D18 again
I know this may shock people, but D18 is actually my OTP. Because when I had first finished Reborn!, I really really loved both of their characters, so I went searching for fanfiction. And the first one I ever read was
cerepan's "The Tigers Come At Night" and that was pretty much it for me. Unfortunately, I don't write it very much; D18 and I have a very tragic relationship...
In the Burned House
The wind howled eerily in the shell of the burned house.
There is no house, thought Dino hazily, yet here I am. What am I doing here? He trailed his fingers along the edge of a charred table, in the remnants of what had once been a kitchen. Pipes burst from the walls like…he could only think of a skeleton, like the ones scattered in the hallways where men had fallen, shards of bone still clothed in the uniforms of the Millefiore.
And other bones, too, smaller and more delicate, in bright colors.
Briefly, his stomach churns, and he resists the desire to rush to the sink and vomit, until everything inside him is empty and he can view the situation calmly, without emotion. He had seen so many terrible things in his thirty-two years that this really shouldn’t surprise him. There had always been the possibility that it would come to this. But he can’t help but remember that once, there had been children. Once, there had been happiness.
He straightens, tugs his suit back into place, and signals to one of his men. He nods, and bends to examine the bodies, hollow shells without souls, while Dino continues his solitary search among the ruins of what was a base but more like a home. Despite the halls burnt beyond recognition, he knows instinctively where to go, even though Tsuna built this place like a labyrinth spreading for miles underneath Namimori (up and out, the only place for a bird to flee is the sky). The doors he passes are thrown open, the contents of the rooms torn and broken. Briefly, he wonders what the Millefiore were looking for-the Vongola rings of the past? Squalo had said the others had come from ten-years-before; that’s how he knew who the little bones belonged to. Would he have come back, if he knew Tsuna was here once more? Dino hopes so; otherwise, the trip has been for nothing but funerals, and he’s seen too many of those lately. Longchamp, and Xanxus; the Tomaso family in ruins and Bel and Squalo the only ones left standing, fighting the void war in the streets of Italy and inevitably chasing their own deaths. And Mukuro, laughing from the edges of the game, dead or the plaything of the mad Millefiore boss, having stepped across the boundaries of life and death too many times. Dead, everyone was dead and there is no house yet here he is.
And no one knew where Tsuna was. Or Reborn, here again too, Gokudera, Yamamoto, Ryohei. And Kyouya.
Especially Kyouya.
He passes a room and almost jumps out of his skin at the sight of another person-his own reflection in a rippled mirror, ruined by the fire. Hesitantly, he pushes the door open a little wider and steps across the books with covers torn off sheets on the floor clothes thrown out of drawers computer smashed on the floor to stand in front of it, reaching out to touch his image with trembling fingers. Heavy dark shadows marred his face from lack of sleep, lines around his mouth from too much frowning, streaks of purest white in his sunflower hair. And his eyes, oh God, his eyes tragic and dead in his face. He could barely recognize himself.
Old, he thought desperately. When did I get so old?
He backs from the room and hurries away; he can’t face this, not right now. He just wants to find Kyouya and get him the hell out of here and he’s running now, something like panic eating at his heart.
Oh Kyouya, he thinks as the air burns his lungs like fire, Kyouya, where are you? And the never-ending mantra escapes his lips, the constant cries of “Kyouya! Kyouya!” and he trips and falls into fine grey powder (What happens when something burns? Well, it turns to ashes…What happens when someone dies? Well, they turn to dust...) face first and he’s choking on the ashes, they’re all over his brand new suit, ashes and dust and tears on his face as he gets to his feet once more and goes on and on, because what else can he do? He stumbles over corpses lying in the halls and has a sudden hysterical thought of being locked in a tomb, and that any second one of them will come alive and they will find him, they will drag him down with him. Childhood fears from old horror movies, but this place is much too real to be a movie set, though it’s easier to think of it that way and easier to keep moving if he doesn’t think of them as people.
He’s on the verge of breaking down when a breath of fresh air laden with the smell of summer nights touches his face, gently. Smiling, even through his tears, he follows it, because birds always take to the sky when there’s nowhere else to go-
-but Kyouya is not a bird but a man and men don’t run away and Kyouya will never run away and Kyouya, please be here, Kyouya where are you don’t leave me here without you-
He steps in something wet. Something red, something sticky. And beside it, pale and fragile in the darkness, a small bundle still twitching feebly. He bends, and scoops it up: Hibird. Its wings are broken, but it still chirps faintly as he strokes its head with trembling fingers and cradles it to his chest. Even broken, it still tries to sing that stupid song that Kyouya taught it, the one praising Namimori.
“Hey, hey, little guy,” Dino whispers, “Shhh, now. It’s going to be okay. Dino’s here.”
The little bird blinks up at him with cloudy eyes.
“Di~no,” it chirps softly, “Di~no, Di~no…” in the same tone, the same goddamn inflection as its master, as rain falls from Dino’s face and washes the blood from its soft yellow feathers, a few shades paler than his hair had been once.
“Oh, Kyouya, Kyouya, Kyouya…” He clutches Hibird as though it were the last thing left to him in the world, because here, here is Kyouya, or what was once Kyouya, a broken tonfa, its silver marred with harsh black burns and a fine grey dust and scraps of a black suit-ashes to ashes, dust to dust and this is what becomes of us-and it feels like the world is coming apart at last and he cries because he can’t believe that it would come to this, that this is true.
“Kyouya, Kyouya,” he cries softly, though there is no one left to answer him, “Oh, Kyouya-where are you?”
There is no house.
There is no one here.
