Pick up the Pieces and Rebuild

by Umei no Mai

Xanxus makes a decision and follows through on it, far-reaching consequences be damned. It's harder than it sounds. (Post-canon, canon-typical violence, crime and child abuse, exploration of trauma and recovery, panic attacks, non-traditional relationships, family fluff.) Third in the 'Pick up the Pieces' series. Cover art by mayurei.

3. Chapter 3

Pick up the pieces (and rebuild)

Xanxus rolled out of bed at half-past five on the morning of his birthday, stumbled into the bathroom, used the toilet, washed his hands and then stared at his reflection in the mirror for a solid minute.

The entire Varia was retiring with him.

He knew better than to assume it was entirely out of loyalty; yes, some of them were following him out of loyalty, but the others were either standing with their friends, looking at the likelihood of future Vongola sanctions and wanting to avoid that whole mess or just taking note of how many other people were retiring and not wanting to get left holding the baby. As it were.

It was still genuinely touching; he'd have to have another meeting with Tyrant, to hash out the details of who was coming, who wasn't and make sure everybody staying behind had work lined up before he finally left. The farmstead could probably go back to being a working farm –possibly supplying the Cavallone? Or even feeding the independent venture being run by ex-Varia; it wasn't like it was that far from here to there– but that wouldn't employ more than maybe three people at the very most and the farmhouse wasn't really big enough for more than two anyway.

Tyrant would probably have plans already; there was always that hospital project kitty-cat was cooking up with horse, as they would need cleaning staff and building contractors and Varia Housekeeping included both.

Mammon was clearly getting on with stripping the Varia of every possible asset that didn't come directly from the Vongola, which was everything other than the castle building itself and the grounds; the soil specifically, as they could probably make an argument for selling off the trees and other plants. It wasn't like the Vongola could sell the castle after the Varia had left either; there were no shortage of variously derelict castles scattered across Sicily –and all of Italy really– so they were vanishingly unlikely to find a buyer.

Probably wouldn't want to sell it either, what with the risk of civvies stumbling into forgotten traps left behind and the rather more pressing problem that was all the mass graves scattered across the grounds. The entire property was a mass grave, in more ways than one; the Varia had been burying people all over the place for well over half a century now and not all of those bodies had been deboned beforehand. Never mind the body farm; that might have to be sectioned off and turned over to somebody qualified to supervise it, unless Bulldog was staying behind to manage it on Vongola funding. It was technically a joint project with Vongola Medical and Legal after all.

That would still mean the Vongola would be left with a massive Moorish castle to pay property taxes on, which would be costly to maintain should anybody even be willing to attempt getting in. A few of the members of Varia Housekeeping left behind might care enough to do a spot of basic maintenance, but a few pairs of hands were nowhere near sufficient to keep everything in good shape.

There was also the problem that the Varia Archive would need to be kept as it was –it belonged to the Varia so couldn't be moved or emptied– which meant a basic Ward system would need to be left in place to protect it. The various Cursed nasties in the dungeons might be taken or left –it depended how keen the R&D geeks and the Curse specialists were on studying them or trying to destroy them– and leaving them as 'Varia duties' would mean leaving more of the security up, so nobody could let anything out.

Xanxus didn't doubt that Mammon could rig the security to feed on the deaths of the trespassers it killed; the question was, how long would that last? Wards could draw additional energy from plant life as well, and the grounds were large enough that they could feasibly go on doing so for some time before the additional strain started to take its toll on the local ecosystem, but still…

Well, they could always sneak back in a decade or two down the line to see how things were holding up and reassess. Twenty years and the old fart would probably be dead and in the ground; Chew Toy might be too, since he'd no longer have the implicit threat of the Varia to keep the Alliance's enemies in line with and possessed all the spine of an overcooked noodle. Trash hadn't even lasted a decade in the simulation after all.

Feeling cheered by that revelation, Xanxus headed back to bed. It was too early for anything except cuddling with the shark right now, but in a few hours he'd head back down to the farm for his cake and to enjoy the quiet. He was nineteen now, but the old fart might still try to pull shit and he'd rather leave that to Luss. His Sun had very clearly enjoyed thwarting the old fucker last year, so offering further opportunities was considerate.

"Time is it?" his Rain mumbled as he slid back under the covers.

"Early," Xanxus replied quietly, stroking a hand down the shark's side over his t-shirt until it came to rest on his bare hip. The swordsman sighed and rolled over, leaning his face into Xanxus's throat.

"Want to fuck?" shark asked idly, breath hot against bare skin.

Xanxus felt his mouth twitch up into a smirk. "Happy birthday to me," he hummed, nipping lightly on his Rain's collarbone. Squalo's answering snort was very satisfying, as was the shudder as Xanxus's hand found the other man's dick.

They had a few hours; he could take his time unravelling the shark.

---

By the time Squalo finally rolled out of bed, Boss had showered, dressed and was halfway through a birthday breakfast provided by Housekeeping. "Spending the day on the farm," his Sky said in between mouthfuls of chocolate crepes.

Avoiding Nono, no doubt. "I'll stop by my family; pick up whatever presents they've got for you so they don't have to deal with Varia security," Squalo decided, stretching languidly and shaking his hair out of his face, not caring that the old t-shirt he wore to sleep in didn't hang much lower than his hips. Pantera had texted him yesterday to let him know there was a pile of presents for Xanxus he needed to pick up, so fetching them would mean he could get out of the building and thereby avoid Vongola politics.

"Bring round the farm," Boss ordered without looking up, shovelling more crepes into his mouth.

"Was planning on it, Boss." Like he'd let the Varia see what his Sky was getting from his Family unless Xanxus explicitly gave him the go-ahead.

"Can use the shower," the Sky added, words muffled.

Squalo side-eyed his Sky. "Vooi, are you saying I smell, Boss?" He'd showered yesterday evening, after a few hours' heavy sparring, so there was no way he could smell that bad just yet.

Boss swallowed. "Smell like sex," he said smugly. "Don't mind; kitty-cat might comment though."

Yeah Pantera would notice and then he'd have to fend off nosy inquiries. Very pointed and annoyingly accurate inquiries, since his cousin had a brain. The gossip circuit was still under the impression that he and Lessi had a thing going on, which would derail most people but Pantera unfortunately knew him better than that; cat would take note of the date and start musing about threesomes. Which, it wasn't that he was even slightly ashamed of what he and Boss were doing, but dragging Lessi into it would make it awkward for her as her father would be all in favour of her marrying Boss, which she very much did not want to do.

He'd seen her eying Alizeti lately, which was amusing and likely to work out for both of them because the younger Sun GM admired the Cloud Officer whole-heartedly and had something of a crush. Which of course he'd never act on while they were both Varia because cross-ranking relationships like that were frowned upon due to the mismatched power dynamics, but since everybody was retiring come Christmas that wasn't going to be an obstacle for much longer.

"I'm using your shower, it's bigger than mine," Squalo decided, stretching again and turning back towards the bedroom. "Have Housekeeping bring over a change of clothes; civvie stuff, practical for the farm." Yes his bedroom was extensively trapped, but only for Actives. Latent Housekeeping members could get in and out just fine, which meant they cleaned the bathroom while he was out on missions and put his clothing back in his closet rather than just leaving it in his slot in the communal airing cupboards. The privileges of rank, orderliness and selective security; Bel couldn't do selective security and his room was a pigsty with knives and poisons scattered everywhere, so he had to do his own cleaning regardless of rank. Or else make the mooks do it as a training exercise.

"Will do," Xanxus agreed, his words muffled by crepe once again.

---

There were quite a lot of gifts piled up in the little side-room Solare showed him into; Squalo was glad he'd thought to drive over rather than come on his motorbike. Who were all these from?

Picking up the nearest package with both hands, Squalo flicked the label over; 'Aunt Ornata;' well that made sense, seeing as she was Xanxus's actual aunt. Of course she'd want to give him a birthday present. He resisted the urge to shake the box; they weren't his presents.

"Voi, can you get me some bags?" Shopping bags would make moving all these much easier and safer, as he'd be able to carry more at once without risking any of them getting dropped and possibly damaged.

Solare nodded briskly. "Of course." She glanced assessingly at the mound of gifts; "large reinforced bags." She left the room.

