Aaaand last chapter, kids... Somehow i feel i failed for this story. I mean, at first, i wanted to write something cute and funny... And it ends up so dark and gloomy. Aaaaa. No, no, don't worry, there's nothing particularly ugly in this last chapter.

And i also wanted to thank you all. (_ _) If you're reading Brothers only now or since the first chapter, i'm just sooo grateful anyone paid attention to my poor mind's works. I know it's very, veeeery far from what you can read in most of novels. My english isn't perfect and my style often changes from a chapter to another. So i'm thankful you put up with me until now... (^v^), and i'm also sorry if this chapter disappoints you by the end. Really... Really. *sweat drops*

But not only for this story, for the other ones too. In particular the XS ones. Of Capes and swords and Brothers are the stories i wanted to finish by the end of this month, since next month (July) i'll start a new XS fanfic, and this will be the last one i'll be writing this year... I mean, the last fanfic i'll be writing at all. I plan on writing one shots from various ships in september, but nothing mutli chaptered...

Once more, thank you very much, everyone!

A Mafia Capo shot to death. Erardo Tarantola shot down outside his apartment. Mystery gunman kills three Mafiosi… Recently, newspapers had only those as headlines. For two weeks nonstop, people didn't have on their lips anything but the murder case of such big one in such famiglia, the mysterious disappearing of a renowned name in the underground, or the nervous stir almost too obvious within the Mafia families of the town. Their nervousness was understandable, though. It seemed that the famous Mafiosi murderer didn't choose his victims. Whether they had the slightest connection with Mafia was enough to put them on the list. The gunman's list, it goes without saying.

Yes, it was war. A pure one-sided, urban war. The slaughters had no apparent scheme. Most of time, the victims seemed they had been murdered by sheer luck – if that can even be called luck. They were at their home, alone or with their lovers or friends or families, or they were just walking in the street or getting down from their cars… Then it was the bloodshed. The weird fact was that nobody seemed to be able to stop him. The families organized themselves, they cut their ties with the outside world and were never wandering alone or unarmed in the town. But it was totally ineffective.

"By the end of the month, almost twenty-three murders and sixteen disappearances are numbered in the city." A reporter was relating on the huge TV screen of the coffee shop where Squalo and Bel were having their breakfast. "But those numbers aren't exact and the police is still investigating for further leads…"

Someone shut the TV off. "Brrr. How can you listen to something as gloomy as that so early in the morning?" An old waitress said. "With all that crap going around, I won't be able to walk freely in the streets anymore."

"Aa, well," An old man who was sitting before the coffee counter, next to the pair, retorted. "They say the victims were all criminals, Mafia and all that crap. Who knows, maybe it's some kind of vigilante or something like that."

"A vigilante! Ah, Dio mio, Fredo, what're you talking about?" The waitress rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the sky in a theatrical way and sighed. "It's just a settling of scores between criminals who don't care about collateral damages. That's all!"

The old woman violently put down a mug of steaming coffee in front of Fredo and went in the back of the shop. Bel didn't take his eyes from the old lady until she was totally out of sight.

"Criminals, she said." He spoke. "Are you okay with that?"

"Why should I care?" Squalo shrugged then plunged a butter croissant in hot chocolate with his valid hand. "She isn't wrong. We're just a bunch a shitty cockfuckers not valuable enough to have our names written on a grave. No matter what those garbage may say, this is a truth that will never change." The silverette brought the croissant to his mouth, but it seemed the chocolate had been too hot, since he suddenly shouted and threw his mug away. But when the old waitress heard it break on the ground, she started to scream and swear and threaten the two boys with knives from the kitchen.

Squalo ran away (after leaving on the counter a generous tip), Bel ran after him. They only paused once far enough from the coffee shop and the murderous old lady. A glance at his surroundings told the blond boy they were in a park for children, with the seesaws, the sandboxes, the merry-go-rounds… everything Bel always hated when he was younger. He looked at Squalo. The silver head was sprawling on a bench, breathing heavily. His hair, which he hadn't cut for months, was long and hiding half of his sweaty face. He sat next to him. Like that, the boy thought, they looked like two siblings sitting together in a park, as if it was perfectly natural. Nothing abnormal but the dark grey coat Squalo was wearing, which didn't match with his age and the surrounding childlike and happy atmosphere.

"So what are we doing now?" He asked casually.

"Huuh?" The swordsman frowned. "What do you mean by 'we'? I already made my point earlier, didn't I? You are going to do nothing. Just go back to your little brother and I'm going to put an end to all of this shit."

