Title: You carry a sword to kill
Summary: "He's heard of stories, though there were very few, about the Rain Guardian who smiled and calmed and fought with the back of his sword with a style meant to kill; who rarely left the Decimo's side, and who was known for defeating Superbi Squalo of the Varia and becoming the Sword Emperor. The Guardian who was said to be a generous soul among the six, a kindred spirit who showed mercy and compassion even to his enemies.
The Guardian rumored to have kept a darker side."
Classic 5+1 fic
Characters: Yamamoto-centric, but the gang is here(some are mentioned only)
Warnings: Dark-ish fic, different OC's point of view, healthy dose of violence and gore, unbeta-ed
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Notes: This is set in the Future, where Byakuran isn't a problem but they still ended up running Vongola anyway. They're not kids anymore, so this is going to be a little serious. Also if you didn't notice yet, I'm a fan of Yamamoto so this fic goes to all his fans who loved seeing a different side of him. Have fun!~
1.
There's something to be said about Vongola and its nature to attract a crowd of weird and dangerous people. The founders of the vigilante group may had been the primary cause of everything, but none except those directly related to the First Generation could say what kind of people they were. Nobody in Mafia business could tell you exactly when it started, but the Tenth generation certainly upheld the tradition. However, it is an unspoken truth that this bunch of weird people with contrasting personas is also the pack of the strongest Alphas in the Mafia.
A pack they may be, the Vongola are rarely seen in one place gathering altogether except in their own territory. And of course, the Vongola Estate's defense was nothing to scoff at, and neither were the smaller bases of operation throughout Italy. Tirone D'Aria knew this very much, and he knew more of the Tenth generation of Vongola more than most people who has a job like him. He literally was a walking information vault, and he was quite proud of getting to a high-ranking position through years of blood and sweat.
He also happened to know closely the security of Vongola's defenses, thanks to his various connections and his admittedly intelligent mind- his greatest asset. His memory was a palace of data sorted in a way that he'd never forget every single detail he saw, and patterns he deduced. His older brother was dead now, but he still could hear his nagging at the back of his mind that he's been wasting away in this job when he could be better- so much better, not to mention also on the good side. But he was always the man who found pleasure walking in between the lines than staying safe in the sidewalk: he enjoyed a life of thrill and adventure.
However, in all his years of working for numerous sides without giving any pretense of loyalty, Tirone never thought he'd be nervous for the Vescovi Famiglia who was planning an assault to the Vongola in order to shake the Decimo which they thought to be tragically young and unworthy of the highest seat.
It's not that, he knew. It's the fact that Vongola crushed their pride when the Decimo refused the proposal of alliance with them.
"I presume everything else is taken care of?" The gruff, greedy voice of the Vescovi boss thundered for the second time. The informant nodded without a word, his tongue long ago forsaken in honor of his job. An hour later the Vescovi, armed enough to topple a city, surrounded the Vongola HQ in Cagliari where most of the overseas operations were transacted.
Not a minute later, Tirone found out the cause of his uneasiness about the whole operation.
"Boss! We have a confirmed visual of one of Vongola's guardians heading for our main troops!" A voice crackled on their intercom.
"Which brat is it?" Arturo, the head of the Vescovi, barked over.
"It's their Rain Guardian, boss! It seems he has no other Guardian in company."
Tirone practically heard his employer sigh audibly, ugly beard stretched in a manic grin. The words that left old man's mouth made his blood run cold. "There is no need to worry about a sword-brandishing youngling. I want the head of that brat brought to me."
He wanted to object, perhaps crack a sick joke about it, not because of the rather terrifying order coming from a stereotypical psychopathic boss-villain, but because he wanted to warn them.
There's something to be said about Vongola and its nature to attract a crowd of weird and dangerous people. The Tenth generation is evidence to that. The young Decimo, along with his high school associates, may be a bunch of people too young to run an entire organization that ruled over Mafia, but each one of their members was anything but ordinary. The Rain Guardian was not infamous like the strongest Guardian Kyoya Hibari who was said to be a spawn of- if not a demon himself, nor the once notorious criminal Mukuro Rokudo who kept his loyalty to the current Vongola boss. But Tirone's heard rumors, hearsays, stories which more often were exaggerated to deliberately instil fear amongst enemies and he believed in them because after all, there's no smoke without fire, right?
