Arc III – If I Only Had A...


07. (In)tuition

Xanxus has a terrifying amount of potential, perhaps even more so than the other children she's taken under her wing. He is no less brilliant than her previous students, but the young Vongola is decidedly less malleable—experiences in his early childhood firmly implanted an independent streak a mile wide in him. Like Skull. But unlike the Lackey, and indeed unlike all of the students Reborn has tutored in the past, Xanxus has street smarts and is entirely willing to discard conventional morality. The angry little dragon has the instincts of a survivor, but still possesses the open-minded nature and protectiveness found in the best Skies.

The only issue is his distrust of adults, of authority... I will have to adjust my approach. Or will I? Most people regard Arcobaleno like children on a subconscious level. Reborn acknowledges that she cannot teach him the same way she did Luce, who both trusted and respected her for being an upperclassman, and there is certainly no need to tortu—err, motivate him like the Lackey.

Then again, should I really be overanalyzing my approach this much? I'm not one of his tutors officially, though doubtlessly that was Timoteo's intent. Xanxus is family now. And yet, unlike Shamal, I won't be his primary caregiver... Hm.

A delicate balance.

Because Xanxus will make a fantastic leader, assuming he learns to control his emotions and reign in his temper. No, he will be a fantastic leader, because Reborn will make certain of it, because she will accept no other future, come hell or high water. In some ways, her godson reminds Reborn of a wilder, less polished Daniela di Vongola.

The opportunity to advise him, to watch him grow, is almost enough to change her stance towards Timoteo.

Almost.

Finding age-mates that Xanxus can harmonize with will be an interesting challenge, as well. She certainly can't leave it up to Xanxus— he's as touchy as an adolescent Storm and nearly as antisocial as a Cloud— and Timoteo has done an appalling job of introducing his three eldest to suitable individuals.

She hadn't had to do such a thing for Luce, and Shamal claims to be wholly uninterested in 'chaining himself to a Sky for the rest of his life.' Perhaps the boy idolized Renato Sinclair a bit too much. That hitman would have settled for nothing less than a full harmonization with a Sky she respected.

And what of Reborn? Reborn washed her hands of the matter entirely, more than a little cynical after being betrayed by Luce. If through some miracle it happens? Good. If not? Well, the odds have always been against her anyway.

Several weeks after their initial introduction, Reborn walks back into Xanxus' life with a casual, "Ciaossu." And this time, she definitely means chaos, and not a portmanteau of Ciao and Ossu.

The boy startles, jerking back and narrowly avoiding toppling from his chair, having been reading a textbook at his desk, "Tra—Reborn. What does that even mean?"

Ah, so the lesson stuck. Good.

"It means exactly what it sounds like. Ciaossu." If you want more information, find it yourself. Or learn to ask more direct questions. "I am glad to find you studying; you've been neglecting your schoolwork in favor of combat training." Things will go better for you if you don't. The threat hangs in the air, unsaid, and there is just the slightest undercurrent of murderous intent emanating from the tiny hitman.

Xanxus scowls, expression mutinous, and turns to face the Arcobaleno, "The hell you even know that?"

Good. He's not trying to lie to me. A beatific smile; Reborn is the picture of innocence. Leon, sensing his partner's mood, calmly saunters down Reborn's shoulder towards her hand. "It's because I can read minds." It's certainly not the fact that I've hacked Vongola's security and bugged the library and classrooms. Perish the thought!

Red eyes glare back, stubborn in their disbelief. "I call bullshit."

They you are more sensible than most. Reborn shrugs, completely unruffled by being called out on the lie,"Whether you believe me or not is no matter." A comically large Leon-mallet is now gripped firmly in Reborn's right hand. "I assure you, I am not tolerant of laziness, Xanxus."

"Tch— like you've got any say. Fuck that! And like this shit will ever be useful anyway." He waves the biology textbook in his hands about, then moodily tosses it back on the desk. "I'd rather be learning just about anything else. Something useful."

I'm your godparent, of course I have a say. Timoteo is obviously going to continue failing at parenting. Someone has to step up. She doesn't verbalize those particular thoughts.

"You can't think of a single future use for animal or plant biology?" Reborn drawls, tone innocent, despite the fact she's raising the mallet ominously. "Really." I didn't think you were that stupid. Shall I beat that out of you?

Crash! Xanxus dodges at the last moment, and the only casualty of Reborn's sudden attack is his chair, which breaks under the onslaught. "I know you're not that stupid, godson."

"Fuck! What—"

"The basics are important," is her nonchalant reply. "A Mafioso of your standing must be well-educated." Crash! And there goes an unquestionably expensive lamp as Xanxus frantically dodges to the side. Good reflexes for his age. Understandable, if he's off the streets.

Leon discards the mallet form, returning to his usual green-lizardy self as Reborn smiles toothily, and simply— flows, appearing on Xanxus' shoulder, and slapping the back of his head none too gently. "Don't you want to be a Boss one day?"

"Ow! Fuck you, shitty godfather... Damn, but you're fast." The latter is said with a hint of admiration. Reborn delivers a second slap, this one for excessive use of foul language.

"You're interested in combat and weapons training? Your mind is your most invaluable weapon. What you think, what you say and how you say it are just as important as how easily you can kill someone."

Once you know how to play the game expertly, you can disregard the rules.

"Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You don't? That's fine. I will ensure the lessons... sink in." Sensing the threat, Xanxus jerks forward, trying to dislodge Reborn from his shoulder. Reborn obliges, leaping onto the boy's desk and examining the textbooks piled there. Standard fare; nothing particularly difficult for a child his age, although I suppose his education has been inconsistent in the past.

"Tch! Whatever." Xanxus eyes Reborn with suspicion, brows furrowing. "What I want to know is— what are you lying about? Every time I think 'godfather' I feel you're lying about something."

Reborn smirks, turning away from the stack of books. "So you inherited the famed Vongola Intuition? Good. And you've already surpassed the current Don Vongola's aptitude for it."

"S'not an answer," is the preteen's surly reply. "And what intuition?"

She gives a concise lecture on Vongola Intuition, and Sky Intuition in general— most powerful Skies manifest intuition in some form or other, whether sensing truth from lies, being able to quickly deduce the most likely outcomes in a situation, or just a nebulous feeling when in danger.

"As for what you're sensing... Hm. It's a secret. I'll tell you if you get perfect score on your next biology test," Reborn offers magnanimously. After all, it's hardly a secret among the people I consider family. I suppose it is a good enough way of testing your trustworthiness. "If you don't, you'll have to pass a test that's a hundred times more difficult to hear the truth." Or I'll just make you guess until you figure it out. Fun for me either way.

