Interlude: Hitman (2)

The word small is not enough to describe Ozora's apartment. If it can be called an apartment when it doesn't have a bedroom, of course. The kitchen is barely large and wide for a person of his height and built to lay on the free space of the floor. Two thin people can work in a tight tandem inside, but not more. At least the window on the side lets fresh air inside, so it never smells like food for too long.

He still doesn't like it, so he lets Fong be the one to get the kettle ready. Instead, he goes to the small table next to the door and moves the small plate where Ozora always leaves his keys a hair away from their original position. Then he goes around the living room and does the same with the horrible amateur paintings hanging on the walls.

Job done, he goes to the chair he claimed as his, completely different from the others and so much more comfortable, and relaxes. He gives a last glance to the room with only thin closets and two couches of different colors, one used as a bed. The table they use to drink is only meant for four, but as it is pushed against a wall, it can only be used by three.

Pathetic, true, but still so comfortable and warm after being the residence of a powerful Sky for months. He plans to move him to another place, preferably a larger one, but he's waiting to harmonize with him (if they ever do and is not a simple flame-infatuation Renato's suffering of because of Ozora's Harmony) or for someone else to harmonize with him first as it's seen as controlling to move a Sky to another place when the Element is not harmonized with said Sky.

"Sit and stop fidgeting," he says, eyes closed. He's sure the man is at best standing close to the door, but for people like them, who have learned how to mask their body language almost perfectly, that's fidgeting.

The sound of keys alerts him of Ozora's position outside the door and is probably what saves him from receiving a passive-aggressive answer.

Ozora enters the room, looking resigned at seeing them already inside. Fondly resigned, which is still a fairly new expression but welcomed all the same.

"Tadaima," he murmurs distractedly as he puts his keys on the plate and moves it to its right position without thinking. Renato with his small knowledge of the language is not able to understand the word's meaning, but it must be something important to make Fong smile in such an embarrassing way, not befitting of a professional killer. When the martial artist answers him with an 'Okaeri', Ozora starts so badly he almost trips again, confirming its significance.

Renato feels left out of an inside joke when Ozora's blush deepens and he refuses to look up. So he makes sure to shoot a hair away from his head with a rubber bullet, the sound coming muffled thanks to the silencer. "The water's almost done. I want my expresso."

Fong throws him a dirty look, most likely because, after the first spar he won, he made him swear to not use his guns inside the apartment. But the joke's on him because this is not any of his guns.

Ozora as usual just grumbles—clearly conditioned to relate gunshots with impatience and not seeing them threatening when he knows the person shooting— and goes to the kitchen to wash his hands, fixing every hanging painting he comes across. By the way, the muscles on his back relax at his skin touching the cool water coming from the sink, his hands must be really cold.

"Where are your gloves, anyway?" he asks when Ozora goes to the cupboard to take the tea and coffee out.

"And your hat," Fong adds. He probably would have warmed Ozora's hands with his own if they weren't also cold from being outside, sparring. "It'll give you a headache to go outside without one in this weather."

"Oh. Uh, I kind of lend them to Mona and she—Well, a 'she' that time. I'm sure she's a 'he' now. Or that's what he was the last time he called. Anyways, he needed them and I forgot to ask them back."

Both assassins share a quick look before returning their gazes to a now thoughtful Ozora who seems happy to ignore their blank stares. A thing that upsets Renato as one shouldn't get this familiar with another assassin, even with a Sky in the middle to smooth things out.

Before Renato gets the chance to take out his gun to snap him out of his musings, Ozora's eyes flash orange as his expression lights up in realization. Taking the cookie can with the Oolong tea and the one with the imported grains of coffee to the table, he runs to where he left his bag and starts rummaging inside.

"What are you looking for?" Fong asks, leaning slightly in when Ozora's frustration becomes evident. For being a cleaning nut who likes his space to be in a certain order, Ozora's bag is as messy as one can get. Papers, pencils, sugar packs, and even spoons can be found inside. His frustration at not finding what he's searching for is understandable, but also his own fault so Renato doesn't give him any sympathy.