He's heard stories about Vongola's Rain Guardian, and they're the least reassuring that this night will end in their victory.
"We've surrounded the area complet—" An explosion sent a shrill of static over the intercom, hitting a nerve in their boss. "Second squad, report!" The reply took seconds to be heard, and even then it's barely understandable. "Ther—explos-on! Ack-" the line went dead.
The waves roared towards the moonlit shore, not quite drowning the sounds of gunfire and explosions hidden by the night forest. There was no way the sea breeze could enter the room, but Tirone could see the head of the Vescovi break into cold sweat.
"We have the upper hand. The brat's the only real threat here, get him out of the way and the rest will be easier. Leave no survivors!"
2.
The explosion caught them off guard, but he supposed it wasn't enough to deter the four squads who raided one of Vongola's bases. Caio La Duca was confident that even though they'd face the Rain Guardian (who wasn't even supposed to be here, their informant was sure hours ago) there would still be a healthy chance for them to win and finally get the satisfaction in burning the whole place down in exchange for their bruised pride.
Sometimes he really hated being indebted to this Famiglia. If he had it his way, he wouldn't associate himself with the petty squabbles between Famiglias. They're all the same, more or less. They exist for power, for control, and all the rotten atrocities that humans naturally possess. The Vongola may have introduced itself as the beacon of order among the unruly creatures belonging to the darkness that is the Mafia, but the long history of blood and conflict is enough to drown their successors in crimson.
Most times, he'd rather not think about these things. After all, he wasn't really high up in the chain to be concerned. He was a pawn. A high-ranking fighter who lead the assault team, sure, but a pawn nonetheless. Pawns don't have time to think: it's the job for the king if they even do the job properly. In this battlefield, the only position acknowledged is the king for he is who they protect. The rest are foot soldiers and it only happened that they're the one attacking while the other side is defending the ironically non-existent throne where Decimo sat. This wasn't even their main base anyway, but the boss seemed to think this would teach the young Vongola Don a lesson.
However, as they advanced deeper into the estate, he slowly got the feeling of damnation that his insides responded by flipflopping to places.
"Ah." He lamely spoke, "Even some of the battlefields are unfair." His hands shook, the gun in his hands trembling uncontrollably that if he had time, he'd be embarrassed. His mouth was dry, but his thoughts were plagued in litanies of curses and pathetic prayers to the gods in the heavens.
His grandmother used to be a Christian, and she had taught him well about religion. Caio remembered she used to say prayers were most effective against all evil.
Forget evil. The man in front of them, standing with his presence alone blocked the path like a sentient being, might as well be a demon. The sword in his hand was dyed in red, sickeningly beautiful as the flowing liquid reflected the crescent moon's striking light, as if they held the memories of the lives it took. His eyes burned like the color of the earth engulfed in scorching flames, and the blood that's not his decorated his navy blue undershirt like cherry blossoms in spring. His mask was a blank face: unreadable, disconcerting- a petrifying disparity against brown orbs glinting sharply by the light. If one was to ponder what lies behind it, he would find pitch darkness staring back at him.
The man facing the first and second squad with only more or less twenty subordinates with him, Yamamoto Takeshi, stood harshly against the sound of bullets ripping holes and cracking bones and against the landscape of raw violence. He danced a lethal dance of precision and almost inhumane agility downing two, three, four men with the back of his sword like the blood-stained room was the stage and he was the reaper on spotlight. He was nothing but a blur of raven hair and silver sparks, a hurricane of movement, prowess and silent execution. The fact that he only wielded a sword and a gun in either side seemed to be far more lethal than the amount of weapons they had in possession.
Not a god of war, nor deity. Just a warrior. A warrior awakening his suppressed demon. Why so? Well, what would you call of people with the ability to split bullets or catch them in a devil's grin? What were weapons for when you stand against such monstrosity?
He's always heard rumors… About the Decimo's Guardians. How dangerous and lethal each of them were on their own, and even more when together. He's heard of stories, though there were very few, about the Rain Guardian who smiled and calmed and fought with the back of his sword with a style meant to kill; who rarely left the Decimo's side, and who was known for defeating Superbi Squalo of the Varia and becoming the Sword Emperor. The Guardian who was said to be a generous soul among the six, a kindred spirit who showed mercy and compassion even to his enemies.
