Title: The Consultant

Rating: M

Summary: The Consultant is well known in the underworld, due to his impressive skills in strategy and analysis. One day, the mafia don of Vongola decided to hire him for training the next don of Vongola; the Vongola Decimo. In exchange of the information of his family and origins, Tsunayoshi accepts the job.

Disclaimer: I do not own KHR! This is merely a fanfiction.

Notes: It's been… quite a while. But that's how things work around here… lol. I'm really sorry for the lack of updates but life's been shitty and confusing. Alas, I reread my fanfic and decided to continue on. Not to pressure me, though, as this will stay in a snail's pace.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed this (literally a year ago…). But to answer some questions given to me by argenteusvipera, the reason why I refer to Reborn as a man is because Tsuna is aware of the Arcobaleno and their conditions. Deep down, even though Reborn is bodily a toddler, he is still a man. That's why! Hopes that makes sense… :)

Another detail is: when I say baby/toddler, imagine Reborn as the size of a toddler. Like a 3yo or so. I don't want to imagine him as a tiny baby. So, please keep that image in mind. Same goes for Lambo. In here, Lambo will have the appearance of a normal 5yo boy. So, they're not exactly like their anime counterpart! But tbh that's up to you to interpret.

Observation: ENG is not my first language.

Chapter III - Frustration and Anger

Contrary to his initial belief, there had been little to no need to stick beside the tenth generation. Most often than not, he would find himself sitting a bit further away—a cup of tea in one hand, the other holding a pair of binoculars—similar to a posh man watching a sport's game from afar. It was somewhat silly, if you really stopped to think about it—considering this was a job given to him by Vongola Nono himself. But it was a comforting pace he's settled in that he wasn't willing to change.

It wasn't as if he was purposedly avoiding the rowdy crowd of teenagers—it was merely a coincidence, really. Nor was he avoiding the sharp glare of the Sun Arcobaleno—believe it or not, he wasn't all that afraid of the man inside a toddler's body. It just so happen that people often forgot that they were being judged if said judge was only watching from afar.

For the first few days—when he was still trying to adapt to the routine and Reborn's lessons—he found that, not surprisingly, most teenagers were distracted by his presence. Ienari was still struggling with the fact he now had a new tutor—yet another pair of eyes to judge his every move. And the rest of the guardians were just confused and offended that he was even there.

Well, all of them besides Lambo and Kyoya. The Bovino boy was just ecstatic about the addition to their family—always bouncing on his feet trying to gather Tsunayoshi's attention to himself. All the while the Hibari teen was thrilled to the idea of fighting against him—something about carnivores and herbivores that, honestly, he didn't care at all.

Nonetheless, all of them were somewhat distracted by his sight. Which then led him to simply back off. Now Tsunayoshi sat at the balcony of his office—which was somewhat hidden by some trees and other structures from the mansion—carefully watching things from afar. Reborn never commented on his decision, but he could tell that the hitman was satisfied with it—ever the perfectionist, it wouldn't be far-fetched to assume that he had known about Tsunayoshi's affect on the tenth generation.

And that was the thing he did most of the time. And something he was currently doing, as well. Tsunayoshi sat at the chair on the balcony, resting his tea set over the small, round table beside him—something he had politely asked to be delivered to him to Vongola's staff. The binoculars was silly, he will admit it, but it did help him from time to time.

A thing he's come to realize was that, with Ienari, most of his reactions and sentiments were shown in his eyes rather than his body-language. And that was something he couldn't keep track of without the binoculars. It came in handy. It was just a nuisance that, sometimes, he would be a victim of Reborn's teasing—which consisted of the toddler smirking darkly at him, glancing directly at the lenses of his binoculars. As if mocking him from afar.

Tsunayoshi is, honestly, not sure on his opinion over the hitman. It's quite a mix feeling of respect and admiration with a touch of annoyance. He was certain that Reborn took full advantage of his small body and childish features to irritate others even further. Alas, at the end, he couldn't really be upset about it. If there's one thing he is sure about is that, regardless of the hitman's assertiveness with his own small body, he probably despised being a toddler. It was clear to see.

Hell, if Tsunayoshi was suddenly turned into a toddler—for the sake of something that he wasn't even truly aware of, like the Arcobaleno—he is sure he would hate himself and his body. He doubts his credibility as a consultant would ever work if he was a toddler. In a way, he respects Reborn for holding the title of the world's greatest hitman while being the smallest of them all. It took someone a lot of balls to even keep on living on like that.

