Title: It's Different But It's Home

Author: PoisonApple911

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn

Genre: I'm not.. Very sure. Family and Friendship, maybe.

Warning: A bit disgusting (or maybe it's just because my friend's scared of blood.. Or it could be because of the fact that I wrote this in Biology class) and just a little hint of darkness.

Rating: T

It was a lovely day when 8-year-old Prince Belphegor woke up that noon. The world felt as if though it was at peace. So quiet, calm, gentle and seemingly unmoving. Though it does move. It stirs slower than the small breezes of wind that occasionally went by. The sun shone so brightly that the striking light went through the curtains. The weather was much finer than a mere shaded day on the day of a small soccer game. The sunlight across the skin that made you feel all warm and comfortable yet the cool made it tolerable to play out all day. And he hated that. He hated how the bright- no, how the blinding light woke him up – though it took a long time to do that seeing as he skipped brunch already. He hated how nice it is outside. It felt like the whole world was taunting him, mocking him, of what he did. He rather expected a rainstorm that could soak him in despair. But no, apparently, thunders and lightning and a downpour are all too good for this situation. Mother nature has decided to make him suffer by pulling a few strings and made everything seem nicer. Only so that he would feel even lower of what he did.

He just committed a crime last night. He made his first kill. No, he murdered his first five of what would become hundreds more. Victims. He made five casualties. And there was this nagging feeling that he would not stop at that number. Like he would continue doing this until who-knows-when. But his first five victims were his "family". They were his twin brother, his mother, his father, his uncle – the advisor, and that butler he'd disliked ever since they met. That butler seemed so convinced that his twin brother, who was only older by a few minutes, will be the future king.

His chest tightened, if that's even possible. But, up to this point in time, he was never really sure about the cause of his heartache. He knew it wasn't because he cared. It won't ever be something as petty as that. Maybe it was the aftermath of the momentary adrenaline rush. Or it could be the sensation after doing something so brutal for the first time in one's life. He will never know. So for now, he will just have to accept the only logical reason - it was a shock to his system that he did something so horrible.

He didn't mean to do what he did. Honest. It was an accident. At least it was one at first. His uncle, the one that he's held suspicions for so long, had proved how much his loyalty is. Which is none. An unworthy subject, Belphegor noted. Why his father chose him for the position just below the King and Queen's is still a mystery. It was clearly obvious his uncle was just pretending to be on their side.

The said advisor tried to poison the King in hopes of becoming the new ruler. That fact itself is not very surprising. He's shown envy through his facial features many times already and that tone he often uses that suggests that he could've done a better job in ruling the place rather than his brother. In fact, that wasn't his first attempt to get rid of the King but no one except Belphegor, and perhaps his brother and that cursed butler of his, knew that. His uncle once tried to use Ricin then Digoxin and even went as far as trying to sneak a cobra inside the royal chambers of the King but he failed every single one of his none-too-brilliant plans for different reasons (such as the guards finding the cobra and then burnt it). The last try, his uncle seemed to do it the easy way and tries to slip in a few drops to the Majesty's golden goblet. The amount of liquid was very minimum, only a small vial that can easily be hidden. Belphegor noted that the liquid was a dark shade of purple and it seemed to blur and blend with the wine.

Only a single thought crossed his mind: The play has started.

Little Prince Belphegor just quietly sat on his spot, still secretly polishing his knife under the long hooded cape that rested upon him. After all, no one would want an 8-year-old boy to play with such a sharp object. He just watched as the King lifted his cup towards his mouth. It was then that his older brother, though only by a few minutes, came bursting through the large double doors to the side and decided to become the hero. His godforsaken twin, Rasiel, stopped their oh-so-beloved father from proceeding with his act and then dramatically pointed a finger to their bewildered uncle. Then he told the story of how he "discovered" about their uncle's plans. That bloody butler just nodded his head at times and went through the whole thing without speaking a word.

It was then that their parents' shock turned to rage. At first, it was at the person who tried to kill them but somehow, along the way, the path twisted and the blame was turned on the young blonde. They realized halfway through their rant towards his uncle that Belphegor must've seen the action.

"You disgusting creature! The people who raised you were about to die and you just sat there while you could've done something!"

"Why did I ever give birth to you?! Why did I have to suffer for 9 months holding extra weight when you turned out to be so useless?!"

"Why did you even come out!? We were happy at that five minutes before you came along!"

