him.

At the next stop, the two friends tiredly got up to leave the boat – not without sneaking admiring glances at Reborn and shy smiles. Tsuna briefly wondered how they would react if they knew what type of job the handsome hitman held. He had the suspicion that they would run away as far away and as quickly as possible.

How would he react if his soulmate turned out to be someone like Reborn? Tsuna knew, merely from their emotions, that they were not the most conventional individual running around. It was even highly likely that their life was as complicated as Reborn's. And, as his mother had pointed out years ago, that they were not what anyone would call a good person.

Sometimes, he doubted that he ever wanted to meet them.

Shaking himself out of his depressing thought, Tsuna leaned backwards and threw his head back, craning his neck over the rail. The crescent moon shone weakly within its starry blanket, cleared from any cloud. Movement at the corner of his eyes caused him to shift slightly, rolling his head sideways to peer at Reborn. The hitman was turning his squared back to the waters, hands in his trousers pockets, elbows grazing the rail. His fedora was low, darkening his face and hiding the piercing eyes watching passengers, staff, the bank and the buildings alike. He was the picture of mysterious danger – a predator crouched in the shadows, fierce and cunning.

Feeling Tsuna's contemplative gaze on him, Reborn glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow. The teen had countless questions swimming in his mind, a mush of worries and numb panic over his mother's safety, his own, their role in this impossible situation. He didn't dare to enquire about the first matter, thinking of the spy close to them.

"Why now?" He settled for asking quietly. "Why would I be involved now of all times?"

"Have you already forgotten what I told you?" The hitman sounded unimpressed, tone questioning his intelligence.

"I mean," Tsuna frowned, "my birth has never been a secret for, err, for the Family, right? So, why waiting until shit goes down to remember that I exist, huh? And why not wait until I'm really the last resort?"

"Actually, your very existence was only known by few, all of the highest ranks." Reborn corrected him, unruffled by the sudden burst of frustration. "Granted, your father would shamelessly rave about the son he had basically never met, but he would at least choose carefully whose asses he's going to be a pain to."

Tsuna was surprised by the strangled laugh that escaped him, dislodging his head from its position as he leaned forward to cough lightly.

"Wait," he strengthened up, "if I was supposed to be so much of a secret, how come there are even traces? Shouldn't there be, like, nothing on me?"

"And should the direct heirs and those knowing of your existence die?" The hitman pointed out, agreeing with the point by ignoring it. "What would happen then?"

"Oh, please." Tsuna scoffed. "Wouldn't it be better for the Family to choose someone else, anyone else, than a civilian who virtually knows nothing and has no training whatsoever? That, or going down with a boom, it matters not to me," he added almost inaudibly.

"Unfortunately, it isn't so simple." Reborn eyed the insomniac stumbling outside, walking slowly towards the opposing rail. "The Family is traditional, extremely so, and has expectations to fulfill. As astonishing as it is, you seem to fit the bill."

"Oh, really?" He didn't hide his skepticism. "And what do you think?" He challenged the hitman, purposefully locking their eyes.

"You shouldn't be here." Reborn bluntly replied, making no effort to soften his words. "You are an outsider, no matter your lineage. You might be resourceful enough to evade some attempts on your life, but without training, a mentor or some basic awareness of our world, you'll be dead soon enough."

"Exactly." Tsuna agreed, thankful for the harsh honesty. "I am not qualified to be whatever the heck I'm supposed to be."

He watched the insomniac and the thief got off at the Giardini stop, and he idly wondered if the poor man was going to lose his wallet along with his sleep.

"You could be."

Tsuna snapped his head around to stare disbelievingly at the hitman. "Wha – "

"You have the potential to be." Reborn interrupted him, dark eyes scrutinizing him thoughtfully. "With proper and extensive training, under excellent mentorship, you can rise to fulfill expectations."

"Extensive training – excellent – "Tsuna floundered, highly incredulous. "Me?" He spluttered finally before dryly saying, "if you've seen my marks, you wouldn't say that."

"I've read your file, Freaky-Tsuna." The hitman paused, watching him gape in consternation, cheeks reddening in ashamed embarrassment. "Though, you seem to be as equally liked as you are hated among your classmates and pitied by your teachers when they don't forget your existence."

"As proven by how easily you've been able to kidnap me," the teen admitted, skipping the rest to focus on the last point. "You know, I'm still waiting for a cop to show up and ask me if the missing Japanese tourist and I are the very same."

"Who do you take me for?" Reborn cuffed his head, offended by the implication that he would commit such an obvious mistake. "I am the greatest hitman that this world will ever offer," he continued with an arrogant smirk, "which means that your teachers are persuaded that you have ditched the remaining days of the trip to spend time with your overseas working father. Whether you come back after summer break remains to be seen."

Reflexively rubbing the back of his head, Tsuna blinked dumbly at the other. "No one will ever believe that you're my father," he pointed out, disbelieving. "You're only a few years older than me, right?"

"Age is your first argument?" Reborn sounded more amused than anything. "Not the fact that we look nothing alike?"

"Appearances don't mean anything," Tsuna retorted, making a face. "I look nothing like my father, and yet, he still is."

A burst of wind ruffled his hair wildly, and he grimaced when several strands stuck on his forehead. The vaporetto was crossing the lagoon to reach the Lido isle, splashing gently against the waves and submitting to the humid winds of the sea. At least, it was not raining. Glancing around, his eyes briefly met the spy's own. He abruptly looked away, heart hammering fast in his chest as he ardently wished that he had no given away his suspicions.

"Are we almost there?" He asked, his voice holding a barely noticeable tremor.

"Can you run?" The hitman retorted without missing a beat.

Nonplussed, Tsuna cocked his head towards his guide. "…Yes?" He bit his lower lip, shifting his foot on the ground and trying to estimate the pain he would have to deal with, then thought of a situation with several assassins pursuing him. "I'll run if I have to," he concluded, because, really, he wanted to live and see his mother once again.

"Good."

Tsuna frowned, biting his cheek and abruptly remembered that it was still healing, stopping. The vaporetto quickly lost speed, indicating that they were almost there. From the corner of his eyes, he caught Reborn glancing at his watch.

"Exactly two o'clock," the hitman answered Tsuna's unspoken question who hadn't realized that he had been spotted looking. "We shan't be late."

"I wasn't aware that we had an appointment." He remarked idly, almost sarcastic.

"One that we can't afford to miss," Reborn affirmed, eyes straying to glare at the Artiglio member openly. "At least, if you wish to avoid another confrontation."

Tsuna tensed as the vaporetto engaged into maneuver, approaching dangerously close to the boarding gate. "Are there others waiting for us?"

"Unlikely. As numerous as these Claws are, they are not nearly enough to spare some into guarding an isle that presents little interest to fugitives, when roads and ferry terminals are to be watched all over the city."

"If that was really the case, I doubt that you would have led us here." Tsuna remarked reasonably.

He barely knew Reborn, granted, but it was obvious that the man was anything but a fool.

"While your faith in my smarts is well-founded, you built a high opinion of me rather quickly."

"Yes, well, I'm not blind nor completely stupid," the teen retorted dryly, not even surprised that the hitman would point it out. "One does not survive long in your profession without common sense or self-preservation, right?"

"You're too trusting for your own good." Reborn clarified his earlier remark, tone dripping into warning.

Tsuna snorted. "If you wanted me dead, I would already be six feet under. Without anyone none the wiser, I bet."

He fidgeted nervously as dark eyes considered him thoughtfully, wondering if he had said something wrong. He believed his statement to be the truth, but he might have been daring by speaking so plainly. It was one of these other times when he wished he could still sense emotions instead of relying on hazardous readings, especially when confronted with closed books like Reborn.

"Indeed," Reborn merely intoned ominously. "Now, follow and be quiet."

Getting up, Tsuna winced when his knees nearly buckled up, caught off-guard by the heaviness in his legs and the sharp throb shooting up from his foot. Yet, he did not say anything, merely brushing past Reborn to stumble on steady ground, away from the rocking floor of the boat, and without forgetting their bag. He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the Artiglio member watching them leave. Jerking his head forward, he crossed the arched passageway and was mildly surprised to see parked cars. It was slightly odd as Venice did not allow any car circulation. He did not linger, obediently limping hurryingly away when Reborn gave him a none-too-gentle push at his back.

Bypassing the numerous bicycles leaning or standing not far from them, the hitman flicked his eyes around. Without a word, he grasped Tsuna's bruised bicep and dragged him away from the ferry terminal. He was observing with keen attention each car they passed by, walking north. Tsuna alternated between watching curiously his bodyguard and shooting looks around them, wary of any shadow corner and expecting an undesirable presence at any time. They stopped by a convertible, shining dully under the streetlamps. Reborn smoothly jumped inside, a delighted smirk stretching his lips at the carelessness of its owner. Tsuna hobbled around, squinting to read the brand and recognizing the Fiat logo easily enough. He took notice of the 124 Spider at the right. Knowing next to nothing about automobiles, much less foreign ones, he could only guess that it was a fairly old model and that the body was red.

Glancing up and around, Tsuna pointedly ignored whatever Reborn was doing. He wouldn't speak up against the theft, his self-preservation overriding his moral, but would not actively participate, aside from keeping watch.

"Get in." Reborn ordered him a few minutes later, snapping him from his surveillance of the street.

He obeyed with little reluctance, pushing with his good foot to awkwardly crawl inside, taking the passenger seat. He didn't glance at the hitman's amused scoff, eyes straining on the still silhouette he had noticed even as he tumbled gracelessly, almost squashing the bag as he did so.

"Do you think he's going to follow us?" He asked quietly instead.

"I would like to see that," Reborn's smirk widened in challenging mischievousness, showing a few pointy teeth.

The hitman purposefully met their tail's gaze, tauntingly engaging first gear. He watched as the Artiglio member froze up for a few seconds, his hand slowly retreating beneath his jacket. Smoothly, with the grace of a natural and experienced driver, Reborn pulled the car out of his park at an agonizingly slow pace. Tsuna watched in silent trepidation as his debatably-sane bodyguard goaded their pursuer into attack. As the Venetian mafioso launched into run, a familiar shape slipping from the cover of his vest, Reborn coaxed the motor into a more vigorous purring by gearing up and pressing down the accelerator. With an expert swerve, the Fiat sharply turned away from the Artiglio member who shouted drawn out curses, closely followed by the unmistakable bursts of released bullets.

Shrinking into his seat and planting his fingers into the leather, Tsuna saw Reborn's eyes alight with suppressed glee at the failed attempts, privately thinking that, had the hitman been inclined to, cackles would have haunted their stalker as they escaped.

Less than ten minutes later, Reborn was considerably slowing down the convertible, steering right to take a narrower road. Tsuna glanced at the looming church standing guard at the intersection before swiftly looking away, uneasy. He fixed his stare on the immobile shadowed forms of trees until they vanished to make way to another canal – gentle waves rippling the abyssal waters. The yellowish light of the streetlamp reflected on the perturbed surface was doing nothing to pierce through their impenetrability. Deciding that his thoughts were taking a turn to crippling anxiety, Tsuna pointedly glanced at the rearview mirror. There was nothing to see behind them, and despite the fresh wind ruffling his brown locks, he couldn't relax.

Certainly, they had gotten away from their pursuers. For now. Tsuna held no disillusion. The Artiglio Family was only one among plenty others, all seeking his head for different reasons – lure of money the simplest one of them. He was now a hunted man, thrown into a world he knew nothing of, relying with forced trust on a (hired) mysterious and quite terrifying man.

"Wonderful," he muttered out loud, not even realizing it. "Fucking wonderful."

"Language," Reborn chided him as he slowly turned around the traffic circle and parked in front of a rather huge building, silencing the motor.

Tsuna narrowed his eyes, ignoring the reprimand and anticipating the next order, hauled himself from his seat and over the door. The hitman was already examining the gate – a mix of metallic horizontal bars and a low wall. He took enough care to stay out of the few cameras, examining the obstacle. Glancing back at Tsuna critically – who merely stood beside him with something close to resignation – he flicked a wrist towards the gate meant for pedestrians.

"Climb there, it should be a tad easier." He instructed the teen shortly, already moving forward to merely vault over a not-so-low small wall. "Hurry up!"

"Yes, yes," Tsuna groused unhappily and limped more-or-less obediently towards the gate.

He observed the metallic grid door with blatant disbelief, as well as the part of the wall it was integrated to. Rubbing tiredly his eyes with one of his hands – the other still clutching their medical bag – he vaguely thought that he should have tried harder in his gymnastic exercises. Bless his natural agility, or else, he was certain he wouldn't have been able to climb, pull his wriggling weight over the cement and do the same in the other side, only reversed, and without dropping anything.

Staggering back to Reborn, standing stoically in the darkness, Tsuna didn't resist his urge to scowl.

"Where even are we?"

"A tourist airport." The hitman turned around, hands back in his pockets, infuriatingly nonchalant. "When leaving Venice, you are expected to either take the road or infiltrate a boat."

"So, we're going to fly away?" Tsuna asked, eyes incredulous as he hastened his limping to catch up. "In the middle of the night, no less?" He paused, eyes widening. "Wait, that's what you meant earlier!"

"If you fall into the fountain, I will not help you."

Reborn's warning made his steps falter, and he realized that he had strayed a little bit too much to the right, his socks tramping on dry grass. He glanced at the deceitfully plain circle mere inches from him. Hastily stumbling forward, he abruptly walked towards the unconcerned hitman.

"So," he began, huffing out a breath, "on top of being an exceptionally… daring driver, you're also a clandestine pilot?"

"Unfortunately, no." Reborn waved him closer with an impatient gesture. "Not yet."

Following the road leading between the imposing building they had first seen and another one, smaller, Tsuna gave him a suspicious look.

"What, you're aiming to own every existing license?"

He was joking, of course, trying to relax as they passed between the dark and looming edifices, feeling almost claustrophobic. If they really were on the point of boarding a plane, the impression would certainly not vanish anytime soon.

"Mastering eclectic and numerous skills increases your chance of survival." Reborn's matter-of-fact reply made Tsuna cringe. "You would do well to remember this." And the teen glanced away, towards the runway, ill-at-ease.

He was spared from giving an answer by the light but audible steps of a silhouette approaching them. Unconsciously shifting into a defensive stance, he almost took a step back to put further distance. Reborn looked utterly relaxed, never mind that none of them could see each other's faces.

"What do you think you're doing here?"

Tsuna's shoulders slumped as he recognized Italian, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't understand anything, and merely picked on the gravelly voice.

"Chaos." Reborn smoothly replied, unfazed by the hostility.

The figure stopped. "You're late," they snarled, apparently recognizing the hitman if their tone was any indication.

"I'm never late, nor am I early, Rosa." And Tsuna was shocked to recognize a feminine name, at odds with the rough voice, as Reborn merely contradicted her.

"You choose the time to grace us, poor peasants, with your majestic presence, isn't that right, bastardo?"

"Still as delightful as ever, I see." The hitman dryly commented, shifting his stance to let his impatience be apparent. "I would rather pursue this enchanting discussion in the relative safety of your plane."

"And I would rather not see your detestably charming face, but beggars can't be choosers, huh?" Her attention was swiftly averted when Tsuna fidgeted nervously, leaning his weight on his good leg and almost falling over as his knee seemed to give out. "Who's the kid?"

"None of your concern."

"Alright then." She shrugged. "He doesn't come."

Tsuna glanced warily at Reborn, catching the sudden relaxation of his shoulders – only sign that the strain had been there. Shifting his attention back to Rosa, he noticed that, alternatively, she had stiffened.

"You would refuse him a place?" The hitman asked pleasantly enough, contradicting the mounting tension in his interlocutor. "You would refuse to complete the task I paid you for?"

"There are conditions to meet." She replied, her stance turning defensive. "I won't accept a passenger I know nothing of. It's this type of ignorance that can lead to my death."

"I assure you, Rosa, that it is not blindness that will cause your demise." Reborn's voice purred, words caressing them icily. "However, betraying my expectations is enough to get a bullet through your little brain."

"A plane without a pilot is of no use to you." Rosa scoffed, hands twitching nervously at her sides.

"Unreliable pilots won't be missed."

She easily caught the double-meaning. She stood motionlessly for a few seconds, hands fisting. She had no need to gauge Reborn's honesty. He was a man of binding words, following through any promise or threat he gave, no matter how faint or subtle. Should she truly deny their request, she would not see another day, he would ensure it.

Throwing her head up, she stared at the crescent moon and its starry companions.

"You're not giving me any choice, stronzo." She spat. "At least, tell me if there is any chance that we're getting shot in flight."

"None." Reborn assured her flatly. "May we finally go now?"

Rosa shot him a glare, pouring her very intent to murder him with her own hands – only succeeding in getting a mocking quirk of an eyebrow. She jerked her head away, striding furiously towards her Ilyushin Il-103 aircraft. Tsuna watched her go with faint bemusement.

"Is she okay?" He asked in a whisper, glancing at the hitman.

"Don't mind her," Reborn gestured at him to follow their pilot. "Better yet, stay silent and try to rest. You'll need your strength."

Tsuna complied, frowning uneasily at the ominous words.

Tsuna did not remember much about the flight. Once the exhilaration and apprehension of both the take-off and being in the air receded to a quiet wonder, he spent long minutes merely looking out the panes. However, as the night was still ruling over the lands, he shifted his attention from squinting to the horizon towards the starry sky, slumping as best as he could while being harnessed to his seat tightly. Feeling oddly drowsy and hazed, he did not try to fight the sleep creeping on him, and promptly fell asleep despite the loud noise of the engine.

"He's injured." Rosa commented a few minutes later, eyes strained forward. "Must be feverous to fall unconscious so easily."

"He's fine." Reborn dismissed her instantly, not even glancing behind him.

She scoffed. "How would you know? You're no doctor."

"Neither are you."

"Contrary to you," she went on, ignoring his intervention, "he does not possess monstrous Sun Flames. You mightn't be able to develop infections or other bothersome things like that, but the kid's different. Flameless."

"No, he isn't." Reborn tilted his head to appraise her carefully, and she couldn't decide if he was agreeing with her point or disagreeing on the other. "I would have left him to his death if he was worthless."

"In that case, you imbecile, shouldn't you be helping him? He was limping his way to the plane, per l'amor del cielo, as if he had been stabbed or something! Shouldn't you be checking him over to ensure that he is not going to keel over due to infection or a hemorrhage?"

"For someone who was about to leave him to fend for himself like a lost lamb, you seem to care an awfully lot." The hitman mused out loud, voice mocking. "Then again, you're already thinking him dead – or very nearly so."

"Don't try to bullshit me." Rosa snarled, looking away long enough to send him a vicious glare. "This," she waved at Tsuna, "is not your usual trade. You kill people, you do not protect them." She paused, eyes flicking from the teen to the deceivingly pleasant hitman. "And for good reason."

The heavy silence that followed was thick with tension, enough that Tsuna stirred in his sleep, frowning in mild distress. Reborn paid him no mind, dark eyes strained on the pilot, his features smooth and void of any emotion.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He questioned lowly, warningly.

"Exactly what I said." Rosa rasped, swallowing dryly as she ignored his unspoken threat. "You're shit at protecting people. And you know why? It's because you don't care for others, you don't show kindness, compassion or even interest, but only cruelty and mockery. How are you supposed to protect anyone if you don't even try to understand them?"

Behind them, Tsuna gave a muffled whimper, his instincts picking on the deadly menace looming over him, filling the entire cockpit, despite being unconscious. He shrunk and tried to curl on himself as best as he could, attempting to vanish from sight, clutching the bag to his chest. Rosa flinched, her hands giving an odd jerk and perturbing slightly the plane's flight path. She dared not to look at the ominous presence beside her, tempted to press her side against the door to increase the distance between them.

"Careful," Reborn murmured in the shadows wrapped around them as the moon disappeared behind a veil of clouds, "or you might find my patience wanting when we land."

Rosa shuddered, entire body tensing in trepidation, holding her breath without her notice. The clouds passed, he did nothing but tilt his fedora down, and she exhaled a shaky sigh.

No more words were exchanged.

The Galileo Galilei International Airport was gently busy in the very early hours of the morning. It was not yet four as Tsuna roused from a dreamless sleep, feeling groggy and embarrassingly sluggish, still clutching the bag tightly. He therefore took no notice of Reborn's exacerbated iciness as he thanked Rosa, nor did he see how the pilot flinched away from them, giving a jerking and hurried nod. All he could truly focus on was his mourning over his socks and shoes, his wish over finding a warm shower and maybe taking another sleep for another decade would be great. Stumbling behind the hitman unsteadily, he was vaguely aware that they were still on the tarmac, stealthily dodging employees and workers as they made their way through. Instead of taking the path travelers were supposed to, Reborn led them away from the main buildings. Tsuna idly wondered if the hitman had already come in this airport, what with his ability to take the least frequented passages and avoiding sticky spots, as well as apparently finding the few narrow paths connecting the open space of the airport to the town.

"Where are we?" Tsuna mused out loud in a whisper, limping as he tried to avoid looking directly at the artificial lights – his eyes being unusually sensitive.

"Pisa." Reborn responded in a sotto voice, barely audible. "No, I'm not taking you to visit. Yes, we're going to stop at a hotel to rest. It is doubtful that the Artiglio managed to track us in the air, and we need to pause to plan."

"Alright," he murmured, getting the hint and prompting shutting up.

They encountered no hindrance as they left the grounds. Tsuna expected the hitman to lead them further into the town, getting once again lost in the Italian streets. He was therefore surprised that Reborn took him back to the main building, this time taking the entrance like proper travelers instead of skulking in the shadows. Of course, Tsuna mused as he glanced down at his state – disheveled, a bit bloody and quite pitiful – he wasn't quite sure that he truly looked the part. His lips twitched into the semblance of a smile, ducking his head with shy embarrassment at the looks he was receiving. Reborn ignored most of them, glaring only at anyone on his path – promptly making them trip on their feet in their haste to get away.

"Stay here," Reborn commanded him as they reached a telephone booth, "don't move, don't speak and avoid attracting attention."

Tsuna bristled at the orders, feeling much like being treated as a dog – a dumb dog – but kept his mouth shut at the dangerous look in the other's eyes. He did not know what had occurred in the plane to get the hitman in such a foul mood, but he certainly did not want to incur his wrath. Instead, he drifted a bit away, leaning against the adjacent wall. His sluggishness was not as strong as it was upon waking, but he did still feel worryingly slow. He did not know why that was. It was with a mix of sarcasm and bitterness that he admitted that he did not know much. Besides, he still felt incredibly tired despite resting for at least an hour. He was also jumpy, both from Reborn's attitude and the backlash of his soulmate's steady seething. It was unnerving how in tune both were.

Feeling paranoid, Tsuna kept watching anyone passing by them, blatantly staring at them, venturing guesses over their emotions and parts of their lives by picking on everything he could see through the haze in his mind. It was not as much as he usually would, and he was half-certain that he was missing quite the obvious each time, but it was nevertheless soothing. Besides, even if he tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, it was wishful thinking. From the curious or uneasy glances he received, Tsuna knew that he would attract attention whether he wanted it or not.

"If that is avoiding attention," Reborn dryly commented as he stepped out of the telephone booth to see several security agents watching them carefully, "I wonder what attracting trouble is for you."

"Well, considering that when I'm being ordinary, I got chased down across streets and roofs alike by angry mobsters, kidnapped and whisked away by suspicious characters," Tsuna deadpanned, "it is very likely that cops will try to convict me for fraud and murder of an American tourist while fleeing from the blaze lit by a megalo-pyromaniac."

The hitman cuffed him behind the head, one eyebrow quirked. "Is it your fever talking or is there something I should know?"

The teen frowned. "Fever? I don't have a fever," he stumbled behind the hitman, following slowly. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all."

Reborn merely observed him attentively, barely pausing in his steps. He did not look convinced, but then again, he did not look concerned neither. He altogether dismissed the matter, head turning forward. They went once again outside, staying near the entrance but looking out at the roads. Tsuna wondered what it was that they were waiting for, if Reborn somehow knew someone in Pisa and was therefore expecting them to fetch them.

When a taxi appeared, lights blinding and sweeping the road, Tsuna was absurdly disappointed.

They went inside as soon as the car stopped, uncaring for the usual short polite exchange to confirm identities, Reborn firing off Italian as he opened the door and practically threw Tsuna inside. The manhandling was not appreciated but the comfortable seats were welcome. He slumped on the back seat, buckling the belt automatically. Reborn lounged beside him, eyes fixed on the startled and progressively unnerved driver, not deigning to clasp the seat belt. Tsuna took one look at the uncomfortable cabbie and at an ever-hawk-watchful hitman and decided that he could spend the ride looking out of the window to see Pisa two hours before sunrise. He spent the remaining twenty minutes zoning out, unaware of Reborn's critical assessment of his state.

The street was narrow as the taxi stopped in front of their hotel, beside a line of already parked cars. Not for the first time, Tsuna felt almost claustrophobic between the high facades of old houses, stones soaked in heat despite the refreshing coolness that had taken over during the night. Two soft orangish halos of light deepened the shadows of a stony arch framing the majestic door, speaking of oldness, venerability and tenacity. Even without getting out of the car, he could already tell from the look of the door alone that Reborn had chosen a rather luxurious hotel to stay. Tsuna wondered if they would even be allowed inside, considering that it was something like half past four in the morning, and would therefore need the entire day at the very least to sleep, rest and scheme – or whatever the hell the hitman wanted to do. That, and the teen was certainly not in any way presentable.

Reborn paid the driver with a generous tip and a pointed look – that was received with something very close to fear by their chauffeur – he got out first, reflexively checking their surroundings. Obediently, and frankly quite content with staying inside the comfortable compartment, Tsuna waited for the hand signal before following him out. With an accented grazie to the wary driver, he left the car and limped behind Reborn – who already had opened the door. Tsuna shrunk on himself when he noticed the incredulous, then judgmental look the receptionist threw at them. Feeling self-conscious, he looked away, his gaze straying towards the windows as his hands fidgeted with their Venetian medical bag. He stared at the grills behind the panes, and instead of being reassured by the measure preventive trespassing, he distinctly felt restricted, imprisoned even.

A hand closed around his wrist, and he almost jumped out of his skin, tensing in anticipation and whirling around to stare wide-eyed at an unimpressed Reborn. Letting out a huff of nervous laughter, Tsuna gave a sheepish shrug.

"Quite jumpy, aren't you," Reborn commented, glancing where Tsuna was looking at.

"Just my nerves acting out, I think," the teen defended himself automatically, struggling a bit to free himself from the grip.

The hitman did not look affected by the resistance, dragging once again his charge behind him as the porter led them towards the lift and later, their room. Tsuna tuned out the short discussion going on between the two Italians and eyed the huge, soft and very tempting bed on the other side of room dividers, left open to catch a glimpse. He most likely would have swayed his way to the couch first, comfy and inviting, if only Reborn had loosened his grip. The man, though, was clearly not in the mind to let him out of his immediate sight so he resigned for patience. When the porter left them alone, closing the door with a soft click, Tsuna turned his attention back to the hitman.

"What did you ask him?" He inquired distractedly.

"The necessities." Reborn shifted his hold to grasp his shoulders firmly, directing him towards another door. "Go take a shower, throw your clothes in the nearby bin as well as the bandages and don't get out before being completely clean."

"What?" Tsuna blinked, stopping dead on his tracks. "But it's the only change I have!"

"Must I tell you everything?" Reborn asked rhetorically, tone flat. "You will notice the existence of bathrobes on the sink. I suggest wearing one, but if you would rather walk around naked until clothes make an appearance later today…"

"No!" Tsuna instantly blurted out, blushing in deep embarrassment and hurried away, freeing himself from the loose grip. "I'll take the bathrobe, yeah, great idea."

He managed to catch the hitman's amused chuckle, flustering him further, and he threw a mutinous glare behind his shoulder before closing the door – and locking it for good measure. Leaning against it, he sighed tiredly, rubbing his face with a hand. Closing his eyes, he just took a moment to calm down and soak into the quietness. He had not slept for close to twenty hours, spent most of the day walking and running around, been on edge ever since their arrival in Italy and was now trying to learn how to behave with his unnerving protector while attempting to not put any strain on his injured foot. He was already incredibly exhausted, and from what Reborn had said, the worst was yet to come.

His mind kept returning to his mother, worrying over her safety, health and care. Was she okay? Was someone taking care of her? Had she been warned of the situation? Had she been assured that he was fine? He had no doubt that she would be sick with worry if no one had said anything to her. He fervently hoped that someone, even Iemitsu at this point was better than nothing, had taken the time to explain the situation.

Shaking himself out of his depressing thoughts for the moment, he looked around. The bathroom was rather small but not suffocating. The colors, blue-grey and clear brown, were soothing for his frayed nerves. Spotting the bathrobes on the sink as Reborn had told him, Tsuna glanced around for the towels. With a bit of shuffling around, he managed to find the bathmat, two bath towels and two shorter ones. He puzzled over the latter for a moment before shrugging and dividing the linen. He did the same for the courtesy set just in case and placed everything he would need at arm's reach. Taking hold of a bath sponge, he threw it inside the shower. Stripping completely, his clothes were bundled in a ball as tight as possible – shoving the bloody bandages in a pocket – and reluctantly put away in the white bin at a corner of the room. He then went to his business, glad for the presence of toilets, and vindictively decided to take all his time for his shower.

It was later, as he sat down on the bath mat, bathrobe snuggly around him and a short towel wrapped around his damp hair, that he properly looked at his injury. To his mild surprise, he noticed that the wound itself seemed somehow smaller than it had been. When he had treated it earlier, he had half-wondered if he shouldn't insist to see a physician as it seemed a bit too deep to be treated superficially – as well as a bit too bloody to be left alone. Of course, Reborn's intimidating behavior and the spy's presence had been enough distractions for him to forget all about it. As it seemed that there was no reddening of skin, swelling or an uncomfortable heat around, Tsuna concluded that there was no need to worry.

Still, he didn't like not putting bandages. Glancing around him, he recalled putting the traveling bag on the floor not far. He found it near the bin and awkwardly crawled towards it. He fished out the remaining bundle of bandages as well as the adhesive plaster and dressed as best as he could the wound. Shaking the feeling that he was missing something, he put everything away – the bag staying near the bin, as it was now mostly useless, and the longer towel to dry on the heater/tower rail – and after unlocking the door, pocked his head outside.

"Are you finally done, princess?"

And he practically jumped out of his skin at Reborn's mocking question. Suppressing a wince as he leaned on his freshly bandaged foot and still half-hidden behind the door, Tsuna scowled at the hitman.

"Not a girl," he snapped and immediately followed with a justification, "I was checking my foot."

The look he received was the most condescending he had ever seen.

"Of course," Reborn indulged him with a patronizing tone, "and?"

"And what?" Tsuna asked back, making sure that his bathrobe was firmly closed and acutely aware that he was naked beneath. "There's nothing wrong. Hurts a bit but it hasn't worsened."

"Indeed?" The hitman shot him an unreadable look, making him flush with awkward shyness.

"Anything else?" Tsuna caved first, edging away from the other as the examination continued.

"Yes," Reborn quirked an eyebrow, "get out of there and wait on the couch. And dry your hair," he added sternly as the teen hurried out of the bathroom, "getting sick is the last thing you need, idiota."

Of course, when the hitman returned to the main room ten minutes later – pleasantly surprised that the teen had tried to keep the bathroom neat even if it was from fear of retaliation – it was to find Tsuna buried under the cushions and other bolsters on the couch, hair half-dried and towel around his shoulders. Away from any witness, Reborn rolled his eyes in mild exasperation. And promptly plopped down on the teen's legs.

"So," he ignored the startled squawk and the following squirming, "you can't expect any hospitality from Vongola's territories as the threat has yet to be found and you can't seek refuge back to your town. Where can you go?"

Tsuna paused in his uncomfortable flopping, huffing. "Well," he frowned at the hitman, "I guess that I can't rely on my… friends…"

Eyes widening, he sprung up. Or rather, he attempted to. As Reborn was still perched on him, weighting down on his legs, he couldn't do much. Sighing in exasperation, he twisted around. Snatching his towel from where it hung limply around his shoulders, he wrapped it back around his hair.

"You do have friends, then." Reborn idly commented, watching the teen piled cushions behind him to sit up awkwardly. "Who?"

"What, it's not written in my files?" Tsuna instantly mockingly shot back, wincing when the hitman quirked an eyebrow and leaned back further, effectively cutting blood circulation in at least one leg. "Fine!" He huffed out, wriggling uselessly. "Kyōko and Hana are really the only ones I can call my friends, though Ryōhei's always been kind to me. I guess that if you didn't know about them, then no one warned them either."

"Doesn't mean that whoever is tracking you down will not learn about them and try to get to you by using them."

"Not helping," Tsuna scowled, crossing his arms on his chest. His eyes lit up as a thought crossed his mind, and he leaned slightly forward. "You won't let me go back, but will you let me alert them without needing to contact them?"

"If you're ready to risk your location as well as theirs to send your message, go ahead." Reborn waved his hand dismissively, metaphorically refusing to carry any blame or responsibility over the potential consequences.

Tsuna did not look worried, his lips twitching in an almost smirk. "Then, I'll need a phone."

A beat of silence, and Reborn let him free, getting to his feet with infuriating grace. Tsuna folded his legs beneath him quickly, not taking a chance for the hitman to change his mind. He absently rubbed his skin as pins and needles prickled his legs and feet uncomfortably. He grimaced when he stumbled on his feet, feeling literally weak on his knees. The micro-nap that he had had certainly not been enough, his head feeling no longer sluggish but distinctly light, weightless and quite empty. It took him a bit too long to spot the telephone on the nearby – and only – dresser.

There were few numbers that Tsuna knew by heart, one being home and another being Order. The nickname, weird and oddly linked to vigilante organization or even the police, fitted better than merely putting a person's name. He carefully composed the number, briefly thinking of international calls and their bills, and waited. He did not know what time it was in Japan, not feeling up to do the math, and merely hoped that he wouldn't wake up anyone – and that the bill would be paid by Reborn.

"Speak."

The harsh order, given by an already irritated voice, brought a smile on his lips.

"As courteous as ever, Hibari-sempai," the retort fell easily, and Tsuna basked in the familiarity.

He noticed Reborn narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, his mouth shaping the name with something close to recognition.

"Should have known that it was you," Hibari growled on the other line, making Tsuna wonder once again if being called you was a good thing or not by a guy who tended to split people into either herbivore or carnivore categories, "when a Sawada Nana vanished from my town."

"Vanished?" Tsuna repeated, alarmed and unconsciously straightening up.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi," he painstakingly separated the syllables, "why did you not inform me of your affiliation with the Italian Mafia Vongola Family?"

Flinching and wincing guiltily, Tsuna reminded himself that he hadn't known until Reborn popped up. "Not my fault!" He instantly protested, "neither Mom or I knew about it. I only learned it when people tried to kill me!"

"Not good enough," Hibari snapped back, "when citizens disappear from my territory. Sawada Nana has been taken away by Vongola sheep while I've been dealing with pests."

"Shit," Tsuna cursed, earning a swat on his head curtesy of Reborn, "they've already made a move. Sempai," he carried on a bit louder, "would you please tell the Sasagawa siblings and Kurokawa Hana what is going on? They," he paused, rubbing an eye tiredly, "they're targets 'cause they're my friends."

"Kusakabe's already taking care of it," Hibari dismissed his request and Tsuna would have been offended if he didn't know that it was true, the terrifying older teen didn't lie – he was frightening enough with the truth alone. "You better come back alive, Sawada Tsunayoshi," he ominously concluded as he hung up.

Tsuna stared blankly at the phone a little while longer, distractedly thinking that he would rather return to being you than hear his name infused with forbidding promise.

"Seemed that you forgot to include Hibari Kyōya in your list of friends," Reborn off-handedly commented beside him, making him start.

"Huh?" He unintelligently returned, putting the phone back on its place. "We're not friends. Just…" He faced the hitman, scrunching up his nose and waving his hands in a vague and meaningless gesture as he looked for the right word. "Business associates? I don't know, there isn't really a label. Hibari takes care of Namimori like a wolf watches over its territory, so when there's a problem, it's usually a good idea to go to him. Not that everyone does that," he added sotto voce, quite aware that it was difficult to get the older teen to listen.

"And yet, you do." Reborn stated, proving his excellent hearing.

"Well, yeah, but that's just because I've already helped Kusakabe a few times when he was a bit overwhelmed by," Tsuna realized that it was probably not a good idea to say too much, "by circumstances." Instead of letting the hitman pursue his questioning, he tackled on a question of his own. "You speak as if you know of him already."

"He's the nephew of an acquaintance," Reborn evasively replied.

Tsuna stopped on his way to the couch, glancing at the other with surprise. "You know Fon?"

Reborn blatantly stared at him for a few unnerving seconds, "that should be my line," he slowly responded, "how did you meet?"

The teen plopped down and among the cushions, taking the same place he was in before. Remembering the towel still on his head, he carried on drying his almost completely dry hair. He watched the hitman approach him leisurely, even as he gave a twitchy smile in answer to the query.

"I wouldn't really call that meeting," he wryly admitted, "more like, fighting back a heart attack when a stranger ninja'ed his way in my room in the middle of the night. Somehow, the mention of Hibari made it worse and explained a few things simultaneously," his smile turned into a chuckle. "Anyway, after calming down and sharing a cup of tea, Fon basically asked me to look after Hibari – as if I could do that – and left as abruptly though politely as he had appeared."

"Sounds like him, indeed," Reborn murmured silkily, eyes contemplative for the briefest of seconds before darkening back to their illegibility. "Take the bed, you need your rest."

"What about you?" Tsuna asked as he got up. "Won't you sleep?"

"I'll be fine." The hitman dismissed the teen as he wordlessly shooed him away. "Worry not."

Hesitating, Tsuna looked at him for a few more seconds, noting that Reborn had donned his suit once again, and finally complied, wondering if the other had planned to leave. He tried to convince himself that the perspective of being alone didn't frighten him.

He failed.

Nevertheless, his body was too exhausted for his mind's restlessness, and he succumbed to unconsciousness as soon as his head touched the pillow.

When Tsuna woke up several hours later, it was to the sight of messy raven hair. He blinked and stared blankly at it for a few moments, his brain sluggishly trying to determine why it was odd. Tilting his head and pressing his cheek against his comfy pillow, he peered at it. Privately thinking that it looked soft and even healthily shining, he wondered if it was as feathery to the touch as it seemed to be. He scrunched up his nose as the nagging persisted, his fingers twitching from beneath the pillow with the itch to touch to check. Closing his eyes once more, he took a deep breath to relax completely, unwilling to leave the comfortable haze brought by sleep. He caught an unfamiliar scent, nearly identical of the one drifting from his own brown locks – a mix of rosemary, honey and something else, something he didn't recognize, something that wasn't in his bottle of shampoo. Considering that they were sharing the same bottles of shampoo and shower gel, it was not surprising that Tsuna could smell it on Reborn too.

The quiet thought pierced the cloud obscuring his mind, and he snapped his eyes open, staring wide-eyed at the now-identified mess of Reborn's black hair. Shocked, he reeled back and sat up. Or rather, tried to. He was forced to stay down as the hold around his torso tightened, and he realized that his stomach currently served as a pillow for the hitman's head. Tsuna froze completely, stopping breathing altogether, as a pair of narrowed dark eyes rose slowly to glare at him.

Jaws working and lips moving, Tsuna was speechless for a few seconds, taken aback by Reborn's audacity. Until the glare lightened up with clear amusement at his embarrassment. Scowling but terribly aware that his cheeks were bright red, he sent his own dirty look and squirmed in attempt to escape. Reborn didn't move, nor did he need to, merely offering a lazy smirk at the teen's continuous efforts.

"What – you – this is – "Tsuna spluttered, words missing to describe the situation, and huffed in frustration.

"You've been out for ten hours," Reborn informed him as he struggled to express verbally his outrage. "It's already three in the afternoon."

"And how long have you been there?" Tsuna practically accused him, still squirming but not daring to use his free hand to shove the hitman away, the other limb being stuck as well.

"Long enough for a nap," Reborn offered no precision, entertained by the teen's struggle who had begun to kick the covers in his wiggling. "Judging by how lively you are, I take it that neither your scratch nor your fever bother you anymore?"

"How would I know? There's someone on me, preventing me from checking," he drawled pointedly, "and for the last time, I do not have a fever!"

"No longer," Reborn corrected him.

"Will you get off?" Tsuna sighed in exasperation, waving his free hand in a frustrated gesture.

"No."

Tsuna gaped at the blunt refusal, stunned. "Why?"

"I'm too comfortable."

Irritation flooded back, and Tsuna didn't even realize that his embarrassment had vanished. "You're unbelievable!"

"And you're oblivious," Reborn pointed out matter-of-factly, "and that, I'm afraid, is incurable. And the result of the most disastrous decision than I've ever seen."

"Insulting your pillow is unsightly," Tsuna scolded mildly, not even trying to understand the Italian sentence, "especially when said pillow doesn't want you there!"

"That was not what you said earlier," the hitman slyly noted, "when you asked me to stay. Here. With you."

"What?" Tsuna's eyes widened, paling then blushing, as he argued back, "I don't remember any of this!"

"Of course not," Reborn was smirking, amused still, "you had a slight fever, but you were so exhausted that it is unlikely that you remember anything. I'm rather surprised that you didn't develop one earlier, considering that your injury was graver than what I let you believe, that you treated it inappropriately and that you were functioning on too little sleep."

"Wha – "Tsuna looked astounded.

"Were you any weaker, the wound would have got infected. In the worst case, it would have festered, and you would have been forced to choose between losing your leg or your life."

A polite knock on the room door spared Tsuna from answering, his complexion almost grey as he stared incredulously – and accusingly – at the hitman. In contrast, Reborn's smirk widened, the previous amusement remaining, though darker and sharper.

"That," he drawled wickedly, "should be our clothes."

Chuckles poured out of his lips as he swiftly released a crimson Tsuna, getting up and rearranging his own bathrobe. The sight of the cloth reminded him that he was not wearing his usual pajamas indeed, and that he had slept with someone else half-naked. Utterly mortified, he smashed a pillow against his face, groaning miserably into it. He did not dare to move from the bed, listening to the quiet Italian discussion between the hotel staff and Reborn. It was still disconcerting to hear the hitman switch so easily between languages. Nothing was more puzzling than his moods, though.

Resigned to wait until their visitor left, Tsuna lifted the pillow from his face. Absently staring at it, he checked reflexively for his bonds. His mother's was still as silent as ever, understandably, as she was still far of his reach. His soulmate's, however, was thrumming pleasantly, mischievous and lazy. He wondered over it for a few moments, musing that something good must have happened to them – something unrelated to his work, most likely, as the emotions incited were usually darker and more twisted in nature.

The door clicked shut, snapping him out of his contemplation. Throwing his legs over the bed, he paused long enough to send a look at the bandages. After what Reborn had admitted, he was expecting to see them soaked in blood. Instead, there was nothing. Frowning, he contemplated the idea that the hitman had been pulling his leg, to get a rise from him. It wouldn't surprise him, but he didn't believe that it was a lie. A mistake then? Even in his mind, it sounded wrong. Sighing, Tsuna temporarily shrugged the matter away. If he did not get up quickly, Reborn would get impatient, and Tsuna was in no hurry to discover what the hitman would find to do to him to get him moving.

Tsuna found the clothes – a sky-blue shirt, white pants and even underwear – on the dresser, near the phone, Reborn's black fedora and several plates covered by cloches. It was the sight of the food that made him realize that he was positively famished. Before he could wonder where the man was, the bathroom door opened. Turning his head, he blinked and couldn't help the incredulous look that he sent to the man. Reborn had discarded the suit for another one, no longer black, but ivory. The touches of color came from the shirt and the band running around the almost identical fedora, both golden.

It should have been ridiculous, or odd, or awkward. It was not, and Tsuna noticed how the Italian's tanned skin contrasted nicely with the yellowish white of his suit. If he did not know better, he would have expected golden jewels to complete the picture. He suddenly cursed his interest in manga as images of Egyptian pharaohs popped in. Reborn raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, prompting him to react.

"Shouldn't we, huh, stick to discretion?" Tsuna ventured a remark, reminding himself that such colors were not suited for stealth, and looked back at the plates, focusing on his hunger.

"Blending in," Reborn replied, "or sneaking around. Which one is safer, according to you?"

"Neither?" Tsuna suggested, a bit cheekily, and stepped away from the dresser when the hitman approached.

"Eat before changing," Reborn ordered him even as he thrust two plates in his charge's hands, "and don't be a smartass. Think."

"I don't know," he shrugged, holding the plates but staying put, "when I was chased around, I did a bit of both. One moment, I pose as an Italian middle school student, another time, I slip away through a back door."

"To get lost in the crowd, what did you do?" The hitman gestured at him to sit on the couch with a hand holding two spoons and two napkins.

Tsuna obeyed, plopping down carefully to avoid upsetting the plates. He sat cross-legged, shifting around to lean against an armrest and to face Reborn at a reasonable distance. He traded a plate for a spoon and a napkin and refrained from twitching when their fingers brushed. Instead, he snorted at the question, a wry smile stretching his lips.

"Not much, I'm afraid." He delicately took hold of the cloche. "I only took off my jacket, changed my gait, started to wear my bag on my front instead of my back, and used my short height to pass off as younger than I am."

Reborn nodded with the look of someone who already knew that, snatching the cloche from his charge's grasp to put it on the floor near his own. He glanced pointedly at Tsuna, spinning his spoon around his fingers like a knife. Privately, Tsuna thought that it should be forbidden to look so menacing by merely twirling cutlery.

"Apparently, I was extremely lucky," he continued when the silence stretched, "or they're not very good at noticing people."

"A little bit of both, I would say," Reborn commented idly, then pointed at the shell-shaped pastries in their plates with his spoon, "these are sfogliatelle. Watch out for the filling, don't stain anything."

"Sure," Tsuna agreed absently, eyes fixed on the snacks. "I get that changing clothes help to trick eyes. Still, aren't there some…things to avoid?"

"In summer, clear colors are better worn that dark ones." The hitman delicately bit into a pastry, using the spoon to collect the leaking ricotta. "A question of temperature. Also, some of our pursuers will automatically pay further attention to people wearing dark shades, like black or blue. Of course, the clever ones won't be fooled as easily, but at least, we'll get rid of the dumbest."

"Are you going to ask me to dye my hair and to cut it?"

Reborn looked faintly amused at his question, his eyes flickering to the spiky mess. "Do you want to?" He shot back, giving a one-shoulder shrug. "It isn't necessary, and as soon as my involvement is known, it will be useless." He paused, growing contemplative. "It probably already is."

"Your involvement?" Tsuna repeated after swallowing his mouthful, faintly surprised to recognize vanilla in the cheesy filling. "Wait, when you said that you were the greatest hitman out there – "

"In a way, my reputation will deter quite a number of ambitious idiots," Reborn cut him off, using his spoon to scoop filling from a barely touched pastry. "I have a history of removing competition with obvious success. Of course, there will always be challengers and fools to try to surpass me, pointless as it is. After all, I never fail."

Tsuna stared at him for a few seconds, abruptly reminded that the man in front of him was a killer. "…Right," he agreed after another beat of silence, uneasy, "so, does that mean – what does that mean exactly?"

"It means, piccolino, that we're not staying here for another night." Reborn narrowed his eyes, a foreboding glint in his eyes. "We leave as soon as you're ready."

