I am not Akira Amano, so I do not own KHR.

It's a good feeling to write fan fiction again. If anyone asks why I was away from updating, I'd answer 'you try maintaining a scholarship in college…'

Regardless, I was really planning to update another story of mine before I worked on this, but lately any and all stimuli I needed to make that first story flow faster has stopped. And the plotline for this particular chapter has already been planned out, along with 'the signs' telling me to update this chapter…'signs' i.e. a show on Discovery Channel called 'Ten Commandments of the Mafia'. If you didn't guess yet, yes I'll be referencing that.

"Giotto's dialogue contains regular quotations and bolded and italicized letters much like this sentence."

"Italian dialogue will be typed in this format."

Trial by Dying Will Flame, Chapter VII:

Revelation

In the Sicilian countryside, a local farmer was tending to his crop, quite satisfied with the day's work. He roped up his horse and tied him to a cart, preparing to transport is harvest home before shipping them to the local market. It was dusk now, the sun just barely visible in the darkening blanket of the sky. Yet, he was not scared…no, the word 'scared' or anything of the sort was forever discarded from the vocabulary of the people of this countryside.

The farmer rounded a corner onto a well-worn, beaten path and looked up, setting his eyes upon a gigantic, castle-like villa in the mountainside. The uppermost floor of the villa was the only part visible, and small wisps of smoke were seen trailing from the chimneys. He looked away, smiling. It seemed like a distant memory now, but there was a time that tending to the crops up until dusk was considered suicide because of the financially deprived and desperate bandits all over the hills would feast on a lonely farmer like wolves on a carcass. But now, whoever was living in that large castle kept the dirt paths safe. It was the people living there that kept the markets fair in pricing, the technological help that the local doctors needed at their beck and call, and generally, kept everyone fair and equal.

He pondered for a moment, and remembered that he really didn't know a lot about the people there. All he knew was that they helped them with every little thing in their lives, and all they asked for was absolute privacy…

…that and the fact that the most recurring name whenever the people in the mountainside villa were concerned was 'Vongola'.

It was a solemn march back into the still standing Vongola estate. Those who were still able to stand were doing one of three things: hauling a stretcher, helping a not so fortunate comrade, or lugging the confiscated weaponry of the defeated Famiglia. As was the saying: 'To the victor go the spoils' although, in a Famiglia not as lenient and pacifistic as the Vongola, 'spoils' would mean the honor of destroying every trace of the defeated. The fallen of their comrades, in a sign of respect and mourning, had been placed side by side, about a foot apart. A couple of Mafiosi had been cleaning their visible wounds, while draping them over with individual black velvet blankets, each with an embroidered Vongola insignia.

Within this silent crowd, those who still required medical attention were to wait in the gardens, their temporary medical camp, as the inside of the estate was undergoing damage control. Guido was one of those requiring attention, as he had busted up two ribs, survived two grazed bullets over his left forearm, and hastily wrapped a tight cloth over a bleeding ricochet wound on his ankle.

As he was being tended to, Guido was able to pick up strains of conversation between his companions, also healing their recently tended to wounds.

"It was a miracle that we survived all that…" One was saying, cradling his dislocated right arm. "Though, I'll be out of combat for a month with this…"

"T'was thanks to the Don for our victory, my friend." Another of their more eloquent comrades replied, grinning. "An angel of fire, that's what Don Decimo reminded me of when he flew over the enemies like that."

"Aye…that he was…" The first agreed, nodding with a reminiscent look in his eye. "With the Decimo's rise to power, La Famiglia Vongola will be at its peak of excellence! Never again will we have to live through a day of this!"

His exclamation was met with roaring applause and approval, of which Guido was a part of. To them, the Boss was their warrior-king. To them, the strength of the Family depended on the strength of the Boss. As such, seeing the power that they presumed Tsuna exerted almost assured them that Timoteo made the right choice in the young man. Before they saw him in action, there was doubt on whether the young Japanese boy would succeed their 9th Don so well, as the Mafia Code stated that only those with pure Italian blood can succeed.

At least now, their doubts have been for naught.

Or so they think…

"Amelia, please take the other Guardians to their respective rooms. I require a moment with Tsunayoshi."

"Of course, Don Timoteo..."

The former continued down the hall with a content looking Hibari, a battered, bruised but smiling Ryohei, a sleeping Lambo and an exhausted Yamamoto, while the latter stopped and turned down the hall, with Tsuna in tow. As the two groups split, Gokudera stood still and looked on at his boss and his boss' predecessor.

Both the Vongola bosses turned and looked at the silver haired guardian. "You may come with us, Gokudera," Timoteo stated knowingly. "Since you already know of what happened to Tsunayoshi…"

Gokudera nodded curtly, before striding up to Tsuna's side like the loyal sotto cappo that he seeks to become. His boss, on the other hand, looked stoic and distant. His amber eyes looked dim, as if there was nothing behind them; his stance was gloomy, dragging his feet a little on the carpeting. He kept his focus on the corridor in front of him, ignoring Gokudera giving him worried looks.

The trio stopped in front of a miraculously untouched conference room and entered. The room was cozy, yet ominous all at once. An ornate plush orange wingback chair stood at the head of an oval varnished white oak table. Dotted on either side of this were less ornate black armchairs, three each.

"Have a seat, both of you."

