Amid the din, it is difficult to hear anything. The cacophony of sound engulfs the silence and your eardrums are held prisoner to an endless noise. You can no longer hear my voice.

Disclaimer: Kateikyoushi Hitman Reborn (along with its characters, etc) is the work of Amano Akira. Original Character(s) belong to Yellow-sama.

Song Inspiration: Home - Tablo feat Lee Sora

Like the banging of a drum played to a steady rhythm of three beats then two that repeat once the sequence is completed, Basilio stared down at the polished black shoes belonging to the leader of the organization he despised with a burning passion. He did not make any movement to stare up defiantly at the small audience of males in the room. He remained silent and calm, waiting with every breath he took.

It took everything I had to cross the doorstep into the nono's office. My trembling hands with sweaty palms and icy cold digits clench into tighter balls at the sides of my body. I couldn't swallow down the heaviness in my throat and I felt more acutely aware of my dried lips and numbed tongue. I felt nauseous.

The small click alluding to the closing of the office's door was the only sound I heard. The group of six men studied the young man sitting on his knees, head bowed down with his arms tied behind his back. He looked like he was prostrating himself on the ground, begging all that was holy for forgiveness and compassion. But, the crowd surrounding Basilio could not offer him this pardon he sought.

And that's what scared me.

He looked like he was going to breathe his last breath.

The silver haired second spoke softly into the ear of his superior. The nono's saddened countenance was unaffected by the whispered words and his eyes flickered over to meet my own. I inhaled sharply because it felt like we were the only people in the room and his eyes bore into my soul, trying to rip apart the person who is Amaranta, in order to ascertain the situation.

With every second passing in that room, I felt the blood in my cheeks draining its colour and I kept getting paler and paler. The feeling of being scrutinized is a far more painful nerve-wracking experience than being judged before the eyes of someone else. By being judged by someone else, you could sense what the other person was thinking. But, when someone is staring through you and at you at the same time, while deconstructing all the cells of your body to uncover its secrets, you were left with the unknown. Who knows what the hell they were thinking while staring at you! Their eyes focused; so deeply concentrated upon you that you cannot read the other person's thoughts from their expression which leaves you with your bare-ass naked heart on your sleeve.

The only thing I knew for sure was that Basilio was a part of the Sentenza. I didn't know how long he had been a member of the group or whether he had killed anyone, covering his hands with blood, made crooked for the sake of his own conviction. I knew about his blinding hatred toward the Mafia world and those in it. He believed that he was doing the right thing, even though the means could never hope to justify the cause. All I had were his words.

And he did save me thrice.

But was that enough for me to honestly believe that he was a good person?

No, it couldn't.

The nono breaks eye contact with me and returns his gaze to the offender in question, "What is your name?"

…Or could it?

Basilio held his tongue.

I just wasn't sure anymore.

It was quicker than my mind could process. Coyote's leg rose and kicked Basilio's chin upward with such force, Basilio's head snapped backward and there was a loud crack. I wince at the sound and I immediately thought his jaw was broken.

A hand grabs onto the back of my hair and yanks me upward. The roots scream out in anguish and I yelp but my voice cracks.

He didn't cry out in pain, but I could see the blank facade on his face. He bared the pain with a blackening chin, his lips and nostrils coated in red and his back laid flat on the ground. Basilio stared up at the ceiling, unmoving. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

I reach my hands to release the blonde bastard's grip on me, but I can't summon up the strength. I gasp, trying to fill my lungs with air.

"Don't forget that you are now under the mercy of the Vongola's nono, you piece of trash," Coyote peers down at him, "Answer him; now."

But my throat constricts and the pressure which forms in my chest, forces my eyes wide open.

I stared down at Basilio's face, watching his watery eyes cloud over, but his lips look as if they were drawn in a thin line. I knew what he was thinking. He wasn't going to speak. He was being too stubborn.

I'm suffocating.

I couldn't help but feel tears burn at the corner of my own eyes. My vision was blurring and I bent my head low, looking away from Basilio. I couldn't stand to look at him. These tears were going to break free, I know it. I feel my shoulders trembling and my nostrils clogging up. I force down the imaginary heavy bulge in my throat and exhale deeply. I had to calm down. I had to calm down. I had to calm down.

Chestnut brown eyes blink at me through long lashes and his brows are slightly furrowed in concern. His physical stature nearly fools me into thinking that he's a girl. His voice is faint in my ears, "Are you alright?"

Even if he was the enemy in their eyes,he... didn't deserve this!

My knees give way and I slowly collapse to the ground, releasing a shuddered breath. I feel all their eyes on me. I gaze up into the eyes of the nono.

