It was so fun writing this chapter. I should do snap-stories more often. XD =))

It was a sensation that Xanxus knew all too well to be mistaken for anything else. He was surprised to find Sawada reacting at first, but then one look was all it took, and the rest was just effortless. Oh, you little twerp, I'll pick my teeth with the remains of your bones.

"Is that all you fucking got?"

Nobody could assuage the lions now. Woe was to the keeper who thought he could train them into hiding their fangs.

The adopted son smirked grimly at the future Don. The boy might be The Tenth, but he was no Don yet. If it couldn't be helped, then the best next thing would be to delay it. And no Don would ever appear before the tribunal heads of allied families with a sling.

Burn me, you little shit.

Xanxus felt the heat before seeing the fire, and in murderous rage, he spiraled towards his most hated adversary with every intention of making him suffer a most painful, shameful death. Tsunayoshi Sawada met him mid-air, and below them the tremulous spectators skidded and went, none knowing how to constrain the transpiring battle above.

But civilians would remain civilians, and the yuletide season would always give way to make such matters trivial for the ignorant.

The wayward and the noble launched towards the exploding sun. And beneath the winter blue skies, waited for the promises of ashes.

Haru Miura saw them glowing from her bedroom window.

The moment was very brief, but it was all she needed to see. She ran through the corridors, and wished there were fewer staircases.

Hers was an esoteric grief that prompted tears because she ought to cry, and not because she couldn't help it. Her eyes were puffed and red. Her body was shaking and exhausted. It was mourning out of duty, not out of affection, not out of love. The short time she had spent with the Don was warm at best, and sadly, that was all it was. Her sadness over the loss was dwarfed by the fear of what would come next.

Where was she going? Could she really do anything about Tsuna?

No, she couldn't. Those steel eyes would not deem her significant enough.

If not Tsuna—then…

Her consciousness laughed at her. Oh, my child. Xanxus? Don't kid yourself.

If it was a choice between two extremes, then it wasn't a choice.

The railings were close by. Just one more staircase.

Then again, was she not part of Midori's elite gymnastics team?

Haru Miura didn't think much of it. Over-thinking dampened courage. So she just did. Her hands anchored on the bronze rails. Her arms jerking her body forward. Her feet ready and set.

It was all too polished.

Too perfect.

And because of that, her right ankle twitched mid-air, and the mademoiselle tumbled down to the dusted floors of the Manor's main parlor. Right across a twelve-foot window, she was sprawled. Too vivid was the blaze and fire she saw through that transparent glass, she could almost feel it scorching through her skin.

She was stuck in trance before someone cooed her back to reality. Verde placed her on the sofa, and laughed when she answered his inquiries on how she got there with a mere, 'I fell.'

"Pun intended, I suppose?"

Perhaps, he said a few more things. Things Haru probably never heard, much less remembered. She was too taken by the sight outside, too hypnotized by the inferno playing before her to heed anything else.

She felt a light kiss on her right cheek.

"Alright missy. I'll play with your friends," Verde said before disappearing behind the great dual doors which Haru Miura gradually associated with the Vongola. Closed doors were a recurring theme in the family. Behind it, there was always a surprise. People who walk out weren't exactly the same people who went in.

Colonello could never really get the man.

Verde was unconscious, bandaged, bruised, but breathing nonetheless. Koenig invited the soldier to take a seat, all while saying his utmost thanks for recovering his friend.

"He's not the easiest man to save."

Colonello nodded, understanding what the professor meant by this.

"How are the kids?"

"They passed out," the soldier hesitated. "The sedatives were too strong."

"It was probably intentional," Koenig replied. "You're like Verde, right?"

Colonello chuckled dryly. He'd like to say he wasn't. That no, Verde and him were very different people. They weren't even close. Yet he was a former arcobaleno. Very much like Verde. This was a truth Colonello couldn't deny.

"In four hours, I'm going to shrink down to a five year old."

"I see." Koenig stared at him for a while. "You want to stay the way you are now?"

"I just want to have my old life back," though Colonello said it lightly, the truth in it was much more than the soldier liked to admit.

"I don't think I can help with that...how do transform yourself to this?"

"Oh, they blast us with a modified bazooka, and—"Oh, why was he even bother? "It's a toy."

