A/N: Much love to Wyrvel for beta-reading this chapter.

Target 27: Small Rebellions

Iemitsu waited until after his wife left the house for a quick trip to the corner store before he entered. He waited impatiently in the kitchen for Tsuna to finish getting dressed and come downstairs. Iemitsu didn't need Hyper Intuition to pick up on Bianchi's distaste for him. He did wait until he intuitively picked up on when she would be set most off-balance before he said, "What is it?" making Bianchi drop the plate. It chipped on the edge of the sink. "Well done."

Bianchi wanted to turn and glare at him, but he was probably trying to bait her. She picked up the plate, dried it off, and set it up in the cupboard.

"Well?" he said again.

She shook her head. "It's nothing. What are you doing with Tsuna?"

"Just want to talk with my son, and I need to go downtown anyways and get a new seal commissioned. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Hmph." She went back to her work, and distracted herself by thinking of all the ways she could poison Iemitsu's food. Unfortunately, that would probably keep him stuck in Japan longer while he recovered.

Tsuna finally came downstairs, and he was wearing a hot pink nylon jacket with purple stripes and a big yellow star on the front. Iemitsu did a double-take when he saw it. "What in the name of god is that?"

Tsuna looked from his father's incredulous expression, down at himself, and then with all the innocence he could muster, he said, "A coat?" As Iemitsu stood there, gaping like a dead fish, Tsuna headed for the door and was a little proud of himself, even if the jacket was hideous.

"So, when are you gonna talk to mom?"

"About?"

"Uh. About how you're a gangster?"

Iemitsu actually had the gall to look affronted. "I am not a gangster, Tsuna, don't be ridiculous."

Tsuna was silent for a minute as he tried to figure out if his father was telling a bald-faced lie about being involved with the Mafia, or if it was just the word he had issue with. He decided it had to be the second one, because otherwise his father was delusional, medically.

A little more quietly, Tsuna said, "You work with the Mafia, doesn't that make you a gangster?"

Iemitsu shot him a stern look, a warning to be quieter. "I am an advisor; I don't do business. You should know that."

Tsuna rolled his eyes, and if it hadn't been for the group of high schoolers coming down the road from the other direction, Iemitsu would have struck Tsuna on the face with the back of his hand.

"Mom wants to talk to you," Tsuna tried again, after they passed the students. "About your stuff with, uh, with your work. Maybe you should talk to her before you go to Tokyo, so the whole trip isn't awkward?"

Iemitsu considered it. "I'll talk to her when we get back to the house."

"Okay, good."

Tsuna let him be from then on, and his father didn't say anything, though a few times he seemed like he was going to try and strike up a conversation, even if he decided against it and continued walking forward. The Namimori downtown area was just starting to get busy with shoppers from the city itself and the outlying areas. They passed Café Court, which Tsuna hadn't been to since September, a big park that the kids sometimes came to but was closed for the winter, and a dozen shops and boutiques Tsuna had only ever been unwillingly dragged into by his mother.

Finally, Iemitsu turned into a small shop that sold signatory seals. They had plastic informal stamps with common names premade on the wall, do-it-yourself stamp-making kits on the shelves, stationary, ink pads, and a clerk stood inside at the counter to take orders for custom highly-formal seal stamps.

Tsuna was quite lost, but he still followed his father inside.

When Nana got home and learned that her husband had come and gone, taking Tsuna with him, she was silent and cheerful, and chopping vegetables with great intensity.

It was times like this that Bianchi was minutely aware of just how young she really was. She was an accomplished hitman at the age of 19, but in matters of the heart, her experience was lacking. Her first boyfriend tried to kill her, and she killed him in return. The game she played with Reborn hardly counted as a relationship. Otherwise, she had never even gone on a date. Love was a lot more complicated than she thought it was when she was a kid.

Maybe I shouldn't say anything, she thought. I might make it worse.

