A Renaissance Affair

by Exile Wrath

A poor street artist. Two noblemen, one soon to be forced to marry, one free. The three are pulled into the darker side of Renaissance Italy when Hibari Kyoya, who has lost the traditional battle for the right of not marrying for the Nuvola, meets the artist that he discovers will set him free. But Alaude isn't do willing to let his brother have his way with Tsuna so easily. A2718

2. Vongola - Varia

Exile: Hallo! Here's your chapter 2! Sorry for the long wait, but in exchange... you get a 10377 word chapter.

Thank you to Lunakatsuma for being our typist!

KHR belongs to Amano.

Warning: crack pairing detected in this chapter :x

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Second Sketch: Vongola - Varia

"Oi! Little bro! It's time to wake up to the EXTREME!"

Tsuna jolted awake from his sleeping mat in alarm, looking at the window to only get a glimpse of the cloudy sky outside. He was usually able to wake up early on his own (a side effect of farm life) but he always got messed up when the sun wasn't shining. Luckily though, his older brother was always loud enough to substitute for a crowing rooster.

"Little bro, do you hear me to the EXTREME!? Hana's already up and made an EXTREME breakfast for us!"

Tsuna staggered up, getting out of his room after slipping on some indoor shoes. Tumbling down the staircase (staircases seemed to hold a grudge against him), he yelped, "Itai!"

From the kitchen, Hana heard him and sighed. "He's so clumsy and feminine, sometimes I doubt his masculinity," she muttered as Tsuna staggered into the main room. The artist gave her a wide-eyed look. "It's nothing; nothing at all."

The three sat down at the table, Ryohei saying a quick prayer of thanks before he began eating. It was Hana who broke the silence first. "So, what do you plan on doing this week, Tsuna? Just going to wander around?"

Tsuna shook his head promptly, swallowing. "I'm probably going to find some places to draw. Maybe I can draw some of the more famous landmarks and sell them as souvenirs to passerbys."

"You don't intend to get any commissions from any noble or rich houses?" Tsuna thought about it for a moment, and once again shook his head. "Why?"

He paused. "Uhh. . . I think I should start small and become acquainted with people first."

Ryohei nodded approvingly. "That's an EXTREMELY good idea! Maybe you should take some of Hana's EXTREMELY good lunch with you!" He was whacked on the head by his wife at this line.

"Don't be so loud, Ryohei," she chided, turning to Tsuna. "You should try going to-"

"I already know where I'm headed for," Tsuna cut in. "I'm going to be near Cathedral San Maria del Fiore today. I've always wanted to see Brunelleschi's Dome." Here he also thought about the piece of paper in his trouser pocket, something that he really couldn't let anyone see.

"I was just going to suggest that," Hana muttered, "The head priest there is the travelling boxer who taught Ryohei, remember him?"

The brunet laughed nervously. "Yeah. I was planning on seeing how he was doing." He glanced at the door. "By the way, why does your door have a lock and key instead of a standard latch?" A lock and key door was considered a privilege, something a commoner wasn't supposed to have.

"Master Alaude insisted that all servants procure a lock and key door as to lower the crime rate of robbery and theft more. Plus, we got a discount when we bought them under his name, so why not?" she explained. Here, Ryohei took one last bite of his breakfast, stood up with an "Extreme!" thanks, and Hana gathered up the dishes and took them to the cleaning basin to rinse and wipe them off later.

"We'll be off now," Hana announced. "Do me a favor and don't lock the door. Understood?"

"Understood?" he said with a curious tone. The door slammed shut with a conversation about a 'Kangaryuu' audible from where he sat. When their voices faded from hearing, Tsuna heaved a sigh of relief and proceeded to unfold a piece of parchment. It was a letter from one of his childhood friends and a relative, one Cousin Giotto. Tsuna had constantly looked up to Cousin Giotto, who was also a famous painter these days. One of the other reasons why Tsuna had come to Florence was that he had gotten a letter from Giotto. 'Hello, Tsunayoshi,' it read.

'Hello, Tsunayoshi. I hope this letter finds you well. I do realize that the last time we saw each other was at Iemitsu's funeral- for that I apologize. How are you, and how is your family? Pray give my greetings to Nana and Kyoko and Ryohei. I hope that all of you are well.

But enough with all the formalities. I am writing to you in the dead of night, under candlelight. Please do not let anyone see this letter, Tsuna. The reasons will be explained shortly. You have heard of the Vongola, no?

I am the head of the Vongola, and I go under the name Giotto Vongola now. If you do not know of what I am talking about, well, Vongola is a vigilante group I have formed with a couple of friends. When I was still relatively unknown as an artist, I often took late walks in Venice. I later moved to Palermo. But what I observed was the same; the desecration of the commoners' rights by the fraudulent rich and the corrupted government. I managed to become acquainted with a man named- (Here, the letter was a mess of scribbles and cross-outs, as if Giotto and someone else had fought for the quill.) -who goes by G. He agrees with my sentiments, and we have decided that the best way to protect commoners and the public good from the whims of the rich of the upper class would be to create a vigilante group. Actually, it was my friend Cozarto who suggested it as a solution, but I digress from the real reason for this letter.

Vongola now is relatively infamous in the Venice area; that's where we began our work. But I am now writing to you, my dear cousin, to ask if you would like to join us. Not necessarily as a fighter, but more like an advisor. If you are willing to join us, come to Florence. G, Cozarto, and I, as well as the rest of the main Vongola, are transferring over to Florence for safety. In Venice, we ticked off one too many influential people, it seems. But they still haven't connected me to my painting life.

Anyway, at the Cathedral San Maria del Fiore, there is a priest by the name of Knuckle. He is one of my friends. Go to him, and tell him who you are. He will make contact with me so we can meet up. My offer is open for four months. If you do not wish to take the position, simply do not come. But even if you wish to decline, I would like to see my younger cousin again, even for just a simple chat. Florence is a lovely place, after all.

–Giotto'

After rereading it once again, Tsuna stood up from the table, going back up the rickety staircase to his room in order to fetch his smaller drawing pad and his charcoal box. He was going to San Maria del Fiore, like he told Hana and Ryohei, but not just for the sights and art. It wasn't really an ulterior motive.

Tsuna was just going to meet his cousin while he was at it, and maybe get some art tips and most definitely agree to help this 'Vongola'. He departed the house, mindful not to lock the door like Hana said. (He could have sworn something woke up as he left the house, if the thumping was any indication, but he was too scared to double-check.)

And thus he set of for the Cathedral, items and letter in hand. After wandering into an alley three times and making a U-turn twice, Tsuna was forced to ask for directions. Most people simply pointed at the great Dome, but it didn't help that the streets twisted and turned, often making him go in the direction opposite the Dome. With a sigh, Tsuna found himself at the same street alley for the fourth time. Tossing his hands up in the air, he noted the time from the nine tolls of the bells, looking with despair. Turning on his heel, Tsuna had the misfortune of colliding with someone. "Oof!" he cried, falling backwards. "I'm sorry!"

