Tsuna's eyes fluttered open.
Light assaulted him. It was harsh, bright, and came pouring in through the cracks in the shutters. Toes curling, he burrowed deeper in his cocoon of thick blankets. The world was warm and fuzzy. He didn't want to wake up.
Sounds of traffic drifted in. Distant. Muffled. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked. Its owner snapped a sharp order. The door of a car slammed shut. Birds chirped in the trees across the street.
Tsuna nuzzled his pillow. What time was it anyway? It couldn't have been late. No sign of activity came from the apartment upstairs. His neighbors were still asleep, which meant he didn't have to get ready for work yet.
Determined to doze for as long as possible, Tsuna groggily rolled over – or rather, he tried to. The sheet wrapped around his mid-section abruptly grew taut. It bunched, tightening so much that he couldn't quite –
Wait.
A piece of memory clicked into place.
Tsuna's mind sharpened unpleasantly.
A quick peek under the blankets confirmed his suspicions. The thing squeezing his middle was not, in fact, a sheet. It was an arm, one that was attached to the person currently hogging half of the mattress.
Right.
This was happening. Again.
Tsuna tried to worm away.
Reborn curled closer around him. One of his hands moved, drifting over Tsuna's chest until it stopped a little off center, right there over his heartbeats. The sparks which had recently broken free from the ice flowed in that direction, as if pulled in by a magnetic force. Reborn sent out a pulse of Sun Flames in response, sleepy and sluggish and don't-move. The flickers of orange wriggled in delight. Tsuna stopped struggling, overhelmed by a sense of surreality.
Reborn, hitman extraordinaire and sarcastic smartass all around, was a snuggler.
The irony of the moment was sharp enough to draw blood.
Tsuna looked at the wall. Hot puffs of air tickled his skin each time Reborn exhaled. Their legs were tangled together.
Oh, well.
Dragging the blanket back up under his chin, Tsuna wondered if he should try to fight the situation a little harder. A criminal had made a habit of slipping into his bed in the middle of the night. Surely that warranted more than an eyeroll and a vague sense of exasperation? Tsuna yawned and mentally dropped the matter. He would deal with Reborn later. The apartment was saturated with Sun Flames. He felt lazy and safe and deliciously warm. There were worse ways to wake up in the morning.
He relaxed. His breathing deepened, growing regular and heavy and –
Something slammed into him.
It yanked and he fell.
There was a brief moment of disorientation, gravity flipping over without warning – and then Tsuna landed on his back. Hard. He blinked at the ceiling in disbelief.
"This is disappointing." A perfectly dressed Reborn entered his field of vision. "I thought I'd drilled better situational awareness into you."
Tsuna gawked.
"Did you just kick me out of bed?"
"You wouldn't wake up. I had to get creative."
Something was wrong with that man. Really, really wrong.
Tsuna sputtered. "You could have called my name!"
"Don't be boring." Reborn nudged him with the tip of a shoe, like someone prodding roadkill to check how long it'd been dead.
Tsuna slapped the offending foot away with a squawk. "Stop it."
The corners of Reborn's mouth twitched. "Get off the floor. You're going for a run."
It felt like all the air was being sucked out of the universe.
A run?
Tsuna crawled away until his back hit the bed's frame.
Nope, nope, nope.
"I." He cleared his throat. "I'm not going."
Reborn stared.
"I mean." Tsuna squeaked. "Let's, hm, let's talk about this?"
Reborn watched him squirm for another second.
Then he nodded.
"Alright."
Alarm bells immediately started to ring at the back of Tsuna's mind. Before he could react, Reborn moved, a dark blur almost too fast for the eye to see. Something small and pointy hit Tsuna a split second later. It stung.
"Ow!"
"You have my attention." Reborn smiled like a shark, gun held steadily in front of him. "Let's talk."
