This is how bad my writting can get when I'm up at 5am and running on with absolutely no sleep. Like, as if my life wasn't already a mess because of exam's week, I decided that gaming all night would be a good idea. Well, here it is the result of it. The chapter had been half done for quite a while but things happened and just now I was able to finish it but don't expect too much; although I made an effort to catch any error, there's only so many times you can look at your own writing. If you happen to catch a gruesome error, let me know.
Chapter Nine: The Prelude of the End - Part II
Giotto looked at him with almost unforgiving eyes. Untrue to the emotions displayed in his eyes, he actually felt hurt, broken, toyed with. He should've known all along — no, he choose to take the gamble and all of its risks. He chooses to believe blindly in an unknown boy and he was paying for its consequences now. He had been a fool.
It was the risk he took. As happened many other times, he chose to believe in something many called 'gut feeling' and with that he took the boy and welcomed him into his home - he couldn't deny that much to someone who happened to be distressed, much less because he was hurt. They had talked, shared meals and deep in, Giotto thought the boy reminded him of himself in his younger days. Like a little brother he never had.
But if he said he didn't mind the risk of being lied to at all, he'd be the worst kind of liar ever known.
G had warned him and he preferred to ignore his best friend advice. But G was right, like he always was. Had he heard him, he wouldn't be feeling like this.
It hurt.
It hurt to be betrayed.
It hurt to be taken as a fool.
But Giotto was no fool.
Giotto had only let himself by clouded by his Intuition, like he did many other times. And again, as G had once said to him, he let himself be controlled by something other than rational thought. He was sensitive, he had to admit it. Though most of times he managed to keep a calm face, under a mask, he was actually like anyone else — controlled by emotions such as fear, anger, and happiness. And at that moment, he was feeling like never before. He felt empty.
The blond man had gone through many hardships before, and he also had felt hurt many times before, but this time was more than that because he never had been betrayed by someone he had placed his trust on. It was like he chose to be betrayed.
How could the boy he knew as Tsunayoshi Sawada be laughing at a stranger who happened to have invaded their mansion? It was beyond logic and he could only wonder:
Was he imagining everything? The boy was nothing like his eyes saw him as? Or perhaps, was he just seeing a mirage – the brunette boy wasn't laughing with the red haired kid as if they were long time friends.
Primo was honestly confused; it was like there was a whirlwind inside him.
Feeling a hand being placed on his shoulder, Giotto looked up, being greeted by concerned red eyes. He lowered his gaze to where G's eyes were looking now, and to his surprise there was blood dripping on the ground. It was his blood nonetheless. He ever so slowly lifted his hand and sure enough, it was the source of all the mess. His bloody nails were dirtied with his blood and the deep cut in his hand looked uglier than he dared to say. He had been so distracted thinking of how miserable he was that he didn't realize he was digging his nails deep into his palm hard enough to draw blood.
"We need to tend it," G told him in a low voice, as if he was also in shock. To him, it was somewhat comforting. G understood him even after he ignored his warns. "Come, Primo."
G rested a hand on the blond man's shoulder yet again, reassuring him that they would take care of the problem later, and directed his boss to the doorway. As they passed by Alaude, G made sure to glance at the other man directly in the eyes and make sure that he understood his silent request.
Find out about their connection to the mafia.
Alaude didn't say anything but he gave a quick nod with his head and as they left the corridor and then the dungeon his eyes never left of his boss figure. The quiet blond man gave a quick and last glance at the two boys in the room, threatening them with only his eyes, and closed the door with a low but echoing thud.
"How is he?" Asked a voice the moment he closed the door of his office.
Alaude looked briefly at the person, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the other, before rolling them in annoyance.
He didn't respond, instead, asked a question of his own. "Are you still here? I thought I said you to leave. You're a bothersome."
Daemon faked a hurt expression before laughing his trademark laugh.
"My, as cold as ever." He watched as the cloud guardian made his way to his table and tiredly sat on his chair, putting his elbows on the mahogany table and supporting his head on one of the hands before a what he assumed to be a sigh left his lips. It was so wrong because Alaude didn't sigh. It wasn't like him. Chuckling yet again he continued, "And I thought I said 'I'd wait here'. I'm not fond of heartbreaking moments."
Alaude let out another sigh, this time louder and longer, in impatience Daemon presumed. When he spoke again, his eyebrows were knitting together, like rarely they did.
"Primo was in...shock."
