Sinclair
A/N: I do not support physical violence, gun violence, murder, torture, emotional abuse and child neglect, which are present in this story.
The Sawadas lived in a simple two-storey house in the nondescript town of Namimori. They were a peaceful family of two, often pitied by their neighbours but otherwise unremarkable. Yet unbeknownst to anyone, they were the secret wife and son of one of the Sicilian mafia's most dangerous men.
Reborn set down his binoculars and leaned against the window sill from the house opposite to the Sawada Residence. Unremarkable had summarised his entire period of observation. Sawada Nana had solely been preoccupied with housework and tending to her child. Not once did she suspect unwelcome eyes, and by the end of the day, Reborn was convinced that Sawada Iemitsu had kept her entirely in the dark.
The sky was an array of reds by seven in the evening, and the warm summer breeze smelt like lavender from the neighbouring gardens. Sawada Nana was washing the dishes while her son played with foam blocks in the living room. At seven-twenty, the two settled in front of the television. By eight-thirty, the lights went out and the house stilled.
Reborn flicked on a lighter and set the photograph of his targets alight. For the rest of the hour, he gazed at the deep violet sky and listened to the chirping of crickets. After a cigarette, he strode towards the Sawada Residence.
There was an easy entrance through the bathroom window, accessible via a well-branched tree leading to the second floor balcony. The master bedroom was decorated with a large framed wedding portrait in front of the door. Drawing his CZ75 from his jacket, the hitman entered, his ears tuned in for movement.
Sawada Nana was a fragile thing, her neck bare and completely vulnerable as she slept. Reborn covered her face with a pillow and pressed the end of his silencer between her eyes. It was over in a second. Without pause, he walked to the other bed in the room, where a tiny figure lay shrouded in a blanket.
As Reborn took aim, there was a whimper beneath the blanket. He ducked back into the shadows, watching the moonlight casting silhouettes of sinewy branches across the walls. Then the child shifted. A small head emerged from the heap, breathing unevenly as he surveyed his surroundings.
"Mama?" The mattress creaked as the child tried to stand. A loud crash echoed throughout the room, and the child crumpled onto the floor with a sharp yelp. There was an audible effort not to cry. "M-Mama?" the child tried again.
He crawled towards Sawada Nana. The pillow was still over her head, crimson suffusing from the hole in the centre. A pale, hesitant hand reached towards it. Suddenly the child froze.
"Who are you?"
The child was staring right at Reborn with blazing, orange eyes. As if sensing the hitman's malice, Sawada Tsunayoshi snatched a glass from the nightstand and backed towards the door.
Reborn silently repositioned his gun, calculating the time it would take to hush the child before he threw the glass or alerted the neighbours, when a brilliant amber flame flickered from Sawada Tsunayoshi's forehead.
Sky Flames. Flames that should have been sealed by Timoteo long ago, to preserve the child's life as a civilian, and to keep Sawada Iemitsu's ambitions in line. Just as Timoteo had permanently sealed Reborn's Sky Flames before leaving him at the mercy of Checkerface.
But those were real Flames in front of him, pure, powerful and alive. And in that moment, Reborn felt a twinge of traitorous hope - hope that once again, he would be able to feel Sky Flames breathe life into his soul, to fill the void after the Arcobaleno curse had also claimed his Sun Flames.
As abruptly as they had appeared, the Sky Flames dissipated. Orange eyes dulled to brown, and the child collapsed onto the floor, glass shattering beside him. Upon seeing Reborn armed, his expression morphed into one of absolute terror.
Before the Vongola's last heir could scream, Reborn fired.
Reborn lay on the cheap motel bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as Vivaldi's 'Four Seasons' played on the radio. The place reeked of whiskey and cigarettes, and the yellow lights gazed down at him with bleary eyes. Its security was laughable - fake cameras, thin doors and a drowsy, overweight guard - but it would have to do for the night.
He was about an hour and a half outside Namimori. A taxi could get him to Narita Airport the following morning. The plan was to return to Sicily before the Sawadas were reported missing, except there was a five year old in his room, lying unconscious on the peeling leather couch, completely oblivious to the world.
It was a miracle that the bullet had even missed, and it was not because he had mispredicted the trajectory. Sawada Tsunayoshi had escaped certain death by fainting on the spot. The bullet had instead passed over his head and embedded itself into the Sawada couple's wedding portrait.
More specifically, right through Sawada Iemitsu's head - an accurate depiction of the latter's fate.
The subsisting issue was what to do with the Vongola heir. Reborn lacked the resources to keep him hostage, after having been sanctioned by the Vongola. It would also be impossible to stay on the run with a child. And while he could have single-handedly wiped entire divisions of the Vongola in the past, the circumstances were different now.
Reborn twisted a knob on his wristwatch and extended its hidden wire. Killing Sawada Tsunayoshi would be the most effective decision. It had been his mission for the past three months. Reborn had never failed a job he'd set out for, so why was the child still breathing two metres away from him?
