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The Many Facets Of Kyouya

Chapter Text

"Why do you all keep doing that?" Kyouya finally asks one day after yet another metaphor about him being more animal than human.

Tsuna blinks. "Um, it just kind of happens."

"You keep calling people herbivores and saying you'll bite them to death," Hayato explains further.

Kyouya raises an eyebrow. "Would you prefer I title you all as incompetent morons too stupid to waste air on, and proclaim how I'm going to use blunt force trauma indiscriminately to shatter bones and mash up your organs until either you can't scream anymore or I get bored?"

Takeshi's smile wavers.

"We'll stop," Lambo squeaks. "Won't we, everyone?"

"I don't know," Mukuro muses with a smirk. "It's kind of a habit now."

Someone fires a blast of flame at an injured Tsuna and while everyone lurches forward desperately to throw themselves in the path of the attack, Kyouya calmly deploys his tonfa chain and wraps it around a leg, flinging the boss out of the blast trajectory and through a wall.

"The fuck was that?!" Hayato snaps. "Your shitty rescue probably just injured him more than the other guy ever managed."

Kyouya raises an eyebrow. "You thought I was rescuing him?"

"…Well, when you say that, I'm reconsidering," Takeshi speaks up and then looks concerned when Kyouya stalks over to Tsuna. "Whoa, wait a minute, the bad guy is over there."

Kyouya ignores the herbivore and walks over to the broken wall where he reaches in and pulls out a barely conscious Tsuna. Hayato splutters and rages in the background, held back by the enemies that try to swarm the Storm.

"Herbivore," Kyouya says with a little shake to try and focus the Vongola boss. "What have I said about waking me up?"

"Not… to…" Tsuna rasps out in pain.

"And what have you done?" Kyouya continues with a disappointed tone.


"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Hayato roars.

"How are you so strong?" Takeshi asks in wonder after Kyouya knocks yet another opponent across the room.

"Sheer will power," Kyouya says simply.

Takeshi pauses. "Was that a joke?"

"No." Kyouya lifts his tonfas slightly and shrugs. "I'm not even sure if I'm using these correctly."

Kyouya staggers into the room, a blanket obscuring everything but his head and one hand that holds a wad of tissues up to his nose. He stumbles over to Mukuro and calmly leans over, his tissue hand disappearing into his blanket-cloak.

Mukuro raises an eyebrow. "You don't deal well with being sick, do y-"

Kyouya spits into Mukuro mouth.

Mukuro chokes and automatically swallows the infected spit. Then realisation washes over his expression, quickly followed by horror. Kyouya straightens up as Mukuro hunches forward, dry heaving in disgust.

"If I have to suffer through this, then so do you," Kyouya mutters before wobbling away again.

"Who the fuck gave Kyouya a fighter jet?!" Tsuna roared, grabbing the person closest to him and shaking them. "He's bad enough on the ground! No one needs a flying Hibari - that is the opposite of what we need!"

Tsuna clutches the poor victim close and stares off into the distance in horror. "Why do you think I never gave him flame boots?! A flying Kyouya is twice as dangerous as a grounded one, and now he has a fucking fighter jet!"

Tsuna throws whoever he grabbed away and clutches at his head, not bothering to hold in a sob. "We're all dead," he whimpers. "I can't be killed now, I'm so young, I never even asked Kyoko on a date."

A determined glint flares in Tsuna's eyes and he straightens, clenching his hands into fists by his side. "I need to tell her."

(And that's how Tsuna and Kyoko got together.)

"It's not that difficult, just keep your room clean," Hayato says, stabbing a piece of chicken and popping it into his mouth.

"I don't see why I have to, it's going to get messy later anyway," Lambo contests, lifting his glass for a sip of water.

The Storm rolls his eyes. "That's like saying 'why bother wiping your ass, you're just going to take a shit again'."

There's a loud clatter of wood on ceramic as Kyouya throws down his chopsticks and glares at Hayato. Lambo jolts and looks ready to run.

Hayato, on the hand, takes one look at Kyouya and rolls his eyes. "You're so delicate. Were you seriously put off your food by that conversation?"

Kyouya stands, lifting his plate and glass with him, then strides from the dining room.

"Why the hell would you say delicate?" Lambo hisses.

"What would you call him?"

"Likely to kill me," the Lightning deadpans. "In fact, once he's done with his food he's probably going to come back here and have us for dessert."

Kyouya will only sleep in his own territory. This means that when out of Namimori, he has significant sleep deprivation and is therefore much more homicidal than usual.

He usually gets around this quirk of personality by sleeping on one of the herbivores he owns. Ryohei is the most comfortable because he's the broadest and Kyouya has more room, but it's troublesome since Hana looks particularly mutinous when she catches them in bed together.

Kyouya would have normally let Hana sleep in the same room (like with Kyoko) but the woman snores like a dying camel so she's been banished to the couch.

Chapter Text

The small party room had splashes of food platers scattered around on small tables and was filled to the brim with chatter and laughter as the Mafiosi admired their friend's costumes.

No one could quite look Byakuran in the eye ever since he first got stuck in the door with his marshmallow costume (actually made of marshmallows) and everyone had their chance to make sassy comments about Xanxus' 'mafia' costume since the man didn't bother dressing up.

Tsuna swore his lion onesie was a dare he lost, and Colonello told anyone if they asked (and some that didn't) that he shaved his legs to add the final touch on his ballerina costume.

Enma had retreated to the corner a while back after his mummy bandages kept falling off and he resorted to borrowing Tsuna's clothes for the night. He was joined by Levi when Xanxus shot him for showing up looking like an uglier version of the Varia boss.

A soft tug on Takeshi's sleeve made him turn from Hayato's grumbling, about the itchy fur on his werewolf ears, to greet the new comer with a smile. The grin turned into a frown of confusion when he had to look almost straight down to see who tugged on his sleeve.

A small Kyouya blinked up at him, looking no older than eight with a long black cloak settled on his shoulders, the collar popped up to reach just under the child's jaw and the bottom pooling on the floor. The boy had his hair tucked just out of his eyes in the usual 'm' fringe as his younger self liked it, and had fake -hopefully- blood trailing down the corner of his mouth as an addition.

Takeshi almost cooed, but a Kyouya of any age can still paint him across the walls, so he just smiled and sunk to a knee in front of the small boy.

"Hello there, Kyouya," Takeshi greeted. "What are you dressed as?" Takeshi could see it clearly but kids always liked it when they could teach adults something.

"A wampire," Kyouya lisped cutely, the flash of white fangs the reason.

"Oh, wow, you do look very scary," Takeshi admired.

Kyouya nods imperiously. "Trick or treat?" he asked, blinking those large silver eyes up at Takeshi.

The Rain couldn't help the small 'aww' that escaped him. "I'm sorry, I don't have any candy on me right now," he apologised. "But I can go get you some-"

Kyouya's cape flies open like true bat wings as the child whipped his arms out and reached behind him.

Takeshi feels time freeze in the face of certain death.

The cape was entirely filled with weapons of all shapes and sizes that were attached by buckles and straps, almost completely obscuring the actual cape's colour.

Kyouya himself was clad in tightfitting black turtle neck and jeans with heavy duty boots on his feet. He also had straps and buckles twisting up his legs to his hips and crossing over his shoulders to keep a hold of even more weapons.

Anything Takeshi could name was hidden on this little child; from the sword at his hip, to the senbon circling his chest, to the double headed battle axe at the back of the cape.

Takeshi sees the trench knives slash up in Kyouya's small hands but it's only pure instinct that lets him throw himself back to clumsily avoid the decapitation.

Takeshi can't quite help the instinctual need to protect his friends, so he immediately screams, "Run!"

Squalo's head snaps around and spots the little Kyouya first, but the rest of the Vongola guardians are the ones who make it in time to rip Takeshi away from the unhesitating onslaught that Kyouya brings down upon the herbivore who didn't give him candy.

