Kill Me With Fire (It's Not Like I Burn)
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Summary: ''Bianchi burns at the stake, but by god, she burns bright.
(Lord Romeo kills his lover when she refuses to have him.
She's the one who kills him in their next life)'' On confusing memories of a past life, Bianchi's relationship with Hayato, and loving yourself.
Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Warnings: Sexual assault (no rape), the witch hunt, murder (not graphic).
There are two illustrations accompanying this fic. You can find the fic including the images at AO3. I'm under the same username over there! (One of the illustrations is used as the cover here)
Kill me with fire,
It's not like I burn,
A witch of desire,
At the stake, I will turn,
So hide your eyes,
Your face, your skin,
My mother before me,
Went for the win.
My Lord,
(My lord you may not be)
Witches is just another word
For the ones defying you.
(I'll set them free)
The fire is high and flickers around her.
She needs to get to him- where is he? Where? She flinches away from the heat, trembling, but puts her bare feet on the burning wood anyway- she hasn't got a choice.
Smoke whirls around her, the stench of human flesh cooked alive heavy in the air.
As a little girl, Bianchi likes to dance. It goes a little like this:
''One witch burns,
She burns in the fire,
Curses the man,
With strange desire.''
It feels like fear and something hideous.
She doesn't know where it comes from, and the dance steps wind around each other strangely. Some ask if she's playing hopscotch, with the many jumps and turns. But she isn't. She's stepping, from high to low, dodging, where the devil goes.
It's instinctive, unchangeable and real.
Like her dreams.
He was so sweet, at first, and wasn't it darling? A knight, stepping off his horse to help a scullery maid- only to be charmed into coming back by her laugh, enchanted by the pearl gleam of her scraped back hair and the sway of her hips.
Romeo, his name was, and he was the Lord's son, newly knighted and only just returning home after years of being away.
His armor shone in the sun and something about his voice made Bianchi's stomach flutter.
She brushes off her skirt with care and walks in the light, though she can feel his eyes follow her even in the dark.
Is this love?
Bianchi doesn't like men. Not even her own papa.
She wants his attention, he should be paying attention, but he's always too busy, too this, too that. She keeps trying because he's her papa and thus belongs to her. But still, her nightmares scream: men are dangerous.
She likes fairy tales. Her mama reads a lot of them at day or late at night. Papa doesn't pay attention to mama either.
When Hayato comes to live with them, she kind of likes him. Sure, he's a baby, but all princes must start somewhere and she's sure he'll become a marvelous princeling one day. She'll just have to wait and see.
But then mama tells her Hayato is not her son, so that must mean Hayato is her step-brother. Bianchi isn't sure what to think of it. Step-family is evil, after all.
…Her nightmares grow darker. She dreams of a man, a horrid man, and other flashes too. A woman, out of her mind, green, green eyes and the sting of a slap to the face.
Hayato becomes bigger and bigger, grows at every turn, and the more she looks, the more those big orbs of his turn into the gemstone eyes in her dreams. He's the beanstalk- green, grows quickly and leads to a man-eating giant.
She's afraid, terrified, and begins to avoid him. But her papa praises her cooking, finally acknowledges her, and in an act of kindness, Bianchi gives some to Hayato.
She discovers papa didn't mean it tasted good. In fact, he didn't taste it at all. He was proud because it managed to burn to through the napkin she put them on.
It burns through Hayato's stomach the same way, and he keeps lying curled up on the ground and she wants to reach out and flinch away at the same time.
She needs to poison- a man. A boy. Who? What? Why?
…She keeps giving them to Hayato.
Maybe if he'll stop looking at her with those jungle eyes, her nightmares will disappear.
She snorts.
Who is she kidding?
Hayato is her living nightmare. He's there day and night, everywhere in the house, and whenever she sees him, she freezes in terror, and nowhere, nowhere is safe.
She just wants to feel safe again. Why can't he let her?
A gate-away to man-eating giants.
It's tempting, the thought of staying at the castle on her midday off because she knows Sir Romeo will be in the courtyard today, and maybe he'll even talk to her again. But Hayato hears her footsteps and flies in order to embrace her, so Romeo will have to wait.
