15 Years Later


Yamamoto Takeshi has been in the mafia for just over half his life, and he can't remember the Before with any level of clarity. It's all a blur of childhood and adolescence and a promising future in baseball that all went down the drain the day he climbed onto the school roof. He might as well have jumped because that's when that part of his life, that boy he used to be, died. That was where the Before ended and the After began. He doesn't regret a thing. So he tells himself.

Him, Tsuna, and Ryohei are all loitering at the scene of a multiple homicide. One of their own making this time, and Takeshi doesn't know if that makes it better or worse. There are corpses casually left lying out and he can smell them. He hears Tsuna cursing his tie from the bathroom where he went to pull himself together before heading home to Kyoko. He sighs and plasters on a smile, and surprisingly he doesn't even have to force it, despite their gruesome surroundings. After all this time he's still genuinely entertained by Tsuna's helplessness in the mundane and is always more than happy to help. He knows Tsuna doesn't want to look like he just murdered a handful of people when he gets home. Kyoko and him are trying for another baby and blood stains paired with the smell of rotting flesh doesn't exactly set the mood. A part of him wants to scream because he thinks Kyoko's being awful and selfish and a thousand other things that he'll never say out loud, least of all to Tsuna. He knows Tsuna doesn't want another kid, Nagisa is the center of his whole world, but he also knows Tsuna will do almost anything to make Kyoko happy. He thinks it's a mistake. Not that he's eager to share that opinion because it won't change a thing. He thinks the timing couldn't be much worse either. They're on the brink of a full-blown gang war and could tip over the edge at the slightest provocation. Tsuna's doing everything in his power to keep the peace, but Takeshi can feel the violence on the horizon. He doesn't know when or why, but war is coming.

"Need some help?" He nudges the door and it swings open the rest of the way with a creak.

"Yes." Takeshi laughs at the sight of the terrifying and powerful Vongola Decimo standing in front of a broken mirror, teary-eyed and with one hand tangled in his tie. It's just so very like Dame-Tsuna. He walks over and disentangles Tsuna's hand from its silky bindings and does his best to retie the damn thing properly. It's a lost cause.

"Oi! Some help in here, please!" he calls. A moment later Ryohei is squeezing himself into the dilapidated little bathroom, too.

"What's up?"

"I don't know how to do this," he says, nodding to the tie he'd still holding around Tsuna's neck. The smile hasn't faded.

"Oh, that? Its EXTREMELY simple!" he yells, and Tsuna and Takeshi both cover their ears. It's been so many years and Ryohei still hasn't managed to get the hang of his 'inside voice'. Takeshi moves as far out of the way as he can in the limited space so that Ryohei can take care of it, which translates to taking two steps back and letting the older man shuffle past him to reach Tsuna. A minute later Ryohei had somehow tied his entire arm to Tsuna's neck and Takeshi was laughing madly from the sidelines. Three grown men were packed like sardines into the too-small bathroom of an abandoned warehouse trying and failing desperately to tie a goddamned tie. Tsuna's snickering joined in and soon after that Ryohei's bellowing laughter as well. Takeshi used his blade to slice the thing off and the three agreed that ties were overrated anyway.

There was a cleanup crew on their way to the scene, Ryohei having called them prior to the whole tie fiasco, so the three went to wait outside in the open air. Takeshi, only after wiping the blood and grime from his blade, turned his cellphone back on. He could hear Ryohei talking boisterously to Hana behind him, the sound of a child crying could be heard on the other end of the line.

Thoughts of red hair and blue eyes came unbidden to his mind and he ached. The last time he'd seen her the two of them had a screaming match about work again. It was the reason they had split up in the first place. She didn't approve of his life in the underworld. She'd given him an ultimatum, and he'd chosen Famiglia over love. He'd chosen the Vongola over a life with the woman he loved and their child. Takeshi didn't think he knew how to live without it anymore. The last argument had been after he'd dropped off Daichi at her house and found out she was still digging into the Sartori famiglia. She was a journalist, and he understood it was within her nature to stick her nose where it didn't belong, but her safety was still of paramount importance to him. He'd warned her time and time again to be careful, often guiding her in the right direction or even being a source of intel himself if it would keep her out of harm's way (of course only things he had explicit permission to share with her or things that would do damage to the Vongola's enemies). She never listened. It was downright infuriating.

