A Game of Betrayal

Disclaimer: I do not own KHR.

"Is it one of these two?" A short, pudgy finger hovered over the faces of two young women– a blonde and a brunette. The low, gravelly voice that accompanied it was excited, like a child about his surprise birthday present. "Women must be pretty easy to manipulate."

"We have considered that, but neither has the skills required to last very long in your game." The man beside him reported in a silky formal tone, punctuated with nasally vowels. "Since you inquired about two at the same time, you have three chances left."

"Oh phooey." The childish petulance did not match the deep, booming baritone. "I'm your boss. You should give me more chances."

"I can't, sir. You set the rules yourself, and one of which was that I can not give you any more chances no matter how much you plead."

"You're no fun."

"You said that it would not be fun if you had an unlimited number of guesses."

"Fine then. Her." His finger moved an inch to the right, just above another woman, this time with purple hair and an eye-patch. "She's a woman and has a ring. And a tough looking eye-patch."

"She is an illusionist. It would be too hard to control her."

"Hmph. Then him." He moved his finger over a young boy with wild hair. "The baby cow. He has a ring and he looks easily frightened."

"That is incorrect again, sir. Because he is too easily scared and overly spoiled, it would be impossible for him to hide any secrets– everyone would notice if he were to act differently." He then paused to add the dramatic effect that his boss loved so much. "You have one chance remaining."

A determined smile spread across the boss's thick lips– the look of a boy resolved to conquer the next level of a video game. "I will get it this time!" He brought the picture closer to his face to examine it, then closed his eyes.

His eyes flew open and his smile widened threateningly. His subordinate resisted the urge to take a step back.

"It's him isn't it. He looks perfect for the position." His finger left a shadow across the image of a dark haired young man, one arm slung around the shoulders of another man shorter than himself, the other flashing a peace sign at the camera; his eyes crinkled at the corners, laughing as if he were without a care in the world.

"As expected of you, sir. You knew from the very beginning, didn't you." It was more a statement to flatter his childish boss than a question.

"Of course. But it wouldn't be fun if I got it on the first try." He giggled, a low echo that made the hairs on the back of the other's neck stand. "Now will you tell me why exactly he, of all of the Vongola famiglia, was chosen to be my next playmate?"

The man cleared his throat before responding, trying to dislodge his instinctive fear. "Yamamoto Takeshi. Age 24. Considered one of Vongola's top two swordsmen. The Decimo's left-hand man with access to all but the most classified files. Has a single father– previously a freelance hitman before settling down in a peaceful town with his family. Whereabouts of mother unknown– presumed dead. Strong filial bond with father. Normally inexpressive of his feelings, instead hiding behind a smile. Seems simple minded but has a good intuition. Shall I go on?"

"I think I've got it: he has the Decimo's trust, can lie, and we will have leverage over him if we capture his father." His eyes darkened with pleasure. "Oh how I love a good game of betrayal!"

Chapter 1: Setting Up the Game Board

As soon as he ended the call, Yamamoto Takeshi ran. He ran out of his room, past Tsuna's grand office, down the curving staircase, and toward the open field in the back of the Vongola mansion, where the private jets were held in a hangar. By the time he arrived, he was panting heavily, having sprinted full speed the whole way. He took a few deep breaths– partially to even out his breathing, partially to clear his head of his rampaging thoughts– then set out the find the next available pilot who could take him back to Japan.

After wandering around the hangar for nearly five minutes, he finally bumped into who he was looking for. "Yo, Inoue!" he called out.

Inoue looked up from the plane he was polishing. "Hi there, Yamamoto-san! Need to go somewhere?"

"Yep! Back to Namimori!" Yamamoto smiled, repressing the anxiety he was feeling. "Soon as possible."

"Sure thing! But Irie-san said that he needed to examine all of the flame-fuel jets, so all that are left are the old combustion engine planes." Inoue started toward the back of the hangar, where the old models and prototypes were kept, and Yamamoto followed. They stopped in front of a plane with wide, broad wings and tail and a compact body. "Hm, this might do."

Yamamoto looked over the aircraft. He didn't know much about planes, but he trusted Inoue's judgement. Ever since he had saved the young pilot from an accident on the day of his pilot license testing three years ago, Inoue Tamaguchi had dedicated his life as well as his passion and knowledge of flying to the Vongola family. If Inoue said the plane was good, the plane was good. "So how long will it take, do you think?"

"At full throttle, upwards 10 hours?" Inoue walked around to the other side of the plane to examine the fuel levels. His mouth broke into a wide grin. "Sweet! Nevermind the previous estimate– I thought they had trashed all of the prototypes, but I guess they left this one intact!" Upon seeing Yamamoto's confusion, he quickly added, "A flame-fuel converter. With this baby, even if it's just a prototype, it will only take 7-8 hours. No, with your flames as an added boost, it will only be 6 hours tops."

Yamamoto didn't really understand– he guessed that it was something like the motorbikes from the other future– but he nodded and grinned back at the enthusiastic aviator. As long as it took him to Japan quickly, it was fine. "Sounds good. When will you be ready?"

"Five minutes," was the fading reply, as the other disappeared to finish preparations.