The two young men did as they were told, as Don Timoteo took his seat (as expected) on the plush orange armchair. A moment after everyone was seated; a wisp of orange flame appeared nearby Tsuna's side and hovered next to his head. The amber-eyed brunet did not even flinch, and continued to stare down at the table's surface, dully admiring the intricate collection of lines and whorls. Silence reigned over the trio for a while before Timoteo cleared his throat.

"Tsunayoshi, I know you are in quite a shock but I'm sure Gokudera will agree with me that your silence is frightening for the both of us."

Tsuna perked up, surprise in his eyes. "Hmm?" he said at last, before looking down apologetically. "Ah, sorry."

"Don't be, Juudaime…" Gokudera assured him, patting his boss' back.

Timoteo adjusted in his seat, placing his elbows on the varnished wood and rested his head in his hands solemnly, casting a strong, yet soothing stare at his successor. "Now, Tsunayoshi…what had occurred during the battle against La Famiglia de Ophilanwas the result of the Ignition Ritual…and can very well happen again in the near future."

Tsuna's expression turned to shock when he heard the tail end of Timoteo's sentence. "What?"

Gokudera growled and slammed his fist into the table, casting a protective hand over Tsuna's shoulders. "You mean to tell me that you've turned Juudaime into the Primo's personal puppet!?"

Tsuna started shivering at that thought, his rather vivid imagination giving him glimpses of himself ending numerous lives with a demented smile on his face. 'No, please no…please don't tell me that that's true!'

As if on cue, he heard Giotto's voice coming from the vicinity of the flame, coming just a few inches away from his ear. 'It is not. It is the reverse actually…'

"Reverse? What do you mean…?" He asked the flame, earning a confused look from his Storm Guardian.

"What're you taking about…?" Gokudera asked, cocking a brow at his boss.

"Didn't you hear Giotto-san say that?"

"I didn't hear anything…"

"Gokudera wouldn't be able to hear anything from the flame, Tsunayoshi." Timoteo butted in matter-of-factly. "Only those of his bloodline can hear Don Giotto speak when he is in his flame form."

"About that…" Tsuna perked up, curiously glancing at the flame. "Giotto-san said that the reverse of what Gokudera-kun said was true. What did he mean…?"

"He meant what he meant, Tsunayoshi. The puppet here is actually Don Giotto. The Ignition Ritual instills a small portion of Don Giotto's eternally burning Dying Will Flame into the succeeding boss, and if Don Giotto deems the successor worthy, even though Don Giotto's spirit leaves during the next Ignition Ritual, the ember of flame remains at the beck and call of the Boss. During the Trial process, Don Giotto, along with the flame, can only gain full control of your body if and only if you allow it, Tsunayoshi my boy. As such, Don Giotto is at your full disposal."

Tsuna listened blankly, not understanding a word of what the Ninth Don was saying. "So…what you mean to say is…"

'Until I pass my judgment and the trial is complete,'Giotto surmised.'I, my knowledge, my Mafiosi expertise and the full extent of my abilities are at your command, Decimo.'

"Nani?!" Tsuna exclaimed, scared out of his wits.

Hearing the news, Gokudera's expression turned from suspicious to ecstatic. "If it's like that then congratulations, Juudaime! With Don Primo's powers, you'll be the most powerful boss in history!"

Suddenly, Tsuna got the feeling that Giotto was glaring at Gokudera. He turned to the flame, and sure enough, the flame was flickering, sending off embers.

"A-ano, Gokudera-kun…I think you just made Giotto-san angry…"

Gokudera didn't hear a word of it though, as he was lost in thought, a dreamy look in his emerald eyes. "Juudaime…the most powerful Mafia Boss in the world…and I as his most trusted right hand…" He rambled, out of it completely. Unbeknownst to them, it was at this that Timoteo slipped out of his seat and left the room, taking one last look at the two boys before closing the door.

Shrugging, Tsuna shrank back into his seat, pondering the thought. Though tempting, he really did not want to be in control of something, particularly something with a lot of power. As always, the root of this is the days he spent as Dame-Tsuna, which as far as he is concerned is not over, and his inability to lead. The thought of failure was all too overwhelming for him, and the dread of the people looking to him for advice was too much. This was the underlying reason why he still refused to be a Boss.

He heard a soft chuckle nearby him. Turning to the direction of the laugh, Tsuna noticed the flame had stopped flickering, and was bobbing up and down once again. 'You fear power, Decimo?' Giotto inquired. 'Understandable for one so young…'

Tsuna didn't reply, shocked. Could it be that Giotto could hear his thoughts?

'I ask forgiveness of my intrusion into your private thoughts, Decimo.'

"Ah, no…" Tsuna assured the flame, waving his hands in front of him. "J-just don't catch me off guard like that…"

The flame floated closer to Tsuna's face, causing discomfort in the young man. The flames emanating from the ember began to radiate heat, sending beads of sweat down Tsuna's forehead. "A-ano…"

'You're quite…submissive for one who is to be a Boss…'

"I already told you! I don't want to be a Boss!" Tsuna protested, laying his head on the table in defeated frustration. Burying his head in his arms, Tsuna let out a sigh and closed his eyes. 'All this happened because I'm related to you…' He thought grimly. 'If I wasn't, I probably would not have to be thrust into this ridiculously crazy world of the Mafia…I wouldn't have to have my friends be in danger all the time…I wouldn't have people I barely know want to kill me…'

As Tsuna lamented his woes, the flame drifted away from the brunet, and chose to float around in the center of the table. 'So similar…' Giotto thought.'It is quite unnerving…'

"Juudaime, where did the Kyuudaime go?"

