Many thanks to Leona-Aurelia & AquaticMoose for beta-reading this chapter.
In this fic, USA doesn't exist; in its stead, the American continent comprises of a single country called 'Britannia', with Pendragon as its capital city. Also, the mountain background of Pendragon seems to be geographically corresponding to that of Phoenix, Arizona. Yes, readers, this is a crossover and all the info regarding the country's past regents derive from Code Geass Wiki. Several topographical names are my invention, but they are all based on the names of the actual places related to the Arthurian Legend.
Katara (a.k.a. suwaiya, kaţţāri, katyaar, kaţāra or kataar) = a Hindi push dagger characterised by its H-shaped horizontal hand grip, which results in the blade of the sword sitting above the user's knuckles
Kappa = the Japanese freshwater imp who love cucumber and typically have dark green skin
Mizuchi = Japanese water dragon
Amefurikozou = rainfall kid, a weather spirit with the power to make the rain fall
Suijin = Shinto water deity
Ame-warashi = the Japanese rain sprite
Shinai = a blunt-edged bamboo sword used for practice and competition in kendo
Mamuthones = in the Mammoiada Village, Italy, men who transform into ibexes during the night
Janas = in the mountains of Supramonte, Italy, female fairies who come out in their human form at night, while disguised as dragonflies during the day
Cloud seeding = intentional weather modification to change the amount or type of precipitation falling from clouds, by dispersing shells or rockets containing silver iodide particles, salts and dry ice into the air that serve as cloud condensation or ice nuclei, which alter the microphysical processes within the cloud; the calculated amount of icy particles freeze drops in the clouds, make the drops continue growing and eventually fall out of the clouds (in other words, it can increase / decrease rain, snow or hail)
Fext = a mythical undead creature in Slavic mythology who is said to be invulnerable unless shot by glass bullets
Tabouret = a low stool in the shape of a drum
Dacquoise = a dessert cake made with layers of almond and hazelnut meringue and whipped cream or buttercream
'Barallon, that won't do! Remember, we live in the days when something more than brute strength counts as a requisite in combats,' rebuked the fight instructor, her long, midnight blue hair fluttering behind her as she swept past the group of fourth year students of Exorcism Studies.
These students had been paired for sparring purpose and she hopped from one group to another, correcting their techniques. The spars were normally interdepartmental; however, today, there was a staff meeting between the Heads of Departments, who also happened to be the fighting instructors of the respective divisions. The lack of staff problem resulted in the combined training of the seven divisions under the supervision of one teacher.
It was one of those scalding, dog days—the last few days before autumn started—and the sun-baked training ground was scorching under their boots. Some students gazed longingly to seek shelter under the encumbrances of foliage of the ancient cypresses at the edge of the enchanted forest surrounding the Namimori Castle.
Eyes seeking left and right, Lal Mirch resumed her inspection on other students. 'And Shokirov, your guard is too high; you're giving Ghannouchi a chance to strike your bowel.'
The boy with a cornrows haircut known as Shokirov lowered his guard as instructed, but his teacher's attention had already been diverted somewhere else.
'What's with that half-arsed attack, Sawada?!' With that, she swooped down and whacked Tsuna in the back of the head. Still clutching at his stomach, the poor boy mumbled a weak apology. Yet, she continued to berate him, 'You actually let Miura knee you in the gut; what were you thinking?!'
'B-but sensei … she's a girl.'
Hearing this, Lal gripped Tsuna's collar and yelled, 'FUCK OFF!'
Many students halted their spars, directing their eyes towards the combat instructor. As much as they knew of her aggressive nature, should a teacher be tolerated for cursing around students? She, too, realised this a few seconds after the deed was done. Her blazing eyes calmed down and her voice assumed a quieter tone when she spoke next, 'Armed soldiers ought not attack civilians, especially women, elderly and children. But once a woman makes her choice to fight alongside men, they are not to be treated as some petty dolls placed upon a shelf! Rather than acknowledging your sister-in-arms' efforts, you insult her with not fighting her with your best.'
Guilt was not the only thing there was in Tsuna's expression; hesitation was in it, too. How could he attack Miura Haru with a more serious approach? She was, after all, the best friend of Sasagawa Kyoko—the girl with whom he had secretly been infatuated with for over two years now. Making Kyoko hate him because he inflicted an injury upon her best friend was definitely not on Tsuna's list. Even now Kyoko cast a rather worried look over Ryouhei's shoulder, as her overprotective brother wouldn't let her pair up with anyone else to keep her out of harm's way.
'You too, Sasagawa Ryouhei,' Lal Mirch's sharp look was directed to the pair next to Tsuna. 'If you hold back your power too much out of fear of injuring your precious little sister, she can never develop the necessary abilities to become an excellent exorcist.'
At this reproach, Ryouhei fidgeted, but Kyoko assured him, 'Onii-san, I'm fine. Don't hesitate to attack me with all you've got.'
'Everyone, resume your spars!' ordered the teacher.
Within seconds, the bone-jarring scraping of metals lacerated the still air. Students were back to facing each other. None of these combatants, however, took the battle as seriously as Hibari did. Pratibha Varghese came in toward his side, but hit only air. Her rhenium katara swung low to take out his leg, but he deflected it towards the ground. She intended to pull away, but Hibari took her under the chin and shoved her back so hard she was thrown off her feet and hit the chain-link fence three yards behind her.
The prefect gave her five seconds of reprieve by ambling leisurely towards her. When he was six feet away, he asked, 'Can you stand up?'
Varghese held onto the diamond lattice of the fence for support and slowly rose to her feet. 'I think so.'
'Let's continue then.'
She groaned, her downturned eyes sought him pleadingly. 'Can't you accept my white flag?'
'Haven't you noticed that sensei has not issued the instruction to cease?' he answered with a tone of indifference.
'But this is pointless,' she whined, 'We both know I can never beat you. Why don't you go find someone who can match you in strength?'
'All students have been paired up; there's no one left.' He lunged at her, preparing to strike. The Hindi girl closed her eyes and held her weapon in front of her face for the only form of protection she could think of.
'Ku fu fu fu. That's no longer the case, Mr Namimori Disciplinary Committee Chairman. Now that my sparring partner is out of action, I shall be delighted to deliver you a similar ending.' The baritone timbre was mellow, yet derisive—much too derisive for Hibari's liking. Varghese reopened her eyes because she wanted to know who had spoken, and encountered a trident blocking the tonfa that nearly crushed her bones.
'Rokudou Mukuro,' hissed the skylark, voice consumed with pure hatred. There was something, something about this boy that shared the common trait as the living dead—the mga busaw that had nearly devoured him and the draugen that had cornered him to kill his teacher and classmates. The illusionist's presence alone sufficed to disconcert him.
A few metres behind Mukuro, Maxime De Clercq was staring into space. Seeing that the Belgian boy suffered no noticeable physical damage, Hibari instantly suspected that Mukuro had fiddled with his victim's mind. In fact, at this stage, it would no longer be a surprise if De Clercq were to claim that he had been a hamster. The absence of noise from the illusionist's combat was likely to be the reason the fight instructor had not discovered anything wrong with De Clercq amidst the plurality of students.
Hibari's tonfa slashed the new opponent as soon as Varghese scurried out of the way. Mukuro's tantalum trident blocked, blocked again, and nearly missed blocking the third assault before he had a chance to thrust his trident forward. Hibari raised his tonfa in time to parry the blow. Sneering at Hibari, Mukuro glided forward with the fluidity of water as he came towards him. However, true to his reputation, Hibari Kyouya was not an opponent to be trifled with.
A tremor of excitement rippled through the crowd, who neglected their own spars and turned their attention to Hibari and Mukuro's fight. Hibari had to fall back a step; his tonfa barely came up in time to save his neck. With a flicker of devilry in his eyes, Mukuro lunged again, taking the advantage of the longer range of his weapon to knock one of Hibari's tonfas out of the prefect's hands.
'Enough!'
At the sound of Lal Mirch's voice, the whole class stopped moving. Leon the chameleon—Reborn's familiar—appeared next to the teacher, bearing a piece of paper. After reading the note, she announced, 'Sawada Tsunayoshi, Gokudera Hayato, Yamamoto Takeshi, Lambo Bovino, Sasagawa Ryouhei, Hibari Kyouya, Rokudou Mukuro. The seven students whose names I've just mentioned are expected in the headmaster's office.'
###
Earlier, in the room below the office, a staff meeting had been taking place.
'I've received a word from Byakuran,' Reborn began. A white envelope with unsealed flap, embossed with the Vongola Coat of Arms in gold foil, lay next to his elbow on the large, heptagonal table. The window behind his seat was left open, allowing the afternoon breeze to caress his exposed nape.
'Headmaster of the Millefiore?' hissed Verde, the Head Department of the Thunder Section. Millefiore, a.k.a. the Vongola Academy of Exorcism, American Branch, was said to be the strongest of all the Vongola Academy of Exorcism branches worldwide.
