Interlude: Hitman (1)

Interlude: The Hitman

Uncaring of the cold winter brings two people fight on the roof of a nondescript building. Thanks to the season's long nights, the sky is already dark above them. However, it's not late enough that the sounds coming from the streets below can't muffle the thuds of hits and kicks. And it's not as if they're particularly loud, either. Actually, part of those frequent spars includes following a set of rules, like keeping the damage and noise at a minimum. They're both experts in hand-to-hand combat, one with more formal teaching than the other, so it's more interesting to do it that way.

Renato is a Sun, a strong one at that. He always has an excess of energy most of the time he can't completely erase leaving him restless. That's why he looks forward to these spars with Fong, a thing he hasn't thought would become a regular occurrence, taking into consideration the first time they met: the martial artist was basking in the Sky flames emanating from a sleeping Tsuna that didn't notice him until he was already inside the room.

Elements being caught in vulnerable positions next to an even more vulnerable Sky they're fond of, are not nice at all. Specially Storms.

Ozora is lucky his Stormy friend is not an explosively tempered one or Renato would have killed him. It still took Fong long seconds to return back into his usual calm state, but at least it was before he pulled the trigger. Though considering that at the same time the barrel of his gun was touching the other's temple, Fong had his flame-coated fingers a hair away from his pulse. Maybe both of them were lucky that day.

The phantom ache on his side that that particular memory brings makes him unable to dodge the next kick and he hisses, having only enough time to change his position and augment the density of his leg with flames so his tight can catch the brunt of the kick.

The collision is loud enough the dog two floors down starts barking. And that means the fight is over and he lost.

Damn.

They both return to their original positions. Fong wearing the same casual smile and Renato glaring at the foot imprint on his tight. He lets out a soft exasperated breath through his nose because he knows Fong tries his best to get his clothes dirty in each spar; he deliberately uses more kicks ever since he saw him fusing over a small spot of dirt on his jacket a couple of weeks ago. After all, Renato is more than familiar with that sadistic gleam he saw in his eyes when he offered to clean it using his flames.

"Same price as always?" Renato asks looking down at his watch, not bothering to glance at the man as he starts his cool-down exercises. He would join if only to get a better grasp of the movements coming from an expert, but he's wearing a suit. The spar's been enough to ruin the line of the back of his jacket. His pants are not as pristine pressed as they were an hour ago either. Fortunately, he's a Sun with enough knowledge in medicine to use his flames on his muscles and get the same result.

When a second too long passes without an answer, Renato looks over his shoulder and instead of the well-done poker face, he finds the other wearing a thoughtful expression.

Intriguing.

Usually, the loser gives some mafia-related information the other is interest in. They're from different continents so it's not strange for the other to not know things a native would consider obvious.

"Reconsidering?"

The martial hums as the smile slowly returns. "Tomorrow morning I'll be leaving."

"Ho?" Renato raises an eyebrow. "China?"

"Yes."

It's not necessary for him to point out what he wants; it's pretty clear after one sees him traveling from one corner of Italy to another in the shortest amount of time possible just to be able to return to Ozora's side quickly. However, he's not a nice man and wants to hear him say it, so he allows the other to see his raised eyebrow designed to portray curiosity, but with enough condescension to infuriate. Fong is not impressed, of course. Is actually kind of amazing how his default expression can take that deadpan tint.

If he were a lesser man, he would have felt ashamed of trying to start something so childish, as that's what it feels to receive that patient smile of his. But he isn't. That patronizing smile bounces off him, not leaving a dent on his armor.

He carefully tilts his head to the side, silently reminding the other that he's the one who wants something from him. The sight of the martial artist faintly narrowing of eyes is an amazing feeling.

"Can you make sure Ozora will be fine at that time?"

"You do realize you're not his guardian, yes?" Ho, so the man can glare. Amazing. Renato shrugs a shoulder if only to be difficult. "He's done fine without any of us in his life so far."

Done with his exercises, Fong's posture returns to its usual upright position, looking the same as when they started, not a hair out of place. Like him. Well, except for the slightly hostile tension that's settled on his shoulders, but that's been since before they started the spar.

"Yes, and if you remember, he's mentioned having his flames unsealed recently. That necklace hides his nature, true, but Sky Attraction is a powerful thing still."

Renato skillfully makes sure no expression will show his real thoughts on that particular subject. It doesn't stop the heavy and nasty weight that settles in his stomach whenever he thinks about it though. He's not exactly sure if the 'concern' he feels is the natural response of being around the same Sky for so long or if it's just some part of him who wants to see Ozora as his Sky.

