As the Cleaner of the Bratva, North Europa's deadliest hitman, Devdas Volkov had but one terrible fear: Fire.

The way those flames danced, going from red to orange, yellow to blue— Blue, like his Rain flames. Yellow, like his Sun flames. The thought never ceased to send a chill down his spine.

Ah, but how dreadfully beautiful they were. Orange, similar to his Boss' Sky Flames. Red, much like those dangerous Storm Flames. They engulfed anything and everything, leaving nothing but cinders behind in a macabre painting.

Devdas' smoking habit began a week after his mother's death in a fire, he was fourteen. The prospect of lighting up a cigarette seemed like an insurmountable challenge, plunging him back in this horrible time in which he lost his mother.

So terribly terrifying, yet the adrenaline was incommensurably pleasing.

With military-oriented schooling and his father's education as a teacher, he finished high-school, dropping out of the educational system and hopping into the underworld instead, he was nineteen.

Devdas wasn't much of an academic genius, truthfully, his grades were barely acceptable. But when it came to practice? Hand to hand combats and the like, his instinct was pure genius. Beyond compare.

Entering the Bratva wasn't hard, one simply needed to prove himself and the lower echelon weren't the ones the higher-ups concerned themselves with.

Making money wasn't too complicated either, only—

Only it seemed the fastest way was to dirty his hands.

Was it a problem? No. So long as his father never knew and the money came in.

Devdas, draping his body in blood, dived into the darkest part of the underworld, casting aside all of his remaining innocence to become a hitman.

His talent didn't lack and in no time, he moved up the ladder, steadily becoming more powerful in the organization, no one scoffed at his blood anymore, fearing him too much to do so.

But bottlenecks were everywhere. After talent, connections were the most important.

So perhaps, was it fate, destiny, when the future Boss went to him, pulling him higher and higher until he reached his position as Rain Guardian.

Aleksey was a God to Devdas.

The man who could make the best out of him. The one who would protect his father for him, getting him out of reach while keeping the income coming.

So perfect. So dazzling.

So deadly, those beautiful Flames.

::

"Ciaossu," Reborn greeted as he jumped off the fence to stand in front of his student and Guardians in probation. His eyes swept over the group, counting the teens before he nodded in satisfaction.

Tsunayoshi, as usual, squirmed under his eyes, unsure of what his tutor had in store for them. Yamamoto portrayed his typical laid-back attitude, though the strain in his smile didn't go unnoticed by the hitman. Next to the baseball player was Gokudera. His hands stuffed in his pocket, a deep frown was etched on his face as he kept his cigarette in his mouth.

In the back of the group were the oldest members, namely Hibari and Mikaël. The Demon Prefect kept his eyes closed, his hand minutely twitching at every sound, itching to grab his tonfas and beat some sense into this group of herbivores. Mikaël leaned against the wall, eyes closed and head slightly bowed, he seemed to doze off. His golden eyes were marked by dark bags as he desperately tried to fight off the sleepiness.

As for Ryohey and Lambo, the Sun Guardian had gone back to school, to take care of some club matters as his presence wasn't requested. Lambo was at the hospital due to his injuries from the previous battle.

"Tonight should either be the Rain or the Cloud battle," Reborn began, voice calm and seemingly unconcerned. "If we follow the battle pattern up until yesterday, we should be able to prepare for these two rounds accordingly," he stated.

"Yamamoto," the raven head perked up at his name, beaming at the hitman to show he heard him. "How do you feel about firearms?"

The teen's smile receded, and he cocked his head to the side. "Well, I've only ever used a sword I suppose," he answered with a small laugh.

Reborn nodded, he pulled something from his suit's inner pocket and tossed it at the teen. "Then try it," he demanded before pointing at the shore few meters down. "I put some targets for you to train."

Takeshi stared at the gun blankly, he blinked. "Sure?"

Reborn watched with satisfaction as the swordsman went down to the shore to practice before turning to face the group once more. "Now, Hibari."

The Prefect grunted, barely opening one of his steel-grey eyes to look at the Arcobaleno. Reborn paused. "We need to test your poison resistance," he enunciated.

Hibari frowned, his eyes narrowed, making Tsunayoshi who kept a close eye on the third-year flinch. "What?"

Reborn unnoticeably pursed his lips. "бриз's Cloud Guardian is a poison master—"

"Hn, weak herbivore."

Reborn shook his head. "True, chances are, he definitely is weaker than you when it comes to physical attacks," Hibari humphed in disinterest at the prospect of such a weak opponent.

"But Makariy's poisons generously make up for that difference. His poison resistance, from all of his experimentation, is quite high, I wouldn't be surprised if he asked you to turn into lab-rats the time of the battle."

Hibari's lips pursed, "I'll bite him to death," he said, his eyes dangerously glinting in anticipation.

