The ramen bowl was nearly empty, the last strands of noodle softening in the rich broth as Tsuna set his chopsticks down. Kawahira still hadn't moved from behind the counter, his posture relaxed, but his eyes—always watching—hadn't left Tsuna's face since the question.
"Have you thought about my offer?" Tsuna had asked.
Kawahira studied him for a beat longer.
"I have," he said mildly. "But before I agree, I need to know: what exactly do you want in exchange for the method?"
Tsuna leaned back slightly, wiping his mouth with the napkin, his motions slow, contemplative.
Yesterday, he hadn't been sure. A vague favor, a future possibility—something he'd thought Kawahira would accept more easily, with nothing immediate required of either of them. But then he had returned to the Sawada house.
He had eaten food made by a woman who didn't see him. Slept in a bed that hadn't felt safe. Vomited out the hurt and memory of a boy who had been ignored until he disappeared.
So now, he knew exactly what he wanted.
"Room and board," Tsuna said simply. "In exchange for the method."
Kawahira raised an eyebrow, ever so slightly.
Tsuna continued, his voice steady, clear.
"I don't want to live in that house anymore. I'm not welcome there—not really. And I know I'm legally just barely an adult, but it's going to be hard to get a job without finishing high school."
He paused, fingers tightening slightly around the rim of the bowl.
"This year was supposed to be my last. But I don't want to go back to that school. Not because I'm afraid of the students. I could deal with them if I had to. I just don't see the point. I already have the knowledge. I just need the paper that says I graduated."
His gaze lifted, meeting Kawahira's again.
"If you help me—find a job, give me a place to stay—I'll give you what you want. Everything. The process. The conditions. The technical and metaphysical mechanics behind breaking the Arcobaleno curse."
A faint note of resolve, brittle but sharp, crept into his voice.
"I'm not asking for comfort. Just… freedom. And time."
Kawahira regarded him in silence, unreadable.
Then he asked, curious rather than skeptical:
"Is that all?"
Tsuna hesitated.
A breath. A flicker of memory—those strangers sniffing the air when he passed, their eyes following him like he was a new scent to be categorized.
His stomach turned slightly.
"One more thing," he said at last. "I want something to hide my scent."
Kawahira didn't ask why. He didn't scoff or pry.
He only nodded slowly, folding his hands in front of him.
"I can make something for that. It'll require some tuning, but I've done similar things before."
He paused, glancing toward the back room.
"You can work here. I'll handle your meals, give you the upstairs room. You'll have a key. You can stay until you finish your high school degree—or until I forge you a suitable equivalent and you can look for something else."
Tsuna exhaled, a long, quiet breath that seemed to pull the tension from his spine.
Relief, heavy and sincere, settled into his shoulders.
"Thank you," he said softly.
Kawahira waved it off with a flick of his hand.
"You're giving me a solution that's eluded generations. I'd be a fool not to take the bargain."
A pause.
"But… I'm not giving you this for free," he added, a glint of old habit in his eyes.
Tsuna blinked.
"It's an exchange," Kawahira said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That's how you said you wanted it, right?"
And despite everything—despite the ache still settled in his bones—Tsuna almost smiled too.
Kawahira didn't rush him after Tsuna accepted—just sipped quietly at tea behind the counter, letting the silence stretch.
Tsuna broke it, voice low but certain.
"You'll need strong Flames," he said. "High purity, high output. At least three Sky bearers, and one of them has to be willing to harmonize across the pacifiers."
Kawahira didn't look surprised, only thoughtful.
"Talbot's craft is key for anchoring the pacifiers to something other than the soul. His alchemy is… precise enough. And Bermuda's input is necessary, even if he's not cooperative. He understands the curse from its core."
Tsuna's eyes darkened slightly.
"The pacifiers aren't just symbols. They're batteries—containers. If you want to break the curse, you have to redirect what powers them and why. Rewriting the system is easier than trying to remove it."
He didn't elaborate further—not yet. Kawahira didn't ask. They both knew the real explanation would come with diagrams, notes, and timelines. But this was enough—for now.
Later that afternoon, Tsuna made his way back to the house.
It felt strange to walk up to it with a sense of finality in his steps. The key was still where it always was, beneath the flower pot. He let himself in quietly.
The house smelled faintly of miso and lilac, but it felt sterile. Empty.
A post-it note was stuck on the fridge in Nana's handwriting, bubbly and soft:
"Went out for groceries! Be back later. Don't forget to eat. ♡"
He stared at it for a moment before turning away.
