Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he knew that one way or another it would end up this way. It didn't help that his intuition was going haywire. And he did not even know what to save himself from. All he knew, before the man in front of him- a respected, loyal subordinate, that has served the famiglia for almost four decades (one under him) pointed his gun in his direction ,his face displaying nothing but indifference at seeing his boss die, was that his family was in danger.

The formal clad man standing at the street corner scowled, his keen emerald eyes surveying the throngs of people, most tourists, going in and out of the Piazza del Duomo.

It was a wonderful, sunny day of mid-spring, the warm weather alleviating the cold breeze that blew at times, reminding everyone that summer was not there yet. People of all ages and nationalities were stopping to admire the wonderful architecture and sheer size of the monstrous dome looming in front of them. While an architectural legend, the dome was not the only attraction populating the large piazza. Rather, the centers of attention were many. In front of the Cathedral, the Baptistry of San Giovanni delighted tourists with its form and sculpted doors. The scowling man stood in the shadow of yet another well known attraction- Giotto's bell tower. Which, ironically, shared the same name with the first boss of the Vongola famiglia that he was a part of. Though the man was not sure whether his boss's ancestor did actually build it, he doubted it very much. His chest swelled with pride at the thought, having had the honor of meeting the man in person- more like his ghost- and he figured they could not be the same people. The man remembered fleetingly his meeting with the first Storm guardian as well, and all the shit he had to go through to convince the bastard he was a very good choice for a right hand man.

Granted, G had good arguments, that some became true somewhere down the line, he had been adamant in not making the same mistakes his future self had made and become the perfect right hand man.

Gokudera exhaled in irritation, glancing around the busy piazza again. He had been waiting for the Tenth for a while now ,and while not necessarily unpunctual, Tsuna was always busy and his mind sometimes could not keep up with the speed things were going around him. Though in the last years he had gotten used to that, and could mostly manage on his own. But, throughout his ten year career as a mafia boss, Sawada Tsunayoshi has never been this late.

His right hand man had been waiting for almost an hour and he had not spotted a chocolate brown head anywhere in the crowd. It did not help that the number of tourists was growing with the minute, but Gokudera supposed that was obviously not the problem. Even without his suit jacket, his blood red shirt was unmistakable, so his boss should not have any problems with finding him. They had agreed to meet here, Tsuna arguing that it was ok for him to meet Maurizio alone ,and that the man could be trusted. Usually, Gokudera would never even think of letting his boss go alone anywhere, but the man could sometimes be even more stubborn than him.

Which is why now, the silver haired bomber was standing in the shadow of the great tower of Giotto, scanning the crowd minutely, his search becoming more and more desperate with each passing second.

When the clock stroke 3 o'clock in the afternoon, marking that his boss was now an exact hour late to the meeting point, Gokudera took out his phone from the pocket of his pants, speed dialing his most important contact number. He had kept himself from calling up until now, reasoning that maybe they took longer to talk, or Maurizio had invited Tsuna to coffee, or maybe Tsuna himself wandered off in a Cafe. He could not imagine the man had got lost, since he knew Florence like the palm of his hand.

Urging the person on the other end to pick up, he silently cursed the tower behind him for its continuous bell ringing that made it harder for him to hear.

Deciding to move away to escape the sound, he made to step onto the rock paved street, only to freeze as he felt a presence materialize behind him. Sliding his phone away from his ear, catching only the busy message tone on the device, he slowly turned to face the darker shadows behind him.

What he saw made his blood turn cold. Two Vindice guards stood unmoved, their chains and tattered clothes floating in the cold breeze. Their dead eyes were fixated on him, and he fixed them right back, with a cold stare of his own.

He was not afraid of them. Probably long ago, but nowadays they became somewhere between allies and irritating guys that arrested criminals before the Vongola had a chance to interrogate them. And even more absurd was that they offered no visits or interrogation hours, making Gokudera's job one thousand times harder.

But in this moment, the bomber realized he was scared. If they were here, then something must have happened. He only prayed that it was nothing about his boss and that they only wanted help for catching a bad criminal. The chances were almost close to zero, and the man's mind was already on overload, going through all the bad possibilities and swiftly cataloging them.

The people in the piazza did not seem to realize the monstrosities were there, and Gokudera concluded that they probably used a Mist based illusion.

One of the zombies moved, prompting the Storm guardian to tense, his guard up and ready for any attack. But the Vindice was not there to fight, rather- as all harbinger of bad news- Zombie number one lifted a hand, its claws and decomposed fingers clasping what could only be a piece of paper. And it was offered to him.

The bomber gulped, before extending a steady hand to catch the other end of the paper, immediately bringing it to his side but not making any move to read it.

"This was the only thing we have found." The deep, frigid voice said without an ounce of emotion. Before Gokudera could demand an explanation, Zombie number two approached, producing a photograph from beneath his bandages.

"Do you know the man in the photo?"

