000
Storming Skies
It was just a silly high-school girls' love ritual. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing would have happened, had Gokudera's mother not been a Squib. Now he's caught in another country, and in the middle of a deadly tournament. Gokudera/Harry.
000
Chapter One
Ritual
000
Miura Haru was disappointed.
At sixteen years of age, she had been in love for the last two years with the kindest, bravest, most amazing young man ever, Sawada Tsunayoshi. She had been cruel to him but he never spoke ill to her, and even saved her life when she fell into the river in her heavy hockey equipment and nearly drowned. He hadn't even hesitated before he was diving in headfirst roaring that he would save her 'With His Dying Will'. She had chased and supported him for two years, holding a friendly rivalry with her new bestfriend Sasagawa Kyoko who was in Tsuna-kun's class at school. The two of them were bestfriends and both of them liked Tsuna. Both of them agreeing that no matter who won the race for Tsuna's heart, they would still be bestfriends at the end.
But it didn't stop Haru from being disappointed when it became clear that Kyoko would always be the girl in Tsuna-kun's heart and head. She... she hadn't even been considered. And it hurt.
She loved Tsuna for how sweet and brave he was. And while she knew he viewed her as a precious friend it...
The girl sighed as she helped Bianchi and I-pin set out the food in the kitchen. Today, everyone had gotten together at Tsuna-kun's house to celebrate Kaoru-kun's birthday, as one of the oldest of the group he was turning eighteen today, November 24th. It was a big day so they were going all out. Both she and Kyoko had spent hours yesterday making sure the cake, big enough for everyone, was shaped like a baseball. Kaoru-kun was a nice boy, it was almost sweet the way he would trail behind Takeshi-kun like a puppy, eager to jump into whatever the Rain Guardian thought was a good idea at the time. If she hadn't known that Takeshi was crushing on the baseball team's manager Izumi-chan then she would have thought there was something a little more than hero-worship going on there.
As she began to unroll the clingfilm from the platters of sweet-meat nibbles, she couldn't help but flick her eyes over to their Storm Guardian as he valiantly tried to fend off the attentions of that quite frankly abnormal girl with the purple hair who constantly went around flashing everyone. Oh, Shitopi-chan was perfectly nice, and she was really smart, but Haru didn't like her. She acted like she was better than everyone around her, and Haru didn't like how she was constantly trying to get into Gokudera-kun's personal space.
The dark haired girl huffed as she balled up the clingfilm and turned away from the tawdry sight. Gokudera could handle himself. After the first three months following the incident with the Shimon students, he seemed to have settled down his idea that the girl in question was an UMA and taken to avoiding her. She was just some weirdly dressed fangirl as far as Haru was concerned. What did she know about Gokudera that she, Haru, didn't already? There was history between the two of them. Not that purple haired attention seeker.
Hahi?! She didn't – that was cruel! She should be ashamed of herself thinking such horrible things!
Haru shook her head and binned the clingfilm before beginning to unwrap the rest of the platters. Watching from the corner of her eye as Tsuna-kun came in and gave Kyoko – who was busying herself making a mountain of sandwiches – a kiss on the cheek, hugging her from behind.
She swallowed back her jealousy and the voice in her head that said it should have been her receiving that. She would have her moment, just... not yet.
Her eyes flicked back to Gokudera-kun who had finally warded off Shitopi-chan and was now grumpily snatching up a mochi from one of the unwrapped platters. It was pretty much an unspoken fact. The girl who failed to get the guy, ended up with his bestfriend. An established trope throughout literature, manga, TV soaps, and films. Second best always ended up with the second best guy. Haru supposed Gokudera wasn't so bad, he was just... abrasive to anyone that wasn't Tsuna. Haru couldn't blame him over much, not when she knew about his history. Bianchi had shared it with her in the bath, telling her the raw unvarnished truth of what her younger brother had gone through and then pointing out how it had affected him.
Looking back, Haru realised that the rosette haired woman had seen the way that Tsuna's interests had been leaning and advised her about her brother ahead of time. Silently supporting their union. Even if her brother was unaware of what was going to happen, all the girls knew it would. Haru was, perhaps, a little less enthusiastic but she could warm to the idea. Gokudera-kun was smart, and he was brave, and once you had his loyalty you had it until death. As a Plan B, he wasn't half bad. She just had to teach him some manners first!
"Hahi! Leave the food alone! It's not ready yet!" she snapped, lobbing the balled up length of clingfilm in her hand and bouncing it off the Storm Guardian's head.
"Shut up, woman, it's just a mochi, damnit!" he snapped brusquely in return.
"Hayato," his sister reprimanded lowly only to receive a glower and scoff from her younger brother who stalked out of the room and away from the stung young woman who hissed after him, poking her tongue out angrily before returning to tearing clingfilm off food platters with, perhaps, more aggression than was warranted.
Gokudera huffed as he stalked back into the living room where the cow was playing with Fuuta under Rauji's watchful eye, Koyo was already fighting with Ryohei, Adelheid trying to stop them while fending off Julie's sexual harassment. Baseball freak and baseball freak 2.0 were gushing over magazines and 2.0's latest present – a signed catcher's mitt from some famous baseball player. A seven year old looking Reborn was terrorising a ten year old looking Skull who was trying to hide behind Enma who was also being terrorised by Reborn. And Chrome was chatting quietly with Shitt P in the corner – he conspicuously avoided that corner with a scowl as he threw himself down on one of the sofas and grabbed a drink to wash down the sticky leftovers from his stolen mochi.