Squalo started sorting the gifts by size and weight, laying them in rows to make it easier to pack them into bags. At least two of the gifts were live plants –shape and weight distribution made that much clear– which would be interesting for Xanxus since he didn't think the man had ever had a pot plant before. Florrie had a dozen or so, which Squalo knew Xanxus helped her water when he visited, so at least he'd know where to start with them.

Some of the packages were squashy, which implied clothing or possibly a cushion or some other soft furnishing. Others were solid in a way that was either an indication of literature or chocolate; weight- and shape-wise most of those could go either way. Some were obviously CDs –not much else was that size and shape– and others were equally clearly alcohol, since they made sloshy noises. A few were downright baffling –the inscrutably cuboid boxes mainly– but Xanxus would be opening them all soon enough, so Squalo wouldn't have to suffer too long.

There was also an open shoebox full of brightly coloured envelopes, so Xanxus would have enough birthday cards to cover every last flat surface in the farmstead; the Varia didn't really bother with cards as a rule, so that would be different.

Squalo was maybe a bit jealous; he didn't get this many birthday presents. Then again he hadn't been missing for the first eighteen years of his life, so maybe it wasn't so surprising that everybody wanted to spoil his Sky rotten to make up for all the things he'd missed out on.

"Ah, there you are, cousin."

Squalo raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed loudly. "What do you want, cat?" That particular pleased tone only came out when Pantera had found the perfect victim for his latest twisty scheme, so whatever it was his cousin wanted him to do, Squalo wanted to make sure it was worth his while.

There was no point trying to avoid the thing, but if the cat ensured he got something out of it too then he wouldn't complain too much.

"Did you know the Giglio Nero and the Trad 6 were competing for a Vongola supply contract?" the Heir Superbi said idly, wandering into the room and leaning his elbows on the back of the loveseat. "Logistical support, documentation, those kinds of things. The Trad 6 successfully argued that the Giglio Nero 'lacked fundamental Vongola values' and got the contract, despite their offer being less profitable."

Squalo raised an eyebrow; so the smear campaign was gaining traction then. "Voi, what's that got to do with me?"

Pantera stared coolly at him. "What can you tell me about Donna Yuni Giglio Nero, Squalo?" he asked mildly.

Squalo thought about it. "She's not actually Donna Aria's daughter, we checked. Not her niece or a 'distant cousin' or any of that either. We did a comprehensive Giglio Nero family tree" –grave robbery made many things possible– "and she's not on it." Mist-made family trees were as much about who had physically given birth to whom as genetic similarity; there was more to what made a family than mere blood and a surrogate showed up just as much as an egg or sperm donor. There'd been some interesting surprises on that tree. "Genetically she could be Aria's, but on her own tree she shows up as a singular entity lacking in parents, which usually only happens when Mists fuck around with genetics from multiple donors in the lab and grow a kitten in a test-tube." Which several Varia had done in the past, just to prove they could; Frankenkitty and Cobble had otherwise been completely healthy and were now mothers and grandmas to numerous perfectly healthy offspring.

"She appeared right after the memory mess, did she not?"

Squalo nodded. "According to the Bovino's notes on how their Bazooka worked, she shouldn't have existed in the simulation," he said bluntly, "but equally, Donna Aria would have died about six years into the simulation due to the effects of the Sky pacifier, which would then have needed to be handed on to another Sky. Some have theorised that the simulation used the templates in the pacifier of previous Sky Arcobaleno, mashed them together and created a fake person with the Will that echoed most coherently within the pacifier." Or else whatever the Will of the Tri-Ni-Sette was. "But that's just a theory."

"And what driving Will might that be?" Pantera asked, draping himself more comfortably over the back of the loveseat with his chin propped up on his fingers.

"To not die," Squalo said concisely. "Every single Sky Arcobaleno had died young; how many of those do you think genuinely wanted to?"

"So Miss Yuni wants, more than anything else, to not die," Pantera mused, "and she is a ghost within a simulation; a Sky Arcobaleno ghost at that, so she likely knows that she does not truly exist. So she wastes the lives of her subordinates to improve her standing, twists the simulation and those affected by it so that real people are trapped within it for an extended period –including a real Arcobaleno pacifier and the Vongola Rings, which anchor through time– then follows them out when they leave, usurping control of the Sky Pacifier from her supposed 'mother' and killing her so that she can live the life she has become accustomed to and desperately desires to keep." He sighed. "So transparent." He sounded disappointed.

"She's actually alive now," Squalo pointed out, "with a real brain and brain chemistry. She's just got the emotions and attitude of a toddler because she's only physically existed for a few years." The attitude of a real toddler rather than an Arcobaleno one; Mammon had retained adult mental development and emotional awareness despite appearing to be two.

"So she could in theory become a mature, caring adult with functional empathy in a few decades' time," the Heir Superbi said measuredly, "but for now she is a selfish, greedy infant, with near-adult intellect, articulation and appearance to get her way with." He sighed again. "Lovely."

"A good solid Curse would regress her," Squalo offered; all the Varia's Mists had agreed on that point, despite disagreeing vehemently on whether or not she was genuinely human. Or genuinely whatever Kawahira's species had been or some hybrid thereof; Squalo had stayed well out of those discussions as they'd taken a turn for the spiritual and philosophical very quickly. "She's not an Arcobaleno anymore and her body knows it's barely two and a half. Some surreptitious Flame inhibitors and the right wording and she'd be reduced to a stomping, screaming toddler." Which would be karma, so far as he was concerned, so might possibly not even qualify as a Curse at all.

"A Flame-Active toddler." Active Flames were very bad for small children; it warped their mental development.

"Technically she's one already." Being physically regressed might even be good for her mental and emotional health. It would at least prompt those around her to actually treat her as the small child she was, imposing healthy boundaries on her until she learnt to maintain them herself; learning boundaries and respecting them was an important part of early mental development, no matter how much the child in question raged against having their influence limited.

"Would the Varia..?" His cousin asked leadingly.

"No." They were all retiring, but he wasn't about to say that. "We're in enough shit at the moment without Nono accusing us of attacking an Allied Donna." 'Incomprehensible and untraceable' was practically a Varia calling card, so lack of evidence wouldn't save them there.

Pantera nodded acceptingly. "Would the Varia be willing to sell me their opinions and the evidence they have gathered on the subject?"

"Submit a request to Information, they'll ask the individuals in question," Squalo said shortly; he could feel Solare coming back and wanted the discussion over. "You'll have to pay the various people separately for their time and expertise rather than making it a mission though, or else it won't get past the caps."

"Caps?"

Cat hadn't heard? "Nono instituted mission caps for the Varia last Quiet Week; we're only allowed to take a set number of missions per quarter."

"Significantly fewer missions, I assume?" Pantera inquired as Solare walked back in with a large cardboard fruit box piled high with bags.

"We're struggling to meet the Vongola wage minimums after overheads," Squalo said sourly; he might not be Mammon but he'd run the Varia for years; he knew what those numbers on his subordinates' mission reports and official wage slips meant. Yes, Mammon was supplementing everybody up to last year's income levels regardless, but Nono's destructive short-sightedness offended him.

"You've not taken this to Don Vongola?"

Mammon had; well, had tried. Once. For the look of the thing. "Apparently we don't have any problems that some 'internal restructuring' wouldn't fix." Meaning, firing the people who weren't Alliance-born and slashing everybody else's employment benefits to almost nothing so the numbers looked better; Nono was fucking scum.

"I see." His cousin clearly did, going by that deliberately blank frown. Solare clearly did too; her sniff made it clear that the Family's opinion of Don Vongola was about to drop even lower than it already was. The Varia employed Superbi –just two but that was enough– so the Family wanted it to be successful. Deliberately strangling the growth and opportunities of Family members would put Nono on everybody's shit list.

"Well, let's get those gifts loaded up, shall we?" Cat said with a bland, amiable smile that barely camouflaged the ferocious thought taking place underneath. "Give our cousin our very best wishes, won't you?"

Oh yes; the Varia employed three Superbi now. One of whom was Varia Boss. Oh yes, Nono was going to really get it from Uncle Leone over this. This was technically breaking the terms of the Superbi joining the Vongola Alliance after all; hampering their 'pursuit of excellence.'

It promised to be amusing, since Don Vongola certainly wasn't going to change his mind within the next few months; by next Quiet Week at best, possibly, if he thought Xanxus had 'learned his lesson' by then. Except he wasn't going to get that long, was he?

Squalo did his best to smother his grin; now was not the time.

