Dog, Part 1, Chapter 3: The Time Is Now
Title: Dog, Part 1, Chapter 3: The Time Is Now
Series: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairings: some 8059, Tsuna, etc...
Rating: G for now
Notes: see here. And I always forget, but THANK YOU artillie for the awesome beta, as usual~
Dog, Part 1, Chapter 3: The Time Is Now
i can't be cool perché so già che l'indifferenza
chiude le porte dell'umanità
(I can’t be cool because I know already that indifference
Closes the gateway of humanity.)
~ Ilaria Graziano, I Can’t Be Cool
He looked straight into Mateo's eyes, and said plainly, "I said, call off the search team."
Something inside twisted and went numb when he said that. He smiled humorlessly as he returned to his work, feeling his guilt overwhelm him. He usually only felt this way when he took care of things behind the Tenth's back, working together with Yamamoto to pull some strings behind the scenes. But Yamamoto wasn't here anymore, was he - he was probably in an underground room somewhere, mutilated past belief. Would he even want to be buried next to his father like that, Gokudera wondered - or even before that, would he want Tsuna to see him like that? Or Gokudera?
It never mattered what he thought anyway, the idiot went off to do his own things often enough to tell Gokudera things were fine, progressing slowly as they were. But before Gokudera could get over his own apprehension of trusting Yamamoto further, he’d gotten himself killed. Now there was no tomorrow for whatever future developments their relationship might've had -
- and dammit, that hurt. The pain from last night as he looked around the house returned full blast, until he felt as if molten lava was scalding the inside of his chest where his heart should be. But it was the bastard who'd lied about always coming home, and Gokudera hated being lied to. The worst part was, he couldn't even yell at Yamamoto for it.
Then again, that might be good, because he wasn't sure what he'd say if he saw Yamamoto again. Wiping away some rain on his face and screaming non-stop about the danger of weapons and retards who got shot point-blank with them might be a good start. Of course, he wasn't coming back, so the realistic side of his brain just laughed hysterically as he tried to stop the wave of guilt from reaching over his head.
A flash of lightning outside burst into thunder, but Mateo didn't even blink as he continued to not-glare at Gokudera with all of his might. Gokudera muttered again when the noise subsided, "Is that all?"
"I don't approve of this, sir."
"I don't approve of your constant interrupting." Budgets needed to be corrected and approved, he tiredly reminded himself.
"My apologies and sincere condolences for my despicably disrespectful behavior, sir."
"I don't appreciate the sarcasm either, capistrano Mateo," Gokudera said, warning tone clear in his voice.
Mateo didn't back down, which secretly Gokudera nodded in agreement with. "That, I'm afraid, is hereditary, sir."
He could see why Yamamoto had chosen to promote this man to capo last winter - he had the same galling pigheadedness Yamamoto often sported. Right now, it was an unpleasant reminder, and at the same time, something to take into consideration. Yamamoto had been well-liked by literally everyone he'd met, which was pretty much everyone who had joined the Family's ranks after the ascension of the Tenth. With his easy-to-understand approach to life in the ranks of the Vongola Family, he'd been important to everybody's morale, and was thus owed the respect he earned during his time here...
The problem, of course, was who to put on it, because there was very few people privy to details of the Torino case in the first place, it was so small. Being a coldhearted bastard aside, Gokudera couldn't deny that there was a part of him that was just dying to find out who had the balls to destroy a part of his heart he hadn't even been aware existed before yesterday night - and fucking blow them to kingdom come.
Policy comes first, he gritted his teeth. The Family comes first. And the Tenth is the Family.
He blinked. That was it, wasn't it? What Tsuna wanted.
Still, he had appearances to keep, despite the sudden decision he'd made in his head. "The informant's testimony," he bit out tersely, knowing very well he was going against his usual policy for family casualties (that is, keep living and let go already). "Make sure there's a copy in my inbox by lunch."
Mateo's shoulders hitched and then relaxed even more than before, if possible. "Thank you, sir," he murmured quietly.
Gokudera hmph'd into his paperwork, signing off another document. "We pay you enough to get better cigarettes than the shit you smoke now, Mateo."
He could feel the smile more than hear it in the capo's reply: "Didn't you always push frugality on necessary vices, sir?"
And then Gokudera was left alone again, cursing his soft heart and his absent lump-of-a-roommate, lost in his thoughts as he massaged the space over his heart and prayed for the day he got over this to come quickly.
-----------
The scene blurred again and then he was leaning against the control board in their favorite practice room. Gokudera was right in front of him, trying to scratch all the sand out of his hair and read the classified section of the newspaper at the same time. It was a good thing the mansion had maids; Gokudera's new house wouldn't.
Yamamoto thought his grin would come out sickly and hesitant, but it didn't. Gokudera looked up and scoffed at the cat-in-the-cream look on his face, "Will you stop grinning and get over here?" He fluffed his hair like a girl, peering at the strands for split ends, before Yamamoto slung an arm around him and neatly tucked his chin over Gokudera's shoulder.
It was a testament to their years together that he didn't shove him off. All he did was roll his eyes a little and continue cleaning out his hair as if the swordsman wasn't even there. Yamamoto didn't know whether to read that as Gokudera feeling good because the practice session had gone well (they'd broken another level together, not that Gokudera didn't know what challenges the next one had) or if this meant he'd finally beaten the fight-and-flight mechanism out of his childhood friend.
"Lessee then...," he murmured, and blinked when silver hair puffed into his vision. Truthfully Gokudera looked like a disgruntled pigeon with his usually neat coif sticking out in all directions, not that Yamamoto was going to tell him that. "This one looks good. Two bedroom, two bath, kitchen, dining and family room. Good neighborhood, it's right on the edge of the Montessori district -"
"I don't have kids," Gokudera commented wryly, "and I don't plan to."
Yamamoto looked up at that, curiosity piqued despite himself. "Is this something you decided before you started looking for a house?"
Gokudera moved away to pour himself a cup from the coffee machine in the corner. He snorted at the question, "What, you think I wouldn't plan that far ahead or something?"
"I don't think the 10th would mind." Yamamoto took the easiest route first.
Gokudera looked at him strangely for that, as if he didn't quite understand why his most favorite person in the entire world was getting dragged into such a mundane conversation. "I know the 10th wouldn't mind, he wants more than anything for all of us to be happy. He writes it every year on his Tanabata tags."
Yamamoto chuckled. The sound echoed forcedly through the room, but the Storm Guardian smiled anyway. "Those are supposed to be for the gods to read," he admonished lightly, and was answered by the 'I know that already!' glare from the other side of the room. "Unless you're turning into a god, Gokudera."
