"The Dying Will Flame. How, thinkest thou, doth one invoke it?"

The boy frowned, "With will, I think? Going by the name."

His eyes kept dropping to the sheathed sword I had lain over my knees. For all the unpleasantness of our first meeting, few could resist the lure of being special, and so, when I offered him its hilt, he could not wholly hide the move to reach for it.

I inclined my head in permission, "Then do so. Draw thy sword."

His fingers closed around its grip eagerly, but there was no blade. Embarrassment turned quickly to rage, "What the fuck? This isn't funny—don't you have better things to do than jerk me about by the strings?"

While it was heartening to see him forgetting his fear so easily, that temper would not do. Killing Intent slammed him back down onto the ground. Mildly, I asked, "Dost thou think once more that thy actions are without consequence?"

He let out a string of curse words which I ignored to ask, "What dost thou feel?"

"Angry, duh." Wary eyes on me.

"Due to thy failure?"

"No, because you tricked me!"

We were going about in circles, but unless he could keep his emotions from affecting his judgement, he would remain a subpar agent and probably get killed in a year.

"Hardly." I said dryly, "This one has no reason to humiliate thee. What felt thou when there was no sword beyond the hilt?"

He glared and growled, "Anger."

"And not a hint of shock? That this one finds extraordinary."

Kensuke let out a hiss, "Fine! I was surprised!"

"The Daisho are the mark of the samurai." I inclined my head in acknowledgement. Somehow, despite my hopes otherwise, I was still resorting to invoking the tenets of the Land of Iron for Kensuke's education, "And the sword the soul of a warrior. How could thou remain calm when thy blade appeared lost?"

Kensuke was not a foolish boy, for all that he was brash and impulsive. Having noticed my choice of words, he turned the hilt over in his hands, being careful to keep the "sword" end pointing away from him. "Then where, exactly, did I fail?" He asked.

"This one shall speak, and thou shalt correct or confirm this one."

I waited for his nod.

"Thou began this endeavor full of anticipation, and yet wert met with great disappointment."

"Not how I would put it, but yeah."

"Thus being, thou wert dismayed, and feeling mortified, sought a more satisfying emotion."

He reacted to that, "What? No! I was embarrassed, and then angry! There was no seeking involved, it was all natural!"

"Why wrath then, Kensuke-san?" I asked, "Why not consternation or concern or confusion?"

He opened his mouth, but had not yet found words.

"Shall this one answer?" I took his lack of refusal for assent, "Anger turns uncertainty outwards. Where consternation or concern or confusion or indeed mortification makes one feel weak, anger gives strength. Feeling afraid, thou turned thy fear outwards. A wise choice at times, but not now. Knowest thou why?"

The trick was to keep him from becoming defensive, which involved never unilaterally putting him down. I had kept the balance, seeing as Kensuke simply shook his head, "No?"

"Thou allowed yet thy fear to rule thee." In the back of my mind, I felt a whisper of foreign thought—Mukuro's attention. Did he not have aught else better to do? Ignoring the Mist, I continued, "In fearing humiliation, thou feared being humiliated, and so saw intent to humiliate in every shadow. This one bore thee no ill will, and yet, in imagining ill will, thou gave rise to it. Such is hardly wise."

Stop talking at me through him, Basil. Mukuro drawled, Also, the poor boy's brain is melting. You should have just told him to be less touchy, it'll help him with his social life too.

"I think I understand." Kensuke said slowly, looking back at me, "Then what should I do?"

My, my, Basil, what a hypocrite you are when it comes to vengeance. Mukuro interjected in my mind, How many grudges are you holding anyway? At least I don't keep those from my past lives.

Unlike him, I refrained from indulging in my vindictiveness when it could affect my work, which, conversely, meant that I felt perfectly free to keep all the memories of petty insults from the samurai of Tetsu no Kuni fresh.

"Know thou the differences twixt the warriors of legend and they of history?" I said, "The former, who followed fully the tenets of their creed, and the latter, who… for whom certain values were easier to hold onto than others—for them 'twas easier to give their lives to redeem their honor than to cleave to righteousness and compassion, respect and discipline. Thou art now alike to such men, who confuse honor with vanity and were little more than petty thugs, clinging ungracefully to their little power, glorying in it over the weak—cowards all, with neither spine nor pride nor ambition to speak of, it is inevitable that they possess no will."

"But," I continued softly, refocusing my eyes from the past to the present, "Be as they who are paragons, emulate those worthy of being called heroes, and find thy" –I stopped myself before I could say nindo, substituting, "star to steer by."

