I know it's been a long while since my last update. For those who are still reading this Fic, I love you more than you'll ever care to imagine.

Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn! does not belong to me

Chapter 3

13 January 2015
Dionysus' Towers, Italy. 10:00 PM

Too fast. Everything was going far too fast. Or so Haru felt that way as she realized that she was now miles and oceans away from Japan.

It was already dark when they arrived in Italy. Somehow they got through everything without any injuries. No documents, no papers, no IDs—others would've thought it impossible. Even M. Cervali took a moment to sigh in relief. There was an equal chance between success and failure regarding their travel and they were merely lucky enough to have the deciding factor on their side: Ishmael Miura.

Looking at the person in front of her, Haru no longer saw the father who laughed and smiled at the simplest antics of his daughter. He talked to M. Cervali a lot in French, and to others in a number of languages, Haru wasn't aware he was fluent in. She swore most of those men were influential people, if not rich or powerful. She felt herself stiffen at the thought. It came to her only lately, how little she knew of her father. Aside from his relationship with his mother, aside from being a single dad all throughout these years, who was he, really? It occurred to her during their flight from Namimori to Venice, that she really knew nothing of her father's past. Who was he before he became a university professor? Who was he before he married her mother? All was a mystery for the young Miura.

They were in one of the most expensive hotels in Italy now—carpeted floors, paneled walls and all that, but she knew it was all for show. It didn't take her a while to notice the extra care and respect the employees gave them. How at every step, she seemed to be surrounded by guards who would be more than willing to risk their lives for her. She hoped it was all her imagination though. She didn't know how she'd feel if the time ever called for someone to sacrifice a life for her sake.

"Ms. Miura, would you care for a cup of coffee?"

Cervali seemed to be committed in the idea of gaining her trust. She didn't mind the extra attention—especially if they were coming from someone who seemed to know much about her father. Maybe, he was the one who could tell her once and for all who Ishmael Miura was.

"No, but thank you."

They were in a separate table. Her father was talking to some other strangers dressed in uniform suits. Business, Cervali said, but she knew better than to believe that after what she'd been through. Just in front of her and yet paces away, her father was seated. He talked with a tone of authority as if he had been under the same circumstances many times before.

"It seems like my father is famous here in Venice."

"Relatively, perhaps." Cervali smiled and offered a small plate of biscuits to compensate for the refused drink. "You should see him in Paris."

"Was my father an even bigger celebrity there?" She chuckled before taking a biscuit.

"You can put it like that. He's well respected in several academies," Cervali said with a dry laugh of his own. "He's a very private person and rarely entertains people he has little affinities with. Everyone who visited and talked with your father was actually some very close friends of ours in our old days."

"Old days?"

"Ahh. What I meant was back when your father wasn't still settled in Japan." Cervali smiled and placed the tip of his thumb on his chin. "Back when you were still a child. You used to see a lot of them back when you were a young girl. Do you still remember?"

Haru shook her head. "Sorry."

"A shame. I remember you quite clearly though. And I know they do as well, though they aren't vocal about it. Don't you find it strange at times, to have French as a second language yet never having been to France at all?" Haru did wonder why she found French the easiest to understand during her teacher's lectures. "You've been in France, Miss Miura. Several times, actually. You and your mother used to spend warm summers in Paris. During those times, you even used to call me uncle."

"Uncle?"

"You might find it hard to believe but I was a very close family friend." Cervali looked at her with a genuine smile. "I can be trusted, Miss Miura. So please, do not ever hesitate to ask for my help."

Haru nodded. From the corner of her eye, Haru saw the slight look of pain and regret of M. Cervali as she averted her gaze from him. The truth. She wanted to focus in knowing the truth, yet whenever the chance presents itself, she falters. Again and again.

It took a while before she and her father were left in the suite. Her room was just beside his, and it was connected through a passage in case there were…emergencies. M. Cervali whispered to Ishmael, "You are a very selfish man, Ishmael. Miss Miura no longer remembers me."

Ishmael stood up. "She doesn't remember a lot of things, Henry."

