LI.

This is insane.

That's the only thought running through Yuuto's mind when he watches Lussuria fall, struck from behind by a blow none of them saw coming. That none of them could even imagine coming (Although, a detached corner of his mind noticed –Setsu didn't seem too surprised. But her face had been blank and closed off ever since the match started, so it was hard to tell what she was thinking behind that expressionless mask of hers.).

A sudden blow dealt by the man's own comrades from behind his back, when he was on the verge of losing. By the merciless Varia, that he was a member of. By a monster who looked more machine than man –and all of those cold-blooded killers standing in line with him watched on with cruel, pitiless eyes as their Sun Guardian crumpled to the ground.

And there was so. Much. Blood.

Blood.

(Yuuto still remembered the image of a man looking down the barrel of his gun in confusion, before tightening his finger on the trigger and–)

Blood pooled under the man's body in copious amounts that couldn't be safe by any stretch –all he could see was more more more and red red red– and with all those bruises marring his skin and sluggishly bleeding wounds littered everywhere, Yuuto didn't know if he'd even be able to survive aft–

…

When Reborn had offered him the ring… he'd known. Maybe not directly, but he'd known. He'd known.

He'd known that by taking this ring, by accepting this responsibility, he would be expected to fight. That he'd be expected to fight against people just as strong as, if not stronger, than the long-haired Italian who'd effortlessly knocked down Yamamoto and Gokudera without so much as batting an eye, before turning putting him down almost as an afterthought.

He'd known that, expected that. Knew that he'd have to become much, much stronger if he even wanted a chance at winning. Because he'd even known that the long-haired man hadn't even been fighting seriously that time –hadn't been aiming to kill, only to intimidate when he'd struck out and–

And now the game was changed.

Now, it was one-on-one matches, where death was a perfectly acceptable outcome. Where Ryohei had just almost died, and the Varia Sun Guardian looked to be in the process of dying, his blood spilling everywhere–

Yuuto sucked in a shaky breath, trying to calm himself. It worked, somewhat.

He knew.

He knew he had the resolve to fight.

Yuuto had the resolve to fight, in order to protect his friends.

But this…

… Did he have the resolve for this? He had to resolve to fight, yes, but did he have the resolve to die?

…

Yuuto watched silently as Tsuna darted forward, anxiously hovering by Ryohei's side as the older boy finally lost consciousness, holding up the completed Sun Ring in victory. The young brunet's movement was quickly followed by Yamamoto and Gokudera, who flanked him on his left and right, as if it was completely natural for them to do so. He saw how the medics came and yet the trio still refused to leave the boxing captain –Gokudera was hiding it under a thin veneer of scorn as always, but Yuuto would have to be blind to not see the light of concern in his eyes.

And upon observing this, he couldn't help but wonder if Ryohei had known –and if he'd known; maybe, just maybe…

Maybe this was the reason why he'd stepped into that ring, fire burning in his eyes and shining with the brilliance of a thousand suns, fists raised and ready to die.

…

(… Or it could just be that the boxer hadn't given it any thought at all. He certainly wouldn't put it past his thick-headed senior to think like that –namely, to just do and not think about anything overly complicated while he was at it.)

(Yuuto sort of wished he could be like that, too.)

LII.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

LIII.

She breathed lightly, watching the thin puffs of air from her breath twist into the chilly air, lingering briefly as a small white cloud before dissipating into nothingness.

The woolen scarf softly nestled around her neck felt like it was choking her.

… Of course, that was nothing compared to the piercing golden gaze of the silver-haired man standing in front of her right now –and whether it was by fate or coincidence that they'd met on the early morning streets when there was hardly anyone else around, she'd never know.

Well.

"Walk with me?" A small smile surfaced on her lips, her head still tilted upward towards him. Superbi. "I'm heading to school now."

It was a monumental task for her to force herself to casually turn away and continue down the sidewalk as if there was nothing wrong, but the smile stayed on her lips when she felt more than saw him turn on his heel and follow, grumbling under his breath –yet catching up in a few quick strides as he slanted another sharp look at her.

