[Fic] Windshear [Part 15/?]
Heya~ Merry Christmas! Hope everyone who can is chillin' out this holiday season - whatever you are actually celebrating. I know I am, since I'm not going back to work until after New Year's! This part here? Has nothing to do with the winter solstice or anything though. Nonetheless, I hope you can feel what the characters are going through - to the limit(?) and enjoy! XD
Oh! Of note! Song suggestions are totally welcome! For this part, previous parts or just for Windshear in general ♥ Thanks!
Windshear Part [15/?]
Authors: kagayachou and the-dw
Characters/Pairings: Tsuna, Reborn, Gokudera, Ryohei. Byakuran/Mukuro, eventual Yamamoto/Hibari.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 6237
Summary: In the aftermath of the fight, everyone waits for the survivors to wake up, but the world keeps turning. Tsuna has a talk with Gokudera. Reborn has a talk with Yamamaoto. But what about Hibari?
Fingers linked on his lap and leaning back against the wall, Mukuro gazed through half-lidded eyes at the immobile, entirely white figure on the bed. Byakuran looked washed out like this, nearly blending in with the sheets that surrounded him. Mukuro pressed his lips together, and then gave a small, theatrical sigh.
Truth be told, he was getting a little worried about his 'playmate'. Byakuran had been asleep for nearing three weeks now, and he still showed no signs of waking up. His famiglia didn't seem to be too concerned about him as well - they had never been there the admittedly few times Mukuro visited.
His lips split open into a huge yawn as he sank down even further in his chair, waiting for the end of his shift to come.
And he probably would have fallen asleep himself if the electrocardiograph by the bed hadn't suddenly beeped faster and louder.
Mukuro blinked and straightened slightly, glancing briefly towards the heart monitor screen before his eyes went right back to the white-haired man. After a moment of listening to those beeps climb and fall into a steady pattern once more, he smiled to himself and padded over to the side of the bed.
Byakuran's ring finger twitched.
"Kufufufu..." Would Byakuran notice, he wondered, that the Mare Sky ring was missing?
Mukuro yawned again, plopping down to sit on the metal chair beside the bed, keeping a closer eye on Byakuran. The machines were starting to beep sharper, more frequently, and Mukuro turned his head to look at them, seemingly bored.
He rubbed the tip of his trident against his fingers, and then collapsed it to keep it out of the way. It would be fun, he thought, when Byakuran woke up and discovered his new little wound. Quite unfortunate, really, that the man had left himself so open and vulnerable to Mukuro, lying on the hospital bed like that. Their little games wouldn't be on such equal grounds then before.
A sudden shift in breathing made his head jerk back to the bed. He narrowed his eyes.
"...Ah," Byakuran's voice was raspy and low from disuse. "That's horrible, Mukuro-kun, to take my ring like that." A short cough; perhaps it was meant to be a laugh. "You need to wait until I propose."
Mukuro shook his head, smiling back. "If it was up to you, Byakuran-san, it'd take forever. You wouldn't think of making it official, not until you've reached all your career aspirations."
And until then, Mukuro more or less knew that he himself was probably expendable in the other man's eyes.
Byakuran's lips drew into a pout immediately. "...Doesn't mean that you have to take my ring, Mukuro-kun," he complained hoarsely. Pressing an elbow into the mattress, he tried to sit up.
"Careful, Byakuran-san," Mukuro raised a hand initially, as if to help. Then, he touched two fingers to his lips instead, "You may not feel anything at the moment, but that's because the Vongola's doctors have you on anaesthetics... You've been badly burnt."
For the briefest of moments, Byakuran's eyes widened in shock at Mukuro's movement. Then, he seemed to recover himself and was smiling again, sliding gently back down to lie on his back. He laughed a little.
"Now that's rare, Mukuro-kun showing such concern..." and his smile widened a little more.
"You are the one who will propose to me," Mukuro impishly replied, then quietly added, "and the one who will destroy the mafia world as we all know it?"
Internally, he alerted Chrome, knowing that she would inform the doctors.
Byakuran's eyes snapped open at the latter part of the statement, but then he relaxed back into his bed again, seemingly casual. "Does Mukuro-kun not like the idea of that?" He cocked his head to the side, like an inquisitive bird.
"You hate the mafia, don't you?"
"Hm?" Mukuro mirrored his movement with a slight tilt of his head. "Hate... is such a weak word to describe how much I despise it." His smile grew then, but did not reach his eyes. Rather, his expression was mockingly serene as he continued, "I loathe the mafia."
At the most honest words he’d ever heard from Mukuro, Byakuran simply threw his head back and laughed, truly joyous at the sheer anger and hatred he could see in Mukuro's eyes. Ah, Mukuro-kun, you would never change, would you?
He coughed harshly, turning to his side and wincing as the movement nearly tugged the IV tubes out of his arm. Dropping back to his back, he gasped for breath as his throat burned, far too dry for him to continue speaking.
Mukuro just watched him for a brief moment, almost apathetic to his laughter and his suffering. He tilted his head towards the door as hurried footstep grew louder and halted outside the door. In a couple of quick, light strides, he stopped in front of the room entrance as well, just in time to give the doctors and nurses an eerie little smile.
"I'll be back in a little while, Byakuran-san," he said as he slipped past the newcomers and into the corridor.
There were only so many lab coats Mukuro could stand in one room.
***
Gokudera's eyes followed the misty wisps of cigarette smoke as it rose towards the warm, orange sky. Tsuna slid the door of the roof open gently, stepping through it with silent steps. He stood beside the door for a moment, watching.
Then, he smiled slightly and started towards his Storm Guardian, "Good afternoon, Gokudera-kun."
Automatically, "Tenth-!" Gokudera blinked and snuffed out the cancer stick against the cement balustrade as turned towards him. He walked a couple of steps closer, then stopped in front of him at a respectful distance away.
Tsuna's smile widened as he nodded to Gokudera, a subtle acknowledgment, before heading back towards the railings. He leaned his back against it, turning to face Gokudera. For a moment, his eyes flickered towards the cigarette lying on the floor.
"What happened, Gokudera-kun? Didn't you quit?"
Gokudera grimaced, and responded with a quiet exhale - a soft laugh. "I'm still trying. I'd been going cold turkey for the last few days," he explained. "Now I'm trying to wean myself off from the nicotine in increments, so the withdrawal symptoms won't affect my performance as much..."
"Gokudera-kun," Tsuna interrupted him firmly yet kindly. He reached forward and placed an arm on his Right Hand Man's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I don't care whether or not it affects your performance - I know you always try your best, and that's all I ask for."
He stepped forward, eyes concerned and serious, "But are you really all right?"
The silver-haired guardian nodded initially, and then seemed to catch himself. Quickly, he looked away, eyes downcast. "I'm all right, Tenth. I'm just... concerned for the baseball idiot, and..." he sighed deeply. "Byakuran is awake now," he nearly spat out.
He leaned his elbows against the balustrade once more and rested his chin over the back of his hands."It's just... It's not fair."
Tsuna sobered in an instant, turning to look at the fading sun and his lips were pressed into a line, turned downwards. Slowly, his fingers folded into a fist, and he sighed, a harsh, displeased gust.
"It isn't," a pause, and he brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Is... Is Yamamoto all right?"
Gokudera frowned at the question, and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. He's... been keeping himself busy with Dino-san lately, and... Kusakabe-san says he's been a great help at the Foundation for some reason or other...
"Do you think that’s all right, Tenth?"
Tsuna sighed again, worrying at his lip as he turned to look at Gokudera. He gave the other man a small, reassuring nod and smile, "I'm sure he will be. Yamamoto isn't the sort to let things like this get him down, right?"
"... Right!" Gokudera smiled back, nodding almost brightly. Almost.
"That baseball idiot... Don't worry, Tenth. Hibird will take care of him," he added with a wry grin. After a few seconds, however, he looked back at Tsuna calmly. "Is there anything you want me to do? About him, or... "
Tsuna had to blink at that. "Hibird? What do you mean, Gokudera-kun?"
