『 THE GREAT SKY 』

                   But he was waiting. Waiting for a specific thing to appear. His gaze scanned the landscape below him, trying to catch a glimpse of honey-colored hair. But he’d seen nothing so far... not even a hint. It made Giotto frown, but he was patient. He’d wait for however long he needed to. Or, at least he thought, until another face came into the view of his hawk’s view. It made the Primo’s mouth curl downwards into a frown, forehead wrinkling. He hadn't expected to run into this individual, and definitely not looking like that. But chaos swam in the wake of the auburn-haired man’s footsteps, and Giotto couldn't allow this to continue. With a tilt of his body, the mafioso dove forward, ready to meet his adversary.

                   For a moment after Giotto’s feet touched the ground, he studied the other man before him, expression calm and cool. He’d never thought he’d have to fight this person, but he supposed he had no choice.

                   「♛ 」—» It’s not everyday that one discovers chocolate macchiatos, so the hot styrofoam cup cradled in Giotto’s hands seemed like a tiny miracle. Being from Italy, he knew all about good drinks, but this was... delicious. The manner of which he’d acquired it confused him, though. Wandering into a coffee shop, the mafioso had found himself the subject of the barista’s attention, and before long she’d given him a slow, red-lipped smile and shoved the cup into his hands. And now he sat on a bench outside, still wondering why exactly she’d given it to him. As an act of goodwill? A favor? He wasn’t sure. So it was his luck that a stranger passed before him, and pale fingers reached out to gently grasp the man’s cloak... just enough to get the others attention.

                   「♛ 」—» Tall figure leaned forward in curiosity towards the shelves of books, thin fingers trailing along the spines with an almost respectful touch. Giotto had always liked books, though with his job as the boss of the largest mafia famiglia, he didn't always have time to indulge in that particular hobby. Now, though, in this place, where all his responsibilities as the Vongola Primo had disappeared, Giotto now found himself in a much more free position. Which, in turn, brought him to the bookstore he'd found while walking the streets. Really, it was quaint. But there was just one problem...

                   「♛ 」—» Golden head tilted to the side as Giotto watched the girl tossing bird feed onto the rocks of the path, the rustle of feathers faint as ghosts as pigeons descended in a swarm to feed. It was kind of an amazing sight, seeing all those birds flock to peck at the small seeds, and the mafioso couldn't help but give a faint smile. It wasn't something he expected to see in a place like this, something so incredibly normal, so it felt to be almost of a relief to witness such a simple and innocent action.

                   「♛ 」—» A soft sigh escaped through pallid lips as flame-colored eyes surveyed the street before them, the groups of people milling along normally parting around the lone figure standing still with irritated mutters and venomous glances. Truly, though, they couldn't blame him for the sudden stopping and staring. This place was... foreign. Glass gleamed in every window, refracting the light and dazzling the streets beneath with silver beams that pierced the back of one's eyes. The street was perfectly level, and the buildings soared high above the man's head. It was an amazing sight, one that almost took his breath away. Giotto had seen many sights of great beauty in Italy, but never had he seen something as amazing and unfamiliar as the place he found himself in now. It made him feel almost overwhelmed.

                   A frown curled the side of the mafioso's mouth downward as his eyes swept the crowd, this time taking in the details of the abundance of people around him. They all seemed to be from entirely different places; different clothes, features, and some didn't even look human. It was like a child had thrown all his toy figures in together without seeing which went where. It was a rather surreal feeling, seeing all this different in the same place, and all of it completely unfamiliar.

                   Until suddenly, it wasn't. Orange eyes caught the glint of an almost-familiar shade of brown hair, the way it spiked like looking in a mirror. It made Giotto's eyes widen a fraction of an inch, head swinging around to seek out the figure of a teenage boy. He did look familiar. Who was...?