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Chapter One: Gentle ~ Mukuro's Side

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He wasn't quite sure what to think of him: the bunny, Ken called him.

Kind and sweet, with that fluffy hair, equally fluffy personality, those big brown eyes and even bigger heart, he really was the 'Little Animal' that The Skylark was always accusing him of being. If Mukuro had to sum him up in one word it word be naïve, but in reality, secretly, when that child came to mind all he could think about was how gentle he was. His soft touch. His tender tone. Those fond eyes. That soul-stealing smile… And to have those traits survive his ancestor's curse…? It stunned him -left the prisoner utterly baffled in the face of such persistent weakness. And he wondered if all the little things about him that gave Mukuro shivers, if all the little things about him that filled Mukuro with warmth would survive the blood-stained Mafia after all. Alas, it wasn't possible. Mukuro couldn't –wouldn't believe it. And yet, combined with those affectionate arms, almost maternal nature, and endearing mannerisms- that boy inspired preposterous thoughts in his head. He was clearly dangerous. Practically deadly. Yes, that boy, Sawada Tsunayoshi, the (allegedly) Omnipotent Sky, Vongola Decimo, future Head of the infamous Vongola Alliance. For all intent and purposes they were clearly enemies and yet-

And yet-

Why was he so…?

"Mukuro…?" The gentle call, accompanied by that timid tug on the mental link created by his foiled attempt to take over the brunet's existence, drew the Master Illusionist out of his rueful musings.

"Mukuro?"

And there it was again.

Why was it always like that? It fascinated the older, the…warmth that radiated from the little strand of interconnected conscious. They were so different, you'd think that it would have faded with time and yet, like the astonishing existence it belonged to it persisted aggravatingly despite the time and distance. He'd tried to cut it, sever the bond between them many times before out of anger, frustration…fear, but for all that it was impossibly small it was incredibly strong.

Much like its owner.

"There you are!" Came the echoing, cheerful chime, and the taller turned to find the typical set up all laid out yet again by the amazing, little annoyance. "I am so sorry that I'm late, but Lambo got a new shipment of grenades this morning and he ended up making a huge mess of the backyard. Honestly, despite the fact that that I know it was all because of Reborn and his nonsense, that…little devil refuses to admit to it. But I mean, what's even the point of that? He's gotta know that I know that he had more to do with it than he let on. But instead of at least hinting that he's sorry that I had to fly all the way to Barcelona to get that special terracotta for the new porch that Dad brought last time he overnighted at home, he laughed! He's completely unrepentant! Though it's totally like him to just shamelessly stand aside and watch chaos take its 'natural' course after setting everything up himself, this time he's gonna regret it!"

Freezing internally at that pronouncement, he casually wondered, "And how are you going to do that?"

All the while, trepidation gnawed at his soul.

Was this it?

The evil eventuality?

The cruel revelation of every man's truest nature?

The…betrayal of all his most secret hopes?

"Oh," Tsuna bit his lip in contemplation, eyes hesitant and a little lost. "I guess I'll just conveniently forget how to make his expresso just right for the next week…again."

He rolled his eyes to punctuate the ridiculousness of the World's Greatest Hitman's one true weakness, before sighing in exasperation.

But even as he grumbled adorably about being worked like a slave by "that ungrateful imp," Mukuro's heart soared.

But of course…

It was the only natural outcome…

Tsuna would never-

Clearing his throat, the amused elder wondered aloud, "I wouldn't advise that, Sawada Tsunayoshi; you'll be killed."

Blanching momentarily, he agreed, before promptly pouting.

"Still, it's not fair! I guarantee you that that our one and only Spawn of Satan was taunting poor Lambo again. Probably about the bright, Barbie pink of the new batch, and you know how Lambo is - he's as hot-headed as Hayato! All it takes is a single, snide side-comment to trigger another fit. And since Reborn is the undisputed king of stupid, sarcastic side commentary that no-one asked him for, it's is all his fault that we gotta hurry today, or I'll be late my part-time job…!"

