Live On, My Dearest Hayato.
Damn it, I need to stop watching things that make me cry!
The following is based off a doujinshi that I saw on YouTube. There was only one little bit of text and I don't know Japanese, so I don't know what it said. So this fic is based off of all the pictures. Never underestimate the power of a picture, okay? I wrote this directly after watching it, a spur of the moment thing. I'd say there's about a 60:40 ratio of what comes from the Doujinshi and what is mine, possibly 50/50. Like I said, there were no words, so I had to guess at thoughts, feelings and add in my own speech etc.
The link is: www . you tube (dot com, forward slash) watch?v= OdxA0BeM6OU or just type in 6959 and click the first link with 6959 as the title and a picture of Hayato's eyes being covered.
Disclaimer: I own neither Hitman Reborn nor the Doujinshi I'm basing this off.
This is set TYL, just after Tsuna gets killed but before TYE!Tsuna arrives to sort things out.
"In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, I commend Tsunayoshi Sawada to the Earth. From dust we came and to dust we return. May he find eternal peace in Heaven."
The following 'Amen' was one monotone mass, barely choked out between the tears of the family gathered there. One by one, people came up to the coffin to say their final goodbyes, to take one final gaze at the soft face of their most precious person. To take one last look at the fallen Sky.
Gokudera Hayato, the most loyal of right hand men, is the last to stand before his boss. He doesn't know whether he looks at his boss's sleeping face for ten seconds, ten minutes, ten hours, but finally he has to take a deep breath in and let go. A bright red rose falls from his fingertips to land on his boss's chest. He doesn't care that the rose is the wrong colour; that rose said everything he could never say whilst the man was alive.
A single tear drops off his face, landing on his Storm ring and Hayato can feel the power shatter. For what was the point? What was the point to having this power if Juudaime wasn't there to protect? A Storm could not be focused, it could not bring all the other elements together in a ferocious earth shattering attack if the Sky was not there to orchestrate it. His resolve had died along with the person before him. There was no point, no meaning anymore.
He steels himself, numb to everyone around him, unhearing of the muffled tears and quiet sobs, uncaring of the sad, heartbroken looks each is giving the other. His hands rise up, trebling barely, before pushing the lid of the coffin into place. His Boss would no longer be able to see the sky, and neither would they see their Sky again.
The Vongola priest and the others leave slowly, there was nothing more to see. For some strange reason, Juudaime had written that he did not want the coffin to be buried. And so it wasn't.
Eventually, everyone had left.
All but one.
Hayato kneels before the coffin, staring at the Vongola seal and X on the lid. This was it. This was the end.
And he hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye.
He stares at the lid, trying to think what his goodbye would have consisted of if he had had the chance. How could he explain to Juudaime how important the man was? How could he explain that Juudaime was his reason for living? Would he have been able to tell Juudaime he loved him? Hayato didn't think he had the capability to put that into words. There would not be enough words in the dictionaries of all the languages he knew to describe exactly what Juudaime was to him and how thankful Hayato was for his existence and presence in his life. Mere words were not enough. A life time of loyalty was not enough.
He would tell Juudaime that he loved Juudaime's smile.
He would thank Juudaime for allowing him to cry into Juudaime's shoulder for comfort.
He would explain to Juudaime that the man was perfect.
He would beg for forgiveness for every single white lie, every single mistruth, every single wrong doing Hayato had ever done.
He would express how Juudaime had influenced and changed him from a wounded little pianist to a confident Right Hand Man.
He would commend Juudaime for doing something everyone thought impossible- changing the Mafia.
He would make sure Juudaime knew how he had changed every single one of the Guardians for the better.
He would ensure Juudaime's legacy would live on.
He would get angry and detail how exactly he was going to kill the bastards that had torn his Sky away from him.
He would rant about having to babysit the others, an impossible feat without Juudaime around, before finally muttering that he'd make sure they were all looked after.
He would pluck up the courage to take Juudaime's hand, kneel before him, stare him deep in the eyes and say-
He jumped as a hand slid across his eyes and another across his chest as someone gave him a hug from behind.
Eventually, everyone had left.
But one returned.
Mukuro had returned when he finally realised someone was missing from the gathering back at the base. It had been over an hour since everyone had left the clearing, yet here Hayato was, looking exactly the same as he had when the lid to the coffin had clicked in place. Looking as if he hadn't blinked, or taken in a breath, or continued living since that moment. Hayato looked lost, conflicted, alone. Understanding the pain, Mukuro had walked over and given the lost soul a hug: He was not alone.
