Sunshine and Subterfuge
Arc I - Bluebirds Fly
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. (And let's be honest; nobody owns Reborn.)
01. Beginnings
The boy that would eventually be known as Renato Sinclair, the World's Greatest Hitman is born on October 13, 19XX.
Of course, that's not an entirely accurate statement. One part is an outright lie, fabricated by the person in question— and in the future, Renato Sinclair will be at least thirty percent lie at all times. The rest is due to a mistake in the paperwork. The name Renato is indeed recorded that night. The child born after a grueling thirteen hours of labor is initially assumed to be a boy. It is one Renata that is born on that cold Friday, October 13th.
And she is no Sinclair.
Renata is welcomed into life by a sleep-deprived mother and father, her delivery the glorious finale to an exhausting ordeal. It had been a risky pregnancy and difficult birth; both adults are blissfully happy that nothing is wrong with either mother or babe.
Things change little in their lives over the next few months as the new parents adjust to parenthood, and the child in question adjusts to life.
In terms of appearance, she quickly proves to favor her Italian father. By the end of her second week of life the blue eyes, common to every infant, darken into a shade of black that rivals the void between stars in their intensity. A few months, and the dark patch of hair she's born with is replaced by ink-black, wild, and incredibly curly tresses. Only her pale skin tone is inherited from the quirky half-Japanese, half-English woman that is her mother; that, and perhaps the almond shape of her dark eyes.
From the very beginning, she proves to be a quiet, unnervingly intelligent child.
"Ah, beloved, look at her! She's so precious, our little Renée-chan..." The woman coos, "And those dark curls! I swear, she looks more and more like you every day!" Glancing up, her husband smiles tightly, murmuring his agreement, but quickly turns back to the thick leather-bound book in his hands. Ayame pouts theatrically, but does not demand further attention from her husband.
Renata ignores the babble as she struggles to stand— of the large-warm others, the pale-one-that-provides-food has always been more vocal. Noisier. The dark one, with the low, soothing voice, rarely responds. The infant follows the dark one's example, preferring to focus on her environment, observing quietly, rarely babbling back to the large-warm ones. Admittedly, she pays attention to and occasionally attempts to mimic their noises, curious as to the meaning. Do they have meaning?
That is exactly why she is capable of walking and talking by age one... The talking is, admittedly, something of a surprise to her parents.
Renata toddles into the kitchen on unsteady legs, leaning on the wall when her balance is precarious, and speaks, her tone demanding, "Mamma... Ren hungry."
"Yeee! Renée-chan, you can talk?"
The toddler stares blankly at her Mamma, and repeats, slowly, this time pointing a chubby finger at her grumbling stomach. "Mamma. Ren hungry." Feed me. Now. The toddler's impatient thoughts are strongly implied.
"Ah, hungry? Such an interesting child... Well, at least your first word is still Mamma!" The woman smiles, and acquiesces to her daughter's demand. "Papa will be so disappointed he missed this! Well, that's what he gets for being so in love with his books."
And life continues on from there; Renata blowing all childhood milestones out of the water with nary a concern.
02. Partnership
By the time she is four, everything has changed.
Renata and her parents have moved from their cozy apartment in the city into a large, two-story house. There are new people— the staff responsible for the upkeep of the small estate now owned by her Mamma and Papa. They are all convinced that Renata's middle name is chaos.
Upon learning her new nickname from their cook, the cheeky girl stops using 'Ciao' as a greeting, switching entirely to 'Chaos'. It is this interesting new habit that reveals the mild lisp that contributes to her reserved nature— "Ciaossu, Mamma, Papa." After all, Renata is a perfectionist. "Ciaossu!"
With that realization comes tutoring— speech therapy. Renata bargains for proper lessons after speech therapy evolves into language lessons. There is etiquette, the various minutiae necessary for a young lady to know, and eventually even the basics of dance. Renata demolishes the basic curriculum expected of a child of nearly twice her age by six.
