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leftnotright · 1 year ago

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A TEXTBOOK EDUCATION

"This will be a skill-building experience. You've had it too easy. You've had your Family name to back you, and your Right Hand at your every call. It's time you learn to carry yourself, to build from the ground up." Dino Cavallone, the Cavallone Don, fresh out of high school.

Reborn, the deadliest hitman of the modern era, has a special kind of torture up his sleeve for his dear struggling student. Dino will have to see how well he handles alienation, isolation, and worst of all, class participation. “Now, go on, my useless student Dino. Let’s continue your education.” (Or: Reborn sends Dino to Australia. It goes better than he could have ever hoped.)

Parings: N/A Characters: Dino (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Vic Hunt (OC - Original Character), Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Romario (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Cavallone Famiglia, Enzo (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Original Characters Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, University, Pre-Canon, Financial Issues, Fluff And Angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

CHAPTER 5: EVEN IF WE GOTTA RISK IT ALL

Dino’s coffee table was covered in papers, every page of debt he had available on display with their numbers highlighted and circled. Open on his computer was an internet window with several tabs all squashed together along the top. Dino reached over and moved his cursor across the words: ‘MELBOURNE CUP 2022 WINNINGS FIRST PLACE: $4,400,000’.

“A bonus of $500,000 for the owner, if their horse won the group one Irish St. Leger run the previous September,” Dino uttered slowly, reading the details of the Melbourne Cup with slow, careful eyes. He penned it down.

The Melbourne Cup didn’t have the largest purse in horse racing, just a bit of skimming had told Dino that. On a notepad, Dino had written down: ‘ DUBAI WORLD CUP $7.2MIL, KENTUCKY DERBY $1.8MIL, THE EVEREST $6.2MIL (IN SYDNEY!)’

But out of all the horse races, especially in the catchment of Australia, the Melbourne Cup had, by far, the greatest reputation. ‘The race that stops the nation’. What a title.

If Dino were to try and get more bang for his buck, he’d have been wiser to go for the Everest or Dubai. However, Dino wasn’t trying to be a one-hit wonder. With the Melbourne Cup came fame, a name backing his horses and the Cavallone brand. If Dino won the Melbourne Cup, it would only make enrolling in richer races all the more simple.

A meagre four million wasn’t going to put much of a dent in the Cavallone’s debts. No, winning one race wasn’t going to pull them out of the red. Dino was going to be in this for the long haul, participating in one race after another.

He needed numbers. As many hooves on the track as possible to increase his chances of winning high positions if not first place. The more horses Dino had in the races, the more prize money he could rake in - and hopefully, break even.

Racing costs money.

Training, for both jockey and horse. Transportation, feeding, accommodation, equipment and uniforms. All of that came after the original enrollment payments, and for the Melbourne Cup, there were rounds of it. Three to be exact.

And that was just the Melbourne Cup.

Dino grimaced and sipped a cup of water, blessedly cold after Dino had found the ice rack in the freezer. He put the glass against his temple and sighed.

There wasn’t much more he could do by himself. Before Dino ran off with this idea, with all his hopeful ‘what if’s and ‘we could’s, Dino would have to present his case to the Family. And since this was going to involve the horses and a whopping portion of the Cavallone funds, he was going to have to talk to the Stable Master and the Vault Keeper.

That was a full-blown Family Meeting, Dino had never called one of those before! The last time Dino had even seen the Vault Keeper was-

Dino took a slow breath and concentrated on the feeling of cold perspiration dripping down the side of his face.

The last time Dino had seen the Vault Keeper was the day of his succession and within the hour of his father’s death.

The Stable Master, at least, Dino knew quite well.

“Okay,” Dino murmured to Enzo who peeked out from under the coffee table. “For a formal Family Meeting, who do I need to call? Right Hand, Stable Master, Vault Keeper, probably the Head of Housekeeping to keep them in the loop and-” Dino winced, “Available Guardians.”

The Cavallone Don groaned as he flopped back on the couch, still holding that glass to his forehead to try and ward off that headache he felt creeping up on him.

It wasn’t working.

☁ ☁ ☁

The first thing Vic noticed when Dino stumbled into class was that he was all but dead on his feet. The poor guy was slumped over in his seat, resting heavily on the desk in front of him.

Vic came and found her seat next to Dino at their group’s table. She unpacked her laptop and produced a folder, full of the handouts and the straws and blu-tack for their activity.

“How’re you doing?” Vic asked, and gave Dino a gentle nudge.

Dino’s arm slipped out from under his jaw and his head hit the desk with a ‘ bang! ’. Vic cursed as heads snapped around and quickly moved to scoop up Dino’s head, hissing at the red mark on the boy’s forehead.

“Fuck,” she wheezed and Dino blinked widely, very much awake now. “You’re in a fucking state! When did you go to bed?”

“Uuuh,” Dino squinted as he rubbed his head, “The, uh-”

Vic had the sudden and horrible feeling that this boy hadn’t actually gone to sleep that night. She looked to her folder, then to the lesson’s tutor who was setting up the projector for the day’s rostered presentation: Social Class.

Oh fuck.

Where the hell was Jess? Vic looked at her phone and saw a text in the group chat.

Jessica Cheng

Hi guys, really sorry the trains are being replaced by buses, I’m gonna be like 10 minutes late.

Jessica Cheng

Can we just move the activity after Vic and I’ll come in last?

Jessica Cheng

I’ll sprint it, I promise

Vic twitched and looked at the clock. They were only required to speak for three minutes each. Dino looked like he could speak for less.

She groaned and rubbed her head before sending a text back.

Vic Hunt

Sure, we’ll buy you time.

Jessica Cheng

Kk see you soon

Jessica went abruptly offline then and Vic only hoped she was able to get across campus fast enough.

“I will be okay,” Dino grumbled from inside his pillow of arms. “May speak, uh, slowly. But it will be done.”

Vic looked to Dino and then slumped in her chair. She took a breath through her nose and out her mouth, her feet pressed hard into the carpeted floor.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, we’ll be fine.”

“Dino, Jessica and Vic,” the tutor called and Vic grimaced.

By the end of their tutorial, Jess had scampered off to catch her bus home and Dino and Vic had chosen a sunny patch of grass by the Macquarie University's lake to wallow on. Vic was laid out on her back, her limbs still throbbing with nerves after public speaking adlib with Jess coming not ten, but fifteen minutes late to class.

Vic was sure she had covered the same point twice with multiple stutters and ‘uh’s.

“That sucked,” Vic whined loudly.

Dino appeared in her peripheral, sat at her side, and gave a weak smile of agreement. Vic had no idea what he was talking about. Despite his loose hold on English - that was only getting better, she kept reminding him - he had spoken with some kind of damning confidence in his voice that made Vic want to kick him in the shins for making her think he was going to all but faint on her. He spoke like he was used to presenting to groups of people! The bastard!

Vic frowned at him severely, before rolling over in the grass and burying her face in her backpack.

“I believe we- we did very well!” Dino assured and Vic huffed when he gave her a pat on the back. Then under his breath she heard him whisper, “How are you not sweaty?”

“Not everyone had pores like a waterfall,” Vic answered before turning her head and asked, “And what the fuck Dino? You were acting like you were going to die when we got up to speak but as soon as we got that slide up you might have well have been Steve fucking Jobs releasing the new iPhone!”

Dino blinked, and then he curled in on himself. His ears flushed red and Vic had the sudden and intense urge to ask if he had put sunscreen on them today.

“I, uh, hesitated a lot.”

“No more than I fucking did,” Vic pointed out, “And dude your projection. The teacher had to ask Jess to speak up -- and asked me to slow down. Your pacing was spot on!”

Once again, Dino ducked his head and Vic was reminded of Enzo recoiling back after bumping into her thermos during a study session.

“You know what? Fuck it, you’re helping me with my public speaking skills from now on. You could sell water to a drowning man.” Vic demanded, before reaching out and poking at Dino’s cargo shorts’ pocket. “Now, release the baby.”