Those insults. Shouts. Voices. They rang in his ears. Even the chirping of the bird perched at the bush next to the large opened window felt like it was too much for him to handle. Like being in-between two speakers on full volume. The throbbing was too much for him to handle. His head felt light yet it was like a thousand bricks were thrown at him. He can feel his blood flowing inside of him in its fastest pace. His heart beat wildly, his pulses pounded against his skin, his eyes were shut tightly, his breathing was ragged and he can't ignore the sensation he felt within him.

And the only thing he knew, or at least remembered, was that 10 minutes later, he stood in a pool of blood with five limp bodies around him. A knife was gripped tightly on his right hand and he realized, when he looked down, that his hands were covered with sticky, red liquid.

It was too much for him to take at that moment. He observed the pale figures lying on the cold marble floor. His father's mouth was agape and he didn't know where the King's fingers are. Perhaps they're those skin-colored spots scattered about? His uncle was practically beheaded, but it was hard to see with all the blood pouring out of his neck. Belphegor was almost sure that his uncle's tongue was cut off. And then his brother looked like a frozen statue, eyes wide and mouth set in a slightly open position. That horrid butler… Belphegor didn't know what to make of him anymore. His mother was the only one still intact. Maybe he took pity on her when he was in his killing spree. He can't recall it well. It was just a spur of the moment. All he could make out of the bits and pieces was a horrified screech that never came – his mother didn't have time to let out a scream. No one had time to do anything. But he made her death clean. Or at least neater than the others. She had no cuts, bruises, scars nor pain. But her wrist was bleeding slightly. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was in a straight line. After all, she had been the one to get little Bel have an interest in knives. Ironic, isn't it? The fact that the Queen had been the one teaching the princes about weapons?

Weapons.

Bel stared down at his precious blade that made this mess. Blood in a rich colour of red stained it. It was the same knife that he made a year ago, the one in which he spent about 6 months making it. He was never a patient one but it was all worth the effort. It was also his first knife. The inquisitive, intricate, and professionally detailed carvings made it looked like an antique – so grand, so majestic, so royal, so.. Him. He brandished it, raising it just slightly. And from the small clean bit the light from the crystal chandelier above him reflected on it, making a wicked glint.

He then absorbed a bit more of his surroundings as the haze in his mind cleared slightly. But the only thing he could process was that he had to get out of the throne room and go up to his bedroom. So he complied with whatever sanity he still have left. A few hours he waited and then the sun went down. But he was still on his bed, back against the wall and legs stretched out. It looked like he just flung himself on the silk bed. He did. His lazy posture was that of a drunken man from a bar. The tiara proudly lay on top of his head, tipping on the side yet it miraculously didn't fall. But considering of what he'd done just moments ago, it was best not to question him.

Then it happened.

A scream.

It was an ear-splitting, high-pitched, shriek that alerted people something bad has happened. Like when your mom comes into the bathroom and there's a cockroach, that kind of scream. After that came a loud crash – a priceless, irreplaceable, vase have shattered. And the next few seconds, he heard yells and heavy footsteps on the floor beneath him. He didn't have to worry; he's barricaded the way to his bedroom. Then silence. Nothing. Before something cracked. The little piece of plank, the bride to sanity, broke. He could hear so many noises at once, like being right in the middle of an ongoing gang battle, beneath a football stadium, and above a nuclear war. He can hear the horses whining. People probably realized the small prince did this mini royal massacre and decided to flee. He did put up a few lethal traps that can harm anyone who dare to try and approach his bedroom. He just slightly hoped that the joker didn't die – he quite liked the fellow, the comedian never seemed to die even after Belphegor and his twin tried to kill him a few times because of his annoying face, a rather frustrating task. His other personal favourites may be maimed too. Ah well, it cannot be helped.. Off with their heads.

Belphegor silently listened to the commotion happening. He hasn't shown any emotion ever since the afternoon incident regarding the death of his family. But at that moment, when he heard, when he really listened, to the chaos caused by him and his blade...

A small smirk appeared. Madness took over his whole thoughts. He remembered what it was like a few hours ago – standing in the middle of his creation his masterpiece. The first art he's ever made. And now that he thought about it. It was simply beautiful. Charming. Gorgeous. Outstanding.

His eyes, though none can see them, widened slightly with something akin to madness in them. His smirk turned into a huge grin. Something bubbly rose inside of him. It's an indescribable feeling. It made him feel so alive yet so dead because he couldn't feel any guilt. Yes, it felt good. It felt very good.

He broke out into loud laughter that sounded as sick as that of a serial killer's that got admitted into a mental hospital. His voice boomed through his large bedroom then echoed through the stone walls of the castle, through all the maze-like and similar-looking hallways and all of the secret chambers, even reaching to the deepest of the dungeons where torture weapons rested and rotten skeletons lie. He was absolutely sure that the whole kingdom would've heard his gleeful cackle had they not evacuated already. But he didn't care. He wanted everyone to hear his maniacal, sadistic, cruel laughter. He wanted everyone to know just how capable he is.

