Dioscuri

37: Ars Moriendi

The Oxford-shod foot tapped on the floor of the arrivals hall. "I hope they are alright."

With a smile on her face, Elmo leant close to him. "They have cleared customs. Now it remains to secure their luggage."

"I know. Thanks for the assurance, anyway." The foot stopped. His right hand then decided to drum a tattoo on the arm of the multi-chair bench that he had secured on one end, with Elmo right next to him. "Gokudera's busy."

"He has a call." Elmo frowned, her eyes rolling in her skull. "From his father. Since Bianchi is gone, it seems like, I quote directly, Gokudera feels that his father 'was bound to acknowledge his bastard son' and, again quote, Gokudera-san 'wants nothing of it'."

The brown-haired man in the suit looked at her. He stared across the arrivals hall, where a silver head was bent down, talking, presumably, into a cellphone. "How are you... listening?"

"Cellphone signal. Easy to hack. Ōtan would have found it even easier."

"Hmm." The man settled down, studying the glass panels that separated the waiting area from the arrivals hall. The usual crowd of an international airport milled about, some carrying indicator cards for whoever they were waiting for, and more than one tour group. "You know what else would have been easier? If Yamamoto and Sasagawa had just accepted the jet."

"In that we are in agreement, though I believe they wanted to keep a lower profile." Elmo quietly said. "I did volunteer my suggested plan."

The man rolled his eyes. "It was a suggested plan. Delaying them to miss their flight is not something that merits deploying two Mist-primary units to distract them by any means necessary up to slight maiming. In fact, it would be counter-productive if they discovered you girls."

"Yes, Papa." Elmo paused. "You have a dinner appointment with Master Verde. Where?"

"Sichuan. There's this Chengdu restaurant, Qin Shan Zhai. Master Verde works so much, he needs some medicinal soup."

"What about the time difference?"

"Time-" the other sighed. "I forgot. There's that trattoria... Koyo's place in Enna? The fusion cuisine one?"

"Sending choice to #E4DC8A. Approval received, appointment fixed. Is there anything else?"

"Is Skull-san doing alright?"

"His revival tour went quite smoothly." Elmo replied without missing a beat. "If you wish, I will dispatch another unit to welcome him."

"No, he said he'll take a plane. The Arcobaleno are all coming in, and he doesn't want to be caught out by Mammon-san."

Elmo considered the statement. "I believe Mammon to require elimination."

"Mammon-san will keep quiet for however long she values money over her life." The other corrected. "Besides, the Tri-Ni-Sette was bad to her as well. I would prefer to defer that judgement to Skull-san, Amaya."

Elmo peered around. "Papa, I do not think this is a smart course."

"No, she won't say anything yet." The brown-haired man considered. "You're sure that Checker Face will appear at the Commission gathering?"

"The mitochondrial genetic marker that we isolated from the sample Papa obtained and matched with the living man indicated as such." Elmo reported quietly. "Not to mention, this is the largest group of Mafia gathering since the fall of the Millefiore. The man would like to know of the Mare and Vongola Rings. Under these conditions, he is likely to appear, though the event occurrence cannot be ascertained even from Helene."

"Got it. Tell your sister to keep an eye on that marker." The brown-haired man yawned slightly. "Speaking of which, I need to find a present for the two of you."

"Rewards are not needed for doing our jobs, Papa."

The man sighed. "You're still my good girls. Efficient, purposeful, obedient. Too obedient," he added quietly under his breath. "Midori's purpose places us at opposites, and Ōtan cannot disobey. She will keep him safe, though. But it must hurt you, to hunt your siblings like this now."

"The Big Seven were created to serve only the seven Guardians." Her words were blunt, if spoken quietly. "We will need to reconsider priorities to change their behavioural functions."

She considered him. "A nap would seem more refreshing to you."

"I don't need a nap. Amaya," he added.

