This ridiculously long chapter is dedicated to the people whose patience I've expired through my long updates. Most especially, to xNightDreamerx who's been kind enough to check up on me.

Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn! does not belong to me

Chapter 4

14 January 2015
Dionysus' Towers, Italy. 8:30 AM

When Haru Miura woke up that following morning, the pain on her lower back had been expected. She shifted from her position, and found her father in a seat parallel to where she had spent the night. She struggled—to say the least—to get up. The glow of the early morning sun was upsetting to her eyes. She didn't remember falling asleep. The last of what she recounted from her musings the previous night was the fact that she really had to schedule her poor feet for a pedicure. She sighed softly and shook her head. She shouldn't be given the luxury of thinking over such things—not with the revelations that came that evening before.

"My past was very complicated Haru. I was raised in France by my Japanese parents and educated in Italy through my acquired scholarships."

Haru stirred her tea in silence, noticing the thick Calculus book that lay alone and untouched on the table. Only days ago, she was made to believe that her father was a mere college professor.

"I found myself acquainted with the best minds of Venice, and truly, I had nothing to regret—not then, to say the least. My thirst for cultured entertainment and intellectual conversations were met thoroughly by my companions. Henry, especially, became my closest confidant—my best friend, as how your generation puts it."

It rang loud and clear in Haru's mind how the very same man had assured her that he was indeed a 'friend'. Haru breathed with a heavy heart. Now, she felt villainous for doubting him.

"We were young then—smart and clever probably to a fault." There was a marked change in her father's voice inching close to remorse if not entirely, shame. "We were offered a job that required great discretion. The details weren't discussed, but we were told what to do. It was easy money, you see. The temptation was great and given mine and your Uncle Henry's skills, it was a simple errand."

"What did they tell you to do?" Haru asked meekly knowing that her father shouldn't go through this recitation alone.

"Programming, codes, quite a lot, actually. We were employed because of our talents. We were kept because of our tactfulness." Ishmael brushed his thumb on the heated handle of his coffee mug. "It was complicated, really. Henry and I had our doubts but we never spoke of them aloud. There was a silent pact between us that work should stay in the office—or something like that. I'm no longer sure how those sayings go nowadays." The older Miura felt his palm sweating. He held his coffee mug closer to him, letting the heat distort the wetness that was building on his flesh. "But on with it. We were earning good money, and we were meeting powerful people. We knew we were walking on dangerous waters, but we were too caught up with the wine and money to notice how far we'd really gone. One successful transaction after another—the next thing we knew, we were affiliated with the Millefiore."

Haru had known how powerful the Millefiore famiglia was during their brief stay in the future. It was only recently though had she known how influential the mafia family was. Her father and Monsieur Cervali had spent a great deal of their time in Paris where the Millefiore base was located. The riddle that came along with her father's association with a mafia clan which shouldn't have existed until ten years from the present was answered by a short history lesson.

The two famiglias, namely, the Giglio Neo and Gesso were already very familiar of each other. They had once considered an informal merger through marriage, but such a thought was forsaken when the current boss of the Gesso family fathered a child whom this story would now recall as Byakuran. Regardless, the ties that were built between the two mafia clans held them together as a single entity by both their allies and foes, and though they rarely used the title themselves, to call the members of either family as Millefiore was acceptable.

It was then that Haru realized that Millefiore wasn't merely a product of Byakuran's blind selfishness. On the contrary, it existed before any of them could do anything about it. Byakuran simply made it official what their clans had known for decades. One of Italy's deadliest and one of France's best—the power and influence that came with the ordeal were not trivial matters.

"Haru."

"Hahi?!"

Haru's thoughts were momentarily disturbed by her father's tenor voice. Haru looked up to him, slightly shaken. There was a look in her father's face which showed his disapproval. She was about to apologize for sneaking out of her room to muse on the sofa when all of the sudden, her father threw a rectangular black box to her. She squirmed to catch it, but it landed on her lap. She shot her father an incredulous look which was only answered by these words.

"It was your mother's once. I believe it's time for you to have it. Now get dressed. We'll be meeting someone for breakfast."

All of the doubt and hesitation of her dad only the night before had vanished. It was peculiar, Haru thought, for her to be treated this way. The man who raised her was all gentleness. Now, it was like meeting a brand new person altogether. She wondered if it was because of their present circumstances or because of her newfound awareness.

She inspected the box like a newly discovered artifact, and felt the smoothness like an innocent curious child. 'Haruka', the name of her mother, was engraved on its top lid. Haru couldn't help herself from tracing the golden script. She slid her palm over the sleekness of box's edge, and opened it with trembling fingers afraid to damage, but excited to see.