The blue pacifier hanging from Colonello's neck glowed faintly, as it always did when its owner was in a state of agitation. The Head of Department of the Rain Section voiced his concern, 'Hey, what does he want?'
To this, Reborn interlocked his hands and rested his chin upon the twines of his fingers. 'Staff and Student Exchange Programme.'
'Oh, shit!' Skull swore as his palm slapped his forehead, his purple Cloud Pacifier rattling slightly against the metal button of his shirt. 'It has been ten years already since our last exchange with the American branch.'
In order to perpetuate the good relationship between one branch and another, every year, seven students—one to represent each element—accompanied by one supervisor, who was usually the head of a department, would be selected to experience studying in another branch for three months. Given there were five branches of Vongola Academy in the five continents, each two schools were bound to come to the same turn every decade.
'Dammit, I swear I won't let them laugh at our face again this year, even if that's the last thing I do!' Colonello fisted the air so enthusiastically that he rose from his seat.
'It's not going to be easy.' Fon threw his braided hair behind his shoulder, and then his fingers came together before his mouth, crossing themselves together. 'Those Millefiore candidates aren't called the best for nothing. The Australian and African branches have been eager to overtake those Americans, but they have never succeeded during the past two centuries. Not. Even. Once.'
'Yes, even the Central Branch in Europe acknowledges America's might. The Varia! Can you believe it?' said Skull.
At the mention of 'Varia', the Head of the Department of the Mist Section twitched a little. Viper had once joined the group of elite exorcists under the code name 'Mammon' and parted from his ex-colleagues with neither good nor bad terms. His replacement, a genius youngster who was reputed to be obsessed with anuran lore, was quite well received by the rest of the team.
Headmaster Reborn cleared his throat, which caused the off-topic squabbling to cease. 'We all share Colonello's sentiment, but we need to be realistic.'
'Yeah, realistic,' Skull echoed sarcastically. 'We should start by teaching our students not to make complete idiots of themselves too damn much.'
'Hey, hey, Skull, aren't you being way too pessimistic? Namimori students aren't that pathetic!' protested the Rain Arcoballeno.
Verde tapped some buttons of his laptop in rapid successions, and then sighed. 'According to my statistics, none of our final year students exceeds the standard.'
'But no rule states that the selected exchange students are necessarily from the final year,' Mischief gleamed in Reborn's eyes as he made his point.
A silent apprehension made its way across the meeting room. In the past, they had always appointed senior students in the assumption that they possessed the most knowledge and experience. Yet, this year, the headmaster seemed to aim for students with promising potentials rather than those with a set limit, regardless of their length of education.
Fon made a low humming noise before covering his tiny mouth with the sleeves of his red cheongsam. 'In that case, I propose that Gokudera Hayato shall represent the Storm Section.'
His initiative was quickly followed by the other Head of Departments. Colonello chose Yamamoto Takeshi for the Rain Section; Reborn, Sasagawa Ryouhei for the Sun Section; Verde, Lambo Bovino for the Thunder Section; Skull, Hibari Kyouya for the Cloud Section; and Viper, Rokudou Mukuro for the Mist Section.
'The "generation of miracle", eh?' remarked Viper.
The other Arcobaleni smirked. Those who knew about the students' survival against the draugerne five years prior would knew that this term might was not an exaggeration. All those students were currently in their third year of Advanced Exorcism.
Reborn peered at the other end of the table and spoke, rather loudly, 'As for the Sky Section, I trust you will favour Sawada Tsunayoshi, Dino?'
The golden-haired deputy of the Head of Department for the Sky Section snapped his eyes open. 'Huh? O-oh … yeah, sure.'
'I don't recall aguani being nocturnal.'
'No, of course not. I stayed up late last night because I had to mark a pile of students' essays.' Dino quickly wiped the traces of saliva from his chin. As he did so, Reborn noticed a fresh cut on Dino's palm.
'A poor excuse for sleeping so soundly during staff meeting in such a broad daylight.' A knowing peer accompanied the headmaster's reply. As much as he detected no lie in the teacher's words, that didn't mean Dino couldn't start the essay marking at earlier time. Instead, the aguano had spent his evenings to train a certain wild skylark.
Dino fiddled his fingers, but dared not talk back. Reborn had always been—and would remain—his worst nightmare.
'Still, even with such a lamentable conduct, no one has exceeded your graduation exam's score for the past four hundred years…' Reborn drawled, but Dino gulped; the aguano didn't like where this conversation was going.
'… which thus leaves us with no reason for not choosing you as the supervisor of the seven students who would be sent to Millefiore in September,' Reborn concluded with a triumphant grin.
###
Nearly all students from the Sky Division, as well as several more from other divisions, were upset that the temporary combat instructor was the one to go. Some even petitioned to have their classes cancelled so that they could see Dino off at the airport.
The Millefiore guide sent to pick up Dino, Romario and the seven students was a man in his late thirties with hazel eyes, hawk nose and hairy arms. He cheerfully waved the moment he caught sight of Dino and the seven students emerging from the Live Animal Border Inspection Post exit—because Enzo the turtle had to be checked. They lumbered to the parking lot outside the arrival hall of the airport and climbed into the designated van.
The guide took his seat next to the driver. It seemed that this guide picked up too much pirate's accent from stereotypical movies, making his speech more difficult to comprehend for the majority of the Namimori students, whose English aptitude were so-so. When Lambo mentioned this, the guide blinked.
The next second, his chevron moustache turned into chinstrap beard, his height grew ten inches taller, his hawk nose remoulded itself into a turned-up one, his rust-coloured hair became white. To top it all, now he talked like a seventy-year-old Shakespearean theatregoer. 'Good morrow, ye disciples from a faraway land!'
Six out of seven exchange students stared at the guide wide-eyed. Only Lambo was calm enough to comment, 'Has it ever occurred to you that your companions may mistake you for a stalker who invites yourself to their group and then strike you, just because you shape-shift without prior warning?'
The guide's droopy eyes twinkled, but then, he merrily announced, 'A-ha! One of my kind; I can sense it in your aura. You're no ordinary child. In fact, I doubt that this appearance of yours corresponds with your real age.'
'Yeah, yeah, but seriously, cut that English from four or five hundred years ago crap. It drives us nuts.'
He smiled and made a bow, just as a circus ringleader would do at the end of a much-applauded performance. 'Aðalbjörg Hafsteinsdóttir, at your service.'
Dino asked, 'Isn't that an Icelandic female name?'
'Yes,' confirmed the guide, 'That's my actual gender and nationality.'
'EH?! Changing to the extreme you go there!' exclaimed Ryouhei in thickly Japanese-accented English.
'Why, thank you.' The guide evinced a proud smile while guessing that the foreign student probably meant to say: 'WHAT?! Such extreme changeovers you've got there!'
Sweat dropped from the side of Dino's forehead, for he had not expected any of the exchange students' linguistic skills to be this bad. Even so, he then comforted himself with the thought that at least they were trying their best to speak rather than abstaining themselves from communicating in English.
'But aren't you tired changing from one form to another? I mean, doesn't shape-shifting … uh … consume—what is it called in English … ah, yes—spiritual energy?' Yamamoto asked, taking his sweet time to convert the words into English from Japanese—the level of English lessons in Japanese middle schools could help only that much.
'That's quite true with the case of most other shape-shifters. In my case, unfortunately, my form automatically changes every few minutes. In the eyes of those who don't know me, this trait sure looks like a show off, but if I want to stop it, I have to do it by deliberation and control my spiritual energy—which is even more painstakingly exhausting.'
Like any other Vongola property, the van looked like an ordinary vehicle from the outside, but its interior hood was illustrated with mythical subject. As schemed by the trickster deity, Inktomi, a man named Tokahe brought his kith and kin from below ground to populate the earth. Exceptionally well-made down to last detail, the vinyl sticker was of meticulous execution and showed the characteristic grace and vigour of Vongola's style. Its depiction of the bumpy rocks of the Wind Cave in the Black Hills, from which the thronging humans emerged, couldn't get more realistic.
Nevertheless, what pleased the students most was the portable mini fridge that hosted a wide range of refreshments to soothe their parched throats. Even so, Lambo yawped, 'Ugh, how come you don't have any milk?!'
'Lambo!' Tsuna reprimanded the Thunder exorcist-in-training, well aware that this was a mere whim to embarrass the Britannian guide; the Afro boy always opted for grape juice whenever opportunity presented itself.
'Well, most teenagers nowadays prefer carbonated drinks or juices,' answered Hafsteinsdóttir with an apologetic smile.
Even as he spoke, the guide's form changed again. This time, he had a soul patch beard, was reduced fifteen inches shorter and two decades younger than his previous form. Even his ethnicity changed into African, complete with a Nubian nose and thick lips. With the distinctive accent of a rapper, he started a narration of the American socio-culture.