Cervali forced a smile but his features looked morose and exhausted. "But she will soon, right? You will not keep her in the dark any longer, right?"

Ishmael took a deep breath, and glanced at his daughter. Cervali didn't wait for his reply but pressed his friend's shoulder with all implied meaning.

"Dad?"

They were alone now. Silent, alone and without any distractions. Ishmael hesitated. Perhaps, another guest wouldn't hurt? No. That wouldn't be right. It was already unfair for Haru to come all this way connecting all the distant dots together. Trying her best to make some sense of their situation. Forced in the company of strangers, in a place she was barely acquainted with, he owed the truth to her.

"Haru," Ishmael started in French. He rarely spoke to her in that language. Only when he had something important to tell her. Haru shivered. "I need you to hear me out, okay? I have a lot of explaining to do," he said with a dry laugh.

"Alright," she said reluctantly.

"You need to trust me, okay?" Ishmael smiled weakly. "I'm going to say a lot of unbelievable things. Some of them might change the way you think of me, but always keep in mind that I will always be your father and I love you, alright?"

Haru nodded not really knowing how else to reply. Ishmael was now sitting directly in front of his daughter. It was now or never. Whatever happened tomorrow, he knew he was no longer in control. Fate was an abominable force, but merciful nonetheless. He was given the time to explain to her daughter everything. Hopefully, he would be forgiven. It was only ten PM. They have more than enough time.

"Haru, I need to tell you the story of my past."

14 January 2015
Venice, Italy. 9:15 AM

Lal Mirch respected laws.

In real life, nothing and no one will be fair and unless a person understands the consequences of living secluded and playing safe, he or she will have to face life like an ignorant child if not a complete simpleton.

She reminded her soldiers that were men of the military and not of refinement. May the enemy be a child, a woman or an elderly, once they were in the field of battle, and they were given orders to shoot, they were to follow. They were trained and trusted for a certain reason. Others might think that the greatest aspect of a great army would be its soldiers' skill, but in truth, it was not. It was their obedience.

She loathed and loved her occupation for this reason. She hated abusive employers who would blind their own men for selfish business, and she respected the Vongola for being different. Though they might keep secrets from her, she knew it was all for the good of the famiglia.

But this—this was truly unfair.

And though she lived twice the normal lifespan of a human, she couldn't help but feel how extraordinarily cruel fate was with them.

Perhaps, if she was facing this alone she might've thought differently. Perhaps, if Hayato Gokudera wasn't with her right now, she could've dealt with this with the same attitude and determination as the former general of COMBUSIN.

"Haruka Fuentes was a very special woman. I hope her daughter is far from harm."

"Rest assured, we will deliver her safely, The Ninth."

"Please do. I long to hear her sing. It will be like hearing Haruka, I'm sure."

A part of her still wondered if this was all real.

Did she really have that conversation with The Ninth? Maybe, she was just imagining. Maybe in a few more seconds, she'd wake up from this nightmare. She pinched herself, and no, she didn't wake up inside her room sweating at the intensity of a haunting dream. She was still inside a Vongola-owned limousine with Hayato Gokudera. She shifted in her seat, and turned towards the silenced teenager. Ever since their encounter with the Elven, Gokudera seemed to have grown more silent. But then, she really couldn't blame him. Things had been bloody…

"Gokudera."

"Hn?"

"Are you alright?" It would be useless to deny her concern. These kids were like family to her. Gokudera was no one different. "If you'd prefer, you can stay here in the car," They were riding a limo but what was the point of clarifying it? "Or—umm—maybe you want to stop by an allied shop? Go ahead and…restock our supplies?"

She couldn't believe herself. She was stuttering! A blush was creeping under her cheeks. The whole notion of worrying was a very wrong thing to begin with! What was she thinking anyway? She was Lal! A soldier, a commander, a general even in her own right! She made a mental note not to play the role of mother hen the next time she even considered sentimentality.

"Tch." He clicked his tongue and turned away from her. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand, and viewed the streets of Venice at nine-fifteen in the morning. "I'd rather go with you and see the stupid woman already."

