Sorry for the late update! Assignments at school are overbearing. Enjoy:)

And I never have any remorse for Hibari's actions haha.

Kyoko was already aware of them when they started stalking towards the household, yet she kept up with her usual façade of a sweet smile and an oblivious mind. They were almost through the window; she could figure from the nauseating crunching of the bones and organs, despite the loud music that Hana had blasted earlier.

She knew that action was one of Hana's disguises to conceal herself, to let down the guards of her potential enemies. Even the usual way she talked or the fact that she seemed to care about her nails more than anything else or the act of always heading to makeup stores after school, they were all disguises.

Kurokawa Hana was cunning, Kyoko knew. Best friends they definitely were, yet there was an unspoken distance between both of them. Such was Namimori. She looked on blankly with her usual smile as Hana carefully shifted the handgun from her schoolbag to the back of her jacket. She heard flesh tumbling on mats. They were here.

Sighing, she put down her cup.

Hana was aware Kyoko always had poison in her pockets. She was also aware of that thin grotesque stickman figures that inched like the dead towards Kyoko's household. She said nothing on them however. After all, she had a disguise to maintain. She looked to the windows, palm against her chin and acted not hear the sound of metal objects Kyoko was shifting using her arms.

Sasagawa Kyoko was deadly, Hana knew. Best friends she called them, but she always was unsure when Kyoko might strike against her. Best friends, for the sake of an unspoken agreement that one party should not harm the other. She knew the girl had mastered her hands with poison. She knew that Kyoko's hands were covered with a layer of fake skin. She also knew how it looked like underneath those skins. She saw shadows crawling against the white walls.

Muttering, she stroked her hair with the other free hand.

'Kyoko!" Ryohei shouted, a mixture of anger and anxiety apparent in his voice. Tsuna could see his pupils dilating a little and lifted his arm to prevent the boxer from acting anymore wildly.

"Ryohei. All is good. Would you not ahead of us? There is one hostile just a little over a few metres. He plays the Yo-yo. You remember him, don't you?" Tsuna then said so coolly, so monotonously, so devoid of emotion, so unlike what Ryohei had ever seen of him (because Tsuna never had called him 'Ryohei') that the older could not help but only shudder and nod.

"Then I'll see you there to the extreme…Sawada!" Ryohei grinned, yet his voice sounded a little strained.

"Nii-san, Kyoko-chan will be fine." Tsuna resumed smiling. It will be alright. Hence, do not question me. There always was an air of authority and the other was once again reminded how Tsuna earned his respect.

"Yeah! I'll be done to the extreme when you get there!"

"What is this? You seem rather flippant." Bird said, looking rather wary. Perhaps he might had sensed a little of the silent unnoticeable yet venomous aura of the Sky's pure seething wrath. He had done nothing to stop Ryohei and only let the aspiring boxer to run ahead.

"Watch, foolish mutt." Kyoya pointed at the screen, a condescending smirk-if one would put it in that manner- graced his features.

Bird turned. The man starting to feel a little pressured and as when he saw what took place, his eyes widened.

It took four seconds.

The Bloody Twins, or what was supposed to be them, laid on the ground in pieces of flesh, body matter, blood and bones. He saw the girl with a gun and another girl with a white small packet tucked between her fingertips, quickly retracting them altogether. They proceeded to go back to their tea-table despite it being a little red and wet, to continue their afternoon tea session.

"Mukuro-sama, w-what are these p-people?" He croaked faintly, as he stiffly shuffled himself around. He saw one of the yellow birds he owned settling onto Tsuna's finger and the boy not caring to look at him one bit. A trail of cold perspiration ran down the side of his temples. Ah, Bird figured, he was shaking like the lost children he always tortured then.

The last thing he saw was metal and cruel purple eyes, the last thing he heard was the sickening crack of his skull.

Reborn looked up, feeling slightly amiss. Bovino Lambo was nothing too dangerous to note, though Reborn had to reluctantly admit, the boy had gotten better control and power over his lightning flames.

"I-Pin, tell your master that it pays to be a bit patient and… you had not told that stupid cow anything, did you?" Reborn shook his head as he slipped his gun back into his pocket. I-Pin shook her head.

