"I'm sorry."

Those were words that Tsuna had never expected to hear from his father. He choked and tried not to spit out the obviously expensive wine. "What?"

Iemitsu's expression was sad—any attempt at his usual goofiness missing from the moment the door closed. "I'm sorry," he repeated

It made sense now, why Iemitsu had pulled him away from the others discreetly. His excuse had been something about Tsuna finally being old enough to share a glass with his old man.

"This is my mess. You should never have been involved." Iemitsu placed his glass down on the table.

The glass of wine Tsuna had been handed didn't give enough of a grounding feeling for him

"It's our family's mess. Would you rather not have had a son?"

The response was immediate, sharp, "No."

"Good. Sometimes I wasn't sure. You weren't around for me to know that," Tsuna snapped. He

sure his own expression was broken now, a bit too much emotion. He was regretting drinking at all.

There were too many complicated feelings towards his father, their work, and their family's bloody history.

"I know."

The smell of alcohol was sharp and strong in the silence, but not unpleasant. The odor had definitely seeped into the wood of his father's office. It was accompanied by the scent of paper and ink, the physical result of running Vongola's information and front businesses.

Tsuna's anger was gone now. He couldn't use it to fuel him anymore. Saddened by this and not surprised, he gathered up the courage he had, beaten into him with bruises and broken bones. He asked the hardest question he ever had to. What he wanted to do ever since knowing that I wasn't normal his father was never home. "Why?"

"My goal in life for twenty years was making you and Nana ghosts in this world. I failed."

"And now what?"

"Making sure neither of you become ghosts before I do."

That was a bit too raw of an admission. Although, all of this had been a raw, painful conversation they should have had when Reborn first showed up.

"Mine is that none of us do," Tsuna muttered.

Iemitsu nodded and picked up his glass again, then shrugged. It was obvious how jaded his work made him towards his own life.

There was much Tsuna could be taught by Iemitsu. However, it wasn't that logic that led to say anything, it was the sudden desperation that he might never get another chance like this—maybe he would never get another time to drink privately like this. The one time Iemitsu would make a chance to connect with his almost adult son. "To make it up to me….I haven't had a chance to get to know my father. I would like to."

"I can deal with that." There was relief in Iemitsu's voice. His shoulders sagged down. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you really join Vongola?"

A hint of sharp teeth was the first sign Tsuna was in for quite the tale. "It's that funny?"

Iemitsu barked out a laugh and threw an arm around Tsuna's shoulders. "Xanxus hated me, still does because of this. He always takes everything personally….not unlike Reborn in some ways."

Tsuna agreed. He just didn't say it outloud. For some reason, Reborn always knew when he was dissed by Tsuna.

Iemitsu takes another swig of his wine and whispers, as if it's a secret, "No one talks about it for a reason—just how insane my entrance on the grand stage of the mafia was."

"Really?" Tsuna raised his eyebrows. He really was curious.

"I embarrassed so many families that day. You have no idea, son." Iemitsu was all but cackling at this point. He had always been a wild card factor it seemed.

Tsuna leaned back and listened to a story from forty years ago he would have never found so enjoyable if not for who was narrating it.

A/N

*Opens door to fandom, throws in drabble, and runs*

On a more serious note, it's been a while since I wrote khr fic. I have quite a lot of nostalgia for this fandom. Good to be back, let's say, even if that doesn't last long.

—Silver