Emerald eyes widened as he found Maurizio lying on the floor in a pool of blood. A black revolver was near his head, and a couple of meters from him, another pool of blood could be spotted. Without thinking much, Gokudera nodded observing their reactions. Or lack thereof.

Zombie number two looked like he wanted to sigh, but one could never be sure.

"That man is the killer." He pointed at Maurizio, shocking the mafioso."We have the body. It contains secrets."

Before Gokudera could ask what the hell had happened, and what they were talking about, black smoke rose from their feet, enveloping the two Vindice. As they disappeared, Zombie number one said.

"Remeber: cerca trova. Bring them down."

And with that, the smoke cleared, leaving a confused Storm guardian to gaze at the architecture of Giotto's tower bell.

With unsteady feet, Gokudera had managed to return to the hotel he and his boss had checked in that morning. His shaking limbs were very hard to control at this point, and it only got worse. Absentmindedly, the man realized he may be having a panic attack, but he could care less at the moment.

With the slip of paper still clutched in his right hand, he unlocked the apartment door after a couple of tries and entered the luxurious living room. Without as much as a glance around him, he threw himself on the couch, gazing at the ceiling and trying to calm down. Somehow, he knew what was written in there, and he was afraid to open it. If he read it, then the crushing reality will hit him full force and everything that he had worked so hard for up until now would crumble to pieces and disappear. Along with everyone important to him, it seems.

But he had to read it. No matter what happened, he was the right hand man. He had to have his head on his shoulders and deal with the situation, feelings aside. This was his responsibility and he was damned if he was not going to keep it.

The dirty piece of paper in his hand looked like it had been written for a while and stored in a pocket most probably. The way it was folded suggested that Maurizio, if he had been the one to write it, had either kept it with him for a very long period or just wrote the message in a hurry on a random paper he had found.

Opening it, his keen eyes scanned the contents and the longer he gazed at it, Gokudera felt the earth snatched from right under his feet. He hesitated to know whether his earlier assumptions about the writing have been right. Both possibilities were too horrifying to think about. In front of him, the message was written in dark red marker, in a calligraphy that was not familiar to the man.

VONGOLA DECIMO IS DEAD

AND SO WILL THE VONGOLA FALL

Yamamoto Takeshi whistled as he walked down the paved street. Behind him, the monumental form of the Colosseum loomed above the crowds of tourists and local citizens, the sun illuminating its eroded stone structure.

Ahead of him, the Trajan Column appeared to his right, while Altare della Patria stood ahead proudly overlooking the busy streets.

The man was in a good mood. Today had been a good day, as far as the swordsman was concerned. He had completed his mission perfectly once again, and now had time to kick back and relax, stroll through the streets of Italy's capital city, Rome.

Enjoying the warm sun rays, his mind wandered towards his boss. He and Gokudera were in Florence dealing with the cargo thingy and that Maurizio guy. Their associate was not someone really special, but he had been serving the Vongola famiglia for many years, so he supposed he was loyal, at least. He hoped they would not stay long there. His boss tended to forget things, but surely Gokudera did remember that they had a conference in Milano to attend to.

The Rain guardian chuckled asking himself when things got so complicated. He felt it was just yesterday when he and his friends were in school and he thought they were playing a mafia game. But things escalated so quickly that the japanese man found himself drowned in them. Not that he minded. He would follow Tsuna through the pits of Hell if he needed to. He owed everything to the man who had saved his life. Not only that, but after seeing the real Tsuna, both boys had forged through the years a strong bond of friendship and camaraderie. Nay, they were more like brothers. All of them. And no matter what happened Yamamoto would never abandon them. He knew, neither would Tsuna.

The sun rays were cut off suddenly, and the black haired man looked up in surprise. Instead of the yellow ball of fire, he saw the massive statues of the Altare staring back at him. The large, numerous stairs were full of people that climbed up and down, photographing their surroundings and themselves.

A sudden chill ran down his spine and sharp hazel eyes snapped alert from left to right, searching for the cause. What he found made his eyes widen, partly in disbelief, partly in alarm.

In front of him, standing in front of the numerous stairs that lead to the entrance of the building, stood two Vindice people. Both were as disheveled as ever, their faces bandaged and hair tangled, shielding most of their faces along with their hats.

The Rain guardian looked around, hoping they would not produce a mass scare, but started when he saw that no one was even looking in their direction.

A Mist based illusion, huh.

One of them took a step forward, his empty eyes never leaving his form. Yamamoto squared his shoulders and returned his gaze, a questioning look in his warm hazel eyes.

The Vindice raised one of his bandaged hands, the chains attached to his wrist clanking loudly in the man's ears. He was so tense, every noise but the one that was produced by the guards in front of him was drowned out, reduced to a simple, far away murmur.

The Rain guardian blinked as he saw that the guard wanted to hand him a piece of old paper. Raising one eyebrow, he silently took the paper and put it in his pants' pocket. He would have time to read it later. Now he had to deal with those two.

Surprisingly, the zombies did not look like they had any other business with him. As black smoke covered their forms, the swordsman heard their hard, hollow voices leaving an echo of words in his head.

