It's over! This is the last chapter! The saga is complete!

Pick up the pieces (and rebuild)

After lunch –which he ate privately– Xanxus moved to his new office and collared a passing assassin to go fetch Chew Toy. The trash showed up decently quickly, eyes still glowing faintly orange.

"Xanxus."

"Stop leaning on your Dying Will, trash," he ordered shortly.

"Why?"

"It makes your focus narrow and you're careless of the details because you're not thinking things through; most things don't need to be done with your Dying Will. Most things are in fact done better if you're not rushing through them like it's the last thing you're ever going to do. Dying Will Mode is survival only; covers the basics but utter shit for more complex situations." He glared across the desk. "This is not life or death; deal with it normally like everybody else does."

The orange faded slowly from trash's eyes; it was swiftly replaced by doubt and self-recrimination.

"Sit," Xanxus said shortly, waving at the chair. Chew Toy sat, emotions and Flames fluttering wildly. "So what do you want?"

"What do I… want?" the trash repeated faintly.

Xanxus sighed loudly. "You don't want to be Decimo, or neo-Primo or whatever that pushy tutor of yours was dressing it up as; fine. You left. You're not going to be. So what do you want?" Brat wasn't wearing the modified Vongola Ring either; had he left it behind? It seemed the kind of dramatic statement he'd make to underline his defection. Also surprisingly practical: the Vongola could arrange a replacement Decimo without hunting down the trash first.

Well it seemed he'd managed to confuse Chew Toy out of a panic attack, for the time being at least. "I… don't know?"

"Think about it," Xanxus ordered flatly. "Not what you can do; what you want to do, money and education no object." He paused to get a more comprehensive feel for trash's Flames; really hadn't been taught shit since the Ring Battles, had he? "Can conceal you here for a bit but you've got to earn your keep and learn to hide your Flames."

"What kind of work?" Trash looked like he was expecting to be asked to commit murder; hah no. Trash wasn't even within an artillery strike's range of Quality.

"Housekeeping," Xanxus said ruthlessly. "Cleaning, laundry, feeding the cats; got a problem with that?" His scholastic performance might have been shit, but brat was perfectly capable of practical domestic work.

"N-no."

"Good. Tyrant is Head of Housekeeping; your contract will be with him, not with me. He's also a Sky, so he'll teach you what he thinks you need to know; you're underage still, so by signing on with him you'll have him in loco parentis. The contract makes it explicitly clear what's expected of you and what's expected of him in return; any questions, just ask." Trash looked dazed by the speed at which everything was happening; what, had he expected to be allowed to curl up in a corner and mope for weeks on end? Life wasn't like that for adults; most people couldn't afford it and Xanxus had no intention of allowing that sort of behaviour in another, much less himself. Even while depressed he had done things other than lounge around, like his university work and some Flame-Tech designs that he'd had a go at creating once he was feeling better.

"W-what about Chrome? Takeshi?" Thinking about his Guardians was a good sign though.

"Rain's already officially shark's apprentice, so he's free to do whatever shark lets him," Xanxus said dismissively. "Mist can sign on with Tyrant too if she likes; Rokudo likely to show up?"

"I th-think so? I mean, he won't stay at the Vongola. He might go back to Namimori though."

Yeah, no; Rokudo would come here eventually, because if he was here he couldn't get roped into the inevitable manhunt. Question was, would he bring his minions? "He's an adult so he'll have to sign on a regular contract with either me or Tyrant, or else get work elsewhere on the island. There's no room for freeloaders; want to eat, you work."

"Y-you're not going to ask why I left?"

Xanxus met Chew Toy's eyes steadily. "Already made that clear," he said levelly, "though if you want to ask about the old fart, I'm right here. Same where your father's concerned; I saw a lot of Iemitsu growing up." He paused. "Want to talk about shit they said or did, that's fine too. If you want to talk or ask about Reborn though, see the shark; he's got experience."

"Squalo knows Reborn?"

"Squalo spent most of two years in the same class as the horse while Reborn was tutoring him," Xanxus said dryly; "with the little shit trying to drag him into being horse's Guardian." Something Xanxus only knew about because his baby brother had mentioned it; shark very tellingly never talked about how he and horse knew each-other. "Shark knows all about the shenanigans."

Chew Toy looked both intimidated and vaguely reassured. "Erm, can I think? About the Housekeeping thing?"

"Got until Saturday morning, trash." The Vongola probably would have noticed their Heir was missing by then, although they'd probably start by looking for him closer to home. Kalk and Springer also being missing –or also being illusions depending on what Rokudo was doing– meant that people would probably think they were off doing something together, possibly taking a few days off or visiting one of the Dons discreetly. Or even off having sex together somewhere private; teenagers after all. Realising he was actually missing would take longer.

"Th-thank you."

"Now go away."

Trash left; Xanxus leaned back in his chair and worked the tension out of his shoulders; that hadn't gone so badly.

It probably would have gone worse if Tyrant hadn't agreed beforehand to hide Chew Toy under his wing if the trash agreed to it, but Tyrant had and so Xanxus didn't have to think about it. Chew Toy would either sign on as Housekeeping and be bound to appropriate secrecy or he'd be out on his ass by the end of the week; either way Florrie would be safe from both loose-lipped trash and Vongola machinations and that was what mattered.

It was Monday morning and Maínomai was playing mahjong with Mjölnir, Trol and Orphnaeus in one of the breakfast rooms, Schön and the former Aethon –who had gone back to using Blindé since retiring to Housekeeping a few years back– sat on the floor petting Bester. The liger was lazily allowing the contact, tail swishing idly from time to time in enjoyment.

These three Chinese Lightnings had taught Maínomai to play mahjong –two different versions– and he liked doing it with them; nobody at the Varia had played the game at all until Squalo brought back sixteen Chinese Apprentices on his world tour, who between them played five different variants of the game. It had got popular fairly quickly –among the Mists in particular– as a change from the usual card games, so now just about everybody knew how to play one or two versions.

Maínomai knew all the variants and had come up with a few new ones, to ring the changes. Of course it being a game with points scored meant that everybody cheated relentlessly unless point-scoring was explicitly barred –scoring by number of wins rather than by points– and even then people did try to cheat a bit. Especially if the game was to determine who got first choice of loot or who had to get up to fetch the next round of drinks.

Nobody in the Varia –or the now-former Varia– ever played for money within Mammon's Territories. Doing so meant that the former Arcobaleno would somehow join the game and clear everybody out without being recognised until it was too late, then lecture the other players on 'wasting their money'. They even showed up when chocolate coins were the money being played for –it had been tested and proven– so nowadays people played for monopoly money –which the miser wasn't interested in since it had no value– favours, sweets or other trivial stakes. Like 'gets to pick what we're playing next' or 'first pick out of the box of chocolates.'

The only time nobody cheated was when everybody around the table agreed they were playing exclusively to pass the time; then the point of the game was the process not the victory, so cheating was 'ruining the experience.' Which was the kind of game Maínomai was playing now; he and the others didn't have anything else to do today and this was a way to pass the time without getting into trouble. It didn't mean they wouldn't play as hard and as strategically as they could; just that they weren't cheating.

Blindé also had a little camera attached to his head and was filming Bester's lazy pleasure at being fussed over. The liger had taken a shine to Mjölnir and had been making play difficult until the petite Lady had called Schön on her phone and she'd come to join them; Bester had then demonstrated that he liked both Lightning Ladies equally and been more than happy to be fussed over by the redhead instead.

Seeing as the last person Bester had taken such an overt liking to had been Patience, Maínomai had discreetly texted Raas to put his name down for Boss bonding with one or other of the Lightning Ladies inside the next six months. The former General Manager's reply made it clear he'd not noticed this yet, so Maínomai would get a cut of all bets as the person founding the pool; a nice bonus really.

It was eleven o'clock and it was incredibly quiet; there'd been no running and shouting in the hallways, no public fights, no messy pranks. It was almost suspicious, except that Patience was due to arrive today and Boss was in a really good mood as a result, which nobody wanted to ruin. Boss's good moods might be less rare than they used to be, but they were still elusive and Chew Toy showing up a week and a half ago had shortened the Sky's temper perceptibly.

It was a good thing Tyrant had taken the younger Sky on as a project –and made the teenager his personal Apprentice– and was keeping him out from underfoot, otherwise Boss would probably be significantly more trigger-happy right now. Maínomai had glimpsed Chew Toy in the rooftop garden and in the grounds a few times, but there were no traces of him anywhere in the main thoroughfares. According to rumour Tyrant was planning on putting Chew Toy –as well as Springer and Kalk– through some more academic work over the upcoming month or two, depending on what and how much they knew. It would also have the benefit of keeping all three of them busy and away from Patience, for all that the latter two might actually encounter her in the halls.

Springer was rather more visible than the younger two, trailing after Captain or negotiating the trap fields on various hallways, occasionally with Kalk alongside him offering tips, but he also avoided the ground floor as much as possible. As did Kalk actually; she'd really shot up since getting her organs and finally looked like she'd reached a healthy weight. Maínomai had worried about that –fake organs meant the possibility of not getting the trace elements you needed for long-term good health– but clearly she'd recovered well and Luss was still checking up on her, so if there were any problems they'd be nipped in the bud.

"So how's work going, Maínomai?" Orpnaeus asked, drawing a tile and discarding another.

"Very well; I'm getting lots of contracts," the Mist replied cheerfully. "My broker is grumpy about the cut she's getting, but that's her fault for not thinking I'd do as well as I have and deciding she wanted a set fee per mission rather than a percentage like I offered her to begin with."

"How much of a fee?"

