"A Midsummer Reader-Insert Dream"

Week.3 ~ 家庭教師ヒットマンリボーン! Katekyo Hitman REBORN

Giotto (Vongola Primo) x Reader

 

 

JAPAN, EARLY YEARS OF THE SHOWA ERA, A LATE SUMMER AFTERNOON

"*murmurs* Mommy, look look, this person's hair looks like kinmokusei (Jap. golden osmanthus, blooming in Autumn)! Don't look in his eyes, what if he gets upset and places a curse on you?! Uwaaah, scaryyy *sniff*... They say barbarians eat human flesh... He will upset the Jinja Guardian by calling the name of his God... His weird clothing must be hiding weapon for sure, tsk..."

At some distance in the main street of a crowded neighbourhood, the object of everyone gossips is heaving a sigh, not needing fluency in this foreign language to understand.

"It sounds like I really can't go anywhere alone..." Giotto sighs, half-resigned half-amused but earnestly regretting he still stepped out for a walk even when his friend and host couldn't attend to him on that afternoon.

Let alone his height - at least half-a-head taller than most men ; his clothing - Italian suit instead of kimono or military uniform ; his hair colour is like a warning signal from far away.

Not that anything can be done about the first and third point, but perhaps improvement on the second would help.

"Sumimasen (Jap. Excuse me), sono kimono kudasai (Jap. this clothing please)."

But the shopkeeper who had been answering happily turns sour when finally seeing who his customer is.

Giotto sweatdrops with a forced smile and pulls money out from his mantel like if pulling out a biscuit to soothe a frightened deer.

After much smiling and soothing and of course more money, the shopkeeper finally accepts to sell Giotto the male yukata he had been pointing at, but refuses to help him put it on, barely hinting at a curtain in a corner of the shop after that Giotto has pulled more money from his mantel.

Well, not that Giotto is used otherwise...

But his Vongola hyper-intuition is not to be belittled. Despite it being his first year and first summer in Japan, it doesn't mean he doesn't know how to observe his surroundings and behave accordingly.

A glance at the shopkeeper and he's closed the collar of the yukata on the correct side. Another glance at the display and he's looped and knotted the belt almost properly. A final glance at the men passing down the street and he's adjusted the front loose to rest his arm there.

So as a result, when he pulls the curtain again, the shopkeeper can't help but stare in awe at his dashing appearance, even needing to clear his throat to recover composure and hand his customer a kraft-paper bag to carry away his usual clothing.

Giotto's purse and identification tablet easily find themselves in the inner pocket of the yukata sleeves, just like he's seen men and women doing so often, and he bows slightly to thank the shopkeeper before leaving the store.

What now... Looking around, it seems a lot of families are on the outing, and most passerbys do head towards the same direction... Something must be happening, why not blend with them all and follow... Well, not that he can completely blend in but...

Indeed, about half-an-hour later, Giotto overhears the reason why everyone is massed by the riverbanks: hanabi (Jap. fireworks). How could an Italian miss on a fireworks display, it would tarnish their reputation as the masters of artistic pyrotechnics. 

A smile faintly stretches his lips: seems like his Vongola hyper-intuition turned this walk into a once-in-the-summer outing. The skies have darkened by the minute, and everyone is now eagerly looking forward to the pyrotechnic display.

Now, if only people could stop avoiding him like if he was an oni (Jap. demon, monster), he would feel completely at ease. Even if it feels comfortable not to have the crowd leaving him some space, isn't it a little bit too obvious: him being on the first row but without any neighbour when everyone is of course pressing to get a better view...

TRIP. GRAB. "...?!"

He takes it back. Someone DID come to his level, but with too much impulse and without realising this was the front row and only the steep slope of the riverbanks was waiting afterwards. The crowd is definitely to blame for having hindered her line of sight, but perhaps the signorina's tight yukata and tall getas are also to blame for her tripping...

DOKI.

Your eyes just made contact with the ones of the man who has grabbed you by the arm to save you from a fall, and you somehow freeze without knowing how to react.

For one, most people wouldn't extend their hand to help a stranger like that. For two, most people wouldn't make contact with a stranger, especially not a man with a woman. For three, most people don't have such captivating eye colour.

Yet all three happened just then, and another hand is even held to you to use it as support to get back on feet, the strong grab having simply stopped your fall before you would meet with the bottom of the riverbank. A hand with a feeling of straight-forward care and gentleness.

You have accepted the hand without even thinking about it, completely in a daze and unable to understand how this stranger - and foreigner - could bring forth such a strong feeling of it being alright to rely on him.

"... a-arig... (Jap. beginning of thank you)." But before you could show your gratitude to someone deserving it no matter how he looks, two strong hands have grabbed your shoulders and pulled you back in the big of the crowd.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! Damn, who is that weird man?! Did he do anything to you?! He touched you, does it hurt, does it smell, does it...!!!" You have to comfort your friends that nothing bad happened to you except the fright of falling the riverbank, but you have trouble interrupting their mean comments about your saviour.

It's not like you'd want them to think an oni has you infatuated, so any further word in defence of this golden-haired gentleman would be misinterpreted... Not that you agree about badmouthing strangers, but social convention is too difficult to oppose, somehow...

Still, you haven't been able to express your thanks, so you must meet with him again at least once, or it would leave a bitter feeling in your heart.

