LXXI.

She opens her eyes to darkness.

Flowers.

She's surrounded by flowers. Dry petals brushing against her skin and pressing into her back. She's always liked flowers, but even with the sweet floral scent surrounding her, this darkness is overwhelming –and while she likes flowers, she doesn't like the cold, never has–

She touches something hard when she reaches up with her fingertips. Cold, smooth, hard.

… Stone?

Indigo flames circle around her as she sits up, melting through whatever is holding her here in the cold darkness with the dry flowers and–

Sunlight.

She automatically raises a hand to cover her eyes, blinking rapidly. The sudden transition from absolute darkness to blinding light is difficult to adjust to, and she squints when she catches sight of–

Gravestones?

She carefully surveys her surroundings.

A grassy, green field. Filled with stone slabs and grave markers and wilting bouquets.

Lambo. Purple Bazooka. Ten years in the future.

…

I'm dead?

Her lips tilt into a small frown at the unappealing prospect –but it wasn't as if she could deny it; solid, undeniable proof lay right in front of her eyes, and she'd be a fool to dismiss it as a trick of the light. But… what could kill her? She wasn't being arrogant with this question; it had taken Byakuran's heavy interference for Aconito to barely succeed in killing her the first time around, and now she wasn't even crippled by a debilitating illness anymore, so what…?

…

The cemetery was quiet, not a single soul in sight. She wasn't quite sure what to do at this point –and it wasn't like there was much she could do, anyways… only five minutes, and then she'd be gone.

…

Of course something has to go wrong.

LXXII.

"Captain, there's a strong ring signal coming from the northeast direction!"

"Alright, men. Head out!"

"Roger!"

…

…

…

Mist flames leaped into the sky.

LXXIII.

"Faust?"

"Bzzzt, nope. Try again."

A brief look of confusion flitted across the little girl's face –so much younger than what he always remembered seeing– and Fran looked away again, raising a hand and letting his Mist flames create another layer of illusions over her own, reinforcing it and projecting–

The dumb Millefiore soldiers ran straight into a wall, pelting it with an assortment of rainbow-colored attacks from their box weapons.

"For future reference, my name is Fran," he said blandly. Oh, the things he did… "And please don't call me by my uncle's name again. It's rude. And creepy. You did it the first time around, too."

"Sorry."

She certainly didn't sound very sorry, but he'd take what he could get at this point. The 'voi-ing' shark commander would kill him if he let her die on his watch, suddenly shrunken down and chibi-fied or no. And that was only if his pineapple Master didn't get to him first. Or the scowl-y Boss. Or the flaming peacock drag queen. Or the self-proclaimed prince. Or the perverted umbrella freak. Or the late Vongola Decimo's crazy Guardians.

… Okay, so letting her die was a Bad Idea, period. Yes, in Capital Letters. Sigh. Facepalm.

(Mentally, of course.)

…

… Why oh why oh why was he the one stuck patrolling this area again?

(Oh right, because he wanted to get away from the annoying fake prince. Like this current situation was any better.)

"That way! They're escaping! The ring signal is headed that way!"

… Ring signal?

Fran glanced down sharply at chibi-Stella –the exact same moment she looked down at her own hand, upon which the Vongola Mist Ring glittered innocently.

…

Suffice to say, things went downhill from there.

LXXIV.

"Shark-captain, look at what I found…"

Squalo had been more than ready to tear the mouthy brat a new one when he finally showed up again. Even though Fran was Faust's only nephew and the Varia's current Mist Guardian, that didn't mean he could do as he liked, whenever he liked –they were at war right now, the least the kid could do was at least be punctual and report on time–

And then his rage died, as quickly as it had flared up in the first place.

It took him several seconds to find his voice again.

Stella.

He very nearly tripped over the foot of his desk when he stood up, and it was only the presence of a small hand holding him at the elbow that prevented him from falling over and sending all his papers scattering onto the floor.

"Superbi?"

He couldn't help it.

His arms shot around her and crushed her against his chest –for a moment, he was uncaring of the strength he used– and then he could hear that small, startled gasp she let out, but he couldn't–

"Superbi? Are you alright?"

No, he wanted to laugh hysterically. No, no, and hell no. Did you really even need to ask? I fucking let you die again. You DIED, and I could've done something, anything–

Wisely, Fran had retreated from his Vice-Captain's office at this point.