"Well for scale, her fee is sixty percent of the lowest rate the Acquisitions Interchange accepts and forty percent of the average second-band rate, which is what the majority of missions come in as. However I'm well up in eighth-band now and by that point mission value is increasing exponentially by band, so she's getting barely two percent, if that." Maínomai grinned. "I offered her a flat tenth and she turned it down so she only has herself to blame." He might be a little flaky but he was Varia Quality regardless of that; ignoring that fact in favour of a first impression was just Belle-Dame being wilfully obtuse. Or possibly merely overly cynical.

Trol snickered, discarding a tile.

"What about you three? What are you doing?"

"Cage fights," Mjölnir chirped, drawing a tile. "Probably won't be much business in the off-season, but I've made enough money to tide me over; I get a cut of house profit on bets."

"Matches are rigged I assume?"

The petite Lightning shrugged. "Of course. It's about spectacle, not strength; it's an interesting challenge."

"Peri's set up a horror-themed club in the business district," Trol shared, "which Redcap's done the Wards of and gone to town on the decoration for him. I do door duty sometimes; a surprising number of people keep coming back, despite absolutely everybody fleeing the building screaming at some point before closing time."

Peri specialised in nightmarish hallucinations on par with any bad drug trip. "I guess some people like that kind of thing?" Maínomai ventured. "Unless it's them being macho and trying to get used to it?" Which wouldn't work; Peri's Mist-tricks hit the hindbrain terror switch directly rather than relying on the brain to hit it for him.

"I don't know and don't care," Trol said frankly, "but the money's good and some tourists apparently love it so much they're telling all their friends."

"We're doing less work with Security now Colonnello's left," Orphnaeus said, meaning Dark Horse when he said 'we,' "So Dīs signed us up with the new Pruning Service and set up a contract translation business as a spinoff of what Boss is doing." The 'Pruning Service' was the assassination cooperative Bel and Kuchisake were running.

"Sounds interesting," Maínomai admitted, drawing a tile.

"It's a pain; local translators are all grumpy about us 'disrupting the market'," the young Lightning groused, using air-quotes to make it clear how little he thought of said people's opinion. "Dīs is probably going to arrange something with one of them, just because that way we'll have an in and somebody who already knows all the other local assholes who is nominally on our side." He huffed. "I don't like any of them though."

"Fuck, ally with, kill?" Quite a lot of people were using the ranking system Boss had introduced to him these days, frequently facetiously but often practically.

"Yeah, we tried that," Orphnaeus agreed, "and found ourselves undecided between three equally shitty options. We may have to borrow a Persephone to get an inside look at motives and methods before deciding on someone specific." Dark Horse, like all Immortal Squads, had a number of idiosyncratic foibles and calling Mists 'Persephones' was one of theirs.

"Tell Dīs I don't mind," Maínomai offered, discarding a tile.

"Mahjong," Trol said abruptly, laying out his tiles and picking up the Mist's discard. There were theatrical sighs from Orphnaeus and Mjölnir as they also knocked their tiles over, Maínomai doing likewise and mentally tallying up points.

"Mjölnir loses," he said, turning all the tiles over and shuffling them as the twenty-one-year-old got to her feet and stretched.

"Okay, who wants what?"

"Huangjin Gui," Trol said instantly.

"Mengding Ganlu," Orphnaeus decided after a pause.

"Hot chocolate," Maínomai said, "with cream, please." As Mafia Land drifted southwards the air was getting cooler –it was currently autumn in the southern hemisphere– and it was therefore definitely hot chocolate weather.

"Limonata please, martelita," Schön said, glancing up from the liger in her arms.

"Just water for me, please," Blindé added, not looking away from Bester –the camera would have followed the movement– but signing 'star' at the petite Lightning.

"Golden osmanthus oolong, sweet dew green, hot chocolate, lemonade and water, plus marsala chai for me." Mjölnir nodded and walked out to fetch the drinks, which involved finding the nearest intercom and talking to Housekeeping. There were only three in the expanded Territory –they could only be installed on real walls– so anybody wanting drinks had to go to one to make their request. Hence the new trend of having whoever had lost a round of a game do it.

Having finished shuffling, Maínomai absently lined up all the tiles ready to deal again, then realised what he was doing and very deliberately took his hands off the table. It wasn't fair to deal while one person was out of the room.

"So have you decided on a job yet, Schön?"

"Boss has made me secretary of his negotiation business," the Brazilian Lightning said quietly, fingers digging into Bester's short mane, "so that calls can be fielded and appointments made in his absence. I have an official office in the satellite building and blanket permission to toss out anybody who treats me disrespectfully." She smiled softly. "Mostly he's paying me to be available during the agreed office hours, which aren't that long anyway, so I generally take basketwork to fill the time with."

Schön's baskets were beautiful and extremely well-made; Mafia Land had no shortage of palm fronds and grasses for harvesting, so a lot of the materials were even freely available. They were sold through Housekeeping –or else bought by Housekeeping and Flame-treated for various purposes– and made her a tidy income on the side. She also had a lap loom she wove patterned scarves on, but those took her longer and were correspondingly more expensive.

Maínomai was just about to ask what she'd made recently when Bester's ears twitched and he rose to his feet, disengaging from Schön and loping out of the room. Blindé immediately gave chase; Maínomai made eye-contact with Schön –who looked puzzled– and got to his feet, following after at a more leisurely pace. All three other Lightnings joined him, meeting Mjölnir in the corridor and adding her to their little party.

When they all arrived in the front hall the liger's reason for leaving was clear: there was a suitcase standing off to one side, Boss was sniggering and Patience was sat on the floor with legs splayed and sunglasses pushed up over her hair, arms around Bester's neck as he filled her lap and nuzzled her face, making hilariously undignified chuffs –neighing sneeze sounds– interspersed with happy throaty wheezes, tail waving excitedly.

"You're happy to see me, aren't you?" Patience crooned, chuckling as the liger head-butted her in the chest and knocked her off-balance backwards. "Careful!"

Bester shuffled further on top of her, completely covering her body and resting his paws on her shoulders, pinning her flat on the floor as he nosed at her face, still making those ridiculous happy sneezy noises.

"Get you out of the hallway," Boss said, grin bright as he glanced from the spectacle his Box Weapon was making to the gathered audience, including Blindé whose camera was likely still rolling. "Bester, off."

The liger ignored him completely. The Sky rolled his eyes, crouched down and grabbed Patience under the armpits, pulling her out from under the half-tonne Box Weapon and throwing her over his shoulder all in the same movement.

"Oof!" the Cloud gasped, hands clutching at the back of Boss's belt as he turned to grab her suitcase. Bester instantly lumbered off the floor, bounced over to nuzzle Patience's face –which was level with his– and trotted after Boss as the Sky headed into his apartment, so as to stay nose to nose with Cloud still flung over the man's shoulder, still chuffing.

The door closed behind the little cavalcade, the lock clicking.

"You know, everybody always talks about how much Bester likes Patience," Fracasso drawled, "but I think we were maybe understating it." Implied was that a Box Weapon reflected its owner's temperament; the idea of Boss being that completely delighted by his Cloud visiting made Maínomai want to coo. Except that would be a terribly unsafe thing to do.

Still, Bester didn't react like that to any of Boss's other Guardians!

Setting Florrie on the carpet in front of his sofa, Xanxus sniggered as Bester instantly resumed his enthusiastic greeting. The Sky then headed into the bedroom to put the suitcase out of the way, glanced back through the hall to see if the liger had calmed down yet –nope– and then quickly scanned his shelves for something they could do while sitting on the floor with a lapful of big cat.

His gaze settled on Grandma's photo albums.

Okay, yes. He'd looked through them already –and read the letters she'd left him– so there weren't any surprises there. Just the occasional tender spot. Florrie would let him gloss over those though and she'd be interested in the family anecdotes and how far back the photographs went, so he should share. There were fewer painful pitfalls in the historical albums, so he should start there.

Picking up all four of said albums, Xanxus headed back into the living room. A good quarter of these pictures were photographs of earlier daguerreotypes and ambrotypes, which were all buried in the Vongola Archives somewhere. Probably in Mist-managed cold storage; one of Grandma's letters said that she'd taken all those photographs herself, so that more people could have access to prints of what the earlier generations of the Family had looked like. Xanxus had no idea where the other prints had gone, but he'd inherited two suitcases full of glass and film negatives as well as the albums, so he could always print more if he wanted.

Settling himself on the carpet –not the leopard one she'd given him for Christmas; that was in his bedroom– Xanxus shoved Bester aside so he could sit next to Florrie and opened the first album. "Grandma left me her albums," he said. "Photos of the Family going back to the eighteen-forties; those were daguerreotypes, but she photographed them herself to make for easier viewing."

There were no photos of Primo with his Guardians –his defection predated the invention of the photography process– but there were some excellent etchings which Grandma had prints of and some careful and relatively recent colour photos of the official paintings. Those were much later on in the albums though.

Florrie leaned into him, still idly scratching Bester behind the ears as she looked down at the first page. "So who're these guys then?"

Xanxus pointed to the central portrait, of a man he did rather strongly resemble in a dark jacket, necktie and shirt. "Ricardo Vongola," he waved at the other portraits on the page, "and Guardians. Matteo Marino," the grinning sailor in the top left corner, a Cloud, "Agnese Floris," the woman centre left, a Sun, "Francois Sebastien Louis-Philippe Leroy-Moreau," the Lightning in the bottom left and the most intricately dressed, "Daemon Spade," top right, facial expression bland yet somehow unsettling, "Iphis Superbi, his second wife," also his Storm Guardian, just as Secondo's first wife Maria Simon had been, "and Ugochukwu Chukwuemeka." Rain Guardian and born into slavery, but liberated at a fairly young age by the Vongola and one of the first properly documented cases of snap-bonding.

