Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in the story, aside from original ones, I also don't own the song used as a prompt. I do own the story.

Shout Out: Yeah, no. Sorry for the delay, freezer troubles. I intended to update in the morning, like I usually do, but lo and behold, this thing took its sweet time up until now. So I added another section, called Scribble, which contains a part of the future chapter - or at least one of them. So, like teaser.

Warnings: AU on multiple scales, violence, gore, Italian curses, and the beginning of a legend. Self beta-ed.

I always knew a missing piece

Was waiting in the dark

Like a quiet melody

But if I listened hard

I could hear the sound

Rising from the ground

Every moment until now

I was dying to change from a spark to a flame

I want fire, fire

('Black Sky', by Arrows to Athens)

The darkness he was hovering in the middle of was interrupted by flashes of pain and discomfort, and, for some reason, stiffness. It had been a dubious mercy when he had been pulled in - dubious because being unconscious meant being vulnerable, even if the pain, from frozen muscles and back wounds which had been thankfully muted enough for him to almost forget the situation he was in.

In this darkness, he should have felt safe. Because that was, what his cupboard, was, wasn't it? It was dark. And relatively safe, because none of the three Dursleys went into it, having cited that he contaminated the place with his freakish presence. At the time he didn't understand their reasoning, but he was thankful nonetheless.

He should have felt scared. Terrified even. Darkness was present when he had gone to rescue that Weasley girl. Darkness, hiding a thousand-years old snake who could kill with not only venom, but by its sight. Darkness was what it greeted him when he had had his bout with Quirrel. Darkness meant helplessness, being at someone's mercy and not knowing what would happen next, if those behind your back were safe.

Instead, the darkness - this time felt like some kind of a suspension, as if something was about to happen soon.

So. Very. Soon.

The darkness held him, like some kind of a black nest, full of shadows, a quiet melody, singing to something that was about to be born, something new, and he ought to be scared, if not for the feeling…the feeling that whatever happened - however and whenever it happened, it would be alright, a final, long-forgotten piece of puzzle falling into picture and then-

Harry of course didn't think like that - it was more like sensed it, vague premonition taking its hold after such a long time of being completely suppressed, but now –

Now, it was rising.

And Harry - for he was Harry, he knew that now - he smiled, even when they were still in the middle of the enemy's territory, where just about million things could go wrong at any time –

There was a tiny kernel of warmth, almost not worthy to be called a spark, but glowing nonetheless, a familiar, shivery warmth, a candle in the void, its light nowhere to be seen, but still here, still existing and just waiting to –

He felt - he didn't know how or when or even why - that blue/green presence close to him - ahead of him for a moment, before returning and then they were off –

- the action spurring the pitifully weak spark to open, like flower of warmth and light, flooding his being.

Kuzuki Soichiro was not a happy man at the moment. If he only had more time, he would have tortured the bastard who was currently happily choking on his own blood and lack of air, for the next thousand years. Well. Not so many, but really, some month or two wouldn't be out of his capabilities. Human's body was really a wonder, after all, with how resistant it was, despite being so very weak and sensitive.

But he knew they didn't have time. The entire operation had been a hazard from the get-go, even with all the info given through Kiritsugu's informant, who was extremely thorough with the details,that very moment, Kuzuki wondered just how could someone like Kiritsugu afford that, for his attire didn't really spell out someone who had bottomless money pockets.

The doors burst open, and five guards stormed in, all armed and dangerous.

But Kuzuki already vanished - or at least it seemed like that, not giving the mafiosi in question the time to regroup from the shock of seeing their leader immovable on the floor - and the next ten seconds saw them having been given the same fate as their erstwhile leader, not even being allowed to scream or otherwise alert their comrades scurrying about the mansion, just five steps away from the door they had burst through.

It was like this room didn't exist.

Broken necks. Caved in chest bones. Crushed skulls. All that terrifying damage inflicted by assassin's bare hands, assisted by his sheer physical strength.

Then, Kuzuki turned back to the still unconscious form on the bed, his hands and elbows speckled with blood and grey matter, looking down at his precious friend with a small, fond smile forming on his lips.

