A Note to The Readers: Hello! It feels like a long time since I've updated. Even if it's only been a week. Well... last week seemed quite long for me, school was tiring and I was constantly exhausted. I had some free time today and decided to use it wisely by not procrastinating on this! It's was strangely difficult to write this one. Maybe because I'm tired... what the heck...

I'd like to give thanks to my new followers, those who liked this story enough to favorite it and to Nea-nyx, akagami, Aines and Devil's Blade for your kind words!

You have now reached the landmark that is chapter ten. There is no going back. You are impressive to have made this far. (人･∀･) (ﾟ∀ﾟ人)

CHAPTER TEN

Gymnopédies

Enomoto Touma is trying his best to keep a straight face, but it's difficult with Rosetta beside him, arms crossed with a half-scowl on her face -he doesn't know her enough to discern the other half. He received a call yesterday evening from his vice-chairman, namely Tetsuya Kusakabe, informing him of an accident. Apparently, a bus struck him and he won't be able to attend the morning lineup. At first, Enomoto was giddy with anticipation. First, it's not every day that the vice-chairman gives you a private phone call. Second, the vice-chairman asked him to lead the lineup, unfortunately as Rosetta's assistant. He politely voiced his opinions as any concerned committee member was ought to do, but the vice-chairman was adamant that the chairman's wife had experience in leading men and that he should show her the ropes. He is not comfortable with the thought of handing leadership to someone he doesn't know, but he trusts the vice-chairman and the truth of it is that the vice-chairman trusts him. Why would he call if he didn't? The thought makes him preen.

Rosetta raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the lineup. The men look at each other uncomfortably.

Rosetta sighs.

"All right men, gather around now," she says, gesturing inwards. Enomoto cringes.

"Hibari-san," he whispers, trying not to look at the blood red armband pinned on her shoulder. It doesn't belong there. It belongs to Tetsuya-san. It belongs to the committee's men who have said their vows. He tries not to think of favoritism. Kusakabe-san is far greater than that. "Hibari-san it's 'attention' not gather around."

She looks up at him. It's necessary to do so, Enomoto is a giant.

"Do you want to do this, Enomoto-san?" Rosetta asks with a small patient smile.

Enomoto blushes despite himself. He looks away, trying to seem invested in the bleak sunrise. It's a trick question, he knows it. She will give him a verbal lashing if he says yes. Or maybe she'll ask him to stand under the sun for disrespecting her authority. He's seen the vice-chairman in his angrier days.

"No Hibari-san," he says, saluting.

Rosetta sighs again, she looks oddly disappointed. It feels like a victory to Enomoto. He doesn't allow it to trick him. He knows she's only disappointed because she has no reason to yell at him. She's the chairman's wife, after all, a terrifying woman to have snared the heart of Namimori's demon chief.

"Don't salute. I'm not Tetsuya-san."

"You are in his shoes now, Hibari-san," he salutes again, shining with keenness.

"Massive shoes," she mumbles. Rosetta looks around, clicking her tongue at the men. "Oi! What did I say? I said to gather around!" For a second they look at each other in confusion. Obviously, she loses her patience because she yells again. "What are you? Scattered hens? Lineup!"

The men straighten and arrange themselves in perfect lines. Enomoto counts fifty of Namimori's best. Rosetta crosses her arms once more, assessing the men with a burningly intense look.

"Enomoto-san, Tetsuya-san told me you can speak Mandarin," Rosetta whispers in the said language, narrowing her gaze at the sight of Sakamoto's sweaty forehead. Enomoto notes to remind Sakamoto to stay hydrated.

"Yes I can," Enomoto replies in the same tongue, slightly elated. "My mother was from Sichuan."

"That explains the accent," she mumbles. "What does Tetsuya-san usually do?"

Enomoto swells with pride. "We sing the school anthem, ma'am."

"The school anthem?" Rosetta deflates with what it seems to be sheer embarrassment. Again, Enomoto doesn't allow her artlessness to trick him. "And then what?"

Enomoto can see apprehension among the ranks. He answers quickly. "We make sure our uniform is immaculate."

"Including the hair?"

He nods brightly. "Especially the hair, ma'am."

A pained sound slips from her throat as she scans the crowd.

"Are you sure you'd rather be my assistant? Tetsuya-san said you're eager for a promotion. Are you sure you'd rather have me on the helm?"

Enomoto smiles to himself. She's quite cunning. But he's hasn't earned the vice-chairman's trust for being easily swayed. He tells her that the helm is hers alone.

