Chapter 3: And The Rain Nearly Fell…
The smile had yet to fade from the pathetic copy's face, even three days later. At random times, the copy would just burst out into a wide happy grin, and it would stay there for a ridiculous amount time before shifting into a smaller but still content smile. And it was worse whenever the stupid woman went near him. For her part, she seemed more amused than annoyed. Stupid woman, causing a problem and then being amused by it rather than fixing it. Gokudera could not help but be irritated by the two, but he stayed true to his mission and kept the copy safe, making sure to do so more obviously whenever within the tenth's view.
Part of Gokudera had grown used to that stupid smile, so when the stupid copy came in from the bathroom without it (Gokudera would have followed the copy but the stupid teacher hadn't let him) the bomber had gone an alert. Then the school's male idol and star baseball player, Yamamoto Takeshi (who was even worse with smiles than the copy) had entered with a strange heavy look on his face, and Gokudera gave the baseball idiot a good glare. The idiot was obviously the cause for the stupid copy's distress. The baseball player gave a sick grin in reply to the glare, and Gokudera took that as proof that his message had gotten across. Job done, Gokudera continued on the lookout for actual threats. He didn't care who distressed the copy as long as the copy wasn't in actual danger.
When the lunch bell rang, Gokudera slowly made his way over to the copy, trying to make the walk between his desk and the copy's as long as possible. By now, the obnoxious smile had probably returned, and the stupid woman would make it ten times worse with her presence. If it weren't for the tenth's promise of reconsidering his offer, Gokudera wouldn't go within ten feet of the two.
"…ith Yamamoto. Best tell me and get it over with," the stupid woman was saying when the bomber finally arrived. The bento that the copy had brought was already opened in front of her. Gokudera growled, as he always did, at the thought of how ridiculous it was to inconvenience the tenth's mother for that stupid woman. She didn't deserve the tenth's mother's lunches.
"I-it's n-nothing," said the copy in a pitifully weak voice. The smile had not returned, and a sad sort of thoughtful look had taken its place. "I-I j-just o-overheard s-something."
"And what is it you overheard?"
"I-I c-can't t-tell y-you," said the copy, flicking eyes nervously over to Gokudera. The stupid woman gave Gokudera a flat look before turning her attention back to the copy.
"If it's about your idiot brother, you might as well say it now. He'll be disillusioned eventually."
"I-it's n-not t-that…" said the copy. His eyes were now everywhere, making Gokudera clench his jaw. Before the bomber could comment on the copy's stupid behavior, the copy reached into his bag, took out another bento, and offered it to Gokudera. "I-I t-thought y-you m-might like o-one. Y-you n-never s-seem to eat a-anything, G-Gokudera-san."
Gokudera stared at the neatly wrapped bento. Part of him was furious at the offer, wondering exactly who the copy thought he was that Gokudera would need the stupid copy's help securing food, but part of Gokudera insisted the bomber take it and not waste the tenth's mother's work. A third part reminded him with a harsh jerk in his stomach that he had eaten nothing but cheap protein bars for four weeks.
"I don't need your help," Gokudera growled, snatching the bento out of the copy's hands, "but I won't let the tenth's mother's work go to waste."
"Tsuna, you should know better than to feed monkeys," said the stupid woman, using the tone of a scolding mother. "They are always ungrateful."
"No one asked you, stupid woman!"
"Guys!" yelled a boy running into the room. "Yamamoto's about to jump off the roof."
"W-what!" cried the few people in the classroom. The other students of 1-B were cowards and had started to eat elsewhere due to their inability to withstand Gokudera's aura. Some had even given the excuse that the intensity of Gokudera and the stupid woman's arguments had made them violently ill. Morons. The copy was able to stay near Gokudera and the stupid woman and eat with a smile, and the stupid copy was the weakest out of all of them. The rest had no excuse. Speaking of the copy, he had run out the door.
Cursing, Gokudera chased after the pipsqueak. The half-Italian knew from experience that the stupid copy was nothing if not fast. Not that the weakling had much stamina, seeing that as soon as the copy arrived to his destination, the roof this time, he collapsed.
"Y-Y-Yamamoto!" the copy gasped. "D-don't! P-p-please!"
"Dame-Tsuna?" said Yamamoto. The baseball player was on the other side of the roof's fence. Gokudera scoffed. If the idiot wanted to jump, why was he taking so long?
"P-please d-don't j-jump! The b-baseball g-gods—no, y-you haven't—why— why can't I just say—?"
"So this is how far I've fallen," said the baseball player, that sick smile back on his face. Gokudera scanned the nearby buildings for snipers and paid attention to how far the footsteps were behind them. He couldn't care less what was going on between the copy and the baseball idiot. "Even Dame-Tsuna pities me."
"I-I don't pity you!" yelled the copy. "I admire you!"
