“An enemy of the enemy is a friend.”

Perhaps the most revolutionary incident in the history of the magical underworld mafias was the union between the Japanese Izanami and the Italian Visconti mafias at the start of the twentieth century. The Viscontis were known to be ruthless, never sparing anybody who was a thorn in their path, while the Izanamis chose peace and love over war. But when a series of murders of the members of the family threatened both the Izanamis and the Viscontis, a treaty was signed. The Visconti daughter would be betrothed to the Izanami heir thus uniting the mafias. But it was not enough, the Calderossis were growing ever more powerful and war was not bringing success. After fair consideration, the Viscontis agreed to the Izanamis’ proposition and instead of war, a friendly hand was moved forward.

The Calderossis had been mafias since before the Viscontis but the newer generations had done less to keep it running as powerful as before. Friendship soon blossomed however, and the three mafias became very successful. The Calderossis, however, still insecure of their position, suggested that friendship should turn into relationship. Power-hungry, they wouldn’t take no for an answer and so, Akira Izanami was married to Antonio Calderossi. Now secure enough in their position, the Calderossis started taking decisions without consulting the others, and the Viscontis and Izanamis could barely do anything. But they had a powerful weapon, Akira. Late-night meetings, conferences, discussions with half drunk men, Akira would spy on it all, reporting back to her parents.

It took years, but finally, a balance was found. Visconti's son had chosen to leave the mafia to get into business, and his family carried the legacy with pride. Akira and Antonio, although married for the underworld business, had grown fond of each other and wanted to spend more and more time with the other, so they stepped down from the throne. Riches were in plenty and being on top wasn’t required, they could easily provide a very luxurious life to at least two generations. Akira proved to be useful to the Calderossi mafia, strategizing against any minor threats and bringing success. Soon enough, Dante and Serena were born.

Siblings? Friends? Confidants? Dante and Serena had been stuck to the hip since their childhood, never having any sort of sibling rivalry. Whatever they did, they did together. Their childhood, however, was deeply influenced by the mafia. Antonio had plans of early retirement and he couldn’t wait to let his son take the reins. This, along with the pressure of being good at studies would prove to exhaust him. This propelled Serena to start learning about the mafia as well. They would grow up to handle the mafia as co-leaders.

Celestina Arese had attended the same university as Dante, so when Antonio suggested Celestina to be Dante’s wife, he had no objections. Celestina would let Dante handle the mafia, spending her time either singing or fighting, a true Veela. The manor they lived in was divided in three wings, the East, the Middle and the West. Dante and Celestina lived in the West Wing, and Serena lived in the East with her husband Marcello Berlusconi, who had been disowned for not marrying a vampire like himself. Eventually, Stefano Armani Calderossi was born, and Dante doted on him. Stefano was given everything Dante didn’t have, a normal childhood, no pressure, freedom. And Stefano used it to become the best at whatever he did.

Mafia business wasn’t imposed on Stefano early on. He was first allowed to become an exemplary student, expected to prove himself intelligent, disciplined and worthy of the legacy he would one day inherit. Two years passed, and another son, Kenji Visconti Calderossi was born, named in honour of the original Viscontis. He was different from Stefano, more light in spirit, more carefree. Like his brother, he excelled academically. Teachers doted on him and a lot of the times he received extra credit purely for his devilish grin and effortless charisma. Dante and Celestina never openly compared their sons, yet the distinction was apparent. Stefano was given authority, Kenji was considered cute. The future of the mafia was shaped around Stefano, Kenji was allowed to observe, but never truly asked to be involved. He was the son who did not need to prove himself, because no one had ever asked him to.

Two sons, quite skilled, a mansion that spread across acres and a successful mafia leader, and still, Celestina couldn’t help but mourn the absence of a daughter who might inherit her Veela legacy. However, four years later, her dream was fulfilled with the birth of Violetta and Irida, twins with Violetta being older by merely six minutes. Irida was the youngest in the family. She grew up surrounded by love and protection, her childhood never a still moment. The Veela blood in her veins sparked an interest in combat and being a mafia daughter meant access to a hefty amount of arsenal. She found her preference early: swords. Afternoons meant training with Violetta under their mother’s watchful gaze. Evenings were reserved for magical theory. She would only get to spend time with her siblings and cousins at night.

Enzo and Bianca, the cousins, were Serena’s offspring. Serena and Marcello lived in the same manor, occupying the opposite wing. Once a member of an Italian gang, Marcello had been banished for refusing to marry the same species as him, vampires. This meant that Enzo and Bianca Berlusconi were dhampirs. The six children spent their nights together in their wing of the manor, overseen by a housekeeper tasked with their care.