"My next biology test is tomorrow." The red-eyed child deadpans, expression incredulous. "That's why I was studying. You know, before you started destroying my room."

Reborn shrugs, "Well, if you really don't want to know..." She answers in a goading tone, egging Xanxus on.

"Fine, whatever. I'll pass the shitty test." Reaching around Reborn, he yanks his biology book off of the desk, flipping through it to find his place.

"A hundred percent score, and no less." Reborn offers her hand, and they shake on it. Whatever the outcome, Xanxus is going to be motivated to study. If need be, Reborn will continue to bribe and threaten him into compliance.


"...Teach me to use my Flames," an eleven year old Xanxus demands over breakfast. It is early fall, and the pair are enjoying the last of the good weather by eating outside.

"Why should I?" Reborn leisurely sips her espresso— nice and dark, with just a hint of hazelnut to add to the flavor. There is no reason for her to indulge her godson's request. On the other hand, there's no reason not to. I suppose he's more than old enough, and mature enough not to abuse the privilege in front of civilians.

"Please."

Reborn arches a brow. Politeness? That is certainly not this young Sky's strong point, despite her efforts. "You're asking nicely," is the offhand comment she gives in response. "But you've yet to tell me why you want to learn." And why I should teach you.

Shoulders slumping, Xanxus admits, "I'd rather you teach me than one of my brothers. Or, God forbid, Sawada." That the patriarch of the family is too busy does not need to be said. Though, I wonder why he does not ask his grandmother? While elderly, she is still... everything she was as acting Donna.

A fantastic Sky.

"Hm. Still not the why."

"Gunsmithing." Xanxus had received a perfect score several final exams last semester. Per their agreement, Reborn had arranged for an appropriate tutor on said topic. "I— I read about the Settimo's gun. I want to recreate it."

And in order to do so, you need better understanding and control of your own Flames.

"...Massimo and Iemitsu heard about my project."

And probably teased you about it, my little dragon, implying your Flames are weak.

Finishing her delightful coffee, Reborn sets the cup and saucer aside. "Hm." Silly. Considering you first accessed your Flames well before you turned ten, they know full well you're a strong Sky. Jealous of a child over a decade their junior? Morons. "I suppose I could; you've been excelling in your lessons. The usual rules apply." Those can be summarized in one sentence: if your grades start to slip, I stop teaching you extracurricular things and my trigger finger starts to slip.

She is rewarded by a mischievous grin; a treasure, considering how rare it is Xanxus' face shows anything beyond a derisive sneer or scowl. She is teaching him to mask his true feelings in public, after all.

"Do you know how to access Flames without a triggering emotion like fear or anger?"

Xanxus shakes his head mutely, smile slipping away, immediately replaced by an adorable scowl.

Adorable in Reborn's opinion, of course. Homicidal is the word some of the less seasoned members of housekeeping use.

"All the better, I don't have to encourage you to forget any bad habits..." As the lesson continues, Reborn finds herself drawn to those red-tinted Sky Flames; they resonate strongly with the helpless rage that has burrowed its way into her heart since Luce's betrayal. Ah, but this is part of the danger of teaching a powerful, unattached Sky, isn't it, Ren?

Alas, harmonizing would be tantamount to placing herself under Xanxus' command, something she cannot afford.

I may be tied to Xanxus of my own free will— a godmother, a mentor, and perhaps someday a friend— but I can never be one of his Guardians. We are simply too different to achieve the level of understanding necessary for true harmonization to occur.

Regretful but resolute, she tightens the mental grip on her Sun Flames, and continues on, as always.


A few months later, once Xanxus has some semblance of control over his Flames, Reborn spirits him away from Vongola Headquarters for a weekend, dragging him to the Academy. It's killing two birds with one stone, really.

"Ciaossu, Shamal. I have decided to visit," Reborn announces imperiously as she strides into the Academy clinic, keen eyes picking up the handful of Mist-made traps and other safeguards present in the room. Xanxus lingers beside her, dressed casually in black jeans and a long-sleeved dress shirt a rather understated shade of maroon. The preteen is glowering darkly, clearly unhappy to be there.

Shamal startles momentarily, spilling papers over his desk, then groans theatrically and covers his face. "What have I done to deserve this visit?"

"Twelve." Reborn replies cheerily, nimbly leaping onto said desk, black leather loafers landing squarely on top of said paperwork. It crinkles under her feet.

"Twelve... what?" Shamal half-heartedly attempts to retrieve said papers, and after failing to do so leans back in his chair, feigning confusion.

The diminutive hitman is not amused. "Twelve is the number of open contracts for your head, still attached to your body or not. And those are only the ones that pay well enough to be brought to my attention." She's aware of the rest of them, of course, but no one capable of injuring Shamal would take jobs for such a pittance.

The Mist finds himself promptly kicked in the head, sent flying from his chair. Reborn strolls over to where her adopted son landed, nudging him none-too gently with her foot. "Idiot. Keep your skirt chasing to a minimum until you finish your residency and fellowship." Or you won't be able to balance clinic, dodging assassins, and freelancing.

"Who, me?" Shamal utterly fails at feigning innocence.

Reborn is wholly unamused. "Is that a request for remedial lessons, squirt?"

Both Xanxus and Shamal blanch at the thought of remedial lessons, and the hitman smirks internally at the conditioned response. Shamal rises to his feet, spewing half-formed explanations, but Reborn is actually uninterested in carrying out her threat at the moment. She glances back over her shoulder and gestures for Xanxus to come closer. "Xanxus, this idiot is Shamal. He is training to be a doctor, and currently acting as an assistant to one of the pediatricians on campus."

"Shamal, this is Xanxus di Vongola, my godson. His father is considering sending him to the Academy part-time starting next year."

"Ugh, a boy. Couldn't you tutor a cute girl instead, Reborn?"

Xanxus' eyes narrow in distaste. "Trash."

Oh yes, Reborn thinks with a sly grin, this will be fun to watch. She doesn't feel a whit of guilt for setting the two against each other; it's only temporary, after all. And she wants to see how Shamal deals with a strong, unattached Sky's influence... and how Xanxus deals with Mist illusions.

It's for their own good, really.


08. (Dis)harmony

Reborn is three, unchanging as always.

Her godson is fourteen when his world is turned upside down a second time.

"My Ma's dead." Xanxus says without any preamble when Reborn appears his quarters, having carefully jimmied a window open. The autumn sky is painted a deep burgundy behind her as the sun inches towards the horizon. The reason for the unusual entrance is clear: miscellaneous furniture is piled in front of the door that leads into the hall— a desk, a chair, a bookcase— a deterrent to anyone trying to enter the room through more conventional means.