Tsuna looked up at Gokudera's question. Sure enough, Timoteo was gone. "I don't know…" He replied.

'Decimo…it is late.' Giotto said sternly. 'Retire to your rooms, the both of you.'

With that said, the small flame that was Giotto disappeared. "Gokudera-kun, Giotto-san said that we should go to our rooms now."

The silver-haired Guardian nodded earnestly. "Of course, Juudaime."

As they exited the room (Gokudera went out first and held the door open) Tsuna found himself mulling over the previous events of the day with more lament than before. 'Why can't I go back to my normal life again…?'

The two friends walked in silence, up one corridor, then down another with Gokudera leading the way. Tsuna wasn't paying attention to the scenery, although he should have since they had just passed a portrait of Don Vongola Secondo for the third time in five minutes.

"Juudaime, do you know where the rooms are?" Gokudera asked suddenly. "I think we're lost."

Tsuna looked at his surroundings. 'Oh no…we're lost…' He thought grimly. He couldn't tell the difference between one set of halls from another.

Then, for the strangest reason, he felt as if he was beginning to float, though he could see that his feet were firmly on the ground. 'Decimo, if you will allow me…' He heard Giotto say, as he felt a warming sensation in his chest, directly over his heart. 'I shall guide you both to your rooms.'

Too surprised to think, Tsuna just nodded before the warming sensation spread throughout his whole body. Afterwards, he felt his legs move on their own, striding down the left hand corridor.

"Follow me." He heard himself say to Gokudera, who hadn't noticed any change and followed without question.

Upon reaching the rooms, both the floating feeling and the warming sensation ended as Giotto lifted his control over his successor. Tsuna unconsciously bent over, as if he was dropped from a short height, and unlike the beginning of the strange experience, Gokudera noticed the reaction.

"Are you alright?" He asked, scanning his friend over with concerned emerald eyes.

Tsuna nodded quickly, not wanting to explain what happened, perhaps worrying his silver-haired friend. "Good night, Gokudera-kun."

The brunet Mafiosi trainee closed the door as soon as he ducked his head in and leaned against the sturdy oak door, letting out a sigh of relief.

His mood brightening at the sight of his quarters, Tsuna lazily dropped himself into the elegant four-poster bed, letting out a loud, relaxed grunt as his chest collided with the goose down mattress. "What a bed…" He commented, rolling onto his back and spreading his arms, relishing the softness of the covers. "I could get used to this…"

Giotto's flame appeared nearby the upper right post, casting a warm orange glow over the backdrop of handsome mahogany backboard and dark orange curtains. "You should expect more upon your succession of the seat of power, Decimo; 'Tis a slum dwelling compared to the luxury that the Boss is served."

Giotto's conversant didn't reply, instead getting off the bed and reaching for his luggage, intent on changing out of his current attire. Whilst Tsuna busied himself, the blond spirit watched him wordlessly.

Timoteo was right. This boy, destined to be the Boss, was far too young as far as the past Bosses were concerned, yet there was something about the young Tenth that none of the other Bosses ever had. 'His flame,' Giotto told himself. 'Is by far the calmest, brightest flame I have ever come across…'

This little factor intrigued Giotto the most because the only flame that can compare to the quality of Tsuna's flame was his very own.

'Although all the Vongola Bosses possess the same Attribute flame, each flame and how it burns is individual to every person.' Giotto told himself, reciting what he had discovered in his four hundred years of Mafiosi experience.

'Some flames burn bright, but soft; others dim, but violent. Some are so violent, that they take on a life of their own; others will only burn the brightest when surrounded by other flames; still others can and will burn all alone, extinguished when in a crowd…'

The flame drifted off as Tsuna returned, dressed in pale blue pajamas (though without his knowledge, Reborn was able to attach a small patch on the pocket that bore the Vongola crest) and yawning.

'I wish thee a pleasant slumber, Decimo.' He greeted, before dimming himself into a tiny little tongue of flame, as if it was coming from an invisible, floating candle.

The Mafioso-to-be pulled back the comforters and settled in, but instead of sleeping, raised his head from the plush cushions. "Ano ne, Giotto-san…?" He asked the tiny flame, cautious curiosity in his amber eyes.

The flame grew to a fist's size and wandered closer to the young boy, a few embers flying off as if the flame was casually raising a brow. "You inquire something of me at this time? Do you not require sleep?"

Tsuna propped himself into a seated position. "Not at the moment, actually…" He replied, before looking down, deep in thought. "I…" He began, stopping himself afterward.

The flame lowered itself into the foot of the bed, and seemingly rested on the plush comforter. "You needn't fear me, Decimo. My knowledge is to be at your full disposal."

Tsuna nodded in reply, braver and calmer now. As since he would be stuck with him for who knows how long, might as well get used to him being around. "I want to know a few things about you and the Vongola. Answer my questions, please."

The flame quietly grew larger and brighter, causing Tsuna to flinch back in surprise. Once the brightness had dimmed, the flame had disappeared and in its place the blond Mafia Boss sat on the corner of the bed, his ever-solemn golden eyes resting on his successor. "Of course." He replied, raising his hand to his chest in a respectful manner.

