Chapter Text
XI.
Namimori is peaceful.
Namimori is bright.
But still, as a land rich in history, many are the times where Tsuna lays eyes on his town and sees the shadows of what it had once been - and still is today.
For example: Tsuna can count the number of times old man Yamazaki from the tea shop down by the shopping district snorted a gruff “I told you so” to many a customer who brewed his precious tea leaves the wrong way. That is an unchanging relic through the times, a habit, passed down by Yamazaki’s father to him and even then, his father to him.
In another instance, even though Kanzaki Michiko has aged gracefully, growing laughter lines and gentle crinkles on her radiant eyes, Tsuna can still recall from the memories of his previous, previous incarnation – Mamoru Kotaro – how she had been the prettiest girl in town back in the day. Smooth silky hair spun from fine threads and all.
Or take another case in point: Even though it’s been centuries since one white-haired man going by the name of Kawahira slipped into his land and enthralled him with a long, amusing game of hide-and-seek, Tsuna can still recall vividly every path and turn and corner that must be taken in a map chucked full of possible hiding spots.
“Kawahira-san!” Tsuna cries with hands clapping in delight as he stumbles at the front door.
Kawahira wears an exasperated smile, melancholic at its edges.
“I see you’ve found me again.” He sighs.
Tsuna doesn’t point out how they’ve played this game over and over again.
Instead, he beams and he steps forward to receive his hug.
.
XII.
“Wrong room.” Chimes the white haired entity, his look of shock melting into a Cheshire grin, steam wafting up from the tea nested in his grip.
“Oops. Sorry!” Takahashi Yasuhiro slams the sliding door shut.
A beat passes before he realizes it’s most definitely him he’s been sensing on his land.
“Who are you—”
The words hadn’t even fully left his lips before Takahashi Yasuhiro is narrowing his eyes at the hollowed out room. It’s abandoned. Forlorn. The exact opposite of the homey atmosphere it had been not even a full minute ago.
“Damn it!” Takahashi races down the lines of shophouses, dodging the crowd to chase after the flickering presence on the edges of his mind. As if taunting him, the man’s flames flicker and die out – mere embers that would be harrowing, if they didn’t return with startling force, licking and mocking and laughing.
At him.
Dark eyes shine with mirth. The lopsided spreading smirk on his face betray his emotions.
Sword thumping against his thighs, the samurai law enforcer tears down the street. He will definitely catch that felon and make him one of his.
.
XIII.
It’s not uncommon for the incarnations of Namimori to seek out the protectors of his hometown to show his appreciation.
What’s decidedly uncommon is the bloodlust of the protector this time round.
“Erm. Uhm.”
Gold-flecked browns flicker down momentarily to the pile of bodies pinned by the nine-year old’s feet. They’re by no means bad boys, Tsuna knows. Just a bit misguided (Hiroshi thought his mother hated him well after her death), and just a bit naughty in the way they derailed lives for everyone else (Okazaki has always been a prankster). But the fault of a child’s upbringing can’t lie with anyone but their parents! Not that any of his Hibari’s had ever listened to reasonings like that.
.
(“It’s their fault for being weak, isn’t it?” Hibari Kanae tells the aged, weary Kasa Akifumi at age seven, chilling on the top of his roof not unlike a feline. The tiny midget of a girl slips off the haggard straw to steal the daifuku off Akifumi’s plate.
“This world’s the survival of the fittest, you know?” She licks her thumb.)
.
(“Cut the meaningless lecture. You’re far too soft.” Hibari Tsubasa kicks Takahashi Yasuhiro on the ass. The move is enough to destabilize and make him hop on one sandal-clad feet to regain his balance.
Now, that’s an awfully mean thing to do when their new allies are still around, isn’t it? Alaude doesn’t stiffen, but instead, watches them in obvious intrigue. Huh. Not a bad reaction at all, coming from a renown war god- and Yasuhiro yelps when another merciless kick sends him tumbling face-first into the ground. Right before the feet of the bemused golden-haired man he’d been negotiating with moments before, too. God fucking Hibari's.
“Whatever happened to respecting your elders?” Yasuhiro grumbles through a mouthful of sand. Tsubasa grinds his feet into his arse.
