Yamamoto calls him frequently, but it isn't very often that the other man insists that Hibari stay on the line for more than three minutes. After all, Hibari is convinced that Yamamoto is the one who respects the space he needs the most, so it is rather out of the ordinary for his high school classmate to bother him for that long.
It is also incredibly rare for the man to request to see Hibari. Typically, Yamamoto had absolutely no shame in swinging by his apartment after closing up the family's sushi restaurant. It made Hibari vaguely uncomfortable with the entire situation, especially with the note of urgency that was in the aspiring baseball star's voice. Hibari knew better than most that Yamamoto's easy-going demeanor was not without a serious edge, but even for Yamamoto it was out of character.
"Hibari, c'mon. I'm just asking for ten minutes."
"No."
"Five minutes?"
"Yamamoto Takeshi, if you are wasting my time, I will make you regret it."
"Aha! Was that a yes?"
Hibari thumbed the red square on his phone with unnecessary force. He could hear in Yamamoto's voice that the idiot was going to continue bothering him until he agreed to meet. What he didn't understand was why the man had insisted upon meeting at the local Namimori playground. A playground meant people and noise. Separately, both made him irritable; together, they were absolutely unbearable. But he also trusted that Yamamoto did have something important to say, and whatever it was, it must have been so incredibly private that he needed to meet face-to-face in order to discuss it with him.
Which was precisely how Hibari found himself at the local Namimori Park sitting at Yamamoto Takeshi's side. The bench was slightly damp from the early morning showers, but it was the only available bench for the two of them. The local playground was always busy entertaining children, making it a popular meeting place for mothers after picking up their children from preschool.
The two twenty-year-olds stuck out in the area like sore thumbs.
Yamamoto leaned back against the bench with a carefree grin on his face. "Hey, Hibari, do you remember coming to this park as kids?" he asked, letting out a hearty bout of laughter when the other refused to respond. "I remember when Dad would bring me here, then he'd stop while we were going and say, 'I wonder what little Hibari is doing now.' That's when we would knock on your door, do you remember? You used to wait at the front gate for us!"
He only chuckles when Hibari glowers at him because it means that Hibari is feeling himself today. Yamamoto doesn't continue the description in the memory though; he knows that there is no need to remind Hibari of the true reason why the boy would wait by the gate. There was no need to remind Hibari that he would wait there because there was no one to take him to the park.
Yamamoto still remembers how Hibari would stay quiet the whole walk to the playground, and when they would get there, Yamamoto would ask Hibari about the cut on the other boy's hand.
He still remembers the angry look in Hibari's eyes that had caused him to stop asking about it.
"Don't beat around the bush, Yamamoto. If you came here to walk down memory lane with me, I'll bite you to death."
"Whoa whoa, wait a moment, I promise I called you here for a reason!"
Hibari raised a brow as Yamamoto as the baseball star fixed his gaze on the children taking turns going down the plastic slide. He raises the other brow as Yamamoto nods in their direction. Hibari frowns, not understanding an inkling of what his high school classmate felt was so important about all of these children. He doesn't particularly resent them, not at all, but he feels a sudden twinge of jealousy as he watches them with their carefree laughs, chasing each other all over the playground.
Yamamoto leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands folded to cradle his chin on the backs of them. "You don't feel drawn to any particular kid here, do you?"
The corner of Hibari's mouth twitches. "I'm not a pervert like you, Yamamoto Takeshi."
"Wh-what? No! No, not in that way! Just… you know. You don't feel anything familiar, maybe?"
Hibari's steely gray eyes narrowed dangerously. "There is something that you aren't telling me."
It was then that the baseball player raised his hands defensively. There wasn't going to be an easy way to explain things to Hibari. It was best to just bite the bullet and hope for the best, then. So he rubs the back of his neck, nodding in the direction of a four-year-old girl sitting on a swing, her dark hair pulled back into a neat braid.
"I came here to talk about her," Yamamoto responded. "I don't think you really know her though, and I don't think she really knows you."
"I don't understand you."
"Hibari, she has your blood."
It doesn't register in his mind until Yamamoto continues with his second statement.
"You… probably don't remember. It happened pretty long ago, I was told. I don't blame you, Hibari. I didn't think that you were frisky at that age though."
"Is this your idea of a sick joke, Yamamoto?"
"Hibari, don't be that way. She's your daughter."
He won't believe it. He refuses to believe it, but now the memories come crashing back about that heated Friday night, seventeen-year-olds who didn't know any better. Hibari glowers at Yamamoto, as if to growl how dare he throw this child in his direction.
"Her mother passed away recently with terminal illness. It was her wish for I-Pin to be raised by at least one parent."
"I don't care what her name is."
"Hibari — "
He thinks, Yamamoto would make a better father than him anyways.
"Hibari — "
Yamamoto's attempts to coax Hibari into accepting the truth are interrupted when the young girl approaches the pair shyly. She tilts her head curiously at Yamamoto, large, brown eyes focusing on the baseball player before landing on Hibari. Hibari meets her eyes with ferocity, but he does not show on his face how startled he is that the girl never backs off.
Perhaps she has her father's stubborn streak, even if she had her mother's eyes.
"I-Pin," Yamamoto begins with a warm smile. "Why don't you go back to the swings? The adults have some adult talking to do, all right?"
She is docile, nods quietly, before heading in the direction of an abandoned seesaw.
Yamamoto clasps his hands together. "Her mother gave me custody over her, Hibari. She knew you wouldn't accept I-Pin immediately." He laughs sheepishly before continuing. "It was good sense of her to do that, but now I'm the one with the hard job."
Only when Yamamoto lowers his voice again does Hibari realize that the easy-going baseball idiot is being completely serious. "Hibari, she wanted her daughter to grow up knowing at least one parent."
"No."
"I know what it's like to grow up without a mother, Hibari. I wouldn't want any other child to know the same feeling."
"We do not share the same sentimentality, Yamamoto."
"I know, I know. But I also know that you know best what it's like growing up without any parent around, right?"
The only thing stopping Hibari from grabbing Yamamoto's shirt by its front is the presence of other children. He's been cornered. Yamamoto is right; for all of Hibari's bark and bite, he would never wish for any child, no matter who they were, to suffer in such a manner.
Hibari watches I-Pin bounce herself up and down on the squeaky seesaw. Alone on the seesaw, she doesn't make it very far.
He rises from the bench once he's made his decision, and sits down on the other side of the seesaw. I-Pin raises her head to look carefully at Hibari, then glances over her shoulder to the bench where Yamamoto sat. Yamamoto grins and gives her a reassuring wave.
She remembers the words of wisdom that he provided for her, that the man she would meet today would be intimidating, but he meant well. There was something about him having a secret soft spot for children, but looking at his face void of any emotions (and those hard-edged eyes that looked at her like the eyes of an angry cat), it was difficult to believe that.
Still, Yamamoto had never lied to her.
Besides, deep down inside, she wanted to believe those words too.
I-Pin is lifted into the air by the seesaw when Hibari sits down, her tiny feet dangling freely. They don't say anything to each other, and they sit there quietly for five minutes.
When Hibari glances over his shoulder to look in Yamamoto's direction, he scowls at the cell phone that the baseball player has aimed in his direction.
The photo is probably going to Chrome, who will probably never let him live this down.