Title: Rough Hands

Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn is Amano Akira's

Credit: many thanks to nightserenade for the express beta reading and xX8059-is-loveXx for the valuable advice

Prompt from khrfest round V: Gokudera/Yamamoto - Rough hands

Timeline: shortly after the Vongola wins against the Shimon Famiglia

Author's Note: This fanfic uses British English (some spelling and punctuation differences, such as single quotations for normal speech)

Irasshai is a welcome greeting spoken by business owners and shop attendants to any prospective customer who enters the shop/restaurant premise. Consider it as the commercial version of 'youkoso' [lit. welcome], if you like.

Renkon is lotus root, usually sliced and simmered, served as a garnish or as an appetizer in most Japanese dishes.

Noren is a rectangular fabric divider with one or more vertical slits, frequently hung on the shop, restaurant and bathhouse entrances.

Chirashizushi [lit. 'scattered sushi'] is traditionally eaten on Hinamatsuri [lit. 'Doll Festival'], which is the Girls' Day on 3 March. It consists of a bowl of sushi rice topped with a variety of meat/fish slices, shredded sweet omelette, vegetables, sakura denbu (sweetened pink powder) and other garnishes. If the ingredients are cooked, it is called 'Gomokuzushi' (Kansai-style sushi); if uncooked, it is known as 'Edomae chirashizushi' (Edo-style scattered sushi).

Amazake [lit. 'sweet rice wine'] is the traditional drink for Hinamatsuri. It is a pseudo-alcoholic drink made of simmered sugar and

In Japan, tap water is drinkable.

'Irasshai!' greeted Yamamoto Takeshi, who had just placed a slice of renkon in a disposable plastic bowl and looked at the doorway. The sky had bidden farewell to its last shred of golden afternoon and welcomed the scarlet evening, where the birds escorted the sun disc towards the western horizon in a subdued procession.

The recently opened door slid closed again, followed by the parting of the noren.

'Oh, it's Gokudera!' remarked Yamamoto, his face beaming with a blindingly bright smile.

On the contrary to the host's eagerness, the visitor did not attempt to return the cordiality with even the tiniest of nods. He simply approached the sushi worktop in a manner that could only be perceived as reluctant.

'Tenth asked me to return this book.' The silver-haired teenager laid a thin blue notebook on the nearest table to the sushi maker.

'Hmm, that's unusual. Tsuna doesn't normally ask anyone's favour for an errand.'

Gokudera gave Yamamoto a scathing look. 'He was going to return your damn book in person. He and I were on our way here when Sasagawa Kyouko passed by with heavy grocery bags, and Tenth, being the gentleman that he is, offered to carry those shopping bags home for her.'

'Anyway,' said the irritated boy, turning on his heel, 'I've done what Tenth requested. I'm heading home.'

'Wait!' The raven-haired teenager grabbed the other boy's forearm at once.

'Don't touch me with your food-stained hand, you baseball idiot!' growled the silver head.

'Ahaha, sorry.' Yamamoto let go of his reflexive grip without further delay. 'But why doesn't Gokudera stay and help me? It's Hinamatsuri tomorrow and our restaurant offers Chirashizushi in the menu for one day as well as takeaway pre-order to be collected tonight and tomorrow morning.'

'Idiot! Why the bloody hell should I help you?'

'Er, because that would make me happy and because we're friends … and … and Tsuna would have been glad to help his friends.'

'Don't use Tenth's name as you please!' Gokudera barked so fiercely that for a second Yamamoto thought he had gone too far in mentioning the name that the Storm Guardian held most sacred. Yet, the next thing the baffled boy knew, the self-proclaimed Vongola Decimo's right hand man had begun to stride towards the sink behind the sushi counter. 'Tch! Fine, but you'll be the one to blame if it tastes awful.'

The moment Gokudera finished washing his hands, he called out, 'Do you want me to cut the fish or what?'

'No. Slicing sashimi properly requires advanced skills that a chef needs to learn for years. I've lined the bowls with sushi rice. What Gokudera needs to do is to garnish them with vegetables into Edomae Chirashizushi dishes. Leave some space for the sashimi slices. Pop will handle them later, a few minutes before the customers collect their orders, because sashimi is best eaten as fresh as possible.'

Without taking off his gaze from the three chopping boards on the worktop before him, each containing a different vegetable, Gokudera asked, 'Where's your old man?'

'He's out, buying some sugar. We'll need a lot for the Amazake, which will be on the menu tomorrow, along with the Chirashizushi.' Yamamoto's eyes, too, did not leave the chopping board before him, for he was cutting a simmered white radish to resemble the shape of a five-petal sakura.

Minutes later, upon finishing his work, Gokudera, who had nothing left to do, watched closely at how Yamamoto carved food into beauty. Although the Storm Guardian was probably admiring his work without any ulterior motive, the Rain Guardian couldn't help getting nervous about it. Much against the taller boy's will, tints of crimson started to creep on his cheeks when the boy next to him continued staring with such intensity. His heartbeat even quickened and thrummed as though he had just run ten laps around the baseball field. The more he tried to ignore this self-consciousness of his, the more it provoked him like a splinter burrowing underneath his skin.

