Yamamoto liked to believe this mafia was a very elaborate game. The guns were all advanced toys, the blood wasn't really his blood, and the flames were all part of the toys. He liked to believe the animals were called by someone to their sides for their fake battles.
It had to be an elaborate game.
Tsuna was too sweet and kind to be the next leader of the world's most powerful mafia. Tsuna wouldn't have to walk down a path full of battles, pain, and blood. Tsuna hadn't held his hand and cried broken heartedly, apologizing for getting him involved in this elaborate game.
His father wasn't murdered.
His father was deceased no doubt, but his old man was just that, old. Yamamoto was born late into his parent's lives. A change of life child. His dad was old. If someone died in this game, really died like his father, then this elaborate game became real.
If this game was real then his scar wasn't from tripping, it was when he narrowly avoided being shot. Tsuna really did kill that man pointing a gun at him. Tsuna wasn't laughing so hard he cried, he was just crying tortured by another sin.
This had to be an elaborate game.
Or Tsuna was really dying from six gunshot wounds to the chest.
It can't be anything other then a game or else the tears in his eyes are real.
Tsuna was cold in his arms, slowly stiffening as rigor mortis set in.
Now he knew it wasn't a game, but it was too late.