For a brief, mind-numbing moment, Tsuna thought that he'd actually been shot. It took longer than usual to notice the spot of neon-orange that had rolled under the nightstand. He picked it up. It looked suspiciously like a rubber bullet. The projectile was squishy and soft, not hard and bloodstained.
"Did you just shoot me," he said, incredulous, "with a toy gun?"
"We're supposed to be talking." Reborn took the safety off. "Go on. I'm listening."
Everything kind of went downhill after that.
Reborn's special brand of listening was painful and scary as hell. Tsuna had to beat a hasty and bitter retreat before he lost an eye to one of the rubber menaces. Wearing three sweaters and a scarf, he soon found himself in the public park behind his place. As usual, the trail running next to the soccer practice field was empty. A slight fog curled around the trees. Every blade of grass was heavy with dew. The storm from the previous week had long since blown over but temperatures had yet to climb back up.
The weather, however, was the least of Tsuna's concerns.
"Ten," he gasped, arms burning and shaking. "Eleven… twelve… thirteen…"
This was hell. This was literally hell, and no one was allowed to escape. How long until Tsuna could stop? Until he could rest? It had to be soon. It had.
A pebble whistled through the air and smacked against his forehead.
"Keep counting," Reborn's voice came from the side.
The hitman was sitting on a stone bench built at the edge of the park's fitness area. He was playing on his smartphone, the cheerful soundtrack of some stupid application echoing loudly. The bubbling melody seeming to mock Tsuna's suffering with joyful enthusiasm, and he'd been trying very hard not to fantasize about shoving the damn phone down Reborn's throat for the past ten minutes.
So far, he wasn't having much success.
Tsuna clenched his teeth.
It was just so unfair.
He was dripping sweat all over the place, his clothes were smudged with mud, and his shoes were full of rocks – but Reborn? The bastard didn't even have the decency of looking winded. There wasn't a single hair out of place on his head even though he'd followed Tsuna into the woods for the earlier bit of jogging. His suit was immaculate, no stain or wrinkle on the expensive material. He smelled clean, dammit.
That shouldn't have been possible. Or human.
Demon, Tsuna thought darkly.
With impeccable timing, another pebble bit into his shoulder.
Mind-reading demon.
Tsuna started to count again.
"Sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…"
He kept going, pushing through the exhaustion to the beat of the game's music. The series of cutesy ping-ping were eerily similar to the sounds of gunshots. It figured that Reborn would be killing things even while playing.
"…twenty… one… t-twenty… two –"
Tsuna face-planted into the sand.
That was it. He was done. No amount of rubber bullets in the world could make him move again. Panting, he lay there, a carp stuck on dry land, twitching and wincing with pain.
Reborn pocketed his phone and sauntered over. "Twenty-two push-ups. It's nothing to brag about but we're finally getting somewhere." He squatted down and looked down at Tsuna. An unholy glint appeared in his pitch-black eyes. "Still alive?"
"I hate you," Tsuna moaned. "I hate you so much and oh my God, I can't feel my legs."
Something small struck his left calf.
He yelped.
Reborn re-holstered the toy gun with a smirk. "Sounds like you feel them alright."
Tsuna dragged his head around and did his best to set Reborn on fire with his eyes. It had the effect of a dry pea bouncing off a wall. Ignoring his resentful glare, Reborn grabbed Tsuna by the back of his sweater and hauled him up. This must have been what a misbehaving puppy felt like while being carried around by the scruff of its neck. Tsuna bore the embarrassment with quiet dignity. He wasn't sure he could walk alone anyway.
Reborn dropped him on the bench.
Tsuna lunged for the bottle in his backpack. The water inside was cool and tasted wonderful. He gulped it down in huge mouthfuls.
"Slow down," Reborn warned. "You'll throw up again."
In which case Tsuna would aim for those nicely polished shoes.
They sat without speaking for a while. Tsuna gradually stopped sounding like he was one gasp away from keeling over. That in itself was surprising. He recovered much faster these days.
"Hey, Reborn," he said. "I can do twenty-two push-ups now. That's progress, right?"