She closed her eyes, and took a sharp inhale of a breath. Well, at least she gave him an option to escape while there was still time. She pinched herself harder this time. Maybe, just maybe, she'd wake up from this nightmare.

14 January 2015
Vongola HQ, Italy. 8:45 AM

"Who are we escorting, again?" Gokudera asked as he straightened the collar of his dress shirt. He wasn't wearing a coat so it still looked relatively casual from the usual formal attire of the Vongola.

"The daughter of a lady after my own heart and her father." The Ninth smiled from his reclined position in the bed, still sore and wounded, but recovering very nicely as the physician had told them. "Please pay extra attention to her. I've heard she's quite a stubborn spirit from Iemitsu."

"We'll do what we can." Lal Mirch nodded with Hayato. "Is there anything we need to know about her or her father?"

"Hmmm…Well, I remember from our encounter, not so many months ago, that she has quite the temper but I'm sure you'll get around." Timeteo laughed earnestly not letting his current condition wash away his humor. "You have better explain yourselves nicely to her father though. That man is perhaps one of the most cunning Parisian mafiasos that I know of. Once you get him to trust you though, you can count on him till the end of time."

"So you still haven't met him, The Ninth?" Lal found that hard to believe.

"Not personally to say the least. He's been gone from the world of mafia for more than ten years now but his name is still very well-known. I shared a brief correspondence with him shortly after Haruka's death, but it never went passed the usual exchange of sympathies. We're fortunate that we're allied with the Millefiore now because of Tsuna. Innocenti was the one who pursued him, I think."

"Innocenti?"

"They use pseudonyms to hide their identities. They are still intellectuals at heart regardless of what they do. Having ties with the underground forces would be frowned upon by their academia." Timeteo sighed and contemplated. "What was his name again—it's in the tip of my tongue—Hmm—No—Wait a second, it's here—Ah! Monsier Henry Cervali!"

Lal Mirch looked over Gokudera who seemed to have registered that name in his memory. "The Henry Cervali?" His eyes were wide open as he asked. "He was the one who introduced a new concept about the Butterfly theory." He eyed Lal in enthusiasm greatly showing off his appreciation in the academic community. "He spent years in his research! Oh boy, this is sweet maybe his friend can introduce me to him!"

"Don't get your hopes up, Hayato." The Ninth added with a chuckle. "Koenig isn't someone who'll easily divulge his friend's privacy."

"So we're meeting up with a Mr. Koenig?"

"Yes." The Ninth stopped for a moment, but then quickly added, "But you may also refer to him as Mr. Miura."

The shock in Gokudera's expression was apparent. Lal, not wanting to risk his tendency of colorful languages when surprised, quickly interjected, "Mr. Miura?" Timoteo nodded. "We're really sorry for prolonging this conversation longer than you expected, The Ninth—but we have a friend from Japan. Her name is Haru—Haru Miura, is there a possibility of her being related to him?"

"You're already acquainted with his daughter?" Timoteo asked in genuine surprise.

"No, The Ninth. It's impossible, Lal. It must've been a coincidence," Gokudera said crossing both his arms.

"Does she happen to have brown hair and brown eyes? Has a fondness for costumes—is very outgoing and cheerful?"

"The Ninth—" Lal Mirch trailed upon seeing the storm guardian paled. "You've met her?"

"Seen her is the more accurate term," the elder man sighed. "Well then, this will get complicated. Should I assume the others know her as well?"

"She's part of their group," Lal Mirch hesitated before asking. "Does she know about her father's affiliation with the mafia?"

"Basing from her personality, one can assume that she's unaware of her father's past." Timoteo looked at the both of them in worry. "I'm truly sorry for putting you through this but as you know there are only a few people who aren't badly wounded and can be trusted for this assignment."

"We won't disappoint you, The Ninth." The excitement and curiosity from the earlier Gokudera were all gone—something untraceable and unreadable took its place in his expression.

