Cleaners are a certain type of assassin that also specialize in removing incriminating evidence. I doubt the Varia actually does this, but we're going to pretend they do for now.


People who worked in the Underworld did business in black.

On the morning of their meeting with the Vongola, Soko stood beside Toko in the mirror carefully dusting her cheeks with blush, dressed in an identical cocktail dress as her partner. Toko, who thought about everything too much, once told her that one dresses for a funeral when they dress for business. Soko had never really understood the point-when she worked alone and meeting in person was absolutely necessary, she dressed casually, t-shirts and jeans rather than dresses and high heels. But Toko had insisted after their partnership began that making a good impression on clients was essential to maintaining an image.

Soko took her advice because she defaulted to her on all matters of this nature. She was better at handling people, and it wasn't just the language barrier that made Soko hesitant to speak up when they went anywhere. Toko could read anyone and know when they weren't being honest. It seemed strange, since Soko was the one from Japan where more went unspoken than not, yet it was Toko the American who was better at spotting to deception. That isn't to say that Soko was trusting-she didn't trust anyone but Toko and looked for dishonesty everywhere, but Toko found it with pinpoint accuracy.

"Funeral clothes," Toko reminded her that morning, pausing to apply lipstick, "Everyone does it this way."

"As long as you do the talking," she said, "What's our plan?"

"We go meet our new employer."

Soko frowned. "That's it?"

"That's it?" her partner parroted with a laugh, "There's no other family I'd rather take jobs from. This is a great opportunity for us. Do you know much about the Vongola?"

"Only as much as anyone else. Why?"

"You'll see."


The hit man-who introduced himself as Reborn-was waiting outside with a car and a sly grin. "Ciaossu," he greeted, kissing the top of Toko's hand. "May I escort you ladies to the Vongola compound?"

"Grazie, signore. You may," she said, climbing into the open passenger side door. Reborn opened the door for the seat behind her for Soko and smiled, though she still hesitated before getting in.

"How long have you been in Italy?" he asked conversationally as he started the car and pulled onto the street.

"Almost four years now." Soko glanced out the window and watched the countryside pass by in a blur, mountains and vineries and traditional homesteads. It reminded her of home in a way, of the green rolling hills and snow-capped mountains of Hokkaidou. Seeing Reborn's eyes watching her in the rear-view mirror made her stiffen and she realized he was speaking to her. "Pardon?" she asked.

"I asked where you're from," he repeated, "Quite a few of Vongola's current members are Japanese. You might share a hometown with someone."

"Ah. Sapporo. On Hokkaidou. Very far north."

"Hm." Reborn's eyes returned to the road and Soko exhaled. "I don't think anyone in the family is from Hokkaidou. That's interesting."

He began speaking to Toko again, and Soko's attention was drawn back to the trees they passed. For all the years she'd been in Italy, she'd never taken the time to appreciate what was outside of the cities. She knew the moment of introspection was only because she felt left out, unable to keep up with the conversation in the front seat, but she wondered if the feeling might linger and if she might be drawn back out to the countryside. Then again, the familiarity made her reminisce on days gone by, and Soko prided herself on not being overly sentimental, so she turned to look ahead at the road and the Vongola compound coming up in the distance.


Don Vongola was Japanese and quite young, and Soko wasn't sure what to make of that. When Reborn had mentioned that some of his men shared her home country, she hadn't realized that the boss was included. He greeted them first in Italian, then in English and Japanese, smiling warmly the whole time. The meeting room was spacious and everything from the long table to the upholstery on the chairs and the curtains looked like it cost a fortune. As Toko had predicted, everyone present wore black suits, and Soko was suddenly glad that she'd listened to her partner and didn't look out of place.

The boss sat on the far end of the table closest to the window. On his left were three men whom she presumed to be his guardians from the matching rings they wore. The two closest to him were Italian, but the last was Japanese, and he gave both of them a grin as they approached the table. On the other side were two more men, one blond and one with dark hair and scarring on one side of his face. It was the latter of the two that caught her interest; he wore his jacket open over his shoulders and surveyed the room with little interest, paying no attention to neither her nor Toko. Though she knew better than to jump to conclusions, Soko was no stranger to the various roles of organized crime groups, and the look in this man's eyes reminded her of a cleaner.