A certain clash of metal caught his attention—pulling him away from his own thoughts. Tsunayoshi spares a glance at the training field where the tenth generation currently resides and finds Ienari and Kyoya going at each other. It's clear that Kyoya has the upper-hand, while the young boss struggles to keep up with the other boy's tonfas.

It's a reoccurring situation, where Ienari tries his best to beat Kyoya, but never quite accomplishing it. Seems as though Ienari is entirely too reliant on his daggers—lacking on the martial arts and close-quarter combat—and, not to mention, completely unsure of himself. It's clear to see that the blonde boy doubts himself—his hands trembling with hesitation, eyes quivering in disappointment, arms flimsily moving towards the raven-haired teen, but never quite reaching him. It's a bit sad.

And, that is not Reborn's fault either. Despite what anyone might say, Tsunayoshi can at least vouch for the hitman's lessons. This was entirely on Ienari's psychological and the expectations thrown on him, unbalancing him.

Despite the talk he had with the boy a week ago, he doubts Ienari found an answer to his words. It would take a few more days before the blonde finally understood what was the difference between being himself and being a mafia don. For now, though, he was forced to watch as the blonde skidded across the sand, raising a cloud of dust as he fell onto the floor. Kyoya stood victorious in front of him, watching with the eyes of a hawk, judging him for being weak. And, as Tsunayoshi finally picks up the binoculars to analyse the boys' expression, he sees Ienari's orange eyes darting from Kyoya's face to Reborn's.

The blonde peering up from the ground, looking hurt and humiliated. Daggers by his side, slowly shifting back into its wooden state, alongside Ienari's Dying Will, dissipating quickly, orange giving its place to the usual brown hue of his eyes. It was somewhat sad to see. Tsunayoshi needn't keep the binoculars, nor his attention on the tenth generation, to know that Ienari got up from the ground, gritting his teeth, grabbing his weapon and leaving the training field.

"Such a shame," he hears the voice behind him. Tsunayoshi spares a quick glance at the old man. Timoteo stood at the balcony's door, staring ahead into the training field.

"He'll get better. He just needs some time," he comments mindlessly, taking a hold of his teacup and sipping the already lukewarm drink. "Don't worry too much. It's bad for your age."

Timoteo gives a hearty chuckle, before sitting on the other chair, right across him. Despite the laughter, Nono's eyes were solemn as they stared right back at him. "I can't not worry about him. It's the future of my famiglia all on his shoulders."

"Maybe that's where the problem lies."

"What?"

"Expectations," he simply says, resting the teacup over the saucer. "It's okay to have expectations over someone, but you're putting too much on him. It's eating him up."

"Pardon my rudeness, but you know nothing of the importance of this succession," Timoteo's lips curled up in a frown, albeit discreet. Tsunayoshi saw it, anyway.

"Don't take me as stupid, Timoteo," his voice rang clear and cold—the air shifting around them as he stares deadly at the old fool who thinks he's talking to a child. "I'm aware how important this is. Especially when you're dying."

Timoteo's eyes widen in shock, "how—"

"—It doesn't take a genius to recognize it, Nono," Tsunayoshi shrugs, taking his teacup again and finally finishing his drink. "A desperate man, whose children ended up dying by each other's hands. No other successor but this one civilian kid. And now, age is consuming you and you have no time left."

"So, you understand my worries," the man sighs, defeated.

"I do," he nods. "But throwing all this weight on Ienari's shoulder won't make him a better Don. In fact, this will only seal Vongola's fate and lead it to trash."

Both men stare at each other—one looking troubled, worried and desperate, while the other looks calm, collected, but accepting either way. Timoteo can't help but to feel the Sky presence on the brunet in front of him—such an enticing call to his own flames; and he feels somewhat smoothened by Tsunayoshi's calm.

Timoteo takes a deep breath, resting his hands over the table, "I don't know what to do," he confesses. "I have only a few years on the line. I'm old, tired. And Decimo has to take over as quick as possible—I'm being rushed by other famiglias. But I can't just let him take over if he isn't prepared."

"I'll take care of it, Timoteo," he reassures. "You're paying me for it. But I'll need you to stop looking at Ienari like he's your one and only saviour. Stop throwing those expectations on him. If you need an escape goat, then take me, instead."

"Tsuna, you're not—I can't ask this of you."

"Why not? I'm capable, I can deal with minor issues Vongola has while training Ienari," he offers. "You can rest assured that your successor will be ready when the time comes."

