Authors Note:

Aaannd I'm back! Yes, I know—uber lame statement but before all that—KHR doesn't belong to me and all the usual flack that goes with it. It pains me to admit that I can only borrow the characters and not really own them—but then again if the story had been left to me—we would all still be waiting for something to happen and no end in sight. So, I for one, thank Amano-sensei's ownership of KHR.

Now, on to better news. I am bringing back a beloved character—if for nothing else than they're fun to work with and they fit the story. It was actually the idea of putting them in another situation that helped me finalize and figure out what I wanted for this story. So I hope that those meeting them again would be happy and those meeting them for the first time feel just as joyful.

Here is my thanks for all those that read "Rules…"

There are no words for what those reviews meant to me. They—at times—inspired a lonely heart to keep on dreaming, believing—living.

A Little Touch of Nevermore

Those are my principles, and if you don't like them

... well, I have others.

Groucho Marx

Firenze (Florence) Italy

6 Days before Doomsday…

The Tuscan sun shone brilliantly in the early hours bringing with it the clear-cut promise of yet another picture-perfect summer day. On this particular morning a tall wiry figure nimbly carrying a tray containing an antique sterling silver coffee service entered a well-decorated study inside one of the country's oldest private homes and greeted the room's sole occupant with ill-disguised cheer.

"Buon giorno il principino."

The greeting was a familiar one—heard countless times during his growing up years and was as familiar and common as the very stone beneath his feet but after a spate of recent events, the nostalgic greeting no longer brought Alessandro Valerius Corvino, 17th Head and heir to the Corvino Famiglia fond memories. As it were, he responded to the words with a grimace and a soft growl that would have done a hibernating bear credit. His response couldn't have been more hostile than had the man greeting him done so with an axe and a shouted threat.

"Mossimo, do me a favor and don't greet me like that again. The last time I heard those self-same words come out of your mouth, you were bringing me a slice of hell concealed amidst innocuous pages of paper that required costly visits to a therapist. I shudder to think of something like that happening again. I've had nightmares that began just like that and I would appreciate it if you don't trigger more memories I would have to talk to my therapist about."

The man addressed had the impudence to give his young employer and master a smirk before settling the elegant coffee service in front of him and pouring out a fragrant stream of the brew into the awaiting sterling silver cup. Handing out the dark liquid to his young master and placing a small plate containing almond biscotti next to the pot, he straightened smoothly and murmured sotto voce:

"Suppose this would be a bad time to tell you of the snippet of rumor a little bird told me then."

Alessandro barely controlled spitting out the hot brew out like an uncouth youth. As it were, he had to quickly swallow down the scalding liquid and grimaced in pain. He pinned his regent with a glared and snorted at the man's inopportune choice of words.

"Un uccellino? A little bird told you? Mossimo are you trying to be funny?"

"Well… I was hoping that it was more than a mere attempt, milord. I suppose that I should work on my material but with one thing or another and the constant contradictory nature of milord's orders I certainly don't have enough time to—!"

"M-o-s-s-i-m-o!"

Without losing a beat, the thin, grave-faced regent whipped out a thin black volume and consulted the penned notations with a glance before closing it and storing it once more somewhere on his person. He took a hold of the pot once more and refreshed his young master's cup murmuring quietly while he did so.

"The rumor came out of the surrounding area near the Head's stronghold…I suppose it's nothing of merit—just ramblings in the communal grapevine but you know how it is. The old-age adage of 'no smoke, if there's no fire' is one that unfortunately holds much truth in our world. I assumed it would interest you but oh well…pay it no mind. I'm sure it's nothing but the usual run of the mill gossip regarding the madness that normally characterizes the head famiglia."

"Mossimo."

The thunk of silver hitting the smooth oak surface echoed loudly in the cavernous room. Without a pause, Mossimo glanced at his clearly irate young boss and inclined his head solicitously.

"Yes, my lord? Do you need anything?"

Alessandro debated for a moment whether he was willing to risk the famiglia's fate to the whim of destiny if he dared to give in to the impulse to murder his willful regent before deciding that he couldn't risk the wrath of hell where Mossimo would inevitably end up especially when he's quite certain the man would be just as mouthy on earth if not more so than he would be in hell.

"Yes. A board big enough to pin your willful wings and tongue on. Now tell me what news has flittered down the vine to your ever-eager ears."

"A board that big might not fit this room, my lord. Certainly it wouldn't improve upon the interior design. Have you any new leanings towards entomology?"

