Author's Notes: Written for khrfest. I suggest reading it through more than once as the style might make it difficult to understand on a first read.
Ten Seconds Before Sunrise
Alcyone23
Long after his mother sang him asleep, (a myth, she'd said, her mother taught her), an odd scuffling noise filtered into the room. Giotto raised his head from the pillow, blinking sleep from his eyes. The sounds continued. Pushing the covers off of him, he padded barefoot to the door. With a hand running across the smooth wall, he followed the hall to the large staircase. Peeking through the balusters, he noticed five shadows in the sitting room downstairs. Two he recognized as his parents.
"Through here," he heard his father's deep baritone say.
"Don't worry," his mother spoke next. Her tone was gentle. "It will all return in the end."
"Mama?" At Giotto's call, all sounds died. His mother stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Seconds before the door met the frame, Giotto noticed a bookcase swing silently away from the wall.
"Giotto?" she asked, peering up at him. "What are you doing awake?"
"I heard noises." He sank slightly. He felt like he'd done something that could displease his parents.
His mother climbed the stairs, her slippered feet barely making any noise. She sat on the step beside him, gathering him close to her. "What did you hear?"
"Who are they?" Giotto crawled into her lap. "Those people with Papa?"
"They're people who need help," she said carefully.
"Why?"
"They…are different," she said softly. "And others tried to hurt them."
"But why?" The child blinked. "Did they do something bad?"
"No, they haven't. But some people are afraid of what is different. The world can be a scary place sometimes. It has been scary to them."
"Is there a monster chasing them?" Giotto whispered.
"Unfortunately." Giotto jumped in his mother's embrace. His father climbed the steps toward them. "But it can't find them as long as we never tell anyone where they are. Can I trust you, Giotto? You cannot tell anyone anything, even if they tell you your mother or I give permission. Can you promise me that?"
Giotto nodded.
"Such a brave boy." His mother hugged him. His father ruffled the boy's yellow hair.
"Go back to sleep. You need the rest."
Alessandro ignored his Sun Guardian.
"Boss?" The man stepped forward.
"I heard you the first time," Alessandro replied drily.
"I wish you would listen once in a while," the man responded.
Alessandro smirked. "I haven't killed them yet, have I?"
"Thank God for small miracles," the Sun Guardian muttered under his breath. Alessandro heard.
"Leave me," he ordered. He heard a sigh before there was a shuffle of feet toward the door. When he heard it close, Alessandro sank into a chair. He passed a hand over his eyes, heavy with exhaustion. From his pocket, he removed a woman's locket. When he flipped it open, a whimsical tune filtered through the air. The lullaby matched his sister.
"The sun wanted a child, but didn't have a beloved to wed…"
Drunk on the music, he smiled. He could almost pretend Elena was still with him. When the song ended, he closed the locket softly and pocketed it. He took it out again the next morning after withdrawing a fist drenched in orange flames from the chest of the man who killed her. He allowed the soft tune to filter through the air saturated with blood and screamed. He smiled.
"The sun wanted a child, but didn't have a beloved to wed…"
Unbidden, the lullaby came to Vicenzo's mind. Why he wasn't sure. The words on the document in front of him blurred. Details of acts of defiance. Money that wasn't being paid. Favors that weren't being returned. He knew perfectly well why. His predecessor cast too long a shadow. The man had been impossible to fool or defy as those who opposed him learned when they saw his Flames of Fury for the first and last time.
Vicenzo didn't have the First's charisma or the Second's force. He knew the only thing keeping the other families from openly revolting was the prestige and terror the Vongola name still held. The Vongola had risen to power incredibly quickly. Many were jealous and resentful.
Vicenzo leaned back in his chair, watching the shadows chasing each other on the ceiling.
Giotto formed the Family. Alessandro expanded it. Vicenzo would hold it together, through word or bullet or the edge of a knife.
He would do whatever was necessary for the Family.
This, however, certainly hadn't figured into his contemplations.
