Chapter Text
With how often Tsuna gets hit by the Ten Year Bazooka, the novelty of waking up in a different timeline has long worn off. Thankfully, he’s not in a coffin this time, seated instead on a ridiculously comfy chair, but maybe he’s losing his marbles or something, because the perspective of things seems a little different than usual.
It might have been the hit on his head that happened moments before the teleportation, because Tsuna stumbles immediately upon standing up. He feels taller, the centre of gravity is different–he’s different. Looking down at his hands, a palm marked by callouses stare back at him: longer, thinner fingers, and the Vongola ring.
Tsuna doesn’t wear the ring on his finger, he keeps it chained on a necklace around his neck. Touching his neck, it is startlingly bare and now that he is truly looking, Tsuna notices the difference. A trimmed suit, white collars, wider shoulders. His hair is longer, running past his shoulders, tied neatly into a braid.
The place he’s in is some kind of office, his future self’s one, he supposes, but most importantly: the reflection in the window reveals all that he needs to know.
First, he’s in the future.
Second, he’s in his future self’s body.
Tsuna pauses to digest that information, sitting back down on the chair. He has an inkling that this particular time travel is out of the ordinary, an outlier of the usual unordinary, but one can always hope. A glance at the fancy watch on his wrist, and to the antique grandfather clock on the wall, tells him that barely a minute has passed since he’s arrived, and so he waits.
It’s 3.55pm.
In the meantime, Tsuna surveys the room he’s in; it’s hardly an invasion of privacy if it’s his– collective noun–office, right? The place is well-kept, personal touches here and there, and lived-in, too. The folded blanket by the sofa is a clear sign of many late nights spent in the office, fueled by afternoon power naps in between, and Tsuna can easily profile the workaholic attitude of this Vongola Decimo. It's what he would do too, if he had the lives of others hanging on his shoulders. Expectedly, there is a mounting stack of papers on one side of the desk, a single fountain pen beside it, and a post-it note with a hastily scribbled message: Get reports from Bonnie!!
Whoever Bonnie is, it must be one of his future self’s close allies, or a member of his dysfunctional mafia family.
There is a framed photo of the family in the corner of his table. It looks chaotic, to say the least, but it does relieve his worries. His family looks happy, every single one of them. Unknowingly smiling to himself, Tsuna admires the photo. Ryohei has a baby on his shoulders; Hayato looks so fondly resigned at Takeshi's arm wrapped around his shoulder but the grin is unmistakable. There are a few unfamiliar faces, his future self's close friends, perhaps, but given that this is a family photo, the significance of their presence is telling and Tsuna makes a mental note to remember their faces.
The Arcobaleno are also present, in their full, regal adult bodies and Tsuna's smile turns wider. It does allay his doubts about the breaking of the Curse, no matter that Verde and Shamal have both pitched in to confirm that the now-babies-slash-teens will eventually grow back into their original bodies. Slowly, but surely.
His future self is seated in the middle of the photo, legs crossed, looking every bit the head of the strongest mafia family there is. Reborn is standing by his side–putting a stop to the irrational fear that the man is going to leave–smirking so handsomely, causing Tsuna's little heart to flip somersaults. If he appreciates the sight for a good few seconds, no one but him will know.
The chime of the clock stirs Tsuna back to the present, reminding him of the time.
It's 4.00pm. There is no pink smoke, no weird space-time warp, and Tsuna is still stuck in the same place, in the future timeline.
Naturally, things like these only happen to him. Tsuna leans back in the comfy office chair, and stares blankly at the minute hand of the clock. Maybe if it's a fluke?
He fidgets with the Vongola ring. Beside it, there is another band encased with a small yellow jewel, likely Sun flames infused, for emergencies, he supposes. Which is actually really smart, isn't it?
4.01pm. All Tsuna can do is sigh in resignation.
The door opens just then, in mocking coincidence.
Like a deer in the headlights, Tsuna stares at Reborn. Adult Reborn. Who stares back. Tsuna blinks, tensing, and the air shifts immediately.
Reborn whips his gun out, causing Tsuna to panic. He shouts, waving his arms in a placating gesture, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot, it's me!"
Lighting the Vongola ring up, Tsuna looks pointedly at the golden Sky flames on his finger, then back at Reborn–who merely arches a brow, unimpressed.
"Say something only you and I will know," he demands, voice significantly lower in tone, huskier, and all the more suave.
Tsuna mentally kicks himself for that thought, and racks his brain. The gun pointed at him has not moved an inch. Carefully, Tsuna answers, "You, you hate it when Mama treats you like a kid but keeps quiet out of politeness."
The stillness of the room is deafening, and Tsuna blabbers on, "You always act angry when the other Arcobalenos are in town but you're actually happy about their presence, I think? You get jealous when Leon's attention is on me or Natsu and, and–"
The sound of a step startles Tsuna to silence and he squeezes his eyes shut. Oh god, he is going to die. The step continues, approaching nearer and nearer, and Tsuna can almost hear the ominous background music playing in his head. He holds his breath in an attempt to look smaller.
(Incorrect) animal kingdom knowledge: when the predator has its eyes on you, play dead?
The warmth of the man permeates, his breath brushing by Tsuna's ears. Taking a peek with his eye, Tsuna is faced with the handle of Reborn's gun.