"It's quite an amazing toy."

"It is."

"Verde has this self-prescribed medication," Koenig said. "The effect is longer he says."

"Verde's methods had always been..."

"Unorthodox?"

"Sort of."

"I feel your loss in The Ninth."

For a second, Colonello thought himself incapable of speech. Eventually though, he was able to compose himself, and when he did, he was quick to say his courtesies. Yes, thank you for all your concern, most especially your help. No, I can't drink but thank you. If you're not in need of anything Koenig-sir, I should probably get going.

"Ah yes, forgive me for keeping you."

There was a pause.

"I must ask though, where's your father?"

The soldier took a deep breath. Colonello didn't know where his father was, really. It had been too long ago. The blond was only eleven when he ran away from home. Oddly, his thoughts wandered to Don Timoteo. A week ago, The Ninth asked him if he believed in heaven. He answered yes, but not particularly the heaven amongst the clouds.

"He's in Someplace Great, Sir."

Koenig smiled at him sadly.

"I hope he knows he has a good son in you."

Colonello broke out a thin toothless grin. The first one since The Ninth's passing. He nodded at Koenig, and for once, it wasn't low enough to be a bow.

Iemitsu Sawada was the Vongola's official bearer of bad news.

The Ninth's guardians were strangely compliant in receiving it. The external advisor after talking to the last of them realized in the car ride home why that was. They were no more but remnants of the former century. No more but aging placeholders. It was time to retire and let the next generation carry Vongola's burdens.

Where Tsuna and his friend's ready? No, perhaps not. At this point however, they didn't get the right to refuse.

Nana.

What would she say about Grandpa Nono's death? She would console him, of course, and Iemitsu, ever the loving husband would indulge her of this unique female tendency of having to comfort those with losses.

The head of CEDEF felt his fingers tighten around the stirring wheel. Perhaps, he should indulge himself as well. Behind the snow-full sunset of Venice, Italy, he sped off to the place where night and day made no distinction.

Whatever Tsunayoshi Sawada was expecting when he woke up, it was certainly not this.

He was inside his room, was tucked in and well blanketed. The clock was ticking to twelve. On the foot of his bed, he saw Lambo and I-pin sleeping. Much nearer to him, he saw Kyoko.

She was asleep as well, one hand under a pillow, the other one rested on his sheets conveniently within reach. Maybe the boldness came with the grief, and Tsuna just didn't want to lose someone again, so eager he was to hold those close by.

Her hand was in his for a long time, and he just watched her bathing in the dim light; her skin seeming to absorb the light as it fell on her cheeks. He wasn't going to lose her. He wasn't going to lose any of them.

He couldn't help himself with Xanxus. He didn't even know how it started. One thing led to another, and they probably inflicted more serious injuries than intended. The rage, the grief, the guilt. Everything spilled all at once.

Kyoko was far too deep in the land of dreams to feel the golden band sliding up her left ring finger. It was a size too big for her, but that was alright. She'd take good care of it. He bought it during one random 'business' trip to Holland with Reborn. Since then, he never parted with it, and the gang made up stories of its origins.

He couldn't bring himself to smile with the recurring pain inside his chest. He knew it was no mortal ache, and no amount of painkillers would be able to dull it. He lied back down quietly, careful not to stir her awake.

He allowed his thumb to brush the inside of her wrist. Feeling her pulse, hearing her breathe, Tsunayoshi Sawada closed his eyes and counted sheep.

There was a blanket of snow outside Vongola Manor. Xanxus and Tsuna had melted several inches of its original thickness the day before, but as glorious as ever, the clouds pelted them with snowflakes overnight that the damage done was only slightly discernable.

For Yamamoto, there was nothing more depressing than seeing a winter wonderland unused. Except perhaps, the death of a boss.

He was at loss how to act. The Don was gone. The Fabled Timoteo was now no more but a fable.

Yamamoto stood outside a fellow guardian's door. Was going here the right thing to do?

"Mukuro-san? You there?"

After a few seconds of pregnant silence, the wooden frame opened to reveal a young illusionist in crinkled sleep wear.

"Swordsman, you're not here to ask me if I want to build a snowman, are you?"

