[KHR!] Drunk with his own light
Title: Drunk with his own light
Series: 50scenes Prompt Table No.1 (042-Dark eyes, 049-Fortune, 045-Ignored, 037-Turbulence, 005-Glass, 041-Embrace, 033-Wish, 012-Silence, 002-Love, 021-Psychotic, 010-Writer’s Choice: Discern // Separated by sub-headings)
Author: Kanon
Genre: General/Angst
Rating: PG
Character: 80-centric, mainly with 18 and 27, cameo from other Vongola members.
Disclaimer: Me owns no mafia, no rings, no money; nothing but the perversity of a fangirl. Title & subheadings from 31_days
Summary: Yamamoto’s smile has changed.
Timeline: Sometime before the Future Arc
Spoilers: Future Arc, all the way to manga Chapter 219 - NOT ANIMATED YET!
Warning: Eh… long? Over 6K words.
Author’s Note:
…Originally, it was supposed to be 1880 and the idea was something else. Then while struggling to get back to writing after months of no articulation, it became something completely different and very much focused on Mocchan somehow O_O;;;
:::::Drunken with his own light by Kanon:::::
Glorious eyes that smile and burn
For some reason, Yamamoto’s smile boasts complete immunity to the gore and chaos of the mafia life.
Tsuna is truly glad for it because it is one of the few things that brightens his radically changed life, although at times, he watches the nonchalant smile with cautious concern in his huge brown eyes. Gokudera, being the difficult man that he is, will never admit it but Yamamoto understands when his scowling friend barges into his room at the end of a particularly long and hard day. The teenage Lambo has taken great liking to the exuberant merriment that always tingles the air around the Rain Guardian the same way that the rain makes the air hum, taking refugee behind the tall man whenever the training becomes something close to torture. Ryohei cannot ask for any better training partner, their sportsman blood still hot and thick in their veins. Chrome frequently gathers enough courage to visit Yamamoto who is one of few who can take Chikusa and Ken - more of the latter - without hurtling down the highway to destruction or bursting into tears, and sits with her hands on her lap, taking comfort in the welcoming laughter that asks nothing and accepts everything.
No one would know what Hibari thinks of Yamamoto’s impervious cheerfulness but the Foundation leader is another one that has not changed since their first encounter in the Namimori Middle School, so if the past is anything to go by, he probably does not care one way or the other as long as it does not disrupt the discipline.
But sometimes, in those rare occasions that the elusive Guardian is prowling the Vongola HQ, Yamamoto catches the cold charcoal eyes directed at him, silent, indifferent, but definitely watching him. The deadpan face does not even so much as twitch when he meets the gaze unabashedly and blinks back with a new smile even before the trace of the last one has disappeared. He cannot read the aloof stare - or maybe there is nothing to read in the first place - and wonders if he’s being glared at, but this is Hibari Kyoya who looks at the entire world - except Namimori - in a detached glare half the time anyway.
Then Yamamoto’s smile is needed elsewhere, to reassure Tsuna that he doesn’t mind taking another mission, to laugh off all the jibes from Gokudera, to dodge the extreme jab from Ryohei who is fired up as always, to pat Lambo’s head who sports another new colourful set of bruises, and to interject between Ken and Chrome before he bares his fangs at her - literally - even though he knows there’s no need. By the time he looks up, the Cloud Guardian is nowhere to be seen, having already taken another free flight to the sky.
So one day, when Yamamoto finds Hibari hidden in the shadow of the wall between the huge windows, he decides to leave Lambo to the mercy of Reborn’s wrath - he scampered from his training - and crosses the meeting hall.
“Hibari, I’ve got something to ask.”
Hibari shifts his eyes from the yellow fluff perched on his shoulder, the glide of the gaze smooth and elegant like cloud, and again, Yamamoto feels like a test subject in an experiment unknown to him.
“You’ve been watching me, right?”
Yamamoto does not beat around the bush and for a short moment, the carnivorous gleam morphs into amusement as if appreciating the bold move from the crowd-gathering herbivore.
“And what if I have?”
Yamamoto shrugs casually and Gokudera who has been unfortunate enough to be nearby almost drops his half-burnt cigarette, the wide green eyes screaming, what the fuck. Either he’s missed something - something really, really big - or these two are clueless about something called innuendos more than he had thought possible.
“Just wondering why. I haven’t got anything on my face, have I?”
Hibari stays silent, a sneer faint on his lips. Yamamoto takes it as no and moves to stand next to the Foundation leader. At the corner of his eyes, he sees Gokudera eyeing them with apprehension as if they have turned radioactive and he’s not entirely sure why.
“What interests you so much?”
“Simple observation,” Hibari drawls lazily, patting the little avian as he hides a wide yawn behind the other hand.
“You’re really getting into the whole research stuff, aren’t you?” Yamamoto chuckles merrily, curiosity filling the excited olive eyes. “Of what?”
To Gokudera, the Rain Guardian looks like a five years old kid trying to guess his birthday present and in an effort not to scream some sense in that baseball-sized brain, he accidentally bites through the filter of his cigarette.
Sometimes, he seriously, genuinely, sincerely hates Yamamoto.
Then, just as he hopes, against all odds, that Hibari is a tad more sensible than the idiot, he hears Hibird chirping, “Yamamoto! Yamamoto! Hibari! Watching Yamamoto!”
Gokudera feels a migraine coming on. Yamamoto laughs loudly, following the bird with his eyes as it flies around his head, and Hibari is looking just as bored and vicious as he had been before the conversation that he really could have done without.
“So, Hibari,” Yamamoto starts and Gokudera leaves, his hand running on auto mode in search for another cigarette. He’s already strung high as it is, anxious about what’s to come in the abruptly called meeting, and if he wants to be in the right mind in amidst the bunch of retards that are his fellow Guardians - Ryohei screams ‘extreme!’ just at that moment -, he’s going to need double the dose of his usual migraine meds.
Collapse into me tired with joy
The next time Yamamoto meets Hibari again is in a pitch-black corridor of the incomplete underground hideout at the dead of the night. Yamamoto has barely managed to make it to the empty building, his suit suffocating under a thick layer of filth and blood, enemies’ and his alike. The new rings that Tsuna gave the Guardians are the best A class there are but they are no match to the now destroyed Vongola rings and on top of it, the mission has gone just a little awry.
He can just about to drag his feet forward and the tip of his new katana screeches faintly, drawing an ugly line on the otherwise pristine floor. His breathing comes in tight gasps, blood slugging over his eyes, and in the haze of pain and adrenaline rush, he tries to remember the blueprint he had seen over Tsuna’s shoulder, looking for the medical room. He is thankful that the little guy taught him more than just the fighting skills because despite the flood of crimson streams down his body, he probably can patch himself up enough to make his way again to the Vongola HQ after some rest. But that is if he can get his hands on some first-aid before he passes out and he chuckles wearily when he makes out the label ‘Training Room’ on the door; the task is turning out to be harder than he thought.
“Oh, well,” he murmurs into the darkness and starts to move to the next door, only to trip over in the sudden wave of fatigue. The katana rings shrilly as it falls out of his loose grip and the instinctive fight to save himself from the stumble ends up sending his already exhausted muscles into violent spasm. For god knows how long, Yamamoto cannot gather himself up, coughing his lungs out, yet in between, he manages to smile dimly. To tell the truth, he’s not completely aware of it, the expression so natural and innate. But the contraction of the facial muscles is vaguely registered and he can almost hear Gokudera barking just what he finds so amusing. At least he’s not bringing up any blood; that’s a good sign, right?
But the scent is already thick in the air and when the hacking finally ceases, he pushes himself up and lightly conks the back of his head on the wall. Sitting alone in the lightless corridor, dirty and so damn tired, Yamamoto laughs quietly to himself. He cannot quite define the reason for his laughter but what’s the reason not to? No one’s going to smack him for it, after all.