She slides a hand through tangled, silver hair. His small arms clamp around her middle, his cheek pressed against her stomach. '''Miss me?''
He nods without lifting his head, the rough fabric of her dress chafing against her skin. ''Mum got cuckoo again, Bia.''
Her heart clenches and she lifts him up, though he's too big for that already. The fact that he lets her only makes her clutch him tighter. ''You got away, right?''
''Of course he did.''
Bianchi looks up. The man leaning against the door opening of the house smirks, black eyes gleaming. All at once the tension leaves her body. ''Thank you, Renato.''
He closes in on them and cups her cheek gently, running his thumb over the surface of her skin. ''Always for you, Bianchi.''
Hayato glares up at him from where he's cradled in her arms. ''Liar! You just don't want Tsuna to cry because then Nana will cry too and then everybody at your home is crying. You can't stand crying!''
Renato raises his hands. ''Sue me for being an uncle and a man at the same time.''
Bianchi laughs, chest warm.
If not for Romeo, she might've loved Renato.
Hayato runs away from home, and for the first time in years, Bianchi can breathe easy. But her father takes the steering wheel and suddenly Bianchi is important. He confirms that she is the heir.
It tastes bitter.
Her father is trying, but pretty dresses don't make Bianchi happy. She hates how he let her learn the way of poison from her mama, but doesn't let her reach for the guns.
If Hayato had asked, their father would have complied in a second.
It's an ugly thought, but a true one, and it makes her want to hurl in green jealousy and disgust both.
Her stomach swirls, and she swallows it back in. The sour taste remains, and she feels so awful, so weak and horrible, and she's never ever going to do it again. She'll speak her mind, no matter how ugly, because at least then it's outside, instead of in (it rots you, from the inside out, the hate, the anger, the helplessness).
Is this what it means to be a woman? If so, it's wrapping its arms around her neck and squeezing, choking her until there's no air left again, and Bianchi… Bianchi needs to break free.
She's the second child to escape that house- her mother, her mother aided her.
(Bianchi always knew her mama was a queen)
Romeo… touches her. Not in the way other people do. Not just warm arms around her, not just his lips on hers, bodies resting against each other in the late afternoon sun, peaceful and quiet.
No.
He… He touches her breasts and doesn't stop when she flinches away. It feels wrong. She doesn't want him to touch her like that. Not… Not when he looks at her with pupils growing larger than his iris, a black hole of hunger swallowing up gemstones.
She's not proud of it, but she runs like a deer from the hunt, heart hammering in her chest all the while.
Suddenly, his eyes following her are not reassuring at all.
She writes signs of protection on her skin with the scarlet ink of chicken blood and washes it off with the morning dew, so nobody will see.
She's a hitman now and a proud one at that. She uses guns and nobody can tell her to stop.
Not if they don't want a hole through their head, that is.
She's got power at her fingertips, poison in her veins, and she feels so, so powerful.
She rocks into the arms dealer, and sees him, buried in his frigid magazine. The ceiling stretches out high above her, the endless rows cold steel racks looming over her. They're filled with plastic cases- but lethal is all of it.
He's a bel ragazzo.
His eyes follow the sway of her hips, and god, does it feel great. She's got his attention- undivided.
Not even her mother gave her that.
He takes her to the bar, hand on her waist. Her first sip of alcohol tastes disgusting, burns when it goes down the throat. It reminds her of nightmares and awful dreams. She kisses Romeo and he tastes of smoke.
She's fifteen. He's twenty-one.
But Bianchi's a woman now and can make her own decisions. If she wants black hair, blue eyes and a slick-too-sly pretty boy smile, she can have it.
Girl got gun and she ain't letting go.
It didn't occur to her he would go this far until it happened.
''Don't be stupid, Bianchi. There's only one thing I could want from a girl like you.'' Romeo's grin stretches large and wide, spreading farther than it should, and for a second, heart beating in her throat, she thinks his jaw will unhinge and he'll swallow her whole.
He looms over her like a shadow, his curls a nest of darkened thorns, a crown of sharp beauty and hatred.
How dare he threaten her.
Knuckles turning white, jaw clenching, nails digging into her palms, she hisses: ''My body won't be yours until the last life has left my veins, and even then, I'll spit on you from beyond the grave.''