Sawada Tsunayoshi sat in his office, sipping at his coffee while staring at the mounds of papers in front of him, fighting off the mid-day sleepiness. He thought he had heard pounding footsteps from outside his door earlier, but quickly dismissed them as insignificant– most likely just Lambo storming into the kitchen looking for comfort food after a tutoring session with his new tutor or Ryohei on his way to an early afternoon workout.

When his office phone rang, he absent-mindedly picked it up, still envying the freedom of his Guardians to scurry about, free of paperwork.

"Yo, Tsuna!"

"Yamamoto?" He thought his Rain Guardian was still in his room looking over his next mission assignment. So why was he calling when his room was only a few doors down? And was that a hint of anxiety in his normally calm friend's voice?

"Tsuna, I know this is sudden, but I'm headed toward Namimori right now."

Tsuna shook his head to clear the fluffy wool of sleep from his mind. "Namimori? Why?"

"I got a call from an old neighbor, saying that he heard an explosion at my old man's place. When he went to check it out, my dad wasn't there. I don't know much more than that, but I have a bad feeling about this…" the voice trailed off into uncharacteristic silence. "Either way, Hibari-san will probably update you when he finds out more. For now, I'm heading over to check things out."

Tsuna snapped awake– attack? In Namimori? Was Yamamoto-san ok? What about his mother? How did they get past Hibari's sentinel? When will he stop thinking in questions? He shook his head again, his hair stinging his eyes when they met. Finally focused, he said, "Mm, I understand. You should go check on your dad."

"Thanks, Tsuna." There was a pause, as if Yamamoto was about to hang up. "Oh yeah, and sorry about that other mission. The files are still in my room if you need them."

Ever his reliable Rain. At least, reliable about serious business– he would still fool around like a kid with the other Guardians. "Don't worry about it. I'll send Onii-san out instead. He's been bored with the lack of missions lately."

"Haha, sounds like Ryohei alright! Oh, looks like I've gotta go now. Bye Tsuna!"

"Take care!" Tsuna managed to say before the line clicked, cutting of their connection.

Immediately after he had returned the phone to its cradle, it rang again. He considered just letting it ring for a while just out of spite– a harmless way to take out the pent-up anger and frustration from his paperwork– but realizing that he was expecting a call from Hibari, he quickly picked up.

"Hel–"

"Where's the herbivore?"

Tsuna sighed. He should have been used to getting cut off by his impatient Cloud Guardian by then, but it was exasperating nonetheless. "Yamamoto? He just left for Namimori."

"Hmph. When will he get here?"

"Umm… if he took the newest model of the flame-fuel jet Shoichi-kun and–"

"Get to the point."

"Yeah, um, 3 to 4 hours?"

"Fine."

And the line went dead. HIIEEE? Was that it? Tsuna still sometimes felt that Hibari was his boss, not the other way around, with the way their conversations carried out. But he held his breath and quickly redialed.

"What." Hibari snapped, sounding even more irritable than before.

Tsuna exhaled, letting the flames flow through him, sharpening the world around him, and put on his most serious tone. "What happened?"

There was a pause, as if Hibari was considering whether the question was worth an answer. He must have hear the deep timbre in his boss's voice, for he didn't immediately hang up. After a few thoughtful moments, he replied, "There was an explosion at the sushi shop, Takesushi. When we went to investigate, the elder Yamamoto was gone. The explosions seem to have been caused by Storm flame-infused dynamite. A note was taped to the refrigerator."

Tsuna waited for Hibari to continue, his head spinning with the implications.

"It was a ransom note. 12 hours from now at the Fish House. Alone."

Hibari was too proud to ask for instructions, but Tsuna still heard the silent inquiry: Should he intervene?

"See how Yamamoto responds. I entrust this situation to him." He paused, twiddling the phone cord. "But maybe watch from the distance if he needs backup."

Having sensed that Tsuna was done with him, Hibari hung up, leaving Tsuna to his thoughts. It wasn't just Yamamoto who was picking up uneasy vibes; Tsuna also felt prickles of worry down his spine. Hibari's presence in Namimori offered a strange comfort, but he knew if he was to entrust anyone to handle the situation, it would be Yamamoto. His good friend and faithful Guardian, Yamamoto Takeshi.

"The game has been set up, sir."

"Oh goody. Can we play now?"

"We have to wait until the other player arrives."

"Harumph. But I'm bored now."

The man stiffened. "Y-Yes, sir. Then we shall provide a little side quest."

"Yippee!" The boss clapped giddily. "Who am I versing?"

"A very strong man with a one track mind."

"What's the objective? And the rules? Are there any rules?"

"Of course, sir. You are to set up the field in a manner that will keep the other player distracted for an hour. The time limit is eleven hours to plan and execute. You are also limited to whatever supplies can be found in our base or in the town of Namimori."

"Oh… a strategy game. But those hurt my head."

"Just bear with it, sir. If you succeed, you will be able to have more fun with your other playmate."

"Really? I guess I'll have to think a little, then. Just an hour, you said?"

"Yes, sir."

A/N: I know, nothing much happened. More will happen next chapter and beyond, so just think of this as a prologue if it makes you feel any better.

Any and all questions and/or suggestions, whether for plot, characterization, grammar, etc. are welcome. Comments are nice too :)

Next chapter will be more Yamamoto-centric.