Chapter 20: Fir and Forsythia, Passing Time and Anticipation

Intermission.

Time passes slowly, and fact though it was, it was something that Xanxus refused to ever admit. It had been he, of course, who had sent Miyu the money she needed for her business. Of course. He wouldn't have allowed anyone else to.

There was a knock on the door, and he turned his scarlet eyes in it's direction.

"Fuck off."

There was a pause, a shuffle, and whoever it was scampered away.

"Che. Fucking scum."

He lazily stirred his drink by twisting the glass around-it was a light and crisp wine, Gavi dei Gavi, actually, the most expensive white wine in Italy-and he leaned back, feeling the sunlight filtering through the skylight he'd had fitted upon his installation as the master of the base. He'd only done it because it reminded him of those days, those summers. He could see it, in those moments, reclining in his chair, the bright blue sky over his head (albeit through bullet proof glass), his childhood. His head tilted back, his hand so close to Miyu's, the warmth of the sun permeating every pore of his body and Miyu's hair-the girl in his memory was kneeling at his side now, her face a sweet shade for his eyes-had been lit up like a crown of dark, rich gold, and he felt as though he had won all his battles, had finished fighting.

He hadn't, though, and living too peacefully would bore him. And he was getting antsy, being cooped up as he was. He knew everything about it know. The deal Miyu made with his adoptive father. He felt heat in his hands from just the thought.

He had let her go because he thought she wanted to, and maybe she did, he couldn't really know, but damn if he didn't like the idea of possibility. Possibility was acceptable only when it was in his favor, and he hated the idea of having been-duped. He had let Miyu go because he had thought she wanted to, and finding out she had done it for his sake (it was an entirely unnecessary sacrifice) was more than he could bear. Back then, at least. He had been imprisoned by Vongola for a year. Solitary confinement. It was like being frozen, he mused, except he didn't think of that, ever. And then he had been sentenced to two more years under house arrest, albeit in the comfort of his own base. (As opposed to locked up under Vongola).

When he had at last returned, the Varia had lined up to meet him. Minus Squalo, of course. The white-haired swordsman had been running the Varia on his own in his absence, and he had been holed up in a little makeshift office in the room next to the one he (occasionally, it had become, since Xanxus had been imprisoned) slept in. The king had returned to his throne. He was once again the commander of the most deadly team of fighters on the face of the earth, and the world had begun to move again. Still, though, it wasn't enough.

A year had passed. He had been holed up under the Vongola base for a year. He had turned twenty-five in a deep, dark hole in the ground. And had he been a lesser man, during those long, long days and endless nights, he might have fallen into some black pit of despair-that room might have been the end of him.

There were no comforts there-no alcohol to numb his mind, no luxury to remind him of his status, no softness in the dark. No Miyu to make him forget the walls, to lose himself in, nothing at all but confinement. Confinement. How he hated that word. But he was beyond that-far beyond that. It was nothing more than a distant, passing thought. A year imprisoned. Another with his team bound to their native land, unable to set foot outside of Italy, to send someone to Japan. He turned twenty-six then, in his base, with a bottle of alcohol, with his subordinates all but trembling in the shadows. There was no anger, no hostility in his body now, not the kind, at least, that he had always had. Now there was a slow, simmering, ever-present rage, a deep, resenting hatred, a slow-burning wrath. He was still, in comparison to all others, quick of temper and dangerous in that, but he had refined his defining trait to an exquisitely sharp blade, an overwhelming heat, and it could not, would not, be overcome by any other such force in the world, for nothing existed to match it. He was truly the most fearsome man in the world now.

It was the product of his confinement, he might have mused, had he actually cared to note such changes in himself. An entire year to boil over, to slow to a simmer, to go from wild, spitting embers to sinuous tongues of flame, lashing back and forth, darker, terrible, a force to truly be reckoned with. He was Xanxus, and he had truly reached, in terms of power, a high, high place. He had truly earned the predatory grace he bore himself with now. He was leaner, more lithe in figure but with more power in every movement. He was danger, power, pride incarnate. And he was once again king.

Two years passed-then six months. He had been sentenced to three years all together, one alone, rotting beneath the Vongola, two a prisoner in his own house. He had months left, but he could feel that things were changing. It had been a most curious stroke of fortune, but his luck indeed was turning-it had all begun with what was known now in the mafia world as Il Massacro di Giappone, the Massacre of Japan.

It was all over the mafia world. The Vincere Famiglia (it had since been made a public declaration of war) had attacked and overrun Japan.