No, that wasn't entirely true, Edoardo mused as he observed the lovely hue of his wine. Betrayal was unsurprising in his position and in his business. Expected almost. His knife sank through the tender meat. He speared the portion he separated with his fork. Except he hadn't considered that it would be one of his hand-chosen that would be aiming to kill him. Of course, he wound the fork in the angel hair pasta and lifted it to his mouth, it wasn't something new. This type of betrayal had only skipped two generations. He took a sip of his wine, relishing the exquisite taste. Besides, his Lightning Guardian had always been too accommodating.
Edoardo didn't turn as he felt movement behind him. Instead, he lifted the empty fork.
"This veal is fantastic," he said. "It'd be a pity if it went to waste. One of the two will have to finish it."
As he scraped the last of the sauce off the plate, Edoardo poured himself another glass of wine. He raised it in a toast to a sun on the tapestry hanging across the far wall.
"Excellent year."
Tiziano smirked. "Did you expect any different?"
His Cloud Guardian shook his head. He took another sip of the wine. "Not really."
Silence enveloped them. The tick of the clock in the study seemed abnormally loud.
"I heard the news today," the other said. "Congratulations."
"I don't want to talk about my wife or child."
"You want some wine?"
"I don't want a drink."
"Then what do you want?" There was the barest hint of a knowing smile curling his Guardian's lips.
Tiziano grasped him by the shirt and dragged him close.
"To lose," he whispered against the other's lips.
"You got your wish." The voice seemed to come from far away.
Tiziano opened his eyes. He could feel the warmth of his blood on his chest, the ragged pain just under his neck. His guardians surrounded him, as well as other members of the family. His wife knelt beside him, her face deathly white. But it wasn't her hand he reached for. Tiziano could feel his Cloud Guardian's fear in how tightly the man clutched his hand. What he wanted was his in the end.
"Didn't you know? You win when you lose."
"How is that possible?" Doubt lined his nephew's face.
Simon wiped his monocle clean. "There is no one who can do what we do. The position will destroy them. And we will have got rid of an annoyance to our Family."
"A certainty or family arrogance?"
"One would think you don't trust me." Simon chuckled.
"Sometimes I don't," the younger man replied flatly.
"Do you know why I allowed them to win?"
His nephew remained silent.
"Go outside. When a messenger arrives with a notice about the Pausini, let me know."
Although he remained incredulous, the younger man did as his uncle asked.
Simon stood and stepped toward a half-finished chess game in the corner.
"It will all return in the end," he whispered as he pushed a white pawn forward. "Everything returns in the end."
Just as he checkmated the white king, his nephew burst into the room.
"The Pausini's boss is dead!" he exclaimed. "Most of their family is under arrest."
Simon knocked over the white king. He smiled.
"Who won?"
The question passed from mouth to mouth like a rumor. Fabio waited for the smoke to clear and the dust to settle. When it did, two bodies were lying on the ground.
"Are they alive?" a man asked and Fabio almost shot him. Before they stepped forward, one stirred.
"Daniela. It's Daniela." The consigliere gasped.
His firstborn struggled to stand. A bullet's burn slashed across her left cheek. Her hands shook. She clutched her crossbow in her left. When she opened her right, her brother's half of the Vongola ring rested in her palm. Her Guardians ran forward to help her up. She leaned heavily against her Rain Guardian. The Storm Guardian took her crossbow from her hand.
Fabio motioned to the body of his son. The boy's Guardians moved slowly in their shock. He cleared his throat to hide the shaking of his voice. "Take him back to the house. Bathe him and dress him. We'll bury him on Sunday.
"Well?" He glanced at Daniela. "Join the rings."
She did so. When she held the complete ring in her hands, she looked up.
"According to the rules of this battle, you are officially my heir," Fabio declared. "You will be the Eighth Boss of the Vongola Family."
Shock. Anger. Hatred. Disbelief. Pain. All flickered across her face before her features grew impassive. Her hand clenched shut around the ring.
As he walked away, following his son's Guardians as they carried the man, he heard Daniela's voice on the wind.
"The sun wanted a child, but didn't have a beloved to wed. With a child of skin, tell me, sun, what do you pretend…?"
Fabio turned to see her collapse.
"Daniela!"