The soft chuckles echo eerily in the emptiness, chasing after the earlier ones of the metal clangs. Once it subsides, Yamamoto takes a deep breath to calm down the irritated lungs and gathers the last of his energy. Sleep sounds blissful and his eyelids feel like lead but really, he’d prefer something that has a bit more cushion than the concrete floor. So, he picks up the fallen katana and shuffles forward again, each step more precarious than the last. This kinda sucks, Yamamoto blearily thinks, a weak grin still curving the unfocused eyes. Then just as he turns around the corner, his luck changes.
“Yamamoto Takeshi. What are you doing here?”
The low voice sounds muffled and distant although the person speaking is right in front of him and it takes some time before his hazy brain connects the two dots.
“Ah, Hibari.”
Behind the Cloud Guardian is a thin stream of light, creating a snowy path on the black floor. Yamamoto chuckles at the blood he finally sees coating the area around his feet; Gokudera is going to throw a fit when he finds out.
“What are you doing here?” Hibari asks again apathetically, his hands firmly at his sides. Yamamoto merely blinks for a second and it takes him another few seconds to articulate before grinning widely.
“Sur… prise,” he manages to mutter an ambiguous answer before his body finally gives out and falls onto the Cloud Guardian. The tall frame seems to engulf Hibari for a second but it soon starts to slide down, leaving behind a trail of dark red on the violet shirt. The unimpressed eyes follow the crumbling until something catches them and Hibari tilts his head a little.
The little upward turn of Yamamoto’s lips.
Not a second later, Hibari turns around and leaves.
But if I try to find you there are only the shadows
When Yamamoto opens his eyes again, he is back at the Vongola HQ, all his wounds tended to by the hands of professionals. His friends come to see him the moment they hear of the news and Yamamoto greets them with hearty laugh. Unsurprisingly, it ticks off Gokudera and Tsuna has to desperately hold him back so Yamamoto doesn’t get put into another coma so soon. Later when they inquire about how Kusakabe came across him, Yamamoto blinks then grins enigmatically. Instead, he asks if they have seen Hibari. Tsuna shakes his head and Yamamoto guffaws as if that makes everything perfect. Tsuna smiles anyway even though he’s a bit perplexed at the response. A step behind him, Gokudera eyes the swordsman in silence, his lips thinned in a tight line.
And by dark arts cast a light
A few weeks later, they discover Hibari’s whereabouts; and Reborn’s death. Tsuna spends the day by himself in his room. Gokudera spends the hours stalking his boss’ office and instructing the investigation on the demise that should have been impossible. It’s not just a death of the world’s best hitman but a signal for a new, cruel and blood-splattered era. That evening, Ryohei takes the girls away and Yamamoto stays with the children.
“Yamamoto-san,” I-Pin asks after a series of questions that the Rain Guardian could not quite answer all except saying that it will be okay, “are you not sad?”
“Huh?”
“Yamamoto-san,” I-Pin says again, looking up with red puffy eyes, and gently lays her small hand on Yamamoto’s face, “you’re smiling.”
Yamamoto blinks at the warm touch and the worried gaze of the young girl. Lambo also stops sniffing and stares at his favourite Guardian. After a moment, Yamamoto does the only thing he can think of; he laughs albeit subdued.
“Yamamoto-san?”
“It’s going to be okay, I-Pin,” Yamamoto says, patting both of their heads on either of his shoulders, and Lambo and I-Pin look at each other before nodding. Perhaps it’s just one of those adult things that they can’t understand yet and they’ve got enough to worry about already.
For tonight, they are fugitives from the tempestuous world and the curtain of tranquil rain will keep them safe.
I should tell you, I’m disaster
Later that day, when the two have finally fallen asleep, Yamamoto spreads a soft blanket over them and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. When he turns around, he sees his reflection on the window, wearing the habitual smile that he had not even been aware of.
I-Pin’s earlier words echo in his mind and slowly, Yamamoto traces the curl of his lips with his fingers, all the while examining his other self. For the first time, he asks the question that Gokudera had snarled countless times; why was he smiling?
“Feeling narcissistic?” the smooth voice rings out in the otherwise empty corridor and Yamamoto knows who it is just by the feeling of the approaching presence.
“Yo, Hibari.”
Hibari looks mildly surprised and somewhat amused at the smile Yamamoto flashes. Yamamoto, for the first time, averts his eyes, back to the image of himself.
“Not mourning like those herbivores?”
Yamamoto chuckles ruefully, the merriment marred with confusion.
“I am.”
“By smiling?”
Yamamoto doesn’t reply; he doesn’t know what to say. Hibari looks at the crescents of hollow olives and without a word, walks past him. Yamamoto stays, blankly staring at his reflection, wondering why he is making that face.
Why he can’t make the face he thinks he should be wearing. And then, if he even knows how to.
It’s much, much later that Yamamoto recalls the direction Hibari had headed to that night; Tsuna’s office.
What hope shall we cherish, what pure premonition
Since then, Yamamoto notices Tsuna of all people watching him in the gaze that reminds him of Hibari. When he inquires about it, asking if he’s got anything on his face, Tsuna just smiles and shakes his head, his large eyes thoughtful and apologetic for some unknown reason.
The day Yamamoto finds his father dead in Takesushi, the fond place destroyed and reeking of death, Tsuna cancels all his schedule and stays with him. Yamamoto tells him there’s no need because he does know more than he appears to and the mafia world is edging towards a pandemonium every day, but Tsuna is strangely stubborn. Rather, Tsuna watches his Rain Guardian with a complicated face; Yamamoto is yet to shed a single tear since he had held the bloodied corpse of his father in his arms. What he sports instead is a weary grin but Tsuna is fairly sure that his friend is oblivious to it.
“I’m sorry, Yamamoto,” Tsuna whispers when they return to Yamamoto’s room after the burial and Yamamoto shakes his head almost reflexively, having heard the same phrase so many times already from various people.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Not just that,” Tsuna says and for the first time in their long friendship, he hugs his friend and Guardian tightly despite the height difference which has not decreased at all over the past years. Yamamoto blinks before chuckling lightly, wrapping his arms around the small frame and returning the warm embrace.
“Tsuna?”
“Yamamoto,” Tsuna murmurs, “I’m sorry I hadn’t realised it sooner. I’m sorry I had let it get to this point that you don’t know how to stop smiling even in times like this.”
Surprised, Yamamoto tries to pull away but the lean arms locked around him are deceiving in their power and he has no choice but to remain in the first embrace from the boss he had followed since the old days of the middle school.
“What are you talking about, Tsuna? You didn’t do anything wrong. You never have.”
Tsuna finally unwraps his arms and takes a step back, a rueful smile faint on his face, and Yamamoto cocks his head in puzzlement. In his mind, the brief conversation with Hibari is in replay and Yamamoto struggles to define the unknown weight that pains his heart a little. Then much like the way I-Pin had once done, Tsuna places his hand on Yamamoto’s face.
“Yamamoto, you’re the Rain Guardian who washes all away. Even before that, you always took away any fear and uncertainties I had by simply being you,” says Tsuna, chuckling at the nostalgic memories brimming with Yamamoto’s quirks that used to throw him sideways. Yamamoto has a lot of things he wants to say, like how it’s Tsuna who is the amazing one and how he is just doing his best to protect his precious friend, but for now, he stays quiet because he can feel that whatever Tsuna has to say, he has been thinking about it for a long time.
“But despite my promise to protect you guys, it seems I took your kind heart for granted. We all thought it was nothing strange that you beamed at us and laughed no matter what happened. I never thought that the calmness we got from you was at this kind of price.”
