A/N: I blame the late update on writer's block and summer homework. On a side note, I ended up making a very big change of plans on this story. Uh, I'll elaborate on that at the end of the chapter.

And is it me, or are these chapters getting sappier and sappier? (facepalm) Must insert more crack somehow. The seriousness is becoming overwhelming! Otherwise I might have to resort to shitty omakes to preserve the light humor. DON'T HURT ME!

Chapter 12

There were many things about Mukuro Rokudo that one needed to know to scrap through with limbs attached and lifespan only shortened minimally (as in, twenty years if you're lucky) after an encounter.

He was scary. Likeably evil and evilly batshit insane; nightmare fuel personified, if you wanted to reduce him to a mere string of letters and words and fanfiction galore. He's been to hell and back, bearing a pretty red eye that laid bare all the fears in the world and then shoved them in your mind like applesauce being channeled through an IV needle into the tongue. And you know what? He'd be smiling during the whole process. Smiling the sweetest smile that could reduce any girl into a puddle of swooning blob while he figuratively and not so figuratively picked your brain apart and packed them for Ken to lick up next morning.

Point was, creepy eyes and unique hairstyle aside, Mukuro took badass to a very high level.

And he also hated Sawada Tsunayoshi.

Which was why a Mukuro Rokudo voluntarily arriving at the Sawada household with the generic slasher smile on that pretty face of his was the mother cue of all cues for Tsuna to get the fuck out of the country.

That was probably what the poor thing was planning to do too the moment he opened the door to find his psychopathic Mist guardian standing on his front porch. Until Reborn decided that it wouldn't do for the future Vongola boss to be afraid of his own guardians and proceeded to beat the living shit out of his student and place him on the couch with restraints fully utilized.

Gokudera wasn't too pleased. But as he was busy being dangled from the ceiling via ropes and chains and all manners of torture devices, he was in no position to complain.

Yamamoto smiled happily and stupidly.

"S-So, Mukuro." Tsuna tried and failed to ignore the prickly sensation of doom down his spine everytime he was forced to make eye contact with his surrogate guardian. He squirmed, and squirmed some more, and finally Reborn dropped a vase over his head and he all but shrieked "You wanted to talk about something?"

Mukuro pressed a finger against his temple, head shaking wryly. "I still cannot fathom how I actually lost to you, Vongola."

Reborn smirked. "You and everyone else and their dogs to boot." He said, and Gokudera was being as unhappy as fanatical right hand men could get. Such a shame he was being ceiling decoration at the moment. "So, what's your business? I doubt you'd be paying a visit to Tsuna's house for any petty reason."

"Straight to the point, as always, Acrobelano." Mukuro murmured, trademark kufufufu sounding ominously as he shoved his chin on his palm. He studied Tsuna slyly, sending the future Mafia boss into gibbing fear. "Though to be fair, I doubt your usefulness will extend very much in this situation. But I'm sure I came make something of your little friendship with that Viavideche girl."

Tsuna blinked, momentarily pausing his struggling. "Viavideche." He repeated, thoughtful. "Er, that's Filai san's last name, right?"

"Too bad for you, Mukuro. She returned to Italy along with the rest of the Varia. She was very insistent on returning." Reborn, you asshole liar. She was threatening disembowelment and entrails ripping when Dino Cavellone dragged her out of Xanxus' hospital room.

"Well, that's not too much of a concern as to where she is-"

"If you're interested in her in that way, I suggest you prepare yourself."

"Oh? Jealous boyfriend?" Mukuro proposed, amused, despite the notion being exceedingly far away from his real intentions.

"More like the jealous surrogate shark parent." Reborn noted. Seeing the puzzled looks, he explained. "Squalo took care of her for the latter half of her life. He also happens to have bad taste, from what I observed."

That explained a lot of things. Especially the coffee addiction. In fact, Tsuna was privately starting to wonder why she hadn't resorted to alcohol and drugs yet.