"Bring them down."

Yamamoto blinked, even more confused. Ok, he guessed things could not become more strange. The Vindice sure liked to play around, and they had the time too. The black haired man thought it was pretty awesome.

His thoughts turned back to the slip of paper and a tremor run through him. His instincts were telling him that something was not right. And they seemed to be never wrong.

His intuition and instincts were top notch in the mafia world, only falling behind to Tsuna's Hyper Intuition and Reborn's own intuition and skills. Even so, he always tried to surpass the hitman. And he promised he will someday.

Deciding to not risk reading it in the middle of the street in fear of what could be written in there, the man returned with a hurried pace towards his parked black Porsche near the Colosseum and drove off, unconsciously accelerating through the streets. He'll deal with the authorities later.

As the neon sign of the hotel came into view, the man relaxed slightly, his shoulders slumping in obvious relief. The more time that passed, the more the feeling that something was not right was growing. Stepping into the lobby, he bolted right for the elevator, pressing the 11 button with a little too much force than necessary. The ascent felt like forever, Yamamoto touching his pocket every other minute. He felt like the paper was burning a hole through his pants and skin down to his very bones.

Finally stepping into the small, but luxurious hotel room, the Rain guardian locked the door, making sure to double check before checking the windows. He knew it could be stupid or that it was a little far-fetched, especially if the Vindice gave the paper to him like that in the middle of the street. Still, it did not hurt to be cautious. Years of being in the mafia and an assassin have taught Yamamoto to keep an eye open for everyone around you, and prepare for anything that might happen.

Satisfied with his surveillance, he sat on the dark blue plush couch and took the slip out of his pocket. Gazing at the old paper, it looked to him like a pretty unimportant message, considering the choice of material. Though if it was an emergency, he supposed anything could work.

Flipping it on the other side he saw nothing new. With another breath, his fingers unfolded the paper to find a blood red message gazing up at him. Hazel eyes widened, and he froze staring at the writing in disbelief. Because that was the only thing he could feel now. Disbelief, and a hurricane of other emotions that were controlled by fear and loss.

VONGOLA DECIMO IS DEAD

AND SO WILL THE VONGOLA FALL

His right fist clenched, crumpling the paper with it. Empty light brown eyes gazed at the piece of trash before darting to the clock on the wall above the door. Yamamoto supposed he would see Hell sooner than expected. Of course, he would bring some friends with him as well.

Mukuro walked down the street, quietly enjoying the sun and the smell of sea salt. Venice, he supposed, was not that bad at all. He relished in the calm side streets, free from nosy tourists and motor boats. The small houses and piazzas that awaited them behind the large canals and circulated routes that composed the lagoon, welcomed him with open arms. Mismatched eyes glanced behind him, watching his Chrome look around her curiously, amazement glinting in her eye as she took in her surroundings with the eagerness of a child. Mukuro chuckled. He was glad the girl was enjoying their quiet afternoon.

After the irritating mission of dealing with the cargo and the people that were supposed to be taking care of it, was enough to destroy his mood. He silently cursed the disciplinarian bastard. He came one day before the mission, telling that gullible Tsunayoshi that he had business in Namimori that required his immediate attention, and that he would be departing that same day. Obviously, the damned mission had fallen onto his shoulders and he had to bear the weight.

Thankfully, the idiots that he had dealt with had, at least, a fragment of a brain. It was also fun playing with the new squad sent by the authorities. Those poor idiots did not know what hit them. And they deserved every piece.

Flipping black strands over his shoulder, he glanced up at the cloudless sky and smirked. His day was always better without clouds.

All of a sudden, a large piazza opened in front of him and the Mist guardian realized that he was gazing at Piazza St. Mark. Its enormous size had always impressed the man. At their left, the Doge's Palace and Basilica rose proudly, while the waves of the sea created a melancholic melody. Laughter and joy was everywhere making the guardian scrunch his nose. That's why he preferred the back alleys.

Looking back at Chrome, he could see she was enjoying the sight, so he supposed they could stay a few minutes more.

Absently, his train of thoughts wandered towards one of his favorite shops in the city, and he decided to make a visit there after they left.

The shop was situated a long way from the bustle of Piazza St. Mark, almost in the heart of the city. While most people tended to stay near the grand canals and water, whether to see the Gondolas or visit the stores- that were arguably more in number in those touristic zones- his favorite shop's location was relatively far away from all the bustle. Which gave him a comforting calmness that did not exist there.

Rokudo Mukuro might like chaos, but he would gladly argue that he liked ordered chaos. And he surely did not enjoy crowding or any other form of hoarding like animals, which he grimly agrees, was the only thing he will ever share in common with the Cloud guardian. He enjoyed stillness and silence. And all the architecture around him, of course.

The man had always been an admirer of fine arts, though between being an evil mastermind and annoying Sawada Tsunayoshi, he never had much time to enjoy it as a hobby in the past. Nowadays, he usually stopped by places that housed famous pieces of art and study them for hours.

