Thank you very much thus far. I hope this chapter doesn't bore you, lol.
I do not own the picture or the characters - KHR belongs to the wonderful Amano Akira, and I firmly credit the original artist.
My transitions are very clumsy, and my pacing might be fast - so if there are any grammar mistakes, or very confusing transitions, please do let me know, and I'll see what I can do about it !
But please, do enjoy and tell me what you think !
Two
IT WASN'T RAINING ANYMORE, yet dark clouds loomed over the earth, like a permanent reminder of the unnerving weather, a cluster of black and blurry figures materializing out of thin air, obscuring the beam of sunlight peeking through the distorted and shadowy features. Soft droplets fell on the crust of the earth, and in response, the soft, lenient ground turned rigid, as if it was broadening on itself, away from the sizzling touches of the raindrops.
Takeshi leaned against a nearby tree, exhausted and fatigued beyond words. His suit was frayed – ruined would be a better word, perhaps will be used for kitchen scraps the next time he sees Hayato's sister.
Not that he cared much; expenses were never really a problem for someone like him. His sword lay untouched beside him, idly positioned on the hard oak-like borders of the tree, blood trickling slowly down the blade, as if time slackened everything, every movement available. Neither Takeshi, nor anyone else for that matter, had the strength to stand up.
Fire and smoke in union still ate away the remains of the building; old, grey walls turning into charred and black relics in the middle of nowhere. Only a few people tried to stop and slow down the flames, but even then, fatigue was written plainly on their figure.
Everyone was already dismissed for the day. Takeshi's men left the vicinity without another word of protest; Hibari had made certain of that.
Hibari. The thought of the other made Takeshi smash his teeth together both in anger and in vain.
"Oi! Baseball idiot!" someone called him over the loud abusing sounds of the inferno. Takeshi didn't respond.
The ground heaved a loud squelch, leaves rustling, and moments later, Gokudera Hayato stood in front of him, hands on hips and the usual mundane scowl settled on an angry mouth. "Didn't you fucking here me call you?" He was dripping wet, and his suit was soaked through with a mysterious dark liquid that Takeshi immediately concluded was blood. Again, though, Takeshi didn't respond. He reacted by reaching for his sword and unsheathing it.
Hayato didn't find this sudden action amusing. "Baseball idiot what're you—"
"I told you to wait, didn't I?" Hayato furrowed his eyebrows, bemused by the swordsman's sudden calm and collected tone.
Takeshi stood and threw the sword to the ground, eyes bleak and furious. "Didn't I tell you to wait for my signal? Why did you throw the bomb? There were children in there." At this, Hayato narrowed his eyes.
"You know fucking well why I threw the dynamite, Yamamoto." Takeshi bristled.
"Do you not understand what I'm saying? There were children, children locked in there. They could've suffocated to death, or worse." He strongly emphasized the word 'children'. "And you threw that damn bomb without so much as blinking an eyelash."
"You saw him, baseball-idiot." Hayato was now standing face to face with Yamamoto, the trees obscuring his eyes from view, but the glare he was directing prominent and so very visible. "You saw him, and you saw what those people were planning on doing."
His glare hardened. "You can't just fucking expect me to just sit still and hope that all is well, when the Tenth was right there before us," he snarled.
"That isn't an excuse to casually dismiss orders," Takeshi countered.
"The Tenth wouldn't be alive if it weren't for what I did."Hayato's face was black with fury.
"Tsuna wouldn't think that—"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Hayato murmured, running a frustrated hand through his dreadlocks. They've had this conversation over a hundred times already, but each time, Takeshi emerged unscathed from these heated quarrels, not heeding the advice, as clueless and as ignorant as ever, and Hayato just fumed silently, knowing his warning fell on deaf hears. "Wake up already, Yamamoto. This is the mafia! Didn't he tell you that there were sacrifices that needed to be made in order to get what we want!"
He let out a shaky exhale, attempting to reel back his anger. "One wrong move and you're dead. Hesitate and you would never live to see the next day. I've been involved with the underground society all of my life, I know how the fundamentals around here work like the back of my hand."
