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leftnotright · 10 months

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PROOF APOLLO WEARS HAWAIIAN SHIRTS

“The Tri-Ni-Sette machine is failing. The world will die.” “We can’t do anything going forward. Going backwards, however, is another matter.” Ryohei had his mission: To go back. To before the most recent Arcobaleno Curse, to before the slaughter of the Simone. To before the Tri-Ni-Sette System finally gave out. Ryohei was used to loss, in the ring and in life. But this time, he promises, he’ll win. Reborn had his mission: Get in this man’s pants, or die trying. After all, Reborn was nothing if not an Icarus.

(Or: The ‘size matters’ fic)

Parings: Reborn/Sasagawa Ryohei Characters: Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Ten Years Later Sasagawa Ryouhei, Sasagawa Ryouhei, Vindice (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Checker Face | Kawahira Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ryouhei Time Travels

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

CHAPTER 2: I’M GONNA MAKE HIM PROUD IN THE END

Sasagawa Ryohei knew he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. But even a fool could see the writing on the wall when it was so ugly…and so painfully familiar.

Ryohei always knew something was wrong with his relationship with Tsuna. His ‘Harmony’. He knew that it was…Fragile. Straining to keep its hold and bond them through sheer obedience and stubbornness.

They had been told this was what they had, that this feeling was Harmony. They were told they were part of a whole, part of a Set. That their relationship, their bond, their Harmony was perfect and true. The strongest bond between Flames.

They didn’t know any better.

But Ryohei knew.

Ryohei had always known something was wrong. His — instinct, drive, passion — Flame had been put in a sun-shaped box that was ten sizes too small. Too cramped, too awkward. It wasn’t his place.

Tsuna, his little brother of ten long years, was not Ryohei’s Sky.

He should have realised sooner. After all, he’s experienced it before — this pain.

Tsuna wasn’t Ryohei’s first Sky. Ryohei had realised that as soon as he felt that creeping, unsure, frantic nudging at his Flame years ago. He knew what it felt like to be embraced, to Harmonise. It felt like coming home.

And home, for so many years, had been Kyoko. His darling little sister, who always accepted people with open arms and such unyielding optimism.

Kyoko, Hana, Ryohei. A little Set in themselves. The Kings and Queens of their playground. An indisputable trio. But they had grown. And then Ryohei kept growing. His Sun grew, larger and larger until he saw the way it begin to burn them. He saw their skin flush red, the sweat gathered on their napes.

And he remembered the pain, the biting pain in his chest, as his first Harmony burnt itself out. Kyoko had cried for days and no one knew why, all Ryohei could do was stay away and let the blisters heal.

Ryohei had nearly forgotten what it felt like. To be brought Home. Blissful ignorance was so close. And then Tsuna came, with a Sky so vast and welcoming that he thought-

He should have known better.

But he was so glad he had been part of this Set. This rag-tag band of amazing idiots. They were all so fun and fantastic and so warm.

“Please understand,” Talbot said gently, “This journey. There is no return. The past will swallow you.”

“This is a one-way trip,” Verde agreed, “Whoever goes, you’re not coming back.”

The stress in the room had been palpable. Who would go back? Who would be cut off from their Family and Set, forever?

Ryohei watched his Family look at each other, murmuring and biting their lips. They were all so important. Ryohei couldn’t imagine this Set surviving without any of them — Tsuna, Takeshi Hayato, Kyoya, Mukuro, Chrome, Lambo. They were all so necessary. Irreplaceable.

They were all so thoroughly tied into this Set, utterly perfect in their place. The Set was designed for them, down to the ember. A Set built upon the foundations of beliefs, needs and desires fulfilled.

The Set wouldn’t survive with any of those Flames lost. But… Ryohei knew.

Ryohei wasn’t their Sun — oh he wished he was — but he was still their big brother. And big brothers take the hit for the family. They make sure the youngers are happy and safe. Always.

“I’ll go,” Ryohei said again, making sure he was heard.

There was a long silence in the room. Then Mukuro stood from his seat, hands slamming down on the table with a bang.

“Absolutely not!” Mukuro shouted, a fierce look in his eyes. “Ryohei, you are not going.”

Voices piled on top of each other with a vengeance. A chair crashed against a wall, someone ducked a vase. The usual chaos of a Vongola Style Meeting.

“Enough!” Talbot boomed.

Everyone ceased, teeth gritted and fists clenched.

“Sasagawa, do you understand what you’re volunteering for?” Talbot asked him, ancient eyes boring into him from across the room.

