Katekyo Hitman Reborn! is the rightful property of Amano Akira. This is a fanwork written purely for both your entertainment and mine.
Written for springkink on LJ, for the following prompt: March 26; Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, Gokudera/Yamamoto: dirty and sweaty - gentle responses at unexpected moments.
My eternal gratitude goes to my friend Ranty_Rie for helping me with this fic. Without her excellent advice and constant, epic proofreading abilities, this fic would never have been finished.
The first two weeks after Tsuna died were like living through the worst that Hell could have ever hoped to offer. The Vongola were scattered, in complete disarray, and at that point in time none of the Guardians felt strong enough to try and implement any sort of order. Everything felt rushed and panicked, accusations people didn't really mean sparked arguments between allies, and stress put everyone on a knife's edge.
Everyone dealt with grief in a different way; Hibari showed no outward grief, and instead rededicated himself to researching the boxes, choosing vengeance over mourning. Chrome had sobbed for what seemed like days, losing her self-control whenever she had to look anyone in the eyes, reacting to their sadness with her own. Lambo had managed to refrain from crying in front of anyone else, but his maturity and politeness seemed more strained with every passing day. Ryohei had given up on trying to cheer everyone else up, having realised there was no point when he himself was still so obviously shaken. Yamamoto had stayed silent for days, barely eating and willing himself to calm.
There was no use in denying that Gokudera had taken Tsuna's death the hardest. He was the right hand man; the one that was supposed to be there for the Boss at all times, the one that was supposed to protect and serve, the one that was supposed to take the bullet. It was no secret that he blamed himself, no matter how much they tried to reassure him that there was no way he could have stopped them; he had risked his life through the act of bringing back Tsuna's body with him. When Yamamoto had cornered Gokudera in his bedroom and tried to thank him for that, knowing it was what Tsuna would have wanted, the shorter man had scowled and turned his back on him. Yamamoto had left shortly after that, one final, fleeting glance over his shoulder more telling than any words that could have passed between them as he watched Gokudera bury his face in both hands.
If any of them had been getting anywhere close to recovery, it was ruined by the time Tsuna's funeral came around later that week.
Chrome, Nana, Haru, Kyoko, Lambo and Fuuta wore their hearts on their sleeves, sobbing openly until their grief became something far beyond what tears could express. Hibari sat calmly throughout the ceremony, almost drawing the anger of the other Guardians until they noticed the dark rings around his eyes, the unnatural tenseness of his jaw. None of them bothered to apologize, and they doubted Hibari would care if they did. Tsuna had always been the one that was able to read them all like open books, and they knew there was no point in trying to learn how; it was something that was simply Tsuna, through and through.
Dino Cavallone flew in from Italy for the funeral, muttering under his breath in his native tongue as he approached the casket to honor his fallen brother. Ryohei sat on Yamamoto's right, looking strained in every sense of the word; he was due to fly out to Italy that afternoon, barely leaving him time to grieve. Gokudera sat on his left, his attempt at a strong front as transparent and fragile as glass. There were people who Yamamoto knew well, others he vaguely recalled from their days in school, and many he didn't know at all. He wondered how he could have ever said that he knew Tsuna well, and then crushed the feeling of regret blossoming in his chest, before it could grow and overtake him like a parasite in his blood.
The six Guardians sat side-by-side in the front row of the church Tsuna's parents had chosen to farewell their only child in, and Yamamoto couldn't help but feel that their mutual failure to protect him was on display.
After the ceremony, the six of them carried the white coffin down to the hearse and stood back as Nana touched the top of it - a final goodbye - and then the car drove away, taking it to its final resting place.
Yamamoto frowned, staring at the sky and wondering if he'd ever see it as any colour but pure black again.
He was one of the few people who'd ever know that the coffin they'd wept over was completely empty.
Two weeks after Tsuna's funeral, everyone began forcing themselves back into back into their usual routines. Yamamoto had been sitting at his desk for the past two days, compiling reports that Tsuna had asked him for before he died. Yamamoto still felt satisfied whenever he finished one, despite the fact that he had no idea who he was going to hand it to at the end of the day. As he finished the report he was working on and set it to the side, his eyes landed on the small post-it note attached to the top of the next paper. Tsuna's rough handwriting was scrawled across the top of it, and Yamamoto was somewhere between amused and heartbroken.
Yamamoto,
Could you please double-check the information on this report, and then pass it on to Gokudera?
Tsuna had scribbled the time and date he had written the note in the top left-hand corner; 11:48pm, on the night before he died.
It was probably the last thing he had ever written.
Yamamoto's eyes scanned the papers the post-it had been attached to, but he couldn't say he was paying much attention anymore. After skimming over the document for the third time, he peeled the note from the report and placed it in the top drawer of his desk, feeling like he was in a living dream, a waking nightmare.
It seemed strange even as he thought it, but he felt the urge to preserve the last thing his boss had requested of him. The last thing that wasn't run or please stay strong for each other, at the very least.
Doing as the note had asked him seemed like it would serve as an adequate distraction. Picking up the papers carefully, Yamamoto slid them back into the manila folder they'd been delivered in and headed out into the empty corridor that led to all of their bedrooms. His footsteps echoed as he walked the ten steps between his bedroom door and Gokudera's; the base seemed unnaturally quiet without Tsuna, as if his death had killed any life that had once existed within the safety of the complex's walls. With their boss and friend's passing had come uncertainty, and an unsettling feeling of dread. Many people associated with the Vongola family had already fled from Namimori and the surrounding area. Although they, the six guardians, and those close to Tsuna had remained for a longer time than most others, the stress was starting to bear down on all of them.
Chrome often left the safety of the Vongola base to visit Kokuyo, and although they worried about her, they knew they had no right to try and stop her from doing what she wanted. She could hold her own if the need arose. Shortly after the funeral, Hibari had left without a word, although that was hardly surprising; he only spent a minimal amount of time "crowding" with the rest of them, anyway. All they could hope was that if he ran into any trouble, it was the sort of trouble he could handle alone.
