(A/N) And we finally hit our climax! \ouo/ After who knows how long! I will apologize again for the long gap in updating… I wonder if there'll ever be a day where I can be a good updater ;;
Probably not. But anyway. Thank you so much for your reviews, they keep me alive and kicking! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Playing baseball again was the best feeling in the world for Yamamoto. It was hard work, since he was so out of shape from his months of convalescence, but the burn of his muscles was so worth it he didn't even mind. A lot of his old habits were still in place, which he was glad for, though he had none of the strength he usually did. However, he knew it would all come back with hard exercise and patience, traits Yamamoto excelled at.
He just wished he wasn't so tired.
His stamina was gone, of course; that made sense. What didn't make sense was that he felt like he was going to fall asleep on his feet. That was a new feeling for him – no matter what kind of exercise it was, it had always left Yamamoto wide awake. It was why he ran in the morning and not in the evening.
However, the exhaustion he felt now was dense. Why was he so tired? He'd gotten plenty of sleep the night before. Could his body just be tired from his excursions with Gokudera? Did sex really use up that much energy?
Yamamoto was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't noticed Takeuchi jog up beside him.
"How you doing, Moto? Hanging in there?" A hand pounded on Yamamoto's back.
Startled, the baseball player nearly fell over. He was so tired that he almost didn't have the energy to regain his balance and swayed unsteadily as he struggled to keep up with Takeuchi's effortless pace.
"Uh, I guess so?" Yamamoto gave a shaky laugh. "I'm glad to be playing again, but I'm just so tired! It's crazy!"
Takeuchi glanced at him in concern. "Maybe you're pushing yourself too hard on your first day back. Don't want to pull anything, you know."
"I know, but I'm being careful! I don't think I'm pushing myself at all!" As if to contradict his last sentence, Yamamoto's breathing suddenly turned irregular and he had to stop his pathetically slow jog. He leaned on his knees, huffing and puffing as he tried to slow his heartbeat.
This was so weird… He hadn't been this out of breath before.
"Moto!" Takeuchi stopped by his teammate and placed a hand gently on his back. "I'm not listening to you anymore – go take a break. I'm sure coach will understand. And if he doesn't, I'll back you up.
"But—"
"Moto." Yamamoto's captain gave him a stern look as his voice turned serious, and the exhausted baseball player knew he had no choice but to give in. Takeuchi could be extremely stubborn when he wanted to be.
Feet dragging in disappointment, Yamamoto slowly made his way to the dugout. As he sat down, he didn't really feel relief; instead, he started to break into a hard sweat. When he looked up to see if the sun was high in the sky (as it felt), Yamamoto's vision swayed and he had to hold his head steady for a moment before it focused again. Fear settled into the baseball player's chest.
What was wrong with him?
After sitting for what it seemed like hours, drinking an obsessive amount of water, Yamamoto didn't feel any better. His vision still swam if he moved his head too fast, and he was developing a pounding headache. He couldn't stop sweating, but despite that, he was shivering violently. He was getting really scared – how was he injured this time? Would he really never get to play baseball again?
At some point (Yamamoto was really starting to have trouble keeping track of time now), Takeuchi came over to check on him.
"Dude you really don't look well. Are you sure you're alright?" Takeuchi was looking at him with real concern on his face. "Do you want me to call the doctor?"
Yamamoto was shivering so badly he couldn't even answer, not that he really wanted to. He didn't want to find out he had some fatal disease that would kill him in the hour, or something. Because at this point, everything was just getting worse. It seriously felt like he was going to jump out of his skin.
It was then, with that thought, that Yamamoto had an epiphany; he knew exactly what was going on. After all, he'd experienced it once before.
He was about to transform.
As he felt his skin crawl violently, Yamamoto used all of his strength to stand up from the bench and run off towards the stadium. He had to get somewhere with shelter; he couldn't let Takeuchi, or anyone else on the team, see him. He was such an idiot – he should've known that it was that time of the month again. Gokudera always kept a strict schedule on when it was time (especially now that Yamamoto had jumped on the werewolf band wagon), but Yamamoto had been so excited about baseball that he'd completely forgotten.