Accustomed to being bombarded with useless information about his primary target's daily life, Mukuro rolled his eyes at the other teen on the lotus patterned futon as he came to stand before it.

The boy pat his lap in invitation from where he sat wariza, (which, as the illusionist had learnt from the boy in question was different from seiza, as everything beneath the knee was bent off to it respective side in place of under him), and coaxingly called out to him again.

Needless to say, he obeyed and laid down with his head on that surprisingly firm lap, but not without grumbling first.

"This is ridiculous," He declared in a cranky grumble yet again, cuddling into Tsunayoshi's thighs.

And he didn't just mean their religiously kept, but rather pointless appointments, but also that the boy had rented an apartment in one of the better parts of town for them. What's more, instead of getting the Vongola to pay for it, he'd gotten a job at a little pizza parlour in town and was dedicatedly earning enough through that, (and secretly, small missions anonymously for various Allied Famiglias, but Tsuna didn't know he knew that), to fill their pantry, their wardrobes, and their schedules with ever more mind-numbingly mundane, everyday amenities. How he managed to pay the utilities while slowly having added a television, satellite TV, DVDs and its respective player, and even several game consoles with a plethora of both regular, and strange, flame-based games made by the irritating, orange-haired genius he met year before the last was considered a miracle by his more naïve friends.

"Of course not!" Protested Tsuna, Q-tips at the ready. "Xanxus travelling from Russia last Saturday after a mission just to demand more cookies at gunpoint is ridiculous. This makes perfect sense. Besides, who else is gonna clean your ears for you?"

Mukuro sighed.

He could remind Tsunayoshi that this wasn't actually his him, remind him that his real body was floating in a person-sized jar in Vendicare, but then the other would just get all sad and pathetic-looking. And he really didn't want to hear him guiltily apologize for having the common sense not to have fought the Vendice for him two years ago. Although, truthfully, it was more ignorance than actual sense that had allowed them to avoid that disaster, considering Tsunayoshi's innate compassion and penchant for self-sacrifice. Mukuro being his enemy wouldn't have mattered one wit if he had known what awaited the older boy back then; he would have challenged the impossible to save a rebellious experiment, and those merciless monstrosities would have quite possibly ended the Vongola lineage right then and there. Thankfully, they had avoided that disaster, but instead of letting sleeping dogs lie, that is, letting Mukuro suffer for his crimes, Tsuna's overwhelming empathy and sense of justice had him attempting to make contact with the soulless wardens holding him (and so many other hopeless deviants) captive. What's worse, the miniscule moron was seriously perusing his permanent release – as if that would ever happen. There was absolutely no way the Vongola would put their heir in such jeopardy. The only intelligent decision they'd made when it came to him was to leave him incarcerated. Should he escape, he fully intended to bring his plans to fruition. Maybe not immediately after, no, he wanted to lay claim to that body in other ways first, to enjoy the boy as he was now: soft, sweet, ripe…And for that he'd need his trust. So he'd bide his time for now, and wait until Vongola Nono died and Sawada Tsunayoshi had no choice but to take the throne being prepared for him. The child would have the power then, and none were likely to quest him - by then they'd have all been exposed to him long enough to fall under his thrall. He'd be several times as powerful as he was now, and eons more influential. He had the knack for charming weak-minded fools, and what sect of society was more foolish than the mafia? Case in point, their proverbial prince was performing menial tasks for him and running himself into the ground for the sake of him.

But for now, for now he'd play good and enjoy the perks that came with being domesticated –or playing at it, rather.

At least he wasn't insisting on cleaning his nose with that weird bulb that he used on the cow-child when he had the flu, the navy-haired youth drew the line there.

And as Tsuna began, Mukuro reflected that, all things considered, this wasn't half bad.

Even if it was just playing pretend.