---

"Happy birthday Xanxus!"

"Thanks," Xanxus said, smiling at the sound of his Cloud's voice. "Doing well?" He'd been calling her as often as he could since taking a few days to deal with the Varia home invasion she'd suffered, to make sure she was continuing to recover.

"Very well, thank you; did you like your present?"

"Very much," he assured her; she'd sent him an old-fashioned hurricane lantern and asked in the card whether it would be possible to convert it to run on Flames rather than paraffin. His mind was already chewing happily on the challenge and pondering the possibility of using Flame Ice as part of setup, since it was self-sustaining in a suitably Flame-rich environment and could support a steady drain. "Going to have fun with it."

"Oh good."

"Like the handkerchiefs too." They'd clearly been an additional gag-gift, but they each had an 'X' embroidered in one corner and nobody had ever given him cotton hankies before. Florrie generally had one on her person somewhere –men's hankies as they were larger and sturdier– but he'd always stuck to paper tissues. Handkerchiefs were more multipurpose though; he'd seen Florrie absently dust the top of a bookshelf with one, bandage a scraped elbow while out on a walk and wrap up a few biscuits before pocketing them. On separate occasions of course; Xanxus had a feeling at least half of his would end up stained with machine oils and other workshop-related fluids before long.

They were also all orange. A relatively tasteful autumnal orange, but still orange. He wasn't going to accidentally lose track of them.

"I saw them and thought of you," his Cloud told him cheerfully.

She probably had. "Where'd you find them?"

His friend giggled. "I was looking for a dye pack to re-dye my linen trousers, the blue pair, as they were getting rather faded," she told him cheerfully, "and I noticed there was a pack of orange dye. And I was inspired, so I bought some plain cotton handkerchiefs with a black initial on them and decided to see if my idea would work. And it did!"

So she'd technically made them herself. "Will they bleed?"

"They shouldn't, I washed them a few more times after dying and fixing them," Florrie said firmly. "Washed them on hot, too."

"Be fine then." Good to know. "What does 'deadhead' mean?"

"Er, I assume this is a gardening question?"

"Yes." He'd got a potted plant from Ghepardo's son Servalo for his birthday and the handwritten care instructions assumed a level of familiarity with gardening conventions which Xanxus lacked.

"It's cutting off dead flowers before they can go to seed; you do it to a plant so it continues flowering for longer."

"Like you do with your lavender?"

"Sort of; I harvest the lavender before it flowers, because the essential oils are strongest in the buds, but the same principle does apply as the bush will put out more buds to replace the ones I've trimmed off."

That made sense. "Not bad for the plant in the long run?"

"Not at all; you're just stopping it from expending energy reproducing."

That followed; plant birth control, ha. "Planning anything for your birthday?"

"Well it's going to be on a Saturday this year, so Chickie made me promise to let her arrange a party," Florrie said, her tone making it clear she still wasn't entirely sold on the idea. "I made her promise not to invite more than twelve people and that it had to be a daytime thing, but I have no idea what she's getting up to there and I'm not sure I want to."

"If it turns out dreadful I'll come the weekend after and we can go out for afternoon tea." There were a range of fancy tea shops that did what his Cloud called 'a proper high tea' near where she lived, so it wouldn't be a challenge. That was a month away, so plenty of time to book a few days' holiday; or else pack a Mist-box and work from her flat, so it looked like he was still in the office to outsiders.

"That sounds nice," Florrie said wistfully.

"Do it anyway then." If it would make her happy there was no point having it be a conditional thing.

"On the eighth then?"

"It's a date," Xanxus agreed comfortably. "Anything particular you'd like for your birthday?"

A pause. "Dark chocolate ice cream," his Cloud said eventually. "You've ruined me for shop-bought chocolate ice cream, you fiend; nothing tastes good enough anymore!"

Xanxus chuckled; England didn't have artisan ice cream like Italy did, so it wasn't so surprising that she couldn't buy anything that matched the stuff he'd made with his Flames the last time he'd visited. He'd found a few Italian recipes and liked them more than the British ones –fewer ingredients and less sugar– so was now using those ones exclusively.

"Might start an ice cream business after retiring," he mused a little teasingly.

"You'd never run out of customers," his Cloud informed him. "Also, my boots need re-soling but I'm hesitant to just walk into a local cobbler's with them when I've never been to one before and don't know what to look or ask for."

"Can sort that out." The Varia cobbler would still have her foot castings and the associated measurements; he could make new soles and then Xanxus could bring her boots back with him after her birthday for them to be attached, and then post the refurbished boots to her afterwards. Which reminded him, he needed to make sure that guy and his family didn't go out of business when the Varia disbanded…

"Thank you, I noticed the soles were wearing thin yesterday and I wasn't sure what to do."

"No problem. Love you."

"Love you too; enjoy the rest of your birthday."

"Will do; bye."

"Bye-bye!"

---

The week after his birthday took a turn for the unexpectedly busy, despite the dearth of missions; it started with an unexpected flurry of personal letters on the Monday morning and unfolded from there.

"Gwasgedd's had the baby then," was all the shark had to say when Xanxus waved the baptism invitation in his face.

"Didn't even know they'd got married yet, shark." He was pretty sure he'd have noticed a wedding invitation.

Squalo grinned. "Oh, they did it privately at the Palermo registry office barely a week after retiring, with Gwasgedd's Clouds as witnesses; neither of them are Catholic, so it was never going to be a big church wedding. They've asked Gregorius to do the baptism though, since that's a pretty universal sacrament."

"In the Varia chapel." Why hadn't this come up sooner?

"It's Gregorius's church anyway," shark said with a shrug. "He gets intense if you try to suggest people need permission to come in the front door. I mean, anybody who can get past the security on the grounds deserves sanctuary, don't you think?" The chapel was behind the castle that was Varia Headquarters, attached but not really part of the main fortifications and invisible to guests coming up the front drive.

Xanxus narrowed his eyes at his Rain. "You're smug."

Shark flashed another grin. "I've been asked to stand as godparent on Gwas's side, along with Oversight." Oversight was a strictly technical sufferer of femininity on the Varia paperwork –more so than most since they insisted on male pronouns– but they preferred dressing and being addressed as a woman when not working.

Xanxus wasn't sure if he was relieved or offended he hadn't been picked. "Who'd Sarja go for?"

"Sekti and Micia." That made sense; Sekti was very steady and reliable –more so than Bel would ever be– and Micia was Sarja's replacement as Leader of Problem Squad.

"Brat's going to grow up interesting," the Varia Boss mused idly, setting the invitation to one side and picking up the next letter.

"Interesting name they picked too," shark agreed; "Thierry Chrysós? Wonder what's behind that."

Xanxus hummed, eyes skimming the next piece of correspondence. "Scooby wants a meet-up," he noted; that was unexpected. What was the Gesso Heir after?

Shark hummed curiously.

"It's personal not business, so it's not about the ongoing mission or commissioning a new one," the Varia Boss noted, re-reading the letter more carefully, "but he's being very cagey about what he wants to talk about exactly." The slight feel of Sky Flames on the letter were a mix of trepidation, anticipation and pique, which made for a volatile and unpredictable combination.

"Going to agree to it, Boss?"

Well, why not? It wasn't like it would make a difference in the long run and what the Varia were currently doing was nothing like the fake-future, so they'd probably be safe from Scooby poking his nose where it wasn't wanted. "Will book him in; he can come here." That would force the cracked Sky to either reschedule and offer an alternative venue –which Xanxus would turn down; Scooby wanted to talk he could come to the Varia– or show up, and if he showed up then the number and selection of Guardians he brought along would be telling.

Nobody at the Varia liked the Gesso much. The antipathy was mutual, if somewhat pointless since it was over something that hadn't actually happened in the first place. Not that knowing that meant the Varia would drop the grudge; they'd killed people for less after all.

The next letter he picked up was from the old fart –he could feel the Flames on it– so he incinerated it unopened without so much as glancing at the front. "Whoops," he deadpanned as he brushed the ashes off his fingers; if it had been official a messenger would have brought it, and having a personal letter vanish in the postal system was not uncommon so he could honestly say he'd not seen it.

After that there were a handful of late-arriving birthday cards –from his non-local Superbi half-siblings– and four identical envelopes bearing the seal and watermark of Vongola Legal.

Xanxus glared suspiciously at the array of crisp, creamy legal stationary for a full second before cautiously slitting the top envelope and drawing the folded pages out.