It was a silver-piece bracelet that was intricately designed by the style of the Victorian era. The center was a light grayish flower piece simply jeweled, but handsomely crafted. It had two pairs of black velvet clasps crossing each other like a lock. It was surprisingly easy to wear regardless of its rustic and complicated shape. Haru marveled at the foreign object on her wrist. She knew immediately that it would quickly become a precious favorite of hers.

She imagined her mother wearing it, her mother's wrist instead of her own, adorned by the beautiful piece of jewelry that bespoke of a love forgotten by this age. The ceiling's light glistened through the black jewels lacing the flower's petals. Somehow, the bracelet didn't feel new to her, its weight, its appearance, its hold—everything was familiarly fitted to her. It was like meeting an old friend whom she never knew, until that point, existed.

14 January 2015
Dionysus' Towers, Italy. 9:15 AM

Byakuran knew it was useless to explain his past with Ishmael Miura with any of you who had not the slightest inkling to what that man was capable of. It was alright, the young man thought. None of you would ever meet him and perhaps, it would be better that way for everyone. Koenig was that sort of person whom death courted ever-so faithfully, that it was actually quite pathetic to see him so alive and indifferent to the threats of imminent danger around him.

That man made death look like a paltry sheep that cowered fearfully in his presence. Figuratively, of course.

Koenig was one of few souls worthy to receive Byakuran's respect considering that we were talking of the ones whose address wasn't inside a casket ten feet below the ground. For that very same reason, Byakuran hated him to a very inspiring degree. It wasn't fun playing with Koenig as a child. There were too many rules, too much to remember and always nothing to do. Koenig would always be there to pull him out of trouble never considering how much time and effort the boy had dedicated in brewing it. Koenig would always be the one to say Byakuran had enough, that he had done enough and that he needed to end whatever shenanigan he was currently doing.

Of course, the boy had to follow.

Even the most foolish man of Koenig's acquaintance knew that once that man ordered you to do something, you invariably had to obey. It wasn't because Koenig was a madman who would pounce upon a man's hide once the said man failed to do his bidding. It simply happened that there were too many accounts of those who were too irresolute to heed his advice. The consequences of their impertinence were met by blood and bullets, which wasn't at all surprising in a way. They did live in the world of mafia, must Byakuran always emphasize that?

"Byakuran, don't stare at your company like that. It's all right to pause in eating but be sure to empty your fork first before doing so. Now, what in the good heavens are you looking at?"

Languidly, Byakuran shove the small sectioned waffle in his mouth. He chewed it impertinently knowing how his former tutor's eyes never left him. He swallowed reluctantly on the sight of Koenig's brow rising at his questionable actions. He still found it hard to see Koenig again after so many years, still acting the same towards him. Surely, Byakuran didn't look less of himself? And yet, the talent of this man to make anyone feel inadequate still had its effect on the Gesso famiglia's boss. He thought he'd grow out of it by now.

It happened very seldom for Byakuran to find himself in a situation he had no control over. Cervali had called upon him the previous night to report on their safe arrival. What he had meant as a joke was taken seriously by his secretary and colleagues. Next thing, he knew, he was sped off into a limousine towards a sixty-floored hotel (with a bubbly Bluebell tailing him from behind) to give his former tutor a proper hello. The meeting was an odd and awkward one. Haru Miura was hostile to him at first, but Bluebell's company had done her some good. The two girls sat across each other in relatively amicable conversation. Neither of them being residents of Italy, they bonded easily over conversations inspired by home.

They were in a short distance from them with their own table, and with their own chairs which allowed them to converse freely without the fear of being judged for their petty qualms. Females without a doubt would bring the death of the human race, Byakuran thought as he heard both the girls squeal in delight in seeing a pair of leather boots from a passing foreigner. Technically speaking, weren't all of them foreigners? Huh. Now wasn't that something to think about?

"Byakuran."

"Hm?"

"You're staring again," Koenig remarked in French. Byakuran ought to remind him that they were in Italy, and thus, by decorum, were obligated to speak Italian. On another side though, he never was fond of Venice. "What do you find so interesting in those few girls, exactly?"

"I find them amusing to watch." Byakuran smirked with an impetuous air. "It's amazing how much they can take without breaking. And you've told her, all, yes?"

"I've said what needs to be said." Koenig looked affectedly at the young man. The second sentence didn't sit well with him. "Nothing more. Nothing less."

"I underestimated her very greatly, Koenig. Very greatly." A brief memory from a parallel world was mirrored in the reflections of Byakuran's pupils. Haru was trembling from hearing the truth about their misfortune of being sent in the future. She recovered very quickly though, and her crying ceased altogether in their stay. Byakuran, grinned. Now wasn't she a peculiar character? "The Vongola is very lucky to have her."

