Author's Note
Hello, my dear readers!
First of all, I sincerely apologize for the big delay—yeah, I know... classic me, XD.
But the good news is: I think I'll be able to avoid repeating the academic year at university! That's why I've had to pour all my energy and effort into it lately—like a true final boss battle.
Part of the delay also came from a lack of creative spark. I spent quite a bit of time trying to put together a decent plan for the story... and yeah, I may have overthought it. XD
Right now, I'll be focusing on my final university project, which I have to present at the end of July—so please, wish me luck and send a prayer or two my way, onegai~ 🙏
Also! I want to invite you to check out my other fanfiction:"The Roronoa Clan in A Song of Ice and Fire."It's shaping up to be something really special. I honestly had a stronger start with that one—it even surprised me. XD(To be fair, I had the whole outline planned ages ago.)
Please take a look if you can! Your support means a lot to me—and yes, I fully admit I need the dopamine boost. XD
As for this story, the next chapter should be out in the last days of July or early August, once I'm officially on vacation and my brain is no longer on fire.
Thanks again for your patience and your support.I, Wissumi Wizaki, wish you a joyful reading journey.Bye-bye~
Year 1046 B.N.
February 19
My birthday came and went as the year ended. It was celebrated, yes—but not with the same joy as last year.There was a weight in the air… a sense of helplessness and uncertainty for the new year ahead.Not because of outside wounds, but internal ones—failures I felt for the first time in this world, and the burden of decisions my body couldn't yet fully understand.But in my mind, everything was clear.I knew where I had to improve.
My training pushed me to the edge of madness, but from that suffering, I was granted a moment of control.Four minutes.Four full minutes of clarity within Dying Will Mode.Four minutes where I wasn't a slave to the power… but its master.A step closer to unlocking the Hyper Dying Will Mode.A step toward regaining what I once was.
My Sky Flames grew stronger—both in volume and presence.The light no longer flickered like a weak torch; it pulsed like a living consciousness, a raw extension of my will.But as my strength returned, the world around me seemed to crumble.
Our escort company was failing.More missions ended in failure than success. Clients were losing trust—some canceling contracts, others vanishing quietly.The reputation of the Vongola was beginning to crack.
After the failed mission with Prince Yaskar, everything shifted.Some said we had grown soft.Others claimed it was pure luck that a bunch of kids had come so far—and now, responsibility was choking us.
But I knew the truth.Someone was moving pieces behind the scenes, preparing something we couldn't yet see clearly.
In my gut, I was sure it had to do with that monkey boy, Saruo.But my instincts also told me there was someone behind him…And maybe that person had enough influence to tarnish our name, to twist our reputation, and spread doubt through the shadows.
...
A pale blue light shone from the circular skylight above, illuminating the black obsidian table standing at the center of the chamber.High-backed chairs, each marked with the Vongola emblem, surrounded the space.The room smelled of incense and cold metal.No one spoke.
Until the door opened.
Giotto entered with a firm stride.His gaze swept over everyone present.The silence broke simply with his presence.
—"Let's begin," he said, taking the central seat.
To his right sat the Guardians, aligned like the spine of his will.G, arms crossed, eyes sharp and severe.Ugetsu, calm and unshaken like a silent lake.Lampo, slouched in his seat, digging idly in his nose but observing with sharp, lazy eyes.And Knuckle, methodically tightening his bandages, already visualizing what was to come.
To Giotto's left sat the operations team:Haru, taking notes eagerly and glancing up with admiration at the Guardians.Sana, the accountant, her glasses fogged from tension.Takeshi, chewing on a toothpick, expression unreadable, thinking of the farm girl who gave it to him.Daiki, mimicking Knuckle's bandaging habits.And lastly, Reijiro, brows furrowed, holding the latest report.
Giotto didn't waste time:
—"Full report. Losses."
Reijiro stood up. His voice was crisp, dry, nearly devoid of tone:
—"Since the failed operation with Prince Yaskar, we've lost seven major contracts:Three from noble houses in the north,Two from silk route merchants,And two more from foreign embassies.Failed escort missions now account for 31% of our registered activity in the last four months.Trust in the Vongola brand has dropped by 38% across all commercial sectors."