Ryohei met them without a word. A quiet, tired acceptance, underlay with a damning drive. Ryohei was used to loss; and knowing what he did, he couldn’t wish it upon his Family. He knew the feeling of coming Home, of being welcomed with open arms — and then being forced to leave.

Ryohei was used to loss. He was the big brother of his Family, he could take it again. One more time for his Family.

“Yeah,” Ryohei said, nodding his head. “I’ll go. Just tell me what to do.”

☀

Among the Vongola’s many sprawling properties which speckled Europe, was the original church of the First Vongola Sun. It was small, with walls made of uneven stone and a roof made of sturdy wood and terracotta tile. The Vongola had been careful to preserve the sanctuary of Father Knuckles.

Ryohei was always thankful for that.

He sat in one of only ten pews, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Sunlight streamed in from an open window and he soaked it up readily, letting the warmth relax him all over exactly as Colonello had taught him years ago.

His meditative state of mind was interrupted, however, when the doors to the church were slammed open, two sets of boots clacking against the tile floor. Ryohei grimaced a bit, knowing who was coming down that aisle, and knowing exactly how pissed they were with him.

“Sasagawa Ryohei, what do you think you’re doing?” Mukuro hissed, kicking the pews until he had a clear area to stand in front of Ryohei. “Why the hell did you volunteer?”

“Ryohei,” Chrome frowned something severe, her hands clenched together in front of her in a show of careful control. “Please tell us why you think you should be the one to go back.”

Ryohei shifted in his seat, anxious energy rushing back now that he had been knocked out of his meditation half-baked. His thumb traced the edges of the Sun jewel on his Vongola Ring in a soothing, repetitive motion.

“Well,” he cleared his throat and sat back, smiling a bit, “Well, it sounded fun to the extreme, ya know? I’m going to the past! Even you haven’t gone to the past, Muku-bro!”

“You still don’t have permission to call me that,” Mukuro scowled before sitting himself down on the edge of the upturned pew. “Tell us honestly, you blundering muscle-head.”

Chrome came and sat beside Ryohei, and between the pews and these people, Ryohei was thoroughly cornered by fast encroaching Mist. It was comforting, despite how many would disagree.

Ryohei glanced between the two Mists. Over the ten years united under a Sky, these two had become his closest friends.

Chrome reminded him so much of his sister, and Ryohei had watched with no little amount of pride as Chrome had truly come into herself as a woman of Vongola. The epitome of deadly grace, Chrome had become an idol for many young mafiosos.

Mukuro was a monster, just like the rest of them. With Flames bright and vibrant, and a skill so perfected that even Arcobaleno fell to him. Ryohei had taken comfort that, with Mukuro at least, he didn’t need to hold back. Mukuro’s illusions could handle being crushed; again, and again. As many times as Ryohei needed to cool his blood.

Some people thought that Mukuro was taking advantage of Ryohei, tricking him into carrying out dastardly deeds and underhanded pranks. Some people thought that Chrome infantilised Ryohei, treated him more like the teenager he was rather than the man he had become.

What they didn’t realise was that Ryohei dealt it back as good as he got. Mukuro wanted to cause havoc? Ryohei was always ready to see if he could bring down a building. Chrome wanted him to come be quiet with her? He’ll carry her until she’s chosen a good napping spot in the orchards.

Together, these two had become his closest friends. The most unlikely of matches. But they had been perfect for him — he just wished he was perfect for them. Even now, he could see the redness in Chrome's cheeks as she tried to cool herself down, her Set burning her from the inside out.

“You guys are too important to go,” Ryohei said finally, and Mukuro raised an eyebrow in response. “The Vongola needs you. You’re the Mists, they’ll need you for defence and to hide how bad this whole situation’s going to get before the timeline uh—”

“Recalibrates according to new variables,” Chrome supplied gently, “New choices making new things happen.”

“Yeah that,” Ryohei pointed at her and she gently pushed it away. “But Talbot said that it’d take time. Like a — a cosmic lag. So, ya know, in the meantime, they’ll need you.”

“And why can’t we just send that damned Cloud?” Mukuro pushed, “Not like that guy wants to hang around with us anyway.”

“CEDEF, Kyoya’s important,” Ryohei insisted, “And so is Hayato, and Takeshi, and Lambo — and of course, Tsuna can’t go back! They’re all so important to the extreme!”

Chrome twisted in her seat, “Are you saying you’re not important, Ryohei?”

