Reborn is many things. Brilliant and ruthless, polite and utterly charming. Although, most who have seen or interacted with him could tell you that.

The way he talks, dresses and even the way his black eyes glitter, a look of knowing deep within them, those things lead to rumors and tell him the way others see him.

The man! He can- he can read minds!

Reborn encourages the masses to do so, they all help to make his legend grow. It's not mind reading, really. It's a bastardized form of Legilimency, allowing him to pick up surface thoughts. Nothing deep and revealing, but that coupled with how he can see their thoughts painted so clearly on their faces and in every single movement of their bodies? He can read people via body language and tone alone. That's a skill he has honed into a considerable asset, and with someone's surface thoughts? Well, there's a lot he can find out.

Some say he is arrogant, he claims confidence, but doesn't deny the accusation. He is a dark perfection with soft and hard lines, a dangerous and sensual air about him. Reborn is arrogant, confident, dangerous, but while he prides himself on every single one of his skills, there is one he thinks triumphs over the rest.

It is his ability to observe. To notice and remember.

From learning languages or complicated equations to how he handles his weapons, from the bullets to his Flames, Reborn knows exactly what he can do and how others around him react to what he can do. He's learned to read people as easy as a book and he is confident in that ability of his.

So when Skull's face crumples into a haunted sorrow and tears began to gather in his eyes, Reborn was fully prepared for the run-away-to-the-circus-for-some-unimportant-reason story. The lackey probably grew up in an orphanage or was the oldest of several children, either way, he is only paying attention to ease his idle curiosity. So when Lal silences Colonello, prompting Skull to answer he says through his tears, even as his face smooths out and goes blank-

(Reborn has a moment where the dread slides up his spine-)

"I was a soldier,"

Reborn's casual nauchlant sprawl in his chair ends as world came to an abrupt halt. His easy, relaxed smirk slides right off his face and he snaps to attention, as his feet hit the floor and his eyes glue themselves to Skull's face. Something is clenching painfully in his gut. He knows the stuntman isn't lying, can't be lying, because Reborn sees lies just as easily as he sees people and everything in him is screaming, why didn't I see this?

For an instant, his doubts every single things he's seen in Skull, but just as quick his world reaffirms and he nails his gaze to Skull's body. He opens his mind, reaching for his lackey's and it's- it's different. It's as if he's taken off a pair of sunglasses or stepped through a door. Everything is clear. He can see it now. There's a battlefield in his lackey's mind, full of screaming, and bursts of lights and explosions-

Reborn forces his mind away, reaching up to harshly yank his fedora down over his eyes. There is too much chaos in Skull's brain and it hurts. He closes that part of himself off, and blinks. He sees the shadows in Skull's eyes and the faint bruises under them (nightmares), sees it in the tense line of his shoulders (pulled up and defensive) and a sudden thought strikes him.

Never has any of them, himself included, ever seen any of Skull's skin, save for face, his feet and occasionally his fingers.

He hides his scars.

Horror is dawning in the hitman and he stills, shutting out outside distractions to focus on Skull's words and see the proof in so many things he missed for thirty-three damn years.

And Skull ignores him (Reborn-sempai!), ignores them all and talks about his early child- (he hasn't had a childhood) his early life, about his cupboard (abuse, neglect, emotional and physical - starvation?), and Reborn can see it all now.

Never once did Skull ever flinch away from his kicks, his punches, anything except occasionally what he threw or shot at him. It's like a sharp kick to his gut, the sudden stop of his breath, that feeling that's screaming inside him, that just got worse because he knows soldiers and a part of his brain has started cataloging information he has previously ignored.

Survivor's guilt. Disassociation with reality. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Depression. Self-esteem issues...no, rather a lack of value placed on his own life. A resigned approach to violence. Martyr complex.

That was how Skull could keep up this act, keeping in character so thoroughly and long-lasting as he played the idiot. He wasn't associating the current events around him as reality that was occurring that moment and happening to him. That was why Skull had never touched a gun, never showed resistance and always fought hand-to-hand or with his Flames or with his animal companion.

