Summary:
"Luce" is a Italian and Latin for "light". And she was truly the light of his dark, dark life, no matter how gushingly sappy and out-of-character that sounded to him. Because it was the truth, the whole and plain and simple truth. Somewhat AU.
Disclaimer:
I don't own KHR!, nor do I own the cover picture.
Reborn was not the sort of person to fall in love easily.
Or quickly.
Or, y'know, at all.
That was more of Renato Sinclair's thing, and Renato Sinclair had long ago been locked up to make way for Reborn, the World's Greatest Hitman.
Love was not a thing that flourished well in the seedy environment of the Mafia.
Blood and bitter curses were the only plentiful nourishment able to be found, and any buds of romance were instantly squashed by the aching tears and sweat that poured out of the metaphorical watering can.
But when the black-haired woman with the ridiculous hat and the air of innocence entered the room he'd been instructed to go to, his first thought was, 'She's too kind for the Mafia'.
Tilting his fedora downwards, Reborn remained quiet, watching the other five people gathered respond to the cheery newcomer's sweet smiles and sincere words.
'Strongest Seven...'
You didn't need to be a genius to figure out the significance of '7', especially when it was concerned with the Cosa Nostra.
To ordinary civilians, they might recognize '7' as the number traditionally acknowledged to be the most powerful magical number, from folklore and supposedly ancient rituals.
To any Mafioso worth their existence, they would instantly connect '7' to the number of Flame types there were.
Sun… Himself, obviously, because being the World's Greatest Hitman didn't mean he couldn't also have the World's Strongest Sun Flames.
(In fact, he kinda expected it.
Arrogance wasn't arrogance if you could back up your fanciful claims with cold hard evidence.
And Reborn had evidence in spades, even if no one would immediately associate Sun Flames, or any kind of fire, to be either 'cold' or 'hard'.
Though there were some very interesting rumors circulating lately about a newly discovered division in Flames; 'Hard' and 'Soft' Flames…?)
Lightning… if he was going by colors, then the most likely fit was that scientist loner in the corner, muttering madly over his notes and research and calculations and undoubtedly analyzing the mysterious note from 'Checkerface'.
Verde, was it? Well, Verde did have that feel of a Lightning, too. All static and unapproachable without an apprehension about getting a nasty shock.
Mist… same process, so the cloaked figure with the violet hair and strange tattoo markings, then.
Viper had been what he/she had curtly introduced himself/herself as, before settling in a helpfully provided seat and rapidly typing in a list of prices and costs and scribbling away in that 'Investments' notebook of his/hers.
At least he/she was honest about what they wanted: money, and lots of it, apparently.
Rain… he faintly recalled seeing Lal Mirch before.
The COMSUBIN trainer that buffoon Iemitsu had been babbling away about earlier, correct?
She'd given everyone a short nod of greeting, and then had resigned herself to a wait, though her fingers persisted in tapping impatiently on the smooth tabletop.
Storm… Fon was an acquaintance of his, and they often sparred when they had time.
Reborn had personally always thought that he should've been a Rain, what with his ever-smiling and ever-calm expressions, but no one could deny the sheer skill and force of the Chinese martial artist's Storm Flames.
He'd had the pleasure of seeing Fon in serious combat before, and the vivid imagery of crimson fire that seemed to burn the very air around it had never fully faded from the Sun-user.
Cloud… by elimination, the odd one out was the helmet-sporting violet-haired and violet-eyed man, who called himself the great 'Skull-sama' and declared himself to be the best stuntman in the world.
(So he had to be Cloud, because Reborn knew how a Sky felt, and Skull was nowhere near the unparalleled charisma, allure, and 'Sky Attraction' phenomenon.)
Stuntman he may be, but a stuntman was no match for a hitman.
His new 'lackey' had been sufficiently cowed within minutes of entering the room.
Therefore, when the woman with the gentle features gracefully walked inside, Reborn could tell she was the Sky they were all waiting for.
Her presence was… indescribable.
Warm, and unconditionally loving; it was everything he had ever imagined a Harmonization to be, except for the minor detail that it wasn't a Harmonization.