"The safety wasn't even off, dame-Tsuna."
How was he supposed to know that? Tsuna wants to argue but thinks better of it, keeping his thoughts to himself. The light from the windows shines upon them, causing the rings on Reborn's hand to glimmer. There’s one on his middle finger, an S-grade sun ring, and another inconspicuous one that sits innocently on the fourth.
Tsuna widens his eyes in surprise. He asks, distracted and incredulous, "You're married?" Who in their right mind will?
Unfortunately, Reborn is a mind-reader–or so he says–and an expert at reading people's body language because he says, flatly, "I heard that, you damn brat."
Whatever Tsuna is about to say gets interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a slightly muffled but polite: "May I come in? It's Bon."
Reborn tucks away his gun, calls out an affirmative, and the man who enters is unfamiliar. It takes Tsuna a moment to recognize him to be one of the faces in the family photo. Bon sets a thick envelope down on the table, glances at their close proximity, and hurries out of the room with a "Well, see you at dinner then."
Tsuna nods in acknowledgement–which is normal behaviour, he would assume–before looking at Reborn for guidance on the generality of things. He has yet to explain what happened, but Reborn can be terrifyingly smart when he wants to, and has likely understood the gist of Tsuna's situation.
"That's your new CEDEF head," Reborn explains. Leon, perched atop his fedora, blinks in greeting. "You forced Iemitsu to take an early retirement so he could spend time with your mother, they're both back in Japan."
"Oh." Tsuna swallows, hesitant to ask his next question but the need for reassurance is prominently strong. "Is everyone…" alive, he wants to say, but the word dries at the tip of his tongue. Reborn understands him though, as he always does.
"Everyone is fine, Tsuna. Come on, let's get you checked first."
Reborn turns to leave, holding the door open, and Tsuna quickly walks over. He trips, of course he does, because his luck is a joke. "Don't laugh," Tsuna mutters.
Reborn laughs anyway.
Following behind the hitman's footsteps gives Tsuna the opportunity to take stock of the place they're in, while keeping a peripheral eye on Reborn's wide back. Very firm back, his traitorous brain adds. Reborn is a walking threat to his health–figuratively and literally, because his tutor is capable of killing a man six ways to Sunday–and ultimately, entirely too pleasing on the eyes.
Tsuna has never had any experience in the dating field, not seeing much appeal in the general audience, although his gaze has lingered a little longer than usual in the men's dressing room. Objectively speaking, a muscular body is attractive; in that same line of thought, objectively, school idol Kyoko is very pretty.
His crush, if you can even call it one, is much akin to a fan's infatuation with their idol. Unrealistic, in the way one would love to date but knows it wouldn't work out in the long run.
Confusion over his sexuality aside, Tsuna doesn't have time for all that. Yes, he's at the peak of his youth; yes, he's not looking for a relationship. There's a growing number of reasons for that: working as Decimo-to-be, fighting a war and the many other battles scattered in between, so on and so forth.
The newest reason, and likely the bulk of it, as he's starting to realise, is that he is simply barking up the wrong tree.
Perhaps. Possibly.
How else is he supposed to explain the way his heart nearly stopped, the way his mouth dries up, and the incessantly strong urge to stare at the distinct lines of muscles barely covered by the tight-fitting shirt Reborn has on? Looking at a printed photo of adult Reborn is one thing, seeing the man in person is another. Tsuna has to thank whatever god there is for making Reborn walk in front of him, because the blush on his face will give away the improper thoughts he's having at once.
There is also the convoluted way his gut drops at the knowledge of his tutor being married, and Tsuna does not want to unpack that at all, resolutely deciding to chuck aside his myriad of emotions on anything and everything related to it.
The hallways have a number of framed art, an extensively large and detailed map of Italy, followed by numerous doors, each with their different purpose. There is a constant slew of activity and noise as Tsuna walks past another corridor that leads to somewhere–and is that Hibird?
A light clasp on his hand has Tsuna returning his attention to Reborn, who says, "It's going to be real funny if you get lost in your own home."
Tsuna can't find fault with that, and lets himself be the sheep herded by the shepherd, of sorts. Staring at their linked hands will not give him any more revelations, so Tsuna fiercely ignores the faint hum of his intuition and walks along.
No one stares twice at them, which is even weirder but also understandable, because the list of weird things happening at or related to the Vongola's are long and plentiful. His presence currently is one of them.
He greets Shamal at the infirmary, who looks surprisingly the same, but with a few more grey hairs, and changes into the hospital gown as requested. There is a number of advanced medical equipment that Tsuna knows the science geeks back home would love to get their hands on–and can't quite help the small wave of homesickness that rises in him.
Apart from the quiet whirr of the machine and some mechanical clinking, there is really nothing much to do except for staring at the white panel of the device he's in. The snippets of a conversation happening outside the door does comfort him some bit, knowing that he has not been left on his own, and Tsuna tries to take a snooze while listening to it.
"–Didn't realise it?"
A shuffle of something, and Reborn's amused voice, "No."
"You're not planning to…?"
"No, shut the fuck up, Shamal."
"Oh, Romeo, the lo–" a wrangled yelp, followed by the sounds of weak punches.
Tsuna does fall asleep to that. Normalcy, no matter which timeline he's in, is good to have.