Something akin to determination straightened Kensuke's spine. Mukuro laughed in my head and commented, You wanted to say cause, didn't you? But I agree, it's a bit too on the nose for you to remind him that Vongola owns his life—perfectly justified, in my opinion—and this is enough brainwashing for now, honestly, I still think it'd be easier to implant commands into his brain.

Regrettably, he was right. "Thou wert correct to say that the core of the Dying Will Flame is will, Kensuke-san, and will comes from confidence and certainty and want; know thyself, cultivate thy pride, and thou shalt possess it." Excellent, Kensuke was still paying attention to me, unlike Mukuro, who was sending me the impression of a dozing owl, "This one redirects thee now towards the first part of the name, "Dying". It is when faced with death that one's wants are most clear."

"Wait." Kensuke looked at me warily, "You aren't going to give me a near death experience, are you? Because this is a school night, and I really can't deal with all that at once."

"Fair." I smiled, "Tonight, we shall attempt meditation."

"O…kay. That's good." He glanced at the clock, "It's near my bedtime already, so it won't hurt if I doze off."

"A strategic choice." I agreed, "But hopefully, this one will not be overly insipid. Shall we?"

I took up a meditative pose and indicated that he was to mirror me, and as he settled into seiza, he automatically laid his sword hilt across his knees.

"The Buddhist concept of mujo, inconstancy." I began, "That one knows never what tomorrow brings. Should the next sunrise be harbinger of thy death, what wouldst thou not leave undone today?"

"Not my homework, for one." He muttered.

I laughed, "Understandable to the extreme. But the list of things to eliminate would be long, so this one asks thee again, what wouldst thou do before then?"

Kensuke considered my question. "Finish my manga." He decided, "Tell my parents I love them…maybe go out and try a beer with my friends—" even at my decidedly neutral expression, he flushed, "—it's not as if I need to worry about the legal drinking age when I'm going to die tomorrow!"

Given that my teacher had let me try most forms of alcohol before my tenth birthday, I really didn't see what the fuss was about, not that I was going to say that.

Mukuro, having access to my thoughts, took the opportunity to inform me that premature exposure to alcohol explained quite a lot about me. I shot him a mental glare. Also, seeing as one had to be twenty to buy alcohol here in Japan, I had some questions about his friends—no, Reborn's file had detailed a boy with a disreputable older brother, he was probably the source.

"Fair." I acknowledged Kensuke, "And now, should thou be allowed but one regret, what would it be?"

"My parents." He replied, but there was a tightness to his features, as if the answer was something closer to route than truth.

"Peace, Kensuke-san." I said gently, "Thy parents are with thee, and it is impossible to imagine their loss—there is no shame in thy incomprehension of such sundering. Perhaps, when truly faced with this choice, thou wouldst so choose, but in this moment, in this mere hypothetical, what speaks to thee the most?"

"The manga's in a daily life arc right now, so I don't really think that I can't bear leaving it as it is…" He prevaricated—oh, for divinities' sakes, of course the teenage boy was fascinated with the fruits of fermentation.

"Wouldst thou desire instead a beer?" I asked.

"Yeah." He said, refusing to look at me, ears red.

I could work with that. I'd like to see you try, Mukuro added, eating illusionary popcorn in the corner of my eye. He wasn't wholly substantial, which meant that he was probably adding a filter on my perceptions instead of actually projecting himself, something that he hadn't been able to do before. Was our connection developing further?

"Probably." Mukuro said, this time with a voice instead of the soundless thought we were using before, "Willing engagement, the fact that we are both Mists, your Ring—who knows?"

—I turned my attention back to Kensuke, adding a certain cadence to my words, "Then, Kensuke-san, courage in the face of death.

"Thou shalt die, and before death, thou wouldst taste of Yebisu's due.

"Thou art about to die, and under the shadow of death, what care hast thou for the laws of man?

"Thou might perish in the seeking, thou shalt meet thy end after, and if so, hast thou yet care for aught else?"

"No." Mochida Kensuke replied.

"Death is certain—wilt thou fear it?"

"No." Mochida Kensuke replied.

"Death seeks to claim thee before thy last will is done, wilt thou allow it?"

"No." Mochida Kensuke replied.

A last question, now that I saw the flicker of green-seamed red in his eyes. "Knowing thou shalt die, thou fear it not. Knowing thou shalt die, thou fearest nought. Knowing thou shalt die, thou deniest death yet till thy will is done. Thus, Mochida Kensuke, how wouldst thou pursue the taste of adulthood?"

"With everything." Mochida Kensuke breathed.

Crimson flame edged a blade wrapped in emerald fractals.

"Congratulations, Kensuke-san." I said, "Thou hast found thy will."

— "With underage drinking?" Mukuro asked, scandalized, "Then what was the point of wasting time blathering on about samurai?"