Rosetta says something in Italian, a few curses if Enomoto is correct. Perhaps she is lamenting the fact that he is quite tenacious. He always believes he is smarter than he looks, this is proof. Another victory for the disciplinary committee.

"All right men," she says lamely, waving a hand. "You can all start checking your hair and… and…stuff."

"Tetsuya-san, I can't do it," Rosetta's voice echoes over the phone.

Tetsuya cracks his swollen eyes open. He's at the infirmary at home, under the warm sheets of Rosetta's bed. Her pillow smells like lavender.

"We don't have any choice," he mumbles, taking the phone from Iwasaki-sensei, voicing his thanks. The doctor moves to the massive windows, pulling the curtains open to let the light in. Tetsuya blocks his eyes with his arm.

"I have a choice," she says sharply. His phone's speakers make her sound a touch waspish. Water damage perhaps… Kyoya chased him far into the koi pond yesterday. The gardeners are furious. Rosetta continues: "but you don't have one. Your committee is terrible." He can hear the Namimori anthem playing over her voice, oddly enough; he feels a sense of bliss.

"There is nothing wrong with our committee, it's a well-oiled machine."

"It's your committee."

"Ah," Tetsuya says, understanding dawns to him, and he tells her, chuckling: "you're still young to be embarrassed about how the committee presents itself as a singular unit."

Rosetta breathes in. "Enomoto-san says that the hair is good for morale."

"Represents unity."

"And somehow you've given up on yours?" She growls into his ear after a period of silence. "Young enough to be embarrassed my ass. You're embarrassed too!" She continues, unrepentant. "I'll hand the operation to Enomoto-san."

"Enomoto doesn't understand how to file my paperwork–"

"And now it's my job?" She trills. "How the hell did you get yourself too beaten to stand?"

"I told you," Tetsuya says slowly, with much patience in his tone, "I didn't fight back, Kyo-san must have thought I was insulting him by staying still."

"Enomoto-san said you were hit by a bus. Why did– never mind, we've had this conversation before. You'll just lead me in circles."

"I will," Tetsuya agrees. He has been too embarrassed to say what Kyoya punished him for, despite much goading from Rosetta. He's not sure either if it's for something he's done in the past or an accumulation of his mistakes. He imagines a cup full of his sins, spilling over from the weight of his inability to recognize Mukuro. Again, he reminds himself that he's not at fault. His tone softens then, much less professional and far more appropriate for friends, and for pleading favors. "It's only for a few days until I can get up on my feet. The men are good people–"

"Stop that." Rosetta sounds genuinely annoyed. "Half of them are criminals."

"You are a criminal," Tetsuya says too quickly.

"Do you think I was claiming moral ground?" She nearly yells. He inches the phone away from his ear. "I know better than that!"

"Rosetta-san, I'm asking help as a friend."

"As a friend! True friends don't say that!"

"And I assume you have a lot of experience to draw that conclusion from?"

She is silent for a beat.

"It sounds like you're using me."

Tetsuya's voice hardens, "you can't trick me by playing the victim. You have to work on your sincerity. Besides, I'll pay you back two-fold."

An embarrassed grumble escapes from her throat. The anthem behind her dies down. In ten minutes he knows that the late-comers will begin filing in. If Kyoya is in a good mood he'll make an appearance. He wishes for the opposite, just this once.

"Fine," Rosetta says after a long period of grudging silence. "Fine," she says again, it sounds better. "I'll do what I can but only until I lose all patience. If I do, I'll hand authority to Enomoto-san. Is that okay?"

Tetsuya allows himself to feel relieved. "Thank you."

"Now, how do I order Enomoto-san to stop saluting?"

Yamazaki is earning notoriety points ever since he decided that lateness is an effective method to rebel against the iron hold of the Disciplinary Committee. Yeah, that's it, rebellion. He's definitely rebelling. He is not late because he secretly watches dramas in the wee hours of the morning, definitely not.

He finds that if he squeals, pleads and whimpers on the ground, the committee lets him go with a simple cuff in the ears. Today, just after he's on his hands and feet, Hibari-san saunters to him, face pinched with impatience.

She eyes him distastefully. "What are you doing?" She asks, "are you a man or an animal?"

"Hibari-san," he says in awe and judging by the dark look that crosses her face, she's tired of seeing the same response.

"Get up."

There's no choice but to listen to her. She has the armband and most of the committee is behind her, imposing albeit looking a touch awkward.

"Why are you late?" She asks, bringing out a clipboard.

"Why am I…. late?" Yamazaki repeats nervously, standing up. The grit under his palms feels uncomfortable. He tries to wipe it off with the cloth of his pants and grimaces as dirt smears against it. He can already hear his mother's complaints.

