Title: Clash
Summary: In a world where a certain Sawada Tsunayoshi doesn't exist, fate gets out of hand. Slight 6959, 5YL, AU, Oneshot. Secret Santa gift for Phantom Hitman 1412.
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ONESHOT
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Thank you to Mockingjay Rose and the many other participants of this KHR Secret Santa for making this possible. I hope you enjoy, Phantom Hitman 1412. This is for the KHR roleplay canon characters only 2013 Secret Santa Exchange fic.
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A single person's existence can change everything around them - and possibly the world they live in.
When that existence was destroyed before it was destined to, everything changes from decisions and relationships to life and death. Someone that the person saved might have not been saved. Someone that the person befriended might have continued to be misunderstood for the rest of their lives. Someone that person could've known would never come to know that someone.
To put it simply, even the smallest of changes can cause a gigantic wave of unexpected events that were not supposed to occur in time. A simple Butterfly effect.
But, you know...
...Fate is a strange, strange thing.
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A small puff of air escaped from the teenager's lips. He reached up to take a long drag of his cigarette before breathing out once more. Each time he breathed in the familiar bitter smoke, he felt a sense of calm that he desperately needed - especially in this time.
Then again, nearly all mafioso were alcoholics or drug addicts, and for a good reason too. No one ever mentioned the stress that came with the job.
The air felt cool against his skin; it was already winter after all with plentiful snow and freezing cold gusts to complete it. Hands ran through silver hair and eyes flashed as the boy ducked into an alleyway the second his sensitive ears heard even the slightest of unnatural sounds.
His body molded against the wall, dark clothes blending in with the shadow created by the towering cement. Still. Quiet. And then the voices became clear. He stood frozen, not daring to release a single breath as he prepared to bolt. Perhaps in another world, perhaps if he stood strong, perhaps if he never got involved with the mafia -
- Impossible impossible impossible. He was born into the mafia world. One did not simply leave. No matter how much a person tries to run and escape from the cruelty of the underground, connections, people, and simply the person's own existence prevents them from doing so. No one could completely destroy all information of themselves nor could they just force themselves to forget their secrets. They always got dragged back.
Once, he tried to run to seek comfort and security in a life of normalcy. He never tried again. Now, he was just running for the sake of living. At this, he bit back a laugh because the him of the past didn't know the meaning of 'retreat' or 'giving up'.
Now?
What a joke he had been.
"Mama!"
The teenager relaxed; even the mafia wouldn't dare cause much trouble during Christmas. It was still morning and they were probably partying away - even those people engaged in holiday activities. This was Japan, though, and he didn't feel as safe as he would in Italy where a large majority of the population were devout Catholics. He had offered his prayer earlier in the day, but the people after him...what God they believed in was one he didn't care to know.
As he thought over his rather drastic situation, the teenager ended up revealing himself to the public and walked out of the shadows. A reckless decision he normally wouldn't have even considered. Silver hair blew in the light winter breeze as the teen shuffled across the snow-covered ground, hands in pockets. He passed a woman and her child who sparked something in his mind but continued to ignore them.
"Oh, G-Gokudera-kun?" He froze and spun on his toes, glaring down at the woman in an attempt to hide his fear. His hands automatically reached for his bombs and box weapon, a spark of red flashing on his ring. Names were an important and critical part of the mafia and each one's identity and those who knew it were more often than not enemies. "It is you!"
The petite woman - no, teenager - smiled tiredly, but there was still an old hint of beauty that remained. Gokudera recalled a young girl with bright orange hair with an disarming smile. The two image clashed and blended. Bright with dull eyes, a large grin with a forced smile, a young face with a more matured and depressed one.
"...Sasagawa."
"I'm surprised you remembered me," she muttered, eyes widening. A slight flash of light reflected in her wedding ring as she tucked a lock of hair over her ears. She then looked behind her and gently coaxed a young boy hiding behind her coat. Black eyes peered from behind the pale yellow coat as messy black hair came into view. "This is my son, Kenta. He's turning four in a week."
"No last name?" he mumbled at a small attempt of making conversation, taking away his cigarette to throw it in a nearby trashcan by a bench. He forced his stiff body to appear relaxed. Bringing up her son's age was obviously a no-no, but what he just said was obviously the wrong thing to say from the way her eyes dimmed and the worried look that flashed across 'Kenta's' face.
"Mochida. His name is Mochida Kenta. His father - my husband - died about a month ago in an accident in Italy."
She laughed lightly, but it sounded like a broken thing.
Mochida Kensuke was a young bully from his former middle school when he had transferred to Japan on his acquaintance's wish. But that wasn't what got his attention. Just a month ago, there was a mafia bombing and a fight broke out between the Vongola's back-up force and the Black Spell. Of course, the idiotic and selfish boss of Vongola didn't even attempt to send out his main force to fight, and the family was breaking apart especially after Vongola Nono died, but that was another matter.