Upstairs, his room was just as he'd left it: slightly messy, scattered with old things he wouldn't take. He moved through the space slowly, opening drawers, choosing only the essentials: a few sets of clothes, underwear, toiletries, a hairbrush. His school ID, just in case. A single cologne bottle—not to use, just… to remember.
He folded everything carefully into a plain backpack. It was light.
The room was cleaner now than it had been in months. Or maybe it was just… emptier.
He stood in the doorway for a moment, hand resting on the frame.
Then, without thinking too hard, he turned back toward the kitchen.
He picked a pen from the counter and a pad of sticky notes beside the fridge. Right next to hers.
And he wrote.
Mom,
I'm moving out. I've found a job. I'm grown enough to live on my own now.
Please don't worry about me—if you ever did.
You can go to Italy with Dad and Ieyasu like you wanted. I'll be fine.
—Tsuna
He peeled the note off, sticking it just beside hers—her world, and his departure, side by side.
He stepped outside without looking back, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
.
The upstairs room was quiet and dim when Kawahira led him in. The stairs creaked slightly under their weight, and the hallway had a smell of dust and lacquered wood, like the whole upper floor had been sealed in time.
The room itself was small but not cramped. The furniture looked ancient—well-cared-for antiques, solid and dark. A desk that might've once belonged to a scholar, an old armoire with brass handles, a nightstand with faint floral carvings. The bed was western-style, low to the floor, with an iron frame and plain sheets folded neatly atop.
The window overlooked a nondescript alley, and the walls were papered in faded rice parchment designs.
It was quiet. A little creaky. A little odd.
It was perfect.
"It's old," Kawahira said from the doorway. "But functional. And yours now."
Tsuna nodded, stepping in and placing his backpack beside the bed. He opened it slowly, beginning to unpack.
"Do you already have candidates for the Flames you'll need?" Kawahira asked casually, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe.
Tsuna placed his spare clothes into the armoire, folding each item with care before answering.
"Some. The current Sky Arcobaleno is Yuni, right?"
Kawahira's eyes narrowed briefly, then he gave a small nod.
"Yes. She inherited the pacifier two years ago."
"Then she'll help," Tsuna said. "She always has—at least in my world. We'll need her harmonization abilities."
He moved to arrange his toothbrush and cologne on the small desk, pausing a moment to let Kawahira's silence settle.
"We'll also need Byakuran."
Kawahira lifted a brow.
"You're sure?"
"He probably already knows about me if he's in possession of his ring," Tsuna said, tone resigned but not bitter. "His Mare Ring lets him see alternate realities, and he received it a little more than a year ago, right?"
Kawahira nodded slowly, thoughtful now.
"If he hasn't reached out yet, it's only because he's waiting to see which timeline this turns into."
Tsuna huffed softly, setting his bag on the floor again.
"He'll help. He's not all bad—once he's not trying to destroy the world."
Kawahira said nothing to that, but his smile was barely there, faint and amused.
"What about Talbot? He'll be necessary to stabilize the new system. And he's… not easy to contact unless you go through the Vongola."
"I know," Tsuna murmured, sitting on the bed and letting his shoulders rest. "He studied the pacifiers, the Vongola rings, the Mare rings. He can make the anchors we need. But I don't want to kidnap an old man."
"I could do it," Kawahira offered lightly. "Quietly. Neatly."
"I know you could," Tsuna replied dryly. "But we'll have to deal with the Vongola eventually anyway."
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.
"That means dealing with my brother."
Kawahira's expression sharpened slightly, but he said nothing. Not yet.
"And Bermuda?" he asked after a beat. "He won't be pleased to work with either of us. He hates me in particular."
Tsuna gave a tired shrug.
"He'll help—once he understands what he gets out of it. I know what he wants."
"Revenge?" Kawahira asked mildly.
"Control," Tsuna said. "And a system where his Flames mean something again. If we remove the Tri-ni-sette's monopoly and give Bermuda control over the Night side of the Flame balance, he'll cooperate."
"You'd give him that much power?"
"He already has it," Tsuna said simply. "We're just pretending he doesn't. Might as well put it to use."
Kawahira's eyes were unreadable as he watched him. "Will you be comfortable acting as my representative in this? With the Vongola. With the Vindice. With Bermuda."
Tsuna didn't hesitate. "Sure."
There was silence for a long moment. Then Kawahira nodded once, a small, decisive tilt of the head. "Then I'll make arrangements."
Tsuna leaned back on his elbows, gazing at the ceiling.
He was in a strange house, with a half-immortal Mist user, preparing to dismantle a cosmic flame system again.
And yet, for the first time since waking up in this world, he felt like he belonged somewhere.