It was then that Yamamoto realised he'd been standing in front of Gokudera's door for the past couple of minutes, spare hand resting on the doorknob but not bothering to twist it. He chuckled roughly under his breath, thinking that if people had actually been around to see him, they would've thought he'd lost it.
Perhaps he had, but if that was the case, at least he was still sane enough to realise it.
He removed his hand from the handle of the Storm Guardian's bedroom door, thinking that it might actually be more polite to knock. Upon doing so he got no response, and he tried once more before entering the room of his own accord.
Gokudera wasn't there.
He had no idea where he'd gone, but the base was huge, and he could have been anywhere inside of it. Or outside of it.
The knee-jerk reaction was a bad one; the thought that three of the Guardians had seemingly distanced themselves made Yamamoto's stomach twist itself into knots. Upon second thought, he realised that it couldn't have been as bad as it appeared. Chrome had ties to Kokuyo, and she had gone there on a regular basis even before Tsuna's death. Hibari had never been the sort to tether himself to any person, and his behaviour was far from abnormal.
As for Gokudera, he would not dishonor Tsuna's memory by running. It seemed ridiculous to consider; Tsuna had been his Boss, his best friend, the first person to give him a sense of worth. He would stay and fight for justice for him until the bitter end.
Yamamoto left the manila folder on Goudera's desk. He'd found a blank piece of paper in the top drawer of the desk, and written 'Tsuna wanted you to check these' out of habit before realising that it didn't feel right to word it that way.
He tore the top half of the paper off and crumpled it in his fist, stuffed it into his pocket and rewrote the note as 'These need to be checked'.
He made it back to his own room before he let the stress and horror of the last few weeks overtake him, if only for a couple of minutes.
He'd lost his boss, his sense of security, his friend.
Please stay strong for each other.
Yamamoto was trying, but it was harder than he could have ever imagined.
It was another three days until Yamamoto saw Gokudera. He'd headed into the kitchen to grab a glass of water after waking up, panicked and sweating, and started when he'd seen the tiny glow of a cigarette in the otherwise pitch-black kitchen.
"Calm down, idiot," Gokudera's voice rang out through the darkness.
"Oh, sorry," Yamamoto chuckled roughly, voice free of mirth. He switched on the lights as he entered the room, and Gokudera scowled as his eyes strained against the brightness.
The shorter man was sitting on the table, a packet of cigarettes in his right hand and an ash tray in his left. He looked as though he hadn't slept for days, and had almost certainly lost weight. It was hardly a surprise, considering the circumstances, but it still made Yamamoto's chest ache with worry and regret.
"Did you get the papers I left for you?"
"Yeah," Gokudera paused to exhale a mouthful of smoke, "They're fine."
"Good," Yamamoto responded awkwardly, unsure what to say after that. Gokudera didn't seem to notice, and sat in silence as he finished off the cigarette between his lips and grabbed another from the packet in his hand.
"I know it's not any of my business..." Yamamoto started, and Gokudera looked at him so sharply that he almost stopped, "But where have you been going the past few days?"
Gokudera turned away, shrugged. Yamamoto was already wishing he hadn't said anything, but concern for his friend won over the strange, new awkwardness that seemed to have developed between them all since Tsuna had died.
"The Millefiore have been getting more active around here. I think they're already aware that this base is hidden somewhere around here, but who knows how long we've got until we figure it out?"
"Probably not long," Yamamoto responded, his voice grave, "The sooner we can warn everyone to hide themselves, the better the chance we'll have at preventing any casualties."
"With any luck, they'll be still alive by the time the warning reaches them," Gokudera replied.
"Oi, Gokudera," Yamamoto began, and Gokudera hummed around his cigarette in acknowledgement, "Have you been to check on Tsuna's coffin in the last few days?"
Gokudera didn't respond to that, so Yamamoto could only assume he was right.
He crossed the room and opened the refrigerator, strangely aware of Gokudera's eyes on him. Just as Yamamoto began to feel sure that Gokudera wasn't even going to acknowledge his existence from hereon in, the Storm Guardian spoke.
"I don't want them to find him, Yamamoto."
Yamamoto turned around and looked at Gokudera sideways. Gokudera took a long drag on his newly-lit cigarette and glanced over at Yamamoto.
"I don't want anything else to happen to him."
"I know," Yamamoto replied, feeling like he was about to throw up at the mere thought of what would happen if the Millefiore found the body of their Boss.
"When he made me his right-hand man," Gokudera continued, "I swore that I'd never let him die before I did. I'd take the bullet, I'd jump in front of a goddamn truck, I'd be ready to trade my life for his."
"Tsuna wouldn't have wanted you to do that," Yamamoto replied, "You know he didn't want that. And what difference would your death have made?"
Gokudera just shrugged, staring at the wall; Yamamoto frowned.
"He was my friend too, Gokudera. And I know he wouldn't have blamed any of us. He never did and he never would have. You know that."
"That doesn't stop anyone else from blaming us," Gokudera said, and Yamamoto blinked.
"I don't blame you. If we'd stood our ground and tried to fight them, we wouldn't have made it out alive," Yamamoto stated evenly, "Do you blame me?"
"No," Gokudera replied, with no hesitation, "But you..."
"Weren't his right-hand man?" Yamamoto finished, and Gokudera nodded stiffly, "That doesn't matter. I would have died for him ten times over, but you know there was no way we could have stopped them in time."
"We shouldn't have trusted them in the first place, but the Tenth seemed to think they deserved a chance to make amends for the 'accidents' in Italy," Gokudera murmured, and Yamamoto shook his head and sighed a long, tired sigh.
"Tsuna always was like that."
"The Tenth saw the good in everyone," Gokudera affirmed, a small, bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Yamamoto watched his friend and fellow Guardian as the smile faded from his face, and then as he took a long drag on his cigarette.
"You know what I was told after I found out how my mother died?"
Yamamoto shook his head, and realised he felt numb all over.
