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Chapter Text

Once, Zhuang Zhou dreamed he was a butterfly, a butterfly flitting and fluttering about, happy with himself and doing as he pleased. He didn't know that he was Zhuang Zhou.

Suddenly he woke up and there he was, solid and unmistakable Zhuang Zhou. But he didn't know if he was Zhuang Zhou who had dreamt he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming that he was Zhuang Zhou.

-- “The Butterfly Dream”, Zhuangzi, Chapter 2

Dan, a six year old who had no business thinking about Zhuangzi or any kind of philosophy other than what could be had for snack time, nevertheless sat contemplating the subjectiveness of reality. Over the last few years of his (current?) life, as his brain and self-awareness developed, the fog of eat-sleep-bowel movement-happy-upset slowly lifted, allowing his previous (dream?) life to filter through in fits and starts.

The smallest, most insignificant things would trigger these visions (memories?) -- the edge of a counter at eye height, where Dan would find himself recalling that his field of vision should be higher, or a flash of green or pink hair that he didn’t quite remember being natural shades– some of his family had locks a desaturated sort of pink – or the aroma of Papà’s coffee, which smelt even stronger than the tar he used to drink at work (work?).

At some point he’d also realized his other iteration had(?) lived in a different country and spoken a different language, and promptly freaked out over how long it had taken him to notice. He thought he remembered a smoggy, crowded city full of traffic and noise, a far cry from the terraced vineyards and crisp alpine air of his current home.

Dan had yet to remember how that life ended, if at all, and felt like he didn’t really want to. He enjoyed his current life, despite (or perhaps because of?) his child status, and got the feeling he hadn’t been doing so great in the other one. Why would he be here otherwise?

And then there was the matter of this small bonus, which Dan thought might be a consolation prize granted to him for reincarnation. Entering the simulation. Whatever this was.

Shifting his body so the small hands cupped in his lap would not be visible to anyone passing the balcony on which Dan had secluded himself, Dan concentrated and lit a tiny green spark on the tip of a finger. He made it dance over his fingertips one by one, from the index finger to the pinky and back to the thumb, then let it fizzle out.

He’d gotten this ‘mutant superpower’, for the lack of a better term, after miraculously surviving a lightning strike that charred the field he had been standing in, but left him without so much as a scratch. After that, Dan noticed that electronics around him would malfunction whenever he got particularly agitated, and eventually, when he wanted them to. Further empirical investigation established that he could manifest what seemed to be green sparks of electricity if he was determined enough. This ‘electricity’ had strange properties that defied the laws of physics (at least the ones Dan knew of; who knew what crazy natural laws this world abided by) — other than shorting out the lights and scrambling phone calls, it could make objects impervious to damage, which made absolutely no sense at all. Maybe it could even crystallise thin air, considering Dan had once accidentally summoned a green disk of … something … in response to being pursued by a wasp, which had then bounced off the disk and died.

Dan, of course, found this to be the most exciting thing he’d ever done in either of his lives, and wondered if it was the purpose for him being here. Not like he actually could envision himself as some legendary hero with superpowers.

At any rate, Dan desperately wanted to spend more time practicing and experimenting to find out what else he could do with it. Could he electrolyse water? Charge a battery?

Unfortunately, six-almost-seven year olds did not get a lot of private free time. He also had primary school (the greatest waste of time ever when one could do advanced calculus), in addition to the multiple extracurricular activities his family mandated (self-defense, mountain survival training, shooting, hot-wiring, lock-picking…).

All in all, Dan had a pretty rough schedule.

He could of course come clean to his new family about his neon green superpowers, but he was a bit apprehensive of how they would react. He didn’t doubt they loved him, but …

“Mamma, we found Dan!” A familiar sing-song voice, accompanied by a rumbling “Boof!” interrupted Dan’s thoughts.

Dan turned around to face the source of the sound, his current older brother, Dario, and their family St. Bernard, Bébé. The gangly, curly-headed teen was smiling, as he always did around Dan, but his eyes held a glint of concern. “What are you doing sitting by yourself on this chilly balcony, Dan?”

“I just wanted to watch the sunset, and it’s not that cold,” Dan replied hastily, petting Bébé as the dog ambled over to lick him. He peered around Dario and futilely backed away as he realized Dario’s voice had indeed summoned the force of nature that was their mother. “I wasn’t getting into trouble,” he added quickly as Mamma’s hawk-like gaze focused on him, then grinned warmly as his mother’s expression softened.

Mamma, or Madam Zheng, as the staff addressed her, was a formidable lady of stocky build allegedly descended from Chinese pirates (and Portuguese traders, and possibly a half-dozen other lineages. Dan still had no idea how a pirate lady ended up this far inland up in the mountains). She looked and acted nothing like what Dan remembered of his other (previous) maternal parent, other than sharing the same surname, but felt like that familiar brand of aggressively well-meaning tiger mom all the same. He loved her as he loved all his other family in this place: noisy, effervescent Dario, brilliant, aloof Diletta, and their distracted but affectionate Papà, whose greatest achievement was probably marrying Mamma, who ruled the household with an impeccably manicured iron fist. Sometimes he felt a little guilty about his hazily remembered other family, who he’d presumably left behind permanently to be here, but it was very difficult not to enjoy being part of the energetic, weird and wonderful Villani household, despite the family’s many failings.

Such as their various and sundry criminal activities.

“You shouldn’t sit around so much, Daniello. You should go play outside, get some exercise,” said Mamma, patting Dan on the head fondly as Dan gave her a hug. At his eye level, Dan spotted a small blood spatter on Mamma’s otherwise impeccable pantsuit. Because Mamma would want to know so she could make herself presentable, and because he wanted to change the subject, Dan pointed it out quickly.

“Mamma, were you collecting rent again? There’s a bit…” Dan gestured to his own chest.

