Music Can Be As Badass As Mafia

Full Summary: ...And keys can proclaim one's will just as well as flames can. When Reborn comes to Namimori to train the Tenth Vongola boss, he anticipates an average homeschooling student with barely any athletic skills whatsoever and an inclination to get a musical education, as per the info Reborn received. Instead, he finds out that everything is much more serious. Sawada Tsunayoshi is a... well-known and greatly loved pianist? Though still a hysterical one, at that.

Instead of dumping the mafia world on the boy's head, Reborn is the one who is thrown into an equally as crazy and hectic world of music schools, jury politics, competitions and back stages in which Tsuna is more known as Yoshi, though he still is Tsuna to people who know him closely, and he is nearly not as awkward nor so talentless and bullied as he seems to be in everyday society. Though it's not as if Reborn can be thrown off so easily, huh?

Warnings: AU, Talented!Tsuna, Musically-gifted!Tsuna, Smarter!Tsuna, passing OCs, (musical) language, Italian terms and a big amount of music-related plot. Musical instruments ahoy!

"Honestly, he's even smaller than me! And he's so cute..."

"Oh shut up, that's not the coolest thing about him. Have you actually payed any attention to how he plays?"

"So cute!"

"I'm telling you, he's a genius. I've heard his interpretations and even a few of his recent compositions. God, he's only thirteen. We're already fifteen. And as you said, he's small yet he manages to maintain an amount of energy required for playing for more than hour! There's rumors that he's aiming for Saint-Saëns second g-moll concerto with orchestra! The third part!"

"And his hair are so kawaii!"

"As I was saying, his technique is so- so- ugh! He can grind diamonds with it! He must spend lots of hours and he has so many concert requests – it's a miracle he can keep up with the insane amount of repertoire he has! And I can't even imagine how he deals with school – I heard he writes exams a few times a semester and his marks aren't as bad, considering he must spend at least half a day in front of the instrument."

"I'm definitely getting his autograph this time!"

"Satsuki-chan, are you even listening?!"

"I wonder if he likes roses... Yes, I'm getting roses! And I'll definitely get to the stage today – I'm especially determined!"

"Oh come on, Satsuki-chan!"

"You should blame yourself for taking me to his concert, Kasikomi-chan! I never thought classic music was so wonderful. You really were right."

"At least you acknowledge that classic music is great."

"...And of course, I never thought musicians were so cute."

"Satsuki-chan..."

Reborn was getting exasperated.

He had delivered the flyer with the offer of his 'home tutor' job and had been listening to the gossip circulating through Namimori for three hours already and he was not getting anything useful.

All the gossip consisted of trivial things: the discounts at the market, a person's cat giving birth to an especially big litter, some of the latest political news, the local yakuza planning to put an assault on the neighboring town on hold for some reason and...

And the upcoming solo piano concert that will be taking place at Namimori Middle this evening.

The city was buzzing with it – from neighbor's chatting with each other to students going to school, the obvious example being the pair of girls passing by the tree the number one hitman was sitting on.

It was annoying.

All he heard from the people about the news were praises and excitement about getting to hear this pianist. From what he gathered (not that he'd intended too – he just filed the information automatically because who knows, it might turn out to be useful), the pianist was a thirteen year old boy with, apparently, skills of a grown up and what was more, the gift of reaching into one's very soul with his play. The sheer force of his technique was also a praised matter and people who actually understood at least a bit in the musical profession were telling how exceedingly natural the boy seemed to be able to play. They said that his way of playing was a wonder because the audience was entranced with the vivid and liveful sound the teen made. The impact of the overall phrasing was mentioned too.

It wasn't really important though, because Reborn hadn't come to this town to go on concerts, even if he rather appreciated classic music. (He was a self-respecting Italian, of course he did.)

But coming back to the matter at hand, it was also proof that Sawada Tsunayoshi, the boy he'd come from Italy to train into a good mafia boss, was – disappointingly, because Reborn had hoped Tsunayoshi's blood would make him at least in some way differ and stand out amongst others – not in any way out of ordinary, or else the baby would have heard otherwise from the hungry gossipers.

As a matter of fact, he didn't hear anything about the boy in Namimori. Of course, the boy was practically homeschooling, only turning up for classes in given weeks and only showed up in school for exams and such – which was something Reborn was yet to find out why; what in the world could excuse an average student from not attending lessons? – so any nicknames or rumors that were bound to be there if the boy studied in school on regular basis were not present.

Again, there was only gossip about this 'Yoshi' boy, how everybody called him.

As he previously said, annoying.