The Guardian rumored to have kept a darker side.
On the brighter side, Caio could at least affirm how horrifyingly true those rumors despite how extravagant they sounded.
On the less brighter side, he and the rest of the crew might be on a one-way trip to hell this time.
3.
Irma Oddi would be lying if she said she was surprised of the Vescovi's attack on the Cagliari base. Strategist and Advisor Haru Miura predicted it so. Behind the sweet look on her face, she was considered one of the most powerful women in Vongola. She lost count of how many times Lady Haru's words had saved Vongola, so there was no reason to doubt. To think they planned well enough to make sure the rest of the Guardians were scattered around the globe and Decimo on a meeting overseas, was more surprising. In fact it was only a lucky coincidence that her superior along with some members of their Division returned from a mission and decided to touch base in Cagliari instead of the Main Headquarters. It was meant for them to be able to rest as soon as possible but as soon as they arrived the base, the Defense Unit immediately informed them of the all-out attack. There was no one else on board except their Rain Guardian, and it immediately fell into his hands the responsibility to defend the post until backup arrives.
Irma obediently stood beside her boss, awaiting orders. There were days when her presence meant a necessary evil for the free-spirited and laidback Rain Guardian of theirs, but there were also times when it meant a silent reassurance they have each other's back especially when no one else was around to do so. It seemed mandatory, or so Decimo said in one of his speeches, to protect each other no matter what squad or ranking one is in. That's what a family does, he would say.
Takeshi Yamamoto leaned on the desk, waiting for the mini-earthquake to pass as he seemed to be deep in thought. When he opened his eyes again, Irma felt a shift in the air. "I need a team of specialists who can communicate to the main base without using the existing ones. If they've gone this deep in a matter of minutes without breaking a sweat, then I'll assume our communications system is a lost cause already."
"Sir, they've already infiltrated the third wall of security." She stated, looking over the report from the Operations Room sent over to her Vongola-issued tablet. She bit the inside of her lip, the implication of having half of their defense systems destroyed already making her head spin.
"What are the odds right now?"
"We're severely outnumbered, and half our defense systems are either disabled or destroyed." It's actually an impending omen, since most of the personnel in the estate were civilians and their fighters were outnumbered as it is- not to mention the still unknown guy behind the infiltration might still have connections inside. To put it straight, there's a huge chance the Cagliari base would be wiped out by the end of the night. The thought only made Irma want to crawl out of her skin.
Another explosion rumbled through their walls. Irma wasn't sure if she saw her boss looking murderous for a second. She couldn't blame him, the last mission was more psychologically draining than their previous ones.
"They will not get through the third wall." The Rain spoke in a rarity of a low, commanding tone. "Get the civilians to safety, anyone who could fight will defend the third level." He directed then to the Control Room, "This is a code Alpha emergency. I'm relying on you guys as our eyes in the battle."
With a sound of affirmation, the video cut off and once more, Irma found herself striding the corridors beside the Rain Guardian.
"Irma, if this is to go south and it can't be helped, you're to abandon everything else and make sure the others can make it to the escape route." The swordsman said easily in a tone so annoyingly light.
Said woman wanted to retaliate. What was he saying? The Vongola would fight till the bitter end even if the odds were poor on their side. That was their pride. Irma wondered if his boss knew this, or was blatantly ignoring it in favor whatever was on his mind.
"But sir-"
"I mean it. The moment this goes south, you're to retreat. Rather than we all become casualties here, it's better if one of us lives and plan a counterattack, right?"
The red-haired woman clenched her fists and nodded sharply. Though she would only consider this whole thing going south if their Rain falls to the ground, and as his Second-in-Command, she will give the enemies hell before they can do that.
"Good! How's your aim, Irma?" The easy-going tone was back again when Yamamoto asked her loyal second-in-command. The readhead snorted, "Good enough to give them their deserved beating sir."
Yamamoto grinned, "That's the spirit! Come on now, we gotta make sure the cleanup won't be that bad like last time."
"Right behind you, sir."