"Ah!" You easily notice the golden-haired man leaving the first row as his head dominates over the crowd, and excuse yourself to your friends for awhile to follow after him - or rather try to follow, as the crowd is so dense that there's no space for a needle to be poked, let alone a young woman to slip through.

But you had been able to reach the front row before, so there is no reason why you can't chase after the man to whom you owe some thanks, hurrying in zigzag as you can in your tight yukata while apologizing to the spectators you pass by.

You keep on glancing up to follow after his golden hair, and it doesn't help that the night has become dark already, but you finally reach where the crowd is less dense, and hurry in the direction towards which he's left.

TILT. But at finally catching up, you realize this direction was the darkness of the nearby trees and bamboos, and that he's not alone.

Your call instantly deadens between your lips as a shiver runs down your spin at feeling danger, and you look around in panic. But the crowd is too far now, and the chatter of anticipation is too loud anyway: nobody will hear you crying for help.

What to do, what can you do... The man who helped you before is getting ransomed!

Meanwhile, facing you at some distance under a tree, Giotto has startled a little at your arrival, before shooting a concerned look at the four dirty-looking thugs surrounding him.

Their intentions have been quite clear from their attitude and from how they kept trying to reach for the kraft-parcel containing his clothes, nevermind the coin purse inside his sleeve. Perhaps they had even followed since the shopping district, but both items having been easily safeguarded when they had tried to pickpocket him amidst the cover of the crowd, they had had no choice but to drag him away to this deserted area.

It's easy to guess that you're not part of them or you wouldn't look so frightened. But just why aren't you running away...

Just as Giotto is inwardly pondering about it, not seeming overly concerned about being himself the designated victim of the vilains, your actions make him sweatdrop even more.

SMASH. You've just sent a couple stones you've picked up on the ground in different directions, the noise of their crashing into the forest making the thugs turn their head away, and have immediately used the opportunity to dash forward towards him.

GRAB. Giotto startles at feeling your tiny hand grab his wrist to pull him after you, and a weary sigh escapes his lips at understanding your rationale.

He won't look down on your bravery or quickly-made-up plan, but the timing is just too off...

"KORA!" The thugs have of course already discarded the diversion and brought their eyes back on him, discovering you in the process, and closed your escape path without much effort.

"è del gatto, Signorina (Ita. you've put yourself in trouble, Miss)." Giotto murmurs in low voice while trying to pull on your hand to make you step behind him.

But you're also pulling on his hand to try and make him run after you. As a result, none of you have really moved from the initial spot, and the thugs are getting more and more annoyed, starting to argue in Japanese with you.

"Hanarero, onna. Nakama ka? Fuzakerunda. Kieuze! (Jap. Step away, woman. Are you his comrade? Don't mess with us. Get lost!)"

Giotto had stayed silent for the entire exchange, simply heaving another sigh. For someone whose hand is trembling around his wrist, you sure knows how to hold your head high. So Japan also has signorinas like you, how unexpected...

FZZZZZ-BOOOM!

The flash of the first firework suddenly illuminates the skies and casts its light on you both, making Giotto chuckle faintly that this isn't the time to be stuck with petty thieves.

GRAB.

In the brief second of inattention caused by the beauty of firework, you suddenly feel a warm contact around your waist, before a twirl makes you lose sight of the colourful flower crackling in the dark skies.

BAM. THUMB. CRASH. DROP. FZZZZZ-BOO.BOO.BOOOM!

When you finally feel your feet back on the ground, the sight shimmering under the colourful lights of the fireworks is stealing your breath away.

The four thugs are down in dismiss without you having any idea how, and the golden-haired stranger is gently releasing you before holding out his hand to help you out of the forest, completely unruffled by just what happened.

... he... single-handedly... defeated all of them.

DOKI. Your cheeks are burning as you follow after Giotto like in a trance, light-headed as adrenaline is flushing out from your blood vessels now that danger has passed, but passed due to such breath-taking reason.

You haven't really realised yet, even when you're finally back to the crowd laughing in admiration at the fireworks. It takes the relative coldness of Giotto retrieving his hand for you to snap out of it and realise you're the centre of the attention with all your co-citizens looking obviously down on you for acting so close with a foreigner.

Giotto himself had noticed before you, and tactfully stepped aside to leave proper distance between you both, before nodding his head in parting and turning heels to take his leave.

Somehow, it makes you upset that your saviour has to leave like if he was guilty of something when he helped you all along and the real culprits are the ones back in the forest.

GRAB. You catch him back by his sleeve with a stubborn expression, and look around with poise without lowering your eyes at the intended staring.

"Sono hito wa watashi wo tasukatta (Jap. This person helped/saved me). Sono hito no koto wo yoroshiku onegai itashimasu (Jap. Please take good care of this person, very polite)."

Giotto's eyes widen considerably at seeing you bowing your head for his sake, and a sigh of surrender escapes his lips as he lets you stubbornly stay by his side and chaperon him back to the front row to finish watching the fireworks.

Japanese signorinas are not to be underestimated, non ci piove (Ita. no doubt about it)...

"Signorina...?" Giotto finally asks with a faint smile as the skies sizzle of orange, red, blue and gold for the grand finale. "Watashi wa Giotto. Anata no namae wa? (Jap. I am Giotto, what is your name? polite)"

_

~THE END~

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