“Let’s get home so I can trounce your ass, Old Man.” Yasuhiro hisses when his feet are picked up by Tsubasa and oh Hello! Face meets floor again! The little arrogant minx sends a dismissive look down the clams’ way. “You’ve made a rather troublesome person your ally this time.")
.
(“My kid was born just the other day.”
“I know. I felt it.” Maehara Takuya stifles a mocking laugh with his hand. “In fact, I was watching when it happened! Eishi-kun, your crying face when you embraced the boy was very heart-warming! That one moment when that tear slid out of your eyes and landed upon the boy’s cheek… My~ That totally brought a squeeze to my heart—”
A glimmer of blue-grey is all he receives as a warning before a tonfa is lowered inches away from his kimono-clad shoulder. Dark locks flutter in the slight breeze brought by the movement. Onyx eyes blink down at the weapon, unfazed.
“What is this?” Takuya cocks his head curiously.
“…You’re weak, Namimori. Incredibly so.” Hibari Eishi retracts his weapon. “This is the proof of that.”
“A sudden insult out of nowhere?” Takuya chuckles. He tucks his arms within the sleeves of his kimono, blinking up beseechingly from under long lashes at the single ‘customer’ he’d closed the shop for. “What’s wrong? Is the tea not to your liking?”
“You’re weak, Namimori. And there’s no one who’s more aware of that than you.”
Eishi lays out the facts with as much emotion as he’s shown through the years. That is, to say, little to none. Takuya can quietly count the number of things that has managed to crack Eishi’s stoic demeanour on one hand and still have fingers left over. He wonders what point the other is trying to make.
(Is it finally time for the Hibari’s to come to the realization that Namimori has never given enough to them to deserve their protection? Well… It’s about time too, in Takuya’s humble opinion. Stupidity can’t be an inheritance in any bloodline for that long.)
“That’s why,” Eishi marches forward. Greyish blue eyes upfront and always straight to the point. He retracts his weapon. “I’ll raise my son to be the best protector you’ve ever seen, Namimori.”
His breath’s stolen. The air grows thin as the memories of how to breathe momentarily slip his grip. Takuya peers at the Hibari with widened onyx, words refusing to come to him. It seems for a moment that Hibari Kanae, Hibari Tsubasa… the countless numbers of Hibari’s who’d stayed with him through the years were all gazing through the grey-blues of Hibari Eishi. Even though that same colour has changed repeatedly through the gradual intermixing of bloodlines. Blending and repeating, blending and returning.
Hibari Eishi picks up his teacup. He takes a sip and pops a daifuku in.
“This tea’s not bad.” Which means good, in the Hibari’s demented tongue. “It’s worth slaughtering your enemies over, Namimori.”
“Is that so?” Takuya had chuckled wryly. Hibari’s are just that stupid, it seems. “I’m counting on you to protect Namimori for me then, Eishi-kun.”)
.
Something, Tsuna decides gravely, must have been miscommunicated in that interaction between his predecessor and the Hibari matriarch. Because what he’s seeing now is a demon king of epic proportions, radiating the darkest, thickest miasma of killing intent he has ever felt all his life as Namimori.
Seven-year-old Tsuna gulps, fearing for the lives of his poor boys down below Hibari Kyoya’s feet. (Even if they had indeed bullied him.)
“E-Erm.” The demon lord turns to look at him. Grey eyes narrow into slits. “I-It’s not good to be fighting others when they’re down! Doing that is called bullying!” He somehow manages to stand up for his citizens.
The grey eyes narrow further.
“Hiihh!” Tsuna yelps as he slowly inches back. This has got to be the most dangerous Hibari he’s ever seen!
“They defied the school rules, so they deserve to be beaten up.” Hibari Kyoya flicks blood off his tonfa. A speck of it lands on Tsuna’s cheek.
He eyes the pile of boys with great pity and a quiet looming apology. An idea comes to him then. Maybe if Tsuna can get the demon spawn off of them, the teachers could do something about them…? But Tsuna really doesn’t want to get killed!
“B-But…” Tsuna squeezes his eyes timidly. He twiddles his fingers. “Isn’t killing them… also breaking the school rules?”
Tsuna dares himself to peek up.