His apology was met by an androgynous voice's reply of, "Ot. Strangers should look where they're going." A hand was held out, helping Tsuna up.

"I'm sorry- I'm sort of lost right now!" Tsuna cried. Seeing the other's curious look, he explained, "I'm new to Florence. I'm trying to go to San Maria del Fiore, but I keep getting lost!"

The person regarded him with blank eyes that held a glimmer of interest. He was a boy, judging from the lack of, um, chest area, and the trousers with the plain, formally white shirt they wore. The eyes and hair were a shocking shade of sea-foam green, and the boy was barefooted. He must be a street orphan, Tsuna realized sadly. Poverty was no laughing matter.

"My name is Flan. Yours?" the boy asked suddenly, and the brunet started.

"Oh! Uh, I'm Tsunayoshi Sawada. Tsuna for short." After a pause, "Why 'Flan'?"

"Flan was the first dessert I ever ate," the boy explained nonchalantly. Hesitantly, "Do you want help getting to the Cathedral? I could guide you there. I know these streets well." Seeing Tsuna's obvious indecision, 'Flan' hastily added, "I don't mean any harm. But you look lost, and I know that Sniver's gang has shifted to hereabouts." Tsuna raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Sniver's a guy that runs a gang of pickpockets."

"Thank you, Flan," Tsunayoshi gave the street child a soft smile, "I'll pay you when we get there, if you can guide me."

Flan's emotionless expression brightened up at the mention of payment. With his usual monotone voice, "Then follow me this way, please," he set off, the artist following close behind. Tsuna caught up quickly, matching Flan's paced walk next to him. They moved in relative silence, the city sounds permeating the air and the talk of nearby people, chattering so incessantly. However, Tsuna's curiosity seemed to have gotten the better of his tongue.

"Um, Flan. Do you not have any parents?" he asked delicately, still walking.

Flan shrugged. "I don't know them. Grew up on the streets, never really entered any gangs. I had a buddy, but somebody picked him up one day and I lived on." Evidently, Flan wasn't one to hold grudges against his parents for abandoning him or dying. Changing the subject, "Why are you going to the Cathedral at this time of day? There's no Mass at this time."

Tsuna smiled lightly. "I'm visiting one of the priests there to say hello. Also, I'm an artist. I was hoping to sell charcoal sketches of the Cathedral for some money." Then, as an afterthought, "You know, may I sketch you, Flan?"

Flan, if he had been drinking something, would have done a spit-take, but instead, he settled for pointing a finger at himself and continuing on. "Me? Why?" he questioned.

Tsuna laughed nervously. "Well, truth to be told, I don't have much money," he confessed, "Also, your looks are unique, and that's why I'd much rather sketch you."

Flan blinked several times and shrugged. "I'm flattered that you think of me that way. I wouldn't mind if you pay me with a sketch," he said in a bland tone. "By the way, we're almost there," he announced. The duo turned another corner, and in their path lay the grand doors of San Maria del Fiore. "Here we are."

"Thank you very much, Flan!" Tsuna thanked gratefully.

Flan shrugged. "If you're looking for a priest, the priests' quarters are in that building." Flan pointed. "Next to the church. Who are you looking for?"

As he spoke, they drew nearer to the priests' quarters. Tsuna thought for a moment before stepping up to the door, Flan waiting by the gates. Knocking on the door, he gulped as it was opened by a rather matronly-looking woman. "Who are you looking for, child?" she asked gently. "This is a priests' house of rest."

Finding his voice, "I'm looking for Father Knuckle, madam. He's a family friend."

The woman regarded him for a moment before stepping backwards and calling for Father Knuckle. Presently, a man dressed in priest's garb appeared, clutching a Rosary and Bible. His black eyes landed on Tsuna, whose eardrums were nearly blown out by the shout of joy from the priest. "You're Tsunayoshi, right!? Giotto has been hoping to hear from you to the ULTIMATE!" he exclaimed. The housekeeper departed, leaving them, probably to save her ears. "So why are you here!? And you look like your cousin to the ULTIMATE!"

Tsuna couldn't help but grimace at the volume. "I was hoping to meet him today," he answered.

Knuckle nodded excitedly. "That's good! I'll be sure to let him know to the ULTIMATE!" With this, the boxer-turned-priest shook Tsuna's hand, leaving a piece of paper there. "Have a good day to the ULTIMATE!" And he was off.

With a grin, Tsuna walked from the house to Flan, who had been waiting by the gate. "Done here?" the green-haired boy asked. He nodded. "What next? You going to set-up-shop or something now?"

They both walked to a corner, far enough from the Holy Cathedral to not violate the Bible, and close enough to catch people going to see it. He propped up his easel and drawing pad, took out a charcoal box, Flan watching with mild interest. He gestured to Flan to sit on the stone wall as Tsuna unfolded a hinged stool from his pack as well and sat down to begin sketching Flan. Using a heavy charcoal, he decided to draw the eyes first. Some said eyes created a window to the soul, but Flan's eyes reflected whoever was looking, not letting anyone in. Flan was an interesting person, he surmised.

When he finished the eyes and moved on to outline the face, a sudden joyous shout was heard with a terrified yelp. Tsuna's head jolted up to see a black-haired stranger holding Flan to him, smiling brightly as he rested his chin on Flan's shoulder. On the other hand, Flan's expression was as blank as usual, but now there was a flicker of. . . irritation in his expression. "Dinner! Why are you out here wandering the streets instead of being with your family? Did Daemon finally kick you out? Come live with me, then!"

This string of statements caused a nerve on Flan's forehead to twitch, and Tsuna wasn't surprised when Flan grabbed the stranger's arms and kicked backwards, flipping the handsome stranger into the cobblestones. There was a definite killing intent around the boy now. "I apologize for this imbecile, Tsu-na-san," Flan scowled, glaring at the stranger with obvious wishes to gut the man.

Tsuna laughed nervously, gesturing to Flan to sit down again. The boy took a moment to drag the stranger out of the sidewalk so he wouldn't be stepped on. Resuming his previous lines, Tsuna asked, "Who is that guy?"

Flan scowled and kicked the man. "Alato Stallone Chiavarone, and a bigger womanizing flirt you would be hard pressed to find," Flan replied blandly.

The artist raised an eyebrow. ". . .but aren't you a boy?" he choked. The other nodded. "Then. . . why? And how do you know him?"

"Likes messing with me," was the terse explanation, "and he and I are acquaintances."

Tsuna now moved to drawing the boy's hands, which were surprising clean and white for a street orphan. There was an indignant, muffled complaint from the formerly unconscious man as he sat up rubbing his head, looking at Flan unhappily, then shot Tsuna a curious look.

