Chapter 23

(December 11, 1982 – Saturday)

Tsuna slowly wakes up, part of him not wanting to as he's comfortably warm despite feeling well-rested. A large body slithers alongside him, Tsuna's sleepy mind confirming it as Mamoru's. He nuzzles against the soft scaley skin of his familiar and the material underneath him once before slowly stretching, his mouth wide open in a soft yawn. His body feels sore but it's the good kind after working out like a normal person and not like Reborn's sadistic ways. It makes him want to spend a whole hour in bed just stretching. Wistful thinking, he knows, as his days are always busy and he can't afford it. So with the last sigh, he slowly blinks his eyes open.

He stops mid-stretch and experimentally clenches his fists. His tiny fists, which seem to be attached to pudgy, short arms. Mamoru, at his side, lowers her head until is in front of his faze. She looks vaguely apologetic, something he vaguely registers as he's still watching his limbs with a blank expression, one of them slowly approaching to his chest where he's not surprised to find the Sky pacifier on top.

He groans and flops back onto his side.

"You aren't going to spend all the day like that, are you?"

Peeking over his shoulder, which is awkward as his neck only seems able to do it halfway, he sees Daemon in that throne-like chair, reading a cooking magazine that looks too modern for the actual year. He's not looking at him but Tsuna doesn't care much about it when he notices the familiar room he's in. The ugly paintings he never takes off are hanging on their rightful spots, the furniture is in place, and he can now recognize the couch he's been sleeping on. Everything is the same except for the front of a familiar ramen shop where his kitchen is supposed to be, lighting up the place with a light that's quite nostalgic because it's white instead of the usual yellowish that's the norm in this time's lamps.

The curtains are drawn close, not letting him get a good guess of the time. Not that he needs it to know it's really late with how dark it is.

"How long was I out?" he asks softly, not wanting to hear his new high-pitched voice but needing the answer.

A turn of a page. "About five hours."

Tsuna sighs, his hands going to cradle the pacifier hanging around his neck. He should be working in pulling out so he can return quickly to his normal age, which will take a couple of hours and leave him with enough pain afterward for him to not be able to move, a thing that will ruin his plans of finding and buying a new bed. Hopefully, he'll be well enough to make it to the bar to go to the club with Chiara and Zaid as he promised.

In short, he really should be taking the pacifier off and get rid of the curse. The quicker the better.

"You'll stay with it for a while longer, won't you?"

Looking up from the brilliant orange orb, Tsuna locks gazes with Daemon. The magazine is closed on one knee and he's now regally sprawled on that throne, still wearing the green apron. He doesn't seem curious or confused at his apparent reluctance, as most would be—should be. He almost looks understanding, or at least there's certain knowing in his eyes as he sees him lying on the couch, Mamoru protectively surrounding him.

"How do you feel?" he asks softly after seconds pass with their weird staring going on, in a tone Tsuna's never thought would hear from a person like him. For some reason, it makes it harder to breathe and his eyes start to water. And perhaps is the tone, or the new body not as emotionally capable as his own, or the fact that for all he's always been surrounded here with nice people and friends, he doesn't really have anyone to share his secrets and tell his problems to. He realizes with a start that even if he's not alone, he still feels lonely without anyone to freely talk, without anyone to call him for his real name.

"Can you—Can you say my name again?" he asks as evenly as he can, drying the couple of tears that manage to escape. "Please."

"You're Sawada Tsunayoshi, son of Nana and Iemitsu, a Sky. You were born on October fourteen in Naminori." Daemon kneels in front of him but Tsuna still has to look up to meet his gaze. There's a handkerchief he pulls out from thin air and uses to clean his cheeks. "You're Sawada Tsunayoshi, a Vongola."

It's strangely comforting to hear these little facts about him and even with them it still takes him a long minute to recover from that almost breakdown. He's a bit unsure where it comes from as he thought he already made peace with his circumstances, but it seems that's another thing he's been lying to himself.