"Oh, and then there's the mother hen necrophiliac and her psychopathic boss who probably won't let his makeshift secretary/servant/slave go without doings of massive destruction." Reborn supplied mischeviously. "Almost forgot about them."

Mukuro groaned, face burying in his hand. "Dear god, it's like the Mafia version of Meet the Parents."

Tsuna was curious. "You seem to know a lot about Filai san, Reborn."

"I had a good chat with her before she left." Reborn responded smoothly. "With some persuasion, of course. So don't be too hard on the girl if you ever see her trying to stop nosebleeds with a tampon."

"I'm going to ignore that." Tsuna muttered. Then something dropped on him like a deadweight. "Wait a moment, did you say jealous shark?"

"Yep."

"So, you mean Squalo?"

"And Filai."

Looks were exchanged. Coughs were made. "Never would've expected that."

"That's got to be the most dysfunctional couple I've ever heard of."

"I thought Filai san was asexual."

"Well, granted, she does have that S+M thing going on."

Sympathetic cringes and prayers were made for Superbia Squalo. Then.

"5000 yen he gives up on her after six months." Mukuro called happily, slamming the bill on the coffee table.

"You are a complete bastard." Gokudera snorted, shaking his head at the utter cruelty of the statement. "And a damn cheapskate." Five seconds later and much money shuffling later. "10,000 she rejects him." Alright, he was a bitch too. No questions asked.

Tsuna blinked in disbelief. Were they seriously betting on this? Wasn't that just too inhumane. Then he thought about it. Aw, whaver. She's given him enough misery already. He dug into his pocket. "I think they'll probably get together, at least." He admitted, shoving another 10,000 yen bill onto the table. "But they'll probably break up."

Yamamoto blinked obliviously. Then he laughed. "Really? I think they'll do well together. 15,000 they get married and have kids!"

Dead silence. Tsuna's mouth might've slackened a few inches more than what was normally considered possible. Mukuro snorted. "Yamamoto Takeshi, you're much too optimistic for the Mafia." He muttered, the rest nodding in agreement. That and the idea of having little shark babies running around the world was just too horrifying to imagine.

"Oh, really? Hahaha. Alright." He amended. "15,000 for just getting together then."

More silence. Then. "Still not happening."

"And before we can trail even more off topic." Mukuro interrupted, before more commentary on the poor subjects could be made. As if he wasn't the one who brought the whole damn thing up in the first place. "I'd like to return to my request."

"Which is about?"

"Revenge." Was the simple answer.

The rest slumped. Yeah. Just what else were they expecting from the little bastard?

Two weeks later, Italy

Filai squirmed awkwardly in her plush, oversized chair, shifting every now and then against tightly wound duct tape as she felt the 9th generation Lightning and Cloud guardians steadily boring holes in the back of her head. No, not with glares. With guns. Not the most pleasant sensation in the world, to be perfectly honest.

In front of her, separated by a ridiculously huge desk, sat the Vongola Nono; still a little worn from the life force sapping, understandably enough, but just a bit more cheery than what should be humanly possible (after being trapped in a freaking robot for shit knows how long).

The Varia had been on virtual house arrest ever since their return to Italy; trapped and guarded heavily inside their own HQ. It was heart wrenching, really. And yes, doing that sort of thing to a group of homicidal, but more importantly restless and exceeding pissed assassins doesn't tend to lead to good results. Xanxus especially; nobody could even approach him within a fifty feet radius without getting nailed by a chair, or a piano, or a chunk of the roof.

He especially got pissed when Bel asked him why he had taken to preoccupying himself with reading Shakespeare. The damn prince's medical bills weren't funny at all!

And then a few days ago, the Ninth requested a meeting with Filai.

Alright, maybe not. Requested tended to have the wholly secondary connotation of being optional. From her experiences, being jumped and tranquilized by three 9th generation guardians, unceremoniously blindfolded, shipped off to another part of Italy via FedExpress (which she was certain was an American transport company; at least they had the decency to poke in breathing holes), only to wake up to find herself tied to a chair with guns aimed at her head, in front of the boss of the strongest Mafia family in existence was nothing close to optional.