"We can leave like that?" Tsuna asked, a bit surprised. "Aren't we supposed to warn the hotel? Aren't there hours to do things like that?"

"I've already paid for two nights," the hitman cleaned his lips and fingers with his napkin, "and for the services. It doesn't matter for them if we leave now or tomorrow morning."

"Oh, alright then." Tsuna glanced down at his remaining pastries and started on another one.

"You didn't answer my earlier question." Reborn reminded him, putting his empty plate near the cloches. "Do you have a safe place to go?"

Licking his lips to catch a few drops of the cheesy cream, he hummed pensively as he chewed. "Well," he began after swallowing, "does the name Skull ring any bell?"

Reborn minutely shook his head, leaning back against the couch and watching him eat.

"He's among the most demanded stuntman in several fields, from movies to competitions," Tsuna paused, taking a bit then swallowing. "He's constantly on the move, always working, so he's hard to find. Anyway, I'll spare you the details, just, know that we bonded at the hospital a few years ago, sharing the same room and all, and he told me that, should I need a place to escape for a bit, then one of his places was available."

He didn't need to look up to know that there was a contemplating look in Reborn's eyes, boring straight into him. What Skull and he had discussed, shared and admitted, were no one's business but theirs.

"Where is this place?" The hitman chose to ask, avoiding the delicate matter.

"He gave me two, just in case," Tsuna kept his head down, sheepish, "were he to sell one of them."

Reborn was suitably unimpressed. "It is too much to hope that you have a way to reach him, isn't it?"

"Well," Tsuna paused in his eating, spoon hanging from his closed mouth as he thought, "I suppose," he continued as he slowly took out the utensil, "that the hospital might have his contact details."

"Unless you have their number…" he trailed off meaningfully.

"Right," Tsuna looked away, "then, I guess that we can wait until the next motorcycle stunt riding competition to meet with him. He never misses them."

There was a beat of silence as Reborn watched him eat, mulling over his words. Tsuna's spoon clicked against the plate as he cleaned it from every lick of cream.

"You check every year when and where the competition takes place," Reborn quietly guessed, his tone unjudgmental.

"I do," Tsuna confirmed just as softly and repeated, "just in case."

He uncrossed his legs, sliding down of the couch to crouch on the floor, and piled the plates. He put the spoons beside each other, took hold of the dishes and of the cloches, and stood up. He was immobile for a heartbeat or two, eyes focused elsewhere, briefly forgetting the room, the situation and the company.

"This year, it will take place in Kilkenny, a town in the Province of Leinster, in Eire," He heard himself say, his own voice startling him. "It begins on the first of September."

"Very well," Reborn's baritone snapped him further from his thoughts, "we have three weeks to get there."

"Yeah, right," Tsuna shuffled towards the dresser, putting his load back where he had found it. He took the clothes in his arms but paused before walking towards the bathroom. "The places, do you want me to tell you where they are?"

He shifted on his feet when Reborn continued to stare at him, unreadable and unresponsive. He fought down the urge to run to the bathroom, to escape from these sharp dark eyes that seemed to read his mind and soul. Instead, he clutched the clothes to his chest, withstanding the gaze as evenly as he could.

"No," Reborn finally decided, "not yet. Keep them safe, piccolino, should you find yourself on your own, you will have a refuge to go to."

Biting his lower lip, Tsuna nodded and fled into the bathroom, unnerved both by the hitman's behavior and his words. Once inside, he let the familiarity of the routine relax him. He stopped thinking about the imminent departure, the hunt, his lack of information about his mother and his friends, and he merely did what he should. It was only when he was dressed, starting to put on the socks, that he remembered about his foot. He looked around, eyes sweeping the room and caught an unfamiliar bag near the bin. Crouching, he ruffled through it and took out both an antiseptic and another roll of bandages. Sitting on the tiled floor, he unraveled the previous dressing and threw it in the bin. He stared.

Blinking, he let his hand hover over the antiseptic. The wound was drastically different from what he remembered. Smaller. Duller, as he tested purposefully by flexing his foot. He knew that he was a fast healer, but it was never that swift. Either he had developed some amazing healing abilities, or he had misjudged when previously examining. He had been tired. Deciding that it was not worth panicking, he dressed the wound carefully, put the antiseptic back in the bag, put his socks on and took the medicine with him. Checking the room one last time to ensure that he wasn't forgetting anything, Tsuna went out.

He found Reborn kneeling on the floor, looking intently at several spread-out maps. He was on the verge of asking the hitman about pocket dimensions when he noticed that the dishes had been cleared out.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah, I think so," he replied after a tiny start at the unexpectedness. "It's not as if we had luggage when we came."

"Indeed," Reborn murmured as a finger traced a path, caressing the paper. "You don't have a driving license, do you?"

"Well, no." Tsuna went a few steps closer, squinting down at the maps, recognizing Italy and its neighboring countries. "Doesn't mean I don't know how to handle an ordinary motorbike."

"Forced by circumstances, I guess," Reborn shot him a pointed look. "What about a car?"

"I wouldn't recommend it." His answer was frank, as he had never taken lessons or even touched a wheel. "Unless there's really no other choice, it would be safer to keep me away from any wheels, pedals or gear shifts."

"I'll keep that in mind," the hitman replied wryly as he folded back each of the maps. "Do you know how to fight?"

Tsuna had known that the question would have made an appearance eventually. It didn't mean that he had a satisfying answer to give.

"Not really," he looked away, burying his hands in his pockets. "Ryōhei gave me a few boxing lessons while Kusakabe taught me to fight dirty during the rare scuffles I got caught into. I know no martial arts, so yeah, I'm probably rather useless."

"That won't do." Reborn bluntly chided him, getting up. He cuffed him on the head on his way to the dresser, putting the maps beside his black hat. "If you want to survive the following months, piccolino, you need to change your attitude."

Tsuna watched him prowl closer to him, resisting the urge to inch back when dark eyes locked with his own. His cheek twitched when Reborn caught his chin with three fingers, unyielding and almost painful.

"Until know, you've been exceptionally well-behaved, taking everything in stride and following my lead," Reborn murmured pensively, "but that's not enough." The grip turned painful as he glared straight into brown eyes, leaving him no choice but to look and to listen, "Greatest or not, I am not a miracle worker. If you're not even trying to stay alive, I might as well shoot you right now. It will save me headaches, pointless efforts and wasted time."

"Stating the truth and giving up are two different things," his voice was strained as he fought the restricting hold, eyes venomous. "I do not plan on dying on you, but rather after another fifty years or so. I merely figured that it would be best for you to know of my non-existent fighting prowess, instead of thinking that I might be able to do anything against armed and experienced trackers."

"It's settled, then." Reborn gave him a smirk, utterly unaffected by the hostility. "I'll be training you as we traveled. With enough tenacity, we might even get rid of your clumsiness."

Tsuna stilled, watching him uncomprehendingly. "What?" He squinted at the other's smugness. "Training? We're on the run!"

Reborn loosened his grip, keeping two fingers beneath his chin and tapping his thumb against Tsuna's lower lip, effectively freezing him.

"Yes," he confirmed patiently, "it's an excellent opportunity. You need to learn how to defend yourself and how to counter-attack. I have three weeks to determine which tactics work best for you. I will not always be there to watch your back and I refuse to save you just for you to succumb to a pathetic plot as soon as you're on your own. Of course, I will not merely train your body, but your mind as well. Idiocy is quite fatal, I'm afraid."

He released Tsuna completely, but did not take a step back, crowding the other intentionally. He watched with amusement as his charge instantly stumbled away, eyes wide and cheeks rusting.

"I don't have a choice in the matter, do I?" Tsuna ended up asking rhetorically once he managed to get his throat to work.

"Indeed not," Reborn grinned, shark-like and utterly frightening. "Starting today, I am both your extremely skillful bodyguard and your gorgeous tutor. Please, do take care of me."

His amusement heightened at Tsuna's flustered reaction, as he fumbled and settled on a muttered, "that should be my line."

"Now," Reborn refocused his charge on the present, "get going. We have to be in France by tomorrow morning."

To say that the Alps were beautiful would be like saying that the temperature in winter was a bit low. It was worse than putting it mildly, it was downright lying.

Tsuna leaned forward on his seat, tugging absently on the seat belt. He didn't even notice Reborn's glance at him with amusement at his admirative wonder. His attention was riveted on the majestic mountains, drinking in their sight and noting every difference. Their cheaply acquired Renault was smoothly entering another town – Courmayeur, still in Italy – and Tsuna was once again struck by how small the mountain chain made him feel, as cliff faces and ridges cut through the sky, piercing through some low white clouds. Paradoxically, he did not feel trapped, but almost peacefully insignificant. People were quite nothing in front of such splendors. He craned his neck as he followed a forest of pines and spruces, larches and other conifers. Their cappuccino-colored sedan negotiated a bend smoothly, and the greenery vanished for a cliff of hard grey, rocky and sharp, softened with splashes of white – the snow covering few areas. At another turn, Tsuna was suddenly gazing straight into a lack, a gap where he could behold the luxuriant valley – multicolored with fields of different flowers – and protected by the mountains around. It was a sight he never suspected he would have contemplated in his life, through his own eyes.

In truth, Tsuna did not really expect to leave far from Namimori. It was where his home with, where his lonely mother had raised him on his own, where he had been cared for and where he had experienced life in hardships and blessings alike. The idea of leaving had not often crossed his mind, and yet, as he gazed at the soothing beauty of anchored giants, he entertained the thought that traveling to find such treasures with his mother wouldn't be so bad.

"What is on your mind, piccolino?"

Eyes still fixed on the wide Alps, Tsuna answered in a voice as soft as his smile. "Even if I'm there because there are people trying to kill us, I'm glad to be here. Otherwise, I know I would have never seen this marvel. You might just be doing your job, but you could have chosen other ways, so… thanks, Reborn." Tsuna glanced at him, softening into genuine gratefulness. "Thanks for showing me this."

Reborn scoffed at him, wordlessly, but inclined his head, lips slightly curling in the ghost of a smile. Silence fell again, only truly disturbed by the purring of the engine. Tsuna put his chin on his hand, elbow propped on the edge of the window. He started when the glass slid down on its own, and a quick look at the hitman showed him focused on the road, paying apparently no mind to him. Instead of extracting an admission, Tsuna took the invitation and leaned against the door, crossing his arms and resting his head on them, wind ruffling his locks freely. Peacefulness sneaked into the car, cocooning them as the trees burn with flameless orange and red, and warm hues covered the mountains as crepuscule fell.

Muffling a yawn, Tsuna strengthened back in his seat ten minutes later or so, hand patting around until he found the switch to close the window. Despite sleeping ten hours, he still felt absurdly tired. Shooting a look through the windshield, he noticed that they were approaching a toll.

"Shouldn't we avoid roads like these?"

"Money isn't an issue," Reborn dismissed the concern, "Neither are the cameras. Besides, I would rather take the Mont-Blanc tunnel to cross borders. Less of a headache."

"Yeah," Tsuna cautiously replied, "but what of our papers? Don't we need visas or something?"

"France is visa-free for tourists, Italian or Japanese for ninety days. Stop worrying and sleep," the hitman ordered him with a pointed look. "Training begins early."

Tsuna scrunched up his nose at him, aware that Reborn was evading the question, but unwilling to start an argument. He would rather keep the quietness surrounding them a bit longer. Leaning back against his seat, he closed his eyes and a few drowsy seconds later, he was fast asleep.

Only to jerk awake nearly three hours later, sitting up abruptly, heart beating in his chest frantically. Eyes wide, he heard the quiet shuffle of a cloth following from his chest and knees to the floor. Squinting through the darkness brought by lack of streetlamps but hindered by the natural shine of a waxing moon and of its starry companions, Tsuna recognized the white – ivory – lump. Leaning down – and realizing the absence of a seat belt to awkwardly interfere with his movement – he picked Reborn's vest up. Fingers smoothing down the fabric reflexively, he looked around for any sign of his absent driver. There was none to find, as expected.

While Tsuna had no idea what had awaken him so, he suspected the fact that being alone, at night, in a car, with who-knows-how-many assassins after them certainly did wonders for his intuition's paranoia.

A quiet noise, of crushed gravel and dry earth, alerted him of another presence. Tsuna stilled in his seat, slowly down his breathing and hushing it as best as he could, and closed his eyes, listening intently. The sound repeated, coming from his right – from his side of the car, careful but not silent. In the silence of the night, it was loud and therefore, extremely hard to miss. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that it wasn't Reborn who was coming. Not only the hitman had no interest in being quiet when approaching him, but Tsuna firmly believed that the man would move like a ghost – eerily soundless. No, whoever was there should not find him.

Tsuna looked back down at his clothes, inwardly cursing Reborn for thinking that they wouldn't need to sneak in the shadows for a few days. Apparently, he had been wrong in his assumption. And now, the both of them were like two beacons in the obscurity. Sighing inaudibly his anxious frustration, he tried to think. He did not know where exactly the other was, so, bursting now through the door would only make him a target. He couldn't stay there either, stillness and white clothes made quite the sitting duck. Slowly, he put Reborn's vest on the flat dashboard. The crushing noise of steps paused somewhere behind him at his right, and for a few seconds, he feared that his intention had been guessed. When the sound picked up, closer but slightly hurried, Tsuna knew that he didn't have much time.

He crawled from his passenger seat to the driver's, wincing when his hip collided with the gear shift. On his way, he smashed an alit button, recognizing it as the switch for central locking. Reborn most likely had locked the car when he left, figuring that it would be idiotic to let the doors open and therefore preventing Tsuna from being even more vulnerable. Not that it was very useful if his killer chose to break the window first or shoot through it, but still. Finally reaching the driver's door, Tsuna stretched his hand and pulled on the handle. It opened almost inaudibly, whatever sound was covered by the crush of gravel alarmingly close. He slid out once the gap was wide enough for him, falling into a graceless but hushed crouch. He pushed the door closed seconds before the other tore the passenger's open.

There was a curse – still in Italian. Tsuna kept his back pressed against the car, wildly wondering if he should break into a sprint or stay put. The decision was taken from him when he heard the telltale steps starting to circle the sedan. He instantly crouched back down, using feet and hands to back away towards the trunk while the other went further towards the front. He vaguely wondered why they didn't merely look beneath the chassis to check if there wasn't another pair of feet. Not that he was complaining. Any oversight of this nature was quite welcome, in his opinion.

Reaching the trunk, Tsuna stilled, listening to the less and less silent steps coming towards him. What should he do next? Run? Continue to play hide-and-seek? Confront whoever it was? Open the trunk and hide inside? Trapping himself wouldn't do him any good. He sucked at fighting, especially against experts. He might be somehow fast and agile, with his whole dodging and running around he spent doing in Namimori, but he did not believe he could outrun a bullet. Besides, he had no idea where Reborn was.

When the steps came closer once more, Tsuna circled around once more. Why was the hitman away, anyway? Distracting and otherwise dispatching the accomplices? Caught into a trap? Wounded or worse? Ducking his head to avoid smashing his face into the side-view mirror, Tsuna stopped beside the right headlight. He could see distant streetlamps in front of him, in linear patterns. There was a town there, and the dark masses around him were cars, on their own for the night. The nearest one was beyond the driving alleys, parked at the next row. It wasn't very far, it was merely a matter of fifty meters or so.

It looked closer to fifty kilometers.

Breathing out, Tsuna shifted his stance. His stalker was still towards the trunk, paused in their tracks for whatever reason. It was his only opportunity to move. He fixed his gaze on his aim – the car in front of him – and inwardly counted down. It was merely another run, another sprint, another escape. If he had managed to run on Venetian roofs, then crossing the alley of a parking was child's play. Striking three, he pushed on his legs and threw his arms, bolting away from their Renault. He winced at the resounding crunch of the gravel but didn't slow down, especially when his stalker cursed at him and followed.

Figuring that their hide-and-seek had evolved into a tag game, Tsuna slid into a crouch as soon as he reached his aimed car. He didn't wait for his pursuer to catch up, and instantly glanced around for another target. He waited for a few heartbeats, keeping track of the other – the one being "It". Treating the situation like a game surprisingly cleared his head. He took a few steps forward, squatting awkwardly and muffling his own steps as much as he could. He stayed low, passing from the car to another, taking advantage of them being parked together.

"It" was coming closer, no longer bothering to quiet down. It was therefore both easier for Tsuna to deduce their position and harder for him to focus, the carelessness somehow proving that "it" wasn't worried over attracting attention from another party. Shaking his head in silent chiding for getting distracted, Tsuna let his gaze swept around. He was steadily making his way closer to the town. The lights would make it easier to spot him but there was a higher chance to find help in the borough.

Tsuna set the bulky metallic silhouette of a SUV as his next goal. Tilting his head on the side, he caught the sound of "Its" steps coming from the back of the car he was hiding behind. He broke into another sprint, focused on reaching the SUV. Something horizontal blocked his way, and he vaulted over it without pausing. He tripped as he landed, the sharp sound of a gunfire striking the quietness. Heart stuttering, Tsuna resumed his run with the energy of adrenaline and fear, and passed over the SUV, not stopping.

"Ehi!" The previously cursing voice shouted. "Wait! The next bullet won't miss!"

It was still Italian, still unintelligible for Tsuna, and he didn't bother looking back or slowing down. He could guess the intention anyway. At least, he now knew that his stalker was a guy. He rather doubted that he would meet another Rosa so quickly. He was approaching a road, a proper one with concrete and white markings. He was also getting closer to the streetlamps, and he was certain that he was an even better target now. Still, he didn't stop or change direction, even if it quickly became obvious that the road was far from being deserted.

There was a Peugeot, engine still running, in the middle. The tires were in a lamentable state, and there were traces behind, indicating forceful braking. Three bodies were on the ground, leaking pools of blood, in various positions – two reaching for their clattered weapons and the other caught in a fleeing stance. The windshield was cracked, a web spreading from a unique point of impact. Beyond the screen, Tsuna could see the corpse of a woman half-collapsed against her seat.

And, in front of the cadavers, stood Reborn. Unharmed, unfazed and clothes pristine. Completely untouched.

Stepping into the light of the streetlamp, Tsuna froze, eyes wide. His Italian stalker slipped from his mind as he stared at the sight of a single-handedly created slaughter. Face whitening, he skidded into a halt, tripping over loose gravel. His breathing turned into irregular pants from both his run and his horror. Swallowing convulsively, he blinked a few times and fixed his gaze on Reborn.

If he had ever forgotten who Reborn was, the multiple corpses were a sharp wake-up call.

The hitman, evidently, instantly noticed him. Turning around with abject grace, gleaming dark eyes latched into his shivering form. Tsuna stiffened like a deer caught in the headlights, mind torn between two different reactions – staying put or fleeing – or rather, two emotions – trust or terror. He was dimly aware that his respiration wasn't calming, sounding incredibly loud. Reborn took a step towards him and he couldn't help it, his nerves finally getting the best of him – Tsuna flinched. He instantly felt guilty when something flashed in Reborn's eyes, expression closing off.

The tension shattered into sharp pieces when a gunshot exploded into the silence.

It was only Tsuna's inhuman intuition that saved him. He dropped like a stringless puppet, using the momentum for a forward roll. He stumbled on his feet seconds later, feeling dizzy from the abrupt and unplanned movement. Inwardly, he cursed himself for forgetting the other guy. Turning his head around, he watched warily as his stalker stepped closer, gun clenched tightly in his hand as he kept it aimed at Tsuna's head.

"Can't say I'm really surprised," the Italian guy commented, eyeing the pair with suspicious watchfulness. "Vongola's hard to kill, after all. Still, it's always impressive to witness stuff like that."

Tsuna recognized the name but paid it no mind. He could finally match a face with a voice. He didn't know if he was disappointed or unnerved to see that the other looked perfectly ordinary. He stiffened when the average Joe suddenly tutted at Reborn, waving the gun at Tsuna.

"I wouldn't move if I were you, Mr. Whatever-you-are. I'm not taking any risk with you – not after seeing you take down a car full of armed comrades, without breaking a sweat."

"In that case," Reborn drawled, obediently staying put, "you should know that you have no chance."

Tsuna fidgeted nervously, feeling light-headed. He desperately wanted to return to the Renault and forget everything. He didn't want to see the corpses, nor did he want to smell the soon-to-come putrid gazes, nor did he want to hear the Peugeot's engine or their Italian discussion. It was a nightmare.

"Doesn't seem like he's used to handle situations like these," the guy contemplatively noted, eyes flicking from Tsuna – currently trying to control his quickening breathing – and back to the hitman.

He could recognize that it was true, even without Reborn's lack of answer. The gun changed targets as he decided that threatening directly the deadliest of them was a safer bet.

It was exactly what Reborn wanted.

With a slow smirk, the hitman shook lightly his head in disapproval. "You shouldn't have done that, pivello."

Said rookie scowled at Reborn and fired in a pure move of contradiction. Tsuna froze completely, holding his breath and watching with horrified eyes. His attention was so focused on Reborn that he caught how dark eyes flared with a fleeting yellow. It lasted less than a second and when Tsuna blinked, he found Reborn standing right in front of him, their previous attacker collapsed on the ground behind him.

"I know that you're not the sharpest tool in the shed," the hitman was saying, "but even idiots like you know the importance of breathing."

Tsuna stared at him uncomprehendingly for two heartbeats, eyes noticing the existence of curling sideburns. His mind stuck with the observation, and he wondered how he didn't see them before. His fingers twitched with the sudden and inexplicable urge to touch them, to see if they were real. He didn't. Instead, he forced himself to look elsewhere. His gaze met dark eyes.

"Huh," he rasped in an exhale, before sucking in a breath automatically, "I could have sworn they were different." He slightly tilted his head to the side, puzzled. "Gleaming, a bit like – like a sunglow…"

"You're in shock." Reborn stated in answer, but even he couldn't completely mask how startled he had been by the remark.

"Yeah," Tsuna agreed, eyes still intensely focused on Reborn as he refused to look beyond. He recalled the gunshot and the hitman's appearing in front of him but couldn't remember for the life of him what happened in-between. "Are you okay?"

Reborn didn't reply instantly, stilling in front of him. His expression had lost its stony characteristic, shifting into something close to bemusement. It was his turn to stare searchingly at Tsuna, keen eyes looking for something – earnestness or dishonesty, maybe.

"Yes," he answered finally, "I'm fine."

"You got shot," Tsuna protested, eyebrows creasing.

"A gun was fired," he corrected, "but no bullet touched me. You were also getting shot at, but as I don't see any wound on you, you weren't harmed either."

"No," Tsuna confirmed, then added, "but I'm not okay."

"No, you're not okay," Reborn echoed and slowly, his hands settled on his charge's shoulders and turned him around before they dropped back at his side. "You won't be for a while, but you'll get better."

Tsuna obeyed to the unspoken command, stepping back in the shadows. When Reborn seemed about to step ahead, he caught the man's little finger, struck by the sudden fear that the hitman would vanish right in front of his eyes. Reborn glanced at him, inquisitive and – for anyone else – hesitant, but indulged him. The air was tense, and the quietness haunting.

They found the Renault easily enough, the passenger door still open, and otherwise completely fine. Tsuna slid inside with the automatic movements of a zombie, gazing unseeingly at the ivory vest on the dashboard. He didn't take it back or offer it back to Reborn. In fact, he did not realize that the hitman was beside him until the engine purred, a high-pitched noise alerting them that no seat belts were on. It took him several tries before he managed to lock it. His eyes were drawn to the clock.

"Midnight," he read softly, his voice barely disturbing the silence. "Only two days."

Reborn didn't answer, maneuvering the car out of its parked position.

"Will the nights be like this each time?"

Tsuna shut his eyes, not wanting to see the road. Something fell into his lap. His fingers traced a familiar fabric and he recognized Reborn's vest. He folded it without opening his eyes, merely following the already existing pleats. He kept it there, an index tapping a meaningless pattern.

"I can't promise you that it won't happen again," Reborn admitted a few minutes later, as he drove them away from the Peugeot.

Tsuna paused and covered his closed eyes with a hand, feeling them sting.

"I know," he whispered, "but I just – I need time," his voice broke on the last word, and he coughed to clear his throat. "It's a lot – "he swallowed, fighting to keep his voice from wobbling. "I'll be fine, just, just not right now. Nor tomorrow. Later."

"Indeed," Reborn murmured in soft agreement. "You won't be alone, piccolino," he added firmly, the barest hint of a promise layered in his voice.

Tsuna nodded silently, keeping his hand covering his teary eyes and the other on the ivory vest. His mind drifted to his bonds, and he basked into his soulmate's echoing solemn determination, rocked into sleep by Reborn's smooth driving.

The following weeks strove to be the most challenging Tsuna ever had to live through. He would have liked to blame Reborn's unrelenting and unbelievably harsh training for the constant exhaustion. The continuous running around, from town to village, from village to farms, farms to sleep under stars, until the cycle began anew with slight variations to keep from being too predictable, was taxing for him – used as he was to stay in one place, in one home. Meeting new faces every day, listening to nonsensical words, balancing bustling crowds and serene solitude, was sometimes too much for him – being very much used to be in the company of three persons at the largest for long periods of time.

Most of all, it was taming his own mind that drained him. He was worrying over his mother and his friends for hours during the day, fervently praying that no ill would fall on them and that he would meet them again soon. Paradoxically, he rarely stressed over his own precarious situation. His nights were no better, waking up from almost gory and haunting nightmares or foreboding and disquieting dreams, when he wasn't suffering from insomnia, keeping watch while Reborn rested for a few hours.

Ironically, as they had time before the beginning of the competition and as Reborn did not wish for whoever was tracking them to find out about their goal, they lingered in France. Between being trained to the ground and escaping from approaching threats, the duo essentially acted like odd tourists. As the hitman pointed out to him one morning,

"We're essentially stuck there until the timing is right for us to leave. Instead of needlessly worry over matters that you can't change, take advantage of the opportunity."

Tsuna couldn't exactly deny the truth of his words. And so, he let Reborn guide him and show him that France was more than the Eiffel Tower and frog's legs, but fields of vibrant lavenders, ancient stones guarding lakes and hills, and booming laughs shared over hearty meals. Tsuna found himself rather surprised by the welcome and curiosity shown by most of the people they met as they drove through the country – changing cars as they went. He expected rather mistrust and cold aloofness but most of them didn't bat an eyelash when an Italian showed up with an Asian, apparently used to meet diversity – especially in tourists. They were, in fact, slightly bemused that the odd duo was avoiding the cities and other popular places and chose to visit further the countryside.

"Not that there aren't any pearls out there," an Art History student was justifying herself, slightly defensive and in a heavily accented English – not that Tsuna was any better.

She handed him a glass of apple juice, joining him on the healthy green grass. Tsuna took it with quiet thanks, cross-legged in the pleasant garden, among patches of pink sea thrifts, yellow dandelions, purple campanulas and heather. The wind was barely a caress on his cheek, shyly agreeable. Blue hydrangeas, white rhododendron and red camellia concealed the sight of shaded woods and of the greyish gate. The scene was serenely beautiful. It couldn't be more at odds with the reality, Tsuna thought without bitterness but with wry amusement.

"It's just," she carried on, sipping her little bowl of sweet cider and oblivious to his musings, "that tourists tend to go to the big things, like Paris, Cannes or Saint-Tropez with a quick jump to Mont-Saint-Michel and Chambord, and that's that. As if Saint-Malo wasn't a nice town to get lost into, or as if there weren't old churches to see besides the one in Chartres."

At this point, Tsuna was just nodding along. He had only the faintest idea about what she was speaking about, and he wasn't confident enough about his own talent in Languages to answer. He could relate at some level, knowing that foreign tourists in Japan tended to stick to the cities like Tōkyō and Kyōto, and wouldn't really take the time to appreciate the peacefulness of the countryside or visit quiet museums in Hokkaidō about the Ainu.

She suddenly released a sigh, smiling at him nervously. "Anyway, we're not there to rant, right?"

"It's fine," Tsuna reassured her, twirling the amber liquid with a distracted gesture, "this type of thing, clichés and such, it's something that every country share, but that everyone still falls into."

"That's sad," she made a face at her drink, "but true."

"Your garden is beautiful," he broke the silence, reacting before it could turn awkward.

She brightened up, dimples appearing as her lips stretched in a smile. "Thanks, my uncle will be delighted to hear that. It's him that takes care of it, after all." She glanced over her shoulder, curly brown hair falling over her chest. "They're still talking, huh."

Tsuna didn't follow her gaze, keeping his eyes on the flowers. He shrugged noncommittally.

"Not really nice of him to shoo you away like that."

"I don't mind," Tsuna objected. "My English isn't very good, and my French is even worse. Whatever they're talking about, I can't help. Better for me to be out of the way."

"Your English isn't so bad," she contradicted him, frowning. "Alright, alright, I get your point. You don't want to disturb them."

A black-headed gull gave a cry above them, sounding very much like a mocking laugh. It flew over the garden, angling its wings to catch a crosswind and disappearing over tall trees to follow the flow of a nearby river.

"Uncle said that you're leaving soon," she stretched her legs, leaning back on a hand. "As soon as they conclude whatever deal they have."

"Yeah," Tsuna confirmed, evasively elaborating, "time to move."

"Ah, you're traveling around the world?" She asked, curious. "Or Europe?"

"Something like that," he gave her a wry smile, glancing at her. "We don't know yet how far we're going."

She quirked an eyebrow, answering with a teasing smile. "Feeling adventurous?"

"Exactly," he chuckled, amused by the irony, "no destination, no deadline, but fortuitous meetings and fickle decisions."

"Sounds like freedom," she commented airily, then mischievous, "sounds like you're eloping."

"Like what?" Tsuna sipped his drink, confused over the last word.

"You don't know the word?" She looked greatly amused by the fact, strengthening up. An impish gleam appeared in her green eyes. "It means running away in order to get secretly married, like, you know, marrying your lover without telling your disapproving parents."

She cracked up when he chocked on his apple juice, spluttering protests in English and Japanese alike. She downed her remaining cider and put it down on the ground, beside her hip.

"You know," she added off-handedly, "the more you deny, the less likely I am to believe you."

She smirked when he glared at her. He then rolled his eyes, finishing his apple juice – or rather what was left of it, most lost in in the grass. She ignored his reaction, crossing her legs and sliding around to face him properly, an expectant look on her face.

"So?" She prompted. "Where did you meet?"

"In Venice," Tsuna answered reluctantly, wondering what Reborn would think of that. "We were in the same hotel."

"How romantic!" She exclaimed, feigning to swoon. "Which one?"

"I don't remember the name," he admitted, wriggling his nose. "It was something fancy, near the Grand Canal."

"And?" She pressed, looking like she was enjoying herself immensely. "How did you two meet, really?"

'By scaring the crap out of him' didn't seem like a good answer, though truthful.

"We bumped into each other, in the hall." He stuck to the truth as closely as he could, knowing that it made lies easier and believable. "It was… unexpected. A complete surprise." He paused, searching for his words and noticed that she was giving him her whole attention. "The first time it happened, I was intimidated. Well, you've seen him," he added with a vague gesture.

"He looks like a – an intense kind of guy." She agreed, nodding.

Tsuna snorted at the understatement. "The second time, I was climbing stairs in – "he hesitated a split-second "– an opera, the, huh, Fenice, I think it was. To visit. Well, I'm clumsy so I tripped. He caught me before I fell." Then, because he couldn't resist a jab, "It was smooth and all, until he taunted me for being a klutz."

She snickered. "You do know that you're not helping your case? I mean, you've met in Venice, one of the most romantic places, a meeting between a shy guy and a very blunt one, instantly creating sparks through jabs and banters that turned less hurtful but more playful as time passes and you get to know each other."

Tsuna paused in his (inward) frantic elaboration of a believable story, letting her words sink. To his chagrin, he felt his cheeks redden.

"And now, you're blushing!" She gushed, good-natured but teasing. "So adorable!"

"Who's adorable?"

Tsuna groaned, hiding his deepening blush into his hands, glass discarded on the grass. She squeaked in surprise, whirling around to see Reborn standing there, smirking at their reactions. Her uncle was nowhere to be seen.

"Shinzō is, of course!" She chuckled, looking at Tsuna with a grin. "Don't you agree, Leon?"

Reborn quirked an eyebrow, eyes flicking from one to another. Tsuna peeked up, dreading the hitman's next words. He was not disappointed.

"He is, isn't he?" Reborn hummed in agreement, prowling closer with his natural predatory grace, not making any effort to conceal – as usual. "One of his many charms."

Long and calloused fingers ruffled his hair, tugging slightly on his locks. Tsuna was certain he had never been so embarrassed – and his face so red.

"Shinzō was telling me about your first meetings," she ignored his pleading look, enjoying making him squirm and too curious about the odd pair. "Sounded like tough beginnings."

"I have always enjoyed challenges," Reborn replied without missing a heartbeat, his eyes alit with the amusement of a private and untold joke. "Shinzō is the hardest that I have ever faced." He paused, belatedly adding, "one that I enjoy facing every day."

Tsuna winced at the statement, took one look at her – eyes sparkling and a perpetual delighted smile – and sighed heavily.

"You didn't have to encourage her, you know," he mumbled to the hitman, mildly exasperated.

"Indeed not," he agreed. "You did a job well enough on your own."

"It wasn't as if I planned it!" Tsuna hissed at him, tilting his head up to frown at him. "She came to this conclusion on her own."

"Of course, she would." Reborn deadpanned. "She is open-minded and romantic. She saw two guys with nationalities, cultures and backgrounds completely different. One clearly is used to travel around, judging by his master of languages and his adaptability, while the other is painfully awkward and knows only his native tongue. And yet, they're together, traveling without letting anyone know where they're going, how long they will keep moving and what their goal is. Obviously, she's not going to suspect the truth."

Tsuna glanced away, hearing only what he already knew. "You're going to use that as our cover story, aren't you?"

The hitman merely gave him a look. Resigned, Tsuna dropped his shoulders. He tried not to shiver as Reborn's fingers treaded through his messy hair, caressing and tugging on his locks irregularly and absently. It was nice, soothing, and with the warmth of the sun stroking his cheeks, he knew that he would fall asleep if he were to close his eyes. Silence settled between them, Reborn gazing at an inconspicuous shrub of colorful milkvetch among the rhododendron while coaxing Tsuna into sleep under their host's niece's kindly amused watch.

Less than five minutes later, her uncle came back to them, a smile crinkling the corner of his eyes. He threw the jiggling keys in his hands at Reborn – who caught them without looking. The uncle didn't stop, only pausing once reaching his niece. She stood up, sensing that their guests were leaving.

"All done," her uncle was stating. "Not as new as she was when I bought her, but I took great care of her over the years, changing a few things when needed. Keep in mind that her fuel consumption is, well, a nightmare, so you'll want to get service-stations quite often on your way." He paused, eyeing them critically. "You'll want more layers, especially the kid."

"His name's Shinzō," his niece reminded him. "He's also older than he looks."

Her uncle snorted. "Yeah, sure," he dismissed. "I think I still have some of my son's equipment, at least a leather jacket. Might be a bit big, but better than this jean vest."

"I wouldn't want to bother you," Tsuna protested, startled into awareness by the discussion, standing up.

"None of that crap with me, it's not like my son's going to need it. It's also the very least I can do when I'm getting a De la Chapelle Roadster in exchange."

"You don't have a choice, piccolino." Reborn noted when their host returned inside, while his niece guided them around the house towards the front gate.

The three of them paused in front of a motorbike – a Yamaha, as pointed out by the white name neatly inscribed. Tsuna didn't need to be a specialist to know that being the passenger wouldn't be as uncomfortable as he could have apprehended, but considering the ride awaiting them, no matter how soft the seat looked, it wouldn't be enough. With his muscles already aching from his tutor's training, it would turn out to be painful, and he winced in anticipation.

"The 1992's model," she recognized, knowing it well enough. "Naked, obliviously. Has more style like that."

"Of course," her uncle scoffed, getting back to them with multiple cardboard boxes. "Got a few things for you to try on, kiddo." He added with a nod in Tsuna's direction. "We'll see what might fit."

It only occurred to Tsuna, as he glanced from the moto to Reborn, that the hitman had planned the switch. After all, August in Brittany was milder than in the south, but it was still summer. Wearing leather when the temperature regularly went over 20°C was asking for discomfort. Yet, he looked utterly unaffected with his black leather jacket, black Kevlar jeans and black leather boots. In fact, his black and white T-shirt, with a stylized Triskel, was almost too discrete. He was missing gloves – gloves that their host was throwing to him as an afterthought. The look was almost complete, and Tsuna still didn't understand how Reborn wasn't incredibly hot and sweaty right now.

Of course, Reborn chose this moment to meet his gaze, giving a lazy smirk.

Valiantly fighting back a terrible blush, Tsuna looked away and down at his clothes – jeans and T-shirts, ordinary and comfortable, without forgetting about the canvas shoes – and thought that he really looked like the average teenager, albeit one with taste. Which automatically meant that it wasn't him who had picked the clothes – true – as anyone passing by him in Namimori knew that he had very little interest in his image.

"Here, try these on."

Tsuna blinked at the pair of boots thrust under his nose. Even without putting them on, he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep them on.

"Huh, my size is too small for them," he pointed out quietly.

His host was undeterred, kneeling beside the boxes and rummaging the items inside. "I'm not really surprised that you got small feet." He muttered pensively, discarding something that Tsuna couldn't identify. "No matter, I'm sure I've got something for you. I can't let you on this beauty without a minimum of protection."

While Tsuna resigned himself for fitting tests, the niece and the hitman stood a bit away from the other pair, watching but not participating. Reborn flexed his hands and fingers as he put the gloves on, checking the suppleness of his movements. It would do, even if he would have chosen something else.

"Is he your Mathilda?"

Reborn paused, giving her a sharp glance. She wasn't looking at him, her attention focused on Tsuna. Her body language was stiff with apprehensive tension, arms crossed defensively, hands in fists to hide their slight tremors. She knew what he was – or at least, had a strong suspicion. She was genuinely frightened of him, but there was also sincere concern for Tsuna. She was worried for him after only a shared meal and afternoon. It was a testament to his natural charisma, no matter how oblivious he was to it.

Reborn expected nothing less.

"You're giving me a virtue that I do not possess," he answered just as quietly, in French this time, eyes back on his charge obediently trying on a jacket. "He is merely a job."

She dared to scoff, unconvinced. "He isn't just a bunch of lines on a contract. If he were, he wouldn't have these eyes." She didn't wait for his reaction, carrying on. "His eyes wouldn't glow with warmth, burning through you with a knowledge born from rare insight and soothing you with an acceptance inviting complete trust."

She turned towards him, staring right into his dark and fathomless eyes, so unnerving and knowing. Her voice hardened, refusing to be intimidated into silence.

"His eyes would be dull and dimming with distrust and terror, inspiring disquiet and sympathy in anyone's hearts." Her gaze took on a somber and canny gleam. "You may blind yourself to the truth, but you hold much sway in his thoughts and feelings. Just like he does over yours."

She looked away when she couldn't withstand his abyssal eyes anymore. And yet, she didn't turn away completely, unfinished.

"Just," she took a breath to fortify herself, "don't break him any further. It would take only one last flick, and his fragility would shatter something important – vital, even, in him."

She hurried over to Tsuna and her uncle, eager to leave Reborn's presence. The hitman watched her chuckle at her relative's stubborn attempts at finding something for his charge. He noticed Tsuna glancing between her and him in confusion, picking up her unease instantly. Reborn made no sign, only staring impassively as Tsuna's brows crinkled until he dismissed the matter, focusing on another jacket and trying it on with a long-suffering face.

Five minutes later, this leather jacket was confirmed as good enough. The uncle gave them a pair of saddlebags, worn but still resistant, along with two crash helmets. He also advised Reborn to get a fuel at the next service station, insisting that the tank was clearly not filled, and with its rather greedy consumption, the bike would certainly need it. Exchanging last parting words, with a heartfelt good luck and be careful from her to Tsuna, they thanked the pair and put the helmets on. Aware that they had a schedule to stick to, Reborn started the engine and took off – Tsuna squeaking in startle, instantly pressing himself against the hitman and reflexively wrapping his arms around his waist.

Tsuna would have felt all sorts of awkward and embarrassed if he wasn't so afraid that he would fall off the bike at the next acceleration. There weren't any handles for him to hold onto either, so latching on Reborn was quite the only option left to him. However, Tsuna was determined not to be the worst passenger ever. He kept his legs snuggly closed while trying his best to follow Reborn's movements as to not hinder them to the point that he was tilting his head at each corner, based on the inclination of the bike. While he had next to zero experience in being a passenger – much less on bikes more powerful than the 250cc Suzuki he had (coercively) ridden when helping Kusakabe out – he knew how challenging and strenuous it was to control a bike when your passenger was everything but subdued and was constantly reminding you that you were not alone on this damn death trap. Figuring that the more powerful the engine was, the worse it was to tame it, Tsuna was certainly not going to do anything to interfere with the one person holding their lives in his hands.

Contrary to a car ride, there really wasn't the possibility to talk. Even without the noise of the motor, they were both wearing helmets. It left Tsuna alone with his thoughts, wondering what Reborn's brief exchange with their host's niece had been about. To say that she had been edgy was a severe understatement. Had she suspected the truth, after all? If that were the case, did it matter though? They were already leaving, and it was rather dubious that whoever was tracking them would find this family to get information. The meeting had been fortuitous, striking up a conversation about cars, leading to getting invited for lunch and concluding a rather odd deal.

Speaking of oddities, Tsuna had noticed a few of Reborn's quirks. Not to say that he had suddenly turned into an expert absconder, but there were a few details that jarred with Tsuna's common sense. First off, Reborn was not the least worried over his purchases with his credit cards, though he did carry cash on him. Now, Tsuna knew that they didn't have governments after them, but they could have a bounty hunter with a side-kick knowing how to use computers, right? Second, the fedoras. Up until this point, Reborn had managed to keep a classy style with a constant: the hats. Hats that he always left behind – usually in the hotels they had stopped by – without apparently caring that someone found them. When put as so, Tsuna realized that he sounded quite paranoid. He was worried over hats for mercy's sake. They weren't even using their true names, and no one had yet to ask for their papers – except at the boundaries. He was stressing over trifles.

The vibrations of the bike worsened as Reborn sped up, waving his way through a succession of cars. Snapped out of his thoughts, Tsuna squinted at the line they were overtaking, counting no less than ten of them once they successfully passed after waiting for the SUV on the other lane to drive away. All carrying at least three passengers, it was obvious they all knew each other, following the lead to a party – a birthday if the absence of a wedding dress meant anything. He wondered when Reborn's was, then whether his own would be spent with the hitman only or back with his mother. He had the distinct impression that the former was the most likely. It felt odd, almost lonely, to know that he wouldn't spend it with Nana. Not being attacked on this day sounded like a good gift to get, though.

Reborn stopped the bike at the first service station they found, near an out-of-town mall. Kickstand on place, they both rode down, putting off their helmets. It was as Tsuna stretched his arms that he noticed handles for the passenger – handles that he would have held onto. He stared blankly at them for a long minute, wondering how he could have missed them. Reborn noticed his expression, following his gaze. Lips stretched in a smirk, his eyes gleamed wickedly.

"Follow my lead, piccolino, or stay back," Reborn offered, voice ambiguous. "Your pick."

Tsuna scowled at him in answer, searching for a sharp retort. He paused at the lurking look in Reborn's eyes, neither leery or suggestive, but dangerous and somehow defensive. He hesitated, puzzling it over. What could have brought it? Was the hitman concerned over something? He was already mildly surprised that he was able to spot it, but his lack of comprehension over its origins was frustrating.

"I'm not going anywhere," Tsuna finally settled for, observing the other closely – and blatantly, because trying to be stealthy with Reborn was both nearly impossible and an insult. "Not only will I not survive two days on my own, but I know that I'll miss your biting sarcasms and your infuriating nature." He purposefully waited a beat, and tackled on, "or maybe not. Still, I'd rather not found out."

"Careful, that sounded almost like a confession," Reborn promptly answered, behaving as if he had expected this reply all along – were it not for the almost unnoticeable moment of silence.

Tsuna scoffed at him and turned away, lips twitching. "Dream on," he added.

The cuff on the back of his head wasn't as harsh as it could have been, and he openly laughed, pleased to know that he had chased away whatever shadow had been on Reborn's mind.

After a night at a bed and breakfast and an hour-ride, they arrived in Roscoff on the thirty-first. It was ten in the morning, drizzle slowly soaking them when the bike stopped on the sidewalk, parked in front of a cemetery. Reborn pulled off his helmet, ruffling his black hair back to their messy state. He glanced at Tsuna – who had made no movement – and handed him his protection.

"I'll be quick," Reborn reminded him, mildly annoyed.

"I know," Tsuna responded, fiddling with the hitman's helmet. "And I don't doubt your skills, you would have noticed first if anything was amiss, of course, I trust you."

"I didn't peg you as superstitious." Reborn commented, instead of reacting to the admission.

"I'm not!" He defended himself, frowning at the other – unseen. "It's just. It's creepy. I mean, why a graveyard? Wouldn't a café be better? Or a park or the beach, if the guy wanted so much to be outside."

"Stop whining." Reborn smacked his helmet in reprimand. "It's a matter of minutes. Here, I'll let you the keys. If you sense anything wrong, get away." He narrowed his eyes when Tsuna hesitated. "You know I will find you."

"You sound like a psychopath," Tsuna muttered to hide that he felt comforted by the rather ominous promise, snatching the keys reluctantly.

His comment earned him a sharp slap on his arm, and he knew without looking that his skin was red beneath his leather jacket. He massaged it sullenly, sliding forward on the seat with one arm, helmet on the crook of his elbow. He flicked his eyes at the wall of stones encircling the cemetery, knowing of the graves beyond. The greyish sky above them only added to the gloom atmosphere, several cries of herring gulls piercing the air.

"Keep an eye out," Reborn's voice instantly drawn his attention back to him. "I know that you are a trouble magnet, but I would appreciate finding the bike and you in one piece when I get back."

"I'll do my best," Tsuna sarcastically replied, making a face at him – aware that the hitman would know despite the helmet.

Reborn shook his head, almost fond but mostly exasperated. He stepped away from the bike but paused at the sound of metal scraping little stones. Two heads immediately turned to spot the cemetery's visitor door, spotting a grey-haired man closing the gate behind him. His hands bore the tan born from countless years outside, as well as the wrinkles appearing from hardships. His navy blue sailor cap almost flew off at a gust of surprisingly cold wind. Unaffected, the man turned around, vest billowing, and walked towards them nonchalantly.

"Mr. Ventura," he greeted Reborn in French, grey eyes meeting fearlessly dark ones. "As punctual and impudent as ever, I see."

"As blunt as ever, Yann." The hitman smoothly answered accordingly.

"Are you talking about me or yourself, Leon?" Yann instantly deadpanned. "Really, one would think that someone going around with the name of Leon Ventura, would get arrested or executed."

"People aren't as smart, or bold, as you seem to believe."

Yann snorted, stopping in the middle of the road, uncaring. He glanced at Tsuna, raising an eyebrow. "Taking on a side-kick? Or, rather, a henchman? You're still too foolish to take on an apprentice."

"One day, this tongue of yours will get you into troubles you can't escape from."

