[KHR] Horishi-san to Oyabun and other stories
Title: Horishi-san to Oyabun (Mr. Tattoo Artist and Boss) and other stories
Category: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Characters/Pairings: Yamamoto, Hibari
Genre/Rating/Warnings: general/PG/semi-AU, character death?
Summary/Excerpt: The following are some instances in Yamamoto's and Hibari's relationship taken from different dimensions.
A/N: I...don't know what happened and how it turned out this way ^^; Also, Ching references her other fics a lot until it isn't funny anymore blog 2k11. Boop. For the yamahiba_fest. If you are looking for translations/references of foreign terms, click 'em. They're links.
Horishi-san to Oyabun and other stories
Scritch scritch
"I had a dream once," Yamamoto says.
Hibari's hand stills but he lets his client speak. His tattoo needle etches the outline of a water dragon on his back and paints it bright blue.
Scritch scritch
"I was attending a party at a resort house by the beach. The room was packed with people and the walls were a cream wood." Yamamoto's breath hitches from pain and arches slightly upward. Hibari pats the sheen of sweat off his skin with a towel and picks up another needle.
Scritch scritch
"This cloaked guy wielding two katanas came in and started killing everybody." He readjusts his position on the futon. Hibari continues drawing.
"Everyone flew into a panic and I was running around trying to follow him. I didn't know what I wanted to do. Once the walls were covered red and everyone was dead, he turned around..."
Scritch scritch
"...and slashed open my stomach."
Hibari clicks his tongue. "Don't move around so much. The needle will go deeper than I want it to."
"I died and woke up."
Scritch scritch
They finished the rest of their session in silence.
The permanent twitch under Cashier-san's left eye
"Chocolate," Yamamoto reads out loud with childlike fascination. He picks up the small square box next to it. "Strawberry...orange...banana...grape." He sniffs the purple package and puts it down with the shake of a head. "Won't jive with his taste."
Gokudera, the konbini part-timer, glares at his meticulous customer, slightly (and only ever so slightly) thankful there wasn't a line forming behind him (yet). Tsuna, his (supposed) supervisor, breaks out in a nervous sweat. His fingers twist his colorful apron in anxious knots.
Yamamoto straightens up and several boxes of condoms spill onto the counter. "Should I get the flavored ones or the ribbed ones?"
"The flavored ones contain sugar," Gokudera says through gritted teeth. "They aren't recommended."
Yamamoto emits a sound of wonderment and he considers kicking the guy out for being extremely annoying.
"So should I get the one with bumps or the one with waves?"
"Sir, I cannot care less about--"
"Bumps!" Tsuna interjects and reddens right up to his ears. A 'ding' from the entrance follows shortly after and he turns in relief to say 'Welcome!' only to squeak in fright.
"Ah!" Yamamoto exclaims, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Hibari-san!"
"What are you doing?" Hibari deadpans and eyes the items on the counter--two liters of lemon tea, a six pack, enough cream buns to last the week, three tubs of ice cream, two convenience store dinners and the multitude of condoms.
Yamamoto laughs apologetically and Hibari raises his eyebrow.
"This is why you were taking so long?"
They all realize he's actually barely dressed.
Gokudera resists the urge to bang his head on the cashier.
Sawada-dono is a scary guy
Yamamoto sighs and unbottons his polo. "Western clothes do not suit me."
He lights a lamp and takes a yukata from the wardrobe. He puts it on in front of the mirror and looks about the eight-tatami mat room. It's one of the more lavish rooms in the okiya and he thinks Sawada-dono is a bit too generous in paying for his stay, especially since it's his first time meeting him.
He is about to enjoy a good cigar he had gotten from a Dutch trader when there is a knock on the sliding door.
"Come in," he says.
The shoji opens, flooding the immediate flooring with orange lamplight from the hallway. For a moment, he wonders why there's no one outside until he spots a person kneeling by his feet.
"I have been sent to keep you company for the evening."
Yamamoto freezes, unlighted cigar perched between his teeth. He smiles wryly and places it on the ornate dresser.
"A taikomochi? Just for me? Is this how Sawada-dono gets deals sealed with his business partners?"
The man lifts his head. His face is elegantly painted. His lips are a vibrant red and his eyes are outlined in gold. He dons a beautifully embroidered robe meant for women and the expression on his face is nothing short of livid.
Yamamoto realizes that this man is one of Sawada-dono's bodyguards and wonders what he's done wrong to earn this sort of punishment. The master must be a man one should not mess with. Sweat condenses on his neck.
"Please come in," he says and the man walks in. He hides his chuckle behind his hand. "May I know your name?"
"Hibari Kyouya," the man says and sits by the open window. Half of him is orange and half of him is blue.
They share a pregnant silence before Yamamoto says laughingly, "You are lucky I am the client for tonight. Anyone else and..." He trails off at Hibari's glare and ends up making the tea.