"Interesting mix of names."

Xanxus hummed; Secondo's grab-bag of Guardians was almost more interesting than Primo's had been, including as it did two –well technically three– women. "The Frenchman with the interminable name was a nobleman whose parents got him out of France as a child, returned during the eighteen-fourteen restoration and then when Napoleon escaped Elba decided he liked being outside France better," he shared. "Agnese was his accountant; she was married to one of Primo's men but he died, so she was one of the first recipients of the Vongola's pensions for widows and orphans." It was the stories that made these people fascinating really. "Iphis Superbi was technically a merchant captain, but in reality she was more of a privateer; her ship rescued Secondo's from pirates three years after his first wife died and it was love at first sight."

"I feel that says a lot more about him than it does about her," Florrie commented. "And this guy?" She tapped the smirking Cloud.

"Matteo Marino; first Guardian. Ran into him in Palermo aged fourteen –Secondo was fourteen; Matteo was twenty-five– and followed him home." Also possibly a snap-bond, but not documented because that had been right about the time Primo had founded the Vongola properly and there'd been too much of everything else going on for anybody to pay their new Don's oldest half-brother's new minion any mind.

"And the African gentleman with the name I don't think I can do justice to?"

"Ugochukwu Chukwuemeka," Xanxus repeated, "of the Igbo people. His mother was a slave in Egypt; Secondo rescued him off a Mediterranean slave ship aged nine." History did not mention Ugo's father, which implied the man had probably been his mother's owner. "Secondo was sixteen or seventeen by then; he promptly led a raid on the city Ugo had been sold from, killed a load of slave owners and liberated their slaves, including Ugo's mother." What had happened to her was also not mentioned; she could have died or gone home to her family or simply retired to Vongola Housekeeping and vanished into obscurity. Men in that time period generally hadn't talked much about their mothers and servants, although they occasionally referenced their wives and daughters.

Woman had also been less likely to be permitted to be literate and Sicily had been terrible for literacy until the middle of the last century anyway. Women like Agnese Floris had very definitely been the exception, not the rule; Maria Simon hadn't known how to read and her brother Corzato hadn't either, being serfs. Primo himself had only known more than the most pitiful of basics because his step-mother had been the daughter of a nobleman's housekeeper and her mother had made a point of passing the education on to all her children.

Daemon Space had then built upon that basic servant's education to ensure Primo could pass as minor nobility at parties, so by the time he was twenty-five the Vongola's founder had been more knowledgeable of classical literature, the arts and the sciences than his own Lightning Guardian, who despite being born to privilege had not been particularly interested in pursuing an education. Well, not until after his Sky abandoned him anyway.

Turning the page, Xanxus revealed another collection of prints, these of couples and family groups and significantly less formally posed that the earlier ones.

"Is this Secondo again?" Florrie asked, tapping the portrait of said Vongola Don with an older woman.

"Yes, with his mother." That was not the only picture of her; she was in the print of the daguerreotype with her son and her six surviving grandchildren from her son's first marriage as well, which was just below it on the page. "Think her name was Maria." There'd been a lot of Marias. "Here she is again, with Secondo's kids by his first wife." Four sons and two daughters, including the near-adult Terzo and the more visibly teenage Quarto; there was a grave with four names on the headstone in the Vongola catacombs, of the three little girls who hadn't made it out of infancy and the still-born boy that Maria Simon had died bearing.

"So these are Secondo's younger children, with him and his second wife."

"Yeah; think this was taken about eighteen sixty-two, since the youngest's still a toddler and the oldest girl looks fully grown; she'd be twenty."

"Seven children in less than twenty years, after already having six? That's pretty impressive."

"Seven surviving children," Xanxus corrected; there was another little grave for Iphis's infant and toddler children who had died, all five of them. She'd reportedly suffered several miscarriages as well.

"Oh. Yes; that used to happen more before vaccines were developed."

Xanxus hummed and pointed to another picture. "This is Lampo Ruffo; he was Primo's Guardian." The middle-aged man was grinning delightedly, arms wrapped around his smiling wife with a line of four little girls in front of them, ranging from maybe fourteen to possibly six, all also grinning. "Plus wife and daughters."

"This is possibly the happiest picture from this period I've ever seen."

It was rather unusual to see everybody beaming like that, yes; smiling like that had been considered 'simple,' but Lampo being Lampo it had probably been on purpose. Possibly to stick it to his more self-important noble relatives.

"Do you know names for all these people?"

"Some of them are in the margins." Xanxus tapped his Grandma's tiny print, all in capital letters for legibility. "Left to right and in rows, with ages."

Florrie moved the album closer, abandoning Bester entirely in favour of the pictures; the liger was however apparently satisfied with the attention he'd received and rolled over onto his back to nap.

"Who's this?"

Xanxus blinked; how had he never seen that photo before?! Glaring at it, he picked out the Mist-traces surrounding it –hiding the image from Flame-Actives who didn't already know it was there– and shredded them, revealing a further two prints and three labels.

The one his Cloud had called his attention to was of an older European man in Japanese formalwear, white hair pulled back samurai-style beside a more middle-aged Japanese lady, with a visibly mixed-blooded man and another younger Japanese woman standing slightly in front and to the side of them. Both the women were holding children, one an infant and the other a toddler.

"That's Primo, after he retired to Japan," Xanxus realised, reading the label; he hadn't realised there were pictures that had made it back. "Calling himself Ieyasu; that's his wife Hachisuko next to him, his oldest son Yoshimune, his son's wife Ume with his granddaughters Yoshiko and Tsuko. Taken in eighteen-sixty-six; Primo's seventy-one then."

The next photo was of Primo-Ieyasu again, this time with three men who were obviously his grown-up sons; the label said 'Sawada Ieyasu with his sons Yoshimune, Ietsugu and Ienobu, eighteen-sixty-six.'

The third photo was of Primo-Ieyasu on the far left, his youngest son to his right, a woman to his right and an elderly Japanese samurai in full formal rig on the furthest right. The couple in the middle had a teenager between them and slightly in front, also in full samurai gear and looking very proud of himself.

"This is Primo's Rain Guardian," Xanxus pointed to the old man on the right, "with his daughter who is marrying Primo's youngest son; the grandson's taken his name." Indeed the label said 'Sawada Ieyasu, Sawada Ienobu and Asari Ukaika, Asari Ugetsu; Ienobu and Ukaika's son Asari Yoshinori, eighteen-sixty-six.'

"You didn't know these were here?"

"They were hidden from people with Active Flames; I did know Primo wrote to Secondo after retiring to Japan, but I didn't know they'd exchanged photographs." Well, daguerreotypes. It was amazing they'd made the journey intact as they were rather fragile.

Florrie nodded acceptingly and turned the page. "So who are these?"

Xanxus took his cue and continued his introduction of the early Vongola; there were a lot more photos starting in Quarto's time, since by then it had been possible to create glass slides and paper prints with relative ease and the Superbi had been extremely into it, doing all kinds of experiments with the chemicals and the process to try to refine it and cheating with Flames a lot. There were even quite a few photos of Terzo and his household, which considering he'd been murdered aged barely twenty-eight said that somebody there had really been going to town with the photographs in those brief few years.

All in all, this was a much nicer way to introduce his Cloud to the Vongola than through one of those terrible biased textbooks or the biographies in Sicilian shark's little sister had rescued from the old fart's censorship purge. Showing her pictures involved less translation.

Part of Lal didn't want to go to Mafia Land, not even for a day at the very end of the season; she just wanted to leave this entire chapter of her life behind her and move on. But the rest of her –parts she'd only recently rediscovered– insisted on it. She would find Colonnello and tell him she was never going to marry him, that they'd never had a relationship and that she despised him for constantly ignoring her stated feelings and telling her that of course she loved him.

She had words for that now; it was called gaslighting. Manipulation. Dismissal of her agency. Emotional abuse. Visiting a counsellor while attending university had been an excellent idea and it had helped her so much, for all that she'd had to leave out certain details both to preserve Omertà and not sound delusional. Just talking with her fellow students and the younger professors had been equally helpful; so many things gone unquestioned from her childhood and military career that had been not only unhelpful but outright restricting her own growth and improvement…

Asking at the general office revealed that the blond idiot was no longer running the training for the island's security and had instead joined a Family. Not what she'd expected, honestly; much less that the family was the Cavallone. She hadn't been keeping track of Underworld goings-on while attending university –well not beyond visiting a local bar every weekend for a quiet drink and to eavesdrop on local gossip– so this was a surprise.

She'd heard about the Varia Boss quitting, followed by his Officers, and later heard confused rambles about the rest of the Varia either vanishing or retiring or moving headquarters –details were fuzzy– and even that the CEDEF had recently collapsed. Probably gone bankrupt; she had warned Iemitsu about the excessive spending but he clearly hadn't listened to her. Probably hadn't listened to Basil either; despite her having trained him, the young Rain was Iemitsu's flunky through and through. He could easily have gotten killed due to Iemitsu since her leaving, but she privately hoped he'd survived and wised up a bit.

Lal was vaguely familiar with Mafia Land's addressing system, but that didn't make locating the local Cavallone residence any easier. She wandered back and forth through the business sector for a while, enjoying the cool breeze ruffling her short hair and getting a feel for how the streets had shifted since she was last here. There was a new clinic on the outskirts and one of the major roads had migrated to travel past it, looping around a boarding house and another office block before looping back closer to the shoreline. The residential sector could be reached by turning off down one of the many snickets between the trees rather than heading back to the seafront; the apartment blocks were planted somewhat haphazardly, a ragged scatter of cement pillars emerging from the vegetation with paint and shutters bleached and weathered by the salt air.