"They told me that all you can do when someone dies is to keep going, to try and be happy," Gokudera laughed bitterly, "And all I could think was how goddamn hard it was to be happy at a time like that. And now I know it doesn't get any easier as you get older."
Yamamoto couldn't think of a comeback to that one, so he kept his mouth shut. Gokudera didn't seem to take this as any sort of victory. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, Yamamoto rubbed his eyes and laughed, a decidedly rough edge in his voice.
"I guess it never will, right?"
"No, it won't."
And with that, Gokudera slid off the table and walked out of the room, flicking off the light as he went, leaving Yamamoto in complete, solitary darkness.
It was Tsuna's wish not to be buried or cremated until the traditional mourning period had passed by; he'd told both Yamamoto and Gokudera that on no uncertain terms. They had not questioned him about that in the slightest, and only interrupted when he began starting ever sentence with 'when I die'.
"What do you mean by 'when', Tenth?" Gokudera asked.
"Surely you mean 'if', right?" Yamamoto followed up.
Tsuna just looked at each of them in turn and told them that everybody dies eventually.
"Yeah, but you're talking like you're about to drop dead on us in the next five minutes," Yamamoto laughed weakly. Talk of death was common in the world they lived in. Talk of imminent death was something entirely different.
"Please don't worry too much, you two," Tsuna smiled, "I'm not planning on dying just yet."
"I would protect you, Tenth," Gokudera responded fiercely.
"We both would," Yamamoto added, instinctively moving closer to Tsuna and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I know you would," Tsuna replied, "But I don't know how I could live with myself if either of you died for me."
"Tsuna, you're our boss."
"And you're my friends," Tsuna replied, and there was an edge to his voice now, somewhere between authority and pleading.
Yamamoto realised they were between a rock and a hard place, and nodded slowly.
Gokudera looked pained as he forced out an 'if that's what the Tenth wants'.
Tsuna nodded and genuinely smiled at the both of them, and Yamamoto convinced himself to ignore the uneasy feeling the conversation had left in his stomach.
Two weeks later, they met with the Millefiore, and Tsuna was struck down with an attack that no one had seen coming.
The last of their friend's life seemed to ebb away far too quickly, even as they managed to break away from the crossfire for a moment in order to inspect his wounds.
Yamamoto knew very little about medicine, but on seeing the deep wounds on Tsuna's chest and seeing how much of his blood was seeping onto their hands as they tried to apply pressure to the wounds, he knew the situation was more dire than any they had been in before.
"No," he heard Gokudera rasp under his breath, and he turned to see the Storm Guardian shaking his head and trembling with the effort of applying pressure to Tsuna's chest.
"Gokudera, Yamamoto..." Tsuna gasped, blood reddening the corners of his mouth.
"Don't talk, Tsuna," Yamamoto said, and his voice didn't sound like his own.
"I wanted to tell you this... while I still have the chance."
Tsuna took a deep breath, and it seemed to drain what little was left of his strength.
"Please stay strong for each other."
An explosion barely a meter away brought them back to reality, and Tsuna gasped shallowly and coughed up a mouthful of blood. Gokudera swore loudly and scooped Tsuna up into his arms, and Yamamoto instinctively ran behind him, shielding the two of them from any attacks from the rear.
And they could do was try to talk to Tsuna to keep him conscious, and Yamamoto felt blinding panic ache in his chest when Tsuna stopped replying.
By the time they'd reached another place that even felt remotely safe, Tsuna was dead.
Yamamoto fought against the bile rising his throat, but the smell of smoke and blood and death was too heavy in the air for him to overcome and he stumbled away and gagged, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.
He wasn't surprised when he finally heard Gokudera scream and begin to sob dryly behind him.
Days later, the two men could still smell blood everywhere they went, even after scrubbing their skin raw.
Yamamoto was becoming sure that it was something that would never leave them.
The next day, Yamamoto accompanied Gokudera to Tsuna's coffin.
The first thing Yamamoto did upon stepping outside for the first time in weeks was to stare upward, and he noted with bitter irony that the sky was still dark.
"You don't have to come, you know," Gokudera had muttered, but he hadn't objected when Yamamoto had followed him out to the chauffered car and silently slid into the back seat next to him.
After they had gone through with Tsuna's funeral and watched the people who had loved him crying over an empty coffin, the first thing they'd done upon returning to the base was to decide on a location to place the dark-coloured coffin that actually held their boss's body in order to allow time for the traditional mourning period. The six Guardians had eventually agreed on a small, secluded area of woodland just outside of the center of Namimori; the place where they had met with each other before Tsuna had died and destroyed the Vongola rings.
They'd moved Tsuna's coffin under the cover of night, and upon clearing the ground around them, they placed the coffin down and silently payed their respects. Lambo had been the first of the Guardians to offer to both guard the coffin and mourn for his fallen boss, but Yamamoto was positive that Gokudera had taken up that job as much as he could since that day, and he knew he only came home when someone else came to relieve him and told him to go and rest.
Gokudera smoked and leaned against the armrest of the dark-coloured car that was transporting them, watching Yamamoto take in their surroundings through the tinted window with a frown on his face.
"The Millefiore know we're around here, you know. We should be more cautious," Yamamoto said, and Gokudera scowled.
"I know that. I've had to evade five Strau Moscas in the past week."
Yamamoto looked down at the chained ring on his finger and then over towards Gokudera, who had gone back to smoking.
"Be careful."
Gokudera's eyes briefly met his own; Yamamoto blinked and then the half-Italian's attention was back on the surrounding area and the smouldering cigarette between his lips.
As soon as they were out of the car, the two of them ran to make use of the cover provided by the nearby trees. Yamamoto was sure he was paranoid, but every sound coming from the forest seemed as if it would lead to them being attacked. Every snapping twig, every rustle of leaves and every whisper of the wind put him on a nervous edge. Gokudera seemed calm, but Yamamoto could tell that he was also unnerved simply by being outside, and he wondered how the hell anyone could have done this for as long as the Storm Guardian had without going mad from paranoia.
