OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Training
This is all they can do to prepare for the danger.
Mentors
They each have their own training schedules and personal tutors. Tsuna with Reborn and Basil, that boy now out of the hospital. Hayato with Shamal, and Takeshi with Tsuyoshi. Ryohei with Colonello, and Kyoya, unwillingly, with Dino.
As for Mukuro and Lambo...
Lonely
"Sorellona!" Lambo whines, clinging onto Noriko as if she will disappear if he lets go. "Everyone else is so busy and no one has time to play with Lambo-san anymore! It's not fair!"
Despite his childish tone, there is pain in his bright green eyes and his bottom lip trembles. She wonders if he is thinking of the Bovino Famiglia even as she rocks him gently and cuddles him close.
"I know. I know, Lambo-kun. It's okay though. They'll be back," Noriko says, turning her head to gaze absently out the window. It's a cloudy sky today. "There's nothing to worry about."
Despite her confident tone, there is turmoil in her quiet, sweet smile and her eyelashes shade her expression. He wonders if his big sister is worried, too, even as he buries his face in her neck and cries.
Lies
"Oya, oya, such a cold welcome, dear Noriko," Mukuro says after being ignored by said girl for twenty minutes.
It's what he gets for appearing at her breakfast table one day, completely out of the blue. He's fortunate that her parents are currently on a vacation, courtesy of a mystery contest they had never even heard of before.
It's alright. Noriko had waved off her parents' half-hearted invitation to join them, claiming school related issues and wished them a happy time in the Caribbeans.
All she truly wants is for them to be faraway from Namimori before the insanity starts.
Noriko continues reading her book, much too aware of the mismatched eyes watching her but pretending obliviousness. She does not want to talk to the Mist.
"Kufufu, how strange," Mukuro muses, head tilted at a coy angle. "You chose to play the part of heroine...and yet, you don't even like me, do you? I suppose it was a bad memory, after all."
She is startled into a laugh, a tired, hoarse one if his narrowed eyes are any indication. "You have no idea, Mukuro," Noriko says, smiling faintly. "Now, please leave."
Mukuro doesn't bat an eyelid but rises to his feet gracefully, a twisted smirk adorning his face. "Why, of course, dear Noriko." It is at the doorway that he pauses and turns his head back. "You know, don't you? Of my darling Chrome?"
"Of course," Noriko echoes and hears the door close.
Grave
Noriko feels it when the Varia arrive. It's akin to a ice cube being dropped down her back, a pair of feet dancing over her grave.
Hmm. Where is Cynthia's grave?
But it is who follow the Varia that draws her attention.
Pink
Noriko stares blankly at the pair of Cervello staring, equally blank, back at her.
So. This is what has become of her organization. This is what has become of her descendants.
Cynthia had a boy and a girl, twins named Sonali and Amaris. She died before they reached their first birthday.
"Who are you?" one of the girls ask, the one on the left. "You are...one of us, but not."
"No," she says immediately. "I am not one of you. Never imply so again."
"Then," the other girl says, stiffening a little, "who are you? What are you?"
"That doesn't matter," she says. "Why are you asking unnecessary questions? Your task is to Judge, only to Judge."
There is a beat of silence, before both incline their heads in unison.
"You are correct," says the girl on the left. "Regardless of who you are, you will not be permitted to interfere in the Ring Battles."
"That is not my purpose," she responds and doesn't know who is speaking through her mouth at the moment. But it doesn't matter either, does it? "See to it that this dispute is kept fair."
The girl on the right bristles slightly. "Who are you to question the Cervello?"
"Your allegiance is not to the Varia Leader," she says coolly and turns to leave. "But to the Judgment. Do not forget."
They do not attempt to stop her from leaving.
History
It's a little known fact, but the Cervello are not only responsible for the Judgment, but also the Records. They are the Judges, after all, and their statements are meant to be unbiased, untainted by human emotion.
In a world where history is painted by the loser's blood by the winner, these Records are very important.
Even more unknown is the fact that Amaris, her beautiful daughter, had erased her mother's records - near to every last thing known about Cervello Cynthia - at her own request when she had received her mother's will at age of maturity.
It's a far cry from the legends and rumors and myths that are whispered in the corridors of the Vongola of the Primo and his Guardians, but the Arbiter is meant to be separate, even in time and paper and ink.
If Giotto, G., Ugetsu, Knuckle, Aluade, Lampo, and Daemon are shining figures in history, then Cynthia is shrouded in darkness. There is precious little known about her, much less her abilities and position several hundred years ago.
Among the Cervello, the story of their founder, of the first Judge and Arbiter, the one and only true Moon ever born, is passed like the tales of old: from mouth to mouth, in sings and chants and lore.
They are the only ones who have even the slightest inkling of how their ancestor was.
Sonali and Amaris are dead. Deaddeaddead. Just as dead as Giotto and his Guardians.
Noriko cries silently.