(Untitled)
Who: Gamma, TYB!Yamamoto Takeshi [Will eventually be opened for intervention, of the TYL sort.]
What: Brawl based on a Bet. (Aka. Gamma is baiting TYL!Moto, by making terms TYB! can't refuse to meet.)
Where: The Fountain.
When: 2pm.
( Top of the first, and here’s the pitch… )
What: Brawl based on a Bet. (Aka. Gamma is baiting TYL!Moto, by making terms TYB! can't refuse to meet.)
Where: The Fountain.
When: 2pm.
( Top of the first, and here’s the pitch… )
There was only so much a human body could take, much less one of what was more or less a child. Haha, maybe less-than, because he'd been through this before, and it was a learning experience he'd been taught already. There was the vague impression that he was glad it wasn't Gokudera, this time, or maybe Gokudera could have handled himself-- haha. Even half conscious, that thought pissed him off a little bit, too. Why hadnt he been able to handle himself--?
Maybe it was an expanding skill, the ability to survive-- keep on your feet when the soles of your shoes weren't there. Pain tolerance and a thick skin, slightly shaded eyes even when you saw something evil in the sunlight.
Aa, that was the tough thing, about the future. He didn't really see evil, not in the black-and-white way that might have lended them total justification in eradicating it, had they the skill. He wanted to win because there were things, people he'd wanted to protect. And that was it. A big reason, but.
There wasn't a whole lot of reason behind all this, and that had been bugging him from the start.
Gamma had got what he wanted. He'd gotten a scream out of him on the third hit, and he'd gotten something that wasn't dead, but haha, could probably pass for a good halloween costume. Zombies on parade. Gamma had probably meant to do it that way. Nothing too fatal-- though anymore electrical jolts, and Yamamoto felt like his chest would just explode, and that would be it-- everything was just theatrics.
Clothing soaked through by water, the electricity had been encased, and made a number of burns along his body to match the winning one across his face. The Volpi's nipping had torn clothing to reveal those burns along with their own bite marks. And the two most visible areas-- hands and face-- were a mess. The wire rubbed and chafed red the places it dug into, one of his hands caked in blood from where the ring had been removed by teeth and nails. His shoulders must be bruising by now, because he gave up on trying to stand on his tip toes. Too slippery with the blood that was making a neat pool below him, and used too much energy, when all his had been sapped.
Haha... and if he could have, even he would have laughed at how much a mess his face was.
Granted, with the way his bones ached from being held like that, the stress it would have put on the raw cuts and flowering bruises, or the wide blistered burns, he wasn't going to be smiling anymore today.
He'd cough again, sure, but that was just to get the blood out of his mouth from the tongue he'd bitten, and his split lip, and the bit of it that was coming down, from his nose-- and it was followed up by a wincing stare.
There was a point where a body hit its limit of fight, and he'd hit his. There was nothing he could do, no way he could move, that made him feel even a little less uncomfortable. His head was fuzzy and his vision was blurry and everything inside felt like a jittery mess.
Haha... ah. He might have to tell Tsuna he wouldn't be able to make it, to visit the new part of town tomorrow.
But Gamma got what he wanted, through and through. He could see his elder self, dimly, getting a bit closer, before stopping. And there was a splinter of guilt at getting him involved-- haha, how lame... having to come to protect your younger self-- but.
At least it wasn't cheating. Still one on one, in a way. It was just a substitution.
So he'd stare up, past Gamma, at the older version of himself, or maybe not, haha, because they weren't really the same. Not really.
Because insinuatingly, Takeshi knew. That this guy wasn't going to aim for non-fatal spots.
What he should have done. Or maybe, what this guy shouldn't do.
Either way... haha.
He was kinda glad someone was going to get him down soon. He had faith in his family, and this counted as family. Right?
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It probably should have worried him that the bird might have gone to Vongola Decimo, or to one or both of the Arcobaleno, or to the Varia. Should have worried him, and didn't. He thought he could count on Yamamoto coming by himself after getting that call. Wouldn't want children to see what this was going to turn into, after all.
Although one child was going to get a front row seat. If he'd been a Sun Guardian, Gamma might even have healed Yamamoto so he'd be sure to stay conscious for the battle.
Oh well. He'd just have to hope.
He leaned into the boy one last time and whispered in his ear. "You want to watch this, schoolboy. This is not a game. If you take anything away from today, I hope it'll be the sight of him right now--" and he slipped something small back in Yamamoto's pocket, hidden from view.
"...and you're gonna need to live up to that, to kill Byakuran before it's too late for your world."
Then he turned away and strode out to meet the other Guardian. One of the Volpi twined briefly around Yamamoto, soft fur and a quiet whine, before following its partner after Gamma.
"Took your sweet time getting here," he called out, box weapon in hand and smirking like his injury didn't burn like hellfire and shorten his breath. "I guess I should've drawn you a map, huh? Maybe scrawled on the walls in his blood. That's pretty stock for the villain."
"I am glad you decided to show up, though. What a waste this day would've been otherwise."