Mochida Kensuke was a rather good swordsman, Gokudera had to admit. They'd been on a mission once in the past, but that didn't matter anymore. There was a moment where he thought that the information could be brushed off as a coincidence, there were too many important things that couldn't be looked over. The Vongola was doomed.
"Oh." Gokudera then winced at his choice of words. Oh. Yeah, what a stupid response. "Happy early birthday."
If Sasagawa, or rather, Mochida noticed the diversion in conversation, she didn't show it.
"Thanks!" the boy cried happily, completely stepping out into view. Flushed cheeks and a cheerful grin that reminded him of a boy who attempted suicide in his middle school years flashed as the boy ran forward. Gokudera slightly envied his innocence. "Imma get Miura Haru-chwan's new a-al..."
"Album?" Gokudera supplied, raising one of his eyebrows.
"Yeah, that! Imma get that for Christmas!" He grinned again and then paused. "Oh, let's go, mama! The sale's gonna be gone!"
"'The sale's going to be finished,'" Mochida corrected and smiled down at her son. "Now, what are you suppose to do when you leave a person you met?" Kenta quickly turned and bowed at a 90 degree angle in all his innocence.
"Bye-bye, big bro!" he said.
Gokudera gave a half-hearted wave in response as Mochida titled her head, slightly limp hair falling across her face. The slight warmness that came along with Kenta dimmed before finally disappearing along with the two. Memories danced across his mind before starting to fade away; at least, until a sharp jolt of pain attacked his head.
"Argh!"
Gokudera clutched his forehead and fell on the nearby bench, biting back another cry.
"Tsuna-kun! Are you here for some cake again?"
"Y-yeah. Hey Kyoko-chan." The unfamiliar boy laughed nervously not in fear of pain but rather in fear of embarrassment or something similarly childish and smiled back. He looked familiar and the girl was the splitting image of the younger version of Mochida - ah. Her name before marriage was Sasagawa Kyoko. Then who was 'Tsuna'?
"Haha, the kid asked for some coffee so we're getting some snacks and drinks for the others!" another boy laughed, simultaneously interrupting Gokudera's thought process. Gokudera recognize the taller and muscular boy as the boy who attempt suicide, though his name slipped his mind. "Gokudera wanted to come too, so here we are!"
On cue, a younger version of him bursted out from behind the taller boy's back. On his mouth was a smile Gokudera never remembered wearing. "Hey, Tenth! We came for you!"
Gokudera, the one watching this scene played out, froze. Just as quickly as the pain came, it disappeared like melting snow. This wasn't the first time these strange images came to him; it actually started a few years back right after the appearance of the Millefiore Famiglia came to be known to the mafia world. There were only sounds and a few images though, and he had never seen that brunette before, even if his name and appearance was startlingly familiar.
This, however, was also the first time he heard names including his own come out. And he was there.
But he never remembered meeting them. Even if it had been years, certainly he would've at least recognized the boy? He wasn't sure what he felt about it.
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The small and dingy bar was dark and dull unlike the fresh-looking ones a few blocks away, but that was how he liked it. There was no bodyguard at the front door asking for his ID nor did anyone ask for his age. A few thirty or so people were dancing to the beat of the music on the dance floor while others sat in tables on the sides of the room or on stools drinking away. The drinks kept coming and each one was drowned down without a care. Perhaps it was some gene in his body or because he drank many times in the past, but he didn't feel the slightest of bit drunk even after his fifth shot.
He raised his arm to order another one before thinking better of it because if there were still mafia - mostly Millefiore - members out there, he really didn't want to be drunk. So instead he called for the bill, slammed some blood money (not that they know, of course they don't know) on the table, and stood to leave.
"How are you going to get home?" the bartender asked lightly, taking the bills and getting some change. Gokudera shrugged.
"A friend is here to pick me up," he lied through his teeth and took his change, leaving without another thought. Maybe it was the alcohol getting to him or maybe it was the fact that it was just Christmas that he decided that he had a bit more money to spend. Bianchi might've been proud - no, actually, she definitely would've been proud in her own odd sort of way if she thought he took some time out of his life to enjoy himself. Gokudera grimaced from both worry and disgust at the thought of the purple-haired beauty.
She was still alive. She had to be.
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Maybe he should've gotten dinner first before drinking, but whatever. No one to scold him here. Minutes later, he found a nice empty-looking diner and entered with little hesitation.
The small sushi shop was in one of the better areas and he entered. The sigh that read 'TakeSushi' was weary and old, but it was well taken care of. There weren't many customers as he correctly assumed - most were probably celebrating with their families - but there was a single sushi chief ready and prepared.