Tsuna paused before he spoke. Yes he was braver and calmer now, but still. As since he was in this position now, he wanted to know the story of the Vongola, as there were far too many questions bouncing around in his head, even more so after the events of the day. However, it was quite intimidating to ask the very founder of the Vongola about his (would it be considered past?) life. He took his time, wording his next sentence carefully.

"How old were you when you first became the Vongola Boss?" He blurted out finally, reflexively bracing for verbal reprise.

His ethereal conversant blinked awkwardly for a moment. Taken by surprise by the out-of-the-blue question, there was a pause before he replied. "You ask the age of my ascension?" He finally asked in reply, before letting out a small scoff. "I had but reached the age of twenty-four when I headed the Vongola."

The brunet boy nodded. 'Twenty four…' He repeated mentally. "So young…?"

"You may be astonished, but in my time you could be considered an old man by the age of forty." Giotto countered, casting a regal shrug of his shoulders at Tsuna.

Tsuna nodded in thanks for Giotto's answer. At least now one question was quelled, but another yearned for an answer.

"Were you always a member of the Mafia…?"

Although the question was simple and neutral, it caused Giotto to chuckle softly. "Hm, hm, hm…would you believe I was a member of the Law Enforcement before I was a Boss?"

"Nani?!"

"Don't believe me if you wish, but it is true. I was an officer of the law, a private investigator to be precise. In fact, my most important mission was to actually bring down the Mafia, or to be more precise, I was to bring down the ruling family of the day. But instead it had lured me in and made me one of its own, as what had happened to you, I have been told."

"Well then, what happened?" Tsuna blurted out. "How did you end up being the Boss of the one thing you were supposed to destroy?"

But as soon as the words were said, Tsuna wished he could take them back. The look in Giotto's golden eyes was too much. Though the facial features were passive, his eyes, which always looked like they shielded a blazing fire, had dimmed dramatically, like the flame behind was extinguished. Giotto looked away, letting out a sigh as he did so. "What you ask of me is a sensitive subject, Decimo. I beg of you that you need not my answer urgently."

"I'm sorry." The brunet said hastily, bowing his head. "I shouldn't have said that."

The blond Boss placed his ghostly hand on his Heir's shoulder and cast him a small, knowing smile. "Do not be in guilt for your inquiry Decimo. It is your right to know of your heritage. But forgive me, for I cannot tell you the answer this night."

His form erupted into flames, choosing to shrink into his flame form again. "I ask thee to rest now, young Decimo. Your injuries need to heal." And with that, the ember disappeared, leaving Tsuna to his sleep.

It was sunset. An orange hue enveloped the entire countryside, the grass, the mountain range, the estate…

Her angelic, porcelain-like skin, her alluring yet gentle brown eyes, her elegant orange-tinted white gown, her ruby red lips…

Two forms were lying together on a grassy, flower-sprinkled hilltop overlooking the Sicilian countryside. The two, a man and a woman, were laughing together, the latter carrying a bouquet of white roses.

"It's beautiful here isn't it?" The man asked, leaning back into the dew-covered grass, letting out a long sigh of relief. "Ah, the bliss we could have…to lie here, untroubled by the hassles of life..."

The woman adjusted her dress before leaning over the man. Her long, curly, amber brown hair fell over her shoulders, tickling her companion's nose. "What do you want in this world?" She asked him, raising her brows.

"What do I want?" The man replied with a casual smile, one that reached his eyes, giving them a bright, sparkling glow. "I am but a man, and man's desires are as vast as the enveloping sky: fame, fortune, all that and more, my lady."

The lady lay down beside him, letting her hair fall across his chest as she cuddled closer to him, casting an arm over his chest. "You misunderstand me, my most loyal of caporégime…"

The man then raised his head to turn to his Lady Boss, his golden eyes wide with curiosity. "I beg your pardon, my lady…?"

"What do you want in this world…?" She asked again, looking back at him. Their eyes, one pair of bright gold, the other scorched amber, locked focus. And with that one look, they conveyed a lot more than words could ever hope to. The man looked a little shocked for some reason. He sat up and adjusted the suit he was wearing. "My lady…" He began, his gaze shifting. He began stammering slightly, as if finding the words. His companion, in contrast, simply cast a dainty hand on his shoulder, and immediately, he stopped.

"I sense nothing hostile from you, my capo, regardless of your intentions when you came. I also sense that you and I are alike…"

She cast him a smile, warming both his heart and his eyes, rekindling the blazing fire that the latter shielded.

"…We, like the Sky, envelop all and accept all, without grudge, bias or prejudice. Because I am like the Sky, I accepted you, knowing who you truly are…and you, like the Sky, came to accept my world, though you come from a place far, far different."

The wind began blowing, buffeting the two on the hill, though it did not bother them. The sun began to disappear into the horizon, the shadows of the night creeping over the two of them. Though, there was something strange. The darkness seemed a little too dark…as if the darkness was alive…consuming everything. Before long, everything…her dress, her hair, her face…everything was consumed by the darkness.

It was from within this darkness that the man's voice resonated. Even this echo was gravely weighted down by despair and lamentation.