The mental image of Hibird flapping around Yamamoto, fussing like a mother hen did with her chicks made him chuckle under his breath, tension flowing from his shoulders like the tide going out.
Gokudera smiled easier at that. "I mean that it's almost... like they're birds of a feather - like they naturally understand each other," he shrugged, "even more than Hibari..." He trailed off. Bird brained, the lot of them.
Tsuna's eyes turned serious immediately, but he still tried to keep the mood light. "That's a horrid pun, Gokudera-kun. As clever as I'm sure Hibird is, Yamamoto isn't that bad." Especially since Yamamoto had long given up on keeping the facade of the 'mafia game'.
With a shake of his head, Tsuna continued, "There's something I would like you to do for me."
Gokudera just grinned sheepishly and pushed away his own doubts, turning back towards him, back straight. If the man was going to get down to business, Gokudera was prepared to do whatever was required for him - for the Vongola in its entirety.
Tsuna merely smiled at that, truly happy and relieved at Gokudera's dedication. But that was the problem right now, wasn't it? He took a step forward and reached out a hand to squeeze Gokudera's shoulder.
"Take care of yourself. You always have a bad habit of not doing that, Gokudera-kun. So that's all I want you to do right now." His eyes softened even further, brimming with concern. "Is that all right with you?"
Tense. Gokudera's shoulders felt so very tense. It was an effort to relax his stiff muscles, especially since Tsuna's hand was right there, and it would have been easier to feign being bright and easy-going even though they both knew that he was never truly good at that.
"Of course, Tenth," he nodded with a small, uncertain smile. He'd take care of himself like it was his dying will if that's what made Tsuna happy.
But that wasn't what Tsuna wanted. His smile faded slightly, a crease forming between his brow before he placed his other hand on Gokudera's shoulder, drawing his Storm Guardian closer. His amber eyes bore into green, and when he spoke he sounded concerned, yet firm.
"I'm serious about it." He shook his head, a little sad, a little angry at himself. "You still have your bad habit of not looking out for yourself. I don't want you to take care of yourself for my sake, Gokudera-kun."
He gave Gokudera's shoulders a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I want you to do it for your own sake."
Gokudera's hands twitched. He wanted to do something that would relieve Tsuna's concerns - kneel, kiss the back of his hand, offer him his pinky finger with a solemn promise. Yes, believe me, I'll look out for myself. For you. For the famiglia - which is, of course, ultimately for myself as well. But none of that would really make Tsuna feel any better, he knew.
"I... I will-," There was only so long that he could deal with Tsuna's eyes and intution turned upon him; he looked away, down to the cigarette butt on the floor. "I am... In the process."
Tsuna knew that Gokudera was trying his very best, that he was doing all that he could. Gokudera had never been one for halves, after all, and he always, always threw himself so entirely into whatever he was doing, disregarding his own body's needs and concerns. His dedication was what made him such a capable right hand, Tsuna knew this, yet...
They might be adults now, but sometimes Tsuna still wanted to just watch the fireworks with his friends. He wanted to forget about the mafia - for a few days, one day, or even just a couple of hours - and just be with his friends, knowing that he wasn't putting them in danger and that every time he sent that out, he wasn't sending them to their deaths.
That every time he gave Gokudera something to do, his first friend wouldn't push himself so far and hard that he’d collapse.
Tsuna sighed softly, and let his hands fall back to the side. "I'm glad you are, Gokudera-kun. It's a relief."
Gokudera relaxed at those words. "Don't worry, Tenth. It's my job to stick around, and stay fit and reliable as your right hand man.
"You don't want me to do it for your sake alone," he acknowledged with a nod. "But I'm not. Not anymore..."
He might have added more, except the door to the roof was slammed open at that moment.
"Sawada! There you are!" Sasagawa Ryohei's smile seemed to light up the sky in the absence of the sun. "Come on, sis! I found him!" He yelled downstairs.
Tsuna's head jerked immediately towards Ryohei's voice, and his smile as Kyoko's head popped out from the door was brighter than even the sun itself. But he hadn't forgotten about Gokudera - far from it - turning to look at him even as Ryohei jogged over, swinging an arm over Gokudera's shoulder and grinning, but his mouth clicked back shut when he realized that Tsuna was about to speak.
But I'm not. Not anymore... Tsuna's smile softened at the edge, and he laughed a little. That certainly did take a little weight off his shoulders. He nodded at Ryohei, thanking him for his temporary silence before capturing Gokudera's eyes with his again.
"That's good then." He reached out and placed a hand on Gokudera's arm, squeezing for a brief moment, "Though, I still would like you to take care of yourself for your own sake, but one step at a time, right?"
And his ensuing chuckle was teasing.
Gokudera sputtered, initially confused. "R-right, but I..." He had been about to say that he'd take care of himself for his own sake - what did Tsuna mean by- oh fu-! He stiffened. There was a flush of warmth that spread over his cheeks as he realized that Tsuna's hyper intuition had picked up something that was wrong - so wrong.
But it was the Tenth - he was never entirely off when he noticed anything, which meant - Gokudera's brows creased as he shied a glance at Ryohei, only half-speculative.
...No way. Came a feeble mental protest.
"So, Octopussy," Ryohei grinned, happily oblivious to Gokudera's internal turmoil, "How's about we give these lovebirds some alone time, and go do some of that close combat training we’ve been talking about?"
Tsuna blinked, looking from Gokudera's red face to Ryohei's grin, then back again. Oh wait- they hadn't realized it yet. Or perhaps there was only the barest seed of it, and his hyper intuition had picked up on it and exaggerated it like it was prone to do. But then...
He grinned slightly to Ryohei, turning away from them as Kyoko came up to him. Wrapping an arm around his fiancée's waist, he kissed her cheek lightly. Kyoko giggled, but she knew him for long enough to simply hold him close while he finished with Gokudera and Ryohei.
"Close combat training?" he raised an eyebrow, then his smile widened. "You're working hard, Gokudera-kun." Well, he grimaced mentally, someone had to pick up the slack that Hibari's absence had created, and it was just like Gokudera to trust no one but himself to do it. Tsuna nodded.
"I'll see you later, then?"
Gokudera looked at Tsuna, then at Kyoko and back again. He didn't have the heart to take up more of their time together, so he just nodded. "O-of course, Tenth!" Ryohei was seriously going to get it for calling him a Bond Girl!
"Great!" Ryohei pumped a fist into the air, nearly cackling as he proceeded to drag Gokudera off. His sister missed her fiancé, and he knew that in the aftermath of that incident with Gesso, Tsuna would want her company more than ever. "Take care of of each other!" He gave a short little wave to the couple before turning back to Gokudera.
"Now, Octopussy, let's spar to the extreme!"
“If you keep calling me that,” Gokudera growled as he stalked off, “I'll shave the grass off the top of your head like an lawnmower set on extreme."
***
To some degree, Gokudera was right. Yamamoto had been hanging out around Dino and Kusakabe, and Hibird was often seen flying around him or on his shoulder... but at the moment, he wasn't with any of them. Dino had gone back to his wife and children, Kusakabe was busy making sure the Foundation was still running smoothly, Hibird was... somewhere. Not here, in Yamamoto's office - not when Reborn's there for a private little chat.
Reborn seated himself down on the leather chair opposite Yamamoto, linking his fingers together and dropping his head on them. His dark eyes remained fixed on the other man, only half-covered by his hat's shadow.
"So, what are you going to do now? Stay here?"
"Ah," Yamamoto scratched his head and gave a wry laugh as he leaned back onto the couch. "My old man wants me to go back to Japan first - he's worried - but you know I can't up and leave just yet..."
Reborn shook his head immediately, "I didn't ask you what your father wants you to do, Yamamoto." His voice was calm and almost dry. "I asked what are you going to do."
"After all, Hibari is..."