"Welcome! Table or stool young man?" The man's face had lines of aging and his dark hair was starting to show a few white strands. The stranger's warm brown eyes were old and weary and experienced - much like his own, Gokudera noticed, save the warm part. His own grey eyes were more cold and uncaring. Unsurprising, really. Gokudera, instead of answering, shuffled over and slumped onto one of stools to the side of the chief. That did little to bother the man and he continued speaking, "Stool it is! What do you want? Our fish comes fresh and anything here is delicious!"
"What ever you suggest," the teen said in a mumble, already getting annoyed by the needless chattering. The man was very unlike the bartender of the bar; the other actually took the hint.
"Not talkative, huh? Very unlike my son." He gave the teenager another long look, and Gokudera was this close to snapping, before the man continued, turning his eyes back to the fish. "You probably forgot him."
"Forgot?" Gokudera said. His lips turned into a scowl. "Who the hell are you?"
"Come back again and Merry Christmas," the chef called out, and Gokudera had to pause at the non sequitur before he turned to see the other last few customers leave with a wave. The chief starting mincing some seaweed, his other hand preparing a plate for Gokudera, the later impatiently waiting for an answer. Whether he noticed that or not was debatable, but he replied. "Yamamoto Takeshi's pops. He mentioned you a few times and looks like you were the one who notified the prefect who ended up saving him. You have my gratitude. I actually intended to find you sooner but it was like you disappeared into thin air after your first year there."
Every mafia members knows the basic of erasing their tacks.
Gokudera scoffed outwardly and took the empty plate with toppings. Part of his mind wandered to the past and he vaguely remembered throwing a dynamite on school grounds, bringing the attention of the school's violent prefect. That stalled the suicide attempt, but it wasn't as if he was doing it for the good of that stranger. Besides, Gokudera honestly wouldn't be surprised if that Hibari dude became a mafia member.
"You have the same hairstyle as Shamal, though," the older man continued as if he didn't hear the rude response. Gokudera froze at the mention of his name, eyes shifting from his plate, to the smiling man, and then to his hands that were handling the cooking knife. The knife used was sharp as expected, but the man's skills with it was amazing. It wasn't flashy or just for show; each cut was précised and skilled from years of practice as expected from a (supposedly normal) sushi chief, but something about the man set the alarm bells off his head.
"...Who the fuck are you."
The man grinned at the demand.
"I'm Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, an old friend of his. Takeshi always got injured once he got involved with that Kyoya boy and that new school nurse occasionally helped despite what he always say. 'I only treat woman', huh? He also mentioned you a few times too before he suddenly disappeared himself."
Gokudera paused as his mind quickly connected the dots. So the Hiabri bastard did become a mafioso. What were the chances. What a coincidence it was that he'd meet so many people who brought back memories of his past and outwardly snorted at the passing thought.
"He died," Gokudera deadpanned, if only to see the man's reaction.
"Oh. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised," the man said after a pause, causing Gokudera's head to snap up. He chuckled at the boy's reaction, causing the smoker to bristle indignantly. "I presume you're also involved in their types of fights and - "
"The mafia," he cut in. No need to beat around the bushes if they both knew what was already going on.
"You know, it's considered rude to cut off an elder," Yamamoto admonished lightly, but his eyes dimmed and smile faded before returning twice as bright. "I should've known. I just hope - no. No, forget about it."
Gokudera kept his mouth shut as he took the two plates of Nigirizushi and Makizushi, eating away. He might be a rude brat, but he knew how deaths could affect others. He might've told the man about his son's state if he actually knew of it, but he wasn't as kind as to give out empty reassurances nor as cold-hearted to state the obvious possibility aloud. It was unnecessary. Instead, the two kept quiet, relishing in the bitter silence -
Clang.
Gokudera slammed his head against the counter catching and ignoring the flash of worry in the man's brown eyes. His chopsticks clattered loudly against his plate before one fell of the table and onto the ground.
Why the hell was this happening again? These fucking images never occurred this often!
"You all right, kid?"
"You all right, kid, Tsuna? They sure put up a good fight, haha!"
"What's wrong? Need some water, boy?"
"'All right'?! Are you all right, Yamamoto-kun, Gokudera-kun?"
"No worries! They couldn't even scratch me!" Gokudera looked to the side of the door to see the young brunette. His eyes flashed from worry to happiness to relief, and then a mixture of anger and all those combination combined. Readable. He wouldn't suit the mafia. But the relief and care in those brown eyes was something that was needed by many in the world, especially in this time where little to no trust and where every man was on their own.
"That's great," the brunette breathed, smiling.
