Chapter Text
Act 1 - The Opened Way
"I don't know, Reborn."
The small guest sat in silence, though after the lengthy and exhaustive explanation of his request, he had hoped for a less vague answer.
"Is something …unclear to you?"
"No, it's not that. I simply can't find any significant reason why I should agree," the Nera Signora1 responded.
"I know you don't like taking risks," Reborn pressed on, "but in this case, you would only be risking the services of one of your subordinates – at worst, her life."
His honored host didn't reply, as she went back to rest her head on her knuckles just like she was doing before passing her judgment. She was exactly as the Ninth had described her: her serpent-like eyes scrutinized those who spoke to her without ever looking away, weighing both words and gestures. Conversations with her could exhaust even the most eloquent of mafiosi, so sharp was her scrutiny of details and subtleties.
"...because she's nothing more than a subordinate to you, right?"
"Indeed. As far as I'm concerned, she can die in Japan just as well as here in Italy – it doesn't interest me. She has already reached the peak of her usefulness long ago; I no longer need her."
"So, what is it that doesn't convince you, Signora? Uncertainty doesn’t suit you, nor your family. Then again… empty words and promises are just a few of the means with which you’ve earned the only fame you're known for."
"Be careful with what you say, Reborn," murmured the young man next to her, who until then had only listened in silence. "What she means is that you are not trustworthy. Since when did the Vongola decide that we deserve their esteemed attention? Moreover, they show their strength by asking a favor from us, who were ignored and criticized for excessive neutrality until yesterday... through a mere subordinate. Was that old fool of your Ninth afraid of coming here himself?"
As he spoke, the woman slowly moved the arm on which she rested her head towards him, gesturing with her hand for him to stop, an intimation he silently obeyed. Reborn didn't turn to look at him – doing so would have meant giving weight to the boys’ insulting words, and thus granting them an advantage in the negotiations, albeit purely abstract. He knew he had to play their game and remain unyielding if he wanted to get what he was there for. Besides, he hadn't left his student in Japan immediately after an important battle like the one with the Kokuyo Gang only to be defeated by words from a family considered decadent and of questionable trustworthiness; at the same time, he didn’t want to disappoint the Ninth's expectations.
"Your son has grown up well, Signora. He already knows how to speak like a leader... albeit with a hint of presumption."
She smiled, strangely pleased. "You are correct, but I don't blame him. Presumption is not a bad quality; you just have to hide it well, like all flaws. In that aspect, Tristam is a bit immature, I must admit."
"He's not just immature in rhetoric."
Turning around, he saw that the veil of indifference on the young man's face now showed a slight nervous disturbance due to his words, just as he had hoped. He's still young, he thought, wondering if his presence at the negotiation table had been requested by the mother as a kind of field lesson. His appearance matched well with his haughty demeanor: a lucid black cape covered the left part of his torso and shoulder, and underneath was a long deep blue velvet waistcoat, decorated with luscious embroidered lace and two sets of silver buttons.
And I thought I had seen my fair share of arrogant young mafia heirs, Reborn pondered, this one sounds insufferable. He addressed him with his usual patient smile:
"Did I mention the Vongola by name in my speech, boy?"
"No, and it was clever of you, but you explicitly mentioned leasing one of our assets – inexplicably, the worst one you could go for – to Sawada Tsunayoshi, and by now anyone well-informed knows that he has been designated as the future successor of the Vongola Nono."
"You said it right, future. Tsuna doesn't have any decision-making power as of now, and his guardians are not yet officially part of the family, except for one or two. I am not part of it either – just the Tenth’s private tutor, and I don't have to answer to anyone for my actions. I was simply requested to present you with this bargain. You speak well, boy, but it was a mistake to assume that the request came from a representative of the Vongola family, because anyone who knows me knows that I represent no one but myself."
The Nera Signora nodded, gently squeezing her son's arm as he remained impassive, staring at the small hitman. "Forgive him, your fame eludes him. He doesn't have enough experience yet... fortunately, he excels in everything else."