'As you all have been aware of, the whole American Continent is the expanse of a single country called the 'Holy Britannian Empire'. It traces its cultural origins back to the attempted invasion of the British Isles by Julius Caesar in 55 BC, which was fended off by the local Celtic tribes under the leadership of King Eowyn—the antecedent of the imperial family.
The marking of our history started from the failure of the American Revolutionary War two and a half centuries ago, which is known as "Washington's Rebellion", where George Washington and the Continental Army suffered a crippling defeat at the battle of Yorktown, at which point control of the American colonies by Britannia was assured.
As the Age of Revolutions reached its peak, numerous European monarchies were overthrown. A decisive victory at the Battle of Trafalgar granted Napoleon access to invade the British Isles and occupy London. Queen Elizabeth III, who died childless, nominated Ricardo von Britannia as her successor on her deathbed.
By the end of the Napoleonic Wars, the defeated remains of the absolutist aristocracy of the British Isles had then retreated to their colonial holdings in America following the loss of their original homeland. They embraced a national ethos of revanchism, which thus resulting in Holy Britannian Empire, while descending from the British Empire but geographically occupied the American continent.
After the passing of the ninety-ninth emperor, Lelouch vi Britannia, our government has evolved from absolute into constitutional monarchy. The Upper House is the House of Lords, which represents the interests of the aristocrats, while the Lower House is the Senate, and there are also State Legislatures from which Senators may be drawn. At present, the reigning ruler is Empress Nunnally vi Britannia, though the majority of the political diplomacy lies in the hands of the Prime Minister, Prince Schneizel el Britannia.'
Thankfully, the guide didn't miss the exchange students' yawns. He grinned and immediately changed the topic from history to places of interest, 'Let's see … the most famous tourist attractions in this country are Disneyland and the Universal Studio, but they are not located on our route. Ah, but Saint Darwin's Park is!'
'Saint? Is this a different Darwin from the one who came up with the Theory of Evolution?' asked Tsuna.
'No, no.' Hafsteinsdóttir smiled. 'The Holy Britannian Empire utterly embraced Social Darwinism beyond a national ethos and mentality; it's something akin to a state religion. It's for this reason that Charles Darwin is referred to as "Saint Darwin".'
The guide turned her head at the window and pointed at a huge enclosure at the far right. 'See that Ferris Wheel, those roller coasters and those towers? That's Saint Darwin's Park.'
'Funny, that place seems more like an amusement park rather than a pilgrimage destination,' commented Gokudera.
'Well, it is. Initially, there was just the Oswestry Spring, but then, the mayor thought up of a way to boost the economy by turning it into an amusement park. Inside, you'll find the Darwin Museum, which hosts this empire's largest collection of Darwin-related objects. There's also the Aquillusion Show every weekend: A thirty-minute spectacular display of colourful aurora laser lights and musical fantasy swirl through the night sky over the tranquil water of the Oswestry Spring. The story varies from one show to another, but they are usually fairy tale or legend adaptations.'
The exchange students looked unimpressed; after all, they had a similar laser show aurora fantasy attraction against the colossal ice-floe backdrop of the Shiretoko Peninsula.
Soon, the bus passed a lenticular truss bridge, which was a unique architectural structure composed of counterbalancing arches to combine the benefits of both suspension and arch bridges. The water beneath the bridge shimmered in the sunlight. A kingfisher swooped low near the water surface, hoping to catch the trout that leapt through the whitecaps. The sun seemed to burn hotter with each passing minute and the increase in temperature made Lambo start fanning himself with a pamphlet.
'We're going to pass the desert area soon,' explained the guide while lowering the air-conditioner's temperature.
Along the Bedegraine border, aeons of upheavals and erosion had fashioned tranquil canyons as well as stone tables. Myriads of bizarre rock formations, great and small, were made in different coloured sandstone rock layers—cream, fawn, sienna and terra cotta—extended in a narrow band for over thirty miles along the plateau rim.
'Whoa, there are extremely loads and loads of sand there!' remarked Ryouhei, again with the Japanese accent so thick that it sounded as though he had said, 'road and road' instead of 'loads and loads'.
Gokudera, who sat in front of the older boy, growled, half pissed off and half embarrassed by his companion's bumpkinly manner, 'What do you expect, turf head? It's a desert!'
'Gokude—'
'WHAT?!' snapped the hazel-eyed boy. However, he hastily softened his tone as soon as he learnt who was speaking. 'Sorry, Tenth; I thought you were that blockhead.' He pointed to the left, at Yamamoto's direction.
'I-it's fine. I wasn't going to mention anything important anyway.'
Reverently, he implored, 'No, Tenth; please don't hold back anything from me.'
'Uh, okay. I was just amazed that there are so many plants in the desert other than cacti. I wonder if you could tell me the name of those pinkish white flowers with long spikes.'
Gokudera's gaze followed Tsuna's pointing finger, and then he promptly answered, 'It's called "gaura". It's a perennial plant of which flower season was summer to autumn, with fast growth rate under full or partial sun with low water.'
'Wow, you're knowledgeable as always, Gokudera-kun,' complimented Tsuna, who was genuinely impressed.
As was common with the Japanese gesture of pleased shyness, Gokudera placed his hand behind his head, a smile gracing his lips.
'Hey, Gokudera, what about those green, stick-like thingies?' This time, the query really did come from Yamamoto.
The short-fused boy snatched the sports magazine from Yamamoto's hand and, after rolling it into a baton, used it to smack the jet-haired boy's head. 'Those are ocotillos, you brainless oaf! Can't you see that they aren't exactly rigid like sticks? Their spiny, whip-like, straight branches angle outward from the base!'
'Ouch!' Yamamoto rubbed his head, where Gokudera had just hit him. But then, he grinned again. 'So, what's an ocotillo?'
'Argh! It's a thorny candlewood, you dimwit!'
Yamamoto looked like he was about to ask what a candlewood was, but then his mouth just hung open without articulating any word whereas his eyes were transfixed on the window. Near one creosote bush-covered stone table bisected by deep canyons, there was a high rock that was cut through its middle, forming a natural sculpture akin to an arch bridge. Its rifts notched the remote solar disc that glowered in stifled auburn through the drifting haze of golden sand.
'Hey, hey, Gokudera, look! It's—'
'I'm looking at it, you baseball freak! Quit nudging!' Then, he turned to Tsuna with the most courteous smile he could muster, 'Would you like to get your photo taken, tenth?'
'Huh? Oh … yes, please, Gokudera-kun.' The brunet fumbled for the mobile phone in his pocket and handed it to the boy sitting on his left.
The driver kindly slowed down his speed so that the photo wouldn't be blurred. After the van passed the multitude of meandering streams that cut through sandstone walls, the guide offered, 'That natural arch may be reached by boat, on foot, or on horseback. Our school's hiking club often arranges weekend trips there. Do feel free to join them.'
'Does Millefiore have a baseball club?'
'We sure do. And plenty more of sporting and non-sporting clubs besides.'
'What about boxing club?' asked Ryouhei.
'Yes, we have that, too.'
The part of the desert they were located at present was filled with ever-swirling sand-storms, through which they had to pass to reach the unmapped territory of Millefiore Academy. Like any other Vongola branch, the place was undetected by ordinary satellites and other human technology.
Given that the sandstorm affected the van no more than a breeze, the Namimori students assumed that this was some sort of talisman-protected barrier designated to allow exorcists to pass through and to ward off ordinary people. Behind the sandstorm, they were surprised as well as pleased to find a lush meadow bordered from the desert by an elevation of deeply eroded gneissic rocks. This was a fertile sedimentary flatland that was the alluvial flood plain of the Roslin River. At the far back, the Reynoldston Mountains of Pridmouth spun upwards into clouds of verdant rainforest. Through this enchanted setting, clear streams splashed and tumbled, cascading over travertine basins and into frothy pools.
In the middle row, Romario was searching for a spare vomit bag, since Lambo had used two of them earlier, while Ryouhei was patting the child's back; the afro-haired shape-shifter's carsickness didn't seem to get any better. At the back, Hibari slept through the buzzling conversations. On the opposite corner, Mukuro watched all other people in silence—a sentinel whose presence was easily forgettable. Dino, who sat between Hibari and Mukuro, could only hope that the boy on his right hand side would not wake up before they reached their destination; Hibari's foul mood due to all the crowding wasn't exactly an appropriate thing to show the Millefiore staff.
By the time their van arrived at the Millefiore Academy, a quarter of an hour later, the sun was already burning bright scarlet on the western horizon. The air was filled with the fresh scent of grass. Bumble bees fluttered about, undisturbed by the flight of white dandelion seed heads.
