"Oh my, what could this be?"

A light smile painted the man's usually blank face as he stared at the pair of jewelry in his hands.

"A token of my affection."

She laughed.

"Not a shackle to bind me?"

The man's golden irises darkened, tinting themselves in violent crimson at the thought of owning her.

"I wish."

The woman carefully grasped the ring, playing with it as she glanced at the earring.

"Don't worry, I have enough to bind me to you already."

The man's golden eyes widened a fraction at her words as he neared her, carefully clipping the earing on her right earlobe.

"Really?"

An amused smile crept up her face as she cupped one of the male's cheek, her other hand remaining on her torso as she leaned in his arms.

"Truly."

The man didn't add a word, gently pecking her cheek he adopted his poker face once again, a ghost of a frown adorning his features at her words.

"I have to go back to Russia, will you come?"

She shook her head in silent denial.

"There's no need. I'll wait for you here."

He didn't add a word, relishing in her comforting scent before taking in those breathtaking pair of eyes one last time.

Oh, how he wished he could trust her words.

But she was The Fool, lying was part of her routine. She wouldn't wait, he knew.

.

.

Ha, that old madame was right. At that time he was the foolish one, thinking he understood her hidden message.

::

Golden eyes sprung open to come face to face with a dark ceiling. Only the thin rays of the moonlight threaded through the chamber's thick curtains, casting a large shadow over the room.

The man blinked, minutely narrowing his eyes as he took in his surroundings, remembering where he was and the moment in time. He exhaled a somewhat shaky sigh, his hand carefully rubbing the creases between his brows before letting his forearm fall over his face.

He closed his eyes. It was a dream. A vivid one, those he loved yet hated the most. They sent his skin crawling in discomfort while tingling it with pleasurable shivers.

Aleksey quietly rolled to his side, his face looking in the door's direction. These days those old dreams were more recurrent, ever since he learned of Mikaël's existence— ever since they met, he couldn't get her out of his head.

Like a ghost, she haunted his dreams, making him unable to get one peaceful night of sleep. His golden eyes kept close he could see her, the way her long lush green hair would flutter in the wind with her bell-like laughter gently echoing in the background.

He saw her every gesture, each one more graceful and endearing than the previous one yet oh so deadly and dangerous, a bewitching sight to his cold and unfeeling heart.

He wondered to himself, maybe if he had trusted her words that time she would still be there? He scratched those thoughts as fast as they came, grunting in disapproval. Even if he brought her back— she was pregnant, it wouldn't have changed a thing.

Aleksey wasn't a family man. He didn't wish for a child in the first place.

With her, of course, he wanted a family, a place to call his home, his own. One he wouldn't share with the Bratva but greedily keep to himself. It was a beautiful dream, an unattainable goal.

He knew better than anyone how deadly and heartless the underworld was, no matter all the glamour around it, the rotting smell of death wouldn't leave it. A child was a burden, a lover too.

But for Alice, maybe he was willing to take a lover— a burden. And as a Guardian, she would be protected. It was simply wishful thinking. She was no more, and Aleksey didn't plan on granting himself another burden— another chance at losing, at acting foolishly.

Aleksey didn't need a child. Therefore, he didn't need Mikaël.

The Russian mafia boss silently blinked, opening his eyes to grab his phone and take the time. Almost five, he mused yawning before sitting up on his king-sized bed. His hand absentmindedly reached for the switch by his bed as he stretched, turning on the light.

His half-lidded eyes quickly adjusted themselves to the brightness of the artificial lighting as they mechanically roamed his room. He spotted a cream-colored envelope on the desk near his windowsill.

The Vongola. Japan. Tusnayoshi. A successor.

A successor.

Mikaël.

He leaned against the wooden headboard of his grand bed. Perhaps, he should try to groom the boy. Who knew, he could be a good pawn to turn into a successor. At least, he showed potential.

He wasn't dead, yet.

::

"—What do you mean Hong-Kong," Ryota repeated with some apprehension as he stared at the Chinese man in front of him.

