24. A Creation

Word Count: 1002

"I'm entrusting this to you."

Yamamoto stood dumbfounded and incredulity flashing through his eyes. He couldn't decide whether to stare at the blonde man before him or the little bundle of blankets in his arms. He wanted to laugh at the situation just as much as he wanted to scream at the man and slam the door on his face.

Respect for his higher up won him over and he placed a bright smile on his face.

"Why don't you come in, Giotto-san? October air at night's really cold, huh?"

Yamamoto moved out of the entry way and nodded to Giotto as he smiled appreciatively and stepped through the threshold.

Yamamoto's eyes did not leave the shorter man as he closed the door and as Giotto shuddered under the sudden temperature change; he fought to find the words to question the man.

"Why?" was all that could come from his lips.

Giotto sighed, his shoulders sagging, before turning to him, a quiet smile on his face.

"I believed you were the only one capable of this task."

"Why?" Yamamoto's expression became strained. "I mean, there are other people better suited for this job. Gokudera would carry it out if it was you who told-"

"I'm not changing my decision, Yamamoto," Giotto cut it fiercely, though his expression remained calm. "This is an important experiment. If I had thought Gokudera would carry it out the best, then I would have chosen him. If I had thought Hibari could have done it best, then that would have been my choice." Giotto stepped forward, eyes flashing as the only form of emotion visible through his calm.

"I have entrusted you to take care of the first successful human recreation in the world. You must raise him as your own."

Yamamoto tried to glare back, but against Giotto, none had hopes of winning. He faltered, eyes drifting down to the bunch of blankets in Giotto's arms. Giotto stepped forward again, outstretching his arms, presenting the bundle to him.

"He is yours as of today. Here, take a look."

Yamamoto hesitantly took the bundle in his arms, an instinct twisting them appropriately to cradle it, and stared down at it.

His eyes landed on a small round face with brown tuffs of hair framing his face and peeking from the blankets. With eyes closed and lips parted, he looked to be sleeping. It was a thing of perfection, of new life.

If only it didn't have two lines streaming down from the corners of his mouth.

It was a doll.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Yamamoto almost jumped hearing the blond's voice, and saw Giotto peering over his shoulder at the doll in his arms.

"I…Giotto-san, you say this was human recreation. This," he moved it closer to Giotto as if to show what he wasn't seeing, "isn't a human. It's a doll."

Giotto stared at Yamamoto, eyes blank and unreadable before turning to the being in his arms, a gentle fondness washing over his features.

"I don't expect for you to see right away. But this 'doll' is one hundred percent human, Yamamoto."

"How? This-"

"What makes us human is our soul, will, and resolution." Giotto turned his gaze back to Yamamoto, determination brimming in them. "You know the Vongola has been pushing work labor, budget, and sometimes its morals to complete him." Giotto's gaze returned to the boy, softened, as he reached and slowly caressed its cheek. "When I heard his wailing cries the first time he came into the world, I knew right then and there that this was the one. It was incredible, Yamamoto. It was as if he were encased in flames, Sky flames to be exact. His readings were off the charts, his potential is nearly unlimited, and the look in his eyes when he first looked at me…" Giotto laughed, loud and excited, "He had the will to live burning in his eyes, Yamamoto. It still gives me shivers!" His gaze softened again, and his hand stopped its gentle stroke, simply cupping his cheek. "This child here is the Vongola's pride, our precious gem. I am absolutely sure of it."

Yamamoto stared down at the child, trying to imagine a doll emitting such sheer, raw power.

Suddenly, it shifted. Yamamoto's eyes widened.

Eyelids fluttered and a tiny squeak of a moan sounded.

His eyes completely opened and Yamamoto's breath caught in his throat.

The baby had probably had the most beautiful eyes Yamamoto had ever seen.

Round, wide, and an almost exotic golden brown color stared into his eyes, full of this strange wisdom and flickering all around his face as if calculating and assessing him. It was frightening to see such a look on a child; however, Yamamoto smiled, trying to get on the kid's good side.

"Hey, little guy, good morning! How was your nap?"

The golden ochre eyes settled on Yamamoto's and stared unblinkingly. Yamamoto suppressed the urge to shudder at the look of distrust in his eyes and wondered how long this baby was truly alive if he can have a look like that.

The golden orbs slid down and there was more shifting in the sheets. Yamamoto watched, fascinated, as an arm outstretched to his face and then patted the bottom of Yamamoto's chin. Yamamoto stared, eyes wide; the kid patting where his chin scar was. His eyes flickered up into Yamamoto's, looking almost concerned, and Yamamoto felt his heart melt.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, if that's what you're wondering. " Yamamoto gave a soft grin, "I've had people tell me I look so much better than I have in years with this scar! Funny, huh?"

A bubbly laugh rippled from the boy, eyes closed in mirth and cheeks reddening and Yamamoto knew right there that there wasn't any way he could resist this boy.

"Haha! So he's mine huh?" Giotto smiled at Yamamoto, sensing the change in attitude and clamped a hand on his shoulder.

"He's your responsibility."

"Then it's an honour!"