Like other branches, the Britannian Vongola Academy also took shape of an Italian castle, but its colour was an immaculate white rather than the variant shades of brown. It sat in a shelf sculpted into the mountain, standing on a steep eminence and looking out across the immense, unbroken patch of a hundred and eleven miles of sedgy savannah stretching north to the Gulf of Pont Nedd Fechan. Because of this location, the academy was blessed with the vista of the flatlands and serried ridges to the east as well as the runnelled mountain backdrop to the west.
As they promenaded by a large pond in the garden, the exchange students' attention went to the gazebo in the middle of the pond. Within the heptagonal enclosure of the white gazebo, two boys dropped scraps into the water. A sooty-black entity with pointed ears emerged and devoured the bits they had just thrown. At a glance, the creature looked like a dog, but that was before they saw its racoon-like hands and elongated tail, which was shaped like a human hand at the point.
'You've got an ahuizotl here?' Gokudera's eyes sparkled; the boy had a flair for UFOs and ancient mysticisms. Had he been strolling alone with hands unoccupied with luggage, he would have darted to the step-stone bridge leading to the gazebo and petted the ahuizotl.
Hafsteinsdóttir, who now had a thin beard the colour of rust and the cheeks speckled with freckles, answered, 'Yes, but a tamed one. It doesn't drown people like its brothers and sisters tend to do. As you've just seen, students dump their clipped nails and milk teeth for its food.'
'Cool,' commented Yamamoto, 'Our pond in Japan is filled with kappa and mizuchi.'
Gokudera cast the ahuizotl one last longing look before proceeding under the arched entryway, along with his companions.
A security camera installed at the corner of the barbican ceiling, hidden by both the raised portcullis and the sombreness of the unlit edifice, recorded the seven exchange students, their supervisor and the supervisor's assistant as they were passing in files.
A white-haired man in his mid-twenties eyed the monitor hungrily. 'Fu fu fu fu. They've come at last.'
'Here are the printed data of the exchange students, Byakuran-sama.' An auburn-haired man of similar age handed the headmaster a few sheets of paper.
'That took longer than expected, Shou-chan. Was infiltrating the Namimori network set up by Giannini that hard?'
Irie Shouichi adjusted his spectacles and light reflected off their glass surface. For a fraction of second, he was tempted to say, 'You have no idea how many scripts I had to write to eke out my way into that virtual fortress—the septuple password encryption and firewalls were just the beginning, not to mention our network almost got hacked instead.' In the end, he resolved to a simple nod, but the headmaster's gaze had already been focused on the sheets in his hands.
'The Storm representation, Gokudera Hayato,' he began to read, 'nicknamed "The Smoking Bomb", is the son of a woman sired by the demon Agares. Inheriting his father's linguistic skills, Gokudera is proficient in thirty-five human languages and their dialect variations, fair in a hundred and eighty-seven languages and knows the basic of over three thousand languages—as far as the human languages are concerned. As for demonic languages, exorcists are still yet to find the method and the examiners to test such aptitude; hence, the exact number that this savant has mastered is currently impossible to tell. His weapons are iridium-based bombs and arrows. His familiar is a leopard.
Despite his human form, the Rain representation, Yamamoto Takeshi, was actually an amefurikozou born from the union of a suijin and an ame-warashi. In addition to being a water manipulator who can summon rain at will, he can also transform a bamboo shinai into a ruthenium katana, and in such a circumstance, there is no earthly object he cannot slash. He is also notable for his exceptionally agile motoric ability. He possesses the unique ability of nurturing two familiars: a swallow and a dog.
Sasagawa Ryouhei, who represents the Sun element, was born to a mortal man by a naiad. A prodigious offspring that emerges once every few generation, his healing power far exceeds his mother's. Whenever he fights, he does it bare-handed. Were it not for the minimum age limit, his boxing skills would be more than enough to pass a featherweight professional boxing test. He has a kangaroo, also skilled in boxing, as a familiar.
The Thunder representation Lambo Bovino is the son of a mamuthone and a jana. Inheriting both parents' shape-shifting abilities, he mainly appears as a five-year-old child in front of others. However, while cornered during battles, he can return to his fifteen-year-old self or even invoke the strength and wisdom of his twenty-five-year-old self by means of a tungsten time machine called the "Ten Years Bazooka". His familiar is a bull.
Hibari Kyouya of the Cloud division was born of human parents, but was bitten by a busaw at the age of seven and a draug by the age of eleven. With a multiplying hedgehog as his familiar, he is listed as one of the Namimori's top ten strongest students this decade. He had even single-handedly conquered an undead-turned A-class exorcist at the age of eleven. His weapons are a pair of tonfas that stored osmium misericordes in their upper compartments as well as spiked flails in their side compartments.
Rokudou Mukuro was born from the unhallowed union of a ghoul and a woman. He fights with a tantalum trident and his familiar is an owl. Having scored highest this century for the Mist placement exam, his illusory techniques are truly hard to dispel. To date, no opponent of his has survived without manipulated memory or damaged brain.
Representing the Sky division, Sawada Tsunayoshi descends from an illustrious lineage of human exorcists. Clad with titanium gloves, he has proven himself capable of handling A-rank opponents, although his true power tends to lay dormant unless he was in the state of emergency. His sky lion familiar is one of a kind that exists once every thousand years.
Fu fu fu. I'm looking forward to what these youngsters will show us.' With that, Byakuran laid the paper down. He then opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a bag of marshmallows. 'Especially…' Leaving his word to trail off, he popped a marshmallow in his mouth and chewed, but his eyes were fixed upon one particular sheet of paper, in which a fifteen-year-old boy with heterochromatic eyes and indigo hair was portrayed.
###
The guide had now taken the students to the dormitory. As a fellow Vongola property, the architectural differences between the American and Asian branches weren't too striking; for instance, the corridor here was fashioned with the cloister vault rather than with the cavetto vault as in the Namimori dormitory. What shocked all the seven exchange students was that the Millefiore dormitory was not gender-segregated.
'Don't worry, there are two bathrooms in every bedroom—one for each gender, of course. In addition, every room consists of seven sets of beds, wardrobes, desks and other amenities; each for a different element. The most optimal team is made up of the storm, rain, thunder, sun, cloud, mist and sky exorcists, after all,' explained Hafsteinsdóttir as she opened the lock of a door bearing the plate '347'.
'This room lacks the sun element. Thus, it would be your room, Mr Sasagawa.' With that, she beckoned at the four-poster bed on the northeast corner. The other six canopy beds were presently vacant, but there were personal items, such as teddy bear, alarm clock or books, that became the tell-tale of their occupancy. 'Your roommates are still doing their respective extra-curricular activities at this hour, I'm afraid. Your combat uniform has been provided. It's free sized, so I think it can fit most teenagers.' Hafsteinsdóttir glanced at Lambo and quickly added, 'As for Mr Bovino, I'll have the uniform tailor-made afterwards.'
Ryouhei approached the bed and unfolded the said uniform. Although different in design from the Namimori uniform, it was also made of light-weighted, flameproof, waterproof and bulletproof synthetic fibres enchanted with dwarves' hair. 'Is there only one?'
Hafsteinsdóttir, who now appeared as a paunchy aged man, replied, 'Ah, yes, you only wear it during combat lessons, see. At any other times, you wear ordinary clothes. The freedom to express one's self is one of this country's doctrines. Students, therefore, are free to wear whatever they deem suitable for themselves, provided they don't dress provocatively.'
The guide escorted the rest of the students one by one, with Lambo last, because she needed to take his measurements for the uniform.
It was not until half an hour before dinner that Hibari met his roommates: the storm element bookworm named Armando Gutierrez—at a glance, he looked like a quiet boy, but one he talked, he nagged; the rain element garrulous girl named Hui Yu, who talked with Singaporean accent and ended nearly all of her sentences with the '–lah' particle; the thunder element Avishag Gitlis, whose build was so skinny that it made Mother Teresa's look like a gormandiser and whose Jewish origin was thickly proclaimed in every syllable she pronounced; the sun element optimistic girl of Tanzanian origin named Tulinagwe Chizimu; and the sky element tall boy with fiery-red hair called Vincent Turner.
The last one to arrive was a freckled Polish boy named Czcibor Wiśniewski, who exclaimed, 'Wow, Xanxus is so cool!' as soon as he burst through the door, carrying the latest copy of the exorcists' monthly magazine, Purigatorio. The glossy front cover featured a dead fext being trampled by a scarred man approaching his mid-twenties under a large header saying: 'Exclusive Interview with the Leader of the Varia'. Looking bedazzled still, Wiśniewski hummed, 'Oh man, I wish I could be just like Xanxus. I mean, sure he has one hell of a temper, but look at his strength…'—another reason to add why Hibari couldn't get along well with mist element exorcists.
Although these six Britannian roommates tried to be amiable, the antisocial Hibari spoke only when questioned and refused their dinner invitation right off the bat. He headed to the dining hall alone, ignoring the girls throwing a 'why do we get this freak as a roommate' look at one another behind his back. Only Turner, who had the patience as vast as the sky, tried to calm the rest. 'Well, maybe that's just his character. No harm's done.'