A few more seconds was all Yamamoto needed to get himself cut from being so distracted. He removed his bleeding finger from the food and hurried to turn on the tap to place it under the running water.

'Geez, you clumsy dope! Where's your first aid box?'

'I don't need it. The cut isn't deep. The bleeding has even stopped,' the injured one told his classmate, turning off the tap and letting the boy inspect his finger. 'Look.'

'Your first-aid box,' demanded the silver head again despite the absence of the trickling blood.

'Really, Gokudera, I—'

'I'm not letting you touch that knife again until you bring me that blasted first-aid box!' The Storm Guardian's bark was on par with that of a Doberman guarding his master's house from intruders.

'Okay, okay, I'll fetch it.' With that, Yamamoto rushed into the back of the house.

When he returned less than two minutes later with a small white box in his hand, Gokudera had been waiting with arms folded across his chest.

'Give me that!' The quick-tempered boy snatched the first aid kit.

Trying to retrieve the medical box, the raven-haired boy said, 'Um, I can take care of such a small wound myself.'

'Shut up! I have nothing else to do.'

Yamamoto grinned sheepishly as the other boy sprayed disinfectant onto his wound. In a way, Gokudera himself was like a disinfectant―someone who caused stings with his sharp-tongue at first, but resulted in something good in the end. Although harsh with words, Gokudera was undoubtedly a kindly boy. The other day, he had given up his seat for an elderly woman on the bullet train. However, instead of telling her to take the seat, he simply walked to another car, leaving his seat empty with the woman being the nearest standing passenger to the vacated seat.

The Gokudera in front of him now muttered, 'I knew it! It'd be too good to be true if such rough hands could handle delicacy smoothly.'

Yamamoto stared at his own hands. Their skin was dry due to extensive exposure to the sun. They were also blistered from both the baseball batting practise and wielding the Shigure Kintoki. With these hands, he would kill some and save the others. With these hands, he would serve the Vongola and create a better future.

Compared to his own hands, Gokudera's were far smoother. Sure, one or two minor burn marks, which were highly likely to have been the result of his gunpowder experiments for creating better dynamite, graced his skin. Yet, overall, those hands were free from blisters, calluses, corns and other tough skin problems.

Those smooth hands of Gokudera's were now attaching a plaster onto Yamamoto's wound, encircling the finger like a ring. It made the raven wonder: would the future silver head put a real ring―a wedding ring―on his finger?

Yamamoto's train of thought, however, was interrupted by the sound of the legs of the chair scraping over the floor; Gokudera was back on his feet.

'I'll return this box.' Yamamoto closed the first-aid box and tucked it under his arm. 'Feel free to grab a drink, Gokudera.'

The nearest drink available was a teapot of steaming hot agari, since it was customary for a sushi restaurant to serve refillable green tea to every diner. However, the silver head felt like drinking something chilled at the moment and opened the nearby fridge instead. He spent more than one full minute investigating every nook and cranny, only to find milk cartons and sake bottles. He rolled his eyes and grumbled, 'Why am I not surprised?'

'Ahaha, yeah, I'm not too keen on fizzy drinks and my pop only drinks sake.' Yamamoto, who had just reappeared at the doorway, smiled apologetically. 'But there should be a little orange juice left on the lower shelf.'

Ignoring the spiky-haired boy's blabber, the shorter boy opened the freezer door and reached for an ice tray. The next minute, he had fixed himself a glass of iced green tea.

When he refilled the ice tray with fresh water, Yamamoto spoke, 'Hey, Gokudera…'

The other boy waited, but even after he had turned off the tap water, the Rain Guardian still did not continue finish the sentence he had started. Waiting a little longer, Gokudera returned the ice tray in the freezer. Words still got caught in Yamamoto's throat until finally, running out of patience, the hot-tempered boy slammed the freezer door and spat, 'What?!'

He noticed that Yamamoto took a deep breath before asking, 'Has Gokudera been avoiding me lately?'

If there was ever one mere stare that could melt iron or inject poison, the look that Gokudera presently gave Yamamoto must be the one.

The taller boy swallowed thickly. 'Well, Gokudera does reply when I talk, but never starts a conversation with me. Gokudera is also eager to get away whenever Gokudera sees me, especially if no one else is there. Why?'

'No, I don't. You're thinking too much, idiot.' But the Storm Guardian went quiet afterwards.

'Did I do something wrong?' Yamamoto spoke again, tearing the silence of the rigid dining tables and the stagnant wooden floor. 'Was it during the battle against Daemon Spade? Gokudera has seemed to be uneasy near me since the battle ended.'

The other boy's reply was as snappish as before, but Yamamoto did not fail to notice how the silver-haired boy refused to meet his eye this time. 'I told you it was nothing. Don't try to think too much with your idiotic brain!'

'Was it because I was hospitalised after Kaoru's ambush, creating the impression that the Vongola guardians were weak, which is bad for Tsuna's reputation?'

'How many times do I have to repeat that it was nothing; JUST YOU AND YOUR BASELESS STUPID PRESUMPTIONS!'

