#but it was that or let gladio kill reborn out of RAGE

[secret-engima]

Please consider, FnF Gladio meeting Reborn post lung-incident. Please, consider.

Ohhhh. Oh boy. OH BOY. Ummm I’m assuming you don’t mean Reborn as a reincarnation because he’s not gonna show up in Fangs and Feathers but hypothetically Imma bout to do a ficlet so buckle up-

Hypothetically Gladio is an adult, a Shield and a brother to Noctis, loyal and protective and FIERCE. Who trained himself to the ground, then pestered Cor for more because he was NEVER failing Noctis again, not in anyway. A Gladio who, when he was eighteen and finally had a motorcycle of his own, ran away to fight Gilgamesh and by the time Xanxus and Cor had busted their way through, found him bloody and tired and TRIUMPHANT, scarred and defiant and VICTORIOUS as Gilgamesh laughed, hollow and inhuman in his shell and presented Gladio with the sword Cor had lost when he tried the same at fifteen.

Hypothetically this Gladio is now 25 and strong and SKILLED, skilled enough to win against the famed, immortal Blademaster at 18, skilled enough to protect his king (he hopes, he prays, he trains because he is never going to fail this duty again, not in any way).

Hypothetically this Gladio has known for years that Noctis is a reincarnation, and that his original name was Tsunayoshi Sawada.

Hypothetically this Gladio, one day, sees his king stumble over air and catches him instinctively, and in the touch is pulled along as he falls through into another world. A parallel version of his past life. And while Noctis looks at the small town around them and pales, pulls his magic in until it’s totally hidden as if AFRAID, Gladio becomes angry. At the strange trip into another world, at Noctis’s reaction. At his FEAR.

They wander town, looking for a way back, and then Gladio hears a louder, more frightened version of the soft “hieeee” Noctis used to say as a child when startled, followed by a smooth, male voice that says, “A mafia boss doesn’t give up, Dame-Tsuna. Get up and do it again.”

Gladio sees Noctis flinch deep and visceral because even if Noctis had loved his tutor for freeing him, for teaching him (for eventually being ... not a father, but the only thing like it Tsuna had, after Reborn realized why Tsuna was so “hopeless” and actually apologized for all the terror he’d put Tsuna through, even if he never completely changed his methods), that is not the voice of his Reborn. For one, that was a man’s voice, not a cursed baby’s, which means things are already wildly different in this world. For another ... that was not the voice of the Reborn who had stood at his side until the end of his life, the one who had retired only when his head of hair was pure silver and his hands slightly shaky from arthritis. The voice that said “Dame-Tsuna” the same way others said “Son”.

This was the voice of Reborn before he cared. Hard and businesslike, borderline cruel as he forced his student to get up and try it again, to do it right this time or else risk being shot, who had forgotten what kindness was and indulged in pranks against the people who should have been in his care without a thought. This was a Reborn who had never been humbled, never seen his “helpless student” stand up to the one thing Reborn was terrified most of and say “No. You Can’t Have Him.”

Noctis does not want to see this Reborn. Doesn’t want to be anywhere near him.

Gladio sees the flinch, the expression of conflicted misery and fear and love and ... puts it together. Puts together the stories Noctis told him as they grew up and grew closer. Of his teacher who he loved, but who he had feared for years because of his too hard methods. Of being fourteen and shot again and again until he lost his ability to flinch at the sound of gunfire. Of being fourteen and forced to crawl to his feet and keep going even when his mouth tasted like copper and it hurt to breathe because Reborn wasn’t satisfied so Do It Again.

Gladio’s sword is out and he’s going for Reborn’s head before he can realize he’s moving.

Reborn, this one younger, this one not a cursed baby, this one who’s title of Arcobaleno is just a fancy label that marks him as one of the Mafia’s Best rather than someone who must carry a cursed artifact, barely ducks in time to avoid being beheaded. His retaliatory gunfire is swatted aside with obvious and open contempt, the sword slashing through sun-enhanced bullets like they were butter and not things powerful enough to rip through tanks. His student screams in fear and Reborn assumes the swordsman is an assassin come for the Vongola Heir, so he tries to lead the man farther away (not too far, in case the man had backup waiting for Reborn to be busy) from his useless student. The man follows easily, something hard and venomous in his gaze and Reborn inwardly scoffs because ah, the employer picked someone with a grudge against Reborn. How quaint.