It was a good thing that Harry was unconscious, that he hadn't seen just what kind of monster one Kuzuki Soichiro was. Because Kuzuki wouldn't have been able to bear if those warm, green eyes turned darker with terror and disgust at the sight of his person.

Not that Harry would, of course, but seeing and just knowing were two different things.

But if Kuzuki had to be a monster, then it was just as well that he was a monster to protect his most person. With that firm resolution in his mind, something shifted within him again, and unnoticed to him, his eyes glinted with blue and green. His still clenched fists emitted a faint, almost unnoticeable green glow before fading away as he strode forward to the window he had sneaked through and placing his hands on it, he twisted the thick iron bars apart, making an opening, big enough for the two of them to get through.

Meanwhile, the two intruders and one brat had different problem to deal with altogether. Kiritsugu was still fuming, what with this little snag in his plans – he was more than tempted to write off the brat as a collateral damage in all this, but if he had done this, Harry would've known - somehow - and yeah, no. Not an acceptable outcome.

The brat's presence also itched - not like Kirei's, but a different sort of itch, and Kiritsugu had to hold himself back from reaching over, tear the brat out of Kirei's hold and then strangle him. Or hang him by his hamstrings. Or maybe some Chinese torture…

Even if the feeling of pain in his chest had eased, it had left behind something unfamiliar, but still, something that Kiritsugu felt he should have known how to deal with. It was like silence before the hurricane actually hit. Once, Kiritsugu had to do a hit on a bunch of cultists that had been doing particularly gruesome rituals with human sacrifices in America, and it was just his luck that the place was in the way of so-called Tornado Alley, the space where this natural phenomenon occurred most frequently. Kiritsugu didn't like to remember that mission, because it had been disaster from the beginning to the end. He had to sacrifice the remainder of kidnapped victims who were still alive in order to ensure that the entire bunch of overzealous murderers - they worshiped something called Jashin - were put down for good. And even Kiritsugu himself barely escaped with his life - not because his targets had been so incredibly competent, but simply because he had bad luck of having to execute the mission just before the tornado hit the area he was in.

He remembered the feeling of the air pressing down, the deaf silence - a warning sign that something dire was about to happen, and the ever-darkening, yet still somehow bright cloudy sky. And precisely this feeling was now nestling within his chest, causing his moot do plummet even further.

That was why he didn't what to include amateurs in his operations - they automatically assumed they knew better than him, and then proceeded to loose cannons through the entire shtick.

(And if - not if, but when - they came out in one piece, Kiritsugu swore, that he would give the little brat a good trashing on his behind to smoke out that idiotic arrogance o of his. Really, for such a tiny one would think he would be a little more humble.)

Even if he was fuming, he didn't overlook how this Matteo guy stiffened in alarm. There was no auditory signal, but Kiritsugu's gut clenched anyhow - there was, after all, only one conclusion to the sudden spike in activity, especially when taking in account the people who reacted to the signal, were all guards.

Dammit. That was one thing Kiritsugu didn't count on.

Silent alarms!

"What's going on?" He asked when both he and Kirei began to jog after Matteo, exchanging concerned glances.

"Don't have a clue." Their guide replied absentmindedly as they were storming through the corridors, the brat in Kirei's grip having enough brains to be, for once, silent. "But Maestro Marzio had activated his personal alarm, meaning he had been attacked.

Dull black eyes widening with shock, Kiritsugu couldn't help but wonder just what the fuck had Kuzuki been thinking, to assault the bastard out of the blue.

The entire operation was meant to be simple - infiltrate, cause diversion, get Harry, make another commotion with additional possibility of warning civilians to get out, and finally -

"What's the protocol in such case?" Kirei was remarkably calm when they thundered up the stairs, his breathing still calm, despite carrying a burden in one hand, causing Matteo to flick him an impressed glance, before looking ahead again.

"Some of people were already dispatched to the boss' location. " Matteo explained, huffing with slight exhaustion. "The next one to call would be Giuliano, but if not, then Sergio would dispatch additional forces to where it's needed."

"Perhaps I could go find him?" Kirei offered, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, as if concerned. Kiritsugu threw him an unimpressed glare. The Magus Killer knew dammed well that the priest was acting, but damn, did the bastard have the balls to offer to return back to the crime scene he had undoubtedly caused.

