053 - Swear on Omertá

For the next few days, Harry is on cloud seven. She just feels So Good. It probably freaks Hayato out, but there are worse things to be freaked out over.

She did tell him all she could, but not Mr. Tuna's name. Hayato hadn't even wanted to know after she'd shown him the letter her older self had left her, because 'your future self probably knows what she's talking about and she also probably has more sense than you, woman, because you have no sense at all'. Then he'd gone off on a tangent about reading everything on time travel he could get his hands on because what if she creates a time paradox and the universe implodes?!

...Is that even a possibility?

Harry, destroyer of the universe. It sure sounds badass.

She still prefers Thieving Magpie.

After those few days are over, she starts missing Mr. Tuna something fierce. It's not logical at all - they'd met for five minutes. She can't be that attached already, right?

Once again, Hayato proves that he's better at listening to Shamal than she is, because he tells her that during the time after forming a Guardian Bond, the two involved parties would be exceptionally clingy. And fuck Harry's life, her Sky is ten years in the future and therefore not immediately available.

Hurray for Flame supplements. They don't come close to the real thing, but they do take the edge off.

She could use the bazooka ammo, but she'd rather save that for emergencies.

When Shamal drops by to visit, she tells him that she found her Sky and that he was really nice. (Or will be. Ten years from now.)

Shamal freaks out. "He?" he asks. "Your Sky is male?"

"Err... yes?"

"Who is he?!" Shamal growls. "How old is he? Where does he live? Is he married and has children? Did he address you as anything other than 'Miss Giglio Nero'? Did he touch you?"

"Dunno." Harry shrugs. "Why d'you ask?"

Shamal fixes her with a look. "Harry, let me tell you some very important things about men..."

...so apparently, all men above the age of twelve are not to be trusted, she surmises from the following ten minute rant. She is not to be alone with any male in that age range, unless said male is happily married with children or physically incapable of touching her. She is also not to date until she's fifty.

"...you do realise that you are older than twelve, unmarried and childless, and not physically disabled?" Harry points out.

"That's different, little lady!" Shamal waves her off. "Now swear on omertà that you won't date!"

"Fuck off! I'm not swearing anything!" Harry flips him off, because no way in hell is she going to swear anything that stupid. Not that she wants to date anyone, but she'd like to keep her options open, thank you very much.

"Language!" he snaps.

"Screw you!" She sticks out her tongue.

Shamal backs down. For two minutes. Then he starts again and Harry jumps out of the window, laughing like mad and feeling free.

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054 - Information

Of course, Harry can't get rid of Shamal that simply. She can, however, distract him.

"Say, you ever heard of someone named Zabini?" she asks him.

Shamal's jaw drops. "Why do you ask, little lady?" he asks warily.

Harry just shrugs. "Something I heard, is all. They're a Mafia Famiglia, right? But I couldn't find out anywhere what they actually do."

He snorts. "Of course you couldn't. They cover their tracks well."

Harry tilts her head and aims her large green eyes at him. Resist, Shamals, resist... damn.

"The Zabini are a fairly large and powerful Family - powerful in the sense that there's hardly anything going on that they don't know about. They deal in information, identities, and debts. Some other stuff, too, but those are the main ventures."

"Debts?" Harry asks.

"Not monetary ones," Shamal answers.

Harry frowns. She's unusually focused today, he notes. Is that because of her Sky's influence, whoever the bastard may be? Or is she more interested in this topic than she lets on?

Might as well tell her, he reckons. She'd probably hear about them anyway. Actually, he'd be surprised if she didn't end up working with them at some point.

"The Zabini Family is special in the sense that they exist both in the Mafia World and the Magical World," he drops the bomb. Harry gasps.

"But that's impossible!" she exclaims. "We're supposed to stay separate from them, you told me that!"

"Yeah," he answers. "There's a loophole there. See, a Mafia child can go and get magical education. They only need to pick the world they want to belong to after graduation. The Zabini Family cranks out a few magicals in every generation. Those kids after graduation either join the Family business in the Mafia World - or they stay members of the prestigious Zabini pureblood family. They are damn good at crafting identities in either world."