By now, Yamamoto has officially lost Tsuna and it must have shown on his face because Tsuna chuckles sympathetically before patting his shoulder, this time, his expression that of the Vongola Decimo rather than the dame-Tsuna Yamamoto has grown up with.
“Yamamoto, it’s impossible for me but that person will break the chain you so selflessly shackled on yourself. It might not be very pleasant. In fact, it might be anything but that. Afterwards, you might no longer be smiling as radiantly as you do now.”
Tsuna pauses for a moment, the brown eyes softening back as they examine his first ever friend. He still remembers the hand that Yamamoto had so cordially offered when he had been rejected by everyone and the true carefree grin that had calmed him more often that he can count since then.
“Tsuna?”
“But you know… even if you end up smiling less, I think I’d be happier to see you freely acknowledging what you feel rather than feel obligated to laugh so much that you can’t even recognise your own emotions.”
Tsuna watches the thorough bafflement on Yamamoto’s face with slight amusement though it’s short-lived. Despite the famous Vongola hyperintuition, he has somehow missed the subtle shift in his closest friend from a breezy and exuberant teenager to a Guardian so loyal and protective that even Yamamoto himself had not noticed how fiercely he stuck to his role in the familigia. Though the sincerity of their friendship is well-known, Tsuna is one of the handfuls who knows that Yamamoto’s devotion for the Vongola and his friends easily rivals that of his infamous right-hand man. Now, with what little time he’s got left, all he can hope for is that he’s not too late and that he has made the right decision.
“Tsuna…” Yamamoto trails off and scratches the back of his head before sheepishly smiling. “I’m sorry but I don’t get what you’re talking about.”
Tsuna smiles as if to say he understands and hugs Yamamoto one more time.
“That’s okay. I feel bad for trying to break what everyone loves so much but I’m sure they will understand. And I believe in you. You will still be Yamamoto Takeshi, no matter what happens.”
And with those words that puzzle Yamamoto even further, Tsuna lets go of his friend and speaks no more of it as if it has never been brought up. The rest of the day is spent talking about their old days and when Gokudera comes over, grumbling that all he was looking for was just the Tenth, they drag him down too despite his protests. Soon, Ryohei joins them and the sparks are instantly flying between him and Gokudera. The usual insults are thick in the air as the two start brandishing even their boxes and Tsuna smiles awkwardly just like he used to back in the school days, trying to stop them from demolishing Yamamoto’s room.
Gokudera’s box gets opened anyway though accidental and out of all things, Uri jumps out, latching onto its owner’s face. By the time Gokudera manages to disentangle himself from the vicious kitten, Yamamoto is barely sitting upright on his bed, having stitches at his friends’ antics. Tsuna’s words still ring in his head but for now, he laughs right out of his heart, very much aware of the guffaws escaping him. If there is one thing he wishes for at that moment, it’s not to lose any of his beloveds anymore so that this time of pure merriment will last just a little longer; so that Tsuna won’t have to worry about his incongruous smile, so that he won’t have to try to solve the riddle.
Because vaguely, his instincts tell him that it might not be too far from a Pandora’s box.
Unfinished lullaby
Later that night, when everyone has fallen asleep, Tsuna quietly slips out and makes a phone call, his resolute eyes on the thin slice of silver in the black sky. As the acrid ringtone starts, Tsuna sighs quietly. There are so many things that need to be fixed in this world with so many unknown factors. The only thing he knows for sure is that once tomorrow comes, everything will change, be it something as grand as the fate of the Vongola or something as personal as the permanent smile on his dear Rain Guardian.
When the ringtone dies and silence fills his ear, Tsuna glances back to the door he has just come through, behind which his most treasured of the family - not familigia but family - slumber, and determination dyes the caramel eyes with a hint of orange.
“Hibari-san,” Tsuna’s quiet but firm voice whispers just loud enough for the other to hear, “tomorrow is the day. I leave everything to your hands.”
Hibari hangs up without a word. Tsuna smiles, knowing that the Cloud Guardian will be here to take care of the mess he is sure to leave behind.
Every paradise is lost
Yamamoto cannot quite believe that he is standing in front of a coffin again so soon. Next to him, Gokudera, the only one who had accompanied Tsuna to the meeting with the Millefiore, is barely standing upright even with Bianchi’s support; it’s a miracle that he has managed to even get out of bed, let alone arrange everything of the funeral with the battered body of his. Lambo is sniffing as quietly as he could behind him and Ryohei pats the teen’s head. Chrome just hugs her trident closer to her chest, hunched as usual between Ken and Chikusa and looking determined about something.
The Vongola Guardians are only a few of the massive black crowd that has gathered around the glistening coffin, a golden Vongola emblem resting majestically on its lid. Despite the sheer number of people present, complete silence reigns over the clearing save the quiet words the priest mumbles. At some point, even Lambo’s sniffing dies out; or perhaps he simply does not hear them anymore. His mind numb and his ears ringing with silence, Yamamoto’s blank eyes are inevitably drawn to the symbol that represents everything he stands for; the symbol that his friend and boss has died for.
He’s not quite sure how it has come to this and Gokudera has been in no state to talk about it either, constantly passing out from his injuries and powerful analgesics, only to come around and drag himself back to organising the last event of his boss’ life.
Just as the priest comes to an end of his prayer and everyone murmurs ‘Amen’, a black car glides in without a sound and pulls to a stop though no one gets out. Yamamoto glances at the late arrival and the little turn of his head catches Dino’s attention from the other side of the coffin. Dino’s eyes widen slightly when their eyes meet and for some reason, the first thing Yamamoto recalls is his late friend’s words, the regretful voice ringing clear as if Tsuna is right next to him.
‘I’m sorry I had let it get to this point that you don’t know how to stop smiling even in times like this.’
Suddenly, Yamamoto feels sick and horridness starts to knot his gut but the blonde then smiles. Yamamoto nearly flinches though because it’s the same kind of one he had seen on Tsuna that same night. Unaware of it, Dino jerks his head towards the car and nods, exasperation flitting across his face faster than a flash, and Yamamoto nods back, ignoring the dreadful sensation of the blood draining from his face; the last of the Vongola Guardians has finally arrived.
An operatic tragedy
‘Hibari-san, could I ask you for one more thing?’
‘Sawada Tsunayoshi, I’m not one of your herbivores for you to order around as you please.’
‘I understand, Hibari-san. But I believe it’s a matter you’re somewhat interested in as well.’
‘…’
‘…When the time comes… please break Yamamoto’s smile.’
‘Do it yourself.’
‘I can’t. None of us can even if others realise it. We all love Yamamoto’s exuberance too much to shatter it with our own hands even if we know it’s for his sake.’
‘It’s none of my business.’
‘Hibari-san, I don’t know what kind of oddity you have noticed from him but whatever it is, you’re the only one who’s aware of it apart from myself. Isn’t that why you’ve been watching him?’
‘Remember who you’re talking to and what you’re asking for. He’s a foolish wolf wearing a sheep’s skin and I will kill him without hesitation if he’s not worth it.’
‘Yamamoto has changed, Hibari-san, without even himself realising it, but he hasn’t weakened.’
‘I wonder.’
‘There will come a time when all it requires is just a little push but it’s not the kind that any of the other Guardians can give. I will do my part before I face my end. Hibari-san, could I please ask you to carry out the last step?’
‘I will do what I please.’
‘Thank you.’
One pierced moment whiter than the rest
Yamamoto can no longer tell what kind of face he is making. The few prior experiences tell him that he has never been good at it anyway but huffing and tripping in the heavy tsunami of all the unleashed emotions that he had neglected obliviously, he’s not even sure if he’s crying or screaming in anger.
But there is no time to tame it or slash it down. In his ears rings the sharp metal clangs constantly as his katana parries the merciless blows of the tonfas and Hibari is at the peak of his natural lethality, the agile fighter dancing in a fatal rhythm he is all too used to.
