Takemichi exhaled shakily as he stared at his phone like it was a loaded gun. However, when Kusakabe gave him a last encouraging nod, then stood to give him space, stepping quietly into the kitchen. With a last sigh, Takemichi flipped open the device and pressed the speed dial.
One ring. Two. Three.
The line clicked.
And then, that warm, familiar voice—soft as ever, but weighed down with something heavy. "Takemichi."
Just his name. No scolding. No anger. Just… concern.
"I'm sorry," Takemichi blurted immediately, guilt already thick in his throat. "I meant to call, I really did, but everything happened so fast, and there were sirens and police and I—"
Tsuna's voice cut gently through the babble. "I saw a photo."
Takemichi froze.
"You were getting into an ambulance," Tsuna said quietly. "A street cam caught it and my men send it to me. It took hours to confirm it wasn't your blood, the one on the ground."
His voice didn't shake, but Takemichi could hear the ache underneath.
"I waited for your call," Tsuna added, softer now. "And it didn't come."
Takemichi bit his lip, his throat tightening. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm really sorry."
Tears welled up, quiet and unforced. He wiped them away quickly, even if his Dad couldn't see him. Tsuna exhaled, slow and steady. "I'll be receiving Kusakabe's report soon, so you don't have to explain the logistics right now."
There was a pause. "I just want to know—are you okay?"
Takemichi nodded before realizing his father couldn't see that.
"I'm okay," he whispered. "Shaken. But okay."
"…And why did you do it?"
Takemichi hesitated. He could've said it was instinct. Could've said he didn't think. That he panicked. But none of those things were true. So instead, he said simply, timidly, "Is my Hyper Intuition enough of an answer?"
Tsuna went quiet on the other end. Then, quietly: "Yeah, it is. I get it."
There was a breath of silence—long, comfortable. Then Tsuna asked, gently, "Do you think this Shinichiro… will be one of your guardians?"
Takemichi leaned back against the wall, letting his eyes drift upward.
"I don't know," he said honestly. "Maybe. He's... kind. And he saw right through me. But more than that, I think—he's someone important. Not just to me."
"Hmm," Tsuna hummed in thought. "Sometimes those are the ones who end up staying the longest."
Takemichi smiled faintly. "Maybe."
"And his siblings?" Tsuna asked, his voice lifting ever so slightly.
"Oh, they're..." Takemichi's voice warmed. "Emma's sweet. A little shy, but really brave. Mikey's—he's loud and dramatic and kind of a menace. He named himself 'The Great Mickey' in my contacts."
Tsuna chuckled on the other end.
"And Draken's this giant guy who looks terrifying but bought me tea and apologized for Mikey's entire existence with his eyes only."
"I like him already," Tsuna said dryly.
"I think I'm making friends," Takemichi admitted, wiping at his face again, though he was smiling now. "Real ones. Even if they don't know who I am."
Tsuna was silent for a moment, but Takemichi could feel the warmth through the line.
"I'm proud of you," Tsuna said softly. "Even if you forgot to call."
Takemichi let out a soft laugh. "You're not gonna ground me?"
"No," Tsuna said, then added with a hint of amusement, "but your papa is making a list."
"Oh no."
"And you're at the top of it."
Takemichi groaned, but it was a good sound—relief, affection, comfort.
"...Thanks for picking up," he whispered.
Tsuna smiled through the line. "Always."
There was another pause. Gentle. Familiar. The kind that only existed between two people who had shared a hundred late-night talks just like this one—sometimes across a table, sometimes across continents.
Takemichi's thumb brushed the edge of the phone. "Dad… can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"I made a promise," he said, quieter now. "To Shinichiro-san. He asked me not to pull his siblings into… into the world I come from. Into us."
He exhaled shakily, pressing his back against the wall. "And I agreed. I said I wouldn't bring them into it. That I wouldn't let them get too close."
Tsuna didn't respond right away so Takemichi kept going. "I meant it. I do mean it. I promised. And it feels right—keeping them safe, I mean. Especially after everything I've seen… everything you and Papa went through. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "But I already messed up. I've already let them get close. And I think… I think I want to be around them anyway."
That confession hit heavier than he expected. He wasn't asking for advice, not really. He just wanted to say it out loud. And he knew—hoped—that Tsuna, of all people, would understand.
The silence stretched—but it never felt cold.
When Tsuna finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Steady. Full of something older than just fatherly instinct.
"I think you're doing the right thing," he said simply. "Making your own promise. Choosing your own lines. Just make sure they're your own."
Takemichi blinked, caught off guard.
Tsuna continued, "I spent half my life getting swept up in the choices of others. First Reborn's. Then the Ninth's. Then the Vongola's. It took me years to realize that just because I was handed a legacy didn't mean I couldn't shape it."
There was a beat.
"And you're already ahead of me in that way."
Takemichi's throat tightened again.
"I said it before, but I'm really proud of you," Tsuna repeated gently. "Not for following our rules. But for setting your own."