"Mammá," Bianchi said.

"Mmhm?"

She still couldn't bring herself to believe that Sawada Nana could be happy living like this, though. "Why do you let him treat you that way?" Nana's chopping slowed. "I heard the way he spoke to you. You deserve so much better than that."

Nana slowed, and stopped. She sighed heavily. "When I was a young woman," she started, "I looked down on other girls, the ones who wanted to marry well and be a housewife. I said, "I'm not like other girls," like that made me better than them. I didn't want to get married, I wanted to be a schoolteacher. About halfway through my program, I went on a trip to the city for a few days with some other girls, and it was there that I met Iemitsu. He saved my life, did you know that? A car came up on the sidewalk and would have certainly killed me, but then Iemitsu appeared, sweeping by faster than I could see, picking me up in his arms like I weighed nothing, and stepping to the side." She closed her eyes, smiling as she reminisced. "I remember looking into his eyes, and all the fear fell away. He asked me if I was okay, and I was speechless."

Nana's smile seemed ironic as she opened her eyes again. "What can I say? I was young, and it was love at first sight. I ended up dropping out of school so I could move back to Namimori; it was where I grew up, and where Iemitsu's father was from. Tsu-kun came not long after." She shook her head. "I must sound silly."

It sounded wonderful. Getting swept off her feet, saved by a stranger, falling in love at first sight, it was just like Bianchi's fantasies.

("What, you'll kick me out of my house?")

She felt a pang in her heart.

"I suppose that's the answer to your question," Nana said with a sigh. "Despite everything that's happened, I still love him, and I think I always will. And that's why it hurts so much." Nana rested a hand on the side of her head. "My, what am I doing? I'm so sorry, Bianchi-chan, I shouldn't be like this."

"No, it's just fine, mammá, really."

"Still, I should just be able to deal with it without bothering anybody else." As though that was healthy, or would actually fix the problem.

Bianchi was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't hear it when Nana said something. "I'm sorry, can you say that again?"

"Did Iemitsu say anything about where they were going? I was going to make soba with vegetables for lunch."

"He said something about getting a new stamp made, I think."

"A new stamp? Why would he, his is still in..." She trailed off in thought. "One moment, Bianchi-chan."

Nana hiked up her skirt and hurried upstairs, and Bianchi took over chopping vegetables. It could not have been a minute later that Nana returned, carrying a small wooden box in one hand and her phone in the other. "Must not have even tried to look for it! Iemitsu, answer your phone! Humph!" She tried Tsuna's number, a moment passed, and a muffled anime ringtone started playing from inside Tsuna's backpack. "Oh! For goodness sake, he would lose his head if it weren't attached to his shoulders."

"Tsuna or his father?"

"Either. Both. I have to run downtown or he'll waste money commissioning a new stamp."

Nana left then, leaving Bianchi alone with her thoughts.

Tsuna's dad approached the counter, and the clerk looked up. The clerk briefly glanced at Tsuna, and then did a double take at the obnoxious jacket he was wearing, but was too polite to say anything about it. The clerk looked back at Iemitsu. "How can I help you today, sir?"

"I need a new formal stamp made," Iemitsu said. He took a piece of cardstock and a pen off the counter, and wrote 'Sawada Iemitsu' in calligraphy. "It needs to be done with a certain degree of speed, understand?"

Tsuna rolled his eyes, and the clerk maintained a perfectly professional demeanor. "Of course, sir. Just one moment, please." He pulled out a small black book from beneath the counter, adjusted his glasses, and flipped to a page. "Yes, we do have a few individuals ahead of you, so we can have a jitsuin finished and ready for you in about three days. I have some price points here, if you would like a higher-end material…" The clerk pushed a brochure across the counter, and Tsuna took a glance at it. Now that he was fifteen he could get a seal registered, but then he saw the price for a seal that looked similar to his mother's, almost nine thousand yen, and made a face from sticker shock.