The Villani Trading Co. did everything from protection rackets to dairy smuggling to pest control (for a given definition of ‘pest’) in their little rustic corner of northern Italy. They were small-time, regional fixtures who generally kept to themselves, doing their best to avoid the meandering tentacles of the Milanese syndicates further south and the Swiss past the border. As the boss’s wife, Mamma didn’t have to see to business herself, but Dan suspected she rather enjoyed terrorizing would-be troublemakers. With family like these, Dan had long since given up hope of living life on the straight and narrow.

It didn’t quite bother him as much as he thought it should. Was this what they called ‘desensitization’?

Mamma, having spotted the stain, clucked her tongue in annoyance. “So there is,” she sighed. “Dario, take your brother to the dining room. I will join you shortly. Papà’s home for dinner today.” She gave Dan’s hair one last ruffle and turned to leave, handing her jacket to the slim, short haired lady beside her, her bodyguard/personal assistant Haiyan, who bowed slightly and followed after her.

“Come on, let’s go.” Another hand came down on Dan’s head to steer him from the balcony.

“Rude,” complained Dan, half-heartedly elbowing Dario in the ribs. This only earned him another relentless head rub as he was maneuvered down the hallway using his head as a joystick, Bébé following placidly behind, tail wagging. Being pint-sized certainly sucked. Everyone wanted to touch his head, for some odd reason.

“You’re the rude one,” said Dario, chattering away at a mile a minute. “I’ve been looking for you all evening! Why were you really squirreled away in a corner by yourself anyway? I can never find you unless I take Bébé. Don’t tell me you were actually just watching the sunset, do you even believe that yourself?”

“I just like some space to think,” Dan replied, though he didn’t think he sounded very convincing. His poor older brother probably thought Dan was being bullied at school or something and had been secretly crying in a corner. “I promise I’m ok.” He widened his eyes and gave his brother the most innocent look he could manage.

Dario rolled his eyes. “What do six year olds even have to think about… oh fine! Don’t look at me like that… you’ll tell me if something’s wrong, yeah?” Dan nodded, gave Dario an awkward quick hug, then bolted before Dario could bear-tackle him in return for being ‘such a cute little brother!’.

Honestly, this overly passionate family.

***
Over dessert, Papà announced that one of their Very Important friends down south, the Vongola, had invited the whole family to attend a Party, near the end of the year.

“Papà, they’re our only contact in southern Italy. Because you said they’re all crazy down there,” corrected Dario, who never passed up a chance to remind Papà of his general reluctance to wander any further south than Rome.

“They are all crazy down there. However, the Vongola might as well be the only ones who matter! Of course, we might not even have this connection if your great-grandfather--”

“O-kay Papà!”

Thankfully, Dario cut in again before Papà could retell that tired story about how the Vongola Seventh had pledged the eternal friendship of the Vongola to their enterprising great-grandfather in exchange for three wheels of cheese and a bottle of wine, thus giving the Villani family, then just a struggling band of smugglers, enough clout to establish a foothold for themselves etc etc. Dan had heard it a million times.

“So, what’s this party for?” asked Dario.

“It’s the 18th birthday of the youngest son of the Vongola Ninth, Federico. He’s being inducted into the business, so it’s a big deal,” said Papà, unruffled by the interruption. “We missed the celebrations for the last two sons … if we miss this one again our friendship might not stay so eternal.” Papà smiled at Dan, apologetic. “We’ll have to celebrate Daniello’s birthday earlier or later, as it’s around that time.”

Dan shrugged, not really bothered. “It’s okay.” Mamma reached over and kissed his head fondly.

“Wait, is Diletta supposed to go, too?” Dario asked suddenly.

Diletta, the eldest and most opinionated of the three siblings, currently attended boarding school in Switzerland, but would be home for winter break, just in time for her hard-earned holidays to be subsumed by this trip down south.

“She hates these things. She’ll be so pissed!” crowed Dario, who, as usual, seemed particularly excited at the prospect of his sister losing her temper, which usually resulted in bullets and mayhem.

Papà winced. “Well… it would be best if she did, since the invitation is for all of us…”

“She will come with us,” said Mamma, with frightening calm. “Sit down, Dario.”

Well, if anyone could make it happen, it would be Mamma.

***
In the intervening couple of months between that discussion and the Vongola Party, Dan had made more progress on his ‘superpower’, though it had taken some acrobatics in time management and dodging his minders. Based on pieced-together eavesdropped conversations between Papà and Dario about Vongola, he suspected that the green sparks were the ‘Lightning’ type of ‘Dying Will Flames’, a rainbow-colored, weather-themed set of phenomena that apparently manifested when the users were, well, in danger of dying. He’d heard of them briefly before, from the men around the compound, but never quite put two and two together, as he had a hard time thinking of his ability as a ‘flame’.

Near-death experience, check. Acid green ‘lightning’ with illogical hardening properties, also check. None of this made any sense to him, still.

Papà didn’t seem to know all that much about Dying Will Flames, due to the Vongola Alliance’s near monopoly on Flame users in Italy. Their own family being friendly with, but not part of the Alliance, also meant that they were not privy to detailed information on those Flames.

Once again, Dan had deliberated at length whether to tell his family about his abilities, with the added reassurance that they were probably kind of normal, or at least known of. Eventually, he settled on no. The extra scrutiny they would likely face for having a Flame user might be more problematic for their small-time organization than helpful. Perhaps they would even be pressured into giving up Dan to a more powerful syndicate! That might never happen, but still, Dan would rather wait and see until he had more information.

Uncertainties aside, what Dan did know was that he could now stun creatures (wasps again, Dan seemed to be a magnet for them), and more excitingly, could now morph his green disk into a cylinder of varying size, which could trap objects within an electric forcefield. Unfortunately any living thing trapped in there invariably ended up dead if he made the cylinder too small, as had happened to … yes, wasps, roaches, a sage plant, and on one particularly horrific occasion, a rat. Dan was fascinated, and wanted to make much bigger cylinders, to see if the..Flame’s…magnitude?...scaled with size, or if the same amount of Flame just became more thinly spread out. It was going to be difficult to find a good spot to do it. Dan thought it was a miracle someone hadn’t seen him already.