Daemon snorted. "It's no wonder. He easily attaches himself to other people without asking the same. And that's his weak point."
The blond man made no mention to agree or disagree with the other man but something in his expression, in the way his eyes darkened as he remembered the scene from before, said that he agreed with Daemon.
Darting his eyes to the said man, Alaude gave a glare that could cut steel. "Now that you know what you wanted, leave. Before I beat you up." He added.
Smirking, Daemon threw his arm in the air, as if in surrender.
"You didn't have to say twice, I was about to leave."
Daemon walked to the door, opening it, but before leaving for good he glanced over his shoulder and called out for Alaude.
"My illusions might be of help if you're having difficult with those two boys."
The mist guardian didn't wait for a reply and closed the door behind him. Unknown to him, the moment he left the room, Alaude pulled from an inside pocket of his dark trenchcoat a piece of paper. Alaude stared unblinking at the paper, pondering about Daemon's offer – which he wouldn't accept really. In the labels of the yellowish paper read:
Mr. Alaude, here is the information you wanted. The person you mentioned, Tsunayoshi Sawada, isn't in the database of names in Italy and much less in Japan. In other words, he doesn't exist!
Alaude narrowed his eyes as he leaned further on his chair. Glancing over quickly at the letter, his icy blue eyes locked on the words 'he doesn't exist'. If the person Tsunayoshi Sawada didn't exist, then it was one of two: he gave a false name or he was more than the eyes could meet, and if that was true, then it'd be a lot difficult to figure out who he was.
Just who are you, Tsunayoshi Sawada?
Upstairs, in an improvised infirmary, Giotto sat on a bed. He unwillingly was dragged to the infirmary-like place and no matter how many times he said he was fine, G would throw even more worried looks at him. It was written in his red eyes that he knew his childhood friend was anything but fine. The way Giotto looked at his front was like that of a sick man – his eyes were devoid of any hope.
"If only you weren't so trustful Giotto..." said G after a time of silence. He didn't like to see his friend with a hurtful expression such as that, so it was obvious that he'd want to protect him – even if it meant they'd have to do harsh treatment with the boys. "Come on, it's like they say 'better sooner than later'."
Primo didn't say anything. It was like he was living in his own world now and it frightened the red haired man.
Giotto had always been so kind and he still was even after all the hardships they had gone through. It was unforgivable that someone would get hold of that and use against him. Whoever they were, G wouldn't forgive them.
What he didn't expect, though, was that Giotto seemed ready to speak. Actually, he had to ask what he said again.
"What was that again? I wasn't listening..."
"I'm sorry, G..." the blond man said in a bare whisper, looking down at his feet, perhaps in shame, perhaps still in shook. "But you don't know anything. You don't know how I'm feeling right know, it's like I made a bad judgment...and when I think about it, it could've put you and the others in danger. I can't forgive my-"
Oh, he sure wasn't-
"Giotto," G's voice interrupted him, but it wasn't because he cut through his chatter, far from that, it was because his voice alone threatened him if he dared to say another word G wouldn't be able to hold himself. When the blond man looked at his face he knew he was doomed.
"...Yes?" he asked, barely being able to hid his shutter.
"Don't." It was all G said and it was all he needed to say. Giotto immediately understood and managed to force a small smile to his lips.
Upon seeing his best friend force a smile, G grabbed him by his shirt and shook him, which startled Primo as G wasn't one to use force on someone – not anymore at least. They kept staring at each other for what seemed minutes; red and fierce eyes stared at blue and sorrowful ones, until G narrowed his eyes and his hands ever so slowly let go of Primo's shirt.
"Don't," he repeated in a soft and low voice, barely passing as a slight whisper. Then, his voice became rougher and his usual calm red eyes seemed to burn in angry flames. "Don't ever say it again, understood? You don't know what you're talking about. You made a bad judgment? So what? Giotto, for god's sake, you're not supposed to be perfect! And really...you don't need to worry about putting us in any more danger - being with you is dangerous enough already. It's pretty damn late to worry about it, don't you think?"
Giotto looked at his friend for some seconds until he glanced to his side and let out a chuckle. He didn't know for how many minutes he chuckled but he only stopped until he felt warm drops falling on his face. He had laughed so hard that he was crying, though he also felt it was partially because he was feeling miserable for even thinking he was useless. Giotto knew that much, he wasn't useless and he just had to be shaken roughly by G to be certain of it.
