AN: Hello! It's been ages. I thought, because I have so many ideas that I like, but cba to write into ongoing, multi chapter stories, I have have a series of drabbles instead. Here is the very fun Time Travel AU. Or, in which Tsuna is Giotto's bastard child.

Vongola Decimo or 'Neo Vongola Primo' as he was often referred to behind his back, had to deal with many, many things as part of his legacy of being Primo's heir. Constant comparisons were made between the first and latest bosses – in appearance, fighting style, demeanour or guardians; the latter was generally described as some sort of 'second coming' of the first boss of Vongola. Ushering in an era of peace and prosperity, more 'vigilante' than 'mafia'.

It seemed as if the first and tenth generation of Vongola would always be interlinked, mirror images of each other, bound by an odd sort of fate.

So when Spanner's and Shoichi's research into Primo's era blew up on him – and the Vongola boss couldn't wait until Giannini stopped making such disastrous mistakes –Tsuna felt a weird sense of inevitability as he hurled through time once more.

He landed harshly upon familiar marble flooring, and at first glance he could tell that the Mansion that he had come to know as home suddenly lacked the feeling of antiquity that it had not even a moment ago. Hell, even the Italian that broke out at his arrival was had the archaic quality that Tsuna had only ever found in Basil's formal demeanour.

It wasn't until a snippet of the actual conversations caught his ear that Tsuna felt a very strong, foreboding chill.

There was a muttered, "Giotto?"

"He looks like Boss' cousin."

"Idiot, Giotto was blonde."

"A son? Do you think he's here to fight for the leadership?"

And all of a sudden, the atmosphere plummeted. Oh no, please no.

Glancing up fearfully, Tsuna's gaze went straight past the group of agitated Mafioso to be caught the glare of dark, red eyes.

I hate my life.

Looking astonishingly alike to Xanxus – albeit older and without scars – lay Vongola Secondo in all his terrible glory. By the faint glow and shimmer in the air, he was mere moments away from summoning his fabled flames of Wrath.

Dear god, Tsuna pleaded. Kill me now.

And so the voice of the devil spoke.

"And who are you?"

Tsuna could even hear the implied scum that graced the end of the sentence.

Giannini was dead, so, so dead.