"Physiologically speaking." Elmo corrected. "A power nap would, however, work as a de-fragmentation to decide about the Big Seven."

"We are in the middle of an airport," the creator of the world's most extreme Box Weapons reasoned, ignoring her comparison to a computer.

Elmo stood up. She moved to her left, that left one chair between them. She looked towards a woman laid out on another of the benches covered in jackets to keep warm, and then she sat down with two expectant slaps on her thighs.

"I am here with you."

"...seriously? No."

Gokudera finally hung up, storming back to them. "Ah- Amaya-san? The Tenth is sleeping on your lap..."

"Yes. Papa was apparently so excited about Sasagawa-san and Yamamoto-san, he couldn't sleep until very late last night."

"Damn them for troubling the Tenth in his dreams!" The cigarette that Gokudera held, despite the prominent No-Smoking sign on the far wall, gleamed the scarlet of a Storm Flame. "Tenth..."

"Are you troubled, Gokudera-san?"

"It's nothing, Amaya-san." The silver-haired man fingered the cigarette, taking a drag from it. "It's... my sister. Poison Scorpion Bianchi, master of Poison Cooking."

"Oh?"

"She disappeared a year ago." Gokudera contemplated the smoke trail from his cigarette. "And now, the old man's calling me back to take over the Famiglia, since he doesn't have a legal heir. Che, I'm an embarrassment to him but he comes to me only when this thing happens?! I will serve the Tenth!"

"But... Papa won't be the Tenth after the sixth," Amaya pointed out innocently.

Gokudera deflated. "...He retired for you, you know. After losing his father, mother and brother, I guess the Tenth wanted you away from us made men. He made his bones quite well, I heard. Almost no witnesses."

Elmo knew. She had been told when Sawada Iemitsu became a witness to his son officially making his bones, and had even witnessed it herself while connecting points through time. It had been a very large factor towards Papa's assassinations of the Vongola old guard – clearing the path when Sawada Tsunayoshi could become a civilian again without the threat of exposure.

"But he loves you, you know." Gokudera paused. "Well, not, romantically, because of the adoption and all, but... I appreciate that Amaya-san was willing to be adopted even at your age. You saved the Tenth from..."

"Is there anything wrong with my age?" Elmo enquired.

Papa and her had discussed ways to infiltrate the Vongola, up to marrying into the Family. They had determined that button-men were less likely to pay attention to an adopted daughter compared to a girlfriend. The very complicated situation about Hibari Kyoya also meant that girlfriends were simply highlighting the suspicious skylark to investigate Asari Amaya's shaky background some more.

Should I have been younger, thought Elmo. Or older? And should I kill him now? Not possible; directive against unnecessary harm. She considered the protocols set up, and selected one that looked plausible.

"Gokudera-san, I am offended! Are you saying that I'm old?" Eyes tear up. "That the Decimo's ward looks old?!"

"No, no, no, no, not at all!"

"Shh, you'll wake him up!"

"But this would put the information out of our hands," Ietsuna found himself explaining to an adult Verde, a very intimidating German, and another person. Why was he doing this? Wait, he was supposed to be at the airport. A lap pillow. And... a nap.

Oh.

"Information would get out no matter what." Kœnig volunteered. "Brat, you might have secured manufacturing facilities, but it'd be much easier to just sell the plans for the Box Animals."

"Box Weapons are easily developed, as are support Boxes," Ietsuna spoke from memory. "But Box Animals are more complex, but pay off with exponentially more power. If Verde-sensei had issue with one hitman, we're talking about a hitman with a mobile weapon. It's easy to sucker-punch opponents in combat with a Box Animal."

"From what I understand, though," the third member spoke, narrowing his green eyes, "most Box Animals can really only do one thing. And that one thing is sometimes fairly useless."

"I am sure,"Ietsuna repeated from memory, "one day, you'll be surprised how that one thing would save you, Innocenti-san."