"...yes, you're right," said Primo after regaining his breath and wiping the tears stains off. "I don't know how I could let myself down. I should know better that I've you all - my guardians, my friends."
Shaking his head, G rested his hands on Giotto's shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze.
"Primo, you know I'm not like Asari that would say the most embarrassing cheesy lines but you can always count on us for everything, we are your guardians." There was a moment of silence. Giotto swallowed the other man's words and G looked to his hands, trying to hide a faint pink blush on his face. He wasn't one to say cheesy lines, as he had stated, but he had just said one - or if that wasn't one, he didn't know what it was.
"Now, what are you going to do?" Giotto gave a quick glance at the other man before turning his eyes back to the floor. In truth, he didn't know what to do. He had been following his Intuition so far. True, he also had taken a like to the boy who looked like him; he was like a little brother to him. And in any case, foe or not, it was better to stay close to them.
"We're going to be extra careful around that brats but as for the mafia party..." G continued, looking directly at his friend as his eyes widened at the wild idea he just had. "-You sure can't be thinking of taking them with us!"
Giotto's hand twitched on his lap. Precisely as always, G had found out what he was thinking. He looked up, calmness gracing his features, and responded:
"Then, G, what should we do? Don't you agree that it would be safer for us if they were close to us?" G couldn't argue with that. It was the truth. It would be dumb let them alone in the mansion, while they were away, with only some guards. "The mansion will be safe if there would be any outside attack but we can't say the same if it were to happen from inside, and we can't take the risk of testing it."
But G didn't look like he was convinced.
"Then what about-"
"No." Giotto shook his head ultimately and gave him a hard glare. "Did you forget the rules? It may seem like a normal party but it is not – we must follow the rules. The family will be there."
Silence greeted them. Giotto knew G didn't like arguing with him, mostly when he sets his mind in something. It was pointless, as the tattooed man once said.
"We were already ready to take Tsunayoshi with us, or whoever he may be...but now we're only taking him under different circumstances."
"Oh, yes. We're only taking him under different circumstances. Right, how could I not have thought about it? How stupid of me!" G sarcastically said, rolling his eyes.
The storm guardian let out a tired sigh and leaned against the wall near the bed. He couldn't believe they were about to head out to one of the most influenced cities, ruled by the most powerful mafia family in the country, and they were taking two other problems with them. One day this lifestyle he led would be the death of him.
"You're mad, Giotto, mad."
Primo's feature softened, a small smile tugging on his lips.
"Thank you, G. And I'm sorry for always asking you to do the most difficult tasks."
G scoffed. "You should've thought about it before creating the vigilant group," he said, closing his eyes in annoyance, but smiling a little nonetheless. "Though I'm also at fault for following your outrageous ideas."
They remained in silence yet again before the right-hand man spoke, this time his voice sounding tired but resolved.
"The brats are coming with us then."
At night, in a more than average size and cozy room, a blond man sat on a chair looking through his window. Usually at this hour, Giotto would pick up a book and read it by the fireplace until sleepiness hit him, but as he was feeling conflicted, looking through the window suddenly seemed like a good idea.
The full moon light illuminated his bedroom, casting shadows where it didn't reach. Its bright light made the room look larger than what it was, stretching the walls way further as if they were being pulled by straps from behind the cold white rocks. The ceiling, though, seemed that would go down any moment. It seemed so frightening close now. He couldn't suppress a shiver at the thought. Looking again at the moon, as a form of distraction from the walls and the ceiling, the young boss wondered what kind of wonderful mysteries lay behind the natural satellite when a clear knock on the door snapped him out of his reverie.
"Come in," he called. "The door's unlocked."
The reddish wooden door opened, revealing a tall blond man. Alaude closed the door behind him and took a few steps closer to his boss. Giotto was surprised to see it was his cloud guardian, the one who most keep away from others as possible. And surely Giotto was no exception, even though the quieter man said he was a worthy man and he had no objection to work for him, he still kept his distance from him.
"To what do I owe this pleasure, Alaude?" He tried to maintain an impassive face, as he did many other times, but his lips tugged slightly upward in an amused smile.
"We need to talk," the man said, stopping right before the other.
"Of course," Giotto nodded, noting the graveness in his voice. "Sit?" he asked, gesturing towards an unoccupied chair by his side.
"No need."
