Title: Little Soldier Boy Marching On

Definition: No one ever cared before; they wanted him to die for them, they wanted him to save them. They wanted their perfect little soldier boy to go marching to his death. "Skull, we will not do that to you." "Promise?" "Promise."

Word Count: 1,447

Warnings: bit of Skull/Fon at the end, Wizarding World bashing, mentions of Dumbledore bashing, kind of OOC (they're drunk, what can you do?)


"Leaves from the vine, falling so slow.
Like fragile, tiny shells,
Drifting in the foam.
Little soldier boy, come marching home.
Brave soldier boy, comes marching home."

- Little Soldier Boy


Skull stared despondently as the amber liquid in his glass, swirling it absentmindedly as he listened to the conversations of the other Arcobaleno around him. Four months after the Curse of the Arcobaleno had been lifted, and Skull's initial excitement had melted into apprehensiveness.

He couldn't help but feel that something was going to happen.

"-ull what about you -kora?"

Skull was pulled from his thoughts to find the others staring at him, big violet eyes blinked in confusion. "Wha-?"

Colonello frowned in annoyance, "How old were you when you were cursed?" He repeated, "I was twenty-three, so was Viper. Fon was twenty-two, Lal was twenty-five, Reborn was twenty-seven, and Verde was thirty. What about you?"

Skull blinked sluggishly and he processed the statement -huh, maybe the alchohol was affecting him more than he thought- "Eighteen." He slurred, "'m was eighteen. Almost nineteen, though." He giggled slightly at the stunned looks on his fellow Arcobalenos' faces, a drunken smirk spreading across his face and he lifted his glass mockingly. "You've been serving beer to a minor." His brows furrowed slightly as he considered that statement. "Am I still a minor? I have been alive for forty-eight years... but I 'ave th' body of a eighteen-year-old..." He trailed off, before taking a large gulp of beer. "Huh, food for thought, no?... Damn this stuff is strong! That or 'm a lightweight..."

Fon reached over and gently plucked the glass from the teenager's (because holy crap, Skull was still a teenager, still a child) hands. "I think you've had enough, Skull."

"Nuuu!" Skull whined, reaching for the glass as Fon moved it even further from the younger man's reach. Skull shot the Chinese man a pout.

"You were eighteen?" Lal echoed, "You were still a kid!"

"I never got the chance to be a kid." Skull grumbled, eyes still locked on the glass in Fon's hand.

Reborn raised an eyebrow, "Oh my, what would your parents think?" The hitman teased.

"Well, I wouldn't know!" Skull snapped testily. "My parents were murdered when I was a baby."

"What?" Colonello demanded, his eyes surprisingly sharp as he studied the younger man's body language.

Skull sniffed, "I'm not drunk enough for this. Oi, Bar Tender! Another glass!" The moment the glass of beer was in his hands he continued, "My parents were murdered when I was a year old. After I was dumped, illegally mind you, on my aunt's doorstep." He took a large swig of beer. "Dear Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon made sure I never got a proper childhood. Locked me in a cupboard for the first eleven years of m'life. Treated m'like a slave. The Dursleys hated me, made sure I knew it too." His eyes were glassy and his face flushed as he stared into the liquid, violet eyes blinking despondently before turning to meet Fon's gaze. "Did'ya mean it? When you said you cared 'bout me?"

Fon looked slightly puzzled as he shared a look with the other Arcobaleno, "Well, yes."