They arrived at the location of Tsuna's coffin so suddenly that Yamamoto was sure there had been some sort of illusion protecting the area. It looked completely different from what he'd remembered -- cold and isolated, and void of any life. He felt relieved that his first impression of the location had been wrong; small white flowers drifted down from the overladen branches above their heads, and the world seemed completely quiet. He could hear Gokudera's breathing roughly next to him, and the Storm Guardian stepped forward, kneeled and brushed the fallen petals away from the lid of the coffin with his forearm.
"I'm back, Tenth. And I brought Yamamoto with me."
Yamamoto felt as if he was trying to breathe around a rope around his neck, strangling him, leaving him gasping and choking against the pressure.
"Tsuna..."
Gokudera looked him in the eye for a fleeting moment before he got back to his feet, and moved to lean against one of the nearby trees. Retrieving his cigarettes and lighter from his chest pocket, he lit a fresh smoke and then offered Yamamoto the box.
"You smoke?"
"Not often," Yamamoto replied, but he moved closer and took one of the cigarettes anyway. Gokudera tossed him the lighter, and he lit the smoke, inhaling slowly before releasing the smoke in his lungs and watching it slowly drift up towards the dark sky.
The two men were silent for a while, but Yamamoto didn't feel uncomfortable; in fact, he almost felt safe for the first time since Tsuna had died. He turned to Gokudera and opened his mouth to speak, only to realise that the other man was staring off into the forest, a distant expression on his face. The Rain Guardian coughed awkwardly, and Gokudera almost jumped, startled by the sudden noise.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you," Yamamoto chuckled, and Gokudera frowned.
"You didn't startle me. You're the last person in the world who could ever surprise me," Gokudera grunted, and Yamamoto's grin broadened when Gokudera's frown deepened. "It's been a while since I saw you smile like that."
"Well, as you said... hard to be happy at a time like this."
"Just don't know why you would bother when you're obviously not being genuine about it."
Yamamoto shrugged lightly, and took another drag on his cigarette.
"I think it would've made Tsuna happier to see me try, at least."
Gokudera looked a little shocked at that, and Yamamoto immediately knew he'd said something wrong.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to..."
"Don't apologize," Gokudera scowled, "I know he's gone and he's not coming back."
"Yeah," Yamamoto said, and his chest felt hollow as he spoke.
"And I know he wouldn't have wanted either of us moping around here," Gokudera continued, stubbing out his cigarette on the bark of the tree, "But it's something I have to do."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do," Gokudera spat, gritting his teeth, "I should've been the one to take that attack, not the Tenth."
"We can go through this a hundred times, Gokudera, but I won't tell you anything different," Yamamoto said, impatience clear in his voice, "He didn't want you dead. He made us promise."
"For the Tenth's sake, I would have been willing to break it. You're not his right hand man, bastard. You wouldn't understand," Gokudera replied, looking far angrier than Yamamoto had ever seen him before; this fact only made Yamamoto himself more defensive.
It was wrong of them to do this; both men knew they were beyond exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and there was no point in fighting over something so trivial.
Yamamoto knew, but his brain couldn't reach his mouth in time to prevent himself from retaliating.
"You think Tsuna would have been happier if we'd buried you instead? Is that it? Don't kid yourself. You know that he would have died for all of us a thousand times over! And don't think that being right-hand man means Tsuna meant more to you than any of the rest of us," Yamamoto responded in a growl, grabbing Gokudera's wrist as he raised it to take the cigarette from his lips, "Don't try and pretend that you're the only one he meant something to."
The blow came faster than he could have ever predicted; Yamamoto managed to stumble back and miss the full force of the punch, but he lost his footing against the slipperiness of the forest floor and fell flat on his back. Both of their cigarettes fell to the ground, the remaining embers of the burning tobacco dying out against the dirt. He immediately sat up, arm in front of his face as reflexive defense, but he was surpised to see that Gokudera was already about three feet away from him, covering his face with one hand.
"Hey..."
"I know I'm not the only one who cared about him, idiot!" Gokudera snapped, effectively cutting Yamamoto off, "But if it had been me... if he was still alive now... goddamn it..."
Gokudera turned to face Yamamoto again; the look in the other man's eyes made his chest ache with worry. He brushed the dirt and dead flowers off of himself and got to his feet, adrenaline rushing through his blood in response to the surprise attack. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his heart raced.
"Gokudera."
"Hit me."
Yamamoto almost did a double-take.
"What?"
"You heard me, idiot!" Gokudera snapped, "Hit me!"
Yamamoto breathed evenly through his mouth to calm himself down, and then shut his eyes and shook his head.
"No."
"Why the hell not?!" Gokudera snapped, hand clenching into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, "If the Tenth was here, he wouldn't have wanted me to do that!"
"No," Yamamoto agreed, "He wouldn't have. But if he was still alive, you wouldn't have done it anyway. I know."
Gokudera briefly looked over at the coffin holding their friend's body and winced.
"How the fuck can you still be so calm after all that's happened, idiot?"
"I'm not. Not really," Yamamoto replied, "Punching you back isn't going to make me feel any better... and Tsuna told us to stay for each other. For everyone. And I intend to keep that promise."
"... I couldn't keep that promise," Gokudera muttered, "I've let all of you down."
"I don't think he would have expected any of us to do it this soon," Yamamoto murmured, carefully placing one hand on Gokudera's shoulder; the Storm Guardian allowed it, "He never expected any of us to be made of stone."
There was a brief pause before Gokudera breathed in and out once, slowly, and then turned to the Rain Guardian and looked at him with steely eyes.
"Why the hell do you still put up with me?"
"Because I know that behind the chainsmoking and the anger, you're still a good person who knows how to hurt," Yamamoto murmured with a barely-concealled grin, and Gokudera sighed and averted his eyes to the hand that Yamamoto had firmly placed on his shoulder just moments before. He sighed and grabbed the hand in his own, placing it at Yamamoto's side.