Renata is stubborn, demanding, frighteningly intelligent, and has a rather twisted sense of humor. On the other hand, she remains unfailingly polite, unless her temper is riled.
Inept tutoring riles her temper.
Consequently, she goes through a lot of tutors.
Her parents despair, until they learn to bribe her into compliance: her mother, with large quantities of candy—chocolate, caramel, and anything coffee flavored— and her father, with the offer of a new responsibility for his independent little scholar. A pet. Though admittedly, he takes his wife's advice into account when choosing said pet.
"A chameleon?" Renata stares at the small green lizard, trapped behind thin glass walls, with great curiosity. "It's interesting." I'll have to do some reading on habitat, diet, and things of that nature... As if offhand, she murmurs her thanks, "Thank you, Papa. In exchange, I will not glue thumbtacks to the tutor's chair again." It's a simple, silly trick anyway. I can come up with something much more devilish.
Hello, human hatchling. A distinctly masculine voice intrudes on her thoughts. She blinks, and tilts her head slightly, her expression very much akin to a curious bird watching its prey. Did it just talk? "He's very interesting... I think we'll get along well. Does he have a name?"
"Not yet; I thought it best to leave that up to you."
"Thank you, Papa." She nods decisively, and reaches into the glass tank, cupping a small, chubby hand beneath the little lizard. "Leon." The little one climbs down and settles in her palm.
Leon? You have an interesting sense of humor, but that name is as good as any other, I suppose.
She brings the little creature up to her face, her fathomless black eyes meeting Leon's wide, lizard yellow ones, and whispers with a secretive smile, "Hello, Leon. My name is Renata, only sometimes people think it is Renato. Mamma calls me Renée or Ren-chan. Let's be friends."
Friends?
"That's right." I feel as if I will come to trust you with my secrets.
Mm... Please treat me well, Ren.
And that, as they say, is that.
The problems start a few weeks later, when she admits to her father that she is so good at catering to the needs of her new pet because she can understand him. Literally.
She can practically see the wall growing between them, looking into the dark eyes that are so similar to her own. "Don't make things up, Renata. This world is one of science, not magic and superstition."
Is that how it is...?
Renata has a terrifying facility for linguistics, for languages of all kinds, written and spoken— everything from Italian to Mathematics— and apparently, human and nonhuman.
Papa... Where did this talent come from, if not from you?
Hmm, I wonder.
03. Gifted
When Renata's father succinctly informs her mother of her airheaded, make-believe games, tone dripping with disapproval, Ayame just laughs. "Ah, my sweet Renée is just like her Mamma. Do not worry, dearest, I'll take care of it."
Two pairs of suspicious black eyes study her. The owner of the older ones comments, "Is that so? I'll leave her in your hands then, dear wife," before striding from the room, door closing behind him in a final thump. He retreats back to his library, his sanctuary.
But I was telling the truth!
"Papa just told me to stop pretending. Big girls don't play make-believe." Renata scowls, hot tears spilling down her cheeks, hands clenched into little fists. Will you do the same, Mamma? It is frustration and anger not sadness that evoke her tears. "I'm not little." I'm not pretending!
Don't waste your tears on something like this, Ren. The chameleon on her shoulder replies, tail gripping the back of her neck in a possessive manner. If she does not believe you, what does it matter? I will still be here, and so will you. We both know the truth of the matter.
"Your little friend is quite right. Even if you were the only that could hear him, what would it change?"
"...M-mamma?"
"Ah, sweetling, do not worry. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you."
She leans forward, pressing a warm kiss to Renata's forehead, smoothing down the girl's curls, made all the wilder by her emotional state. The child's hair is short, recently cut due to an incident with a jar of honey. A pair of curls near her ears spring out, looking exactly like quirky sideburns. "You'll just have to forgive your Papa. He's not like you and I."
