Disclaimer: Look, If I owned Reborn, I would not be running around frantically looking for fanfics to satisfy my sudden craving for 8059. Really. I would just make it cannon. Since it's not (completely) cannon, I obviously don't own Reborn.
A/N: Alright, I've gone through nearly every single 8059 fic, and so here I am writing my own (sort of). It's not blatantly that pairing though, if you really can't stand yaoi (coughDilloncough). Mainly I thought that no one had really written anything from TYLGokudera coming to the past, so I thought it would be fun to try it out. So, let's see how it goes.
--
Some things just never changed, even after nearly ten years, Gokudera mused as he looked down the sunny and familiar street of the past. Everything looked the same, and yet…it wasn't the same. The 10th was dead. Dead.
Or maybe not quite. After all, the 10th from the past, the little fifteen year old, was still alive and well, right? And once he came back, he could change the past so the future that Gokudera knew all too well would never exist. He had no idea what would happen to him, to everyone if, no when that happened, but he didn't care. Much better to disappear into the mists of time than to let the 10th die.
But something was wrong, Gokudera noticed, his jade green eyes narrowing. He glanced at the silver watch strapped on his wrist. Surely it had already been more than five minutes? Surely he should have already been whisked back into the bleak future, and his past self and the past 10th should have already been back here and trying to fix things? What was going on?
He shifted a few times in place uneasily, waiting for the wrenching feeling of disappearing and reappearing in his proper time. But nothing happened. He felt a trickle of dread creep up his spine. This was all wrong. They definitely should have been back by now.
"Gokudera!" a familiar cheerful voice called out.
Gokudera spun around, and groaned. Like hell, this was not happening. He really didn't feel like explaining to the past Yamamoto why he was suddenly older, and was this part of the game? Especially when there were more pressing issues at hand. He moved to run away, but Yamamoto slung an arm familiarly over his shoulder, grinning.
"Wow, did you get taller Gokudera?" Yamamoto laughed, only barely managing to wrap an arm around Gokudera's shoulder.
Gokudera shrugged off Yamamoto's arm, "Get off."
Yamamoto laughed again, and stared at him, before frowning. "Wow, you do look a lot older Gokudera. Is this another part of the game?"
Gokudera pushed past him, "No, you idiot. Out of my way."
Yamamoto grabbed Gokudera by the arm, "Hey, hey, what's the rush? Something wrong with Tsuna?" he asked worriedly, eyebrows suddenly knitting together.
Gokudera opened his mouth and then closed it. What was he supposed to say? The 10th from his time was dead, and the 10th from this time had been hurled into that dangerous time as well. Things were very wrong indeed.
Yamamoto's expression darkened, "So something is wrong," he stated, slinging the baseball bat across his shoulder, "Does it have to do with why you look older?"
"Sort of," mumbled Gokudera, inwardly berating himself. He didn't have time to explain things to the baseball freak, especially not the one from ten years ago. He had to figure out what was going on right now. He moved to get away, but once again Yamamoto shifted to block his path.
"Why don't you tell me what's going on?" Yamamoto asked his voice now devoid of any traces of humor and as serious as during any battle. Gokudera's eyes widened, it felt as though the Yamamoto from his present was in front of him. Those eyes, that stance…he shook his head. No matter how experienced this Yamamoto was, he still wasn't at the level he needed to be at for the Millefiore bastards.
"Fuck off," Gokudera spat out, shoving Yamamoto away, and striding away as fast as he could. He didn't get far before Yamamoto grabbed him by the arm again.
"Hey," Yamamoto said with the same deadly intensity, "This is serious, isn't it? Are you sure you can handle it alone?"
"What?" snarled Gokudera, impulsively drawing out three sticks of dynamite, "I'm the 10th's right-hand man! I'm—"
He stopped. Right-hand man? The 10th was dead. What a joke. Some right-hand man he'd made. He'd never deserved the title, it probably should have been Yamamoto all along…then maybe the 10th wouldn't be dead in a coffin.