Someone will probably write about us
There is the steady ticking of moving bicycle wheels, the hwoosh of countryside air and the scenery they pass by--a shrine on a hill, an old man sweeping his front porch, wives chatting by a street curve, a cat under a parked car, trees far away, the sea somewhere ahead and the wide Sunday road.
The traffic enforcer by the highway yells at them for riding in tandem but they don't care.
This is rare, Yamamoto thinks and his hold on the handlebars tightens. The road is straight and there are no cars. He closes his eyes for a moment and focuses on the warmth and feel of Hibari's fingers gripping his shoulders.
They pass through a dark tunnel, cut like a neat O in the mountain and when they emerge, everything looks bigger and greener. Or they have become younger.
"Ah," says Hibari and the warmth disappears from Yamamoto's right shoulder. He tries to see what had caught the other boy's attention and watches as Hibari tries to reach the sepia sky with smallish hands.
Isn't that enough?
Scrape scrape
"I had a dream once," Yamamoto says.
Hibari's hands tighten around the hilts of his katanas and lets him speak. The tips of the swords touch the blood-drenched floor beneath their feet.
Scrape scrape
"I was attending a party at a resort house by the beach. The room was packed with people and the walls were a cream wood." Yamamoto swallows hard and eyes the mangled figures strewn about. Hibari advances toward him, panting slightly but far from spent.
Scrape scrape
"This cloaked guy wielding two katanas came in and started killing everybody." Yamamoto looks out the only window in the room and sees the moon. He presses his back against the wall. Hibari doesn't take his gaze off him.
"Everyone flew into a panic and I was running around trying to follow him. I didn't know what I wanted to do. Once the walls were covered red and everyone was dead, he turned around..."
Scrape scrape
"...and grabbed my hand. We tried to get out of the resort house as calmly as we could but the other patrons woke up and started following us. When we were near the exit, we could see this old lady waiting outside. The cloaked guy quickly killed the person immediately behind us and threw him at her. We ran out and I shouted for help. The SWAT team surrounding the building thought we were victims and let us escape."
Hibari was inches from his nose and Yamamoto smiles fondly, as if it were a memory.
"We climbed these huge rocks to get to the other side of the beach. We settled down in a shallow cave once it was too dark to see." He meets Hibari's gaze sheepishly. Blood from the ceiling drips down and makes a poignant splashing noise. "What do you think?"
"You've already been given the chance to live once," Hibari says. "Isn't that enough?"
Yamamoto's world turns black. The last thing he hears is the waves outside, crashing on the shore.
END
Category: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Characters/Pairings: Yamamoto, Hibari
Genre/Rating/Warnings: general/PG/semi-AU, character death?
Summary/Excerpt: The following are some instances in Yamamoto's and Hibari's relationship taken from different dimensions.
A/N: I...don't know what happened and how it turned out this way ^^; Also, Ching references her other fics a lot until it isn't funny anymore blog 2k11. Boop. For the yamahiba_fest. If you are looking for translations/references of foreign terms, click 'em. They're links.
Horishi-san to Oyabun and other stories
Scritch scritch
"I had a dream once," Yamamoto says.
Hibari's hand stills but he lets his client speak. His tattoo needle etches the outline of a water dragon on his back and paints it bright blue.
Scritch scritch
"I was attending a party at a resort house by the beach. The room was packed with people and the walls were a cream wood." Yamamoto's breath hitches from pain and arches slightly upward. Hibari pats the sheen of sweat off his skin with a towel and picks up another needle.
Scritch scritch
"This cloaked guy wielding two katanas came in and started killing everybody." He readjusts his position on the futon. Hibari continues drawing.
"Everyone flew into a panic and I was running around trying to follow him. I didn't know what I wanted to do. Once the walls were covered red and everyone was dead, he turned around..."
Scritch scritch
"...and slashed open my stomach."
Hibari clicks his tongue. "Don't move around so much. The needle will go deeper than I want it to."
"I died and woke up."
Scritch scritch
They finished the rest of their session in silence.
The permanent twitch under Cashier-san's left eye
"Chocolate," Yamamoto reads out loud with childlike fascination. He picks up the small square box next to it. "Strawberry...orange...banana...grape." He sniffs the purple package and puts it down with the shake of a head. "Won't jive with his taste."
Gokudera, the konbini part-timer, glares at his meticulous customer, slightly (and only ever so slightly) thankful there wasn't a line forming behind him (yet). Tsuna, his (supposed) supervisor, breaks out in a nervous sweat. His fingers twist his colorful apron in anxious knots.
Yamamoto straightens up and several boxes of condoms spill onto the counter. "Should I get the flavored ones or the ribbed ones?"
"The flavored ones contain sugar," Gokudera says through gritted teeth. "They aren't recommended."
Yamamoto emits a sound of wonderment and he considers kicking the guy out for being extremely annoying.
"So should I get the one with bumps or the one with waves?"