He wasn't blind. Those damn women could pretend all they liked but he was not oblivious. Fuck, he'd figured this whole bullshit out a year before they did when that damn irritating woman came into their lives. He was just as familiar with the cliché as the rest of them, only he had calculated their personalities into the whole thing and come to the conclusion that it wouldn't work out no matter how hard she tried. No matter how hard he tried. Haru may have been book smart, but she was a simpleton and an airhead to boot. Not to mention pushy and self-righteous. Four things he loathed above almost all else. She was so frickin' controlling. Did she know a damn thing about him beyond what his sister had told her? No. Did his sister know anything beyond what she'd observed, because he sure as hell never told her what he thought or felt or got up to? No again.
But now that Tsuna had made his choice clear, everyone and their fucking dogs were expecting him and that woman to get closer and hook up as well. Just because everyone else in their group was beginning to pair off.
No thank you.
Just because she couldn't get Juudaime did not mean that he was willing to play second fiddle for her. He had spent long enough being that for his father, being the 'settlement' because he couldn't have his mother. Not being loved on his own merit, only because he had to and then later because he was all that was left. No, he wasn't going to go through that painful doubt and self-loathing ever again, not for her, not for his sister. Not even for Juudaime. He would give his life for that man, but not his sense of self.
So, as the party progressed, he did his best to act no differently to the woman than he did to Kyoko-san, or Adelheid, or even his own sister. I-pin was just a kid, he liked her, though her taste in boys was freaky weird (crushing on Hibari? Girl had issues). Shitt P... the less he remembered their disastrous and short period as boyfriend and girlfriend (lasting barely a week), the happier he would be. The fact that she cheated on him for that freak Naito Longchamp was just... twisting the knife. And she was entirely unapologetic about it! Coming back as if expecting him to have his arms open and welcoming her whore-self back.
She said it best during the Pride Matches. There was no one she loved more than herself.
Well, she was welcome to herself then.
He had a little more self-respect than to be involved with someone who didn't give a shit whether they upset or hurt him as long as they were having fun. Not a healthy relationship and not one that he had any intention of being part of. Hence why he refused to let her talk him back into her thrall. Hence why he refused to pay attention to Haru's not so subtle reluctant flirting, her considering looks, or the way she kept trying to offer him things that he didn't like. Once upon a time he may have been alright with it, but that was before Juudaime, before Tsuna, before he found a home that accepted him for who he was, for him and him alone, not his family or connections. He was no longer the desperately lonely young boy who wanted to be loved on his own merit or not, Juudaime gave him a home, a sky, all his own.
Since it was a birthday, they were forbidden to talk about any Mafia business under pain of a Reborn styled punishment, so in the end, Gokudera ended up discussing geology with Rauji for half the party before Lambo jumped on his back demanding attention. He got a noogie and a pulled tail (he was seven now, why the fuck was he still wearing that damn cow suit?!) before he got unceremoniously punted into the hallway where I-pin and Fuuta were playing. Rauji laughed and went to go and deal with him when Lambo started screaming about his being rough. Then Haru swooped in shrieking at him for being a bully and – ugh, enough!
The silver haired boy grunted and stalked away from her, instead of staying to argue. He didn't want to deal with her. With their stupid ass expectation that he would willingly swallow his self-respect and date the harpy woman just to make her happy, make her feel wanted because Juudaime couldn't stand her pushy behaviour either.
Compared to Kyoko, who's only fault so far was her ridiculous naivety and willingness to swallow any bullshit story her brother fed her, the woman was a harpy not fit for human interaction. She was damn useless for anything that wasn't cooking or cleaning and Hayato had zero interest in a fucking trophy wife!
He pretended to ignore the disapproving looks from his sister and from a few of the others as he left, stepping out into the garden and down the path to the street outside the gate where he leaned against the wall, looking around at the darkened surroundings in mild surprise. A quick check of his watch as he rummaged for his box of cigarettes and lighter confirmed that it was eleven PM as he lit up. Deeply inhaling, he felt his irritation ebb, and muscles relax a little as he stared up at the sky, unable to see a great deal of its majesty thanks to the local light pollution.
Of all the women he knew, the only ones he could stand were I-pin (too young), Kyoko-san (taken), and Chrome (also taken – but by a kufufu-ing bastard. She could do better). And after the first time he was honest about a certain little secret, Hayato wasn't keen on letting anyone become aware that he could also quite comfortably bat for the other team, so to speak. Fuck, he'd been hanging around the baseball idiot too long if he was using analogies like that. He lit up another cigarette, idly wondering when the last time he got so stressed he chain-smoked was. And the number of guys he could see himself hooking up with was even more depressingly short. Rauji maybe. But, ah, he didn't think he would be happy with such a relationship, for one, it would get boring with the larger boy bending to his every whim the same way he did to the cow. Which was another issue of annoyance. Someone good with kids he was fine with, someone who bent to the every desire of the rascals was not, it was disgusting. How were they supposed to learn better behaviour if they weren't punished for bad behaviour?