"Right…" And so Alaude stood in place, boring his eyes on him as if he was reprimanding a kid. Giotto thought for a moment what he had done to incite the man's rage and nothing came to his mind. After trying to get hold of anything he might have done wrong and getting the conclusion he did nothing at all, Giotto darted his eyes anywhere but on Alaude's. It was getting awfully awkward. It was then, out of the corner of his eye, that an object caught his interest.
"You seem fond of this book," he casually commented, glancing over at the tiny and worn object in the others hands that read 'Dei delitti e delle pene' in the title. "In Italian no less. I thought you didn't like Italian?"
"It's useful for the job and it's originally written in Italian," Alaude, as casually as he, responded. "'When in Rome do as Romans do' was it?"
Looking up at the other, Giotto shrugged. "People change, it seems more like it."
"Hm."
"Then, what brings you here? You rarely come to talk to me so openly if not about family issues."
"G told me about your decision."
"Ah...about that," Giotto nodded, putting the pieces together. G might have let something out about his insecurity to Alaude. "He's a quick one. What do you think? You too think I'm being unreasonable?"
"Unreasonable?" he made a sound that seemed like a scoff. "Far from that, but it still is dangerous. Despite that, I agree with you. It's better if we have our eyes on them, mostly when…" he trailed off, narrowing his icy blue eyes as he remembered about the letter he received earlier, but he decided it wasn't of great importance to tell now. "No, it was the best decision nonetheless."
Giotto raised an eyebrow at his sudden change of pace, because for a moment it seemed like Alaude was going to say something, but he didn't argue about it. Alaude had his reasons if he didn't want to talk about something and he respected that.
"Thank you, Alaude. I appreciate that."
"Hm." There was a faint nod and Alaude turned to leave. "I'm going now."
"Wait!" Giotto called. Alaude made no mention to turn back, but he stopped nonetheless and looked over his shoulder, raising an elegant eyebrow.
'Do you think I'm still worth being a boss?', he wanted to ask but the question never left his mouth. A somewhat sad smile adorned his lips as he shook his head, looking to a far corner in the room instead of facing Alaude with that expression.
"Do you...do you think I've become any different from before?" he asked instead, remembering the conversation he had with G before. "G said I've become different...that even though I'm still being openly trustful, I'm taking 'things' more professionally. Do you think that?"
Alaude didn't even blink as he responded with a blank expression, "There's nothing wrong with what he said. When we met, you weren't as strong as now. You were reluctant. However, you've still got a long way to go."
Giotto chuckled lightly. "I suppose."
"Then, I'm taking my leave." He left the room before Giotto could ask him weird questions again.
Was that his attempt to cheer me up? The blond boss chuckled again as Alaude left the room. It seems I'm always being protect by my guardians.
Of course. Because…
"Don't you misunderstand, Giotto," Alaude hissed his name with venom. He had been standing before him, looking down on him with his cold blue eyes, making the other blond man feel like he had shrink. "I'm not submitting to you like a dog would to its master. The moment I feel your resolution waver, the moment I feel like you're nothing but a weak man, you're a dead man. I'm only borrowing my strength to you, that's all."
Giotto darted his eyes to the same door Alaude had left moments before, still getting the bone-dry feeling from the memory of years ago. He would better hold tight on his resolution.
Later that night, before everyone went to sleep, the guardians reunited in Giotto's office to get to know of the news. Once Giotto had announced that their 'prisoners' would go with them to the mafia capital for the party, a question raised in their heads. After that, what would they do with them? Surely they wouldn't hold on them for too long. It was risky.
"What if we handed them to the cops?" Knuckle suddenly suggested, taking everyone by surprise, as he wasn't one to be harsh when dealing with other people. Usually he'd try dealing through conversation and see if he could get any useful information. Though, it seemed that even he had his limits. "After all, one of them broke into private land."
That suggestion made Giotto shiver. He knew what handing them to the cops would lead to. The boys would be put into a cold and stink cell, with no other font of brightness than the tiny window out of reach, that is, if there would be any window at all. He knew well how it worked. The overused trunk had barely enough space for one person and the washstand would be utterly disgusting, expelling a rancid and sickening smell that would turn over anyone's stomach. But the worst of all, he was sure of it, was when the candle from the single candlelight hanging before the cell burned down. Darkness enveloped everything and it was all there was to it. And the mere thought of it…
made his hands sweaty and shaky.
G, who had been silently watching him since the suggestion left Knuckle's mouth, noticed it and quickly responded for him.
