Greetings, readers:
Thank you for reading this fan-made work...
"I hope you enjoy today's chapter." I, Wissumi Wizaki, wish you a happy reading
...
1046 B.N. – August 14
In the tense silence of the meeting room of the Vongola mansion, Giotto observed the map spread out before him, while his fingers moved decisively over the routes Prince Yaskar would take on his return to the Land of Fire. The candles flickered, casting shadows that seemed to dance across the scrolls, but Giotto remained undistracted.
—Ugetsu —Giotto said—, you will be the second leader of the escort. Your clarity will be key to protecting Prince Yaskar. Knuckle will be your immediate support —he nodded as the Sun Guardian positioned himself beside him—. Haru will go with you; his speed will be essential.
Ugetsu inclined his head:
—Yes, Primo. Haru and I will protect the prince at all times.
Giotto turned toward the door, where he heard hurried footsteps. Daiki and Sana entered. Sana held a technical scroll; Daiki, a wooden tablet covered in notes.
—These are the planned routes —Sana said, unfolding the map—. Crossing the Meru River, nine intermediate shelters, and three windy passes: Korin Gorge, Whispering Forest, and Poets' Hill.
Ugetsu looked at the map and spoke:
—Giotto, the main route is far too obvious —Ugetsu commented, without losing his noble calm—. The paths that cross the Lomo River valley are narrow, but that is where they will inevitably pass.
Giotto nodded without raising his gaze. His mind went beyond the maps, perceiving something that his instincts would not allow him to ignore.
—I can't shake the feeling —he murmured—. Something doesn't fit with this escort. We must anticipate not only direct attacks, but also disadvantageous and stealthy ambushes.
Knuckle, from his position, could feel Primo's thoughts as if he shared his tension.
—Don't worry, Primo. I can heal minor wounds along the way. Nothing serious will happen while I'm there with the Lord's fists.
G, with his arms crossed and a crooked smile, added:
—Rain and Sun… together they will be a wall. But this time, I feel I should go defend the rear.
Reijiro entered the room with firm steps. Although he was older than Giotto, his face showed the maturity acquired through years of training as the head of the third hierarchy in the organization.
—I have already organized everything for his departure, and we will be under G's orders in case anything happens —he said—. Sana, Takeshi, Daiki, Reijiro, and G will remain to protect the base and maintain order. We cannot allow Lomo to be left defenseless.
Sana, firm and direct, nodded:
—The bank and the mint require constant surveillance. It is our home and will always need care.
Takeshi, proud, expressed:
—I understand, boss. We won't let anyone disturb the peace we have achieved.
Reijiro, shy but determined, added:
—I will continue working for the organization, boss. When you return from the trip, your home will be running.
Daiki smiled.
—I will support Sana so she doesn't drown in paperwork.
Giotto looked at Haru, the youngest of the group, who was eager to join the escort, but calm as the rain due to Ugetsu's intense training.
—This could be your most important mission so far, Haru —he ordered—. You won't be just an observer. This journey is crucial. If anything happens, support Ugetsu.
Haru nodded enthusiastically. His eyes shone with determination.
The silence was charged with solemnity. Each young person understood the importance of the mission: maintaining peace and preventing Vongola influence from weakening before the nobles of the Land of Fire.
…
The night before the journey…
Giotto gathered Ugetsu and Knuckle to finalize the details.
—Ugetsu, you will be Yaskar's guardian. Be careful not to share any information that could expose us in the future. Keep the use of the Dying Will Flames hidden —that goes for you too, Knuckle. I want our powers to remain rumors and fantasies to foreign kings so that they don't become crazy legends like G —he said—. I need you to watch Yaskar's every move. Knuckle, keep your eyes on every shadow.
Knuckle nodded firmly, but his eyes held pure determination.
Giotto remained silent. Finally, he said:
—I will set the pace and remain calm. The prince must feel that his safety is a certainty, and my presence will ensure that it is not an illusion.
