A/N: Written for a prompt on LiveJournal where someone wanted to see some badass!Shamal. These were originally two different shortfics, but I decided to join them since they link together exceptionally well.

Warnings: Some sort of violence, mostly worksafe.

Disclaimer: Reborn! is the intellectual property of Amano Akira and all associated companies. No profit is being made from this and no copyright infringement intended with this fan-made piece of fiction. Please support the mangaka by buying the original works.


Backdraw

It wasn't that Shamal was afraid to fight, or that he couldn't fight. He'd already done his share of fighting in all of the previous years. Because of that he'd never had the time to meet a nice girl, to settle down. By now he'd gotten so used to always living in motion that he didn't bother settling down. It was time for him to take it easy, hit on girls, catch up to the years lost to fighting. He didn't even notice the moment he got dragged back into it.

At least Vongola had pretty girls on their side.

. - . - . - .

Shamal sighed, eyeing the company gathered in front of him. When would these people learn? He had already left the active service. He was out of the loop. Out of business. Not connected with the mafia. No connection what. So. Ever. He was a freelance doctor now, travelling the world at his leisure, adoring all the ladies he met on his way – and even more those which he didn't meet.

These ragtag homo thugs, on the other hand, appeared to be quite oblivious to this.

"I could unleash the plague on you," Shamal muttered, feeling annoyed enough to do so. The back-draw to this, sadly, would be quite catastrophic, and the prospect of landing the world – and most notably himself – in such a dire situation was the only thing holding back his eager hand. "But that would kill all the ladies I haven't met yet."

He sighed regretfully.

"Simple ass-kicking will have to do," he decided and stepped forward, figuring that this would also be an amazing opportunity to impress any female onlookers. Women liked bad boys, he smiled to himself in satisfaction. His mood improved even more when he heard the satisfying crack of bones in his opponent's arm.