Harry is silent while she processes this. "So... those children operate in both worlds?" she finally asks.

"Correct. They gather information for both Mafia and Magical branch of the Family, but most of all..." Shamal grimaces. "They are the operatives for the Zabini's most lucrative business venture."

"...Which is?" she inquires after he doesn't continue.

Shamal gives her grim look. "I can't tell you."

And cue the Word's Deadliest Pout.

"Seriously, little lady, I can't tell you."

She drops the pout. "Why not? Did you swear on omertà or something?"

"Or something." Shamal rubs the bridge of his nose. "Do me a favour and don't get tangled up with them."

She sighs. "I can try..." she mumbles.

"Fine," Shamal groans. "Don't get tangled up with them anytime soon."

"Okay."

Somehow, that doesn't make him feel better.

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055 - Not the end of the world

Hayato doesn't show it, but he's uneasy.

Sure, he's glad that Harry is getting better - not completely all right yet, but definitely on the way. The spring is back in her steps, and while her eyes haven't regained their sparkle yet, they don't look lifeless anymore, either.

But the knowledge that someone has that much power over Harry, over her sanity, her very soul, is deeply unsettling. Hayato had tried and tried to help her for months, had played the piano. This unknown, this Sky, had done what Hayato couldn't within the space of five minutes.

And before that, it had taken even less for Vongola Nono to throw Harry into Discord.

And the whole thing wouldn't have been an issue if not for that Aria person, the Giglio Nero Boss, who is also a Sky.

Clearly, Hayato thinks, Skies cannot be trusted. It couldn't be helped now, since Harry apparently needed that Sky, but Hayato would be damned if he'd just watch the whole thing happen. No, once he found that Sky, he'd test him. Make sure he was worthy of Harry. (Which nobody is. Tough shit, Sky bastard. Face the consequences.)

No killing, though. Harry would most certainly cry. Besides, as unsettling as the sudden change is, Hayato is glad that Harry seems to be getting better.

Things go back to mostly normal. Only mostly, because Hayato is getting restless and Harry is the same. He doesn't know why that is in her case, but for him... it was that battle at the Corvi stronghold. He'd fought, and he'd fought well, but it wasn't enough. He may have held his own, but he wants to dominate his battles. And he never, ever wants to see Harry hurt again. He doesn't even want to see her fight. She shouldn't have to.

So he needs to get stronger.

And he knows he'd get a lot stronger if he started taking jobs as a hitman. Because his dynamite was meant for that. The guns, too. He is holding himself back, for Harry. Because she hadn't grown up in the Mafia, while he'd been desensitised to killing and death from a young age. And he can still see Harry bent over the toilet, throwing up her dinner after waking from a nightmare, agonising over having taken lives.

So he doesn't bring it up, the fact that he knows he's holding himself back for her. Later, he tells himself. When she's dealing better. Don't push more worries on her.

And what kills him is that he is holding Harry back, too. She went off on her own and stole the freaking Ten-Year-Bazooka! And he just knows that she couldn't have done that with him in tow, because he isn't a good thief.

He hates the thought that to reach their full potentials, they might have to take solo jobs in the future. They're partners, damn it.

It's kind of a relief when another letter from Vongola arrives - this one adressed solely to him, Hayato.

"I've been invited to Vongola's Storm Camp," he tells Harry that evening.

"Huh?" she asks, looking up from her food. "What's that?"

"It's how Coyote Nougat recruits his men - y'know, his Storm Forces. He invites people who caught his interest, they get training and evaluations and shit, and in the end, they might even get recruited into Vongola. It takes place every two years."

"Oh," Harry says quietly, mulling it over. "How long would you be gone?"

"Two months," he mumbles, avoiding her eyes. "No contact. Unless they decide I'm not good enough and kick me out."

"They wouldn't," Harry says with utter conviction. "You're amazing, Hayato." She tilts her head, smiling sadly. "You should be proud of yourself. Do you want to go?"

