"Stand up, one more time Mikaël," the raven-haired man ordered in fluent Japanese, voice smooth and gentle with a definite edge to it.

Ryota panted, his sham grin nowhere to be seen he gritted his teeth. A hand on his knee while the other rested on the ground he propelled himself up, awkwardly standing up. His footing was unstable, making him slightly totter from side to side— much like a newborn learning to walk before he steadied his standing.

The hand previously resting on the floor rashly went through his damp green locks, pushing them out of his face before grabbing the hem of his shirt and wiping his face off the sweat. He closed his golden eyes, trying to regulate his breathing and the pace of his heart before snapping them open, letting a flurry of indigo course through them as he ingested every one of the moves shown to him, making them his.

"Thank you— for your guidance," he managed to answer between uneven pants as he readied his fighting stance. His right foot gently glided against the floor in a semi-circular motion soon taking place behind his left one. He raised both his hands, his breathing got more regular and exhaled.

The braided man smirked, he didn't adopt any fighting stance, merely observing the teen's movement and nodding to himself. As expected, he mused, waltzing closer to the teen. His hands rested behind his back as he swiftly made his way over to take a closer look at the boy's position.

"You are truly gifted, Mikaël," the petite man praised, his sharp eyes carefully scrutinizing the boy's form. He walked around the green head, soon standing behind him and without warning sent his small body forward for a powerful kick in the back— in the teen's blind spot.

Ryota's shoulders tensed at the impact, his body jerked forward and in what appeared to be used practice both his hands reached for the floor, cushioning his fall. It went quickly, but his body answered faster than his mind ever could and reflexively he rolled on the ground, easily standing right back up to turn and look at the Arcobaleno.

Fon chuckled, both his hands clasped behind his back he didn't appear fazed or disheveled in any sort from his previous kick. "Gifted," he reiterated as he walked closer to Mikaël, "but a bit overconfident nonetheless," the Storm drawled, making the green head's stance momentarily stiffen before it turned more guarded.

Ryota nervously listened to the martial artist, taking every one of his words like a sponge, trying not to miss any of them or their undertone.

Fon paused, his brown eyes boring into Mikaël's golden irises before the Arcobaleno pulled a brilliant smile. "Let's take a break," he said, spinning on himself to go to his older pupil. The smile on Fon's face turned more genuine at the sight on his calm student's figure.

The man silently sipped on his tea, minutely dozing off yet keeping his guard up and a tight grip on his metallic fan. His half-lidded blue eyes distantly stared at the greenish color of his tea, contently inhaling its fragrance.

"How is little Chen doing?" the Storm Arcobaleno addressed as he casually took a seat opposing the Chinese man, slipping to his mother tongue. "Has Aleksey been treating you well?"

Zhihao snapped out of his dazed state, he straightened his posture, respectfully bowing to the petite man before pouring him a cup of freshly brewed green tea. "Thanking Master for his guidance," he customarily began as he set the ceramic teapot aside. "Lyosha has been treating me well."

Fon hummed, not minding the overly polite attitude the Bratva man displayed. The Arcobaleno's eyes flickered to Mikaël's figure, the teen was repeating some katas he showed him at the beginning of their session. "Was it one of Aleksey's request, to train little Mikaël?"

Zhihao's lips which hovered over his cup took a quiet sip of his beverage. "It wasn't, Master," he squarely answered. "Lyosha merely wants Mikaël to prove himself to the Bratva and see whether or not he is worth his attention."

Fon didn't answer, sipping on his smaller cup he closed his eyes. "It is Little Martial Brother to you, little Chen," the Arcobaleno corrected. "After all, little Mikaël is my student, much like you. Both of you are Martial Brothers."

A flash of surprise went through the Sun's blue irises but he quickly washed it away, nodding. "Apologies Master, this disciple wasn't careful enough," he stated with a bow. Zhihao's eyes flickered to Mikaël's figure and he couldn't help the satisfaction from wheeling up in his chest. As expected, Master Fon recognized him as his pupil.

"Tell me, little Chen, when do you plan on leaving?"

Zhihao closed his eyes in thoughts, his finger gently tracing the rim of his ceramic cup. "Martial Brother and I will probably depart tomorrow night," he answered, easily adopting Mikaël's new nickname. "Master is surely already aware of the Vongola's upcoming Inherintace Ceremony?" the Sun Guardian rhetorically asked. "As part of My Lord's delegation, this disciple's presence is warranted," he explained.

Fon hummed. "What of little Mikaël?"

"My Lord entrusted this disciple with Little Martial Brother, we shall depart together."