"I'll be more worried when a skillful kid will try to take my place. As it is, I'm still one of the best out there, and the fastest." Yann reached into his vest inside pockets, pulling out an identity card, a passport and two ferry tickets. "As you very well know, I've complied with your requests – no matter how reckless they are."

"How's Astrid?" Reborn asked as he stepped forward, taking the papers and checking them closely.

"Lonely," Yann didn't take offense to the verification of his work, watching Tsuna instead with disinterested cold eyes. "But she's always been the patient one, as well as the strongest. She'll wait for me, I'm sure."

"It's always the good ones who go first," the hitman murmured and stopped his examination, looking up at the master forger. "Was it her choice?"

"Would you have proposed your skills otherwise?" Yann scoffed, turning his gaze back to him, looking condescending.

"I haven't forgotten your kindness to mamma," Reborn quietly replied, his voice an odd mix of sincerity and coldness, "and I will continue to honor your compassion as long as I live."

"Age is an enemy you can't defeat," Yann finally responded, looking away to gaze at the grey clouds above them. "She was my Sun but even her fire couldn't stop the decay of her body. I could only soothe her pain and lull her into sleep."

Neither men said anything for a few moments, silence settling heavily on them. Reborn glanced at the cemetery and ultimately turned away, walking back to a fidgeting Tsuna. He handed the papers to his charge, motioning for him to keep them close and hidden.

"Listen well, petit." Yann spoke up, his faraway gaze sharpening and locking on Reborn's dark eyes. "I won't convince you to forsake any sense of debt you believe you owe us for you will not heed my words. However, if you wish for it to be fulfilled, then listen." His grey stare burned into him, as he solemnly continued, "you are more than your trade, petit, and nothing is more precious than the light you are veiling, and nothing is more encompassing than the warm glow of a hearth."

"Pass along my good will to Astrid," was Reborn's only answer, stoically watching his old friend walk away from them.

Yann laughed, a rough bark of amusement, and waved an acknowledging hand without looking back. Tsuna stayed silent as the hitman stared at the master forger's back, expression smooth and unreadable once again. He waited for Reborn to face him again, wordlessly handing him back his helmet. He slid back to his place, putting his hands flat on the seat, patient. Reborn narrowed his eyes, staring at Tsuna with a discerning glint. He however didn't say a word, postponing his interrogation. He pretended not to notice when Tsuna tactfully gave him space by grasping the handles as they drove back into the heart of the town, drizzle still cloaking the air and waves crashing gently against rocks and sand alike.

In fact, Tsuna didn't talk at all up until their first steps on the promenade deck – bike lost among cars on a lower level. Their papers were on them, one of their two bags in their cabin, and he had the suspicion that Reborn had managed to smuggle his weapons successfully and with little problems. The air was humid, and the faintest smell of the fuel was almost enough for him to get sick as they stood at the stern. And yet, he leaned against the railing, back to the sea, squinting at the night sky to try and see stars despite both the electrical lights of the boat and the cloudy veil. Beside him, Reborn was staring at the endless sea.

"You know," Tsuna started contemplatively, "Yann-san is right. Going by the name of Leon Ventura is asking for trouble."

"I wasn't aware you understood French so well," Reborn turned his curious gaze to him, voice mild.

"Mom's both a language enthusiast and a cinephile," he explained quietly. "We spent hours, days sometimes, watching whatever movies she managed to find. She prefers seeing them with their original soundtracks." He didn't realize he was smiling as he continued, "she got a knack for languages. She probably can talk to you in Italian with little difficulties."

"You miss her," the hitman stated neutrally.

"Of course I do," Tsuna scoffed. "She's my mom. I ditch classes just to keep her company for an entire day," he emphasized, thinking of Valentine's Day, then he eyed Reborn as he added shrewdly, "you understand that, don't you?"

Reborn gave him a flat look, not fooled. "I do," he nevertheless answered, switching tracks as he refused to elaborate. "How come you don't share her talents?"

"Oh, I inherited another one," Tsuna absently retorted and stopped breathing when he realized what he had said. Before the hitman could ask anything, he hastily added, "cooking, obviously."

"As soon as we got our refuge, we'll quickly see the truth," Reborn didn't seem to have noticed anything weird, and Tsuna released a relieved sigh.

"Sure," he agreed without thinking, glad that Nana had insisted to teach him.

He suddenly realized that the last time he had checked his bonds, it was almost five days ago. Feeling guilty – irrationally, as his soulmate couldn't possibly know – Tsuna slumped against the rail with a frown. He closed his eyes, instantly finding his bonds. While the lack of feelings from his mother's was disquieting, he found comfort in its existence. He had little doubt that it would altogether disappear if something were to happen to her.

"Don't fall asleep," Reborn ordered him sharply, seconds before he could move on his second bond. "We have some training to do."

"What?" Tsuna snapped his eyes open, staring at the hitman incredulously. "We're on a boat. Do you expect me to climb the emergency stairs or something?"

"You shouldn't be giving me ideas," Reborn half-threatened him. "No, we'll take advantage of the swimming-pool upstairs."

"The pool?" He parroted in disbelief. "At ten in the evening?" When the hitman merely turned around, Tsuna fumbled for excuses, "but – we don't even have trunks!"

Reborn paused in his steps, turning around to give him an amused glance. "I rather doubt that the problem's our clothes," he remarked with a twitch of his lips. "What is it?"

"I'm not a very good swimmer," Tsuna admitted, then sensing that it would only encourage the other to throw him into deep waters, he tried to altogether change Reborn's mind. "We haven't eaten yet, aside from some crepes at lunch, and I'm sure you're as hungry as I am. Also, we rarely have the opportunity to catch our breath. Don't you want to unwind a little by, I dunno, taking a drink at the bar? No matter how hard I try, it must be incredibly stressful to take care of everything, notably keeping me alive. And," he added a bit desperately, "when was the last time you could really sleep?"

Reborn looked more amused than annoyed by his attempts. "You do know that it won't stop me from teaching you how to swim, right?" He waited for Tsuna's resigned nod, before continuing, "fine. Lesson postponed. However, training will resume tomorrow."

Tsuna brightened up. "Does that mean that we'll get something to eat?"

"We'll see what we find," Reborn turned around once more and ordered, "stay away from the railing, though. I don't fancy taking a midnight bath in icy waters to save your skin."

"I'm not that clumsy!" Tsuna instantly protested, falling into steps obediently.

"Not anymore, no," the hitman agreed cryptically.

As expected to the late hours, the two restaurants were inactive for the night. The café was still open, though, and they took each a Gourmet menu. They sat on their own at a table near the windows, looking at dark waters and an alit lower deck. The spacious space was calm as most travelers had already eaten, whether on the boat or before coming, and were willing the night away by sleeping or relaxing in one of the bars. Tsuna picked absently on the chicken of his focaccia, his fork abandoned in his green salad.

"Why Perrin?" He suddenly asked.

Reborn arched an eyebrow, cutlery stuck between his lips preventing him from voicing any reply. Tsuna quickly looked away, fixing his stare on the hitman's large coffee. One of his fingers tapped against his pocket, referring to his fake identity card.

"Shinzō Perrin," he recited. "Born on October 14th. In 1984, of course. So, I'm nineteen instead of seventeen."

"Your problem?" Reborn prompted him, sipping his coffee. "The name, the nationality or your age?"

"It's easier to travel when you're of age," Tsuna dismissed the last point. "But French? Anyone would know that I'm Japanese, not only because of my looks, but my accent and inability to speak any French correctly are dead give-away."

"Doesn't matter," Reborn shrugged the concern away. "You don't need to speak to anyone and," he added because he knew that Tsuna was a worrier, "there have been cases like yours, legal ones. As for the name itself, have you seen Le Grand Blond avec une chaussure noire?"

Swallowing his mouthful of lime-flavored Perrier, Tsuna mentally checked over the French movies he had seen. His mind drew a blank.

"It's a comedy." The hitman clarified, noting his confusion. "Released in 1974, with Pierre Richard as – "

"– François Perrin," Tsuna finished, glaring half-heartedly at Reborn. "Very funny, Reborn." He frowned, twirling his fork with a salad leaf. "Wait, we're keeping the story about our first meeting in Venice, right? When did it occur?"

Reborn polished his focaccia off and sipped his coffee calmly, dark eyes flicking outside, then back on him.

"We'll stick to the truth as close as we can," he thoughtfully began, putting his cup back down with a discreet clink. "It is what you did, isn't it?"

Tsuna nodded. "I told her that we met during a visit at the Fenice Opera where I tripped, and you caught me, commenting on my clumsiness in the process," he shrugged as he added, "a bit cliché but it's basically what happened," he reminded the hitman with a pointed look.

"You didn't give any dates or any details that could be used as a temporal reference?" Reborn let the remark slide.

"I don't think so. Wait," he paused, fork hovering mid-air, "I told her that we met first at the hotel, where we were staying at the same time but not together. That we bumped into each other, I apologized or something, and then later, there was the opera incident."

"Difficult to stick closer to the truth," Reborn commented dryly, not surprised. "Let's keep some details, then." He picked up his spoon and pointed it at Tsuna, reminding him of another occurrence, and continued. "It was three years ago, during the winter holidays, when you were on a school trip. We kept bumping into each other and eventually started to chat, especially when we got stuck in the hotel's elevator." He ignored Tsuna's snort, broke a piece of his napoleon, and carried on, "we bonded over gangster movies," that earned him a muffled chuckle, "and a longing for travels."

Tsuna finished his salad and focaccia, lips twitching. "I take it that when I left back to – France, we kept contact, is that it? And that we promised to meet again as soon as possible?" He added, taking hold of his bottle.

"Obviously," Reborn confirmed, voice dead serious. "I expect nothing less from my seven-year-younger crush."

Tsuna choked on his water, the liquid going down the wrong pipe. "Seven?" He rasped in surprise. "You're twenty-four?"

"Twenty-six," the hitman corrected, giving him a condescending look, neatly finishing his dessert. "Check your math."

"Wha – oh, of course," Tsuna put down his bottle, obscurely persuaded that his first exclamation was closer to the truth – twenty-five, then. "Nineteen and seven make twenty-six, right. I still need your birthday date, you know."

"October 13th." Reborn answered instantly, and Tsuna was struck by the sheer coincidence. "We met several times afterwards in the following years, eventually declaring our mutual flame last December, and decided to tour Europe at the start of August, symbolically choosing Venice as our starting point."

"Because we're romantic," Tsuna sarcastically completed, slightly thrown off by Reborn's poker face. He paused, a detail startling him, nevertheless grasping his pistachio and green tea cake. "You do know that I was still a minor when our – our relationship began, right?"

"You come of age at eighteen in France," Reborn reminded him, and Tsuna felt a bit stupid as he had pointed it out mere moments ago. "Besides, I don't care about this type of details."

"Oh." Tsuna didn't know what to say, wondering if the hitman realized the implications of his statement. Deciding that he was interpreting where he shouldn't, he obliviously mused, "I've always found it a bit odd that a nineteen-year-old couldn't be with a twenty-one-year-old. Same with most of the age gap. If the couple's okay with it, then that's that. It's nobody's business."

He trailed off at Reborn's intense scrutiny, abruptly wondering if he had said something wrong. He bit into his cake, feeling self-conscious, fighting the urge to break eye-contact and to fidget. The following silence reached a new level of awkwardness for Tsuna, trapped under Reborn's appraising eyes.

"Finish your cake," the hitman finally murmured, abruptly standing up to gather their waste, and walked away to dispose of it. "And follow me."

Tsuna complied with the demand swiftly, stumbling to his feet while hurriedly devouring the sweet. Licking his lips to catch remaining crumbs, he snatched his bottle and quickly met Reborn in front of the lift. Mood somehow electric, he kept his mouth shut. Being on the seventh deck, they went down to the fifth deck and walked through the different corridors – Reborn mostly ignoring everyone they met, and Tsuna smiling uncomfortably at them.

Unlocking the door of their cabin, Reborn motioned for Tsuna to go in first.

"The bathroom's at your left." The hitman informed him, waving at a door. "Don't forget to shut the curtains in front of the porthole when you'll go to sleep."

"Wait," Tsuna whirled around, watching Reborn step back in the corridor, hand on the handle. "You're going somewhere?"

"I'm following your advice," Reborn responded, his voice sounding a bit off and puzzling Tsuna. "Lock you up as soon as the door's shut. If anyone succeeds in coming in, do as you've been taught."

"What about you?" Tsuna insisted, approaching the other with the beginning of a frown. "Where will you sleep?"

"I'll come back."

Reborn shut the door without another word, leaving Tsuna standing alone, staring at the handle. He then realized that said key was already in the keyhole, inconspicuously glinting softly under the artificial light. He looked blankly at it for a few seconds.

"And how, you genius, if the door's locked?" He muttered under his breath, scowling at the piece of metal.

Evidently, Tsuna found himself staring unseeingly at the ceiling two hours later, body exhausted but mind restless. He narrowed his eyes at the darkness, sighed and crossed his arms in a sulk. He kicked his blanket away, immediately regretting it when he shivered. The chill in the air was a cheerful reminder that sleeping only with boxers was not the smartest idea when temperatures started to drop. It wasn't as if Reborn had brought pajamas along. They had stopped at some point to get a change – in one of the bike's bag, now at the bottom of the bunks – but it was day clothes, to put on once in Cork. Sitting up, he crossed his legs and muffled a yawn. He was tempted to look at his watch, miraculous survivor of the past weeks, to check the hour but he wasn't keen on calculating the time difference. He was sure it was past midnight anyway.

He had already checked his bonds, still mute for his mother's. His soulmate was currently drowning into a storm of emotions Tsuna had honestly thought the other unable to feel. He had recognized a distant sort of sadness as well as the continuous thrumming determination – meaning that whatever job they had taken on, it clearly wasn't completed – but there were flickers of feelings that Tsuna knew were too complex to be defined precisely. Whatever was happening was private, exceedingly so, and he had promptly shut off the connection, letting it hum unintelligibly at the back of his mind. Tsuna was already guiltily aware that he was somehow constantly invading his soulmate's metaphorical space with the mere existence of the bond – that he had next to no control over – so he made a point to only brush at the surface and avoid delving deeper.

"And now I'm justifying myself in my own head," Tsuna murmured, looking around, half-heartedly trying to find something to do or to lull him into sleep.

He found nothing, obviously. Resigning himself to spend a sleepless night – and to regret it come morning because Reborn was merciless – he climbed down the bunk. He fumbled in the dark, looking for his worn jeans, shirt and vest. He stubbed his toe once or twice on the bunk leg as he put his clothes on, muttering quiet curses. Once dressed, he padded carefully towards the cabin door and let his hand hovering in front of it. Reborn had told him to stay inside for his own safety, Tsuna assumed, so him wandering around wasn't what the hitman had in mind. Then again, leaving him alone wasn't exactly the safest decision to take. Reborn was quite certain that none of their trackers were on the ship with them.

His fingers patted around – as Tsuna had not bothered turning on the light – until they closed around the key and unlocked the door. Feeling oddly adventurous, he pocked his head out first then ventured in the corridor. He closed the door behind him, taking care of keeping the key in his pocket, and walked away, musing over where he should be going. His feet took him towards the elevators, up to the eighth deck. He stepped out of his lift into another corridor, though classier. The cabins there were more expensive, no doubt. He nevertheless continued on his way, hopping into another elevator when he reached the other end.

Tsuna went to the ninth deck then. To his amusement, he caught a glimpse of the pool and its bar where a rather large group of friends was lounging, chatting the night away. Instead of disturbing them, he went back on his tracks. The sight made him immensely glad that he had changed Reborn's mind. It would have been endlessly embarrassing otherwise. He abruptly wondered where the hitman was, then if he should worry about it and then decided that Reborn had earned a night for himself. Nodding to himself, he purposefully walked away from any signs leading to bars.

Finding a map – for emergency matters, but a map nonetheless – Tsuna examined it closely. Humming slightly under his breath, he noticed that there were several platforms for tourists to take a walk under the salty winds. Aside from the promenade deck, there were at least two other places. With a shrug, he took the elevator once again, going to the upper deck. He turned his back to the pool and went outside. The strength of the wind took him aback, as well as the rain, and he slipped as he made his way towards the rails. A hand grasped his elbow in a firm grip, holding him up. Tsuna started, lifting his head up to meet striking blue eyes – a shade a bit too clear, seemingly piercing through him. He absently thought that anyone with a heavy conscience would inevitably start to confess everything.

"T- thank you," he stammered in English, still trying to regain his footing – physically and mentally.

The figure – a woman, her face etched with deeper lines that even Yann had – nodded back at him, acknowledging. Her gaze swept him up and down with the sharpness of a hawk. Her mouth set into a grim line, apparently displeased by what she was seeing. She was intimidating, indeed, but Tsuna curiously didn't feel threatened, merely uncomfortable.

"You'll catch your death, venturing outside like that," she mildly scolded him, her accent quite pronounced and clearly not French. "Such a rawny lad would get plucked from the ground by a breeze."

"Oh, huh, sorry?" Tsuna offered, a bit overwhelmed.

She scoffed, though not meanly, and he realized that his elbow was still in her strong grip. He was debating if pulling away would be rude when she gave him another searching look and took the decision from him by dragging him towards the nearest shelter – inside where the lifts were. Tsuna let her pull him away from the rain. He, however, started to protest when she seemed intent on bringing him further inside, namely among the people enjoying a drink at the pool bar.

"Now, boyo, you need to get dry or you'll be all shook later." She carried on with a frown when he insisted that he was fine. "Snotty and sniffing with a bad chill. Would put quite the damper on your plans."

She was right, but it didn't mean that Tsuna was okay with being manhandled and thrust among unfamiliar faces, no matter how charming, funny or kind they were.

"I'm fine, really," he insisted, subtly testing her grip, "I can go back to my cabin to get towels and clothes."

"Don't be an eejit," she chided him. "You'll catch ill before getting your gear."

Tsuna blinked at the unfamiliar word and expressions, frowning in confusion, as he hazarded a guess over their meanings. He opened his mouth to protest some more, especially as his few shivers dissipated completely as they walked further into the warmth of the large room.

"No, really, I'll be fine," he tried as he noticed that they were quickly approaching the bar part of the room, where seven people were all sitting around tables that had been brought together holding liquors and glasses in front of everyone. "Thank you for the concern but really – "

"Who's that, Ma?" A male voice cut him off, noticing them first and silencing a few conversations.

"A gasur playing the Jammy client," she shot back at a young man with freckles who cackled on his seat. "Watch him while I get him towels and warm drinks."

"Grand," he agreed without fuss. "Frowin, get us a chair for the lad."

Apparently used to evaders, Ma didn't release him until he was seated beside the man who had spoken. With nearly everyone's attention on him, Tsuna resigned himself to enduring spending some time with complete strangers fussing over him, drawing him into conversation and teasing him. He would later be both amused and disconcerted when he realized that his assumption was spot on. Ten minutes later, wrapped in several blankets brought by the barman (who seemed quite entertained by the situation) and cradling a mug of delicious hot chocolate, Tsuna was still trying to remember the attendees' names and their relationship with each other. His eyes swept over his patient audience one last time, observing them carefully.

The young man beside him, face freckled, red hair and piercing blue eyes, was grinning, looking ready to either cheer or whoop at his next words. He was the one who had talked, calling the rather frightening woman, 'Ma'.

"So," Tsuna began slowly, "the one sitting at my left is Aodh."

Aodh indeed whooped then hooted with laughter at the unusual pronunciation of his name, apparently not minding one bit. "Aye! Then, who is it, that is seating beside me?"

"Frowin," Tsuna was beginning with the easiest ones, as the dark-skinned man with gentle brown eyes was the one who had given him a chair. "He is your brother-in-law, as he had married your sister, Morna – who is on his left. And she is the – "he hesitated a split-second, trying to be tactful, "– eldest sibling."

"Indeed," Frowin confirmed with an encouraging smile, his English almost perfect if for his slight French accent. "Married for ten years, hence the little family travel."

"Oh, huh, congratulations," Tsuna hazarded, relaxing when the couple thanked him.

Their friend, beside them, downed his drink. Black hair turning prematurely white and features marked by hardships, he looked older than he truly was. His grey eyes had not left Tsuna ever since his first appearance, gaze penetrating and alert, but amiable. Despite enjoying the night away with trusted companions, he held himself rather stiffly, the soberest of them.

"Alright, then." He carried on in a calm voice when silence fell briefly, "who am I?"

A wary watcher, a protector. "Quinn," Tsuna replied instead, inwardly nodding at his first thought as the man clearly looked and held himself as so. "Morna's best friend," he added with a little grin as he glanced then at Frowin, imagining the moment of intimidation between the two men when the French's feelings for her became quite obvious.

Beside Ma – seated at Tsuna's immediate right – a young woman with fiery red hair, fainter freckles and the same striking blue eyes gave a snort, putting down her cocktail. She grinned then.

"Poor Frowin had had quite the surprise, thinking himself safe after surviving our brothers' trials, only to find that Quinn was still wanting to make his point very clear!"

"And that's precisely why we went easy on him, Sloane!" Aodh, more than a bit tipsy, gleefully clarified. "We knew that Queenie would be there to scare the gick out of him!"

Tsuna raised his eyebrows at the nickname and quietly snickered when Quinn threw his napkin at Aodh's head, smacking his forehead with deadly accuracy.

"Language," Ma scolded him even as her youngest son squawked at Quinn, throwing the cloth back at him – and forcing the brown-haired man sitting beside the soldier to duck.

"Plastered as he is, Ma, I don't think he cares very much," Sloane commented.

"He's gone for the splitting headache, apparently," Galen, the brown-haired man, remarked dryly. "My, Nora's going to be delighted when he'll spend the drive moaning in the back."

If Tsuna recalled correctly, Nora was his sister, and both were primarily Sloane's and Aodh's friends, all four still in their twenties. As for the three other siblings, they were missing another brother, the second eldest, Conall, who had already turned in for the night – along with Da and Nora – as they were the appointed drivers. Aodh shot back something that clearly didn't sound English at the pair, and the trio fell into an argument completely incomprehensible for Tsuna, despite Galen answering in English into the mix.

"Anyway," Morna turned to him without batting an eyelash, expertly ignoring her siblings. "Why were you being all lonely and dejected under the rain, cub?"

Tsuna took a sip of his cooling chocolate, hiding his grimace behind his mug. He had expected the question to come up at some point. It didn't mean that he really knew what to say. He rather doubted that he could keep up the charade well on his own.

"I couldn't sleep," he looked away, unconsciously burying himself under the blankets despite not being cold at all. "I just, well, thought to look around. And get some air. I didn't know it was raining."

"That doesn't answer the question," Ma sternly pointed out, piercing eyes narrowing on him with unconcealed concern.

"It's never a good idea to wander around alone," Quinn thrown in quietly, ever straight-faced despite the commotion beside him.

Tsuna shrugged uncomfortably, starkly reminded of Reborn's instructions, and he cringed, paling, as he imagined the hitman's reaction to his disappearance. Of course, his reaction was noticed by everyone.

"You're not travelling on your own, are you?" Frowin ventured, cocking his head.

"No," Tsuna admitted and burrowed deeper under the linen, "and he's not going to be happy. My – my boyfriend," he clarified at their questioning look, squirming and coloring under their gazes.

"Boyfriend?" Aodh parroted, catching the word and abandoning the argument. "Wait, how old are you?"

"He's going to be worried, if he isn't already," Morna spoke over her younger brother shamelessly.

"More like panicking," Galen corrected, seamlessly inserting himself into the discussion as if he had always participated. "He'll think that someone kidnapped his adorable other half." He paused, contemplative. "Anybody would."

Sloane eyed him speculatively, then blatantly took his still filled glass away. "Starting now, you're off the drink."

"Well, he wouldn't be completely wrong," Quinn mused. "Ma did drag him there."

Frowin finished his glass of fuzzy water, pulling the chair back to stand up. Aodh followed suit. To his credit, he did not wobble. He did almost trip over his chair's leg but regained his balance quickly, grinning a bit too genially at his misstep.

"There, we'll go find your fella!" He announced proudly, throwing an arm around his brother-in-law's shoulders.

It was quite comical as Frowin was almost two heads taller than him. Aodh was forced to stand on his tiptoes to reach the other man, and Tsuna would have laughed if he wasn't shocked by his words.

"Wait, what?" He spluttered, putting the mug quickly on the table. "You want to bring R – Leon back here?"

"Yeah!" Aodh cheerfully confirmed, smile wilting into a confused frown when Tsuna looked a mix of dreading and horrified. "You don't want to see him?"

"It's – well, no – it's just," Tsuna stammered, trying to find how to say how a bad idea it was to disturb Reborn in any way. "He wouldn't want to come, so you really shouldn't worry about it."

If he thought his words would discourage the two men – and any of the others – he was quite disappointed. If anything, they looked even more resolute.

"Ah," Morna nodded in understanding, eyes softening with compassion. "Rows are always terrible things, but they're not insurmountable obstacles."

Ma patted his hand comfortingly, signaling to the barman for another hot chocolate. "Dreadful things," she agreed. "Best to fix them quickly," she added with a meaningful look at her son-in-law.

"Right," Frowin subtly nodded at her. "Leon, was it? How does he look like?"

"Description or no," Sloane interjected because she sensed Tsuna's hesitation instantly, "they're still going. They'll look at each cranny and nook, shouting very loudly his name until the whole ship's awake and up about."

Surprisingly, Tsuna took a few seconds to truly consider the threat. Beyond his own wish to evade the hitman's wrath for a few hours longer, he genuinely wanted to spare the family from meeting a Reborn in a foul mood. However, he gave in, giving a detailed description. Making a fuss and alerting countless people that the wanted Vongola Heir was under the protection of mostly untrained outsiders would make his hired protector seethe in terrifying fury. The two men left, going for the elevators and already planning to visit the bars as they went down.

Instead of letting him wait in trepidation, the five others attempted to distract him. They spoke of the party they had held at another friend's farm, of the delight it had been to see each other again, of the heartfelt congratulations for a couple who were about to raise their first child in seven months, of how Frowin had been moved to see his adopted parents after several years spent apart and a multitude of other details of their summer. They, simply put, drowned his mind by sharing their memories. Between Morna's warm voice, Sloane's quips and Galen's quiet clarifications when slangs prevented him from understanding, Tsuna soon found his worry distracted and soothed.

A quarter of an hour had come and passed when Tsuna noticed the first cue of the men coming back from their search. It was Quinn. Quinn with his previous relaxed slump, strengthened up in a blink. His entire posture changed from rest to wariness, eyes staring straight past Tsuna's shoulder, expression blanking almost completely – hints of suspicion flicking in his gaze. Tsuna wanted to groan. Did it mean that Reborn wasn't even bothering to hide at least a little bit?

"Shinzō!" Aodh exclaimed from behind him, interrupting Sloane's retelling of an embarrassing childhood story involving him, a turkey and a pond.

The young man glared at his sister even as he hurried over, pointing an accusing finger at her. Tsuna very pointedly did not turn around.

"We promised not to speak about it again!"

"Conall did," she rectified, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I did not such thing."

Aodh dramatically fell on his chair, deciding to ignore her altogether as a way to get back at her – which, only made her laugh – and crowed triumphantly at Tsuna. Frowin walked past them smoothly, an odd expression on his face, and wrapped an arm protectively around Morna's shoulders. Tsuna didn't need to look or turn around, keenly feeling Reborn's icy presence stopping behind his chair. The lack of contact was not reassuring.

Every eye was on them.

"You know, Shinzō," Aodh broke through the silence first, voice mockingly reproachful. "You should have warned us that your fella is the scary-type. Nay," he corrected himself, "the terrifying-type. I genuinely thought he was gonna bash our heads on the counter when we told Leon that you were with us."

Tsuna clearly saw Quinn grew as tense as a bow string. Ma's eyebrows had reached her whitening hair in wordless shock, eyes instantly turning to appraise the newcomer.

"I apologize," Reborn's smoothly intervened, his hands absently caressing Tsuna's cheeks until they cupped his chin, steadily tightening his hold. "I tend to be overprotective when I'm worried about Shinzō – especially when I don't know where he is."

Tsuna let his head be thrown back, bracing himself for whatever Reborn had in mind for him. His eyes met blank abysses, and he tried very hard not to panic. He had little doubt that the hitman was rather furious with him – whether it was because he had failed to stay in the cabin, because he had been invited to stay for a bit with strangers or because Reborn could not, indeed, take a moment to merely relax.

He swallowed when one of Reborn's hands released his chin, brushing his hair away from his forehead to maintain eye-contact. He wished he could look away, but the hold was firm, warning him from attempting to pull away.

"I was worried, truly, when I did not find you in the cabin," the hitman continued in a lower – but perfectly audible – voice, "nor could I spot any notes from you telling me where you were. I was in the middle of interrogating the staff when your new friends found me."

He was absurdly relieved when he realized that Reborn hadn't been with a lady friend. It would have been terrible for their cover story otherwise.

"Sorry," he winced as he apologized more genuinely than the hitman did. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"Don't do that again," Reborn ordered him, pinching his nose.

Tsuna squirmed and was released a few seconds later. He turned his head back towards the others, clutching his second empty mug to his chest when he realized that no one had missed anything. Frowin and Quinn had the oddest expressions on their faces, watching them with something akin to bewilderment.

"Well," Galen drawled finally, "one can hardly blame you, I would imagine."

"Yeah," Aodh jerked his chin in a nod, his cheer somehow muted as he muffled a yawn. "Concern can make anyone go bonkers. S'okay."

"Where are you going, by the way?" Quinn abruptly asked, ignoring Sloane leaning forward and across the table to snatch her brother's drink. "Shinzō's a great listener but quite the private lad, it seems."

Tsuna forced his shoulders to relax. Appearing tense and stressed would only feed the man's suspicions. He put his mug back down on the table, among the various glasses. Reborn leaned against the chair, folding one of his arms on its back and letting his other hand idly play with the brown locks in front of him. The tugs were sharper than they should be, and Tsuna stopped himself from reacting, aware that the hitman was displeased by the situation. Reborn hummed at Quinn, casual and contemplative.

"That might be so but Shinzō has quite the knack to bond with people, making friends left and right easily," his voice was even, carefully void of any sarcasm. "It doesn't come to any surprise that we're on our way to meet one of them, does it?"

"No, very not surprising," Quinn murmured in calculating agreement.

"That's why we would be absolutely delighted to continue traveling together," Ma swiftly carried on, staring at the duo with unnerving attention, "at least, until we must part ways."

"Of course," Tsuna beamed at her, searching her expression and completely ignoring Reborn's sharp pinch of his neck. "I've always believed that traveling alone was remarkable but with friends, it is funnier. Though," he blinked and looked away, hesitant, "it might be a bit difficult to find lodgings as it is easier to find for two people than for an entire," what was the word Ma used, "clique."

He gazed back at Ma with expectant eyes, a fixed smile on his lips, but he was paying very little attention to her. He was completely focused on Reborn, trying to gauge his mood over the proposition. Calloused fingers stilled in their absent petting, as the hitman caught on the underlying message and contemplated over the pros and the cons.

"Why not," Reborn mused quietly. "Now, it is merely a matter of knowing if our paths match."

"We're returning home, near Carlow," Ma told them, straightening on her chair, already starting to plan the journey with the addition of two people.

"It is beyond where our friend is," Reborn informed her, "but certainly where we are heading."

"And where is that, exactly?" Quinn pressed for the location, and Tsuna resigned himself for the inevitable tension between the two men.

"Kilkenny," the hitman answered without marking any hesitation and speaking the truth, though Tsuna had little doubt that Reborn minded the interrogation.

"It is, indeed, on our way," Quinn muttered, eyes narrowing at Reborn.

"Then, does that mean that we will not part ways as soon as we land?" Tsuna forcefully asked, injecting as much a hopeful tone to his voice as he could, along with an innocent wide-eyed look, staring straight at the suspicious man.

Quinn made the mistake to meet his eyes. He faltered, doubts clouding his good instincts.

"I'm impatient to meet everyone else," Tsuna continued, beaming mercilessly at him – and his melting companions. "You've spoken so much good and funny tales about them, I would hate to not be able to meet them."

Quinn resisted valiantly for a few more seconds until Tsuna seemed to deflate and to droop, looking quite small in his blankets. Morna and Sloane had already begun to exclaim that, of course, he was welcome among them, and his boyfriend too. Ma was positively glaring at their friend, wordlessly commanding him to cease resistance, clearly absurd. Aodh was looking at Tsuna with the look of someone who had been struck by a revelation. From what Tsuna could tell, it wasn't born from mistrust but rather something akin to admiration.

"I'm sure that they will be happy to meet you," Quinn gave up, sensing that Frowin's silence was born from sympathy rather than any support to his suspicions. "If Ma sees no inconvenience, then none should be found."

Tsuna cheered along with the three siblings, smug when he sensed Reborn's mirth at his antics. The relief that followed was apparently the last straw as he couldn't hide the jaw-breaking yawn that escaped him. He sagged involuntarily into the chair, lulled into drowsiness by the warmth and the companionable silence. He didn't notice that Reborn had moved away from his initial place, exhausted as he was, to take place beside him, standing and speaking. The words went above his head, though he guessed that they pertained to the details necessary to find everyone once again later, to disembark together. Tsuna was close to be sleeping with his eyes open when Reborn scooped him up, blankets and all, into his arms. The movement surprised a squeak out of his lips, and he looked wildly at the newly-made friends – amused and unhelpful. Any protest was silenced by the hitman's look, and he meekly wished a good night at the others.

It was as Reborn entered the elevator, without anyone to hear and see them, that he released Tsuna.

"Do you remember the rules I gave you in Venice?"

Tsuna righted himself from the stumble the blankets provoked, only to tense warily.

"Yes," he answered slowly.

"And yet, you've spent the past weeks breaking them in some way or another," Reborn stated plainly, sounding neither angry or perplexed. "Tell me, is it that you have no natural inclination to respect rules or do you enjoy bringing trouble and endangering yourself?"

There was no good answer, but Tsuna replied anyway as evenly as he could, "neither. It's just – most of the things that happen I can't control of them, and as for the rest – I can't not do something if I can help."

"You don't think," Reborn deduced, and there was no mistaking the exasperation in his voice. "Or, at least, you don't think far enough."

"I'm not impulsive," Tsuna protested, swaying on his feet as he frowned up at the hitman. "I don't like regretting not doing things. I have quite enough of that," he muttered darkly.

"Give me your word," Reborn ignored his mumblings, not keen on digging up painful past for the moment, "that you will not keep me in the dark over your location, your health, your communication with outsiders or any information that might assist or hinder my efforts to keep you alive."

Tsuna blinked. "I – okay, I guess that I can promise you that but – you're not asking me to obey your orders?"

"No," Reborn scoffed at him as if he was talking nonsense. "Until now, you've heeded my commands and advices, but only because they were not conflicting with your thoughts, emotions and other sensibilities. You're relying on my experience to take decisions, but you would rather follow your own lead otherwise."

"I don't understand," Tsuna admitted, bewildered by the hitman's reasoning. "I'm independent and stubborn, according to you. How is that supposed to be a good thing? Isn't it making your job more complicated?"

"It makes you less likely to be easily manipulated by hostile sources using intimidation, coercion and fear," Reborn shrugged, looking decidedly unconcerned, and purposefully avoiding mentioning more successful means. "And no, it doesn't make anything more difficult. Though," his eyes sharpened dangerously, as it was not the first time they were speaking of it, "if there were to be an instance where I order you to abandon me to save your skin, I expect you to comply immediately. I do not take failures kindly."

"And what would happen to you, then?" Tsuna narrowed his eyes. "You'd ask me to – what, leave you to your death?"

"Hardly," Reborn nudged him to move as the elevator had already halted, opening its door with a metallic sound. "If anything, it is to spare your soul and to give me every advantage and opportunity I might need." He lowered his voice, "do not forget what I am."

"Yes, a human!" Tsuna hissed, tongue loosened by exhaustion. "No matter how powerful you are, Reborn, you're still mortal. And if you think that I am skilled enough to survive on my own against legions of trained assassins, then you're severely mistaken. Leaving me alone would be a sure way to get me killed."

Reborn clenched his jaw, infuriated. "For your own sake," he spoke, face as dark as his voice, "if such a case where my death is assured were to happen, pray that I deem you clever enough to survive by yourself, for I will sooner shoot you through the head than let any of them get to you."

Tsuna paled, eyes going wide as he stared at his supposedly protector.

"It would be kindness, truly, from me," Reborn carried on mercilessly, unflinchingly leading them back to their cabin. "Your enemies would not be so gracious."

After such words, to say that Tsuna slept poorly would be an understatement. Not only did he crawl into bed at an ungodly hour, but when he managed to somehow sleep, it was only to be plagued by odd dreams bearing a startling likeliness to nightmares that woke him up frequently. When Reborn literally dragged him out of bed, he stumbled his way to the bathroom with the grace of a drunk duck, tripping when the hitman threw him his forgotten change of clothes at the back of his head. He pointedly did not look at his reflection, knowing that he had the same complexion as a corpse. It was made worse by the fact that Reborn managed to look fresh and well-rested with less than five hours of sleep.

"Fancy taking a breakfast?" Reborn asked him as soon as he was out of the bathroom – rhetorically as the hitman was already leaving the cabin.

Tsuna didn't know if he was hungry or nauseous, but as it was likely that they wouldn't eat until they reached Kilkenny, so he convinced himself that he was aching for food, and not queasy.

"As long as there aren't any sausages, bacon or eggs," he muttered, following.

Reborn paused, glancing thoughtfully at him. Considering that it was past eight, the corridor was not deserted, and some passengers had to circle around them to pass.

"What?" Tsuna eyed him warily, trying his best to ignore the disgruntled and disapproving glances they were receiving.

At least, no one truly knew Japanese.

"You do realize that we'll have to notch our act up, with your little ploy."

"Oh," he blinked, admitting that he had not given it any thought further than the potential concealment the opportunity provided.

His startled and mildly panicked look at his partner-in-crime was answer enough. Reborn didn't look surprised, merely amused. Then, his expression turned considering.

"I am quite curious," Reborn started, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips.

"About?" Tsuna stiffened, growing nervous as he spotted a foreboding gleam in his eyes.

"You did not cringe or protest when it was instantly assumed that we were an item," Reborn took a step forward and Tsuna stepped back.

"I'm not a prejudiced fool," he retorted, wondering where the hitman was going with this. "That is, it is logical that we have to concoct a believable tale to hide the truth. Friends or lovers, what difference?"

"The difference, piccolino," the nickname was purred out as Reborn resumed his approach, eyes never leaving Tsuna's, "is that to credibly pass as a lover, to have experience beforehand is quite required."

Refusing to be intimidated but unable to stop himself from backing away, he scoffed, tackling the derision route. "What, you think that we're not on the same wavelength?" He mockingly batted his eyelashes. "That we don't have good chemistry?"

Reborn was not to be distracted, though a corner of his lips did twitch in amusement. "As your boyfriend, shouldn't I know about any exes?"

"Shouldn't that be my line?" Tsuna shot back, taking a step back once again and barely aware of the curious glances sent their way. "Or is the list so ridiculously long that we'll still be there long after the ship goes back to France?"

"Why," Reborn raised both eyebrows, "I am flattered that you think so highly of me."

Tsuna's brains finally caught up with his mouth, and he viciously pushed down the incoming blush. "Well, I'm not blind," he replied bluntly and wondered if he shouldn't shut up before mortification swallowed him whole. "So?" He prompted to his own consternation, "is there anyone I should be worried about?"

"Straight-forward, aren't you?" Reborn distinctly looked amused, though he dismissed the matter with a, "as if I would let any of them get anywhere near you. Some, if still alive, are assassins, after all."

That was very worrying, indeed, Tsuna thought with distant hysteria but somehow not really surprised. His back bumped against a wall, and he realized that he had slowly let himself be trapped.

"Well?"

"No one as terrifying as any of yours," Tsuna muttered, eyes flicking away before settling back on the hitman's. "Only one, lasted six months until we understood that we really didn't see the other like that, so we broke it off without resentment. She's still my friend, and I couldn't be any happier for it."

"As I thought," Reborn hummed, pleased to hear that he had been right.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Tsuna crossed his arms defensively on his chest, acutely aware that the hitman was right in front of him, inches away from invading his personal space.

Somehow, Reborn seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. "In this case," his voice dropped lower as he breached the invisible line, "it might as well be."

He instantly proved it by leaning over Tsuna, who automatically pressed himself against the wall as he caught the movement of a forearm resting near his head. Reborn, smirking wickedly, nudged closer and stilled him in place with a hand on his waist when Tsuna started to pull away, flustered.

"See?" Reborn murmured silkily as he ducked slightly his head to speak in Tsuna's ear.

"No, I don't." Tsuna shot back in a mutinous whisper, purposefully ignoring how red and hot his cheeks felt. "It's not by performing a kabe-don that you will make your point any clearer, either."

Reborn's chuckle caressed his ear, and Tsuna shivered before he could stop himself. He scowled at the hitman, not even noticing the looks they got from passersby.

"Besides, we only got together in December, right?" Tsuna carried on, finding that speaking was a good try as any to get distracted. "Who's to say that I'm not simply shy and insecure? Or that I don't like PDA?"

Reborn pulled away far enough to meet his eyes without any awkward strain from either of them, but did not release him. His teasing had vanished to be replaced with gravity.

"It doesn't matter," he stated bluntly, swiftly carrying on before Tsuna could answer, offended. "I have no doubt that you would be shy, reserved and hesitant in a new relationship, but as we aren't involved in any romantic relationship in truth, you need to treat this pretending as theater – the most important play you will ever execute. Your life does depend on your performance," he emphasized. "Which means that you cannot flinch away from me or perceptibly stiffen at my touch."

"I know that," Tsuna frowned.

"Oh, really?" Reborn scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "You're so tense I'm surprised your back has yet to snap in half."

"It isn't as easy as you make it sound," Tsuna snapped at him, abruptly reminded that he had hands and that he could use them, jabbing a finger in the hitman's chest in frustration. "I'm not used to – to this." And he waved his hand in a very vague gesture, meaning everything and nothing, and he rather doubted that Reborn understood.

To his surprise, Reborn leaned further away from him, withdrawing until merely standing – rather closely – in front of him. Dark eyes, calculating but not unnerving, observed his expression. He slowly took hold of Tsuna's right hand, delicately lacing their fingers together.

"Huh," Tsuna stuttered out when neither of them moved, Reborn still staring at him attentively, and looked down at their hands, confused at the sudden cautiousness. "What?"

"There is more behind your nickname than you let your former watchers believe, isn't there?"

"What?" Tsuna repeated, nonplussed by the abrupt switch in the conversation.

"You seem to be as equally liked as you are hated among your classmates and pitied by your teachers when they don't forget your existence," Reborn stated clearly, shocking Tsuna into silence as he realized that the hitman was reciting his earlier comments down to the same word. "Scorn and pity lingering among respect and indifference."

Tsuna bit the inside of his cheek briefly, frowning. "It just shows that things can change as years pass," he remarked as casually as he could. "I don't see wh – "

"Change, perhaps, but nothing vanishes." Reborn interrupted him, not quite done. "Past grievances might be forgiven, but not forgotten. Ignored or cast away, they shaped you into who you are, years later."

"What is your point?" Tsuna asked tightly, patience wearing thin and glaring at the hitman reproachfully.

"You're right to not expect kindness, especially from me," Reborn ignored his question completely, and Tsuna found himself inexplicably disagreeing with the cynical statement. "Yet, you know that I do not wish to hurt you in any shape, way or form."

Starting to understand where the hitman was heading with his convoluted reasoning, Tsuna slowly nodded. "Alright," he finally breathed out, feeling almost naked by how perceptive Reborn seemed to be sometimes. "You're right to think that my childhood has not been the epitome of peaceful and gentle – changed a few years ago, in fact – and that I have some – some issues."

"Boundaries, then" Reborn proposed, not otherwise reacting to the confirmation of his thoughts. "Of course," he added with the tone of someone who had planned the discussion entirely and therefore paying it little interest, "your behavior will have to adjust."

"I've observed enough couples to notice recurring actions, no matter identities or origins," Tsuna scowled. "I will not act like a love-sick fool, though."

"It would have quickly been unbearable," Reborn wryly agreed, hints of a smirk ghosting over his lips. "No matter, I'll be there to make up for any inconsistencies or mistakes."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Tsuna snarked back before he solemnly continued. "I won't cringe or shy away from you, Reborn. Just," he hesitated then, "nothing more than cuddles, alright?" And because he was not foolishly optimistic, he added, "no kisses unless really necessary."

"Alright."

Reborn's easy acceptance completely relaxed him. He closed his eyes, sighing in relief. In the privacy of his mind, he dryly noticed that sharing a single bed to sleep several times during their tribulations had the unexpected advantage that he was slightly more comfortable with the hitman's proximity – and therefore his touch through the occasional accidental brushes of shoulders or fingers – than he would have been with anyone else, barring his mother.

It was only when Reborn pulled away his hand, releasing Tsuna from the light grip, to check the hour that Tsuna realized that they had been holding hands for quite some time and he had forgotten about it. He glanced down at his fingers, flexing them with little wonder, quietly acknowledging that he hadn't felt wrong or uncomfortable. No, it had been usual, unsurprising, almost natural.

"Stay here, piccolino," Reborn told him, voice sounding distant to Tsuna who was barely listening. "We will not return to the cabin after breakfast, it would be wise to get our stuff back before making our way up."

"Sure," Tsuna agreed absently. "I'll wait."

He forced his eyes away from his hand and wondered if he should worry that his fingers seemed to tingle where they had entwined with Reborn's.

Their Yamaha was sandwiched between Da's Vauxhall and Nora's Mini, with Conall's Ford parked beside his father's car. Tsuna glanced at them where he stood among their Irish, English and French guides, endlessly amused by the fortuitous fact that these three vehicles were part of the procession they had passed a few days ago. He had assumed that it was for a party, a birthday party, and he had not been far from the mark. Paying no mind to the conversations flowing around him, he looked around with curiosity. His attention was instantly caught by the sight of ruins in the middle of a green meadow, and he tilted his head to the side, squinting at them, wondering what they were supposed to be.

"Callan Priory," Quinn informed him without any prompting, noticing his interest.

"Do you know its story?" Tsuna asked him, more for conversation than anything.

"No," he admitted, then glanced at their friends. "Why not taking a closer look? There might be information displayed on the priory."

Tsuna hesitated, half-convinced that leaving the group wasn't a good idea.

"We're taking a break, anyway," Quinn added. "Kilkenny is at twenty minutes from here. It should leave you a few minutes to spare to appreciate a bit of Ireland's history."

"We'll come with you," Nora chimed in, looping an arm around Sloane's elbow.

"Conall," Quinn called his friend out, "won't you keep us company while entertaining Leon with your knowledge over Irish legends?"

"Sure," Conall, who looked strikingly like his father and brother, agreed. "Ma, we'll be back in a few minutes."

She nodded at him absently, her attention greatly focused on a miserable Galen. Contrary to Aodh, who was patting his back in sympathy, his hangover was worse than he had expected. He had been shockingly pale, tense and crumpled in Conall's Ford, looking ready to keel over. The break was supposed to help him recover, but Tsuna doubted that it would really help. Morna and Frowin had wandered back into town, volunteering to get bottles of water and a few snacks. While the idea of eating made Galen blanch then turn a worrying shade of green, it was better to be sick with a full stomach than an empty one. Da, a frown creasing his forehead, was searching his trunk for something to help Galen.