And his younger self had foolishly charged in, not knowing anything of the situation. He knew that he had been much more impulsive ten years ago, and that time had managed to temper that down, but he felt sick at the thought of it. Maybe if he had listened more when he was younger, maybe if he had heeded what ever Yamamoto had said…
"Come on," said Yamamoto, taking advantage of Gokudera's sudden silence, to propel him down the street with him, "Let's go talk about this at my place."
By the time Gokudera had snapped out of his reverie, Yamamoto had already managed to push him into the sushi store and was greeting his father, "Hey dad!"
His father turned around from chopping the sushi, "Hello! Who's that?"
Yamamoto grinned, "It's Gokudera!"
His father blinked and peered at Gokudera closely, "…you grew a lot, didn't you?" he asked, squinting.
Gokudera shifted awkwardly in place, "…yeah?" he suggested, looking away. In his world, in his time, Yamamoto's father was dead. But here he was, alive and well, chopping sushi up as skillfully as ever.
Yamamoto's father shrugged, turning his attention back to the sushi, "Well, alright. Are you staying for dinner, Gokudera-kun?"
Gokudera opened his mouth and then closed it. He didn't know what was going on with the 10-year bazooka, or if he was going to be yanked away at any time, although that seemed more and more unlikely as time passed. Yamamoto quickly spoke up for him, "Yeah he is dad."
Yamamoto's father nodded, still chopping up the sushi, "Okay then. I'll be running some errands tonight, so you boys behave, alright?"
Yamamoto nodded happily, while Gokudera just looked around the store. It was the same as he had remembered. A bit of a pokey place, but clean and comfortable all the same. The smell of fish and rice seemed to be permanently settled around, but that was to be expected. He had spent many idle days here, arguing with the baseball freak, and agreeing with whatever the 10th said.
Yamamoto gently pushed him up the stairs to his room, closing the door softly behind him, and turning to Gokudera, "So," he said, all signs of frivolity wiped from his features, "explain."
Gokudera considered Yamamoto, his gaze then flicking to the sword that sat by the baseball bat in the room. It was all so familiar, and just made his current situation even more terrible. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts together to make a coherent statement, "I—the10th—he's—" he stumbled through the words, unable to say it.
Yamamoto looked closely at him, "You're from Lambo's toy aren't you?" he asked softly, "That one that always brings that guy in the cow-pattern clothes."
Gokudera drew out a cigarette, and lit it while opening the window with practiced ease, "Something like that," he admitted, blowing out a stream of smoke.
"What happened to Tsuna?" Yamamoto asked simply, eyes focused on Gokudera.
Gokudera took a deep breath, grimacing, "He's dead," he said flatly, looking out the window, "At least, in my time, he is."
Yamamoto nodded slowly, "That's kind of what I thought when I saw you," he stated calmly, "So where's the Tsuna I know?"
Gokudera ran a hand through his silver hair, "He went to my time, and I think he's still there. I don't know what's wrong with that dumb cow's stupid bazooka," he said in frustration, chewing on his cigarette.
"Ahahahaha," Yamamoto laughed, his former seriousness gone, "Lambo really does have some really cool toys doesn't he?"
Gokudera snorted, sucking in another lungful of smoke and deciding against trying to enlighten Yamamoto. It didn't work. He should know after all these years of dealing with the idiot.
"So if Tsuna went to your time," Yamamoto mused, idly shifting in his seat, "Then the Gokudera I know is there too?"
Gokudera nodded, his fist suddenly clenching, "They're going to both die out there if Lal or that idiot don't find them fast," he muttered softly to himself.
Yamamoto tilted his head to the left, "Who's Lal?" he asked curiously, "And are you talking about future me?"
Gokudera flicked the cigarette ashes out the window, "Lal is like Reborn," he explained, "and what other idiot do I know?"
Yamamoto laughed, leaning back against the wall easily, "That's true. But they should be fine then, with all those people there."
"The 10th should have been fine in my time, and he died," Gokudera snapped, eyes narrowed suddenly into slits, "Fucking died."
Yamamoto's smile slid off his face like rain dripping down a window, "Yeah, there's that," he commented softly, "There's that. How'd that happen anyway?"