Iemitsu tutted, and shook his head. "I need it done significantly sooner than that; by tomorrow morning, at the latest."

"Dad…"

"I'm sorry, sir, but that just isn't possible."

Iemitsu tapped his fingers on the counter. "Understand, it is of great importance to me that this seal is finished by tomorrow." And on that, he opened his wallet and started pulling out ¥1000 notes. He counted out ¥10,000 in all, and set the bills on the counter. "If you made that happen, I would be grateful."

Tsuna's jaw dropped. Then he looked at the clerk and nearly broke out laughing. The poor man looked absolutely bewildered, looking between the money on the counter then up at Iemitsu like he had grown a second head. "S-s-sir, I don't understand, but as much as I wish I could help you, it just isn't possible."

"Really? It's not like you make all that much as a clerk, even if it's in a high-end shop like this," Iemitsu said. He pushed the cash towards the clerk. "It wouldn't take much to accommodate this request."

"Sir, there's a queue, I can't just-" The clerk cut himself off when Iemitsu place another couple notes on the counter. "What, I don't understand?"

Iemitsu was going red in the face. "Are you stupid or-"

"He's trying to bribe you!" Tsuna said when he could take it no longer. The clerk jumped, and his father glared at him. Tsuna pushed forwards anyways. He picked up the small stack of bills. "He's offering you money to put his order at the top of the list." 'You have to tell him it's a bribe or he won't know what the money is for.' Ha, maybe there was something to it after all, Tsuna thought. He shook his head. "I'm really sorry-my dad's dumb, and thinks that he can get everything he wants, even if it's wrong."

"Tsuna!" Iemitsu hissed.

"O-oh." The clerk brushed his hair out of his eyes and adjusted his glasses. "Well, ahem, if that's what it's about." He straightened, and there was still some uncertainty, but his resolve was hardened. "While I'm not sure if it's illegal or not, it would certainly be unethical. Sawada-san, putting aside the fact that it would hardly be worth losing my job over such a small sum, we have a professional reputation, one that could be put at risk if we bent to the will of a single customer. You will find that most shops in this business have similar standards. You can either have a seal ready in three days, or find somewhere else."

"Is there a reason why you're so loyal to your boss?"

The clerk bristled. "I don't need to justify myself to you. If you are not going to place an order, please leave, sir."

"Dad, please, just stop," Tsuna whined. "Why do we-hey!" he objected as Iemitsu grabbed Tsuna's shoulder, turned him around, and pushed him roughly out the door, following close behind. "Why-let go of me!" Tsuna tried to yank himself free, but Iemitsu had a strong grip on him. "Why do you even need a new seal, anyways!?"

"Because I lost the old one. What were you thinking, talking that way?" Iemitsu snapped.

What was I thinking?' What were you thinking? Ugh! "What are you talking about, it's not lost!"

"Oh? Where is it, then?" Iemitsu said, in a tone that expected that Tsuna wouldn't be able to answer.

"In the back of mom's closet, the same place it's been for the last three years!" Tsuna finally got himself free with a rough yank. He glared at his father. Tsuna rolled his shoulders, turned away, and started off down the thoroughfare. "Why're you so weird? I can't wait til you go back to Italy."

Fugushi considered himself a damn good accountant, and a pretty good gangster. He did as his superiors asked, and he was good at what he did so they only ever had to ask, not demand, and he made enough money at the age of 34 to provide for himself, his little sister and her child, and their aging parents. He was subservient, quiet, and had only once been disciplined, for an indiscretion that risked law enforcement catching wind of their more unsavory activities. That was key, don't give the police an inch.

Now Fugushi, again, an accountant, had been given orders to keep lookout on this mad scheme to try and draw the Vongola Successor into a fight. Not that he hadn't done some enforcement before he finished his degree, but this was on a whole other level. He had not spoken out, though, because he saw what happened when you did; poor Misaki didn't deserve what he got. Then a couple guys tried to walk out or run, they hadn't made it far.

