A/N: For those who know me, I am not dead. For those who don't, this story was a collaboration between me and Starred. But Starred has left it in my hands to finish it (though I warn that will not be soon), and so I am posting it on my account now. This chapter was written by me, the next by Starred, and the last by me. I will post all three by the end of the week and leave the story alone until I finish my others (which yes, I am still working on – no promises on when I will finally post anything.) I hope you enjoy what has already been written, at least for now. I hope to get back to it sometime, but it is low priority.


Tsuna glared at the pile, hoping it would burst into flames with the intensity of gaze. Unfortunately, the pile continued to sit on the center of his desk mockingly. He would stretch out a hand and burn them to a crisp, but that would only cause the papers to return fourfold, probably wrapped in a bow and thrust in his face at two in the morning if his old guardian heard of the incident. Tsuna scowled. He wondered if he could find anyone brave enough to keep the world's greatest hitman away from the Vongola mansion long enough for Tsuna to burn every last paper in their headquarters. Maybe Tsuna's lightning guardian would be suicidal enough to try, but Tsuna doubted any distraction the fifteen year old could come up with would be effective against Reborn.

Sighing, Tsuna took another paper off the pile and decided for probably the thousandth time that month that he wished he had never met his former caretaker. Reborn had first entered Tsuna's life the way the hitman always did, surrounded by chaos and red. That day, the chaos had not been caused by Reborn. Closing his eyes briefly, the images of his mother collapsing in front of a ten year old version of himself swam into Tsuna's brain, and the same fear that had taken over that ten year old self that instant ghosted over Tsuna before Tsuna countered it with the image of the tall teen in a black suit that had grabbed that same ten year old self by the scruff of the neck and carried the tiny Tsuna out of that garbage. No, Tsuna could never regret that day 12 years ago. Even if it had led to Tsuna sitting behind this evil desk and battling the most wicked of enemies called paperwork.

Strange how recently even thoughts of Tsuna's former "tutor" (as the man liked to be called) reminded Tsuna of his greatest wish. Tsuna paused his inspection of the document (another famiglia that had reconsidered forming an alliance with Vongola after what Tsuna's mist guardians fondly called the "Cake Incident") to force that useless thought back. Reborn would have Tsuna undergo more training if the hitman caught Tsuna with that uselessness in the young mafia don's head. If one could do nothing about an idea, it should be shelved and ignored until one could do something about it. But Tsuna doubted he would ever be able to do anything about his wish. Tsuna had never fallen in love and doubted he ever would after Kyoko. He remembered how terribly his three year crush on his sun guardian's sister had ended, and Tsuna didn't want anyone to suffer her fate. And she had only been a crush. What would happen if Tsuna had someone he truly loved? And not just romantically? Tsuna could never have a family outside his guardians, former caretaker, and famiglia, and honestly, they were enough trouble. Tsuna did not need to add a child to the mix.

Dreams of tiny hands reaching towards him, of a tiny face that lit up at his approach, of a young voice calling "Papa," those dreams needed to be pushed back and forgotten. Nothing could come from them. Tsuna had cities to protect. He had sworn to all those important to him that he would do everything possible to keep their loved ones safe from the evil that had once enveloped all of their cities. Even if doing so kept Tsuna from having what he considered most precious.

"Boss," came a timid voice from the door.

"Yes, Lorenzo," said Tsuna, placing the alliance petition down. The dirty blond hair peeked out from behind the door, but Tsuna could see nothing more of his secretary. The young mafia don put on his cape and strode purposefully towards the door. Whatever had Lorenzo hiding behind the door instead of facing his boss head-on had to be bad. Tsuna gently pried the door out of Lorenzo's grasp and revealed skittish hazel eyes. Wonderful. One of Tsuna's guardians had done something. Tsuna vaguely wondered why his secretary never had any trouble telling Tsuna about an enemy famiglia entering their borders, but always quivered in fear when the blonde man had to tell the Vongola boss about the latest guardian antics. Tsuna sighed again. "What did they do this time?"