He decided the problem could wait until they got back from their trip. He had all the time in the world, after all.

***
The day of this universe’s Dan’s birthday (he didn’t quite remember his other one), they took a short flight to Palermo.

Dan had requested cake for breakfast in lieu of an actual celebration, which he got and consumed shortly before being herded onto the eight-seater private jet that Papà had borrowed (or appropriated), together with his family, plus Haiyan and two of Papà’s bodyguards.

Their seventeen year old big sister Diletta had deigned to come along, but made sure everyone knew how unhappy she was about it. Dan felt so exhausted on his parents’ behalf that he took it upon himself to plop down next to her and pester his sister with questions about school so she would stop sulking.

Diletta was one of those prodigies who did well in everything she applied herself to, won all kinds of scholarships (hence the fancy school in Switzerland), spoke multiple languages, played sports, and was beautiful to boot. Really, her only flaw seemed to be her attitude problem, but Dan thought that might be just a teenage thing. Unwittingly, her brilliance provided a convenient smokescreen for Dan’s precociousness and age-inappropriate actions, as their parents just assumed more of the same.

Unfortunately this left poor Dario with the worst combination of an inferiority complex and middle child syndrome. Dan privately thought Dario was quite capable in his own right, though, and knew his sister felt the same, despite disparaging Dario’s ‘slowness’ sometimes. Dario, like Papà, had a silver tongue and could talk circles around almost anyone, a rather underrated skill, in Dan’s opinion. If Dan read Papà right, Dario would likely be next in line to lead their family business, which Dan wholeheartedly agreed with, since Diletta would probably offend everyone within half a day. It helped that Dario resembled their father and late grandfather the most both in appearance and character, which pleased those more traditionally-minded in the Family.

Dario was listening in on Diletta’s stories as well, curly head bobbing in agreement and offering a witty remark now and again. Diletta’s bristliness steadily broke down in the face of both brothers shamelessly buttering her up, and she even smiled! Dan considered that a mission success.

“You’re a good little brother, Dan,” Papà whispered, giving Dan a pat on the head.

Dan ducked his head, a little embarrassed. Well, he was pretty sure this was his first time being a sibling, so he appreciated the positive feedback.

***

They were greeted at the Vongola private airstrip by a tall man in a black leather coat, who Dan immediately recognised from the posters that had been going around back home. Like in the posters, it wasn’t immediately obvious that one of his gloved hands was a prosthetic.

“It’s Tyr the Sword Emperor,” hissed Dario, his voice going up almost an octave as he clutched at a bemused Dan. “I didn’t think we’d meet him! I thought he’d be like, busy assassinating and stuff.”

Tyr (who Dan privately called “He-Man”, due to the aggressively manly blond pageboy cut, pronounced jawline, and sword toting) had held the Sword Emperor title since his early twenties, and had headed Vongola’s assassination division for almost as long. He had a very active fanbase all over Italy’s underground, even up north where their family lived. As far as he knew some were even sticking his posters up on doors to ward off evil. Thankfully, Dario managed to refrain from running up to him to ask for an autograph.

“He’s probably here for something more important,” said Dan, attempting to peel Dario’s fingers from his arm and ignoring his stifled squealing.

True enough, after greeting them very politely but distantly and having a minion direct them to a pair of waiting cars, Tyr excused himself, evidently having other matters to attend to as Dan had guessed. As they passed, Tyr casually glanced in their direction, and their eyes briefly met. Dan offered a respectful nod, which was returned with a slight incline of Tyr’s head before their gazes fell away. Dan thought he could see why Tyr was a ‘Sky’; his grey eyes made him think of the sky just before a snowfall in the mountains, solemn and still, with clouds so low you could scarcely tell where the sky ended and the land began.

Dario kept up the excited chatter about all things Tyr all through their journey to the Vongola-owned hotel they were staying at. Alarmingly, even Diletta seemed a bit dreamy-eyed about the encounter. The only saving grace was that they were all speaking their hometown’s dialect, which the driver probably (hopefully!) didn’t understand, saving Dan from crippling second hand embarrassment.

Heaven help him if it was going to be like this the whole of this trip.

***

A day later, Dan stood by himself in a corner of the expansive, lavishly decorated ballroom of the Vongola main estate, quite content to nibble on some dainty desserts and people-watch. He was alone, as everyone else seemed otherwise occupied. Diletta had caught the eyes of a few young men (including the birthday boy) and was dealing with (punishing) the attention accordingly. Dario had made a few new friends and was recounting their encounter with Tyr accompanied by exaggerated hand gestures (as their regional variations in language were not entirely mutually intelligible). Mamma had been trapped in conversation with some of the other mafia women for a while and still couldn’t get out, and Papà was nervously hobnobbing with a few Alliance Dons, looking like his soul would leave his body at any minute.

The party itself was … interesting. Dan could see why Papà made so much of the ‘crazy’ in this part of Italy. So far, not less than five separate fist fights had broken out and three of the buffet dishes had turned out poisoned (there were doctors with stomach pumps on hand so no one died). And then there had been that whole ridiculous song and dance that made up a traditional Vongola Birthday. At least Papà had brought an entire crate of contraband absinthe smuggled from Switzerland, and so managed a respectable 60 points. The loser was actually shot, but again, no one died.

Dan’s thoughts were rudely interrupted as something barrelled into his chest, almost knocking him over.

“Hey! I could’ve dropped my plate on you,” he told the offending object, which turned out to be a small blond toddler. Said toddler blinked up at him, tears welling up in his eyes. Oh, oh no no no… Dan had no idea how to deal with small children.

