Yamamoto sat in the expensive black car with the toned windows and looked at an envelope he was holding in his hands. The car was parked in a dark alley somewhere in Italy.
He sighed for surely the tenth time when he once again read the text that was written on the envelope with a big handwriting in red.
"…to Yamamoto Takeshi…"
He bent forward and put the envelope on the passenger seat. Then he started the car and drove away from the alley in a dangerous speed.
Other cars, houses, trees, people and the rest of the town flew past the window like a big blurry mess. Car wheels screeched and people screamed and pressed themselves the house walls when he drove forward on the smaller streets in town.
About this time he was already chased by the police. He had been chased by them before so he knew what to do to not get caught, but it was tricky.
The sound of the police sirens got higher and higher and Yamamoto looked in the rear-view mirror to check his situation.
"So they're getting more and more and closer and closer?"
He increased the speed and the wheels screeched when he drove around a corner and in to one more of those dark alleys there are so many of in Italy. He swung around another corner and then into an open garage. When the car was in the door closed and leaved the empty alley as an empty alley.
The garage was camouflaged, you should only be able to find it if you knew exactly where it was.
Yamamoto heard the police cars drive past when he changed clothes. Off with the baseball-jacket, the jeans and the old worn out vans. And on with a black suit and black shiny shoes.
The now changed man opened the baggage of the car and took out a bag for baseball-bats, throw it over his shoulder and continued his journey walking.
After twenty minutes when he was halfway, he takes a break in a park. Yamamoto was on his way to one of the benches when someone slaps him on the back and after that throws an arm around his shoulder.
"Yo, Yamamoto!" The greeting came from the man beside him, a man with white short hair, a scar on his forehead and wrapped hands.
"Ryohei? Shouldn't you be in London with the Varia?" Yamamoto asked.
"No, that's next week! You then, shouldn't you be visiting Japan with Sawada and 'Octopus-head'?" Ryohei answered.
"I really wanted to but I got one of those envelopes again." Yamamoto said with a sigh.
"That's so EXTREMELY typical. You think you'll make it this time?"
"I must because I can't stand this much longer."
But Ryohei didn't listen. "You don't want to come along with me then? I'm off to Kyoto to participate in an EXTREME boxing tournament. After that I'm driving down to Namimori to hang with the gang."
Yamamoto hesitated. He really wanted to go back to his hometown, he haven't been there for eight years. But the mission, he must complete the mission.
"Ryohei, I must turn down your offer. Good luck with the tournament and send my greetings to everybody."
Yamamoto was just about to get going when he realised something.
"By the way, have you stopped using sport-tape on your nose?" He thought it was a little weird. As long as he had known the boxer he always had it on.
"No, I haven't. Why'd you asked?"
"You don't have it right now."
"Oh, I haven't?" The white haired guy took up some white tape from his pocket and put some on his nose. "I must have forgotten it to the EXTREME!!!" He shouted the last word with his arms stretched out to the sun.
A half hour later Yamamoto is in front of the big mansion. There's guards outside the gate but he easily got past without them noticing him.
Five minutes later he's running out of the house with the baseball bag in his hands. The guards try to stop him but they falls unconscious to the ground when he hits them in their heads with the bag.
Now Yamamoto has to hurry.
He runs all the way back to the garage. There he change the number plate on the car so that the police won't recognise him.
He drives calm and carefully but fast back to the alley in witch he started. He gets out of the car and goes into the house across the street. His home. When he's in the living room he takes of the bag he has been wearing the whole day and opens it. Inside is Shigure Kintoki, a bloody sword.
Yamamoto takes up a towel and wipes of the red liquid.
"Finally I've done it and I never need to do it again."
In the age of twenty two Yamamoto Takeshi, rain guardian in the Vongola mafia, have killed one person.