Takemichi bit his lip. "Even if I… mess it up sometimes?"
"You will." Tsuna said it without hesitation. "That's not a threat. That's just life. But listen to me, okay?"
Takemichi straightened a little instinctively.
"You've got my genes," Tsuna said dryly. "Which means you panic easily, second-guess yourself, and cry when you get overwhelmed."
"Wow, thanks," Takemichi mumbled, half-laughing through his nose.
"But," Tsuna added firmly, "you also have his genes."
Takemichi went still as Tsuna's voice was softer now, but no less certain. "You've got Reborn's determination. His sharp instincts. His terrifying ability to look someone twice his size in the eye and make them blink first."
Takemichi swallowed hard.
"You're not just one thing, 'Michi," Tsuna said. "You never were. You don't have to be soft or strong. Passive or assertive. You can cry, and get scared, and still choose to stand your ground. That's not a contradiction. That's who you are."
Takemichi closed his eyes, letting the words settle in his chest like warmth.
"I just…" he said softly. "I don't want to disappoint you."
"You won't," Tsuna replied, no hesitation. "You can't."
"But if I do end up close to them—Mikey, Emma, Draken—I'll try to do it right. I'll try to keep that part of me… separate."
Tsuna sighed, but it was a small, accepting sound. "I trust you. I trust your instincts."
"You do?"
"Of course."
Then, after a pause: "Just don't let Mikey name your next contact. The Great Mikey? Really?"
Takemichi let out a laugh he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. "I was emotionally compromised."
"You're always emotionally compromised."
"That's not fair!"
Tsuna chuckled, gentle and teasing. "Then be less like me and more like your papa."
"Dad," he said, scandalized.
"Just a little," Tsuna amended quickly. "Don't go full Reborn. We already have one."
Takemichi laughed again, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his uniform. "...Thanks, Dad."
"Anytime."
"Even if I forget to call again?"
Tsuna sighed in mock exasperation. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
Takemichi smiled, the kind that ached a little but felt good all the same. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Michi. And… welcome home."
The line clicked off.
Takemichi lowered the phone slowly and stared at the blank screen for a moment. Then he whispered to no one with a smile, "I'll try to do it right."
He was still smiling faintly at his phone when it buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another incoming call: 'Papà'.
Takemichi blinked.
"…Huh?" he muttered, squinting like the phone might be playing a prank. "I thought you were on a mission, Papa."
He answered anyway, lifting it to his ear.
The voice that answered was sharp, cool, and unmistakably smug. "Don't listen to Tsuna."
Takemichi blinked again. "What—"
"He's right that you take after him," Reborn continued smoothly, not bothering with greetings. "You're soft. Thoughtful. You cry when you're worried and apologize even when you're right."
Takemichi opened his mouth to protest—but didn't. Because, yeah. That was...fair.
"But he's wrong about himself," Reborn went on, his tone dipping into something rare—something that sounded suspiciously like affection. "He's wimpy, sure. Overthinks everything. Talks to his coffee like it's going to betray him. But he's also gentle. Kind. Brave. Strong in all the ways that matter."
Takemichi listened in stunned silence as Reborn, of all people, complimented Tsuna with genuine warmth.
"He's worth following," Reborn said simply. "He makes people want to follow. Even people like me. Even the people who wanted to kill him."
A pause. Then, quieter, "Just like you."
Takemichi swallowed hard. "Papà…"
"You see the best in people. That's not weakness, no matter what anyone tells you," Reborn said. "But you're always so busy believing in others, you forget to believe in yourself. Just like him."
Takemichi bit his lip, the words sticking in his throat.
"You're smart. Good. And you've got instincts better than half the Family's veterans." Then—with a sharp edge: "You don't need anyone's permission. Not Shinichiro's. Not anyone's."
The words hit like a jolt—sharp and clean and undeniable.
"You're a Vongola," Reborn said, voice smooth as steel. "No one gives you orders unless you let them."
Takemichi sucked in a breath. His hands trembled slightly, just around the knuckles. He didn't want power. He never had. But choice?
That mattered.
Reborn must've heard the silence shift on the other end, because his tone softened slightly. "But you don't have to decide anything now."
Takemichi exhaled, slowly. Relief loosened the tightness in his chest.
"You'll figure it out," Reborn said simply. "You always do."
Takemichi smiled again—smaller this time, but real. "Thanks, Papà. That means a lot."
There was a pause. Then he squinted suspiciously at the phone. "…You were listening in on Dad's phone calls again, weren't you?"
A short tsk crackled through the line as Reborn didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Stay sharp. And eat something green. Not just noodles."
"And?" Takemichi prompted, amused now.
"I'm on a mission," Reborn replied smoothly. "Try not to attract any new gangs while I'm gone."
Click.
The call ended.
Takemichi lowered the phone and shook his head, exasperated—but still smiling.
"Love you too," he mumbled to no one.
Then, quieter, almost to himself, "…I'll figure it out."