July 1940 - Insecurity

He fiddled with the ring in his hand, anxiously watching the clock tick closer to eight. What if he changed his mind? What if he didn't want to travel such a long distance to visit some schoolteacher?

Sighing, he tugged on the hem of his tie. Hibari wouldn't leave or forget their rendezvous. He wouldn't. He would have telephoned if he couldn't come. At least that's what he told himself as the tea grew colder by the passing hour.

As the tapping on the wooden door echoed in his quiet home, he jumped and opened the door with such vigor, the raven still held his hand in the air ready to knock again. Eyes widening fractionally, Tsuna couldn't help but just voice his thoughts out loud. "You're late." Hibari tensed, his eyes glinting with unspoken guilt and irritation.

"I know, herbivore. The trains were used to transport others and steel in other locations."

He noted the Skylark's disheveled appearance, his passant proclaiming Major General, accompanied by his helmet tucked delicately under his arm.

"I thought you forgot."

The older man snorted, before the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk. "I never forget my…affairs,'' he said flatly, before elegantly shrugging off his khaki jacket, finely tailored to fit his body. Tsuna opened the door wider, welcoming the other with childish excitement. Hibari nodded, before leaving his helmet on the stand. He followed the brunet into his room, taking in his appearance. He hadn't seen Tsuna since he left, and he had to admit, seeing him ignited a fire of intrigue and want. He wanted to know what the younger man was up to, and how the war was affecting the home territory and his teaching career.

Instead of enlisting in the military like Hibari did (he was actually obligated to, since his family was quite privileged), Tsuna decided to become a schoolteacher, even if it meant looking foolish to others. The brunet despised warfare, despised violence, absolutely loathed resorting or willingly harming anybody or anything. He refused to indulge himself in the fights of others, and Hibari respected that.

His suit was pristine, and he was the embodiment of professional, Tsuna took his role as a teacher very seriously. The only ambiguity of his appearance was his hair, the untamable and fiery nature of it.

Just like him.

"I have to brew more tea,'' Tsuna said cheerfully, reheating the already cold liquid onto the stove.

"Aren't you going to run out of your rations? It's presumably wiser to drink what has already been made,'' he replied, settling himself on the tatami and watching the other with mild amusement. Tsuna frowned, before chuckling and sitting himself.

"I'm twenty-five, I know what I'm doing. Perhaps you should enlighten me on what's going on with your life, Major General. It's been a little chaotic here, especially with the food shortages."

"The Germans have invaded France. And Indochina is completely under our control. Railways are being expanded to transport supplies and men. I have bitten many to death,'' he murmured shortly. He was honestly tired of the constant crowding, the dependence on his comrades, especially since he wasn't exactly 'cooperative'. Needless to say, that is what made him rise quickly in rank, having an entire brigade under his command. Yet, he felt no satisfaction. Nothing.

He felt no victory watching a comrade willingly plunge into the enemy's tank, dying in a fiery explosion as his suicide was followed by many others, in the name of Japan.

Nor did he feel smug as countless men ignored the screams of Chinese women as they were brutally raped, their children's deaths following thereafter. The Americans, who cried to be released, or the Germans boasting of the annihilation of 'Judes.' It was all pointless. It was a bittersweet irony, for he was quite known to be violent and fond of crushing his enemies underfoot, relishing the fact that there was no opponent strong enough to retaliate. He was fifteen then, and foolish, not that he would ever admit it.

But fighting a war that was not his and commanding men to their untimely deaths was tiring.

And Tsuna, well, he was always there. A constant. A never ending being of marvel and infinitely paradoxical. A man who voiced his thoughts, spat at what he deemed unjust, and sang his whims.

He never tired of staring at him, watching his lips curl into an amused smile, or like now, watching his eyes darken at the mention of the war, his frown resembling a pout that should not befit a man in his twenties.

Tsuna shook his head in dismay, noticing the man's sharp tone, unaware of the other's deep musings. "Hibari-san, when do you think this is all going to be over? There's no need for this. You're being careful right, not doing anything stupid?"