"Dinner, why are you calling me only an acquaintance?" he complained, attempting to hug Flan again, but only to be punched in the shoulder. Miffed, Stallone turned his eye on Tsuna. "Now who is this?"

Flan rolled his eyes and threw a piece of rock at him. "That's Tsuna. Don't bug him; he's drawing right now."

Tsuna nodded politely at the person who was most obviously a nobleman if the fine clothes and handsome looks were any indicator. But, if Flan is a street child, how come he seems to know this man so well? Tsuna wondered, beginning to shade his drawing of Flan as he blocked out their odd conversation. And why 'Dinner'?

"Chiavarone, shut up and quit calling me 'Dinner'; it's disturbing."

"Because you are my Dinner!" he replied, making Flan facepalm. "And why are you out here on the streets instead of with Daemelo-"

He was rudely shut up by Flan clapping his hands over his mouth. However, Flan yelped and moved his hands. "Uhn- you licked me!" he stated, causing Tsuna to look up and watch the amusing scene. Stallone was grinning, and Flan looking rather. . . perturbed at the very idea. Stallone licked his lips, causing some nearby women to faint at the sight. "Why you-"

"I knew you tasted good, Frannie," the nobleman teased and dodging the blade of a scythe that had quite literally appeared out of nowhere. The people who had been crowding around to see Tsuna draw scattered away in shock as the artist started sketching the scene with quick, rapid strokes. The mysterious Flan holding an odd scythe against a Chiavarone nobleman that was defending with a bullwhip. It seemed like an even match and made a fairly good drawing.

The screams grew louder, however, when a blond-haired person stepped in, hands armed with silver throwing knives and a tiara atop his head. "Ushishishi~ Hello, froggie. Why are you dressed like that near the stupid stallion?" he asked.

If possible, Flan's face paled more as he backed up until he was right next to Tsuna, who took the opportunity to tap the street-child-that-he-doubted-was-a-street-child's shoulder, making him start. A roll of paper traded hands as Tsuna smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Flan," he said to 'Flan', who was better known to the public as 'Fran Spade' (not that Tsuna knew that), blinked and nodded, vanishing into the crowd.

Now, the funny thing was that even with the disappearance of the green-haired boy, the blond and Stallone had continued dueling, bullwhip against throwing knives. "Ushishishi~ The froggie left, and the prince will cut up the stallion now!"

"Dinner only left because your disgusting royal face appeared," Stallone sneered as he dodged several knives. Tsuna's eyes widened and he leapt from his stool to knock a bystander from the path of more than a few thrown knives, narrowly dodging them by mere centimeters. Tsuna rolled off the person and went back to save his drawing supplies.

When he managed to escape the fray once again, he worriedly glanced over to the bystander, who was now sitting up and rubbing his silver-haired head. "Are you okay, sir?"

The man looked at him with confusion. "Why did you save me?" he asked with bewilderment.

Tsuna looked at him like it was obvious. "Life is precious, and you would have died. Stranger or not, I'd do the same for anyone."

The man blinked, and Tsuna could have sworn sparkles appeared in the unknown man's eyes, who suddenly knelt in front of Tsuna. "Tenth! In return for saving my life, I will follow you forever!" he declared. "I, Hayato Gokudera, will do anything you wish for, Tenth!" Then, he quickly added, "What's your name, Tenth?"

Tsuna's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "I'm- umm- Tsunayoshi Sawada. . .you know, you don't have to go that far. . . and why are you calling me 'Tenth'!? This is the first time I've ever seen you!"

"Because you saved me from ten knives and you are the tenth person to ever save me but the first that didn't do it for money!" he exclaimed.

Tsuna eyed him carefully, totally unsure of what was going on. Scratching the back of his head, the artist pointed at the still-fighting men. "Umm, why are those two guys fighting? And who are they? Who are you?" he questioned uncertainly.

"I am Hayato Gokudera of the Tempesta Family, Tenth! The freaky knife guy is my cousin, Belphegor. He's an insane guy that believes he's a prince. The other one is Alato Stallone Chiavarone, the eldest heir of the Chiavarone Family," he clarified. "And the reason they were fighting was because Fran Spade, the adopted child of Daemon Spade of the Nebbia Family, doesn't take either of them seriously, so they fight each other for him. Rivals, you see."

Tsuna's jaw dropped. "W-wait! You're a noble!? Then you shouldn't be hanging around me; I'm just a-"

A fearsome glare silenced him. "Tenth is Tenth. Commoner or noble," Gokudera insisted staunchly. That made Tsuna give up on convincing the noble that he didn't need to stay around Tsuna.

"Okay then," he sighed, making Gokudera's eyes sparkle. "Do as you will. But I'd rather you be my friend than a follower."

Gokudera looked at him in disbelief, then nodded, a true smile spreading across his face, something that he hadn't done for weeks. Maybe I found the right person this time, he thought gladly.

Suddenly, the church's bells rang eleven times, indicating the time. The Tenth's eyes widened, and he dropped a piece of paper that had been in his trouser pocket. "Mr. Gokudera, do you know the way to Ristorante del Sequenza?" he asked worriedly. "Is it nearby here? I need to meet someone there."

Gokudera raised an eyebrow curiously, stepping back and examining Tsuna. His jaw dropped. "You're Tsunayoshi!? Signore Giotto's younger cousin!?"

The brunet's eyes widened visibly. "You know big brother Giotto?" he inquired lightly. So Giotto is really popular, huh, he mused.

Gokudera saluted, bowing. "I was on my way there when you saved me, Tenth! I can lead you there if you'd like, Tenth!" Jabbing an elbow at the still fighting Stallone and Belphegor, "Those two will eventually snap out of it, Tenth. Pay them no mind!"

Tsuna nodded weakly, picking up his items and eyeing the fighters one last time. "Please lead the way, Signore Gokudera."

The man faltered. "Tenth, you don't need to put Signore in front of my name. Call me Hayato," he requested.

The brunet thought a moment. "Umm, okay, Hayato," he said awkwardly.

The Tempesta brightened up visibly, grabbing Tsuna's knapsack to carry it for him. Setting off, he wore a huge grin as he guided the Tenth. He couldn't wait to see his idiot brother's expression when he lost the bet that the Tenth would be scared of him! Ha!

What was on Tsuna's mind right now, though, was, Flan! He's not the Fran Spade that Hayato mentioned! What in the world!? Off in Nuvola mansion, Fran sneezed in the middle of Chiavarone-proofing his room.

