I am trying my hand at T rated stories, this current one is about Reborn and may move into the M rated section soon for violence and very graphic descriptions of murder and poisoning. If my sister takes over this story, I think there will be romance though, she has also published another story under my name, but I just hope it doesn't come out as more popular than mine .
Reborn
No, it was completely impossible that his first 'lover' was still alive. Reborn had permanently disabled that 'lover' and had made sure that a crossbow vault stuck out of that man's ribcage himself. That 'lover' couldn't possibly awake, standing near him be looking at him from inside the Vongola decimo's office, it just wasn't possible in terms of body regeneration. In fact, the last time Reborn had checked, the private hospital in America in which he had kept his first 'lover' had declared the subject was in vegetative state, and not likely to ever wake up again. Tugging his fedora downwards, his past student, the Decimo gave him a concerned glance at both him and the hit man next to him before glancing back at his paperwork on the millennium old hardwood desk.
"Nice to see you again Reynardo, or should I now say, Reborn. I didn't really like the fact that when I woke up, there were tubes sticking out of my stomach, and chest, but some sacrifices have to be made. I'm sure you know exactly what I mean."
Growling lowly, he brought out a Leon-turned glock and flipped off the safety.
"Is that any way to greet your first 'lover' Reynardo? You know Leon won't shoot at me, it was me after all, who was his first owner."
As if on queue, the chameleon squirmed back into it's lizard like shape and climbed onto the other hit man's shoulder. Behind him, Reborn could almost feel Tsuna tense with confusion as he pulled out an emergency pistol that he kept for back-up.
"come cazzo hai fatto tornare dai morti e perché?"
(how the fuck did you come back from the dead and why?)
"Sono tornato a riprendere il mio posto come numero uno sicario, non c'è bisogno di preoccuparsi, però, nessun altro sarà coinvolto in questa piccola scaramuccia"
(I came back to take back my place as number one hit man, no need to worry though, no one else will be involved in this little skirmish)
_topic line_not the end_
'Lovers' was a term that Reborn commonly used to distinguish the people he worked with during his time as a professional free-lance hit man. It didn't necessarily mean they were in a romantic relationship, but the title was a good excuse and over when infiltrating enemy territory. Bianchi was an example of a 'lover' that had worked with him during one mission in the Russian mafia. She had poisoned an undercover cop with liquid nicotine and cyanide hidden in the man's morning coffee before leaving as the said target was declared died from heart failure. Even though Bianchi was an accomplished hit woman, she had fallen head over heels for him and constantly flaunted that he and herself were dating. Reborn could care less about the rumors-after all, what worth was a ally with too many weaknesses, (one of them being Reborn himself)- to an seasoned hit man?
Truthfully, if Reborn had to pick between his male and female 'lovers' (yes, he had worked with men before, and the rumors that the bitches of mafia bosses spread about him taking another man's virginity were to some extent, true) he would most probably pick the his first 'lover' The one he had met when his name was still named Reynardo, was not an Arcobaleno, and had not met Sawada Tsunayoshi, and still lived in the Vongola orphanage. After all, his first 'lover' was the one who turned him towards that path of a hit man instead of a psychopathic murderer(grudgingly, he had to admit that he had based SOME of the training methods for Dino and Tsuna from his past training with his First lover)
But that was the past, what use was remembering the past if now it did no good to help the future?
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(Reborn's/Reynardo's telling, nine years old, Sicily, Italy)
BANG!
Murky black eyes of a ten year old narrow at the bullet hole slightly to the left of the Vongola orphanage target range. Reynardo knew that venting his anger at the Vongola target ranges was only going to cause more bills and mar his aim, but he actually had a reason to be angry. unlike those newly orphaned prats that didn't know a thing about the world. They weren't born to a prostitute. They weren't left on the orphanage doorstep. They weren't named after a brand of coffee that fell out of the public's favor years ago because of the opium that was smuggled inside. Heck, the new prats that came in actually knew what outside of the Vongola orphanage walls looked like.
Scratching at the stiff collar of the Vongola Orphanage uniform mindlessly as he ignored the glares of his fellow orphans, he yawned at the empty threats and glares. It wasn't his fault that the rest of the children at the orphanage disliked him, it really wasn't. Those who knew darkness were shut out and scorned by the light. The glares of children had nothing on what he had seen and done within the orphanage walls, no one looked close enough to see the bloodstains, the signs of struggle from previous orphanage children.