Reborn knew very well that nothing in the Cavalieri family happened by chance. He was almost repulsed by how natural and vile their Eighth’s way of flattering others was, but that's how they had become who they were: the snakes of the mafia world – though, in his eyes, that woman resembled a spider more than anything else. She was sitting in a sumptuous velvet armchair, her legs crossed and partially covered by her long tight dress – Reborn noticed that not once had she moved them from that position, and judging by the elaborate wooden cane resting on the side of her, he assumed it wasn’t just an act of apathy. The long trumpet dress accentuated her boney figure to the point you’d mistake her for a shadow, and the long black satin gloves helped fixing that image in Reborn’s mind. You’d have expected such a fine lady to wear jewelry to decorate her long neck, but on that occasion it was bare, only the tiny straps of her dress to cross her shoulders. He took that as a sign that his visit was either not expected, or not taken in great consideration. Finally, her face was crowned by a high elegant bun adorned with wilting flowers, which still let some hair fall down the sides of her cheekbones made prominent by her age – which, he noted, didn’t seem like it was something she tried to conceal. Her makeup was light to the point her wrinkles were visible, and you could clearly place her between her late forties to early fifties. Clearly done on purpose. Perhaps it has something to do with the wisdom her role demands.
"Anyway, I'm sure you have already identified the benefits you would gain from a positive response, Nera Signora. When Tsunayoshi Sawada takes the lead of the Vongola, he certainly won’t be able to ignore your contribution. You would not be doing a favor to the Vongola right now because Sawada isn’t officially the lead of the family, and yet, one day not too far away, you may still redeem it. And for what, after all? For a temporary bodyguard... nothing that requires an oath of loyalty or an alliance."
He noticed with pleasure that the woman had changed her gaze. While maintaining her iconic composure, she now listened with interest - her blue irises were no longer just a wall concealing clever machinations fueled by the other's words, but now they stared intensely at him while her back moved away from the antique armchair. The faint light that managed to penetrate the room was dim enough to give her a spectral appearance, like an ancient statue that naturally inspired reverence in anyone who would look at it, and now that specter was smiling at little Reborn - too experienced with dangerous criminals to be swayed, but still unable to avoid feeling suffocated by the cold and unwavering gaze of the mistress of the manor.
"The offered amount satisfies you, right?"
"Yes, although I don't make much use of money. I aspire to a currency that becomes more valuable than gold, once in the hands of the mafia..."
Secrets, the guest thought, that's why you are dangerous, no matter how much you claim to be 'eternally neutral’.
"... and anyways, the girl knows well that the opportunities to please me have run out long ago for her. If she has any shred of common sense left, she will make sure to bring back …something worth our trouble, at the very least."
Reborn shuddered at the thought, but found the logic behind those words to be flawless: they were risking a lot by letting one of their subordinates in the hands of another family, there was no way they’d ignore the opportunity to use her presence among the Vongola to their advantage. The Nono… I have faith in him but whatever the reason behind his request is, I hope it was pondered.
The woman turned to her son, who continued to stare intensely at the black fedora-wearing assassin. She smiled again, and her left hand encased in her satin glove tightened around his arm, mimicking a gesture that, if it weren't for the gloomy room and her venomous manners, could have been considered motherly. "You don't seem to agree with my generous acts, dear."
The young man named Tristam seemed to startle, his stream of concerns disturbed by the Signora's voice. He immediately recomposed himself, sighing and running his black silky hair back as he spoke:
"Is it that obvious? Goodness, I need to improve my facial mimicry studies."
"I agree with your sentiment. You know it well: even the slightest blink can reveal the most important secrets..."
"Spare me, mother," he interrupted, "I don't agree, but your judgment is still absolute, and I can't prevent any decision... not even the silliest ones like this."
Having said that, he abruptly stood up, freeing himself from the Signora's grip, and walked briskly towards the large door of the dark room before stopping and turning towards the two still sitting there.
"Forgive me, but it is evident that my presence here is only excessive, and my opinion is just a waste of breath. Mother, while you deal with this pathetic messenger, I'll return to my studies. As for you, Arcobaleno... one day, I will be the one to speak with you, and it won't go as smoothly."
The young man grabbed the golden handles and opened the solid doors so quickly that his cloak and hair billowed from the rush of air as he crossed the threshold into the corridor. Along with the voices of two confused guards outside the room, a bright light came in, distinctly different from the one reserved for the room they were in. The lady immediately ordered the door to be closed, and that moment of relief from the ghastly atmosphere of their negotiations quickly vanished. "How old is he, Signora?" he asked looking back at her, noticing that she had not abandoned her expression of gloomy indulgence.