Dino laughed and unpacked Enzo from his pocket, the little turtle stubbornly hiding in his shell even when he was placed on the grass between them, safely in Dino’s shadow. Vic grinned and rolled over to her side, cooing happily as the presence of Enzo soothed her academically injured soul.

“Hello! Oh hello,” Vic chirped, a complete one-eighty flip from the grumpy, huffy mood she had been in before. “He’s not coming out.”

“Too much sun,” Dino offered, gesturing to the heat that bathed the whole lake despite the students that spotted the valley.

Vic hummed, it didn’t feel too hot to her. But then again, Enzo had spent most of his life in Italy with Dino. Then she poked Enzo’s shell and saw an eye peeking out at her in great disgruntlement.

“Wait,” Vic sat up and stared at the lake. “Wait, he's a turtle, he can go in the lake! A nice swimmy!”

Dino’s head snapped around.

“After being in your stuffy-ass pocket, a good swim must be exactly what he needs!” Vic insisted, grinning with teeth again.

Dino snatched Enzo up off the ground before Vic could grab him, a nervous smile on his face and a whole new sheet of sweat going down his neck.

“No! No, uh, Enzo is a- a saltwater turtle! I do not know if the lake water will agree with him.”

Vic paused. Fuck he was right. She winced and scratched the back of her head, feeling bits of grass and leaves come out.

“Right, sorry, didn’t think about that.”

God that was a dick move. What was she going to do, grab someone’s emotional support turtle and dump it wherever? Think it through Vic!

“It is okay,” Dino assured, and Vic nearly jumped when he touched her arm -- wow, his hand was moist. “It wouldn’t have hurt him. Enzo is a strong boy.”

Then he reached across and gently placed Enzo in her lap, still once again in his shadow.

“I don’t think he is liking how warm I am,” Dino laughed.

Vic looked down at Enzo in her lap, then to Dino’s open face. She tucked her chin into her chest and bit down on her smile.

Vic spun and flopped back onto her back with a huff, relaxing all over as she lay in the sun. On her stomach, she felt Enzo shuffle around until he settled on the soft, pillowy space of her stomach.

Dino reached into his pocket and fed the still-hiding Enzo a pellet at a time.

“So, what were you even doing for the whole night?” Vic asked.

Dino shrugged, “Uh, I’ve been investigating. Learning about horse racing, and dealing with some Family issues.”

Vic hummed lowly, “You’re really keen on that racing idea.”

Dino smiled, and leant back on his hands, voice quiet as he said, “If we can race again…It may save my Family.”

Vic blinked, then tilted her head as she observed him. Vic had only known Dino for little over just a month now, but she felt like she had a loose, if not a reasonable, grasp on one of Dino’s core values: Family.

To Dino, family always comes first. In fact, most of their conversations had at some point turned to family. Dino, at this point, could list off all of Vic’s cousins, aunts and uncles, and Vic was sure she would have to fight Romario for adoption rights.

The ‘Dino Adoption’ debate had become a rather hot topic in the Hunt Houses, a split between factions: To-Adopt, and Not-To-Adopt. Not-To-Adopt was dwindling in numbers, however, with every Dino or University-centric rant Vic sent home. Robbie’s crown was slipping, and Vic’s mum had started a guest bedroom Pinterest inspo-board.

Vic, her mum and her grandma had been steadfastly ignoring Robbie’s screaming voice messages that ‘we don’t even have a spare room!’

Her dad had always liked carpentry, Vic was sure he’d come up with something. He was always rather smart with his hands — something Vic’s mum liked to sing praises of until someone begged her to shut up over a sea of gagging children. Maybe he’d build a barnyard style granny-flat. Speaking of barns—

“So, like, you’ve been breeding horses for years. You got any cute ones? Like, ones that are fluffy?”

Vic felt like she had at least a loose grip on Dino, and nothing got ‘horse girl’ Dino talking like his horses. Only ask for photos if you’ve got the next few hours free. Dino’s Econ tutorial had been cancelled, they had the whole day.

The things Vic did to keep her soon-to-be-adopted Dino happy.

Dino was already fumbling for his phone by the time Vic had uttered the words ‘fluffy’.

“We have this Przewalski Mongolian! Ah! Beautiful coat! So good to brush, and when she’s freshly bathed!?”

Dino turned his phone and Vic wheezed at the horse, covered in thick packed fuzz and fur.

“Oh God, hugging that? Fuckin’ bliss,” Vic all but swooned. “I wanna be squished between two.”

Then she paused, sat up and squinted at the corner of Dino’s screen.

“Gimme that.” Vic took Dino’s phone despite the squawk of alarm and zoomed out to see what Dino had tried to hide.

In the background of the photo was an early highschool-aged Dino, sporting braces on his teeth and several bandaids all over, and being dragged by the waist of his pants by some huge stallion. The panic and flurry of multiple stablehands and Romario himself attempting to save Dino, a direct contrast to the peaceful grazing of the Mongolian in the foreground.

Vic snorted before wheezing out her whole lung capacity. Enzo gave a disgruntled click and slipped off Vic’s jumping stomach as she continued to laugh, only fuelled by Dino’s betrayed and indignant babbling.

Dino lept to take his phone back, but their squabble of hands shifted and zoomed until baby-Dino’s face, crumpled and folded in unflattering fear, took up the screen. Vic doubled over again, cackling with belly and teeth.

Dino huffed as he stole back his phone and moved the picture on screen safely back into his camera roll. He crossed his arms and waited for Vic to be done.

She took a huge breath, glanced at Dino's face, and then promptly let out another belt of laughter.

“It was not that funny!” Dino scolded, helping Enzo up into his lap.

“It was!” Vic gasped, and Dino gave her a smack on the arm.

“Ah! Abuse! In front of the child!”

“Enzo has seen worse.”

“No, my baby,” Vic cried quietly, and rolled over to mourn the sweet turtle’s lost innocence.

Dino huffed and shifted on the spot, phone in his hands.

“...We also have a new Haflinger foal,” he said and, this time with an iron grip on his phone, showed Vic the knobbly-kneed foal beside its mother.

Vic snorted and settled down in the sunbathed grass to be once again regaled of the Cavallone’s prized herd. As always, Dino spoke rapidly. Stumbling over words, ‘ahs’ and ‘ums’, repetition and mistakes not slowing him down in the least as he raved about the last Spring’s yield of four new foals. What Vic couldn’t understand through a thick accent or patchy English-Italian half-words, Vic could fill in with the side gestures Dino made. Vic had heard that Italians spoke with their hands, and Dino was only supporting that stereotype as he drew the shape of a massive mare.

“Nearly two me’s!” Dino exclaimed.

Vic imagined a horse that stood well over her own height and immediately felt the need to climb on one. She’d never ridden a horse before, but surely you just, like, clamber up and hold on for dear life.

Dino’s great tale was interrupted, however, when a shrill, aghast voice cut through the afternoon.

“ What the fuck is that!? ”

Dino’s head snapped around and Vic sat up as she saw a girl break off from her group and come storming over. The rest of her group were calling out to her, one of them tried to grab her by her bag.

Vic blinked slowly as the girl came to a stop at Dino’s side, her hackles raised with some kind of righteous anger in her eyes.

Vic glanced to Dino and asked, “Ah, this your ex or something?”

Dino looked to Vic with wild confusion, “I do not know, I-”

“This is illegal!” The girl snapped and Dino let out a yelp as her hand lashed out and scooped up the still-tucked Enzo.

In an instant, that warm calm that had utterly steeped Vic’s body flushed out.

“Oi!” Vic bellowed and sprung to her feet, fists clenched. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

A hot anger boiled in Vic’s blood, Dino’s horror-struck expression only fueling it as he tried to organise himself and ask for Enzo back.

“This!” The girl shouted again, shoving Enzo in Vic’s face, and then Dino’s. “Is an incredibly invasive species! It is illegal to have a Red Eared Slider turtle in Australia!”