Despite being accustomed to international dishes, none of the exchange students could finish the huge portion of the American-standard meal. However, the computerised system appealed to Gokudera and Hibari's favours—the former being a technological geek and the latter being a sociopath who preferred pushing buttons to conversing with his fellow humans—even though Hibari would trouble himself approaching a more distant machine just so that he did not need to be a part of the crowd. From his seat, which was eight tables away from the other exchange students, he gave them a look of 'I can't be bothered going along with such foolishness.'
Yamamoto and Ryouhei spent several minutes trying to decipher the Roman alphabets, but since they were friendly enough, help soon came from their respective roommates. Lambo pushed the buttons as he pleased and caused a cascade of error messages. Needless to say, Mukuro, who simply watched from afar, sipped his lamb goulash quietly and indulged himself in pretending not to know them, opting for silence as he usually did.
It was not until then that Dino—who had only been acquainted with Tsuna and Hibari—realised a major problem. Only three out of seven exchange students were prone to socialising, but none was gifted with linguistic aptitude. Yamamoto smiled at everything his tablemates said without knowing exactly the words meant. At another table, Ryouhei confused lots of words due to the katakana pronunciation, such as 'cheese' would be articulated as 'chizu', which had the exact pronunciation as the Japanese word for 'map'. At the next table, Lambo could overcome the language barrier, but his noisy and troublemaker attitude gained him little appreciation from his tablemates. Since Tsuna, who sat at a different table, got easily intimidated, Gokudera glared at everyone who tried to talk to Tsuna. Rokudou Mukuro made people forget that he was even there and his lack of presence, as well as his choice to sit at the farthest table, didn't help his socialization prospects. The worst of all was Hibari Kyouya, whose expression upon witnessing a group of three or more people was pugnacious at best.
The next morning, the seven Namimori exchange students stared, astonished by the difference of the lockers' size. While no conspicuous difference in width was present, the Japanese lockers were roughly a third the length of their American counterparts. The difference in locker size was probably due to the fact that they are used mainly for shoe storage. Once a student was in the school building, it was mandatory for them to replace their outdoor footwear with indoor shoes made of flexible canvas, known as 'uwabaki'. The American school lockers, on the other hand, functioned as students' personal storage, with a wide variety of contents ranging from skateboards to textbooks.
The size difference did not only occur on the lockers. Upon entering the classroom, they were again surprised, but this time by the difference of classroom chairs. At Japanese schools, chairs were separated from desks, but here each individual chair was connected to its own desk with a single armrest extending from the side. Instead of the usual hook on the side, there was a wire rack underneath every chair to hold its occupant's schoolbag.
Nothing surprised the exchange students, however, more than the changing of classrooms. In Japan, it was the teachers who came from one class to another, but here, it was the students who needed to look for the biology classroom, history classroom, and so forth.
Constantly flawless in his academic studies, Gokudera was the only one among the seven exchange students who could answer the teachers' questions perfectly. Yamamoto and Ryouhei, encumbered by their lack of English comprehension, did not get their chance to shine until PE. Lambo and Tsuna were the types who didn't show their true strength unless they were in emergency situation, so they appeared to be ridiculously idiotic, and many Britannian students even wondered why these two had been chosen as exchange students in the first place. Hibari was as silent as a statue. Mukuro, as always, was doing an excellent job of making his presence unnoticed. As for Dino, popularity seemed to follow him no matter where he went; his fan club was formed on the same day he transferred.
Being in Britannia didn't mean being free from bullies, especially in Tsuna's case. When Hibari entered the toilet, a tall, dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks was pushing Tsuna's head down the toilet bowl and flushing it repeatedly. Gokudera was lying unconscious on the floor, covered in cuts and bruises, while three other boys kept kicking his backside. There was no scent of gunpowder, probably because the peace-loving Tsuna had forbidden him to employ his dynamites to fight against fellow exorcist when the gang had attacked them earlier—Gokudera, who abided by Tsuna's every word obeyed even at the cost of his fatal injuries.
'So, your guts extend only as far as attacking those herbivores?' remarked Hibari with an unfazed expression.
When the next student entered the washroom, three minutes later, he found a boy with dreadlocks, along with his lackeys, lying on the floor. Their injuries looked like those of prisoners who had just come out of a medieval torture chamber.
###
In lieu of on 5 April like the start of Japanese academic year, the Britannian one started on 1 September. To compensate their English deficiency, the exchange students started their third-year students of Exorcism Studies anew in spite of having gone through a few academic months in Japan. Even so, other than the genius Gokudera, nobody complained about it. They, who used to be the top students from their respective divisions back in Namimori, found the standard of students' abilities to be higher in Britannia. In Hibari's case, today's combat spar proved that.
In contrast to the open-air practice ground at Namimori, the one at Millefiore was inclined more towards a hall. Built of white limestone, the place looked well-nigh like a roofed coliseum, owing to the number of exits along its circular wall. Even the arena was filled with sand; however, unlike the regular desert sand, the sand was as white as the one on the beaches that earned the reputation as top tourist destinations. Of course, by now, it was no secret what the favourite colour of the Millefiore headmaster was. The main difference, in addition to the shading, was the deficiency of stone benches—or any bench at all; the austerity of the edifice was emphasised by its absence of furniture.
As the Cloud exorcists' specialties decreed, each combatant was to face multiple opponents. The combat instructor, Kikyo, divided the students into groups of five. Each group was to hold out a one-versus-four battle in turn. Hibari's name was called together with Jack Green, Eduardo Peralta, Miriam Harris and Alexander Zhang.
Being ten inches taller than his prospective victim, Zhang seemed nothing less than a heavy-lifting athlete. With the wild strength of a gorilla, he swung a pair of barbells towards Hibari's head. But as expected, Zhang faithfully represented the reign of brute force, not speed. As Hibari sidestepped effortlessly, he could even read the writing on one barbell: 750 lbs.
Harris, whose face was decorated with at least twenty piercings, cut Hibari's evasion route; her thin build contributed greatly to her unmatched nimbleness. Three knives swung at Hibari, for his attacker wielded them between her fingers as though they had been her own claws. When Hibari evaded to the left, three more knives from the attacker's other hand pursued him.
As Hibari dodged the next set of knives, a basketball hit the pit of his stomach. An unfamiliar pain infringed upon the Japanese boy's ribcage; after taking such a formidable blow, bile rose to his throat and his head was spinning. The ball was nothing ordinary; it was laced with condensed spiritual energy. It was a weapon.
And Hibari swore he would not let it catch him unaware a second time.
Rather than falling onto the ground, the ball returned to its owner, the way a stringed yoyo would. When Hibari looked up, the ball was already resting on Peralta's palm. This fellow seemed nothing more than a sport-loving boy with an oversized cap, loose T-shirt, baggy shorts and worn-out sneakers. However, out of these three, he emitted the most hazardous aura. The fourth opponent still had not launched any attack yet, but Hibari had no luxury to ponder why.
Zhang swung the barbells at Hibari again, but the skylark somersaulted over Harris' head, kicking off her shoulder from behind and sending her crashing to Zhang, knocking them both down temporarily.
When Hibari spun around, Peralta, had sent his basketball back at the Japanese student. Coating his fist with spiritual energy, Hibari punched the ball. Even prepared for the assault, his knuckles felt numb—no student in Namimori had ever attacked him with such an immense power.
The ball hit the attacker straight on the face, but Peralta managed to pull out a last minute defence measurement that reduced the fatality of the effect. Wincing in pain, he aggressed forward, dribbling his ball in a mad pace to reassail Hibari. His adversary, however, was faster and evaded him. Hibari knocked the Latino boy down with a single chop to the nerves in his neck connecting to his spine before he could reach for the orange ball again. Temporally paralyzed, the basketball player collapsed.
Swerving to face Green, Hibari quickened his steps and threw himself into a new attack. He ran straight towards the dark-skinned boy with his arms stretched out, but when he was a metre away from the other boy, his feet—no, his entire body—was no longer on the ground. Vascular plants had appeared from the ceiling and twisted their snakelike tendrils around his wrists, binding him. His feet were at his usual eye level now, and the more Hibari struggled to pull the plant off him, the tighter the plant squeezed.
These plants require high concentration to summon and time to grow, surmised Hibari. So, this is why he didn't attack me sooner.
Hibari jolted as he felt his spiritual energy being drained from his body—was this the plants' doing? In front of him, Green leered at him, confident of an easy victory. Behind him, the other three students were advancing, suddenly hurtling forward from three different angles with deadly speed.
These plants are laced with rain element, deduced Hibari as he probed the type of spiritual energy that flowed within the plant. While it was uncommon, there were exorcists who could control two or more elements; his own teacher at Namimori, Lal Mirch, for instance, possessed the Rain, Cloud and Mist elements.