"Sir, I cannot care less about--"
"Bumps!" Tsuna interjects and reddens right up to his ears. A 'ding' from the entrance follows shortly after and he turns in relief to say 'Welcome!' only to squeak in fright.
"Ah!" Yamamoto exclaims, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Hibari-san!"
"What are you doing?" Hibari deadpans and eyes the items on the counter--two liters of lemon tea, a six pack, enough cream buns to last the week, three tubs of ice cream, two convenience store dinners and the multitude of condoms.
Yamamoto laughs apologetically and Hibari raises his eyebrow.
"This is why you were taking so long?"
They all realize he's actually barely dressed.
Gokudera resists the urge to bang his head on the cashier.
Sawada-dono is a scary guy
Yamamoto sighs and unbottons his polo. "Western clothes do not suit me."
He lights a lamp and takes a yukata from the wardrobe. He puts it on in front of the mirror and looks about the eight-tatami mat room. It's one of the more lavish rooms in the okiya and he thinks Sawada-dono is a bit too generous in paying for his stay, especially since it's his first time meeting him.
He is about to enjoy a good cigar he had gotten from a Dutch trader when there is a knock on the sliding door.
"Come in," he says.
The shoji opens, flooding the immediate flooring with orange lamplight from the hallway. For a moment, he wonders why there's no one outside until he spots a person kneeling by his feet.
"I have been sent to keep you company for the evening."
Yamamoto freezes, unlighted cigar perched between his teeth. He smiles wryly and places it on the ornate dresser.
"A taikomochi? Just for me? Is this how Sawada-dono gets deals sealed with his business partners?"
The man lifts his head. His face is elegantly painted. His lips are a vibrant red and his eyes are outlined in gold. He dons a beautifully embroidered robe meant for women and the expression on his face is nothing short of livid.
Yamamoto realizes that this man is one of Sawada-dono's bodyguards and wonders what he's done wrong to earn this sort of punishment. The master must be a man one should not mess with. Sweat condenses on his neck.
"Please come in," he says and the man walks in. He hides his chuckle behind his hand. "May I know your name?"
"Hibari Kyouya," the man says and sits by the open window. Half of him is orange and half of him is blue.
They share a pregnant silence before Yamamoto says laughingly, "You are lucky I am the client for tonight. Anyone else and..." He trails off at Hibari's glare and ends up making the tea.
Someone will probably write about us
There is the steady ticking of moving bicycle wheels, the hwoosh of countryside air and the scenery they pass by--a shrine on a hill, an old man sweeping his front porch, wives chatting by a street curve, a cat under a parked car, trees far away, the sea somewhere ahead and the wide Sunday road.
The traffic enforcer by the highway yells at them for riding in tandem but they don't care.
This is rare, Yamamoto thinks and his hold on the handlebars tightens. The road is straight and there are no cars. He closes his eyes for a moment and focuses on the warmth and feel of Hibari's fingers gripping his shoulders.
They pass through a dark tunnel, cut like a neat O in the mountain and when they emerge, everything looks bigger and greener. Or they have become younger.
"Ah," says Hibari and the warmth disappears from Yamamoto's right shoulder. He tries to see what had caught the other boy's attention and watches as Hibari tries to reach the sepia sky with smallish hands.
Isn't that enough?
Scrape scrape
"I had a dream once," Yamamoto says.
Hibari's hands tighten around the hilts of his katanas and lets him speak. The tips of the swords touch the blood-drenched floor beneath their feet.
Scrape scrape
"I was attending a party at a resort house by the beach. The room was packed with people and the walls were a cream wood." Yamamoto swallows hard and eyes the mangled figures strewn about. Hibari advances toward him, panting slightly but far from spent.
Scrape scrape
"This cloaked guy wielding two katanas came in and started killing everybody." Yamamoto looks out the only window in the room and sees the moon. He presses his back against the wall. Hibari doesn't take his gaze off him.
"Everyone flew into a panic and I was running around trying to follow him. I didn't know what I wanted to do. Once the walls were covered red and everyone was dead, he turned around..."
Scrape scrape
"...and grabbed my hand. We tried to get out of the resort house as calmly as we could but the other patrons woke up and started following us. When we were near the exit, we could see this old lady waiting outside. The cloaked guy quickly killed the person immediately behind us and threw him at her. We ran out and I shouted for help. The SWAT team surrounding the building thought we were victims and let us escape."
Hibari was inches from his nose and Yamamoto smiles fondly, as if it were a memory.
"We climbed these huge rocks to get to the other side of the beach. We settled down in a shallow cave once it was too dark to see." He meets Hibari's gaze sheepishly. Blood from the ceiling drips down and makes a poignant splashing noise. "What do you think?"
"You've already been given the chance to live once," Hibari says. "Isn't that enough?"
Yamamoto's world turns black. The last thing he hears is the waves outside, crashing on the shore.
END