The Lone Mafioso

Gokudera Hayato

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn, just a die hard fan of it :)

"Watch where you're going, kid!"

"Say sorry or you'll be the one sorry!"

"Speak up! What, you got mute with fear?"

Three men surrounded a grey-haired teen, snickering. It had just been their luck to find this lone guy. His handsome face would sell well to rich customers with hobbies.

The lad frowned. "Get out of my way."

"What did you say?"

The grey-haired teen clenched his fist, getting ready to see some blood. He had been pissed off all day as he tried to find some decent job—and all he found was baby-sitting duties to some rich guy's grandson. He's got to join the other bodyguards that the child already has, meeting up with them in a nearby school parking lot. And now these nobodies will make his afternoon suck too.

Suddenly, there was a small yelp followed by an irritated grunt. Like dominos, one of the men had lost his balance and fell towards one of his colleagues, who in turn fell towards the other. And the first domino to topple over was a small boy about seven years in age, rubbing his head of brunette hair.

"That hurt, kid!" the first man to fall over yelled, rubbing his shin. "What the hell do you have for a head?"

The child blinked innocently, his bright brown eyes teary with pain. He looked at the men, fear creeping into his eyes, but then he saw the grey-haired teen, and his head tilted slightly.

Another frown formed on the teen's face. "What do you want?"

The child brought both of his hands towards the teen. He oddly has seven rings on his fingers. He beamed, his smile as bright as a fair sky. The teen's eyebrows rose. He hated children to the core, but he was attracted by the child's smile like it was something giving him comfort, having someone as an inspiration.

One of the men grinned. "You seem to know each other." He made to grab the small child but the kid had run to the teen, coincidentally avoiding the man's grasp. The brown-haired boy clung to the teen's shirt, still smiling as if he finally found what he had long been looking for.

The older man gritted his teeth. The small kid was cute, and in addition to the handsome teen and those authentic-looking rings on the child's fingers, their organization's profit will increase especially with their illegal export business.

"Catch them and we'll take them to the boss!" the man told his colleagues.

The three rushed the younger two, but the teen flicked his hand, grabbed the kid by the waist with the other hand, and ran as fast as he can. Dynamites whirled slowly in the air, falling towards the targets. And then, there were explosions.

…

…

…

The teen collapsed by the overgrown bushes in an abandoned park, letting go of the kid. There were dirty old tires that had gathered rainwater, trash scattered, swings that were broken and forgotten, and rusted monkey bars.

The sky was orange with sunset. There were also clouds that threatened to pour rain, crackling with lightning. The sun sunk lower, slowly turning the horizon red. Their breaths misted with the cold.

The little one watched all these and then looked up. A white bird fluttered down his shoulder, its eyes orbs of bright purple. He patted its head with a finger.

"I thought I lost you," the boy whispered to the bird. "Thanks!"

The bird chirped before it flew away again.

"Heh! What a day! I never thought I'll be stuck with a kid like you," the teen said, ruffling his own hair with a look of annoyance on his face. He looked at his watch. "Crap! I'm going to be late!"

"Are you going somewhere?" the little boy asked. He ran to hold the hem of the older boy's jacket. "I'm going with you!"

"Let go of me, kid!" Nobody trio did not spoil his day; this kid will.

Someone grabbed the little boy's shoulders. "You're not going anywhere."

"HIIIEEE!" exclaimed the small boy. The newcomer behind him was different from the trio before. He had sharp-looking eyes and a malicious grin. He was wearing a tuxedo and had a gun tucked at his belt, clearly a Mafioso.

"Found you, brat," the man said. "Now I can have—"

When he heard the small boy's scream, the teen punched him on the face as if on impulse, which surprised the man into letting go of the little one and losing balance. The teen was about to run with the kid when the man grabbed his shin. He also lost balance and fell on his knees.

"Let go of me, bastard!" yelled the teen, kicking the man on the face. But the grip tightened.

"No," the man insisted. "Give that brat to me!"

The teen turned to the kid. "Run! Leave this place!"

He was surprised with himself: he suddenly wanted to save the small child, to protect that bright smile, even though they just happened to meet a few minutes ago. But the child grabbed his hand instead, shaking his head vigorously.

"I won't leave you!" the little one said. "There's still something that I must—!"

A white bird landed on the pursuer's arm. Its eyes seemingly glinted maliciously for a while, meeting the child's brown ones. And then it began to peck the older man's hand, which finally let go of the teen's leg. The kid pulled on the teen's hand, though without much help. They ran, this time the kid on the lead.

The two entered some alleys, ducked through doors of abandoned buildings and crossed some empty street. The way was getting more and more unfamiliar to the teen even though he spent a lot of his time walking around the city. Finally, they stopped as the teen tried to catch his breath. They were in some lakeside, surrounded by some rundown houses and buildings.

"Where are we?" the teen asked.

"I have no idea…" the little kid said, not breathing heavily at all. He looked up to the teen, eyes sparkling. "But I think we've lost them."

A white fluffy object drifted down the small child's cheek. The boy touched it and it melted at the heat of his fingers.

"Snow!" he exclaimed as more floated down from the darkened sky. He raised his arms up, trying to catch more of the frozen flakes. He ran as he tried to get a particularly large one but he tripped on own legs. The teen caught him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his breath misting. The small boy leaning towards him tilted his head to one side and proceeded to remove the scarf around his neck to place on the teen's shoulders.

