INCOMPLETE.
Who: Yamamoto Takeshi (sereins), Eko Hoshunin (temerate).
What: Just a meeting between two old friends, ok. :| Possible violence, depending on what Eko says, sob.
Where: Somewhere.
When: Sometime.
Yamamoto was doing a lot of waiting, these days.
Except this didn't really count as waiting, he supposed. Yamamoto was never actually really waiting on anyone or anything, considering he was typically the one who ended up seeking out all the answers to everything himself. He'd always been around for anyone who'd ever entered the city, always been there to seek and retrieve as needed, even when he hadn't really known for sure what the fuck it was that was going on. It was instinct, right. It was apart of what he did, apart of who he was, ingrained into every single fiber of his being.
It was all apart of the sort of shit he would always end up doing, no matter what kind of situation he was thrown into. Whether it was retrieving Gokudera, or finding Tsuna, or pretending not to be worried about Byakuran, or stopping someone from being a fucking idiot, he was always there to do his job, and to do it correctly. Or, well, as correctly as he knew how, because there was always room for error. Always room for mistakes and slip-ups and the little problems he'd never be able to fix. Yamamoto knew that, too.
But it was just easier to ignore all that sometimes.
He pulled his katana away from the chest of the beast he'd just destroyed, flicking the blood from the blade on the backswing, before he was moving to return it into its casing in one fluid and unbroken moment. It crumpled to the ground a second or two later, and Yamamoto shifted over the dirt and concrete before he moved to step over it, brushing his hands down over his pants before bringing one palm up to rub it over tired eyes.
Everything that happened within Nuadoria's walls was always typical, because nothing about this city was normal at all, and Yamamoto was maybe just a little bit bothered by the fact that he was still completely unused to it. Unused to the hidden threats that he would have never had to face back home, unused to not being able to protect the people he cared for to the best of his ability, because things were different here. That was the way it went.
Adjusting was difficult, and he exhaled slowly, falling back a step as the blood from the beast pooled at his feet. The thick substance glittered red in the failing light, and his hand dropped away from his eyes as he caught his reflection in it just barely.
This routine had only become slightly tiresome.
( Yamamoto never noticed. )
What: Just a meeting between two old friends, ok. :| Possible violence, depending on what Eko says, sob.
Where: Somewhere.
When: Sometime.
Yamamoto was doing a lot of waiting, these days.
Except this didn't really count as waiting, he supposed. Yamamoto was never actually really waiting on anyone or anything, considering he was typically the one who ended up seeking out all the answers to everything himself. He'd always been around for anyone who'd ever entered the city, always been there to seek and retrieve as needed, even when he hadn't really known for sure what the fuck it was that was going on. It was instinct, right. It was apart of what he did, apart of who he was, ingrained into every single fiber of his being.
It was all apart of the sort of shit he would always end up doing, no matter what kind of situation he was thrown into. Whether it was retrieving Gokudera, or finding Tsuna, or pretending not to be worried about Byakuran, or stopping someone from being a fucking idiot, he was always there to do his job, and to do it correctly. Or, well, as correctly as he knew how, because there was always room for error. Always room for mistakes and slip-ups and the little problems he'd never be able to fix. Yamamoto knew that, too.
But it was just easier to ignore all that sometimes.
He pulled his katana away from the chest of the beast he'd just destroyed, flicking the blood from the blade on the backswing, before he was moving to return it into its casing in one fluid and unbroken moment. It crumpled to the ground a second or two later, and Yamamoto shifted over the dirt and concrete before he moved to step over it, brushing his hands down over his pants before bringing one palm up to rub it over tired eyes.
Everything that happened within Nuadoria's walls was always typical, because nothing about this city was normal at all, and Yamamoto was maybe just a little bit bothered by the fact that he was still completely unused to it. Unused to the hidden threats that he would have never had to face back home, unused to not being able to protect the people he cared for to the best of his ability, because things were different here. That was the way it went.
Adjusting was difficult, and he exhaled slowly, falling back a step as the blood from the beast pooled at his feet. The thick substance glittered red in the failing light, and his hand dropped away from his eyes as he caught his reflection in it just barely.
This routine had only become slightly tiresome.
( Yamamoto never noticed. )