Notes: I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I keep doing this with this pairing...I just can't see anything Hibari-related ending happily, much as I love him.
cerepan's "The Tigers Come At Night" and that was pretty much it for me. Unfortunately, I don't write it very much; D18 and I have a very tragic relationship...
In the Burned House
The wind howled eerily in the shell of the burned house.
There is no house, thought Dino hazily, yet here I am. What am I doing here? He trailed his fingers along the edge of a charred table, in the remnants of what had once been a kitchen. Pipes burst from the walls like…he could only think of a skeleton, like the ones scattered in the hallways where men had fallen, shards of bone still clothed in the uniforms of the Millefiore.
And other bones, too, smaller and more delicate, in bright colors.
Briefly, his stomach churns, and he resists the desire to rush to the sink and vomit, until everything inside him is empty and he can view the situation calmly, without emotion. He had seen so many terrible things in his thirty-two years that this really shouldn’t surprise him. There had always been the possibility that it would come to this. But he can’t help but remember that once, there had been children. Once, there had been happiness.
He straightens, tugs his suit back into place, and signals to one of his men. He nods, and bends to examine the bodies, hollow shells without souls, while Dino continues his solitary search among the ruins of what was a base but more like a home. Despite the halls burnt beyond recognition, he knows instinctively where to go, even though Tsuna built this place like a labyrinth spreading for miles underneath Namimori (up and out, the only place for a bird to flee is the sky). The doors he passes are thrown open, the contents of the rooms torn and broken. Briefly, he wonders what the Millefiore were looking for-the Vongola rings of the past? Squalo had said the others had come from ten-years-before; that’s how he knew who the little bones belonged to. Would he have come back, if he knew Tsuna was here once more? Dino hopes so; otherwise, the trip has been for nothing but funerals, and he’s seen too many of those lately. Longchamp, and Xanxus; the Tomaso family in ruins and Bel and Squalo the only ones left standing, fighting the void war in the streets of Italy and inevitably chasing their own deaths. And Mukuro, laughing from the edges of the game, dead or the plaything of the mad Millefiore boss, having stepped across the boundaries of life and death too many times. Dead, everyone was dead and there is no house yet here he is.
And no one knew where Tsuna was. Or Reborn, here again too, Gokudera, Yamamoto, Ryohei. And Kyouya.
Especially Kyouya.
He passes a room and almost jumps out of his skin at the sight of another person-his own reflection in a rippled mirror, ruined by the fire. Hesitantly, he pushes the door open a little wider and steps across the books with covers torn off sheets on the floor clothes thrown out of drawers computer smashed on the floor to stand in front of it, reaching out to touch his image with trembling fingers. Heavy dark shadows marred his face from lack of sleep, lines around his mouth from too much frowning, streaks of purest white in his sunflower hair. And his eyes, oh God, his eyes tragic and dead in his face. He could barely recognize himself.
Old, he thought desperately. When did I get so old?
He backs from the room and hurries away; he can’t face this, not right now. He just wants to find Kyouya and get him the hell out of here and he’s running now, something like panic eating at his heart.
Oh Kyouya, he thinks as the air burns his lungs like fire, Kyouya, where are you? And the never-ending mantra escapes his lips, the constant cries of “Kyouya! Kyouya!” and he trips and falls into fine grey powder (What happens when something burns? Well, it turns to ashes…What happens when someone dies? Well, they turn to dust...) face first and he’s choking on the ashes, they’re all over his brand new suit, ashes and dust and tears on his face as he gets to his feet once more and goes on and on, because what else can he do? He stumbles over corpses lying in the halls and has a sudden hysterical thought of being locked in a tomb, and that any second one of them will come alive and they will find him, they will drag him down with him. Childhood fears from old horror movies, but this place is much too real to be a movie set, though it’s easier to think of it that way and easier to keep moving if he doesn’t think of them as people.
He’s on the verge of breaking down when a breath of fresh air laden with the smell of summer nights touches his face, gently. Smiling, even through his tears, he follows it, because birds always take to the sky when there’s nowhere else to go-
-but Kyouya is not a bird but a man and men don’t run away and Kyouya will never run away and Kyouya, please be here, Kyouya where are you don’t leave me here without you-
He steps in something wet. Something red, something sticky. And beside it, pale and fragile in the darkness, a small bundle still twitching feebly. He bends, and scoops it up: Hibird. Its wings are broken, but it still chirps faintly as he strokes its head with trembling fingers and cradles it to his chest. Even broken, it still tries to sing that stupid song that Kyouya taught it, the one praising Namimori.
“Hey, hey, little guy,” Dino whispers, “Shhh, now. It’s going to be okay. Dino’s here.”
The little bird blinks up at him with cloudy eyes.
“Di~no,” it chirps softly, “Di~no, Di~no…” in the same tone, the same goddamn inflection as its master, as rain falls from Dino’s face and washes the blood from its soft yellow feathers, a few shades paler than his hair had been once.
“Oh, Kyouya, Kyouya, Kyouya…” He clutches Hibird as though it were the last thing left to him in the world, because here, here is Kyouya, or what was once Kyouya, a broken tonfa, its silver marred with harsh black burns and a fine grey dust and scraps of a black suit-ashes to ashes, dust to dust and this is what becomes of us-and it feels like the world is coming apart at last and he cries because he can’t believe that it would come to this, that this is true.
“Kyouya, Kyouya,” he cries softly, though there is no one left to answer him, “Oh, Kyouya-where are you?”
There is no house.
There is no one here.
Notes: I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I keep doing this with this pairing...I just can't see anything Hibari-related ending happily, much as I love him.