In his bed, eyes closed, Mikaël's thoughts drifted to the scene he had witnessed earlier in the day. It felt so unreal, unimaginable to him who had peacefully lived his whole life, yet it was real.

Someone brandishing a sword was attacking a teen in the middle of the streets without a care in the world. Compared to this, Ken and Chikusa's state seemed natural, while Mukuro's prison life not so surprising.

Rushing to the scene, as promised to Fuuta, Ryota soon reached the group of teens. His breathing was slightly ragged from running, though it wasn't uncomfortable as he was used to such efforts.

His golden eyes quickly scanned the group, counting to see whether one of the boys was missing before he silently took in the situation. Well, what remained of it.

His eyes flickered to the dissipating cloud of smoke, revealing a beat-up teen, probably around Takeshi's age he deduced. The boy was bleeding and wore a strange hair ornament. Or was it one? He didn't know, and frankly speaking, he had no time to guess.

Next, he looked up to see who the noisy man was. He couldn't see his face, but the peculiar long silver hair, added to the loud voice and attire, which seemed like a uniform, was enough for the green to memorize him.

He stood a few feet behind the teens, perhaps was it the reason they had yet to see him? Reborn greeted him first, dipping his head in his direction. Ryota could only dumbly nod, unsure and too preoccupied to care about why a baby would be here.

In the meantime, the unknown boy had been thrown aside, resulting in one of Mikaël's underclassman grabbing him. Tsunayoshi was it? At the same time, Takeshi took a sword out from who knows where, leaving the other student, the transfer student from Italy if his memory served him right, to take out some— Wait, was that dynamite?

Ryota stood frozen in his spot, unable to process the sudden surge of information. It was all too much. To begin with, a terrorist attack of some sort, which involved a silver-haired-weirdo and a feeble-looking yet not so weak teenager.

Then, while one was on the verge of death, three of his underclassmen rushed in, as if it was perfectly normal. One took out a sword, and he wasn't even part of the Kendo club! What was he doing with it! And the second one casually brought some dynamites from his uniform.

Mikaël felt as if his life was a lie. Since when were teens so dangerous? Was it one of Namimori's selling points to have its younger generation fight and come back black and blue? He didn't know. Honestly? He doubted it. But at the moment, the idea seemed pleasing to his lost mind.

His legs gave out, as he sat on the ground dumbly. He didn't know when it happened, perhaps was it now or minutes before, it didn't matter. At lost, he could only overlook the one-sided battle. Though, unconsciously, his eyes lit up, revealing a light shade of indigo underneath his golden pupils.

It seems, since reincarnating his mind wasn't quite the same anymore. Unconsciously, he licked his upper lip, his eyes flashing a reddish-orange before leaving only light specks in the blend of gold and indigo.

He watched, he looked, he studied.

He Copied.

His lips curled up into a faint smirk. In the end, swordsmanship was all about swinging a piece of metal. How could it be hard to learn?

He didn't realize what he was doing. He didn't know when the fight ended.

But Reborn who stood next to him saw, he dipped his fedora, making his way to his pupil.

::

When he woke up the next morning, Ryota felt strangely refreshed. His encounter with madness forgotten, or more like buried into the deepest part of his memory.

His mood was remarkably pleasant, making his three living buddies a bit apprehensive. After all, when someone who treated you with false courtesy out of politeness became genuine overnight, it was appalling.

His school day couldn't have been better, and club activity went without a hitch. He even had time to train this «misty flame,» or whatever it was called, with the tip Mukuro gave him. Honestly, his day had gone flawlessly. Perhaps too excellently, in fact.

Going back to his apartment, as usual, Ryota found himself quite satisfied. Soft indigo twirled around his fingers as he worked over his control, while his other hand fiddled with his phone.

Jovial, he went to his mailbox, he would most probably find some ads which he would discard without second thoughts, but who cared? It made him happy.

Well, happiness was a fleeting feeling. It had to end at some point.

His grin faltered momentarily, he closed his mailbox, inhaling before beaming at himself and opening the mailbox once more. His smile receded, he grimaced before sighing and rubbing his ear.

Damn, the box hadn't disappeared. With reluctance, the golden-eyed teen took it, leaving the ads into the mailbox for another day, too moody to care. He walked up to the stairs, taking his keys out before pausing and ringing instead, too lazy to unlock the door himself.

Without surprise, Chrome unlocked the door. Pulling it open she shyly smiled at the male in silent greetings, politely dipping her head in acknowledgment.