Ryohei slipped in front of the Rain Guardian and deflected the first swipe with a hit to Kyouya's arm but the boy dropped his knives and fell into a kick boxing stance just in time to slam Ryohei off his feet with a triple combo of kicks.

At that point everyone had seen what the problem was and had either started laughing or scrambling over to help.

Kyouya faced a terrified Enma next and whipped out his hatchet to shave off a few locks of hair as the red head ducked.

Skull was kicked into the fray by Reborn and two small metallic beads latched onto his chest from Kyouya's toss. The next second had him on the floor, a visible electric current arching of his shaking body.

It was Levi who took the hatchet to the thigh, and then the tip of Kyouya's bo staff to the throat.

The child whirled around the staff to deflect the knives Belphegor sent to him and smashed the staff down onto a table's edge so it went shooting for the Varia Storm. The prince doubled over in half as the table slammed into his diaphragm and he face planted in a bowl of wrapped dandy.

Kyouya grabbed the staff with both hands and twisted his wrists in opposite ways, the wood falling into three parts as a chain allowed the entire thing to lengthen to double its already long size.

Dino caught the first hit of that weapon, and his back slammed into the floor as his feet were torn from under him. Kyouya pulled and the poor Chiavarone boss was dragged to the child.

He panicked and lashed out with his whip, only for the weapon to be sliced in half, lengthways, from Kyouya's butterfly knife.

Lal March barely managed to deflect the tossed knife with a well thrown plate, and even ducked the next dagger, but the chain and bow staff combo wrapped around her neck and her head smashed through another table on Kyouya's direction.

Colonello shot into the fray at that and received a hail of senbon as reply. He dodged gracefully, mentally apologising to Shamal who got hit instead, and came to face a flying kick from the little demon the Decimo called a Cloud Guardian.

He deflected the kick with his rifle and shot for the cape to cut down the weapons by half, but the brat bounced off the rifle's hit and whirled around the trajectory as guns flashed into his hands to shoot the bullets off course and make everyone dive for cover.

The child landed on a wall from his jump and bounced off to another table close by, all the while firing off incredibly accurate shots to make the adults stay under the cover of reinforced tables.

The gun fire died for just a millisecond and a scream noted the double headed battle axe slicing clean through a table and straight into the ground between Hayato's legs.

The Storm scrambled to try and get away but the axe had caught and pinned his pants to the ground. A well placed knee to the face took him out.

Bianchi tossed a plate at the boy and received a cross bow bolt to the arm in reply. She hissed in pain and prepared another plate of poison cooking but a blur of black intercepted the throw, spinning on a heel, and the plate smashed to pieces against her protectively raised arms. It still got on her and she fainted from the fumes.

Both Squalo and Lussuria boxed Kyouya in with rapid fire hits. However, the boy simply unsheathed his sword and wrapped his gloved hands tight around it.

The three moved in a blur but a single redirection of Kyouya's sword sent Squalo's weapon through Lussuria's stomach and Lussuria's punch to shatter the Rain's hip.

The two hit the floor with a curse and well placed throws with Kyouya's left over metal beads saw them shaking with electricity.

During the fight Tsuna was finally able to get close enough and his gloves lit up with Sky flames in preparation for Zero Point Breakthrough. He dived forward when he saw his chance and froze the cape to the floor, hoping he could move fast enough to freeze the rest of the boy as well.

Kyouya sensed the change and whirled around - or tried to.

He shed his cloak immediately, revealing his battle attire, and while mid spin, reaches for the tessen in-between his shoulder blades. A swing of the still closed battle fan sent Tsuna tumbling backward to avoid the heavy metal.

When Kyouya opened the fan on the next swing, Tsuna shrieked and dived behind an overturned table to get away from the needle projectiles that flew when the folds snapped open.

Byakuran, behind the table Tsuna dived for, laughed even harder.

He stopped laughing when the razor sharp edge of the tessen sliced through the table and half of his marshmallow costume to leave him in his usual clothes. He rolled forward to miss the stomp, those boots cracking the flooring and leaving a small crater.

Tsuna threw himself away as well but unlike Byakuran, he was forced to weave around throwing knives coated in explosives.

Takeshi, still quite traumatised from the start, had been hanging back - but was still caught up in the chain explosion the knives caused when they hit the walls and tables. His head smacked against the wall when the explosions threw him back and he passed out.

Reborn was very casually filming the utter destruction of the most vicious powerhouses from where he was perched on the arm of Xanxus' throne, the two not having moved from when it all began.

The tessen was sent flying through the air to pin a startled Mukuro's arm to the wall, the man having been edging slowly around the fight to reach the door. Kyouya followed the trajectory with a jump and whirled around a trident swing to pull out his bowie knife and pin Mukuro's other arm to the wall.

Chrome slashed at the child with her own trident and Kyouya leapt away from the two Mists only to fire off a round of smoke bombs at their feet and dart back in under the cover. When the light smoke disperses, Chrome is slumped at the base of the wall while Mukuro is hanging unconscious where he was pinned.

Kyouya doesn't pause even as he takes stock of the room's occupants still moving.

The two on the throne chair were simply watching him and the marshmallow herbivore was pouting in a corner, mourning it's costume. Another herbivore was trying to hide in the corner and mumbling 'tolerate' under it's breath. The only one still able to fight is the fluffy herbivore, currently looking like it was going to cry.

Kyouya narrowed his eyes and surged forwards. The blood red weapon pressed along the length of his thigh was released from the buckles holding it, and with a sharp flick of his wrist the weapon snapped out to its full extended form. The entire thing lengthened until it was taller that Kyouya himself and a blade clicked out of the handle and into position.

Tsuna whimpered at the scythe and turned to run, but right before he reached the closest escape which was a window, the weapon (incredibly aerodynamic in Kyouya's hands) spun blade over handle sideways like a Frisbee and slammed blade first into the wall.

Tsuna barely managed to stop before he sliced himself in half on the blade blocking him in at hip height. He whirled around to face the child, cornered between the blade and grip.

Kyouya landed easily on the end of the handle, the jump not even shaking the scythe from where it was buried in the wall, and the child stepped closer slowly with balance like a tightrope walker.

Tsuna blinked and in that gap, Kyouya pressed his fingers against the heel of his hands and the weapons in his glove's knuckles deployed.

Tsuna opened his eyes to see the hooked claws on Kyouya's knuckles speeding towards his throat.


The boy paused millimetres from the herbivores skin, and Tsuna let out something akin to a relived sigh mixed with a sob and slip down the wall until he was curled up with his knees pulled to his chest.

The eight year only tucked his hands behind his back and spun on the scythe's handle to face an exasperated Fon.

"Must you do this every year?" Fon sighed.

"Yesh," Kyouya lisped cutely around his fangs.

Fon huffed and picked the child up by his waist, before he settled the boy on a hip as the Storm searched for an undamaged table. He found one beside the throne chair with Reborn and Xanxus and walked over to sit Kyouya down.

Fon then began immediately divesting the homicidal child of his weapons.

"What is with you and dressing up like an armoury, only to go around and try to kill people who don't give you candy?" Fon grumbled good naturedly, completely ignoring the groaning of half-conscious bodies.

"One," Kyouya began. "I am not an armoury, I am a vampire." He opened his mouth and pointed at his fangs as proof.

Fon nodded his head, humouring the child, and gestured for Kyouya to raise his arms. Fon slid the chest piece off and let it drop with a heavy thud to the floor.

"Two," Kyouya dictated. "I do not try to kill people. If I wanted them dead, they would be dead." The boy waved a dismissive hand about the room to encompass the still alive victims of his playtime.

Fon hummed, working at a particularly stubborn buckle on the child's calf. When he finally got that undone, he picked Kyouya up by the armpits and set the child farther towards the amused Reborn and Xanxus so the buckles and straps from the hips down were left on the table.