He didn't care if he was demanding too much. No one was perfect, least of all him, but that didn't mean he was going to settle because he couldn't find someone he loved, someone who could actually love him back. His friends could try to push him onto Haru as much as they liked but it didn't change the fact that she didn't love him, and he didn't love her. She was settling. He refused to.
Lighting another cigarette, his third that night, he leaned against the wall and stared up at the stars. It wasn't a bad way to pass his time, he decided. His eyes traced the constellations as he blew smoke rings through the air, the light from the house behind him turning them silvery grey as they dissipated above his head.
If he was going to settle down, he wanted someone he could love, someone who would love him back. Not fiery passion and full of mistakes, though that had its appeal, no, he wanted to grow old with this person. He wanted someone to make a home with, someone to be his home. Someone who could keep up with him mentally and not just in intelligence, someone who could understand. He wouldn't have to be there constantly to protect them because they could fight and stand at his side without fear. Someone who could actually accept the Mafia and the Vongola and not have that wet-puppy expression on their faces when something happened. Someone who didn't care about his financial situation – because the second it got out that his dad was filthy rich, the number of fangirls that followed him around tripled. Never mind that he hadn't spoken to the man since he ran away at eight years of age, or that he was living in a crummy apartment in the bad part of town steadily draining through his savings (though now he was receiving a stripend from the Vongola as one of the Decimo's Guardians, it was more than he knew what to do with in all honesty).
"Gokudera-kun?" The silver haired Storm Guardian rolled his head lazily to where Juudaime was watching him from the gateway, his amber-brown eyes catching the lights from the house behind him, perfectly highlighting the expression of concern and guilt on his face. An expression that never failed to make Hayato feel like crap for worrying him. He dropped the cigarette and crushed it under toe.
"Juudaime, is everything okay?" he asked, turning fully to the smaller teen. He shook his head.
"Yes but... Are you okay, Gokudera-kun? I saw..." he trailed off, biting his lip. Saw what? Hayato frowned a little, perplexed and tilting his head in confusion. Juudaime shifted, glancing over his shoulder for onlookers before up at him. "I'm sorry... about the way Haru's been treating you, the rest of the girls too..." he said softly, making Hayato huff in annoyance.
"Don't apologise for them, Juudaime. Their actions have nothing to do with you and I would never think of holding you responsible for them," he stated boldly, folding his arms and nodding firmly.
Juudaime shook his head, "Because I lead Haru on, everyone thinks you'll clean up my mess now that I'm with Kyoko-chan and it isn't fair on you!" he burst out before glancing once again over his shoulder at the house, thankfully it seemed that Ryohei and Koyo's fight had reached a crescendo of chaos now that Lambo had gotten involved and his voice went unnoticed. "You don't love Haru. You barely tolerate her at times. And everyone's pressuring you to set aside your feelings just to make her happy," he mumbled miserably.
Hayato sighed and placed a hand on his Sky's shoulder, Tsuna jerked and looked up at him with those unreal brown eyes that somehow reflected amber in the golden light from the Sawada house to his right, Hayato flashed him a thumbs up. It was the kind of cheesy Japanese move that his Juudaime would understand and appreciate, "Don't worry about me, Juudaime. I've come a long way from where I used to be, thanks to you. I'm not going to settle for anything less than love. Promise," he assured his bestfriend, his Boss, his Sky. There had been a time when he had loved this amazing man in front of him, but he knew even then that the love he felt could never be romantic, never be sexual. He loved Tsuna like a brother, like a friend, like someone whom he could not spend his life without. But never as someone he could... Ahh, he knew what he meant. Heterosexual life partners (even if one of them was a little less than heterosexual). Little old men who would sit at the same retirement home, joking about the old days as grand-children dropped by to visit. That sounded good.
Tsuna smiled, fears set to rest and Hayato counted it as a mental win, "Come on. The girls are setting up some kind of occult party game they found out about at school," he said gesturing back to the house.
Hayato's interest was instantly peaked. Occult party game? As much as he may have ragged on the Harpy, she too was interested in the Occult and she did research the information she found, it was one of the few subject matters they could discuss without it degenerating into a vicious argument that he had to walk away from before he hit her (which wasn't gentlemanly and his sister would have had his balls for earbobs if he did).
The two made their way back inside, Hayato tossing a soft mint in his mouth as he went – he did not want to deal with the bitching about bad breath. Inside, the chaos of Ryohei and Koyo's fight had been set to rights, most of them were in the kitchen picking up plates of food, in the living room, all the girls had set up some kind of cauldron in a ritual circle. A quick sniff confirmed the scent of basil, sage, and mallowsweet in the air, along with something peppery.
They turned eerie smiles onto him and he felt his hackles rise in reaction.
"What's this?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. Mentally, he wondered if he shouldn't have gone to the kitchen for food first, this stank of a set up.
The harpy gave him a strained smile, "Hahi, it's a Love Ritual designed to show you your soul mate. You salt the ground, and then you speak about what you want in a partner, burning a leaf of sage, basil, and mallowsweet. The smoke from the herbs'll wrap around the person you're meant to be with," she explained with a knowledgeable nod, "It works too. Back before the Roman occupation of England, the Pagans would do the ritual after a girl's first blood to show who she was supposed to marry."
Hayato scoffed, "And they also used to say if you stick a cooking spoon under your bed when you're pregnant you'll give birth to a girl," he sneered dismissively, apparently at the wrong time because Ryohei was suddenly behind him and giving him a push towards the girls. There was a hard glint in his eyes even as he smiled around his takoyaki.