The orphanage used to be a hidden German Nazi research plant that the Vongola bought from officials when the matter was kept from the public eye and turned into a base where the next generation of hit men were bred. Why else would the orphanage teach children to shoot a handgun at a target over 20 meters away if they could be considered normal children that would be adopted? It didn't matter to those in the mafia. The strong lived; The weak died.
There was no doubt that Reynardo was strong, no one his age was as cunning or strong as himself. He had nothing to fend for, no attachments to hold him back. He would become the world's strongest hit man and have no one stop him from bursting out of the orphanage. The shallow attention starved faces of brainwashed orphans who were destined to become the brainless mafia dons were acknowledged as nothing but weakness in the eyes of Reynardo. Caretakers of the orphanage had already given up trying to get him associated with the other children during the martial arts tournaments and weekly shooting matches, they already knew he would always win. To put it in short, he had no future, the caretakers hated him and no one would adopt him. If he could, he would escape from this hell-hole of a orphanage if he could support himself, but who would take a 10 year old darkly scowling at everyone seriously? .
Sighing, Reynardo dragged himself forward to bad tempered orphanage cook who shoved a bowl full of thick, colorless oatmeal in front of him. Even the food was an exact match to the dreary colored walls of the kitchen. Today was a special day though, and it showed itself in the oatmeal with two tiny raspberries, a new orphan would join the orphanages merry little group of brainless mafia-dons. Nothing to be excited about, just another scowl pointed at him behind his back.
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Blond hair, blue eyes, typical French boy. Attracted the other children in the orphanage and the caretakers like flies to honey because of his personality and his inability to speak italian without including some French. Problem was-
"Hey Je suis Axcel, what is your nom?"
"Reynardo! Allons-y! it's time for the shooting contest !"
"Hey! Reynardo! se depecher! Dinner is ready!"
"aimez-vous steak?"
The new boy, Axcel wouldn't FUCKING leave him alone. After the usual first day, most orphans would give up trying to be social with him, but Axcel kept at it for well over a week. Worst yet was the fact that Axcel managed to land himself as room mate, and managed to cheer the usually dreary and silent boy that Reynardo shared a room with into a jacasseur, a chatterbox.
"WILL YOU FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE?"
At wits end, Reynardo cracked. He hadn't really meant to shout in the cafeteria, but after two non-stop weeks of chatter and insufficient sleep, the little blond weasel that was now poking his cheek seemed to be laughing at his misery.
"Comment-cela? What do you mean Rey-Rey?"
Barely able to hide his frustration under a mature facade at the childish nickname: Rey-Rey, he sighed sufferingly before facepalming and shoving his unfinished bowl of stew towards the center of the table and stalked angrily towards the child dorms. Not-surprisingly, whispers of mock and fear snapped at his heels as soon as he left the cafeteria, Reynardo knew the common topic of scorn, and was perfectly content being a dark cloud hovering above their heads as long as they would LEAVE HIM ALONE!
"Reynardo! Ne pas se coucher! Wait up!"
Snapping his fist at the source of the sound out of reflex and annoyance, it hit nothing but air. Turning around to face Axcel, his black eyes met the bright mediterranean blue eyes for a moment before dodging a roundhouse kick that would have left quite the bruise on his torso. Sensing something on his left, he launched his counter attack in the form of a hail of punches until he felt a light brush behind his ear. Damn pressure points.
"Les autre infants m'ont dit tu est tres tres fort! Je ne veux pas me battre! I don't want to fight! You are strong so I want to be your ally."
"Fucking leave me alone! I don't give a shit."
A bit more pressure behind his ear and all he felt was pain before he blacked out.
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Hello People, this is Kishimoto Rei talking, I hope you like this story so far, I think the idea originally came when I first took another world language besides Chinese and English, and still went to fencing before my wrist broke. I was dubbed Axcel in French, so I decided to put that name as an OC. Anyway, I think I still need someone to beta my story because even though spell-check works my grammar is still sucky (English is not my first language, I came to America after the Kobe earthquake but I always got really good scores on my English tests, so I should be fine for the most part) I think I'll be putting a poll up for what kind of missions and flames Axcel has in the third chapter, but for the most part, I still need someone to keep my grammar in check. In terms of updating, I'll go once or twice every two weeks, usually on weekends.
Arrivederci, sayonara, zai jian, bye, au revoir, and see you again.
-Rei