The way things were going, best case scenario was the police coming down hard. Worst case scenario? Forget the Sicilians, they were small fry compared to the Vindice. Fugushi had only ever heard stories about the enforcers of the criminal underworld. He had been skeptical, anybody would be, but then a whole group of them showed up in Namimori last spring. If they were even half as bad as he had heard, Fugushi could happily live his whole life without ever meeting one face to face.

And yet, the bosses didn't seem to care. They just wanted payback for this minor slight, even if it brought everyone else down with them.

Fugushi considered himself to be a selfish person. He cared about himself, his loved ones, and his town. But as he looked down the road, saw Sawada Tsunayoshi walking down towards him without a care in the world, Fugushi saw his chance; either he went down alone, or he went down with everyone else.

He made a call, and started talking when the other end picked up without so much as a greeting. "I got eyes on the Sawada kid."

"What?! You're supposed to be on lookout!" said Fugushi's immediate superior, one of a dozen in Momokyoukai's inner circle to lose their minds.

"Yeah and he's walking down the street towards me. So you can call it on the hairbrained scheme, I'll get you your 'justice.'"

"Damn it, Fugushi! Fugushi-" and the call was ended.

A man stepped out in front of Tsuna, and there was something there that gave him pause. A hitch in the step, the square of the shoulders, a small movement, or something else beyond the five senses.

"Sorry, kid. Nothing personal; it's just business."

Tsuna took a clumsy step back, the man lunged forward and swung a knife at him and missed, shifted his weight and caught Tsuna on the backswing with a swipe that opened a ragged line on his face. One of Tsuna's hands went to his face while the other pushed the man back, nearly off his feet. Tsuna staggered back, and the large form of his father swept in front of him, grabbed the man, and dragged him in the narrow gap between two buildings.

For a few horrible moments, all Tsuna could register was that's a lot of blood, couldn't think through the pain long enough to figure out where it was coming from, and I can't see oh god my eye I can't see, but the sound of a body hitting a brick wall with tremendous force snapped him out of the hysteria long enough to realize that the cut was through his eyebrow, bleeding into his left eye but the eye was untouched. "Nnngh. What...what?" He wiped the blood out of his eye. "Dad? What're you-dad!"

Just ten feet off the road in a gap too small to be an alley, Iemitsu had Fugushi pinned against the wall a foot off the ground, one hand wrapped around Fugushi's throat so tightly that Iemitsu's knuckles were white and Fugushi clawed desperately at the hand holding him.

"Stop!" Tsuna shouted, his voice cracking. "Dad, stop! Please!" He scrambled forward and grabbed his father's arm and putting all his strength into trying to pull him away, but Iemitsu didn't even seem to notice him. There was no anger in his expression, no fear or hatred, just a grim determination. Fugushi's struggles were weakening as he started losing consciousness.

"Dad, you're gonna kill him! Let go of him! Stop!" Tsuna shouted. It sounded like an order, without him really meaning to say it that way.

Iemitsu's grip slackened. He dropped Fugushi, and Fugushi hit the ground like a dead body, limp and heavy, but then he shook and shuddered and sucked a breath in. Tsuna was surprised, but only for a moment. He wiped the blood out of his eye again, it wouldn't stop bleeding, and bent down in front of the man. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Tsuna, he just tried to kill you!" Iemitsu snapped as he started coming back to himself after acting on instinct. "Get away from him!"

"Back off!" Tsuna shot back.

Bruises in the shape of a hand were already coming up on Fugushi's neck. As Tsuna worked him upright, he suddenly twisted away and emptied his stomach contents onto the ground beside him. He coughed and spat, and cursed, "God damn shit what the fuck." His voice was rough-sounding but at least he was conscious. He pulled himself back up, squinted at Tsuna, and grimaced. "Fuck. What the hell?"

