Authors Note: I don't own KHR. Most of the time I don't even own the madness that comes out of my mind. Why I wrote this—hm…hard to tell. Only that I thought it must be quite amusing seeing how someone outside Decimo's sphere would act if they were given a survival guide and nothing else and then thrown into the arena that is the Vongola Famiglia. That's it.

October 2013 – Ah…tweaking…made his age a little closer to the future Tsuna…fixing some of the weirdness. Not perfect still. I have no beta reader and my proofreader still doesn't want the damned job of reading the "trashy" things I write.

Rules of Engagement

You have to learn the rules of the game.

And then you have to play better than anyone else.

Albert Einstein

It was an imposing 16th century villa that celebrated everything that was beautiful and magnificent about the renaissance. Roughly hewn stones that concealed elegantly appointed courtyards and opulent suites of rooms that housed a treasure trove of wealth accumulated through years of trade, wars and the eventual entrée into the diverse world known to the all and sundry as the Mafia.

It was certainly to this well-to-do and deeply entrenched world that the newly elected seventeenth head of the well-established, well-to-do Corvino Famiglia found himself. Alessandro Valerius Corvino was a young man of thirty, gifted with grace, poise and intelligence and a face that turned heads when he deemed it worth his while to venture outside.

Alessandro was born in a family of three siblings, being the eldest and only son; he has been trained from the cradle to one day take over the reins of the family business and become a great boss. He was a man well-trained in the particulars and peculiarities of the Underworld having been subjected to its many and myriad rules of etiquette and members long before he could even write his own name.

But unlike most would-be heirs and successors to the Famiglia, Alessandro was not raised to be an antiquated member of his select sector. His grandparents and parents , indeed from the very first Corvino Don down the line of successors, firmly held the belief that to survive and flourish in a fast changing world, a great and effective leader must adapt and be well-prepared. His entire family has been devoted to the cause—both personal and professional—to the advancement and continuance of the Corvino Famiglia for seventeen generations. He was expected, upon his father's retirement naturally, to continue to do what is good for the famiglia.

Classically educated in the finest boarding schools of Europe, trained and groomed in the most exclusive business universities of the world, polished with every advantage allowed to someone who would later stand at the pinnacle of a powerful and wealthy organization, the young don was not unduly ruffled when the summons came from the head of his famiglia's alliance. He knew that he needed to establish his own relationships with the current members of the Main Famiglia in which his own belongs to.

He was however; mightily curious as to the reason why there had to be two particular sessions necessary before his actual presentation to the Main Famiglia in which their alliance belongs to. He understands the power and precedent necessary in establishing hierarchy and respects it mightily since he came from a corporate background, still the notion made him speculate. It made him hesitant and wary of the actions he was about to undertake. It didn't bode well for anyone when a simple 'meet-and-greet' becomes something tedious and all too officious by half.

It certainly didn't help one bit when the truth was that despite the young Don's education and ȕber-proper public image, he possessed a sense of fatalistic humor and dry wit that never fails to amuse and bemuse those around him and it was something he kept a closely guarded secret. He wanted only to project an image of perfection and cool efficiency. His personal feeling and foibles such as they were, he believed strongly, was not for the others to view and use against him.

The morning of his first meeting with the head of his alliance, Don Corvino emerged from the master suite and was greeted by his personal valet, general factotum and head of security, Mossimo Usignolo. A quiet man, wiry and instantly recognizable by his impeccably cut black suit and black wire frame glasses that concealed clever gray eyes, he has been the young don's body guard and steward since the don was five years old.

"Buongiorno, il principino."

Good morning, little prince.

"Mossimo, smettila scherzando intorno. È ancora troppo presto, no?"

Mossimo, stop joking around. It's too early in the morning for that don't you think?

"Just as you say, Boss."

"Is that so?"

"Indeed it is, Sir."

"Huh. Tell me, Mossimo, how is it that I had to become the boss before you agreed with everything I say?"

"Now, now Boss, who says I will agree to everything you say?"

"Well, knowing you…I am after all the Boss now."

"As you were mean to sir. Now, what good would that title do either one of us if I just followed you willy-nilly into the things that pop into your head."

"So that means no, right?"

"Indeed, sir."