Even as the others burst into noise and surprise and heavily interrogated her about whether or not she'd accidentally wandered into the wrong meeting room, Reborn kept his silence.
Because just since he wasn't the type of person to fall in love easily, or quickly, or at all, that didn't mean that he couldn't.
It simply took more effort.
But this woman… everything she did seemed effortless.
"My name is Luce," she says, that absolutely glowing smile on her face, a tray of hand-baked pastries in hand. "I hope we can all get along and be friends. Would you like a cookie?"
And Reborn fell hard, fell fast, fell with all the remnants of Renato Sinclair and all the rest of Reborn, the World's Greatest Hitman.
. . .
Then a few months later, she was pregnant and wore such a blissful smile of happiness on her face.
He said nothing of his growing affections, and contented himself with their growing friendship instead, never hinting that he may have wanted more than simply friendships built off of chats over coffee in carefree cafes.
Luce clearly loved her lover to pieces, and while Renato always had shifty morals to begin with, even Reborn wouldn't get in the way of two adoring spouses just for his own selfish wants.
"Your curly sideburns are your most attractive feature," Luce remarks one day, cheerily.
She clearly thinks nothing more of it.
Reborn doesn't allow himself to read any more deeply into it, no matter how much he wanted to.
"Well, of course," he simply retorts with a confident smirk. "Though everything else about me is just as charming."
Setting down her cup, she gives him that oddly knowing look, and for a split second an expression of terrible weariness drapes over her.
As swiftly as it came, it was snatched away, unveiling the same sweetly smiling face she always appeared to have on.
"Of course," she agrees amiably, laughing lightly and sipping her drink.
He wishes that he was less of a coward as he chuckles along.
Maybe if he was, then perhaps he would've plucked up his usually infallible courage and reached over with his tanned and callused hands to clasp her own slender and delicate fingers.
Her engagement ring glints mockingly at him.
His coffee tastes more bitter than usual in his mouth.
It leaves an unpleasantly ashy taste behind.
They say their goodbyes and depart.
Him, striding off for a job.
Her, striding off for her family.
The coffee isn't the only thing giving him a bitter sensation.
A wedding invitation rests heavy in his pocket.
. . .
He ends up not going.
He couldn't take it.
Of course, Reborn still sent his (faked) congratulations and a present, but he ditched the actual wedding, making up an excuse about a very important hit taking place that day.
For a second, as sadness dawns on Luce's normally crystalline blue eyes, he thinks that she believes him.
Then that oddly knowing look comes back, and she suddenly hugs him, burying her head into his shoulder.
As he's stiff with shock, and the effort of restraining his reflex to shoot her, Luce murmurs something in his ear and departs as he's still silent.
"It's okay, Reborn. I know why. And I'm sorry it had to turn out this way. But don't let this us stop us from continuing to be friends, please?"
The next week, Lal calls him.
"Congrats," she says with amusement. "You are now the proud godfather of Luce's newly born daughter."
He hangs up the phone and rushes out the door, intent on locating Luce and demanding answers.
. . .
When he finds her, he's just in time to save her from being crushed by a boulder.
"You stupid, stupid woman," Reborn mutters while concentrating on healing up her scrapes with unusual gentleness.
His words are half-hearted, though, and Luce can tell, judging by the wry grin on her face.
As soon as she can stand, she responds.
"Maybe. I don't know. Do any of us really know anything about life?"
Her tone holds a touch of whimsy and wistfulness that he's never heard from her before.
It frightens him.
It takes a lot to frighten the World's Greatest Hitman.
But this does it, because she sounds too much like a person nearing death; that's when most people begin pondering over their existence.
So he comforts her the only way he knows how.
He scoffs and supports her weight, helping her back through the woods, and grumbles under his breath.
"Of course not. That's what life is for. Learning how to live."
Her expression isn't visible from his position, but her answer is dry and sardonic, so unlike her usual self.
"Ah, but who shall teach us how to die? We only get one shot at it, after all."
His heart clenches throbbingly, and his throat seizes up.
After a cough, it's cleared.
"You don't believe in reincarnation?" he chooses to ask instead.
A sigh, unreadable.
"I'd like to," is all she says.