—"And in the unofficial reports?" —asked G, his voice like stone.
—"They haven't been processed yet…" —Reijiro admitted, lowering his gaze.
Giotto narrowed his eyes.
—"'Yet' isn't good enough. I want numbers. The real ones. The ones not listed in the contracts.Where are we losing influence without even realizing it?"
Sana intervened nervously:
—"In the passing villages. In rumors. In doors that don't open when we speak our name.People are beginning to associate us with failure… not protection."
—"And yet, no one dares challenge us directly," —murmured Ugetsu, dryly amused.
—"For now," —Takeshi added, sharpening his stare.
Knuckle stepped forward. His voice was firm, filled with quiet compassion:
—"The orphans can feel it. They hear it.They're losing that spark of admiration for us.I see fewer hopeful glances. More fear. More doubt.I've doubled their training, but it doesn't erase the whispers in the hallways.They carry the guilt too… without even understanding it."
Giotto leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and connected with his Hyper Intuition.He inhaled deeply. Several times.
Then, as if a question had been whispered from the sky itself, he spoke:
—"I know you're all doing your jobs well. I trust you. But… I need to know:At what point last year did we lose more escorts than usual?"
Haru relaxed slightly—it wasn't her area.Her role was overseeing banks, assets, and training, rotating with Takeshi.
Reijiro, head of operations, was drowning in duties—certain trends slipped past his tactical focus.
But Daiki and Sana…They broke into a cold sweat.
Sana answered first, her voice trembling:
—"June 16th last year, sir… Daiki and I were responsible for reviewing that data.We noticed the drop, but thought it was normal.You always say we can't be perfect. And also…You were still recovering from overusing the Dying Will Mode.I was worried about you.We decided not to tell you.I… I'm sorry. Really. I didn't mean—"
Tears began to fall.Not just because Giotto had found out…But because her respect for him overflowed.
Sana was barely into adolescence, and her sobs echoed through the room like a burst of fragile humanity no one had expected.
The Guardians sighed.The rest of the managers fell silent, moved by the pain of their childhood friend.
No one noticed the exact moment Giotto stood.
He walked to Sana and embraced her—firm, warm, and silent.
—"Sana… I'm not blaming you. I know each of your limits.Since I gave you these responsibilities, I knew you'd make mistakes.And I also knew that someone, someday, would exploit those mistakes.But you shouldn't bear that weight.That burden is mine.That's what it means to lead."
He stepped back just slightly, looking into her eyes.
—"I don't expect your hundred percent now… but in the future.When your Flames grow stronger.And more valuable to the sea of fate.That's why they call me Sky.Because I carry many storms… and changes that this organization doesn't yet understand."
Sana nodded.That embrace had said more than any words.
Her trembling body began to ease.
That same energy spread to Haru, Takeshi, Reijiro…And to Daiki, whose eyes welled up with silent guilt.
Giotto, after consoling Sana, stopped beside Daiki and embraced him as well—without a word.
Then he returned to his seat, crossed his arms on the obsidian table, and leaned forward—his gaze sharp as a blade and heavy with promise.
—"It seems what hasn't happened yet… already began last year.And I have a strong feeling it's the work of one person.Someone who's been watching us, analyzing us…And is adapting to the way we move."
...
Year 1046 B.N.
June - 05
Time passed.
The days grew shorter. The nights heavier. The months of change approached, when the weather seemed to mirror the state of souls.
After managing to sustain Dying Will Mode for four full minutes, Giotto decided to reduce his extreme physical training. His young body was beginning to show signs of invisible fatigue. Instead, he took on the temporary leadership of the escort company, reviewing contracts, routes, key agents, and all the operational gaps that lower-ranking officers couldn't see without his vision.
Then June arrived.
The cursed month. The month of silent losses.
The month... the cloud moved.
That afternoon, in his personal office in the north tower of the Vongola complex, the atmosphere shifted without warning. The windows, so used to sun or rain, now cast moving shadows, as if the sky was writing itself in an ancient language.
A swarm of clouds—of every possible shape—sailed the sky, drifting like accumulated memories. Thin like blades, thick like mountains, spirals, straight, twisted... yet all sharing one direction: the center of the sky, directly above Vongola headquarters.