“He’s not a Red Slider, you fuck!” Vic seethed, “Enzo’s a Sponge turtle!”

“Look at this shell-”

“Look at his fucking face! ”

“It's invasive!”

“He’s the wrong fucking species! ” Vic shouted and went to grab Enzo back.

The girl backed out of reach and held Enzo to her chest, loud, angry clicking coming from inside his shell.

“Red Eared Sliders are aggressive and utterly destroy Australia’s natural freshwater habitats! It needs to be handed over to RSPCA so they can ship it out or put it down!”

Dino gave a sharp gasp of alarm and Vic saw red.

The hold she had on her temper snapped like a thread pulled taut and with heat in her skin, she lunged forward. Vic went at the girl with nails and elbows. She swiped and poor Enzo went flying in a direction she blindly hoped was Dino’s, a soft ‘aaaaaaaaaaa’ emitting from the shell as it disappeared from her tunnel vision.

The girl screamed as Vic got her hands on her, and threw her whole body weight to send the girl head over heels. She hit the water with an almighty splash, and a flock of ducks noisily took flight.

Vic breathed ragged through her teeth, fists clenched. Her temper, white-hot and utterly boiling her blood, was only slightly settled by the sight of the shell-shocked girl sitting, drenched in the lake.

“Who’s the fucking ‘invasive species’ now, bitch!?” Vic bellowed.

"Got to go, got to go!" Dino chanted near hysterically as he grabbed Vic by her arm and started running.

Vic with gritted teeth and tense shoulders, let Dino drag her across the field and towards the Village. She huffed when she nearly crashed into Dino’s back as he came to a sudden, slow walk. Dino, casually, innocently, walked with Vic passed Campus Security as they sailed passed in their little golf carts.

Vic snorted through her nose and gave Dino’s back a scrutinising look but couldn’t be bothered to see past her own heat haze.

The gates of the Village came into view and Vic stormed forward, taking heavy, stomped footsteps all the way through to her shitty five-bedroom dormhouse, with her shitty roommates, who didn’t respect her fucking personal space-!

Vic hit her bed facedown. Calm down, calm down, calm fucking down!

Faintly, in the far back of her awareness, Vic heard Dino sit in her creaking desk chair and the thump of him dropping their bags. Dino was such a good boy - what was he doing when Enzo was taken she didn’t look - he was so nice and warm - he walked passed the security didn’t even flinch knew what to do-

Vic rolled onto her back and took a breath in through her nose and out her mouth. In and out, in and out. That girl had said to put Enzo down. Dino’s support animal, someone he took everywhere with him no matter what - Dino needed Enzo and that girl said ‘put down’.

Vic took another breath in. She clenched her fists. A breath out and clenched her forearms- Why wasn’t it working-

There was a roar in her ears, a thundering thump in her chest.

Then a weight dropped on her stomach, just substantial enough that Vic started out of her rambling spiral. Vic lifted her head and craned her neck, Enzo’s big, beady eyes stared back up at her.

Enzo looked around slowly, before his feet popped out from his shell and, slowly, he plodded up to find a comfortable place on Vic’s chest.

Just behind Enzo, Vic could see Dino, his hands still outstretched from where he had dropped Enzo on her.

Dino smiled a bit, an awkward, lopsided thing, and said, “Enzo, he, uh, helps me be calm.”

Vic blinked, before she let out a puff of breath. She dropped her head back and used Enzo’s weight to try and sink that rising heat. She felt that familiar rumble in her chest swell and grow, and she let it out in a long, gaping yawn.

Vic hated getting angry, she was always tired afterwards.

Vic sniffed and scratched her cheek, her body heavy right down to the core like her bones were waterlogged.

“You wanna eat somethin’?” Vic asked.

Dino paused, startled, before he lowered himself to sit on the edge of Vic’s bed and said, “Yeah, what would you like?”

“Chicken nuggets. So many chicken nuggets.”

☁ ☁ ☁

Greasy wrappers and stray grains of salt littered the foot of Vic’s bed as the two of them sat up against the wall, Vic’s phone playing music in the background. Dino heaved as he slumped against the wall. He had eaten an obscene amount of nuggets and sweet and sour sauce.

Vic, somehow, was still going. 40 chicken nuggets, and so far 17 of them were sitting in the seemingly bottomless chasm of Vic’s belly.

Dino slurped on his cola as Vic, unflinchingly, ate her 18th and reached for another.

“How’s Enzo?” Vic asked through half a mouthful of nugget.

Dino looked to the turtle that, more or less, had put them into hiding for the foreseeable future — or at least until the blurry video of ‘bodily yeeting entitled Karen into lake’ stopped popping up on Dino’s feed every time he refreshed it. It had become a meme template. The speed of the internet was terrifying.

Vic, hearing the grainy sound of her own voice hollering “Who’s the fucking ‘invasive species’ now, bitch!?” shoved her 20th nugget into her mouth.

Dino winced and closed his phone.

“Enzo is fine. I told you, he is hardy.”

Vic grumbled and reached to pet Enzo, who paused his munching on a bag of mixed leaves Vic had pulled from a cooler - an ‘esky’ - in the corner of her room. There were three, all stacked on each other and full of chilled foodstuffs.

Dino glanced at Vic and saw the 24th nugget disappear. He had already seen a fridge in the shared kitchen on the way up to the room. Now, maybe, wasn’t the best time to ask.

Nonetheless, Dino stored it in his memory, another conversation starter!

Vic’s phone suddenly stopped playing music, and the screen flipped to an incoming call. Vic sighed and shoved her last nugget in her mouth before answering the call from ‘Robbie’.

“What?” She asked, muffled around her chicken nugget.

Dino took another sip of his drink as Vic leant her head on his shoulder.

Casual touch. Dino hadn't experienced that in… Weeks. It had only just dawned on him how much he had missed it after leaving home.

Dino shifted a bit to make sure he was comfortable - both for him and Vic. He almost felt like someone priming their lap with blankets, hoping the family cat would choose them for the foreseeable hours.

Dino's rather cosy trail of thought was interrupted by the caller on Vic's phone.

“You fucking threw someone into a lake!?” Robbie screeched from the other side of the phone.

Vic made a lazy, noncommittal noise as she slowly chewed, completely unhurried by the state her brother was apparently in.

“Vicky, I thought you were over this!”

Vic proceeded to mutter something vaguely mocking through her chewing. Dino snorted a bit despite how he tried to send her a scolding look. Vic ignored him.

“Jesus Christ, Vicky- Why’d you even do it!?”

Vic took a sip of her frozen coke and simply said, “Bitch tried to take Dino’s turtle.”

There was a faint bang, and then a distinctly loud bang. Then came the scream of Robbie being tackled and the fight for the phone.

“Bitch did what to Enzo!?”

Dino glanced to Vic. He had been wondering where she had sent all those turtle pictures — evidently, a good bulk had gone to Bec, her cousin.

“Crazy cunt fucking stole Enzo out of Dino’s lap like he was a Woolies apple and started going on about ‘invasive species’ and ‘putting him down’ and like fuck was I gonna let her talk shit like that!” Vic ranted, waving her cup at the far window like her cousin was standing before them.

There was a pause, before there was a chorus of approval in the background. At least four voices all chipped in with their opinions and Dino was hit with the sudden realisation that there was a roomful of Hunts on the other end of that line.

“You should have thrown her deeper, Vicky!”

“Strengthen those little chicken wings! You’ve gotta start going to the gym!”

“Don’t support this!” Robbie yelled over the cheering and was met with a round of ‘boo’s.

“Oi, we always back family! Even if they’re doing something kinda stupid — we always back our family!”

Dino stared down at the bubbles patterning the sides of his waxed paper cup. Family always backs each other.

“Dino and Enzo are my babies, I’m not letting some half-cocked bitch make ‘em sad,” Vic scoffed and wrapped an arm around him — tipping a bit of ice down the back of his shirt as she did. Not entirely by accident, if Vic’s snicker meant anything as he frantically tried to get it out.