Yamamoto shook his head. A dry laugh escaped his throat. "I'm not going to run away, kiddo. I haven't seen much of Gokudera lately but I know he and Ryohei, and even Lambo have been working hard running around with more missions than they should be handling...
"I'm not going to take a break when there's people running around thinking the Vongola's going to be easy pickings without their strongest guardian."
"Good," Reborn said, professional as always. He ignored the darkness in Yamamoto's eyes, ignored the downward turn of his mouth and simply stood up, looking at Yamamoto through the brim of his hat.
"The Family is more important than the individual, Yamamoto," he said quietly. "But I'm sure you know that."
"Is it, really?" Yamamoto quietly asked. "I couldn't help but notice that... the Gesso family's been falling apart without Byakuran, fighting amongst themselves like he was the only thing holding them together..."
"You misunderstand me," Reborn said immediately. But his lips were curved into a small, nearly imperceptible smile. "The Family is the leader. Why do you think we take such measures to protect that silly student of mine?"
"But you're all family to me," he looked up at the older man.
Reborn gave him a look, as if telling him not to be stupid, not to be purposefully obtuse. But those were honest eyes, and Yamamoto actually meant what he said.
Sighing, the older hitman dropped down to sit on the couch beside the younger one. "Family - kazoku - and the famiglia are different things, Yamamoto. I thought you've already learnt that."
Yamamoto blinked at him, a slight crease in his brows. "The words... They mean different people to me," not things, he didn't say - he didn't need to. "But there's no difference in my will to help them, should they need me around.
"Right now, I can't help Hibari anymore... But if I can help you and Tsuna and the rest, then that's what I'll do." He grinned then, "This Ring will reject me if I'm not the Vongola Rain guardian, right?"
Yamamoto had misunderstood him, Reborn thought silently, watching the other man. He wasn't talking about the difference between 'family' or 'Family' in the beginning at all - only that Hibari, as an 'individual' wasn't as important to the Family for it to fall apart. Yet Reborn supposed that if he said so, the gun that was hidden in Yamamoto's coat would be aimed at his throat in a moment.
He wasn't afraid of that - of course not - but it was a simple matter of indulgence. If Yamamoto wanted to carry the conversation in this direction to distract him from the true situation, then Reborn supposed he could suffer it.
"Correct. The Ring would reject you if that was the case." He leaned backwards towards the couch, "But it hasn't, because you are the true Rain Guardian of the Vongola Tenth." He stood up slowly, all lean grace and masked intent, and headed for the door.
Then, he turned back, "Tsuna still needs you. Don't fall apart now, just because of what happened to Hibari."
"I won't." Yamamoto actually chuckled as he stood as well. He shook his head as he made to open the door for his mentor. "Hibari wouldn't want that."
And Reborn had to laugh as well, taking half a step out of the door. He tipped his head back and smirked at Yamamoto.
"Well, you can ask him what he will want when he wakes up, can't you?"
Yamamoto's eyes shone as he nodded back.
***
The room was entirely silent except for the soft, consistent beeping of the machines. It was white, so white that Hibari's black hair contrasted so starkly against the bed and the pillows that it seemed to drain what little color he had away.
Yamamoto closed the door behind him as silently as he entered, a soundless sigh escaping his lips. It'd been... almost three months. Hibari was healthy, Nakamura had informed him in a clipped tone, but his body had to heal from all the strain that it had gone through. Not to mention the second bullet they had to take out from the same lung, and this time fired from within point blank range.
It wasn't like Yamamoto could forget...
He'd seen the blood, the perforations, the tissue damage and the power burns. He'd dreamt of shooting Hibari, over and over again, as if one bullet didn't work. Try another one, try another one... There were seven dolls.
But nightmares were only nightmares. He wasn't about to give any more weight to them if he could help it. Hibari was alive and healing.
"Hey," Yamamoto smiled softly as he stopped next to the bed, "I'm back again." He looked at Hibari's small, pale face, then turned away to slot another DVD under the growing stack that no one else touched.
"I was out with Kusakabe-san," he explained. "Wasn't very far away though. Just had to take care of... Well, some film studio caught wind of your story and thought it was cool. Did some research too, about how you suddenly appeared one day in Namimori, and got rid of all the gangs around those parts. And founded the Foundation. Haha... Didn't know anything about the Vongola though."
The beeping on the monitor seemed, for the briefest of moments, to jump erratically before it evened out again, and Yamamoto nearly jumped out of his skin. He stared at the electrocardiograph. He stared at Hibari. It wasn't just hope, right? He wet his lips and continued as calmly as he could, "See, some mafia men were talking about you, and this Italian writer heard the tail end of the conversation, and liked your name - really into Japanese things, like that Spanner..." He edged closer.
Maybe it's Yamamoto's imagination working in overdrive again, but it almost seemed that Hibari's eyelids fluttered.
"So he started looking around, asking around," Yamamoto rambled on, "flew over to Namimori even, to see if he could find you for an interview or something, which is how the Foundation learned about him in the first place... And if you're at all interested, we have his cell phone number, home number, home address and-"
The machines suddenly screeched, high-pitched and quick, lines on the monitor jumping up and down. Hibari's hand on his side curled inwards even as his breathing turned entirely erratic, lips parted, gasping.
"Hibari!" Yamamoto gasped out loud, but he still had enough wit about him to know that there was little he could do here beside staying calm and alerting the doctors. As much as he wanted to, reaching out to touch Hibari would probably set him off on a panic attack - But who's having a panic attack here?
He mashed his palm against the call button that was next to the bed and tried to speak softly. "I'm getting your doctors, Hibari. Yours. You're safe. In Rome. You're safe..."
Hibari's eyes didn't open, and his breathing only grew even more erratic and shallow, hand now digging into the bed as if he was trying to clench it but wasn't able to. For him, it actually wasn't a panic attack, but simply that...
Breathing properly seemed to be rather difficult right now.
Yamamoto didn't know what else he could do, so he just kept talking, a quiet, stream-of-consciousness flow of words. "And you're cured. They told me it really was the cure, and that they could grow your lung back with some sort of stem... thing - and you should be able to breathe properly, so why-"
There was a sudden, harsh, deep inhalation, and Hibari's jaw snapped back shut, the click resounding through the room as he dropped back down on the bed, flat on his back and disturbingly still. For another long moment, there was nothing but Hibari's loud breathing as the man visibly struggled to regain control.
His lips moved, mouthing something incomprehensible to Yamamoto.
But regardless of whether Yamamoto could read his lips, the door was pushed opened, and Nakamura rushed in with a team of people, all in white lab coats.
"Nakamura-san!" Yamamoto started away to give the experts some space, half of him wary and unwilling to move too far from Hibari's side.
Nakamura turned to him, nodding sharply at the boy - no, man who had visited this room almost everyday in the past three months before turning to his team of doctors and nurses. "Don't restrain him," he said curtly, pulling on his gloves. "Keep your distance. Let Hibari-san calm himself first."
And Hibari seemed to be calming himself down - his breathing eased, evening out until his chest was rising and falling at nearly regular intervals. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his eyes opened the barest of slits.
In the time it took for Hibari to get his bearings, Yamamoto managed to catch his breath, fear for Hibari's life fluttering away with each breath to be replaced by relief and elation. He brushed a hand over his face, the corners of his lips quirking upwards slightly.
The doctors slowly moved in, checking his vitals and his condition. Nakamura glanced over to Yamamoto, uttering a sharp, "Get him some water," and then looking back at his patient.
Hibari still looked like hell warmed over, with eyes that were too dry to open fully, pale, cracking lips and an ash-pale complexion. But Nakamura was used to this, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief when he realized that with Hibari awake, he could actually go home soon.
And as Yamamoto ran out of the room with that charming, little boy smile back on his face, the doctor also realized it was the first time he'd seen that smile again in a long while.
***
The next time Yamamoto stepped into the room, Hibari was propped up on a mountain of pillows, breathing deep and even. A remote control was on a nightstand beside him, and Hibari's eyes were fixed on the television in front of him.
