The Varia mansion was no less than the Vongola mansion, if not a bit smaller. It was the same, dark, marvellous manor that fitted a dark prince such as himself greatly.
Prince the Ripper. He loved this name, this alias. Given by other people, yes, but so fitting. He knew. His knives were made to rip and slit and cause pain. His strings were perfect to make scratches, to tear the skin and to make the blood flood and stain and pool on the floor. It was easy and fun to jump in those beautiful, red, dense puddles, rich with corpses. Sublime.
The epitome of perfection.
Belphegor knew it was, in some weak idiots' opinions, wrong. But he didn't give a fuck. He loved the sight of blood seeping from nasty wounds, particularly if he made those wounds. He became mad seeing his own and loved returning the favour ten-fold. Oh, the joy, the delight in striking with that much acquired power. His blood held power. His royal blood was precious. Precious and powerful.
He understood his... perks were those of a sadomasochist. He had accepted it. And the teen didn't give a fuck about those that pinpointed that fact right at his face. Actually, he couldn't say that he was a total sadomasochist. The term, he found out, had something to do about sexuality and be turned on by causing and experiencing pain. He was not.
No. Belphegor, instead, felt his lust for blood increasing at that, but not lust for sexual activities. He simply wanted blood and, seeing his own, triggered an even greater killing spree. He loved those moments. His opponents, not so much.
So... The question was... Why the hell was he seeing blood and... panicking?!
Seriously, his eyes, covered by his blonde bangs, were wide, like his mouth, with parted, dry lips.
How had it happened?
Oh, right. He'd been practicing all morning with his knives in the garden, thinking on a new trap to prank the shark. He'd been so focused, that he'd missed the limo entering through the gate and its occupants coming his way. He'd not seen the Boss, nor the World's Greatest Hitman, nor the child.
So, in his frenzy, he'd used a knife with a string against them in an instinctive defence. While the child had dodged the weapon, he couldn't have evaded the razor-sharp string. It had cut a superficial wound on his left cheek, blood seeping and dripping from his chin.
For the afore-mentioned question, several answers popped up in his genial mind. For example, his Boss was kneeling in front of the child, somewhat leaking killing intent towards Bel and sending him random glares. The World's Greatest Hitman, Reborn, had narrowed his eyes dangerously at him while checking the boy in a seemingly uninterested way. His mind supplied another reason, anyway.
Bel was frozen to the spot. Bent knees, left foot slightly forward, arms held in mid-air, unblinking eyes.
"I'm fine, Xanxus-nii, it's only a scratch." The low, melodious voice said in slightly awkward Italian.
"Are you sure?"
Oh, hallucinations, too? Because. It was impossible he had just heard his Boss use a kind, whispered, caring tone... No way! ... Right?
"Of course, I am." The boy giggled with half-lidded eyes. "And don't be angry, your family member didn't do it on purpose." He turned to Reborn. "You, too, don't be upset."
The hitman looked at the child and huffed. He approached and put a finger on the scratch. Yellow flames ignited on its pit and the wound closed swiftly. The boy blinked and touched the pinkish skin.
He smiled at the hitman. "Thank you."
Reborn turned the other way. Xanxus stood, ruffling his mop of messy hair and gazed over Bel.
YOU ARE READING
Family
Fanfiction[COMPLETE] Tsuna gets kidnapped. He sees his mother die. He is abused. He is kept for five months. He is only five-years old. When he is saved, his father takes him to Italy.
