Chapter 37

It takes Ozora a while to answer. He first says something in Japanese and stops, realizes what he has said, and fumbles once again for the right Italian word. His "Pronto?" comes next, unsure and tired but more awake than he expected.

"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping now, brat?"

"Oh. Renato! Hi, how are you? Everything's fine? No problems, right?"

The honest eagerness in his voice settles something inside him, making breathing easier. He closes his eyes as he realizes Renato's missed him more than he's thought. Probably not more than drinking his espresso, though.

"Is that doubt I'm hearing? I'm the best, remember that."

Ozora huffs, whispering, "I'm surprised no one spotted you thanks to your big ego and shot you."

"What's that?"

"Nothing! I'm glad you're fine, really. I—I was a bit worried. You didn't call or leave a number, so, uh…"

"I'm fine," he says, and perhaps it comes out gentler than he intended, but hearing the little Sky's relieved sigh makes up for it. A little. He'll probably shoot Ozora for doubting him when he sees him next. He actually opens his mouth to say that, but a loud thud coming from Ozora's side of the phone stops him.

"What the—Oh kami. Is that another body?! You promised to stop!"

"For the RMI, yes. This is for testing," a gruff male voice answers.

"What do you need it to test?! It's dead!"

"I'm not denying the range of answers I'll obtain will be lesser than if it were alive—"

"You're not bringing an alive person!"

"—But you don't want me to make tests on you, so."

"How is this my fault?!" Ozora yells in that tone of voice that's part aggravated and part resigned he uses with people he's friendly with. Renato is not reassured by it. It actually annoys him further.

"Ozora," he grits out, but the other seems to be distracted now that the noise is back. He recognizes it as the one of someone dragging a dead or unconscious body through the floor.

"You should finish with those papers if you're not going to help me," the unnamed man rasps out, out of breath.

Ozora groans. "You know what? You'll be fine. I'm going back to bed, now. See you tomorrow."

"It's past one in the morning. I'll be seeing you in the afternoon—" There's another exasperated groan coming from Ozora "—leave the Rain archives on my desk first, though."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Ozora," he barks, darkly pleased at the pained yelp he hears.

"Ow. Uh? Oh, Renato, I'm sorry I kind of ignored you. It wasn't my—I mean, I didn't—please don't shoot me."

He doesn't promise anything.

"I left you for only a week and a half. In what trouble have you gotten into?"

"It wasn't my fault! I just got kind of… fired."

"Kind of?"

"Well, the police's grown too curious and has been searching around for I don't know what. I look kind of too young and I kind of don't have any document aside from a false passport. So yeah, kind of fired. Giorgio-san told me I could go back when the police is not as fidgety. The hotel is kind of shady so I don't think they'll fire me there."

He shots the lamp closest to him. It leaves the room darker, but he doesn't stand up to turn on another. He's angry with himself. He shouldn't have shot those men close to one of Ozora's jobs. The civilians may want to put behind the previous decade and ignore the 'terrorism' that had been going on with such eagerness, but he's not as naïve to not know the government is still jumpy.

The second Mafia War may be at its end, but that only means people are getting desperate, reckless. It makes things worse for the ones dealing with the casualties.

He should have guessed.

"Renato?" With a hand rubbing half of his face, he sighs. That seems to worry Ozora more as he is quick to reassure him. "It's okay, you know? I'll be gaining some money thanks to Mona-san so there'll be no problem with the new apartment's rent. And I've got another job so I'm not going to be bored anytime soon."

'I should be the one reassuring you,' he wants to say. Instead, he concentrates on his breathing for two complete seconds. "Where are you?"

"My new job. The guy you heard? He's my employer, a scientist. A messy one, so I'm working as some sort of assistant? Secretary? Something like that."

"That's not what I meant. Where are you? It's late."

There's a short silence before Ozora says in a way too cheerful tone, "I can't, sorry. My contract says I can't give any detailed information about my work or the person I'm working for."

"And that hasn't made you suspicious?" he grits out.

"A lil bit, but don't worry, everything's fine. And I'm staying here, so I won't be going out late."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "What."

"Well, I stopped renovating my rent and I can't move out yet, so I'll be kind of homeless for three more days."

"And you didn't mention this before, because?"

"I—I calculated wrong. I thought it was only going to be a day instead of a week."

"I'm so going to drill math into your head, brat."

"Hiee! No, no. It's alright. Besides, because of me, scientist-san is more into flames and he tends to forget to sleep and eat when he's too into a theory, so I'm making sure he doesn't die while here."

Fuck, Ozora will end up giving him gray hairs if he ends as his Sky.

"Flames?"

"Oh, damn. Okay, if anyone asks, I haven't told you anything. But if I had told you something then it'd be how it isn't my fault and he was into it waaaay before we met."

"You seriously need a minder."

"I do not." A pause. "Besides, I don't think it'd help any."

He looks at the pouch on top of the table and stands up to grab the orb inside it. It's still as warm as the day Ozora gave it to him, settling what's left of the itch that appeared because of Mafer's flames. Closing his hand, he presses the too-tight fist against his forehead and concentrates on the comforting feeling it gives.

People call him the Greatest Hitman; they fear him and respect him in equal measure because of his skills and intelligence. He has money, a reputation, and is fairly young for the success he's gained. It's true that it'll probably take a long time before another Sky strong enough to pull him comes with the same compatibility he has with Ozora, but he can wait.

He really doesn't need a Sky at the moment. Ozora can be like what Mafer is to him, someone that will help his flames settle down with a quick fuck. He knows the brat would understand.

"Renato?"

...But he can't deny some part of him really wants this frail, non-mafia-attached brat to be his Sky.

He's gotten attached, damn it.

"I'll only say this once so listen carefully," he says in an even tone. As he waits for the little Sky to make a noise of agreement, he moves his fist away from his forehead and lights it in Sun flames. "I'm going to give you an address, you'll retrieve a key from there. Then you're going to go to my apartment and stay there until I go back."

"Oh… You don't mind?"

"I'm offering, aren't I?"

"Right. Um, thanks, Renato."

"Do you have something to write on?"

"Always," he says, resigned.

Opening his hand, he recites both addresses, watching idly the now yellow orb as he talks. The faint orange tint is gone but instead of his flames erasing the feeling Ozora's flames gave it, it turns into something similar to the indigo one. Still warm, but now alive.

At least, he's sure being Ozora's Element won't ever be boring.

"Hey, brat," he says when he's sure Ozora's finished writing. "This is me stating a claim, so don't go off searching for another Sun."

The sound of Ozora choking on thin air is music to his ears.

"Now go to sleep, little Sky. Dream of all the bullet holes your new apartment will have."

He cuts the line with a smile and places the yellow orb in the inside of his pajama's pocket before looking to the side, where a chameleon is resting on one of the room's plants.

"Did you hear that?" he says, scratching the underside of his chin. "I'll be introducing you to someone important soon, Leon."