The dark-eyes child blinks, shocked by her mother's words. "You can... You can understand Leon, too?"
The older woman steps back and twirls in place, her smile wide and brilliant in its intensity, "Yes, yes~! This is fantastic! I can pass my skills on to my adorable Ren-chan! Ah, I really should have suspected it when you started learning languages so rapidly... Dearest, forgive me for the oversight."
Of course I forgive you, Mamma. She doesn't say the words out loud, but her tears taper off, replaced by a lovely smile. "Skills?" Renata loves to learn new things.
"Mmm-hm." A beatific smile from the older woman. She reaches down picking up Renata and settling the little one on her hip. Renata would usually protest, but she is far too busy listening, processing, analyzing, and extrapolating. "A secret gift. You know how to keep a secret right, Ren-chan?"
"Yes."
So her Mamma explained. Retreating to the couch that dominates the center of this particular room, she sits, shifting the child into her lap, twining fingers through the wild curls upon her head. "Then, my sweet sunlight, let me tell you a story..."
A great many years ago, when the world was still in its infancy, when spirits and demons still roamed the earth, there lived a boy named Ekai.
Ekai was orphaned when he was very young; he could barely remember his parents. His mother had passed into the land of the spirits shortly after he was born, having time enough only to name him. His father died a scarce handful of years after that, a victim of the bandits that occasionally raided the small mountain village where he lived. The little boy did not lack for family, however. The village claimed Ekai; he became everyone's son and everyone's cute little brother.
As the years passed, Ekai grew into a brilliant and handsome young man, a youth whose smile rivaled the sun in its brightness. Ekai was happy, for he loved his family and his home, but in his heart of hearts, he was also sad. For you see, he had a bright mind and loved to learn... and there are only so many things Ekai could learn in the village that was his home. He could hunt, but he was far from the best hunter. He could work as a farmhand, but he wasn't the best at that, either. He was a passable healer, but the doctors that occasionally trekked up to the village were much better. No, what Ekai was best at was learning.
Ekai wondered what it would be like to travel down the mountain. Whenever his mind was idle, he dreamed of the faraway lands he could explore, the new things he could learn. But alas, he was needed in the village. He tended the garden for the elderly Nana, who had arthritis in her knees and could barely walk. He babysat for little Aki, who was small and sickly, and often caught colds in the cooler months. During harvest time, the salves he had learned to make from a traveling priestess soothed the aches brought on by hard work.
How could he leave his family, when they needed him so?
So Ekai stayed in the village, happy but also unhappy and desperately bored.
Then came the unhappiest year of all fourteen years Ekai had seen.
The summer was long and dry, and their crops withered from the heat and unrelenting sun. Then, at the end of summer, there came a great storm that shook the mountain. The storm scared away the animals that the villagers hunted. Finally, as fall was setting in, bandits came and stole what little food remained in their home. All that was left was the village itself—the ramshackle huts, the people, and one skinny milk cow named Rui.
Winter would soon come to the mountain, and surely it would be a cold one.
Ekai's family would starve.
So Ekai went to the village elders, and begged them to let him leave. "Please, let me go ask for help from our neighbors. Surely, their luck this year has been better. Surely, they will not leave us to starve. What use am I here? I am no great hunter to find the last of the wild goats hiding on the mountain. I am no farmer, able to pull what little remains of our crops from the sunbaked soil." So impassioned were his pleas that even though Ekai was young and had never traveled far from his home, the elders agreed to let him go.
The next morning, Ekai left his village for the first time. He traveled down the mountain with little more than the clothes on his back and a loaf of hard bread to feed him. The first village he came to, their closest neighbors, turned him away— they, too, suffered under the effects of the drought. "We have nothing to share," the villagers said, "But perhaps closer to the valley, you might find help."
The next village was the same, as was the next. Reaching the base of the mountain, Ekai sought out a village in the valley, only to be turned away once again. "Go home, boy. We have troubles enough of our own here. You think we have food to share with a beggar like you?"