As Dino finally got the last of the ice out from the waist of his pants, Dino saw Vic grin up at him with the usual amount of teeth. He huffed and couldn’t resist smiling back at her.

Romario was going to be so proud of him. Everyone was going to be proud of him!

Family backs each other, even in their riskiest of endeavours.

“If you wanna adopt the bastard, you’ve gotta stop being violent in public!”

There were jeers and the bellowing of a crowd of people and Vic slipped off Dino’s shoulder and back onto her bed, phone pressed to her ear.

Dino looked down at Vic as she listened to her family through the phone. She looked the most relaxed he had seen her in — probably ever. Distinctly, it wasn't that strange, almost sedated calm that followed Vic around usually. This calm was the most human he had seen, the most natural.

Dino looked down at Vic, who laid with her eyes closed and her family screaming in her ear, and found himself wondering what kind of Flame she had hidden dormant.

Then, there was a loud crash from Vic's phone and the line went dead, someone had obviously slapped the end button with their elbow or face in the scuffle. Vic scoffed as the music on her phone resumed and she let it drop to the side of the pillow, already pawing around for her frozen coke.

Dino watched her fingertips graze the edge, collecting droplets of perspiration. He nudged it slightly further out of reach.

"Cunt," Vic hissed and Dino laughed as she uncoordinatedly smacked the side of her calf against his head.

Vic gave a heave of great effort and distress as she rolled onto her belly, finally grasping her slushy drink in hand. She took a long slurp before she craned her neck to look at Enzo, only his little tail visible as he dug deeper into the pile of leafy greens.

"I will not be able to bring Enzo out of my pocket for a time," Dino sighed and saw Vic blow disgruntled bubbles into her slushy.

"Yeah," she bit out, keeping whatever loaded rant she had shoved deep away.

Dino smiled weakly and took another drink of his cola, a loud, empty slurp that rattled the straw. Then Dino looked around at Vic's room, the cramped desk, the stacked eskys.

"If you want," Dino started and leant back on a hand, trying to be nonchalant-

Vic's body pillow didn't take his weight and Dino gave a gurgled yelp as his arm gave way and he fell. His head connected painfully with Vic's bony knees, Vic gave a gasp of pain and Dino clutched his head.

Soon, the two of them sat on the bed, two young adults curled up in groaning pain.

"What the fuck, Dino?" Vic wheezed, holding her knees as they throbbed.

"Sorry," Dino whined as the beginnings of a headache settled deep in his right temple. "I wanted to ask you if you would like to meet at my house. Enzo cannot meet you outside for a while."

Vic massaged her knees before she kicked Dino in the side.

“Fucking oath I am! Thought that was a fucking given!”

Dino winced as Vic kicked him in the side again, before, tentatively, Dino lightly thumped his foot against the back of Vic’s thigh. There was a distinct, fleshy ‘thwap’.

A pause hung in the air, and Dino had the familiar sensation of social-faux-pas-dread settle in the bottom of his stomach—

Dino heard something akin to an elated warcry from the other end of the bed, and all seventy kilos of Vic’s weight came crashing down on him, twenty-four nuggets and all. Dino wheezed and the two became a brawling wrangle of slapping hands and kicking feet, all up until Vic rolled and kicked Dino off the side of the bed.

Dino shrieked and clawed at the sheets until he went tumbling, shoulders-first to the floor. He gasped, splayed out on his back on the dorm’s musty carpet and stared up at Vic’s ceiling, dotted with weird marks.

Vic’s face appeared from over the edge, a smug, vindictive curl to her grin.

“Cunt,” she said.

Dino grabbed his cup, sloshing with half-melted ice cubes, and grabbed Vic by her beloved oversized band-tee and dumped it.

Vic shrieked and Dino couldn’t help the belly-deep cackling that burst out as he watched Vic frantically scoop at her bra under her shirt.

☁ ☁ ☁

It had taken a bit over ten days and several nervous breakdowns, cushioned by either Enzo or Vic, but Dino felt like he was ready to call for a Family Meeting of the Cavallone. Or, well, he wasn’t seconds away from cardiac arrest at the thought of it, now.

Dino wheezed a bit. Now, he just needed to get in contact with Romario and set it up.

Dino reached for his phone. He hadn’t tried to contact home in a while. Between university, Vic, races, and his bi-weekly laying-on-the-floor-in-crisis time, Dino hadn’t had the chance to call home in…nearly six weeks now! Going on seven! They were fresh into April, nearly mid-semester break, and Dino hadn’t called since February.

This was probably, no, definitely, the longest Dino hadn’t gone without contact with the Cavallone.

Seeing Vic listening to her family, had reminded Dino of just how much he missed them. Dino just wondered if anyone would pick up, or if Reborn’s contact-ban was still in place.

Dino withered and dialled Romario’s quick-dial, and uttered a short prayer. It rang once, twice—

“Boss!”

Dino suddenly understood why Vic had just laid down and listened. He could hear so much through the phone. Familiar songbirds, the chatter of Cavallone stablehands and the bray of horses. Suddenly, Dino was hit with the smell of the stables in early Spring; the fresh sand and straw they laid on the muddy ground, the lavender and wild rosemary that grew outside, the sweat and manure.

Dino wanted to be like Vic and just curl up on his side and listen.

“Boss! How have you been!?” Romario asked and Dino heard the clammer and cacophony of news in the background: the Boss had finally called home.

God, Dino had missed the sound of Italian; a good Sicilian accent.

“I’m fine, Romario. I’ve still got all my fingers and toes,” Dino assured with a laugh. “I’ve got some killer tanlines, though.”

“Good! After your exams you were far too pasty looking!”

Dino rolled his eyes, this wasn’t the first time Romario had feared a potential vitamin-D deficiency.

“So, tell me, what have you been up to?” Romario urged, and Din could just imagine him leant up against the gates of the stables in his singlet and jeans.

Dino relaxed into the couch, Enzo snoozed in his luggage-enclosure.

“Class is hard,” Dino admitted, “I’ve gotta use Google translate and listen to lectures twice as long. If I didn’t have Vic to help me, I would have absolutely bombed on the vocabulary mini-test!”

At some point, the update had turned into Dino’s whinging time - but could you really blame him? For months, Dino had been left to flail alone in this strange country, and he didn’t even have the English skills to vent properly to his one friend—

“I’ve-!” Dino started loudly, a rush of pride returning when he remembered his shining achievement. “I’ve made a friend!”

There was a beat of silence, before someone far away gasped, “ What?”

“I’ve made a friend!” Dino repeated, “Her name’s Vic!”

“A woman!?”

“She’s really nice! She loves Enzo! She threw someone in the lake for us! And she bought us chicken nuggets!”

Dino grinned as he regaled Romario and their menagerie of eavesdroppers about the many adventures he had been on with Vic around the university and to the nearby shopping centres.

Dino decided to omit the part where he got lost in the Kmart homewares section, and had to go to the front desk so they could call for Vic over the announcement system. ‘Attention customers, could 'Vic Hunt' please come to the front of the store to collect your…child?’ was still engraved in Dino’s head, along with the stares from the staff. Vic had all but run through the store to get him. By then, Dino had been offered a snake-shaped lolly, half of which Vic stole, and held his hand the rest of the shop so neither got lost in that department store maze.

Instead, Dino moved onto how he and Vic met almost daily to study and chat, and how she liked to listen about the horses — Dino nearly flung himself off the couch when he snapped up, suddenly reminded of what this phone call was about.

“Romario,” Dino said and heard the excited chatter fall silent at his tone. “I want to call a Family Meeting.”

Romario’s shift was immediate.

“What for, Boss?”

Dino could hear him move away from the stable and the working hands.

“I’ve been thinking about the state of the Family and the few resources we have. Being so far from home has, well, it’s given me a new perspective.” Dino said slowly, knowing he was about to broach a sensitive subject. “The Cavallone need to use our horses again. The Cavallone need to race again.”

Romario took a sharp, hissed breath in through his teeth. Racing was taboo.