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He actually didn't even stop to listen. In the time it took for Gamma to speak at all, Yamamoto had already drawn his box weapon and released the small bird to, once again, distract the Volpi. They weren't his main concern, and the fact that Gamma never seemed to be without them might have annoyed him slightly; Yamamoto wasn't there to fight a few foxes, after all. He was there to fight him.
And, yeah, Gamma was going to get what he wanted for once this time, because Yamamoto couldn't quite help himself. Gamma was still talking, and Yamamoto was moving forward, now, drawing the tip of his blade along the concrete as he shifted closer without hesitation and without pause. He wasn't so stupid that he thought that this fight would end easily, of course. Gamma was still a Millefiore, and every single member of the Millefiore had always been particularly dangerous.
This wasn't any different.
But he still didn't really give a shit, and maybe that was why he allowed himself to come in so close, fingers gripped tightly around the hilt to his katana as he slammed into Gamma's chest, shoulder first. Except that was only another distraction, another way of catching Gamma slightly off guard while his free hand moved up to gather a fistful of the other's shirt.
His smile was gone by now, and the hilt of the sword moved up to slam hard against the wound already there on his stomach. It wasn't life-threatening, of course; it was just one of those dirty sort of moves that Yamamoto figured he deserved, was just a way of saying hey, fuck you, buddy before the real battle even began.
He backed off seconds later, shoes scraping along the concrete as he went, and gave Gamma a second to compose himself before he shifted the katana in his hand and moved to attack him properly.
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Gamma wasn't stupid enough to let an enemy just walk right up to him, but the charge caught him off-guard, because he'd never seen Yamamoto lose his temper, and he'd never seen a Rain box weapon so powered by rage that it was able to slow the Volpi--which was exactly what this one did. His shield was in the wrong place to block that hilt, expecting the blade, and oh, fuck Yamamoto was an absolute bastard.
It hurt and it hurt and it hurt and his teeth were clenched when he punched open his box weapon, the full set of charged billiard balls hovering in the air around him and moved by will alone, rather than being propelled by the pool cue he didn't have anymore. More draining to fight like this, to control each individual weapon but he'd have to, backpedaling away from Yamamoto and sending the balls streaking at him. The Volpi snapped and snarled against the swallow's tranquility attribute until Gamma simply recalled them. He'd need the flame.
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But then that might have been because Yamamoto hadn't really been expecting shit. He hadn't been thinking at all, really; this had been about something else entirely, something that had nothing to do with expectations or preparation. It didn't matter in the end, though, because he still got what he had wanted, kind of like how Gamma had gotten what he wanted. Finally. But it had still taken him a considerable amount of time to get Gamma in the position that he was in now.
Which was on his back with Yamamoto's fingers fisted in the front of his shirt, fingers gripping the katana tight as he stood over him, breathing hard. He was bleeding and burnt from various spots on his body, and his shirt was torn by now, stained dark with dried and drying blood. Maybe slightly harder wasn't the right choice of words; it had been difficult in general, and Gamma (wounded or not) was a bit of a tough person to take down.
But it was okay, because it was over now, and Yamamoto lifted the back of his katana to hit him hard across the face, just bare inches from his temple, with the hilt.
Just in case.
Most pawns were down except for one, and the knight didn't even need to be cornered, because he'd already been floored.
"Haha, hey, are you still awake?" It was the first time he'd spoken since the fight started, and his fingers curled tighter in the material of his shirt as he stared down levelly at the other. "I wanted to tell you something important."
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He hadn't really been expecting to win, anyway.
His ring flickered as the blow came down, but there was no flame left to block it and he had no energy left even to care. His ears rang from the impact. More blood on the pavement. Yamamoto might've also been at the end of his endurance, but he didn't need any Rain flame just to hold onto a sharp pointy thing and cut Gamma's throat with it. Or hit him in the face with the blunt end.
This was where a gun would've come in handy, probably. Too bad he'd promised Nosaru and Tazaru he wouldn't carry one after a particularly low moment. Too bad he'd wasted the bandages on that stab wound, because it was bleeding freely and spilling warmth down his side. Too bad Yamamoto had come into the fight fresh. Too bad, everything.
At least the bastard would have some brand new scars, and he hoped they hurt like fuck every time it stormed.
Oh. He was talking.
Gamma coughed wetly, tasting nothing but iron, and glared up at Yamamoto out of the eye that wasn't full of blood. "Who the hell do you think I am? 'Course I'm awake."
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His fingers tightened once more in the fabric of Gamma's shirt as he hoisted him up, supporting the majority of his weight with one arm as he kept his eyes focused down on his face. The adrenaline before had been the only thing that had really propelled him forward, but he was getting tired, now. Almost drowsy, really, and though the air was surprisingly cold around them, it wasn't doing much at keeping his senses alert and at the ready.
Maybe he was just tired of all of this, or maybe he just didn't care enough anymore to really draw these sorts of situations out. It always came back to this, after all. It always came back to this point, and someone else would die, and it was never him, and this was the way the pattern went. Yamamoto had it memorized by now.
It still didn't make it any easier.