"No need. Sergio will call him up. But on the other hand, you two have to get back to Sergio, considering you still don't have the communication equipment." Matteo said, his tone almost apologetic.

They burst into the observation room, only to be confronted with Sergio barking orders to the different people here. The bear-like man was not happy.

"I want you to catch the fucker, and I want it done yesterday!" He roared at one of the underlings, spitting a Russian expletive when they didn't move fast enough. His dark eyes stopped on Kirei and narrowed.

"You!"

The snarl was entirely expected, but still a surprise. "Did you do it?" Sergio snapped, those usually lazy eyes black drills trying to dig the truth out of the priest with but a glare.

Kirei stared back, not amused in the slightest. "On what ground am I being accused on?" He snapped back, his own dead brown eyes boring holes in the man's face.

"On what ground he says – " Sergio was speechless at the newbie's audacity. Was that son of a bitch actually serious? Likewise, Kiritsugu didn't know whether to face palm or congratulate the priest.

Kotomine Kirei, priest with balls of steel.

"You were the last one see in his company." Sergio's words, delicate as they may have been, turned the attention of the remaining six men in the room to the young man standing in the middle of the room, still holding the brat by the scruff of his neck, like he was some kind of a rebellious kitten, seemingly unconcerned by the amount of guns being leveled at his person.

"Not to mention," Sergio snarled, his proverbial hackles rising even further – "That you are bonded to someone." He leaned forward, slapping his hands on the desk, the sharp sound in a direct opposition to a tense silence reigning in the room.

Kirei stilled.

Bonded to someone?

What was that man talking about now?

"What are you talking about?" His own voice was now sharper than intended, making Sergio to unconsciously lean back from him.

"Don't try to pretend, boy!" Sergio snarled, now the humanized image of a pissed off, rabid bear on a warpath. "I could taste it on my tongue the moment you two brats entered the room! You two are bonded to a Sky and you still dared to – "

His tirade was interrupted via knife piercing his throat, transforming the rest of the speech into pathetic gurgle, the blood gushing from the wound in a scarlet waterfall, the sickly sweet scent permeating the room as the man slumped over the table, his eyes glassy with shock and pain -

Five seconds later – no, even less - the men slumped on the floor, like marionettes with their strings cut, each of them sporting a hole either in their chest or head.

Wide brown and black eyes watched Kiritsugu eye the now dead targets with the cold disinterest while he switched out the magazines, his hands steady and sure before hurrying to the consoles and typing in the password. He then hit the switches, causing the screens to blackout and then, the alarms began blaring out loudly.

Xanxus gawped. He didn't even see the man move when he shot those bastards!

"Lets get a move on." Kiritsugu snapped at Kirei. "Fifteen minutes before this place blows to hell."

Kirei nodded. "North entrance?" He retorted, making Xanxus look from one to another, bewildered by their cryptic words.

"What the fuck – " He tried to ask, but Kiritsugu's glare effectively silenced him.

"Yes." Kiritsugu was equally as short. "I will take the brat." Xanxus was unceremoniously dropped on the floor, causing him to glare at the taller man venomously. He was not a sack of potatoes, thank you fucking much!"

"My condolences." Kirei muttered out, causing Xanxus' jaw to drop with outrage, but before the teen could say anything, the priest was already out of the room.

"Why, thank you." Kiritsugu snapped at the door waspishly, before glaring down at Xanxus. "I don't have time to babysit you, and if you don't want to be dead like trash here, then fucking listen to me." He snapped at the boy.

Xanxus cringed.

Was it too late to sincerely regret treading on Death's toes?

Kirei didn't try to be exactly subtle, what with his intention to draw as much forces away from Kiritsugu's position as possible. Not that it was hard to be – sowing unrest and disorder via executing the guards who had the misfortune to be on his path was enough.

He activated the Black Keys, the usually whitish blue flames were now the mixture of sharp yellow and deep violet, holding them like claws between his knuckles while he barreled into his enemies, using both tthe blades and his legs to deal the greatest damage possible.