Reborn shook his head. Let's ask Dino, he concluded. His eyes trailed on Hibari's figure for a few seconds as the third-year walked away, most probably to go back to Namimori.

The hitman sighed, he turned to look it Takeshi's direction, the sound of bullets missing their targets succinctly reaching his ears. "Storm is Aleksey's second ring," the hitman resumed as he began to walk down the hill.

"It is most probably going to be a battle, with many destructive devices around," he elaborated. "How is your training going Gokudera?"

The silver head straightened, he took his cigarette out, quickly exhaling the toxic smoke. "There's no problem," he confidently said. "I'll definitely bring the ring back to Tenth!"

Tsunayoshi wryly smiled at his friend's enthusiasm. Reborn nodded, satisfied. "Good."

His eyes flickered to his student. "Dame-Tsuna, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Basil already?" He asked with a tilt of his head.

"A-ah, what— Yes, of course, I'm going!"

Reborn smirked as he watched his student flail his arms in distress while running to the CEDEF member. His gaze flickered to Gokudera, he raised an eyebrow. "You're not training anymore?"

The silver head straightened. "I'm going!"

Reborn smiled to himself before shaking his head. From afar, he could hear the sound of bullets reaching the target from time to time.

"Mikaël," the green flinched at his name. "Have you been sleeping these days?"

Ryota rubbed his earlobe, his eyes darted to the side. "A bit," he answered.

Reborn shook his head. "You should sleep, you won't amount to anything if you can't stand straight," he admonished.

"I—" Ryota harshly pulled his hair back, messing up his already disheveled look. It was fortunate the streets were empty, and no one was there to see his looks.

"How am I supposed to sleep with these images repeating themselves every time I close my eyes!" He yelled, his golden eyes sharply glaring at Reborn. "They repeat, and repeat, every detail is engraved in my memory," he screamed.

Reborn kept his face neutral, listening to the younger's outburst. He hadn't expected his resistance to be so low. When the teen went home after the Sun battle, he appeared unbothered.

"I can't forget, and even if I do, my body remembers," he bit his lower lip, cutting himself off to regulate his breathing. Inhale, exhale, his ragged breath slowly turned back to normal.

Reborn raised an eyebrow. "Your body remembers?"

Ryota stilled, his golden eyes snapped open to look at the hitman. He chuckled, the exhaustion from the past days catching up to him. "Copying, don't you think that I'm great when it comes to plagiarizing others?"

"What?"

Mikaël sighed, he rubbed the bridge of his nose before rearranging his hair. "Sorry, I'm tired," he muttered. he leaned down to pick up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"Wait," Reborn's eyes searched for the green's golden hues before he tilted his fedora and turned around. "Come with me, you'll sleep later."

Ryota raised an eyebrow, he was about to refute the hitman, but he cut him off. "Anyway, in your current state, you won't sleep a wink."

::

The cloud of toxic fumes escaped from the tanned male's mouth as he leisurely sat on a flower bed, using it as his ashtray with no regards to the environment.

His lackadaisical golden tinted hues shifted slightly to rest on the newcomers' figure. His lips quirked up into a smirk as he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth to bury it in the flower bed.

He stood up, dusting himself off the dirt before humming. He counted the people present, his gaze resting on two particular males, before giving an exaggerated curtsy.

"Devdas Volkov," he introduced. Standing up, he took another cigarette and lit it up, he tucked it in his mouth. "I'm His Lordship's Rain Guardian," he said in broken Japanese before exhaling another cloud of smoke. "A pleasure."

Noticing he didn't receive any reaction, he shrugged. Whatever he wanted to get this over with as fast as possible. It wasn't this sort of job that would help His Lord.

He snapped his fingers, and a petite figure emerged from behind him. "Shura, give them the arms," he commanded in Russian, watching as his underling mutely executed his orders.

"This round's easy, see these targets?" He gestured to the other side of the school stadium. "You only need to hit them," he puffed a cloud of smoke and smirked. "Simple, right?"

He took a revolver from his holster and casually twirled it around his finger. "Though I can't compare to Sir Reborn, I'll give you a demo," with these words, three clean shots echoed in the night, each one hitting bullseyes.

He put his fuming gun away before humming to himself. "Right, I'm not as kind as Natasha so don't expect me to give either of you an advantage."

Squalo stared at the gun in his hand with a frown. "Voii, what kind of shitty battle is this! How am I supposed to kill this trash like that?"

Devdas tilted his head, boredly looking at the silver head. "Well, you can always shot him instead of the targets and lose. I don't mind either way," he laughed. "Also, I don't have time for your shitty games, so wrap this up quickly. I'm a busy man."

The half-Indian ignored the rest, leaving his small assistant to watch over the match, well if it could be considered one. His eyes trailed over the candidates before resting on a figure in the far back.

He frowned, this signature seemed a bit familiar. He puffed another cloud of smoke. Alice?