"Xierra, il mio tesoro, mi perdona per favore…"

As rapidly as the darkness invaded, they withdrew, and within their wake a blazing, roaring inferno took their place. Miles upon miles of fire lit up the horizon, the hillsides alight with burning fury…

Within this scorched hillside, the man began to run. Panicked, he stumbled through burning flowers and barren earth until he tripped upon an exposed stone, its rounded shape and rectangular base giving it the foreboding guise of a grave marker…

Still on his knees, he hurried to his feet and stumbled further away from the tombstone rock, looking over his shoulder in panic. His gaze was met with a large burst of flame which almost met dead on with his face, had he not ducked the moment it was about to collide.

Where he was looking at, a black silhouette had emerged from the inferno, its eyes bloodshot and narrowed with unadulterated anger. It raised its right hand, and without warning burst into a piercingly white-orange…could it be considered a flame? It didn't have any characteristics of a burning ember. It was as if the other's raw emotion was condensed into a vastly growing ball of energy.

The burning hand was extended to the fleeing man's direction, and with almost laser-like action, a concentrated burst of that energy shot out, and hit the path ahead of him. The man recoiled in shock, before tripping again and falling down to the scorched earth, facing the silhouette.

"Un giorno la troverò…" Said a voice coming from the silhouette, it voice quivering, like the dancing flames surrounding the source. "Un giorno la troverò…e lei pagherà il suo tradimento!"

His terrified conversant could not reply, but instead balled his fists, which burst into flame as well. Unlike the silhouette's hand though, this flame was the one true example of a burning wisp: bright, radiant and deep orange, with embers flying off of the main body. Opening his palms downward, the man's hands let out two powerful streams of flame, propelling him into the sky.

The silhouette watched with mixed shock and rising anger as the other flew away. Narrowed eyes shrunk to slits and thin, pale lips parted as he raised his head to the orange, enveloping sky.

"Vongola, lei il traditore!!!"

A scream of terror was the first thing out of Tsuna's mouth as he awoke that day. Drenched in cold sweat, panting as if he had just ran ten miles nonstop, the young brunet clutched his head in his hands, trying to shake the horrifying image of the silhouette in flames out of his mind.

Hurried footsteps sounded and Gokudera burst through the oak doors in a flash, no mean feat considering he was still limping from the bullet wound in his leg. "Juudaime!" He called out, in equally scared panic for his friend and Boss. "Is there anything wrong??"

After a few minutes of hyperventilating, Tsuna just shook his head vigorously. "No, no…just a bad dream…" He replied in between pants.

He fell back into the covers, hand on his head still. The dream was still there, as vivid as the daylight around him. The wide rolling plains, first inviting and calm…the black and foreboding, then flooded with flame. Who was that silhouette? Another question added to the whirlwind in his mind. Yet, there was something nagging him at the back of his mind…like somehow…he knew who that silhouette…no…both those men, he knew who they were…

"Oh…" Gokudera began, turning toward the door. "If it's just that then…" He didn't have time to finish, as he fell over before he could.

"Gokudera-kun!" Tsuna threw back the covers and rushed to his friend's side, his curiously suspicious dream cast aside for the moment. Turning the silver-haired teen over, the Tenth-to-be finally noticed Gokudera's wound. It seemed as though the wrapping, and the stitching under it, had come undone, and Gokudera passed out from blood loss. Considering that Gokudera's room was one flight of stairs below his own and in the opposite wing of the estate, it was unbelievable how he got here so fast with an open wound.

"Your Guardian is truly loyal to you." A voice commented from behind the young brunet. Right on cue, the free-floating Wisp of Dying Will Flame appeared from nowhere. Tsuna could make it out in his peripheral vision, but didn't take heed of it, taking Gokudera's shoulder in his arms, preparing himself.

"To the point where he kills himself over nothing…" Tsuna added under his breath, as he tried and failed to lift his fallen friend off the carpet. A few more fruitless tries made Tsuna's worry and early morning exhaustion worsen, as he had taken notice that the carpet was getting redder and redder with each try.

"If you will allow me control, young Decimo…" The flame drifted closer to Tsuna's chest, directly over his heart, and once again, the brunet felt that warming sensation from last night. Letting the warmth spread further, that eerie floating feeling washed over him again, as Gokudera's dead weight suddenly felt feather light, easily lifting Gokudera over and onto his shoulder like one of Yamamoto's baseball bats.

'Whoa…' Tsuna thought as he (or rather, he watched himself) casually opened the door and strode out, carrying Gokudera to his room. 'I never thought Giotto-san was this strong just looking at him…'

"I could say unto you similar words, young successor of mine." Giotto's voice rang in his mind. "For a boy such as yourself Decimo, your strength is phenomenally disproportionate."

Tsuna couldn't help but feel humbled. He never saw himself as strong, though others would state otherwise. Perhaps it was just his nature, but he would always attribute his own strength to something else, perhaps an adrenalin rush or a side effect of the Dying Will Bullet that he would usually have lodged into his cranium. 'It's not my strength, Giotto-san…'

Another odd sensation washed over him as he had thought of that. The surrounding area had dimmed, as if night had fallen on them again, and there he saw, carrying the still unconscious Gokudera, was the Mafia Boss himself, looking rather out of character, lifting a boy over the shoulder in a pinstripe suit. Tsuna himself, however, noticed that his feet weren't touching the ground, and that he was floating, strangely following Giotto as he made his way closer to the unconscious Guardian's room.