Hibari-san groans. "Christ," she says, massaging the bridge of her nose "what do they teach you in this school? Why are you fifteen minutes late?"

Behind her, Enomoto-san slams his fist against his palm and leers. Enomoto-san's build is intimidating on its own.

Yamazaki is terrified.

Hibari-san looks back and swats Enomoto-san's fist with a snarl.

"Stop that!" she says and then she turns to him, "why the hell are you late? I just need to write it down and then you're free to go."

"I didn't wake up on time," he says, too startled to think of a lie. Hibari-san watches him expectantly. "I –uh…" he peers at Enomoto-san's imposing figure, to the men on the back with their arms crossed and their brows furrowed. He decides it's not worth to rebel, that he values his life more than his reputation. This is the chairman's wife after all. According to Fujioka-san she went up to the chairman's father and demanded marriage when she was twelve. Kusakabe-san has always been strict, but he has always been fair. And now he's gone, probably rotting in a gutter somewhere, replaced with the wife.

" –I –uh…. –I…."

He looks up at her eyes, iridescent and bright in the way how light hits glass. Hibari-san smiles. It's a terrible smile that weakens his knees, sharp like knives and imperious in its beauty. Yamazaki is breathless, finds himself terrified out of his wits.

"I'm sorry! Hibari-san I'm sorry. I was watching Korean drama! I was– I'm sorry! I'll be early from now on! I'll be early!" His knees hit the ground painfully. "I'm so sorry!"

Hibari-san is oddly silent, he braves looking up after a whole minute of his face plastered on the ground. There's nothing behind her eyes. Yamazaki shivers.

"Just–" she sighs looking away, her eyebrows scrunched. "Just…Go to class."

Relief floods his features, he grapples with his bag and flees to his classroom, adamant to save himself if she decides to flog him. The chairman's wife must be in a good mood. Tonight, he's going watch his drama to celebrate.

"Hibari-san," Enomoto calls when the student is out of her sight. "Are you alright?"

Rosetta's mood sours further. She tried to give the poor student a nice smile, perhaps to coax him into talking. It wasn't effective. Her confidence wanes as he's not the first one to beg. One of her classmates cried, apologizing profusely as she clutched her bag as if Rosetta will uncoil from her mortal form and swallow her alive.

She sees Gokudera's silhouette from the school gate. He's late too. Well, that's expected.

"Don't call me Hibari-san," she says, avoiding the question. "You can call me Rosetta-san, please. You've been putting up with me since morning." Plus, Hibari-san will always be the boss to her. Hearing his name passed around casually makes her skin crawl.

"Nice try," Enomoto chuckles to himself as she tries not to roll her eyes.

"Gokudera-san, please hurry up!" she calls. "You're late for class!"

Gokudera leers and to her exasperation, walks slower, flipping off committee members who try and berate him. Rosetta raises a hand to stop the men from attacking him. Most of the committee's men are excellent fighters when pitted against civilians but Gokudera is a seasoned combatant. Blood will be shed. "I'll handle him later," she lies to placate their mood.

"Attack him when he least expects it I see," Enomoto nods sagely. "You're exceptional, Hibari-san."

Rosetta sighs.

Her lunch is miso soup, a cup of rice, fish, and a bowl of seasonal vegetables swimming in bland broth. Rosetta didn't bother to prepare breakfast that morning to the joy of the household maids who, for once, doesn't have to clean after her. She is holding her tray of food, eyeing Tetsuya's very organized desk when her husband walks in.

"You're supposed to be in class," Kyoya points out. They regard each other openly, he and his bloody uniform, polished shoes, perfectly pressed trousers, and his weapons caked with flaking blood and she, tucked under a thick blue knitted sweater -one of Rita's later projects- and the committee armband pinned on her shoulder. He narrows his eyes at the sight of that.

"I want to, but…Tetsuya-san asked me to assist him." Rosetta puts her tray down on Tetsuya's desk, lifting a stack of folders. "I didn't know you have several pending cases. Aggravated assault, battery, assault with a deadly weapon… this pile can land you thirty years of jail time."

"They'll dismiss it," Kyoya says, rounding to his desk. He opens his drawer and finds his cleaning rag, washed and pressed. Rosetta notes that she needs to replace that every morning. "What are you doing here?"

"I just said-"

"I didn't ask you to come here, you're not needed."

"I'm trying to help someone you put in the infirmary," she says slowly. "If work piles up, it will trouble for all of us." Not to mention she has her own work to do. Tetsuya is the largest working cog in Namimori, despite Ryuusei's treatment of him.

