Disclaimer: Obviously...
My first Reborn fanfic. No begging to go easy on me. Rip away.
This story doesn't take place in any specific time, so there might be minor chronological jumbling of details.
This is mainly meant to be about Gokudera and Tsuna, and Yamamoto. I definitely have my preferences as to pairings in the KHR verse, but I tried to keep this as canon as possible. (Meaning no specific pairings.) Enjoy.
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BANG
There was that deafening silence which always followed a gunshot. Tsuna was too familiar with it by now. It was through this veil of eerie quiet that he watched Yamamoto and Hibari leap forward and tear the intruder apart. It took less than a heartbeat. They were the best, after all.
Gokudera-kun?
Tsuna touched his chest and looked at his fingers. They came away clean. A little blackened, as could be expected. But dry.
Something was wrong. Why was Hibari…?
Over the years he had learned to see the path of a bullet as clearly as though it were laid in concrete. After all, he had shot many himself. But he felt no wound, no hot rush. The bullet had not reached its target.
Where is Gokdera-kun?
He had also come to be aware of the members of his family, always, as with the position of a limb. Just as he knew where his hand or his leg was, he felt his family around him.
Gokudera-kun?
It was a familiar sight to see the two of them ripping an enemy to bits. Flashing silver and black, like a pair of matched blades. Yamamoto and Gokudera, always protecting him. But there was no silver—only black. Hibari was there instead. Why? Hibari worked alone. Where was…?
No
Where was…?
Gokudera-kun!
Tsuna looked down, and the flash of silver that he had seen just before the explosion of the muzzle reconciled itself with the image swimming in front of his eyes. Didn't even use a silencer, drifted the completely irrelevant thought across his mind. How irresponsible…
He knelt, but he didn't feel himself doing it. His body went through the motions like a well-oiled machine. Like the well-oiled machine that it was. He opened his mouth. "Gokudera-kun," he spoke, distantly surprised at how ordinary his voice sounded. Shouldn't he be screaming, or whispering? But it was too much work, to wrap his head around what he should be doing, so he gave it up and did what he could instead. "Gokudera-kun?"
The green-gray eyes, dreadfully clear, stared back at him. "Juudaime," came the familiar voice, only a little lower than its usual tone. "Are you hurt?"
Tsuna shook his head, vigorously, and then kept shaking it as though it would clear the image of the stain slowly spreading itself across the front of Gokudera's shirt. In the dim light, it looked unreal, like an encroaching black parasite. "No, no," said Tsuna, reaching out, hovering, afraid to touch, afraid not to. "Gokudera-kun. Are you all right?"
It was a stupid question, but Gokudera-kun had always been tolerant of stupid questions from Tsuna. Only a pained smile came as an answer, and Tsuna tried desperately to tell himself that it was an affirmative, that the next thing to come out of his mouth, obnoxiously loud as usual, would be, "Of course I'm all right! Don't worry about me, Juudaime!"
But it didn't come. The long fingers twitched, and Tsuna reached out and took them, helpless, as they convulsed once around his own. The metal rings dug into his skin, burning. The acrid stink of burning filled Tsuna's nose, belatedly drifting across his benumbed senses, but it was the wrong kind. Gokudera always smelled faintly of gunpowder, but that was different—old-school explosive. This reeked of cordite. Of gunshot. And it seemed the final affront, that Gokudera should have to—among this offensive stench that Tsuna had never liked—
"Gokudera-kun." Hating the note of desperation in his voice, Tsuna tentatively reached out his other hand and grasped Gokudera's shoulder. It was limp, and Tsuna recoiled. "H-Hey, Gokudera-kun! Hang on, okay? We'll get you to Shamal. Only—you have to stay awake, Gokudera-kun…"
The silence remained. As the ringing in his ears faded, the artificial silence crafted by the shot morphed into real silence—frightening silence. The only audible sounds were Yamamoto and Hibari's harsh breaths, from across the room. They were oddly loud, cutting through the soundless atmosphere. And his own heartbeat, thundering in his ears…
"Tsuna."
Tsuna raised his head. "Reborn."
The small figure leaped and landed lightly on Gokudera's chest. Tsuna started. "Reborn! Stop! Get off! You'll hurt him! He's hurt! Can't you see he's hurt…?" He felt a sharp pain in his hand, and looked down. He hadn't realized he was clutching Gokudera's hand, holding it so hard that one of his rings had cut him. It didn't matter. "Reborn! Get off!"
Reborn's voice was uncharacteristically quiet as he bent down and fished a chain from around Gokudera's neck. "Tsuna, he's gone."