"You know of them? The Vongola?" There was a tone of reprimand in Koenig's tone that foretold Byakuran that the best answer would be the honest one.

"I'm on good terms with their boss." Byakuran spared a brief glance to Haru Miura before continuing to her father, "acquainted with his guardians, and on equal footing with his allies. I'm quite entangled to them as well, I'm afraid."

"They must really be an interesting bunch of people to have your attention." Interesting occurrences with the arcobalenos and the ten-year bazooka forced them to take coinciding paths, Byakuran wanted to say but decided against it. Explanations would be for another time. "For you to condescend to them, they really must be different from the rest."

"You will not be disappointed with them, Koenig, if that's what you're concerned of." Byakuran recounted his experiences with the future Vongola—noisy, immature, troublemakers and yet miraculously deserving of the office they held. "The boss is quite a young lad with a heart of pure gold, and the guardians are of fascinating dynamic natures."

"You barely have an idea how I wish your conjecture is right." Byakuran laughed and assured the older man that he was indeed sure. "It'll be a shame for my daughter to be acquainted with mafia rascals, but if she is, it may as well be with the worthy ones."

"Worthy, they are indeed." Byakuran said remembering the memory of his defeat in the hands of such young kids. The ability to see through the future, and the worlds surrounding it was a greatly tiring one. All the follies of one were shared and known by the others. "And we're to meet their representatives today."

"Do I have a choice?" Koenig returned to his food disclosing the subject. They ate in restless silence as if they needed to discuss more than what they were willing to speak of. One of the things Byakuran learned from Koenig was that silence existed to mean more than just 'silence'. Finally, after picking the last blueberry from his pancake with a fork and chewing it slowly, Koenig spoke again. "How is your father?"

"Very well. He's actually excited to see you. He told me to invite you for dinner once you're free from your obligations."

"I'll be more than willing to make time for a good friend." Byakuran held his toothless grin in place. The two men who had power over him—a young man in possession of the knowledge of the past and future alternative dimensions—were to share a table. Dinner never sounded so horrifying. "Which reminds me, I've heard of news of a merger from Cervali. Millefiore is no longer a mere dream, it seems. How's your father taking it?"

"He's incandescently happy with my engagement that I'm quite worried, one day I'll wake up in a tuxedo saying 'I do' on the altar."

Byakuran heard the clutter of China from a relative distance. Sharp bits of porcelain were scattered on the floor. Haru Miura had hurriedly called for the waiter to clean the mess. Bluebell, whose paleness Byakuran was sure had come from her being the culprit, stared regretfully at the shattered cup.

"Let the hotel staff take care of it. Come here. The both of you can sit with us," Koenig called out. Haru took a seat next to her father at once. Bluebell sat next to Byakuran, still with unhealthy colorless cheeks. It was odd how such a trifle thing could affect the female race into thinking they'd done such a grave wrong.

They spilled a little tea, they broke a few glasses—such little matters were very easily mended.

Haru Miura ordered for Jasmine tea while Byakuran took the liberty of ordering for Bluebell—"Hot Belgian chocolate and two glasses of water". The uniformed man nodded in assent before taking his leave."I didn't even know they serve those," Bluebell said innocently following the server as far as her eyes allowed. Byakuran patted the top of her head wordlessly before turning again to Koenig.

"Where was I? Oh right. The engagement—if father had it his way, there wouldn't be even a need for an engagement. We'll head straight off to signing to the marriage papers. Thankfully for the law and decorum, I'll still have a few years for myself." Byakuran grinned knowingly at his tutor. "Yuni is still too young to marry."

"Hahi! You're engaged to Yuni-chan?" Haru Miura exclaimed in Japanese due to shock, startling both her father and Bluebell in the process. "Sorry…I…I…I…That wasn't right of me." She stammered out in broken French.

"You're listening to us, Miss Miura?" Byakuran calmly asked more out of an attempt to put more color in her already crimson cheeks than to actually know her answer. "But yes. I am lucky enough to be married to a very sensible girl who's equal of my status and position."

"Do you know the bride-to-be, Haru?" Koenig looked at his daughter indifferently.

The younger Miura fidgeted with her hands on her lap, allowing first the waiter to serve their drinks before answering. Byakuran smiled at her troubled countenance. Quite a show, she was giving him. He heard a suppressed cough from Bluebell. More out of general instinct than of actual concern, he slid a sheet of napkin towards the other girl beside him.

