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As usual, the newest unwelcome nuisance sprang into Tsuna’s life without any warning whatsoever.
This time, it came in the form of a grinning, slimy-looking middle-aged foreigner standing at his front door with a pair of briefcases. As soon as Tsuna opened the door he bowed deep, in the exaggerated, awkward way foreigners who were new to their customs did.
“Vongola Decimo”, he said, stretching his smile to the maximum before adding in heavily accented japanese: “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
After the last few years of mafia madness, Tsuna had grown a little savvier - or so he’d like to think, at least. Rather than let surprise or annoyance show on his face, he offered his right hand to shake and put on a fairly decent smile himself.
“And you would be...?” he asked.
The man looked surprised. “It’s me, Enrico Veríssimo. I flew in as soon as you called.”
“Reborn called you, most likely,” said Tsuna, holding back a tired sigh. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors today. But nevermind that; if he had you come, it was for a reason.”
“And a very good one, I might add,” added the toddler, stepping into view from wherever he’d been hiding, most likely deriving amusement from the situation. “Come on in, Enrico. I trust you’ve brought all the books?”
Enrico merely raised his two briefcases, grinning. It was with great misgivings that Tsuna stepped back to allow the man in; he’d just barely managed to pass the A-level italian proficiency test - Reborn couldn’t have imported a crazy teacher with a pile of crazy books to step up the level, could he?
Yes, he could.
But when Tsuna brought back tea and cups to the visitor (the rest of the household having gone en masse to the amusement park at Lambo’s insistence), the books carefully arranged in neat piles in front of Enrico didn’t look at all like EU-approved learning material. They were thick, covered in velvet and adorned with golden filligree, and but for the lack of the Vongola coat of arms he’d have thought they were some sort of absurd Vongola Brand study book, or Primo’s high school material or something.
“So?” he asked, sitting down and bracing himself for this new surprise.
Enrico opened his mouth to speak, but Reborn cut him short with a little cough.
“Tsuna,” he started, “you’re sixteen years old now.”
Tsuna never got the handle of raising one eyebrow, so the two of them rose together, somewhat lopsidedly. He’d been sixteen for a few months already, so why bring it up now?
“Since you already count as a young man, I thought it was time to bring to your attention another important duty you have as the boss of the Vongola.”
Tsuna just sighed inwardly. As if going to parties, entertaining foreigners, learning italian, saving the world and restraining Mukuro weren’t enough duties already.
“It’s the duty of choosing the one who will complement you as a boss.”
Tsuna drew a blank on that one. Some sort of shadow guardian?
“Oh, for God’s sake, kiddo. I’m talking about a wife .”
Of course, he really should have seen something like that coming. When the news of a mafia turf war in his backyard brought up nothing but weary disappointment, and the possibility of a world-ending cataclism was met with a few phone calls and determination, Reborn would eventually find something else to make him sputter in disbelief.
When he was done expressing his bewilderment, Reborn wordlessly handed him a handkerchief to wipe the spit bubbles gathered at the corners of his mouth.
“Reborn,” he began, once he had somewhat composed himself, “I’m way too young --”
“It’s not like we’re marrying you off tomorrow,” interrupted the baby. “Or even this year, for that matter.”
“Then why even--”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be thinking about it from early on. The choice of wife affects the family in several ways I'm sure you never bothered to think about, which is why I had Enrico, the Match Maker, come with his picture books to explain his work to you.”
Enrico bowed his head humbly.
“When choosing your wife,” continued Reborn, “you must keep in mind all the advantages of strengthening ties with her family, and the possible disadvantages of having them under your wing. As a political alliance this usually involves concessions from both sides, not to mention the dowry - which is basically monetary compensation for taking the girl - though as the Tenth Vongola most families will be happy just to have a leg in your bedroom...”
Tsuna’s eyes strayed to the velvet-covered books stacked by the kettle. The word “dread” was written in them.
“The wife has her own duties as well, of course, and putting aside the sexual ones she should also be able to represent the family as a host in any family gathering, and optionally to keep her head in a crisis. Intelligence is good to have, but too much of it and you might be inviting a snake in your bedroom, so be careful with that one. Her appearance ties in with her role as a representative host, but intelligence and charisma usually make up for any shortcomings in beauty, so--”
The word “dread” gave way to “horror”.
At Reborn’s own suggestion, Enrico started his presentation with the single daughters of the most minor families.
On the table in front of Tsuna lay open one of the velvet books, and each side of every page held the picture of a different foreign girl, each with varying ammounts of jewelry and make-up, each framed by delicate filligree and stamped on the bottom with a relief of their coat of arms. Enrico, across from him, introduced each of them by name and family, and listed all their pros and cons as a wife (good cook, fiery temper, fluent in several languages, compulsive shopper, embroidery as a hobby, arrogant and vain--), as well as the current state of their families (financial difficulties, wide territory, control of local police force, leading political party--), even though no such information was listed anywhere in their pictures. Enrico clearly had it all memorized.