Reborn doesn't bother to ask how her godson knows this fact; she's taught him well, after all. Why he wanted to know in the first place is easy enough to deduce.

The unruly teen is sprawled on a black leather couch, staring up at the ceiling, expression unreadable. There is blood on his knuckles, and considering how he's holding his right hand, likely a couple fractured bones. While the teen is otherwise uninjured, Reborn finds herself disturbed by how unnaturally still her godchild is.

She frowns, the concern in her eyes hidden by the shade cast by her fedora. Leon skitters up the back of her neck and circles the brim of her hat, watching intently. Xanxus continues rambling, not waiting for a response, his speech occasionally slipping into the coarser dialect he'd learned and used in his early childhood. "I figured she was, 'cause she was pretty out of it when she dropped me off here, but... Now I know for certain. And that utter fucker, the old man, he knew and didn't bother to tell me. She was my mother."

This listlessness isn't like her self-assured, willful Sky child.

Ambling to the couch, Reborn silently vaults herself upwards, landing on the armrest and settling down beside Xanxus' head. What is there to say in such a situation? Reborn is not one for false platitudes, and never has been. What could she say? That her mother passed away when she was about the same age? That she cut her father out of her life shortly after? That she drowned herself in school and work and all but lost her sense of self, using a mask to hide her grief from the world?

Reborn chooses to stay silent. Reaching down, she squeezes the young Vongola's shoulder gently, a gesture meant to be both consoling and supportive. Leon peers over the brim of the hat and flicks his tongue in Xanxus' direction, the little chameleon's own version of offering support.

"I don't know what to feel," Xanxus admits quietly. "Sad. Angry... or maybe just relived. She'd— she wasn't well. Even then, I should have had the chance to say goodbye." Lassitude shifts rapidly into anger, and Xanxus is up and pacing the floor like a caged beast, eyes flashing an eerie crimson as he rages.

"Don't they think even I deserve that small courtesy?" Out comes the rot that has wriggled itself into the boy's psyche over the years, reinforced again and again by the conflicting standards imposed on him and constant disapproval from those that should be family. "Am I a whoreson and a bastard, worth nothing to anyone?! Or am I the youngest of Don Vongola's sons, to be fawned over and babied? Always the fucking double standards!"

You are Xanxus, and that is all that matters.

Reborn listens, outwardly dispassionate, letting him vent without judgement; a cold fury courses through her veins. Because Xanxus is hers, just like Shamal is, just like the Arcobaleno are, and Reborn protects what is hers. She decides to make a few discreet visits to the loudest of Xanxus' detractors.

"Shit!" Bright flames, a swirling mixture of red and orange, flare around Xanxus' hand. He punches the solid, Flame-resistant wall in front of him. Reborn can hear the bones in the teen's hand grind against each other. Yes. That will definitely need healing. He leaves behind an impressive dent, and resumes pacing the room, fuming, continuing his rant.

"Five years of lies from that trash! Five! I didn't even get to say goodbye to her... And that old fuck didn't— he's such a liar. I'm adopted, Reborn. He all but admitted it. I knew there was something shifty about that son of a bitch." Xanxus spits out vehemently, retreating back to his couch and throwing himself onto it with abandon. "So I'm not even his son. Not even a Vongola, for all that I seem to have their infamous intuition." The 'who am I, really?' goes unsaid, but she can read it easily in his body language, see it on the planes of his face.

"You are Xanxus," she replies, though she knows what her godson is really asking— Ddd he take me in out of pity? Because of my Sky Flames? Am I just another tool to him, to wield in the defense of Vongola and discard after I crack? There isn't a reference book she can search or database to hack to find the answer. Reborn offers the cold truth instead. "I don't know what Don Vongola's true intentions were. I doubt even he knows."

Xanxus stretches out on the couch, folding his arms behind his head, wincing slightly at the motion. A barked laugh, harsh and bitter, "Ha! And here I thought you knew everything." There are no tears; Xanxus learned the futility of crying years ago. Better to rage and try to channel it into something productive. "...What do I do now?"

A flicker of warmth in Reborn's cold heart; Xanxus trusts her enough to show this level of vulnerability, to seek her advice.

"Hm. Does anything need to change? Xanxus is still my godson—" My little dragon. "You're still Daniela's beloved grandson. Even if you're not as connected to the main line Vongola as directly as Nono claims, you're still bloodline. All anyone needs to do to see it is take a look at the portrait of the Vongola Secondo."

"And what if I don't want to be here?" Xanxus mutters quietly, face washed clean of expressions, unsettlingly blank. "What if I don't want to be a Vongola?"

Head tilting slightly to the side, she asks, "Where would you rather be? Who do you want to be? What do you want from life... that decision is yours." I am your ally, not Timoteo's. If you truly want to cut and run, I will help you disappear. "Weigh the options, and then tell me."

Xanxus snorts, one part self-disgust and one part at the sentimentality, but doesn't argue. "How is it you're more of a parent than that—" He bites back the expletives, replacing them with a low, guttural growl.

Reborn looks back at him like he's a complete moron. Ignoring his question for the moment, she holds a hand out, palm up, demanding, "Your hand." Xanxus stares for a moment, and then finally complies with a wordless grumble.

Holding the wounded limb still in her lap Reborn summons sparks of bright yellow Flames to her fingertips. While evaluating and then repairing Xanxus' self-inflicted injuries, she explains. "I have children." You. Shamal. "Blood ties don't always mean family, and family does not require blood ties."

Don't you know this already?

Once the damage has been healed, she nods decisively, releasing Xanxus' hand from her grip, and rises to her feet. "I'll leave you to your thoughts."

Xanxus forces himself back into a sitting position, flexing his hand, expression thoughtful. "...Stay." It's a command more than a request, but Reborn doesn't have it within her to say no to her child. Not now. Not in this situation.

"Hm. Just this once." She concedes, hopping up to the back of the couch and strolling over to Xanxus, leaning down to pet his surprisingly silky black hair, careful to not disturb the feathers braided in. Always. You need only ask, she thinks, a fierce flame burning in her heart. And then, something in Reborn shifts, like a puzzle piece falling into place, or an image that had always been imperceptibly fuzzy sharpening into focus.

Her hand stills, fingers still tangled in Xanxus' hair. "Oh," she breathes. The first thought that comes to mind is: so this is what harmonization feels like.

"That—" Xanxus leans forward, twisting around to face Reborn— crimson eyes meeting the immutable darkness of the void. "What was that?"

Reborn is obviously unsettled, a hint of wonder leaking into her voice. "That's... Harmonization." Thankfully, she doesn't have to introduce Xanxus to the concept; her godson is already aware of what harmonization is— and to a lesser extent what it means. "It is extraordinarily rare for a Sky and their bonded to have a significant age gap." She comments, almost idly.