“Hibari… Hibari!! Hibari, stop!!”
“I said I will pry open the real you, Yamamoto Takeshi,” is the only response he gets from the Cloud Guardian who pivots so gracefully and so quickly, the power of the turn delivered straight to him through the tonfa.
Yamamoto cannot understand. All he knows is that at some point during the funeral, his stomach was doing somersaults and his gut was twisting, the pulse growing faster and harder as if something was thrashing to get out. Perhaps it’s the reaction he saw from Dino when their eyes met. Perhaps it’s Tsuna’s words he recalled. Or perhaps, it had already begun when I-Pin had laid her hand on his face. All he knows is that at some point after the funeral, everyone had left, the rain had started, and someone else had arrived at his side; Hibari Kyoya.
‘Still smiling, Yamamoto Takeshi?’
The next second, his katana is thrown at his feet and the tonfas are blazing through the air, Hibari whispering ‘I’ll rip that herbivore skin off you,’ in a tone that sends a chill down his spine; amused, determined, sadistic, predatory.
And the flurry of attack has rattled the bars of cage inside him that Yamamoto has not even been aware of and the beasts that are the sadness, the pain, the regret, the tears that had been ignored from their birth are eager to be released. Every hit of the tonfa, every parry of his katana, is a key unlocking the Pandora’s box and Yamamoto is getting desperate as his brain feels like erupting with the sudden overload of the intense emotions. In the body of a grown-up man, Yamamoto finds a small, helpless child of himself, scared and lost in the roaring flood of darkness from within.
“Hibari… please, stop,” Yamamoto manages to grit out between the clenched teeth, his voice shaky and weak. The sneer adorning Hibari’s face tells him that the other has heard him, but that does not change anything in the brutal swings and now, Yamamoto is confused, exhausted, angry, sad, and millions of other things that he is yet to learn the names of. At the back of his stormy mind, he vaguely wonders why it’s now out of all times that Hibari is cornering him like a ravenous predator.
The tonfa meets the katana with a shrill and Hibari licks the raindrops off his lips as all the trace of what had once made the man in front of him Yamamoto disappear. The swordsman’s lips are bruised and bleeding, thinned in a tight line, the facial muscles are stiff and tense, and the olive eyes at last shed a tear that was due far too long ago as frustration and weariness finally finds their way out.
“Please,” Yamamoto murmurs, the katana falling onto the wet grass helplessly. The owner follows it, the broken face hanging low, and Hibari stares down at the gasping Rain Guardian indifferently.
“You’re a foolish wolf who tried to wear a sheep’s skin, Yamamoto Takeshi.”
Yamamoto cannot even turn his face upwards, his chest caught in a vice grip and his heart bleeding crimson tears. There’s a heavy weight dragging his gut down and adrenaline is exciting the nerves all in a wrong way as the level of every hormone in his body shoots through the roof.
“What do you want from me, Hibari? This is who I am, I’m not a wolf in a sheep’s skin or a herbivore or anything. I’m just Yamamoto Takeshi, the Rain Guardian of the Vongola Familigia!!”
It’s when Hibari merely frowns that Yamamoto realises he has started screaming halfway through. Yamamoto sighs in defeat, his mind too out of control to even consider apologising. Moreover, something tells him that it’s not what the enigmatic man wants to hear anyway.
Yamamoto doesn’t make to move even as he sees Hibari bending down and a tonfa sneaks in under his chin. When it lifts his face up, Hibari is a mere inch away from him, not a breath out of the calm rhythm.
“Why do you smile, Yamamoto Takeshi?”
“Am I?”
Hibari lifts an eyebrow before smirking.
“Why did you used to smile?”
“Why not?”
The tonfa under his chin connects with his right jaw in a flash with enough force to send him flying for a fair distance. Hibari catches up in leisurely strides like a big cat toying with its prey and Yamamoto does nothing but blinking at the crying sky, his body feeling too small for whatever crazy tempest it is that Hibari has unleashed in him. Suddenly, Hibird appears out of nowhere and chirps; “Yamamoto! Crying? Crying?”
Yamamoto buries his face in his hands, ignoring the far too clever avian. Hibari can hear the raspy breathing, hitched and out of control, as the rain washes away the blood on the Rain Guardian’s lips. They open and close a few times before Yamamoto manages to push some words through.
“Hibari, why are you doing this?”
The question sounds half-resentful and half-resigned, a tone never heard from the Rain Guardian and Hibari plants his foot on the heaving chest. The mud on the black shoe leaves a dark footprint on the blue shirt the same way Yamamoto had once left a crimson tail on Hibari.
“Because I feel like it.”
“Why else, huh.”
There’s no hint of amusement in the broken voice and Yamamoto folds his arms over his face, blocking it completely out of Hibari’s view. The momentary silence is but short-lived, soon broken by a shaky, desperate, and sobbing voice of the once perpetually grinning Yamamoto.
“Hibari, Hibari, Hibari, Hibari…”
“Shut up,” The Cloud Guardian cuts off the pitiful call without mercy but it continues as if Yamamoto did not hear it. Irritation mars the pokerface for a second before the pressure on Yamamoto’s chest grows uncomfortably. The trembling voice still doesn’t stop and Hibari returns his tonfas back to the purple box, disappointment darkening the black eyes.
“Are you just a herbivore after all?” he mutters disdainfully and turns to leave. As the soggy weight lifts from his chest, Yamamoto’s shoulders shake violently and the hands curl into the pale tight fists. When Hibari is about halfway across the clearing, he hears the loud howl from behind him, full of too many different anguish released from the chain of the oblivious smile at last. Hibari does not look back and walks on, only to come to face to face with the Sun Guardian.
“Yamamoto, Gokudera’s out again… Hibari? Shit, Yamamoto?!”
Ryohei is shocked at the unexpected scene in front of him. The alliance families are holding a meeting and with the most obvious representative of the Vongola out of commission, he had figured that he and Yamamoto together wouldn’t do too bad a job but what he now sees is the Rain Guardian utterly and completely snapped and soaked Hibari whose presence is the explanation itself to all.
“Yamamoto! Hibari, what the hell have you done?!”
Hibari looks at Ryohei dryly then walks away, throwing a single word in the rain.
“Freeing.”
The past is another land
For two full days, Yamamoto disappears off their radar and the aftermath is clear in every step of the Storm Guardian who stomps around the base harder than necessary despite the wounds. When the man in question finally appears and falls right into his arms in exhaustion, mumbling an apology that he had needed some time, Gokudera smacks the idiot as hard as his healing body allows.
“Ahahaha… Sorry, Gokudera. How are you feeling?”
“Damnit, you’re way too late with that question, you idiot!”
Then Yamamoto looks up and smiles at him and everything suddenly clicks in place for Gokudera, right from the unusual interest Hibari had shown in Yamamoto to the late Tenth’s frequent sighs every time Yamamoto had left and then the fight after the Tenth’s funeral he had heard from Ryohei; because this Yamamoto is not the same baseball nut he has grown up with and will never be again, but it’s still Yamamoto Takeshi, the Rain Guardian of the Vongola Tenth.
“You fucking retard,” Gokudera growls with no genuine hatred and the softly smiling olive eyes say that they understand, just like they have always done yet so different in a million ways. After dragging the idiot all the way back to his room himself, Gokudera returns to his own room and opens the small safe in his closet. A black velvet box rests inside and when Gokudera opens it, it reveals a silver ring with a beautiful purple gem, obviously a class A Cloud Ring. The normally scowling face pacified, Gokudera stares at it for a moment before pocketing the box and calls Kusakabe on his phone.
He finally understands the short line that was written on the paper in the ring box in the Tenth’s handwriting; ‘Both you and him will know what it’s for when the time comes.’
