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THE HAND YOU'RE DEALT

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I do not own Katekyo Hitman REBORN, I do however own this story and the characterisation of Agatha.

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SIOFC!Gokudera, Slash/Het... Kinda? I was a mind that remembered more than one life. Physically born as a boy, mentally reawakened as a woman. I am Gokudera Hayato, please call me Aya. Trigger warning: Transphobia, Self-harming

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CHAPTER ONE
Namimori

Why was I doing this again?

I sighed as I hefted my backpack up, tugging my ponytail free, and meandered my way through Narita Airport.

Ah, yes, it was a 'job' given to me by the Arcobaleno of the Sun – because that was a thing. Refusing a 'job' from an Arcobaleno. Pfft, like doing so wasn't a delayed execution order at best. That, and my mother had been half-Japanese, I wanted to see the country of her birth and whether or not I could track down any of her remaining family, family worth meeting.

That was why I was doing this.

Reclaiming my suitcase, I rubbed my face and followed the tide of humanity through the polished metal corridors to the Exit where I flagged down one of the rare taxis of Japan.

"Where to, Ojosan?" the driver asked politely in English as I got myself settled in the backseat, seatbelt clipped in.

"Namimori, please, hotel or Ryokan, a cheap one if you can swing it," I requested in Japanese, there was a very high-chance I wouldn't be here for long.

"We'll be there in two hours. It'll roughly be eighty-thousand yen though," the driver explained a little apologetically.

"I am aware, thank you for your concern. Don't worry about it," I assured him as I settled back deeper into my seat with a sigh, his response washing over me as we peeled away from the taxi bay.

Intellectually, I knew I would someday have to come here. I had fears that I both would, and wouldn't. After all, I was not actually Hayato Gokudera, even though I was in his body, had grown up as him, was born as him. I was not... It is difficult to explain, even more so by the fact that I don't exactly know what happened myself.

You see, I was a mind that remembered more than one life.

Whether I merely slipped through some cosmic gap in reality, or if reincarnation was actually what awaited the dead was not something I knew. It wasn't as if I was completely aware of this as an infant, cognizant while within the womb or during my birth. No. The human brain, incredible though it is, could not handle something like that.

To me, as an infant, I would have quite possibly liquidated by own brain by accident or overstressed it to such a degree it shut down, turned myself into a vegetable. I did not slide, wet, screaming, and red into this world with the memories of my past life and the mind of a twenty five year old woman. I was born a frightfully intelligent infant who developed mentally far faster than the doctors, my mother, or my father, had believed was possible. I was a happy child. A blank slate. Or rather... a blank-page that someone had laid over my past life. The colours and lines faintly visible, but washed out through the fresh clean start of my new life. It was less that I was a genius as my father would crow to anyone listening, but more that I already knew what I was doing, I just needed to remember.

I was five when that blank sheet of paper was burned and torn away from me with such sudden ferocity and violence that I very nearly lost myself to my own memories. My old life.

I was five when a rival Famiglia abducted both myself and my older sister as we played at the edges of the manor-grounds. She was eight and tried her hardest to protect me, only they hit her hard enough to knock her unconscious, and then that blank page was ripped away and I grabbed the gun out of his hand – levelled it at his throat, and thumbed the safety off. In my previous life, I had learned how to use guns and firearms from my father and my older brother. And in this life, my older sister was in danger.

I squeezed the trigger, and put a bullet through our would-be-abductor's throat.

That was went our father appeared, bundling both myself and my sister up in his arms and rushing us back to the manor where his private Doctor looked us over. I spent weeks near enough catatonic, trying to digest the events that had just happened to me. I suffered from constant migraines that had the Doctor rather worried as my brain scans were off the charts trying to assimilate an extra twenty years into my five-year-old brain.

I was born in Motherwell, Scotland. My name had been Agatha, Aggie for short. My mum had been an older woman when I was born, my Dad even older. The last attempt at a family before my mother became too old. Even back then, as Aggie, I had been frightfully clever. My Dad believed that any day you didn't learn something new was a day that you had wasted your time. He grew up without an education and poured every last disposable coin to his name on my education. I didn't want to let him down, or my mum who had also been deprived of education. So I worked hard. I went to London to study at university.

And got caught in a terrorist bombing.

I died in an explosion.

And now... Physically, I was existing within the body of the Hurricane Bomb, Gokudera Hayato.

An individual I had become acquainted in my youth as a character in a comic book. A criminal who blew other people up, killed them with explosions.

There had to have been a kind of irony in there.

Mentally, I was female. Physically I was male.

