"Before anything, you should know that even if we swore to protect you, it doesn't mean you are safe," he carefully instructed as he stood before the green-haired teen. Ryota nodded, his lips thinning as he took in the seriousness of the situation.

The man released a sigh, probably relieved by the understanding the teen displayed. "Good," he nodded. His eyes flickered to the boxes hanging at the boy's belt, and he bit his lower lip. He brushed his black locks back, narrowing his eyes at them, resigned.

"Miroir," Ryota's eyes darted to his waist to settle on the box with an indigo linning, his hand unconsciously reaching to graze it. "Miroir will be your best weapon," the adult stressed. "It will raise your chance of survival by at least a tenfold. And, although it pains me to admit it, Miroir will be more useful to you than any of us," he explained, a faraway look in his eyes as he gave the teen a deprecative smile.

Mikaël lowered his sight, evading the troubled look in his friend's future self. He nodded, gently stroking the edge of the supposedly powerful weapon by his side. He wasn't clear on its strength, or the way to use it, but he didn't ask.

Somehow knowing it wasn't necessary. Once Ryota saw Miroir, he would know. He could feel it.

The man sighed, he closed his steel-grey eyes, lightly rubbing the bridge of his nose, before fluttering them open at once. Gone was his troubled expression and back was his poker face, his eyes which displayed unmeasurable sorrow.

"I apologize on behalf of Mika for calling you here," he said, giving the teen a bow. "We'll work to keep you alive, therefore—" he cut himself, pursing his lips before silently exhaling. "Therefore, do not concern yourself with us more than you should."

Ryota widened his golden eyes he opened his mouth ready to snap back at the older man but was stopped by a sharp move of the other's hand.

"Let us be honest, brat, we do not know each other," he interrupted. "The Me from ten years ago and the Me from today have nothing to do with one another, don't they?" he rhetorically asked, voice laced with a hidden sadness as his greyish eyes squarely stared into the others pool of gold.

Ryota mechanically reached for his earlobe to rub it and, the male smiled. He chuckled, unmistakenly depressed and relieved at the same time before ruffling the boy's green locks.

"It's good that you are aware of it, that way you won't get attached," he taught. "Take us for a fragment of your imagination, a projection of a distant future which will hopefully never happen," he asked, almost begging the teen.

Ryota hadn't answered the man, Shuzo had already turned around to join the others at the back, where the logistic members were situated.

Jun quietly sauntered to the teen. "Don't worry about what Shuzo said," he reassured with a grin, grabbing the teen's shoulder and gently pushing him in the opposite direction. "He was only trying to scare you, make you more guarded," he explained.

Mikaël lifted his golden hues from his feet, flickering them to rest on the raven's slightly smaller's figure. "Is that so," he absentmindedly muttered.

Junichiro gave an enthusiastic nod as he hummed to confirm his previous words. "Of course, you don't have to worry, we'll— I'll protect you," he promised.

Ryota gave the man a skeptic look. He wanted to believe, but he couldn't help the doubt burning in his chest.

Junichiro perceived it, he laughed, crinkling his eyes in reminiscence. "When was the last time Mika looked at me with those eyes?" he wondered to himself as his fingers carefully traced the teen's golden eyes.

"You know, it's true we can be considered strangers," he simpered. "But I once promised that: if it's you, Mika, I wouldn't mind giving up my life," he quoted with a grin. "And even if little Mika isn't Mika, at the end of the day, Mika without little Mika wouldn't be."

Ryota rubbed his earlobe, feeling the two piercings under his fingertips as he nodded in understanding. He simpered, somewhat happy at the words the older uttered. He remembered them like it was yesterday.

The way his friend had vowed right before the battle against the Varia.

He chuckled, such a great souvenir.

::

"So that is me?"

"No, this is Miroir."

Ryota dumbly stared, unable to process everything which was happening around him. The violence, the blood, the death, so this was the meaning of war, he thought in a daze.

He could vaguely make out the hushed chatter of the people behind him, mostly bickering and complaints, but he didn't take note of it, too preoccupied with the scene in front of him.

With the gore, the way each one of the people he knew got torn into shreds, it was all so horrifying, straight out of a horror film. The scene of his plane crash couldn't compare to it.

He brought a hand to his mouth, eyes dilated, breathing ragged, it seemed his brain processed every bit of information, hitting him straight in the guts. He felt like puking, his head spun. He was dizzy, tired. He wanted to get out of here, back to Namimori, to his peaceful life as a student, with Junichiro to joke with, and Shuzo to scold him. Back to France, with his beloved brother and grandma—

Ah, mamiecchi, was she even alive? If not, did she die peacefully or was she yet another victim? The thought snapped him out of his daze, and he forgot all about the nauseous feelings he developed.

He blinked.

"Those events, they are in the past, and for you, it's a faraway future. When you go back to your time, you'll be able to change it."

Nijimura's words echoed in his head, soothing his nerves, the mere thought of the raven head did miracles to the teen's mind, and in seconds he was back to his usual composed self. He steadily inhaled and exhaled before turning to face the two other Mist Flame users by his side.

Mukuro's lips quirked up in a sly grin, and he chuckled. "Kufufu, well, shouldn't we come out to greet our hosts?" he drawled, both amusement and venom lacing his voice as he gave his pupil and the other being holding the illusion a look.

