on the outside - part 2
Feb. 2nd, 2011 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
metisketHome exerts a strange power over almost everyone, it’s a fact. Paulo once held forth on the subject at some length, as they were packing the corpses of illegal Chinese immigrants into a container to be shipped back to China.
Iemitsu can’t remember who they’d annoyed badly enough to get stuck with that job. Someone really vindictive, apparently.
Iemitsu had made an offhand comment about how strange it was that these people had broken all kinds of laws to get themselves to Italy, had lived in Italy, in some cases, most of their lives, and yet they’d paid an absurd amount of money to be shipped back to China once they were dead and it made no everloving difference.
How, he wondered, could China still be considered home? And why did it matter?
“Your homeland is your mother,” Paulo informed him loftily. “And a man is always connected to his mother. She gives birth to him, raises him, teaches him to be who he is. Of course she’s never forgotten. That’s why.”
“Paulo, have you ever left Italy for more than a week?”
“You are missing the point. This man—” Paulo gestured to a corpse that was much the worse for wear. Iemitsu wished he hadn’t. “This man wants to dissolve back into nothing in the same ground he rose out of. The same ground as his ancestors. What’s so hard to understand? Look at his face!”
“Paulo, Jesus Christ. He hardly has one.”
“Exactly! His face is being stolen by Italy! This is wrong, you must see this!”
Iemitsu distinctly did not see this. Not at all, and his rational mind still doesn’t understand it. But as much as Paulo didn’t have any authority on the subject whatsoever, as much as his explanation made no logical sense, he still seems to have been absolutely right.
Japan has never become less than home. No matter how long he’s away, it’s still the country Iemitsu feels most comfortable in. When he lands in Narita, it feels like for the first time in months, years, however long it’s been—he can relax.
Perversely, he finds the comfortable feeling uncomfortable. He can’t stop himself from letting down his guard a little when he’s home, and that terrifies him.
In Japan, it turns out, Iemitsu has a tendency to forget how dangerous Timoteo is. He tends to treat him like a kooky uncle, rather than the manipulative serial killer he is in truth. Iemitsu knows better than to think that Timoteo didn’t plan for that.
Tsunayoshi, on the other hand, seems quite dubious about the situation in general and Timoteo in particular. Apparently he has better sense than either of his parents.
“Your husband is being very stubborn,” Timoteo tells Nana lightly, sprawled on his belly, pushing a toy truck around in front of Tsuna. Tsuna is watching him with wary eyes, ignoring the truck.
“He is stubborn, it’s true,” Nana laughs. “But what’s he being stubborn about this time?”
“Well, I offered young Tsuna a job with my company.” Iemitsu loves how company rolls so easily off his tongue, the shameless old fraud. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Tsuna?” Tsuna stares silently. “When you’re much older, of course! But Iemitsu won’t hear anything of it.”
“It’s a dangerous job,” Iemitsu grits out. “And Tsuna’s not suited for it.”
“He’s not even six years old, dear,” Nana says, smiling. “How can you tell he’s not suited?”
Well, he doesn’t routinely beat up his fellow kindergartners, for one thing. “He isn’t. Trust me.”
Timoteo has finally coaxed Tsuna into halfheartedly playing with the truck, though his attention is still mostly on the stranger. Unfortunately, he’s starting to look more fascinated than afraid. It’s the effect Timoteo usually has on people.
“There’s good money in it,” Timoteo goes on. “Same line of work as his father! And his father, of course, has a fearsome reputation.”
Nana beams happily. Iemitsu suspects she’d still be beaming even if she knew that his reputation is for swift, merciless retribution. He sighs. “It’s not for everyone, Nana. It’s brutal work, and most people don’t—”
“Oh, but he’s still so young. Can’t we wait? Let’s wait and see what kind of man he grows into. You can decide then, when you can discuss it with him. You wouldn’t make decisions about his life without asking him, would you?”
Actually, he would. You don’t so much ask people to join the mafia as you make sure they have no other options. It’s the last thing a decent man would want for his son.
“I’m only asking you to keep the possibility in mind, Iemitsu,” Timoteo puts in smoothly, eyes on Tsuna, who’s offering him a toy airplane. Tsuna hasn’t spoken a word since Timoteo walked in the door. Where did he learn to be so cautious? “Don’t refuse me outright. The situation might not arise, but if it does—tell me you’ll consider it then.”
Iemitsu exchanges a glance with Nana. She shrugs at him, thoughtful, but not worried. That’s only because she doesn’t know Timoteo the way Iemitsu does. Iemitsu closes his eyes and breathes in. “I will.” Two nails in a coffin. “But nothing starts until you tell me. I reserve the right to refuse if I believe it will destroy him.”
“Understood,” the Ninth murmurs.
Nana sighs, stands, collects the plates and bustles them away to the kitchen. Timoteo and Tsuna both watch her go.
Tsuna catches Timoteo’s hand and says, “Mama will maybe bring a snack.”