Ryohei’s mouth clicked shut. He felt eyes on him, burning into his face, and he resisted the urge to bow his head and hide.

“Never said that,” he muttered, and heard Mukuro tsk in annoyance.

“Good, cause you’re the only person here who I can tolerate for more than fifteen minutes.”

“What about Chrome?” Ryohei asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Doesn’t count,” They answered.

Ryohei smiled when they did that. Chrome and Mukuro were perfect for each other.

“It’s for the best if I go,” Ryohei said slowly, “We can’t leave this in just anyone’s hands. And the Tri-Ni-Sette… I’m going.”

Mukuro stood up sharply and all but gritted out, “It’s because we’re too small, isn’t it?”

Ryohei bit his tongue.

Mukuro crossed his arms irritably. Chrome clasped her hands in her lap tighter.

“We,” Chrome glanced at Mukuro. “We don’t know what we’ll do without you.”

Ryohei stared at Chrome, her flushed cheeks and sweaty nape. It was mid-February, but she had already started to forgo jackets and stockings. He looked to Mukuro, who hid it well, but Ryohei could see his tie was looser than it used to be. And those gloves he used to love, had been finally cast aside.

“You’ll be fine,” Ryohei smiled, throwing his arm over Chrome’s shoulder. “You’ve got Tsuna and you've got each other!” Ryohei looked at Mukuro and said again, “You’ll be okay. I’m sure of it.”

Mukuro gritted his teeth, before letting out a huge breath. He crossed the small space and sat on the other side of Ryohei, boxing him in comfortingly.

“This is all because we’re too small to hold you,” Mukuro murmured, gazing upon the altar where Knuckles used to pray. “Our Harmony, it's too weak to keep you. It always has been.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryohei sighed, and took his arm off Chrome, trying to ignore how she took off her vest as well, covertly fanning herself. “I wish I wasn’t so… difficult for you all. I wish I was right for you. So much.”

“No,” they said at the same time, leaning into his space.

“You do not apologise for this,” Chrome scolded.

Mukuro gazed at Ryohei with a damning determination, a kind of surety Ryohei could only associate with a man who had lived life six times over. Wiser than any one man had a right to be.

“You weren’t too difficult. You were too great for us, Ryohei.”

Ryohei closed his eyes and clenched his hands together, bowing his head until they pressed to his brow.

Mukuro stared at that Ring sitting just shy of Ryohei's forehead. The proof of his position as the Vongola's Sun, the proof of the ten years Ryohei fought alongside them.

"We won't take another Sun," Mukuro announced.

Ryohei flinched, something sour and something so sweet welling in his chest. They would never take another. Never replace him.

"Even if Tsuna brings in another Sun, someone he thinks is the perfect Guardian. We won't accept them. They can be Vongola's Guardian, but they won't be our Sun. Our Ryohei."

Chrome touched Ryohei's hands, the tips of her fingers grazing the starburst scars that dotted his knuckles. All hard-won scores of the times Ryohei had fought for his Family and family.

"Our Sun, our Ryohei," she said with a smile.

☀

“You have a week,” Verde said plainly to Ryohei, surrounded by bits of metal and computers flashing with crunching algorithms. “I’m recalibrating the Tri-Ni-Sette Machine to metabolise Earth Flames. Usually, this shouldn’t take too long but given the weight of the situation, we can’t risk any unforeseen malfunctions.”

Ryohei glanced at a screen off to the side, a progress bar slowly crawling, triangulating a direct trajectory to thirty years ago and then some.

“I suggest you get your affairs in order.”

Ryohei fought the urge to wring his hands, the scent of Namimori air so familiar and cool. He followed a street lined with apartment buildings that reached high into the sky, taking the places of what was once little, family homes back in his youth.

Ryohei turned into an apartment like all the others and rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, knocking on the fourth door.

Hana opened the door and frowned at Ryohei, her hand on her hip as she stared up at him. She looked worn and more than a little tired, hair unbrushed and clothes rumpled.

“Hana!” Ryohei greeted and wrapped the woman in a tight hug.

“Oh — let me down you oaf!” She scolded sharply, her feet kicking as she pushed his face away from her.

Ryohei grinned but let her slip out of his hold. She grunted up at him as she smoothed out her already wrinkled t-shirt.

“I hope you brought those dragon fruits with you. Kyoko’s got some killer cravings right now.”