When the three assailants were inches away from his suspended body, Hibari kicked the first object that went his way: the basketball. Instead of aiming at its owner, he directed the ball towards the nearest opponent. Harris was nimble enough to duck, but before she could react by throwing her knives, Hibari's second kick had hit her square in the jaw.
Zhang, who had seen how Hibari treated his fellow, anticipated a similar third kick. As soon as Hibari's leg swept through the air, he caught it by the ball of the foot. With the inhuman strength inherited from his golem grandfather, he twisted Hibari's ankle. The assaulter tightened his grip upon hearing no scream from his victim—screw the supposed spar; he'd break the Japanese boy's bones and be punished with detention afterwards if he had to, but he would definitely make this scoundrel scream and beg.
'Yo, Mir, he'll make a great punching bag, don'tcha think?' Peralta retrieved his ball and aimed at Hibari's head. 'Still too short for a basketball hoop, though.'
Harris sneered. 'His head's yours, but his belly's mine.' With that, she began the first of her series of enraged punches, since Hibari cast her the bored look of 'I've experienced worse.'
After receiving her fists just for the sake of measuring his opponent's strength, Hibari began to fight back, ferociously trading blows with his quartet of assailants no matter the speed at which their attacks came. Each time one of the opponents tried to go around the other to strike him from behind, he'd turn around and foil the attack. Hibari had even managed to free his right hand from the vascular snare.
'Holy shit!' To Green's astonishment, the vine that had bound Hibari's right wrist until a few minutes ago had now withered. 'How?!'
Hibari did not answer until he slogged Zhang's head with his tonfa, making the latter stagger back and collapse. 'Ever heard of reversed cloud seeding? '
Green's eyes widened in shock. Theoretically, the reason for the withering of his vine was dehydration—the cloud-element exorcist prevented his rain spiritual element from nurturing the plant. However, to achieve such a goal by applying the principle of reversed cloud seeding meant that this Japanese boy possessed an incredible control of his own spiritual energy so as to assemble the salt, potassium and carbon within his body and merge them with silver from his weapon—since each exorcist's weapon was coated with a minimum of five per cent silver as a precaution against vampires and werewolves—to form substances as close as possible to silver iodide, then used them to delay the rainfall. More impressively, he did it under the abuse from the three oppositions. How could such an individual with unparalleled accuracy of self-control exist?
By the time he mentally slapped himself and got ready for a fight, Hibari was in the middle of freeing himself from the remaining vine on his left wrist, while the other three students were incapacitated due to injuries. Before his opponent broke free completely, Green had taken the advantage and rushed to renew the assault, a war hammer in hand.
But reality turned out to be different from plan. The Japanese fighter's charges were too quick for Green, legs out to kick the native whichever way the dark-skinned student tried to dodge. When one of Hibari's kicks landed on his chin, the tied up boy used it as a springboard and, swinging in mid-air, he kicked Green hard enough to smash against the wall. The combat instructor looked his way just as Hibari had managed to extricate himself from the final entanglement of Green's vine.
Upon seeing the beat up Britannian students, the teacher calmly analysed the situation with a penetrating gaze from his sea-green eyes. 'Well, well, well,' the Head of Cloud Division remarked, 'I must make a note not to give you the first turn next time, skylark boy. You may be excused for now; be sure to ask the school medic to smear some diclofenac gel on your twisted ankle.' O-ho, a growing interest sparked within Kikyo's mind, I don't deny it; this boy … he's taciturn, he's psychopathic, he's brutal; but there's something in him that exceeds my anticipation.
On the second week of Hibari's stay at Millefiore, a medical check-up was carried out throughout the school. Rather than in April, like in non-exorcism schools, the check-up was held in September, on the second week after the term commenced. In addition to the standard health records, the students were also measured for their spiritual capabilities. The range of Hibari's sense of hearing and smell, with the draugen-busaw mode on, now improved to 857 metres.
As many days passed, it never occurred to the exchange students that they would eventually be assigned a mission directly from royalty on the few remaining days of their stay in Britannia.
###
'Bad news. We've got a call from Mynydd-y-Gaer regarding another wendigo attack, just now,' announced Bluebell, the head of the Rain Division. The phone receiver was still in her hand, and the air in the staff room grew even stiffer.
Torikabuto of the Mist division protested. 'Again? Didn't Alderley Edge also call five minutes ago with the same problem? And Nether Wallop before that? And Dinas Emrys?'
'That makes it the twelfth infected area today. The wendigo viruses have spread throughout the American continent and the prime minister's timing couldn't be more impeccable,' remarked Byakuran, with his chin on his knotted hands.
'What do you mean?' asked Daisy of the Sun Division.
Byakuran replied without any elaboration. 'Schneizel rang for an exorcism request.'
'Idjit, now of all times?' groaned Zakuro of the Storm Division. The other heads of departments looked at Byakuran in exasperation. They were going to need as many exorcists as they could get to fight the wendigos. Moreover, there was no time to organise a team with fully prepared strategy for the exorcism at the palace.
The white-haired Millefiore headmaster glanced at the glorious morning sky—the bright rays of the sun were pouring through the gaps between the gallant parade of clouds, unperturbed by the mundane troubles of mankind below—and took a rather deep breath before announcing, 'Dino Cavallone will lead the exchange students to attend the prime minister's summon. The Thunder Division personnel will create as much FGV as possible. All other available units will neutralise the infected areas nationwide and be prepared to fight the wendigos.'
Soon, the school ground became bustling with myriads of vehicles, from the smallest motorcycle to the largest aeroplane. The Namimori group took an enchanted van southwards to the capital city, Pendragon. A little less than two hours later, they arrived at the Britannian imperial palace—the third highest building in the world. Embracing the fusion of Regency and Beaux-Arts architectural styles, the palace was the pinnacle of elegance that reigned over the far-stretching verdant land at the very heart of the city.
After confirming the prime minister's invitation, the guards at the gilded iron-wrought gates let them through and the royal chamberlain greeted them the moment they dismounted from the van. 'This way, gentlemen,' the chamberlain cleared his throat and adjusted his lorgnette, holding the golden-rimmed glasses by their long handle, as he proceeded to escort the exorcists.
The group were passing the third pilaster in the vestibule when they perceived an earthquake from below. The ground shook, causing the rows of ornamental medieval knight armours and wall-mounted torchères to rattle. A passing footman carrying drinks gripped his tray fiercely to steady it, but the wine had already spilled from the glasses, sullying the tawny carpet.
All of a sudden, amidst the grandeur of the palace interior, some high-pitched cries pierced the air. The exorcists poured into the next room, which turned out to be a hall no less commodious than two and a half football fields combined. There, the empress, together with the internationally renowned hero—Zero—as well as the Britannian prime minister, was seeing off the Japanese prime minister, Ougi Kaname, at the end of his diplomatic visit. Judging by paleness of their faces, it was likely that the court ladies who attended the empress were the ones who had screamed.
The grand chandelier at the centre of the ceiling swayed so violently that even invoked a shower of debris. Without hesitation, Zero leapt to the Britannian prime minister's side, shielding the second prince from harm. It lasted less than a minute, yet within those countable seconds, something within Kururugi Suzaku told him that he had lived for this very moment: Schneizel was here, with so little distance between their two wildly beating hearts. As Zero, he had vowed to live without personal happiness; as a human, there was nothing he could do to prevent this rising excitement.
Then, the seism was over as quickly as it had begun, and everything returned to the state of attentive immobility. Everyone's laboured breathing still reverberated in the hall but no real damage was done. Zero resumed his place next to the empress. Yet, he felt a jerking motion when he held the young girl's wheelchair. She fidgeted from him. Betrayed.
Seeing Nunnally recoil, a dreadful realisation hit Suzaku: None of those who were present had been blind enough not to notice that Zero placed the prime minister's life above the empress'.
'I didn't mean…' Suzaku tried to say, but a sense of guilt scorched his tongue and prevented the articulation of those words. So what if his body had reacted on its own, even before the motoric gears in his brain commanded the motion? The fact remained that he broke his promise to protect Nunnally. He bit his lip behind his mask of bulletproof glass. Lelouch, I'm sorry.
Once, he had been at peace whenever he was at Princess Euphemia's side and vowed to protect her with his life. Once, he had delivered the final blow of the so-called 'Zero Requiem' operation by tainting his own hands with the blood of Prince Lelouch whom he treasured above all else and detested most in the world. Yet, there had been a roiling fascination that had haunted him for months now when he discerned the debonair second prince of the Holy Britannian Empire solved problems no less smoothly than his chess games, pacified the House of Lords and the Senate equally, handled the most rebellious of terrorists, and even won the national and international favours. The unbidden admiration grew into an indissoluble emotion, burgeoning inside Suzaku, eating away at his sanity because he was aware that he felt what shouldn't be.
And now, he was a moth drawn to the deadly attraction of a flame.