"Actually," Yamamoto paused. This was just too crazy to work. "I was wondering if you'd like to join me for ice cream. There's a whole gallon in the fridge."

Gokudera had been demoted from right-hand man to errand boy in the span of days.

Go ask him how it happened. He'd gladly tell you a name.

"Lal Mirch."

He swore the female race was out to get him. Damn them all.

"Oi, hurry up."

Presently, he was waiting for the damn cow to finish his toiletry. The stupid kid just couldn't ask his stupid Haru-nee to help him, couldn't he?

"Ahoudera! It doesn't fit!"

Lambo strode into the room languidly. His nose red and snot-full from all his weeping. Gokudera frowned, stooping down so he could see what could be done. The boy flapped his arms to show how loose the sleeves were around the pits

"Alright, you better remember this. Bring your chest out. Keep your stomach in..."

This was what Gokudera's uncles used to say.

It doesn't matter how perfect the measurements are, little man. Once the day comes for you to pay your respect to the dead, the clothes will always feel one size too big. The seamstress can do nothing about that part, boy. You're made for pants and over-alls, and not for dark mourning suits.

Don't worry too much about the air swinging around your rib cage, kid. That's why you have a big black jacket. It's an anchor so don't be afraid to clutch it. Little girls will come to their daddies just to have a touch of it. Don't you ever make fun of them, okay? Their pink dresses make it easier for the wind to carry them away. Your pants have a secret compartment inside those pockets. It can hold the sea, you know? And it'll wash away the dirt if you allow it. Ball your fists inside, little man, and don't let your sadness turn to anger.

"Now for the tie. Pull it up, kid. Until the collar starts standing on its own, you won't have a choice but to look ahead."

Byakuran didn't like it one bit.

The Ninth was supposed to live. That was why Byakuran exerted himself, because Timoteo was supposed to survive, and during his era, the Elven Famiglia was supposed to pay for everything. Haru Miura stood close near the coffin. She was heavily covered, but really, who would've thought she'd look that well in black?

"Hello."

She was startled, and though she didn't pale, you'd know from her eyes how uneasy she was. She greeted back politely. Byakuran grinned seeing Xanxus advance. Just look at them. How cute were they with their worried expressions, with Miss Miura's nervousness oozing from the contours of her face. And Xanxus, when was he ever known for being protective of damsels-in-distress?

"I offer you my sincerest condolences, Xanxus."

"Thank you," was the man's sordid reply. "We appreciate your coming."

Byakuran was impressed. How polished, how rich, how gravely different were their current characters to the ones he knew in the past. He smiled coyly at them. They would've made a fine couple, had they not been so alike in bearing. The same suspicious glint in the eyes, the same masterful arch in the brow, the same malevolent aura warning Byakuran that one wrong move would cause his demise.

How interesting.

"I didn't do it for you," Xanxus sorely told her in private.

They were in the back part of the chapel now. The inside had already crowded.

Haru shook her head. "It wouldn't be right if you did."

The next night, it was Tsuna who stood near the casket. It was Tsuna who waited aimlessly for the dead to rise half-hopeful of a miracle.

Kyoko took him by the arm to rest, and on the bench nearest to the altar, she told him what others feared to say.

"He's gone, Tsuna-san."

"Lambo-chan, we've talked about this. No sweets before dinner."

"Bbbb—but, Haru-nee, your daddy gave it to me," the boy replied pouting with a lollipop.

"He did?"

"Yeah!"

From Lambo's boyish grin, Haru could tell it wasn't the first time her father indulged the kid.

Even Gokudera's father came. He was received cordially by the Vongola, though not by his son. Suprisingly, he had something to give Haru Miura.

"Please accept my humble gift, Miss Miura. I had my consigliere buy you a new phone. Innocenti had told me the misfortune that happened to your old one."

"That's very kind of you," she answered, slightly bowing. "You and my uncle are friends?"

"We're good acquaintances," he smiled at her. "Everyone must know who is who in our world."

"Tsuna-san, I've been meaning to tell you something."

The Tenth's head immediately shot up from the unsigned papers on his desk to the Japanese girl standing beneath the door frame.

"What is it Kyoko-chan?"

She stared at him unsurely before taking the place on his left. She showed him the ring.