"The committee is no place for a non-combatant."

Rosetta slams her fist on the table. The desk rattles, a pen holder crashes to the floor, one of the pencils roll accusingly to her feet. Then she curls inward, clutching her aching hand. That was a mistake. "Kyoya-san, I wasn't able to sleep last night and my day has been terrible and it's not even two in the afternoon." She rubs her face. "I'm not asking for kindness, but some courtesy will be appreciated. My presence here is thankfully temporary. If I don't file his paperwork, you will have to do it. And I don't think you want to."

He looks sharply at her but says nothing.

"Thank you," Rosetta says, wrestling a clipboard from her bag. She sorts Tetsuya's paperwork and files the more important ones into her bag. The man codes his files meticulously, colored markers and tab dividers. It's difficult not to get cross-eyed when she dives into her husband's court cases. She's always been at odds with the law. She doesn't know how Tetsuya can bear to read this. She calls him and finds out that she needs to meet with Kyoya's lawyer.

"I'll arrange someone else to do it," she says, thinking of Enomoto.

"Fujioka is a better speaker," Tetsuya replies. Rosetta doesn't know who Fujioka is; they all look the same to her.

"Fine, is there anything else?"

"I also need you to–"

She ends the call with a grimly satisfied look on her face. Her phone rings immediately, but she tosses it in her bag and continues filing until she can't handle Kyoya's pervasive stare.

"What is it?" She asks, trying to smile.

"You disapprove of my work."

Rosetta opens her mouth, breathes and then looks at him with her eyebrows raised, her irritation is momentarily forgotten. She folds down a ledger filled with salary accounts. Talking to Kyoya sometimes felt like running through a minefield with a blindfold on, not that she didn't appreciate his latest efforts.

"This is getting confusing. What are we talking about?"

"You don't like the disciplinary committee."

"There's nothing much to like about it," Rosetta says after weighing the pros and cons of lying. Telling the truth seems to be the best option for her in the long run. "They're a fine group, I admit, but there's not much it can do but to terrorize citizens. You could save more time and money by using your father's resources."

"Hn," Kyoya looks away.

That must have been the wrong thing to say. Ordinarily, she wouldn't care, but he has been oddly warm to her, warmer at least, compared to his frigid attitude when she first arrived. She likes him better when he's not actively threatening her.

"No," she says, "I'll take that back."

"Trying to appeal to my vanity are you?" Kyoya leans back on his seat and lifts his feet up the table.

"I'm thinking that you don't say nor do things without purpose," Rosetta continues filing, careful not to exude any sign of discomfort. Of course she's trying to appeal to his vanity! "The disciplinary committee might be a gang of thugs, but I guess they're far more useful as they are now rather than before. You have several parolees loyal to you. That is impressive stuff."

She peers at him. He's staring back, quite surprised.

"What I don't like is this," she gestures to the assault charges.

His surprise fades to wariness. Rosetta reminds herself that he is cleaning his weapons, not brandishing them. Kyoya is not Enomoto.

"You don't like to involve yourself with the law?"

Rosetta bends down to clear the scattered pens. "Not even the mafia can avoid the law. There are the Vendicare Policies and the normal law. You can bend both to your favor if you're smart enough." She looks at him again, he's still staring. "I think it's unnecessary to have so many charges in your name, regardless whether or not the police dismisses their complaints. This might bite you in the ass in the future."

His lip curls at her use of language, but adds nothing to the conversation.

"Who is this even?" Rosetta says after five minutes of silence, opening a file of complaint. "Fuchida Arata…" She looks at the address and blinks. "He's Kyoko's neighbor…" There's a photo attached. The poor man is mottled with large bruises, and his jaw was sewed shut after Kyoya broke it to pieces. "What did he do to you?"

"He beats his children."

Rosetta looks at the man again, he seems so unassuming. It shouldn't be a surprise to her, even the Vongola Ninth looks like a harmless old man. She brings out a new folder. "How about this guy?"

"Rapist."

He is now paralyzed from the waist down. That's strangely humorous to her. Her lip twitches in a small smile.

"The police can't handle him?"

"The woman didn't report."

Rosetta inspects a few more pictures, scans through a few folders.

"I don't think my opinion matters to you, whether I like or dislike what you do in your spare time," Rosetta tries after she's read through all, feeling a burst of bizarre affection in her chest. This doesn't prove that he's a good man, but it proves that he's not entirely disgusting. A skewed sense of justice is still justice… or is it? She needs to ask Iwasaki-sensei. "But I appreciate what you do for Namimori."