Zhihao merely sipped on his beverage, slightly relieving his fatigue. He only came back from a business trip yesterday in the late night, and his body felt sore all over. Sleepiness loomed over his figure but in used practice, he kept himself fresh and proper, seeming perfectly fine.

"It is exactly as it sounds—" the man unnoticeably paused, unsure of the way he should address the boy. "—Mikaël, you shall set out to Honk-Kong with me tonight," he explained, settling for calling the teen by his name. It didn't feel right to call the green otherwise, after all, unlike his future self they weren't so close as to call each other uncle and nephew. 

Ryota rubbed his left earlobe, frowning. Why send him away? He hadn't done anything to irk the silvery blond-haired man, he didn't think so at least. And he wasn't valuable enough to be groomed and kept by the infamous Bratva— or so he believed.

Perhaps the Chinese man sensed the younger male's discomfort, or maybe he was bored, but he set his ceramic cup down on the low table. In a swift movement, he retrieved the fan resting on his lap and opened it, gently fanning himself. "Do not think too much of it," he said, pulling the teen out of his musings. "It is merely a test to see whether you are worth Lyosha's time or not."

Ryota blinked his golden eyes at the man, Lyosha, he didn't think the both of them were so close. At least, he didn't remember any other member acting so familiar with the Russian Boss until he heard the Chinese man. "A test?" He repeated, confused by the way those simple words rolled off his tongue.

Zhihao hummed, waving his hand at one of his attendants for them to take out the used crockery from the table. "Yes, for you to prove yourself."

«Prove yourself.»

Ryota frowned, the words left on a note for him to read after the battle with the Varia echoed in his mind.

::

"Third Young Master," a man, probably in his late fifties greeted at the sight of the young Chinese Bratva man as he stepped inside the grand propriety. The man wore a traditional kimono not suited to fighting in any way as he gave the raven head a low bow in greeting, giving a furtive glance at the green head behind he refrained himself from showing anymore surprise. "And who might this be?"

Zhihao waved his hand dismissively, the fatigue of his travel and the cumulated jet lag catching up to him, he hadn't had a good nap in a long time and it began to aggravate him. "A guest," he curtly answered, walking past the older man and not waiting for Mikaël to follow him.

With confident strides, he walked into the 遗忘 Triad's headquarters. His steps were even as he made his way to the grand hall where, judging by the time, his father should be. "Is Master there?"

The attendant hurriedly gathered his nerves, instantly knowing which Master the man referred to, quickly following the man's steps. His eyes never left the back of the younger raven head as he kept them reverently lowered. "No, Young Master. We haven't seen the Master inside the compound for a while. But I heard he was last seen in Hong-Kong," he carefully provided.

Zhihao hummed, dismissing the man's answer he continued his walk in pregnant silence, not bothering to greet the servants and men who stopped to pay their respect except if they were high graded members of the Triad. He would need to contact the man, with him it would be easier. As if on cue, he felt a slight vibration near his chest. His lips quirked up, not bothering to check the message just yet, as expected of Master.

Ryota easily kept up with the Chinese man's long strides. His legs were long, longer than the older man and he was long used to quick walking while working as a pilot. Walking from one side of the airports to the other was a daily occurrence in his past life.

His golden eyes remained stuck on the blue-eyed man's back, contemplating the intricate embroidery of the male's blue cheongsam as he tried to make the most of the words he understood. He wasn't proficient in Chinese in any way, his past self hadn't learned it and neither did his present self. He had some notions from his life as a pilot, ranging from the security protocol to casual greetings but such conversations weren't at his level.

Fortunately, Ryota had once been an amateur of Dramas— Chinese and Korean ones, and although it was a long time ago, in his last teenager years, some notions remained. Specifically, he managed to understand "Master" and "Young Master." It wasn't much, but it was that nonetheless. He didn't have time to muse on these thoughts much longer as Zhihao came to an abrupt halt in front of a sliding paper door.