"It ought to be interesting," Reborn conceded to the suggestion.

He threw an unreadable look at Quinn. While Tsuna couldn't decipher it, he knew that it was certainly not friendly.

"Brilliant," Quinn looked almost wary, and he turned away.

He shared a glance with Conall as he led the way towards the ruins. Conall looked bemused for a heartbeat or two, before his eyes flickered to Tsuna and the two women. His expression turned grave as he gave a nod, then lit up in enthusiasm. Without wasting another second, he drew an unimpressed Reborn into conversation, while Quinn picked up his pace, keeping a worrying Tsuna with him. They arrived first at the ruins, Nora and Sloane having already wandered away in the meadow, and Conall purposefully slowing down his walk to give the lead privacy.

"So," Quinn spoke up as they stared at the weary but sturdy old stones. "I have to admit that we're all curious about you two."

Tsuna closed his eyes briefly, not at all surprised. He braced himself for the incoming interrogation, praying that Reborn would manage to find his way to us quickly enough to prevent a disaster.

"I can imagine," he shuffled his feet, looking back at the ruins. "Though there isn't much to say, you know. We're like other people."

"Of course, you are," Quinn shot him a startled look. "Gay or straight, it doesn't matter. It's your heart that needs to be at the right place," he patted his chest accordingly. "No, it wasn't what I meant, lad."

"Okay," Tsuna was slightly amused by the misunderstanding, relaxing minutely. "I don't mind answering a few questions, right, but – well, there are probably some that I won't answer. If they're too, you know, personal," he tackled on when he sensed that he could attempt to pass his reluctance for genuine shyness.

"Aye, I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable," Quinn gave him a meaningful look, no doubt knowing that Tsuna was anything but at ease. "I was, well, wondering where you were planning to go after meeting with your friend."

"We don't know yet," Tsuna shrugged, sticking to the truth as much as he could. "Scotland, maybe, or we'll return to the continent, who knows?"

"Ah, you're going where your heart wills you to," Quinn mused. "It's true that with a good head, a wise heart and the means, you can go nearly anywhere with little problems."

"Yeah, I wouldn't be able to travel like so without Leon," Tsuna admitted, letting a smile curl his lips.

"Oh?" Quinn turned around, slowly walking along the wall.

"Yeah," Tsuna knew that it was an opportunity to paint Reborn in a better light after the rather unfortunate first impression, and he slowly carried on, thinking on his words. "He's – he's like my guide, you know, but more, I guess? Showing me beautiful places, offering me traditional and exotic meals, listening to my doubts and wishes, encouraging me to be who I am without worrying about people's opinions and to reach for what I seek, helping me all the way, being patient and kind – "he abruptly cut himself off, scratching the back of his neck self-consciously and giving his interlocutor a sheepish grin. "Well," he coughed, "he kind of gives me the opportunity to be more than what I thought I was. So, yeah, I guess I wouldn't be here without him."

He swallowed down the laugh that threatened to burst out of his lips at his last statement and glanced at Quinn from the corners of his eyes, assessing.

"Meeting people tends to change you," Quinn agreed, voice distant as his eyes wandered down the memory lane. "For better or for worse."

"Only if you give them a chance," Tsuna replied quietly, looking at what used to be a window. "And sometimes, you notice that it's worth it."

"Speaking from experience, aren't you," Quinn stated, blinking away lingering memories.

"When I met Leon, the first time, we started off on the wrong foot," Tsuna admitted softly, thinking of the first day and night. "He's intense in almost every way you can imagine. His feelings, his thoughts, his personality – he knows what he wants and he doesn't take kindly to half-hearted, well, souls. It's everything or nothing."

"He sounds difficult and excessively demanding," Quinn remarked, eyebrows raised. "Quite selfish."

Tsuna snorted. "I dare you to find anyone who isn't selfish. Of course he's selfish, but then again, I'm no better. No, Leon expects nothing but your best, and in turn, he will give you everything. How can you refuse to return the favor? This – this expectation, it was what I needed to grow into who I am now." He paused, feigning to search for his words. "He taught me to stand by myself – to speak up and to refuse to be treated like dirt, to live according to your own convictions and to refuse to let people dictate your life. He freed me, in a way."

Quinn stopped walking when Tsuna turned his back to the ruins, casting his eyes towards the shivering grass and the murmuring trees. None of them noticed Reborn's and Conall's discreet approach.

"That happens only because I gave him a chance – no, because we gave each other – us – a chance."

Quinn let the silence fell, watching him contemplatively. "You know," he finally stated plainly.

"I'm touched that you all like me enough to watch out for me," Tsuna turned back to him, evenly meeting sharp grey eyes. "As I said earlier, I'm glad we've met. This journey would have been emptier somehow."

Raising his hands in a surrendering pose, Quinn gave him a rueful smile. "I can't argue against that, now, can I?" His eyes softened, gentle. "Aye, lad, we're all glad to have met you too."

"Why do I have the impression that Leon isn't included?" Tsuna teased him in a dry tone.

"You wouldn't be wrong," Quinn snorted.

They started when Conall made his presence known by drawling matter-of-factly, "that's the most adorable thing I've ever heard. Be glad that neither Ma or the girls were there, or you would have been smothered to death."

Tsuna groaned and buried his face in his hands. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough," Conall deadpanned.

Reborn caught his wrists with a firm but careful grip, leaning down slightly to whisper, "Everything."

Mortified, Tsuna resisted the light tug given by the hitman, refusing to show his reddening cheeks. Reborn was undeterred. He wrapped his long fingers around Tsuna's hands, patiently pulling them away. The effects of the thus revealed scowl was quite ruined, but Tsuna kept it up.

"And how, pray tell, did you do that?" He asked sulkily, his instincts not calling out any lie. "You weren't even near us."

"I have excellent hearing," Reborn answered promptly.

Quinn gave a polite cough. Tsuna started, having completely forgotten him, and pulled away from the hitman abruptly. Reborn surprisingly let him go, only keeping trapped one of his hands.

"Alright lovebirds," Conall drawled, "Galen has survived his hangover. Everyone's waiting for us."

They hurried back to the others, finding them all in their cars. Galen had switched, preferring to stay with Ma and Da. Accordingly, Quinn slipped in Conall's Ford without any prompting. Reborn only released Tsuna when they stopped by their motorbike. Snatching Tsuna's helmet, the hitman helped him put it on with a smirk.

"Well?" Tsuna crossed his arms with a huff, staring up at him. "What do you think?"

"Convincing," Reborn offered, his tone less smug that Tsuna expected, but almost contemplative.

Tsuna threw his leg over the bike with the agility of youth and habit, quietly musing that it was only convincing because a good part of his speech was based on the truth. He didn't say any of his thoughts, however, and merely wrapped his arms back around Reborn's waist.

Finding the place of the competition was easy between the advertisements, the temporary road signs and the flow of interested people leading the way. Finding Skull, however, was everything but easy.

"Isn't it supposed to be lunch break or something?" Tsuna muttered as they braved the crowd.

He narrowly avoided collision with an enthusiastic and running teen, watching him join a group that had been waiting. When he didn't receive any response to his complaint, he glanced around him and found, to his horror, that Reborn was nowhere to be seen. He froze for a few seconds, fighting back the reflexive panic, and chided himself into thinking calmly. He could stay there and hope to spot the hitman or to be spotted. He also could decide to venture elsewhere, maybe by finding where the stunt(wo)men were resting, training, taking care of their bikes or whatever it was that they did before demonstrating. Then again, he could very well return to their Yamaha and wait for Reborn there.

The logical thing was to wait where Tsuna was certain the hitman would inevitably return. He would have readily backtracked to their bike if only there weren't who-knew how many guys stalking them for their heads on a plate. He might be a bit paranoid, but he had no info over their pursuers, their locations or even their means. Truthfully, he would have risked it anyway, because the possibility was likely low, and he needed Reborn with him. There was something indubitably terrifying in resuming the run on his own, without a sarcastic and watchful presence guiding him. And yet, ever since they had arrived in Kilkenny, he had been plagued by the vicious impression that they needed to leave as soon and as quickly as they could.

Terrible timing to get separated.

As for their friends, they had already left to avoid getting stuck into traffic and bring a sick Galen into a comfortable (unmoving) bed. Meaning that Tsuna was alone and without help.

"Wonderful," he muttered, glancing around as he resumed his walk.

It was ridiculous, really. How had they managed to lose sight of each other? They had walked through thicker crowds than this one, and in towns that were certainly bigger than the parking lot and the streets serving as hosts for the event. Granted, their ambiances were not as merry and excited, with fewer distractions. Tsuna had to admit that he had got side-tracked when they had passed by the crafters stands, spotting a few jewels that his mother would have absolutely adored. Still. Considering his obscure sense of unease, he shouldn't stay alone and find Reborn quickly – and Skull, preferably before anything happened.

Tsuna ducked out of the way, fluidly stopping between two stands of food. His eyes swept around, absently checking his surroundings. He wondered how he would find his partner-in-crime who was, certainly, searching for him. Which meant that Reborn wouldn't stay in one place. It also meant that there was a high chance that the hitman found him on his own, if his claim on his skills was any true. Now, where should he discreetly linger to help along? As the Yamaha was out of the question, then he should pick several spots to switch irregularly.

The refreshment stalls. There were three them. One was near the heart of the event, another one was at the crossroad of two streets and the last one was at one of the entrances of the parking. The flow of the visitors and other strollers was more important in the parking, where most of the stalls were. Considering that it was between twelve and one in the afternoon, the refreshment stalls were brimming with activity – along with the snacks stalls sandwiching Tsuna. Plan in mind and aware that his awkward stillness was beginning to draw attention, Tsuna dove back into the crowd.

So went he, waving through the crowd leisurely, towards the stall attracting the most visitors. He was not very far from it and in a couple of minutes, he was already there. He instantly went for the large tree beside the stall, glancing at the seated and standing chatting people. Without pausing, he avoided friends, families and couples, to reach the large shade offered by the plentiful green leaves. Instead of turning his attention back to the strollers, he circled the tree to squint at the trunks he could see beyond the typical crowd control barriers. The zone was reserved to the participants and members of the staff if the sounds of sport bikes were any indication. Skull might be over there.

Shuffling closer, Tsuna put his hands on the metallic barrier in front of him to lean forward. A movement caught his attention at the corner of his eyes. Glancing at his left, he stopped himself from outright reacting at the very (very) creepy stare he was being subjected to by a man who didn't look to be either a staff member or a stuntman. Tsuna wanted to duck back behind the tree for cover as soon as his eyes met the unnerving gaze. Instead, he made sure to shift his gaze slightly up to keep staring for a few more seconds, keeping his face blank, to finally look away without seeming to have noticed anything amiss. He counted to ten before retreating back to the saunterers.

Instead of lingering near the tree, Tsuna mingled among the wanderers musing over their orders of drinks and foods. He took great care to not stay in any lines, letting people pass. It was growing urgent to find both Reborn and Skull if his mounting dreadful anticipation was any hint. He scrutinized his surroundings, relaxing minutely when the creepy guy didn't show up. He wished Reborn would appear. Last time they had been truly separated, people died. Granted, they weren't innocent civilians but still. Tsuna would very much like to avoid another bloodbath. And if the sinking feeling in his stomach meant anything, then time was steadily running short.

His eyes flicked on a woman looking around her, scanning the crowd with a concentrated frown. She was clearly searching for someone. When her gaze fell on him, her expression shifted into pensiveness. Even before she started to walk towards him, Tsuna knew that she thought she had found her mark. He wavered, hesitating between letting her come or sneak back into the flow of strollers. She seemed harmless enough, and therefore decided to stay put, watching her approach with open curiosity but hidden wariness. When she was close enough, she gave him a last once-over and nodded to herself.

"Piccolino?" She asked in an accented Italian.

Tsuna blinked, surprised to hear his nickname. He slowly nodded in confirmation, not daring talking. She smiled at him, her brown eyes crinkling at the edges.

"Fiorentini's waiting at my sister's stand," she told him in English, comfortable in her native tongue.

Tsuna stared blankly at her, thinking Fiorentini who? He spent the following seconds puzzling the name out, knowing that if Reborn was truly behind the alias, there should be a message behind.

"He looked so concerned when he couldn't find you. Sis and I couldn't stay there without doing anything, so we've asked – "

Tsuna nodded automatically to her chatter, listening absently. He was following her a step behind, keeping most of his attention on the crowd around them. Fiorentini could refer to plenty movies obviously, so, why would Reborn use this name – a family name – as a recognizable and identifiable alias? Why not sticking with Leon?

"Your man looks really intimidating when he's frowning," his guide was saying, oblivious to his inattentiveness. "With a black and white suit, sunglasses and an ear-com, he would make the perfect picture of the handsome bodyguard."

Tsuna produced an odd noise from the back of his throat, throwing his input somehow. A bodyguard with the name of Leon Fiorentini? He would gladly run far away from whoever carried both this name and the same threatening intensity as –

Eyes widening, Tsuna almost stopped walking. He should have noticed earlier, it was so obvious. Hurrying forward to match her pace, he rolled his eyes at himself. The similitudes were blatant. Leon and Hubert Fiorentini had been played by the same actor. Hubert might have been a cop, but he still paid little mind to laws when he needed to protect what was extremely important to him. While Tsuna was certainly not Reborn's treasure, the hitman was nevertheless currently keeping him alive. Both duos were escaping from threats. Aside from some details, the parallel was evident. Speaking of, could it be that Reborn had also noticed the malevolent eyes searching for them? It could explain why he chose Fiorentini over, for example, Campana.

"We're almost there," his Samaritan smiled at him in reassurance, making Tsuna realize that she had taken his silence as either worry or uncertainty.

He answered with a smile of his own, trying to communicate gratefulness. Ducking beneath a boisterous wave of an arm, Tsuna increased his pace to avoid a repeat from earlier. Casting his eyes around, he recognized the stalls nearby as the very same spot where he had lost Reborn. He inwardly facepalmed, realizing that if he had waited a little longer, they would have found each other sooner. He cringed when the crowd parted to let a pair of skateboarders pass, leaving him in plain sight for two dark eyes to glare furiously at him. Knowing that it was the second time in a really short time that Tsuna had vanished from his side, Reborn's annoyance was expected – and warranted.

"Sorry!" Tsuna blurted out as soon as he was within earshot, eyes wide as he did his best to convey his remorse. "I'm really – really sorry."

Reborn stared him down, utterly silent. Tsuna was barely aware of the two women holding their breaths at the scene, recognizing the mood without needing to understand the language. He searched Reborn's expression, attempting to decipher how upset he was. He didn't move when Reborn reached for his right wrist, letting the other draw him closer.

"If you disappear one more time," Reborn intoned lowly, his baritone voice dropping a few octaves, "I will manacle our wrists together."

Tsuna laughed nervously but nodded his understanding. He knew that Reborn would not hesitate to execute his word. Tsuna felt something cold snapped around his right wrist, and for a wild second, he believed that the hitman had changed his mind and decided to bound them together right now. Glancing down, he watched Reborn's fingers withdraw from his skin to reveal a bracelet. It was a heavy clasp of silver, engraved with delicate swirls. He noticed that its twin was on the hitman's corresponding arm.

"To remind you of my promise," Reborn drawled with great sarcasm at his bewildered look, before turning to their spectators, thanking them in perfect English with a charming smile.

Tsuna tore his attention away from the matching pair of bracelets to express his gratefulness once again, managing to sound sincere through his shock. His distraction was swiftly cast away when he felt a pair of eyes digging a hole through the back of his head. His back went stiff and he stared intently at the ceramics exposed by his former guide's sister. It was only when Reborn casually wrapped an arm around his waist that he relaxed, remembering that it was better to fake obliviousness.

He waited until they bid goodbye to the kind souls and walked away, mingling into the crowd. Reborn shifted his hold from the waist to the shoulders, steering Tsuna closer to him without hindering their fast pace.

"I know where Skull is," Tsuna told him. "I also notice one of our – "he hesitated then settled for "– our fans nearby."

"I counted three of them," Reborn informed him, following Tsuna's subtle guiding. "Fourth, then, with the one you spotted. Did you fool yours?"

"I tried but I don't know if I succeeded."

"You haven't been gunned down," Reborn remarked coolly. "An encouraging sign."

"Well, it wouldn't have been very sneaky in front of so many witnesses," Tsuna pointed out, taken aback by his tone.

Reborn shot him a look. "You're a Vongola heir. If they have an opportunity to take you out, they will use it. Doesn't matter when or where. Witnesses are certainly not a concern of theirs."

"Why are we hiding in crowds then? Is it only to make us disappear beneath too many heads, shoulders and backs?"

"That, and to have shields."

Tsuna felt his blood leave his cheeks alarmingly fast and he tripped over his feet. It was only Reborn's grip on his shoulders that stopped him from falling.

"What?" Tsuna whispered in horror, turning his head to stare owlishly at the hitman. "What?"

"You heard me," Reborn flatly responded, looking decidedly unconcerned.

Tsuna spluttered incoherently, searching for words to express his appalled consternation. Reborn's grasp tightened in anticipation of him recoiling from the hitman, but the thought had not even crossed Tsuna's mind despite his disapproval.

"What were you expecting, piccolino?" Reborn rhetorically asked him, voice mocking and eyes gleaming. "I am neither kind or compassionate. Our survivals are my priority. I do not concern myself over irrelevant pawns."

Tsuna narrowed his eyes, refusing to accept his words as truthful. "You might believe yourself heartless, Reborn," he spat out, his tone clearly conveying how (un)convinced he was, "but you've spent the last weeks contradicting yourself."

"You're only seeing what you wish to see," Reborn contradicted him, his lips curling into a sneer.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black!" Tsuna scoffed at him, irritated by the hitman's insistence at portraying himself as anything but a faulty – with streaks of grey, of good and bad traits – human.

He twisted in Reborn's grasp, facing him with burning eyes and a resolved frown. Without thinking, he smacked Reborn's chest with an open palm, infuriated, before tugging on his shirt with enough strength to pull him at eye-level.

"If you refuse to open your eyes to the damn truth, I will make you." Tsuna swore calmly, his gaze unwavering.

He was close enough to see astonishment flash into dark eyes. The emotion vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a foreboding glee. Tsuna suddenly realized how close their faces were, barely a breath apart, and his gaze involuntarily flicked down to Reborn's lips. He shivered at the wicked smirk he found, wondering what hell he had willingly unleashed.

"I look forward to it," Reborn purred, chuckling when Tsuna abruptly released him as if scalded.

Tsuna huffed but refused to be intimidated, crossing his arms on his chest stubbornly. He quickly abandoned this position when he noticed that they had stopped in the middle of the street, people flowing around them, being disturbances more than anything. Reborn shook his head at him, and Tsuna thought that he looked almost fond, before his arm returned at their initial place to resume their walk.

Despite Tsuna's careful look around, he didn't see the creepy man from earlier. Taking Reborn's hand without prompting, he vaulted over the barrier to land beside the hitman. His uneasy feeling had yet to worsen into headache or other sickness. It was not reassuring. It meant that none of their fans were near, true. However, it would be foolish to believe that their hunters had given up. Tsuna wouldn't be surprised that they had called on a meeting to discuss a strategy now that their targets had been sighted.

"You wouldn't be wrong," Reborn commented as if he had talked aloud.

"There's already enough weirdos tracking us, you don't need to add to the lot," Tsuna deadpanned.

"Hey!" A familiar voice cut in. "The zone's off-li – Dude!"

As one, Reborn and Tsuna turned around at the unexpected shout in Japanese. Standing near an impressive sport bike was a twenty-something man looking delightedly at them. Apart from his full leather suit and his shockingly pale complexion, his hair, eyes, make-up and shoulder pads were purple. Even his helmet was partly painted with the color, along with the design of an octopus above the visor. His grin brought attention to the glinting chain linking his lower lip ring piercing with his pierced lobe. He placed his helmet hurriedly on his bike's seat and trotted forward with the obvious intent of giving a hug.

Tsuna squeaked when his arm was abruptly tugged on and he tripped, falling back against Reborn's chest, watching Skull crash against the metallic barrier. He winced in sympathy.

"What was that for?" He hissed at the hitman, stepping away from him.

"Reflex," Reborn offered unapologetically, elegantly shrugging.

"Right," Tsuna muttered with a dubious look, turning away to hover uncertainly over Skull.

He noticed an eyebrow piercing as well as another one below his (purple) lips. The stuntman straightened up on his own, looking completely unaffected by his fall, his grin still in place.

"Last time I saw you," Skull began as if nothing had happened, continuing a conversation that hadn't started, "it was at the freakin' hospital, all bandaged up. How're you?"

"All healed, as you can see," Tsuna answered with a smile, playing along and genuinely glad to see him.

"That's great, man," Skull replied, keen eyes watching him closely.

He nodded to himself, satisfied with what he was seeing. His gaze went to Reborn and he cocked an eyebrow.

"So, what's Mister Darcy doing there?"

"In this case, who are you supposed to be?" Reborn sarcastically asked, looking unimpressed. "Mister Wickham?"

"If I'm anyone, then it's Jane," Skull boldly claimed. "She's freakin' awesome – like me."

"I'm no Elizabeth, guys," Tsuna dryly reminded them, ignoring Skull's wounded look. "No need to start throwing verbal daggers at each other."

"Who's your man, then?"

"Reborn, hitman extraordinaire," he introduced himself before Tsuna could say anything. "Currently gorgeous tutor and wicked protector as well. Also, looking for a safe place to hide from stubborn assassins."

Skull stared at him, speechless, then at Tsuna.

"I'm afraid it's true," he confirmed with a wince.

"T'wasn't exactly what I had in mind last time," Skull commented, his lips twitching in a wry smile, "but Skull the Immortal keeps his damn word!"

"You'll help us?" Tsuna lit up, on the brink of exploding in relief.

"Sure," Skull shrugged. "You can crash in my place in Iceland."

"Iceland?" Tsuna parroted back, recognizing it but hesitating.

"Yeah, if you've got greens and fake IDs, you can get a plane ticket or a ferry ticket," Skull worried his lip piercing, pensive. "Not the best place to hole up coz strangers are, like, instantly spotted by the local folks. That, and I guess guys with cracking skills can get to the registers. Precisely why your hounds won't think of going there, coz it's not the usual hideout. Plus, if you stay low and are nice to the folks, you won't get problems."

"Worth a shot," Reborn decided after a few beats of silence. "I can deal with any uninvited guests, anyway."

"Easy on the deadly business," Skull eyed him warily. "I quite like the folks, nice all, and the house, and I'd keep them if possible."

"No promises," Reborn answered with a shark-like smirk.

Tsuna took pity on his friend's worried frown. "I'll keep him out of trouble." He ignored Reborn's scoff and carried on. "It's the same place, right? What about the other?"

"Sold it," Skull stated flatly. "Got a few problems there." His eyes lit up and he smiled, "Húsavik's a cool place. You'll like it." His expression grew serious once more. "You remember the key?"

Tsuna scrunched up his nose in thought, until his eyes fell on Skull's purple tattoo.

"A story for a supper," he recited quietly, "a lullaby for a lover, cheers for cheekiness and tears for truthfulness."

Skull nodded approvingly. "Remember who it is that you're to meet?"

"The keeper of the skr – skrimsli," he tripped over the unfamiliar word, impressed with himself to have recalled it, "watching over your purple house."

"Right, he lives in the white house with a red roof and blue windows," Skull clarified. "Everyone thinks he's loony. You'll get odd looks asking for him so don't bother. Do what I told you to, and everything's gonna be fine."

Tsuna nodded. "Right, sure. Thanks, Skull," he sincerely added, smiling widely. "Your place might just save our lives."

Skull laughed. "Yeah, well, when things cool down, don't forget to gimme a sign, 'kay? I wanna know you're alive and kicking, you know."

"I will," Tsuna promised and repeated his thanks.

He glanced at Reborn, finding his silence suspicious. To the untrained eye, the hitman looked casual, standing around with two friends and content with passively participating. To Tsuna who knew better, it was apparent that Reborn was paying the barest attention to the conversation and was instead focusing on their surroundings, be it the crowd, the staff or the buildings around them. Despite keeping his hands buried in his pockets, the faintest line of tension of his back spoke of a spring ready to snap at the first sign of hostility.

Tsuna resisted the urge to send paranoid looks around him. He had also realized that eyes were trained on them, burning holes in their necks. Acting nonchalant was quite difficult when he was constantly wondering if there was a sniper or a bold assassin getting ready to start the fight. Between the three of them, only Skull seemed to be completely oblivious. If Tsuna had any say, it would stay like this.

"We have to go," Reborn suddenly ordered, eyes snapping back to Tsuna.

"Already?" Skull looked surprised, watching them closely. "You really don't have a moment for yourselves, huh?"

"Wait, Reborn," Tsuna grasped the hitman's arm as the man seemed on the verge of manhandling him away. "Will Skull be left alone?"

"Perhaps," Reborn replied on a dismissive tone. "He'll get a better chance if we don't stick around any longer."

"D- don't worry about me, Tsuna," Skull bravely chocked out, complexion whitening in fright. "There's a reason why people called me the dude hated by the grim reaper," he tried to reassure him with a grimace that could pass for a smile. "Besides, what's an assassin compared to a helicopter exploding in flight, right?"

That was not reassuring, certainly not for Tsuna. Reborn didn't seem to find it alarming, and he would have asked for a detail or two if time wasn't against them.

"There, you have it," he impatiently tugged on Tsuna's hand. "He'll be fine, if a little maimed. Now, we must go."

"Right! Alright," Tsuna huffed, letting the hitman drag him away, and he twisted his upper-body to face Skull one last time. "Thanks again, Skull! And be careful, alright?"

Skull nodded wordlessly, waving a hand and watching them hurrying back into the fluctuating crowd. He kept his eyes on the saunterers, a frown creasing his forehead, as he muttered a quick blessing – a ritual he had kept ever since his first stunt. Superstition or not, he would rather offer as much luck and protection he could to his friend than merely watching him flee from threats without giving him as many chances as possible. He only snapped out of his thoughts when another stuntman, exasperated by Skull's lack of response to his calls, threw his white and purple helmet at him. It smashed perfectly into the back of his head, effectively making him squawk and turn around in offense.

Meanwhile, Reborn was still dragging an unresisting Tsuna through the saunterers. By hurrying to match the hitman's pace, Tsuna ended up trotting beside him. Some passersby gave them odd looks, but most paid little mind to them apart from letting them pass without hindrance. Their bike was parked out of the closed street, in a facing square. They would have to cross a busy road beforehand, one leading to Dublin and over a river. The very same river whispering quietly at their left, gleaming in the sunlight. Vaulting over the two metallic barriers serving as a gate for the closed and pedestrian street for the event, they caught sight of three men sipping coffee at the terrace from the corner of his eyes. Before anyone could act, Reborn had already gunned down two out of them. The survivor threw himself behind shocked clients whose eyes were staring down at the two corpses with evident horror.

Tsuna would have joined them, along with a horrified shriek at the hitman, if his instincts weren't buzzing with alarming whispers, warning him that the threats were yet to be completely taken care of. He ducked without thinking, narrowly avoiding a shot coming from one of the windows above the café. Reborn clucked his tongue irritably, taking out the nearest man crawling out from behind the terrified civilians, aiming still for Tsuna.

"An ambush," he mused, glaring at the window where the sniper had disappeared.

"Lovely," Tsuna muttered, eyeing warily his surroundings and wincing in sympathy at the innocents witnessing the confrontation. "Broad daylight and in front of so many people? They really don't care about being recognized, do they?"

Reborn gestured for him to hurry forward, fingers clenching his weapon. "No, and they care little about keeping us discreet and away from the medias."

"Marvelous, exactly what we needed," Tsuna scoffed beneath his breath, checking by habit the road.

Several cars were approaching, though not as quickly as they would when there weren't so many people in one place. They crossed quickly, ignoring the civilians leaving the premises as soon as they could. Tsuna reached the bike first, throwing his helmet at Reborn while he flung a leg over the seat. The hitman barely took the time to put it on, riding the bike and starting the engine.

Intuition flared and Tsuna glanced at his left, catching the sniper rushing out of the café with his rifle already half-way on his shoulder. It was not what his guts were warning him about and twisting around, he spotted a black Toyota coming. He didn't manage to see anything else as the bike suddenly burst into motion. He grasped the handles with a startled squeak and faced Reborn's back, automatically shifting his stance.

They entered traffic without a hitch, slaloming recklessly and purposefully between cars. Their daring earned them horn blasts and insults. Sounds that were rapidly drawn by shots. Tsuna threw a glance over his shoulder, watching the sniper from before leaning out of the backseat window, looking frighteningly intent at reaching his mark. Tsuna made a face beneath his helmet, partly annoyed but mostly afraid by the stubbornness.

Reborn gave another boost, right as they were reaching the bridge's arch peak, and the bike temporarily ceased to touch ground. Tsuna's grip turned his knuckles white at both feeling suspended and at the shot missing their heads. The hitman overtook another car, narrowly avoiding collision with another coming from their front. Reborn didn't seem affected by their other brush with death, merely accelerating again. At this point, Tsuna didn't know who was going to get him dead first – Reborn or their hunters.

They continued further into the town, progressively distancing their pursuers who did not share their agility. Furthermore, the sniper had temporarily given up. Reborn carried on his wild spree, gleefully breaking any speed limitation and weaving his way between cars on the two lanes alike, daredevil as he was and seeking to shake off their pursuers as soon as possible. Tsuna kept glancing frequently over his shoulders, tracking the progress or rather, the fall of the Toyota. His instincts had ceased screaming at him to get away fast and right now, you idiot, but were ominously thrumming at the back of his mind, where his soulmate's bond was humming with deep focus and thrilling excitation.

Reborn didn't let up on the speed as they left Kilkenny, smoothly continuing on the main road. If anything, he picked up the pace, and Tsuna was suddenly glad that the hitman had thought of getting some fuel before going to see Skull. He wished he had a way to communicate with Reborn aside from taps on the shoulder. It wasn't as if they truly had the occasion to buy headsets but there was no denying that they would have been greatly helpful. He didn't know how long until they reached Dublin – he assumed – and if Reborn counted on driving like a madman.

In his mind, Tsuna could hear the hitman snap at him that they couldn't offer to be careless when their trackers were so close, knowing where they were going and how. Sighing, his shoulders dropped. Sending a squinting look above his shoulder, he couldn't see any grim Toyota behind them. Carefully, he switched his grip from the handles to Reborn's waist, intending to further embracing the bike's movements by taking his cues from the rider in front of him.

Tsuna didn't know how long they took to reach Dublin. He had relaxed at some point during the ride, sitting less stiffly on the bike. He had also grown hungry, but he had occulted the feeling until it either vanished on its own or he adjusted to the sensation enough to dismiss it. Directing his thoughts to wonder about their next moves were distracting, and he soon mused that getting a ticket for Iceland was well and good, but he very much doubted that a flight was scheduled for this evening or within the two next days. They would have to hide, then. He could only hope that the civilians from Kilkenny had not given enough information to hinder their escape.

As they approached the capital, Reborn ignored the signs leading towards the artery and dived instead towards quieter roads of residential areas. Tsuna frowned behind him, feeling his skin crawl forebodingly. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the Toyota catching up to them. Eyes skipping over a Citroën and a very nice Bentley, he squinted further but didn't see their pursuers. Yet, his mind was steadily humming with the song of danger and caution. It was worsening as they drew closer to the heart of the city. He fidgeted, turning back to stare at Reborn's back, debating over the merits of warning the hitman.

At the next crossroad, Reborn dramatically slowed down, both due to the traffic and to his intent to cross the lane to get to the service station. At the first glimpse of a window, the hitman cut his way between a van and a compact car. Tsuna winced as he caught sight of the outraged expression of the driver, knowing that Reborn truly had no care over respecting any civilities or rules – most of the time. The station was small, offering two slots, currently taken. They went in line behind a Volkswagen. Reborn took off his helmet and shot Tsuna an annoyed look, half-turning towards him.

"Out with it," he demanded.

Tsuna cringed, realizing that his nerves had somehow broken the hitman's concentration. He reached for his own helmet, setting it down on his lap.

"I just have a horrible impression," he tried to explain, "it's getting worse the closer and the further we get."

He expected to be scoffed at or dismissed and was mildly surprised when Reborn considered his words gravely. Encouraged, he insisted.

"I don't know what's coming for us, but I know that we need to leave. Like, right now."

"We can't," Reborn bluntly told him. "We're racing against both our trackers and the Irish police. The sooner we have our tickets, the further we'll be from them."

Tsuna's fingers twitched on his helmet. "We're not even certain we'll get – "he stiffened, wincing when the ominous thrumming burst into fierce whispers. Back straight, he glanced wildly around. "They're coming," he whispered, livid at how violent his instincts were.

He couldn't remember the last time they reacted so furiously – even the last weeks had been considerably calmer despite the few scuffles they got caught into. He caught Reborn looking at the crossroad, more specifically at the road facing them. The hitman's eyes instantly found two cars, two identical BMW. Tsuna watched, wide-eyed, as elegant features twisted into a snarl, lips curling savagely, abysses burning golden. Stunned, he squeaked when Reborn threw himself on him, arms wrapping tightly around him, one hand cradling his head as they hit the ground. Tsuna reflexively shut his eyes, blind but clearly hearing the volley of bullets hitting the pumps and the tanks and the following panic.

Beneath the blasts of horns and the screams of pedestrians, Tsuna caught Reborn viciously cursing when another salvo slammed into the fuel tanks. Instead of forcing them on their feet to run the hell away, the hitman shifted and tightened his hold until he was completely protecting Tsuna – a willing barrier against any fire.

And Tsuna – instincts blaring and mind racing to acknowledge that any time now, the fuel would explode, engulfing them into a searing hug, Reborn first – thought

No.

Enough!

And the world erupted into a sea of flames.

They burst from the fuel tanks in a resounding detonation, voracious and destructive as they greedily reached for the sky and spread in a deadly circle, crashing against cars and buildings, fiery tongues tauntingly licking any unfortunate passerby close enough.

They burst from deep within Tsuna's chest, pulsating with his heartbeat, unremitting and protective as they cloaked carefully around the pair and shielded unshakably vulnerable civilians, resisting the heat hurling with great fury, shapes shifting and absorbing the strongest flames into revocation.

Among the inflamed and blazing chaos, cackling and groaning, Tsuna snapped his eyes open and chocked on unshed tears, filled with familiar senses of confidence and calm, and for the first time since the Incident, the world whispered back!

He felt everyone's shock – unanimous and shared by all, enemies, strangers and allies alike – including his own, greatly muted. He could pinpoint the position of every civilian around him through their dread, awe and relief. He could pick up on their enemies' terror, disappointment and determination. For once since meeting Reborn, he could finally properly read the man. To his incredulity, he realized that he could delve much deeper than the surface emotions – much like he could with his mother. Bewilderment broke through his composure at the revelation that somehow Tsuna had ended up forming a bond – a genuine intangible bond – with the hitman without knowing it, and that was supposed to be impossible because it wasn't possible to miss things like that and there were only two bonds that he knew of.

Tsuna was extremely tempted to check his bonds on the spot, because there was only one explanation for his (rather intrusive) insight.

He was snapped out of his thoughts – thankfully, considering the situation – when he felt Reborn's chest rise and fall in a great swoosh. The hitman had apparently released an inaudibly huff, his hold loosening. Tsuna blinked but didn't move away. He normally would be extremely embarrassed by their closeness, face blushing a vivid scarlet and retreating with a splutter. And yet, like his bemusement, his embarrassment was distant, shoved in an uninterested corner of his mind. If he didn't move, it was for a complete different reason. His arms and legs felt like lead, foreign from him and as unmovable as any mountain. He wasn't even sure he could twitch.

"Quite unexpected," he heard Reborn coolly mused above him. "Yet, not surprising."

The remark told Tsuna that the hitman really liked keeping secrets, including any involving him, and that needed to change very soon. The thought was chased away when he sensed the friendly flames dispersing around them. Their disappearance made him light-headed and he involuntarily slumped against Reborn.

"No sleeping," the hitman sharply commanded, his voice sounding confusingly muffled. "No dying on me, either."

Tsuna managed to emit a noise from his throat without opening his mouth, sounding more interrogative than agreeing. He knew that Reborn, despite appearing unruffled and perfectly composed, was concerned and as seconds ticked by, increasingly murderously protective. It was worrying, and Tsuna tried to sound comforting, managing a croon. Reborn raised an eyebrow at him, dark eyes looking down searchingly at him as he leaned away.

Fire crackled beside them, heavy black smoke rising to the looming sky. Tsuna frowned unhappily at it, then at Reborn who had forced him to lean against their surviving Yamaha.

"Since you've been so nice to include the bike into your cocoon," the hitman smirked at him, faintly amused, "we might as well use it."

Tsuna couldn't protest, watching Reborn gave him another assessing look then smoothly standing up, brushing dirt from his clothes and strengthening his suit. He lowered his fedora, shadowing his gleaming eyes but heightening the whiteness of his bloodthirsty grin. Paying no mind to the fires and the smoke, he confidently aimed two guns at the BMWs. He waited until their enemies' attention was focused on him and only him, reading their fear in their posture and tasting it in the disgusting and suffocating air. He chuckled, breathing out lazily in musical Italian.

"Chaos shot."

Tsuna didn't need to see to know that the bullets hit true, feeling several presences and their feelings disappear simultaneously, listening to the shatter and yield of cars under Reborn's simple show of power. They stood no chance. Were he less calm, exhausted and busy to bask in the countless whispers the world was murmuring in his ears, his mind would be swimming with hundreds of questions, notably over how two bullets could possibly destroy two cars and how a fire without smoke could protect anyone without burning them down.

He blinked slowly, his eyelids drooping and listening to Reborn scoffing mockingly at their defeated enemies.

"Not yet time to sleep, piccolino," the hitman reminded him, coming closer with his usual prowl.

His eyes swept around, civilians flinching away when meeting his gaze. Saving the bike from damage was quite useless in their situation, considering how dangerous it was to transport an unconscious – or close to – passenger. Even half-asleep, Tsuna could see him pondering over their options, no doubt contemplating intimidating one of the surviving civilians still around into relinquishing their (intact) car to them.

"Not nice," he weakly chided from the ground, forcing his tongue and throat into movement.

Reborn was not looking at him, however. Tsuna lulled his head to the side with some difficulties to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that the hitman was staring at. The tall blond man looking at them with interested green eyes, wearing a khaki jumpsuit and black sturdy shoes, was a stranger for the duo.

"Shōichi was right," his unfamiliar voice mused, nonchalant and betraying none of the nervousness Tsuna could perceive – along with amusement and bemusement. "You do attract trouble like a positively charged object attracts lightning."

"You are?" Reborn enquired, eyebrow quirked and dangerous smirk, reacting before Tsuna could say anything.

"Spanner," the man introduced himself, lazily rising his arms in a surrendering pose. "Nice to meet the guy who saved my life."

"Shōichi?" Tsuna was barely audible over the surrounding noises, squinting at the civilian, cogs turning.

The name rang a bell, rather distant. Oddly, Kusakabe's face showed up as well. He sluggishly wondered if they had met due to the inevitable fights he got into while helping the Disciplinary Committee.

"Well?" Reborn glanced at him, lifting one of his guns to point at the sky. "Friend or foe?"

"Friend," Tsuna answered without hesitation.

He might not remember who Shōichi was or not know who Spanner was, it was pretty obvious that the man held no hostile intentions. Reborn was neither surprised or disappointed, eyeing the other. Spanner buried his hands in his pockets, taking it as a clearance.

"The fuzzy's on their way," he drawled, reminding them that the attempt had been anything but stealthy. "The bike's nice and everything, but my car's better," he added as he pointed above his shoulder with a thumb.

"And where are you thinking on taking us?" Reborn asked as he crouched in front of Tsuna, grasping his chin to firmly turn his head until their gazes met.

"Out of town," Spanner shrugged. "I'm currently staying in a house not too far away from here."

"Helping us will put you at risk," Reborn warned him, glancing back at him. "You will be considered as an ally of ours and consequently tracked down to be tortured for information and put to death afterwards."

"I'm not sticking around," he replied calmly, "my vacation ends in a few days, and I got a plane to catch tomorrow."

Reborn acknowledged his decision with a nod, eyes flicking back to Tsuna. "Can you stand?"

Tsuna didn't need to think to answer. His body felt like dead weight, and the energy he had used to turn his head to watch Spanner had already left him. It was to the point that it was Reborn who was holding his head up. In fact, he wasn't even sure that he could summon any strength. Thinking and blinking were almost too much to ask of him.

He would have panicked at his numbness, but his mind was preoccupied with the constant whispers of shock fear worry frustration curiosity calculation around him and the nudges his instincts had yet to cease giving over the most uninteresting facts ever.

Why should he care that the man in the fifth house on the left preferred to take tea with milk and two sugars and was allergic to flowers, particularly to sunflowers of all things?

Annoyed by his lack of attention, Reborn flicked his forehead. When Tsuna didn't flinch or react otherwise than by blinking, he passed an arm around the bend of his knees and the other at his back to lift him up smoothly. Standing up, the hitman's lips pulled down into a frown at the lack of reaction – aside from a slight widening of eyes. Reborn almost had the impression of carrying a cadaver with how limp and compliant Tsuna was. He chased the thought away and adjusted his hold to avoid letting any hand dangle.

"The car's this way," Spanner spun around, avoiding making any comment.

Reborn glanced down at Tsuna, eyes half-lidded and barely awake, and tightened his hold without thinking.

"Sleep, piccolino."

A few hours later, upon waking, Tsuna wished he could fall back asleep. If his still absurdly exhausted state meant anything, he shouldn't be awake until a few more days – or maybe a month if he had any say. The calm confidence from earlier had disappeared, replaced by a hellish headache. Amplified by the cheery mischievousness clashing against a familiar aura of ominous annoyance, with amusement and distress orbiting around.

His eyes snapped open and he gasped, attracting everyone's attention on him, as he realized that the word had not shut him off!

He blinked furiously, his vision turning misty. After ten years of silence and blindness, his perceptiveness was back. It was weirdly muted, as if he was listening to someone speaking while he was swimming under water, but he was so happy to have it back at all that he didn't care if it was somehow weaker than it was when he was younger. His mother's gift was back.

Releasing a shaky sigh, Tsuna blinked one last time, squinting wonderingly at an unfamiliar ceiling. He abruptly remembered the assassination attempt and its following explosion, something snapping and escaping him in a smooth but violent surge to protect, and a guy named Spanner volunteering help. He vaguely recalled Reborn speaking to him before giving to his fatigue, but nothing else. Disapprobation stung his skin as a calloused hand pushed his bangs away to feel his forehead.

"You should be sleeping, piccolino."

"Reborn…" he rasped, surprised by the dryness of his throat, but he carried on anyway. "Are you okay?"

His question earned him a flick on the brow, and he scrunched up his nose. There was a giggle coming from somewhere at his left, behind the hitman.

"That's so like you, Tsunayoshi-kun."

Reborn sent a glare at the owner of the unnerving voice, making no effort to mask his annoyance. Tsuna stiffened in the comfortable bed he was occupying, realizing that they were indeed in a house, and therefore with its owners. He sat up with some difficulty, letting his gaze sweep the room. Spanner, sitting on a backward chair with a lollipop in his mouth, gave him a lazy wave in acknowledgment. Beside him, a red-haired young man smiled awkwardly at him, slightly hunched and looking long-suffering. On another chair was a white-haired man with a smirk, observing him with mischievous eyes, rolling a marshmallow between two fingers.

"Your hospitality is welcome, Don Gesso," Reborn blandly said, his politeness terse enough to be rude. "Not your unnecessary interventions and neither your mind games."

Spanner snorted while the red-haired that Tsuna now recognized as Shōichi groaned quietly. The mentioned Don Gesso pouted at the hitman.

"That's no fun," he whined. "I'm a great friend of Tsunayoshi-kun too! That's so uncalled for."

Tsuna looked at him in incredulity. "I don't know you," he bluntly denied, clearing his throat afterwards.

The man dropped his marshmallow back into a bowl to join its fellows. "That hurts, Tsunayoshi-kun!" He gasped in shock, giving him a mock-hurt look. "I thought that we shared something special! A bond transcending dimensions!"

Tsuna didn't think and reflexively grasped Reborn's twitching fingers, sensing his annoyance sour into irritation.

"Byakuran," Shōichi sighed, exasperated by his antics, sneaking a nervous glance at the hitman. "Can you please behave?"

"That's too much to ask, Shōichi," Spanner drawled, producing a lollipop from his pocket that he handed to his friend who took it reluctantly.

Byakuran completely ignored them, humming as he picked up another sweet, smiling once again. Tsuna couldn't help but think of a mischievous fox and he eyed him warily. He squeezed Reborn's fingers, unsure if it was for his own comfort or to silently ask the hitman to stay calm. While the lurking anger did not abate or disappear, Reborn didn't say anything and merely narrowed his eyes in a vicious glare.

Byakuran suddenly chuckled, adding to the tension. "Looks like you've been dragged into deep troubles once again, Tsunayoshi-kun. A high bounty on the head, hunters and trackers at your heels and your ever so loyal monster of a tutor with you."

"Reborn," Tsuna emphasized the hitman's name, offended and furious on his behalf, "is neither a pet nor a monster. He is a dear friend of mine, free to roam and act as he pleases, and who has, from what I see, showed more heart that you've had."

He narrowed his eyes, as fierce as a forest fire and as intense as an ancient amber, staring down at their host. He only realized that he had stood during his outburst when a hand steadied him on his feet, saving him from a graceless fall that would have ruined the effect of his words. He glanced up, meeting Reborn's unreadable eyes.

"Scary," Byakuran chuckled, popping the sweet into his mouth, and added belatedly, "for a kitten."

A lollipop smacked him on the nose, and he threw a wounded look at Shōichi. His friend huffed indignantly, crossing his arms on his chest.

"It's my friend that you are insulting," he tightly reminded the white-haired menace. "Spanner did not invite them here to subject them to your games. If you're not going to be of any help, I'll kindly ask you to leave the room. You have yet to pack anything, and the plane is certainly not going to wait for you. And neither will we."

"That's not fair, Shō-chan," Byakuran whined. "You know perfectly well that I only want to help Tsunayoshi-kun."

"The Gesso Family has no alliance with Vongola," Reborn looked utterly unaffected by either conversation or behavior, sharp eyes assessing the Don, though his voice was icily chilling. "Nor will you receive any favor or reward by lending assistance."

"As I said, Mister Hitman, I'm only interested in Tsunayoshi-kun, and certainly not in Vongola," Byakuran clarified. "Were he to lead the Family, then I might change my opinion, of course."

"I am not a mafia boss," Tsuna cut in, "not now, not ever."

Byakuran laughed outright at his claim, "sounds familiar!"

"The three of us will be leaving the house tomorrow," Shōichi purposefully kept his eyes on Tsuna, shrinking on himself when he felt a pair of dark eyes fall on him. "Our vacation is finished, so if you need it to rest for a while…"

"We don't have that luxury," Reborn answered instantly. "The police already know about the assassination attempt."

"Then, let us lure them in a merry chase," the Don offered, smiling cunningly. "It will give you the opportunity to purchase whatever tickets you want and disappear with them. I should take care of the payment, obviously. It will save you both time and money, and you'll be assured that your hunters will either lose sight of you or hesitate before interrogating the Don of an influential Family and two civilians under my protection."

