The first of the former Arcobaleno to die, barring Skull, was Verde. He lived a long, fulfilling life, doing experiments and publishing scientific papers, until he was downed by an explosion of his own doing. Verde was well sought after as a scientist, and his work only became more and more outrageous and unfeasible to the plebeian mind as the years went by.

Verde knew the dangers as well as any innovative inventor, so death via a mistake in the lab was not something out of the parameters of his postulations. He died doing what he loved, and nothing was more acceptable than that.

So when Verde opened his eyes once more, after the blinding light and pain shook off from his body, and saw himself lying on the floor of his laboratory, his only word was a thoughtful "huh".

Then he kneeled to study his deceased form.

There was a chuckle behind him. "Hah, I knew that would be your reaction," a painfully familiar voice said, smug.

Verde turned, and though his eyes were green, and hair black, Verde recognised that facial structure and posture anywhere. "Skull," he said. There was something warm in his tones, hidden well beneath his blunt greeting that no one but family would've been able to pick up on. It was good thing family was what Skull was.

"Verde. So, uh, sorry to tell you, but you're dead," Skull said, trying to be professional.

There was a deadpan. "Clearly."

"…right," Skull muttered. Then he pulled a hesitant smile on his face, "Not surprised to see me?"

Verde pushed up his glasses and crossed his arms, rising back up to his feet. "When your body disappeared, it was appropriate to hypothesise you had truly become this 'Master of Death'. Since Death, as portrayed in the 'The Tale of the Three Brothers', is understood as a physical being as opposed to a concept, it is fair to assume you, as the Master of Death, share similar traits – one being the ability to become concealed from human eyes. Though I could not assert if your failure to reappear before us once more was due to a refresh in your memories, an incapability to show your form, or some irrational emotion of guilt or whatnot."

"Right, genius," Skull said absentmindedly, drawn to his memories.

He remembered that night he opened his eyes inside of a coffin. He'd pushed the lid in panic when he realised where he was, only for his hands to faze through. He'd slipped through completely, to be faced with the being he'd known as Death, so much clearer, both visually and audibly, than it'd been in his former dreams.

His coffin hadn't been buried just quite yet, still in the middle of being transported out to his gravesite. It'd been a surprise for the hired men to suddenly realise the coffin was lighter than it should be, and when given the permission to open it up, realise the body within was missing.

Not that Skull knew until later on, when Death told him, but his family all made immediate plans to convene by his empty coffin. At the time, Skull had already been whisked away by Death to learn of his tasks as the Master of Death.

Though throughout the years, he saw his family, in the invisible, intangible state that was now natural to him, and somehow he couldn't bring himself to console them when he would only disappear from their lives once more as he took on his duties. They were no longer part of the same world.

(or maybe that was just a lie he fed himself because he couldn't bear if they started treating him differently.)

Skull averted his eyes from the scientist. "You didn't have to word the third point like that," he said in a mumble.

"An idiot as ever," Verde sighed, to Skull's more-or-less admission.

Skull smiled at the unsaid words. "I missed you too."

x

Mammon's death, despite their relatively young physical age, was completely natural. Their esper ability was unnatural to the human body and corrode it down little by little until their natural lifespan was shorter than average. Had Mammon been a wizard or witch, that would've been a different story – magical beings were sturdier than muggles or squibs, built to support the magic coursing through their veins.

Sadly, the mutation had skipped Mammon's generation.

But with their information network, Mammon was well aware of the facts, so the early death hadn't been a surprise. Mammon had already planned for the future well before death took them.

When Mammon's soul separated from their physical body one uneventful evening, Mammon lamented for their piles of unused cash, before settling down to wait.

It wasn't long before Skull appeared, looking young as ever, bearing the face recognisable by the Wizarding World. "Mammon!" he cried, looking crossed between joyful to see them, and depressed at their death.

Mammon turned towards him. "You still owe me money," they said without any preamble.

Skull froze, running a hand through his unruly black hair sheepishly. "Ah ha ha, you still remember that?"

"Death does not excuse your debt."

"But I don't have any cash on me," Skull whined, never mind the fact it was now useless to the Mist.

Mammon tilted their head, bearing their unrelenting gaze onto the Master of Death in silence. Eventually they huffed, conceding with a, "I'll release your debt. Just once. Next time I'll double it," in a gruff manner despite their affectionate words.

"Thanks Mammon!" Skull grinned, because he knew they were a softy inside.

