Fumiko grinned cheerfully as she peered into her living room, nearly bouncing in joy. "Good afternoon, Mori-senpai!" she greeted as she bounded into the living room.

Mori turned to her and smiled back, though he was far more calm and demure when he returned her greeting. "Hi, hime."

"Oh, come on, Fumiko-chan is just fine!" she insisted. "At least outside of club, it's fine." She grinned like a madwoman. She'd been elated when Izzy eventually admitted to inviting Mori over Sunday afternoon to meet her parents. A small part of her feared her cousin would work herself up into a tizzy and ultimately not ask him. And evidently since he was here, that meant she was right all along despite the brunette's protests. She vibrated excitedly. If she really gets her way, Mori won't be calling her hime for much longer. They're going to be cousins-in-law, after all.

Mori watched as Fumiko vibrated in place. He wasn't exactly sure what she was thinking but she was a Morimoto so that most likely meant she was plotting. He was positive that whatever she was thinking, it had something to do with him and Izzy.

"My mom took Iz's parents and brothers to the company today, to show them around. They should be back soon," Fumiko said in an attempt to seem less obvious. "So, you know, that gives you and Iz some alone time before they come back." She leaned in close, nudging at his side with her elbow.

Mori sputtered before pointedly turning his face away from her. He was under the impression that Fumiko was angelic in nature but perhaps she was spending far too much time with people like Ozawa, Hikaru and Kaoru and even Mitsukuni.

Fumiko chuckled and tugged at the edge of his shirt. "Sorry, I didn't mean to tease," she smoothed out any ruffled feathers. "Erm, I just want to make sure of something. It's important, senpai." He turned back to her, eyeing her almost warily but she continued to smile. "You…you really do like Izabera, don't you?"

Mori was never known to beat around the bush. Sure, he didn't talk much but when he did, he was honest and earnest about it. Sometimes he was even a little too blunt. Then again, with friends like the Host Club, it wasn't such a bad thing. "I do." He answered, simple and straight to the point.

And she believed him. Her smile brightened and she clapped excitedly. "Great! It's not that I really doubt it but you know Iz. She's pretty new to this and she gets so anxious! She's been pacing all morning."

Mori smiled fondly, eyes glazing over as he no doubt recalled Izzy's past anxiousness. "Has she been rambling in Italian?"

"So she does that with you too? She starts talking so fast, I can barely understand her!"

"I can never understand her at all."

Fumiko guffawed. Her Italian wasn't the best but she was positive he couldn't understand a lick of it. She could pick up some words and piece them together, at least. She could easily imagine Mori's confusion when Izzy had one of her meltdowns, switching back to her mother tongue.

"Some advice, Senpai," she prompted after getting her giggles controlled. "Iz's family…well…they're chaotic. Her brothers can't speak Japanese that well but I'm sure they'll try to put on a big brother act. They're nice though. If you can get Aunt Masami on your side, you're a shoe-in. Her father.." she trailed off. Alphonse was a little bit of both. He was clearly chaotic but still overwhelmingly protective of Izzy.

"Izzy's never really dated before so her dad was really worried. She's pretty but she's weirdly oblivious." She had to hurry this along, Aimi could stall Izzy for only a few more moments before the brunette picked up on their scheming.

He's not that surprised, Izzy was painfully oblivious. It wasn't even an exaggeration since she'd gone on two dates thinking it was all platonic. But Mori wasn't really nervous because it's not like he had a hidden agenda. The way he saw it, he'd have to meet Masami and Alphonse eventually. "Thanks for the heads-up, Fumiko-chan," he said after a moment, smiling when she noticeably perked up.

She opened her mouth to reply but Izzy happened to round the corner into the living room, pausing at the sight of him. She squinted and her fists immediately went to her hips. "That explains it," she muttered sourly. She didn't understand why Aimi practically locked her in her closet until that very moment. "Quit harassing him, Fu!"

"I'm not!" Fumiko insisted with a grin. "We were just talking, that's all!"

"Sure, shoo, shoo!" Izzy waved her younger cousin away. Fumiko backed off, still grinning and quickly made herself scarce. "What'd she tell you?" The brunette asked immediately when she was sure she was gone.

Mori's smile was serene, revealing not a thing. "Nothing," he answered simply. She'd be embarrassed if he actually told her what they'd been talking about. In a bid to distract her, he reached forward and gently chuffed her under the chin. "Hi, Bera."

She lost her stern expression, a slight blush streaking across the bridge of her nose as she smiled up at him. "Hi, Mori. Thanks for coming over. My parents are still out, which is embarrassing to say the least," she laughed and rubbed the back of her neck. "But I told papa that I would fix lunch, do you want to help? Or just watch?"

He was never really interested in cooking. There was never any real need for him to learn his way around the kitchen so there was never a developed interest. It was clear, however, that Izzy loved it. Just like he liked sharing kendo with her, even if she didn't fully understand that sport, it was nice that she clearly wanted to share her hobby with him.

"Sit, sit." She directed him towards the island of the kitchen, flapping her hand insistently. There was a nervous, buzzing energy bouncing off of her, the sort of energy that often worked her up into a tizzy. She turned away, clearly intent on getting lunch started when Mori reached out before she moved away completely.

The brunette peeked over her shoulder, hazel eyes wide in curiosity. With ease that seemed to come natural to him, he tugged hard enough to spin her back around. With him sitting, she was only barely taller than him. His hands settled against her hips and he tugged her even closer, guiding her to stand in between his legs.

