Chapter 21

The wind that greets him is harsh and cold in comparison to the inside of the bar but Tsuna is already getting used to the weather so with just a soft intake of breath he glances up at the cloudy, darkening sky, and mourns the morning rain that made him decide to not use his bike for the day. He should probably buy an impermeable coat if the rain continues, but he'll already spend too much on the new bed and other furniture.

Ten minutes pass by with him trying to keep both hands inside his pockets without the umbrella falling to the ground when he sees it.

He immediately stops in the spot, not glancing to the place that shouldn't be there but still is. A small voice inside his mind thinks, "Oh, so that's where the dread comes from."

It doesn't reassure him in any way of course, but there's nothing he can do about it because, one, he knows ignoring it won't make it go away; and two, he's the one who asked for the visit. He takes a deep breath and turns around. The first thing he realizes is how the ramen shop horribly clashes with the architecture of the buildings next to it, but taking into account is not in the middle of the forest this time around, he should probably feel grateful.

He won't though.

With a sigh, he walks forward until he's standing in front of it, the smell of ramen strong and welcomed, though he won't ever admit it out loud, it's a piece of the culture—his culture—he misses. His hand moves to lift up the flops that hide the half of the shop where he expects to see the high counter with a bowl of ramen already on it, Kawahira-san behind it with his own bowl, probably taking the last bite before he gives him that close-eyed smile that makes him look like a fox.

It doesn't happen like that, because of course, his life can't be that easy. The bowl is right there, alright, but the person behind the counter is not.

"How long will you continue standing there with your mouth hanging open, young Tenth?"

His mouth closes with a click, but his eyes never leave the figure of Daemon Spade wearing a weird green apron, standing where Kawahira-san is supposed to be.

"Er. Shouldn't you be…" Dead? Plotting? Closer to the Vongola HQ? "… Not here?"

Daemon gives him a smile that shows how much he knows about what's going on inside his head. "Not even a 'hello'? Has the Arcobaleno neglected to teach you basic manners?"

There are a couple of things he wants to point out, especially after all the grief that he's given him. What comes out though is, "You know?"

"I do," the man (ghost?) confirms with a smirk and that weird laugh of his before making a chair-like throne appear behind him, reminiscent of the one Xanxus uses but with more indigo in it. He sits with a poise that fits an aristocrat and throws the high pigtail—he just noticed he has that along with his usual weird hairstyle—over a shoulder. "You may be wondering if the being you call Kawahira disclosed the information to me or simply brought me from the future as he did with you."

He's actually wondering what's up with the apron and why he's wearing it. He's sure it says 'kiss the chef' on the front but English has never been his strong subject, so he doesn't know. What he does know is that it won't be smart to mention it, so he nods and moves to sit on one of the chairs. "I don't think you would agree with anything Kawahira-san says without any firsthand knowledge, even if he's a Mist stronger than you, so you're the one I met, right?"

The smirk is still in place but if his Intuition is right (and it always is) then Daemon is really annoyed at the fact he guessed right.

"One lonely Mist can't shoulder all that old Earthling needs to. Everything is complicated so he needs the help of a strong, knowledgeable Mist that can assist him with the help he needs."

Tsuna frowns. That's too many 'needs' in one phrase. Something tells him the other's being blackmailed or something and he's trying to convince himself that's not the case. Again, he's smart enough to not voice his thoughts out loud. "… So he gave you your memories of the future?"

"He did."

That leaves a lot of questions in the air but he just knows the man won't be as forthcoming as he wishes him to be. Still, he can't help to look down at the warm bowl of ramen and murmur a forlorn, "… You were free."

Free from the obsession that kept him from rest, free from the madness that surrounded him because of his desperation to complete a promise, free from the bitterness of loneliness and vengeance.

A large hand tips his head to the side and he can see blue eyes on an expressionless familiar face.

"I'm free, Sawada Tsunayoshi. My actions are my own." Tsuna blinks, a bit out of it at hearing his real name for the first time in so long. Not that his stupor lasts long when the man adds in a deadpan tone, "You're harmonizing."

There's a ringing noise coming from his Intuition that's harder to ignore even with the way his heart is pounding. "W—What?"