"Then you took the risk knowing well that Tsuna could've died," he countered coldly. Hayato paused, considering this, taking it in.
Eventually, he relented. "Yes." Takeshi's eyes widen; first to bewilderment, then to horror, then rage.
Without thinking, he had the hilt of his sword in one hand, the sharp blade positioned over Hayato's neck, close enough to draw blood out, but not enough to cause fatal damage.
His other hand had Hayato's head lolling to the side, his tie locked within Takeshi's hand in a firm grip, bringing him nearer to the face of death. He was inhaling and exhaling deeply, his breath creating small puffs of air in the cold night. His grip around his sword was so tight, that his knuckles throb and shook nonstop, turning into a ghostly shade of white. Yamamoto suppressed the killer urge to push the blade further.
"Let me go Takeshi," Hayato admonished him coldly, tonelessly, making no attempt to push the blade away. Yamamoto felt his entire body shake with rage, and Hayato's air of nonchalance wasn't helping him calm down, either. Something like this shouldn't be taken lightly, it should matter more to Hayato. It should matter more.
"How could you be so casual about this?" Yamamoto exclaimed, the vastness of their surroundings making the anger in his voice evident, more palpable, more threatening.
Hayato's face was as dim as the devil himself. "Why shouldn't I fucking be?" Hayato yelled back, just as fierce, just as loud, arms now loosely gripping Takeshi's elbow. "Taking risks is what we do, bastard! There's no point in being a guardian if you're just going to sit back and cry, sole custody! whenever something wrong happens!" Hayato's eyes were fierce and narrowed, and he looked at Takeshi with fiery intensity. "The sooner you acknowledge this, the better—I can't just fucking wait around when the Tenth was right there in front of me, suffering, suffering so fucking much because of those rotten bastards!" Hayato was panting now, and Takeshi was no different.
The swordsman took this in, digesting these words, and instead of nurturing this sudden outburst, the sudden confession, the anger inside him flared to an almost suffocating level.
Hayato suddenly seemed to grow impatient, seeing that Yamamoto had no intention of releasing him, and decided to shove the other away, both stumbling back from the force behind the shove; Hayato was mindful of the sharp blade across his neck, and when he turned to look up, Yamamoto's head was veered downwards, staring at his feet as if they were the most interesting notion in the world, and his sword clattered on the grass, dampening with the scorching touches of the raindrops.
The bomber, seeing the other's listless and pitiful figure in the downpour, scowled deeply, seeing that the swordsman was as deaf as ever, and spun, preparing to leave.
But the sound of Takeshi's voice halted him, made him turn around, eyes slightly widening in bafflement. "Tsuna's with Hibari; he drugged him."
"He what?"
"It's because Tsuna's different now, Hayato… " When Takeshi turned to look at him, his eyes were rimmed with red, and he looked like he was preventing himself from gagging. "He's not the same person—you saw those bodies in the hallways, right?" Hayato took this in, and nodded. His sharp mind measured the meaning behind Yamamoto's cryptic words, before it all clicked, fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle, and he repressed the sudden urge to punch Yamamoto in the face. "So he drugged him because he thought that the Tenth was unstable?" Hayato was incredulous, but also mad. Madder than he'd ever been.
"How the fuck could you let him think that way about the Tenth!" Hayato roared, stomping his feet, enough to make the ground shake. Takeshi nearly winced.
"I tried! You know how Hibari feels about—"
"Don't bring that heartless bastard back into our conversation!" Hayato stomped towards Yamamoto, snarling like an angered dog. "I'm asking why you let him do that! I didn't just fucking waste half a decade of my life only for him to harm the Tenth—"
"He wasn't harming him—"
"What does drugging define as harming, baseball-bastard?" Hayato yelled.
Takeshi squared his shoulders. "He did what he thought was best—"
"Come off it!" Gokudera took a step back, before heading south. "Where are you going!" Takeshi shouted after him, the wind pulling at his voice.
