Long blond, almost silver hair fluttered in the cold Russian wind. The regal man exhaled a cloud of toxic smoke. His half-lidded golden eyes stared at his cigarette in mild boredom before he lifted his gaze upward to stare at the immaculate landscape of his motherland.

His eyes glinted, dark orange beautifully blending in his gold-colored irises as he observed the scene in front of him. He felt neither fear nor trepidation at the thought of the intruder, only unrestrained repulsion.

He tucked the deadly stick in his mouth, his hand gently pushed back his bangs, revealing his lighter-colored right eye. His scarlet coat swayed with the evening breeze, giving off a somewhat unreachable air to the man.

He took the carcinogenic stick from his mouth, puffed out the poisonous fumes before letting his cigarette fall to the ground and uncaringly stepping on it. "Devdas," he called out, extending his gloved hand to his  Rain Guardian.

The tanned male gave a silent smile. He opened a velvet colored box with the Bratva's insignia atop of it, revealing two neatly crafted rings, one with a dull-looking red gem, another one with an orange jewel of similar luster.

Devdas kneeled, taking the rings one after another from the box next to him. He first gently wiped them with a silk cloth before carefully sliding them on his Boss fingers, not forgetting to give a reverent kiss to the back of his now glove free hand once finished.

Aleksey barely spared the man a glance, a flicker of his attention. He retracted his hand, flexing his fingers before observing the now shining gems atop them. They almost seemed alive, the light in them twirled violently from one side to another. Violence was his trademark, ruthless his middle name, his Flames perfectly portrayed him.

A light smirk painted itself on his face but the sound of snow being stepped on made his smile fade, he flickered his gaze to look at the newcomer, disgust flashed through his golden irises.

"Hello, Levin-chan!" The white-haired teen chirped in English upon laying his violet eyes on the Russian mafia boss, his steps light, devoid of any nervousness or fear others usually displayed in the man's presence.

Aleksey raised a sharp eyebrow before he sneered in unrestrained disdain. "I see your manners are as deplorable as your looks, Byakuran."

Byakuran grinned, undeterred. "Aww, attacking the looks is low Levin-chan! But, whoa, I'm so flattered! Levin-chan knows my name!" He squealed.

Devdas who stood next to his Boss clenched his fist in irritation— how dare he be so disrespectful to his Boss? To his God? Taking a threatening step forward he was stopped by a single movement of his superior.

Aleksey pulled a new cigarette from his coat's inner pocket, he carelessly extended it to his Guardian for him to lit it with some Sun Flames before stuffing it in his mouth, not taking note of the white's word and dismissing them entirely.

The Gesso Boss didn't take note of what had happened. "Actually, Levin-chan, I came to ask for an alliance," he confided, still grinning brilliantly, though the sly glint in his profound purple eyes didn't go unnoticed.

Aleksey merely puffed out a cloud of carcinogenic smoke before giving his cigarette to Devdas for him to hold. "Is that so," he mused, pokerfaced. "Then, your information is lacking. My Domain doesn't deal with alliances," his eyes glinted, dark orange blending with gold before abruptly shifting to dangerous scarlet, merely going back to gold as he finished his phrase. "Only debts."

"Oh, but won't you do an exception for me Levin-chan?" Byakuran shamelessly coaxed, a sly smile on his lips as he fearlessly gazed at the mafia Boss in front of him.

Aleksey pursed his lips, his eyes sharpened, and there was a sudden spike in power around him. "Listen up мальчик," he said, slipping back to Russian for a moment. "My Domain is not a playground for you to play, do not test your luck."

Byakuran's smile fell, he pursed his lips. "Oh, a shame," he whispered. "Then what if I make you owe me, Levin-chan?"

Aleksey's thin lips twisted into a sneer.

::

A green-haired man tiredly sat in a grand black quilted chair, his golden eyes strained on the paperwork in front of him, he sharply glared at the paper, hating every letter and its curve, every stamp to testify the document's authenticity, every name he came across with the letters M.I.A. and K.I.A. next to them.

His hand gently reached for his pierced left earlobe, feeling two small holes, devoid of any jewelry. There was a light knock at his door, and he hummed.

The imposing mahogany door pushed open, a mop of pink entered. A smile was etched on the slightly younger man's face as he tilted his head in silent greetings. He carried a stack of paper and wore a simple black suit, the single colorful things about himself were his dyed hair, his blue eyes and green pieces of jewelry he wore. There was no glamour to his outfit, everything screamed practicality and minimalism.

He put the papers down on the glass lower table in the middle of the office before walking closer to the desk and knocking on its smooth surface twice to get the green's attention.

Ryota lifted his eyes from his work, slightly simpering at the sight of his dumb Guardian. "Shura," he acknowledged, eyes carrying a vague sense of melancholy as they lit up with hidden affection.

Shura reverently bowed before straightening his spine. He began to move his hands, signing. 'My Lord, shouldn't you take a break? Lord Zhihao and Lady Natalia are worried about your health,' he introduced, his blue eyes trained on the older's figure, the slight worry in his blue eyes not going passed the green head.