According to him, the amount of filligree framing a particular picture represented the family’s general influence. The first book had nothing but discreet lines, the first few pictures surrounded by thin, dainty little curls in spots; the cover itself mirrorred its contents, with tasteful but sparse ornamentation. The second book showed a certain improvement in decoration, as the power and possessions of each candidate raised with every turn of page.
Both Enrico and Reborn stressed that any girl from the first six books or so were actually beneath the Vongola’s contempt, and only being mentioned at all so that, in Reborn’s words, Tsuna would get a proper feel for the raising stakes. The boy remained quiet throughout the explanation, and now stared down at the pictures with an expression that Enrico could only label as regal, detached disinterest.
Reborn recognized it as barely restrained disgust. Maybe some righteous anger thrown in as well. He gave it maybe three more books before Tsuna’s forehead caught on fire, and the books along with it.
He smiled to himself. Enrico loved his job, and thought of all the girls in his books with nearly grandfatherly affection. It would be a pity to destroy all the work he’d put into making even the most obviously inbred of the lot look presentable.
He excused himself discreetly, walking out into the backyard to use his cellphone. Time to implement part II of his plan.
Sasagawa Kyoko was halfway through homework when her cellphone rang.
“Kyoko?” the childish little voice spoke as soon as she picked it up.
“Yes?” she stuttered out in surprise.
“This is Reborn,” the voice said, unnecessarily as it was easily recognizable. “I hope you’re not too busy.”
“No, of course not,” she said reassuringly, setting her pencil down. Reborn rarely phoned her directly, and when he did, he never sounded so serious. Clearly this was not the time for biology. “Is something the matter?”
“Actually, yes,” said Reborn. “Right now, there’s a man in Tsuna’s living room parading pictures of mafia heiresses in front of him, going on about the political advantages of marrying each of them.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, stupidly. She should feel jealous, she really should, as her friendship with him seemed constantly suspended right above the line of romance without ever crossing through, constantly held back by awkward timidity and not a little fear of her brother’s reaction--
And maybe she should feel helpless as well, knowing the responsabilty Tsuna held to make the best possible choice for the sake of the Family as a whole, and how she was likely to not be that choice--
But she really could only think about how all that sounded like a disaster in the making.
“He’s not happy about that, is he?” she said, failing to find any better words in which to describe the sheer enormity of Tsuna’s projected not-happiness level.
“It’s worse than that,” said Reborn, as if he had access to a graph of her projections. “The man means well, but the way he’s talking about those girls, it comes across like he’s some sort of tupperware salesman. Tsuna’s offended .”
“Oh--” she gasped again, her shoulders tensing.
“Yes,” Reborn went on. “The situation is getting tense here. And both Maman and Bianchi are out with the kids, so it’s only the three of us at home, without any sort of buffer. Not only that, but I’m supposed to be neutral. I can’t step in. I need someone else to derail this.”
“What about the others? Like my brother? Being his guardians and all,” asked Kyoko, even as she fished some clothes out of the wardrobe.
“As the inner circle of the Vongola’s next generation, they’re all highly elligible bachelors. No, it’ll just be more pictures and more people to be offended by them. And Haru is right out,” he added, even though Kyoko hadn’t mentioned her yet. “She’s too... excitable.”
“I see,” she said. “I’ll be right there, then.”
“Don’t take too long,” said Reborn, hanging up.
Tsuna had lost count of how many books had been passed in front of his eyes. The current one had much thicker pages, each picture now an elegant oval embossed in a textured surface stiff with ornamentation; the girls displayed within had their own personal fortunes, described in terms such as liquid assets, estimated value and majority holder.
They also had all the same kind of bland, standardized beauty that could be achieved through a scalpel, and sometimes even the same bland, bored expression of magazine models; the overall effect was that of perusing someone’s family album, being forcibly introduced to a long line of cousins - all of them variations of a face he didn’t know, and half of them looking stoned.
A quick glance at the pile of remaining books showed him that the current one was still a mid-tier mafia princess album.
He was so immersed in that strange world of bland faces and irritation that the sound of the doorbell jerked him right out of his ennui.
He jumped to his feet, more promptly than would have been strictly polite.
“Sorry,” he mumbled to Enrico, nearly tripping in his hurry to put on his slippers, “someone at the door...”
“Someone” turned out to be Kyoko, smiling sheepishly with a cake box in her arms. A box big enough to fit a whole cake.
“K-Kyoko-chan!?” he stuttered out, even as he helpfully took the bulky box from her arms.
“Hi!” she said, all smiles and rainbows, walking in past him and taking off her shoes. “My favorite cake was on sale, so I thought I’d come share it with everyone.”
“Ah--” he stammered, suddenly aware that there was a slimy-looking middle-aged man in his living room, with a bunch of books full of dolled-up teen girls. “W-well, no one’s home, Mom and the others left for the amusement park...”
“Really?” asked Kyoko, and her slightly wide-eyed look of surprised dismay was so convincing that it never once occurred Tsuna that she’d known that fact all along.
