Yamamoto Takeshi had heard a lot about this restaurant, but it wasn't like he believed the rumours. Anyway, he wanted nothing to do with it; his baseball career was going great, his life was great, everything was just so fucking great.

Except for the thought that his friends were fake, and the nagging sensation of incompleteness. Not to mention, that restaurant rubbed him the wrong way like nothing else. (Especially given that his mother had had interactions with the place days before she died.)

(In short, Yamamoto knew the restaurant was Bad but couldn't prove it.)

When he found out Tsuna, the infamous Dame-Tsuna, was in hospital, he was sadder than he thought he would be. After all, they had never talked, never hung out, had never been in the same team in gym class – hell, Yamamoto couldn't remember the last time he had said good morning.

But the urge to see Tsuna was strong enough to drag him to the hospital, ask to see Tsuna, and make his way down the familiar halls.

Yamamoto cautiously peered in, wondering why the hell he was here. Tsuna was awake, watching the tv and picking at his food. He jumped at the sight of Yamamoto, face going white with pain.

"Yamamoto-kun," he managed. "W-What are you doing here?"

Yamamoto took that as an invitation and sauntered into the room. "Hey, Tsuna. How are you?" He cursed his easy-going nature. How are you? Isn't it obvious?!
"I'm fine," Tsuna said by reflex, seemingly still shocked by the baseball ace's presence.

"That's good," Yamamoto said, now feeling distinctly awkward. Why had he come here again? "So, uh, I heard you were...attacked at the restaurant?"

"Yeah," Tsuna said vaguely. "I don't really remember."

Yamamoto wanted to call Tsuna a liar but that would stop the information flooding out. "The restaurant sounds like it has some pretty dangerous chefs, na, Tsuna?"

Tsuna flinched, and Yamamoto again cursed himself. Why couldn't he behave like a normal person and stop fooling around?

"Y-Yeah," Tsuna managed to say. "Well..." He stopped from saying anything more.

"Tsuna?" Yamamoto looked at him blithely. "Something you want to say...?"

Tsuna shrugged, wincing at the pull of stitches. "You wouldn't believe me." More like, Tsuna didn't trust Yamamoto. Did Tsuna even have friends?

Troubled by the thought, but more driven to find out about the restaurant, Yamamoto soon left. He would deal with Tsuna's apparent loneliness later.

~o0o~

Yamamoto tried to behave normally, but it was difficult when a guy your age was glaring at you behind a thick cover of smoke and what he thought was eyeliner. (He would have laughed this off if it was anyone else, but this guy seemed like trouble.)

When Yamamoto tried to give a friendly nod, the other spat and turned away. Perplexed, Yamamoto focused back to his food; he was just trying to be friendly?

"Yamamoto Takeshi," a man with round glasses said, standing over him. Yamamoto flinched.

"How do you-"

The man gestured. "Don't you want to know what happened to your mother?"

Yamamoto swallowed thickly. Okay, he knew something was weird, but who the fuck was this guy.

But of course, this stranger had said the magic words. Yamamoto had to know. So he followed, staring around him in an attempt to remember.

The man introduced himself as Kawahira, and, opening a door, winked and said, "You'll see a well-kept secret, but don't worry; this time, nothing bad will happen."

"This time-?!" Yamamoto resisted, but Kawahira was unexpectedly strong. He shoved Yamamoto into the room, slamming the door shut and locking it. Yamamoto banged against the door, trying to force it open.

"Hey! Lemme out-"

"Ma, ma, what a strange place," a voice – his voice – said from behind him. Yamamoto froze and turned to face the mirrors.

He was dressed just like him, in a Namimori Middle uniform with a baseball bat resting on his shoulder. He smiled at him(self?).

Yamamoto gaped, the 'reflected' one gaping back.

"Well, this must be part of the mafia game," the other said.

"Mafia game? That sounds like fun."

"It is," the other agreed, glancing around. "Are you in a room full of mirrors as well?"

Yamamoto nodded, and the second Yamamoto grinned easily. "Cool. Uh, do you see anything?"

The mirror-Yamaoto narrowed his eyes at the mirrors around him. ""Well...I don't suppose you see anyone else?"

"No?" Yamamoto squinted at all of them. "Just black."

"Huh." The mirror version of him shrugged, forcing a smile and carelessly saying, "S'all good. So how's your world going?"

"Great," Yamamoto said easily. "The baseball tournament's coming up, and I've been getting a lot of practice in."

"Don't practice too much, you might get injured."

"Yeah, I know."

"And how's Tsuna? Gokudera? Sasagawa-sempai?"

Yamamoto frowned at the mirror. "Um. Tsuna is in hospital, Sasagawa-san's in nationals, and I don't know who Gokudera is."

"Tsuna is in hospital?" The mirror Yamamoto looked startled. "What for?"

"He came to this restaurant and was attacked. He's lucky to be alive, apparently. Like, his heart was punctured, but the owner managed to save his life..." Yamamoto trailed off, frowning, steel flashing in his eyes. "I came here to find out stuff...So I take it, we're not the same Yamamoto?"

"Yeah. A fun game, right?"

"So how's mum in your world?"

The mirror Yamamoto paled. "She's...not around any more."

They stared at each other. "How?"

"Car accident."

"...Oh. Sorry."

"No. But I take it your mum's...?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

Both looked uncomfortable, shifting in place. "Ah, I have to go now," the mirrored one said, turning and waving at an unknown. "See you, maybe? And have fun with life."

"Yeah, see you," he called out after himself, turning as the door clicked open.

"Had fun?" Kawahira asked.

"I guess. But-"

"No more questions," Kawahira said, winking. "But I'll be seeing you again, Yamamoto."

And Yamamoto left the restaurant, more confused than ever.