"Not faaair." Bel complained. "Why are you always the only one who gets to have some fun? Plus I don't remember anymore where I let the frog. I think he's with Cavallone, or still in the hospital…"

Suddenly Squalo got up, facing the boy.

"Voi, this isn't fun, you damn kid!" He roared angrily. "This is anything but fun, unless the perspective of having your little head riddled with holes is amusing you. You don't have the slightest idea of what's waiting for me on this hellish journey. I'm not even sure I'll make it till tonight, and you keep on joking about it? This isn't a playground for you, brat. This is fucking war!"

Everyone around was silent and staring curiously at them. Finally noticing their look on him, the silverette sat down and hid his mutilated hand. "Anyway you're not staying with me." He added. "I'll send you back to Dino. After that, you can do anything of your life, as long as you don't stay in my legs. What you decide to do, where you decide to go, it has nothing to do with me. Got it?"

The boy received that ultimatum like a slap on his face. But maybe, inspired by some divine psalm, he turned the other cheek.

"You stupid, stuuupid Squalo." He grinned while swinging his legs back and forth. "Did you really think I'll listen to what you say? I'll do what I want because I'm a prince, and if my highness wants to follow you, then my highness shall follow you. You should feel honored by it."

"You little-"

"Now, let's be pragmatic." Bel cut. "Knowing your dear, dear Boss' ("Who's my dear Boss?" Squalo blushed) hotheaded personality and most of all the damage the other famiglia are receiving, it's obvious that the second party will try to make the first step to calm the first one and reduce the damages."

"Yeah, but like hell is Boss going to listen to their pleading." Squalo folded his arms and crossed his legs. "They can't stop him. They know it and Xanxus knows they know it. The die is cast."

"So? Everything is good, so why are you here for?"

The silver haired boy grimaced. "That stupid Boss… Is only up to put everything upside down. If I let him do as he likes, there will be nothing left anymore in this damn town but a shitty mess. Forget the lowlife scumbags he's chasing right now, we'll have Hell itself on our back."

"Heeee…" Bel's grin stretched hellishly. He stood up and firmly pulled the silverette's left arm so that the latter could plainly see his cut hand. As he talked his voice was guttural and menacing, his expression even more cynical than usual. "Shishishishi. This is only what you're after? Smoothing things over? Are you sure all you want isn't just forgiveness from your dear Boss? Ah! This is the best. I imagine the long-awaited reunion. Do you imagine Xanxus opening his arms wide for you? His coarse voice murmuring words of absolution in your ears, telling you that everything is alright, everything is pardoned, forgotten?" He lowered his head so that his lips were just inches form the silverete's ears. "Squalo… I don't loathe you, I don't hate you. Please go back by my side and I'll treasure you the way you've always wanted me to, as without you my days are meaningless, my sky is void of stars and each one of my heartbeats hurts me more than a million of knives stabbing my heart… Hmph!"

"You just won't shut up, will you? Aaaa?" Squalo glowered evilly at the blond while his right hand was clamping hard against the younger boy's mouth and nose.

"It's… mmf… jjuft a bvvvoke!" Bel waved his arms with panic. "Cannt…Fff… breathh!"

"Che."

He let go. Bel sprawled on the ground and breathed heavily. At the corner of his eye, he could see Squalo who was on the point of leaving the park. As quickly as he could, he tagged after him.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not telling you!"

"Come on! It was only a joke!"

"I said I'm not telling you!"

"Squaaaalo…"

"Voooi. What?!"

"Buy me some cream pancake."

"Get lost!"

…

When they arrived at Terzo D'Inzeo's miserable flat, lost in the deepest part of the most indigent town district, he had already been murdered. Blood was covering half of the walls and sheets and curtains. The entire apartment – which only consisted in two rooms: a bedroom and a small bathroom – was a mess. Bel whistled at what he saw.

"When Boss does something, he does it throughout, huh?"

"Don't stay outside and come in." Squalo ordered. "We're not even supposed to be here."

Bel complied, stepped in and closed the door behind him. The room was filled with a sickening smell the boy assumed was the rotten cadaver's. He crossed the place, being careful of not touching anything as he walked, and mostly avoiding the huge mark of dry blood on the carpet.

"You don't have to be that anxious." Squalo said from the bathroom. "Police don't have your fingerprints, so go and look for some valuable documents in that cupboard, near the bed."

The blond did as he was told. Fortunately, the Terzo guy was some kind of exceedingly meticulous man. Everything in the cupboard was meticulously filed, labeled and ranked chronologically. Now, the problem wasn't where to look at, but from where to start.

"Squaaalo. What do I have to do with that? And what do you want me to look for…" He complained then closed the cupboard. He was about to come in the bathroom when the swordsman unexpectedly blocked his way.