Onyx eyes glinting in a very ominous way indeed, the Sun Arcobaleno headed to the Sawada residence.

After all, he did need to check why Tsunayoshi's mother had not yet called him for the services he offered.

...

It was getting out of hand.

Nobody was at the house and it seemed that both Sawada Tsunayoshi and Sawada Nana were out.

A vein almost popped on Reborn's temple. He'd have to wait for the two to come back and for his future charge's mother to phone him, so there would be an excuse for him to enter the house. (So much fuss when he could've just barged in but then again, that wasn't Reborn's style).

Almost sighing, the number one hitman remembered about the concert and made a hypothesis that both might possibly have gone there. With nothing better to do at the moment, he decided to drop by the place and maybe even sit for a bit and listen, if he felt like it. After all, he didn't really have high hopes for a middle school musician.

When Reborn got to the school – from what he gathered, that was where the event would take place – it was bursting with crowds of people and just as he walked up to the not-really-well-made 'concert' hall which was organized from the speeches hall, a stampede of students rushed by, causing such a wind that it caused the hitman's fedora to almost fly off if not for his steady grip on it.

Just as he was about to follow, a particularly strong presence entered Reborn's radar and he turned around just in time to see a tall raven-haired teenager with a red armband sweep into the scene and unsheath two proficiently held tonfas from under his black jacket.

"Crowds are not acceptable. I shall bite you to death if you do not enter the concert hall immediately. If there will be any noise or commotion during the concert, I shall bite you to death."

The second time the teen mentioned 'death', it clearly implied a worse fate to befall on one than if they merely crowded, implying a permanent punishment. In any way interfering with the concert seemed to be regarded as sin.

The crowds scattered in terror and the school yard was quickly void of any people. The raven-haired had watched them rush into the hall and after a few seconds, swiftly yet elegantly followed after.

Watching them with an unreadable expression, the Arcobaleno graciously followed after them as he presumed they were headed to the concert.

The baby entered the a-la-concert-hall just as an eager woman told him to get in quickly so she could close the doors already – he didn't even receive the meaningful glance people usually gave him because of their surprise at his age and lonesome whereabouts - and took a look at the rest of the hall.

It was packed.

Reborn only found a seat at the very end of the hall and took the seat (well, the top of the seat back, so he could at least see the boy's hands). He'd also noted that the local yakuza gang he'd overheard earlier were sitting in the row in front of him.

Well, if the boy's playing could stop yakuza from clashing with each other...

The audience started clapping and soon, impatient applause thundered through the building.

A female student with short brown hair had come from behind the scenes and spoke a cheery 'welcome' speech to 'Namimori Middle' which Reborn tuned out, though he heard certain bits.

"...Today's concert is dedicated to the ingenious Russian composers of the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth century such as Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, Skryabin and Prokofiev. First, Sergei Rachmaninoff's cis-moll prelude and the Musical Moments will be..."

Reborn had once again tuned her out.

A couple of minutes later of small biography on the composers and the list of pieces to be played – quite a big one; apparently there were two parts of the concert which was by itself an impressive thing – a name caught Reborn's attention but unfortunately the applause that had started just at the mention of the boy's name were so loud that he was only able to distinguish the end.

"-yoshi!" The female student ended almost gleefully as she waved a hand at the scenes in a gesture of welcoming the pianist on stage and disappeared behind them herself.

To the applause and well-hidden surprise of the baby hitman, a rather scrawny and even slightly hunched over figure in a slightly too-big black suit entered the stage and the hitman, even though he couldn't see the teen that well – someone made an absolutely genius work with the lights, may his sarcasm be forgiven – he couldn't believe how weak and trembling the boy seemed.

He scoffed.

This was supposed to be the oh-so-genius player everyone spoke so highly of? Reborn knew how real pianists looked and felt – once they came on stage, their presence could rival with that of powerful swordsmen. This? This was an excuse for a musician.

Meanwhile, the boy had bowed politely and blushed lightly at the fawning girls that seemed to take the place in the front rows and emit sparkles. He walked over to the grand piano and took the seat, rubbing his hands on a small handkerchief nervously and putting it on one side of the instrument. He adjusted the seat to his comfort and waited for the applause to recede. Once there was silence, he breathed in and out and raised his thin hands over the key board...

In the next forty five minutes, Reborn was forced admit that he was wrong.

Drastically wrong.

The moment the boy's fingers connected with the instrument, the whole hall was enveloped in a strong and powerful aura that didn't match the boy's appearance.

At all.

The very first three chords seemingly gentle but foreboding had shook everyone including Reborn to the core with the infinite depth vibrating within them.