And while it's true Ozora's coffee is really good, slightly better than the one he used to drink in Sicily and he hasn't tried since he moved to Firenze, it's not good enough for him to stop his sort of sabbatical to court a Sky. Especially not now when the Falcone Family are searching for any Sky they can get under their thumb. Is problematic enough they're currently killing the state figures and other Mafiosi in their desperate attempt to win the Second Mafia War as they are calling it.

He's a freelance, he doesn't want to be part of any drama. And doesn't need to either as he's one recognized internationally. He can get hits outside the country easily enough.

And taking that into account…

"I'll be hitting France in two days."

Spain, actually. But France is close enough for the other to get the idea. Usually, when he gives free information it's with the goal of making the other form a sense of trust with him, but he would be lying if he says this is the case. While he's not one to lie to himself, that doesn't mean he is not above ignoring his emotions, like the dread currently rearing its ugly head. Another proof of why he needs to leave Ozora's side until he can center himself enough to make a decision not based on a Sky's Harmony.

(It's enough trouble that with his age and the strength of his flames he's already starting to unconsciously follow some of the archetypes of his flame, a thing most flame users who don't harmonize fall into in an apparent subconscious need to attract a Sky.

It took him years to control those impulses and turn them into advantages—there's a reason not many Elements live past their forties, after all—so if he'll start courting a Sky, he wants to make sure is his decision and not just his biology acting out.)

Fong's smile gains a new edge. "This is not the time to act all tough, Hitman Reborn. You'll be worried, too. Or are you going to deny it?"

Ho. So he does know his Hitman name. Well, it doesn't matter. He's not worried about him linking 'Reborn' with his previous identity even considering he knows the name, Renato. He's made sure of erasing every bit of information about it and he'd most likely think he chose Renato only because of the translation.

It doesn't bother him how he calls him, at all. What does bother him is the knowing look the other is wearing. He can't say anything because he doesn't want to hear how much of a lie it'll feel. So he doesn't.

His posture is relaxed as he ignores the question and asks as bored as he can, "How long?"

"Three weeks before I'm allowed to return at most," he murmurs, looking far away to the side, where the clouds seem to be thicker, signaling the mist that will probably reach them soon.

"As I said before, Ozora has survived 17 years, he can survive a couple of weeks."

Fong hides his hands inside his long sleeves, not because of the cold air as a normal person would assume. That man is a Storm, and like Suns, his body heat is higher than most. He still wants to applaud the man for that small action being the only tells revealing his anxiety.

"He does have a good… instinct, but—"

Checking his cufflinks, he huffs. "It's more than just instinct and you know it."

"—but, I don't think I need to inform you about the sudden rise in the number of Mafiosi in this area, do I?"

"It is decreasing."

"Yes, it is. Two of the people in command were killed a couple of weeks ago along with some of their men if I'm not mistaken. A very professional work."

"Really? I've heard it was done by a Cloud."

"It does seem to be that way," Fong agrees, a smile full of mischief. "The signs of a rampaging Cloud are all there, but they're slightly exaggerated in my opinion. Not that many would notice, of course."

Renato doesn't verbally answer the implication. He merely hums, as if bored. "Survivors of territorial Clouds are almost non-existent."

"That they are. The problem now is that while many will leave, the most skilled will remain, if only to report."

"Quality over quantity and all that? It'll be easier to eliminate them if nothing else."

He receives a heavy stare, not quite a glare. "It would be easier, true, but only if we were to stay."

If you're so worried, then stay, he wants to snap, but it's already a wonder the man's managed to stay this length of time in a country that isn't his. He's heard enough about the Triads to know every one of their active members has at least one connection that isn't allowed to leave their base. For protection, they say. It sounds like a hostage situation to many, but no one dares to comment.

It's not his life so he doesn't care, except—

Except, it seems he subconsciously counted for Fong to stay by Ozora's side, and now that he knows it's nothing but wishful thinking, the idea of leaving irks him the wrong way. The feeling is certainly annoying.

"Have you sparred with him?" he asks. Ignoring Fong's slight frown, he continues, "His reflexes are good. And that sixth sense of his serves more than to just know how to dodge, but can he fight?"

"I only saw him punch once with enough strength to knock a man out."