The silverette just got out of the bathroom and was furrowing. "Don't come in." He was wiping his hands covered with blood. "It's pretty ugly in there. This guy had had absolutely no chance."

Bel followed the swordsman with his eyes as the latter walked to the door.

"He was sleeping when a noise made him wake up, probably a knock; hence the stripped bed." Squalo said. "The guy was pretty confident, or stupid. Or both. Even if being a mole, he didn't really mind who was making such noise. There's no sign of infraction, which means he willingly opened the door…" Squalo was now facing the door. "That's where he got shot. Bang! Probably in the shoulder. Look at the blood stains on the carpet and the cupboard. Terzo hit the cupboard with his back (He took one step back, mimicking Terzo being shot) before falling on the ground. He then crept slowly until he reached the bed. He remained there few minutes, enough to make him lose all that blood…" Squalo closed his eyes and breathed. "He was bargaining. He had recognized Xanxus and was trying to find a way out. But Xanxus listened to what he said, though he didn't seem to appreciate it. Two other shots. Bang. Bang. Right leg and belly. One bullet went through and came out again. Here. (Squalo showed a bullet inlaid in the ground) Well, Terzo must have been crying quite loud, but no one came to save him. So he dragged himself to the bathroom. Xanxus had what he had come for; he didn't need that trash anymore. Then…" Squalo was standing in front of the open bathroom. He stretched his right arm, his fingers imitating a gun. "Bang. The last one in the head. There's no trace of burning around the hole, that only means Xanxus didn't shoot him at close range."

Bel's face twisted. "So the body is still there, in the bathroom?"

"It's been there for days. And no one even mind to look what was all the shooting about."

"Then? What are we doing now?"

"Terzo told Xanxus who he had been working for, so Boss didn't need to look for any other information here (the silverette swiftly opened the cupboard wide and trailed a finger on the folders). Until this murder, the Boss had hit almost randomly. Now he knows what his target's name is."

"What? Wasn't D'Inzeo part of the Senoner?"

"Officially, yes. But there's a high chance they weren't the only ones he had been working for." The swordsman picked a file dated from two weeks earlier. "A mole, a double agent… This wouldn't be impossible. Take a look at this."

He threw the folder to Bel. No soon had the stack of papers reached his hand than the boy had already finished reading it. "And written evidences?" Bel raised an eyebrow. "That's new."

"Voi. Keep that with you. We're leaving now."

And so they did. They didn't call for the mortuary, they didn't call for the neighbors. They just let the body to rot there until the smell was too unbearable and someone finally took upon them to get rid of the body. This is the world Squalo was living in, and this is the world he didn't want Bel to step in. The boy could remember the swordsman's face drenched in tears, back in the hospital. Squalo is the kind of person who would always look strong before others, yet he knew, those had been tears of remorse and rage. A rage against himself, because he was just way too responsible to turn against anyone else but him.

With his hand in that state, he wouldn't be able to practice the sword anymore, or at least not before he got used fencing with his right hand. But that didn't matter; oh, Bel was sure that was a negligible detail for him. Superbi Squalo was on hunt and, no matter how long it would take him, he'd be sure to pay his debt to the bastards who had made an attempt on the raven's life. For the swordsman, such an infamità could never remain ignored.

Such a strong bound to the raven… Can that be called love? Bel wasn't sure. It was more akin to respect – a profound respect which had been given birth by too much admiration, as though Xanxus was some kind of god that unexpectedly appeared in Squalo's life. More than love, it was much more like fanaticism, monomania, or passion… but in no way the swordsman's feeling could be associated to fear. Squalo, by no means, did fear Xanxus. He adored him. Those were totally different things, and that was why what the silverette felt toward his boss couldn't be associated to any kind of religion. However, it was true Squalo didn't fear the raven, still what was also true was that he feared more than anything being parted from his Boss.

Bel didn't remind Squalo his previous rebuff. Whether the swordsman had totally forgotten it, whether he allowed Bel to follow him, that didn't make any difference.

"Why are you working for the Cavallone?" Squalo asked Bel, out of the blue, as they were heading to the house of Terzo's "benefactor". At least they were sure the man still was alive since, unlike all the bunch of scumbags killed within the previous week, that one was well-known amongst the public, and so far nothing unusual had been said about him.

"I'm not working for them." Bel replied. "Or, more precisely, 'working' is not the suitable word for what I'm doing. At best, I'm helping them from time to time."