The two of them fell into step and proceeded to the sun-filled salon where the young don has taken to eating his meals. He sat on one of the elegant wicker chairs that faced the ubiquitous Tuscan landscape and sighed.

"Breakfast, sir?"

He spared a look at the sumptuous repast laid before him and cringed at the notion of food. No matter what he believed, being boss is not as easy as others seemed to believe. He accepted the cup of coffee Mossimo pressed against his hand and contemplated the question of dining once more.

"I wonder if I should even eat. I've been to corporate meetings knowing I'm being led to veritable frenzy of sharks high on bloodlust and felt more relaxed than I do today. It's rather pathetic for twenty seven-year old to have an attack of nerves don't you think?"

"I would wonder more if you ate like nothing of merit was happening today. By the by, the Advisor of the Head Alliance came by this morning and expressed his felicitations on your ascension and apologizes for his own Boss's shortcomings. I believe he made mention of certain incidents that needed to be attended to personally by his Boss."

"Hmmm…is that so. I believe the Cavallone Don was out settling a turf war during my inheritance ceremony."

"That was my understanding too. No matter, he has undertaken the task of personally presenting you to the most powerful Famiglia in our world as a belated inheritance gift. That is an honor he doesn't confer on anyone freely. I heard that he considers the Head Famiglia and their young Don to be something of a private and personal matter to him. It is not a favor he dispenses to a whole lot of people—regardless of power and wealth."

"Then I shall consider his gift accordingly and thank him properly for it." Alessandro finally cracked a smile since waking up and winked at his companion. "I do believe I am ready to eat now Mossimo. My appetite has been fully restored."

He reached out for the plate of toast and after slathering one with enough marmalade to double its weight, took a hearty bite. He was now fully immersed in mentally reviewing other matters in his daily schedule when Mossimo cleared his throat at him meaningfully. Glancing at his valet, he absently noted the wrapped parcel in his hand.

"Do you need anything else today Mossimo?"

"Not to ruin your meal, Boss, but the Cavallone Don's gift comes in two. His Chief Advisor has left this with the request that you familiarize yourself with its content as soon as you are able and that it would be to your best advantage to learn it before you are to be presented."

Dropping his half eaten toast on his plate, the young don wiped at his mouth slowly before pinning his valet with a look, all signs of animation or humor erased from his patrician face as if they were never there.

"What precisely is that parcel Mossimo?"

"Romario of the Cavallone Famiglia called it Rules of Engagement. I believe that it contains protocols when meeting with the Head Famiglia's young Don."

The Corvino Don stared at the innocuous-looking package and felt an atavistic chill crawl up his spine. Whatever it was that it contained, it was no simple instruction or protocol. He took a final bracing sip of his morning coffee and grimaced before forcing his hand out to reach for the wrapped parcel. It didn't bode well for his chilled spine when he felt the weighty tome land against his palm.

"Rules of Engagement? Why ever would such a thing exist?"

"Perhaps it would be wise to find out, my lord."

"Undoubtedly Mossimo. Undoubtedly."

The parcel, once unwrapped from its bindings revealed a thick, intricately detailed and tooled leather journal written in a precise and graceful hand. The surprisingly thin volume consists of seemingly chapters concentrating of rules of etiquette. With a resigned sigh, the young Corvino don turned the first few pages and began to read.

REGOLE DI INGAGGIO

Rules of Engagement

Prima Regola

(Rule 1)

When meeting with the Vongola Famiglia

with the purpose of meeting and engaging Decimo,

remember that timing is everything.

Alessandro Corvino frowned. That this seemingly simpleminded adage was actually rule number one seemed rather inane. Everyone with half a brain knows that, he mused. There are some pointers when and when not to schedule any meetings or alliance especially with someone as powerful as the Head Famiglia, but somehow this detailed list that was given to him by the Cavallone Don seemed excessive to the point of presumptuousness to some degree.

He wondered briefly if he was either being mocked or tested by the established don and spent countless minutes contemplating the very first instructions for hidden meanings or loopholes. Finding none, he wondered if perhaps, he was reading too much into the actual instruction itself.