On the plus side, apparently the Ninth was not at all mad at her for siding with Xanxus during the Cradle Affair.

"So you're saying that you're not mad at me for siding with Xanxus during the Cradle Affair." Filai stated in dry skepticism.

The (senile, she coughed privately; she wasn't bitter at all, as you can see) old man chuckled warmly, ever the kind grandfather like figure that she never really imagined him to be. Given their loose history together, plus the fact that he was the boss of the strongest Mafia family in the world, she had harbored a little more, well, stereotypical image of Vongola Nono. As in, oversized cigar, evil mustache, horribly colored pin suit of sorts, evil looking kitty in hand, etc.

Well, she got the cigar part right (not oversized; still gonna give him cancer though), and the mustache (more bushy and old fashioned than evil), and the pin suit (it actually had a pretty snazzy color scheme), and kitty (it was fluffy and cute).

"Not at all, my dear child." He said. "It's an event long past."

"So I don't have to pay for hijacking your favorite helicopter and crashing it into the side of your mansion, right?"

Pause. His nose crinkled. "That was you?"

Oh, he didn't know that? Shit, she shouldn't have said anything. "Hey, it's not my fault Xanxus felt like blowing you to pieces." Filai said. Privately speaking, she was still sore about that incident. The Ninth was a person. People weren't supposed to survive being nailed by helicopters, god damn it! "It's also not my fault that your pilot was sexist."

"My old pilot wasfemale."

Food for thought, it seemed. She frowned. "Really? I couldn't tell with the helmet on." Then. "Actually, that's even worse. She was a sexist AND a hypocrite. She let her guard down the second she saw me. You can't blame me for being an opportunatist."

Rubbing his forehead tiredly, the Ninth supplied "Are you sure that wasn't because you were nine years old at the time?"

Ah, well, he had a point there. Thus, Filai coughed diplomatically and muttered. "That's irrelevant to the discussion at hand."

"Of course."

"So before we move on, are you sure that you sent someone to take care of my colleagues?"

"My Storm and Mist guardians are on their way to the Varia HQ as we speak—"

Filai cut him off warily. "Lussuria's still bedridden. Can your guardians cook?" If I come back and find that they've been living on TAKE OUT, then I'm really, really, REALLY going to bust something up. Do you know how unhealthy restaurant food is?

"I do believe so." The Ninth's thick brows wrinkled in thought.

That was good. "Well, can you tell them that Bel only takes chocolate cake for dinner on Wednesdays, don't mix any black and red in Levi's food, and makes sure that Squalo's food never has any fish bones in them. Oh, and don't give Lussuria too much meat. He's more of a vegetable kind of person. Oh, and Xanxus likes plenty of wine in his food—"

Half an hour later.

"Do not let Bel into the kitchen when they're baking. In fact, it'd be better if he was on the other side of the mansion, if at all possible. If they're feeling uncomfortable, tell them they can knock him out. Xanxus needs to have at least three bottles of French cognac available on Fridays. Marmon hates apple sauce. He'll go on an illusion destroying spree if he even sees the container label. If they ever want to feed Squalo steak, it has to be done rare. As in, extremely rare. Actually, raw wouldn't be too bad either. Oh, and when they're putting away cooking knives, make sure they have them all. Bel tends to try and steal them when I'm not looking. I'm not sure if he'll do the same for them, but..."

Two hours later. As in, two hours and fifty nine minute (and fifty nine seconds) later.

"And then just set it outside of Xanxus' room. Wrap foil around it, so it won't get cold. He gets pissed when he's fed cold food. Always use expensive ingredients for Marmon, even if they don't have to. Trust me, the little creep can tell the difference. Put plenty of wasabi with Squalo's dishes too. Wasabi and ginger, because if he dies of some scary parasite from raw fish, I'm going to seriously string your guardians up by their throats and gut—"

The Ninth cleared his throat, interrupting her politely. "I assure you, I won't be keeping you for as long as you think. But for now, I'd like to move on with matters."

