Authors Note:
Standard disclaimer applies whenever the question of ownership arises. KHR isn't mine.
Now as for this story, I am happy to note that I am taking my time thinking about how Tsuna and the others would meet and the delicate question of flames and its role in their lives. I cannot just NOT write about it—it wouldn't be right. So I am easing myself towards it. Sorry if I seem so uncertain, but as I mentioned before—I want to explore their humanity more than their collective 'super powers.' I am certainly curious about Reborn's inner monologue all throughout the story. On a side note though, I am eager to think about the other members of Tsuna's family.

11-09-2013 Update:
Final tweak of the parts I've written. Setting the stage for the next chapters featuring the training and the guardians. Crossing my fingers and hoping for luck.

2014 Update:
The work has slowed down considerably, I know. Real life can be as unforgiving as the harshest task master around. And to be honest—I kind of lost the voice that spoke to me regarding this story and it's only recently that I'm getting the faintest murmurs back.

2015:
Reading and re-reading. Still surprised to find out that words-when they feel like coming-comes like a torrential rain.

2017: What in the HELL was I on when I made this?

Chapter Ten:

TRATTARE CON IL DIAVOLO

"Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her: but once they are in hand,
He or She alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game."
Voltaire

TSUNAYOSHI

The long walk home was a familiar one; a journey he has made hundreds of times and in a hundred different frames of mind and states of being. He had gone through the same street, the same shortcuts, the same winding alleys and back ways and yet each and every single time it was different.

Though today certainly, was not an isolated case—he has been known to run back home a few times before—today just marked the one time he didn't do so while in tears, or covered in colorful, albeit well hidden bruises or scrapped and grazed from various small cuts and wounds or dripping from whatever foul matter his tormentors decided to decorate him in.

He was in the usual contemplative, sad frame of mind true, but at least he wasn't wearing any physical reminder of his misery. It certainly made the journey twice as easy—true, he has learned how to navigate even when half-blinded by pain but he much preferred introspection clouding his mind than numbing pain.

The way home at times could feel endless, it could be so long, so cold and so quiet…but today marked the first time he wasn't in pain while taking note of the conditions he always faced while trudging on back. He has that much to be thankful for and make for this rare occurrence one to remember. Especially since today also marked the one time he wasn't racing to reach the house but rather whiling away the minutes until he could arrive at a more considerate time.

He made himself take as many side routes as he could though, pacing his tread so as not to appear harried or worse—guilty—which he was in spite of his own decision to ditch school. Still, he couldn't afford to make one of the adults roaming around to take notice of him and ask what he was doing out so early in the day. Not that he was conspicuous in any shape or form. More often than not, he got overlooked and today, more than ever, he was grateful for that oft regrettable fact.

He took his time to breathe and take in the views afforded to him by his hastily conceived and obviously desperate attempt at forgetting. He found it ironic that the only time he could relax whilst walking in his own town would be the few and far between instances when he is certain he wouldn't encounter anyone that knows him or of him. Quite ironic really, that he feared more the presence of people he knew than the crapshoot that might result in encountering nameless strangers on deserted alleyways or busy crowded streets.

He stayed away from the business district and certainly made no move towards the arcade where distractions and the easier, certainly more conventional means to while away the hours were plentiful. He was trying to forget the day's less than stellar result—however he wasn't quite degenerate enough or thoughtless enough to reward himself for skipping out of class. He knows that he would be reprimanded by both the school and maybe his mother but for the moment, the peace and solitude he has bought for himself was all that he could think of.

He would worry about the other things—all the other things—when the time comes. For now he bought himself a few precious minutes of freedom and respite. The reprieve was heady and he loathed the idea of to giving it up so soon. For now, he would try his hardest to gather the remains of his tattered spirit and composure into some semblance of being. He doesn't want to go home with any visible sign of strain or anger inside him. It wouldn't do to cause his mother any worry or sadness. He will not burden her with further proof of his inadequacies and he certainly has no wish to bring the bitten taint of his own cursed school-time menace to the one place that has remained unsullied in his life.

He was already a disappointment with his dismal showing at school and while his mother never begrudged him that—he felt all too keenly the fact that he was living up to the demeaning nickname he had been forced to bear since middle school.