Series: 50scenes Prompt Table No.1 (042-Dark eyes, 049-Fortune, 045-Ignored, 037-Turbulence, 005-Glass, 041-Embrace, 033-Wish, 012-Silence, 002-Love, 021-Psychotic, 010-Writer’s Choice: Discern // Separated by sub-headings)
Author: Kanon
Genre: General/Angst
Rating: PG
Character: 80-centric, mainly with 18 and 27, cameo from other Vongola members.
Disclaimer: Me owns no mafia, no rings, no money; nothing but the perversity of a fangirl. Title & subheadings from 31_days
Summary: Yamamoto’s smile has changed.
Timeline: Sometime before the Future Arc
Spoilers: Future Arc, all the way to manga Chapter 219 - NOT ANIMATED YET!
Warning: Eh… long? Over 6K words.
Author’s Note:
…Originally, it was supposed to be 1880 and the idea was something else. Then while struggling to get back to writing after months of no articulation, it became something completely different and very much focused on Mocchan somehow O_O;;;
:::::Drunken with his own light by Kanon:::::
Glorious eyes that smile and burn
For some reason, Yamamoto’s smile boasts complete immunity to the gore and chaos of the mafia life.
Tsuna is truly glad for it because it is one of the few things that brightens his radically changed life, although at times, he watches the nonchalant smile with cautious concern in his huge brown eyes. Gokudera, being the difficult man that he is, will never admit it but Yamamoto understands when his scowling friend barges into his room at the end of a particularly long and hard day. The teenage Lambo has taken great liking to the exuberant merriment that always tingles the air around the Rain Guardian the same way that the rain makes the air hum, taking refugee behind the tall man whenever the training becomes something close to torture. Ryohei cannot ask for any better training partner, their sportsman blood still hot and thick in their veins. Chrome frequently gathers enough courage to visit Yamamoto who is one of few who can take Chikusa and Ken - more of the latter - without hurtling down the highway to destruction or bursting into tears, and sits with her hands on her lap, taking comfort in the welcoming laughter that asks nothing and accepts everything.
No one would know what Hibari thinks of Yamamoto’s impervious cheerfulness but the Foundation leader is another one that has not changed since their first encounter in the Namimori Middle School, so if the past is anything to go by, he probably does not care one way or the other as long as it does not disrupt the discipline.
But sometimes, in those rare occasions that the elusive Guardian is prowling the Vongola HQ, Yamamoto catches the cold charcoal eyes directed at him, silent, indifferent, but definitely watching him. The deadpan face does not even so much as twitch when he meets the gaze unabashedly and blinks back with a new smile even before the trace of the last one has disappeared. He cannot read the aloof stare - or maybe there is nothing to read in the first place - and wonders if he’s being glared at, but this is Hibari Kyoya who looks at the entire world - except Namimori - in a detached glare half the time anyway.
Then Yamamoto’s smile is needed elsewhere, to reassure Tsuna that he doesn’t mind taking another mission, to laugh off all the jibes from Gokudera, to dodge the extreme jab from Ryohei who is fired up as always, to pat Lambo’s head who sports another new colourful set of bruises, and to interject between Ken and Chrome before he bares his fangs at her - literally - even though he knows there’s no need. By the time he looks up, the Cloud Guardian is nowhere to be seen, having already taken another free flight to the sky.
So one day, when Yamamoto finds Hibari hidden in the shadow of the wall between the huge windows, he decides to leave Lambo to the mercy of Reborn’s wrath - he scampered from his training - and crosses the meeting hall.
“Hibari, I’ve got something to ask.”
Hibari shifts his eyes from the yellow fluff perched on his shoulder, the glide of the gaze smooth and elegant like cloud, and again, Yamamoto feels like a test subject in an experiment unknown to him.
“You’ve been watching me, right?”
Yamamoto does not beat around the bush and for a short moment, the carnivorous gleam morphs into amusement as if appreciating the bold move from the crowd-gathering herbivore.
“And what if I have?”
Yamamoto shrugs casually and Gokudera who has been unfortunate enough to be nearby almost drops his half-burnt cigarette, the wide green eyes screaming, what the fuck. Either he’s missed something - something really, really big - or these two are clueless about something called innuendos more than he had thought possible.
“Just wondering why. I haven’t got anything on my face, have I?”
Hibari stays silent, a sneer faint on his lips. Yamamoto takes it as no and moves to stand next to the Foundation leader. At the corner of his eyes, he sees Gokudera eyeing them with apprehension as if they have turned radioactive and he’s not entirely sure why.
“What interests you so much?”
“Simple observation,” Hibari drawls lazily, patting the little avian as he hides a wide yawn behind the other hand.
“You’re really getting into the whole research stuff, aren’t you?” Yamamoto chuckles merrily, curiosity filling the excited olive eyes. “Of what?”
To Gokudera, the Rain Guardian looks like a five years old kid trying to guess his birthday present and in an effort not to scream some sense in that baseball-sized brain, he accidentally bites through the filter of his cigarette.
Sometimes, he seriously, genuinely, sincerely hates Yamamoto.
Then, just as he hopes, against all odds, that Hibari is a tad more sensible than the idiot, he hears Hibird chirping, “Yamamoto! Yamamoto! Hibari! Watching Yamamoto!”
Gokudera feels a migraine coming on. Yamamoto laughs loudly, following the bird with his eyes as it flies around his head, and Hibari is looking just as bored and vicious as he had been before the conversation that he really could have done without.
“So, Hibari,” Yamamoto starts and Gokudera leaves, his hand running on auto mode in search for another cigarette. He’s already strung high as it is, anxious about what’s to come in the abruptly called meeting, and if he wants to be in the right mind in amidst the bunch of retards that are his fellow Guardians - Ryohei screams ‘extreme!’ just at that moment -, he’s going to need double the dose of his usual migraine meds.
Collapse into me tired with joy
The next time Yamamoto meets Hibari again is in a pitch-black corridor of the incomplete underground hideout at the dead of the night. Yamamoto has barely managed to make it to the empty building, his suit suffocating under a thick layer of filth and blood, enemies’ and his alike. The new rings that Tsuna gave the Guardians are the best A class there are but they are no match to the now destroyed Vongola rings and on top of it, the mission has gone just a little awry.
He can just about to drag his feet forward and the tip of his new katana screeches faintly, drawing an ugly line on the otherwise pristine floor. His breathing comes in tight gasps, blood slugging over his eyes, and in the haze of pain and adrenaline rush, he tries to remember the blueprint he had seen over Tsuna’s shoulder, looking for the medical room. He is thankful that the little guy taught him more than just the fighting skills because despite the flood of crimson streams down his body, he probably can patch himself up enough to make his way again to the Vongola HQ after some rest. But that is if he can get his hands on some first-aid before he passes out and he chuckles wearily when he makes out the label ‘Training Room’ on the door; the task is turning out to be harder than he thought.
“Oh, well,” he murmurs into the darkness and starts to move to the next door, only to trip over in the sudden wave of fatigue. The katana rings shrilly as it falls out of his loose grip and the instinctive fight to save himself from the stumble ends up sending his already exhausted muscles into violent spasm. For god knows how long, Yamamoto cannot gather himself up, coughing his lungs out, yet in between, he manages to smile dimly. To tell the truth, he’s not completely aware of it, the expression so natural and innate. But the contraction of the facial muscles is vaguely registered and he can almost hear Gokudera barking just what he finds so amusing. At least he’s not bringing up any blood; that’s a good sign, right?
But the scent is already thick in the air and when the hacking finally ceases, he pushes himself up and lightly conks the back of his head on the wall. Sitting alone in the lightless corridor, dirty and so damn tired, Yamamoto laughs quietly to himself. He cannot quite define the reason for his laughter but what’s the reason not to? No one’s going to smack him for it, after all.