He understood the fundamental necessity of good timing, but the rules by which the Vongola was to be met pointed to a manner idiosyncratic and extreme that it seemed almost ludicrous. He glanced at the first bulleted guide and couldn't resist snorting:

DO NOT under any circumstance come too early in the morning. With the exception of a life and death situation you can no longer handle on your own, there is NO reason to come early AT ANY OTHER TIME. For further reference: Testarossa Famiglia.

"Mossimo."

"Yes, my lord?"

"Do you recall any news about the Testarossa Famiglia recently?"

"They no longer exist, my lord."

"No longer-!" he stared at his valet and tried to recall any note from his father that might have mentioned such an event but he had perfect recall of every conversation he had with his family and could say that such a thing never came up. He tried to remember if there had been any news or piece of rumor that has filtered down the grapevine of the underworld regarding the old famiglia and realized to his chagrin that he came up with a blank. Bemused, he posed the question hovering at the tip of his tongue.

"Have they been eradicated completely?"

He watched as his valet deftly lifted a silver dome off a serving dish, spooned risotto onto a vividly patterned plate before placing it in front of him with his usual efficient flourish. His question, however, remained unanswered until he pinned the man with a gimlet gaze.

"Is there anything else you require sir?"

"The Testarossa Famiglia Mossimo."

"Ah, yes. I do believe that is so, my lord. It would seem that the entire Famiglia has removed itself from all and every aspect of the Underworld, my lord. They have been out, so to speak, for nearly six months now and haven't been heard from since."

"When was this? Why haven't I heard of it—certainly I haven't heard a word or whisper of it from anyone?"

"I believe the general consensus at the time was that they deserved their fates."

"Deserved their fates! Deserved-! Why in the world would anyone think of such a thing—! What manner of actuation would merit such a fate? Was it done by a rival famiglia? A blood of feud!"

"I believe the cause what that they made a very unwise and untimely move against the Head Famiglia at the time and were promptly and firmly put in their place for such blatant display of audacity."

The cause for retaliation was not something new in their world. Respect and Power was maintained in a delicate balance. One did not rise to the top of their world without being decisive and without knowing how to deal effectively with any form of rebellion.

"I see. Do you know the cause for the attack?"

"The grapevine was very much alive during those days, though I was hardly in any position to hear most of it. I believe the Old Don and his retinue was made aware of the matter and they in turn made mention that the Testarossa attacked the villa of the Vongola's in the early morning and found death and destruction waiting there."

"Death and destruction?"

"Si. The Decimo, his guardians and I believe even the Decimo's family both biological and extended were in residence at the time of the attack. The Decimo's Chief Advisor, the former Sun Arcobaleno Reborn was also there and was reported to be the main instigator of the retaliation."

"The cause for the attack…did they know the reason for it?"

"The Testarossa's reason was simple greed and stupidity. They never placed much stock in the strength of Vongola's Decimo back then. The main cause for retaliating, however, was not the attack in itself, but rather what the attack incited. I believe the final report—if the rumors were to be believed—stated that the Chief Advisor resented exceedingly having his breakfast interrupted by the assassination plot."

Alessandro blinked. He tried—valiantly—not to frown at his valet for his untimely joke but the grave seriousness in Mossimo's impassive face curbed his tongue. He couldn't wrap his mind around what his valet was saying. So much so was his confusion that he felt he needed to verbalize his own befuddlement.

"His breakfast was interrupted and he retaliated by wiping out an entire famiglia? Is that what you and the entire Underworld are saying?" he muttered in disbelief and wondered if the rumors about the tempestuous nature of the former Arcobaleno and famed hitman were actually a tamer version of the truth.

"Apparently the Sun Arcobaleno is very fond of his morning brew and grows a tad aggressive when he is denied it."

"I see...I suppose the entire famiglia is dead-"

"No, my lord. Aside from the financial compensation demanded by the Arcobaleno from the Famiglia, the casualties were minor and none were, according to the report, fatal. Apparently, the young Vongola Decimo frowns upon anything that resulted in lethal results."

"Then why have their family's operations ceased in its entirety? Surely the head of the Testarossa Famiglia did not simply give up everything in his organization? His group could've asked him to step down and let a new leader take control and negotiate with the Vongola."

"Ideally, I suppose that could've been done if there were funds available for a new regime to take over."

"The Testarossa Famiglia has holdings all over Naples and Rome. They are not wealthy as the Cavallone—few are—but surely they are not destitute?"

