-A Strange Affair-

~disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or the original plot for this story…they belong to Amano Akira-sama and Emotive Gothika, respectively.

~summary: Semi-AU. TYL. Being Vongola Decimo means that Tsuna is prepared for everything…or so he thought before this happened. Written for Emotive Gothika's 1827 challenge.

~random notes(?): I haven't posted for this fandom in a long while. Heck, even my Vampire Knight fanfics haven't been updated yet, all thanks to me being a lazy-ass writer. XD But, but…! Before you guys nag me for not updating my KHR stuff, I must point out that I got a valid excuse. All of my written chapters went kaput, so there. It's not exactly easy to re-write them, so yeah. XD;; Anyways, I decided to accept Emo-chan's challenge in an attempt to revive my KHR muses. So…please enjoy, I guess?

Prologue: He Arrives

For the nth time that morning, the raven-haired young man ran his hand through his dark hair in an attempt to straighten out the few strands that seem to spike out naturally. His pale hand then went to the necktie he wore; readjusting its tightness on his neck. A frown ghosted his features, however, as it became a bit to loose for his liking.

This behavior of his did not go unnoticed by his mother. The woman walked up behind her son and placed her hands on his shoulders in a comforting manner. Two pairs of silver-blue eyes reflected on the mirror met each other, and for a few moments held each other's gaze. It was the woman who broke the eye contact first. Her thin lips then broke into a smile; a light giggle erupting from her throat. "Mou, don't worry Kyou-chan, you look absolutely stunning! I bet he would fall head over heels when he sees you."

The young man seemed not to agree with his mother's words, though. Instead, his frown deepened even more; turning it into a faint scowl. "That, mother dear, is a mistake." He replied. "I am merely doing this out of duty; do not get me wrong." As much as he'd hate to admit it, he is feeling rather antsy with regards to the idea of him meeting his soon-to-be fiancé. From what he had seen and read in the files about him, he figured that the other is an interesting specimen. To put it simply, he intrigued him. A smirk formed on his lips as he turned towards the door to leave. This better be worth his while.

- x -

Tsuna let out a frustrated sigh as the mountains of paperwork never seem to lessen. In fact, it looks as if it had increased even more. Well, he wouldn't have really minded it all that much if paperwork was the only thing involved. He might have actually jumped for joy if that was the case, which, unfortunately, isn't. You see, a certain fedora-wearing hitman suggested that he should have some one-on-one talks with his subordinates. After all, Reborn stressed that a boss should listen to his subjects' grievances and what-not so as to ensure that the relationship between them would run smoothly. And of course, Tsuna had to agree of all things.

At first, things turned out to be okay, and he actually found it rather enjoyable. But as time passed…well, let's just say that the one who said that first impressions last was totally wrong. As his sessions continued, he noticed that the reasons for his subordinates to seek his audience had changed from serious to…not-so-serious ones. Correction. They had gone from serious to completely absurd. A great example would be that one time Mukuro had come to him with an injured finger (which he suspects was self-inflicted) telling Tsuna to 'kiss his boo-boo to make it better'.

The mafia boss' eye twitched at the memory; his hand clenching around the pencil he held a bit too hard, causing it to break in half. Oh well, in to the bin where it'll be joining the rest of its fallen comrades. Grabbing a new pencil from his drawer, Tsuna was about to resume his work when a sudden knock on his door caught his attention. Must be another one of his subordinates. Almost grudgingly, he answered. "Come in."

To his surpise, a young man with raven locks he had never seen before stepped in. Closer and closer, the stranger walked until he was practically face to face with him. "Who are—" The rest of his words were soon cut off as a hand reached up to his chin; tilting his face upwards to meet silver-blue eyes. The man then spoke; his voice a soothing tenor. "I'm making you mine."