Daemon hums as he slides his hand from his chin to his chest, barely above a fluttering touch. "Can't you feel it? The extra bonds?"

The ringing is louder, clearly trying to tell him something, but Tsuna doesn't understand what. A headache is forming and is not because of the Mist flames the other is slowly pouring inside him. He shakes his head once, twice, and closes his eyes, focuses on the flames that are not his own with the help of the ex-Vongola Guardian. It's hard with his Sky flames filling most of the space, like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Well, seven needles. Usually, he can't get anything but the distinct feeling of his friend's presence, but somehow the warm palm of Daemon's hand coated with Mist Flames against his chest makes it easier. Not pushing his Flames away but creating a bridge instead for him to reach that place inside him.

Even in the stasis-like state, they've been since Tsuna appeared in this time, he can't help but sigh at their closer-than-normal sensation, a small smile forming on his lips. It's been so long since he felt his friend's flames as well as he's doing now. He wants to enjoy it for a while longer but he knows it's not the time. Daemon is doing this for a reason, he knows that even if he's afraid of what he's going to find out.

He purses his lips and opens his eyes. Daemon's brows are slightly furrowed and his face lacks the usual mocking smirk. As soon as Tsuna notices this, like a mirage, it disappears, the laid-back expression is back, Mist Flames slowly retreating from him.

The ex-Mist Guardian raises an eyebrow as if to say 'Well?'. Tsuna ignores it and presses a hand where Daemon's larger one took place, trying to attempt to do what the other did.

"You won't succeed without a mastery on Mist flames." He leans back on his throne-like chair again. "I take it you didn't feel it then, Tsunayoshi?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he grits out, the ringing inside his head increasing. His skull feels too small for his brain and suddenly every muscle on his face makes it so painful to form an expression. It hurts so much and this time he doesn't hide the wince of pain it causes, more focused he is into not letting any whimper form past his lips.

"Perhaps is not about if you can feel it or not, and more if you want to." His tone lowers into something mocking and awful. "Is the little boy so afraid of the truth that he prefers to drown in ignorance? You've one of the greatest cheats and are not using it at its full potential. I wonder, why not?"

"Shut up," he snaps. I'm not afraid, he wants to yell, but… He can't. The reality is that he's so very much afraid.

"Will I be able to return with my friends?" he had asked in a small voice when Kawahira-san promised to answer him everything he wanted. He saw then, in the way Kawahira-san blinked as if just seeing him for the first time, that the man was just realizing how young he was and the weight he had placed on his shoulders.

"You will see them again," he had said, which wasn't really an answer, but his eyes told him that he would explain if Tsuna asked for it. Tsuna had swallowed then, ignoring the gaze and the way his Intuition rang, and nodded, not asking for more.

Will he ignore it now, too? When it possibly includes the fate of others? People he can call friends?

He's never denied being a coward as he's so afraid all the time. And he knows that if it's only him the one suffering he can deal with whatever problem and go blind and deaf to the path of damnation he knows it's the one he's walking on, no matter how much he tries to not pay attention. But is not him anymore, isn't it?

"Alone, a Sky can't survive for long. They tend to attract trouble and not care of their well-being, turning them reckless."

"I'm not like that."

"Are you sure, little Ozora?"

Grabbing his head between his hands, he looks down at the cooling ramen, a silent sob wracking his frame. Tears blur his vision but he clenches his eyes shut so they won't fall. His throat feels too dry but he clears it as he looks up, letting his determination guide his actions.

"You know why it hurts you so much, don't you? Your Intuition is screaming at you and you're not hearing. It'll only get worse, you know."

He knows. He knows, but he's still afraid of acknowledging it. He needs to hear it to not be able to ignore it anymore.

"What do you mean with me Harmonization? Speak clear. No riddles."

Daemon doesn't let his surprise show but Tsuna, even with a headache threatening to split his head in two, knows the man is experiencing it. He pulls out a familiar object from nowhere and Tsuna can see where this is going even without him receiving an answer.

"No. You won't take the easy route. Why don't you find the answer yourself instead, um?"