She eventually located the right building, looking much as all the other blocks did. The paint was a little fresher and there were plants on more of the balconies, but that was it really: it had the same row of industrial-sized bins out the front, the same token fence marking the perimeter of the property and the same small cluster of people loitering in the shade of the porch, bored and whiling away the time gambling or just talking.

She crossed the open space between fence posts, beside a letterbox that proclaimed the building to be 'Le Scuderie' –an amusing pun– and the air abruptly twisted and distorted around her. Blinking, Lal realised several things at once: firstly, she had just walked into a Territory; secondly, this Territory felt like Viper; thirdly, the 'loiterers' over on the steps were very clearly wearing Varia uniforms; fourthly–

"Lal! You came back! I knew you would, kora!"

Seeing the idiot blond –not her student or ex-student, not her anything and she was all the better for it– running towards her, very obviously elementary age or younger, made the embarrassment she'd been free of for so long well up like a storm surge. How could he do this to her?!

A thin translucent purple-limned tentacle reached out from the group on the steps and wrapped around Colonne– no –she refused to call him that, he wasn't an officer– around Svevo Gennaro's chest, yanking him backwards so he fell on his ass in the sand.

"Manners, squirt," the young woman at the other end of the glowing tentacle said coolly, moving forwards as the others –clearly her subordinates– spread out to provide flanking support.

"But it's Lal!" the pseudo five-year-old in the black leather outfit pleaded over his shoulder. "We're engaged kora!" he turned back to smile eagerly at her, making her stomach twitch queasily.

The brown-haired young woman in the Varia uniform –complete with the stripe on her upper arm proclaiming her a Squad Leader, along with an additional seniority stripe– used the tentacle emerging from the general vicinity of her left hand –a Box Weapon?– to lift Gennaro back to his feet and turn him around. "She's a paedophile?"

Lal recoiled; she most certainly was not!

"Of course not!" Gennaro protested hotly, hands waving. "She's Lal! We were Arcobaleno together, kora! She agreed to marry me after the Curse was removed!"

"So you just don't care that your wanting to marry her makes her look like a paedophile then," the Squad Leader –clearly Gennaro's Squad Leader– said evenly. "What have Micia and I said about trying to romance people, squirt?"

Gennaro shuffled. "That if I actually care about the other person I won't until I'm adult again, because sane and healthy adults are not sexually attracted to children and find the very idea distressing, and if anybody does respond positively I'm to tell you so you can make them disappear. But, but it's Lal! She knows I love her! I have since before we got Cursed, kora!"

"Your obsession is noted." The woman glanced at Lal for the first time, her one-over brief and professional. "Tetro, please escort our guest to Boss, so she can make her request in person."

The man on the far right nodded. "Yes sir." He then met Lal's eyes squarely. "This way please, sir."

"I'm not obsessed! She loves me too, kora! She does! Lal, tell her! Lal? Lal!"

Surprisingly gratified to be addressed as 'sir' by a Varia assassin, Lal walked past Gennaro –and did not look down at him as he kept trying to get her attention, tugging against the restraining tentacle like a yappy dog on a short leash– and followed Tetro into the building.

All her plans had gone out the window the moment she saw Gennaro again, but this was still going better than it might have done. The blond idiot having senior officers who were able to keep his behaviour in check meant that she might be able to get him to stop pursuing her, rather than just resigning herself to spending the rest of her life avoiding him.

What she'd seen –and what she remembered– of Xanxus formerly-of-the-Vongola indicated he was a cunning, professional and charismatic leader who did not allow his subordinates' extraordinary abilities stand in the way of discipline; a man who discriminated on the basis of skill, not gender or nationality or sexual orientation. He would hopefully take her reasons for visiting seriously.

Xanxus had been in his office considering the feedback from his essays that his tutors had made available and planning how he could expand on the required reading for next year, Florrie curled up on the small sofa with Optima and reading a book, when one of the Problems walked in with Lal Mirch. If indeed the woman in front of him was still calling herself that.

"Sumu said to bring our guest to you, Boss."

Xanxus identified the Lightning by voice rather than Flame-feel; Tetro and Arcigno were disconcertingly identical for first cousins. "Thank you Tetro; please wait outside."

"Yes Boss." He left. Xanxus closed his laptop and shoved it off to one side, waving at the two fiddleback chairs pushed against the wall on his right.

"Sit."

Lal paused, glanced at Florrie –who had not looked up from her book yet– and then moved one of the chairs to face him and sat down.

"Your request," Xanxus pressed, using a bit of Flame to ensure his Cloud couldn't hear what they were talking about; Harmony had interesting effects on acoustics. Lal stiffened –definitely more sensitive to Flames being used around her than his newest recruit– glanced sideways as Florrie then spoke:

"I decided to come here speak to m– to Gennaro as one last attempt to get him to leave me alone. I do not want to have to spend the rest of my life avoiding him and having to talk about past experiences to new friends so they know not to listen to him."

Xanxus inclined his head, accepting her reasoning and inviting her to continue. Lal glanced at his Cloud again –who was still engrossed in her book and idly rubbing Optima's head– and continued, a trickle of feeling seeping into her words:

"I have already allowed him far too great an influence over myself and allowed myself to be manipulated into interacting with him when I had no desire to do so, as well as seeking him out when I really should have known better. I hope that a clean break will make it easier for both of us to leave the past where it belongs."

"He stole your Will," Xanxus commented; it wasn't that hard for an observer to figure out, or for Mammon to do so either while they were studying the Curse. That none of the others had come to the same conclusion said volumes about what they actually knew about Flames and how little the so-called 'strongest seven' had cared about each-other. It was increasingly obvious now the Curse was broken, as the little idiot's lack of reserves had become even more apparent.

"Pardon?"

"You were the one picked to be Arcobaleno, not him; your reserves are more than four times his. The Pacifier should have killed him," Xanxus explained. Compared to Lal the faux six-year-old was pathetic and not just in reserves either. "But it didn't and you lost your Primary Flame; it was bound in the Pacifier and therefore in his keeping until the Curse was broken. A portion of your soul and the manifestation of your main drives." He paused. "Not surprised you sought him out; also not surprised you can't stand him. He never listened to you."

"I… by interfering he stole my Flames?!" Clearly she knew what that actually meant, unlike Micia's new headache who barely knew more than the most basic of Underworld fundamentals. A lifetime on Mafia Land had coddled him. So much ingrained Dumb and an underlying unwillingness to sit down and think past the first thought that popped into his head…

"Dislocated them certainly," Xanxus conceded. "Curse still affected you after all; wonder what would have happened if anybody had taken the Pacifiers away from the others when you were all so tightly bound to them." He had a theory that there would have been more than just one 'failed' or dead Arcobaleno if that had happened; a Curse that affected a person's entire being so catastrophically would not settle for anything less. It was now known what happened when the Pacifiers were taken away after fully bonding to their bearers –death, or zombification if Bermuda got there in time which was still technically death– but in those early days before the Curse settled? It had likely been possible to survive. Physically.

Lal's fists clenched, her Flames shuddering with Cloud and Mist flaring clearly through the Rain. "Luce –she didn't say– she just let him keep it!"

Xanxus shrugged. "Might not have known; not everybody's got good enough Flame-senses to pick out details like that. Maybe she expected him to die and for you to take it back, or maybe the fact that your Flames were there too meant the Pacifier was less of a drain on his reserves, so the residuals were in line with what everybody else had left, so she thought he was carrying the burden alone. Not like it matters now."

Lal's eyes flashed, but she very deliberately let the tension subside. "True, it no longer makes a difference," she agreed quietly, "but it does explain a great deal. Like why I missed him at all."

"You missed yourself, not him," Xanxus corrected quietly. "Looking much better now."

There was a pause as his guest frowned, dissecting the comment and eventually deciding he meant in Flame terms –which he did– rather than his words being a commentary of her being physically adult again. "Thank you."

"Welcome. Want me to have Sumu bring him in?" Micia was having an unexpectedly bad pain day today, hence her lie-in and the texts to her superiors, so the former Cloud Officer –who retained her seniority and authority just as the other ex-Officers did– had stepped in to make sure the Problems were all supervised and didn't get themselves into trouble. It had been a surprisingly prescient move, considering how the afternoon was turning out.

Lal nodded firmly. "That would probably be best."

Xanxus flexed his Flames, prompting Tetro to open the office door. "Yes Boss?"

"Tell Sumu I want her to bring the newest Problem over."

"Yes Boss." The door closed again; Lal got out of her chair and set it back against the wall, then turned towards the door and settled into parade rest. Probably an instinctive comfort measure; God knew he had dozens of those himself.

Florrie glanced up as the door opened, briefly looked his way then returned to her book as he offered her a quick reassuring smile. Nobody else noticed; the new Problem was already making a spectacle of himself, restrained by a tentacle from Sumu's Box Weapon like a dog on a leash. A yappy dog.

"Lal! I–"

"Shut up," the older ex-Arcobaleno said flatly. The apparent child did so, possibly in surprise. "You ruined my life, do you know that? Or did you not even notice?"

"But I–"

"I said. Shut. Up." She loomed forwards, Flames seething. The idiot shut up.

"I had a seven-year career in the GOI and by the end of it I was a Second Capo Scelto, did you know that? Then I got transferred to the Gruppo Scuole and made a Capo di Terza Classe. I spent three years teaching and you know what? I was a damn good teacher. I got a promotion to Capo di Seconda Classe and was being considered for another promotion when you came along." She took a sharp breath, Flames sharpening.