"Though humility is a welcome characteristic for a Boss…" He began, casting Tsuna his calculating gaze, shining like the sun but foreboding like eerie mist. "Temperance of such would be required of you."

They had rounded a corner and came up to the top of a flight of stairs. 'Sorry…' was all Tsuna could manage, looking away. His ethereal companion didn't speak, and started his descent down the stairwell. Finally, they had arrived at Gokudera's room, the fifth room on the northern part of the estate, as specified on the door's bronze plaque, N05.

Opening the door silently, Giotto made his way to the hastily undone four-poster bed and rested Gokudera onto it, making sure to keep the bloodied leg steady. The brunet watched on as Giotto took off a tasseled rope from one of the bedposts, looped it around an exposed beam on the four-poster's roof, and loosely tied it around Gokudera's leg, making a makeshift sling. After adjusting it to the right height, he turned to the bedside table and tapped a button on an expensive-looking intercom.

"Richiedo il personale medico per venire all'ala del nord, la stanza cinque." He stated in a commanding tone, though Tsuna heard his own voice come out from Giotto's mouth. What he said eluded the Boss-in-training, but he assumed it had to do with Gokudera.

It was probably the Hyper Intuition, but he was right. Like clockwork, footsteps sounded off from the hall. A moment passed, and two female Mafiosi in medical attire carrying two first aid kits had entered the room. They were fast, but respectfully quiet. "Lei ci ha chiamato, Don Vongola Decimo?" One of them asked, bowing slightly.

"Sì. Gokudera richiede che i suoi punti rifatti e veda a esso si riposa."

The two needed no other orders. They immediately set to work, bowing themselves past Giotto and huddling over Gokudera, who was just now beginning to stir. "It is time we take our leave…" Giotto told Tsuna as he silently glided over to the polished mahogany doors, eased it open and made his way out the room once again.

As soon as he had gotten out of the doorway, Tsuna's vision brightened back to normal, and the floating feeling had dissipated. He was back in control of his own body, and Giotto was walking beside him, hands folded regally under the long black cloak.

"What did you say to them…?" Tsuna blurted out, like an excited kid about a new toy.

"I had simply told them to redo Gokudera's stitching and to ensure he regains his strength." Giotto replied, regally shrugging his shoulders, making his cloak flap elegantly around his feet, giving him the appearance of a king. When the brunet had nothing else to ask, Giotto walked on, returning to Tsuna's room with no other word.

For some odd reason, Tsuna lagged behind, gazing at Giotto in awe. He couldn't help it; from his ethereal standpoint back then, he almost saw himself instead of Giotto commanding those two nurses…and somehow, it looked so cool…it felt so cool to imagine himself like that: that regal grace in his every move, the Italian words rolling smoothly from his lips. Childish feelings of awe-inspired fantasy ruled his mind as it filled with images of being seated in a wingback chair like a throne, casually waving a hand and muttering something in Italian, dismissing a maid…

Wait, what? Tsuna blinked. That doesn't sound right…

The brunet rigorously shook his head and afterwards knocked on it with his fist. Did he just think that it was cool to be an Italian Mafia Boss?!

They continued to the staircase with no further conversation, both sets of eyes avoiding contact. The golden orbs kept straight on, whilst the amber ones gazed on the Mafia Boss' back, filled to the brim with the same awe and intrigue as before. 'He looks like me…' Tsuna thought, narrowly avoiding Giotto's curious glance back at him. 'Yet he's everything I'm not: Strong…Confident…Regal…are we really related to each other…?'

They reached the staircase and ascended in silence, Giotto leading, and Tsuna absorbed in his own thoughts. A few moments after however, the silence was broken by the blond Boss once again. "Timoteo had told me much about you…" He began, gliding over the steps with ease, considering his nonexistent feet made not a sound on the hardwood staircase."…though I wish to inquire of you your history in person, Decimo."

'Hm?' Tsuna was caught off guard. What would Giotto possibly want to know? Hadn't the Ninth said everything that Giotto needed to know about his new successor…?

"Your Guardians intrigue me so, you see…" Giotto continued on, as if hearing Tsuna's frantic thoughts. "I yearn to know more, if my badgering is not a bother for you."

Well, there was Tsuna's answer. "No, not at all!" He replied, catching up to his ghostly companion up the steps. "I'll be happy to answer anything you ask."

"I humbly thank you, Decimo." Giotto replied, before beginning his impromptu interview. "As I have met your Storm Guardian, would you please enlighten me as to the rest?"

They walked on, not heeding where they were headed. Tsuna told his ethereal conversant everything he knew about his friends and Guardians. From Yamamoto and Gokudera's constant bickering, to Hibari balancing between his greatest fighter and (in Tsuna's worst imagination) eventual assassin, to Mukuro's systematic flitting between friend and foe, to Lambo's immaturity; Giotto listened to it all, nodding every now and then, but always keeping a solemn silence.

While Tsuna was telling his stories, he couldn't help but notice the odd feeling radiating from the blond Boss. Though his face and features were passive and stoic, Tsuna felt that there was something off, a stray bit of emotion wafting off Giotto like a scent of perfume that never gets out of your mind. It was a gentle mix of joy and sadness, with hints of nostalgia and guilt in the golden nuggets that were his eyes.