"I don't think it's a good idea. We can't exactly trust the police – don't you forget the omertà, breaking our code of silence means death – and even if we would, it wouldn't mean they would handle the brats well. Those two might be too much for those wimps. We'll have to take care of this problem ourselves."
Once, it had occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, Giotto didn't like cramped spaces and as a soft bastard like he was, he probably didn't want the brats to go through such thing. But he knew it wasn't all.
Giotto caught his stare and silently thanked him. In the past, G sworn to him that he would never say a word about the time Giotto had spent in prison. No other guardian except him knew about that and that was enough. It was a past he was ashamed of and didn't want to remember, even if its ghosts haunted him every night.
"It still bothers you, right?" He heard G ask after everyone else had left them alone.
He had been staring at the window, seeing how suddenly had got dark until as quickly he turned to look to another place other than the ominous window.
The bright full moon, the only natural source of brightness in that particular dark night, was out of sight behind the dense clouds of rain. The singing of the owls had died and not a single star could be seen. The night could be romantic in many aspects but it also was frightening in others. The twilight, however, was the worst. The light would gradually leave and shadows would grow in size until there was only darkness. The sight of the sun leaving could be somewhat beautiful and breathtaking to some but it was only the prelude of the end. It meant another day was ending, leaving only a trace that it had been there not too long in the horizon – where the color would stay orange-ish for some minutes before it darkened completely. And then, it was as if all the animals had died and quietness would take place. It was too dark and quiet too comfort.
"I don't know what you're talking about," the blond man replied evenly, not daring to look in the other's eyes.
"Yes, you do," said G, shaking his head. Giotto must be dumb if he thought he didn't see him avoiding his eyes from the outside. He rested his hands on the other's shoulder and sensed him tense up as he said his next words, "The dark."
When he got no response, he took it as that he had hit the nail on the head. Giotto had taken to shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and look everywhere but him. He was avoiding him.
Giotto felt that keeping eye contact was too painful for some reason.
"It is the dark again, isn't it?" he asked again, his voice low and his eyebrows knitting together.
Jerking away from his iron grip, Giotto looked at his eyes with a fierce look. "G…I don't want to talk about it. You know it makes me uncomfortable. I don't want to remember that place. Anymore. I ask of you; please."
G felt his jaw tighten, resulting his mouth to become a fine line in his face, but he couldn't bring himself to insist on a matter Giotto didn't want to talk about – no happen how much it'd make him feel better once he released his fears. Even though he knew most of what happened the time Giotto spent in prison, his friend always deliberately kept away some details. G had his suspicious that Giotto had grown to be afraid of the dark and confined places, but the blond man never admitted it, too ashamed, he thought.
"Right, I'm sorry."
Present – Year 20XX
"Shoichi, repeat what you just said, please," said the hitman in a grimacing tone, his fedora casting a shadow over his semblance.
Reborn wasn't one to plead for anything, but when he did it was a rather disturbing and frightening sight. It was unpleasant.
Shoichi hated that. He hated when the arcobaleno selfishly used his invention to transform in an adult and bully him. He hated his goddammed invention. God, he hated his stupid stomachache. And damn that Spanner. He hated him too.
Gulping, Shoichi searched for the right words this time. "A-according to what Spanner and I have been searching, even if we did manage to do the inverse process of the 10-year-bazooka, which is going to the past and bring Tsuna-san and the others back to the present, the likelihood of it doesn't work is high. Tsuna-san, and most likely the others as well, went to the past not through the 10-year-bazooka process, but through the ring's. The ring's will, to be precise."
Reborn narrowed his eyes. "So you're meaning to tell me that whatever made Tsuna go to the past, it is the only method to bring him back?" Before the young scientist could reply, he added, "And not we bring him back for what you implied, but he'll have to do it himself."
Shoichi nervously nodded.
Reborn clicked his tongue and for a moment Shoichi thought he made messed up. "What have you done, baka-Tsuna."
The tall man tore his gaze away from him and Shoichi let out a sigh of relief he didn't know he had been holding.
It'll be harder than we thought to bring Tsuna-san and the others back.
Giotto seemed unable to sleep as he turned over to the other side of the bed. The sound of soft rustling echoed through the quiet room, which made the blond man stir his legs even more and let a frustrated sigh left his mouth. He tossed his blankets to the side and sat on his bed, his knees pressing into his chest, and took a good portion of his golden locks in his hands.