"I suppose."
"Doesn't that mean we're done?"
Reborn turned to look at him. "Done?" he repeated.
Tsuna nodded quickly. This whole affair had always been about getting him back into shape, and now the objectives had been met. He'd looked it up online. A man his age could do twenty push-ups on average. Tsuna had achieved that a while back. His physical condition was way better than it had been before they'd started – better, in fact, than it had been in years.
Reborn arched an eyebrow.
"Baka-Tsuna," he said, sarcasm so thick it basically dripped from each syllable. "All I would have to do right now to knock you off your feet is to blow some air in your direction and watch you land on your head and get killed by the floor. We're so far from done it shouldn't even exist in your vocabulary yet."
Tsuna sat rooted on the spot, speechless.
"Do you understand?" Reborn reached out and poked Tsuna's forehead with two sharp fingers. "This is me saying I'm not going anywhere."
Sun Flames trickled down from the point of impact, seeping into tired muscles and loosening the aching knots from an hour of torture.
"You just want to annoy me to death," Tsuna grumbled. "For fun."
Reborn snorted. "You make it too easy." He stood up. "Squats. Three sets of fifteen. Get started now."
Sun Flames and their regenerative properties or not, this was going to suck.
Tsuna braced himself.
Maybe Cinzia was onto something with the whole arsenic thing, he pondered, robotically getting into position. Arms held in front of him, toes facing forward and back held straight, he slowly lowered his body. The muscles in his thighs howled in agony. He started to count.
Yes, arsenic was starting to sound more and more appealing.
He should put some thought into it.
Just, you know, to keep his options open.
.
.
Cutlery hitting porcelain was the only sound resounding in the dining room as food disappeared from plates at a steady pace. The atmosphere was heavy, almost suffocating. They were balancing on the edge of a knife. Sooner or later, someone was going to slip and end up cut into bloody ribbons.
"So," Reborn suddenly said.
Tsuna flinched. The rice in his mouth went down the wrong way. He choked and dove for the pitcher.
This had been a horrible mistake.
Reborn smoothly ignored the coughing moron by his side. "Where is Cinzia?"
Ottone's answering glare was hot enough to liquefy iron. "Out."
"Out where?"
"Outside."
Reborn smiled. A muscled jerked in Ottone's jaw.
More silence.
Tsuna watched the scene with wide eyes as he guzzled water. Given Cinzia's propensity to come charging at Reborn with insults and the occasional knife, the hitman's interest in her location was more than expected. Ottone was just dead set on being as uncooperative as possible.
Tsuna put his glass down.
"So, hm, yeah," he babbled, mind flailing for a distraction. He turned toward Reborn. "Do you. Huh. Do you know how to get bloodstains off wallpapers?"
No, wait.
That wasn't what he'd meant to say.
Reborn paused mid-move.
"What," Ottone grunted, and it sounded like, the fuck, you idiot brat.
What, Tsuna's thoughts blankly echoed.
"Yes, Baka-Tsuna," Reborn said after a second, voice as dry as sandpaper. "As a matter of fact, I do know how to remove bloodstains from pretty much anything."
Of course, he did.
Tsuna blushed so hard it felt like third degree burns spreading all over his face.
"S-sorry, the conversation was – and you were – you know what? Never mind."
Where was a stray meteorite when you needed one? The end of civilisation didn't sound so bad all things considered.
Tsuna let out a deep breath.
He'd known the whole affair was going to be an unmitigated disaster as soon as Cinzia had cornered him after work two days earlier to issue a command of, "Bring the asshole over for dinner."
Tsuna still wasn't sure what had horrified him more – her bloodthirsty smile or the thundercloud gathering on Ottone's brows as he stood behind her.
"No," he'd said, appalled. "Absolutely not."
"Yes," she'd shot back. "Apparently, he's here to stay. That means we need to get to know him. Bring. Him. Home."