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Now, kneeling at Tsunayoshi's feet with his head pressed into the small hollow on the inner side of the curve of his jutting hipbone, Mukuro reflected that playing pretend was a common theme amongst Tsuna and his Guardians. Like now when they pretended to obey him out of fear and respect, when it was really out of the absolute adoration etched in their every movement. Never had Mukuro had the privilege to witness the lines between love and obsession blur so thoroughly, but since they were even more transparent than the one dividing right and wrong along the moral spectrum, he relished in the experience and thanked fate that he'd not been destined to join those fools in that perpetual hell.

For it was the most agonizing and final of them all.

…or so he'd heard.

It was no secret that being part of a complete Elemental set was as much a curse as a blessing, and that more often than not it was better to be alone. The sheer power a Sky could have over their Elements was terrifying enough, and Mukuro was unashamed to confess that having Nagi actually accept that burden had been the best immunization against that irresistible enchantment. She had made excellent insurance, and so he wasn't at all concerned about his racing pulse and the spike in his temperature when the older Sky attacked his. No, Nagi's. He was Nagi's. Chrome's. It was she that would suffer through the heartache. It was she that would give her life for him. It was she that would hand him the world on a silver platter if he wanted it. If she ever fell that far.

And she never would.

Not with Mukuro standing guard firmly between them. Not with his plan to seize even Tsuna's very existence from him. He would consume him to become him. To seize his thoughts, his breaths… All he was would become Mukuro. And all that was Mukuro would become his. Unfortunately enough for him, the Illusionist's physical form was trapped, sealed within Vendicare, never to be allowed to feel the light of day again. Cold. Silent. Distant. With only terrors for company. And the company of the various corpses around you in the same position as you for comfort. Not that would matter, after all Mukuro would have achieved what he wanted. And if he played his cards straight, he might even trick those nitwits into believing in him and serving him.

And if it was for Tsuna, they'd rip the universe apart.

So really, what was the Mafia in comparison…?

Holding fast to that promise, Mukuro buckled down as objects rattled and the walls threatened to crumble into dust. Even as his bones shook and his pulse thundered. Even as his nerves vibrated and his muscles cramped with tension. And when the elder pushed Tsunayoshi to increase the force or be crushed, both he and the five others simply grit their teeth and bore it, trusting their Sky to control himself just enough to avoid destroying them as he attempted to survive the mental brutality and prove his worth to his older, far more skilled challenger. But the test was rigorous, and if this tarried any longer, his ability to contain overwhelming energy would wane with his vitality, and when it did, if he did accidently injure any of them…

The kind-hearted fool would never forgive himself.

With the arrival of the Arcobaleno, however, Mukuro sensed that Chrome hoped that the little devil might plead with the Ninth Vongola Boss to end the battle of Wills, but Mukuro knew better. The infant would do anything to test Tsuna, to measure his growth. And what better opponent than a fully accomplished sky? A Vongola Sky to be precise, and not just any of them, but the longest lasting Sky, the one called 'Timoteo the Titan?' The one adversary that seemed impossible for Tsuna to beat as he was now, without outright killing him and igniting what might be the worst conflict between two Vongola generations since the spat between Primo and Segundo…?

Saddest part was, Tsuna could.

Easily.

All it would take was a push that was just a tad too strong and-

And that would be it.

The sun would set on the rule of Nono, and rise with Decimo.

The only problem, since Mukuro didn't mind the obvious bloodshed that would come with such an 'accident…?'

Unleashing Tsuna like that would likely kill everyone in this room, if not the entire estate, and if such a drastic thing didn't unlock his sealed reservoir completely and leave him braindead, the resulting shock he would get from seeing the sheer amount of splattered gore surrounding him would surely leave him either comatose, or utterly insane. The former would have thus started an unquenchable fire that would incinerate thousands more in the neighbouring villages until the Vendice realized what had happened and stepped in. And the latter was sure to prompt him to end the world by painting it the most beautiful shade of crimson. Slaughtering everything that moved in anticipation of the moment where it all turned black and he could meet them all again either in his exhausted dreams, or in the Vongola Rings' Hyper Space after death. Tragically, being locked in Vendice and all, he wouldn't be able to see either anyway.