Timoteo looks at the brunet, somewhat shocked, but inevitably grateful for the offer. Tsunayoshi wouldn't mind taking over some of the paperwork the Ninth had—it was part of his curriculum as The Consultant. He knew how to deal with mafia and he could definitely teach Ienari as well. It would mean less stress over Nono, meaning less stress to the poor boy as well.

"Just trust me on this."

"Thank you."

~x~

Ienari was sulking in one of the many corners in the Vongola estate. It wasn't all that hard to find the blonde boy, however. As soon as Timoteo had agreed with his terms, he had excused himself from the conversation, deciding to chase after the distraught boy. It wasn't as if that was his duty, but he would rather serve as some kind of comforting presence to him rather than be a spartan, cold-hearted tutor—god bless Reborn's soul.

It took him only a minute to stop and listen to his intuition before he found a straight path towards the blonde. Tsunayoshi adjusted the white blouse over his torso, making it tidier and more professional—compared to the overall loose and lazy look he usually took when sitting at the balcony. Footsteps echoing across the hallways, his heels hitting hard at the porcelain—he mindlessly ignored the commotion coming from outside the mansion. The boy's guardians rounding up on Kyoya, angrily reprimanding the raven-haired teen.

It was honestly stupid. That family of his was simply weak. To think that none of them actually bonded with each other—and their only connection that tied them together was slowly crumbling away—was actually insulting. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Hayato snarling like a rabid dog, baring his teeth at Kyoya; mixed emotions swirled in the Storm's eyes, as if upset that the prefect had beaten his boss up, but, at the same time, upset that Ienari had been weak.

Not that he would ever admit it to himself. Actually, scratch that. He doubts anyone would ever admit to themselves how disappointed they are towards the young boss. The only one who was visibly upset was Reborn. Although, the hitman's annoyance was more with himself and the situation around his student—the fact that Ienari felt pressured; the fact that it hindered his student and made him weak. Reborn simply could not deal with it.

Tsunayoshi sighed, taking a turn towards the garden at the back of their mansion. It seemed as though this was Ienari's safe spot. It didn't take long for him to find the secluded are inside the maze of bushes and flowers. Sat at the iron bench, Ienari stared at nothing—hands curled up into a tight grip, holding the edge of his seat as if his life depended on it. One only needed to take a moment to feel the presence of flames to feel the young boss' sky flames simmering underneath. The disappointment, resentment, anger and sadness—all of those emotions making his flames curl and spread quietly at his core.

He is confident that not many people realized it. It's not often that someone had such affinity in sensing other people's flames. It just so happen that Tsunayoshi grew up with it—and he recognized such intensity of flames. It was impossible for two skies to not recognize each other. Even if Ienari wasn't aware of it, he probably recognizes Tsunayoshi's flames—albeit faintly, more hidden and polished. At that moment, Ienari's flames were wild, untamed—definitely not something proper for a mafia don.

"How are you doing?"

Ienari peered up, brown eyes clashing with brown eyes. The boy was evidently angry. His stare burning with hatred, but not directed at Tsunayoshi—that was directed only at himself and no one else, it seemed.

"I don't need my tutor to comfort me," it was the snappy response.

"I'm not here as your tutor," he denies it. "I told you; we don't need to be friends. But you should at least be honest with me," he doesn't sit beside the boy. Instead, he faces him while standing.

"You're so annoying," the blonde mutters.

"What was that?"

"You're so annoying! All of you are!" The boy explodes, finally standing up from his seat. Tsunayoshi towers over the blonde only by a few centimetres. Ienari isn't intimidated by it, however. "I'm tired of it. Always demanding I know things. Even though everyone is aware of how weak I am. I wasn't born for this. I don't know what is like to be part of the mafia. I barely know how to hold a punch! And you all want me to be the boss… In less than a few months! I have no time to learn anything!

"Yet each and every one of you want me to be the best! To be Vongola Decimo!" Ienari's eyes glimmer in the brightest hue of orange; the boy's face so close to his that he could feel the angry, hot breath of his all over his face. Tsunayoshi was surprised that the blonde hadn't hit him already. "Well, I'll tell you what! I don't want it!"

The blonde's scream seemed to echo throughout the whole garden. It was so loud that he could hear the flapping of wings in the distance—the birds being scared of the sudden noise and flying away. Tsunayoshi, however, didn't seem fazed by it. In fact, he stood in his place, allowing the blonde to puff his chest and expand his anger all on him. Even if, technically, none of this was his fault. He let Ienari use him as some sort of release. To push all of his troubles on, without having much of a consequence.