That had left him with no wiggle room. He'd gone for damage control instead. Since Ottone and Cinzia held the home field advantage, he'd decided to drop by unannounced. There was no sense in giving them an opportunity to booby-trap the encounter into a metaphorical slaughter. Naturally, though, Cinzia was not there the day he'd chosen. Which meant they would have to come back and do it again.
God.
Ottone pushed his plate back. "You done yet? Then get out."
Tsuna sighed. If his adoptive father thought it was that easy to get rid of Reborn, then he was tragically mistaken.
Reborn toyed with a knife. "No dessert?"
Tsuna should just leave them to it. What was it called again? Right. Plausible deniability. Hiding in the bathroom was starting to sound more and more appealing.
An apple tore through the air like a missile.
Reborn snatched it without batting an eyelid. He bit into the fruit. Ottone launched another apple, clearly aiming for Reborn's forehead. The hitman dodged and it crashed into the wall behind them.
One way or another, they were going to end up in handcuffs before dinner was over. Cinzia would have to bail them out, and she would do it cheerfully just so she could murder them herself with a tea spoon.
Reborn finished his apple and dropped the core on his plate. "Coffee?" he asked, and there was no mistaking the gleeful note in his voice.
Screw it.
Tsuna stood up and headed for the bathroom.
.
.
"This is revolting."
"Disgusting."
"Get this away from me."
Tsuna scrunched up his nose. He was having a very strong case of deja-vu.
"I told you to make it exactly like you did last time's espresso," Reborn said, one very offended fingertip pushing the mug away.
"Is this about this morning?" Tsuna asked. "Because I didn't run fast enough?"
"No," Reborn answered bluntly. "We'll deal with that later. This is an entirely different matter." He tapped the side of the mug. "Start over."
Tsuna frowned.
Reborn was a bastard, there had never been any doubt about it, but this new level of pettiness was unreasonable even by his standards. Tsuna had never seen a person looking as disgruntled as Reborn had when he'd been told there wasn't a coffee pot in the kitchen.
Something strange was going on. The big picture wasn't remotely close to revealing itself.
Aware that black eyes were drilling into his back, Tsuna went back to the sink. Soon, he had water boiling over the hotplate and a clean mug on standby. He poured the hot water inside, tossed a bag of green tea along with it, and figured that was good enough.
"Here," he said, sliding the mug on the table.
Reborn didn't spare it a glance.
"Do it again."
Happy thoughts, Tsuna told himself firmly. Think happy thoughts.
He stomped back to the kitchen and proceeded to boil enough water to fill a bathtub.
"Wrong."
"Are you even trying?"
"Sewer waste would be better than this."
By his fifth failure, Tsuna was ready to throw someone out the window – Reborn, preferably, but he would have settled for a heavy and breakable object. He'd tried adding honey to the tea, and when that didn't work, he'd switched to milk and even sugar. Reborn sneered at him each time.
"But why?" Tsuna finally burst out. "You want tea. I'm making tea! So what is –"
"You're not listening," Reborn cut him off, voice sharp with impatience. "I told you to make it exactly like last time."
It was bizarre sometimes, talking to Reborn, as if their views of the world were so radically different they couldn't quite align into something coherent. Like last time, he kept on saying, as if it were easy or even feasible. How exactly was Tsuna supposed to reproduce the cup of coffee he'd made using a highly efficient machine in a bakery that used roasted beans?
Especially since he was trying to make tea.
Tsuna held back a wince.
He didn't like thinking about that night, about how clumsy he'd been when he'd revealed his Flames and –
Wait.
His Flames.
"Are you finally starting to get it?" Reborn said quietly.
All of a sudden, the apartment felt too small. Its walls started to close in, looming and stifling. It was hard to breathe.
"Baka-Tsuna?"
Tsuna twitched.
Reborn was staring at him, eyes sharp and unblinking, focused with burning intensity on Tsuna's body language. He'd been doing that since they'd come back from Little Trinci, Tsuna realized. Something was pulled in close around the hitman – something that felt alert and watchful. Despite his irritation, there was a hint of wariness in Reborn, as if he needed to thread carefully.