Mikaël carefully took in every one of his Guardian's signs, a small frown painted over his face as he derisively smiled, he didn't want to worry them, if anything he simply wished for their happiness— something he wasn't worthy of at the moment.

'Also, it seems Lord Makariy has made some progress regarding your medicine,' Shura pursed his lips, knitting his brows before sighing as he saw his Boss wasn't about to take a break. 'We are worried for you, My Lord. Won't you take some time off?'

Ryota hummed, he leaned into his seat in silence before his lips gently curved up into a smile. "Tell me Shuracchi," the pink head beamed at the appellation, knowing his Boss would take a pause. "Is everyone here?"

Shura shook his head. 'Sir Nijimura and Junichiro have yet to come back from their business trip. Lord Fuuta is currently acting as our link to the Vongola and cannot stay here. Otherwise, yes.'

Mikaël nodded his head, his gaze flickered to the calendar atop his desk, before settling on two circled dates. The first one was tomorrow, the second one was two days from now.

"Let's hold a banquet," he said as he stood up, dismissing the remaining on his work for some later time. "Two days from now, with everyone."

Shura grinned, he bowed. 'Yes, My Lord,' he signed before exiting the room, most probably to begin the preparations.

Ryota shook his head at the address, sighing. He didn't know if it was Devdas' education or Shura who was naturally stiff with procedures, but he had troubles getting accustomed to this name, even after so much time.

He walked around his study, ignoring the imposing stacks of paper waiting for him. His feet led him around the silent room, he paused before one of the many shelves.

His hand reached for a golden frame that faced down, he put it back correctly, letting the photograph see the light. His fingertips silently grazed the glass, hovering over each face and lingering on some for a second too long before he turned around, putting it down again, guilt coursing his golden eyes for a second before he forcefully repressed it.

His eyes glazed over for a second, but he blinked, and the dullness of his once cheerful irises came back. Maybe, had he not been so close to them— Maybe if he hadn't been so greedy, things would have been different.

He closed his eyes, tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. There was no use dwelling over spilled water, he couldn't bring back the dead. Only care for the livings.

He turned, marching to the door, his eyes momentarily pausing on a midnight blue box, next to it was a velvet colored one, visible scratches disfigured its once delicate embroidery.

He pursed his lips, reached for his walking stick, and exited the room.

Fleeing from his responsibilities for an instant.

::

"Heya Mika, did you miss me?" Jun cheekily asked as he waltzed to his friend, hands stuffed in his black blazer's pocket.

Ryota lifted his gaze from the book he was reading on one of the couch, he grinned at the sight of his previously equally dramatic friend. "Did I now?" He teased. "I wonder?"

Undeterred by his friend's jab, Junichiro happily slumped on the seat next to him. His eyes rested on the walking stick by the head of the sofa for an instant, before flickering away, disregarding it entirely.

"I know you did," he drawled with a laugh as he twirled a pen between his fingers. "Anyway, even if you didn't, I missed you enough for two," he confessed. His eyes crinkled as he gazed at his friend's relaxed demeanor— when was the last time Mikaël took a break?

"I'm flattered Juncchi."

"My, don't be, My Lord," Jun teased as he took a case from his pocket. He pulled his dark blue-rimmed glasses from it, having taken his lenses off beforehand.

Mikaël rolled his eyes, the amusement unhiden in his golden irises, smiling. "Welcome back," he said with a side glance.

Jun's grin stretched. "Say that all you want Mika, but I'll only be back once I've had my refill of Shu-chan."

Ryota chuckled. "I know."

::

Ryota calmly twirled the glass of vodka in his hands, the strong scent of alcohol hit his nose as he watched the translucent liquid go from one side to another.

His phone sat in front of him, and the low ticking of the clock echoed in the room. He took a sip of his drink, savoring the slightly bitter taste before putting it aside.

He wasn't particularly fond of vodka, honestly speaking he was more of a champagne or wine fan, but vodka reminded him of his father. Whenever he drank some, he would feel the man's presence, guiding him through his decisions, covering his back. It was reassuring, even if it only was a trick of his mind.

Both men were never close, they didn't love one another the way a father and son in a harmonious relationship usually did, their affection— if one called it such, was much more underhanded. Ryota didn't have any memory of Aleksey ever coaxing him, doting on him the way Zhihao did, then again when they first met he was long over twenty. Aleksey was more of a goal he had to reach to keep the Bratva safe than a model for him to follow if he ever entered fatherhood.

He took his phone, dialed a number and was greeted by the apathetic voice he loved so much—his only family. Well, more precisely, the screen before him lit up, showing two different groups of people.

"Voiii—"

Ah, had they already begun? He cleared his throat. "Good evening," he chirped, his Colgate smile in place as he looked at the camera with lusterless eyes.

Squalo cut himself, sending the green a glare through the screen. He was about to resume when the voices of the Vongola went through.

"Mika-senpai?" And a multitude of other greetings was thrown at him. Ryota smiled, waving, and barely acknowledging each of them with his eyes.