Giotto drummed his fingers at the table he had reserved at the Ristorante del Sequenza, anxious for the bells to toll twelve of the clock, which was when his dear cousin was supposed to meet up with him. On his right was his right-hand man, a fellow that went by G and would kill anyone that dared reveal his full name, even if said person was Giotto. To the blond's left was a man dressed in an extremely out-of-place garb of a white hakama, and a tall, white, cone-shaped hat. With Giotto's striking appearance of a blond, spiky mane and eyes sky blue, and G's detailed flame tattoo and light-red hair, the three had a devastating effect on all females in the vicinity, who were crowding around the restaurant's windows to gaze at the exceptionally beautiful men. The restaurant suddenly received a sharp influx of customers, mostly the trio's new fangirls. The good thing was that none of them were brave enough to do anything more than stare longingly.

G ran his hand through his hair uneasily. The stares were so unnerving, Dios! "Giotto, where is your cousin?" he snarled. "Are you sure he's coming today?"

Giotto placed his hand placating on G's arm. "G, calm yourself. Tsunayoshi always keeps his word, and Knuckle described him as one that fits the appearance of my cousin perfectly," he stated calmly. G snorted, but stopped complaining, nonetheless.

"Maa, Giotto, G, I think I could've sworn I saw your dobblegengers outside the shop just now!" Asari Ugetsu commented. The bell to the Ristorante del Sequenza's door jingled, signaling the entry of new people, and G had to whack Giotto's head hard to stop him from causing a scene from pouncing on the newcomer. His similarity to Giotto was unmistakable.

Next to him was G's younger brother. Upon sight of each other, they scowled. "Asari, the word is 'doppelganger', not 'dobblegenger', and my little brother is far from me," G corrected.

Taking advantage of G's momentary distraction, Giotto leapt from the table, tackling Tsuna to the ground and startling all of the customers. "Tsunayoshi, my dear cousin, it's so nice to see you again!" he cried happily. Tsuna was unable to formulate a proper response, the flying glomp having knocked his breath out.

Suddenly, Gokudera pulled Giotto off, snapping, "Can't you see the Tenth can't breathe?" he snapped.

The blond stood up, looking sheepishly at the brunet that was trying to recover his breath. G raised an eyebrow at his brother's attitude. Looking up, Tsuna finally managed to greet his cousin properly. "Hello, Giotto! How are you?"

The effect was instantaneous as Giotto lost control again and did a full-body hug on Tsuna, dragging him to the table that he had reserved. "This guy is G, and the other guy is Asari. Cozart should be coming soon, and he's bringing his stepbrother. How are you? When did you get here? Where are you staying? If you don't have anywhere permanent yet, then you can move in with me, you know!"

Tsuna laughed nervously as G once again pummeled Giotto's head with an unforgiving fist. "Don't talk like that, you idiot; you sound like a pedophile!" he snapped.

A new person's voice entered the conversation. "Giotto's being a pedophile to whom?" Tsuna turned around to see a fidgety red-head with brownish streaks in his hair with a similarly-looking teen cringing behind. Both had red eyes with a strange compass design in their irises. "Giotto, didn't you swear you wouldn't be a creeper when you saw your cousin?" the taller chided.

"I'm not being a creeper or a pedophile, G, Cozart!" the blond protested with a scandalized look. He moved his chair to sit next to Tsuna. "I haven't seen my beloved Tsuna for five years; I'm just being enthusiastic!"

"Seriously; you're his cousin. You're so "enthusiastic" that it's borderlining on creepy incest," G snarled.

Gokudera butted in crossly. "Can you guys stop arguing so we can order something to eat!?" As if on cue, Tsuna's stomach grumbled, making all eyes turn to him. "See!? The Tenth is hungry! What would you like to eat, Tenth?" At the last line, Gokudera's mood took a whiplash, going from grumpy to adoring- no, practically worshipful. Glancing at his right-hand man and best friend, Giotto had to refrain from laughing at the disturbed look on G's face. Hayato had taken quite a liking to Tsunayoshi, it seemed.

Several waiters came to take their orders. Tsuna observed how Giotto and everyone seemed to place orders with practiced ease. Seeing Tsuna's slightly lost expression, Giotto ordered a dish of Tuscan-style stew for him. The food came rather quickly, as if the kitchens had been waiting for them to calm down, and the group dined in silence as the bells tolled twelve of the clock.

Finally, Tsuna set his utensils down, and Giotto looked at him expectantly. "So, cousin, why have you decided to call on me?" the blond inquired in a business-like voice.

Tsuna's eyes flickered around the room warily. When he had assured himself that no one was listening, he quietly replied, "I want to take up your offer to be your. . . advisor." Everyone's eyes widened. "I just think that what you say is true. Some of the non-Elemental ruling families are corrupt. . . while Kyoko and I were journeying here, we just barely escaped the massacre in Rolozola. It was. . . horrible. Outright civil war, and the Pulci Family had mercenaries killing people." Here he let out a shuddering sigh. "Apparently, it was so bad that the Nebbia Family had to send their own family members to deal with the Pulci."

"The Elemental Families are good, it's the minor ones that are a pain," G grunted suddenly. "Anyway, are you sure?"

Tsuna nodded resolutely. "How have you been, cousin?" he asked lightly. "In regards to painting and such?"

Giotto and Asari exchanged uncertain glances. Then the blond coughed nervously. "I, umm, I. . . I haven't been painting for nearly a year now." Hurriedly, he added, "I haven't had enough time."

There was an awkward silence. Cozart coughed abruptly. "Change of subject, anyone?" They nodded. "Tsuna, this is Enma Shimon, my stepbrother. He's nineteen." Enma looked at Tsuna shyly, nodding. "I hope you two get along now!"

Suddenly, the door to the Ristorante del Sequenza burst open, and several women hardly contained their delighted squeals as another drool-worthy man strode over to join the group. Tsuna recognized him right away as Alato, who halted at the table, looking rather miffed. "Sorry for being late, Giotto," he apologized. "Something came-"

Everyone in the Vongola table gave a collective sigh. "You bastard. We all know that the only reason you're late is because you ran into your precious 'Dinner'," G scolded, holding his face in his hands. "You're twenty-eight and the kid is twenty for heaven's sake!" Stallone seemed to wilt. Then G delivered the finishing blow. "What's more, that's a boy, and the age count makes you a pedophile!" The man slumped into an empty chair lifelessly.

Giotto winced. "About that, Stallone. . . G's right. Just because you see that person and chase him doesn't mean you should have delayed in coming here. Besides, if you insist on bugging the poor boy, I may not be able to recruit any Nebbia when the time comes. And if you also decide to continue and make a fuss in Florence, I could probably say goodbye to any hopes of getting the Nuvola on our side." He let out a long breath. "Please, Alato." Changing gears, "Now, this is my cousin, Tsuna."

Stallone was too much of a corpse to reply. Gokudera rolled his eyes. "Che. That guy will never grow up. He's been fighting with that stupid cousin of ours for. . . what? A near half-hour now?" Giotto shot him a surprised look. "Tenth pushed me out of the way of their fight!" he expounded. All eyes turned to Alato disappointedly. You could almost hear their skepticism at his stupidity, but sadly, they had already gotten used to it.