"… shark."

"Yes Boss?"

Xanxus hurled the letter at him. "Read this."

His Rain did so, eyes darting this way and that across the page. "Looks pretty straightforward to me, Boss," the other man admitted eventually, looking up to meet his gaze. "Enrico left you shit in his will, you weren't there to hand it off to at the time so it went into storage, but now you're around again, so the executors have to arrange handover of physical items and transfer of funds."

Okay, clearly shark had considerably more experience of the legalities of inheritance procedures than he did, but Xanxus was still stuck on his hated 'eldest brother' leaving him anything. "Been out and about three years now," was what he actually said.

"Legal shit moves damn slow," shark said, shrugging. "Somebody probably brought it to their attention recently, or else it might have taken them even longer to remember you were owed stuff."

Xanxus grunted and waved a hand at his Rain, who obligingly handed the letter back. The Varia Boss tried to read the printed words again, but his eyes kept getting drawn to the neat little table taking up the bottom of the first page and the bulk of the second page, which contained a litany of things Enrico had owned that Xanxus had been deeply jealous of as a child. Quinto's katar, which the oldest Vongola son had been given for his eighteenth birthday; the full set of incredibly rare and expensive chemistry and geology texts that Enrico had bought while studying for his doctorate in gemology, along with his entire travel lab; the display case of fossils that had so fascinated Xanxus when he was eight and that Enrico had only let him look at to get him to shut up about them; a box of survey and geological maps that were valued rather low but that Xanxus knew had been pulled out repeatedly whenever the oldest Vongola sibling wanted to argue with his father about the prospective location of a new business or Alliance construction project; controlling shares in a prominent local chocolate company that had provided Enrico with a seemingly bottomless supply of free treats; a blanket that Grandma had stitched for her oldest grandson before he was even born.

All things that were his now; things Enrico had at some point decided to give to him.

Xanxus had thought he knew how he felt about Enrico and now the fucker had to go and throw him off, despite having been dead for a decade. The self-important asshole.

Three more envelopes; one from Massimo, one from Federico and one from Grandma.

"Shark, I'm taking the morning off."

"Sure thing Boss," his Rain agreed, eyes darting briefly to the unopened letters. "Want me to have Information write a reply for Scooby?"

"Offer Thursday, mid-afternoon."

"Will do, Boss." Squalo left. Xanxus picked up the legal letters –one open and three still sealed– and left his office, curling up on his bed with Stripes, as he'd privately named the stuffed tiger Florrie had given him. Bester was lounging downstairs somewhere and sulking because Florrie wasn't close enough to visit anymore –something the liger had been doing on and off for over a year now– so he'd have to stick with petting the plush toy his Cloud had given him.

He'd call her later, once he knew what he was dealing with and she wasn't in class anymore.

---

"Hello Xanxus!"

Xanxus did not bother with a greeting. "Turns out my brothers left me shit," he said bluntly into the phone.

Florrie got it. "Ah." A pause. "People are complicated."

"I was fine with hating them!" He paused. "Well maybe not hating-hating them; disliking them and getting over myself on it." It had been much more straightforward before the legal letters arrived. Grandma leaving him stuff was easier to accept, if more painful to think about.

Florrie hummed.

"I thought they didn't like me?" Xanxus grumbled.

His Cloud sighed. "Xanxus, death makes things complicated. They may well not have liked you, but they considered you to be family and preferred to try to keep their belongings in the family rather than just accept they were all going to be chucked out or sold when they died. Or maybe they did like you but were completely terrible at expressing it. Or maybe your being gone from their lives for a few years gave their memories of you a rosy-tinted glow; stranger things have happened."

Xanxus snorted at that last one; he'd experienced that for himself, catching himself thinking that maybe the arguments and sniping hadn't been that bad. They really had; he was just over it now, so the memories didn't hurt like they used to.

"I mean, it could even have been to spite their father; people write stuff in their wills for all kinds of reasons," Florrie continued. "You're never going to know why unless they wrote you a letter, and even that only tells you what they think their reasons are or what they want you to believe the reasons are. Whatever their reasons, those things are yours now. Do whatever you want with them."

Yes. That all made sense and was very practical. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome."

"People are Stupid."

His Cloud chuckled. "We're all Fallen and fallible and trying very badly to do our best, Xanxus."

Maybe. "Love you. Bye."

"Love you too; see you soon." She hung up.

Xanxus did likewise and put his phone down, then let his eyes drift back to the open letters lying on the mattress next to him. The problem with unpacking his issues and dealing with the bad shit he'd repressed was that it turned out there'd been a lot of good shit repressed as well. Well, less-bad shit anyway. These letters brought a lot of those less-bad things back to the surface and they were just as uncomfortable as the bad shit.

Massimo had done a lot to help him refine his Flame usage; the middle Vongola brother had the largest reserves of the trio and had given Xanxus lots of useful tips as well as instilled in him the importance of discipline and incremental improvements. Massimo hadn't really had any particular natural talents, but he'd been a hard worker and unafraid of putting in effort towards long-term goals.

Massimo had also been the 'rebellious sibling' up until Xanxus had come along and become the family hellion, but the old fart had not stopped disparaging his second son just because the feral foundling was even more badly behaved. Massimo had been looked down on for refusing to stop hanging around with the members of Housekeeping he'd grown up alongside despite now being adult, he'd been disparaged for wearing an open dress shirt over a vest rather than bothering with suits and ties, he'd been sighed at for being built like a weightlifter or bouncer rather than a dapper businessman and that his personal weapon was a pry bar had made the old fart lecture him regularly about his image. You make the Vongola look like a pack of thugs, Massimo!

Xanxus was now ashamed to admit he'd taken on some of the old fart's attitude there and looked down his nose at Massimo for 'behaviour not befitting a Vongola.' Like the old fart's standards meant shit. He'd also mocked Massimo's complete inability with politics, which he could now see was to do with Massimo being fairly straightforward and really disliking the amoral schmooze that was part and parcel of negotiating with rich assholes. Xanxus didn't like it either these days, but unlike Massimo he could actually do it without letting his opinion of the people he was talking to seep into his attitude.

Massimo would have made a great underboss or even a good don of a smaller subordinate Famiglia, but Head of the Alliance? No chance. Whoever had killed him –which he'd pointedly not asked about yet– could even have been Alliance themselves, overreacting to a petty slight.

Enrico had been a snobbish asshole, but he'd goaded Xanxus to greater intellectual heights and never told him that he was 'too young' to understand technical stuff. It had been Enrico taking his side against the old fart when he wanted to learn more challenging things, although the asshole's argument had always been things like 'he acts up less when he's busy' and 'of course he's being a little shit, he's bored, give him something harder to learn' rather than any recognition that Xanxus was lonely as much as bored and wanted his family to pay attention to him, or at least do shit with him.

It had also been Enrico who had –possibly inadvertently– taught him the importance of context; yes, new housing was all very well but don't build it on the river floodplain, you cretins. Yes, it's easy to build there and the land is cheap, but you'll be dealing with water damage and complaints every five to ten years and that's expensive and bad publicity in the long run. Context is everything; why are they offering a good deal? What will change if we do the thing?

Enrico had also modelled political negotiation to him; he'd watched the oldest Vongola sibling laugh and flatter and charm and win concessions and change opinions with nothing more than empty words and resolved to do it better. Because he could twist people around with words too, but unlike Enrico he'd actually make promises and follow through with them, to the benefit of the wider Vongola even, rather than just using the skill to get everybody to agree with him.

Enrico hadn't given a shit about the people who made up the Alliance; he'd seen them as a necessary evil, idiots he had to string along for access to their money. If he'd ever actually put on the Vongola Ring it probably would have killed him, but he'd have made an excellent Head of Finance or diplomatic envoy. He'd been a shitty human being but there were lots of those everywhere; the Varia had plenty of them, although they at least recognised their own shittiness most of the time.

Federico… as a kid he'd loathed Federico, because the man was a shitty tease who unerringly found his hot buttons and punched them hard. As an adult he could grudgingly recognise that Federico had possessed an ego and self-image you could bounce rocks off due to his secure and privileged upbringing, so had thought Xanxus exploding at every little thing was ridiculous and over-sensitive. He'd been oblivious to Xanxus's insecurities and probably hadn't even noticed how much Xanxus detested him for constantly messing with him. In fact Federico had probably thought they got along great; that would explain why the man had always been inviting him along to things.