Mori remained silent but his eyes were warm, so warm that it gave her a moment's pause. Her whirling thoughts came to a slow halt and the nervous energy bouncing off of her gradually bled away into her skin.

Izzy smiled, not nervously or shyly or uncertainly. Genuinely. She smiled genuinely at him, the natural light from the large kitchen windows bouncing endearingly off of her face. It wasn't her biggest or brightest or even her prettiest smile. But it was genuine and real and so wholeheartedly lovely that it stole the breath right out of his chest.

"Potrei guardarti tutto il giorno," Izzy confessed, lips caressing the foreign language. Her eyes were bright and warm like sugar and honey.

"I can't understand you, Bera," Mori reminded her but he was smiling.

She stepped closer, brown locks spilling over her shoulder. "I know," she whispered against his lips. Satisfied, she untangled herself from him and spun herself away in order to get started on lunch.

He didn't help her in preparing lunch, he had no idea what to do with her gathered ingredients but he listened to her talk through it. Watched her navigate her way around the kitchen with ease, hips swaying to some invisible beat.

It was a lot, he realized, all of the cooking. There was so much that went into it, different ingredients and measurements, it was messy and it was so time-consuming. But Izzy, with her hair pulled back and apron tight around her waist, clearly enjoyed cooking. And he, in turn, discovered that he liked the simple act of watching her cook.

It was only lunch but the large island was covered in Italian cuisine. "Papa and my brothers can really eat," Izzy grinned impishly as they stood over the food. "You don't have to eat anything you don't want, you know. I know Italian is different from Japanese cuisine…" She began to tug and pull at her apron, eyeing him with a nervous glint in her eyes. "I can make something Japanese though, it wouldn't be too hard."

Mori reached for her, large hand engulfing both of her hands. "I like your cooking."

"You've only had it twice before."

"And it was good both times."

The nervous glint in her eyes was gone, instead replaced with content. "I'll make something for you next time then."

He didn't immediately reply but instead reached for her waist. He hooked his fingers into her apron and tugged her closer. "Next time?" he prompted with the corner of his mouth pulling upwards into a ghost of a smile.

"Yes," Izzy agreed slowly, coyly. "Next time," she said in a more firm voice. He curved down over her, his hand settling on the back of her neck. She kissed him sweetly, lips brushing shyly against his mouth. His fingers dug into her neck, directing her to settle deeply in the curve of his chest. She wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him to her.

Before they could fall too deeply into one another, Fumiko loudly cleared her throat from somewhere out in the hallway. "Oh, Aimi, looks like Mama's back with everyone!"

Izzy peeled herself away with a surprised laugh, creating enough space between them to convey some sort of innocence. "Um," she rolled her lips into her mouth. "Ready to meet Mama and Papa? I promise they're good people."

"It'll be fine, Bera. You worry far too much."

"You say that now but wait until you meet them," she sighed heavily. "They're…theatrical. Promise you'll still like me after meeting them."

"I promise, Bera. Stop worrying."

She could hear her family far before they made their appearance. "It smells like Italy!" Alphonse exclaimed boisterously when Aimi opened the front door.

"He exaggerates," Izzy sighed as she began to untie her apron.

"His Japanese is good," Mori commented, somewhat surprised.

"Mama refused to learn Italian when they first met, she made him learn Japanese to prove he was serious about her," Izzy explained with a boyish snort. "My brothers can speak broken Japanese, I'll translate them. Well, maybe. They're idiots."

"Like Tamaki and the twins?"

Izzy paused in folding her apron, blinking her pretty eyes. "Huh. I guess they are kind of similar."

"Isabella!"

She smiled at the sound of her name in Italian. She had gotten used to answering to Izabera instead over the last few months but the sound of her name was nice to hear. "We're in the kitchen!"

Masami came into the kitchen at that moment. She was dressed in a navy-blue kimono, her thick hair pulled back into a complicated style weighed down with charms. "There you are! Oh! You must be Takashi!"

Masami and Chihiro were practically twin sisters. There were only subtle differences in their appearance to differentiate the two women. Chihiro was only a little taller and more lithe with a spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose and down towards her jaw and her eyes were noticeably a darker green. Masami, on the other hand, was actually shorter than her younger sister and wasn't as lithe. Freckles were absent from her pretty face, instead possessing a beauty mark. And finally, her eyes were much lighter, almost akin to glittering jade.

"I am," Mori stepped from around Izzy. "It's nice to meet you, Giovanni-san."

Masami smiled and it reminded him of Izzy's smile. She eyed her daughter for a quick second. "He's freakishly handsome," she spoke in Italian, chuckling when Izzy flushed terribly. She clapped her hands together. "No need to be so formal, Takashi. Masami is just fine! Chichi has told me so much about you," she danced closer, hands at her chest.

"Oh, great," Izzy rolled her eyes. "Whatever she told you, she got from Fumiko."

"And they were all good things," Masami continued in that pleasant manner of hers. "Oh, Alphonse, would you come in here?" She turned briefly and called out to her husband, still smiling cheerfully.

As if conjured up by her voice, Alphonse appeared immediately. He was nearly as tall as Mori, with hazel eyes and thick toffee hair that clearly carried over to his daughter. Izzy was the perfect blend of her parents, her Eurasian looks now more obvious that she was in the same room as her parents.

Izzy eyed her father carefully before shuffling forward, hand reaching for Mori. Her fingers curled around his wrist, almost as if to ground herself. "Papa," she said with squared shoulders. Masami smiled in amusement. "This is Morinozuka Takashi." She squeezed Mori's wrist and narrowed her eyes at Alphonse. "Comportati."