Another blonde quickly followed calling out something with a whip prepared before abruptly stopping to take in the scene of beaten and unconscious older men, lying bodies surrounding two boys (one being the baseball idiot and the other being the other him). Then, stupidly, Dino tripped over his foot. If he wasn't wrong (and he knew he wasn't), the blonde was Dino, the current Cavallone boss who was actually handling the present situation pretty well for what it was worth. The Cavallone Boss was a competent leader, and nothing like the one he was seeing right now.
It was a mystery, however, as to why he was there in the scene. Gokudera had only met him once through Reborn, one of the famed Arcobaleno who had gone into hiding at the moment. He didn't hear much news of either of them, but he was sure they were both still alive.
"Boy!" Gokudera wanted to turn towards the voice but his eyes were glued onto the scene in front of him.
The other him smiled - when was the last time I've smiled? - brightly back at the petite boy called 'Tsuna.' Green eyes gleamed with respect and care with a hint of worry and anger.
"Everything's fine. These bastards actually thought they could harm you, tenth, but don't worry; I won't allow that to happen!" he, the other him, declared resolutely, shaking the unconscious man in his hands for good measure.
Wait. Tenth. The title of the current Vongola heir who was currently Xanxus and definitely not that brat in the scene. Confusion welled up inside of Gokudera and he frowned; he really hated being confused. Eyes scanned the scene once more. There had to be a mistake. There was no way the boss of the most powerful mafia famiglia was this scrawny boy who looked like he could barely lift up a table, and there was definitely no way he would ever come to respect this boy. Perhaps he had mistakenly interpreted the scene incorrectly?
Or, perhaps, there was another meaning to this? his mind continued traitorously.
"BOY!" Gokudera's head was suddenly pulled upwards and a resounding clash echoed throughout the room, broken pieces of china scattered across the ground. A few strands of silver hair fell out of someone's grasp -
Someone
Who the hell was this 'someone'
His hear thumped loudly and Gokudera bit back a cry of pain as he forced his head to turn to the side. He forced himself to calm; panicking in situations never helped. He had enough experience to prove that statement. Brow eyes of fear and confusion met his as his head turned. The sushi chief was held captive by a blonde man with piercings covering his face, the same man who happened to be wearing a rather familiar silver and black uniform. Well, at least the old man wasn't trying to murder me in a trap.
"Both the swordsman's old man and Smokin' Bomb Hayato! What luck!"
Italian. Mafia. Danger.
"Byakuran-sama will be pleased," the other one laughed in crazed glee, one eye glinting in the dim light, curly and untamed brown hair falling into one hazel eye. The man holding onto Gokudera's laugh vibrated throughout his body and yellow teeth shown as his lips curved into a smile. Gokudera tried to move back in revulsion, eyeing the muscular and unshaven man in disgust before kicking his knee, allowing the man's grip to loosen in his surprise.
"Fuck!" he cursed and threw his back his right arm, sending it shooting forward.
Gokudera skillfully ducked with practiced ease and quickly clenched his hands into a fist, slamming into into the muscular body, right hand throwing the Mammon chain off of his rings bringing his boxes out. His left hand hurried whipped behind into his pockets and pulled out some hidden dynamites that were lit an instant later. He threw it without worry or shame - a shop could always be rebuilt but life would never come back once it was gone - and lunged forward to the blonde, freeing the black haired man.
His attempts served a cause; the sushi chief wasn't exactly fairing too terribly. The man had somehow gotten a hold onto a long katana and there were hints and sparks of blue flames dancing on the edges. They weren't attracting much, if any, attention at all in their hurried escape and Gokudera grudgingly felt his gratitude go to the blonde man with piercings with mist flames. The blonde had probably set up the flames before the assault. Explosions and screams followed the escape and Gokudera started feeling his legs going loose, cursing himself for even thinking about drinking alcohol. The mafia was always active (even during bloody Christmas) whether they'd be working on something secretive or something that'd happily make its way onto the public's newspapers' headlines.
Run, dodge, jump, duck, continue running, shoot out some arrows from his (incomplete) Sistema C.A.I., and repeat. It was a tiring process that only merited in the continuation of his life but he decided, as backup came in and more people started surrounding the two, he sure as hell wasn't going to die here.
"Nosaru!"
"Alright!" another voice called and a pink covered his vision. He almost thought it was a female for a second but the boy's body spoke differently. Gokudera didn't have much time to think as he duck and back-flipped- which was obvious the wrong thing to do as the red flames separated from the edges, heading towards his face.