Ryohei laughed and showed the bag hanging from his hand. Dragon fruits and salad dressing — specifically the vinegary Caesar dressing kind. Hana nearly deflated in relief.

Kyoko looked up when Ryohei and Hana walked into the living room. She was cradled in a plush armchair by the window with her feet propped up and her hand resting on the swell of her belly. Kyoko reached out as Ryohei approached, her face utterly bright with joy.

“Salad dressing!” Kyoko cheered, taking the bag from Ryohei’s hands and peering inside.

“Hello to you too,” Ryohei pouted and sat himself down on a footstool beside Kyoko’s chair. “Slow down, Hana’s getting you a plate.”

“Don’t need it,” Kyoko muttered and bit into the fruit like an apple. “Skin’s healthy.”

The woman then proceeded to take a swig of salad dressing and Ryohei had to look away.

One would think that Kyoko would crave everything sweet and sugary at a time like this, but it seemed that the baby wasn’t as much of a sweet tooth. They had more of a taste for salt and vinegar, and often it led to Kyoko crying until her tongue allowed her to eat sweets again.

“You’re looking about ready to pop,” Ryohei said, offering his sister a tissue which she ignored in favour of cracking open another fruit. “Do you have a due date yet?”

“A few more weeks, looking at late next month,” Hana answered for them, scooping up the skin scraps on her wife’s lap and putting the rest of the dragon fruits on a plate. “They’ve definitely got Sasagawa blood in them though, he’s been kicking poor Kyoko at all hours.”

“Maybe he’ll be a boxer like you!” Kyoko beamed, and like she remembered to be a gracious hostess, quickly offered Ryohei a salad dressing-soaked dragonfruit.

“No thank you,” Ryohei denied as softly as he could, he had set her off before when rejecting one of her offerings. In his defence, it had been ice cream and buffalo sauce.

“Like I’d let that happen,” Hana scoffed and let herself flop down across the couch, wheezing with great fatigue.

“Rough night?” Ryohei asked, tossing a pillow at Hana for her head.

“Hana’s been doing overtime to clear her calendar for the baby,” Kyoko hummed. “And she’s been doing my share of some of the chores.”

“Your feet and legs are double their normal size, woman. You are not walking around more than you need to,” Hana mumbled into her pillow.

Kyoko smiled and cooed wordlessly at Hana, making happy little noises as she continued to gorge herself on her weird concoction. Hana glanced at Kyoko out of the corner of her eye and smiled back in a way she only showed to Kyoko.

Ryohei felt his chest grow warm at the quiet affection shared between his sister and sister-in-law. It was times like these, Ryohei was glad that Hana had left him to be with Kyoko. They were so happy now.

It had taken a while for Kyoko to accept Hana, she had always been a loyal little sister. But Ryohei was glad she had listened to him.

They were good for each other, brought out the best of each other. And they loved each other, deeply and warmly. Kyoko was better for Hana, and Hana was best for Kyoko.

It had stung when Hana had told him she thought they should see other people, after all, he had been so sure she was ‘the one’. But his baby sister got to have her happy ever after, so in the end, it all ended well. Ryohei had come to terms with the fact that, maybe, love just wasn’t for him.

And he got a nephew out of it! So all well that ends well, he supposed.

Ryohei bit the inside of his cheek. He just wished he got to meet them, even just once. Got to see his sister holding her baby, got to spoil them utterly rotten…

“Speaking…Speaking of overtime,” Ryohei cleared his throat, and Kyoko looked over, all too attuned to her brother’s tones. Her brother, and ex-Sun. Kyoko was very good at reading Ryohei. “The Vongola… I’m going on a trip.”

“What kind of trip?” Kyoko asked carefully.

Ryohei smiled thinly, trying to pick out his words carefully. “A long one. Far away too.”

Hana had sat up at this point, her hands in her lap and her eyes sharp — but she remained quiet, letting her wife and Sky speak for both of them.

“Are we allowed to contact you during your trip?” Kyoko asked. It wouldn’t be the first time Ryohei had to drop off the map for a while, gone incognito. He had a very forgettable face when he managed to keep a cap on his energy.

“No,” Ryohei admitted, “No, I won’t be…able to talk to anyone.”

Kyoko frowned more and started to pet her belly absently, a kind of self-soothing habit she had formed in the recent months.

“When will you come back?”

Ryohei paused for a moment too long, staring past Kyoko and out the window behind her. Out at Namimori.

