La Famiglia

A/N So… while writing I kept having to skim through the whole thing and while doing so suddenly got fixated on this monstrosity. Do I regret it? No. Do I blame my blatant favouritism of Time Travel fanfiction? Hell Yes.

It's a sudden change but I hope you like it as much as I do. I would appreciate it if you tell me how you feel about the changes but other than that I wish you a good reading.

(Y/M/D)

Edited: 2020.08.13 – Added text + spelling check

Edited: 2020.08.14 – Now a Time Travelish Au. Added text.

+ I'm not going into too much detail on how Xanxus feels about his new gender in this chapter. I'm not too good with the realistic part of it and am probably going to end up editing it later.

Prologue

Weary, is the word in which the ageing Xanxus di Varia would choose to describe himself if asked.

Many who had known him since his adolescent years commented on how ironic this was. This fact was not lost to Xanxus himself as he had no doubt that if the ill-tempered boy of his youth could see him now, there would have been a bullet to his head in seconds.

The mere thought of this exchange greatly amused him to the point it would bring a smirk to his wrinkled features.

People tended to think it was his old age that had caused this change of character. Truthfully though, the Italian's personality hadn't changed that much from his younger years. It was only that, with time, he'd learnt to keep the more brash side of his temperament in check.

The only contrast he could find was the fact that nowadays there wasn't much that could agitate him to the point where he'd withdraw his gun.

Some thought this was proof he was finally starting to go senile and to be honest, Xanxus couldn't argue with that point.

It could be said that the fact he'd never considered the possibility of surviving this long had mainly contributed to his nonchalant attitude towards their idle speculations. His current circumstances also had its hand in his rather moderate response, but the others didn't have to know that.

Tobacco and alcohol have been never things the former Head Commander of Varia limited himself with. The only time he'd ever restricted himself at all had been 12 years ago, during his treatment for the tumour that had grown in his lungs.

He'd quickly gone back to his bad habits after the tumour had been taken care of. This hadn't sat well with anyone besides himself but he hadn't given them room to argue. Xanxus had almost had the last laugh when for over 12 years there had been nothing near concerning that showed in his medical exams. It was only recently that it appeared that the cancer was showing signs of remerging.

What started small soon made its way deep into his bones. It ate away at everything, even his flames. It would be months, maybe even weeks until he died but for some reason, Xanxus couldn't find himself to care.

Lung cancer is not the way he would have chosen to go but it had always been a possibility. He'd known the risks and frankly didn't regret what it had resulted in.

He's dying, plain and simple.

Death is not something he is unfamiliar with. Nor is it something he fears.

Even before he'd been taken in by the Vongola Famiglia, death had always been a constant component of his everyday life.

Death is death. No one is afraid of death. What they fear is what comes after.

Xanxus di Varia, the man who once held seat as the Head Commander of the Independent Assassination Squad known as Varia, is not someone with these fears.

"If I die, I die. If I go to Hell, I go to Hell. Don't get worked up about something this trivial."

"VOI! This isn't something you can shrug off of like that!"

Saying Squalo hadn't taken the news well would be an understatement. It didn't help that Xanxus had informed him whilst handing over the paperwork for the swordsman's transition from Second-in-Command to Head Commander.

The change in command had been done in much silence. Not many even knew of the altercation as they scarcely ever saw either man.

After he'd taken care of his retirement, Xanxus had taken residence in one of his privately owned estates. He had a live-in nurse to take care of his medical needs but besides her, the only outsider to step foot in the place was Squalo.

"Just how long are you going to come here, Trash?"

The swordsman's visits irritated the older Italian enough that he let his old verbal tick loose. It irked him to no ends, but in the end, he just let him do as he pleased.

To add to his annoyance, Xanxus slowly started to feel the ramifications of his worsening health. For the most part, drugs kept the pain at bay. But soon there came a time where he would spend most of the day asleep, his consciousness blurred and his speech noncoherent when he was awake.

It wasn't long after that that finally, Xanxus di Varia was no more…

Xanxus hadn't known he had died, at first.

It took longer for him to even process that he'd been sent back in time. This was mainly due to the fact that there hadn't been much difference between a newborn's mobility and his own.

He'd only realised his own predicament when he recognised the pasty white features of the woman he'd once called 'mamma'.

Xanxus had never seen the woman after being taken in by Nono. She had died by the time he even sought her out.

There weren't many fond memories he had with his mother, but enough that he had torn down a part of Vongola HQ upon realising just how much time had passed since her death.

Vongola had left her to die. They had left one of their own perish to the winter cold. But had they?

Famiglia extended to any kin of their members. But had he really been one of them?

Had Xanxus di Varia belong to Vongola? Yes.

Had the street rat picked up by Vongola Nono? No.

By the time he had officially become Xanxus di Vongola, it would have already been too late.

The anger he had learnt to keep under control slowly tried to emerge from within. His flames long to be released and wreak havoc once more. It was hard to reject the pure instinct to release but he had to.

His mother was already mentally unstable enough. It wouldn't do to agitate her.

As he slowly grew used to his frail limps, there was one small detail about his body that he noticed.

He was a girl.

'Fuck.'

Elma. That had been the name originally given to her by the woman. It had been about a month after her birth while wandering aimlessly through the streets near 'La Sirena di Venere', that the woman had come to her sense enough to finally name her.

Back then, the woman had been known as Ninetta Golino, one of the many prostitutes of 'La Sirena di Venere', a popular brother that was mocking known as a 'service motel' by the nearby residents. Her regulars had been men of little wealth, but they had come regularly enough that she could afford to keep a few coins worth of pocket change in her purse for emergencies.