Now he feared for his life as he heard Takeuchi run after him.
"Moto, what the hell?! Where are you going?!"
"D-don't follow me!" What would Takeuchi do when he found out what Yamamoto had become? Would he call the men who were out to kill Gokudera? Yamamoto grit his teeth as he turned a corner and stood in the darkness of a stadium hallway. As he felt his body shift and reform, he knew he had to survive. If he didn't, Gokudera would be alone again.
He could never forgive himself if he allowed that to happen.
As Yamamoto began to lose consciousness, he had one final thought: he would live for his lover.
Gokudera paced the entire apartment, worry and anger bubbling in his chest. He was so distracted that he didn't even notice Jirou following him around, causing him to trip over the dog every time he turned around to begin his pacing again.
God he fell in love with a real idiot.
He couldn't count how many times he'd warned Yamamoto about this. On the days that they were in the mood for a serious conversation, the silver-haired werewolf would go over every little detail he could think of about the new life that his lover faced. The most important was, of course, how to keep track of the transformation cycle. Yamamoto would have to face that once a month he wouldn't be able to go out and function as a normal person.
And, of course, that was the first thing his idiot of a boyfriend forgot.
That was why he was angry. Sure, it was partially why he was worried too, but he was more concerned about what he was supposed to do now. Yamamoto would be out there all alone, and the werewolf hunters would be out there too. Gokudera would never forgive himself if his lover got killed because he was sitting around in the apartment. And not only that, but the silver-haired werewolf had already lost everything.
He couldn't lose Yamamoto too.
Gokudera halted as he felt his skin start to crawl. Jirou stopped, too, whining up at his new human friend. The werewolf looked down at the adorable puppy before he kneeled down and took the loose fur around Jirou's neck in his hands. He kissed the puppy on his nose and focused on the Akita nuzzling him as he began to shiver.
"What should I do, Jirou?" Gokudera looked deep into the dog's eyes.
Jirou just whined and licked his nose.
Sighing, Gokudera sat back on his knees and stared up at the ceiling. He hadn't left his new home since Yamamoto had found him in that alleyway what seemed like years ago. He'd been too scared to leave; he was still scared. It was too dangerous. The werewolf hunters had let him escape once; they wouldn't do it again. He didn't want to risk it. But Yamamoto had been so unbearably nice to him. He'd taken care of him, personally nurturing a complete stranger with a threatening secret to health. He'd had no obligation to, he just had. And now they were so close that Gokudera wasn't sure he'd be able to live without the other. He loved him too much to just throw him away.
It all came down to one question: did Gokudera value his life or Yamamoto more?
The werewolf's skin crawled again, more violently this time, and he knew he had to make a decision soon. He couldn't open the door in his wolf form, so if he wanted to leave, he had to choose now.
Gokudera stared at the door, fear prickling in his shifting skin. He knew what he had to do; all along, there had been no other option.
Struggling to stand in his weakened state, the werewolf slowly made his way to the door and opened it, letting the bright light from the outside world blind him for a moment. It'd really been too long since he'd gone outside; he'd forgotten what it felt like to have the sun's heat bathe his face. Once he'd adjusted, he took a step out and felt his body begin the transformation.
He had barely gotten the door closed behind him before he was a wolf and sprinting down the city streets.
Yamamoto opened his eyes to find that the world had grown taller. Everything that he remembered from his human perspective now seemed oddly disproportioned. Scents and sounds he'd never been able to pick up before pounded his senses. It was making him dizzy, and he shook his head a few times to adjust.
He was just able to find the strength to stand on his paws before he realized that there was a human in front of him.
Flinching in surprise, Yamamoto's wolf body seemed to drop instinctively into an arched crouch with his head close to the ground and his hindquarters up in the air. His lips peeled back to reveal his teeth without him even consciously thinking about it. The complete lack of control over his body worried Yamamoto, but then he suddenly remembered Gokudera's occasional wolf lessons. The wolf's natural instincts would take over at first, but the black werewolf would be able to control himself after that.