"You disrespected me right from day one and you just wouldn't stop! You and your fucking flirting that would have gotten any female cadet chucked out within the month, but that everybody laughed off and let slide because you were a man and I wasn't! Everybody acted like it was my responsibility to make you stop and I had to be 'leading you on' somehow when I sure as shit was not! I just wanted you to stop! But you didn't give a shit what I wanted; you've never given a shit what I wanted! You only cared about what you wanted, which was to fuck me! And when I kept turning you down you just got more persistent! By the time you graduated I was under observation, had been skipped over for the promotion because my senior officers felt I was 'too emotional' and had it 'suggested' I take a sabbatical to 'consider my options.' All because you couldn't take 'no' for an answer! They thought I had to be doing something to encourage you, that I was abusing my position of authority and behaving inappropriately towards my students! Because I was twice your age and a fresh cadet couldn't possibly be this persistently infatuated unless I was stringing them along somehow!"

She paused, heaving in a deep breath. "Then I get invited to some hush-hush project, I spend a year getting to know everybody and learning new things and making friends and you swan in at the last minute and take it all away! I thought I'd finally got away from you but no, you actually deserted your post to stalk me! You are a disgrace to the uniform! I was on leave and resigned my position after being Cursed but you just ran away! Deserter! Traitor!"

The hundred-and-ten centimetre Problem cringed, apparently unable to muster a defence in the face of the tirade. This was nothing Xanxus hadn't already known, but it was still rather depressing to hear. It didn't suggest Quality after all.

"It took all my self-control not to report you! You deserved to be shot! But Luce insisted you were an Arcobaleno now and part of the Underworld! Then what do you do? You decide your single year of service qualifies you to teach! You ignorant, arrogant amateur! I am ashamed of ever having been your ranking officer! I should have pushed harder to have you thrown out!"

"But, but Lal!"

"I'm not finished," she hissed; despite sitting behind and a little to one side of her Xanxus could tell that her pupils were glowing faintly blue from the way the light reflected off the far wall. "I never loved you. You have been nothing but a thorn in my side from the day I first set eyes on you. Your ridiculous obsession with my body cost me my career, the next thirty-three years of my life and my mental health; I never want to see you again. If I ever do see you again, I will act as though I have no idea who you are and act as a lady should when confronted by a strange man who insists he's in love with her: either call the police or shoot you in the head. Am I clear?!"

"But, but you agreed to marry me, kora!"

"You harassed me for over thirty years and in a moment of weakness after being released from the Arcobaleno Curse I said the one thing that would get you to stop bothering me for a little while," Lal replied tartly. "I hope your new superiors have the patience to teach you about consent, because you clearly haven't got the faintest idea what it entails, you, you fuckboy."

Behind Sumu, Arcigno hastily smothered a snigger.

"I only came here to get some closure and tell you to stay away from me," Lal concluded, voice going flat and terribly tired. "I don't have to put up with you anymore and I'm not going to." With that she swept past the shortest Problem and out of the office door, Flames quivering slightly; Florrie perched her open book over the sofa arm and hurried after her, dislodging Optima who wandered up to Tetro.

Optima liked Problem Squad for some reason. She hadn't warmed to the shortest idiot yet though.

"Boss, please, tell her to come back, kora!"

For very good reason, clearly. "Not going to let you manipulate her into feeling guilty for wanting her boundaries and agency respected," he informed his very Problematic newest recruit, getting to his feet. "Won't have that kind of behaviour in my Family; it's a stain on my reputation."

The blithering moron clearly didn't recognise the quote from his contract, which was a sign he was on damn thin ice as it was. "I didn't mean to do any of those things, kora! It wasn't on purpose!"

"All the more reason to keep you away from her," Xanxus drawled, idly fingering one of his guns. No, the gun would be too quick; good thing Tyrant had stopped by to keep him company a few times while he was recovering from his night terrors after New Year and taught him the nuances of that oh-so-interesting Flame-trick he favoured. Xanxus had been aware of the generalities already, but the subtleties were important too.

"But, I need her to forgive me!"

"Repentance is between you and God," Xanxus pointed out, "and she doesn't need to forgive you. That's her choice. And forgiving you doesn't mean she 'needs' to give you another chance either." Which was what the fuckboy actually wanted.

"But I love her, kora!"

Xanxus decided he'd had enough of this horse shit. "No," he said flatly, Flames reaching out, "you don't." He watched the moron's eyes widen, no doubt intimately aware that his heart had just stopped beating but unable to move or do anything about it. "If you actually loved her you'd listen to her, because what she wants would mean more to you than what you want. She's right; you're just a Stupid fuckboy." He moved around his desk as the faux-child crumpled to the floor, making sure to keep eye-contact. "There's no room for Stupid in my Family."

He let the asphyxiation continue until a full half-minute had passed, then flexed his
Flames and restarted the idiot's heart just as his eyes started going glassy.

"This in your only warning," he continued as the diminutive blond gasped like a dying fish, turning his back and walking around his desk to sit down again.

"You, you killed me."

Xanxus glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

Going by the look on his face, yes, the idiot had. How Dumb could you get?

"Right there in the contract," he reminded the moron, opening his laptop and pulling it in front of him. He'd text Micia later to make sure the little horndog had pointed out to him the nuances in phrasing he'd clearly missed. "Get out before I do it again; permanently."

Five seconds later his office was empty, Optima having followed out after the Lightning who was scratching her behind the ears. Looking at his degree work and deciding he wasn't in the mood anymore, Xanxus got up and went looking for his Cloud.

He eventually found Florrie in his apartment, with Lal, both of them sitting on the sofa with a pot of tea next to them of the coffee table. Recognising the signs of his Cloud in full-blown comfort mode, he walked right through to the kitchen and started making himself a coffee.

Florrie wandered after him a few minutes later. "Everything sorted out?"

"Hm. Made it clear to short and Dumb that he's only getting one more chance." He'd meant it when he'd said there was no room for fuckboys in his Family; that kind of behaviour was wilful Stupid and he'd sooner see those people dead than have them ruining his reputation. Dead meant they weren't being Stupid about when, where and in whom they were trying to get their dicks wet. "How's our guest?"

"Doing better for having somebody less inherently upsetting to vent to and be affirmed by, as well as some tea."

"Tea always helps," Xanxus agreed. Florrie went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek; Xanxus felt Lal's Flames twitch slightly, indicating that she was watching through the open door.

"Brought your book," he added, removing it from his jacket –complete with an improvised bookmark– and setting it on the worktop. His Cloud leaned into his side and hugged him; he reciprocated, ducking down for another quick kiss, on the lips this time.

"Thank you," she told him, finally moving away and collecting the book.

"Very welcome," he assured her, turning back to his coffee as the change in sound from the mokka pot indicated that it was almost ready to pour. He wasn't sure how long Lal would end up staying, but she'd either have a hotel room or a seat on an outgoing ferry booked, so she probably wouldn't stick around for that long. She wouldn't have planned to spend long on Mafia Land after all, not when she'd expected to do her shouting and then have get out of reach sharpish afterwards.

He should call Mammon; they might want to catch up with the only colleague they'd deemed 'tolerable,' now that Lal was actually fully herself rather than just a shell of who she had been.

Xanxus had been making Box Weapons since February, but only handed them out a few days after Mafia Land went into isolation on the seventh of June; it wouldn't have been practical to train with a new Box Weapon when the island was full of tourists and spies, but now most people had either left or were employed renovating and repairing the tourist attractions, hotels, roads and sea defences and upgrading the security there wouldn't be anybody on the mountain or wandering around the more remote beaches –in theory– so there was space for everybody to experiment. Any nosy onlookers who wandered away from their jobs to take a closer look would be fair game; testing new equipment after all, accidents happened. There might be a spot of localised damage, but Xanxus didn't mind paying for that; the Stables didn't have any indoor training rooms suitable for using Flames in.

He'd been looking forward to this for months; Squalo said his Box Weapon choices were a reflection of his shitty sense of humour, but that was just the shark being a spoilsport. His choices of animal were appropriate and gave the recipients an opportunity to expand their fighting style, closing blind-spots and improving range!

He did have fun with the puns, but he'd always done that. That was why Karaṭi had a bear and Varg had a wolf, if an American maned wolf rather than the regular kind. It was also why Kuchisake had moths, although that was more subtle; the kind of moths she had were called great grey witches and shark often referred to her as 'horror witch'.

It wasn't all word games; there were visual puns and allusions to personality too, which was why Alizeti had a flamingo –to match his hair– Maínomai had hummingbirds and Glace had a caiman. Now a mid-sized caiman in fact, for all that Xanxus had caught it and turned it into a Box Weapon as a juvenile.

Hence why Tsue now had a net-casting spider –an allusion to her wirework specialisation– Curare had a blue-ringed octopus, Micia had a serval hybrid that had been a pet until it developed a lethal kidney disorder and Redcap had a greater flying fox, although the latter was a more layered pun referencing the fact that movie 'vampire bats' were usually flying foxes because they were larger and more dramatic to film.

He'd given Mahi the tiniest bird of prey he could find, an African hobby, because seeing the massive man holding the tiny bird on his fist amused him; it was shorter than his cousin's hand. It was also a bird known for hunting swallows on the wing, which was all the advantage Xanxus was willing to offer to a relative who regularly sparred against Springer.

Schön had also been given a Box Weapon, but because she specialised in subterfuge and espionage rather than direct combat he'd made her a Box Weapon that could pass as a pet. Hence his buying a fancy ferret from a breeder –champagne coloured to make it easier to differentiate from Bel's albino mink– and using that, rather than poaching a wild animal. She loved it and had taken to wearing it across her shoulders around the Stables, as well as making it a basket to sleep in rather than putting it back in its ring.