Grey orbs don’t narrow this time. Instead, they widen at his daringness, and Tsuna’s convinced he has just seen the deepest darkest edges of hell even though none of his predecessors have ever been there.
“…Herbivore.”
Cries of a flock of crows punctuate the still air that had fallen over the school. In response to his feelings, the world within Namimori shifts, animals bristling and birds tearing off the trees at the disaster of catastrophic proportions sweeping over the city. Tsuna shudders, the same way Namimori quakes just marginally on the seismic scale in that instance. Take a picture, he tells the long departed Maehara Takuya in his mind. It’s all his fault that he’s in this situation. How could that stoic robot raise such a demon king?
In the next instance, Tsuna turns on his feet and begins his dash.
It’s at that same timing that Kyoya pushes himself off the pile of bodies.
Tsuna squeezes brown eyes shut as he pumps all his energy into his legs.
Kyoya lands on his feet and begins his hunt.
A bunch of construction workers are moving across the street.
Tsuna runs past them with eyes squeezed closed.
One worker’s called out by his colleague. He turns around, the heavy steel beam on his shoulder swaying outwards.
Grey eyes widen but Kyoya doesn’t stop himself in time.
There’s a resounding thwack that sends vibration down the metal and lingers with a metallic strum for the next couple of seconds.
Tsuna’s steps falter. He slows to a jog and looks over his shoulder.
Kyoya’s down for the count.
“Uwah!? What did I do?!” The construction worker spins again. Tsuna ducks the attack. The man’s panicking as he looks down at the black haired kid with a bloody nose. “This is… Isn’t this the Hibari’s son?! This is bad… I’m definitely going to die!” The worker exclaims, ashen white.
Tsuna stares with a slackened jaw for a moment.
He gathers himself a moment later to trod forward and claim Hibari Kyoya as his “friend”. (The construction worker eyes him dubiously, but tearfully.)
Sometimes, the Namimori effect scares even himself.
.
XIV.
“You’re awake.” His father steps into the room, a damp cloth and basin of water in his grip. Blue-grey eyes appraise his face. Father inclines his head. “That was stupid of you.”
“Kh…” That stings his pride, as much as he hates to admit it.
Kyoya pulls himself out of the bed, lips downwards twitching in deep scowl at the throb in his face. Crusted blood blocks his scent of everything when he tries sniffling.
“Where is the herbivore?” He’s the only explanation Kyoya has for returning home.
The smack from his father over the head comes without warning, but at the same time, it’s the usual. Father maintains his usual stoic look as Kyoya hisses and reaches up to cradle the injury.
“He’s gone back. And don’t call him that.”
Kyoya pauses. Even though his father had always ignored his usage of the “herbivore-carnivore” system his Mother taught him, he’d never verbally instructed Kyoya to refrain from labeling anyone like that. Grey eyes peer out at his father suspiciously, all attempts at reading Hibari Eishi’s expressions as usual flying over his head without an ounce of success.
“…In that case… Carnivore?” Kyoya tests wryly. It just doesn’t settle well with him to have that brown fluffy thing be on equal grounds with him.
Father tilts his head sideways in thought.
“Try again.” He instructs.
Kyoya furrows his brows, resisting the urge to tut. It still comes anyways, and his father smacks him over the head once more. (Kyoya’s used to it. His mother could do way worse with her senbon if she’s not overseas.) Under the mess of dark ravens shielding his eyes away, the tiny mind of a combat genius races to connect the dots.
If that boy’s not an herbivore or a carnivore, then he must be a strain between those two.
“…An omnivore.” Kyoya concludes.
“That’s right.” Father rises to his feet.
That doesn’t make sense in the slightest to Kyoya.
“He’s weak.” Kyoya points out.
“He went against you and lived to tell the tale.” Father replies factually.
“That herbivore… he was getting bullied by the other herbivores.” Kyoya argues.
“But he didn’t receive any injury.” Father points out.
Kyoya freezes, eyes widening. The brown fluff being bullied was a thing that happened out of his sight. Yet... How does Father know about that?
His father is peering down at him with reminiscing blue-grey eyes when Kyoya lifts his head by a fraction. Just a little, the edges of his lips are lifted in the faint smile he’s only ever seen when Father is welcoming Mother back from her trips (and according to Mother, when Kyoya isn’t looking at his father intently). Blue-grey eyes hone back on him in focus. Father reaches out and brusquely ruffles his hair.
