Disclaimer – I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or portentious mafia coup détats.

Notes: This is my go at reconciling all known elements of Gokudera's backstory, both from the Daily Life and Future arcs. Expect a lot of headcanon, painstakingly woven over the past six years, which I spent never getting over the end of this stupid series.

This was also my attempt to create the kind of finale that I always wanted—in particular, the kind of character development I feel like the series was building towards (or maybe it was just my own wishful thinking), but never quite achieved. As such, it's written as sort of a new story arc, and because of that, there are several OCs thrown (rather heavily) into the mix. This was absolutely essential for the plot, so all I can do is hope I haven't screwed that up too badly.

This is about 90% complete, with an expected word count of around 50k. Planned update schedule is Tuesdays & Thursdays.

Warnings: Overall tw for psychological abuse. See individual chapter notes for more specific warnings.

Prologue (Target 00) - Coup

In the aftermath of the coup, the DiSanto mansion resembled nothing so much as the set of a Hollywood disaster film. The grand entryway was strewn with the debris of shattered pots and glasswork, and one of the two massive oak doors had been blown off its hinge. Pieces of antique furniture lay riddled with bullet holes where they had been overturned and used as makeshift barriers. Curtains had been torn, shredded, and one had even been set on fire; the embers still smoldered lightly next to a shattered mirror.

Anthony Franco, a lanky Italian man of twenty-eight, winced as he caught sight of that last. "Aaaand that's seven years' bad luck," he muttered aloud.

"Yes, very unlucky," the woman behind him said dryly. This statement was accompanied by the sound of steel being drawn; Anthony turned to watch as she drew her shin gunto sword from the sheath on her back. With the trademark effortless grace that had always fascinated him, she crouched beside one of the dying men who had been unlucky enough to find themselves on the wrong end of this conflict.

Slender fingers reached to gently brush the man's lips, hushing his pained cries. A second later, the sword had silenced them permanently.

Rising back to her feet, Bella Roma flung the excess blood from the blade with a flick of her wrist, pulling out a cloth with her other hand to wipe off the rest. "We should just call the whole thing off."

"Don't suppose the Boss would be too happy about that."

"Is he the Boss, now?"

"Seems that way. Doesn't exactly look like anyone's left to protest."

Bella quirked an eyebrow, and Anthony marveled yet again at just how beautiful those sightless gray eyes were. "The mission objective didn't call for survivors."

"In this case, survivors would have been… messy."

"And I don't do messy."

Anthony grinned. "I know you can't see it for yourself, but believe me." He spread his arms wide to indicate the rubble all around them. She couldn't physically witness the gesture—Bella had been blind since childhood—but he knew she would still be able to tell exactly what he was doing. "It's a mess."

She smiled as he reached out and brushed a smudge of dirt off her cheek, then flicked aside a few stray long dark hairs. For a moment his touch lingered there. She replied in kind, drawing his face in closer, fingertips softly tracing the five o'clock shadow that he painstakingly maintained (while going to great lengths to appear as though he didn't).

They kissed, lightly, and then he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I guess I'd better go check on him."

He stepped over a fallen column toward the set of doors that led to the east hall, and beyond that the ballroom where, he assumed, Luca would be.

Just as he was about to walk through the door, he heard Bella caution him: "Careful what you say. He's upset."

Anthony didn't bother to ask how she knew—he knew better than to question Bella's intuitions by now. If she said something was, then it was. "Roger that," he said, then set down the hall, conscious of the way his footsteps echoed all the way down the marble floor.

Luca DiSanto glanced briefly in his direction as Anthony entered the ballroom, but otherwise did not immediately acknowledge his presence. He stood by the grand piano, idly fingering the keys.

Anthony thought in that moment that he looked very much older than his twenty-five years. Though Luca—unlike Anthony—hadn't yet sprouted any gray hairs among his coal-black fringe, his eyes had a vaguely haunted look about them. He looked preoccupied, but thankfully not crazed or disturbed, as Anthony had briefly feared he might be.

"So how does it feel?" Anthony asked, keeping his tone casual but cautious. It wouldn't do to rattle the kid's emotions more than they probably already were, but this was a big moment, and he needed to get a read on what Luca was thinking now that they had finally made it to this point.

The corner of Luca's mouth curled upward, humorlessly. "Not great. I killed a lot of people I liked." He fiddled with the keyboard lid. "…And my dad is dead."

That, of course, was the heart of the matter right there. "Well, that is the nature of a coup," Anthony said, not unkindly.

Luca sighed. "It shouldn't have been necessary. In a just world, it wouldn't have been. It's such a waste. This whole system."

Abruptly, he slammed the piano lid shut with a heavy thud, the first display of temper Anthony had seen from him that night. Oddly, rather than being unsettled, Anthony found it somewhat reassuring; this side of Luca, he had much more experience in dealing with.

"You did what you had to do. …Boss," he added.

It had the desired effect; Luca's mood of existential anger seemed to dissipate, and when he finally turned back to Anthony he was smiling again, albeit with something of a grim edge. "So who's left?"

"Well, me and Bella. Absolutely none of the Capos. Still a good number of soldiers. We took care of anyone who wasn't loyal. Bella… well, you know how she is." He shrugged. "I don't think there'll be any problems. You do have a couple of high-level vacancies to fill," he added. "Probably at least a few of the soldiers are low-key hoping it'll be them."

"Is there anyone who'd be good?"

"We'll look into it." Anthony did have a couple of candidates in mind, though it would probably be best to wait until the dust had settled a little bit, to make sure they were really trustworthy.

"Speaking of high-level vacancies," Luca said very offhandedly, "I'll be needing a Consigliere."

Anthony grinned. "I wonder where you could find a bastard willing to do that."

He couldn't fight the rush of affection that hit him when Luca smiled back. For all of his faults, his temper and his stubbornness, he really was fond of the kid. He'd gotten a raw deal; it really wasn't his fault. While Anthony had had his misgivings back when they'd first started planning the coup, in the end he did feel that some measure of justice had been served here tonight.

"I can count on you?" Luca said, and Anthony nodded.

"Always."

Luca began walking toward the door and Anthony fell into step beside him.

"First things first," Luca said as they exited the room. "I need you to select one or two others that you trust to be able to get a job done."

"And what kind of job are we talking?"

Luca slowed, and paused for a moment.

"…I need you to go to Japan."