"I'm fine," the boy replied. His smile brought warmth to anyone's heart.

A chain jangled on the little boy's neck. It surprisingly has more rings than ones the boy had on his fingers. A particular ring caught the teen's attention, one with the face of a cat that seemed to growl at the his direction. The other boy noticed what the teen had been looking at.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" the little child exclaimed. "I should give you—HIEEEEE!"

The child froze in fright. The teen already knew why as he felt something cold press against the back of his head and heard a click.

"Don't move." It was the man who had once grabbed his own leg a few minutes ago. A gun was pointed at the teenager's skull. "Give me the boy or you'll see your own blood flowing from your sorry body."

More guns clicked; the man had brought his friends.

"What do you want with him?" asked the teenager. "He's just a brat."

"A brat, indeed," the man said and burst out laughing. "Do you not recognize the rings on his hands? Don't tell me you hold that child not for those treasures!"

"What are you talking about?" The teen saw the rings. Somehow they felt nostalgic, with a familiar inscription on them that felt to be tugging in his mind. But he didn't care. He faced the gun while moving his hands unnoticed. The mouth of the gun was just between his eyes yet he looked fearless. "I don't care if he's a brat or if those rings he holds are worth billions. I will protect him and follow his leadership. He is my…my—!"

Dynamites exploded, one which the teen had thrown earlier as he faced the gun. It distracted the men for a moment, giving the teen the change to slip away. But he wasn't very lucky that day. A bullet caught him on his leg, making him curse with pain.

"Operation X," came a calm voice. The teen looked up with expectation, and then looked lower when he learned that it was just the little boy who spoke. The little one's voice was hard and commanding, very different from the usual shrill tone. "Gokudera-kun, get down."

He has his right hand towards the pursuers while emitting unbelievably large flames from his left hand which was pointed behind his back. He possessed the rare flame attribute of Sky, the boss flame that was burning evidently on his forehead.

"X-burner!" the boy yelled. A large quantity of crystal clear, high-grade Sky flames shot towards the pursuers, melting their guns and blazing on their skins. They fainted, smoking and charred black.

The flame on the child's forehead went out as he sighed. And then he immediately ran to the teenager, who was still lying on his stomach on the ground. Not even huffing after releasing all those flames, the little boy asked the older, "Are you alright, Gokudera-kun?"

The teen stared at the small boy, frowning with suspicion. "How did you know my name?"

"Ah!" came the little boy's reaction as he realized that the name had just slipped out twice.

Tires screeched. Black cars arrived, looking identical to each other, their lights shining brightly and illuminating the spot where the teenager Gokudera and the little boy were. More men in tuxedos poured out of the vehicles, pointing their guns at Gokudera's direction.

"No way…" Gokudera said, shielding his eyes from the sudden light. "There are more of them?"

"Move away from the child," one of the men ordered Gokudera. "Now!"

The teen froze. They were more than his dynamites could handle, more organized and more bloodthirsty than the ones who came before. He forced his mind to work even with the pain from his leg: he should try tripling the bombs to take out at least a portion of the Mafioso who just came. Or maybe igniting all the gunpowder he had on his body, as long as the child could escape.

Gokudera raised his eyebrows. Now, what's happening to him? He turned to the child who looked fearful and not at all aware of the situation. He wondered why in the world he would think of saving the brat.

Suddenly, the fear in the child's face turned into an unexpectedly determined expression.

"Wait!" the boy yelled, his shrill voice heard by all. "Please don't hurt this person!"

Gokudera and the rest looked at the child in silent surprise. Immediately, a car door opened. Its sound was seemingly loud to the ears of everyone present. A man in his 70's got out of his car and approached the small child even with protests from some of the men.

Gokudera saw the face of the old man. It was none other than the boss of the strongest and most influential Mafia family: the Godfather, Vongola Ninth. Yet the little boy did not seem to be afraid of him.

"He isn't doing any harm!" exclaimed the child, his eyes bright with unfaltering honesty. Vongola Ninth knelt in front of him and ruffled his hair.

"Is that so?" Vongola Ninth smiled. Kindness and understanding were evident on his face. "Then we'll do as you say, Tsunayoshi-kun."

The boss signaled to his subordinates to lower their guns, much to the surprise of the men.

The boy smiled. "Thank you, Grandpa!"

"Grandpa?" Gokudera repeated, watching the Vongola boss pick up the small boy.

"He saved me from those trying to kidnap me," the boy said proudly, indicating the burnt and smoking men.

There was a sound of realization somewhere in the group of men. "Ah, Gokudera?"

"Oh, you." The teen's expression soured. It was the man who hired him to take care of a rich man's grandson and… It finally dawned to Gokudera as he raised a finger to point at the little boy. "You're—"

Vongola Ninth continued to ruffle the little boy's hair. "He's Sawada Tsunayoshi, the Vongola Tenth."

But the boy was busily removing a ring from his finger and from the chain that hung from his neck. He smiled as he reached over and handed the two rings to Gokudera. "These are yours."

It was the Vongola Storm Ring and the ring with the head of a cat.

There was a sound of fluttering wings.

And Gokudera finally remembered.