There is warmth at the center of her chest, pulsing softly in synchronicity with the beats of her heart; it feels like home— the sound of her mother's laughter, the taste of chocolate cake and espresso, the warmth of an August sun in late afternoon. Reborn reaches up to touch the spot. So this is what a harmonized bond feels like.

Reborn hasn't been caught this off guard in decades.

She should be angry. She should be absolutely furious with herself. You do not need this complication, the more logical part of her argues.

And yet...

And yet, this feeling.

She shimmies down the back of the couch to sit beside Xanxus, joining him in a relatively contented— or perhaps, stunned— silence. There will be time to discuss the implications later.

For now, Reborn basks in the impossibility of belonging.


09. Unique Varia(bles) in Rainbow Colors

For Reborn, harmonizing with Xanxus changes nothing, and changes everything.

She is still three. She retains the title of World's Greatest Hitman; her so-called competition is pitiful. She still drifts in and out of Xanxus' life— much like a Cloud would— and accepts whatever contracts interest her. Though now she demonstrates a preference for shorter assignments, particularly those based in Italy and nearby countries. Much to her relief, despite typical Sky-Element relationship dynamics, she keeps her role as mentor to Xanxus.

There is only one very obvious change in her behavior. Obvious to her, if not to others. Reborn spends far too much of her time monitoring the goings-on at Vongola Headquarters.

Recalling the shoddy quality of Timoteo's security while they were in the Academy together encouraged her to layer the entirety of Vongola HQ, and the rather vast estate surrounding it, with enough surveillance equipment— bugs that are electronic and otherwise— to keep a close eye on any problems that might endanger her Sky. The fact that she can do so without being caught does not improve her opinion of CEDEF, despite their recent recruitment of Blue—Lal Mirch nowadays, due to CEDEF's naming conventions— or that of Vongola Housekeeping, who are both servants and security.

Reborn admits, if only in the privacy of her own thoughts, that being Xanxus' only Guardian seems to be amplifying her innate paranoia to new heights. Whether her rather rabid overprotectiveness will persist even after Xanxus harmonizes with others is uncertain. Naturally, the best course of action is to test the theory; the earlier she does this, the better for everyone involved.

"Xanxus."

The young man in question barely twitches, engrossed in his work— meticulously transcribing plans for a Flame-powered gun, carefully penned on a massive sheet of paper pinned to his workroom wall. It's his sixth attempt. From what little I've learned about Flame-tech from Verde, or rather from hacking his files, this one might actually work instead of exploding outright, Reborn muses. If it does, I may ask if I can adapt his design for my use.

Regardless; my dear Sky needs to stop locking himself in his quarters, and I have just the diversion mind. "We're taking a trip to the Academy." Reborn announces, hand reaching for Leon— a mallet-Leon would just perfectly demonstrate her opinion of Xanxus' inattentiveness. Single-minded focus in the wrong situation will get him killed. Fortunately, her godson senses the danger.

"...visiting your shitty Doctor again?" Xanxus turns away from his work, expression resigned; he knows full well that once Reborn has decided something, she is near impossible to divert.

The innocuous smile, coupled with playful glint in Reborn's eyes has her godson instantly wary. "No, that's not it at all... Actually, Shamal got chased out a while ago." For harassing the nurses and older female students, the letch.

Xanxus snorts, disgust bleeding into his tone, "Of course he did." He mutters something barely audible about perverted trash under his breath.

Reborn ignores Xanxus' comments entirely, explaining, "You need new training dummies to practice on. People closer to your age with different skillsets."

"When?" The young man asks, stifling a yawn, stretching to combat the stiffness in his back and shoulders from sitting too long.

Reborn can't help but find his workaholic tendencies endearing. It's a little like looking at a young Renato. Still, sleep is necessary for both mental and physical health. "Tomorrow. Go to bed."

"Eh?" Xanxus blinks at the demand, setting down the pencil gripped in his hand. He makes an adorable image, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie skewed to the side, a smudge of charcoal on his left cheek.

"You lost track of time again." It's past midnight. "Go to bed," she reiterates, eyes narrowing with unspoken threat— or else.

"I'll clean up first." Xanxus bargains, having long ago learned that his Sun responds better to logic than arguing or whining for 'five more minutes' of time. Besides, it's already later than he usually goes to bed.

"Hm." Reborn hums her agreement, and motions for him to hurry up. An exhausted Xanxus cocoons himself in blankets less than fifteen minutes later.


Squalo Superbi will believe he met Xanxus by chance, the whim of fate. Silly boy; there are no such things when the World's Greatest Hitman is involved.

While the Academy remain unaware of Reborn's original identity— they aren't even aware of her connection to Renato Sinclair— it is a well-known fact the hitman is an alumnus. Thus, it is laughably easy for her to arrange for a small round-robin tournament among the top students currently attending the infamous school... How interesting that none of the thirteen students selected are a Sun or Sky. And that the fourteenth competitor is Xanxus.

She watches her godson rip through the competition with satisfaction. It's no real surprise; the strength of her Sky's conviction is mirrored by the strength of his Flames. It really is good for him to practice against others his age. And if nothing else, it gives me a better idea about potential Guardians available.

The only one that poses a challenge to her Sky is a silver-haired swordsman a few years his senior. Squalo Superbi, one of the finest minds currently attending the Academy, is an artist with a blade. As Xanxus prefers long-distance fighting and Squalo is fast enough to dodge his bullets, Xanxus has to adapt his strategy. The fight would have ended in a stalemate, were Xanxus not also excellent at hand-to-hand, and capable of maneuvering around Squalo's sword.

Reborn smirks at the Rain's expression after he's been revived; the older boy is definitely impressed by her godson. Only part of it is the Sky's ability to wield the Flames of Wrath that left him with several nasty-looking burns.

Xanxus and Squalo become fast friends, though it is not evident to someone that only sees the two interact in public. Though Squalo does his best to become the young Vongola's shadow whenever both boys have free time. Reborn knows they will harmonize long before the most rudimentary bond forms. Squalo will make a good right hand for Xanxus.

The year following his early graduation, Squalo seeks out his dreams. He systematically locates and challenges a hundred of the most skilled wielders of the sword around the world. He slaughters them to the last man. His last and most powerful opponent is a one-handed man named Tyr, the current Sword Emperor and leader of Vongola's Independent Assassination Squad, the Varia. Squalo, fiercely determined to win said title, even cuts off his own hand to better understand the older swordsman's techniques! Xanxus had not been happy to hear of his Rain's foray into self-mutilation.