"Hell no," the bomber muttered, "more responsibilities than I already have? It's a surprise none of us have died from a heart attack yet. Plus, if anyone was to become a god, it'd be the 10th." His voice went dreamy and soft. "Ah, he'd make such a compassionate and gentle deity..."
Yamamoto's stomach flip-flopped at the casual comment. On one hand, he had a love for Tsuna that rivaled that of Gokudera's sometimes, but on the other hand there was a traitorous little part of him that wondered if Gokudera would ever see past his beloved mafia boss. That was the part that made him sigh and turn back to the newspaper speckled with little grains of sand, reading absently through the tiny print. He could remember there were a couple of good ones, like one set halfway up a nearby hill that would offer a good view of the city. It wasn't so removed from the mansion either, which is why it became one of Hibari and Dino's hideaways later...
Gokudera must have gotten suspicious at the lack of 10th-worshipping, because his voice was sharply observant in his next question: "Did you have a fight with the 10th or something?"
Yamamoto turned back, genuinely confused. "Fight with Tsuna? No...why?"
Whatever expression he made must've satisfied Gokudera, because he turned back to his coffee. "You usually say something, that's all."
"Like what?"
Yamamoto watched him blow a frustrated sigh towards the ceiling, scattering his bangs like dandelion seeds. "Like 'Yeah, Tsuna's awesome' or 'That's our family's boss for you' or something."
"Maybe it's because I'm not that good at Italian yet?" Gokudera almost choked on his coffee, he was so quick to agree. "It might also be because I stopped that when I was sixteen, Gokudera. The 10th doesn't need words to describe his greatness - the people who love him understand that."
Probably because it was the deepest thing he'd said all day (not that 'Ow!' and 'This level is HARD!' really counted as philosophical), but Gokudera was silent for a little bit afterwards. Then he threw Yamamoto for a loop, "Does this - you mean, you love the 10th?"
The statement was blurted out so suddenly that Yamamoto found himself answering with the same blunt honesty, "Well - yes. He's my boss but also one of my oldest friends, and he's someone who tries his best to comprehend my situation and act accordingly... He's also pulled off some amazing things, so I respect him, but more than that I want to serve him to the utmost of my ability... Gokudera? What is this, anyway?"
But by this time Gokudera had firmly pasted on a frown on his face. "That," he pointed without any trace of hesitation. "You're looking in the wrong column. I want a house with three rooms."
Yamamoto began reading. "For your tinkering, right? But I don't get why you can't just -"
"No," and the barely-reigned in excitement was present in Gokudera's voice, but over what? "I need a third bedroom because you're going to move in with me."
He remembered there was a moment where he couldn’t move, his heart was pounding so loud in his ears. Then the sound ceased and he realized he was still staring at the Storm Guardian in a state of ill-disguised shock. His mind rebelled with images - Gokudera coming out of the shower with his hair all damp and dripping, Gokudera fighting him for the last piece of Chinese takeout, Gokudera nudging a cup of morning coffee towards him when no one else was there. Him and Gokudera and an entire house to themselves, nobody to open the door and interrupt them in the middle of an intimate moment -
- not that those existed anyway, as his brain was so fond of reminding him. Gokudera didn't have a romantic atom in his body as far as Yamamoto knew. And that was the way it was going to stay, if Yamamoto had any say in it.
Still, indignance crept into his voice when he answered emphatically, "NO."
Gokudera's face fell then, shoulders going limp with disappointment. Yamamoto distantly recalled that he was the one who labeled Gokudera the cat-person of the family - whimsical, attention-seeking, moody and temperamental all wrapped up in one little body. Right now though, he looked more like a kicked puppy with those pitiful eyes. "Why not?," the other Guardian asked, visibly trying not to sink to whining.
"Because -," because I would be tempted to jump your bones, "- I'm fine here, I like it in the mansion. Plus, wasn't it you who always said the Tenth needs one of us around for protection at all times?"
"Of course the Tenth needs protection all the time!" Yamamoto could almost see the fires of loyalty burning in the background. "But he was just saying the other day that maybe he needed a little space, he felt as if he was being suffocated with all the work he was given."
Yamamoto rather thought he was being suffocated with so much of the same company every day, but knew better than to say that out loud. "You also said Xanxus couldn't be trusted when Tsuna appointed him to advisor."
"That was before Rio de Janeiro!"
Yamamoto couldn't help it, he laughed. Gokudera glared at his obvious merriment, and huffily refilled his coffee cup. "And now?," Yamamoto pressed, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it out loud anyway.
Gokudera’s eyebrows bunched together over the rim as he pretended to drink. "He's alright," he conceded grudgingly as Yamamoto smiled at the thought of Tsuna and Xanxus upstairs, attacking the reams of paperwork together with no enthusiasm but plenty of determination. They made a good set, even if Tsuna was already engaged to Sasagawa Kyoko.
"If you asked sempai, he would agree." The Rain Guardian threw the suggestion out there as casually as he could.
But Gokudera picked up on it immediately. "Do you have some problem with me, then? Is that it?"
No problem at all, Gokudera. "No problem with you," Yamamoto reassured the other Guardian, "just I think this is a bit sudden. And I did agree back then, you know, about stationing one of us around Tsuna at all times. Not that it's necessary with the amount of power he can pull out, but maybe just to...," make sure he still remembers to eat and sleep, "...keep him company or something."
It was funny how he could feel relieved and crestfallen at the same time; Gokudera now had the look on his face that said he was seriously reconsidering. He was about to bring up Sasagawa-sempai again when abruptly Gokudera frowned again at whatever idea he had in his head, and muttered sarcastically, "No indeed."
"Gokudera?" It wasn't as if Gokudera didn't talk to himself - he did, quite often actually, especially when he was tinkering with his precious Sistema C.A.I. - then again, it was natural to feel a little apprehensive when Gokudera was imagining anything involving social relationships.
"I said no." The other Guardian's gaze swiveled to pin him against the control board. "You're going to live with me."
"May I ask why?," Yamamoto inquired politely.
Gokudera responded in a way Yamamoto almost never saw: his mouth opened and closed as his eyebrows got all bunched as he tried to convey his message without words (but the swordsman was relatively sure neither of them were telepaths), his hands made vicious little circles in the air as if he was trying to outline...something, but all Yamamoto could do was follow all the motions and cues and keep from laughing out loud again.
"I just - the Tenth said -," the Tenth?, "- he said maybe... Ugh, will you just move in with me?!"
Inwardly he was hilariously tickled by the show of reticence Gokudera displayed rather than the lack of an honest reason. Of course, they were also guys, so communicating with flowery words was overrated - but sometimes reasons needed saying. That was precisely the thing Gokudera had yet to learn, if his spluttering was any indication. "Not until you give me a reason, Gokudera," he encouraged.