Knuckle, in a serious voice, added:
—I will keep my flames hidden, and if a fight occurs, I will keep my healing abilities hidden and protect as many as I can if battle comes.
Ugetsu looked into the void.
—Then… we are not only protecting a man, but the hope of Lomo and our future as Vongola.
…
Six days earlier…
In a hidden cave near the border of the Land of Lomo, Masanobu and the men who obeyed him gathered alongside Kaien's men, forming a small army.
A rustic table held a single candlestick, its flickering flame casting harsh shadows over faces hardened by a life lived on the fringes of the law.
In a small chamber, illuminated only by an oil lamp, several hooded figures stood silently before Kaien (45). Kaien had a gaunt face, a cold gaze, and a voice as rough as stone. Beside him stood Masanobu (38), calm and elegant, with a cane concealing a precise blade.
—Three diplomatic meetings have been held with Prince Yaskar. That meeting was part of my behind-the-scenes plan —Kaien purred, his voice echoing through the gloom—. In six days, the prince will return to the Land of Fire. That will be the perfect moment. We will attack his reputation and shake the Vongola's influence so that he has conflicts with the Land of Fire.
Masanobu raised a scroll with surgical precision.
—The gorges he will pass through are already prepared —he said slowly—. Group A will block the routes and activate the traps. Group B will lead the direct attack and then withdraw. Group C will infiltrate the escort. And, finally, Group D will seal the escape routes, neutralizing any possible reinforcements.
1047 B.N. – August 24
Forest between the border mountains near the Land of Fire
The rain had just struck with exhausted fury.
The world was wrapped in one of those storms that rarely visit the region: the skies vomited lightning, black clouds thundered as if some ancestral drum marked the end of an era.
And in the middle of that ancient electric chaos, Giotto stood there, feet buried in the mud, body still trembling from the strain of running in Dying Will Mode. His clothes were gone; only his mawashi (belt or loincloth) remained.
His chest rose and fell in a slightly uneven rhythm—only from exhaustion.
Then… the light.
A flash brighter than any other tore the sky apart.
And there he was.
Lampow, in Giotto's arms…
—"Why am I a kid again, Primo?! I'm a brat! This is humiliating!" —yelled the newly summoned Lampow, his high-pitched voice echoing even louder than the thunder.
The air crackled around him like static energy, angry, with lightning bouncing around him like war drums.
Giotto, still recovering, gave a faint smile and lowered Lampow to the ground. Despite everything… he felt familiar.
—You're still the same… even in another world. When are you going to grow up, Lampow?
—Never! I don't want to! There's mud everywhere, it's cold, and you summoned me in the middle of a horrible storm!
Giotto sighed. He was exactly as he remembered: the same spoiled child, the same stubborn spirit who barely understood his own worth… but who, when it mattered, protected with overwhelming force. And now he was here.
—Thanks for coming —Giotto said, his voice calm once more—. Now let's get back to where I was before.
Lampow crossed his arms, frowning. But something in his eyes shifted.
—Back? Back where?
Giotto looked down, the mud splashing at his feet as he moved.
—Back to my mission. I was escorting an important prince… from a country. I left him in Ugetsu and Knuckle's hands, but…
His eyes narrowed. Something tugged at the back of his mind, an echo of warning, an old fear that slipped through the circumstances, like a tremor in his Vongola instincts.
—I saw something strange while I was coming. In the forest. A figure. It looked like a monkey… but its presence felt human. Its eyes were locked on me as if it knew me. It's not a normal monkey. Something's about to happen. My instinct screamed that something is wrong.
Lampow watched him in silence for a moment… then puffed up his cheeks like a five-year-old who'd just had his dessert stolen.
—I don't want to run! I'm tired! I'm hungry, I'm sleepy, and I hate running with these tiny feet! And you summoned me right when I was in the middle of a centuries-long nap in the afterlife! It's not fair! I'm Lampow the handsome! I'm nobody's pack mule, Primo!
