"How in the name of all that is reasonable can you manage to best me in battle and yet be incapable of comprehending the most basic of Mist techniques?" Daemon growled, throwing his hands in the air. Oregano had long since completed the lesson and left for work, but my teacher and I seemed to be locked in an impasse, "For the last time, observe closely, extend your Soft Flames into the mind of your victim and then make them stick. See?"

The restrained and gagged prisoner between us managed to let out a strangled whimper.

I tried.

I had finally managed to figure out Soft Flames after a week or so of instruction, but accessing mind and thought permanently eluded me. After all but oversaturating our poor subject with Soft Mist Flames, I tried to enter his mind. I couldn't.

It just didn't make sense. I was an illusionist. I cast illusions. Genjutsu was the art of understanding others through cold reading and the analysis of present information so as to manipulate their perceptions, using things as subtle as body language to such blunt tools as the Infinite Tsukuyomi, and no matter how great one's mastery of the art, one would never suddenly gain the ability to read minds, although good acting could bring one quite close. I was not a Yamanaka—not even from the same village, how in the name of the thrice-accursed Sandaime was I supposed to use their techniques?

I switched tacks. Evocative genjutsu had the victim shape the illusion they were trapped in, and a nudge there, a wordless suggestion here…I was rapped sharply on the head with a ruler Daemon conjured from nowhere, "Stop trying workarounds. Just. Make. Them. Stick." A dark miasma extended out behind them, as he loomed over me and became more and more demonic, "Make them stick and release us both from this torment. I have not the will to continue further, but by the Lord on high I shall see you accomplish the most basic of tasks today."

I inclined my head with a smile, "Of course, Salt."

612. Naturally, I failed.

My teacher snapped and the world splintered with him. I sighed, then shielded the poor prisoner from the madness about him with a thought and shaping of power. Well, at least fracturing realities and far too many mutated fleshy bits were things I knew how to deal with.

Oregano had been occupied this week with revamping the CEDEF's communications system to hell and back, and encrypting sir's personal phone to the point that even she couldn't trace his calls. Sir had then used his newly secured phone to spend hours upon hours talking to his wife, which was made easier after Lal pointed out that he could negotiate a contract just fine, and if they were attempting to reach an agreement regarding the Young Master's future, treating it as cordial negotiations might facilitate communications.

My apprentice-siblings were both called upon to lend their legal expertise to the endeavor, and for once I was thankful for my youth, since that meant I wasn't old enough to have been trained as a lawyer yet, although Oregano's smirk promised a dark and dismal future.

Other than that, our workload never seemed to shrink. Despite the fact that Families should have been consolidating their territories and recovering from their losses over the course of the gang war, somehow, we were constantly beleaguered by a string of mid to low-level incidents, from the occasional police raid to the actual assassination of a Cavallone underboss that used Poison Cooking, which we were forced to imply responsibility for lest the blame fall on Bianchi.

At our meetings (Salt now included) Sir scanned pages upon pages of reports, frowning grimly, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Me to." Lal agreed over his shoulder, "It's just not stopping. Daemon, did you forget to take out any implanted commands in the masses when you joined us?"

"I'm not that sloppy." Daemon shot back, offended, "I wanted to create crises that forged Vongola into a stronger whole, not cause constant stress that wears it down. But now that you mention it, the patterns of the incidents fit. They're mostly crimes of opportunity, but it looks like someone's instigating them—it might be a Mist with my skillset, unthinkable as that may be, but I'll have to check the bodies and maybe some of the people involved to give you a certain answer."

"Ninth's on edge." Turmeric added, "We covered for Basil's absence pretty well, but Croquant's been looking into the work we've been doing on the side. Ninth won't suspect the boss of disloyalty, but his Guardians don't have the same blind spot, and besides, Basil has accepted Massimo's assistance on the Archives matter, so he's expected to assume his Rain's duties."

"Not many, luckily." Oregano noted, "Even if Enrico's trusting Massimo with more and more responsibilities. Given my and Basil's connections to the Varia, I suspect that the most we'll have to worry about would be the Heir passing his orders to the Independent Assassination Squad through us, which is a rather sensible course of action upon further examination."

"Signore Enrico is no poor heir." I agreed.

The landline rang.