Comforted by the thought of his lover, Yamamoto already felt himself regain control of his movements and he relaxed his defensive stance as he looked up to identify the human.
What he saw, however, terrified him.
It was Takeuchi. His team captain was looking down at Yamamoto's wolf body in complete horror; he seemed to be frozen stiff from shock. The black wolf squirmed uncomfortably and he tried to dig his short claws into the cement beneath him in an effort to halt his instinct to run away. He didn't want Takeuchi to know; he didn't want him to ruin all of Gokudera's months of hiding.
He didn't want him to think he was a monster.
"Moto… What…? Is that…?"
Yamamoto never wished he could talk more than he did in that moment (well, to be fair, he didn't usually have that problem). He wanted to defend himself, or at least offer an explanation. Takeuchi had to understand…. The black werewolf didn't want to lose one of the few friends he had!
But there was nothing he could do. Nothing until he changed back, that is. If he even had that long.
Without looking back, Yamamoto sprinted away from Takeuchi. He pushed his legs as hard as he could, thankful that wolves were speedy, as he tried to get out of the stadium. He could hear Takeuchi calling after him, but he couldn't tell if his captain was following or not. He didn't stop to check.
When the black werewolf made it out of the stadium, he almost couldn't go any further. Loud noises and strong scents flooded his senses, leaving him baffled and confused. He could hear every car, ever motorcycle, could smell every sewer, every food shop. He felt panic rising in his chest as he glanced around frantically, trying to remember which was the right way to his house. Had the city always been this confusing? He tried to look for familiar landmarks but found that everything looked different at his new height. How had Gokudera kept his orientation like this?
Or, more importantly: how would he ever find his way home?
Suddenly the ground was shaking, and the loud stomps of running sounded from behind Yamamoto; he knew he had to move. Trusting his gut, just as he always did in times of crisis, the werewolf ran straight ahead and hoped that no one saw or caught him.
As he ran down the streets, he became even more disoriented and overwhelmed than when he'd just been standing still. Now all of the sounds and smells were coming at him at a speed he couldn't even hope to comprehend.
Just where in the world was he?!
Yamamoto was running himself into a frenzy, literally and figuratively. He had no idea where he was or what he was doing, and with each passing moment it seemed even more hopeless. His shoulder was starting to burn, and he could barely keep up the pace he was running at, but he was so distraught that he couldn't stop.
He eventually did stop, however, when he ran straight into someone's leg. Somehow he hadn't noticed there was a human in front of him, and the resulting collision left him collapsed and dazed on the street. He shook his head to clear it, only then daring to look up at who he'd run into.
His blood ran cold. In front of him stood none other than the Bald Suits: the werewolf hunters. As he lay there, frozen in shock, one of them looked down at a photo he held in his hand.
"Hey, this isn't the one we're after! I thought the boss said this was the last one!"
The other shook his head and reached for something in the folds of his suit. "He was, but it doesn't matter. We're to exterminate all the werewolves; it doesn't matter which one!"
Yamamoto got up and ran. He had to ignore the burn in his shoulder, the exhaustion of his limbs. If he didn't, he'd be dead, and would never be able to see or do anything again. He would leave Gokudera all alone, which he'd promised he'd never do. He wasn't a man to break promises, and he sure wouldn't now.
But what was he supposed to do? His lover hadn't gone over what to do if he ran into the hunters. Maybe they'd both hoped in blissful oblivion that it would never happen. But now it had, and the black werewolf had no other option but to run back the way he'd come. Maybe he'd run into Takeuchi, and the baseball player would have enough room in his heart to save Yamamoto.
However, Yamamoto must've taken a wrong turn somewhere, because he found himself facing a brick wall.
Doom settled in his heart as he looked frantically for a way past the wall. There had to be a way… He couldn't die here! He refused to!
But he was trapped. Only a bird could get over this wall.