And amid that dense sky, the Cloud Seed—stored in a sealed box beside Giotto's desk—began to pulse. Not with warmth. Not even celestial light. No. It beat with a firm, pulsing violet glow, like a heart awakening from a slumber far too long.
Giotto stopped reading reports.
The air grew heavy. His internal flame stirred without being summoned.
He stood calmly. Took the seed in his hand. And he knew what was coming.
Not a guess. He felt it.
"G," he said firmly, without raising his voice. "Alaude is coming. He deserves the proper welcome."
The boy with the facial tattoo stood in a corner—Giotto's right hand, always nearby in moments of lapse or danger. G's voice was dry as steel:
"Understood."
Giotto didn't wait for a response. He pocketed the seed and prepared to depart and begin the summoning.
Meanwhile, G left Giotto's office and signaled the other Guardians and department heads to meet at the old mansion.
"With this, they'll improve... even if they hate to admit it," G muttered, sighing.
The Cloud didn't need trumpets.
Just an open door.
...
Old Vongola Mansion. Central Courtyard. Sunset.
The clouds, packed like unconfessed secrets, had gathered in the sky with an ancestral purpose.
They weren't storms. Nor rain. They didn't herald destruction.
They were witnesses.
A spectral energy coursed through the land, slicing the air like a warning. The birds fell silent. Even the wind held its breath.
Giotto extended his palm and released the seed, which floated into the air. The seed rose with a deep hum toward the heavens, like a horn blown from the underworld. In the center, the Cloud Seed pulsed with an increasingly dark violet glow. As if it were holding something... or someone.
G stood to his right, silent. The other Guardians and managers watched from a distance, not daring to interfere with such a magical sight.
"Witness the arrival of another comrade into this world," Giotto said.
\[System: Condition fulfilled — "Full atmospheric pressure over Vongola stronghold." Activating protocol: Judgment Summons.]
The seed shattered.
But not in an explosion. Not even in light.
It dissolved like smoke held too long.
The surrounding clouds moved, gathering with purpose, as if to assemble a being who would enforce the laws of the sky on earth. Each cloud became DNA, then flesh and form. And from the ashes emerged a figure, slowly—as if walking from another dimension into the present.
A boy, nine years old, taller than the rest. Unshaken.
His hair was platinum blond—not from age, but like solid fog. His eyes were what froze the soul: sharp, empty, ice-blue. Not soulless… perhaps carrying too many.
"Alaude," G whispered with reverence. "The one who watches even while asleep."
The boy descended and landed before Giotto. He looked at him without emotion. Then raised his chin, as if the very air needed permission to touch him.
"You're late," he said in a voice dry as metal scraping stone. "The world has rotted in my absence."
"That's why I called you back," Giotto replied—steady, yet reverent. "To judge it once more."
Alaude scanned the area. His eyes landed on each of his old comrades—G, Ugetsu, Lampo, Knuckle—then moved to the lower officers. No one could hold his gaze longer than three seconds.
Alaude thought, "Acceptable. For cousin's standards."
When his eyes reached Haru, the boy instinctively recoiled. But Alaude didn't glare with hatred. Just... weight.
"The Cloud does not seek approval," Alaude said. "It does not issue warnings. It only watches. And when it acts... redemption is already too late."
"Will you protect us?" Giotto asked.
"No. I will watch you," Alaude corrected. "And if anyone is corrupted—by fear, by power, or ambition—I will chain them with my own hands."
He raised his hands, and a violet flame flared—not burning, but multiplying, propagating with purpose.
"Sometimes these flames aren't meant for enemies," he said. "They're for allies who forget why they fight."
The air grew so dense Sana began to gasp. Haru gripped Takeshi's arm.
"Alaude," Giotto intervened firmly. "We did not call you to intimidate children—but to complete them."
The Cloud Guardian lowered his gaze. For the first time, his voice softened... slightly.
"You've changed, cousin. I see it in your eyes. There's more than just you in there now. I hope you're less naive than before."
"That's because I now carry two lives within me, Alaude," Giotto replied. "And I can't always play the role of the strong one. That's why I chose you. Because balance between freedom and law can only be achieved with silent vigilance. You are the border between chaos... and order."