He wondered if his nephew would attend Namimori Middle, if they’d walk the same paths he and Kyoko walked so many times. He wondered if they’d use the same classrooms — or if Kyoko’s prediction would come to be and they’d join the boxing club just like their uncle.

“Ryohei,” Kyoko pressed and he shifted his eyes over to her with a sheepish smile. “When are you coming home?”

Home.

“Not for a long time,” Ryohei said gently, and took Kyoko’s hand in his own when he saw that flash of panic in her expression. “This is a big job this time, Kyoko. Your big brother’s got a lot of work to do.”

“Ryohei—”

“But you’re a big girl now, Kyoko,” he smiled, “You’ve got your life together! You’ve got your Bachelors, you’re married, and you’ve got an extreme baby on the way! You don’t need your big brother all up in your business, getting in the way.”

“You can’t go. I’m having a baby, I need you,” Kyoko said, gripping Ryohei’s hand with a vengeance.

“You’ll be okay, you know that. You have Hana spoiling you, and Tsuna would bend the Vongola backwards to look after your every need. Mum and Dad are also just a call away — God knows Mum’s been ready for a grandchild, she’s just been scared it’d come from me!”

Hana snorted in the background. She had been a victim of the Sasagawa matriarch’s empty-nest syndrome twice now. The only difference was the first time around had been full of caution and warnings about the child being too much like its potential father.

“But I need you,” Kyoko pleaded, looking at Ryohei and trying to see in his face why he was leaving.

Ryohei grinned, stomping down a sting in his chest, “You haven’t needed me for a long time, Kyoko.”

She had cried for days when their Harmony had broken, withering away like a dried sapling under the sun. Their youth had been on their side, however, and their wounds had healed without so much as a scar. She continued life with her usual bright smiles and unrelenting optimism.

Like she had never even had a Sun. But Ryohei remembered.

“I’m gonna miss welcoming them with you,” Ryohei continued, looking to Kyoko’s stomach. “But you’d probably just yell at me for yelling or crying on the baby.”

“We’re already expecting one screamer, we don’t need another,” Hana sniped from the couch and Ryohei let out a laugh.

“Why do you have to go?” Kyoko asked, still holding Ryohei’s hand in a death grip.

Ryohei looked at her little hand in his own, small and adorned in a shining wedding ring.

“I’m just doing what I always do: I’m looking after my little siblings. My family will always come first. You, Hana, Tsuna, Chrome, Mukuro, and all the others. I’m going so that I can help you, as best I can.” Ryohei looked at her again and smiled reassuringly, pushing as much Sun and warmth into the air as he could.

It didn’t do what he wanted it to. Kyoko wasn’t his Sky anymore.

Her face turned a sickly shade of green and Hana quickly stood from the couch and pushed a cup of water into Kyoko’s hands, a small bucket under her arm just in case. Pregnancy was a finicky thing, and Flames had a history of making things just that little bit more complicated.

Ryohei smiled through it and pulled his Sun back to his chest, letting Hana’s Cloud dapple the space and sooth her Sky.

“But you’re leaving,” Kyoko coughed, wiping her mouth.

Ryohei looked at his sister and then looked to her stomach, full of life and potential. A child ready to take on the whole world and outshine any of them.

A dying world, slowly grinding to a halt.

Ryohei wouldn’t let that happen. Ryohei was going to hand over this world to that little life, and he was going to make sure they had as much time in it as they wanted. To play, make mistakes, love, grow and live.

Ryohei would always put his family first.

“Hey, Kyoko, Hana,” he began softly, and they both looked over. “Can you promise me that you’ll tell them about me? Extreme stories of their extreme uncle?”

Kyoko opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She wrung her hands in her dress, confusion and stress in her expression.

“We will,” Hana announced, her hand tight on her wife’s shoulder. “We’ll tell them everything. The time you pissed your pants in Elementary, when you climbed a bathhouse chimney like a damned fool, when you chased everyone who you thought would put up a fight. No embarrassing detail spared, you big oaf.”

Ryohei smiled.

☀

The Vongola Sun Quarters had always been rather modest in design. Embellishments and ornaments restrained to cornices and windows. When Ryohei had moved into the Sun Quarters, he had been told that Knuckles had been adamant about keeping the place humble and simple, and despite the many hands this room had been passed between, they had all respected its origins.

Furniture and personal taste had come and gone, but the bones of the room remained the same. No one had dared to paint the walls, or commission craftsmen to refurbish the fixtures. The only true change to the room over the centuries had been the electrical lights and security.