"On that account, I do have something for credible for you. Information according to the traders and bankers used by our-e—soceity, if you will, confirmed that the Testarossa Famiglia has indeed been declared bankrupt."

"But whatever in the world would drain ALL their assets?"

"It would seem that well after attack on the Vongola stronghold they certainly didn't have much to go on with. The retaliation the Sun Arcobaleno devised was masterful and the compensation he demanded for not hunting down the head of the famiglia and all their advisers personally was more than sizable and the cost of repairing the ruined villa was also undertaken by the Testarossa Famiglia. Add to that the cost of paying for the hospital bill of every single one of their registered members and the Testarossa was left pretty without so much as two lira to rub together. The Arcobaleno may not have killed them, but they certainly didn't leave much after all his demands were met."

"I see. That's an utterly brilliant in a way...masterfully clever and ever more so efficient. The Sun Arcobaleno is a formidable ally to the Head Famiglia."

"Many thought so too, at the time."

"What did the alliance do?"

"What any smart man in that given situation ought to—every Famiglia that owed alliance to the Vongola sent the Sun Arcobaleno enough coffee beans, presses and espresso machines to fill an airplane hangar. Rumor has it; the Vongola mansion has a room designated for such emergencies so that a similar case will not occur again."

Alessandro glanced thoughtfully at the silent, empty cup of espresso staring right in front of him. He gave a look at Mossimo who merely stared back. He glanced at the cup again before murmuring, "Did my-"

"But of course, my lord. Your father was a smart man."

"Good. Remind me to do the same when we come calling."

"Very good decision, my lord. I shall take note of it right away."

Seconda Regola

(Rule 2)

Security is something they take seriously.

When you must meet with Decimo in Italy, contact CEDEF.

Then his Chief Advisor.

If he agrees with your request, you will be vetted by

his Storm Guardian or Rain guardian.

When you meet with him in Japan, follow protocol.

Contact the Storm Guardian.

He will then ask the Rain or Sun Guardian to vet your request.

They will contact the Foundation on your behalf.

If you pass, the Foundation will let you know.

It was the second day since he received his Libro delle regole and still Alessandro Corvino couldn't decide if he should throw the thin volume away in disgust. The notations, written in what he assumed to be the Cavallone Don's hand was fluid and clear, though their contents, in his opinion, left much to be desired.

Today he was in his study, furiously tapping at his laptop trying his damnedest to find any clue as to what exactly this so-called Foundation was. Efficient as he was at researching, and already succumbing to the assistance of his available resources, it frustrates him in no small measure to find nothing—not even a small mention—anywhere of anything regarding this so called Foundation that was supposed to vet his ability to meet with the Vongola heir. Besides, he mused irritably, what kind of name is 'The Foundation' anyway? Is this some kind of institution or charity?

He knows of the CEDEF and understood the protocol. He even understood why he needed all the necessary channels in Italy—but even in Japan, the country where the Decimo was born—the protocols where even more stringent!

Irritated, he called for his valet and made his dissatisfaction known. Mossimo would understand his ire; he knew him and his many moods and would be able to give him a fresher perspective on the matter.

"Mossimo, what in the bloody hell is this Foundation the Cavallone Don mentioned? I tried searching for it, I even asked our intelligence group and they have absolutely nothing for me. What have you learned?"

Mossimo cocked an eyebrow at his young master's belligerent tone as he poured him a glass of wine. He handed him an exquisite crystal flute and replied simply. "What makes you believe I will know something when you don't and apparently, cannot, my lord?"

He gave a snort and took a small sip of his wine, "The day you don't know anything about something is the day this famiglia collapses. The Usignolo family has been the Corvino familiglias loyal seneschals. You are quite literally the shadow we cast. Now spill what you know Mossimo."

"That would be undoubtedly messy, my lord. Not to mention the fact that it would take me years to—er, spill—metaphorically, of course, everything that your lordship demands."

"Mossimo-!"

"Ah yes, the Foundation. I believe that is the organization in charge of betting any foreign group or party that wishes to gain entry into the town of Namimori."