Someone knocked on the door, nearly smashing it in.

"VOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, WE'RE BEING ATTACKED AGAIN! WHAT DO YOU WANT US TO DO?"

Yes, the Vincere Famiglia had attacked Japan, intent on taking down the next generation of the Vongola. Sawada and his pathetic excuses of guardians were weak (he conveniently decided to ignore the fact theoretically, based on the result of the Ring Battles, they were stronger) and had been, for all intents and purposes, overrun. Yes, the situation in Japan was dire. And that is exactly where Xanxus' luck took a turn for the better.

"Kill them all."

There was an angry huff through the door and then fading, irritated footsteps. Xanxus swirled his drink around in the bottle and let loose that slow-burn smile that always made Miyu shiver. Yes, things were turning out nicely.

By order of the Vongola IX, the Vongola Independent Assassination Unit, known as "Varia," were to resume full duties and were released from their confinement to Italy. It was imperative that reinforcements be sent to the Vongola at once: there were no others who were capable of leading a search and rescue mission in Japan at that time. Japan had been overrun, and after discussion with the Outside Advisor, it had been decided that there were no other alternatives.

Well, Xanxus could say that the old man was many things, but never a fool. There were no other options. Who else could possibly survive the chaos that was Japan? It was a war zone, and when they went in it was to be assumed that they would have no allies. The Vongola X and his guardians had not yet been in contact, and they were all presumed dead until proven otherwise. That's where the Varia came in. It was ironic, really, but that's how things worked.

"Requesting permission to enter, Boss."

Xanxus rolled his eyes at the door and his Lightning guardian behind it and polished off the last of his vodka. So maybe a bottle was a little bigger than a glass. Whatever.

"Be quick, trash."

Levi entered eagerly, placing the folder in his hands on Xanxus' desk-as if he would ever actually read that bullshit.

"Boss, Squalo sent me to notify you that it is time to leave, as I had of course already finished packing with time to spare so that I could be of more use to the Boss. Your bags have been packed and stowed on the plane, and I personally oversaw the stocking of your alcohol supply. It is ready to travel with you as we speak."

For a moment, in that boyishly eager face, Xanxus saw the child that he had met so many years ago. That kid getting his ass kicked by some low-class, drunk mafioso. He had just been back from his week with Miyu, back to the mafia world he lived in, and he was feeling nostalgic. He had, though, still planned to ignore the damn kid-no older than thirteen, maybe, and in any case, getting the shit beat out of him would toughen him up-until he heard the men talk. They had been planning to do something else, and it certainly wasn't going to stop at beating the shit out of the boy. And that, in his current state of mind-she was making him soft, damn it, and what the hell was up with that kiss on the cheek, anyway-was not acceptable.

He killed them. All five of them. In a single bout of flame. And then he turned to the kid without pity and said, "Get up." The boy's boxers were down at his ankles, along with his pants, and he had a look of fury and fear plastered on to his face. He was crying, and Xanxus could see the absolute loathing in his eyes. It almost reminded him of himself, except, of course, less impressive. That was before he knew true rage, though, before Cradle, shortly before the Varia. He walked away, and the kid had followed him ever since.

He nodded to Levi.

"Fine. Tell them all that if they don't get their asses on the fucking plane in ten minutes, they're dead."

Levi nodded smartly, his hand twitching as if he wanted to salute him, but turned on his heel and left, doing his best to ensure that everything would go smoothly for the man who had saved him from a fate worse than death on a whim.

With a yawn, and knowing that some subordinate or another would ensure that his beloved chair made it onto the plane before he did, or there would be fucking hell to pay, Xanxus stood, stretched languidly, and left his office, that same, worn letter, creased as it was from being read, abandoned on his desk.

I won't bother addressing this, because you know who it's for. I don't know if you'll have my memories or not-not that it really matters. You need to get a fucking move on. Time passes quick. Ever heard of the Bovino famiglia? Lower class scum, I know. But they're important. Have someone look into their secret weapon development programs. Key word: Time travel. In any case, remember the brat that challenged us? The Cloud brat? She lives with him. Fucking Japanese brats must have pulled some strings to get her roped into it. You've got to fix things or we'll lose her all over again. The Vongola brats are trying to change the future, their future. Your future too. If they succeed, things will turn out really differently. In my timeline, I brought her to base and cut all her ties to the Vongola about seven years into your future. Find a way back to her before then, or we've lost. I've already lost her. You don't have to.

