If you're new, please make sure you read A Different Choice before you read these stories as there is an extreme amount of spoilers in this oneshot. Check out our profile for more information on this series!

If you're one of our followers, welcome back! Yamamoto will be the first in this series of oneshots. Next week, we'll be checking up on Tsuna and Gokudera. We hope you enjoy! :D

Come Rain or Shine

Yamamoto sighed. He felt tired and sluggish. The past two days had been dragging along, especially considering he couldn't sleep. He hadn't checked yet but he was sure he had bags under his eyes. His dad was making sure he had meals in front of him so eating wasn't an issue, but Yamamoto just couldn't help but feel weak. It took effort to lift up his hand and draw circles with his fingers on his futon. The young swordsman tilted his head, resting it on his pillow as he watched his finger make trails on the fabric. He sighed again.

"That's not usually what my opponents are saying by this point. Well, the ones that can speak that is. But I have to admit, you've been a pretty fun opponent too. You wanted to know my name, right? It's Ono!"

Yamamoto reached back and grabbed the edges of his sheets behind his shoulders. He could feel the scar on his back stretching as he pulled the blanket over his head. It was hard to sleep on his back. The scar was always making itself known. Whether it was the way it pulled against his skin or the times that it itched. Sometimes, when it was late at night and there weren't any noises besides the cicadas crying outside his window, he could feel the phantom pain of a burning sword splitting his flesh. Because of this it was always difficult to put a shirt on when he was alone in his room. He hated the feel of the fabric when it brushed against the scarred skin. Even now with the blanket over his body, his back was itching uncomfortably.

"Gahh…" Yamamoto let out a rough and frustrated sound, rubbing his fingers into his scalp and messing up his hair. He couldn't go on like this. He knew this. However, thinking such a thing and actually getting up to face the day were two very different things. Yamamoto lifted his head, the blanket falling to the back of his neck, and he stared out at the rising sun just outside his window.

"Sorry," Yamamoto said with a wry and tired smile, "but I think I need a bit more rest. You should go check on Tsuna though. I think he's worse off than I am." Yamamoto let his chin fall back onto the pillow. "Then again, he's got Gokudera." He began tracing circles on his futon once more. His mind began to wander along the lines of what his other friends were doing. Chrome had seemed okay and she had Chikusa and Ken. Lambo didn't see. Yamamoto hoped he was okay regardless. Even the sounds had been memorable.

"Ah!" Yamamoto grinned and looked up at the sun again. "Go check on senpai. His little sister doesn't know what happened and I'm sure he's troubled." He sighed slightly but did his best to smile at the sun. "Thank you. I'll be fine." It was as if the sun listened and a cloud gently rolled across it. Yamamoto let his head fall back onto the pillow once more and he started thinking about the final member of their group. Hibari. Yamamoto hoped that he was doing okay.

But Yamamoto's ruminations were abruptly interrupted when the door to his room was kicked open.

"VOOOIII!" Squalo's loud voice barked out as he stomped into room with an intent expression on his face. The silver-haired swordsman's eyes zeroed in on Yamamoto the moment he stepped in, and a scowl immediately appeared on his face at the sight before him. "What the hell are you still doing in bed, you damn brat? Tch, you look pathetic!" Squalo was referring to the troubled expression he'd caught on the other's face, though now that he observed the other more closely, his attention was diverted by the striking scar on Yamamoto's chin. It wasn't a surprise to see it, of course. Though Squalo hadn't able to personally see any of the brats after they had infiltrated the Vendetta base, having been called back to the hotel early in order to deal with his damn boss' temper, he'd heard about it from Lussuria after the Sun user had gotten back. As he looked at the scar now for the first time, however, Squalo found himself irritated by it. He wished he'd been there to see the brat fight. He wanted to know what had happened. He could make a couple of educated guesses, but it was always better to hear it from the horse's mouth.

Curiosity and irritation aside, Squalo's lips eventually stretched into a nasty smirk as he spoke next. "So," he drawled. "I heard you won your battle, but it seems like you got careless, huh?" Squalo crossed the space between them in a couple of long strides. Once he was next to brat's futon, staring down at the other, Squalo nudged the black-haired teen with his foot hard, turning him on his side. Squalo's blade slid out of his sleeve in in an instant, and he pointed it under the other's chin, lifting it so he could get a better view of the scar. "Hmm, could have been worse," Squalo said callously, his smirk ever-present. "Up for another one?" he taunted the other, his voice challenging. Since the Varia wasn't leaving for Italy yet, Squalo wanted to spend as much time as possible sparring with the other as he knew the brat would slack off in his absence.

Yamamoto's quiet morning was suddenly interrupted in a loud fury. "S-Squalo!" He barely had time to shout the name in shock before there was a sword at his throat and a shoe pushing him to his side. Yamamoto lifted his head with the blade, wanting to swallow but already feeling the sharp point at his throat so he didn't dare. Instead, he smiled. Maybe this was the wake-up call he'd been waiting for. Maybe fighting with Squalo would get the last fight out of his head.

