XCI.
What does it mean to die without regrets?
XCII.
Autumn.
Leaves of red and gold dancing in a lighthearted breeze, spinning through the air as they innocently chased each other through barren branches; the last of their kin to fall. A glow of dusky amber skimmed their edges as they kissed the fading sun, dipping back into the shadows and sighing softly as they fell to the ground.
Some found their home on the forest floor, while others were swept away by the careless laughter of the wind. Some tumbled and flip-flopped on the grass before lying still, while others struggled onwards as the soft breeze gave them one last push before leaving them to their fate.
A single drop of liquid gold stumbled onto lacquered wood, before being gently brushed aside by a pale hand.
"… have gathered here today to express our sorrows…"
A grassy field.
Men and woman alike all dressed in black, standing tall as they filled the clearing. Stone-faced and unmoving, listening to the priest's speech in vague sort of respectful silence.
They were here for a girl.
A girl marked by death at birth.
A girl whose struggles in this world had finally ended.
Some knew her only as a passing acquaintance. Some knew her as political partners. And still others knew of her only through rumors and whispers alone; yet all were present.
There was an old man, standing next to the newly-appointed Lord Squalo with an unreadable expression on his face as he listened to the priest's speech like all the others.
"… will always remember her…"
Few were the ones who were present because she had been someone precious to them.
But, knowing the nature of that girl…
Do you think she would care?
XCIII.
"I heard that the late Lady Squalo went off in a fit of rage to seek revenge. That's how she ended up dead."
"Just like her father, you mean?"
"Well, whaddya know? Looks like madness runs in their blood, after all."
"I feel sorry for the Squalo House. Poor dears."
"Really? I heard she left to protect her family."
"Eh? How does that even remotely make sense?"
"I heard she was involved in something dangerous, and she didn't want her family to get pulled into it. She left so no one would be hurt."
"… I think her actions may have had the opposite effect on them, then. Mentally, at least."
"Y'know, I never thought she would ever amount to anything. But if you look back on all the things she's pulled off over these years…"
"Too bad she's dead now."
"Yeah. Too bad she's dead."
XCIV.
When the Vongola Nono saw a young platinum-blonde woman sauntering over with a simpering smile on her face and a greedy glint in her hazel eyes, he'd known exactly what was going to happen.
"Oh, Superbi, dear." She sidled up and slyly wrapped her arms around the silver-haired swordsman standing next to him, pressing her body flush against the boy and breathing into his ear. "I'm so sorry for your loss. But don't worry; as your oldest second cousin, I'll be here for you whenever you need me. I'll move in as soon as possible to help you take care of the–"
Timoteo had known this was just waiting to happen.
…
"Lord Squalo," he said tiredly, rubbing his forehead –he was getting too old for these things; maybe he should name his successor soon? "I'll call someone in to take care of the blood, but please, refrain from killing people at a funeral."
He mentally reminded himself that the boy was still reeling from the sudden loss of his sister when gold eyes leveled a cold, cold glare on him.
"I wasn't going to kill the fucking bitch," he snapped out tersely.
Timoteo eyed the bloody sword in Squalo's hands skeptically.
"Then please refrain from maiming people at a funeral at the very least, even if they're trying to make off with a piece of your inheritance. I have no doubt that your sister would've closed off all possible loopholes for them to use, anyways."
The blonde woman was still screaming like a banshee, even as she was bodily dragged off by two of his men. Several other relatives of the Squalo House shot her nervous glances before slanting their gazes back to the new Lord Squalo –upon which they immediately blanched and hurried off to make conversation with some of the other, less violent attendees, of the funeral.
(Timoteo couldn't blame them for doing so. He might've felt inclined to inch away, too, if he were in their position.)
Then again.
He'd seen how Superbi Squalo interacted with his son, Xanxus –and while others tiptoed cautiously around his youngest son in fear of incurring his wrath, Squalo was the complete opposite. It was a far cry from how the boy was acting right now, eyes cold and empty and lost and…
…
Well, it couldn't hurt.