"No!" Tsuna cut him off. He didn't want to hear it. "He'll be okay!" He dropped Gokudera's hand—its motionlessness was beginning to frighten him. Stumbling back, he rose to his feet. "He'll be okay," he added, desire forcing conviction into his voice. "He's taken a bullet for me before! And he was fine, two days later! He's even tougher now. And the bullet didn't—didn't hit him anywhere critical…" He trailed off, trying desperately to erase the picture that his too-fast eyes had caught for him. He wished, wished to god he hadn't seen… but his eyes were as well-trained as the rest of him, and with the flash of silver that had intercepted the bullet, he had seen Gokudera's body jerk. The impact had been in his chest—slightly lower than his heart—which was all that was keeping Tsuna's hope alive—it couldn't have hit his heart—couldn't have—he had spoken to him, just seconds ago—he must be all right—
"It punctured a lung, Tsuna." The black eyes looked steadily up at him. "It's no use. Even Shamal can't bring him back."
"No." Tsuna looked down at Gokudera's still form. The only thing that continued to move was the stain, now filling the entirety of his shirt and beginning to drip darkly onto the floor. Hastily he tore his eyes away. He didn't dare look at Gokudera's face, so he looked up—and around—into the faces of everybody else. Ryohei was grim, Hibari immobile, letting the blood drip off his tonfas in a cruel echo of Gokudera's, Basil full of mute horror, Dino's jaw clenched tight… Even the children were silent. Tsuna flinched when he saw Bianchi, completely expressionless, her skin blazing pallor. But it was the pain on Yamamoto's face that undid him.
"No!" he cried. Reaching blindly out, he grabbed Reborn's shirt, and didn't find room to be surprised that Reborn let him. "Reborn! Do something!" But Reborn did not respond, and Tsuna began to shake, grief uncoiling like a burning snake in his gut. He had seen too many deaths for the denial to last long. He almost wished it would; he wished for a moment that he could delude himself that Reborn was lying, was pulling one of his characteristic tricks, or that Gokudera would miraculously pull himself up as he had so many times… "Reborn… do something… please," he whispered brokenly, feeling as though he would sink to his knees, discovering they were locked too tight to do so. "There must be something… anything…"
Reborn did not speak nor move for a long time, and Tsuna had forgotten to hope for a reply, when one came: "There is something…"
It took a moment for the words to sink through the faint haze that was beginning to cloud his head. He meant to snap his head up, but the motion was sluggish, as though moving through molasses. "…What?"
"I said, there is something," Reborn repeated. "You said anything, right?"
"What is it?" Tsuna's grip tightened. "Reborn! Tell me! Will it help Gokudera-kun?"
But instead of answering, Reborn stared up at Tsuna. "Tsuna. How much do you want Gokudera back?"
"How much…?" Tsuna opened his mouth, and forced out a hollow laugh for lack of anything else to say. He winced as it came out; even to him, it sounded dead. "I'll do anything," he whispered, with what voice he had left. "Anything. That's what Gokudera-kun would have done for me, right? Even if I need to trade my life for his… so be it."
"Tsuna!" came Dino and Ryohei's protests. But they only registered distantly. Tsuna kept his eyes focused on Reborn's, which were now looking solemn indeed.
"Careful, Tsuna," rebuked Reborn. "That's not something you say lightly. You have responsibilities to lives other than your own."
"It's not said lightly," grated out Tsuna between clenched teeth. "And I know. Why do you think…?"
"You're missing the point," interrupted Reborn. But his tone was still grave. "But you're not far off the mark in assuming that's what it may take. You're only lucky it won't require your life. Don't promise it away so easily."
Tsuna bit back his remark. "If there's something you can do, Reborn, do it. I don't care about the cost."
Reborn shook his head. "I can't do anything, Tsuna." Out of the corner of his eye, Tsuna saw Leon crawl down to Reborn's hand, shimmer and morph into the familiar gun. "But you can."
He was only taken aback for half a second. Perhaps not even. This was very characteristic of his dealings with Reborn. It had always been him. He waited.
"It's very dangerous."
Tsuna nodded. "I expected as much." His hand was still shaking. With an effort, Tsuna stilled it.
Reborn looked down at Leon. "It's a special bullet. But it's not like the others. I'm not even certain Leon can produce it. He never has before. As far as I know, it's been forbidden in the Vongola family for generations, because of its dangerous potential. But..." Reborn raised his head and looked at Tsuna again. "The First used it. Even after it had been forbidden. In fact, he'd forbidden it himself. But he used it. To save his friend."