Shit, Gokudera thought as the red came closer, I really shouldn't have drank tonight -
- and was promptly knocked over, blood splattering across his clothes. The flames exploded upon contact, knocking out the sushi chief into unconsciousness with nothing but a short cry. Gokudera stayed frozen in shocked and might've even checked on the man if the others had not went back for another attack. Gokudera quickly aimed his arrow towards a brunette, shooting her, and then ran towards the forest to avoid another attack from the pinky. Another blonde closed with a clean shaven beard and dark skin moved in with a similar weapon to the pinky's. The silver haired teen spun and hid his body behind one of the many trees surrounding them. As expected, the tree exploded and he took the chance to run.
There should've been a shrine around here! Gokudera froze once more and forced his body to continue on. But how did I know that?
The familiar (familiar?) shrine came into view and relief partially filled him as he took in the shrine grounds void of people. Part of him knew he was going to get captured soon or later but the stubborn part of him kept him there. The teen quickly wrapped his rings with the Mammon chains and took out his boxes, stuffing it under a well placed and removable brick ignoring his thoughts of why how do I know this just what is this? Afterwards, he dove into the shrine, hoping that he'd make it out alive and hopefully uninjured. Perhaps he would've should he known about the passage located there in another world, but here, luck, as useful as it could be, rarely came.
Gokudera's grip slightly loosened against the wooden wall and blinked, his vision becoming slightly blurry.
And then spotted a small cut on his arm, blood oozing out even though it should've started to close by now. He breathed and then out, a laugh breaking out, revealing his position.
Well, shit. I've been poisoned.
"There he is!" someone screamed and Gokudera moved out of his position, the only weapons left on his body being dynamites. It wasn't in his favor, but it was better than nothing. Gokudera quickly fell back into battle-mode and ignored the annoying sensation running in his blood and made a move forward before his body traitorously halted his actions.
"Argh!" His knees buckled and Gokudera fell onto the ground, barely managing to avoid the scythe, snow exploding into the air where the weapon made its contact.
"Haha! He doesn't even have his box weapons anymore!" The pink-haired boy, presumably the one he threw the dynamites at, cackled, moving in for the kill.
"Stop," a rough voice commanded, and the pinky abruptly stopped, head swirling around. Gokudera looked up through silver stands of hair, meeting a cool and almost painful looking grey. The man's blonde hair was pulled back and he had a more dignified aura and appearance.
Probably the leader.
"Yuni-sama wouldn't want him dead," he continued. Second in command, Gokudera's mind corrected, a memory of a young and petite girl with cold blue eyes that once would've shone brightly crossing his mind. Hard to believe that the 'current' Sky Arcobaleno, who doesn't even deserve the damned title, would be the other boss of Vongola's enemies. Slowly, the others surrounding the teenager and the bleeding man calmed. "Don't move or fight back-"
"- Or else?" Gokudera spat, an insane smirk crossing his face, his determination building up inside of him once more.
Red flames sparked back to life and flared outwards into the night sky.
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What a fitting Christmas, Gokudera's mind bitterly thought, eying the prison and soon-to-be room in distaste. His body was covered by bruises and cuts and there was one particularly nasty wound with blood oozing out of his abdomen thanks to the African and pinky. And, of course, burn wounds. Not as bad as his opponents', of course, but they still stung like hell. There definitely would be a scar if he didn't treat it soon and unfortunately, he was a prisoner. They threw a roll of bandages his way at the entrance to ensure his survival but nothing more.
"You're lucky," the orange haired guild in the white uniform commented brightly. Orange heels clicked against the floor and long hair trailed behind the prancing woman. Everything about her was bright from her hair to her glowing amber eyes to her smile screamed 'happy' and people in her position simply wasn't happy. Just the aura and her appearance put Gokudera on his defense - most of the mafia members who looked like they should be at a shopping mall rather than a battlefied were often as twisted as a twister. "You get one whole room to yourself."
She giggled for no apparent reason and her body was relaxed, assured by the fact that three other Black Spell members were holding Gokudera captive. She suddenly stopped.
"Here you are!" She twirled for good measure and grinned. "There's going to be another male in there who's going to be your caretaker. Don't worry," she continued, looking down at Gokudera's expression, "he's just there to make sure you won't cause any damage or try to escape."
She paused again.
"Not that it matters, really," she said under her breath, but by the way the males holding Gokudera captive stiffened, they obviously heard her.
"We'll take it from here," the blonde leader stiffly said, bowing respectfully at the redhead.
"Hehe! Alright, I'll see you when I get back from my mission," she called cheerfully behind her, already in the process of leaving. His capturers looked troubled as she left.
Gokudera didn't bother watching her departure and grunted, bringing the others' attention back to him.
"Tch! So disrespectful!" the pinky snapped, patience already wearing thin. Gokudera growled back, barring his teeth. Both blondes made a move to stop the upcoming fight, looking at the other boys in exasperation.