"It's not them," said Lorenzo in a very quiet voice. "It's the kitchen. The chef found something."

"Something or someone?" said Tsuna, his voice becoming harder as it unconsciously did when one of his famiglia behaved in a way that did not become a Vongola. Lorenzo flinched. The boss had no idea how much like a certain hitman he sounded when he took that tone. Even though the boss claimed that he cared nothing for the "Vongola name" outside of earning a rebuke from his former caretaker and best hitman, everyone else in Vongola knew that the boss hated nothing more than for his fellow famiglia members to act in a way that sullied that name. Not because he particularly cared for the Vongola reputation. No, he hated those actions because they usual included innocents getting hurt. Or more paperwork. Lord help the soul who gave the boss more paperwork. Even the cloud and mist guardians had learned that the wrath of an overworked Vongola boss would not end well for the cause of said wrath.

"S-someone," whispered Lorenzo. Brown eyes flashed orange, and Tsuna silently marched down the hall. No use letting the culprit know his boss was coming. If Reborn had drilled one thing in Tsuna's head (and the sadistic hitman had literally drilled several), it was that sneaking up on someone always gave one an advantage.

"—et was coming to you! I don't stand for thieves in the Vongola's kitchens," yelled the voice of one of the chefs, Venci. Tsuna had suspected that Venci was behind the commotion. The half-French, half-Italian man had an intense pride in working for the great Vongola famiglia (which didn't make sense since the Vongola famiglia was still too young for anyone to be "honored" by serving it in Tsuna's opinion) and a quick temper. Not a good combination, which is why Tsuna had left the man under Martha. She was the Vongola head chef and did not stand for nonsense in her kitchens. Tsuna had hoped that the woman's strict but fair direction would help curb most of the man's more violent episodes. Unfortunately, Martha was off visiting her children today, which meant that Tsuna would have to do it himself. Poor Venci.

"I'm sorry," said a small voice that stopped Tsuna in his tracks. That voice…it could only belong to a child. A very young child, and it sounded like one on the verge of tears. A thump followed, as if something was knocked down. "I'm sorry. I was hungry. The man said it was okay to come here. I'm sorry."

Tsuna could almost imagine a small child (like one he had seen so many years ago when he was but a child himself) cringing on himself and continuing to babble apologies, not knowing anything else he could say. Without another thought, Tsuna burst into the kitchen. The chef lay in a heap on the floor, and blonde child not more than six stood over the crumpled chef with a frying pan in hand. Tsuna stared at the child, and the child stared at Tsuna. Then the child dashed for the door opposite Tsuna. Roughly four seconds later, the child dangled in the air, held up by his collar. A nostalgic smile tugged on Tsuna's lips. Who had ever thought he would carry a child in the same position that he had once been held in? The child started to squirm, and Tsuna turned his attention back to situation.

"Who are you?" asked Tsuna.

"Giotto," said the child, and the instant the word passed his lips, the boy covered his mouth. Another smile, this one of pure amusement, threatened to stretch Tsuna's lips. But Tsuna couldn't let his expression change. This boy, however young, was an intruder. And if Reborn caught Tsuna relaxing around an intruder, Tsuna was assured several months of early morning lessons on what to do with intruders. Early morning as in 1 o'clock in the morning.

"Giotto?" said Tsuna to the wide blue eyes. "What are you doing here?"

The boy kept his hands over his mouth and set his blue eyes in a challenging stare. Tsuna could barely resist the urge to laugh at the sight this Giotto made dangling with such a defiant expression from Tsuna's hand.

"Well then, alright," said Tsuna putting his most serious expression. "Guess if you don't want to talk, I'll have to make you."

The blue eyes widened impossibly wide, and the boy shook his head furiously.

"So you'll tell me what you're doing here then," said Tsuna, using the last of his will not to break out into chuckles. This child reminded Tsuna too much of a much younger Lambo. But then tears formed at the edge of the blue eyes, and guilt pushed away all Tsuna's amusement. Tsuna couldn't stand the child tears. "And why not?"