"So, Tsunayoshi, how is thy art faring?" Giotto inquired. "Improved any? Can I see some of your drawings?"

The younger artist grinned from ear to ear. "I've taken an interest in Dad's old technique of charcoal sketching. I still touch the paintbrush, of course." In realization, he rummaged around his knapsack for his drawing pad. "I have one of my sketch pads here. Look!"

The pad of paper traded hands, falling open on one of Tsuna's oldest sketches, his farm in Tuscany. There was the cottage with the door open and the yellow tivvy that had often stopped the mice lazing on the fence. Giotto turned the page, glimpsing a group sketch of Kyoko and Nana sitting together on the only bed in the house. Another flip of the page and it was their farm's mare browsing under a tree. Giotto turned the page more rapidly. The village square. Kyoko and a cat. Nana cooking dinner. The collection of hands in different positions. Practice drawing eyes. Another scene from the village.

"Slow down. Turn back the page real fast?" Cozart requested, leaning over Giotto's chair to see the pictures too.

He complied and raised an eyebrow at the drawing of a pair of twins, male and female, who were looking at each other and laughing. The page was titled 'Rilliane and Allen'. Cozart whistled, recognizing the two for who they were but staying silent.

Giotto gently raised an eyebrow and moved on. Then he came to a page with a very familiar face. It was Daemon Spade and some courtiers speaking with the village headsman. "You've seen Daemon Spade?" Giotto inquired. "What would you attest to his character?"

G shot him a sharp look as Tsuna pondered a moment. "Giotto, I already told you what I think about that deceptive, watermelon-headed piece of a-" Giotto raised a hand to cut him off, his expression radiating waves of disapproval. "Fine," G grunted.

Giotto's eyes slid to Tsuna. "Uhh. . . he's a fair person, but if you manage to irk him. . . no handicaps are given. He's one of the bored nobles, but I hear his boredom extents to merely pulling elaborate tricks on the people. . ." Then he quickly added, "Why do you ask, cousin?"

Giotto looked up from the flipping pages and Tsuna saw a glint of approval. "For Vongola's sake, my advisor," Giotto responded lightly, closing the sketchbook and handed it back to Tsuna. "At this rate, we may end up being competitors," he joked, much to everyone's horror.

Time sprinted by on Mercury's shoes. The bell tolled the hour as a single, mournful cling rang across Florence. Giotto frowned disappointedly. "It is time for us to depart, cousin." The whole group stood up and handshakes and hugs were passed around. "Farewell, and I'll drop by Ryohei's and pay a visit sometime!"

Gokudera looked like a kicked puppy as he bowed in front of a surprised Tsuna. "Tenth! I would walk with you to your house, but I have to go with my foolish brother, so forgive me, Tenth!" G scowled and whacked Gokudera's with the back of his hand, eliciting a string of curses from the silver-haired one.

"Who are you falling foolish, you little brat?" cue brotherly struggle.

With one last wave, Tsuna walked out of the restaurant, knapsack on his shoulder. However, he hadn't taken ten steps before a redhead tumbled out of the restaurant after him. "Ouch. . ." Enma rubbed his back in pain. Not being one to not help people out, Tsuna kindly held a hand out to help Enma up. Brushing off his clothes, Enma nodded to him sheepishly. "Uh. . . i-is it okay if I tag along with you for a little bit?" he asked quietly.

The brunet blinked in curosity, wanting to know why. "Sure, why not?" he offered, continuing to walk. After a moment, Enma followed as well. "Why do you want to come with me, though?"

Enma scratched his head. "My brother said we should get to know each other," he confessed truthfully.

Before either could say a work, however, a familiar boy with green hair dashed to them, running right up to Tsuna. Despite the emotionless appearance, the painter could detect a trace of apprehension from Flan as he greeted Tsuna, "Ara? The painter from before?"

"Hello again, Flan!"

Enma's eyes grew as wide as saucers as he looked back in forth between the two, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Gesturing to him, "This is Enma Shimon, my cousin's friend's stepbrother. Enma, this is-" Here, Enma would have commented that he knew the other, if not for 'Flan's' sudden, eerie smile (the three point six degree upturn of Fran's lips counted as a smile) and the faint outline of a flame amplifying scythe barely visible behind him. "-Flan. He's a street orphan." Technically, this was true, Enma thought to himself. "And he helped guide me." Here, the Shimon nearly choked on his own saliva. "Are you okay?" Tsuna asked worriedly.

Enma cleared his throat and held out a hand to Flan, praying that he wouldn't get his hand cut off and replaced with an illusion. "Nice to meet you, Flan," he said weakly. Please let me live. Please let me live. Please let me live I want to liiiiiiiiive!

Flan simply eyed him and shook the hand. "Hallo, Mr. Shimon." Enma flinched as extra pressure was added as Flan squeezed his hand vindictively. "Nice to meet you too." Flan let go of the poor, abused hand like a dead fish.

"You look like you're running from someone. Are you okay, Flan?" The boy visibly grimaced. "Eh? Who's chasing you?"

Ka-ching!

Tsuna's question was answered by three silver knives embedding themselves in the cobblestones at Flan's feet. The boy's eyes grew wide as he grabbed Tsuna's and Enma's arms, dragging them away as an arrogant voice called out, "Ciao, Froggy! The Varia are here!" Around the corner appeared a blond man with his bangs covering half his face and another man with colorful and extravagant hair sticking up, a green patch of hair hanging down, and odd, black lenses covering his eyes. "Froggy~!"

Flan continued dragging Tsuna and Enma away from them, and they eventually got on their feet and began fleeing as well. "Che. Fake prince can't catch the top magician," he said loudly over his shoulder.

The blond and colorful man ran after them, but weren't easily gaining ground, as the crowd was now thickening. Panic in his eyes, Enma shouted, "Why are the Varia after you, Flan!? Aren't you just a street orphan!?"

Flan gave him a look. "I'm the great top magician that made the fake prince and flashy peacock mad."

"That doesn't explain anything!" the redhead protested fearfully. Rounding a building, Enma's eyes grew wide as saucers again.

Oblivious, Tsuna muttered, "Those people are very unique. You think I can get a quick sketch of them?"

"Ushishishi~ Froggy, you're mine now~" the blond declared as he and the other colorful man came up behind him.

Around Flan's neck clamped a large hand. "Boss's caught you, Froggy! Now hurry up and come with us!"

Flan stared blankly at Xanxus's scarred face. "Trash. Quit running away, your fate is sealed."

The only response the Varia leader got was Flan insolently sticking his tongue and kneeing his stomach, forcing Xanxus to unhand him. "Artist, Red; run!"

Tsuna grabbed the shorter man and ran off with Enma. "Flan! Who are these people!?" Tsuna cried. "Why are they chasing you!? Did you anger them or something!?"

