A/N: Sorry, this took longer to come out than I meant it to. I got kinda side-tracked, what with the fabulousness of the latest KHR manga chapters and all. You guys don't understand how hard I boner for Viper. I've been waiting for that since forever. Also, yeah, I really like Fon x Viper now.

Buuuuuuuuuut enough about that.

Like I said last chapter, the next couple of chapters deal with the Varia's intermafia relations, and how they conduct business and the like. There's only two this time, but there will be more to follow, so yeah. The Vongola boys will be making appearances soon, so I'm sure you are all shitting bricks.

(Don't do that by the way, it sounds kind of painful :X)

I'm also laying some groundwork for a couple of future stories. Again, not in this chapter, but in the next few coming up, so be on the look out!

Which reminds me, I'm kinda sad that no one noticed what I was talking about last chapter. I thought it was pretty obvious, but, I guess it wasn't that obvious. Meh, whatever. But for those of you who did notice, and just didn't review or anything, I think you will also notice something interesting about this chapter too. Sue me, I like throwing things in to see who is really paying attention!

I wonder, how many of you will catch it?

And how many of you are going to reread the previous chapter to figure out what you missed?

If someone does realize either one or both of the things I'm talking about, I'll dedicate a short in this to you. This'll be a little contest of sorts, because I'm a derp and I enjoy things like that. I left a hint at the bottom for you guys.

With all of that being said, read on!

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

28: Nonpareils

(In which the line between business and pleasure fades)

He knew something was off the minute the strange man walked into the shop.

He had never seen him in those parts before; he knew everyone in Florence, if only because he ran it. Everyone knew his name, and they understood that he was not one to be crossed without swift and cruel retribution. Not a single person dared to breathe in his town without asking his permission, and he liked it that way.

He took care of his town, though he ruled it with an iron hand; fear was the only reliable means of keeping order, but he took care of those who paid their weekly tributes on time and placated him the best they could.

"Welcome, friend. What can I do for you?" He greeted, despite his inner apprehension. The man simply smiled as he eyed the assortment of sweets behind the glass display.

He had never seen the man before, and yet, something about him seemed so familiar, as if this stranger was someone he should've known, or had met at some point in his life. But he remembered every face, and he was certain he would remember a fellow with something as distinct as a red and green Mohawk walking around with a feather boa on.

People that ridiculous tend to get noticed right away. And they usually left a lasting impression.

"I heard the nonpareils here are the best in Italy. Is that true?" The man asked casually, still eyeing the selection from behind dark sunglasses.

"Sure are, my friend. I figured you weren't from around here, what part of Italy do you come from?"

He had a few of his boys right outside the shop, as well as in the back room, where his real money was coming in. They were always within earshot, always ready for bloodshed and chaos, and that feeling was so palpable in the streets, that people went out of their way to avoid walking by his shop, unless they had business with him.

And having business with him was rarely a good thing.

And yet, this man swaggered into his shop so casually, with that knowing little smile, not even sparing his generals, who were huddled around a table in the corner and had their cold stares glued on him, a passing a glance. As if they weren't even there.

Either this man was incredibly ballsy, or incredibly oblivious.

"Oh, I live in Naples," He said amiably, "but I'm here in Florence on some business today."

"I see."

After a few moments, the man came closer to the counter, a slight pout on his face.

"Do you have white chocolate nonpareils? Those are my favorite."

"Of course, sir. They're in the back though, so let me go grab a tray. I'll just be a second." He said before excusing himself. It made him quite uneasy, turning his back on this stranger. He couldn't place it, but the man, despite his disarming and friendly disposition, had a resolute coldness about him that put even his generals on edge. That pleasant smile, he could see, didn't reach the man's eyes. He could tell that, even if the man's eyes were hidden behind dark shades.

It made him wonder exactly what type of 'business' the man had in his town.

He returned not a minute later, a tray of delicate, sprinkled white chocolate nonpareils in his hands. The man was still standing in the same place he left him, humming a tune to himself as he checked his cell phone.

His henchmen were still sitting in the back, watching the man, just as they were a moment ago.

But something felt wrong.

He had a sharp intuition; one did not rise to the top of a mafia family without one, and somewhere in his mind, thousands of alarms were going off.

The man looked up from his phone at the sound of the thin metal tray being placed on the counter in front of him, the same jovial yet oddly chilled smile on his face.

