When Yamamoto learned that the Milliefiore had murdered his father, he hadn't cried. When he had read the report, found out that the Sushi shop he had been raised in had been burned down during the fight to kill his father, he had felt sad and yet proud knowing that his pops hadn't gone down easy. But he still hadn't cried. He had felt the weight of his father's death heavy on his heart, a cold, sticky weight in the pit of his stomach; he had still had the strength to bite back his tears, though. He had been strong enough to smile another day.
After all, he had Gokudera there to tell him to man up, to growl in his ears that there were more things to be concerned about even as he hugged him. He had whispered into Yamamoto's hair, the taller man pressed against his firm chest, that mourning would have to wait.
When Tsuna died at the hands of the Milliefiore, he hadn't cried. When he had seen the bloody and unresponsive body lying in the middle of the conference room, caramel eyes never again to open, he had felt destroyed and enraged that someone would harm such a good person for their own gain. But he still hadn't cried. He had felt the pressure against his shoulders, a migraine storming in the back of his head, that reminded him that Tsuna's death could have been avoided had he tagged along instead of letting the Don go alone; but he had still been strong enough to lightly remind everyone at the funeral that Tsuna would have wanted them to keep moving forward instead of lying around his coffin like guardian statues.
Be that as it may, Gokudera was there to mourn for him as well as himself. He made a hypocrite of himself, though Yamamoto could tell he tried his hardest to swallow his cries. He grabbed onto Yamamoto and held on as if the world was ending, which, at the time, it might as well have been, and let him scream until his voice ran hoarse. When Gokudera finally quieted, Yamamoto murmured into his hair that the time to mourn would be after they defeated the Milliefiore. But, he had added softly, it was okay to cry, nonetheless.
When, one by one, the Vongola guardians began to fall – first with Chrome, then Mukuro (such an easy target for the Milliefiore to poison his oxygen while he floated listlessly in a tank), Hibari next (a task that had taken years in itself, at the loss of many lives including Byakuran's true cloud and rain funeral wreaths), Ryohei (after the murder of his sister), and then Gokudera… He still didn't cry.
He picked up his sword, calmly grabbed his box weapons, and then sauntered out of the base for the last time. He walked right up to the Milliefiore hideout and waited outside of its entrance, a cheerful smile on his face and his sword tapping impatiently against his shoulder. He had looked more as if he was waiting for the bus instead of a mafia power.
The enemy hadn't taken too long to pour from the entrance, attacking him in endless waves of black and white uniforms.
He killed hundreds. If that was an exaggeration, he wouldn't know it. He lost count somewhere around 90 when his vision became fully scarlet; thereafter, the fight was a blur of laughter, screams, curses, and wounds.
When he came to, there was weeping. Endless, endless crying that begged for him not to leave the weeper alone… Lambo, he realized. Ah, so Lambo would be the last to survive; how sad.
He was a mess, he noticed as he tried to open his eyes and came to understand that they were never close to begin with. Blood had soaked his pupils, making it impossible for him to see. He felt like one long scar that wouldn't stop bleeding and he was fairly certain he might have been missing a few limbs.
Lambo begged him to live, but his voice was getting further and further away… Goodbye, Lambo.
When the Milliefiore killed him, he didn't cry.
Gokudera hadn't cried when he had died.
Author's Note: Inspired by the 8059 doujinshi, 'Butterfly', where Reborn basically tells Gokudera that he is the one that controls Yamamoto. This story is set in a somewhat alternate universe where Tsuna and the gang was never sent forward in time to save their future.