The boy slowly took the hands from his mouth, but the blue eyes continued to shimmer. "The man said I can't tell you unless you do something first."

"What man? And what do I need to do?"

"I can't tell you," said the boy as a tear trickled down a cheek. But instead of feeling worse with the tear, Tsuna felt his intuition flare. Something wasn't right with this situation. The boy was crying too easily for one that didn't want to talk. And he wasn't shaking. If this Giotto was scared, why wasn't he shaking or shivering? Tsuna knew the signs of fear too well. They coursed through his body every time Reborn and "training" were mentioned in the same sentence.

"You can't tell me," said Tsuna, his voice dropping an octave. "Then you will have to suffer the consequences."

This time, the small body jerked under Tsuna's hand, and the twinge of guilt almost returned, but then the tears disappeared and the defiant expression took over the boy's face again. The blue eyes hardened as if to steel. The child drew himself up, or as much as he could hanging from the dirty white shirt. Tsuna took a closer look at the child's clothes. The shirt clung to the boy's body, too small for him, and dirty, no filthy, with dust and dirt and smeared with other substances that Tsuna doubted he wanted to identify. The pants tightened around the boy's belly even though the boy barely passed as a stick. The pants frayed badly at the hems, as did the shirt. The material threatened to break under Tsuna's fingers. This child had been left alone for a year, maybe more. Or maybe his family was very poor. Probably why the boy had been stealing from the kitchen. Usually, Tsuna would have one of the many sous chefs take the boy to the maids and clean the child up, feed him, give him some money to help his family or send him with some to the nearest orphanage and a paper with the Vongola seal. No one mistreated the orphans under Vongola protection, which were all really. Tsuna simply sent the Vongola seal to remind the orphanage workers who they answered to. Most found the seal as a sign of protection, but some found the seal threatening. Those were the ones that Tsuna most often sent his subordinates to visit. Still, this boy was…different. This Giotto had the spirit of a feral cat. If he had parents, they left him alone, and he had learned to protect himself and…maybe others? Tsuna's hyper intuition could only tell Tsuna so much. However, sending a belligerent thief to an orphanage would not do the Vongola's reputation much good. And Tsuna had to protect it in order to be able to send more orphans there. Plus what the boy said…

"I'll give you one more chance," said Tsuna, focusing his will into his eyes and narrowing them dangerously. He wanted to help this boy, but he couldn't until he understood the situation more fully. "Who is the man?"

The hard blue gaze continued. Tsuna smirked, and the boy trembled and lost a little of the hardness in his eyes as they quivered. The young mafia don had no idea how scary he looked when he smirked.

"Fine then," said Tsuna. The timber of his voice dropped to as low as it could go. The little boy actually shook a little. "Time for the consequences."

Before the child could grow more terrified, Tsuna tossed the little boy up a little in the air and caught him by the middle. Skilled fingers ran up and down the boy's sides, and the child's face contorted into a mixture of shock, confusion, and restraint. Then the child's cheeks bloated, and the small mouth twisted as the child's face turned red. The child clenched his teeth to keep from laughing, and the reddening cheeks and tightening fists worried Tsuna. Most children gave in thirty seconds under Tsuna's quick fingers. A full minute passed, and the child simply thrashed about and refused to even breathe. Finally, Tsuna let the child go, and the child breathed in deep when he landed on the floor. Tsuna bent down to the boy's level and gazed deep into the glassy blue eyes. What child fought so hard to keep from laughing? What child didn't love to laugh?

"Is that what I have to do?" asked Tsuna. "Make you laugh?"

The boy shook his head slightly before stopping himself. The glassy eyes hardened back to steel.

"You wouldn't hurt a child," said the boy. The blue gaze seemed to stare straight through Tsuna, and Tsuna would have been more unnerved if a certain pair of obsidian eyes didn't often look the same. Instead, the gaze intrigued Tsuna. "No matter how much you threaten, you wouldn't strike a child."