"… The cow's bazooka?" He finally choked out through his throat. Uncaring of the weakness he was showing, because goddamnit this was his sister and–

"Yes, but," A slight hesitation. He sharply glanced down at her –so young, so small, so– "I… I think there's something wrong with it. Because it's definitely been more than five minutes by now. And…"

She held up the fucking Vongola Mist Ring in her hand, and his blood ran cold.

Astute as always, his sister frowned.

"I think I might be stuck here for awhile. So… What can you tell me about this world, Superbi?"

Oh gods, how he wanted to reach out and crush that ring…

"We're at war," he managed to bite out.

Stella. Stella. She was standing here, right in front of him, and–

"… Yes, I might've noticed that when I was attacked randomly by soldiers in the middle of nowhere." Her voice was dry, and he couldn't help but let out a sharp laugh at hearing it, because shit, this was his sister.

"They're called the Millefiore. Combination of the Gesso and Giglio Nero." His eyes refocused on his sister, watching for a reaction. Waiting for a reaction, because if the documents Alfredo had passed on to him were true, if what he suspected was true… "The Boss is called Byakuran."

There.

Her eyes had widened briefly, minutely, something flitting across darkening gray –something much more than simple recognition– before her expression immediately shuttered off, and Squalo had a sudden feeling of déjà vu since it was the exact same expression she'd worn when–

"I see." Clipped, short voice. Definitely something wrong. "Current situation?"

"Not good," he delivered the words bluntly, still studying her face. Still looking for any emotions that would slip through the cracks and let him know if his sister was up to something again, because he'd be damned if he let her run off by herself again. If he let her die again.

So.

"We've lost a lot of people," he folded his arms. Breathe. It's your sister. Stella, Stella, Stella. "CEDEF went completely silent after Iemitsu disappeared and his second-in-command, Res, went and got herself killed while getting the Rain Arcobaleno out of Millefiore hands. Fat load of good that did; fucking anti-Tri-ni-sette radiation killed the whole lot of them less than a week after that. Mammon included. CEDEF is pretty much in shambles now... and so is the main Vongola family, after that Sawada Tsunayoshi died. Assassinated at a peace negotiation, of all things. Their Cloud Guardian is still up and running that Foundation thing of his, but they don't have many members since the guy apparently hates crowding."

"… The Varia is basically the last fighting force, then?"

He nodded.

"Not good," she breathed, and he snorted.

"Tell me about it."

LXXV.

Levi spews his drink all across the table when he catches sight of a tiny raven-haired girl walking next to Squalo, when the upper Varia echelon gathers for dinner that night. Lussuria drops his plate and Bel's hands slip in the middle of cutting his steak. Fran is the only one in the group who carries on like everything is perfectly normal, though his eyes involuntarily flicker to the man sitting at the head of the table out of a healthy sense of self-preservation.

For Xanxus had stilled completely upon seeing the girl –and for a moment, the room is deathly silent.

…

She isn't quite sure why he suddenly stands up, clenching his jaw, barking a terse order for her brother to follow as he strides away. He's different –they're all different. A single glance, and she can already tell that the war in this world –this war with the Millefiore, with Byakuran– has not been kind to them.

War is never kind.

"The ten year bazooka malfunctioned," her soft voice finally breaks the hush that had befallen the room after the doors have slammed shut behind Xanxus, her brother trailing in his footsteps. "For the foreseeable future, I will be… imposing here until they manage to fix whatever is wrong with it, and I apologize for any inconveniences that my presence brings. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

She finishes her words with a small incline of her head, and–

"Mou, you don't have to be so polite with us!" Lussuria suddenly swoops down on the young little girl, mother-henning behavior abruptly turned to maximum settings. "Here, have some of the steak! We…"

…

But even though Lussuria is doing his best to help her settle in, fussy and cheerful, trying to make her comfortable amongst them, she can't help but… notice. The way they look at her, half-wistful, half-sad, even though they hide it well under callous words and careless jibes as they slowly return to their meals, putting up a wonderful mimicry of normalcy…

Why?

When Xanxus had abruptly left the room –turmoil and regret, mixing with pain, before he turned to Superbi and she could no longer read his eyes–

Why?

LXXVI.

"Why, Xanxus?"

Raw, unblemished pain. He could hear it in her voice, clear as day.