So Timoteo’s won Tsuna over, too. Fantastic.
* * *
“I’m sorry to keep you from home so much, my lion,” the Ninth says as Iemitsu walks him to the gate. It’s very like him to apologize for one of the few things he’s done that doesn’t require an apology. “Your family is charming.”
Iemitsu shrugs. “Not your fault.” And if there’s one God’s honest truth in all this fucking mess, it’s that Iemitsu has no business raising a child. If he spends too much time with Tsuna, he starts acting exactly like his own father. Well, with one exception. Iemitsu’s dad always ran away once he’d taken it too far. Iemitsu does at least manage to run sooner.
“Your wife is a very understanding woman.”
His wife, who’d thrown herself bodily between him and his tiny son when he was about to backhand the boy over nothing, the first and only time he’d stayed home so long. His wife, who’d held him while he shook and gasped and tried to explain. His wife, who’d let him run away to the airport the next morning with a bright smile and a warm hug and no complaints. His Nana.
“You have no idea.”
* * *
There’s a little boy in CEDEF headquarters. Reborn led him to the boss’s office—Iemitsu’s office, now—by the hand. The kid had to stoop to make that work.
Some Shimon fragment killed the former boss last year. Iemitsu took care of that (what a mess), and as punishment for his sins, ended up boss himself.
No one argued about his new status. Not even Lal, which is depressing. She hardly argues about anything anymore; the Arcobaleno disaster shattered her confidence. Iemitsu’s starting to worry that she’ll never argue again.
The promotion also means that Iemitsu is the new outside advisor to the Vongola. Therefore, at least in theory, Timoteo will now listen to his recommendations.
Ha ha. Ha.
All the promotion means to Reborn, obviously, is that Iemitsu is the one responsible for any broken little kids in his territory. The privileges of power, wow.
This kid is a wreck, a disaster. Iemitsu knows the look: dead parents, dead friends, no home to go back to. He saw the same look in a mirror, once upon a time. The difference is, this kid also has the look of a duckling desperate to imprint. It takes people that way sometimes.
“Why the kid?”
Reborn smiles. “You two will get along.”
Iemitsu looks at the kid. The kid looks at the floor. He’s around Tsuna’s age.
Timoteo thinks he’s subtle, but actually he’s just a jackass. “I don’t need this right now, Reborn.”
Reborn opens his mouth, but the kid, showing a marked lack of common sense, cuts him off. “Sir,” he says. “I know I don’t…look like much, but I. I’m very young? People aren’t afraid to talk in front of me because. They think I don’t listen. But I listen.”
Interesting. “Yeah? What do you know about me, then?”
“Iemitsu Sawada, head of CEDEF, friends with Vongola Ninth, friends with the assassin Reborn, scary but fair unless you threaten his people in which case just scary. Has been associated with the Vongola since he was fifteen, mysterious circumstances. Has a wife in Namimori in Japan as well as one son, but people don’t know that because the assassin Reborn kills anyone who finds out, except for me, because he thought I could be useful.”
The kid stops and gasps for air. No wonder; he delivered that whole spiel without pause. Wow. Well, alright. Maybe Iemitsu could use an obedient little recording device, come to that. He may not know what to do with kids, but he does know how to treat his men.
…So Reborn kills anybody who finds out about Nana and Tsuna, does he?
Good.
“Fine, kid,” Iemitsu says. “You win. Your name’s Basil, okay?”
The kid looks up for the first time—wide-open, sweet face, shattered eyes. “But my name is—”
“Basil.”
He blinks a few times, then smiles. “Okay, boss. I’m Basil.”
“Training is going to suck. I’m just letting you know that right now.”
“I don’t mind!”
Reborn is smirking. He is not gracious in victory. Or defeat either, actually.
* * *
Iemitsu has spent a grand total of five years in his son’s company the day the Ninth calls in his debt. Tsuna probably only clearly remembers a year or two of that time. Iemitsu remembers even less; he spent most of it drunk.
That’s something he has over his dad. He’s a happy drunk, not a mean one.
“Are you going to…hm. Invoke your right to refuse?” the Ninth asks. He knows perfectly well that Iemitsu won’t refuse, but he might at least have the grace not to rub it in.
There’s no point in refusing now. The mafia won’t destroy Iemitsu’s son. Tsuna grew up fatherless, knowing that no one would protect him. Nana is a wonderful woman, but she never was especially intimidating.
There’s no easier target than a boy who believes he’s alone and defenseless.
No, the Vongola won’t destroy Tsuna. Even in absentia, Iemitsu’s managed to arrange for Tsuna to destroy himself.
“I’d like to send Reborn,” Ninth says in the quiet tone of one making funeral arrangements over the body of a person who isn’t quite dead yet. At least he understands what it is he’s doing.
Reborn, Iemitsu’s criminal big brother. Possibly the world’s deadliest living creature. Merciless, too—if he’s ever felt a glimmer of remorse in his life, he’s surely never let Iemitsu see it.