"It's two months," he stresses. "Leaving you alone that long-"

"Stop right there," she interrupts. Her green eyes study him seriously. "I refuse to hold you back."

"You aren't!" Hayato protests immediately, and shit, she knows. She rolls her eyes.

"It's not the end of the world, 'yato." Her lips quirk up wryly. "I think we both know... that I'm a thief, and you're not, and you aren't going to be happy being my backup forever and doing sabotage jobs in between. You've got so much potential, you could do anything, and you're holding yourself back because you worry about me."

"For good reason," Hayato grumbles. "You have no survival instincts and common sense."

She laughs. "Hayato, come on. It's a great opportunity."

"I don't even like Vongola," he scowls.

That bastard Vongola Nono was responsible for her nearly falling apart. Why the hell would Hayato want to work for him?!

"You can't know that after such a short time. Anyway, you'll get training for free, see how Vongola works, make contacts, and you aren't obligated to work for them afterwards." She raises an eyebrow at him. "I think you should do it."

The truth is, he wants to do it. He wants to learn to be like Coyote Nougat.

Hayato wants to be a right-hand man someday. It's his dream. Because it would mean that someone needs him to be their right hand, because it would mean he'd be respected and important - he, the bastard son who was only good for playing the piano, and that only under poison influence - and maybe, maybe he'd have a Family that would love him for who he is.

(And maybe, he could change the Mafia. So that kids like him wouldn't be used and discarded anymore. So that kind people like Harry wouldn't have to kill to survive.)

"Two months," he says again.

"I'll be okay, what's the worst that could happen in two months?" she replies, a forced smile on her face. "Really. I've been thinking, I might actually get some training myself. Y'know, so I can fight better."

"You shouldn't have to fight," Hayato says sharply.

"Knowing self-defense never hurt anyone," she argues. "And, you know, someday..."

Someday, he might not be there.

"I don't even have a weapon right now," Harry continues. "Or a martial art, or really anything. The Mosquitoes are great and all, but they aren't exactly powerful. I'm a good thief, a great thief even, but other than that, not that special."

Hayato opens his mouth to protest.

"Anyway!" Harry claps her hands with forced cheer. "I've decided! You're going!"

"Hey! Don't just decide by yourself, woman!"

But Hayato can't suppress a small grin as she laughs.

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056 - The weight of secrets

Hayato leaves a week later. Harry pastes on a smile for him, just like he does for her. It fades as soon as he's gone.

Two months. No contact.

Even in her year-long training with Shamal, they'd had phone calls at least every three days, and they'd sent each other letters all the time. Two months without contact is... harsh.

And necessary. Because Harry didn't convince him to go for entirely unselfish reasons.

She often comes across as a ditz, she knows that. But she's also quite obsevant. Especially when it comes to the jewelry people wear - a habit from her days as a pickpocket thief.

And she'd seen the ring on Mr. Tuna's finger. The ring that looked so very similar to one she'd seen on Vongola Nono's finger in the brief glimpse she caught of him before she was tranquilised.

Oh who's she trying to fool, it was the same ring. Which means that sometime during the next ten years, Harry becomes the Mist Guardian (how does that even work with her being Outside Advisor of the Giglio Nero?) of Vongola freaking Decimo, otherwise known as Mr. Tuna, a man with pretty eyes, fluffy hair, who gives great hugs. And seems to be friends with Hayato. Maybe Hayato is even his Storm Guardian, and god, she hopes he is.

What it means is that she seriously has to do something about her fighting strength.

And she can't tell Hayato that she wanted him in Storm Camp because how else would he meet Mr. Tuna but through the Vongola? According to her Sky, he had met her through Hayato. So Hayato had to have connections to Vongola so he could meet their heir.

But wasn't the heir Mr. Federico? Does that mean Federico dies sometime in the future? What did that mean for her? She couldn't just let him die. But then she'd be changing the future. And her older self had said not to mess with time.