Home's the only place I could find peace—the only place where I can be safe. I will not blemish it with all the drama that school already has. Even someone like me deserves a place to be safe and be myself.

The house loomed just a few feet away and like always the familiar sight eased the cold, hollow ache gnawing at him since he slipped out of school. Wincing reflexively at the possible sound it was prone to make, he pushed the gate open and sighed when it barely gave out a faint squeak. Reaching into one of his many pockets, he took out his house key and fitted it into the lock. He knew his mother was usually out during this time of day and cowardly as that might be he was thankful he didn't have to explain his unexpectedly early presence just yet. Toeing off his shoes, he quickly made it up the stairs and into the relative coolness and solitude of his room.

Once inside he allowed his bag to slide off his shoulders and drop unheeded to the floor where it promptly caused him to trip when he took a single step towards his closet. Chagrined and resigned to his life's many ironies, he stripped away of his sweat-soaked uniform before proceeding to the bath where he used a cool wet towel to wipe away them stench and trace of sweat that his thin body bore and changed into a pair of sweatpants and shirt. The feel of warm, clean clothing eased even more the tainted feeling that clung to him, easing away the ever-present trace of tears and despair that seemed determined to cleave to his body.

Sighing, he made his way to his bed and gratefully stretched out, his eyes closing reflexively as his body finally relaxed since awakening that morning. His single-minded attempt to gain rest so consumed his conscious mind that it failed to recognize the sharp frisson of awareness that shot through his senses.

Not alone…the house…mom…

His body slid gratefully into exhausted, dreamless slumber, barely making a fuss at all when his muddled consciousness belatedly acknowledged what his senses have been trying to tell him—that the house didn't exactly feel empty at all.

Not alone…someone's here…someone different…someone not like anyone else…

He was certainly in no frame of mind to make himself move or even care as his worn-out body simply shut down and plunged him into deep sleep, his lips sluggishly forming words he was certainly no longer aware of saying.

" No mom…that man…no…not as he appears…"

And under the most normal circumstance not one single soul would've been able to hear.

However that fact, sadly, does not apply in this particular circumstance.

REBORN

He took another contemplative sip of the surprisingly good brew and wondered what the woman sharing the kitchen space with him would've said had she heard those sleepily murmured words. He doubts it would have made much sense to her, but the notion didmake him a bit curious and brought a small smirk to his lips.

An interesting quirk…so the Vongola blood actually runs true in this one…wonder if that canny old man knew…

The entire notion that the boy would be a less than ideal nor suitable candidate was an aberration from his usual response to given stimuli but he was well aware that he was operating beyond the normal parameters he has grown used to. In truth, nothing about his current assignment proved to be according to his personal or professional protocol.

Certainly not the way he was given near carte blanche when it came to deciding on how to go about his training, nor to the location in which he was supposed to do the job. But he knows how to roll when things come up smelling less than roses and more of a FUBAR kind of thing.

Normally his clients are petulant, reticent blue-blooded heirs who for reasons personal and idiotic refused to gracefully assume their place in the natural order of the Underworld. Their families have the pedigree, the manpower, the resource and the financial means to secure his limited, selective and very exacting process.

Normally, when confronted with a less than ideal locale, he would've simply dragged the oblivious heir-apparent back to Italy and train him there so that he could acclimate quicker and far more efficiently than he would've otherwise given the foreign and clearly untested location. He would've found suitable experts to assist whenever the need would arise and he would've demanded a retainer large enough to pay the national debt of a small nation.

However, with the unrest brewing within the edges of the Vongola stronghold itself—he deemed the relative anonymity of a Japanese suburb as a far better and defendable position. A location unknown and unfamiliar to him would be impossible for anyone else.

After all the location can only remain unknown if he was less than vigilant and unfamiliar if he allowed himself to be lazy and let's admit it—that is just not happening anytime soon. He already made contingencies regarding supply lines and personnel. Anything else he might need within the realm of his imagination was not without any means of being attained. That's what carte blanche means when HE was the one setting down the rules of his contract.

