Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Chapter 10
Staring down the barrel of the gun, Nana narrows her eyes to shield them from the sun. Warm hands wrap around hers.
''Hold it like this,'' Lal tucks a lock of hair behind Nana's ear when she retracts her hands. ''Next time, we're putting your hair up. It gets in the way too much.''
Nana smiles, focuses, and shoots.
It's nowhere near the target, but better than her last try.
This is the first thing she learns, here in Italy. Guns and roses, what an idea. The recoil is harsh, but her mother was huge during her last months of pregnancy, so she isn't sure how mobile she'll be in a few months. Especially since Iemitsu's height is nothing to scoff at (and wasn't that reunion awkward. Especially since she'd been admiring Lal's very nice arms just the minute before).
The steel feels heavy in her hands, but the coldness of it makes awe unfurl inside of her like a rose. Or maybe a whirlpool would be a better description- she's going down further and further the path. Nana is no Alice, but she's never been able to resist the rabbit hole. The idea of murder abhors her, but the weapons that paint red across the carpet fascinate her.
At the end of the shoot -closer-to-the-target-than-before session, Lal's eyes gleam. "It's time."
Nana laughs at her serious expression, but Lal isn't budging. "I have come to induct you into the holy order of gun-admirers, starting by viewing my collection."
...Nana has to say, she's curious.
Japan was an experience. Iemitsu screaming at the airport to take him with her like an angry toddler (she'd had her fair share of those with Timoteo and Xanxus) was also a thing. He just didn't get the meaning of ''private talk'' and she knew it- so she'd taken the first plane the minute she'd heard his ex-girlfriend was pregnant. It was ten hours from Italy to Japan, and she'd been unable to sleep. Never sleep in the presence of strangers. It's the highway to hell of the underworld- you'll be dead before the sun rises.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she splashes some water on her face. Japan's airport bathrooms are definitely nice, all white marble and squeaky-clean mirrors. Seeing her reflection doesn't exactly help her case- the bags underneath her eyes stand out like bruises, her bun lopsided.
She doesn't have time for this. The next flight to Japan was five hours later- Iemitsu's probably halfway to Japan right now. She needs to hurry.
Tullio falls into step behind her as she leaves the bathroom. They've got a taxi to catch.