Yamamoto to the rescue!!
Who; Yamamoto Takeshi (withalaugh) and Jethro Shields (cuddlycakes)
What; Yamamoto is trying to find and help Shields who can no longer use his legs.
Where; Residential area
When; After Shields's arrival at Tano.
Warnings; none
( Yamamoto's sniper-scope vision finally comes in handy! )
What; Yamamoto is trying to find and help Shields who can no longer use his legs.
Where; Residential area
When; After Shields's arrival at Tano.
Warnings; none
( Yamamoto's sniper-scope vision finally comes in handy! )
Shields had sat there for a while now. He'd talked to some weirdos on his fancy calculator (interesting how they'd just pick up his signal, it must have been a group channel), he'd tried surfing the Internet but found nothing familiar or useful aside from a few maps, he'd tried calling home even (not that he expected that to work).
Now he was just sitting here. Being bored. And cold. Hoping vaguely this was all a dream or something.
When he finally noticed the running figure (Shields had half expected him not to show up, considering they hadn't really been in-depth about whereabouts) he waved disinterestedly, inwardly overwhelmingly grateful. He'd rather not have been forced to crawl to civilization, after all.
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He was looking down at Shield, so he crouched down to his level and tried to smile reassuringly.
"I hope I didn't make you wait too long."
He offered a hand.
"Yamamoto Takeshi. Pleased to meet you."
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What the hell. This guy was too friendly. Shields didn't like overly friendly people. All too often they were hiding something, and he didn't like secrets.
But he still took the offered hand. "...I'm Shields. You're Japanese, then? Guess we got pulled from all over the world."
He exhaled and avoided eye contact, scanning the desecrated landscape instead, unsure what he was looking for. He ran a hand through his hair before setting it in his lap. "So. Now what."
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"Well, you can't use your legs at all, right?" He leaned away from Shields, comfortable and at ease. After all, the harder task of finding the guy was done. "Some people have been using the theater as a base, so we can figure out what to do once we're there. For now, I'll have to carry you."
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Shields nearly winced at his own abruptness, but he had no other way to convey how abrasive the idea was. And he knew in the back of his mind it was his only option--like it or not, he was helpless in even just transporting himself--but God damn, he did not want to be carried. Just...how humiliating, honestly.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, so quiet even he could barely hear it.
"I'd...rather not," he continued lamely. "We can figure out another way, I'm sure." He lacked confidence in his own words. "How close is the theater?"
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Er, nope. That was the only way.
"Sorry, I guess being carried is a little..."
A little what? Uncomfortable? Embarassing? Yamamoto briefly searched Shields's face for an answer, and when he couldn't find one, the sentence died there.
Yamamoto sighed and then smiled - a little weakly than usual. He reached into his pocket, took out the sidekick, and loaded up Tsuruya's revised map. "We're somewhere between the former rich area and the former middle-class area. And the theater," Yamamoto's finger traced the map from one side to the other, "is right here."
It was getting a little darker, and a lot colder. He shivered a little before he caught himself.
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He dragged a hand down his face in exasperation. This was no time for pride, idiot. You can be stubborn later, when you have some form of permanent shelter.
"Fine," he conceded, "fine. Carry me. Just...on your back, all right?"
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"Here we go. Ready?"
After testing the added weight, Yamamoto stood up slowly, and began walking towards the theater. Even with his enhanced vision, the theater still looked quite far off. But they were getting closer. And although Yamamoto hadn't realized it, it was a lot less cold.
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But the silence was already agonizing. So, what, then, conversation?
He cringed inwardly.
"So, um. What...what's your world like."
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Yamamoto felt a little nostalgic as he thought of his home. He thought of Tsuna, Gokudera, Reborn, and everyone - even the Varia. "I have some amazing friends there. When I get back, I want to play the mafia game with them again."
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Still. Way to be unsettling.
Presently something else dawned on him. Yamamoto had said he was in middle school. Shields equated middle schoolers with eleven-year-olds. Now that was just weird.
"Wait a minute, you can't really be in middle school, can you? That would make me like twice your age."
He'd stayed still too long. He began fiddling with his hands instead, realizing it was probably annoying, but not really caring either.
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"Yeah, I'm really in middle school. I'm fourteen." Yamamoto turned his head to face Shields. "Shields-san, are you twenty-eight, then?"
Yamamoto was caught off guard by Shields's sudden movement and almost stumbled before he regained his balance. They've traveled for a while now, and well past the residential area. Yamamoto was able to see the theater now with his sniper-scope vision; the vision strenghtened him and he picked up his pace.
"So..." Yamamoto began casually, "Do you want to tell me about your home too?"
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Fourteen. Wow. Strong kid.
He stopped fidgeting when Yamamoto stumbled, as getting dropped would probably hurt. Thank God they were nearly there. He didn't think he could take more of this. The awkward atmosphere didn't help, either, though Shields suspected that was mostly from his end. He'd never really been very good at clicking with people.
It was only after Yamamoto asked that Shields realized he'd picked a bad conversation topic. He didn't really want to talk about where he was from, to think of it. There would be too much to explain; he was in a dodgy line of work, the relationships in his life were convoluted at best...it would just be better not to even start.
"No, I don't really want to," he said, wondering for the first time why he'd been being so mellow since he got here. Shock, perhaps? "Never mind. How close are we?"
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Better focus on the present for now. Yamamoto looked ahead and saw a McDonald's not far off. "We're nearly there."
After what felt like about 30 minutes (it was hard to tell), they were able to see the details of the theater. "And here's our stop," Yamamoto laughed, "that wasn't so bad now, was it?"
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