Fon swept them off and onto the floor before he knelt in front of Kyouya and started working on a boot lace.

Kyouya turned to the watching adults - more specifically Reborn who was closer. "Trick or treat?" he asked sweetly.

Reborn smirked. "We both know the answer you want me to give."

Kyouya swung the foot Fon wasn't working on over the Storm's head and toward Reborn's. The man caught his leg by the calf and blinked at the blade that shot out of the boot's sole.

"Kyouya," Fon sighed. "I see you've upgraded." He let the boot he unlaced drop to the ground and took the one still in Reborn's hand, lowering it until Kyouya was sitting properly again so he could take off that one as well.

"Wao," Kyouya drawls, faking surprise half-heartedly. "That's never happened before - what a shock. My apologies."

Reborn chuckled. He's suddenly feeling nostalgic about his own childhood. 

Fon pulled off the two ankle bracers that doubled as sheaths for even more weapons and did the same with Kyouya's wrist bracers.

He took off the gloves as well even though Kyouya had tucked away the hooked claws, and finally stood. He took a short step back and scanned the boy intently but found no more weapons.

"Okay, I think we're done," Fon hedged.

Kyouya hopped off the table and landed on socked feet, but before he could leave Fon placed a hand on his shoulder and crouched down to face him.

"If I see a hint of tonfa-" Fon began.

"You took all my weapons," Kyouya protested.

Fon simply rolled his eyes. "If I see a hint of tonfa, then I'll put you in your room and you won't be able to explore until the bazooka finally rightens itself."

Kyouya nodded. "Then you won't see them." He ducked out of Fon's hold and darted through the door, off to terrorise the rest of the mansion.

"You know he meant-" Reborn tried.

"Yes," Fon intercepted. "Yes, I know he meant he'll use them out of my sight."

Tsuna whimpered.

Chapter Text

Kyouya will immediately reject any Sun flame user when they try to heal him.

He's adamant that just because someone can activate mitosis in cells, doesn't mean they know how to care for injuries. A clear example is broken bones. They need to be reset, the Sun can't just magically refit the bone in its proper place.

You need a Mist for that, actually, someone who can make real illusions like Mukuro with his eye or another Mist with access to Verde's device that can make the standard Mist flames real. They need to reach inside, through the flesh, and then make the illusion tangible to push the shards back into position. Only then can a Sun heal the cracks.

Mists are also the best help in field medicine because they inject their flames and the body takes over, knowing exactly what it needs to do for survival. It's not like the Mist has to control every cell down to the transcription and translation of genes, no. It wouldn't just be almost impossible it would literally be impossible since the Mist would have to be aware of every molecule passing through the illusion, they themselves guiding the movement - no, it's too complex to even guess at.

Suns do help very much with things like bruises or even large gashes, just the standard wounds that can be complex or simple. It's a completely natural process as well, the flames just encouraging what's already there to split and grow and repair. However, some cells just don't grow much after infancy, like the muscles of the heart.

You need a Cloud for that, and not just any Cloud but someone with borderline godly control who can propagate the cells accurately with all of its functionality and be able to stop at the right point with all of the cells fully complete.

Unlike a Sun, Clouds are unnatural healers who force the division, and therefore if the flames are cut off or they aren't controlled well, a cell could only be half finished or it might not have a few key proteins.

That kind of control is incredibly rare so a Storm is needed to burn away the cancer cells or the wrong bits and pieces left over. They're also really helpful with bullets or shrapnel that are stuck inside the wound, burning everything away until not even the heavy metal gas form is left.

Rain of course is a pain reliever, able to numb the area if needed or slow down the heart beats to stop bleeding out - although those with bad control can stop the heart entirely. It can also be used to slow poison movement around the body until proper treatment can be found.

Lightning is good for restarts, mainly used as defibrillators in emergency situations but again control is needed for the volts. In some cases they can force the body to make adrenalin but that has to be in synchronisation with a Sun if the patient is too far gone.

Skies are essentially there to mix the flames when a patch job is needed. For instance, if Takeshi tried to use his Rain flames on Hayato, the Storm flames would automatically fight back. It's like the immune system in the body encountering a foreign substance. It doesn't matter that Hayato is fully conscious and accepting of the Rain flames, his body will push Takeshi's flame out.

There are exceptions, like if Takeshi had a higher flame purity or more control than Hayato he could force the Storm flames to comply. Harmony factor isn't needed when it's the same flame type either.

For this example, a Sky can harmonise the two flames so the Rain will sink in and do its job. It's a constant effort on a Sky's part when the flames mix, because as soon as they stop, the foreign flames are cast out again and blocked off.

Specific to Tsuna is Zero Point Breakthrough, and he uses his ice to freeze the patient until they can get back to actual doctors. Mukuro had his arm cut off once (Kyouya swears it was an accident) and Tsuna froze the Mist quickly until they got to hospital because Mukuro couldn't concentrate enough to re-attach his own arm with illusions.

Regarding medical assistance, Sun has the least risk. Certainly much less than a Cloud - Kyouya takes great pleasure in propagating an opponent's blood until they pop like a water balloon.

He giggles.

It's fucking terrifying.

But back to the matter at hand. Sun has the least amount of risk associated with it because it's essentially just speeding up the body's healing ability. It can be fatal when poison is involved since the flame also speeds up the effect of the poison, but that's not directly related to cons of Sun flame use.

However, 'least amount of risk' does not mean no risk at all. Understanding the mechanisms of the flames means that Kyouya does not trust any kind of flame user to heal him, because their concentration could waver or they might not have strong enough flames and quite frankly they haven't gone through years of medical training like professional nurses and doctors do.

Therefore, Tsunayoshi Sawada has no footing to stand on in this argument.

"You've been shot!" Tsuna cries, throwing his arms out. "Five times! Just lets us help you!"

The rest of the Guardians stand in a circle in the destroyed forest clearing, hundreds of kilometres from any hospital, trying to get closer to the man who is currently dyed a deep, blood red. They have no idea how he's still standing without the slightest hint of pain in his expression, but it would be a lot easier for them all if he just collapsed unconscious.

In the background, the six highly weaponised helicopters burn merrily, explosions occurring at irregular intervals. The personnel that were inside the helicopters are laid out at the base of surrounding trees, most unconscious, with Reborn standing over them threateningly.

Kyouya raises an eyebrow, his torso bleeding profusely along with his left arm since he had blocked a highly pregnant Chrome from machine guns. "If you get anywhere near me with your pseudo-medical training, I'll bite you to death," Kyouya promises.

Tsuna narrows his eyes. "Pin him down," he orders.

They lunge for Kyouya but he's ready to meet them. After ten minutes of the Guardians being beaten up by the Cloud, Reborn has to shoot Kyouya to take him down.

Chapter Text

There are two men, laughing loudly (perhaps drunkenly from the faint clinking of glass bottles that can be heard) as they stand on top of a rock wall at the ocean's edge.

The Guardians are walking along the sidewalk opposite the men, across a small road. The men are kind of hard to ignore but Tsuna wants no maiming of any kind. The Sky leads with Hayato beside him, then comes Lambo and Ryohei, with Kyouya and Takeshi next and finally Mukuro and Chrome at the end.

It's horrible placement, Tsuna acknowledges that, because Kyouya and Mukuro should never be that close together and they should always be in his line of sight. However, he's trying to trust them to not cause trouble.

One of the men picks up a stone and suddenly hurls it at a low flying seagull. It misses and the men both laugh, the other picking up a stone as well.

Kyouya abruptly deviates from the path and the rest of the Guardian's lock onto him, ready to stop the Cloud. When he crosses in front of Takeshi his shoulder is grabbed, and with a gentle pressure, Takeshi urges Kyouya to keep on the path and ignore the two.