He still keenly remembers the sting he'd felt when she left him upon learning of his ties to the mafia, threatening to disappear with their unborn child. That was what? Five years ago now? He wasn't quite sure. At the time they'd been engaged, waist deep in wedding plans and setting up the baby's room. It felt like it had been forever since then. He thinks it might have been better that things fell to pieces when they did between them. He still loved her and understood that on some level she loved him, too, but things were better this way. She didn't have to compromise her morals so much, and Takeshi didn't have to keep his lips sealed when he got home, always weary of what he could and could not share. A marriage probably wouldn't have survived long between them. Daichi kept them in each other's lives, and that was enough.

His screen came to life and a second later it buzzed, registering text messages, probably all from Hayato, the worrywart he was. The man was trapped at home with Haru, taking a crash-course in how to care for newborns. After a minute the phone stopped buzzing and then dinged as a missed call appeared. His brow twitched in irritation; Hayato didn't have to go so far as to call him unless it was an emergency. He pulled up the text messages first, skimming through them. Unsurprisingly they were almost all from Hayato, asking how the job went, if Boss was alright, "dumb baseball idiot why aren't you responding", etc… He shook his head at the man's predictable antics and went to pull up the missed call.

Katina Rousseau.

Why had she called him? There was no way she'd be the first to apologize, she never was. Did something happen to Daichi? Or maybe she had to go out of town and needed him to take their son for a few days? She usually emailed about that sort of thing, though. She was ever so professional like that. He felt cold. His thumb hovered over the 'play message' button for several minutes, "Takeshi, you alright?"

He jolted, looking up to see Tsuna's face pulled into a worried frown. "You'll get wrinkles if you keep worrying about everyone else like that." Takeshi tried to give his friend, his brother in everything but blood, as natural a smile as he could. His heart felt heavy like stone.

"Maybe if the rest of you would stop giving me reasons to worry," he retorted. Takeshi laughed, but there was no mirth in it. Tsuna could feel as much as he could that something was wrong.

"Just a minute, I gotta check this." He waved Tsuna off and pressed the button, holding the phone up to his ear.

"Takeshi…" Her voice was a husky whisper, panic evident in her tone. "Takeshi, I need you. I-I was following a lead.. I fucked up. I'm so sorry. I fucked up so bad." His breathing was shallow, his heart beating too fast. "I think they found our house, I don't know. I think someone's in the house." There was a shuffling sound, like she was crawling across the floor and a clack like she hit the phone against tiles. She was in the kitchen then. That was the only room with tiles in the house. "Fuck-" another series of muffled sounding movements. "I'm so scared, Takeshi." She was crying. She never cried. Never, not once. Not when she found out about the mafia, not when they broke up, not when she gave birth to Daichi, not when he broke down in front of her because the world was too much. "I'm so sorry." Why was she sorry? For following the lead? For screwing up? For asking for help? She never had to be sorry for that. "Takeshi, I'm so scared. I can hear them. I think they're in the living room…" Her breath was heavy crackling over his speaker, her microphone too close to her mouth. Rookie mistake. "Oh God- there's a whole bunch of them, I-" A fumbling sound and a gasp. He couldn't hear no matter how he strained his ears. She had to have her finger over the microphone now. There were men's voices, varying in pitch and tones, but all equally unintelligible over the message. A few seconds that felt like a thousand years passed before she was whispering, even more quietly than before, more panicked, "Daichi's upstairs. Oh God, I think he's asleep." Another scuffling sound like she was moving and Takesi wanted to scream for her to stay put, but he couldn't breathe and his words would be wasted yelling at a voicemail. "Please come. Takeshi, I'm so sorry, please hurry." There was a long silence, "If not for me, please, please hurry for Daichi. He needs you. Please save him." Another long pause, another series of muffled sounds indicating movement, then quietly, almost too quiet to be heard, "I love you." The line went dead.

Ryohei was still talking loudly to Hana, but he sounded distant or distorted, like Takeshi was hearing him from underwater. This wasn't real. Tsuna was standing to the side, hands in his pockets, eyes closed, waiting. He opened them and Takeshi saw the now familiar gleam that indicated he was ready for a fight. Tsuna couldn't have heard, couldn't know, but no doubt his hyper-intuition told him enough.