A chuckle slipped past the Arcobaleno's parted lips. "I see, then let's make the most of our time," with these words he stood up and made his way closer to the green-haired teen, leaving his small monkey— Lichi, in Zhiaho's care. "Raise your right hand a bit more, Mikaël," he instructed.

Smoothly, Ryota morphed his posture to fit the Arcobaleno's words.

::

"Thank you for your guidance, Sir Zhihao—"

"Elder Martial Brother will suffice," the Chinese man cut with a serene smile as both males walked down the private jet's aisle. The flight from Hong-Kong to Tokyo was a short one and both males were now in Japan. "If you don't, Master will scold me," the Guardian developed.

Ryota paused, one of his sham grin creeping up his face as he nodded. "Of course, Elder Martial Brother," he conceded. Calling the man this way didn't put him at any disadvantage, on the contrary, it gave him some footing in the underworld and made Zhihao seem like a backer. There were only benefits for him.

Zhihao's smile stretched as he gently patted the slightly taller male's head in appreciation. Sure they weren't as close as their Future counterparts, but their trip to Hong-Kong and intensive training session with Fon had undeniably brought them closer. What's more, with the lingering feelings their future self gave them it was an easy feat for them to get along.

"Tell me Little Martial Brother, would you like to come to the inheritance ceremony with me or shall I drop you off at Namimori?" the raven head offered, lightly fanning the lower part of his face as he spared the green a side glance.

Ryota who walked a step behind the Chinese man, as if acknowledging their different status, gave a small nod, his smile turning a bit more genuine. "If it is not too much trouble, then I will be in your care Elder Martial Brother," he agreed, slightly bowing his head in both thanks and respect.

Zhihao contently hummed, not minding the glances both of them received as they conversed in Russian. "Good—" he turned to face one of his attendants, slipping to Chinese for a second, his voice turned sharper and more dominating. "—drop my luggage at the headquarter," he smoothly ordered before giving his attention back to the teen.

The aid merely bowed, voicing their agreement before picking up their pace and leading the Sun's luggage to one of the waiting limousines. Ryota followed the adults' moves in mild curiosity. He didn't understand Chinese and though he more or less guessed what was going on it didn't satiate his innate curious nature.

Perhaps Zhiaho sensed Mikaël's interest, he chuckled, catching the green's attention in the process. "Shall this Elder Martial Brother teach his Little Martial Brother some Chinese?" he inquired, voice laced with laughter.

Ryota blinked, refraining himself from beaming— although the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him, he tentatively nodded. "Just enough to understand Martial Brother," he complied, a light shade of pink tinting his white cheeks in embarrassment.

The blue-eyed male simpered, humming to himself as he led the way to the sleek vehicle parked for them outside. The chauffeur who waited for them opened the back door in used practice, politely greeting both males in the process before closing the door and grabbing Mikaël's luggage and putting them in the trunk.

Zhihao made himself comfortable, crossing his legs before setting his metallic fan aside and taking a book from one of the small shelves of the limousine. He flipped through it, easily finding where he last stopped and resumed his reading on Japanese mythology. The man was very fond of myths.

Silence settled for a second before he glanced up. "What is your address, Little Martial Brother?" he asked in Japanese, picking the chauffeur's interest as he readied himself to turn the vehicle on and drive them to their desired destination.

::

"Right, Little Martial Brother, while I'm in Japan if you need anything do not hesitate to contact me will you?" the Chinese man asked from his seat in the limousine as he spoke to the teen who stood outside the car.

Ryota nodded, a plastic smile on his face. Why should he reach out to him? What told him it wasn't a scheme to keep an eye on him? He didn't voice his concern and silently agreed to the man's words, it could always come in handy.

Zhihao chuckled, most probably aware of the boy's thoughts— he wasn't a talented honey pot agent for nothing, reading people's thoughts was second nature to him, much like PDA. Smiling to himself in mild amusement, he ushered the teen to hand over his phone before inputting his number.

A flicker of confusion went through Ryota's golden pupils as he watched the older man enter his number in his phone's contact list.

"I put it under 'Elder Martial Brother,'" Zhihao told. "Send me a message later, I will save it under 'Little Martial Brother,'" he added with a chuckle.

Ryota mutely nodded. Seeing the teen agree Zhihao beamed. "Great, I will be waiting."

With these words, he rolled the window up and the limousine sped away, leaving a slightly bemused Mikaël to stare at them.

Absentmindedly walking down Namimori's streets to his class, Ryota stared at the newly added contact on his phone. He had missed a bit less than a week of school, coming back on the last day of the week, and his experience with the Bratva seemed like a faraway dream.

