Chapter Text
He was never a fan of the smell of tobacco and stale beer that clung to the walls of the bar on Corso Napoli. And yet, there he was again, after all these years without seeing it.
After all these years avoiding it.
The Sicilian Sun was like any other bar in the neighborhood—small, dark, with walls covered in pictures of soccer teams and Catholic saints staring down at the customers, like they were either judging them or feeling sorry for them. If it weren’t for the bartender, who just kept getting older, he’d say time had stopped in this place.
His face was burning by the time he let out a sigh, easing the tension in his shoulders. He could’ve avoided that bottle. He could’ve avoided that fight too. Damn his impulses.
Next to him was his cousin Vinnie, a yokai with a sharp jaw and restless eyes. He moved like he was in enemy territory, even though he swore he knew the place well.
"Relax, Leo, this is a piece o’ cake," Vinnie muttered, scratching his nose nervously while waiting for some supposed buyer interested in his white crap. Leonardo barely listened. His mind was stuck on yesterday afternoon—when he had barely set foot in the Distretto and already found himself stopping a robbery. Almost ended up knocked out on the pavement. It had been instinct, more reflex than some sense of justice. But it didn’t take long for him to attract the wrong kind of attention.
He took one last look around the bar just as two tall, broad-shouldered men walked in, their steps heavy against the wooden floor. They wore dark suits, the kind that didn’t belong in a dump like this. But what really stood out was the cold look in their sharp eyes.
"You," one of them said, a lizard yokai, motioning toward Leonardo with his chin. "Come with us."
Before he could react, he felt a strong grip on his shoulders. He tried to shake them off, but the other guy was faster, landing a punch to his ribs hard enough to knock the air out of him.
"The fuck…?" Vinnie took a step back, fear written all over his pale face.
Leonardo met his eyes and understood immediately—these weren’t just any guys. They were here on behalf of someone powerful.
The room at the end of the hallway was small, with bare walls and a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, swaying slightly with every movement in the room. In the center, a worn-out table and two chairs took up most of the space. The air was thick, charged with something more than just humidity.
Leonardo was shoved inside and forced into a chair. For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence, except for the low hum of the lamp. Then, from the shadows, a tall, lean figure emerged, dressed in a sharp black suit.
Donatello.
The man standing in front of him wasn’t the same one he remembered. Donatello had always been reserved, even as a kid. But now there was something else in him—something dangerous. His dark eyes held an abyss of unreadable thoughts. His face, barely lit, was a mask of impenetrable calm.
"Leonardo." Donatello's voice was soft, but each word fell like a hammer. "What are you doing here?"
Leonardo tried to keep his composure, though he could feel sweat pooling on his back.
"I came with my cousin, Vinnie. I didn’t know this was your place."
Donatello raised an eyebrow—a barely perceptible gesture, but one that spoke volumes.
"Vinnie?" he repeated, with a hint of mockery.
"The kid can barely walk without tripping, and you expect me to believe he brought you here by accident?"
Leonardo clenched his teeth, forcing himself to look indifferent.
"I’ve got nothing to do with whatever it is you think, Donnie. I’m just surviving, like everyone else."
For a moment, Donatello’s face seemed to relax, as if something in that answer struck a chord deep inside him. But it lasted only an instant. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the table, his figure casting a long shadow over Leonardo.
"I heard you had an incident yesterday." His words were careful, measured.
"You beat up two of my men."
Leonardo tensed. He hadn’t considered that possibility.
"I didn’t know they were yours. They were harassing a woman, so…"
"So you thought you were a hero?" Donatello’s laugh was low, almost inaudible.
"This isn’t a world for heroes, Leonardo. You know that better than anyone."
Silence fell between them again. Leonardo knew he was walking on thin ice, but he also knew he couldn’t show weakness. Not here, not in front of Donatello.
"Look, if this is a problem, I’ll leave. I don’t want trouble."
Donatello stared at him, his eyes searching for something—maybe a truth only he could see. Finally, he straightened up, folding his arms.
"You’re not leaving. Not yet."
Leonardo swallowed hard, his heart pounding.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you and I are going to have a longer conversation. But not today." Donatello gestured toward the men who had brought Leonardo in.
"Take him to the alley. Let him earn his second chance."
Before he could protest, they lifted him from the chair and dragged him out of the room. As they pulled him down the hallway, Leonardo caught Donatello’s voice, low and deliberate.
"Welcome back to the neighborhood, Leo. I hope this time you understand the rules."
In the alley, Leonardo was thrown to the ground, his body hitting the cold, wet concrete. The barrage of punches and kicks that followed was predictable, but that didn’t make it any less painful. He lay there for a moment, struggling to breathe, while Donatello’s words echoed in his mind.
He had expected the mission to be difficult. He had expected the neighborhood to be hostile. But he had never expected that the mafia boss he was supposed to destroy would be someone he once considered a brother.