Summary: Each of his guardians is different. Each one follows the sky for a reason. And they're always asked: Why? 5YL-10YL

EDIT 9/3/12: Fixed some errors.

EDIT 1/16/15: Revision of chapter

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The Sky is the one that engulfs all. The Sky, the everlasting sky, is the one that understands, the one that accepts all the others: Storm, Rain, Sun, Cloud, Lighting, Mist. He is the one that binds them together, into a family. Each one is special. Each one has a different reason. And they're always asked: Why?


Rain

Reclined comfortably in one of the cheap wooden chairs of the rundown bar, Yamamoto Takeshi nursed his drink, swirling the golden beer absentmindedly as he silently observed the hustle and bustle of the people around him. Dressed in a casual jacket and comfortable jeans, the young man blended in easy with the crowd- no one noticed him.

The low, constant hum of words and drink slowly became a fuzzy cloud of background noise, and he briefly closed his eyes as he raised the glass to his lips. Then, the sound of breaking glass cut through his empty thoughts. Raising his head, Yamamoto shook himself out of his daze and focused on the scene in front of him. Near the bar counter, two men snarled at each other. One, a white, short, burly man, mustache dripping with liquor, tightened his grip around the glass he held onto and took a confident swig, glaring at the man across from him with bloodshot green eyes. His opponent, a tall, dark-skinned man with bulging muscles and a bald head, met the challenge head first and snatched the wine bottle from the bartender's hand, chugging the alcohol down in large gulps.

Around the two staggering men, a half-drunk half-high crowd roared in approval. Yamamoto's calm eyes even caught some cash passing through hands. The gaggle of onlookers shifted and moved, slowly surrounding the competition until Yamamoto could only hear the choking gasps of the two men and the shattering of glass.

Soon, the crowd swelled, parting to make way for the two lurching men - it seemed as if both were making a beeline for the bathrooms. Disappointed murmurs mixed with exuberant declarations, and more money passed through hands.

With a sigh, the young Guardian massaged his temples, gently setting down his glass on a nearby table. His nostrils were filled with the scent of vomit and various alcohols, and along with the booming music that shrieked from some speaker, somewhere, it wasn't helping his headache.

Why am I here again? He wondered drily, although he already knew the answer. Slumping in his seat, his eyes fluttered closed, and he shut out the noise around him.

"Yamamoto-kun, I need you to do something for me," Tsuna had said early one morning, waving a stack of papers at him. Bleary eyed and half-heartedly warding away sunlight, Yamamoto had sleepily taken the papers.

Glancing down at the words that seemed to be smears of ink, Yamamoto had wrinkled his nose. "An alliance contract?" he'd asked, doubtful.

The Vongola Decimo had given a sheepish smile. "Well, the Bevitore Family boss is known for his obsession with bars and alcohol and things of that nature." Rubbing the back of his neck, Tsuna had rolled his eyes. "He happened to forget to sign the contract after the last meeting," he had added as an afterthought, an edge of sorts underlying his voice.

Replying with a cheerful grin, Yamamoto had nodded, taking a sip of coffee before parting ways with his boss.

Ah, so that's why he was stuck here, sitting in a stifling bar filled with putrid smells and sweaty bodies. The food wasn't even that good, he thought glumly, cracking his eyes open again. A few days of research and digging into the Bevitore's Familiga's database had turned up this bar, apparently a favorite of the don and his closest advisors. With some help from Gokudera, they'd figured out a schedule that Bevitore more or less followed religiously.

Following a fixed routine was dangerous, especially for a Mafioso, for anyone worth two cents would be able to piece together scattered information and possibly ambush you. Being careless was the stupidest way to die, but, unfortunately, it happened.

So now, Yamamoto Takeshi sat in the back of the bar, near the fire exit, eyes sweeping over the tavern as he fingered the hilt of his sword. He'd wrapped it in black cloth and slung it over his shoulder inconspicuously - but he really needn't have bothered, for this tavern was quite lax with their weapon's policy, and just by looking around, Yamamoto could see slight bulges in jackets and pant legs that were tell-tale signs of guns and pocketknives.

As he mused over the motives of the Bevitore, he almost missed the shadow that sneaked through the entranceway, but a sixth sense alerted him to a malicious presence. The sharp click of a gun sliced through the crowd's noise, efficiently silencing the people. Around the throng of people, the air suddenly crackled with tension, and an uneasy murmur rippled through the mob. Yamamoto didn't move, but his eyes flashed dangerously and the scar on his chin throbbed slightly.

Already reaching back for his sword, Yamamoto took a moment to process the fact that the gun wasn't aimed at him, but at the drunkards that had been in the process of stumbling to the bathroom, no doubt about to puke out their guts.

On the other side of the barrel was a tall, lanky man, dressed in a sparkling black suit, sunglasses perched upon the bridge of his nose. Even from the back of the room, Yamamoto could see the arrogant curl of his lips and the haughty way he held himself. Flanking him were several other men, dressed in the same fashion, and each one wielded a gun, several more strapped onto the belt around their waists. At the obvious showing off, the rain guardian rolled his eyes at the inefficiency and the danger. But soon, his attention trickled back to the leader, and the sigma on his chest caught Yamamoto's sharp gaze.

Stitched onto the expensive suit was the swirling crest of the Bevitore Familiga, and the leader, no doubt Don Bevitore, was looming over the two men on the floor, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"What do we have here?" he teased, rubbing his hands together. "If it isn't Bobby and Jace - isn't this the third time you've broken the rules?"

Then two men blubbered and stumbled over themselves trying to explain, but to Yamamoto, it sounded like a whole lot of gibberish.