The soft chuckles echo eerily in the emptiness, chasing after the earlier ones of the metal clangs. Once it subsides, Yamamoto takes a deep breath to calm down the irritated lungs and gathers the last of his energy. Sleep sounds blissful and his eyelids feel like lead but really, he’d prefer something that has a bit more cushion than the concrete floor. So, he picks up the fallen katana and shuffles forward again, each step more precarious than the last. This kinda sucks, Yamamoto blearily thinks, a weak grin still curving the unfocused eyes. Then just as he turns around the corner, his luck changes.
“Yamamoto Takeshi. What are you doing here?”
The low voice sounds muffled and distant although the person speaking is right in front of him and it takes some time before his hazy brain connects the two dots.
“Ah, Hibari.”
Behind the Cloud Guardian is a thin stream of light, creating a snowy path on the black floor. Yamamoto chuckles at the blood he finally sees coating the area around his feet; Gokudera is going to throw a fit when he finds out.
“What are you doing here?” Hibari asks again apathetically, his hands firmly at his sides. Yamamoto merely blinks for a second and it takes him another few seconds to articulate before grinning widely.
“Sur… prise,” he manages to mutter an ambiguous answer before his body finally gives out and falls onto the Cloud Guardian. The tall frame seems to engulf Hibari for a second but it soon starts to slide down, leaving behind a trail of dark red on the violet shirt. The unimpressed eyes follow the crumbling until something catches them and Hibari tilts his head a little.
The little upward turn of Yamamoto’s lips.
Not a second later, Hibari turns around and leaves.
But if I try to find you there are only the shadows
When Yamamoto opens his eyes again, he is back at the Vongola HQ, all his wounds tended to by the hands of professionals. His friends come to see him the moment they hear of the news and Yamamoto greets them with hearty laugh. Unsurprisingly, it ticks off Gokudera and Tsuna has to desperately hold him back so Yamamoto doesn’t get put into another coma so soon. Later when they inquire about how Kusakabe came across him, Yamamoto blinks then grins enigmatically. Instead, he asks if they have seen Hibari. Tsuna shakes his head and Yamamoto guffaws as if that makes everything perfect. Tsuna smiles anyway even though he’s a bit perplexed at the response. A step behind him, Gokudera eyes the swordsman in silence, his lips thinned in a tight line.
And by dark arts cast a light
A few weeks later, they discover Hibari’s whereabouts; and Reborn’s death. Tsuna spends the day by himself in his room. Gokudera spends the hours stalking his boss’ office and instructing the investigation on the demise that should have been impossible. It’s not just a death of the world’s best hitman but a signal for a new, cruel and blood-splattered era. That evening, Ryohei takes the girls away and Yamamoto stays with the children.
“Yamamoto-san,” I-Pin asks after a series of questions that the Rain Guardian could not quite answer all except saying that it will be okay, “are you not sad?”
“Huh?”
“Yamamoto-san,” I-Pin says again, looking up with red puffy eyes, and gently lays her small hand on Yamamoto’s face, “you’re smiling.”
Yamamoto blinks at the warm touch and the worried gaze of the young girl. Lambo also stops sniffing and stares at his favourite Guardian. After a moment, Yamamoto does the only thing he can think of; he laughs albeit subdued.
“Yamamoto-san?”
“It’s going to be okay, I-Pin,” Yamamoto says, patting both of their heads on either of his shoulders, and Lambo and I-Pin look at each other before nodding. Perhaps it’s just one of those adult things that they can’t understand yet and they’ve got enough to worry about already.
For tonight, they are fugitives from the tempestuous world and the curtain of tranquil rain will keep them safe.
I should tell you, I’m disaster
Later that day, when the two have finally fallen asleep, Yamamoto spreads a soft blanket over them and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. When he turns around, he sees his reflection on the window, wearing the habitual smile that he had not even been aware of.
I-Pin’s earlier words echo in his mind and slowly, Yamamoto traces the curl of his lips with his fingers, all the while examining his other self. For the first time, he asks the question that Gokudera had snarled countless times; why was he smiling?
“Feeling narcissistic?” the smooth voice rings out in the otherwise empty corridor and Yamamoto knows who it is just by the feeling of the approaching presence.
“Yo, Hibari.”
Hibari looks mildly surprised and somewhat amused at the smile Yamamoto flashes. Yamamoto, for the first time, averts his eyes, back to the image of himself.
“Not mourning like those herbivores?”
Yamamoto chuckles ruefully, the merriment marred with confusion.
“I am.”
“By smiling?”
Yamamoto doesn’t reply; he doesn’t know what to say. Hibari looks at the crescents of hollow olives and without a word, walks past him. Yamamoto stays, blankly staring at his reflection, wondering why he is making that face.
Why he can’t make the face he thinks he should be wearing. And then, if he even knows how to.
It’s much, much later that Yamamoto recalls the direction Hibari had headed to that night; Tsuna’s office.
What hope shall we cherish, what pure premonition
Since then, Yamamoto notices Tsuna of all people watching him in the gaze that reminds him of Hibari. When he inquires about it, asking if he’s got anything on his face, Tsuna just smiles and shakes his head, his large eyes thoughtful and apologetic for some unknown reason.
The day Yamamoto finds his father dead in Takesushi, the fond place destroyed and reeking of death, Tsuna cancels all his schedule and stays with him. Yamamoto tells him there’s no need because he does know more than he appears to and the mafia world is edging towards a pandemonium every day, but Tsuna is strangely stubborn. Rather, Tsuna watches his Rain Guardian with a complicated face; Yamamoto is yet to shed a single tear since he had held the bloodied corpse of his father in his arms. What he sports instead is a weary grin but Tsuna is fairly sure that his friend is oblivious to it.
“I’m sorry, Yamamoto,” Tsuna whispers when they return to Yamamoto’s room after the burial and Yamamoto shakes his head almost reflexively, having heard the same phrase so many times already from various people.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Not just that,” Tsuna says and for the first time in their long friendship, he hugs his friend and Guardian tightly despite the height difference which has not decreased at all over the past years. Yamamoto blinks before chuckling lightly, wrapping his arms around the small frame and returning the warm embrace.
“Tsuna?”
“Yamamoto,” Tsuna murmurs, “I’m sorry I hadn’t realised it sooner. I’m sorry I had let it get to this point that you don’t know how to stop smiling even in times like this.”
Surprised, Yamamoto tries to pull away but the lean arms locked around him are deceiving in their power and he has no choice but to remain in the first embrace from the boss he had followed since the old days of the middle school.
“What are you talking about, Tsuna? You didn’t do anything wrong. You never have.”
Tsuna finally unwraps his arms and takes a step back, a rueful smile faint on his face, and Yamamoto cocks his head in puzzlement. In his mind, the brief conversation with Hibari is in replay and Yamamoto struggles to define the unknown weight that pains his heart a little. Then much like the way I-Pin had once done, Tsuna places his hand on Yamamoto’s face.
“Yamamoto, you’re the Rain Guardian who washes all away. Even before that, you always took away any fear and uncertainties I had by simply being you,” says Tsuna, chuckling at the nostalgic memories brimming with Yamamoto’s quirks that used to throw him sideways. Yamamoto has a lot of things he wants to say, like how it’s Tsuna who is the amazing one and how he is just doing his best to protect his precious friend, but for now, he stays quiet because he can feel that whatever Tsuna has to say, he has been thinking about it for a long time.
“But despite my promise to protect you guys, it seems I took your kind heart for granted. We all thought it was nothing strange that you beamed at us and laughed no matter what happened. I never thought that the calmness we got from you was at this kind of price.”