“Okay, okay, don’t cry,” Panicking a bit, Dan hastily shoved the kid a brightly-colored marzipan fruit to distract him. “Here, I’ll give you this.”

Biting into the bribe, the toddler broke into a grin. Unable to resist, Dan reached out and pinched a chubby cheek. He didn’t like kids all that much, but this boy with big brown eyes and angelic blond curls was adorable.

“What’s your name? Did you get lost? Do you need to find your mamma?”

Toddler child babbled something in quick Sicilian or related dialect while waving his arms, nearly falling over. Dan had to grab him by his jacket before he faceplanted into the carpet, noting with some amusement that the kid still had a death grip on his piece of marzipan.

He was talking so fast in his little toddler lisp that Dan could barely understand a word of what he said (did he say his name was ‘Dino’?). The kid quickly finished his sweet and started despondently licking his fingers, looking hopefully up at Dan (more specifically, his dessert-laden plate).

“I’m Dan, by the way,” he told maybe-Dino slowly. “Are you hungry? Do you want the rest of this?” He offered the toddler the rest of his plate, and seeing him nod eagerly, he gave the plate to him, making sure he had a steady hold on it. Thankfully, it was one of those dainty dessert plates.

“-ank you,” beamed the kid, apparently starving and already chowing down. Where even were this kid’s minders?

“I’ll go get some more food for you?” Dan asked slowly, pointing to the food on the tables that were probably too high for the kid to reach, considering he’d had some difficulty himself. Well, since he had nothing to do at the moment, he supposed he could entertain the kid and make sure he didn’t get into anything poisonous.

Dino seemed okay with that, so Dan sat him down somewhere out of the way of general traffic and returned to the buffet table to pick out what he hoped were a few toddler-friendly options.

Dan was contemplating if meatballs were a choking hazard when a commotion kicked up on the other side of the room, apparently serious enough that some muscle had appeared from the edges of the ballroom and were making their way there. Regretfully not actually tall enough to see what was going on, Dan decided to turn back and check on the toddler.

Who had, of course, disappeared, the plate of half-eaten sweets upended on the floor. Dan really hoped Dino hadn’t gotten involved in whatever was happening in the ballroom. He looked around quickly and just caught sight of the child disappearing out of the ballroom, led by an adult woman.

Dan followed after him before he knew what he was doing -- perhaps it was because even from that one glimpse, Dino seemed reluctant and even fearful, but something was clearly wrong.

One step into the corridor, and Dan was already semi-regretting his decision to be a busybody. Despite clearly being in the line of sight earlier, Dino and whoever had taken him had straight up vanished the moment Dan had tried to follow. Dan was also pretty sure this had been a well lit, straight hallway when they’d first arrived, not this...winding, dark...wherever.

Also, where was everyone? There was no way a mansion this big would be so deserted, especially with a big party full of criminals going on. Dan figured it must be one of those magic weather flames things-- there was one, Mist, that was supposed to be about illusions. Again, illogical, unscientific, headache-inducing...

Straight ahead, he told himself, and strangely enough whatever alternate dimension or illusion was overlaying reality flickered enough for Dan to spot the duo and hurry to follow.

Two minutes into the chase, if it could be called that, Dan was convinced this was the worst idea he’d ever had. It felt like one of those dreams where you kept running and running but never got anywhere, with every movement slow and syrupy. He kept getting mental nudges to turn around, or impressions that there were walls or locked doors in his way, as if a maze was being built around him. Only by firmly ignoring all of that nonsense and focusing intensely on Dino and the woman who was dragging him by the hand, constantly mentally visualizing their position, could he even keep track of them.

Eventually they came to a stop at the end of a corridor, the woman evidently feeling she needed to get rid of their tail once and for all.

“Dan!” Dino shrieked when he saw Dan and tried to run towards him, but the woman roughly yanked him back by the arm. The woman smiled a bit stiffly, and said something in a placating tone.

“My apologies, I didn’t catch that,” said Dan, who had a headache and insufficient processing power to parse the accent.

The woman looked at the end of her patience but repeated, “Were you looking for Dino? It is past his bedtime, so I will put him to bed now. You should get back to your parents before they worry.”

As the woman was speaking, Dan had been watching Dino frantically shake his head, crying with so much distress that he was hiccuping. The tiny hope that this was all an elaborate misunderstanding died completely, replaced by grim determination to get the kid away.

“Oh, yes, it’s pretty late,” agreed Dan, and zapped the woman as hard as he dared.

Their surroundings rippled as the woman staggered and dropped her hold on the kid, who stumbled away. Dan dashed forward and hit her again, flooring her, before scooping Dino up and hauling him away as fast as he could, hoping he hadn’t done too much collateral damage to the toddler.

“Come on Dino, we gotta go,” he hissed, trying to hurry him forward while the woman was down. Dino, probably shocked and disorientated, kept falling over himself and Dan wasn’t strong enough to carry him properly, so he ended up half-dragging him along. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the woman was already getting up, and yep, warping reality again because a wide crevasse opening to what looked like depths of Hell abruptly split the path in front of them. Logically, Dan knew this was another trick, a lie, but his head hurt, and he couldn’t focus enough to see the way out, or make his brain tell his foot to take a step forward.

Stepping cautiously towards them, the woman looked ready this time to counter whatever Dan had previously thrown at her, and Dan figured he’d better do something immediately before she decided to pull out a gun or something, but he was drawing a blank.

Out of panic, frustration, and sheer lack of options, Dan threw up as big of a lightning cylinder as he could around the woman, boxing her in, and pulled it tight. He’d never done one so big but it would hold, or Dan would die trying.

Almost as if responding to his will, the fiery hellscape wavered and reverted to the plain wallpapered corridors, ceiling lights flickering in and out.

