#glowingcloud!au

It has been years since he last seen his Père. He is older now and his Mamma is tired.

He doesn’t like her being tired.

He doesn’t like her coming home late, exhausted to the bone.

He doesn’t like her smile fondly at the letters, that contained money Père has send once upon a time in the envelope, and kiss her ring, because she will cry while doing it.

He doesn’t like seeing her cry.

“It isn’t about what one wants, it is about what one has to do.” A faraway memory whispers.

Renato knows what he has to do. He thinks that he should have thought of it sooner.

Unbeknownst to him, his eyes glow gold for an instant.

--

“Mamma.”

She turned around. “Yes?”

“I’m going to the city to find work.”

She turns to the stove again. “No.”

There is an awkward stillness between them that can’t be cut with the clacks of the knife meeting the board, the crackling fire of the herd, nor the hissing of the kettle.

There is an invisible barrier between them made of sunlight and words unsaid. (He wonders why he didn’t notice it sooner, and wishes he did.)

He finds work as an errand boy for a mechanic anyway. (It’s not much, but better than nothing.)

--

Renato one day comes home to see Mamma being harassed by some scum.

They are knocked out quickly, and he dumps them at the edge of the city, where Mamma said they come from.

(He might have not-so-accidentally lost their clothes and additional belongings. Serves them right.)

--

Renato coughs, wipes away the mix of blood and saliva, and glares.

The leader inhales sharply at the golden flickers amidst black, and that is enough time for him to lunge again.

He gets knocked down, gets up, and down again. (And again and again.)

“I,” he whispers hoarsely, more to remind himself than anyone else. “Am not a bastard. Or a whoreson.”

They only sneer at him, one stomps on his hand- an ugly crack halls through the alley. He screams, and the same asshole clamps his filthy hands on his throat.

“Do you know,” he begins with a cruel grin. “The little hut at the edge of the city? Very cute, with an equally cute lady in it.”

His eyes widen. No.

“The first time some of mine visited, they were turned away. Not a good show of hospitality, right?”

Renato desperately claws at the way bigger hands, he has a sinking feeling in his gut.

“So, we decided to remedy that.”

NO!

He scrambles out of the alley, and ignores the already fading pain, every step he takes the limp is less pronounced, and breaks out in a run as soon as his body allows him. (Barks of laughter, mocking jeers, and his frantic heartbeat follow him like a faraway echo.)

The instant he sees nothing on the horizon where a small rectangle should be, he feels something inside him break. (But he runs on anyway.)

He stops in front of smoldering wooden remains. The only thing that hints that something was there to be burnt along with the ashes covering the earth and burnt patches of grass.

Distantly, he wonders if he could have prevented this. If he only hadn’t stopped them- What if he had come home that day sooner- What if-

No, wait. They are still alive.

This must be corrected. (And correct it he did.)

They do not get up, and a part of Renato does regret. (His Père and Mamma wouldn’t have wanted this. Any of this.)

But he walks, feeling aches fade into dull throbs and every cut mend.

He takes the bike of the leader that is standing in the two blocks away, and makes sure to run over his body as many times as it needs to make it undefinable mush.

He then repeats it with the other bodies.

Renato will never know how long he took to complete that task, nor how long he stared at the mess but still saw nothing at all.

The next thing he remembers is that he woke up at the mechanic shop.

--

For those who don’t understand, I deliberately wrote “Père” (French) for father and “Mamma” (Italian) for mother. This is why the dad speaks in french (”I love you both so much.”) and the mom in Italian (”I love you too.”) at the first scene.

You see, Renato is an Italian name as far as I know, and Sinclair originated from “Saint Clair”, a Norman French town.

Sawada Tsunayoshi stares blankly at the ceiling, too… shocked of the recent events and made up of aching muscles to fall asleep.

A purple hitman baby and his pet octopus became his tutors.

He’s trained to become a mafia boss- courtesy of said purple hitman baby, with the octopus as moral support. (He likes and is grateful to the octopus, and HE DOESN’T WANT TO BECOME A MAFIA BOSS!)

He died via gunshot, again due to the purple hitman baby, but didn’t die. He instead turned into a raging, freakishly strong pervert.