"I-Pin understands. I-Pin will go." The Chinese girl looked a little forlorn and confused, before disappearing quickly. Reborn momentarily wondered why, though at least the brat did not seem to have an idea about Checkerface. It was then, he saw a device lying beside the unconscious boy- a mobile phone.

Brilliant. He thought.

Reborn picked up the device. It was charred to its core and surely in a non-repairable state, but no matter, Reborn knew. After all, he could always make Verde find a way to restore the internal systems.

As he dangled the broken device between his fingers, he heard rushing footsteps and shifted himself towards the wall. Someone darted from the corner and tripped on the curb. With that, boxes from their hands, which they were carrying came tumbling down on the road. A couple of dresses and costume props were strewn on the ground.

"Owww!" Reborn saw that it was a young girl, presumably about Dame-Tsuna and Kyoko's age. Different schools for sure, the uniform certainly did not reflect Namimori Middle School or Kokuyo Middle School. Brown hair and bright eyes, she had her hair up in a ponytail.

Ah, Midori Middle School- it was the final school in the Namimori district, surprisingly not under Hibari's direct control. Or to be more exact, Reborn mused, Hibari had the weakest control over that area.

The hitman then went over and picked up a mask. He then handed it over to the girl. "Believe you need a helping hand, Miss?"

"Hahi! A foreigner! T-Thank you!" The girl shrieked in surprise with a not so proper pronunciation of the English words. She quickly grappled onto the various clothes and items and stuffing them untidily into the boxes. It was then Reborn caught a glint of silver and bells.

The girl shook her head sheepishly. "Haru is often careless! I apologise deeply-"

"Twenty-faces? I am surprised."

Her movements came to an entire halt, hands in mid-air. "Foreign hitman. Why are you in Namimori?" Haru's voice, or what Reborn decided to go with, was significantly lower.

"Reborn, my name." The man grinned ever so handsomely. The girl looked at him blankly.

"Yes, Reborn-chan. Papa called me here." She laughed girlishly.

Reborn narrowed his eyes. "You're a Miura?"

Haru nodded with a little smile, before resuming to pick up her items. The Miuras were a family of mastering disguises, Reborn had once worked with one of them on a reconnaissance mission. He had never seen the other's true face, wearing different forms of masks every time.

"Hence with this 'encounter', you are hoping to work together?" Reborn said.

"Not work together. Hitman don't work together. We benefit from each other. If you sensed it already, there is a bigger force in Namimori- bigger than Hibari Kyoya, bigger. Both of us need the information- is what Papa said." Haru replied. She stood up, having put all her boxes in place.

Reborn tilted his fedora as Leon peeked his head out from his breast pocket. "Alright. For starters, do you know Sawada Tsunayoshi?"

The man tensed for a moment, hands gripping tighter on black chains, his veins bulging beneath his brown skin. His face set in a scowl and he felt a wet drop trailed down his temple. He could not find any means to smile, he could not almost breathe. Everything felt tight, everything felt constricted.

"Farlo, o ucciderò tutti. Do it or I will kill them all."

What made him thought that the boy was capable of that?

He shuddered at the sudden loss of memory and that when he regained conscious, what laid in front of him were innocent injured students. The back of his neck itched terribly and he laid his palm on the throbbing cut, closing his eyes.

Footsteps. He heard them. Slow and quiet, in a rhythmic motion. There were two approaching he could tell.

Perché non erano paurosi? Why were they not fearful?

Open your eyes, he told himself.

che era predatore e chi era preda? Who is predator and who is prey?

He saw two boys which was rather unexpected. che era predatore e chi era preda?

The taller one with raven black hair and striking grey eyes; the shorter with brown hair and dull orange eyes (that for some reason seemed to see right through him). He saw Bird's yellow bird, settling on the taller's shoulders. Then he saw the red- drip, drip, drip- on the tonfas in tightly gripped palms.

Who…were these children?

"Where is that damn pineapple?" The taller growled like a wild beast.

"I cannot answer. I am just simply here to stop you." He muttered simply, raised his weapon and threw the iron ball.

"Herbivore." The boy's eyes widened, or sharpened and he charged in seemingly mindlessly, snarling. "I'll bite you to death!"