Authors Note: Once again I bow to the genius that is Akira Amano. I also humbly offer my thanks to those that have read my other stories. I hope that you will continue to find pleasure in my simple work of words, as I have gained much pleasure from yours.

Decimo is definitively, decidedly Dangerous and Deadly.

All men dream: but not equally.

Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men,

For they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible

Lawrence of Arabia

To celebrate the decade after Sawada Tsunayoshi inherited the much-coveted position of Vongola Decimo, a lavish fête was set out by Nono himself and all the allied famiglias of the Vongola. No expense was spared in order to show the world how much they value their current family Head. The Vongola Mansion, a venerable structure that had withstood untold numbers of sieges and battles and emerged not unscathed but more stalwart is being made over, restored to enhance and rejoice in its glory and majesty. It was polished and prepared and refurbished to its most resplendent grandeur, outshining all but the most prized Palazzos in all of Italy. Everyone who was anyone in the Underworld—Bosses and Chieftains, their heirs and heir-apparent, guardians—current and past—and the various midlevel managers, section chiefs and tens of thousands of underlings received an engraved invitation for what many, in their particular slice of the world, believed to be the crème de la crème of Mafia Events since Primo's Initiation Ball.

It was a sight that would've done any red-carpet event proud complete with the fanfare of arriving limousines, private jets, chartered yachts; men in their finest evening wear and women clad in couture, dripping a king's ransom in priceless jewels —if only for a few notable exemptions: there was the veritable phalanx of tuxedo clad men—all with suspicious bulges near their shoulders and waist manning a state-of-the-art X-ray scanner invented by Spanner and Giannini that quite literally stripped you down to your very bones and verified your identify down to the level of your DNA. These same individuals scanned the embedded chip in each of the invitations handed over by the guests and allowed an army of maids waiting close by to receive the array of coats, wraps, hats and other accoutrements of the guests that they wanted out of their way during the nights festivities before each one is escorted straight up the sweeping, graceful lines of the grand staircase that led to the main ballroom in the floor above where everyone would gather.

The main ballroom where the party itself was held has been transformed into lush proportions. Gold statues, the soft strains of a world-class string quartet and an elaborately tiled, sparkling fountain greeted the guests when they emerged from the massive, ebony-carved double doors. The lack marble floor with gold inlay that lie beneath their feet shined to a mirror finish. Crimson velvet drapes dripping with gold and black tassels hung from the cathedral-high windows framing the breath-taking beauty of the Italian countryside that just lay beyond. The crimson and gold gilt wood boiserie bearing the Vongola crest were repainted, its gilded surface reworked with 24-carat gold leaf. The shimmering cascade of crystals in the wrought-iron baroque chandeliers illuminated the glittering throng of the gathered elite of the Mafia world as they toasted and feasted a decade of Vongola supremacy.

In the midst of all the talks and dancing during this celebration that the guests noticed a group of individuals sitting around a priceless walnut renaissance-style Gueridon table, crystal flutes filled with the finest red wine scattered here and there. They were all exceptional looking, clad in impeccable fashion and exuding that rarest of all commodities—charm and dark allure that riveted the eye and drew people towards them. They all wore that openly pensive smile of one who has seen both the best and worst of the world, their eyes bore the depths of men seasoned with violence and fighting.

Their combined presence kept guests flowing around them, some to pass along a compliment, some to air out intentions of good-will, others to express gratitude for remembered favors. The conversations, like the guests, the food and the wind flowed smoothly until their talks turned towards the man of the hour and each and every one of them declared that the young Decimo was a credit to his position and that they have much to thank for. A smirk emerged from lips peeking beneath the shadows of a rakishly tilted fedora as the man in question listened to the arguments around him as each and every one of the powerful men around him declared that for some reason or another they felt that SawadaTsunayoshi, Vongola Decimo was a decidedly dangerous, deadly man.

The current head of CEDEF volunteered to speak first. As the Tenth's External Advisor, Basil was the one who usually sees how one smile from Decimo could and did render hardened criminal chieftains blushing and stammering like excited school girls. It happened time and again; men known for their casual violence and less than stellar reputation would be reduced to loud, boisterous arguments about who would get the honor of sitting next to to the most powerful Boss of the Underworld. The fights normally ended when Decimo himself would decide to smile at them and offer to sit where everyone would see him. It never failed to amuse him as he watched other Dons—including some of their own men—look at Tenths face and wonder if he looked as soft and as gentle as he seemed. many of them already expressed more than once that Decimo was entirely too beautiful and that half of his negotiations ended in his favor due largely to the fact that people cannot seem to say no whenever they see his face. Many a Mafioso had tried to do more than stare of course and a brave few even made verbal suggestions of a different proposition, though none dared to do more than that. Of course if they decide to touch Decimo in less than appropriate and business-like fashion—that would be another thing entirely. No one was quite willing to court the dangers of pissing off the Storm Guardian who was quite well known for being extremely possessive (read:loud, verbose and abusive) and protective (read: of the 'I-will-bomb-you-to-kingdom-come persuasion) of his Sky.