"Alright."

The Ninth was silent for the longest of moments. Was it her imagination? He suddenly seemed to darken, brows creasing and wrinkles appearing more prominently on the forehead. Closing his eyes, the Vongola boss let out a pained sigh. Finally. "Filia. I have a particularly...hard request for you. If I may?"

"If it's an assassination mission, I'd recommend Squalo or Bel. I'm the last person you'd-"

"No, it's not a mission." He murmured, chin propped gravely on folded hands. "I...realize that you've grown very attached to my son and his various subordinates."

Something like that anyways. Filai decisively shoved all images of psychopathic sharks out of her head.

"Which is why I understand that it would be difficult if you were to..." He hesitated, voice faltering. The he murmured the last few words softly, quietly, as if afraid of being overheard.

Filai would've facepalmed had her hands been free. Really, she would've. She should've known this meeting wasn't going to turn out well.

Two days later, Varia HQ

It wasn't the random explosions from her room that alerted Squalo.

Nor was it the dead animals left in the bathtubs ("I'm not a vegetarian, right?" She pointed out, blankly). Not the odd permanent marker drawings on the walls ("The markers are for drawing" She supplied, blankly), the mysteriously missing mind auras, the notable increase of coffee powder in the pantry and the notable decrease of coffee consumption ("Coffee makes you grow shorter" She offered, blankly).

Not the biology books either, abandoned on the dinner table with milk and juice carelessly soaking the pages ("The textbook had the word 'milk' in it" She provided, blankly. "I think it wanted to drink milk"), the gratuitous accidents in the kitchen that resulted in much takeout dinners recently ("the oven's supposed to burn stuff, right?" she said, blankly, holding the charred remains of Squalo's blowdryer), the miscellaneous articles of furniture super glued to the ceiling (alright, just how the fuck did she manage that anyways?), the laptops overflowing with purposely provoked viruses ("the button said 'click me'" She reasoned, blankly), the laundry which through unknown means caught fire (while being WASHED).

It was when Squalo was watching Filai vacantly messing through his undergarment drawers when he realized that there was the slightest possibility that something was bothering her.

Actually, first things first. "Voi, why the fuck are you looking through my underwear?"

Filai paused, staring strangely at a pair of black boxers clutched in her hand. As if it was the first time she had ever seen a pair of boxers in her life. "Uh." She said, more blankly than awkwardly. "My pajamas burned down with the last batch of laundry."

"YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO USE MY BOXERS AS PAJAMAS!" Squalo screeched in horror. He stormed over, snatching the articles of underclothes from her hands before tossing it back in the cabinet and slamming the drawers shut.

She blinked, and cocked her head sideways bemusedly. "That's...right, huh?" Pause. "I thought they were pants."

"HOW DO THEY EVEN LOOK LIKE PANTS, YOU TRASH?"

"They're short pants." Filai explained, voice flat. "Really, really short pants." She frowned, expression strangely vacant. "I mean, really, really, really short."

Squalo subsided. For a moment, he contemplated the notion that his boxers were indeed short pants. Because she had a point. Then he dismissed said notion and knocked her legs over. "Voi, shithead. What did you talk about with the Ninth?" He demanded, crouching down next to her.

Filai reached up and courteously pulled his hair. Squalo twitched, and retaliated unnaturally. "I can't remember."

"If you don't tell me, I'm going to shove a pole through your rib again." He offered muffledly, teeth clamped contently on her finger.

"I hate you." Filai said. Her head lifted upwards a few degrees, enough for a glare of lukewarm magnitudes. She hadn't slept for a while, Squalo noted. Those shadows couldn't be healthy. "Um, wait. You're not being serious, right?"

Being the shitheaded jerk ass he was, Squalo took the opening with much efficiency and little grace. "Not unless you fess up."

"Why're you biting my finger anyways?"

Blinking, Squalo released his hold. "Payback for the boxers." He reasoned with much ingenuity as Filai stared dumbly at the bleeding bite mark on her hand.