"Tch, you're lucky that this farce of a battle is going on right now and we aren't allowed to attack outside of regulated battles."

She hummed lightly, agreeably.

"Ah, about that…" Voice trailing off, craning her head up towards him again –Superbi, Superbi, Superbi– and this time, there was a cracked edge to her smile. "I'm afraid I'm not Tsuna's Mist Guardian."

To his credit, there was no falter in his stride even as the scowl on his face deepened, gaining a darker edge as–

"Yes, Reborn asked me." She nimbly hopped over a small puddle, droplets of last night's rainwater flying up and splattering along the bottom edge of her jacket as her heels caught on the edge of the not-quite-frozen liquid. "I refused."

–his sword-hand fell limp and a light of incredulity crept into his eyes.

"… What the hell do you think you're playing at with this?" He abruptly reached out with his other hand, grabbing her shoulder and easily spinning her around to fully face him. "Voi, don't think you can trick me by–"

"I wouldn't trick you." The earnest words all but leapt out of her throat, at the accusation. True, it was an entirely reasonable accusation from his standpoint, but… "Not you, Superbi."

His grip on her shoulder tightened almost painfully.

"Stop that."

A low growl, forceful and menacing.

She brushed aside the dull ache in her heart and smiled at him.

"Stop what?"

He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, opening his mouth and–

LIV.

-and he watched, inwardly seething in rage, as Levi went and lost against a five year old baby.

… Granted, against a twenty years older version of the damn snotty brat, but the point still stands.

Levi lost against a fucking five year old.

(Varia quality, indeed.)

Squalo watched with sharp eyes as the twenty-five year old crouched down in front of the little gray-eyed girl –the one he ran into this morning. The Mist-user who… apparently wasn't the ridiculously harmless-looking runt's Mist Guardian.

His lips curved into a scowl. Because.

There was something… wrong about the girl, that much he knew for sure, even if he couldn't quite put a name to it. Intuition and instinct alone were tools he'd relied on many times before. But… no matter what she did next time, if she dared to call him by his given name again and smiled that soft little smile that was just like hers –then, this time, he definitely wouldn't hesitate to pull out his sword and just–

"It feels rather strange, seeing all of you so young again." The man murmured quietly, sparks of electricity still flickering over his horns. Horns. What kind of person attached horns to their head to use as a weapon? "How are you feeling, Setsu-nee? Or… have you already come to terms with everything now? Am I addressing St–"

A puff of garish pink smoke, and the afro-headed cow baby was back again, clinging tightly onto a bowl of cold dumplings made ten years in the future.

LV.

It's a little strange.

He arrived like a storm, like a tempest, like a veritable maelstrom of rage and resentment; an amalgamation of absolute ruthlessness and righteous fury –and for her, it was jarring. Jarring. Because she'd recognize those beautiful, beautiful flames anywhere, except they now burned not from confidence and self-assuredness, but from… from something strangely akin to… bitterness.

… Yes, bitterness. Bitterness, tinged with a hint of betrayal.

And wasn't it strange?

It had taken her several heartbeats to recognize him on sight, what with his face marred by an ugly scowl and jagged scars stretching everywhere over his skin –and yet, somehow, she'd instantly recognized those flames, long before she recognized his person.

Those beautiful, beautiful flames.

LVI.

"Please take care of my brother, Xanxus."

She bolts up in bed in the middle of the night, biting back a scream on the tip of her tongue, barely swallowing it back in time –hard enough to draw blood, though she hardly notices the pain– and she remembers; memories of holding a silver-haired teen in her arms for one last time, of visiting the Vongola External Advisor and passing on those documents, of encountering the Nono's youngest son as she left and–

She remembers those words exchanged with each of them.

She remembers disappointment and betrayal and the taste of ashes in her mouth.

She remembers twisting and bending and shattering reality.

She remembers a white-haired man with a cruel, cruel smile–

And.