A television which was emitting Yamamoto's own voice.
Hibari shifted on the bed, turning to face the door at the sound of footsteps. "Yamamoto Takeshi," he greeted quietly, still sounding hoarse.
But just hearing that voice made Yamamoto smile. "Hey..." He glanced at the television screen, gave a sheepish laugh, and walked over. The sunflower stand in the far corner practically screamed 'Ryohei,' sporting characteristically bold and illegible hiragana that had to be some get well message or other. From the fruits baskets next to it, on the floor, it looked like plenty of people had come in to crowd Hibari today. Yamamoto grinned at that, and decided not to get too close.
"Should I let you finish the show?"
There was a dark and rather ominous aura around Hibari as he narrowed his eyes, lips curling up in distaste. He was irritated, no doubt about that - ever since he had woken up, there had been endless amounts of visits from people who kept giving him things that he had no need or want for. The DVDs were just one of those things.
Motioning towards them, he asked, "What is this."
"Ah... Hibird went round with me on a couple of my last missions," Yamamoto shrugged. "Seems like he's a natural with finding good observation points, so I asked him to do me a favor while he's watching me work."
He had clapped his hands together and practically bribed the bird with food - lots of food - found a mini-camera that the clever creature wouldn't mind strapping on its back, and even managed to talk Kusakabe into helping. Somehow. He wasn't sure how.
"Squalo sent me a whole bunch of DVDs of his sword matches, so I figured, why not do something similar?"
Hibari looked at the other man for a long moment before turning his attentions back to the screen where Yamamoto was calmly and systematically decimating a whole group of herbivores. The Shigure Kintoki sliced through bodies with the ease of a hot knife through butter, blood spilling across the floors and walls. But the camera, it seemed, remained clean - Hibari expected nothing less from that bird.
Yamamoto was faster now, his movements more fluid than it had been when he had last fought the man. He moved from a defensive form into an offensive without a hitch or hesitation, hands steady and eyes unclouded. Even though the screen, Hibari could detect the killing intent, sincere and thick in the air, sharp and metallic like blood on a sword.
The wolf had finally shed its sheepskin. Hibari's lips curled up into a tiny, almost indiscernible smirk. He glanced back towards Yamamoto.
"So why do you show me this, Yamamoto Takeshi?"
"So that you can see for yourself," the Rain guardian replied with a slight tilt of his head, "whether I'm strong enough to stick around."
I don't allow weaklings around me, Hibari once said. Yamamoto had then promised himself that he would become stronger whether Hibari would be around to see that - but Hibari was alive and awake...
Hibari motioned towards the screen with a hand, smirk fading on his lips as he raised an eyebrow. "And you think this is enough," he stated tonelessly.
"Nah," Yamamoto grinned impishly, "There'll be more." Whether Hibari decide to watch them all or not, the fact that he was actually watching was a good start. Besides that, he had to admit that Squalo had the right idea: the videos served as grounding tools, and helped him with his form.
Hibari shook his head slowly, still wary of dizziness, his eyes closing as he leaned back against the pillows. He exhaled quietly, almost a sigh. "I do not mean the videos, Yamamoto Takeshi."
The other man blinked. After a moment, his eyes narrowed. "... We're not sparing again until you've healed completely," Yamamoto stated.
A chuff under the breath, almost inaudible, before Hibari smirked slightly. "Of course. I will be of no challenge to you right now." He said this matter-of-factly, shrugging because it was the truth. Right now he might be even more weakened than he was before that fight with Byakuran. It had been three months since he had done any physical activity at all - his muscles had all atrophied by now.
"Haha," Yamamoto scratched his cheek; it wasn't what he meant, but it was just like Hibari to think in those terms. "Yeah, but you'll get stronger again." He looked away from Hibari, towards the television screen, and grinned wryly, a little self-conscious but happier than he could articulate.
"What are you smiling about, Yamamoto Takeshi?"
If anything, those words just made him smile a little brighter. While Hibari sounded like he was completely bored, he wasn't one to start a conversation just to fill in silences. He wouldn't have voiced anything that he didn't actually care to consider.
"You're awake," he simply replied when he looked back at Hibari.
But Hibari simply tilted his head, meeting Yamamoto's gaze straight on with his own impassive eyes. "That is not an explanation." Even if it was, it would be a ridiculous one - Hibari didn't know why him being awake would make anyone smile.
He scowled slightly - that feeling was starting in his chest again, tightening his throat until his breath hitched.
"I'm smiling because you're awake," Yamamoto reiterated, but he'd caught that slight hitch. He moved closer. "How're you feeling?"
That, in Hibari's book, was a question that wasn't even worth answering. He turned away from Yamamoto towards the nightstand, reaching out towards the glass of ice water because, all of the sudden, there was a pickling at the back of his throat. His fingers closed around the glass, lifting it off the nightstand.
But as he tried to bring it close, it slowly started to slip out of his grasp.
Yamamoto had a hand around Hibari's before he realized.
Hibari's eyes snapped up to him immediately. "Let go."
But Yamamoto flushed faintly and blinked at the glass for a second; Nakamura had said that Hibari would need physiotherapy. "I'm... not hurting you, am I?"
A light chuckle, and Yamamoto relaxed his grip. His hand slid from Hibari's and down the glass so that he was holding it up in his palm. So that Hibari could lift it away when he was ready too.
Hibari was stubborn, but at times he did know his limits. Especially after recent events. Not lifting his glare from Yamamoto, he reached out with both hands around the glass, curling his fingers around the cool surface and making sure that he had a secure grip before pulling it towards him.
Scowling furiously, he sipped at the ice water - he hated this, this despicable weakness. It wasn't a simple weakness anymore - he was weak, period. He couldn't even lift a glass by himself. How pathetic.
The thought made his knuckles whiten around the glass.
"If it's because you feel weak, it's only temporary." Yamamoto finally said. "You'll be up and biting people to death in no time."
In response, Hibari only turned away from him, placing the glass on the stand on the other side of the bed. Closing his eyes, he smoothed out his expression until it was impassive again. It was much easier now that the burning in his throat and the ache in his chest had stopped.
"You're speaking useless words, Yamamoto Takeshi."
"They must have some use," came the calm, reasoning reply. “You're responding."
But now that he had pointed it out, he... wondered if Hibari would stop talking to him out of pride or something. He laughed softly and really hoped not. "Sorry."
A dark thought crossed his mind. His brows creased. If he hadn't pulled the trigger, Hibari wouldn't be so weak now. If he hadn't pulled the trigger, Hibari would have died sooner or later from that Hibiscus thing. Would Hibari have preferred that?
Hibari let the silence stretch between them for a long moment. He didn't mind it, and it seemed that Yamamoto needed that time to think and mull upon whatever that was on his mind.
Linking his fingers together on his lap, Hibari turned to the other man again. "Sawada Tsunayoshi told me that it was you who found the cure."
"Huh?" That startled Yamamoto out of his thoughts. "Mukuro led us to it. Byakuran had given him a... a clue, I guess."
At the name, Hibari's eyes immediately sharpened, hands curling into a loose fist. "Byakuran." A pause; the tension in the air thickened as Hibari pressed down on the residual anger he still felt towards the other man. "Does he still live?"
Yamamoto's face went blank. "Ah," he gave a stiff nod. "Tsuna..." Must have seen something or other in Byakuran that made him stay his hand. Mukuro, with a devil-may-cry smile, had all but promised that he'd keep him in line from now on.
"Sawada Tsunayoshi saved him," Hibari guessed correctly from Yamamoto's expression. He closed his eyes for a moment, lips thinning in obvious displeasure. "Why?"
"Because... Tsuna wouldn't be Tsuna otherwise," Yamamoto responded quietly, a mirthless smile crawling over his lips. He had wanted to kill Byakuran, personally... but there was the chance that Hibari would wake up wanting to do that himself.
" Then he is a fool," Hibari said sharply. It wasn't just personal vendetta speaking, but simple common sense. His hand clenched around the bed sheets, and the air seemed to move even slower around him, caught up in his anger.