Which was incredibly ironic when Federico had been the Vongola brother with the best Intuition; clearly he'd been ignoring it where Xanxus was concerned, due to believing he knew better. Taking after his shitty father there.

Federico who'd been raised the family baby, had a knack for not getting caught, fought with a length of chain, loved dogs and was good at logistics and wringing concessions out of people, as well as somehow remembering everybody's names and family connections and what he'd talked about with them at the last party he'd seen them at. Federico who had never tried anywhere as hard as Enrico to win his father's approval, didn't blatantly defy the old fart's authority like Massimo and had actually been Vongola Heir at the time of his death; he'd have made a decent Don Vongola. A thousand miles better than Chew Toy was going to be, certainly, despite the tendency to turn up the charm every time he glimpsed a pretty female face.

Squalo had told him the Varia still didn't know who had killed Federico. Which implied they did know who'd killed the older two, but Xanxus had just nodded and not asked; he didn't really care. They were dead; knowing who'd done it wouldn't change things.

Florrie was right; people were complicated.

---

The Tuesday after his birthday was Chew Toy's seventeenth; the countdown to trash's ascension to Don Vongola was now ticking in earnest, since the old fart was unlikely to wait much more than another year. Chew Toy probably wasn't expecting it to be that soon; Japan had twenty as the age of majority, so trash likely assumed he had much more time than was actually the case. Sucked to be him; he'd either catch on or get horribly surprised come next autumn.

Xanxus was only reminded of it being trash's birthday because the old fart organised a traditional Vongola birthday party and had Chew Toy shipped over for it along with all his Guardians; forewarning from Information meant he got out of the building in time to avoid getting dragged into that mess and spent a quiet day at the Cavallone instead, going over Mafia Land paperwork with Annamaria and signing his name on things. Horse didn't know he was there, having already left for the party, and his aunt had no idea what the party was for –she didn't do politics– so nobody bothered him at all.

In retrospect, the letter he'd incinerated the previous day had probably been an invite –summons more likely– to the party. However he'd not seen it so had a valid excuse for missing the event; not that Chew Toy would have wanted him attending anyway. He'd been working even, for all that the 'work' had been setting up his retirement and next job.

On getting back to the Varia Tuesday evening he immediately grabbed his go-bag and took a short mission that some rich asshole was paying through the nose to have him do personally, which kept him busy and out of contact until the early hours of Thursday morning. Then –after a long sleep and a good meal– it was time for the meeting with the Gesso contingent.

---

Squalo noted with interest that Mothra the Mist had been left at home, as had Bunny the Sun; Scooby had however brought Gamera and Carp along with the obvious Fresco. Not that those were their real names of course, but the floral and fruity names Scooby had saddled his Guardians with weren't their real names either so it didn't matter that the Varia had added new epithets to the mix.

Thinking of the Gesso Storm as 'Gamera' and sniggering inside his head at the monster movie parallels was helping Squalo not think about his fake-memories involving that particular individual. Carp was hanging over her Sky and pouting unhappily –probably didn't want to be here– Fresco was fiddling with his cufflinks in a deliberate fashion and not looking at Boss –the Cloud clearly didn't want to be here either– and Scooby was perched on the front edge of the armchair provided, Flame wings fluttering, absently petting his Rain's hair and grinning.

It was a flat grin though, pasted on top of some compartmentalisation and a certain degree of distractedness; interesting.

"So?" Boss asked from where he was sprawled commandingly in his armchair, Lussuria standing on the opposite side of it from Squalo to mirror Gamera. There was no third Guardian present to stand for Carp, but there didn't need to be; in a fight the three Varia could take down the four Gesso easily. Especially if that fight took place on Varia land, inside Mammon's Territory.

"I was out enjoying the fresh air," Scooby began –Squalo translated that as 'poking my nose where it wasn't wanted and avoiding Miss Spook'– "when I ran into a very interesting Lightning who made a good attempt at stringing me upside down from an electricity pylon."

Tesla. Squalo had only met the man twice, but there were stories about his time as Lightning Officer. The Division had gone massively downhill since then, although it was picking up a bit in Boss's personal care.

"After a few false starts I managed to get him to talk to me rather than just attempt murder," the gadfly Sky said airily, "but he wouldn't agree to proper conversation without his boss's permission. Considering his name and the distinctly Varia attitude, here I am."

Boss snorted, lips curling up in a smirk. "I may be Varia Boss," he said lightly, "but Tesla is retired from assassination; he does electrical engineering, troubleshooting and other handyman stuff for Housekeeping. Answers to Tyrant, not to me." Well technically Tesla was also part of the Cavallone-funded side-venture, but that was commission-based so Tesla was self-employed there and not under anybody else's authority.

The mention of the retired Sky's Name made Scooby go greenish white all of a sudden; well that was interesting. Had the mad Sky fallen foul of Tyrant in some of those simulations? It seemed rather likely, all things considered. In the fake-future Squalo remembered the Vongola had only been targeted fairly late in the game, after Scooby had a vast and layered network overseas to hide himself within. If he'd done that because attempts to take out the Vongola first had led to him crossing some of Tyrant's lines without realising it… well. No wonder it had taken him so many repeats to perfect his world domination plan. Never mind the frustration of perfecting the timing so he'd have everything built and working in time so he could crush most of the Underworld by year eight, then move onto hunting the Vongola for year nine.

"How does a person go about arranging a meeting with the Head of Varia Housekeeping?" Scooby asked, recovering some of his colour; trash still looked ill though. That he was persevering regardless was curious; implied this wasn't just a whim. Or if it was, he was contrary enough to see it through to the bitter end.

Xanxus waved a hand; Squalo took that as his cue to lean over towards the bell pull and ring for service.

"Our guest would like a word with Tyrant," Boss drawled when the shift in the feel of the air indicated somebody was listening, "and drinks."

Watching Scooby watch Boss, who was smirking lazily and waiting patiently for the next stage of the show, was highly amusing for Squalo. The cracked Sky was smiling and slumped sideways with his chin propped on one hand and his ankles crossed, but one of his feet kept on twitching. Which was a fairly blatant tell of how nervous trash was.

Why exactly did Scooby want to have a 'conversation' –which could mean any number of things, layered– with Tesla? It could be pure bored mischief, a distraction and something to wave at Miss Spook to keep her ignorant of her schemes being uncovered, all the way through to the mad Sky wanting something in particular from the Lightning or recognising him from one or other of the myriad simulated timelines he remembered.

Considering that in some of those timelines Scooby had apparently been born a few decades earlier, there were all manner of possibilities.

The door opened and Squalo straightened automatically as the unmistakeable presence of the Head of Varia Housekeeping swept the room, followed by the man himself. Deceptively ageless and barely greying at the temples, Tyrant closed the door behind himself and walked silently up to the table separating the two seated Skies, setting out the drinks carried on his tray.

Xanxus immediately helped himself to the wine; Scooby however didn't touch his ice cream milkshake, eying at one might a tarantula. Freaked out that Tyrant had brought him something sweet that he actually wanted to drink as opposed to a more socially acceptable beverage? Expecting it to be poisoned? Tyrant didn't poison people; he either destroyed you with his hands or with his Flames. The man liked the personal touch.

"You had a question for my Head of Housekeeping," Boss prompted, smile vicious behind his wineglass.

The winged Sky fluttered his eyelashes. "I would like to get to know Tesla better; he insisted I ask you first."

Tyrant considered this statement. "Ask," he said softly.

Scooby smiled, eyes curving up into cheery crescents in what was clearly a deliberate effort to appear carefree. "May I please get to know Tesla better?"

"Why?"

"He's interesting!" The lunatic chirped.

Tyrant stared measuredly at Scooby until the plastic cheer had wilted significantly. "Why should I allow it?" he clarified calmly.

Going by the pause, that had not been an expected question. Well, that or Scooby had bitten his tongue on his initial answer.

"I…" the cracked Sky swallowed and began again, more quietly and surprisingly honestly, "he calls to me. I'd like to see if it goes anywhere."

Meaning Tesla had innate resonance with Scooby; the heck?! That was not what Squalo had been expecting to hear. He didn't bellow though; Tyrant wouldn't appreciate it.

"If you push your Flames on him we will be having words," the Head of Varia Housekeeping said mildly.

