Ciabatta

“Cowards,” you teased. That did it. “Alright,” Prosciutto said smoothly, rolling his sleeves just slightly. “Let’s see how long you last.” Pesci panicked immediately. “W-Wait, aren’t we taking this too far-?!” Too late. The moment you stepped into the open space, it was chaos. You barely had time to brace before someone grabbed you “Got you-!”

“FORMAGGIO-?!”

He laughed as he tried to hoist you up, clearly underestimating your balance. Big mistake. You twisted, using his momentum against him and flipped him straight onto his back. The room froze. Then exploded.

“OH-!” Melone clapped, delighted. “Did you see that?!” Formaggio groaned from the floor. “…I let you do that.”

“Sure you did.”

“Move.” Ghiaccio stepped in next, already cracking his neck like this was a death match instead of a game. “Try not to cry when you lose,” he snapped. “You’re already mad and we haven’t started.”

“I’M NOT MAD-”

He lunged. Fast. Too fast. You barely dodged, grabbing his arm as he passed and trying to throw him. Keyword: trying. Because Ghiaccio did not budge. “…Oh,” you said. “…Oh?” he echoed. You were immediately tackled. “GHIACCIO-!”

“YOU STARTED THIS-!” The two of you hit the ground in a mess of limbs, him trying to pin your shoulders while you shoved at his face to keep him back. “Get OFF-!”

“Stay DOWN-!”

“Your elbow is in my rib-!”

“GOOD-!”

“THAT’S NOT HOW THIS GAME WORKS!”

“Fascinating,” Illuso murmured from the side, watching like this was a social experiment. Melone leaned closer “Who do you think will win?” his eyes watching between you both “Neither,” Illuso said. “They’re both too stubborn.” You somehow managed to shove Ghiaccio off just enough to roll away, scrambling to your feet. “Next-!” you huffed. “Me.” Risotto. Oh. Oh no.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t posture. He just stepped forward, calm, composed… terrifyingly steady. “…You sure about this?” you asked. A faint smirk. “You suggested it.” And then, he moved.

You didn’t even fully register how fast he closed the distance before his hand caught your wrist, twisting just enough to throw you off balance, but instead of slamming you down, he redirected. Controlled. Measured. You ended up pinned but not hurt. “…That was unfair,” you muttered. “You’re still conscious,” he replied. “Be grateful.”

“MY TURN!” Melone practically skipped in, eyes sparkling like this was the best day of his life. “This is going to be so fun!” It was not. Because Melone fought like someone who had no sense of personal space whatsoever. You tried to grapple him. He spun. You tried to push him back, he latched on like a koala. “Melone, why are you like this?!”

“Like what?~” he countered “STOP- HOLDING-ONTO- ME-!” you complained as he gave a teasing smile “I’m winning!~” your eyebrow twitched in annoyance as he continued to smirk “THIS ISN’T EVEN A REAL TECHNIQUE!”

“Should we help?” Pesci whispered nervously. “No,” Prosciutto said calmly “This is educational.” Pesci raised an eyebrow as his brother observer you both “For who?!” Pesci questioned “For us.” Eventually, you pried Melone off with sheer determination and mild desperation, stumbling back with a breathless laugh. “Okay, no more- no more-”

“Still standing?” Prosciutto noted, impressed. “Barely.” you huffed “…Then finish it properly.” You didn’t even see Sorbet and Gelato move until “Gotcha!”

“WAIT- TWO AT ONCE IS CHEATING!” Too late. They absolutely teamed up. One grabbed your arms, the other your legs “GUYS?!” you screamed “Sorry~!” Gelato laughed. “Not really,” Sorbet added. You struggled, laughing despite yourself as they tried, and failed, to coordinate lifting you. “Left- no, YOUR left!”

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT-!”

“HOW?!” And then, they both lost balance. All three of you hit the ground in a tangled heap. Silence. Then, laughter. Even Ghiaccio cracked a grin. “…Pathetic.” you whipped your head towards him “You’re just mad you didn’t win,” you shot back. “I COULD’VE WON!”

“You were literally yelling the whole time!”

“I WAS FOCUSED!”

By the end of it, you were sprawled on the floor, exhausted, surrounded by equally worn-out, but very satisfied, assassins. “...Again tomorrow?” you asked weakly. “No,” Prosciutto said immediately. “Yes,” Melone said at the exact same time. “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” Ghiaccio snapped. Risotto just exhaled quietly, shaking his head.