But a wave of lethargy washed over him. The Arcobaleno curse had weakened him too much, to the point where he could no longer last a day without sleep. And when Reborn was exhausted, he couldn't think. As Vivaldi's winter movement faded out, the taut wire retracted into the watch, its next victim spared for one more rest.
He kept the lamp on that night. Basked in the orange glow, Reborn closed his eyes and dreamt of the warmth of flames flickering from the din.
When Reborn woke, the sun was already bright behind the blinds and there was a hum of traffic outside his window. The radio was broadcasting the midday news, something about current unemployment crisis in Japan, and a memorial for the deceased Princess of Wales. As far as Japan knew, no mothers had been murdered in their sleep.
With a heavy sigh, Reborn grabbed his shirt and trousers from the closet. His CZ75 was still under the pillow where he'd left it, and he checked it for bullets by habit before sliding it into his jacket. As he dressed, he eyed the other presence in the room, who was staring at the peeling wallpaper with a vacant expression.
The Vongola heir did not respond as Reborn inspected his binds. There were no signs of resistance, which was a good thing, but Reborn kept the strips of fabric on just in case. Hyper intuition was not something to be trifled with, and there was no telling when Sawada Tsunayoshi's survival instincts would kick into gear.
Outside his room, the motel was buzzing with activity. There was a line of tourists checking in, and maids wheeling around fresh sheets and towels. Once he made sure the 'Do Not Disturb' sign was still on his door, Reborn headed towards the nearest 7-Eleven.
Sawada Tsunayoshi was still unresponsive when he returned. Reborn removed the fabric binds and set down a bread roll and bottle of milk before him. When the child continued to stare blankly, Reborn sighed. If the Vongola heir chose to starve to death, he certainly wasn't going to stop him.
He left the food on the table anyway. He gulped down his awful convenience store coffee and went to the bathroom. But even cold water and mouthwash couldn't get rid of the feeling of being hungover.
Perhaps a glass of water would help. As he reached for the top shelf, deafening white noise suddenly roared in his ears. When he came to, the row of glasses had shattered across the counter.
He felt a tug on his trousers. Black eyes met brown, and the child quickly let go.
"Are you okay?" With his head lowered, Sawada Tsunayoshi nervously offered him something resembling paper. A plaster strip. Reborn hadn't even noticed the cut along the back of his hand.
It was truly unbelievable. Reborn had literally shot his mother in his presence, attempted to kill him and then abducted him, and now the child was concerned for him?
"Thank you," he managed at last. The words felt wrong. He should just end things right there, to strangle the Vongola heir and disappear before the situation escalated. But why was he hesitating?
He prepared to clean up the glass, when something glinted from the partially covered window. Two black SUV were parked outside. Reborn instinctively dropped beneath the table. He had barely drawn out his gun when three sharp knocks landed on his door.
"Security," a male voice called out. His Japanese was accented, almost concealed by the rough voice of a heavy smoker. "Sir, we were alerted by the sound of broken glass. Is everything alright?"
A few steps away, Sawada Tsunayoshi had also tensed.
"Hide," Reborn hissed at him. Nodding dumbly, the child dove under the bed, while Reborn crept towards the door. He entered the adjacent bathroom, pressing his back against the bathroom tiles. He returned his gun to his jacket and extended the fibre wire from his watch.
There were three more knocks, each one harder than the previous. "Sir, I'm coming in!" the guard announced. The lock gave way and a caucasian man in a black suit appeared in the doorway, firearm drawn. Fine glass crunched under his shoes as he entered the room. The door closed behind him.
As soon as his back was turned, Reborn lunged at him, twisting his gun arm and looping the garotte around his neck. The man growled, gripping the wire and driving an elbow into Reborn's side. Snarling in pain, Reborn punched his head and slammed his face onto the glass-littered counter.
Ignoring his bleeding hands, he snatched the man's Beretta. There were two magazines inside his jacket and a small grenade. Without further ado, he grabbed the Vongola heir from under the bed and flung him over his shoulder as he made a break for the back exit.
The atmosphere was heavy with Mist Flames. A security guard walked right past him, not seeing the weapon in his hand or the bloodstains on the carpet. Reborn ignored the way the walls seemed to close in on him and turn into dead ends. He sprinted down the fire exit, trusting his intuition and finally opened the back door.
Around him, guns simultaneously clicked into place. Reborn halted, tasting betrayal in the air before he heard it.
"Reborn."
Rage and bitterness twisted in his gut. He set down the Vongola heir, keeping a firm arm around the child's neck as he aimed his gun towards the voice. The voice of an ally now gone.
"Noemi," he growled.
A navy haired woman stepped into the clearing, her gun trained on Reborn. The other CEDEF agents emerged like cold, dark shadows, carrying more ammunition than he had seen in months.
"It's Lal Mirch," the woman answered without emotion. "They told me you died, Reborn."
Their last meeting had been on that cursed mountain at the edge of the world, on the same summer Timoteo's sons had been murdered. They'd come for their final mission with their individual hopes and ambitions, promised with greatness and the fulfilment of their greatest desires. Like the others, Reborn had been intrigued by the reward, to regain what he had lost.
