Title: Gasoline Rain
Author: OnceABlueMoon
Rating: T
Pairing: Yamamoto/Xanxus
Tags/Warnings: Mentions of suicidal feelings
Summary: Yamamoto Tsuyoshi was a former assassin, and he had a son. Undoubtedly a prime candidate for guardianship. Xanxus checked out the top dog in Namimori before making his move.
Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Written for the khrrarepairweek Day 3 - Sun Day: Enemies to Friends to Lovers | Secret Relationship AU Both prompts were used.
Sometimes, when Yamamoto was blue, he began to melt.
Drip drop drip drop drip.
A boy raining sadness.
Drip drop, drip drop.
Sometimes, Xanxus melted too. But his meltdowns were like gasoline; They set the world on fire. It took only the slightest spark to ignite him.
He discovered he was adopted. It was the lighter to his fuel, and he went to burn the whole place down. His father froze him in his footsteps, stifled his fire under layers of ice, and no matter how hot his anger burned, Xanxus could not break through.
In the end, only one question remained: Did you ever love me?
Yamamoto almost melted off the roof, rained off it, but Sawada Tsunayoshi caught him within his mouth and swallowed him down whole.
Yamamoto became the rain in his sky, and for all it did not mean stability or even complacent, feeling someone engulf his life force at all times helped with the suicidality. Only a little, mind you, but only a little was enough to make him live.
Drip drop, drip drop.
The ice melted off Xanxus' body, water rolling down along the cold like rain as Squalo pierced the icy heart to reach him.
Xanxus remembered Bel- just half his height, standing at his hip. A lost child he had been at eight, yet relishing in blood, comfortable with Xanxus' rule.
But Xanxus stood up from the ice, still sixteen years old, and the brat who was eight just two hours ago, says: ''Shishishi, the prince is now Xanxus' age!''
Xanxus could feel his control slipping through his fingers, his authority sliding through them like water. His eyes glid over his subordinates. It had been eight years. They had grown, but he had not, and they called him by name, not ''Boss''.
Xanxus, sixteen years old and desperate, broke Belphegor's nose for it.
Xanxus was the one in control. He was.
(Gasoline burns and burns and burns- see you stop a downed tank from flowing)
Gasoline. Xanxus was awake and would burn down the world if he had to. He loved his grandmama. But Daniela died while he was in the ice, and Xanxus swore he'd be decimo in her honour. (In his street, he was in charge).
Finding out about his brothers dead in the ditch, well. It didn't make the situation any prettier.
''I'm leaving for Namimori, to slay the one who stands in my way to my rightful property and position.''
Bel, broken nose and all, grinned through the blood running down his face. At least that hadn't changed. The blood thirst was thick in the air- the Varia had a target, and they'd locked on to it. Like a bloodhound, they'd hunt him down, and slaughter him.
His name was Sawada Tsunayoshi, and he would be the first kill in Xanxus' surely long and bloody reign.
Xanxus ain't stupid- you wanted to go into somebody else's street? Find out whose it was before you entered. Namimori was no different. The yakuza would like to claim the top dog spot, but they flinched away from Yamamoto Tsuyoshi like he was the sun and they were the shadows; They scattered in his very presence.
…Yamamoto Tsuyoshi was a former assassin, and he had a son. Undoubtedly a prime candidate for guardianship.
It wasn't that Xanxus' didn't give a shit- it was that he cared too much. Had always cared too much, perhaps about the wrong things. But the Varia were no mistake, and neither was his grandmother. His dream of being Decimo was the right path, and he knew it.
Scouting out the enemy? All part of the plan.
''You're in love with death,'' he said, the first time they met.
Yamamoto Takeshi threw his head back and laughed, raw and honest, seated on the edge of the building, dangling his legs over the edge. That was how the whole encounter felt- over the edge, just that little beyond the boundary, too close for comfort.
Yamamoto Takeshi was flirting with death and he knew it- but flirtin's not the same as fucking, and Xanxus knew it.
(His grandmother taught him that, on a Saturday afternoon. They were seated on the curb, her dress gettin' dirty, but not her feet, because those rested not on the street, but on his brother's back. Massimo groaned, though it was muffled by the asphalt Daniela had smashed his face against, and Xanxus had smirked. It was all he could do- his legs weren't long enough to rest on Massimo's back like hers.