"You know why." Rough, short, to-the-point blunt. He had never been one to mince words, even though he knew well that now probably wasn't the best time to be so… "He asked. I agreed."

"You should've told me."

He growled, seized by a sudden bout of frustration, because, fuck –didn't she see?

"And what would you have done, if you went?" Sharp, biting tone. A flicker of resentment curled in her eyes, and he ruthlessly stomped down the spark of pain in his chest. At knowing he was the cause. "Nothing would've changed, Stella, and you would be dead as well."

"Maybe," her fingers tightened around each other before she forcibly relaxed them one by one. Regaining control over herself, reigning in her displeasure. "But you had no right to keep something like this from me. You can't–"

"I have the right to do whatever the hell I want," his voice cut across hers harshly. "Don't presume to hold power over me."

Silence.

… Shit.

He didn't– It wasn't–

"I see," this time, there was no inflection at all in her tone, and somehow that made her words hurt all the more. "I… apologize. It was not my intention to order you to do anything, Lord Xanxus."

"You're not–"

"I will be taking my leave now," she stood up from the seat, every bit as graceful as the cold Lady in distant memories. "Good-bye."

There was a note of finality ringing in her words, and then he felt it.

A spark of anger, of irritation.

"Sit. Down."

For a moment, the authority embedded in his voice stopped her in her tracks. Or perhaps it was because she heard something else in those two words? She had always been so very perceptive–

A glacial smile crept over her lips, hazel eyes cracked and glittering with frost.

"… Why should I? You hold no power over me."

She swept through the doors just as a bottle of wine smashed against the floor.

LXXVII.

A tired sigh.

The young man finally leaned back in his chair, stretching. Brown hair, brown eyes –in terms of looks, he was as simple in appearance as any passerby on the streets could be. Sometimes, he wondered why he didn't choose a normal civilian life. It would certainly be much easier than the life he was leading right now…

(… As if it wouldn't all be the same in the end.)

"Nakamura-sama, Irie-sama wishes to speak with you."

"Alright," the young man nodded curtly at the pink-haired woman standing behind him. "I'll save the data here and head over. He should still be in his rooms, right?"

"I believe so."

"Just a second, then."

And soon he is walking down the hallway, flanked by his Cervello aide, thoughts racing a mile a minute, because if Shouichi has chosen now to call him, then surely it means that–

A set of doors slide open, revealing a redhead looking up from the reports in his hand and smiling.

"Finally here, Sousei? I have… news, regarding the Vongola."

And so it begins.

LXXVIII.

"Reborn, what should we do?! You said we have to gather all the Guardians together for this attack on the Melone base, but Yuuto isn't here!"

"We'll just have to make do without him, then."

"Reborn!"

"Quiet, Dame-Tsuna. Or do you want me to ask Hibari to double your sparring sessions?"

"…"

"Thought so. Now… less talking, more training!"

"B-But aren't we already– Wait, no! Stop! Don't shoot that thing in here– HIEEEEEEE!"

LXXIX.

There is a star-filled lake, shrouded in Mist.

There is a boat, forever floating in the exact same spot.

There is also a girl. Silver-haired and pale-skinned and otherworldly-graceful as she walks the surface of the starlit waters without so much as a single ripple shivering underfoot.

She watches on wordlessly.

Stella Squalo.

Nakamura Setsuko.

The two are so very, very similar to each other, and yet so different at the same time. She would know.

(… More like she was the only one who would ever know.)

"I don't understand," she admits aloud. The words echo over the starry waters, brushing over gentle waves before fading into rolling mists. It feels nice –being able to admit to and show weakness, even if it's only in the privacy of her own mind. Stella had never done so. Stella had never allowed herself to show any signs of weakness. Stella had controlled herself with an iron grip on her feelings –even if those feelings had eventually run away from her in the end.

For how can you control fickle emotions?

Setsu embraced weakness. Because strength is brittle, and weakness breeds compassion.

(Stella has no need for compassion.)

"This world…" She kicks lightly at the waters with her bare feet, watching tiny crystal droplets fly away from her and land in a quiet splash. The restless waves return to stillness once more. "I'm scared. That's only normal, isn't it? After all, I'm… I'm dead here, aren't I?"

The word 'again' remained unsaid.

"It scares me," she repeated. Repetition was necessary. "This world, it scares me. Anything… anything that can put out the light in their eyes… scares me. I can see their sorrow, their rage, the darkness that lurks behind their eyes, no matter how well they try to hide it from me. But what can I do about it? My presence here… I can see it. To them, it is as much a curse as it is a blessing, for reasons I can't fathom."

