25 January 2015
Vongola HQ, Italy. 3:00 PM

Innocenti knew his friends better than anyone.

Yet the more he saw of them, the more questions rose in the back of his mind that for the sake of keeping our story concise must stay there till the end of time. Some things were better left unsaid after all. His friends, ever the eccentric intellectuals that they were, believed him to be 'too innocent' for certain matters, hence, the nickname. Currently, he was contemplating on whether an island in Fiji would be good retirement investment. Much like Verde, he was prone to spacing out.

"I don't trust him."

He was shaken from his thoughts by Miss Miura who stood near the garden windows, arms crossed and brows furrowed. She looked more like Koenig this way, the Parisian thought.

"Believe me, you're not the first."

"Why do you insist on having him here? And why is he full-grown and not a baby?"

"You should ask your father," Innocenti mollified. Miss Miura stared at him skeptically. He brought his palms to face her, and did a gesture of surrender. "But I guess I am also partly at fault. I understand your reservations however he is already here, and frankly, we can use his help. On your second question, I'm pretty sure he has a drug of some sort."

"Can't you employ somebody else? You have the whole Vongola at your disposal. There has to be someone here." Miss Miura sounded awfully desperate. "Tell me you at least tried to find someone."

"That Italian with white hair—"

"Gokudera?"

"Ah. Yes. He's a bright kid, you know? I made him do the algorithms for some of the other programs." Before the brunette could grow hopeful, Innocenti thought it best to make things clear. "We still need Verde though. Koenig and I are getting rusty with these security systems. Your godfather is of great use to us."

"Please don't call him that."

"There's no escaping the truth, Miss Miura."

Innocenti poured himself a glass of scotch from the decanter on the table. Unlike Koenig, the Frenchman didn't mind Haru seeing his vice. For him, it was better this way. He was no god, and try as he might, he wasn't perfect.

"I will find a way." There was something in her confidence that just might convince Innocenti she could. The Parisian laughed, dismissing the possibility. She frowned at him. "I'm not a practicing Catholic."

"But you are still Catholic, and so is your father," he explained to her. "And as long you are, Verde on record at least, is your godfather." He stopped for a moment hearing her sigh. He sipped on his glass before chuckling. "Have you ever considered that Verde won't have any other beneficiary but you? You are sitting on a gold pile, my dear."

"Is there really a need? I already have you and dad." Innocenti looked at her sharply. The golden liquid spun inside the glass with the motion of his hand. Miss Miura was at perfect ease when she shrugged shoulders. "They have wi-fi in Dionysus' Towers. I checked out a few things before we met with Byakuran."

"My, my, so you've done the math, then." He nodded understanding all else left in between. "Though I have no idea how you had access to that information. Do you have an IT guy?"

"I have friends," she said, walking towards him. "What?"

"I don't know." Innocenti smirked knowingly. She reached for the decanter, read the label and gave it a sniff. She cringed, obviously disgusted. "Wanting to throw someone out, keeping a good list of contacts, visiting other people's accounts—you really are your father's daughter."

"You sound so surprised, Uncle Henry."

"I love your father deeply, Haru," Innocenti said with a dramatic shake of his head. "But I'd rather have you take after your mother."

26 January 2015
Vongola HQ, Italy. 6:30 PM

Haru Miura wasn't accustomed to this part of the manor.

But she followed I-pin anyway because who could deny a five-year old of such a simple request? Of course, I'll go with you, I-pin. The hallways were wider here in the left wing. Also, it was great deal quieter.

They had ninety-minutes before the big dinner. Everyone was busy preparing for the Don's first meal with the 'extended' version of his family. Haru was attired for the occasion; a peach knee-length dress, courtesy of a returning godfather. Her father insisted she use it much to her annoyance, and Verde's amusement.

They stopped in front a large mahogany door. I-pin knocked twice before it opened. Imagine the look of shock that spread across Haru's face on seeing Xanxus on the other side. The Varia leader smirked at them. I-pin who was standing on her shoulder quickly bowed before speeding off to who knows where.

"The little minx brought you too early," Xanxus said in place of a normal greeting. He was wearing a pair of dark Armani pants with a white undershirt. Obviously, he was still getting ready. "I'll be right back. Make yourself at home."

He shut the door behind her before disappearing to what she guessed to be his personal bathroom. She sighed, examining her surroundings. What had she gotten herself into this time?

There was a king sized bed ten paces from her, a lamp stand, a painting of…that was an imitation of Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, right? What caught her attention though was the wall-sized bookcase near her left. She walked towards it suspiciously, unable to reconcile the image of The Ninth's adopted son with the outstanding collection before her. Most of the volumes were pre-twentieth century, and all of them were leather-bound.

Haru Miura raised her brow. Well, this was weird.

She had to admit though, the man had taste. One title specifically, earned her approval. She reached for the book mechanically, as she had done thousands of times before in her school library. Only this time, she handled the copy with more care, seeing the pages brown from use.

Tarzan of the Apes, the embossed text read.

Well, he did say to make herself at home. She took a seat on the swivel chair that was much more comfortable than it looked. She opened it to Chapter One, and let time fleet by in minutes.