Unbeknownst to him, underneath a mask of composure, Schneizel el Britannia was smiling at heart: the indwelling sentiment inside him might not end up one-sided, after all.
Meanwhile, the exorcists headed to the elevator at the end of the hall. Before the door closed, Ryouhei cast the last glance at the empress; it was hard to believe that the most prosperous country in the world was led by such a frail maiden condemned to a wheelchair. The realization that the girl looked to be about his sister's age only made his disbelief stronger.
The elevator opened onto a wide parquet corridor leading to the sixty-third prince's private chamber. This was the Hall of Portraits, where many a man with chin curtain beard and many a woman with fontange high headdress peered down at the exorcists-in-training from their respective gilded frames.
'Enter.' The answer came from the other side of the filigree-embellished door after the chamberlain rapped the fleur-de-lis knocker. It was a child's voice that sounded strangely distant, as though he were located at the far end of a classroom.
The chamberlain opened the door to reveal something that eclipsed even the presidential suite of a five-star hotel. The room was sumptuously bedecked with gold leaf flourished antique furniture and scores of paintings and sculptures, each of which worth more than the lifetime income of an ordinary salaryman. Lavish draperies, cherry-wood panelling and crystal chandeliers created an exquisite setting. The imposing iron-cast columns and neo-gothic windows added an irresistible charm to the reception room, not to mention that it also offered access to a marble-balustraded balcony overlooking the intricate maze of the Exelica Garden. On its left, the lounge was connected to three adjoining rooms: the bedroom, the study room and the bathroom.
A papillon dog with white and brown coat ran towards the guests as they came in, barking noisily, until a boy's voice—the same voice as the one who invited them in—told the dog off. 'No, Lucien, leave them be!'
This voice came from the adjoining study, so the exorcists guessed that it was the prince's. The chamberlain bade them to take a seat and wait, while he informed the prince of their arrival. As soon as he was gone, Yamamoto made an attempt to pet Lucien, but Gokudera forbade him to touch anything in that room. Meanwhile, Lambo, who glanced impishly at the huge wall-sunken plasma TV set opposite the sofas, grabbed the remote control and squealed, 'Let's see how many channels this thingy has!'
'Lambo, don't; we'll be disturbing the prince!' In his attempt to seize the remote from the capricious child, Tsuna accidentally pushed the volume button and the sound from the television boomed across the room.
By the time Tsuna managed to turn it off, the chamberlain had reappeared from the adjoining study room, bearing a look of disbelief that such a country bumpkin existed. As Tsuna apologised over and over with a beet-red face, Gokudera grabbed Lambo's head and made him bow. 'You too, apologise!'
'Wha—but it's not Lambo-san's fault that the volume got louder.'
'Just apologise!' Gokudera smacked his head.
Lambo sniffled a tear and mumbled the word 'endure' to himself before apologising.
'His Highness Prince Calbraith pi Britannia will finish his Latin lesson in ten minutes. Refreshments will be provided in the meantime,' said the chamberlain before excusing himself.
Barely five minutes had passed when the door swung open again—this time, revealing a chambermaid in frilly apron carrying a trolley laden with a tea set made of finest porcelain and a large quintuple-tiered tray of bite-sized sweet and savoury pastries. Instead of barking, the dog eyed her quietly.
The maid had not even closed the door when Lambo climbed the closest tabouret to the trolley to grab several pieces, starting from the nearest blueberry-lavender dacquoise, and declared, 'Wow, Lambo-san wants this and this and this and—'
'Lambo, stop being so greedy! You can have seconds when you're done with the one in your mouth.'
'No way! Lambo-san wants—'
A light chuckle put an end to their argument. The prince was walking past the doorway, followed by an elderly woman of middle height with a bouffant hairstyle who could only be his tutor. He was a boy of no older than thirteen, with lime green eyes, aquiline nose and very thin lips. Add a pair of glasses and he would pass for a typical geek. Yet, there was something about him that distinguished him from the average teenagers at school—his princely aura for one reason, and his eloquently flowing accent for another.
When Tsuna apologised again with a pronounced blush on each cheek, the young prince assured him that he found them quite entertaining, since no one else had ever behaved the way they did. He joined them for tea right after the tutor curtsied and left the room.
'He's exceptionally well-trained, isn't he?' remarked Yamamoto shortly after both parties had introduced themselves, pointing at the prince's little dog. All the while, Lucien did not even wag its tail at the prospect of a delicious treat from such a feast.
'Yes, Lucien has been instructed to sit nicely and eat only the food served in his plate at certain hours on a regular basis.' Even as he spoke, the exorcists realised the difference in the prince's tone. The cheerful disposition vanished from his face; no longer did he look like a nonchalant teenager, but a young prince with dignity who was accustomed to having anything at his behest. 'He arrived here only yesterday. As a matter of fact, it was actually because of the same matter that requires your presence that I asked for a dog as my constant companion.' There was a sharp intake of breath before he continued, 'I used to believe that there were no such things as ghosts until recently.'
The guests' attention was fully focused on Prince Calbraith now, each exorcist bearing wordless questions in his gaze.
After sipping his tea, the young prince spoke in a grave, finely modulated voice, 'You have been made aware of the nature of my brother's—the prime minister's—invitation, I trust.'
'Yes, Sir,' answered Dino. They had exchanged greetings earlier and according to the common etiquette, the title 'Your Highness' should be used only for the first time addressing a prince, and 'Sir' thereafter. Nevertheless, in the other exorcists' ears, the calling of a child with 'Sir' did sound awkward.
'In that case, I shall give you the full account of what has transpired…' The prince's voice trailed off. For a while, he immersed himself in quietude, pondering how much truth he should confide to provide the exorcists with the crucial information without demeaning his courage. In his mind rang the voice of his wizened governess while quoting a gentleman's qualities from an old etiquette book, 'He is brave, because, with a conscience void of offence, he has nothing to fear. He opposes without bitterness and yields without admitting defeat. He is never arrogant, never weak.'
###
Two nights ago, Calbraith woke up to use the bathroom around one a.m. While he was washing his hands, however, he was perturbed by an ominous presage of something unnatural. Even through his drowsiness, a feeling was rising, creeping, from the hollow of his stomach and spreading outwards—a gradual sensory frosting of sinews and nerve lines, seeping through to his skin, prickling its surface with tiny bumps. A bewilderment of fright took possession of him and bathed his temple with cold sweat. His heart pounded so fast and so loud for a cause he did not even cognise. There was a dreadful churning pressure all around him and a small voice inside his head telling him that an unpleasant occurrence was about to befall.
The prince tried to convince the rational part of his mind that all he felt was utterly preposterous. Yet, after the last of the water gurgled away in the basin, the air became strangely still and this silence was cumbersome. He discerned a strong, unholy aura tinged with the shadowy terror. Stealthily, it expanded, reaching towards him like phantasmal claws. The entire manifestation was extremely tenuous, and might well have been a hallucination; and yet, it sent him shuddering nonetheless.
Calbraith reached the bathroom door with his back pricking and had to wipe his hand on his pyjama before he could make the door handle turn. Even so, his grip was tenuous, skidding over the smooth surface before lodging and turning. For a brief moment, the door resisted his effort, as if someone had been clutching the other side. Then the handle was caught and the door could be opened. He pushed inwards and, as the light of the bathroom spilled into the sombre bedroom, the child perceived that someone really did stand before him, forestalling his endeavour to return to bed.
In addition to the stranger's primitive garb, its lineaments bespoke the possession of a Mesoamerican origin. It was a little under medium height, with a pair of small, intricately convoluted ears and the exotic moulding of the nostrils, but its bare feet did not touch the ground. Its person was translucent and cloaked with eerie phosphorescence—visible, but without tangibility. Its scalp was almost bare, with only long single strands of black hair hanging in wisps. A part of its mouth had been ripped away, exposing its dark gums and an elongated blood-red tongue that dangled between its teeth.
The stranger licked its short, deeply curved lips the moment it caught sight of the prince, just as a hungry jaguar at the sight of a cub. One of the dreadful entity's hands was outstretched, reaching for Calbraith with black nails and swollen fingers that never fumbled. Tremor seized the core of the boy's soul. He could not scream; he could not run away; he could not even move a muscle. All the young prince could do was staring at this horrendous being. Nonetheless, the entity's finger pointed at the centre of the study room, singling it out in a crowd of lifeless furniture.
Upon perceiving that the creature's hand did nothing to capture him, Calbraith inquired with one remaining vestige of courage as to what the ghost meant. It offered him no answer.
It was only then did the young prince look deeply into its eyes, of which unblinking stare glowed dauntingly like burning coals and blazed with lurid vermillion flames that were preternaturally placid—never replenished yet unwavering throughout an inanimate timelessness of which days were in no wise different from its nights. It gave him a long, unreadable look—glowering at him still, still … still.
Calbraith's mouth contorted into a frightened rictus. The interminable gaze took the child to the height of a new terror; it sent the blood hissing and tingling through his veins. How could he know that he was not drifting on a nightmarish tide of madness?