She risks another glance at him. Kyoya doesn't reply. She exhales. Good, she said the right thing, and she has been honest about it.

Kyoya straightens eventually, just as she's done with the rest of the papers and asks her to put her bag down.

"What for?" Rosetta asks, dialing Tetsuya again.

"We're going on patrol."

Rosetta pauses. "We're–I am… You just came back from one." She watches him tuck his weapons back, now bloodless.

"The men don't respect you. You need to fix that. Accompany me."

Her face flushes in embarrassment. Tetsuya answers the phone, but she shuts it. "Of course they don't respect me. They think it's nepotism." She wouldn't touch Tetsuya's position if he didn't nearly go to his knees and beg last night. It was humiliating for both of them. And besides, she has paperwork to do. "Kyoya-san, I can't."

He lifts his chin. He looks like his father this way. Even in his best moods, Rosetta knows better than to point that out.

"Why not?" He asks.

She gestures to Tetsuya's paperwork, but even that seems to be a weak argument.

"Fine," she says, trying to keep her tone light. "Where are we going? Do I need to bring an umbrella?"

He is unmoved by her smile.

"Not if you want respect," he looks out the window, "this should put color to your skin. Come."

" –that's all we found out. Are you sure you want to call off the investigation?"

"It's all I need. You'll receive your payment before sunset," Reborn says over the phone. The Hibari household is still under repair. It's been two months since Mukuro destroyed the house. Reborn has no doubt that Ryuusei is prolonging repairs. If the man was home, the worker's efficiency would be very different. Winter is afoot and the chill seeping like fog under Tsuna's bedroom door is unwelcome.

"Is that business?" Tsuna asks, sweating through two shirts at once. He's doing homework, mathematics. There's a protractor on his desk and several crayons. It's a mess. Reborn plans to ask Tsuna to rewrite his work, teachers care about neatness. A few points might pull his grades from abysmal to laughable.

"If it is, it's not yours," Rita says with her usual pleasant mask. "Come on, you only have two questions left."

"I'm not gonna get it right anyway," Tsuna whines.

Rita smacks him over the head.

"Ow! Even Hibari-san doesn't hit me!" Tsuna rubs the back of his head.

"The madam is busy," Rita says, although she inspects Tsuna's skull for damage. "She found me loitering in the kitchens and directed me to you."

"You're not being paid to be my tutor though," Tsuna points out, reluctantly taking his pen. The next question asks about the distance from point b to c from a very complicated looking triangle. He groans.

"But I'm useful here," Rita says. "The senior maids saw me sweeping the garden and nearly tied me to a chair."

"Well, you were shot," Tsuna slowly puts his pen down, elated that nobody notices. Right until Reborn whacks him in the hand.

"Yes," Rita says, thawing. "And I know Kusakabe-san re-employed me early so I can feed my grandparents."

Tsuna opens his mouth.

Rita tries to hide a fond smile. "The madam also warned me that if I chat you up, she'll be very disappointed."

Tsuna closes his mouth.

"Where is she?" Reborn asks the maid.

"Well," Rita leans back, trying not to aggravate her stitches. "I heard from the men that the boss was able to dispose of Sergio Provenzano. Didn't leave a body to bury. The madam must be in a conference with the boss again, it's not wise to disturb her. She might be in one of her moods again."

"Indeed," Reborn says neutrally.

Tsuna looks like he has something to say but Reborn pins him with a look. The boy swallows audibly then he shakes his head. Rosetta has rubbed off him. "What do you mean didn't leave a body to bury?" his voice wavers though.

Rita's face pales a little. "They said the boss found a café in the city, evacuated it and planted Sergio in with a ton of explosives. Sergio took seven men to his death when Nicodemo tried to rescue him. It's all over the news."

"What the fuck," Tsuna says.

"Language!" Rita berates him.

Tsuna reddens. "I'm sick and tired of this," he says, without aplomb. "I hate this… I hate all of these killings. I'm tired of this mafia business and I'm tired of dragging my friends into it."

Tsuna stands and shakes off Rita's hand when she puts it on his shoulder.

Reborn clicks his tongue. "Tsuna, if this is about Dino the other day–"

"It's not about Dino-san" Tsuna yells, and seems to swallow his tongue when Reborn visibly frowns. Dino went by to visit days ago to Rosetta's veiled suspicion. They climbed up the Death Mountain again for training. Ryohei fell down a cliff face and broke his arm, trying to save Yamamoto who ended up uninjured. "Everyone is killing each other for the stupidest reasons," Tsuna whispers.