The man couldn't forget the way Tsunayoshi Sawada looked pleadingly at him before G dragged him out of the room. The boy took hold of his stare and somehow seemed to try a communication through eyes only. It was insane but he understood most of it. It was even more insane that even after all of what he had been through, he still was willing to listen to the boy...like a fool he was.
He wanted to listen to him! It was why he took the boy under his wings in the first place. He wanted to know more about him; why he looked so much like him, why he had a Vongola ring and so many other questions.
It was curiosity that kept him into believing the boy, even though the odds were against it.
Glancing over at his bedstand clock, its hands indicating 11:30, and noticing how late it was, Giotto threw himself back onto his bed, rolled to the left and shut his eyes. He soon was graced with peaceful dreams like never before.
The next morning came as a bless after the previous day. It was finally the day of the departure to the mafia capital – Palermo, Sicily. The party wouldn't be until tomorrow, but Giotto had decided that they would need half a day to get there, thus traveling the first half of the previous day to the party.
It was six in the morning when Giotto opened his eyes blearily, took in his surroundings and stretched his legs out. After a yawn, he pushed himself slowly up on his back towards the headboard and shuddered – it was a little cold. He threw his legs out of the bed and headed to his bathroom. After a refreshing and warm bath, Giotto left the bathroom, already fully dressed in his pinstripe suit. He was about to go to his personnel desk when a light knock on his door made him stop in his tracks.
"Primo, are you up?" It was G and Giotto hurriedly called him in. The redhaired man entered, muttering a quietly 'sorry for intruding' and made his way to his boss. "How rare to see you up so early in the morning. Well, it can't be helped..."
Giotto broke a smile and gestured for the other follow him and sit on one of the crouches in the far left corner of the room.
"Is everything ready?" the blond boss asked, after adjusting himself on the crouch.
"What do you take me for, Giotto?" G gave a rare chuckle. "Of course the carriages and our luggage will be ready at the right time."
Nodding, Giotto directed his eyes to the dying flames in his fireplace. He watched the weak flames dancing for a moment or two before asking almost in a whisper, "What about them?"
G darted a quick glance at the other before looking at Giotto's personnel collection of books. It had been increasing since the last time he saw them – perhaps he should borrow one, but then again, their choice of books were completely different. Giotto would prefer recreative reading while he would prefer technical books. Nonetheless, he answered:
"Daemon and Alaude will be taking care of transferring them," he said in a mechanical way, not bothering in responding to Giotto's worried stare. He knew that the other still cared for the brat and in some disturbing way he knew where that protectiveness came from. "They will be riding a different carriage but in the train they will be in the same cabin as us. It makes things safer."
Giotto gave a little nod, apprehensive that they had to take such harsh measures, but he supposed it was for the best. They were so young, so there must have a reason for them doing what they did. He couldn't exactly say to G that he was willing to hear their side of the story though.
He tried not to think much about it as he continued on their conversation. "I presume you took care of the their clothes. If I recall, before all this mess, you ordered one for Tsunayoshi?"
"I ordered," G replied and then sighed, rubbing a hand on his temple. "I ordered a pair, by the way."
At this, Giotto looked at him in curiosity and arched his eyebrow. "A pair? Why is that?"
G sure couldn't have predicted that there would be another one. However, before he could voice his thoughts, his storm guardian beat him to it.
"Of course, they're different in style. As we didn't know of his true nature by then, and you seemed somewhat fond of him, I thought of being a little nice and let him choose the style of his suit. Who knew it could come in hand..."
Primo gave out a sigh of relieve, which was noticed by the other man, and lifted himself from his crouch, crossing the room gently and only stopping when he was in front of his writing-desk. He opened the second drawer to the right and picked an opened letter, reading its content for what seemed the 100th time since it arrived a few weeks ago. The letters in black ink were cursive and small, which made impossible to understand a single sentence in some points, but the handwriting was elegant and neat.
Making his way to sit back on his crouch, Giotto pointed at the letter. "Do you think he is coming?"
The tattooed man immediately understood his question and nodded.
"I sent the letter as urgently as you told me to do but I don't think it'll made before he leaves. Even if it would, I don't think his response would arrive in time – most likely we'll be already on our way to Palermo." He took a breath. "And I don't think he would miss it – he has been attending the party year after year."
Primo seemed thoughtful for a moment, a hand under his chin, rubbing it contently, before his lips broke in a smile.
"Yes, you're right. He wouldn't miss the annual mafia families meeting."