Tsunayoshi and the other idiots had found his hobby out when they had spent more than five hours searching for him all around Florence, only to find him at Galleria Uffizi. The brunette haired man had laughed, saying that it was a good hobby, and he was happy that Mukuro enjoyed other things besides illusionism- and killing people.

The small shop came into view just as they rounded the corner. It looked almost run-down from the outside, but that was not the case.

Pushing the glass door open, the mint scent of candles and paint greeted him. All around the shop, traditional Venetian masks and costumes, generally wore on parades and celebrations, were scattered. Some were in the fabrication process, while others were displayed on mannequins.

Unlike the other commercial shops around the lagoon, this shop was a truly tradition-keeper. Its owner was one of the most talented mask makers in all Italy, and Mukuro, one of his best clients.

The guardians along with their boss had discovered the Mist's affinity to wearing masks and costumes very ironic and most of all, foreseeable. The man in question had only raised an eyebrow back then and refrained from impaling them all with some well manufactured illusions. He did not care for such things as fate or affinity. He liked whatever he wanted and dressed however he wanted. He had enough money to do whatever he willed. Ok, his boss did. But the guardians were rewarded with serious cash for their missions, too.

"Buongiorno. Welcome. I see you have decided to move here, no?" A playful voice asked from the back of the shop.

Without hesitation, the Mist guardian made his way to the curtains that divided the shop in two, stepping around carefully, in case there was something important scattered there. The owner, while a truly amazing man, with a nice personality, did not take kindly to people who break his work. Parting the black curtain, Mukuro came face to face with an old friend and smirked.

"Yes, I would like that very much. But it would not matter anyway in my line of work."

The man laughed. "Unfortunately for you, it seems. How is little Chrome?"

The girl in question poked her head into the room at hearing her name spoken, and bowed quickly in greeting.

"Quite good as well." The owner chuckled, before his black gaze met Mukuro's mismatched one. "Are you here to steal another mask from me?"

His grin clearly indicated that he was joking.

Mukuro smiled ruefully. "Why, you hurt me. I always remember to pay the prices."

The double meaning was not lost on Chrome, but she decided to not comment on it. Her Mukuro- sama had become a very wonderful person thanks to Boss and the others. He truly had changed for the better. Many said that she has as well, but the girl doubted it very much. She was very shy around strangers and still shy around her best friends. She had yet a long way to go.

The owner smiled and motioned for Mukuro to choose from the multitude of masks around the room. Mukuro- sama never missed an opportunity to enlarge his collection of Venetian masks. They were among his favorite, along with Victorian costumes. The man had long ago stopped wearing such things, but he still collected them. Which was nice, in Chrome's opinion. Everyone could use a hobby if it did not involve mutilating people to death.

The Mist's slender fingers grasped the edge of a plague mask. It had a long, beak nose, and it was all black with strips of dark red and white around the eyes. It was not an uncommon one in his collection, so Chrome wondered why he chose it in the first place.

"Oh, this is quite common, Signor Mukuro." The owner stroke his beard, voicing the girl's exact thoughts.

Mukuro only smiled tightly and answered."I had this unsettling feeling since morning. I was thinking that this mask represents it very well."

Chrome could not help but be alarmed at his confession. The black plague mask did not represent anything nice, which was an understatement. The mask was used by doctors during the Black Death plague that assaulted Europe in the 14th century and it remained a grim symbol for many. In short, it represented the biggest fear of all mankind- death. And that honestly did not sit very well with the eye patched girl.

Before she could ask her mentor what he meant, the guardian had already paid for the object and said his goodbyes quickly, before leaving the shop.

Even more confused by his actions, Chrome could only follow after him in a hurry. The small alley was deserted when they exited the building.

Mukuro only managed to take a few steps forward before he froze, his trident immediately materializing in his right 's eye widened at the two familiar figures emerging from black smoke.

The Vindice guards stood motionless, staring at Mukuro and the man right back at them.

Panic fluttered in the girl's chest, but she squashed it quickly. They did not come here for Mukuro-sama. He had done nothing wrong, Chrome made sure of that.

Boss had asked her long ago to look after Mukuro and make sure he did not do anything dangerous or commit any crime. She had been handed this mission and she made sure nothing had happened. But then, why were they here?

Before any of them could speak, one of the Vindice stepped forward, his long hand lifting in Mukuro's direction. Instead of the pointing finger the illusionist expected, he was greeted with a paper to the face- almost. He stepped back just as the guard came forward, successfully saving himself from an awkward situation. He stared at the paper for a few moments, before realizing it was meant for him. Hesitating to accept something from the people that put him in jail, he took it and took another step backwards. The zombie walked towards Chrome then, handing her the same paper, which she accepted gingerly.

Seeming finished with his job, the Vindice zombie teleported back next to his partner, and smoke started enveloping them both. Before they left, the second guard spoke, his raspy, hollow voice resonating through the alley.

"Bring them down."

Both guardians blinked at the same time, watching the shadows disappear. After the smoke cleared, Mukuro turned around on his heels, marching back inside the shop without another word. Having no other choice, Chrome entered after him.

