Footsteps echoed from the hallway just as the quiet between Takemichi and Shinichiro began to settle again.
The door swung open without ceremony, Mikey leading the charge with a half-eaten melon bread in hand, his eyes immediately locking onto Takemichi.
Specifically, Takemichi's puffy, still-slightly-red eyes.
"Oi!" Mikey pointed dramatically, voice rising. "Did you make Takemitchy cry?!"
Takemichi startled. "What?! No! He didn't—Shinichiro-san didn't do anything! Also, Takemitchy?"
Shinichiro blinked, one brow raised, clearly amused by the outburst.
Draken followed behind, less theatrical but no less concerned. He dropped into the chair beside Takemichi with a quiet sigh and passed him a cold tea from the convenience store. "What were you guys talking about?"
Shinichiro offered a mild shrug. "I wanted to thank him properly. And we got to talking about his family."
Mikey leaned in with renewed interest. "Oh yeah! Your parents still overseas?"
Takemichi nodded. "Yeah. They haven't come back yet."
Mikey frowned. "That sucks. They leave you alone like that a lot? Do your mom and dad even treat you right?"
Takemichi blinked at the sudden concern. "Of course they do! I mean... I don't have a mom, but I have two dads. And they're great."
That earned a full pause.
Draken blinked. "Wait. Like… two dads? Your stepdad?"
"No," Takemichi clarified, patient but already feeling the awkwardness rising. "Both are my dads. They're married. I was raised by them."
Draken tilted his head. "So... which one's your biological dad?"
"Both of them are," Takemichi said automatically. "My dad is Tsuna and my papa—Reborn—is his partner."
Draken frowned slightly, confused but following. "Okay... so what about your mom? Does she know you're living on your own here?"
Takemichi hesitated for a second. "... I don't have a biological mom."
There was silence until Mikey leaned forward, brows drawn. "Wait. What do you mean, you don't have one?"
Draken gave Takemichi a look somewhere between concern and Very Patient Teacher™.
"Okay, uh, not to be weird or anything," Draken said slowly, gesturing vaguely with his hands, "but like... when a man and a woman really like each other, they—uh—have a kid. That's... sort of how it works."
"I know how reproduction works. I've had the lectures," Takemichi said flatly, clearly done with this already.
Shinichiro coughed into his fist, trying and failing to hide his grin.
"But I wasn't born that way. I was carried in an artificial womb. There wasn't a mother involved, not really."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Mikey's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
Draken stared. "You were... what?"
"Artificial womb," Takemichi repeated, arms crossed now, clearly used to having to explain this. "Like, lab-grown. My older brother too. It's not that complicated."
Draken and Mikey turned toward Shinichiro like he was supposed to fix this.
"Is that—" Draken started. "Like—is that real? Can that actually happen?"
"It's 2004," Mikey added, voice suspicious. "People are still trying to figure out how to make DVD players not skip when you sneeze."
Shinichiro raised his hands a little, palms out in a peacekeeping gesture.
"Hey, look," he said, voice calm but a little nervous. "I mean, here, that kind of thing's still pretty... experimental. But maybe in Europe—or Italy—things are more advanced in, uh, certain areas."
He gave Takemichi a glance, not quite a wink, but something quietly knowing. "Especially if there were, you know... private scientists involved."
Takemichi nodded like that explained everything, which—honestly—just made it worse.
Mikey narrowed his eyes. "Wait. You're half-Italian?"
Takemichi blinked. "...Yeah? Didn't I say that?"
"No," Mikey said.
Draken groaned. "You really didn't."
Mikey studied him with great intensity, then jabbed a finger toward his head. "That explains your hair. It sticks up like spaghetti."
Takemichi stared at him. "That's not how genetics works—"
"Exactly like spaghetti," Mikey said, nodding solemnly.
Draken rubbed his temples. "We just had a science lesson and this is what you're taking from it?"
Takemichi sighed and looked at Shinichiro. "I take it back. I don't want to be understood anymore."
Shinichiro laughed—warm and full and real. When he finally got his breath back, Draken leaned forward, brows raised in lingering curiosity.
"So, uh," he said, "you said your parents treat you well, right? What are they like?"
Takemichi brightened. "Oh, they're great!"
He didn't even hesitate.
"My dad runs this big conglomerate," he began, waving his hands like he wasn't referring to a global empire. "Huge. Like, he has offices all over the world, but he works mostly from home now. He's pretty quiet—super organized, kind of passive-aggressive in the weirdest ways."