Fran numbly hummed, seemingly unbothered he gave out a tired yawn. "At last," he muttered, undoubtedly trying to provoke the blue head beside him. It worked, as he soon received a bonk on the head from the older man.

Beside them, the tall green-headed being blinked its empty indigo pupils neither agreeing nor disagreeing, it solely turned to look at Ryota's smaller form.

Mikaël quietly exhaled before confidently nodding. He wasn't clear on his family's situation, he barely knew of his friends' for all it mattered, but as Shuzo said, this was only a distant future. Something he could change if he went back to his time.

Therefore, he would do it. He would change it all, keep them all alive.

And if to do so, he needed to use others as tools he wouldn't hesitate. How was it different from manipulating others with a smile in peaceful times?

He plastered a brilliant grin on his face, beaming at the two males by his side and momentarily startling both of them and those who looked at them from afar.

"Mou, of course, I am!" he chirped, voice pleasing and devoid of any fear, trepidation, tension, or any emotion usually displayed in such situations. Why would he need such feelings? Hiding everything behind fake cheeriness was much more manageable.

He missed the distressed look of his friends' future selfs as he went to order Miroir to break the illusion, following Mukuro's schemes.

Ah, was he doomed to a life of fakeness?

::

"Let's wrap this up!" Ryota sang, grabbing the retractable stick from his belt a twirling it around his fingers. The gesture was too smooth for a novice. It oozed of experience, yet it was only his second time touching it.

He pressed a button, and it lengthened, thining as it did so to appear like a fencing sword. "I'm not used to this, but it shouldn't be hard, right?" he questioned, his golden eyes shining with mischief as he openly provoked the people before him, much like the other two illusionists.

"Anyway, Miroir, I'll be counting on you," the silhouette by his side, which bore a striking resemblance with himself, bowed. It extended its limb, a rapier morphing itself from the haze of indigo, before rushing at the people in front.

It didn't take more for the Vongola and its allied members to join the assault against the two Funeral Wreaths.

Lips curled up into a cynical smile, a light chuckle escaped them, as the man gently drummed his slender fingers on his tattoed cheek.

"It's the Final Act," he hummed, watching as his alter ego took off.

And it truly was. The tumultuous battleground transformed into a living cemetery as the otherworldly being steadily made its way through it.

Ryota's golden eyes merely flickered to it. He hummed to himself, deflecting another one of the stray bullets coming at him, a technic copied from Squalo earlier.

He lent an ear to the other Millefiore members, trying to understand why the atmosphere had a sudden shift upon the naked man's appearance. Well, if that thing was human.

Maybe, had it been forty years before, Ryota would have launched a preemptive strike on it, much like Hayato. But Mikaël had long since graduated from the reckless nature of teenagers or young adults.

He did what his beloved taught him, he sat back, not interfering in the slightest, only defending his position, and he observed. He seized the man up and down, concluding in the deepest part of himself that this thing wasn't human, at least not anymore.

He had a vague feeling of familiarity, similar to the one he shared with Mukuro as if it also came from a different life, but it limited itself to that. He didn't pursue the matter. His attention was prompt to go back to the issue at hand.

The way nothing grazed it, passing through its core before disappearing— No, it was more appropriate to say that he absorbed them, leaving nothing behind.

Ryota's grin faltered, the reality seemed to catch up to him as he watched the blue-haired girl— Bluebell was it, get sucked to death, leaving only a dried corpse which was quick to disintegrate into dust.

He didn't move, too shocked by the sudden slaughter in front of him. The ongoing carnage, he didn't see the long slimy limb which darted his way. He didn't react to the sudden pull on his shirt, taking him out of the dangerous appendage's way.

He also didn't notice the mop of black which, following the pendulum effect, took his place, promptly losing all of its Sun Flames. He faintly heard some words of relief from the figure, a saddened smile engraving itself in his mind as he numbly watched the man in front of him—

His Guardian, turn to dust.

Aha? He numbly blinked, feeling something in the deepest part of himself break. The output of flame in his ring receded, making Miroir disappear in a cloud of indigo.

How strange, why would he cry for a tool? For a stranger?

He didn't have the time to get himself together. His vision blurry with unshed tears as he fell to the ground, he barely discerned a pink haze running up to them.

He didn't hear what it said, did it even speak? The figure crouched beside them, breathless, it took some objects, laying on the ground—

Weren't those his friend's belongings?

He wasn't sure. He didn't have time to think, the figure got closer to him, and in a flash, all turned to black. He lost consciousness, the last thing he saw, behind the pink form, was a brilliant orange flame.

How pretty, he mused to himself, closing his eyes.

And perhaps, was it better than way, for him not to know more, for him not to see more than what he already saw. With how unstable his psychism was upon witnessing death— Not his, but someone else's, someone dear to him, he was only dead weight.

It appeared, he wasn't as immune to the notion of eternal sleep as he thought he was.

Ah, what he wouldn't give for one of Jun's tasteless jokes right now.

Thank you for reading, 

About Miroir, it basically can copy a being and more or less reproduce its ability, in this case, future Ryota/Mikaël's skills. Also, Future Arc is steadily coming to its end, 

Until next time^^