The effort made Dan’s head feel like it was going to explode, like a tension headache and the world’s worst hangover all at once. He was hyperaware of Dino’s presence, but everything else seemed oddly muted. His palms were cold and sweaty, and black spots were starting to swim in his vision.

Then, he heard footsteps? Voices?

“We’ll take it from here,” said a voice, rich and deep and reassuring.

By the power of Greyskull, thought Dan, and passed out.

Chapter Text

Dan opened his eyes, then immediately wished he hadn’t.

Mamma was staring straight at him, arms folded and distinctly unimpressed. Papà, frazzled and worn beside her, immediately lit up when he saw Dan was awake, the furrow between his brows smoothing out with relief. Dario was there too, on the other side of him, and Diletta was perched on the foot of Dan’s bed. They were in some kind of clinic or hospital room. By the look of the sky outside the window it was nearly dawn, and no-one looked like they had slept or even changed out of their party clothes.

“Sorry,” said Dan, shrinking back into the covers.

“Honestly, we can’t leave you alone for five minutes!” exclaimed Dario, hovering in close and ignoring Dan’s mumble of “more like two hours”. “How did you even manage to get caught up in a kidnapping attempt or whatever? And since when could you use Flames? The nurse said you overused them, that’s why you passed out.”

Diletta smacked their over-enthusiastic brother. “Don’t crowd him, you idiot! He’s recovering!” She turned away when Dan mouthed a “thanks” at her.

Papà leaned in then, brushing Dan’s fringe away from his forehead. “You’re alright?” he asked a bit anxiously. “It sounded like you got into something very scary. You protected that little boy though, Don Cavallone’s only son.”

Dan nodded, relieved. It looked like Dino was probably okay, then. “I’m just tired,” he reassured his father. Truthfully, he felt mostly fine, other than being a bit headachey. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Tyr and his men found you and took care of it,” said Mamma. “I’d have liked to crush that woman’s skull myself.”

“Darling, please,” groaned Papà, burying his head in his hands, as he always did when Mamma was being a bit too obviously bloodthirsty.

Mamma just harrumphed at him and continued, “Then they collected you and Don Cavallone’s son and brought you to the infirmary. I told you, you need to get more exercise and stop sitting around all day. Maybe you could’ve run faster and not fainted.”

“Yes, Mamma,” agreed Dan obediently, because he knew that was Mamma’s way of saying she’d been worried out of her mind and hated not being able to do anything about it.

Mamma continued the haranguing for a bit, until there was a polite knock on the door.
It opened after a pause, and a genial-looking, but sharp-eyed man in his early fifties entered, accompanied by Tyr, another unfamiliar middle-aged man, and lastly a teen, the birthday boy Federico, if Dan wasn’t mistaken. Everyone stood, so Dan quickly scrambled to sit up properly. He thought he recognised the oldest man from earlier — the Vongola Ninth? He really didn’t look much like Federico.

Indeed, Papà greeted him with “Don Vongola” as the most powerful man in the Italian underground waved his hand slightly, and indicated they should sit back down. He then regarded Dan with his heavy brown gaze. Dan had overheard Papà mentioning that the Vongola leaders were all Skies, but the Ninth didn’t give off the same vibe as Tyr at all. He wondered if Federico was also one.

Dan ducked his head and waited for Don Vongola to look away, then surreptitiously poked his brother.

“Who’s the other man?” he whispered, meaning the middle-aged, dark-haired man they didn’t know.

“Dunno,” said Dario, unhelpfully distracted by Tyr’s presence.

“That’s the external advisor,” said Diletta. “Shh!”

Dan had no idea what an ‘external advisor’ did in the mafia, but had to put aside that thought as the Ninth spoke.

“Don Villani and family-- firstly, thank you for attending my youngest’s birthday celebrations,” he began. He was echoed by another “Much appreciated,” from Federico, whose eyes were already wandering all over Diletta, the pervert.

“I must also offer my apologies for your unpleasant experience while a guest of my home,” the Ninth continued. Surprisingly, the Ninth spoke a variation of their dialect, which Dan thought was quite considerate and probably aimed at making them feel more comfortable. His voice had a resonant and strangely compelling power to it, commanding attention and even a little awe.

Dan was a little bit creeped out.

He glanced at Papà, then made eye contact with the Ninth. “Well...it was an unforeseen circumstance,” he said, as calmly as he could manage. “We have otherwise had a lovely time. Thank you for your kind hospitality.”

The Ninth smiled. “You’re a very well-spoken young man,” he commended. “And a brave one. Thank you, for saving my friend’s son Dino, despite the danger to yourself. He might have been kidnapped, or worse.”

“Um,” Dan scratched the back of his neck, a little uncomfortable at being praised. Wouldn’t any decent person help a small child in trouble? “He’s well?” Dan was a bit hesitant to ask such an important person a possibly trivial question, but it seemed like if anyone would know it would be Don Vongola, or Tyr, who was next to him but had remained silent so far.

If anything, the Ninth’s smile widened. “He’s physically unharmed, just a little shaken, but I’m sure he will recover in time,” he said kindly. “He is being taken care of by his family now.”

That was a relief, but Dan had a lot of questions, like why Dino had been left to wander by himself, who that woman was, and whether poor Dino would be safe from now on. He recognised it wasn’t really his place to ask, however, so he just nodded and stayed quiet. In the corner of his eye he could see Tyr observing him, which made him slightly nervous.

“Zafferano and Tyr would just like to ask Daniello a few questions, then we’ll let all of you get some rest,” continued the Ninth. “It shouldn’t take long. Federico, would you please take our guests to have some refreshments in the anteroom?”

“Of course, of course, follow me please,” Federico all but jumped at an opportunity to chat his sister up. Dan would bet good money that the teen was only here to flirt.

Mamma looked like she was going to protest at being dismissed and leaving Dan alone with a bunch of strangers, and Dan was slightly concerned that she might even fight someone about it.