And Skull just continued to speak of lies and subtle manipulations (Dumbledore - a figure in authority who carefully manipulated events and withheld information…), of death and torture as if it was nothing. Of running to survive from a hostile government as a teenager, being asked to be a child's godfather after he grew up with zero parental love or guidance, basically raising himself, then raising others to survive a damn war. As a child, barely able to be called an adult (trust issues, focused specifically on adult in positions of authority).

And then he said the mad man's name.

Voldemort.

Reborn almost shattered the table from the force of his hand clenching, but he forced himself to be still.

Voldemort. As in the half-way immortal wizard that all of Great Britain was too scared to say his name much less raise a single wand against?

And still he spoke of the castle, what he called home (Hogwarts) falling down and the bodies of children he had trained. Of the death and destruction of everything he had fought so hard to keep, doing the best he could have done with almost nothing.

Reborn, if he were a lesser mortal, would have wept when he realized just exactly what the boy (not a boy, only a man in a child's body) he had once thought of as his lackey was speaking of. What he was saying.

Skull DeMort was telling them that he was Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Man-Who-Conquered.

As in survived the killing curse.

Twice.

Reborn was not as informed into the magical world as Viper was, but everyone who was anyone knew of the story of Harry James Potter. When he had disappeared all those years ago, one Luna Lovegood had published the only Harry Potter article that provided answers. Answers of Horcruxes and basilisks, Voldemort with school children, a teacher torturing said schoolchildren under the guise of detention (Ministry-approved, attempting to silence words of Voldemort's return). Lovegood had pointed out all those who called Potter a liar, an attention seeking brat; those that demonized him and believed everything written in The Daily Prophet had never left the safety of their home to go out and fight a war.

It was the children that did that.

Most hadn't even graduated from Hogwarts. She then wrote the single most damning piece explaining just what exactly the Boy-Who-Lived sacrificed for everyone when she described how Harry Potter walked into the Forbidden Forest on the ground of Hogwarts and faced in death in order to spare the lives of those that remained behind to fight with him. Horcruxes were mentioned in vivid details, only sparing the actual method on how to make them.

Magical Britain was horrified.

Magical Everywhere-Else? Really, really angry.

Hell, even Reborn had been infuriated because the Ministry of Magic in Britain had forced children to fight a war for their country while said country was calling them traitors and liars and attempting to kill them, all the while denying the reemergence of the man who had began the first Blood War in the 70ties.

When Skull speaks of a godson, he remembers the day he told their Cloud, his Cloud that he wasn't fit to raise a child. Told him he should have been glad he had no one to ruin. He doesn't flinch and he doesn't cringe. But, oh, he wants to. To show a bit of weakness to the b- to the man spilling his secrets. (With remarkable ease and brightly dulled eyes…)

So when the Cloud stood up and turned around and said,

"And that is the life story of Skull DeMort, the Lackey, the ignorant and spineless coward, the weakest of the Arcobaleno."

The Sun felt as if he'd been punched in the gut at his words thrown back in his face so casually, the look on his face speaking of resigned acceptance and bitterness.

Despite his stillness, the lack of emotions on his own face and the fact that he was sitting the farthest away, Reborn was the first one to reach Skull when he collapsed to the ground.

"I was a soldier."

Fon blinked. And quickly glanced down to his hot cup of soothing tea still steaming in his hand. He blinked again, his attention snapping back to the purple-haired youth's as the words began to make sense to him again.

"I was eleven when I first killed someone. Dumbledore made sure he told me nothing about why, only it was gonna happen anyway, good job, glad you woke up, keep your silence, child and I'll keep mine. Bastard."

Fon remembers I-Pin, on the day he found her. Alone and covered in blood. Hadn't she said something like that too? Something about people telling her it was a good thing she had killed someone?

He felt sick.