"Now, now, there's no need to fight now, right?" another voice entered the picture. Blue eyes were wide open and the young man had a tentative expression on his face, hands clutching a black notebook that stood out against the white uniform. Three other heads snapped towards the sound and the young man with neatly cut blue hair smiled, looking slightly intimidated by the frowns. He turned and nodded at the hostile men behind Gokudera before turning towards the teen. "I'm Leonardo Lippi in Squad Six. I'll be looking after you for a bit."
Green eyes met blue. Something sparked within Gokudera's mind: blue and red eyes.
Red eyes that happened to have a kanji markings on it...
"We'll be taking our leave now," the blonde man interrupted their starring contest as he released the chained bomber.
The blue-haired man cowered, but retreated. The pink haired one sent a spat towards Gokudera's jail cell before the blonde pulled him away.
"Goodbye," Leonardo stated plainly, waited for all of ten seconds after they left their sight, and turned to unlock the door before doing the same to the chains. The teenager gave the other man a suspicious glance.
"You sure you should be doing this?" Gokudera snorted as he ran his fingers across his bruised wrists. Well, he wasn't about to ignore this chance.
He posed, ready to punch, but holding back. Five years ago, he would've cussed out the man and thrown some right-hooks with little thought. Now, stealth could mean the difference between life and death.
Leonardo stared at the teen for a second before smiling again, looking decisively darker and crueler.
"Why don't you come in first? We have all the time in the world to chat."
.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Oya, what vulgar language," the man tutted, his new appearance obviously affecting the silver haired teen. Instead of the formerly shorty and neatly cut hairstyle, his hair was clipped up in the back, the remaining loose hair cascading down his back. Heterochromic eys of ice blue and ruby red (with the kanji markings) replaced the dull blue he spouted moments before. Loose and dark clothing replaced the white uniform with a cape and a trident to complete the look. "You know me."
A mist user. Gokudera detested mist users. They were absolutely annoying as hell, and beating them took more than his normal brutal strength and explosions.
"I don't," Gokudera deadpanned, annoyance welling inside of him, the pain from the wound already pissing him off. "I know of you. Leonardo Lippi, assistant and secretary of Byakuran."
Each word was said with a spat, the venom in his tongue even more pronounced as he said the Millefiore Family's Boss's name.
"Then why are you asking me?" The man smiled, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
Well, now at a closer look, he looked much less like a man and more like a teen. He couldn't have been much older that Gokudera himself. But age never mattered in the mafia.
"Don't avoid the questions and just answer, goddammit!"
At this, the other's smile dropped and he scanned the silver haired teen. He had the looks. He had the attitude. He had the powers and weapons and fighting style. But he didn't have the memories. "It looks like you don't quite remember yet."
"Remember what?" Gokudera growled as he stood, shoving his face to purple-haired teen's eye level. The older teen's response was a smile.
"You'll know it once you remember it," he stated simply. "Or...you'll understand it once you accept it."
Gokudera froze as he felt a slight brush of hand dancing across his cheeks. They weren't touching but they were close enough to feel each other's breath. Red and blue eyes stared back at his, mysterious, unreadable, and terribly annoying. His body shivered and Gokudera stumbled back being falling onto the only wooden bed.
"Tell me this: do you remember- no, not 'remember'- did you see a boy with brown hair and eyes with a fair complexion and small stature? A clueless little lamb, so unprepared for what was to come?" he asked, eying the other. There was a flash of anger in his body, though from what Gokudera didn't know. Gokudera blinked stupidly before staring back suspiciously, obviously weighing the outcomes of his answer. Just as he was about to open his mouth, a single finger came and rested against his lips. "Ah-ah-ah. Don't bother lying."
Then he withdrew the finger before Gokudera could bite it.
"And why the hell should I tell you?" Gokudera demanded, displeased with the lack of answers. Gokudera glared back haughtily, looking at the other like how a detective would look at a puzzle.
There was a short silence where the only sound heard was the breaths of the two boys. It brushed against Gokudera's face, and though he felt uncomfortable, he wasn't about to give this bastard the satisfaction of backing down.
"So you do remember..." the other finally muttered, a pleased smile crossing his lips. He looked at Gokudera's stunned expression before letting out a loose laugh that was odd and unique but strangely pleasing all in one. "You actually thought about your answer for one. Should you really have not known anything, you would've told me that you did remember within seconds, and yet you didn't. There was a flash of recognition in your eyes when I described Tsunayoshi-kun."
"Tsunayoshi," Gokudera tested the name on his lips, words rolling naturally. Why was that name so familiar? It sounded too important and sparked too much emotions to be a name he just heard of on that very day. A mix of emotions swirled in him and he himself had trouble picking out each of them. The most apparent ones were respect (for who?), fear (what for?), and anger. Out of the ones that were listed, Gokudera automatically focused on the least confusing one: anger.