“Boss,” he began shakily, like some part of him expected the ghost of the Eight Boss to enact vengeance upon them. “The Cavallone have been banned for nearly one hundred years!”

“In Italy,” Dino pointed out, looking down at the list of races all around the world. “And only in Mafia circles.”

“You want to race civilians?” Romario asked, the disbelief clear in his voice. “Our Cavallone horses, against civilians? ”

“Yes,” Dino responded, “Our horses. Our… untrained horses.” Dino suddenly felt that cardiac arrest creeping up again. “We need money. Racing is lucrative.”

He gripped his trousers until his knuckles were white. “Please, Romario.” Dino’s voice was quiet in the empty, dark living room. “I believe this will work. I believe this, our horses, can save our Family.”

Romario was silent.

Dino let him work through his thoughts. He knew he was asking for a lot, and for Romario to stick his neck out for Dino. Romario was the one who would have to act as proxy and call everyone to the Meeting, and in doing so, show complete faith in Dino’s plan.

Romario’s voice came through the speaker. “Very well, Boss. I’ll organise the Meeting. Will tomorrow suit you?”

A relieved smile broke out on Dino's face. “Whenever. We’ll have to work with timezones, anyway.”

“Ten hours, right? I will see what I can do.”

Dino let out a long sigh, feeling nearly lightheaded. “Thank you, Romario.”

“Of course, Boss,” Romario hummed, “Get some rest, it must be late.”

Dino looked at his clock, 2AM. He needed to go to sleep, he had class at 10AM.

“Boss, you should send us photos now that we can talk again. Is Australia really all just desert and city?”

“What? No, there’s plenty of greenery and water here!” Dino laughed, “But it’s hot. A different hot to home. Vic has been busy making sure I don’t get heat stroke.”

“Sounds nice, it’s still cold here. But by the time you’re home, it’ll be warm. You come at the end of your semester, right? June?”

“Yeah, June to August, Winter break. Vic will be miserable, she loves warmth. Like a lizard.”

Romario laughed and Dino let himself flop across his couch. They had just said Dino should have gone to bed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to hang up. Not after so long without his Family.

“So your friend, Vic, is she a local?”

“Yeah, Vic’s from Australia,” Dino hummed, and grabbed a pillow to cuddle, sleep beginning to press against the back of his eyes. “She says she was born around here, actually. But her family has moved to, uh, Castle-something. Has a new baby cousin she wants to see.”

“And you said she’s been keeping you alive,” Romario chuckled and Dino gave some kind of senseless whine of indignation.

“Only- Kinda, yeah, but like, leave me alone maybe?” Dino grumbled, before rolling over on the couch, “How’s everyone at home doing?”

Dino cuddled into the throw pillow and listened as Romario recited the usual reports on the comings and goings of the Cavallone estate. It was the usual chaos, with a bit of a curve ball thrown in with the Boss away. But Romario, as usual, managed to wrangle everything under control, especially with the Stable Master acting as the Cavallone regent.

They were still receiving their local import of barley and hay at a steady pace, and the farmers had offered a ‘loyalty perk’ after generations of working together. Dino nearly teared up as he heard how they had reduced their prices by 10%. He made sure to make Romario write down the family name of every farmer, the Cavallone would always be loyal to them.

The Ninth’s Guardians were still responding to messages, but only enough to assure that they weren’t dead. Even then, only Croix was handling correspondence. Really, the only evidence that the rest of the Guardians were still around was Croix’s word and the Cavallone delivery boys that dropped off supplies to them. Getting them out to the Family Meeting was probably going to be the hardest, they hardly left the Ranch anymore.

Dino frowned and clutched his pillow. He had been worried about his uncles. Losing a Sky was never easy, and Guardians could only outlive their Harmony with so much grace.

One of the younger Cavallone wards had finally been able to manifest a Flame expression. Though, it was scratching some heads with its Frequency. It was probably just a weird expression, maybe some kind of strong Secondary coming through. They hoped the kid settled down soon, it was causing their carers concern.

Well that was concerning, Dino hummed and sleepily instructed that the child would be put under watch.

Brutus got bit on the ass by a mule that morning. It was his own fault, he should have known better than to be off-guard in the presence of one of the biters. The Stablehands had a good laugh out of it and everyone had a good look at the pattern on his boxers.

Dino snorted and relaxed, listening as the accounts became less and less important, Romario’s reports devolving into mindless updates on the little things Dino missed around the place in the time he was gone. He closed his eyes and opened his ears to the sound of Romario and that far off island of Sicily he so missed.

The next morning, Dino received the notification for the Family Meeting’s appointed time: 8PM. 10AM on the Italian’s side.

He spent the time between classes preparing, making notes, practising his delivery. Anything to get rid of the shake in his knees and the quiver in his voice. Vic had noticed and had offered Dino a sympathetic hiss when she had heard the abridged summary.

“Hey,” she said, giving Dino a gentle shove with her elbow. “If you want, I’ll drop by after the call? We can hang out, get some food?”

Then she had bought him something sweet from the student cafe to perk him up before they parted ways. Dino was always grateful that he managed to make a friend all the way out here.

Dino nibbled on the frankly monstrously-sized cookie as he went about setting up his computer and space, trying to hold his treat in a way that wouldn’t melt the choc chips. He moved a bag of takeaway wrappers out from behind his couch and finally made the trip to the bin, taking a few wrappers and packages of assorted socks.

He fluffed the couch’s throw pillows and quickly brought that random, dying succulent to the back porch. He was in the middle of gently encouraging the fake Monstera plant to sit right when the chime for the meeting rang out.

Dino gasped and vaulted for the couch, completely overshooting it and slamming face-first into the narrow space between the couch and coffee table.

“Good to see the boy hasn’t changed.”

Dino’s face went red and he began his squirming crawl to try and get his feet out of the air and back under him.

“I thought you gave up trying to do handstands when you were little Dino!” Came that teasing, smoker-rough voice and Dino finally flipped himself right-side up.

“I wasn’t trying to do a handstand, Uncle Croix!”

The Rain Guardian to the late Ninth Cavallone and Dino’s Uncle in every sense but blood grinned at him through the screen. He was a jovial man that was going well grey, with a short-boxed beard lining framing his jaw and crows feet pinching the corners of his eyes.

“Young Romario tells me you’ve been good and roasted down there in Australia! Remember to keep away from the sun, or you’ll end up looking like Anvil, all patchy and leather skinned!” Croix powered on and Dino resisted the urge to sink into his chair, knowing that once Croix was rolling, nothing short of an all out gunfight could stop him.

“Let the boy talk, Croy,” the Stablemaster groused, and Dino looked to the second panel where the rest of the Meeting’s attendants sat.

The Stablemaster, the Vault Keeper, the Head of Housekeeping, and Romario all sat around the one board table they had left, and were turned in their seats to face him. The Vault Keeper sat there, nearly unmoving. If it weren’t for the rest of the room, Dino would have thought the camera was frozen.

Dino started to sweat. The last time he had seen all these faces at once, his father had been a cooling body in the next room.

“Whenever you’re ready, Boss, we can begin,” Romario urged, and Dino snapped to attention.

“Right,” he said, and looked at his notes just to the side of the computer, written on a little notepad.

Vic at some point had drawn a small dick on the corner of the first hundred or so pages. Up until literally just now, Dino had thought it was a lop-sided heart.

Dino let out a short snort. He took a breath, and with Vic’s supportive presence in the form of a collection of penned dicks, he began.

“I believe it is safe to say that we are all aware of the state of the Cavallone,” there was a grumble of consensus. “We are sinking, with the last of our furniture reaching their final bid, we have no way of keeping up with the debt.”

Romario winced, and the Stablemater frowned. Croix didn’t utter a sound, and watched through the screen with a solemn expression.

“At the rate we are going, our Cavallone will succumb to debt and be bankrupt within five years.” Five years. Dino would barely be twenty-three. “We need a way to stop this, our Family, from falling apart.”