Alessandro gave a short shout of laughter. "A security group for the small town where he grew up in?!" He nearly spilled the wine in his glee and had to surreptitiously wipe at the small spill he made on the antique desk before Mossimo's sharp eyes caught it before chuckling merrily, "The Vongolas' have such eccentric habits, don't they. How positively quaint. I wonder how such a small company could be more effective than their very own CEDEF."

"I wonder at that too. Perhaps you could put it to a test."

"You know what, Mossimo, that's a great plan. Let us see what this little quaint Foundation can do."

Three days later, three letters of rejection turned up in the doorway of the Corvino Famiglia stronghold. Their request to come and see the town had been politely declined and each time it was on the basis of some weakness in their security that they never actually realized until it was cuttingly and coldly pointed out by a security group that was nowhere even near the Famiglia headquarters.

Bemused, he sent a request effectively inviting the Vongola Decimo to join him in his summer home. In his wickedly inventive and mischievous mood, Alessandro conveniently forgot to add any address to the invite, stating simply that it was somewhere in France.

Two days after a small envelop of documents arrived at the Palazzo Corvino. In the packet was a detailed aerial view of his private cul-de-sac, complete with the titles and proof of ownership he had signed two years past, papers and legal documentation he certainly never filed personally since he has ostensibly placed the property under a different name and never mentioned it to anyone outside his immediate family. The packet also included a blueprint of the house's structure down to its very foundation and a meticulously listed and itemized bill for the cost of finding out where his summer home was.

Along with all the fairly alarming amount of information was a small pale lavender card printed with a very short and succinct message:

The Foundation knows and sees all. Now pay the damned bill. Or I will bite you to death.

"Charming." Alessandro muttered glumly and stared at the package once more. It was then that he noticed that Mossimo was coming up to him with a piece of paper he later recognized as a bank draft. His eyes naturally scanned the printed legalese and frowned at the line where his name could be currently found. He lifted his gaze from the thick sheaf of documents and frowned at his clearly waiting and expectant valet. "Mossimo, what is the meaning of this?"

"My lord, your eyesight is excellent; they cannot have failed you yet. As you can fairly ascertain yourself, it is a bank draft paying for services rendered by the Foundation."

"Mossimo, tell me, in your infinite wisdom, whatever gave you the idea that I would actually pay for this travesty of an assignment?"

Mossimo regarded his young Boss with clear, unflinching grey eyes and promptly straightened his stance. Placing his hands, joined together as was his custom, behind him, he gave a nod towards the document his boss was currently glaring at with such clear disdain.

"My lord, when you asked me what the Foundation was, I believed I mentioned that it was run by a small independent security group in Namimori, the town where the Vongola Decimo was born."

"I know all that. What I don't know is why you are actually making me pay for their temerity in scavenging through the private details of my life."

"Sir, you told them you are planning to invite Decimo. Nay, challenged them is more the thing when you announced that you shall spirit away their boss in your undisclosed manor in France. It is their job to know where he goes and what he is to expect there."

"It was a test—"

"And they passed splendidly."

"Annoyingly, you mean."

"Sir, I suppose I should add one more detail to the Foundation's information, though certainly didn't think it was relevant."

"I seriously doubt it would matter to me, Mossimo."

"The Foundation is run by the Vongola Decimo's Cloud Guardian. He is said to be the most unforgiving of all his guardians."

Alessandro only glared even more so at Mossimo and huffed irritably, "And so? I fail to see where you are going with this Mossimo."

Mossimo merely gave a short sigh before gathering the remains of his lord's afternoon repast, making quick work of clearing his table before replenishing the contents of his wine glass. As he handed the flute back to his young master, he glanced pointedly at the bank draft before murmuring softly.

"Must I point out, my lord, that this is also the man who runs an organization that took us a few days to even be aware of. The same man who found out where your private cul-de-sac was in less than 48 hours with nothing more to go on than that it was somewhere in France. It would require no stretch of imagination to think how effectively such a man could make a fuss should you refute his claim for payment."

Alessandro threw an uneasy glance at the stack of documents that accompanied the stiff card that came that day before his eyes fell once again on the bank draft harmlessly waiting on top of his desk. He gave a look at Mossimo before giving short nod.

"I suppose, in light of all things considered, I do owe him for services rendered."

"I believe that is, indeed, quite the thing, my lord."