Romario respected many people. It was a part of his nature, and part of the job.
But Hibari Kyoya... Hibari wasn't someone you respected lightly.
Hibari was someone you approached with respect, or you didn't approach at all.
Privately, Romario thought Hibari was dangerous. Not because of his strength — though that was undeniable — but because of his pride.
Hibari wasn't loyal to anyone but himself.
Not to the Vongola. Not to their alliances. Not even to Dino.
Romario could see it clearly, even when Dino chose not to.
Hibari stayed where he wanted, fought when he wanted, listened if he felt like it.
There was no leash, no chain strong enough to hold a boy like that.
Romario didn't dislike Hibari. Far from it.
In fact, he admired the rawness, the fearlessness, even the ruthlessness Hibari carried in his small frame.
But he worried — quietly, deeply — what it would one day cost Dino to love someone like Hibari Kyoya.
Because Dino wasn't like Hibari.
Dino loved with all his heart, openly, carelessly.
And Hibari... Hibari had thorns sharper than any weapon.
If Hibari one day turned his back — Romario feared Dino would be the one left bleeding.
Still, Romario kept these thoughts to himself.
Because Dino was smiling.
And Hibari, in his own silent way, was smiling back.
And sometimes, loyalty meant letting your boss chase the things that could hurt him —
Because they were also the only things that could make him truly happy.