Things went well for the four boys. They had built a steady reputation and a good skill base, so they hardly ever had to direct customers to more competent companies anymore. Even the 'artistic' jobs could now mostly be handled thanks to Hayato. Who would have guessed he had a creative side?
It was now the end of November. The three Japanese boys had recently surprised the Italian bomber with his birthday. Sure, Hayato knew they celebrated the others', but he thought himself to be too new to their lives to have a party prepared for him.
He had been truly shocked to discover the piano wrapped in red paper waiting for him in the 'Office' (public living room where they welcomed customers) when he returned from his most recent job on the night of September the 14th. Tsuna, Shoichi and Kyoya had gathered their money to buy the expensive instrument. The silveret had been honestly touched, and went to play on his new gift. He was out of practice, but still remembered most of the lessons his mother had taught him. The music piece he performed was a bit clumsy and shaky, but it was still beautiful to his friends' ears. They could not have made him a better present.
Anyway, in the couple weeks that followed, Hayato had found time each day to practice and even started to teach Tsuna and Shoichi the basics, as well as a few customers who hired him as a music teacher. Kyoya had unsurprisingly declined the offer, but still sat in the corner of the room to hear them play.
()()()()()()
It was late at night when Tsuna was walking home. He had went to deliver the contracts he had translated to the client, and ended up staying longer than intended. The client had started talking about his work and he never found an excuse to take his leave. At least he had learnt a lot about legal contracts and how to exploit their flaws. Not that he planned to use that knowledge any time soon, but it was always good to know.
The sun had already set and it was freezing. The brunet had been prepared for low temperatures, but that was pushing it a bit. Wasn't it supposed to be warm in Italy?
He was blowing hot air on his hands in an attempt to warm them when he heard a voice from a narrow alley. A young, very young voice.
"Must... To-le-rate..." came the childish voice once Tsuna had come close enough to distinguish the words.
Sitting in the middle of the alley was a child, probably no older than 5, trying desperately and failing to hold back his tears. Tsuna's heart broke and he rushed to ask what was wrong.
The boy looked a tiny bit better now that someone was worrying about him. "Lam-Lambo-sama is... is absolutely no-not lost!" he answered in what was meant to be a proud tone between his sobs. At least, now Tsunayoshi knew what was wrong. The brunet also noted the unusual use of Japanese suffixes. Yet Lambo was definitely not a Japanese name and spoke in Italian. He'll ponder about that later.
"I see. Well, my name is Tsunayoshi Sawada, but you can call me Tsuna. And I would be delighted to escort Lambo-sama to his house if he could tell me the address." He smiled. No use in upsetting further the already upset kid and call him out on his obvious lie. And he wasn't about to let the afro-haired child alone and outside in such a cold night.
Normally, a child should refuse such an offer, but apparently, this one's parents had never told him not to trust strangers. Or he was too shaken to remember that piece of advice. Tsuna had only extended his hand that the boy latched onto it and his cries calmed down considerably.