"I won't pretend to understand what she was thinking at the time." Judging by the way the silver-haired boy's shoulders stiffened, Squalo knew that he was referring to her sister. An understandably sore topic at the moment, but something that needed to be said. "But I know she would always put her family and House first before anything else. We started off on the wrong foot when she approached me to manipulate the Vongola for her own goals, yes, but… I cannot say I wouldn't do the same if our positions were reversed. She is someone worth respecting. I admit that."
He took the silver-haired boy's silence as a good sign to continue.
"She was a clever girl. Knowing how to bide her time and hide her strength. Downright cunning, when the time called for it. Yet she was still able to uphold the honor of her House." How strange, these words coming out of his mouth. When had he become fond of the girl? When had she stopped being a tool and an enemy in his eyes? Certainly, there were still lingering feelings from those thoughts, but every word he spoke was true. "… She does the Squalo name proud."
And this time around, he meant those words.
"I didn't hate her, not like the rumors said. Maybe we would've even been able to clear the bad blood between us eventually." A twinge of something wistful in his voice, perhaps? He chanced another look at the tight-faced boy. "I confess that I had hoped to see her in my family one day. She would've been a good daughter."
Could-have's and would've-been's and should've been's.
He'd spent too much time on analyzing her motives and trying to figure out her secrets, always seeing her as a possible enemy to Vongola –and while what little he'd discovered had certainly impressed him, it seemed that he'd been a little too late in showing his approval of her. In extending that olive branch of peace, instead of waiting for her to make the first concession. The Vongola Famiglia stood at the top of Italy, and that would've damaged their prestige if he'd…
… Did she know, perhaps? That even if he'd wanted to –his hands were tied?
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
"If you need some time off from the Varia, I grant you permission to do so." He patted the silver-haired boy on the shoulder before turning to leave. "If you wish to resign –I also grant my permission. Send me a word later, and I'll tell Tyr."
He didn't receive a response. He hadn't expected one, not immediately.
…
Stella Squalo.
Such a strange little girl.
If only she had lived… If only she hadn't died… If only she'd eventually decided to…
If only, if only, if only…
…
XCV.
"What are your plans from now on?"
Faust couldn't bring himself to look the old butler in the eye anymore, even when the words were delivered to him in a warm, even tone. Not after…
"I can't stay." Too many memories. Too many ghosts. Too much guilt. He wouldn't be able to stay in the Squalo Manor and remain sane anymore. "I think… I'll be heading to France. I have family there, it's high time I checked up on them… last I heard, I've got a little nephew asking after my whereabouts."
Alfredo nodded slowly.
"Maybe I'll drop Lancia a visit before I go. Said I'd do him a favor eventually. Haven't seen him for awhile, either."
Silence fell between the two men.
Moments passing by, falling like sand in an hourglass.
He couldn't take the silence anymore.
"… Do you blame me?" In a way, he'd almost expected the words that'd burst forth from his mouth.
Do you blame me for her death? Do you blame me for not being there? Do you blame me for letting this happen?
…
I do.
Alfredo sighed. The sound was unusually low and heavy.
"No. I don't blame you, Faust…" The butler who was usually impeccable and on top of everything sounded tired. "If anything, I blame myself."
"You too, huh?" The younger man let out a bitter laugh, realizing that they shared the same guilt in their minds. He reached a hand up to rub at the new scar running along the side of his throat, a well-deserved reminder and punishment. "Damn. Damn it all. She… she always does this, doesn't she? She'll smile and tell you nothing's wrong, and as soon as you turn around, you realize that she's… that she's…"
"That does seem to be the little miss' style, doesn't it?" A dry touch to the old Majordomo's voice as he agreed with him. "If she saw us like this, she'd probably be giving us that small frown of hers and chiding us for blaming ourselves."
"True."