And what if she changed the future and saved Federico - and Mr. Tuna disappeared as a result? Wouldn't that be a time paradox then, because if Mr. Tuna disappeared, then she couldn't have met and bonded with him, and she wouldn't know that something had happened to Mr. Federico, and she couldn't have saved him then, which means that Mr. Tuna would exist again, and the whole thing was going to give her a headache.

What if she had already changed the future by sending Hayato off to Storm Camp?

Harry is very, very aware that by traveling to the future, accidental though it may have been, she took on a responsibility - the responsibility of guarding that future. It's a heavy burden. Usually, her motivations are either 'Hayato might like this' or 'Ohh, shiny'.

Don't mess with time, her future self had told her, and stay true to yourself.

Harry would have preferred a detailed itinerary of all future events and her life-choices, but hopefully, the older her knew what she was doing - after all, wouldn't she have already gone through this? Then those hints in the message would have to be enough.

In emergencies, she could still take a trip to the future and just ask her Sky. Harry still has three of the Ten-Year Bazooka bullets, and she could always steal more, provided she got past the security system again.

In the end, Harry resolves to keep her knowledge of the future a secret.

Don't mess with time, she'd been told, and she wouldn't give anybody else the chance to, either.

For now, she has work to do, and two months to fill.

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057 - A most suspicious job offer

Harry is tired. Tired and annoyed and in a rotten mood.

"Seriously?" she asks. "You had to kill my client right now? You couldn't have waited one bloody minute?"

"Voi!" Superbi Squalo snarls back, pointing his sword-arm at her. "You shitty brat, what the fuck are you doing here!"

Harry dangles the necklace - only one part of the Beluga Family jewels she stole just a few hours ago - from her fingers. "I'm here to cash in on my haul," she answers dryly. "Thanks for nothing, Lord of Shit!"

"Stop bitching! His fucking wallet's right there!" Squalo gestures to the bleeding mess on the ground. Harry studiously avoids looking at it.

"Yeah, he was paying me in information," she snaps. "I doubt I'll find anything of what I want to know in his wallet."

"Not my fucking problem!" Squalo turns and storms out of the room. Harry rolls her eyes and surveys the ransacked office. Nope, nothing here for her. Dammit.

Scowling, she scales the wall and climbs on the rooftop. Below, the streets of Foggia sprawl out. At this time of the night, no one is awake, the streets are empty.

It might have something to do with the rain, too. Harry is soaked to the bone. And the train station is on the other side of the city. This late, no bus is to be seen.

Lips curling in annoyance, she spies Squalo heading for a black, nondescript car. Well, her lack of dryness is his fault. If he hadn't killed her client, she would have had a dry place to sleep now.

So moments after he's setteled himself behind the wheel, she slips in on the other side with all the grace and dignity of a half-drowned kitten.

"What the FUCK ARE YOU DOING, SCUM!" Squalo roars.

She glares at him balefully. "I need a ride."

"VOI! GET THE FUCK OUT!"

Harry demonstratively grabs her braided hair and starts wringing the water out. "No. It's raining."

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE!" Squalo is practically frothing at the mouth. He looks like he wants to kill her even more than he did the last time they saw each other. But it's going to be damn hard to do with a sword in the not-exactly-spacious car, and merely kicking her out would require him to actually catch her, and with her small build and high agility, not to mention the mosquitoes, she has the advantage in the car. Oh, no doubt he could do it, but the question is how long it would take and how much damage the vehicle would suffer - and Harry would make damn sure it wouldn't be able to drive.

"Just drive," she orders.

"VOI! OUT OF MY FUCKING CAR!"

"I've got at least two hitmen after me, so no." Harry crosses her arms to hide her shiver in the cold. "Forget it."

...okay, so she's pretty sure she shook them off in Rome, but Squalo doesn't need to know that.

He gapes for a moment. "The fuck did a little brat like you do to get a hit on your ass?"

He isn't yelling anymore, so Harry counts that as a success.

"Get driving and I'll tell you," she challenges. Squalo glares. And glares. And finally turns the key, the motor coming to life. The car starts to move.