The boy had Power.

With a very soft and natural sound coming from under his fingers and a powerful melody echoing through the hall, Reborn could close his eyes and feel the utter sadness of the heart-breaking harmony. The boy's eyes were closed and he took the major-tenth-big accords with ease not questionable. Yoshi almost cringed in pain at the peak of the deceptively quiet harmonies, as if living through it himself. Soon, the music's very slow but sure flow headed down where an ominous melody went through the bass.

The following fast passages grew into a swift mezzo, a free rubato underlining every key with attention and it grew into forte array of passages and accords and then it shifted into a desperate plea and with the reprise the tension rose and the culmination came. With a regal air, the music spoke of a righteous rage and fury at something beyond words and something that was being expressed through the ten fingers of the pianist.

Reborn's eyes widened and he realized that it was beautifully done. Even the heart-wrenching harmony of the very peak of the culmination made something like a shock run through his body and with stark clarity the boy onstage expressed raw emotions in a way Reborn had never before heard.

He could not at all comprehend how such a frail-looking child could possess such power that was not only there but was also carefully converted into each of the boy's fingers.

The whole concert hall was absolutely silent which proved the impression the prelude left on the people.

For the rest of the first part of the concert, Reborn remained frozen to his seat. The prelude was followed by 'Melody' – a piece from the same opus, yet the contrast was shown stark and clear by Yoshi. The melody seemed like the sound of a crystal and the whole piece was played as if on one breath, even the moment of stillness right after the culmination as well as the nerve-tingling part where the melody was accompanied by another one in the other hand and the last ending sounds melting into the air were as if they were tangible and left an aftertaste gradually dispersing into nothingness.

Next was Prokofiev and as shameful as it was, Reborn didn't know much about the composer. Nevertheless, Yoshi's play had very much compensated Reborn's lack of knowledge with the first, second, fourth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth pictures of the Vision Fugitives. The contemplating and philosophical nature of the first two ones contrasted to the slightly sharp and angered mood of the fourth and to the small and playful sixth one. The seventh with it's legato passed on the impression of a soft harp very vividly and the eighth two melodies interacted like two living people. The tenth was tinged with a bit of a joyful nature with passing shadows of dissonances and ended in an entirely other tonality.

Prokofiev, Reborn found, was a bit odd but it seemed as if it was all part of the idea when Yoshi played it.

And the last for the first part – oh. Tchaikovsky's 'Doumka'. Reborn hadn't known about it but it turned out to be something brilliant (at least in Yoshi's interpretation). Starting with a traditional sorrowful Russian motif of a natural minor with seventh step unchanged and the sounds of gusli, it was as if someone was narrating – as if Yoshi was narrating through the grand piano, gathering more and more strength and at a point shifting into a fast and powerful passage and tremolo which was followed by a cheerfully bright melody differing between staccato and small legates with a few lines of minor-hued accords.

Yoshi certainly had in property a mountain crystal sound that somehow reverberated through the space in a very special way.

The next part went in a flurry of passages and clearly difficult jumps from one end of the keyboard to the other which was done with enviable ease, which unexpectedly turned to a classic Russian motif again and gradually quieting down, the audience held their breath as the music stilled down to a hanging accord. Soon though, a passage accelerated and erupted in movement and rapid speed which was followed by an arpeggio of octaves in both hands that were very masterfully done.

The culmination made an amazing impact on the viewers even as it receded into repeating accords. It was unexpected that the piece hadn't ended on that note, yet no one in the hall even thought of applauding because of the way Yoshi didn't let go of the keys and of something on another level that was what differed artistically talented people from ordinary ones. The melody returned to the very first motif though this time it wasn't as lyrical and was more brisk and regretful, as if a person narrating had just told one of his brightest memories and was now thrust back into the hard reality with only an occasional slip of bright-toned harmonies.

Somehow, Reborn felt as if he could relate.

The piece was almost ended on a dark quiet note but it appeared it wasn't all – Yoshi had with an untraceable rapidness raised his hands and all but jumped from his seat as he took the last two forte minor accord.

The whole building exploded with applause and yells of 'bravo'.

Yoshi had risen from his seat and smiling, he bowed. Reborn saw sweat glistening on his forehead and the back of the boy's black suit was drenched. The hitman couldn't really blame him – that was one hell of a performance and apparently, this was only the first part. The boy had rather quickly – almost as if fleeing – left the stage even if he was called out at least two times by the applause.

The female student from before had announced a ten minute break and noise ensued as people discussed the performance of the first part and argued about what waited for them in the second.