She didn't know how long he had spent facing the mirror. When the brunette started stretching, she just saw him there with his necktie following the masterful movements of his well-practiced hands.

"Tarzan, huh?"

"You don't mind?"

"Nah," he brushed the invisible dust from his shoulders before settling himself on the edge of his bed. "Though most girls were into Austen."

"Most girls in Oxford, you mean?" Haru asked nonchalantly, pointing to the picture on his desk. It showed a barely aged Xanxus in full toga. The Italian waved it off.

"They were trash," he said indifferently. "Most of England was."

"You have a degree, then?"

"A barely used law degree," Xanxus answered with a shrug. "Also trash."

Haru Miura stared at him disbelievingly. She stumbled on the portrait a while ago. Right before she started Chapter Two. She placed the book on the table, and took the picture frame for a closer look. The signet on the bottom left was definitely Oxford's. She knew this from the textbooks at home. Haru Miura frowned before turning to him.

"We've met before."

"Under very different circumstances."

"You were against Tsuna."

"For a short time."

"It doesn't make sense," Haru confessed. "Why—"

"The cover-up?" Xanxus continued for her. "I could ask you the same thing."

"It's easier." The brunette bit her lower lip. "For everyone."

"Less questions, less lies, right?"

Haru Miura eyed him queerly. They were both liars. Perhaps, it really took one to know one. She wondered briefly if he had always known, if he had always seen through the happy-go-lucky get-up. And if he had, did he tell on her? To the Ninth? To Director Iemitsu?

"Frankly, you don't look like her."

Without needing to ask who 'her' was, Haru already knew. Even the prodigal son wasn't immune to her mother's charms. She laughed bitterly at what he said. Finally, the first one to see the truth for what it was.

"I really don't."

She relaxed more in her seat. Even with the number of scars grazing his face, he was undeniably attractive. Sadly, not a lot of people would be able to say the same. His handsomeness would always be eclipsed by one's fear of being set into flames, always to be superseded by the ugliness of his past sins.

"You look more like her, actually," Haru Miura admitted. He did look a lot like her mother. Same nose, same eyes, same features. The resemblance ended where the character began. There was too much bad blood. Too much remembered from the battle for the Vongola rings.

"We could've been related," Xanxus said with a foreign smile. "Had she been a little more Italian."

But Haruka Fuentes was no Italian, not in heart, not in blood. Xanxus leant back a little more to the bed. Haru saw more of the well-tanned skin under his white dress shirt. He was far too European. Her mother was far too Asian. Could've been, Haru thought, but never was.

"You had brothers," Haru said, putting back the photo beside another frame. It was of the Don with his sons.

"I lost all of them," he replied. "Just as I've lost my sister."

Haru Miura looked down on her feet quite ashamed, and quite mad. You see, the Xanxus she knew wasn't a sentimental person. He wasn't interested in literature. He wasn't a degree holder from Oxford. Most of all, he didn't say stuff like this. He wasn't supposed to be eloquent. He wasn't supposed to tell her things so easily and without question.

It was disorienting. Because the gang hated Xanxus once, and then things changed and they became sort-of-allies, and this? What was this?

Did it not matter what they achieved with the Varia because the leader was no more but a shell?

Haru Miura felt it before she heard it; the silence that engulfed all things, and the inevitable moment of realization that came with it.

No. It wasn't the Varia that was problem. It wasn't Xanxus.

It was her. She was the problem.

Haru Miura was afraid for the first time since her transition from the naïve to the enlightened. This was how the others must've felt. The disorientation, the confusion, the need to reconcile what they already knew, and what they presently saw. She had changed and so had their perception of her. The brunette pursed her lips, dreading an outburst. She wanted to scream, wanted to believe that explaining would make people understand, wanted to believe explanations begged understanding not sympathy.

"I'm sorry."

It was out before she knew it. She looked at him, and saw not a hint of surprise. It was as if he expected it; as if he anticipated the apology, waited for it, even.

But why?

Ah, he was studying her. He knew. He found out. She didn't know Haruka like they did. She loved her, but not as much as those around her did. She was too young to have grasped the concept of affection the way most had when Haruka passed away. And for that, Haru Miura was guilty; because Haruka loved her the most, and the love returned wasn't even an inch close.

"We all are," Xanxus said, looking at the bracelet on her wrist.

Haru didn't know how long the silence lasted. It took her a while to recover herself. She readied her stomach for three courses, not for this.

Then, he stood up.

He repeated the gesture of brushing the invisible dust on his shoulders. Though Haru Miura felt betrayed that he fooled all of them into thinking him uncouth and primitive, she couldn't help but appreciate him this way. So maybe that was something to ponder about. Maybe something could still be valued after the shedding of the husk.

He straightened his collar. She returned the book to the shelf. Then they went outside locking the door behind them that no one might tell what happened, and no one knew.

26 January 2015
Vongola HQ, Italy. 7:05 PM

Koenig didn't like to think too highly of himself.

He knew what he was capable of, and also what he wasn't capable of. They were like black and white to him. There was no gray in between.