“Look. And think before you leap, Kyoya.” He murmurs. Kyoya’s eyes are wide, head remaining where it was pushed to peer at the mess of sheets laid over him. “An unthinking Hibari makes nothing but a foolish combatant. What are you protecting with your life?”
Father departs with those words, leaving Kyoya to lick his own wounds.
Namimori is what he’s protecting, Kyoya answers the question, ripping off the bandaid from his face.
His heart still races with adrenaline when he remembers those few days he’d spent watching those herbivores chase down the brown fluff. That brown fluff had somehow managed to evade them every time without a single scratch, each time with the help of uncanny timing and odd coincidences, or merely by ducking into hidden crook and crannies of the town. This time was just the same.
Namimori, Kyoya concludes solemnly, looking at his own reflection in the mirror, might be trying to protect that brown fluff.
.
XV.
Tsuna wonders what he has done wrong. He hasn’t broken any rules, right?
“Sawada Tsunayoshi.” Hibari Kyoya appears around the corner of his street one day.
“Hiihh-!” Tsuna cries out and races away from him.
“Omnivore.” Hibari Kyoya leaps after him with tonfas flying the next.
“Hyah!” Tsuna ducks. A trash bag comes flying out of a passing truck in that moment, hitting the catapulting raven and shooting him down to the ground. “Why—”
“Today, I’m not letting you go.” Hibari Kyoya breathes wrath as he corners Tsuna at a dead end.
“-are you—” Tsuna crawls his way through a coincidental hole in the fence and races out in time to catch a police officer on patrol.
“Fight me!” Hibari Kyoya hisses, hauling Tsuna into an empty classroom during assembly.
“—after me?!” Tsuna leaps out of the window and gets cushioned by the trees. He manages to return back to assembly on time, if only a bit dishevelled and shuddering cold under the dark daggers burnt into him from the prefects’ corner.
Maehara Takuya, he decides glumly, must be laughing at them somewhere from the heaven. It certainly doesn’t help that Hibari Eishi had given him that blank nod that doesn’t give away a bit on whether he truly got it or not. Tsuna seriously won’t be able to tolerate it if any future Hibari babies are all crazed versions of Hibari Kyoya! Namimori will tumble and fall on its knees!
He’s sitting on the rooftop, sipping on strawberry milk and hoping no delinquent will find their way to him one day when the silhouette of Hibari Kyoya looms over his back.
Tsuna feels the prickle of fear stinging his skin, even if he knows no citizen of Namimori can truly do harm upon him. He turns to peer over his shoulder meekly, and the thunderous grey eyes boring down at him judgingly with what could possibly be the most disgruntled, composed scowl makes him shriek with alarm. Tsuna hurriedly scrambles back across the roof, flailing arms wrapping around himself.
“H-H-H-H-Hibari-san! What can I do for you-?!” He cries.
The judgmental look in those grey eyes haven’t lightened in the slightest.
Kyoya stalks forward to him.
“You…are… Namimori.”
Eh.
Brown eyes bulge and he slips over thin air.
EH?!
The steps come to a stop, the terrifying nine-year-old looming over him.
“You are Namimori. The town I’m supposed to protect. And you’re pathetic.”
Tsuna shivers uncontrollably as he hugs himself. E-Eh…? Since when did everything become so cold around him?
“C-Calm down, Hibari-san! I-I know I’m weak and all, but… I’ve been receiving training from Italy for a while now on how to control my flames! …kay?” Is that good enough for him?
“Stand up.” Kyoya orders.
“Eh?!”
“You’re going to learn to fight.” Tonfas slide out of Kyoya’s jacket. A bloodthirsty curl of his lips makes Tsuna gulp at the impending threat to his life. “As the personification of my town, it won’t do for you to be weak. I’m having you train to protect yourself, Sawada Tsunayoshi.” He hisses.
Beads of sweat explode all around Tsuna’s head. He can only swallow heavily with a meek, wobbly smile on his lips as the shadows close in around him.
Hibari Kyoya takes a step forward.
Tsuna shrieks as Kyoya leaps at him.
(That’s how he spends most of his following days, running away from a bloodthirsty protector.)