we'll make no tracks in the snow | khr: 8018
I think a number of things can be established here. First of all, I am a terribly slow writer. Inspiration gets harder and harder to find and I've realised that few things in my immediate environment inspire me nowadays. It's quite sad really. Secondly, I can be quite OCD about my work (not all the time, definitely not, just some time and for a number of trivial and small things) but also an awfully good procrastinator and those two things just don't mix well at all.
So PLEASE ACCEPT MY MOST HUMBLE APOLOGY FOR THIS LATE LATE LATE SUBMISSION. It was really difficult to write but I hope you'll like it just a little bit nonetheless.
we'll make no tracks in the snow | yamamoto/hibari
khr | worksafe
8018 through the ages, essentially. For
boxxme @
help_japan
Hibari Kyouya is eight when a six year-old Yamamoto Takeshi barges into him on a crowded main street.
It takes him a second to recover, the wind knocked from him, because he is Hibari Kyouya, eight years old in his second year of elementary school, and no one ever touches him without his approval first. Hibari whips this way and that, looking around for the perpetrator. His hands move instinctively to the two wooden sticks he picked from his school yard.
"Sorry about that, nii-san," a boy smaller than him dressed in baseball gear laughs from the front, "I'm late for baseball practice!"
Hibari seethes and brandishes his wooden sticks. He will have to make some time to find a more suitable weapon later.
But the smaller, base-ball playing laughing boy runs off into the crowd, and a minute later Hibari is unable to find him.
Hibari Kyouya is eight when they meet for the first time. He vows to finish their battle.
♠
A fourteen year-old Hibari Kyouya recognises a twelve year-old Yamamoto Takeshi, the brat that dared attack him and then had the nerve to escape, at Namimori Middle School's opening ceremony from his private position above the stage.
He is a little taller now, hair longer and his face bigger to accommodate his large eyes, but there is no mistaking that it is him. Fourth block, second column near the back. Hibari takes note of his class.
It is 8.30 in the morning, and Hibari decides to hunt him down later after his morning, mid-morning tea and afternoon rounds. There are things to do and people to bite to death, and Yamamoto is in his territory now, right under his nose. There will be no miraculous second escape.
He smiles to himself at the thought of pay back, six years overdue. The school bell chimes the start of classes and Hibari walks away, his steps significantly lighter.
.
At exactly 16:30, Hibari looks for Yamamoto.
He doesn't know the boy's name (he rarely remembers the names of people he dismantles and flings away) but Hibari figures the knowledge of his appearance and class are more than enough.
The funny thing is, he doesn't need this knowledge at all. Five minutes after leaving his office, he looks out the window onto the grounds and spots him immediately, the tall head of messy hair swinging a baseball bat.
He isn't half bad at the sport.
Later, a cowering first year stammers out "Ya-yamamoto Takeshi".
Yamamoto Takeshi, Hibari Kyouya decides, is a name worth remembering.
.
Later, he vows never to show such herbivore-esque behaviour ever again.
♠
The problem with Yamamoto Takeshi, at the end of the day, is that he's stupid.
A battle rages among them, streaks of blood and the betrayal of a once allied family, and Yamamoto just lies on the ground. There's blood in his mouth and an acute pain in his side, and amidst the screams, the shouts and the painpainpain, he looks up at the bloodied heavens and wonders if this is what it feels like to drown, when all of a sudden Hibari is standing over him, his eyes darker than Yamamoto has ever seen them before, pulling him up onto his feet except he's taller than Hibari by a head or so and he can't stand and -
- you idiot.
He feels himself falling, falling and maybethisiswhatit'sliketodrown. There is the pain again, then get up get up get up getupgetupgetupyouidiotdon't give up and he can't see anything at all but he feels Hibari next to him, one hand on his chest and the other clutching his side in an excruiciatingly tight grip, and for the first time in his life Yamamoto feels scared.
"Hib-" he tries, and is rewarded with pain and blood and more pain. He isn't sure where the blood is coming from anymore.
There is a thick taste of iron in his mouth; blood. It's too strong, too overwhelming and the lights just about go out when he tastes something else.
Japan's finest green tea.
His eyes open for a few seconds more before he finally falls unconscious.
Hibari wipes his blood stained lips and looks at him, his eyes shining.
Don't ever make me do that again.
♠
An important fact about Hibari Kyouya: He is not one to forget an unfinished battle.
♠
There is a reason he decides to leave his battle with Yamamoto Takeshi for a later date.
As they watch Choice, locked away in a room with massive screens, Hibari struggles not to scowl at the oohs and ahs and amazement at Yamamoto's improvement.
"That's Yamamoto Takeshi." he merely states as they watch him cut down Genkishi.
♠
It is the little things that define them.
♠
Later, in a time of temporary peace and fragile happiness, Hibari initiates the fight.
It goes by in a blur, in his tonfas whipping through the air, in Yamamoto's blade slicing through silence punctuated only by their breaths and their steps.
Hibari will never admit it, will never acknowledge it, will never understand it, but to the rest of the Famiglia they are partners. He wonders if this is his fault, if the lack of smiles and laughs and genuine innocence has something to do with the blood they can never wash off their suits and hands. Hibari wonders, as Yamamoto narrowly misses his left arm, if maybe, this is all his doing.
They end, both short of breath, without a victor and Hibari's face so close to Yamamoto's.
"Business trip tomorrow," Yamamoto breathes, "what do you want?"
Don't ever make me do that again, Hibari recalls.