The Storm Guardian blew out another peevish sigh and snapped, "You're a good go-fer, alright? We need to work on the follow up for Rio de Janeiro anyway, so might as well."
Not a single word of 'I enjoy your company' or 'You're a good friend' in there, but Yamamoto was past expecting those things. It simply wasn't the bomber's preferred method of communication - that would be Gokudera-speech, replete with curses and unsaid tripwires that one only discovered after setting them off. No, it was enough that Gokudera had gone so far out on a limb that could've been shot down like it was. Yamamoto really, truly believed that.
If his smile was a little tremulous and crooked, Gokudera didn't notice. "Sure," he replied, and wondered for the millionth time, just what had he gotten himself into when he started hanging out with these impossible people?
-----------
"Thank you all for coming," the Tenth greeted customarily from behind the giant barrier of his rosewood desk. Behind him, the rain plastered against the window in between the spaces where the blinds were still half-open. Xanxus stood to Tsuna's right with his regular scowl of indifference nailed to his face. It would look funny to anyone else, an ex-rebel protecting what he would rather have destroyed in the past, but everyone in the room was perfectly serious as attention focused on the one and only tenth head of the Vongola family.
Gokudera took a moment to note the people present. A couple of capos, Mateo not included as he was probably still off arranging Echo squad's pullout strategy, and then the regular group of brainless goons that made up the Guardianship and their immediate subordinates. Lambo was draped in the far chair, eyes surprisingly dry as he met the bomber's gaze head on, before turning away again. Ryohei and his favorite capo were in attendance as well, leaning against the far wall with grave expressions. Hibari had returned a week ago, but as usual it was Kusakabe who'd folded his legs in as far as possible to accommodate three other people on the couch directly across from the Tenth's desk.
The two surprises were standing in the back - Chrome, the hood of her sweatshirt down as she looked out of her eternally sixteen-year-old illusionary body, and Levi, who kept a full foot between himself and everybody else. Gokudera looked away again; it probably had to do with the new technique he was working on, something about static electricity. Ryohei had submitted a report about it three weeks ago. It had never left the "abandoned" pile on the floor to the right of Gokudera’s desk.
But the Tenth had started speaking. "As you may or may not know, three days ago Rain Guardian Yamamoto Takeshi was reported missing in action. Late last night an informant in the Torino Family verified that he is indeed dead." He took a moment to let the bluntness of the statement sink in completely; Gokudera took that time to study the ever-changing patterns of the rain on the window over Tsuna's shoulder as if he were to die. "A decision has been made to pull Echo squad off of the search in light of priorities elsewhere. As of," the don glanced at his watch, "Eight ten on January twenty-seventh, I hereby declare all attempts to pursue or contact the Torino Family against policy, and therefore subject to personal investigation. This will be in effect until someone's schedule clears up enough so they can take this case."
Taking advantage of the pause, Ryohei stepped forward. The ends of his hair dripped with water, as did the sleeves of his fine suit. He looked as if he'd just taken a ride on Yamamoto's motorcycle to catch some rain in his mouth for an hour - which was highly possible, because the vehicle was still in Sasagawa's garage, as far as Gokudera knew. He'd overheard their plans to tinker around a bit on the next weekend after Yamamoto returned from what was supposed to be a fucking cakewalk.
"Are you okay, boss?" The question was unnecessary, but like the absent - recently deceased, his brain reminded him - swordsman, Ryohei had always been the type to bring subject out into the open.
From the look on Tsuna's face, he was thinking the exact same thing as Gokudera. "No," he murmured, an ironic smile playing around his lips. "But thank you."
The Sun Guardian nodded and stepped back again.
Gokudera’s hand scribbled into his palm pilot half-consciously as Tsuna gave the rest of the instructions. He didn’t look up until the don said, “I give Sicario Milan to Squalo, should he choose to accept -"
"Squalo doesn't know," Levi shifted from one to the other, gaze fixed somewhere on the long table set between the couches. "I didn't know either, until you said it just now."
The statement sank like a stone through what was probably the Tenth's worst day yet, Gokudera reflected. He could see it mirrored in his boss' face like some ridiculous echo of his own emotions: regret, frustration, self-hatred. The only difference was that Tsuna probably bought into Yamamoto's bid for invincibility even more than Gokudera ever did. Now that it was shattered so completely...don and consigliere had come from different backgrounds, both were fully aware of that fact, and yet right now in this moment, Gokudera was sure only Tsuna could possibly match his level of sheer anguish.
"Kusakabe," the Tenth closed his eyes briefly as if in pain, "I don't know why the Varia weren't informed, but please do so now. If this is a personal infringement on Hibari's part, inform him I will need a written apology."
"Not Kyou-san's mistake, sir. Mine," the second-in-command looked like he was about to get down on his hands and knees and grovel, if Tsuna's intense look of disapproval hadn't frozen him to the spot already. "I'll get on it immediately." And with that the darkened stormcloud in the room lifted as the intelligence vice-officer excused himself, already punching memorized numbers into his cell.
"To continue," the Tenth intoned, "Brazil will go to Chrome. Yamamoto reported something fishy was going on in the numbers, and his next assignment was going to be to check up personally on the factories. He also said something about timing being crucial - but also that he met Mukuro while he was there. I suppose you know more?" Chrome nodded; Gokudera observed the minute shaking of Tsuna's hands where they were clenched over his desk. "Then please finish up in Japan as soon as possible."
"Yes, boss," the sole female Guardian agreed in her still-sweet voice. "Mukuro-sama wishes to send his condolences, and repeat Sasagawa-san's question."
"Relay the same," the Tenth sank deeper into the chair, chin on the bridge of his clasped hands. He leaned back until the chair back touched Xanxus' arm; the advisor held the seatback steady without looking down, face still stony. Only the slight stiffness in his movements hinted there might be regret under that silence as well.
"Everything else will be arranged according to Yamamoto's will, updated last month on the fifteenth. Questions, concerns, and suggestions should be sent here," Tsuna lifted his cellphone, which was already blinking red with what was probably Superbi Squalo's response to the belated newsflash. "Other than that, I think Yamamoto's business is mostly taken care of, unless anyone else has any questions?"
Chrome gave a little tilt of her head. "Mukuro-sama wishes to ask who he should honor the pleasure of personally killing?"
“What?” Looking frazzled, Tsuna gave her a bleary-eyed look of ill-hidden panic. Gokudera almost felt relieved, it looked so familiar - and then the circumstances crashed down around his ears around and pushed that feeling out.
Chrome’s voice was prim and internally guided. “Just for our own protection, of course.”
