Wakasa let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's not just a big name. That's the name."
Takeomi leaned forward, curiosity flickering to interest. "Didn't think I'd ever meet someone from that side who didn't walk in here with an entourage and sunglasses at night."
Takemichi gave him a dry look. "I left mine at home."
Benkei rumbled a thoughtful sound. "I've heard things lately. Vongola's been changing. Getting bigger—but cleaner."
"That's because of my dad. When he inherited it, it was still bloody. Political. Old-world." He folded his arms, voice quiet but steady. "But he didn't want that. He tried to make something else—something he could stand to run, not just survive."
Wakasa raised a brow. "And did he?"
Takemichi looked down for a second. Then back up.
"He did," he said softly. "It took years. A lot of compromise. A lot of people who didn't want to let go. But now… there are entire branches focused on security, tech infrastructure, trade. We have charity now, scholarships. He doesn't believe in throwing away the name. He believes in changing what it means."
Takeomi gave a thoughtful hum, tapping ash off his cigarette. "That… actually tracks. Vongola's been moving into other branches, like real estate, too. Even clean energy in some areas."
"Public relations cleaned up too," Benkei added. "They've got legit fronts now. Ones that stick."
Wakasa tilted his head at Takemichi. "You talk like you believe in it, too."
"I do," Takemichi said. "Not because I have to, but because I saw what it used to be. And what it is now. I was pretty young then, yes, but dad gave me a future I could believe in."
Then, more quietly, "He made something gentle out of something cruel. And I think that matters."
The room went quiet at that. Then, slowly, Shinichiro smiled even if Wakasa shook his head, clearly amused but not unkind. "Your dad sounds like a pain in the ass. Bet he apologizes when he threatens people."
Takemichi chuckled. "He does, actually."
"That's so weird," Takeomi muttered.
Benkei's eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful. "You planning to inherit it?"
Takemichi blinked. "What?"
"The Vongola," Benkei said. "It's yours next, right?"
Takemichi laughed once, short and almost startled. "Oh—no. That's my older brother."
"Then what're you doing here, kid?" Wakasa asked, arms crossed loosely. "Is it not expansion?"
Takemichi looked down at his hands for a moment, then at Shinichiro. "I'm trying to build something of my own."
Shinichiro looked at him for a long moment and nodded like he understood that better than anyone.
Takeomi narrowed his eyes slightly, cigarette dangling between two fingers. "So your father's not planning to leave anything to you?"
Takemichi gave a dry little laugh. "Oh no, he tried. He knows I'm a bit gentle so he wanted me to inherit CEDEF, actually. If I wanted to."
That earned a round of confused looks. "CE…what?"
"It stands for Consiglio Esecutivo Di Esperti Famiglia," Takemichi explained, ticking off with two fingers. "It's the external advisory division for the Vongola. Technically separate, but still very much involved."
Wakasa squinted. "Advisors? That's it?"
Takemichi gave him a look. "It's a high-security intelligence and operations branch. They handle diplomacy, strategy, and—on paper—inter-family coordination. But they've also dealt with hostage situations, weapons smuggling, and three attempted coups."
Wakasa blinked. "That's not just advisors."
"No," Takemichi said, dry. "It's advisors with sniper certifications."
Shinichiro choked on his tea while Takeomi raised both brows, impressed. "And your dad thought that was a gentle option?"
Takemichi sighed. "Papa thought I should inherit the Varia."
"…The what?"
"Elite assassination unit."
Dead silence.
Benkei turned to Shinichiro. "Are we sure this kid's not a fever dream?"
Shinichiro just put his head in his hands.
"They're technically both part of the Vongola," Takemichi went on, calm as ever. "CEDEF is currently headed by my cousin Basil—he's a good guy. And the Varia… well, Uncle Xanxus ran it for years, but Papa thinks I'm too soft and that a couple missions would toughen me up."
Wakasa stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "Your papa wanted you to lead a group of international assassins?"
Takemichi nodded. "He said it builds character."
Takeomi leaned in, eyes glinting. "You planning to take either offer?"
He shook his head. "Not now."
There was something solemn in the way he said it. Not dismissive. Not defiant. Just honest. "I don't want to inherit someone else's battlefield. I want to figure out what mine is first."
That shut them up for a moment.
Benkei gave a thoughtful grunt. "You got more self-awareness than most adults."