"If a coward like you becomes the 10th boss, it'll mean the end of the Vongola family!"
"Don't worry, I'll protect you."
"I refuse to accept you as our leader!"
"Can't we just be classmates?"
"You risked your life for me...Now my life is yours!"
"Sawada Tsunayoshi..." Large eyes, tentative actions, amber eyes (that was accompanied with glowing flames most prominent on his head and hands that accepted anyone, a familiar stare that just forced others to respect him, and a dull, cold, black coffin -)
Every time he thought he figured out something, more questions would arise. The world was seriously annoying.
"Oh, Gokudera? Have you seen Tsuna and the kid anywhere?"
"Yamamoto Takeshi..." Baseball, constant smiles, and katanas (covered with blood, of course, and the one who held it was smiling all the while, gently, helpfully, washing away the pain -)
Flashes of pictures came and went. Smiles, tears, explosions, rings, orange, red, and blue flames that just shone with brilliance.
Gokudera's head snapped towards the other man, eyes wide as he took in his appearance in a different light. "You. I've seen you before...Your name -"
His voice cut itself off. Gokudera knew it somewhere deep, deep down inside of him but he just couldn't remember it - almost as if there was a wall blocking his thoughts. Everything seemed to cut off and the clear picture of the brunette, the baseball idiot, and himself was starting to die.
He wanted to destroy that wall.
The not-quite-man but not-quite-boy smiled lightly, moving across the small room in a single step before placing a hand on the stunned teen. Gokudera stiffened upon contact but didn't move. The pictures (memories) danced by and a story (not a story, facts) started forming, information flooding his mind.
"My name? I'm surprised you don't remember me. Actually, perhaps that isn't so surprising," the man mused, removing his hand from silver tresses. "Looks like you can't remember everything yet. But..."
Remember, remember. What did he even forget to begin with? All questions and no answers.
"But?" Gokudera rasped out, exhaustion from the day's events and information flood finally settling in.
"You accept it."
"And what does that have to do with anything?" He didn't deny it.
The other man smiled again, looking almost depressed. Depressed as in sad, not the mocking and sarcastic kind or the alligator tears that he would've expected, but actual sadness and genuine regret (of what?) Gokudera gaped; he had the impression that the other didn't show his emotions off often. But just as quickly as it came, the expression was wiped off, not a trace of it left on the carefully empty face.
"Nagi will be pleased," he stated, a completely different topic (with, of course, more questions) formed, "though I can't say the same for Byakuran."
"What does the bastard have to do with this?" Gokudera perked up at the sound of his name, a dark aura surrounding starting to surround both of them.
"You know why," the other scolded mockingly before his expression turned serious once again. "He's always involved."
The room exploded, and Gokudera, for what he felt like the hundredth time that day, was knocked only the floor as fate pushed him through the incidents that followed.
.
The man ran with ease, jumping over red lines and trident poking (and as a result, destroying) any hidden cameras they passed despite the purple mist flames shielding them from view (as courtesy of the man.) Gokudera followed. He didn't want to, per see, but he had to. He didn't know any of the routes around there and wandering around cluelessly would make him a wonderfully easy target to kill. Between fighting fifty or so more men than he had to and staying with a madman that apparently had some knowledge that he desperately needed, Gokudera swallowed his pride and choose the later option.
"Hey, stop! Vongola, stop where you're at!"
Gokudera snorted. Only an idiot of a escapee would stop when the enemy ordered them to do so. Even though he wanted to turn and give the men chasing them a few good punches and perhaps even make them explode, it wasn't wise to stop for every single enemy nor was he going to use up the few dynamites he had left. And he should feel lucky about how stupid his other wardens were, leaving his weapons just outside of his prison.
The man he was following wave his trident and the voices of their pursuers gradually died away. They probably fell for his illusions, Gokudera concluded.
Gokudera's body lay flat on the grassy ground, feeling more comfortable than he thought it would. Through some miraculous circumstances, the two had somehow made it out of the blasted corridor with their soul intact.
He cursed his lack of endurance. His eyes were starting to see black and blind spots, his mind loosing its grasp of consciousness. Unluckily, he somehow managed to slip and fall over air- which might actually be a blessing, Gokudera wryly thought, as a stream of green light flew over him, making it's contact with the other man's trident. Gokudera quickly recovered and tried to continue, if it wasn't for his companion's stubbornly still body.
"Hey - !"
Gokudera's mouth snapped shut as he met the sight of another ten or so people and -
Shit, we're surrounded.