With a delicate 'click', Fon set down his teacup and ignored the way every word Skull added to his already growing horror story, his Flames started leaping and swirling and demanding release.

"...if it weren't for their mother, I'd starved that time for sure.'"

"… he was my only living family member left 'til Bellatrix killed him. Lovely thing that, family. Just because they thought I was a child and adults know better than children, don't they?"

Fon remembers. He remembers very well in the Triads when adults didn't believe children and people died. He remembers those feelings and the dead, how could he even begin to forget that? He looks at Skull again and sees the blankness in his gaze even as he still shows emotions so clearly on his face.

"They threw us in the dungeon and we stayed there, listening to Hermione's screams for what seemed like hours. And then, when they stopped, they brought in Ron. He was screaming. Screaming as they dragged him away, screaming as he saw what they did to 'Mione. He loved her, not like Lavender, but all three of us were family, and everyone knew it. He stopped screaming when they started on him though. Didn't make a sound, apart from the Crucios."

The Storm remembers that, remembers hearing people he cared about scream but he could do nothing. That was when he found his Flames. That day his calm revealed a storm. Even though he killed every single last person who hurt his own, the memories still lingered.

When the Cloud lifts his so very blank eyes to not-look at Reborn and speaks in a soft tone of the very last link the man has to family asking him to be a godfather to his son, Fon closes his eyes and wishes he could cry. Instead he simply breathes and let's Skull's words wash through him. Then Yuni speaks, prodding gently what happened and he resists the urge to cover his ears. It's too late anyways.

"I stepped over the bodies of my friends and the faces of people I knew and people I had promised I would end this, and I walked straight to my death. Dumbledore raised a martyr after all. Tom lied, of course, but it didn't matter in the end. Turns out I was bloody immortal."

Fon remembers that, too. The Triads were unforgiving so it wasn't uncommon that you stepped over the bodies of people you knew. It's why he left as soon as he could, became strong so no one could drag him back. So the Triads couldn't hold onto him anymore. And here is Skull, still looking so much like the boy he must have been, opening old wounds and bringing up memories that make his heart ache.

When the word 'suicide' falls so naturally and without inflection from their Cloud's mouth, Fon half wishes he didn't know. He didn't contribute to Skull's abuse by Reborn and Colonello. He didn't order him around and put him down, but he didn't stop it either. He drank tea with him sometimes. In the early morning hours and in silence. Fon said nothing.

So the moment as Skull drops to the floor, Reborn is up and moving and he's not far behind.

Viper has always had a little black book dedicated to his fellow Arcobaleno. Blackmail is useful after all. It holds everything he knows about all of them. From the rumors and the whispers, to what they say themselves.

Reborn's book is the longest and least detailed, save for his appearance and his normal behavior.

Skull's? Skull's book was covered in writing for the first five pages before Viper just stopped. There was no reason to keep blackmail on someone you simply had to glare and order to do something for you.

Viper was severely regretting that right now as he listened in disbelief as Skull spoke of abuse, a teacher he killed, of adults he couldn't trust and for an instant, he was angry. Of course, this changed dramatically when the name, 'Voldemort' fell casually from his lips.

He flinched.

Viper couldn't help it.

The child of a noble and ancient family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, born to two purebloods…as a squib. His blood, his pure blood, was lacking and he remembers that one time before his 'family' knew of his condition, that man brought the Dark Lord to his house. He had been fearless after meeting him. There couldn't be anything in this world that would scare him, save being poisoned, more than that man reeking of Dark Magic, of blood and darkness, filling the air with the smell of death.

Viper remembers when the Boy-Who-Lived survived Avada Kedavra and he didn't have to run or hide anymore. He wept that night, that Halloween night, tears of relief and happiness. He remembers even better when The Daily Prophet proclaimed Harry James Potter a 'lying, attention seeking brat' because he claimed Voldemort had come back to life, had killed Cedric Diggory and was going to start the Blood War all over again.