Kokuyo Health Land Spa

5-8, Yaesu 4-Chome

Kokuyo, Yokohama 841-1111

Behind the stairs there's a door. It leads to a parking lot. Beneath that there's a janitorial closet. Half of the wall was blasted off a long time ago, it connects to the old spa facilities and the food court. The whole place is ready to crumble. That's the place.

Send Bel.

On the plane, Xanxus reclined in his usual slothful manner, his body dropped languidly into his throne, but his eyes were sharp. It was oddly quiet on the plan-everyone was thinking.

Squalo, as it would have been, was so eager to at last start fighting that he had gone entirely silent, choosing instead to sit stock still in his seat, his sword hand twitching every other moment or so in anticipation. Whenever he was truly excited, he was silent. It was easy to figure out, really, given that the only times he was quiet was whenever he was fighting a strong opponent. There was a pounding in his ears, an internal storm, raging, raging, and he could not wait-they had been confined to base too long, and just as Xanxus in the silence of his prison had refined his anger from something crude to some sinuous, primal thing, so had they all been sharpened, honed by his absence. It had been far too long since Squalo had been in a real fight, enjoyed a challenge.

Belphegor was silent too-not even laughing, with a dimmer than a thousand watts smile. The prince was curious…quite curious…Why on earth was the boss sending him to some rickety little structure in the town neighboring Nanimori? The look in the king's eyes reminded him almost of…no, he didn't know what it reminded him of, but it made him want the little queen nearby. He liked the little queen. She was nothing like these peasants.

Levi watched his boss carefully. He could see that alertness in his eyes that signaled immediately (warningly) that he was not half-asleep or pleasantly buzzed (drunk) as he normally was. And that was something to watch out for. If his boss saw fit to deny himself his usual comforts (sleep and alcohol) because he seemed to be waiting for something, then so would he, Levi. He would not be caught off guard by whatever it was his boss was so clearly (in his own way) anticipating. Never.

Lussuria was getting some beauty sleep. Gotta look good when you're kicking ass, right?

Mammon was sitting next to Bel, calculating the amount of money they would save in electricity by at last being let out of the base. There was something off about his blonde companion…he knew that he had been given a mission by Xanxus, well, if an address really counted as a mission, and was curious…

And Xanxus was silent. It was the most still plane ride that the Varia had ever taken, and it wasn't peaceful at all. It was that deceptive calm, that moment of bated breath, slow inhale, stopping. A pause. Because when they landed they all knew that they would be back in the midst of it, that inferno that they craved, their own type of peace.

"Boss?"

Xanxus was drawn from his reverie by an uncommonly straight-laced Bel. He glared at the blonde but other than that stayed stock still where he sat.

"What, trash?"

A sinisterly wide grin broke slowly onto the prince's face as he looked upon his boss. In his pliable, skilled hands he polished one of those silver-bladed knives that were the last sight of so many, and it was obvious that he was nearly trembling in excitement.

"We've arrived…"

Upon hearing that, Xanxus froze and then gave his subordinate a small, curt nod.

Somehow, the way Belphegor bounded past the rest of the Varia and leapt out of the plane door, laughing all the way did nothing but increase the eagerness of the assassination team. There was something in that…and there was the general feeling that things were going to start happening…and that was just the way they liked it.

"Boss?"

Xanxus was the last out of the plane, his eyes smoldering on the distant horizon. Smoke rose from decimated buildings, ruin as far as the eye could see. He stood, looking over his subordinates, and then, with a sudden, predatory movement he tensed as if to pounce, lowered his gaze in shivering anticipation, and looked up, seemingly ignoring his subordinates attention raptly turned to him.

"Begin."

There was no time for even a single, tense moment of silence, the exact second in which that word had slipped so carelessly, so dangerously from his mouth, his team had lunged. They all had their roles to play, and they all knew them to a tee.

"Ushishishishi…The prince is wondering what it is that lurks here? A little beastie, perhaps? More peasants? A monster…?"

Belphegor dropped in from an opening in the roof silently, without so much as a sigh. This place was truly as crumbly and gross as the king had said. Of course, "king" was an honorary title for his boss, but…Bel nimbly leapt out of the way of something odd.

"Ushishishishi, who dares attack the prince?"

It was round, yes, cylindrical, actually, and it was zipping back and forth on a piece of string. Little sharp things shot out of it. Annoyed, Bel twitched a finger and the annoying thing fell. There. That was better. He was about to continue on his merry, stealthily silent-as-the-grave way when something lunged at him. Whatever it was, it smelled, and the prince was beginning to think himself prophetic when a feral snarl erupted from behind him and he dodged what were probably teeth trying to lodge themselves deep into the flesh of his shoulder.