The Tenth frowned at her, narrowed-eyed in suspicion, before abruptly his expression crumbled into acceptance. "Policy-breaking aside, our only lead is that of the Torino Family, who has gone into hiding. A shakedown of the rest of the Alliance is in progress, and will probably be completed next week." He sounded as if he were reading from a textbook, except it had an even deader feel to it. "I don't have much hope; if someone had information, they would have broken after three days and come forward already." A sigh, most likely in remembrance of the insulted look on Dino's face. Gokudera was a little worried, actually - his beloved boss was moving the meeting along at a snail's crawl, unlike his usual in-and-outs that rarely took more than twenty minutes.
Then again, everyone seemed slow-moving today, probably because of the rain or the depressing circumstances. Looking a second time at people’s faces, Gokudera noted they all carried varied levels of whatever emotion was stamped on his face too.
"Questions?," the Tenth prompted. The Storm Guardian took a moment to watch his boss rub at the vertical line between his brows. It hadn't been there when he was eighteen, fresh out of college and hurtled face-forward into the position of the Tenth. It seemed to be a constant accessory these days, much like Gokudera's lighter or Yamamoto's sword. That wasn't a comforting thought in the least; it reminded Gokudera that it'd almost been ten years since he met the Tenth, and none of them were getting younger in body or mentality.
As the congregation split into worried deliberation, Gokudera watched his boss. Tsuna didn’t give any more than the occasional yes or no reply, preferring to scan their individual faces one-by-one in the murmuring that followed. He started on the far end, over the heads of seconds standing in for absent Guardians (Kusakabe on the couch being one of them) and then Gokudera standing a little to the side. The consigliere casually tapped his wrist and then straightened the collar on his shirt. Tsuna's eyes lingered on him a little longer before they moved on, staring into the expressions of each person as he filed away their emotional levels. The last was Lambo, who met the patient gaze with straight on, until he looked down again and suddenly stuffed his fists into his eyes. The Tenth adjourned the meeting to the sound of his youngest Guardian's broken sobbing.
Gokudera had to wait until everyone else had given their customary three-sentence check-ins before Tsuna wordlessly held up two umbrellas and tilted his head towards him. He was just about to take the red one -
"Gokudera," the personal advisor to the tenth Vongola boss said from behind him. While Tsuna simply looked on in confusion, the Storm Guardian turned slowly, frantically trying to think if he'd done anything wrong or said anything weird during the meeting. But Xanxus didn't say a word, just gave him a once-over, assessing his mood. The years had done a (thankfully) good job of cooling down that legendary acidic temper, though once in a while they still got to see it when the don and his first advisor came to Gokudera to schedule a practice round in the Sistema C.A.I. That deep voice in its gravely snarl still had the effect of inducing people to wet themselves, no matter what was being said.
"Xanxus," he greeted back warily.
The other just wordlessly handed him a clear envelope which - shit, his brain supplied, because that was the only word for it - held the full documentation of every report and every action Yamamoto had ever taken for the family. He would have thought it'd taken more than a few hundred pages...but apparently, human lives were just that insignificant.
"Ready to go?," Tsuna asked, shrugging on his rain jacket for good measure. The bomber nodded and led the way.
The two of them left Xanxus behind and went out onto the veranda with umbrellas in hand. Gokudera watched the rain ping off of the glass patio table with the numb sensation of having lost his voice from screaming without actually doing so. His boss just stared mutely over the gardens, lips pressed together in a near invisible line. Gokudera didn't have to be the Tenth to recognize the conflict spiraling out of control inside of the shorter man right now; if he really wanted to know what that expression felt like, all he had to do was look in a mirror.
It was a horrible but appropriate time to remember the Tenth's stern face as he took his vows with the morbid backdrop of the 9th with his brains blown out against the back wall: ...massimo delle mie possibilità e prometto che i miei sei guardiani mi seguiranno in questo... Con la vita e con la morte io difenderò questa famiglia. Yamamoto had knelt and kissed that blue stone then, like Gokudera and Xanxus and Basil. But the stupid baseball idiot might have been the only one that smiled when he did so.
"Gokudera," Tsuna's voice broke through his thoughts. Light brown eyes studied him, prompting him to speak as personal feelings were set aside for whatever the bomber had to say.
"Tenth," Gokudera returned, and touched his right hand to his forehead to make it a little more serious. "I have a request - or rather, a warning of sorts." When the don turned fully towards him, he continued, "I'm going after Yamamoto's body."
"This goes against family policy," the Tenth replied calmly, though the bomber could read the vengeful fire that roared to life at Gokudera's words in every cell in that suddenly interested posture.
"I am aware," he answered, throat dry. He was going to do this even if it cost him his position. The sick feeling he got when he told Mateo no the first time - disgust roiled in his stomach at the memory. For once he was going to do it the idiot lug-way: believing that there was always a way out, that there was always a solution that hadn't been attempted yet that would satisfy everyone. Of course, it always seemed to sound less cheesy coming from Yamamoto himself, but that (as he was fond of reminding himself every waking moment of the day) was impossible now, so he would just have to make do with himself. Now it was just a matter if Tsuna would be willing to bend the rules a little for the sake of an age-old friendship, or insist on following policy...
Tsuna gave a weak little smile and answered, "You have my blessing, Gokudera." Of course that would be the answer - the Tenth was ever-considerate and flexible despite the constraints of his role in the family. "But not my protection." Also predictable and avoidable; Gokudera had plenty clout himself.
"Thank you, Tenth." The words came out in a relieved rush, and for the first time in three days, Gokudera found he was able to smile, albeit exhaustedly. His boss did the same a heartbeat later, eyes weary where they traced his Guardian's features. Suddenly Gokudera wanted to reach out and...do something to alleviate that smile that looked so perilously close to crying. Take his hand or something, or clap him on the shoulder - and then he wondered what was stopping him, and did so.
His cold fingers traced down his boss' face, pressing at the corners of the other man's eyes. Tsuna's body visibly deflated where he stood, leaning a little into Gokudera's hand where it cupped his cheek. The old feeling of their teenage years, that inseparable sensation, hummed back to life. Things were again being said without actually saying them: It's not fair, I'm lost without him, It should have been me. Gokudera reached out blindly and caught the hot trickle of water tracing Tsuna's jaw. The Tenth boss of the Vongola Family, hunched in his big black coat and his faded yellow umbrella, stifled Gokudera's sob with his palm before it could be heard. Their heads leaned together where they stood huddled under their scant shelter from the storm; breath puffed warmly between them as their arms tightened around each other, wishing they didn't have to move past this, wishing time wouldn't slowly seal away their memories of Yamamoto.
In the pattering of the rain, they mourned.