My voice sounds so muted in this room, "Please, don't hurt him anymore."

I feel the burn of Coyote's furious glare on me and I hear him scoff, "It was a mistake for me to bring you in here. Escort her out Schnitten."

Schnitten was a dark haired man with an X-shaped scar on his right cheek and an angular jaw; he strides over to me and grips onto my arm, but I wrench it away from him. I didn't understand how I conjured up the inner strength to do it, but I manage to glare right back at Coyote with every fiber of my being.

A burning sensation rises up and fuels me to stand up against him. He reminded me of the Sentenza and how they treated me. Was it the right thing to start defying the "good guys" in this situation? Were the Vongola the "good guys" just like how the Sentenza were the "bad guys"? What was good and what was bad? Did it matter right now in this moment? My mind was becoming muddled, but one thing was clear, I couldn't stand for the abuse Basilio was receiving.

I was becoming the star actress in the drama set before me when I shouldn't be.

I didn't understand why I felt the need to speak. I didn't understand where my sense of heroism came from. Maybe because I was feeling sympathetic since I experienced the same kind of trauma. Maybe I was being stupid. All I had were these maybes…

In my career as a journalist, my teachers told me to be wary of the media. Although journalists used it as a means to create a story, the media would love to uncover any bits of information they could grab if a journalist held a prominent role in the story. It would mar the reputation of the journalist, leaving an indelible scar. They would lose credibility, the one thing that journalists need to preserve. It didn't matter if journalists were seen as the sensationalist bastards that everyone made them out to be or any other derogatory title. They are given a paycheck to tell the truths about the world around them because that's all they had.

"He… he doesn't deserve this, this abuse," I began and I take a pause. My voice dies with the last word. They were staring at me. All of them and Coyote's eyes did not betray his annoyance.

Feigning curiosity, his eyebrows rise and left me with a sense of being mocked, "Oh? And what right do you have to say that?"

My eyes widen and his words resound in my head.

What right? What right did I have...?!

"I have no right, but neither do you." I tightly grip the black fabric of my dress between my fingers and my voice slowly regains its strength after every word I spoke. The anger I felt broiling in my blood, instigated this brashness and I didn't feel scared, I couldn't feel scared, "He's a human being which is more than I can say for you."

To my surprise, Coyote didn't react in anger. I really thought that he would be downright pissed off, but he snorts at my response instead. What the fuck did he find funny?

"Let me be clear about human beings and their so called rights, they don't apply in the Mafia world. No one is human." A small smile crosses his lips, but they don't reach his eyes burning with hard cold fury, "Every Vongola member can tell you that they have revoked their 'human rights' for the famiglia. To be called human is an insult, it's an overused overvalued term used to garner sympathy. It's a word of the weak."

"And that naivety of yours can only take you so far," Coyote continues, his eyes still boring into my own before staring down at Basilio's broken body, "Placing your trust in scum like him will only get you killed. I suggest that you smarten up."

It feels like a long while before I chose to respond to Coyote in kind. The answer was on the tip of my tongue and it felt natural to say what I did.

"You're right, I don't know much about the Mafia world and I'll never be able to fully comprehend it." I release the tension in my fingers and smooth out the crinkles in my dress.

"But as an outsider, I can't agree with what's being done here and you might not give a rat's ass about what I think. I just… I don't know if he is a good person or not, but he's done a lot for me in the same way that the Vongola has. At this point, I don't think he's done anything wrong, "I gaze down at Basilio who is looking up at me with his chestnut brown eyes, "If I can't hope to trust in someone like him, then it's even harder for me to trust in people like you of the Vongola for the exact same reason."

Coyote chuckles cruelly before his expression transformed into that of anger, "You blind fool…"

"Before we think of doing anything rash to the boy, Coyote, we should interrogate him," I didn't realize the speaker was in the room before he spoke out. Reborn was standing to the right hand side of the nono by a large bookcase and a vase of white lilies.

Coyote looks over his shoulder at the Vongola's nono for a response.

"We need his word as evidence after all," Reborn gazed downward at the carpeted ground and over to Basilio.

The nono nods at Reborn's advice, "Of course. Visconti."

Coyote's displeased expression on his face was enough to make me feel pleased with myself. I had to give it to Reborn though… even if this small attempt to save Basilio was only a temporary solution. I felt relieved, for now.

"After deliberation from Visconti, the Vongola will decide what to do with the affiliate of the Sentenza," The nono announced.

Visconti was a man with a squared jaw, slicked back hair and a growing beard; he approached Basilio and gripped him by the collar, picking him up singlehandedly from the carpeted office floor. Basilio bent his knees which allowed him to push off the ground and onto his feet. Visconti exits the office with Basilio in tow with Schnitten, Coyote, and the two other nameless men in the room.

