Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or any of its characters, settings, or crotchety old men.

Warnings: Spoilers for the Inheritance Arc; if you don't know who these characters are yet, you probably shouldn't be reading this. Also, beware of general crack and stupidity.

Summary: It's not that the Ninth's guardians are completely useless; it's just that they don't really give a damn.


Mafia Days: Chapter One - Twins


The phone rang just as Ganauche III was stepping out of the shower, wringing the excess water from his sexy mop of hair with a towel, his body freshly reinvigorated with the scent of Swagger by Old Spice. Wrapping another towel around his waist, he stepped into the bedroom and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Ganauche?" the old-man voice on the other end rasped.

"Coyote? Wow, long time no hear. What's up, Big Guy?" He always called Coyote 'Big Guy' even though Coyote was not in fact abnormally large (though he was at least a guy). He did this out of a deep-seated belief that any man with a gray shoulder-length mullet who went around with a name like Coyote Nougat ought to be referred to by some sort of nickname just on principle. And since Ganauche was not particularly good at coming up with nicknames (his specialties lay more along the areas of, I don't know, kicking ass), there it was.

"Bad news, I'm afraid," Big Guy said, sounding grim. Ganauche waited, expecting to hear something along the lines of 'my cane broke again.' Or some other old person problem.

"The boss has been kidnapped," Coyote said instead, and Ganauche had to admit, he was kind of taken by surprise.

Really taken by surprise, actually. "What?" he asked as he wrenched his towel back up to his waist from where it had gradually been sliding down to rest enticingly on his hips.

"I said, someone kidnapped the boss," Coyote repeated. "Xanxus, I think it was. And the Varia. Those fuckers."

"When was this?"

"Um. Like… a few days ago, I guess?"

"—And you guys just let it happen?"

"Hey! In case you forgot, we're retired now, brat!"

"I would think something like the boss getting fucking kidnapped would warrant coming out of retirement for a few days!"

"Well, we would have, if someone had actually bothered to tell us about it before now!"

Suddenly Ganauche had the stark, deer-in-headlights sensation that he'd just walked into a trap.

"Which brings me to the other reason I called. Ganauche… why the hell weren't you there?"

"Uh." He swallowed. "I was on vacation."

"On vacation."

"Yeah."

"In Tijuana."

How did he know—but wait, if he had called here, then of course he must have figured it out. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"…Because that's how I roll?"

"And who the hell was supposed to be protecting the Ninth while you were off perving on drunken college girls in fucking Tijuana?"

"What, do you expect me to think through the potential consequences of all of my actions every single time?" Ganauche sputtered, aghast.

"When you're the one who's supposed to be guarding our precious boss, yes!"

"Well, what about the other guardians?" Ganauche tried, feeling that he was being unfairly saddled with more than his fair share of the blame here.

"What about them?"

"They exist!"

"…Yes," Coyote acknowledged after a moment, somewhat reluctantly.

"So why aren't you yelling at them for not doing a better job?"

Coyote's only answer was a silence that said perfectly well that they both knew the other guardians did not count and people hardly even knew their fucking names so don't even try it.

"Fine," Ganauche acquiesced after a long pause. "…So, uh. Is he, you know… okay?"

"…Yeah, apparently the Decimo and his friends rescued him."

"Oh, those kids?" Ganauche perked up.

"Yeah, the ones from Japan."

"All right, awesome! So why are you even calling me, then?"

"What do you mean, why—"

"Dude, I've got a date with twins in like an hour." He checked his watch. "—Forty-five minutes, actually. So if that's it and everything's fine, then I gotta go."

"Ganauche—!"

"Say hi to the boss for me, tell him my bad. Won't happen again. Hope he feels better."

"You little shit, if you even think about hanging up—!"

Ganauche plunked the receiver back down, humming brightly as he cut the Big Guy off. Sure, Coyote might be a little pissed off now, but no harm done; teachable moment and all that. He'd calm down as soon as he found himself a crossword puzzle or some prune juice or something.

Besides, right now, Ganauche III had more important things to worry about. Like motherfucking twins.

Oh yeah, baby.

It's on.