"We will use your room for a few moments, owner." The guardian informed in flawless Italian. The older man was confused but agreed wholeheartedly, motioning them inside.

The little room was no larger than her own bathroom back at the Vongola mansion, but it was so full, you barely had place to walk. Chrome sat on the only seat left on the brown, worn leather couch, while Mukuro sat in front of her in a rotating office chair. He took out his paper nonchalantly and began reading it.

Chrome would have done that herself, had she not been scared of what she'll find in there. It was her turn now to have a bad feeling about all this. Her eye widened when she saw the man in front of her freeze, his different eyes opening wide and his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, before his expression went grim, mouth pressed in a thin line.

Heart racing, Chrome unfolded her own paper staring at the blood red colored message in horror.

VONGOLA DECIMO IS DEAD

AND SO WILL THE VONGOLA FALL

Mismatched eyes stared at the beaked nose of the mask and their owner released a humorless laugh.

"I didn't know it could feel bad to be right."

Hibari Kyoya yawned, his steel grey eyes looking up at the sky absentmindedly. He was bored, for lack of a better word. He would give anything to have someone to bite to death right about now.

His mind wondered to the mission that he had missed out and growled. The stupid herbivore could not wait one more day for Hibari to return from Japan. He had to go and give it to the pineapple head herbivore. His growl transformed into a sneer and he made a mental note to bite both herbivores to death.

His eyes gazed at the bustling city of Namimori below. The shrine hill offered an amazing perspective. Once, Hibari thought that Namimori was a big city, even if some were bigger. As the keeper of discipline, he concluded it was big enough. Keeping in line so many herbivores at once was hard work, even in such small suburb. But then, the damned herbivore and his baby tutor- that admittedly both were pretty dangerous, and that was mostly the reason Hibari even gave them a second glance- had whisked him up along with his herd of herbivores in Italy. There, he had learned that the world could be so much bigger.

He had been obviously angered by the guts Sawada Tsunayoshi displayed when he thought that he could bring him to Italy along with them, but the baby argued that there were many opponents for him where they were going. And he was right. Very.

The man smirked remembering his first few days in Italy. In short, it had been hectic. The herbivore had been horrified, especially at his- what he called- reckless behavior, but he would never turn down a fight. And there had been plenty. He supposed the mafia was not so bad as he had thought. At least there were people who knew how to offer a good fight.

His gaze found Hibird flying in circles above him, its small, yellow body looking like a colored moving point on the blue sky.

"Hibari-san, the guys from Yuzuru Yakuza are here to discuss the terms of the proposal." A voice said from behind him.

The Cloud growled at his peace being destroyed once again. Since he spent a lot of time in Japan, Sawada Tsunayoshi had deemed it right to make him head of the Homebase in Namimori. Well, he was pretty much the only one always there.

Hibari had been tasked to deal with all the idiots around here now. He supposed this was the Decimo's way of getting revenge on someone. He would bite him to death next time.

Not nearly ready to leave his favorite spot behind, he motioned for Kusakabe to make the preparations and invite the idiots inside. He'll come at some point. The older man nodded and hurried off, disappearing into thin air when he reached the entrance of the Namimori shrine.

The new Vongola boss had been adamant they keep and build with the same blueprints the base from the future was built. He said that it was better that way, since everyone already knew their way around and so on. The others had no choice but to agree, so the base was exactly as the one from their ten-year-later adventure. Of course, he did not bother in changing the Foundation's base either.

The prefect let another couple of minutes pass before deciding the idiots had waited long enough. The black haired man lifted himself from the ground and dusted off his suit jacket before donning it on. Visual intimidation through clothing, Hibari had learned, was a true weapon in the Underworld.

Taking his time to climb up the stairs, his mind wandered to his morning meal, a quick flash of a broken tea cup assaulting his mind before disintegrating into nothingness. He had brushed it aside that it was nothing. And it was.

His foot lifted to make the step forward to enter the shrine, but froze mid air.

The Cloud guardian recoiled and got into a fighting position, his tonfas out and gleaming. In front of him, silent as the dead, stood two Vindice guards, their torn clothes fluttering in the wind. They did not make any move, simply staring at the man in front of them.

Sensing no ill intentions, Hibari let down his tonfas. But he was not a man of patience.

"What do you want?" He growled, throwing them a fierce glare.

The two did not move a muscle at the threatening attitude. One of them stepped forward, his long arm extending towards Hibari.

The tonfas were up once again, but nothing happened. The guardian blinked when he saw the guy was giving him a piece of paper.

"Herbivore, you better be joking..." The growl transformed once again in a sneer, threatening to explode. The zombie did not even blink and Hibari knew better than to make war with this organization.

He had made the mistake in the past, and he would not like to repeat it. Even if it was a good fight, the fact that he had his ass handed to him by his wimpy boss had opened his eyes to many things. One of them being that Tsunayoshi Sawada was no simple herbivore- he was an omnivore.