Right now, the strange new colors were the least of his concern. Of course, the sensations that came along with this were something new too - nothing like using mana, this energy was both heavier and lighter at the same time, but all Kirei cared about right then, was the damage being dealt with it.

Contrarily to the whitish blue blades, those new ones seemed to, if they only scratched his opponents, accelerate the decomposition of the both material and flesh in a matter of seconds - not to the degree they would rot upon the single touch of the blades, but the decay spread with a considerable speed still, causing the opponents to scream and howl with agony while clutching at their appendages which rapidly swelled to very sickly colors, indicating advanced gangrene, their horrified compatriots helpless to do anything to stop the infection.

Death at this stage would be a mercy to them. But Kirei wasn't inclined to feel mercy. Those people who dared to steal his most precious person….. they deserved to suffer, in this and the next world. And a a part of him - -the greatest part, which had been up until now forcibly chained down in the deepest pits of his be )having only been allowed to the surface in the select situate that demanded Kirei act like an Executor), was now free, wild, and rampaging all across the place.

And Kirei… rejoiced.

"Who the hell are you bastardi!"

Kiritsugu shrugged nonchalantly while he pushed Xanxus behind his back none too gently.

"You can say that we are kind of a calvary." He snarked before his gun once again made deep impact on the enemy via unloading the bullets into their collective skulls.

Each of the shots hit their target with lethal precision, and despite the violence and murder occurring right then, there was a beauty in the scene - a beauty that made Xanxus stare, transfixed, at Kiritsugu while the man was dealing with their opponents.

Kiritsugu, who, despite having been faced with a multitude of enemies, was still calm as cucumber, but still focused on the task with a terror-inducing intensity. In the boy's six years old mind, Kiritsugu became the epitome of cool.

This scene - Kiritsugu with dark eyes, twin voids of death, with two guns blazing at their enemies would be enough for Xanxus to decide what kind of a weapon he would like to have when he would grow up.

His daze was interrupted by Kiritsugu impatiently calling out for him to fucking already, and Xanxus complied.

(And if he picked a gun or two on his way out, then this was no one's business but his own.)

What should have been a quiet evening was turning out to be a mess of epic proportions. And what was worse, Freccia didn't know just how many people they had to deal with.

The control room was in shambles, and there were reports of both Giuliano and Sergio having been killed along with Sergio's subordinates present at the times. Worse yet, someone managed to sneak in and drop maestro Marzio himself.

The only clue anyone had, was that Marzio's latest victim had been taken, so it wasn't hard to extrapolate that the ones who made such a mess were this teen's friends.

What begged the question, was just who was insane - and resourceful enough not only to get in, but also to kill three of the highest positioned men in the Freccia famiglia without so much as by your leave.

Neither of the two known ones said anything about belonging to any family. They could be hired guns, for all they knew about them.

Adriano was not the highest in the hierarchy, nor was the cleverest. He got into the famiglia by pure dumb luck - or misfortune - of having the senses sharp enough to sense the Flames.

And right now, the young man had a headache of epic proportions.

He had widened out the senses, trying to catch the perpetrators and determine their Flame natures in order to better deal with them. The Sensing was a delicate business, because if one wasn't careful, they could be dragged within the sphere of influence of an Element, which could destroy their very sanity.

Rain? They would feel like drowning.

Lightning? Thunderbolts down your spine if your luck didn't keep up with you this day.

Cloud and Mist were essentially almost the same – suffocating their very lungs, only the Mists were more devious than their counterparts.

Storms were ones of the hardest - they were screaming, violent torrents of energy, all aiming to render the miserable bastard who antagonized them apart in the most violent matter possible.

In comparison with Storms, Suns just make you feel like a burned out husk.

Skies were more or less harmless compared to their Elements - mostly harmless, if you weren't stupid enough to agitate one and then feel like being thrown into a miniature black hole for its pleasure.

And right now, Adriano was that sorry a bitch who had the dubious pleasure of being subjected to the Elements' antagonistic presence.

All well and dandy, however something didn't feel right. Scowling, Adriano frowned as he concentrated once more, only to be hit with a deep feeling of nausea when he tried to concentrate on the least volatile two out of them, Rain and Lightning.