With a condescending laugh, Don Bevitore spouted out a few more mocking words as the two men shivered in terror, before the mafia boss raised his gun and pointed it downward.

In his position by the wall, Yamamoto faltered for a moment. Certainly, he was no stranger to blood and death, and he'd been behind the trigger countless times himself. However, he thought grimly, Tsuna wouldn't like hearing that two innocent people had been killed under his watch. So, with a soft sigh, Yamamoto pushed his chair back, a long, scraping noise filling up the tense silence, and stood, swinging his Shigure Kintoki over his shoulder in a single, fluid motion.

The sudden movement and the odd sound caught Don Bevitore's attention, and he swung his head around, eyes narrowed, gun still pointed at his targets. "Who're you?" he demanded, glaring at the scarred swordsman that stared back at him with a bored look.

Without a word, Yamamoto took a few strides forward, and as if threatened, Bevitore sputtered out, "Don't move! I'll shoot you!"

As if on cue, all the men loitering around him snapped to attention and trained their guns onto Yamamoto's figure.

Forcing an easy smile onto his face, Yamamoto raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, whoa, calm down!" he laughed, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a few sheets of paper. "I'm from the Vongola," the rain guardian said, striding forward as he spoke, "And I'm just here to ask you to finalize the alliance contract from the meeting a month ago."

There, Yamamoto thought, letting out a small breath. Done.

Suddenly, multiple clicks echoed through the tavern, and Yamamoto found that instead of the bodyguards relaxing their holds, they aimed at him with even more ferocity. With a look of pure disgust, Don Bevitore swung his gun around and faced Yamamoto.

"Fuck off," he snarled, and Yamamoto very nearly rolled his eyes. "I don't give a damn about the Vongola! Why do you think I was drunk during that meeting? As if I'd align myself with some snot-nosed brat that thinks he can boss everyone around!"

In resentment, the Don spat on the ground and swiftly pulled the trigger. With a satisfied smile, he shot a few more times in spite and as he was about to relax, he felt cold metal press on the skin of his neck.

A large, black ribbon fluttered to the ground, and all around it, men in suits thudded to the floor, eyes rolled up to the whites and saliva trickling down their chins. Yamamoto, a dark, looming shadow, stood behind Bevitore, and Shigure Kintoki was settled comfortably in the palm of his hand.

With a soft hiss, Yamamoto tightened his grip on the sword, and pressed the silver blade harder. A trickle of blood ran down Bevitore's neck. Hands trembling, sweat rolling down his face, Bevitore's gun clattered to the floor and he stood as still as a statue.

"You know," Yamamoto said mildly, the dark aura still rolling off him, "I like it better when potential allies don't shoot at me." Saying so, he slightly slid the blade, and blood flowed out like a small creek.

"W-wait!" the shivering man demanded, "Wait! D-don't move the sword!"

He seemed to be spitting out every word between gritted teeth, and Yamamoto raised an eyebrow at the plea.

Releasing a deep breath, the man said with a confidence that Yamamoto immediately identified as false, "How about I make you an offer? Join my familiga, guardian of Vongola!" Bevitore licked his lips nervously and glanced down at the gleaming blade that had not moved away from his throat.

"Join my familiga- I'll no doubt pay you more then that Vongola brat! And, and you'll have access to the best facilities, the highest class of wine, the best women in the country…" and on and on he rambled, paying no attention to the peeved expression on the guardian's face.

With a roll of his eyes, Yamamoto let the honey-soaked words roll off the man's tongue, and after a few minutes of listening to the arrogant chatter, Yamamoto's eyes narrowed and his lips quirked up into a strange smile. Having felt the sudden change in atmosphere, Bevitore faltered, swallowing his promises.

"W-wait!" the Don stuttered, wiping his sweaty palms on his impeccable suit. As his hands shook from Yamamoto's darkening aura, his Adam's apple bobbed as he fished for words before he opened his mouth. A note of anger filled his voice as he spoke again, saying. "Think about, guardian of Vongola. What will that brat ever do for you? Why is he so worth following? He's just a fool that-"

A loud cracking noise echoed eerily throughout the still silent building, and in the next moment, Don Bevitore was groaning painfully in a pile of overturned chairs. Shigure Kintoki gleamed dangerously underneath the dim lighting, and Bevitore froze in fear. Then, in one swift motion, Yamamoto idly picked up the fallen scabbard and sheathed his blade, securing the weapon onto his back.

"Well," he said, cracking a grin at Bevitore's terrified expression. "It looks like there won't be any contract signing today."

The mafia don's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Sighing heavily, Yamamoto slowly spun around, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He walked a few steps before stopping. Bevitore could not see the rain guardian's face, but the young man's posture was straight and his limbs relaxed. Swallowing nervously, the man waited for Yamamoto to move.

"Well," Yamamoto said suddenly, "You asked…you asked why I follow him. Tsuna, that is."

Still facing away from the mafia don, Yamamoto let out a slight huff, eyes falling shut and lips curling up into a quiet smile.

He was the only one that bothered, bothered to look underneath the glory, the fame, the fake skin I wore. He saw me for who I really was, and reached out for me, even when everyone around him sneered and taunted. He taught me how to keep on living.

"Why you ask?" The rain guardian turned, fixing the stunned Bevitore with a cool gaze.

"Because he is my sky."

FIN Chapter 1


A/N: At least it didn't take a year for me to get this up, haha…

Here is a revised version of the first chapter because the first version wasn't too great. Hopefully this rewrite is better, if only somewhat.

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