His eyes trained themselves on Reborn's figure, and a look of sadness flashed through his golden irises. "Reborn," he greeted with a nod which the hitman returned, tilting his fedora to digest the new information. "I hope Francchi hasn't been causing you too much trouble, Squalo," he said with a sly smile as he turned his attention to the Varia.

"Ha? Your shitty brat—"

"Big brother, Squalo-san's bullying me," Fran interrupted, poking his head in front of the camera, his face a perfect deadpan and his voice entirely flat as he occupied the whole screen.

Ryota chuckled. "Is that so," he tilted his head. "I love you too Francchi," he said, seemingly ignoring his brother's complaints.

"Voiii, don't interrupt me you shitty brat!" Squalo cried as he pushed the teen's face away from the camera.

"I call for child abuse."

"You, shut up trash!"

Ryota chuckled. "I'll have to trouble you some more Belphegor," he said, his smile a bit strained. "Please do not kill him," he added.

"Shishi, this Prince doesn't make promises."

Reborn lifted his head, noticing they had yet to stop their useless banter, though he supposed it eased their nerves, he cleared his throat.

"Mikaël, are you бриз's Boss?"

Ryota paused, his smile fell, dullness overtook his eyes before he frowned. "I am. My father passed away a few years ago. Thank you for your concern, Reborn," he said with a nod.

"My condolences."

Ryota waved his hand, a smile etched on his face. "It doesn't matter. What is in the past is in the past. We can't change it," he took a sip of his sitting vodka, the bitter liquid hitting his tastebuds— Hah, what a hypocrite he was, talking about not changing the course of time. "Anyway, we weren't close, to begin with."

Reborn hummed. "Can I take your presence or Fuuta's as the Vongola and бриз being allied?"

Ryota arced an eyebrow, he eyed the hitman in front of him for a second, incredulity flickering in and out of his gold irises. In the background, there was a knock at his door, 'small nephew,' he heard.

"Come in," Mikaël absentmindedly said, his finger tracing the rim of his glass. "Of course not. We are a neutral party," he answered, at last. "My Domain doesn't deal with alliances," his eyes glinted, and suddenly Reborn felt the one facing him wasn't Mikaël but Aleksey. "Only debts."

A somewhat familiar man in cheongsam appeared behind him and curiously peered at the camera. Ryota blinked, he cleared his throat. "I have to go, Fuuta, I'll call you later—"

"Yes, My Lord," Fuuta chirped, voice laced with laughter at the name.

Mikaël's feature seemed to smoothen at the boy's voice. "And Fran, behave," he added, sending his brother a look before grinning at the camera. He dipped his head Squalo's way. "If you could excuse my interruption Squalo. Have a good evening," he cut off the communication.

Zhiaho leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the male's back, he rested his head on his shoulder. "Isn't my small nephew tired?" He inquired in a whisper.

Ryota slightly leaned into the man's embrace, relishing in his comforting aura. "Little me will be even more tired. I should do everything I can to make it easier for him," he answered.

The ex-Sun Guardian narrowed his blue eyes, his lips curled up into a smile as he gave the younger man a light peck on the cheek. After many years honey potting, PDA was second nature to him.

"Don't fret, we'll take care of little nephew. So my small nephew needn't worry."

Mikaël smiled, leaning a bit more in the Chinese man's arms.

::

Ryota sat in the lounge, his eyes focused on the television which aired some fencing program. He was uninterested, but his mind happily absorbed the knowledge, copying, and making it, his.

Not far from him, Junichiro laid on the couch, his eyes on the ticking clock. The more the small hand moved, the tighter he knitted his brows.

Shura who rested in the crook of his arms pursed his lips. His slender fingers reached for the man's forehead, gently flicking him between his brows.

'Don't frown,' he signed. 'You'll look ugly.'

Jun chuckled, easing his frown, he gently pet his lover's hair. "But you'll still love me," he whispered, lovingly kissing the top of his head.

Shura pouted, he swatted the raven away, a light tint to his cheeks. 'Don't kiss me, dumbass.'

"Awww, is my Shu-chan shy?" Junichiro coaxed with a grin as his hands gently pinched the pink head's face.

Shura evaded his hands. 'Stop it—'

The living room filled itself with pink smoke, Shura's eyes sharpened. His ring lit up, suddenly green flames surrounded them all. He took his gun out, lightly hitting the handle.

It was Morse.

Jun chuckled. His arms snaked around his lover's worried figure, gently taking hold of his firearm. "Don't worry, that's only little Mika taking Mika's place," he whispered.

As if on cue, coughing sound came from beside them. Shura raised an eyebrow, dismissing his Flames. The pink cloud dissipated, and there, in front of the two adult Guardians, was a seventeen-year-old Mikaël.

Visibly confused.

мальчик/mal'chik/: boy, lad, youngster, houseboy, man-child

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

Thus Ryota/Mika arrives in the future!

Thanks for reading, until next time^^

Character pic:

-Aleksey Levin