As Basilio passed me by to enter the hallway, I see him mouthing a word to me, 'thanks'.

That left me alone with the Vongola's nono and Reborn. Pushing the ground with my arms, I lifted my body up with the help of my heeled feet. But an open palmed hand makes itself known in my line of vision and I look up to see Reborn offering me his hand.

Wordlessly, I accepted the sentiment and then dusted off the sides of my dress with my hands.

Reborn looks over to the nono, "We'll be taking our leave now, nono."

The leader of the great mafia family nods in acknowledgement then walks behind his desk, and sits on his chair.

I follow behind Reborn but am stopped by the nono himself, "Ms. Russo."

I turn around to give him my full attention.

"Return here tomorrow."

I bow my head and exit the room, closing the door behind me.

Reborn turns left down the hallway and I follow behind him. If I had to lower my head to him in thanks, then I guess today was going to be one of those days. I lick my upper lip and before I could even speak, he said to me, "Even though I intervened, that small attempt has little effect on what the Vongola has planned for that boy."

Oh.

…So, was it all in vain then?

I didn't want to know the answer to my question, but I still felt that the question had to be made, "What will happen to him?"

"What do you think will happen?" Reborn walks down a case of stairs and I look at his back, still standing at the top step. I don't say anything.

"If they're kind, he'll be killed," Reborn places his hands in his pockets as he stands at the bottom of the staircase, "What they'll most likely do is toy with the boy, extract all the information they can and dispose of everyone he loves."

I take a sharp intake of breath when Reborn makes this next comment, "They'll force him to watch every little moment until the end. He'll wish he were dead."

He'll wish he were dead.

I shakily made my way down the stairs, tightly gripping onto the cold black banister but I feel my hand is slipping. I take a pause on the fifth step and lean against the banister for support. I bow my head down so that the end of my chin touches my collar bone. Taking a long deep breath, I exhale slowly from my nose and the last of my breath exits from my lips. I feel my shoulders relaxing, releasing the tension from the back of my neck.

But, I still felt anxious.

I continue the walk down the stairs and pass through two doors and make a right, then left turn. I trail behind Reborn now. We were at least five steps apart.

Basilio...

I tried to clear my thoughts, but I couldn't. I failed to make my case in the nono's office. I couldn't save him like he did for me. Now, he would either die swiftly or suffer through hell, begging for death to take him.

Shutting the door behind me, Reborn walks into the kitchen area and I hear the sink running water. I remain standing at the doorway. I notice that he walks over to me with a glass of water and forces the glass into my hands. It's cold on my hot skin.

"Calm down your nerves and get some sleep," He strides over to his own room, "you'll need the rest."

Hearing the door to his bedroom shut closed; I take a sip of the water. The refreshing taste doesn't make me feel any better. I down the rest of the liquid, tilting my head back so that I could gulp it quick. I exhale, placing the empty glass on the counter. I drag my feet towards the makeshift guest bedroom, ignoring the little voice in my head that was telling me to go and wash the cosmetic products off my face. I felt too mentally exhausted to honestly give a fuck.

It's a small comfy little room that was next door to Reborn's study. I don't bother flicking open the lights and I don't bother changing into my regular sleeping wear that constituted of a large white t-shirt that draped over my whole body and a pair of thin dark grey three quarter pants. Hell, I don't even close the door of my room, leaving it open a crack and letting a little breeze in.

I kick off the black high heels into a random corner of the room, beside a light brown wooden chair where I draped a dark blue cardigan and other miscellaneous clothing on top of one another. Slipping my fingers underneath the folds of the black dress, I tug my skin toned panty hose off my legs, nearly ripping a hole or two in them. Fuck, I didn't want to buy another pair.

Reaching behind by bending my arm at the elbow, I pull down the little zipper that was sewn on the back of the dress, wiggling myself out of the dress. The fabric pools onto the ground and I step out of the dress in my bra and panties. I'm tempting to just strip myself down to nothing, but I'm too lazy to even do that. I pull the clips from my hair, letting the long curls bounce freely before landing on my shoulder blades. Stretching my arms behind me, I arch my back and topple backwards onto my bed.

Shit.

I stare up at the ceiling of the dark room and I spot a spider crawling towards the window of the room. I watch its tiny spindly legs carrying its equally small body race across the ceiling, entering a little crack underneath the window pane and disappearing into the night.

I roll onto my side, burying my face into the sheets of my bed. My hair falls into the side of my face and I blow the random strands away, letting them fall where they did.

Soon enough, I closed my eyes and let myself fall where I did.