Ryohei was happy he could keep to the tradition. All his things were in boxes, ready to be dispersed to their next owners. The Vongola Sun Quarters were once again bare.

On his bed, Ryohei’s one luggage sat still open. He was packing everything he thought he’d need or couldn’t part with, everything and anything that could fit in one bag.

Clothes weren’t important, those could be bought again. What Ryohei packed were photos of everyone, carefully and painstakingly edited by Basil to ensure no Vongola alignments or dates were visible. Photos, keepsakes, first aid kit and underwear.

Ryohei looked through his diaries, seeing all the notes he had made for himself over the years and deciding which ones to take. What he wanted to remember the most, what he wanted to make sure would never slip his mind.

There was a soft knock at his door and Ryohei didn’t need to turn around to sense the presence of an aching Sky.

Tsuna stepped into the room and chewed his inner cheek, desperately trying not to look in any one direction for too long. He had never seen the Sun Quarters so empty before. It was a gaping reminder that Ryohei had only hours left.

“Hey, Tsuna!” Ryohei greeted, turning around and leaning back on his desk. “What’s up?”

Tsuna closed the door behind him and walked deeper into the hollowed-out room. He looked tired, his clothes rumpled and his hair askew. It made Ryohei frown a bit, but Tsuna spoke first.

“I… We need to talk about some stuff,” Tsuna uttered slowly, coming to a stop just a few strides away from Ryohei.

“Huh? Uh, sure, what stuff?”

Tsuna glanced at Ryohei's suitcase, full of photos and keepsakes. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe and recentre himself.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, flat and to the point. “Going to the past — Tabolt and Verde said you can't come back. Are you sure about this?”

Ryohei smiled at Tsuna and the way his hands were clenched at his sides. Tsuna was wound tight, nervous, anxious and confused.

“Yeah, I'm sure. This is important, we can't give it to just anyone!” Ryohei assured, and Tsuna looked at him.

His face was flushed, his eyes were red. Tsuna crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels, shoulders hunched.

“Are you sure about leaving us?” Tsuna asked, “Leaving our Harmony?”

Ryohei’s smile wavered, his hands clutched at the edge of his desk.

“Yeah,” Ryohei said again, voice soft in the quiet room. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Tsuna’s face pinched. Ryohei hadn’t even seen Tsuna make that kind of a face when he had been shot.

“I’m sorry,” Tsuna uttered.

“Hey, come on, little bro,” Ryohei soothed and pushed off from his desk. He crossed the room and grasped Tsuna by his shoulders. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“But I could have been better,” Tsuna whispered, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know — maybe if I had tried harder, listened to Reborn more then—”

Ryohei smiled at Tsuna, at the Sky.

Not His Sky, but a Sky nonetheless. A Sky that, hurt and scared, had let Ryohei in and given him a home for years. Had given him a Family, a place to belong.

“You did everything you could,” Ryohei assured, and bent at the knees so he could see those eyes that had captured the Italian Mafia. “We’ve been together for an extreme ten years. Why would you apologise for that?”

Ten years under a Sky who did his best, who opened his arms — under duress or not — and that kept Ryohei close to his heart. A Sky who let Ryohei burn him for ten years.

How could Ryohei ever resent Tsuna?

“It’ll hurt,” Tsuna murmured, “You’ll be gone.”

Ryohei nodded understandingly, and then said, “But it’ll hurt less than it does now.”

Tsuna flinched hard. He didn’t deny it.

How could he? Tsuna couldn’t have known what was happening when he was young, fresh in chaos and Harmony. Tsuna had been so overwhelmed with his world all aflutter, there was no way he could have recognised where the fever was coming from.

Their Harmony was weak, corroded. Tsuna understood that now.

He wished he didn’t.

For all that talk of ‘Neo-Primo’, of ‘Oath Flame’, of ‘Vastest Sky’, Tsuna couldn’t even keep his Sun and brother.

Ryohei squeezed Tsuna’s shoulders and let go. Tsuna could still feel the brand of those hands, an uncomfortable heat that left him parched and needing the cover of his Cloud, the cool of his Rain.

Tsuna raised his head and Ryohei’s smile was still there, warm and unyielding as ever.

Their Harmony broke, and settled into ash.

Tsuna swallowed and Ryohei nodded slowly, because he knew. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt anymore, and Tsuna could feel it. The relief had drenched his body, leaving him cool and refreshed, like stepping into shade.

It hurt that it barely hurt.

