For the naturally beautiful, we desire abundance, so that the rose of beauty may never fade.
Sonnet, Shakespeare
The brown-haired boy gazed at the sky in the distance. There was no sun, no moon, no stars, no clouds... Nothing at all. The sky was empty, and the faint sound of wind echoed between heaven and earth. A trace of hesitation passed through the boy’s dark brown eyes.
The golden-haired, golden-eyed man leaned against a red chaise longue. The orange flame on his forehead flickered, seeming both warm and destructive. He patiently waited for the boy’s answer, though he seemed to have known it all along. A smile touched his lips, yet somehow it looked sorrowful.
Some roads can only be walked alone.
The road is too long, the night too dark. No one can stay by your side all the way to the end.
Child, you must be strong. Everyone has to grow up.
The sky embraces more than wind, rain, thunder, sunshine, mist, and clouds. Countless stars and countless destinies also weigh upon you.
The boy looked at the man. “First Generation, I’ve made up my mind...”
I know.
I know the road will be hard.
But I also know that to protect what matters, I need power.
Power strong enough to overcome even loneliness.
A ring marked [Vongola] rested on the boy’s hand. A spark of fire flashed through the darkness.
[This is a collection of short stories]
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