-------------
D: Should I continue being mesmerized or should I actually feel jealous?
Series: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairings: some 8059, Tsuna, etc...
Rating: G for now
Notes: see here. And I always forget, but THANK YOU artillie for the awesome beta, as usual~
Dog, Part 1, Chapter 3: The Time Is Now
i can't be cool perché so già che l'indifferenza
chiude le porte dell'umanità
(I can’t be cool because I know already that indifference
Closes the gateway of humanity.)
~ Ilaria Graziano, I Can’t Be Cool
He looked straight into Mateo's eyes, and said plainly, "I said, call off the search team."
Something inside twisted and went numb when he said that. He smiled humorlessly as he returned to his work, feeling his guilt overwhelm him. He usually only felt this way when he took care of things behind the Tenth's back, working together with Yamamoto to pull some strings behind the scenes. But Yamamoto wasn't here anymore, was he - he was probably in an underground room somewhere, mutilated past belief. Would he even want to be buried next to his father like that, Gokudera wondered - or even before that, would he want Tsuna to see him like that? Or Gokudera?
It never mattered what he thought anyway, the idiot went off to do his own things often enough to tell Gokudera things were fine, progressing slowly as they were. But before Gokudera could get over his own apprehension of trusting Yamamoto further, he’d gotten himself killed. Now there was no tomorrow for whatever future developments their relationship might've had -
- and dammit, that hurt. The pain from last night as he looked around the house returned full blast, until he felt as if molten lava was scalding the inside of his chest where his heart should be. But it was the bastard who'd lied about always coming home, and Gokudera hated being lied to. The worst part was, he couldn't even yell at Yamamoto for it.
Then again, that might be good, because he wasn't sure what he'd say if he saw Yamamoto again. Wiping away some rain on his face and screaming non-stop about the danger of weapons and retards who got shot point-blank with them might be a good start. Of course, he wasn't coming back, so the realistic side of his brain just laughed hysterically as he tried to stop the wave of guilt from reaching over his head.
A flash of lightning outside burst into thunder, but Mateo didn't even blink as he continued to not-glare at Gokudera with all of his might. Gokudera muttered again when the noise subsided, "Is that all?"
"I don't approve of this, sir."
"I don't approve of your constant interrupting." Budgets needed to be corrected and approved, he tiredly reminded himself.
"My apologies and sincere condolences for my despicably disrespectful behavior, sir."
"I don't appreciate the sarcasm either, capistrano Mateo," Gokudera said, warning tone clear in his voice.
Mateo didn't back down, which secretly Gokudera nodded in agreement with. "That, I'm afraid, is hereditary, sir."
He could see why Yamamoto had chosen to promote this man to capo last winter - he had the same galling pigheadedness Yamamoto often sported. Right now, it was an unpleasant reminder, and at the same time, something to take into consideration. Yamamoto had been well-liked by literally everyone he'd met, which was pretty much everyone who had joined the Family's ranks after the ascension of the Tenth. With his easy-to-understand approach to life in the ranks of the Vongola Family, he'd been important to everybody's morale, and was thus owed the respect he earned during his time here...
The problem, of course, was who to put on it, because there was very few people privy to details of the Torino case in the first place, it was so small. Being a coldhearted bastard aside, Gokudera couldn't deny that there was a part of him that was just dying to find out who had the balls to destroy a part of his heart he hadn't even been aware existed before yesterday night - and fucking blow them to kingdom come.
Policy comes first, he gritted his teeth. The Family comes first. And the Tenth is the Family.
He blinked. That was it, wasn't it? What Tsuna wanted.
Still, he had appearances to keep, despite the sudden decision he'd made in his head. "The informant's testimony," he bit out tersely, knowing very well he was going against his usual policy for family casualties (that is, keep living and let go already). "Make sure there's a copy in my inbox by lunch."
Mateo's shoulders hitched and then relaxed even more than before, if possible. "Thank you, sir," he murmured quietly.
Gokudera hmph'd into his paperwork, signing off another document. "We pay you enough to get better cigarettes than the shit you smoke now, Mateo."
He could feel the smile more than hear it in the capo's reply: "Didn't you always push frugality on necessary vices, sir?"
And then Gokudera was left alone again, cursing his soft heart and his absent lump-of-a-roommate, lost in his thoughts as he massaged the space over his heart and prayed for the day he got over this to come quickly.
-----------
The scene blurred again and then he was leaning against the control board in their favorite practice room. Gokudera was right in front of him, trying to scratch all the sand out of his hair and read the classified section of the newspaper at the same time. It was a good thing the mansion had maids; Gokudera's new house wouldn't.
Yamamoto thought his grin would come out sickly and hesitant, but it didn't. Gokudera looked up and scoffed at the cat-in-the-cream look on his face, "Will you stop grinning and get over here?" He fluffed his hair like a girl, peering at the strands for split ends, before Yamamoto slung an arm around him and neatly tucked his chin over Gokudera's shoulder.
It was a testament to their years together that he didn't shove him off. All he did was roll his eyes a little and continue cleaning out his hair as if the swordsman wasn't even there. Yamamoto didn't know whether to read that as Gokudera feeling good because the practice session had gone well (they'd broken another level together, not that Gokudera didn't know what challenges the next one had) or if this meant he'd finally beaten the fight-and-flight mechanism out of his childhood friend.
"Lessee then...," he murmured, and blinked when silver hair puffed into his vision. Truthfully Gokudera looked like a disgruntled pigeon with his usually neat coif sticking out in all directions, not that Yamamoto was going to tell him that. "This one looks good. Two bedroom, two bath, kitchen, dining and family room. Good neighborhood, it's right on the edge of the Montessori district -"
"I don't have kids," Gokudera commented wryly, "and I don't plan to."
Yamamoto looked up at that, curiosity piqued despite himself. "Is this something you decided before you started looking for a house?"
Gokudera moved away to pour himself a cup from the coffee machine in the corner. He snorted at the question, "What, you think I wouldn't plan that far ahead or something?"
"I don't think the 10th would mind." Yamamoto took the easiest route first.
Gokudera looked at him strangely for that, as if he didn't quite understand why his most favorite person in the entire world was getting dragged into such a mundane conversation. "I know the 10th wouldn't mind, he wants more than anything for all of us to be happy. He writes it every year on his Tanabata tags."
Yamamoto chuckled. The sound echoed forcedly through the room, but the Storm Guardian smiled anyway. "Those are supposed to be for the gods to read," he admonished lightly, and was answered by the 'I know that already!' glare from the other side of the room. "Unless you're turning into a god, Gokudera."