Scooby nodded, but didn't say anything.

"You have my permission to approach him," Tyrant decided after a long pause. "You will however respect his boundaries and rejections; any complaints will be addressed instantly." And lethally; or at least with maximum terror and discomfort inflicted, up to and including with crippling injuries. Or possibly even a temporary death, as Tyrant had done on various previous occasions to people who irritated him, killing and resuscitating his victim three or four times before finally making their demise permanent.

"I understand." That was the most honest and truthful thing Scooby has said today, which indicated that yes, he had met –and fallen foul of– Tyrant a time or two in simulation-time and found the experience educational.

"Good." Tyrant smiled ever so slightly. "Enjoy your milkshake." He left the room, closing the door behind him with a gentle click.

"Going to do as you're told?" Boss asked tauntingly, dipping his empty glass towards Scooby's untouched full one.

"It would be rude of me not to drink it after your staff have gone to so much effort to provide something that actually meets my personal preferences," the gadfly Sky replied, but his tone fell rather short of the intended mockery and landed in unease instead. His Guardians all looked a bit shaken too; Tyrant was like that.

"Yes, it would," Boss said deliberately, pouring himself some more wine and slumping back into his chair with excessively theatrical care, lightly glowing eyes boring holes in his guest.

Squalo watched the younger Sky reluctantly reach out and pick up his drink and wondered vindictively whether Scooby would throw it up later out of nerves. If so, it would serve him right.

---

Saturday started with an unexpected phone call.

"Florrie?"

"Er, nope, Chickie here," came the voice through the phone speaker, "I know it's late and short notice but can you and your pretty-boy friend make it over here for my sister's birthday? I'm trying to sort out a party she'll like and she'll like you being there."

Xanxus rolled his eyes. "I'm not dating her." Although the description of shark as his 'pretty-boy friend' could equally be 'pretty boyfriend' since the pauses there was slightly ambiguous.

"I know that! I mean, it's pretty clear she's not in love with you but she's still, like, super attached. And so are you; if she said yes to dating you'd be all over her in a hot second and you know it."

That was far too perceptive from a civilian who'd not even seen him half a dozen times.

"But you're her friend despite that and that's cool, that's really cool and you being there would really make her day, so please come to her birthday party? I've hired a room and there's going to be cake and tea and balloons and a buffet of savoury nibbles. Pleeease?"

"Who else are you inviting?" Because Florrie had said twelve guests, which meant there were another ten people coming to this thing, not including his Cloud and her sister.

"Becca and Bambi and their partners," Chickie said promptly, "and I had already sorted out for Silvia and Deborah to come over before I got the idea for a party –they're her friends from when we lived abroad– and then I'm going to ask some of her university friends, since I've nicked her phone to dig through while she's busy in the kitchen."

So the two high school friends he'd seen photos of –one married to her high school sweetheart, the other dating a nurse or possibly somebody else by now– two more of the girls he'd seen on her photo wall and another four people, possibly including some he'd met already. That was doable. He'd not given anybody connected to his Cloud his full name yet, so he could use this to debut his actual real civilian identity.

"Fine. Me and two others then," since Luss would make a terrible fuss if he wasn't allowed to come along. Bel didn't care and Mammon was far too busy enjoying themselves with the asset stripping, so they were out, and inviting non-Guardians to a civvie event was a bit much.

"Okay, three people," Chickie muttered, a pencil scratching. "The party starts at half-past one, I can give you the address and if you can, can you arrive on the actual day? Since your company owns her house so showing up early would ruin the surprise?"

"Can do," Xanxus drawled, amused despite it being before breakfast on a Saturday morning.

"Oh, and can you bring champagne or something? I'm not old enough and while Bambi's good with cocktails and mixed drinks those aren't exactly afternoon things and don't go with cake, and Florrie says you're an alcohol snob so if you get something everybody's going to like it."

Xanxus chuckled; his Cloud had probably used those exact words, too. "Sure, will do."

"Great. Brilliant! This is going to be a fantastic party!" Chickie enthused. "See you in a fortnight then!"

"Dress code?" He asked loudly before she could hang up.

"Ah, right. Erm… casual, I think? I mean, it's a surprise tea party, basically, so try to look nice without it being a suit or anything too formal."

"See you then."

"Bye!" She hung up. Xanxus briefly pondered the sanity of letting Lussuria loose on a civilian student party, then reminded himself that his Cloud's friend Bambi was very obviously a lesbian, so her other friends and associates were unlikely to be the kind of intolerant to ruin somebody else's birthday party for the sake of their own delicate sensibilities.

He was still going to take Florrie out a week after her birthday, of course; he'd promised to after all.

---

Squalo probably should have expected Springer to stop by the Varia while he was in the country, but in his defence he'd been engrossed in the logistics of moving over two hundred people and all their belongings –including various plants and pets– to the other side of the planet without anybody noticing what was going on until after the fact. Yes, Mists could do a lot to speed the process along and smooth out difficulties, but it was still a massive project. As was setting up contacts so they could go on buying food and other necessities without going through Mafia Land's rip-off marketplace; it looked like the first post-Varia business they'd be setting up was a smuggling outfit.

Good thing Squalo knew how to run one of those, what with listening to various family members at the annual reunions; he was familiar with the difficulties and the requirements and how to account for weaknesses in the supply chain. Varia Housekeeping had a wide enough network that supplying food could continue to be done through them, but with Mists being sent regularly out to move the cargo rather than relying on regular shipping methods. It was all in the planning stages so far, but he had a good feeling about it. It was even something that could be turned into milk-run missions once the kinks had been worked out, safely entrusted to Apprentices and mooks rather than having to rely on Housekeeping's Mists.

Still, having his younger apprentice show up was a nice change of pace.

"See you survived the Vongola party, brat," the Rain Officer said casually, glancing up from his paperwork as Springer settled in the chair facing his desk. "Any casualties?" Nobody had ever died at Federico's birthday parties, but there had been a few choice humiliations; Enrico's parties on the other hand had involved a body count. As had Nono's, for all that Nono usually arranged matters so at least one person who had committed actual crimes against the Vongola was tapped as a proxy gift-bringer. Massimo and Xanxus had both preferred to avoid all that nonsense entirely; Massimo, being an adult, had done so far more successfully. Xanxus's ninth birthday party wasn't quite an Alliance-wide horror story, as his Sky had not been ignorant of what went on at Vongola birthday parties by that point, but deciding who got to live and who was going to die at nine based on the sole criteria of 'how much do I like this gift' was deeply unsettling when you knew nothing else about the gift-giver's proxy. Not even relevant things such as whether any of them had actually committed crimes against the Vongola or if it was just that the Don fancied their wife or daughter and wanted them either dead or too cowed to protest, so had deliberately sent them with a mediocre gift.

It was one of those things that got increasingly horrifying in retrospect.

His apprentice blinked vaguely at him. "I hadn't realised 'the lowest scoring person dies' was a real thing the Vongola did," the teenager said quietly. "I thought it was just Reborn messing with us. I mean, nobody actually died after that party despite Lambo only getting one point. But then Ganache showed up last month to let us know Tsuna was getting a traditional Vongola birthday party for his seventeenth and we had to have appropriate gifts ready so as not to put Tsuna in a tight spot, and the party last week…" he trailed off. "It was all lower-ranking people delivering gifts from Dons and House Heads. They were all terrified; only Dino came in person."

"How did Chew Toy take it?" Clearly he hadn't embarrassed himself too badly, or else the Rain Officer would have heard about it already.

Springer smiled, the expression vaguely proud. "He gave every single gift the exact same score; fifty points. So either everybody won or everybody lost, so nobody got a prize and nobody died."

Squalo grinned; so trash was finally using his brain then. "Sneaky." Actually demonstrating some intelligent thought too, getting around the rules like that.

"Nono mentioned Xanxus was invited, so I said I'd ask why he hadn't showed when I visited," Springer added. "Is he around?"

"He is," Squalo agreed, "but he didn't show because he didn't get an invite." Well not that anybody could prove; certainly nobody had seen an invite. That Boss had incinerated an envelope from Don Vongola in front of him was beside the point. After all, it could just have easily have been a birthday card that Boss had burnt, and the actual invite really had gone astray somewhere.

"Get lost in the post?" That gleam in his Apprentice's eye made it clear he suspected the 'loss' had been strategic. "I think Tsuna might actually have had a breakdown if Xanxus had showed up at his birthday party. Or even just sent a gift with one of you guys."