Reborn loves children. He’s good with them. It’s bizarre.
Iemitsu closes his eyes. “Do it.”
Tsuna, forgive me.
* * *
Nana seems a little worried, but at least she’s having fun pretending she doesn’t know anything. It’s like I’m a spy, too, she says, and laughs.
Iemitsu, sadly, is having less fun. “How’s my son doing?” he says into the phone.
“You are a most peculiar man,” Reborn says thoughtfully, and hangs up on him.
Iemitsu sighs at the dial tone. The dial tone is indifferent to his plight. “I swear to God,” he mutters to no one, “that bastard gets weirder every year.”
The thing is, Nana used to be able to tell him absolutely everything about Tsuna. Now all she can tell him is, The usual, and then he was whisked away by Reborn and his interesting new friends, and I didn’t see him again for six hours. At which point he was covered in blood, most of which was apparently not his own. Are you sure this is a good idea, dear?
No. In short, no.
* * *
“How’s my son?” Iemitsu demands of the phone. And is met with a lot of crackly, international-call silence.
“Are you pretending you care again?” Dino responds in his own sweet time, the little snot. “Stop it. It’s creepy.”
“Look, orphaned wonder, parents almost always worry about their kids, even the crappy parents. How is my son?”
Another long pause. “He’s being trained by Reborn. I think the word for that is tormented. Otherwise, he seems fine. Like a good kid. Nothing like you. I’m a little unclear on whether you’ve ever actually met him.”
Like many things Dino says, this smacks of a Paulo lecture. The kid hardly remembers his father, and yet they’re eerily similar in many ways. A fact that terrifies Iemitsu every time he notices it. Nature, nurture, dangerous possibilities.
“Shove it up your ass, Dino. I can’t wait until you have kids. We’ll have this talk again then.”
Iemitsu enjoys the hell out of the pause that follows, because this one is hilariously awkward. Dino’s probably wondering if Iemitsu somehow managed to miss how flamingly gay he is. Hey, whatever, he could still have kids. “It’s not biologically impossible,” Iemitsu concludes aloud. Then he hangs up.
There is one way in which Dino’s not like his father at all. He’s much, much easier to screw with.
* * *
Everything seemed to be going well. Yes, Iemitsu’s son was training to lead a criminal organization, but, as far as Nana could tell, he was more or less enjoying it. Meanwhile, the mafia world was staying obligingly calm. Business as usual, no fireworks. Timoteo hadn’t even come up with any especially bizarre ideas for a while.
Iemitsu should have known better than to trust any of it. Like an idiot, he let his guard down, and now everything has gone to shit. And like many other fuckups in recent history, this one centers around Xanxus.
Ninth should have let Reborn kill Xanxus after Cradle. Instead, he had one of his bleeding heart moments, and forbade it. But fine. To leave Xanxus alive is one thing; weak, but forgivable. To allow Xanxus to lead the Vongola is another thing entirely. It’s unacceptable, and if Timoteo weren’t out of his goddamn mind, he would know that.
He always knew it before.
Something stinks here. Iemitsu would suspect a plot, but it’s too subtle for Xanxus—or at least it’s too subtle for the Xanxus Iemitsu knew. But hey, maybe he spent all his time on ice brooding this up.
Or maybe leading CEDEF has driven Iemitsu paranoid and delusional. Could be.
Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter whether these are really Timoteo’s orders or not. He wanted Iemitsu’s son as his successor? He’s got him. He made the mistake of talking Iemitsu into it, and now it’s done, no backing out. Whether it’s good for Tsuna or not, this is the only way for the Vongola. Xanxus would destroy the Vongola.
The choice between Family and family. It’s a choice Iemitsu made years ago. It’s no choice at all.
But there is one thing Iemitsu can do right for his son. Timoteo picked his own guardians, and in Iemitsu’s considered opinion, he deliberately picked a bunch of loyal goofs who would never pose any threat to his position. The puppy dog mafia.
Iemitsu will pick Tsuna’s guardians, and they will be the most intimidating bunch of thugs in their generation. No one’s going to fuck with Iemitsu’s son the way they do with Timoteo.
The guardians will be shield and sword. The guardians will be scary as hell.
* * *
“Hah! Now there’s a face that brings back memories. Sawada Iemitsu, my God. It’s been years.”
“Yeah, it’s been ten years. At least.”
“Unbelievable. A lot’s changed, huh? Looks like your kid’s going for the top now. And he’s taking mine with him.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Iemitsu explains, just to be on the safe side. The problem with Yamamoto Tsuyoshi is, it’s hard to tell that he’s angry until he cuts you in half.
“It wasn’t your idea for your kid or mine?”
“Both.”
“Ah.” Tsuyoshi sets down his sushi knife, which is a comfort to Iemitsu. “Ninth, then.”