…and to think, it would have all because of one sadist's need to push.

Speaking of which, as Mukuro sensed Tsuna fighting the urge the lash out at the aging Sky before the elder could snuff out his threatening potential in instinctive self-defence, all while casually conversing with the wielder of the Sun Pacifier, the collective unit he belonged to was stunned. Frozen, their eyes were fixated on a single drop of blood that had burst forth from a plush bottom lip to leave a scarlet trail down to his chin. It was so hypnotic, the vibrant colour of Sawada Tsunayoshi's life in liquid form. So lovely, so arousing. It was the perfect shade and caught the light in such a picturesque manner. So why? Why did it make him so ill, so, so-

Livid…?

Indeed, white hot, blinding fury filled him, filled all of them. It wasn't enough that his very soul had to be tested day to day, that his smiles grew dimmer in empathy, that his all-accepting heart was scourged because of its purity, but to face this unnecessary turmoil simply because he cared just like they had wanted him to? Needed him to? Unforgivable. Madness sparked within their barely assimilating consciousness –the results of the devil's own training and conditioning. The Sun's radiance flickered in ire, the Cloud darken even further, the Storm brewed, Rain wishing to burst forth and cleanse the space of the assembled filth. The summoned Lightening flashed threateningly as the Mists gathered their cruel imagination together prepared to create sheer devastation. Energies reaching forth and uniting at their fringes –the best they could do with their current level of power, but prodigious in comparison to the average age of unification- they were naught but an angered titan. Potential roused in wrath it boiled, it raged, and finally, in a flicker, from one moment to the next, coalesced with that of his fellow facets to form a force. Intensifying, about to bubble over-

-when a small hand, in a soft, woollen mitten, so at odds with the other that was held out in front of his Sky to aid his concentration, in its titanium-armoured glove, caressed the carefully styled top of Mukuro head. Those tender, calming strokes took all the fight out of him, and the minor fluctuation of the gushing inferno as that one hand reverted to its gentler form, drew the attention of the others and silenced their ire.

None of them ever even realized that Nono, too, had attempted to stop them from starting a scandal right then and there, or that Reborn had interceded for them himself seconds before that.

Still restricting the pulsing power pouring from him Tsuna gently stemmed the flow instead of stopping abruptly. Somewhat dizzy, and somewhat drunk on the symbiotic connection with his guardians that he'd entered when they took off for Italy, Tsuna took a quiet moment to struggle back into the role of Decimo. Senses closed off, and mind settling after the battering it took, a voice from long ago, and deep within one of his most prized possessions warned him, echoing and recommending his instincts.

'Be unshakeable, Tsuna - steadfast. You know what you must do.'

It was odd for Mukuro to catch thoughts from Tsuna's side of the link at random, but he rapidly understood that it was Vongola Primo again communicating with his successor and forgetting that he was there on the other side, rather than a slip on the part of Tsuna. But perhaps, it was no mistake on any front, and Primo was simply untroubled by him overhearing.

Naïve as ever, that one.

Would Tsuna grow out of it like the Young Lion he wondered? Or remain optimistic like the Great Sky? Only time would tell he supposed…

Meanwhile, usually chocolate brown eyes opened slowly, revealing glowing gold, as all around, people gathered themselves. Some had tumbled from their seats or ducked for cover, others were paralyzed with fear, but in whatever state of disarray, they now sought their composure.

Finally, Nono gave the sign:

"As you wish, Vongola Decimo."

There was a pregnant, expectant silence as Tsuna turned to face the assembled Dons of the Vongola Alliance. Many petrified, others seemingly apathetic and unafraid, but apprehensive, and others yet alive with awe.

This child, what a perplexing contradiction…

Mukuro could understand their unease; to see such magnificent power in the hands of one so young – his temperament was nothing short of a miracle.

His voice, when he spoke, was soft. Its gentle, rhythmic tone lulling, enrapturing, beguiling-

Dangerous.