That was why Koenig asked for Verde, because the older Miura knew he could handle it. He could handle him—whatever mess his friend had become.

Verde was still Verde, and though the man might be mad, he was still a genius. Koenig wouldn't let himself to be denied of intelligent company. God knew how little of them were left.

Koenig didn't like to think too highly of himself.

That was why he avoided The Ninth's son the best he could. For all his brilliance, the Japanese professor knew that he would only cause the boy more pain. Only stir more hatred. With the current state of affairs inside the manor, they couldn't afford to open old wounds. Time would heal all, but meeting the boy prematurely would be pointless. There was nothing that could be done. Haruka was dead.

"There was a time before now," Verde grinned at him knowingly. "When that boy was no more but a boy."

Koenig straightened his tie, pulling it tight, but not too tight.

"There was a time before now," Verde continued. "When that boy did more good than harm."

"Xanxus hasn't done anything," Koenig answered.

"Exactly! He hasn't visited The Ninth, Koenig." Verde crossed one leg over the other, haughtily. "I think Timoteo wishes to live in a time before now."

"Back when Haruka was still living. Xanxus was no more but a child. Timoteo's sons were still alive," Koenig sighed. "Why wouldn't he? What wouldn't The Ninth do to return to a time where all his children were within reach?"

Koenig stopped himself. He was getting too defensive on a subject that he had no right to discuss.

"That boy might not be much of a good son, but he was a good brother," Verde told him soothingly. "Whatever Timoteo had done, I don't think I could ever forgive him as well had I been his son."

"It wasn't the Don's fault."

"Was it Xanxus' then?"

"It was nobody's fault," Koenig clarified. "Life got to them."

"You mean to say, their lives were taken away?"

"Give it a rest, Verde."

"I think it very tragic to only find out one's true heritage after all loved ones passed away. Not only that, the boy was not going to succeed his father," Verde said ignoring the frown of his company. "Xanxus took Vongola for himself because he couldn't let a stranger inherit what rightfully belonged to his brothers."

"It's not for us to say."

"Not for us to say how The Ninth failed as a father?" Verde asked furiously. "Is that it?"

"Verde—"

"And they call Xanxus a monster. How about the man who made the boy who he was?" The scientist was trembling all over as he said this. Already, Verde could feel his guts shrinking to that of a mere five-year-old's. Reaching inside his breast pocket, he took out a green bottle. He swallowed a handful of white pills, and washed it away with flask of gin. The spasm immediately subsided. Weakly, he continued, "I apologize for that. How unbecoming of me."

"Are you alright?" Koenig asked careful not to sound too worried. Verde abhorred pity.

"I'm fine. It's just a side-effect." Verde coughed.

"You really ought to find a permanent solution for your…condition."

"I've tried and failed, my friend. Again and again," Verde sighed before smirking. "Though if you want to tinker something up, be my guest."

Koenig didn't like to think too highly himself.

That was why he could do nothing but sigh, and straighten his tie, pulling it tight, but not too tight, as they waited for the summons from below that dinner was ready.

26 January 2015
Vongola HQ, Italy. 8:04 PM

Don Timoteo had three other sons to meet, and one two ladies to greet in the great Somewhere else.

Inside the Manor's dining hall, for the first time in twenty years, the Don prayed. He gave thanks to the Lord Almighty for the food, and for the presence of his family. He continued praying in his mind after that, during the appetizers, before the main course, after the dessert.

He continued praying after they moved to the drawing room. The Tenth generation was scattered all over the place. It was impossible to keep an eye on them all at once. It didn't occur to the Don, who was seated on a wheelchair, that he had dropped his kerchief. Only when Xanxus stooped beside him to pick it up did Timoteo notice.

"You dropped this."

Xanxus could've stood up before saying this, but he didn't. Varia leader stayed there kneeling under Iemitsu's cold glare. Timoteo breathed out, and smiled.

"Thank you."

Suprisingly, the boy only nodded. Timoteo knew right away that if there was anything he had to say to his son, this was the time to say it. But out came nothing. The Don savored the silence, wanting to commit this moment to memory.

It was Iemitsu who coughed, and suggested the Don should rest. That it was getting late anyway. Timoteo understood. Xanxus straightened up and sighed, not a word passing from his lips. The whole evening had been like that for Varia's lion. It was as if the boy was supressing himself.

"Take care of them."

The Ninth smiled at the him before going. It was not the request of a boss. It was the request of a father, a father whom Xanxus had to share with everyone since childhood. Iemitsu kept quiet the rest of the way to the Don's chamber. The Ninth bid him adieu when the nurses came to take his place. Timoteo slept peacefully that night, and the five nights succeeding it.

On the sixth, Timoteo's closed eyes welcomed the the moonset earlier than usual. That night, the don fell into a deep sleep, a sleep from which he never awoke.

Big thanks to Rane Kurodo. You DA REAL MVP. HAHA. Thank you for leaving a review. Hopefully, I can add more references in the future. Fufufufufu. :)

To the people who added this story to their faves and to the people who are following this, I love you all. :*

Is anybody still reading this? XD