He changed her name to Viper and moved to muggle Paris, using his beautiful Mist Flames to hide all traces of her magic that appeared after her discovery of said Flames. Two years later when he heard Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord, this time forever, he didn't cry. Rather he celebrated. He cast off her cowl and cloak, donned a dress, did her hair and went out.

Viper had the newspaper clippings from decades ago saying the Dark Lord was dead. He has both, actually. He knows perfectly well, if it wasn't for Potter, they would have come for him. And he would have died no matter how strong he got. Oh, sure, it would have taken time, he would definitely take some with him, but even he couldn't stand against another of Black blood. Bellatrix was insane enough to not care about silly things like family. Especially those that did not possess the right of magic.

(especially those who denied being female one day and denied being male the next)

To hear Skull, the weakest Arcobaleno, actually say the Dark Lord's name, without flinching, was almost humiliating. Until he began to understand what he was saying. What he was talking about.

Viper's eyes widened unseen under cloth as his mouth fell open in shock and horror with a tinge of awe.

It couldn't be. It can't be. It's impossible.

Viper was mouthing denials in every language he could think of as he stared at Skull DeMort.

Godric Gryffindor

Slytherin.

Cedric.

Remus.

Gringotts

Bill. Fleur.

'Mione, short for Hermione.

Ron.

Draco.

Bellatrix.

Sirius Black.

Snape.

Dumbledore.

Death Eaters.

Proof. Undeniable proof.

So when Skull stood up and fall right back down, Viper was left sitting there as the rest of his Arcobaleno compatriots leapt up, straight to him. He couldn't understand how they could do that. Skull was- Skull was…

He couldn't finish that sentence.

Verde is a man of science. He doesn't believe in anything or anyone, not in heaven or hell, reincarnation or gods and goddesses. He believes, he has to when it's right in front of his face, in Flames. But he wants to know how they come about, so he studies them. And he studies other Flames and invents and learns things that make him happy or frustrated. But he's a scientist.

So when an arrogant child with dyed hair and colored contacts sits down at the table with other noteworthy people, including himself, and announces he is the 'Great Immortal Skull-sama, that even Death hates!' Verde resists the urge to kidnap him and study his Flames. Because obviously his Flames give him great durability and accelerates his healing to somewhere around days instead of weeks and months.

Before he gets his chance, Skull somehow gets a hold of a contract stating that Verde will never touch him or take samples for Flames or blood etc. etc., unless Skull gives his permission willingly, that is miraculously signed and sealed with his signature and his Flames. It is a very detailed contract. He is shocked when he tests the Flames and the hand writing because he really doesn't remember signing this at all.

So he just levels a glare at the child, ignoring the strangely solemn and formal 'my apologies' the Cloud murmured to him and stalks out, vowing to never touch said Cloud even if he were to beg.

Not even when Skull is bleeding and injured does Verde lift a finger. Not even when he finds him tucked away in a corner smelling strongly of metal and sticky sweetness. He may have a rivalry/hatred for Reborn, that arrogant hitman, but it's Skull that has his disdain and hostility.

So when he realizes with a start that Skull was a soldier, a child soldier, he suddenly understands.

What he doesn't understand is the vague feeling of guilt creeping into his stomach.

No, actually he understands that, but he really doesn't want to think about it.

He doesn't think of those times that Skull was bleeding because of protecting him and as he walked away leaving him on the floor. He doesn't want to think about those times he send prototypes after the 'Immortal' Skull and waiting and watching in glee as the Cloud comes back every time as if nothing has happened.

Verde is a scientist. His morals are screwed and he knows that very well.

But he respects soldiers, because a soldier once showed him something he still treasures to this day. Verde makes prosthetics and weapons for soldiers. He makes armor and vests and better guns, better equipment and he does it for soldiers.

Skull was a child soldier.

Skull is a soldier.

Verde feels every single analysis, every single bit of data and research into Skull, just as suddenly as his words, become outdated. Flawed and incorrect. Useless and lies.