If it were anyone else, perhaps they'd be already lamenting the loss of their tongue—because no one was allowed to scream at him for no reason. Alas, Tsunayoshi wasn't there as The Consultant—much less as a hitman. At the moment, he was presenting himself as a tutor; a friendly face that was there to fix problems and help the famiglia to prosper. And, as tutor, he knew that beating Ienari up wouldn't do him any good.

Besides, that was Reborn's role, anyway. And, in all truthfulness, he wasn't one to copy others. He was quite original, thank you very much.

Thus, he stood his ground, letting the blonde scream his worries and frustrations—letting those unruly sky flames spread and burn through him. Tsunayoshi watched quietly as Ienari's flames burst fiercely over his temple, shining in such determination and anger. It was quite a beautiful thing to see. An unpolished gem, however. Rough at the edges, a bit too snappy and aggressive. Not at all welcoming, nor encompassing. Not a warm and massive sky. But a brooding, depressive night sky, closed off to anyone else but itself.

It was somewhat sad to see. As a fellow sky user, he felt pity for the younger sky. It was absolutely horrid to be a lonely, dark sky. He would know, since he's been one before—in the beginning of his career as a mafiosi; back in the time where he killed to survive and had little to no remorse over the bodies he laid on the floor. Dark times, which had him act recklessly—something that cost him greatly at some point.

But that was him. That had been his past as someone who grew up orphaned; as someone who grew up in the slums of Sicily and was forced to survive on crumbs and puddles on the ground. He grew up to be a remorseful and unsatisfied with life. Tsunayoshi had been a dark sky because of his past. But Ienari was too young, too bright—with a family that cared for him, despite the expectations thrust upon him. It was sad to see that such a bright boy losing himself in midst of expectations and duty.

Tsunayoshi refused to speak. Instead, there was a silence stretching far and wide between them. It was so silent that he could hear the rustle of the bushes, the quiet chirp of birds and the flutter of wings from birds. It was unbearable.

"Say something!" The blonde snapped, putting his hands over the brunet's chest, pushing him backwards.

Tsunayoshi wasn't unbalanced at all. He simply let the blonde push him, without having any results. Ienari grits his teeth as he watches his tutor simply taking a step back and not being affected by his push at all.

"I fucking hate you…" Ienari murmurs. "Why are you looking at me like that? Stop it."

"I'm just doing my job," he explains, letting the other finally settle in his warm, comforting gaze. Tsunayoshi lets his flames run loose, but with purpose. A sky grazing another sky, comforting them, making sure they are ok. Ienari seemed to freeze at the feel of someone else's flames. "You can scream at me all you want. I know how frustrated you are. And I don't mind."

"But—"

"No buts," the brunet interrupts. "You're allowed to have your moment. I'm sure Reborn understands it as well."

At the mention of his other tutor, the boy freezes, somewhat afraid and shocked. "Oh… shit!"

"Don't worry," Tsunayoshi opens a quiet smile. "If anything, I'll deal with him. You should take a moment for yourself."

Ienari stared at him as if he was a complete stranger. Tsunayoshi didn't mind the stare—in fact, he continued to embrace the blonde with his flames, trying his best to comfort him, even though he wasn't touching him.

"C'mon, get onto it," the brunet rushes him. "Go sleep, or rest. Take a day off."

"But, Morelli-san—Reborn will—"

"I'll deal with the midget," he reassures. "Go on, I'll see you later."

"Um…" Ienari's flames were back at normal; his heart and mind suddenly calm and distracted by the joke. Tsunayoshi eye-smiled at the blonde, enjoying the shift of his mood. It was always fun to be silly and joke around. Especially when joking about an extremely talented assassin that could, and would, kill him without a doubt. "Sure thing, Morelli-san."

Tsunayoshi watched as the boy wandered out of the maze of bushes, still a bit confused and overall shocked—but definitely better. It wasn't a solution, by no means, but making the blonde relaxed was essential. At least for now, Ienari could go to his room and take some time off. Of course, the frustration and self-deprecation was still simmering deep down—but that was something he would deal with at a later point.

Taking a deep breath, the brunet takes a step towards the iron bench. He sits on it, throwing most of his weight against it, spreading his legs open, without thinking much of being professional or polite. It didn't bother him that Ienari had screamed at him—he was used to people screaming at him, and those were much scarier and dangerous than a teenager. But it did bring some of his mood and patience down.

At the very least, he was glad that he made some sort of deal with Timoteo. Soon he would be up and running to deal with the famiglia's problems and teaching Ienari how to be a good strategist. If he could show Ienari that being a strategist and a leader wasn't all that hard, then maybe the process of teaching him how to be a boss and combatant wouldn't be too stressful.