Squalo stared at him out of the corner of his eyes, but didn't ask more. As kind as the new Cavallone boss could be, traditions aren't things one can easily break overnight, mostly for Sicilian people, and mostly and it was coming to blood.

"Merely an associate. I don't even have half the blood of an Italian." Bel added, as if to ascertain Squalo's thoughts.

They had reached the upper class area. Contrary to the hovel where they left Terzo's body, the place was by far more pleasant for the eye and the nose. It was a tranquil residential neighborhood – huge houses, gardens with no fence, luxurious cars exposed outside garages… this clearly was a place where everyone trusted everyone. A principle the swordsman had difficulty to process in his shark-like brain.

"The target's house is two streets further." Squalo stated. Kids ran past them on the sidewalk. It was past 3 p.m. so no wonder the place would be plenty of children hurrying home to watch their favorite anime program whilst eating their favorite pies. Thanks to their age, Bel and Squalo went practically unnoticed. They just meddled with the other kids and teenagers, trying to look as natural and detached as possible.

"What are we going to do with him after we get him?"

"That man is a famous politician. Many strong relations with foreign mafias and multinationals, a face often shown on TV for charity and donations, a happy family with happy children and the whole lot…. Though it'll be of no help for him if Xanxus finds him before us."

"Before us, nee…" Bel grinned. "I didn't know you too could be greedy. Well, that makes of you a shark after all. Yet I kind of imagine what will down on the Boss if he touches even a hair of this man's head."

"Fottuto."

"But why the Boss? What would a billionaire like him gain by killing him?"

"You're a genius, try to use your brain for once. The day of the explosion, Xanxus was going to steal most of his contracts and principals dealings. Like hell could that greedy pig overlook something like that. It's my fault for not predicting his moves."

"So, basically, what you're going to do is to get rid of the old man… or make a deal with him before the Boss shoots him dead? More logical. That's kind of ambitious from you." But not totally impossible, Bel pondered pensively.

It seemed he hadn't heard what the blond boy just told to him. Squalo remained still on the sidewalk, his eyes wide open, when suddenly…

"Run!" He shouted and pulled the younger boy's hand. Belphegor didn't even have time to ask what was going on. They turned back and ran the opposite direction, not paying attention to the curious glance from the other people walking in the street.

Bel looked back. A black car with tinted windows was pursuing them closely. Their only chance was that the intertwined streets were fairly crowded, to the point of forming a real labyrinth. They took small alleyways, crossed through gardens and parks. They ran, ran for hours, it seemed to the blond boy. Around them, the environment was changing and the residential neighborhood was gradually replaced by the noise and dirt of the city center. Bel could barely follow Squalo's pace. It was obvious the latter was being slowed down by the younger boy, yet, he didn't let go of him.

They finally paused and hid near the entrance of a subway, right behind a huge garbage truck, sitting right on the dirty ground. Squalo was already drawing a gun from under his coat.

"Underlings?" Bel panted.

Squalo peeped behind the truck. "Looks like. Bel." The latter started. Squalo had called his name so seriously; he wasn't used to hear the swordsman talking to him that way. "Now, you're going to listen to what I say. Voi, don't talk back!" He fiercely yelled as the boy opened his mouth to retort. "The enemy spotted us faster than I thought. They're prepared to fight and not us. You can't stay with me in those conditions. Those guys have no intention to take prisoners."

With the point of his gun, the silverette showed a small hole in Bel's pullover. The hitmen just missed his back.

"So what are you…"

"Don't ask me." Squalo said furiously. "For you, it's better this way."

The silver haired boy got up and was about to leave, but instead, he remained glued on the spot, hesitant and frowning deeply. He looked alternatively at the main street where their trackers were probably looking for them on foot by then, and then at the blond boy who was still crouched on the ground. Finally, as though he just decided something that was utterly against nature for him, he turned back to Bel and, kneeling on one knee, he lowered himself at the level of the younger boy, right before him. He kissed softly the blond mane. From where he was, Bel could see the shark-like boy's face flush slightly at the action. But it only lasted two seconds.

Without a word, Squalo got back on his feet and left the subway.

Bel did what he was told. He stayed there, behind the garbage truck, as silent and motionless as a statue. The night was slowly falling down on the town, the air was getting cold, but he stayed there, crouching, silent, in that smelly subway.

How long had gone by since Squalo left? He didn't know. There was no way to keep track of time where he was. Even the common sound of the metro users was growing monotonous. A dog came near him, growled and barked after him, but Bel didn't move. And he didn't have to since the dog got kicked hard by a man in a black suit who, right after that, stuck the barrel of a gun right on the boy's temple.

"Kiddo," The man said menacingly. "If you want to live long enough to see tomorrow's sunrise, you'd better follow me."