A small pause.

"What am I to them?" A soft question, to which there was no response. "Superbi, I can understand, but… what am I to the rest of the Varia, for them to react this way? Or rather, should I say… who are you to them?"

The silver-haired girl finally lifted her face and looked directly into her eyes.

Hazel eyes against stormy gray.

"They call me Stella," her voice came out remarkably steady. "It's not a lie. I am Stella, to a certain degree. But you –you are truly Stella Squalo just as she was in life, are you not?"

The girl said nothing, and she sighed.

"Sometimes… sometimes, I wonder who Setsu is. Or if she even existed at all." A small pause. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Setsu's existence… ever since those dreams and voices came into her life, her existence had always been closely intertwined with that of Stella's. It's hard, trying to remember who she was like without your influence."

Stella remained silent.

"… Saa, why do I even bother anymore?" She shook her head and finally stood up in the boat, gathering tendrils of Mist around her as she prepared to leave the dark recesses of her mind. To return to reality. "You never answer anything I ask, anyways."

A small note of disappointment, one that was easily ignored by the silver-haired girl, just as it always was.

Then, impulsively, right before she faded:

"I don't suppose you could tell me who I am?"

…

…

…

The silver-haired girl watched the raven-haired one disappear from sight, and a single word slipped past pale, ashen lips.

Fake.

LXXX.

It's a little strange.

When Lussuria brought her to her room –her room; there was actually a room reserved for her here with the Varia– she had been surprised.

No, it wasn't the room itself that surprised her. The room was perfectly normal, and she could even see small signs of her living habits scattered all over the place –the pens on the wooden desk were all lined to the left, blanket corners folded in from force of habit, a jar of chamomile tea leaves sitting quietly on the bookshelf–

It wasn't the room that surprised her.

What surprised her was the fine layer of dust that had settled over everything in here.

… Then again, she was supposed to be dead, was she not? How long had she been dead for? Months? Years?

"Oh dear." She blinked, and suddenly the door was closed again. Looking up, she saw Lussuria gently wrap an arm around her as he steered her down the hallway again, backtracking in the direction from whence they came. "Sorry, I would've thought that they'd have enough sense to clean your room, what with your arrival here and all–"

"It's alright," she allowed herself to be easily directed towards the staircase, offering no token of resistance. "I can guess why no one would want to go into my room." Because I'm dead. "Superbi told them to stay away, then?"

"Actually…" there was a strange note of hesitation in Lussuria's voice as he trailed off, something entirely uncharacteristic of him.

Naturally, her curiosity was piqued –and so she looked up, batting wide gray eyes at him.

He didn't stand a chance.

"Squalo wasn't the one who gave out the orders. Someone else beat him to it." The flashy Sun Guardian looked around furtively, assuring that it was only the two of them in the immediate vicinity, before leaning down and whispering into her ear.

"Our dear Boss is the one who sealed off your room."

.

…

.

Author's Notes:

Super fast update. :3

So. Future arc! YES! :D Omg you guys have no idea how happy I am to finally get into the Future arc stuff, haha. Seriously, I think the Future arc in KHR is my favorite part of the entire storyline… oh do I have plaaaaans for this, yes I do. xD

Ahem. Anyways.

… I'm pretty surprised that so many people w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶o̶p̶t̶i̶m̶i̶s̶t̶i̶c̶ ̶e̶n̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ thought that Setsu/Stella was alive ten years later. xD Heh. Any ideas on how she possibly died? And what's wrong with Xanxus?

(Whistles innocently)

Pretty sure most people can guess what happened to Sousei in the future at this point. I might have another twist up my sleeve regarding him, though. We'll see. ;3 And yes, Setsu/Stella is in Italy with the Varia.

When I was writing the part where Fran was all like, "Hey, shark-captain, lookies what I found…" I was hit with this sudden mental image of 'Hey, look at what the cat dragged in…' xD Kind of matches Fran, right? I had a little bit of trouble writing from his POV there; hope it didn't feel too off.

QUESTION: Any guesses on Setsu/Stella's box animal? Suggestions?

Till next time then, everyone. :D The Future arc is going to be so fuuuuuun. xD –Insert evil cackling–

-XxZuiliu