Skull had gotten the memories from Death, since he hadn't been conscious for it. When the World's Strongest found him when his mortal body finally gave out, Mammon had been the one to take charge. They'd used their time and money to arrange for the coffin and funeral, without their usual grumbling.

They'd finished everything in a timely manner, but then waited and waited in hopeful silence that drew out the wake until it had been inevitable, just in the small hope Skull would open his eyes once more.

They'd paid for that extra time when they hadn't needed to. That itself was telling enough.

Skull's grin softened into an earnest smile, warm and loving.

"So, out of curiosity," Skull said, showing that childish and cheeky attitude they'd always, and forever onwards, related him with, "can I finally see your face now?"

There was a pause as Mammon regarded the question, before they flipped down their hood for one last time.

x

It was an open secret that most expected Reborn to be amongst the first of them to die. The man was fierce and headstrong, and the danger levels of his missions were top tier. He was the world's greatest hitman for a reason, and that title alone already brought on its share of threats.

Perhaps becoming the unofficial advisor to his student, the Vongola Decimo, mellowed him out a bit over the years.

Reborn hadn't died on a solo mission, instead from protecting one of his student's Guardians. His final hours had been in pain, not that he showed it on his face, but also surrounded by people who care immensely and unconditionally for him.

Years ago, Renato Sinclair would have never expected a departure quite so loving – perhaps one with scornful delight as his enemies crowed as his surrender of his title – but now it was a normal thing and Reborn expected nothing else.

"You've done well, Dame-Tsuna," Reborn had said fondly for one final time, before his last breath cross his lips.

Then the pain was gone.

Reborn blinked as a hovering spirit while time slipped seamlessly away. Then, he turned sharply. "Harry Potter," he said, to the man who suddenly appeared. 'Harry Potter', because 'Skull' was the rambunctious stuntman who did things his pace, who called himself immortal, and too self-less for his own good.

Though Harry Potter was not someone entirely different, he encompassed traits that did not belong to the Skull they knew, was still family, but was also something grander than that that they could not comprehend no matter how hard they tried.

Reborn, who had reconstructed himself much like what Skull had done, realised the subtle difference between the two identities.

"Which name should I call you by?" Skull wondered.

Reborn only stared flatly, fingers twitching, and Skull chuckled nervously back. "Ah, of course. Senpai."

"You thought you could escape from me, Lackey?" Reborn growled, as though he hadn't spent the weeks after Skull's death hidden away to research the Deathly Hollows.

Reborn had listened to Verde's postulations with a stoic face with the rest of the family, but when he left, he'd snuck into the Wizarding World, as he had done since Skull introduced it to them. He'd already done work uncovering stories of the Boy-Who-Lived, and there may or may not have been a sharp decline of stray Death Eater fugitives or activists who managed to evade the system, still. Gathering information on the Tales of the Three Brothers was a harder objective since many only assumed the work as mere fictional fables.

But Reborn had persevered regardless, because Skull was family, and who was to say nothing went wrong, especially since he disappeared completely without a hint otherwise.

Skull hadn't meant for him to worry.

"I didn't want to get shot," Skull said defiantly.

"Wrong answer," Reborn replied, pulling out his gun. He aimed it at Skull's head, and the Master of Death jumped and scrambled away, screeching, but grin on his face all the while.

Reborn pulled the trigger. There was a bang and a bullet that left no mark in the spiritual world, not that Reborn had actually locked on his target to begin with. And though the shot did nothing, Skull yelped regardless, because he could.

"I'm sorry, Senpai! Don't shoot!" he cried, running away.

Behind him, the tense strain on Reborn's shoulders, there since Skull's death, quickly melted away.

x

Fon's death was much like his life, calm and peaceful, in his whirlwind world of Mafia and the Chinese Triad. He died in his sleep, in the best way one could hope for – painlessly and without regrets.

Fon lived a long, prosperous life. He was able to see the solitude animal that was his nephew, slowly open up until he was surrounded by people who loved him for who he was. He was able to see his apprentice, though no longer interested in Martial Arts, grow up to create a family of her own, child on the way.

When he slipped out from his physical body, Fon jolted awake in surprise. It took him a second before he understood what happened, and then he gave a deep bow to his mortal body for supporting him all these years.

"Hi Fon," Skull said when he arrived.

The Storm straightened up and glanced over the Master of Death. Skull squirmed but held still, knowing the man wanted to assure himself he wasn't harmed in anyway during his transition into his new role.

At last, Fon relaxed, a gentle smile gracing his face. "Skull," he greeted, "I am pleased you are well."