He breathed out.
"I should have bitten him to death," he said, almost contemplatively.
Back: Part 14
Next: Part 16
Oh! Of note! Song suggestions are totally welcome! For this part, previous parts or just for Windshear in general ♥ Thanks!
Windshear Part [15/?]
Authors: kagayachou and the-dw
Characters/Pairings: Tsuna, Reborn, Gokudera, Ryohei. Byakuran/Mukuro, eventual Yamamoto/Hibari.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 6237
Summary: In the aftermath of the fight, everyone waits for the survivors to wake up, but the world keeps turning. Tsuna has a talk with Gokudera. Reborn has a talk with Yamamaoto. But what about Hibari?
Fingers linked on his lap and leaning back against the wall, Mukuro gazed through half-lidded eyes at the immobile, entirely white figure on the bed. Byakuran looked washed out like this, nearly blending in with the sheets that surrounded him. Mukuro pressed his lips together, and then gave a small, theatrical sigh.
Truth be told, he was getting a little worried about his 'playmate'. Byakuran had been asleep for nearing three weeks now, and he still showed no signs of waking up. His famiglia didn't seem to be too concerned about him as well - they had never been there the admittedly few times Mukuro visited.
His lips split open into a huge yawn as he sank down even further in his chair, waiting for the end of his shift to come.
And he probably would have fallen asleep himself if the electrocardiograph by the bed hadn't suddenly beeped faster and louder.
Mukuro blinked and straightened slightly, glancing briefly towards the heart monitor screen before his eyes went right back to the white-haired man. After a moment of listening to those beeps climb and fall into a steady pattern once more, he smiled to himself and padded over to the side of the bed.
Byakuran's ring finger twitched.
"Kufufufu..." Would Byakuran notice, he wondered, that the Mare Sky ring was missing?
Mukuro yawned again, plopping down to sit on the metal chair beside the bed, keeping a closer eye on Byakuran. The machines were starting to beep sharper, more frequently, and Mukuro turned his head to look at them, seemingly bored.
He rubbed the tip of his trident against his fingers, and then collapsed it to keep it out of the way. It would be fun, he thought, when Byakuran woke up and discovered his new little wound. Quite unfortunate, really, that the man had left himself so open and vulnerable to Mukuro, lying on the hospital bed like that. Their little games wouldn't be on such equal grounds then before.
A sudden shift in breathing made his head jerk back to the bed. He narrowed his eyes.
"...Ah," Byakuran's voice was raspy and low from disuse. "That's horrible, Mukuro-kun, to take my ring like that." A short cough; perhaps it was meant to be a laugh. "You need to wait until I propose."
Mukuro shook his head, smiling back. "If it was up to you, Byakuran-san, it'd take forever. You wouldn't think of making it official, not until you've reached all your career aspirations."
And until then, Mukuro more or less knew that he himself was probably expendable in the other man's eyes.
Byakuran's lips drew into a pout immediately. "...Doesn't mean that you have to take my ring, Mukuro-kun," he complained hoarsely. Pressing an elbow into the mattress, he tried to sit up.
"Careful, Byakuran-san," Mukuro raised a hand initially, as if to help. Then, he touched two fingers to his lips instead, "You may not feel anything at the moment, but that's because the Vongola's doctors have you on anaesthetics... You've been badly burnt."
For the briefest of moments, Byakuran's eyes widened in shock at Mukuro's movement. Then, he seemed to recover himself and was smiling again, sliding gently back down to lie on his back. He laughed a little.
"Now that's rare, Mukuro-kun showing such concern..." and his smile widened a little more.
"You are the one who will propose to me," Mukuro impishly replied, then quietly added, "and the one who will destroy the mafia world as we all know it?"
Internally, he alerted Chrome, knowing that she would inform the doctors.
Byakuran's eyes snapped open at the latter part of the statement, but then he relaxed back into his bed again, seemingly casual. "Does Mukuro-kun not like the idea of that?" He cocked his head to the side, like an inquisitive bird.
"You hate the mafia, don't you?"
"Hm?" Mukuro mirrored his movement with a slight tilt of his head. "Hate... is such a weak word to describe how much I despise it." His smile grew then, but did not reach his eyes. Rather, his expression was mockingly serene as he continued, "I loathe the mafia."
At the most honest words he’d ever heard from Mukuro, Byakuran simply threw his head back and laughed, truly joyous at the sheer anger and hatred he could see in Mukuro's eyes. Ah, Mukuro-kun, you would never change, would you?
He coughed harshly, turning to his side and wincing as the movement nearly tugged the IV tubes out of his arm. Dropping back to his back, he gasped for breath as his throat burned, far too dry for him to continue speaking.
Mukuro just watched him for a brief moment, almost apathetic to his laughter and his suffering. He tilted his head towards the door as hurried footstep grew louder and halted outside the door. In a couple of quick, light strides, he stopped in front of the room entrance as well, just in time to give the doctors and nurses an eerie little smile.
"I'll be back in a little while, Byakuran-san," he said as he slipped past the newcomers and into the corridor.
There were only so many lab coats Mukuro could stand in one room.
***
Gokudera's eyes followed the misty wisps of cigarette smoke as it rose towards the warm, orange sky. Tsuna slid the door of the roof open gently, stepping through it with silent steps. He stood beside the door for a moment, watching.
Then, he smiled slightly and started towards his Storm Guardian, "Good afternoon, Gokudera-kun."
Automatically, "Tenth-!" Gokudera blinked and snuffed out the cancer stick against the cement balustrade as turned towards him. He walked a couple of steps closer, then stopped in front of him at a respectful distance away.
Tsuna's smile widened as he nodded to Gokudera, a subtle acknowledgment, before heading back towards the railings. He leaned his back against it, turning to face Gokudera. For a moment, his eyes flickered towards the cigarette lying on the floor.
"What happened, Gokudera-kun? Didn't you quit?"
Gokudera grimaced, and responded with a quiet exhale - a soft laugh. "I'm still trying. I'd been going cold turkey for the last few days," he explained. "Now I'm trying to wean myself off from the nicotine in increments, so the withdrawal symptoms won't affect my performance as much..."
"Gokudera-kun," Tsuna interrupted him firmly yet kindly. He reached forward and placed an arm on his Right Hand Man's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I don't care whether or not it affects your performance - I know you always try your best, and that's all I ask for."
He stepped forward, eyes concerned and serious, "But are you really all right?"
The silver-haired guardian nodded initially, and then seemed to catch himself. Quickly, he looked away, eyes downcast. "I'm all right, Tenth. I'm just... concerned for the baseball idiot, and..." he sighed deeply. "Byakuran is awake now," he nearly spat out.
He leaned his elbows against the balustrade once more and rested his chin over the back of his hands."It's just... It's not fair."
Tsuna sobered in an instant, turning to look at the fading sun and his lips were pressed into a line, turned downwards. Slowly, his fingers folded into a fist, and he sighed, a harsh, displeased gust.
"It isn't," a pause, and he brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Is... Is Yamamoto all right?"
Gokudera frowned at the question, and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. He's... been keeping himself busy with Dino-san lately, and... Kusakabe-san says he's been a great help at the Foundation for some reason or other...
"Do you think that’s all right, Tenth?"
Tsuna sighed again, worrying at his lip as he turned to look at Gokudera. He gave the other man a small, reassuring nod and smile, "I'm sure he will be. Yamamoto isn't the sort to let things like this get him down, right?"
"... Right!" Gokudera smiled back, nodding almost brightly. Almost.
"That baseball idiot... Don't worry, Tenth. Hibird will take care of him," he added with a wry grin. After a few seconds, however, he looked back at Tsuna calmly. "Is there anything you want me to do? About him, or... "
Tsuna had to blink at that. "Hibird? What do you mean, Gokudera-kun?"
The mental image of Hibird flapping around Yamamoto, fussing like a mother hen did with her chicks made him chuckle under his breath, tension flowing from his shoulders like the tide going out.