"Admire me?" said the baseball idiot, shock coloring his tone.
"Y-yes," said the copy in a stupid squeak. "Y-you're d-dedicated enough to something that y-you'd d-die f-for it. B-but n-now I d-don't know i-if I-I c-can a-admire you anymore!"
"Really," said the baseball idiot. He was obviously sucked into the copy's bizarre attempt to stop the idiot from jumping. Gokudera continued to scan the area, making sure that all the students entering the roof were indeed students of the school. The baseball idiot spoke again. "Why not?"
"B-because y-you're giving up," said the copy. "Tama—He's wrong. T-there aren't any baseball gods."
"What the heck is Dame-Tsuna going on about?" said one of the students who had just come onto the roof.
"I don't know, but it's stopping Yamamoto from jumping so hush," said one of the others.
"Can Dame-Tsuna really stop him?" said another, a girl with short hair.
"Of course not, but he might buy us time to think of something," said another girl, this one with her long hair in a bun.
"Right! So what do you think we should do?" said a girl with dyed blonde hair.
"I have an idea," said a boy with short cropped hair. Gokudera decided that their conversation was even less worth listening to than the copy and the baseball idiot's.
"W-well, if there w-were baseballs g-gods," the copy went on, "they wouldn't throw someone so dedicated to baseball away. S-so t-they're a l-lie. I-I'm s-sure the G-God t-that exists made Y-Yamamoto-san a g-good—no, a great b-baseball player for some reason, and i-if y-you kill y-yourself you won't know w-what it is. So p-please d-don't jump."
As the two idiots locked gazes, a silence fell that was nigh unbreakable. Gokudera kept an eye on the perimeter, but soon found himself shuffling under the continuing silence. The busybodies who had come up to stop the baseball idiot hadn't even dared to whisper and took quiet shallow breaths. They could not do more under the intense aura the copy was giving off as he focused on convincing the baseball player to come to the other side of the fence with willpower alone. The copy's slight Vongola heritage (only that could explain the stupid copy's suddenly strong aura) managed to keep the other idiots quiet for fifteen minutes while the baseball idiot stared back. Finally, the baseball idiot moved. Carefully, the baseball player climbed over the rusty fence (it should have snapped and rid the world of one more idiot) and set his feet firmly on the safe part of the roof. With a relieved sigh, the copy stood, breathing as hard as if he had run a marathon.
"I'm glad you're okay," said the tenth's copy, another smile on his face. Gokudera moved to the side to let the now sweaty copy go down the stairs first. The teen Mafioso intended to keep a better eye on the small smiling brunette.
"Hey, Da—Tsuna wait!" cried the baseball idiot, but Gokudera shut the door in the idiot's face. The bomber could still hear whisperings of what was being said on the other side of it though.
"Yamamoto, are you okay?"
"What were you thinking, man!"
"I can't believe Dame-Tsuna did it…."
Gokudera smirked at that comment and headed down the stairs after the disappearing brunette. It wasn't really a surprise. The copy was related to the tenth.
Hana did not like not knowing things. She hadn't followed Tsuna to wherever he had run to during lunch because he was gone before she could register that he had moved. For a boy who was pathetic at anything athletic, he sure had moments of incredible speed. She had figured the boy would return when he had finished whatever he had run off to do. And he had, with the stupid monkey following. The monkey had a smug smirk on his face, but Tsuna himself looked exhausted again, like he had the day that the stupid monkey had started acting as bodyguard. She hadn't asked what had happened to the small brunette because Tsuna had sunk into his desk and sluggishly restarted on his lunch, as if he had barely enough energy to focus on his meal. Wanting the boy to finish his lunch (he was way too skinny as it was), she decided to ask later.
Then Yamamoto, their school's supposed male idol, had entered with a large grin she had not expected on the face of someone who almost committed suicide, irking Hana further. Hana did not like the popular teen. In Hana's opinion, the baseball player was nowhere near the caliber of her female best friend and didn't deserve to be called the school's other idol. He was just another monkey, but she was somewhat glad to see that he had decided not to throw himself off the roof if only because cause a terrible tragedy to be tied to Namimori otherwise. And if that grin was anything to go by, he wouldn't be making a second attempt in the nearby future.
The problem came when she noticed the intense looks the popular monkey was throwing Tsuna. They did not resemble the glares Gokudera would give Tsuna at the slightest provocation. In fact, the looks were of wonder and interest and brought her to the conclusion that the popular monkey's decision to not jump had been heavily influenced by Tsuna. She found the whole situation strange. From what she had seen, Tsuna had never been the type to stick his nose in other people's business, mostly because the boy felt unqualified and scared to meddle. He had a good heart and good intentions, but he didn't intentionally involve himself in other's problems. And so Hana wanted to know why the boy had decided to dash off and stop Yamamoto from jumping, as if the small brunette was personally involved.