Another silence; this one more companionable than the one before, though no less heavy.
"I'll be staying here." Alfredo suddenly said, and Faust listened quietly to the old butler. "No matter what the young master decides, I'll stay here at the manor. If he is determined to remain in the Varia instead of assuming his duties as His Lordship, I will respect his wishes and keep the affairs of the Squalo House in order until such a time comes that he chooses to retire."
"Yeah, you'll probably have to do that," Faust nodded. "Given what happened to his father and his sister… did you know that people are flipping back in history accounts and saying that all Lords and Ladies of the Squalo House have some madness rooted in their minds? That that is how they all ended up dead? It's not necessarily true, but… even if we discount that, I don't think he'll be able to stay in the manor anymore. He'll always be living with her ghost if he does, and that's not… he doesn't need…"
A final silence between the two.
There was nothing more to say.
"I believe I will be taking my leave now, Faust." The old Majordomo extended a gloved hand towards his long-time partner, "The doors of our House will always be open to you."
"… Thanks." Faust reached out shakily and gripped the old butler's hand in a firm handshake, before giving a small laugh. "But don't expect to be seeing me around here anytime soon. Take care, Alfredo."
"Likewise."
And so they parted.
XCVI.
Control: System broadcast. Repeat: system broadcast. The security breach has been terminated. The lockdown will now be lifted. Resume all operations.
…
…
…
No one knew.
No one knew when Marion began operating as per normal again. No one knew that Marion had even paused all operations in the first place. Some might've suspected it, but no one knew.
Yet.
All agents were perfectly aware of it when the flames within them flickered and fell asleep; when new flames swept in and gently wreathed their souls once more, breathing life into their bodies.
This flame was bright and strong, but… alien.
Because while their bodies might've accepted these flames, they weren't the flames they recognized with their hearts and minds.
All Marion agents knew how they were recruited into the network. And they were grateful for it.
Burning to death. Drowning. Having their flesh stripped away from their bones, bit by bit. They were seen as worthless by the rest of society, or shunned by those they had once called friends. They knew of pain and betrayal and loss; greater than anyone else would ever know –and it forged a certain sort of kinship between them.
They had all cried out for someone to save them.
And their cries had been answered by Marion.
Marion, who shared with them a spark of life. A spark of power. A spark of will.
This new Marion was powerful and strong, yes, but…
… It wasn't their Marion.
But.
The flames of their Marion had stepped down and accepted the flames of this new Marion; and they all bowed to Marion's will.
XCVII.
"I love you, Superbi."
Fucking. Hell.
"I love you, Superbi."
What did she mean by that? Was this why she'd repeated those words to him that night, again and again?
"I love you, Superbi."
She was… dead.
Dead.
Dead.
If it hadn't been for the Vongola's presence –he probably would've went ahead and killed each and every one of those so-called 'well-wishers.' As it was, more than a few people had been carted off to the hospital today.
His sister was dead.
Stella was dead.
It was… unthinkable.
He could still see her smile, still feel her arms wrapped around him, still remember the way she gently pressed her lips to his forehead as if he was that little child seeking comfort–
He remembered their father's funeral.
It'd been a clear, cloudless day, just like this one. So many mafia associates and relatives lining the lawn, all murmuring their condolences while nasty whispers and mocking jibes filled the back rows.
He remembered crying. Crying.
And Stella had been strong for the both of them; a detached smile on her face and a frosty glitter in her eyes as she warded off their power-hungry kin and declared that she would assume the role of Lady Squalo in the aftermath of their father's death.
And now she was gone.
It… it felt almost surreal, when Faust first broke the news to him. And when those words had finally sunken in, when he whirled on Alfredo for denial, only to see that same somber look on the old butler's face–
He'd very nearly killed Faust that day as his sword slashed at the man's throat, with her words still ringing in his ears.
"I love you, Superbi."