Reborn rolls his eyes.

"I can't believe you're not taking me seriously," Tsuna says, going even redder.

"That's because you're being stupid."

"I only want my friends safe."

"Who do you think your friends are?" Reborn says before he shuts his mouth with an audible click. He rarely loses his patience. He normally catches himself before he says something he'll regret. With Tsuna, he realizes now that he needs to be careful. He's getting attached to the boss candidate. He remembers Luce and lets out a bitter sound. It jolts Tsuna from his roundabout thoughts of self-depreciation. Tsuna looks at him in a way an entomologist does to a collection of pinned insects. It's likely that Tsuna doesn't know he does this when his intuition flickers to life. Another reason why his classmates dislike him.

"Yamamoto-kun isn't a civilian, isn't he? And Sasagawa-niisan…"

"Ryohei is an impressive civilian." Reborn manages. The crawling feeling under his skin dies when Tsuna looks away.

"And Yamamoto-kun?"

Reborn wonders if he should prevaricate, but decides against it.

"His father worked for Ryuusei until he suffered a permanent injury. He's retired now."

"Like Kusakabe-san?"

"Tsuyoshi was Ryuusei's favored hitman. He was excellent in his field."

Tsuna's lips fold into a thin line.

"You chose my friends for me, didn't you?"

"I did," Reborn admits. "But they chose you."

Tsuna meets his eyes. "Hibari-san said if I really want to learn anything from you I should listen carefully to what you say."

"And she's correct."

"She is," Tsuna agrees. "How long did my father plan my future for me?"

The room goes frigid. Rita clears her throat. "I think I remember Noya-san telling me to tidy up the pantry." She shoots Tsuna a worried look and limps out with her crutches.

"Why the sudden interest?" Reborn settles on Tsuna's bed, his hands on his knees.

"I will not answer that," Tsuna says, trying not to cringe at himself. "I'm listening carefully to what you're saying and you've been avoiding questions about the Vongola."

Reborn's lip twists in a way it does before he says something scathing.

"Because you're not ready yet," he says instead.

"When will I be ready?"

"When I say so," Reborn frowns. "If you want to interrogate me, you've already lost."

"I'm not trying to interrogate you," Tsuna looks pained now. He doesn't even want to look at Reborn in the eyes by this point. His hands are shaking too, likely cool and clammy. Confrontation is never his strong suit, not even to someone with the physical age of five. Tsuna hasn't slept well since they went down from the mountain either. Reborn observes the little details and hides it in a box, to open it for later when he's strong enough to bear the guilt. Tsuna has always differed from Dino, who grew into adulthood knowing he'd lead his famiglia one day. What he sees in Tsuna is what he gets, or at least, that's what he foolishly thought.

"I want to know the truth, the whole of it," Tsuna says in a small voice.

"I vowed to keep secrets, Tsuna. I can't tell you everything," Reborn's jaw clicks.

Tsuna slumps on his seat. "You think I deserve to know something, though, don't you? You try to make the mafia look fun. I notice it sometimes. But I also see Hibari-san and… this." He gestures to his room. "I miss my mom, but sometimes I don't want to go home. I feel like I might bring the mafia to her." He tops this with a sad chuckle that sounds pathetic even to his ears.

"I'll tell you. I promise, but for now, I need you to trust me," Reborn says.

"I trust you," Tsuna says, with his innate honesty that the hitman always found fascinating.

Rosetta doesn't move from her spot when the door slides open. She has familiarized herself with the tread of her companions after the unfortunate accident in the infirmary. Tsuna, akin to his outwardly fragile bone structure plods around like an oversized bird. Tetsuya glides, unlike the others. Iwasaki gallops. Kyoko walks evenly, heel to toes in short strides. Hana stomps like a bear. Kyoya walks like Kyoko, except his long legs allow for more space between his footfalls.

Reborn walks soundlessly.

He blinks at her state, curled atop a dusty crate of children's clothes. Possibly Mutsuo's judging from the sheer amount, parents tend to over-purchase clothing for the first child. She's at the attic, or at one of the attics. Reborn isn't sure if he's been in this part of the house before. He needed to interview sixteen staff before he could piece out a generalization of where Rosetta is. It was a tiresome process, one that left him in a sour mood.

"Are you all right?" Reborn tries with politeness.

She peers at him through her eyelashes, knees hugged against her chest. She's grown a touch tanned from following her husband around in his afternoon patrols for a week until Tetsuya could take over. Color suits her, she looks healthier.