My name was Hayato Gokudera, Aya preferably, I had an older sister by the name of Bianchi, and I had killed a man at the age of five.

When all this information finally settled into my mind, I think I could be forgiven for the hysterical breakdown that followed.

My childhood changed drastically with the outlook of an adult permeating my thoughts and perspectives. Knowing that I was living in a mafia household, the things I witnessed took on a vastly different, and much more unsettling slant. Strange men and women passing in and out of the house, strange cars and shipments, talk in the corridors of reprisals, attacks, shipments, and routes for certain products – product being a word that embittered mind equated to drugs. Because of course a mafia family would be involved in drugs, or guns, or people, or organs, or any other numerable number of illegal substances and products that would be in need of discreet transport.

Having already been acquainted with the character, the revealing of Gokudera Lavina's death and her true relationship with me was not as much of a shock, but the pain that accompanied the discovery of her death was no less sharp. I had very fond memories of the silver haired woman with the pretty smile that so patiently taught me how to play the piano – an ability that I never gave up, nor forgot in the intervening years between then and now. I was lucky enough to be blessed with two amazing and wonderful mothers, simply because one was newer than the other, did not make either of them lesser than the other. But my father, my daddy, would forever be Aggie's father, Wulliam, not Hayato's. That man was far too weak willed, far too easily swayed by the words of others, and while he did love both my sister and I, he didn't know what to do with us and had some very firm ideas on the roles of men and women, civilians and mafioso, in society. And very definite plans on just what my future, and the future of my sister was going to be. Regardless of our thoughts or feelings.

I tried to protect my sister from that poisonous thinking. She was a cute kid, she thought she could do anything, rule the world, climb any mountain, and conquer any challenge. That kind of thinking I wanted her to keep! I didn't want her to end up with that stupid dependency on men later on in her life, that naïve belief that love would conquer all, that love was the only important thing in life. That poisonous kind of thinking that eventually lead a powerful vibrant young woman to sitting around playing House in the Sawada home, taking care of Haru and Kyoko, Lambo and I-pin, instead of being all that she could have been simply because a man who paid her a lick of attention called that place a home. She was better than that. She deserved better than that!

I wasn't as successful as I wanted to be, but I managed to avoid the constant poisoning that the real Gokudera suffered through, I also managed to keep a fairly good relationship with my sister.

Though, quite like canon, I managed to alienate myself from Shamal – but in this instance, I earned his revulsion and disgust at the same time. In perfect honesty, even now, it wouldn't surprise me if that man wanted to see me dead.

I foolishly, naively, confided in the young doctor, looking for reassurance, advice, help, anything. I told him that I felt I was in the wrong body. I went to him in confidence as a doctor and poured my heart out to him, that my body felt wrong, that I didn't want to do the normal things that a boy would do, that I felt too old for my skin, and that I was frightened of what my father would do if he learned about this. Instead of the help I had hoped for, I got the exact opposite.

He outed me to the whole family, practically threw everything I had confided into him right into my father's face, twisted my words into weapons, dropped our family into the toilet and left. My sister finding his room empty when she came to talk to him and found what little was left behind trashed and broken.

Bianchi never forgave him.

Especially when our father changed his behaviour towards me. Of course he did. The moment the rest of the family became aware that I was a 'Faggot Tranny', I may as well have become as welcome as dry rot in our house. My father would come down on me like a tonne of bricks when I showed interest in anything he didn't deem manly, even going so far as to physically strike me on more than one occasion, or turn a blind eye when someone else did so as well. My hair was forcibly cropped short, I wasn't allowed to play the piano any more, I wasn't allowed to play with my sister anymore – the voices of the family that my father paid more attention to than his own children blamed Bianchi and my mother's influence for my 'unnaturalness', blamed me for fucking my sister's head up as she spiralled further and further into depression and mania caused by something that no one seemed willing to explain to me. She began to feed her newly developing Poison Cooking to the staff, accidentally murdering three of them and two members of the family before everyone cottoned onto what was going on. I don't think she even knew what she had done, or why the maids she offered her treats to were no longer in the house, she snuck to me one day and asked what she had done to upset them so much, as they weren't there anymore. I hadn't the heart to tell her about their deaths, or that it was her fault. I lied, I told her they had a family emergency.

I took to carrying antidotes with me as she slipped further and further away into her delusions and fed her deadly creations to others, it always upset her when they 'went away', she didn't understand that she had killed them. It broke my heart to see her get worse and worse and our father do absolutely nothing! Caring more about what clothing I wore, and the length of my hair, and whether or not I was reading appropriately gory, action orientated, filled with tits and female objectification fiction books, instead of the fact that my sister was sick and getting worse and worse with every passing day! The number of people she nearly killed, completely unknowingly, rising with every week. Lives I only just managed to save with the timely administering of said antidotes, antidotes I MADE myself with what I could scrounge up because I hated seeing her so confused and upset by the missing men and women she had grown up with.

