The rumor mill in Japan's been busy. In every gambling den and every whorehouse, in every yakuza front and back alley clinic, people talk.
Everyone's been talking about the new killers on the block, and he hears it all.
Swinging a bottle of scotch between his fingers, Xanxus steps over the body on the floor and sits down at the desk, flipping through the file.
This trash captain of some no name group had been keeping tabs on the victims, obviously afraid he would be next. (Which he was, judging by the blood and guts staining the floor.)
Wiping a bloodstain off the glass, he peers over the photographs, fingers tracing the stab wounds and the bullet holes. Even more interesting, though, are the charred bodies and ash visible in he pictures. The charred bodies when there's no sign of matches or gasoline-that only points to one thing.
Skies are rare and rarer still are the ones that manage to use their flames to burn a man alive. Add in the stealth of the killings, the obvious enthusiasm in the stabbings contrasted by the cold brutality of the bullet wounds-it makes a smile stretch across his face.
The Varia are skilled but, as much as he hates to admit it, they aren't perfect. Some of the recruits have been killed or washed out or even poached by that fucker Iemitsu. They need new blood more than ever right now, and this killer could easily become Varia quality.
Or Multiple Killers, Xanxus considers as he flips through the photos to find new victims. Some targets were beaten to death. Others with knives or bullets, more with wounds caused by what can only be a sword. A skilled killer knows more than one way to end a life, but everyone has their preferences.
A knife nut, a swordsman, a brawler, even someone inclined towards guns and what seems to be tonfas-all of them are promising, all of them could easily be recruited. The Varia has their reputation for a reason, after all. Even the most loyal killer won't turn down an invitation-especially one made by the boss himself.
Tracking them down is proving harder than expected. They're obviously just starting out, maybe not even killing for money. And, unfortunately, that just makes them harder to track. A skilled hitman will only go for the best targets, for the hardest or the most expensive. The rookies are the unpredictable ones.
He's not gonna quit, though, not with such potential so close. So he waits and watches, so he puts informants near possible victims and starts thinking of ways to draw them out.
Days pass days where he does nothing but smoke and drink, but Xanxus knows they'll turn up.
Finally a terrified informant passes on a tip, some lackey shares that their boss's security system has been acting strange. Could be a coincidence, of course, but in his line of business there's no such thing.
Stomping out a cigarette beneath his heel, Xanxus smirks, slow and sure.
It's laughably easy to sneak into the manor, and he realizes why when he finds the first dead body. Clean and clinical, a quick slice through the arteries, and Xanxus hums in approval, stepping around the pooling blood and climbing up the stairs.
Screams echo down the corridors, the sound of laughter following, and he hurries on. But there's nothing but bodies to greet him, at least until he kicks down the door of the study at the end, X-guns ready.
It's a kid.
They'd recruited Bel when the brat was tiny, and everyone knows even the most vigilant scum can be taken by surprise by a child assassin.
Still, the figure crouched over the body is tiny, so much smaller than expected. Fuck, maybe he's gonna have to kidnap this one.
The brat is fast, though, up and on his feet within seconds, the barest hint of flames sparking to life on his skin.
Xanxus breaks their standoff, making a show of holstering his guns. Doesn't stop him from being able to easily kill the kid, of course, and judging by the brat's tense shoulders he knows the same.
"You're The Bloody Sky?" He asks, keeping his voice calm-well, calmer than normal.
"Some people call me that," a feminine voice answers, "but I like the other names better. Seems a bit stupid, to advertise your flame like that."
He can't help it, he barks out a laugh. "Shouldn't be burning people alive then, trash."
"That's fair," the brat answers, voice rueful, before tilting her head. "What do you want, Varia?"
"And why do you think I'm Varia?" He asks, interested despite himself.
"It's faint but your accent is Italian. No Italian hitman would travel to Japan unless they were truly skilled or the contract was incredibly expensive. Everyone knows the Varia are the best in our business. Add in what you just called me, and it's easy to see."
The girl steps forward.
"So, Xanxus, why are you here?"
"Join us," Xanxus answers, more demand than request, and the girl blinks in surprise, amber eyes widening.
"What?" She stammers out, practically choking.
"Your group," and the girl tenses at that, "is wasted here. You're going after scum like this when you could be chasing real targets."
"You're serious," the girl whispers, still shocked as she gazes up. Straightening in an attempt at composing herself, the brat steps back, eyes still locked on him. "I-I need to talk to the others."
"Of course," he agrees easily, smirking at the still lost look in her eyes. "And when you're done, I'll take you back to Italy. Now-" he steps forward, ignoring the way her hand tenses around her knife, "what's your name?"
"Hibari," the girl answers without hesitation, "Hibari Tsuna."