"The closeness of the Shinigami brings clarity." I said, as Kensuke held his sword with a trembling hand, running the other along its length as if reassuring himself that it was real. "When facing it, we feel also the fierceness of our passions, which are as oil cake and herring meal to the source of Flame."

"Wait. What do you mean by that?"

Mukuro snickered.

I sighed. "Emotion can make one more determined, but like fertilizer, mixed or measured incorrectly, it may also prove inimical to thy conviction."

Kensuke caught himself before he made a face, "Makes sense—speaking of which, I was afraid to ask, but as you said, YOLO, why do you talk like that?"

I raised an eyebrow, "This one was thus taught."

The bane of my existence was rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach while laughing.

"Really." He said skeptically, "Now I'm tempted to ask you to help with my Japanese homework."

"This one has not the skill." I demurred, "But should thou ask, this one would be willing to answer. It is a sign of maturity to know when one would benefit from assistance, and testament to thy courage that thou art willing to ask. So too is it only with the wisdom of adulthood that we truly understand what prices we pay in the pursuit of our goals, and with the strength of a true warrior that one is willing to pay them in spite of such comprehension. This one apologizes, that this one would not buy thee a beer, but thou art without a doubt growing into thy manhood. This one asks of thee this: think upon for what wouldst thou use thy strength—it is that which distinguishes the warrior from mere man-at-arms."

It was time.

I bowed shallowly, for politeness's sake, "This one bids thee farewell. Goodnight, Mochida Kensuke."

"Scandal, Basilicum." Mukuro told me once I was out the window, "I have not yet seen a more convoluted attempt at positive reinforcement in my long centuries upon this good green earth, granted, dangling samurai-hood in front of him as a reward for recognizing Sawada Tsunayoshi's authority is delightfully ironic—you do know that samurai means one who serves in close attendance to the nobility? Ergo, Kensuke-kun's reward for submission is to be a servant."

"This one would think so, seeing as it was this one who said it first to thee."

"Oh well," He gave me a faux-innocent look, "Now you know that I was paying attention. What now, oh wise CEDEF Commander-to-Be?"

"Two things, that shall both delight thee."

"Really?"

"Are thou not fond beyond measure of both confectionary and caprices?"

Mukuro spun to face me from where he had been playing cat's cradle with nightmares and tangling them into innocent civilians' dreams, a smirk spreading across his face, "Now you've got me interested."

"Thou shalt see." I promised.

I was a guest on Hibari lands, and should probably obtain the permission of my gracious hosts before doing anything drastic, so after returning to their estate, I placed a neatly written report on the minor Yakuza families in Kyouya's territory on his desk, followed by another one about a future incursion that the CEDEF had picked up on through the grapevine. A bribe, so that he would listen to me.

"This one has a request to make of thee." I said bluntly.

Silver eyes locked onto me like a hawk to a rabbit. I didn't flinch.

"What, Ayakashi?"

"This one's heart has been stolen, and in his recovery, there may be violent confrontation which would damage the surroundings. This one shall endeavor to keep such destruction to a minimum, but this one cannot promise that thy territory shall remain undamaged."

Kyouya-san nodded, "How do you expect the culling of the herbivores to go?"

Luckily, I had an idea of what he was actually asking, "Thou shalt have thy pick of opponents more interesting than those whom thou hast already taught terror."

That satisfied him. "Permitted outside of school grounds." His expression soured, "Vongola has yet to ask even that."

Wonderful. More work. Luckily, I could delegate this.

"The Vongola shall see to reparations."

"See that it does. What else?"

"This one may need to keep odd hours."

"As expected. Anything else?"

"No, Kyouya-dono."

"You will use your Mist Flames when we spar tomorrow."

I inclined my head, "Thus shall it be."

Then, seeing as he had nothing else to say, I left. Talking to Kyouya was always pleasantly efficient.

My Ring woke me at three-thirty in the morning. 160. I sent a poke down my mental link to Mukuro as I turned on the lights with Kyouya's permission, made some tea, washed my face, pulled out pen and paper, and started the tracing and recording programs on my phone before dialling Wamawaru's number. Mukuro flickered into existence just as my call went through.

"Salutations, Wamawaru-dono." I said pleasantly into the receiver, taking control of the conversation, "This one believes that thou art now decided as to the locale of our rendezvous?"

It was an unfortunate time indeed to wake up and make a call for me, but even more unfortunate for Wamawaru, who had intended to call just before his phone rang, intending, of course, to disorient me with the choice of time and induce a bit of sleep deprivation to boot. Now, however, as Mukuro was cackling about, he was the one worrying whether I possessed prescience or superior surveillance. A question made even more ambiguous by the rumors of Antichristhood my master had spread around the underworld.