Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick—

The peaceful sound of the clock ticking away echoed in the otherwise silent living room, Zhihao who sat alone calmly sipped on some tea, his mind at ease, he gingerly closed his blue eyes.

He wondered what time it was, barely refraining himself from glancing at the atrocity adorning his wrist to look at the opposing wall. It was a bit after four in the afternoon, probably school would end soon.

He mused on how the previous day's battle ended, on the final score and how his Martial Brother and future underling had done. Although their performance wasn't praiseworthy, it wasn't that bad either. They should be able to cope without him today too.

The Chinese man hummed to himself, his eyes carefully tracing the edges of his metallic fan, well, it was another way to test Younger Martial Brother on Lyosha's orders.

One finger gliding over the fan, he carelessly finished his drink. Either way, he said he would keep an eye on his Master's relative today. He stretched his fingers, closing and opening his palms in turn before taking his used cup to the kitchen sink.

Although Zhihao was raised as a sheltered Young Master and was used to having people wait on him every day, it didn't mean that he couldn't take care of his things. Only, he liked to delegate such menial tasks.

Tucking his fan in his blue cheongsam's large sleeves, he didn't forget to grab a few acupuncture needles from his wooden case in his room, carefully he placed them in inconspicuous places of his attire.

Now, where would the boy be?

::

"Kufufu, tell me Ota-kun," the illusionist called out from his seat in on the couch. "Aren't you afraid that I'll stab you in the back?" he said, pointing his trident at the green's face to show his point.

Shura's blue eyes minutely narrowed, his hand crept closer to one of his blades, ready to retaliate and protect his future Boss if necessary.

"Fufu, aren't you?"

Ryota raised an eyebrow at the teen's words, he didn't bother to usher Shura to lower his weapon as he hummed in contemplation. "I wouldn't say that the possibility didn't cross my mind," the model admitted, his fingers gently pushing the weapon aimed his way aside. "Rather, I think that Francchi being on your team is enough insurance to keep me and Shura safe at the moment," he admitted a plastic grin on his face as he rubbed his brother's forehead in a display of affection.

The younger boy who comfortably laid in his brother's arms didn't react to the affectionate gesture, merely twiddling with his fingers and playing with Mist Flames he continued to construct and destroy weapons.

"Aww, such brotherly bond," the ex-convict drawled. "How touching, I didn't know that you had this side to you too Ota-kun. I thought you would say something along the line of 'I would take you down first,'" he laughed.

Ryota blinked as if to ponder over the other's words, before nodding. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan too-ssu!" he admitted with a grin.

Mukuro raised a somewhat dubious eyebrow, one of his signature chuckle slipping past his lips.

"Yeah, now that I think about it Six-cchi," Ryota exclaimed, twisting his body to fully face the illusionist— hearing his brother's groan of protest from his movement, he silently patted his head in an attempt to coax him. "We never had a proper fight, the both of us I mean."

"Are? My, now that you mention it, that's true," the teen admitted, a sly smirk painting his lips as his narrowed eyes glinted with some anticipation and excitement.

"Isn't it?" Ryota replied, glee tinting his voice. He felt unprecedented adrenaline at the idea of fighting the Kokuyo Gang leader, comparable to when he belonged to the Generation of Miracles and would play against them or Kagami, it was exhilarating.

Mikaël's golden eyes narrowed, dangerously glinting with dark red sparks he licked his upper lip in anticipation— expression almost feral as if to mirror Mukuro's current facial appearance.

"Tell me, Ota-kun," Mukuro began, voice low as he slowly stood from the sofa. "Why don't we spar, to see which one of us is the better Illusionist?"

Ryota's grin turned more animalistic, his hand absentmindedly pushing his brother of his lap, he extended his hand Shura's way for his weapon. "Mou, I thought you'd never ask!" he gushed, dusting the dust of his pants as he gently swirled the stick around his fingers.

"Right? Since receiving those memories, I've always wondered whether my genius or yours was superior? A copyist's original or and copyist's copy?"

Ryota chuckled, the extendable stick thinning into a rapier as it grew. "Not to brag, but I wasn't known as one of the 'Miracles' for nothing. My 'copies' are as good if not better than the original," he bragged.

"Kufufufufu, Let's see that for ourselves shall we, Ota-kun?"

"Ara, whenever you want, Six-cchi."

Shura longly stared at his Boss' figure, blood pumping as he eagerly awaited to see the teen's moves in the flesh. He didn't understand everything from their exchange, but supposed things happened while his Boss was with the Kokuyo Gang.

Fran cocked his head to the side, an apple-shaped hat covering his head after he left his brother's embrace he looked at the two males with some anticipation. Master or Brother? Who was the strongest?

Verde who sat not so far from them rubbed his sinuses in an attempt to soothe the oncoming headache. In the first place, he wasn't in at all to form an alliance with team Fon, and now they wanted to have a match? When they didn't know when the next round would occur?

How come he felt like the only responsible adult with a group of kids to look after when he was the baby? Also, why were the oldests the source od his headaches?

"No in-fighting!—"

Beep! Beep! Beep! Attention, one minute until battle commences.

Great, just great, the scientist lamented. "Hurry and get in the van, we don't have time for your childish games!"

::

Tunelessly humming to himself, his steps light and soundless as he bypassed every passerby, the Sun Guardian walked up to Namimori's only luxury hotel's lobby.

He took in the whole structure, admitting that it wasn't too shabby for a four stars hotel before making his way to the reception desk. His demeanor elegant, he kept his eyes gently narrowed, making them further glint under the artificial lighting they seemed particularly attractive.

His metallic fan was opened to show off a dragon-themed design on the spider threads that made up his fan's structure. With feather-like steps, he reached the receptionist, an amiable smile behind his fan he bent down to better look at her.