Pretty, pretty poison leaves her mouth and she leaves him standing with a scratch down his cheek and a snarl on his face.
She's got a brother to come home to.
Romeo touches her and it's wrong, wrong, wrong. It's weird, and his touch is so slimy, so dirty, so, so… She squeezes her eyes closed and shrinks into herself, even though she swore she would never do it again.
She longs for weapon-cold steel in her hands, but there isn't and she… she…
This is her body and what does he think he's doing, touching it?!
There's gunpowder in her gut and by god, it explodes.
Her life flashes before her eyes. Except it's not the one she's currently living, and suddenly, everything makes sense.
She opens her eyes and remembers.
She's nineteen. She's fifteen.
She's a hitman. She's a witch
Mother is cuckoo. Mama is a queen.
Red flames leak from her hands,
poison rises from her throat,
and she's everything
she's ever been,
a witch and deadly both.
(Lord Romeo kills his lover when she refuses to have him. She's the one who kills him in their next life)
They call her a witch, and she pleads guilty with her head held high.
Her brother watches from the back of the church, lips trembling, hands entangled with Tsunayoshi's.
Everything is clearer now. Her past, her present, her future.
Hayato is here too, was reborn! It sings in Bianchi's heart like no other, screaming hallelujah to the heavens as she finally finds the place where her brother's staying, and he opens the door and-
She realizes what she's done, with emerald eyes staring at her in fear as he shakes in his shoes.
She poisoned him. She tortured him. She killed him a little every day. And even if he killed her too (no, she knows now, it was Romeo, trying to suffocate her from beyond the grave), made her gasp for air in fear, she still did it.
He can't look at her without becoming sick. She wants to cry.
But she doesn't.
She's a witch. Witches bleed and burn.
Those who plead guilty are only imprisoned, those who plead guilty, are often set free.
Those who plead guilty watch behind the iron bars as the ones who pleaded innocent are brought to the stake.
This time, her brother is among them.
Bianchi wails.
It hurts, but that was to be expected. It's cold inside, after seeing Hayato. Empty. A cavern, hollowed by grief.
It's like her screaming, aching heart has been moved to another plane.
She needs time, she tells herself. Time to heal. Time to discover herself. Time, time to find out just how she can utilize those red flames of hers.
She mingles muted red with poison, and everything she touches is ruined.
It's her kind of witchcraft.
She learns to smile like a loaded gun until people give her space. Even that part of her is weaponized now.
She won't ever be defenseless again.
Red flames drip from her hands and burn through the bars like acid.
She climbs through them without questioning- she's got a brother to rescue.
The pyres are burning, but Bianchi wrestles herself through the crowd and runs between them.
The fire is high and flickers around her.
This is it. Her deepest, darkest fear. To be burned, like the witch she is.
But that's not true. There's one thing she fears more than that.
She needs to get to Hayato- where is he? Where? She flinches away from the heat, trembling, but puts her bare feet on the burning wood anyway- she hasn't got a choice.
Smoke whirls around her, the stench of human flesh cooked alive heavy in the air.
Burnings happen only once a quarter- there are many, many pyres and not all of them have been set aflame yet. Her pursuers are thrown off by her path- they don't dare to follow so close, sometimes even in the fire itself.
The last pyres- a glint of silver. There's no fire yet, which means he's still alive, but also that she will only have a few seconds to set him free.
The Renato of this life, Reborn, is a lot older than her but looks a lot younger simultaneously.
Bianchi doesn't care. Her love has never been about age or appearance. She hates the touch others seem to crave. She loves him in his purest form, worships the soul he carries.
It's called asexuality and Reborn cares.
In the right way.
She flies, doesn't even have to tug at the cords binding him, because somehow, the red fire appears again and burns through it, dripping like acid and marring his wrists. She'll worry about it later.
For now, she just looks at his shell-shocked expression (he's gotten so big while she was behind the bars), takes his hand and drags him behind her. He stumbles over the wood, but she keeps pulling- she can feel the hot breath of death on her neck and there's no way she'll hand over her brother.
She sees a dark head appear behind the bakery. ''Renato!''
His eyes widen and he rushes to her, taking Hayato and throwing the child over his shoulder, running with her.