It turned out she was in for another surprise, and this time she didn't think she'd be able to see her boss in the same light again. Irma did her best to protect the back of their easygoing Rain Guardian, but she was soon hit with a painstaking horror and awe as she watched the resident cheerful swordsman of Vongola morphed into an entirely different person… being. A being who looked devastating and overwhelmingly powerful as he left a crimson carnage in his wake using the sword that's made to kill... A hungry beast lusting for one, and only one goal.
There's a blatant chill on her fingers that held the trigger which took a lot of effort to ignore, but Irma supposed she had it easier than the unfortunate ones on the ground- and even more than the Vescovi men who crossed paths with them. For all the good-naturedness and carefree attitude Vongola's Rain Guardian has, she shouldn't have forgotten that it's the same man who sparred with Hibari and Mukuro on lazy days, and one who the great hitman Reborn and Squalo took an interest in.
Vongola is full of powerful beasts and that is why they stand at the top. Takeshi Yamamoto is no different. It's just because he rarely shows this persona that when unleashed, the effect is somehow scarier and menacing. Nevertheless, Irma secretly thanked the deities above for having Takeshi Yamamoto as their ally. God knows what would've happened if a beast like him ended up in the wrong side.
With the amount of filth they discovered about the Vescovi, they had it coming.
Irma took a shivering breath and pulled the trigger, the explosion that followed sounding music to her ears.
4.
Years of experience made Mafia life practically running in Hayato Gokudera's veins. There was no way around it. Loyalty and genius mind aside, his affinity with the works of the underworld was what kept him invincible and effective as the Right Hand Man of the Decimo. So when news reached the Main Base about the attack and how bad it got, the first thing he did was plan an immediate action. The people in the Control Room buzzed in anxiety and adrenaline, but it made their jobs done quickly.
He was partly relieved and worried- not that he'd admit that in his dying breath- that Yamamoto happened to touch base in Cagliari. Relieved, for at least their branch base at least had one Guardian to increase the odds of winning against the Vescovi bastards. Worried, for the sword idiot and the huge possibility he'd end up ridden in new scars and be out of the field for a while- which meant paperwork. More paperwork for him and Boss Tsuna.
If this was Hibari, Mukuro, or Reborn then he wouldn't have to worry at all.
Hayato had called Kyoya's Division and he's sure they're heading to battle just as how his own squad was airborne towards Cagliari. He had called Tsuna, and the young Don along with Chrome and Reborn promised their return, too. Lambo and Ryohei were too far and wouldn't reach on time but they were still alerted and was told to keep safe, and Hayato promised to deliver news after this fiasco.
With the situation relayed to them, he was sure they would win this one easily. The only problem was if Takeshi and the others could hold the fort until backup arrives. They have to, he said to himself, or I'd kill the idiot myself.
Arriving at the scene, he immediately ordered his men to seize the Vescovi from behind while the others were told to drop in the middle of it all to aid their comrades. Hayato was used to the scene play out in front of him: the explosions, the bodies, the gunfire, the burning smell of metal and flesh, and the crimson spraying all over the place. The outside was more of crumbled structures and a chaos of a burned forest with a few bodies here and there. The inside proved to be greatly damaged, especially inside the first and second security walls. The third and last wall of defense was where the heart of the battle was, as it was where most of the fight still roared in defiance.
It took a while, but he finally found the familiar raven-haired swordsman amidst the bloody ruins. Her second-in-command was nowhere in sight, but the sound of a body hitting the ground with a bullet between its unseeing eyes made it clear that she wasn't dead yet.
The important part which he severely missed at first sight was the carnage around him, and the stranger with fiery eyes matching the sinister glint of the sword on his right hand. Hayato had watched, frozen in place, as the stranger moved fluidly to break a man's wrist and catch the gun it once held, firing unerringly at the jugular of another who attempted jumping from the back. He rang a few lethal shots, taking one enemy down with each, until he used it all and instead of throwing it the stranger disassembled the customized gun and made it look easier to use the edged part as a hunting knife.
Unrelenting yet, a man from the other side swung a large and purple flames-coated staff at the stranger's chest. Hayato saw the expression barely moved as the other man jumped high on his toes and balanced itself on the poorly-swung staff. With a strikingly impassive face he brought down the back of his sword at the enemy. He was a whirlwind of sinister grace and destruction, stopping for no one and unstoppable by any of the people in this room. He whose eyes burned scathingly like the earth embraced in flames while the rest of his being moved in a dance of a reaper. He was a force rare to be found.