"Apologies, I am looking for my nephew," he confessed, the lie fluently slipping past his thin lips. "A boy, fifteen years of age, black hair and eye with a permanent scowl on his face," he described, his smile never receding as he observed with some appreciation the way the girl grew more embarrassed with the seconds under his piercing gaze.

He flashed her a smile, having his fan closed and tucked under his sleeve. "There should be a baby with him, with a red cheongsam made of the finest silk," he added, not noticing the unwarranted description he added to his Master's attire.

The girl gave a numb nod, her brain not registering her actions as she handed the raven head every information he asked for about his nephew's whereabouts. She didn't seem to notice as she gave away her hotel-master-key-card to the man.

Zhihao gave her another charming smile before peacefully walking away to the elevator, key card in hand. He hummed to himself.

Makariy's verity serum truly did miracles when used wisely, add his specifically requested drug to it and taking information from untrained parties became a piece of cake.

He smiled to himself, loving a well-done job. Not to brag, but out of the honey-pots in this world, he probably was one of the best— he would ask his Younger Martial Brother to request the list of honey-pot agents to Fuuta De La Stella later.

::

—2 seconds

1 second

Attention, the battle has commenced. The time limit is thirty minutes.

"Aah, so boring," Fran monotonously chanted from his seat in between his brother's legs as he leaned on the taller's chest for support. "When will we arrive?" he complained in French. "The game already began!"

Ryota merely patted the younger's head to coax him.

"Kufufu, now, now Fran, don't be too hasty," Mukuro lightly sermoned, swinging his pointer finger from side to side to nag the boy. "Patience is a virtue, the fight will only be more beautiful if you wait and victory all the more pleasing," he taught, voice tinged with slight anticipation.

Ah, he couldn't wait to take down that annoying marshmallow freak. And who knew? From what they knew Team Reborn had allied with Team Yuni, perhaps he could also get to the Vongola. Two birds with one stone, he was so excited.

Mukuro hummed to himself in silent anticipation, the curve of his lips never diminishing as they got closer to the Sky Arcobaleno's mansion. His fingers gently drummed against his cold trident, the pace steady as if to reflect his peace of mind in the situation. His heterochromatic eyes flickered to his Boss watch, crinkling at the sight.

25:40

He chuckled, were they already four minutes— almost five minutes into the battle? Ah, although he wouldn't vocalize it the way his disciple did, he too hoped that they would reach their destination soon.

He licked his upper lip, eyes gleaming as he carefreely leaned on the wall of the van. "Kufufu, Ota-kun," he sang, grabbing the green's attention. "Why don't we compete and see who breaks the most watch?"

Ryota raised an eyebrow, his grin never receding. "Oho? is that a challenge, Six-cchi?" he retorted, eyes glinting with mirth and anticipation.

"Kufufufu," Mukuro mutely narrowed his eyes in agreement.

::

"My, my, am I perhaps late on the fun?"

The smooth and silky voice of the hitman gently invaded the room, breaking the tense atmosphere between the Mammon and Fon representatives. Six pairs of eyes drifted to rest on the newcomer.

The Chinese honey-pot merely smiled his usual perfunctory smile, neither intimidated nor unguarded as he faced the group of dangerous assassins. His blue eyes were crinkled in a perfectly calculated angle to provoke both enticement and pitifulness, unbothered they swept over the crowd.

The man let out a low humming sound, briefly reviewing the hitmen's profiles before his grin stretched into a foxy smile. His blue eyes narrowed, flashing orange light and breaking their previous spell— not that the Varia got bewitched, they had long since put up their guard against the man.

Zhihao felt some appreciation for the Varia's skills, he didn't feel the need to brag, but even the best hitman and most important persons sometimes got entranced by his pair of almond-shaped eyes.

The light clacking of his fan as he opened it to cover his lower face and fan it echoed, he turned to face his Master who calmly rested on Hibari's shoulder.

"Master, I beg you to forgive this disciple for being late" he apologized with a practiced bow, a show of respect and deference for his Master and blatant provocation for the Varia.

Fon's lips curled up, he dismissively hummed. "It doesn't matter, you can rise."

Zhihao thanked his Master before following his instructions. He saw the way Hibari's hands twitched to take his tonfas out and fight against the group of assassins and couldn't help but have a favorable impression of the youth.

Though he wasn't battle crazy, Zhihao liked people with ambitions and abilities. From a glance, the teen obviously possessed both. His eyes momentarily rested on the boy's ring and he gave a silent sigh. A shame the Vongola spotted him before them.

Fon jumped down Hibari's shoulder to stand in front of his representatives. It precisely was one minute and a half into the second round of the Representative Battle and both sides were still gauging the other in religious silence.

"Don't jump in yet, Hibari," Fon instructed, eliciting a disproving grunt from the teen. Fon merely chuckled, even if the boy protested, he wouldn't fight just yet if he told him (hopefully). He bent so that his watch was just under his mouth before whispering, "Fon, I wish to relieve my curse."

In a puff, Fon was back to his adult form, the Arcobaleno gently stretched before adopting an offensive position, a sly smile on his face.

While Hibari's anger grew, Zhihao's heart thumped. Ah, the last time he saw this form, he was less than ten, how long had it been already? His heart fluttered in anticipation as he allowed himself to stand closer to the Arcobaleno.

"Allowing this disciple to support Master would be my greatest pleasure," he confided, feeling giddy as he gave the man a reverent almost religious bow— if Devdas was to see him, surely the man would scorn at him for showing more respect to the Arcobaleno than to their Lord.

Fan chuckled, he cracked his neck. "If that is your wish," he allowed before waving his hand to entice the other party to attack. "Now then, shall we?"

Thanks for reading, until next time^^

Question: Who would win in a fight Mikaël vs. Mukuro? Why?