"Hell no," the bomber muttered, "more responsibilities than I already have? It's a surprise none of us have died from a heart attack yet. Plus, if anyone was to become a god, it'd be the 10th." His voice went dreamy and soft. "Ah, he'd make such a compassionate and gentle deity..."
Yamamoto's stomach flip-flopped at the casual comment. On one hand, he had a love for Tsuna that rivaled that of Gokudera's sometimes, but on the other hand there was a traitorous little part of him that wondered if Gokudera would ever see past his beloved mafia boss. That was the part that made him sigh and turn back to the newspaper speckled with little grains of sand, reading absently through the tiny print. He could remember there were a couple of good ones, like one set halfway up a nearby hill that would offer a good view of the city. It wasn't so removed from the mansion either, which is why it became one of Hibari and Dino's hideaways later...
Gokudera must have gotten suspicious at the lack of 10th-worshipping, because his voice was sharply observant in his next question: "Did you have a fight with the 10th or something?"
Yamamoto turned back, genuinely confused. "Fight with Tsuna? No...why?"
Whatever expression he made must've satisfied Gokudera, because he turned back to his coffee. "You usually say something, that's all."
"Like what?"
Yamamoto watched him blow a frustrated sigh towards the ceiling, scattering his bangs like dandelion seeds. "Like 'Yeah, Tsuna's awesome' or 'That's our family's boss for you' or something."
"Maybe it's because I'm not that good at Italian yet?" Gokudera almost choked on his coffee, he was so quick to agree. "It might also be because I stopped that when I was sixteen, Gokudera. The 10th doesn't need words to describe his greatness - the people who love him understand that."
Probably because it was the deepest thing he'd said all day (not that 'Ow!' and 'This level is HARD!' really counted as philosophical), but Gokudera was silent for a little bit afterwards. Then he threw Yamamoto for a loop, "Does this - you mean, you love the 10th?"
The statement was blurted out so suddenly that Yamamoto found himself answering with the same blunt honesty, "Well - yes. He's my boss but also one of my oldest friends, and he's someone who tries his best to comprehend my situation and act accordingly... He's also pulled off some amazing things, so I respect him, but more than that I want to serve him to the utmost of my ability... Gokudera? What is this, anyway?"
But by this time Gokudera had firmly pasted on a frown on his face. "That," he pointed without any trace of hesitation. "You're looking in the wrong column. I want a house with three rooms."
Yamamoto began reading. "For your tinkering, right? But I don't get why you can't just -"
"No," and the barely-reigned in excitement was present in Gokudera's voice, but over what? "I need a third bedroom because you're going to move in with me."
He remembered there was a moment where he couldn’t move, his heart was pounding so loud in his ears. Then the sound ceased and he realized he was still staring at the Storm Guardian in a state of ill-disguised shock. His mind rebelled with images - Gokudera coming out of the shower with his hair all damp and dripping, Gokudera fighting him for the last piece of Chinese takeout, Gokudera nudging a cup of morning coffee towards him when no one else was there. Him and Gokudera and an entire house to themselves, nobody to open the door and interrupt them in the middle of an intimate moment -
- not that those existed anyway, as his brain was so fond of reminding him. Gokudera didn't have a romantic atom in his body as far as Yamamoto knew. And that was the way it was going to stay, if Yamamoto had any say in it.
Still, indignance crept into his voice when he answered emphatically, "NO."
Gokudera's face fell then, shoulders going limp with disappointment. Yamamoto distantly recalled that he was the one who labeled Gokudera the cat-person of the family - whimsical, attention-seeking, moody and temperamental all wrapped up in one little body. Right now though, he looked more like a kicked puppy with those pitiful eyes. "Why not?," the other Guardian asked, visibly trying not to sink to whining.
"Because -," because I would be tempted to jump your bones, "- I'm fine here, I like it in the mansion. Plus, wasn't it you who always said the Tenth needs one of us around for protection at all times?"
"Of course the Tenth needs protection all the time!" Yamamoto could almost see the fires of loyalty burning in the background. "But he was just saying the other day that maybe he needed a little space, he felt as if he was being suffocated with all the work he was given."
Yamamoto rather thought he was being suffocated with so much of the same company every day, but knew better than to say that out loud. "You also said Xanxus couldn't be trusted when Tsuna appointed him to advisor."
"That was before Rio de Janeiro!"
Yamamoto couldn't help it, he laughed. Gokudera glared at his obvious merriment, and huffily refilled his coffee cup. "And now?," Yamamoto pressed, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it out loud anyway.
Gokudera’s eyebrows bunched together over the rim as he pretended to drink. "He's alright," he conceded grudgingly as Yamamoto smiled at the thought of Tsuna and Xanxus upstairs, attacking the reams of paperwork together with no enthusiasm but plenty of determination. They made a good set, even if Tsuna was already engaged to Sasagawa Kyoko.
"If you asked sempai, he would agree." The Rain Guardian threw the suggestion out there as casually as he could.
But Gokudera picked up on it immediately. "Do you have some problem with me, then? Is that it?"
No problem at all, Gokudera. "No problem with you," Yamamoto reassured the other Guardian, "just I think this is a bit sudden. And I did agree back then, you know, about stationing one of us around Tsuna at all times. Not that it's necessary with the amount of power he can pull out, but maybe just to...," make sure he still remembers to eat and sleep, "...keep him company or something."
It was funny how he could feel relieved and crestfallen at the same time; Gokudera now had the look on his face that said he was seriously reconsidering. He was about to bring up Sasagawa-sempai again when abruptly Gokudera frowned again at whatever idea he had in his head, and muttered sarcastically, "No indeed."
"Gokudera?" It wasn't as if Gokudera didn't talk to himself - he did, quite often actually, especially when he was tinkering with his precious Sistema C.A.I. - then again, it was natural to feel a little apprehensive when Gokudera was imagining anything involving social relationships.
"I said no." The other Guardian's gaze swiveled to pin him against the control board. "You're going to live with me."
"May I ask why?," Yamamoto inquired politely.
Gokudera responded in a way Yamamoto almost never saw: his mouth opened and closed as his eyebrows got all bunched as he tried to convey his message without words (but the swordsman was relatively sure neither of them were telepaths), his hands made vicious little circles in the air as if he was trying to outline...something, but all Yamamoto could do was follow all the motions and cues and keep from laughing out loud again.
"I just - the Tenth said -," the Tenth?, "- he said maybe... Ugh, will you just move in with me?!"
Inwardly he was hilariously tickled by the show of reticence Gokudera displayed rather than the lack of an honest reason. Of course, they were also guys, so communicating with flowery words was overrated - but sometimes reasons needed saying. That was precisely the thing Gokudera had yet to learn, if his spluttering was any indication. "Not until you give me a reason, Gokudera," he encouraged.