"I'm not sure how it happened. I've been trying to return it to you since I found it. I just couldn't find the right time."

"Oh." Tsuna looked at her blankly. "Do you mind holding onto it for a while?"

The request was put so simply, was said so naturally that it perfectly hid the Decimo's anxiety of being declined. His eyes met with hers, and at that God-given second he knew they were fighting the same battle tonight.

"Just for a while?"

"I'll take it back someday, Kyoko-chan. I promise."

"You fucking drugged me twice."

"You and Massimo used to put explosives under my chair whenever I do business with Federico and Enrico."

"There's no undo button so you may want to think things through."

"I've been thinking it through since we fought checkerface," Colonello replied.

The soldier held the modified bazooka in his hands. The toy was barely recognizable now. Behind him were the former arcobalenos, standing equally bewildered of the contraption.

"What did you do to the bugs?" Verde asked.

"I fixed them," Koenig answered.

"This will really work, huh?" Reborn asked, looking at the toy over Colonello's shoulder.

"It really will," Koenig replied. "I computed everything to the last digit."

It was all they needed to hear.

"Give it to him, Colonello," Viper said energetically.

"Hopefully, it'll hurt less than last time," the infant soldier joked, handing the bazooka back to the Japanese professor.

"How convenient is it to have the whole rainbow team inside the manor because of The Ninth's death?"

It was the last cruel thing Verde would say as an infant.

Tsunayoshi Sawada could only gape at what had become of his tutor. Reborn, complacent as ever, stood in front him as if nothing had changed. But then, did it really matter if the hitman was five or twenty?

"How did it feel?" asked the stupefied Decimo.

Reborn flexed his right hand and moved his bony fingers. He smiled like a kid who was told from childhood he couldn't fly, but eventually grew up to be a pilot.

"Like I was drawn in to another life."

On the fourth day, Vongola buried The Ninth Father.

Haru Miura held a crying Lambo in her arms.

Hayato Gokudera stood nearby, unmoving.

"Things will be okay, Lambo." It was one of the few times he was gentle, one of the few times he used Italian. "I promise."

The Vongola was in full attendance, from CEDEF to Varia, to both surviving and current guardians. Honestly, it was disturbing to see a crowd as menacing as this one in uniform black. Innocenti was especially taken by the two in front, the first gentlemen accorded with the highest merits in the family. Tsunayoshi and Xanxus stood side by side each other during the last mass. It was such a solemn sight, and for the short moment their elbows touched the Parisian allowed himself to believe that hope really did lie in the young.

The first 'family' dinner after the Don's funeral, nobody dared to look up Xanxus.

They were still suited, you see. Each and every one of them wore their respective colors proudly. Xanxus as well was still in coat and tie. Subdued and silent, his handsomeness showed.

It was like seeing a younger Timoteo, and all those who insisted he wasn't The Ninth's might as well burn in hell.

Because those inside the manor saw it, and try as some of them might it couldn't be unseen.

"What now?" Viper asked.

"You mean now that we're twenty, and have another shot at this mafia-business?" Skull shrugged. "The Vongola might need some new faces around, you know. It might be time to reconsider that change of allegiance thing. "

"You just want to stay with the Reborn," Viper said, much to the stuntman's vehement denials. "How about you, Fon?"

"Oh, I have to settle a few things back at home."

"Like what?"

"Well, I have a student in need of guidance," the martial artist smiled. "And a much younger half-brother in need of discipline."

"I pity them already." Viper chuckled.

Just for now, forgotten was the apathy.

Haru Miura did not understand.

They were inside her room. Verde, Innocenti, her father, they were telling her things. Something about the beauty of Europe, something about the mess left back in Japan, how things would eventually clear out for all of them, and then maybe, Haru could come back. But only one thing was clear to her. One thing that her father purposely didn't say because he couldn't, because it would hurt him as much as it would hurt her.

"You're leaving Haru-chan?" Unbeknownst to her then, it was the last time she would ever use third-person as an attempt to cushion the fear.

"I'm sorry."

It was in the uttering of these words did the obedient daughter lose it. And no, she could not continue the farce. Because she had flown here to Italy with the hope of returning to Japan, and to be denied her right to go home was where she drew the line. And so she yelled, and stomped, and exerted herself to this building tantrum. Fate had knocked on her doorstep that hour, and it had been so long since its last visit, the brunette had forgotten how spontaneous the lashes were.