Gokudera didn't answer, instead biting down on his cigarette and flicking open and shut his lighter slowly, staring at it. Yamamoto watched Gokudera's actions for awhile before sighing and standing up. "I guess you should probably stay here for now," he commented, dragging out a futon, "You don't have anywhere else to stay, do you?"
"Why should I stay here?" Gokudera demanded angrily, looking up from the lighter.
"Well," mused Yamamoto, laying down a few blankets and a pillow, "if you appear at Tsuna's house, it'll get really weird. You probably don't have the key to present Gokudera's apartment, and I don't think there's anywhere else you could go. Is there?"
"No," groused Gokudera, looking back at the lighter, "but won't your dad mind?"
Yamamoto shook his head, grinning, "Why should he? We love company! Hope you like sushi more than present Gokudera does."
Gokudera shrugged, "Don't know about my 15 year old self, but anything's better than Bianchi's cooking," he muttered, taking one last drag on the cigarette before crushing it on the window sill, and tossing it out of the window.
"Really?" Yamamoto said in surprise, "Present Gokudera's always complaining about the sushi though. How it's too cold and stuff."
"Oh. Well—" Gokudera began and then stopped, coughing. "I suppose I was a difficult child."
"Ahahahaha," Yamamoto laughed loudly, grin growing wider on his face, "If you want to put it that way, I guess. So you really don't mind our sushi?"
"What does it matter?" snarled Gokudera, hunching into a bit of a defensive crouch, "I ate it, didn't I?"
"I guess so," Yamamoto said good-naturedly, grin still sticking to his face, "So do you know when you're going back?"
"If I did would I still be here?" snapped Gokudera, smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit.
"Are they really in that much danger?" Yamamoto asked curiously, opening the door to leave and help his dad man the shop.
"The Millefiore family's determined to crush the Vongola family out of existence," Gokudera said darkly, drawing out another cigarette, "They managed to kill the 10th in my time. How safe do you think they are?"
Yamamoto's eyes darkened as he nodded slowly, "I see then," he said slowly, staring at the wall, "Well, you rest up and I'll get food."
Gokudera put the cigarette in his mouth, but didn't light it as he watched Yamamoto carefully close the door and go down. He was so tired, but he couldn't take a break. He had to figure out how to get the 10th back to his own time, or…or, could he himself manage to kill the child Shoichi Irie? That was a possibility that he had not considered before.
He should do that right now, find that child and put everything back to how it should have been, but he couldn't make himself stand, and his eyes were losing the fight to stay open. How long had it been since he had last slept? He wasn't sure and he was so tired…
--
"Hey, Gokudera."
Gokudera grunted, and turned over. Stupid baseball freak, he muddily thought, It's too early for this. I'll bomb him out of the mansion if he really tries to wake me up.
A hand grasped his shoulder and shook him gently, "Gokudera? You want to get up now?"
Gokudera opened his eyes blearily, hand reaching for a few sticks of dynamite to teach the idiot a few lessons with, when he realized that while the person crouched in front of him had the same messy hairstyle and gold eyes as Yamamoto, he was shorter and missing the scar on his chin. What…?
He bolted up as the events of the past day rushed back to him. How he could be so stupid as to fall asleep? The 10th was in danger, and he had fallen asleep? This was why the 10th from his time was dead, this was why he had failed, this was why Yamamoto would have made a better right-hand man than him—
"Hey!" greeted Yamamoto anxiously, waving a hand in front of Gokudera's face, "You okay?"
"What time is it?" he growled out, glancing around the room for a clock.
"Nearly noon," Yamamoto replied, staring at Gokudera worriedly, "You fell asleep before dinner, and didn't wake up until now. Are you okay?"
"Fine," muttered Gokudera, straightening his wrinkled suit, "I've got to go somewhere. Now."
Yamamoto shrugged, popping open an energy drink, "Alright. But can we stop by Tsuna's house first?"
"You can go by yourself," Gokudera responded cuttingly, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to get it neat, "I've got business to take care of."
"Ahahahaha," Yamamoto laughed, grabbing his baseball bat, "What business? Come on, come with me, I guarantee it'll be really quick."