Gokudera smiled easier at that. "I mean that it's almost... like they're birds of a feather - like they naturally understand each other," he shrugged, "even more than Hibari..." He trailed off. Bird brained, the lot of them.
Tsuna's eyes turned serious immediately, but he still tried to keep the mood light. "That's a horrid pun, Gokudera-kun. As clever as I'm sure Hibird is, Yamamoto isn't that bad." Especially since Yamamoto had long given up on keeping the facade of the 'mafia game'.
With a shake of his head, Tsuna continued, "There's something I would like you to do for me."
Gokudera just grinned sheepishly and pushed away his own doubts, turning back towards him, back straight. If the man was going to get down to business, Gokudera was prepared to do whatever was required for him - for the Vongola in its entirety.
Tsuna merely smiled at that, truly happy and relieved at Gokudera's dedication. But that was the problem right now, wasn't it? He took a step forward and reached out a hand to squeeze Gokudera's shoulder.
"Take care of yourself. You always have a bad habit of not doing that, Gokudera-kun. So that's all I want you to do right now." His eyes softened even further, brimming with concern. "Is that all right with you?"
Tense. Gokudera's shoulders felt so very tense. It was an effort to relax his stiff muscles, especially since Tsuna's hand was right there, and it would have been easier to feign being bright and easy-going even though they both knew that he was never truly good at that.
"Of course, Tenth," he nodded with a small, uncertain smile. He'd take care of himself like it was his dying will if that's what made Tsuna happy.
But that wasn't what Tsuna wanted. His smile faded slightly, a crease forming between his brow before he placed his other hand on Gokudera's shoulder, drawing his Storm Guardian closer. His amber eyes bore into green, and when he spoke he sounded concerned, yet firm.
"I'm serious about it." He shook his head, a little sad, a little angry at himself. "You still have your bad habit of not looking out for yourself. I don't want you to take care of yourself for my sake, Gokudera-kun."
He gave Gokudera's shoulders a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I want you to do it for your own sake."
Gokudera's hands twitched. He wanted to do something that would relieve Tsuna's concerns - kneel, kiss the back of his hand, offer him his pinky finger with a solemn promise. Yes, believe me, I'll look out for myself. For you. For the famiglia - which is, of course, ultimately for myself as well. But none of that would really make Tsuna feel any better, he knew.
"I... I will-," There was only so long that he could deal with Tsuna's eyes and intution turned upon him; he looked away, down to the cigarette butt on the floor. "I am... In the process."
Tsuna knew that Gokudera was trying his very best, that he was doing all that he could. Gokudera had never been one for halves, after all, and he always, always threw himself so entirely into whatever he was doing, disregarding his own body's needs and concerns. His dedication was what made him such a capable right hand, Tsuna knew this, yet...
They might be adults now, but sometimes Tsuna still wanted to just watch the fireworks with his friends. He wanted to forget about the mafia - for a few days, one day, or even just a couple of hours - and just be with his friends, knowing that he wasn't putting them in danger and that every time he sent that out, he wasn't sending them to their deaths.
That every time he gave Gokudera something to do, his first friend wouldn't push himself so far and hard that he’d collapse.
Tsuna sighed softly, and let his hands fall back to the side. "I'm glad you are, Gokudera-kun. It's a relief."
Gokudera relaxed at those words. "Don't worry, Tenth. It's my job to stick around, and stay fit and reliable as your right hand man.
"You don't want me to do it for your sake alone," he acknowledged with a nod. "But I'm not. Not anymore..."
He might have added more, except the door to the roof was slammed open at that moment.
"Sawada! There you are!" Sasagawa Ryohei's smile seemed to light up the sky in the absence of the sun. "Come on, sis! I found him!" He yelled downstairs.
Tsuna's head jerked immediately towards Ryohei's voice, and his smile as Kyoko's head popped out from the door was brighter than even the sun itself. But he hadn't forgotten about Gokudera - far from it - turning to look at him even as Ryohei jogged over, swinging an arm over Gokudera's shoulder and grinning, but his mouth clicked back shut when he realized that Tsuna was about to speak.
But I'm not. Not anymore... Tsuna's smile softened at the edge, and he laughed a little. That certainly did take a little weight off his shoulders. He nodded at Ryohei, thanking him for his temporary silence before capturing Gokudera's eyes with his again.
"That's good then." He reached out and placed a hand on Gokudera's arm, squeezing for a brief moment, "Though, I still would like you to take care of yourself for your own sake, but one step at a time, right?"
And his ensuing chuckle was teasing.
Gokudera sputtered, initially confused. "R-right, but I..." He had been about to say that he'd take care of himself for his own sake - what did Tsuna mean by- oh fu-! He stiffened. There was a flush of warmth that spread over his cheeks as he realized that Tsuna's hyper intuition had picked up something that was wrong - so wrong.
But it was the Tenth - he was never entirely off when he noticed anything, which meant - Gokudera's brows creased as he shied a glance at Ryohei, only half-speculative.
...No way. Came a feeble mental protest.
"So, Octopussy," Ryohei grinned, happily oblivious to Gokudera's internal turmoil, "How's about we give these lovebirds some alone time, and go do some of that close combat training we’ve been talking about?"
Tsuna blinked, looking from Gokudera's red face to Ryohei's grin, then back again. Oh wait- they hadn't realized it yet. Or perhaps there was only the barest seed of it, and his hyper intuition had picked up on it and exaggerated it like it was prone to do. But then...
He grinned slightly to Ryohei, turning away from them as Kyoko came up to him. Wrapping an arm around his fiancée's waist, he kissed her cheek lightly. Kyoko giggled, but she knew him for long enough to simply hold him close while he finished with Gokudera and Ryohei.
"Close combat training?" he raised an eyebrow, then his smile widened. "You're working hard, Gokudera-kun." Well, he grimaced mentally, someone had to pick up the slack that Hibari's absence had created, and it was just like Gokudera to trust no one but himself to do it. Tsuna nodded.
"I'll see you later, then?"
Gokudera looked at Tsuna, then at Kyoko and back again. He didn't have the heart to take up more of their time together, so he just nodded. "O-of course, Tenth!" Ryohei was seriously going to get it for calling him a Bond Girl!
"Great!" Ryohei pumped a fist into the air, nearly cackling as he proceeded to drag Gokudera off. His sister missed her fiancé, and he knew that in the aftermath of that incident with Gesso, Tsuna would want her company more than ever. "Take care of of each other!" He gave a short little wave to the couple before turning back to Gokudera.
"Now, Octopussy, let's spar to the extreme!"
“If you keep calling me that,” Gokudera growled as he stalked off, “I'll shave the grass off the top of your head like an lawnmower set on extreme."
***
To some degree, Gokudera was right. Yamamoto had been hanging out around Dino and Kusakabe, and Hibird was often seen flying around him or on his shoulder... but at the moment, he wasn't with any of them. Dino had gone back to his wife and children, Kusakabe was busy making sure the Foundation was still running smoothly, Hibird was... somewhere. Not here, in Yamamoto's office - not when Reborn's there for a private little chat.
Reborn seated himself down on the leather chair opposite Yamamoto, linking his fingers together and dropping his head on them. His dark eyes remained fixed on the other man, only half-covered by his hat's shadow.
"So, what are you going to do now? Stay here?"
"Ah," Yamamoto scratched his head and gave a wry laugh as he leaned back onto the couch. "My old man wants me to go back to Japan first - he's worried - but you know I can't up and leave just yet..."
Reborn shook his head immediately, "I didn't ask you what your father wants you to do, Yamamoto." His voice was calm and almost dry. "I asked what are you going to do."
"After all, Hibari is..."
Yamamoto shook his head. A dry laugh escaped his throat. "I'm not going to run away, kiddo. I haven't seen much of Gokudera lately but I know he and Ryohei, and even Lambo have been working hard running around with more missions than they should be handling...