Tsuna backed off a little and looked the man up and down, but didn't recognize him. "Who are you? Why did you attack me?"

"Gggh," he groaned. This kid… "Wasn't gonna kill you, I got standards. Not like you Sicilian bastards." He inclined his head toward Iemitsu. "I'm with the Momokyoukai, but I'm just an accountant. The bosses, though, they've lost their minds, lookin' for payback. Anyone who talked back got cut down. Thought if I drew some blood, that might satisfy their 'justice.'"

"Yakuza," Iemitsu muttered, and he was already getting a phone out.

"Justice?" Tsuna said, getting that sinking feeling. "Is that the word they used? 'Justice'?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so. What, that mean something to you?"

"Yeah." Tsuna rubbed his forehead. "It's…"

Tsuna was able to dodge an explanation when Fugushi's phone started ringing. Fugushi wisely decided not to go digging in his pockets. He glanced over at Iemitsu.

"Who is it?" Iemitsu said, implying permission granted.

Fugushi tore a stitch in his pocket getting his phone out. "It's my administrator, eh, Minamimoto. If I don't answer he'll send people this way."

"Hm." Iemitsu took the phone, flipped it open, and said, "Pronto," which was how one answered the phone in Italian. "Minamimoto? Who I am isn't important. What's important is that you and your people stop before you do something you regret. I can make life really hard for you."

There was something in Iemitsu's tone that set Tsuna on edge. 'You're gonna need a hospital.' 'Take your watch off. I'm going to destroy it.' It was a condescending disregard for the person he was speaking to. Last spring it might have been meant to push Tsuna to do better, but it was the same kind of disdain. Maybe he was just a good actor, putting on a show to put his opponent off-balance.

Or, maybe, this was just the kind of person Tsuna's father really was. With all of his lies stripped away and his secrets laid bare, all that was left was his pride and a very, very good gangster.

Tsuna watched his father pull the phone away from his ear and curse under his breath. He removed the battery, SIM card, and SD card from the phone. "C'mon, Tsuna, we're going."

"What, wait, dad!"

"We're going, I have a room at the hotel down the road-" Well that explained where he was staying to avoid his wife. "-You'll stay there and I'll take care of this."

"But, dad, I-I think that I, if what I think is happening is what's happening, I can, uh, Fugushi-san, what's this plan you talked about?"

Fugushi looked surprised to be addressed so respectfully, then shrank under Iemitsu's gaze. "They're gonna attack the Kurata Building, 's'got some kind of connection to the Vongola, one of their fronts, right here in Namimori."

Somewhere in the back of Tsuna's mind, a lightbulb went off.

"Guess the bosses figured that if they attacked it, the successor would get sent to investigate, and with all the people around Sawada-kun wouldn't kick up a fuss. So they're gonna plant a bomb in the basement."

A drop of sweat rolled down Tsuna's forehead, mixing with the blood still running into his eye. "Are you sure it was the Kurata Building?"

"Yeah, I checked the info myself, found the paper trail with the connection."

Iemitsu put a hand to his chin. He knew the nature of the connection, certainly, there were three retired associates of the Family living in the building. That was pretty normal, for Vongola retirees who wanted to get out of Italy to head for Namimori, and accordingly there was no way this bomb would go off successfully. The security was much tighter than the building plans suggested. That still left the question of how a yakuza had gotten their hands on that information, Fugushi only confirmed that it was legitimate.

All that Tsuna knew was that Gokudera lived on the third floor of the Kurata Building. He pushed his father out of the way and took off running back toward downtown.

Cultural Notes

In some Asian countries including Japan, signatory seals are used where westerners would put a signature, to sign documents like, for example, adoption papers. There are several types of signatory seals which vary in their degree of formality; of these, jitsuin are the most formal, and are highly regulated by the Japanese government. Both because of this and because of the need for one's seal to be unique, they're usually commissioned from professionals.