Wishful thinking at best. But Tsunayoshi was a bit optimistic in his own abilities as a teacher.

"You can come out of your hiding spot now, mister," he says out loud.

It doesn't take much longer before he hears the pitter patter of small feet stepping onto the grass. It was Reborn himself, leaving out of his hiding spot amongst the bushes. Tsunayoshi had felt him a while back, but had decided to ignore most of him for the sake of calming Ienari down.

The brunet shifts his gaze from the sky towards the toddler, who was now standing in front of him. Reborn stood with a stoic expression, not showing much of what went through his head. As to be expected of the world's greatest hitman. Tsunayoshi did the bare minimum to smile at the assassin, welcoming him to whatever conversation he might want to have. And, judging by the toddler's face, he could tell that Reborn wanted to ask many questions.

"You can't just give a break to my student," it was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

"You mean our student, Reborn," he teases, crossing one leg over the other. "I think I have enough authority to give him a break."

"I'd appreciate if you talked to me, though," the hitman's lips quirk up ever so slightly in a frown—but not exactly meaningful. In all honesty, he doubts that the assassin is really upset about giving Ienari a break. If anything, he is sure that Reborn agrees with his decision. The man was just a hard-ass who refused to praise anyone else.

"I'll think of it next time," he replies.

"I'm not hoping for a next time."

"We both know that that's impossible," the brunet scoffs, turning his face towards the blue sky, staring at the drifting, white clouds. "Speaking of 'next time', you should give me your phone number. Just in case I need to call you."

"Bold," the hitman says under his breath, before approaching the brunet and sitting by his side. The iron bench isn't exactly the most comfortable spot for him to sit—and he doubts the other tutor is comfortable on it, either. Alas, he copies the brunet, sitting on it and just… appreciating the silence and calmness of everything. "Give me your phone, brat."

"Say 'please' and I'll give it to you."

"You didn't say please when you asked for my phone number," Reborn smirks, turning to watch the brunet. Tsunayoshi stares right back at him, somewhat having fun over the situation.

"Fair enough."

Tsunayoshi reaches for his pocket, taking out the flip phone he keeps with him all the time. There were barely any other contacts under it—in fact, there were only two: them being Maria's and Timoteo's. He wasn't one to make friends. And, by the looks of Reborn's expression, he could tell that the hitman thought he was extremely lonely and possibly a loser. Either that, or, he thought that Tsunayoshi was extremely careful with whose contact he saved in his personal phone.

And, in all honesty, it was a mix of both.

"Maria," the hitman starts—his tiny fingers pressing the buttons as he writes his number into the phone. "Your girlfriend?"

"Curious little thing, aren't you?"

"It's part of my job."

"Sure is," the brunet rolls his eyes. "But, no. Not my girlfriend."

Not to say he hasn't been with women before—well, women and men. Tsunayoshi wasn't one to be picky over gender. Still, he wasn't all that interested in relationships. Much less in keeping contact with the people he's fucked—or been fucked by. His line of work as a mafiosi required a lot of extra care and thought. If he simply let himself get loose with random people, he could put himself and Maria in danger.

It was never in his mind to create romantic or sexual ties with anyone.

"Here you go," Reborn didn't comment much on the lack of a significant other—which was to be expected, considering they were both from the same line of work. It wasn't hard to understand each other's motives and preferences. "Call me only if it's important."

"I'll call you every night to wish you 'good night'," he jokes.

"I'll block you if you do."

"Please, Reborn, take a joke, would you?"

"I'm joking, too."

"I'm sure you are," Tsunayoshi took a look of the hitman's face, finding the dark smirk on his lips—clearly indicating that, yes, Reborn would definitely block him. "What about text messages?"

"I'm okay with those," he nods.

"Cool," the brunet gets up from the bench, stretching his limbs. "Well, let Ienari rest for today and tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"I'll take him for my lessons tomorrow," he explains.

"What lessons?"

"Strategy lessons."

"Hm…"

"What?"

"Nothing," the hitman gets off the bench, too. It was still somewhat strange to see such a powerful man being extremely small and looking like a toddler. Alas, the brunet was slowly getting used to that idea—as unfortunate as it was. "I won't bother Baka-Ienari today, nor tomorrow."

"Thanks, that will help a lot," and he means it. "I'll be going now. Don't stay out for too long," he waves at the hitman, a soft smile on his lips. "Don't get lost, little guy!"

Tsunayoshi avoids the bullet whizzling right past his ear—grinning from one ear to the other, almost giggling in euphoria as he skids away from the angry hitman.