"You're not exactly welcome here, Reborn-sensei. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow."

His face twitches.

"Civility necessitates that I tell you as soon as possible," Reborn pauses, looking around to Rosetta's displeasure. He finds no one, senses nothing, although he can hear the muffled chirps of a canary nest by the glass window. The yellow birds have been dropping by ever since the Kokuyo incident. Perhaps they followed their master's killer home. He looks around again and his eyes land on the singular piece of furniture without a slight film of dust.

It's not furniture. It's an upright piano. Beside it is a table covered in a dust sheet. There are a glass and a pitcher of water sitting atop, along with her cellphone. She's been there for a while.

"It's the middle of the night," he remarks, jumping up to stand on the crate she's sitting on. "Can they hear you?"

Rosetta bites her lip, clearly embarrassed to have turned into that deep of a scarlet. "The music –the noise is muffled if you close the door. I haven't heard of any complaints yet."

"Can you still play?" Reborn doesn't look at the scar on her hand. Doing so would be fruitless. Rosetta didn't bother to open the lights.

"It's terrible."

"Will you play for me?"

"The piano is not tuned."

"I don't mind."

Rosetta turns away, lip curling into a halfhearted grimace. She will reject him. He expects as much and is wholly surprised when she concedes. "Children's songs, nothing else," she says and purses her lips. "But it will sound bad," she warns.

She puts her hands on the keys and hesitates.

"I want the door closed, please." She gestures to the wide opening behind her. It's their only light source.

"There's nobody in this part of the house," Reborn assures her.

She seems to consider before she nods and stares at her fingers for a while, clenching and unclenching her fists. Outwardly nothing seems to be off with her left hand, but eventually, he sees it. A minor tick, two of her fingers seem to tremble ever so slightly.

Rosetta breathes in and plays.

It doesn't sound like a children's lullaby. The music she plays is vaguely familiar, slow and sleepy and nostalgic in an uncomfortable way. Reborn doesn't really enjoy music, it's beautiful, yes, but he never found the urge to seek actively the stimulation. Nevertheless, he can identify the oddity of her performance, small mistakes peppered between the lilting melodies. She plays two more pieces until she makes another mistake and stops halfway through the final song.

"You can laugh," she says, exhaling, showing her teeth. It's more of a wince than a smile. "I'm sorry. I should have refused you."

"It's not funny," Reborn pushes up from his seat, propping himself higher. He's now atop a stack of crates marked as old silverware, smelling lightly of old pine. "When did you first learn?"

"Learned it on my mother's lap, then from my tutors when I surpassed her," she says this with a hint of pride. Then her face falls.

"I'm sorry that it happened," he gestures to her hand.

"Actions have consequences," Rosetta mutters, waving his platitudes off as if his words were a swarm of mosquitoes. "What is the use of music if one is not alive to hear it?"

Reborn's lips twist into a frown so prominent that she notices it even in the dark.

"Did I say something wrong?" She asks, mirroring his expression.

"I found your family's killers," Reborn says without pause, searching for contrition.

To her credit, she doesn't tense. Rosetta drags her fingers down her skirt and patiently waits for him to continue.

Reborn sighs. "It's the Varia."

"I had a feeling it was," she says honestly after a long uncomfortable pause. "Will you tell me who gave the order? Or who paid them? Or does that require another favor?" She's not looking at him, good. She's not crying too, even better.

"Your mother played the piano well," Reborn starts.

She shoots him a disappointed glare, but follows his train thought anyways. "I didn't know you knew her."

"She was ambitious."

"And she hated her children eventually when they grew," Rosetta says without malice.

"But she was ambitious," Reborn presses. "She strengthened your family with allies."

"By opening her legs to men who'd do so little as to look at her twice," Rosetta replies dismissively.

Reborn shakes his head. "I thought you liked her."

"I love her still and I always think about her, but that doesn't mean I can't see her flaws. My father grew cold when I turned eleven. I grew to look too much like her."

"She was the one who wanted you to marry Xanxus."

Rosetta's lip curls as the distance between them grow. "Horse trading. Look how that played out. Nobody wanted him you know? He was insane." The women lined up for Massimo instead, the ninth's second son, even when he was a known philanderer.

"Do you know what happened to him after the massacre?"

"Everyone knows," Rosetta says, looking away. "It was even in the news."

"Tell me."

"I don't see the point of this conversation."

Reborn breathes through his nose in irritation. "As much as you'd like to deny it, you do talk like your husband. Play along with me, unless you have something far more important to do."