“Yeah,” he bit down his lip in hesitation, unconsciously following her as she walked in regardlessly. “There’s only this other guy here...” he made a face. “...for work .”
Kyoko nodded sympathetically, and, to Tsuna’s horror, went straight for the living room.
“I’m sorry for interrupting your business,” she said, bowing politely to the flabbergasted foreigner.
Enrico stood up awkwardly, bowing back in his weird, exaggerated way. “We were nearly done anyway,” he mumbled, ears going a little red. He’d been smart enough to close his books as soon as he’d heard the visitor’s voice, and Tsuna almost dropped the cake box in relief when he noticed.
“Feel free to conclude your conversation, then...” she said, taking the box back from Tsuna’s hands, “...while I prepare some refreshment.”
“No, no, no, no!” said Enrico, effusively, bending down to hurriedly pile his books back into his briefcase; Tsuna nodded encouragingly from behind Kyoko’s shoulder. “I couldn’t possibly impose--”
“I insist!” said Kyoko, smiling that smile - that sweet, dimpling smile that crashed through all possible defenses like an X-burner - before bowing one last time and swishing her way to the kitchen.
“Go help her,” said Reborn to Tsuna - who had completely forgotten he was present, and who was for once glad to comply.
The living room's mood changed as if by magic, though whether it was thanks to Kyoko or her cake it was hard to say. The bride books lay forgotten halfway into Enrico's briefcases as she entertained him with all sorts of trivialities, and the man found himself nodding and participating even though he barely knew what she talked about and wouldn't actually retain much of that afterwards.
Still he found himself glancing back to Tsuna every now and then, taking in his look of adoration and relief at having her around (though in part it was caused by her interrupting the session). Clearly she was the Tenth's lover, and her existence explained his apparent disinterest (which was actually disgust) for the beauties in the book. Ah, young love. Hopefully their relationship would last past his eventual marriage; some mafia wives understood such needs. Not all girlfriends could handle being the "other woman", though.
After the cake was finished - completely so, everyone present having gotten three slices each - Kyoko had delicately excused herself, piling the plates to take to the kitchen; Tsuna hurriedly followed her with their empty teacups like an eager puppy.
That was when Reborn turned to Enrico.
"She's the Sun Guardian's younger sister," he said, as lightly as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on Enrico's lap.
Enrico wasn't drinking anything, but still managed to do a spit-take on his own spit.
"The Sun--" he choked out.
"Yes," continued Reborn. "Sasagawa Kyoko, Sasagawa Ryouhei. Didn't you pick that up?"
Enrico's mind swam. To think there was such a high-ranked, eligible young woman among the Tenth's inner circle, whom he'd never heard about! Immediately his mind started making plans, nearly on automatic, as he nervously began to shuffle the books back in order into his cases - he'd have to add a new page to the First Book, yes, and it would have to express in colors and livery and texture just how absolutely out of any mere mortal’s league she truly was; he began listing to himself the dress and props and color scheme he’d use in her portrait, possibly Sun-themed, how to best translate the gracefulness she irradiated into a flat, static image...
And he wouldn’t forget to add enough richness to express the fact that the Tenth Vongola himself already had his eyes on her.
Of course, he had to make sure it would be finished by the time the Tenth got to look into the First Book - how surprised and pleased wouldn’t he be to find out she was in his league afterall!
Yes, Enrico thought to himself, he had committed a grave mistake in not properly investigating the Guardians' immediate families. What if there were other eligible young women he didn't know about? That was unacceptable!
Kyoko managed to further extend her stay by finding all sorts of tiny, unimportant things to do in the house, and eventually, to Tsuna's surprise, Enrico said his goodbyes and promised to return in two days. Less than five minutes later, Kyoko had wrapped up her never-ending dusting spree of the living room's decorative plate stand, and the two shared a light afternoon snack before she, too, left.
Tsuna was still watching her disappear behind the corner when Reborn turned to him and said:
"Enrico is going to add her to his books."
Tsuna choked on his own spit. "Wh-- WHAT !?"
"Most likely to the book, though," continued Reborn, airily, "the First Book, the one only the inner circle of the 10 oldest and most powerful families in the whole world have the clout to thumb through. Be glad, Tsuna," he added, with a glint in his eyes, "You're among them."
"B-b-but--" Tsuna stuttered out, his eyes close to bulging out, "Why? How? Why ?"
"Why not?" Reborn shrugged. "I'm surprised Enrico didn't recognize her on sight. You kids have done a remarkable job in keeping the girls out of scrutiny. I'm guessing that, by the time she arrives home, Enrico will already have arranged a full luxury photo-shoot for her. Don't be too surprised if Haru also makes it into that book as well."
"But--," insisted Tsuna, who still couldn't seem to wrap his head around what he was hearing, "That's just not right ..."
"It's not wrong either," Reborn countered. "After all, she's young, she's beautiful, she's eligible, she's available ..."
And then he turned back and walked in, smiling under the brim of his hat - and Tsuna, alone in the porch under the setting sun, felt himself break into a cold sweat.