Daemon is still kneeling in front of him, an acceptable distance away and the handkerchief nowhere to be seen, his face is set in a carefully crafted expression that reveals nothing as he watches him. His Intuition is weaker than what he's grown used to, more like a sixth sense than the know-it-all alien it usually is, but he gets enough to get a picture of what's going on.

"Kawahira-san doesn't want to see me, right?"

"He is busy."

"He could have sent an illusion," he says, his grip on the pacifier tightening.

Daemon lets out a regal snort and leans in, enclosing most of the distance separating them, an amused smirk on his lips. "You both are playing some weird poker at the moment. It's obvious he wouldn't confront you when you've got that cheat in your head."

"This is not a game," he grits out, the young muscles on his face feeling weird at being molded in such a harsh expression. "There are lives counting on this, futures."

"More than you think, I bet. It's a part of the tri-ni-sette we're talking about. Not that you would care. If you could keep your family safe, you wouldn't care if the world burns, right?"

"Wha—I would!"

"Would you? I wonder." He hums as he stands up, not going back to his seat but choosing to sit in front of him with his legs crossed, on the air, as if gravity is just another word. "In my opinion, Kawahira won't appear until he really needs to. He likes to make himself appear like the mastermind behind all of this but I bet that the truth behind his absence is more because you will be able to see all his cards and he knows you don't want to."

There's a soft hum inside his head, affirming or denying, he's not entirely sure. "What are you talking about?"

Daemon grins too wide to not be terrifying. "You want to fold so badly because some part of you already knows what's going to happen, but you know you can't. You prefer to play it blind and will do it until you can't anymore."

"Stop with the poker references!" he shouts, his voice too sweet-sounding for the emotions he feels. A headache is starting to form between his brows once again, softer than the ones he's gotten without the pacifier but still too much for his small body to be capable of ignoring.

A nudge of his Intuition makes him try to sit up when Daemon leans in but his body is too alien at the moment to answer him as he wants.

"You can reach the sky while kneeling but you keep looking at the ground—and that? That pisses me off." He grabs a fistful of his hair, seemingly not caring of the boa constrictor suddenly on him, tightening her hold around the Mist's arm and neck as he yanks Tsuna's face slightly forwards, almost lifting his whole body up. "Where's the kid that beat me? Where's the one who traveled to the past determined to accomplish the goal set on his mind? I've only seen a coward hiding behind all these aliases, all of them a shadow of the boy that managed to gain my respect."

Tsuna takes a shaky breath and opens his mouth with the intention to speak but Daemon tightens the grip on his hair. "I've kept a close watch on you. You know the real identity of the people flocking around you but keep denying it. It's disgusting. It makes me wonder if the reason you hold tightly that cursed thing around your neck is not only for the break it gives you from its overwhelming power and is it instead because it makes it easier to ignore everything your Hyper Intuition points at you. Or maybe is it—"

Tsuna can't take it anymore. With Sky flames governing his thoughts and actions, he punches the joint of the arm holding him in place that Mamoru is not covering. There's an ugly crack echoing around the room, but Tsuna doesn't stop, using his newfound control on his flames to fly and kick Daemon on the stomach, the sudden action too surprising for the Mist to evade. It's not strong to harm but it is to make him fall back on his back.

"You don't think I know?!" he shouts, fists still aflame. "I—I didn't want to and I did try to ignore the signs. I'm a coward, I admit it. Is that what you wanted to hear? I do know who they are and I know what my Intuition wants me to do, but I can't! I can't! It would mean they will suffer discordance when I leave or—or that I won't be able to…"

He trails off, his throat too dry for him to continue. The last option is too painful for him to speak aloud and make it real. He doesn't want to hear what his Intuition thinks about it as it does with the words that just left him. Knowing subconsciously is one thing, he thinks as the faint shock makes his body tremble when he realizes that, yes, he does know. He knows Renato is Reborn, his sadistic tutor; Fong is I-pin's master, the ever-calm baby; and Mona is Viper, Mamon, Varia's Mist. He's known ever since Renato pointed out how strong flame users can see through the illusions of people with lesser power, unknowingly suggesting Kawahira-san wasn't the most powerful flame user alive. He snorted as the statement was too laughable and told him how there must be another reason as his Intuition said she was important.