He humiliated himself in front of Kyoko-chan. (He HUMILATED himself in front of KYOKO-CHAN!)

And then he got challenged to a duel, and he won. (He won at something. He wasn’t a complete failure.)

Thanks to the purple hitman baby and his pet octopus with his weird bullet. The ones that caused the whole trouble in the first place. Deathperation Bullet, right?

He sighs. Without warning and self-introduction, they just crashed into his life and-

Without self-introduction.

A piercing scream of humiliation and indignant fury echoed throughout the town of Namimori.

(When the same voice roared “REBORN! GOING TO APOLOGIZE FOR DISTURBING THE PEACE AND COMPENSATE WITH MY DYING WILL!” and the owner of that same voice bore the arm band of a Disciplinary Committee Member the next morning, well…

Let’s say it was for the sake of extra training.)

(Oodako and Tsuna will groan and tell you otherwise, though. With Skull cackling madly in the background.

“Wait, you still haven’t introduced yourselves yet.”

“Oh, look at the time! Nighty-night!” and Skull is out like a light.

“…must. Not. Anger. Hibari-san. Again. Must. Not. Anger.” The teen murmured the mantra through gritted teeth till he fell asleep.

Oodako sighed. The shit he had to put up with, really. Not that he would be anywhere else of course, someone had to keep his human in check.

Skull grins in his sleeps and rolls over, smacking Tsuna in the face, and jolting Oodako from his dozing.

Well, he wouldn’t mind impromptu vacations now and then, or paybacks.)

.

Renato smiles with grudging fondness at the letter and sighs. “That ridiculous ass…”

He has a ridiculously fine ass, yes. Astounding observation: wow. Would have never guessed that. Leon teased.

He stares flatly at his chameleon partner, ignoring the faint blush on his cheeks. “Hahaha… Very funny.”

Leon winks at him. Cheeky.

.

“What the absolutely fucking hell are you doing.”

Skull winces at the more-a-statement-than-a-question. “Uh… I can explain-”

“Fedora Incident.”

Skull wisely shuts up.

“Now you’ve got me interested… Huehuehue…” Tsuna cackles under his breath, later he will realize how scarily similar- no, terrifyingly identical even- it is to Skull’s.

“Oho?” Renato purrs with a glint in his eye. “Care to share… your side? And some stories?”

Tsuna smiles, full of affection and hint of a certain purple lover’s demise via humiliation, and grabs his outstretched hand softly- but also firmly like a newborn would grip the finger of his father.

Skull is not feeling sappy warmth spreading throughout his chest at a certain image and fighting a dope-y grin. He’s not. Also like he is not planning extra tortur-tutoring sessions for acting so familiar with Renato.

Okay, he totally is. (It’s a creepy sight.)

Leon grins. As much as a chameleon can grin. He is so winning the best winganimal-slash-matchmaker award at the newest club meeting.

Oodako facepalms. Quite audibly, since he has eight arms and all that. (‘If I were human,’ he tells himself, ‘I would have become an alcoholic a long, long time ago.’)

.

Byakuran smiles and extends his hand. “Won’t you join my game, Renato?”

Renato looks at the teen-almost-adult’s tattoo. Gesso. (It promises success. It murmurs about power. “Come to my side, even though I don’t have cookies. Do you like marshmallows, though?”

Most important of all, it guarantees revenge at… her.)

Renato stares at the beaming smile, and closes his eyes for a second.

In that second, he thinks of Leon’s club meetings, the rainbow mafia baby bonds, Tsuna, Checkerface, Her Before The Betrayal, Her daughter’s and granddaughter’s sad, knowing eyes, Leon, and Skull.

(Oodako’s facepalms, pats on the back, the first contact he had with Tsunayoshi- bonding over Skull’s ridiculous drama, accepting the offer, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”, “I’m sorry.”, Leon. Skull.

Skull. The ridiculous ass.)

“I don’t like marshmallows.” He responds evenly.

As he walks away, he turned and met (not-Skull’s-shade-of purple) deceptively amiable eyes.

“And it’s Reborn to you.”

“Reborn?” he cocks his head, wearing the same smile he had worn at the offer.

“Yes, ciao.”

Byakuran smiled. A cruel one this time. “Ciao.”