And more than anything else, normally he wouldn't be spending any significant amount of time wondering if he made a rookie mistake alienating a key component of his assignment within the first hour of starting. He doesn't need to have the one ally he had to convince to be overtly antagonistic to him and his ways. That way spell disaster and a waste time and resources he would rather not have to go through.

He noticed that Decimo's mother now appeared much calmer than she had been when he first sprung his unfortunate choice of words but tears still rimmed her eyes every so often and her cheeks remained pale. On hindsight, perhaps he could've employed a more subtle and far gentler means of breaking the news of her son's sudden change of status.

Still she seemed to have shored up her feelings and regained a commendable degree of her composure. She began attending to her guests as she was wont to do on occasion, automatically refilling his cup, and quietly inquiring if he had need for more substantial repast as if she hadn't spent just moments ago cursing his very existence. When he murmured his refusal, he carefully placed his cup down without being asked, pinning her with his gaze and like the astute woman that she clearly was, she took the seat in front of him without another word and simply waited for him to speak.

Time to give her something to distract her from her dark and decidedly morose mindset. Perhaps I should inform her that we are no longer alone.

"Your son is home."

The ruse proved to be surprisingly effective. The woman looked up swiftly towards the door. She jumped to her feet and tried valiantly to smooth down her hair and wipe the faint traces of tears still left on her cheeks. She moved towards the sink and immediately washed the flushed warmth in her face, effectively erasing the stain of anguish that marked her visage. Her frantic attempt to fix herself slowed down suddenly as her mind contemplated ideas as to why her child would be home. His intuition warned him that the worry would bring about another bout of tears and he nearly cringed. He didn't mind the tears but he would rather not be subjected to constant displays of it either.

"Tsu-kun's home? But school is—"a quick turn of her head to consult the clock made her mutter worriedly, "He shouldn't be here at all. Classes aren't out yet. I wonder if something happened today…"

He cast a brief glanced at the direction of the energy he sensed and assessed the nature of the body that entered the house. It didn't escape his attention that the boy managed to do that without disturbing him. If his bag hadn't thumped against the floor and if the bed's springs hadn't squeaked when he lay down, he might've missed him for a few more minutes.

Sloppy on his part, really, but promising for his would-be student. Most promising. It wasn't every day that an untrained, untested boy could bypass his considerable senses.

"Calm yourself. No need to get into a tizzy. He is not sick nor is he wounded."

"Oh…he isn't? Tt-that's—that's good…"

He glanced at the woman who has finally gathered her composure and appeared back in control and decided that further information about his future student wouldn't hurt. The dossier he carried with him certainly never revealed that the mother was as not as unaware as the child regarding their current situation. It certainly didn't contain anything about the woman having a very explosive, albeit, justifiable temper. All that her idiotic husband was able to state about his better half was that she was perfection itself. Clearly the man didn't know his wife has grown a backbone in his absence or that his broken promise was the proverbial straw that broke his wife's long-suffering patience. Perhaps it had already been inside her and was just never seen by her perpetually missing spouse. It was a fact he would soon remedy but first things first, he needed information from someone with a much closer perspective towards his newest charge.

"But I am curious as to why you're not unduly surprised that he is here and not where he is expected to be. I take it this isn't the first time he has done such a thing?"

A sad, melancholic look flashed on her face and she shook her head. Her lips pursed in a weary half smile as her red-rimmed eyes lost itself in memories.

"No, sadly this isn't the first time he ran home after something bad happened in school. I thought, at least now that he's in middle school it wouldn't happen anymore, but clearly—I was mistaken. Oh my poor, little tuna-fish…"

"It would be unseemly for a future leader to have such a nature. No one would respect a leader who runs home whenever adversity gets the better of him. I would see to it that this would be the last time."

"Mr. Reborn..." she began hesitantly but the sound of the cup settling against the saucer with a bright clink made her pause and look up. He held her gaze for a few minutes.

"Call me Reborn. No Mr. Just Reborn will be fine."

She stared at him for a few more moments before nodding. Her eyes once again dropped to her lap and fiddled with the apron strings with her hands. Her words when it came, was soft and halting. "Well then, Reborn…what happens now? What am I supposed to do?"