"There's no way they can hit a seagull with that shitty aim," the Rain murmurs to Kyouya, his arm tight around the Cloud's shoulders.

"I completely agree," Mukuro says with a chuckle.

Tsuna stops walking and groans when he realises that the Mist isn't physically present. The rest of the Guardian's come to a stop as well and Chrome, with a very blatant space next to her that should hold Mukuro, shrugs sheepishly.

"Are you going to come back or are we playing hide and seek?" Hayato sighs, reaching into a pocket for dynamite.

A hum comes from Mukuro, the mockingly amused sound coming from all directions at once. A giant lotus flower abruptly appears under them all, non-existent to the rest of the public even as it glows with a pure white light.

Takeshi lets go of Kyouya and reaches for the wrapped up sword hanging over a shoulder.

In that moment of distraction, Chrome steps up and bleeds into Kyouya's form as the man shifts to her's. The fake Kyouya slips into position beside Takeshi as the fake Chrome steps back to the end of the group.

"Hey, calm down," Mukuro berates, dissolving into being beside the fake Chrome as the lotus vanishes. "I just wanted to show you a pretty flower."

Takeshi looks back to his side and sees Kyouya where he left the Cloud so he relaxes.

Lambo rolls his eyes. "Tsuna, I think he's getting bored. How much longer to the restaurant?"

"Maybe five minutes," Tsuna responds and then waves a hand at Mukuro. "Come up here, you're walking with me now."

Hayato and Mukuro both protest, because Tsuna has taken up the dreaded punishment method of making his Guardian's hold his hand when they start trouble. Of course, that's only for Lambo, Mukuro and Kyouya. The rest get disappointed looks from Tsuna and the occasional timeout when they go too far.

"But then I'd leave my cute Chrome all alone," Mukuro complains, latching onto Chrome with both arms. "Come on, I'll behave."

"I promise I'll watch him better, Boss," Chrome says with her eyes wide and apologetic.

"That's cheating," Tsuna deadpans. "You can't use Chrome against me like that."

Mukuro splutters dramatically. "I didn't force her to say that. Look, is her eye red? Am I possessing her?"

Tsuna just shakes his head and starts walking again. "Alright, fine, but you hold my hand next time."

The group starts moving again and while the two men on the rock wall are still noisy, the Vongola Guardians move further away until they can barely hear the two.

Unwatched, because she's so quiet and never causing trouble, Chrome calmly forms a small Roll sphere in one hand, without spikes. Mukuro smirks as she then turns on a heel and pegs the ball at the men, the sphere cutting through the air in a blur.

It hits one in the temple and makes him slam into the other, both toppling over and landing in the water with a loud splash.

Fortunately, the Guardians are far enough away that the noise doesn't carry.

Kyouya and Chrome switch back at a traffic light three minutes away when they all gather into a jumbled mess.

Mukuro shudders as the wind slams into his back, throwing his hair out in front of him. He winces when his eye is poked by a strand and brushes it back pointlessly since it only gets messed up again.

Chrome is beside him, her coat's hood pulled up to keep her hair away from her face. She doesn't seem to be having trouble with the cold considering the multiple layers she is wearing.

Ryohei leads the small group, the boxer enthusiastically striding through the freezing weather. Despite his jacket being thin, it keeps out the wind, plus Ryohei is just a furnace himself.

Kyouya is lagging behind, not willing to associate with any of them, a thick trench coat wrapped around him.

Normally, Kyouya would disappear like Mukuro would with Chrome, but Ryohei has the address and honestly the three have underestimated Ryohei's horrific sense of direction.

The walk was supposed to be a short one but Ryohei took lead and none of the rest cared enough to spend twenty minutes arguing who was the more extreme at directions.

So of course they got lost, and Mukuro was fine the first ten minutes but it's now just over twenty, the building with Tsuna and the rest is nowhere in sight, and he feels his teeth about to start chattering.

Illusions could only make Mukuro stop feeling cold, but then that brings the risk of not knowing when to find warmth. There are some pretty bad stories about frostbitten Mists out there who didn't understand that illusions tricked the mind, not body.

A thick, warm coat is suddenly draped over his shoulders and Mukuro instinctively slides his arms in and clutches it tight around him, but he's able to stop himself before he does up the buttons. He glances over his shoulder to find Kyouya has dropped back again, walking along in his normal suit.

"I'm still Mukuro," the Mist calls back. "I haven't switched bodies with Chrome." The switching does tend to confuse most considering it's subtle and without any prompting other than just because the two Mists feel like it.

"I know," Kyouya responds. "She's smart enough to not need assistance."

Mukuro huffs and faces forward again, buttoning up the coat and stuffing his numb hands into the warm pockets.

They spend another forty minutes following Ryohei before they happen upon the correct building, completely by accident. By the end even Ryohei is shivering and Chrome is not at all discretely trying to mould herself into Mukuro's side.

Mukuro doesn't feel the wind or cold at all, the coat incredibly well made and constantly heated. He strides into the meeting room, and raises an eyebrow when the temperature doesn't change.

"The heating is out," Hayato grumbles, shoulders hunched and arms crossed.

Everyone inside is wearing their coats and scarves and Tsuna is using his gloves in mitten mode to keep his hands warm.

Kyouya makes his way to an empty single seater couch and calmly leans back into the definitely freezing cold leather. He doesn't look visibly cold but the weather must be cutting through him.

"You were out there for an hour," Tsuna sighs. "Why would you let Ryohei lead?"

"I am extremely good at leading!" Ryohei protests.

"Why don't you have a coat?" Takeshi asks Kyouya with a worried frown.

"No worries," Mukuro cuts in. "I'll take care of the Skylark." He starts taking off the coat.

Kyouya looks apprehensive as Mukuro saunters up.

Tsuna face palms when Mukuro actually picks Kyouya up and then sits down on the couch with the stunned Cloud on his lap before throwing the coat over both of them.

Hayato groans and lets his head fall back.

Kyouya lifts an arm and the coat falls away from that shoulder to reveal the bright silver of tonfa parallel to his forearm.

Before anything else can happen, Chrome steps over and nudges Kyouya to the side so she could sit on Mukuro's free thigh. Everyone is just kind of waiting for Kyouya to snap and kill everything in sight but Chrome blinks up at the Cloud with wide, innocent eyes and then lays her head on his shoulder.

Kyouya frowns but tucks his tonfa away and just pulls up the coat to cover himself entirely.

Mukuro is immensely satisfied at how manipulative Chrome has become. Also at how warm he is despite being in his thin shirt again.

"Did that just happen?" Tsuna whispers to Hayato.

The Storm shrugs. "They were subjected to Ryohei for an hour. Give them some time to get back to normal."

Takeshi gets up and flops over all three of their laps. It takes another five minutes for the rest of the Guardians to pile on top to get as much body heat as possible.

Chapter Text

Looking back, it was a smooth transition for all of them.

The Foundation generals, once known as the Disciplinary Committee, payed their respects to their leader in silence. Kyouya Hibari had fallen in battle while fighting alongside his Foundation, his last act being protection of an injured Tetsuya Kusakabe.

One bullet. That's all it took, really. Just one in the right place, just one that slipped through in the chaos of battle, just one that wasn't blocked by the army of Roll spheres.

Just one to take Kyouya away from them.

They held themselves with perfect posture at the funeral, watched as their leader was laid to rest, and disappeared. The Foundation took on new generals in a neat and orderly fashion while the Disciplinary Committee -because they still are the DC, no matter how old they get or what they do, they will always be Kyouya's DC- faded away quietly.

By the time anyone had noticed, they were gone from this world.

They wake in too small bodies, muscles weak and senses stifled, but minds painfully clear. They gather in front of Namimori middle school by instinct and habit, getting odd looks from the children there since the Disciplinary Committee are too small to be in primary school, much less middle school.

In synchronicity they move, walking a familiar route that has been ingrained into their deepest memories. They have already planned for this, for everything that can and will happen in the future.