"Oh don't they look splendid~!" He said giddily. "How much?"

"Five per pound."

"Fair enough. I'll take a pound and a half, if you please."

"Right away, sir. Oh, out of curiosity," he began casually as he siphoned a section of the tray's contents into a silver box, "what sort of business do you have here in Florence?"

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that already." The man said with a chuckle.

One of the nonpareils slid off the tray and onto the floor.

"Say again, friend?" He asked, an edge in his voice that would normally send the person on the opposite end of it into a flurry of excuses and apologies. But as he expected, the man didn't even flinch.

"You are Fernando Corleoni, head of the Corleoni family that has had control of Florence for about twelve years now, is that correct?"

"I am. And what business do you have with me, stranger?" He asked, voice strained as he looked as discreetly as he could over the man's shoulder, at his two generals sitting in the corner.

"Don't bother with them," the man said with a smile, "they've been dead for about three minutes now."

"What!"

In an instant, the man was behind him, his breath warm on the shell of his ear. "A message, from the Vongola," he began quietly, "Florence will be absorbed into the Vongola Famiglia's territory. I'm sorry, Don Corleoni, but your entire family of peons is now obsolete~."

"The Vongola!"

And right then, as the jab to the back of his neck shattered his neck with enough force to send a reverberating crack down his entire spinal column, and his vision began to fade to black, Don Corleoni instantly realized who the man was.

Part of him felt strangely honored to be considered important enough to be assassinated by a member of the infamous Varia Organization. It meant that the Corleonis were big enough to be noticed by the most influential family in the entire Mafia world.

To him, it was true validation.

"Took you long enough." Levi snapped as Lussuria walked out of the small boutique, humming the same little tune that he was humming when he walked in. Lussuria shrugged affably as he held up a silver box.

"I wanted my nonpareils, darling. I had to wait for the late Don Corleoni to fetch them for me from the back. Want one?"

Levi made a disgusted face. "I hate white chocolate."

Lussuria scoffed. "Hmmph. Your loss then."

"It's a shame though," Lussuria mentioned later that night in Xanxus' office, his little box of sweets still in hand as he presented both his mission report and the news footage of the Corleoni murder case to the Varia boss.

"Corleoni's nonpareils really were the best in Italy."

29: Price-Tag

(In which the terms of a contract are negotiated)

Don Paolo Cantatore was a shrewd man by nature; he had remained the Don of his family for over twenty years only because he ruled his family with an iron fist and always kept his wits about him. An astute mind was a quality he found not only likable in a person, but it became a basic requirement in any and all he dealt with, whether his dealings involved business, pleasure, or occasionally both.

But shrewdness, it seemed, did not run in his family, as much as it pained him to admit this. Unlike in Nono's family.

Though he was not his own flesh and blood, the adopted son of Vongola Nono, Xanxus, possessed the same cunning, hyper- aware personality that his dear friend and business associate had.

And yet at the same time, just sitting across the table from the Varia commander made Don Cantatore horribly uneasy. He would even dare to say, in the privacy of his thoughts, that Xanxus was the most intimidating man he'd ever done business with. Or even met at all, for that matter.

Despite the fact that Nono was sitting at the end of the table, not three feet away, it felt similar to sitting in the same room as a rogue lion that hadn't eaten in days. Even as Xanxus reclined back in his chair, yawning lazily into the back of his hand, Don Cantatore didn't doubt for even a second that this man, with his organization of crazed, bloodthirsty killers, would be the one to solve the Alliance's problem.

The problem that was his own flesh and blood.

He had turned a blind eye to his son's not-so-secret dealings far too many times already, and as much as he cared for Giancarlo as his son, Paolo Cantatore was a mafioso first, and a father second. The integrity of the Vongola-Cantatore alliance, as well as the alliances with the other prominent mafia families in Italy, took precedence even over the life of his reckless offspring.

Even though it hurt.

"I want this dealt with as quickly and secretly as possible. I have heard of the Varia's demonic abilities in the past, but understand that I am entrusting this mission to your organization solely because of Nono's recommendation."

Xanxus, who had not bothered to even open his eyes yet, crooked a finger in the Don's direction. Don Cantatore stood and slid a thin folder across the glass table to the dark-haired man. Xanxus caught the folder with a lazy finger before it slid off the side of the table, cracking an eye open as he turned it rightways.