Giotto clenched his fists.
Time was vital.
Every second spent away from the escort could mean a death, an attack, a political disaster. But Lampow wouldn't respond to shouting. He knew him too well. He had to appeal to the one thing that moved Lampow beyond his ego: affection.
With a firm motion, Giotto slapped his own face and took a deep breath. Despite being only eight years old, his voice resonated with the maturity of someone who had once babysat this being in another life, commanded armies, forged nations, and buried his enemies with tears in his eyes.
And then, in a moment suspended in time, Giotto remembered.
...
[Flashback]
The wind from Mount Fuji blew cold, like invisible blades brushing the rice fields at the edge of the village. The cherry trees, stripped of their flowers, swayed their bare branches like ghosts dancing in the twilight. It was the prelude to a long, cruel, and merciless winter. But the small group camped at the forest's edge barely felt the cold. Giotto, then a teenager with eyes shining with determination, was accompanied by a small boy with intense green hair, covered in rune-like tattoos of flames and lightning, whose temper rivaled his tiny size.
Lampow, who didn't look a day over fourteen —though his real age defied any calendar— was perched among the bamboo trees, chewing on a twig with feigned indifference.
"Lampow! Get down from that tree! Ugetsu's going to think I'm raising wild animals!" Giotto shouted, half laughing, half exasperated.
"I am the invincible steel bull, Lampow the Great! This tree shall be my castle, and you—my second servant!"
Giotto sighed, placing his forehead in his palm.
"Why number two?"
Lampow pointed toward the sky with his improvised horns.
"Because number one is me. Obviously."
A grunt exploded near the fire. G was complaining with a fury impossible to ignore: how arrogant the newcomer was. The temperamental Vongola Storm, with a serious face and a tattoo on his cheek, had been thinking through a plan in silence, but Lampow always managed to knock him off balance.
"You have to admit it, Giotto," G grumbled. "That kid you rescued from a rich family is more annoying than any of your recruits."
"He has will," Giotto replied with a sigh, looking up at the sky. "But also an absurd amount of pride, hunger, and tantrums."
"I heard that!" Lampow squealed, offended, jumping from the tree in a clumsy fall caused by the weight of his armor, landing face-first into the dirt.
"And zero grace," G added, going back to his plan. His crimson eyes gleamed in the firelight. "Why do you keep him around, again and again? He's more noise than thunder."
Lampow got up, spitting out a leaf. Puffing his cheeks like a pufferfish, he stormed over to G, brandishing his makeshift horns like he could split the earth.
"Don't underestimate me, G! I'll learn from the lightning and become so strong that if I get mad, I'll turn you into a chicken!"
Ugetsu sighed, but nodded, resigned: —All right… but come back! —I will —Giotto promised—. Keep an eye on Yaskar. Now I'm one hundred percent sure something will happen in my absence.
Without saying another word, he ran in the opposite direction and quickly disappeared into the forest. Thus, Giotto, determined to go… left Ugetsu in charge of the prince's escort and ran directly toward the electrical storm.
Giotto felt the wind striking his face. Each stride trembled between excitement and awareness of his actions: his nine-year-old body, flawless, but vulnerable. He accelerated; the air became cold and damp.
He felt someone watching him from the corner of his eye. He saw it. A monkey-shaped figure, leaning against a tree with a powerful aura, caught his attention: golden fur, alert eyes, and his same height, although slightly taller. A premonition flared up… but Giotto ignored the distraction and continued moving forward. For now, summoning Lampo was more important.
He moved even farther away from the escort, venturing deep into the forest. He dodged fallen trunks from old accidents. The sky darkened until it took on a deep gray hue, a sign of a storm. The gusts of wind and the smell of ozone intensified.