The day she poisoned me was the day everything changed.

She hadn't meant to, she didn't even know she had. I hadn't even known she had until the stomach cramps hit me. I managed to down an antidote in time, but my stomach lining was stripped. For the next few days I stayed as quiet and out of the way as possible, wearing baggy comfort clothing and never straying far from the toilets, I felt too rotten to even try in those days.

Then, then, I reached the end of my rope.

The day I overheard my father asking my poor, unwell, deluded sister to cook a special meal filled with Love for me.

The day I overheard my father plot to murder me.

I wonder if the canon Gokudera ever realised this when his father told Bianchi to continue feeding him her poison cooking. I don't think he did. After all, he never felt any ill-will towards said father, save for the death of his mother.

I didn't even wait for dinner-time before I was packing. I was not going to deal with this any more.

I was a grown ass woman, for all that I was an eight year old little boy, I knew how to survive in the world on my own. I packed clothing, money, my papers, and then I left. I took my bicycle from the garage, and I cycled out of the estate through the front gate without pause. And no one looked twice at me, or tried to stop me.

I sent letters back to my sister, but that was the last I ever saw, or heard, of my family ever again. Save perhaps for a glimpse of one of my father's men as they dogged my heels every now and again – never catching up because they were all looking for a little boy. Not the little girl I very quickly began to pretend to be. And when they did look for a little girl, I became a little boy. I was both and yet neither. Both were open to me and I took shameless advantage of it. It kept me below the radar and ahead of those men. But it did, of course, come with its own hazards with the various Famiglias I attempted to join. Once you were in this blood-soaked underworld, leaving was hard, and who else was going to hire an eight year old? No one that was who. Which left more illegal territories to explore if I wanted to put food in my mouth without having to put other things in there as well.

Years later, a dozen failed Famiglia attempts later, here I was.

Namimori.

Fulfilling a 'job' for that Asshole Shamal's friend, the Sun Arcobaleno Reborn. To come and test his student. Though, not quite worded like that, he seemed to be under the impression that I was just like the Gokudera Hayato of canon, and had thus sent the exact same information as he had last time. That if I were to defeat Sawada Tsunayoshi in combat, then I would become a candidate for Decimo within the Vongola. As if I were really that naïve to believe that the most powerful famiglia would ever allow such a thing. As if they would even consider someone like me joining their group. This whole thing was a pile of shit. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get away from this underworld, the reek of blood and death dogging my heels. Several Famiglias had rejected me out of hand, one or two had taken me in, one or two I wished I had never even heard of. Taken into their fold only because one of their higher-ups was 'into' this sort of thing, had a fetish for small children or those people like me who felt that they were in the wrong bodies, the memories had left their scars. I got slaved out, treated like crap, used, and thrown aside when I was no longer useful by those who had decided to take note of my mind. I never got the protection I desired, the acceptance I craved. All because of what I was. All because my mind didn't match my body. And now, now, the bestfriend of the man who destroyed my life, the bastard who crushed me when I put my bleeding heart into his hands, tracked me down. Feeding me yet another bullshit story, a 'job'. Yeah right. A request isn't a request if you can't refuse. And of course, when all was said and done, when I'd tested Sawada to Reborn's satisfaction, I would be let go until they had need of me again, left to flounder and find my own way, or drown – like I had done so many years ago.

I sighed as I opened my eyes to stare out of the taxi window, I would have liked to think he was hoping that Sawada-san's Sky Flame would be powerful enough to draw me in. I knew I was a powerful Storm Flame, I also knew I had a great deal of potential based entirely on the potential of Gokudera Hayato in the canon material. This body was the same, I had his mind – the hardwiring at least – which meant I was just as intelligent, but with the experience and wisdom of an entirely different outlook and an extra decade to direct that intelligence to more productive areas, hence why and how I got slaved out so badly when I was younger, without protection, trying to make my own way in life. But I also knew there was no way that Sawada would ever accept me, it just wasn't going to happen.

And I don't think Reborn was aware of the fact that I was no longer in no way desperate enough for acceptance from anyone to scrape and bow and change who I was.

The question right now was... Did I want to get involved with the future events of the comic? Did I want to get involved with these people's lives, care about them, live with the fear of losing them through my own stupid actions or inactions?

Did I particularly want to get into fights with the likes of Rokudo Mukuro, the VARIA, Millefiore, Byakuran, the Shimon, even the Vindice, and the Arcobaleno of Old?