Their leader will live, they all promise themselves and each other. He will live past them all, because they would rather die than ever fail him again.

The Disciplinary Committee find their leader on the front lawn of a house they all know so well – a house they call home with the utmost sincerity.

He looks up when they approach, curiosity turning to confusion when they all fall to a knee in apology and respect.

Their leader is loved, and they will tell him that every day for the rest of their lives.

Chapter Text

Lambo groans in annoyance when his phone starts screaming. Literally screaming, because I-pin is a horrible friend and Lambo really needs to change his password. He pats the side table blindly and takes the call.

"Yo," he mumbles. "What time is it?"

"Twelve forty-six," I-pin sighs.

Lambo jerks upright and blinks at his room, lit by the noon sun streaming through his large window. "Ah, fuck." He's late by half an hour.

I-pin laughs. "Just get over here already," she demands lightly before hanging up.

Lambo drops his phone and scrambles out of bed, darting into the bathroom and then tumbling into his closet before grabbing his phone, wallet and keys. He gets a lot of eyerolls as he sprints through the Japanese Vongola base and Takeshi laughs as Lambo almost collides with the Rain when turning a corner.

Lambo does a hairpin turn and darts through a meeting room, planning to simply jump through the window. It's only two storeys up and the garage is closer than if he used the front door.

Kyouya is the only occupant of the room, the Cloud sitting on the table and gazing through the window while a file is in his lap and a phone is raised to his ear. Lambo sprints directly for the open window instead of curving around and giving the Cloud space.

It's a mistake.

Kyouya's legs swing up and wrap around Lambo's thighs as the younger passes, reeling in the stunned Lightning. Lambo jerks and stumbles from the sudden stop, having to catch himself on the table.

"One moment," Kyouya says into the phone before placing both that and the file to the side. He then calmly leans back on his hands and stares at the other man as if he has all the time in the world.

"Whatever I did, I'm sorry," Lambo blurts out. The man wonders if Takeshi would be able to run fast enough if Lambo screamed for help. If he's getting beaten up, then he'll take someone down with him.

Kyouya lets his eyes wander down Lambo's torso before skating back up to lock eyes.

Lambo winces because he doesn't remember what he's wearing. A shirt and a jacket is all he can remember, something casual. He really doesn't want to break eye contact to look but he honestly doesn't know. He darts a glance down quickly but freezes when he sees his new jacket.

"Oh shit," Lambo chokes out, horrified. He lurches forward as fast as he can and grabs onto Kyouya's wrists, squeezing tightly as he makes sure they're pined to the table.

Since Kyouya is leaning back, Lambo is very much in the older man's personal space. However, that's hardly first priority right now, because Lambo is wearing a jacket with a fur trim on the hoodie.

"It's fake," he blurts out. "Kyouya, I would never have bought it if it weren't faux fur."

Lambo vaguely remembers what happened to Dino the first time the two met, back when Kyouya was slightly less vicious and Reborn was there to stop Dino's gory death. However, Lambo saw the last person to wear actual fur in front of Kyouya and it's highly likely that the Lightning will take that memory to his grave.

Kyouya narrows his eyes, body still lax despite being held down. "If there's nothing to worry about, then why are you restraining me?" he demands.

A hysterical laugh bubbles up but Lambo shoves it down before it escapes. "It's logic," he says with a shaky calm. "If I'm holding you, then you can't move unless I let you."

"Is that so?" Kyouya hums. His thighs tighten around Lambo hips for a painful moment before relaxing again.

Lambo flinches at the look Kyouya has. This conversation is going downhill very quickly because now Kyouya thinks Lambo was issuing a challenge. He needs to get things back on course, fast.

"It's fake," Lambo repeats. "I don't know to prove it, but just-"

"Let me feel it," Kyouya interrupts. "I can tell."

Lambo pauses for a moment and then nods. "Okay. If you lie down and put your hands above your head, slowly, then I'll take it off."

"Why does it need to be off?" Kyouya asks, raising an eyebrow.

Lambo does laugh this time, if a bit high pitched and shaky. "You are not coming that close to my neck when you're annoyed with me. At least I can get some kind of warning this way."

Kyouya huffs, something close to amusement, and leans back further until his back touches the table. Lambo slowly releases first Kyouya's right hand and then his left before the older man raises them above his head.

Lambo hesitates but quickly rips the jacket from his shoulders, watching closely to see any kind of movement from Kyouya. He drops the jacket on the Cloud's abdomen and then reaches out his hands.

Kyouya obligingly holds out his wrists for Lambo to grab again and then sits up, the jacket falling to his lap from the movement. "Isn't this a bit unnecessary?" he hums.

"I've seen what you're capable of," Lambo argues. "If anything, I should be taking more precautions. I'm twenty-three and not cute anymore; you're not going to go easy on me."

Kyouya leans forward, causing Lambo to tense and grip the Cloud's wrists harder. He knows Kyouya can easily break the grip and then break Lambo's face, but the thin veil of hope it provides is the only reason Lambo isn't sobbing and begging for mercy right now.

Kyouya tilts his head to the side, considering. "You're still pretty cute, in that 'pathetic herbivore' kind of way. If it is real fur, I'll only break your kneecap. You can choose which one."

Lambo winces as his imagination kicks in. "Thanks… I guess."

"You're welcome," Kyouya says, entirely sincere as he straightens up again.

Lambo shakes head and guides one of Kyouya's hands to the jacket on the Cloud's lap. The man's expression blanks and he cards his fingers through the fur. Lambo's breath catches in his throat.

The rush of relief is almost overwhelming when Kyouya's ankles unhook so Lambo can leave. The Lightning pauses for just a moment but lets go of Kyouya's wrists and snatches the jacket away, diving out of the window a second after.

Kyouya calmly crosses his legs and picks up the phone again as he lays the file on his lap. "Continue, herbivore," he commands.

"Is everything okay?" Tsuna asks, his voice clear through the phone.

"Someone was wearing fur," Kyouya responds easily, seeing no reason to keep the interruption a secret.

A heavy sigh comes through from Tsuna's side. "Okay, where are you and how much of a mess did you make?"

Chapter Text

Mukuro turns to leave the meeting room but doesn't expect Tetsuya to be crossing behind him to talk with Kyouya.

The Mist user gets stabbed in the face with the rather impressive pompadour and Mukuro splutters, automatically backhanding the offending weapon away from him. It flips sideways but returns with what seems to be double the force and slaps Mukuro across the face again.


Everyone not stunned into immobility turns to find Kyouya breaking down and completely losing his mind with laughter. The Cloud user doubles over and drops to his knees, clutching his stomach as he convulses with hilarity.

"My apologies," Tetsuya says to Mukuro, ignoring his hysterical boss. "It happens more than you would think."

Mukuro just takes a shaky breath in effort to stay in control and disperses into mist.

Kyouya flops over onto his side, still cackling madly. Tetsuya nods to the rest of the room's occupants and crouches briefly by Kyouya's side to scoop him up gently before standing and walking out through the door.

As the two get further away, everyone hears a strange mix of half-garbled Japanese and Italian, the faint words gasped out between Kyouya's laughter.

Something about 'proof of God existing'.

Kyouya stands at the corner of a street known for the homeless and hookers, contemplating his awful day.

He woke up groggy, which never happens. Ever. Then he learns that he's out of tea right around the time Tetsuya regretfully informs him that the pompadour is sick. Normally Tetsuya would continue working through any difficulty but Kyouya gets ill easily and neither wanted to tempt it.

Kyouya gets sick anyway. Only just a sore throat and a headache, but it's enough to make him retreat back into bed. He's woken up later that afternoon by that loud dynamite herbivore, flailing and ranting about a mission for the fluffiest herbivore.

Kyouya decides that biting herbivores to death will make him feel better, throws the loud one out of the window, and takes the request.

