My mother played the role of an expecting women with impressive finesse.

She did not make public appearances often but, when she did, she planned out every move she made from the joy in her voice when speaking about her 'unborn precious child' to the way her hands rested against her stomach and the act of her back aching somewhat. My father was not per say terrible at the facade, however, he paled in comparison to his wife who made it seem inconceivable that she wasn't pregnant to the suspicious mafia world.

And of course they were suspicious-affairs were not as secret as the normal populace had them be. Although rumours were savagely killed by my mother herself as a sort of damage control for her husband's foolishness. She did so through her string of brothels, allowing the women of the night to whisper ideas into their temporary lovers' ears in the heat of their passion, their most vulnerable state, all whilst she herself lay in the comfort of her own bed with a man who did not love her.

Oh woe is me, I could practically see the scoff in my mother's eyes, head held high and act of pregnancy about to be plastered on. She had not been shamed by my father for his cheating on her, he had been silently humiliated by how far he'd allowed it to go. The birth of a child, tut tut, was it really so hard to keep it in your pants?

I played my own role in this all of course. Young, pretty Bianchi who was so excited about having a younger sibling. My father had started introducing me to the mafia world, of course only to allied families for now whom he had the closest relationship with. I was an excuse to strengthen those bonds, firstly through friendship with the other young children and secondly through the discussion of marriages when we were older.

I was a pawn dolled up as a sweet daughter no matter how you put it or the amount of love my father lavished upon me. But I was hardly offended by the idea. On the contrary, I found it more impressive to see the man dealing with others so smoothly all without a hint of regret for the daughter he was just selling off with more class than the usual shopkeeper. He regained a little more power in my eyes, however, I really should've expected as much from him. People didn't become a mafia don just because they were related to the previous head, you had to have some skill as a leader and in the business of the underworld they were apart of.

Naturally, I did not mean to go along with his plans of marriage. As fascinating it was to watch him set up the ideas of a stronger bond between his family and another and the fact that I was putting on such pleasantries for these possible husbands, I did not want to be tied down in such a manner. If I were married, I'd have to focus my efforts on being this all-powerful wife like my mother had. Temporary marriages I supposed were fine, as long as they were cut short by say a knife or poison, but if I were to marry as my father dictated, I would not be able to escape so easily.

Briefly, I wondered whether my mother had ever thought the same thing.


The nine months of pregnancy passed slowly for my father, who worried and fretted about the secret getting out, whilst my mother showed no signs of it having been tiring for her. The fake pregnancy belly towards her 'third term' had been a great source of amusement for me as it was only then that most of the staff at the 'castle' finally caught on to my mother's act-her closest staff had always known but I tittered away when a few maids whispered 'I'm beginning to suspect the mistress isn't actually pregnant…'.

From what I gleaned from the loose-lipped members of the mafia family, Lavina held her son in her arms for a total of three days. My father allowed her the privilege of naming the boy, a stupid decision really as what was more suspicious than naming a boy from a supposedly pure-blood Italian family the Japanese name Hayato, and then snatched him from her arms. At the same time, my mother was carted off to a private villa to 'give birth' to the boy. I went too and my father arrived those three days later when his wife supposedly went into labour, carrying his son.

I actually saw Gokudera before my mother. Perhaps it was because we were blood related or it was simply by chance it turned out that way.

Upon seeing his silver hair, I'd almost started laughing because oh dear father, you're in trouble now. Neither my mother or father had a history of silver hair being in our genetics and it practically screamed illegitimacy to anyone who saw the boy.

Of course, I fought it down and smiled happily, asking to hold the boy and for my darling brother's name. My mother didn't seem the slightest offended when I walked into the room with Gokudera in my arms, only arching an eyebrow at his silver hair and shooting her husband a somewhat exasperated look.

A few hours later I found myself left along with Gokudera, the baby boy lying in a crib and fast asleep. I supposed he was a cute child although I had no real patience for children with their screams and sobs. They were usually the flaw in my plans as an assassin in their unpredictability and skill in making loud, attention seeking noises.