"Daddy, don't leave me, please—"

She could feel hands wrapping around her forearms, hands rubbing the back of her head. It would be alright, they said. It wouldn't take long. This was for your safety. It would just be for a while.

A while.

A short while.

"STOP LYING!"

And the world fell away with the angry echo of her beautiful voice.

Haru Miura felt a light kiss on her right cheek, and heard words that were lost to her. There was another kiss on her forehead, and this time she forced herself to listen, forced herself to look because she knew her father never said goodbye so plainly.

"I promise there will come a day when all of this won't hurt as much as today."

The beauty of a lady could not diminish the beauty of the sunset.

Some would say one was much more charming than the other, yet in the end of it all, those people must acquiesce that both subjects were by themselves, beautiful. The Loch Ness Monster was a strange thing, and so was Xanxus carrying a brown bow-tied teddy bear entering, without knocking, the mademoiselle's quarters. Innocenti had seen both the monster and the bear, but didn't care to scale the strangeness of something people would never believe.

"You'll have to take it easy on her. She's been crying all day."

The Frenchman smiled at him encouragingly before leaving. Some strange things were not meant to be questioned.

"You have the right to be upset," Xanxus sighed. "France is a dump."

"Please leave," she answered meekly.

"I have a shitty dad too, you know," he told her indifferently. "Made me promise to babysit a few brats."

He threw the bear at her. But then why must people bother protecting beings made of marble?

Haru Miura ate a cold dinner inside her room that night.

"Did Xanxus say his goodbye?"

Scowling, the brunette forked her baby carrots. "To be honest, I'm not really sure."

Innocenti sighed staring at the brown bear on the bed. "That boy has always been handful to deal with."

The inside balcony was too elegant to be taken for granted. Haru fell once. Now that she was leaving the Manor, things needed to be settled between her and this post modern design. Taking off her heels, she placed herself against the railing. Then up. Then forward. She was calmer this time so when her knees felt the pressure, she was quick to balance herself with her feet. Though her landing wasn't perfect at least she carried herself properly this time.

"Haru-chan?"

Panic overcame her. The voice came from above. She was rummaging her mind for good alibis. Steady footfalls came down from the staircase. Reborn in all his adult glory smiled at her knowingly.

"You forgot your shoes."

"This isn't right," Haru said, crossing her arms. "Nothing is right."

"Haru-chan, we'll be okay," Kyoko replied. "I really miss Japan, you know."

"But—"

"Things will work out," Kyoko smiled cheerfully. "I trust Tsuna-san."

It took everything inside Haru's person not to burst at The Tenth.

He was perfectly at ease with her. He was even smiling. The long sleeves and dress pants he wore hid the bruises perfectly. Haru didn't like it. It was too pressed. Too flawless. With an equally unimpressed Mukuro beside him, the brunette knew her worry wasn't unreasonable.

"You're letting them go back to Japan?"

"They'll be fine, Haru-chan. Colonello and Fon would be joining them."

"But Kyoko-chan," she gritted her teeth. Mukuro and Gokudera were the only ones allowed to stay with Tsuna. The rest were going back. "You can't leave her."

"Don't worry, Haru-chan. It'll be alright," he said this while shading his eyes against the strong wind from the copter's propellers.

The brunette did the same, only her eyes were squinted. She saw her bracelet gleam under the sun's rays. Tsuna's signature ring would've done the same if only it was there. The detail didn't escape her, most likely because she had a precious relic of her own. Then it occurred to her. Why The Tenth was so amendable with Kyoko leaving, why he didn't even seem bothered that his first love would be oceans away from him. Haru pulled him to a tight hug, and this time, he hugged her back. Her face against his shoulder, his own against hers, she whispered thank you.

"Be careful, Haru-chan."

Replies to Reviews:

Guest 1: Yes! Thank you very much!
Rane Kurodo: Rane, my man! You still there? I am trying my best to keep it together but it's so hard to incorporate everyone here. I'm sticking with the underdogs. Fufufufu. Love lots, my dear :*
Spirit Kagome: Nice! XD
Guest 2: Indeed~~~~