"They're the Varia, Vongola's independent assassination squad," Enma clarified between breaths. "The guy with scars is called Xanxus, the one with the ridiculously long, silver hair is Squalo, of the Pioggia, I think, the one with knives is Belphegor Tempesta, and the one with weird hair is Lussuria Sol, and by the way, they look ready to kill!" Enma tacked on the last bit sarcastically but wilted under Flan's dead stare.

"It's because they want me to join their gang, but I don't want to be three feet near that fake prince," Flan explained. "Ot. We should avoid buildings; long-haired commander-" Suddenly, Squalo dropped directly in front of them. "-likes dropping from buildings."

"..."

A sword was pointed at Tsuna's nose, who rapidly backed up. "HIIEEE! I didn't do anything!" he exclaimed, stepping in front of Enma and Flan. "I won't let you hurt my friends!"

The Pioggia noble glared down past Tsuna at Flan. "VOOOOIIIIIIIIII! YOU DAMN FROG! JOIN US OR ELSE THE SPINELESS PIECE OF TUNA WILL TASTE THE EDGE OF MY SWORD!"

Tsuna's eyes widened as he ducked the sword swing and spun on his hands, swinging his leg out to knock Squalo's feet from under him. Taken by surprise, the swordsman fell back, only barely recovering in time to dodge two fingers that had aimed for his diaphragm. Before the fight gave Squalo a chance to retaliate, the pole of scythe whacked to the back of his neck, causing the Varia Officer to collapse to the ground as stars figuratively appeared around his head.

"Che. No one can hurt the artist on my watch. Bye bye, Rapunzel~" And with that, Squalo was batted away with the scythe once more, and the trio made their escape. Tsuna raised an eyebrow at Flan. "What?"

"How in the world does that scythe appear out of thin air?" he inquired.

Flan shrugged, his green eyes looking ahead. "Trade secret. Can't really explain it." Suddenly, someone in the crowd screamed as several weapons flew at Flan's back, but he simply stood still as three knives, a spike, a barbed bullet, and a dagger embedded themselves in his back. Before either of the two could start panicking, Flan went, "Che. Oops. I clicked my tongue at the fake prince's and the gay lord's aiming. With that, he began pulling out the objects stuck in his back, making 'chk' sounds as he snapped the knives in half. And he was still walking and not being a bloody mess on the ground.

Enma was starting to wonder whether the Nebbia were human and if Fran was- gasp!- sane. Tsuna was beginning to really doubt Flan's backstory and wishing that he had gotten to sketch the scythe.

"Fran Spade Nebbia. If you don't stop running around the streets and causing havoc this instant, I will have Daemon confiscate your scythe and I will dock your paycheck," a whispery, androgynous voice echoed throughout the city, ringing in the streets and causing everyone to freeze.

Everyone, that is, except Fran. Grabbing Tsuna and Enma by the collars, the green-haired boy hauled them into an alley, ignoring the redhead's protests. A wall appeared at the end of the alley, blocking the sight of the street. "I'm Flan. Flan, not that Fran Spade those insane nuts were after," he muttered rebelliously.

The whispering voice repeated the warning a second time. Enma just looked at 'Flan' and the wall incredulously. There was a sound of yelling from the Varia in the streets, but the group simply passed by the wall and Tsuna and Enma sighed with relief.

"How long will we have to hide in here?" Tsuna wondered aloud. Flan shrugged uncaringly. "Ehhhhh!? Then what should we do!?"

Flan paused a moment before voicing, "I want to hear about painter-san's life."

Tsuna cocked his head in confusion. "Uh. . . sure? What do you want to know?"

"How did you get into drawing? What's your family like?" Flan asked rapidly.

Tsuna leaned back on the brick wall of the cafe next to the alleyway. "I have a brother and a sister. My mum's rather ill these days and my father has been with the Lord for many years already. He was a good father to us and my mother was severely depressed with his death. My brother lives here in Florence and he works at the Nuvola Purple Estate as- apparently- a repairman. He lives with his wife, Hana, and she's one of the head maids there. My sister Kyoko is back on the farm, taking care of my mom."

"My condolences," Enma and Flan chorused. There was an awkward moment, but Tsuna waved it off.

"It's okay. He lived in a way that he would be remembered," the brunet said in recollection. Seeing their confused expressions, he added, "My father was Iemitsu Sawada." The widening of the Shimon's eyes was almost comical. Flan wore a partially surprised face. "He's the one who taught me the disciplines of the arts until he was struck ill and died. He taught me ever since he was seven."

Flan looked speculative. "I've heard of him as the man who invented the thing called charcoal sketching you do, but you are from the countryside, no? You mean to say such an acclaimed artist was poor?"

The nineteen-year-old nodded. "My father was a generous man, and the problem is that for many of his pieces he did for the Elemental Families, he would have them hold on to the money and pay him later. However, he was sadly forgetful. I hoped to collect his deeds from those families so I can pay for a way to cure my mother, but. . ." he trailed off.

"It'll be hard to convince them of your identity, now," Flan finished for him.

Tsuna gestured at the orphan. "Exactly. So first I want to prove it to them through my art so that when I try to get the money, they'll be more likely to believe me. Other than my father, my cousin Giotto, taught me some more art techniques, like how to sculpt and use that new thing called pastel."

Now it was Flan's turn to have his eyes nearly pop out. "So you're related to and have been taught by two famous artists, Painter-san?" he restated. When Tsuna nodded, the boy glanced him over with wonderment. "You have heard of the great Cielo family, right?"

He was given an odd look from the other two. "That's a strange subject to move to," Enma remarked.

Mind racing with the implications of what Flan had asked, "Come to think of it, there are those rumors about Giotto-san. . ."

"Cielo?" Tsuna replied quizzically. "I only know about the Elemental Families, really."

The boy snorted. "Technically, the Cielo are an Elemental Family. "'For it is the great sky, open and encompassing, that allows the weathers to exist.' You know that line, right? It was used by the historian Talbot in describing the Cielo."

"Wow, Flan," Tsuna cut in observantly. "You're pretty smart. Is it usual for street orphans to quote Talbot?"

He shrugged. "I doubt it. I'm a loner. But my former streetmate knew how to read and taught me by using the book Tempo Famiglia by Talbot," he explained smoothly. "Anyway, the Cielo are mostly a myth used-"

"I've heard of them!" Enma interjected. "They were the only ones capable of keeping a hold on the other Elemental Families and were pretty much the undeclared monarchs of the entire Italian Peninsula! But apparently when Spain, France, Portugal, and Austria attempted to begin invading Italy, the Cielo brokered a deal with them and disappeared in exchange for peace because the other powers saw them as the only key to unifying Italy, and unification of all the city-states is a threat."