It had never crossed his mind that becoming a protector of the world's balance entailed becoming a sacrifice. Not until the seven of them had fallen to their knees, experiencing agony beyond their imagination as their Flames were ripped from their souls. And in that moment, Reborn understood the full nature of Timoteo's punishment - that he was to lose everything that made up his identity.
After the ordeal, they had gone their separate ways. Reborn returned to the underground. He'd kept his head low for a year, having too many enemies who'd benefit from his newfound weakness, and ignored all contact from the rest of the Seven.
He'd assumed Noemi had returned to the military. She'd been the only one of the Seven who wasn't affiliated with the mafia, and wasn't starstruck by the Vongola Family's power. They had trust. But why was she working with CEDEF?
"They promised to remove your curse," he answered his own question flatly. Because Timoteo had offered him the same thing.
Lal Mirch remained impassive as she observed the bags under his eyes and the blood on his hands. "It is impossible for an Arcobaleno to survive without allies," she said. "I am certain you understand this by now."
Reborn laughed mirthlessly. "If the Vongola believes that sanctuary is what I am seeking, then they are mistaken."
"It is merely your pride that inhibits progress. We want to help you, Reborn."
"Yet if I was standing here alone, you would not hesitate to shoot," he responded sardonically. "Tell me - have you ever killed a child?"
"Back away or we will open fire," a blonde agent with violet eyes and round spectacles cut in. Reborn had seen her by Sawada Iemitsu's side during meetings. A more senior agent. They'd probably put Lal Mirch in charge just for show, in hopes that he could be swayed by a former ally.
Reborn stared back at the woman who'd been his partner on countless missions. Her alliance with Sawada Iemitsu disgusted him. He wanted to tear it apart, even if he had to twist his words. So that she would understand.
"What your boss hasn't told you is that this was never a mission to retrieve the last heir of the Vongola," he finally said. "If it had been so, Sawada Iemitsu would have come himself. He's the only one who has a chance against me."
"Our mission is classified and does not concern you," Lal Mirch replied.
"Surely you are wondering why I killed Timoteo's sons. But the question is who. Who would have benefited the most? Who could have possibly had enough influence to contract the greatest hitman in the world for the job?"
"That is beside the point."
"Oh, I'm sure filicide was a last resort. Your boss offered his son's Sky Flames to Timoteo in exchange for his wife and son to be spared. It was a plea of loyalty, to prove he had no intention of interfering with succession matters. But if Sawada Iemitsu had never sealed his son's Flames, as he had so claimed, then his loyalty to the Family is questionable."
In front of him, Sawada Tsunayoshi trembled. Reborn pressed the barrel of the gun against the Vongola heir's temple, smirking bitterly as the agents tensed. The child whimpered at his killing intent and struggled against his hold.
And then the Vongola heir calmed. When Sawada Tsunayoshi raised his head, his eyes were brilliant amber. Traces of the Sky Flame flickered on his forehead, almost invisible but real.
Shock momentarily crossed Lal Mirch's features. Reborn smirked at her bitterly. "You are no longer working on the side of the law," he told her grimly. "There is no good side, but rather which evil you would rather side with."
The blonde agent stepped in front of Lal Mirch, one hand on her earpiece and the other wielding a firearm. "Boss' orders to eliminate both targets confirmed," she said. "Shoot on my command."
As the guns repositioned, Reborn threw the grenade and opened fire.
He remained on the road until the sun descended into darkness. Adrenaline and determination were his oldest allies, fuelling him to keep going. He felt like he'd gone to hell and back, but Reborn welcomed the pain. It forced alertness, and awareness of his surroundings would decide whether he made it out of Japan alive.
There was no doubt Sawada Iemitsu had sent another team his way. Even the cops were probably after him. After CEDEF's illusionists had gone down, the motel's security were bound to notice the damage his room had taken and the dozens of corpses lying outside the back exit. And Reborn had absconded around the same time another guest's car had gone missing.
It wasn't easy to steal cars in broad daylight, or to walk around public with a bloodied face and clothes. So Reborn had driven for hours straight, keeping an eye out for pursuers. By the time the fuel tank was hazardously low, he was in a small town in the middle of nowhere. A stroke of luck had brought him to a petrol station right on the side of the road.
Biting back a wince, Reborn slipped on his jacket and staggered out of the car. "I'll be back," he said quietly.
He was answered by the rustling of leaves in the wind, mingling with the low droning of petrol-filling tanks. It unnerved him. Reborn reflexively shot glances behind his back whilst he filled the car's tank, as if mafiosi or cops would materialise on the bare road. As if they'd shoot the windows in and find a child in the backseat, along with the firearms and ammo he'd salvaged.
It worsened as he went into the store to pay for the fuel and another cup of takeaway coffee. The trees outside swayed to the wind, their movement almost human-like. It drove his instincts insane. By the time the store clerk had processed his purchases, Reborn was bristling.
Then he paused. "Got a phone here?" he asked. He'd disposed of his back at the motel, after having deduced that they had used his phone to track him down.
A stubby finger pointed at one of the windows, where a telephone booth stood beside a tree, not too far from his car. Returning a brusque nod of thanks, Reborn hurried out of the store.