“Silvio, please feel free to accompany young Daniello, he might need some comfort,” the Ninth added quickly, before exiting the room after his son.

Mamma made a soft huff of annoyance, but left the room after a stern glare at Dan and Papà both. Dario and Diletta reluctantly followed after, looking concerned and pissed off, respectively.

Once the door had closed behind them, the previously silent Zafferano addressed Dan, before they could lapse into an awkward silence. “You have a wonderful family,” he said with a small smile. “It is always good to see such close familial bonds.”

“Thank you,” Dan replied, half-consciously fisting his hands in the bedsheets. Papà gave him a comforting squeeze around his shoulders. “So, where would you like me to start?”

In the end, Dan had to give them a brief run down from when he first met Dino to when he passed out, then fill in the specifics at their behest (all the while watching poor Papà blanch paler and paler with each detail).

There was a small break in the middle to properly explain Dying Will Flames to Dan, probably because he was using entirely incorrect vocabulary to describe the encounter between himself and the evil(?) nanny and the abilities he’d used to defend himself.

Despite his exhaustion, Dan immediately perked up.

“I didn’t know anything about this,” he said, which was mostly true. He could tell his wide-eyed, hopefully age-appropriate eagerness was amusing the adults, but he’d happily milk any indulgence the men might feel towards a curious child for all the information he could get.

Sadly, Zafferano seemed to want to keep things on track, and once they got the basics covered, gently steered Dan back towards his account of his misadventure.

They were particularly interested in the kidnapper’s behavior, since apparently she had really been Dino’s nanny and the closest to a maternal figure to him, Dino’s mother being unfortunately deceased. Yet no one had known she was a Mist Flame user until last night despite her long service to the family and extensive background checks. Dan guessed that Dino must have on instinct escaped from his nanny once he sensed something wasn’t right, and serendipity brought him to Dan.

“What you encountered was indeed a Mist illusion,” confirmed Zafferano, after Dan again described the labyrinthian transformation of the mansion’s corridors and how it felt like to traverse them. “The Ninth could sense something was amiss, but it regretfully took too long to determine what was happening. Thankfully, Tyr was at the right place at the right time.”

“Dear god,” said Papà faintly, clutching Dan’s hand. “It could have gone so wrong…”

“Papà, I’m okay,” said Dan tiredly, not really knowing how to comfort him. “I’ll…be more careful, next time.”

“Next time!” Papà exclaimed. “I certainly hope there is not to be a ‘next time’! If Tyr hadn’t been there…”

“Young Daniello saved himself,” said Tyr, speaking up for the first time since he entered the room. “He disrupted the illusion, and signaled his position. It was loud, and made himself easy to find.”

Loud? Dan blinked, uncomprehending.

Zafferano looked mildly amused. “Tyr just means your Flames were like a beacon,” he explained. “I’m sure anyone remotely sensitive to Dying Will Flames knew there was an upset Lightning in the building last night.”

“Ah?” Dan wondered if that was a good or bad thing. Unfortunately no one cared to elaborate further.

In the meantime, Tyr was still regarding Dan with a coolly appraising gaze. “I saw you cut off the Mist woman’s abilities, somehow, when I found you and the Cavallone heir,” he said. “What was that? It looked like you had enclosed her in a jar.”

“Um, I just call it a cylinder.” Dan didn’t really know how to put it into words, so he formed a tiny one the length of his palm, too tired to make anything bigger. Zafferano called out to stop him from exerting himself, but Tyr sat up almost immediately and focused his laser stare on the… thing…in his palm. Dan was proud of himself for managing not to flinch, and the Flame fizzled out a few seconds later.

“Like that.” Dan laid back, panting a little. “I don’t really understand what you mean by it cutting off her abilities, but if Lightning flames can work like an electric field, like you said, it could function similar to a Faraday cage, maybe? Somehow? I don’t know how any of this works.”

Considering how the laws of physics here are completely fucked up, Dan added mentally.

Zafferano looked up wryly from where he was making notes of some kind. “It seems to me you’ve figured out plenty, young man.”

Oh, was that the crux of it? They were suspicious.

He shook his head, defensively drawing up his shoulders. “I just knew what I overheard from people. My parents didn’t know I could do this either.”

“That’s right!” Papà exclaimed. “I had no idea at all!”

Zafferano made a placating gesture. “I believe you,” he said. “I apologise if I sounded accusing. We are not here to interrogate you, just surprised.”

Dan would be pretty suspicious too if someone showed up in his home and started pyrotechnics without so much as a by-your-leave, so he just shrugged.

“One last question for our young Daniello,” said Zafferano, “then we will let you get some rest.”

Dan nodded reluctantly, so Zafferano continued.

“How long have you been able to summon your Flame?” asked Zafferano. “There is usually a triggering event.”

Dan had to think about that for a bit. “Two years, I think. After I got struck by lightning. I tried some stuff out, but I didn’t know what it was, really.”

“You got struck by lightning?!” Papà clutched at his thinning hair as all colour drained from his face. “Dan!? Why don’t I know about any of this?”

“Papà, I’m sorry!” said Dan, alarmed as Papà started swaying dangerously. “Please don’t faint! I wasn’t hurt at all so I didn’t…I didn’t think it was important!”

The other two men looked at each other, as if thinking, “that would certainly do it”.

Once Papà had calmed down a little and had a glass of water, the conversation continued.

“So, you practiced by yourself, without anyone finding out,” surmised Zafferano. Dan nodded.

“Sneaky,” Tyr commented, a rather ominous glint in his eye. “You’d likely fit right in.”

Fit right in where? Dan didn’t know if he wanted to know, especially when Zafferano gave Tyr a very small, troubled frown.

***

Everyone went to catch up on sleep after that (with Mamma ominously promising that Dan hadn’t heard the last of her reprimands), and Dan next awoke around five in the evening. He was pronounced hale and hearty, and so went to join his family in the guest suite they were occupying, took a shower, then everyone went down together to dinner (but not before Mamma gave him a lecture and a half and grounded him for the foreseeable future).

