Title: Acquired Habit
Fandom: Kateikyoushi Hitman REBORN!
Characters/Pairings: Yamamoto Takeshi, with sides of Superbi Squalo, Reborn, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, Gokudera Hayato, Sawada Tsunayoshi.
Rating: PG? For some language. (Uh, Squalo.)
Genre: Introspective. A little angst. Kind of a character-y piece.
Word Count: ~1100
Disclaimer: REBORN! does not belong to me.
Notes: Take a little TYL!Yamamoto! I k - kinda love him. ;_; Also, crap title is crap. Couldn't think of anything else. Originally posted on LJ on 11/14/10. Urrr.
He sleeps with a sword by his bed because Squalo would have killed him otherwise.
He gives up baseball when he is twenty-two and so close to the majors that it actually makes the news when he drops it. Not the international news, of course, but Squalo hears about it anyway and drags him all the way to Italy for a celebratory bash that culminates in Squalo trying to beat the crap out of Yamamoto for not quitting sooner, while simultaneously screaming orders arranging for him to stay in the Varia mansion indefinitely.
The only thing that saves him later that night is the fact that he'd passed on the alcohol; he's barely still awake when he feels Squalo's murderous presence in his room, and it's like a jolt to his senses. He rolls across the bed, scrambling up and away and swearing softly when his mentor's sword sends feathers flying. Squalo's face, in the moonlight, is disapproving, and he scowls as he tells Takeshi that next time, if he's not prepared, Squalo will cut his fucking throat. He leaves then, and Takeshi lets out a breath; he knows that his Varia counterpart isn't joking, and that is why, four days later, when Squalo comes to murder him in his sleep, he has his sword ready by his side.
— Yamamoto Takeshi sleeps with a sword by his bed because Squalo would have killed him otherwise, and he absolutely did not give up pro baseball just to have Squalo gut him at midnight.
He keeps a gun in a shoulder holster because he has learned from Reborn.
He – like all the others – is forever Reborn's student, and has become, in some weird way, his successor. It had seemed, at the time, a very strange thing, that Reborn would make him learn to shoot a gun after having stressed the importance of mastering the Shigure Souen Ryuu. But the Kiddo had insisted, and Yamamoto had by then known better than to quibble, and Reborn had taught him how to shoot a gun, and where exactly to aim, and which kinds of guns were the best.
He'd hated the feel of it at first, hated the nagging notion that he was betraying the Shigure Kintoki, but Reborn had kept at it, kept him at the range until he could shoot with both hands and not miss even one of the moving targets. He'd been a little proud of that skill, but not actually appreciative until the day came when they destroyed their Rings, and he'd been stuck in a rut for two weeks afterward, unable to summon Jirou and unwilling to give up on the Shigure Kintoki. And he'd known then that what Reborn had given him was not simply a skill but a gift and a warning and a way to protect the Family.
— Yamamoto Takeshi keeps a gun in his shoulder holster because he has learned from Reborn, and the weight of it reminds him almost of a small body sleeping against the curve of his neck.
He makes rice the old-fashioned way because that's the way his father doe - ...did it.
They'd always had a rice cooker at home (because what family would be complete without it?), but they never actually used it for the purpose of making the rice. It was just where breakfast could sit and stay warm before he grabbed it on his way to morning practice.
By now, the motions are automatic: he pulls out pots and pans until he finds one the right size, then carefully measures out the rice and begins to wash and drain it. Water comes next, and then it's on the stove, and he knows exactly when to cover it with the lid and when to take it off the heat and how to serve it.
And when it's all done and he's standing at the kitchen counter staring at this bowl of perfectly prepared rice, he gives a laugh that sounds like crying and wonders what to do now, because he hasn't made anything else to go with it. Because he doesn't know how to make anything else, not with the odds and ends left in the refrigerator of his father's house.
— Yamamoto Takeshi makes rice the old-fashioned way because that's the way his father did it, and he misses his father.
He listens to classical music once in a while because Gokudera plays it.
He can count on his hands the number of times Gokudera has allowed any of them to listen to his piano, because Gokudera is an introverted sort of person like that. There are many more times when Yamamoto has just carefully, casually lingered outside the door of a music room, listening to the notes of a composition he doesn't know, thinking of the weight of fingers on keys and smiling.
He remembers junior high, remembers making the mistake of telling Gokudera that he kind of wished he knew a little more about music that's not a video game theme or anime opening because then he'd probably appreciate the songs a little more; and it'd been a mistake because Gokudera had tried to blow him up (although honestly, Gokudera'd looked red enough to explode first), but it'd also not been because once he'd finished with his rage, Gokudera had slipped four CDs into Takeshi's shoe locker when he'd thought the other boy to be at baseball practice and not watching him from around the corner and smiling.
— Yamamoto Takeshi listens to classical music once in a while because Gokudera plays it, and he misses the Gokudera who never played requiems and still smiled sometimes when his fingers touched the keys.
He lives because Tsuna saved him.
He knows now how stupid he'd been; how much he hadn't understood what his father would feel, or what suicide actually meant. He thinks of that day sometimes, and smiles crookedly because in a way, a part of him really did die on that rooftop.
In a way, he'd been able to start his life anew, surrounded by these strange people who could do weird things and played a cool mafia game that wasn't really a game. Who liked him even if he couldn't swing a bat, who kept him going on, living another day. Who felt the same way about Tsuna's smile as he did. Who looked at that short, good-for-nothing weakling and saw the all-encompassing sky in him, so broad and protective and open and honest.
— Yamamoto Takeshi lives because Tsuna saved him, and Takeshi owes him that and so much more, even if Tsuna's not around anymore to know it.