Fatigued by his long journey and greatly saddened by his failure to find help, Ekai retreated back to the mountain. By that time, only crumbs remained of the bread he'd taken with him. As evening approached, he took a seat on a boulder beside the great road that would lead him back home. His stomach growled with hunger. I see, thought Ekai, I have failed, and we will all die from hunger.
His morbid thoughts were disturbed by a piercing scream.
Ekai turned, and saw a small brown bird, a sparrow, crying out in pain as it tried to fly. Its wing was obviously broken. His heart was moved, for surely the bird had a family waiting for her, just as his family waited for him to return. He calmed her with a soft lullaby, the same he used to soothe little Aki when he fussed, and put a makeshift splint on her wing— strips of cloth cut from his shirt and a twig collected from the ground. Then, as night fell, he shared his meager dinner with her, recognizing the hunger in her eyes. "Here." He spoke, placing the crumbs left from his stale loaf of bread on the ground beside him. "These will feed you better than they would me... There is no reason for both of us to go hungry."
Exhausted, Ekai fell into a restless sleep, for it always desperately difficult to sleep deeply when you are hungry, and boulders do not make good pillows. In his dreams came a spirit in the shape of a beautiful woman.
Her tumbling curls reminded Ekai of the river near his home, her dress the dark green of the forests that surrounded his village, her eyes the bright blue of a cloudless sky. She spoke with a voice that was the song of the mountain—a voice that echoed of the calls of songbirds, of the howls of hungry wolves, of the buzzing of bees as they flit from flower to flower. "You are a kind soul, Ekai."
Kind? Ekai wondered. What good is kindness, really, if no one returns it? I have failed, and my family and I will starve during the winter, if we do not do so before.
"You have shared what little food you had with the hungry, and healed the hurts of an innocent. The bird you helped was my daughter. In exchange for your kindness, I give you a gift." But before the youth could explain he needed no gift, ask what gift she offered, or even ask the identity of the woman, Ekai awoke with a gasp. It was morning already. The bird that had slept beside him was gone, and the world was alive with voices. A quick glance around showed no people nearby, and Ekai was confused. Am I hearing things due to my hunger, he thought, his stomach releasing a loud growl at the thought of food.
"Hello, friend. Do you need help?" asked a passing beetle, circling around the youth's head. "You sound hungry. Would you like me to point you in the direction of some food? Humans can eat acorns, right?" And the young man understood what gift the spirit of the mountain had given him.
So Ekai trekked back up the mountain and returned to his village, his home. He spoke to the creatures of the forest, and led the women of the village through the woods, gathering hidden mushrooms, roots, and fruit. He spoke to the birds, and led the hunters to where the wild goats had gathered for shelter. He spoke to the insects, and led the warriors of the village to the cave at the base of the mountain where the bandits hid their ill-gotten supplies.
The villagers had more than enough food to survive the winter, and Ekai was happy, both on the outside and within his heart of hearts. Never again did Ekai have the urge to leave his family, for every creature that lived on the mountain— whether it flew, swam, or crawled, would visit him and whisper secrets in his ears.
The village was safe, his family was happy, and Ekai never again lacked new things to learn.
Renata's mother pauses after the story is done, patting her daughter's head. "Ekai was our ancestor. He was gifted with the ability to speak with all that lives and breathes. They say that the blessing has weakened through the generations— your great-great-grandfather, for example, could only speak to monkeys. Some children are born without the gift at all. I, on the other hand, can speak with anything that walks, swims, or flies, just like Ekai... and I suspect you are the same."
"... What can we use it for, Mamma?"
"Just like any talent, we use it to improve our lives, to protect ourselves and our families. And, just like Ekai, we can use our gift to learn more about the world." She does not say that for generations the more gifted members of her family have been information brokers. Her job as an actress is a cover, an idle pastime that lets her play with the skills she's cultivated for her true career.