Hibari scoffed, before folding his hands neatly on the small table. "Unless the enemy is completely bitten to death, I will no longer provide my services to the war. I do not intend to waste my time. Once victory is declared, then I shall depart and spend the remaining of my time with you. Perhaps move to Europe,'' he uttered darkly, because he had no intention of marrying the woman his family deemed worthy of his courting.

Tsuna stood abruptly, lips pursed, and stance stiff. "I-I don't want to see you…" Die. Leave me waiting for a return that will never happen. Have blood stain the hands that have touched me so…

"I will return."

"How do you know?" How do I know? There was no guarantee when there was a full world war.

"I can't die,'' he murmured simply, fixated on how the younger man curled his fingers elegantly to pour the tea.

"H-Hibari-san, my father was one of the first to die, and I just don't want to see you…" It shamed him that he couldn't complete his sentences, and it absolutely pained him that he couldn't make the man stay. All the times Hibari was granted a leave, it made his heart rush to know that he would be at his doorstep, staring apathetically at civilians, and straightening his uniform. The façade of the heartless soldier would be replaced by the man who was amused to see animals at the park, or watch Namimori at its utmost beauty at dusk. They would drink tea, speak an ocean of nonsense, and satisfy their physical desires, the ghost of their lingering touches haunting them both until they met again.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi, perhaps I have not made myself clear." He also stood, sauntering towards the brunet, noticing with mild amusement as his grip on the tea kettle tightened. Smirking, he placed both hands around the other's waist, towering with intimidation. Leaning down, and noting the shiver as he breathed into Tsuna's ear, he tilted his chin upwards, meeting a caramel gaze. "I will bite the others to death. And once they have been punished, I will gladly return for you."

"I-I have to tell you something,'' Tsuna murmured softly, clasping the raven's hand tight to his chest. Upon noticing the Skylark's expression darkening, he laughed softly. "Nothing serious, I swear!" He added quickly, tracing his finger motionlessly on the expensive and stiff fabric.

"Hn." He took that as a cue to continue.

"I was…fired. And, well, I have no job,'' he breathed out nervously, keeping his gaze on the wall. He did notice the Major General tense, his eyes widening in surprise. He knew Hibari wouldn't initiate or ask him to elaborate, so he supposed revealing the details wouldn't hurt. "I…haven't been fired, I was asked to take a leave for stating that this war is a waste of time. Amusing actually, considering it wasn't my students who reported my defiance, it was Byakuran." The raven growled, but stayed silent. The tea was growing cold once more, and both decided to sit down.

"Where will you go now?"

"America."

"No."

"Why?" Why? Was this herbivore stupid?

"If you have not noticed, and considering that you are quite dense, we are at war. The United States will not allow a Japanese man without regarding him an enemy. Same applies to Germans and Italians," he replied coldly, aware of how naïve and stubborn the teacher was when he set his mind on something. Tsuna scowled, setting his tea down with a clatter.

"Gokudera-kun is there! And so is Yamamoto, both of them say there are plenty of jobs over there. I'll have a place to stay, and people who know me,'' he bit out heatedly. Hibari's glare intensified, as he also placed his tea down, albeit more steadily.

"That may be true, but have you considered how you will be treated."

"I have to go. I just can't stay here and…wait for you to come back,'' he mumbled. Hibari's glare softened, until his mask of indifference was set on his face once more.

"Where?"

"California, but I already have a place to stay. Gokudera-kun is expecting my arrival once I pack. "

"Herbivore…" He wanted to tell him absolutely not. Tell him he was being stupid for even considering such an idea. But he couldn't restrain the man from following his wishes, or starting anew.

Tsuna sighed, the ring in his pocket pressing painfully to his leg. He was tempted to shove it in the drawer and shut the door on Hibari's face. To tell him that he didn't need this constant emotional turmoil. His chest constricted painfully, he won't see Hibari until the war was over. And who knew when that would happen.