It stops being quaint when the man launches on the offensive again and Reborn finds himself overwhelmed. Any attack is dodged or swatted aside like a fly, any feint is seen through and matched, the blade moves effortlessly in the man’s hands (Cloud? The sword looks heavy but he handles it like a paperweight), slicing through trees like frost, the shockwaves nearly sending Reborn flying the first time before he compensated. He catches a glint of Red flowing up the blade right before another unnaturally sharp and fast strike and realizes he’s up against a very strong Storm that is COMPLETELY ignoring Tsuna in favor of trying to take off Reborn’s HEAD.

Lovely. Just what he needed. Normally he would delight in this kind of thing, a nice break from trying to get train a useless civilian boy into a half-decent Mafia Boss.

But normally Reborn wouldn’t be giving ground and increasingly alarmed and afraid for his own life. The man just won’t STOP and none of Reborn’s tricks or tactics are working. Not diversions, not a flashbang shot to blind, nothing. He just keeps coming with a snarl on his face and speed that a Storm really shouldn’t have (the man fights like a Cloud, all unfair tanking and speed and power, but he is clearly a Storm in temper, in the red on his blade when his strikes split and devour the earth milliseconds after Reborn dodges.

Normally, Reborn would not be so hard pressed as to MISS the hunched figure that steals over to his student and starts gently talking to him before pressing a hand against the boy’s stomach.

The sudden EXPLOSION of Sky Flames, rippling out over the training ground, the park, the town, heck, probably the entire REGION definitely reclaims Reborn’s attention. His head snaps around to see, has a moment to be stunned by the sight of his student, his Weak Sky, Lazy Sky, Civilian Boy, wreathed in pure, pure amber Flames that make Luce’s look like guttering embers-

“Gladio, stop.” Says the stranger next to his student, eyes flashing from blue to bright red and Reborn feels steel stop just touching his neck, feels the wind of the halted blow send his hat flying, and pales. He’s slipped up for just a moment-

And if that stranger hadn’t spoken, that moment would have cost Reborn his life.

“He’s Reborn,” snarls the Storm, thick and furious and hateful.

“I know,” says the other man, “That’s why I want you to stop.”

The Storm growls feral and angry, pulls his sword away from Reborn’s neck, still ready to defend if Reborn tries to fight again, “He doesn’t deserve it. Any of it,” he spits and Reborn has the distinct impression he is missing something, because this ... doesn’t feel like disgruntled hitmen that want his fame and title.

The stranger near Reborn’s still wreathed-in-flame-student sounds ... sad. Nostalgic, is watching him with eyes that seem to see right through him and into his quietest, deepest parts, “I know,” the man repeats as he calmly helps Reborn’s student stand, “but I can’t help it.” A pause, a flicker of buried, ancient fury and hurt and suddenly the man is right next to the Storm in a flicker of sparks (Mist then? He doesn’t feel like a Mist). Reborn steps cautiously back, opens his mouth to demand answers (who were they, who did they work for, what had they just done to his student to make him for from a guttering Flame to a Sky Flame Reborn is almost getting FLAME DRUNK on right this minute).

He doesn’t see the man move. Just feels a touch on his stomach with gentle fingers.

The world goes grey. Grey and cold and deaf and dumb and blind and the world is spinning and he can’t get his feet under him, can’t keep them under him because he has no ANCHOR to the world, like its all just mist around his ankles. He drops his gun, falls over trying to get it back, curses as he stumbles to his knees because nothing is WORKING and he can’t THINK and what did they do? WHAT DID THEY DO? His Sun Flames are gone-gone-gone and he’s shaking and there is fog in his head and-

“Get up, Dame-Tsuna,” says the stranger softly, “a Mafia Boss doesn’t trip over his own two feet. Get up and do it again.” And it sounds like a quote. It is a quote. It’s him.

Reborn hisses a curse but STILL can't get his gun to stay in his hand long enough for a shot (he’s so cold so cold so cold)

“Stop it! Stop it!” Amber, burning and searing hot, curling around him as his student- as TSUNA leaps in the way, grabs the Mist’s (?) arm and pleads, “Don’t do it to him! He doesn’t deserve it, no one does! No one deserves that! Please!”

The man gently ruffles Tsuna’s hair, “You’re right. No one deserves it. It’s only temporary. It will wear off in just a few more seconds. I just ... wanted him to understand what it was like-”

Something inside Reborn shatters and his Sun Flames rush back, the world rushes back, sound and color, touch and taste and stability, the world stops sliding away from him and the fog clears just in time for him to hear-, “to be a completely Sealed Flame.”

Reborn lunges to his feet again, gun in a shaking but firm hand, mind whirling- “There was a seal on my student,” he hisses. Then he blanches, because this man just- that feeling had been- all this time his student-.

The stranger with the blue eyes shrugs, “Yes,” he says simply. “I removed it. Gladio, come on. I think our ride is here.”