He made a sickened noise, prompting a concerned frown from his senior. "Oi, bambino, you alright?" The man asked, concerned as his hand landed on Adriano's shoulder in an effort to stabilize him. "Got anything on them?"

"Doesn't make any sense." Adriano managed to get out, his face faintly green with sickness as he tried to curl into himself to stave off a little bit of the misery pressing on him. "It's like the two of them are in a discord, or at least very near that point. But if that were true…" He trailed off as he looked up at the man who blanched a stark white. Adriano could only small nod of misery.

Discord. Dio Mio. Anything but a Discord, please. Give them sane, if pissed off Element to deal with any day, but not a Discorded one.

"Madonna Santa, non dite cosi!" The man choked out. "Adriano, are you sure?" Adriano winced, as he concentrated once more, and then – There. A small flicker, completely covered by burgeoning Lightning and Rain but there, a tiny spark to fuel the change further into a wild, raging inferno.

"Porca miseria!" He yelped out, his eyes wide and unseeing as he tried to concentrate more. "Our luck can't be so bad, can it?"

As if to prove him wrong, there was a flash of the one thing all of the Elements and mafia sought after.

A tiny bit of Harmony.

Which should have been a happy occasion in ordinary setting, but right now, it was like someone poured a bucket of ice cold water over Adriano's head. Without thinking, he snatched a gun from some nameless flunky and then shot him with it, causing his partner to look at him with shock.

"Che diavolo, Adi?" Have you gone insane?" The man barked at him, but Adriano looked at him with eyes, devoid of hope.

"Our luck is just that bad, Benito." Adriano's reply was toneless as he felled another grunt.

"They have a Sky."

The now named Benito froze for a moment, and then, an ugly curse sailed through the air as he too, turned his gun toward his until-then comrades, opening hostile fire.

Adriano screamed out in agony, his eyes sightless as the tornado of drowning/lightning overwhelmed him, barely feeling the bullets piercing his chest, not even hearing Benito's howl of denial.

Those - monsters….

The only thing in his mind at the moment he fell was…

They have a Sky.

Never before had Kuzuki been so grateful for his training.

(And, of course, Kiritsugu's stash of toys. While going bare-handed was all good and well, it paid off to have some long-ranged weaponry too.)

He twisted in the air, being careful of his precious burden bundled onto his back.

A small hiss of pain nearly lost his concentration, but he still managed to land safely, quickly ducking behind one of the chimneys and praying that it would hold on long enough to get some rest and overall view of the situation.

Judging by the noise in the quarters on the south side, Kiritsugu was well into the fray, and Kirei was heading to the north with all the due speed, dispatching the resistance on his way effortlessly, if the panicked screams and commands were anything to go by.

Kuzuki would've been almost impressed. For only an Executor, Kirei could very well go toe to toe with the best of the Assassins Kuzuki's guild could offer at the moment - or at least those who by some miracle managed to escape Kuzuki's brand of justice. But still. Kuzuki cringed when one particularly loud sound reached his ears. Did Kirei have to be so very noisy?

Instead his attention was turned to someone else.

"Harry?" He muttered, trying to keep his voice low enough not to be heard.

A groan of pain answered him.

"S-Soichiro?" The croaky voice questioned back, prompting Kuzuki to unconsciously smile at the sound.

"Yeah, me. We've came to rescue you." He added needlessly, and an unhappy growl near his neck answered him back, causing him to shiver at the moist breath hitting the sensitive skin here through the fabric separating it from the cool night air.

"Shush." Kuzuki snapped back. He knew what was Harry thinking - how could he not- but Harry ought to perish that line of thought, and the sooner, the better for all involved. It was already inconceivable enough that he thought they would leave him alone to weather whatever that bastard had planned for him. "This was our choice. You would've done the same for any of us –" And wasn't that a bittersweet fact to know – "So don't you dare to say that we can't do the same!"

The teen's thighs around his waist - he carried Harry piggyback - weakly squeezed his sides as in reprimand for his behavior, sending a flicker of fire through the assassin's body.

A small hoot later, Kuzuki felt the being land on the top of his head. He stilled when the dangerous avian let out a short, angry bark, and then, there was a ruffle of feathers hitting so – and judging by Harry's yelp, it was his head.