Yes. Like this, they might make it. They've got a chance! Bianchi can see the edges of town- the woods behind it will make it a lot harder for Romeo to find them and-
The world tilts as her foot glides off a cobblestone. She manages to catch herself, but ouch- her ankle. Her damn ankle.
The forest is in sight, but she can hear the hounds behind her. She'll never make it.
''Bianchi!''
She ignores Renato's wild eyes and her brother's desperate cries. ''Go!''
They have no choice.
She tries to crawl, but it doesn't work and oh, god- a dark shadow appears above her, and arms encased in gauntlets raise her up in the air by the throat.
''You'll burn this time,'' Romeo spits in her face.
She laughs. She's shaking and hysterical, at the end of her wits and so, so afraid of the flames he'll toss her into.
She's terribly selfish. Because this is no sacrifice- this is her choosing her brother's life above her own while knowing she might not make it. Her brother, who needs her.
Her only regret.
Romeo snatches the torch from the executioner and sets her pyre aflame.
She's going to burn. Just like her spite- that boils inside out. And someday, she swears, it will butcher Romeo too- whatever it takes.
''I curse you, in my name and of my mothers before me, for witches kin make witches skin and all men may burn in the fire.''
Strange, how she dies from the smoke.
She rolls into town like nobodies business and poisons little Tsunayoshi to see if he'll survive.
He does.
Bianchi's proud of him. He's grown so much already in so little time.
He's different in this life- did not have Renato before, to dry his mother's tears whenever her husband's gone again, to teach him how to walk, how to carry himself.
But Renato- Reborn- is here now. And he'll teach Tsuna how to be a man. And Bianchi?
Bianchi's glad. Because Hayato is here and Tsunayoshi has always healed him in ways she never could. And slowly, slowly, they begin to patch things up.
She hides her face, so she can spend time with him. And even if he still gets sick at the sight of her, he tries.
And he tries for her.
Bianchi is a spiteful woman, but she runs off love, and it makes her flower and bloom in ways she never expects.
And true love? True love doesn't catch fire. It blooms and it sleeps in winter, but die it does not.
And it's everywhere- in the hands of a mother, the smile of a father, a sibling squeezing your shoulder. A friend, holding your hand, a spouse, kissing your cheek. A child, to love unconditionally.
Hayato is her little brother, and she's a selfish woman who will take what she wants, and teach him wherever he goes.
There's only one lesson Bianchi's got left to teach him in the meantime. It's the hardest lesson ever taught to her, but it's also the most important.
How to love yourself.
If she can teach him that, he'll have the world at his feet, and he will never, ever burn.
Not even at the stake.
Author's note
Did you think the Romeo/Bianchi dynamic was fucked up in canon? Believe, that was far from the only thing wrong with that relationship. Romeo, according to the KHR wikia, was 21 at the time of his death. Bianchi, at the beginning of KHR canon, is 17. Romeo was killed before KHR canon, and he probably wasn't killed just before canon, because Bianchi calls herself Reborn's girlfriend at that point. So that would make her at least 16, but in this particular case, I chose 15 to make sure it was far enough from KHR canon. A fifteen-year-old girl with a 21-year-old man? Yeah, no.
The same could be argued for canon KHR Bianchi/Reborn, but that could go both ways and if that isn't topsy turvy then I don't know either. Their relationship has always been about unconditional love for me, whether romantic or otherwise.
I wrote ''Reborn doesn't care,'' at the part about Bianchi's asexuality, then stared at it, berated myself and erased it. Because that's a mistake I see often in fiction, and in my own work too. We say ''they don't care,'' while we mean ''they care in the right way,'', and we really should stop confusing those two. Because ''they don't care,'' implies they don't care either way, that it's not important, and that can feel like erasure. Loving is loving a person whole- loving all their parts, loving them because they are them and because every part of them is important. And I really wanted to express that.
Bel ragazzo = pretty boy. Not sure if it's just a literal translation or not. I tried to find out, but it's hard to find a translator that will get the right term in this case.
''In The Name Of Love'', the song by Bebe Rexha and Martin Garrix, was a big inspiration for this!
Thanks to I.W.P-chan for helping me with the placement of the '''bel ragazzo''! And thanks to MetronomeIHear for the lovely title prompt!