Katekyo Hitman Reborn! Fan Fiction ❯ Che Cavolo ❯ One-Shot

A/N: Could be considered an extreme prequel to Midnight Cowboys but stands easily on its own.
Pairing: none
Warnings: second person. wtf? I never write in second person. Although this pointlessness is very much my usual type of writing. XD

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

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It starts from a random thought. One of those sadistic ideas that can only be the product of divine inspiration, because you certainly weren't looking for ways to amuse yourself, now were you? But the idea is there all the same, and now you can't get rid of it. And maybe it's has something to do with you being an angry 14 year old. Maybe it's because you, the Tenth's Right Hand, have been reduced to babysitter of an idiot who cares about nothing but baseball and speaks nothing but Japanese - and you happen to be in Italy. But maybe it has nothing more to do with it than the fact that Yamamoto Takeshi is annoying the shit out of you with his constant questions, his ridiculous laugh, his overwhelming presence.

So you stop and dig some bills out of your wallet, and the idiot gives you a questioning look when they're shoved in his hands. “See that stand over there? Get us some food. Ask for testa di cazzo if they have it. If not, fanculo is fine.”

You make him repeat each until his pronunciation is adequate, and Yamamoto beams that ridiculous smile at you again. Then you excuse yourself on the grounds of needing more cigarettes - he doesn't know you still have an unopened pack at the hotel, see - and wait around the corner.

Chaos follows shortly; angry voices and fists and a crash echo down cobbled streets. You snort a little (you can't help it!) and head back just in time to see Yamamoto pick up his cash from sidewalk. He's no worse for the wear, of course, the only evidence of his transgression a red lump on his cheek. His attackers are stirring but otherwise out of commission.

Yamamoto stretches his jaw and gives you a look. “That wasn't food I asked for, was it?”

You grin despite yourself.

This is how you end up back at the hotel teaching the idiot Italian curses - “It literally translates to cabbage.” “Haha. Really?!” “Add the `che' in front, though, and it basically means `what the fuck?'” - which is utterly, utterly ridiculous. It's not like he's even going to use any of these, but somehow you can't be bothered to care.

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A/N: I used this post: http://www.italylogue.com/about-italy/italian-swear-wor ds-jessicas-8-favorites.html as my source, because I know crap about Italian. For those curious: testa di cazzo = dickhead and fanculo (shortened from vaffanculo) = `fuck off' or `go fuck yourself' essentially. :D