"So let me get this straight. Instead of talking this through like trained professionals and deciding an heir based off talent, you're sending me to Japan to train your advisor's kid?"
"Hmm, yes, that sounds about right."
"You," Reborn decided, "are out of your mind."
Timoteo sighed, almost like he was expecting this. What a shocker. "So he might not be the best choice, but as far as I'm concerned, the Vongola has gotten too big, too bad. This child is a civilian who will resist the violent ways and—hopefully—change things for the better."
"We're in the Mafia," Reborn reminded him, unimpressed. "Violence is kind of our thing." Reborn was a hitman, for god's sake.
"We were a vigilante group."
"That still involved violence."
"You will train him, though," Timoteo said, folding his hands in his lap, simultaneously leaning back against his chair's back and raising an eyebrow.
"You're insane," Reborn pointed out again.
"You're still listening."
Fine, if that's how he wanted to play it. Not the best choice, he says? Reborn would make sure this kid becomes the best Mafia boss the old man has ever seen just to spite him.