Alessandro slumped back wearily against the silk damask chair he was perched on and pinched the bridge of his nose. With a weary wave of his hand, he gestured for Mossimo to simply speak and this time the regent complied without further ado.

"There is a rumor about a certain highly valued boss…and a conference that may or not may not be attended to discuss a possible merger or settle an argument. Many speculate the clandestine nature and location of the talks since it will take place in foreign climes. They are saying that this certain valued boss may either be in danger or cause some kind of retaliation should the talks break down unfavorably."

"That's not so unusual in our line of work. Such rumors are run of the mill."

"Not when the talk whispers the name of Vongola with the same breath."

Steepling his fingers on his stomach, Alessandro gazed thoughtfully at the scene outside his window, his mind racing with the possibilities and reasons for such an occurrence to take place. His latest conference with other members of the Shadow World revealed no big movements—neither a merger nor a settlement of debt that would warrant a neutral venue outside the realm of Italia.

He pondered the possible consequences should the players be revealed to be a less than reputable boss especially when Mossimo all but hinted that the other party would be most assuredly be the Vongola Decimo. Such a combination could only bring about surprising change or a veritable bloodbath.

"Has it been confirmed that the Decimo is involved?"

"That's the supposition. The rumor certainly has grown in weight since it has been noted that the young Vongola Decimo made arrangements for all his guardians to appear at the same place and time. A most unusual course of affairs—especially since by all accounts, only official famiglia business requires the presence of attendance of all the Vongola Guardians."

At this Alessandro couldn't help but frown. The Alliance knows very well that unlike all other bosses and even all his predecessors before him, the Vongola Decimo did not usually keep the retinue of guardians around him constantly. He allowed them to roam freely and do as they were wont—asking only that they come when summoned. The Vongola Decimo has achieved notoriety for being believed to be too lax in his treatment though no one can deny that his guardians did splendidly in whatever situation he commands them to.

Rising from his seat, Alessandro started pacing around the room, his mind racing…analyzing, contemplating and discarding ideas one after another. He spared a glance towards the pile of papers lying innocuously at his desk awaiting his signature before holding his regent's speculative grey gaze.

"Mossimo."

"Yes my lord?"

"Is there any chance that this might be an elaborate plan to trap or ambush the Vongola Decimo?"

This time around, it was Mossimo who paced around the room, his own gaze thoughtful as his mind shifted through the rumors that floated like so much flotsam in the wide-spread grapevine of the underworld. He didn't want to give any false leads to his own boss. Neither does he want to commit the mistake of underestimating the lengths ambition may drive others.

"The probability of betrayal is a concept that lays concealed under one's intent my lord. I will not give you false promises that this is a simple conference. It might just be that. It might also not be that."

Alessandro could only nod at Mossimo's sagacious advice. But something—some belated sense of concern and unease still rides him and he found himself unable to ignore the simple fact that the Vongola Decimo is playing himself in undue danger.

He isn't naïve enough to think that the Vongola would need rescuing—the family standing at the pinnacle of their world wouldn't have reached such heights had their powers been lacking. No, it wasn't fear that they could be overpowered that causes disquiet to bloom in his heart—it was concern for the pain that he knew would assault the kind-natured Vongola Don. The young don has proven himself to be not only a good ally to the Corvino Famiglia but an even better friend to the Corvino don. He couldn't even imagine the kind of chaos and backlash that would erupt in the underworld should the Vongola Don be felled by an act of treachery.

With a deep sigh, he turned to discuss the matter with his regent when he noted that the man was speaking quietly into the phone and giving instructions to someone. Dismissing it as yet another matter that Mossimo was dealing with in his usual efficient manner, he waited for him to conclude his call before speaking. But before he could even begin to rally his argument for his decision, Mossimo was already gathering the papers on his desk and directing his hand towards the stack that required his signature. Cocking an annoyed brow at his regent for his abruptness, Alessandro stubbornly stayed his hand and glared.

"I wanted to say something to you—!"

"If you would be so kind as to sign all of these—they need to be sent out as soon as possible—and the orders for the renovation of the new headquarters in Naples must be confirmed with your designers. The meeting with your accountants could be handled through video-con and the rest of the negotiations with the heads of the Passero and Pettirosso Famiglia could be rescheduled without any conflict—"

"Mossimo—are you listening to me? I need to speak to you about—what is this?"

"You will need to assign someone to take your place while you are out of the country. Your honorable father is with your beloved mother in a tour of the eternal city and so he would be unavailable. Your honorable and most cunning grandfather, however, expressed some interest in the buildings in Naples. Perhaps it would be best for you to curry his interest and encourage him to take on the project as a means to while the days of his retirement away."