"What's the catch?" Tsuna immediately asked.

"In exchange," Byakuran fished another marshmallow, "this all-encompassing Sky that you are, Tsunayoshi-kun, has to be freed from any chains still holding you down." He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "It's a sin to put a seal on someone so bright."

"You seem well-informed, Gesso," Reborn noted, tone undecipherable.

"One of the perks of being a travelling Sky," Byakuran replied cryptically.

Tsuna glanced at Spanner and Shōichi and sighed when he realized that he was the only one out of the loop.

"Okay," he agreed to the offer with a shrug, attracting everyone's attention once again.

He winced at the sharp prickle on his skin, born from Reborn's displeasure. He resisted a flinch when dark eyes narrowed at him but stubbornly stood his ground.

"I know that you don't trust him," he quietly argued, tugging on the hitman's hand when the hold turned painful, "but he's been genuine in his, uh, offer." He grimaced at his own words, aware that Byakuran hadn't done anything to endear Reborn to him – and neither Tsuna to him, admittedly. "Still, he's not – he doesn't want us dead."

Tsuna mentally prayed that Reborn would listen to him, as he had already done when Tsuna would suddenly say or do something weird as nudged by his guts. The distrust tasted bitter on his tongue and the underlying of the spice of his simmering ire wasn't an encouraging sign.

"Fine," Reborn relented curtly. "Gesso, we are… thankful for your assistance. We will depart immediately as we do not wish to be any more of an annoyance."

Tsuna winced again at the hitman's tone. It was clear from his words than Reborn considered Byakuran as the annoyance, and that the sooner the Don was out of his sight, the less likely Reborn was to smite him where he stood.

"Of course," if anything, Byakuran sounded amused. "Spanner, you don't mind me taking your taxi out for a bit, right?"

From Spanner's look, he very much minded. However, he nodded his agreement in a mildly resigned way and threw his car keys to the white-haired fox.

"Shōichi and I will start on leaving fake trails," he announced instead. "It was fun meeting you," he added as an afterthought at both Reborn and Tsuna before leaving the room.

Shōichi, on the other hand, wavered on his spot. He sent a warning glare at Byakuran, apparently enjoining him to behave, and turned to Tsuna with a hesitant smile.

"I," he began, then paused, apparently changing his mind. "We'll do the best we can to cover your traces," he promised solemnly. "Good luck, Tsuna-san."

Byakuran clapped his hands exuberantly, beaming at the duo and ignoring his friend's roll of eyes as he left.

"Now, let's smuggle you all out of there, shall we?"

The ride back to Berlin was one of the most nerve-wrecking experiences that Tsuna had to live through. While Byakuran chatted away and holding without problem a one-sided conversation, neither Reborn or Tsuna said anything. It wasn't that they had nothing to say. On the contrary, Tsuna was brimming with questions, all concerning the odd occurrence at the service station and the nonsensical comments that their driver would willingly let slip. He spoke none of them however, wary of provoking the volcano beside him.

Reborn, sitting cross-legged across from Byakuran, seemed perfectly comfortable. And yet, Tsuna knew – also perfectly – that it was far from the truth. His head was slightly tilted down, a move born from his habit of wearing fedora to shadow his face and hide the intense and unwavering stare of abysses on their poor victim. He was currently wearing no hat, yet, he still managed to look anything but awkward. His arms were also crossed on his chest, his fingers brushing against his holstered guns. His posture was breathing easiness, belying nothing of the alertness and attention that he was paying to his surroundings. That was only the exterior that the hitman let any observer perceive. Tsuna, with his recently-awaken gift, sensed the terrible mood Reborn was in. No one could decipher the seething fury beneath, or the murderous intent gleaming in the darkest shade of his eyes.

It was to the point that Tsuna didn't dare moving an inch from his position on the opposite side, not even when his shoulder started to itch, by fear of attracting Reborn's distaste on him. In fact, Tsuna had plastered himself against the door, ready to throw himself outside at the first sight of an explosion. He knew that the hitman wouldn't murder or incapacitate him, but if the few sessions of training he was put through was any indication, the man was a sadist. Better not to draw any attention. It also meant that Tsuna couldn't try to get a blink of sleep, too tense to try and too frightened to even dare thinking about it.

Unfortunately, it left him alone with his thoughts. When his mind wasn't stuck in a circle of questions over what the hell did I do earlier exactly? or what the hell did Byakuran mean about skies? it turned back to the matter over his ability to read the hitman so well. Tsuna was aware that his gift caught the whispers of the people's moods surrounding him – superficial impressions that frequently fluctuated according to thoughts or events. He should not, however, be able to go any deeper. Especially not with Reborn whom he had known for nearly a month, while it had taken considerably longer with his mother to have the same insight. His mother with whom he shared a bond since he was a little boy. His mother, whom he kept wondering about, hoping that she was safe.

Thankfully, despite being unable to cut the whispers off, Tsuna could decide to only skim over and avoid digging any deeper. Well, in theory.

Tsuna had not expected to find out that the second bond – his soulmate's – was apparently a bond he shared with Reborn!

Ironically, it was this revelation that had shaken him the most. Not the assassination attempt, or the fact that he could – perhaps – invoke fire that didn't burn, but truly the fact that he had been traveling with his soulmate for almost an entire month without realizing it.

Tsuna still couldn't decide if it was embarrassing to have taken so long, or foreboding.

Worst, he didn't know how he should react. After all, it wasn't as if he could walk up to the man and say –

"Hey, Reborn, you know, I have a secret that I've been keeping from you. At first, it was because it didn't matter, considering that it got blocked when I was younger, but it got free when fire burst from me earlier, so, yeah. I can sense emotions from people, cool, huh? And I have bonds with people who let me know their feelings and if they're dead or alive. Guess what? We share one! Because you're my soulmate! Anyway, mind explaining this fire-thingy?"

– yeah, Tsuna could clearly see it go extremely well.

To tell or not to tell, to share or not to share, to trust or not to trust. Mom had never explicitly told him to keep his ability hidden. Especially not when it was bound after the Incident. Yet, Tsuna had always believed that keeping it secret was what he needed to do. He neither wanted to risk shaming and exclusion, nor did he want to be picked apart and dissected as either monster or test subject. Silence was the answer to the question over sharing his talent. Now, faced with the knowledge that he had found his soulmate – his One as Nana would romantically put it – he would inevitably have to choose between telling or not.

Unsurprisingly, Tsuna thought that keeping it a secret was his best – and safest – bet. Apart from sharing the same cinematographic culture, what exactly did they share? Unfortunate circumstances? People trying to kill them? Not exactly the idyllic way to build any kind of relationship, or was it? Speaking of, they might be each other's soulmates, it didn't mean that they were madly in love with each other. Finding out the truth wouldn't encourage spontaneous and genuine feelings of love and care for each other. If it was truly the case, Tsuna should have been enamored ever since Venice. Needless to say, aside from fear and irritation, there had been certainly no intense feelings. It wasn't as if there would be any chance for this kind of feelings to develop either. As soon as Vongola managed to take care of the problem, both Reborn and he would split away to return to their activities – hits and studies, respectively. Most likely, they would never see each other again.

Tsuna exhaled shakily and inaudibly, feeling his chest constrict. He glanced at Reborn and Byakuran, wondering if it was in reaction to their moods. His eyes were caught by the hitman's gaze, and he ceased breathing for a few seconds, suddenly afraid that his ruminations had been guessed. The cocked eyebrow he received for his odd reaction reassured him and he shook his head, averting his eyes quickly.

He wouldn't say anything. They didn't know how long they would have to hide from their enemies, probably for a very good while. Babbling about his ability would only strain their current relationship. It would be terrible for them – a Bad Idea with capital letters.

Besides, it wasn't as if Tsuna had anything to expect to happen even if he were to share the truth. Just another reason to keep silent.

"Here we are," Byakuran suddenly sang, pulling the car in the parking of the airport and stopping it.

"Thanks," Tsuna reflexively responded, snapping out of his thoughts.

"Don't thank me yet," the Don glanced at him, curious about his distraction. "I'm not leaving yet."

"Unfortunately," Reborn deadpanned, leaving the car first.

Tsuna followed, lips twitching at the hitman's dry comment. Outside, he purposefully slid between Byakuran and Reborn as they walked towards the buildings. Despite fearing the hitman's temper, Tsuna was warier of Byakuran's teasing. He therefore walked sufficiently close to Reborn for their arms to frequently brush, and he fought the odd urge to hold hands. Tsuna was not completely surprised by the itch. Reborn could be terrifying when he wanted, and was intimidating when he wasn't trying, but or maybe precisely because of it, Tsuna had never felt the safest but when he was close to the hitman. It sounded weird even to him, but he had already given up understanding why.

As Tsuna found himself stuck between an annoyingly humming white-haired menace and an ominously silent Italian hitman, he wondered how this whole mess would end. Even if Vongola succeeded in tracking down the origins of the hunt, his identity and his link with the Mafia were now known. He rather doubted that he could go back to normal, to before. What were his options now that he was known in this Underworld?

"Worry first about surviving, piccolino," Reborn answered.

Tsuna started, unexpecting to hear any reply to his musings. He glanced at the hitman, a startled expression painted on his face, vaguely wondering if the other was a telepath.

"You're easy to read," Reborn denied, a faint smirk curling his lips.

Tsuna snorted. "Well, I know that I can send you non-verbal messages if the need arises then."

"Doubtful. There's a higher chance that you'll get caught by whoever caused the situation in the first place."

"Woah, thanks for the vote of confidence," he made a face, annoyed.

"Shouldn't you worry first over how you get into such a mess with a supposed bodyguard with you?" Byakuran cut in, an eyebrow tauntingly raised.

Tsuna bristled, turning narrowed eyes on their ally.

"I have absolute faith in Reborn, Byakuran," he retorted, carrying on coldly. "I can't say the same for you, though. You might be helping us now, maybe out of the goodness of your heart, but considering how you've been speaking, I'm inclined to think that you're just after something. I don't know what and I don't care discovering why either. I'm just eager to be out of here – and conveniently, away from you."

Byakuran didn't bat an eyelash at the rather aggressive response, his eyebrow climbing higher. "You don't mince your words, Tsunayoshi-kun."

"Besides," Tsuna went on, scoffing, "only fools believe that everything's always going to be alright or according to plan. We've got the Underworld after us and possibly the Irish police as well, it would be downright stupid to imagine that we won't meet any problems." He gave the Don a pointed look. "Think about your comment, then. What does that make you?"

"People don't see it when they first meet you, huh," Byakuran mused, completely ignoring the rhetorical question, "that you're wearing a cat on your head, all fluffy but quite fierce when provoked. I wasn't wrong with calling you kitten earlier," he concluded with his ever-present smile.

Tsuna huffed, annoyed by the other's composure and blamed his rampant headache for his snapping patience. He gave another glare before turning his head away to blatantly ignore him, glancing back at Reborn. The hitman's smirk was still on his lips, amused by Tsuna's lack of courtesy, not minding that he had basically insulted the ally that had promised to keep their next destination a secret while buying their means to get away.

"Speaking of leaving," Byakuran continued smoothly as they stopped in the middle of a hall, near several signs showing flights, "where was it that you wanted to go?"

"Reykjavík," Reborn glanced at the numerous travelers and members of the airport staff walking around.

Byakuran's surprise was perceptible at the pause he marked before answering, "beautiful place. Not worried about upsetting any sleeping beasts?"

Tsuna rolled his eyes. "If my mere presence could cause eruptions, then surely, Fujisan would have awoken when I was still home." He sent a reproachful glanced at him, "you're going to jinx us with your comments."

Byakuran chuckled and shrugged. "I don't know where you'll be staying, but you should nevertheless check as soon as you land. It would be a shame to be forced to evacuate because of an untimely explosion." He considered the flights, carrying on without pause, "it seems that your flight had been delayed for a few hours, meaning that there is still a chance for you to get two tickets if people had cancelled at the last minute. You don't have luggage with you, that's definitely helpful."

He then went off, intent on getting these precious prizes. Neither Reborn nor Tsuna followed, and they stayed put.

"Still," Tsuna murmured after a few moments of relative silence. "I don't get it. The timing for the BMWs was close. Unlike the Peugeot, they couldn't guess our route. Let's not even speak about the Toyota guys. I don't understand how they managed to find us."

"One logical assumption," Reborn hummed pensively, "would be that they were in contact. The sniper and the driver alerted the others about our appearance, the bike and the direction we were going, namely Dublin. I am rather surprised that they didn't sabotage the Yamaha – an oversight or a miscalculation over their own skills. An amateur mistake, that is."

"Yeah, but finding us so quickly? What, did they know that we would need fuel, or did they plant a tracker on the bike, or something?"

Reborn shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Shouldn't we?" Tsuna sent him a side-way glance. "I mean, knowing how they did, it would only assist us in protecting us against whatever they used, right?"

"I have theories, piccolino, not the truth."

Tsuna sighed, rubbing his temples. "I guess so," he conceded, shutting his eyes. "Will you tell me? About what happened before Spanner showed up."

"Not yet," Reborn watched him frown deeply and rub his forehead. "It is a matter best attended away from prying ears and perceptive eyes."

"Prying ears and perceptive eyes," Tsuna repeated absently as he tilted his head back to gaze through the glass roof, clouds and thoughts drifting. "Say, Reborn, do you sing?"

"Alluringly," Reborn silkily answered, his voice dropping a few octaves.

Tsuna didn't react as he had expected, snarking a retort with a faint blush or giving him a startled look. Instead, he caught the glimpse of sad eyes fixed on a darkening sky, his shoulders slumping.

"So, never for yourself or…" Tsuna trailed off, distress flashing through his features before he smoothed his expression back to a curiously resigned calm. "I guess that there was only one candidate to begin with," he mumbled and tiredly rubbed his eyes.

Before Reborn could comment on his charge's odd behavior, Byakuran literally twirled back to them, flapping the tickets in his hands. With a surprising reactivity for someone who looked despondent mere seconds ago, Tsuna snatched them as soon as the Don was close enough.

"Thanks, Byakuran," his lips twitched into a reflexively polite smile. "It was, uh, interesting to meet you. Now, if you'll excuse us," he added as he caught Reborn's wrist, "we have checkpoints to pass."

Reborn let himself be dragged away, offering one last threatening look at Byakuran.

When they landed in Iceland at nearly ten in the evening, they quickly realized that no, the clothes they had been wearing would ultimately prove to be a tiny bit too light. It wasn't that the temperatures were low – the weather was as mild as it was in Ireland – but the fact that the days would get shorter as September and October stepped aside for November and its admittedly colder nights. They would be staying for winter, therefore they needed to get appropriate clothes. Yet, before thinking about clothes or even food, there was one thing that should be spoken about.

"So," Reborn drawled as they paused in the hall of the airport. "According from your research and calculations, how long will it take us to get there?"

Tsuna didn't bother to look surprised at the hitman's perceptiveness and buried his hands in his pockets instead.

"Less than an hour by plane," he answered dutifully, averting his eyes, "and close to six hours by car."

Watch adjusted, Reborn hummed in acknowledgment. Tsuna glanced back at him, watching him gaze at an information point.

"It's your first time in Iceland?" He ventured a guess.

"An auspicious sign, isn't it?" Reborn confirmed, a half-smirk on his lips.

Tsuna hesitated, softly asking, "does that mean that you only travel because of your job?"

Reborn didn't answer, glancing at him and quirking an eyebrow. Tsuna looked away from these piercing eyes, his fingers twitching in his pockets as he perceived the other closing off at the inquiry. A reflexive reaction, no doubt. It was only after asking his question that Tsuna realized that he had missed the real problem. Instead of asking about his wanderlust, wondering over whether Reborn had a home to return to was more pertinent – and not his business.

Despite being shut off from the bond, he could still easily pick on the fluctuations occurring in Reborn's moods. He thanked his capricious luck that the airport was calm, sparing him from the agitation in Dublin. With all those years cut off from his gift, he had forgotten how invasive foreign emotions were.

"Stay focused," Reborn sharply reminded him, snapping him out of his thoughts. "The night has yet to truly begun for us."

"Right," Tsuna sighed and muffled a yawn. "Wait, do you mean that we're going now? By stealing a car or something?"

"Barging in someone's house uninvited in the middle of the night is not exactly what I call making a good impression," the hitman dryly commented. "Stealing anything would also be careless. Think, piccolino."

"A hotel, then?" He looked at the information point. "The easiest way is to ask, I guess."

"Indeed," Reborn smirked at him and turned around, walking away from the stand and towards a couple waiting nearby.

Tsuna watched him go with slight bewilderment, before realizing that it was most likely a precaution. He stayed where he was, glancing around him. He toyed with the idea of testing his rediscovered gift, tempted to give it a go. He ultimately refrained, remembering when he couldn't control it when he was younger. If he were to be overwhelmed, he would need someone to anchor himself to. His mother wasn't there and Reborn was excluded for obvious reasons. It wouldn't be a good idea. Besides, it was one hell of a long day and they were both tired. They should avoid courting disaster.

"Shinzō."

Tsuna couldn't contain his yawn, hastily covering it up behind a hand. He gave Reborn a sheepish look as he hurried to his side, noticing that the couple had left. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Why did you use the alias?"

"Get used to it," Reborn instructed him, slipping an arm around his shoulders as he steered them towards the exit. "We'll be staying there for a while, after all."

"And that involves socializing?" Tsuna groused.

He half-heartedly batted the hitman's hand away as he ducked the flick on his forehead. He cringed at the look he was given, but stubbornly persisted.

"Well, aren't we supposed to be hiding or something? Wouldn't walking around aimlessly bring attention on us?"

"What is your suggestion then?"

Tsuna grimaced at the intonation, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Huh, maybe trying to not appear frequently?"

"Your solution is to live cloistered up with only one day to take care of shopping and such," Reborn summarized roughly, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. "We'll end up driving each other insane, you're aware? I'm not even brushing the matter of townsfolk finding our secrecy and seclusion suspicious."

"Because being open and overly friendly isn't?" Tsuna asked, sceptical.

"Aren't I supposed to be the one seeing evil all around?" Reborn noted with light amusement. His eyes swept the parking lot, as they left the building, and he continued, back to seriousness. "Being friendly is better than acting too timid. We're posing as Skull's friends invited to his house for winter. Even from our brief meeting, I can tell that he is exuberant to the point of obnoxiousness. The only kind of people I can imagine he befriends are patient, gentle and open-minded. Sticking to ourselves and shying away from mingling would tag us as odd or snob."

"There's nothing wrong with being different," Tsuna mumbled, the remark slipping from his lips with the ease of habit. "I guess I see your point, though," he added louder. "Aiming to be the perfect neighbors, are you?"

"Good neighbors," Reborn corrected. "Don't trust perfection, piccolino. It is merely a mask to hide the ugliest of imperfections."

Tsuna gave him an odd look, biting back the retort dancing on his tongue. He had noticed that the hitman always kept a neat appearance when he could, with no hair out of place and no wrinkles on his suit. It was only recently that he had changed, adopting a more roguish look. If Tsuna were to reflect on Reborn's remark, then it would mean that the hitman saw himself as… what exactly? A multi-flawed person? Ugly, so a monster? If that was the case, would anyone have this big of an ego? Ego as a protection, maybe? A projection of his image, of someone he wished he resembled?

Was he overthinking it?

Tsuna scrunched up his nose. "You're complicated, aren't you?"

"You make little sense yourself," Reborn pointed out, carefully directing them further into the town.

"What?" Tsuna glanced at him, startled. "There's nothing weird about me."

"Why would you think otherwise, then?" Dark eyes flicked to him, catching his deer-in-the-light look. "One might think irrationality or thoughtlessness, but you instantly took it as oddness. Your earlier comment suggested that you frequently defended yourself from people's opinions. Yet, your tone lacked any heat and sounded like a broken record. Without forgetting about your old nickname…"

"Well, everyone has been called weird at least once in their lives," Tsuna argued, narrowing his eyes.

"How many continues believing it when they are no longer children?"

Tsuna flinched. The arm around his shoulders tightened securely, stopping him from pulling away.

"Who said that I believe it?" He retorted, forcing himself to lock eyes with Reborn, knowing that his first reaction was incriminating. "I'm – "

"You're not a freak," Reborn interrupted him, tone final and eyes fierce, forbidding him from looking away and disregarding his words.

Tsuna wrapped his arms around his middle, feeling vulnerable, and looked away. "You sound awfully certain for someone who barely knows me."

Annoyed, Reborn abruptly halted and turned him around. "Listen," he enjoined harshly, cupping and tilting Tsuna's face with contradicting delicateness to force their eyes to meet. "When you're a hitman with my years of experience, you instinctively recognize a gentle soul from a wicked spirit. And you, you have the kindest heart I've ever seen."

Eyes wide, Tsuna was barely aware that he was holding his breath, completely focused on the other. Reborn's expression softened, turning teasing.

"A bleeding heart that has drawn countless troubles, no doubt," he added, ruining the mood.

Tsuna chuckled weakly, embarrassed and touched, tainted with the sadness and guilt chocking him up.

"Yeah," he croaked out, flicking his eyes down to stare unseeingly at the hitman's shoulder, echoing an agreement.

Reborn released him, giving him one last long look. There was no further word or gesture, matter closed. Tsuna was left cold, standing slightly away from Reborn, and oddly bereft.

Belt buckled safely, Tsuna watched the passing scenery without the wonder the magnificent country deserved. It had exactly been a month since he last saw his mother. He remembered her fussing over his pack, checking that he had everything he needed over and over, brimming with excitation and worry. Her smile had been radiant as she cheerfully talked about the joy and chance journeys brought to travelers. How wandering from town to town, countries to countries, shaped people and shifted their opinions on themselves, those they met and the lands they crossed. How misfortunes could befall on careless and unsuspecting wanderers and how, if successful, they matured and gained wisdom.

Adventures taught you about yourself, she would say, times where you learn who you can be. Choices to make and paths to take, chances to give and beauty to find.

The eve of the departure, she took his hand and led him outside. In their pajamas, they sat on the patio of the living-room. The air was tranquil and the breeze agreeable. Knowing him better than he knew himself, she sensed his trepidation and his nervousness, suddenly unsure over the trip and certain that Murphy's Law would strike. She smiled, gentle and warm, ruffling his messy hair to catch his attention.

Remember, Tsu-kun, that if you're lonely, you only need to look up, she whispered with playful secrecy, extending an arm towards the moon. And you will remember that we share the same sky. No matter where you are, sun and stars will carry your heart to me, and bring you mine to you in return.

His head falling against the window, Tsuna narrowed his eyes towards the sky. He watched the cerulean devoid of any streaks of white, shining down on the lands with the glare of a brilliant sun, encompassing the earth fairly and unreachably. Tearing from the luminosity, he looked away and blinked rapidly, chasing away any white spots. His eyes' colors flickered, taking on the dancing shades of a precious amber under the playful light of a burning hearth.

"Cloud, Lightning, Mist, Rain, Storm and Sun," Reborn unexpectedly listed, eyes fixed on the road, "all revolving around one unique Sky."

Tsuna straightened, sensing that he would finally have some answers.

"Purple, Green, Indigo, Blue, Red and Yellow," the hitman continued, "all answering to one rare Orange."

In the window, Tsuna caught the reflection of his eyes – no longer brown, but of a shade he had hardly spotted over the years. His mind instantly dug up the memory of golden eyes.

"A fire burning within your veins, answering to the calls of your resolve," Reborn glanced at him, obsidian meeting amber. "Flames roaring to your will, shattering adversary or protecting kin, echoing your emotions and revealing your core to the naked eye."

His lips quirked up faintly, amused to see Tsuna hanging onto his every word. He looked back at the road, smoothly gearing up. The Murano purred contently, keeping a comfortable pace.

"Dying Will Flames, a secret that the Underworld unanimously agrees on keeping concealed. No one can estimate how the world would react to their existence, so it was acknowledged that Flames shan't ever be shared with outsiders, no matter their status."

Tsuna suppressed the urge to say that he was not mafia, the point completely moot under their circumstances.

"So," he frowned, "at the gas station, neither of us were injured because I used these Flames to protect us?"

"Basically, yes," Reborn allowed the rough summarization. "On the contrary, our pursuers and myself infused our bullets with our Flames to cause as much damage as possible."

"Why so much difference between them?" Tsuna asked, bemused. "Is it really the intent that controls the effects of the Flames?"

"No," Reborn glanced at the rear-view mirror. "The shape of your Flames depends on your will, indeed, but ultimately, the effects rely entirely on the characteristics of your type."

"Characteristics?" Tsuna repeated.

"Each type has an ability." The hitman paused, monitoring the movements of a car behind them. "At the service station, the first rain of bullets was not infused with Flames. The following salve however was coated in different Flames, Lightning to harden the bullets and create sparks, Storm to deteriorate the tanks and Sun to stimulate the explosion and increase its effects. Of course, Cloud's propagation would have been useful to either augment the size of the fire or duplicate it to cover a larger zone."

"There wasn't any who could use them, right?" Tsuna sighed in relief, pushing away the horror of any explosion produced by Cloud Flames. "What about the others?"

"Tranquility for Rain, meaning that these Flames can weaken, numb or pacify a target," Reborn kept right, gesturing for the car following them to pass. "Mist Flames fall under the category of power of illusions, hence their ability as Construction. The most talented can create Real Illusions, though most rely on tricking your mind and disrupting your Flames."

Tsuna silently counted on his fingers, checking. He tilted his head slightly, noticing one absent. "What about Skies?"

"Harmony, a state without contradiction nor flaw, where the balance of every Element is preserved." Reborn glanced at him. "Skies are rare and sought after by almost every Element roaming around."

"Why?" Tsuna bluntly asked.

"A Sky understands and accepts its Elements," Reborn looked away, his voice a tad distant. "Isn't it anyone's wish? To have somewhere to return to, someone who doesn't judge you and welcomes you for who you are."

"Well, yeah, but anyone can do that, no?" Tsuna pointed out. "I mean, can't a Rain be like that as well?"

"No," Reborn curtly replied, sending him an undecipherable look. "I should have expected this remark from you," he sounded exasperated. Before Tsuna could ask why, the hitman carried on. "Know that relationships between Elements are complex, and it usually falls on the Sky to make sure that cohesion reigns."

"You make it sound like a kindergarten teacher keeping peace between unruly kids," Tsuna made a face, thinking how exhausting the task was.

"You wouldn't be far off of the mark. For some cases, anyway."

"Complex relationships, huh." Tsuna mused out loud, looking out of the window. "Well, aren't they all linked to each other? Like, you can't have a storm without lightning, mist without the humidity brought by rain or some clouds…"

His brown crinkled, realizing that the Sun was quite lonely suddenly, and fell silent for a few heartbeats.

"I guess that left the Sun to keep company to the Sky," he concluded, oblivious to Reborn tightening his grip on the wheel. "After all, if there's no sun, there's no light…"

For a split-second, Tsuna clearly felt a spike of intense hunger focused entirely on him. Startled, he snapped his head to look at Reborn, finding him perfectly composed and concentrating on the road, the hunger vanishing. He shivered at the phantom sensation of dark eyes locked on him, wondering if his senses were playing tricks on him. With the abrupt return of his abilities, he might suffer from a lack of control.

Somehow, he couldn't convince himself.

"Cold?" Reborn asked him, noticing him rubbing absently his left arm.

"Huh?" Tsuna started. "No, I'm fine. I'm more likely to melt under this snug cardigan."

"You collapsed as soon as we got to the hotel room, then overslept this morning," Reborn reminded flatly. "The extensive use of your Flames had weakened your metabolism, hence your exhaustion. Getting a cold is the last thing we need."

"Wha – but why?" Tsuna blinked, bemused. "If Flames burn your energy to the point of uselessness, why even using them?"

"Your stamina is pitifully low. With training, you'll be able to handle them."

Tsuna made a face at him. "I'm going to suffer as soon as we settle in the house, aren't I?"

Reborn's lips quirked up. "Thoroughly."

Clearing his throat, Tsuna quickly looked away, feeling his blood rush to his cheeks. He set his gaze firmly on the windshield, focusing instead on why his explanation sounded familiar. It wasn't the first time that Reborn cited an illness. In Pisa, with his foot injured, the hitman had frequently assessed him, speaking of a fever and exhaustion. Had he been using his Flames without noticing?

"Can Flames be used to heal?"

The question slipped past his lips without conscious input.

"Some, yes." Reborn didn't sound surprised, sending him a knowing look. "Suns are typically assigned to speed up recovery due to their ability. Mists can trick mind and body into believing that what is missing, isn't. With enough creativity and dexterity, your Flames can heal you."

Tsuna nodded, filling the blanks on his own. He muffled a yawn, wondering when he would be completely recovered from the stunt in Dublin. Despite sleeping frequently, he still felt sore, though his mind had cleared.

"It will take time," as always, Reborn read his mind. "Your body is not used to the strain and you do not possess any control over your Flames, not yet. We have close to five hours before reaching our destination. You should take a nap."

Tsuna sighed, curling up on himself and against the door, letting his head fall against the window. He shut his eyes, trying to ignore the trepidation bubbling in his stomach.

Finding the house, hours later, proved to be slightly challenging. It wasn't that Húsavik was a big town, with serpentine streets and identical houses. On the contrary, it was nestled neatly near the ocean with colorful boats and multi-colored roofs, quiet. Anyone would think that finding a specific house shouldn't be too complicated. The sun had yet to set, giving off a soft light only hindered by some passing clouds. It had ceased raining and the temperature was cool, not cold. After searching twice, Reborn logically concluded that the house was within the administrative borders but away from the town itself.

"I think that you should go left at the next intersection," a groggy voice suggested, quickly followed by a yawn. "When Skull comes here, it's to be alone, to enjoy the quiet, to, you know, recharge his batteries."

Tsuna massaged his neck with a wince, wishing he could stretch. Squinting through the window, he observed the passing houses.

"It shouldn't be very far," he mumbled. "White and purple, red and blue."

Brows creasing, he heaved a deep sigh and ruffled his hair. He was steadily growing nervous as he glanced at the car clock, displaying the hour. It was fifteen minutes to eight in the evening.

"There it is."

Tsuna looked up at Reborn's flat statement. The Nissan slowed down as they neared two houses facing each other. On the left, he recognized Skull's house instantly with the dominance of purple and the slightly closed shutters. Its garden had developed freely, though not wildly. There was no light and the only noise came from the chirps of nearby birds. On the right, an unmistakable white house with a red roof and blue door and windows stood vigil quietly. Its garden was wilder, and hidden among bushes, he spotted several small wooden houses. It wasn't the first time he saw some of those. He absently wondered what they meant, as they were obviously not randomly popping out of earth like odd mushrooms.

Reborn, being his usual shameless self, smoothly crossed the road to park in front of Skull's house. Tsuna hid his face in his hands, groaning. He had known, of course, that the hitman wouldn't worry about first good impressions and instead, straight-forwardly claimed that they would be staying there with or without their neighbor's approval. Taking a deep breath, he released it with a swoosh and strengthened up. And promptly fell out of the car, as the door opened unexpectedly. Reborn caught him reflexively, arms wrapping around his chest.

"S – sorry," Tsuna apologized sheepishly before yelping in surprise as the hitman all but yanked him outside.

With quick movements, Reborn had him on his feet, standing and shivering when a gust of wind ruffled his hair.

"Ready?" The hitman asked, withdrawing only to present a hand with a smirk, bowing like a gentleman.

Tsuna rolled his eyes, amused despite himself. It was no invitation to twirl at a ball. This dance would be quite different, and he was to be the lead. Drawing strength from Reborn's unwavering confidence, he smiled and grasped the extended hand. Without waiting any longer, the hitman locked the car and pulled him along as they walked and crossed the road to the white house. It was getting colder, and Tsuna was suddenly glad that Reborn had insisted they did some clothes shopping in Reykjavik before coming here. As they entered the garden, noticing the absence of any fence, the curtains of the window directly facing them fell back to place – only sign that they had been spotted. They climbed the four steps of the entrance wooden terrace and paused in front of the blue front door. Closing his eyes, Tsuna reviewed Skull's instructions one last time. His mind drew a blank when he felt a thumb draw circles on his skin. Distracted, he looked at Reborn, a question on the tongue. His words died away when he met a dark confident gaze, assuring composure and mildly chiding for his nerves. He released a sharp sigh, agitated but oddly reassured, and turning his attention back to the door, raised his free hand.

A staccato of short knocks, following a disjointed pattern. Exactly seven of them, no more no less.

The door opened instantly, proving that the owner had been waiting behind and that Tsuna had remembered correctly. A few years ago, the instructions had baffled him with their complexity but as he stood in front of a bear of a man with striking eyes, he found himself glad. He had little doubts that if he followed Skull's words correctly, Reborn and him would finally be allowed to relax for a few months.

For several minutes, neither men spoke, looking each other up and down. Where Reborn was a lithe panther, deadly silent and stealthy prowl, the man in front of them was a powerful bear, intimidatingly towering and impassively observing. When light cyan eyes icily met his own brown orbs, Tsuna almost looked away. He didn't, keeping their gazes locked as he waited, wondering if he should say anything. The decision was taken from him when the man spoke. Unfortunately, it was in Icelandic, and therefore completely incomprehensible for Tsuna – who stared blankly, utterly perplexed. He was tempted to glance at Reborn despite knowing that the hitman didn't know the tongue either. He refrained and instead ventured an answer.

"A daredevil invited me and advised me to speak with the keeper of the skrimsli."

He realized, too late, that he had automatically spoken in Japanese. The man offered no reaction aside from a slow blink. Reborn shifted his weight, his free hand disappearing into his jean's pocket.

"What are you offering?" the man asked in a slightly accented Japanese, still ignoring the hitman.

It suddenly made sense why Skull hadn't specifically told him to avoid his native tongue.

"A story for a supper," Tsuna recited accordingly, "a lullaby for a lover, cheers for cheekiness and tears for truthfulness."

The man's eyes flicked to Reborn in consideration, before returning to him.

"The story will do nicely," he inclined his head amiably. "Who's speaking?"

"Me – I mean, I will speak for the both of us," Tsuna vaguely waved his hand between Reborn and himself. "My name is Tsunayoshi," he mentally winced at the annoyance radiating beside him, obscurely knowing that the man would accept nothing but honesty. "Friends call me Tsuna."

"Elvar," their host offered his name in return.

He glanced at the hitman. Reborn waited for a few seconds, eyes sharp but expression unreadable.

"Reborn," he finally said, his tone poised.

Tsuna glanced between the two men nervously, sensing the distrust and wariness. Elvar was rather reticent to let the hitman in whereas Tsuna inspired him a genuine curiosity. Fidgeting beside them, Tsuna didn't know what to do. He ended up squeezing Reborn's hand, looking at him inquisitively. It broke the stare-down between the two men, the hitman glancing at him while Elvar stepped back with a welcoming gesture.

"Welcome, travelers," Elvar added.

Tsuna thanked him automatically, removing his shoes without prompting. As there was no entryway, the room was divided between the living-room and the kitchen. To his immediate right, he noticed a dark hallway and perceived the shapes of two doors. Elvar had seemingly vanished, leaving his two guests near the door. Tsuna fidgeted, tempted to collapse on a comfy-looking couch near the crackling hearth or even lie down on the woolen rag.

"What are you waiting for, piccolino?" Reborn gave him a shove that passed for gentle for him.

Tsuna almost tripped over his own shoes, sending him a startled look. He shuffled closer to the couch, soft socks sliding soundlessly on the clear parquet. He didn't sit however, eyes attracted to several photos on a wall nearby. One showed a cascade sparkling under a glaring sun, mist shrouding the river, running serpentine between high grasslands. Another was taken when the sun was coloring the sky in warm colors above a very small herd of reindeers, grazing peacefully. A third one was a view of a verdurous canyon, contrasting nicely with the earth-brown and rock-grey of cliffs, some spots brightened by the sun and others shadowed by clouds. There were several others, most taken from a plane or a helicopter.

"Rare sights," Elvar, back from wherever it was he had disappeared to, went to stand beside him. "Doomed to vanish, like the Töfrafoss waterfall," he pointed the first photo. "The Hafrahvammagljúfur's changing shape, disappearing as it has been for centuries, bending to the will of heartless blindness. Agonizing."

Tsuna tasted the foul bitterness of faint disgust on his tongue, nearly overwhelmed by the salty coldness of sadness stinging his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he sincerely sympathized, sharing the melancholy. "It's a beautiful place."

"It was," Elvar agreed, turning away. "Iceland's soul is in his marvels, wild and enchanting. Grímsvötn's been protesting ever since the beginning of the work, but nothing will stop it now," he idly added, calmly crossing over to the only armchair.

Tsuna blinked at the name, slowly following. He was almost certain that it didn't belong to a someone, at least, not to a someone remotely human. Temporarily giving up on understanding, he sank down beside Reborn, their shoulders brushing as he avoided sitting on one the plump cushions. With a tight-lipped smile, he realized that the patient silence that had fallen on them would only be broken by him. He already knew what he would be reciting, polishing it during the flight and rearranging a few details to be more familiar to their host. It was a tale that Tsuna knew very well, shared by his mother several times, passed down from a generation to another. A tale of their origins that no one believed nowadays. Elvar would, he was certain. Reborn wouldn't, most likely. It suited Tsuna fine. He would rather avoid any complications.

Folding his hands on his lap, he took a deep breath and released it calmly. Looking up, he stared at Elvar, comfortably waiting for him, and smiled at his hidden eagerness. Slowly, words and voice escaped his lips as he wove the ancient myth of his family.

"When the emerald forests of old,
And the rainbow meadows prevail,
When sapphire sky wraps the world,
And white billion stars gleam on its veil,

The lands thrum with throbbing chants and songs,
The seas tease golden and milky shores,
Wonder and regard whom belongs
To the rumbling mountain guarding ores.

Coaxing spring and inviting summer,
Daughter of Dew,
Welcoming autumn and soothing winter,
Child of Citrine.

She dances among turquoise and jasper blooms and gems,
Sharing enchanting melodies under hawthorns green,
Within white red rings, honeysuckles and poppies for diadems,
Delicately crafted and humbly gifted to their Queen.

Listening to the mellow voices of teaching elves,
She whirls and twirls with ethereal grace,
Smiling to the fiery passion of mining dwarves,
She offers warm allaying embraces.

Coaxing spring and inviting summer,
Daughter of Dew,
Welcoming autumn and soothing winter,
Child of Citrine."

Tsuna paused, leaning against the plaid-covered back of the couch. He licked his lips, vaguely wondering if he could ask for something to soothe his throat. Unwilling to let go of the rhythm he had found, he quickly carried on.

"On atramentous night, guided by the whispering wind,
On path of petals and leaves, led by harmonious ringing
Resounding across swamps and plains, laughter twinned,
Over the weary wanderer, spirits and heart erring.

Listening to susurrating sighs and following gleaming eyes of wildlife,
He ventures further in enchanted lands, stumbling upon a cheerful round
Hosted by merry folks, bidding him to join the harmony with his fife,
He accedes to their innocuous invitation, lifting the air with high sound.

Carrying tales and sharing memories,
Son of Sunstone,
Roaming the Earth and fading through centuries,
Child of Crepuscule.

Notes rising steadily and sailing over aerial waves,
He seamlessly weaves his sublunary skill into mystical melodies,
Alive with fire foreign to ethereal entities, reflected on his glave
Resting against bark, silent sentinel against known and untold felonies.

The elves' frivolity at odds with the solemnity of jaded vermeil
Contemplating the glee as he follows the lead of fiddles,
He finds his gaze drawn to a smiling fiery-haired fay,
Entranced by maple leaf eyes, shy of amber, concealing riddles.

Carrying tales and sharing memories,
Son of Sunstone,
Roaming the Earth and fading through centuries,
Child of Crepuscule."

Tsuna paused once again, his throat dying for a drink. Elvar got up, padding silently towards the kitchen and pulled a bottle out of the fridge. Taking a glass from a cupboard, he filled it with a dark juice, put the bottle aside and returned. Tsuna cast a glance at Reborn as he accepted the drink with quiet thanks, half-expecting the hitman to object. When Reborn merely quirked an eyebrow, Tsuna wondered if it meant that he was supposed to rely only on his instincts to spot poison or if Elvar was trusted. Banishing the concern, he took a sip. Surprised by the sweetness and grateful for the cool balm on his throat, it took great efforts to prevent himself from downing the glass with greedy gulps. Licking his lips to catch a missed droplet, he kept his refreshing drink firmly in his hands and resumed his tale.

"The first night inflames interest in her gentle grace and his unyielding intensity,
Seeds sown and embers simmering in their hearts, hidden,
Without any word shared, voluble through their own virtuosity,
Expressing their hesitant curiosity, facing the forbidden.

The second night sparks shy tries, violins masking voices murmuring,
Tentative talks under moonlight, stoking subtly candles of amity,
With the complicity of mischievous merry folks, watching and shielding
Them from malign eyes seeking to shatter the burgeoning affinity.

Coaxing spring and inviting summer,
Daughter of Dew,
Welcoming autumn and soothing winter,
Child of Citrine.

The third night settles serenely with the beauty of night blooms
Coloring their confidences with warm hues, eclipsed by
The melodic murmurs of interlaced shimmering brooks
Enclosing them and sheltering their sanctuary under the fair sky.

By the fourth night, their candid care shapes
Their oath to find and dance on another twilight
And another dawn as the mortal unwilling escapes
The merry ring, leaving his fay softly gleaming in the moonlight.

Carrying tales and sharing memories,
Son of Sunstone,
Roaming the Earth and fading through centuries,
Child of Crepuscule."

Swallowing dryly, Tsuna took another sip. He couldn't help but wonder if he was doing any justice to his family tale. He had to adapt the legend to fit better with European folklore, like trading kami for merveilleux creatures. He was no story-teller, and he worried that he was somehow butchering the tale. While neither Reborn or Elvar were bored or cringing, he nevertheless felt horribly self-conscious. Withholding a sigh, he forged on.

"The dyad keeps their promise, finding each other every night
To share dance and songs, words and laughs on the threshold,
Nurturing unfurling buds and igniting lurking sparks into draconian fire,
Erring on the edge, teasing the taboo of merging two divergent worlds.

Each departure summons ice in his core, stirring forgotten loneliness,
Stifling his spirit and disrupting his focus, vulnerable and open to queries,
Each return soothes his stormful soul, bright laughter reviving his liveliness,
Staring into warm eyes, watching lips blooming into smiles, red as cherries.

Coaxing spring and inviting summer,
Daughter of Dew,
Carrying tales and sharing memories,
Son of Sunstone.

Each departure lures snow in her soul, drawing glacial dullness,
Entombing her heart and hollowing her core, faded and revealing,
Each return thaws chilling crystals, fiery intensity chasing darkness,
Relishing in his stalwart presence, listening to his unspoken affection and believing.

Interest turns into infatuation, fascination softens into fondness,
His heart pulsing with a fire foreign to his own, an ardent flame,
Her heart fluttering flowery wings, spreading freely and flawless,
On the spring equinox, fearless and forgetful of their dangerous game.

Welcoming autumn and soothing winter,
Child of Citrine,
Roaming the Earth and fading through centuries,
Child of Crepuscule."

At some point, Tsuna had leaned against Reborn's shoulder, playing absently with his half-full glass. His voice dropped, taking on a lower tone, suiting the shift of the tale. He refrained from clearing his throat, feeling it tickle, taking another sip instead. Closing his eyes, he went on quietly.

"For the fiercest flames and the warmest embrace cede
Before ruthless scorn and tyrannical terror.
Wrenched apart by merciless and heartless creeds,
On a winter solstice, moonless night cloak, their freedom devoured.

A careless hurry to find his merry accomplices and his beloved,
A sun falling asleep, a crimson twilight offering one last omen,
To the ineluctable betrayal stalking his steps, reaching and avid
Unwittingly inviting outsiders into the ring, enchantment broken.

Alas, hunted by silver moon and by scarlet sun,
Fleeing under the guiding starlight,
Alas, hunted from opaline shores to emerald forests,
Following faint murmurs, seeking their stolen fantasy.

Refuge shattered, fairies frozen in flight and elves creating diversion,
For the lovers to elude the evil bent on tearing apart a bond
Neither understood nor accepted, feeding their aversion
Ravaging and pursuing what was true, here and beyond.

Child of Nature and Eternity, she changes shape, becoming butterfly
Tormented and fragile, she flutters and watches on as her heart fights
Viciously and despairingly, glave striking crimson and bright vermeil eye
Rested on her wings, melancholic and grieving, slowly losing his light.

Alas, hunted by silver moon and by scarlet sun,
Cornered on the threshold of the worlds,
Alas, hunted from opaline shores to emerald forests,
Condemned by betraying fear."

Tsuna softened his voice into a sad murmur, aware that he was nearing the end and finding distant amusement at seeing Elvar leaning forward to catch the last part.

"Chained and defeated, he whispers sweet nothings to the wind
Confessions and oaths to his heart, relying on the boundless messenger
For the clock has struck his final hour, offering him a last vision of his winged
Love, knowing that she has flown away, waiting for him beneath a blooming myrrh.

Listening to the ageless harbinger, she hastens away in a flurry of determination,
Roaming her lands in disguise, praying favors from ancient trees,
And sweetly pleading with lilies, enchanter's nightshades and carnations,
To complete the spell for their souls, sustained by the unending seas.

By the encompassing sky and the sleeping mountain,
She sings, voice clear and calling on her will
By the fury of storms and the slumbering sand,
She sings, enticing the worlds to grant her wish.

Frightened fairies fly around her, attempting to warn their friend,
Unheard beneath the purr of her nurtured and awakening lands.
Honeysuckle, flax and cedar answer to her pleas, all blind to the fiends
Approaching wickedly to strike her down where she last stands.

Under the mourning eye of a raven, shaking off its feathers the heavy rain,
Beholding the bounding of two souls torn apart, as the dawn pierces
The nightly cloak, basking her fiery hair into shimmering dew on the plain,
She vanishes, heart ablaze and shape shifted, giving her eluding mortal heart a butterfly kiss.

By honeysuckle and by cedar, our souls are bonded,
Strong and everlasting,
By flax, our souls are fatedly bonded,
Strong and everlasting,

Deaf to their murmurs, my love, sleeping until the awakening day,
Where I will give you a butterfly kiss, drawn by your heart's calling."

Closing his eyes once again, Tsuna sighed, exhausted. Even if he had tweaked with the tale, changing characters and omitting a few secrets – screwing up a few rhymes and the structure in the process – it was still a rather long monologue. He finished his fruit juice, licking his lips to catch any forgotten drops. Neither Reborn nor Elvar had yet to say a word, apparently lost in their thoughts. He didn't know if it was a good sign or not. Unnerved, he automatically checked their emotions. From their host, he picked up contemplation and pensiveness. Beside him, Reborn twitched oddly, almost drawing back. Tsuna sent him a confused glance, aware that something was troubling him, though he had no idea what.

"Thank you," Elvar suddenly spoke up, snapping out of his thoughts. "Will a Plokkfiskur suit your tastes?"

Tsuna nodded, wondering what sort of dish it was but hungry enough to eat anything. Elvar stood up, plucking the empty glass out of his hands to put it on a small table, and went to take out what he would need.

"Fish stew," Reborn clarified, perceptive as ever. "Interesting tale," he offered afterwards, voice unreadable.

Tsuna shrugged, uneasy. "Family tale," he evasively explained. "I'm no story-teller, as you've no doubt noticed. Guess it was good enough."