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But two or three barks and yelps later, Kuzuki was, despite being in a very dangerous position - anyone who had working eyes would have seen a dark mass and a bird cuffing with its wings at that dark mass, seemingly reprimanding it - but he couldn't.

He giggled. It was a small, quiet giggle, which began with a tiny snort and then continued with the peals of the merry sounds. Harry's growl equally as helpless as was frustrated, didn't help the matters.

"Accept the justice so that we can move on. We both know – " He snorted again "That Hedwig is right and you are wrong."

In response, the dangerous avian perching on his head hooted with approval and nipped Kuzuki's right ear affectionately, before launching into the air and fly to their designated point, Kuzuki swiftly following their guide.

Huffing, Kuzuki's burden resigned to its position, lips quirking into a tiny smile as he replayed his usually serious, stern-faced friend helplessly giggling at his plight.

He wouldn't mind hearing that sound some other time.

"Va all'inferno!" That kind of shrieks and curses did nothing to stop Kiritsugu from advancing. The Magus Killer looked at wrist clock.

Seven minutes.

The brat at his side was spitting equally uncomplimentary curses back, and Kiritsugu's teeth hurt from just being close to him, this pressure building, and fuck, he had enough trouble controlling his own energy, whatever it was, leashing it so it didn't turn on him and destroy him, body and soul. Or the brat.

It was rubbing him wrong in so many ways it wasn't even funny. He was tempted - oh so very tempted - to turn the gun - preferably one with Origin Bullet in - to the brat and let it loose.

Maybe then that horrible itch would go away.

The brat was manning the guns he filched from the grunts some ways back clumsily, and more often than not, his shoots went way past their intended targets by such a large margin Kiritsugu could cry a river - this was a disgrace to guns and their wielders everywhere and once more, he had to resist the urge to whap the back of the brat's head and give him a blistering lecture that would surpass even the one Natalia had given him when he did something just as stupid, but thankfully in controlled environment.

And…

Were his eyes deceiving him, or was he really seeing around the brat's hands tiger-striped flame in different shades of orange?

"Kid. Stop fucking with colors." He snapped at the brat, this time not resisting the impulse to whack the brat one, earning a surprised yelp.

"Ow! Che diavolo vuoi? I don't have any colors!" The brat spat back, but Kiritsugu saw them intensify a little bit more as he clutched the guns in his hands harder.

And of course, that fucking feeling of being rubbed against his proverbial fur was back.

Growling, Kiritsugu yanked the feeling back

-annihilate him –

The starved beast in the back of his mind growled out, emitting a low purr of malice.

One for ten.

Remember?

Ten for hundred.

And then…. Hundred for thousand.

Xanxus snarled at his guide, only to stop and stare into the eyes, which were, at the moment, dark violet with the jagged lines of bright red intermixed within, the gaze of an abyss given form and color.

This feeling - Xanxus stepped back, trembling, his heart thundering beneath the ribcage like only a mouse's in front of the greatest of predators would.

Ever it was - the feeling, aura or something – it pressed down on the kid and their enemies surrounding them, causing the grunts to hurriedly vacate the premises.

The hurricane was about to be unleashed and none of them were suicidal enough to try and weather it.

Biting his lip until it bled, Xanxus backed down, his instincts frantically howling at him to get the fuck out of there else be stomped into a bloody smear - and for some reason, the threat didn't seem as silly as it would have if there was any other person.

Kirei jerked in the middle of the disposing of his opponent.

The sheer malice he had sensed just ten meters ahead meant nothing good.

But the feeling was enough to jerk him out of his self-imposed rampage, this side of him satisfied with his victims' suffering, even if he knew, only too well, that this kind of satisfaction would be temporary.

The rest of the terrified guards didn't know what to think when their opponent suddenly ran past them like bat out of hell - but they didn't have any time to feel relief for this monster turning its attention elsewhere.

Kirei's strikes, even hurried as they were, still hit their points with lethal precision.

Ten seconds later, the corridor which was up until now filled with the sounds of fighting, was devoid of fire and screams, leaving behind only death and silence.

Xanxus made another step back, but that didn't seem enough to appease the beast in human guise in front of him.