He'd also cracked 'generic' Box Weapons –ones which could be opened by anybody rather than keying themselves to the first non-Sky who opened them– and made a few for each Flame-type that the other Squad Leaders could take turns with. They were all less charismatic animals, designed to blend into a range of locations, so there were rats, foxes, several species of seagulls –he'd had fun shooting those down with a rifle– a few domestic-looking cats who'd been coming to the end of their lifespans, deer, squirrels, crows and most amusingly a few electric eels he'd not been able to resist turning into Lightning and Rain Box Weapons. The Rain electric eel was still electric, which was what he'd been hoping for although it was very tricky to wield as a result.

Sooner or later people would realise they could pay him to make them a Box Weapon, but for now he was just doing it for fun. He wouldn't sell them to anybody outside of his people, but if somebody decided they were prepared to pay in order to jump to the front of the queue, that was fine.

They didn't get to choose what they got though, although they were always free to make suggestions.

He was pondering getting his sketchbook before joining Florrie on his balcony –which was veiled so it looked empty– when there was a knock at his apartment door. Heading over to open it, Xanxus's eyebrow twitched when the visitors turned out to be Chew Toy plus Guardians and Mahi.

"There's something wrong with Springer's Box Weapon, Boss," the seven-foot Superbi said without preamble. "We were messing about up the hill so I could get a feel for Lodolaia and Kojirō reformed incompletely after my girl caught him." 'Lodolaia' was what Mahi was calling his hobby; it was a typically Superbi naming choice –it meant 'hobby'– although the literal translation was 'lark-catcher'.

Hence the concerned peanut gallery; well at least this was an interesting problem. "The Box Weapon," he demanded, holding out a hand. Springer gave him the ring and he turned back into the apartment towards the hallway, then turned back and detoured to the kitchen to turn off the gas under the kettle.

Wouldn't do to have it boil dry because he wasn't paying attention.

The only way to work on a Box Weapon was to have it actually be box shaped, which meant reversing the slightly brain-bending trick that turned them ring-shaped in the first place. Xanxus knew how though –had paid Talbot a lot of money to teach him– and really, turning the Boxes into rings was actually safer; it was much harder to damage the internal circuitry when all said circuitry was cleverly folded away into higher dimensions.

Having an audience of four stacked on the stairs leading down to his basement workshop was perhaps a little annoying, but it was Springer's Box Weapon, Kalk and Mahi were no problem and he couldn't tell just Chew Toy to leave. Ignoring them was fairly easy though, as Mahi had considerately put up a veil to muffle sound and Flames so the inevitable questions wouldn't distract him. It also meant Chew Toy's Flames weren't as annoying as usual; Tyrant had managed to teach the trash to Activate his Flames the normal way rather than switching straight to Dying Will Mode all the time, which was good but it meant Xanxus could feel how anxious Chew Toy was. Muted now compared to before at least, but still obsessively stressing over every little thing.

The Rain Swallow ring resisted the transformation back to box-shaped, which it really shouldn't have done. Xanxus had to both push harder and use Harmony to ease the process through, but after fifteen minutes he had a cubic blue Box Weapon for his troubles.

A visibly damaged blue Box Weapon. Xanxus probed it cautiously with his Flames; the damage looked odd, like it had been attacked with Storm Flames.

What kind of metal was this? He'd expected it to be heavily imbued with Rain Flames –that was normal– but this wasn't anything like the alloys he used.

Oh right; Chew Toy's people had brought their Box weapons out of the fake future. The theory had been that Yuni had used the Sky Pacifier to make them real –as she had herself– but this didn't look like that was what had happened. Feeling for the seams, Xanxus frowned when he couldn't immediately find any.

If this was a created object, there should be seams. The only technological items that lacked seams were Mist-constructs.

Hm. That was a thought…

He turned towards the steps. "Brought your Vongola rings with you, trash?"

"Tsuna said to leave them behind," Springer said easily in reply, his words bypassing the veil since Xanxus had initiated the conversation.

Xanxus nodded absently –confirmation– and went back to exploring the Box Weapon with his Flames. The security on it was shit –early model of course, as after getting the fake memories Verde had improved the designs so as to sell the Boxes at a higher price– so he could probably open it if he wanted to. Opening it would help reveal where the problems were.

He didn't need the flashy lightshow and opened the Box Weapon without one; it just took control rather than pouring Flames in willy-nilly. The surprised faces in the corner of his eye indicated they hadn't realised you could do that; amateurs. Then the bird coalesced and Xanxus went back to ignoring his audience in favour of the puzzle to hand.

The resulting swallow looked more like a glitchy hologram than anything else. Understandable when Box Animals were basically hard-light constructs; something off with the projector and the transformer maybe? Behaviour wasn't quite right either though; that implied a more fundamental problem, something attacking the etched gemstone core the personality matrix was inscribed in.

Combat damage would only have affected the projector and transformer, possibly the buffers and battery; for there to be wear on the personality matrix –which even in these early boxes had been inscribed on gems with an absolute hardness of at least one hundred, like quartz– it would have to have suffered considerable damage which should show elsewhere too since damage like that would be indiscriminate. As a Rain Box this one probably used blue spinel at its core, which was at least half as hard again as quartz.

Storm Flames couldn't damage spinel; it was a universal Flame conductor, although it only amplified Rain Flames. More fuel for his hypothesis.

Closing the Box Weapon then reaching into it with his Sky Flames, Xanxus grabbed a pen and paper and started sketching blindly. Yes, the structure was right, but the materials didn't feel right. It felt… undifferentiated. Like it had been injection moulded in a single piece, circuits, core and all. There were certain Flame-Tech alloys that let you do that sort of thing –whatever the focus medium on the Vongola Rings was for instance because those weren't gemstones– but they were rare, expensive and took incredible skill to both manufacture and shape.

Making an entire Box Weapon out of them was just Stupid, especially when this Box Weapon had supposedly been made by Koenig, Innocenti and Verde, who as scientists wouldn't have the required craftsmanship to create such materials or the money for the raw ingredients; they had sold the fake Box Weapons as cheaply as they did to fund other research, so they couldn't have sold them at a loss. Yes, the old ghoul had modified them, but Xanxus seriously doubted he'd done this. Besides, there wasn't Talbot's tell-tale mark anywhere; the old ghoul hid them well, but everything he'd ever made had his maker's mark on it, just as Xanxus signed all his projects regardless of whether he was selling them or giving them away.

Besides, if it had actually been a Flame Alloy then it wouldn't be damaged. Those things were ridiculously indestructible. When the Vongola Rings had shattered it had been the bands breaking, not the foci.

Finishing his sketch, Xanxus slid his fingers along the faint carved lines where seams should have been. If he was right, then this would work…keeping his mind open and focusing intently how there should be seams there, he probed those narrow cracks with his Flames.

If he'd not been paying close attention he would have missed the change as the outer plating responded to his certainty, as a good Real Illusion did when confronted with somebody experiencing mild doubt and seeking clarification. The original creator might not have been aware of all the fine details, but when facing somebody who did know those things a well-made Creation would scavenge that information and use it to bolster its realism.

Dismantling the Box Weapon down the newly-created seams, Xanxus set three of the plates aside on his anvil and turned it this way and that under the light, deliberately closing his mind to the continued soft probing from the Box Weapon.

"The problem with your Box Weapon," he said, turning to Springer, "is that it's made of Flames and wishful thinking. You got these in the fake-future, which was essentially a very well-made Territory; the thing about Territories is that everything in them is made of Mist Flames. Frequently reinforced with other Flame-types if it's a collaborative effort –those feel far more real– but still a Mist construct. So this," he poked the Box Weapon, "is made of Mist Flames and only physically exists because Talbot bonded it to your Vongola Ring, which since the ring accesses the Tri-Ni-Set meant it could reinforce the Box Weapon's existence with your Flames and anchor it by reminding it what it was supposed to look like and do. Except that you left your Vongola Ring behind, so three weeks on your Box Weapon is degrading like any other poorly-maintained illusion."

Turning away from the shock and hurt on Springer's face and the disbelief on Chew Toy's –Kalk seemed far less surprised, interestingly– Xanxus set the fake down on his anvil, stepped back and used his Sky Flames to gently and firmly inform it of its non-existence.

It promptly popped like a soap bubble along with the removed external plates, leaving a fading wisp of Rain and Mist behind it.

"There you go."

Springer got up and walked over, staring at the empty space with bereavement running through his Flames. "So Jirō's not real either," he said softly.

"Sorry," Xanxus managed, recognising belatedly that this was a moment when sympathy was called for.

"Not your fault Boss; you didn't do it," Springer said with a fake smile.

"No reason why I can't replace them," Xanxus pointed out, "Although they wouldn't be exactly the same, of course." Even Bester wasn't exactly the same and he was the same animal, but he liked the new Bester more anyway; he was more authentically liger-like than the animal in Xanxus's false memories.

"I'll think about it," Springer said quietly.

"Natsu isn't real?" Chew Toy whined, sounding completely devastated.

Xanxus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, abruptly sympathising with the shark's 'why am I surrounded by idiots' tirades. "Chew Toy, your mini-lion was the most blatantly fake of the lot and I never once believed it had ever been a real animal. Go cuddle with the cats for a few hours and you'll see what real feline behaviour looks like. We've even got a few lion hybrids, so you can check how completely un-lion-like yours was; it didn't even look right. Have you never seen a real lion cub? Your thing looked like a cartoon drawn by somebody who'd only ever seen pictures of adult lions and assumed that a cub would be a chibi version! The first time I saw it I thought it was one of those Chinese lion dogs wearing fake cat ears!" A Pekingese or something, whatever they were called.

The younger Sky made a feeble squeaky noise that completely justified his nickname.