Hayato didn't stop. "I'm going to teach that bastard a fucking lesson," was Hayato's clip and stiff explanation, before disappearing around the facility walls.
Takeshi stared after him for one fleeting moment, before he thought back to how they all had gotten themselves into this mess in the first place.
Perhaps if Takeshi had stopped Hibari, made him see reason, then perhaps he would've questioned Tsuna, would've been given the chance to talk to him; perhaps they could have reconciled, could have racked their shared history back to life.
But then, he thought about Hibari; with his unforgivable steel gaze, his aloof aura, the air of equanimity that hung around like a heavy cloth.
And he knew Hibari well enough to know what he plans to do with Tsuna.
He would never let Tsuna go; not unless Tsuna showed signs that he wasn't going to kill them at any spare chance he got. He would chain him down, and cling to him, drowning him, keeping a mindful watch on him. He wouldn't even care if these things would slowly drive Tsuna into a spiral of madness, what Hibari deems right and just, would indeed, be fulfilled.
And Takeshi, no matter how he hated to admit it, couldn't do anything about it.
"Do you really think Tsuna might be there?" Takeshi asked; brown eyes narrowed worriedly as he looked at the other man clad in black, raven locks prim and neat, but his cobalt eyes steeling seriously. "Are you questioning my judgement, herbivore?" Takeshi winced, but shook his head.
The raven-haired man gave a firm nod. "Yes, I am certain." He trailed his hand over the map like a general would when marching his soldiers to battle. "There were a lot of kidnapping sighted around here—" He pointed at a certain district. "And here—" He pointed to another town, and, startlingly, these two districts were near each other. "So, their base would be located around here—" He circled his hands over the green patches, marking it as a forest district. "Where nobody would venture in, because of the rumors that circulates around the town about ridiculous ghosts and whatnots."
Takeshi, instead of looking reassured, nervously flicked his eyes towards the raven-haired man. "Are we just seeing what we want to see?" Giving his own opinion, he pointed at the green patches. "I've been there, Hibari, and everything in this region is filled with moors that could sink in trespassers if they don't pay close attention."
Hibari gave him an incredulous look. "Isn't that an all the more reason to go there?" This time, Hayato emerged from the shadows, cigarette in hand. He sneered.
"I've gotta agree with the skylark on this one, baseball-idiot." He, too, trailed his fingers across the map. "We've scoured the entire country – and even Japan – but there was no sign of the Tenth there. And both times, we arose from the search, fruitless." He gave Takeshi a hard look. "Venice is the only city we haven't yet put forward through with." His grip around the cigarette tightened. "We've gotta take our chances with the storm."
Takeshi gave them both a miserable look. "But ten years have already passed by, guys," he said. "And one of us might die out there – and you know very well the moors aren't what I'm talking about," he continued unhelpfully. The trio stayed silent.
They were fugitives, criminals at most, and even Hibari was forced to leave Japan to take refuge in Italy.
Hayato's grip continued to tighten, despite the cigarette crumbling under his hold. "You don't need to remind us about that, you baseball bastard." His emerald orbs glowed fiercely. "We know very well the risk that we're taking, but remember that Vongola's got our back, and the Tenth—" he paused, flicking the cigarette away.
Once again, the topic of their boss hangs in the air like a ticking time bomb.
Hayato was the first to snap them all back to reality. "I'm going, and I'm sure the skylark would be more than delighted to offer his assistance." He trudged his way out of the room, and made sure to slam the door a little harder than necessary on his way out.
Takeshi heaved a riled sigh. He looked at the raven-haired next. "Hibari, you know that Tsuna wouldn't want any more bloodshed—"
"Tsunayoshi isn't here." Takeshi clambered his mouth shut at this, knowing that it was the harsh reality of their situation. "And while the omnivore isn't around… " He closed the map, sending Takeshi a dark look. "That would leave me in charge of all you herbivores, and I expect you all to act accordingly." With this resolve, Hibari left the room, leaving Takeshi alone with his own thoughts.