That presumptuous guy in the club had only been one of the many trashes Xanxus had to cross off his list. Contrary to Squalo, his mind wasn't full of noble purposes such as revenge and honor. At best, his hunt was a mere play. Trashes dared touch his belongings, trashes dared think themselves good enough to kill him… And they failed. Those trashes should prepare themselves to pay the consequences of their botch.

Now, the last name. Eterie Papalia. That scum was even lousier than the others. Who gave a damn about his billions? Who did he think he was, using shitty subordinates to bomb his place? The other trash almost cried his name as the raven shot him in the head. He had been so pitiful it nearly made Xanxus throw up. Even the mere idea of having to dirty his hands with such a rat was unbearable for him. Maybe if that shark trash had been there…

"Mmh? What's wrong, Xanxus darling?" A woman who was keeping the raven company asked. They had been staying in that luxurious and vulgar hotel room for hours now, Xanxus lying still on the bed, a Cohiba Behike between his lips and a bottle of Macallan on his nightstand, already half drunk.

Xanxus glared at the prostitute. She was beautiful, surely one of the most beautiful women money could buy. Her body – waist, face, breast and legs – everything was perfect; yet she annoyed the tanned man. He beat her, insulted her, and she kept on coming back. Just like the hyena that had smelled the scent of rotting carcass, she had smelled the dazzling scent of money on Xanxus. She would caress him, kiss him, make love to him as if there was no tomorrow; yet the raven grew tired of her.

The woman was placing butterfly kisses on the raven's torso. She was unhurriedly tracing his throat, his jawline, to finally kiss him on his lips. But, before she could break the embrace, her eyes opened wide, her face twisted in a ugly grimace. She fell from the bed and coughed painfully as smoke from Xanxus' cigar came out from her mouth. The woman then burst into tears, cursed the raven and ran out of the suite. This time, Xanxus thought, she wouldn't come back anymore.

He got up and went to take a bath. When he got out from the bathroom, almost one hour later, he still wasn't alone in the suite. Facing the huge glass wall was standing a boy, maybe eleven or twelve, the raven wasn't sure since his face was half hidden by a thick blond mane. How did a kid get into this room? That was a total mystery to him; still he remained calm. Showing panic in front of a brat was out of question for the Mafia boss.

"I was waiting for you, Boss." The kid said. The voice was familiar to Xanxus. Had he already met that boy somewhere before that day?

"You brat, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Bel grinned at Xanxus. "Shishishi. I only came here to bring you a present from Papalia." Bel showed a suitcase lying on the floor.

Seeing the suitcase, Xanxus instinctively brought his hand to his gun – or more precisely where his gun should have been, hanging at his belt, if he had been wearing his usual clothes and not only a towel around his waist.

"Damn piece of shit, you want to die that much, huh?"

"Put it out of your head." Bel shrugged. "He said he wants peace. 'I don't like bloodshed, I'm a businessman and blood costs too much money.' He said. In this suitcase, you'll find an apercu of the contract he wants to make with you-"

"I'm not gonna read that shit. Just tell me what it is about."

"Aa Boss," Bel raised his hands and shook his head hypocritically. "Are you implying I've read important documents from my patrons without their authorization, and this albeit I don't even have the code to open the suitcase, only small hints to guess it? … Shishi. Well, that's more or less what I've done, though." Bel span on himself before opening his arms wide. "A total immunity outside Papalia's territory. Money, power and everything you've always wished for… as long as you stay out of the country and abide to Papalia's rules and swear him a complete faith and loyalty for the next years until the old geezer's death."

Xanxus burst in laughs. Bel imitated him, but he hushed when the raven violently threw an empty bottle at his head, a bottle which he effortlessly dodged, fortunately for him, unfortunately for the mafia Boss.

"Molto bene, feccia." He smirked devilishly. "That old fart really is tired of living. That's good. Should I grant that bastard's wish… And you shitty shrimp are going to tell me where that asshole is."

"That's bad~ Boss. I'd rather lead you to Papalia's place." Bel grinned. "You know, I still don't want to die here and now, or end up, you see, like some rat in a bathroom."

"I'll burst your sorry head, trash."

"I don't think so." Bel sneered and pulled something from his pockets. Bullets. They fell one by one on the carpet, a dull sound following each impact. "Now let's go, shall we?"

Xanxus grunted. He just got out of the bath and people were already irritating him? That was beyond common sense. The only fact he was arguing with a middle school boy – and also that said middle school boy still was alive so far – was beyond common sense.