::

"Say, Natasha? Who's the green-haired kid?"

The brown-haired girl paused her movements, the sound of the keyboard being hit came to a halt. Her honey brown eyes flickered upward to rest on Devdas' smoking figure.

"I thought the Cloud kid would interest you more," she answered, going back to tipping her report.

The hitman shrugged, humming he raised an eyebrow, silently ushering her to tell him the identity of the golden-eyed teen. Golden eyes, he pursed his lips.

Natalia sighed. In one swift movement, she went to her file in which was information about every Guardian candidate.

"I sent you his file. Now leave I have some work to finish."

The man laughed, waving his hand, he silently went over the information before frowning in contemplation. Lamarre, where did he hear this name already?

Mist. Lamarre. France—

He clicked his tongue, crumpling his cigarette in the neighboring ashtray. "Say, Maka's coming tomorrow, right?"

Natalia raised an eyebrow at the obvious answer. "He should be," she paused. "But I received a message from him. Apparently, he made a new breakthrough in his researches. He asked for more time."

"'S that so."

She hummed. "I consulted Lord Zhihao, we were thinking about holding the Storm battle next—"

"Let's do Mist."

Natalia dubiously looked at her colleague. "Why? Aren't you going back to Russia tomorrow morning? What does it have to do with you?"

Devdas shrugged, a sly smirk painted on his lips. "C'mon Natasha, I knew Alice best. Of course, I'm the perfect guy for the Mist battle," he boasted.

The Lightning Guardian remained silent for a few seconds, her red-tinted lips in a thin line. "Sure, I don't mind. Ask Lord Zhihao, and it should be alright."

Devdas beamed. "I knew you understood me best Natasha!"

::

"Fuuta."

"Yes, Reborn-san?" The boy answered with a tilt of his head.

"You are close to Mikaël, aren't you?"

The boy paused before nodding in agreement.

"Then, do you know what he means by 'his body remembers,'" he inquired.

Fuuta paused, frowning before shaking his head negatively.

Reborn fell silent. "Do you have his ranking?"

::

"Evening," Natalia greeted in fluent Japanese as she stood before both the Varia and Tsunayoshi's group. Devdas who stood right behind her, a cigarette tucked in his mouth, casually waved his hand.

Reborn raised an eyebrow, dubious. Wasn't the half-Indian supposed to go back to Russia? His eyes scanned the surrounding, he frowned. Wasn't tonight the Cloud battle?

The girl tucked a hair strand behind her ear. "Tonight, we shall hold the battle of the Mist," she paused, resting her gaze on both Mist Guardians in probation.

"Following our previous directives, and since Dear Alice has left us, we shall turn the Mist battle into a simple duel," she pursed her lips at the sound of her colleague exaggeratedly coughing.

"Of course, since Alice is no more, this battle shall be one to death."

The world seemed to still for Ryota as he dumbly blinked his golden hues. What? To death? He mutely stared into space for a second, disregarding all around him before—

He was already so, so tired.

What else did they want from him? His life?

Ah, but wasn't it only dying in the end?

After death, wouldn't his life be peaceful?

How bad could it be compared to his first time? Sure, he wouldn't see Francchi grow up, or mamiecchi ever again. Nor would he laugh with Shuzocchi or Jun, chat with his juniors or Claudecchi.

But did it matter at the end of the day? He should be glad he only had a second chance at life. How many could pretend to have received such a gift— Wait, perhaps was it more of a curse? He wasn't sure anymore.

"—pai, we can forfeit! You don't have to put your life on the line!" Tsunayoshi's flustered voice pulled Mikaël out of his daze.

The green, face unusually blank, merely flickered his eyes to stare at the brown head before beaming. An oh so dazzlingly fake smile, dripping with genuineness.

"Don't sweat it Tsunayoshi," he said, ruffling the teen's spiky locks of brown. Tsunayoshi stared at the other dumbly, the bad feeling in his guts growing the more his Senior spoke.

"It's only dying, what is there to be afraid of?"

Tsunayoshi gaped, he tried to reach for the older's sleeve to stop him. "Wait—"

"Let's begin, Natalia-san," Ryota asked, already standing in the middle of the battle ring, waiting for the proctor to give their accord.

His golden hues rested on the hooded figure, and the sense of foreboding he first felt upon laying his eyes on them didn't appear. He tilted his head and smiled, the darkness of his eye bags only highlighting the brightness of it.

Natalia cleared her throat. "Then, let us start the battle of the Mist."

бриз/briz/: breeze, land breeze, land wind

Since it isn't said clearly, the Rain battle was won by Squalo. I believe that even with some training, Yamamoto wouldn't reach Squalo's marksmanship level in one evening. I believe Squalo's marksmanship level as the Varia Strategist and a Guardian should be quite high.

Thanks for reading, until next time^^

Character Pic:

-Devdas Volkov

-Shura Volkov (adopted)