"Is everything ready?" Takeshi asked, looking over the dense trees that hid the moors from view as Hayato fumbled with something behind him.
Hayato huffed out an irked grunt. "Yes, I got everything ready."
Takeshi smiled. "Let's go then."
Crossing the moors was so easy that it almost made Takeshi dubious.
Takeshi and Hayato easily blended in with the shadows, their suits melding with the darkness as the night sky shone upon the building, its decaying walls a stark contrast to what lies inside.
Takeshi's professional eyes trailed over the small vicinity, noting the small cameras carefully hidden from view and nodding at Hayato, who had a joint lit to his mouth and scowled, (giving his face a wonderfully villainous glow).
He bent down, and dished out a pack of dynamites.
"Is that all it is?" Takeshi asked with a pang of disappointment. Hayato threw him a seething glare.
"Don't you, 'is that all it is?' me you bastard." He tinkered with the device, scowling. "It took me years to get this shit working."
Takeshi passed him a curious glance. "How long?"
Hayato looked at him. "Five, maybe a little over six years," he shrugged. "I lost count."
Takeshi raised a brow, somewhat impressed. "You do realize that if the military gets its hand on that thing, they could destroy an entire continent," he mused, exaggerating. Hayato's mundane scowl at this joke made Takeshi chuckle. He unsheathed his sword, studying it.
Hayato rolled his eyes. "As if I would let those fuckers get their hands over what's mine." He continued to tamper with the device, adjusting wires, etc.; things too complicated for Takeshi's simple brain to comprehend. "How are your men doing in the southern district?" Hayato asked, surprising Takeshi, since he so rarely asked questions. He removed the cigarette from his mouth before crushing it and throwing it away.
Takeshi grinned. He loved that question. "They're doing great," he said, animated. "I called them over and they quickly follo—"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it – shut the fuck up before you blow my ears off." Hayato made a show of scratching his ear, vein mark popping and all.
Takeshi's smile fell. "Well, you shouldn't have asked then if you actually never cared in the first place—" Hayato stilled, a signal for Takeshi to end his rambling.
Takeshi groaned. "I wish Tsuna kept that influence he had over you—"
"Tenth?" Takeshi stilled. It was very rare for Hayato to mention their boss in such a manner, and he was still – too still for comfort. His hand shook over the dynamite and Takeshi turned his head and also, in turn, was stilled, silenced, stumped frozen in place.
There, in the window a few quarters away, was the silhouette of a boy, brown turf unkempt and untamed and so very, very familiar.
That had only half of their attention; what held their gaze were the organs the doctor held, and at the dotted lines that stood out over the boy's pale stomach.
Before he could say anything, Hayato roared, his face livid with hot and dark anger, one that Takeshi has never witnessed before, and hurdled himself towards the window before Takeshi could tell him to stop.
The 'boom' that ensued was so loud that the sound vibrated throughout Takeshi's skull, and he watched in shock as half of the estate was engulfed in fire. (Just how fucking powerful was that bomb?)
Takeshi managed to piece himself back together and blew out a small tsk upon fully registering what just happened.
Hibari isn't going to like this, he thought, exasperated. He leaped down the tree and ran towards the door.
What met him when he ventured in was… bloody that was for sure. He grimaced at the blood splattered entrance. But he was already used to such things –more like he was forced to, anyway - so he collected himself before climbing up the spiral staircase, letting his instincts kick in, and dodging the horde of bullets aimed at him. He grinned and diced them with his sword, movements so blurred and swift that it was too difficult for the enemy to catch.
Takeshi took in the situation. Sure, he was outnumbered, but judging by the way they held their guns, their weapons, they were weaklings. No match for someone like him.
In a matter of seconds, they were all down, bleeding and groaning.
"Pathetic," Takeshi said, sighing. I expected more from the famiglia who had the audacity to take Tsuna away from us. He sheathed his sword, ambling further down the uncannily white foyer. His eyes went over everything, memorizing each structure, each construction with calculating orbs. He hated it. Hated everything it stood for, it represented. He hated it.