The Chinese man paused, taking a deep breath he plastered one of his famed smile on his face, gently narrowing his mesmerizing pools of blue, he pulled his fan out from his sleeve, opening it before ordering to the attendant by his side to slide the door open for him.

"Wait there," he decreed, not sparring Mikaël a single glance.

Ryota mutely nodded, his golden eyes already roaming the long corridor and small inner garden as he waited for the man to come back.

::

If Junichiro hated one thing, it was being alone. That, and seeing others get hurt. His cheek resting on his hand, the raven head boredly stared out the window, contemplating the forms of the student running around the stadium in their P.E. uniform. Usually, he would laugh at them, relishing in their pain as they tried their best to keep up with the P.E. teacher's requirements, but at the moment there was no amusement, only pure boredom

The words of his physic teacher entered his ears in a filtered way, getting out from his head just as quick as they came in as he mulled over his friend's disappearance— again.

He heaved a sigh, his dark brown eyes rolling to stare at the ceiling as he rested his chin on his open exercise book. How many times did Mikaël ditch him this year already? He closed his eyes, counting for a second before scrunching his nose and huffing. Too many times.

He didn't know if Mikaël had some family issues going on in France— ones that warranted his absence or if his job as a model consumed too much time, but it fed him up quite a bit. After all, Mikaël rarely if never warned him before vanishing.

The bell rang, signaling the end of his musing session and he decided to stay slumped over his desk a few more seconds, ignoring the homework his teacher gave. He would ask the class representative later. He absentmindedly answered and waved at a few of his classmates before sighing.

He closed his eyes, only to reopen them as two loud voices echoed in the corridor, he groaned. The first years were making another fuss. Ever since the transfer of the Simon students three days ago the already loud first year— Sasagawa, got louder, dumbly competing with the new boy.

Okay, maybe Junichiro was a bit negative. They weren't so annoying, only getting on his nerves as it reminded him that Mikaël wasn't there. What's more, he didn't help in keeping them calm, his actions only fueled their excitement. He sighed, feeling someone get closer to him— he was no genius, he didn't need to raise his head to know who it was.

"Hirose-senpai!" Junichiro groaned, already rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Please witness our showdown!"

The raven head bit his lower lip, sitting up to look up at the two younger boys. At least, although they were annoyingly loud— not that he himself wasn't, they would get his mind off of Mikaël for a bit. He didn't like brooding over the green head like he was his lover, his heart already belonged to the pink-haired beauty of his dreams.

He blinked his eyes from behind his black-rimmed glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as a smile crept up his face, already throwing Mikaël at the back of his mind.

"Sure, sure," he enthusiastically agreed, standing up and patting both males' back. At the end of the day, Junichiro dedicated his life to parties, he wasn't one to miss on something fun.

"Yosh, let's see who can EXTREMELY run around the school campus before the next bell!"

::

"Shhh, don't worry Francis, Mamie's here," Renée tried to soothe as she cradled the young boy's hand in her lap. Her voice was a bit shaky as she remembered how he fell the previous morning, the blood and his lifeless body on the ground of the dining room.

She felt so scared at the time.

Her wrinkled hands gripped at her grandson's white hand. Maybe, once Francis woke up, she should call Mikaël, make sure he's okay, have him spend some time with his little brother— with her.

But Mikaël was so busy, juggling between modeling and school. It was his dream he worked toward in Japan. It was the place he wished to be since day one. How could she take it away from him for her selfish desires?

Renée's palish green eyes trailed to her flip phone at the bedside as she hesitantly reached for it.

Oh, how she wished to see his face. When was the last time they spoke without a screen separating them?

Her wrinkled fingers hovered over her phone's keyboard for a few seconds. She took a deep breath, never letting go of Fran's small hand, and typed.

From: Me

To: Mikaël

Bonjour mon Mikaël, how are you doing—

遗忘/Yíwàng/: forgotten 

Next chapter, appears a Canon character that hasn't made its appearance yet (if I remember correctly), also it will make the transition between the end of this Arc and the more Canon one to come^^

Thanks for reading, until next time^^