Everything goes smoothly, right up until the enemy lure him into the most secure room, lock the door, and set everything on fire.

At that point, Kyouya was feeling rather smug because they would rather lose their base of operations and any one that couldn't get away (including the herbivores locked in the room with him) just so Kyouya would die.

So, yes, he's smug for about a few minutes and then he remembers the gasoline fuelled fire. He ends up losing his shoes, one pant leg from the knee down, plus everything from the waist up except for thin tatters of his shirt.

Then he finally gets through the three-meter-thick wall of Kevlar and carbon fibre backbone filled in with concrete.

He finds the enemy waiting for him outside, set up with rocket launchers and machine guns mounted on two tanks and a helicopter. Add that to around three hundred personnel, and Kyouya takes about an hour to bite them all.

He then steals a jacket, a car, gets into a car chase, and ends up on a street corner by the time the sun is completely set. He's reluctant to walk further with his bare feet because there's broken glass and discarded cigarettes and he probably won't get three blocks before he contracts AIDS from the scattering of used needles.

He calls for a ride using a stolen phone.

Kyouya isn't sure what he looks like, but he's pretty damn sure he doesn't deserve the car that pulls up with a lustful man inside that offers Kyouya twenty dollars for a blowjob.

He most certainly doesn't deserve the pineapple that arrives in a flashy red convertible just in time to hear the offer.

"Move along," Mukuro calls out to the other man who couldn't quite pull his eyes away from Kyouya's body. "This one is mine."

Kyouya glares harder as the herbivore grumbles but moves off, clearly not able to compete money-wise for the gorgeous hooker.

Mukuro lasts three more seconds and bursts into laughter. Kyouya throws himself into car, intent on choking the infuriating man until either the smirk goes away or the herbivore dies.

Maybe both.

Mukuro's chained to a ceiling in a room, blindfolded to keep him unsteady and gagged just to shut him up. His entire body is suspended in the air with the chains around his wrist fastened to the ceiling and the chains around his ankles fastened to the floor.

The most irritating thing about his capture, even past the damn flame blocking cuff, is that every movement of his causes him to rotate slowly.

He can hear his breaths and the rattle of his chains but nothing else. When his captors set him up in the room, already blindfolded and gagged, he could hear the unique sound of footsteps on concrete. When he tracked how far one of his attackers went he guessed about twenty meters - quite a big room if Mukuro is in the middle.

He also heard the metallic clanking and jostling of a shitty made cart with many -presumably gruesome- items of torture that his attackers promised to use on him. They were even polite enough to power up the cordless drill. Right next to his face.

Then they were called away, but reassured Mukuro that they'll be back with some friends and that everyone would have a really great time.

Mukuro tenses when he hears the door's lock being disengaged and forces his body to relax, intent on presenting a blasé attitude.

The heavy sounding door opens, brushing lightly over the floor with its plastic edges, solely added to make the room more soundproof. No one likes screaming and sobbing when they're trying to focus on things other than torture.

Soft footsteps whisper over the floor, drowned out for a brief moment as the door is closed. Mukuro takes special care to note that it isn't locked again.

The other occupant moves closer to Mukuro with a languid pace. Not hesitant, but that right amount of time to make Mukuro tense up again involuntarily, a jolt of unreasonable panic at the unknown, at the wait for something you know will be horrible to come.

The person passes to the side of Mukuro's hanging form and a press of thin fingers at his back causes Mukuro to sway forward and spin. He bites down in anger on the rubber gag in his mouth but stays unmoving.

The steps continue a little further and stop, near the metal cart if Mukuro's memory serves him right. Then there's a sickening screech of metal against metal as they drag some kind of torture implement against the tray it was on.

Then silence.

Mukuro waits for them to move again, perhaps clatter around with more tools. Hell, he'd take a condescending monologue at this point. He just can't stand the silence, not knowing where they are, not knowing where the first strike will come from-

The thick and heavy cuff around his ankles clink lightly and fall with a loud clang to the floor.

Mukuro doesn't move. He can't, there's no point. If he could at least see or hear footsteps, then he can shove his foot down the bastard's throat or snap their neck if he wrapped his legs around their head at the right angle.

But he doesn't know if they're still standing by the metal cart - in fact they can't be. Any type of throwing weapon doesn't have the finesse necessary to take off both his ankle chains at once without that unique screech of metal, and there was no sound to indicate the weapon had clattered to the floor afterwards.

If anything, that clink when they came off sounded like a key. Which means the fucker is playing with Mukuro, either deliberately hiding their footsteps now or they're naturally soundless and they were making their steps heavier at the start.

Mukuro will make their death slow.

A clink and then he's dropping, the handcuffs holding him up having been opened. Mukuro's feet hit the ground, awkwardly off balance from landing on the pool of chains that used to be attached to his ankles.

He rips off his blindfold and gag instantly, quickly spinning to find the other occupant of the room… standing with his phone out and smirking at something on the screen.

Mukuro huffs in annoyance, working his jaw a bit to get rid of the soreness caused by the gag even as he steps off the pile of chains. "I assume you enjoyed that?"

"Very much so," Kyouya murmurs, calmly turning his phone so Mukuro has a clear view of the new background picture, one Mukuro Rokudo hanging suspended in a concrete room with a hint of torture implements in the bottom right corner.

Mukuro will make his death slow.

"Did you at least leave any for me?" Mukuro demands, making a mental note to smash the phone later.

"A few herbivores, most probably running away if they have an ounce of sense," Kyouya says, tucking away his phone and moving to the door. He throws a smirk over his shoulder. "Your ego should be back to normal after kicking them around, right? After all, you get off on false superiority."

"It's hardly false," Mukuro contests lightly as he walks after the other man. "I took you down pretty easily, didn't I?"

Kyouya hums, navigating the puddles of crimson in the hallway. "Yes, because I hit peak strength when I was in middle school, and when was the last time we fought properly? Give me a moment, I'm sure it'll come to me."

"You're pretty chatty," Mukuro snaps, deliberately kicking a nearby body which slides on the blood and makes a wet squelch when it hits the wall. "What did you bargain for when you agreed to come and get me?"

"That would be telling," Kyouya says childishly.

"Is it a fighter jet?"

Kyouya freezes and whips around, frowning at Mukuro. "How did you guess?"

Mukuro chuckles, passing the other man and continuing down the hallway. "You and I both know they're never going to give you one."

"But they promised," Kyouya argues.

Mukuro just laughs.

Chapter Text

Kyouya is chasing some older teenagers through the street, most dressed sloppily and one clutching a spray can. Probably for graffiti, Takeshi guesses, and freezes when Kyouya glances over at the Rain.

The trick to dealing with Kyouya's homicidal tendencies is to treat it the same as when a child declares they want to be an astronaut. You shouldn't expect him to attack you, but at the same time you should be encouraging about his overall fighting and not sceptical that he can break you easily.

It's a fine line to walk, especially keeping in mind that Kyouya is not a wide eyed child stumbling around and just learning about the world. Fon is a master at the technique. Takeshi just hopes to achieve novice level.

The baseball enthusiast nods in greeting to the hunting Disciplinary Committee Chairman and returns back to his phone, quickly taken out for just this purpose.

The group is herded past the Rain and only after the windblown gakuran is around the corner does Takeshi look up and let out a sigh of relief.

"Well done," Reborn compliments, suddenly hopping out of a hiding place and onto Takeshi's shoulder. "He almost deviated there, but you managed."

"Oh, hey kid," Takeshi chuckles. "Are you out with Tsuna?"

A terrified, high-pitched scream coming from where Kyouya just turned the corner answers that question.

Kyouya frowns at the report on his phone and keeps scrolling, building up more reasons to discipline the herbivore. Normally, he wouldn't care, but quite frankly this level of pathetic is a slight on Kyouya because he's been seen associating with the herbivore, and therefore it must be corrected.