Tsuna realized then that the way his Intuition labeled the Mist is the same he labels Fong and Renato as Important.

He told Mamoru to contact Kawahira-san, not to confirm his theory but hoping he'd deny it.

Maybe Daemon's right and that's why Kawahira-san didn't appear. Can he see through all he's planning and still follow through with it?

It's a stupid question when he already knows the answer.

He looks up at Daemon who is floating in front of him as if he's not been kicked a minute ago, leaning his weight on both elbows and ignoring Mamoru's tight hold even when he's sure he broke at least his wrist. His expression is a bored, but shrew one, with a hint of curiosity that's not remotely innocent.

Tsuna kind of feels like a bug under a microscope.

"I don't think I'll be able to follow whatever he's planning for me if I knew of it," he says softly, but with an edge that's able to cut. "Maybe that's coward of me but I've never been good at following plans. Just know, and tell Kawahira-san this, it doesn't matter if I complain to the skies or curse his name, I'll continue walking on this path and go forwards with everything he throws me because I was the one who accepted. I'll try my best because it was my decision to do this. I just—I don't want to know."

"You don't want to know if you'll be able to return to your time?"

Tsuna inhales shakily. "No, I don't. I just want to concentrate on the present. It's easier that way."

"So you'll continue letting Kawahira deal the cards? Very human of you."

"I'm human."

"Ignorance is bliss and all that?" With a hum, Daemon extends his hand. "If that's your choice then give me the pacifier, you know what long exposure will do to you."

Tsuna looks down at the orange orb hanging in front of his chest, warm and alive between his small hands. He glances at the now shallow mark on his right palm and remembers Kawahira-san telling him about the tri-ni-sette and their gifts.

"A fixed point in time," he repeats the Arcobaleno's reason to exist in a murmur, the gift that makes him able to stay in the past without problems.

"Yes, that's right. Though if you hadn't been the holder of the Vongola ring, you wouldn't have managed to make that trip."

"Because the Vongola rings are connected to the past, I know."

With a sigh, he concentrates on taking the flames the pacifier managed to take from him. Luckily it's not much and because of that, it's quicker. The problem comes when he has to take the connection the pacifier has to the tri-ni-sette and use the mark on his palm as a replacement. Not because it's harder. On the contrary, it's really easy to do it. The problem comes when trying to maintain it on just his palm while foreign raw flames just want to flood him with its power. If he lets it happen, he'll be in a catatonic state for a couple of days, so he has to be really careful with this. The last time he accidentally cursed himself, it took a week for him to get it right and those were painful days he doesn't want to experience again.

Fortunately, now it takes him four hours for all those dense flames to flow through his body without incident. He's still drenched in sweat and his breathing sounds as if he's just been through special training of Reborn's though. He can barely lift his head from where it touches the floor. Not that he wants to as it's nice and cool against his sweaty skin, even as wet as it is thanks to it.

He feels someone grabbing his slightly larger right hand but doesn't bother to check when he's sure it's Daemon the one bandaging him. He thinks he manages to gurgle a 'thank you' but it probably is just wishful thinking.

Oh, well, he'll say it to him the next time he sees him. Making a mental note to not forget to ask about the orbs Mamoru gave and their purpose, Tsuna decides that a nap comes first as he doesn't want to stay awake when the pain of his body growing sets it. His bones and muscles will be sore enough afterward for him to deal with.

Tsuna hopes he'll be well enough to move by the time he has to go to the bar even though he now really doesn't want to go. He knows if he goes to explain how tired (And in pain) he is, they'll understand but just picturing the hint of disappointment in their faces makes him unable to even start pronouncing the 'I can't go' inside his mind.

He really is a pushover.