He hated all of it.
He heard the harrowing screams of someone down the corridor, veering him off the course of his wandering thoughts. Believing that it was one of his men that Hibari sent for backup, he vaulted down the hall, eyes wide and frantic. He would not stand for the torment of his men.
When he arrived, everything was covered in smoke and blood. Debris was everywhere. This place was beyond ruined. Coughing and waving the smoke away, he squinted, blinded by the smoke for a second. Blood seeped through his clothes and he wadded his foot, disgusted.
His sharp ears managed to pick up the sound of breathing. Someone was still alive.
He grabbed his sword, preparing to dice somebody if deemed necessary, but then, he lowered his blade, not because he was suddenly relieved of his worries, but because of the disastrous scene playing before him.
A body lay beneath him, flayed and listless; Takeshi didn't need to be a doctor to know that the man was dead. He'd seen many dead bodies in his short human lifespan to identify a chest that ceased to rise and fall, limbs that sagged lifelessly. There was a gaping hole in the middle of the corpse's chest, signaling the alarming absence of a heart.
And that said heart was wrapped around the fingers of a boy in the middle of the bloodied foyer.
A brunet boy, who had ragged clothes soaked through and through with blood, had a heart, a heart, an actual fucking heart, firmly clutched around his hand, still beating, and the boy just stood there, watching in some kind of twisted fascination as it continued to beat. A knife was held tightly in his other hand, dripping with the blood of the corpses. Body fluid dripped down his pale face, whether it was the boy's own or someone else's, he couldn't tell. But the scene made Takeshi feel sick.
He walked forward, free arm outstretched, the ground beneath him heaving out a loud squelch. "Tsu… na?" he whispered before he could stop himself and he paused midway in alarm as the boy whirled, startled, and Takeshi sucked in a sharp intake of breath.
The boy's face... his face was so familiar that Takeshi's brain refused to believe it; refused to digest this reality. Yet the proof was right before his eyes, breathing and alive.
Yet damaged; that much was obvious.
Without warning, the boy dropped the heart and charged at him, eyes narrowed with the full intention of hurling the blunt object into Takeshi's chest. This observation quickly made him step back, alarm bells ringing around him as the boy skidded to a halt, eyes so wide that they could've belonged to a child. He took two steps, before clicking his tongue and making a run for it, with Takeshi letting out an inhuman noise from the surprising display of defiance.
He was just about to chase him but a presence behind him made him pause and turn.
Hibari stood there, ignoring the incredulous look Takeshi was throwing at him, arms crossed and face as blank as ever. But his eyes were narrowed having, no doubt, witnessed the entire scene, and he was contemplating. Fuck. Takeshi clenched his fist, and without another pause, ran after the brunet boy's figure, not letting the supposed leader of their troupe hinder him from fulfilling his needs.
Perhaps it was a good thing that Tsuna was soaked through with blood, because the boy was ridiculously fast, and Takeshi had to sprint to catch sight of him. Seeing that he couldn't escape with Takeshi trailing behind him, the boy whirled his head around before skidding to an abrupt pause when he was beside the window.
Realization dawned on Takeshi and he paused as well, disbelief written all over him.
He wouldn't, Takeshi thought, paling.
But the boy was a risk taker, and it didn't take him but a second to climb up and arch down, much to Takeshi's sheer horror.
There was another window, with a rod attached to the wall, so Takeshi sprinted towards it and slid down in one, fluid motion, landing on the ground and using his sword as a stick to secure his landing. He watched the brunet boy descended, arms crossed across his face in an attempt to shield himself from the oncoming fall.
Takeshi reached out and caught him, relieved that the boy was safe within the confines of his arms.
The boy on the other hand though, was not at all pleased at this and jerked around; waving the knife in Takeshi's face like he was threatening to cut half of the swordsman's face off.
Takeshi laughed. It was an actual laugh. "Whoa, you're really fast, Tsuna!" he exclaimed, grinning playfully. The brunet squirmed at this before pausing, confusion evident from the way his brows connected together, before he curled a small fist around Takeshi's chest, and then aggressively shoving him away.