The young prince recited the Lord's Prayer in his heart. On the third recitation, the apparition began to shrink with great swiftness and vanished into night's caliginous realm in a swirl of gloom, disappearing so rapidly that Calbraith could no longer make out its outlines. Only his pounding heart testified that the evanescent entity had indeed existed. He wiped his forehead, while his legs were still shaking beneath him. Even so, fear gnawed on him no less persistently than a dog on a bone ever since then.
###
The prince took a deep breath and mentally rearranged the words so that his account sounded decent. At the end of his tale, Ryouhei, Yamamoto and Tsuna were still struggling to weave together Calbraith's words in their minds. Unaccustomed to the prince's speaking style, these foreign students could only understand his words in bits and pieces. Gokudera, on the other hand, ventured to enquire, 'Why the study room, Sir?'
'I presume because, at that time, it was the temporarily lodging for the artefact procured from the Drumelzier Sea. Last weekend, my friends and I engaged ourselves in the leisurely pastime of scuba diving. My diving instructor is the one who discovered the artefact and we helped him pull it from the seafloor.
I had an appraiser estimate its value afterwards; however, peculiar as it may sound, he insisted on quitting halfway, albeit such deportment did not augur well for an expertise of his calibre. You would naturally be inclined to think that a professional is fully capable of cognising whether an object is beyond his capacity on the onset of the observance. Furthermore, he wore a superlatively timorous expression right before he announced his withdrawal from the project—it was a mystery so salient that it could hardly fail to provoke curiosity. Hereafter, I am thus left with no clue for the true cause that prompted his fear and could only guess that this might be something too outré to be mentioned even in a tale.' Calbraith let out a small sigh.
Tsuna, Yamamoto and Ryouhei blinked in confusion; they had to struggle to get the gist of the day-to-day lessons at Millefiore for the last eleven weeks, but even with their current level of improved English comprehension, they could grasp merely well-nigh half of Calbraith's speech.
'At any rate, I still have the recording of the appraisal in my possession. Allow me to show you.' The prince rose from his seat and headed back to his study, only to return a minute later with a sleek white laptop. During the prince's temporary absence, Gokudera translated the summary of Calbraith's story into Japanese for Tsuna, Yamamoto and Ryouhei's benefit.
After stationing the computer on the coffee table, Calbraith opened a video file. The opening scene of the video showed the exact lounge they were in, with the number of teacups as the only difference. A man in late fifties with brow of uncorrugated ivory and handlebar moustache introduced his name, his current occupation, the university from which he had graduated and some examples of the famous objects he had previously appraised prior to scrutinising the artefact in question.
At first, the appraising process seemed nothing out of ordinary. The appraiser lifted the artefact with greatest care and asked the prince's permission to clean it. The object assumed the form of a jar, with a tapering neck and an orotund body; not only was it festooned with seaweeds, but it was also encrusted with corals and shells that had gathered upon it through aeons in the ocean deeps.
There was a transitional effect, and then the next scene displayed the cleaned jar. The appraiser pointed at the bas-relief carving that covered the entire belly of the earthenware, explicating that flora and fauna were common subjects in Mesoamerican art. He alleged that the vase belonged to the Olmec civilisation instead of Maya, despite the iconographic analogies between the two cultures, and spent fifteen minutes delineating the differences between them. When he mentioned about the absence of cocoa pod carving in contrast to the diversity of other crops, Yamamoto stifled a yawn, Ryouhei rubbed his eyes, Tsuna looked lost, Lambo was plainly disinterested from the start, Hibari and Mukuro kept watching with poker faces; only Gokudera's expression showed unwavering concentration.
'If we look at the crude cut of its rim…' asserted the appraiser as he craned his neck and peeped inside the narrow neck of the vase with the aid of torchlight illumination, '… we can see—'
The appraiser's hazel eyes dilated and his Adam's apple bobbed once. He retracted himself with such haste too questionable to be regarded as natural before saying, 'I am sorry, Sir. It would seem that I am not a suitable person to deem the worth of this artefact.' With that, the video file ended.
'Naturally, I inspected what was inside the jar myself later, yet discovered nothing save for the soot-black darkness,' affirmed Prince Calbraith, 'Then, I left it in my study that night, with a mind to contact an archaeological research institute the next morning, but then the ghost appeared before me.'
'Where is the jar now, Sir?' asked Dino.
'I keep it sealed in the second room to the left of the elevator, three floors below. Two sentries guard the door from the outside.'
'Sir,' Gokudera intoned, 'May I watch the video again?'
'By all means.' The prince handed the laptop.
While Gokudera was pausing and zooming the video, Dino began to assign the tasks to his students, 'Bovino, who specialises in artefacts, will take a closer look at—' Dino paused and scanned his students. 'Speaking of whom, where is Bovino?'
'I'm here,' answered Lambo while appearing from the bathroom, the tip of a forked stick protruding from his pocket. Jocosity vanished from the timbre of his voice—when Lambo stopped referring himself as 'Lambo-san', it meant his serious mode was switched on. 'I dowsed the bathroom. Just as I thought, it's all right. There's no bone buried in the floor or something like that, so the ghost did not choose that location for a particular reason.'
The prince gazed at him in undisguised wonder; it was hard to believe that this was the same noisy child who had played prank with the TV set just a while ago.
'Right,' Dino stated, 'As I was saying, Sasagawa will watch Bovino's back while the latter is examining the artefact.'
Suddenly, Gokudera spoke, 'The inscription on the neck of the jar says: "A fate worse than death awaits whomever disturbs the peace of he-whose-name-is-unspeakable."
'You can read Olmec iconography?' remarked the prince, who found it even harder to believe.
'That explains it,' inferred Ryouhei, 'Perhaps the appraiser was worried that something bad would happen to him … something like the Curse of Tutankhamun.'
'No, I doubt that is the case,' replied the prince, 'Unlike the Egyptian hieroglyphs, a vast number of the Olmec symbols remain indecipherable heretofore. Suppose the appraiser had been well-armed with the archaeological knowledge to read the inscription, he would have mentioned it earlier, rather than focusing his inspection on the carvings. Furthermore, what triggered his fright seemed to come from the inside of the vase, in lieu of the neck.'
Dino asked, 'Has anything else happened since the disappearance of the ghost?'
In lieu of answering straightaway, Calbraith took a deep breath. Words did not come out of his mouth until five seconds had lapsed. 'There is no indication that these are still related to the aforementioned artefact, but starting from yesterday, a series of unnatural occurrences took place every few hours, like, all the windows on the east side of the palace shattered around three p.m. yesterday, or the chairs in the conference room flew about at seven p.m., or the lamps on the fourth floor flickered at nine p.m. … although none of these was as serious as the clanging of the prisoners' iron bars at four a.m. Neither the warden nor the prisoners was near the bars at that time; hence, judging from the sound, they were convinced that invisible hands hit those bars with a metal pipe. At last, but not least, there was also the temblor that befell only this palace just a few minutes ago.'
'Hmm, that does sound more like poltergeists' works than ghosts'. Or it could be the orchestration of a psychokinetic user. In the worst-case scenario, there's more than one enemy,' asserted Dino. 'We should split up and look for those responsible. Tsuna, you patrol the east side of the palace. Rokudou, you take the south. Kyouya will take the west, and I, north. Gokudera and Yamamoto will stay here to protect His Highness Prince Calbraith in precaution for the ghost's return.'
Searching his bag, Dino took out eight small transceivers and a radar device. He handed an earpiece-shaped transceiver to each of the seven students. 'Here, clip these behind your ears.'
Next, he turned to his trusted subordinate and handed him the spiritual radar. The device was built to detect spiritual energy in a radial pattern for up to a mile away, so its watcher was able to warn others of any spiritual presence. 'Romario, please monitor the situation with this; you know how to contact us if danger arises.'
The man-disguised goblin nodded and took the radar. Lambo and Ryouhei had no problem executing Dino's instruction. Yamamoto even accepted his lot with a happy face. While everyone else took their assignments in stride, Gokudera grumbled about why he didn't get assigned Tenth as a partner.
Tsuna himself was wondering why Dino called Hibari by his given name. The aguano always used family names whilst addressing all other students who were not from the Sky Division. So, why 'Kyouya', never 'Hibari'?
With assignments taken, the exorcists headed out, going their separate ways. They had enemy to kill. Eventide fell upon the palace, not with serenity but with the threat of bloodshed.
TO BE CONTINUED
Chapter V will be released on 31 October because it contains 'treats' suitable for Halloween.
ETA: It turns out that my other fics have consumed my time more than expected, so the update for Chapter V will be delayed. Sorry about this. On the bright side, there'll be a double (or triple) release this Halloween: a Takano x Ritsu Sekaiichi Hatsukoi horror and a Xanxus x Squalo humour (in two versions).