Ten years — a whole decade — of knowing and loving each other. Ten years of fighting side by side, of the weight of the mafia, the world and life shared on their shoulders. Ten years of trying so hard to be a good Sky, a good Sun, a perfect Harmony—

Letting go was so easy.

It should have been painful. It should have hurt. It should have been like ripping out a part of their hearts, like prying the pieces of each other from their soul—

Like putting down a heavy burden. Finally lying down the boulder. Finally unlatching the chains.

Letting go was so easy.

Tsuna didn’t know when he started to cry.

Ryohei didn’t know if it was out of grief.

“You are my little brother, whether you like it or not,” Ryohei said, not a quiver in his voice, not a catch in his throat.

“Of course,” Tsuna agreed, and didn’t move to wipe his face when a tear tracked down his cheek. He sat in the misery, and tried not to identify where it came from. “Always, Ryohei. You’re family. Kyoko would kill me.”

Ryohei let out a laugh.

“That’s why I’m going, Tsuna,” he continued, and looked around at his room, stripped bare and packed up in boxes. “You, the guys, Kyoko, Hana, and the kids. You’re all my family. This machine thing is our last shot. I want to be there to make sure it happens.”

Tsuna blinked, trying to make another tear fall. His eyes had already dried up.

“I understand,” Tsuna nodded, hands clasped in front of him. “Thank you, brother.”

Ryohei grinned and threw an arm around Tsuna’s shoulders, jostling the younger man and pat his chest, “No worries, lil bro! Why don’t you go find Hayato and Takeshi? You’re looking less than extreme, and those two always fix you right up.”

Tsuna turned his head and buried his face in Ryohei’s shoulder, pressing hard and sure like he was trying to impress the feeling into his memory. Then he pulled back and wiped at his face, red and flushed, and Ryohei took his arm off him.

“I’ll see you at dinner then,” Tsuna said, standing in Ryohei’s doorway.

He looked bright standing there. Already, the sweat had started to dry, and that red flush had gone pink and receded. Tsuna felt cool for the first time in ten years.

“See you at dinner,” Ryohei waved, and the door clicked shut.

Ryohei dropped his hand and stood alone in the Sun Quarters. Somewhere down the halls, he heard the sounds of crashing in the Mist Quarters. There was a haunting silence everywhere else.

Everyone had felt it. The Sun was gone. The heat had ended.

They were free now.

Ryohei looked at his diaries, still strewn open across his desk. He walked over and grabbed one from two years ago, opened to the page detailing Kyoko and Hana’s wedding — He tore the page out. Ryohei looked for when Lambo graduated from Elementary school. He tore that out too. A series of logs about odd napping spots Tsuna was seen in during crunch time. Takeshi’s twenty-third birthday. Hayato’s existential crisis. Kyoya’s animal adoption phase. Chrome frantically dodging marriage requests. Mukuro using his illusions to create a haunted house for the kids.

Ryohei tore and tore, ripping pages out one after another. Then he took a pen, hearing the plastic crack under his too-tight grip and began scratching out all the names and dates. He couldn’t decide which book had the most memories, so he took it all. All of his most important memories stacked together in a disjointed, tattered and defaced pile.

He dropped the pen and let it roll off somewhere, looking at the pages and how high they stacked. Years worth of life condensed into a pile of paper, frayed unevenly at the edges and full of spelling mistakes.

Ryohei looked over to his luggage and pulled out one of his keepsakes: the bandages he had wrapped his fists with during the battle for the Rings. They were worn and speckled with bits of dried blood and sweat.

He unravelled one of the wraps and tied the loose papers together into a bundle. It bent oddly in sections, the knot was askew and he was sure the pages were going to be curved into some weird shape within time — it was a ragged stack of memories.

Ryohei tossed it into his luggage and snapped everything shut.

☀

Despite the fact that Verde had been hailed as the next coming of Da Vinci, he had never been particularly artistic with his machines. They tended to be brutalist in design, with sharp edges and geometric shapes. Function over fashion.

It left Ryohei wondering if he was seeing poetry where there was none, searching for light in the dark.

The time machine was massive. With two swooping arms of wire and metal plating that arched into the air. It was like an enormous metallic laurel, wreathing the platform that would send Ryohei far away and far ago. That machine against the backdrop of Autumn in full golden swing, framed by the orange and yellow trees that rowed the walls of a quiet valley, only made it shine more.

It looked magnificent. It looked terrifying.

“I trust you have everything,” Talbot said as Ryohei approached the machine, his hand clutching the handle of his suitcase.