“Dan!” A little blond whirlwind came barreling into him, and Dan had to catch him by the shoulders before he fell over.

“Hello, Dino,” greeted Dan, as the toddler burbled something incomprehensible to him. He was glad that Dino seemed perky and none the worse for the wear. The boy also now had his own… entourage? Dan could count two bodyguards nearby, and two more hovering somewhere almost out of sight.

“Wow, I didn’t know you were so good with babies,” commented Dario teasingly, as Dan introduced the toddler to his family.

“I’m not?” Dan protested, though he did not sound very convincing with a toddler attached to his hip. Dino giggled and seemed content to be a limpet for now, tiny hands clutching onto Dan’s sweater. Dan wondered if he’d have to get through dinner like this.

Thankfully, he was saved by Dino’s father, Don Cavallone, approaching and introducing himself. The don seemed to be around Papà’s age, with messy, wavy blond hair like Dino’s. He sported a more casual look with his hunting jacket and boots, in contrast to the pressed suits most mafia men favored. Dan liked him immediately.

The adults exchanged formal greetings, and Dino detached himself long enough to be scooped up by his father while they all sat down to dinner. The Vongola Ninth did not usually have his meals in this part of the house, and most of the other guests had already left, so it was just Dan’s family and Dino’s. Embarrassingly, Don Cavallone insisted on thanking Dan for rescuing his son.

“Tyr and the others did most of the work, I’m sure,” protested Dan. “They’d have saved Dino even without me.”

“Still, it means a lot that you helped him,” said Don Cavallone, ruffling his son’s hair fondly. “I hope you can be great friends.”

***

Dan and his family were invited by their hosts to stay in Sicily for as long as they liked to see the sights or to network, but by the third day after the incident everyone was more than ready to leave.

Don Cavallone himself had left very quickly with Dino to settle matters at home, and while the Vongola were gracious hosts, the fact that Dan had inadvertently revealed a lapse in their security (at their very own party, no less) made it a little awkward for everyone.

Dario wanted to go home to Bébé and the cheese smuggling operation he’d recently been given responsibility for. Diletta was on the verge of strangling Federico with her nine-section whip. Papà’s blood pressure was probably reaching quite unsafe levels, and Mamma just wanted some peace and quiet. Dan himself was quite done with how people kept staring at him and whispering, as if he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Well he didn’t always understand what they were saying, but it was still rude. Dan even thought he saw money exchanging hands a few times.

It became (just a little) clearer after Papà and Mamma revealed that they had received multiple job offers on Dan’s behalf.

“I’m seven?” said Dan, uncomprehending. Well, this body, at any rate. It was a bit hazy, but Dan believed he was probably closer to forty, all things considered.

They were at a gelato shop, not far from the Vongola estate grounds. It was probably owned by Vongola, judging from the clamshells decorating the place and the uncommonly brawny owner. Diletta and Dario had gone off to socialize with some of their new friends, so his parents had decided to take Dan out for a treat and relax a little.

“Not all that unheard of,” Mamma shrugged, delicately wiping her mouth with a napkin. “We rejected them all, of course.” By some means of sorcery, her lipstick did not budge an inch. “None of the terms seemed fair. You don’t need to work anyway. You should be studying, at your age.”

Wait no, that wasn’t the point. What about child labour laws?

Then again did the mafia follow labour laws? It would be more in line for them not to, thought Dan, disturbed.

“What sorts of jobs?” Dan asked, curious despite himself.

“Bodyguard gigs, if you can believe it. Lightnings are…shields, or at least that is the general view of them, due to the way the Flames work,” said Papà with a wince. “Most of the offers are for protecting children. Some for Guardianship, though if you ask me you’d be better off with Don Cavallone’s kid, if you really had to choose something. Maybe when he’s old enough to tell if he’s really a Sky like Don Cavallone or not. But you don’t have to worry about that! None of these are even really serious offers, they’re just testing the waters. Testing me.”

He drew Dan into a hug. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Dan really didn’t know what he’d done to deserve his family. Must have accrued some really good karma in his past life.

Ruminating on the ‘Sky’ label that Papà had given Dino … the boy had been on the verge of awakening some sort of thing, for sure, Dan decided, after analysing what he remembered of his ordeal. He’d felt it, but couldn’t say if it was similar to Tyr or the Vongola Ninth’s ‘vibe’-- those two were the only other Skies he knew.

Moving on, there seemed to be additional sociocultural connotations to being a Guardian to a Sky that Dan hadn’t quite grasped, but he doubted any elaborations were forthcoming for the time being. To Dan’s limited knowledge from Zafferano’s explanation and what he’d pieced together, the most stable configuration of Flames, for whatever reason, was one of each type with the Sky as its center. He wondered if there was some sort of logic to it …

“We’ll have to get you trained somehow, eventually, so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself,” Papà continued, scratching the thinning patch on his head. “Maybe a tutor…”

“Perhaps my older brother will know someone,” frowned Mamma, “he should at least be good for something.”

“I have a proposal, if you would hear it,” said Tyr, appearing suddenly out of nowhere.

No one had noticed the man come up to them, not even Haiyan or the other bodyguards, judging from their startled expressions.

A true professional, thought Dan, once he’d recovered from almost jumping out of his skin.

“The Sword Emperor?” Papà sounded a bit faint. “What can we do for you this afternoon?”
Tyr pulled a chair over to their table and sat down. He had a little cup of what looked like lemon gelato, which looked comically small in his hand.

Dario would be so sad he’d missed this, Dan mused a bit dazedly.

Tyr had seated himself so he was facing all three of them, rather than just Papà, as most mafia men tended to do.

“I’m currently looking to take an apprentice,” said Tyr, straight to the point. “I think young Daniello would suit. He’s the right age, still malleable, and he can keep a cool head when things get rough. I like that.”