"He has graced our family with his presence for fifteen wonderful years and becomes more formidable every day," she replied, and her lips parted for the first time since their encounter revealing her teeth, which almost shone compared to the black lipstick. Only the steady nerves of the little assassin prevented shivers from running down his spine.
"Must have been a bit of teenage angst, then."
"Don't talk nonsense, Reborn. Tristam is a prodigy, the result of years of sacrifices by the Cavalieri family and myself, and my most precious treasure. If you had the prince of the world in front of you, with such authority... wouldn't you allow him to exercise it too? Can't you perceive his natural superiority?"
Once again, he thanked the Ninth for the precautionary advice he had given him before his departure and relied on his steel nerves to control his own reactions. He immediately understood the woman's intentions behind those cryptic words: it was a provocation. To his knowledge, too many names had fallen into the temptation of discovering the activities and ambitions of this family, and none of them had come back to tell what they had learned with their own voice. The words of the Nera Signora of the Cavalieri, considered a master in the art of oratory and negotiations, had the sole purpose of luring Reborn into a trap and getting him to know more; a single question about the young heir would make him aware of extremely sensitive information, making him a target for the Cavalieri, masters in covering up anything that would tarnish their reputation. Those who fell into the trap were considered ‘indebted’ for the knowledge acquired, and it wouldn’t have taken them long before someone came to ‘collect’ it. He certainly didn't fear a violent retaliation against him – he knew well that their usual methods of collecting debts were ineffective against a professional killer like him – but he couldn't risk endangering Tsuna more than necessary, especially with such shady individuals. He smiled again, silently challenging the serpentine gaze of the Lady with innocent serenity.
"I'll take your word for it; he seems like a fine young man."
The woman remained silent, raising her head slightly to look down at him, while her sneer loosened to return to her usual self-control. During Tristam's speech, her back had moved away from the armchair, probably leaning further towards her prey in an attempt to influence him, but now she leaned back; she rested her elbows on the soft armrests: the target was just as cunning as her, and the attack had failed.
"So, are we in agreement, Signora?"
"I would say so, but where is our share?"
"In the briefcase that your subordinates collected from me during the search at the entrance. Since the money is already in your hands, I request permission to leave immediately."
"Go. The sooner you take her away, the better. Inform her that she won't be able to take any personal effects with her; she'll leave with only what she's wearing."
It makes sense, he thought, they're afraid of even the slightest information leaking about them... what a bunch of paranoids. He realized that his time for the audience was running out, so he spoke again: "Only two more things before I go."
A momentary veil of displeasure fell over the eyes of the woman, who was already well on her way to grab her cane, and she remained silent with her body leaning forward, indicating that the negotiations were already closed for her, and this interruption was not appreciated.
“You mentioned she has a lesson to learn. I must warn you that I don’t intend on taking on any more students – I have enough in my hands with the future Vongola Decimo.”
“You misunderstand me, cursed child. I simply meant this will be a wonderful opportunity for her. How generous of me, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps she’ll finally come to her senses, and see what I’ve been trying to teach her… that she’s hopeless. Expendable. That she serves me so little purpose that I have no worries over her taking a stroll outside. You too will see how unfit to live with other people Myriam is: just as much she’s unfit to be my daughter.”
Now that the negotiations were over, Reborn could sense that the Eighth Cavalieri was finally putting aside her excessive solemnity to reveal something more akin to her true thoughts. He found her sudden change disgusting, but at the same time… reassuring. If the daughter’s resentment had been even half as intense as her mother’s disdain for her, that could have greatly worked to the Vongola’s advantage. Still, he could barely repress condemning such harsh words: he had reached his objective, it was time for him to cut it short.
“My apologies for assuming. Then, onto the next matter… in case Myriam shows resistance or signs of non-cooperation, am I authorized to kill her?"
"What an absurd question," she replied annoyed, abandoning her cordial demeanor completely—although it was evident to the guest how fake it had been from the beginning. "Of course you can. In fact, you must. It would spare us the inconvenience of having to reintegrate her upon her return. Ah! But I must insist, it's best if the body is recovered and brought back here, preferably by my subordinates. It's a bad omen, to have the dead far from their homeland..."
At the edge of the Cavalieri estate, far from the gloomy atmosphere of home, a young girl dozed off at the foot of a pine tree, lulled by the tranquility of nature surrounding her. The day was gray, but the remnants of August made that September particularly mild, and the greenery of the woods still infused her with a serenity impossible to attain within the loathsome walls of the manor. She laid on her back, having fell into slumber while watching the clouds pass through the branches, one of the few pastimes that truly brought her calm.