Still, after a grueling battle that lasted over forty-eight hours, Squalo becomes the new Sword Emperor. Seventeen year old Squalo also inadvertently finds himself in charge of an organization filled to the brim with lunatics due to some convoluted rule about how the Varia chooses its leaders. He promptly recruits a fifteen year old Xanxus as his replacement.

Upon hearing the news, Reborn is torn between laughter— Xanxus will loathe the paperwork and many of his new subordinates will likely drive him up the wall— and screaming in frustration, given her longstanding refusal to join the Varia.

Goddamn it. If I believed in fate, I would think she is laughing at me.


Reborn watches, eagle-eyed, as Xanxus gathers Guardians over the next several years. They become Varia Officers, Xanxus' most trusted agents, and by the time Xanxus is seventeen, they are only lacking a Cloud, but that lot are notoriously finicky.

The first future Officer to be recruited to the Varia is Lussuria, one of Squalo's friends from the Academy.

Lussuria is a Sun.

Her— yes, her, because despite the body she was born with, or the Varia's stance on recruiting women, Lussuria is a woman— Sun Flames are the most powerful in the Varia, and she rapidly rises through the ranks after being recruited by Squalo. Despite her obvious Quality, and despite the fact that she gets on with the Boss remarkably well, she finds it impossible to harmonize with Xanxus, much to her frustration.

It is only after she earns her promotion to Officer of the Sun Division, after killing the previous Sun Officer, a useless stooge if she ever saw one, that she finally learns why.

The door to the officer's meeting room swings open. Behind it stands a young assassin— body lithe and limber, sharp eyes hidden behind wrap-around sunglasses, hair styled in a colorful mohawk.

"VOI! Get your ass in here," the silver-haired shark bellows. He's seated just to the right of Xanxus' throne-like chair, and the oval table in front of both young men is literally covered with a mountain of paperwork.

Xanxus doesn't stand on ceremony; not when he doesn't have to. Accordingly, his first words to the new officer are brusque. "Oi, trash. Introduce yourself and take a fucking seat."

Reborn, standing on the left arm of Xanxus' throne, glowers at the interloper silently. She can practically feel the young Sun's flames reaching for her Sky. Small hands twitch towards one of the guns hidden on her person, but she restrains herself. Leon laughs at her thinly-veiled annoyance.

"Boss-darling! I am Lussuria, Vittorio's replacement." Lussuria twitters cheerily and chooses the chair beside Squalo's, flashing the Rain a smile. It's only the four of them in this room— Xanxus, Squalo, Lussuria, and Reborn— the rest of the Varia officers are leftovers from Tyr's reign and thus have divided loyalties. Squalo, and to a lesser extent Xanxus have been recruiting possible replacements, but proving yourself Varia Quality, let alone quality enough to be an officer, takes time.

The frustrated teenager that is the focal point of the room jerks his head in the direction of his Rain guardian, sitting beside him. "You already know Squalo." Then, Xanxus gestures to the small figure on his other side. "My godfather." Who requires no further introduction. Although considering the venomous glare the Sun Officer is currently receiving, Xanxus briefly considers elaborating. He waves the thought off— if Lussuria is Quality, she'll figure it out. Or she'll die.

Reborn stares at the intruding Sun with cold, bottomless eyes. "Hm. She'll do as a stand-in, for now." Lussuria quickly processes the implicit threat— the killing intent that spikes any time her Flames try to interweave with that of her Boss make the situation rather obvious.

Stop attempting to harmonize with my Sky or you will stop breathing.

To her credit, Lussuria stops her attempts immediately, even if it takes her a few days' worth of observing Xanxus and Reborn interact to figure out why the pint-sized hitman is so disapproving of her presence and attempts at harmonization.

Despite the vague sense of fondness Reborn eventually develops for the younger Sun, she is far too possessive to allow anything but the weakest of bonds to form between Xanxus and his secondary Sun.


Next comes Levi-A-Than, another ambitious Varia member that claws his way to the top of the food chain. Levi is a lunatic. Certifiably insane, and completely obsessed with Reborn's godson. Granted, Lightning Elements are rarely the paragons of sanity, Mafia-raised ones especially, but Levi is in a class of crazy all his own. The less said about how the Levi initially met her godson— an unfortunate incident involving an assassination attempt and a piping-hot cup of jasmine tea dumped in someone's lap— the better.

Reborn tolerates him, and will continue to do so as long as the Lightning is both fiercely loyal and useful.


Things slow down after the first few months, once Xanxus has a chance to reorganize the Varia to his liking and cull some of the more obvious spies and the more blatantly incompetent members. Reborn is exceptionally thankful that her paranoia is at least somewhat alleviated with the addition of a further two guardians; she can trust the others to watch Xanxus' back... Well. Squalo, at least. Levi she trusts to be an adequate meat shield.

With that in mind, she can venture out farther and for longer periods of time without obsessively monitoring the goings-on in Varia Headquarters, her Sky's current place of residence.

Reborn is enjoying a well-earned break in a small, hidden nook above and a little to the right of the training rooms in the third basement level of the Varia HQ. Naturally, this involves coffee, hot and bitter—glorious!—sliding over her tongue and down the back of her throat. It may also involve a copy of Silence of the Lambs, which she is re-reading. That is, until she is rudely interrupted by the yellow glow from the accursed pacifier around her neck. The intensity of the glow is slowly increasing, indicating her fellow Arcobaleno, whoever it may be, is nearing her location.

I wonder who? A frustrated sigh. Likely Skull, considering I didn't receive a message ahead of time. "I suppose he did seem interested in meeting my godson the last time we spoke..." She quickly finishes her coffee, and weighs her options. She could go seek out her visitor, or wait and see if they discovered the Arcobaleno-sized tunnels constructed throughout the building. Eventually, she decides on the latter, starts a fresh pot of coffee and microwaves a small platter of bite-sized chocolate-filled croissants.

To Reborn's surprise, it's not only Skull that barges in the room a little under fifteen minutes later. "Ciaossu." She flashes a somewhat welcoming smile at her two visitors, "Pastry?" She offers, gesturing towards the plate. Because she is certainly not going to provide Skull with caffeine. Just... no.

"Hi Reborn-senpai! The amazing Skull-sama and Viper have come to visit!" Skull, dressed in his usual skintight purple-accented leather outfit but sans helmet, is practically vibrating in place. The youngest Arcobaleno scurries over to the table and quickly appropriates a croissant.

"Lackey." Reborn sighs internally. Maybe offering him sugar wasn't the best idea either.

"Reborn." Viper offers a polite nod in greeting, but does not seem inclined to stay and chat.