The stranger had the same face, same sword, and same build to the swordsman Hayato knew. The only difference, and the only reason why he couldn't believe it, was the cold expression on his face contrasting to the seething flame alight on his brown orbs. It's not red, but somehow it's not less spine-chilling. The man was not the Takeshi Yamamoto he knew who laughed heartily and had a strange, kind- if not naively so, chivalrous soul. Gone was the air of cheerful pretenses and light-hearted disposition. Gone was idiotic personality, for what stood in front of him was another man. A complete stranger who looked like he lived for moments like these which unleashed the savage demon inside of him.
He's too stubborn to admit it, but he's always had suspicions. People who tend to smile the most hide a darker side to them, or so he learned. The fact that Takeshi was hailed as a natural-born killer by the greatest hitman in the world, and the fact that he had become one of Vongola's infamous assassins that Tsuna trusted him to make the call whenever a face appeared notoriously under their radar should have clued him about just how capable this man was. He may not be born in the Mafia, but he was fit for this life. A cold-blood assassin, a wolf who stubbornly chose to wear a sheepskin in an attempt to hide his true nature. Or perhaps it had always been a part of his nature to be passive and unaffected of everything unless someone pushed the wrong button. Perhaps Takeshi Yamamoto didn't intend to hide the threat that he was as a sign of weakness as he simply enjoyed how the world underestimated him and left him be; and that fact itself was haunting. The conclusion he reached sent his brain to even sinister thoughts.
He forced himself to stop thinking. If he was still alive and not mistaken as an enemy by the swordsman then maybe not everything of him was unfamiliar yet. He'd take fighting alongside a monster than be on the wrong side of its blade as a blessing. With that thought, he lit his flames and fought.
Later, all the threat was neutralized and no one was left standing except him, Yamamoto, a few more survivors, and the redhead sniper who went down from her nest to join his chief. He found the look on the woman's face mirroring his: confusion and awe mixed with fear.
The swordsman in question sat himself heavily atop one of the debris, shoulders slumped and breaths ragged. His face was darkened by his hair dripping in water mingling with blood. His katana didn't return to its wooden form as it stood like unwaveringly between his arms, supporting a bone-tired figure like it's the only thing keeping him upright. No expression bled out from him.
Just when either Irma or Hayato decided to act, the sound of their Decimo rang through the torn walls calling his two best friends' name.
5.
"Everyone! Are you alright?" Tsunayoshi Sawada, the Tenth Boss of Vongola sounded so worried when he approached the group. He didn't even bat an eyelash to the gruesome aftermath of the battle.
His eyes didn't miss every one of his allies, and it made Hayato's heart swell in admiration for their ever-gentle Sky. The medics came rushing towards them, ushering the wounded and tending to the ones who might still be saved. Irma refused to leave his chief's side, awaiting orders. She wasn't injured, not like the ones covered in a sick amount of blood- like his boss for example. Worry etched into Tsuna's face, along with something else that's painful but too complicated to discern.
Takeshi huffed out a breath, his bullheadedness on display as he stood on his feet and held his ground, still not showing outward signs of pain or any emotions. The room seemed to focus on him, but either he didn't notice or paid no mind to it. "Sir, you n-"
"Sorry, Irma. Can you take care of this for now? I kinda need to be somewhere else right now." Takeshi had sounded tired, defeated even as how clear victory went for them. Irma looked like she wanted to say something else (probably a sarcastic retort, Tsuna's hyper intuition thought) but steeled herself in the usual grace she has, "Yes, sir."
The Rain Guardian shifted, walking in measured steps like there's no one else in the room. He stopped, as if thrown out of his focus, when a familiar anxious voice called out to him. "Takeshi." Tsuna felt no words coming aside from his friend's name.
"Don't worry about it, Tsuna." The swordsman responded. And it was always the same reply from similar conversations between them. It's the same hollow, cracking voice that belied his indifference. Tsuna would in return respond with the same genuine words that were probably the only ones that could penetrate the defenses of his guardian, "You did well, Takeshi."