By now, Yamamoto has officially lost Tsuna and it must have shown on his face because Tsuna chuckles sympathetically before patting his shoulder, this time, his expression that of the Vongola Decimo rather than the dame-Tsuna Yamamoto has grown up with.
“Yamamoto, it’s impossible for me but that person will break the chain you so selflessly shackled on yourself. It might not be very pleasant. In fact, it might be anything but that. Afterwards, you might no longer be smiling as radiantly as you do now.”
Tsuna pauses for a moment, the brown eyes softening back as they examine his first ever friend. He still remembers the hand that Yamamoto had so cordially offered when he had been rejected by everyone and the true carefree grin that had calmed him more often that he can count since then.
“Tsuna?”
“But you know… even if you end up smiling less, I think I’d be happier to see you freely acknowledging what you feel rather than feel obligated to laugh so much that you can’t even recognise your own emotions.”
Tsuna watches the thorough bafflement on Yamamoto’s face with slight amusement though it’s short-lived. Despite the famous Vongola hyperintuition, he has somehow missed the subtle shift in his closest friend from a breezy and exuberant teenager to a Guardian so loyal and protective that even Yamamoto himself had not noticed how fiercely he stuck to his role in the familigia. Though the sincerity of their friendship is well-known, Tsuna is one of the handfuls who knows that Yamamoto’s devotion for the Vongola and his friends easily rivals that of his infamous right-hand man. Now, with what little time he’s got left, all he can hope for is that he’s not too late and that he has made the right decision.
“Tsuna…” Yamamoto trails off and scratches the back of his head before sheepishly smiling. “I’m sorry but I don’t get what you’re talking about.”
Tsuna smiles as if to say he understands and hugs Yamamoto one more time.
“That’s okay. I feel bad for trying to break what everyone loves so much but I’m sure they will understand. And I believe in you. You will still be Yamamoto Takeshi, no matter what happens.”
And with those words that puzzle Yamamoto even further, Tsuna lets go of his friend and speaks no more of it as if it has never been brought up. The rest of the day is spent talking about their old days and when Gokudera comes over, grumbling that all he was looking for was just the Tenth, they drag him down too despite his protests. Soon, Ryohei joins them and the sparks are instantly flying between him and Gokudera. The usual insults are thick in the air as the two start brandishing even their boxes and Tsuna smiles awkwardly just like he used to back in the school days, trying to stop them from demolishing Yamamoto’s room.
Gokudera’s box gets opened anyway though accidental and out of all things, Uri jumps out, latching onto its owner’s face. By the time Gokudera manages to disentangle himself from the vicious kitten, Yamamoto is barely sitting upright on his bed, having stitches at his friends’ antics. Tsuna’s words still ring in his head but for now, he laughs right out of his heart, very much aware of the guffaws escaping him. If there is one thing he wishes for at that moment, it’s not to lose any of his beloveds anymore so that this time of pure merriment will last just a little longer; so that Tsuna won’t have to worry about his incongruous smile, so that he won’t have to try to solve the riddle.
Because vaguely, his instincts tell him that it might not be too far from a Pandora’s box.
Unfinished lullaby
Later that night, when everyone has fallen asleep, Tsuna quietly slips out and makes a phone call, his resolute eyes on the thin slice of silver in the black sky. As the acrid ringtone starts, Tsuna sighs quietly. There are so many things that need to be fixed in this world with so many unknown factors. The only thing he knows for sure is that once tomorrow comes, everything will change, be it something as grand as the fate of the Vongola or something as personal as the permanent smile on his dear Rain Guardian.
When the ringtone dies and silence fills his ear, Tsuna glances back to the door he has just come through, behind which his most treasured of the family - not familigia but family - slumber, and determination dyes the caramel eyes with a hint of orange.
“Hibari-san,” Tsuna’s quiet but firm voice whispers just loud enough for the other to hear, “tomorrow is the day. I leave everything to your hands.”
Hibari hangs up without a word. Tsuna smiles, knowing that the Cloud Guardian will be here to take care of the mess he is sure to leave behind.
Every paradise is lost
Yamamoto cannot quite believe that he is standing in front of a coffin again so soon. Next to him, Gokudera, the only one who had accompanied Tsuna to the meeting with the Millefiore, is barely standing upright even with Bianchi’s support; it’s a miracle that he has managed to even get out of bed, let alone arrange everything of the funeral with the battered body of his. Lambo is sniffing as quietly as he could behind him and Ryohei pats the teen’s head. Chrome just hugs her trident closer to her chest, hunched as usual between Ken and Chikusa and looking determined about something.
The Vongola Guardians are only a few of the massive black crowd that has gathered around the glistening coffin, a golden Vongola emblem resting majestically on its lid. Despite the sheer number of people present, complete silence reigns over the clearing save the quiet words the priest mumbles. At some point, even Lambo’s sniffing dies out; or perhaps he simply does not hear them anymore. His mind numb and his ears ringing with silence, Yamamoto’s blank eyes are inevitably drawn to the symbol that represents everything he stands for; the symbol that his friend and boss has died for.
He’s not quite sure how it has come to this and Gokudera has been in no state to talk about it either, constantly passing out from his injuries and powerful analgesics, only to come around and drag himself back to organising the last event of his boss’ life.
Just as the priest comes to an end of his prayer and everyone murmurs ‘Amen’, a black car glides in without a sound and pulls to a stop though no one gets out. Yamamoto glances at the late arrival and the little turn of his head catches Dino’s attention from the other side of the coffin. Dino’s eyes widen slightly when their eyes meet and for some reason, the first thing Yamamoto recalls is his late friend’s words, the regretful voice ringing clear as if Tsuna is right next to him.
‘I’m sorry I had let it get to this point that you don’t know how to stop smiling even in times like this.’
Suddenly, Yamamoto feels sick and horridness starts to knot his gut but the blonde then smiles. Yamamoto nearly flinches though because it’s the same kind of one he had seen on Tsuna that same night. Unaware of it, Dino jerks his head towards the car and nods, exasperation flitting across his face faster than a flash, and Yamamoto nods back, ignoring the dreadful sensation of the blood draining from his face; the last of the Vongola Guardians has finally arrived.
An operatic tragedy
‘Hibari-san, could I ask you for one more thing?’
‘Sawada Tsunayoshi, I’m not one of your herbivores for you to order around as you please.’
‘I understand, Hibari-san. But I believe it’s a matter you’re somewhat interested in as well.’
‘…’
‘…When the time comes… please break Yamamoto’s smile.’
‘Do it yourself.’
‘I can’t. None of us can even if others realise it. We all love Yamamoto’s exuberance too much to shatter it with our own hands even if we know it’s for his sake.’
‘It’s none of my business.’
‘Hibari-san, I don’t know what kind of oddity you have noticed from him but whatever it is, you’re the only one who’s aware of it apart from myself. Isn’t that why you’ve been watching him?’
‘Remember who you’re talking to and what you’re asking for. He’s a foolish wolf wearing a sheep’s skin and I will kill him without hesitation if he’s not worth it.’
‘Yamamoto has changed, Hibari-san, without even himself realising it, but he hasn’t weakened.’
‘I wonder.’
‘There will come a time when all it requires is just a little push but it’s not the kind that any of the other Guardians can give. I will do my part before I face my end. Hibari-san, could I please ask you to carry out the last step?’
‘I will do what I please.’
‘Thank you.’
One pierced moment whiter than the rest
Yamamoto can no longer tell what kind of face he is making. The few prior experiences tell him that he has never been good at it anyway but huffing and tripping in the heavy tsunami of all the unleashed emotions that he had neglected obliviously, he’s not even sure if he’s crying or screaming in anger.
But there is no time to tame it or slash it down. In his ears rings the sharp metal clangs constantly as his katana parries the merciless blows of the tonfas and Hibari is at the peak of his natural lethality, the agile fighter dancing in a fatal rhythm he is all too used to.