"Viper. An unexpected surprise." Reborn rather suspects the Mist is rolling their eyes under the hood.

"I wanted to meet your godson—Xanxus of the Vongola, right? And Viper agreed to help me get in the building and find you, and I figured they'd want to meet Xanxus too, and you would make the place scary-secure, and your tunnels are really, really cool, I—" Skull fires off rapidly, finishing the first croissant and reaching for a second one.

Wham! Reborn chooses to avoid the risk of a sugar-high Skull by applying an appropriate deterrent. With a Leon-mallet to Skull's head. "Don't talk so quickly that others don't have a chance to interject, Lackey. It's annoying."

Viper's lips quirk upwards for a fraction of a second. "Skull. I'll send you the bill." They quote an obnoxiously large sum, and then start to turn away, intending to investigate the Varia Mist Division.

Skull interrupts his obligatory melodramatic wailing about Reborn-senpai being a meanie to interject, "Wait, wait! Don't you want to meet Reborn's kid?" Suddenly appearing uninjured, Skull leaps back to his feet and flails. "Come on! You wanna see him too, right?!"

Reborn stifles a snort; Xanxus' expression at hearing that little epithet would be absolutely hilarious.

Viper pauses in the doorway, though whether it's at the mental image of Reborn as a maternal figure or in anticipation of the comical scene about to unfold is uncertain.

"I will continue charging you for my time, by the hour." They decree imperiously, slinking closer to the other two Arcobaleno, close enough to snag an empty mug and retrieve some coffee. Despite their apathetic expression, they are clearly radiating amusement at the violence Reborn is currently attempting to inflict on Skull.

"Word choice, Lackey!" Crash! This time, Skull dodges the Leon-hammer, flailing his arms comically and wailing. "Hourly fees?! But Viiiper!"

Ignore me, will you? Reborn thinks with a smirk. Crash! Another near-miss. Reborn's eyes flicker with vicious glee. "Training your body is good, but you're clearly neglecting your mind!" All three Arcobaleno know that Reborn's attacks are intended to be dodging practice more than an actual assault, and that Skull's histrionics are entirely feigned.

It's still fun.

Things eventually devolve to the point that Reborn chases Skull down a hallway, herding him by shooting live rounds. A door slams open with a bang, and a very irritated Superbi Squalo makes a grab for Skull, who dances out of the way nimbly, and sticks his tongue out at the swordsman, blowing a loud raspberry in response.

"VOOOOI! What the fuck?! Some of us have to work!"

None of the Arcobaleno bother to answer. Reborn and Viper simply do not care, and Skull is too busy dodging bullets from the former.

Squalo stares at Reborn, then at Viper, and then at the rapidly fleeing Skull, and, muttering something derogatory about 'fucking insane toddlers' retreats back into his office, slamming the door behind him. Reborn idly wonders about the state of the hinges on that particular door as she passes it. She'll get revenge for the toddler comment later.


Viper is curious. They have eyes, ears, and more than lint between said ears, unlike some people that shall go unnamed. The signs are obvious to someone as familiar with Reborn and her mannerisms as Viper is. Despite the monumental odds against her, against all of the Arcobaleno, their Sun has bonded with a Sky.

So Viper chooses to linger in the building that houses the Varia Headquarters, chooses not to smother the spark of hope flickering to life in their cold heart. Perhaps they will see if the Varia can afford their fees.

Skull, on the other hand, doesn't have the temperament to join the Varia. The diminutive Cloud is Quality, though he doesn't act it most of the time. He simply lacks that indefinable something needed to make a proper career out of murder. Perhaps he's just not enough of a sociopath. The atypical Cloud is in the Mafia because of the bastard that manipulated them into becoming Arcobaleno, and to a lesser extent because of Luce.

Once his curiosity is sated, Skull leaves, having agreed to occasionally act as a consultant for the Varia and signing a contract to provide driving lessons to their younger in-training operatives each summer.

Viper stays. Days become weeks... and a month and a half later, Mammon the Esper, the Varia's most powerful and avaricious Mist, is born.

Reborn is quite smug at that result.


Xanxus finds the precocious Storm that would be his— theirs, really, as in private Xanxus and his Guardians are very tight-knit family, if a highly unconventional one— on a mission.

Considering the boy's temperament and frightening intellect, Belphegor is quickly placed under Mammon's purview, although it costs the Vongola a pretty penny. Paying that fee from Don Vongola's personal accounts is both petty revenge and a warning to not overestimate the security of the Vongola finances. Their mischief goes either unnoticed or unheeded.

Reborn occasionally presides over a tutoring session for the capricious genius, and even more rarely drags the brat along on an easier mission, claiming that she's been saddled with babysitting duties whenever anyone tries to question her. To be honest, except for Xanxus, Mammon and Reborn are the only ones that can intimidate the miscreant into behaving for any amount of time.

Xanxus doesn't know whether Belphegor is actually nobility, nor does he care. Reborn and Viper, on the other hand, quietly verify that the brat is, indeed, what he claims.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter— Belphegor is Varia, and the Varia are Xanxus' people.


10. An Unusual Request

Reborn is three, and fifty-two. In some ways she is thankful for the small, spry body she has been cursed with. Almost. There are many downsides to this curse, but she has slowly come to accept that there are advantages, too.

She is no fool. Had Renato Sinclair not died and become Reborn she would have slowed by now, would likely have lost some her deadly edge. Given her choice of occupation, she would likely be dead. It is unlikely she would have lived long enough to see both of her children grow up. Harmonization would have remained a distant dream.

Xanxus is seventeen, a formidable Sky— my formidable Sky! — and secure as the leader of the lunatic collective colloquially known as the Varia. Those he's recruited to the organization are fiercely loyal to their Boss. The young man has developed a rather terrifying facility with firearms, and has recreated and heavily modified the gun that the Vongola Settimo wielded. Reborn did indeed borrow the basic plans and altered the design for her own use... after securing her Sky's permission, of course. That she also has access to, not to mention a means to manufacture, the Dying Will Bullets developed by the Vongola is something she keeps under her hat.

Shamal is over thirty and in complete denial of the fact— to the point Reborn suspects one of the diseases Shamal has created and infected himself with has halted his aging, or at least all outward signs of it. Having blazed through six years of medical school and an infectious disease residency, Shamal is working in a private clinic located in Mafia Land. He supplements his paychecks by moonlighting as a hitman. Trident Shamal has an impressive reputation for delicate work, and even earned enough attention to receive an offer from the Varia. He turned the recruiter down, giving the excuse the organization does not accept women; why, a womanizer like him would simply wilt in such an environment! Unsurprisingly, most of the bills he has to pay are accrued due to being sued for sexual harassment... Where did I go wrong with that boy? Then again, most powerful Flame-actives are at least somewhat unhinged.