Renata is a precocious child with a brilliant analytical mind, but it is not time to introduce her to that world.
Not yet.
Suddenly, Renata has many new lessons to attend— sewing costumes, acting, gathering information... So many new and interesting things to learn!
Her mother is definitely her favorite tutor.
04. Academy
Renata is eleven when her parents send her away to a boarding school.
Her mother has run out of things to teach her.
"In bocca al lupo!" Her mother's voice sings as she steps away from the front door of the dormitory building. "Crepi. I'll see you in a few months, Mamma." Renata, resigned to her fate, does not even try to feign enthusiasm.
Unaffected by her daughter' deadpan reply, the older woman continues, melodramatically, "You were born for this; do your best, Ren-chan! And write Mamma and Papa lots, okay?"
"Yes, Mamma." And then, exasperation bleeding into her tone, "Yes, I'll remember to write." To you, anyway. That man is another story; he's not really interested in anything I say.
She is less than thrilled to find that the door to her dormitory room has a plaque for Renato Sinclair, as well as a name she does not immediately recognize—her roommate's, she assumes. Mamma... I should have known. I should have been much more suspicious when you agreed to let me cut my hair, and bought me more sets of boys' uniforms than girls'.
Conniving woman.
...I suppose I can be Renato Sinclair for a while. It will be good practice, which, I suppose, is exactly the point. She sighs, and stands a little straighter, eyes narrowing in determination. At least it is a name I chose and a personality not too far from my own. Indeed, there are at least as many truths as lies in Renato— though the boy's origins and connection to the underworld are unknown.
Her lips curl into an arrogant smirk, eyes darkening with suppressed glee. And it will be fun to see how long it takes everyone to catch on to the game, to discover that I am Renata instead, and that there is no last name on record at all.
Renato opens the door to her shared room to find a relatively tall, brunette boy already in residence. "Chaos." She murmurs to the stranger who will be sharing this home away from home with her.
"Who are you?" A hostile voice demands as soon as she enters the room.
Arching a brow, "You roommate." Idiota, who did you think I was? Donning and expression of infinite patience, she hauls the hefty suitcase containing her things into the room, approaches the unoccupied bed, and begins unpacking. Completely nonchalant, despite the hostility previously directed at her.
"Oh." The boy fumbles for words, blushing faintly, "Umm. Sorry. I thought— never mind."
"Renato Sinclair." She gestures to the plaques on their door. "Call me Renato or Ren."
"Um... Timoteo di Vongola. But you already know that, I guess?" Young, coltish, and shy, she analyzes. Poorly socialized, but in a different way than I am. "Timoteo or Teo is okay. Not Tim."
"Pleasure to meet you, Timoteo. As we're going to be cohabitating for the foreseeable future, I hope we can be... friends." I would settle for vaguely hostile neutrality, at least.
"Ah, sure?"
"Great." Aren't you just the vision of a social butterfly, Timoteo? Trying to learn a little more about her new roommate's interests, she asks, "...What sort of clubs are you thinking of joining?"
"Clubs?"
"Afterschool things. Sports, gardening, music— whatever. Didn't you look at the brochures for the Academy?" Her first impression of the boy is not being improved on.
"Not really. This was kind of a last-minute decision."
"Hm." That sucks. "I believe I have a brochure in my things, if you want to take a look. I myself am interested in linguistics, herpetology, and all things martial."
"..Her-herpetology?"
She correctly interprets his stumbling over the word as a lack of knowledge, "The study of amphibians, lizards, and the like." She gestures to the small green form perched on her shoulder; her partner in crime. "Like Leon here."
Hello, Timoteo di Vongola, said chameleon greets politely, though the words go unnoticed by all but Renato.
"Ah... Is he poisonous?"
"No." Idiota, she decides firmly. "He's a chameleon." She deadpans, and turns back to her unpacking, careful to keep Timoteo in her peripheral vision. It wouldn't do to show her back to a stranger. Her mother taught her better than that.
