author's ...
I'm sorry for not bringing the episode on time.
I was organizing my ideas.This time there will be a jump of a few months to prepare the next guardian...
After that, I will focus on the past of Kaien and Saruo.You will be surprised... xd (I hope so xd!)
Well... I, Wissumi Wizaki, wish you a happy reading, goodbye, goodbye...
Year 1047 B.N. – August 24
The gallop was steady, dry, like a drumroll of war no one had ordered.
Saruo felt the vibrations climb up his spine, settle in his teeth, resonate in every thought. Behind him, Prince Yaskar was tied up, body rigid, muscles still challenging the ropes. But he no longer spoke. Not for the last two hours.
A good sign. Silence, Saruo thought, always heralded an important conversation.
The landscape unraveled around them: trees as thin as forgotten spears, wind laden with ancient ash, and roads branching as if the ground itself was unsure where to go. In that ownerless land, Saruo planned to twist the fate of a kingdom.
"You know what's funny about all this, prince?" he said, without turning his head.
Yaskar didn't reply. He didn't have to.
"If you screamed right now, no one would come. Not your brother, not your generals. Only your decisions would arrive. And maybe... the fire."
The horse descended a rocky slope. Saruo used the rhythm to straighten himself and then, with a calm, almost theatrical voice:
"I haven't kidnapped you. I'm inviting you to act. We're going to fake your disappearance. Make it look like the Land of Lomo was negligent. Let them believe the king's brother fell into the wrong hands. Do you know what that causes? Panic. In the small, annoying country. The big ones fear losing the advantage. And in that fear... doors open."
Silence. But not for long.
"You're insane," Yaskar said dryly. "Why would I help you?"
Saruo smiled, that half-smile that never reached his eyes.
"Not me. Someone you already know. The Fang."
He turned his head just enough to let the name float between them like a blade.
"My boss."
Yaskar tensed. Not because of the ropes. Because of what he'd heard.
He closed his eyes. A futile attempt to shut out the world. But inside, everything began to burn. The minutes of silence hadn't been empty—they had been restraint. Every word from Saruo had hollowed him out, like drops of a carefully planned intent.
Kaien? The Fang. That name had always been a shadow over his older brother. A myth of manipulation for Yaskar, present in the background of many nobles. And now he was in front of that beast's subordinate. Tied up. Without a sword. Unsure whether to ignore him or listen.
But there was something worse. Something he didn't want to admit: Saruo wasn't what he had imagined.
He wasn't tall. He wasn't imposing. He wore no armor and didn't show his wounds through his fur. And yet, every gesture carried weight. Every word dropped like a stone in a pond. Yaskar knew Saruo was young, maybe even a child. He had seen his kind before:
strange beings that emerged ten years ago during a popular slave auction, forging a big name—Kaien the Fang. Most of those strange monkeys had killed themselves or died unable to endure slavery.
But he hadn't known one still lived. And one this strong. The one who had kidnapped him.
Yaskar had watched him silently during the ride. At first with disdain. Then with curiosity. And now, with a growing unease he could no longer contain.
Damn you, he thought. You look like a kid playing at being a monster... but maybe you already are one.
He thought of his brother. The endless meetings. The speeches. The cowardly decisions. The slow, sordid surrender to diplomacy. He thought of what he would have said if he were here:
"Commit, but stay on the sidelines. I owe that old man a favor. Hold your position. Watch."
Saruo.
Who the hell was this boy really? Could he be dangerous for the future, like the Vongola children? And what role did he play beside Kaien? Did this boy know about his own origin?
Saruo spoke.
"You came to the Land of Lomo to investigate if the rumors about the Vongola were true. And they are a threat. They're influencing this continent patiently. If we don't make a move now, in a few years we'll have no good moves left. And you know it."
Yaskar looked at him, with that restrained understanding Saruo knew too well. It was fear looking for a way out.
"You work with Kaien..." Yaskar murmured. "The Fang."
Saruo nodded. Not like a reverence, but with a pride that burned in his eyes.
"In these situations, my boss doesn't strike like a man. He strikes like a beast. Silent. Precise. When he bites, he doesn't let go. You don't see the blow coming. Only the end."
Yaskar clenched his jaw. He knew that perfectly, thanks to his brother. And he owed that man many favors.
Saruo leaned in a bit, not arrogantly, just with the calm of someone who knows the board has already shifted.
"We make a pact. A fake disappearance. You return to your country in secret. The Vongola think they've caused a diplomatic crisis. They expose themselves. And when they lower their guard... we finish the job."
The horse stopped at the top of a hill. The valley opened below, serene, as if unaware of the invisible war already woven over its skin.
"And if I refuse?" Yaskar asked.
Saruo dismounted. Walked toward him. Looked him in the eyes, and his voice dropped. Not harsh. Just honest. So honest it hurt.
"Then I'll complete the mission. They'll say a prince died at the hands of bandits. And the plan will continue... only with more blood."
The breeze brought the scent of smoke. Real or imagined. It didn't matter.
Saruo walked a few steps away, his silhouette cut against the last light of day. And, almost to himself, he muttered:
"The first move has already been made."
