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5918: Wedding.
The first thing Hibari did, besides hitting Gokudera with her tonfa for asking, and then again for not doing it according to the procedure outlined in the official Namimori handbook, was to place an order for a traditional white silk kimono. After none of the local tailors appeared capable of making one that lived up to her standards, and then mysteriously burned down right after she visited them, Nana volunteered to make one for Hibari, because she was one of “Tsu-kun’s cute little friends.” Hibari bore that, and Nana’s teasing as she measured her, with surprisingly good grace, although Tsuna later appeared with crutches, a cast on one arm, seven missing teeth and a ruptured colon, while looking around shiftily whenever anyone asked how he’d managed to fall off the water tower and roll down the rocky 200 foot hill it was on all by himself.
Gokudera, on the other hand, always seemed to be checking around corners before she went anywhere, and would only visit Tsuna by climbing in through his bedroom window, which gave the neighbors the entirely wrong impression about her. Instead of feeling sick at the sight of her, she now ran from the room every time Bianchi’s name was mentioned, who seemed very determined to have a special talk with Hayato, irregardless of her unwillingness, the rather rude way she tended to pass out when Bianchi came near, or any reinforced, padlocked doors that happened to be between them.
This continued for several months, until one pleasantly warm May afternoon, when Gokudera burst through the front door of Hibari’s house, dynamite flying.
“You motherfucker!” she screeched, “You burnt down the church! There was only one proper church in this shithole, and you burnt it down!”
Hibari, who had been kneeling in front of a low table and wearing a cotton yukata as if she never did anything but wait for unwelcome guests to find her in this position, slid elegantly to her feet and knocked out three of Gokudera’s teeth before she’d managed to look away from the sight of Hibari’s bare legs.
“It sounds like you mispronounced ‘Namimori,’ Gokudera Hayato. Let me give you a speech lesson.” And then Hibari was grinning, or snarling, it was hard to tell, and there was a tonfa pressing hard against Gokudera’s throat, shoving her back into the wall. She clawed and thrashed and kicked, and Hibari made a noise that was something like stifled chuckling, and the nonsense sounds that Gokudera used on Uri when no one was around. “Na- mi- mo- ri. Do you think you can handle that?” Hibari edged closer, tonfa shifting. “Hm?”
“Fuck your mother.” Gokudera said, voice weak and choked.
“You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you? I look just like her after all. Can you imagine it? Two of me.” Hibari’s voice dropped smoothly into Gokudera’s ear. “Naked, together. With you. Doing whatever you want.”
Gokudera’s hands were slow, wrapped around Hibari’s wrists instead of tearing at them, and there was a vivid blush across her cheeks. Hibari leaned in, painfully close, and brushed her lips across Gokudera’s, before biting down viciously and shoving the other girl to the floor.
“I’ll make you say Namimori, one way or another.”
When Gokudera and Hibari showed up to their own marriage ceremony two hours late, Hibari in a pristine traditional Japanese kimono, and Gokudera stubbornly clinging to a half-ruined Versace dress and covered in fresh bite marks, no one was really that surprised.