With every branch he pushed through, he repeated to himself:
Just a minute and a half… if I fail, I'll be without the Lightning for the entire year…
His chest tightened, but he decided to persist.
In the distance, the storm roared. Giotto stopped and concentrated. He activated his Last Will Mode at fifty percent with determination: his shirt tore. A Sky Flame emerged from his forehead, and his hair stood on end. His face was fierce and focused. His body moved forward, but most of his aura was concentrated in his feet to give him greater speed while running.
The wind increased abruptly. The blades of grass lit up with the electricity coursing through them. The shape of the lightning became tangible. Giotto ran faster than ever, breaking branches blindly, while a vibrant tingling sensation ran through his fingers.
—I'll catch up to the storm! —he roared again, transformed.
The lightning began to strike toward the west. Giotto plunged into a torrent of flashes. The rain struck his skin, but barely reduced his speed. The thunder was deafening; his heartbeat seemed to overpower its roar.
At the epicenter: a glowing eye of wind and lightning.
Giotto moved forward and, suddenly, felt himself being dragged toward the descending current of electricity.
A Lightning Seed —pale green and spinning— appeared above his forehead. The seed floated and floated, forming a bridge between the sky and the earth, just as the Storm and Rain Seeds had done before. The seed absorbed the dark clouds that roared with thunder and lit up with lightning. The storm and the Guardian fused together.
The rain had just struck with exhausted fury.
The world was enveloped in one of those storms that rarely visited the region: the skies vomited lightning, the black clouds thundered as if some ancient drum were marking the end of an era.
And in the midst of that ancient electrical chaos, Giotto remained there, his feet sunk into the mud and his body still trembling from the effort of running in Last Will Mode. His clothes had disappeared; only his mawashi (belt or loincloth) remained.
His chest rose and fell with a slightly irregular rhythm, solely from exhaustion.
Then… the light.
A flash brighter than any other tore across the sky.
The seed grew in size, devouring all the lightning until none remained. The seed took shape, but it was smaller than Giotto himself. It shot toward him.
A figure flew into his arms and clung to him. The sky shattered into dazzling flashes of light.
It was Lampo —Lampow, the youngest of the Guardians. As Giotto remembered, Lampo's hair during his childhood was a notable medium-length, light-green afro. Without a defined style, his bangs parted near the center of his nose, framing his eyes.
This partially concealed his eyebrows. His electric-blue eyes —often with his right one closed— stood out. Beneath his right eye was a small black lightning-bolt symbol.
Lampo opened his eyes and said:
—I missed you, Primo…
Upon hearing his voice, Giotto felt a wave of emotion and nostalgia at meeting his little Guardian again. Until he displayed his irritating personality.
—Why am I a child again, Primo?! I'm a brat again! This is humiliating! —the newly summoned Lampow shouted, his high-pitched voice echoing even louder than the thunder.
The air crackled around him like static energy, furious, with lightning bouncing around him like drums of war.
Giotto, still recovering, managed a faint smile and lowered Lampow to the ground. Despite everything… he felt familiar.
—You're still the same… even in another world. When are you going to grow up, Lampow?
—Never! I don't want to! There's mud everywhere and I'm small again, it's cold, and you summoned me in the middle of a horrible storm!
Giotto sighed. He was exactly as he remembered him: the same spoiled child, the same stubborn spirit who barely understood his own worth… but who, when it mattered, protected others with overwhelming strength. And now he was here.
—Thank you for coming —Giotto said, his voice calm once again—. Now let's return to where I was before.
Lampow crossed his arms, frowning. But something changed in his eyes.
—Return? Return where?
Giotto lowered his gaze as the mud splashed against his feet when he moved.
—Back to my mission. I was escorting an important prince… from a country. I left him in Ugetsu and Knuckle's hands, but…
His eyes narrowed. Something tugged at the back of his mind, an echo of warning, an old fear that seeped through the circumstances, like a tremor in his Vongola instincts.