Renato nods absentmindedly, mind thinking in the ways to test Ozora's fighting competence. He's a Sun, so the excuse to help 'nurture' someone gives him a sort of sadistic glee. Worse—for the person on the other end of his 'nurturing'—he's an Inverted Sun and that means he cares little for someone's willingness.

"What do you think of this so-called 'sixth sense?" Fong asks, not giving a second glance to his unholy smirk.

"That is not something as simple."

"It looks like the prescience the Giglio Nero's boss is so known of."

Renato slides his gaze to Fong, wondering what he's seen for him to not be hesitant at making that statement. He's suspected it to be the case after reading through Ozora's famous scrapbook one slow afternoon he arrived earlier than him. The hitman is sure Ozora doesn't know what the information he's collecting is about, but Renato does as he's the one whose ties with the mafia are deeper than most thanks to his title of the World Greatest Hitman. That's why he knows that most of the articles found in that simple scrapbook are about events whose real story, the one not published, is connected with the Cosa Nostra—things civilians shouldn't know about.

Since then, he's made sure to be inside Ozora's apartment before him just to analyze what he's put the day before.

Still. It's not prescience—he's seen how that looks like, after all.

"He's not aware of the future."

"I know. But you've got to admit he's so attuned to his surroundings in such a frightening way it makes it look as if he can predict what happens next. I haven't found the end of his range either, which adds to the foreknowledge theory for someone who doesn't know him." He looks at him with narrowed eyes. "You've known him longer. Do you know what it is?"

Renato doesn't mention the time Ozora gave him a screwdriver and told him "I've got a feeling you'll need this" a couple of hours before his train to Austria was set to go and how useful it was when he broke the knob of the door that led him to the other side of the Iron Curtain, which he had to walk a great distance inside a dark tunnel just to reach.

He still gets a curious expression at his reminiscent look though, so perhaps he's more relaxed around his person than he normally would be around others, which again, he blames Ozora for.

"Maybe an Esper?"

Fong hums, narrowed eyes landing on him. "Do you really think so?"

Stubbornly, he ignores his look just in time to see one of his bugs approaching, the one he uses to keep an eye on Ozora. The weather is getting colder so it takes them more time to relay when he's coming, not that he needs them when he already knows his shifts, but they're handy when he wants to mess with Ozora's head.

"I won the spar. You still owe me."

He briefly looks his way. "I can obtain a phone for the little Sky to use."

"Which will take you time. Hours after I leave, most likely."

Wearing a smirk he knows is infuriating, Renato shrugs. The serene smile he receives in return is deadly and so, so amusing. Though luckily for the ground they're standing, a prickling sensation on the back of their necks makes them turn to the direction of the street. Renato doesn't move from his spot, already knowing what caused it, but Fong does. The martial artist approaches the edge without leaning onto it and looks down, a small real smile on his lips, his previous tension all but gone.

It's with exasperation that he acknowledges he's relaxing, too.

When the smile gains a faint frown, Renato rolls his eyes and joins him in his creepy stalking just in time to see Ozora placing the lock around his bike, hands gloveless and his hat nowhere to be found. With fast, jerky movements, he finishes so he can place both hands inside his pockets. His pained grimace is hidden when he tries to awkwardly burrow his face as much as he can on his scarf as he walks.

Fong looks unmistakably unsure as he positions his hand on the railing in such a way is clear he wants to jump down but is smart enough to know how much attention that will bring considering they are on the sixth floor.

Besides, it's the brat's fault for not using his own flames to warm himself.

"Let's go inside," Renato says, more for the other's benefit. His voice was barely loud enough for Fong to hear, but Tsuna's head snaps up as if the words have been directed at him. A wince follows, the movement clearly too fast for him to make, but he still gives them a smile, even when Renato is sure he's not able to see them because of the position.

Then he trips as some parts of the ground have a thin layer of ice and he was walking without looking at what's in front of him.

Renato snorts, Fong following with a startled chuckle as the Sky flails on the ground trying to stand up. Without caring for his companion, Renato grabs a pebble from the ground and throws it at Ozora's head when the Sky manages to stand upright. It causes him to yelp loud enough for both of them to hear. Fong doesn't roll his eyes at him, which is impressive, but he gets the feeling he wants to.

"Weren't you saying we should get inside?" Fong says, signaling the door behind them with a hand, clearly intended to lead him out.

He nods at the arm as he walks past him. "Ho? Getting a bit carried away, are we?"

The smile he receives is one with more teeth than it's polite, and he smirks, easily dodging the pebble Fong throws at him next.

Two birds, one stone, indeed.