He snatched the piece of paper from the other's hand, his eyes never straying from their disheveled forms.

Black mist began to envelop the two. Before they disappeared, the second one spoke in a deep, throaty voice.

"Bring them down."

And with that they were gone. Hibari blinked, quite confused. Those people handed him a stupid message and left just like that. Did the Vindice fall so low as to act as a post delivery service now. The fuck was with that paper anyway?

Hibari was never one to swear, but the dirty, crumpled paper in his hand looked like it went through the waste bin and back. This was poor service first of all. He would give them a piece of his mind next time.

A sudden thought struck him and he scowled. He really hoped, for his boss's sake, that the brown haired man did not send him this message. Because he would kill this time, not bite.

He turned on his heels, disappearing from view, as he made his way towards his office. He had decided to read it later, after he dealt with the idiots on the other side of the Shōji doors, but curiosity overwhelmed him and he unfolded the paper. Dark red text faced him, and in that moment Hibari felt his blood go cold for the first time in his life.

VONGOLA DECIMO IS DEAD

AND SO WILL THE VONGOLA FALL

Resisting the impulse to shred the shitty paper, the man folded it, placing it back in his pocket. His face was a mask of indifference, as always, when he entered the room.

"Get out herbivores. I've got carnivores to hunt."

Lambo thought, not for the first time, that being a Vongola guardian- or being in general a part of the prestigious Vongola famiglia- was both a blessing and a curse.

The blessing part, even if he would not admit it out loud, was the loving and dysfunctional family he had acquired. Until the age of five, he had been all alone, but when he had arrived in Japan, he had met so many wonderful people that made Lambo think he was truly lucky.

Baka- Tsuna and the other guardians were now the center of his world and would remain so for a long time. Admittedly, he still had reservations for some of them- Hibari, because he had been bitten to death enough times. Mukuro, because he had been put under nasty illusions enough times. And Gokudera, because he had been scolded and forced to listen to hours of theoretical things he did not understand enough times.

But even so, all of them had saved Lambo, and had been there for him whenever he had needed someone, so the teen would never dare to complain.

Chrome, Kyoko and Haru were always there, too, when he needed someone more understanding. Even the ever serious Hana- who hated him when he had been a kid, though he learned that she hated all kids- was cooing over how handsome he had become. And whenever he was bored, I-Pin and Fuuta were his trusted company.

All in all, his family was his world even if sometimes there was too many violence and swear words going around the house.

The curse part was a delicate subject to go around on. Besides the many assassins, mafia wars and conflicts that were half happening on Vongola Mansion's grounds, the way he was treated in the outside world was affected as well. Needless to say, he did not care at all. He will always be proud to be a part of this family. But people at the Academy- where Baka- Tsuna had forced him to go- were certainly not so lenient on his situation. Despite the brunette's scowling face as he signed the paper for a Mafia Academy, since Reborn argued that Lambo would not fit anywhere and their secret would be either way in danger- which the teen would like to argue that it was not. Tsuna wanted Lambo to enjoy a true school life. And ever since that faithful day 7 years ago, he had been forced to be the best at everything. His teachers obviously had high expectations from the boy, and his colleagues did not make it much better.

While most of the girls were a part of his fanclub, and some boys were good guys but pretty creepy, the rest of the so-called cool kids were either sneering at him or picking on him. They would not stoop so low as to bully him, like some less gifted others, because there was the danger of the Vongola leveling their houses overnight. Not that Lambo would ever tell any of his family. He needed to be able to deal with them. That's what he had promised Reborn and himself.

"Lambo!" A girl squealed and waved wildly in his direction. The teen smiled back and waved a little too enthusiastic to be real, but nonetheless, the girl looked happy as she skipped away to join her friends.

The teen sighed, whishing he could have an invisibility cape or something like that. He should ask Spanner later.

His feet guided him to a well known path down the streets of Sicily's biggest city, Palermo, the center of the Italian Mafia World. And home to Vongola Headquarters.

The Lightning guardian was asked by Ryohei to pick up a package from the Tomaso, since he was busy with some unexpected mission.

Fleetingly, he relieved his own mission with the older man the other day at Mafia Land. They've been tasked in monitoring the Settera famiglia in case those guys tried something, but nothing had seemed out of the ordinary back then. The only alarming point was the few moments in which Don Rittoro had met with some shady guy. He had had his face covered so they could not see who it was, but big brother Ryohei seemed to know something, since he made to leave immediately after witnessing that. And then they met young Vongola and the others. Good times.

Lambo turned the corner, officially entering on Tomaso territory. Surprisingly, this famiglia still survives, even with all the forces of the world against it. When their place in the Vongola Alliance was solidly established, Tomaso had been welcomed better by other allies and they managed to gain some influence.

Tsuna had the idea a few years ago and proposed it to Longchamp Naito. He explained that in exchange for spy services and information gathering, the Tomaso famiglia had Vongola's ultimate protection. They were required to not leave the shadows and appear to the outer world as a little famiglia that could not do anything, while on the inside they trained spies and agents. To ensure the success of the operation, he Guardians were tasked separately to train and participate in the forming of the organization. Even so, Lambo had not been there much. Thinking about it now, he did not have much to offer either, so he supposed it was only fair game.