Despite the rocky beginning, the unlikely pair becomes fast friends, of a sort.
Allies, at least.
It does not take long for Renato to discover that Timoteo is currently the sole heir of one of, if not the most powerful mafia family. In fact, it is depressingly easy to find information on him, both in the records of the school— why didn't he think to falsify them?— and by listening in on conversations around campus. It's ridiculous how much gossip there is! She even learns his flame attribute within the first month.
Teo is a Sky— a Sky actively seeking guardians, which is why he is in Mafia School in the first place.
She is both glad and disappointed that her new friend— ally— has already attracted a Sun Guardian. His flames, while strong and pure, do not call for her attention at all. Would they have, if he did not already have a Sun? Hmft; like I care!
Besides, she reasons, I would hate to be renamed, like a pet dog. Especially something trite like Éclair or Mousse. Her friend— ally!— is an odd one.
Renato is nobody's pet. Whatever names she adopts, whatever roles she chooses to play in life— they are her own.
In contrast, it takes Timoteo what feels like forever to stumble upon any of Renato's secrets.
Over three years into their friendship, Timoteo accidentally walks in on Renato while she's changing.
"Teo. You forgot to knock." She admonishes, buttoning a sunflower-yellow long sleeved shirt, the bindings on her chest— something she'd had to adopt fairly recently to hide her growing curves— are painfully obvious.
Her friend is still sputtering, and the rather brilliant shade of red his face has turned is entirely unflattering. "Y-y-you're a girl!" He practically shrieks, voice breaking halfway through the exclamation.
"Scream a little louder," she murmurs with a toothy smirk, eyes narrowed slightly in distaste at the sudden noise. "I think someone in southern Italy didn't hear you."
"B-b-but we've been sharing a room!"
"And? Are you afraid I molested you in your sleep or something?"
Timoteo somehow manages to flush an even deeper red. He groans melodramatically before collapsing on his bed and muttering into his pillow, "Not proper. So very not proper. Is Renato even your name?!"
"Who cares?" She replies glibly, tucking in her shirt, then pulling on a carefully tailored black vest. "My parents obviously don't. And rest assured— I have no interest in you whatsoever. Beyond friendship, that is." She frowns. I don't have that sort of interest in anyone, really. "Feel free to continue treating me as a boy." She completely ignores his question about her name.
"Renaaatoooo, you're such a pain!" Timoteo whines, voice muffled by his pillow.
"...As always, I am surprised you've managed to survive Mafia School so far."
"Hey! What do you mean?"
"I mean... It's a miracle you're still alive. Spending years unaware of your best friend's gender? Despite living in the same room practically year-round?"
"That's unfair! You're too good at keeping secrets, Renato..."
"As I should be. And be thankful for that too, Teo. You should have fired whoever handles your security a hundred times over by now."
"N-no! It's not that bad, you're just unnaturally good at information gathering. At everything! Weirdo."
"...Teo?"
"Yeah?"
"It's unbecoming for a Mafioso, especially an heir like you, to stutter. Or whine, for that matter." Rolling up her sleeves to a little below her elbows, she settles on a semi-casual look. "Best up your game, Teo," She flashes a roguish smirk in his direction, "Regardless— you promised to go to the shooting range with me on our day off. We may as well go now."
The younger man groans again, but stands, straightening his clothes. "... Why are we friends again?"
Oh writing gods above, not another one.
(Why, muses, why?! I almost feel regret for reading so much KHR fanfiction... Almost.) The idea of an AU with a genderswapped Reborn refused to leave me alone until I wrote something. (The Mafia needs more terrifyingly badass women, okay?)
And then it kind of... spiraled out of control. A lot. (Meep.) Anyway, I decided to cut what would have been chapter one in half and post it as a little (rather belated) birthday gift for me.
...Worth continuing, do you think?