You can't hold him back. He has a duty to fulfill; you're just a school teacher—were a schoolteacher—he happens to be very fond of.

I want him. Here. With me.

He was going to America. He had no reason to be in Japan, he could start over in a new country, away from Namimori. Away from the place that haunted him with the raven's absence. It's as if the Skylark left his shadow, Namimori was the embodiment of what he was, and it constantly left an ache. He needed to breathe, needed to breathe where Hibari wasn't there. And by being in Namimori, he was breathing Hibari himself.

It was suffocating and selfish.

But it was very liberating.

Nothing was holding him back. His father was one of the first soldiers to die, his corpse somewhere in the Philippines. Nana had passed once she knew her husband would never come back, her stubbornness resembling that of her son's. She refused to live in a world where Iemitsu no longer existed.

And Tsuna refused to breathe the air Hibari had breathed many times. And now he's hanging on to the raven's every word, absorbing the twitch of his brow, and plunging in the blue grey depths that swallowed him every time.

"I will be relocating to China. I do not know how long I will be stationed there. We have set sights to the Dutch East Indies. And we are expecting the imports of American oil,'' he said, his voice emotionless and flat.

"W-What? You're leaving again? I thought that—"

"I apologize, that is why I came here personally to tell you. I will look for you in America."

And that is when he felt the older man's beating heart, the scent of smoke and lavender invading his senses, his hands tangling into the other's hair. "I'll wait for you, Hibari-san." Without hesitating, he fished the ring out of his pocket, the expensive metal glinting. The carving of a cloud was engraved delicately, as he slipped it in the raven's grasp. Hibari blinked, as Tsuna pulled out a second ring, an image of what was clearly the sky. "I want you to remember me when you're gone. Or when you are in a…difficult situation, I can always be your escape." Think of me in the depths of your despair. "Please be careful."

"Hn. Of course."

"I'll wait for you,'' he repeated, noting how the Skylark had already put the ring on with a bright smile. "I'll start a business, my brother started one and he's pretty successful. And everything will be fine,'' he mused, stroking the other's hair as he lay his head on his lap. The tea was long forgotten, and both basked in each other's company, knowing that a departure was inevitable.

He would be the one leaving Hibari behind. And will be the one waiting for him.

And he longed for that future to be in the raven's arms again.

Where he knew Hibari would not ever leave his side.

.

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December 8, 1941 – The Key

.

.

He felt the ring swing idly on the chain; he no longer wore the ring on his finger, but as a small necklace.

Humming as he made his way to the roadway, he was glad Gokudera woke him up early. Tsuna sighed, glancing at the clouds, that ugly ache rearing its head. Hibari-san.

I wonder what you're up to.

And that is when chaos erupted.

Japan Wars On U.S. And Britain; Makes Sudden Attack On Hawaii; Heavy Fighting At Sea Reported

1,500 Killed In Raid!

Everywhere he went, he was looked at with ire and hate, but the feeling he hated seeing most, was fear.

His store was small, clientele varying from local farmers and businessmen looking for a cigar to smoke. He started noticing his profits dropping drastically each week, only two customers per day. The shifted glares and uneasy glances made his skin crawl.

Two months later, with the occasional brawl or assault became a regular occurrence. He stopped fighting back, didn't even flinch when he was spat upon. It was…upsetting to say the least. He was glad Gokudera was there most of the time to fight them off.

May 1942

He wanted to speak to Hibari. He wanted to touch him, feel his calloused firm hands thread through his hair, see him drink tea as his lips curled into a small self-satisfied frown.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. And whoever said that, was damn right. It angered him when his heart stopped when he mistook a stranger for the raven. Or when the weather was exceptionally beautiful, the clouds swirling in the sky, a cosmic feeling settling in his chest.

And he thought of him only when he was told that his store would have to be sold or left behind as he was to be sent to a relocation center. He was one of the lucky ones, he had two weeks to take what he needed. Others only had three days. The President had passed a law, or something. Executive Order 9066, and before he knew it, he was being questioned.

"It is for the safety of all Japanese civilians."