Alphonse shot her a petulant look, he was the parent here. If anyone needed to behave, it was Izzy. She was the one running around, making these life changing choices without telling him or Masami. And yes, he eventually agreed to let her stay but that didn't mean he was happy about it.

He could still see the chubby round-faced girl she used to be, with her curly pigtails and gap-toothed smile. He missed that little girl and wondered how eighteen years crept by without him really noticing. It kind of hurt, he realized, to see her like this. So very grown up and beautiful.

Alphonse sighed. Serafina always said he'd get his karma one day. Of course she was right, he never denied it. Hell if he thought it'd be something like this, eighteen years later and faced with the same problem Masami's parents once faced. Having to trust and let go of their teenage daughter.

He thought they were just old and selfish and didn't want to see their daughter happy. Hell, he even assumed they opposed the relationship because he was European and not Asian. And maybe it did have something to do with that but he blindly ignored the fact that they were just parents and they were worried. That's what it came down to.

Alphonse sighed. "Certo, il mio mondo." He smiled at her and tucked those bitter feelings away. He cleared his throat and finally looked at Mori, hazel eyes brimming in curiosity. "I've heard a lot about you, Takashi."

"Masami-san said the same thing," Mori answered carefully. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

At least he's polite. "They were good things, Takashi. Chichi seems to like you enough and evidently my daughter likes you."

Izzy's expression was scathing but Masami quickly intervened with a grin. "I like him too!"

"You just met him, Mimi."

"I married you after just meeting you."

Masami continued to grin even when Izzy sighed heavily. With no preamble, she reached for Mori's hand, tugging him away from Izzy. "Come on, Takashi. Tell me something embarrassing about my daughter. Are you hungry?" She led him out into the dining room where Aimi and the others had taken the cooked meal.

Izzy and Alphonse stared after them. "Papa," she gave up on the idea of getting Mori away from Masami. "You promise you'll be nice, won't you?"

"I was being nice, Bell."

"You were glaring holes into his face!"

"Was not."

"Was too!"

The two came to standstill, not glaring at each other but staring deeply. "Al! Izabera, come on or we'll start without you!" Chihiro called from the dining room, interrupting the stare down between father and daughter.

Izzy huffed but turned first and quickly headed into the dining room with Alphonse on her heels. To her dismay, her brothers and Fumiko had intercepted Mori and Masami. They were all speaking in a horrific jumble of Italian, Japanese and English that sounded downright awful to her.

"Basta, basta!" She shooed her brothers away, smacking Vicente for good measure. "Stop harassing him!"

Masami leaned into Mori, arm secured around his arm. "She's telling them to stop harassing you," she twittered with a grin. "Isn't that cute?"

"What's the matter, Isa? Afraid we'll run your pretty boyfriend off?" Alonzo teased impishly.

"So you do think he's pretty."

"That's not what I meant and you know it, you brat."

"They're calling you pretty," Masami whispered loudly.

"You are very pretty," Fumiko agreed while nodding.

"Boys," Alphonse sighed as he moved past his bickering children. "Don't tease your sister over her pretty boyfriend. Everyone sit down."

"Al says you're pretty too," Masami chuckled one last time before Izzy waved her away. She let her mother off the hook, opting to turn to Mori with an apologetic raise of her eyebrows. Barely five minutes in and they were already embarrassing her.

While he wasn't used to being called pretty, Mori was used to the sort of chaotic energy born from the Giovannis and Morimotos. It was eerily similar to the sort of energy that came from his friends. No wonder Izzy seamlessly fit in with them.

Lunch was a raucous affair, even the ever calm Chihiro was a little thrown off by it. Mori's even a little more thrown off when Alphonse offered him a glass of red wine. "Papa, no. That's not normal here," Izzy waved him away. "We don't drink wine in the middle of the day here." She laughed as he blinked in confusion.

"No?" He glanced at Masami and Chihiro. They both shook their heads no. "Then what do you drink?"

"Water, juices or tea."

Alphonse pulled back, offended. "Oh, Bella." It wasn't a bad thing in Italy to drink wine at any moment of the day but clearly things were different in Japan.

Franky cleared his throat before his father could start ranting about wine. He loved wine, they got it. "So, Takashi, how did you—" he paused, rolling the words around in his head and trying his best to translate them. "How did you meet our sister?" His Japanese wasn't complete crap but it was rough.

Mori squinted at him for a lone second before it clicked. "He meant to say sister," Izzy chuckled quietly. "How did you meet me?"

"Oh." Mori blinked his silver eyes. "I knocked her over."

"You did what?"

"Mori, for Heaven's sake…"

"I did, Bera."

Izzy grimaced but in a lighthearted sort of way. "No, I was walking too fast and I turned too sharply. I ran into him and fell over. He's built like a tank." To solidify her claim, she reached up and teasingly squeezed his bicep. "I was okay. He helped me up and everything."

"Wow, Isy, what a dorky thing to do," Vicente snorted but quickly apologized to Masami for his bad table manners.

"And you two are in a club together, right?" Alonzo asked as Izzy shot Vicente a look. For a moment, Izzy's stern expression faltered. She wasn't sure how to explain to her family that she was in a host club. Masami would understand it and probably find it hilarious but she doubted Alphonse and her brothers would share those sentiments.

