Author's Note: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn; it's all written for fun and no profit whatsoever.

This is obviously set in the future, but in an alternate time line, assuming Tsuna and the others alter their future events when they return to the present.

Much thanks to everybody writing Yamamoto/Haru (and especially to xxkoffeexx for her stories and encouraging words!).

By the way, I've never quite written Yamamoto, Haru (seriously, I'd never noticed her "hahi" before until I saw it in fan fics and read some more manga, so I tried to incorporate that quirk of hers in nicely, but I'm not sure if it came out nicely), and Yamamoto/Haru before, so I hope they aren't badly out of character (if you happen to think so). I learn as I go.

Right from the moment she'd learned the truth, all the way to her wedding day after trudging through endless, lonely nights of emotional pain, Haru had said yes.

Sometimes she wondered why.

Yes – not only to the man who'd proposed to her, but to her friends and to the Vongola Famiglia, ultimately. She'd never been officially a part of them, but having married a key member of that Family, she was now. There'd been no special rite of passage or celebration (save for the wedding) for her "membership," but only words. Words from her husband, from the guardians she knew best, from various other Family members, from friends, and from the boss himself – her former infatuation – Tsuna.

"You realize he's part of the mafia, don't you?"

"Becoming associated with the Vongolas is dangerous."

"You're his weak spot now. His life is now more vulnerable because of you."

". . .It's the mafia, Haru!"

"Are you sure you want this?"

What, did they think her a complete idiot? Of course she knew what she was getting into! Otherwise, she would have cut off all contact from Tsuna and his friends in the beginning. But she hadn't! No, sir, her crush on Tsuna then had kept her coming back. Kyoko was her new friend, Lambo and I-Pin were adorable, and the boys, well, they were all right since they were Tsuna's friends.

Strange events had plagued them all, and she'd endured so much confusion and anxiety that she couldn't believe her hair wasn't white already from the shock. Somehow, she'd convinced herself that everything would be all right in the end, and most often it was. That time when she found herself in the future (after a good explanation much later) was mind-boggling, but she had accepted it. They were her friends, and she would support them to the very end, no matter what.

But, as she thought about it now over a cup of coffee on the cold couch in a dark living room, isolating herself might be better. If only for his sake.

Haru had quickly learned as the years went by that the mafia business was no walk in the park. Even with a reluctant, kind-hearted boss, the Vongolas constantly needed to watch their backs, double-check radar screens, and keep in touch with contacts all over the world.

Being a hitman didn't mean glorious beginnings and endings. Being a hitman meant bloodshed, battles, and organized crime, although Tsuna tended not to head in the direction of the latter. Countless enemies appeared and disappeared. Secrets abounded, shrouded in mystery and deceit (Don't reveal this to anyone or you'll be killed faster than you can blink – that sort of thing). Heck, even the military of many nations were involved in some way or the other!

This was only the tip of the iceberg. There were other occurrences in the underworld that Haru had never heard of, for good reason.

So, why was she sitting here, listening to thunder, and waiting for her mafioso husband to come home from an "unmentionable" job?

She could have been an elementary school teacher (or a costume-designer! Break into the fashion business or something) to hundreds of children in the city. Instead, she taught kids whose parents were in the mafia or at least in relation to the Vongolas and their allies. These kids already knew about real guns, as opposed to toy guns with a flag popping out of the front.

She could have married a businessman or a doctor, live in a good, safe neighborhood, and have several kids. There would be birthday parties, school festivals, graduation, grandkids, and never would she have to worry about any one of them returning home with a bloodied, bandaged limb or fresh scars on their bodies.

Normality – she yearned for that from time to time, Haru admitted.

Well, one of her dreams was fulfilled. Her wedding day had been everything she wanted: her custom-made decorations; a vanilla cake with purple icing; a sunny, breezy day; a gorgeous but simple shiro-maku; and, best of all, a groom she deeply loved.

Haru couldn't quite remember when it started. Tsuna was practically her first love, and she would never forget that.

But Yamamoto held her heart now. They were both upbeat and optimistic, so it was natural for them to gravitate towards one another. The "opposites attract" theory didn't fit them exactly, but they were opposite in some ways. Yamamoto possessed an even temper compared to hers, while she took some matters more seriously then he did.

It was a funny thing, really. In order to be closer to Tsuna, Haru had worked at getting to know each of his friends better. Gokudera was a challenge, but they could hold civilized conversations once in awhile. Ryouhei's extremeness could be a bother, but he was a good man. And she interacted easily with Yamamoto, who always made her feel at ease – sort of the second person to go to if Tsuna wasn't available at the moment.

As she grew into a woman, she'd matured in her understanding of her crush. It was painfully obvious that Tsuna just wasn't interested in her romantically, and it was a blow to her heart. But Haru was strong, and worked hard in dealing with the pain, because if she didn't, she would wither away.

