Chapter Text
Squalo eyes their unexpected visitor with a great deal of suspicion.
It’s been four months since Xanxus has returned to the public eye—picking the most dramatic moment possible, much to Tsunayoshi’s expressive delight and Squalo’s equally expressive despair—and while things have settled down for the most part, they are hardly at a point where the World’s Greatest Hitman can waltz into Varia Headquarters without setting off all existing alarm bells. And then some.
"Reborn," he greets because Xanxus cannot be assed to play nice with anyone, least of all someone in any shape connected to Timoteo Vongola, and Squalo refuses to find out the hard way how much it’s going to take for Xanxus to irritate the infamous Sun Arcobaleno into shooting him. "What brings you here?"
No point in faking polite chitchat. This isn’t a social call and by the quicksilver grin that flashes across Reborn’s face he is well aware of it.
"Chaos," the hitman, who currently looks like a nine-year-old child and is dressed in a smart suit, greets him.
Squalo inwardly despairs over his ability to accurately guess the age of still-growing humans. He has had entirely too much practice, over the last couple of months.
"I’ve heard rumors about one of your Officers." Reborn gets straight to the point.
Well, that’s not a promising start. Squalo can feel the way his hackles rise at the way the very air between them thrums with silent threat and blood-chilling don’t you dare. Squalo doesn’t blink at the sudden change in atmosphere. Mukuro has a habit of sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong—and going by the widening smirk, Reborn is amused instead of annoyed.
Which is, of course, its own problem.
"Lots of rumors, these days." Squalo smiles noncommittally. "Too many people who talk too damn much."
He's gonna have to do some spring-cleaning. Again.
Reborn tips his head without dislodging the fedora carefully balanced on top of it. Squalo has to admit, he makes for a cute kid. And, despite his youth, a much less disturbing sight than his toddler form.
Though that may be Squalo’s recent exposure to a surprising number of murderous preteens talking.
"Nevertheless, I trust my source."
Probably Mammon then. Squalo doesn’t quite sigh but it is a near thing. He doesn’t think Mammon would deliberately do anything to endanger Tsunayoshi. The miser likes the kid which is more than they feel about anyone else's existence. Given that Reborn is the third Arcobaleno this month who is dropping by, the visit isn’t entirely unexpected either.
As though reading Squalo’s thoughts, Reborn inclines his head.
"I’m not here to cause trouble," now that is a bold lie if Squalo has ever heard one because unlike other people he actually listens when Mammon tells a rare story about their former set, "just to meet the boy I owe my current situation to."
So maybe there is more to the 'little push in the right direction' that Tsunayoshi insists he has given their resident Miser to solve the Arcobaleno curse than the troublesome kid has been willing to admit to. Color Squalo shocked.
Squalo stares at the Sun a moment longer, weighing the odds of this going to shit in a way he won't be able to contain, before he gives in to the inevitable. Better this happens now, under his watchful eye, than for Reborn to get creative. Or, worse, invested.
"Follow me."
The chibi murder squat is usually either holed up in what used to be the Cloud Officer’s office and has since been turned into a giant blanket fort—for the sole purpose of spitting on the previous Officer’s memory, as far as Squalo can tell, a cause he heartily approves of—or causing havoc in one of the low-level training rooms at this time of the day.
Squalo heads to the latter location first because somehow he doesn’t think letting Reborn into the kids’ safe space is going to go over well. With Mukuro already on high alert like the paranoid Mist he is, it is no surprise that the children are waiting for them there.
Correction, Tsunayoshi is waiting for them, flanked on either side by Mukuro and Byakuran respectively.
"You’ve got a visitor, Tsuna," Squalo says absently, most of his attention locked on the largest threat in the room. He’s got back-up watching from the corners, which Reborn is probably aware of, and he won’t hesitate calling them in if the Sun Arcobaleno makes one wrong move, Greatest Hitman or not.
This is Varia Territory and if Reborn doesn’t step carefully, he is going to learn the hard way that these kids are protected.
Well, Tsunayoshi at least. Squalo could do without the rest.
"Hello." Tsunayoshi bows like the polite little shit he definitely isn’t anymore. Squalo blames his shifty Mist for that too. "My name is Tsunayoshi, Officer of the Cloud Division. It is nice to meet you, Reborn-san."
"Hn. We’ll see." Reborn tilts his head and looks Tsunayoshi up and down with an intensity Squalo does not appreciate. It makes Mukuro bristle and Byakuran’s smile widen, so he definitely isn’t the only one who notices.
"You’re not what I expected," Reborn states after a moment, absently stroking the green chameleon on his shoulder.
Tsunayoshi, who has proven time and again that self-preservation is a skill reserved for other people, stares back curiously and noticeably unimpressed.
Squalo hopes he is imagining the pleased uptick in the corner of Reborn’s mouth. Surely Tsunayoshi’s obsession with collecting every random stray he comes across doesn’t include once-more-growing Arcobaleno. Does it?
While Squalo is busy suffering a silent panic attack, Reborn seems to come to a conclusion.
"I dislike debts," the hitman says calmly. Pointedly.
Tsunayoshi watches him with a serene expression that is at odds with the glint in his eyes. One that Squalo associates with a level of quasi-suicidal insanity the kid only survives through unbelievable amounts of dumb luck. And the bloodthirsty sidekicks he collects.
"I would be foolish to let go of a favor from the strongest Sun in the world," Tsunayoshi says matter-of-fact.
Reborn straightens and the smirk tugging at his lips widens into an actual smile. "I was hoping you would say that, Silly-Tsuna. I hope you have something to regret."
Then, in a motion so fast even Squalo—who in spite of everything else is waiting for it—barely sees, Reborn pulls a gun out of literally nowhere and shoots Tsunayoshi straight between the eyes.
The next moments go by in cracked flickers of individual sensations.
Mukuro makes an pained, gurgling sound unlike anything the human throat is meant to be capable of.
Byakuran drops his marshmallow bag.
The air is heavy. Cold. Oppressively presses against his skin from all sides as their very surroundings twist and churn—
Squalo races forward, a sword in his hand he has no memory of drawing.
Reborn ducks and sidesteps the attacks two Mists and one Cloud are already leveling against him, and for a fraction of a second all of them are frozen in place. Watching each other. Preparing their next move.
Then something b r e a k s.
Sky Flames flood the room, sudden and strong and so warm they almost burn. A home away from home. A restful stop on a weary road. A cackling fire in a cold night. A gentle heat, unobtrusive yet all-encompassing as it stretches and stretches and stretches and—
"REBORN TO GIVE REBORN A HUG!"
In the end, Squalo supposes after they have all calmed down to some extent—except for Mukuro, who doesn’t count because they cannot wait forever—, recovered from the far too intense Flame High to be caused by a freshly-activated preteen and sorted out the absolute mess that the Sun Arcobaleno’s—who, it turns out, does not appreciate being hugged—idea of a practical joke has turned out to be, we all get what’s coming for us.
It must be a sign from the universe that one of the newer Clouds picks that moment to carefully inch the door to their mostly destroyed training room open, blink once at the carnage and then turn to Squalo.
"Um, Officer? There’s a kid at the door. He…appears to be biting the guards to death?"