The only sounds were the last few birds who had yet to find a place to spend the cold seasons, and the pines combed by the wind. She had yet to eat that day: the pantry was too well guarded for her to steal anything, and she wasn’t in the mood for more detention that week. Whenever that’d happen, she’d go rest in the deeper parts of the manor’s surrounding forest to try and ignore the hunger, and wait for her designated lunch hour.
Her mind was still on the border between sleep and wakefulness when she was disturbed by an unusual yet friendly greeting from an unfamiliar voice:
"Ciaos!”
The girl opened her eyes, expecting to see someone observing her from above, but there were only branches and clouds above her. Initially perplexed, she convinced herself that the voice was simply an auditory hallucination caused by drowsiness, and reassured herself that she could return to bask in that solitary and undisturbed peace. She closed her eyelids and turned to her left, wishing only to rest.
"Get up, Myriam. Do you want to stay trapped in here for much longer?"
"That's not my name!"
Upon hearing her full name she snapped in anger, pivoting on her arm to raise her torso, and was already on her knees, ready to stand up when she noticed that the stature of the impertinent speaker did not require such effort. In front of her, on the side she had turned to for rest, stood a child dressed in a black jacket and tie, with a wide-brimmed hat also black and bordered in orange. His big black eyes stared at her as he smiled, contrasting with the perplexed expression on Myriam’s face.
"I’d… prefer to be called Myr…" she murmured as she returned to resting her knees on the ground, her nervous reaction subsiding.
The stranger nodded. "As you wish."
Myr noticed that the child was not simply staring at her, but seemed to be scanning her with meticulous curiosity, briefly pausing to look at different points on her. After responding, he shook his head to get a better view of her shoulders, muttering under his breath.
"You're strong for your age. Mainly train your shoulders and arms, do you? Muscles of a javelin thrower, a solid back... perhaps your legs need a little boost. You might not be the favorite daughter, but one would say they make you work hard.”
Despite the shrill tone of a child no older than ten, the sentence construction, posture, and movements were completely foreign to his form, and Myr did her best to contain her confusion, especially after a comment that indicated at least some knowledge of her situation.
"Huh? N-No, they don’t – maybe once. It's been a while since I... I mean, I am self-taught or the most, you know."
"Better that way. I like people who can fend for themselves."
He extended his tiny hand, looking up at her still beaming, and Myr did the same, albeit with less enthusiasm. "My name is Reborn, and I'm a professional killer. You have ten minutes to prepare before going to Japan for at least six months."
“Professional… what? Japan? Six mo- ok, wait. Hold on.”
The oddities finally crossed the threshold of the girl's tolerance, causing her to release his hand. Instead of standing up, she sat cross-legged to be able to look him in the eye, squinting.
“Is this a joke?”
“You think I’d waste my time and patience visiting you snakes for a joke? I was sent here for you.”
Her frowning soon changed to wide-eyed shock, but her amazement faded just as quickly as the weight of reality set in.
"Listen... Reborn. The idea is …nice, I guess, but… there’s no way this can happen. I have no idea how you found me or how you got here, but I assure you that they wouldn't let me leave, not even with the army at the gates."
"Well, seems like money is more significant than the army for your mother then."
Just when she thought that nothing could surprise her anymore, her heart skipped a beat with an unfamiliar emotion, causing her torso to lean forward so much that she had to support herself with her hands on the ground. "My...! You spoke to my mother? You?"
"Yes. You've been hired. I got permission for you to come with me to Japan. Shall we go now?"
Those words seemed to not process in her brain. Myr remained silent with her eyes wide open, perhaps waiting to wake up from a dream or to hear mocking laughter in the background, thinking it was a cruel joke played by one of her family members.
"And here I thought you’d be up and running before I even finished my offer.”
"You're just messing with me."
Myr lowered her head and rested her elbows on her knees, overwhelmed by the strangeness of that conversation. "My mother hates me, but she would never let me leave the Cavalieri. I have no idea how you managed to get in here and talk to her, but my fate is to rot in here, Reborn. Hired for what? They don't even consider me good enough for advanced training, let alone a trip."
"I could make it happen, that's all. I'll explain the details later. Besides, you'll have six whole months to mope like a child.”