And that's when Hayato finally started to cry.
The tears came in a floor he had never expected from the prideful Storm. The man cried so hard he could hardly breathe, although that didn't stop the heart-wrenching cry that tore from Hayato's lips, a cry belonging to a wounded animal, not the Smoking Bomb.
Hayato knows he's doing something weak and pitiable, crying in front of another, but he can't stop his tears. Between when he'd heard the news and now, he hadn't properly cried about it, more focused about keeping the Family together and safe in the aftermath. But now he could, he could cry out all his tears and sadness and frustration and anger. Whoever was holding him would allow him this one time, right? One was allowed to cry when their most precious person was taken from them forever, right? This person would understand the injustice of this whole situation. It was not right that their Sky had disappeared.
It was all his fault
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.
He should have disobeyed Juudaime, followed Juudaime to that meeting. This was why he didn't trust anyone, because the few moments Juudaime is out of his sight and under someone else's protection, Juudaime gets killed. He should have been there, protecting Juudaime with his body, not letting their essential Sky fall. But instead he had been on a mission elsewhere, not knowing what had happened until he gets that horrific phone call that freezes the Storm in his tracks. He had gotten the news second hand instead of being at the scene where he needed to be!
It wasn't fair!
He tilts his head back as a horse cry tears itself from his throat. Why was the World so cruel to him? Why did it take his two most precious people away from him so horrifically? Did it enjoy tearing his heart to pieces time and time again? Whatever he'd done in a past life to deserve this, he was sorry. He would do anything to repent if the World would just give him back.
Mukuro wears a look of sadness, understanding and pity as he listens to the Storm wail. Hayato would be the one most affected by the death of Tsunayoshi, he had his whole live vested in the man. The others could move on because they had support and people to rely on. But Hayato didn't see it that way. For Hayato the world might as well have ended like the stories state happens when the sky falls. The man before him was nothing like the man he knew, and Mukuro couldn't bare it for any longer. Hayato should have pushed him away by how, insulted him and thrown dynamite at him, like Hayato would have done for anyone who had dared to touch him like this. Yet Hayato hadn't. Hayato was still crying.
Mukuro wanted it to stop.
He gently turns Hayato around so they are face to face and removes his hand from the man's crying eyes. Hayato finally looks up and the expression on the Storm's face pierces an arrow through Mukuro's heart. It was a look that clearly said: 'I hadn't gotten to say goodbye.'
But that could easily be fixed, he thought, as his eye rolled to the number one.
Hayato had only closed his eyes for a second, getting the tears to stop so he would no longer cry in front of Mukuro. A soft sigh causes him to open his eyes. His jaw drops.
For sitting in front of him was not Mukuro but Juudaime, wearing a soft expression that said Juudaime wasn't surprised to find his Storm in this state. It was a look that said he was sorry.
When Juudaime opens his arms, Hayato didn't even think, barrelling into Juudaime and burying his face into Juudaime' neck, tears falling once more. Juudaime's embrace is strong and warm, one hand buried in his hair, the other securely around his back, pulling Hayato closer. Words drip from Hayato's lips almost as fast and thick as the tears dripping from his eyes, and everything becomes an incomprehensible mess about smiles and babysitters and bastards and perfection.
Eventually the tears slow and Hayato pulls back, resting his forehead against Juudaime's like brothers instead. Juudaime is still smiling, albeit with unshed tears in his eyes.
Hayato remembered the last time they had been like this, although without the tears. He had contested Juudaime's idea of going to this meeting without him, ferociously fighting back yet eventually caving in. Hayato had pouted and sulked, looking down at the floor instead of at Juudaime. Juudaime had stepped close and rested his forehead against Hayato's, a small smile on his face as he had whispered reassuringly, "I'll be back. I promise."
Juudaime was back, but it wasn't supposed to be like this.
He could see how it was supposed to have happened, he could live the experience. His hand would be in front of him outstretched as he ran down the corridor after Juudaime, calling his boss's name. Juudaime would have snuck out without him anyway, leaving Hayato to follow after he realised the fact. He'd come across the doors to the meeting room and fling them open. He would feel the burning splatter of blood on his cheek from the gunshot as Juudaime fell to the ground.
He would be too late. Juudaime would already be dead.
But this time, Hayato would be there. The Storm would be unleashed and no one would survive.