"Tell me one thing," said Yaskar at last. "If this is a play and my country, your boss, and the Vongola have the lead roles... what role is yours?"
Saruo didn't turn. Still stared at the horizon.
"The one no one sees coming."
Yaskar let out a dry laugh. Not mockery. Resignation. He knew things about the boy he would use as a trump card against Kaien if he ever got cornered.
"Fine. We'll fake the disappearance. But one more thing. If at any point I find out you're lying..."
Saruo turned. For the first time, he looked at him with full eyes, without restraint.
"Then kill me. But make sure it's fast. Because if I fail, my father falls too. And if Kaien falls... so does your brother's reign."
Yaskar swallowed.
He was no longer bound by ropes.
He was bound by choices.
And Kaien had no idea that Saruo had left the prince of the Land of Fire alive.
...
What had once been a battlefield was now a resting place for the wounded... at least on the surface.The metallic scent of blood and earth—mixed with gunpowder-like smells—still hung in the air, like an echo of recent violence.
Ugetsu wiped his bamboo sword, stained with mud and sweat. Both he and Knuckle stared into the horizon.A familiar feeling stirred.A burst of energy ignited on the edge of the horizon, and a figure raced through the trees like lightning. Power surrounded him like a comet. His forehead blazed with the Sky Flame in its wildest, most explosive form: Dying Will Mode.
—PRIMOOOOOOOOOO! —screeched a shrill voice from the sky.
—I made it—and that was my last will! —roared the young man, carrying a tiny spirit on his back.
Giotto, wrapped in incandescent force, charged forward with superhuman speed. Though he wore nothing but a loincloth and his body was covered in mud and leaves, his eyes burned with unwavering determination.
—Forward, Sky pony! The Vongola Express doesn't stop! —shouted Lampow, flailing his arms like the ridiculous war drummer of some imaginary army. His hair was also full of mud and leaves.
Giotto skidded to a sudden stop in front of the group—so fast that Lampow was launched into the air by the abrupt halt.
Then... the flame vanished.
Without warning, the energy surrounding Giotto disappeared with a sigh. His legs gave out.The boy collapsed to his knees, then face-first into the dirt, sliding as he hit the ground. His body no longer responded. Only the harsh sound of his breathing kept him tethered to this world.
—BOSS! —Knuckle and Ugetsu cried out in unison.
They both ran without thinking.Knuckle reached him first, lifting Giotto into his strong arms like a fallen younger brother.Ugetsu spread his cloak on the ground to improvise a stretcher.
—Hey! Giotto! Talk to me, please! —Knuckle pleaded, gently slapping his cheeks.
Giotto half-opened his eyes, panting. A faint smile tugged at his dirt-covered lips.
—Thanks, guys… I think I overdid it a little…
—Idiot… —Ugetsu muttered in relief, crouching beside him—. You always make a dramatic entrance. One day you'll give us a heart attack instead of the enemy.
Knuckle let out a bitter laugh and began tending to his boss's wounded legs.
—Relax, boss. Your legs will heal. But after this... no running for a while.
—Again? —Giotto groaned weakly.
—Yes, again. Running across half the region like a flaming lunatic—what were you thinking? —added Knuckle.
Meanwhile, Lampow—who had been thrown from Giotto's back—shook himself like a wet cat and growled:
—What a disgraceful landing! You made me fly like an idiot, Primo!
Ugetsu gave Lampow a knowing smile. The little spirit crossed his arms and snorted.
—Welcome back, Lampow. I see even the underworld hasn't changed you.
Knuckle, just now noticing Lampow, said:
—Aaaah! Lampow, you're here… When were you summoned? Now I get why Primo left the escort.
No one had known why Giotto went off on his own—except Ugetsu.
Lampow folded his arms and turned his back to Knuckle's remarks.
—Well… at least we made it. And I've still got a little energy left in my horn—ready to zap someone if they're up for a round two.
Giotto raised an eyebrow, exhausted, but managed a soft, affectionate smile.
—Enough, you two, —Giotto interrupted gently—. This isn't the time for jokes.
The camp was surrounded by the aftermath of battle.Several wounded Vongola teenagers lay on improvised blankets, being treated by Knuckle.Haru continued to patrol near the northern sector, still shaken by the mission's failure.
Ugetsu stood up. His usually calm face tensed.
—Yaskar was kidnapped, Primo. By a strange being… something like a monkey. We did everything we could, but the enemy was clever and creative. He couldn't beat me one-on-one… maybe we tied. But he didn't fight to win—he fought to test something.
—Test what? —asked Giotto, slowly sitting up with Knuckle's help.
Ugetsu stared into the dark forest.
—He's a kid, around our age, and he's fighting for someone. I saw it. I saw a tremendous potential… someone who might one day rival even you, or this organization. And he got away—there was nothing we could do.
—So… it's over? —asked Lampow, unusually serious this time.
Ugetsu closed his eyes for a moment. Then opened them again—focused and firm.
—No. He'll be back. And next time… he'll be better prepared.
Giotto fell silent.He looked at his own hands, still trembling from the Dying Will Mode's discharge.Then he looked at his wounded friends, his battered team…His heartbeat had slowed. Heavy. Determined.