None of them had known. It wasn't their fault. Logically, he knew that, but his mind hadn't been logical at the time. Still wasn't completely logical, if he was honest with himself. He'd destroyed half the manor as he went on a rampage –a rage-filled fervor of grief and denial that Xanxus of all people had to be called in to pull him out of; disarming and wrestling him to the ground and pinning him there until his strength left his body and he finally stopped struggling.
(None of his family could stand on the same combat level as him anymore. When had becoming strong made him into a danger to his own family?)
And then his Boss had demanded why he was acting fucking psychotic–
"I love you, Superbi."
He could still feel her fingers combing through his hair, a gentle smile gracing her lips.
… Why?
Why hadn't she fucking told any of them?!
Because she wanted to keep you safe.
Oh, that sounded like his sister, alright.
…
Still.
He'd even sensed something wrong that night. And when his shitty Boss had swept into the Varia training room that day and bluntly asked him if his sister was having a relapse of some sort– and if Xanxus of all people was asking, then–
Why hadn't he refused that mission? Why hadn't he listened to his gut instinct and gone home to check on her? Whywhywhy?
"I love you, Superbi."
…
He let out a choked laugh, because all he'd done that night was roll his eyes and hug her like he always did instead of doing what he should've done. He should've tied her to her bed and called in Alfredo and Faust to make sure she stayed there before going through the records of her latest activities and finding whatever motherfucking fucker was trying to fuck up his sister, because he was going to fucking end them –if she hadn't done so already.
Fuck.
Fuck.
…
When had been the last time that he'd told his sister he loved her?
…
XCVIII.
Xanxus hadn't believed her to be dead. Not at first, anyways.
The old butler of the Squalo House had called him over that day –he'd only had to take one look at the chaotic situation before diving head-first into the middle of it all and trying to get the shark to calm the hell down, because if he kept at it any longer, there wasn't going to fucking even be a Squalo Manor anymore when he was done with his hissy fit.
And when he finally heard the news, something roared in his ears and his first instinct had been denial.
Xanxus knew.
He knew that others thought she was nothing if not weak and helpless, but hadn't she proved herself to be different from what those rumors said? Shouldn't her family know that better than anyone else? Didn't they even give a crap about–
And then he saw the body.
(The old butler had dragged the shitty shark off to some obscure room in what remained of the manor to 'treat his injuries.' Squalo had been too out of it to protest –and Xanxus was perceptive enough to see that neither of the two men involved in this wanted their young master to see his sister's body.)
…
The only thing that he recognized on that corpse was her silver hair.
"I didn't believe my eyes at first, either. I… Fuck, I mean, I was her tutor, and I always knew that her Mist flames were strong… but to think she'd been hanging on to life through sheer willpower alone these past few years… I… I just don't…"
"Shut up."
Dried blood. Shriveled skin. Rotten flesh.
A corpse that'd been dead for years.
Some primal part of him had lashed out in anger against what little control he kept over his temper, while another part admitted itself to be grudgingly impressed by this latest show of strength. This last show of strength. He'd barely managed to retain control of his flames before leaving –the Squalo House still had an alliance with Vongola, Lady Squalo dead or not; burning down the rest of the manor was counterproductive to what he was originally asked here for, anyways– and upon returning to the Varia training quarters, he'd destroyed three of the steel-enforced training rooms. Consecutively.
…
It was frustrating.
The anger, he could understand. It was the shitty shark's sister that had just died, after all. As a Boss, letting his subordinate's family die when he was obligated to protect them spoke of failure on his behalf and, damn it all, Xanxus didn't tolerate failures. Not from anyone, and least of all himself; because failures spoke of weakness, and he was not weak.
(She wasn't supposed to be fucking weak, either.)
He felt anger. Anger at a failure that he should've seen coming.
What was it that the Lady Squalo had said again that day?
"Please take care of my brother, Xanxus."
Something had been off about her expression when she'd said it, the tenor of her voice. He'd even confronted the shitty shark about it later in the Varia headquarters, and while he had his instinct confirmed by the girl's brother, it still–
It hadn't been enough.