"Right. It's a club that…mainly helps others," Mori replied, his poker face etched neatly. Izzy's shoulders nearly slumped in relief.

"Oh, like studying and homework?"

"Sure."

"Huh." The brothers seem somewhat satisfied and they begin asking Mori about other things. His hobbies and skills and his status as a kendo champion. Like Izzy, they were mostly unfamiliar with the sport but Mori patiently explained with the help of Masami and Chihiro. They're impressed, even more so when he mentioned the other sports.

Alphonse was impressed with his athleticism but he opted to quietly watch Mori interact with his sons. Every so often, his daughter would smile and he was positive the two teenagers were nudging at each other under the table. Playing footsies and what not.

There's a part of him that wanted to put a stop to that. But it's just innocent flirting, a tiny voice reminds him. Far more innocent than the type of flirting he and Masami were doing when they first met. Takashi had an odd way of speaking. He was blunt and to the point but it wasn't necessarily rude. It's just very..honest. He spoke honestly and Alphonse could respect that. He did.

Eventually they finished lunch and the plates were cleared away and they all moved into the living room. The conversation continued to flow, her brothers talking enough to make up for Mori's usual silent disposition.

"Takashi?" Alphonse beckoned him over. There was music playing and Alonzo and Izzy were demonstrating their dancing skills to Chihiro, Fumiko and Mori. They always were the better dancers among a family of dancers. He was positive that Mori's eyes were tracking the sway of Izzy's hips but Al decided to let it slide.

"My daughter really likes you," he said as Mori came to stand next to him. "It's strange, honestly. Her grandparents once said we'd have to arrange a marriage for her, the old-fashioned way." He never told Izzy that, convinced that arranged marriages were idiotic. She wasn't really wrong but if pressured enough, he was sure that Izzy would give in.

Mori eyed him, wondering if this was a test or not. "I don't think Bera would like an arranged marriage." He thought of Hisa's predicament with Yuuya and how Izzy always twisted her face up at the thought of it.

Alphonse stared at him. "No, I suppose she wouldn't. I think she would've allowed it, if she thought it was the right thing to do."

"But she wouldn't be happy. Doesn't that matter too?"

Maybe that's what Alphonse wanted Mori to say because he smiled and nodded. He looked thoughtful and absently rotated his wrist, swirling his red wine in a casual way. It was deliberate and it made Mori think of Kyoya. "What do you like about my daughter?" He asked rather bluntly. "I love her but believe me when I say I was very surprised by the turn of events."

"I like her laughter," Mori answered almost immediately. He could still remember the first time she genuinely laughed around them, after brutally rejecting Tamaki's request to play the piano. It's what really drew him into her, the sound of her giggles and guffaws muffled uselessly against her hand. Her laughter, graceful but entirely too loud, was like a shower of sunshine. It shattered her icy disposition, revealing that it was just a simple façade. And he liked it, simple as that.

Alphonse squinted at him, impressed by the sincerity of the answer but unwilling to admit it just yet. "It has nothing to do with her looks?" He pressed purposely. Izzy even asked the same question, though worded it differently.

Izabera was a beautiful girl, there was no doubt about that. Still, her beauty had nothing to do with her actual personality. It didn't make her worthy of being liked. Which, if he thought about it, was ironic given the type of club they were in. But that's besides the point. He could acknowledge that she was attractive but the physical aspect wasn't what drew him in.

But still, answering Alphonse's question could be tricky. If he said that it had nothing to do with her looks, it might sound insulting. If it did have something to do with her looks, it sounded shallow. Besides, that was probably what Alphonse wanted anyway, to trip him up and trap him.

He didn't blame Alphonse for trying to catch him off guard. Despite her mature and sometimes stoic personality, Isabella Giovanni was an oblivious girl and her family knew it. It was obvious that she grew up well-protected and maybe even a little sheltered.

To the Host Club, she was the big sister and she played that role surprisingly well. To the Giovanni family, she was the baby and they were going to remind her of it. A fact that her brothers were all too happy to remind of her.

"….and Mori-senpai always dances with Iz at all the parties. They're great dance partners…"

"Shut up, Fu."

"Don't talk to your cousin like that."

Alphonse's lips nearly twitched into a smile but kept his gaze on Mori, always gauging for something. He didn't want to like Mori, didn't want to like any young man his daughter was interested in. But he did like him, that line about liking his daughter's laugh was a good one. And it was genuine. Honestly, Mori reminded him much of Masami. Calm and collected surrounded by more boisterous people but seemingly always one step ahead.

"Nothing to do with her looks," Mori finally confirmed.

Alphonse raised his eyebrows. "So you don't think my daughter is pretty?"

Ha, gotcha.

"No, I do. She's very pretty."

Well.

The older man tilted his head to the side in question, waiting for Mori's explanation. "I didn't start to like Izabera because I thought she was pretty. I started liking her because of her in its entirety."

Alphonse stared at Mori for a long moment, his hazel eyes slowly squinting. Izzy had that same look, usually when Tamaki and the others were up to something that she was trying to figure out. This was crucial, Mori realized, and so he stoically held the stare.

"Merda," Alphonse sighed and Mori was sure that he heard Izzy utter that before, in one of her enraged rants. "For someone who's as quiet as you are, you sure know what to say, Takashi."

He's been told that before.

Alphonse sighed, his big shoulders slumping. "I'm not too keen on the idea of Isa staying here longer than planned," Alphonse swirled his wine. "But she's a lot smarter than I was and not as rebellious as her mother."