The Storm Guardian blew out another peevish sigh and snapped, "You're a good go-fer, alright? We need to work on the follow up for Rio de Janeiro anyway, so might as well."
Not a single word of 'I enjoy your company' or 'You're a good friend' in there, but Yamamoto was past expecting those things. It simply wasn't the bomber's preferred method of communication - that would be Gokudera-speech, replete with curses and unsaid tripwires that one only discovered after setting them off. No, it was enough that Gokudera had gone so far out on a limb that could've been shot down like it was. Yamamoto really, truly believed that.
If his smile was a little tremulous and crooked, Gokudera didn't notice. "Sure," he replied, and wondered for the millionth time, just what had he gotten himself into when he started hanging out with these impossible people?
-----------
"Thank you all for coming," the Tenth greeted customarily from behind the giant barrier of his rosewood desk. Behind him, the rain plastered against the window in between the spaces where the blinds were still half-open. Xanxus stood to Tsuna's right with his regular scowl of indifference nailed to his face. It would look funny to anyone else, an ex-rebel protecting what he would rather have destroyed in the past, but everyone in the room was perfectly serious as attention focused on the one and only tenth head of the Vongola family.
Gokudera took a moment to note the people present. A couple of capos, Mateo not included as he was probably still off arranging Echo squad's pullout strategy, and then the regular group of brainless goons that made up the Guardianship and their immediate subordinates. Lambo was draped in the far chair, eyes surprisingly dry as he met the bomber's gaze head on, before turning away again. Ryohei and his favorite capo were in attendance as well, leaning against the far wall with grave expressions. Hibari had returned a week ago, but as usual it was Kusakabe who'd folded his legs in as far as possible to accommodate three other people on the couch directly across from the Tenth's desk.
The two surprises were standing in the back - Chrome, the hood of her sweatshirt down as she looked out of her eternally sixteen-year-old illusionary body, and Levi, who kept a full foot between himself and everybody else. Gokudera looked away again; it probably had to do with the new technique he was working on, something about static electricity. Ryohei had submitted a report about it three weeks ago. It had never left the "abandoned" pile on the floor to the right of Gokudera’s desk.
But the Tenth had started speaking. "As you may or may not know, three days ago Rain Guardian Yamamoto Takeshi was reported missing in action. Late last night an informant in the Torino Family verified that he is indeed dead." He took a moment to let the bluntness of the statement sink in completely; Gokudera took that time to study the ever-changing patterns of the rain on the window over Tsuna's shoulder as if he were to die. "A decision has been made to pull Echo squad off of the search in light of priorities elsewhere. As of," the don glanced at his watch, "Eight ten on January twenty-seventh, I hereby declare all attempts to pursue or contact the Torino Family against policy, and therefore subject to personal investigation. This will be in effect until someone's schedule clears up enough so they can take this case."
Taking advantage of the pause, Ryohei stepped forward. The ends of his hair dripped with water, as did the sleeves of his fine suit. He looked as if he'd just taken a ride on Yamamoto's motorcycle to catch some rain in his mouth for an hour - which was highly possible, because the vehicle was still in Sasagawa's garage, as far as Gokudera knew. He'd overheard their plans to tinker around a bit on the next weekend after Yamamoto returned from what was supposed to be a fucking cakewalk.
"Are you okay, boss?" The question was unnecessary, but like the absent - recently deceased, his brain reminded him - swordsman, Ryohei had always been the type to bring subject out into the open.
From the look on Tsuna's face, he was thinking the exact same thing as Gokudera. "No," he murmured, an ironic smile playing around his lips. "But thank you."
The Sun Guardian nodded and stepped back again.
Gokudera’s hand scribbled into his palm pilot half-consciously as Tsuna gave the rest of the instructions. He didn’t look up until the don said, “I give Sicario Milan to Squalo, should he choose to accept -"
"Squalo doesn't know," Levi shifted from one to the other, gaze fixed somewhere on the long table set between the couches. "I didn't know either, until you said it just now."
The statement sank like a stone through what was probably the Tenth's worst day yet, Gokudera reflected. He could see it mirrored in his boss' face like some ridiculous echo of his own emotions: regret, frustration, self-hatred. The only difference was that Tsuna probably bought into Yamamoto's bid for invincibility even more than Gokudera ever did. Now that it was shattered so completely...don and consigliere had come from different backgrounds, both were fully aware of that fact, and yet right now in this moment, Gokudera was sure only Tsuna could possibly match his level of sheer anguish.
"Kusakabe," the Tenth closed his eyes briefly as if in pain, "I don't know why the Varia weren't informed, but please do so now. If this is a personal infringement on Hibari's part, inform him I will need a written apology."
"Not Kyou-san's mistake, sir. Mine," the second-in-command looked like he was about to get down on his hands and knees and grovel, if Tsuna's intense look of disapproval hadn't frozen him to the spot already. "I'll get on it immediately." And with that the darkened stormcloud in the room lifted as the intelligence vice-officer excused himself, already punching memorized numbers into his cell.
"To continue," the Tenth intoned, "Brazil will go to Chrome. Yamamoto reported something fishy was going on in the numbers, and his next assignment was going to be to check up personally on the factories. He also said something about timing being crucial - but also that he met Mukuro while he was there. I suppose you know more?" Chrome nodded; Gokudera observed the minute shaking of Tsuna's hands where they were clenched over his desk. "Then please finish up in Japan as soon as possible."
"Yes, boss," the sole female Guardian agreed in her still-sweet voice. "Mukuro-sama wishes to send his condolences, and repeat Sasagawa-san's question."
"Relay the same," the Tenth sank deeper into the chair, chin on the bridge of his clasped hands. He leaned back until the chair back touched Xanxus' arm; the advisor held the seatback steady without looking down, face still stony. Only the slight stiffness in his movements hinted there might be regret under that silence as well.
"Everything else will be arranged according to Yamamoto's will, updated last month on the fifteenth. Questions, concerns, and suggestions should be sent here," Tsuna lifted his cellphone, which was already blinking red with what was probably Superbi Squalo's response to the belated newsflash. "Other than that, I think Yamamoto's business is mostly taken care of, unless anyone else has any questions?"
Chrome gave a little tilt of her head. "Mukuro-sama wishes to ask who he should honor the pleasure of personally killing?"
“What?” Looking frazzled, Tsuna gave her a bleary-eyed look of ill-hidden panic. Gokudera almost felt relieved, it looked so familiar - and then the circumstances crashed down around his ears around and pushed that feeling out.
Chrome’s voice was prim and internally guided. “Just for our own protection, of course.”