( He had thought it would with age, but it didn't, it was still fucking hard and stupid and impossible and everything about this was impossible. )
He breathed, once, twice, and then he was leaning down, leaning closer, until his mouth rested mere inches away from Gamma's ear. They were relatively close to where his younger self was, and even though Yamamoto doubted he'd be able to understand anything he was about to say, he wasn't really keen on taking that particular chance.
"I'd tell you about how big of a mistake this was, but I don't really think that'd get me anywhere," and his words came out in that same roughly accented Italian that he sometimes spoke when he wasn't ready for the rest of the world to hear what he actually had to say. "Because this is what you wanted, right?"
He shifted his hand around the katana to draw it closer, and the blade scraped along over the concrete as it neared.
"I don't know why you're doing what you're doing, or what it is you expect to get out of this, but I don't appreciate being toyed with."
The katana lifted, and it glinted again in what little light surrounded them.
"But you should know that I'm being generous, for now," he murmured lightly, dropping his chin toward his chest some as he focused on a spot on the ground just over Gamma's head. "But if you ever, ever, ever use any member of the Vongola family as bait to get to me again, I will find you and I rip you limb from limb, and I won't look back."
His fingers curled a little more in the material of his jacket before they relaxed completely as he released him. The katana was shifted once more, higher now, blade pointed directly towards Gamma's chest (right towards the heart), and Yamamoto moved to thrust it forward hard, before --
He stopped.
There was movement in the background, and he hesitated slightly, glancing over his shoulder.
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"Don't--"
Whatever Gamma had said, or wanted him to see. Haa... this wasn't a part of it. Maybe this guy was a killer, maybe this guy was him. Maybe there were some things worth killing for, maybe he already knew what those things were.
And if this hadn't felt right to begin with, it certainly didn't feel right now.
Maybe his elder self meant to stop, would have anyway.
Maybe he was too tired to really care.
"Just stop..."
Hissed out, sick of his ears ringing from the earlier jolts, the ones that made the sound of steel stick to his eardrums like led now, that awful scraping. Haha, usually he liked the sound, but--
"No more."
Whether he meant do 'no more' to Gamma, or 'no more' of this situation in general, or that he couldn't handle anymore was unclear even to him. Either way, it was firm, a little more demanding all of a sudden, if paling. Chin resting back onto his chest, he gave a bleary blink, wondering momentarily if he was even speaking out loud. But yeah, he was.
So, with a voice that sounded more like sandpaper than the usual melodies of sixteen-year-old, half-delirious he finished,
"It's over. No one wins..." Not at a game like this. "...so let's just go now."
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He hated kids. This was why.
The flame he called in that moment of hesitation was weak and guttering but it didn't matter when he was so close, when all he had to do was reach up to touch. Blood was conductive. Probably enough so that they would both get the shock, drenched as they were, and Yamamoto saw the flicker of green and moved, pure flawless instinct driving the blade down towards his enemy's heart--
There was an unholy shriek from someone's familiar, and the ground underneath both of them chose that moment to explode. Gamma was thrown back against something that felt a whole helluva lot like an iron bar, breath rushing out of him, and stared up against the blinding white light of the air at what had once been Forte.
It didn't look like a horse anymore, standing over him with cloven hooves and more armor and mad eyes. Nor did the little thing that had been accompanying Yamamoto look much like a squirrel now, crouched in front of its master and growling. The Forte-beast cracked the pavement when it stamped and half-reared. What had been the squirrel snarled. There was a crater between them, and neither creature would go near the edges.
A declared stalemate, apparently.
Gamma had Things To Say about that bullshit, but he'd run out of air and energy. Dizziness dragged him down and the last thing he saw, typically, was that goddamn Vongola bastard alive and more or less well and completely out of reach. No permanent damage here today either.
He passed out before he could curse.
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It was stupid that he had paused, and because he had, Gamma was still alive and now he couldn't do shit. Yamamoto pulled away the second their familiars transformed, and the katana tightened briefly in his hands as he backed up across the pavement, black shoes scraping along as he went. Should have killed him. Should have fucking killed him, but he hadn't, and he'd goddamn regret this later, he knew. He could feel it.
He didn't say anything. He didn't even stop to stare at his familiar for longer than five seconds before he was sliding his katana back into its casing as he walked over to his younger self. The bonds on his wrists were difficult to get out, and he plucked at them carefully, tugging the other against his chest when he finally managed to free him in order to support his weight properly.
But he still didn't say anything.
His fingers traced down over his cheek to check his pulse, to ensure that it was still beating strong, and then he was murmuring a quiet apology beneath his breath as he hauled the teenager over his shoulder.
He didn't spare Gamma a passing glance back when he walked away.
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He saw the familiars, now large, snarling animals, he saw Gamma, down and bloody, he saw the hole in the ground that hadn't been there. And he wasn't connecting any of the dots. His eyes were glossed over, and fell in and out of a hazy focus, or maybe that was just blinking. Too far gone to know, or to feel any shame at the sake of having to be carried like this, he just fell into as comfortable a slump as he could...
And passed out. 'Over' meant he could release himself, there was nothing else to watch, to make sure of. Maybe it had been willpower keeping him even vaguely alert, maybe it was just timing, but.
It would be a while before he came to again, either way.
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