"Not if they didn't deserve it," said Tsuna with a small smile. "I have met some that could use a good spanking. I usually send those to my storm guardian."

"Are you going to send me?" asked the boy. Tsuna's smile changed into a frown. The boy's tone was flat, like he didn't care. Like he had suffered things much worse than a spanking.

"No," said Tsuna. "I believe the punishment should fit the crime and the criminal. So I need to know more about what happened here before I decide what the punishment will be."

"And if I don't want to tell you anything?"

"I will wait for Venci to awake and will be forced to take whatever he says as truth," said Tsuna. The words had the expected effect as understanding glinted in the blue eyes. Honestly, Tsuna was impressed. A six year old should not understand such a hint. But the boy understood. Too bad his lips pursed together and whitened. The boy still wouldn't say a word. Tsuna stood, formulating a plan. He couldn't hand this boy over to the interrogators (Hibari and Mukuro did a marvelous job), but Tsuna could hardly let the boy go without finding out what was going on. "Come."

"Are you going to take me to your storm guard?" asked the boy, the slightest quiver in the tone. The quiver wasn't from fear, but from hope. Did the boy want to get away from Tsuna? The fact that the child had said storm guard instead of guardian despite Tsuna having already used the term verified that the boy wasn't an enemy famiglia spy. Probably. Reborn would kill Tsuna himself if the young mafia don underestimated the lengths enemy famiglia would go to get to Tsuna.

"No," said Tsuna. He had no other option. "You're coming with me."

Giotto didn't like this. The man hadn't said that the other one would be nice. Giotto had seen rich people. They yelled at those that swept floors and cooked. They hated people in their homes that didn't have as much money as they did. They whipped boys who snuck into their kitchens to steal food. That was why Giotto always went into their kitchens alone. He even left G behind, when the blond boy could convince his best friend (or rather trick the redhead) into staying behind with the others. This time, Lampo had started to cry and distracted G long enough for Giotto to go hunt for food. And then that man had appeared, the man with the black fedora.

The man with the black fedora didn't look like a rich person, but he didn't look poor. Giotto had decided to steal from the man's pocket. But the man had caught him. Then instead of yelling for the police, the man inspected Giotto. Giotto had stayed still under the man's gaze, though he really wanted to run away. If he tried to run away, the man might hit Giotto more, because Giotto would show "weakness." Like Fitz had always said. The man with the black fedora had smiled, and Giotto had trembled because the man's smile looked dangerous. Maybe it was what Daemon called a smirk? The man's words repeated in Giotto's head.

"I have a little task for you."

The man hadn't let Giotto say no. The man with the black fedora had said either Giotto did the task or the man would hand Giotto over to the police. Giotto didn't know if he could get away from the police again, so Giotto had gone to do what the man said. Go into the fancy mansion that everybody avoided unless invited and steal some food. Somehow, the man with the black fedora had known that Giotto snuck into kitchens often, but Giotto hadn't gone into this one yet. Children who stole from this one had never come back. Giotto and the others didn't know what happened to those children, but Giotto couldn't disappear. Who would take care of the others then? G couldn't do it all by himself, and Asari could only help once a week thanks to Asari's dad keeping a close eye on the little foreigner. Giotto didn't trust Daemon to give food to anyone but Elena, and Lampo was too little to do more than make G mad. And Alaude was always too busy "arresting" people and keeping dangerous men away from them.

But now Giotto had been caught, and whatever happened to those other children would happen to him too, and G would be really mad and try to get Giotto back and leave Lampo alone with Daemon and Elena, and then Asari wouldn't be let in because Alaude would be mad too and keep everyone out, and maybe Daemon would turn them all into the police like the melon head kept saying he would.

"Giotto," said a quiet, gentle voice. Giotto looked up at the man who held the little boy's hand. Worried brown eyes looked back at Giotto. "Are you okay?"

"Let me go," Giotto said, using what Lampo called his scary voice. The brown eyes widened, and then the man sighed.