"Sure, sounds fun." Yamamoto smiled brightly as he rolled back, away from the sword. He untangled himself from his blanket and finally got out of bed. He was in nothing but sweatpants and, as he stood up, the scar on his back was on full display. The scarred flesh was ugly and it marred the pale skin on Yamamoto's back with dark, tight flesh that seemed to have no rhyme or reason as it followed the diagonal slash downward.

Squalo stiffened at the sight before him. "O-oi!" Squalo's sword quickly retreated and he reached out and grabbed the other's shoulders with both hands, keeping him still as he stared incredulously at the other's injury. "What the hell is this!?" The words tore out of his throat as an overwhelming fury coursed through him. "I didn't hear anything about this! What the fuck?"

Yamamoto gasped and craned his head back to look at Squalo, shocked at his tone and how quickly he'd grabbed him. He tried to turn but he was quickly straightened out again by Squalo's strong grip. He was sure he could twist out of it if he really tried, however, Yamamoto didn't have the heart to do it. "I… Well, it happened during the fight," he said as he looked over his shoulder at the man.

Squalo's hands tightened their grip on the other's shoulder, his gloved fingers digging into Yamamoto's skin. "What the fuck happened to cause this, huh!?" Squalo snarled, and in his anger he twisted the other around to face him and slammed him against the wall. Squalo's hand pinned the other there by his neck as he looked down on him, his eyes narrowed in anger. "No proper swordfight leaves scars on this part of one's body, so how the fuck did this happen? You try to run away?! Explain it to me!" he demanded.

"No!" Yamamoto gasped, holding onto Squalo's wrist, wincing when he was shoved up against the wall so forcefully. He stared at him with wide eyes and wondered for a single moment if Squalo would kill him. However, the thought was immediately banished from his mind. He trusted Squalo. So Yamamoto just swallowed and pulled himself together. "I incapacitated him. He… He was on the floor and I won, but when I went back to go help senpai, he ran up behind me and did this. He had Storm Flames so they said they couldn't really heal it right… But! It's okay! I'm fine! So please, calm down. Besides, that guy is…" Yamamoto's words hitched in his throat for a moment. "Well, Hibari killed him so… It's okay!" The words sounded wrong in his voice and made his throat clench. It wasn't okay. It wasn't okay at all. But if it would calm Squalo down, give him a bit of equanimity, then Yamamoto would lie.

Squalo had to control himself in order to refrain from tightening his grip on the other's throat. His teeth clenched. Those words had done nothing to appease him, and the waver he caught on the other's voice made him even angrier. "What part of this is okay, you stupid kid?" Squalo growled. "How many fucking times have I told you not to show mercy to your opponents, huh?! You're lucky to be alive right now!"

Yamamoto flinched at Squalo's anger. He had thought perhaps his explanation would calm him but it only seemed to make it worse. "But he was down!" Yamamoto replied quickly. "It was over! I defeated him! I didn't expect him to-"

Squalo slammed his other hand against the spot next Yamamoto's head. "You didn't expect him to!? Are you fucking kidding me!?" Squalo glared down at the other. He felt his body tremble in anger. This kid… This fucking kid infuriated him! "How many times do I have to say it before it gets through to your head!?" Squalo hissed through gritted teeth. "The battle's not over unless your opponent is dead!" he exclaimed, and then continued in that same angry tone, "this isn't a fucking game, you stupid brat! You can't let your guard down around these types of people! They kidnapped one of your own, didn't they!? They threatened to kill you, didn't they!? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?" Squalo yelled, exploding.

Yamamoto's body began to tremble. His mind began to race because he had heard all of this before.

"A battle of swords will only end when one of us has been cut down!"

"At times, death can be the most merciful thing you can offer your opponent."

"We are Mafia."

His grip on Squalo's wrist began to loosen and he couldn't bear to look at his face anymore. He looked down at Squalo's chest. "I…" Yamamoto bit his lip and closed his eyes, but as soon as he did, memories flashed in front of his eyes: Ono smirking, Ono injured and on the floor, Ono defenseless as he was beaten to death before his eyes. Yamamoto let his hands fall to his sides. "Sorry…" he murmured with a defeated tone.

Squalo stared at the other's pathetic expression and felt his frustration boil to a new level. Not knowing what to do with himself anymore, he let go of the other and turned around. He couldn't bear to stare at the kid right now. "Tch, saying sorry isn't going to do a damn thing," he muttered gruffly, scowling as he stared daggers into the floor.

There was a short bout of silence. Then, Squalo ran an irritated hand over his hair. "Come on, get your shit," he said, waving a hand around the room blindly. "I'm seriously pissed off right now, so hurry up and get ready so I can kick your ass."