"My decision is final," she replied. She tapped a beat against the desk with her nails.
"But he won't tell us any more," her Rain Guardian said. Her other Guardians stood around.
"Then he's not necessary, is he?" She opened a drawer and removed a loaded gun kept inside. She strode past her Rain Guardian who quickly followed her. She stepped into the adjacent room and faced the man tied to a chair inside. Before he could react, she raised the gun and put a bullet through his head. The force of the blow made him fall backward. Blood sprayed the air.
"Boss, you didn't need to do that." Her Mist Guardian shook his head. "We can handle it."
She stepped toward him and patted him on the cheek. "Now what kind of boss would I be if I wasn't willing to dirty my hands for the family?"
After storing the gun again, she climbed the stairs out of the basement. The Guardians followed. She separated from them and walked to the back doors and the child pushing a truck in front of them.
"Mama!" Timoteo whined when he heard the click of her mother's steps. He ran to her. "You took too long."
"I'm sorry," Daniela apologized. "I was delayed. Ready to go out?"
"We can't." Timoteo crossed his arms in front of his chest. "It's raining."
"Oh?" It was then Daniela grew aware of the sound of water striking the roof and walls. When she opened the door, the air looked silver-grey through the rain. "I didn't know you were afraid of a little rain."
"I'm not afraid." Her son pouted.
"Oh, really?" she teased. "Catch me if you can then!" And she ran outside.
Timoteo gaped from the doorway for several long seconds before he cried, "That's not fair! You got a head start!"
Daniela laughed.
They ran in the mud and rain for so long Daniela lost track of the time. She finally sank against the step, utterly drenched and laughing. Timoteo jumped from puddle to puddle.
"I will never get over it."
"Get over what?" Daniela leaned her head back until her Rain Guardian came into view. The man grinned.
"How different you are with your son." Daniela smiled at his words.
"That boy is all that is good in me."
With an indecipherable smile, Timoteo bit the inside of his lip. "I saw three boys born into this world. And I saw all three buried."
He felt Iemitsu's hand close around his shoulder.
"Boss…"
"I'll survive, Iemitsu."
"I know you will, boss," the blond man replied. "You will remain strong for the Family." There was a slightly bitter edge.
"Thank you for remaining with me." Timoteo gently pushed Iemitsu's hand off his shoulder. "But I'd like to be alone now."
His consigliere nodded. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."
Timoteo nodded. He stood at the window as the door closed. He watched the changing colors of the sky. Toward the east, it was lightening ever so slightly.
His first two sons never really left. He could still feel them long after he set the flowers on their graves. He doubted the third would leave him. They remained forever with him, frozen at twenty-six, twenty-five and twenty.
"I'm a father." Present tense. He never stopped being their father. He was still father to a boy who was as much his as if they shared blood.
When he stepped outside of the office, Iemitsu sat in a chair. He jumped when he saw Timoteo.
"Boss—"
"When you return to Japan," Timoteo began, "let your boy know you love him."
Iemitsu smiled. "I will, boss."
Alone in his bedroom, Timoteo removed his jacket and collapsed into the bed still fully dressed.
He closed his eyes and dreamed.
It was all he could do. Inside a coffin, rehearsing death, there was nothing else except dreaming. Tsuna dreamt of his parents, of his father's fiascos and his mother's ready laugh. He dreamed of Kyoko and Haru and how stunning they were. He dreamed of Fuuta and I-Pin and Lambo, those kids who would remain his kids even as they grew taller and stronger. He dreamed of Bianchi and Shamal and all those other men and women he met because of the Vongola, who helped him and watched him grow. He dreamed of Ryohei and Hibari and Chrome and Mukuro and Yamamoto and Gokudera, his Guardians whom he never saw as guardians and who must be blaming themselves. He dreamed of a child-faced hit man whom he lost before he could even recognize what that loss was. He dreamed of the child he had been, of the children they had all been, and how everything would return in the end.
And he dreamed a song, a story in a lullaby, of a sun that desired a child yet could find no love to turn him human.
"With a child of skin, tell me, sun, what do you pretend…?"