Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!.
Tenfold
He does not offer to become one of the pallbearers for Dino's funeral, although he does attend the ceremony as a representative of the Vongola, suited in impeccable black and standing among the pussy willows, away from the rest of the Cavallone famiglia. Kusakabe keeps an umbrella by his side, even though the weather is sunny and bright, and the morning report has no warning of rain.
The Catholic priest's voice is loud and booming, a stream of Italian pouring from dry lips. Hibari pays scant attention to the words, but there is a small quirk to his lips at the content, faithful, generous, dedicated. A good person, the priest declaims next, and Hibari slides his eyes closed. He turns away.
"Call me when it's over," he tells Kusakabe, and strides towards the entrance. He does not bother to pretend that he's taking a call, uncaring of the fact that it may look rude to anyone who's watching him. Hibari owes his teacher nothing, and he definitely doesn't have to deal with the nonsense being spouted.
Dino Cavallone is mafia, plain and simple. To indicate otherwise will be to erase who he is (was). And Hibari has no patience for that.
The streets of Florence are busy as usual, and Hibari moves through the milling people, a figure of black cutting a swath through the myriad of colours. He does not like mixing with crowds, but returning to the Cavallone mansion is an even less appealing option, especially if he arrives without Dino's cortege. Still, when he spots a wine shop tucked in a corner, he enters it with little hesitation, exchanging laughter and trade-talk for cool darkness and quiet.
The proprietor lowers his newspaper and eyes him over half-moon spectacles, but Hibari murmurs a smooth greeting in Italian, which gets his hackles down just a little. The walls of the shop are lined with racks of wine bottles, neatly labelled by spidery hand. Still, Hibari doesn't need the proprietor's help, the moment he steps into the store, it clicks in his mind what he's really come to do. Bad handwriting isn't much of a deterrent, as long as he can make out the words.
It takes him fifteen minutes to find what he is looking for, fingers gliding on cool glass as he turns over bottle after bottle. His final choice feels surprisingly heavy in his hands as he brings it over to the counter.
"It's a good year, that one," the shopkeep says gruffly as he packs the bottle in a brown paper bag. Hibari simply nods. He knows, however unwillingly. His hand dips into his wallet to pull out unfamiliar currency, tens and hundreds. The paper bag crinkles a little under his grip, and he's about to leave when he remembers something.
"Do you sell wine glasses?"
"How many?"
The question annoys him suddenly, and without thinking he snaps, "One," in Japanese. The shopkeep is non-plussed, however, and in the light of his calm gaze Hibari pulls himself together.
"Three," he says at last, and he gets them in a brown box. His pocket vibrates at the moment, and it's a good thing that he's forced to hand the bottle over to be packed together into a plastic bag, or he might have dropped it. Tetsuya's name flashes on the screen, and he punches the button with more force than necessary.
"Kyou-san."
"I'll be there." Hibari says into the phone. He doesn't look at the proprietor, and only answers the "ciao" with an insincere farewell of his own. The package bumps against his leg as he pushes the door open, and the sudden onslaught of street noise makes him growl a little under his breath.
Still, he manages to make his way back to the cemetery without any incidents. Kusakabe is waiting where he left him, and Hibari is gratified to see that there are no stragglers around Dino's newly made grave. He takes out the wine and the box, and Tetsuya dutifully cleans the glasses with a handkerchief and opens the bottle with a hiss.
"Your favourite, Dino Cavallone," Hibari says, low at the grave. "Montefalco Rosso, 1987." The words feel strange on his tongue, because it's usually Dino who announces the name of the wine, who describes the body of the taste, the flavour. Educating Hibari in the ways of savouring a fine, Italian wine.
It was my first.
Tetsuya pours into all three glasses, and he presents the first to the gravestone, the second to Kyouya, and the third he keeps for himself. They stand there for a moment, before Hibari drinks his in one long, burning swallow. Dino would have berated him for spoiling the first sip, but Dino's own glass sits untouched, its contents still. Tetsuya is the only one who drinks it properly. For Hibari, that is enough.
They leave the rest of the wine and the empty glasses behind for any wandering ghosts to drink from. At the Cavallone estate, Hibari offers Vongola's condolences and congratulations to the newly christened Eleventh. The young girl sitting on her huge, uncomfortable inheritance looks at him with huge eyes before lowering her gaze.
"We know who killed the Tenth," she says quietly. "As the Vongola are Cavallone's ally, we humbly request your assistance in righting this grave wrong done to our family."
"It will be done," Hibari replies almost immediately, his hands itching for cold steel handles. Tetsuya probably already has some information on Dino's murderer, but it's always better to have different sources to check, to find the root.
Somewhere in his mind a voice says that he does not have to do this, that he can relegate to others, to subordinates, but Hibari brushes it away. Tenfold, he thinks. I'll return the price you paid tenfold.
Cavallone Eleventh bows to him. Her shoulders are heavy with new burden.
"Thank you."