Innocenti smiled, right as he stood at the centre of the cathedral, surrounded by the wide stained windows and the ominous iridescent arches of the place. "This success would give you happiness. I'd do anything for that." And he jumped right as the cathedral was being sucked into a spiral of colour-

In the present, Irie Shoichi considered the light lunch that had, inexplicably, ended up at his elbow. An insalata di arance of segmented blood orange, sliced bulb fennel and olive oil arranged like a flower. Minestrone soup with gemelli pasta, made thick and dense in the Trapanese style as the main dish. A stack of cannoli to finish the midday meal, along with a large mug of black coffee, sugar and milk at the side. It was very ordinary, for a meal in the Mezzogiorno.

"Yamabuki. When did this appear?" Shoichi considered the apparently harmless food. "Who made it?"

"#2CA9E1 and #A22041 returned at the same time with Miss I-Pin and Monsieur Fran, replies #F8B500. #2CA9E1 was on hand to stop #A22041 from poisoning Irie-sama. They prepared a light lunch and left it with #F8B500, with explicit instructions to see that Irie-sama ate something. #F8B500 regretfully adds, the galley was out of Conchiglie pasta."

Shoichi started on the simple salad, which he realised was not dressed with simply oil but rather a vinaigrette. The salad gone, he resolved himself to the minestrone. "I don't mind. I'd rather not accidentally eat one of the units again."

"Yes, #F8B500 agrees. It would seem that #2CA9E1 agrees with your assessment after the incident with #F1BF99."

Irie set down the emptied bowl, accepting a serviette which Yamabuki handed to him gingerly. His hands shook at the mention of the twinned units. "I did not mean to eat them."

"It was the fault of #A22041 for preparing #F1BF99 in the shared galley instead of the armoury, corrects #F8B500." A slight pause. "Thankfully, the Administrator was on hand to remove them, otherwise they would have had to risk either passing through the human digestive tract or making like Vatapi and Ilvala."

Shoichi looked to the stack of cannoli. It was very nice cannoli, he was sure, but his appetite had deserted him at the mention of something coming out through his stomach to tear him apart from within. "Yeah. Sure."

A few seconds passed before he collected his thoughts. "Who on earth thought up that design feature?"

"It was a prototype designed in the Falsa Vongole." Yamabuki sounded uninterested as she consulted the screens on the electronic console where Shoichi and his lunch were parked by. "The idea originated from Señor Innocenti, but Maestro made it possible. They worked together on it."

Shoichi looked at her. "How do you know?"

"The memory records from #4F284B indicates as such. #F8B500 has not met the Señor prior to his suicide, replies #F8B500."

Shoichi shook his head. "It was not suicide."

He stood up quietly, walking out.

Immediately, Yamabuki tagged along behind, and the pair of them in yellow walked out of Shoichi's lab to the cathedral-like space. Part of the floor in the centre platform had sunken down, flooding the pool at the centre with a pale liquid like milk, which glimmered and flowed in glass pipes under Shoichi's feet and through the floor. As Shoichi looked at the floor, sparks of colour marked out spheres of colour contained within, which on a closer look either resembled floating pearls, or fish eggs, depending on how one considered things that were machines and barely close to organic life.

"If Irie-sama is disturbed, #F8B500 apologises. However, the memory records from the Administrator, #4F284B and #FFFFFF indicates that Señor Innocenti voluntarily killed himself."

Irie looked at her, and then to a console mounted onto the wall. He looked around; they were alone in this empty, undefined space where organic and electronic structures seemed to mesh perfectly as he typed a line of command and pressed a key. The cathedral's windows shone in red, blue and green to compose white light, a seemingly solid pillar at the cathedral's heart.

"We were testing an idea," Irie began. "A revolutionary idea, you see. I was undercover in the Millefiore, I didn't get involved so much in it... but I knew the theory. The basis was that Flames could contain memories, and that those memories of the dead would continue to animate devices. But the problem with using memories was that there was a risk of the unit rebelling."