But the ignorant or over-confident fools scattered around them amongst the wise didn't understand the inherent threat.

Hopefully, for the sake of his own, much more nefarious purpose, they never would; it would make it all the easier to manipulate them with a honeyed tongue and tender hands.

As he was scheming, Tsuna was, as Xanxus would put it, "preaching."

"The Mafia was founded by families to protect one another, to help one another, to cherish one another. Generation after generation of families continued it, long after it was explicitly needed, first out of love, then out of tradition. And soon, the tradition of love itself, and brotherhood between dons, between families, gave way to Famiglia surviving solely to continue mysterious, materialistic Tradition. The love had died." Thus, after his greetings, Tsuna began what would later be remembered as the monologue that began his eternal reign. "That awful, new tradition dictates that I am not supposed to use any of a Sky's special gifts on you. After all, it's unnecessary considering that you're supposed to obey me out of fear of my anger, even as you thirst for my favour which, apparently, is to remain ambiguously ever out of any and every one of your reaches. Tradition dictates that these most obvious facts themselves should not be said, that they should remain unspoken but understood. That I should remain, in the inverse, much spoken of, in awe and terror, and yet never understood. I should become a shadow. Ironic really, since, as the Vongola Sky, I'm also supposed to become the star of your world, with a radiance that eclipses all. I should become an ever impending storm just beyond the horizon to keep you all in check, and yet I should become a soothing drizzle that quiets your arguments. I should be the spark that electrifies and shares your human passions, and yet the solitary wisp that floats above your simple-minded avaricious that stems from your intrinsically flawed search for something to surpass your lifetime, a lineage that defeats the damnation that awaits you at the end of your mortality. And finally, as the transient haze, I myself am supposed to fade out with the dawn of a new Vongola Don. But this too is untrue. Isn't it?"

His eyes pierced the assembly, and many averted theirs so as not to meet that frighteningly intuitive gaze. Others sneered in defiance, refusing to admit to any weakness.

"In a riddling contradiction, you have come to damn those very foundational traditions. You fear the ambiguity, the insecurity of the mist, the rise of a new regime, the beginning of a brand new day that washes the sins of the past away, and may very well scorn the idea of repeating the old mistakes that yesterday accepted."

His eyes flickered back to his predecessor for an instance, but it was enough for Coyote's own orbs to narrow into a laser-like glower. Unmoved, he didn't bat an eyelash, and Timoteo restrained a laugh, eyes closing in silent amusement at his ever-overprotective Storm. It wasn't as if Tsunayoshi was wrong. He had erred, and often at that, and his mistakes were not ones that his successor could repeat if they were aiming to leave the gritty, grime-ridden world of crime behind. Indeed, the task before the younger was monumental, and was only minutely easier due to the efforts of the last two Vongola Dons. Still, it was a comparatively small, practically insignificant amount when considering the other burden Primo himself had given Tsuna. The boy had every right to be brutally honest and unbiased with others in these times, Lord knows he was far harsher on himself. As he should be, less he lose himself.

"In your self-centred hypocrisy," Decimo observed lowly, "your heartless newly enshrined tradition had you abandon Mukuro and his comrades to their fates, and now you wish to leave him to rot in a jar in the depths of Vendicare because you think he's too dangerous…?" Drawing a deep breath as his outrage reached the peak of its crescendo, said adolescent continued, "Fools, you're just a bunch of cowardly herbivores masquerading as carnivores in this dog eat dog world you've created. You clearly don't actually understand what's actually dangerous. Quite frankly, it would be sad if it wasn't so pathetic."

There were several indignant gasps at this, mostly from the various Famiglia Heads who didn't understand the incoming, implicit implication, the pending other shoe waiting to drop.

"How dare you, you mongrel!" spat one.

"Yes, you are nothing but a mix breed mutt chosen out of desperation by a dying regime!" accused another.

"Who are you to judge us!?" decried yet a third imbecile.

