That woman he had had on his arm the night before the fatal crime, he remembered her breasts with unblemished clarity. Her face was not so fresh in his memory, nor her ravenous voice as he had sex with her, or even how her body had felt beneath and around him. Her perfect, globule breasts were all he could care to recall of her.
He could, however, remember every trail of tears that rained down that snot-nosed brat's face when he barged into the room, the reflections off of his untainted green eyes, the tone of his voice as he tried to speak through sobs, and even the very way his tiny, tiny body trembled in his cow-print pajamas.
A thing had landed in his room, he had cried. It had been nice at first, as it had uncurled itself from a seed-like ship, asking him if there was any place to hide a stamen, but then two other things had swooped in through his window. They weren't human, he had exclaimed, as the woman beneath him had released a high-pitched scream from having a five-year old voyeur. They had long limbs, and green veins ran throughout their translucent skin; their hair was really petals and they had no faces – there was a head, but no mouth, nose, or eyes. No ears either. They weren't human, he had gone on to repeat himself.
And the two that had later swooped in were angry because they couldn't find a single sheet of paper on Earth. Well, at least not one that fit their criteria, though those had not been the same exact words he had used – being a child with a limited vocabulary and all.
Once he had finished beating Lambo's ass and sending him back to bed – alone – he had gone back to the heavenly breasted woman who had apparently gotten over her shock.
He could detail with unmistakable recollection how Lambo had slammed the door open a second time, nearly two hours later, with a shit-eating grin on his face. The woman – then on top of him after a small break in activities – had groaned in despair and spat some curses at the cow-child that was his younger charge.
Promptly, the beautifully gifted woman had been handed her clothes and told to leave. No, he wouldn't be giving her a ride back home. She was lucky that she was a woman, allowed to leave without harm.
He didn't particularly like it whenever someone outside the family insulted his idiots unless it was for character building reasons – his idiots being Tsuna and Lambo, the character building reasons usually being deadly or soul crushing. But not usually downright degrading.
He had then listened as Lambo had gone on to cheer about how the first thing to come into his room had returned with a really soft sheet of paper – like feathers or flower petals – and that it had let him sign the paper at the bottom. Well, they had only let him sign it because he had been the one to suggest a good hiding spot for that stamen they had – but ssshhhh, don't tell big brother, because that was the place he directed them to.
The bodyguard to the great Vongola family, a powerful Italian influence, stared into his glass of wine with little interest.
The next thing the cow-child had rambled on about was how the things had said that they would have to go back to their planet to finish some sort of rescue operation. And then they would be back.
That shit-eating grin had never left his face.
Reborn gazed into the thick depths of his drink, pondering how widely the child would have smiled had he known that he was going to die the next day. Foreboding, that was what it was. The ability to know that something terrible was going to happen before it ever occurred. If everyone had a sense of foreboding, nothing would ever get done. People would be too scared to get anything done. The world would be a place full of cowards. And had Lambo had foreboding, he would have cried and screamed and begged to stay in the mansion.
And then he would have followed them out anyhow. Because he was an idiot. Because he loved his dad. Because he loved Reborn. And he died somewhere in the middle of them too.
He tilted his head, narrowing his black eyes on his Rolex. It didn't tell him the day, but it suddenly occurred to him, as it had for the past few days, that he had purposely missed the little brat's anniversary. That Iemetsu hadn't missed it, for the first time in years. He recalled Dino saying that Tsuna had told him that Nana wouldn't miss the brat's day of death for anything. Tsuna and Iemetsu had also been reunited in the graveyard. News got around awfully fast.
What a lucky brat… dead for over three years and he still has all the attention he could ever want.
Reborn tipped back the crystalline glass, the wine sliding down his throat like a smooth chill.
He wondered about five-year old devils, dressed like little boys that could actually grow on heartless bodyguards, about older brothers who were most likely still failing his – their – classes, mothers that lost sight of what was important, and things that went bump in the night.
He dragged his mind over the hot coals of the difference between heavily breasted women and heavily breasted women with vicious tongues.
Lastly, as he set the glass aside and stood to his feet, leaving a decent tip on the counter, he thought about how wide 12 feet really was.
Wide enough for a five-year old devil who looked like a little boy to die in, apparently.
Author's Note: Some people have asked for Reborn and then I was kind of stuck on how Mukuro and Lambo actually did meet; so, somewhere in between, I came up with this! And, yes, from whatever planet Mukuro's people are on to Earth, there is about a year and a half distance. A year and a half to get there and a year and a half to get back.
I'm sorry for not answering anyone's review. I appreciate them, dearly! They cue me in on what needs improved (apparently, I was vague about a few things in the last chapter) and raise my spirits! Alas, summer fatigue makes me very withdrawn from talking… If you have any questions, I will reply. Otherwise, please know that I do love all of you and just about everything you have to say, even if I do not personally thank you for your reviews.
Lastly (goodness, this is a lot for someone who doesn't actually want to talk… or type), the Vongola family is loaded; Tsuna's side of the family just decided to live a mostly normal life. Just in case anyone caught onto the few parts that pointed to a wealthy and powerful Vongola family. I very much doubt there will be any inheritance of the Vongola family business in this story, however.