Regardless, Reborn is fiercely proud of both of their accomplishments.

She is just settling back into her current residence—a comfortable suite of rooms hidden within the walls of several upper floors of Varia Headquarters— when the request arrives. A quiet chime from the laptop in front of her signals a new email. She ignores it for the moment, busy checking the integrity of the security nets she's layered over her rooms, as well as the entirety of Varia HQ.

Reborn shares the responsibility of maintaining the main base's security, as well as their information network, with the Mist Arcobaleno. Perhaps that should not come as such a surprise; they have different approaches to both jobs, and two sets of eyes on a problem are always better than one. In truth, being harmonized to the same Sky has led the pair to build a close friendship.

Is it so surprising, considering their shared interests?

The hitman is also responsible for arranging training schedules for both new recruits and current members, and ensuring all of the Varia Suns are adequate field medics, at the very least. Lussuria acts as an intermediary for the latter job, being in change of the Varia Suns as a whole. The younger Sun has learned to be a strict taskmaster when necessary, no small part due to Reborn's influence.

Reborn even accepts the occasional mission for the Varia, though always on the sly, as her allegiance to the group remains secret to all besides a select group— the five harmonized to Xanxus, Lussuria, and the singular annoyance known as Skull. Shamal likely suspects the truth, but has yet to corner her and ask.

Once finished with her self-imposed task, Reborn opens the message— a request for a long-term contract. Normally, she would refuse outright, but... Corners of her mouth angling downward, she muses out loud, "Chiavarone, hm?" They haven't been doing well, not since the current boss fell ill. "From what I remember from his files in the Academy, the last remaining heir is uninterested in leading the famiglia. Or involving himself in the underworld in general."

Much as I dislike dragging an unwilling child into our dark world... He is already involved, due to his bloodline. The Chiavarone are important to the stability of the allied famiglie and the alliance as a whole. And the alliance is important to the stability of the mafia as a whole.

A tutoring job? Her partner, resting on his favorite perch, the brim of her fedora, adds his own two cents. The fact that you helped train Xanxus is known among the highest echelons of the allied famiglie, so it's not that surprising a request. Still, the Chiavarone boy is hardly the sort of student you prefer.

"It would be an interesting challenge... and I do enjoy teaching. I can't do much of that here, not publicly."

But would you enjoy teaching someone uninterested in learning?

The hitman bares her teeth in a vicious grin, mind already spinning with new ideas for training an obstinate pupil. "That can be remedied easily enough."

True, I suppose. And the young dragon hardly needs us here on a day-to-day basis, constantly looming over his shoulder. Figuratively speaking.

The pint-sized hitman nods in agreement, adding "Xanxus has learned most of what I originally planned to teach him. And the longer I linger here without an obvious purpose, the higher the likelihood Don Vongola's intuition will lead him to suspect the truth... I have no plans to be chained to the Vongola. Not with Timoteo still refusing to step down, despite his age. And despite the signs Vongola is starting to stagnate under his leadership." The most obvious being the lapse in security that led to the death of his oldest son and heir.

You know, you're probably at least a little at fault for that. He sees you and thinks—well, my old schoolmate is still in the field. Why should I retire?

"He's a stubborn old fool, but not that stupid." A frustrated sigh, as Reborn removes her fedora, as well as the chameleon perched on it, placing her hat on the table beside the laptop. "Our situations are very different." She combs fingers through her unruly, spiky hair, teasing a curl that is masquerading as a sideburn.

It could be subconscious.

A hum of assent. "I hardly see him as it is. After all, we are little more than occasional business associates, regardless of his feelings on the matter."

Leon pins her with a piercing look. Reborn. You're godfather to his son. Estranged childhood friends or not, that's a strong connection.

I see your point. "...Distancing myself further may be advisable, despite my personal preferences." Then this is as good an opportunity as any. Nodding decisively, Reborn flashes a toothy, unsettling smile,"Very well. I will accept the boy as a student on a trial basis."

Decided already?

"I said a trial basis." Not one to dawdle, Reborn rises from her seat, placing her iconic fedora, talkative shape-shifting chameleon and all, back on her head. "We should go inform Xanxus."


From the sound of things, her godson is in his office, as is his Second-in-Command. The latter is loudly explaining the details of— Reborn really can't be bothered to pay attention, having deduced the shark is bellowing for the sole purpose of aggravating Xanxus, likely in an attempt to distract the Varia Boss from his thoughts and alleviate his decidedly black mood. Bureaucratic red tape always puts Xanxus in a murderous mood.

"I've been requested for a long-term job." Reborn announces, striding into Xanxus' office, uncaring of propriety as usual."

"Welcome back." Xanxus grunts, eyeing his mentor and Sun Guardian over the pile of reports on his desk. "How long?"

"Several years, at least." Too long a time to be parted from her Sky, to be honest. "The pay is acceptable, but the actual benefit would be greater stability among the allied famiglie." You have been concerned about the stability of Vongola's allies; their status influences Vongola, and thus the Varia.

Vongola needs a stronger base of support, especially after the fiasco that was Enrico's murder. Massimo is as obnoxious as his closest friend, Iemitsu Sawada, but not a lost cause. Not completely, at least. Federico would be a better heir, perhaps... well, that's largely up to CEDEF and Don Vongola.

"VOI!" Reborn's lapse into introspection is interrupted by the loud swordsman. "What do you mean, years?! What kind of worthless mission is this? You're more useful to the Boss here."

Bang! Several strands of silver hair flutter towards the ground, shorn from Squalo's head when he dodged the sudden attack. "Don't think you can tell me what to do, Superbi. I am not one of your underlings."

Xanxus entirely ignores the squabbling between his Sun and Rain. "What job?"

"Tutoring the Chiavarone heir until he's fit to take the mantle of Decimo." Reborn answers as she casually steps to the side, avoiding Squalo's retaliatory strike and casually sending three more bullets in the shark's direction.

Making a rapid about-face, Squalo laughs uproariously, all the while still doing his best to cut Reborn in half. "Voi! That klutz? Shit, I mentored him in school. Never mind years, that'll take decades!"

"Don't compare your paltry attempts to my teaching methods, shark bait." Leon turns into a metal staff that Reborn twirls expertly with a vicious smile, joining the spar with Squalo in earnest.

The 'friendly debate' between the two drastically different hitmen continues as Xanxus watches, torn between being amused and annoyed. Reborn, black eyes glimmering with humor, teases the silver-haired young man, who pretends to rise to the bait. They continue for nearly fifteen minutes, until Xanxus chases both Guardians out of his office with bullets wreathed in Wrath Flames.