Ryota smiled back, not forcing himself, already used to the girl's presence and not finding her as annoying as he used to. After spending some time living with the remaining Kokuyo Land gang, he found them to be quite a funny bunch.

Ken was the loudmouth, a strange mix of Daiki, Taiga and himself if he had to compare, while Chikusa's personality was closer to Seijuro's, Kentaro's and Tetsuya's. And Chrome, Chrome was similar to Tetsuya he supposed, though her shyness he had trouble linking it to anyone. Okay, maybe that mushroom head from Daiki's team would fit that part, Sakurai was it?

Letting his schoolbag in the entryway, he took his shoes and jacket off, slipping into his cat patterned slippers. He carried the cardboard box to the living room, settling it on the dining table, he walked to the cupboards where the knives were stored.

Sitting, he carefully cut the carton box. Chrome sat on the seat opposing Mikaël, curiously peering at the package they had received. Her visible eye wandered to the name tag, which was empty, and she quietly frowned, perplexed.

She cocked her head in contemplation before lifting her gaze to look at the cardboard box once more. She patiently waited for her host to take out the unknown item.

::

Ryota was in a bad mood. His head was full of thoughts on the ring they had received the previous night, and he frowned. Disliking the mere allusion to it.

Well, what he disliked most was the letter which went with the unwarranted gift. Just thinking of it made him fume.

What Ryota disliked most was other people controlling him. Not to say that he hated hierarchy. He could respect it if needed, after all, he did so his whole former life.

No, what he despised was people using underhanded method to coax him into obedience. He clicked his tongue, walking to the living room to get some breakfast.

His hand fiddled with the signet ring, well, half of a signet ring. The indigo gem shared an uncanny resemblance to the gemstones on both the ring and earing his mother left behind, it was troubling and gave him a foreboding feeling.

He shrugged it off, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand. Back to the Vongola. His eyes narrowed contemplatively at the name. It seemed familiar as if he had heard it not so long ago.

He closed his golden eyes, humming to himself as he sipped on his hot cocoa. Vongola, Vongola. His golden eyes narrowed. The group who took Fuuta in.

Oh my? Coincidence?

He scoffed, right, he didn't believe in coincidences. Not anymore. He slipped on his shoes, grabbing his jacket and schoolbag before exiting his apartment. He needed to think about how to answer the letter.

Mikaël knew Chrome wasn't as weak as she seemed, she could handle herself without a hitch and, objectively speaking she probably had more fighting experience than him.

Scratch that, she had more experience than him.

But Ryota who felt somewhat indebted to Mukuro, wouldn't allow himself to let one of the man's people into danger. It wasn't anything chivalrous, Ryota saw it as helping out a friend. Well, someone who he owed.

"Say, Juncchi," he asked, not noticing the slip of his tongue. "If you owed someone and the occasion to repay your debt presented itself, though you may risk your life, would you do it?" He wondered.

Junichiro tilted his head, a bright grin on his face at the nickname. Oh, Mika was opening up to him, how cute! He refrained from commenting on it though, seeing as he had asked quite a serious question. "Well," he drawled, a notable skip in his step. "Guess it's all about who's the friend."

Mikaël nodded in agreement. "I mean, if it's you, Mika, I wouldn't mind giving up my life," he said as he sent the green a wink before bursting into laughter.

Ryota simpered, amused. "Sure, I believe you," he answered back with a chuckle, slightly unconvinced. Though part of him strongly believed the glasses-wearing teen as if he knew he could depend on him.

Jun pouted, bringing a hand to his chest, he dramatically twirled on himself as they neared their class. "Oh, how you wound me, Mika! How can you not believe your devoted servant, me? Hirose Junichiro?" He sighed, voice full of melodrama.

Mikaël laughed, flipping his hair he switched his drama queen mode on. "Ohoho, but of course," he added, his golden eyes crinkling in amusement. "The fantastic me has no time for commoner you!"

::

"Right," Jun said as they packed their stuff, ready to go home. "Who were you talking about this morning?" He asked with a frown.

Ryota's hand paused as he closed his pencil case. "An acquaintance, you don't know him," he evaded, not quite sure on the way he should introduce the prisoner to him.

Jun hummed, his brows creasing at the vague answer but he didn't pressure it. He liked to tease Mika, but he knew when to stop. After all, though he wasn't a good actor, Jun's skill when it came to reading people was quite impressive.

"Alright, I guess," he mused, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "'You have club activities tonight?"