“Ninth. And Reborn.”
“Both? That’s enough to give a person nightmares. Yeah. I’ve been watching your son for a while.” Tsuyoshi picks up the knife again, but he only uses it for its intended, fish-related purpose. “Which is more than you can say. He could have used a father, growing up.”
“I was busy.”
“So was I. And then I had a kid, and now look! I make sushi.”
“It was…dangerous.”
“Mhmm. Because people were watching you?”
Because I couldn’t be trusted with him. He doesn’t say it. He tries not to even think it too loudly. Tsuyoshi hears it anyway; this is why he was once the scariest intelligence operative CEDEF had.
“Hm,” is all he says. He can be merciful sometimes. “I assume you’re not here for the food, what with the breaking and entering outside of store hours and all. What’s going on?”
“I’m thinking of offering your son the rain ring.”
Tsuyoshi’s knife slips. This never happens. “What?”
“Well, he’s calm, he’s deadly, he’s—”
“Fifteen years old.”
“When was your first kill?”
“That was then. It was a rougher time—or a rougher place, anyway. And no one was proposing to make us guardians. What’s Ninth thinking?”
Iemitsu sighs and rubs his face. “I don’t think he is thinking. There’s something off about all of this. First he bends over backward to train Tsuna, and now he’s turned around and nominated Xanxus.”
The knife slips again, and this time Tsuyoshi sets it down. “After Cradle, he nominates Xanxus.”
“Right.”
“The hell he does.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Your people looking into it?”
“They have been. But it’ll all be decided before they find anything worth knowing.”
Tsuyoshi steps back from his counter and turns to give Iemitsu his full attention. “You’re not just offering my son the rain ring,” he says. “You’re planning to make him fight for it. Battle for the rings. For the succession.”
“I’m sorry.”
Tsuyoshi stares in that unnervingly direct, fearless way of his. “I heard a rumor,” he says, “that you didn’t want your son in the mafia at all.”
Iemitsu doesn’t answer.
“So. Xanxus.”
“Xanxus.”
“We can’t have Xanxus. Were you asking my permission before you gave Takeshi the ring?”
“Timoteo asked my permission. It seemed fair.”
Tsuyoshi snorts and turns back to his counter. “Ninth never asks anyone’s permission, he just makes it look that way. But you have my permission, for what it’s worth.”
“Because you’re worried about Xanxus?”
Tsuyoshi pauses in his chopping, eyes focused on the middle distance. “No. I guess…because I want to see what Takeshi can really do.” A beat. “You asking permission for Gokudera?”
“Sure. I’m asking Shamal.”
Tsuyoshi laughs. “I like it!”
* * *
“The mafia,” Nana says, frowning fiercely.
This is the first time Iemitsu’s been home since the battle for the rings, and it is apparently time to face the music. He managed to put Nana off over the phone, but it’s impossible to put her off in person.
“You didn’t want to know,” Iemitsu reminds her.
“When my son is bleeding,” she hisses, “I want to know why. When children living in my house are beaten and electrocuted, I want to know why. When my son’s friends are hacked up and covered in burn scars—”
“I wanted to wait,” Iemitsu insists. “I didn’t think this would start so soon, I thought—”
She sits at the kitchen table opposite him, plants her elbows, and stares with all the intensity she can muster. Which is a lot; it’s just that she uses it very rarely. “So what happened?”
“Someone challenged.”
“Challenged. Challenged for what?”
“The title…of boss.”
“So when Timoteo said he had a job in mind for Tsuna, he meant he had a job as a mafia boss in mind for Tsuna.”
“Right.” This is starting to feel like an interrogation.
“So that’s why you wanted the right to refuse.” Iemitsu nods. Nana steeples her fingers thoughtfully. “Well,” she says, “I see why you didn’t.”
“You do?”
She gives him a stern look. Of course. They always understand each other.
“But then someone challenged, and Tsuna had to fight him?”
“Right.”
“This other person must have been really…terrible. To make Tsuna angry enough to fight.”
Iemitsu smiles in memory. “I’d never actually seen him angry before.”
She smiles sadly back and doesn’t say, You haven’t seen all that much of Tsuna. “Then his friends, too…Lambo?”
Iemitsu sighs. “Lambo will grow into it. He’s from a mafia family anyway, the same as Gokudera. This was always going to be his life.”
Nana sits back and stares. Iemitsu stays very still, waiting for his judgment to come down.
In the end, all she says is, “Thank you for telling me.” And she goes to make dinner.
Iemitsu has never deserved to have Nana as his wife. But it’s nice when life is unfair in the good way.
* * *
After the heart-to-heart with Nana, Iemitsu took a helicopter out to the middle of the ocean off a random island (flashbacks to his own first job offer, there). He had to; he wanted to see the Ninth, and this is where the Ninth’s yacht will be parked for the foreseeable future.
It takes Iemitsu ten full minutes to realize that the entire situation is surreal. He’s clearly known Timoteo far too long.