"Please tell me your eyes did not just flash orange," the man muttered. "You already look a little like me. Hayato's going to think…"

The man stopped himself and looked around as if scared of something jumping out and hitting him. Giotto stared at the man.

"Who's Hayato?" asked Giotto, the question slipping from his lips. Giotto closed his mouth so hard it hurt. Usually, Giotto never said anything to strangers. Fitz had said that one shouldn't talk a lot to strangers, because then they would use what you said to hurt you. Daemon had talked, and that's how they had ended up losing their home. And Fitz, but that wasn't so bad. It was the house they missed. Still, Giotto didn't talk to strangers. But this brown-eyed stranger felt different. The feeling was so strange that Giotto had even told the man his name before realizing that the man was a stranger. The feeling reminded Giotto of Fitz, only better.

"My storm guardian," said the man, either not seeing or pretending not to see Giotto's frown. That phrase. Had the man decided to take Giotto to be spanked? The man smiled at Giotto, and that feeling came back. "I'm not going to take you to him. I'm going to hide you from him, because I don't need more paperwork, and Hayato's going to blow something up if he sees you."

"Why?" asked Giotto, the feeling opening his mouth again.

"Because he'll jump to conclusions," said the man with another sigh. "We should go back to my office. It shouldn't be too hard to hide there. We'll just stick you behind a pile of paperwork."

Paper? That didn't sound so bad. Why did the man make it sound like it was as bad as Daemon when Elena went to play with Alaude instead of the melon head? The man opened the door to a huge door with pretty designs. G would love to study the door. The redhead liked pretty things, though he didn't like Giotto telling people that. A groan came from the man as he looked at the middle of the room. In front of three windows that were bigger than the door sat a big desk covered with paper. So much paper that Giotto couldn't even see what the desk looked like other than that it was bigger that where he, G, and Lampo slept. The groan was replaced by a growl as the man moved to the other side of the desk, dragging Giotto behind him.

"Stay here," said the man in a hard tone. Giotto immediately stayed beside a huge blue chair (why was everything so big here?) . The man didn't sound angry with Giotto, but the little boy didn't want the man angry with Giotto too. Muttering about evil paperwork and cowardly secretaries, the man opened the bottom door of the red-brown desk (Giotto could see more of it from the back since paper wasn't falling on this side). The man pulled out another pack of papers, but these didn't have words like the others. These papers were blank. Grabbing Giotto's hand again and gently pulling the boy up, the man led Giotto to a small table a little behind and beside the desk. The table was full of other papers with words, but the man handed the blank papers to Giotto and moved the papers with words to the floor. Other worded papers went to the floor and revealed a wood chair a lot smaller than the big blue one. "There. No one will see you if you sit there. You can put those papers on the table while I get some crayons."

Crayons? What were crayons? Opening another drawer on the desk, the man dug through more papers before pulling out a small box. Shutting the drawer hard, the man came back to the table with a wide smile.

"Looks like Lambo didn't find these. He's really too old to use these, and coloring on Hayato's papers is going to end with him in the hospital again. Here you go," said the man, handing Giotto the box and motioning for Giotto to sit down. "Please don't make too much noise. I would like to finish with these before more end up on my desk. Oh, and if you try to leave, I'll have to use the rope I have in the other drawer, so please don't get up from this table without asking me."

The man patted Giotto's head and then went back to the desk, plopping himself down on the chair and attacking the papers. Giotto hadn't thought someone could attack papers, but that's what it looked like the man was doing with that pen. Looking away from the man, Giotto stared instead at the box. He opened it, and seven different color sticks lay at the bottom of the small box. Taking one out, Giotto peeked back at the man attacking the papers. Was Giotto supposed to do the same thing with these sticks? Would that help the man? Giotto shook his head. Why would he want to help the man? The man was rich. He didn't need help.

