He was no stranger to slim chances.
He was no stranger to the scenes of uncertainty that had once dominated his everyday life.
He is after all, a Mafioso.
And he'll always will be.
No amount of compassion, friendship, or trust could ever change that.
The silence was deafening, he could almost his fast paced heartbeat along with the monotonous tick of the clock mounted on the hospital's light colored walls of calming mint green. His hands gripping the knees of the pants Shamal gave him to change from his bloody ones.
He was immobilized, holding a tight lock on his jaw, his light jade eyes dared to move their gaze away from the white tiled floor. He already made the calls, after calling the Tenth he could feel himself grow taut with contained anger and frustration after the traces of panic and shock evaporated.
His gaze focused on the already gathered group, it compromised an unusually stern and quiet Sun Guardian and the female counterpart of the Mist Guardian who bore a look of genuine worry. The Shimon Family just arrived, but he only contacted them because it was standard procedure to inform the rest of what had happened.
He didn't ask them to come.
He wanted to tell them to fuck off but he might snap and turn into a rabid vengeance crazed animal. He always tells himself that 'theory thumps all' but there are some times where he listens more to his gut instead of his head.
Right now, his gut was telling him that Shimon has something to do with Yamamoto's current condition.
His gaze moved to observe the Shimon's baseball player and he couldn't help but feel the familiar prick of suspicion and caution strike him. He felt the same way with the Varia as well as when they when they faced Byakuran.
He could sense the faint aura of danger hang in the air.
His instincts told him to lash out on the group but his mind told him that he has no proof to condemn them as traitors. It was that last trace of logic that kept him from unleashing a heavy dose of killing intent in the atmosphere.
They're going to pay. He inwardly seethed, his long slender fingers forming a pair of tight shaking fists. And at that, a recent blood-spattered memory surfaced.
He was patrolling outside school territory when he received the frantic call.
"GOKUDERA!" he almost felt his eardrums burst when the senior's voice boomed through the cell phone's speaker.
"What's wrong?" He was about to curse the damn fool for shouting through the phone but the panicked catch in the tone alarmed him. He could feel a spike of adrenaline course through his veins when he immediately sensed that something terribly wrong happened.
"They got Yamamoto!" the three words were enough to make him rush directly towards Naminori Middle School.
As he ran, he was already calling for an ambulance, if he was right, then the baseball fanatic was in serious danger, aside from the fact that it was enough to make the boxer call him in such a state, a cold foreboding sensitivity was already sending his head into hyper drive.
"Gokudera-kun." The faint female voice, broke him from the recollection, lifting his head, light green eyes meet the deep violet gaze of the Mist.
"What." His voice was foreign cold and angry, he could bet that his glare was a lot harsher than usual.
"Is he…" she trailed off, seeing how the once burning tempests turn into cold and bright with unspoken rage.
"His condition is critical. There's a" he wasn't able to finish the statement for a loud resounding shout cut him off.
"HE'S GOING TO MAKE IT! THIS IS YAMAMOTO WE'RE TALKING ABOUT! HE DOESN'T GO DOWN THAT EASILY!" there was a certain ferocity in those grey eyes that burned with anger and resolve, but he saw them falter slightly when his cold stare met them.
"Exactly." That was the only words he spoke, he allowed the words to set in. He knew the older teen what it meant, if Yamamoto was taken down, it means everyone is in grave danger.
"HE'S GOING TO MAKE IT!" the grey orbs still burned, but he could see the words were also used to assure them.
"You found him. You healed him. Well tried to…" he trailed, waiting for the expected outburst of protest, it didn't come.
Once again, silence enveloped them.
And once again the images played with startling clarity.
He knew it wasn't going to be pretty.
But that knowledge didn't spare him from the shock that engulfed him at the sight before him.
Dark ruby liquid stained the once light walls of the locker room, the light splashing sounds his feet made when he made contact with the flooding red beneath him when neared the comrade.
He wanted to choke.
He felt a rising wave of nausea when his sensitive nose took up the thick rusty smell of blood.
There, he finally admitted it.
It was blood.
It is the life supporting liquid that flows though the body, distributing oxygen and nutrients to keep the various systems of organs from crashing down into a useless pile of flesh.
Back there, he was seeing the very liquid seep out like an overflowing stream, he remembered when he swallowed the brief sensation of vertigo as his eyes presented him the image of his fallen friend lying in a pool of his own blood.
"Yamamoto." The rest of the words were held be an invisible cork in his throat, keeping him from speaking anything else. He could faintly hear the boxer's shouting.
Frustrated attempts…
To fix.
To heal.
To save.
He thought in grim memory.
"YAMAMATO!" the frustrated sound of a chocked out sob snapped him from the shocked state, gathering his wits and proceeded to make an emergency call, the ambulance won't make it in time. Light ragged breaths were the only indication of life in the bloodied being dying before him along with the faint easily obliterated pulse on the swordsman's carotid artery.
We need Shamal. he panicked in thought.
In that moment, he didn't dare hope.
It would be too much.
To fool himself into believing all was going to be fine would only make things worse.
He was no stranger to death.
He was no stranger to the bloody scenes of fatality that had once dominated his everyday life.
He is after all, a Mafioso.
And he'll always will be.
No amount of compassion, friendship, or trust could ever change that.
He had seen far too much in the Mafia World, he knows he could never go back to being the naïve sliver haired pianist he once was.
So why?
Why could he barely make himself steady at the sight before him?
What's so different about it compared to many death scenes he had witnessed, he had created?