His gut clawed and constricted as he approached the telephone. He hesitated for a moment before pressing in the numbers on the metal keypad. Coins dropped into the machine. Reborn closed his eyes.
This call would change everything. He could still turn back, to kill the Vongola heir and return to his personal mission. His job here was almost done. Even Sawada Iemitsu had no problem ordering CEDEF to kill his own son...
Yet that was precisely why the child was still with him. Reborn understood what it was like to be the son of a wicked man who wanted him dead. And when Sawada Tsunayoshi had cried himself to sleep after the fight with CEDEF, Reborn had barely hesitated to take him far away from his father's men.
The line on the other side connected, snapping him back to attention. "Hello?" a familiar voice answered.
"Shamal," Reborn began, wallowing in self-loathing and shame. Surely he'd regret this when his mind cleared up after some rest. "Shamal, it's Reborn. I think I need a favour…"
The safe house was exactly the way he'd left it before his trip to Japan. Reborn took comfort in that as he closed the doors behind him and sank into the plush velvet sofa. A small smile curved on his lips when he felt the outline of a gun beneath the cushion.
"Where are we?" Tsunayoshi asked quietly, examining the interiors. "I don't know this place."
"Home," Reborn answered simply. He stretched his legs across the sofa and silently counted to ten. He'd wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet after the drama at the airport, but he knew this talk was inevitable. It was best to get it over and done with anyway, before things escalated further.
As expected, confusion spread across the child's face. "But we're not in Namimori."
"No, we're not," Reborn agreed. "What do you remember?"
He figured he'd start from there. Tsunayoshi had been unconscious for most of the time anyway, perhaps a side effect from using his Sky Flames. He wouldn't be surprised if the trauma of witnessing his deceased mother and a mass gunfight had messed with his memories either.
"I was watching 'Titanic' with Mama." The child scrunched up his face, as if struggling to recall something. Then he narrowed his eyes and took a step back. "Mama said not to talk to strangers."
Reborn returned a sarcastic laugh. "Well, you're not very good at listening to her, are you?" Not that Reborn was the one to judge. "What happened after the movie?"
Tsunayoshi continued to eye him warily. "I brushed my teeth and went to bed. That's all I remember."
Well. If the child was an amnesiac, it certainly made things easier. In fact, the less he knew, the better. "Then why do you think you're here?" Reborn asked, just to confirm Tsunayoshi wasn't withholding knowledge.
"Did you...kidnap me?" Panic momentarily flooded the child's features. Yet he didn't seem to believe this. He was free to move, and the door was right behind him. All of Reborn's limbs were in plain view and his weapons were concealed. "Mister...who are you?"
"I am the one who saved you."
"I want to go home. Back to Mama." Tsunayoshi appeared as if he was about to cry. "Mister, could you please take me back to Namimori?"
Reborn stifled a yawn. "Your passport is in my bag. Front pocket. Suit yourself." He mentally debated whether he should just tell the child a modified version of what had happened. His mother had fallen ill and died in her sleep. Reborn was his mother's friend. Something like that.
Tsunayoshi unzipped the bag and withdrew their passports. He set one down and frowned at the other. "That's not my passport. The family name is wrong. What's 'Sinclair'?"
"My name. Courtesy of our friend. Figured you wouldn't want the same name as the man who wants you dead."
"Papa? He was there? Where is he? Can I see him?"
"Only if you have a death wish." Reborn's patience was wearing thin. Goddamn it, he just wanted to get some sleep and deal with this later. Tsunayoshi was slow-witted and explaining things to him was painful. "He tried to kill you. And he would have succeeded, if I wasn't there."
"But he's my Papa. Why would he want to kill me?"
"The same reason he had your mother killed. To save his own skin." Reborn cringed at his choice of words. He'd never been great with children. "Sawada Iemitsu is a murderer. A bad person. Adults are bad people."
"Just like you?"
Oh god, the questions. Reborn wasn't sure who he wanted to shoot more - the child or himself. "I saved you," he hissed. He removed his jacket, revealing his bloody shirt and wounds across his chest that he'd sustained during the fight. Shamal's contact had given him first aid back at the airport, but the scars would remain. "Do you understand?"
Tsunayoshi had fallen silent. "The motel," he whispered, all colour draining from his face. "You were there. There were lots of people, with guns, and there was so much blood-"
"Finally you remember something," Reborn snapped. "You see, I would have killed you myself because it is already fucking hard being a fugitive and your presence does not do me any favours, but I've stood in your shoes and know what it's like to lose everything, so I'm trying to help you. You can go back to your mother's corpse if you want, but I just told you that there are people out there who want you dead. And you're delusional if you think you can trust the police because they're on the mafia's payroll."
The was a retching sound and vomit drizzled from the child's mouth, staining the front of his clothes and the Persian carpet. Reborn slammed his own head onto the sofa's armrest, once again counting to ten, and sighed.
The Three Hitmen was a bar restaurant that sprang to life at sunset. Despite its foreboding name, it was the gem of a long populated street, and flaunted a garden shed complete with wooden stalls of fresh bread and lemonade. The place glowed with warmth and the breeze carried the dulcet fragrance of jasmines.
