Prospero contented himself with quietly listening while the others talked and taking a quick scan of the note as the news of Cyril's aunt's kidnapping spread around the group. The note was a nasty piece of work, all taunts and idiocy as far as he could see. The fact that the Tenth Vongola Boss had decided to make this a challenge should probably have seemed a lot more messed up, but it did make some sense to the young magician. If Naoto's little part of the [i]Famiglia[/i] couldn't protect itself against a single assassin, how was it supposed to be capable of leading the whole organization? If Naoto were already the leader, an attack on the family of one of his guardians would not only be an expected threat, it would be exactly the dirty kind of challenge he would be required to respond to with full strength, or else risk the entire family looking weak and losing power. [i]Better have us sink or swim now while the impact of us losing would be relatively small, guess...and if Naoto fails well...[/i]

He would have thought to himself that if Naoto failed there could always be some other candidate to take his place, that it was just understandable pragmatism, no different than anything else he'd come to know in his short time hunting through the criminal underworld. But Prospero had cast his lot in with Naoto the second he'd agreed to become his Guardian, hadn't he? So if Naoto lost this challenge and died, all of his efforts would be for nothing. As things stood, Naoto was his best chance. Speaking of which, there was the matter of that Birra assassin...

[i]He could be the one considering his age and the notes about all those murders...if he isn't the one he might know who is, scum sticks to scum after all. In that case, the best way to know will be beating it out of him, and if he is the right one well even more reason to become strong. Coming to Trespiano, allying myself with these people...but I thought it would still take years...[/i]"...Could he really be so close?"

Prospero hadn't even realized he had said anything out loud, or that he'd clenched his fists and was now shaking violently from head-to-toe with a very odd gleam in his eyes. At the moment he wasn't even seeing the others anymore, just the holographic image of Vicente and a scene from years and years ago, burning into his brain.