Dino glanced at each face on his screen, “We need to race again.”

The Head of Housekeeping went pale. Croix shifted back in his chair, and the Stablemaster’s expression became utterly stormy.

Romario looked at Dino through the camera and nodded, as if to say, “go on.”

Dino pushed on, referring to his notes, and those little dicks, whenever he felt his resolve waver. He recalled the great success Cavallone horses flaunted during their golden age, referenced the sheer profits the Family had turned from racing, and how the Cavallone could enjoy the same today. Dino highlighted articles, winning and race purses, and the prestige that came with it. He pointed out budgeting, and plans, and week's worth of fervent research and study.

Dino pushed that all of this was within grasp. Outside of the thin borders of Italy. Outside of the influence of the Mafia. That the Cavallone’s retribution was there for the taking if they just reached for it.

Faces were grim.

The Vaultkeeper had turned her head away.

The Head of Housekeeping smiled like he was in pain. He probably was. He had been young, but he had been there during the reign of the Eighth. He had been there to watch him break.

“You want us to race?” The Stablemaster asked, gravel in his tone. “You want us to gamble away the last of the money keeping us afloat?”

Dino took a breath, “That money is time we bought ourselves by selling our history. Do you know what the other Families call us? A Family selling off their pride.”

“Pride will not pay out our debts-”

“In a starving house, pride is all we have left,” Dino rebutted, “Pride, and spite, and a vindictive Will to live. Is this not all we have left to heat our halls and till our fields, and feed our horses — who sit stagnant in their stables, because of men who were too weak to beat us!”

Dino sat straight, his shoulders squared and seethed.

“Since I was born, I have only heard smuggled whispers of the glory of the Cavallone horses. Our trophies sit in dusty, moulding boxes! Instead of taking us on fairly with dignity, they hide behind one another and slash at our ankles! Our right to race was just the tipping point, our trade with merchants and businesses have been undercut by the same hands! How long do we intend to cower at the echoes of the Eighth’s tantrums, and the descendants of tiny men!?”

The Stablemaster, everyone, had sat up at Dino’s tone, the furrow of his brow, the square of his shoulders. The Vault Keeper turned to Dino slowly.

Dino unclenched his jaw and breathed, long and slow, out through his nose.

“I know I’ve only been Don for not even a full year, and I know I am asking for more trust than I may deserve. But I believe that our horses are our key to survival. I am willing to bet on it.”

The Stablemaster narrowed his eyes, “What are you betting?”

Dino smiled.

“What is the Cavallone if not my life and head?”

Croix sat up sharply, “Dino!”

“If the Cavallone fail to pay off their debts, our ‘benefactors’ will expect to be paid in blood,” Dino frowned, “At least this way, you all can renounce the Cavallone name.”

“Like absolute hell would we let you take the fall!” Croix boomed, peeking his laptop’s microphone and leaving a static buzz.

Romario stood from his chair, “I cannot agree to those terms! Even if the Cavallone falls, I will not leave you, Boss.”

“Unless you have some secret Cavallone blood in your veins, you won’t be much of a prize,” Dino huffed, “But thank you.”

“Okay, I’m in,” the Stablemaster said, and Romario’s head snapped around.

“You can’t be serious! On those terms!?”

“No, dumbass, those terms are utter horseshit, but he’s proved his conviction. So I’ll bite,” the Stablemaster, the man who called all the final shots on the horses of the Cavallone and the only one who could undermine the Don, turned to look at Dino. “The Cavallone will go down kicking.”

The Vault Keeper turned her hooded head to Dino and said in a voice all raspy and old as ash, “Little Dino, we will never leave you to pay for the mistakes we did not help avoid. Do not say as much again.”

It was cold and scolding, like the distant aunt the Cavallone Vault Keeper was. The Keeper of the Cavallone’s treasures and secrets. She would have never left her station.

“Right,” Dino smiled, feeling warm to the core. “I meant no insult. But my argument still stands.”

The Vault Keeper looked to the Stablemaster, Head of Housekeeping and Romario. Croix sat silent in his chair.

“I’ve already said my stance,” the Stablemaster shrugged, “I’m in. The boy Boss knows what he wants, and he wants to race. So long as the horses are safe, I’m happy to let them out of their stables.”

Romario huffed as he dropped back into his chair, fixing his suit jacket, “I support the Boss’ plan to race.”

“It’s a risk,” the Head of Housekeeping said softly, “Keeping up the salaries of the house’s staff will be difficult.”

“Of course, we’ll cut back where we can to keep them paid,” Dino assured, and the man nodded. Dino had always made sure their staff was paid, it was one of the highest priorities. “I’m sure there are some functions on the estate that can be put on hold. Please, make a list of what you think can be done without, and we’ll work through cutting it.”

“...Very well,” he said, slightly ashen.

Dino gazed upon the man who had taught him to button his shirts, and cleaned up after him every time clumsy little Dino made a mess.

“When you get the chance, please, get those trophies out from the attic. They shouldn’t be hidden, let them be on display again, as they should be.”

The Head of Housekeeping blinked at Dino, before he smiled, his grey, wrinkled face softening.

“As you wish, Boss.”

The Vault Keeper sat still again, utterly unmoving. Then she sighed, nearly slumped over as she bowed under the weight of her decision.

“Little Dino, I hope you know what you’re getting us into. I never wanted you to become a gambler.”

“Just this once, I promise,” Dino smiled, “And a few more times after we win.”

‘After’. When, not if.

The Vault Keeper scoffed at Dino.

Then everyone turned their attention to the last man yet to speak: Croix, the Ninth Rain Guardian and representative of all the Cavallone Guardians. He sat there, seemingly staring through the screen and far away.

Dino clenched his fists on his knees out of frame of the camera. He hated seeing his zio like this. Guardians could only outlive their Harmony with so much grace.

“Uncle Croix?” Dino urged gently.

Croix’s clouded eyes lit up with awareness as he came back to himself. He glanced around the screen, taking in those faces that were looking at him expectantly. Dino smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring.

“Whatever you want to do, Dino, your uncles will support you,” Croix said, “I’ve never seen a Cavallone horse race, either. We are long overdue — just, don’t make betting your life a habit.”

Dino grinned sheepishly, and his heart felt bright.

“That said,” the Stablemaster interjected, and something in his tone made Dino’s stomach tighten. “If we’re going to do this, we do it properly, Boss.”

Dino nodded, “Of course, I don’t plan to do this half-cocked. As you allow, I’d like to use our best-performing horses.”

The best of the Cavallone’s prized herd. Their fastest, their most enduring.

The Stablemaster crossed his arms, lined with hair and thin scars.

“Then you’ll be asking for Glory.”

Dino’s smile went thin. He nodded.

“Yes, Glory is at the top of the list. She is our best horse.”

Romario glanced at Dino.

Croix lowered his eyes to his lap, his face carefully blank. Every breath he took was slow and measured.

“Understand me, Dino Cavallone, if you allow anything to happen, or treat her anyway less than she deserves, I will withdraw my support immediately,” the Stablemaster promised, his voice laced with warning.

Dino swallowed thickly. If the Stablemaster pulled out, everything Dino had worked for would come undone within hours. As soon as the Stablemaster called for it, every Cavallone horse would come home.

All for Glory.

For a moment, Dino remembered the thundering of hooves, the frantic screams, a sick bed, the stinging scent of antiseptic.

An empty bed, the sheets clean and pressed flat. The room utterly still.

Dino let out a long breath, and pushed aside those thoughts and the burn in the back of his throat.

“Of course, Stablemaster,” Dino said solemnly, purposefully. “I assure you, Glory will be safe and treated with the best care we can afford our horses moving forward.”

The Stablemaster stared at Dino, scrutinising him down to the bone. Then he nodded, one stiff, sure nod.

“On your head, Boss,” he said.

“On my head,” Dino agreed softly.

No one in the room spoke, the silence stretching and strangeling everyone on the call. Dino shook his head and sat up to address the Head of Housekeeping.