"I thought I was the younger one here."

"Hey," He was defensive. "You used to bite me too when you were a brat."

Filai facepalmed with the wrong hand, and unwittingly smeared blood all over her head. Squalo snerked. "My god. Learning from a ten year old now, are you? I've never felt so proud of you before."

And that was about when Squalo threw a cactus at her. "I'm not going to win this, am I?"

"No." Filai replied, sounding almost smug. "You're not."

Squalo twitched, and whacked her head. "I hate you." Pause. Then. "We're going out. And fuck, I KNOW we're on house arrest." He snapped as Filai began to point out that they were indeed, on house arrest. She closed her mouth dutifully. "We can leave as long as we're not armed, alright?"

She shrugged. "I guess. But where are we—"

"Nowhere." Squalo provided irately, already dragging her back on her feet. Filai stumbled, still-raw injuries trailing pins and pricks up her skin. "Just a walk near the park or something. Hurry the fuck up already. You're too goddam slow."

Within five minutes of stepping outside the Varia HQ, Squalo had successfully destroyed two stores, caused six policemen to quit their jobs on the spot, sent seven others to the hospital, somehow (unintentionally) converted a bunch of drug dealers to Christianity (they were yelling something about the coming of the Apocalypse), and basically dealt millions of euro's worth of destruction to the surrounding blocks around their headquarters. Without a sword.

He also cleared out the local park. Dead bodies didn't count as company, right?

"The coffee wasn't that overpriced." Filai muttered, nevertheless accepting the steaming cup that a very disgruntled Squalo was holding out for her. It was almost winter, not really snowing kind of weather, but it was almost dark, and the frost was definitely thick in the air. She didn't want to sympathize with Xanxus' eight years of icy solitude on a practical scale if she could help it.

"Shut up." The very moody swordsman growled. He flicked hair over his shoulder, shoving his hands in coat pockets. "I'm not emptying my damn wallet for a shit cup of coffee."

"I could've paid for it myself."

Squalo snorted, muttering something under his breath. Curses and profanity, most likely.

Filai sipped her coffee. It didn't taste as good as usual. She glanced at the park; it was one of those very old playgrounds, where the slides were metal and rusted at the corners and the see saws squeaked like they were going to snap in half at any given moment. "You used to take me here sometimes, didn't you?"

"Can't remember."

"I always ended up in the hospital because of you." Filai said thoughtfully, earning a sullen glare from Squalo. "Like the time you forced me down the slide. It was during one of those hot summers, so the metal slide was heated enough to give me third degree burns."

He might've choked on thin air at that. "Voi! T-that was only once, wasn't it?"

"Then there was the time I was on the swing. You pushed me too hard and I ended up falling out of the swing midair. I broke my leg and my arm." Yeah. Falling onto solid concrete ground tended to have that kind of aftereffect.

Feigning much disinterest, Squalo resisted the urge to flinch. Now the memories were coming back. "Uh."

"Something wrong?"

"No." He said, a little too quickly. "You deserved it, so fuck off."

"Actually, I might be inclined to agree with that." She confessed, unsmiling as ever, but there might've been a grin in her voice if voices had expressions at all. "Especially after what I did to your tenth grade science project."

Squalo was much annoyed at the reminder. "I had to retake that class because of your damn penguin raid." He groaned. It didn't help that Dino Cavellone was his lab partner for half a semester. How the fuck did that little shit destroy half the school just by mixing up the chemical formula for salt with fucking iodine?

Must've been the same way Squalo caused a national crisis by putting a speed bump in the middle of a major highway. Nuclear warfare was rendered very obsolete after that.

What? He was bored, alright?

"Well, I didn't like you very much at that time. And I was quite sure you didn't like me either, so there wasn't any love lost between us." Filai said, tossing her empty cup in a nearby trash can. Her fingers were already starting to stiffen from the cold. Damn that Bel. Next time the little bastard decides to steal her gloves and she was going to bring out the rocket launcher. The prince and his shiny teeth will eat it.