It made no sense.
People called him the best hitman in the world for a reason. The mere idea that Tsuna could make Reborn nervous was so far beyond ridiculous it landed right smack into crazy. There was nothing to fear from Tsuna. Not from a damaged, ugly, empty Sky that couldn't even keep warm in the middle of July.
Dammit.
Tsuna snatched the mug from the table and retreated to the kitchen. He braced himself against the countertop. His stomach roiled.
Reborn had never mentioned Tsuna's Flames before. Not that time back in Little Trinci when Tsuna had slipped an orange spark in a cup of coffee or more recently when he'd come back wounded. Somewhere along the line, it had become an open secret. The agreement between them was implicit, never voiced out loud. They'd been tiptoeing around the truth for weeks and Tsuna had come to rely on that. Reborn breaking the status quo was a little like having the proverbial rug pulled from under his feet.
Alright.
Fine.
Tsuna's hands clenched into fists.
This – this was not unexpected. After all, he'd practically screamed his secret at Reborn, hadn't he? He had seen this conversation coming ages ago, had known there would be no avoiding it. But. What about Ottone? What about Cinzia? It hadn't quite sunk in until now that they could get hurt, that they could –
Sun Flames brushed against the back of Tsuna's neck.
The touch was flitting, feather like, similar to fingers tentatively skimming over his skin.
Tsuna froze.
The Flames waited a beat, then slowly started to move down his back. They were careful, cautious, and surprise broke through Tsuna's panic. He knew Reborn's Flames, had felt them bristling with fangs and killing intent, remembered the way they'd clashed with Timoteo's ice so hard it had almost shattered him. They were a mirror of Reborn himself. Unyielding and harsh and unapologizing – and nothing like the soft touch currently whispering over Tsuna's clothes.
He sneaked a look over his shoulder.
Reborn had leaned back into his chair, face tilted toward the ceiling, eyes closed. It was as if he were trying to project a harmless, uninterested front. The posture worked as well as a dragon attempting to impersonate a kitten, but Tsuna still felt the knot of acrid fear in his belly loosen a bit.
The Sun Flames seemed to sense the change in him. They wound up into his hair, coaxing and soothing. Tsuna was pretty sure this was Reborn's way of saying please. I'm not dangerous, was the Flames' promise. I don't want to hurt you and look at how well I'm behaving – so please.
It probably said a lot about Tsuna that suddenly he wanted to laugh. The stiff line of his shoulders relaxed and all that was left behind was a startling amount of fondness.
How had he done it? Tsuna wondered, a little wistful.
Reborn had barged into his life with threats and violence, the very embodiment of everything Tsuna found repulsive about the mafia. And yet, one snarky comment at a time, inch by inch, slowly and unnoticed until it was far too late to stop it, he had managed to needle his way into becoming someone important. It had to make Tsuna crazy, and delusional, and more than a little desperate, but if Reborn suddenly decided to leave Tsuna would miss him. A lot. Far more than he was willing to admit.
He cared – he'd known he cared – but this right there? It was something bigger. Meaningful in a way that hadn't existed even a few days before.
The Sun Flames in the air withdrew with one last caress. Tsuna looked down at the mug he'd prepared. Then he pictured the fluttering sparks of weak Sky Flames in his soul and shoved one into his hands.
The tea bubbled slightly, steam drifting from its surface.
Feeling somewhat numb, Tsuna stumbled back toward Reborn. He put the mug down without a word and collapsed on a chair.
Reborn opened an eye.
"Took you long enough."
Tsuna let his forehead hit the table. There was no strength left in his limbs. He peeked up.
Reborn was finally drinking the damn tea. Tsuna wondered if the hitman knew how much he looked like a cat that had just caught a juicy canary. He was holding the mug tightly, almost possessively, and if Tsuna squinted just right he could sort of make out a swirly, glowing pattern that shifted and twisted behind him. Sun Flames, ones that were just oozing satisfaction all over the place.
