What: adventure, humor, crime and punishme– oops, I meant action and mystery, of course.
Who: Bianchi and others.
Warnings: Swearing? You bet.
Where: Bianchi will go places.
Summary: only a friend in need is a friend indeed. Bianchi boards the plane back to Italy to prove that she can be counted on in times of trouble. It doesn't really help that back home is a father she is not looking forward to meeting, a duty she wishes were someone else's, and any helping hand may very well conceal a dagger.
Prologue
(in which some people are unnecessarily happy over sad things, and one little bird takes wing)
"So you're returning to Italy."
Reborn didn't look particularly saddened by the news – quite probably he had learned all about it before she even made the decision – and Bianchi allowed herself a slight frown. She wasn't very surprised when it had no effect on the Arcobaleno, though, as he continued without pausing.
"It's probably for the best."
Bianchi's frown deepened. "Why is that?"
"There's nothing for you to do here."
"What are you saying, Reborn? I'm sure I could do plenty to help–"
"Certainly. But it's not necessary. Everything's been quiet lately."
It was true, of course, but things like that could change any minute – you couldn't really expect the unexpected, after all; certainly not in the mafia sector of the business. Bianchi opened her mouth to voice her opinion, but Reborn beat her to it.
"Besides, no-good Tsuna and others aren't going anywhere – he has exams to pass, for one thing."
Tsuna – albeit at a snail's pace – was approaching another set of the much dreaded university exams, and everyone, even Hayato, admitted that he would never make it through without some serious studying. The fact that he kept falling asleep five minutes into reading didn't precisely help the matters either. In Bianchi's opinion, the boy's attitude was the problem. Tsuna had never been a brilliant student at school and, naturally, he exhibited no desire to prolong the dubious pleasure of bookworming by graduating from the university. If anything, he might have hoped the whole mafia ordeal would allow him to find a leeway of sorts. Reborn had put a cruel end to his pupil's sweet dreams by announcing that the Tenth Vongola boss couldn't afford to be an uneducated moron and he personally would make sure Tsuna attended every single lecture even if he had to use heavy machinery to achieve this goal.
Reborn was absolutely right, of course: a boss of an organization as big as the Vongola Family couldn't afford the luxury to snore his way through life like a clueless idiot, relying on accidents and good fortune. There was such a thing as obligation too, which wasn't to be sniffed at; but Bianchi found it very hard to look at Tsuna's crestfallen expression and not feel pity for him. It wasn't like the exams were his only source of misery. Reborn's trainings never became any less extreme either.
She sighed. "What about Nana, though? As long as I'm here, I do my fair share of chores."
"Mama will be fine. Don't forget that she ran this house all by herself before."
"Well, she only had Tsuna to think about then..." Because Iemitsu, while being an excellent advisor to the Ninth, was a very lousy husband to his wife and an even worse father to his son.
"Haru and Kyoko will be happy to help. They practically live here anyway. And Chrome comes to visit all the time too."
Bianchi pursed her lips. It was one of those rare times when Reborn irritated her. Not much, of course, not really; but he just seemed entirely too keen on sending her away, and he wasn't even bothering to be subtle about it. .
"So you think I really should go?"
Reborn gave her one of his imperceptible little smiles. "I thought you said you had business back in Italy."
"Well, I wouldn't put it this way, not exactly," she waved a hand in the air nonchalantly. "I will stay if you need me here."
She didn't think she could be any more straightforward about it. If only Reborn played along for once and told her he wanted her to stay beside him. Was it really so hard to do? Why did men insist on being difficult all the time? Even the best of them, like Reborn, could sometimes drive a woman mad.
"Thank you, Bianchi. But you'd better go back to Italy. You must be worried about your friend. She may be in danger."
"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing, Chiara always liked to exaggerate."
"It won't hurt to check, though, will it? It's your duty, as her friend."
Inwardly, Bianchi had to admit she was getting nowhere. There was no way around anything that involved the word "duty", not when Reborn really meant it. She hadn't actually hoped to hear any heart-felt I love you's from him; but to think that her clever plan backfired. Suddenly, she felt a wave of overwhelming sympathy for Tsuna – he got bullied by Reborn five times a day for several years in a row, the poor thing; and it was no small matter even when no physical kicking was involved.
And now she was on the receiving end of it herself. Lucky her.
Bianchi didn't precisely want to go to Italy, but now that she'd told Reborn about Chiara's phone call, there was little chance of wriggling out of it; even though she could bet the whole affair was just another fake alarm. Chiara had always been big on that sort of thing, which was exactly the reason Bianchi hadn't immediately boarded the plane back home after their conversation was over.