He found himself troubled, unable to cope with everything to the point of being a bit disconnected from reality. For instance, he hadn't minded the Kokuyo gang's absence, not even questioning it, he remembered slumping on his bed before falling into a deep sleep.

The tiredness of his week and the stress caught up to him in one go, hitting him like a truck and forcing his body to shut down.

He hadn't sent Junichiro or anyone for all it mattered a text since departing with his manager, and he instinctively knew his raven-haired friend would get back at him for it. How? He wasn't sure yet, but he had to find a way to sooth the teen.

After all, though a hype Junichiro sometimes was a pain, a sulking one was the worst. When Jun sulked there was no turning back and Ryota knew to whine and get on his nerves would be on the top of the boy's list— how did he know?

Well, not to boast, but in his past life, he was a bit similar. Only a bit, he wasn't as annoying!

Back on track, as Ryota neared the school ground, he heard some chatter from one side of the road to the other, all about some transfer students. He supposed they came in at the beginning of the week when he was in Moscow. 

Absentmindedly, he typed a text for his glasses-wearing friend to read. As he did, his thoughts drifted to his blond manager. Damn, Claude was really something, giving him a photoshoot in Tokyo the weekend he came back. He didn't know if his manager was that good or a serious stalker— when did he tell him he was back? Ah right, the Bratva.

Casually sliding his phone back in his pocket, he caught a few names and intriguing information about the Simon students but didn't bother comment on them. A ghost of a frown adorned his features as he noticed how close those students were to the Vongola Gang. It was a bit suspicious, so to say.

He mechanically rubbed his earlobe. Suspicious, since he got himself involved in the underworld he truly came to hate this word. Having it come to mind only meant troubles, he wasn't a fan of them— not those he encountered in the underworld at least. When it was troubles for getting on Nijimura's nerves it was another story— let's not tell him his thoughts on that.

He breathed, nearing the school ground and more precisely the baseball field. It was a bit early for him to come, his first period was self-study and he planned on skipping it, wanting to move his body and take his mind off of the Bratva for a bit.

Getting closer, he soon caught the face of a familiar teen. A smile settled on his face as the boy's voice entered his ears.

"Yo, Takeshi," he greeted, patting his underclassman's shoulder in friendly greeting. His golden eyes met Takeshi's brown orbs and he beamed before flickering them to the imposing boy next to them, he raised a contemplative eyebrow. He didn't remember meeting the blond before, perhaps was he one of the transfer students, such a hairstyle was easy to remember.

Yamamoto returned the older's greeting with as much if not more enthusiasm before noticing the green's gaze on his friend. "Right, Mika-senpai you didn't meet Mizuno yet right?" he rhetorically asked. "Mika-senpai, Mizuno Kaoru. Mizuno, Lamarre Mikaël," he introduced.

Both blond and green stared at one another in silence, analyzing who the other was behind perfect masks of either shyness or hypeness. At last, they shook hands.

"Pleasure, Kaoru, you can call me Mikaël or Mika," Ryota introduced, easily wearing a genuine-looking fake grin. "I hope you don't mind me calling you by your first name? It's a habit of us westerners," he added with a laugh.

Mizuno nodded, murmuring a low 'hello,' as he returned the green's handshake. His red eyes trailed on Mikaël's figure for a few seconds, taking in his features before settling on the indigo earing on his ear. He minutely sharpened his features before letting go of the French teen's hand.

"Right, Mika-senpai, do you want to join us? We were training," Takeshi provided, diverting both teens' attention from one another and focusing on the raven head.

Mikaël hummed, agreeing with a smile he didn't spare the blond who stared at him a second too long a second glance. "I'll go and take out another glove, you can begin without me," he instructed, beaming and leaving his schoolbag behind as he made his way to the facility.

Getting further away from them and any prying eyes, Mikaël's grin faded. Gently he grabbed his right hand, massaging it. The blond had quite a grip. He frowned, opening the sports facility. And the way he reacted at his earing— he rummaged through the baseball appliance, in search for a glove.

A hand reached for his earlobe, feeling the cool gem underneath his fingertips. Even for someone who knew of бриз or feared them, it was too extreme.

How suspicious.

Bzz, bzz—

From: Juncchi

To: Mi

If you don't get your ass in class in two, I swear to God I'll beat you.

Asshole 凸ಠ益ಠ)凸

Ps: You better pay for this weekend

Merry (late) Christmas and best wishes for the (early) New Year!

Thanks for reading, until next time^^