"…Who am I?" At that, Tsuna began to laugh. It started out low, then his cackling started to grow. Soon, the maniacal chuckling rivalled both Mukuro himself and the Skylark at their finest.

At last he replied: "Long ago, a boy with very little to no material wealth met six very different individuals. Wagering his very soul, his cursed his bloodline to ever there after protect the defenceless – no matter the personal cost. Out of selfishness, lust for power, and a heart-wrenching emptiness of the things most significant to the soul, his estranged half-brother and a wounded friend that had lost his way set out to steal the sacred gift entrusted to Primo for the sake of the vulnerable. The corruption, the greed, the sin…it would only grow and grow Giotto knew, but he didn't have the strength, the Will, to hurt those so dear to him. In his selfish but oh so comprehensible humanity, the poor man fled from his conflictions and responsibilities, entrusting it all to his descendants in the future. So now I, Sawada Tsunayoshi, great, great grandson of Sawada Ieyasu, also known as Giotto Taru Del Vongola, the legendary founder of this Family: Vongola Primo, have returned bearing his Will. I will succeed him, cease this cycle and continue what he began. When you ask me who I am, I can only answer that I am your reckoning, the Angel of the Apocalypse assigned especially to the Mafia: prepare yourself for the revival of the original order."

Silence pervaded, as they processed his retort, and one by one

"Reborn…" Tsuna summoned briskly, not averting his eyes from the distressed crowd.

"Yes, Decimo?" He replied with a proud twinkle in his amused eyes.

"Can you please retrieve Fuuta?"

That gave Mukuro pause.

What?

But he had seen, in Tsunayoshi memories that is, that-

Heard him say that he wouldn't-

Heard Tsunayoshi promise that he would never-

"He begged to come and help, Mukuro-sama," Nagi's calm voice cut through the borderline panic building in his mind. "Bossu wanted to refuse, but since I-Pin-chan was visiting with Hibari's sister for tea and later, dinner, and Mama-san went with her to meet her 'future in-laws,' Fuuta-chan would have been home alone what with us needing Lambo-chan to present a united front, and Reborn-san as an escort. Bossu had Cloud-san post Kusakabe-san and a few others around the perimeter of the residence just in case, but felt it would be okay so long as he didn't leave…temptation within the house."

At that, there was no further need for explanation -even though it soothed and reassured him, bless his Chrome; all the rest could have been left out in favour of that.

Tsunayoshi's world renowned Vongola Hyper Intuition was supernaturally incapable of err, even if it's still growing leader was, but with the experience the unfortunate sacrificial lamb had received at torture's knee the last year, Mukuro would bet his soul on it.

He wondered what class of fool was observing the already infamous Vongola Decimo's residence while they were here, and what's more, what class of fool would dare attempt something…

There were many a shady and inquisitive person that had the gall to spy on his Sky –Nagi's Sky, too many too count as a matter of fact, and so many lived or had connections to Namimori that it was no surprise that the people there were so immune to the obviously strange happenings that occurred around that all the time. To start with, there were the pathetic remnants of the Momokyokai, the Hibari's and therefore the Triads, The Giglio Nero and their Boss' Arcobaleno and therefore their various other affiliations, the Ninth Vongola Boss' Cervello…and those were the one they could name immediately! Then there were at the very least a sole spy for each Famiglia of the Vongola Alliance, double of the same for neutral or hopeful Dons' that desired to join the alliance under the up-coming reign, and triple of those for enemy Famiglia not part of the élite Alliance. Finally, of the obvious were the help: Vongola or Vongola Alliance henchmen, and hitmen and hitwomen intent on protecting and/or moulding Decimo and his Guardians, freelance hitmen and hitwomen hoping to meet Decimo and get in his good graces, enemy hitmen determined to end Decimo and attain infamy. It was the unknown, hidden few that bothered him, and those were- but the Arcobaleno's high voice interrupted his musings.

"As you wish, Decimo," he acquiesced with a respectful nod, before hopping off to gather the child.