That small portion of pocket change had slowly started to dwindle upon Elma's birth. This was mostly due to the fact that because the woman hadn't had a stable network within the brothel, she'd resorted to leaving Elma with Madam Fina, the whorehouse's owner, on nights she'd had customers.

Madam Fina's babysitting rates, even to a person who was used the former Mist Arcobaleno's materialistic tendencies, had been on the verge of extortion. She didn't even try to hide the fact that she deducted almost half of the woman's monthly pay for her troubles.

When the cost finally became too much, the woman packed up her few belongings and left the safe walls of La Sirena di Venere. A fool she was. With how little she knew of the world outside, it only took a week for the woman's resources to run dry.

It would have been easy for her to have gone back to the brothel. Madam Fina had actually been expecting her to do so. But she didn't. The woman stubbornly refused to go back and endured.

Fortunately, she'd had Elma with her when she had left. People took pity on the small child in her arms and would place their spare change into the woman's hands as they passed. However, those small gestures of kindness hadn't lasted long and all but faded when Elma entered her toddling years.

By some miracle, they both managed to survive for quite some time. To someone who had become accustomed to silk sheets and glittering accessories, the streets should have been nothing less than hell. But surprisingly the woman had adapted well as did Elma who'd grown to know nothing more.

H- She slowly got used to the name Ninetta called her by.

It was still strange, but it didn't bother her as much as it should have.

Xanxus didn't remember much of his time before Vongola. Elma recalled even less. It didn't help that after her first realisation, she couldn't seem to reach into her flames.

Without them, she felt at a loss. More so when the body she now resided in held little to no muscle weight from the lack of nutrition.

Ninetta took customers when she could, but with her age slowly showing in the wrinkles that lined her face, they were becoming fewer and fewer. Because of this food was a necessity that they often had to forgo.

In a desperate attempt, Elma had once tried to go foraging around trash cans but had been smack by the older Italian for it. Ninetta was strangely protective of her sometimes and then completely indifferent to her the next.

Elma could only patiently wait for her short moments of indifference to resurge before she went hunting for scraps. The markets were a place abundant with food but scarce in leftovers. There wasn't much she could scavenge but it was enough to prevent death by starvation.

Once she gained a bit of much-needed height, she tried her hand in pickpocketing as well. She had to keep switching streets to avoid any police patrols but it was worth the hassle. While her fingers weren't as agile as they had been in her prime, she was fast enough and knew her surrounding well enough to outrun any angry pedestrians.

She mostly took wallets or purses but there were also a few nick-knacks she'd acquire as well. She threw away anything too unique but kept anything plain looking enough for Ninetta to sell.

There were also things she kept for herself. Such as the heavy steel lock she'd once swiped from a discarded jacket pocket. It was fairly dented in places but Elma still liked to fiddle with it when she couldn't escape Ninetta's grasp.

Lockpicking wasn't a skill she'd been proficient in as Xanxus. She'd left that to her lackeys or melted them down with her flames. It was… fun? In a way.

Through spring to autumn, Elma would be able to contribute to their funds like this. It was only in winter when the cold weather forced Elma to keep to her mother's side, that her small contributions stopped.

Without her flames, Elma's small body was weak to the cold. Pickpocketing was almost impossible as the freezing temperatures caused many to keep their hands firmly in their pockets. By then, the dwindling number of Ninetta's customers would decrease as well, leaving them with barely anything once their winter funds ran dry.

With no money for matches or even food, she and Ninetta spent hours huddled up to conserve what little body heat they had.

During those harsh winters, Elma wanted nothing more than a steady source of heat. Something to make the shivering go away…

She tried to reach out for her flames, desperate for even the slightest bit of warmth. But not once did her efforts bear any fruit.

For years, she and Ninetta had to endure the freezing cold, coming close to death at times when the snow would pile up for days. It was during a particularly snowy winter, on a day Elma could barely feel her fingertips, when finally…

Finally, a spark of orange appeared from her hands. The warmth of the flame slowly spread across her palms and over the tips of her fingers until finally consuming the whole of her hands.

In her excitement, Elma showed it to Ninetta in hopes of warming her. The older Italian smiled so happily once she saw her flames. She told her all sorts of lies. Lies Elma knew were false hopes and delusions.

It was something she knew all too well, but still, she didn't say anything. Because a side of her knew she needed them. Wanted them. Even missed them.

They were not only her chance of survival but also her chance of redemption. She didn't need the damn title of Don Vongola. All she wanted was a chance. A chance to know just what famiglia was.

It is much earlier than it had been last time. But what happens next is pretty much the same as before.

Her name is suddenly altered from Elma to Xara. A small factor that she forgot relatively quickly as Ninetta showered her with the affection she never knew. As detached to her mother as she was, she still treasured every moment of her dear mamma's affections. The hugs, kisses, and warmth she gave so freely now.

A few days later, a man with greying hair came looking for her. His face was so familiar but also strange in a way. Nono had died long before Xanxus had. Seeing him again, alive and healthy made a mix of emotions swirl uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach.

Unlike before, when all she had known him as was her potential father, it hurt when she saw the look of surprise he gave at her show of flames.

"I gave her the name Xara because she is the princess who will become the tenth Vongola Boss. "

Once the flames were gone the cold seeped back in. He noticed her shivers and, just like before, wrapped his scarf around her neck with a kind smile. The scarf he gave her was warm as was the hand that lead her away from her mamma.

'No.'

Ninetta would not die this time. She would not die.

"What about mamma?" She asked a little hastily as she tugged on his sleeves to try and get him to turn around.

He doesn't and only says that 'mamma' couldn't come with them.

Elma turned around to try and call out to her mamma but the woman only waved at her with a smile. One that embedded itself in her memories forever.