“He refused,” the Ninth says, blankly astonished. “He refused.”
Iemitsu could count on one hand the number of people who’ve refused the Ninth anything, and he wouldn’t use all the fingers. He’s never managed to refuse Timoteo anything himself, though he’s tried.
But his son refused. Iemitsu is far more proud than he has any right to be.
“That’s because you pushed.” he explains. “You never push my son. He’s a master of passive resistance, and if you push him past that, you hit the active resistance. You have to pull.”
The Ninth twirls his moustache, which, Iemitsu reflects, may be the most annoying habit he has. Not that it isn’t difficult to choose. “You know your son surprisingly well,” he murmurs. “All things considered.”
“I know, right? Sometimes it seems like I know mine better than you know yours. Funny, considering yours grew up in the same house and all.” If Timoteo wants to play dirty, they can play dirty. Fine.
“Well,” Timoteo says, the usual humor completely stripped from his voice. A point to Iemitsu. “It looks like the Shimon family pulled for me.”
“Lucky you.”
“Indeed. They’ve just told me you have a bit of history with the Shimon yourself.” A look of grim unhappiness.
Shimon. Iemitsu knows the name, of course, and the status (nonentity). He can’t remember whether he has personal history with them or not, though. It’s possible. Iemitsu has history with a lot of families. “I do?”
* * *
Tsuna won, of course. This is a new thing Iemitsu is learning about his stranger of a son: Tsuna always wins when it counts. Whatever it takes.
In honor of their victory and continued survival, the tenth generation is rewarded with a trip to Sorrento. They’re staying at one of Timoteo’s houses, allegedly learning the ropes. Iemitsu suspects that Timoteo’s actually trying to brainwash them or something creepy like that. He also suspects it won’t work, so he hasn’t done anything to stop it. Let them have their vacation in Sorrento.
He does visit the house, just to check up on the state of things (the better to report back to Nana). He’s accosted by an angry Storm Guardian before he even makes it to the door.
Tsuna’s guardians are going to be something nightmarish when they’re grown. It makes Iemitsu smile.
“Where,” says Gokudera Hayato, “have you been?”
Iemitsu takes a moment to appreciate what Tsuna’s done for this boy, formerly known as The Kid Most Likely to Blow Himself Up with His Own Bombs. And look at him now! Confident, settled, mouthing off to the head of CEDEF. Tsuna’s going to grow up to have even more disturbing people skills than Timoteo, Iemitsu can tell.
“I’ve been busy,” he answers. Gokudera, despite what he seems to think, doesn’t actually have the right to question a member of CEDEF. Still, Iemitsu’s willing to humor his son’s guardians.
“Busy? Since the ring battle, you’ve been busy?”
Iemitsu shrugs. “It’s the life.”
Interesting that Gokudera Hayato is much more bothered by Iemitsu’s absence than Tsuna is. A certain amount of empathy there, of course. (Iemitsu’s deliberately avoided Gokudera’s father for years. No need for meetings of the Terrible Fathers’ Club, for Christ’s sake.) Gokudera’s asked more questions today than Tsuna ever has. The sum total of Tsuna’s non-Vongola-related conversations with his father over the past three years have consisted of variations on the phrase, “Why are you here?”
“Fine, so you’ve been busy lately. Why weren’t you ever around?” Gokudera demands. It’s almost funny.
“Well,” Iemitsu murmurs, “it was either cowardice or courage. To be honest, kid, I’ve never figured out which one.”
Gokudera frowns in perfectly understandable bafflement. “But you want to be around, right?”
“Of course I love my son.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Gokudera,” interrupts the voice of the son in question. “Here you—oh.” Tsuna’s face, so open and willing to be pleased when he spotted Gokudera, goes briefly panicked and unhappy at the sight of his father, then shuts down completely. A nothing expression, appropriate for strangers.
“Dad,” he says. “What are you doing here?”
* * *
Tsuna’s turning twenty today. A man, and no mistake. Hell, after five years as heir to the Vongola, he’d be a man even if he were turning twelve. But the law recognizes it now. No confusion.
It’s an awkward party, or at least, it is for Iemitsu. He’s never felt like a somewhat unwelcome stranger in his own house before. That said, if he could just forget for a minute that it is, in fact, his house, the party would be a blast. He never gets tired of seeing how right he was to choose the guardians he did for his son. In this one thing, he didn’t let Tsuna down.
Chrome Dokuro is lurking by the food, which is hilarious, because she always looks like she’s never eaten in her life. Iemitsu catches her watching him. She watches everything. She’s as bad as he is—maybe worse. She nods respectfully, then turns and murmurs something to Bianchi. Cadging recipes from the Poison Scorpion?
Iemitsu decides he isn’t eating anything at this party that didn’t come directly from Nana’s hand. Chrome might not poison him, but Mukuro would. And Chrome wouldn’t stop him, is the thing. Iemitsu doubts they’d kill him, but he doesn’t know what other creative ideas they might come up with. His head is unluckily full of information they want.
