It had not been the first team that Tsuna had wanted to send on a mission together, but the Tenth had very little choice. With the rest of the Guardians locked in prior commitments and having a commitment himself to diplomatic talks with a group of European bosses, his only option was to send Gokudera along with Ryohei on a mission. It was always better to sand Ryohei on trips with others anyways, as long as the destination involved talking. Well, since they were tossed on an airplane to America and Ryohei was still speaking very broken English… it was probably a good thing Gokudera was the one going with him.
In mid-Spring, Gokudera and Ryohei had arrived in America ready to get the job over with before it even began. Their destination, Detroit, ended up being an interesting one with the poorly-kept roads, chill-to-the-bone winds, empty neighborhoods and residents largely comprising of those wishing to be “badass” filling their stay. Their hotel, as well as the target, was in the suburbs though, which seemed to make things slightly less annoying; at least the houses weren’t falling apart and the residents did not give the two foreign business men odd looks.
The mission was a simple one: threaten some mooks who were throwing around the Vongola name for no reason and then tail them for a few weeks to make sure the message got through. The idiots in question, the Cozza, were claiming to be long-standing friends with the Vongola, despite the fact their branch had immigrated to America in the mid-1800s and had not kept in contact with the motherland since then. They were trying to use the Vongola name to threaten a local automotive workers’ union head into submission over something or other, which was almost about to begin compromising the welfare of the union members. Although Tsuna could have cared less, he did not want these lies to escalate any further and sent Ryohei and Gokudera to put a stop to it permanently.
The threatening part of the job was more or less a cakewalk. After doing a little bit of asking around, they found not only the store run by the Cozza as a cover for some of their less legal moves and the union chapter they were trying to squish, but were able to put a stop to things by barely saying a word. Turned out the head of the chapter was a young, good-looking, charismatic man originally from the inner city sitting in his first seat of power since Student Council President in high school. He had dated a girl from the Cozza family for some time and there was a messy breakup, which led to her calling in a favor to make it look like some petty gang war had crawled up from one of the poorer city neighborhoods.
“She didn’t like it when I told her I was from the city and flipped,” the chapter head had told Gokudera and Ryohei before they went out to the Cozza’s store. “Some of the people in the suburbs don’t like it when we’re from the city, ‘cause of all the gangs and drugs and shit going on down there. But you move to get away from that shit, right? Most people don’t have a problem with that, but it gets really difficult when someone does. She can have a problem with me—I don’t care—but they be threatening to take down some of the other chapter members and their families and that’s not right. We respect each other in this chapter and I can’t let the people who don’t mind me suffer because of one stuck-up bitch.”
It had only taken about three minutes after walking into the store for Gokudera and Ryohei to encounter the owner. He was the head of the Cozza and more wrinkled than a Chinese Shar Pei puppy. A short while of talking to the man in purposefully-heavy Italian accents solidified the Cozza’s submission and the promise to never flaunt the Vongola name again. It all had seemed sincere enough, but the next two weeks was going to involve tailing the old man and his grandson, who helped run the operations, in an effort to make sure that things had been clear. After about a week of covert tailing, the young man from the union had contacted them once again, except with a different tone.
“Here you go,” he smiled, holding out two tickets towards the open rental car window. “I got these from the union ‘cause they know I’m a fan and all. I’d go with a friend, but I can’t single one out like that and my brothers all be into basketball instead.”
“We don’t have time for a game,” Gokudera glared, his patience already being tested by Ryohei’s persistent questions concerning the questionable nutrient content of the burgers they had just snagged via a greaser-takeaway diner.
“You would if the men you’re following have season tickets. It’d make it easier to get in, anyways. Just remember they’ve got some metal detectors at the gates. The tickets are the least I could do. Enjoy yourselves.”
Thus Gokudera and Ryohei found themselves climbing a massive flight of stairs on their way to the arena. Dressed in the most casual clothes they brought as to not stick out, which still consisted of dressier slacks and button-up shirts, the Italian and Japanese did their best to look like they knew what was going on.
“So, what kind of a game is this?” Ryohei asked, looking at the tickets over Gokudera’s shoulder on their wait to get in.
