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Leaving the orphanage had left Dino off-balance. Granted, it’s been an incredible adventure — not a moment since he met Reborn has been boring, that’s for certain. It’s just that sometimes, he’d like some solid ground, and every time he seems to find it — like his place in the Agency — something comes along to make him trip over his own feet all over again, unable to get his bearings.
And if it isn’t the antagonist of the week, then it’s Reborn literally shooting at his feet during training. Or even worse: Fuuta. Fuuta after training with Reborn, in the middle of the Agency, sitting on a desk, legs dangling, and looking up things he has no business looking up with his ability.
The second worst thing about the whole situation is that he clearly has no ill intentions: he just takes one look at a bedraggled Dino and Squalo and says: “I know! Hugs from Mama make everything better when my day is bad. Because she’s my favorite person in the whole wide world!”
He put his glasses on and looked down at his book. “Just you wait, Dino-nii, Squalo-nii! I’ll help you out! World’s greatest detective: ranking prince Fuuta is on the case!”
A sense of dread came over Dino like a wave, a shiver crashing down his spine. “Fuuta, wait, please—”
But it was already too late.
Fuuta's feet stopped swinging back and forth as he went stiff as a board, staring ahead with galaxies in his eyes, his hair and scarf floating in the air along with pens and paper from the desk.
Squalo, unaware of the more pressing danger, cursed next to him. “VOI! That’s my mission report! Don’t mess up the order!”
Behind them, Reborn scoffed. “If you’ve still got energy left to worry about that, I should send you on another five hundred laps.”
Squalo paled and immediately shut up, gritting his teeth. Even with his eyes still on the impending disaster that Fuuta was, Dino couldn’t help but pat him on the shoulder in solidarity. “He’s in ranking mode, now. Not much to do about that anyway until he’s done.”
Fuuta’s eyes seemed to look straight through them, and Dino couldn’t help but shiver once more, his grip on Squalo’s shoulder tightening.
Fuuta cocked his head. “Huh, you don’t see that often! Your number one spot for the favorite person in the world is shared!”
Dino’s eyes widened. Oh no.
Fuuta opened his mouth.
Oh no.
But it was too late to stop him. Fuuta beamed, which looked extraordinarily creepy with stars spinning in his eyes and a peaced-out expression. “I bet Squalo-nii and Bianchi-nee are so happy to share that place in your heart!”
Place in your heart, heart, heart. It seemed to echo through the room, every occupant frozen at Fuuta’s declaration.
Behind them, Reborn was the one to break the silence with a snicker, then a full-on laugh.
Dino let go of Squalo’s shoulder as if he’d been burned. His face turned beet red as he felt Squalo’s eyes bore into him.
Of all the ways for that to get out!
He didn’t even dare look at Squalo, covering his face with his hands. The air felt charged, and not just with Fuuta’s ability or even the humiliation of being laughed at by Reborn again.
Finally, Squalo sniffed. “Voi! At least he has good taste! Can’t say the same about the rest of you!”
Dino snuck a look at Squalo, barely believing what just came out of his mouth.
Squalo stuck his nose in the air when he saw Dino peeking through his fingers. “Bad bitches are a good type as far as types go. And Bianchi’s hot. I’d judge you if you weren’t into us.” He flicked his long silver hair over his shoulder.
Dino’s head felt like it was about to release steam like a kettle and then deflate like a balloon.
At least that didn’t seem like… a bad reaction? Might even be considered a good one from certain angles?
A seed of hope started to unfurl in his chest, and Dino could barely believe this was even allowed. It felt like being lit up from the inside, like he’d hung Christmas lights in his veins somehow and now it was permanently the loveliest holiday of the year, except maybe Valentine’s Day if he could get a date for that—
But he was getting ahead of himself. A throat was cleared behind them and Dino startled, nearly falling over if it wasn’t for Squalo catching him, grumbling all the while about his “clumsy ass.”
That quieted quickly once it became clear just who had cleared their throat: Reborn was standing behind them, dark eyes gleaming with a danger Dino knew would slice into them like a knife, hit them like a bullet. “I certainly hope you didn’t accuse me of having bad taste.”
Squalo bristled as if he hadn’t gotten himself into enough trouble yet. “Tsuna-san is the epitome of good taste!”
Dino gave a sigh of relief. That wasn’t too bad!
And then Squalo kept running his mouth. “His only flaws are staying in the Port Mafia and liking you!”
Oh no. Now he’d done it.
Reborn shot at their feet, and they scrambled away from him as fast as possible, making a run for it towards the door.
“That was your one warning shot,” Reborn growled behind them. “For the next five hundred laps, I’m aiming at your feet for real. Better run, Shrimp, Pipsqueak.”
And they do. Gods, do they run the lungs out of their body, until their muscles are burning and so tired that they know Reborn must not be truly aiming at their ankles anymore, but not willing to stop running until they collapse on the off chance he’ll take them up on that bet and shoot them just to make sure they never even dare to mouth off to him again.
And it was then, breathing harshly, trying to suck in oxygen as fast they could with burning lungs and muscles, collapsed on the grass, that Dino dared to reach out.
If he was going to die, he would die knowing what it felt like to intertwine his pinky with Squalo’s.
It was a tiny gesture. Probably didn't even count on the grand scale of life. But Squalo’s pinky curled around his, and it was stupid and way too hot and muggy with how sweaty and desperate they were, lying on the grass in the summer sun after running miles upon miles.
But it felt like Dino could run another mile just from the high of that feeling.
Just… give him another minute or five to get up before he makes good on that promise, if Reborn didn't end them first.
For a second, the ground was stable under him again.