"You're kidding me…" Xanxus grumbled and yet drew new clothes from the dressing room. He got dressed and followed the blond boy outside the suite, then outside the hotel. Luckily enough for the raven, Papalia's hotel was only few streets further. On board Xanxus' sport car, it only took twenty minutes to get there.

Papalia had booked a suite in the center town. Well, technically, he didn't have to book the room since it was his own hotel. Not only a hotel: casino, Turkish bathes, a tavern with the best Grand cru of the world and a restaurants proposing dishes from all the countries in the world… Next to it, the Waldorf Astoria wasn't much to look at.

As they saw the raven arriving, doormen scurried around him to show him the way, leading him in a huge and shimmering hallway where a butler was already waiting for him.

"This way, Sir." He said.

A magnificent corridor, then an elevator. Papalia's suite was on the last floor – the imperial suite, the flashy, lavish and immoderate imperial suite. No matter how you look at it, it looked more like an entire house (of course, not a mere house. More like a jet set's house) than a simple hotel room. The old man was sitting comfily in a gigantic leather couch with only a dressing gown to hide his fatness. Bodyguards and whores were surrounding him in a very easy-going way.

"Aaa!" Papalia yelled and got up as he saw Xanxus coming. "Here's my boy! Xanxus! Vieni qui, figlio!"

The old man walked toward Xanxus, his arms wide open as if he was about to hug him, but he stopped when he saw the raven aiming at him. This movement had immediately been followed by a real concert of triggers. All within two seconds, the tanned man had a dozen of guns aiming deadly at him. In spite of that fact, Xanxus didn't move, nor did he pull back. The tension in the room was palpable. The whores silently went out, one after the other, aware of the carnage dooming the occupants of the imperial suite.

"Stronzo! Frocio!" Papalia shouted at his bodyguards. "Put your goddamn guns down! What will you do if you hurt him? Huh? Porco miseria! Now, Xanxus boy, come and sit here, there, in front of me. Very good. Nico, hurry up and bring some drink for our guest."

Finally, Xanxus settled down in a couch, right before Papalia's. Soon after, aperitifs were served and women came back hovering around them.

"So," The old man resumed as he had regained his throne, his face all sweet and debonair. "What do you think about my proposition? Tempting, isn't it? No! No, don't say a thing yet. You don't have the slightest idea of what I'm proposing you, boy. Over! No more risks, no more worries about your future, as I'm taking it in charge. I take everything in charge, Xanxus! Your enemies are my enemies and your friends are my friends. It's as simple as that. If someone harms you, that asshole harms me. Everything mine is yours, and everything yours… is yours! Ha! Ha! Ha! Don't worry, boy. I'm not here to pluck you. Hee? You don't look convinced. Is the counterpart bothering you? Boy, boy. What I ask from you, it's… it's… almost nothing! Of course, you can come and go where you want to, I won't force you to stay where you don't want to stay, it's all up to you…"

A hissed laugh resounded in the room. Everyone except from Xanxus looked out for the impertinent who had the nerve interrupt their leader, only to find a twelve year old boy crouching behind Papalia's couch, laughing like a madman.

"Old man." Bel shishi-ed. "Isn't that the complete opposite of what you've said sooner? 'Xanxus is a hot blooded guy.' You said. 'He has brains but mostly too much wrath in him, and in our world, people like him never last very long.'"

The old man scowled at him, his face covered with sweat. "Tsk. So you're still alive. Xanxus boy, forget what that brat said. Or rather, no, no, don't forget it. That's true. That's what I said, indeed, but it's all for your sake… Aaah, I tell you, Xanxus boy. If I had a son, I would have like him to be exactly like you: strong, manly, and merciless. But unfortunately, my poor wife died before she could give me an heir…"

Suddenly, Papalia's breath quickened agonizingly and his armpits were drenched with perspiration. Dyspnoea at rest, that was. Immediately one of the bodyguards brought an artificial-respiration machine and presented an oxygen mask to the old man. The latter breathed in avidly. Apparently, the old geezer's days were counted.

After few deep gulps of air, Papalia put the mask off and whispered something to one of his bodyguards. The man left the suite and only went back a quarter of an hour later with another woman. Contrary to the other whores, she was way younger, but her features were more exquisite and delicate. The girl was tall and slender. She had long brown hair and was wearing a red dress that seemed to float around her lean body.

The escort practically threw the girl in Papalia's arms. The old man didn't lose time to grope her ass and kiss her neck. The girl didn't say anything, she didn't even tried to struggle. Her eyes were lost somewhere only she knew, as though she wasn't even aware of being in that room with the old pig molesting her.