Irie swallowed. "We needed Flames, concentrated Flames, but we couldn't have the memories of the people attached. It was an idea against humanity, but in the company of mad scientists, ethics mean very little. Lorenzo... Ietsuna would have been stuck there, if he never figured it out. Then the Vongola dei Cieli's other units would have functioned more like Elmo and the Kusa sisters, rather than like Murasaki and you, Yamabuki."

The light composition changed, and the pool of blue bubbled before the pillar collapsed into the ripples. The cathedral flooded with colour, which shifted from a rainbow to a shade of brilliant gold before it winked out.

A single pearl floated up, shining with aureate light. Irie scooped it up and cracked it on the solid floor, watching as the nacre shell broke to reveal the golden clam nestled within his palm.

"As a 3D printer, the Vongola dei Cieli guaranteed the lives of the scientists who created it." Irie bit his lips. "As a weapon... it could barely think. There was so much untapped power, but it needed intelligence to harness. The very same intelligence that Murasaki showed when she took on the Melone Base alone and won."

"Correction, Irie-sama. #4F284B was in war sortie and had all her daemon units-"

"Yes, but her deployment was spectacular. Flawed, but spectacular." Irie shook his head. "Results like Murasaki's were one in a million. No AI composed by humans right now would have made her. In order to prove the theory that people's Flames could be stored and funnelled into the units, Ietsuna needed results like that. Innocenti had a thought. If the already dead could be used, why not the living?"

Shoichi drew a shaking breath. "There was something wrong with Innocenti-san since Ietsuna-san saved him, you- well, you wouldn't know, Elmo and Murasaki might. The thing is, they were friends, you know. They became very good friends. You know, the thing about meeting a fellow genius, who gets the bit about integrating art and technology and all that. They shared the same vision."

He called us all here, stood at the edge of this pool, and jumped in to let the veligers feed on himself. His Flames left his body, nestling in the Murrina materials, and formed into a yellow pearl, shining like the sun."

He shuddered. "It worked. We created a second unit on par with Murasaki."

"#F8B500 will endeavour to be worthy of the efforts the Masters placed on our creation-" Amber eyes sharpened, and Shoichi flinched as a bullet imploded in mid-air with a flick of yellow flame. "It appears that Irie-sama has accidentally imparted classified information to #F8B500. A cease and desist request has been sent to the Administrator."

"Don't you get it?" He rounded on her. "All of you- aren't you curious about your origins?"

Yamabuki considered. "It does not matter to us."

Shoichi's lips thinned. "I just told you that a dead man's Flames was used to make you."

"#F8B500 does not have any aversion to human decomposition or other moral hangups with regards to the concept of humanity, being a machine. In light of dangers posed to Irie-sama, #F8B500 must wipe her memory files. Retroactively, it is recognised that Irie-sama was trying out the human ritual of confession. Analysing, it is deduced that Irie-sama hopes to sway me to his cause."

Yamabuki's head tilted, as another spark of yellow deflected a bullet pelting at Shoichi. "My origins do not matter. Your confession, Irie-sama, has been accepted. But I am sorry. I must wipe it now, and forget, lest the Administrator targets you again. Irie-sama, why are you crying?"

"Elmo isn't here, so how is she listening?!" Shoichi's mask cracked as his eyes squeezed. "I'm sorry, Yamabuki."

A vacant smile. "Memory deleted."

Her eyes sharpened. "Irie-sama, what are you doing with that promoted unit? It needs to be incubated. Why are you crying?"

Numbly, Shoichi dropped the gold shell into her hand, looking at her empty smile and the light that just partially shone in her eyes as her memory was gone, deleted. "Salt water in the eye. Nothing. Let's take care of the new unit."

Glass shattered. The man sat up.

He blinked, staring as the bandaged fist of Sasagawa Ryohei loomed before him, inevitably flying towards him. "Extremely bad!"