In truth, their Sky's mood is much improved, despite the shitty news that one of his Guardians will be away for the foreseeable future, with only sporadic visits to look forward to. For all that Squalo has an atypical approach, his element is tranquility.


Two weeks of surveillance on the Chiavarone heir proves that 'challenge' is putting the situation lightly.

During that time, Reborn watches as Dino walks into everything from doorframes to people due to inattention, accidentally stabs himself with a fork three times, ruins his clothes by spilling either food or a beverage on them an unmeasurable number of times... And how often has she seen the boy trip on air? It's over two dozen times— per day.

Not to mention the fact that the child is in total denial of his status as heir.

...That boy is a complete and utter mess.

The words are said in such a deadpan tone, that Reborn has to actively suppress the laughter that tries to bubble up past her iron self-control. Her lips twitch upward as she replies. "I agree that Dino Chiavarone will need a lot of encouragement." Could a lack of self-esteem influence a Sky to be in disharmony with the world? It's much more likely he's just a complete klutz.

"Still, he seems to be a kind person." I'm going to take advantage of that to a ridiculous extent until he learns to defend his heart. "And he has some Sky charisma; he can pull people under his influence. He already has a half-formed bond with his caretaker, Romario. The brat is far from hopeless."

Leon does not deem it necessary to reply.

Well, then. Since the Chiavarone Nono is aware of my presence, it's time I go introduce myself to my unwilling student.

She's memorized her potential student's daily schedule, and a brief chat with a handful of her beetle minions proves her initial assumptions correct. The Chiavarone heir, having spent the noon meal at his ailing father's bedside, is sulking in the sprawling garden behind the manor house. The garden is a vast labyrinth, but poorly kept; the tall hedges that had once framed each footpath are beginning edge into the cobblestone.

It does not take much effort to locate Dino. She moves soundlessly into the square-shaped clearing placed at the center of the labyrinth, inspecting the moss-covered statuary—horses, of course— as much as she does the daydreaming teenager. Stopping about four feet him, she speaks. "Ciaossu."

"Yeeek!" Dino Chiavarone jerks into a sitting position after emitting a strangled squeak, the noise calls to mind a mouse that has been stepped on. He glances around wildly, trying to spot where the unfamiliar voice came from. "What? Who—?!"

"Down here." Reborn waves casually when Dino finally lowers his gaze enough to notice her, black eyes glinting with dark humor, just a hint of a smile on her lips.

The boy obviously recognizes her, and his response is somewhat amusing. "Ah! Y-you're— I don't want to die!" The fifteen year old wails, almost immediately bursting into tears, reduced to a blotchy, snotty mess in seconds. "I don't want to die!"

It is an embarrassing scene to watch, and Reborn deems it important to inform him of this fact. She does so, in a very bland tone. "A Mafia Boss shouldn't snivel like a baby." As if you would have seen me if I had any intention of killing you! Silly child.

Dino leaps to his feet, and his reply is surprisingly vehement, considering his earlier blubbering. "I don't have any interest in the Mafia!" He turns, perhaps intending to run, but trips over his own feet and lands face-first in the dirt, just in front of Reborn. "Ow! I'm okay."

Spitting out a mouthful of grass, the boy elaborates on his previous statement, though now that Reborn is closer, he sounds a touch more hesitant. "Father will—T-the world would be better off without the Chiavarone famiglia anyway."

"Oh?" The sweetness in her voice is very obviously feigned. She can practically smell Dino's fear. "Should I kill you right now and be done with it, then?" She offers calmly, Leon in her hand before she finishes the sentence, already in the shape of her favorite gun.

Dino shakes his head frantically, pushing himself back into a sitting position and scooting back away from the diminutive hitman, "N-n-n-no! Please don't!"

High-strung... But he has a spine in there somewhere. More polite than Xanxus, too. In that case, I'll use words, first, and then bullets. "Running from your future is futile, Dino Chiavarone."

"But I don't want to die!"

"Everyone dies. Besides, if you're giving up already, what's the point of living?" She asks, sounding perfectly reasonable; speaking in the same tone most people use to discuss the weather, or perhaps a particularly boring but useful book. You wouldn't survive for long if you tried to run away from your responsibilities anyway.

"I'm not giving up!"

"Aren't you? You're trying to throw away everything your family built, after all."

"I don't want to be a Mafia Boss! The Mafia is awful."

"Is it?" Reborn is the picture of innocence, even with the gun still in her hand.

"It is! Everyone knows it is! The Mafia is filled with liars, thieves and murderers!"

True, up to a point, but I can't say I agree with his logic nevertheless. "Interesting. I was under the impression that the Mafia famiglie keep the underworld at least marginally civilized... Would you prefer the criminal element fell into compete anarchy? What do you think would happen then?"

Dino, still sitting in the dirt a few feet from Reborn, tugs at his blonde hair, eyes wild, "The criminal el— why are we even having this discussion?!"

"Hm? Isn't it obvious? A tutor must assess their student's critical thinking skills." Among other things.

"T-tutor?!"

"I dislike having to repeat myself. It's annoying." She tilts her head just so, eyes shadowed by the brim of her fedora, "I am Reborn, the World's Greatest Hitman. As of today, I am also your live-in tutor. You are going to be a superlative Chiavarone Decimo." Translation: welcome to your own personal hell.

"My l-l-live-in... what?"

Reborn moves swiftly and, suddenly, there is a weight on Dino's shoulder. "No need to worry." She 'reassures' the youth, patting his cheek in a patronizing manner. "I'm a specialist."

"WHAT?!"

Well, she thinks with a sadistic smile, Tutoring 'Walking Disaster Dino' will be highly entertaining. Dino, turning his head, catches the expression and quails under her gaze. Hm. That nickname doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. I'll need to think of something shorter.

She resists the urge to chuckle evilly; it will only sound like a giggle anyway.


So instead of this being the Chiavarone Arc, this somehow became the Xanxus Arc, with a short foray into Dino-land at the very end...

Goddamit, Xanxus! Why must you keep screwing with my plot?! Bloody, stubborn, impossible— Grrr! Nearly made a liar out of me. Incorrigible bastard. I actually made it to 15k words before making the executive decision to split this chapter into two. So... Hopefully the wait won't be too long for part five?

Anyway. If anyone wants to argue the validity of Reborn becoming Xanxus' Sun, I point to the fact that the Varia boss was strong enough to pull Viper into his orbit in KHR canon, so from the standpoint of him having the requisite power/purity of Flame, it's entirely reasonable. Feel free to PM me if you want to debate the validity of my Muses' decision. (Like I have a say in where the plot is going!)