Whimpering desperately, Yamamoto turned around to face his fate. He hoped he'd be able to somehow run past the Bald Suits, but he discovered that they'd trapped him in much closer than he'd thought. The black werewolf, seeing no other option, cowered against the wall as the men approached, laughing maniacally.
"You can't escape us now, beast!"
Ignoring the people screaming, Gokudera ran frantically through the streets, all of his attention focused on the faint scent of his lover. Usually he was very careful, but this time he didn't even care as he ran through packed streets and past crowds of startled people; all that mattered was that he reached Yamamoto in time. It took all of his senses strained to their max to even pick up traces of the black werewolf, what with all of the other confusing distractions of the city, so that he didn't have time or energy to focus on anything else.
He followed all the way to the baseball stadium before he lost the scent. Trying to ignore the panic rising in his chest, Gokudera paced, nose to the ground, sniffing at everything he possibly could. He knew Yamamoto had been here; he'd even stood here for a period of time. However, it was what came after that was confusing: the other werewolf obviously wasn't there anymore, but there were so many scent trails leaving from this one spot that Gokudera couldn't make heads or tails of it.
Gokudera was so engrossed in his frantic search that he nearly let a human sneak up on him. However, the human speaking caught the werewolf's attention and he whirled around to face his opponent. Hackles raised and lips back to reveal snarling teeth, Gokudera sized up his enemy. He didn't seem to be a werewolf hunter, but one could never be sure…
That is, until the werewolf actually processed what the human was saying.
"What?! There's another one?! Is everyone a wolf?!"
That made Gokudera pause. What was the human talking about?! "Another one"? Gokudera was nearly the last of his kind, so there was no way this human had seen another one, unless…
He had it. Straining his senses past where the human was standing, Gokudera could pick up the trail of his lover. It was fresh, too. How had he missed it before?
Without dwelling on any other thoughts, and completely ignoring the human, the silver werewolf sprinted after Yamamoto's trail. Pushing his legs as far as he could go, Gokudera only had one thought.
He hoped he wasn't too late.
Yamamoto smelled the gun before he actually saw it. It smelled oily and mechanical, a scent that burned uncomfortably in his nose. He had to resist the urge to sneeze. Any sudden movement could lead him to death faster.
As he scrambled back on the wall, trying to get as far away as possible, the black werewolf thought about all the things he regretted. He regretted getting injured; he regretted being unable to play baseball one last time; he regretted not calling his father in all the time that he'd been injured; he regretted not telling Gokudera he loved him before he left.
One of the Bald Suits cocked the gun at him. As Yamamoto stared death in the face, he realized that his paralyzing fear had been replaced with a cool sadness. He was sad that his life had never added up to much, that he could never protect those that mattered to him.
Closing his eyes, he awaited his fate.
He heard the gun go off, but felt nothing. At first, Yamamoto wondered if the Bald Suit had miraculously missed from such a close distance. That was before, however, the sharp tang of blood scented strongly in his nostrils. Dread building in his chest, the black werewolf opened his eyes in hope that his suspicions were wrong.
They weren't. He'd known all along; he would recognize that scent underneath the blood anywhere.
An achingly familiar silver figure stood directly in front of Yamamoto, his body nearly pressed against the black werewolf. Yamamoto felt something dripping on his paws, and he knew that it was the blood he smelled. He was so stunned that he could barely process what had just happened, even though the evidence stood just before him.
Gokudera had taken the shot. He'd come out of nowhere and stood in front of Yamamoto, right as the bullet had blazed by. And now, it was lodged in his chest area and blood was flowing from his collapsing form at an alarming rate.
Gokudera!
Yamamoto broke out of whatever trance had been holding him and lurched forward to support his sagging lover. He laid him gently on the ground, licking his ears frantically in worry. He didn't know what to do; this was much more serious than anything he'd ever faced before. Gokudera wasn't dead yet, but he wasn't conscious, and Yamamoto was terrified that the only person in the world he would ever love would be gone soon.
And it was all their fault!