"Oregano."

My apprentice-sister's lips pressed into a thin line. "Understood. I'll check immediately."

She set down the receiver. "Luss says that the Varia's just received orders to assassinate Massimo, but they're suspicious about the authenticity. They want us to verify if the chain of command's been compromised."

"Fuck." Lal grimaced, "That can be Ninth compromised, Enrico compromised, the Varia compromised and trying to sabotage us, or even Massimo compromised and trying to frame someone—he's been acting cleverer recently, and while I'd like to think that that's a good thing, you'd never know."

"Or it's simply an attempt on Massimo's life." Turmeric rubbed his temples, "And we'll have to cover all possibilities unofficially, given that we didn't get an official request."

"Haven't yet." Oregano corrected, "Xanxus know he's on thin ice, but he's not going to let that stop him if push comes to shove."

"I have a bad feeling about this." Sir groaned.

We tensed as one, the words now possessing different connotations after prior revelations.

"Lucifer's sooty underpants." Daemon muttered, "What, Giottospawn?"

"Damage control first." Sir decided, "Basil, you have a pretext. Sorry to ask this of you, but stick to Massimo's side like glue, investigate him discreetly and keep him alive. Oregano, you and Turmeric get the Varia, I trust that you'll be able to extract you both if the situation turns sticky. Lal, we've got Timmy and 'rico."

"And what should this one's actions be in the case of Massimo's death being a legitimate order?" I asked.

"Stand aside. The assassin will give you a code word—cholorophyll." Oregano said.

"That's not a word."

"Exactly." She nodded, "That's the point. Make sure you listen for the extraneous 'o'."

"Understood."

"And me?" Daemon cut in, "What is my assignment, Young Lion?"

"That's obvious, isn't it, Salt?" Sir grinned, "Get me the analysis on Mist tampering—that'll take you about a day. Afterwards, you get to play bodyguard to Bianchi-chan and her cute little brother! Isn't that great?"

"Actually, yes." Daemon bowed, low and exaggerated, "By your will, CEDEF Nono."

He disappeared in a puff of sulfurous smoke.

Turmeric tutted disapprovingly.

"My lovely colleague." Mukuro waved a gracious hand at a cushioned chair, "Welcome, and do take a seat."

"This one sees that thou hast changed since this one saw thee last." I noted neutrally. "Are congratulations in order?"

"Of course, my dear Rain." The boy drawled, "Speaking of which, you are aware of how one greets an element of one's Sette, aren't you? For instance, you do know that standing as if rooted there while there's a perfectly good place at the table is just the height of rudeness."

I wasn't going to get anything out of him until I complied, so with a sigh, I sat.

Mukuro smirked, "That wasn't too hard, wasn't it? And, my friend, you don't just owe me congratulations, you owe me thanks."

I put two and two together, "Thou art why Massimo grew a brain?"

"Well," He looked down in mock bashfulness, "One could also say that I am his brain. Really, it's not as if you can notice the difference."

"This one appreciates it." I agreed, "Art thou aware that Signore Massimo's life has been called for?"

"Oh? Really?" Mukuro raised his eyebrows into his hair and pressed his hands to his cheeks, "I wonder why? Could it be that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and has refused to earn it? Or that he is entitled in the worst of ways and oh so innocent of the price of his desires? Or, most importantly, that he fattens himself on the tears of innocents and profits from the sweat of us workers' brows? Basilicum, you must be bewildered indeed if you think that cries for his blood do not resound in dank and dreary darkness where tortured souls weep."

He rose, and I kept silent while he gesticulated grandly, "Indeed, is that not the state of things? We each doomed by the station of our birth, our paths laid out for us in our ancestors' times, the fortunate growing ever more so, whilst we have no recourse but to be their slaves. You and I, who should be our own masters, must by the laws of this land be subordinate to another—unless!"