He moved away when he realized that they were very close to each other, almost cuddling. Embarrassed by his own distracted actions, he looked away to stare at the earlier photos. Reborn crossed his arms on his chest, pensive.

"The real legend is bloodier, isn't it?"

Tsuna glanced back at him, wondering if he should be surprised. "Yes," he admitted quietly, carefully treading.

"What would the initial story be, then?"

He hesitated, then decided that he wasn't risking too much. "The mortal was said to be a warrior who was found courting with a kami. Obviously, it was all too scandalous, and the man was promptly tried for his supposed crime. He was executed before his divine lover succeeded in saving him. In return, she sicced her temple guardians on them by sheer revenge, conducted a secret ritual to bind their souls together in the reincarnation cycle, was consequently stripped of her status for that but nevertheless got admitted into the cycle." And she kept a few of her powers, though only her Empathy was passed down to her descendants as well as the soulmate mess.

Reborn arched an eyebrow, still staring at him and faintly amused. "Are you supposed to be the descendant of a god, then?"

Of course, the hitman would instantly notice one of the most glaring outrageous details of his family's origins. Tsuna could feel his cheeks heat up as he fidgeted, awkward and embarrassed.

"Well, it isn't as if I chose my familial oral traditions," he defended himself, frowning. "At least, it's original. Different from the usual lesson fairy tales tend to give. In short," he added, deadpan, "being nice is overrated and if you plan on doing something society frowns upon, be sneaky and secretive. Oh, and revenge is totally an okay thing to do."

Reborn chuckled, uncrossing his arms and leaning back on the couch more comfortably. "A good preparation for the future," he commented off-handedly.

Tsuna snorted, glancing away. He didn't add that they were other stories shared, pieces of advice about their blood gift and their bond with their unknown soulmate. He stared unseeingly at the floor, reminded of his mother's quiet words when they had first realized that Tsuna's soulmate was very much alive and very much… peculiar. A bad person. That had been, essentially, how Reborn – well, his unknown soulmate – had been perceived. Nana had looked terribly uncertain, wavering over advising him to give him a chance or to look somewhere else. She had been – was still persuaded, actually, that the dark feelings Tsuna had felt that day were a foreboding omen. It wouldn't be the first time that someone in the family would give up on finding their soulmate for x reason. Of course, the fact that they had never been able to truly move on and find happiness with someone else was highly discouraging. Ever since Tsuna sensed Reborn's feelings for the first time, all these years ago, he himself had been debating looking. Their intensity and complexity were frightening, supposing a very harsh life with little kindness, and he hadn't felt ready or even able to help in any way.

Glancing back at Reborn without thinking, Tsuna mulled over the past weeks spent with the hitman. Whether he admitted it or not, he had already started to get close and most likely attached to the other – especially if his passive hostility against Byakuran was any indication. If he wasn't careful, he could end up doing something much worse than liking the man. Falling in love with Reborn, a hitman he would likely never see again once the mess was resolved and who was most likely not interested, would be painful and hopeless. Whatever happened during the following months, Tsuna simply could not afford falling. It didn't matter that they were soulmates or whatever. Ultimately, it was their choice. And Tsuna was certainly not naïve enough to think that everything would end with a Hollywoodian happy ending.

If his family's tale had taught him anything, it was that life was rarely fair and often ended in bitterness.

"Stop worrying," Reborn's voice ordered abruptly, snapping him out of his thoughts, startling him.

"What?" Tsuna very intelligently replied, blinking and meeting unnerving dark eyes.

The hitman tilted his head slightly to the side, appraising him carefully and choosing his words. "Flames, especially newly awoken ones and uncontrolled, tend to react to their owner's moods. You're distressed," Reborn clarified bluntly, "therefore, they're flaring to signal your need for comfort and assistance."

"Flaring? They didn't materialize, though." He looked around, half-expecting to spot orange flames sprouting out of nowhere.

"Flames interaction are mostly intangible." Reborn explained, curling his fingers into fists as he crossed his arms. "An important aspect of intimidation and manipulation passes through Flames communication. I'll teach you once you have a better grasp on them."

Tsuna stared at him, sensing that there was something else. "They're not just flaring, are they?"

"No," Reborn confirmed, and from his mood, Tsuna guessed that it was not something the hitman would want to talk about, at least not right now.

Instead of pressing, he looked away. His gaze wandered over to Elvar, watching him stir. He realized quickly that their host had already been cooking when they had unexpectedly showed up. Tsuna wondered if the man had somehow known that he would have guests – and therefore got everything he needed – or if Elvar was used to buy a lot of groceries to avoid too many trips. With the preparations already half-way done, they didn't have to wait very long. Helping out by setting up the table, they were all soon sitting around the table, stew hot in front of them with bread, the previous bottle of sweet juice and a bottle of Black Death liquor. Wisely, Tsuna was determined to stay very clear of the alcoholic beverage.

"Your journey is leading you away from your bearings," Elvar commented idly at some point, cutting through the small talk. "Change should not frighten. Rediscovering what was lost will only free you, Seekers."

Tsuna paused mid-movement, a piece of potato half-way. He glanced at Reborn who was looking unaffected, finishing unflinchingly his drink. It was however not the case, as their host had directed their words to them both. Tsuna had no idea how the man was so knowledgeable, but he had already decided that almost nothing would surprise him from Elvar.

"I… see," Tsuna slowly responded. "As perceptive as an owl," he remarked, struggling to find something un-defensive to say.

"Thank you, though I do not claim possessing their wisdom," Elvar humbly replied. "You are welcome to stay the night here," he carried on, switching subjects with absolutely no warning or logic. "Skull's house has been sleeping for a few years. It will be easier to wake everything up tomorrow morning."

Tsuna looked at Reborn, unwilling to take any decision, and put his hovering piece of potato into his mouth for good measure, evading giving an answer. He was certain that the hitman would have rolled his eyes at him if he didn't deign it beneath him.

"We'll follow your advice, Elvar," Reborn replied, sounding very sober for someone who had been steadily emptying a Black Death bottle with only one accomplice. "Putting off our stay for another night is completely fine."

Tsuna blinked, wondering if the words were supposed to be sarcastic. The tone wasn't, but then again, it was Reborn.

"Very well," Elvar wasn't offended, apparently taking the agreement as genuine. "I'll prepare your room."

He left the room, disappearing into the dark corridor. Tsuna finished his stew quietly, squinting at the bottle in front of him. With a start, he realized that the Brennivín had quite a high percent proof, reaching forty. That was not supposed to be drunk in water glasses, during a rather ordinary meal.

"A test?" He ventured out loud and glanced at Reborn to find the hitman staring at him, face as unreadable as ever.

"Perhaps," Reborn silkily murmured, and Tsuna abruptly wondered how resistant he was to alcohol. "Or merely a friendly teasing."

Tsuna eyed him warily. "On a one-to-ten scale, with one being stone-cold sober, how high are you?"

Reborn chuckled. "Won't you take a shot?"

Tsuna blinked at the pun, intentional or not. The hitman was not slurring his words, and aside from a slight shift of his behavior, there was nothing different. His emotions, on the other end, were constantly fluctuating, unwilling to stabilize on one in specific.

"Six?" He hazarded, watching the other carefully.

"Close," Reborn answered, a lazy smirk stretching his lips.

Tsuna averted his eyes, nervous. He abruptly stood up, collecting bowls, cutlery and glasses and retreated to the kitchen, acutely aware of the dark eyes following him. He didn't know how to react, automatically falling back into doing something familiar and usual. He marginally tensed when Reborn prowled closer, snatching a dishcloth to wipe whatever dish Tsuna was washing. If it wasn't a six, it was a seven, and it was already too high for him. They worked efficiently and quietly, piling the tableware on a nearby cleaned countertop. As Reborn hung the cloth on its towel rail, Elvar stepped back to the room and gestured at them to follow him.

"The bathroom's there," he indicated, pointing at the door on the other end of the lit corridor, "and your room is here," he added, waving at the opened door in front of them. "If you need anything, I'll be at your left."

Tsuna thanked him, wondered if he could ask to take a shower and decided against it seconds after. Instead, he disappeared to the toilet, praying that the hitman would be asleep or something when he came back.

When he returned to their room, plunged into darkness, he found Reborn leaning beside the window, shutters open. The lack of street lights was a blessing, offering an unobstructed view to the quiet garden, softly basking into an almost full moon light. Tsuna paid the sight no mind, softly closing the door behind him, watching the hitman carefully. He walked soundlessly towards the bed, wincing when his hip caught the corner of furniture, and almost fell when his knees bumped against the edge of the bed. He probably looked more like a drunk than his companion, despite being sober.

"Earlier, you didn't seem to understand."

Tsuna started when Reborn spoke. Tilting his head, he sat down, crossing his legs and laced his fingers together, hands resting on his lap. He tried to guess what was referenced.

"About the flaring?" He ventured, unsure.

Reborn didn't move, gaze still averted to the outside. "No," he replied, voice low.

Tsuna frowned. "Then what? Is it about something Elvar said?"

He reflexively flinched when the mood soured abruptly. He stared, bewildered, at the hitman, wondering what on earth had set the other off. Fluidly, Reborn strengthened up. With silent steps and an intimidating intenseness, his gait a distinct prowl, he approached a tensing Tsuna. He only stopped when he was standing right in front of Tsuna, forcing him to throw his head back to catch his eyes. Tsuna resisted leaning away when long fingers reached for his chin, catching it firmly. Even in the dark, he could feel the pair of obsidian eyes staring straight at him, completely focused.

"You're a Sky," Reborn murmured, voice caressing his skin silkily. "A powerful, alluring, young and inexperienced Sky."

Tsuna stilled, holding his breath as the hitman leaned down.

"Furthermore, your Flames have been teasing and luring mine ever since we've met," a faint smirk curled his lips, amused and something else, "with you being utterly oblivious to their little game."

"O – oh," Tsuna stuttered out, weakly. "It's, huh, it's a bad thing?"

He shivered when Reborn chuckled huskily at the question, feeling his heartbeat speed up. Wildly, he wondered if the hitman could hear it.

"It could be," Reborn replied, and his other hand pressed down on the bed, supporting him and bringing them closer. "The consequences would be – "he paused, looking for the correct word. "Irreversible."

"And," Tsuna frantically clung to the discussion, "uh," he tried to think, finding it extremely difficult with Reborn so close to him suddenly, "what – why are my Flames doing that?"

"Courting," Reborn didn't seem able to miss an opportunity to teach him anything important, though he did not move away or raise his voice to a level less intimate. "A Sky attracts Elements. The more powerful a Sky is, the higher the need to own Elements is important. Without them, there is no stabilization and no sense of belonging."

"So," Tsuna tried to retreat but found that he was trapped, the hold on his chin unrelenting. "Since you are a," a memory of golden eyes flashed through his mind, "a Sun, I've been, uh, courting you?"

"An unclaimed powerful Sun like me," Reborn's voice turned cocky, "is a rare catch."

"What does it mean exactly?" Tsuna whispered, suspecting that this courting was something much more important than the hitman was letting sound.

"It means," fingers released his chin, traced his cheeks and curled around his nape, voice dropping into an enticing murmur, "that I would be your Sun and you would be my Sky, mine to protect, mine to heal, mine to free and mine to cherish."

Eyes wide, breath and brain coming to a halt, Tsuna stared at him, speechless and overwhelmed. Reborn's following words turned into a pleased purr, wrapping around him.

"You would be mine, Tsuna, as I would be yours."

"I," Tsuna rasped, his throat dry and chest burning, "I – that sounds like a marriage vow," he weakly joked.

"Bonding Flames are much more binding than pretty words, cuore mio."

Tsuna shivered at the endearment, whispered in his ear, and a persistent little voice in the back of his mind was insisting that they really should stop, now. It probably was right, and he tried to move, managing a twitch of fingers. He felt distinctly light-headed, as if he had been the one drinking, thoughts spinning. Any other time, his own reaction would have worried him. As it was, the hand that Reborn had kept on his neck, teasing playfully his brown locks, was soothing instead of caging. The whiff of gunpowder and cocoa, though tainted by lingering liquor, that he caught was relaxing, easing his stiff posture.

Tsuna should be worried, as he had never been comfortable with anyone encroaching his vital space, but the sense of safety and protection was strong enough that it was turning him near boneless.

Still, he forced himself to raise a shaky hand, grasping Reborn's shirt. He didn't really know what was going on and was not in control, the hitman probably wasn't either if his sudden absence of any kind of inhibitions was any sign.

"Reborn," he breathed out and tried to raise his voice higher than a murmur. "You're drunk," he stated bluntly.

Reborn stilled, completely freezing where he half-stood half-leaned. Tsuna took advantage of the pause to plough on, daring to bury his other hand in ebony locks, giving a very loose sort-of hug.

"You're drunk," he repeated, doing his best to keep his voice even, "and this, whatever this is exactly, is really important. I think that we should talk about it when we're both, well, cognizant enough to understand and accept the implications and consequences." A thought struck him, and he suddenly panicked, "I'm not saying no or, or rejecting you, or something like that! It's – it's just – "

A hand covered his mouth, cutting him off completely. Tsuna realized belatedly that he had been released, looking at Reborn who was withdrawing, stitching his composure back.

"It is important, yes," the hitman agreed, his mood shifting again into something else, much more solemn. "We'll talk about it later, when I'm less likely to scare you away."

Taking a step back, Reborn closed his eyes briefly. Tsuna didn't know exactly what the hitman had done, but the room distinctly felt colder. He automatically uncrossed his legs, curled slightly on himself and wrapped his arms around his knees. He caught a flash of something in Reborn's countenance – protectiveness? – before the man gave him a pointed look.

"Sleep, piccolino, nothing will harm you there."

Tsuna frowned at the unspoken neither will I, finding it troubling. He had no time to say anything, Reborn striding away, leaving the room, apparently intent on sleeping on the couch. Tsuna sighed, shoulders slumping, and obeyed slowly the order.

It was only as unconsciousness pulled on his mind that he realized that it was only the second time Reborn had used his real name.

It was the soft light of dawn that woke him up a few hours later, pulling him out of a restless sleep. He felt as rested as if he had skipped the entire night to dive into the next day without break. He didn't know exactly why he hadn't managed to get a wink of restful sleep, though he was starting to suspect that his Flames were much more active than he had first thought. He squinted at his watch, realized that the date was off and remembered that the hour was as well. He wondered if he should get up.

Usually, Reborn tended to wake up extremely early, yet, with the hangover the hitman was no doubt nursing, Tsuna didn't want to try his luck in the living-room. He would rather not get shot before breakfast. Still, it wasn't as if he could do anything useful by lingering in the bed. If anything, he would succeed in freaking himself out by thinking too much over, well, over anything really. Last night being a good point to start with.

Tsuna kicked the covers away from him, sitting up. He muffled a yawn, ruffling his messy hair tiredly. He groaned quietly, hiding his face in his hands. Last night was just another pink elephant he would rather avoid dealing with, frankly. Thinking about it was enough for his cheeks to redden unhealthily. Nothing had truly happened. Granted, they were close to each other, murmuring something that resembled pledges, focused on each other while forgetting completely the world around them, and if Tsuna had not managed to snap out of whatever enthrallment Reborn had put him under, who knew what could have happened?

Tsuna squeaked to himself, unable to stop himself from reacting. Put as so, it sounded somehow worse than it really was. How was he even supposed to face the hitman? While he half-hoped that Reborn would choose the easy way out and fake amnesia or altogether blatantly lying that he didn't remember anything, Tsuna knew better. Reborn had spoken truthfully, after all, when he had admitted that Tsuna had been – unknowingly – courting the hitman as, well, an Element to bond with, for weeks. Even through the haze that had taken over him, he had realized that it was no trivial matter. It was to be addressed, no matter how much Tsuna cringed from it. Sighing, he rubbed his face and clasped his hands behind his neck, his elbows brushing his knees.

He didn't know what to do. His face twisted into a bitter smile, finding that it was an issue he often faced these times. Even without knowledge about any Flames business, it didn't take a high IQ to deduce that Bonding Flames was the equivalent of a partnership, marriage or some other vow. It was not something that could be broken off easily. Were he to agree, it would mean that he would stay in touch with Reborn. That, in itself, Tsuna had no problem with. Aside from the hitman being his soulmate, he genuinely liked the man. Who wouldn't? Ignoring his moments of sadism and cynicism, he was smart, sharing the same type of humor and curious. Tsuna would never get bored being with him. No, the issue revolved around the Mafia.

If Tsuna became Reborn's Sky, then it was highly likely that he would be pulled into the Underworld. His objective, ever since the whole mess began, was to escape it. Ideally with his mother, safe and sound. Tsuna had no wish to get drag into any Family arguments. Vanishing from the Mafia sight would suit him just fine. Yet.

Yet. He was starting to believe that he would never truly manage to return to his more peaceful life. Bonding with Reborn would only cement this realization. Therefore, Tsuna was reluctant to commit to anything. There was still a part of himself that was in denial, no matter how improbable getting out of this Mafia mess was.

He didn't even know if he was going to survive for Next Year's Eve, even less for whatever college exams he had planned to take. He didn't feel ready to take any kind of life-changing decisions, either. Then again, whoever was?

"It's too early for this," Tsuna decided finally, sparing a vague glance at the barely raising sun.

He got out of the bed to open slightly the window, letting air swirl into the room. He snatched his cardigan on his way to the door, putting it on. He pocked his head out to the corridor, hearing quiet noise in the living-room. Taking it as a sign that at least one person was up and about, he nevertheless carefully closed the door behind him and discreetly made his way towards the activity. He found Reborn nursing a very strong cup of black coffee, clutching it tightly, while Elvar was putting breakfast together.

"Er," Tsuna glanced nervously at Reborn, gauging his mood. "Good morning?"

"Good morning, elfling," Elvar cheerfully greeted back, sliding a plate of dry omelet to the hitman without looking. "The dawn's shining with a pleasant color, a good omen."

The look on Reborn's face was ominously blank. Tsuna shuffled closer with no small amount of trepidation, taking the chair in front of him. He averted his eyes when the hitman made no movement to acknowledge anyone in the room. The tension was thick enough to cut his appetite but Elvar paid it no mind, oblivious or deliberately ignoring it, and carried on. He put a bowl of oatmeal – or hafragrautur, as their host called it – with raisins in front of his young guest, adding a plate of the bread left from the night with crowberry jam and something white that looked a curious mix of a yoghurt and a cheese named skyr. Tsuna pretended he didn't see the cod-liver oil and preferred to finish the fruit juice he had started on last evening. He managed to throw genuine thanks, breaking through Elvar odd small talk who barely paused long enough to wave his words away.

Tsuna didn't know if he was impressed or that short of horrified when Elvar drew him into participating to the one-way conversation, blatantly blind to the heavy cloud slowly finishing the pot of coffee. He still listened and offered answers that were not monosyllabic, realizing that Elvar was giving them advice and tips about living in Iceland.

"If you have wish of anything, feel free to come over," Elvar was saying, polishing his own meal off. "I know a few tricks on how to take care of pests, or how to season divinely a salmon."

Tsuna just chuckled, no longer surprised that the man seemed to know. "We will, thanks."

Elvar gathered the empty bowls and plates, amused when Tsuna's hastily swiped the remaining toast. He inadvertently smeared jam on his thumb as he did so. Without thinking, he licked it clear and hummed at the bittersweet taste of the berry, biting into the bread. He glanced up when he felt a stare burning on his skin and froze when he met Reborn's dark eyes, watching him attentively. The intense focus reminded him of last night. He couldn't help the blush that instantly crept on his cheeks, involuntarily tearing away a piece of his bread. Unable to look away, he saw a smirk languorously stretched Reborn's lips, mischief and smugness lightning his obsidian eyes. Tsuna almost choked on his bite, convulsively swallowing and covered his mouth with a hand, stifling any possible cough. He sent a miffed glare at the hitman, catching any crumbs with his tongue.

Mood lifting, Reborn chuckled and finished his coffee.

"Not yet," he quirked an eyebrow, meaningful.

Tsuna automatically translated it into a when we're alone and nodded. He tilted his head, thinking that the hitman looked neither exhausted or terrible, but there was a distinct air of something sagging somehow.

"Are you okay?" Tsuna asked quietly, lowering his voice and leaning forward, wondering if it was a hangover.

"Fine," Reborn answered curtly, evidently not going to admit to anything wrong. "Better than you, in any case."

"I didn't sleep well," he acknowledged with a grimace. "I don't know why, though."

"Yes, you do," Reborn contradicted him flatly. At Tsuna's troubled look, he added, "you're in denial."

They dropped the conversation when Elvar stepped back to the table, gathering the last dirty dishes to bring them to the sink. He didn't wash them, instead turning back to them. He leaned back against the counter.

"It would be better to give a few hours to the house to awaken with Tsuna's care," Elvar commented idly, "while I give you a tour of some markets you will need to visit, Reborn."

Tsuna was momentarily amused when he found it weird to hear their names coming from their host's lips instead of nicknames. Glancing at the hitman, he nodded his agreement when Reborn didn't protest the suggestion. They quickly left, crossing the road to get to Skull's house and the Murano. Taking their bags out of the car, Tsuna followed obediently Elvar into the house, listening to his instructions to get electricity and water running. Reborn kept the engine turning, waiting for their neighbor to come back. They drove off not long afterwards, letting Tsuna alone into the too-quiet house who realized that, with the past month spent on the road with Reborn, it was almost painful to be on its own.

He also should have realized that it meant more than what he thought.

It took Tsuna a shared lunch with Elvar in Skull's house, made by his hands and by following instructions from a worn and decolored recipe book, and several hours spent with Reborn on a (rather) mild training to understand something very important. When Reborn had said 'not yet', Tsuna had taken it as 'later, when alone' whereas he should have got it as 'when you're ready'. Whatever happened that night, the hitman had decided that Tsuna should be the one to think over and ultimately, bring the subject up.

Needless to say, Tsuna didn't.

As Reborn put it, he was still in denial, lost about what he should do and what he wanted to do.

Contrary to what anyone would have expected, living with Reborn was surprisingly easy. If one excluded his inhumane training, of course. There were no constraining rules to follow blindly, no unshared chores and no imprisonment. If anything, they were surprisingly domestic. They ate together, hung around as a couple to strike idle conversations with acquaintances, invited regularly Elvar over and bargained at the markets. They acted as respectful tourists between sessions of training – or when Tsuna started to plot surprisingly successful schemes to knock Reborn out to get some rest himself

(one memorable time, Reborn caught Tsuna staring at him speculatively after dinner. Alarm bells went off in his mind when the supposedly nice Sky had smiled sweetly up at him, innocently asking him if the fish stew was any good, considering the few alterations he had done. Reborn only realized that he had been tricked when the effects of linden, valerian and Sky Flames violently teamed up to knock him unconscious where he sat.

Upon waking, surprisingly well-rested, Reborn wavered over being impressed with the deadly combination of herbs and Sky Flames or tremendously annoyed that Tsuna had the nerve to drug him and for him to succumb to the plot. He still didn't know how the little Sky had managed to mask the taste and smell of the herbs, or even find them without him knowing in the first place. He had the sneaking suspicion that Elvar was involved.

He settled for plotting payback with no small degree of delighted sadism.)

– and stayed out of sight of anything that could fall into the category of 'problem'. They spent nearly all of their time together with minimal arguments, usually agreeing on ignoring the other when they sensed that the tension might set them off. It was bizarre but soothing, and Tsuna found that this routine of theirs was working wonders at relaxing his thoughts. Unfortunately, he soon learned that Reborn's worst enemy was not assassins or regular seismic tremors, but boredom.

The revelation wasn't one, in fact. Since long used to perceive Reborn's feelings – and corresponding moods – through their soulmate bonds, Tsuna already knew that the hitman easily grew bored. He merely had no idea how quickly and how disastrous it was. When he caught Reborn eyeing his gun – and he still wondered how the hitman managed to get them on the island – with a very disturbing glint, Tsuna knew that it was time to do something. An epiphany that quickly turned into a habit for him to wreck his brains to find new ways to keep Reborn entertained – and the irony had yet to cease to be amusing.

Sometimes, Tsuna reflected as he stared at the beer in his hands – vaguely wondering if he was truly going to taste it – he wondered how his life changed so drastically. A few months ago, he was struggling with his studies, vaguely thinking that if he managed to get a university with a focus on Literature or Social Sciences, he wouldn't complain, though it was most likely that he would end up looking for work. Now, as he unseeingly watched their friendly acquaintances laughing heartily at whatever joke he missed, his priorities had clearly shifted, focusing on living with a hitman in a foreign country without traumatizing their neighbors or his own mind. His worries over college seemed to belong to another life.

"You're sulking."

"Am not," Tsuna reflexively denied, glancing at Reborn, sat beside him. "I'm debating."

Dark eyes flicked to the beer, then back to him. "Should I pretend you didn't blatantly lie to me?" He mused mockingly.

"Shouldn't you enjoy this impromptu party our new friends threw for your birthday?" Tsuna instantly countered.

"I would," Reborn gave him a sly look, "if my darling wasn't brooding on his chair, despite the delicious food and the divinely charming company."

Tsuna snorted, amused. "I'll behave," he promised with fake solemnity. "I wouldn't want to spoil the evening," he teased, half-serious.

"It is also your evening, piccolino," the hitman reminded him. "Aren't you turning twenty in a few hours?"

"Subtract two, and you might find the correct number," Tsuna dryly commented. "I'm not supposed to drink that, you know," he added with a pointed look at his beer.

"In most countries, Iceland included, you come of age at eighteen," Reborn leaned back on his chair, elegantly shrugging. "Of course, I will not force you to drink anything you don't want. Either take the opportunity to taste it – I heard this one is rather sweet and low on percentage – or stick to fruit juice and water."

Tsuna huffed and looked away, his fingers absently picking up his fork to twirl it. He looked blankly at a waiter coming over to their large table, apparently interested in taking their order. He was saved from having to say anything by their merry companions, taking care of giving them the most delicious dish of the restaurant.

"Wait," he realized, glancing at the glass of water in front of Reborn. "Why aren't you drinking?"

"I'm the driver, remember?" Reborn quirked an eyebrow, looking almost condescending. "I tend to avoid mixing alcohol and car, especially when I have to look after a trouble magnet like yourself."

"Not my fault," Tsuna automatically protested, understanding that it meant that the hitman would rather keep a clear head just in case.

Reborn didn't deign giving an answer, instead letting one of their new friends draw him into conversation. In Icelandic. Tsuna didn't even try to follow, giving it up as a bad job, content to merely be amazed that the hitman was apparently also a genius at picking up languages. He idly wondered how many languages Reborn knew. Then, he abruptly wondered if the man had learned them because he wanted to or if it was for his job. The idea that Reborn had never done anything for his own pleasure, leisurely or just by curiosity, made him sick. He was struck by the sudden urge to grab the hitman's arm and asked him if there was anything that he wanted to do, to see or to have. His fingers twitched, and the fork twirled faster.

Ironically, the only thing that came to his mind was the unresolved conversation they shared a month ago. Ruminating it over and over, on his own, had brought no satisfying results. He was still doubting horribly, and he was getting sick of it. It was also unfair for Reborn to leave him waiting without an answer. They would need to talk, it was useless to continue beating around the bush. Still, right now didn't seem an opportune time. Not only was it something that should be discussed in private, Tsuna was quite certain that it would ruin the joyous mood. He nodded to himself, resolved to bring it up the following day.

He started when a hand wrapped around his own, stilling his movements. Reborn leaned forward, dark eyes assessing him, and carefully took the fork out of his fidgeting grasp.

"Easy, piccolino, before you unluckily blind someone's eye," he soothed, dark eyes gleaming with the faintest amusement.

"I need to talk to you," Tsuna blurted out, inwardly wincing at his bluntness, and added hastily, "but not right now, obviously. Later."

Reborn put the fork down, any levity vanishing from his gaze. "You've been thinking too much, again."

Tsuna deliberately ignored the remark. "It's important, but…" He trailed off, pointedly glancing around.

"No one speaks Japanese here," Reborn reminded him in a dry tone, refusing to let the matter drop. "Spit it out."

"I – what did you mean when you offered – asked me to be your Sky?" Tsuna stumbled on his words, detachedly noting how lost his voice sounded and forcing himself to keep their eyes locked. "You never did explain…" he finished weakly, unthinkingly curling a bit on himself in apprehension.

He watched as Reborn's expression completely blanked, save for his eyes who stormed with flashing emotions. Anxiously, he stopped himself from checking the hitman's mood or any of his superficial feelings, instead bracing himself for whatever reaction his ill-timed question would provoke.

"You've been torturing yourself with this, haven't you?" Reborn rhetorically asked, tone poised.

He tilted his head down for a few seconds, reflecting on his next move. Decision taken, he caught the shoulder of his neighbor, quietly saying something in Icelandic. Barely waiting for an answer, he grasped Tsuna's wrist, fingers wrapping around the bracelet, and pulled him on his feet. Nimbly, they made their way out of the restaurant. Slightly bemused but mostly apprehensive, Tsuna followed in silence, watching attentively the hitman. They didn't go very far, standing in front of the building but away from any possible smoker wishing to go out.

The night had already fallen, chilly and cloudy. The lights outside of the restaurant barely reached their spot. Darkness cloaked their forms, and Tsuna – not for the first time – found that Reborn's gleaming eyes looked like sentient abysses staring ravenously at him. It was simultaneously intimidating, thrilling and enticing. Unfathomable abysses drawing you closer in the night, the day split between sharp obsidian and gleaming onyx.

And Tsuna really needed to focus, not get lost in dark and mysterious eyes.

With a sigh, Reborn buried his hands in his jean pockets and tilted his head up. He watched the sky unseeingly, thinking over his words one last time. Squaring his shoulders, he flicked his gaze back to Tsuna's, his lips twitching into a smirk at the obvious nervousness. Unexpectedly, it wasn't him who broke the silence first. It was Tsuna, oddly determined and awkwardly attentive.

"I remember what you said about Skies attracting Elements to – to belong," he fumbled slightly with his words, unable to stop himself from waving a hand in a vaguely encompassing gesture. "I understand that. Why Storms and Rains and Clouds and Skies and well, everyone basically turned around each other, trying to find a perfect match. But," he paused, embarrassment briefly holding him back, before he grasped his courage and blurted out, "I don't understand why you would want that with, well, with me."

He almost took a step back at the fury surging in Reborn's eyes, flashing a deadly gold, even as the temperature significantly warmed up. He didn't though, relaxing at the irrepressible feeling of safety that the hitman always summoned in him. He knew that he had nothing to fear from Reborn's murderous temper, even if it was still frightening to witness. Then, as abruptly as the rage appeared, it cooled down. It hadn't vanished, Tsuna could clearly see it lurking.

"That should be my line," Reborn unexpectedly and plainly responded, voice dark with untold experiences. "I may be one of the most powerful Suns roaming the lands, but I am not, by far, the warmest."

"That's not true!" Tsuna protested, frowning, genuinely upset. "You've been nothing but kind and thoughtful with me, protective and sweet when I needed it the most. It doesn't matter if you have sadistic tendencies, or whatever, because I know that it's not because you're mean, but because you care." He crossed his arms on his chest with an affronted huff. "No matter what you say, Reborn, you're not a monster. I will repeat it until my last breath if it's what it takes for you to believe me!"

Tsuna felt his heart stop at Reborn's expression. It was impossibly fond, dark eyes softening and lips faintly touched with the sincerest smile he had ever seen. Long fingers caressed his cheek delicately, weaving carefully into his messy hair to loosely grasp his neck.

"That," Reborn whispered, "these very words are the exact reason why I wouldn't choose anyone but you."

Tsuna widened his eyes like a startled deer, taken aback. He didn't know what to say, surprised that what he thought was obvious and not quite normal but rather stood to reason, was what had attracted Reborn. For Tsuna, he had merely been speaking the truth, trying to understand why – beyond the fact that he was a harbinger of Death due to his job – Reborn could be both incredibly and arrogantly confident and contradictorily self-loathing, carrying around a peculiar and very likely unflattering image of himself. It made little sense for Tsuna, and it bothered him immensely, it upset him, and he wanted to do something to make it all better.

"I don't make mistakes," Reborn claimed, his other hand falling on Tsuna's hip to draw him closer. "I wouldn't pursue anyone that I deem beneath me, shallow and utterly boring. You did not forget, did you, what I told you when we first landed in this country?"

Tsuna stopped himself from looking away, mildly embarrassed, and lightly cleared his throat. "No," he admitted quietly. "I didn't forget."

"Then, believe it," Reborn half-ordered half-requested. "I don't want a Sky. I want you," his lips twitched when Tsuna's cheeks instantly colored. "I want you," he repeated, deliberately accentuating the pronoun, "to be mine. And I, yours," he paused for a heartbeat, finishing softly and straightforwardly, "Flames, mind and heart."

"Wh – what?" Tsuna squeaked, breath faltering, astonishment grasping his throat. "You mean – as in – more?"

Reborn chuckled, amused and knowing. "You could say, making our act more genuine." His levity vanished abruptly, his hand squeezing his hip gently. "I don't expect anything, Tsuna. It is ultimately your choice, and nothing will change if you say no – to both of my… requests."

Neck released, his hand trailed back to cup his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. Tsuna didn't say anything, shock rendering him silent. He bit his lip, mind swirling with lightnings of multiple emotions, asking himself how on earth could he have missed something so important. He was half-afraid to check the bond, obscurely fearing that it was somehow a sick joke. Yet, his – what Reborn had told him was a Hyper Intuition, inherited from his Italian ancestor – was whispering sibilant encouragements, no icy warnings. It was the truth, then.

And Tsuna didn't know what to do.

He had spent the last month convincing himself that he shouldn't expect anything, that it was only temporary this arrangement between them, that there was no further meaning to read, that he would have to go back to his mother, away from Reborn. That it wasn't worth the heartache nor the broken heart, and that it was nice to have met his soulmate, finding that in the end, Reborn was not the terrible person he had thought he was bonded with. That it was okay to not try anything, that it was better this way, that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay as friendly acquaintances or familiar strangers if they were even to meet again, no matter how unlikely it was.

Yet. Yet, Tsuna didn't want that. He wanted to say yes, of course he was ready for a sincere relationship, or at least to try. He wanted to accept, he wanted to be Reborn's Sky and his lover – partner – whatever the term was, to care for him, to be there for him whenever he needed or wanted a presence, to offer his companionship in every way and to welcome him back when travels and hardships left him weary. Tsuna wanted nothing more than to accept and take the plunge, successfully if possible.

But – he was also afraid. He remembered the old tales of the family, warning him about soul bonds souring as the relationship ceased to be truthful, as one abandoned the other, as the genuine love turned into abject hate or worse, scornful indifference. In this case, it never ended well for his family as they fell sick, becoming ghost of who they were and fading away. Tsuna had always dreaded it, watching his mother like a hawk for any signs. While Iemitsu was a fool, he was a fool in love and Nana had latched into their connection, nurturing it, refusing to let it shrivel. It was hard, and sometimes, Tsuna would catch her stifling lonely sobs. He had seen what a damaged bond did to their family, and he didn't want to suffer the agony of having one.

He was torn, rendered mute and frozen.

Tsuna blinked, watching Reborn frowned down at him, fingers brushing his cheek. Startled and mildly embarrassed, he realized that he had lost his composure, though it was only one tear escaping him. His reaction was puzzling the hitman, who was blatantly scrutinizing him, trying to decipher exactly what the issue was.

"I," Tsuna croaked out, stopping as he didn't know what he was going to say.

Reborn kept silent for a few moments, observing him carefully. With an ease that came from experience, he detached himself from his own emotions temporarily.

"What would you regret the most?" He asked simply, pulling away and pausing when one of Tsuna's hands shot up to catch his vest before he could step away.

Tsuna silenced his initial answer, born out of self-preservative fear, and took the time to think over.

He remembered his mother speaking about the Fading, telling him quietly that her own sister had been violently wrenched away from her beloved – Fate deciding to separate them earlier than anyone could have predicted. In her last years, she had stayed with her family and one evening, she had confided in her baby sister, in Nana, that even if she was given the opportunity to choose between the few years with her soulmate or live her long life without them, she would have picked her One without any hesitation. She had smiled sadly at Nana, confiding that she would have forever regretting never meeting her soulmate, finding happiness with them, because she firmly believed that a life without her other half was not a life at all. Lonely and lacking, she had called it.

His mother's sister's voice echoing in his mind, spoken by Nana, settled the desperate turmoil he had been trapped in. Sighing, Tsuna closed his eyes, a wry smile curling his lips.

"Trust you to find the answer to any problem," he noted, amused that it would be Reborn who would help him.

He opened his eyes, meeting a guarded dark gaze, and smiled softly. He uncurled his fingers from their tight grip on Reborn's vest, spreading them instead on his firm chest.

"What I would regret the most," he repeated, lowering his voice without conscious thought, "would be to say no."

"But?" Reborn prompted and of course he would sense the hesitation.

Tsuna quieted, wondering if he could – should add another burden on the hitman's shoulders. What was wrong, telling him about the soulmate's bond and the consequences, especially the most terrible, or keeping it a secret as to avoid restricting Reborn in his choice? Then again, if Reborn didn't know about it in the first place, he wouldn't be able to truly decide, as he wouldn't know everything. Not telling anything would be to make the decision on his stead, and keeping secrets reminded Tsuna too much of Iemitsu's misgivings.

"There are… things," Tsuna began carefully, unconsciously starting to lightly tap his forefinger on Reborn's chest nervously, "important things, that I have not told you."

Reborn narrowed his eyes, "Such as?"

"Things that I wouldn't have told you if – if I didn't want this," his free hand waved the space between them in a vaguely encompassing gesture, "this, uh, relationship with you." He paused and admitted, "it's a long story, and not one that should be interrupted."

"Very well," Reborn conceded reluctantly, not keen on letting matters unfinished or unresolved. "You will tell me afterwards, however."

Tsuna inclined his head in agreement, and slipped his hand in Reborn's, letting him guide him back to the restaurant.

The diner was probably delicious, but it tasted like ash to Tsuna as he tried to settle his nerves and not burst into spontaneous combustion. He took great advantage of the fact that he didn't speak Icelandic and that the ambiance was joyously noisy, giving him a good excuse for not participating into the festivities, save for a few English conversations here and there. He nevertheless was subdued, glaring at his beer, debating if liquid courage was what he needed or his brain's full capacities, until someone – he didn't catch who – decided that fruit juice would be a better bet for him to loosen up. When it was time to leave, he was so stressed that he flinched when a hand clasped his shoulder in an amical gesture. Horrified by his own reaction, he immediately disguised it and beamed at everyone around him, forcing some cheer to prevent any awkwardness. Neither Reborn nor him spoke when they returned to the car, silence cloaking the air as they drove back to the house.

Once inside, Reborn put the car keys on the coffee table and sat, crossing his leg over his knee, on the couch. He stared at Tsuna, waiting for him to begin, watching him flutter nervously. Tsuna sighed and also plopped down on the couch, cross-legged and sliding around to face the hitman properly. There was no sound for a few seconds, Tsuna grasping his courage to speak, what he had been planning to say during the dinner and in the car.

"You told me about Vongola blood, about this Hyper Intuition that is passed down, right?" Tsuna flicked his eyes up, meeting Reborn's gaze. "You believe in it, otherwise you wouldn't have mentioned it, I guess."

Reborn didn't say anything, merely waiting. Tsuna tried not to be intimidated by his guarded stance, figuring that anyone would be in his position.

"Dying Will Flames and perceptive instincts aren't the only abilities that can be passed through the blood," he bluntly continued. "Do you remember the tale I traded when we first came here? It was only a legend, yes, but every legend has some truth in them. I don't know if my mother's line comes from the kami or elves or if they were merely blessed priests, but fact is, Nana's blood carries more than oxygen and iron."

"The last verse," Reborn narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, surprising Tsuna as it revealed that the hitman did remember and quite well, "mentioned bonding of souls."

"It's literal," Tsuna confirmed, ruffling his hair nervously. "We only awaken the existence of our soulmate bond when we enter teenager years, though there had been exceptions. Sometimes, we learn that whoever was destined to be with us had already passed on, so there's nothing to do but abandon the bond and try to live our life fully without them. It is easier when there had been no contact, as the link was not nurtured."

"If there had been contact, then?"

Tsuna winced, looking away. "If there is a sincere relationship, with reciprocated feelings and everything, but our soulmate dies or leaves us, then we Fade." His eyes stared at the car keys intently, deliberately avoiding Reborn's dark gaze. "It takes days, months or years, depending on the person, to – to go on, on their own."

"You die," Reborn flatly clarified.

"Yes," he admitted softly, looking everywhere but at the hitman. "The ripping of the bond is traumatic for the soul," he explained with a pained grimace. "Though, our soulmates are not affected, I think. Not to this point, at least. There's just a lingering pain, or the impression that something's missing, it depends."

There was a moment of silence, and Tsuna flicked his eyes back on Reborn, suppressing a flinch at his stony composure.

"We don't always seek our soulmates," he continued quietly, not really knowing why but unwilling to let the suffocating silence settle, "and some of us fall in love with other people. It's – it's like a possibility, a chance that can be taken. It's not as if we're forced to do anything." Then, in for a penny, in for a pound, he added, "I've always thought that I wouldn't try meeting my soulmate, that I wouldn't risk falling in love, hence why I looked elsewhere."

"Why?"

Tsuna gave him a wry look, "because, while the soulmate bond is a gift, we're also cursed – or blessed – with the ability to feel the emotions of people around us, a fortiori when we share a bond with them. That's why I know that Mum is still alive and relatively well, and," he hesitated, "why I doubt that I can – that I would be who my soulmate needs."

"You're an Empath," Reborn deduced, taking the revelations in stride.

"Sort of," Tsuna frowned, "but I've chosen to shut my perception off with my bonds – well, aside my mother's – and to block people's emotions. I slip sometimes, as I'm not used to do that."

"Nono has Sealed more than your Flames, hasn't he."

It was not a question, and Tsuna was starting to wonder just how clever Reborn was, to pull off deductions like that.

"I only unlock my ability to feel people's emotions at the same time that my Flames burst through the – the Seal. The thing is, I didn't get it back completely," he elaborated. "When I was younger, I was horrifyingly perceptive without the need of my Hyper Intuition, to the point that I couldn't distinguish my feelings to the guy's two streets away. Now, if I focus, I can perceive Elvar's and get some flash of anyone passing, walking or driving, but that's all. It was stunted by this Incident, anyway."

There was another moment of silence, shorter. Reborn was still staring at him, sharp and scrutinizing. Tsuna felt himself tense, oddly feeling put to the test.

"Why did you change your mind?" The hitman suddenly questioned him.

"What – oh," he stilled, realizing that he would have to be careful with his next words. "Because I found them, talked with them, got to know them, argued and laughed with them, and somehow, managed to live with them almost peacefully for nearly two months despite assassins targeting our lives."

For a split-second, Reborn looked genuinely surprised. It vanished soon enough, replaced by a blank expression. "I see," he said.

"That's why," Tsuna carried on, ignoring the sudden tightening of his chest, painful. "I'm – I don't lie about important matters, and I don't hide them either, and I didn't want to – it's your choice, whether you want to take the leap or not."

"A way out," Reborn uncrossed his leg, twisting sideways to lean slightly towards him. "You still don't understand, do you?" He didn't wait for an answer, his question rhetorical. "I know what I want, and it's you."

Tsuna felt his cheeks heat up under his intense stare, resisting the urge to avert his eyes. "You – are you absolutely certain because – "

His words were cut off when Reborn, as fast as a snake, grasped his hands and pulled him harshly. Tsuna fell forward, unbalanced, straight against the hitman's chest. Lifting his head up, he opened his mouth, ready to give a snappish comment. His mind promptly shut down when Reborn snatched the opportunity, ravenous but contradictorily gentle, to steal a long kiss. Tsuna melted against him, overcoming his initial surprise and shyness at the playful nip on his lower lip. His agitation quietened, simultaneously feeling a delicious warmth settling in his chest and something clicked, snapping in place, purring contentedly at the back of his mind – not unlike another bond, but different, more alive and fluctuating.

When Reborn leaned back, he smirked at seeing Tsuna, breathless and looking almost dazed. His arms wrapped more comfortably around his Sky's waist, keeping him in his lap.

"The Bonds between a Sky and its Element is similar to the one linking you with your soulmate," he murmured, content to finally hold Tsuna as he wanted to for – he didn't really know how long. "To break it would irreversibly damage their ability to Bond with anyone else, and most don't stand the crushing loneliness that comes with it." He paused, letting Tsuna understand his words and the meaning behind them. "You're my Sky, Tsuna. No matter what happens, I won't let you go."

And Tsuna nodded, eyes wide, finally realizing what Reborn had been saying since the first time he brushed the subject. Relaxing, he slumped against the hitman, basking into the easy warmth, offered to him freely.

Amusingly enough, it didn't really change anything.

They were already living together, already sharing meals, already sharing a bed – to sleep, still – and they were rarely without the other. The eruption of the Grímsvötn volcano in November convinced them to monitor the situation carefully through the national information, stalling any further travel until everything settled down, though the impact wasn't as dreadful as they imagined. Surprisingly, Tsuna made tremendous progress with his training, his Sky Flames more stabilized with the presence of his Sun, though they still tended to react wildly or on their own if he didn't pay attention. Learning how to swim was also more enjoyable than he expected, especially when the water was naturally warmed up with the island's geothermal energy – reminding Tsuna of Japan and its hot springs, simultaneously making him melancholic and at home – and he trusted that his teacher wouldn't let him drown.

Though, one could argue that something very important did change.

They stopped pretending. It wasn't an act anymore, and the opportunity to learn a few things about each other. For example, Tsuna was uncomfortable with public display of affection, to the contrary of Reborn who was shameless in that regard. They both were fond of cuddles, though Reborn always made sure that he could reach his guns without hindrance. What Tsuna was glad to see, it was how relaxed Reborn was, almost lazy, when they were back at home, lounging on the couch. When the hitman grew restless, they would leave for a few days or even an entire week, warning Elvar of their absence.

It was peaceful, it was nice, it wasn't going to last.

Tsuna was preparing lunch, dicing his carrots to put them into his attempt at a decent lamb stew, when he heard a knock. He paused, knife hovering. It hadn't sounded coming from the door, but rather from a window. If it wasn't silent in the house, he didn't think he would have even noticed it. He considered ignoring it, but ultimately relented, keeping his knife in his right hand. He wasn't expecting anyone – it could be Elvar as he had the habit to show up suddenly, but never at the door, and it certainly wasn't any of their friends as they were all busy with their jobs and wouldn't come unannounced anyway, or Reborn as the man had the keys, though he was currently in town, hunting for books to stall his boredom or teach him something or another – but decided that if any assassins had found them, they wouldn't knock but would rather take down the wall.

Abandoning his vegetables, he slipped quietly into the living-room without sparing a glance at the front door. He cautiously went to the window, pausing half-way. He watched as a bird – it looked like a hawk, a petite falcon, mixing dark feathers with a white throat and yellow legs – knocked again on the pane, impatient now that Tsuna was in its sight. He dropped the knife on the coffee table and approached until he could open the window, wincing at the marks left. The hawk didn't wait and instantly flew further inside, landing neatly on the valet stand converted into a towel rack, currently empty of linen and now serving as a perch for visiting raptors.