The Storm scoffs but starts following the man away. Reborn takes a step after them, freezes when the sword comes to bear at his neck again, “Who are you?” he hisses, humiliated and humbled and wary for the first time in over a decade, “How did you know all this? What Famiglia are you sworn to?”

The Storm snorts and pulls his blade away, the other man pauses, sighs.

Unfurls his Flame like the rising of the dawn. It stretches and curls, strange and oddly crystalline, forming little shards of amber and blue diamonds in the air, but it’s powerful, it blankets the area, tangling and clicking effortlessly with Tsunayoshi’s almost like-

Almost like they were-

No.

No that was impossible.

Blue eyes are now amber gold as he smiles sadly, “Just a Sky who saw your student and knew what was really wrong.”

“I want your name,” Reborn rasps past the heady feeling of being surrounded by two Sky Flames (identical Sky Flames) that made Luce the Arcobaleno Sky look like a mere spark of fire.

A blink, a near mischievous (tired, bitter, nostalgic, conflicted) look, “We both know you already know my name, Reborn.” He turns away again, one hand tangling with the fingers of his Storm to keep the bear of a man from attacking Reborn again and somehow Reborn knows that there is nothing he can do to stop them from walking away.

Just as they reach the borders of the park and start to round the bend, the Sky lifts a hand in a lazy wave and a flippant, “Chaos, Reborn!” Then they’re around the bend and the crystalline Sky Flame is gone. Vanished from the air like it had never been.

Reborn stares, processing and staggering under the weight of ... everything that just happened. Looks down at his shivering student who leaped to his defense (poor defense, begging defense but still DEFENSE) even though Reborn has done nothing to win any sort of favor.

Even though he’s been pushing a Sky child past the breaking point without even noticing that the boy was sealed and not just weak from inexperience.

He needs a drink.

But first ... “I think that’s enough for today d-. Tsuna. Let’s take you home.”

Ask me in the next life, whispers in his ear over his whiskey late that night.

We both know you already know my name.

He’s Reborn

I know, that’s why I want you to stop.

He doesn’t deserve it. Any of it.

I know, but I can’t help it.

Ask me in the next life.

We both know you already know my name.

Reborn mutters a curse as he slugs back his drink. Buries the knowledge that just tried to behead him with a sword for another day. Or never. Preferably never. He has a training regime to drastically rewrite. And .... possibly. MAYBE. An apology to make to his student in the morning.

...

“You didn’t have to try to kill him, you know.” Noctis murmurs as they lounge in the sunshine of the Citadel garden. Safely returned to their home dimension with a little help from Umbra and Gentiana.

Gladio tightens his arms around his king, letting the smaller man sit in his lap like the cuddly cat his king-brother secretly is, “He deserves it. He hurt you. He hurt you so badly you’re still messed up in an entirely different lifetime.” He made you afraid of me. Even more than I had made you afraid of me. Gladio doesn’t say.

Noctis just sighs like he already knows, then murmurs, “At least I got the Seal off. I always wanted someone to come take the Seal off. Even before I knew what it was.”

Gladio growls and lets the matter slide.

But if they ever wind up back in that dimension, Gladio is going to track down Reborn and kick his tail again. Not kill him, that would upset his king-brother, but smack him around?

Yeah. That sounded good.

[cupnoodle-queen]

CHASING SUNS: Chapter 20 Madness

2,098 words

I’ll admit, I had a lot of difficulties writing this chapter. I think it’s because I’m nearing the END OMFG, so I really want to bring you perfection. I’m such a critical nutjob with my work as well, so I’ll admit to having deleted and re-written a LOT of this chapter. BUT ONE. CHAPTER. LEFT. before the Epilogue guys!!

Tagging my baes: @nifwrites, @themissimmortal, @blindbae

The drive was long and winded up and around into the northern reaches behind Hunter HQ, the incline making for an uncomfortable ride in the armored truck. Cam, Gladio, Ignis, Prompto, Greyson and the veteran hunter named Reese, sat in the back cab of the truck while Cor rode up front with the driver. The group in the back kept quiet, the absolute uncertainty of the situation leaving little room for idle chatter. Even Greyson, who usually found opportunity to speak his mind at even the worst of times was keeping to himself, staring at his boots like the rest of them. 

Except Cam. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Gladio, sitting across from her with his elbows on his thighs and a tired look of defeat already hardening the edge of his brow. It bothered her, not because it seemed like he was being cynical before they even got to kill anything, but because she could feel what he felt; the frustration at not knowing what they were up against, the self-conscious notion that he may not be strong enough for what lie ahead, that he may let his friends and comrades down, that he may let her down...the fear of how abruptly she became everything to him. The fear of losing her... He didn’t shy away from it, though being bound to someone took some getting used to.