But the show's not over yet.

No, it's far from that. The main course, the entrée, the climax of the act. Just a few moments from now.

He waited and waited and-

!

"AAHH!" "SOMEONE HELP!" "PLEASE!" "RUN!"

He tilted his head, still laughing. Yes, that should do it. He is a genius after all. The villagers. They probably rigged up all the traps he put up in the hills – the only path to get to the woods and out of the kingdom's barriers. If the hundreds of blades or spiked holes or large feline beasts didn't work on all, then the burning red flames would incinerate the rest.

The cries of men, women, children. Their pleading. No one can do anything and they knew that as well as he does. His plan was fool-proof. And he set up this whole thing in a whim. It took everyone 4 hours just to realize about the king, queen, advisor, prince and butler. That was more than enough time for Belphegor to finish scripting the second half of the drama he put on instead of improvising like he did at the start. After all, if there's no mastermind to control this whole thing, where would the fun be?

He didn't know when he fell asleep amidst the chaos happening. But he opened his eyes to a very fine day. It was glorious. Splendorous. Fantastic. But he was not. And so, he packed up a few of his items in this commoner's backpack he didn't like very much (it was a gift from someone he deemed decent, though, so it was worth keeping). Clothes, notebook, pen and then a few items to polish his knives and silver crown and a map. He didn't bother going down the long staircase, he leaped off the floor, jumping over the railings, and let himself fall from the 5th story before landing perfectly. He took the containers filled with food and two bottles of soda from the table, which he also prepared, and shoved it inside his pack. The blonde strode over to the entrance and pushed open the large double doors. He walked forward casually, shoulders slouched, body leaned back, hands in pockets and head held high. He didn't flinch at the spots of blood he saw. He stopped. And slowly looked back at the large castle looming above him. That place held so many memories. Competing with his brother. Learning about things from his mother. Debating or "conversing" with his father. Arguing with nearly everyone. Ordering nearly everyone.

Emotions swirled inside of him. Anger. Relief. Satisfaction. Agony. The wish to have a family who cared. But there isn't a trace of regret nor guilt. Not a single bit. He won't miss this place, he was sure of it.

A little blue bird fluttered and he held his hand up, the little creature perched on his pointer finger.

And a thought struck 8-year-old Prince Belphegor as he remembered that last night he laughed when listening to the fallen kingdom that he single-handedly destroyed. As he looked back at the castle then turned towards the hill where he can see ruins and ashes. As he stared at the uncharacteristically mute bird.

He's a monster.

He would never stop doing this.

That was exactly 8 years ago.

Now he stood in front of another castle. It looked like it popped out of a fairytale. But it looked like the bad guy's palace instead of the good one what with the dark flags and that gloomy, unapproachable aura this place has. True to his predictions, so far, he hasn't stopped being insane. But it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In here, he was expected to be crazy. He wasn't pressured to be someone else. He stared at the sky and a bird flew by, chirping happily. The bird seemed so out of place here. But Belphegor didn't mind that fact. He felt like that bird. Soaring. Free.

Varia isn't the best company. They stab each other as pranks. They put each other in comas. They laugh at one when s/he's on the brink of unconsciousness. But they were individual. Each of them their own. Each of them an asset. And they had to train other asses- "assets" too. They were all important. And that meant something to all of them. Believe it or not, they have their stories too. Why would they be in some elite independent assassination squad working for a famiglia of the Italian mafia with the largest influence in the underground world if they all had pasts that are filled with unicorns, rainbows and sunshine? Let's be realistic. If they had a unicorn, they would slice the horn, use it as a weapon, stab its eyes and let the unicorn bleed to death.

And the rainbow would probably only appear because they forced the unicorn to puke rainbows before shaving its tail and skinning it.

And the only sunshine they would have is probably from a small LED light… Or maybe something they set on fire. Things tend to burn, explode and/or go 'poof' when they're around.

But the point is that the Varia is unique. Sure, you may have to be able to survive or you'll get kicked off (by getting killed). You may need to speak 7 languages. And you may have to endure a lot of physical (and mental) pain from the higher ups. But in all honesty, Bel never really had a place as accepting as the Varia (and that's effing messed up, if you ask me). They like to fudge up each other's minds, pull on their strings and see when they'll finally crack (which doesn't take too long) They're mischievous. They're violent. They're cruel. They're freaks. But they can always form a temporary alliance, team up, and kill the idiot dared to point out that last fact to them.