"Nah, not buyin’ it. They must have paid to do some dirty work for that old bitch. And besides, how the hell would you take me to Japan?! You're just a..."
"Oh, this is troublesome. You remind me of my clumsy student."
A sudden gust of air shook her out of her brief depressive episode, and before she could figure out what had caused it, an unidentified weight fell violently from above, followed by a painful lash on the back of her neck, so powerful that it made her lean forward from her seated position and end up lying on the ground with her feet in the air. As she spat and coughed out the dust she had inhaled when landing on the ground, she sensed something landing just behind her and turned around in astonishment to see Reborn wiping his jacket as if after a recent effort.
"Ow! Eugh! What was that?!"
"Sorry, force of habit," replied the small hitman, looking back at her. "My student often says things like that, and I can't stand it. I have to hit him often, or he ends up acting like a wimp."
"What kind of teacher – No, who the hell are you?!"
"I told you: I'm a professional assassin. Should I prove it by killing you?"
As he continued to tidy himself up, he swiftly extracted something from his jacket and pointed it at Myr. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was staring at the barrel of a gun aimed directly at her forehead, and the combination of his quick reflexes, the seriousness of his words, and his paradoxical appearance made her feel doomed as if she were facing a ruthless adult killer.
"...but for some time now, I've also been working as a private tutor, and my student is a real loser."
The gun in Reborn's hand, once solid and realistic, began to dissolve before Myr's defeated eyes until it turned into a shapeless slime. The sludge first turned greenish, only for it to reveal two yellow spheres cut by a narrow iris; gradually, two little legs, a head, and a reptilian tail emerged, until an entire flat-bodied chameleon materialized on his hand.
Myr observed the process with renewed astonishment, crawling towards it. Reborn noticed her change of mood, and gently patted the animal's head, which seemed to smile in the same way he did.
"Let me introduce you to Leon. He can change shape at will."
“He’s… he’s cool! Can I have one too?!”
“No. He’s my partner.”
“Aww…”
The aura of danger that the little intruder had emitted just moments before had dissipated. He wasn't simply a strange child with homicidal tendencies; that was just his appearance. He was undoubtedly a special person, a messenger from the outside world that had always been closed off to her and on which she had completely given up. So accustomed to living among lies, she couldn’t initially grasp his nature, and automatically searched for a trick that wasn't there. It was Leon’s transformation that had struck her in particular, because it convinced her that Reborn’s intention wasn’t to lure her out with empty promises, but had shown himself for who he was from the start, revealing his abilities, his identity and even his weapon.
Having realized the authority of the person in front of her, Myr decided, as a sign of respect, that it was appropriate to stand up and speak to him as an adult, and so she did:
"I apologize, Reborn. You’re clearly something, and I don’t think you’re lying to me anymore, but I have several questions."
The assassin didn't seem displeased by her gesture of respect, but upon hearing her words, he shook his head and extended his hand, showing three raised fingers.
"I don't like lengthy explanations. I'll grant you only three, then you’ll come with me to Japan."
"Oh, good grief! What kind of teacher are you if you don't explain stuff?"
"One who prefers field exercises. You have two questions left."
"Eh?!"
Myr quickly realized that justifications wouldn't work against such inflexibility. She gritted her teeth feeling mocked, but had to admit that it was yet another proof of his frankness, and ultimately chose to focus on sorting through the countless doubts that plagued her to determine which answers she truly needed. She could only wonder about how he could have possibly known which base the Nera Signora was currently residing in, what exorbitant amount he had to offer in exchange for her services, how much he knew about her combat abilities, or if he was even aware of them. What did she absolutely need to know in order to decide whether to leave her home and the Cavalieri family, or to remain behind the black gates at the mercy of a predetermined fate? What could dissuade her? What challenges could have possibly made her yearn to turn back?
None at all.
She remained silent, her fists clenched in the effort. She had no real reason to refuse, and in the hurry of the moment, she thought she had nothing and no one to lose.
Anywhere. I want to be anywhere but here.
Reborn had not yet withdrawn his arm. She ran her fingers through her long black hair to remove fallen leaves and addressed him decisively, once again driven by the unfamiliar sensation she felt in the face of the promise of something akin to freedom:
"What will my task be?"
"Bodyguard. You will have to protect my student - nothing more, nothing less."
"And who is your student?"
"Sawada Tsunayoshi, the future tenth boss of the Vongola Family."