He leaves before answering.
.
At least, at the very least, he's taught Yamamoto how to keep himself alive.
♠
Yamamoto returns to him with a tailored suit from Italy's finest, a box of green tea and a smile.
FIN.
So PLEASE ACCEPT MY MOST HUMBLE APOLOGY FOR THIS LATE LATE LATE SUBMISSION. It was really difficult to write but I hope you'll like it just a little bit nonetheless.
we'll make no tracks in the snow | yamamoto/hibari
khr | worksafe
8018 through the ages, essentially. For
boxxme @
help_japan
Hibari Kyouya is eight when a six year-old Yamamoto Takeshi barges into him on a crowded main street.
It takes him a second to recover, the wind knocked from him, because he is Hibari Kyouya, eight years old in his second year of elementary school, and no one ever touches him without his approval first. Hibari whips this way and that, looking around for the perpetrator. His hands move instinctively to the two wooden sticks he picked from his school yard.
"Sorry about that, nii-san," a boy smaller than him dressed in baseball gear laughs from the front, "I'm late for baseball practice!"
Hibari seethes and brandishes his wooden sticks. He will have to make some time to find a more suitable weapon later.
But the smaller, base-ball playing laughing boy runs off into the crowd, and a minute later Hibari is unable to find him.
Hibari Kyouya is eight when they meet for the first time. He vows to finish their battle.
♠
A fourteen year-old Hibari Kyouya recognises a twelve year-old Yamamoto Takeshi, the brat that dared attack him and then had the nerve to escape, at Namimori Middle School's opening ceremony from his private position above the stage.
He is a little taller now, hair longer and his face bigger to accommodate his large eyes, but there is no mistaking that it is him. Fourth block, second column near the back. Hibari takes note of his class.
It is 8.30 in the morning, and Hibari decides to hunt him down later after his morning, mid-morning tea and afternoon rounds. There are things to do and people to bite to death, and Yamamoto is in his territory now, right under his nose. There will be no miraculous second escape.
He smiles to himself at the thought of pay back, six years overdue. The school bell chimes the start of classes and Hibari walks away, his steps significantly lighter.
.
At exactly 16:30, Hibari looks for Yamamoto.
He doesn't know the boy's name (he rarely remembers the names of people he dismantles and flings away) but Hibari figures the knowledge of his appearance and class are more than enough.
The funny thing is, he doesn't need this knowledge at all. Five minutes after leaving his office, he looks out the window onto the grounds and spots him immediately, the tall head of messy hair swinging a baseball bat.
He isn't half bad at the sport.
Later, a cowering first year stammers out "Ya-yamamoto Takeshi".
Yamamoto Takeshi, Hibari Kyouya decides, is a name worth remembering.
.
Later, he vows never to show such herbivore-esque behaviour ever again.
♠
The problem with Yamamoto Takeshi, at the end of the day, is that he's stupid.
A battle rages among them, streaks of blood and the betrayal of a once allied family, and Yamamoto just lies on the ground. There's blood in his mouth and an acute pain in his side, and amidst the screams, the shouts and the painpainpain, he looks up at the bloodied heavens and wonders if this is what it feels like to drown, when all of a sudden Hibari is standing over him, his eyes darker than Yamamoto has ever seen them before, pulling him up onto his feet except he's taller than Hibari by a head or so and he can't stand and -
- you idiot.
He feels himself falling, falling and maybethisiswhatit'sliketodrown. There is the pain again, then get up get up get up getupgetupgetupyouidiotdon't give up and he can't see anything at all but he feels Hibari next to him, one hand on his chest and the other clutching his side in an excruiciatingly tight grip, and for the first time in his life Yamamoto feels scared.
"Hib-" he tries, and is rewarded with pain and blood and more pain. He isn't sure where the blood is coming from anymore.
There is a thick taste of iron in his mouth; blood. It's too strong, too overwhelming and the lights just about go out when he tastes something else.
Japan's finest green tea.
His eyes open for a few seconds more before he finally falls unconscious.
Hibari wipes his blood stained lips and looks at him, his eyes shining.
Don't ever make me do that again.
♠
An important fact about Hibari Kyouya: He is not one to forget an unfinished battle.
♠
There is a reason he decides to leave his battle with Yamamoto Takeshi for a later date.
As they watch Choice, locked away in a room with massive screens, Hibari struggles not to scowl at the oohs and ahs and amazement at Yamamoto's improvement.
"That's Yamamoto Takeshi." he merely states as they watch him cut down Genkishi.
♠
It is the little things that define them.
♠
Later, in a time of temporary peace and fragile happiness, Hibari initiates the fight.
It goes by in a blur, in his tonfas whipping through the air, in Yamamoto's blade slicing through silence punctuated only by their breaths and their steps.
Hibari will never admit it, will never acknowledge it, will never understand it, but to the rest of the Famiglia they are partners. He wonders if this is his fault, if the lack of smiles and laughs and genuine innocence has something to do with the blood they can never wash off their suits and hands. Hibari wonders, as Yamamoto narrowly misses his left arm, if maybe, this is all his doing.
They end, both short of breath, without a victor and Hibari's face so close to Yamamoto's.
"Business trip tomorrow," Yamamoto breathes, "what do you want?"
Don't ever make me do that again, Hibari recalls.
He leaves before answering.
.
At least, at the very least, he's taught Yamamoto how to keep himself alive.
♠
Yamamoto returns to him with a tailored suit from Italy's finest, a box of green tea and a smile.
FIN.