Hello again ^^

Updates fast as you've noticed because I wrote this chapter before the previous one (logical I know). To answer Bloody0thorn's question: no I don't have set dates. I try to publish chapters as regularly as I can but it's mostly when I've written a chapter that I update. As I don't want to write crappy chapters, I wait to be inspired to write and I have to admit I'm not always inspired especially since I remembered my Jade Potter fic ^^

So there!

Don't forget to review (though you are all very good at reviewing usually), I wasn't too sure about this chapter and even less sure about the next one so give me some feedback.

Oh! And by the way, this chapter and the next one are flashbacks. Which is why it's written in italic.

Italy, Strana Famiglia facility

Reborn was fed up. He had set out early that morning in order to wipe out a small and (in his opinion) worthless Famiglia affiliated to the Estrangeo. The Strana Famiglia specialized in scientific and medical research. They had been allied to the most powerful Mafia family, the Vongola, but had fallen in disgrace after they had been revealed to experiment on children. Because the current boss of the Vongola wished to keep the matter of the Strana Famiglia a secret, he had hired an outsider to do the job. He had contacted Reborn, the number one hitman, also famous for being freelance despite the many offers he had received from various famiglias. He was pledged to no one, knew the meaning of discretion and was unrivalled in his line of work. In one word, he was perfect for the task.

This was the reason why the hitman was now roaming the deserted corridors of the Strana's so-called 'medical facility'. He had barged in a few hours earlier and killed all those he could see. He was now chasing after the last living Strana. He wasn't making any effort to hurry as he was pretty sure he would catch up to the man whatever he did. He had shot the scientist a few minutes before, so it was only a matter of time before he found him collapsed or dead somewhere.

Thanks to his sharp hearing, he heard the faint sound of panting that came from further down the hallway and he knew that the man was reaching his end. He quickened his pace slightly, eager to be done with the tiresome task. He rounded a corner and found himself facing a dead end. He didn't hesitate to walk forward and enter the room on the left side of the corridor. Kicking the metal door open, he stepped in, his trusty green gun raised in front of him.

There was the man in the white blouse, dragging himself on the floor, leaving trails of red liquid as he went. He looked over his shoulder and stared horrified at the raised gun. A gunshot later, it was over. The man lay dead in a pool of his own blood, his expression frozen in a mask of terror. One of his hands stretched in front of him as if reaching for something. Mildly curious as to what his victim had hoped to do, Reborn let his gaze trail up. And as he caught sight of the man's objective, he froze.

It was a child. A boy with skin so pale that it was almost transparent, a tuft of light brown hair and a white hospital shirt that reached his knees. But it was his eyes that caught the famous hitman off guard. There were big brown and…empty. He could almost see himself reflected in them: a tall young man in a black suit, face half-hidden under his black fedora, gun still pointing at the dead body at his feet. There should have been fear, or at least surprise. There was nothing.

"Who are you?" asked the man, suddenly shifting his gun towards the boy.

He may be a child, hardly older than two or three, but he was in the facility of a Mafia Famiglia and he couldn't afford to put his guard down.

The boy blinked and for some unfathomable reason, Reborn felt relieved. At least the boy wasn't some kind of human puppet. That, he thought, would have been creepy even for hiim.

Slowly, as if he half-asleep, the boy's expression turned to confusion. It occurred to the hitman that the boy might not understand Italian. He didn't look Italian now that he thought about it. The way his eyes were shaped he would be tempted to say Asian.

Deciding the boy was not a danger at the moment, the dark haired man started searching the room. A quick glance around told him that apart from the bed on which the boy was sitting, there was only the large desk that took up all the width of the opposite wall and which was covered in various devices. He spotted a few files that had been taken out and marched over to them. It seemed someone had been in the process of adding information to them.

The young man scanned its contents, surveying the child from the corner of his eye. He froze once again as he stared disbelievingly at the information in front of him.

"That bastard!" he swore, reading the boy's name again and again.

After a few moments, he took a decision. Placing the folded file in the inside pocket of his suit, he turned away from the desk and walked back to the bed. In a few strides, he was in front of the boy, trying to recall the correct way to speak Japanese.