"You scared, Tako-head?" he challenged loudly.
The Storm Guardian twitched, his temper rising, "It's a dumbass school girl love-scam, what the fuck is there to be scared of, idiot LAWN HEAD?" he roared, feeling a nerve throb under his eye as his stress levels once again shot through the roof.
"Then why don't you take part for once? Haru went to a lot of effort to set up something that would interest you, Hayato," his sister interrupted, her voice oh-so-reasonable, and layered with enough menace to turn the Takoyaki in Ryohei's hand purple and viscous (he immediately spat out the purple remnants of his prior takoyaki onto the plate). The silver haired teenager glared furiously at his sister. Did she always have to do this? Try and dictate his life for 'his own good'? Force him to stay with his asshole father, force feed him her foul poison cooking, and now force him onto the Harpy?
Fine. You know what, FINE!
They want him to take part in that fucking ritual, OKAY.
"FINE!"
Snarling, he whipped around and snatched the herb bowl and salt, throwing the sea-salt forcefully onto the ground he then flung a handful of basil leaves into the large metal washing-up bowl filled with scented tea-light candles.
"I want a partner who won't try to control my life! Someone who can fucking take care of themselves – so I won't have to hold their damn hand! Someone who can accept the mafia for what they are and doesn't care! Someone who won't fucking SETTLE on me because they can't get the one they want!"
Haru full body flinched, recoiling backwards away from the cloying smoke of the tea-light filled bowl as Hayato threw another handful of leaves in, the bitter scent of burning Sage flooding the air, mingling with the basil.
"I want someone who won't give a crap about my heritage, that I'm a bastard, or my family is full of abusive controlling murderous freaks!"
Bianchi reared back as if slapped, blanching in shock and hurt.
"Someone intelligent I can actually have a conversation with! Someone loyal and kind, who won't sit back on their ass when they see something they don't agree with! Someone who isn't afraid to tell me when I'm wrong but won't get in my fucking face about it and scream at me without a fucking explanation why! Someone who won't leave me high and dry if I need them to have my back! I don't want a one-way fucking street relationship! I want someone I can actually fucking love! Someone I can grow old with!
"I want. A fucking. SOUL. MATE!" he roared, glaring hard enough at Haru who trembled, white and small across the otherside of the metal washing-up bowl as he sneered. Stupid little fucking harpy bitch. He gave a passing thought to apologise to Baseball Idiot 2.0 for ruining his birthday later (get him a Yankees shirt or something) as, to add insult to injury, he slammed the last of the herbs, sea-salt, and even the bowl itself, into the burning candles – relishing the satisfying crash they made along with the sudden upblow of smoke that choked the room.
He turned to leave, unwilling to sit there for the aftermath. His sister screaming, the Harpy crying, I-pin looking at him like he'd stabbed her cat, Reborn shaking his head with quiet disapproval, Tsuna wincing and looking torn and guilty and wretched for encouraging him back into the house. No, he didn't want to stick around for that.
And then the floor dropped out beneath him.
His eyes bugged out in horror as he realised he was staring at open sky.
Bright open sky. Daylight open sky.
Open sky in midair.
Open sky in midair HIGH above the ground.
He was falling.
And then he hit something and felt the whole world jerk to one side as something thin and hard went around him, holding on firmly.
And yelping in surprise and shock.
Pale jade green met vivid emerald green.
It was hard to tell which of them wore the expression of greater surprise, Hayato, or this strange boy with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen and windswept black hair and dorky ancient black round glasses.
And then a roar of epic proportions, a yowling screeching scream that grated and vibrated off his eardrums worse than any of Lambo's screeches, tore the air and Hayato couldn't stop his eyes from sliding off the boy's suddenly grim expression to behind him and – WAS THAT A MOTHER FUCKING DRAGON?!
His breath froze in his lungs and his whole body went cold as he just... drank in the sight of the beast behind and beneath them.
It – she because Hayato could see a nest of eggs just under her writhing form – was immense in size, sleek and lizard-like with matt-black scales, dotted here and there with a fleck of bronze and gold. Definitely over sixty feet in length and corded with powerful rippling muscle that bunched and knotted under the bristling protection of thorny black scales, she had a shorter neck than he would have anticipated on a dragon and her jaw and snout were not long and slender but rather wide and stumpy – to accommodate the massive frilled ridge of spikes and horns that crowned her lower jaw, eyebrows, and the top of her head in gold and bronze. Her snout was hooked, with a beak not unlike that of a raptor bird of prey, hard and gleaming, and with her mouth open, he could see the configuration of fangs and teeth looking like a mixture between a shark, lion, and a turtle from hell, back-lit with a haze of heat and - ("HOLD ON!" shouted in English)
The world rolled to the side as the dragoness sent a towering spout of flame over forty feet into the air and straight at them.
Out of reflex, Hayato clung to the boy as it felt like his body was going to fall again even as everything spun around like a roller-coaster ride from hell, a thin, tiny body curling around him and moving purposefully as if – as if –
They were on a motherfucking broomstick.
They were flying on a motherfucking broomstick.
"Y-You're crushing me!" his pilot gasped in English, wheezing under Hayato's vice-grip.
The dragon screeched again, rearing up onto her hind-legs in order to get closer to them, that vicious maw opening wide yet again to unleash a burst of hellfire.