His entire perspective into Skull shifts and settles into place and he understand now.

Purple armor, that is what his suit is. His gloved hands, the helmet he was rarely see without, the make-up so thickly layered and Skull is a soldier.

Verde isn't one to offer information of his personal life, what very little there is and he would never speak of his early years so there isn't anyone who knows about his dedication to the care of veterans and damaged soldiers, regardless of what country.

When Skull collapses, Verde has already run through every emotional and mental illness, every trauma-induced behavior, bodily reactions and times he's seen Skull anything but awake and he comes to a very grim conclusion.

So he doesn't complain when he's roped into helping with the Cloud. He doesn't complain as they drive back to their house. He doesn't say anything as they all exchange glances and understand that they can see what's under Skull's clothing.

Later, he'll wish he had complained. Later, when he feels guilty because Skull was soldier who is so clearly damaged.

Lal Mirch is a soldier. A very specific type of soldier, but still a soldier. It was her career, what she wanted to do, what she choose. It was her dream, where she fit in, where she belonged. It was natural and she loved it.

Skull was a child. A boy, barely on the cusp of manhood and he claimed to be a soldier. Lal had to stop herself from shouting 'bullshit!' at the boy when he spoke those words.

She's seen lots of soldiers. Broken, shattered, young and old and everything in-between. She's never seen one like Skull. Well, she's seen something close to what Skull is, but he cannot be a soldier at such a young age. They do not accept children into the Armed Forces and he quite clearly spoke of 'relatives' and 'school' and other normal people, so he couldn't have been from any country that did allow children into the military.

His English is tinted with a British accent.

But then she sees Viper's reaction to the French name and she sees Reborn's lack of reaction and that's always ten times worse and she understands it's something they know about and they're horrified. She hasn't seen Viper show that much emotion since the Curse originally came on them. She sees Fon and that look on his face speaks of understanding that tugs at her heart and the way Verde looks almost guilty. She doesn't look at Colonello, doesn't dare. Colonello is an all-time big brother figure and the Rain has overprotective, violent tendencies. Skull isn't in the little brother category, but he's a fellow soldier and Colonello is older and they were Rain and Cloud in the same set, under the same Sky, so she doesn't look at the blond soldier.

She's still not looking at him when Skull is on the ground and she's pressing a damp cloth to his flushed cheeks and she doesn't glance at him when they start to unzip his zippers to his jacket.

Soon, when they carefully pull it off and meaningful silence, heavy and weighed falls on them, she doesn't think to not look at him because she's too busy staring at Skull's chest. His arms. His gloves are off, her hands are steady as they wipe away smeared makeup and peel the tape back to reveal even more scars.

So many scars, everywhere. From burns, knives, wire, chains, and God only knows what else and Lal ignores the burning in her eyes and carefully peels off his undershirt, stifling a gasp at the ones littering over vital and fatal areas. They all clearly remember when their Cloud has shouted so obnoxiously, in that stupidly high-pitched voice, 'the Immortal Skull-sama that even Death hates!'.

These scars are of torture and frenzied dashes through barbed wire etched on his skin. There are pits of carved out holes and long deliberate slices and Lal feels sick. She doesn't even what to think about that brand on his chest. She wants to slaughter every single person that did this to Skull. She is going to slaughter everyone that had a hand in this.

Skull may be immortal and he may heal from everything, but the scars remain, telling a story far more detailed than that basic outline he spat out drunkenly at the bar. Colonello's hands reach under his body, lifting it with just a little too much ease and Lal hears his footsteps towards Skull's room. She's still crouched on the floor and still not looking at Colonello.

He wonders if his hands are shaking. It feels like they're shaking, but as he discreetly glances down, barely glimpsing them in the darkened light of the bar, he sees they're perfectly still. They do not shake even as Skull continues with his word vomit. He doesn't flinch, he knows nothing is showing on his face, he is aware of the fact that Lal isn't looking at him. He concentrating on breathing and listening and it takes everything in his words to stay still, keep still because Skull is still speaking.

