They stood on the roof of their home, both of their gazes turned towards the direction the clouds were rolling in; the sky was a frightening bruise of purple, black, and – if one could see through the storm – blue.
Lightening tore through the sky and thunder groaned its mighty roar; and yet the night was dry.
Yamamoto, apparently, was a little behind schedule. And, judging by how the storm raged and how its rage seemed to grow, Gokudera was very displeased.
The personifications of storm and thunder were located in the house they sat upon, Gokudera most likely glaring out the window as he waited for the rain's appearance and Lambo probably occupying Reborn's bedroom, laughing off the young hitman's glare.
That, or he was subtly trying to escape Verde's obsessed attempts to research and/or dissect him.
The woman and teenage male atop the house continued their prolonged staring, completely at peace with themselves and the world around them. They wore matching outfits, complete with long-sleeved red tunics, white Hanfu slacks, and black slippers.
Even in appearance, the two were alike; both had apricot skin and amber (nearly black) eyes, raven-wing black hair stretching down theirs backs – though the boy had his contained in a tidy braid inching between his shoulder blades while the woman's remained unbridled and yet smooth to the small of her back. Tranquility and harmony were reflected in both gazes.
"I am… sanguine…" The woman softly disrupted the silence.
The boy looked to her, feeling that that was not all she wished to say.
"I am remembering happy memories."
"Aaah…" The teen smiled warmly. "May I ask what memories you are remembering, mistress?"
There was a pause. "Bringing you home." She smiled softly, eyes sliding shut. "That was a very happy day."
He flushed, even as he smiled just as softly as she. "I believe so, too."
He remembered that day with clarity; it hadn't begun so extravagant, actually. It had begun with pain and anger.
A gang, who had felt snubbed by his change of attitude, had cornered him. Of course, since he refused to fight because he hadn't wanted his mistress to see him bully a bunch of thugs, he had been beaten and left bleeding. That had been only two weeks after meeting his mistress.
He had been lying there, certain he was going to die… and he had felt at peace. He had felt that it was worth it, all because he had gotten to meet his mistress at least once.
Strangely enough, a golden man had appeared from nowhere, gunmetal grey eyes glinting in a way that had made him believe the man was going to kill him. Instead, he had healed him and in the next moment, he had been in a home with a child and another teenager as well as an oblivious caretaker.
He would later learn that the 'golden man' was really Ryohei – the personification of the sun. And that Ryohei and his mistress were close friends who often liked to spar together. Of course, Ryohei had been unable to ignore his pain.
"I am happy that we can be like this now," she hummed. When serpentine movements, she slid closer to him. Under his awed gaze, she reached out and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, bringing his head to the cradle of her shoulder.
"Mistress?"
"Would you be my son?"
He gaped, lights and fireworks exploding behind his eyes as he heard beautiful, beautiful words that could not be true. "Mistress?" He whispered, hardly able to believe.
"I know, it is strange to take such a dominant role in the life of a child…" She even seemed a bit perturbed by it. "You see, it is usually the males that raise the offspring… I suppose, though, seeing as I am the last of my kind, that I can swish up a bit my role."
"Switch," he mumbled distractedly. His mistress did that sometimes, confusing words and sayings. But, for the moment, he could hardly even care.
His ethereal dragon mistress wanted him as a son.
In the house below, Aria was heard laughing at Skull's expense as the purple-haired teen failed at his video game. Colonello invaded Reborn's room and could be heard talking to Lambo while completely ignoring the trained hitman.
He bowed his head, dark eyes glistening. "I would be honored to be your son, Mistress…" he rethought that, "mother."
She rested her head atop his and nuzzled him closer to her body which was strangely and yet not curiously hard, warmth coming off of her in proverbial waves. "Son," she tested the word out gently, hesitantly, and then smiled into his hair. "My son."
He let himself relax because this was – this was like a fairytale to him, the one where everyone lives happily ever after which never could have happened where he had once been. It's the one focused all around family instead of romance, but he liked it that way.
He loved it; his family of Elements, rejects, orphans, and fighters. And his dragon mother.
Suddenly, his life was perfect.
Author's Note: Goodness, it's been a very long time since I last updated this story, hasn't it? Sorry for that; I tried to get back to this story, but it was writer's block for this plot. And then, today, I sat down and I finished it! Though, maybe, not as well as I had originally wanted… Touching nonetheless, isn't it?