Hayato's breath caught in that split second heartbeat.
She was magnificent. Utterly breath taking. Huge powerful wings spread open for balance, each wing easily defeating the wing-span of a jumbo jet, the smell of animal musk, sulphur, and lizard filling his nose like nothing he had ever experienced before in his life as the light gleamed dully, menacingly on that rack of horns and spines, a red glow spilling from between gleaming white fangs.
And then the moment ended as the black haired boy cursed, colourfully. "HOLD ON TIGHT!" he shouted over the sound of the Dragon's rage before suddenly they were dropping like a stone.
Hayato would deny it for the rest of his life, but he screamed as the ground rose-up like an unforgiving iron fist waiting to flatten them into piles of blood and gore and broken bone. But instead of pulling up, the black haired boy merely narrowed his eyes behind those ridiculous glasses and leaned forward even further, speeding up!
The Italian wheezed, his eyes bugging out.
The boy heaved on the broom under him, the world shifted and – HE TOOK HIS HANDS OFF THE BROOM – lunging over him, the boy snatched something gold up and out of the nest, shoving it roughly into Hayato's lap before they were gone out, skimming up the side of – of – an arena?
The dragon screamed, and there was a sound of tearing metal and panicked shrieks.
Hayato twisted, looking over the boy's shoulder, grimly clutching the golden... thing. "Go faster!" he yelled over the rushing wind, his eyes widening in panic. "GO FUCKING FASTER!"
"I'M GOING AS FAST AS I CAN WITH TWO PEOPLE!" the boy shouted back, an edge of hysteria in his voice as the dragon roared, the chain that had kept her restrained on the ground nothing more than a swinging decoration as she chased them through the sky.
She opened her jaws wide and they rolled, speeding forward and streaking out of danger by a hair's breadth. Hayato could feel the heat of that flame, enough to make his skin tighten in discomfort before the cold November chill lashed against it painfully with their speed. He held tightly to the dark haired boy, making sure to keep one arm wrapped around the gold orb-like thing in his lap (if he was desperate enough to face a dragon for it then it had to be pretty important, never mind the arena of people watching and doing fuck all to help). Whatever kind of event this was, the boy seemed to have it well in hand, managing to outfly the dragon with Hayato weighing him down and managing to scoop up the golden object. It let the Storm Guardian relax a little, enough so to actually get a look at his surroundings.
Sans flying broom, and dragon, he could already tell he most definitely wasn't in Japan anymore. It was approaching midnight when he left, and it was daylight here. Given the temperature and the colour of the sky, seeing as it was late November, he was pegging it as pretty damn FAR in the West, Europe probably. He would like to say England because his pilot spoke English with a very clear British accent, but in Europe that wasn't really indicative of much beyond where the kid was raised. And considering how they were being chased by a dragon... Hayato wasn't putting the fact that he could have been from fucking Jupiter out of his considerations. Maybe UMAs spoke with British Accents on Jupiter. He didn't fucking know!
They rocketed past a castle spire, Hayato's attention seized by the architecture as they circled away from it at a wide angle. White, ancient stone, good solid flint roof-tiling, diamond shaped multi-panelled glass windows framed in lead, it was classically medieval, complete with gargoyles. He was definitely in Europe. But architecture was never his strong point, he could pin-point several ways to bring the whole tower down with explosives he didn't have on him (he'd stupidly left them at home because Juudaime didn't want a fight breaking out), but he couldn't tell you if it was German or British, or even Spanish. It wasn't Russian, he could tell that much.
"I need you to get behind me!" the boy shouted over the rushing wind when it looked like they were in the clear, "I can't manoeuvre properly with you in front!" he added in explanation.
Hayato nodded, reasonable enough. The kid was doing phenomenonly well even with Hayato's skinny ass occupying his arms. "Got it!" he shouted to show he heard before adjusting his grip and shifting his legs. You know, in all honesty, discounting the frankly unreal elements of all this, it was almost like any other kind of chaos that managed to chase Juudaime's heels. Right down to the giant impossible animals. At least no one had tried to kill him yet, aside from the dragon, but she was an animal and thus didn't count. There wasn't even a whiff of Dying Will Flames or Box Weapons to speak of (thank god he never took Uri's belt-buckle off, he didn't know how he would cope if she had been left in Japan, Juudaime would have taken care of her but he would still go crazy with worry. She was hard to deal with at the best of times even for people she adored, like Juudaime).
Something flashed in the corner of his eye and the boy was suddenly throwing himself over Hayato, skinny arms snapping around him as they fell into a steep nose-dive.
"Never mind! Just... Hold on! Wrap your legs- around me!" he shouted, voice faltering a little over the wind as Hayato adjusted his grip – he was probably leaving bruises with how tightly he was holding on. The Storm Guardian managed to manoeuvre himself so he was sat straddling the other boy, legs wrapped around his waist, gold orb between them, one arm went around the boy and the other around the egg.
The boy pulled sharply on the nose of the broom and they shot away towards a large placid lake, so deep and murky that it looked black. He was breathing hard and trembling under Hayato's grip as water fountained up behind them with the force of their passing.
A shriek from behind drew his attention back to the dragon who swooped in behind them.
The boy grit his teeth, "Hold tight!" he shouted before they flipped over, flying upside down!