She'd taken his hand, and said: ''Now, boy, listen to me real good. Any man who touches a girl without her permission goes the fuck down. That's the law in my street.''
It was not the law where Xanxus came from. His mother was a whore, he still had nightmares about the screams the girls in the back let out, about the bruises and the men who broke the door down, rantin' and screamin' and so red in the face, spit flying everywhere, hands grabbing what they should not.
But it was the law in Daniela's street, and Xanxus didn't really understand- not yet- but he understood pain and he understood hurt, he understood crime and he understood hate. He did not understand women, but this was a good code to live by. Any one person who touched others in the wrong way, who did not have consent, was going down in his streets too.
You better believe it).
Flirtin' ain't the same as fucking, and though catcalling death is a real fucking dumb thing to do, that was how Yamamoto Takeshi rolled.
''Maybe so,'' Yamamoto smiled like a fool, chest open, hands beside him, but his teeth were visible, and Xanxus knew bared teeth when he saw 'em.
He grinned, baring his teeth right back. ''I'm going to floor you and your buddies, Yamamoto.''
Yamamoto laughed even harder, chortling. His shaking body nearly teetered over the edge. ''You try that, Xanxus. You try that.''
His eyes spoke of things-you-know-not, but Xanxus was pretty sure he was bluffing. Sawada Tsunayoshi was a wimp from what he had seen so far. Sure, Yamamoto might have fire- it was dripping off him like a cry for help- but Sawada? Nah. Xanxus honestly wondered how that guy had the motivation to put on his pants in the morning. Igniting his flames? Dream on, boy.
At least Yamamoto had potential- but that was just it. Cute kid, with his baby teeth, but Yamamoto Takeshi ain't no threat just yet.
(or so Xanxus thought).
There was a rain battle, and Xanxus bit his tongue, and laughed, cackled like a madman at Squalo's loss.
(If he can forsake his oldest friend, he then he'd still be the top dog. Nobody would encroach on the street of a man that heartless. It'd intimidate Sawada, but more importantly, it would intimidate his own men.
…Xanxus had never ruled with something else than terror, but the looks the Varia shared between themselves upon it made him feel sick. The nasty taste in the back of his mouth was not from the shot he'd downed before, and the smell of gasoline lingered.
He would get them to obey, no matter what. With that resolution, he clenched his fists.
He spared no glance for the assassin's son, deliberately. He had no time for distractions like pretty, lethal boys not yet blooded.
Then again, there was no doubt in his mind that Yamamoto would know how blood on your hands felt before the year was out.
They met again, on the rooftop of the building, like a silent vow between them said it must be so.
Xanxus flung his legs over the edge. As always, Yamamoto is perched above the abyss, a gargoyle made of flesh. ''Wanna come with me to Italy?''
Yamamoto cocked his head. ''Why?''
Xanxus grinned and leaned in so close he could feel Yamamoto's breath on his face, and count the lashes that surrounded his eyes. Deep amber bored into warm brown, facing his own reflection in them. ''Because,'' Xanxus spoke, softly, dangerously, against Yamamoto's lips, ''We're both lovers of death. I can use you.''
Yamamoto grinned, a little breathless, ''But do you need me?''
Xanxus laughed, deep and desperate, and really, that was, in a way, answer enough. ''No.'' Yes, in all the ways that mattered, echoed through the air.
Yamamoto closed the space between them, pressing his lips against Xanxus'. Two lovers of death, two adoring of lethality. Two, quite mad.
The kiss was a snap of fire, a spark of a beginning, and it ignited. The flames licked the building around them, swallowing concrete whole. Yamamoto was out of his mind and he knew it. His sanity was dripping from his ears, like his brain turned liquid and just… drained away.
A connection snapped.
The next morning, Sawada Tsunayoshi woke up, and his sky was dry, empty of any rain whatsoever. It had slipped from his fingertips as if vaporized altogether.
Yamamoto Takeshi was nevermore seen in Namimori, but sometimes, when asked after him, his father would mutter something about a fire, about gasoline.
For all intents and purposes, Yamamoto Takeshi was dead.
(Tsuyoshi still received monthly phone calls)