Tsuna finished his story, trying to make sense of the lingering feeling that he was getting. For him not being able to interpret this feeling, Tsuna felt a little hurt and insulted at himself. If there was one thing that he was able to do well, even as 'Dame-Tsuna', it was interpret people's emotions. He could tell the difference between someone joking about hurting him, threatening to hurt him but never going through with it, or in Reborn's case, literally hurting him within an inch of his life.

"A-ano…Giotto-san…" He stammered timidly, gulping silently. "Are you alright? You look as if you're…lamenting something…"

The strange melancholic feeling disappeared abruptly as Giotto's solemn eyes flooded with surprise. Gold orbs met Amber as the Blond Boss' facial mask broke into a genuine look of shock for the first time in four centuries. 'How had he noticed?' He thought wildly. 'No other Boss had been able to sense my innermost emotions…how has this boy done what no other has?'

There was silence in the lonely hall that they were in. Everything seemed to freeze in time while the two simply stared at each other, pondering why the other was reacting in such a way. "I-i-I'm s-s-sorry, Giotto-san!" Tsuna exclaimed frantically, taking a few steps back and bowing rapidly. "Forget I said anything!"

Like he did with Gokudera before, Giotto raised a hand to stop the bowing. His kingly composure had returned, and his face returned to its passive nature. "You should forgive me, Decimo…" He started to say, giving off a bow of his own. The wind from an open window began to pick up, making Giotto's cloak drape over his bent form in an elegant sweeping motion, like a curtain falling on an act. "You had surprised me with your powerful sense of insight and I had lost myself in shock."

He turned to the open window and gazed at the view outside. The mist covered mountains in the distance looked strangely yellow as of this moment, most definitely from the sun peeking over the horizon. There was but one cloud in the blue heavens, yet it seemed like was it was ready to disappear right at this moment. It was there and yet not there…like a natural illusion…

"The revelation about your Famiglia brings me back to bittersweet memories." Giotto explained finally, letting out a sigh laced with lament. "Bittersweet memories that I regret to this day..."

Tsuna shrunk back, unsure of what to make of his companion's abrupt mood swing. "I'm sorry, Giotto-san." He said again, not caring that he sounded redundant. Those two words were probably his catch phrase now, since they came out of his lips in every conceivable predicament he was in. "I didn't know it hurt that much."

"You needn't apologize. But I thank you for your information on your Guardians…perhaps maybe I should return the favor?"

"Return the favor?"

"I wish to tell you of my own inner circle of friends, who had stood by me long ago," Giotto began, looking out the window again. "…Close-bonded allies who supported me from the beginning and came with me as I crossed the line to the other side of the law."

"Do you mean your Guardians…?"

Giotto simply nodded. He turned to the side and entered an open doorway, urging Tsuna to follow. Once inside, the Blond Boss came forward, placing the tip of his index finger in the center of Tsuna's forehead. A moment passed and without warning, the tip of Giotto's finger lit with Flame, sending a strange felling down Tsuna's spine.

The young brunet's vision darkened to black for a moment. After a seemingly long time, his confused brain began to stir. He tried to open his eyes but his vision was too blurred. He was lying on his back, but his head was spinning too badly for him to get to his feet.

"Are you alright, Decimo?" He heard Giotto ask from somewhere above him. Tsuna rolled to his side a bit, easing his brain to work better. When he finally felt relatively normal, he took Giotto's outstretched hand and was helped to his feet. Looking around, he noticed that he and Giotto were back in the white abyss where they first met.

"Why are we back here…?" The young boy asked his companion, who didn't reply immediately.

Giotto stepped forward and waved his hand in the air, commanding the white mists to part and reveal the water-like screen behind it. "I cannot simply tell you of my Guardians, therefore I opted to show you instead."

Tsuna watched the screen slowly gain its picture. In it, Giotto was seated in front of a roaring fireplace, reading a very old and thick book. Next to him on the floor, playing (of all things) a Yamatogoto (1) balanced on his lap, sat a man who looked roughly in his late teens or early twenties. He was bent over his instrument, so Tsuna couldn't see his face but he had lightly tanned skin that made him look distinctly Japanese. He was also dressed in Japanese garb, which consisted of a loose robe that musicians of feudal Japan used to wear when performing. The subtle tunes coming from the Yamatogoto seemed to calm both the roaring fire and the rain from outside, creating melodic tranquility with all the aforementioned elements.

"Ah, what beautiful music you make with that strange instrument, Kenjirou..." The Giotto in the screen commented in an older form of Japanese as the performer, now known as Kenjirou, finished his piece. "You are such a talent with that!"

"You spoil me with your applause, Giotto-dono." Kenjirou replied, looking up to meet Giotto's gaze. His dark brown eyes, aside from affirming his Japanese origin, gave Tsuna the illusion that it was Yamamoto in the screen. "Though I regret I must sell my beloved instruments soon."

Giotto recoiled, taken by surprise at Kenjirou's decision. "What? Why? You're a master at any sort of instrument I have seen you play!"

Kenjirou's smile even made his resemblance to Yamamoto all that more obvious. "It is because I have mastered what I desire why I must sell them. I wish to take up swordsmanship you see…to aid you in your future endeavors."

Giotto's shock was still evident, but now it was mixed in with gratitude and a bit of guilt. "Kenjirou…"

Just then, the door opened and in strode (to Tsuna's surprise) five other people who also reminded Tsuna of his Guardians. The first one in was a blond-haired Hibari, complete to his perpetually narrowed clouded grey eyes, who threateningly walked up to the still seated Giotto and pulled him up out of his seat by the collar.