"So. . . the Cielo were basically the family that had the greatest potential of bringing Italy together, but was assumed as a threat and the members killed?" Tsuna guessed with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Flan and Enma shook their heads. "No, the family dispersed and most of them were taken as political prisoners by the invading countries. Others went into hiding," Enma corrected. "But some say that some of the Cielo went underground. There are tales of the great artistry of the Cielo, and the funny thing is, your father, Iemitsu Sawada, and your cousin Giotto. . . there are whispers that they have - had in your father's case - Cielo blood, which means that if your relations and your artistry are made public, people may begin assuming you to be one with Cielo blood. That's what Flan-san was trying to get at, right?"

"Oh!" he recalled suddenly. "The Chiavarone. Have you heard of Dino Chiavarone and- uh- you met Alato earlier, hahaha. . ." Enma couldn't help but notice at how Flan barely flinched at the name. "Well, you see, the Chiavarone are an offshoot of the Cielo."

"Really!?"

"Yeah, they have Sky blood. It's a public thing, except they don't have. . . they aren't exactly the best of leaders. They have good intentions, but. . . not to mention your name is similar to those of higher birth," Flan muttered.

"He does have a point," Enma said softly. "Your name is similar to those deemed of high birth."

"Tsunayoshi Sawada. . . it is, I believe, that someone of the Cielo had that name," Flan thought aloud.

Tsuna tilted his head to the side innocently. "Enma, Flan, what are you two implying, though?" he asked.

When the orphan opened his mouth to reply, several gunshots went off nearby, and a bullet whizzed by, barely missing Enma's head. "It's an illusion!" a harsh voice yelled.

The green-haired boy leapt to his feet, ushering the other two to the other side of the alley, where there was a narrow dead end. Flan clicked his tongue and grabbed a brick, pulling himself up. "Hurry and get up here," he ordered. "They won't get us on the roofs." As he said this, he continued climbing.

Tsuna started to get up before Enma, having experience climbing trees and rocks as a child, whereas the noble did not. Flan scrambled up the building nimbly with practiced ease, reaching the roof first and dropped the rope down to Tsuna. The artist crawled up and they dropped the end all the way down to Enma, who was struggling still.

"Shimon. Grab the rope and we'll pull you up," Flan hissed. "It's a ship rope. It's strong enough to hold you." The redhead held on to the rope for dear life, and Tsuna helped pull up the other. As they had been doing this, Flan sent out Mist Flames to strengthen the illusionary wall to hold off the Varia for precious moments.

When the Shimon was finally on the roof, the trio slumped against another building. They were in a little alcove in the wall and were surrounded with the walls of the buildings they had just clambered up. "To our right is a bookshop. The left is a studio," Flan explained with a wave of his hand. "We are currently on top of a part of the studio. It's like an alley on the rooftop. It's my hidey-hole. So, Tsuna-"

Ch-brm!

A large, great puff appeared in the place of Flan's illusionary wall. All three of them started, looking at that direction. When the smoke faded, it revealed a mysterious person with a black cloak and a hood covering half their face in front of the Varia. "VOOIIIII! GET OUT, YOU DAMN ALLEY RAT!" a man with long hair roared furiously.

"Dear Mary Mother of God!" Enma cried, falling backwards, finger pointing at the person who Tsuna recognized as one of the Nebbia, one that he had actually done a rare painting of once. "It's Mammon of the Nebbia! Flan, why did you bring us along-"

"Hey, I was just going to ask Painter-san to see if I could check out more of his sketches. It really isn't fair," Flan muttered.

"Fran Spade. Get down here before I am forced to drag you down," Mammon threatened, face turned to their hiding spot.

The green-haired boy facepalmed. "My name is Flan, and you have the wrong person," his voice rang out in answer.

The illusionist paused. If Fran was insisting that his name was 'Flan',that meant he was busy doing something undercover. Closing her eyes under her hood, she used her mind's eye to see the situation up there. Her younger nephew was with a teen she identified as a Shimon, and another teen she vaguely recalled as the boy who had painted her when she went to talk to some village head with some financial troubles. What she didn't get was whoFran was undercover for out of these two.

Oh well. Returning to her body, Mammon declared, "Well, you look an awful lot like the frog, so get back here." Flan took off running and illusionary hands grabbed the Shimon and the artist, depositing them in front of the Varia. "For aiding and defending that child, what should happen to you two?" she asked softly, making the Shimon boy shiver and the brunet clutch his belongings. She didn't really care much about the two, but they had Fran's interest, and as thus were a source of potential amusement.

"Please don't hurt Flan!" the poor one exclaimed, eyes darting around nervously.

Hm, how selfless, she thought. "I'm not going to hurt the kid you two were with. I'm just going to do an identity check on him. Mu, it's not like I'm like the rest of the barbarians in the Varia," Mammon replied. "But still, I heard that one of you managed to strike Squalo. He's Pioggia, by the way." The brunet paled. Striking one of the people of the Elemental Families without good reason was not a crime, per say, but it was a highly unintelligent thing to do. "What to do, what to do." Turning around, "Mu, why aren'tyou lot chasing Fran?" Apparently, they had sent out all the lower-level mugs out to catch her nephew. Fools, she thought.

"Ushishishi~ the prince will wait for the frog to come to him," Belphegor said cheekily.

I pity you, Fran.

"VOOOOIIIIII! Let me have a go at the puny-looking kid; he's got potential!" Squalo roared.

Uhhh...?

"Muah! I've been running after that boy for so long that I'm almost sweaty!" Lussuria cried. "Ladies shouldn't sweat so much like this!"

Lussuria, you're just creepy with that mindset, okay?

"Hmph. I'm not going to bother chasing down that trash."

Xanxus, you don't call a Nebbia 'trash', Mammon thought as she tossed an illusionary trash bin at her boss. He shot it through with a growl. The life of the Varia was oh-so predictable.

"I go where Bossu goes," Levi declared.

Of course, Levi. That's what you always say.

Mammon rolled her eyes under her hood. "Well, since a whole bunch of idiots will be staying here for a while. . ." She waved a hand, causing chairs to appear from the mist that always followed her, "You have to draw a group sketch of the Varia." The assassins, which had been relaxed and lazy, suddenly froze. Before any of them could run off, she bound them to the chairs with her favorite tentacle illusions.

"Mammon! Why are you doing this!? VOOOOIIII! I thought we were going to punish those trash!" Squalo roared.

The Nebbia gave him a polite smile that made him shut up immediately. "You see, Squalo, Vongola wants to see a group sketch of us, and it appears that he is an artist. If he draws us well enough to give to Vongola, I'll let him go. If not, then you guys can beat him up to your heart's content." Conjuring another chair, Mammon took a seat. "So, kiddo, I remember you as a shrimp that was taught by your father. Don't disappoint me." As if noticing Enma for the first time, "Shimon kid, you can stay by the alleyway entrance and shoo off the women. If a single one gets through, I'll choke you with my tentacles." The redhead went pale and hurried off to stand guard.