In all honesty, no, no I didn't.

But could I afford not to? I may not become Sawada's Storm Guardian, or even a member of the Vongola, but things like the Vindice, the Millefiore, that would affect me as well, regardless of whether or not I was working for them. Even Rokudo Mukurou, the Shimon, and the VARIA would affect me as well, if not because Mukurou was trying to destroy the Mafia, or the Shimon erase the Vongola/Daemon Spade take over the Vongola, or the VARIA looking for recruits (they accepted Lussuria, they would have no issue with someone like me, the problem was, I wasn't a killer if I could help it. But I didn't think I would be in any position to refuse them if they offered me a place, I needed the work).

I sighed again and pinched the bridge of my nose. My eyes were aching with exhaustion, I wanted to punch Reborn but I knew that was about as likely as Shamal declaring that I had worth as a human being, or my sister recovering from her mania. I wondered how she was doing...

"Here we go, Namimori's Blue Swallow Ryokan," the Taxi driver announced as we came to a stop.

I blinked, sitting up sharply in surprise, that – had I fallen asleep? The journey should have been two hours, it felt more like two minutes!

"A-ah, yes, of course, let me get my wallet out," I fumbled, pawing over my backpack for it. I must be more tired than I thought I was, the journey had passed in a complete blur.

Paying the patient taxi-driver and giving him a small tip as thanks, I made my way into the Blue Swallow and got myself a room for three weeks (I wasn't ruling anything out, I might end up joining with Sawada-san, and I would need time to look for accommodation and employment in that time, if not, well, I could have myself a pleasant holiday and then move on), thankfully it wasn't a massively exorbitant price, the Driver had been kind enough to take me to a cheap but still nice establishment. I was suddenly extra happy that I had made a point of tipping him. The Blue Swallow was a beautiful place, very traditional. I left my shoes at the entrance and stepped into the slippers with great relief, I loved my sneakers, but slippers were fluffier and just that little bit more comfortable after travelling for what was now clocking up to be sixteen hours. I was served some tea while everything was sorted and given a few snacks, my host kindly explaining that they were specifically served in Ryokan so that people wouldn't faint in the hot baths, which was fairly interesting to know. I thought that was just an anime stereotype.

They got me settled in, with yukata, slippers, and times for meals before showing me to the baths, which I gladly took advantage of, luxuriating in the hot outdoors onsen for a good hour before I finally managed to tear myself out of the gloriously hot water that eased away the travelling aches, and into fresh underclothing and the offered yukata. Dinner was traditional Japanese fair, and a lot of it on many different little plates. All of it delicious, except for the natto, that I steered clear of after the first taste, politely informing my concerned host that it just didn't agree with my palate, but thank you for letting me experience it.

When I got back to my room, I found my futon laid out for me and more towels for a second, moonlit bath. Two baths in one day. Huh, I guess the Japanese really were that anal about cleanliness. I would have to keep that in mind if I did end up staying, which I could see myself doing, if only because it would be easier to get legitimate work here than in Europe. Japan was a lot more lax on how its teens and children were overlooked, they were expected to do chores and take care of themselves and be more independent than in the west.

As I got settled in, I contemplated my next step.

In the canon, Gokudera had enrolled in Namimori and observed Sawada-san for a little while before outright attacking him in a fit of pique. Upon being rescued, he immediately swore loyalty to 'Juudaime' and the Vongola, vowing to protect Sawada-san with his life.

I was not the type of person to go in, bombs blazing first. I wasn't the same kind of hothead that Gokudera was. Should have been. Whatever. But I was angry, surprisingly so, with this whole shitty situation.

I sighed and burrowed myself down into the blankets, maybe I should observe Sawada-san? It would give me a better idea of how to test him later, and potentially make contact with Reborn at the same time to discuss payment – because like hell was I doing this for free. Travel and accommodation in Japan was not cheap.

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The next morning, after a traditional Japanese breakfast, I left the Ryokan to explore the city a bit, find the school. I saw the Disciplinary Committee milling around (and had to stare for a few seconds because HOLY SHIT, those regent hairstyles! They were really real and they somehow managed to extend half a foot in front of their foreheads without drooping, what kind of magic hair spray did you need to do that?) and got a few of them demanding I explain myself, why wasn't I in school, why was I lurking and grouping here, etc, etc. They settled down with the explanation of recently moving to the area and looking into the local schools to decide which one to enrol in. One of them even going so far as to offer me a tour.