—Then… we need to prepare. Investigate this new and dangerous enemy who actually managed to harm us, —he said at last, his voice grave—.I wasn't here this time. But next time… I will be. And I won't take a single step back.
Knuckle looked at him, then at Ugetsu. Both nodded.
—For the Vongola Family, —they said in unison.
—And for those who must be ready for what's coming behind us, —added Giotto.
Silence fell once more.But this time, it wasn't the silence of defeat.It was the silence… before the counterattack.
...
Year 1047 B.N. – August 30
Gray clouds hung low over the capital of the Land of Lomo. The rain barely touched the rooftops, as if the sky hesitated to fully pour down. At the top of the royal tower, Giotto Luciano Vongola Gravina—still covered in a cloak stained with mud and dried blood—was escorted before the throne by two knights.
In the council hall, silent as a marble tomb, King Kiku awaited. His face still carried a trace of youthful virtue, his trembling hands hidden beneath the purple royal robe.
Giotto stopped just a few meters from the throne. He bowed slightly, with the dignity of a leader who served not kings, but the truth.
"Kiku, I have returned," Giotto began, his voice firm and unadorned. "I regret to inform you that we failed to protect Prince Yaskar."
Kiku swallowed hard. The echo of those words hit him like any war trumpet announcing the inevitable.
"The… prince is dead?" he asked, his voice cracking.
"We don't know for certain," Giotto replied. "He was captured in a carefully planned ambush—too carefully, I would say. His escort was decimated. We managed to repel most of their attacks… but Yaskar was impulsive and exposed himself to the enemy. That is why he is in the bandits' hands."
King Kiku slumped onto his throne as if his bones had broken. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked at Giotto like a prodigy who had failed a fundamental lesson for the first time.
"What… what consequences could this bring?"
Giotto was silent for a few seconds. Then he spoke candidly:
"A war, Kiku."
The word sank into the hall like a knife.
"The Land of Fire," Giotto continued, "is the most expansionist empire on the continent. It hasn't declared war on Lomo only because it is currently engaged in combat in the east. But that war will not last forever."
Kiku trembled. Literally. His whole body seemed to shrink into the throne. He was a young, inexperienced king, more accustomed to banquets than campaign maps. He had inherited a kingdom at peace… and now he felt that peace slipping through his fingers.
"So… the intentions of the Fire Country's king for an alliance, spoken of by Yaskar, were perhaps just an excuse?" he murmured. "A lure?"
Giotto nodded, his golden eyes fixed on the king's.
"A maneuver. A test. They sent Yaskar to Lomo not only for diplomacy…but to assess the country's defense capabilities. They wanted to measure our defenses, count our soldiers, judge our routes. And now, with the loss of their envoy, they have the perfect excuse to harass us whenever it suits them."
Kiku lowered his gaze. He looked older than he was, as if the years had suddenly caught up with him.
"Then… are we doomed?"
Giotto stepped forward. This time his voice was quieter. More human.
"No… not if we act wisely. I have come to warn, not to surrender."
The king lifted his head, confused.
Giotto continued:
"The war is still three years away, according to our estimates. The conflict in the east is not over, and meanwhile, the Land of Fire will not move its troops here. That gives us time."
"Time for what?"
"To prepare."
Giotto spread a map on the floor, marking several strategic points with a dagger: mountain passes, rivers, ancient fortresses.
"We will propose a line of defense on the southwestern border. We will fortify villages near the limit, build watchtowers, train the next generation of guardians and soldiers. We will make the Land of Lomo an impossible terrain to conquer. If they see us as weak today… let them find a wall in three years."
Kiku looked at him. Something different shone in his gaze now. Fear, yes… but also a spark.
"And you… will help me with that?"
Giotto bowed his head in respect, but his tone was clear.
"If you allow me, I will not only help… I will lead the preparation. With your permission, I wish to train the young. Not as ordinary soldiers, but as shields of this kingdom's freedom."
The king, who until weeks ago had been considered a weak puppet in the hands of his counselors, took a deep breath. Then he straightened just a little and nodded solemnly.
"Then… we will prepare for war. Even if I tremble… even if it hurts."
Giotto smiled gravely.
"That is ruling, Your Majesty Kiku…"
But the battle to come would not only be fought on the fields or stone walls. Giotto knew the survival of his people depended on a delicate balance: the kingdom's light and the shadows hiding beneath its feet.
Without waiting for orders, without wasting time on gestures or formalities, he focused his efforts on himself and the organization he had been quietly building for years.
While armies prepared for the coming war, Giotto sowed the seeds of the underworld, that invisible network that would spread through the streets, markets, and dark alleys.
He knew that, in the long run, this underground world would be impossible to eradicate. Regardless of who ruled, which king ascended the throne, or what alliances were forged, society would have to live alongside that shadow.
It was a vital structure to withstand the approaching storm, an invisible and unstoppable fortress.
Giotto understood that he must not only protect his kingdom from the light but also master the shadows to secure a future where his people could survive.
And so began the true war: the one no one saw coming.
to continue.