"Your name is Tsunayoshi, right?" he asked the boy, speaking deliberately slowly.

The child stared at him wide-eyed, and this time Reborn thought he could make the tiniest light of wariness. At last, the boy nodded, his gaze never leaving the hitman.

"Do you know why you're here?"

The boy didn't seem to understand the question or maybe he simply didn't know for he remained completely silent. Reborn sighed. He hadn't signed up for this. Maybe he should just kill the kid and be done with it. But the more he looked at the frail child, the less he felt like shooting a bullet to his heart. He sighed again heavily.

"Come on." he told the boy in japanese. "You're coming with me."

He turned around and started walking to the door. Once there, he turned back towards the unmoving boy.

"Hurry up." he snapped started to feel seriously annoyed.

This got the child moving and in quick motions that contrasted with his earlier slowness, Tsunayoshi went to stand a few feet behind Reborn. The man snorted vaguely amused. The boy showed mistrust uncommon in children of his age, a trait that would ensure he survived a little longer in that kind of world.

Reborn stepped through the doorway and made his way through the corridors towards the facilities entrance. He looked over his shoulder from time to time to check the boy was keeping up with him. It came as a nice surprise to him that the boy showed no weakness. He trailed behind the hitman, keeping some distance between them but never failing. Once or twice, the distance grew wider and Reborn had to stop to let the boy catch up.

As they neared the main doors, the corpse of one of the scientists came into vision. Reborn passed by him without so much as a glance but stopped when he noticed the regular tip-tap of the boy's bare feet on the floor had stopped.

"What is it?" he asked the boy who had stopped a little distance away from the corpse.

The boy didn't reply immediately, his brown eyes fixed on the corpse. He examined the dead for a few moments and upon seeing he was not about to move again, raised his eyes to the man clad in black.

"You?" asked the boy in a whisper that seemed to echo in the empty corridor.

Reborn understood the question at once.

"Yes, I killed him." he replied emotionlessly.

The boy's gaze unnerved him though he didn't show it. He couldn't tell whether the kid was happy with that fact or not. He got his answer when Tsunayoshi crossed the distance that separated them and grabbed Reborn's hand.

The hitman nearly jumped upon feeling the warm little hand slip in his. He had half-expected the boy's skin to feel cold to the touch but it was warm. In fact, he wondered if it was perhaps a bit too warm. The boy was supposed to have health problems so it wasn't too much of a stretch to think he might have a fever. He had to get him to a doctor as soon as he could.

He swore internally. This was turning out to be a lot more troublesome than he had first thought. But as they stepped outside the facility and he felt the small hand tighten around his, he found himself thinking that he didn't mind that much.

Italy, a few hours later

"So how did you come by him, anyway?"

Reborn eyed the blouse-wearing man quizzically, as the doctor lit a cigarette.

"I don't feel inclined to tell you, Shamal." he answered coolly.

The man glanced at him unfazed by the hitman's coldness.

"You realize he might not make it?" asked Shamal casually, observing the tiny boy sleeping on the sofa.

Reborn nodded curtly. Shamal caught the gesture from the corner of his eye. He hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his hairy chin.

"There's something I could try…" he said cautiously. "But it'll require your active help. Also, don't even think of making me go through the trouble of developing the medicine if you don't intend to take care of him. I'm not taking him and if you're going to dump anyway, we might as well just let him die."

Reborn growled. He couldn't say he was looking forward to looking after a three year old kid (according to the file) but it would leave a bad after taste to just let him die.

A muffled sub cut through the silence, and both men turned to look at the boy. His face had scrunched up into a kind of scared frown and a fat tear had escaped his closed eyelid. His hands were balled into tiny fists and Reborn felt a pang of some undiscernible feeling. He could tell the kid would be a lot more trouble than he was worse. He was probably going to have to change his whole damn way of life for the brat. But even as he argued with himself, he knew the sight of the broken kid would weigh heavily on his mind if he abandoned him.

"I'll take care of him. Just do it." he snapped finally, lowering his fedora to hide his eyes.