—I saw something strange on my way here. In the forest. A figure. It looked like a monkey… but its presence felt human. Its eyes were fixed on me as if it knew me. It's not a normal monkey. Something is about to happen. My instincts were screaming that something was wrong.
Lampow watched him silently for a moment… then puffed out his cheeks like a spoiled child who had just been denied his favorite dessert.
—I don't want to run! I'm tired! I'm hungry, sleepy, and I hate running with these tiny feet! And you summoned me right when I was in the middle of a centuries-long nap in the afterlife! It's not fair! I'm handsome Lampow! I'm nobody's pack mule, Primo!
Giotto clenched his fists.
Time was vital.
Every second spent away from the escort could mean a death, an attack, a political disaster. But Lampow would not respond to shouting. He knew him far too well. He had to appeal to the only thing that could move Lampow beyond his ego: affection.
With a firm movement, Giotto slapped himself and took a deep breath. Despite being only nine years old, his voice resonated with the maturity of someone who had once cared for that being in another life, commanded armies, forged nations, and buried his enemies with tears in his eyes.
And then, in a moment suspended in time, Giotto remembered.
...
[Flashback]
The wind from Mount Fuji blew cold, like invisible blades brushing against the rice fields on the outskirts of the village. The cherry trees, stripped of their flowers, shook their bare branches like ghosts dancing at dusk. It was the prelude to a long, cruel, and merciless winter. But the small group camped at the edge of the forest barely felt the cold. Giotto, then a teenager with eyes shining with determination, was accompanied by a small boy with intense green hair, covered in tattoos resembling runes of flames and lightning, whose temperament rivaled his tiny size.
Lampow, who did not appear to be more than fourteen years old —although his true age defied any calendar—, was perched among the bamboo, nibbling on a twig with feigned indifference.
—Lampow! Get down from that tree! Ugetsu is going to think I'm raising wild animals! —Giotto shouted, laughing in exasperation.
—I am the invincible steel bull, Lampow the Great! This tree will be my castle, and you… my second servant!
Giotto sighed, placing his forehead in the palm of his hand.
—Why number two?
Lampow pointed toward the sky with his improvised horns.
—Because number one is me. Obviously.
A growl erupted near the fire. G complained with an anger impossible to ignore about how arrogant the newcomer was. The hot-tempered Vongola Storm Guardian, with a serious face and a tattoo on his cheek, had been silently thinking over a plan, but Lampow always managed to drive him crazy.
—You have to admit it, Giotto —G grumbled—. That kid you rescued from a wealthy family is more annoying than any of your recruits.
—He has willpower —Giotto replied with a sigh, looking toward the sky—. But also an absurd amount of pride, hunger, and tantrums.
—I heard you! —Lampow shrieked, offended, jumping from the tree in a clumsy fall caused by the weight of his armor, landing face-first on the ground.
—And zero gratitude —G added, returning to his plan. His crimson eyes gleamed in the firelight—. Why do you keep him around, time and time again? He makes more noise than thunder.
Lampow got up, spitting out a leaf. Puffing out his cheeks like a pufferfish, he angrily approached G, brandishing his improvised horns as if he could split the earth.
—Don't underestimate me, G! I'll learn from the lightning and become so strong that, if I get angry, I'll turn you into a roasted chicken!
G stared at him.
Cold.
Silent.
—Do it. If you've got the guts.
Lampow raised his hand… but immediately burst into tears and ran straight into Giotto's arms.
—Primo! G is giving me an ugly look! He's mean and has an evil face!
—You're right about one thing —G muttered without looking up—. I am mean. Just not enough to discipline you.
From one corner, the Cloud Guardian laughed even louder, and Giotto could not help but smile.
Lampow's green, curly hair stuck out from beneath his improvised helmet, clumsily engraved with a lightning symbol. Beside him, Giotto —around twenty-three years old— gazed at the village illuminated by paper lanterns and the faint glow of the campfire.
