I.
Lucian Nesca will readily admit that he's an old man.
Born in 1959 – 1969 he tells all the beautiful women and men he meets, he'll fib his age a bit if it meant having a warm companion in his bed that evening – in the heart of Sicily, his childhood was surprisingly normal and mundane for a man that would eventually become a high-ranking member of the Mafia.
His parents were of the prim and proper Catholic type and made sure that their small family of three attended mass every Sunday and prayed before each meal and Lucian was your average, every day kid growing up. He hated math and history – boring subjects with all those numbers and dates and facts – and loved physical education and home economics – the former being considered an 'acceptable' pastime while the latter was a guilty pleasure of his for the longest time, though nowadays, everyone seemed to fall head-over-heels for a man that could cook and, boy, could Lucian Nesca cook!
He got okay grades in the various subjects his parents – and society – deemed important enough for him to take and he never complained or spoke up about things that he wanted to do or things he liked.
He learned early on in life that if he wanted to get anywhere in life, all he had to do was shut-up and do what he was told.
And so, that was how the first half of his life went – blindly obeying whatever Society and those in power told him to do.
And then he met Christiano Schiavone. A not-Sky who had spent barely a year with his Sky before losing said Sky to the cruel reality that was the Mafia.
It was in the throngs of Christiano's Dissonance – his Sky's death still fresh and raw in his mind and Flame despite the time that had passed – that they met and Lucian felt something in him… awaken at the sheer amount of agony and loss displayed on Signore Schiavone's face.
What followed was a whirlwind of Flames and explanations and blood and conversations and training and sweat and discovery and tears and completion all condensed within the span of a few years.
Thus the Schiavone Family was established within the influential and powerful circles of the Mafia.
And thus, Christiano passed away a few months later.
He was buried with the bullet still in his brain and heart.
Lucian grieved; of course he did, for Christiano was the one who removed the self-inflicted shackles Lucian had placed on himself and showed him what it meant to be alive, what it meant to be someone in the world. Yet, time continued his ruthless march forward and soon, it was Christiano's young son and heir that he reported to, that he called Signore.
Antonio could not be more different from his late-father.
While Christiano was a born-and-bred Mafioso, the man had been softened by his time with his Sky and it showed in the way Christiano ran his businesses and Family.
Antonio did not have that softness.
Lucian wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse – for whom, he wasn't entirely sure.
Young Antonio ran the Family like he ran his businesses, with a cold and detached manner, as if the world was nothing more than an equation and, God forbid, if something went wrong within the equation.
Lucian realized that his habit of praying before bed returned only after Antonio came into power.
Had Lucian not have had the childhood he had, had he had been a less controlled man, he might have pointed out the glaring differences between the current Head of the Schiavone and the previous Head. Then he might have been killed for his insubordination.
However, Lucian knew when to shut-up and listen.
So that's what he did.
He kept his head down and did his job.
And then he met a scraggly, little child named Artem who possessed a smile that reminded him of a tiger stalking its prey and a mind as sharp as a knife and as fast as a computer and broken Flames that sung out a song of betrayal and Dissonance.
Lucian wanted to take that kid under his wing, yet something in Artem's green, green eyes told him that the kid had everything under control despite the dismal state his Flames were in. And Artem left after the job that had brought them together was finished.
They kept in touch though.
.
.
.
II.
Years later, Artem calls him up one day, out of the blue.
"Sooo…," the Kid begins in lieu of an actually greeting, "I met this interesting kid the other day. He was kinda cute in a non-threatening, kitten-like way."
"Ahaha! And what? You want me to take this Kid in like some kind of stray or something?"
"Aww~! Don't sound so hesitant, Lucy! You also enjoy the kiddies I send your way!"
"Yeah, because you have the uncanny ability to find geniuses in the middle of the slums!"
Lucian could practically hear the shrug Artem did. "Well, what can I say, Lucy. Geniuses are just attracted to me I guess!"
"Ha! That's the truth! … So, what's this Kid's name and poison?"
"Hayato Gokudera and Bombs."
That gave Lucian pause.
"… Isn't that the name of that supposed half-breed that's been going around trying to get into a Family?"
"The one and the same~!"
"You do know that Signore Schiavone is not going to be happy about bringing someone like that into the Family."
"Well then, it's a good thing that I'm currently with your boss and that he's agreed to taking in that 'half-breed'!"
And that got Lucian doubling over in laughter.
He could just picture it: straight-laced and serious Antonio trying in vain to dismiss the veritable hurricane that was Artem before finally succumbing to the Kid's endless stubbornness, energy, and silver-tongue.
"He's gonna show up at the mansion in three months. I'm positive that he'll do well under your tutelage, Lucy!"