"Oi! Bel! Hurry up! I want to get back home from the mission as soon as possible!"

He turned to see his partner, Mammon, and nodded. He soon caught up with the rest of the team.

"You're being really quiet today," Lussuria commented. "Is there anything Luss-nee can help you with?"

"Ushishi~ maybe if you let me stab you…" Bel trailed off.

Squalo turned to the young blonde and barked at him, "VOI! You can't do that, brat! What if you get injured in battle?! That drag queen is our healer!"

Bel smirked. "Oya~ Commander Squalo's being grumpy today. Besides, I'm fine with seeing my own blood~!"

"No. No way in all seven demon princes we're named after am I going to let you do extra damage." Mammon said.

"Eh? Are you trying to glare at me?" The blonde said, laughing.

"Mu~! Bel~!"

The 16-year-old just picked the floating baby from the air and placed said baby on his shoulder.

"Don't be so noisy." Xanxus' voice cut through. One word from this guy is very, very, very recommended law to a bid. "Remember what date it is?"

"Oh? Of course!" Lussuria replied and he opened his mouth to speak again but he stopped as realization dawned on him. "Belphegor came knocking on our door at exactly 11.58 pm this day just 8 years ago.. Didn't he?"

Everyone turned to the ex-prince who shrugged. "Hm. The castle reminded me of my childhood place," He grinned.

"HUAA! It's Bel's anniversary! It's his coming to the Varia!" Lussuria squealed suddenly, making Levi, who stood just a metre away, stumble.

"VOI! Stop fussing so much!" Squalo yelled, flailing his arm.

"Hey Bel, did you even have a castle?" Mammon smirked slightly, knowing just how much his partner hates it when someone doubts he's a real prince.

The genius teen just crossed his arms and shrugged slightly to get the illusionist to fall from his shoulder. But as expected, the Arcobaleno still stuck to him.

"AH~! Let's celebrate when we get back home from the mission!"

Bel chuckled silently. Celebrating on the day of his family's death and the fall of his kingdom. Ironic. But he grinned anyway.

"Why celebrate the day our lives are made harder?" Levi mumbled and received a knife to the forearm. He popped a vein. "We haven't even started the mission yet!"

"Old man." Bel smirked at the lightning user.

"YOU BRAT!"

"Shut up." The voice of their leader resounded. "You trashes can do anything you want. But we need to finish the damned mission." Xanxus replied nonchalantly, glancing back at his team.

"Got it, Boss~!" "Ushishi~! Of course!" "Yes, Boss!" "Hm."

As they marched up the hill and the castle slowly started to fade away in the distance, Bel fell behind. He looked at the back of his teammates walking. They didn't mean much to him and he didn't mean much to them. But they mean at least something to each other. He took one last glance at the castle behind him. Mammon's sentence from before rang in his ears, "Oi! Bel! Hurry up! I want to get back home from the mission as soon as possible!"

Home.

In many ways, this castle was a lot like his old "home". There was a regal king, Xanxus, then there was a fussy Queen, Squalo, there's also the greedy advisor, Mammon, there's a charming prince, himself of course, there's a doting caretaker, Lussuria, and then there's the King's personal bit- butler he dislikes, Leviathan.

He loathed his birth parents, twin and uncle. He doesn't like the Varia very much (if he does then he doesn't show it much) but he would still go to lengths to help the others out. Why would he even bother to go out of his way in a few missions because he had to go save someone's ass? He would appear gloriously, making the illusion he hadn't run all the way to the scene, and 'Ushishi'-ed before making an amazing plan right on the spot. Belphegor knew, even though he's the prince, he would only be the genius to come up with tactics. No, not even here would he have the throne. Though he was feared, respected and looked up to. He had a place.

Belphegor decided that it really is home. It's not warm. It's not full of compassion or understanding. But in the bottom of his heart and the back of his mind, he knew that he wouldn't really want to be anywhere else.

I was actually bored at school and I kinda took a piece of paper and pen (from my friend~!) and then I was like, "I wanna make a oneshot. Pick a prompt." And she was like smirking and said, "castle." And I was like.. O.O so then it just came to Belphegor. The original one is reaalllyyy short and just for fun~! But I decided to type it down, improve it, evolve it, and make it better and presentable then.. Voila! This happened! I couldn't think of a good title though or a proper summary because I seriously didn't know where I was going with that oneshot. And I didn't mean for the part when he's a child to be that depressing. Oh well. I had a nice time writing it. Apologies for anything that might've offended you or if it's too boring because it's pretty repetitive and goes into loops. Thanks for reading~!