Skull rubbed the back of his head. "I'm sorry I just disappeared."

The look Fon offered was full of understanding, and perhaps he did, because this was a man who carved his own way through life, dabbling in both the Triad and the Mafia even when it was a general consensus that the two parties always butted heads. "You had your reasons. Perhaps not sound ones, but they were what you thought was best."

Skull nodded, gratified to know someone as kind as Fon.

Skull had honestly made no arrangements for his eventual death, trying to postpone, trying his damnest to avoid thinking of the thing altogether. It was Fon who argued for Skull's body to be returned to his native soil, buried with his parents in Godric's Hollow. Though they'd all wished in their hearts that Skull remained with them, Family was still different from family.

But then Skull's body disappeared. Unusual as it was, Fon still insisted to bury the empty coffin. Perhaps he hoped it was an object for Skull to tie his spirit to, that if he ever truly died, he would finally be able to join his family. It hadn't been hard to open up to Fon, who was always there to quietly lend an ear to listen to Harry's fondest desires and wishes since childhood.

Skull was touched by his actions that only showed how earnestly Fon heeded his tales.

"Thank you," Skull said to the Storm, seemingly out of nowhere. But his eyes expressed how deeply he wanted to convey those words, and Fon understood his message.

x

Lal and Colonnello died of old age, one following just behind the other, much like how it'd always been in life.

No one ever doubted their strong relationship with each other, so it was never a surprise when the two wedded. Their younger years were spent supporting the Vongola Decimo, and later years in a retirement that still included numerous visits to their favourite Japanese Don.

When their two souls finally left the mortal plane, Lal and Colonnello shared a glance, to see their young, spry faces looking back at each other instead of the wrinkly old skin they were used to.

"Well, that's unexpected," Lal murmured, as Colonnello held her tight.

"Is this a bad time?" Skull asked sauntering towards their embraced forms.

The two turned sharply. "Skull!" they called out, sounding awfully wrathful.

Skull rocked on his heels, scrubbing a hand through raven locks. "Is that a 'yes'?" he asked innocently.

Lal broke from her husband's hold, all but storming to their lost Cloud. "You left us without a word!" she reprimanded, because no matter how many years went by, that was something she'd never forgotten. Her accusing finger jabbed his chest.

Skull looked away, unable to deny her words.

Those few hours before his mortal life was over, when Death finally decided it was time for him to claim ownership over his title at last, Skull had been given a courtesy warning. Instead of informing his Family, Skull had shuffled indecisively through the Vongola halls, before sneaking away to die alone.

He hadn't wanted to see his Family mourning over the inevitable. He didn't want them to see him breathe his last breath and feel helpless, because helpless was the last thing these wonderful people should ever be. He didn't want them to ache throughout that long hour, plague with anxiety and thoughts of should-have's and shouldn't-have's.

It didn't take long for them to realise Skull was missing.

It'd been Colonnello who'd found him first.

They'd all seen him 'die' before - shot in the head, stabbed in the chest, crushed by his own crazy stunts - but the injuries never stuck. After much horror and confusion, they'd tentatively stopped overreacting to supposedly lethal occurrences because Skull always opened his eyes and walked it off like a minor scrap of his knees.

Except this time Colonnelle stumbled over their most dreaded outcome; Skull's cold, unresponsive corpse. He'd freaked out, alerting all the ex-Arcobeleno, Vongola, and then some. Skull never meant for that to happen.

"What are you, a cat, kora?" Colonnello accused, finally able to express his complaint after all these years.

Lal elbowed her husband not so discreetly, though Skull had a feeling she wasn't bothering to hide it at all, because it was a fair comparison considering he did disappear on them when he knew he was about to die.

"I didn't want you all to worry," Skull said quietly, truthfully.

"But we still did," Lal corrected him. "We always will."

Skull dropped his head into a nod, a warm feeling washing over him. He knew they did, truthfully, despite that small sliver of doubt in the back of his head. It wasn't his fault his early childhood under the Dursley household as Harry Potter conditioned his constant reservations. Some habits were hard to change.

Lal's eyes softened. With an unspoken agreement, she and Colonnello suddenly leaned forwards and pulled Skull into their arms.

"We're family," Colonnello declared. "Even after death."

"Always," Lal swore, like a promise to uphold the whole world.

a/n: And that's the end. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, faved, and followed!

I said it wasn't going to be long, but really, 17k is on the wordier side of most my fics haha.