Tsuna nodded again, numbly. He understood. Never more so than now. He thought that perhaps, sometime after this was over (would it ever be over?), he might find the presence of mind to be surprised at the immediacy and the depth of his certainty that he needed Gokudera, needed him like he needed water, needed air. Or perhaps it wasn't so surprising. It was the same way with all his friends. And he found himself only realizing it when they were being torn away from him... "Reborn. What will it do?"
Yamamoto watched as Reborn spoke to Tsuna. He was near enough to hear, but the words were far from reaching his ears. He only knew that the expression on Tsuna's face had transformed from unimaginable despair to one of desperate hope, and that was all that was keeping him standing right then. Reborn must be telling him that there was something, that Gokudera was not gone. But that wasn't possible, was it? Because Gokudera was gone. He'd felt it in a way that he had never expected to, felt the moment that Gokudera's heartbeat cut off like his own breath being ripped from his body. Instinctively his hands drifted down towards his body, to staunch the sudden gushing wound which must be there, and wasn't. He let out a breath, shock mingled with a bewildered, twisted sort of laugh. Wasn't there supposed to be some kind of shock stage involved? But there wasn't—only pain. He didn't know what hurt more—the knowledge that they had lost Gokudera, or the knowledge that Tsuna had lost Gokudera. They were all family, and none of them could take this easily. But Tsuna... Tsuna would never forgive himself. Especially because, and Yamamoto could almost—almost—laugh because it was so like him—the bullet had been meant for Tsuna. Any of them would have done it for him, Yamamoto knew, and yet Gokudera had been the only one that could. It was right, somehow. And terribly, horribly wrong.
Reborn nodded and held the handle of Leon out to Tsuna. Tsuna took it, his look vaguely questioning. I haven't shot Leon before. He didn't say it out loud, but he never needed to, with Reborn. "I can't shoot it," Reborn explained. "It wouldn't do any good. It has to be shot by the person most important to him, and even then there's no guarantee that it'll work."
"Most important..." Tsuna looked down at the gun. "But..." He felt like denying it, but he knew it was true. He couldn't bear to meet Bianchi's eyes right now.
But Bianchi spoke, catching him by surprise. "Do it, Tsuna." Tsuna looked up, startled. Bianchi's gaze was intense. "Reborn's right. No one was more important to Gokudera than you. Even," she said, holding up a hand to ward off Tsuna's protest, "his sister."
"They're right, Tsuna," said Dino. Tsuna's head swiveled. "I count myself lucky to have the subordinates I do, and even I've never seen the amount of devotion that Gokudera-kun showed you. I don't think there's any doubt in anyone's mind that, if what Reborn says is true, it has to be you, Tsuna."
No one else spoke. But Tsuna didn't think he could bear it if anyone else did. It was already painfully throbbing under his breastbone, the knowledge that Gokudera had—he couldn't think the word—for him. In the end, Tsuna had always known that it would be for him. But he had selfishly hoped that, perhaps, he would be the first to go.
Slowly, Tsuna raised the gun, shifting his grip into its familiar position. Leon felt disturbingly comfortable, much lighter than any other gun he'd handled, and curiously malleable. Some detached part of him thought it was wrong that such a deadly weapon should look so cheerful, like a toy.
"Tsuna." It was Reborn. "Are you sure about this? There's a very high risk, and Gokudera's life isn't the only one at stake. And even if it does work... I've already told you. It may not be anything like what you're familiar with. Don't expect anything, Tsuna. You'll only be disappointed."
Tsuna nodded, tightening his grip. "I know. I'm prepared."
"Then do it." Reborn looked around at the others. "The rest of you, out. We'll wait outside. There's no telling what that bullet's going to do in an enclosed space."
There was a beat of tense silence. Dino moved first, gently guiding I-Pin and Lambo towards the door that led to the rest of the huge, dingy warehouse, looming like a dark behemoth ready to swallow them and their misery. Hibari brushed by Tsuna in a sweep of black, followed by Ryohei, his stiff shoulders shocked and angry, but not at anything perceptible. Basil hesitated before passing Tsuna, hand twitching as though to put one on the young Vongola's shoulder, then appeared to think better of it, turning and heading out the door. Bianchi picked up Reborn and paused a long moment before walking out.
When she reached the others, huddled subdued a good distance away from the door, she turned and looked back. Yamamoto was still in the doorway, looking over his shoulder, not moving.
"Oi," she called tonelessly. "What are you doing? Hurry up."
Yamamoto looked at them, plainly torn. "I—I'm going to stay with Tsuna," he said, his voice strained.
"That's not a good idea," said Reborn, but Yamamoto had already forced the rusty door shut with a screech of metal, his usual smile laced with anguish.
They watched the door, holding their breath. An eternity seemed to pass.
BANG
To be continued