“Please organise that list on the estate budget cuts, and send it to me as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Boss,” the elderly man said.

“Vault Keeper, please keep an eye on our finances throughout. Alert us immediately if you notice something awry. We can’t allow for mistakes.”

“Very well,” she responded.

“Stablemaster, please compile a list of our best horses, and everything you believe they will need during and after transport.”

“It’ll be extensive, they're picky bastards.”

“I’m sure we can handle it,” Dino assured, “Romario, you will be my proxy, as always. Please help where you can and keep things running smoothly. We cannot let the other Families get wind of this.”

“Of course, Boss,” Romario nodded, and Dino nearly wheezed in relief.

Where would he be without Romario?

Then Dino looked to Croix, who sat watching the flurry with a look of… Nostalgia. Pride. Pain.

“Uncle Croix,” Dino said, and the man sat to attention like all those times the Ninth had called upon him. “Please watch out for yourself and my other uncles. I want you all in good health when we hold a Cavallone-style celebration.”

Croix blinked. Then he let out a booming laugh that Dino had heard throughout his childhood.

“Right! Right! Gotta get these beer bellies fitting back in their suits! Give us some time, won’t you, Dino? Don’t go winning too fast?”

“Bah, you’ll need to cut more than the beer to get back into your suits! Dino, you should budget their cheese, too!” The Stablemaster heckled, and Croix gasped hard enough to choke.

“My cheese is lite!”

“Light in colour maybe! I’ve seen you scarf that down!”

Dino laughed as Croix vehemently defended his ‘sampling’ of the local delicacies.

“It puts money back into the local economy!”

“But Croix,” the Head of Housekeeping uttered, a concerned and amused pinch to his brow that spoke of the years he had spent herding Croix and his fellow Set when they were just young men. “Didn’t you develop an intolerance to lactose recently? The doctor said as much.”

Croix thinned his lips and refused to respond.

The Meeting wound to a close, and everyone had their orders.

The Cavallone horses would race again, under the crest of their Tenth Generation.

Dino closed his laptop with a weary and utterly stressed sigh. He slumped back into his couch and scratched his nails through his hair.

He had done it. The first Family Meeting as Don, and he had actually done it! He had convinced the Family to go along with this stupid, ride-or-die plan! Jesus Christ, Dino needed a drink. He was craving Pepsi, the kind he had drunk with Vic.

A steady thump, thump, thump sounded through the walls, the bass beat made the floors vibrate. Dino glanced to his windows — one of his neighbours had a party going.

The clock on Dino’s phone glared that it was nearly 10PM. Dino yawned and stood from his divot in the couch, scanning the floor for where Enzo had crawled off to. Then he heard it.

A soft ‘clink, chunk’ and repeat.

Dino listened to the jangle and crunch, and let out a soft groan of, “Enzo, why me? I wanna go to sleep so badly!”

Enzo peered from around the bedroom doorway with a soft wheeze. Dino picked his phone from the table and typed up a text to Romario, taking a drink from his cup as he did. Someone was trying to break into Dino’s dormhouse.

Dino put aside his glass and scooped Enzo up off the floor as he made his way back to his bedroom, turning off the lights as he did. He closed his bedroom door and felt the faintest clunk as the latch fell into place and a jimmy-rigged security system swung into activity.

Dino had been tutored by Reborn, after all. He had to learn something from the PTSD.

Dino followed his bedtime routine. He changed into some light pyjamas, washed his slightly sweaty face, brushed his teeth and crawled into bed, Enzo cuddled up against his chest. Right over the heart.

Dino closed his eyes, let out a long breath and listened. The crunch of dried gum leaves out near the back porch. The metallic groan as someone mounted the porch railing. The soft, muffled crack of glass.

Dino continued to breathe, slow and unhurried. He needed his would-be hitman deeper in his house. Dino clutched the handle of his whip, coiled under the blankets with him.

Footsteps over the tile, and disappeared on the rug. Breath outside the bedroom door.

All Dino’s interior doors opened inwards. Dino had to wait.

The door unlatched. The person peered in through a crack. The tip of Dino’s whip caught them in the eye.

Dino untangled himself from his sheets, watching the man stumble back, clutching his face. Dino almost sympathised with the guy, he had been whipped in the eye more times than he — or Romario — could count.

The would-be assailant stumbled blindly, before giving a sharp gasp as he felt a tug at his clothes. Dino had learnt much from Reborn, and from personal experience, nothing threw someone off like having the threat of indecent exposure during an otherwise serious situation.

The man fumbled with his shredding pants, hooks and wires ripping and peeling at his suit, eyes red and watering.

Dino stood — and promptly planted his face into the hard weave of the floor rug. Dino groaned. He should have known this was going too well. He heaved himself to his feet, cradling his carpet-burnt nose.

The man pulled himself free from the last of the hooks, cameo-print briefs on display and belt clinging to the last scraps of a waistband.

Dino reeled his whip back and lashed it across the man’s bared thigh. It didn’t wrap around like Dino had hoped, but it made the man buckle to the floor with a muted gasp again.

He was being quiet. Being careful not to alert Dino’s neighbours. But the beat and thump of music from a few doors down told Dino that the majority of his neighbours were either too busy partying away the last hours of a Friday night, or trying to drown it out, to notice.

Better for him, honestly. The crack of a whip wasn’t exactly covert.

The man hissed between his teeth and pulled his weapon of choice from his pocket. Wire glinted and strained in his leather-gloved hands. He lunged, wire tight and Rino pulled his whip across his face.

He could hear the wire pluck at the leather of his whip, but it never bit through. Something birthed from Leon would never buckle that easily.

Dino gritted his teeth and kicked at the man’s knees. He went down with a sickening crack and his knees bowing like a bird’s.

The hitman threw something at Dino from the floor, and Dino swallowed a cry as some kind of powder, hot and irritating, coated his face. Dino pressed his lips and eyes shut, and didn’t dare to breathe, wiping his face with his shirt. Dino fumbled and kicked as he felt hands and wire reach for his ankles.

His face burnt, and Dino tasted something acrid and bitter on the tip of his tongue. Every one of his senses begged Dino to get it off, wash it off, do something.

Dino scrubbed at his lips and around his nose, desperate to breathe again. He charged forward, palming at the walls and feeling the way to the bathroom. Something pulled at Dino’s ankles, the sound of wire pulled taut and a small, sharp pain was his only warning before Dino went toppling into the living room.

His shoulder crashed into the coffee table and the cup Dino had left to ‘future him’ tipped over and splashed directly into his face. Dino sputtered and spat, before finally taking a sweet, lungful of air. He could still taste the remnants of that powder, but he could breathe. Dino palmed at the tabletop and wiped his face with the pooled water.

He peered an eye open, and immediately felt the tear-inducing burn. He gritted his teeth and bore it as the blurry figure of his hitman crawled its way towards Dino.

Dino scrambled to his feet and grabbed his whip.

The man lunged, sprung from his one good leg. He caught Dino around the middle and the two crashed into the wall console, the dying pot plant dropped and shattered on the carpet.

Dino struggled as the man tried to press his wire against Dino’s throat. Dino kicked his knee again and felt the bone move under his toes. The man reeled back, mouth agape in a silent scream.

Dino wrapped his whip around the man’s throat and yanked tight.

#fanfiction #khr #leftnotright #ao3 #katekyo hitman reborn #dino cavallone #oc #canon divergence #alternate universe

7 notes · View notes

doegred-main · 7 years ago

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If you could possess one single object that appears in the Silm/hobbit/Lotr/HoME, which one would it be? Here I am torn: on one hand I’d love to have the Palantìr to comunicate with others and see ahead during travels. On the other hand: the Silmaril would be an awesome energy source and scientific conundrum. Probably I would “settle” for a Silmaril. There are a lot of things you can do with a black body, even though I fear I would not like the “moral radar” placed on it by Varda at all.