Eh, I needed to get into the building anyway. I accepted the offer and was escorted through the building by about four of the Committee who were determined to show me everything and – oh god, they were flirting. I very nearly stopped when I realised this. A group of fourteen to fifteen year old boys were flirting with me, I had – cumulatively, I was mentally old enough to be their mothers'. This was very awkward. I carefully kept my smile easy and natural even as I felt like turning tail and throwing myself out of the nearest window to escape them. I did not deal well with people acting like this around me, long experience had taught me it wasn't a good thing.

I did, however, end up watching Sawada-san's beautiful failure of a Volleyball game.

I couldn't help the snorting giggle I gave when I saw the Jump Bullets take effect, or the ball that introduced itself to the teenager's face.

The tour ended fairly quickly when another member of the Committee rushed over and informed them that 'Hibari-Taicho' was unhappy. I got quickly hustled off the grounds with a request to please consider Namimori before they practically fell all over themselves to get back to what they should have been doing. I couldn't help but shake my head. Teenagers.

Well, I had seen Sawada-san in action... well, 'action'.

I snorted unattractively again, unable to stop myself when I thought back on that volleyball match. What the hell was that? Seriously!

I knew Sawada was terrible at sports, but that was just so ridiculously comical it had to be fake.

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I spent the next few days tailing the brunet, idly playing at Tourist. I got to visit Takesushi, and yes, their food was quite delicious – I was especially fond of their dessert menu, I'd never tried anmitsu before, or dango. Plus some of the icecream flavours were really interesting, I think I tried all of them at least once much to Yamamoto-san's amusement as he brought out my orders.

I didn't encounter Reborn, but that was fine, I had an idea of how to handle Sawada-san now. And... I found myself warming to the idea of sticking around. Namimori was a pleasant place though I didn't think I would stay there, it was too hot, too filled with Mafia activity. And I wanted to try becoming a normal person, I wanted to escape that blood-soaked world, properly. I was fed up to the back teeth of being used. Of being hated and looked down on simply for existing. It was exhausting, it was soul crushing. I was tired of apologising for being myself. I wasn't going to do it anymore. Not for anyone. Once I'd finished with Sawada, I would spend the rest of my time at the Ryokan while job hunting in Tokyo, when I had somewhere to work, I would pour the last of my savings into getting myself a flat. I would change my name, I would erase Gokudera Hayato.

I would live without the Mafia. But first, I had to deal with Reborn and Sawada.

I bared my teeth as I enrolled in Namimori Middle School. Reborn wanted me to test his student – fine.

Let's see how he survives the Hurricane.

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BAM. Chapter one finished.

This originally started as an experiment into writing the difficulties that a transgendered individual may face, however, being a cis-woman I realised that I would never be able to do this justice and opted instead to just brush that idea aside. However, the story idea in its concept just kept speaking to me, so I decided to continue with the idea of a female!OC being reincarnated into Gokudera Hayato, and opting to remain true to herself, instead of the character she now is.

So, if there are any lovely ladies, or awesome guys, or even those fantastic individuals who are neither and both all at once, please, I apologise if it comes across as offensive, that isn't my intention. I just didn't want to belittle the trials, the difficulties, the feelings that you may or may not have faced by misrepresenting them or trivialising them in a way that I wouldn't have realised.

Hope you guys have enjoyed the first chapter. There is more to come, and yes, I'll be looking a little further into Japanese culture than your average writer – I've had a long love of Japanese culture, so I will try to include it without drowning you in it.

Also, the 'Slash/Het...Kinda?' thing in the summary, that is literally me just being confused about how to tag this for other people. I don't tend to hang around the hardcore tumblr crowd so I'm a little bewildered on how to refer to this. Aya will be paired with a guy, he will be aware of her sex/gender differences, and he won't give a fuck either. That is his person and he wants them, regardless of what is in her underwear. Some would say this is slash because Aya's got dangly toilet parts, others would say its het because she's got a female brain and sense of self. I - would probably tag it as slash myself (mainly because I happen to ship male!Gokudera with this character XDDD).

Also, it's my birthday today, so I figured I would upload this, another chapter of Storming Skies, Devil's Bride, and another new story called House of Cards, a Sword Art Online/KHR centric story where Tsuna ends up in SAO at ten, before Reborn comes in on the scene. Features some realistic character development for Nana, hopefully some realistic character development for Tsuna (I'm not good at writing wishywashy characters – but I'm really trying). It's Gen, so no pairing for Tsuna, and there won't be any KHR characters involved with the SAO arc beyond what Nana is up to (I might see myself giving her a pairing later, depending on how I roll things out). I'll be sticking with canon SAO pairings though, so Kirito/Asuna.

Check 'em out if you like the sound of it 8DD