The Tenth frowned at her, narrowed-eyed in suspicion, before abruptly his expression crumbled into acceptance. "Policy-breaking aside, our only lead is that of the Torino Family, who has gone into hiding. A shakedown of the rest of the Alliance is in progress, and will probably be completed next week." He sounded as if he were reading from a textbook, except it had an even deader feel to it. "I don't have much hope; if someone had information, they would have broken after three days and come forward already." A sigh, most likely in remembrance of the insulted look on Dino's face. Gokudera was a little worried, actually - his beloved boss was moving the meeting along at a snail's crawl, unlike his usual in-and-outs that rarely took more than twenty minutes.
Then again, everyone seemed slow-moving today, probably because of the rain or the depressing circumstances. Looking a second time at people’s faces, Gokudera noted they all carried varied levels of whatever emotion was stamped on his face too.
"Questions?," the Tenth prompted. The Storm Guardian took a moment to watch his boss rub at the vertical line between his brows. It hadn't been there when he was eighteen, fresh out of college and hurtled face-forward into the position of the Tenth. It seemed to be a constant accessory these days, much like Gokudera's lighter or Yamamoto's sword. That wasn't a comforting thought in the least; it reminded Gokudera that it'd almost been ten years since he met the Tenth, and none of them were getting younger in body or mentality.
As the congregation split into worried deliberation, Gokudera watched his boss. Tsuna didn’t give any more than the occasional yes or no reply, preferring to scan their individual faces one-by-one in the murmuring that followed. He started on the far end, over the heads of seconds standing in for absent Guardians (Kusakabe on the couch being one of them) and then Gokudera standing a little to the side. The consigliere casually tapped his wrist and then straightened the collar on his shirt. Tsuna's eyes lingered on him a little longer before they moved on, staring into the expressions of each person as he filed away their emotional levels. The last was Lambo, who met the patient gaze with straight on, until he looked down again and suddenly stuffed his fists into his eyes. The Tenth adjourned the meeting to the sound of his youngest Guardian's broken sobbing.
Gokudera had to wait until everyone else had given their customary three-sentence check-ins before Tsuna wordlessly held up two umbrellas and tilted his head towards him. He was just about to take the red one -
"Gokudera," the personal advisor to the tenth Vongola boss said from behind him. While Tsuna simply looked on in confusion, the Storm Guardian turned slowly, frantically trying to think if he'd done anything wrong or said anything weird during the meeting. But Xanxus didn't say a word, just gave him a once-over, assessing his mood. The years had done a (thankfully) good job of cooling down that legendary acidic temper, though once in a while they still got to see it when the don and his first advisor came to Gokudera to schedule a practice round in the Sistema C.A.I. That deep voice in its gravely snarl still had the effect of inducing people to wet themselves, no matter what was being said.
"Xanxus," he greeted back warily.
The other just wordlessly handed him a clear envelope which - shit, his brain supplied, because that was the only word for it - held the full documentation of every report and every action Yamamoto had ever taken for the family. He would have thought it'd taken more than a few hundred pages...but apparently, human lives were just that insignificant.
"Ready to go?," Tsuna asked, shrugging on his rain jacket for good measure. The bomber nodded and led the way.
The two of them left Xanxus behind and went out onto the veranda with umbrellas in hand. Gokudera watched the rain ping off of the glass patio table with the numb sensation of having lost his voice from screaming without actually doing so. His boss just stared mutely over the gardens, lips pressed together in a near invisible line. Gokudera didn't have to be the Tenth to recognize the conflict spiraling out of control inside of the shorter man right now; if he really wanted to know what that expression felt like, all he had to do was look in a mirror.
It was a horrible but appropriate time to remember the Tenth's stern face as he took his vows with the morbid backdrop of the 9th with his brains blown out against the back wall: ...massimo delle mie possibilità e prometto che i miei sei guardiani mi seguiranno in questo... Con la vita e con la morte io difenderò questa famiglia. Yamamoto had knelt and kissed that blue stone then, like Gokudera and Xanxus and Basil. But the stupid baseball idiot might have been the only one that smiled when he did so.
"Gokudera," Tsuna's voice broke through his thoughts. Light brown eyes studied him, prompting him to speak as personal feelings were set aside for whatever the bomber had to say.
"Tenth," Gokudera returned, and touched his right hand to his forehead to make it a little more serious. "I have a request - or rather, a warning of sorts." When the don turned fully towards him, he continued, "I'm going after Yamamoto's body."
"This goes against family policy," the Tenth replied calmly, though the bomber could read the vengeful fire that roared to life at Gokudera's words in every cell in that suddenly interested posture.
"I am aware," he answered, throat dry. He was going to do this even if it cost him his position. The sick feeling he got when he told Mateo no the first time - disgust roiled in his stomach at the memory. For once he was going to do it the idiot lug-way: believing that there was always a way out, that there was always a solution that hadn't been attempted yet that would satisfy everyone. Of course, it always seemed to sound less cheesy coming from Yamamoto himself, but that (as he was fond of reminding himself every waking moment of the day) was impossible now, so he would just have to make do with himself. Now it was just a matter if Tsuna would be willing to bend the rules a little for the sake of an age-old friendship, or insist on following policy...
Tsuna gave a weak little smile and answered, "You have my blessing, Gokudera." Of course that would be the answer - the Tenth was ever-considerate and flexible despite the constraints of his role in the family. "But not my protection." Also predictable and avoidable; Gokudera had plenty clout himself.
"Thank you, Tenth." The words came out in a relieved rush, and for the first time in three days, Gokudera found he was able to smile, albeit exhaustedly. His boss did the same a heartbeat later, eyes weary where they traced his Guardian's features. Suddenly Gokudera wanted to reach out and...do something to alleviate that smile that looked so perilously close to crying. Take his hand or something, or clap him on the shoulder - and then he wondered what was stopping him, and did so.
His cold fingers traced down his boss' face, pressing at the corners of the other man's eyes. Tsuna's body visibly deflated where he stood, leaning a little into Gokudera's hand where it cupped his cheek. The old feeling of their teenage years, that inseparable sensation, hummed back to life. Things were again being said without actually saying them: It's not fair, I'm lost without him, It should have been me. Gokudera reached out blindly and caught the hot trickle of water tracing Tsuna's jaw. The Tenth boss of the Vongola Family, hunched in his big black coat and his faded yellow umbrella, stifled Gokudera's sob with his palm before it could be heard. Their heads leaned together where they stood huddled under their scant shelter from the storm; breath puffed warmly between them as their arms tightened around each other, wishing they didn't have to move past this, wishing time wouldn't slowly seal away their memories of Yamamoto.
In the pattering of the rain, they mourned.
-------------
D: Should I continue being mesmerized or should I actually feel jealous?
Click to view