Reborn's hand disappeared in the pocket of his expensive jacket. It came out with a small paper bag that he dropped on the table.
Now, this was familiar grounds.
Tsuna opened the offering. There were five tiny macarons inside. Strawberry and chocolate. His favorites.
"Is this supposed to be a bribe?" he asked. "To forgive you for being a moody jerk?"
"Consider it a gift," Reborn said, voice so devoid of smugness if looped right back into arrogance.
Tsuna bit into a macaron and groused, "It feels like I'm selling my soul to the devil."
"Good. You're getting smarter."
Paranoid asshole.
Tsuna finished two more macarons and set the last ones aside for later. In front of him, Reborn drank more tea. Steam wafted from the top of his mug, most likely containing a hint of Sky Flames. Tsuna shivered, pinpricks of cold stabbing at his extremities. Feeling grumpy, he pulled his sweater closer around his shoulders, thinking he should have kept that spark for himself. Clearly, he needed it more than Reborn.
Tsuna blinked.
An idea slowly came into existence. If Reborn was allowed to be demanding, then so could he.
Right?
Right.
"I'm cold," Tsuna blurted, the declaration both a challenge and a request.
It's your fault, he couldn't bring himself to say. Kind of. So do something about it.
Dark eyes snapped up. Reborn turned into a stone statue.
For a long while, neither of them said anything. Tsuna held his breath. More seconds ticked by, bleeding into a minute and then another one. Reborn still wasn't saying anything.
Oh, God.
Tsuna's cheeks heated up. He was stupid. So very, very stupid. What had he expected? Behaving like a whiny, spoiled little brat wasn't going to –
Sun Flames latched onto him. Their warmth sank covered his clothes until he was wrapped in a balmy bubble that spread out like a blanket over the rest of the room. The temperatures in the apartment started to climb. It was like having a miniature, invisible sun hanging somewhere near the ceiling.
Tsuna gaped.
Reborn returned the look with a sardonic expression. "You're going to be a pushy Sky, aren't you?"
"I'm." Tsuna unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "What."
He hadn't truly thought Reborn would bother to help.
But he had.
He did.
And that changed everything.
("This is me saying I'm not going anywhere.")
.
.
Later that evening, Reborn's phone started ringing. He picked up the call, listened for a few seconds, then hung up.
He left immediately afterward.
.
.
Tsuna was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Shadows danced over the walls each time a car's headlights slid through the cracks in the shutters. The red digits glowing on his nightstand read eleven thirty. It had been one hour and twenty-four minutes since Reborn had walked out the front door.
That was fine. Everything was fine. Tsuna's pulse echoed in his ears, calm and steady, a quiet thump-thump that marked the passage of time. He wasn't worried. Sleep was only a matter of time.
Eleven thirty-one.
Tsuna rolled over onto his side. Deep inside, sparks of orange fire buzzed frantically, urging him to get up and go. Go, now. He ignored them.
Eleven thirty-two.
For some reason, he couldn't quite fall asleep yet. He remembered waking up with a warm body plastered against his back in a room full of Sun Flames. He remembered bandages stained crimson under a black dress shirt. He remembered waiting for days and days without getting any news.
Eleven thirty-three.
The last train left the station a little after midnight. He could still make it, but only if he hurried.
It was insane. Tsuna was insane.
Eleven thirty-four.
Another ripple of urgency coursed along his nerves. Something was wrong and it had to do with that phone call. Tsuna jumped out of bed, barely took the time to put on a pair of shoes, and ran out into the night.
.
.
Outsider POV
"Where did you get him from anyway?"
"A very pretty backyard. Nice trees and flowers. I should have taken a picture."
Berenice rubbed a hand over her eyes. Obviously, she was reaching the end of her patience. "Orders are clear," she said. "We don't take children at random. Sooner or later another Famiglia will notice and that's exactly the sort of shit storm we want to avoid."