"You suck, Kakipi. Who the hell is this guy, anyway?"

Bel grinned, throwing twelve knives at his…opponent.

"You'll regret addressing the prince so rudely, little beastie! Especially since you addressed the peasant first!"

The knives he had thrown seemingly twisted in their trajectory in mid-air and hit the prince's opponent square on. Bel grinned. This was easy! He was almost disappointed. The peasant had run off-presumably to warn his master-and the little beastie was out for the count. If he moved, after all, he would be decapitated. While it was tempting to simply…end him, right then, right there, Bel was curious as to what his mission truly was and abandoned his toy, despite how interested he was in finding out whether it was a proper beastie or some particularly hideous peasant. Oh well, he could dissect the beastie later.

"Oh? What have we here…?"

Bel looked up at the voice, seeing a gleam of red in the darkness, a glint of silver. He grinned. Finally. Something worth the prince's time. The monster.

"Ushishishishi, you picked a bad time to stumble across the prince, you know. The prince is busy. He will, perhaps, consent to spending a few minutes gracing you with his presence. But he has other things to do…"

He sent thirty knives at his opponent all at once and dodged a trident-like blade that swept out in front of him as if to slice right through his jugular and finish him right then and there. He knew about this sharp thing, yes he did, and there wasn't even the slightest way in hell that he would permit it to cut him. The king had given him a strange command, after all, and he was curious to get to the bottom of it. They fought that way for a short while, until the monster clearly tired of having to dodge and twist in strange ways to avoid the razor sharp, nearly invisible wires that had by now been ingeniously arranged around the room and raised his staff. Belphegor blinked and his smirk grew.

"The prince cannot be fooled by illusions~"

No, he couldn't, but the attempt-weak one though it had been-had served to remind him of his duties. With a snap of his hand, the wires constricted into a web that served as a sort of wall of death-no one would pass it and live.

"The prince thanks you, little monster, for your time, but he really must be going now-"

Mukuro Rokudo watched the blonde Varia member leave with an inscrutable look in his eyes. He could, of course, easily dispatch the wires in front of him, but he really didn't feel like being bothered.

"Master Mukuro?"

Chikusa was a bit hesitant, but Mukuro was in a good mood and so answered him in good humor. It had been an entertaining battle, after all, and he was a bit curious as to what the supposed prince was here for, though he had a very particular idea.

"Yes, Chikusa? What is it?"

The boy in the white beanie looked in the direction the blonde maniac had gone in.

"What should be done about him?"

Mukuro was glanced thoughtfully in the direction of the wires and Chikusa cursed the fact that he had been beaten so easily. Mukuro shrugged, a light dancing about in his eyes.

"Just leave him. I have a feeling he's here for what Tsuna left with us. In any case, we are under orders solely to defend from the enemy. He is not the enemy. Therefore it is no business of ours what he does, so long as it doesn't affect me negatively. Kufufufufufufu, I'm sure that the boss will not mind me leaving his precious, precious treasure in more capable hands, no?"

Bel continued along the crumbling corridor and thought with disgust that this place was entirely unbefitting for royalty such as himself. He stopped when he heard voices and stooped stealthily into a predator's crouch, biting back a gleeful laugh as he readied his knives to round the corner. There was a woman and a man…

"Maa, maa, don't worry, Auntie. They're fine. Tsuna is really strong."

"Takeshi-How can I not worry? He-he hasn't called or anything? What if-what if-"

She broke off from the horrid thought and bit back a scream when Bel dropped down in front of her. The little queen! What luck! He grinned so widely that Yamamoto observed to himself that it really as a wonder that his face didn't break. Miyu-who looked no different than she had three years ago-stared in wonder.

"You-ah, I apologize for my rudeness, but-you…you…Xanxus! You're with Xanxus-"

There was a sudden flare of hope, a fluttering feeling in Miyu's heart, as she stared at the blonde prince. Belphegor's grin grew.

He had found his objective.

Fir (Genus Abie): Evergreen tree with needle-shaped leaves. Passing Time. Forsythia (Genus Forsythia): Yellow-flowering bush that flowers in early spring. Anticipation.

Yoshi is missing. We had only thirty minutes of warning before the attack. I don't know where Nana is, only that Reborn managed to send her away. I am with Takeshi, in what used to be Kokuyo Health Land. There is a boy here, Mukuro is his name. They say he was released from prison because of the war. Yoshi sent me here to be safe. Everything has changed.

Fir and Forsythia/End.