He would kneel next to Juudaime's body, check for Juudaime's pulse and, when there was none, close Juudaime's eyes. He would cry for his fallen boss. Then next he would stand, dynamite sparking between every one of his fingers, his face a dark look of rage promising a painful death for every single fucker in the room. He would step forwards in front of Juudaime, and they would step back, realising the hell they had brought upon themselves. He would step forwards again and begin running towards them as they prepared to defend themselves.
He knew what was supposed to happen next. The world was supposed to be filled with searing heat, loud noise and thick smoke.
But it wasn't. Because all of a sudden Mukuro was there, Hayato running into his chest due to the abruptness of Mukuro's appearance. Hayato was shocked, eyes open wide in surprise. This was not what was supposed to happen.
"Allow me."
There was a plain, extremely neutral look on Mukuro's face as he turned away from Hayato to face the enemy, almost as if Mukuro had shut his emotions away. But Hayato knew that couldn't be so because he heard a liquid squelch before a purple aura surrounded Mukuro, so much thicker, wider and dirtier than Hayato had seen it before. With Tsunayoshi gone and Hayato in the state he was, Mukuro had very little hope left in humanity.
Before long, Mukuro is standing in a ring of gore and dead bodies, blood dripping from the trident held by his side. It would hurt Hayato too much to release his anger on these men and crash afterwards, so Mukuro had done it instead. Every single one slaughtered.
This was not the first time Mukuro had found himself in a room filled with dead bodies, bodies he himself had killed. The thick scent of blood brings the memory back, and for a second, Hayato is sure he sees a young boy in dirty blood splattered white clothes standing where Mukuro should have been. Scientists in lab coats cover the floor before the image disappears and they are once more Mafioso in black suits.
Hayato blinks and finds himself staring once more at the coffin lid, the illusion gone. He knew now that no matter what, he could not have changed fate and saved Juudaime. This wasn't his fault. He closes his eyes to collect himself and breaths a deep settling sigh. This wasn't his fault.
He rests his head and arms against the coffin lid, suddenly out of energy as the tension runs out of him. His head feels heavy and blocked up, he feels dizzy, his eyes hurt from the tears and the back of his throat burns. He would just rest here a while, and if he didn't wake back up, well, that was okay too.
Why did Juudaime have to leave him alone?
He feels Mukuro pick him up, but he is too tired to protest. Mukuro feels warm, Hayato realises as he rests his head against Mukuro's shoulder. Mukuro was here, alive, next to him. He appreciates the fact as his hand grips Mukuro's jacket. Maybe there was a reason to continue, there were other important people that Juudaime had cared about too, people that he needed to protect. Or how else would he be able to face Juudaime when they met in the after-life?
Hayato can feel the power rekindle back in his ring, feel the warmth of the Flame against his skin, flickering in time to the Flame Mukuro possessed. Silent tears run down his face; he wasn't alone.
He doesn't notice when Mukuro stops moving, nor did he notice the slightly shocked look Mukuro possessed. He looks up at Mukuro as the man puts his feet back on the ground. He doesn't get long to see the strange look on Mukuro's face since it's quickly covered up by Mukuro's hand over Hayato's eyes. Shocked is how he feels when Mukuro kisses him, but he doesn't reject it, instead kissing back in desperation because he was not alone anymore.
The fingers shift, splaying out to let Hayato see out of one eye, an eye that opens wide in yet more surprise when he finds Juudaime smiling back at him with a closed-eyed smile that said 'live on Hayato'. Juudaime opens his eyes, yet it's not Juudaime's but Mukuro's eyes that look back, the usual number six resting in Mukuro's right eye. Juudaime hugs him, tucking Hayato's head under his chin.
"Find happiness Hayato."
Hayato nods against Juudaime's white suit and black mantle, not looking up when he feels it shift underneath his skin back into Mukuro's jacket.
As Juudaime's image returns to Mukuro's once more, Hayato wonders whether that was even an illusion at all, or just wishful thinking, or maybe Juudaime's ghost, giving his final message- to live on.
Hayato doesn't break the hug, even though he knows its Mukuro and not Juudaime his arms are wrapped around. He just stands there, grateful for Mukuro's comfort and support, something he hadn't expected from Mukuro of all people. He realises everything Mukuro has done for him, from the simple act of returning, to the illusion of Juudaime's death scene, to holding him now.
Maybe… he could follow Juudaime's last wish and find happiness after all.
If you liked that then make sure to check out another of my fics called: Could you please wait a moment?
Phantom Hitman 1412
First Published: 10 December 2013