Mikey raised a brow. "Passive-aggressive how?"
Takemichi shrugged like it was no big deal. "Like, if he gets mad at my papa, he won't yell or anything. He just switches his coffee for decaf."
Draken blinked. "...That's pretty normal. And petty."
"Oh, totally. Or he'll move all of Papa's favorite suits to the other side of the walk-in closet. Just to mildly inconvenience him."
Shinichiro raised his brows, lips twitching like he was about to watch a train wreck. Takemichi kept going, completely unaware.
"My papa used to be my dad's teacher and bodyguard—and technically still is—but now he mostly follows him around causing chaos. Says it keeps Dad 'sharp.'"
"What kind of chaos?" Draken asked, already suspicious.
Takemichi didn't miss a beat. "Like sometimes he'll set off the security alarms just to see Dad panic and try to disarm the system before the house locks down. Or he'll put live crabs in the bathtub."
Mikey nearly choked. "Why?!"
"He says the panic in Dad's eyes brings him joy."
Draken stared. "...That sounds like a villain origin story."
"Oh, no, they love each other," Takemichi said cheerfully. "They've been together for ages. Papa just likes to cause mayhem and Dad likes to clean it up. It's their love language."
Takemichi leaned back in his chair, tea cradled in his hands, gaze turned upward as he talked, completely unaware of the expressions forming around him.
"The mornings are usually pretty calm back home—unless Papa's already awake. If he is, he likes to set mini traps around the house. Not dangerous or anything, just annoying. Like the time he tied all the doorknobs together with fishing line and then made Dad chase a drone holding the house keys."
He smiled, fond. "Dad got his revenge, though. He switched Papa's espresso with instant coffee and replaced all the sugar with salt. It took him three sips to notice, and he nearly set the kitchen on fire out of spite. They didn't talk for two days except through post-it notes."
Beside him, Draken had stopped mid-sip of his tea, staring.
"But they made up when Papa short-circuited the home security system to lock Dad in the sauna until he forgave him. He was in there for three hours. When we let him out, he'd written I still love you on the steamed glass wall."
Shinichiro had begun slowly shaking his head, eyes dark with some combination of awe and dread, but Takemichi kept going, undeterred. "Weekends are the worst, though. That's when my uncles usually visit. Uncle Lambo likes to test out his inventions in the garden. He once made a trampoline that launched people over the hedge—accidentally. Probably."
"Uncle Ryohei hosts surprise boxing tournaments in the courtyard. No warning, he just yells EXTREME FAMILY BONDING and rings a bell. And if you don't run fast enough, you end up in gloves."
He sighed, smiling gently. "The month before I came to Japan, we had to rebuild the east wing. Again. It's always the east wing."
Draken's eyes were wide, horrified. Mikey's mouth hung open. And Shinichiro looked like he was either going to faint or file for legal emancipation on Takemichi's behalf.
"Oh, and the pool? It's a hot spring now," Takemichi continued matter-of-factly. "Uncle Verde rerouted the house's geothermal core. Papa said it was romantic. Dad said it violated several safety codes."
He blinked innocently. "We rotate which wing we destroy each week. It's kind of like scheduled chaos. Papa says it keeps the mansion from falling into a routine."
Dead silence.
Finally, Draken leaned forward slowly, mouth still partially open.
"Takemitchy," he said carefully, "that... that doesn't sound normal."
Takemichi paused, blinking slowly. He frowned, genuinely thinking about it for the first time. "I mean… I guess I always knew it wasn't normal normal." He scratched his cheek, sheepish. "But it's just… family. You know?"
"No," said Draken.
"Absolutely not," said Mikey, before squinting and blurting out, "Wait—you live in a mansion?!"
Shinichiro exhaled a slow, long-suffering sigh and facepalmed hard enough to echo.
Takemichi tilted his head, genuinely confused, before turning to Mikey. "Doesn't your grandpa lock you in the dojo if you mess up or something?"
"That's just discipline," Mikey replied. "Your family sounds like a sitcom where someone dies once a season."
Shinichiro coughed, trying to cover a laugh. "Your dad must be a patient man."
"Oh, he is," Takemichi said brightly. "That's why he's the one in charge. Papa just gets bored if things are too peaceful."
Shinichiro mutters. "I'm starting to understand why you wanted to live on your own."