Hayato cursed, loudly and violently as the boy produced a thin foot-long wooden rod from somewhere on his person, a goddamn wand, really? And directed it at the water beneath them, gathering it at the tip of the wand as they flew.
Hayato looked over his shoulder at the dragon, her mouth glowing with the onset of flame.
A kingdom for a stick of dynamite!
"HOLD!" the boy suddenly bellowed shortly, Hayato reflexively clamping down on everything within his grasp as, with a sharp, violent movement, the boy kicked out one leg, the whole broom rolling to an almost 90-degree turn, and the wand snapping up.
A bolt of lake water speared into the dragon's open glowing maw.
Hayato watched as they flew onwards as the dragon shrieked, her whole body recoiling in a mixture of pain, confusion, and shock, her massive bulk hitting the lake and flailing, huge black wings beating uselessly against the water as she screeched and clawed – steam and black smoke issuing from between her jaws. Unable to breathe fire for some reason.
The boy flew them steadily back to the arena.
Hayato watched as the stands practically boiled with people his age and younger, all of them wearing an odd uniform of colour-coded robes. There were three other, much smaller stands, one of which holding girls in blues and greys, the other of boys in red and black, the final one had a table in front of it with officials and behind them were various other 'responsible' adults. Inside the arena was the nest, filled with a multitude of cement coloured eggs, now clustered around by various men and women in practical, slightly scorched, leather armour.
A muscular red head was waving them down and the boy took them in for a significantly less than graceful landing as they hit the ground and tumbled across the sand. The wind getting knocked out of Hayato as they came to a stop, the dark haired boy lying on top of him panting and shaking.
He shoved the golden orb out from between them and sat up, already the people in leathers were rushing over.
Why was his hand wet?
He looked down and pulled his hand away from the dark haired boy's back, his palm was slick and sticky with blood. Wha- When had he gotten injured?!
"Harry! Are you okay!" the red head who'd flagged them down cried as he dropped down beside them.
"I'm fine, Charlie. Just a little shook up," the dark haired boy, Harry, admitted, squinting up at the red head before pulling a face, "Damn, lost my glasses," he complained.
"What the hell is going on?" Hayato had to ask, staring between the two of them in tired disbelief. They looked at him and he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "That was a fucking Dragon. You were flying against a fucking dragon for entertainment. What. The. Hell?" he demanded shortly.
"LOOK AT THAT! WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT! OUR YOUNGEST CHAMPION IS QUICKEST TO GET HIS EGG AND NOT ONLY THAT MANAGING TO OUTFLY, OUTSMART, AND DEFEAT THE MOST VIOLENT OF ALL DRAGON BREEDS, THE HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL, WITH A FIRST YEAR LEVITATION CHARM – ALL WHILE CARRYING AN UNEXPECTED PASSENGER! WELL, THIS IS GOING TO SHORTEN THE ODDS ON MISTER POTTER INDEED!"
Harry Potter shook his head, getting to his feet, he looked uncomfortable and not quite certain how to react to the noise of the crowd, all of which were screaming and applauding as if they were at some damn sporting event. He glanced over his shoulder and a smile cracked onto his face at the sight of three people hurrying over. Hayato frowned and glanced at them, only to find himself having to give them a second long look.
The woman wasn't anything remarkable. In the latter reaches of middle aged, she wore black robes trimmed in green tartan, a pointed witches hat with thistle around the brim, and had black hair and glasses. Beside her though was a gnarled, grizzled, scarred, old man on a fucking peg-leg with a freakish glass eye that was whizzing in every direction of its own volition. And behind them, his face positively streaming with tears and snot, armed with a yellow and white checkered handkerchief, was a giant. Three times taller than Harry and five times wider possessing a thick bushy mane of wiry black hair and a beard that wouldn't have looked out of place on a Russian woodsman.
The woman seemed to be forcing herself not to throw her arms around the dark haired boy as Hayato got to his feet, hauling the egg – it was an egg, what the hell were they trying to pull? – up with him under one arm.
"That was excellent, Potter!" the woman exclaimed before she gestured at them to follow her. Her hands were shaking. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score... Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already..." the woman explained as she pointed to the arena exit.
"Yeh did it, Harry!" the giant man sobbed hoarsely, sounding so happy and relieved that any concern for his fierce appearance vanished. Apparently this one was the definition of a (soggy) oatmeal cookie. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' –" he babbled, only to be cut off by the dark haired boy who was now grinning widely and a little manically, trying to desperately cover something up.
"Thanks Hagrid!" he said loudly.
"Nice and easy does the trick, Potter," peg-leg growled out before affixing a glare onto Hayato who bristled defensively under the judgemental stare.
Harry grabbed his arm and began to pull him towards the exit before anyone could say anything about his being there. The dark haired boy glanced at him over his shoulder with vivid green eyes that couldn't quite seem to focus on his face, he really must have been blind without those glasses.
"Sorry about Moody. You won't find anyone who's more paranoid around than him," he explained as they approached the medical tent, "Um... Just... who are you? How did you even get here?" he asked warily, as he pushed aside the tent flap to go in.
Hayato never had a chance to answer because a split second after the tent-flap was disturbed, a female voice was splitting the air.
"Dragons!" she snarled in disgust, a hand reaching out from within the tent and pulling the green eyed boy inside.