"That's just cause he's already lived through three action movie plots," Wakasa said, chuckling.
Takeomi lit another cigarette. "What about your brother? If you're not taking it, he is, right?"
Takemichi's expression shifted—fond but wry. "Yeah. Ieyasu's the heir. He's… more suited for it."
Shinichiro tilted his head. "Older or younger?"
"Older," Takemichi said. "By three years. He was also born in an artificial womb, so we've the same genes, different defaults."
Benkei looked confused again. "And he's more like your…?"
"Papa," Takemichi said simply. "Where I got more of my dad's personality—quiet, soft-spoken, awkward—Ieyasu's got Papa's instincts. Sharp. Calculating. Strategic. Dangerous when he needs to be."
"Which means terrifying," Takeomi translated flatly.
"Also extremely protective," Takemichi added, rubbing the back of his neck. "He nearly vaporized a guy at school once because someone called me a brat."
Benkei raised a brow. "Did you tell him to stop?"
"I told him to lower the flamethrower first."
Wakasa snorted into his sleeve.
Shinichiro was watching Takemichi now with something unreadable in his expression—half-exhausted, half-impressed.
"This family of yours," he said finally, "they raise all their kids like this?"
Takemichi tilted his head in thought. "We were homeschooled when we were really young, most of our teachers being ex-special forces. Then we went to a Mafia school."
"…You know that's not normal, right?"
Takemichi gave a long, tired sigh. "So I've been told."
Wakasa leaned against the tool cart again, eyeing Takemichi with renewed curiosity. "So, your dad runs a global mafia empire. Your brother's the heir with flamethrower access. You almost inherited a black ops division or a murder squad. That covers the dad's side…"
He tilted his head. "What about your papa?"
Takemichi blinked. "Papa?"
"Yeah," Takeomi chimed in, exhaling smoke. "You've been talking about your dad this whole time. What's the other half of this genetic death trap?"
Takemichi opened his mouth like he was going to answer plainly. Then paused and said, very calmly, "His name's Reborn."
Three seconds of silence.
Wakasa blinked. "Wait. Reborn? Like… the Reborn?"
Takeomi turned to the others, brows raised. "Isn't that the name of that famous hitman? The one that used to top the bounty charts for, like… fifty years straight?"
"Longer than that, I think," Benkei grunted.
Benkei frowned. "Everyone thought he was a legend. Like, not real. Just a name on contracts no one ever saw fulfilled."
Takemichi nodded slowly. "He's real and he's the best hitman in the world."
Dead silence.
Shinichiro stared at him. "Your papa is that Reborn?"
Takemichi sighed. "Yes."
Wakasa let out a long whistle. "Damn. I thought he was just a scary bedtime story for guys in the business. The dude's name has been whispered since before I was in diapers."
"He must be ancient, though. I remember hearing that name when I was a teenager, too," Benkei said, scratching his jaw.
Takeomi looked at Takemichi, brows raised. "How old is your papa, exactly?"
Takemichi hesitated. Then gave a sheepish smile. "…Technically?"
The others leaned in slightly.
"I can't say specifics," Takemichi said, lowering his voice like someone who knew they were being watched. "But Papa was kind of… cursed."
Takeomi squinted. "Cursed."
"Yeah. Like… physically cursed."
Wakasa blinked. "What does that even—?"
Takemichi cut him off, looking around the garage like a sniper laser might appear on his forehead at any second.
"It wasn't until my dad broke the curse that Papa could actually start aging again," he said quickly. "So, in a way… yeah. He's really, really old."
He added this last part with a very cautious glance over his shoulder, like he half-expected a bullet to come through the wall just for saying it out loud.
The silence broke as Wakasa doubled over laughing. "Holy shit, you actually look scared of him."
Takemichi sighed dramatically. "Because I am. If he hears me calling him 'old,' I won't even hear the shot."
Takeomi chuckled, shaking his head. "Okay, that explains a lot about why you're like this."
"Like what?" Takemichi asked, affronted.
"Emotionally stable, but physically prepared to sprint at any given moment," Wakasa replied.
Takemichi opened his mouth. Closed it. Shrugged.
"…Fair."
Shinichiro was still staring at him with a mixture of fascination and horror. "Your family sounds like a conspiracy theory."
Takemichi offered a weak smile. "Tell me about it."
.
.
Also, if you want to support me and read chapters ahead, go to my p@treon: JorieDS