Yamamoto wasn't a violent person; he didn't enjoy hurting people. However, seeing his lover's bloodied form lying motionless on the ground, the black werewolf felt a blood lust that he'd never felt in his entire life.
He wanted to kill these men.
A growl of anger and pain erupted from the black wolf's throat and he whirled around to face the werewolf hunters. In the blink of an eye, Yamamoto leaped at the man holding the gun. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, overriding the exhaustion and pain of his shoulder, and he seemed to move faster than he ever had before as he snapped his jaws at whatever he could reach. He didn't even care about his own life anymore; all he cared about was making these men pay for what they had done.
He could never forgive them.
However, despite his best efforts, Yamamoto felt himself tiring. His injury was freshly recovered, and even adrenaline wasn't strong enough to keep the pain at bay. He had torn flesh wounds on both men, but it wasn't enough to bring either of them down. At this rate, they would get Yamamoto too.
At least they weren't paying attention to Gokudera anymore. Even as the other Bald Suit pulled out a gun of his own, he was solely pointing it at the black werewolf. Yamamoto panted heavily as he braced himself to jump in and fight again. Maybe if they assumed the silver werewolf was dead they wouldn't stop to make sure and maybe Gokudera could miraculously recover from his wound.
Yamamoto just had to keep them distracted.
He darted between the two men, hoping it would prevent them from shooting the guns in fear of hitting one another. He kept his ground, swiveling his head left and right to take turns biting each man. The plan was working, but he didn't know how much longer he could keep up…
It was then that Yamamoto's leg collapsed. His shoulder was screaming in pain; he couldn't even move it anymore. He toppled sideways, his brain shutting down in fear as he saw the men grin maliciously.
They knew they had won.
Suddenly a shape exploded from the entrance to the alleyway, knocking one man completely over. As the other hunter looked in shock at where his friend had been standing, Yamamoto lifted his head to glance at his savior.
What he saw didn't even seem possible. A wolf, a brown one, was pinning the fallen Bald Suit to the ground, teeth bared in the man's face. The man screamed in fright before he was silenced by the new wolf, who sunk its teeth deep into the man's neck with no hesitation. Though Yamamoto hated these men, he couldn't help but be horrified as he watched the man's life seep away. The way that the body went still as the blood slowly pooled out of the neck wound terrified Yamamoto. He couldn't help but wonder if anyone truly deserved to die that way.
"You!" The remaining Bald Suit's scream snapped Yamamoto out of his thoughts. The man was pointing his gun wildly at the brown wolf, his hand shaking so badly that it was unlikely a shot would actually hit anything. The brown wolf stared him down, blood dripping from its muzzle.
The pain in the black wolf's shoulder had lessened. Acting on instinct alone, Yamamoto used his newfound strength to leap forward and snap his jaws deep into the remaining man's leg. The man screamed and collapsed, hugging his injured leg to his body. He dropped the gun.
Just as Yamamoto thought it was over, the brown wolf darted off the dead body and bit the unsuspecting man in the neck. The black wolf stared in shock as the man met his partner's fate, crumpling backwards as his life force ebbed out of them.
The brown wolf bowed his head before walking over to Yamamoto. They stared at each other for a while before the black wolf looked away. He couldn't stare into the hardness in the other's eyes that made him want to sob uncontrollably; it was a look of such intense sadness and pain.
I'm sorry. But it had to be done. The brown wolf's voice shook with regret, but Yamamoto could somehow sense that it wasn't because of the murders he'd just committed.
Unable to respond, Yamamoto just stared at the brown wolf. The newcomer held his gaze a little longer before he turned to walk towards Gokudera's motionless form. For a moment, terror seized Yamamoto's chest – what would the brown wolf do to his lover?!
It was then, however, that Yamamoto noticed that the wolf was lowering his head to press his nose against Gokudera's forehead. The silver wolf, barely conscious, lifted his head to look at the brown wolf. His expression morphed into one of complete shock.
Tsuna…?!
Yamamoto's breath caught.
Tsuna?! Gokudera's alpha?! But wasn't he dead?!