While the break took place, Reborn thought of all the compliments he was giving the boy mentally. He decided that the boy deserved them because it was obvious that he worked hard to earn himself both the skills and the reputation.

The whole performance was a clear demonstration of Yoshi's lightning fast fingers that took bigger accords than one would expect of the scrawny teen. But the whole thing was that the audience wasn't distracted by the technical issues and could instead savor the music which Yoshi served on a silver platter.

Reborn ought to deal with the boy appropriately – a Guardian with a career like this lying ahead would certainly benefit Vongola with all the privileges a pianist had and could use in the Underworld.

(The skills of a musician were often banged into the heads of the little heirs of mafia groups – it could turn out to be an advantage if brought up correctly. The Sun Arcobaleno didn't really know of the exact details, but a career of a pianist among mafia was mostly based on diverting people's attention or otherwise serving as a distraction so there wasn't much actual music left, sadly. But the world wasn't fair like that.)

The crowds of people have already started to gather again, taking their seats, and before Reborn could carry on his thoughts, the second part ensued as the girl from the school announced the program for it and the young pianist was greeted with strong enthusiastic applause again.

The young boy had came back onstage and smiled warmly at the audience, earning quite a tide of sparkles from the first rows. This time, Reborn had been able to glimpse the hard cold steel of concentration brewing in the boy's brown eyes just before the young pianist turned away from the audience and took seat in front of the instrument, using the handkerchief to sweep over the keyboard lightly, perhaps to clean away the sweat from before.

The second part passed on one breath, starting with Skryabin's two poems from the 32 opus and the third sonata – the second and third parts, all in a swirl of foreign colors and bursts of wrath and whispers, and then Tchaikovsky's 'Seasons' – Yoshi played 'May; White Nights' and somehow, Reborn could picture the short nights in Saint Petersburg and the aroma of late spring and warm winds which, according to the female student who'd told about it in the beginning, Tchaikovsky wrote it when he'd been in Saint Petersburg in May. The boy had played the piece with outmost care and gentleness, shifting the melody as a small night breeze to a ray of sunset light to a flurry of flower scent in the evening air.

The last piece showed Yoshi's level of professionalism – Andante Maestoso from Tchaikovsky's 'Nutcracker' in Michael Pletnov's edition.

For once, Reborn was at a loss of words.

He could not with all the different languages he possessed the knowledge of express the feeling he got as he listened to the music trickling from under Yoshi's fingers.

The culmination was like nothing he'd heard before and the hitman once again could not find himself believing how this small, barely teen got to have so much power and asked where he brought the strength from as he heard the arpeggio flounce from one end of the keyboard to the other and right back, the main theme passing down from one hand to another so carefully that Reborn couldn't tell when the boy exchanged hands to continue it.

The rage had subsided, instead filling the hall with a soft melody of a farewell, the last accords ringing through the building and beyond as Yoshi resoluted the dominant into the Tonica and the last sounds faded into the world.

Yoshi breathed out and took his hands off the instrument with a small pull, as if taking away the magic he just brought away with him to show another day.

Reborn thought he'd gone deaf when he realized it was just the thunderous ovation the young pianist had got.

He found that he too had stood up and was applauding – quite sincerely indeed.

Reborn could honestly say that he had thoroughly enjoyed this concert which had come as a very big surprise though he supposed it wasn't. Gossip that had led him here always had a seed of truth.

The front – and not only – rows rushed to the stage with flowers and the young pianist bowed down to accept them and was almost drowned in bouquets of different colors. He was smiling, tiredly, but very happily and the hall applauded even louder as a faint blush crept on the teen's face and a joyful sparkle settled in those big doe eyes.

And then, thinking of how he would scold the future student of his and drag Sawada Tsunayoshi to a concert of this young pianist to motivate the brat, just as the boy on the stage straightened and glanced in Reborn's general direction, through the general noise, the Sun Arcobaleno heard the boy's whole name.

"Applause to Sawada Tsunayoshi!"

Reborn snapped around and his black eyes widened a fraction.

...Well. That really was a surprise.

A/N: I have no excuse to start up another story when I have other ones hanging but this is gonna be mostly an author's block counter (it's not thought through. at all.)

The mental image of adorable little Tsu-kun sitting in front of a big black grand piano playing something as badass as Rachmaninoff was too much to resist writing.

Yup.

Though be warned – this fic isn't gonna be all glorious concerts for Tsuna. Nope. Because being a pianist means concerts and stuff are not just the top of ice berg - they're the skin of an apple. Because honestly, even Reborn is naïve to think that all there is to music is correctly memorizing the keys and relying on talent to keep the audience occupied.