"I guess I owe you both an apology and gratitude."
"Don't worry," Yamamoto smiled briefly, and Gokudera returned the smile, albeit sadly, "I'm sure you'll find a way to repay the favour."
Neither of the two Guardians said another word until Lambo and I-Pin came to take over from them a few hours later. When they arrived back at the Vongola base, Gokudera gave Yamamoto a long, completative look before disappearing into his room and locking the door behind him.
If Gokudera had assumed that Yamamoto hadn't noticed, he'd assumed wrongly.
The day they had destroyed the Vongola rings -- a meager few months before the attack that had killed Tsuna -- was the last day they were all truly together as a group. The next time, if you could count it at all, was their boss's funeral.
They had all known what was coming; Tsuna had contacted them a few days before and told them of his decision to destroy the rings. He was worried they would cause conflict, he'd said, and with attacks by the Millefiore being reported more and more frequently and all evidence pointing to them wanting to gain ownership of the rings, Tsuna had thought that the best course of action was to destroy them.
Hibari had handed his ring over with little ceremony and proceeded to walk a short distance away, effectively separating himself from the "crowding herbivores", as he'd so delicately put it.
"That Hibari..." Gokudera frowned; Tsuna smiled sheepishly, and Yamamoto grinned.
Chrome had been next to hand over her ring.
"It has been an honor working for you, Boss," she said, before walking back through the trees.
"Well, you're not really stopping... nevermind," Tsuna had said as Chrome had disappeared from sight.
Lambo handed his ring over, and only asked if Tsuna was sure he wanted to destroy them once the Thunder ring was securely in his boss's grasp. Tsuna had nodded and affirmative, and Lambo had given a small half-smile in response.
"I trust your judgement, Tsuna."
Ryohei had walked up, told Tsuna he was EXTREMELY unsure about destroying the rings and wanted to make sure that Tsuna was EXTREMELY confident in his decision.
Tsuna had nodded.
"I am."
Ryohei had smiled.
"I know you're making the right choice, Sawada!"
Yamamoto had grinned broadly and thrown an arm around Gokudera when Tsuna had asked them both to hand in their rings.
"We're all friends here, right?" he'd grinned, and Gokudera had responded with a glare, although there was no real threat in his expression.
"Yamamoto, Gokudera..." Tsuna sighed, and Yamamoto had smiled and dropped his ring into Tsuna's palm. Gokudera hesitated for a moment before doing the same.
"I know you wouldn't be doing this without a good reason, Tsuna," Yamamoto said, barely flinching as Gokudera shoved his arm off his own shoulders and looked at Tsuna.
"Tenth, I know you're making the right choice."
"Thank you," Tsuna smiled, and then slipped the Sky ring from his own finger, "And this is the last one. I'll have them all destroyed, and as soon as the replacement rings are ready I'll contact you."
"Thanks, Tsuna," Yamamoto said, replacing the arm that Gokudera had shrugged off his shoulders, much to the Storm Guardian's displeasure, "Will you be coming back with us?"
"No, I'll stay here for a while. Please don't worry about me," Tsuna said when he noticed the looks on their faces.
"If you're sure you'll be safe, Tenth," Gokudera responded, before being steered away by Yamamoto. "Stop it, Yamamoto!"
"I'm sure," Tsuna grinned, waving them off as they headed in the direction of their cars before turning his back on both of them; this made both the Storm and Rain Guardians frown with worry.
As soon as Yamamoto was sure they were out of earshot, he released Gokudera from his grasp and looked at the other man, forehead slightly creased into a frown.
"You noticed too, right?"
"Of course," the Storm Guardian responded, reaching into his front pocket for his smokes, "Something is bothering the Tenth."
"It's more than just the recent attacks," Yamamoto affirmed, "But if it was anything serious, he'd tell us, right?"
"If the Tenth is hiding something from us," Gokuder replied, holding a cigarette between his teeth and digging for his lighter, "There must be a good reason for it."
"Yeah, I suppose so," Yamamoto murmured, "Did you notice anything unusual before now?"
"No," Gokudera replied, with some small degree of impatience, "But we're here to keep the Tenth safe, right? Anyone who's stupid enough to try and harm him will have to go through the two of us."
"Yeah, you're right," Yamamoto grinned broadly, "Tsuna will be safe for as long as we can still fight for him."
Gokudera shut his eyes briefly and smiled just slow enough for Yamamoto to catch it.
Still, the lingering paranoia made them both a little more on edge than usual; both of them had to insist repeatedly that they were fine, even if Tsuna's face after they reassured him for the twentieth time still said that he didn't believe them.
While Tsuna was worrying over them, both Gokudera and Yamamoto were worrying over him. They tried to be more aware of any underlying nuances in Tsuna's words, but they weren't able to read Tsuna as well as Tsuna could apparently read all of them. Nothing seemed out of place until he had started speaking of his own death like it was a shadow looming over his shoulder.
When they had arrived back at the Vongola base with Tsuna's body, they were still as shocked by his death as everyone else, despite everything they had suspected.
They should have seen this coming.
After the death of Tsuna, the constant patrols of the Moscas around Namimori, and after news of attacks on even the lowest-ranking Vongola members being reported every day. It was now perfectly clear to everyone involved that the Millefiore had no intention of letting those that were even barely associated with the Vongola escape.
Haru and Kyoko's families had left town with little ceremony, and Kyoko had been left with the responsibility of telling her brother once he returned from Italy. Gokudera's old apartment had been broken into, ransacked and set alight, despite the fact that he hadn't been anywhere near the place for months. Strange men began lurking around Namimori, and more and more people that their associates had known and cared for began disappearing with no trace. A few days later, they lost contact with Iemitsu and Nana Sawada and some of their best men in Italy were reassigned to searching for their fallen boss's parents.
Barely twenty-four hours after the Sawadas went missing, Lambo and I-Pin had dashed into Yamamoto's room, cheeks pink but otherwise looking extremely pale, and Lambo had uttered words that had filled Yamamoto with dread.