Leaving the window open, Tsuna wandered towards the hawk, noting that it had kept staring at him. For a split-second, he wondered if he was expected to feed it – him, her? – then hoped not, as he had zero knowledge about falconry, aside from 'raptors are usually carnivorous' and 'they don't digest milk'. It was evident from the lack of panic and the rather intent determination to get inside that the falcon was used to humans and probably even trained. If anything, the very small device attached to one of its legs showed that it was regularly carrying messages.

Which, Tsuna supposed, meant that someone was trying to contact them. Using a hawk was original, but the fact that they had been found, was not reassuring. Either this someone already knew where they were, which was worrying, or the falcon had been extraordinary intelligent, finding them on its own, which was amazing.

Anyway, Tsuna didn't know if he would be able to read whatever the message was, as he strongly suspected that it would be written in code. Instead of approaching any further the, admittedly, beautiful hawk, he gave a friendly smile and retrieved his knife, going back to the kitchen. He continued his preparation, placing water and pieces of lambs for the raptor aside, humming absently. Distracted, he grabbed the heated pot without gloves and squeaked in pained surprise, dropping it back on the stove with a loud clank. He started when the hawk answered him with a clear and high-pitched whistle, swooping into the kitchen.

Tsuna stared, burn forgotten, as the raptor fumbled its landing on the clean – and thankfully empty – countertop, its dark eyes – reminding him of Reborn – sharply assessing him.

"Huh," he uttered, bemused, "I'm fine?"

The hawk didn't look impressed. Tsuna tilted his head on the side, and delicately loosened his control on his Flames. As expected, ever since their freedom from the Seal, they stretched in the room eagerly. He watched attentively the falcon, expecting discomfort, panic or another negative reaction. Instead, he received a croon, the bird approached a bit closer, walking oddly.

"Okay," Tsuna murmured, staying where he was. "I guess that I underestimated Reborn's explanation about Sky Flames' Harmony." He shrugged one shoulder, dismissing, and smiled softly at the hawk.

He then took care of soothing his burn and returned to his preparation, glancing curiously at the falcon whose attention was divided between the pieces of lamb and keeping watch on the surroundings, including himself. He amusedly got the impression of a protector surveying his moves and he shook his head at the notion. Twenty minutes later, Tsuna went back in the living-room, catching the sound of jingling keys.

"Welcome back," he greeted Reborn, watching him put the keys with their siblings on an improvised shelf they had put near.

Reborn took one look at him and demanded, "tell me."

"We have a guest," Tsuna explained, not surprised that the hitman instantly knew. "Of the feathered carnivorous kind, carrying a letter, most likely for you." He paused, then added, teasingly, "it seems that your acceptance notice got lost for a good decade. Do you think Hogwarts accept adult students?"

"You can't come with me," Reborn retorted without missing a beat, closing the door behind him and elegantly removing cloak and shoes off.

Tsuna faked offense. "You wouldn't try to smuggle me inside?"

"With your luck, you will be accidentally Transfigured into a Snidget, get stuck and then sent to a reserve for your own protection." Reborn deadpanned, tugging lightly at a brown lock. "I would rather be spared the hassle of breaking into a highly secured reservation to change you back."

"You'd still come for me," Tsuna pointed out, and he couldn't keep his grin off his face.

Reborn scoffed at him, giving him a look.

"I also would, you know?" Tsuna met his gaze steadily, then scrunched up his nose, "though, knowing you, I probably would just manage to bump into you while you're escaping."

His grin widened when Reborn answered, "I know," with a faint smile, voice a tad softer. A shriek cut through, reminding them that they had a hawk waiting. The raptor, impatient, wobbled towards them, then flew over to his previous perch – the valet stand. Giving them an imperious look, it ruffled its wings with another cry.

"A Eurasian Hobby," Reborn recognized, approaching silently. "Artemisia, then."

"Who?" Tsuna asked curiously, as he followed a step back.

"Vongola trains raptors as hunters and messengers," with the easy grace of experience, the hitman removed the thin tube holding the letter.

"Right, but how did… Artemisia," Tsuna carefully articulated the name, unfamiliar, "found us?"

"As a hitman allied with Vongola, it was decided that I would be assigned with one or several messengers to reach me discreetly and safely," Reborn explained, stroking the falcon's feathers delicately in thanks. "Animals are extremely sensitive to Flames, as you have no doubt noticed," he sent Tsuna a pointed look, referring to the Sky Flames still thrumming in the room.

Tsuna smiled sheepishly, but didn't rein them in. "So, what? She, uh, tasted your Flames and memorized them?"

"Essentially, yes."

Tsuna was suitably impressed, peering at the calm raptor. He checked his watch – uncaring of the hour itself but using the hands to keep track of the minutes – and calculated that he still had time before adding what was left to the pot. He glanced up, squinting at the piece of paper but couldn't decipher whatever was written. With his Sky Flames freely roaming and with the distant awareness of their bond, he easily picked on Reborn's darkening mood.

"Lesson time," the hitman sharply snapped, turning around and fixing Tsuna with one of his unnerving and annoyed stare, "you can use your Flames to notice incoherences in your surroundings and in people's behaviors. Tell me, is there anything unusual about Artemisia?"

Tsuna frowned, suddenly nervous. If Reborn asked him that, it meant that there was indeed something wrong. He coaxed his Flames towards Artemisia who crooned as she felt the intangible warmth wrap around her gently, comforting but assessing. Aside from learning that she was tired from her flight, ignoring a lingering hunger that she could satiate when she would take to the heavens soon enough, and that she had never felt so comfortable in her young years, Tsuna didn't notice anything alarming. He was on the verge of withdrawing when his Intuition suddenly screamed at him. Startled, he flinched, his body coiling, but could not stop his Flames from brushing against something that had seemed to flicker into existence, lurking malevolently on Artemisia's left talon, and it lunged at him.

There was a snarl beside him, a fierce protectiveness, Sun Flames roaring in offense, and Tsuna yanked his own Flames away, desperately trying to stop the anomaly from touching him any further. He wasn't entirely successful, and he balked and bristled at the sheer wrongness that latched into him, oblivious to Artemisia's shock at the sudden violence who shrieked, flapping her wings wildly.

At Reborn's Italian curse, Tsuna was struck by panic, unused to the hitman's expressing crudely his displeasure.

"Mist Flames," Reborn explained in a clipped tone, furious with himself to have missed the threat. "Dormant until Sky Flames awaken them, designed to act as a tracking device."

Tsuna barely heard him, feeling his skin crawl at the vile impression of the now-identified Mist Flames trying to somehow infect his own Flames like a poisonous leech.

"How do I get rid of that?" He shrieked not unlike Artemisia, wrestling down the urge of clawing at his arms.

"Two options," Reborn grasped his wrists, stopping him from harming himself accidentally, and forced their eyes to meet. "One, you can merge your Flames with the intruders and absorb them, it should nullify whatever effect they have. Two, you can block their ability of Construction, robbing them on their capacity to cling to you."

Tsuna spared him a dumbfounded look, screaming 'and how am I supposed to do that?' soundlessly. Reborn tightened his grip painfully in response.

"I can't help you," he unflinchingly and sternly told him. "Do it on your own."

Withholding the sarcastic and slightly hysterical quip on his tongue, Tsuna released a frustrated sound instead. With the certainty that he probably couldn't do anything to worsen the situation, he closed off his Bond with his Sun, not wanting to expose Reborn to any unexpected infection or assault. He felt a stab of guilt when he perceived Reborn's concealed flinch, knowing how terribly cold it was to be shut off, but resolutely ignored it. It was temporary, just long enough to get rid of the alien Flames.

Spurred on by his distaste of causing harm to Reborn and his wish to mend everything, Tsuna focused on his task. The Mist Flames, by themselves, weren't harmful. They weren't poisoning him or anything, but it felt unfamiliar and unwelcome to him. It was like the hug of someone you didn't know but took an immediate dislike to, leaving you petrified in horror and willing to teleport yourself to your home to change or take a shower. Except, it was his Flames that were being touched, his very core, leaving him feeling extremely vulnerable as if he was naked. He might be nice and accepting and whatnot, but he absolutely hated to feel his privacy encroached rudely and uninvitedly.

Instead of dispersing his untouched Flames to avoid any contact as his first reaction had been, Tsuna coaxed them into enclosing the Mist into intangible Sky coils. He paused, hesitating, wondering what he could do. While the Mist Flames were attempting to weave their way into his own to form something of a braid – and Tsuna had no idea how Flames could do that – he noticed that the Harmony characteristic was starting to kick in, apparently deciding that merging was better than shying away – and was therefore helping the Construction.

Tsuna snorted in derision. How was he supposed to chase the Mist away when his own Flames were already adapting to it?

"You're a Sky, piccolino," Reborn reminded him, loosening his hold, reading his mind as always. "Rejection is as foreign to you as is mindless destruction."

"Marvelous," he muttered, flinching then frowning when he noted something odd about the interaction.

He felt his blood drain from his face abruptly, and Reborn grasped his shoulders to hold him up were he to lose balance. He had not realized that when his Sky Flames merged directly with other Flames, it was literal. He didn't know if it was because his Flames were more potent or plentiful, but they were closing on the Mist with the ineluctable languor of a snake and the deft skill of a spider, forcing the braid to dissolve away as the unfamiliar Flames were promptly swallowed and absorbed. Just like that, they lost their identity, attuning to his core and irrevocably shifting.

Apparently, the Harmony that Sky Flames didn't allow for anything but Harmony in his core, shoving or transforming anything that managed to latch.

"A state without incoherence," Tsuna repeated blankly Reborn's words, unsure if he was afraid by the reaction of his Flames or bewildered that he had virtually nothing to do. "Say, Reborn, it's not possible for Sky to have, I don't know, other type of Flames, right?"

"Xanxus, one of Nono's sons, has Flames of Wrath," Reborn corrected his assumption, dark eyes assessing his distressed Sky. "It is believed to be a harmonious combination of Sky and Storm."

His explanation did nothing to comfort. If anything, Tsuna grew almost hysterical.

"When you told me to absorb the Mist Flames," his hands grasped the hitman's wrists, his eyes gleaming like burning amber, "did you mean to – to convert them?"

"No," Reborn tilted his head back, taken aback, "I know that Vongola has a technique to nullify Flames and seal them away in ice, but I was unaware that your Flames could Harmonize with any others and turn them as your own."

"But – that means that's not normal!" Tsuna burst out, abruptly releasing Reborn and wriggling his hands together, progressively working himself up into a frenzy. "If no one else does that – "

"Stop," Reborn harshly demanded, grasping Tsuna's chin and forcing their eyes to meet. "You're the first to discover that pure Sky Flames can do that. It doesn't mean that you're an anomaly, but merely resourceful. You went farther than your peers, that's all. There is nothing wrong with that. Understand?"

Tsuna stilled, letting himself calm down and believe the hitman's words. His shoulders relaxed, and his eyes turned back to their usual shade. He resolutely banished any lingering doubts, settling back.

"Right," he breathed out, looking sheepish. "Sorry."

"Now," Reborn released his chin, but kept their gazes locked. "Stop blocking me."

Without any hesitation, Tsuna welcome his Bond with his Sun back, and they both felt tension drain away at the familiarity and the closeness. Reborn sent him a stern look, wordlessly commanding him not to do it again. Instead of agreeing – knowing full well that he would do anything he could to spare Reborn from harm – Tsuna pointedly glanced at the message almost crushed into the hitman's hand.

"Well?" He inquired, keeping his voice light, even as he slowly turned away to go back to the kitchen, falling back into comforting routine. "What did the message say?"

"Vongola is almost done," Reborn let him go, unwilling to push him when it was clear that his Sky was still somehow unbalanced. He noticed that Artemisia had taken refuge outside, escaping through the open window. "They're asking us to return."

Tsuna almost dropped his carrots, snapping his head up. "You mean, to go to their headquarters?"

"Even if the Mist Flames are gone, they still have alerted their owner of their location," Reborn calmly reminded him, pocketing the tube and its message. "This place is no longer safe. Besides," his voice softened ever so slightly, "your identity is known."

He didn't add anything else. He didn't have to.

"I… see," Tsuna finally said, adding the vegetables to the pot and covered it once again. "When do we leave?"

Reborn prowled closer, silent as usual. He leaned against the counter, observing him.

"Tomorrow," he decided that it was unlikely enough for their pursuers to find a flight for Reykjavík so soon. "Most likely before lunch," he added, wondering if they would be lucky enough to snatch plane tickets as well.

Anywhere would do. It was another chase. Tsuna nodded distractedly, starting to take out plates, bowls and cutlery.

"I can prepare something for tomorrow, to eat before we enter the airport," he offered, purposefully focusing on the practical aspects. "Do we take any baggage?"

"Only carry-on baggage," Reborn paused, dark eyes lingering, but didn't insist. "I'll warn Elvar."

"Lunch's ready in twenty minutes," was Tsuna's answer, putting two glasses on the counter.

He waited until he couldn't sense Reborn's Flames in the house, then sagged against the counter, ruffling his hair tiredly. Soon, he would have to decide how his future would be. Would he remain within the Mafia or would he nevertheless try to leave it? He didn't even know how he stood regarding Vongola. Was the heir alright? If so, did it mean that Vongola would leave Tsuna be, try to recruit him or worse, plot his death? Tsuna was half-convinced that it was likely that his existence could be perceived as a threat, and in this case, it wouldn't be far-fetched to suppose that someone in the Family – as opposed to their enemies – would want him dead.

How about his mother? Was Nana alright? The bond they shared was still thrumming comfortingly, but he was still worried. He suddenly wondered if she would stay with Iemitsu or if she would be hidden away once again. Nana couldn't – wouldn't cope with another rejection. If Iemitsu still insisted to keep her away, Tsuna would stop contemplating torture, he would do it himself – with help from a gleeful Reborn, no doubt.

Tsuna stared unseeingly at the floor. He couldn't leave Reborn. Being Sky and Sun, being soulmates who were truly trying to be with each other, revolved around the same wish: he wanted to stay with Reborn. There was no denying that it was one of the most fundamental drives that he had nowadays. There was also little doubt that he would even fight trolls and madmen to share another day – peaceful or chaotic – with the hitman.

It should make the decision quite easy, shouldn't it? Logically, it meant that he would stay in the Mafia. Thing was, Tsuna would rather stay out and away of any Family business. How was he supposed to conciliate a rather ordinary life with the looming presence of the Mafia at his back?

"Nothing's ever simple, is it," he sighed then straightened.

He had a table to lay and a meal to watch over.

When Reborn came back exactly twenty minutes later with two plane tickets to Milan in his hand, looking a comical mix of exasperated and nonplussed, Tsuna couldn't bring himself to be surprised. He returned to pouring the stew into the bowl cradled in his hand, lips twitching into an amused smile.

"He bought them two months ago," Reborn deadpanned, putting the tickets beneath his keys on the shelf.

"Maybe he's related to Luce," Tsuna theorized with a grin before trading bowls to serve himself.

Reborn visibly paused at that. "The world wasn't ready for her, it certainly isn't for more."

Tsuna openly laughed, the stew sloshing into the bowl and almost spilling, then reduced his amusement into snickers. "You did not just go there." He shook his head, dodging Reborn when the hitman half-heartedly tried to steal a bowl, adding, "you need to wash your hands first!"

Tsuna returned to the table, carefully putting everything down. He grabbed the water bottle and filled their glasses before sitting down. He was twirling his spoon pensively when Reborn slid into his seat as elegantly as ever.

"Considering that we're leaving tomorrow," his spoon plunged slowly into his bowl, "we'll either finish the Kjötsúpa or give the leftovers to Elvar."

Reborn speared a piece of potato with his fork. "What do you want to do this afternoon?"

Tsuna hummed, staring critically at his meat, assessing if it was sufficiently tender. "I honestly don't know. I mean, we met nice people here and I would like to say goodbye but…" he trailed off, flicking his gaze up, "they're busy and we don't have much time."

"Is there something you would like to see or do?"

Tsuna ducked his head, smiling half-bashfully half-impishly. "Coming back here, that's something I would very much like to do." He stared intently at his floating pieces of thyme, "with you, of course."

He waited – nervous but hoping, half-dreading – and started when Reborn reached out, gently lifting his head up. Sometimes, Tsuna distinctly had the impression that Reborn's patience with him was simultaneously new to the hitman and as ingrained as his love for mischief – a trait that would baffle many of his acquaintances.

"We will," Reborn quietly but gravely stated, then flicked his forehead in reprimand.

For being difficult, Tsuna supposed. He stirred his soup absently, leaning back slightly. They were leaving for the Vongola Headquarters, weren't they? That meant that, since Iemitsu worked for the Family and was charged to protect Nana, there was a high chance that he would see his mother.

"Gifts," Tsuna finally spoke, "I'd like to find something for Mom."

Reborn didn't seem surprised, expecting the answer. "Elvar will have something to eat tonight, then."

Tsuna blinked, his piece of rutabaga falling back into his bowl with a quiet splash, and frowned, "wait, why are you…" he cut himself off, tilting his head aside, bemused. "Aren't we leaving tomorrow?"

"It will take us close to six hours to reach Reykjavík," Reborn reminded him, raising an eyebrow at him. "We shouldn't have problem finding a room, and it will leave you tomorrow morning to find what you want."

"I guess that means that we leave immediately after lunch," Tsuna commented, already trying to think of what he should take. "What's the maximum weight for a hand baggage?"

"If it exceeds four kilos, I will leave it in the trash," Reborn warned him. "Some warm change of clothes, your papers, your gifts, nothing unnecessary."

Tsuna nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Right, I'll give Elvar the keys then, telling him about the leftovers and whatnot. Want to come?"

He laughed at Reborn's flat look, dodging the napkin thrown at him.

A cryptic but touching goodbye and several hours later, Tsuna stared out of the window of their hotel room, watching the sea glitter ethereally under the soft light of a waning moon. He felt slightly off, and it wasn't due to his Intuition screaming warning. It was rather the quiet realization that he was going to miss living in Iceland, in a nice little house, with Reborn and with very limited problems. He knew, objectively, that they wouldn't have been able to stay long there. Not only were they mostly living on Reborn's hard-earned money – something that had bothered Tsuna from the beginning, feeling guilty that the man had to use it to protect him – but time and obscure politics would ultimately decide their next moves and the issue of this whole mess. Still, it didn't stop him from being melancholic.

The thought that he would finally see his mother – if he were to follow Vongola's orders, he would sure as hell demand to meet her – was almost enough to cheer him up. The prospect of Reborn meeting Nana, though, was trickier. She would instantly notice that his bond with his soulmate was active, binding in a way. Considering that she had witnessed her son breaking down when the link awoken and that she had listened to his frightened babble, she clearly did not possess a very high opinion of his soulmate. While Tsuna had the time to know and accept the hitman – not quite understanding, some of his quirks remained puzzling – it was not the case for his mother. She would worry, certainly, and Tsuna wondered if she would even react hostilely in her protectiveness.

Speaking of Reborn, Tsuna averted his eyes from the view and frowned at the door of their room. With enough focus, he could tell that the Sun was no longer in the building and was currently walking towards the city center. It was already ten in the evening, most of the shops were already closed. They would return the Murano to the car hire first thing tomorrow morning. Tsuna doubted that Reborn wanted to get smashed in a bar. It could be that the hitman merely wanted to walk around – he was rather terrible at staying put, especially not when stuck in a room without something to focus on. He gave up on trying to figure it out and chose to rely on his Intuition, deciding that if something needed his attention, he would be alerted. Reborn was free to do as he pleased, after all.

Tsuna turned off the lights and crawled into the bed, determined to attempt getting some sleep, and resolutely ignored how uneasy he felt in being alone in an unfamiliar room. Fingers closed around the silver clasp on his wrist, and he relaxed, falling asleep. To jolt awake barely an hour later, confused and sleepy, when the mattress dipped. He produced an inquisitive noise from the back of his throat, feeling familiar calloused hands pull him closer to the center of the bed. He didn't protest the movement, but cracked his eyes open, squinting at the darkness cloaking them.

"Reborn?" He rasped, noticing the restlessness in Sun Flames. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Reborn carded his fingers into brown locks, tugging and unraveling knots.

Tsuna nestled closer, eyes closing without conscious input. He resisted the call to slumber, however.

"You sure?" He mumbled into a clothed chest, barely comprehensible.

"I'll take care of everything," Reborn shushed him, wrapping his arm around Tsuna's waist to effortlessly cage him in an embrace. "Sleep, cuore mio."

Despite the ominous-sounding promise, Tsuna couldn't pierce through the alluring drawing of sleep, warm and comfortable in his Sun's arms, and slipped easily into restful unconsciousness.

A shriek startled him awake. Disorientated and almost panicking, he rolled off the bed with a surprised squeak of his own. Tsuna groaned as he frowned at the midnight carpet where his face had smashed on. He knelt, rubbing his forehead. A croon sounded above him, and he glanced up to see Artemisia staring down at him.

"Good morning to you too," Tsuna muttered, grimacing as he stretched. "How did you get here?"

She didn't answer, not that he expected her to. He shivered, feeling cold now that he was out of his cocoon and without the warmth of his Sun. Reborn was nowhere in sight, already out. Tsuna stumbled on his feet, glancing at the open window. He wondered if Artemisia's talons would cause damage on the covers as he petted lightly her feathers. The sun had yet to rise, so he turned on the lights. He noticed that there was a covered tray on the desk, waiting for him. He found a cup of black tea and a bowl of oatmeal with raisins, both still hot. He downed the glass of orange juice first, picking up the lonely toast and ate it dry, despite the strawberry jam available.

"Any idea when he left?" Tsuna asked Artemisia, finding her eyes still on him. "Knowing him, he wouldn't have left someone he didn't know enter the room when I was still sleeping. So, he left not too long ago."

He received no answer from her. Shrugging, he went back to his breakfast, eating it quickly. He didn't want to linger, suspecting that as soon as Reborn returned, they would be leaving. His Intuition and Bond(s) were quiet, but he couldn't help the concern creasing his brow. Sighing, he disappeared into the bathroom, trying to relax through routine gestures.

Reborn came back thirty minutes later, his timing impeccable, to find Tsuna coaxing Artemisia on the windowsill.

"I know it's cold," the little Sky was murmuring in sympathy, voice muffled by the snug scarf wrapped around his neck and lower face, "but you can't stay here. Besides, we'll be leaving soon. You should get a head start if you insist in following us."

Reborn grasped his packed bag, faintly amused. "Don't worry about her, she'll be fine."

"Maybe," Tsuna conceded, not surprised by the hitman's silent appearance, "but it's minus something outside, and she doesn't like it. She's also hungry."

"Artemisia's a hunter," Reborn dismissed his concern. "Come, or we won't have time to find something for Nana."

Tsuna sent one last look at Artemisia before grabbing his bag and following the hitman out.

"Any ideas?" He asked, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing anyone as they walked down the corridor.

"Ask around," Reborn suggested, shrugging one shoulder. "Before doing any shopping, however, we'll return the car. We'll use the public transports to get around."

They did so. It was barely eight when they checked out, and they wasted no time to go to the car hire, sorting everything out without any problem. They followed the advice of the hotel's receptionist, sticking to the popular shopping streets. Most stores opened at nine, giving them plenty opportunities to find something. Reborn quickly realized that Tsuna was still hesitant in letting him buy anything for him or his mother – amusing him briefly, as he was the only one with money – and convinced his little Sky with reasonable arguments, sheer stubbornness and diversion tricks to get what Tsuna had noticed. In the end, Reborn managed to buy two albums of the Sigur Rós group and a white and brown lopapeysa for Nana, the Njál's Saga and the Egil's Saga for Tsuna – with the innocent remark that it was either taking the books or spending the entire day knocked out cold in order to "spend the flight in peace" – and Halldór Laxness' Independent People for himself.

"I will repay you," Tsuna insisted as they ate buttered flatkökur in one of the parks, taking an early lunch and ignoring the freezing temperatures.

"There's no need," Reborn demurred, watching a jogger following the path, then flicking his eyes to a family walking towards the basketball court.

Tsuna was undeterred, leaning forward on the picnic table. "There must be something I can do," he insisted, fixing earnest eyes on the hitman.

"There's plenty you can do," Reborn replied after a few seconds of silence, "but nothing that I need."

"Then," Tsuna frowned, frustrated, "what do you want?" He paused, realizing that he was beginning to sound a mix of unappreciative and possibly hurtful, and hastily added, "not that I'm not – I mean, I'm very grateful, and that's precisely why I would like to give you something in return."

Reborn smirked, amused by his fumbling. He crossed his leg over his knee, brushing against Tsuna.

"You already know what I want," he pointed out, watching as his Sky colored.

Tsuna was silent, keeping their eyes locked. Reborn delighted in teasing him, he knew. Yet, Tsuna doubted that the hitman would be so crude suddenly after months of patience. Breaking eye-contact, he glanced down at his last flatkaka.

"Yes," he admitted softly, then looked back up, "but is it possible?"

Reborn frowned, his amusement vanishing. "I wouldn't speak of it otherwise." His eyes narrowed, "the decision's ours, not anyone else's."

Tsuna nodded, trusting him, but not daring to believe his words. He couldn't help but think that it was more complicated than the hitman let it sound. Instead of dwelling further, he finished his snack and followed Reborn's lead, standing up. They left the park and headed to the airport, hurrying through the cold.

No one attacked or stopped them when they boarded the plane with their bags – and Tsuna still wondered how Reborn always succeeded in bringing his guns – and the flight itself was peaceful. The books were interesting, thankfully written in English, but Tsuna eventually gave up at some point, starting to feel a headache form behind his eyes, resolving to continue later. He glanced outside, watching the sky until he fell asleep against the window. He didn't stir when Reborn plucked the book from his lap to put it away, or when he was rearranged more comfortably, curling towards the hitman unconsciously. Reborn shook him awake when they landed in London, their two-hours stopover. They didn't leave the airport, wisely deciding that they should avoid courting any disaster.

Tsuna muffled a yawn behind his hand, watching the bustle of people.

"Our last flight will be shorter," Reborn reassured him, his own book in his right hand.

"Well," Tsuna quietly mused, ruffling his hair, "I hope that the jet lag won't be as terrible as the one we got the days following our arrival in Iceland."

"Who knows," the hitman evasively replied.

The night flight from London to Milan was as quiet, most passengers willing the few hours away by sleeping, reading or getting something to eat. Tsuna had opted to try understanding the beginning of the three hundred something pages of the Njál's Saga during their two-or-three-hour flight, aiming to exhaust himself to sleep the night away in Milan. He was mildly shocked to notice Reborn sleeping – and not "resting his eyes" as the hitman had claimed on a memorable day – beside him. He soon realized that Reborn trusted him to remark anything alarming and to react accordingly by, notably, waking him up. Tsuna felt immensely flattered, and his decision to stay awake was further cemented.

By the time the plane landed in Milan, Tsuna was simultaneously hating and adoring his book. Reading it gave him one hell of a headache, but for what he understood, it was interesting enough to be worth it. They passed the checkpoints without problem, much to Tsuna's wry astonishment.

"And now?" He asked, absently checking that his bag had everything.

"Now," Reborn answered darkly, "we vanish. We're back into the viper's nest, many eyes surveying the country to spot us. We can't afford to be caught nor to lower our guard. The last and the first steps are the deadliest."

"Absolutely charming," Tsuna drawled, then sighed. "I take it that no one's waiting for us."

"Hopefully, no," Reborn replied dryly, "as it would mean our enemies somehow found us. No, we'll stay somewhere familiar, where I'm always welcome, no matter the hour."

Tsuna wondered if he should find the words ominous or reassuring. They didn't take the bus but opted to call for a taxi. Entering the cab, Tsuna struggled with a déjà-vu impression, remembering very clearly their arrival and stay at Pisa. This time, he wasn't injured, and they had baggage. He didn't know why, but he found the differences funny, and he smothered his giggles behind his hands. The look Reborn sent him didn't help any, and he was forced to look away, biting his lip, to calm down. They arrived ten minutes later, the lack of traffic and snow helpful. Tsuna left the car first, turning around to see where they were.

And he stared, astounded.

Back then, despite knowing nothing about Reborn, Tsuna had nevertheless noted that the hitman had a taste for luxury. He only understood, as he gazed disbelievingly at the five stars hotel, that he had managed to underestimate Reborn's appreciation for it. The man was a regular, for kami's sake! It was not the first, second or even third time that the hitman had come here. He probably stayed there each time he got a job near, or in the region.

"Shinzō!" Reborn snapped, startling him out of his daze. "Come!"

Tsuna blinked at him, glanced at the prestigious façade and back at his Sun. He nodded silently and followed docilely, overwhelmed and intimidated. He tried to brace himself for the impressive hall and despaired when the doorman smoothly opened for them, offering them the glimpse of glinting black floor – marble, of course it was – under the light of heavy chandeliers. When he tripped on the red carpet leading to the reception desk, Tsuna decided to stop looking around and fixed a polite smile on his lips and his eyes on Reborn.

The Italian conversation went completely above his head, distracted as he was. He didn't mind and followed his Sun into an elevator, watching an employee pressed the button for the seventh floor. When they entered their suite, Tsuna was thankful that the lights were off, offering them a pretty view of the Milan Cathedral and partly concealing the gorgeousness of their rooms. Before leaving, the hotel employee turned them on and Tsuna instantly whirled around to face an indifferent hitman.

"So," Tsuna started, keeping his eyes resolutely on his Sun, "how do we vanish?"

"By using one of the most known and used method in disguise," Reborn smirked, eyes gleaming with an amusement that the Sky had learned to be wary of. "By changing one or several core aspects."

"Right," Tsuna slowly responded, eyeing him carefully. "Which means?"

"They're searching for two men, one tall Italian with dark hair, tanned skin and dark eyes, and a shorter brown-eyed Japanese male with messy chestnut hair and pale skin, both looking between sixteen and twenty-five." Reborn ignored his scowl at being referred as short. "One obvious solution is to either make both men disappear or only one of them."

Tsuna suddenly wondered why they didn't do whatever it was that the hitman had in mind since the beginning.

"Therefore," Reborn smoothly continued, "the most logical and easiest step is to determine which of us has the greater potential to pull off drastic change in appearance," his smirk widened, shark-like, and the young Sky twitched away reflexively. "Congratulations, Tsuna, you are the most qualified to pass as a woman."

"Hell no," Tsuna flatly denied then pointed an accusing finger at his Sun. "You just want to see me in a dress! There's no way I'm cross-dressing."

"Of course not, a dress is not appropriate for this kind of weather, especially not when snow is expected in a few days," Reborn scoffed at him, his tone of voice suggesting how idiotic his exclamation was. "Besides, you don't need to wear dresses or skirts to be feminine," he reasonably pointed out. "Heels will be essential to make you taller, however."

"You're just going to ignore my protests, aren't you?" Tsuna felt his shoulders slump in defeat.

"Don't worry, piccolino," Reborn ruffled his hair, gently teasing, "you will be the most stunning woman that has ever graced Milan."

"That's not reassuring!" Tsuna instantly protested, but he couldn't help the smile curling his lips at Reborn's amused chuckles, and he resigned himself. "Alright, fine, I'll try my best. What about you?"

"I will act my part as your husband," Reborn stated matter-of-factly, "with subtle differences to prevent any closer inspection."

"When are we supposed to leave?" Tsuna wondered out loud. "Sounds like lot of work."

"One week," Reborn shot him a meaningful look, "no more, no less."

Tsuna scrunched up his nose at the deadline but didn't argue. Instead, he let loose a jaw-breaking yawn, utterly exhausted. They wisely decided to postpone the conversation, opting to prepare themselves to bed. Half an hour later, Tsuna fell on the soft mattress, wriggling beneath the warm covers and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Standing in front of a full-length mirror, Tsuna was staring at his reflection in blatant disbelief, amazement faintly bubbling in his chest. He didn't know what was most shocking. His brown hair was now a honey golden with red reflects, as messy as ever though distinctly shorter, and half-hidden beneath a burgundy beret. To his bemusement, he learned that eyes could be a startling yellow ocher with lenses without seeming unnatural or out of a supernatural movie. His neck had disappeared beneath the long scarf, sharing the same shade as his little hat, smugly wrapped to keep warmth from escaping.

Tsuna had expected long coats, something to hide most of his body. The look he had received at his comment was nothing short of appalled and disapproving. It was apparently a no-no for short people to wear anything falling lower than their knees, as the clothe would dwarf them. Tsuna hadn't known that, and he didn't particularly want to either. Instead, he was forced into a velvet asymmetrical turquoise coat, with a burgundy leather belt to refine his waist.

Mercifully, Reborn had consented to let him wear a suit, though it was still a feminine cut. Tsuna was merely glad that he wasn't wearing any skirt or dress and would happily take any latte blouse and dark trousers anytime. Unfortunately, he couldn't escape the heels of his black ankle boots. While it took intense training to walk with them, considering his lingering clumsiness, he gained at least eight centimeters on his usual height. The shift of his perspective was both disturbing and refreshing. Still, the difficulty and the aches that his feet and his back suffered through were not worth the torture.

If anything, the make-up that was applied on his face to highlight his eyes and to give his complexion a healthier shade wasn't surprising. It was almost easy to ignore if he wasn't hyper-aware of the fact that he was wearing it. Even his lips had been painted with a delicate lipstick, the hue a tad darker than his lips' natural tone. Sighing silently, Tsuna reached with his black leather gloves for the black medium-sized satchel, completing the look. In fact, he mused as he glanced at the mirror, he looked more like an exotic androgynous flower than a woman.

Beside him, Reborn had a distinctively smug and almost vindictive smirk on his lips, eyes critically sweeping his appearance. He hummed in approval, unaffected by the glare he received.

"It will do," he nodded subtly, his verdict final, his eyes an odd shade of grey due to the lenses he had decided to wear.

Tsuna rolled his eyes. "Considering that it is you who chose the clothes, colors and accessories, that's not surprising." He sent the hitman a contemplative look, "does it mean that you had to dress as a woman to get a job done?"

"The art of disguise is an important skill to have," Reborn responded matter-of-factly, and it was as much of an affirmative answer as he would give. "Cross-dressing is hardly the worst guise I had to adopt."

Tsuna was struck with the burning curiosity to ask for examples. He refrained, as they were supposed to leave the hotel in a few minutes. Turning back to the mirror, he ignored his reflection and watched Reborn put on his pinstripe vest over his burgundy roll-neck, foregoing the tie. His dark dress shoes were already neatly laced, clicking quietly on the parquet. Hands covered with skin-fitting black gloves, he shrugged on his long coat and a brown vintage-style backpack – where most of their stuff was.

"You know," Tsuna absently remarked, eyes following the hitman's movements, "I would be extremely surprised if we succeed in leaving discreetly."

"I'm pleased to know that you like what you see," Reborn knowingly answered, chuckling as the young Sky colored. "Besides," he added with a shocking French accent, "any husband would proudly relish in knowing that the adorable beauty at his side is his wife, and no else's."

"Flattered," Tsuna drawled sarcastically then hummed, "odd, I expected more dragon-like possessiveness. You seem quite alright with showing me off like a delicious piece of meat."

Reborn scoffed, prowling closer and embracing him. "I am a possessive and territorial lover, yes, but you're neither an object nor a slave. Feel free to eviscerate anyone ogling you or treating you disrespectfully, or better yet," his voice lowered, and he finished darkly, "let me."

Tsuna shivered at the ominous promise and tried not to feel touched. He failed. Leaning back against Reborn's chest, he idly commented, "aren't we supposed to keep a low profile?"

"It doesn't matter," Reborn dismissed the question, reluctantly releasing him. "We won't be recognized, whether we attract glances or not."

They left the suite, walking leisurely towards the elevator, forced to slowness by Tsuna who wasn't used to his heels. Reborn didn't mind, faking a slight limp. A change of their gaits could be useful, were they to pass by someone who had already met them. They stopped by the desk to give their keys back. Tsuna was half-impressed and half-amused to notice the absence of recognition in the – different than the one who had first greeted them – receptionist's eyes. Ignoring the curious, interested or bored looks sent their way, they left the hotel, nodding at the doorman.

Tsuna tilted his head back, blinking when he felt the coldness of several flakes falling on his cheeks. He buried his lower face in his scarf, and latched on Reborn's offered arm, snugging closer. With idle steps, they walked up the street, boldly showing themselves and hiding in plain sight. Tsuna was still nervous, but with Reborn's confidence and lurking Flames, he was lulled into a sense of safety. His gait shifted from hesitant to serene, matching his Sun's nonchalance. Milan was a nice city, lit up in Christmas decoration, lively with people either hunting down gifts, sauntering through touristic spots or heading to work. While they seemed to belong to the second category, they had a destination in mind. Cautiously, they had opted to start from the Milan Cathedral and followed Via Dante until they abandoned it to enter a park and lingered to gaze at the Sforza Castle – still under restoring works – though they did not visit any museums. By the time they stopped to behold the Arco della Pace, Tsuna wanted nothing more than to throw his heeled shoes away from him, even if it meant walking in socks in the streets.

"Don't even think about it," Reborn half-threatened him with his unfamiliar accent.

"I don't understand why anyone would willingly inflict this – this torture daily on themselves," Tsuna frowned in distaste at his boots.

"To bolster their confidence, to oblige to social expectations and norms, to appear prettier, to abide to some jobs' demanding criteria, take your pick," the hitman carelessly replied, pulling them back into movement.

Tsuna scowled, displeased and disagreeing. "It's not your clothes that make your worth," he muttered mutinously.

"We're almost there," Reborn soothed him, leading him across the square. "Five minutes, I would say."

Tsuna sighed and adjusted his beret, glancing around, letting his Sun guide him. "By the by, have you noticed any of our fans on our walk?"

"A few," Reborn admitted uncaringly. "Low-ranked, busy carrying their missions or doing some shopping." His expression darkened abruptly, "their interest was not professional, I assure you."

"I see," Tsuna blinked, realizing that what he had taken for suspicious had clearly been located on the other side of the spectrum.

He hooked his arm with Reborn's but didn't add anything else. They continued in relative silence, watching the people go around their business, oblivious to obscure shenanigans. They crossed the street at the next pedestrian crossing, disappearing into an adjacent and slightly less crowded alley. Following a path known to him alone, Reborn brought them further into the maze, pedestrians and cars growing rarer. In a no-way street, a few meters beside a lonely and dry fountain against an old wall, they entered an inconspicuous bar.

Their arrival was noticed by virtually everyone inside – the ones playing cards at the farthest table, the ones drinking at another, the ones smocking near the door, the ones discussing with the barman. Tsuna was instantly intimidated by the atmosphere, assessing and cold. He had the distinct impression that he had stepped into unfamiliar, maybe-hostile, certainly unwelcome, territory. On his own, he would have stopped net in his tracks, fumbled with an excuse and hastily retreated. With Reborn, there was no chance for him to back away.

Unflinchingly, his Sun dragged him towards the counter, nodding at the barman.

"How's your father, Aldo?" Reborn seemingly randomly asked him, dropping his accent.

Tsuna perceived the general startle or flinch everyone gave, and the guys nearest to them leaned away. One man, brown-haired with a mustache and several scars, including one looking like a cross on his left cheek – knife wound perhaps – raised his eyebrows high, one arm on the table.

"Well, well," he took out a packet of cigarettes from his vest, picking one, "if it isn't Reborn. Back so soon among us?"

His neighbor with blond hair snorted, feeling his pockets for his lighter. "Not really, if the ploy is any indication." He gave a wry smile, "you know how popular he is, nowadays."

"And how generous I can be," Reborn sharply cut in, staring at them down, looking threatening in his long coat and in the dim light of the bar. "Does any of you need another reminder?"

A deadly silence fell, no one daring baiting the hitman any further. With his presence and a few pointed words, Reborn had successfully cowered an entire room of Mafiosi. Tsuna was simultaneously impressed, oddly proud and faintly smug. He shook his head to chase the ridiculous feelings away.

"He's up and about, as well as anyone can be," the barman finally responded to the initial greeting. "He's decided to go for a walk this morning, not before telling me that my brother's enjoying his holidays on the beach."

"Pass on my greetings, will you," Reborn merely responded.

"Sure."

Without lingering any further, the couple left the bar. As the door closed behind them, Tsuna could have sworn that a relieved sigh was collectively released. His lips twitched but he didn't frown nor smile, nor did he speak, following his Sun. Reborn led him towards a dead end where they found several cars parked in front of an impressive house. Sandwiched between a Fiat and several bicycles, they found a grey Alfa Romeo and a child that couldn't be any older than ten. The girl sauntered towards them, smiled and handed to Reborn the car keys.

"Grazie, Maria," Reborn gently ruffled her hair.

Impulsively, Tsuna put his beret on her blonde locks, grinning at her and putting his index in front of his lips with an air of conspiracy. She blinked at him in surprise but answered in kind, giggling silently as she ran back to her house, vanishing behind a corner.

"She's mute, isn't she," Tsuna stated, glancing back at the hitman. "She seems kind," he added.

"She is," Reborn affirmed, then beckoned him towards the sports car.

Tsuna complied almost eagerly, sighing blissfully when he could finally sit down, much to his Sun's amusement. He buckled his belt then closed his eyes, leaning against his seat, listening to Reborn start the engine.

"So," he spoke up above the mechanical purring, "you weren't asking after a relative of his, after all. Does it mean that someone's waiting for us… wherever we're going?"

"A Vongola member," Reborn confirmed, relaxing into driving, "will facilitate our passage from Civitavecchia to Palermo."

"Another ferry?" Tsuna didn't know if he was glad that most would be spent on a boat, or if he would rather take the car. "In the middle of December?"

"Would you prefer a private jet?"

Tsuna snapped his eyes open and stared at the hitman, wondering if it was a joke. Reborn smirked at his reaction.

"Don't worry," he off-handedly continued, "I heard that none of the pilots were free to pick us up." He waited for a beat of silence, then musingly added, "though, apparently, they're ready to spare both a yacht and a captain for us."

"Very funny," Tsuna scrunched up his nose at him. He paused, listening to his Sun's chuckles, and felt his eyes widened, "you can't be serious!"

Reborn shrugged, stopping at a red light, and spared him a look. "It's Vongola. What do you expect?"

"Reasonableness," Tsuna dryly answered, "but apparently, it doesn't belong to their vocabulary, does it?"

"Guilty," the hitman didn't bat an eyelash, condemning the Family without remorse, making his Sky snort.

Silence fell, peaceful and easy. Tsuna unwrapped the scarf from around his neck and wriggled out of his coat, throwing both clothes behind, on the back seat. He also divested himself of his gloves, stopping half-way as his fingers brushed against the clasp around his wrist. He traced the swirls graved in the silver, contemplative. He pulled off his other glove, sent both items to the back, and glanced at the two accessories that had followed his journey with him. His watch, still not working completely, giving the wrong hours and the wrong date, had left Japan, crossed several countries and seas with him. His bracelet had joined mid-travel and had stayed since. Glancing at Reborn's arms, Tsuna realized that he could trace the same parallel with his Sun.

"How long until he arrived at the port?" He heard himself ask.

"If the weather and the roads are peaceful, no longer than seven, but five hours at the very least."

Tsuna emitted a noncommittal noise, only half-listening.

They were back to their meeting point, cities disregarded. They were back in Italy, back to crossing the country in a car, though they were headed to a different direction. They were back, yes, but they weren't the same. They had changed through the journey they had taken, forced by enemies and duty. Tsuna remembered his mother's words and he found that they were truthful, even if they checked in the most surprising way.

Smiling to himself, Tsuna found amusement in the way life worked. Who would have thought that he would find both his soulmate and his Sun on this trial? Who would have thought that Reborn would finally find what he had sought, willingly or not, in a lost Sky in Venice?

They had spent every day with the other, from early August to now, exactly ten days before Christmas Eve. They could have hated the other in this forced closeness. They didn't, fell in love instead, and wasn't that the last of their concerns or interests at that time? Funny how things played, truly.

And now, they were travelling towards the resolution of this mad quest of protection and concealment. In two or three days, Tsuna would meet Nono, Vongola's Boss. In two or three days, Tsuna would make a choice – a choice that would decide not only his life, but Reborn's.

Biting his lip, Tsuna looked out the window, watching the snow clouds make way for heavy rain clouds. Drops, translucent drops, fell from the sky, showering the ground.

He could only pray that he would choose wisely.

"Penny for your thoughts." Reborn's voice pierced through his ruminations.

"Not worth it," Tsuna reflexively replied, his words tumbling from his lips without his conscious input. He sighed, ruffling his hair, "I'm merely reflecting on, you know, how unpredictable life can be."

"Indeed," Reborn murmured, slowing down, anticipating the behavior of the driver in front of them.

Tsuna traced again the swirls on his Sun's gift, and he was suddenly struck by the realization that Reborn had been subtly leaving hints over the course of their wander. Being an oblivious idiot, he hadn't even noticed them. He didn't know if he should laugh at himself in derision or bash his head in embarrassment. He settled for doing neither.

"I'm a bit scared," Tsuna admitted out of the blue, frowning down at his lap, voice quietening, "I know what I wish for, but I'm not sure that it will be granted to me."

"Fight for it," Reborn responded, blunt and casting away any useless platitudes, "and remember that I've chosen you, Tsuna. You won't be alone."

Tsuna felt his lips curl into a smile. "We'll be together, yes." He tilted his head, then, "I guess that it will be an opportunity for you to meet Mom, right?"

"I look forward to it," Reborn replied and Tsuna couldn't tell if he was sarcastic or not. "You're not telling Iemitsu?"

Tsuna snorted. "Why would I do that? I might have a father, but it doesn't mean that I have a Dad. I don't have any obligation to tell him anything. Besides," he shot his Sun a perceptive look, "I bet that you would rather he learn about it through gossip or something, years later, and as the last person to know about it." Tsuna was amused. "You're planning on letting everyone learn about it on their own, aren't you? Aside from my Mom, I guess," he paused, pensive, "I guess that I can see why you would enjoy the resulting chaos."

"How well you know me," Reborn silkily responded, smirking.

And Tsuna laughed.

They arrived at nearly eight in the evening, abandoning the car in the parking nearest to the port and to a park. Tsuna was back into his role of wife, not so much dreading meeting the mafioso, but rather the state of his feet when they would finally be able to relax. It was a cold night and aside from the streets with restaurants and bars, there wasn't many people outside. They were late to their appointed hour, but Reborn didn't seem inclined to hurry. They stuck to animate streets and arrived at the meeting point half an hour later than expected.

"Finally," an elegant woman in a classic black and white suit scowled in exasperation in Italian as soon as she caught sight of them.

Her purple eyes glared at them through her glasses, and she shook her head disapprovingly, disturbing slightly her light brown hair caught in a loose bun. Reborn paid no mind to her, throwing his keys to the man equally dressed in a suit, standing stiffly beside her.

"Do be careful," Reborn advised him with enough condescension to be annoying, "the car's more expensive than your dressing of identical suits."

"Turmeric," the woman intervened before the man could say anything, "please, ignore him."

Turmeric complied, not without sending a vicious look at the hitman who smirked, unaffected. Reborn turned his attention back on the woman, watching her impassively.

"Oregano," he greeted her indifferently, then switched abruptly languages, aware that Tsuna had not followed the previous comments, merely guessed them through their behaviors. "If Iemitsu can send two of his most trusted agents, he also could have come personally."

"I would rather deal with strangers than him," Tsuna deadpanned beside him, joining the conversation smoothly enough.