Leaning my body against the edge of the crib, I hummed as I stared at the boy, a thought entering my mind.

I wonder what would happen if I killed him?

It'd be easy to get away with it. Smother him with a pillow and then leave, letting the cause of death be identified as the tragic cot death or be attributed to Laviana's sickness. I'd get no blame, after all, how was I supposed to tell the difference between the baby sleeping and the baby being dead? Maybe my mother would notice but there was no doubt in my mind that she'd say nothing, if anything she'd be pleased by her husband's mistake being striked out. And I'd borne no outward hatred of Gokudera because I'd had none, not even now as I calmly considered the idea of murdering him in his sleep.

What would I get out of killing him? Well, I could take Gokudera's place as Tsuna's storm guardian could I not? And right hand man to Vongola Decimo, my, my, what an enticing prospect.

My fingers played about with the corner of the child's pillow.

There'd be no small baby to keep up a good relationship with either. No irritating screaming or need to explain myself when I did things or act like an excited big sister around.

And the final temptation: wouldn't it be interesting?

I wanted to see what would happen if Gokudera died before main events even happened. I was not ignorant of the chaos and butterfly theory and my dear sweet half brother had caused quite the ruckus in Italy before flying over to Japan and meeting Tsuna. Smokin' Bomb Hayato (or Hurricane Bomb Hayato if you preferred the latter translation) was quite the well known hitman, although I was hardly impressed by the stupidity of his bombing technique.

Honestly, I did not comprehend the idea of using a skill that more often than not blew up in your face. An assassin did not act without the odds being properly analysed and, despite the boy's apparent intelligence, he did not seem to even consider this fact.

My other hand began to hover over the pillow. It'd be quick, he wouldn't even feel the slightest hint of pain. Not that I cared particularly if he did but it was the thought which counted.

...Well, not really.

Eventually, after a minute or so of deliberation, I lifted my hands from the pillow and eased myself away from the crib. No, as interesting as the idea was, killing Gokudera now was not tipped enough in my favour to be a worthwhile course of action. It brought up as many complications as it did rewards for there was no doubt in my mind that Reborn, Tsuna's gatekeeper to the mafia world, would be suspicious of the death of my half brother. Even if there was no reason for it and I put on a show of upset, he might see through it and even discover that I had no real hatred to drive me to commit the act.

Killing without remorse was one thing but killing without even having anything to prompt yourself to do it was something to be feared. Also, it was definitely something to steer a young, prospective mafia boss clear of.

Even so, I was already considering the idea of murdering Gokudera when I was older. I could maybe orchestrate it so that I came out looking the good guy and Tsuna trusted me, or portraying myself as the tortured soul who had to kill to protect and please protect me Vongola Decimo, your my last hope to be safe in this world.

I left the room, amusing myself with the idea that the baby in the crib had no idea their life could've been cut so short with complete ease.

What a commodity some lives are.


It took a while before Gokudera was shown off to the mafia world. My entrance to this underworld had been fairly quick, although my intelligence had put me on the fast track for it, however, Gokudera's hair colour was a problem.

My mother ended up reassuring my father it would be fine-the two of them looked alike enough for it to be certain that the boy was definitely his son even if he was born out of wedlock. Xanxus' debut into the world of killers was also around the same time which further encouraged the man to show off his son finally as there was no doubt the wielder of rage flames was illegitimate. I had not seen any glimpse of the future Varia boss yet though as, whilst I knew our family to be powerful, the Vongola were the top of the top and wouldn't ever personally associate with us. Only though big parties did my father ever meet them and in my fragile youth I was still not permitted to go to such events.

I didn't particularly mind this. Being too well known would present some difficulties later in life when the assassinating business started up again so I settled for making my world as small as my family and it's allies.