Pink dusts her cheeks. She hasn't learned to control that impulse yet, perhaps in a few years. Reborn knows a handful of women who could blush at will.

Rosetta yields.

"Xanxus, newly minted as the chief of the Varia, and his assassins and numerous insurgents staged an unsuccessful coup d'état against the ninth. His whereabouts now are unknown. I think he's in jail. Rumor says he's in Vendicare."

"Never heard about that rumor."

"He involved civilians," she points out. The Varia reduced a whole block of housing to rubble to annihilate Coyote, the ninth's storm guardian. The man survived, but lost an arm in battle.

"What do you think went wrong?" Reborn asks. "Why do you think Xanxus lost?"

"If you're planning to ask me to teach Sawada-san about mafia strategy, I'll tell you now I'm not the correct person for this." She's facing him now, and the light from the outside reveals that beyond her wide eyes she's battling to stay composed. Reborn thinks she already knows what he will tell her and that she already knew for a long time.

"Again, why do you think Xanxus lost?"

"Not with that tone please, I am not your student," she bristles at first, but concedes. "Xanxus lost because he wasn't patient," Rosetta says, as she presses her fist against her mouth. "He would have become the tenth, eventually, if he wanted. He's far more powerful than his siblings. If the ninth wanted another heir he could always choose to opt for an inheritance battle." Her brows furrows. "Unless…"

Reborn holds his breath.

"Unless the ninth thought he was too insane to lead the family."

Reborn exhales.

"And even if he wanted to rebel, Xanxus didn't have enough men either. The Vongola consisted then of nearly ten thousand, the Varia had–"

Rosetta shuts her mouth. Reborn was mistaken then, she didn't know.

"Are you kidding me?" She says, pressing her palm against her forehead. "Are you fucking… my famiglia had five thousand men back then and if my dad died and his heirs died and if Xanxus held true to his claim then…"

"If he was able to marry you, then he would have had enough men for the coup. You were never supposed to die with them," Reborn's voice is soothing. "It's not your–"

"Motherfucker!" She yells. Her blank shock burns into tight-eyed anger. The water pitcher reflects it perfectly. She throws it against the nearest wall. It shatters.

"Hibari-chan–"

"No, shut up."

"Don't do anything stupid!" Reborn yells back. It doesn't calm her down. Rosetta grabs the glass, tempted to hurl it to the arcobaleno. "Don't do anything you might regret later on."

"He killed my family," Rosetta snarls. "He killed my family for something as stupid as–"

"And devoting your life to kill him won't bring them back. Calm down, they've been dead for–"

Rosetta throws the glass at his feet. Awakened from his slumber, Leon turns into a gun.

"I don't care about justice, I want to get even."

"Get even with what?" Reborn asks, infuriatingly patient. "You said it yourself, you're nothing now. Sit down before you embarrass yourself further."

"Don't act as if you care," she says, knees weakening. "Xanxus is still part of the Vongola. You have a duty to him."

"I do have a duty to him. Now think about why I said this."

She hides her face from him, rubbing her eyes with the back of her wrist.

"Why?" Her voice cracks.

"Because it's the truth and because I expect you to use it to your advantage." Pragmatic as always. Leon transforms back into a lizard.

"Fuck off," Rosetta says, still facing away from him. Reborn tips his hat at her and moves to the hallway. He's surprised when he sees Kyoya leaning by the wall, with his arms across his chest. They can hear Rosetta sobbing inside, the girl is trying her best to be quiet.

For a second, Reborn is afraid that Kyoya might do something stupid and impulsive. He always had more courage than sense. Then he reminds himself that he shouldn't tie himself with the affairs of the Hibari. Ryuusei might be a fair player, but he isn't a friend, not like the ninth was. Ryuusei is merely a fleeting ally.

He tips his hat to him.

Kyoya gives him a quick nod and tilts his head to the right when they hear Rosetta curse.

"You should go to her," Reborn whispers without thinking.

Kyoya doesn't look at him. "No," he says. "She's weak, but she's not pathetic."

A Note to the Reader: (」ﾟДﾟ」(」ﾟДﾟ」(」ﾟДﾟ」(」ﾟДﾟ」(」ﾟДﾟ」

Yo. See you next week, or in a few days. Comments and suggestions are always welcome!

Gymnopédies is a set of piano pieces composed by a French pianist named Eric Satie. I don't play the piano myself, I toot the flute. (*＾∀゜) But it was playing while I was writing the last bits of this chapter. It's a piece that can be subject to different interpretations. If you're unfamiliar with it, you can listen to it on youtube, as Reborn described it, it's nostalgic!