"He's busy," Oregano answered abruptly, shooting an unreadable glance at the young Sky, and started to walk away. "And so are we. We have no interest in lingering here. The sooner we're on the Pisces, the sooner we'll arrive at the Headquarters."

"What about your colleague?" Tsuna asked as they followed her brisk pace.

"He'll be fine," Oregano dismissed the concern, and smartly carried on, "I'm in charge of getting you both safely at destination. I expect to hear anything you could need, from dinner to medical assistance. Crossing the sea will take us approximately fourteen hours. From Palermo to the Headquarters, a car will take us there, in less than an hour. We're expected tomorrow afternoon. Any questions?"

"We'll eat dinner as soon as we're on board," Reborn stated, not one to make requests or let himself be bossed around. "We'll retire into the main cabin for the night without any interruptions, life-threatening situations excepted."

Oregano looked mildly offended, "we are more than qualified to assure the safety of – "

"No offence," Tsuna cut in, "but I don't know you, so I don't trust you. If you want me to reach wherever it is that we need to be tomorrow and not in a month, I suggest following Reborn's instructions. Of course," he added serenely but without mockery, "I'm not pretending to order you or anything. It's up to you."

Evidently, Oregano didn't have much of a choice. She relented easily, aware that she had no chance of convincing them otherwise. Tsuna didn't pay much attention to the rest of their walk, or to the appearance of the boat – yacht, whatever. He was in no mood to admire any luxury, and neither was Reborn. They were hungry and jet-lagged. Acting as a rather asocial couple, they retired into their attributed cabin as soon as they could, taking their dinner trays with them. After eating, washing and changing, they collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

The following morning, they took their breakfast in what Tsuna assumed was a lounge. The room was neither narrow and small nor uselessly large and spacious, basked in warm colors, the patina of the different wooden pieces shining softly. They settled comfortably on padded seats, the hitman casually taking the spot where he would easily keep an eye on everyone coming or leaving the room, while Tsuna drummed the pads of his fingers on the table, across from him. An espresso was given to Reborn as soon as he was seated, without any input from him. Lips twitching, Tsuna glanced away and politely asked for a fruity tea. It was only when his request was granted, along with a plate of buccellatini, biscotti and cannoli, the Vongola members making themselves scarce, that he looked back at his seemingly relaxed Sun.

"Should I expect Vito Corleone or Michael?"

"Neither," Reborn answered, lips curling in faint amusement. "Nono is a category of his own." He took two biscotti, putting them down on his saucer. "Treat him with respect, as he will, but without subservience. Listen to his words, be wary of his thoughts and speak humbly. No matter how kind he appears, remember that he is the Boss of the most powerful Family."

Tsuna winced. "Lovely."

"'The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.'" Reborn quoted. "I doubt that Joseph Campbell had Mafia in mind, but his words ring true." He took a sip of his coffee, never breaking eye-contact with Tsuna, and carried on. "There is something that you want, wish with all the strength of your soul, and that, is your freedom. The only one who can offer you a chance away from any Family business, is Nono. To speak with him, you will have to break through your fear. Keep that in mind, and act consequently."

"I still will have a shadow beneath my feet," Tsuna quietly noted, looking away. "As you've pointed it out, my identity is known, and my life will keep being targeted by any viper seeking to overthrow Vongola."

"Nono will give you several options, but none that you will want to accept." Reborn waited until Tsuna glanced up at him again, and they locked gazes, abysses trapping into alluring coils. "There is still an opportunity for you, but it is you who must present it."

"A compromise," Tsuna slowly nodded. "I can compromise, but – "he hesitated, looking searchingly at the hitman. "I will," he solemnly finished, finding what he had been seeking.

Reborn didn't answer, but his lips curled into a smirk, impatient and gleefully knowing.

Two hours later, after an improvised hand-to-hand fight on the deck as their training for the morning that attracted many astonished looks from spectators and the following short rest, Tsuna and Reborn stood on the prow, watching the sea glitter beneath the rays of a mild sun and the approaching silhouette of a port. The hitman turned away first, watching the two Mafiosi charged with their protection squirm beneath his unwavering stare. Well-aware of the Sun's little game, Tsuna debated interfering for the sake of the Vongola members. He refrained, admitting that he felt some amusement as well to see them failing at keeping their composure.

There was a curious agitation in the air as the boat smoothly entered the port. Palermo was Vongola territory, and each member was well-aware of the fact. They were therefore relaxing as they fell back into the routine of mooring to the dock and split into different groups, some staying at the port and others vanishing into town. Yet, for the ones accompanying them to three black and sturdy cars, their shoulders were tense, as if expecting to be attacked any second. Tsuna didn't know if it was because there was still a risk that whoever attacked Nono's son would strike again, or if it was Reborn's presence who was intimidating and stressing them out.

"By the way," Tsuna suddenly wondered, sliding into the back seat and scooting over to let Reborn settle comfortably, "how's Nono's son?"

"Better," Oregano curtly replied, clutching the wheel tightly.

Tsuna rolled his eyes at the lack of elaboration but didn't insist. He smoothed the wrinkled on his tuxedo absently, feeling almost stuffy. He had kept his coat and scarf from Milan, deciding that they didn't look too odd on him, and reluctant to part with them. He had no such qualms with the trouser suit nor with the beret. As for Reborn, he was back into his usual suit and fedora, though his shirt and the band on his hat were both a shade of honey.

"Who will welcome us?" The hitman asked, cutting through the silence, and tilted his fedora down.

"Iemitsu," Oregano replied, speeding up as she followed the identical car in front of them. "He has requested to be the one to introduce Tsunayoshi to Nono."

Tsuna narrowed his eyes. "What about my mother, Nana? Is she alright?"

Oregano glanced at him through the rear-view mirror. "She's been living in the Mansion along with the core members of the Family. She's perfectly fine."

"It wasn't and still isn't Iemitsu's decision to take," Reborn sharply said, leaning forward and Tsuna distinctly felt that he was missing something important.

"Regardless, Nono accepted," Oregano's knuckles were white on the wheel, tensing at the displeasure radiating from the hitman.

Tsuna tilted his head towards Reborn, inquisitive and confused. Ignoring the presence of Oregano and her colleague, the Sun took advantage of the fact that the young Sky was unbuckled and pulled him on his lap. Tsuna didn't resist, though keenly aware of the shock of their audience, and locked his hands behind Reborn's neck, waiting.

"In a formal introduction," the hitman evenly started, rubbing absent circles on the small of Tsuna's back, "a man becomes a Mafioso. He leaves completely the civilian life and embraces his role as a member of the Family. Often, he follows the guidance of the one he has been introduced too, until he has climbed in ranks and can stand on his own. That's only for the Mafia aspect."

Tsuna felt irritation spark in his chest, and from the flinch he perceived in the man in the passenger seat, his Flames had intangibly flared up. Reborn didn't react, carrying on.

"Nono is a Sky, and when an Element, no matter which one, is introduced to him, he has the choice to take them under his wing. As nice as it sounds, it isn't for most Elements. To name a few, Clouds and Mists won't feel enticed and Skies perceive such actions as threats."

"To clarify, you're saying that if this introduction takes place, I will be forced into the Mafia world, Flames and wings bound," Tsuna stated bluntly. "Is it a misguided attempt to protect me or is he trying to kill me?"

"The former, I believe," Reborn deadpanned, failing to perceive any amusement. "I can rid the world from another idiot, you know," he offered, completely serious.

Tsuna contemplated it. Their audience grew high-strung at the casual threat and the suspended verdict the longer the silence stayed.

"Not yet," Tsuna finally decided, words cutting sharply the tension. "Mom still loves him, unfortunately." He waited for a heartbeat, then added thoughtfully, "you can always maim him, if it helps you to ease your frustration."

"I should be able to shoot him in the head without killing him," Reborn mused.

"Please, don't. If he's already committing countless mistakes with his brain intact, how worse will it be if he's missing pieces of it?"

Reborn relented. He wouldn't be responsible for the CEDEF boss' idiotic actions. Still, it was incredibly tempting to do something rash. Tsuna sighed, freeing a hand to rub his forehead.

"I can always refuse, no?"

"Usually, no," the hitman paused, considering. "In this case, however, you can exploit the guilt he felt over Sealing your Flames."

Oregano finally interfered, back straight and eyes narrowed in a disapproving glare, taking advantage of a stop. "You're balancing on the edge of treason, Reborn," she harshly snapped. "As long as your alliance and contract with Nono last – "

She was interrupted by a laugh, baritone and mocking, and she glanced at the rear-view mirror, meeting scornful abysses and burning ambers. She suddenly realized that she had missed one extremely important fact. If the earlier tension had seemed stifling, it was nothing compared to the heavy weight crushing her chest as she froze under their twin stares. She vaguely noted that her fellow CEDEF member was faintly shaking in his seat, wide eyes fixed on her with genuine horror.

"Do not speak of betrayal," Tsuna snarled at her, muscles tense with suppressed hostility, "when you have no understanding of what it truly means."

He twisted around, a ghost of a Flame flickering on his forehead as he narrowed glowing eyes at her.

"These men that you defend so ardently have both betrayed my mother and I in the worst ways possible," he viciously hissed. "You defend the very same men who had been nothing but harbingers of pain and misery in my life, and you dare accuse the only soul who had reached out to me of the same crimes?"

She flinched at his fury and tried to look back at the road, aware that the two cars between theirs were starting to find their immobility alarming, but she couldn't move.

"You dare accuse my Sun and my soulmate of betrayal?" His voice had shifted into an almost growl, the kind brunet vanishing as if he had never existed. "I should teach you – "

"I think that's enough, cuore mio," Reborn smacked a hand in front of his mouth, cutting him mid-threat, looking thoroughly pleased by his Sky's fierce protectiveness. "As lovely as it is to hear you defend my honor," his amusement was clear, "and as thrilling as it is to witness you striking terror, we don't have time to lose."

Tsuna reluctantly conceded and he turned away from the front with a displeased huff, grasping the hand that had released him. He leaned against Reborn, staring at their laced fingers and listening to the flattered thrum of Sun Flames and the barely audible low chuckles that the hitman gave at his reaction.

"You should resume," Reborn advised Oregano coolly, his free hand straying towards his gun as he realized that Tsuna wouldn't calm down soon. "In silence. I won't stop my Sky another time, neither will I hold back."

When, forty-five minutes later, they stopped in front of what looked more like an old castle than a mansion, the first to leave the car was the stiffly sitting Mafioso in the passenger seat. He flew from the passenger compartment and released a relieved sigh that was heard by nearly everyone in the vicinity. Oregano's moves were measured as she silenced the engine, and she purposefully waited that both Sky and Sun were out to slump against her seat, mentally exhausted by the veiled hostility that had persisted at her back. She decided that her boss could take care of himself and stayed inside, ignoring the questioning looks sent her way.

Meanwhile, Reborn led his still annoyed Sky towards the heavy and impressive front doors, his prowl deadly and his eyes glaring at the members observing them. Tsuna stayed close to him, but payed no attention to his surroundings, most of his apprehension reduced to ashes by his lingering annoyance. Despite the curiosity sparked in every member of the Family, they all stayed clear from the duo, recognizing the ominous menace cloaking their steps. Entering the hall, a foreboding hush fell at their arrival. It only thickened when Iemitsu appeared from a corridor, striding purposefully towards them.

Either oblivious to the atmosphere or deliberately ignoring it, the CEDEF boss grinned at his son. Tsuna twitched reflexively. Before anything could be said, Reborn smoothly whipped out his gun and shot straight at Iemitsu. He clicked his tongue, disappointed, when the bullet was evaded, lodging itself into a wall.

"As sharp as ever, Reborn," Iemitsu idly commented, unfazed by his brush with death, and brightened when he met Tsuna's eyes. "Hi son!" He chirped, "how was your trip?"

"Iemitsu," Tsuna greeted coldly, the temperature of the room seemingly dropping to match the weather outside.

"You can call me Dad, Tsuna," Iemitsu rubbed the back of his neck, the picture of sheepishness. "I know that I haven't been around lately – "

"Where's Mom?" Tsuna talked over him, loudly cutting him off.

Iemitsu paused, his earlier frivolous mood vanishing. His brown eyes darkened, and he straightened, suddenly towering over the younger son.

"She's fine," he answered, tone dismissive. "I'll take you to her once you've met Nono."

Tsuna gave him a flat look. "No," he plainly refused. "I don't care if he's a Mafia Don or the President of Earth, I came here first to see Mom, and see her, I will."

"It's admirable, truly, that you care so much," Iemitsu patronizingly said, after recuperating from his shock, "but – "

Tsuna averted his eyes, tuning him out. His gaze settled on the unfortunate ex-passenger who turned as white as a sheet. Without waiting any longer, he walked away, striding purposefully towards his target. Reborn was tremendously amused by the general astonishment, enjoying the unbecoming expression of vexation on Iemitsu's face.

"Sorry," Tsuna spoke as soon as he was within earshot, the Mafioso looking ready to bolt away, "but can you please guide me to where Sawada Nana resides?"

"Be reasonable," Iemitsu chided, striding towards them. "Nana can wait a little longer, it is only a matter of a few hours."

"Oh, really?" Tsuna glanced at his father, "then, he won't mind if I take the time to reconnect with my mother – that I haven't seen since August. After all, it's only a few hours. Anytime will do, won't it?"

"Besides, Nono understands the importance of family," Reborn chimed in, lips curling into a smirk, noting how miserable the Mafioso stuck with them looked. "Formalities can be taken care of later. Unless," his eyes gleamed, "you're hiding something important from us."

Tsuna recognized the subtle prompting in the veiled suggestion, offering a chance at Iemitsu. A chance to avoid an argument in front of Nono. His intervention had not been appreciated, but he didn't need to learn that in the presence of his boss.

"Very well," Iemitsu yielded, sighing as if Tsuna was behaving like an immature child. "I will be waiting for you in Nono's office."

Tsuna didn't say anything, stonily staring at him, wrestling down the bitter disappointment in his stomach. Reborn narrowed his eyes, disapproving but not surprised. He then turned to Tsuna, softening almost unnoticeably, "let's get you to your mother."

The Mafioso's shoulders slumped when two pair of eyes snapped to him expectantly. With as much grace as one could muster when thrown to the sharks, he obediently guided the terrifying duo towards the guest rooms, located away from the main wing. Tsuna kept silent during the walk, only slipping his hand in Reborn's once they reached the most deserted corridors. He barely looked at the paintings, furniture or vases, frowning at something only he could see above their guide's shoulders. They stopped in front of an inconspicuous wooden door, with brass handles, and the Mafioso hurried away.

Tsuna felt his shoulder relax, his bond with his mother thrumming at the proximity after a prolonged distance. He squeezed Reborn's hand, both to reassure his soulmate and to draw courage, and with a decisive huff, knocked. Hurried footsteps could be heard seconds before the door was thrown open. Startled, Tsuna twitched back, eyes wide at the exuberance of his ordinarily calm mother. He was promptly hugged tightly, his breath escaping him with a wheeze. Beside him, he could hear Reborn chuckling at his misery.

The sound surprised Nana who loosened her bear hold to glance curiously at the dark man with her son. She appraised him with hawk-like eyes, glancing back and forth between Tsuna and the mysterious figure. Tsuna stiffened against her, suddenly struck by panic.

"Tsu-kun," she smiled at him and he swallowed nervously, "who is this gentleman?"

Tsuna slowly pulled away. "Mom, he – uh," he paused, forcing himself to take a deep breath to get a grip on his nerves.

He took a step back, and he flicked his eyes at Reborn first. He would begin by the easiest.

"Reborn," he gave his Sun a smile that betrayed all of his uncertainty and apprehension, "this is my Mom, Nana." He then turned to his mother, barely hearing Reborn's silky and suave greeting above the roaring of blood in his ears, "Mum, this is Reborn, my soulmate." He gave her a meaningful look, stating, "he knows."

"Nice to meet you," she responded politely, then beckoned them inside, with a "where are my manners? Please, come in, come in."

They shuffled inside, and Nana closed the door. Tsuna tried not to flinch at the discreet click of the door, pushing away the thought that they were trapped with a dangerous tiger. From the way Reborn marked a pause, Tsuna could safely assume that the impression was shared.

"Please, sit down," Nana gestured delicately towards the couch. "Do you want some tea? Biscuits, perhaps?"

"That would be great, thanks, Mom," Tsuna swiftly intervened, unconsciously posting himself slightly in front of Reborn. "How have you been?"

She smiled at him, tapping his cheek fondly. "Nice try, dearie, but you're not escaping this conversation."

"Mom," Tsuna helplessly protested.

"Sit," she added with a pointed look.

Sighing, Tsuna obeyed, pulling Reborn along with him. They sat on the couch while Nana disappeared briefly out of the room, looking for a maid or a butler to bring what she needed. She came back, smiling sweetly, and slid gracefully into an armchair, strategically placed in front of them, back to the windows, the twilight casting shadows on her features. Reborn crossed his leg over his knee, the epitome of composure, while Tsuna bit the inside of his cheek, beyond nervous.

"The tea shouldn't take too long," she assured them with a faint apologetic tone, and it sounded way too menacing.

Tsuna watched his mother stare unblinkingly at Reborn, smile unwavering, and felt as if they were on the verge of being thoroughly interrogated on crimes they hadn't committed but felt nevertheless guilty for. He knew that it would begin as soon as the tea was served, and so, decided to pull the rug out of her feet. With a little smile on his face, he made his point with a language the three of them knew best. Though, he would tweak a few words.

"I'm not perfect, Mom," he began, locking eyes with her and staring back as earnestly as he could. "This man I've met, he isn't perfect either, but the question – the important question is whether or not we're perfect for each other." He leaned forward, "and the only way for us to find out, is to give it a shot."

Her eyes softened, and she smiled at him fondly. However, she didn't relax. "And yet," she replied, "we both know that it isn't that simple."

"It is," Tsuna quietly rectified. "The uncertainty, the will to nevertheless try, the frustration and the compromises, the desire to make it work, the affection and the little things, every couple faces the same challenges and learns whether or not it's worth it."

"The consequences are starkly different," she frowned, smile vanishing like a forgotten dream.

"It isn't the bond that calls anguish and grief," Tsuna softly murmured, lips twitching into a sad smile. "It isn't the bond that causes yearning and languor. A lover may perish from loneliness without the traumatic ripping of a soul bond. It is the loss of love that weighs a life down."

Nana looked pained, but she persisted, "bondless – bondless can survive the absence. We don't."

"And yet," Tsuna stood up and knelt beside her, "if there is one thing in this world I would gladly offer my life for, then it would be for love."

She released an odd sound, before sighing. "You've already made your choice, haven't you, Tsu-kun?"

He nodded. She cupped his face between her hands, and she dropped a kiss on his forehead. She smiled, brushing a rebellious lock of his hair away. She would worry, inevitably, but she shouldn't feel regretful. In the end, it was Tsuna who had embraced this path, knowingly, and all she could do, was support him as she had always done.

Reborn, who had kept cautiously silent, unfurled and smoothly got up. Both Tsuna and Nana looked up, the former smiling fondly without even noticing and the latter blatantly staring down at him, challenging.

"Nana-san," he started, because the absence of Sawada in the earlier presentation was glaring, tone thrumming with quiet certainty, "this wicked soul that is I would like to share its most important confidence with you."

He didn't smirk, didn't smile, didn't frown, but his expression didn't smooth, didn't blank. He merely dropped the masks, and suddenly, there was heart-wrenching sadness. He waited until Nana nodded, granting permission, before speaking.

"Ever since I've been old enough to understand words, I've been told that I shouldn't be alive, that I was a freak and an aberration. I believed them when I was a child, I hated them when I was a teen and I let them shape me into the killer that I am today. Kindness had vanished along my Mama's smile when she sighed her last breath. For years, I've roamed the lands, echoes of memories dogging my steps and exacting a hateful revenge that has never been meaningful."

Reborn brushed his fingers against Tsuna's cheekbone, feeling his Sky Flames flare and twist in response to an old wound, seeking to heal and to comfort, answering to the unspoken plea of their owner. The hitman tightly held in his own Flames, knowing that he would lose his train of thought otherwise.

"Meeting Tsuna was possibly the most painful miracle that has ever graced this earth. The forsaken kindness and warmth were luring me back, whispers of a home long gone, embodied into the gentlest soul I have ever met. I remembered the words, I waited for them to come back, but I didn't hear them again and instead, I found understanding, a knowing pained understanding. Someone was suffering, someone bright and kind, undeserving any cruelty, was suffering. What else could I do, but offer reassurances and companionship? I watched, I stayed, I cared, and, in the end, I fell."

The abysses trapped into his eyes ceased their alluring entrapment, conceding to unveil gleaming obsidian, incredibly fond.

"It was not sudden, and it was not harsh. It was not a shadow lurking, a shiver creeping up my spine and capturing me. It was progressive, like the growth of a rose under tender care. It was welcome, like a murmured comfort for a weary heart. Most of all, it was irreversible, like the passing of time and the triumph of life."

Reborn paused, catching sight of Tsuna's expression of wonder, unaware that a few tears had escaped him. He wiped them away with his thumb, lips twitching in an almost smile, his affection unconcealed in his eyes.

"I read somewhere that loving is sacrificing yourself, to your death, to save your beloved. I don't share this opinion. When you've been told all your life that your death will be celebrated, and you found this one soul who only wants you to live, you do everything in your power to live with them. Living alongside your beloved, I think, is loving."

He looked back at Nana and was taken aback when he noticed that her eyes were brimming with tears. He almost evaded when she suddenly launched herself at him, suppressing hard-earned reflexes, and stood stiffly when she hugged him tightly, squeezing his breath out of his lungs. Reborn glanced at Tsuna, openly bemused, when he heard his Sky laughed, a bit wetly, a bit chocked. Tsuna hiccupped, the high-pitched sound cutting through and startling him into silence.

Nana released Reborn when she perceived the strained quietness, smiling at them both.

"Tsuna has that effect on people," she confided. "He is precious, and I am glad that you understand how much he is. I doubt that you will ever hurt him, but if you do, I will personally pluck out these lovely eyes of yours and cook them to you," she sweetly promised him.

"Mom!" Tsuna croaked out, horrified.

"I will keep that in mind," Reborn answered gravely, looking approving even.

"Now that we're understood," Nana ignored her son's reaction, and her smile softened into something more genuine and gently, "welcome in the family, Reborn-kun."

They ended up staying another hour, drinking tea and eating biscuits, while catching up – Tsuna beaming at his mother about the return of the Gift, as well as giving her the presents they had forgotten by the door outside – and chatting about nothing and everything, the three of them sharing the couch, with Tsuna curled up against Reborn, their Flames entwined tightly and flickering in sync on an unheard rhythm.

In the corridor, cozily alight with electrical lamps, shutters and curtains hiding the windows, Tsuna leaned against the wall, shoulders slumping. He felt terrible, constantly assaulting by everyone's moods and emotions, few relaxed and most either tense or excited. He released a blissful sigh when Reborn pressed a hand, Sun Flames tingling on his skin, to appease his migraine. The Sun couldn't do much, as the exhaustion was a mix of mental and emotional. Tsuna nevertheless hummed contentedly at the Flames tinkling his nerves, revigorated somewhat.

"I'm glad," he murmured, "that Mom welcomed you."

"I am as well," Reborn answered as softly, trailing a path of Flames on his cheek.

Tsuna suddenly emitted a distressed noise from the back of his noise, the gesture bringing him back to Reborn's quiet confessions, still swirling in circles in his mind. He pulled on Reborn's loose tie and tangled his fingers in the fine fabric, his other hand cupping the back of the hitman's neck, brushing against short black hair. Reborn mirrored him, though one of his forearm leaned on the wall behind Tsuna, pushing him up. Gently, Tsuna rested his forehead against Reborn's, and they breathed slowly, following the same pattern, silent. Sky Flames intangibly swirled around them, wrapping and cocooning them into the warmest hug they could give. Reborn didn't protest, expecting such reactions from his younger lover, and leaned further down.

The kiss was chaste, soothing lingering despair with comforting kindness. With a sigh, Tsuna released his tight hold on the fabric, smoothing down any wrinkles.

"We can't postpone it any further, can we?" He mumbled into his Sun's firm chest.

Reborn hummed in answer, slowly pulling away. "Are you ready?" He asked instead, dark eyes assessing his Sky.

"Not really," Tsuna felt his lips twitch into an approximate smile, "but it's a necessary step. The sooner we pass it, the sooner we'll leave."

The door they had just passed through was opened, a cheerful and humming Nana softly closing it behind her. She ignored the look both men exchanged, instead putting her left hand in the crook of Reborn's elbow and trapping Tsuna's arm with her other one.

"Would you terribly mind keeping me company as we walk, gentlemen?" Nana asked with a smile.

"It will be our pleasure," Reborn immediately agreed, falling into the role.

Tsuna certainly didn't mind spending stolen time with his mother, especially if it meant avoiding Iemitsu for a little while longer. They slowly made their way back towards the busiest parts of the Manor, whatever conversation they tried to keep dwindling into near silence. As they passed by another room that Tsuna couldn't begin to guess its use, Nana squeezed his forearm to draw his attention back on her.

"I know," she stated, voice even but her eyes were shining with unhidden sadness.

"You know?" Tsuna repeated, trying to determine which fact she was speaking about, between the Mafia, the Flames, their plan…

"Did he finally make amends honorable?" Reborn asked, his tone suggesting that he did not believe it.

Nana pursed her lips. "No, he let me figure everything out. It wasn't complicated once I was welcomed here. I confronted him, expecting apologies at the very least. Instead, I received weak justifications and the distinct impression that he wouldn't try to make amends."

Tsuna frowned, irritated Iemitsu's behavior. It was infuriating how he persisted in keeping Nana in the dark, when ignorance was harmful, and the truth would be preferable, even as unwelcome as reality was.

"I learned about the situation," she accented the word with something very close to sarcasm, "by coaxing the details from the employees and other members of the," she paused then intoned with a perfect accent, "Famiglia. It reminds me that I have to thank your uncle, Tsuna," she added absently. "He was perfectly agreeable to me, answering any of my questions. I liked his company, such a shame that he had to leave to track down the culprits of this mess."

"Uncle?" Tsuna parroted, confused.

"Xanxus," Reborn clarified for him, tone entirely too amused. "I wouldn't be surprised," he stated plainly, but without elaborating.

He chuckled at Tsuna's stunned expression, having heard from the hitman about the leader of the Varia and his notable temper and exploits.

"Tsu-kun," Nana softly called his focus back on her, "I want you to know that I'm proud of you, dearie, no matter what."

Tsuna pulled them all into a halt, watching his mother intently. "Mom," he let a small smile slip on his lips, "I don't intend on joining this world. I'm not interested in the Mafia and I frankly don't want to be any part of it. Unfortunately, my lineage alone paints a target on my back. I can't leave the Underworld completely, but I can and I will remain at its edges."

Nana watched them both, intensely and assessing. She smiled, faintly. They had already plotted their way out, hadn't they?

"You already know what you have to do, then," she murmured, then waved at a nearby maid, softly requesting to her to be guided to the kitchens – she wanted to help and share the evening with the cooks. She turned back to them, stepping back with an approving smile. "Good luck, my sweets."

Tsuna frowned as she left, the thought that she might be lonelier here, nearer to her husband, creeping into his mind, worrying him. He nevertheless turned away to follow Reborn, resolutely focusing on the task ahead. They ignored every single person they passed by, waving through curiosity and hostility alike with an ease born from experience. They only stopped when they found Iemitsu pacing agitatedly in front of a double door, intent on burning a hole through the parquet.

"Finally," Iemitsu huffed as he caught sight of them. "Dinner has been delayed when it became apparent that you wouldn't appear," he added disapprovingly.

Tsuna rolled his eyes, making no effort to hide. Reborn scoffed, tilting his fedora up.

"Nono wouldn't have waited if you'd let me contact him as I always do when I request a meeting," he pointed out, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. "You decided on the date and hour to match your schemes."

Iemitsu ignored his remarks, knocking on the door and following an established pattern. He opened and let them inside at Nono's order, closing it softly behind him. Tsuna immediately tensed when his suspicions were confirmed. He had sensed five people in the room before they entered. He instantly recognized Nono whose appearance hadn't changed much – aside from the addition of wrinkles and grey hair – but the four others were unfamiliar. From appearance and behavior alone, he could tell that the two men behind Nono were core members, two Elements of the old Sky. The scowling man with scars and clothes starkly different from the suits everyone was wearing, was Nana's newly-discovered friend, Xanxus. It could only mean that the Sky seated on the couch, expression smooth but unable to hide his exhaustion, was Nono's surviving heir. Iemitsu paused half-way between Tsuna and Nono's desk, standing slightly to the side.

Five Skies in a room, what could go wrong, Tsuna sarcastically wondered.

"Nono," Reborn broke first the silence, tilting his head respectfully, then glanced at the room, adding with a lazy smirk, "if I didn't know better, I would believe that we have been ambushed. After all, this is quite the welcome for a civilian."

Nono's Elements stiffened at the not-quite menace in his tone. Xanxus looked slightly less bored, fixing an unnerving stare at them.

"Reborn," Nono warmly greeted him, smiling kindly. "I am pleased to see you well. I trust that the past few months weren't too strenuous."

"On the contrary, they were greatly enjoyable," he replied sarcastically, though anyone knowing him – or possessing a decent Hyper Intuition – would hear the sincerity.

There was another lull. It became evident for Tsuna that they were waiting for the hitman to do or say something, but Reborn didn't move, staying close to him. It was Iemitsu who reacted first, breaking through the suffocating tension.

"Thank you, Reborn, for your work," he forcibly declared, sounding both grateful and annoyed. "As always, Vongola has a meal and a room for you, should you choose to stay the night. I'm afraid, however, that the matters that we will discuss next concern exclusively the Family."

"Anything involving my Sky is my business," Reborn retorted without missing a beat, smirking sinisterly at Iemitsu.

Someone chocked on their breath, emitting an incredulous sound. The Sky heir started, staring at Tsuna with blatant disbelief while Xanxus leaned against the wall, a smirk of his own pulling at the corners of his lips. Nono didn't react, merely looking on with curiosity. By far, Iemitsu's reaction was the most noticeable, as he turned livid until his cheeks reddened with outrage.

"Tsuna is not your Sky," he instantly snarled, protectively.

Reborn cocked an eyebrow, condescending and mocking. "Tsuna is my Sky," he articulated slowly and with great care. "I will not repeat myself. I will not engage into a pointless verbal fight worthy of a five-year-old to encourage your denial either. If you do persist, I will take offense on behalf of my Sky."

"Iemitsu," Nono intervened when it became evident that Iemitsu would pursue the argument, "Reborn speaks of the truth, and neither would he make light of such a matter. Denying their Bond any further would be an insult."

Tsuna refrained from snorting at the phrasing, amused despite himself. He nevertheless was growing tired of being spoken of as if he wasn't in the room. If he understood correctly the subtle etiquette that Mafiosi seemed to follow in introductions or initiations, the aspirant was to keep silent until addressed, and to refrain from speaking directly to the Mafioso he was introduced to. Considering that Tsuna was not aiming to be accepted in any Family, he decided that smashing the etiquette would communicate the message nicely enough.

"It's nice to see you again, Grandpa," Tsuna suddenly spoke up, taking a step forward and smiling just as kindly, going for the old and almost forgotten endearment. He deliberately glanced at both the Sky heir – and Xanxus, obeying to the nudge of his Intuition – to include them into his following words, "I'm sorry for your loss."

The tragedy might have occurred months ago, Tsuna didn't need his Gift to know that it was still fresh in their minds and hearts.

"Thank you, Tsunayoshi," Nono simply replied, speaking for the two others who had both averted their eyes. "I regret that the circumstances led to your involvement with our rivals. On behalf of the Family, I present my sincerest apologies." He didn't wait for any acknowledgment, swiftly carrying on, "it is why, and I believe your father agrees, that we wish for you to remain among us. Your safety should not be a matter to be dismissed."

That was it. The start of the negotiations. Behind him, Reborn crossed his arms, fingers brushing against his concealed holsters. Tsuna kept his eyes firmly on Nono, refusing to meet Iemitsu's expectant gaze.

"I am flattered that you hold me in regards high enough to invite me among yours," Tsuna slowly began, keeping in mind that he was dealing with a Don, "but I will have to decline."

He took vindictive satisfaction in the shock his words caused.

"Tsuna," Iemitsu took one step forward, composed and smiling slightly in indulgence, "it would be wise for you to think slightly about the situation. You are currently known as a potential candidate to inherit after Federico," or Nono, though he did not say, "if anything was to happen – "

"So, you're suggesting that I place my protection, safety or rather, really, my life, in the hands of the very same people who endangered it?" Tsuna sweetly cut him off, startlingly alike his mother. "The very same ones who almost got me killed?"

"Unfortunately, a rat managed to infiltrate our ranks and took the opportunity to leak a few of our secrets," Iemitsu sounded more irritated in the fact that said agent succeeded in bypassing the security to steal information rather than on the theft – and the deadly consequences – itself. "However, we took great care in cleaning house. It shouldn't happen again."

Tsuna shot him an incredulous look, absently hearing Xanxus scoffing at the CEDEF boss.

"Even I, an outsider, know that you can't keep this promise," Tsuna bluntly told him. "You can't promise that a spy or a corrupted member won't try to stab any of you in the back. And yet, you're lying to my face to convince me to place my trust in Vongola, the very same organization that has the idiocy of keeping accessible files on information supposed to be top secret?" At Iemitsu's look, Tsuna blurted, exasperated, "you had to send Reborn to cover your blunder! You hired Reborn, the number one hitman, to babysit a civilian because you suck at erasing sensitive information!"

Federico had the most peculiar expression on his face, as if he couldn't decide if he was vexed by the insinuation or amused that he was, essentially, right on the last point. Xanxus had no qualm in snorting in agreement.

"You found a Sun out of the ordeal," Nono's Element – a Storm – pointed out, trying for reasonable but passing as annoyed. "And being a part of Vongola is more than mere protection. It's opportu – "

"Excuse me?" Tsuna hissed at him, eyes instantly melting into glowing amber. "Are you implying that I should be grateful that you committed the mistake of telling the world of my existence because now, I have a Sun? "

Nono winced and sighed heavily, his hopes that his misguided action wouldn't come up crushed into unrecognizable pieces.

"Are you telling me that living with the constant fear that the next face you will meet is the one of your assassin, that living without knowing if the most important person in your fucking world is ever going to survive long enough to see you again, that living like a fucking tracked rabbit is worth it because I finally have an Element?" Tsuna snarled, his Flames wildly flickering but not yet manifesting. "Reborn is my saving grace, and I owe him more than my life, but he wouldn't have to Bond with an almost broken Sky if Vongola hadn't Sealed me in the first place!"

He shut his mouth with an audible click, already regretting losing his temper. He shouldn't have exploded like that, not when he wanted to present his proposition reasonably and level-headedly to appeal to their own logical mind. He had felt the bitterness bubbling closer and closer to his throat, until his hurt and reproaches burst through his lips without his control. He shut his eyes, slowing down consciously his breathing.

"Tsuna," Iemitsu carefully started in a soothing voice, cutting through the tense silence, "you must understand that it was done for your protection. A child – a civilian child without control on his Dying Will Flames is a danger to himself and to the others."

Tsuna snapped his eyes open, staring at him in disbelief. "What."

"Bullshit!" Xanxus snarled, crossing his arms on his chest, fingers curling into fists. "Flames aren't made to be Sealed, trash. You condemned a Sky to solitude and that's the equivalent of a death sentence, dumbass!"

"My protection?" Tsuna repeated, incredulous. "You – Xanxus is right, damn it, you threw me to the freaking wolves with your intervention! I was defenseless against bullies, accidents, muggers, even my own thoughts, and you dare to tell me that it was for my sake?"

He let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it.

"Well, you know what, Iemitsu," he continued mockingly, tauntingly, "each and every one of your actions done to protect me only had the opposite effect! You genuinely believed that you were doing the right thing, but guess what? You almost sent me into an early grace every fucking time!"

Iemitsu looked pained, his shoulders slumping at the harshness of his son's terrible but truthful accusations. And Tsuna, looking at the suddenly deflated figure of the man who was his father, who had tried his very best to protect a family that he deeply loved, from the bottom of his heart and soul, only felt exhausted. Tsuna understood, he understood, and he couldn't hate, he couldn't resent, but he could grieve for the lost opportunities. The anger leaving him just as suddenly as it had appeared left him bone-weary and wishing to be elsewhere, anywhere, as long as he had a cup of tea and the comforting presence of an ever patient Reborn.

He turned to Nono, voice quiet. "I can't, Grandpa. Vongola isn't and will never be a home that I can trust, thrive in and rest with. I appreciate your concern, truly, but I haven't – I can't stay. I'm not Mafia, never mind that I'm now stuck into this world, but I will live on my own terms with the people I know who accept me as I am, who I trust not to betray me and who will have me."

Nono inclined his head, "very well. Would you mind, to appease the heart of an old man, to tell us where you will dwell? The information will not leave the place and we won't use it to try and convince you to change your mind."

Tsuna felt his lips twitch, curling into a fond smile without his input, as he took a step back, away from Nono and Iemitsu, closer to Reborn. "'When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody," he quoted softly, "you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.'"

Reborn, recognizing the lines, let a faint smile grace his lips briefly.

"I see," Nono merely responded, a knowing look entering his eyes. "I can only wish you both una buona fortuna."

Tsuna just smiled, relaxing when Reborn wrapped an arm around his waist and tipped his head slightly down in acknowledgment. Before leaving, Tsuna turned to Iemitsu one last time.

"Mom has always suspected, always perceived your secrets, and the only reason that it has taken so much time for her to know, is the reason why she has and is still waiting for you to stop your bullshit and talk to her. She gave you a chance all these years ago, and she had yet to take it back. Stop being a coward and do something. Otherwise, you will lose everything."

Tsuna narrowed amber eyes at him, Flames flicking in his gaze.

"If you do," he solemnly swore, "I will ensure that you live long enough to regret it."

He then smiled sweetly at the room, causing a chill to run down everyone's spine, and left with Reborn – without looking back.

Future

Leaning his forehead on his left hand, mouth pulled into a focused frown, Tsuna absently twirled his pencil with his fingers as he scanned a pile of papers written in what could only be Old Norse, elbow planted on the desk. Hoppípolla, taken from a CD given to them by an enamored Nana, was playing softly, helping him concentrate. A knock at the open door startled him, and he flinched, his pencil flying away from him to roll quietly against the leg of their bed. Tsuna huffed at the low chuckle his reaction provoked, and stretched his arms and back like a cat, still on his chair.

"Welcome back," he beamed at Reborn, head upside down as the hitman prowled closer. "Is that mail?" He asked curiously as he noticed several envelopes, squinting at them.

"I still wonder how Elvar managed to get our address," Reborn handed him over one of them, a familiar handwriting sprawled on it. "No one knows where we are."

Tsuna shrugged, smiling as he took it. "I stand by what I said. He must be Luce's cousin or something."

He laughed at Reborn's deadpan look, snapping his head up and leaning away in anticipation to the swipe. He hummed as he nonchalantly opened a drawer, taking out a short knife, no longer questioning why the house was littered with concealed weapons.

"How's Fon?" He inquired, slitting the envelope neatly.

"As frustrating as ever," Reborn idly replied, shuffling through the rest of their mail.

He wandered away, leaving the bedroom to sit in the couch in their living-room. It was only a matter of a few steps, and he glanced away from his letters to witness their chameleon – Leon, because they felt nostalgic and they had questionable humor sometimes – caught a calcium-dusted grasshopper with a timely flick of his tongue.

"He's a real dead shot, isn't he?" Tsuna commented, entering the room in time to see it, a grin splitting his face in two.

"I expect nothing less," Reborn scoffed, then beckoned him closer. "Good news?"

"Skull's inviting us in his house!" Tsuna almost jumped in his Sun's lap with how excited he was. "The very same one we stayed for several months." Sensing Reborn's next question, he tackled on, slyly, "of course, there won't be anyone but us. Alone."

Reborn hummed in interest, drawing him closer until Tsuna was half-way into his lap. "Is that so?"

"We can even take Leon with us," Tsuna coaxed him further, leaning forward until his hands were flat against his lover's chest, fingers tracing idle patterns.

"I did say that I would take you back there, didn't I," Reborn trailed his hands on his Sky's back, smiling in fond amusement.

Tsuna whooped in joy, Flames thrumming with his excitement. "It will be even better without people trying to kill us at every – "

His words and resulting laughter were promptly muffled and swallowed as Reborn coaxed him further down into his embrace, stealing his breath away and burying his hand in spiky brown locks.

The letters fluttered and fell, forgotten and silent, blue inked words faintly gleaming in the sunlight.

A/N: Now that I think about it, I do tend to make Tsuna/Reborn travel a lot, huh. Anyway, I hope it was different enough from another of my one-shots (Meetings shares common themes, after all) to make this one enjoyable. It took me ages to complete this obsession, and I think – think – that the research was just as time-consuming as writing it, and some of them don't even appear. Researches: wonderful stuff that you won't ever use again, or ever.

Yes, communication is Key.

By the by, I have no medical experience or knowledge, but if anyone of you receives an injury like Tsuna in Venice, do not treat your wound yourself. A shard of this length, irregularly cut and with enough bacteria to fill a bathtub, should be taken care of at a hospital or with a physician. It can cause terrible damage to your muscles, nerves, blood vessels and even your bones, if untreated, so best not to imitate Tsuna or Reborn.

For anyone's curious (or bored), you can find a few details below.

Otherwise, thanks for surviving – I mean, reading and don't hesitate to point out any mistakes!

See you next time~

Notes: Where to begin?

Names:

Leon: 1. Leon, the Professional (1994). Played by Jean Reno. 2. Leon, the chameleon of KHR (of course). 3. Convenience, Leon exists in this form in several languages, including but not limited to French and English.

Shinzō: Heart (the organ).

Matilda: A character from Leon, the Professional (1994).

Ventura: Lino Ventura, a famous actor (Italian and French) who, among other films, played important roles in gangster movies. He spent most of his cinematic career in France, though he was born in Italy, was bilingual, etc.

Perrin: From Le Grand Blond avec une chaussure noire (or The Tall Blond with one Black Shoe, when translated) in 1972. François Perrin is one of the main characters.

Vito Corleone and Michael Corleone: (Main) characters from The Godfather trilogy (1972-1974-1990).

Several meanings for each of them, but some were chosen, whether Irish, English or Old Norse:

Astrid: Beauty, divinely so.

Aodh: Flame.
Sloane: Warrior.
Morna: Merry.
Frowin: The wise friend.
Conall: Powerful wolf.
Quinn: Wise.
Galen: Calm, peaceful.
Nora: Light.

Elvar: Elf Warrior.

Fiorentini: From Wasabi (2001 in France and 2002 in Japan). Hubert Fiorentini is the main character. As pointed out, Jean Reno played this role.

Campana: From Le Jaguar (1996). Jean Reno played Jean Campana.

Artemisia: 1. From the Greek Goddess of Hunt (not limited to), Artemis. 2. From Artemisia Gentileschi, an Italian Baroque painter. Here, she's a Eurasian Hobby – I know, the colors don't match with the only picture we have of the Vongola Messenger Bird (alive) but Eurasian Hobbies are among the fastest birds in flight. Just – why not?

Nicknames:

Petit: Little one, from the adjective petit (little).

Piccolino: Little, little one, from the adjective piccolo.
Cuore mio: My heart.

Locations:

All towns (and touristic spots) exist, in every country I mention (like, the one they're ambushed by the Peugeot in France, just after crossing the Mont-Blanc Tunnel – and yes, I checked, the works were finished – it's called Bourg-en-Bresse). Never gone to most of them, unfortunately. However, the houses, Skull's or Uncle's for example, don't exist. I plucked them out of a field of grass, most of the times.

All the hotels are based on existing ones, whether they're in Italy or in Iceland.

Kilkenny does have its fair share of festivals. The ceramics and jewelry are created by local artisans, including pottery and textiles. The described pieces (bracelets) exist, though they don't have swirls but scorpions.

The bar in Milan and the guys (with the scar and his friend) are a reference to the first chapter of KHR. Unexpectedly cannon-ish. The real location is unknown, aside from being in Italy.

As for Elvar's photos, it is a reference to the construction of a hydroelectric dam whose works started in 2003 and is operational since 2009. The project caused quite its share of debates. The question of the disastrous environmental impact is an issue still raised in Iceland, as projects of dams are regularly brought forth. Omar Ragnarsson, to name only one well-known name, is a writer and a journalist (among other jobs) who takes photos and does video reportage to, you know, keep the beautiful Icelandic landscapes intact. Some of his works, in collaboration with journalists from other countries like France or Germany, are available on the Internet, if interested.

Vehicles:

Reborn's (stolen) car in Venice: Fiat 124 Sport Spider (1966).
Reborn's car (traded): (red) De la Chapelle, type Roadster of the 60's.
Reborn's bike: Yamaha XJ 600 Diversion Naked (1992).

Ferry from Brittany: Pont-Aven (2004).

Ma's and Da's car: Vauxhall Cresta PB (1965), type saloon, post-facelift.
Conall's car: Ford Granada Mark III 24v Cosworth (1991-3).
Nora's car: Mini Mark VII (2000).

Spanner's car: Austin Fairway (1999), basically, a black cab of London.

Reborn's (rented) car in Iceland: Nissan Murano (2003).
Reborn's car in Milan: Alfa Romeo 166 (2004).

Books:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813).

If I recall correctly, four of the Harry Potter saga by J.K. Rowling were already out, at least in Great Britain. As for Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, (same author), it was in 2001.

Njál's Saga and Egil's Saga are often bought by tourists. Independent People by Halldór Laxness is highly recommended as an interesting reading.

Quotes:

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, (2003), by Gandalf, "A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to."

Good Will Hunting, (1997), by Sean Maguire, "You're not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense, this girl you've met, she isn't perfect either. But the question is whether or not you're perfect for each other. That's the whole deal. That's what intimacy is all about. Now, you can know everything in the world, sport, but the only way you're finding out that one is by giving it a shot."

When Harry Met Sally, (1989), by Harry Burns, "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Icelandic words:

Skrimsli means monsters, including sea monsters.
Álfhól: small wooden houses built by people for hidden folks (elves).
Lopapeysa: A wool sweater.
Hoppípolla belongs to the group Sigur Rós. Some of you might recognize Jónsi as he is part of the band.

Japanese details:

When Tsuna is speaking of driving license, he admits that he has one. In this, he has a motorcycle license permitting him to drive ordinary (any motorcycle with engine displacement over 50cc) bikes. You know, a quick reference to the Future Arc.

猫をかぶる: To wear a cat on one's head, apparently meaning, 'you're hiding your claws and pretending to be a nice, harmless person.'

Cooking:

Everything from names, recipes, drinks, for each country, comes from the Internet (tips, blogs, articles, etc).

Flowers meaning:

For the flowers meaning: Removing spaces and § should do: http § : / § www . § language § of § flowers . § com / § flower § meaning . § htm

Fun fact: Amusingly enough, Assassin's Creed II was useful. There is a simplified and altered map of Venice, after all, but close enough from reality to be used. The pilot, Rosa, vaguely comes from there, as well.

Right, so, these should be most of the details. The rest is about timelines, accuracy and boring technical coherence. Some laws are blatantly ignored, and the territorial securities are no longer so lax nowadays.