"Through the Vongola," Haru Miura said this in such a controlled and careful way that it was hard not to see the distress she had in mentioning the said famiglia. She had the right to be vexed Byakuran thought noting the change in Koenig's expression from outmost indifference to mild irritation. The way Koenig spoke of the famiglia earlier hinted Byakuran that they were not in the older Miura's good opinion.

"Ah," Koenig grunted, resuming his indifference. "Such a famous clique—that mafia clan is." Koenig then continued the conversation to another course.

Haru Miura, Byakuran noted, seemed to sit unsettled with her steaming Jasmine tea barely touched. Bluebell hadn't pronounced a word to her, being far too preoccupied with her beverage to bother. Finally, against the remonstrating stare of Koenig, Haru Miura turned to him.

"You and Yuni-chan are a couple?" The subject was an embarrassing one that Koenig with all the mastery he had over himself couldn't help but pronounce his daughter's name in a tone of scolding. Haru Miura was barely affected. She refused to meet her father's gaze as she waited for Byakuran to speak up of the topic she introduced.

"We are and we aren't, Miss Miura." Byakuran saw the glint of darkness in the younger girl's eyes. He smirked at this change and settled his arm on the back of Bluebell's chair for a more comfortable position. "It is a political marriage, Miss Miura. One that is sure to benefit both our families."

Haru looked briefly at him, then to Bluebell, then to her father. Koenig sighed at this.

"Byakuran comes from a very influential family, Haru. He's expected to marry respectably to keep the family's honor." Haru returned her eyes to Byakuran which was met with an easy gaze on his side. "People of his position and birthright are prepared for these things since childhood."

"And does, Yuni-chan think the same as you do?" Haru asked in a tone of feigned indifference that had little semblance to her father's.

"We consider it an honor to be of service to our family, Miss Miura."

Something in her changed when he said this, something that made her unmistakably recognizable as Koenig's daughter. There was that melancholic yet brave glow in the fire in her eyes that made Byakuran curve his lip into a coy grin. It'd be a shame to be incinerated by something so dangerously beautiful.

14 January 2015
Dionysus' Towers, Italy. 10:00 AM

The first thing Cervali noticed in seeing Miss Miura again was her calmed features. The doubt and fear that had been so apparent the day before had faded to a mere trace. She recovered herself admirably well and had composed herself in such a short period of time that there could really be no question regarding her parentage. He had met with the representatives of the Vongola on his way to the hotel, reminding them to refer to him and the man they were to meet as Innocenti and Koenig, respectively. Not surprisingly, Dionysus' towers lived up to its name of a dwelling fitted for the gods. The tremendous expense in keeping the place in business was not a small sum. Koenig had truly outdone himself in his investment here.

Innocenti also noted the change of dress of two Miuras from their disheveled and worn-out attires from yesterday. Had Miss Miura known how much her woven sweater cost, she would've probably been more careful in raising her cup of tea to her lips. He remarked that though Miss Miura had positively improved both in her manners and her behavior, the reluctance and uncertainty were still there. She looked small and unsure sitting beside her father with Byakuran and another girl across her. Her size was further reduced when they joined their table.

Miss Miura looked surprised to see the people he brought with him. Lal Mirch fought her emotions from showing, but Gokudera couldn't contain his agitation in seeing her. Neither he nor Miss Miura spoke a word, though. The bratty kid Innocenti had seen before in Gokudera vanished in thin air in the presence of Miss Miura.

Lal spoke for the both of them, and she did so with a convincing yet sincere tone which blended the authority of a male general with the empathy of a female commander. Innocenti saw her amazing effect towards his colleague, and though he was sure Koenig resented the Vongola for associating themselves with his daughter, he was interested enough of Lal Mirch's person to conceive the possibility that perhaps, they weren't that bad, after all. If Koenig would see more of Lal Mirch's character in the others who were said to be acquainted with his daughter, there could be no doubt that the Vongola would easily be promoted from a mere connection to a worthy ally.

Generally speaking, they ended their morning engagement on a relatively fair note. Byakuran and Bluebell had expressed their regrets from not being able to escort them to the Vongola mansion. They had another appointment to attend, they said. Innocenti was sure though it was only an excuse not to exert themselves more than they already had. Byakuran, was, quite predictably, still the same lazy boy of Innocenti's young adventurous days.

"You look well, Miss Miura."

Haru Miura smiled at him. They were on the top of the entrance stairs to the hotel. From a considerable distance, were Koenig and the Vongola representatives who were instructing the entourage of men in suited black about the necessary precautions to be taken on the road.

"It comes with knowing, Monsieur."