"I-I d-don't—Mossimo—what is—I—you—!" Alessandro could only gape at his regent in chagrin and wonder. A small smile graced the usually firm lines of Mossimo's lips.

"Did I assume correctly that you wish to go to the conference and ensure the safety of the young Vongola?"

Alessandro stared at the man who has been with him ever since he could remember and found himself wondering anew how he ever survived a day without Mossimo. Every single day, in measures both great and small—his regent has proven himself a veritable goldmine of information and possessed of an almost preternatural sense of timing where his desires are concerned.

"Have you found out when this supposed conference's to take place?"

"Speculation is that it would be in a week's time."

Alessandro nodded and he pulled another stack of paper needing his signature closer to himself. With renewed interest, his eyes scanned the documents Mossimo brought to him as his mind considered actions that would need to be taken in the course of his absence.

"And the location?"

Mossimo removed a signed stack and replaced it with another. He waited until all the documents were duly signed and attached a note on the pile that they be notarized and sent to the appropriately people. With a sigh, he silently approached the table and started clearing up the coffee service his young boss used.

"Mossimo? Do you know the location of this supposed conference?"

"Yes, my lord."

Mossimo gave a short nod but Alessandro noted that his regent was now avoiding his gaze. Confused but determined to iron out all the pertinent details as thoroughly as possible, he ignored the twinge of apprehension that snaked up his spine and pressed for the information once more.

"The location?"

Mossimo gave out a weary sigh that did nothing to ease the disquiet in Alessandro's veins. "The Vongola Decimo's place of birth. The town of Namimori in the Japan."

His blood nearly froze when he heard the words that his regent stated in his customary, gravelly voice. For a moment Alessandro wondered if his worry for the young don has affected his hearing but the ungodly amusement burning in Mossimo's gaze was all he needed to tell him that this was no mistake. He did hear him say the words 'Namimori'.

With a shake of his head, he ran a hand across his face and wondered if he was born under a seriously unlucky star.

"Namimori, you say?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Questo è interessante…"

"Isn't it so? Fortunately for you sir, the location poses no problems."

"Oh?"

"Well sir, at least unlike some of the other famiglias who would love to 'drop in' on this impromptu secret meeting—"

"You do know that's quite the contradiction Mossimo. An unexpected secret meeting?"

Alessandro smirked at his regent and was chagrined when the man smirked back before wagging an admonishing finger at him.

"Be that as it may, my lord, at least you have one advantage over the others that would be scrambling to get entry into the small town."

"And what advantage would that be?"

Mossimo stared at his young master and bestowed upon him what Alessandro could only describe as a thoroughly evil smile. The sight was disturbing enough that Alessandro resolved never to find a reason to make his regent do it for another instance.

"Well, for one thing, we certainly know the protocol for claiming admission. Shall I brush up on our negotiating skills with the Foundation?"

Alessandro decided that pride and decorum be damned and enthusiastically banged his head against the antique oak table.

"Merde."

"The table might not appreciate you marring its smooth surface, sir."

"I doubt it has room to complain, Mossimo."

"One might never know."

Another loud thump echoed in the room and the third time the dark head swung down Mossimo intercepted his young lord's head and helped the young boss straighten in his seat. His eyes twinkled in amusement when his grey gaze witnessed the distressed look of frustration sparking his young master's distinctive green-gold eyes.

"I told you—the table is an important antique that has been in your family for six generations. I would not like to be the one to explain to your honorable sires why a dent the same size and shape as your head mars its smooth, delicate surface."

Alessandro gave his regent a loud snort and allowed himself to roll his eyes in irritation.

"You are utterly heartless Mossimo. Why do I keep you near me?"

"Because in all honesty milord, no one else would have you. Now control yourself."

"Che. Better prepare to run a diagnostic on our systems first. I can't afford to have that man deny us again."

"Of course, my lord."

Mossimo picked up the silver coffee service and walked towards the door. He was about to withdraw when Alessandro's voice called out to him once again. Mossimo turned towards his young master and waited patiently for whatever he needed to say.

"And Mossimo?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Make sure that we have a bank draft ready and waiting. I'd hate for the Foundation to come and personally find us just to settle the bill for allowing us into 'HIS' town."

"As ever, a wise and adept decision my lord. I will see to it immediately."

"Make sure that you do. And Mossimo?"

"Yes, my lord?'

This time there was no teasing lilt to his master's voice and Mossimo found himself staring at the man pensively.

"Tell my therapist I look forward to seeing her again."