Giotto put the box down on the table and took out the orange stick. It was round and long and the perfect color orange. Orange had always been Giotto's favorite color. He put the stick to one of the blank papers. Orange appeared on the paper. Giotto blinked and moved the stick around the paper. More orange trailed over the paper. Giotto knew that people used things like pens to write words on paper, but those pens wrote black. But this stick wasn't a pen, and it wasn't black. The man had called it a crayon. Giotto moved the stick, crayon, across the paper, and the paper started becoming the perfect orange. And then he moved the stick in different directions: up, down, around, this way, that way. Soon the whole paper was orange. Giotto put it to the side and started on another one. Soon, he was using the other colors. The colors became scribbles, and the scribbles became shapes. Giotto got to the last paper and decided to use it carefully. He wanted to make something that would make G want to study it.

Tsuna pushed away from the mostly empty desk. The clock down the hall donged six times, and Tsuna smiled. He finished right on time. In about five to ten minutes, Hayato would storm into Tsuna's office and demand that the mafia don stop for the day. Hayato would have come earlier to check on Tsuna, but Asari had woken up sick today. Hayato hated leaving his adopted son alone with the maids when the little Japanese boy wasn't feeling well (or ever if Hayato would ever be perfectly honest about the child), so the storm guardian had move his work to the storm's quarters for the day to keep an eye on the sick Asari. The situation had suited Tsuna fine since the young mafia don hadn't had to put up with Hayato's constant questioning and the worry that the man would discover Giotto. The thought jerked Tsuna up as he spun to check on the child. Tsuna had accidently gone into what Takeshi called "paperwork zone". Tsuna's own hyper intuition, Takeshi's serious voice, Reborn's presence, or Hayato's shouting were usually the only things that could drag Tsuna out of "paperwork zone" before the paperwork was done. The others had tried various other methods, but none of them worked. Mukuro had once spent a whole day trying to get the boss out of "paperwork zone," but not even a combined Chrome-Mukuro illusion of Hayato shouting full volume had effect Tsuna other than to have him hand them a complaint form. When Tsuna had finally gotten out of "paperwork mode" that day, several piles of new paperwork had become necessary thanks to Mukuro's wanton destruction of Tsuna's office. Mukuro hadn't left his quarters for weeks after the event, and no one had asked why. However Tsuna's "paperwork zone" made sure that Vongola was never behind on paperwork. Actually usually Vongola was ahead on paperwork, since no member of the famiglia dared to be slower than their boss when he had triple the paperwork they did.

"Giotto?" Tsuna called worriedly. He hadn't meant to ignore the child for four straight hours. The boy had to be at the table, since Tsuna's hyper intuition would have warned Tsuna had the child moved. But Tsuna still worried. When Tsuna saw Giotto, he let out a sigh of relief. The boy had his head on the table, his arm stretched in front of him in a way that reminded Tsuna of an exhausted Takeshi who had fallen asleep at the rain guardian's desk. Carefully, Tsuna picked the child up, surprised by how light the boy was. Tsuna's brow furrowed as he felt sharp corners on the boy where rounded ones should be. How many half-starved children would show up in their kitchens before there were significantly less children on their streets? The boy's head rolled from Tsuna's shoulder to the crook of Tsuna's neck, and Tsuna stilled. The tiny head under his chin felt…it felt right.

Giotto was not the first child to stay at Tsuna's office. Asari had been in it a dozen times, and Lambo before that, when the lightning guardian was just a child and needed constant supervision after one of his stunts. Other than those two, several orphans and subordinates' children spent the afternoon at Tsuna's office. Outside Vongola, Tsuna was viewed a compassionate but just boss who became a lion at any threat against his famiglia. Inside Vongola, the famiglia members knew Tsuna to be a capable young man who had a hard time saying no and could entertain and watch over any child. So Tsuna's office had become the unofficial daycare for any famiglia member in need of emergency babysitting. Tsuna had picked up several children who fell asleep in his office. But Giotto was the first that Tsuna's arms had so naturally squeezed around. Tsuna didn't want to let this boy go.

Immediately, Tsuna scolded himself and forced himself to think about what would happen if his "tutor" came in and saw the young mafia don acting so idiotically. Tsuna couldn't keep this child. As Vongola boss, Tsuna had to do his job and find the safest and best place for the boy and move on.