Reborn had been to many bars in this area. Bars where the mafia sealed contracts over wine whilst basking in cigar smoke, blood money and cheap whores. As a general rule, Reborn never let his guard down around those places and always came heavily armed.
"Sorry I'm late," Shamal said, as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "Terrible traffic in Palermo as usual. I tried calling but you're disconnected."
Shamal set down two takeaway coffees onto the table. Reborn took one gratefully. "Apologies. CEDEF can now trace the location of phones through GPS, so I got rid of mine."
"I have a replacement for you. Untraceable, and with internet," Shamal replied, sliding over a package. Then mischief danced in his eyes. "How's the little one?"
Reborn internally groaned. It was a miracle that Tsunayoshi was still alive. He had knocked over a cabinet this morning, revealing his hidden knife collection. Reborn had basically spent the entire morning re-hiding his weapons in his own home, and it had annoyed him immensely.
He didn't say any of that to Shamal though. After a long pause, Shamal raised his palms in the air. "Alright, that's your business. I won't ask any more questions. Although if your morals have changed, it is my business to know."
"What's the job?" Reborn asked.
Shamal leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a whisper. "My client has put a contract out on his boss and his boss' immediate relatives. Twenty grand for the four - the boss, the wife and their infant son and daughter."
"That's an interesting request," Reborn mused. "Twenty-five grand."
"Reborn, I understand that money is an issue, but this is the highest price my client is willing to pay. Anything under twenty grand will force me to find another hitman for the job."
"The higher the price, the greater your cut," Reborn argued. "Besides, how many of your contacts are willing to assassinate women and children?"
"One of my female assassins could do it. Twenty grand - ten upfront and ten upon completion - and I'll have Tsunayoshi's legal papers ready as soon as you're back."
Reborn finished the last of his coffee. "Brief me," he finally answered. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Most of his former contacts refused to do business with him after the Vongola's sanctions, so Reborn could no longer afford to be picky.
"Makoto Kozato is an art dealer who specialises in rare paintings," Shamal said after appraising Reborn thoughtfully. He slid a thick yellow envelope across the table. "The paintings would have generated substantial revenue for the Vongola through taxes, but when their collectors harassed Makoto Kozato to cough up, he spat in their eyes and killed them. Then he took his paintings and fled to Japan with his family."
"I've never heard of him," Reborn commented, going through the documents. "Demonstrating aggression towards the Vongola in his position would be suicide."
"Unbeknownst to him, Makoto Kozato's right hand has ratted him out. I met him last week, and he spoke of Kozato's bizarre vendetta against the Vongola that has lasted for ten generations. My client has expressed a desire to do business with the Vongola, but the Vongola is only interested in speaking with their boss. Unfortunately for him, Kozato cannot be swayed."
"Once I eliminate the boss, your client will presumably seize control and attempt to negotiate a lucrative deal with the Vongola," Reborn said with a frown. "The Vongola would benefit. Surely you understand that my current position is against the Vongola."
Shamal shot him an annoyed glare. "My client has persuaded Kozato to return to Italy to auction off a Cézanne painting later this week. The Vongola's already aware of that, and Timoteo and Iemitsu want to hear the reasons behind his grudge. You can expect at least a team of undercover CEDEF agents at the auction."
"And surely you do not expect me to quietly sit by while my enemies are right in front of me."
"I merely agreed to have Kozato and his family eliminated," Shamal answered with a nonchalant shrug. "If a rogue hitman shows up and goes on a killing spree, there is little I can do."
"Except they would blame Kozato, which might just affect my pride and moral right to take all the credit," Reborn retorted. "Makoto Kozato is nobody. There is no guarantee that the Vongola would do anything about it."
"Spread a few rumours and soon the Vongola will have to do something about it. And when word gets out that Kozato and family have been iced, there is clearly one person they would attribute the blame to."
"Iemitsu." The Vongola's External Advisor wasn't in the best position these days, especially after widespread allegations that he wished to take over the Vongola despite having relinquished his rights to inherit the Family. The very existence of Tsunayoshi, who could have been a tool to fulfil Iemitsu's ambitions, and the fact that he still had his Sky Flames would have created a rift between Iemitsu and Timoteo.
"I do hope you realise that you are double-crossing your client, although I have no qualms with that," Reborn said half-jokingly. An additional attack on CEDEF would cripple Iemitsu's position further, especially after Iemitsu had lost a team back in Japan. It would be humiliating for him and the Vongola, and their 'retaliation' would be seen as bullying the weak.
"Our agreement is completely bona fide," Shamal replied, calmly sipping his coffee. "I intend to protect my client's life. For the right price."
Reborn narrowed his eyes. "You want the paintings. That's the only reason why you agreed to take on this job for such little pay."
Shamal was unapologetically smug. "And you get the opportunity to put a dent into Iemitsu and the Vongola's reputations. It's mutually beneficial. There is also no need to go to Japan this time."