Kiritsugu's arm raised up, and for the first time in his meager, pitiful life, Xanxus stared into the barrel of the gun and the eyes of a man who honestly wanted to murder him –

-only for the black shadow to jump over him and knock the gun off its course, causing Kiritsugu to snarl with rage.

"Knock it off!" The shadow, now revealed to be the priest, barked out and Xanxus honestly felt his legs became a jello at this precise moment - so relieved he was. "Harry is waiting for us!"

There was another violent struggle, with Kirei having to aim a harsh strike toward the assassin's throat, but Kiritsugu dodged. Blinking rapidly, the violet and red iris slowly bleed out, but not completely.

"You don't need to tell me." He snorted. "And tell the fucking brat to tone down his colors. Otherwise next time even you won't be fast enough to prevent me from ventilating his head."

Xanxus, who was straightening out from his hunched in position he instinctively tucked himself in when Kirei jumped over him, flinched back as if struck. Dark brown, emotionless eyes swiveled to him, and Xanxus felt his heart lodge within his throat when usually blank brown slowly bled into yellow and indigo and the blood-splattered hands clenched on those strange hilts hard enough for the knuckles become bone white in process.

"I-I'm not doing anything! I swear I'm not!" He blurted out, his eyes wide with fright. Those unsettling dual toned eyes looked up and down his body, scanning him like a very advanced - and terrifying X-ray.

"No. At least consciously, you aren't." Kirei allowed it, swiftly dodging Kiritsugu's attempt to pistol-whip him, and at the same time - Xanxus wasn't sure but – ignited one of those hilts with the same indigo color inlaid with yellow like his eyes were, the …. Long sword? Knife? - becoming a bolt of light when it streaked to the enemy behind Xanxus' back, and lodging into the man's chest, it made it explode like some kind of an exploding bullet, only with less noise and more gore.

Kirei's eyes bore into Kiritsugu's, the black irises of the eyes of Magus Killer once again began to bleed into dark violet with red streaks.

"Five minutes." Kirei said. Pinching the bridge of his nose Kiritsugu closed his eyes and exhaled, absentmindedly shooting at the rope holding the chandelier and making it crash down at the three man stupid enough to think that their superior weapons would give them an advantage over the trio of intruders.

"I am too old for this shit." He snapped out, but still turned around and began running to their rendezvous point.

"Get on my back." Kirei commanded, as he knelt down. Xanxus didn't hesitate. Hastily, he got onto the priest's back, wrapping his arms around Kirei's neck and screaming with surprise when Kirei picked up a decidedly inhuman pace as he sprang forward, to run after his grumpy friend.

Four infiltrators. Four.

It had been a disgrace to the ancient famiglia that for an utter chaos, destruction and disorder of their main headquarters wasn't needed an army, like the battle scenarios had foreseen, but the shame of all shames, only four people.

And to make the matters worse, one of them was a kid.

A kid.

If that came out to the underground, Freccia wouldn't be a feared force anymore, but a laughingstock for centuries.

The senior members of the defending force gathered the next wave of forces, barking their orders with a bitter knowledge that no matter how many – or who - they sent against those monsters - those four riders of apocalypse - they wouldn't come back any differently than as cold corpses in different stages of massacre.

War. The messy-haired, cloak-wearing man who handled the guns like they were a part of his body.

Famine. A martial artist who wielded both some kind of long swords and martial arts with ruthless efficiency. Rumored to be the one to kill Giuliano.

Death. Nobody knew his face. Whoever came in contact with him died. The only way they knew this person existed was that they took away Marzio's newest toy.

Victory. The small mulish-faced brat following War like a puppy on a leash. He hadn't done anything noteworthy aside sneaking in the gardens and he didn't have any kills in his name, and the nickname was more of a mockery than for any real achievements.

Four of them, against Freccia in their stronghold, and damn it, the intruders were winning.

How shameful.

"Kill them. Use any and all means, but fucking kill them!"

Meanwhile, the four intrepid rescuers finally made it to the rendezvous point at the north gates, with Kirei and Kiritsugu relaxing a bit when they saw a small bundle on Kuzuki's wide back, with Kuzuki standing at the edge of the roof.