"I don't know how difficult is to find it with how big it's—oh! Found it!"Taking out one of those new cellphones, Ozora turns around to show it. "He gave me this!"

Uneasiness prickles inside him, "He did?"

"Yeah, Mona. Remember a week ago I went to see DeMort with some friends?" Renato lifts slightly his hat to show he's listening. "That day I met Mona. Well, not that day, but—It doesn't matter. She also came with us and how it was late I offered her to stay the night."

He ignores the gender exchange Ozora seems to be doing at referring this person even if it confuses him a tad. Thanks to so many years in the mafia little surprises him so he takes it in stride. What he does not ignore are the shifty look and nervous posture.

Fong seems to notice the same. In a too mild voice, he says, "And he gave you a cellphone after that? How nice."

"Really nice. What a wonderful person he must be," Renato adds, in a tone he's mastered to make it sound light but still conveys perfectly how idiotic he thinks the other is, with enough amount of mocking that they will feel shameful of even mastering the courage of talking him.

Ozora didn't even stand a chance. He folded like wet paper before he even finished talking.

"… Remember the Mist I found at the hotel? Well, he was curious about me so she kind of… followed me?"

Renato pinches the bridge of his nose instead of groaning as he wants to. Fong's face settles for an expression of pure exasperation which, coupled with the still ever-presented smile, makes him look constipated. His normal smile returns as his hands go back to his sleeves, probably to stop himself from grabbing his shoulders to shake him.

"Ozora, you do know is not wise to socialize with people who follow you, right?"

"Hey! Renato's the one who made me trip on him and—"

"That still doesn't explain why you've now a cellphone, brat," Renato interrupts, not bothering to acknowledge the deadly glare Fong's giving him with red glowing eyes.

"Well, he thinks I can help him gain money with my Intuition."

Renato can practically hear the capital letter. He lowers the rim of his hat. "Intuition?"

"My sixth sense, remember? I don't know how exactly works, but I know it does." He nods at the cellphone. "Like, I don't know why bringing up I've got a phone is important, but I've got a feeling I should and that's why I do it. It also tells me to not worry about Mona-san and my Intuition is never wrong."

There's a beat of silence, before Fong nods, "I trust you. I'm merely worried about this tendency of yours to associate with dangerous individuals. You went with the Vongola heir to this show, if I'm not mistaken."

"In my defense, I didn't want to go."

"Ho? By the way, you sang odes of it, one wouldn't have guessed."

"Shut up," he grumbles as leaves the phone on the table and grabs the cans he left there, Fong following behind to help. "I said I didn't want to, not that I didn't enjoy it."

"That still doesn't explain what your so-called 'intuition' is going to do to gain money."

"Stock market. He's even going to help me gain some for myself and for, uh, other stuff. I'll probably need it for when I move out, so."

That makes him pause. It doesn't sound like he's just thinking about it and that means—"When are you moving out?"

"Um? Oh, in two weeks. This one even has a bedroom and the living room is bigger!" At noticing their lack of enthusiasm, he adds, "I should have mentioned it before, right?"

"You should have told me you were thinking about moving out, Ozora," Fong offers softly. "I may be new in this country but I do have contacts. I could have helped if you had asked for help."

Renato doesn't need to offer vocally when glaring can convey the same meaning. By the shudder he sees, Ozora gets it. He tries to look over his shoulder, but a well-aimed spoon on his head makes him turn to where he's making his coffee. "That hurt, Renato!"

"Stop whining and talk."

When Ozora turns betrayed doe-eyes on Fong, the martial artist answers with, "A little pain never hurt anyone."

Ozora sighs, unsurprised and resigned. "You always say that when you help me train."

"Ozora."

"Okay! It's not that I was planning to move out anyways," he ends grumbling. "My Intuition guided me to that place. I got inside, went to the room it wanted me to go, and, uh, one thing led to another… But! Don't worry, I wasn't planning on not giving you the new direction. Because... you want it, right?"