"Yamamoto, your father..."
Yamamoto's hand had been on his katana before the Lightning Guardian had even finished speaking. He heard the two younger Vongola members yelling behind him, but his mind had gone blank and the only thing he could think of was getting to his old man.
It had taken him five minutes to get out of the base and drive to his family's store, not bothering to wait for someone to drive him and speeding the whole way. He parked haphazardly outside of the store and stepped out of the car, his katana a comforting weight in his hand. He wrenched the sword from its sheath, slid the protective casing back through the slightly-open driver's side window, and surveyed the scene. Nothing seemed out of sorts, save for the front door of the store being open, and it was only upon closer inspection that Yamamoto realised that it had been broken away from the door frame.
It was obvious that he was the first Vongola on the scene, and his gut instinct as he stepped through the broken doorway of the shop told him that he wasn't alone.
He barely had time to survey the store before the first attack was unleashed; it was weak, sloppy, and Yamamoto would curse himself later for being taken by surprise and letting the Millefiore thug's blade catch him on the chin. He stumbled away, spare hand instinctively covering the bleeding wound on his face, his other hand blocking the worst of the attack with his katana. His other hand moved to the handle of the sword once he confirmed that the wound wasn't deep, and he overpowered the Millefiore hitman and hit him with a blow to the neck that left him felled and crying out in pain. The screams seemed to rouse the five other Black Spell men that were in other parts of the store, and he immediately found himself being attacked by the men and their battle-ready box animals. He reached for his own box weapon and then realised that his Ring was still bound with the Mammon Chain. Cursing his own stupidity and haste, he swung out wildly with his katana; it was enough to give him time to dive back around the broken door frame and back ouside. He tore the chains from his ring and grabbed his weapon, preparing to run back through the door to launch a surprise attack.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
Yamamoto almost jumped out of his skin, and turned around sharply to find Gokudera leaning against the wall of the shop, close to one of the small windows built into the shop front.
"You moron," Gokudera snarled, "You could have been killed."
"You been here the whole time?" Yamamoto responded, the simple act of breathing feeling as if it was tearing his throat open with every inhale and exhale. Seeing Gokudera scowl at him again, he almost smirked as he was reminded of the one-sided rivalry the Storm Guardian had maintained between them in their younger years.
"Long enough to see you get your chin cut open," Gokudera responded, his Ring unchained, the Flame Arrow ready on his arm.
"Listen..." Yamamoto started, and Gokudera growled and shook his head.
"We can talk once these assholes are dead."
And with that, the Storm Guardian stepped around the door and let loose an attack that shook the entire foundation of the building. Yamamoto rushed around Gokudera and grabbed one of the Millefiore that had scattered from the group upon being attacked, and incapacitated him with a hard blow from the flat of his sword. He tossed the man behind one of the counters and turned his fury upon the rest of the group; they'd need one left alive to interrogate, experience told him, but the rest were fair game.
Three minutes later the remaining men were lying on the ground, completely beyond salvation if not deceased.
"I left the one behind the counter alive," Yamamoto commented calmly, walking towards the door that led to the dojo at the back of his father's home, "Tell whoever it is that wants to interrogate him that they're free to do whatever they need to do to make him talk."
"Yamamoto," Gokudera said, hog-tying the Millefiore goon by means of one of the extra belts on his waist, his voice straining with the effort of staying worry-free, "This won't be the end of them. They're gonna have backup here in a matter of minutes. They know we're here."
"I've got to find my father," Yamamoto replied as he slid the door of the dojo open, turning around to inspect the inside of the large room, ignoring Gokudera's worried glance as the Storm Guardian dragged their captive outside.
The smell of blood had been heavy in the air around him for some time now, but when he stepped in the dojo he realised it was overpowering, and his stomach had already risen into his throat.
It didn't take long for him to find the remains of his father. The blood spatter was a macabre decoration across the length of the back wall, and it almost reached the roof at points. The only remnant of his father that marked him as identifiable was his head, and it looked as if it was the only part of him that the Millefiore had left intact.
Yamamoto managed to stumble out of the dojo before he threw up, eyes and nose streaming as he gagged on the bile that was still rising in his throat.
Gokudera looked at him, his expression resembling that of animal going to the slaughter, and he stepped around the Rain Guardian with his weapon still drawn and only had to step a meter or so inside of the dojo to come face-to-face with what Yamamoto had seen.
"Shit," he babbled incoherently, shutting the heavy door behind them both, face pale and limbs shaking, "God fucking damn it."
The room was quiet save for the sound of both of them breathing. It was only then that Gokudera heard the faint beeping noise coming from the top of the stairwell that led up to the rest of the building. He allowed himself a precious few seconds to listen more closely; the beeping was getting longer. And louder.
"... Yamamoto. We need to get out. Now."
"My old man..."
"We need to get out now," Gokudera reaffirmed, trying to supress the terror in his voice.
"My father is still..." Yamamoto started, but he was cut short when Gokudera grabbed him and ran outside at full tilt, throwing the Rain Guardian on the ground and throwing a protective arm over his back as burning heat rushed over the top of them and the building was engulfed in flames.
"Dad..." Yamamoto murmured weakly, stumbling to his feet as soon as Gokudera had rolled off of him and spitted a mouthful of dirt and spit onto the ground beside them, "Dad..."
Gokudera cursed loudly in Italian and grabbed the Rain Guardian by the hand, stripping both their rings off and throwing them back towards the fire in the process. Yamamoto choked back a dry sob as Gokudera began forcing him towards the car he'd driven to the scene, abandoning the other car his companion had used to the flames. Gokudera didn't think about anything but getting back to the base in one piece as he sped away from the building, but as he abandoned the car at the edge an abandoned intersection a few streets away from the seemingly vacant block of land that hid the Vongola base, he spared a thought and a silent prayer for Yamamoto's father, feeling guilty that he couldn't do more. He grabbed Yamamoto's hand again, the taller man seemingly numb from shock, and grunted with the effort of leading his comrade and unceremoniously dragging the unconscious form of his enemy.