He looks away from the Mist Guardian; they’re starting to freak him out.
Next to Chrome is Lambo, older now, though still too young. He’s chattering to I-Pin without drawing breath. He’s going to grow into something amazing, Iemitsu knows, but truth be told, he would’ve picked I-Pin for lightning if he could have gotten away with it. Nothing doing, though. She belongs to an Arcobaleno, and it’s not smart to take away their toys.
The good news is, I-Pin’s forever hanging around with Lambo, which means Iemitsu gets two for one. Such a deal.
Ryouhei is standing in the middle of the room ranting about the extreme extremity of Christ knows what. Boxing. The mafia. Delicious tempura. Could be anything. He’s a sun type, all right. Crazy bastards are all the same.
Oh, the bad Lussuria memories.
Gokudera is standing in the kitchen, back to a wall, shoulder to Yamamoto’s. He looks like he’s sulking, but he’s making Yamamoto laugh—and judging from his little sidelong glances at Yamamoto’s face, he’s doing it deliberately. For once.
Tsuna wanders by, smiles at them both, and casually steals Gokudera’s cigarette right out of his mouth. Gokudera’s eyes sadly follow the cigarette as it gets farther and farther away, and is eventually put out in the sink and tossed into the trash. Tsuna exchanges a meaningful nod with Kyoko, who folds her arms and spins to face Gokudera. I have my eye on you. Haru laughs.
The campaign to make him quit smoking is still in full force, then. Yamamoto pats his shoulder sympathetically; Gokudera sighs.
Cigarette mission accomplished, Tsuna keeps on walking, heading out back—to talk to Hibari, who’s skulking around outside like an alley cat, pretending he just happened to wander into the neighborhood today.
Reborn says Hibari’s actually started giving Tsuna reports, in the form of, “You never noticed this, this, or this, did you? That’s because you’re an herbivore. Get out of my way before I bite you to death.” Kid’s turning into a regular softy.
Iemitsu waits ten minutes, because that’s about as long as Hibari can stand to be around anyone, even Tsuna. Then he heads to the door himself.
Iemitsu opens the back door just as Haru opens the front one to let in—
Ah. Enma of the Shimon. And company.
Enma’s eyes meet Iemitsu’s across the room, and the poor bastard obviously has no idea what he’s supposed to feel. He believed for a short but intense time that Iemitsu had killed his mother and sister. They’ve seen each other maybe twice in the years since he learned otherwise, and it hasn’t been enough to get him past that instinctive rage response.
Iemitsu nods to Enma, steps outside, and closes the door. Agitating the kid serves no purpose.
It’s lucky everyone worked out that Iemitsu hadn’t killed Enma’s loved ones before they got a chance to ask him. He definitely killed some Shimon at some point, he remembers that much. And while he doesn’t normally kill women and children, it does happen. Collateral damage. He sees no benefit in keeping track.
It’s damned lucky no one asked him.
“You’ve got some new guests,” he tells Tsuna, who is indeed alone, gazing bemusedly into the night, presumably in the direction Hibari went.
“Yes,” Tsuna answers absently. “Hibari-san told me.”
Iemitsu chose Tsuna’s guardians well.
“I should go say hello…” Tsuna looks up and his voice trails off. Iemitsu doesn’t know what Tsuna sees in his face, but it causes him to conclude with, “But it can wait.” He widens his eyes expectantly. Listening.
Son, you are officially more lethal than Timoteo. “Nah, don’t keep them waiting on my account. I just thought…” Just thought what? That they’d strike up some kind of normal father-son relationship at this late date? He’s lost that chance a hundred times over. “Nothing.”
Tsuna’s giving him a very complicated look. Iemitsu’s not even sure he wants to know what it means. He flails around for something to say, and falls back on the old mafia standby. They have that much in common now. Right?
“I wouldn’t trust Shimon so much, if I were you,” Iemitsu says, and, more importantly, the outside advisor to the Vongola says. He understands that he’s done nothing to make Tsuna personally fond of him, but he earned his position.
Tsuna looks confused and young for just a second before he hides behind the enigmatic, pleasant mask he usually wears these days. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“Just a hunch. But my hunches are generally pretty good.”
Tsuna gives a tentative smile. “Yeah. So are mine.” Little Vongola joke, there.
“I don’t think it’s a great idea to be inviting them to Family events. It’s going too far.”
Tsuna meets Iemitsu’s eyes and settles into a long study. Iemitsu reminds himself that it’s irrational to be intimidated by his own son.
“Thank you for your advice,” Tsuna says eventually, very formal and a little disappointed. “But I disagree.”
He turns on his heel and walks back into the house, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click. Iemitsu wishes he’d slammed it. But then he wouldn’t, would he? Isn’t that the point?