He even came all the way from Namimori to this ridiculously extravagant and blatant Italian headquarters.

Kyouya steps past the threshold, wondering where the herbivore is since several people (plus the tracker) indicated that the man should be in this room. He steps into the cluttered office with paraphernalia of baseball things scattered about. Kyouya isn't sure why a pitching machine is in the corner but whatever.

He paces past the desk and the assortment of couches and bean bags until he reaches the far side where a long three seater couch is facing out of a large window, the magnificent Vongola gardens in plain view.

He reaches the back of the couch and looks down to the still form of the herbivore, dressed in light clothes as if he was just about to start exercising, and completely unmoving. For a brief moment, Kyouya thinks the man finally lost those last few neurons he had left and expired.

He reaches down and hovers his hand over the herbivore's nose, not feeling any warm air that would indicate breath. He then tests the pulse at the neck and finds a strong beat. Kyouya straightens and frowns in confusion, because maybe the herbivore has something blocking his trachea or his lungs have revolted and soon he will die.

Doubtful, because Kyouya is not that lucky.

He circles the couch and takes a seat at the edge, near the herbivore's waist, before lifting the thin shirt and placing a hand on the still chest. He runs his fingers along the ribs, occasionally pressing lightly, but there's no real need since he already knows what's wrong with the herbivore.

He rolls his eyes and sits back because he can feel the diaphragm, the primary muscle in inhalation, is tense as if someone is holding their breath.

The asphyxiation is entirely voluntary, and Kyouya wonders if it's an herbivore thing. Maybe an existential crisis hit hard and the herbivore is trying to kill himself in the stupidest way he could possibly think of. Or perhaps the shame of failing the last job so badly is leading to suicide.

Kyouya adjusts the shirt over the herbivore again and sits still, patiently waiting until the herbivore either stops being an idiot (highly unlikely) or he passes out and the body takes over the respiratory system again.

He counts a minute and fifteen seconds before the baseball herbivore sucks in a huge breath and pants with the need to get oxygen into his system again. The herbivore opens one eye hesitantly, and when he sees Kyouya watching, squeezes both eyes shut and holds his breath again.

Kyouya rolls his eyes and slams a fist into the herbivore's ribs, kick starting the breathing again involuntarily.

Takeshi coughs a little at the hit and peers up at Kyouya with a nervous grin. "Oh… hey, Kyouya. So you heard about the last mission, huh?"

Kyouya calmly raises an eyebrow. "Did you honestly think playing dead would get you out of being disciplined?"

"Kind of?" Takeshi tries.

"Where's Kyouya?" Tsuna wonders after it's been ten minutes past the appropriate time.

There are shrugs all around the table, most of them flipping through their notes or munching on the plate of biscuits set out, while Ryohei is currently face down and snoring.

"Okay, then does anyone know where Tetsuya is?" Tsuna tries. He can't call the Cloud because Kyouya doesn't answer anyone not a high-tier Foundation member, but even then it's a fifty-fifty chance. Tetsuya is the safest bet, since the man knows where Kyouya is at all times.

"Mukuro? No idea?" Chrome speaks up.

"He can get around my spies," Mukuro answers with a shake of his head.

"Why are your spies in Vongola?" Hayato asks, suspicious.


"Thank you for that reassuring explanation, Mukuro," Lambo says in obviously faked cheer.

"I'll get him," Takeshi volunteers.

They blink at him. Takeshi's smile turns sharp as his eyes darken and even seem to stop reflecting the overhead lights as a gush of killing intent leaves him.

"What are you-" Hayato starts but gets cut off before he can finish.

The Cloud Guardian suddenly drops through the window, presumably coming from the roof, with his tonfa resting by his sides. He strides across the floor, and completely erases the possibility of his arrival being a coincidence when he comes to a stop in front of Takeshi.

The Rain chuckles, the hitman side hidden again behind the man's more friendly temperament. "You're late for the meeting, Kyouya."

"Where is the fight?" Kyouya asks, almost petulant.

"No fight, I was just trying to get you here."

Kyouya makes his weapons disappear and glares down at the Rain. "The next time you call me like that, there better be a fight."

"So we can call you like that?" Tsuna blurts out.

"Only if you accept the consequences," Kyouya throws over his shoulder on the way back to the window. The Cloud hops onto windowsill and leaps up, not reappearing again.

"Okay," Lambo sounds out. "That is an interesting bird call."

"I think we all agree to only use it in cases of emergencies," Hayato states.

Mukuro's laughter is definitely not an agreement.

A sigh comes from Tsuna and the Decimo drops his head onto the table top. "He's still not here for the meeting," the brunet grumbles into the wood.

Chapter Text

Kyouya moves around the large room lined with soft grey carpet and dark green wallpaper. He weaves through the array of couches, each positioned to get the best amount of sun depending on the time of day and which month it is.

A large window spans one entire wall, from floor to ceiling, and a few large pillows and blankets are moulded perfectly into nests. One wall holds matte silver racks with almost a hundred different types of weapons, well cared for and ready for use. The last two walls have neat dark wood bookshelves, only interrupted by the door.

Kyouya stops when he reaches the window and kneels beside a blanket nest, placing the shallow bowl he holds down onto the carpet. He reaches out and runs his fingers through coarse fur of the east Siberian brown bear. The two cubs pressed against the mother leap to their feet and race for the food.

Kyouya pets them gently as well, earning nudges and rough tongues on his hands. He stands and turns to find a good couch but freezes when he sees the person standing in the open doorway.

"Oh, good," Tsuna sighs in relief, trying to juggle his squirming two year old with one arm because his other is occupied by his five year old. He strides easily into the room and shoves his daughters at Kyouya. "Sorry about this, but Enma called in for some help."

Kyouya takes the two awkwardly and tries to lean away from the staring kids that automatically latch onto him.

Tsuna, meanwhile, presses short kisses to the foreheads of his kids and then plants one on Kyouya's temple. "We'll talk about the stolen bears later," Tsuna says and then calmly turns and leaves his children with someone who has never been alone with anyone under the age of sixteen ever since they hit twenty.

Tsuna takes out his phone, and just before he closes the door behind him, Kyouya can hear the man murmur a few words; "Yeah, Kyouya is in the sun room."

Kyouya peers down at the children and gets wide smiles in return. He moves quickly to the closest couch and tries to put them down but for such small, weak herbivores they cling very tightly. He spends a long minute trying to… shake them from him, but their fingers stay latched on to his yukata and those smiles don't go away.

Kyouya gives up and sits down with the children still on him. He immediately takes out his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts to find people he can give the children to, but the door opens before he can call anyone.

Takeshi waltzes in with a four year old girl on his shoulders and without a moment of hesitation he places her on Kyouya's lap, says a cheery goodbye, and kisses all three children plus Kyouya on the head before leaving.

Kyouya can hardly look back at his phone before Hayato trots in and leaves a boy beside Kyouya. Ryohei arrives next and does the exact same except with three girls of varying age.

Lambo drops by with a baby, hardly a year old, and Chrome gives Kyouya two sets of twins the exact same age. He's not sure which ones are Mukuro's since they all act like quadruplets anyway. Reborn appears inside the doorway, puts a ten year old down with a smirk and closes the door behind him.

Kyouya blinks and then looks at his very crowded room.

"I'll bite you to death!" Reborn's son chants and tries to tackle the hitman's stomach.

All four of the Mist children dart around with miniature wooden tonfa, giggling and shrieking as they lay waste to the plastic targets that have been set up. Lambo's baby girl is currently trying to fit a large plushie in her mouth, the poor toy looking like a very frazzled Hibird.

Ryohei's three are twirling and stumbling around dizzily, trying to make their new yukatas flare when they move because it would make them look so cool. Hayato's and Takeshi's two children flick marbles on the floor, the small toys having a half-translucent purple coating with silver spikes pointing inward.