Mi Li peeked at the unconscious child Jenoah was carrying. He was young, ten years old at most, and noticeably Asian.
Jenoah strode across the room and put the boy down on a sofa. He carefully slid a pillow under the small head of black hair.
Berenice scowled. "Are you listening? You can't keep him here."
Around them, a dozen of mafiosos were observing the scene with varying degrees of displeasure. This was their lounge room, the only place where they could come to relax between two shifts. The Famiglia's upper members usually didn't come to harass them about the goddamn job when they were there. No one wanted that peace to get ruined by some bastard with a few screws loose. A woman near the back of the room muttered under her breath. She cranked up the volume of the tv and more than one person turned their attention back on the ongoing soccer game.
Mi Li kept her eyes on Jenoah.
She had never liked him. There was just something too goddamn chirpy about the guy, as if he weren't like the rest of them, wading days and nights in the cesspool of horror the Famiglia produced every fucking second. That blasted sunshine attitude was just creepy.
Jenoah covered the boy with a blanket. Standing a step behind him, Berenice looked ready to strangle the man with her bare hands. Unaware of the danger, Jenoah leaned over the kid and gently patted a chubby cheek.
"Sleep well and quickly recover," he said cheerfully. "Papa Lee won't be happy if you get sick."
Papa Lee.
Something unpleasant poked at Mi Li's brain.
Lee. Aaron fucking Lee. Who was supposed to be visiting the Vongola to talk about Nono's retirement.
Right there.
In Italy.
Mi Li blinked.
Hah.
No way.
There must have been tons of families originating from Asia crawling all over the country. Statistically speaking, a lot of them had to carry the surname Lee. The fact that a Chinese delegation had recently come to Europe meant nothing.
Mi Li licked her lips.
It meant nothing, really, but –
"Hey, Jenaoah," she called, if only to prove that she was being dumb. "This looks like a little prince from some rich family. Did you grabb that Triads brat or something?"
Berenice throw Mi Li a flat look. "You're being weird again, Emily."
Laughter spread out over the room. Mi Li pulled her lips into a bland smile. She couldn't quite summon the bite to reel against the use of that hateful, hateful English name that wasn't hers.
Because Jenoah wasn't laughing.
Why the hell wasn't he laughing?
Berenice pointed at the man. "This is getting stupid and I'm too tired for your crap. Get your ass moving, we're going to –"
"How did you know?" Jenoah asked, watching Mi Li curiously.
No. Fucking. Way.
"I –" she started, only to be cut off as an explosion rocked the building.
Dust fell from the ceiling and the lights flickered.
Mi Li felt the blood draining from her face.
"Oh?" Jenoah looked up. "They're here already?"
"They?" Berenice repeated, eyes wide.
"The Vongola, of course."
Out in the hallway, an alarm had started to screech. People were yelling. Berenice let out a curse and rushed out of the room, followed by the rest of the group.
Mi Li didn't move. If that brat truly was Lee's kid, they were screwed. She had grown up in the Chinese underground. She knew how fearsome the Dragon Clan was. If you added the Vongola to the equation, then they were all already as good as dead.
"Why?" she ground out.
The man that looked back at her in that moment was a complete stranger. Gone was the idiot with the slightly unhinged smile. Jenoah stared at Mi Li and a hint of orange Flames started to glow in his eyes. For a split second, his appearance wavered, flickering like a screen of smoke about to be torn away. She blinked.
Jenoah put a hand on the boy's head.
"Because sometimes you need a big bait to catch a big fish."
.
.
And the mystery about Jenoah thickens.
Also:
Good news number 1 – with this we're wrapping up what I've been calling in my head the "Reborn Daily Life Arc." I'm very impatient to write the next part. It's time to meet other canon characters. And some familiar OC too.
Good news number 2 – what we've all been waiting for will happen very soon. Almost there, guys.