At the last bell, she made a beeline for Tsuna's seat. Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one. Yamamoto was also trying get to Tsuna, but the popular monkey was blocked by friends and fans who wanted to ask if the baseball player was alright. The stupid monkey had already taken his place beside Tsuna, but Hana had long since given up on that. Strange though, that the monkey was there before her.
"Okay, spill," she said, placing her hand firmly on his desk and refusing to let Tsuna just leave. Not that he would have, since they had tutoring lessons now, but it never hurt to be certain.
"S-spill w-what?" asked Tsuna. She was starting to know him well enough that she could safely guess that the question was more out of true confusion rather than avoidance.
"What happened on the roof?"
"What do you think, stupid woman?" said the monkey, the smug smirk returning. "Dame-Tsuna did the tenth proud and kept the baseball idiot from jumping."
"He said you could call him Tsuna, not Dame-Tsuna."
"I'll call him whatever I want, woman!"
"You won't call him a copy or Dame-Tsuna, understood? Or is that too difficult for a brainless monkey?"
"Who're you calling a monkey, wretched wench?"
"I'll call you whatever I want. It's only fair. And who in the world says 'wench' in the 21st century?"
"I'll show you who, wench!"
"G-Gokudera-san, d-don't!" said Tsuna, immediately pulling Hana away from the stupid monkey and his bluffing dynamites.
"Stay out of this, Dame-Tsuna!"
"Now, now," said a new voice, "Kurokawa's right. You shouldn't call him that. Besides I don't see anything 'dame' about him."
"Who asked you, baseball idiot?" demanded the monkey. "I don't need to be lectured by someone who nearly killed himself for a game and had to be saved by a mere copy."
"G-Gokudera-san!" exclaimed Tsuna, now standing from his seat. That strange commanding tone layered his voice. "Stop!"
Silence fell over the entire group. Hana was surprised that the room was suddenly void of all the rest of the class. Tsuna took deep breaths, as if tired out from the single word. Hana took the growingly shallower breaths as her cue to rephrase her question.
"So you saved Yamamoto from committing suicide?"
"Yep," said the popular monkey, instead of letting Tsuna answer the question. "I was going to jump, but Tsuna here said some pretty important things that snapped me out of it. My stupidity causes everyone problems."
"B-but y-you w-wouldn't have d-done i-it if—" said Tsuna, cutting himself off. He hid his eyes behind his hair.
"If your brother hadn't said those things," said the baseball star, an almost understanding in his hazel eyes. Hana could also swear that the baseball player suddenly looked a bit disappointed.
"What things? What did the tenth say?" demanded the stupid monkey, his face shifting between eagerness to something not unlike panic. Hana smiled. Maybe the time to disillusion the stupid monkey had come.
"D-doesn't matter," said Tsuna a bit too quickly. She wondered why the brunette continued to try to prolong the inevitable. He meant well, but no matter how he wished, his brother would not suddenly become a person that deserved the stupid monkey's admiration. "I-I'm s-sorry f-for w-what h-he s-said b-but….B-but I-I'm…w-well, I-I'm g-glad h-he did."
"You are?" said Yamamoto. The baseball player's eyes were whirling with confusion, wariness, and a strange sort of eagerness that matched Gokudera's earlier expression.
"Y-you n-needed t-to hear those w-words, d-didn't you?" said Tsuna.
"Yep," said the baseball player a wide grin splitting his face as the confusion and wariness disappeared leaving only the eagerness. The popular boy swung an arm around Tsuna. "Then I'm glad your brother said those things too."
"E-eh, w-why?" said Tsuna, his voice squeaking in reaction to the sudden contact.
"Because who knows how long it would have taken me to become friends with Tsuna otherwise," said Yamamoto, giving the smaller brunette a squeeze before letting him go. "So you want to walk home together? I don't have baseball practice today."
"U-um, f-friends?" asked Tsuna, his voice small and fragile. At Yamamoto's firm nod, Tsuna's lips stretched into a smile, smaller but much sweeter than the baseball player's grin. Hana decided that the baseball player wasn't as much of a monkey as she thought. "I-I w-would like to walk h-home with you, Y-Yamamoto-san, b-but I-I have to study w-with Hana-chan."
"Hey, don't call me –san, I'll feel weird," said Yamamoto. "Just call me Yamamoto or even Takeshi. No one calls me Takeshi but my old man, so it'd be nice to hear someone else use it. Oh, and if you're studying, then can I stay and study with you guys. My grades are terrible, and I need all the help I can get."
"That's not something you admit so proudly!" yelled Gokudera. "And who do you think you are inviting yourself? Dame-Tsuna pays for these lessons!"
"He's not 'dame,' stupid monkey," said Hana, losing her temper. "And if you are so intent on having only those who pay in here then go play bodyguard outside!"