“Hibari… Hibari!! Hibari, stop!!”
“I said I will pry open the real you, Yamamoto Takeshi,” is the only response he gets from the Cloud Guardian who pivots so gracefully and so quickly, the power of the turn delivered straight to him through the tonfa.
Yamamoto cannot understand. All he knows is that at some point during the funeral, his stomach was doing somersaults and his gut was twisting, the pulse growing faster and harder as if something was thrashing to get out. Perhaps it’s the reaction he saw from Dino when their eyes met. Perhaps it’s Tsuna’s words he recalled. Or perhaps, it had already begun when I-Pin had laid her hand on his face. All he knows is that at some point after the funeral, everyone had left, the rain had started, and someone else had arrived at his side; Hibari Kyoya.
‘Still smiling, Yamamoto Takeshi?’
The next second, his katana is thrown at his feet and the tonfas are blazing through the air, Hibari whispering ‘I’ll rip that herbivore skin off you,’ in a tone that sends a chill down his spine; amused, determined, sadistic, predatory.
And the flurry of attack has rattled the bars of cage inside him that Yamamoto has not even been aware of and the beasts that are the sadness, the pain, the regret, the tears that had been ignored from their birth are eager to be released. Every hit of the tonfa, every parry of his katana, is a key unlocking the Pandora’s box and Yamamoto is getting desperate as his brain feels like erupting with the sudden overload of the intense emotions. In the body of a grown-up man, Yamamoto finds a small, helpless child of himself, scared and lost in the roaring flood of darkness from within.
“Hibari… please, stop,” Yamamoto manages to grit out between the clenched teeth, his voice shaky and weak. The sneer adorning Hibari’s face tells him that the other has heard him, but that does not change anything in the brutal swings and now, Yamamoto is confused, exhausted, angry, sad, and millions of other things that he is yet to learn the names of. At the back of his stormy mind, he vaguely wonders why it’s now out of all times that Hibari is cornering him like a ravenous predator.
The tonfa meets the katana with a shrill and Hibari licks the raindrops off his lips as all the trace of what had once made the man in front of him Yamamoto disappear. The swordsman’s lips are bruised and bleeding, thinned in a tight line, the facial muscles are stiff and tense, and the olive eyes at last shed a tear that was due far too long ago as frustration and weariness finally finds their way out.
“Please,” Yamamoto murmurs, the katana falling onto the wet grass helplessly. The owner follows it, the broken face hanging low, and Hibari stares down at the gasping Rain Guardian indifferently.
“You’re a foolish wolf who tried to wear a sheep’s skin, Yamamoto Takeshi.”
Yamamoto cannot even turn his face upwards, his chest caught in a vice grip and his heart bleeding crimson tears. There’s a heavy weight dragging his gut down and adrenaline is exciting the nerves all in a wrong way as the level of every hormone in his body shoots through the roof.
“What do you want from me, Hibari? This is who I am, I’m not a wolf in a sheep’s skin or a herbivore or anything. I’m just Yamamoto Takeshi, the Rain Guardian of the Vongola Familigia!!”
It’s when Hibari merely frowns that Yamamoto realises he has started screaming halfway through. Yamamoto sighs in defeat, his mind too out of control to even consider apologising. Moreover, something tells him that it’s not what the enigmatic man wants to hear anyway.
Yamamoto doesn’t make to move even as he sees Hibari bending down and a tonfa sneaks in under his chin. When it lifts his face up, Hibari is a mere inch away from him, not a breath out of the calm rhythm.
“Why do you smile, Yamamoto Takeshi?”
“Am I?”
Hibari lifts an eyebrow before smirking.
“Why did you used to smile?”
“Why not?”
The tonfa under his chin connects with his right jaw in a flash with enough force to send him flying for a fair distance. Hibari catches up in leisurely strides like a big cat toying with its prey and Yamamoto does nothing but blinking at the crying sky, his body feeling too small for whatever crazy tempest it is that Hibari has unleashed in him. Suddenly, Hibird appears out of nowhere and chirps; “Yamamoto! Crying? Crying?”
Yamamoto buries his face in his hands, ignoring the far too clever avian. Hibari can hear the raspy breathing, hitched and out of control, as the rain washes away the blood on the Rain Guardian’s lips. They open and close a few times before Yamamoto manages to push some words through.
“Hibari, why are you doing this?”
The question sounds half-resentful and half-resigned, a tone never heard from the Rain Guardian and Hibari plants his foot on the heaving chest. The mud on the black shoe leaves a dark footprint on the blue shirt the same way Yamamoto had once left a crimson tail on Hibari.
“Because I feel like it.”
“Why else, huh.”
There’s no hint of amusement in the broken voice and Yamamoto folds his arms over his face, blocking it completely out of Hibari’s view. The momentary silence is but short-lived, soon broken by a shaky, desperate, and sobbing voice of the once perpetually grinning Yamamoto.
“Hibari, Hibari, Hibari, Hibari…”
“Shut up,” The Cloud Guardian cuts off the pitiful call without mercy but it continues as if Yamamoto did not hear it. Irritation mars the pokerface for a second before the pressure on Yamamoto’s chest grows uncomfortably. The trembling voice still doesn’t stop and Hibari returns his tonfas back to the purple box, disappointment darkening the black eyes.
“Are you just a herbivore after all?” he mutters disdainfully and turns to leave. As the soggy weight lifts from his chest, Yamamoto’s shoulders shake violently and the hands curl into the pale tight fists. When Hibari is about halfway across the clearing, he hears the loud howl from behind him, full of too many different anguish released from the chain of the oblivious smile at last. Hibari does not look back and walks on, only to come to face to face with the Sun Guardian.
“Yamamoto, Gokudera’s out again… Hibari? Shit, Yamamoto?!”
Ryohei is shocked at the unexpected scene in front of him. The alliance families are holding a meeting and with the most obvious representative of the Vongola out of commission, he had figured that he and Yamamoto together wouldn’t do too bad a job but what he now sees is the Rain Guardian utterly and completely snapped and soaked Hibari whose presence is the explanation itself to all.
“Yamamoto! Hibari, what the hell have you done?!”
Hibari looks at Ryohei dryly then walks away, throwing a single word in the rain.
“Freeing.”
The past is another land
For two full days, Yamamoto disappears off their radar and the aftermath is clear in every step of the Storm Guardian who stomps around the base harder than necessary despite the wounds. When the man in question finally appears and falls right into his arms in exhaustion, mumbling an apology that he had needed some time, Gokudera smacks the idiot as hard as his healing body allows.
“Ahahaha… Sorry, Gokudera. How are you feeling?”
“Damnit, you’re way too late with that question, you idiot!”
Then Yamamoto looks up and smiles at him and everything suddenly clicks in place for Gokudera, right from the unusual interest Hibari had shown in Yamamoto to the late Tenth’s frequent sighs every time Yamamoto had left and then the fight after the Tenth’s funeral he had heard from Ryohei; because this Yamamoto is not the same baseball nut he has grown up with and will never be again, but it’s still Yamamoto Takeshi, the Rain Guardian of the Vongola Tenth.
“You fucking retard,” Gokudera growls with no genuine hatred and the softly smiling olive eyes say that they understand, just like they have always done yet so different in a million ways. After dragging the idiot all the way back to his room himself, Gokudera returns to his own room and opens the small safe in his closet. A black velvet box rests inside and when Gokudera opens it, it reveals a silver ring with a beautiful purple gem, obviously a class A Cloud Ring. The normally scowling face pacified, Gokudera stares at it for a moment before pocketing the box and calls Kusakabe on his phone.
He finally understands the short line that was written on the paper in the ring box in the Tenth’s handwriting; ‘Both you and him will know what it’s for when the time comes.’