The blond boss looked up as G rose from his crouch and crossed the room, stopping at the door, opening it a little before he looked behind from his shoulder.
"The breakfast's is at 8am, we'll leave at 9am," As he noticed Primo was about to say something, he lifted his hand, stopping the other man, and smirked. "Don't get us late this time, Giotto." And with that he left; the other man, astonished, his mouth hanging open, could only helpless look at the door.
"I thought…" Giotto muttered to himself. "I though he had already forgotten about last year…"
Well, apparently not, he thought and his eyes scanned over the letter in his hands one last time, before a gentle smile tugged at his lips. It had been a long time since that person last visited.
"He will be surprised…as much as I was."
Primo put the letter back at the drawer and headed for the door. It was going to be a long day; he needed to get prepared, but first, he still needed to do some things before the breakfast.
Of course, being a boss had its drawbacks. Paperwork was one of them.
Paperwork was detestable. Paperwork was boring. Paperwork should just go rot in hell. It was what Primo told himself after rubbing his temples repeatedly. A potential headache was making its way and there was nothing he could do about it. How long had it been? His eyes darted to his desk clock and a long sigh left his mouth. He couldn't believe it; he just couldn't believe it. Thirty minutes! Just thirty minutes! It seemed like hours!
Placing the paper back on the massively huge stack of paper, he stretched out and shut his eyes. No one had ever told him he would have to deal with those boring reports all day. Sometimes he lost track of how many hours he would spent reading report after report, and depending whether he approve it or not, he would sign it and write a report of his own. It was probably because it was boring as hell that no one dared to warn him. Or perhaps because he must have done something very wrong in his past life and now he was paying for it; that must be it.
At first he thought he could deal easily with the increasing stack of paperwork but he was wrong. It had gotten worse.
"What should I do?" he asked himself, looking at the frightening papers before looking at his clock. He still had twenty minutes before breakfast. There were two options: avoiding paperwork for now or do the other things in list mental list. He decided to continue the mental torture. By own experience he knew that postponing the paperwork would do nothing more than bring more pain later. And if he were fast enough, he would have time to water his garden.
When the clocks hands hit 7:50, he put down his pen and the only sound in the room he had been hearing for the past hour – the rustling of his pen on the paper – died. It was about time if he wanted to go to the garden and water his flowers, he had done enough already, the rest would have to wait until he came back.
By the time he made to the breakfast room, his guardians and the other two boys, were already waiting for him. It was a rare sight seeing all of his guards together for a meal; usually they would just do whatever they want and when he looked at Alaude, who was in the far chair and looked like he was about to kill someone for even suggesting of sitting together with so many people, which made him ten times creepier than usual, the blond man shuddered a little.
Primo glanced at the redhaired kid, who looked just like Cozart, and then at the brunette boy. The two of them seemed to be avoiding his eyes and he couldn't blame them; he was supposed to be a feared mafia boss, one of the strongest. One moment they would be chatting idly during breakfast, the other they would be lying lifeless in some dirt corner of the city and he, Primo, was the one who would decide that. It was the kind the image people would have of him.
He wouldn't do those things though. He was different and every day he woke he convinced himself of it, otherwise it'd be pointless to have created Vongola.
"I'm sorry for the wait," he said, his voice tone sounding more serious and imperative, like the one he used for meetings only, and made his way over to his usual chair. Every guardian looked at him as he sat, except for the two boys who kept ignoring his stares. He was beginning to be concerned; it was as if he was the bad one in the story. No, he thought. A mafia boss might seem like a bad person to some but I am not. He put on his best charming smile when the dishes were slowly positioned on the long table and cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention.
"Let's enjoy the food, shall we?"
Thank you for the 400 followers~! Thank you 2yuki7 for the 100th review and Nijikawa Satori for your incentive, it kept me writing over the night. But lol, I wish I'd be able to post a chapter once a week or even every day but it's impossible for me. Gomen! T_T The updates might come faster in the winter though...
And the 10k chapter is finally over (part one and two)! There's nothing major in this chapter but shit's gonna happen the next chapters. I don't know if I'll explain Giotto's past fully in the next chapters, because it'd take a whole chapter perhaps, and it'd drag down the pace I'm setting, but it's not really relevant right now. Maybe some day I might write a side-story for it, but until then, I hope to see you guys in the next update.
And...is someone as eager as me to Christmas break? Because I so can't wait for it! My hellish exams are finally over (well, for now). Thank you for reading :)