Mikaël nodded pensively. "Yeah, don't wait for me," taking his phone out to check the time he stuffed it back in his pant's pocket. "Right, I'll have to call off this weekend's meal," he added apologetically.

Jun pursed his lips. "Ah? Why? Mom and dad have been bugging me for you to stop by, you know, don't ask me about Shiro. She gets annoying as hell whenever your name is mentioned." Ryota rubbed his left earlobe, feeling the crisp gem against his fingertips. "Sorry, but Claude got me a last-minute shot for this weekend. I can't not take it," he explained guiltily.

Jun frowned before sighing. "All right, try to stop by next time," he admonished childishly. Faint disappointment dripped from his cheerful voice as he bade Mikaël goodbye.

::

His bags over his shoulder, Ryota released a small yawn. He walked next to some of his teammates, bored as he thought on what to eat for dinner tonight and his short encounter with Reborn. The fedora-wearing baby.

His mind elsewhere, he mechanically waved as the other boys took off, smiling his fake but genuine-looking smile in the process. Quietly walking, he came to a halt. He cocked his head quizzically as a faint genuine smile bloomed on his face.

"Fuutacchi!"

::

Silence filled the cold study, letting only the low sound of a quill scraping paper echo. Aleksey mutely gazed at his paperwork, face blank and devoid of any emotion, he read over each article with great care before either signing or putting them aside.

His skillful hands paused as he put his quill down. He released a small sigh before leaning in his quilted fauteuil. His right hand gently pulled his silverish bangs back, letting his scar be more visible for a second and the pair of earrings shine under the artificial lighting.

"Devdas," he stated, his low voice clear as water in the calm study. Less than a minute later, a distinct knocking was heard before the mahogany door was opened.

A man, in his early forties, entered the room with confident strides. The faint smell of smoke following his black-clad figure. His dark eyes went to rest on the quiet male's form, and he smiled.

Unlike his usual flirty or feral smile, this one seemed full of reverence, respect, and submission. His brown eyes crinkled, highlighting his beauty spot under his left eye and he bowed, lowly.

"You called. Мой господин?"

His phrasing seemed rude compared to Natalia's, but the voice used was much more devoted than hers. As if worshiping the mere fact of the blond's presence.

Aleksey hummed, acknowledging the others words. "Report," he uttered, picking one of the laying files on his desk and flipping through it.

The curly-haired male obeyed his command. His posture did not change throughout the audience as he kept his low bow in position, unbothered.

The Russian man nodded, flickering his golden eyes upward to look at his bowing guardian. "Stand," he ordered, before signing the paper he held.

Devdas interrupted his speech. "Yes, Мой господин," he complied, straightening his posture before resuming. Reaching the end of his report, he paused, waiting for his Boss to tell him to go on. Waiting to see if his information was still needed.

The scarred male dipped his head at the tanned adult. "Go on," he ushered, putting his quill and paper aside before crossing his hands and resting his chin on them.

Devdas simpered, nodding. "Yes, it is unrelated to Federico, Enrico, and Massimo's death," he began, not minding how casually he called the previous Vongola heirs, though Aleksey couldn't have cared less about how he addressed to his distant-deceased-cousins.

"From the information, Makariy has gathered on the CEDEF," he omitted Iemitsu's name, fully knowing how useless it would be to the flow of the conversation. "It appears a battle for the ring is bound to happen."

Aleksey arched one of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows at the mention of the battle. His gold eyes narrowed before his lips curled up into a smirk. "Oh, right, Nonna did mention another distant cousin," he muttered to himself as he twirled on his fauteuil to face the glass window. His hand extended in a silent order to pour him a glass of vodka.

Devdas mutely complied to the unspoken order. "Yes, from the information Natalia gave me before the mission, and what Makariy recently provided, a battle between Sir Timoteo's Boss candidate and Iemitsu's is bound to take place."

"Oh," Aleksey gently spun his glass, watching as the translucent liquid swirled into it. He sipped on it, turning his fauteuil to face his desk once more. He put his glass down.

"The Cervello should be in charge," he asked, stating the obvious. Devdas voiced his agreement, waiting for his Boss to go on and taking note of every one of his words and gestures.

Aleksey's blank face morphed into one of mischief and anticipation, letting his golden hues glint under the light.

"Make some arrangement, I don't want those rats near my Family's affair," he ordered, stressing his personal interest over the Bratva's.

Devdas obeyed, exiting the office to make the preparations.

Мой господин/Moy gospodin/: My lord

Thanks for reading, until next time^^