She remembers dying.

Losing consciousness.

Losing her grasp on this world.

Losing hold of the Mist that anchored her to reality, to a façade called life.

…

And she remembers waking up again.

LVII.

Setsu had always dreamed of blood, of horror, of unspeakable acts that any normal person would learn to fear and cower away from. And for a long, long time; no matter how realistic or vivid those dreams of hers became, they remained just that –dreams. Dreams. Nothing but simple dreams; reality by night and nothingness by day. Nightmares, yes, but they remained only dreams.

An illusion, a fantasy; something that didn't truly exist in this world Setsu knows.

But she knows better.

Nightmares they may be, but she isn't as naïve as to think that they're only simple dreams, simple nightmares. Setsu's so-called dreams are much, much more than that –much more than those mere horrors born of the darkness of the human mind, they're memories.

Memories of days as a silver-haired girl called Stella Squalo.

…

Question is… does this make her Setsu, dreaming of being Stella? Or is she Stella, dreaming of being Setsu?

What's the difference, if there is any?

…

…

…

"Is there something wrong, Setsu?"

She automatically smiles.

"No, Mother. Nothing's wrong."

The woman looks upon her in concern, pursing her lips and crossing her arms, "Are you sure? You've been acting a little… different, recently. Are you sure there's nothing wrong? Nothing bothering you?"

She shakes her head and keeps on smiling.

LVIII.

Gokudera loses.

It's not his fault.

"S-Sorry, Juudaime… I… I guess I just… wanted to see the fireworks again with everyone…"

A nasty, rattling cough. Tsuna rushes forward to support his friend, followed by the rest of the group in less than a heartbeat. Romario steps forward to take care of Gokudera's injuries.

Her ears still ring with Tsuna's words.

Fireworks.

… She remembers the fireworks. Of course she does. How can she forget? How can she forget those brilliant bursts of colorful lights splattering against the backdrop of a starry night sky? But more than the fireworks themselves, she remembers sitting together with all of them on that thin blanket on the grass –laughing and chattering away, something so light and warm surfacing in her chest–

A quick, fleeting sensation.

Because she remembered days when it was so much more, and though this was similar and she knew they cared, it just wasn't the same.

But, she reasoned… In a way, it was to be expected, wasn't it? She was accepted into their fold, but she didn't fit, not quite. Not exactly. Not like the rest of them did. Maybe once, if only barely, but… not anymore. Not quite. Even if they themselves had yet to notice the change.

She openly admitted to herself that Tsuna had pretty flames, and he would make a wonderful Sky –open and accepting of all. But. But. There was also no doubt in her mind that he fit best with people like Gokudera and Yamamoto and Lambo and Ryohei. And even Yuuto. Even Hibari.

Because he was kind and compassionate and gentle. And there was a part of her that admired him for it –just as much as another part of her scoffed quietly and shook her head in silence at what she saw.

Because she knew, the same way she had always known.

Sawada Tsunayoshi would never be able to become a mafia boss.

He wouldn't.

Where ruthlessness was required, he would show mercy. Where trickery was required, he would show honesty. Where an immovable, unshakeable, iron-fisted stance was required on a certain subject –he would show a willingness for compromise. And that was weakness weakness weakness.

Sawada Tsunayoshi was an admirable person and a wonderful sky, but he wasn't fit to be a mafia boss.

Xanxus, on the other hand.

She had no doubts about Xanxus's capability to lead a mafia famiglia –a Famiglia whose legacy was built on an empire forged from corpses and bloodshed. Of lies and deceit. It was the world he knew –the world she knew– and it was also a world that the kind-hearted Tsuna would never be able to accept, be able to allow himself to become part of.

She admired him for it, a little.

And just as a part of her admired him for it, another part of her wondered what the Nono was playing at by appointing Tsuna as his successor. It was a no-brainer that if Tsuna really became Vongola Decimo, then that would just be the recipe for a disaster of the highest order waiting to happen.

