Ryota rested his hands on his knees, back hunched, only the sound of his ragged breathing could be heard in the vast training room. Sweat beaded his face, slowly gliding along it until it fell to the ground in distinct droplets.

His golden eyes were hazy, clearly unfocused, and there was no strength left to furrow his brows or scrunch up his nose. He inhaled, trying to calm his breathing as he carefully stood straighter. A hand passed through his now slightly damp locks of green before he blinked.

His eyesight shifted to the shorter figure in front of him before he took another offensive stance. He swallowed his saliva, focusing his whole attention on the pink-haired boy, again.

Shura boredly stood a few meters away, a dagger, probably ten or so centimeters long in hand. He aimlessly fiddled with it, twirling it around his fingers, juggling with it. His every move was swift and deadly, showcasing his deftness and maturity in the art.

At last, he stopped, holding the arm by its blade. His blue eyes flickered to the green's figure, he scoffed, his left free hand moved, signing. 'Whenever you want.'

Ryota bit his lower lip, his hand reached for the blunt dagger given to him. After so many training sessions, he understood a few signing, not that he could hold a conversation, but it was enough for now.

He could feel his limbs tiredly holding his body up, preventing him from falling to the ground just yet. His head felt dizzy, and he knew he wouldn't hold up for a lot longer.

But to lose? Again? Against this person who kept on looking down on him? How could he accept it?

He gnashed his teeth, his ragged breathing back to normal before relaxing his shoulders. It was no use keeping them so tense. He closed his eyes, images of his past sparring experiences flashing through his mind.

His golden eyes snapped open, a haze of indigo blending with them. He bolted in the man's direction, his moves swift, unlike someone who had only begun to learn how to use a dagger.

If someone had told him he would use his skill to fight one day, he would have laughed. Ha, how times had changed.

::

"Say, Nijimura," Ryota called out from his seat on the black quilted sofa, his back hunched as he carefully went over the note the Rain Guardian had given him.

The older man hummed, merely flickering his grey hues to the younger boy as he continued to fill some papers at his desk.

"Does Shura hate me— no. I mean, why does he hate me?"

Shuzo cleanly ended his report putting it aside and setting his pen down on the wooden desk, he pushed himself off his seat before walking around his desk to the minibar on the side. "He doesn't hate you," the ex-basketball player said, opening the small fridge for a bottle of mineral water. "He simply doesn't acknowledge you," he answered, handing the drink to the teen.

Ryota nodded, green brows furrowed. He took the bottle and uncapped it before taking a sip of the cold beverage, a shiver went down his spine at the sensation of the cool liquid against his tongue before he reclined on the couch a pensive look etched on his face. Acknowledgment.

Shuzo leaned down to grab his cup that sat on the lowe table, sipping on his now lukewarm coffee— he momentarily frowned, disliking the taste after it cooled down. "You're too weak," he told. "And even if you're supposed to be Mika's younger self, you aren't the one he swore his loyalty to," he added, his steel-grey eyes staring straight into Mika's golden ones.

Ryota nodded, showing he understood. Of course, he and his older self weren't the same, therefore, having others treat him the same way would have been stranger. But, well, wasn't the contrast between himself and his other self a bit big?

Shuzo's lips quirked up, he stepped closer to the teen, gently ruffling his locks of green. "Don't dwell on it brat, you should focus on getting stronger," he taught. His eyes silently read the page the teen was at— Song Hye, Ella Conglomerate's president, before he added, "Anyway, as it is you wouldn't last for a second outside. Take Shura's beating as his way to show you his love," he told with a laugh. "He could kill you instead," he joked.

It seemed this possibility hadn't dawned on Mika before, he hurriedly nodded, silently thanking and hating the Gods for making Shura his sparring partner.

::

Zhihao silently stirred his drink before taking a sip of it. His blue eyes fluttered open, flickering from one figure to another as if checking if all of the required parties were present.

He put his ceramic teacup down, back straight and exuding the authority a natural sky would have, he took a white envelope from his cheongsam's inner pocket.

He laid it on the low table. "This is a message from the Millefiore," he casually began as if talking about the weather, immediately tension arose. Ryota frowned, quickly going over his memories to retrieve the knowledge of the foreign Famiglia.

"They are inquiring about our link to the Vongola, and whether we would sell them out or not," he said calmly taking his fan out to fan himself, visibly tired.

Silence settled in the boudoir as everyone mused over the older man's words, not dwelling on his unusually crude wording.

"It doesn't matter," Shuzo broke the silence. Arms crossed over his chest in an imposing manner, a tight frown was etched on his face as he kept his lips in a thin unreadable line. "бриз is no rat. We write the principles and follow them," he firmly stated.

Junichiro nodded in agreement, his usually cheery demeanor gone to leave behind the picture of seriousness. "I agree with Shuzo, although Mikaël is not here anymore, we shouldn't let others trample on us as they like," he lowered his lashes, biting his lower lip before brushing his black locks back. "Even without a Lord, we remain бриз, nobody is entitled to order us," he snarled, slamming his fist on the desk.

Ryota looked at his two friends' older self with mild astonishment. Though he knew they weren't the same people, he hadn't expected them to be so devoted to a group of criminal—

He mentally winced. Criminals. He wasn't in a place where he could utter such words. After all, his survival depended on those people who sheltered him.

There was a light tap on the glass of the table, and everyone turned to face the pink-haired Guardian. 'My Lord would be greatly disappointed if we were to surrender ourselves to the ones who once offended us.'

Mikaël momentarily frowned, unable to understand the pink-haired Lightning Guardian.

Zhihao's lips quirked up in a smile as he hummed. "True," he whispered, neatly closing his intricately decorated fan before sipping on his tea. "Well, truth be told, I have also received a notice from little Fuuta," he confessed with a light chuckle.

