Fon shifted on his feet as the water streamed past the canoe, peering (and failing to see much) in the fog as the old fisherman guided him towards some unknown destination. Their boat creaked beneath them, a low, mournful sound that complemented the gray and misty skies.
War. The old man had spoken of warâand a place called Actuality. Fighting made him think of the Acrobaleno Battlesâand his eyes drifted to his wristwatch, where the numbers sat stubbornly at zero. They hadnât changed since heâd woken up, even though he was sure the matches were supposed to start todayâŠ
Well, whatever it was, heâd find out the details when they reached this town. Perhaps track down his fellow Acrobaleno, if they were around, and figure out what was going on.
He abruptly collapsed to his feet when he stepped onto dry land. As an Acrobaleno, Fon constantly felt the flow of Storm Flames within him, but nowâ
ânow it felt as if someone had stoppered up his Flames and sealed them off, leaving himâŠcold and empty. And strangely weak, as if he really was no more than a two-year-old toddler. Clumsy fingers fumbled for his pacifier and clutched it feeblyâit was still red, and warmth radiated from its depths. But the  Storm Flames inside it, like his own, were tantalizingly out of reach. Disturbed, Fon turned to demand answers from the fishermanâbut the old man had already left, his boat taking him back into the mists.
He managed to crawl to his feet, painfully slow, and shook his head at the red-faced monkey chittering worriedly by his side.
âIâll be fine, Lichi,â Fon murmured, thankful that he could, at least, still speak normally. âJust give me a moment.â
After a brief rest to adjust himself to his newer, weaker body, Fon made his way to the so-called âofficeâ, nearly getting trampled by horses and people while crossing the street. He was not only weaker, but slower as well, and toddled more than walked.
The wait was long (made longer by others who kept trying to cut him in line) and people working there had been exceedingly unhelpful, first ignoring him entirely until he kicked their ankles to get their attention, then mistaking him for a lost child. When Fon finally straightened matters out (with help from Lichi, who had climbed up an officialâs pant leg to tug at his hair), theyâd only explained the basics before handing over an onyx sash for his faction, Yaoguai.
It was far too long for his arm, so after a pause, one man awkwardly offered to tie it around his waist like a belt. And then theyâd patted his head and sent him off on his way, refusing to answer any of his questions.
Heâd eventually worked his way to the second floor balcony of a local tea shop, after accumulating a fine selection of bruises and near-death experiences just from walking around town, to survey his new surroundings.
It looked a bit like ancient China, with the architecture and the people, and Fon wondered if this was another one of Rebornâs elaborate setups to train the young Vongola heir. But no, that made no sense, and besidesâhe hadnât met anyone he knew since entering this town.
He needed more intel. And for that, he needed to branch outâexplore, talk to people, make connections. Not so easy when you were only about 1-foot tall. Peering below, Fon observed the multitude of people walking about, and honed in on someone that looked promising.
He waved at Lichi, and the monkey dutifully climbed atop his head, holding tight to Fonâs hair. Then, the baby worked himself past the balconyâs railings to stand at the very edge.
Below, the target heâd marked was walking closer and closer to the tea shop. Soon they would be directly underneath him. Fon paused to take in a deep breath, feeling the gentle breeze playing about his hair.
Then he opened his arms, and let himself fall.