"I am an American citizen!"

He muted the cries of despair, numbness enveloping him.

"Everything will be okay." Everything will be okay. Everything will be okay. Everything will be okay.

Hibari-san is okay. I will be…fine. He hauled his luggage, registering his name to one of the officials. After being assigned his barrack, which resembled a horse's stable more than anything else, he swept the hay and scraped the dry manure off the walls. The ring felt cold against his chest. He left Japan to be free. But he's a caged animal again, just a different place and there was no Hibari to say "I told you so."

"I'm okay."

He didn't know how much longer he could believe that lie, but everything was bearable.

.

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February 1945- Unlock

For the first time, he felt an emotion besides anger. Besides satisfaction.

Namimori…Namimori was gone. The scars left behind from air raids would never scab.

The sky was a dark gray, the clouds bleeding and woven distortedly. Sawada Tsunayoshi.

Holding the ring and feeling the etched design, he renounced his affiliation to Imperial Japan. He felt no need to bite anyone to death.

"May I ask where you wish to travel?"

"America. To California."

The air had a different scent to that of Japan. And it was irritatingly hot. He ignored the stares from the civilians, his purpose of finding him more potent than anything else. His sense of purpose was stronger than ever before. The faces he saw blurred, he wanted to clash and sink into brown eyes. Run his fingers through soft tresses, and smell the blend of peaches and green tea.

It never ceased to surprise him how much that man affected him. It irked him to see the litter on streets, graffiti sprayed on every wall. Not that he could do anything about it. He needed to find him.

"Excuse me, do you know the location of The Vongola?" The raven's English was fluent, the language easily rolled by his tongue. The old man looked up, frowning.

"Do you mean the store? It's three blocks away, down the dead end. It's closed though,'' he answered tiredly, his Italian accent heavy. The clerk's nametag said Timoteo in small black letters

"Closed?"

"Well, it was vandalized, the owner was asked to go to the relocation centers, all Japanese men had to go. So it's abandoned now." The man's eyes looked away, as he quivered and tightened his hold on his cane. "I knew the boy. It was a shame to see him go, I haven't seen him since the releasing,'' he murmured thoughtfully.

"Is Yamamoto Takeshi still there?"

"Yes, the man is drowned in melancholy. His friend Hayato passed. He should be at the shop, probably reclaiming the property."

Without another word, he strolled towards his destination, a tightening of his chest making walking a difficulty. What if Tsuna isn't there? Relocation camp? All Japanese men asked to leave their businesses?

As he walked further, he finally read the graffiti.

No Japs allowed.

JAPS NOT WELCOME

GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM.

JAPS KEEP MOVING, THIS IS A WHITE MAN'S NEIGHBORHOOD.

His stomach dropped, as he finally saw the street.

It was desolate, houses in obvious vacancy, businesses boarded up heavily with wood.

Several newspapers scurried and flapped in the wind.

JAPANESE ATTACK PEARL HARBOR.

JAPANESE NOT TO BE TRUSTED?

Clenching his fists, he finally saw the tall man watering the plants, the dry leaves withered and swaying as the water was poured incessantly over.

"Yamamoto Takeshi."

Said man looked up, his face morphing into one of confusion. Confusion turned to surprise and recognition, weariness palpitating in waves. "Hibari-san,'' he greeted, the usual cheer replaced by a mere monotone. The wind picked up as he stood, the wood creaking under his weight. The store's awnings sagged, the sign reading PROPERTY CONDEMNED. NO TRESPASSERS.

"Where is Sawada Tsunayoshi?" He said lowly, noticing Tsuna's woven curtains faded and torn. Yamamoto stared blankly, his already dull eyes darkening. The bags under his eyes were prominent, his hair shaggy and trimmed messily. There was a sadness lingering in the man, that bright cheery demeanor he remembered seeing so frequently in Namimori lost.

"Tsuna?'' The name rolled as if unfamiliar, his voice rasped. "You're looking for Tsuna?" Yamamoto placed the pail down, as if he remembering a vague figment that never existed. He appeared to be lost, dumbfounded that Tsuna was not here. Disoriented.