"I'm not going to take a break when there's people running around thinking the Vongola's going to be easy pickings without their strongest guardian."
"Good," Reborn said, professional as always. He ignored the darkness in Yamamoto's eyes, ignored the downward turn of his mouth and simply stood up, looking at Yamamoto through the brim of his hat.
"The Family is more important than the individual, Yamamoto," he said quietly. "But I'm sure you know that."
"Is it, really?" Yamamoto quietly asked. "I couldn't help but notice that... the Gesso family's been falling apart without Byakuran, fighting amongst themselves like he was the only thing holding them together..."
"You misunderstand me," Reborn said immediately. But his lips were curved into a small, nearly imperceptible smile. "The Family is the leader. Why do you think we take such measures to protect that silly student of mine?"
"But you're all family to me," he looked up at the older man.
Reborn gave him a look, as if telling him not to be stupid, not to be purposefully obtuse. But those were honest eyes, and Yamamoto actually meant what he said.
Sighing, the older hitman dropped down to sit on the couch beside the younger one. "Family - kazoku - and the famiglia are different things, Yamamoto. I thought you've already learnt that."
Yamamoto blinked at him, a slight crease in his brows. "The words... They mean different people to me," not things, he didn't say - he didn't need to. "But there's no difference in my will to help them, should they need me around.
"Right now, I can't help Hibari anymore... But if I can help you and Tsuna and the rest, then that's what I'll do." He grinned then, "This Ring will reject me if I'm not the Vongola Rain guardian, right?"
Yamamoto had misunderstood him, Reborn thought silently, watching the other man. He wasn't talking about the difference between 'family' or 'Family' in the beginning at all - only that Hibari, as an 'individual' wasn't as important to the Family for it to fall apart. Yet Reborn supposed that if he said so, the gun that was hidden in Yamamoto's coat would be aimed at his throat in a moment.
He wasn't afraid of that - of course not - but it was a simple matter of indulgence. If Yamamoto wanted to carry the conversation in this direction to distract him from the true situation, then Reborn supposed he could suffer it.
"Correct. The Ring would reject you if that was the case." He leaned backwards towards the couch, "But it hasn't, because you are the true Rain Guardian of the Vongola Tenth." He stood up slowly, all lean grace and masked intent, and headed for the door.
Then, he turned back, "Tsuna still needs you. Don't fall apart now, just because of what happened to Hibari."
"I won't." Yamamoto actually chuckled as he stood as well. He shook his head as he made to open the door for his mentor. "Hibari wouldn't want that."
And Reborn had to laugh as well, taking half a step out of the door. He tipped his head back and smirked at Yamamoto.
"Well, you can ask him what he will want when he wakes up, can't you?"
Yamamoto's eyes shone as he nodded back.
***
The room was entirely silent except for the soft, consistent beeping of the machines. It was white, so white that Hibari's black hair contrasted so starkly against the bed and the pillows that it seemed to drain what little color he had away.
Yamamoto closed the door behind him as silently as he entered, a soundless sigh escaping his lips. It'd been... almost three months. Hibari was healthy, Nakamura had informed him in a clipped tone, but his body had to heal from all the strain that it had gone through. Not to mention the second bullet they had to take out from the same lung, and this time fired from within point blank range.
It wasn't like Yamamoto could forget...
He'd seen the blood, the perforations, the tissue damage and the power burns. He'd dreamt of shooting Hibari, over and over again, as if one bullet didn't work. Try another one, try another one... There were seven dolls.
But nightmares were only nightmares. He wasn't about to give any more weight to them if he could help it. Hibari was alive and healing.
"Hey," Yamamoto smiled softly as he stopped next to the bed, "I'm back again." He looked at Hibari's small, pale face, then turned away to slot another DVD under the growing stack that no one else touched.
"I was out with Kusakabe-san," he explained. "Wasn't very far away though. Just had to take care of... Well, some film studio caught wind of your story and thought it was cool. Did some research too, about how you suddenly appeared one day in Namimori, and got rid of all the gangs around those parts. And founded the Foundation. Haha... Didn't know anything about the Vongola though."
The beeping on the monitor seemed, for the briefest of moments, to jump erratically before it evened out again, and Yamamoto nearly jumped out of his skin. He stared at the electrocardiograph. He stared at Hibari. It wasn't just hope, right? He wet his lips and continued as calmly as he could, "See, some mafia men were talking about you, and this Italian writer heard the tail end of the conversation, and liked your name - really into Japanese things, like that Spanner..." He edged closer.
Maybe it's Yamamoto's imagination working in overdrive again, but it almost seemed that Hibari's eyelids fluttered.
"So he started looking around, asking around," Yamamoto rambled on, "flew over to Namimori even, to see if he could find you for an interview or something, which is how the Foundation learned about him in the first place... And if you're at all interested, we have his cell phone number, home number, home address and-"
The machines suddenly screeched, high-pitched and quick, lines on the monitor jumping up and down. Hibari's hand on his side curled inwards even as his breathing turned entirely erratic, lips parted, gasping.
"Hibari!" Yamamoto gasped out loud, but he still had enough wit about him to know that there was little he could do here beside staying calm and alerting the doctors. As much as he wanted to, reaching out to touch Hibari would probably set him off on a panic attack - But who's having a panic attack here?
He mashed his palm against the call button that was next to the bed and tried to speak softly. "I'm getting your doctors, Hibari. Yours. You're safe. In Rome. You're safe..."
Hibari's eyes didn't open, and his breathing only grew even more erratic and shallow, hand now digging into the bed as if he was trying to clench it but wasn't able to. For him, it actually wasn't a panic attack, but simply that...
Breathing properly seemed to be rather difficult right now.
Yamamoto didn't know what else he could do, so he just kept talking, a quiet, stream-of-consciousness flow of words. "And you're cured. They told me it really was the cure, and that they could grow your lung back with some sort of stem... thing - and you should be able to breathe properly, so why-"
There was a sudden, harsh, deep inhalation, and Hibari's jaw snapped back shut, the click resounding through the room as he dropped back down on the bed, flat on his back and disturbingly still. For another long moment, there was nothing but Hibari's loud breathing as the man visibly struggled to regain control.
His lips moved, mouthing something incomprehensible to Yamamoto.
But regardless of whether Yamamoto could read his lips, the door was pushed opened, and Nakamura rushed in with a team of people, all in white lab coats.
"Nakamura-san!" Yamamoto started away to give the experts some space, half of him wary and unwilling to move too far from Hibari's side.
Nakamura turned to him, nodding sharply at the boy - no, man who had visited this room almost everyday in the past three months before turning to his team of doctors and nurses. "Don't restrain him," he said curtly, pulling on his gloves. "Keep your distance. Let Hibari-san calm himself first."
And Hibari seemed to be calming himself down - his breathing eased, evening out until his chest was rising and falling at nearly regular intervals. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his eyes opened the barest of slits.
In the time it took for Hibari to get his bearings, Yamamoto managed to catch his breath, fear for Hibari's life fluttering away with each breath to be replaced by relief and elation. He brushed a hand over his face, the corners of his lips quirking upwards slightly.
The doctors slowly moved in, checking his vitals and his condition. Nakamura glanced over to Yamamoto, uttering a sharp, "Get him some water," and then looking back at his patient.
Hibari still looked like hell warmed over, with eyes that were too dry to open fully, pale, cracking lips and an ash-pale complexion. But Nakamura was used to this, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief when he realized that with Hibari awake, he could actually go home soon.
And as Yamamoto ran out of the room with that charming, little boy smile back on his face, the doctor also realized it was the first time he'd seen that smile again in a long while.
***
The next time Yamamoto stepped into the room, Hibari was propped up on a mountain of pillows, breathing deep and even. A remote control was on a nightstand beside him, and Hibari's eyes were fixed on the television in front of him.
A television which was emitting Yamamoto's own voice.
Hibari shifted on the bed, turning to face the door at the sound of footsteps. "Yamamoto Takeshi," he greeted quietly, still sounding hoarse.