The office door slammed open, startling Tsuna and almost knocking him backwards. Tsuna quickly regained his balance and automatically shifted Giotto to a more protected position. A little black haired boy in a white night gown burst into the office and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Primo! It's time for dinner!" yelled the little boy as loudly as he could.

"I do not sound like that!" growled an equally loud voice.

"Yes, you do, Chichi," said Asari, smiling back at the scowling Hayato. "Except you're louder."

"You're confusing me with Lawn Head again," said Hayato, amusement flittering through his green eyes despite the scowl. "You shouldn't mix up your father with your uncle, brat."

"Nuh-uh," said Asari shaking his head. "Uncle Lawn Head would yell 'Extreme' too."

"I thought you were sick, Asari," Tsuna said quickly put an end to the bickering. Otherwise, they might never get to dinner.

"I was," said the little brunette. Tsuna always found it amusing that Asari was Hayato's son when he looked so much more like Tsuna's rain guardian. Tsuna had been surprised when Hayato had come in six months ago and asked for permission to adopt a child. Of all Tsuna's guardians, Tsuna had expected to get that question from Chrome or maybe Takeshi, not Hayato. Hayato was completely dedicated to Tsuna and their work with Vongola. The storm guardian didn't do anything but work except the times when Tsuna and Takeshi would drag the storm guardian out or when Takeshi convinced Hayato that Tsuna needed to rest and the reverse happened.

Seven months before, Asari had somehow snuck into Hayato's quarters, and the boy had refused to move from his spot inside Hayato's closet. For weeks, Hayato had had to take care of the boy, since Hayato didn't let anyone inside his chambers other than Tsuna (and Takeshi on the bomber's good days) and Hayato wasn't going to have the Vongola boss waste time taking care of some kid that wouldn't come out of a closet. Tsuna had let Hayato alone, thinking the storm guardian could benefit from taking care of a small child and not be so against Tsuna letting children inside the boss's office. Tsuna had never expected Hayato to become so attached to the rain guardian look-alike.

"So you're feeling better now?" asked Tsuna.

"Uh huh," said Asari, his head bobbing. "Chichi had Uncle Lawn Head come over and help me get better."

"Good," said Tsuna smiling, happy that Asari was feeling better and that Hayato was letting more people into their chambers. Given Gokudera's pouting frown, the storm guardian hadn't wanted anyone to know about Ryohei's visit. Giotto shifted in Tsuna's arms and brought attention to himself. Tsuna hoped his arms hid enough of Giotto's body to mask the resemblance between Tsuna and the blonde child, because otherwise he might need a new office door or more likely a new office. For a logical, intelligent man, Tsuna's right hand man tended to jump to conclusions whenever possible, and his reactions were entirely too explosive.

The blonde child yawned and opened his sky blue eyes. For a moment, Tsuna was distracted, the sight of the half-awake face taking up Tsuna's complete attention.

"Giotto?" asked a small voice, breaking Tsuna's gaze. Asari stood right in front of Tsuna, staring hard at the blonde in the boss's arms. Suddenly the little brunette's hazel eyes lit up, and a smile beamed on Asari's face. "Giotto! You're here!"

"Asari?" said the blonde, staring at the little brunette.

"Giotto's coming to dinner, right?" asked Asari, looking at Tsuna. Numbly, Tsuna nodded. "Wow, Giotto, you got the best dad."

"What!" said Tsuna and Giotto in unison.

"Primo," Hayato growled, and Tsuna suddenly realized that he had let Giotto shift into full view of the bomber. Bombs peeked out from the storm gardian's suit coat. "What's her name?"

"Her name?" asked Tsuna, backing away slightly.

"The name of the woman who dared take advantage of Primo," said the bomber, his eyes flashing dangerously. Tsuna gulped and backed away further. Several types of dynamites (particularly explosive ones if Tsuna's experience with them was anything to go by) appeared in the silver haired man's hand. Tsuna didn't need his hyper intuition to know that this was not going to end well.