"Katina." It was all he had to say, the only hint Tsuna would need to understand. He didn't even wait to see realization dawn on Tsuna's face or for Ryohei to ask what was going on and hang up. Takeshi was already moving, mounting the motorbike he'd nicked from Hayato earlier and speeding off with a screech of tires.

He didn't know how old the message was. He'd turned his phone off hours ago, and the sun had set sometime after. What time was it now? How long would it take to reach them? He blazed through red lights, dodging through traffic without a care for how dangerous it was or how angry Hayato would be if he wrecked the bike. Nothing mattered. He remembered the day Daich was born, a tiny little bundle that looked just like him. How she'd cradled him in her arms and cooed to him and how Takeshi had bawled when the baby opened his eyes to reveal they were his mother's beautiful blues. He remembered the back and forth over custody and how it would work and her pestering him for information and him telling her to stay safe, be careful, don't piss off the wrong people. He cursed under his breath when a car clipped the bike, sending him skidding off the road into a ditch. He was bleeding and something hurt, but he didn't care to figure out what it was as he climbed back onto the bike to take off again. They had to be okay. They had be alive. He remembered the day they met, how she'd tried to approach Xanxus at some blacktie affair asking questions she shouldn't even know to ask. He'd swooped in to ask her to dance before Squalo ripped her to pieces and before she could get anything substantial. He'd been his usual charming self, easily slipping into the persona of an amiable japanese gentleman who was as much out of place as she was. How their relationship had been built on little white lies on both sides, dancing around the truth. How desperately he'd loved her, still did, always would.

There was smoke in the distance. It wasn't a billowing tower of smoke, just a thin, wispy thing. Something tasted metallic in his mouth. They were fine. They had to be fine. Someone honked when he cut them off and they veered into the next lane, crashing into another car, but he didn't even turn his head to see. His grip tightened on the throttle. The sky was getting lighter. Was it morning? Time was such a strange thing. His heart dropped into his stomach as he pulled up over the hill to where their home was. Where their home had been. It wasn't there now. A charred pile of rubble replaced the modest house. He didn't stop. They were fine. They were alive. He practically jumped off the bike when he reached his destination, the poor machine barrelled into a bush a moment after he'd abandoned the steering. His eyes trailed slowly over the wreckage, picking out details. A picture frame here, an action figure there. Signs of the people who lived here. He couldn't see straight. He shook his head, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. No tears. They were fine. They were alive. He realized his sleeve had a jagged, bloody gash that went almost entirely up his arm. Must be from falling off the bike. He started moving things, pushing aside debris and lifting beams. Then he saw red. She was fine. She was alive.

He didn't even register the movement it took to get him from where he'd been to her side. Long red hair splayed out on either side of her, fell over her face, in the blood under her body. His hand reached out, cupping her cheek carefully. Then the other. He pushed hair from her face with his thumbs. There was blood spotted at the edges of her lips, her eyes closed, a bullet hole in her forehead. Something choked made its way out his throat and he flinched at the sound before realizing it had come from himself. Dead. Her skin felt strange, wrong. Dead. Her face was pale, lifeless. Dead. He bent over her body and cradled her against his chest. Dead. He didn't cry.

Golden light crept out from the horizon as Tsuna and Ryohei pulled up in the sleek black car they'd driven to the warehouse. Takeshi turned his head slowly, he felt he might break apart if he wasn't careful, "Daichi." Tsuna nodded once and turned to Ryohei. Takeshi held Katina to his body. Sometime later more sleek black cars arrived. The sun was rising now, chasing the shadows from the ruin of his home.

"Takeshi," he looked at Tsuna. He was standing several feet behind where Takeshi was still knelt on the ground, hands placed protectively on a little boy's shoulders. Tsuna was holding him in place with his firm grip. Takeshi laid the corpse down as gently as he could manage before running to the boy, wrapping his arms tightly around the child's small frame. He screamed himself hoarse against his son's shoulders as Daichi weeped against his chest. He ran his hands through black hair, rubbed his back in some pitiful attempt to soothe, held him tightly. It was all he could do. Daichi cried himself to sleep in his father's arms. Takeshi could feel Tsuna hovering behind him. "He was hiding. In the cellar. Smart kid."