But just hearing that voice made Yamamoto smile. "Hey..." He glanced at the television screen, gave a sheepish laugh, and walked over. The sunflower stand in the far corner practically screamed 'Ryohei,' sporting characteristically bold and illegible hiragana that had to be some get well message or other. From the fruits baskets next to it, on the floor, it looked like plenty of people had come in to crowd Hibari today. Yamamoto grinned at that, and decided not to get too close.
"Should I let you finish the show?"
There was a dark and rather ominous aura around Hibari as he narrowed his eyes, lips curling up in distaste. He was irritated, no doubt about that - ever since he had woken up, there had been endless amounts of visits from people who kept giving him things that he had no need or want for. The DVDs were just one of those things.
Motioning towards them, he asked, "What is this."
"Ah... Hibird went round with me on a couple of my last missions," Yamamoto shrugged. "Seems like he's a natural with finding good observation points, so I asked him to do me a favor while he's watching me work."
He had clapped his hands together and practically bribed the bird with food - lots of food - found a mini-camera that the clever creature wouldn't mind strapping on its back, and even managed to talk Kusakabe into helping. Somehow. He wasn't sure how.
"Squalo sent me a whole bunch of DVDs of his sword matches, so I figured, why not do something similar?"
Hibari looked at the other man for a long moment before turning his attentions back to the screen where Yamamoto was calmly and systematically decimating a whole group of herbivores. The Shigure Kintoki sliced through bodies with the ease of a hot knife through butter, blood spilling across the floors and walls. But the camera, it seemed, remained clean - Hibari expected nothing less from that bird.
Yamamoto was faster now, his movements more fluid than it had been when he had last fought the man. He moved from a defensive form into an offensive without a hitch or hesitation, hands steady and eyes unclouded. Even though the screen, Hibari could detect the killing intent, sincere and thick in the air, sharp and metallic like blood on a sword.
The wolf had finally shed its sheepskin. Hibari's lips curled up into a tiny, almost indiscernible smirk. He glanced back towards Yamamoto.
"So why do you show me this, Yamamoto Takeshi?"
"So that you can see for yourself," the Rain guardian replied with a slight tilt of his head, "whether I'm strong enough to stick around."
I don't allow weaklings around me, Hibari once said. Yamamoto had then promised himself that he would become stronger whether Hibari would be around to see that - but Hibari was alive and awake...
Hibari motioned towards the screen with a hand, smirk fading on his lips as he raised an eyebrow. "And you think this is enough," he stated tonelessly.
"Nah," Yamamoto grinned impishly, "There'll be more." Whether Hibari decide to watch them all or not, the fact that he was actually watching was a good start. Besides that, he had to admit that Squalo had the right idea: the videos served as grounding tools, and helped him with his form.
Hibari shook his head slowly, still wary of dizziness, his eyes closing as he leaned back against the pillows. He exhaled quietly, almost a sigh. "I do not mean the videos, Yamamoto Takeshi."
The other man blinked. After a moment, his eyes narrowed. "... We're not sparing again until you've healed completely," Yamamoto stated.
A chuff under the breath, almost inaudible, before Hibari smirked slightly. "Of course. I will be of no challenge to you right now." He said this matter-of-factly, shrugging because it was the truth. Right now he might be even more weakened than he was before that fight with Byakuran. It had been three months since he had done any physical activity at all - his muscles had all atrophied by now.
"Haha," Yamamoto scratched his cheek; it wasn't what he meant, but it was just like Hibari to think in those terms. "Yeah, but you'll get stronger again." He looked away from Hibari, towards the television screen, and grinned wryly, a little self-conscious but happier than he could articulate.
"What are you smiling about, Yamamoto Takeshi?"
If anything, those words just made him smile a little brighter. While Hibari sounded like he was completely bored, he wasn't one to start a conversation just to fill in silences. He wouldn't have voiced anything that he didn't actually care to consider.
"You're awake," he simply replied when he looked back at Hibari.
But Hibari simply tilted his head, meeting Yamamoto's gaze straight on with his own impassive eyes. "That is not an explanation." Even if it was, it would be a ridiculous one - Hibari didn't know why him being awake would make anyone smile.
He scowled slightly - that feeling was starting in his chest again, tightening his throat until his breath hitched.
"I'm smiling because you're awake," Yamamoto reiterated, but he'd caught that slight hitch. He moved closer. "How're you feeling?"
That, in Hibari's book, was a question that wasn't even worth answering. He turned away from Yamamoto towards the nightstand, reaching out towards the glass of ice water because, all of the sudden, there was a pickling at the back of his throat. His fingers closed around the glass, lifting it off the nightstand.
But as he tried to bring it close, it slowly started to slip out of his grasp.
Yamamoto had a hand around Hibari's before he realized.
Hibari's eyes snapped up to him immediately. "Let go."
But Yamamoto flushed faintly and blinked at the glass for a second; Nakamura had said that Hibari would need physiotherapy. "I'm... not hurting you, am I?"
A light chuckle, and Yamamoto relaxed his grip. His hand slid from Hibari's and down the glass so that he was holding it up in his palm. So that Hibari could lift it away when he was ready too.
Hibari was stubborn, but at times he did know his limits. Especially after recent events. Not lifting his glare from Yamamoto, he reached out with both hands around the glass, curling his fingers around the cool surface and making sure that he had a secure grip before pulling it towards him.
Scowling furiously, he sipped at the ice water - he hated this, this despicable weakness. It wasn't a simple weakness anymore - he was weak, period. He couldn't even lift a glass by himself. How pathetic.
The thought made his knuckles whiten around the glass.
"If it's because you feel weak, it's only temporary." Yamamoto finally said. "You'll be up and biting people to death in no time."
In response, Hibari only turned away from him, placing the glass on the stand on the other side of the bed. Closing his eyes, he smoothed out his expression until it was impassive again. It was much easier now that the burning in his throat and the ache in his chest had stopped.
"You're speaking useless words, Yamamoto Takeshi."
"They must have some use," came the calm, reasoning reply. “You're responding."
But now that he had pointed it out, he... wondered if Hibari would stop talking to him out of pride or something. He laughed softly and really hoped not. "Sorry."
A dark thought crossed his mind. His brows creased. If he hadn't pulled the trigger, Hibari wouldn't be so weak now. If he hadn't pulled the trigger, Hibari would have died sooner or later from that Hibiscus thing. Would Hibari have preferred that?
Hibari let the silence stretch between them for a long moment. He didn't mind it, and it seemed that Yamamoto needed that time to think and mull upon whatever that was on his mind.
Linking his fingers together on his lap, Hibari turned to the other man again. "Sawada Tsunayoshi told me that it was you who found the cure."
"Huh?" That startled Yamamoto out of his thoughts. "Mukuro led us to it. Byakuran had given him a... a clue, I guess."
At the name, Hibari's eyes immediately sharpened, hands curling into a loose fist. "Byakuran." A pause; the tension in the air thickened as Hibari pressed down on the residual anger he still felt towards the other man. "Does he still live?"
Yamamoto's face went blank. "Ah," he gave a stiff nod. "Tsuna..." Must have seen something or other in Byakuran that made him stay his hand. Mukuro, with a devil-may-cry smile, had all but promised that he'd keep him in line from now on.
"Sawada Tsunayoshi saved him," Hibari guessed correctly from Yamamoto's expression. He closed his eyes for a moment, lips thinning in obvious displeasure. "Why?"
"Because... Tsuna wouldn't be Tsuna otherwise," Yamamoto responded quietly, a mirthless smile crawling over his lips. He had wanted to kill Byakuran, personally... but there was the chance that Hibari would wake up wanting to do that himself.
" Then he is a fool," Hibari said sharply. It wasn't just personal vendetta speaking, but simple common sense. His hand clenched around the bed sheets, and the air seemed to move even slower around him, caught up in his anger.
He breathed out.
"I should have bitten him to death," he said, almost contemplatively.
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