"No," Gokudera instantly replied, face hardening, "don't you get it? Every second counts, the 10th could be—"
"I'm sure Tsuna can take care of himself," Yamamoto stated quietly, slinging his baseball bat over his shoulder, "and plus, you're there, aren't you? Well, the present—I mean past—hold on wait, the—"
"I get it," Gokudera cut Yamamoto off, "So what if I'm there? Look how well that turned out with the 10th of my time! I was supposed to be his right-hand man!"
"Yes," replied Yamamoto calmly, "And it's all of our faults that he died then, not just yours. It was all of our responsibilities to keep him safe, and we all failed in your time. So don't get too full of yourself."
"Full of—!" Gokudera sputtered, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You like to pile all of the blame onto yourself and angst about it," explained Yamamoto, opening the door, "But you shouldn't. Come on then, let's go."
"You can't just—and who said I was going with you?" demanded Gokudera as Yamamoto hooked an arm around his neck and managed to push him out the door.
"Just a quick stop," Yamamoto said good-naturedly, "then you can go do whatever you have to do, okay?"
Despite of Gokudera's many protests and curses, Yamamoto actually managed to drag him out of the house, cheerily waving to his dad as they went out. Once down the street, Gokudera managed to get Yamamoto's sturdy arm off of his neck and say, "Fine, I'll come with you. What do you want from there anyway?"
"Just…want to check something," Yamamoto replied vaguely, "What's your business anyway?"
Gokudera opened his mouth to tell him, but then shut it when his brain pointed out that while the Yamamoto he knew wouldn't so much as blink an eye when told about an assassination mission, this Yamamoto wasn't the same. He was younger, and hadn't even killed Squalo in the Rain Ring Match. He wasn't the calm killing machine yet, and that was the one Gokudera was mostly comfortable with. "Nothing that would interest you," he bit out angrily, irritated at missing the Yamamoto from his time.
Yamamoto simply grinned as they walked in front of Tsuna's house. Gokudera hung back, unsure if it was a good idea to be seen by more people from the past and let Yamamoto go in. As soon as Yamamoto walked up to the door, out sprang Haru who was frantically talking to Kyoko right next to her who was worriedly patting I-pin's head, "And no one has seen any of them! How is that possible? You don't think—"
She stopped when she spotted Yamamoto, and then pointed an accusing finger at him, "You! Where have you been also?"
Yamamoto laughed while scratching his head, "I was busy?" he offered, "So what's going on?"
Kyoko put a hand on Haru's shoulder to prevent her from launching into a long, overblown explanation and instead said worriedly, "Tsuna-kun, Gokudera-kun, and Reborn-kun have been missing since around yesterday, and we're looking for them. Have you seen them, Yamamoto-kun?"
"No," Yamamoto replied easily, "Where's Lambo?"
The 5 year old peeked out from behind Kyoko's leg, and then ducked behind again. Kyoko patted his black hair reassuringly, "He's been a bit scared of something," she said apologetically, "I'm not sure why though."
Yamamoto crouched down to Lambo's level and smiled. This smile though wasn't the same thoughtless grin the baseball idiot always sported, this was the one that made a chill go down Gokudera's spine and suddenly focus on what Yamamoto was doing. "Hey Lambo," Yamamoto said carelessly, "where's your toy?"
Lambo drew out the ten year bazooka from some unknown location, and then tucked it behind him.
"Why don't you play with it?" Yamamoto suggested.
Lambo shook his head, mumbling, "I'm not supposed to."
"Ah, but it would be fun!" Yamamoto laughed a sharper sound than Gokudera was used to, "Come on!"
Gokudera had had enough. That voice, that smile, that laugh, those were never good signs. That was the way Yamamoto always looked before he was about to go through something potentially dangerous and risky, and he couldn't let that happen because Yamamoto's shit usually turned into his own as well. Stepping forward, Gokudera came out from behind the wall where he had been leaning just as Lambo slowly cocked the bazooka. Gokudera cursed, running up to them, "Don't shoot that fucking—"
"See you," said Yamamoto light-heartedly in contrast to how serious his eyes were, as Lambo pulled the trigger, "Need to go help my Gokudera and Tsuna."