But he already knew the answer.
Unlike the previous times where he was a mere spectator or even the initiator of such things, he never placed himself in the receiving end.
He wasn't there to see the tears and wails of pain and sadness when the mangled corpse was brought back to their loved ones. He wasn't there to feel the gnawing feelings of guilt and regret when dead emotionless orbs stare at you blankly.
His jaw clenched even tighter as more memories came.
"WHAT THE HELL IS TAKING THE DAMN ABULANCE TOO LONG?" the loud voice was welcoming, it kept him anchored, it kept him from delving deeper into the dark twisted mess that he calls his past.
"I-I don't know." He said, the completely opposite to his regular volume, he felt a gaze directed at him, the gray orbs were in panic, frustration brimming at the edges, he couldn't help but know that he too mirrored the same look.
"WELL, WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!" came the reply, he only gritted his teeth taking his phone once more and hope that this person would answer this time.
He watched and waited for the person to answer the phone.
"Hello?" it was a bored sigh, he could already hear hints of a slight intoxicated state.
"We need you." It was a miracle that he in some way, managed to get through the sentence in a calm manner.
"Hayato, I only tr – " the sentence stayed unfinished, as the doctor was cut off by a desperate shaking voice full of panic and fear.
"P-PLEASE! Y-You're t-the only d-doctor we have! Yamamoto's r-really hurt. BAD DAMMIT! S-So get you're a-ass down he-here in the lo-lockers NOW!" he shook, any semblance of the former calm crumbled when a strained chocked gasp reached his ears.
Yamamoto was already chocking in own his blood.
He didn't hear the alarmed snap of disconnection. His was already on his knees, ignoring the soaking warmth that touched his knees, staining the cloth with the crimson fluid.
"DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON US!" he shouted, finally finding his voice while the boxer was again trying desperately close the wound with his Sun Attribute.
"It's too deep." He whispered to himself as the gaping hole refused to close.
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE TENTH'S GUARDIAN! THE INHERITANCE IS LIKE HOURS AWAY! SO DON'T DIE, YOU BASEBALL IDIOT!" he screamed, hoping that the words would keep him fighting, keep him alive.
"Come on, Yamamoto. You're stronger than this." he was practically begging, he held up his hand, sparking a faint yellow flame upon the ring. He held up the faint light near the wound in a vain fruitless effort to help.
"WHAT THE HELL?" he heard the familiar gruff voice, he never thought that he'd ever feel relief upon Dr. Shamal's arrival.
"Have you called anyone else for help?" the doctor asked nearing Yamamoto looking at the two panicked boys.
"We called for an ambulance but…" he trailed off, unable to finish as he felt a rising sensation of nausea strike him once more.
"I already called the Vongola's Medical Team, they'll be here in a few moments." Stated the doctor assuming a grave look upon his features. If the doctor answered the phone drunk then Gokudera was sure any trace of intoxication is gone now.
He just stood there. He just stood there as he watched the team carry his fellow guardian unto a stretcher. He did nothing but join the Sun Guardian in the vehicle that drove them to the hospital. He was unusually calm when he informed Adelheid of what happened, well a very brief summary of what happened.
"Yes." The greeting was crisp and straight to the point.
"The enemy's made their move, they got Yamamoto." He couldn't help sense that something was nagging at him when waited for a reply.
"I see." At the words, the call was disconnected.
He would have been insulted at being hung up on but he didn't have the time to be his usual cursing self.
"Hibari." Gokudera answered the phone not bothering with the usual forms of greeting.
After all, Hibari Kyoya is never one to waste time for such 'trivialities'.
"Explain." Seethed the prefect, he didn't have to be a psychic to know the Cloud Guardian had already found the bloody locker room.
"They got to Yamamoto. Any leads?" Hibari is smart, Gokudera didn't need to elaborate.
"No, none at the moment." Replied the skylark, in a cold tone suggesting that there's going to be hell to pay.
"Call me if you got any leads." He resigned knowing the fruitlessness of the thing.
But he had to give it a try.
"Don't order me around." Growled the dark prefect, the bomber could almost feel the faint essence of killing intent on the other line.
"I wasn't." he stated coolly, disconnecting the call before he could hear the prefect's reply.
He felt cold, the numbness was beginning to settle. If this continues, he'd be able to make it through the day without turning into a panicked mess.
But strange enough, when he heard the Tenth's voice it shattered the false calm that enveloped him immediately allowing the unwanted feelings of panic and fear to settle making him shake as he talked to the young mafia boss.
It's going to be a slow and painful death if I ever get my hands on you. Whoever you are… he concluded darkly, Shimon or not, the bastard's going to pay dearly for messing with his Family.
The sound of a familiar panicked voice snapped him out of his dark musings.
He felt something in him break when he saw the surgeons push the crying boy back outside.
As he saw the boss' eyes darken with pain and stain with tears he knew he won't hold back on anything when find the soon to be dead bastard.
He was no stranger to torture.
He was no stranger to the bloody scenes of anguish that had once dominated his everyday life.
He is after all, a Mafioso.
And he'll always will be.
No amount of compassion, friendship, or trust could ever change that.
He had seen far too much in the Mafia World, and in that world, no one messes with the Vongola and gets away with it.
-END-
A/N: I know I'm not the first one to write about Chapter 294 but I had dislodge the plot bunny since it's been blocking certain ideas from coming through. I don't know if I got Gokudera in character here so forgive the OCness… I'm sorry for any lousiness and mistakes.
P.S. Don't own Reborn. Never had never will. =(