It was just like Shamal to already know exactly what he'd been up to in Japan. "Surely there are more efficient and effective ways to achieve the same outcome," Reborn retorted, tucking the folder into his bag. "Why did you specifically involve the Vongola?"
When Shamal responded, there was an twinge of melancholy in him. "I am very aware of your vendetta against the Vongola," he said. "You saved my life, Reborn. This is the least I can do."
Reborn spent the rest of the night pouring over the documents Shamal had given him, whilst Tsunayoshi slept in the spare room. From the looks of it, nothing significant had happened during his absence. With a sigh, Reborn made a mental note to buy some clothes and educational materials for the child.
The next afternoon, as he was checking maps for sniping spots, the doorbell rang. Reborn approached cautiously, keeping his CZ75 behind his back, while Tsunayoshi hid behind the sofa.
The peep hole revealed a woman with long silver hair, carrying a cake. It was Miss Lavina, who lived next door with her labrador, and Reborn was on friendly terms with her. It was part of blending in with civilians and keeping his cover as an innocuous public servant.
"Ciao, Renato!" Lavina greeted, kissing his cheeks. "I saw you returning home last night, and with a child! How are you?"
It was tempting to outright deny the presence of a child. But Tsunayoshi was probably going to stay with him for at least a while. It would be abnormal to hide him from their neighbours, who were all civilians the last time Reborn checked.
So he smiled at Lavina and told her he'd just returned from a emotional trip to Japan because of a family emergency, and now he had custody of a child he had never met until days earlier. He invited her inside and introduced her to his 'son', who maintained a puzzled expression due to language barriers.
"Oh I'm so sorry," Lavina said, hugging the child. "It must have been very hard for you."
"He was raised by his mother in Japan, but I'm sure he'll pick up Italian fairly quickly," Reborn replied, giving Tsunayoshi a sideways glance.
"That's okay, I can speak a little Japanese," she said, quickly switching to the language for the child's benefit. "He's a beautiful boy. He's about the same age as Hayato. I still have some of his clothes and toys at my place. I can give them to Tsunayoshi, if that's alright with you."
"I would be so grateful," Reborn answered. He'd almost forgotten that she had a son. The child lived with his father in another part of Palermo, if he could recall correctly. "How are things on your end, Lavina?"
"I still teach piano and perform in recitals from time to time. Oh! I could teach Tsuna - perhaps he'll love it just like Hayato!"
Tsunayoshi was gazing at her with wonder, awestruck by her beauty and motherly aura.
"I think he'd like that," Reborn said, ruffling the child's fluffy brown hair. "I'm afraid it's too late to enrol him in school, so he has a lot of free time. I was going to buy some books and cassette tapes and homeschool him for a while."
"You are a busy man, Renato. If you need help looking after Tsuna, I live right next door. I also have some of Hayato's old books so I could teach him Italian."
That wasn't a bad idea. It appeared that the two had taken a strong liking to each other. Having Lavina babysit Tsunayoshi on days when he had work would definitely lighten the load on his shoulders.
They sat down to discuss their arrangement. Reborn was happy to send Tsunayoshi over to Lavina's house. He insisted on paying her for her time and for educating the child, which wasn't going to be an easy task.
"I like her," Tsunayoshi said with a giggle after she'd left. "She's pretty."
"You'll be seeing her often," Reborn told him. "Would you like some of Lavina's cake?"
"Yes!" Tsunayoshi leapt up from the sofa and ran towards the kitchen with more enthusiasm than Reborn had ever seen in him. As he neared, he suddenly tripped over thin air and sent the table - along with the cake - crashing down.
Reborn covered his face with his hand as the child wailed out his apologies. Again. He really needed to send someone to clean the carpets before the stains became permanent. Tsunayoshi's clumsiness was bordering ridiculous.
Rolling his eyes, Reborn went to grab the dustpan. "You're going to clean this up," he said, handing it over to the child. "This will be your first lesson - taking responsibility for your actions."
On the night Reborn was to complete his hit on Makoto Kozato and his family, Tsunayoshi abruptly came down with a high fever. Reborn was about to leave the house when he'd caught sight of the child ghastly pale and trembling on the floor. And not for the first time in the past three days, Reborn wanted to shoot the child and rid himself of this growing headache.
It was a quarter to six, just over an hour before the auction commenced. Reborn glanced at his car from the window. It would take about an hour to drive to the city with the current traffic. The preparations for this job had already been made, but the timing was crucial.
Tsunayoshi sneezed, spraying thick mucus onto the cherrywood furniture. He whimpered as he wiped his face with his sleeves. Reborn turned his head away, half disgusted and half concerned that he might catch whatever illness the child had developed. After a lengthy exhale, he set down his bags and moved the burning child onto the sofa.
A snotty hand wiped a slimy trail down his suit. Reborn gritted his teeth in frustration as he wiped it off with his handkerchief. The wall clock read five-forty-seven. He needed to leave now.
"Mama, where are you?" Tsunayoshi mumbled, his eyes rheumy and unfocused. "Papa?"