"Ey mia bambina, finally come for ah visit, eh?" My grandfather's stern countenance melded away to reveal a wide grin. I stared at his familiar figure staring at me from the doorstep of my only home. It was just the same as I remembered it with its thick red roof, crumbly brick walls and greenery surrounding it on all sides. "Well, ah whattah yah standin' round for? Come give yah nonno a hug!"

I run up the steps of the little two story house and enter his warm embrace. His long arms wrap themselves snuggly around my waist and I bury my head in his neck, inhaling his natural greasy sweaty scent. It used to gross me out ever since I was younger. To be covered from head to toe in sweat and dirt from working hard and running to and fro in the field out back, those days seem so long and far away. I hated working on the farm, waking such early mornings until late at night to tire out my arms and legs to the point where I couldn't even move them anymore. I missed it. I missed home.

"I'm home," I whisper into the shell of his ear. I could feel his grin falter a bit, and a little tear pricks the side of my face.

Grabbing my suitcase from out of my hands, nonno pulls himself away first, trying to regain his 'manly' composure. He lifted the suitcase, nearly dropping it, "Fuck mia bambina, the hell'sah in this damn thing? Is it yur whole fuckin' apartment?"

I fight back a smile and I stay there on the porch for a second longer. Taking in the full view of the countryside that I left behind for the city with its rolling hills and vast spaces of green, trees and wide blue sky were all things that I rarely ever saw in the city. I guess it as because I was mostly hauling my ass everywhere that I never got to stand in one place to enjoy the scenery. It made my heart feel lighter and before I can spout anymore clichéd bullshit, I felt so comfortable. I spot the grove of fruit bushes and trees in the distance, recalling the small adventures I would take on with the other kids in the area. I think my favorite game was playing hide and seek because I was small enough to dart into the bushes for safety. I was the best at hiding away from the others and no one would ever find where I was until my grandmother would call us away for a picnic lunch.

I guess that never really changed when I got into the city. I kept a small profile and worked hard to get what I wanted. I never spoke back to my superiors; I accepted everything that was thrown at me with a bitten tongue. I landed the job of my dreams only to find that it was more complicated than what I initially imagined it to be. But then, nothing in life is ever exactly how we imagined it. I felt comfortable, but not wholly satisfied with my life in the city. Maybe being a journalist wasn't the right job for me, but then… what could I have done instead? Stayed on the farm with my nonno and take over it once he passed on? It would have been the easier thing to do.

"Get in an' ah put back yah shit!" My nonno's booming voice calls for me inside of the house. I let out a loud snort and shout back a "Yeah, I'm coming."

I pass through the doorway of the house and I feel this sudden coldness clench itself around my throat. The house is silent. I hear the ticking of the clock in the kitchen and nothing more. My feet cross the threshold and I enter the living room, but no one is there to greet me.

I call out, "Nonno? Nonno, where'd you go?"

I walk out of the living room and head towards the bedrooms up on the second floor, thinking that he was relaxing in his room after lugging that huge suitcase of my own into my room. Walking toward the door to my left, I knock on the door and notice that the door was already open. I push it aside and see the figure in the black suit standing in front of the open window. I recognize his sunken dark purple flesh where red begins to bleed through, his gaunt blank eyes staring into my own face. What the hell was he doing here? He takes a careful step forward and then another, attempting to slowly close the distance between us. I immediately pull back and shut the door of my grandfather's room closed. I race down the stairs without looking back.

"Nonno? Nonno?! Where are you? Answer me!" I scream, rushing outside. I yank open the front door and head out into the light.

But the world turns black before me and my mind doesn't compute this abrupt change.

Sitting limply in a metal chair, Basilio's head lolls to the side and blood covers the entire lower half of his face and stains his shirt. A hand pulls a dark cloth bag over his head and I hear the cock of a gun pressed against the back of his head.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You know that it's your fault that he's going to die.

No. No. No.

It's sad really. You're so pathetic that you couldn't even save him.

PLEASE.

Now he's dead.

I will my legs to move forward, but I can't move from my spot. I'm frozen. I open my mouth, but no sound passes through.

Oh dear god.

And you'll be next.

I close my eyes once the gunshot resounds painfully in my head.

And all I could do was pitifully curl myself up and cry.

Footsteps approach me from the front and my eyes look up to see Reborn's emotionless face. His cold gun cocked to the front of my head, "The nono decided that you're useless to keep around."

There is another click.

Yellow-Sama says... I'm trying my best to update as much as I can during this winter break. I don't know if this will heavily affect my writing quality and if it does, then I greatly apologize for it. I want to thank AcrobalenoLove and Guest for the reviews and everyone else who is still reading this story of mine. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and I'll keep doing my best!