And Tsuna's kids are half buried in the fur of a mother bear.

"I don't think we should let him babysit anymore," Tsuna murmurs, wondering how he would be able to coax his kids away without disturbing the bear.

Mukuro stares in horror at how the normally wild tufts of hair have been flattened on the Mist children. Flattened and curled into pompadours.

"Has anyone seen Kyouya?" Tsuna asks.

"He went back," Hayato says simply.

"Back where?" Tsuna hedges slowly, not really willing to hear the answer.

"Home," Lambo pipes up. "You know he hates being overseas."

"But Kyoko did have another baby almost half a month ago," Hayato argues. "He could have stayed longer and met little Juudaime instead of running around killing things."

"You're just jealous 'cause he went to see that fancy orchestra you like," Lambo replies. "Besides, he did meet little Tsuna. Big Tsuna showed him."

"Excuse me!" Tsuna blurts out to get them back on track before visibly trying to calm himself. "Okay," Tsuna says delicately, his body still tense. "And where is my son?"

Hayato straightens in worry. "I haven't seen him. Who had him last?"

"Kyouya did," Tsuna chokes out. "Kyoko was already out with Chrome and I didn't want to take my new born baby to the Varia compound."

"Call him!" Lambo flails. "Call him now!"

Tsuna fumbles with his phone and quickly finds Kyouya in his contact list, all three of the men internally screaming as they wait for Kyouya to pick up.

"Herbivore," Kyouya greets calmly.

"Where is my baby?!" Tsuna shrieks.

"Here," the Cloud drawls. "Obviously."

"Why did you take him to Namimori?" Tsuna blurts out. "Both of his parents are in Italy!"

There's a long silence. "Oh," Kyouya finally says. "I thought you gave him to me."

"Yes," Tsuna hisses out. "Yes, to watch. I thought it would be fine since you like cute things, and Tetsuya was with you. I didn't mean for you to keep him!"

Hayato face palms and Lambo snickers.

"Well, my mistake," Kyouya hums carelessly. "You're not getting him back." He then hangs up.

Tsuna pulls the phone away from his ear and kind of stares at it for a while.

Chapter Text

Dino is not Kyouya's teacher, despite what the man says.

The only reason Kyouya agreed to the sparring -because it really was just sparring and not teaching in any sense- is because everyone else either was too arrogant and thought themselves above Kyouya or they were too weak to give him a challenge. Even after the ring battles and the desecration of his school, he sought out the blond for the same reason.

It makes Kyouya annoyed when the mafia Don proclaims himself Kyouya's mentor, because people actually believe him. They see Kyouya's tonfa chains and start to automatically think that Dino is the mind behind them.

If Kyouya cared enough to correct their misconceptions, he would tell them about the mediocre thug with the crooked teeth and knife that moved as fast as lightning. He would show them the spikes on his tonfa and ask if that man was also Kyouya's supposed tutor.

People do the same when they see his handcuffs. They assume Alaude is someone Kyouya is trying to copy, maybe out of respect or another thing as equally ridiculous. There's no need to respect a dead man who can't even fight, and he first used them because they were yet another flame weapon and Roll turned out to be a delight.

No one ever sees the handcuffs and rightly believes them to be used only when Kyouya doesn't intend to main someone. It's incredibly hard to restrain someone with tonfa, after all.

Everyone is so intent on handing off Kyouya's victories and ability to someone else, as if he couldn't possibly have worked for it and trained himself to the level he's at by himself. Privately, Kyouya thinks it's because he's a full-blooded Japanese in an Italian mafia and he doesn't try to hide it - revels in the fact, blatantly and in front of people outside of the Vongola upper echelon.

Putting aside his musing thoughts, just because Kyouya adapted and evolved his fighting style doesn't mean he owes his entire ability to a couple of incidences where he became curious enough to test if he could be even more deadly with modifications to his weapons. His achievements and hard work aren't because of other people who only served their purpose as something to test himself against.

And that's exactly what Dino used to be; a bar so Kyouya could see his progress. The blond might not be weak but he's certainly not the best out there. Three years after their first meeting, Kyouya began winning consecutive spars with the man, not losing even once.

It only took that long to gain complete victory because Dino had seven more years, one Reborn, and a mafia background that encouraged him. Kyouya had to make do with Namimori civilians to sharpen his teeth on, most of them his age.

So Kyouya thinks it's understandable to be a little bit irritated when Dino seems to conjure himself a large place in Kyouya's life as a teacher. He likes the blond; the man is good company. But there's a very large leap from friend to mentor, and herbivores that crowd around the blond believe he's the only reason Kyouya is so successful, like Kyouya didn't work for his achievements and victories.

Kyouya can't say anything though, because he pities the man. Dino tries so hard to emulate Reborn, the great father figure after his real dad died, and yet Tsuna is the favoured student while Dino fades into being simply a close friend and ally. Kyouya sees the want in Dino's eyes, in Enzo as a replica Leon, in the blond's eagerness to help the hitman, in calling Kyouya a student and titling himself as a tutor.

One day, Kyouya is not going to be able to stand it any longer and he's going to tell Dino to stop. He's going to explain that Dino can't call himself Kyouya's tutor in any sense.

"You're here!" Dino calls out cheerfully, smiling brightly at Kyouya when the younger man steps through the door. The room lights up as it's filled with the blond's innocent happiness from just seeing Kyouya's face.

Today is not that day.

Chapter Text

Fon's way of fighting is powerful. The man uses opponent's strengths against them, redirecting and dodging hits with his higher agility and speed. Fon's battles are twisted dances that only last as long Fon wants them to.

Despite the flowing rhythm and graceful moments, Fon hits harder than a bullet and faster than the eye can see. He takes a sick pleasure in making sure his opponents don't bleed visibly, turning the organs to mush instead and watching as the body purples with trauma and internal bleeding.

Yet no matter how many times Kyouya sees the brutal, one-sided beatings, he still labels the man as weak.

In his eyes, a fighter shouldn't have to move around an opponent the way Fon does. A fighter has no need to turn momentum against another, nor to use a human body's in-built weakness that Fon takes advantage of.

In Kyouya's mind, if someone uses a hit to the back of an opponent's knee to make them crumple, it's cheating. To Kyouya, such moves are on the level of going for the eyes or aiming in between a man's legs.

It's no better than screaming and clawing at an attacker because to reach that level you have to be desperate with no other choice.

Kyouya's way of fighting is powerful. He uses solid stances and hard hits, meant to take someone down and make them stay down. He goes for his opponent's strongest defences because he has no need to seek chinks in the armour.

He's more inclined to take a hit directly in a block than to weave around, partly because he wants to feel how hard his opponents can attack, but mostly because he's strong enough that he doesn't need to dodge.

Yet no matter how many times Fon sees the brutal, one-sided beatings, he still labels the teen as weak.

In his eyes, a fighter shouldn't have more muscles than they do sense. A fighter has no need to take a hit when they could avoid it, nor to completely dismiss a fighting style just because it means tactics instead of brute strength like Kyouya refuses to take advantage of.

In Fon's mind, if someone ignores the very real need for intelligence and forward thinking to fight, they shouldn't be an opponent. To Fon, such ridiculous ideas like that need to be purged from the population.

It's not a show of strength or power if you can take a hit or ignore a perfectly suitable counter, it's simply stupidity or weakness because you didn't dodge or take the chance to injure your opponent.

Fon can defeat someone with feather light taps and a serene smile. Kyouya can make someone tremble at his very name with vicious strikes a bloodthirsty smirk. Fon is a master martial artist and uses any technique he can to fight. Kyouya is strong enough that he doesn't need technique.

The two people have such clashing ideals regarding fighting, and it shows in how they adamantly refuse to fight each other in any capacity.

Reborn is waiting eagerly for the day they finally test their fighting styles against each other. After all, he and Mammon have a betting pool going.