Chapter Text
Reborn comes to in his private sleeping quarters, filled with the overwhelming sense of dread and the need to protect him, protect them-
And the sweat slides off of his forehead but his hands- his hands- are shaky when they reach up to wipe it off. Reborn clenches his tiny fist into the soft cotton of his sheets and remembers with vivid recollection the last thing they had clutched.
The clock on his bedside table reads that it’s half past four in the morning, and figures he might as well get up now. Leon doesn’t question his behavior; instead, the lizard curls up tighter into the re-Arcobaleno. Tugging his hair into some semblance of order and picking up the miniature, discarded suit from atop his desk, Reborn makes his way to the small mirror hanging on the wall.
He’s-
Small.
(Again.)
And with scorn raging as hot as the sun, Reborn lets his frustrations bubble and churn inside of his tiny form. His flames are now bound once more, just as is his freedom, and Reborn would feel hate. But before that, he has someone- the one- to visit, to see if the intense pull in his gut is anything to go by.
He doesn’t cross paths with any of the other Arcobalenos currently stationed in their joint hideaway, and that’s probably for the best. It’s going to be a long plane ride to his destination, and Reborn can’t wait .
Stepping onto Namimori soil is like coming home.
It’s welcoming and comforting in a way his childhood home had never been, and stuck in the crevices of space and time, Reborn can’t help the small smile that worms its way onto his face. He takes small, silent comforts when he can, and right now Reborn feels he deserves it.
Leon rubs into the juncture where his too-small neck and chest meet, and Reborn can’t help the small surge of hope that wells in his chest.
It’s one thing to see the sky clear, but it’s quite another to see a dead man walking. Technically everyone in this damned town shouldn’t be alive, but it still puts Reborn into a slightly better mood to see people roaming about their lives. He gets stuck on a telephone pole when a familiar touch of black hair runs past him on the street below, and the juvenile sense of glee he gets when they trip (and catch themself) makes him cringe internally. The heart of Namimori is but a child at the moment, it seems.
Being so close to the people who had made it into his student’s chosen guardian group makes him both surprisingly on edge and surreptitiously warm.
Judging by the child’s apparent age, he can guess that his student would be around eight years old at the moment. The thought makes his stomach flutter uncomfortably, especially when he wonders if his student’s mind is the same age.
He’s almost reached the house that has been on his mind for the past seventeen hours when he shudders to a stop. On the edge of his senses, Reborn can feel the absence of his student’s presence keenly. It seems the hitman is too late to have stopped the seal to deny his student’s flames from bursting, and even though he knows where to acquire the materials necessary to bring them out, Reborn is dimly aware of a muted sense of fury erupting beneath his skin.
Leon licks a stripe up the side of the Arcobaleno’s face, which spurs him back into action.
His footsteps are soundless, as always, when Reborn crosses the street in order to come face to face with the house he’s set his intense gaze on. There’s not much to it; it’s a plain house, on a plain street, in a plain neighborhood, with (supposedly) plain occupants.
But when his student, small and squeamish-looking when he peeks his head out of the doorway, turns his gaze on Reborn, something clicks on.
Reborn doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see a smile in his life.
(Nor has he ever smiled so hard in his life.)