The truck pulled onto level ground, slowed and came to a stop. They rose to their feet and a moment later Cor had hoisted the door hatch up and was there to greet them with a frown, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sheathed katana. “Are you ready for this?”

Six heads nodded in unison; The Marshal scowled, an almost angry wash over his face. “Give me your word, or give me nothing at all.”

“Ready,” They bellowed, and with that Cor stepped aside to let the hunters hop out.

Cam had to look around to spot it, as a narrow thicket of trees stood before them and nothing more, but she could see the very tip of it peeking over the peaks of the treetops; a sharp black pinnacle against the sickly muddled greenish-pitch that was the everlasting darkness. Her insides were jarring.

The Marshal lead the way down a freshly beaten path. Off to the side Dino was stationed already in the back of a supply van, the rear doors swung open and awaiting patients. With impeccable timing a hunter hobbled out of the woods, clutching his hand over his ear though it did little to stop the flow of blood that seeped between his fingers. Dino came alive, tossing his magazine to the side and yanking out some gauze and iodine. “Jaysus, Fin! I oughta give’ya a punch card, seventh injury is free!”

The frontline single-filed their way through the woods, Cam following Ignis and Gladio close behind. The sounds of combat could be heard in the distance, death cries of daemons and sprites of the night, weapons clanking against enameled exoskeletons and men, the sound of men, frantic and shouting and pained…

Cam swallowed hard. Did they assign enough people to their group? There was so much chaos in the mix that it sounded like an army of death spawns were awaiting their arrival. She looked back over her shoulder to Gladio. “You got my back?”

His shoulders steeled, tenacity in his expression but with a softness he’d only allowed her to see. “Always.”

“Same.” 

The treeline was thinning and Cam could begin to make out the combat up ahead, metal blades glinting against the light from a sole battery-operated spotlight near the trail edge, erratic movements of limbs and bodies in fatal dances of destruction. But as they exited the forest and into the wide clearing to join the lunacy, Cam stopped cold.

Looming over the scene before them sat what could only be the nest. A mammoth construct so black and dark it seemed to swallow the little light around them, so impressive in stature Cam had to crane her neck back a bit to see the peak. It leeched such thick foreboding and despair, a tangible miasma, a malevolent aura radiating from its outer walls. Above all what was most notable was the spike in temperature; an almost humid, blazing heat wave fanned from the pyramid shaped structure and washed over them and already Cam could feel it get to her. It was like the power plant all over again.

And then from a gaping maw in the side of it, three necromancers shot into the fray. 

The hunters currently locked in battle could find no suitable safe escape, and so the Marshal raised his hand to give the order. He offered a moment of respite, the only one they know they’d find for a long time coming, and then -

“Attack!”

Like flipping a switch the group came to life, moving off in their own directions yet sharing an invisible link, always keen to the other’s positions, always steadfast in their guard. Cam unholstered her pistols, flicked the safeties off and unloaded her clips into the nearest thing that wasn’t human. Prompto flanked her, firing exactly in between her shots so the enemy was gifted with nearly automatic fire. And just as Cam’s clips were empty, Prompto flung two fresh ones her way; she jammed them into the chambers, rinse and repeat. 

Out of the corner of her eye Greyson was dealing blow after blow cleaving through the swarms of daemons, his massive battleaxe like a pendulum of death as it swept them off their feet and made them flinch. Cor was right there to deal the fatalities one after the other, eliminating a handful of them in seconds flat. Unfortunately as soon as they finished them off more were waiting in the wings to pick up where they left off.

Most surprising of all was Ignis. His complete lack of vision didn’t render him a sitting duck; the tactician moved with remarkable, lethal grace despite dealing with his own darkness, each swipe of his daggers hitting paydirt and flaying the skin of his foes. Once he’d swapped out for a polearm to help vanquish a small naga hatchling, though small in this case meant still towering over them, but his lance made quick work of eviscerating the serpentine creature in minutes flat. And once the foe was felled, Ignis adjusted his tinted lenses as if only the wind had knocked them off-center.

And right on que, there he was. Gladio slammed into a hoard of bashuras like a freight train, overhead cleaves of his great sword coming down and obliterating their skulls while his sideways slashes nearly decapitated the ones who survived the first hit. He was easily the messiest of the bunch as well, his armor slick with daemon blood, droplets peppering his skin like freckles-

“Hey, earth to Cam,” Prompto called, body-checking her back into the moment as a hurdle of imps tag-teamed the pair of sharpshooters. She readied to fire at them once more, but something demanded her attention from her peripherals. She backed away from the enemies, drawing them away from Prompto whilst trying to get a better view of the reason for her distraction.