Eventually, Yamamoto seemed to come to enough that he took the Millefiore from Gokudera, looking uncaringly as the rough scrapes the gravel had made on the side of the man's body.
When they made it back to the base, it was Chrome that greeted them.
Yamamoto dropped the Millefiore prisoner on the ground unceremoniously, and walked off without a word.
"Gokudera, what happened?" Chrome asked timidly, concern evident in her voice; Gokudera frowned and rubbed at his temples with one hand.
"We didn't get there in time to save Yamamoto's father," Gokudera stated shortly, "The whole restaraunt was destroyed by an explosion shortly after we killed all of them except this son of a bitch."
He nudged the Black Spell member with his shoe, and the man groaned and twitched.
"Inform Giannini that if he can contact Hibari, to tell him he can do whatever he wants to this one once he's outlived his usefulness."
And with that, Gokudera hurried off after Yamamoto, leaving Chrome to stare at the barely-conscious man on the floor.
Yamamoto was sitting on the edge of his bed, face buried in his hands when Gokudera found him; he was still dirty, sweaty, scarred from the battle, but Gokudera didn't care. The Storm Guardian didn't bother knocking as he came in, and Yamamoto acknowledged his presense with a nod as he dropped one of the heavy first aid kits they kept in good supply around the base to the ground with a thud.
"The Millefiore is dead."
Yamamoto looked upward to meet Gokudera's eyes, and the other man's frown deepened.
"Dokuro disarmed him and blindfolded him, then locked him in a disused room. He managed to force his way out of the restraints she put on his arms and committed suicide. We think it was cyanide. No idea where he hid it."
Yamamoto nodded, and Gokudera knelt down before him and opened the first aid kit, examining the cut on the Rain Guardian's chin.
"Doesn't look that deep. Don't think you'll need stitches," Gokudera murmured, cupping Yamamoto's cheeks in his hands to keep him steady, "It's gonna scar, but we can't help that. Lawn Head is still in Italy."
"It's alright," Yamamoto murmured, and Gokudera frowned and drew the antiseptic out of the first aid kit, as well as an unopened packet of cotton swabs.
The taller man hissed as Gokudera began to clean his wound, the stinging sensation enough to make his eyes water. The Storm Guardian made sure the wound had stopped bleeding and placed a large sticking plaster over his face.
He couldn't stop the slight grunt of amusement that escaped from his throat, and Yamamoto frowned.
"What's so funny?"
"That plaster makes you look like an idiot."
"Ah," Yamamoto responded, laughing humorlessly, "I figured it would."
"Still not as stupid as Lawn Head," Gokudera murmured, and Yamamoto laughed again.
"I see what you mean about it not getting any easier as time passes," the Rain Guardian muttered, "I can already tell it won't."
"The best you can do it try and think of the good times, I guess," Gokudera replied, shutting the first aid kit and sitting himself on the floor in front of Yamamoto, one arm resting on a raised knee as if he already had the cigarette he was craving in his hand.
Yamamoto sighed and nodded. Gokudera offered the box of smokes to his companion before taking one for himself.
"He was a great man," Yamamoto said, smiling tiredly, "I remember the first time he tried to teach me to make sushi. I almost took off my finger off with the knife he used to slice the fish. Mum almost had his head. She left pretty soon after that."
"Yamamoto..." Gokudera murmured, and Yamamoto flashed him a brief smile before burying his face in his hands.
"Strange, huh? How I actually want to talk about the good times but they still make me want to cry like a little kid."
"It's not strange," Gokudera muttered, "If it makes you feel better, you shouldn't worry about it."
"I feel like I've lost a brother and a father too close to each other," Yamamoto replied, "Too goddamn close."
"The Tenth was the closest thing I had to a brother," Gokudera muttered, "He was the first person to accept me for who I am."
"Do you think they're both in a better place?"
"You're asking me if I believe in Heaven or something?" Gokudera questioned, and Yamamoto chuckled dryly.
"If you want to put it that way."
"If it makes you feel better? Yeah, I do."
"And if you didn't care?"
"My answer wouldn't change."
Yamamoto smiled, and reached out to place a hand on Gokudera's arm, in exactly the same spot that he had done it the day they had visited Tsuna's grave together.
"I have two things to ask you."
"What are they?" Gokudera questioned, feeling anticipation curl in his stomach; anticipation of what, was the question.
"Firstly, I want to ask you the same question you asked me the other day," Yamamoto stated evenly, hand tightening on Gokudera's shoulder, "Why the hell do you still put up with me?"
"Because I know that behind the baseball and the happy expression, you're still a good person who knows how to hurt," Gokudera chuckled mirthlessly, and Yamamoto was silent for a moment, before he joined him.
"Secondly... is the offer to hit you still open? I've really got to release some frustration."
"Don't be an idiot," Gokudera murmured, and Yamamoto stared at him.
"Guess that's a no?"
"Yeah," Gokudera affirmed, and his heart was beating so fast against his ribcage that he was sure that Yamamoto could hear it, could feel it through the hand on his shoulder.
When their eyes met, Yamamoto reached up to pluck the smoke from between Gokudera's lips and squash it against the concrete wall of the room with the heel of his palm; neither of the men was sure who moved first after that. They only knew that the feeling of their lips crashing together was both soothing and wholly terrifying at the same time, and that it was as addictive as the nicotine that Gokudera had just held between his lips.
They barely allowed themselves time to breathe before they pressed their lips together again; although the spontaneousness of the last kiss had been thrilling, the burn that slowly formed in the pit of Yamamoto's stomach made this one far more satisfying, and was what ultimately left him wanting more. His hand drew Gokudera closer, and then moved from shoulder to collar to neck, feeling the other's breath hitch against his cheek as they parted. Yamamoto moved wordlessly, eyes locked on the Storm Guardian as he leaned back against the cold concrete wall his bed was placed against, and he was relieved to see he was willingly followed. Gokudera pressed him down with warm, reassuring weight and brought their lips together again as soon as he was comfortable.