"It would be nice for you to call me Uncle Henry again, Miss Miura." Haru Miura looked at him slightly perplexed. Ah. Was it still too soon to ask of such little favor from her? "If it's only all right with you, of course." He was surprised to see Haru nodding decisively—surprised but glad.

"Uncle Henry would do well in private. Innocenti in public," she remarked with a familiar toothy grin.

"Well that is a fine arrangement."

"You need to call me by my name too," Miss Miura insisted with warmth. There was something very satisfying in knowing how easy she had become in his presence. "To be only fair."

"Ah. But you see, Miss Miura, not calling you so would be a hard habit to break."

"Why?" she asked innocently with two curious protruding eyes.

"To tell the truth, Miss Miura. You look so much of your mother that it's very hard not to call you with a merited title." Innocenti could see the graveness that had, all of the sudden, spread out across her features. Had he made a mistake? Innocenti questioned himself. "She was a very beautiful woman, Miss Miura."

"It's a shame I know so little about her," Miss Miura said with a forlorn smile.

Ah. Now, he understood. The grief that came with a death that was never mourned for but always lamented—a tragedy it was, indeed, to be accursed by such a sickness.

15 January 2015
Vongola HQ, Italy. 11:00 AM

The ride wasn't really that long, Haru thought as they stepped inside the mansion. There were so many things inside her mind that it prevented her from seeing the views of Venice, Italy. The next thing she knew she was walking beside her father towards the place her friends were said to be. She hadn't given Lal and Gokudera a proper hello, and she doubted if she'd ever have the chance to do so. Lal quickly took her father's company, having strict orders from Iemitsu to bring Koenig to him once they arrived. She assured him that she'd be fine on her own, and Lal promised her safety in the hands of Gokudera. Koenig, after giving a disapproving and menacing look on the young lad, finally sighed in defeat, and let himself be led away from his daughter.

"I didn't know you speak, French, woman."

"Sometimes." Gokudera barely looked at her when she replied.

"It's really weird. You're in Italy yet you speak French." Haru didn't want to mention that aside from not knowing Italian, her father and Byakuran had started the conversation in French earlier, and she found very little to change in it. "Ironically, still the same stupid woman, ne?"

"Hahi!" Haru wanted to smack him. Really? At all times? Lal Mirch and her father were out of sight. Hitting Gokudera now wouldn't be so much of a crime. "You, bakadera—"

"Lambo-kun misses you, you know," he remarked all of the sudden with a subdued but still irritated tone.

Haru's throat went dry…she couldn't reply.

She was thankful she didn't rush up to him in blind anger. He was leading her up the stairs, and she was following a few steps behind him. He didn't see her face, and she didn't see his. And somehow, it made her feel better knowing the stupid octopus-head also didn't see her tears.

When they finally reached the lobby, Haru didn't bother hiding her sobs. There they were, Ryohei, Hibari, Chrome and the others. She hugged Chrome first, like the younger sister she never knew she wanted. She then came to Bianchi whom she clung to, with an almost childish affection. Ryohei and Yamamoto came next, who smiled at her with all homely warmth. When she asked of Kyoko and the kids though, she was disappointed by Ryohei's reply. "They're sleeping right now. The past few days weren't kind to either of them."

Haru most certainly understood that. She felt a hand ruffle her hair, followed by the flicker of the lighter. She glared coldly at Gokudera who looked back at her with a proud smirk. "Nice to have you back, brownilocks."

"Hahi! Cigarettes can kill you, Gokudera-san!"

"And women won't?—Ouch! Aniki, it was a joke!"

It was actually comical, Haru whispered in the recesses of her mind. Everything seemed normal again. Note that Haru used the word 'seemed' because even she had reached her limits in hoping they could still go back. Footsteps came from behind her as she bit back Gokudera's last insult with a rueful comeback of her own.

"Haru?" The familiar voice behind her said. She turned with astonishment and with a girlish cry, she held on the equally shocked body of Tsuna Sawada.

He was trembling in her embrace, and though she could feel his hand behind her, his eyes, she knew were hoping to see another. Selfishness won over decency. The rest of the gang fell into a heavy silence, which Haru Miura knew she could easily dispel. "This is the last time, Tsuna-san." She muffled in Japanse. Had he heard her, she doubted if he understood. Well, it no longer mattered. She retracted herself away and forced a smile on her tear-stained face.

"Thank you for taking care of Kyoko-chan and the others, The Tenth," she said with all the cheerfulness she could muster. She bowed low to him, and the surprise and puzzlement that came over Tsuna's face as she stood back up, was easily detectable. She didn't blame him for his confusion. All the others except Hibari and Bianchi stood out equally bewildered.

For what it was worth, Haru Miura didn't find it hard to let go of Tsuna-san.

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