"All turned out for the best then," Squalo said briskly. "How're you managing at detecting Flames and working without your Ring?"

"Dad says I've improved," Springer said brightly, "and so does Chrome, but I don't think I'm anywhere good enough yet."

"Voi, of course you won't be," Squalo dismissed, "it takes years to get genuinely good at this; I've been working on it for over a decade now. Yes, talent helps, but hard work's what matters most. Keep working and you'll keep improving; let me finish up here and we'll head downstairs so you can show me where you've got to. There are more useful precision exercises I can teach you once you've reached a certain level of competence; learning's incremental after all, and there are different ways to refine your skills depending on what you actually want to achieve." Squalo would be passing on his own personal exercises, since they gave him the skills appropriate for a Right Hand and Springer would need those same skills.

"Thanks, sempai," the brat said cheerfully. "I've been practicing my English too."

"I can tell." His Apprentice's accent was more coherent and he was putting the stress on the right parts of the words now; his sentence structure was also much better. "Now shut up and let me finish." He needed to go through the scheduling for the move, to make sure none of the things being left until last required any of the items being taken away first.

---

"Voi, you're making decent progress," Squalo ruled eventually, nudging his prone and wheezing apprentice in the gut with his foot. "None of that; on your feet, trash."

"Chased me fifteen kilometres around the grounds, sempai," Springer gasped, but he did stagger to his feet, arms and legs trembling with the effort of staying upright. "At least."

It had been more like thirty kilometres actually, all up and down the hill; brat hadn't done so badly. "Need to work on your endurance," Squalo said firmly; "can't protect your Sky if you can't keep up."

"Yes sempai." The seventeen-year-old swayed.

"Voi, that's enough for today," Squalo decided; they could work on Flame control while exhausted another time. Today had been his first time really pushing brat's limits, so he knew where they were and how his skills deteriorated when he was exhausted. "Take a cold shower, then run a hot bath; you'll be all aches and pains tomorrow otherwise." He'd have to keep an eye on Springer to make sure he didn't fall asleep in the tub after this. Sort out a generous meal from Housekeeping too; he'd need the protein to rebuild his muscles.

Springer nodded, took a tentative step towards down the hill and stumbled; rolling his eyes, Squalo caught the brat and hefted him over his shoulder. "Voi, do you even know your limits?" He complained; he'd not thought he'd gone that far but clearly he had. "You could have said you were running on fumes; I'm teaching you, not killing you."

"Sorry sempai," brat wheezed.

"Are you going to remember your limits next time and tell me when you hit them?" Squalo demanded, gently nudging his student's head with his elbow.

"Yes, sempai."

"Good." There was no point in working yourself to breaking point in training; it meant you needed longer to recover and you didn't progress in the meantime. Training was working with your limits; emergencies was when you disregarded them. "I'm carrying you back to my office and dumping you in the shower; wash sitting down so you don't fall over." Which was something various Varia had done; it was a depressingly common source of concussions as well as the occasional death, especially in September.

Springer groaned something that was probably intended to be agreement; rolling his eyes, Squalo set off down the hill. He was going to set his student a lot more endurance training after this, so he didn't keel over before he'd even run a marathon and learned to pace himself. He should also teach Springer to augment his strength with Flames, but that could wait until brat's endurance was better, so he didn't cheat. He wasn't about to enable bad habits like that in his student.

---

After a wash, quarter of an hour in a hot bath and a generous meal of baked fish with roast vegetables Springer was yawning and blinking sleepily, but seemed to have something on his mind he wanted to address before taking a nap.

"Spit it out then, voi."

His student looked thoughtfully at him. "Tsuna says you hate him," Springer said mildly.

"Hate's a strong word," Squalo deflected; he'd never cared about or believed in Chew Toy enough to hate him until recently. "I never liked him and I know he's going to ruin everything my Family's spent generations building alongside the Vongola." He hadn't hated the trash until having to spend all that time in bed after his heart transplant; that was when it had become personal. Chew Toy crippling the Varia with his ignorance and presumed moral high ground had just made the personal loathing easier to justify.

"You do hate him," Springer noted.

"Voi! So what?" It wasn't like he was letting it interfere with his work.

"I guess if somebody nearly got me killed and then trashed my career without even noticing I'd hate them too," the irritating brat mused. "Especially if they very obviously didn't care about either and were instead focused on getting what they wanted out of both situations."

Brat's tone was light and easy but the subtext was anything but. "Voi, are you talking about Chew Toy or Reborn?"

Springer laughed, light and fake and bitter. "I guess Reborn being around constantly for the past four years means he's become Tsuna's main role-model. I mean, it's not like there are any other adults in his life motivating him to do better."

One more reason why putting Chew Toy in charge of the Vongola was a profoundly shitty idea; Reborn was a freelancer, not a leader, and one of the mean but occasionally true things said about freelancers was that they were freelance because nobody else could stand working with them for more than a few weeks at a time.

"Tsuna at least cares that you hate him," the younger Rain continued pensively. "He's paying a lot more attention to what people are saying now and looking in the Vongola's records for details of decisions made by past dons and how they worked out. He was asking various people about how they would get Flame tutoring if they needed it during his birthday and scribbling down notes afterwards; I told him you were tutoring me officially." Springer paused to yawn. "I also told him what you said about most people keeping it in the family, and adoption. He wanted to know why the Vongola only trains Guardian candidates."

"It's cheaper and easier," Squalo said succinctly. "Vongola traditions say each Guardian needs a specific skill set –there's that ridiculous poem I'm sure you've heard that Primo supposedly wrote– so Vongola tutors only need to train those specific skills into their students. Training non-Guardians would mean tailoring lessons to their students' personal aptitudes and ambitions, which takes more time and effort and would mean hiring more teachers. Then arranging Vongola employment for all those people afterwards, so they can use their skills to benefit the Family; there are already slots in the infrastructure where Guardian-trained people can fit." As medics, meat-shields, negotiators, trailblazers, secrecy specialists and roving quality control. Personal lack of aptitude or interest be damned.

The Tenth Vongola Rain Guardian nodded. "That makes more sense than what Nougat said."

"Voi, want a sensible perspective, ask Ganache." Ganache was the youngest and most grounded in the present of Nono's Guardians, largely because he was a Sunny Lightning and everybody ignored him on the basis that Lightnings were meat-shields. Never mind that Ganache had been raised a Sun –had even started in Sun-style Guardian training alongside Luss– and only switched to Lightning training as a teenager shortly after Activating his Flames. He heard a lot; didn't talk a lot, but a fellow Vongola Guardian would probably be enough to get him to loosen his tongue.

"Thanks sempai, I will." Another yawn.

"Vooi, take a nap; you're making me tired just looking at you."

"You don't mind me borrowing your sofa, sempai?"

"If I minded I'd have kicked you out by now," Squalo grumbled. "Drop off already so I can get on with the paperwork."

His apprentice chuckled and closed his eyes, relaxing back into the cushions. Squalo waited ten minutes, by which point brat's breathing had deepened and evened out, then settled behind his desk and pulled out the logistics forms again. Even if Chew Toy was finally making an effort to be slightly less of a dead weight, it was far too late for it to make a meaningful difference to the Varia's plans.

---

Xanxus was vetting missions –read 'deciding which ones the Varia would be taking on given the imposed limits'– and not enjoying it when there was a knock on his office door and a Sun stuck their head inside.

"Boss, the Don Cavallone to see you on a family matter."

Welcoming the distraction, the Sky abandoned his paperwork and headed downstairs. Horse was in the small guest study, along with… two Superbi. So his little brother had managed to form a few bonds; good to know. That he hadn't brought his Right Hand was interesting though; something horse wanted to keep secret perhaps?

"Hi Xanxus," Dino said once he was in the room and had closed the door behind him. "I think you already know Dingo and Caretta."

"Vaguely," the Varia Boss drawled; Dingo he knew better than Caretta, because Dingo was Aunt Volpe's oldest and therefore part of what the Superbi called his 'closer cousins,' along with Sciacallo, Iena, Orsina, Ursula, their various siblings and all his cat-named cousins. Plus the shark and his fellow fishy-named relatives, of course; coming up on two-dozen people vaguely his age in total and that was just the ones within two or three degrees of him.