Silence engulfs the two of them, until they make it out of the woods, and Luce clambers awkwardly down from his back.
Before turning to leave, she hesitates and hangs back for a moment, meeting his eyes with startling clarity and intensity.
"Thank you, Reborn," she intones, laden with meaning.
They both know it's not just a simple thanks for the ride.
He tilts his fedora down, hiding his frown.
"It's nothing," he replies airily, with forced nonchalance.
Luce smiles softly, and walks off without a backwards glance.
Reborn watches her figure shrink and disappear over the horizon.
. . .
The Arcobaleno curse takes hold, and as soon as the new Sun Arcobaleno can think straight, a horrible realization clobbers him 'round the head.
"She knew all along," he whispers to himself, a sense of nausea disorienting him while staring at his baby-sized hands.
Verde, who woke up a few seconds after him, gives the fedora-wearing baby a sharp, suspicious glance.
"Who's 'she', and what did she know?" the green-haired, labcoat-wearing baby questions.
Scoffing, Reborn stands up, refusing to let any of his wobbliness show.
"I don't owe you any answers," are his only words.
Verde looks at him leave the room with a slammed door.
"But you already gave me an answer," he speaks aloud, smirking at the cocky hitman's slip-up.
The only 'she' that Reborn hung around with who could possibly have any relation to the curse was Luce, naturally.
His computer is out within seconds, and the shrunken state of his fingers barely hinders his search.
Unfortunately, it's a fruitless search.
He goes back to his lab, disappointed.
Where could Luce have gone, and why would she have blocked herself off from any means of surveillance/contact?
. . .
It's a solemn day.
All the Arcobaleno, no matter their petty squabbles, had gathered a few hours earlier to witness their Sky's burial.
Now, alone in his house, and reading the letter left behind to him by order of Luce's will, Reborn's tiny shoulders shake with mirthless laughter.
The letter drops with a flutter to the ground.
Paying it no mind, he leans back and closes his eyes.
He had already committed the words to memory.
Dear Reborn, it says.
My time is nearing. I cannot say much, for my sight is unreliable and not without faults, but know that I am forever grateful to have met you. Our friendship was cherished, and I loved you as much as you did me, though perhaps of a different nature. I enjoyed our talks over coffee immensely, and those days always gave me a great satisfaction. I knew of the curse, yes, as you most likely suspected. I also knew that I could not change it, but in the near future, someone else will. Please, have patience. And I am so, so sorry for having deserted you all as soon as I received the curse. The Sky Arcobaleno's curse is different from the others' curses, however, and it would've been best to wait it out without involving unnecessary stress in your lives. But if I may be a little selfish, would you promise me one thing, my dearest friend? Take care of my daughter, and your goddaughter, Aria, and do not begrudge her what I have done. Thank you… Renato.
With much heartfelt love,
Luce of the Giglio Nero
'So she knew?' Reborn wonders, one hand resting limply on his hated yellow pacifier.
'Did she know all this time? How much I loved her? She always did seem to see right through me, with that oddly knowing look of hers… and she still thinks she's the selfish one...'
. . .
Aria resembled her mother very closely.
She also died of a mysterious, incurable disease.
Died with a soft smile on her face, like the ones Luce had so often bestowed upon the Arcobaleno.
Cradling Yuni in his similarly proportioned arms, Reborn tilts down his fedora and vows to not let yet another Sky Arcobaleno and Giglio Nero heiress/Donna go the same way.
. . .
That vow is in his mind as he lunges forward aggressively, desperately, attempting to reach the foolishself-sacrificingmartyr currently bringing back the dead Arcobaleno with her life energy.
Tsuna holds him back, yelling something his ears are deaf to.
All that registers is her suddenly lifeless corpse dropping abruptly onto the ground, that damnable smile on her face.
Movement drains from his body, and Reborn wishes that a lucky bullet would've taken him years ago.
He doesn't want to be the World's Greatest Hitman anyway.
Not if he could have simply been Renato Sinclair, the man who married Luce, the light of his life.
Maybe in another world.
But those are all hollow, empty wishes.
Because he knows better than anyone else that wishes are just another word for unreachable fantasies.
And oh, that smile…
#
#
#
~Please Review.~