Looking disheveled, the boy glanced around the perimeter, looking for an escape route. But by the time he was already on the ground, Takeshi's troop had surrounded the area, blocking him and providing him no hope of making another attempt to escape.
Takeshi was about to reach out, but the boy pulled out his knife, snarling like an angered bear. "Go no further," he threatened tonelessly, but there was a sharp and dangerous edge to his voice. Far sharper than the bloody knife that he held tightly across his face.
He edged towards the tree's direction, but Takeshi knew what he was planning on doing, and ambled towards him, firmly keeping a tight hold over his tattered shoulders. The brunet jerked back and looked over at him in shock and uneasiness and confusion. That quickly wiped the smile off of Takeshi's face.
"They really did a ton of damage to you in that laboratory, huh?" Takeshi said, eyes softening. The brunet boy flinched and his eyes rounded in alarm, but then, he narrowed them again and pushed Takeshi away.
"I said," the brunet boy growled, squaring his soldiers, "go no further." Takeshi widened his eyes and felt himself hurting because of it. His pain must've shown itself because the boy's eyes rounded in alarm, slightly bemused.
Takeshi noticed the whispers erupting from his men and he shot them a firm glare - signaling for them to leave. They nodded, although reluctantly because they could clearly see the blood-soaked boy who had no reason as to why he shouldn't stain his fingers again with the blood of their leader, but another firm glare had them leaving the vicinity without saying another word.
When they left, Takeshi turned to look at the brunet boy, smiling. "Tsuna, I want you to listen to me." He held the boy's arm and he jerked, raising the knife threateningly. Takeshi's smile fell again.
His eyes went downcast. "I—" Before he could think of finishing his statement, someone seized Tsuna's arm from behind, causing the boy to jerk and wave the knife around, snarling lividly. But the figure tightened his hold around the brunet boy and places a sterilized cloth over his mouth. The boy still struggled, but they eventually grew sluggish and slow, slumping against the figure, his eyelids fluttering, threatening to close.
Takeshi lets an indignant yell of surprise escape his lips. "You're hurting him, Hibari!" He walked forward, intending to take Tsuna, but Hibari shot him a threatening glare, warning him to go no further.
"You saw what this boy did," he said, jerking Tsuna's body. "He's unstable. Dangerous. He killed those surgeons without so much as batting an eyelash." He tightened his hold, preventing the boy from doing anything about the situation. "He needs to be put down."
"But you're hurting him!" Takeshi protested, furious. "And how could you have possibly known that?" As soon as the words left his mouth, though, Takeshi felt himself falter, knowing the answer to that question. Of course he knew. He was fucking Hibari Kyouya.
And nothing ever got past him.
Hibari gave him a hard look. He swiftly pulled the knife away from the boy's weak grip and placed him over his shoulders like a ragged doll. "Say all you want, but I was there before the explosion happened." His gaze was cold and steady. "I witnessed their deaths. This boy killed all of them in cold blood." He raised the knife, studying it, before handing it towards Takeshi to emphasize his point. "He's a killer, herbivore."
Takeshi's face continued to pale, and the smile he wore previously was replaced by a deep scowl. "That's not some killer," Takeshi yelled, "that's Tsuna! Don't you remember, Hibari? He was experimented on for ten years - kidnapped." He narrowed his eyes. "He was taken from us!"
Hibari held Takeshi's angered gaze with his own steady ones. "Don't think I don't know that, herbivore," he said, but then he threw Takeshi a cold glance. "But you must remember," he added, releasing the cloth and watching it fall down the ground. "No matter what you see in this boy." He wiped the blood off of the brunet's face with surprising gentleness, but his eyes were cruel - cold, calculating.
He whipped his head towards Takeshi's direction, before walking away.
Takeshi slumped down against a nearby tree, letting the force of Hibari's words hit him full on.
"He's not Tsunayoshi anymore."