As a mortal man arriving in Beleriand during the first age, would you have trusted the Eldar? I would have been incredibly fascinated and probably I would have given an arm and a leg to learn their technology, still I would have been very wary of their cultural perspective. At least of the one of the “very good guys”. I would have guessed that all the Noldor and Northern Sindar, were serious about defeating Melkor, but even in the best case scenario I would have seen a lot of possible problems arising from the afterward of a victory. A well respected vassal is still a vassal, especially when it is substituting its culture for the one of a more powerful people that claims to have seen and know more than any of my people could ever experience in their lifetime. I would have probably advocated for lending help to the Noldor in the war against Morgoth, quite vehemently once seen the situation in Beleriand and the Amlach scheme, but beyond that I would have guessed that even a victory would have meant an uncertain future for my kind and kept rather wary of them all.

You are on a long errand and eventually find yourself in Lothlorien. Before you leave, you are given to choose between Miruvor or lambas bread. Which one do you take with you? Miruvoir, naturally! Even uncooked root vegetables taste better if you wash them out with great booze!

Any opinion about the “petty-dwarves” and the way they were treated in Beleriand? The Petty Dwarves are a people that I feel a lot of sympathy for; they are the lowest of the low, the ones anyone feels entitled and justified to mistreat, thus I cannot help being rather fond of them despite their glaringly obvious flaws. I think that their position shows the ugly side of Khazad society. The dwarves are secretive and clannish, which leaves their exiled individuals (wether they are scapegoats or have definitely earned their punishment) without any help in the outside world, especially a feudal world like Beleriand. I think the history of the petty dwarves is very poignant because it is the story of the oppressed that aren’t “perfect” and “blameless”, it is the history of “guilty” people punished horribly and persecuted, left to be used by anyone as the convenient “victim”, to the point that the punishment itself ended up making them much worse than they were. Which only makes the petty dwarves more realistic and all the more worthy of a sympathy they will never be given in a world of moral absolutes like Tolkien’s. To feel for the “innocent lamb” is not praise-worthy, it is normal, what gives the measure of a person is how much they can see the injustice perpetrated on the ones who have committed their fair share of crimes. Sadly in Beleriand there is almost none that quite rises to this standard, except for (and even here: only up to a point) Tùrin.

What did you like the most the first time you read The Silmarillion? Wow.. it was so long ago! I was 15. I think the thing that I liked the most was the enormous scope of the story, the fact it was a history book of an inexistent world. I was positively overwhelmed by the multitude of people and histories, the glimpses of different cultures and their complexities.

Do you think a Sauron-Smaug partnership could have been possible if the dragon hadn’t been destroyed? Any opinion about it? Possible? Yes, but depending on its goal and its scope. I do not doubt Sauron would have tried to make use of the dragon, after all Sauron is SMART, to the point that the only way he is beaten is by concocting a plan that relies on “providence” rather than tactics. Stiil, exactly because Sauron is smart, I do not think he would have honoured his agreement with the dragon to the bitter end if he had thought it too “limiting” of his own power; Sauron is not keen on loosing control. As for Smaug he would have undoubtedly seen the possible advantages in allying with Sauron, but he might also have seen the possible drawbacks thus he might not have thrown all of his lot with the Maia. I think an alliance could have been indeed possible, but its scope might have been limited, both because Smaug is an indolent slob, and because Sauron would not have liked to promise too much to the dragon knowing of its greed. Likely the dragon would have been “used” to completely vanquish the Khazad and people of Dale, but not much more. As a trump card Sauron already had the Witch King, who was of comparable power and completely under his control: a much safer bet.

Should we talk about the portrayal we get of Finrod in the debate with Andreth? Absolutely! Everything should be talked about XD. All jokes aside, I think that analysing his positions in the Antrabeth is paramount to understanding Finrod. I do not like them at all, but it is exactly because of them and a few other details that make his character definitely much more gray than the author probably intended, that I find Finrod interesting. To be completely frank I find the idea of ”St. Finrod the wandering hippie” absolutely boring and a disservice to a character that canonically has a side that doesn’t appear, in my opinion, as flatly cardboard-cut likeable or accepting of others as it might seem at first glance. Tolkien to me is all more fascinating and engaging because I do not share many his values on a fundamental level and seeing them exposed and argued for helped me grow as a person. I considered the position he presented, thought about it, and, no matter the conclusions I reached, I think my inner life was richer for it.

Can you share one headcanon about Celebrimbor and Narvi’s friendship? I ship them with the brightness of a thousand burning swan-ships. Despite really liking each other they are more often than not challenging each other’s abilities and theories. Even as they worked together they were adamant about having each their own lab and started their own private “underground war” by snaeking in each other’s work space and leaving “corrections” on each other’s notes. Which quickly escalated in the forged being used to craft new and better locks to protect their doors. The fight ended when Narvi found Tyelpe knelling on the floor in front of his new lock, desperately trying to pick it. Sadly his triumph was short-lived as he realised that even his own key was NOT getting the door open. Two hours passed like that: with Tyelpe insisting that his colleague had just made a lock impossible to open, and Narvi replying that Tyelpe had just “messed it up with his butcher-like attempts at finesse”, until they both capitulated and ended up getting roaring drunk together and taking turns axing down the door with Narvi’s ceremonial weapon after a solemn promise of never invading each other’s work-space anymore. Narvi gifted Tyelpe with the lock they recovered from the splinters as a “sign of peace” and to “prove the elf that you are never too old to be wrong”. Years and years after Narvi’s death, in the time when Annatar was becoming more and more shady even in his own eyes, Tyelpe was playing around with the lock out of sheer nervousness and ended up dropping it. The impact dislodged a tiny piece of metal that had broken from Tyelpe’s lock-pick, unbeknownst to the elf. The lock opened immediately. Narvi adopted his young, brightest, dwarven apprentice and Tyelpe was adamant about “getting to be dad n.2 know the kid and be involved in his life”

Any thought about the idea of Maedhros wearing the dragon-helm? Why giving it to Fingon if it had already been given to him? Isn’t it rude? Is it even a good gift-idea? Here I’m biased.. XD Let’s say I do not think it was rude, but a sign of both friendship and a reminder to the Western Noldor that Himring had very important allies that knew how to make fire-proof armours, which the westerners had not and sorely needed. Smarmy gift, not exactly rude...

According to you, in The Silmarillion, which action is the most meaningful(/heartbreaking) token of loyalty? Bòr’s children and their people fighting to the end by the side of the Fëanorians.

If you could be fluent in one single tongue of Arda, and be clueless about all other languages, which one would you choose? (pick the age you prefer) I am already very much bothered by the fact I only know three languages and a half rather than “all of them”... Knowing only one would probably drive me to insanity. Yet: fair is fair, I have to answer. I would like to be a Noldorin Quenya speaker that got accidentally shut in the scientific section of Formenos’ library. Imagine all the books, project, technology, and ideas that could be found there!

tagged by @atariince (thank you so much! <3)

My stupid questions:

What do you think of Hurin and Huor’s last stand?

Thoughts on Maeglin going missing for so long and then being just allowed in with no questions asked?

Considering the events that ended WWII, Tolkien’s words in his preface to LOTR, and his “scientists on the slippery slope”: do you feel any sympathy for Saruman?

If you were an Hobbit of the Shire would you have voted for Sam as a major? Why?

If you could visit one and only one location in Beleriand which one would it be? Explain

How much do you think Gondolin’s nostalgia for Tirion influenced the depiction of the Exiles as eager for a chance to go back to Valinor?

If you could either be Galadriel or Elrond which one would you choose? Would Celebrian like that?

What do you think would have happened if “the Noldor had won the day” in the Nirnaeth?

First thought of Thorondor as Maedhros and then Fingolfin bled all over his plumage.

Your favourite Caranthir’s moment, can either be your head-canon or canon.

Would you like to have the Gaffer Gamgee as your father in law? Why?

tagging: @feanoriel, @eldochflamma, @hwarang, , @morgholoth @gultgull and whoever is interested and has not been tagged yet!

#meme #fandom sillyness

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