Tsuna wants to scream in frustration but doesn't. He extends his left palm up ignoring the way it trembles, catching the clear pacifier when the man lets it fall. Unlike the orbs he received from Mamoru days ago, the pacifier is bigger and hard like glass, with no imperfection on its surface. It doesn't have a pulse but there's something similar and hungry. He knows what to do without being told and before he can get second thoughts, he switches it with his other hand. Tsuna then takes off the bandages covering his palm, his small snake familiar sliding off of his wrist to rest next to the bowl.

Daemon's elbow is on the counter, holding the weight of his head with a fist as he peers with bored curiosity at his actions and the small boa's. When Tsuna's over and leaves the bandages on the counter, he doesn't waste a second to inspect them, completely ignoring the threateningly way Mamoru is lifting up.

"Interesting. I wish I could study it as it's certainly better quality than the usual Flame resistant cloth."

He receives a glare for his words. "Ask Kawahira-san then. I'm using one of his creations."

"Uhm. Perhaps I will. The seal woven won't be as easy to decipher without at least some direction." He looks up when Tsuna is about to press his palm to the pacifier. "Halt."

"Erm. What?"

"Before you do that, can I examine your palm?"

Tsuna blinks incredibly at him, eyes starting to gain a feverish gleam. Can't he see the strain in his expression? The way sweat is already beginning to form on his forehead?

"What?" he asks again, hoping it sounds as disbelieving as he intended, though considering his breathing is a little too shallow already, probably not. But damn, it's been really long without the bandages and Mamoru to help him control his flames. He's not used to this quantity anymore.

Taking his tone as permission, Daemon grabs his hand in a tight grip and holds it close for him to see the mark, scarred deep on his skin in the form of a circle. Like the first time it appeared, it looks raw as if blood's a second from pouring out. Not that it's happened before even with its gory aspect, probably it has to do with its color orange, instead of the usual red one would expect from such a wound.

Daemon hums as he turns around his palm to get a view of the back. "It doesn't look too special for it being what turns you into a walking pacifier."

"Yeah, well. You're not the one trying to harmonize part of the planet's energy."

"True," he says, finally letting his hand go. He makes a 'shoo' motion for him to continue what he's doing. Tsuna wants to roll his eyes but doesn't have the energy to do so.

With a breathy sigh, he presses the pacifier against the mark and can't help the relieving moan at the way he feels the Sky flames draining from him to the object. It merely feels too good to not feel like his skin is too small for his flames, barely holding out from pouring out from the weak stitches that keep it from escaping. He suddenly feels weak, but weirdly energetic. His Flames nothing but a drop of water in comparison with the ocean that it inhabited before.

He lazily opens his eyes, the now bright orange pacifier resting on his palm. It's trying to harmonize with him and curse him, but Kawahira-san taught him how to control it. He's not good at it so he will have to revert it back in a couple of minutes, but that's long enough for him to do what he needs to.

His Flames have increased in volume, but pushing them away is so easy now because they're his own. His friend's flames don't take more than a few seconds to locate, still cold and motionless, small too because he never got the chance to completely harmonize with them, but there. He wants to enjoy their clear presence more, but something stops him.

There, where he feels Gokudera-kun's flames are, he feels something weird tangled with them, slightly bigger, but clearly active and hot, unlike his friend's flames. It takes him a while to realize it is Fong's. His mind is blank as he pokes it and feels it purr in contentment. His face is probably set in an unreadable expression that's slowly filling with dread. Just out of masochistic curiosity he concentrates on onii-san's flames until he can feel something similar though to a lesser extent. This one pokes back with annoyance.

He stops looking internally and meets Daemon's amused eyes. There's something sadistic in them he doesn't like and wants to punch. That weird laugh is not helping either. He pushes the bowl of ramen that's not cold anymore.

"Hungry?" he asks with a way too-wide smile. "I cooked it myself."

Does that mean the one making his breakfast is Daemon?

"You suck," he breaths out, his concentration leaving him in his annoyance for a second and letting the curse take a hold of him.

"Fuck," is the last thing he says before something snaps inside of him and knocks him out. Though what he last thinks is, "At least it's Friday."

He will probably remember the resigned tone more than the actual words when he next wakes up. He always remembers the resignation best.

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