The man's eyes flicked about in that split second. Behind Ryohei was Lambo's grimacing visage, and a red-dressed air stewardess with two bottles of wine in her hands like two clubs.

About to advance upon them was- Yamamoto, who was not smiling.

Oh no. "Get her away."

Elmo's finger flicked.

Behind Ryohei, Yamamoto might have blinked as the air-stewardess disappeared in mid-air from braining Lambo with an excellent Etna Rosso. He did not manage to complete the blink, because Ryohei was tossed onto him, and it was hard to notice when he had just been used as a cushion.

"Yamamoto! Onii-san!" The brown-haired man stood up from the chair, having just tossed aside the Vongola's current Sun Guardian back. "Welcome back!"

"Baseball idiot! Turf-top!" Gokudera barked, arms crossed. "How dare you attack the Tenth and Amaya-san! Do you want me to blow you up!"

"Ha, sorry, but there was a stewardess after Lambo." Yamamoto chuckled. "Yo, Tsuna. Sorry I'm late, but I had to figure out what to get for the old man."

"Tsuyoshi-san will be glad to see you," the other smiled. "We're all beginners at knife work, you know."

"Yamamoto-san," Amaya bowed formally. "Sasagawa-san. Bovino-san. Welcome back."

"Amaya!" Ryohei cheered. "You look extremely wonderful!"

Watching his sunny smile, Elmo smiled neutrally. She did not need a Mist unit to read his mind, to catch the flash of pain in his face. Asari Amaya resembled Sasagawa Kyoko a little too well to save him from the guilt about his sister. "I will take that compliment to heart."

The smile had the added effect of making Lambo jump and duck behind the older Guardians. "A- Amaya-san!"

"Shall we depart? A car awaits us."

"You know, we spotted Aoba in coach," Ryohei mentioned once the black car was rolling on the highway from the airport. The seating was arranged that Lambo was sandwiched between Yamamoto and Ryohei in the back seat. "I wanted to say hello, but..."

A small, but no less painful punch landed on his shoulder. "I understand," said the brown-haired man, who had thrown the punch as he slid back into the driver's seat. "They helped us during the war too. But after Enma's parents were held hostage, it's clear that Vongola cannot give them the protection that they deserve, if they remain in the underworld. That is why we are doing this. So that next year, we'll all be able to enter the Koshien stadium."

Yamamoto blinked, eyeing the roof of the car. There might be something in his eye. "Eh?"

The driver sighed. "The Vongola operates by partible inheritance, you know. Timoteo-jiisan, though, did not want the family to be split between two Bosses, even though Ie deserved his share of it. Ie got Grandpa's trust in Siena instead, but... he died, and I got it. Multiplied, since Ie is better with numbers."

There was a sniff. "I would trade all of that and more for you guys to be safe."

"Tsuna, perhaps you should stop here and let me drive." Yamamoto offered. "And, Dad made me bring some himejako. Eat sushi and feel better...?"

At the rear-view mirror, Elmo met Lambo's green eyes. The Lightning Guardian looked away as the car stopped on the road shoulder, hazard lights blinking as there was a switch in places and Lambo ended up sitting next to the guy who had built the current Lambo Bovino.

"Do you have to be civilians to go to Koshien?" Lambo asked him.

"Yes. And more," replied the brown-haired man with the mask of Vongola Decimo. "There is nothing stopping you from joining us."

"B- Besides," Ryohei commented with forced cheer, "Sawada Ietsuna would have started plenty of wars for everything you had! He's that type of ambitious guy. Lucky that your dad chose you instead, Sawada! Never trusted him. Hibari and Rokudo probably agree with me too."

Lambo bit his lip, worrying it for the nth time in the ten years his fate had been tied to the Vongola. "Lies are not the way to go about this," whispered the Lightning.

Eyes of gold met green. "They are the only way for me."

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