"Did I just hear correctly, Giotto?!" He growled under his breath in Italian, oblivious to the outraged reactions of all the other people in the room. "Did you abandon your mission?"

Tsuna found this odd. He knew that what the language he was hearing was Italian, yet he could understand every word. He looked away from the screen to cast a glance at the Giotto watching beside him, and deduced that it was the bit of knowledge Giotto had to let him understand.

Another man reached forward and rested his hand on the blond Hibari's shoulder. "Quell thy raging temper, Alaude…" He stated in a melodic tone. "His choice has been guided by the grace of God."

Tsuna noticed that this other man, dressed in a black garb with a distinctive yellow stole of a Catholic Priest, bore the most uncanny of resemblances to Ryohei: True, his short-cropped hair was black, not silver and he didn't have the scar on his left temple, but he had the same looks, the same stance, and even the same bandage across the bridge of his nose. He probably had the same build as Ryohei under that loose garb.

Alaude, the blond Hibari, wheeled around and aimed a punch at the one who stopped him, but amazingly, the other man simply grabbed Alaude's fist, effortlessly launched Alaude airborne and lightly threw him into the plush red carpet. The Ryohei lookalike closed his eyes in prayer as soon as he let go of Alaude, folding up his hands swiftly. "I beg forgiveness of you, Oh Lord…" he began to mutter under his breath.

"Enough of your mantras, Randellov." Giotto commanded, raising his hand to stop the priest from his frantic prayer mantra. "Alaude has all the right to take his anger out on me. But alas, I am not refraining from my decision."

The other men in the room gazed on at the younger blond Giotto, each their faces laden with disbelief and doubt for their leader and dear friend.

Alaude picked himself up from the carpeted floor, all the while not diverting his glare at Giotto. "It was his influence, wasn't it!?" He spat out with venom. "The criminal's spawn drew you into this, didn't he!?!"

"Are you calling me, Alaude?" A brash, yet smooth voice called from the direction of the door. All eyes, even Alaude's, turned to the still-open doorway where even Tsuna was surprised at the person speaking.

Casually removing a small cigar from his thin lips and tucking it behind his ear, a Gokudera doppelganger unfolded his arms and confidently strode into the room, stopping only once he had gotten to Giotto's side. Everything about him was just like Tsuna's pyrotechnic friend, except for the fact that the entire left side of his face had a few dark burn scars that themselves looked like flames. "Believe me or not, I had no more knowledge of this than you all did. He declared out. "I may have gotten him started on that mission, but I didn't make him choose this…" Though contrary to his words, he was casting Giotto a look that bore the question, 'at least I hope not…'

The blond boss smiled back up at the Gokudera copy, giving him a look to soothe his worry. "Thank you, G." He replied before turning back to the others. "I chose this path well on my own, and I can understand if you wish for me to disappear from your lives…"

"I d-d-don't want t-t-that…" Stammered a soft voice from the background.

A young man around the same age as Tsuna emerged from the shadows, childishly holding onto a handkerchief the same way a toddler would a security blanket. His messy yet curly black hair, wide and tearful eyes and lanky figure forcefully reminded Tsuna of a fifteen-year-old Lambo.

"Not you again…" G groaned, running a hand through his silvery-white hair. "I thought you weren't leaving your room…Lamperouge de Medici."

The Lambo-like man grimaced at the emphasis on the name, covering his ears as if he was hearing foul obscurities. "Don't call me that! It's Lampo!"

"Everyone stop!" Kenjirou finally burst out, walking right into the center of the verbal brawl. "Giotto-dono has every right to do what he wants…after what happened…"

Suddenly, all of the Guardians shushed up. Giotto bowed his head in silence, gliding past the crowd to gaze out the window into the rain outside.

Kenjirou shrunk back and bowed his head shamefully. "I…I'm sorry I brought it up again. Forgive me, Giotto-dono…"

The blond Vongola did not reply, nor did he speak for a few moments. Though, when he did speak again, his voice was as stern and passive as the usual times Tsuna has heard him speak. "All of you. Answer me this: Knowing of what I am about to do, knowing of my choice and my enemy, will you still stand by my side…?"

A collective silence befell the men in the room. G and Alaude stared at Giotto's back stoically with arms crossed, Randellov and Kenjirou hid their hands in their sleeves, and Lampo resigned himself to fiddling with his handkerchief.

Tsuna leaned in closer to the window. Even from his position, he could sense something building within the room. Resolve like he had never sensed built up in that room as if it was fit to burst. Then one by one, the members of Giotto's guardians took one dramatic step towards their Boss, each with confident expressions on their faces. Then, in one voice, they each replied to Giotto the same answer.

"We'll follow wherever you decide to go, Don Giotto Vongola."

(1) Yamatogoto: A traditional Japanese string instrument.

If you wish to know why it took me so long, I was simply waiting for the manga to reveal more about Giotto's Famiglia for me to be accurate. Also, I have strived to make this chapter longer than its predecessor, which is little over seven thousand words…this one is more than eight thousand, give or take the heading and footnotes.

Please take note that with my stories:

The longer you have to wait, the better I strive to make the chapter I'm writing at that moment.