"Ever decide you want a replacement, find me," Xanxus finished, making an effort to control his tone; he was tired of this shit and wanted to go snuggle with his Cloud for a few hours. Solving the mystery had been fun but untangling messy emotional aftermath was not at all his cup of tea. "Now scram."

The trash scrammed; Mahi murmured thanks for his time before striding out after them. Xanxus picked up the sketch and got his own designs out; he could do a compare and contrast while he was keeping his Cloud company.

Oh, and he should make that pot of tea; he was thirsty and Florrie would be too.

"Squalo, I thought you might like to hear the results of the magistrate trials that Don Vongola's Cloud and his associates experienced at the end of last month. Seeing as you won't be getting the news where you are."

Squalo couldn't help the grin splitting his face as he remembered Xanxus's retelling of that incident. "So tell me then."

"The minimum sentence was for the driver who was local and had no guns found in his car; he was fined five hundred pounds for obstructing a public right of way, a further five thousand pounds for having a knife on his person, and an additional fifteen hundred pound fine as accessory to aggravated trespass."

"Seven thousand pounds total then." Squalo was impressed; that wasn't chickenfeed. And that was the minimum sentence?

"The next least serious was the young man fined five thousand pounds and sentenced to six months in jail for possession of a blade in a public place, with an extra two thousand pound fine as accessory to aggravated trespass and a further four thousand pound fine for possession of false documentation. He's been extradited and is quietly sitting out his sentence in an Italian jail. The eleven thousand pound fine has been arranged by his extended family, with the Vongola supplying two-thirds of it in reparation."

That made sense when knife-guy had been arrested while under Visconti's authority.

"Third was another local; possession of a firearm without a certificate, carrying a firearm in a public place, aggravated trespass and common assault. Total potential sentence of seventeen years and nine months; he pled guilty, admitted freely that he'd been uncomfortable with what he was doing and got a reduced sentence of ten years and an eight thousand pound fine. He's Underworld, so he'll be networking locally in jail and doing his best to avoid ever being arrested for anything again afterwards, as he only just managed to avoid organised crime charges."

That would be the smart redhead then.

"Forth was the driver of the other car; possession of firearms without a certificate, carrying a firearm in a public place, possession of a shotgun without a certificate, accessory to aggravated trespass, obstructing a public right of way and possession of false identity documents; maximum sentence of twenty-eight years and three months. He got fifteen years and a ten thousand pound fine; he's not been extradited yet, but the Italian government's going to want that done so they have him where they can see him, since it's got out now that this is somehow Vongola-related even though they weren't really able to get organised crime offences to stick, since in the United Kingdom most of the organised crime charges relate to money laundering."

"Voi, were they Stupid, carrying guns around in the UK?" Squalo demanded. "It's not like the police are armed there and the laws are incredibly strict."

"A very valid question," the cat agreed dryly. "Anyway I can hear you getting bored already, so: the remaining three underlings were all convicted of firearm charges, aggravated trespass, common assault and possession of false identity documents; the police were incredibly thorough there and picked up on all the false names being used. One of them got an additional knife charge, so it ended up being two getting fifteen years and a twelve thousand pound fine and the third getting the same time and a fifteen thousand pound fine."

"And Visconti?"

"Charged with absolutely everything bar the traffic charge, with additional incitement, importation of firearms and possession of criminal property charges –the Vongola Ring– but given his age, the magistrate settled on a reduced sentence and a higher fine. He will be sitting in jail for a mere eight years and has to pay a whopping fifty thousand pound fine; extradition has not been offered, but again the Italian government is likely to try due to the Vongola Ring currently sitting in an evidence box somewhere." Not for much longer though, Squalo would put money on it; Don Vongola would want that back and substituting with a fake would be fairly easy for even a barely competent Mist.

"How's Don Vongola taking things?"

"Badly," Pantera said dryly, "although I believe a convincing body double will soon be substituted for the Cloud Guardian, since the real names of most of those involved were not determined. Gossip however suggests that his time in custody awaiting trial has not been good for Visconti's health, so he is unlikely to return to his usual duties upon returning and will have to be very careful not to leave his fingerprints on anything in future, since they are now on file with Interpol."

There were people who just left their fingerprints lying about? How was that professional? "Any more scurrilous gossip you'd like to share?" Squalo drawled, leaning back in his chair.

"It was revealed to the Alliance yesterday that Gokudera Hayato had died on the third of June of kidney failure–"

"Voooi, fucking what?!" Squalo nearly fell off his chair entirely.

"–and the autopsy determined the damage to be due to long-term exposure to Poison Cooking, exacerbated by his chain-smoking and poor eating habits; the smoking on its own wouldn't have been so terrible just yet but exposure to Poison Cooking fumes and making his own bombs had scarred his lungs extensively, depriving his body of oxygen and further stressing his systems. The examiners said they'd never seen such advanced COPD in someone so young. His sister promptly had a very public breakdown, irreversibly contaminated all foodstuffs and plants within a twenty-metre radius and then turned her Flames on her own internal organs, liquefying them; she was dead minutes later," kitty finished, "but not before leading Vongola Housekeeping and Security on a merry chase all over the Iron Fort, seriously poisoning over one hundred people and forcing Medical to close entirely as they destroy and replace all their contaminated stock. Housekeeping are also destroying all the foodstuffs in the building, including tinned produce in long-term storage and the entire wine cellar, which will be exceedingly costly to replace."

That was dramatic, oddly karmic and no doubt horrendously traumatising for victims, bystanders and everybody else being peripherally affected by the escalating disaster; clearly Bel had been involved somehow. This kind of messy and exponentially expanding chaos was his signature; the occasional incidents of 'blood everywhere' were just a means to the ultimate end. The timing was almost right for Bel to have precipitated this, as though smuggling Springer, Kalk and Chew Toy out of the country hadn't been dramatic enough; there were poisons that could precipitate kidney failure then break down and metabolise out before the long-term effects kicked in, so clearly Prince the Ripper had been planning this for a while and helping the brats escape had been a crime of opportunity on the side rather than the main event. "Voi, that sounds intensely unpleasant."

"I envy you for being so far away from it all," his cousin agreed tiredly. "Don Bianchi is inconsolable at the loss of his two eldest children, regardless of the continued estrangement from his mistress's son. He is organising both funerals, since Tsunayoshi is still missing and it was finally revealed last week that he left the Vongola Sky Ring behind. With both Hands missing alongside him, one Guardian dead and the only other one in the country being underage, Don Vongola is recalling the other Rings and has announced that he will be selecting another Heir during Quiet Week." A sigh. "Five-year-old Agata Bianchi reportedly had a screaming tantrum when she was told both her beloved big sister and the brother she'd never met were dead. Mattia is only recently two, so he won't even remember he had additional older siblings."

Cat cared because he had a daughter, was expecting another child and could see himself all too well in Don Bianchi, regardless of the dramatic difference in levels of intelligence and good sense.

"Shit happens and people die," Squalo said shortly, reminded again of his older brother's senseless death. "So there'll be a new Decimo by the end of next week." About time, seeing as it was a month since Chew Toy had run for the hills. "Anybody found Iemitsu yet?" Alive or otherwise.

"No; Nono also announced that if Sawada was still missing by the first day of Quiet Week he would be removing the man from the External Advisor position for gross negligence of his duties –which is allowed after a three month absence without prior warning or any form of communication– and investing a new one after Quiet Week is over." Kitty hummed over the phone, the sound almost a purr. "The Superbi will be bringing their grievances to his attention on the first day of Quiet Week, as it happens, so no doubt there will be a lot going on."

"Let me know how that goes, voi." It was bound to be entertaining; maybe Don Vongola would manage to have a heart attack?

"I will do; talk to you later, cousin."

"Bye." Squalo hung up, pocketed his phone and went looking for Bel. He just had to hear the details of this. Bel was likely to be happy to brag in exchange for news of how things had unfolded in the aftermath.

Xanxus had just finished eating a late lunch and was clearing the table –Florrie was helping– when his phone rang. Fishing it out –why was kitty-cat calling him?– he answered:

"Kitty."

"Coguaro, I need you to be official for a moment," his cousin said, voice brisk with all the notes that indicated he was mid-flow and commanding several other people's attention. "You've been named as executor for the Vongola Rings and estates until the Heir is, and I quote, 'of legal age and demonstrating the necessary aptitude to administer them responsibly' and need to either come back to Sicily post-haste or name a proxy."

Did this mean that– "What?" he demanded reflexively, setting his plate down and walking out of the kitchen towards his workshop, veiling himself lightly so his Cloud couldn't overhear.

"Don Vongola is dead," was Pantera's blunt reply, "the Vongola has no Heir and according to Legal you're the only person authorised to sign off on anything. I've got the requisite quorum for recognising a legal proxy here with me, but you need to make a nomination immediately and then put a Flame seal on the appropriate papers as soon as possible; I will happily pay for the necessary expedited Mist-delivery."

The old fart was dead? Seriously? He was dead and he'd named Xanxus in his will as executor of the estates until Chew Toy –or whoever was replacing him– was of age and considered competent? Fucking seriously?

"Xanxus Coguaro Superbi-Cavallone, are you still there?"

"Still here," he acknowledged, leaning against the nearest wall. "Fuck. Right. Put me on speaker." There were formalities to deal with for the wellbeing of the majority, and then after that was addressed he could ask his questions.

There was a click; "You're on speaker, Xanxus."

"I, Xanxus Coguaro Cavallone of the Superbi Family" –since he was speaking as an Alliance member right now– "do nominate Pantera Superbi as my legal proxy in matters pertaining to the Vongola Rings and estates, and confirm that in these matters his signature and Flames are as mine. He has my full confidence." There wasn't anybody else over there right now he cared to nominate and the cat was more than competent.

