I flex my hand, staring at it with detached interest. It is smaller than I am used to. Of course, when I relinquished my Old self, I expected something along those lines to happen. The morphing has been done perfectly, and I cannot feel any of the many keys I gathered over eons. I did not mourn their loss, since it was for the 'greater good', as ambiguous a concept as a moral compass is.

Reborn watches silently, his eyes narrowed and a frown marring his forehead. He is too young to frown like that. He breaks the silence.

"You have nothing to say?" He looks both incredulous and pissed.

"What should I talk about?" I answer calmly, hoping my tone would soothe his anger.

"Oh, I don't know, what about the fact you accepted to live as a human? Or the fact that you turned twelve. Shouldn't we talk about that?" Something gleams in his eyes, a raw emotion I would be incapable of identifying.

"Should we?" I am genuinely surprised.

He exhales suddenly, taking off his hat and brushing a hand through his neatly-combed hair. His breathing is shaky, and it is the first time I see him as disturbed as right now.

"For god's sake, you have forsaken everything you were, just to protect me. That ought to count for something, no? Why did you do it?"

His expression is beseeching. Is it the first time...?

"Is this the first time someone shows you kindness?" Words tumble out of my mouth without my consent. I nearly curse.

His mood turns sullen without any precursor sign. His mouth turns downward, and he looks contrived as if he has swallowed something especially foul. He gulps and my eyes follow the movement of his Adam's apple bobbing.

Something flutters in my chest, a warm feeling akin to my sky flames, but somehow much more precious.

"What are you smiling for?" He grinds out. For some unknown reason, he is averting his eyes.

I touch my face, wide-eyed and find that I am literally beaming. My hands drop and my smile turns much softer. Controlled, this time.

"I am sorry. It must have been the chemical imbalance from the transition."

He arches one brow, looking at me with suspicious eyes. He drops the subject and instead brings another one up. One much more sensible.

"What are we going to do?" He asks gruffly.

"We?" He never ceases to amaze me and I stare at him in wonder.

He scoffs. "Of course. What, did you think I would let you fend for yourself in an unknown environment, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, and without your powers?"

The flame is fanned into a fully blazing inferno. It feels awfully hot right now.

A sly smile on his face, Reborn asks. "You're blushing. Are you eight?"

"As a matter of fact, I am twelve. And we are simply going to live like you usually do. You're a hitman, right? Why don't you teach me? I am a fast learner."

I refuse to discuss the fact that I blushed.

It's embarrassing.

Reborn's eyebrows rose skyward. Teach him how to be a hitman? He supposed he could do that. He didn't want to doubt Tsunayoshi's capabilities, especially since he had been the ruling entity of a whole goddamn plane, and it wasn't like he wanted to protect his innocence, or anything.

"Alright," he said, putting his trademark hat atop his head. "It's not going to be easy, you know?" Reborn says, walking toward the back alleys.

"The eldritch say I am quite hard when I want to be, don't worry," Perhaps it was the fact that it was said in a completely innocent tone of voice, without any innuendo intended, which made Reborn nearly falter.

Goddamn, how could he say something like this with a straight face? And damn the people he hung out with for putting such dirty thoughts in his mind. He had never had sexual arousal before, for Christ's sake. It's just that, well, sex was part of the lifeblood of mafia, so one could not ignore this whole facet when embroiled in mafia affairs.

Oblivious to all that, Tsunayoshi walked beside him with childlike wonder in his caramel eyes. He cast a curious glance at Reborn.

"How did you become a hitman so young? Is that not a job left for human adults?"

Reborn gently pushed Tsunayoshi's face, which was really close, away. His answer was a hushed whisper. "First, you're too close. Second, you just need to give a gun to someone to make them a murderer. Even a child. Third, it's not a job. Fourth, don't speak so loud, people might overhear."

"Then, if it is not a job, what is it?" His tone was much softer this time.

Reborn's eyes gleamed and he whispered conspiratorially, "It's a way of life."

Reborn knocked thrice on a nondescript door. "Mama, open. It's me, Michelangelo."

The door creaked as it was pushed open the slightest bit. An eye appeared through the aperture. The door then closed.

A few seconds went by, then the door opened and a slightly chubby Italian woman wearing an apron wiped her wet hands on her clothes.

"Come in." She said, beckoning both boys inside. Once they were inside, she closed the door, which creaked one last time. Then, she left the entry hall and went into the kitchen.

"Was that your mother?" Tsunayoshi asked. Reborn had never told him who his mother was.

"Obviously not. This is a mere front. A facade, if you will. My true mother's dead," Reborn said without missing a beat, walking toward the living room. The living room was an enclosed space, without any window. The door was the only entrance and exit. A man was sitting in the living room, on a cream-colored couch, reading a newspaper, with black-tinted glasses shielding his eyes.

"Michelangelo, is that you?" He asked uncertainly, his voice trembling slightly.

"No, it's damned Santa Claus," Reborn said, retrieving a few items from his pants. He slammed them on the table in front of the man.

"Upper left central, upper left lateral and upper left cuspid. Now, can you drive us to the headquarters or do I have to go there myself?" Reborn asked, sounding particularly exhausted.

The man rose from his seat and folds the newspaper neatly, laying it on the table next to the teeth. His hand swept them, he put them in a small box before sliding it inside his jacket.

"Of course. Please, follow me." They were led to an underground garage. The car they entered was spacious and very comfortable.

"The cardinal Alfonso was a great man. Harsh, but just. It's a shame he passed away," the man said, shaking his head. His grip on the steering wheel was firm but supple.

"Well, he wasn't particularly appreciated by the Cosa, was he? Particularly his anti-criminality mindset. He was a likely candidate for the papacy, after all. Funny how religion is what criminals abide by, but they are willing to erase a man of God for doing what is right."

"Alas, we live in troubled times," the man acquiesced. Looking at the silent Tsunayoshi via the rear-view mirror, he asked, "And who is this young man?"

"No one you need to know." And it was the truth.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, the man hummed. "Of course. Well, please relax, the road is long."

After all, the trip from Rome to Palermo was at least a ten hours ride.

Relaxing music filled the vehicle.

Antonio Vivaldi, Le quattro stagioni.

Reborn watched Tsunayoshi, who was taking in the various sights like he was starved for landscapes.

He subconsciously relaxed.

Yes, they would manage to get to the bottom of this dark supernatural story.

And, perhaps, life would not be so bad once they did.