"Her mother was a very talented singer in one of the Vongola-owned bars here in Italy. That was where she met Haru's father." Timoteo stopped for a while and averted his gaze from them. "She was shot under the orders of the Elven famiglia. I'm not exactly acquainted with their story but I'm positively sure, she knew nothing of her husband's dealings with the mafia," He exhaled loudly before facing them again. "Be gentle with her. I'm not exactly sure how much Ms. Miura knows about her father."

"We will," Lal Mirch nodded at Gokudera. The both of them bowed. "We'll be on our way, The Ninth."

14 January 2015
Dionysus' Towers, Italy. 1:00 AM

The reaction that Haru envisioned in her mind was never made into a reality. Not a single tear ran down from her face as her father narrated his life as the fabled "Koenig" who eventually fell in love with Haruka Fuentes—a half-Japenese and half-Filipina singer. Her father had never been much of a romantic. Neither her mother nor marriage could change that in him. The story was finely told—simple with no embellishments, nothing less and certainly nothing more. After finishing the story of his past, Ishmael Miura could do nothing but look straight back to Haru, hoping that he wouldn't be hated from hiding the truth from her for all these years. She surprised him by getting up from her side across the couch to sit next to him. She pecked him lightly on the cheek, and told him that nothing changed and she loved him all the same.

Of course, the usual response from a father with a teenager daughter was to cry.

It was a little funny now that she remembered it. Unconsciously, she smiled to herself before tucking her toes inside the space between the couch and its armrest. Her father had been asleep for an hour and half now, and to his knowledge she's been asleep for two. Her father was a former advisor of the Millefiore family while her mother was a great favorite of Don Timoteo. Their romance started and ended inside the world of mafia and her mother never even knew. That pulled some strings inside of her and she couldn't help but wonder why her father insisted on keeping that part of himself hidden from his wife.

Maybe, that was why he told her the truth now. Having learnt from the mistakes of the past—her father didn't want to let it happen again. Haru couldn't blame him. From the way that he spoke of her mother, her dad still seemed to be as in love today as he was ten years ago. She was gone now because of the Elven famiglia, and that was the part where things just didn't make any sense. Haru mourned for the lost of her mother since childhood. The fact that she was killed didn't help Haru recover.

If there was anything, Haru wanted to shoot those men who murdered her mother deep in their graves but of course, her father didn't need to know that.

Ishmael hadn't been merciful though. He made sure there wouldn't be a body to bury once he was done with them but of course, Haru didn't need to know that.

Fate had exhausted her emotions. Life had taken advantage of her feelings. Thankfully, her father hadn't asked her to divulge her own tales of mischief with the Vongola's next generation. How could she possibly explain that the innocent naïve Haru had been obliterated from this world without her father cursing those who had inevitably dragged her to be what she was now?

Strangely, she didn't blame Tsuna or the others. Now that she knew her father's past, she realized that it was only a matter of time before she was hauled in the world of mafia as well. Whether or not she met the others, her path would ultimately lead to the same road she was walking on right now. It was inevitable. A part of her always knew her eccentricity.

Her fluency in French, English and Japanese, her knowledge in German and Chinese (she was supposed to surprise her father with this one). Her talents in gymnastics, and her advanced courses in thermodynamics and quantum mechanics—she should've known better than to think she was like the others. She spent the past months worrying how to turn her life back to normal when it never really was in the first place. It was all a lie—a great big beautiful lie that was now slowly burning to ashes before her eyes.

And oddly, she didn't mind.

Replies to Reviews:

Gg: Thanks for reading and for leaving a review. Sadly, I'm not fluent in your language. I didn't understand your review but still, thanks.
Iwha: Yes, I'm Filipino. I didn't go much into the details but what do you think? Should I leave as it is or should I gradually tell the tragedy that befell Haruka Fuentes? I'm hoping to hear from you. J
To an Unnamed Guest for Chapter 1: Thank you for being frank with me. Hopefully, I'd be able to improve as the series progressed. I'll work on my tenses.
To an Unnamed Guest for Chapter 2: You actually gave me the idea for this chapter. Too fast. Hectic. Etc. I'll do my best with the story's pacing.