"Yes. I will not repeat myself,'' he growled impatiently, his temper reaching its peak.

Yamamoto wet his lips, opening his mouth but unable to form words. "He—He's…Tsuna…he died."

It was an odd sensation. It wasn't comparable to anything else, other than complete weightlessness and a distant ringing in his ears. Dead.

No. It echoed and changed everything.

"—was shot."

He couldn't have left. He's gone, but Tsuna would probably go down swinging. He was six feet under the ground and so stupidly…naive. Six feet away from where they could reunite in an embrace, and thread fingers together and drink tea, admire nature and just live. The ring felt suffocating, the ring felt indescribably heavy, it was the only physical thing that untied them. He—No. There is no need for denial. But his death couldn't just be because Tsuna promised. It was…impossible. The paradox he so wanted to unravel, the muse and whims, it was just completely gone.

His laugh was—

"—trying to protect this girl. Her name is Kyoko, she was about to be taken away from her daughter."

He couldn't breathe this rage away. The sky was gray. Yamamoto stared at him with concern.

The herbivore was so stupid—

"—defended her and tried to stop the authorities. And then some farmers got involved. He—he was beaten and exiled to the detention center."

—and brave.

He needed to see him, that's what he came for. Wasn't he supposed to be brewing tea? Wasn't he supposed to be here, yelling at him that it was about time he got there? That it was impolite to leave a man waiting.

"And then Gokudera…" There was a sharp intake of breath. "Gokudera also got involved, and I was notified of their defiance."

The mask he had carved for so long crumbled into absolute stoicism, his narrowed slate blue eyes darkening to a pitch black.

Why was the baseball herbivore lying to him?

The war. The bombing of Pearl Harbor, retreating from the island, shots fired, Japan in ruins. "I'll wait for you."

Liar.

No, Tsuna never left. He was breathing, he was smiling somewhere. He just needed to find him. Needed to feel the loud beating of his heart, or see the heat that rushed to his face whenever they kissed and Hibari showed simple signs of affection.

He just…

He should have known. Herbivores die.

"He's buried in Fresno, we paid for the services. I can take you…if you want." Yamamoto held back the wavering of his voice. "He's buried next to…Hayato. I'll—I'll go with you. I—I need to see Hayato." It seemed as if the other male hadn't uttered the silver-haired man's name in such a long time, because it was whispered in a way that a name should never be.

"Please be careful."

"…Everything will be fine."

His hand twitched. He wanted to bite someone to death. To bite them.

Hard. Bite everything.

Tsuna's voice won't go away, and he can't bring himself to make him go away. He lost track of time as they passed fields, passed places Tsuna would like to stop and linger at. "I really think we should stop and smell the roses, Hibari-san? Are you even listening to me?"

Yes. He will always listen.

"Then you should admire the scenery. It's not every day you visit another country."

Yamamoto was silent, his eyes downcast. He admired the raven's self-control, admired the brave mask and ice cold composure. But he knew that all masks could slip off, and crack, ensuring destruction.

Sawada Tsunayoshi

Born October 14, 1915

Died August 1, 1942

The sky would no longer be within his reach. He did not feel invincible, as he once did. Especially when there was no opponent to face. In the end, it was his ignorance that blinded him. And for once, it felt wrong to feel right. The future was unforeseeable, all of the decisions rippled to this outcome. "Or when you are in a…difficult situation, I can always be your escape."

Difficult situation? He could feel the soft tussle of brown hair on the edge of his fingertips, hear the childish whispers of his name, the heat and warmth when he felt the other's tentative touches. His lips twitched into an almost noticeable smile. His slate blue eyes cleared. He felt more alive than ever before. Tsuna was here. Six feet away from him. And it was more than what he ever wanted.

The engraving on the headstone was done. Permanent. And Tsuna never was. After witnessing the countless deaths under his command, it was more jarring to be on the other end.

You were always my escape.