—Lampow? —the Cloud Guardian asked without looking at him—. Are you still wearing that ridiculous helmet?
Lampow puffed out his cheeks.
—It's not ridiculous! It's the mark of the future Great General Lampow! Enemies tremble when they see this helmet!
—Of course… or they fear for the pain —Giotto chuckled—. What's trembling is your neck from carrying something so heavy.
Lampow frowned and kicked a stone.
—Cruel Primo! You don't understand defensive fashion!
Giotto looked at him tenderly. Lampow was physically a child, yes, but his soul had endured more battles than anyone should have to endure. He had watched his friends grow, mature, and even die… while he remained trapped in an eternal cycle of childhood.
And yet… he never gave up.
At that moment, Knuckle's laughter echoed in the distance. The amateur boxer approached carrying a large wooden crate on his shoulders. His white bandages, poorly tied, fluttered in the wind as he walked barefoot among the fallen leaves. Two years older than Giotto, he was a man of principles and strength, with a straight back and the serene smile of someone at peace with his own power.
—I brought freshly baked bread —he announced—. I traded for it with some traveling monks along the way.
—Bread?! With cinnamon?! —Lampow jumped, his eyes shining.
Knuckle laughed heartily.
—Of course. But first, thank Ugetsu. He shared his noble tea with them to convince them.
Just then, Ugetsu appeared —elegant as always—, with his sheathed sword at his side, some knives in the other hand, and a serene expression. His graceful silhouette moved as if every step were part of an invisible dance.
—You didn't have to mention it, Knuckle-san —he said with a subtle, modest smile—. What matters is that we can all have dinner in peace tonight under the stars.
—Ugetsu is the best! —Lampow shouted, hugging the bread with both hands—. After me, of course!
Everyone laughed.
In the middle of the conversation, a distant whistle echoed. Spade, the Mist Guardian, arrived along the stone path, his black coat fluttering in the cloudy night wind. His spear rested on his shoulder, his cunning eyes...
—Another secret meeting without me? How rude —Spade muttered.
—You always show up when everything is over —Giotto scolded him—. Did you go train alone again?
Spade shrugged.
—Enemies never rest, Giotto. And neither should you.
Lampow, chewing his bread, spoke with his mouth full:
—Of course Giotto works hard! He lets me sleep on his cloak! And when I'm sick, he makes me soup!
Spade shot him a sidelong glance.
—When are you going to grow up, dressed like a cow now, shrimp? Do you plan on keeping that mindset forever?
Lampow exploded:
—It's not a cow costume, it's an indestructible bull armor!
For a moment… silence fell as they remembered that they were on a mission.
Lampow lowered his gaze. The bread froze between his hands. The flame of laughter went out for a brief moment.
Giotto noticed. He stepped forward and knelt down to his height.
—Lampow… you matter just as you are. You don't need to grow up to be brave. I remember when you stopped two enemy families by yourself during that storm in Tokyo.
Lampow raised his gaze, his eyes slightly teary.
—But… all of you are adults. You talk like adults. You fight like generals. I… I keep tripping and running away when I get hurt. Maybe I won't be ready to go to Italy.
Knuckle knelt beside him and offered him a kind smile.
—You know, when I was your age, I was weak. I used to hide behind the trees. But you… you come out of a storm like a lightning bolt. That's not something just anyone can do.
Ugetsu sat down on the other side, unrolling a small musical scroll.
—Your spirit is greater than your body, Lampow. That is enough.
G remained standing, watching them all, until —after a sigh— he pulled a small box from his belt: a candy wrapped in black paper.
—Here, ox boy. My mother left this when I left. I never ate it. But perhaps you, brat, will appreciate it more.
Lampow's eyes widened.
—Is G giving me candy? Are you sick?
Everyone laughed again.
The night went on.