Off topic but Mori wondered just how many nicknames were derived from Isabella.

"However, she can be rather…oblivious, no matter what she says. If you insist on dating her then I insist that you keep a watchful eye on her." It wasn't really a suggestion, that much was clear.

But it was unnecessary because even if there weren't any romantic feelings involved, Mori would look out for Izzy. He did his best to look out for all of his friends, speaking and interfering when absolutely necessary. The type of trouble his friends stirred up usually wasn't enough to get him involved enough but Izzy had a special knack about herself.

"I understand," Mori easily agreed.

And finally, Alphonse smiled at him.

"For the love of God, go away!"

Mori chuckled as Izzy flapped her hands at her brothers and Fumiko. The Giovanni kids melted into a rapid fire of shouting, all in their mother tongue as she backed Mori to the front door. Fumiko wasn't shouting, her Italian not as quick but she seemed to get the gist.

From the kitchen, Alphonse had quite enough of his childrens' squabbling. "Basta!"

All at once, the shouting came to an abrupt halt. "Scusa, papà." They said in unison, shoulders slumping apologetically. Before any of her brothers could say anything, she quickly herded Mori out of the front door. She slammed the door shut and held it for good measure for several moments. Hopefully Fumiko would do her a favor and distract those three idiots.

When nothing happened, she let out a big sigh and rested her forehead against the door. She loved her family and missed them but God—they were so much. No wonder she could easily deal with the Host Club's high energy. Sure, every now and then they caught her off guard but for the most part, she was aces with them.

"I'm sorry about them," she said and finally picked her head up. "I hope you still like me but I understand if you don't." She was only partially joking.

Mori was watching her when she turned to face him, like he always was. "I think they like me."

That got her to laugh, the type of laugh that warmed the night's air and thickened his blood into sweet honey. It clogged his veins, spreading warmth throughout his body.

Izzy sidled up next to him, smiling. "Of course they like you, Mori. Everyone likes you, what's not to like?" Her nails skimmed the inside of his wrist, a slight indication that she wanted to hold his hand. "They do like you, if you're wondering. They wouldn't have tried so hard to speak Japanese, my brothers, at least."

Her brothers did try their best, he could admit. They weren't exactly fluent in the language, tripping over some of the words but they did try. Despite the language barrier, the three older men got along well with Mori.

Masami definitely liked Mori. It was almost as if she'd known him the entire time and not for one day. She seemed to accept the romantic relationship much easier than the others and took a shine to him. Mori liked her a lot too, she had the same humor as Chihiro and Fumiko, just far more toned down.

"I like them too," Mori smiled down at her.

"I'm glad," she replied around a deep sigh. "Though I do wish they weren't so—" she lifted her hands up, stealing away her warmth, and waved them over her head. "—Them sometimes."

"If they weren't so them, they wouldn't be your family."

She dropped her hands and he immediately reached for her, larger hand easily engulfing her smaller hand. Her gaze fell to their joined hands and she smiled, warm and soothing. "You still like me, right?" She pressed unnecessarily.

"Of course I do."

With her other hand, she dramatically wiped it across her forehead. "Phew!" she exaggerated. "You had me sweating there." She was grinning but her jaw twitched twice. "Anyway, what was Papa saying to you? You know, when I was forced into dancing?" She swayed a little bit, rocking her hips to some unknown beat.

"You like dancing," Mori pointed out. He knew better than to tell her what was said between him and Alphonse. She'd be indignant, insulted that her father and Mori thought she needed someone to look out for her. She would insist that she was a big girl and didn't need to be looked after.

Says the girl who agreed to two dates, unaware that they were dates in the first place.

Moving on…

"He just wanted to make sure our relationship isn't based solely on superficial reasons." Which was the truth and Mori didn't blame Alphonse for it. There was a darkness to beauty, a darkness that could swallow Izzy up. Alphonse wanted to shield her from that and he did, for her entire life, he did. But now, with her refusal to return to Italy, he had to trust Mori. And Izzy. He had to trust his daughter.

"Oh." Izzy pursed her lips, probably overthinking. "I guess he believed whatever you said, since he didn't throw a fit and demand I end the relationship."

"That's because I told him the truth."

"The truth being…?"

"Ask your father."

She made a face but he only pulled her into his side, lifting his arm to drape over her shoulders. She went willingly, eagerly even. Like she'd been waiting all afternoon and all evening to finally, finally, touch him. She exhaled soundly and laughed when Mori leaned down to squish their faces together.

It was something that Honey was more known to do, wrapping himself around any one of them to rub his face against theirs. It always, always made her laugh and maybe that's what Mori was going for.

She leaned even further into him, as if she was trying to climb inside of him to live in his ribcage. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his torso, lacing her fingers together to rest against his side. Her face pinched, drawing together in adoration as Mori continued to rub his cheek against hers.

Her laughter lit up the night, which was exactly what Mori wanted. So engrossed in one another, they failed to notice the glittering green eyes quietly watching from one of the windows.

It was late when Chihiro snuck down into the kitchen. She wasn't one for late night snacks but it wasn't often that Izzy cooked food from her homeland. She'd had Italian cuisine before in her life but there was just something different about her niece's cooking that was irresistible.

She shuffled into the kitchen but it was unnecessary. With a house as big as hers, it was unlikely she would wake anyone. Which, of course, was perfect because she didn't want anyone to think of her as being greedy.

"What'cha doing?"