He hears what the Cloud is saying, he understands his words but he can't grasp it because it's so impossible that Skull is a soldier. He can't be. Soldier have reflexes and shadows in their eyes, pride in their weapons and some are so broken, but he can read them all because he's a soldier too. Some are missing limbs and pieces of their sanity and other have destructive coping methods and-

He takes a breath and tried not to break something or someone.

He can hear what Skull isn't saying and he sees the stressed words and bitterangrybroken sarcasm against this 'Dumbledore' and he understands.

Raised in an abusive household, taken to a better place where his is famous and everyone want to shake his hand and then told what his parents died for wasn't enough. Told he must die to save those who care about him for the first time in his life and he can see the manipulations so clearly. A part of him remembers all those things Skull always caught that they threw at him. Remembers how he never dodged kicks or punches, just bullets and knives and how he claimed he had a fear of trees and suburban homes.

When Skull is lying so still and Lal is there, still not looking at him, Colonello knows even though a part of him is numb, he must be radiating Flames because everyone is calm. Not like something like that really matters for people in their profession and of their caliber.

When Skull is curled up so small and vulnerable in the car and Lal still won't look at him, he knows the numbness is fading. When they're taking off his clothes and he sees the scars, he goes to pick him up and she won't look at him and he can't look at her for fear of what he'll see on her face.

When he walks back out, an hour later, after Skull's throw up and he's forced him to drink water and listened to the cries for the dead and screams for someone to 'stop, please stop, not her, I'm the one he wants, just please!' Lal finally looks at him.

There's no condemnation, no accusation or blame in her eyes, and he thinks that's okay because there's enough in his to balance his anger so he doesn't go out and beat someone to death. And so he sits at the table, and wonders how he could have been so blind, so stupid and how none of them ever saw this before.

He doesn't have an answer.

Then again, neither does anyone else.

Yuni saw Skull for what he was when she first met him. Someone broken and tired and trying desperately to pretend he was as he acted. Care-free, a little stupid, but something like determination and strength showed when it was needed. She understood why he pretended to be weak. She understood so very well because before her mother died she pretended to be weak too.

It's so no one asks them to defend others, to protect them. No one asks them to lead the charge or fight the good fight. No one asks them for help, for advice and no one blames them for their mistakes 'cause it's expected.

Then all of a sudden, Yuni had to be strong, be brave, lead the others and carry their lives on her shoulders. She had to decided to follow through even if people she cared about died for the good of the whole Earth. She had to accept death and she couldn't be a child, she couldn't be weak. She had to support those that should have been supporting her and lead those that should have been leading her.

Yuni saw that mark clearly on Skull.

She never made fun of him or called him names. She was kind to him and smiled when she felt he was sad and sat next to him in silence when she wanted to rest. Still, he never came to her when he needed someone. He simply pretended he needed no one at all. Her heart ached because she could not betray the fragile trust he had in her by revealing his closely guarded secrets.

That is, until the curse was broken and there was nothing to stop him from leaving, from breaking and shattering. It was so very easy to slip some Veritaserum into Skull's drink and have everyone ask questions of each other. It was so easy to ensure he would tell them everything, to make sure that everyone could understand that their Cloud, their strong, strong, brave Cloud was so broken and they were hurting him. She didn't know his secrets were so deep or so bloody. She had no idea Skull DeMort was once called Harry Potter. She was almost ashamed of herself. Guilt for forcing him to do this, for ignoring his desires to remain hidden and safe. Shame for baring her Skull to the blinded eyes of his fellow Arcobaleno. She thinks this, if it were known what she's done, would be something of a betrayal and she is ashamed, she is sorry...

Right up until the moment when all the Arcobaleno, save Skull, gathered at the table like they did so long ago in another life and she saw they understood too. Yuni smiles to herself, a quiet moment of triumph, in the darkness of the house that her grandmother spent her last days as an adult with her Arcobaleno.

Finally.