Tsuna had known this all along; Reborn had told him long ago when Takeshi made his first kill in the name of Vongola. Tsuna had known, and up until now only Reborn and him and two of his guardians had witnessed the other colors of the Rain Guardian. He had known, and sometimes he wished it didn't have to be this way. He wished for his friend to continue smiling and be the calming rain that soothed them all.
Reborn told him it's impossible, for sometimes the rain could be destructive. Instead of crystal waters, the rain could wreak havoc with acid and blood. It's not always, but there would always be times like this that even the rain has to be strong enough to purge impurites even if it meant temporarily losing the purity of his element. The duty of the Sky is to bring the purity back no matter what.
His duty was to pick the pieces of his friend each time he gave away a part of his soul for the cause of putting the Mafia world in a path envisioned by the First generation. It's not an easy job, and never will be. It had been six years now, and Tsuna didn't think for a second it would eventually be easier. But in all those years, if there's thing he's sure of it's this: Takeshi would fall to pieces, but he would always fix himself together. He had sworn after his first kill that he wouldn't lose light, and that he would always value his life as he does with this family. He wouldn't change, he didn't really. He just added another spectrum of his persona- one that didn't have to show unless necessary.
Tsuna knew this, so he trusted that in his own time, Takeshi would be back to himself. So he smiled, "You'd bring me tea later, right?" you'd tell me if there's something wrong, right?
The swordsman didn't reply, but it's not a cause for further concern. Takeshi gave the barest nods before disappearing to god knows where, probably to compose himself.
"The Vescovi really did it this time, huh." Reborn, the adult one, commented idly from the far end of the entrance unperturbed by the fact that it could collapse. Tsuna casted a look to his Right Hand man that gently said not to worry, before turning to the older hitman.
"This would give them a warning, but I think it's time to teach them a lesson." Tsuna declared in a way that made Reborn smirk in pride he could just see under the hat. Hayato fell into step with him, Irma on the other side but keeping a respectful distance from the two Vongola heads.
Tsuna had a strong sense that Reborn was pretty damn proud of his other student, too. Unlike him who's slightly worried, he seemed to have an utmost confidence for the hitman prodigy. And that finally put Tsuna at ease.
+1
Kyoya watched, eyes glinting against the rising sun. The man walking without a direction in his sight was his target. Takeshi Yamamoto, for all his herbivorous tendencies, was a carnivore. And he'd known this for quite long. Perhaps it was from the first time they bared at each other with no pretenses of friendliness, nor competition. It was when they fought at each other for the hell of it: one trait he never thought he'd share with the swordsman.
Sawada was an omnivore, no doubt the strongest Alpha in the pack. But he's also still timid to fight him from time to time. The pineapple bastard and he could only fight so much that it's becoming a routine and monotonous even though sometimes it gave him the familiar thrill he loved. Reborn's always indulged him, but he's just busy disappearing to nowhere most of the time. Dino was more times clumsy than focused on their spars. Regardless, they're all carnivores, and they didn't hide it either. It's why he knew in the first place.
Takeshi was an interesting case: a carnivore choosing to fit into a herbivore's hide. A monster on his own right with a sword and a hitman's core, but a demon at the rarest times he allowed himself to be. He may have hated the man's idiotic persona, respected the man's skills as an assassin and a swordsman, but this rare side of him attracted him the most.
Kyoya took a leap and landed without a noise behind the swordsman, noting immediately the slight shift of the muscles under his blood-stained clothes. Takeshi looked strained, hunched back easily fooling anyone into thinking he's an easy target by now. Kyoya's not fooled in the slightest, as a lesson of that one time he was led to believe that this man was a waste of talent. The grip on his sword was loose, but he knew the other looked more like a coiled spring. He took it as a positive sign.
"I don't think I can handle fighting you today, Kyoya." the man still hadn't moved from his position. Kyoya's grin turned feral as he whipped his tonfas out, the other raising his sword with uncanny speed.
"Lies."
Takeshi wouldn't admit it and Kyoya would beat him up for it anyway, but he's grateful for the times the other man had forced him to fight. Sometimes it's the only way to clear his head and get himself back to order, the ruthless side of him calming down and settling back to its corner until the next opportunity aroused.
Kyoya knew this, too. But he's too busy enjoying the fight to actually care.
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