Alaude extended his hand. His flame glowed, forming a symbol of justice: a circle with a four-pointed cross.
"Then, as before, I will serve you, Giotto. But I will never close my eyes. Not for you. Not for anyone."
Giotto nodded. The pact was sealed, under the same vow as their former life.
At that moment, the sky cleared—not as if a storm had passed, but as if it had been judged… and accepted.
Alaude stood motionless. A living statue.
"The Cloud has descended," Ugetsu said calmly. "A drifting cloud, bound to no one. Guarding the family from a place beyond attachment."
...
Year 1046 B.N.
July - 01
The brush glided over the rice paper with ceremonial grace. Each stroke of black ink was firm, sure… until a voice broke the silence:
"You're good at calligraphy, Prince Yaskar."
The brush trembled. A jagged line crossed the kanji for harmony, ruining it completely. Yaskar twisted on the tatami mat, heart pounding like a war drum.
Standing at the threshold of his private chamber was someone who shouldn't be there. A shadow that did not belong.
Kaien Kiba.
The wild dog of the underworld. The criminal who orchestrated his kidnapping. The man who would've killed him—had a monkey-boy not deemed his life worth more than revenge.
Yaskar narrowed his eyes, subtly shifting to reach a dagger hidden beneath the tatami. But Kaien raised his hands in peace, a crooked smile on his lips, head tilted slightly.
"Look who we have here," Yaskar sneered. "The one who bites and never lets go. Tell me—here to finish what your failed primate couldn't?"
Kaien gave a short snort. He didn't laugh, but his chest rumbled like it held fire.
"Relax, prince. If I wanted you dead, we wouldn't be talking. I came for another reason." He paused, letting silence hang like a suffocating veil. "I came to move pieces. My son said you wanted to help us against the Vongola. You claim you have... interest in this Giotto."
Yaskar inhaled deeply. The tension in his shoulders eased just a little. He sat again, composed like a noble refusing to show fear.
"Indeed. The Vongola enterprises are growing too fast in the Land of Fire. They surround me without permission… like poisonous roots underground. What I want..." he paused, choosing his words, "is Giotto. To work for me. Or for the Land of Fire."
Kaien rubbed his chin thoughtfully, gaze drifting to a porcelain imperial vase—analyzing the idea like a stolen relic.
"The boy Giotto? You ask for too much, prince. That brat's a danger no one can leash. He grows in strength as if time ignores him. Worst part—" he looked Yaskar in the eye, "we don't even know where he came from. Just that he's not normal."
Yaskar looked down briefly. He couldn't argue. The first time he saw Giotto, he was captivated: clear ideas, mature speech, world vision… all in a child with baby teeth. He thought he could manipulate him. Use him. But now… he doubted. Kaien's gravelly voice shattered that illusion like glass.
"What you thought… I thought too," Kaien added, his tone weary, like someone who'd obsessed over the idea until resignation won. "But it's impossible. Sometimes I feel that boy... shouldn't even exist in this world. My son accepted him faster than any other human. Those Vongola brats… they're strange."
Kaien stepped closer, his shadow falling over the tatami.
"And yet… you and I have one thing in common: we don't want to see what happens if they keep growing."
Yaskar breathed deeply. He had lost control of the conversation, but not his power. He couldn't deny that Kaien's plan sounded like salvation for his nation.
"What do you need from me?"
Kaien narrowed his eyes, satisfied.
"Soldiers. Mercenaries you know. I want a coalition to pressure the Vongola from outside. And I need your border patrol troops to make a false move. Something that alarms the Land of Lomo. A distraction. A spark."
Yaskar nodded slowly.
"A false war, to prepare for a real one."
Kaien bared his teeth.
"Exactly. You move politics. I move the blade."
The two men stared at each other. Not as allies. Not as friends. But like two predators who'd chosen the same prey.
Yaskar broke the silence:
"If I can't control Giotto as you say... I'd rather see him dead. If that creature can't wear a leash—then he is what you claim."
Kaien chuckled. A dry, hollow sound.
"The heavens do not forgive, prince. They only watch.
And sometimes… they drop fire."
This was a pact of Ink and Blood.
To be continued...