Chihiro jumped out of her skin, barely muffling her scream. She whipped around, using the refrigerator's light to see Masami sitting at the island. In the dark. "Masami!" She stomped her food indignantly, embarrassed. "What the hell are you doing, sitting in the dark? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Masami only chuckled and folded her hands nearly on top of the island top. "You're too young to suffer from a heart attack."

"Oh, shut up," Chihiro huffed. "Honestly…." She turned away, back to the fridge as Masami hopped off the barstool. She flicked on the kitchen lights, smiling in amusement as Chihiro reemerged with the leftovers from that day. "The mushroom ravioli was really good…"

Masami moved around her to pick up one of the bottles of wine that the Giovannis brought from Italy. She raised her eyebrows and teasingly shook the bottle. Chihiro sighed but nodded and with an excited grin, Masami returned to the island with the wine and two glasses. Chihiro busily warmed her leftovers up while Masami carefully poured the wine.

"Izzy's a fantastic cook, it's impressive," Chihiro said after a couple of bites.

"No thanks to me," Masami scoffed, swirling the red wine expertly. "All thanks to my mother-in-law, Serafina."

"Oh?"

"You know I can't cook. Al's family tore me apart the minute they found out I couldn't cook."

Chihiro chuckled. "Ah, what a shock that must have been. Ms. Perfect isn't so perfect." She paused and pursed her lips, eyes closed tightly. "I—I'm sorry, Mami. That was rude, I didn't mean it."

But Masami only eyed her cooly, delicately sipping her wine. "I think you did mean it," she said with no ill-will. She stared down into her wine, studying the red liquid as it gently sloshed against the walls of her glass. "It's okay, Chi. You feel the way you feel and I won't be upset about it…"

She wouldn't be surprised if her sister had some pent up aggression against her. Chihiro was always the runner up against her, ever since they were kids. She was the prettier and smarter sister, not to mention cunning and quick-witted. That wasn't to say that Chihiro wasn't any of those things, Masami was just better.

Masami lightly cleared her throat. "I owe you an apology, Chihiro."

"No, you don't—"

Masami shook her head. "I do, I really do. I know Hiroki and Shinobu always made you feel inadequate compared to me and I…I fed into that notion. I liked being praised even though it meant that they cut you down to do it. I—I'm so sorry for that."

She had a lot of time to think about how she treated her sister, or how she mistreated her. She could blame her parents for influencing her to think that way, to think so little of both of her siblings. She still thought little of Takuma but that wasn't the point right now. The point was that she, unlike her parents, could admit to her wrongs, even if it took her decades to do so.

"And I'm sorry for making you take in my daughter like this. I barely even gave you a choice and now she's decided that she's going to stay longer…" Masami sighed and shook her head. It seemed that her daughter inherited her pushiness and selfishness.

She was surprised by Chihiro's calm disposition. She remembered a loud-mouthed party girl, who often threw fits and purposely caused trouble to get attention from her parents. Whoever this woman was, she was not the same girl Masami left behind almost twenty years ago.

"Izabera has a home here, I wasn't upset when she first came and I'm not upset now that she wants to stay here. She's as Japanese as she is Italian. I'm glad she has somewhere safe to be when she's here."

She hadn't acknowledged anything her older sister said, the meat of her apology. That was okay, Masami decided. Chihiro didn't have to forgive her and she wasn't going to force her. But she still felt some of the weight that clung to her shoulders ease, if only a bit. It still meant something.

"I never thought we'd end up like this, when we were kids and teenagers. When you first left, I thought you'd come back…" Chihiro began in a quiet voice. "And then you didn't and suddenly I had all your expectations and none of your skills. It was…it was hard…" she trailed off and began blinking rapidly.

Masami was quiet and waited for her sister to gather her thoughts. "I had all these responsibilities and expectations and…the pressure. So much pressure. I had it all and…I needed you. I needed you to be there for me and you weren't. You haven't and…it wasn't fair, Masami, it wasn't fair!" Tears were freely flowing. She hadn't cried like this in such a long time. "You were never there."

Masami's lips thinned and her grip tightened on the stem of her wine glass. She didn't say anything, waiting for her sister to finish her thoughts. She deserved that, she deserved to rip into Masami just like their parents ripped into her.

"They forced me to have Fumiko."

Masami stilled, shoulders stiffening at the sudden revelation. "I hid the fact that I was dating Shun but they knew. I couldn't hide anything from them, really. The issue was that they didn't even care that I was dating him in the first place. When you had Izabera…they didn't want some halfbreed bastard to be able to have a chance of owning Morimotos—" She grimaced, she felt horrible for repeating that insult aimed at Izzy.

"My child isn't even a bastard…" Masami muttered.

"I know, I'm just repeating their words. Anyway, they said the only way I could be with Shun was if I married him and had a baby within the year of Izzy's birth…"

Disgust plagued Masami but she wasn't surprised, something like that was exactly up her parents' alley.

"I love them but to be married so young and to be a mother…." Chihiro trailed off, eyes glassy and fresh tears running down her face. "I wasn't ready but they wouldn't let me be with him if I refused. Just another ploy to mold me into Morimoto Masami."

"I'm not Morimoto. I'm a Giovanni."

Chihiro's eyes hardened and snapped over to her sister, alive with fire. "Only in name," she hissed, her voice hard. "You tried to run from it but you can't, Masami, you can't. It's in your blood."

Selfish. Cunning. Calculating. Self-serving. Vicious. Shrewd.

A Morimoto.