“You must be proud of him,” Reborn says—orders, maybe—from his unlikely perch under the eaves. (Iemitsu has long stopped wondering such things as when the hell did he get here? with Reborn.)
“And nothing for me to do but choke on it,” Iemitsu murmurs back. “The last thing he wants is to hear something like that from me.”
Reborn maintains silence.
“I didn’t know what else to do.” Tsuna had been a tiny child. So tiny, so delicate, a creature someone like Iemitsu could break by accident. Would inevitably break by accident. Courage or cowardice? “I still don’t know what else I could have done.”
“I always felt the drunken stupor was unnecessary.”
Iemitsu laughs. “Maybe. But I can’t do anything stupid if I’m semiconscious, yeah?”
It must be some kind of secret Arcobaleno technique, the way they can give a look so expressive of utter contempt without seeming to use any facial muscles. Lal is definitely the winner of this contest, but Reborn’s giving her a run for her money at the moment. “Hmph,” he says, hopping down to wander after Tsuna. But he pauses at the door. “Your son has grown into a decent man. Some might say…a credit to his parents.” He tips his hat ambiguously, walks inside, and slams the door.
Iemitsu smiles after him.
* * *
“I told you,” Iemitsu murmurs to Nana as they’re clearing up after the party, having shooed Tsuna and his friends away when they tried to help. Away to their base and their power struggles and their complete lack of young adulthood. “I told you I’d be a terrible father.”
Nana’s hands pause in washing a plate. “You’re not proud of him?”
“Of course I’m proud of him. But he shouldn’t have to be…” He shouldn’t have to be an old man at twenty, for Christ’s sake. Iemitsu sets a stack of dirty plates next to Nana, sinks down into the nearest chair, and puts his head in his hands. He was an old man at twenty, himself. He’d been hoping for better for his son. And I still went and fucked it up, didn’t I?
“Maybe he shouldn’t.” Nana sets down the plate she was washing, wipes her hands on a towel, and turns to look at him, eyes full of the perfect, silent understanding that caused him to break a vow and get married. “But it’s too late now, Iemitsu.”
Too late for what? To not have kids, to leave the mafia, to save his son?
Yes, no, all of that. “I know.”
She steps up next to his chair, and he leans against her. She cradles his head in her hands. “He’s not unhappy.”
Iemitsu’s laughter is muffled into her apron. “For as long as he lives, eh?”
Her fingers card through his hair in strange patterns; she’s trying to work something out. “Isn’t it the same for everyone? He was always unhappy before. He was…lost. Before.”
Iemitsu sighs. Nana gave him permission to do this to their son. Does that make it all right? Or does it just mean they’re both horrible parents?
“It’s the same for everyone, but it’s also a question of odds,” he breathes. “Still. It’s too late now.”
“Too late now,” she agrees softly.
They understand each other. They always have.
* * *
At first glance, he’s nothing more than a businessman in a ridiculously opulent room that doesn’t match the simple, elegant lines of his suit. But the longer one watches, the more interesting he becomes.
Despite his undeniably sweet expression, he stands with the unconscious assurance and equally unconscious weariness of police, bodyguards, and hitmen—people who believe they are not only allowed, but obligated to subdue by force anyone in need of it. His gentle requests are acted upon with a speed and accuracy that imply barked orders. He stands in a poorly-lit corner, and yet the entire room centers around him. His eyes never stop moving for long.
This is Tsuna’s first Family event as Vongola X. It’s going very well, and Iemitsu is enjoying watching his son. It’s an interesting thing, to observe a man observing. Tsuna is still and controlled, alert but calm. His eyes flit over those he suspects are enemies, quick and unhappy. They linger on windows and doorways. They hesitate and lose themselves in contemplation of his loved ones.
They don’t touch Iemitsu at all.
This is the man Iemitsu always saw behind the bumbling son filtered through photographs and secondhand reports. This. His mother’s bottomless, quiet resolve. His father’s veiled rage. A sense of naïve justice he must have inherited by some quirk of genetics from Primo himself. Timid, inept Tsunayoshi always had it in him to become the undisputed leader of the Vongola. And now he has.
Iemitsu looks down at his hands, turns them reflectively over and back again. They’ve been the hands of a murderer since he was fifteen years old. Nothing has changed.
If Paulo were here, he’d be standing at Tsuna’s side, giving him all kinds of crap. He’d drag Iemitsu and Dino along with him, and force them all to talk. He’d make Tsuna call him Zio Paulo.
Paulo’s been dead for twenty years.
Iemitsu’s kicked out of that fit of brooding by a hostile, sharp presence at his side, a whisper of cloth and a hint of delicate scent—the Poison Scorpion thinks toxic perfumes are funny. “Sawada,” she murmurs, staring him aggressively in the eye, which is weird. He doesn’t think he’s had time to piss her off. They’ve almost never crossed paths.
“Poison Scorpion.” He nods. Bianchi, mysteriously, curls her lip at him.