The top button on Yamamoto's shirt slid open, and Gokudera leaned over the exposed skin, pausing to glance at the Rain Guardian, silently requesting permission. Yamamoto chuckled huskily, nodding once, and Gokudera growled low in his throat, teeth scraping against the tanned skin of Yamamoto's neck before it was covered by soft lips. The other man responded by sliding his hands between their bodies, gripping at the lapels of Gokudera's jacket and forcing it back over his shoulders.
"Yamamoto," the Storm Guardian hissed, unwillingly pulling away to rid himself of the jacket.
"Takeshi," the other man corrected, and Gokudera gave a small half-smile.
"I guess that makes me Hayato, right?"
"I was hoping so," Yamamoto grinned, shedding his own coat and discarding it at the end of the bed, "But I didn't want to get my hopes up."
Gokudera's mouth didn't return the grin, but his eyes did, briefly; Yamamoto blinked and it was gone, replaced with something more serious.
"Takeshi, this is..."
"I'm fine," Yamamoto replied, already knowing what the other man was going to say even before the words passed his lips.
Gokudera nodded, hearing all he needed to hear; they weren't the fifteen-year-old kids they once were. They were grown men, old enough to know what they wanted, and that was more than enough.
Clothes got shed quickly in between slow, careful kisses and caresses and it was only after they were together, skin on skin, that Yamamoto realised that he must have felt cold for what seemed like an age. Gokudera felt so hot against him that he almost burned.
Gokudera drew the sheets on the mattress back, and they both crawled into the single bed that was far too small for two grown men, but neither of them cared. It felt good to breathe the same air as another person, Yamamoto thought, good to feel the warmth and friction of skin against skin and to taste Gokudera's favourite brand of smokes on his tongue, on his skin.
"Hey."
"Hmm?" Yamamoto hummed, moaning softly as the other man moved against him, hips arching sharply until Gokudera was gasping. Yamamoto was feeling overly hot but so perfectly full and complete that he could never bring himself to care.
"I think I'm ready to keep that promise we made," Gokudera murmured against Yamamoto's neck, and Yamamoto smiled, hissed as the Storm Guardian started moving. They stayed silent until they were both finished, lying bonelessly against one another, feeling the safest they had in what seemed like an eternity.
And as they shared one final, lingering kiss -- deep, sating, fingers tangled clumsily in one another's hair and hearts thudding against ribs -- they realised how good it was to feel alive again.
The next morning, Yamamoto woke up to such a mix of emotions that he was sure the previous day had been a dream. The loss of his father hit him like a blow to the stomach, and it was only after he started taking deep breaths to calm himself that he realised his face was buried in Gokudera's hair. He wasn't sure if the smell of gun powder and tobacco alleviated his dizziness or increased it tenfold.
Gokudera was awake, silent, staring at the door of Yamamoto's room with a calm yet otherwise wholly unreadable expression. His fingers were curling and uncurling reflexively against the white cotton sheets of the bed, and Yamamoto knew the other man was itching for a cigarette by that motion alone.
"Morning," Yamamoto said, and Gokudera jumped, "Seems like I surprised you this time."
"I told you before," Gokudera said, lips curling into a small smile, "You're the last person who could ever surprise me."
After Yamamoto didn't respond, Gokudera eased himself out of the other man's grasp, grabbing his clothes from the floor and partially redressing himself while his fellow Guardian stared at the ceiling.
"... do you want me to leave? It's my turn to guard the Tenth, anyway."
"No," Yamamoto said immediately, "But I won't keep you from your duty."
"If you want me here, I can tell that stupid cow to go," Gokudera said, breathing a sigh of relief as he found his smokes and lit one with a definite air of impatience.
"It's alright," Yamamoto smiled, gratefully taking a cigarette when Gokudera offered him the box, "I have something I need to do here."
"Alright," Gokudera nodded, and then sighed, "About what happened?"
"Hayato, it's nothing to do with you," the Rain Guardian stated, and he watched the other man flinch then relax at the still-unfamiliar use of his first name, "I just want to farewell my father in my own way."
"... alright," Gokudera nodded, shrugging on his jacket and leaning down to light Yamamoto's cigarette before standing back and offering the other man a small smile.
"Be safe," Yamamoto grinned around the cigarette, "We made a promise, remember? "
"Yeah," Gokudera replied, smile now truly genuine, "We did."
Yamamoto took the cigarettes from both their mouths and chanced another kiss, and Gokudera accepted, tugging at the other man's bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away and leaving without a word and with a look that said more than words could have hoped to say in the first place.
Once he was alone, he walked to his desk and began to dig through the drawers for a picture of himself and his father together; he was thankful he'd insisted on having the pictures with him in the base, as they were probably the only memories that had survived the blast that had destroyed their home the day before. Once he finally found one -- an ancient shot of the two of them making sushi together for the other Vongola Guardians -- Yamamoto opened the second drawer to retrieve his spare, chained ring and came face-to-face with the post-it note that he had salvaged from the last paperwork Tsuna had left for him.
He picked it up, smiled a bitter smile and then took the cigarette from his lips, pressed the burning end to the corner of the paper and then let it drop from his grasp, watching the note curl and smoulder against the flames until the fire burned itself out.
He dressed in a new suit, ring on his finger, boxes in his pockets, photograph in hand and left his room, heading towards one of the exits of the base, glad that he encountered no one on the way.
Perhaps it had been too hard to say goodbye to Tsuna, to believe he was gone forever when they were still guarding him even in death. Perhaps being deprived of a true farewell had made parting with him all the more hard for all of them. Perhaps the smell of his blood would always haunt them, a constant that they could never become accustomed to.
He would always be a huge part of him, them, all of them, but perhaps there was a way to numb the pain over time that neither he nor Gokudera had managed to figure out.
All Yamamoto knew that they would keep living for Tsuna, and each other, until the sweetest, or bitterest, of ends.
END