There was a short silence. "Xanxus, I'm already Don Superbi as of this morning," Pantera said flatly. "My father got back from a meeting run long last night and declared he was done with politics and they were my problem now."

"So the Superbi are leading the Alliance now." Xanxus really did not give a single shit. "Maybe things will actually work properly for once rather than limping along on nepotism, brown-nosing and bribery."

There was a flurry of coughs and throat-clearing; yes, he knew perfectly well he was still on speaker. They all deserved it for not giving the old fart the boot well before he finally pegged it.

"Noted," his cousin said, tone light but fierce calculation and multiple lines of thought audible beneath the humour. "Any objections to Xanxus's nomination?" A brief silence. "No? Good. Let's get things moving then. Cousin, I'll call you back." He hung up.

Xanxus blinked briefly at his phone, pocketed it and trudged dazedly back into the kitchen, where Florrie was washing up. This wasn't at all how he'd expected today to go.

He should probably talk to Chew Toy about this, but honestly it could wait until kitty called him back and gave him more details.

Fuck, why had the old fart left governance of the Vongola to him?!

"Voi, so what happened then?"

A sigh erupted from the speaker on Xanxus's phone, which was propped up on the coffee table so everybody could hear. They'd all congregated in their Sky's living room; Squalo had claimed one of the armchairs, Luss had the other, Bel and Mammon were sprawled on the floor and Xanxus was on his couch with Florrie, her in his lap and Bester's upper body draped over her lap. Quiet Week was now over and all of the ex-Varia were itching with curiosity about what exactly had happened, although Florrie had made it clear she wouldn't be asking any questions during the call, since she wanted to stay out of 'crime stuff' as much as possible.

"I take it you're all aware of Iemitsu's disappearance, Tsunayoshi's abdication, Visconti's prison sentence and fine and Hayato Gokudera's unfortunate demise, followed by his sister's breakdown?" Pantera asked rhetorically. "Well as I'm sure you can imagine, Don Vongola was under considerable pressure to respond appropriately to all these issues, although various Dons' perception of what counts as 'appropriate' differs significantly."

Of course it would; they all had their own agendas. Squalo rolled his eyes.

"Then on the Monday of Quiet Week my father took a large Family delegation to the Iron Fort to inform Don Vongola that his choices and actions over the past year had repeatedly broken the Vongola-Superbi alliance treaty and that his failure to address those issues and make appropriate reparations to the injured parties before the year was out meant that the Superbi were withdrawing from the Alliance until such reparations were made. At which point the Family would be open to negotiations on a new treaty. That discussion lasted from three in the afternoon until eleven at night, nothing was resolved and upon getting back Don Leone informed me of his retirement, effective immediately."

Bel snickered; Squalo agreed, that was funny and entirely in character for his uncle.

"I therefore led the delegation to the Iron Fort the following morning at nine as Don Superbi, where I was shown into the negotiation room and served drinks but then no-one else came in for a full half hour. Then Ganache walked in, apologised for the delay and bluntly informed me that Coyote had had a heart attack yesterday evening during negotiations –which neither I nor the other members of my party had been aware of– and had been recovering in Medical, but that Don Vongola had a stroke in his bed during the night and died, and the backlash of the bond breaking had caused Coyote's death in the early hours of the morning. Medical had of course done all they could, but it was Coyote's abrupt decline that alerted them to Nono Vongola's condition, by which point there was nothing they could do."

So Don Vongola had been under considerable stress, as had his Right Hand, the Right Hand had succumbed which increased the pressure and strain on Don Vongola, who had also succumbed but at a point when help was not immediately on hand. Unfortunate but natural and rather predictable; if Nono had been more conscious of his own mortality he might have slept with a Medical team on standby in a nearby room. Expensive and a touch intrusive, but an ounce of prevention might have made all the difference.

That was all in the past now though.

"With Don Vongola declared dead, his Right Hand also dead, his Left Hand recently retired for medical reasons and no Heir forthcoming, I stepped in to divert the building panic and suggested Legal be contacted, as Timoteo Vongola was bound to have made a Will," Pantera continued briskly, "the basics of which you are already aware of."

"He made Xanxus executor," Squalo stated flatly; it was the height of irony, it really was, considering what Chew Toy had done to get away and where he currently was. Never mind what Timoteo Vongola had done to Xanxus himself.

"Essentially," the cat agreed. "The External Advisor is traditionally one of the witnesses of a Vongola Will, so he cannot be left any bequest or responsibilities, and it was clearly stated that Nono Vongola 'has never been given reason to doubt Xanxus's devotion to the Vongola ideal and the people under the Family's protection.' Your public nomination of me as your proxy was most unexpected, Coguaro, but it did enable me to ensure the usual Quiet Week matters could be dealt with smoothly." He huffed. "A few people were less than pleased to have the Superbi heading the Vongola, but they subsided when it was pointed out that their only alternative was to ask you to reconsider your decision."

"Long term plans?" Xanxus asked.

"I don't suppose you can be persuaded to return, cousin?"

"No."

"Well I had to ask," kitty continued smoothly, no doubt having expected that response. "I have replaced a lot of underbosses and representatives this week and there are still a lot of issues up in the air, but I believe things will settle. Ganache did at least manage to recover the full set of Vongola Rings from Tsunayoshi's remaining Guardians; Talbot showed up a few days ago and returned them to their original state, so they're neatly boxed up awaiting the next Heir. So what are you planning on doing next, oh Vongola executor?"

Over on the couch Xanxus rested his chin on Florrie's shoulder, arms wrapped snugly around her waist. "Won't be coming over until September at the earliest," he said firmly, "and will meet the various candidates for Don Vongola then; the Rings are important after all. No reason that Don Vongola needs to lead the Alliance though; you've got the aptitude and the training. Got the connections and support too."

"Coguaro, are you just dumping this in my lap?"

"Yes," Xanxus said shamelessly over Bel's gleeful sniggering. "Have fun. Start by separating out the private Vongola inheritances and bequests from the Alliance ones; the old fart never did manage to untangle private from public and clarifying what belongs to Don Vongola and what he simply administers on the Alliance's behalf will make it easier to pin down what the eventual Vongola Heir is actually going to own."

"That will keep people busy and convince the other Dons of goodwill," Pantera mused, "as well as implying that they might be able to increase their respective Families' influence." Not that kitty would actually let that happen, but it was a handy illusion as he got his people in place and really settled in for the long haul. "Might I hire a few of your delightfully discreet professionals, cousin? The more I dig into the files the more situations I find that would benefit from a spot of judicious pruning. Or even just judicious terrorising; so much prejudiced complacency, it's appalling."

"Feel free," Xanxus agreed, visibly and audibly amused. "Want quick local accidents or ominous near-misses, contact the Ferri in Cavallone territory near Palermo; they have retired Varia on contract. Want something more dramatic and messy, the Ferri have the fax and email for the Servizio Sfoltimenti my Storm is overseeing."

A thoughtful hum came through the phone's speaker. "Xanxus, might you have seen Tsunayoshi and his Hands since you left the country?"

"Seen them," the Sky agreed mildly.

"Do you know where they are now?"

"No." Because of course they could be anywhere on the island; Xanxus couldn't say for sure.

"Do you know who would know?"

"Yes." Tyrant would, of course.

"Well if you would, please pass it on that their respective non-Vongola relatives are in good health and that Bouche is currently arranging a wide-ranging Perception Alteration involving body doubles so that Underworld attention will be diverted elsewhere," Pantera said mildly, "and that he has put money on Kyōya Hibari locating the 'truant small animal' before the end of October."

Passing that on would reassure Springer, who was very conscious of the risks to his father, while making Chew Toy squeak loudly at the prospect of being ambushed by an irate Cloud. Which reminded Squalo: where was Reborn in all this? He'd clearly not been in Sicily when Chew Toy made his escape. Taking hits again possibly?

"That said, I have every intention of getting this straightened out before Immacolata makes me a father again," cat said, steel in his tone, "so I look forward to seeing you in September."

"If you've got matters untangled by then."

"Oh I will do, Coguaro," the cat said ominously, "watch me." He hung up.

"So now what, Boss-honey?" Luss asked.

Their Sky shrugged one shoulder. "So nothing. We do what we want; kitty can run the Alliance. Will see about picking an Heir the Rings like –probably be better off making the Vongola Rings contingent on being External Advisor; that provides more leeway for idealism and campaigning for actual change with fewer risks and costs to consider– then leave them to it. Like what I'm building here."

"So we stay here," Squalo concluded. He should probably mention the possibility of the former Sun Arcobaleno hunting his ex-student down to Tyrant; Chew Toy was the Head of Housekeeping's personal Apprentice after all, so Tyrant could respond to assaults by third parties on the younger Sky as lethally as he wished.

"For now," Xanxus agreed. "Probably move elsewhere once the Alliance has settled and we find a decent property with room for the cats."

Yeah, that sounded good. It'd be nice to be able to finally put down roots somewhere; for now though, Mafia Land was fine. Squalo was enjoying the challenge and novelty of what they were building here and clearly Xanxus was too.

"Xanxus?"

The Sky looked down at Florrie. "Hm?"

"If you have the rings, are actually blood-related through your father and the late Don has officially placed the Vongola in your care until you select an Heir, does that mean you are Decimo?"

Bel rolled on his back cackling like a loon; Squalo had to smother a snort. Xanxus's face was a picture. He hoped Mammon had a camera on them to immortalise the moment forever.

"Fuck," the Sky said eventually, tone utterly bemused. "Maybe?"

"Well at least Squ-chan will be able to get a haircut now if he wants one," Luss commented, smile bright.

Yeah, that was something. This was not at all how he'd expected things to go when he'd made that promise twelve years back though!