“Yes,” Ryohei nodded, “And I got those fake IDs.”

“The forged identification, yes, that will certainly make life easier,” Talbot agreed, thumbing the side of his bird’s head cane. “And, forgive me for asking again, but you understand what you are getting yourself into, yes?”

Ryohei smiled at the old man, “Yeah, I know. I’m looking after my family, right?”

Talbot paused for a moment, regarding the response. Then he smiled with wrinkled lips and settled himself on the uneven ground.

“Indeed,” Talbot murmured.

Grass crunched underfoot and Ryohei turned to meet the many gazes of the Vongola Family, all of them dressed in black suits like they were mourning a loss. For a moment, Ryohei wondered if Kyoko would come to see him off, but then remembered that the baby wouldn’t handle altitude sickness well.

Tsuna stepped forward from the group, dew clinging to the toes of his shoes and making them shine with the machine’s light.

“Ryohei,” he began softly, then took a breath and spoke again, louder. “Where you’re going, to the past. You can’t take anything incriminating. Anything with a Vongola embellishment, I need you to return.”

Ryohei knew this was coming. He had at least hoped to keep Kangaryuu — but the emblazoned ‘VONGOLA’ that had been stamped across it said otherwise. Ryohei nodded and reached into his pocket, pulled out his Box Weapon and handed Kangaryuu over.

Ryohei glanced at his Ring, golden yellow and always warm on his hand. He took it off before he could think twice and, like it burnt, dropped it into Tsuna’s awaiting hand.

It happened faster than Ryohei could realise. The Ring, always so bright and vivid, dulled without notice. Then a soft light shone from within, just like all those years ago when it had been unsealed—

A simple, grey metal band with a shield pendant sat in Tsuna’s palm. Locked and sealed. Just as it had been nearly a decade ago back when they had battled for them against the Varia.

“After all, you truly are Knuckle’s true successor,” Talbot said gently.

Ryohei stared at the cold, contained Ring, and he felt his heart soar. He was Knuckle’s true successor. Even if he wasn’t Tsuna’s, even if he wasn’t Vongola, Ryohei was still Knuckle’s.

He shouldn’t be happy. He really shouldn’t and he knew that. But as Ryohei stared at that tightly sealed Ring once more, he knew he would never be forgotten. That once he was gone, whoever came next, whatever Sun came to take his Quarters, his Box, his Family — They’d never truly replace him. They’d never have his Ring.

Ryohei would never be forgotten. Knuckles would make sure of that.

Mukuro huffed from off to the side, a kind of snide, vindictive sneer to his expression. He was right, whatever Sun Tsuna brought home would never be his.

Ryohei shouldn’t be so happy.

“Calibrations are ready,” Verde called out.

“R-Right,” Tsuna snapped to attention, his eyes just as locked to the Ring as Ryohei’s.

Verde loudly scoffed from his place wrapped in computers and gestured for Ryohei to hurry up.

Ryohei swallowed his anxiety and walked the path between his family and all their allies, the machine aglow with a pale yellow light. The machine gave a soft clunk as he stepped up onto the pedestal, and Ryohei noticed how the air seemed charged, nearly vibrating as he inhaled it.

“Remember your mission Ryohei,” Hayato called out, his arms crossed irritably, visibly uncomfortable. “Find the Vindice, give them the info, get that machine built.”

“Right!” Ryohei shouted as the machine began to give a low, rumbling ‘whirr’.

“And remember what you promised me!” Mukuro reminded, the tone coming through gritted teeth.

“Of course!” He nodded, grinning through the nerves. “Of course, I won’t forget!”

“Ryohei!” Tsuna called out and Ryohei looked over. “Make sure that machine gets built! Please!”

Ryohei nodded, fists clenched at his sides. Then his family all bent at the waist, their Japanese heritage resurfacing with a vengeance as they all bowed their heads to their older brother and school-life ‘senpai’.

“Thank you very much!” They all said together.

Ryohei felt his eyes sting and his vision swim. He took a sharp breath.

“Take care of each other!” Ryohei ordered them and raised his arms in a large, boisterous wave.

The laurel’s metallic tips met high above his head, sparks flew-

Ryohei stood in a large field, with emerald trees and grass as far as the eye could see. His hands still raised to wave goodbye.

#khr #sasagawa ryohei #reborn #fanfiction #time travel fic #fix it fic #khr rare pair #leftnotright #ao3 #proof apollo wear hawaiian shirts

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