"Ah! Madam Pomfrey!" Harry yelped, grabbing Hayato's arm and tugging him in as well. "I'm fine! Check him first!" he yelped, practically shoving the Storm Guardian at the stern dark haired woman wearing an old hospital matron's dress, hat, and a blindingly stark white apron.
She sniffed dismissively, eyeing him suspiciously before flicking her wand at him, "He's perfectly fine," she reported coolly, "Old injuries a plenty, you've had a violent past. Your stomach lining is delicate, but nothing I can deal with right now. Potter, sit!" she commanded the dark haired boy, pointing at a near-by stool. Meekly, the other boy shuffled over and hopped up into it. Hayato smirked a little and got a grimace in return.
"Last year Dementors, this year Dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next?" the matron hissed darkly as she picked at the dark haired boy's shirt, "This is deeper than I anticipated. Hold still," she commanded, producing her own wand and flicking it.
Harry squawked as his shirt vanished, thin arms immediately wrapping around himself self-consciously as his face turned bright red.
Damn, he was tiny. And thin. Painfully thin.
Hayato's eyes narrowed at the various scars that littered his body, big and small. Then there was the way his ribs were starkly, painfully visible, his stomach mildly concave, even his forearms were flat and thin and pale. He could see every vertebrae on his back, even with the sick copper gleam of blood rubbed across white skin. Then he got a good look at his back and hissed in sympathetic pain.
Two huge gouges across the shoulders and middle of his back. One was large, about a foot, going from just above the right shoulderblade to about six inches beneath the left, it was deep too, sluggishly pouring blood. The other one was smaller, about six inches long and a little more shallow, but still pretty deep. About three inches below the other one so right at the small of his back.
"Tergio," the matron incanted, flicking her wand. In that instant, all the blood and filth seemed to syphon off the tears in his back, revealing the torn punctured split flesh in all of its ragged ugly glory. She clucked unhappily at the sight of it. "This will hurt, Potter. The wound is too filthy for me to just seal it shut and with the broken edges the scarring will be extensive," she warned him.
"I don't care about scars, Ma'am," Harry admitted awkwardly, shivering and rubbing his thin upperarms, hunched over on his stool.
"I know you don't," the matron said, her voice softening, and her expression pained where the boy couldn't see it. Hayato was getting the feeling that this wasn't the first time the boy had come under her care with extensive injuries, there was just that look about her face, the one that Shamal sometimes had when he got too deep in his cups and someone mentioned the Vongola. He liked to think Hayato didn't know, but he did, how could he not? Enrico Vongola, the Noveno's oldest son and the leading candidate for the position of Decimo, had been his sister's Sky. Both Bianchi and Shamal had once been Guardians to a Sky. But Romeo, the Sun Guardian, his sister's boyfriend, that lay-about playboy traitor, had gotten Enrico killed in a gun fight. His sister forcefed him her Poison Cooking, and Shamal made sure to destroy his immune system. He died slowly, and painfully, for killing their Sky.
The woman bustled to a small wooden cabinet to one side and took a bottle, it was blue and filled with an odd sludgy liquid. "Now, this will hurt, a great deal, Mister Potter. And I am sorry for that. However, as I doubt you're aware, Horntails often use their tails to spear their own food, amongst other things. Much like a lion's claws, they become filthy and often times, wounds caused by them will become infected and gangrenous in short order. It certainly doesn't help that the latent magical energy present in them makes such wounds difficult to close using magic. This potion will burn the filth and remains of that magic out of the wound, allowing me to close it properly. You won't suffer any mobility problems, but you may have to deal with some back pain in cold conditions. Understand?" she explained as she applied the potion, which now that he could see it was vivid emerald green, to a cloth.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry responded.
"Good. You may want to grit your teeth. I'll be as quick as I possibly can," she promised before laying the cloth against his back.
He gasped, before his whole body tensed and curled over with a gritted whine. Hayato flinched.
How the hell had the kid even gotten injured in the first place? He was fine when Hayato appeared. None of the fire got even close and – wait, that moment, when he was trying to get behind him. The dark haired boy had practically flattened him against the broom, covering him with his body.
Had that been when – had he really tried to protect him with his own body?
An odd feeling filled him.
Only Juudaime had ever done that for him.
Saving his life despite not even knowing a damn thing about him, just that he, Hayato, was putting his, Tsuna's, life in danger.
And now this kid does the same thing, shielding him from a dragon, instead of his own dynamite. And unlike Juudaime, getting hurt in the process to protect him using his own body. And then, when medical help was right there, shoving Hayato forward first to get checked, just in case.
A hard lump settled in his throat, making it difficult to breathe as he set the egg down on a side table and marched forward, crouching down in front of the kid and grabbing his hands. Hands that were causing himself harm as he dug his nails into the thin flesh of his arms.
"Hey, listen, you need to breathe, okay? Pay attention to my voice. I need you to breathe in, deeply, there. Hold it. Hold it. And now breathe out slowly. All the way. Good. In again. Hold it. Yeah, you can squeeze my hands if you need to," he said, keeping his voice gentle, the same voice he used when handling Uri at her most distressed. He didn't do this gentle thing often, but he could if he had to. He didn't notice, or care, about the approving glance the Matron shot him as she dabbed the green potion onto the slashes.