The sky was completely dark now, and really, Squalo could've spared the street lights during his little psycho rampage spree. But no, he just had to knock them out along with his poor victims, so now it was pitch black and Filai was having much fun tripping over her own feet while Squalo unwillingly made sure she didn't crash into a bench and break a bone or two.

Damn assassin and his inhumane night vision. As if she didn't have enough reminders that she got the short end of everything.

"Voi," Squalo suddenly spoke up, after minutes of silence. "Why'd you stay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Right before the Cradle Affair." He scowled, unpleasant memories drifting back and forth. "The Ninth gave you a choice to go back. You didn't take it."

Filai grimaced. "Of course I didn't. I had no interest in returning to my family." She mused, eyes lowering as her mind drifted to that distant life that was her own family. "The Viavideche, huh. I suppose I didn't really dislike my life there. But..." She shrugged. "What? You wish I went back?"

"Tch." Squalo snorted, eyes rolling. "Would've saved me half my fucking lifespan if you did. I still can't believe I had to play your damn mom for eight years." His hair probably would've turned white from the horrors of it all if it wasn't white in the first place.

"Theoretically speaking, you took care of me for three years." Filai reminded him, something quite malicious in her eye. "After that, I was the one who took care of you. And the rest of the Varia. And Xanxus, after he was melted. If you really want to call yourself my mom, I'd have to label you as one of those abusive, slave driving parents—"

Child abuse did not BEGIN.

He swiped at her irately. Filai ducked. "You..." No viable comeback came to mind. "You suck." Then he grabbed her left hand and shoved it in his pocket.

Filai blinked, almost startled. His hand was warm. Why was it even his damn hand circulation was better than hers? Life was truly a shitty thing indeed, was what she wanted to say; but she didn't really mind it right now though. Her hand melting in his wasn't a really bad feeling. "What're you doing?"

"Making sure you can still cook." Squalo said, as if she wasn't blatantly right handed. "The 9th's guardians made the shittiest crap when you were gone. Levi and Bel nearly threw up half their organs."

"Really? You should've recorded that."

"I did."

Filai was happy. "Marry me."

On the contrary, Squalo was not happy. "Don't even joke about that anymore." Someday, he was going to accidentally say 'sure' and then that'll lead to the most awkward situation ever expounded on by the woes of shitty fanfiction about maniacs with homicidal tendencies and vague gender distinctions. Seriously.

She shook her head, vaguely amused. Then. "I think I decided on something."

"On what?"

"Nothing you need to know." And before he could elaborate on just how much of an utter bitch she was, Filai said "But I'm glad that you took me out today. It was nostalgic. Not in a bad way, I mean. It's like the ending credits for the last episode of a TV drama or anime. You know, when they show you a bunch of scenes from past episodes while they're playing the opening song instead of the ending. Sort of like a summary. It's a good conclusion."

Squalo frowned uneasily. He stopped walking, and if his fingers might've tightened its grip around hers just barely, it was only with sole intentions of breaking her bones into mint sized splinters. Nothing suspicious about it. "Conclusion to what?"

Her eyes lowered. "What I mean is, I don't think it really matters from now on whether I can cook or not."

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

Filai was wry. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

There was something off in that tone of hers, what he didn't know, and Squalo wasn't sure he liked it. So that was why he blamed the mysterious alien virus that he may or may not have caught at some point in life (He heard somewhere that altruism was contagious. In other words, he was going to strangle that fucking Sawada) when he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and dragged her back home.

A/N: Anyways, remember my previous note saying that I'll do the family arc first? Well, I LIED (shot). Alright, more like I thought about things and I decided to stick the future arc in between the family arc. Why? Because just like how everyone wants to read the future arc, I want to write the future arc. Fail, yes, I know. But I can't help it! Nature impulse towards the longest arc in the whole series is pulling me!

Thanks for reading. Drop a comment or two if you have the time! (shot and gutted)