'Was it because Gokudera was angry with me because I made Gokudera ―' Yamamoto quickly added 'and Tsuna and all the others' with emphasis before continuing, '―worried while I was in the hospital?'

'Shut up! Shut the fuck up! You were lying unconscious. What do you know about how Tenth felt seeing your body pale as death, attached with a respirator, with stitches here and there, and the doctor's veto that you might be crippled for the rest of your life, eh?! What do you know about how Tenth refused to believe that those Simon gits were responsible for your injuries until they confirmed it themselves in the inheritance ceremony at the Vongola's castle?'

Gokudera was shaking, and for a brief period, Yamamoto thought that those beautiful green eyes before him might spill angry tears suddenly at any second. He attempted to reach out for the other boy and pat him on the shoulder. Even though his intentions were good, the green-eyed teenager flinched.

Eyeing the taller boy with flames of savagery, he burst out, 'What do you know about how our side was ready to fight them for your sake when you just waved it all off with a smile, like none of our worries mattered anymore? You appeared on the battlefield, already forgiving the one who harmed you, just because it turned out that Daemon Spade had been scheming for the Simons' old grudge against us. What do you fucking know about how I felt?'

Yamamoto opened his mouth to reply, but Gokudera beat him into it, 'And that bastard Byakuran!'

'Er, didn't he heal me?' asked Yamamoto uncomprehendingly, taking the advantage of the brief gap in which Gokudera had paused to draw breath.

'Exactly! He fucking healed you. He must have taken interest in you. Perhaps he intended to regroup his army and recruit you. Perhaps he is interested in you in more ways than one. Perhaps he will even take you to bed in the futu—'

'Gokudera.'

The single word was not pronounced in a loud yell or in an offensive tone of any sort. It was simply what it was. Flat. Hollow. Cold.

For one moment, Gokudera felt as though he had been standing on a snowy field where glacial winds were raging, but in the next moment he realised that he was staring right into the Arctic blizzard that was Yamamoto's eyes. Forgetting to breathe, the shorter boy froze. He had never seen Yamamoto―the perennially cheerful Yamamoto―this furious before, not even when an opposing baseball team cheated during a game and stole a score from Namimori Middle.

Yamamoto sighed. When he spoke next, his volume was too low for his usual standard. It was whispery, as though he feared that the walls around them might hear his words. 'I'd rather not live on than stay alive in a life without Gokudera in it.'

Unable to believe his ears, Gokudera stared unblinkingly at his adversary, who now picked his knife and continued chopping the vegetables. For a few seconds, his gawking mouth started to form the word 'what', but in the end, the petulant Storm Guardian could not force any voice out of his throat.

It was not until one full minute had passed that Yamamoto broke the awkward silence between them. 'I couldn't hear what Byakuran said because of the glass barrier, but I did read his lips' movements. "Save him." That's what he said.'

'That son of a bitch!' swore Gokudera with clenched fists, but the looks of his face indicated how he was secretly relieved in the change of subject, 'I bet he didn't want himself to look weak, suffering a defeat from a bunch of kids who were imprisoned in the Vindice because they lost against some no-name small famiglia like the Simons. Yeah, that must be it; otherwise, why else would he bother to tell you to save Tenth?'

'That possibility is there…' surmised the dark-eyed boy with a hanging end to his sentence.

Gokudera's eyebrows arched. 'But you doubt that's the case?'

Yamamoto nodded.

'So what do you think it is?' urged the temperamental boy.

'I can't say for sure, but the look―the refreshed look on his face at that time―seemed like that of a man who had left his burdens behind and to achieve a new aspiration.'

'What the heck are you talking about?'

'It's like he has no further interest in world domination, but rather, he wants to protect what's important to him … and … well, it appears that saving the Vongola is the way to accomplish that.'

'So much for you and your screwed-up logic!' muttered Gokudera, both hands in the air.

Yet, Yamamoto looked unabashed despite Gokudera's insinuation.

With a sceptical tone, the silver head remarked, 'What now? Are you going to say that he considers Tenth as his most important person next? How preposterous!'

The Rain Guardian shook his head. 'There was no indication that the one Byakuran had meant by "him" was Tsuna. If he really cared that much about someone's well-being, I'd say it would be Mukuro's.'

'Huh?' Gokudera's face was positively nonplussed. 'Where did that come from?'

The sushi maker's eyes refused to leave the cucumber he was now working on. 'Remember the day when Byakuran turned into ashes from Tsuna's X-burner?'

'Yeah, what of it?'

'He did glare at Tsuna, who defeated him, first, but at the very last moment, he stared non-stop at Mukuro, and his gaze was full of … well, yearning―longing of some sort―rather than anger. Besides … there might have been something going on between them when Mukuro snuck into the Millefiore base, disguised as Leonardo Lippi.'

Gokudera gave him a reproachful look. 'Are you sure no ball hit you hard on the head in your last baseball practice?'

Yamamoto's lips curved into a smile. Nevertheless, on the inside, he vowed to himself not to waste the health that Byakuran had restored to him. Just as the Millefiore leader had been striving to save the one whom he treasured, he, too, would work harder to win Gokudera Hayato's heart. This he swore on his two rough hands.

OWARI