Celestina, as any Veela, had a very sweet voice, and singing was her strong suit, so she was overjoyed to see that Violetta was also deeply interested in honing her singing skills. Irida, though she had a pretty voice, would always prefer swordfighting, or any sort of combat for that matter, over singing. She fit Kenji’s shoes perfectly, loved and cared for, but never given attention. Stefano was the heir, Violetta was the perfect daughter, there was no role for her to fill. Naturally, despite Violetta and Irida being twins, she found herself closer to Kenji. Together, they had the freedom others did not. Neither was expected to be perfect. Kenji would tell Irida things she wasn’t supposed to know. And Irida would swear on her life never to tell anyone of her knowledge of said things.

The first five years of Irida’s life were happy ones. And then, everything changed. Kenji was sent to Japan to live with their aunt and uncle, Ichiro and Reina. The separation struck her harder than anybody realised. She was now not the Irida who would spend her time with cousins at night, or even learn magical theory. Her days became monotonous: eat, train, rest, sleep. And even her meals would be brought to her room by the housekeeper, and somehow, nobody seemed to notice that she was barely seen now. Dante and Celestina consumed by the demands of the mafia, Stefano already in Beauxbatons, Violetta buried in studying and vocal lessons. Enzo and Bianca were also kept busy by Serena and Marcello and Irida would be left all alone until her tenth birthday.

That would be the year that marked the beginning of her hatred for birthdays. Her parents had organized a celebration larger than any before, she assumed it would be because she would be attending Beauxbatons the following year. When she opened her gift box, however, she was greeted with a letter from Kenji, excitedly congratulating her and expressing his joy at the idea of them finally living together again. Confused, she would look up to see her parents’ expressions as they eagerly announced the surprise: she would be moving to Japan to live with her aunt and uncle as well. Rage blinded her and she lashed out, sending the cake crashing on to the floor. She stomped away, banging her door shut to not open it for the next four months.

The housekeeper brought her food and water, which Irida only accepted once she was alone. No one truly listened to her. They assumed she was simply upset about leaving. Celestina tried to speak to her during the first month, standing outside the door, pleading softly, but eventually she stopped. Violetta tried longer, but she, too, gave up. When Irida finally emerged after four months, it was only to ask her parents to send her to Japan. She had decided she would rather be with Kenji than stay where she felt unwanted. Two days later, she was transported to the Takahashi household, her belongings packed neatly into suitcases. She left nothing behind. No trace that she had ever lived in the manor. A special trunk carried her collection of weapons.

The Takahashi house was different, obviously, but Irida welcomed the change. Her arrival was celebrated by her aunt and uncle, Reina and Ichiro Takahashi, and her cousins Miyuki and Hana. Miyuki was the same age as Kenji, and she attended Mahoutokoro like him. Hana was the same age as Irida, and was excited to show Irida around. Kenji was different here, more disciplined but that only gave him more freedom, making him happier here than he was in Sicily. It warmed Irida’s heart to see him finally being happy. There was no comparison in this house, everybody was treated as an equal. Everybody noticed Irida’s quiet, distant nature but nobody complained. Hana got Irida to try gardening, and Irida actually enjoyed that. She would spend a lot of time in the gardens; and while Hana yapped continuously, Irida would provide the occasional nod or smile to show that she was listening.

Life here demanded more from her, and at times it irritated her. She was no longer waited on, no longer indulged. Still, she did not complain. Ichiro and Reina were already doing her a kindness by taking her in. Slowly, she began to warm to them. Her heart remained guarded, invisible walls still standing, but the Takahashis had managed to crack the first. Even so, Irida learned to pull away whenever she felt herself growing too close. Sicily had taught her that attachment only led to hurt.

Her next birthday in Kyoto was not celebrated. Kenji and Miyuki were already in Mahoutokoro, so Hana took Irida to explore Kyoto. They navigated through narrow streets, Hana dragging her from stall to stall, insisting she try everything. Irida would barely say anything, the memories of her last birthday still fresh in her mind, an open wound. She was grateful the Takahashis did not rub salt in it. Soon enough, Irida had spent a year in Japan and her letter of admittance to Mahoutokoro, along with Hana’s had arrived. The fact that the letter had been addressed to the Takahashis and not the Calderossis seemed to tick Irida. Again, blinded by emotions, she went to Ichiro and Reina and expressed her wish to not keep the name Irida or Calderossi. No ties to the Italian world. She would, henceforth, be called Akari Izanami Takahashi. A letter was written to the headmaster of Mahoutokoro to let them know of this. Her school supplies, and Hana’s would be bought in Tokyo, where the magical market was, and so, she would depart for Mahoutokoro to begin her journey as Akari.