The room remained silent for several minutes as the Varia commander thumbed through the contents of the folder, his penetrating gaze lingering on the lone photograph that slipped out. After a few minutes, Xanxus tossed the folder back on the table, his attention now fully on Don Cantatore.

"When is this assassination to take place?" He asked tersely. Cantatore puffed at the thick cigar clenched between his teeth for several tense moments, before finally replying.

"One week from now. My son will be in Paris then. I'd rather the hit take place outside of Italy, primarily out of Naples."

Xanxus smirked. "You mean, outside the jurisdiction of the Italian authorities. They've detained Giancarlo before, haven't they? Any sort of incident concerning him, especially an obvious mafia hit, will immediately bring heat down on the alliance of the families. Am I correct?"

Cantatore nodded slowly as he dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. The Don was still puffing away at his cigar, his anxiety rising higher with each word.

"Unfortunately, you are correct. Giancarlo has been arrested several times on charges of possession with intent, and his complete disregard for our already strained alliances with the other families is putting everyone on edge. If someone were to assassinate him on Italian soil, the suspicion of the authorities would immediately turn to the Cantatore family, and consequently, the entire alliance of our respective families." Paolo said, heaving a tired sigh as he took a swig of his wine before continuing.

"So, you see, this must be carried out as inconspicuously as possible. Hell, make it look like an accident if you can. Naturally, I will be putting forth a handsome fee for this hit, as well as Nono." Cantatore said, turning towards the finally member of the deal, who had remained tentatively silent through the whole talk.

Nono nodded, sighing under his breath. "Yes. The Vongola famiglia will put forth half of the fee."

Xanxus pursed his lips in thought. "And how much are you willing to pay for the Varia to off your own son?" He asked with a slightly feral, almost cruel smirk.

Nono gave the dark-haired man an incensed look before turning to his friend and fellow Don.

Cantatore downed the rest of his wine. "Four million." He said curtly after several moments.

Xanxus made a pensive noise as he reclined back in his seat. "Four million, hmm? Seems a little low for a hit of this magnitude."

"Xanxus-"

"How dare you? I'm not asking you to assassinate the Pope or something. I think that price is more than reasonable, considering my son holds no rank within the family."

Xanxus scoffed. "Well, Don Cantatore, considering no one in the Varia would even get out of bed for less than ten million, myself included, I think you're being a little cheap. Frankly, it's fuckin' insulting that you think you can have us pull a hit like this, and then have the balls to try and pay us off with chump change."

Cantatore growled lowly, abruptly turning to Nono. "What do you think, Nono?"

Nono looked between two for a few moments, his head cradled in the palm of his hand in mild irritation. "Unfortunately, I am inclined to agree with my son this time, Paolo. The Varia are the best of the best, but I never said that they were reasonably priced."

Cantatore's shoulders slumped slightly at the unexpected answer, but he nodded regardless.

"Fine. I'll triple it. But only if Nono is in agreement with it."

Xanxus chuckled lowly. "Oh, he can pay. I'm not concerned about that at all."

Nono simply nodded.

"Well then," Cantatore began, "twelve million it is then."

Xanxus stood up with a dismissive nod, "Fine then. I'll have Squalo arrange the formal contract, and we'll meet again during the week to fill out the paperwork."

And with that, Xanxus was out the door.

"Xanxus?"

"What is it?"

"Paolo and I had a long talk after you left, and there is something I would like you to keep in mind when you brief your subordinates."

"And what would that be?"

"We feel that it would be best if this arrangement stayed between the three of us. I know that your men are not the types to go out and spill secrets, but for safety's sake, please don't mention that Paolo is the one really ordering the hit. There is a lot riding on this assassination, yes, but Paolo's honor is also at stake. I'd rather shoulder the entire responsibility for ordering this hit than for Paolo to look like a cold-blooded killer for having his own son murdered. Do you understand?"

"…"

"Xanxus?"

"Yeah. I understand."

"Good. I'll be in touch. Good night."

"Mm."

Click.

Well? What are your thoughts? If you realized the one special detail I mentioned, or if you just liked the stories, leave me a review! This goes for the last chapter too. The first person who notices gets a short dedicated to them. I'll be more specific about that later though.

Hint: One is in reference to something that was previously mentioned, and the other is in reference to another story entirely. I think the second one will be way more obvious though, just throwing that out there.

Well, see you when I see you!

-S*B