Takeshi doesn't respond, and Tsuna knows it's because it doesn't matter. "Sartori."

Tsuna nods even though Takeshi can't see him, "Domino Sartori we think. They're in an alliance with the Damico Famiglia as of a dew days ago." Ah. Damico. They were a fairly new family without respect for the traditions and laws that kept order within the mafia world. They'd been moving stupidly against the Vongola for almost a year, tensions rising between the two families. Tsuna had tried for peace, was still trying. The guys they'd killed last night had been part of an integral Damico outpost. It had been intended as a warning for them to back off.

"Domino's mine. I want the kill." Domino, he knew, was the eldest son of the current Sartori boss, Amerigo Sartori. Tsuna nodded again.

"He's yours."

Ryohei drives him from the scene, "The mansion?"

Takeshi shakes his head. His room at the mansion is where he's lived for years now, but he doesn't want to go there. The thought feels wrong. His grip on his son tightens. "Hayato's house." Ryohei quirks a brow but doesn't argue. By the time they pull up to the large house the sun is high in the sky and there are birds chirping when the car door opens. Takeshi gives a stunted bow to Ryohei who in turn waves him off.

"You take care of the kid and yourself. Leave the rest to us." Takeshi tries to pull a smile, but it feels fake on his lips and falls a moment later. Ryohei slaps his back, harder than he meant to, and gestures awkwardly for Takeshi to make his way inside. He goes up the few steps that lead to the front door and only has to knock once before Hayato is pulling the door open and yanking him in.

His eyes scan up and down Takeshi's form and eventually rest on his face. "You look like shit." Takeshi laughs despite himself and the sound echoes in the empty foyer. He spots Haru hovering hesitantly at the top of the steps. She's a mess. Her hair's knotted up worse than a bird's nest and there are bags under her eyes. He looks to Hayato and realizes he doesn't look much better. Most of the man's silver hair is thrown back haphazardly into a low ponytail and he looks like he's running on caffeine, which in all fairness he probably is.

"How's the baby?"

Hayato gives him a sardonic look before smacking him upside the head. "Go upstairs and take a shower. You reak. Give Haru the brat. She'll put him to bed. I'll pull out some clean clothes. Then we can see about that injury." Takeshi nods weakly, suddenly feeling the exhaustion catching up to him. His arm hurts something awful and he notes in the back of his head that he might have a few broken bones and possibly a concussion. Probably for the better he'd come to Hayato then. Haru hurries down the steps and gingerly takes Daichi from him.

"I'll give him back once you've both got some sleep. Promise." She reassures upon noticing his reluctance to unhand the boy. He tries to answer only to realize a lump has formed in his throat rendering him mute. He nods instead and tries to swallow the lump. She carries Daichi away and Takeshi silently follows Hayato to the bathroom. He feels dirty. Pathetic. Hayato's watching him carefully, waiting for him to break. He's ready to collect the pieces when he does and Takeshi's grateful for it. It's only after he's pulled on some of Hayato's clothes and had his wounds tended to that Takeshi lets his body relax a bit.

Hayato reaches out to touch his shoulder and the gesture is as intimate and as comforting as he can be. It's also all it takes for Takeshi to unravel. The tears finally come and he buries his face in the man's chest. Hayato rubs circles into his back. It makes Takeshi feel like a child but he can't bring himself to care. He falls asleep like that, safe in the arms of his Family.


Author's Notes: Okay chapter 2! Oh gosh. So fyi the '15 years later' and the '21 years later' are both for that amount of time after the end of the series. Therefore this takes place before chapter one. Hahaha, I'm so sorry. SO Takeshi and Hayato are going somewhere in this fic, but that's a long ways off being properly expanded upon I think. Also Daichi is mixed. Katina has french/italian heritage and obv Takeshi is japanese. Anywho let me know how you like this, if you think I'm doing okay, etc... I promise I'm still writing BFF&I, I'm just writing the Todoroki POV chapter and the next chronological chapter at the same time. It's going to be another Izuku chapter, then All Might, then Todoroki, maybe I'll throw another Katsuki chapter in there, too. Time will tell. Where do you want to see this story go, though? More past? More future? Which characters do you want to see?