“I’m amazed you’re here. It’s surprisingly Father of the Year of you.”
Ah, so that’s what the problem is. Iemitsu turns briefly away to hide a smile. So the Poison Scorpion has a soft spot for his son, too, the same as her brother. Who’d have guessed? “I wanted to see him at his best.”
“Why do you care?” she sneers. “You’re less of a father to him than my father is to Hayato. Don’t pretend.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Then don’t be stupid. Know what you are.”
Such wary, wounded eyes, the Poison Scorpion has. Know what you are. Yes. She must know how painful it is to know yourself. “I appreciate your advice. Young lady.”
Her fingers are twitching with the need to smash his face into something deadly. She really is fond of his son, isn’t she? But then, she’s always been devoted to Reborn, and Reborn…well, it doesn’t exactly count as defection when the Ninth so clearly endorsed the Tenth, but it’s a near thing.
“But I already know what I am,” Iemitsu continues calmly before Bianchi can do something rash and inadvertently ruin Tsuna’s party.
Her fingers still and her eyes narrow. After a moment, she bares her teeth in a non-smile and turns away from him. “Good,” she says. And stalks back to her brother’s side.
Her brother, who’s earned far more of Tsuna’s love and trust than Iemitsu ever will. All the guardians have, and it’s only proper. Iemitsu knows what he is, after all. He knows exactly what he is.
He’s Sawada Iemitsu, who has never managed to protect a single person he loves. He’s the Vongola’s outside advisor, famous for doing the unspeakable in the name of necessity. He’s a great assassin, and a terrible father.
He’s the man who made Vongola X.
He should never be forgiven.
back to Part 1
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-03 05:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-03 08:37 pm (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-03 08:04 pm (UTC)Also, how much do I love the bits about Tsuyoshi cutting you in half, and Tsuna's alarming people skills? *hearts*
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-03 08:45 pm (UTC)haha, Tsuyoshi. Why DOES he know Iemitsu? And Tsuna ♥, he's going to grow up to be such a menace. ^_^
Thank you so much for the comments! ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-04 12:54 am (UTC)This is amazing, and awesome in so many ways. I love how Iemitsu is utterly open eyed about every single one of his decisions. How he made them and will stick be them, and sure he wanted something different for his son, but he is not about to mope about it when things is what it is.
I also love how Iemitsu is also so utterly self-delusional, to think that he made Tsuna. Sure, he might have picked Tsuna's guardians, and he saw what was inside of Tsuna early on, but he also missed the fact Tsuna is all about forgiveness. How if Iemitsu had let Tsuna see, Tsuna would have understood, and sure maybe they never will have the father-and-son relationship, there would have been respect. It is like Iemitsu is all about how he created the Vongola X, but forgot that Tsuna made his own choices, and that Tsuna is no longer a child.
Anyway, LOVES, and thank you for writing this.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-04 05:24 am (UTC)Yes, Iemitsu seems nothing if not sure of himself. He never seems especially HAPPY, but he's not at all uncertain. *salutes him*
The second part--I figure a lot of parents have a tough time with the idea that their kids are completely their own people...and I think that would be compounded for Iemitsu, because he knows that he's responsible for Tsuna's career. And fic!Iemitsu has a tendency to take credit for everything bad, and to refuse to take credit for anything good. :/ Yeesh.
He and Tsuna definitely just don't understand each other, which is the biggest problem. *shakes them* Anyway.
Thank you again for the comment! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-04 01:12 am (UTC)This is a brilliant story- and now I want nothing more than for Tsuna & him to have some sort of reconciliation. Because now Tsuna's an adult perhaps Iemitsu could be less afraid- and forgiving people is something Tsuna's really good at. Having Iemitsu just give up on any chance to build a relationship with his son is just really sad.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-04 05:34 am (UTC)...He really is so fucked up. ;_; IT'S THE ONLY WAY I CAN EXPLAIN HIS BEHAVIOR, THOUGH.
But yes! If I were to write an epilogue to this, it would go something like:
Papamoto: Tsuna! Sit down, have some sushi! So, about your father's horrific childhood and subsequent misguided attempts to avoid scarring you for life [etc etc etc]. Bear it in mind. So how's the sushi? Think it'd be better with more wasabi?
Tsuna: Wait. Wait, WHAT?
Papamoto: I like wasabi! Other people, they say too much ruins the fish.
Tsuna: Hang on, the part about my dad--
Papamoto: It's great that Takeshi's home! I guess you guys are working hard, huh? But it's so nice to see him!
Tsuna: *gives up*
And then I think once Tsuna had that information, he would become essentially Nana #2 and there would be NOWHERE ON EARTH IEMITSU COULD HIDE.
Could be awesome? Will probably not happen until Tsuna's in his 30s, has the Vongola sort of under control, and Tsuyoshi feels he can handle the added distraction. So hopefully Iemitsu will survive that long. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-04 02:01 pm (UTC)