Xanxus felt his eyes blur with tears - he would never admit that they were tears of relief, but insist that the fucking trash of a priest was running way too fast - when he saw Kuzuki carrying the tourista - no, Harry, in a makeshift carrier made out of clothes on his back. Violently, he rubbed them away with his fist, and then he just about screamed with terror when Kuzuki jumped down to the ground.

But Kirei only sped forward, causing him to choke with speed, and Kiritsugu - well, Kiritsugu was somehow already there, checking on the younger teen, and growling something with a gruff voice.

Five - three heartbeats, and Kirei joined the group, his eyes checking over the small bundle, his shoulders stiffening when he caught the scent of blood on the covers.

"Harry?" His voice was quiet, causing Harry to turn his head away Kiritsugu to him, green eyes widening when he saw Kirei's passenger.

"Kirei, what on earth – "Harry managed to get out, but coughed, causing Xanxus to frown.

"Yes, I am here. Deal with it." He interrupted any tirade his tourista - Harry, dammit, his name was Harry - had been gearing to speak, prompting a watery-eyed glare in his direction. But Xanxus refused to feel guilty.

"Hate to agree with the brat, but we really should be going. " This was Kiritsugu. This time, Xanxus glared at the assassin, feeling quite safe riding Kirei's back, and judging by Kiritsugu's glare, the Magus Killer knew that too as he bristled when he once again felt the brat's colors.

Kirei's back stiffened at the feeling - in such close quarters with the kid, he got to experience those brush-against-proverbial-fur feelings quite intimately, and Kuzuki stiffened, his eyes flashing between deep blue and electric green –

The only one calm here was Harry, who only gave Xanxus an exasperated, if fond glance.

"I am happy to see you alright, but let's save the posturing for another time. I don't know about you three, but I have had enough of this particular tourist trap." Harry snarked, his voice crackling at times, but the three assassins' bodies loosened with relief.

Nodding their assent, the group quietly vanished into the darkness, leaving behind the panicking Freccia whip themselves in a frenzy.

Half an hour later, the sleeping city was awoken by detonations echoing through one of the buildings, collapsing it on the spot.

Late night news reported that the honorable citizen of Florence, and the receiver of the Golden Shield of Florence for his outstanding achievements, one Marzio Gavilano and his family were killed by the terrorists. The police was still searching for the culprits, but without success, especially when the autopsy of the corpses indicated that before the building collapsed on the victims, some of them were murdered in a quite grotesque ways.

What baffled the media the most, were four words, scrawled awkwardly on a big rock which crushed one of the men's midsection, causing him to die in horrifying agony, but not before he managed to leave his last message to the world:

Quattro Cavalieri dell'Apocalisse

Conversely, the culprits for this furor didn't care about it. Instead, all four of them were protectively curled around their most precious person and sleeping the sleep of the righteous, for once completely relaxed in each other's presence.

Kuzuki found himself on the bottom of the puppy pile, acting as a mattress for Harry's body, while both Kirei and Kiritsugu took the sides. Xanxus, conniving little brat like he was, somehow squeezed himself between Kirei and Harry, but through the night, he ended with his hand on Harry's stomach, stubbornly embracing the young man, relaxing in the soft golden orange color that filled his mind when he closed his eyes.

All of them were too tired to protest his inclusion in the group, and the three assassins unanimously, if silently, agreed to deal with the tiny hanger-on in the morning.

This time, there won't be Harry for the brat to take cover behind.

Their colors, even if the three assassins were unaware of them, curled around Harry like huge invisible beast, shielding him from both bad dreams and outside world at least for the time they were sleeping.

Suffice to say, this time if the three - actually four of them - had any say in it, Harry would not go anywhere without their say so.

Scribble: A part of the future chapter in no order whatsoever

Empty black eyes stared into similarly colored narrowed ones. He had known of the Black Sun, even if they hadn't worked in the same circles or territories. But Reborn was kind of notorious what with his ways of dealing with enemies, and Kiritsugu was not. Very few of people knew of his semi-notorious title of Magus Killer compared to Reborn's overly pretentious one as The World's Greatest Hitman. Kiritsugu didn't mind, but if the man sniffled around his Sky any more, then all bets would be off.