Red. in a sea of darkness, death and dissolution, a swatch of red mane that whipped wildly in the heatwave emanating from the nest.

All too familiar red.

Cam’s vision blurred for a fraction of a second, pure rage welling in her mouth like a venom as something began to snap into place at the base of her brain stem. She had to deal with the problems at hand first, the imps ripe to overwhelm Prompto at any given moment and so she slid on her hip against the ground, nailing each one with an expertly-placed head shot. They toppled over like dominoes, one right after the other. “Hell yeah!” Prompto marveled, reloading his clip and sidestepping near Greyson to cover his blind spot.

Unfortunately Cam lost sight of the redhead. She exhaled returning to the onslaught of daemons, their numbers only increasing to the point Cam need only shoot into the open to be guaranteed a hit without even aiming. They were vastly outnumbered. They needed more force...

Another sharp snap that locked in right below the first, above the first vertebrae in her neck like a capsule breaking and leaking a substance into her bloodstream. Again her vision blurred, the faintest tint of red near the edges of her field of vision like an aura. In the surrounding brawl and discord, Cam’s focus homed in on a necromancer several yards away, reeling back to deliver a petrification spell, it’s target: Ignis.

Cam sprang into action, her guns at the ready and firing on all cylinders as she sprinted towards the daemon. Each bullet hit its mark, but it wasn’t enough to interrupt it’s spell casting. FUCK-

And then it happened. Like live wire threading through the very marrow of her bones, pulsating through to her muscle memory, jump starting it back to life...it returned. The will to fight, the undiluted adrenaline.

The power.

In a singular motion, Cam slammed the pistols back into their holsters, grit her teeth and reached above her head behind her back, unsheathing her swords. 

Reborn.

An earth shattering war cry erupted from Cam’s lungs as she rushed the necromancer, seconds from letting the spell off towards the blind man. She may not make it- “IGNIS!” Cam cried. “DOWN!” 

Without hesitation, Ignis dashed to the side and ducked just about out of the daemon’s line of sight. It wouldn’t matter, though; Cam’s blades came to life, her arms buffeting like a propeller as she struck the enemy and it flinched, just in time to send the spell skywards and into the black. She reeled back and swiped, slashed, carving into the daemon with each blow ripping life from its form. It didn’t stand a chance; seconds later the necromancer all but disintegrated into a musty powder, blown to the wind without a trace.

Gladio caught sight of her and couldn’t help but give her a massive grin. “Atta girl,” he hollered over the tin of shouting and animalistic daemon cries.

Back in her element and completely berserk, Cam let her instincts take over as she hammered into daemon after daemon, their blood coating her blades and armor in a dark sheen, the sour tang of it all her new perfume. It matted in her hair and soaked into her pores but she didn’t care; she was high on the endorphins, tapping the soul of a warrior, the soul of a fighter. It fused immaculately to her own, not completely rewriting her makeup but making her better. 

Gladio’s soul. Her soul.

One.

She eliminated numerous foes and was midway through another when Cor spoke over the pandemonium surrounding them. “Pull back! Regroup!”

Cam set out to do just that, dealing a deathblow to another baby naga when suddenly…

To her left, the veteran hunter Reese was standing still as if he were being restrained. He struggled against an invisible tether, his arms unable to lift from their sides. Before he could speak, a massive purple fireball collided with his chest and he dropped to the earth, unconscious.

Cam rushed to his aid, sliding on her knees at his limp form. She flipped him over but his skin was scorching, like touching a hot burner on the stove. She eased him onto his back using her elbows...and immediately wished she hadn’t.

His eyes were melting out of their sockets, white streams down bloodless cheeks, undoubtedly dead.

Cam flinched and stood too quickly, not taking note of her surroundings.

Steph was standing before her, face void of any emotion. She carried no weapons, nothing, and yet-

Cam was frozen in place, unable to move her limbs.

Oh no, OH NO...

Attempting to call out to the others she tried to yell but no sound came out, only air.

The faintest smirk pulled at the corners of Steph’s crimson lips. “Cat got your tongue?” she mused.

And then Cam was being pulled towards the pyramid, towards the damnable entrance, the gaping maw like a doorway to Hell. the air was so hot against her skin it felt like an open flame.

Cam had no control of her actions, numb and helpless under Steph’s spell. All she could do was watch helplessly as her friends fought for their lives against unmatched quantities of daemons…

...And Gladio, sprinting towards the nest and screaming her name, just as the maw began to close behind them.