Lord Dio’s bath chamber was much less luxurious than the Maestro’s, but Lucciola remembered it as being very clean, full of straight lines and efficient surfaces.
He would never think to make use of it himself of course, but once in a while Dio would grab hold of his arm - one hand on the wrist and one on the shoulder,
just as the sparring teacher had shown them - and pull him in anyway.
After the initial shock, Lucciola always marveled at his strength - he was one year older than his master, yet in that lithe body was a force much powerful than his own.
When they sparred he would almost always lose, and not simply because he had to respect the difference in their social status.
The last time Lucciola found himself suddenly soaking wet, Dio laughed as usual, holding his sides. “My lord is becoming more and more adept by the day,” he said, wiping the water from his eyes.
“You’re just too slow, Lucciola~!” the silver-haired boy exclaimed before turning around. “Wash my back for me? I like how you do it...”
Read the rest via the link in the description!