The faint stiffness in Fong leaves out as he ruffles Ozora's hair with the hand not holding the kettle. "I would appreciate it, yes. Though I can't help but wonder how… accurate is this 'intuition' of yours, Ozora."

"Well, it made me buy all the stuff needed for Renato's coffee a day before he appeared. The same with the tea for you. It also made me buy that Mapu Tofu and directed me to where you were and to other places more. I don't know why at the moment and I still don't know why now my Intuition leads me to some places, to be honest, but I know it's where I need to be. What I need to do."

Renato frowns as he receives his espresso. "Ominous."

"Is not like that. Though I admit sometimes it feels a bit creepy, my Will is the one guiding it. It's safe. And thanks to that I met you and knew I could trust you. Mona-san, too, even if he's too interested in my necklace to be—"

"Does that mean she's a stronger Mist than the 'friend' who gave it to you?" Ozora snorts in an incredulous way, which is a first. Renato doesn't like this overconfidence though. "A strong flame user can see through the illusions of others with less powerful flames than their own."

"There's a reason. I don't know which one, but I know Mona is important like—"

His head snaps up and for a moment he looks scared when he sees them, eyes roaming intently across their forms. "Are you thinking of—I mean, do you have children or planning to adopt one?"

Renato is sure he's not the only one caught flat-footed with that question, but he knows Ozora is honestly worried about it, so he doesn't mock him. Not even when he lifts up his arm until it's at his eye-level and says, "Mamoru, I need you to do me a favor."

A bracelet appears on his wrist in the next second—He knows it's his necklace despite the change of form as he hasn't caught him touching the space around his neck for a couple of days now—and with a shudder, the jewelry gains life. A snake of deep orange color with weird circular black marks slides off of his arm and lifts up until they can lock gazes.

"I—I need to talk to him. In-person. Can you search him for me and tell him?"

The reptile nods, as if understanding the words, and opens its mouth wide, feathers that wouldn't have looked out of place on a peacock's sprouting around its length. When a bright flame appears on Ozora's forehead, the snake doesn't doubt in launch forward and eat it whole. The abrupt movement makes Fong twitch slightly from where he's standing next to Ozora, but neither interrupts whatever is going on. Especially when the snake slides off the brat and flies towards the window, going through the solid surface.

Renato feels a headache forming and he really needs to shot something or use the brat as a pillow until his Sky flames can manage to calm him down. He prefers the shooting option.

Ozora serves himself a cup of tea, looking a bit calmer though the worry still lingers on his frame.

"… Aren't you going to explain, brat?"

Luckily, Ozora isn't holding his cup when he speaks. It'd have fallen otherwise.

"Explain?" he asks in a too innocent tone. He still sucks at lying so it doesn't last more than a couple seconds.

The guilty expression that follows makes him glad he's stocked some liquor in this place. By the way, Fong drinks his scalding tea as if it was a shot, Renato knows the other will appreciate it, too.

"Tells us what you can, then."

He throws a glare at the martial artist. "Stop spoiling him."

"I'm not spoiling him," he says, his smile gaining a pathetic edge. "You said it yourself. We aren't his Guardians."

It annoys him to hear his words being thrown at him. They make him want to shot something, too. However, by the way Ozora's shoulders drop even lower and the glint Fong's eyes gain when the brat looks down, it was entirely on purpose.

That crafty bastard.

Oh, he's guilty, alright. He even looks at him with the face of someone who's just kicked a puppy or some small animal. As if just by sharing his shame he'll be less at fault or Renato will take some of the blame away.

Renato's not a nice person, so he just gives him a quick thumbs-up only both of them can see, he then turns to Ozora and waits for the brat to stop feeling bad about himself and start talking.

The glare he feels drilling the side of his head is pleasant to feel next to a cup of espresso.

A couple of seconds later, Ozora looks up at them with those big doe eyes. "Well… I guess I can tell you about what happened with Mona-san that day and how are we going to work."

And that means there's more.

"I'll bring the alcohol first," he says as he stands up. It's going to be a long night, he can tell.