"Wait, you fucking—"
And poof, with a cloud of smoke, all of them were gone. Gokudera stared at the smoke in horror, "Imbecile," he finished dumbly, "Absolute moron. Scemo."
"Ahahaha," went a deeper, much more familiar voice from the smoke, "Sorry about that?"
Gokudera's eyes widened as the smoke cleared and the Yamamoto from his time stepped out, sword in hand, and glanced around. "Ah," he said simply, "I thought that my past self would probably be this impulsive when he found out where past you and Tsuna went, but this sure is bad timing…"
Gokudera grabbed him by the collar, "Where the hell is the 10th?" he yelled furiously, glaring at Yamamoto with murder in his eyes.
"In the middle of a battle," Yamamoto said calmly, "But—"
"You left him in the middle of a battle? With the Millefiore? By himself?" Gokudera screamed in rage.
"No," replied Yamamoto, as calm as ever although Gokudera was nearly hissing with wrath, "past you was getting the hang of the storm ring and the boxes. Past Tsuna was doing pretty well too. And Lal is there."
"Oh yes, big help, past me being there," Gokudera sneered, "Some help I was with the 10th—"
Yamamoto reached out and put a hand over the hand that was gripping him fiercely by the collar, "All of us are to blame," he said firmly, "You shouldn't heap all the guilt onto yourself."
Gokudera slowly dropped his grip from Yamamoto's collar, and flicked out a cigarette, "You know," he said quietly, fumbling for his lighter, "the past you said the same thing."
"Ahahaha," Yamamoto laughed, running a hand through his perpetually messy black hair, "Really? Did you know that the past you punched me in the face?"
Gokudera flushed, lighting his cigarette, "Should I say sorry?" he asked.
"No," Yamamoto replied, draping an arm over Gokudera's shoulders, "It was understandable, since he was blaming me for Tsuna's death."
Gokudera sucked in a deep breath of smoke and blew it out, "Come on then," he said, shrugging Yamamoto's arm off of him, "Let's go."
"Where are we going?" Yamamoto asked, slinging his sword over his shoulder.
"To Shoichi Irie's house," Gokudera said darkly, biting down hard on his cigarette.
"Ah," Yamamoto said, eyes darkening, "you know where it is?"
"It has to be around here," Gokudera said vaguely, waving around his cigarette in emphasis.
"Alright then," Yamamoto said happily, and then waved at Tsuna's house, "Are they coming too?"
"They?" Gokudera turned around to see the future Lambo, I-pin, Haru, and Kyoko all hanging back from them uncertainly. He shook his head, "No. This is a job for us to finish. Not them."
Yamamoto nodded, and then after they had walked around the corner, grinned, "So, did you miss me?" he asked eagerly.
Gokudera snorted, flicking the ash off of the tip of his cigarette, "Who would miss an idiot like you?" he replied angrily.
Yamamoto once against slung an arm around Gokudera's shoulder, "I bet you did," he stated happily.
Gokudera shoved him off again, "I did not," he muttered in irritation.
Yamamoto's smile grew wider, "It's good to see you back to your old self," he commented softly.
"Tch," Gokudera dropped his cigarette onto the ground and ground it with his foot, "You coming or not?" he called over his shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah," Yamamoto replied, walking faster to keep up with Gokudera's furious pace, "But you know, I think even if we can't find the house, our past selves were doing rather well. And plus, Senpai and Hibari are there, so I wouldn't worry. "
Gokudera stopped, "Are you telling me to have a little more faith in them?" he asked slowly, turning to Yamamoto.
"Basically," replied Yamamoto with a grin, "It'll be fine."
Gokudera sighed, and turned around and began walking again, "I know," he muttered, "but I'll leave you to be the optimist. I want to make sure things go right."
Yamamoto shrugged and continued walking with Gokudera down the street in search of Shoichi Irie's house.
--
A/N: ….ah, I really hope I didn't make this OOC. Did I? If I did, I'm really sorry…but TYL Gokudera is hard to write since we barely met him for what, 6 pages? Yamamoto is so much easier to write really, less mood swings. Oh, and scemo means idiot in Italian. I though that would be a nice touch. As for the ending…well, that's the best I could come up with. Please review!