The men on the left were guardians, and the ones on the right were not tied as directly to the family. Soko understood that they were meant to sit on the right side of the table, but she let Toko take a seat first to put one more space between her and the scarred man.

Don Vongola waited until everyone was seated to begin the meeting. He started with politics, something about current government offices and civil unrest that Soko couldn't quite catch. She'd tried to pay attention, but she missed half of the words and found herself examining the assembled Vongola instead. The man across from her, the Japanese one, was tall with a small scar of his own on his chin. Of everyone there, he looked the most familiar to her, reminding her of several kyoudai she'd met when she was young. He looked safe, she decided, if she needed to ask someone for something. The other two were Italian, one with dark, curled hair and the other with silver.

Soko glanced to her own side and froze when she met the cleaner's eyes, realizing he'd been watching her stare at the others. She averted her eyes to the table, and then to the boss when she heard him call her name. "Do you have an opinion on the matter, Soko?" he asked with something like sympathy. He probably noticed her eyes wandering, as well. "Everyone here speaks Japanese, so we can switch to that if it would make you more comfortable."

Mortified by the silence in the room and all of the eyes on her, Soko quickly answered, "Thank you, Don Vongola. My partner may speak for both of us."

He looked almost disappointed by her answer and she hoped she hadn't said something that would get them killed, but the meeting resumed and she inwardly sighed in relief.

It ended quickly enough, and Don Vongola allowed Soko and Toko to stay if they wanted to get to know the others. Toko caught Soko by the arm before she could get to her feet and communicated with only her eyes that they should do just that, and Soko forced a smile and nodded. Her partner moved immediately towards the blond and the boss as well as the silver-haired guardian who refused to leave his side. Though she'd intended to speak with the Japanese guardian, Soko was stopped by the only man remaining at the table, the one she'd noticed earlier. "Were you able to understand anything?" he asked in fluent Japanese.

She hesitated to answer. "Only a little," she said quietly, eyeing her partner out of the corner of her eye.

"Speak up next time. Vongola's a pushover, and he's sympathetic to his people."

Soko was startled by the way he addressed his boss but simply nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but Don Vongola chose that moment to come over and join the conversation. "What do you think so far?" he asked expectantly, switching to their native tongue, "Is there anything I can do to help you feel more at home?"

"No," she said, then quickly amended, "Thank you. I'm fine."

Again, the boss seemed distressed by her answer. "Well," he said, disappointment quickly replaced by a smile, "I see you've already met Xanxus. He's in charge of the Varia assassination and cleaner squad, which will serve as backup should you run into trouble on a job." Soko must have been unable to hide her shock because he continued, "Is there a problem?"

"I...no..."

Worry crossed Don Vongola's face but he hid it with further pleasantries and conversation. He didn't push the matter any further.


Reborn brought them back to the apartment and told them that Don Vongola would contact them personally should their services be required. Soko stood on the balcony and watched his car disappear over the rolling hills, thinking of the Italian countryside and her childhood. "Could you help me get out of this?" she heard Toko call and came back inside to find her partner sitting on the edge of the bed. "What did you think?" Soko climbed onto the bed and moved Toko's hair aside to unzip the dress. When she didn't say anything, Toko turned to her. "I think the boss was worried about you."

She didn't answer. When Toko reached to help her with her dress, Soko pushed her hands away and unzipped it on her own.

"You've been tight-lipped today," her partner said, adopting the tone of a mother, "Did something happen at the meeting?"

"Nothing in particular."

Toko sat on her knees and took Soko's hands into her own, squeezing reassuringly. These sorts of things used to bother Soko, but she came to appreciate the attention. She had never really known her own mother, anyway, and Toko was an acceptable surrogate, though they looked so different.

"The man with the scars," Soko murmured, "The one who sat to Don Vongola's right."

"The cleaner? What about him?"

"In the yakuza," she said quietly, "Cleaners take care of targets, as well as whoever made the mistake to necessitate their involvement." Toko was silent. "That is the man who will kill us if we make a mistake."

"I don't think he will," Toko said, but Soko only shook her head. "He won't," she insisted, "Because we won't make any mistakes."

A few years ago when they had just met, Soko was young and brash enough that she would have agreed. But she thought of the meeting and of the hit man's warning, "We are only human." Sooner or later, every life ended, but for people in their line of work, it was always sooner.


I also don't think cleaners actually function in this way in the real yakuza...but they do in manga sometimes.