A few guys with black fedoras, long black coats and black sunglasses- that looked pretty uncomfortable to be worn in the shadows they were stationed in- nodded in his direction. Lambo rolled his eyes but offered a nod back nonetheless. Those guys screamed mafia. He only hoped this was part of the fooling. The teen slouched, putting his hands in his pants' pockets and sighed. He was bored already.

Rounding yet another corner, he entered a shadowy alley that screamed mafia setting. Seriously now, he really hoped these guys were trying to fool enemy famiglias not Hollywood film makers.

A sudden shiver went down his spine and he stopped, foot lifted midair, large green eyes fixed on the two black forms before him- which Lambo concluded could not be the same mafia thugs from before.

He swallowed hard, trying to contain his tremors as one of the Vindice guards walked closer. The guardian swiftly recounted all his sins, but he came up blank on reasons why he should be arrested. If you did not count chewing gum robbery, then he was as clear as one who grew up in the mafia could be. Tsuna never encouraged stealing and so on, and was greatly aversed to anyone doing such thing. He argued that they were stealing enough money and things as it was, they did not need any more material robbery now. Not to mention that the Vongola famiglia had enough money to buy Lambo chewing gum for life if he so wanted. But the teen might have been dared or in a pinch, he will never tell.

Emerging back from his thoughts, his fear returned full force when he saw the zombie guy standing only a few meters away. From the close distance, Lambo felt the cold mist that could freeze one's very core, and shivered inadvertently.

The Vindice lifted his hand, handing him a piece of paper, which he accepted gracefully, before stepping away from him.

"Uh, t-thanks...?" He cringed at his stuttering, the sentence becoming a question in its finale.

The guard did not grace him with an answer, instead he teleported back next to his partner and the same black smoke enveloped them both. Before disappearing, the second zombie said in a scary, zombie voice.

"Bring them down."

And with that, they were gone. The guardian blinked, very confused now. His eyes locked on the dirty paper. Looking once, up and down the road for good measure, he opened the note with trembling fingers. Dark blood text felt like it snarled evilly back at him.

VONGOLA DECIMO IS DEAD

AND SO WILL THE VONGOLA FALL

Lambo's knees buckled and he fell on the pavement numbly. His mouth felt open but he could not speak. His mind was overloaded, but he could not think of anything. And worst of all, his heart felt alive and beating, but in reality it was a cold, dead lump. And just like that, Lambo's world crashed down.

Sasagawa Ryohei swore quietly as he pulled out his keys for the black Audi parked outside the shopping mall. The sun of Palermo shined angrily overhead, making the heat almost unbearable. But Sasagawa Ryohei was a man of extremes and thus, would not be stopped by a measly heat.

No, what he was really concerned about at the moment was the increasing power and resources the Seven Alliance had acquired almost overnight. It was not impossible, but such development only meant trouble.

The Sun guardian had been tasked by his boss long ago to keep an eye on these guys and report everything he learned. He had concluded back then, that if Sawada was concerned enough to give the mission to a guardian, then it was serious after all.

And his boss's Hyper Intuition was not wrong. Rittoro and his band of thugs amassed a huge number of allies and disciples, and they were growing exponentially with each passing day. It looked like the don had appealed to the side of the Underworld that was not on such good terms with the Vongola. And unfortunately, those were many.

Even with all of Sawada's sweat and tears, he could not resolve in only a decade everything the Vongola had done in generations.

But results were and so was hope. Even so, the number of people still out for Vongola blood was high and there were cases in which history- long hatred was concerned. But the guardians, along with their boss have dealt with them in the past. What changed now?

For once, the fact that a player like Don Rittoro entered the game meant more trouble than it was worth. That, combined with the ever growing troubles going on around this never sleeping world, were enough to distract their attention, even if just for a moment, from the man's actions. And it brought dire consequences, Ryohei could feel it.

It was not just a few lost cargo here and there, or any other business conflict. What Rittoro wanted from them were territories, influence and above all- power. The man played a dangerous game and, with all of Tsuna's intuition and control, they have been dragged in it.

When the Decimo gave him the mission that night in Mafia Land, he knew that something must have happened, and he had not been wrong. Despite being only an easy reconnaissance mission, that Lambo was actually very good at- he was one of the best Vongola spies- he was sure that Rittoro had somehow knew they were there.

While Sawada said that it should not bother him, both men knew he will be angry at himself for this failure. And the confrontation with the don afterwards only seemed to serve as a conclusion that, indeed, they were spotted. But even through all that bad luck, the guardians had learned that someone was helping the Settera famiglia, and that person was important enough that he felt the need to hide himself behind a disguise.

His eye caught two black cars behind him, their tainted windows signaling nothing good. The Sun guardian almost growled.