Beneath the shade of the cherry trees, surrounded by laughter, bread, and fire, Lampow felt… just like them. Perhaps his body was that of a child. Perhaps his soul was trapped in that cycle of lightning and tantrums.
But that night, with his heart warm and beating strongly, he knew that he had a family that accepted him. That saw him.
And that… that was enough.
Giotto placed a hand on his head.
—No matter how many years pass, Lampow. You will always be one of us. Always.
Lampow nodded, hiding his tears as he chewed his bread.
And the fire continued to burn.
—Giotto —Knuckle said seriously—, it seems enemies are approaching. We'll have to fight.
Giotto nodded.
—Everyone, get ready.
—Lampow, do you really think you can fight alongside us? —Giotto asked evaluatively with a confident smile, observing the boy in his improvised armor. On his chest was a drawing of a bull with mysterious inscriptions.
—Of course I can, Giotto! —Lampow replied, puffing out his cheeks and crossing his arms—. Because I'm the strongest, the handsomest, and the most feared by enemies. No one will break my defense!
Giotto laughed as he watched the campfire crackle among the stones. That night, as the stars rose above them, he knew that he had found not only another battle companion, but also a soul capable of enduring any challenge.
—No matter where we are —Giotto said—, I will always fight by your side, Lampow. And I will always protect you, even if you are an unbearable brat.
—That's right, but not the brat part! —Lampow shouted—. Because together we are invincible!
All the young men looked at him, sealing a silent promise that neither time nor distance could break.
Lampow pressed his fist against his chest. He still did not understand everything… but for Giotto, he would fight like a bull. Even if he was afraid.
End of flashback
…
Upon emerging from the nostalgic memories of the past in that world, Giotto smiled warmly as he looked at that child who was part of his family.
—All right. Get on my back.
Lampow blinked.
—Huh?
—Get on —Giotto repeated, crouching down and exposing his shoulders—. I'll carry you. But we have to leave now, Lampow.
There was a silence. The little electric child hesitated for a second… until his expression transformed into an excited smile, with his tongue sticking slightly out from the corner of his mouth.
—Primo, you're the best! I'll ride on you like lightning rides on the clouds! Let's go, Primo Express!
Giotto said nothing. The Sky Flame was already burning on his forehead.
The mud beneath his feet trembled as he channeled the rest of his energy. His body was not eternal, but, with a clear objective, his endurance stretched further. And now he had one: to bring Lampow back safe and sound.
With the little lightning bolt on his back, Giotto moved forward.
First, at a trot.
Then, with long strides.
And finally, disappearing among the fog and trees like a gust, at a speed slightly slower than before.
The thunder still echoed through the sky when Lampow raised his voice above the wind:
—Primo! Why are you so worried? Aren't Ugetsu and Knuckle as strong as you are in this new world?
Giotto answered without slowing down.
—They are strong. But I am not invincible. And neither are they. We barely know anything about this world, so we can't afford to underestimate anything. We don't have time to waste.
Lampow lowered his head for a moment. Then he murmured:
—...If you want, when we get back, I'll help you scare those enemies.
For the first time during the run, Giotto smiled sincerely.
—Thank you, Lampow.
… Before Lampow's Summoning
Clinging to a high branch, crouched down, his golden eyes watched the horizon. The rain slid down his fur without making him blink. The carved wooden staff rested across his knees. His mind went over the plan once more: infiltrate Masanobu's bandit group, make sure the enemy escort was the target… and unleash chaos.
He was barely ten years old, but his gaze was calculating, instinctive, and sharp.
—Those children will fall today, and it will be thanks to me… —he murmured to himself, his voice so soft that it blended with the whisper of the wind—. Children… who want to steal my father's glory.
...
Flashback Begins
They were in the dojo.
The woven tatami mats were damp from the rain, the roof was leaking, and the incense had gone out before finishing its chant. Kaien —upright, imposing, with a firm gaze— held a letter.
An important letter from some criminal ally.