Panicked, Gokudera quickly lit and threw his dynamites to one side before making a run for it without much care for the other man, who had by far, managed perfectly well. Every man for himself. Flames burst into life as red covered the few dynamites he had left. Taking advantage of the first explosion, Gokudera ducked and dodged the falling rubble before throwing another lit stick towards the opposite direction he was going to.
The distraction was, surprisingly enough, a success.
He quickly jumped out of a conveniently placed glass window, ignoring the cuts and stings that followed his rash decision. Not expecting the long fall, Gokudera barely managed to grab a hold of a sturdy painting hanging off the wall before landing on the ground. It was probably the main hall or something similar to that. His own mansion (one far back in the past) had a sort of secret basement similar to this that was pressed to the side of the main mansion, void of stairs and only a few subtly placed windows and doors surrounding it.
"Oya, how mean of you, leaving me like that."
Gokudera grimaced, turning his head towards the other male who landed neatly onto the ground after following Gokudera's example. Footsteps and screams came from overhead and the two hushed, crouching behind another wall. The window slowly mended itself via illusions and the Black and White Spell members quickly passed above them.
"Where's Leonardo when you need him?!" a female voice shrieked, voice resounding through the air despite the doors and floor between them. There was a few more shouts and orders before they soon disappeared.
"Hmm, you're injured rather badly."
"No shit, Sherlock," Gokudera scoffed, glancing down at his miserable excuse of an appearance.
"Maybe you should rest a bit."
"..." Gokudera blinked and his nose scrunched up, staring at the other man. "You've got to be kidding me."
They were in enemy territory. ENEMY TERRITORY, with big caps in red. What possessed the man to make his think that resting and sleeping there would make their situation any better?
"Does it look like I am?"
Gokudera considered punching the purple-haired man.
"Don't joke around, you ass," Gokudera said, words a hiss on his tongue.
He laughed his strange laugh again, hand reaching up to touch Gokudera's shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll meet me again not too long from now. I'll do you a favor and take care of this. Think of it as a reward for getting back some of your memories."
He isn't kidding. At this thought, Gokudera prepared to leave the person he deemed insane (as if that wasn't already obvious) if it weren't for the other's surprisingly strong grip on his shoulder. The man's free hand gently placed his trident against the wall before reaching up to Gokudera's head. The kanji on his eyes flashed and Gokudera only managed to start breaking apart his companion's reasoning in doing so before falling into a dead heap.
His mind spun. He was loosing grip on reality, and the nose of the screams and echoes and burning fire faded into the background. The face came closer towards his, holding up Gokudera's chin with a single gloved hand.
"Ugh..." So he was a traitor. He really shouldn't have trusted this stranger. "You..."
"So much resistance...you really deserve to be his right-hand man. I wish you a wonderful Christmas, Gokudera Hayato."
Laughter.
Voices fading.
My name? I'm surprised you've never heard of me.
Red and Blue eyes.
Be careful of him, Tenth! He's an infamous criminal who's after you -
Then nothing.
.
Gokudera jolted upwards, ignoring the sharp sting of pain coming from his abdomen. Shaky hands clutched the ground below him - grass. Good; that meant he was outside. But the real problem was: what would happen next? Green eyes scanned the area, the blazing fire -
of red orange red yellow red red red
- coming from the blasted mansion that, humorously enough, reminded him of Christmas lights. How fitting.
A strange mix of satisfaction and anger filled him as he watched the spark rose from the house before gradually dying into the black sky from a hill about a mile away.
He stood and finally noticed the long trench coat hanging from his body that was a part of him, became him even...
Rokudo Mukuro.
.
Italics: Emphasis, sometimes thoughts
Bolded: Another language, most likely Italian
Underline: Speaking through electronics/writing
A/N: Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoyed this (it's kinda late but I blame it all on the time zones and the sudden breakdown in the web). Feel free to interpret this as you wish. I guess I kinda made them frenemies with possibilities. I hope you don't mind the different setting; I wanted to try something different, though this turned out a bit more depressing than I thought it would have. Finally fixed it up. As finished as it'll ever be.
*To anyone who didn't understand this, just imagine a world where Tsuna didn't exist.*
**To any BOF readers here: I do know what I'm going (and am currently) writing, though my laziness is getting to me. The next chapter will be up soon.**
***Edited: 07/21/18
Characters/Pairing: Gokudera and Mukuro Check
Genre: Anything, from action to romance, from fluff to psychological gore filled thriller, I don't care (this is Mukuro and Hayato we're talking about after all) Check
Rating (K-T): Any Check
Type of story (e.g. omake, poem): One shot or multi-chap, which ever your story ends up being. Check
Additional requirements (e.g. no OCs, serious fic): No OCs as the main characters/ love interests. Check