Caretta he had a feeling was one of Testudo's kids; there was a certain resemblance. Of course in a family as close-knit as the Superbi there was always a certain resemblance, but this one was more distinct than usual. She was a Sun, like Testudo, had a lot of him in the shape of her face and shoulders, and also had that keen feel that Suns got when their Flames were more focused on the intellectual than the physical.

Physical Suns might throw themselves into things without thought and cause all kinds of mess, but intellectual Suns frequently got themselves into even stickier situations because they had taken the time to think things through and consider the possibilities. Generally entirely on purpose, because they were bored; Reborn was by no means atypical in that respect.

"Hi there cousin," Dingo drawled as Caretta wiggled her fingers at him without looking up from her psychology textbook.

"Cousins, horse," Xanxus said amusedly, settling himself comfortably in the free armchair. "What's the occasion?"

"I thought I should let you know I've found our last missing sibling from that family tree you sorted out," Dino shared. "He's thirty-one and paraplegic; a traffic accident when he was fifteen. His adopted family are taking good care of him, but he wants to be more independent so I'm arranging a house. He lives well outside Alliance territory so I'm keeping everything quiet and operating through reasonably official channels." Horse opened his mouth to continue, then stuttered to a halt when a cat appeared from under the heavy curtains by the window and leapt proprietorially into his lap, yowling demandingly.

Dino offered the cat his hand, then as it settled started petting it behind the ears, prompting loud purring.

"You were saying?" Xanxus asked, amused. Going by the silver coat and loud vocalisations this was Banshee, who was way out on the imperiously intelligent end even for a Varia cat. She was also one of the few who looked completely normal; most of the Varia's cats were very obviously hybridised with non-domestic felines, being too big, too exotic and not nearly friendly enough to pass.

"He's called Giacomo and he's a Sky –an Active Sky even, for all he's never manifested it externally and probably never will– and he's got a full set of Guardians and a girlfriend," horse continued, "and his Guardians were already planning on buying a house together so he could live with them, so my providing one out of 'family feeling' is something he's not objecting to. In fact I think he likes the idea of it being his house, so he feels less of a burden. Having a house might also prompt him to propose to his girlfriend, but I'm unsure of the details there; I do know he has a job –he writes articles for a local newspaper– and one of his Guardians deliberately trained as a carer in order to offer qualified domestic help, so he's unlikely to struggle."

"Putting extra security on the house," Xanxus assumed; a Sky was a Sky and Active Skies were fairly visible, for all that a disabled and largely house-bound Sky would manage to stay under the radar better than most.

"Of course; with our private security firm even," Dino confirmed. "He's not got much in the way of reserves, so it's most obvious in the way his friends and adoptive family react to him; the Guardian with carer training is his adoptive brother, a Latent Lightning and completely thoughtlessly devoted in a way that most civilians would consider unhealthy." His hand moved to scratch Banshee under her chin. "I've also found all the women our father seduced and handed over the last of the photographs, as well as made a note of which one was Giacomo's mother, in case he's ever curious. She was sixteen like your mother; I'm not surprised she gave him up for adoption."

It was a little odd that Giacomo's mother had succeeded in giving her son up for adoption; Sky babies were anecdotally much harder to relinquish, since even when Latent their Flames predisposed them towards forming strong bonds with those closest to them. Well maybe she'd been depressed or something; it happened and family pressure was a hell of a thing.

"Good to hear," Xanxus said. "Good to see you're finally bonding too, pony."

His little brother's complaint of "Xanxus!" was overlaid with Dingo sniggering and Caretta's loud snort; both Superbi would take the nickname and run with it, which would be funny.

"I'm tempted to withhold your birthday present after that," horse sighed, "but I like to think I'm a better person than you are." He reached back and accepted the gift bag Caretta handed to him. "Here, happy belated birthday you complete asshole."

"Thank you," Xanxus rumbled, accepting the bag and opening the presents right away. There was a selection of uncut but high quality gemstones, a bar of his favourite chocolate and a dozen cloth patches marked with the Cavallone crest.

The patches were clearly intended to go on his Varia jackets and coats after he retired and had to take the official insignia off. That was something he'd not really thought about but was very touched by, because Dino clearly had thought about it and had taken steps to make sure there was no doubt where he belonged.

"Thanks," he said shortly, sliding the various gifts into his jacket pockets.

"You're very welcome Xanxus," Dino said lightly, looking rather like a Bond villain with his knowing smirk and lap full of silver-and-white longhair cat. "Try to visit slightly more often, if you would? You are now officially the 'cool' cousin and both Denise and Demetrio want to do things with you."

That was not what he'd been expecting, but he could roll with it. "Work permitting." A fairly feeble excuse considering the restrictions on missions, but it would give him some thinking space and time to call Florrie so he could get his feelings straight.

"Of course," his annoying little brother agreed with a knowing grin, getting to his feet and setting Banshee on the floor, where she twined around his calves and rubbed her head vigorously against his knees. "I'll see you soon then."

"Don't trip down the steps on your way out," Xanxus drawled meanly after him, taking great satisfaction in the way Dino's ears went red as he walked past his chair and through the door.

---

Squalo had noticed a few errors and was most of his way through adjusting the furniture shipping order so kitchen appliances were split with half going in the first quarter and half at the very end, with a note in red specifying that at least a third of the fridges and hot plates had to be included in the 'going last' shipment, when his phone rang.

"Varia Rain Officer speaking," he said briskly, most of his attention on ensuring that Boss's furniture would be shipped to Mafia Land on the solstice. If Boss ended up staying later than that he'd crash in Squalo's bed, but most likely he was going to be out of the country before the morning after the Vongola Solstice Ball.

"Ah Squalo, I seem to have accidentally picked up a cat."

Squalo side-eyed the phone. "Voi, why's that my problem, Bronco?"

"It's a Varia cat," Dino said, "and it's –ow!– it refuses to go back into the car."

Squalo sighed, glancing over at Springer to make sure he was still asleep then pulling up a sound-muffling Rain-layer to ensure he wouldn't disturb his student. "Describe the cat."

"Silver-grey with a white chest and feet, long fur, not as big as most of the cats I've seen wandering around the Varia," Dino said, "and loud." There was promptly a very piercing feline wail, justifying the latter comment entirely.

"Green eyes, long tail, regular cat-sized body, ear tufts, has this look that says she thinks you're a complete moron?"

A startled pause. "Yes," Dino admitted cautiously.

"That's Banshee," Squalo said confidently. "I'll send somebody over with her basket and other shit."

"What? Squalo no I can't keep her!"

"People don't 'keep' cats, voi," the Rain Officer said dryly; "people are graced with the presence of cats. Banshee has decided you are worthy of her patronage; suck up and deal." Banshee was smart enough to make her own way back to the Cavallone even if removed, so there was no point in trying to make her leave. It wouldn't work, she'd be pissed off and everybody involved would get both scratched and deafened. If she wanted Bronco as her human minion then the easiest thing to do was let her get on with things. "Don't worry, she's very smart; if she wants anything, you'll know." Banshee was not even slightly shy about expressing her desires.

"That sounds like a Superbi Family metaphor I probably shouldn't look too deeply into."

Squalo rolled his eyes, amused despite himself. "Vooi! She's a good cat. Not randomly destructive when she's bored and very affectionate. She's fixed too, so you won't have any sudden kitten problems. If you decide you actually want kittens though get in touch; the fixing's a Mist-trick, so we can temporarily reverse it." What else should Dino know… "Housekeeping have her family tree somewhere, so you can know what she's a mix of if you're interested." There was a quartet of people who were responsible for all Varia animal husbandry, which included meticulously updating the cat family trees whenever Tyrant gave his permission to temporarily lift the Mist-fixing on a few cats to produce litters.

"That would be very helpful, thank you," Bronco said distantly. "What do I do with a cat?"

"You don't; you go along with what the cat wants to do with you." Didn't everybody know that? "Enjoy yourself." Squalo hung up.

Banshee was definitely a very smart cat, to have noticed already that things were changing at the Varia and that it was a good time to move on. Most of the genuinely big cats were getting taken with them –there wasn't anywhere else they could safely be left– but the rest were getting adopted locally by retired Varia, or left to fend for themselves in the case of the stable cats, which were not at all domesticated and kept the outbuildings aggressively pest-free.

Squalo made a note of what he'd promised Bronco before going back to the logistical paperwork. Well, at least that was one less cat to worry about.