Skull hummed, "No one ever cared b'fore..." A bitter smile stretched across his face, "I thought m' friends did, but they were liars an' thieves. Dumbledore paid 'em to spy on me. Used th' money from m'own vaults too. They wanted me to die for 'em, set me up as a lamb for th' crazy who killed m'parents. The man I looked up'ta made me a soldier in his st'pid game; 'm was eleven when I first killed a man for 'im. Fourteen when 'e forced m'onto the front lines, seventeen when 'e sent m'to m'death." Skull's smile dropped into a frosty glare, "Fools. Death hates me. Wouldn't let m'die, even if I tried. When I s'vived, they made plans t'kill me 'emselves. I was t'marry Ginny, get 'er knocked up, then they'd kill me off ta get full excess t'my vaults." He took another large gulp of alcohol, "Idiots n'ver realized 'm liked dudes. Wouldn't 'ave married tha' crazy fangirl even if they forced m'to." He was definitely wasted, Skull would be feeling the hangover in the morning. "They tried t'force me. I ran away. Took all m'money and bolted. Outta England, came t'Italy. Changed m'name, got inta th' stunt business. Couldn't die 'nyways, might as well have a lil'fun. Almost a year later 'nd Luche called m'up, offered me a job, 'nd poof, 'ere I am." He slurred, looking at the horrified and angry looks on his companions' faces. "St'pid Dumbledore, made me inta his perfec' lil' soldier boy..."

"Skull..." Fon said gently, placing a hand on top of the younger man's own hand, which was clenched so tightly around his beer that his knuckles had been bleached white. "We will not do that to you."

The violet-haired Arcobaleno stared at the Storm from under thick dark lashes, "Promise?" He sounded so young, so scared as he said that, that Fon pulled him into a one-armed hug.

"Promise."

A small smile spread across Skull's face, and then suddenly he was leaning forward, violet eyes half-lidded, and his lips pressed against Fon's in a soft kiss.

Their group froze, Colonello's glass broke, Reborn choked on his rum, and Lal choked. Fon had gone completely rigid, brown eyes blown wide with shock as his face steadily turned red.

As sudden as it happened, it ended; Skull pulled away, his eyes peering into Fon's from under messy bangs. There was a moment when nothing moved, before Skull lurched away violently, tumbling to the ground with a gagging noise and he promptly vomited.

"Urg..." Skull groaned weakly, "Shouldn't've drank so much. Gonna feel this in th' morning..."

He then proceeded to topple to the ground, completely unconscious.

Reborn coughed, trying to get the burning alcohol out of his windpipes. "Idiot."

"Lightweight." Verde grumbled into his own beer, barely looking up from his research.

"Didn't see that coming." Viper looked from Skull, who was sprawled on the ground in a snoring heap, to Fon, who sat motionless in his seat, face burning with a violent blush.

"Oi, Fon! You alright -kora?" Colonello poked the unresponsive Fon's cheek, "I think Skull may have killed him -kora."

Lal snorted, placing her glass on the bar. "Doubt it... Come on, let's get the lover boys out of here." She said, as she bent down and gathered Sull's surprisingly light form into her arms.

Colonello readily agreed, tugging a still stunned Fon into motion, dropping the required money on the tabletop before following Lal out the door.

The moment the door swung shut behind them, Reborn dropped his glass onto the table, coal eyes smoldering. "Verde, Viper," The two other Arcobaleno looked up from what they were doing. "I want you to find everything you can on Petunia and Vernon Dursley."

"Got it." Verde muttered as Viper nodded in assent.

Reborn nodded to the bartender as he stood, placing his money on the bar before sweeping out of the building. When he stepped into the cool night air, Reborn adjusted his fedora. "A little soldier boy, huh?" He smirked slightly, his eyes locking onto where Fon was buckling a sleeping Skull into their car, a fond expression on his face as he brushed a gentle hand through wild purple locks. "Keep marching forward, soldier boy."


"Little soldier boy, come marching home.
Brave soldier boy, comes marching home."


Well, I was attacked by another rapid plot bunny.

Not as long as Toy Soldier, but meh, what can you do? When the muse stops, the muse stops. A continuation of Toy Soldier, and a little bit of insight into Skull's past.

And- oh look at that! A wild Fon/Skull pairing appeared! Heh, drunk Skull strikes again.

Reviews are love, love fuels my burning flames of plots.

~TDU