"It appears the young Vongola have decided to strike," he paused, blue eyes drifting to the side. "It seems the Varia has issued another assault in Italy, the momentum is good, they should succeed," he added, voice trailing off as a light frown painted his face.

This peaked the Bratva's attention and somehow unnoticeably lifted their mood and the palpable tension.

"I do not have the details, but it was enough to give the little rat some leaks," he confided with a smirk. Eyes narrowed as they glinted with a yellowish-orange.

Ryota observed the conversation, never adding a comment, he was thoroughly lost, unable to process all of the information and hidden meanings. He had no control over the situation.

Minutes passed, and the more he heard, the less he understood. A light knock at the door stopped all chatter, enabling Mikaël to regain some composure and hopefully, a bit of momentum in this room filled to the brim with experienced mafia men and negotiators.

The door was pushed open, revealing the smaller figure of a caped man. Ryota knitted his brows, recognizing the plague mask the man wore as he strode into the boudoir.

"Makariy," Zhihao politely greeted with a dip of his head.

The introverted male merely nodded in acknowledgment, humming before dipping his head at the others in the room. "Natalia," he voiced when he laid his eyes on the older woman.

"Makariy," she returned as she stood from her seat, knowing what he wanted without him uttering any more words. "Shall I pour you a drink?"

He nodded, "please," not bothering to tell her more as she would already know his request. At last, he settled his hidden gaze on Mikaël. He tilted his head to the side, unsure. Who?

"I didn't know My Lord had a child," he listlessly said, the curiosity he felt barely dripping from his voice. "And for him to be so old already," his voice trailed off. "He must have had one when he was young," he concluded, nodding to himself.

Ryota deadpanned, this man was his rumored future self's Cloud Guardian? The same his father once had? The one who extracted something from him while in Tokyo? He had troubles acknowledging it, after all, he seemed so out of it.

Unbothered and unconcerned by anything but his researches. It appeared the others had already predicted Makariy's behavior, they didn't bother to comment on it instead ushered him to tell them why he had come out of his laboratory.

Makariy sat, politely accepting the cup of hot cocoa with a small thanks he settled in on the low table before him. "The serum for My Lord's legs is ready," he finally said, and Mika swore he saw Shura's eyes glint with delight, much like most of the other people's. "Where is he?" Instantly, their mood— especially Shura's, plummeted.

"About that—"

Ryota cleared his throat. "I'm Mikaël Lamarre, a pleasure," he introduced with a perfect Colgate smile plastered on his face.

Makariy looked. He tilted his head before his gloved hands reached to untie his mask, revealing a pale face with a scar covering half of it. He blinked his reddish eyes, humming. "Oh, Makariy" he answered unimpressed.

"How strange for you to have the same name as your father."

::

Shura starred down at Mikaël's figure in complete silence. His gaze flickered to Junichiro on the side who enthusiastically waved at him upon feeling the pink-haired boy's gaze on him, and he sighed. 'He passes,' he signed, retrieving a dry towel from his boyfriend as he tucked his dagger in its sheath.

"Really? Great! Little Mika did you see? You pass!" he exclaimed, waving at the teen who breathlessly laid on the ground. He barely received a slow wave of a hand in answer.

Shura rolled his eyes. 'At least he should survive if he meets some hostile parties,' he specified, lips pursed.

"Awesome, little Mika you won't immediately die if you go out!"

Ryota groaned, rolling on the ground to lay on his stomach. He lifted his head, hazy golden hues met brilliant brown. "Great-ssu," he muttered.

::

"Allô?" Came the dull voice of Fran through the receiver. "Is big brother here?" he asked switching from French to fluent English as he sensed the one on the other side of the line wasn't Mikaël.

Natalia hummed. "Good evening to you too, Francis," she greeted evenly. Her eyes settled on her wristwatch, gauging the time before she resumed. "Mikaël should be here in a few minutes."

Fran nodded, though the woman wouldn't be able to see it, before frowning. "Mikaël? You don't call big brother Lord anymore?" He wondered, his dull voice tinted with curiosity at the new prospect.

Natalia didn't answer immediately, further enhancing the teen's curious nature. "His Lordship took part in the Vongola Don's plans," she admitted, making the green raise a curious eyebrow.

Fran pondered in silence what this plan could be before he remembered that call Squalo made a few weeks ago. Weren't the Vongola kids at the time?

"Therefore, His Lordship, at present, has reverted to his younger self. He should be seventeen years old," she said, confirming the younger boy's speculation.

Fran blinked, he frowned. "A younger big brother?" Silence fell as he did some quick math before sighing. "Ah, it seems big brother is still the oldest," he lamented with a deadpan.

Natalia nodded. "It seems so."

Fran hummed to himself, he lightly tilted his head to the side, his gaze falling on what remained of the fort the Varia had defended. He could see the other Varia members from where he stood, each at their own occupation.

"Well, I'll come to Moscou tomorrow morning to pick big brother up," he stated, not asking for the older woman's opinion. "Even if he's younger, I think master will be pleased to see him," he added.

Natalia blinked, her mind quickly went over the multitude of agenda the Bratva possessed before she nodded. "It should be doable," she finally agreed.

"We'll have him ready. Although, I must ask for your cooperation when needed," Natalia bargained, shamelessly using the teen in their charge as a bargaining chip. Asking the others for their consent was useless, for sure Nijimura and Hirose wouldn't give it, deciding herself was less of a headache.

"Sure," Fran agreed with a yawn.

Anyway, even if she was to disagree she could bet Fran would come and kidnap his brother for him to come. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. How hard was abducting a target that wanted to go?

Allô: Hello (onomatopeia frequently used as a form of greetings while on the phone to catch the others attention)

Thank you for reading, until next time^^