Warm air streams in, and Harry almost sighs in relief as she peels off her soaked jacket and kicks off her boots and socks. Squalo's eye twitches when she sits crosslegged in her seat.

It's been a while since she last sat in a car. Harry isn't a fan of enclosed spaces.

"Voi! Get fucking talking!" Squalo orders.

"Yes, yes!" Harry rolls her eyes. "So, the Bovino are being surprisingly bad sports about having the result of nearly two decades of research stolen from them."

Nevermind that they'd had a second bazooka right there, and a half-finished one on the table. Seriously, it's not like she stole the research itself.

Squalo sputters. "You stole the fucking Ten-Year-Bazooka," he states in disbelief. "You got past the security system of the shitty Family that discovered the fucking secret to motherfucking time-travel."

Harry, currently in the process of trying to call on her Sun Flames and miserably failing - seriously, she's freezing , but she can't dry herself with Mist or Rain, those don't give off heat - shrugs. "Yeah well, the security system was insane, but the people behind it were incompetent. Talk too much, y'know?" Which had saved her arse, actually.

"You got fucking caught, shitty brat," Squalo sneers. "You're one to fucking talk about incompetence."

"Screw you!" Harry snaps.

"Watch your fucking language!"

"Go to hell, You Little Piece of Shit! They only know it was me 'cause the Family I stole the bazooka for got pissed because I gave them the bazooka and not the ammo and they didn't cotton on that they got screwed over until a week later." And boy was Harry smug about that one. She loves being a thief, but her clients tend to be smarmy gits, and that time, they'd been smarmy gits wanting to mess with time. She'd seriously gotten a kick out of charging them through the nose only to screw them over. "When they did figure it out, they went blabbing about who it was they hired. Which was really dumb 'cause now they gotta deal with Mafia Land lawyers because of a breach in discretion, and they got the Bovino pissed at them, not to mention all the other science-oriented Famiglias."

Squalo snorts, completely unimpressed. "So that was the reason behind all that fucking bullshit?"

"Yep," Harry says, not even surprised that he knew about the skirmishes caused in the wake of her little stunt. "It'd be a lot funnier if someone in the Bovino hadn't put out a hit on me. And I was going to find out who exactly did that today, but guess how that went?" She shoots a glare at Squalo.

"Shitty brat, a few hitmen never hurt anyone," Squalo dismisses her.

"That doesn't make any bloody sense!" she yelps. "Look, they shot at me!"

"You're way too fucking loud to be dead," he grunts. "Musta been one shitty hitman."

"Well, yeah, bullet-proof jacket on my part and shitty aim on theirs, but that's not the point!" Harry gestures wildly. "I need that hit cancelled before Hayato finds out and puts me under house arrest! Which I can't do unless I know who exactly placed that hit!"

"What would you even fucking do?" Squalo demands.

"Rob them blind until they can't afford the hit anymore. Gather blackmail. Get their account details and hand them over to whoever wants them." Harry scowls. "It's not rocket science, Lord of Shit."

"Voi! Stop calling me that, shitty brat!"

"It's your name! And - where the fuck are we driving!"

"Florence."

"I only wanted a ride to the train station!" Harry shrieks.

"Tough shit! Shouldn'ta fucking got into the damn car, then!"

Harry curses. Viciously.

"Voi! Language, shitty brat!"

"Screw you, Lord of Shitty Hypocrites!" Harry descends into vicious mutterings. Hayato really was going to kill her. Shamal probably too. Argh.

"So you managed to fucking get out of the Bovino base alive," Squalo says. "Unrecognised and after stealing their most fucking prized possession."

Harry shoots him her best death glare. It's not very effective. As previously stated, she's currently rocking the half-drowned-kitten look, and is way too adorable in general. Which is why she usually charms her way through Mafia life, in fact, she's quite proud of being well-tempered, but somehow, Superbi You-Little-Piece-of-Shit Squalo brings out the worst in her. She's cursed more in this one conversation than she did in the whole past year.