The car keys dug into the palm of Reborn's hand. Annoying. The child had to act up just before he left for work. An important job Reborn had already delayed on because he was still recovering from his first encounter with CEDEF in Japan. Which he could have entirely avoided if he'd killed Tsunayoshi on the same night he'd killed Sawada Nana.
"Don't go. Please." The child's voice had lowered to a meek whisper. So pitiful. So annoying. In that moment, Reborn felt nothing but contempt for him.
When it was ten to six, Reborn gathered his bags. "There's a white bottle in the medicine cabinet. Take half a pill and go to sleep," he said, his tone devoid of emotion. "I will be back by morning."
Reborn had men to kill tonight, and had an opportunity to get back at the Vongola. Tsunayoshi was nothing but the son of his enemy, and it wouldn't matter if he died - in fact, things would just return to the way they used to be, before they became complicated.
Tsunayoshi was screaming as the door shut behind him. Reborn dropped his bags into the car and gunned the engine, not once looking back.
The first thing Reborn did upon arriving at the Sacco di Lusso hotel was to hijack the control room. He sneaked up on the guards and silently knocked them out with syringes to the neck, before destroying the security tape recorder. Then he joined the gathering crowd in the function room, taking a flute of champagne and conversing with a balding professor about art curatorship.
It wasn't difficult to identify the twelve CEDEF agents at the auction. They moved in pairs and observed the guests with their typical sharp and calculating gazes. Reborn lured them individually into an isolated area with subtle distractions, before slitting their throats. Then he crammed their bodies into a sealed off elevator and butchered them until their blood dripped from the top floor all the way to the basement.
He wiped the blood off his skin and returned to the function room, where he joined an argument over whether Cézanne's 'The Card Players' was better than 'The Bathers.' Makoto Kozato emerged shortly after the auction's opening speech with his wife, who was Reborn's second target. Their children were not in sight.
The bidding commenced at eight. Reborn placed in several bids for the sake of it, internally shaking his head at how these people were willing to pay millions for a rolled piece of canvas. But outwardly, he played the role of a French philanthropist with a mission to educate Europe on the beauty and elegance of classical art, in memory of his late grandfather.
To them, he was Renato Sinclair. Not Reborn and never Reborn, because that was the name of a traitor, and one did not do business with a traitor. Nonetheless, Reborn longed for the day when he could use his name again. It was a significant part of his identity that he'd lost to the Vongola, and one which he absolutely intended to take back.
When the opportunity arose, Reborn brushed past the Kozato couple and discreetly switched their hotel keys. The hotel's name and suite number were conveniently etched on the face of the key. Without further ado, Reborn left the Sacco di Lusso and got back onto the road.
By eight-forty, Enma and Mami Kozato were dangling from the ceiling with necklaces of rope. By ten, their parents had joined them. Their corpses swayed before the open window, a hole in each chest pooling crimson onto the carpet. Beneath them lay their fallen bodyguard, who had never stood a chance against the world's greatest hitman.
The first sign of trouble when Reborn returned to his house was that the lights were on. It was almost midnight, and way past Tsunayoshi's bedtime. Biting down his growing sense of dread, Reborn flung open his door and marched towards the living room, his gun already drawn.
"You have three seconds before I shoot," Reborn growled, firing a warning shot into the ceiling.
A silver haired woman was seated at his coffee table, holding Tsunayoshi in her arms. At the sound of the gunshot, she visibly paled.
"It'll be okay, Tsuna. The police will be here soon," Lavina whispered, shielding the child's body with her own. She made gentle sounds to calm him down. "You'll be safe with them."
Reborn narrowed his eyes. "Safe?" he echoed, his voice dripping with venom. "This is my house. You have no right to be here."
He didn't need to ask for what had happened. One of the paintings on his walls had been lifted, revealing his gun collection. His Hardballer was on the table beside the telephone. Rage roared through Reborn's head as he rounded on Tsunayoshi. Iemitsu's little devil had ratted him out, and Reborn should have fucking known.
"You have no right to be a father," Lavina spat at him, her glare mirroring his own. "You left a sick child on his own. Your negligence could have killed him!"
"Kill, you say?" Reborn sneered. "Do you know how many people I have killed with the gun in my hand? Do you know how many children I've killed?"
"You are a sick bastard," she hissed. "Shoot me then. Kill me. But let the child go. He deserves that much for everything you've taken from him."
It became clear that she was risking her own life to stall Reborn long enough for the cops to arrive. Even so, they had only sent two officers and Reborn had five bullets to spare. They fell quickly, and when Reborn turn back to Lavina, she had his Hardballer pointed at his chest.
He instinctively grabbed her wrist and jerked it backwards, forcing the weapon to the ground. There was a loud crack as her bones popped. Before she could scream, Reborn covered her mouth and kicked the gun out of the way.
"If you ever want to see your son again, get away from here," he hissed. "Forget everything you saw tonight. Tsunayoshi will live. Do you understand?"
She nodded and gave Tsunayoshi a pained look before running out of the house, clutching her injured arm. Five minutes later, her car left driveway, only to crash onto the side of the street.
Reborn poured himself a glass of whiskey and drank to his twentieth kill that night.