This was not one of his days. Earlier in the afternoon, he got the rumor that two smaller famiglias were getting down to some shadier business than usual through one of his personal spies. It would have been of no concern to him, but the apparition of the name Settera had been both unsurprising and infuriating. Thinking that he could find something this time, he jumped at the opportunity.

On the bright side, he learned that, indeed, someone is helping Rittoro behind the scenes. Now it only remained to find out who.

On the not so bright side, he was now followed by his henchmen and he had probably arisen more questions at Vongola's behavior. Ups.

Grinning in anticipation of a good racing challenge, he pressed the acceleration pedal, making the car groan.

A slim, black Audi was like a dirt stain on the multi-colored Italian countryside. Ryohei knew that very well. But even with all this visibility, those henchmen's cars could only gain so much speed, so the man decided to cut the show earlier and go back to headquarters. Cutting through the line of trees that populated the right side of the road, his finger pressed the red button on the backside of the wheel making the car release a screeching noise. Placing both hands on the wheel, the boxer turned it left. In a cloud of dust and earth, a new car emerged from the line of trees. A red sedan decelerated to a normal speed in the opposite direction. Ryohei donned a pair of hologram sunglasses, making it appear on the outside that the car was driven by an old woman.

His plan worked when his chasers sped off without a second glance, in the direction the dust was settling. The Sun guardian whistled before turning a right towards home.

The Vongola mansion glistened in the afternoon sun, its vast gardens adding to its colossal size. Ryohei sped directly towards his boss's office, his eyes only seeing the double dark wood doors. Servants scattered off to the side in order to avoid the guardian's rage.

The man knew that Sawada was not home yet, still in Florence probably, but he needed the files on the Settera to add what he learned today.

Throwing the doors open he stepped inside- with the destination secret storage room- but stopped in his wake when he felt a wave of cold wash over him. Muscles tensing and fists up ready for a fight, grey eyes locked on his adversaries and widened. The Vindice stood unmoving, clearly not disturbed by his behavior. Looking around the office once, the man concluded nobody else was there, so he returned his attention to the duo.

Before he could open his mouth to ask what was happening to the extreme, a bony hand almost collided with his face. In his thin, long fingers was a simple piece of paper.

Ryohei eyed the paper for a moment, not quite comprehending what he was looking at, before shaking off his stupor and quickly accepting the offering. He knew the Vindice were not the nicest guys around- and not the most patient either.

The zombie backed away as soon as the paper was out of his touch and black smoke began enveloping them both. Before they disappeared though, his partner spoke, voice deep and rusty, grating your very core.

"Bring them down."

After the dust settled, the Sun guardian allowed himself to relax a little bit. But then his eyes landed on the piece of dirty old paper clutched in his right hand and his muscles tensed again. He knew the Vindice did not make any deliveries and such for personal enjoyment, so whatever this was, it was not good.

Gulping, he seated himself at Sawada's desk, standing stiff on the black leather office chair, not quite daring to lean back. Steady fingers unfolded the paper, letting blood red text take over his vision.

VONGOLA DECIMO IS DEAD

AND SO WILL THE VONGOLA FALL

Ryohei's breath hitched, his throat constricting with each passing second he glanced at the message. This could not be right. It was not true.

But it can be.

The Sun Guardian leaned back in the comfortable chair, shoulders slumping and mind reeling with unanswered questions. His blank gaze moved from the neatly arranged desktop to the room itself.

This was what Sawada had been planning since he had received that damned alliance invitation. His boss did not change, but his behavior shifted a little bit, enough for the guardians to notice that something was on his mind. They assumed it was stress and paperwork and other such things, but none of them ever thought that this was the reason. Kyoko came to the same conclusion long ago, but instead of leaving the brunette to his own devices, she confronted him, despite her brother's forewarnings to leave the young boss alone.

Nevertheless their discussion was pretty fruitless, since Sawada did not want to open his mouth on the subject, so his sister decided to not open hers or see him for a couple of weeks. That was quite the fight they got at the time. Ryohei had shuddered back then for the man.

He was not sure how he knew, but his instincts were telling him that he was right. Sawada had known that he was going to die, or at least that this was going to happen. The question remained- did he knew that today was the day- and in Florence nonetheless.

With a sudden burst of energy, the extreme boxer lifted himself from the chair, his hands slapping the wood desk, making a couple of papers fall to the ground.

If the Settera famiglia wanted it like this, they'll indulge them. Ryohei was not a man that liked wars, but he enjoyed challenges and was never one to let his pride get trampled on. And he was one of the less prideful lot. The Vongola will make sure to grind those low lives to dust.

This was war.

a/n: sooo i hope you liked the first chapter! more to come later ^^

this fic is the continuation of my one shot 'The best kind of trip is to the future'. I recommend you read that too in order to understand everything better

guess who has read too many Dan Brown books (joke, there are never too many xD ). I may have probably been inspired by some things from his books, but only slightly.

as always, please tell me if you find grammar and spelling mistakes so i can correct them

Reviews and Feedback are appreciated! :D