"Fuu… That felt good." Papalia finally spoke when he was over with the young girl. "I really needed this. You see, Xanxus, lately, I'm not feeling well; I'm getting old, probably. And only young flesh like hers can make me feel alive again… I envy your youth, boy. You still have life before you… Assuming you agree with my offer."

He was a real chatterbox. Not that uncommon, though, from a politician, and Italian on top of that. Xanxus was only half listening to the old man. In actual fact, he didn't care about the deal, about the blabbering old man and all that shit. Only one thing mattered for him, that was having Papalia dead by the end of the day. The ultimatum was already too high-minded; that old pig should have been killed right at the raven's arrival. He only stayed because the booze was tasteful; at least, that he would admit. But in the end, Papalia realized the raven wasn't paying him attention anymore. Old men like him don't get mad because of things like that. He just sighed and thought about something that would draw the tanned man's interest. And he somehow grasped what that particular thing was.

"Xanxus, Xanxus…" He said. "You're a great boss, I give you that. You have no fear, you're tamed by none but your desires, and I respect you for that. But you still have a long way to go. You see, you easily lose temper. You're lacking the cool needed to deal contracts and analyze situations thoroughly. The other kid (what was his name already… Squalo, that's it?) is different."

Xanxus eyed at him. Was that old fart really talking about the shark trash? Papalia smirked as he noticed Xanxus' interest going back to him. "You know I'm right. That kid, he has a big mouth, but he's also quick at understand things. I met him, I know what I'm talking about. He's quite witty for his young age, and he has a long-term vision I would have never expected from such a kid. The meeting at your place, few days ago, he was the one who arranged it, wasn't he? Okay, it went bad (Papalia raised his hands apologetically), but you have to concede the kid did think big."

"You old scum, why are you talking about that trash now?" Xanxus inquired. Papalia's grin grew even wider. He had hit a nerve.

"Oh, I told you I'm an old man. From time to time, I'm rambling a little. But you'll know, too, when you get my age, that old people have tendency to drivel on the past and also to get infatuated with young beauties like this one…"

Papalia dove once more in the girl's neck. He tilted her head so that she was plainly facing the raven, as if the old man wanted him to be witness of her prettiness. And pretty, she was indeed. Intrigued, Xanxus stared at the delicate features framed by the thick, dark and curly hair. Her makeup was very faint; only gloss on her thin lips and mascara that lightly weighed down her long eyelashes behind which were hidden heavy greyish eyes, just like ash, the most beautiful of all.

The girl stared back at Xanxus, and as Papalia was about to rip her clothes from the skinny body, she murmured something before slightly letting her head and shoulders fall backwards.

The movement probably had been accidental, this God only knows, but at some point, Papalia brought the girl's left forearm up to lick on it. That's when the raven saw it: where most of people have normally a hand, the girl had absolutely nothing.

Squalo could hardly remember anything. He remembered…. He was running in the street. Men in dark clothes were running after him, never losing ground, always keeping up. The swordsman cut through shops and shops to outdistance his assailants, in vain. Trying to shoot at them in the thick crowd was useless, even if those bastards didn't mind shooting at him and even hurting passer-bys.

He got shot, too. Fortunately, not a deep wound, barely a scratch on his leg, yet it made his course more tedious. A moment, he was practically limping along, so the silverette had no other choice but stop and hide. Now he recalled, it had been a laundry. The owner looked at him questioningly as he hid himself behind a long file of clothes, all bleeding and panting. Yet, the owner said nothing. He just watched at the silver haired boy as if to say, 'so young, and already…'

Noticing the glare, Squalo got up and waved a hand (the valid one). "It's all right, pop." He tried to smile then got out.

After that, everything went black. The "scratch" was actually more serious than what he primarily believed.

When light finally broke from behind his eyelids, people were pulling him by both arms in a long and luminous corridor, his feet almost not touching the floor. Then he found himself in a bedroom, lying on a wide and comfortable bed. The place was warm, however, Squalo didn't feel at ease. He tried to move his limbs, without success. Even his eyes wouldn't open wider than a narrow slit…

No, it was definitely impossible to get up.

'Drugs…?' His mind processed.

Suddenly, a weight made the mattress shift. A corpulent, half-naked man was drawing close to him. Squalo would have kicked the man right in his balls if his body had listened to him. A nauseating feeling ran through his body when the man stroked his cheek.

'Get the fuck off. I'll kill you. Asshole. Don't touch me. Goddamn pervert.' Was what he wanted to scream, but he couldn't. The second after, he passed out again…

But next time he woke up, the vision before he eyes almost drove him mad.