"Done," the Matron announced, pulling her hands away. "Now, let that sit in the open air for a while. I'll be back in a few minutes to close the wound. Can I trust you to keep an eye on him?" she asked sternly, pinning Hayato in place with a Look. The very same look he had seen on Reborn's face once or twice.
He found himself nodding almost without thought.
Sniffing, the woman nodded briskly to him and corked the potion bottle and bustled out of the tent, Hayato could hear her moving next door and heard her say, "How does it feel now, Diggory?". So, Harry wasn't the only one facing a dragon, and he wasn't the only one who had been hurt. What the hell was going on in this place? Why were they throwing kids against dragons?
But Hayato stayed where he was, the dark haired boy doing his best to crush his hands but, really, he just didn't have the strength. He continued to breathe as Hayato had told him to though, which was good.
Just then, the tent flap opened, and two people burst in. A brown haired girl with wide fearful brown eyes, and a red headed boy with a face full of freckles, freckles that stood out starkly on his white, almost grey, skin.
The girl took a step forward, and then visibly restrained herself, Hayato noticed her eyes were puffy and red rimmed, there were fingernail marks on her face as well, from where she had been clutching it in fear. "Harry, you were brilliant!" she squeaked, her voice shaking almost as hard as she was. "You were amazing! You really were!"
But when Harry opened his eyes, it wasn't her he looked at, it was the red headed boy. Whom he still recognised despite his eyes being unable to focus on him properly. Friends then, Hayato concluded.
Red swallowed, "Harry," he said very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet – I – I reckon they're trying to do you in!" he managed to choke out.
Wait, he wasn't in this thing willingly?
"Caught on, have you?" Harry asked tightly, his voice cold, Hayato could feel his hands shaking. "Took you long enough," he snapped before grunting a little in pain and turning away from the red head who looked uncertain and hurt and scared all at once. "You're not supposed to do that, Ron. Not you..." he managed to gasp out, his voice high with pain as he shook under the effects of the potion, his eyes squeezing shut.
Red flinched, "Harry..."
"You were the one who rescued me from the Dursleys during Second Year. You went with me to the Chamber of Secrets. You went with me to see Aragog even though you were terrified of spiders. You helped me save Hermione from that Troll. You're not... you're not supposed to turn on me like them," he said miserably, his voice breaking in the painfully silent tent. Even Diggory and the matron in the next tent over had gone quiet, likely as not listening in. "You're my bestfriend, ever since that first day on the train in First Year. You stood between me and a murderer on a broken leg last year, what happened?! What did I do between then and now that made you hate me so much that you wouldn't even listen to me? ...You know me. They don't. I don't care what they say, because the don't know me, and you would believe me, but... you didn't. What happened, Ron? What did I do wrong?" he choked, gasping against the pain in his back. "You... Everyone else does this. They love me one minute and hate me the next whenever someone says something, and they never bother to hear what I have to say, or how I feel, or whether or not it's even true! You're not supposed to do that! You're better than them! You're my friend! You were my friend! You... you're supposed to believe me..." he whispered.
Hayato squeezed his hands and glared at the miserable looking red head.
"Out. Now," he commanded, glaring at the smaller boy who jerked, staring at him in shock.
"You can't - "
"I can and I will!" he snarled, giving the boy's hands another squeeze before getting to his feet. "In case you haven't noticed, his back's been flayed open and you're certainly not helping, so get out! Now! Before I throw you out head first!" he barked, looming over the red head who took a startled step back, clearly not used to being the shorter one given his height over the other two.
He didn't dare look at the girl who was staring at them with wide, wet brown eyes, unsure of whether or not she should step between them or let it happen. Hmph, clearly she was friends with them both and this little worm had put her in the middle of this entire fight, what a shit excuse for a friend! Not only turning on someone without hearing their side of it, but putting someone else in the middle. It was like looking into a mirror of his worst qualities as a teenager before Juudaime sorted him out, and he fucking hated reminders!
The glint of promised, and growing, violence in his eyes had the red head retreating backwards a few steps, his blue eyes glancing beseechingly at Harry who was hunched over, shaking as he tried to swallow back the pain coming from his still open back. And then he left, receiving no help from anyone within the tent.
Hayato looked sharply at the girl who trembled a little but shook her head, no, she wasn't going to leave.
He sniffed grumpily and marched back to Harry.
"Who... are you?" the girl asked warily, looking as if she wanted to get between him and her friend but unsure if she could manage it, or even if that was what her friend wanted.
He gave her a look, "Hayato Gokudera, and you?" he asked, trying to at least remain polite. He had grown up a lot from the angry at the world brat who would sooner cram dynamite up that red head's nose than let him leave unharmed for turning on his friend like that.
"H-Hermione Granger," she said.
Hayato blinked, "Hermione, as in, Shakespeare Hermione?" he asked curiously.
She gaped, "You know Shakespeare?" she spluttered.
He frowned, "Who doesn't?" he asked.
"Most everyone you're ever going to meet at this school," she admitted, "With the exception of muggleborns and muggle-raised like Harry and I," she added gesturing to the dark haired boy.
Hayato blinked, "Muggleborn? What's that?"
The look on her face did not bode well.
000
And done! /dies.
Ten pages. Never again. I will never again write something so long.
Also, I need to put this down: The concept of Shamal, Bianchi, and Romeo being former Guardians to Noveno's sons belongs to Reighost. Including that Romeo was responsible for getting him killed.