"Be there for him. Like you've always been. Like you always will. Now, more than ever Decimo would need your steadfast nature and the comforting familiarity of home. He will need your strength and the warmth of his home to ground him for the upheavals that would inevitably come. His world will become fraught with dangers and challenges, that much I can tell you now. He has been safe and hidden for far too long—once his name and presence has been confirmed to be true, those who wish to usurp his position would hold back no longer. He needs someone who will remain constant in his life and one place where he will always feel welcome and safe."

"Is there no other way to avoid this path?" There was resignation in her tone but her eyes pleaded with him one more time to deny the truth that hung uncomfortably between them. Reborn has never regretted more the chances he was given for being a harbinger of change more than he did at that moment.

"I'm afraid not. Not for your son. Not even for this famiglia. They've used up all their trumps, all their ace in the holes and all their prayers. Tsunayoshi is all that remains to them. Despite your fears and disbelief, the truth is, your son is all that stands between oblivion and salvation for the many men in the Vongola Famiglia. Without him—without your son, without Sawada Tsunayoshi, there would come a time when the Vongola Famiglia and all that belonged under her helm would cease to exist. That truth, much like his ascension, is inevitable."

With a final brush of her hands against the nubby feel of her apron, Sawada Nana stood and walked away from the table and braced her hands against the counter, staring at the yard outside with unseeing eyes as if she hoped to find salvation or solution standing somewhere out there.

"I still don't understand how a child could accomplish all that you're saying. I can't see how my child could mean so much to your world. He wasn't trained for it—he wasn't born into your world. He's just a tiny pebble in the sea that is your world."

"We do not always knowingly assign value to those that make ripples in the sea of our lives.

Whether it is the kind that threatens us or repels us, entice us or pull us in—we can decide only once the right time comes. All one can do is prepare. Your son is more than just a mere pebble—he is the pebble that's going to disturb the long stagnated waters of the Underworld."

He jumped from his seat and made a move towards the living room but Sawada Nana turned and he waited for her to speak. He knew very well this question would come and he was prepared for the outburst it would cause.

"Reborn—what are you—really? Are you just a tutor for Tsuna? Is that what you are?"

"That is the primary role I will play in his life. What I am before I was assigned to him and what I will be in the end—well, that's something we will have to come to terms, he and I. But no, I am not just a tutor if that's what you're asking."

"You will protect him—wont you?"

"With all that I am. With my life, if need be."

If his answer surprised him, he would never know. Sawada Nana, for all her expressiveness and open reactions could, at times, sink into such stillness that even he had a hard time fathoming her depths. And so, he simply gave her a nod towards the second floor.

"Now go and be a mother to your son Sawada Nana. He will need you more than before. Give him the very best memories of home and childhood he can steal away from time. It would have to last him for a very long while."

This time he gave Sawada Nana a firm nod and exited from her kitchen. He thought it best to give both mother and child time to settle themselves before he made himself known to his main client. There will be time enough after that. He knows he will have his student all to himself in the days to come. And Decimo's mother certainly needs to get into the practice of keeping her serenity around her son even as she hands him over to the hands of a trained killer.

NANA

She had to make the act good. She must never show him her turmoil. She must be strong. If at no other time than now—she would be strong enough for the both of them.

Her little tuna-fish has been trying to be strong for her for so long—keeping his smiles radiant and carefree for her for years despite the turmoil he had been forced to live under. The knowledge that her son has been suffering for years without her knowing shot a sharp stabbing pain into her heart but she clamped her lips closed to stifle the cry that wanted to escape. She could cry later—she would break down and weep and moan later—she already shed enough tears not an hour ago, she could certainly hold off her despair for a few more hours.

She could do this. More so, she would do it.

It was a small price to pay, really. If it meant her little tuna fish would finally get to grow, there really isn't anything else for her to do. For the chance to finally unlock all of her beloved tiny tuna-fish's potential she could learn to endure anything. She has already learned to live day by day without her beloved husband's warmth and security—she could learn to temper the core of herself to be strong enough to be her child's shield for as long as he would need it.

She would steel herself from worry and loss if it would ensure that her son would finally get to live the kind of life he was meant to. For that she would endure anything.