Colonello nodded his head. The baby boss might be a truly magical being. Anyone who could look into a bloodied criminal and find the human within deserves all the loyalty and dedication anyone could muster. Just thinking of the list of men that Decimo managed to win over to his side and the sheer number of famiglias wanting to pledge allegiances should prove the point. And should anyone dare to betray Tsuna or cause him harm while his Rain or Sun guardians are anywhere near, they would have to contend with the fact that for daring such an affront they might as well have signed their own death warrant. Tsuna doesn't kill—that was true. And he doesn't approve of his guardians resorting to such an act as well. But his guardian's, despite this rule, personally hold no qualms when it was his safety that was in question. Colonello knows all too well that while Yamamoto laughs freely and welcomes everyone with easy charm, his hands never stray far from his sword and that he wouldn't hesitate to turn enemies into human sashimi if they proved to be of even the slightest risk to Tsuna. And Ryouhei's enthusiasm could rival the very sun in its intensity and bright outlook, his protectiveness of Sawada would eclipse any sense of restraint as he pommel enemies to the extreme like so much rubble.

Mamon snorted though he too agreed. Decimo had to be the most dangerous one of all Bosses—past or present. One should only take a look at how he has at his disposal everyone from the strongest man in North Italy to the infamously unpredictable Mukuro Rokudo. Any man who could control Mukuro and come out with their sanity intact and their body untouched should be hailed as demon or a god. When a man could do that and still work with the men of the Varia they really should be damned proud of themselves. Anyone who could listen to Squalo without cringing or reaching out for earplugs, accept a hug from Lussuria with enthusiasm and equanimity all while maintaining a conversation with Bel and Fran is someone with nerves of damned steel. The fact that Decimo did all of these things while sitting contentedly with Xanxus drinking next to him and waving his guns around could only be the work of a man who no one with any discernible ounce of intellect should mess with.

Dino insisted that he go next. He argued cheerfully that one only needs to look at the Decimo's Cloud Guardian to prove his point. Any man who could cause the fearsome, fiercely independent skylark to stop whatever it is he was doing with the simple mention of his first name was a formidable boss. The fact that his little brother could also do that in midst of Hibari on a rampage is even more awe-inspiring. But it was the fact that Tsuna could make Hibari laugh—okay chuckle—pat him on the head, call him Omnivore and then bow before he leaves is truly the most frightening thing he has ever seen in his life. Anyone who could do that to Hibari and live is a true beast master.

Iemitsu proudly looked on and answered that his beloved son was only dangerous because there had been rumors of many Don and many, many more Mafia Mama's who are doing all that they could to keep their daughters ( and some of their sons too) locked away in places as far from Italy and the periphery of the unattached Vongola heir as possible. And while those of them in the know are already aware that he was spoken for, there was no one else outside their circle who do. Because, as Iemitsu pointed out, the Dons were pretty sure that if ultra-eligible Vongola Decimo flashes that signature smile at any one of their daughters, they would go to war to have him in their hands.

Timoteo only nodded but argued that perhaps the reason why Decimo was so dangerous was because thus far no else in the mafia commanded the kind of respect and loyalty that the young Tsunayoshi does so effortlessly. Timoteo insists that Decimo won over men and famiglias left and right that soon there would be no one to wage war against. Even the police and the federal government couldn't touch him in fear of the blood bath such an act of aggression against the Vongola Decimo could incite. Decimo attracted followers and tamed them worse than Trident Shamal with his mosquitoes. Not to mention the fact that Tsunayoshi had three exceptional engineers, a poison expert, a medical expert, and a ranking expert all under his wing—all of whom would gladly do anything for him at his slightest behest. Should Decimo ever be tempted to solidify the Mafia world under his reign, Timoteo is certain there would be no shortage of volunteers and very little resistance.

An amused laugh startled the assembled elite and they turned as one to the former tutor and Sun Arcobaleno, waiting to see what he would say to prove their theory. Reborn simply tipped his hat a bit more and scanned the room until he could locate his former student and current boss, his smile widening a bit more, softening in some minute fashion that only a few individuals would ever even notice. When they pressed him for an answer, he simply shrugged and pointed out in an amused, self-deprecating drawl, as if they were at fault for not realizing it any sooner:

"Not a single Mafioso in this room has bothered to bring a weapon."