Murmurs began to emerge from the uneasy crowd as they postulated. Were the rumours really true? Did the future Vongola Decimo really possess Ranking Fuuta…?

Apparently, he did, for in the next moment, the double doors of the meeting room opened and in strolled a boy, brunet, looking to be around twelve years old with that height, but known to be only ten. With an easily recognizable scarf, his trademark, framing the folded top of his beige turtleneck sweater, and the tails dancing above the tan belt holding up his tailored khaki shorts, with every step taken by his crème-coloured loafer-clad feet, there was not misunderstanding who he was. His well-known stealth was another indicator, as he made no sound as he was admitted into the circle of desks and recliner-type seats, crossed to the centre where Decimo stood. Mukuro pulled away and stood, joining the ranks at the Rain's side. It was just to allow the other to greet his big brother properly, knowing that to stay clinging would only bring him uncomfortably close to the pawn he'd once possessed.

Bowing at the waist with his right hand over his heart, Fuuta de Stella sank to his left knee.

Tsunayoshi offered him his own right hand, just as tradition dictated, and the child took the only slightly larger hand into both of his and pressed a devout kiss to his saviour's ring.

"How may I serve you, Decimo?" He inquired respectfully.

Tsunayoshi laughed jovially, and the light, cheerful sound of delight startled the crowd as it resonated, raising to the destroyed skylight. On the edge of the nearly empty other frame, Hibird sat, and at the familiar tinkling echo, chirped back and flew down to rest itself yet again atop one of his favourite persons' head. The teen blinked in acknowledgement, petting the yellow ball of fluff in absentminded affection with his left hand as its other favourite human leered possessively at the view of his pet and his targeted mate. With the hand cupped in Fuuta's own, Tsuna caressing the contours of that soon to be maturing face gently, the unconditional love in his eyes stealing the breaths of many in the room.

They knew that he'd be like this; they knew that their Angel of the Apocalypse was still an angel at heart.

Others sneered, jealously and ignorance at the source of their scorn for the image.

Unfazed, Tsuna continued to stroke the boy's jaw and then tipped his chin playfully before pecking his forehead tenderly.

"This is my little brother, Fuuta," He murmured, drawing the prepubescent up to his feet and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "He has some information to share with you."

And then, in a move that would go down in history, the overprotective Ranking Prince glowered darkly at them for nearly a full minute before announcing that that day, he had four lists to present to Vongola Nono any time his 'Tsuna-Nii' wished.

They were as follows:

1. The list of top ten dons of the Vongola Alliance most likely to betray it of its Head and which enemy they were most likely to do so with.

2. The list of top ten Famiglia members with the member families of the Vongola Alliance most likely to betray their respective families to the Alliance and why.

3. The list of top ten most nefarious plots currently being masterminded to upset the balance of the Alliance.

4. The list of top ten most insulting things the Dons of the Vongola Alliance have said about Timoteo de Vongola.

There was horrified, chokingly tense silence for a few long, painful moments as they all, finally, realized strength of the combined force they were up against.

At the head of the gathering, Timoteo erupted with laughter, blessing his successor with all his heart and soul – now this was interesting!

"See?" The coo was revoltingly sweet and chipper even as the boisterous cackles of the current Capo di tutti capi laughed himself half to death. "You were worrying about Mukuro, but it's me and my ruthless streak you should really be afraid of…" Tsuna smiled in a twisted fashion, sadness and satisfaction warring in the depths of his eyes. Just then, thick grey clouds passed over Vongola HQ and blocked the natural illumination shining down from the massive skylight. Without artificial lighting, all was as if it were night, and a pair of glowing amber orbs stood out like a beacon. The gleam of unshakable resolve making them all shudder as a bone-deep chill filled them. "You have until sundown to agree to Mukuro's release and negotiate the details and terms so that I will be given leave to contact the Vendice. One minute after sundown, I will return to work out a deal for your signed consent, or for your heads –your choice."

The daylight returned a minute later, but by then the Tenth Vongola Generation had already silently vanished from the room.

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