Yamamoto looked at Squalo as he turned around and the man's quieter tone struck something in him. Was Squalo trying to comfort him? Yamamoto's eyes widened a bit before he looked down again, confirming with a grunt before he quickly moved to get ready. "Just, um… Just hold on a second. You can wait there." Yamamoto moved to his closet and grabbed a shirt off the hanger, quickly pulling it on, feeling more confident now that the scar was hidden. He then moved and grabbed the bamboo sword leaning up against the wall and quickly put it in his bag which he pulled over his head. He paused right then, looking at Squalo's back for a moment, and wondered what he was thinking. Yamamoto wondered if he could ever find out.

"I'm ready," he said, walking over to him. "My shoes are downstairs at the back door."

"Tch. Let's go."

The two headed down stairs silently. Squalo watched Yamamoto as he bent down to put on his shoes, feeling troubled by their entire encounter. This hadn't been at all what he had come here for. He had not expected any of this. But now that this had happened, Squalo couldn't help but to feel annoyed at the other; disappointed too. The little brat pissed him off to no extent—and it was weird. Squalo didn't know why he felt like this. Why did he care so much if the other lived or died? Why did he keep nurturing that talent of his, if all the kid wanted to do was waste it?

Thinking about it made his head hurt.

Once Yamamoto was done slipping on his shoes, the kid stepped forward and slid the door open. Much to their surprise, there was something standing on the other side of the door.

"Takeshi!" Tsuyoshi let his hand drop at his side as he stared at his son in surprise. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asked, looking startled. But then Tsuyoshi's eyes noted the sword hanging off his son's shoulder. And then he noticed the man standing behind his son.

Tsuyoshi's expression instantly became clouded as a frown marred his lips. "Ah," he said. "I see you came back to visit my son, young man. You planning on taking him somewhere?" he asked, and though his voice was calm, his eyes were serious.

Squalo stared at the man before him coolly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What does it look like? I'm taking the kid out to fight," he said.

Tsuyoshi straightened up at the words. It didn't look like he had any plans to stop blocking the entrance. "My son needs his bed rest. I think it would be best for him to stay home for today."

Squalo looked almost amused at the sight. "Hah! As if keeping him cooped up is gonna do him any good." The silver-haired swordsman's lips twisted into a broad smirk then. "But if you have a problem with me, old man, why don't you take the brat's place and fight with me?"

Yamamoto looked between his father and Squalo, feeling a bit like the rope in a game of tug of war. "Now, now…" He looked at Squalo, holding out his arms in his usual way. "Just be patient." He then turned to his father and put on his best smile. "It's fine, Pops. I've been in bed for a while now and I figure it's time to get up again. So I'm going to go with Squalo, okay? We won't be far and I'll be home for lunch." Yamamoto then glanced back to Squalo before turning back to his father again. "Or dinner." He laughed.

Squalo felt his eyebrow twitch irritably at the brat's interruption, though his words did make his smirk widen slightly. "Heh. Well, you heard the kid," he said, a hint of superiority laced in his tone. Squalo stepped forward and slid an arm over the kid's shoulder. "We'll be going then, and don't worry," he added smugly, "I'll make sure to return him safe and sound, old man."

Tsuyoshi looked down for a moment, and his expression was shadowed by his hair. But then, as he looked up, there was a wide smile on his lips. "Is that so?" he asked with a slight laugh. "Well, in that case you two kids have fun! Don't wear yourself out too much, Takeshi," he added as finally stepped inside the entryway and out of their way.

Yamamoto blinked as he felt the arm wrap around his shoulder. He looked at it in slight shock before his gaze turned to Squalo. He had always been used to the man dragging him off, either by his arm or his shirt, or shoving him or even hauling him out the door over his shoulder. And while Yamamoto didn't really mind, he felt a sense of honor to be standing at Squalo's side like this. His heart seemed to speed up.

He smiled though, for his father, and nodded. "Yeah, I won't! Squalo will take care of me," he said as he walked out the now clear doorway with the long-haired swordsman. "See you later!"

"See ya, Takeshi," Tsuyoshi called back as he watched his son exit out the door. The sushi chef stood there for a long while, his eyes never shifting away from the pair. His expression slowly shifted as he saw the two interact. The silver-haired man accompanying his son was currently snapping at Takeshi in an angry voice, and Tsuyoshi couldn't help but to watch entranced as Takeshi laughed in response.

Something in Tsuyoshi's chest loosened at the sound. It was the second time he'd heard it today. He hadn't heard that laugh since his son had come back from his battle… Tsuyoshi's eyes fell shut for a moment, and his shoulders slumped as relief coursed through him. He's smiling again… he thought as his own lips stretched into a soft smile. I'm glad… I'm glad you're better, my son. Hang in there…