"I told you I'll call him whatever I want, wench! And I am on a mission, I don't need money to be in here!"
"Mission? What mission?" asked Yamamoto.
"D-don't a-ask please," said Tsuna, cringing back into his seat. "G-Gokudera-san, I-I'll p-pay e-extra for Y-Yamamoto. H-Hana, p-please, the w-worksheets o-or R-Reborn—"
"Fine," said Hana, understanding that the worksheets bore more importance than dealing with the blockheaded monkey. She wasn't going to let him win though. "I forgot to tell you, but my friends get discounts. You only have to pay me half, and for Yamamoto you can pay one half of that price so I get paid how many fourths of the original sum?"
"Half is two fourths….and one more so…t-three?" Tsuna said.
"Exactly, I get paid three fourths of what I was getting paid," said Hana. "Did you use the fraction division method to get the answer?" Tsuna nodded. "Good. Keep practicing it."
"That's pretty awesome, Tsuna. I couldn't get that without writing it down first," said Yamamoto, a wide grin still on his face. "Can you tell me what half of that is?"
"Um…the current payment's 1,500 yen so…750 yen…and then one fourth's….375 yen…add them together and…1,125 yen…and then half again…round up…about 563 yen!" exclaimed Tsuna triumphantly, but he still locked gazes with her. She whipped out her calculator to be certain, but…
"Well looks like the trick for juggling figures in your head helped," said Hana. She put the calculator on Tsuna's desk, showing that the correct answer was 562.5, and if he rounded up then…
"I was right," said Tsuna, a disbelieving awe in his voice.
"Che," murmured the stupid monkey. "As if being able to add and divide is so amazing..."
"Wow, Tsuna. I can't do that," said Yamamoto with an appreciative whistle. He threw his arm around Tsuna again, who was much less startled that time. The baseball player nodded as if deciding upon something. "It'll definitely be worth 563 yen to study with you guys."
"What? Y-you d-don't have to do that!"
"If I want to keep my grades up enough to play baseball, I do. What'd you think, Kurokawa?"
"Sounds fine to me," said Hana, smiling herself. Yes, the baseball player was definitely not the monkey she thought he was.
A large group of unfortunate yakuza men scattered like frightened roaches at the sound of more gunshots. Most of the 58 men were unconscious and two were in critical condition. Those two had been the first victims. Reborn reloaded the rifle kept firing. The brat had pushed the hitman into a mood where Reborn could barely hold back, and those first two had suffered the consequences. Fortunately for the other victims, after the first two, Reborn had adjusted his power. The hitman had wanted to show the superiority of Vongola and vent his frustration, not kill the men. Too many dead bodies brought unwanted attention. As he finished off the last man, Reborn jumped on one of the roofs and let Leon shift into a phone.
After informing the authorities of the fairly bloodless slaughter, Reborn headed back towards the house, his anger far from quenched. The brat had lost yet another potentially irreplaceable subordinate, this time a born hitman. And not only had the born hitman been lost because of the brat, but the brat's words had nearly driven the promising teen to throw away his life. And the brat's weakling of a brother had had to be relied upon again. The weakling had managed to keep the baseball player from throwing himself off the roof, but this time there would be no way to recover the rejected teen as a subordinate for Vongola. The promising teen would never again listen to a word that the brat had to say. And intimidation would not work on the baseball player. Reborn stopped walking and glared at the leftmost window of the Sawada home. The brat would pay, but for now, another visit to his weakling brother was in order. Reborn smirked as he leapt and opened the rightmost window.
He entered the still lit room and watched as a head with wild brown hair bent over the table and a pencil scritched and scratched. The smirk sharpened, and Reborn leapt onto the table without moving a single paper.
"Ciaossu."
"R-Reborn!" the weakling spluttered, backing away from the table with wide, quivering eyes. "I-I'm n-not d-done!"
"Oh well," said Reborn, picking up the papers. "I'll just count the ones you haven't finished wrong."
"W-wait, p-please, R-Reborn," said the weakling, diving to get the papers back. Reborn yanked them away in time to prevent the weakling from touching them. "Y-Yama—T-Takeshi-kun n-needed e-extra h-help t-too, a-and—p-please!"
"Hm," hummed Reborn, giving the appearance of mulling the decision over. A light of hope entered the weakling's eyes. "No."
The weakling deflated. Reborn scanned the papers, surprised to find that the boy had gotten 88% correct. And 10% of what was wrong was unfinished.
"Not bad," said Reborn, startling the weakling who had taken to quivering beside the bed. Clear eyes stared at the hitman in wonder. "But it's still not enough to escape punishment."
"HIEEE!" screeched the weakling as he tried to run through the door. Leon shifted into a staff, and Reborn used it to trip the weakling. Time to have some fun.