No.
It was never enough.
There'd always been something different about her. He'd known that. There'd always been something about her that challenged him whenever their eyes met. Something that always spoke of understanding, too, contradicting as it sounded. She had a tendency to regard most at arm's length, forever keeping that tentative distance between them.
…
Xanxus didn't care.
She'd always been something that was unreachable.
XCIX.
Once upon a time, there was a silver-haired girl.
She was born with an illness. A rather queer and obscure one, one that surfaced periodically from time to time within the illustrious Squalo lineage –an illness that hadn't been seen for quite a few decades now. Death always came quickly to those unlucky enough to be afflicted with it, the disease known to attack the corporeal body before turning its attention onto the flames within; eventually consuming themindbefore leaving the victim as naught but a hollow, empty shell.
Stella Squalo died a long time ago.
Before she died at Byakuran's hands. Before her diseased body had withered away. Before she'd even taken her first breath of life in this world.
She'd experienced the miracle of reincarnation.
Was it a miracle of cruelty?
Reborn into a world of cruelty; where enemies surrounded her on all sides. Never allowed to let her guard down when she smiled at her associates, for they would stab her in the back as soon as they sensed any weaknesses. Where she had to claw her way to the top of this cutthroat world in order to protect what was dear to her.
Was it a miracle of mercy?
Given a second chance to live where others had faded into dust, retaining memories that were her greatest weapons. Able to form bonds with the few loved ones who truly cared for her, to love and be loved; even with the knowledge that their time would be fleeting. Where she was able to fight with every scrap of strength she had for a cause she truly believed in.
It is undeniable that Stella Squalo is a strange girl.
Was a strange girl.
Why, you might ask?
Never once had she truly feared death.
C.
Her name is Stella.
She is the star that lights the path of her House and leads us to glory.
Her name is Marion.
She is the star of the sea; whose radiant light illuminates the shadowed souls of those who are lost under relentless waves. She is the one who gives them new will and new purpose to anchor themselves in the precipice of this world. She is the child who opens the eyes of the blind ones so they might gaze upon hope and live once more.
She defies death time and time again, before finally walking to it with open arms; head held high and heart secure in the knowledge that she has completed what she set out to do. That she has protected the ones she cherishes. That she has fulfilled her purpose.
But who can she tell? Who will understand?
…
Her life has been meaningful.
Or so she likes to think.
…
…
…
What say you, dear reader?
There are many "what if's" in this world, but the only ones that matter are "what is."
...
But what's more important, really?
The "what if," the "what is"… or the "what will be?"
.
…
.
Author's Notes:
Another fast update, since I always post chapters as soon as I finish. xD Keep an eye out for any errors you see in the text; I'd be very grateful for the help.
...
So.
Y'know how I said this is going to be the final chapter?
Well, I lied. xD
… Kind of.
Yes, this is the last chapter, but there's going to be an "epilogue," since… I dunno, technically the story is finished, but… it just doesn't feel quite right to throw in the towel here, and since a lot of people have asked about the possible future, so… :3 Yup, there's going to be an epilogue. Don't be expecting another story arc or something, though. xD Epilogue means EPILOGUE.
I've gotten a couple of PMs and reviews before about people asking me to write an alternate ending for Stella where she survives. And. Well. I've briefly considered writing something for it occasionally, but thing is –I've always planned for Stella to die at the end of the story, so… (trails off awkwardly)
… Anyways. We've finally made it this far. 100 drabbles exactly (discounting the Dino bonus), and just a little bit more to go. ;3 Thanks for reading up till this point, everyone. We're almost done.
This is going to be the end of the road –and after I finish typing up the epilogue, "Polaris" will be officially completed.
Please feel free to PM or review if you have any more questions about the story at this point, I'll be happy to clear up whatever stuff that happens to still be confusing you.
Epilogue, here we come.
-XxZuiliu