"Reborn-san?" Gokudera asked as he gently laid down his boss on his bed before ensuring that he was really asleep. "Mist flames are blocking his memories aren't they?"

The hitman shook his head, looking down at his student in contemplation. Yamamoto had taken it upon himself to put a blanket over Tsuna, all the while keeping a sharp ear on the conversation happening around him. Reborn found himself slightly impressed at the younger boy's

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that Sky flames were keeping his memories locked." The hitman muttered, disliking the feeling of confusion that settled itself in his gut. "Dame-Tsuna has a strong affinity to Sky flames, which would easily break through Mist flames. His Hyper Intuition should have been able to grasp the key words needed to unlock whatever is blocking his memories, but it's failing for some reason." Normally Reborn wouldn't present a problem to someone that he hadn't already figured out, but in the end he decided that this was a problem for them to solve as a family.

In the meantime, he had to go pick up a birthday present.

Tsuna traced his fingers over the strange present he had received from Reborn a few days ago. Despite knowing that the tiny hitman was his tutor, he felt a little unnerved that he was able to pick something out that suited him so well.

Deciding that he had stayed in the warehouse long enough, Tsuna lifted himself off the ground before zipping up his birthday jacket. Tightening his gloves on his fingers, the tiny brunet opened the giant door to his sacred place before shutting and locking it with practiced hands.

Ever since his birthday, his friends had been acting strange around him. They would skirt around him like he was some sort of wild animal, but at the same time they never wanted him to leave their sight. Frankly, it was getting a little old, so he stole away in the middle of the night to get some time alone, not even bothering to tell anyone where he was going.

A sudden prick of cold hit his cheek, causing him to jump. Looking up, Tsuna noted the small white flakes that were making their home on his heated skin. He closed his eyes, enjoying the quiet of the night, knowing that what little snow that was falling here would probably melt in the morning. How poetic.

Readjusting his jacket, Tsuna pulled up the hood to protect himself from the melting snow. The strange triangle formation of the hood coming to rest on the bridge of his nose. After properly bundling himself, he set off toward home, eager to have a cup of hot cocoa to ward off the cold.

He ran his tongue over cracking lips, unable to keep them wet for long. It was a bad habit, one that only served to ensure that his lips ended up even more dry by the end of the day, but he continued, more important things in the forefront of his mind. A crack signified just how old his bones were getting. He sighed, leaning back to reread the strange report he'd received.

"Sir?" A familiar voice asked. It was clipped and professional, but Timoteo could hear the worry in his old friend's voice. "You've been looking at that report for the last half-hour." A little startled, the Ninth boss looked at the grandfather clock in his office. He had been looking at the report a little too long, hadn't he?

He sighed, signing off at the bottom of the page before tossing it into a manilla folder. "Coyote, this is the fifth time he's had an attempted assassination." Grabbing another folder from the pile of paperwork, Timoteo flipped through the reports of even more property damage in Namimori. "And all five of these assassins have escaped unharmed." It was a miracle in more ways then one. All five, against Xanxus, had lived.

There was a pause before the Storm guardian answered, "You are worried about something else besides this, aren't you?" Nono looked over at his old friend before nodding. It was rare for Coyote to drop formalities, but it seemed that he had deemed it necessary for this conversation.

Stroking his beard, the Ninth tried to pinpoint what was bothering him, but it was just outside of his reach. Instead, he decided to list all the little things that bothered him about these 'assassins'. "I don't think there is more than one of them. I don't think they are actually trying to kill Xanxus. And I can't understand their motivation." He dropped the report on the desk, signing at the bottom to allow the appropriate payments to be made. "And I can't understand why this isn't making Xanxus as angry as it should be. Something it happening to my son and I can't understand why."

Coyote stepped forward, grabbing the report that was giving his boss a headache and flipped through it. There were a few minutes of silence before the Storm Guardian placed it back where it should be. "He doesn't want our help, Nono." A sigh escaped him, "So we won't give it. Let us pray that Tsunayoshi will come out of this alive."

Timoteo tapped his fingers on the next report in contemplation before giving his order, "Find the assassin. I don't care what it takes, find him before the Ring Battles." Coyote tilted his head in acknowledgement. A knock was heard at the door, causing both occupants to raise their heads at the noise. "Enter." Nono commanded, his dire mood not completely broken.

"Sir? Ninth? The kitchen staff just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. We brought you this." A kitchen boy approached the desk with a small trolley with cake, candies, and tea.

Deciding to not take his mood out of the kitchen staff that had stayed for the Holidays, the Vongola leader smiled before nodding, giving his consent to let the boy set up the Christmas snack. Taking a bite of the cake in front of him, Nono smiled as the sweet coconut and cream flavor that filled his mouth. It complimented the black and cream tea perfectly.

Looking up at the boy who was just about to leave, the Ninth spoke up. "You're new here, correct?" The boy nodded, his piercing of a fish dangling as he did so. "Did you make this cake? It's delicious."

The boy grinned sideways, giving a little bow. "Don't worry about it. Italian cream is my specialty."

Nono's ears perked up from the accent, "Ah, you're from New York? What's your name?"

Smirking scarred lips gave him his answer, with a voice laced in the recognized accent, "Desmond, sir."

Me: Happy Holidays! Sorry I'm a bit late on the update, but the end-of-year scramble kinda put everything on hold. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the update!