It was obvious that Reborn had some creepy idea about her, and, in his usual manner, didn't plan on sharing. Had it concerned someone else, none of this would make a difference – why, she may have applauded and praised his strategic mind, but seeing how it was her politely getting booted out of Japan by the man she loved, Bianchi wasn't ready to give up just yet.
Well, she could try something else then.
She arranged her features into what she considered to be a proper expression for a capable, but nevertheless fragile woman.
"If it's serious, though, I may require assistance," she said, looking pointedly at Reborn.
"This is true."
Oh, so he agreed. Finally something was going the way she planned.
"Luckily, in Italy, it won't be much of a problem."
Oh no.
"You're part of Vongola, and, even more importantly, you are your father's daughter. So you won't encounter any obstacles, should you need help."
"It would be very reassuring if I could have a professional of the highest caliber at my side," Bianchi hinted.
"I wouldn't have it any other way myself," Reborn agreed.
"Ah, so..."
"Iemitsu, and Basil, and the rest of CEDEF are in Italy. Or you may contact the Ninth directly. And you are your father's daughter."
The last part she hadn't heard. Absolutely. The rest, though...
Bianchi imagined calling the elderly Vongola boss and asking him for useful tips on how to deal with over-imaginative young women like Chiara.
"They likely have more important things to do," she squeaked feebly.
"Dino will be delighted to help you out," Reborn smiled again, in a rather annoying manner. "Alternatively, you can always try your hand with the Varia."
Like hell. Getting hit by wine glasses and random items of furniture had never been part of even her wildest fantasies. And she didn't appreciate it when people called her names either; although, thanks to the so-called relationship she had with Hayato, she knew perfectly well how to deal with it. In fact, if Bianchi was forced to choose whose displeasure to suffer, she would pick the Ninth over Xanxus any day, because where Timoteo was a sensible, intelligent person, his adopted son and his cronies all manifested various degrees of insanity. The last thing she wanted was to find out exactly how far their personal issues had already taken them.
Not, definitely no Varia for her.
Dino Cavallone was a another story though. She rather liked the guy – only in the general sense of the word, of course, as no man in the world could ever hope to eclipse Reborn in her eyes. But Dino, at the very least, had some entertainment value and wasn't a homicidal maniac. She even regretted having tried to kill him, many years ago, when she had thought he was going to take Reborn away from her. Out of the rest of the mafia bunch back in Italy, Dino was the most decent one. There was something fluffy about him–
Too bad she wasn't even going to need him, seeing how Chiara would undoubtedly be right as rain. The trip was going to be a total waste of time. Perhaps, she could still weasel out of it, if only she–
"And, by the way, it's been more than a year since you last saw your father. Don't you think he misses you?"
Bianchi gave up. She should have known how this conversation would end before she even opened her big mouth and said the first word. And talking about her father was not what she wanted to do today. Or ever. Still, the way Reborn was acting, there was officially no way out of it now – she was going all the way back to Italy, all because her brainless bimbo of a friend had taken it into her silly head that she was being followed.
"I've booked a ticket for you."
Well, she should have expected that.
"Thank you, Reborn," said Bianchi politely, although in truth she wasn't feeling particularly grateful, and he probably knew. "When–"
"This evening. You'd better hurry up and pack. Yamamoto will drive you to the airport."
That was a bit too much even coming from Reborn.
"I'll be back in no time," she promised sweetly. "Can't really leave you alone here, can I?"
"Hm. I appreciate your concern, Bianchi. But you don't want to miss your flight."
"Aren't you going to see me off?" She wondered where her dignity had gone to hide but still couldn't help asking.
"I'd like to, but I have something planned for Tsuna tonight, so I can't go," Reborn smiled cryptically, which made her feel rather sorry for the unsuspecting boy, even if it was for his own good. "Have a good time in Italy, Bianchi."
"Will do."
Bianchi left Reborn in the kitchen and headed back to her own room, where she extracted her traveling bag from under the bed and began packing, lost in thought.
There was no denying the fact that her love life left a lot to be desired. In fact, it plain sucked. It might not be obvious from the first glance, but it was true. Her taste in men appeared to be the root of all her evil, but no matter how much she looked, she couldn't see how she might have known. It had all seemed so logical at the time. It had made all the sense in world.
First was Romeo, a perfect gentleman and charming to the point where she believed the sun rose and set in his eyes, and she probably behaved like a complete idiot whenever he was around. Then he turned out to be a pretentious coward, but before she could realize it properly and leave him in a dignified manner, he went and got poisoned, resulting in the stupid rumor that it was her doing. As if. Not having been the one who finished off the bastard was one of her few regrets. She'd wanted to, but clearly, there were others out there who didn't like to waste their time. Although, technically, he might have accidentally eaten her poisoned food; she used to leave it just lying around back then, after all, when she got tired all experimenting and felt like having a lie-down and all.