He whirled, eyes gleaming, "Unless those laws are themselves cast upon fire! Deluded and confused, we are pitted against each other, but that can be changed. You are like me, like us, like all the motherless and fatherless children who have been wronged by bloated kings and clans, who became quislings in our ignorance and wrong our fellows, trusted with power by our masters as hounds on a leash, but who can turn and take vengeance upon those who collared us—if only we so will! This is a foul world, a dark world, a dirty world built upon broken backs and suffering and grief—ours! Let those who lie upon golden thrones borne by us be toppled into the muck we have been cast into. Let them taste of our pain, do penance through enduring what they have made us undergo, atone for their sins. We shall give this sinful world a fiery baptism, avenge our blood, then erect a worthier kingdom upon the ashes of the old. Will you not join me in my crusade?"

"This one does not see," I said mildly, Flame coiled tight and warningly beneath my skin, "How a more righteous world may be founded upon principles of vengeance and the punishment of the innocent."

"Are they not guilty?" Mukuro asked, leaning so close that I could see the glint of madness in his mismatched eyes, "Guilty by blood, guilty by choice, guilty by the privilege they bear? Should we not seek redress and restitution? How can this not be evident to you unless you have resigned yourself to visiting upon your fellows that which you wish not for yourself?"

I was suddenly aware of just how much of a disadvantage he had put me at, seated at a table and therefore restrained in movement, "Wilt thou not speak more clearly?"

"G." He breathed, "Daemon Spade. Ricardo di Vongola. Lampo Bovino. Do you think I am blind? You are as I am one who remembers more than this life, and I walk past the portraits of the First Generation not infrequently. You find for us places as bondsmen of the Mafia, perpetuate Vongola's reign when you have not even the excuse of ignorance when it comes to Flames and Bonds yet when I offer you this chance to repent of your crimes, to join me willingly as my right hand as I bathe the Underworld in long-awaited blood, you do not entertain even the notion of shame for your crimes."

He was, amusingly enough, just a little bit too late with his rebukes, given that the Lady had thoroughly impressed upon me the extent of my wrongdoing already.

The boy sprung back, a silver trident appearing in his hands, "Very well!" He laughed, "If you would remain a willing collaborator of these criminals, see what you seek and have wrought, and perhaps be changed by it! I will yet be merciful enough to allow you a place by my side, for the sake of your skills and our long acquaintanceship!"

Windows, apparitions, scenes of other worlds sprung into being. Hayato's and Bianchi's right eyes turned red and pupiled by kanji, Bel's laughter turned too deep and menacing, and I leapt up as the scenery dissolved, for behind me was Massimo, eyes heterochromatic, menacing when his bulk had once been but comical.

The Mist was far too close to me as he forced my stillness with his trident to my neck. "We shall cast a great mountain burning with fire into the sea." He said with Massimo's mouth, "We shall take peace from the earth and make men slay one another until only the sinless remain or none do. You cannot resist me, but those you love may be spared should you bow."

"Truth creates falsehood. Falsehood shapes truth. What tyrant thought not that he was invincible? Thy quarrel is not with the world, Rokudo Mukuro—"

I forced myself free at the expense of a shallow cut at my throat, raising Metal Edge high, "—but with this one and the Underworld from which we both hail."

"One cannot exist without the complicity of the other." He raised an eyebrow, "And surely you are not yet so much a dog of theirs as to sacrifice your friends for them?"

Daemon was with Bianchi and Hayato. Bel was under the protection of Mammon. I could not believe that they could not take care of themselves under such conditions unless I believed that they were wholly incapable of standing under their own power.

"I trust them." I replied coolly.

"As your little toy soldiers." Mukuro mocked, baring his teeth, "Pieces all arranged for your purposes—but those purposes aren't yours anymore, presumptuous puppetmaster—but mine, and you shall be made an instrument of them!"

Too late I remembered that he held the reins of a Sky.

Massimo raised a hand, and I could see nothing past the endless tide of orange.

In which Mukuro is more dangerous a Mist then Daemon was. Also, inconveniently enough, Basil's terrible at the mind control aspect of Mist Flames. Also, the Poison Cooking incident was Mukuro testing to see just how far the CEDEF would go for what was, to all appearances, a non-affiliated Family. That CEDEF was willing to damage their relationship with the Cavallone for the sake of G's heirs basically solidified his certainty that the Xth Gen were seen as valuable pawns.

Fun fact: Mukuro called Basil a hypocrite already in chapter 21.

I'm really unsatisfied with Mukuro's 'join me' speech in this chapter, which was why it took so long. Any and all feedback would be very appreciated!