"I'm fucking good at what I do," she growls out. After her friendship with Hayato, her ability as a thief is what she takes the most pride in.

Squalo stays silent, brow furrowed, as he drives on the highway, and Harry really hasn't got a damn clue where the hell they are. (Kill her. Hayato was going to kill her. Yell at her, and then kill her.)

"You aren't talking," she states. "Or yelling. Or otherwise making noise. Why."

Squalo flicks something to her. A little piece of plastic that she snatches from the air almost on reflex. A card. With a number on it, the Varia Logo, and elegant script spelling: Varia Recruitment Office.

"No," she says instantly. "Forget it. I can't stomach Varia work. And I don't know enough languages."

"Keep the number anyway, shitty brat," Squalo says.

She throws him a suspicious look and pockets the card. She'd have to hide it from Hayato. He'd freak if he knew. Actually, he'd freak if he knew anything of what she's been up to since the day he left. What's the worst that could happen in two months, yeah right her bloody arse.

"Where's your fucking limit, shitty brat?" the Varia Commander who just offered her a job asks her.

"What d'you mean?" she asks, frowning.

"You stole from Bovino. Who wouldn't you steal from?"

He isn't cursing. That's got to mean something. So she furrows her brow and thinks. "Vongola," she finally says. "Don't really know 'bout any others."

"Tomaso," Squalo suggests.

"I'd do it." Harry nods.

"Carcassa."

"Deserve to be taken down, and I'll gladly volunteer."

"Giegue."

"Heard they're vicious bastards... but yeah, I'd do it."

"CEDEF," Squalo says with a weird undertone in his voice that she can't place.

Harry's eyebrows shoot up. Okay, this conversation is going into dangerous territory. "Isn't that the same thing as Vongola, really?" she asks carefully.

"No."

She bites her lip, staring down at her hands. CEDEF. Outside Advisors to Vongola. Primarily intelligence-oriented, and formidable at that. Vongola but not Vongola, led by a separate boss known as the 'Young Lion'. Rumour has it they have an Arcobaleno working for them.

"...I wouldn't," she finally says. "But," she continues slowly before Squalo can start yelling or killing or whatever. "I might be convinced if they either pissed me off enough - which is kind of hard to do - or if someone I liked enough was asking." By which she means Hayato. "And the payment would have to be bloody fucking good."

"Free passage," Squalo says.

Harry's mouth drops open. "Are you fucking serious?"

Free passage. In other words, a get-out-of-jail-free coupon, no questions asked. Basically, if she ever pissed the Varia off, they'd let her go once she cashed that in. As far as payment goes... it couldn't get any better. Then again, she has no plans to piss the Varia off ever.

"A fucking one-time deal," Squalo growls at her. "For you or for a person of your choice, provided they aren't direct enemies of the Vongola."

It really couldn't get any better.

"...theoretically, what would I be looking for?" Harry asks. "I'm not making any promises, and I'm nowhere near ready for that kind of job, but I might look into it someday. Maybe. If they piss me off, or if I like you enough. Both seriously unlikely."

"A pair of guns," Squalo growls out, his hands tightening on the wheel. "Those bastards have no fucking right to keep them."

"Guns, got it," Harry mumbles. "How do I recognise them?"

"Voi, you'll fucking know when you see them." Squalo cuts her a vicious look that freezes her in her seat. "You breathe one word of this-"

"I won't," Harry cuts him off, shooting him an offended look. "So long as you don't piss me off, we never had this conversation." She holds her hand out. "We got a deal?"

Squalo stares at her hand like a poisonous viper before he gives her the world's shortest handshake. "Deal."

"Goody." Harry burrows deeper into her seat and yawns. "Mind if I sleep? I kinda forgot yesterday. And the day before."

"Are you a fucking idiot."

"Hayato's at Storm Camp, he couldn't remind me from there," Harry says reasonably. "Well, g'night. Don't drive into a tree."

"I'm fucking Varia Quality, shitty brat!" he bellows.

"Yeah, yeah." Harry curls up on her seat. "Whatever."

And with that, she falls asleep.

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