"It's in your daughter's blood too." Chihiro finally picked up her glass of wine, her words hanging in the air. She wasn't as delicate when she drank her wine, not like her sister had been. She didn't care, too wired to delicately sip it.

Masami's eyes were narrowed but she directed her stare into her wine glass. She'd been afraid of that, afraid that the Morimoto traits would somehow infect her daughter. She ignored it when those traits slowly emerged, brushing it off as teenage moodiness.

"How do they treat Fumi?"

Chihiro's eyes soften, if only a little. "Hiroki loves her and Shinobu is…tolerant."

"Ah. A mercy."

Chihiro laughed and shook her head. "I love my daughter, I wasn't ready to be a mother but I love her."

"I understand. I wasn't ready either but I love mine, all the same. They shouldn't have done that."

"They shouldn't have done a lot of things but there's no sense of wallowing over it now. Hiroki's better, he's changed a lot."

"Well, I suppose your impending death will do that."

Chihiro clucked her tongue. "Masami, for Heaven's sake, the man's dying."

"Yes, well…" Once more she hopped off of the barstool, leaving the island and her sister momentarily. She came back quickly, dabbing her sister's face with paper towels. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sorry I left you here, with them, with that ultimatum. I'm sorry for choosing Alphonse over you. I'm sorry for choosing myself."

She cleaned her sister's face of tears, wiping away the grief that threatened to age the younger woman. "The world needs you to be Morimoto Chihiro, not Morimoto Masami. That woman is dead."

And she'd stay dead.

Chihiro leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Masami's waist. She wasn't as thin as she used to be, probably from childbirth and Italian cuisine. But she was warm and she smelled the same. Like rain and jasmine.

"Takashi seems like a nice young boy," Masami said after a long bout of silence.

Chihiro tightened her grip around her sister's waist, not ready to let go just yet. "Oh, he's a sweetheart. He really looks after her. And the rest of their friends, oh, you'd just love them. Enthusiastic boys, they are."

"Boys? All of them?" Masami raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, there's Yuna, Ayame and Hisa. They're nice girls but I'd say they're more of Fumi's friends." Chihiro cleared her throat and sniffled, a little embarrassed that she cried in the first place. She was in her late thirties and crying about some adolescent angst.

Masami squeezed her though, not nearly as embarrassed and even grateful. Chihiro had every right to speak her piece.

"Well, I'm glad. She's always been somewhat of a loner. She had friends in Italy but they were just school friends, she never invited anyone over or met up with them unless I pushed her into doing it."

Her daughter was funny like that, not exactly anti-social but politely friendly. She did what Alphonse and Masami wanted, even if it annoyed her but never really cared enough to forge genuine bonds with the kids back in Italy. She preferred her brothers and if they weren't around, preferred her own company.

Chihiro hummed and finally let go of Masami to return back to her ravioli. She picked at it but began to eat slowly, chewing thoughtfully. "She's always out doing something with them or attending some party with them. When she hurt her ankle—" she shot Masami a careful look. "They visited frequently, her friends and Fumi's friends. She's popular."

She was proud to hear that, glad even. Reassured, maybe, was the better word. She worried for her daughter but now she felt a little better. Especially since her stay would be extended.

"You're sure you aren't upset with her staying?" Masami asked instead, her voice careful as she returned to her wine. She refilled Chihiro's glass without prompt.

Chihiro, grateful, received the refilled wine and sipped more delicately this time around. "Sure I'm sure. I love her, you know. And Fumi, my goodness. She loves her cousin to death. It's almost like the two of us, I think." Except for all those feelings of inadequacy but Masami decided not to point that out.

"That's wonderful, I'm so glad she has that with Fumiko." She hadn't even had a close relationship with her cousins back home. It probably had something to do with her interracial background, something her cousins couldn't really understand. Why Fumiko had some understanding was beyond her. Maybe the fact that she was only half Japanese just didn't bother her.

Maybe Fumiko was just better than a lot of people, more understanding and empathetic. Which, she thought, they could all use some of that.

Unbeknownst to the sisters, Fumiko quietly snuck into Izzy's bedroom. The brunette was still awake despite the late hour and she was a little surprised to see Fumiko awake. "Oh, good, you're awake," Fumiko smiled. Izzy was sitting up in bed, reading something. "You're such a dork, who stays up late to read?"

"Get out." Izzy's tone was blank and she barely even looked up.

But she wasn't serious so Fumiko climbed into her bed, smiling even wider when Izzy drew back her blankets. She settled in next to her, sucking up all her warmth and sighed gratefully. "Is that something for school?"

"Nope," Izzy's lips popped. "Just something to read."

"You're an old woman, you know that?" Fumiko chuckled and plucked the book from the brunette's hands. "'Gone with the Wind'? For Heaven's sake, can't you just watch the movie?"

Izzy shrugged. "Sure but I like reading. Give it back." She snatched the book away but didn't go back to reading. "Why are you still up? You're a nightmare to wake up in the mornings." She laid the book down in her lap, hands tapping the cover.

"I am not," Fumiko huffed but it was true. It took twice as long for Fumiko to wake up in the mornings compared to Izzy and Chihiro. "I couldn't sleep, I guess. Just wanted to see if you couldn't either." She leaned into Izzy, pressing her face into her shoulder. "How do you think Aunt Sami's meeting will go with Hiroki and Shinobu?"

That caught the brunette off guard. She pursed her lips and blinked her pretty eyes. "I don't really know. She never talked about them."

"Mama never wanted to talk about when Aunt Sami left, what was said during the argument before she left."

