Sincerity wasn't a real token of Sawada Tsunayoshi's family business; it was more of a liability.
If one thing was to be a common sincerity amongst all peoples of the world, it would be a single fact that cannot be denied by any man with a soul: the first time you have sex with someone, it is by far the most enticing, erotic, clumsy-yet-professionally passionate thing to ever happen to a person. It would stick in your mind forever as the two of you locked together in carnal bliss, with rainbows of elastic ecstasy rolling over you as you made love to the sound of the moonlight and the sunrays that embrace the planet you were connected upon. Sawada Tsunayoshi could mark his first time with a woman; it was a murky September at her house when they were just little lads when compared to the other newly initiated lovers of the time. She peppered him with kisses and wishes of the wicked successes in his future as a mafia father, the boss of the Vongola that he oh-so-hated to be associated with, even with his friends backing him up. He was scrawny but forming in shape, just like her, as he fumbled his hands and touched her slightly while he looked for some place to go to forget he was even here, that he was even doing this. But, eventually, his primordial lust took him for a joy-ride that would last longer than those twenty-odd minutes of awkward grunts and tight-walling; this moment with this woman of his would go on for so long that he would only wake out of it years later, long after he had separated his shaking frame from her gasping, pheromone-consumed body.
God, did he wish he could remember her last name. Tsunayoshi, or simply 'Tsuna' as he would have it, was egged into this by not only the dirty mind of a growing teenager, but also by a love-stricken girl named Something Haru (or 'Haru Something' if going by the Western Standards), who would rather put on a mountain of make-up and costume-art then go out and gossip or squeal about boys. No, rather, she would follow the boy she liked around until he would get the hint, or she would take matters into her own hands. That's what made her an asset as well as a concern; she could be submissive in your arms at one point, and taking all you had out of you in the next. Nice gal. Real charmer.
Still can't remember her name.
Afterwards, say, two days after, she came for him again, and so he came unto her. He whined and hissed and moaned at his newfound booty-call, and did so for the other five or so times, but he never pushed her away; it was like a calling that he had never seen before, and one that any boy his age could only hope for. Judging by the average girl at the time, Something Haru wasn't that bad to look at. Sure, she whined like a harpy and was as useful as a sack of potatoes going up a steep hill, but that was better than the bimbos and the overly tanned banshees floating around at the local malls looking up on the latest Whore's Monthly freshly translated from American English into Japanese. On the bright side was the fact that even though she was as dumb as a doorbell and as weird as a set of chimes clattering in a silent wind, she still put the effort forward to be a better person in the end, and she even swore on the blood in her body that she would readily die for Tsuna, and would do anything as his Madonna.
God, shouldn't he know her last name?