It helped that Yamamoto had dropped by every day after her outburst to make sure she was all right.

Maybe she'd run into Yamamoto's comforting arms on a whim because he happened to be there. Maybe.

Haru cared about him, she really did. She loved him so much that she was willing to leave him if it meant his life being in less danger.

Even though it hurt her to think about and seriously consider leaving him.

Tears pricked at her eyes until they fell like Yamamoto's rain. Why did life have to be so complicated? Why did Reborn come when he did and change all their lives forever? But if he hadn't, she might never have met Yamamoto.

It was a cursed blessing.

Haru began to sob openly.

Outside, it did not rain, but the thunder did fade away. Now all that was left in the sky were a few glowing stars peeking from behind storm clouds moving on their way. Midnight was at hand. Perhaps she ought to go to bed, but her body wouldn't listen. Whenever he went away for awhile, she always waited up for him on the day he planned to return.

As if on cue, the front door opened, creaking in the hallway. She waited, hearing him remove his shoes and set them down on the floor.

Soon, Yamamoto entered the living room, quietly and hesitantly. Haru set her coffee cup on the table, and stood up, trying to stop sniffling like a little girl. Yamamoto turned a lamp on, filling the room with warm, dimmed light, revealing framed photographs and a television.

Her heart skipped a beat upon being engulfed by that warm feeling she experienced every time she saw him. Yamamoto was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome with his crisp suit setting off his well-built, athletic body. She confessed that that scar on his chin made him seem more rugged than he usually was.

Yamamoto dropped his sword and overnight bag onto the couch. He stood very still, regarding her with sad but questioning eyes, as if he knew the reason for her sorrow, but wanted to hear it directly from her.

"Don't look at me like that!" she finally said, exasperated. "You make it so hard—" She stopped, grabbing a tissue and blowing her nose.

Yamamoto said softly, "Haru."

"I worry all the time for you, that somebody might come here to tell me you're dead!" Haru continued, as if he hadn't said a word. "Or that someone might try to kill me to get to you. Maybe I'm better off without you! Or you're better off without me! It would be a whole heck of a lot easier if—if—!" She couldn't finish, bursting into tears once more.

Silence from him ensued while she wept. Then, he said, "If you want to leave, I won't stop you. . .you deserve better. I'm sorry."

Apologies, just like that! He was supposed to get angry, argue with her, and she would storm up to their bedroom to sleep because she couldn't possibly leave in the middle of the night. And he would sleep on the couch or go off to practice his Shigure Souen – in the middle of the night!

But Yamamoto remained standing, watching and waiting for her reaction. She was his hotheaded flower, and he was her calm, soothing rain. She had seen a furious Yamamoto once, usually right before the enemy fell to the Rain Guardian's swift attack, but it took a lot to anger him when it came to her. He rarely raised his voice at her except in times of panic.

Yamamoto was the one who let her cry on his shoulder and dampen his shirt with her tears. He knew what kind of flowers she liked and tolerated her crazy costumes with a laugh. He cooked for her when she was sick and put up with her rants and raves. He protected and provided for her. He was rough and intimidating (when he wasn't smiling) on the outside to many, but absolutely gentle and loving to her.

She loved him.

Haru didn't want to leave. What on earth was going on inside that brain of hers? Everyone was entitled to bouts of frustration, but she hated that she had overreacted. This was the life she had chosen. Nobody had forced her into it. She had said "I do" with her sanity intact and her hands in his, happy to be his best friend, lover, and wife.

She wanted to forever be the one he returned home to, his bright sanctuary in a dark, dark world. Haru would gladly dress his wounds, make him laugh, and even watch baseball with him. She wanted to be the one to kiss his scars, run her hand through his hair, and watch him sleep, content in knowing he was hers and hers only.

That was what she had vowed, wasn't it? For richer or poorer, sickness and health, laughter, respect, cherish, love. . .till death. Those words had never rang so true. They weren't perfect, but they would see their commitment to each other to the end.

She belonged here with him.

"Hahi! I'm sorry!" she cried out, lifting her head from her hands to face him. "I'm such an idiot! Haru is a complete idiot! Oh, Takeshi, I'm so sorry! I don't want to leave you – ever! I'm going to be with you always, and we're going to get through all of this—" Haru broke into more sobs.

Yamamoto crossed the distance between them, and she fell into his waiting arms. "You forgive Haru so easily! I'm so stupid, I—" Haru wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, leaning into him, not wanting to let go. "I love you. I love you so much!"

Her husband held her securely, closely, whispering, "I love you. . .more than you'll ever know." And then, he chuckled, adding, "Heh, that was some welcome!" Haru apologized again, her voice muffled. Yamamoto tilted her chin upward, so that she faced him, and claimed her lips for his own, and Haru felt as though they were the only two souls in a lonely world.