"Neither did mine. I guess it was that bad."

Fumiko frowned. "I mean, I know Shinobu can be vicious but Aunt Sami and Hiroki…? It doesn't seem like them to have a bad argument, or say horrible things."

Izzy's mouth twisted in thought. "Well, I think back then, they were different people. Less kind to each other, in general. Mama says she's done a lot of growing up since leaving. Hiroki and Shinobu might not even recognize her."

"Or they'll just bring out the worst in her."

"Good point."

They shared a laugh together even though, realistically, it wasn't something to laugh about. She hoped her grandparents wouldn't do that to her mother, to their daughter. Hiroki wouldn't, she didn't think he would. Shinobu, well, she couldn't say for sure.

It was obvious Hiroki regretted how his relationship deteriorated with Masami and all he wanted was to apologize before he died. They knew it was coming, his health worsening with each day. Izzy and Fumiko visited as often as possible. They tried to take him out as much as possible, taking turns pushing him along in his wheelchair. He was grateful for it. Grateful to spend time with Izzy and Fumiko. Sometimes though, on his bad days, he called them Masami and Chihiro.

"Uncle Al seems to like Mori-senpai," Fumiko said in a bid to change the topic. There was no use speculating. "I'm not the least bit shocked, you were worrying for nothing."

"Just wait until Uncle Shun is meeting the first boy that you like."

"Oh, my Papa is easygoing."

Izzy snorted, amused. "Every girl's papa is easygoing until a boy comes around."

Fumiko smiled tightly and sat up, studying her fingernails. "Papa has nothing to worry about. Besides, he's barely even home enough." She kept her eyes on her nails, avoiding Izzy's gaze when she inevitably turned to look at her.

Izzy squinted at her, her brow crinkling gently. "Fumi…" she tutted in a soft tone. "You know that's not true." She sounded like her mother, all maternal and worried and for a moment, Fumiko hated her. Well, that wasn't true, couldn't be true. She loved Izzy more than anything.

She was angry at her father, angry at the strong relationship between Alphonse and his only daughter. The fact that he'd hop on a plane almost on a whim to see her, to love her enough to trust her to stay in Japan without him, was something almost odd to her. She wondered what Shun would say if the tables were turned, if it were her that wanted to stay in a different country.

What would Shun and Chihiro say if she went to Italy to stay with Izzy and inevitably fell for some nice Italian boy? If she decided to make her own choices? Would they trust her enough? Even if they worried, would they trust her enough to make such a monumental decision?

"Uncle Shun would be here if he could—"

"He could be here, if he really wanted," Fumiko said sharply. "He doesn't have to run all over the world for these high-profile cases. We're wealthy enough."

"Yeah," Izzy said around a heavy sigh. "I guess that's true. Maybe Shun likes the freedom of being able to choose."

"Choose what? He already chose, Iz. He chose to not be here."

What was she supposed to say to that? Honestly, she kind of agreed with Fumiko. Shun was an adult and she had no place to question the decisions he made. But why couldn't he work closer to home? Or come home more? Why did Chi and Fumiko have to follow him all over the place?

She wasn't going to say any of that, of course. Fumiko was obviously having a hard time, she didn't need Izzy to make it worse. She lifted her arm and wrapped it around Fumiko's shoulders. She pulled her cousin closer, pressing a kiss against her temple.

"I'm sorry, Fu. I wish I could say more but…" There was nothing to say, really. Nothing to make her feel better, only Shun could do that. "I know it's not the same but I'm here. I'm going to be here."

She was touched but she wondered how true those words were. Would she be there for Fumiko, even when she was busy with University next year? Or what about if she was busy with her friends? Or Mori-senpai?

"I'm not holding you to that, Iz. You'd choose Mori-senpai over me if it came down to it."

"No, I wouldn't." Izzy's response came quickly and without much thought. She said it as if it were a fact. "If it came down to it, whatever it is, I'd choose you. Mori would understand. He'd choose Honey-chan over me."

Fumiko was staring at her hard, speechless. Eighteen years ago, Morimoto Masami chose Alphonse Giovanni over Morimoto Chihiro. Something Chihiro had to deal with, accept, accept that her Masami would choose romance over her sister.

"Though, to be honest, I don't think Mori would even make me choose," Izzy grinned and was clearly thinking of him. "I think he'd scold me if I ever put someone before you."

"He's good like that."

"I suppose," Izzy tapped her chin. "You know, we're not our mothers. We don't have to make their mistakes. We make our own and we don't have to lose each other either."

Fumiko laughed softly but it sounded weak. "You're so wise." She turned to return Izzy's kiss, planting it on the brunette's cheek in affection.

It was almost strange how close they were after only living together after a year. Sure, they spoke to each other on the phone growing up, speaking frequently as the years went by. They sent each other photos, gushing over their growing beauty as each year aged them. But they'd only met each other in person when Izzy came to stay with them.

How could they be so close? She wasn't sure but she believed her.

She really, really did.

TeeBeMe: we love a heart to heart, don't we? I read somewhere about the mangaka of Ouran saying that Mori would be one of those loving, doting husbands once he got married and had children so I like to think he wouldn't have a problem with talking about Izzy and what he likes about her.

I hope you guys enjoyed and hopefully my dumbass won't take so long to update the next chapter.

Potrei guardarti tutto il giorno,- I could look at you all day

Comportati - Behave

Certo, il mio mondo - Of course, my world.

Basta - Enough

Merda - Shit

Scusa, papà - Sorry, dad