Tsuna took a deep breath and set up his easel, taking out his charcoals and drawing pad. "This will be as quick as possible. Please stay still, all of you." He gave the Varia a long glance and he got to work, sketching the guidelines first.

"Nufufufu~ Hello, Fran. Where were you today, and why are you wearing your street clothes?" Daemon greeted as Fran stumbled into his father's room, looking as emotionless as always.

Matter-of-factly, "I was doing Skylark-san a favor, then the Varia somehow got wind of me and I ended up running through half of Florence. But I met an amusing person today because of it."

"Hm?" Daemon hummed questioningly. "An interesting person, you say?"

"He's very interesting. He's a rare person to come by." As he had been conversing with his father, Fran had changed from his thin, worn, street clothes, donning a shirt, coat, pants, and boots of someone befitting his station. Popping on his outfit, the teen asked, "Have you seen Skylark-san?"

"I believe he's been in his private training room ever since he got into that spat with Mukuro at lunch," Daemon said idly as he continued reading his book.

"Thanks, Dad," Fran muttered as he displaced his last illusion of street clothes.

Daemon looked up from his book again upon hearing an ungodly screech from the barely-ever-opened window that his adopted son had just exited. The noble didn't bother closing it, knowing that Fran would be using it as an entrance again soon. "Really. I need to get around to talking to Fran about using windows as exits. . ." Yawning, Daemon decided it would be a nice time to get a new book from the Nuvola Library, so he stood up, grabbed his scythe just in case he ran into Alaude and got into a fight, and left the guest room...

...through the window. Like father, like son.

Tsuna's charcoal flew over the paper as if he was in a trance. He had to draw all the interesting details of these people. Xanxus's scars and hair ornament, the scratches on Squalo's sword and that incredibly long hair of his, the tiara Bel wore, Levi A. Than's eccentric electric-looking-hair, Lussuria's own odd hairstyle, and Mammon's face-markings. In the background were the bricks of the alley, with Enma stationed to head off the females. The artist was pretty sure that if he could draw interesting people like this everyday, he would improve exponentially.

Under her hood, Mammon eyed the boy with interest. He had been drawing for nearly forty-five minutes already, and the bells had tolled three only a little while ago. Of course, the real Varia had gone off to do things after being seated for fifteen minutes. Mammon herself was actually standing behind Tsuna, making an illusion of the Varia still sitting in front of him.

Dear Kyoko and Maman,

How are you two and how is the farm going? It'll be winter soon. I hope you're doing better, Maman. I've gotten to draw a lot of interesting people lately, and I'll have drawn more by the time you guys have gotten this letter.

The reason why I'm writing so soon even though it's technically only been my second day here is because today, I got a commission! I drew an interesting group of people called the Varia! They're apparently a bunch of assassins, but they had really cool looks! Anyway, one of them paid me to draw them, and I got a good amount of money for it.

Enclosed, I have a canvas sketch, but inside the sketch, if you rip open the back, there will be the gold coins that I earned today. Is the doctor still around? I hope Shamal doesn't leave and start chasing after women again. I'm paying him for a reason, after all.

Anyway, I have to cut this letter short now. Hana and Ryohei are almost coming home, and I have to get there before they do. Oh! Ryohei nii and Hana are doing well as ever. They're a funny sort of couple. They sometimes bicker- well, Hana scolds Ryohei-nii a lot- but it's all friendly and funny.

I also ran into the Nuvola! They're really- they have really neat looks, too! Really neat! I got to draw- apparently, the three sons were the Nuvola. . . huh, funny; I've been having run-ins with the Elemental Families lately.

Anyway, ciao for now, and please get better soon, Maman!

Sincerely,

Tsunayoshi, Your Son and Brother

P.S. Since I won't be there for Christ's Mass, well, Merry Christmas!

Mammon looked at the drawing that she held in her hands with a keen eye. It was amazing, really, the sheer potential that the boy held. He had drawn the Varia with such impeccable detail that really, it looked like he had somehow simply captured their image and put it on paper. "Mu, this child. . . Fran has proved interesting to him. Hm. . . they won't be boring staying in Florence after all. . ."

"Mammon-san!" a certain annoying Nuvola called out to her. Her good mood disappeared instantly as she saw Fong come around the corner, his hands in his sleeves as usual. She hated him. Oh, how she loathed the man. "Mammon-san! Oh, there you are! Would you possibly wish to come out for a quick snack? Are you hungry? We're going to be eating soon, after all."

The illusionist glowered at him from under her hood. "Mu, I'm fine; I don't need to eat food like that."

"Mammon-san, you should eat, you know. It's bad for your health."

She was about to give him a retort when, disregarding her wishes, Fong picked her up with her legs on one arm and his other arm supporting her back. "Mu, l-l-l-le-le-let go of me!" she squawked.

He laughed. "Mammon-san, it's not healthy for your body if you don't eat. I know you are an illusionist, and your attacks concentrate on your mind, but really, you should eat." Ignoring her protests completely, Fong carried her all the way to the kitchen. The drawing that she had been holding was left drifting down to the floor in the hallway.

---

OMAKE!

TItle: Nuvola and Nebbia - Dinnertime

"Mu, I don't want to eat," Mammon complained the moment she entered.

Daemon and Mukuro frowned as they stood at the dinner table.

"Nufufufu..."

"Kufufufu..."

"Father."

"Mukuro-nii."

"What!?"

"Eat."

"That. . . abominable fruit salad in the middle of the table!?" they both spluttered at the same time.

All five Nuvola looked at the pineapple, watermelon, and apple salad that was in the center of the table. Daemon's eyebrow twitched as he tried to refrain from smashing the intricate piece of crystal.

"Mu, don't rack up damage costs," Mammon hissed.

A few minutes later, all the skylarks stepped in, with Fong, Lal, and I-Pin. "Herbivores."

"Kufufu~ I'm so glad that you're happy to see me, birdie," Mukuro taunted, hiding his anger at the affronting salad on the table.

"Nufufu~ Alaude? Still having fun fiddling with your poor excuse of a weapon? Handcuffs, really?"

On that cue, both skylarks' eyebrows twitched.

And that was how, when Riccio finally entered the dining room, he found the entire room a mess of gouges with Mammon and most of his kids in one corner- Mammon taking bets, something he highly disapproved of- and with Kyoya, Alaude, Mukuro, and Daemon fighting in the center of the room.

All of a sudden, Fong said something to Mammon, and then tentacles attacked. He sighed. Make that Fran, Chrome, Lal, and I-Pin standing on the side of the room with Fong, Mammon, Hibari, Alaude, Daemon, and Mukuro fighting.

He sighed again."Kids these days."

---

Exile:... you know, I'll just null the 200 word = 1 review policy. I write WAAAAAAY too much for this fic, and would go over it anyways |D

But still, please review! They're incredibly encouraging.

Also, I edited some of last chapter to make it more geographically correct.