—"Giotto… has secured another important contract in the Land of Black Iron" —he read quietly, barely moving his lips.
Then, silence.
Saruo, who was only nine years old at the time, stepped forward.
—Father… today I broke three boards with a single strike. Did you see?
Kaien did not answer.
His golden eyes remained fixed on the letter, and in that instant, Saruo felt something inside his chest go out. A fire he had tried to ignite for years. His father's indifference hurt more than any blow.
—He… is just a child like me —Saruo whispered, trying not to cry—. Why do you always talk about him?
Kaien barely glanced toward his son. His voice was low and unchanging.
—Because he has something you still do not understand, Saruo.
—What is it?
—Intelligence… and a very uncommon kind of strength.
Saruo clenched his jaw.
End of flashback
...
Back in the present, the rain continued falling over his shoulders. Saruo did not tremble, but his tail moved nervously.
—Intelligence and a very uncommon kind of strength…? —he repeated quietly—. And what about those of us who were born to live in the shadows?
His heart beat faster. He wanted to earn that gaze. That approval.
But something inside him whispered: What if Kaien never looks at you, even if Giotto falls?
He shook his head angrily.
It did not matter.
It did not matter.
—Today you will see my determination, Father —Saruo whispered, fixing his eyes on the path Giotto had just taken—. Even if I have to bring down the boy you admire with my own hands.
Saruo remembered what Kaien had told him. About those children called Vongola. About an orphan named Giotto who built an escort company so efficient that even merchants from the Land of Black Iron knelt to hire their services.
Saruo had never needed anyone… except Kaien. And seeing his father admire another child more than him… that hurt. That was why he trained: to be seen through his eyes.
Saruo hid among the tall bushes, his eyes shining like wild stars. His heart was beating at a thousand beats per second. The desire to please his father, Kaien, coursed through his blood, along with one certainty: he had to prove that he was more than a monkey with a staff, as some called him.
He had practiced every jump, every spin, and every strike with brutal discipline, under Masanobu's stern gaze.
And yet, when he saw that boy running toward some unknown priority… he felt something different.
It was not fear. It was… curiosity.
—That's him —he said, narrowing his eyes—. That's the boss of the Vongola. The boy who is changing the order of things… and who has taken my father's attention.
He smiled sideways, revealing his fangs.
—And he is far from his escort…
From his branch, Saruo watched the path Giotto had just left behind. The forest seemed to whisper beneath his feet. He slowly stood up, moving his tail to maintain his balance. Then, he jumped and landed without making a sound. Not even the mud felt his presence.
The branch swayed behind him.
—This will be easy —he said.
But deep inside his chest, something was throbbing.
Was it excitement? Doubt? Fear?
Saruo was not sure. But he knew one thing: he had to act before the leader returned. He had heard the rumors of his superior strength. He hated him out of jealousy… but he would not underestimate a child with strange powers.
His mission was to ruin a reputation. That would be his greatest revenge.
His plan begins.
...
Sorry guys, let's assume this chapter is for this week and yesterday's chapter was for last week. Ah, this time I'm super focused on fanfiction. I've been sleeping well, though it's a shame I don't really feel like exercising or doing other things. I think I'm hyper-focused on this novel.
As for the materials, I had already done them about a year ago, so I'm compacting everything into a single chapter so it all turns out just the way I like it and writing doesn't get boring for me. Still, I don't want to take too long because I want to wrap up Giotto's arc quickly. Be patient with me and I'll be patient too xd.
Ah, I'll see if I can finish a bit of the upcoming chapter and keep going to see if I can publish another one before this week ends. If not, wait for next week. I just hope this fanfiction doesn't suffer a dopamine crash so I don't end up skipping next week and having to post the week after that—that would be terrible! But don't worry, I'll keep publishing.
Well, saying goodbye, Happy reading! Bye-bye!
— Wissumi Wizaki
Until the next chapter!