Not that it mattered now, how he'd died. What mattered was that she would have been better off with a talking parrot.
Then, right before Reborn came along, she'd met Giorgio, who had all a woman could wish for in a man and more – except that two weeks into their relationship, he'd suggested a threesome with her and Chiara. Bianchi wasn't one for sharing her men, not even with a friend.
Well, at the very least Giorgio was still alive and well, a great improvement compared to the fate that had befallen Romeo, so she was quite proud of how it all had turned out in the end.
Then the Reborn era had begun, and while it was definitely better than the other two options, here she was seven years later, in a foreign country, and marriage had never seemed further away. And Bianchi did want to get married. She could wait, yes, but at least it would be nice to know she wasn't just wasting time. She couldn't just hang around forever.
She threw the last pair of socks into the bag – with more force than was necessary – and slammed it shut.
It wasn't her taste, it was her attitude! She was asking too much of Reborn when he had more than enough on his plate with the uncooperative Tsuna; she was just being selfish and egoistic. It wasn't like he'd told her to go away. He'd simply suggested the right course of action, as always, knowing that it was better to err on the side of caution where the mafia was concerned. She should be grateful, not sulking.
Bianchi sniffed and marched towards the door, dragging the bag behind her.
She was going to go to Italy to make sure Chiara was alright, even if it was nothing but formality. Then she would visit her father, because it was important and she really should do it even if the mere thought of the upcoming conversation with the man made her heart ache. Well, there was nothing that could be done about that one.
She'd sneak up on Iemitsu and make him spare some time to go to Japan to see his family. She'd offer help to the Ninth, in case he needed it, and to Dino, since he was practically Vongola anyway; and when she got back to Namimori – to Reborn – she would feel much better about it all, because she would have done a good job.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
And she would make an effort to improve her relationship with Hayato, because it was sad and shameful that they couldn't even talk normally for five minutes.
"What are you doing, standing in the middle of the corridor and grinning like an idiot?"
But not right now.
"I'm not grinning like an idiot, Hayato. Honestly, you're so rude. Sometimes people smile because they're in a good mood."
He frowned at her, apparently torn between the desire to ask what she was cheerful about and the equally strong instinct to leave her as far behind as possible. Eventually, curiosity won.
"So what's happened to make you so awfully happy?"
"I'm going home." It wasn't exactly the source of her joy, but Bianchi had no intention of dumping the details of her feverish thought process on Hayato.
"Home?" He seemed surprised for a moment, and then a look of disgust flashed across his face, reminding her that their memories of Italy were very different indeed."What's so great about that place?"
"I need to visit a friend of mine," Bianchi replied mildly, deciding not to start a discussion with her brother.
"Ah," he shrugged, and then perked up suddenly, a hopeful expression spreading across his features. "So, you'll be gone for a while, right?"
Did everyone want to get rid of her today?
"I don't know yet, Hayato," she said, trying to keep a straight face. "It depends, I guess."
"Depends on what? Well, whatever. I'm sure you can look after yourself." He hesitated and asked reluctantly. "Need help with this bag or what?"
He didn't let her answer, though, practically wrestling the thing from her and hauling it down the stairs, where Yamamoto was already waiting, a wide smile threatening to split his face open. She noticed that neither Reborn, nor Tsuna were present. Whatever Reborn had been planning, it was probably already happening to his unfortunate pupil. Bianchi said her good-byes to Nana and the kids – a will-be-back-in-no-time that was accepted a bit too cheerfully for her liking – and trailed out of the house after Hayato.
It was so strange to realize that he was taller than her now. Taller and stronger.
Hayato shoved her bag into the car, without much delicacy, and turned to face her, frowning.
"Well, you take care," he said irritably. "The last thing I want to do is return to the damn country to save your ass."
For a moment, she only gaped like a goldfish. That was unexpectedly sweet. In fact, from Hayato, it was almost the epitome of brotherly love. She smiled up at him.
"I'll do my best."
He nodded curtly and turned to go back into the house; and as she watched him disappear into the shadowy hallway, she felt an odd sort of tenderness stirring sleepily inside her chest, and it almost made her cry. For some reason, she doubted she would see him soon.
There was a nervous laughter, and Bianchi was reminded of Yamamoto's presence.
"Er, I hate to interrupt, but if you want to catch your flight, we'd better hurry," he explained, running a hand through his hair. In seven years, he never lost the habit, and nowadays Bianchi didn't think she could imagine him not doing it all the time. It was charming, in an untidy, teddy bear way.
"You're right," She got into the car and fastened herself in.
She was going home, and there was no changing it now.