"You smell like an abattoir, minus the preservatives," Shamal remarked as Tsunayoshi was being treated by his mosquitoes. "Are you sure you don't have any wounds you want me to examine?"
Reborn shook his head. He was fine, just exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for a solid twelve hours, but there was still plenty to do. Like cleaning up the corpses. "I thought you only treated women," he muttered.
"You have helped me obtain one of the rarest art collections in the world, my friend," Shamal replied with a wink. He set down a duffel bag beside the sofa and unzipped it, revealing wads of cash. The other ten grand of his payment. "That entitles you to at least a few favours, I think."
"Some coffee would be nice," Reborn answered sleepily. "And a shower. But we need to leave this town before they start searching for the dead cops."
"I've put the entire neighbourhood to sleep with my mosquitoes. They won't remember a thing. I've also dealt with the cops at the local station before getting here."
"Thank you," Reborn said quietly. Bless Shamal, always several steps ahead. Beside him, Tsunayoshi was already looking a lot healthier. And after what had felt like weeks, Reborn exhaled a sigh of relief.
"Don't hate on the child too much, even if he is Iemitsu's spawn," Shamal continued, "Tsunayoshi may have revealed a thing or two your line of work to your neighbour, but he wasn't in the right state of mind. I've vaccinated him though, so he shouldn't fall sick anytime soon."
"Good. He wiped his snot all over me and now my nose feels stuffy."
Shamal rolled his eyes. "I've vaccinated you too, obviously."
"A doctor usually asks for permission before administering vaccinations, you know," Reborn retorted. "But then again, you were also a hitman once."
"Trust me, it's better being a handler," Shamal said with a snort. "One more thing - when the child wakes, he won't remember any of this. Nothing about his past either. Think of it as a gift."
"I'm starting to think there are strings attached, Shamal."
"There will always be strings attached, my friend. That is how we stay in business. But I heard you saved the kid's life after Iemitsu gave the kill order. There's a common interest between the two of you already. You can use that to your advantage."
Reborn almost laughed. "He doesn't speak a word of Italian and you are already thinking of turning him into a weapon to destroy the Vongola."
"Those are your words, not mine. I was merely referring to emotional support," Shamal answered, faking innocence. "I will drop by after you relocate, and keep you updated."
"You take care," Reborn said, and he meant it. "Try to not spend all your newfound wealth on women."
Shamal flipped him the finger and the two of them burst into laughter.
The next morning, Tsunayoshi stirred shortly after Reborn had finished packing his weapons into large empty cases. For a long minute, he wordlessly stared at Reborn, uncomprehending, and with a hundred questions clearly flickering through his mind.
Reborn crossed his legs on the carpet and adjusted his position so that he was eye-level with the child. "My name is Renato Sinclair," he introduced in Japanese, pointing to himself. "Your name is Tsunayoshi. We are in my house in Palermo. That is a city in Italy. Your mother is gone and your father tried to kill you, so I will be taking care of you from now on."
The child eyed the stacks of cases Reborn was about load into the car. "Are you leaving?" he asked.
"We are leaving," Reborn replied. "But there are a few things we must attend to first. Turn around, Tsunayoshi. What do you see?"
The two cops were still there from last night. Thankfully they'd dropped onto the marble flooring in the hallway, rather than on the well-abused carpet. Shamal had offered to send in cleaners, but Reborn hadn't wanted anyone else entering his house, where there were too many secrets to be kept.
"Are they dead?" Tsunayoshi asked, frowning at the pools of blood beneath the bodies.
"They are quite dead, yes," Reborn agreed. "What do you think we should do about them?"
Tsunayoshi gulped. "Call the police?"
"They are the police," Reborn said, rolling his eyes. "Here's a hint - what do you do when there is a mess?"
"Uh...clean it up?"
Reborn ruffled the child's brown hair. "That's correct, Tsunayoshi. We must take responsibility for our actions. So we are going to clean up the blood and dispose of the bodies where nobody will find them."
Tsunayoshi appeared bemused, but to be fair, that was probably one of the most fucked up things a child would ever hear from an adult. Reborn wondered if Shamal had done anything else to the child's mind other than wiping his memory. Tsunayoshi seemed awfully calm.
"Okay, I'll help," the child said in a small voice. "I don't want anyone to take you away."
"Good. I want you to fill the plastic tub with water and fetch me the towels," Reborn said. "I will handle the chemicals. Don't touch anything in those bottles - they will burn you without gloves."
It later occurred to Reborn that cleaning up dead bodies with a five year old was probably very fucked up. But then again, Reborn was most definitely a fucked up person, and the only thing he could do was to make the most out of the situation - to give Tsunayoshi a purpose, and to teach him skills so he could become untouchable. And the child could then do as he wished with his life.
After the floors were scrubbed clean and the bodies were packed and stuffed in the boot of his car, Tsunayoshi commented out of the blue that his name was too long and wanted it shortened to 'Tsuna.'
"Tsuna," Reborn corrected, his smile almost affectionate as they drove away from Palermo, and towards a new town. Nicknames were a sign of bonding, and this was going to be a long and strange relationship indeed. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Tsuna. Welcome home."