For some reason, Gokudera clung to me as his older sister, cooing and grinning whilst attempting to drool all over me. It was probably a good thing he acted so attached to me as I did not feel particularly drawn to the idea of acting the same on my own initiative unless the situation really called for it. One of his first words was 'sorella' and my father found it absolutely adorable whilst my mother smiled like she always did.

If she hated Gokudera, she did a very good job of hiding it. She treated him in almost the exact manner she had treated me at his age, although I suspected I was treated with a tad bit more respect for my maturity beyond my years.

And Lavina, oh beautiful Lavina. We finally met on her fourth visitation of her son, face pale and thinness obvious. Dying, most likely with a terminal illness, I decided without much sympathy for the pianist as she looked down at me in surprise. "Hello." She had a soft, pretty voice and I tutted mentally. She'd never survive as the wife of a mafia boss, she should count it a blessing her illness gave her a reason not to accept my father's proposals.

"Hello. I'm Bianchi." I smiled, looking up at her through my eyelashes. Realization darted through her eyes, clearly deciphering that I was her lover's first child from his actual wife. Such a look made me wonder whether my dearest father had initially lied to her, said he was not married, that he had no children, for Lavina seemed far too morally upstanding to have an affair with a man who did.

Or perhaps I was raising her onto a pedestal she did not deserve?

Instead was Lavina one of those 'true love knows no boundaries' types? She was younger than my father so a few sugar coated words might've made her fall into bed with him and cover her eyes to the wife and daughter he had.

Honestly, wording it in such a way made it seem as though I cared.

"O-oh, so you're Hayato's sister?" She grasped at her shawl, clearly uncomfortable with this turn of events.

Nodding, I twirled a finger in my hair. It was getting long and I had been considering when I should cut it. Long hair was supposedly the epitome of western beauty but I had tended to wear wigs before to reach such a standard whilst keeping my actual hair short. Or I could dye it eventually to blonde-it was cliched but true that blondes were underestimated and also often seen as more attractive.

"Ah, you have pianist fingers just like your brother!" Lavina broke through my thoughts on my hair with a beam, gesturing towards my hands. "Have you ever played the piano before, Bianchi?"

I resisted the urge to scoff. Of course I had, knowing how to play an instrument or two was a much sought after skill when one was an assassin. It opened up so many more opportunities, for example, sneaking into a party as a musician or acting as a teacher to a relative of the target. "Yes, it's fun, isn't it?"

Her smile got wider, finally swimming in waters she knew. "It's great fun, I'm teaching your brother a little at the moment actually. One day perhaps you'd like to join us too?"

Ah. The guilt was showing through.

"Maybe." I returned her smile, ensuring I fidgeted the slightest to show my interest in the conversation waning. Her beam faltered a little at this and her eyes glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. It was gold and intricate, roman numerals boasting the time as though somehow this old system of numbers indicated wealth and how much better we were off than everyone else. Lavina looked so out of place in her worn dress and it was such a blessing she was dying. A mere clock that wasn't even the most expensive one in the house had more class than she did.

"I'm sorry Bianchi but I'm a little late for something-I hope I can see you again!" Bowing her head a little, despite being the elder in this situation, she waved goodbye as she hurried off, silver hair flying.

No wonder everyone realized she was Gokudera's mother, I sniffed, a door next to me cracking open and my half brother tumbling out, chubby fingers clinging to my leg. "Sorella!" He giggled, face pressing into the side of my skirt. Lavina briefly turned at the sound of her son's voice but was met by a smile from me that made her snap her head back round. I watched her disappear round a corner and a couple of maids appear straight afterwards, whispering and looking behind their shoulders with disbelieving stares.

What a pitiful woman, I mused without really any hint of pity.


So, quite a few people were going all 'I think Gokudera and Bianchi will be awesome siblings!'

:))))

I actually seriously considered her murdering Gokudera as a baby but changed my mind at the last minute. It shows her feelings towards him pretty well though haha

Halfway through writing that scene my dad asked what I was doing and replied with "Oh y'know, just the discussion of killing a baby not out of hatred but just cuz they wanna know what would happen because of it."