With a final swipe of her palms across her cheek and under her lids to check for any telltale sign of tears, she reached for the knob and gave it a gentle twist. Pushing the doors slowly, she took stock of her slumbering son and felt her lips trembling as she made herself look stern and speak loudly:

"Tsu-kun! Is that you? I just got a call from school! You went home in the middle of class again! Did something happen today?"

"Mom! You can't just barge into my room like that!"

Her eyes trailed over his disheveled form and couldn't help the small smile that bloomed on her lips. Her voice when she spoke returned to its usual warm tones.

"Are you in trouble again Tsu-kun?"

This time she watched keenly her son's eyes and it nearly brought her to her knees when she saw his brown eyes—usually so clear and pure and true—cloud with something all too frail and human and hurting for her to miss. She wondered anew how she could've lived for so long with her own son and been blind to all his pain when she can now see how patently obvious it was.

"No, Mom."

"Will you tell me if you were?"

"Mom…please…"

Haltingly she tried to muster her voice and her composure to remain steady but even to her she could detect the faint tremble in it when she spoke.

"Oh I know that I'm being nosy...Tsu-kun. Mama is very sorry dear. But Mama is only worried about you, you know that right? I mean, you're all grown up and all. What are you going to do in the future?"

"The future-!"

"Tsu-kun ta ra…! What is Mama going to do with you? I mean I'm not expecting you to go to a top-notch university or college but- what do you want to do with yourself. You have to start thinking about these things you know…"

TSUNAYOSHI POV

The usual banter and subtle reproach in his mother's voice didn't bother him. But that final question for some reason did. It wasn't as if he didn't think about the future. It's just that with such a reputation and a very real possibility that he would be staying put in the same place for the foreseeable future-it was safe to surmise that he wouldn't actually amount to much no matter what he did.

He couldn't count on the possibility that people would soon forget the hateful nickname. People's cruelty lingered far longer in the mind than any act of kindness. That much he knows first-hand. He couldn't honestly answer his mother without causing her distress and that's something he would never consciously do. He would rather get beaten every single day and bear that demeaning nickname rather than add to the sorrow that occasionally darkens his mother's eyes.

So engrossed was he in the thoughts inside his head that he barely caught the words that came from her lips next.

"…that's why I decided to call him and he's-!"

"Call who? Mom, what are you talking about?"

"Well, you see there was this funny ad I found in the mailbox this morning. It's about a home

tutor and they said that as long as there's food and lodging in the offing then they would come here and teach you how to become a great leader in the future. Isn't that nice dear? And so I gave them a call and—"

"MOOOOOOM!"

It was all he could do really to resist the urge to face-palm in front of his mother. She would only ask him about the reason if he did. Even he, clueless and dense as he was, could tell the ad was a scam. His cheerfully naïve and trusting mother didn't even have a clue! How was he supposed to explain to her that no sane tutor would agree to such measly means of compensation? That what she read was so obviously a scam no one with half a mind would believe it?

"But Tsu-kun. The tutor is already here."

"What?!"

"Ciaossu."

The sight that greeted him was so bizarre—so out of the normal expectation that all he could do was gape and sputter at the strange figure standing so insolently in front of him. Incredulous, he pointed at the figure standing so imperiously at his bedroom's threshold and turned wide eyes at his mother shouting, "What the—Mom! You got an infant to be my tutor?! That doesn't even make—!"

Whatever else he would have said that night was lost in the blinding pain that suddenly bloomed inside of him and to his utter shock, he found himself lying face down on the floor of his room, his arms pinioned behind him effortlessly and his eyes staring right smack at the shiny toes on a pair of genuine Italian leather shoes.

"Who are you calling an infant Dame Tsuna? My name is Reborn. And I will be your tutor."

"A baby tutor?" he stammered. "Even I can't be that pathetic!" he whined as he tried to get up only to have his face smashed into the carpet when the baby decided to drop kick him on the head. "Oww! Hey!"

"Who says I'm just a tutor? I am a hitman. Now get off your ass kid. Time's a-wasted. It's time for you to get started and for me to show you what someone like me can do."

Title Translation: TRATTARE CON IL DIAVOLO = "DEALING WITH THE DEVIL"