Summary: He's the last person they'd expect to have secrets and when Bel finds an injured man in the gardens of Varia mansion, they discover that he has more than they'd ever believed. Aka. The one where Kisame is reincarnated as Squalo Superbi. KisaIta;
Chapter One
He was the last person they would expect to have secrets.
Logically, they knew that he had to have some, but everything about him seemed to contradict that fact.
He was loud, annoyingly so, almost constantly in motion or speaking, irritation always plain on his face. Words spilled from his lips in never ending torrents whether he was awake or not and everyone knew his goals and ambitions, as he certainly never hid them.
Their Sword Emperor was not a coy man when it came to information about himself, not by any means, and Xanxus had often felt it would be the man's undoing. When he'd told them man such, his friend had laughed, a smirk on his lips.
"I doubt it." The confidence of the words had almost waylaid the (well hidden) worry he felt at the idiot's oversharing.
However, now, looking back on it, the Varia's commander wandered how he hadn't noticed that for someone that said so much, his second actually said very little.
While it was true the world knew his ambition to be the greatest swordsman in history, they didn't know why.
They didn't know why he wanted to be better than the best. Why he trained himself to exhaustion on their off days, swinging through katas until his body trembled from exertion.
They knew he loved pocky in a way that bordered upon obsession, and that he had a fondness for blackbirds, crows in particular.
They knew he was the only member of the Varia that could come close to beating Mammon in battle when the miser used their illusions, fighting as if it were as easy as breathing.
They knew that he was terrified of any of them being sick, having flown into pure mother hen mode the first time Belphegor caught a cold. His eyes had widened in horror when the child had flown into a coughing fit that had left him panting for breath, full of old fears and remembered pain.
He'd watch the clouds at times when he believed he was alone, a small wistful smile on his face that would vanish the second he felt anyone watching.
For years, they'd all noticed these things, and other small quirks of the swordsman, but they'd never known why.
Yet, somehow deep in his bones, Xanxus could feel something building. Something, he knew would explain everything…and he wasn't sure if he would like it or not.
*/*
It was raining.
It was always raining.
Hollow amber eyes began to water as they gazed down at the battered body before them, taking way the rain seemed to be trying to wash away the blood staining its ivory skin.
Onyx eyes glazed over in dead stared up at him, their owner's lips curled into a peaceful smile and in that moment, he knew hatred.
He hated Konoha, and everything it had put this beautiful man through in his short life.
Hated the Uchiha clan for forcing their burdens onto the shoulders of a child just because of his genius.
Hated Sasuke for being to fucking stupid to see beyond the lies being fed to him from all sides.
Hated the Akatsuki and Pein for dragging a pacifist into their ranks never seeing how every death weighed down a soul that wasn't built for killing for all that it was good at it.
Hated himself for going along with his beloved's wishes.
But most of all, he hated the man on the ground.
Hated how self sacrificing he was, as if he were simply a weapon to be discarded once it had lost its use.
How his lips would curl into that warm, sweet smile when they were alone and Kisame managed to say something that amused him.
How his eyes would light up whenever he saw a stick of pocky, and the adorable pout he'd get when it was all gone.
How he would sing, soft and low, on the quiet nights away from base, his crows in the trees cawing along.
How he loved with his whole heart, even when the person he shared that love with didn't deserve it.
How he gave everything for a brother that hated him and allowed himself to become the monster the boy chased to protect him from the true monsters lurking in the shadows.
He hated how, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hate the man who'd shown him the love he'd craved. Who had given his body and soul to him, looking past his monstrous appearance to an equally monstrous personality.
He hated how much he loved him.
"Why did you do this to me, 'Tachi?" He rasped, the rain hiding his tears, as he caressed the cold flesh of his lover's prone form.
"Why did you show me this?"
Why?
Why?
Why show him how beautiful love was, only to take it away?
Why teach him how to open his heart?
WHY?
Snarling angrily to cover up the sob that wanted to escape him, he leaned closer, lips almost brushing the younger man's chilled ones.
"I hate you, Itachi. I hate you."
His voice broke and he kissed him chastely, hating the cold of the body beneath him.
Straightening, he cast his strongest fire jutsu, just to spite the youngest Uchiha and Tobi, who he knew were expecting to get Itachi's eyes. As the corpse burned he rebuilt his façade, once more becoming the lackadaisical shark of the Akatsuki.