Malleable?

“Thanks, but with all due respect, I am uninterested in your line of work,” blurted Dan before he could stop himself.

“Excuse my son’s rudeness but I must agree!” exclaimed Papà. “We’re all extremely grateful for your help in rescuing Dan, but I don’t believe we shall be raising him as an assassin! He’s not remotely suited for it!”

Tyr seemed amused, rather than offended. “Nobody said anything about assassination, but Daniello would probably be better at it than you think,” he said. “But no, I am the sole inheritor of a school of swordsmanship, which teachings I would like to pass on. Most would jump at the opportunity.”

“I doubt you’ve had the opportunity to assess our boy’s physical talents, which are sorely lacking, by the way,” said Mamma, completely unimpressed (ouch, thought Dan). “As you say, you could have your pick of students from anywhere in Italy! Speak plainly! What do you want?”

“I am truly offering an apprenticeship,” said Tyr patiently, though none of the other adults looked convinced. He looked directly at Dan. “You will need to be trained, regardless. You don’t quite have the resources to do it back home. And I’m sure you’ve had offers to join other famiglia already. Perhaps there will be more… persuasive attempts.”

He paused for effect. “Like it or not, you are now a commodity, young Daniello. I am not sure your family can prevent your acquisition by larger, stronger powers. Perhaps the debt the Cavallone owe you might count for something, or perhaps not. Think about it.”

Tyr ate his gelato in two bites, then stood and left.

“I hate the south,” muttered Papà.

***
Dan couldn’t help his long sigh of relief when they were finally home. Papà and Mamma promised they would take care of everything, and that Dan didn’t need to worry at all. Dan did worry, and felt extremely guilty over causing so much trouble, but he was glad that his family had his back, as Dan hadn’t the slightest clue what to do next.

It was decided that Dan wouldn’t be going anywhere until he was at least in the double digits, mafia precociousness notwithstanding. His parents did seem to be trying to find someone to teach him how to use his abilities, though despite Dan’s curiosity and interest in the subject, he had major reservations about what such training might entail, as the mafia seemed to use Dying Will Flames exclusively for fighting.

Which was awful and a complete waste, in Dan’s opinion. But he supposed you couldn’t really expect otherwise of the mafia.

“I don’t really want to do any fighting,” Dan confessed to Mamma. “Self-defense is one thing, but…”

“No one will make any of my children do anything they don’t want to do,” Mamma said very firmly. “Except homework, you still have to do that.”

“Aww, must I?” said Dan, then laughed and gave Mamma a grateful hug, relieved and reassured, for the moment, at least.

Life went on as usual, with Dan continuing his completely unnecessary primary education, and learning all the various skills a child born into organised crime apparently had to learn. The only downer was that Dan was now watched very closely,

His family seemed to be particularly worried about any lingering trauma from Dan’s misadventure. Diletta had to go back to boarding school, but she called back to check back on Dan every now and again, which was unexpected and sweet. Dario insisted on bunking with Dan for a bit, and often left Bébé in Dan’s company if he had to go somewhere. Most unnervingly, Haiyan found some people from somewhere (her apprentices?) to follow Dan around 24/7.

Other than some expected bad dreams, where Dan wandered around lost in the Mist labyrinth and couldn’t get out, he was… mostly fine? Dan was more worried about Dino – the kid was so young. He didn’t remember if children Dino’s age remembered much of their experiences after they grew up, but surely he’d be a bit traumatised in the short term?

Dan would probably see him at some function or other in the future, as they sort of ran in the same-ish circles (that was with the caveat that Papà wasn’t completely put off visiting the south for the rest of his life), so he could hopefully follow up then. For now, Dan would just… stay put, be patient, and allow himself to be babysat.

Sadly, the increased supervision did mean there wasn’t any opportunity for Dan to explore his abilities.

Possibly for the best, thought Dan, though he itched to learn more.

He’d been given a peek into a fascinating realm of possibilities, and now he was to… what, forget it existed?

No, that wasn’t exactly right. Both Mamma and Papà hadn’t seemed that upset by his abilities, just that he’d gotten himself in danger. They weren’t spreading the news around either, even within the Family, and so far what happened in Sicily seemed to have stayed in Sicily, despite Tyr’s ominous words. Dan understood his parents were protecting him, even if he didn’t quite grasp what exactly the ramifications were if word of his abilities were to become widely known, so he would cooperate.

…There was just so much he wanted to figure out, though!

Surely there was some kind of science devoted to the study of Dying Will Flames? Though it would probably be tightly controlled by the mafia, if so, given the whole….Omertà thing. And somehow, Dan didn’t think this type of knowledge would be shared between syndicates, so he had very faint hopes of being able to access any of it.

Dan would just have to content himself with continuing to cross-check any science texts he could get his hands on to see if he could figure out any hints at rules for this whole Flame thing. He doubted there would be anything useful, but it wasn’t like he was going to get more information otherwise, and it was something to do.

At some point, a shaggy black pony was delivered to one of the Villani-owned farms– a thank you gift from Don Cavallone, who apparently owned several racing stables (did ponies race?). It–she, apparently–was objectively very cute, but Dan was fairly sure the creature would bite him given half a chance.

He named her Barbara, after the department secretary who always —

Who always …what? The thread of memory slipped from his grasp almost as quickly and suddenly as it had appeared. But the name seemed appropriate, so it stuck, even if Dario teased him about the ‘old person name’ he’d given his new pet(?).

More such ‘memories’, or glimpses of a past or parallel life, were coming to Dan now. He’d grasp the beginning or tail end of one, then invariably get interrupted by someone or something and lose the train of thought. But somehow the knowledge was retained, on a deep, visceral level, just waiting for the right trigger to drag it to the forefront of his mind.

Like when his uncle showed up, and he had Dan’s old face.