There was Xanxus. His dear, important, more than anything adored Xanxus was watching at him as another man was trying to dishonor him.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to beg the raven's pardon. He wanted to kill himself right on the spot for such an infamy, but he couldn't. The blackout was near, and his body once more felt heavy, so heavy… Suddenly, a crash. Squalo couldn't explain himself what was that huge noise he heard since everything went black for the nth time. The silverette felt himself being lifted from the ground.

'That's weird.' He thought. 'It's like it's not the first time…'

With a superhuman effort, he opened his eyes. Someone was indeed carrying him in their arms. It was a man with a familiar scent – a scent of gunpowder, blood and expensive whisky. Oh, but that scent wasn't only on him. It seemed everything surrounding him was bathed in a foul smell of dirty blood and death. Something Squalo knew more than anything else.

"Xanxus…" Squalo whispered.

The man didn't reply. He just kept on walking and walking. Far away, the siren of police cars and ambulances. Sounds he was also familiar with. Maybe half an hour later, they stopped. Everything around them was silent and cold. It was already late in the night. The man released Squalo. Now they were fully facing each other. A sob died in the silverette's throat as he recognized Xanxus.

"Xanxus… Xanxus…" He whispered again. How miserable did he look now, he pondered. He, Superbi Squalo, weeping like a newly born child in front of that unforgiving man. He had failed him. He was ready to accept his punishment. …But what he didn't expect was the burning lips that crushed against his.

Xanxus kissed him fiercely, his teeth biting at the silver haired boy's lips, his tongue penetrating passionately in his mouth and stroking its insides. Squalo let him do whatever he pleased. After all, if it was Xanxus, it was okay. If it was Xanxus, everything, the best and the worst, was always okay. The brown wig was long gone. Now, the raven had a hand softly pulling at the silver mane while the other was tracing the contours of the swordsman's waist. The latter whimpered. And one day earlier, he would have never imagined such a thing could happen to him….

He loved Xanxus. He always did, but it was much like a fairytale love: looking at the prince from afar, not even daring to dream that one day… No, that idea would have only been painful.

They finally broke their embrace. Squalo's face was flushed red, Xanxus' still was composed. He was angry, but a form of anger Squalo had never saw before.

"You stupid trash. What did that old pig do to you?" He roared.

'Nothing.' Squalo wanted to reply… Or was it what he wanted to believe? For once, he welcomed eagerly the blackout, this time, sure that when he woke up, it wouldn't be in the arms of an old pervert.

…

"Heavy…" Squalo grunted. It was the second time that month he woke up in a hospital room, and it was starting to become tiresome. But this time, something was different. Different and heavy. "Vooi… What the fuck…?"

He looked down. Bel was sleeping right on top of him, his smaller body completely sprawling on his, and snoring, and drooling. "Bel! Get off, dammit!"

After many kicks and yelling, the blond boy woke up and rubbed his eyes. "Uwaa~ Hello, Squalo." He yawned. "You're awake?"

"How does it seem to you, you stupid brat?" He tried to roll on himself, but something else blocked his way. On his right, there was Fran pulling heavily on his arm. "Vooooi!"

"Shhhh." This is a hospital, you know?" Fran mumbled in his sleep. Squalo couldn't believe his ears, nor could he believe his eyes. Still he knew by experience it was no use to argue with those kids, so he just slumped back in the bed.

"Oh, you give up already." Bel spoke.

"Of course. Yelling will only give me a headache."

Belphegor grinned. This is how he liked the silverette: angry, annoyed and close to him. He slipped beneath the sheet and pulled at the silverette's free arm. The bed was warm and it was still early in the morning. For once since long, they could afford a lazy morning, yet he wasn't sure he could sleep with the images of the previous day in his mind.

Images of Squalo leaving that malodorous subway, of that huge hotel suite and that bedroom; his incomprehension when he saw the silver head lying there, in a bed, in woman's outfits… Papalia's threats against the boy, his fear for the swordsman's life… Then that other room with Xanxus in it, and the cold sensation of bullets in his hands… Then the gunshots resounding behind that couch. Then images of a massacre; all that blood, all that blood on the floor. And that man, Xanxus, who as carrying Squalo in his arms, away from him again… And then that damn kiss… No, he couldn't sleep in those conditions….

And that was when Fran switched the TV on.

"Voooi, Fran, you motherfucking brat! Shut that shit off or I swear I'll kill you!" The entire hospital could hear.

Dio mio: my God
Fottuto: fucked
Molto bene, feccia: very well, scum
Vieni qui, figlio!: come here, son!
Stronzo! Frocio! Porco miseria!: A lot of italian profanities *w*

Thank you so much for reading!