He would fight in the war on the horizon, and when it was done, he would join his lover in the great beyond. Hopefully.
Smiling slightly, he allowed his gaze to trace his husband's peaceful features as the flames swallowed them. Allowed peace to engulf the grief trying to overtake him.
"I love you, babe. I'll see you soon."
*/*
He woke with tears cooling on his cheeks and a broken smile on his lips.
Twenty-six years had passed since that day, twenty-five since he'd killed himself and been reborn in a whole new world and yet it still hurt just as much as it had then.
He'd killed himself to escape Konoha's interrogations, hoping he would awaken in the afterlife to find Itachi waiting for him on the other side.
He hadn't.
Instead he'd awakened as a newborn babe in the arms of his mother in this life, Jocelyn Superbi, a hitwoman for Massimo Vongola, and a mafia doctor second only to Shamal, name Elias.
He'd hated it, even with the love his parents doted upon him, and had been diagnosed with depression at an early age, something he hid even now. As he grew, he got better, taking up the sword when he saw that his father was a swordsman, an ode to his former life.
Yet, he'd never forgotten Itachi.
Nor had he ever given anyone else his heart.
His parents had found it odd, but had assumed he was aromantic, and accepted it. The Varia hadn't cared, most of them being aromantic themselves, and he'd never had the heart to say different.
His past life in the shinobi world had helped him get into shape in this life, even as it stopped featuring daily in dreams and nightmare to every other week, then every few months.
He learned and adapted, manifesting his chakra just as early as he had in his former life and his flames soon after.
When he was sent to mafia school by his parents at eleven, he'd been amused (and disgusted) by the fact that these children started training so late, when in Kiri he'd be gearing up for the graduation exam by now.
Then he'd met Xanxus.
Xanxus whose crimson eyes and dark hair had reminded him of his lost heart, whose tough exterior endeared him to him even though it reminded him of the child he hated.
Xanxus who was lost, angry, and alone, and powerful.
Xanxus, who he was almost sure Itachi would've taken under his wing.
It was an easy decision to decide to follow him for the rest of his life, after all he'd never wanted to be a leader.
When they took over the Varia, and he defeated the sword emperor, he'd had no problem surrendering the running of the organization to Xanxus. He was a soldier first and foremost, not a leader, but Xanxus was
He'd wondered if Itachi would be proud of him, of the family he'd managed to build.
He'd hoped so.
When Xanxus had been frozen in their failed coup d'état against Vongola, he remembered being terrified and angry, hoping that Xanxus would live until they could retrieve him. That he wouldn't lose him as he had his lover.
He'd been grateful when they'd managed it, even if it was a decade later.
Now, he was finally happy. Their family was firmly on the side of the Baby Boss, who kept the old guard off their backs, and his nightmares were at an all-time low.
At least they had been until earlier that week.
All week he'd found himself dreaming of the past, and after months of peace he couldn't help but wonder why.
He wasn't sure, but he knew that if the feeling building in his gut meant anything he wouldn't like it.
A flare of flames caught his attention.
Cloud, stronger than he ever felt, even from the cloud arcobaleno, danced at the edge of his own, tinged with mist flames just as strong.
Wiping the tears from his cheeks, swiftly dressed and grabbed his second sword, rushing from the room.
His boss met him in the halls, lips pursed and face dark.
"Any clue what the fuck is going on?" The younger snarled and he shook his head, even as his gut screamed that something about the flames were familiar.
Their moved toward the direction it was coming from only to be intercepted by a harried Bel.
"You have to see this, shishihi."
"What is it, shitty Prince?"
The boy smiled viciously. "Half dead intruder in the gardens. Mammy is with him now."
Xanxus' eyes widened. "Half dead and his flames are this strong?"
He nodded and turned to lead them back the way he came. Once they reached the gardens, Squalo froze, silver eyes wide as they took in the prone form before them.
Clad in a blood red robe, hair flowing freely around his battered form, was the face that had lurked behind his eyelid for the past two and a half decades.
He was bleeding, and unconscious but no less beautiful than he'd been the last time he'd seen him.
This had to be a dream.
He took a stumbling step forward, reaching out with a shaking hand as he dreaded feeling cold flesh beneath his fingertips.
A broken sob left his lips and he smiled.
He was warm.
Alive.
"'Tachi."
Ignoring the others, as well as the whirlwind of purple and indigo surrounding them, he gathered the other in his arms and barked out a laugh.
His mate was alive.
TBC…