Because if he really wanted to take over the sins of Vongola–

Because if he really wanted to drown himself in their tainted world–

Because if he really wanted to become a mafia boss–

Because she knew that if it was her in his place tonight, she would not have ordered Gokudera to think of his own safety and retreat, not without first securing possession of the Storm Ring.

And idly, she wondered what kind of person that decision made her… and if they would hate her for it, if they knew about it.

…

But if it were Faust or Alfredo, or even Superbi who was fighting for you in that scenario –would you still be able to make a decision like that in cold blood?

… No.

But.

But she knew that if it was Tsuna, if Tsuna was the one making the decisions and calling the shots, then he wouldn't allow anyone to die on his account; not if he could help it.

… Would it really be such a bad thing?

Maybe.

LIX.

Squalo quickly ducked under another half-filled wine glass mere seconds before it made contact with his head, not that it helped him any. He received an entire bottle crashing down on him the moment the wine glass shattered into pieces against the carpeted ground.

"VOI! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"Trash," Xanxus sneered. Squalo spared a brief moment to wonder when it was –the last time he saw his Boss in any mood other than the perpetual, boiling, frothing rage–

… Then again, if he'd been the one frozen in ice for six years –six fucking years; what the hell the old Nono was thinking with that move, he would never know– Squalo conceded that he'd probably be a little pissed, too.

Okay, more than a little pissed. Pretty pissed off.

…

… Scratch that, make that very pissed off.

"If you don't win your match tomorrow," Xanxus narrowed his eyes at him threateningly –and really, when had been the last time he'd looked at anyone with something else in his eyes, ever since his sister had– "I will personally gut you."

Squalo easily shook off the heat of the threat and smirked at him.

"Like hell I'd lose, shitty Boss."

Predictably, he got another glass of wine to the head for his efforts. This time, Squalo didn't even bother dodging and just let it hit him –better than getting an entire bottle of the stuff to his head again.

LX.

"Okay, on the count of three! One… two… three! Yamamoto, FIGHT!"

As always, Ryohei's voice rang the loudest in their customary cheer. And they were certainly in a good mood right now –currently, they were in possession of two of the seven rings, while the Varia was only in possession of one. It was an accomplishment to be proud of, and an advantage they would want to keep.

Superbi was fighting tonight.

Superbi.

She watched silently as Yamamoto smiled cheerily at them and tossed one final wave over his shoulder, before turning heel and heading down, down, down–

Down towards the darkness.

Towards the darkness of the water-filled chambers where her silver-haired brother was waiting.

.

…

.

Author's Notes:

The poll is now closed. :3 Thank you to everyone who voted! We'll finish up the Varia arc in the next chapter. Hopefully.

Little off topic, but there's a new pairing poll on my profile now –one for Onwards Till Dawn. Go vote, if you're interested? :D 'No pairing' is an option this time, so please don't start sending me complaints about how I'm "ruining" that story by introducing the idea of a pairing for Tsubaki. Zuiyun agreed with me to put up the poll and it's our story; we get the final say in what happens 'cuz we're the authors for that xD (Polaris and Canopus are my own :3). Besides, it's not 100% guaranteed that we'll even add a pairing anyways, based on the results we receive…

So, back to Canopus. :)

Yes, I stated here that Xanxus was frozen for six years, not eight. Different from the manga there, I think? So consider this little tidbit AU, I guess.

As of the moment, we're done with Ryohei, Lambo, Gokudera, and leaving off on Yamamoto. Next will be finishing off Yamamoto's battle, moving onto Yuuto's, Hibari's, and Tsuna's, before we (hopefully) tie everything up and get into the Future arc. Actually, Tsuna's battle might not fit entirely in the next chapter, so it's possible that it'll end up cutting into the chapter after that, but… well, let's just hope we can get things done soon, shall we? :D

QUESTION: What do you look forward to seeing most in the Future arc?

Keep an eye out for mistakes in the text, please. And don't forget to drop a review to let me know what you think! :) Till next time, everyone. :3

-XxZuiliu