khr ain't mine.

Thanks for letting me know what you think of the fic. It's fun to read em :D

I wonder if you guys have noticed the little references and implications I've hidden in the chapters. Maybe, they're a bit too hidden :p. Well, that makes the story all the more fun to read or write I suppose.

Hope you have fun reading this chapter. Off we go (oᐛ)o～

Chapter 3

There's supposed to be rainbows after rain

Yamamoto Takeshi was a guy who liked the little surprises that life popped up on you. Some people treat them like lemons and scrunch up their face at its acerbity. It was easy for information to gather around him, circling around him like vultures. He had known about rumors, more like the rants, other people let out about one dame-Tsuna. It wasn't until a fateful encounter that the boy had somewhat become a part of his life; he would argue that it was sadly, purely one-sidedly on his part.

When he was walking lackadaisically behind his energetic pals, who were racing towards the next class (loser plays gopher for their lunch in their jungle of a cafeteria- one that religiously followed Hibari's belief of the survival of the strongest, he swore) he saw a small lump shuffling around the floor's noticeboard. Then the figure stood, his spiky hair standing out like a porcupine, but unlike one with its hackles raised, the other lazily walked back to class like nothing was afront. He wondered if the other had lost one of his items there.

He was a bit curious at that point. You see, Sawada Tsunayoshi, he remembered from one of his vague and fuzzy memories seemed like the school could be courting and eloping with fire and still not care. He thought that he could come in class on a reindeer wearing a mushroom cap, but the other wouldn't notice him, let alone give a f*ck. The brunette's bullies had shoved his bento box in his face, but couldn't get a raise from him. People could really change couldn't they; this was the kid that threw fit after fit in their nursery.

Curiosity killed the cat, and he waddled over to see a camera lodged in its cranny. His head jerked at his class's door, slightly appalled that the kid was trying to take panty shots. But, a morbid curiosity wondered what would come out of it, if he let things be.

He got lost in the events of the day, and only remembered the camera at the very next day. More like, he had been forced to remember it when he saw a furious Hibari Kyoya smash it under his grip. He never thought there would be a day he felt like snickering at the prefect's expense, as the senpai only noticed it when it snapped him giving a huge swing at an idiot who tried to push his luck, almost blinding him with that bright glare. He thought the guy got pissed off that the poor dude lived to tell the tale of his wrath.

When he noticed Sawada's slightly confused glance at the missing camera, he amusedly gave the other a hint.

"You might wanna bring one without a flash next time."

The other barely responded to him, but his ears quickly became red as he began to realize the fatal flaw of his plan, and made a hasty retreat to his class. Yamamoto on the other hand, had no qualms giving a bark of laughter, something he felt came more naturally to him than it had for quite a while.

The jock had to change many of his point of views in the rest of the week. Turns out, you can really take advantage of any situation, literally any. He learned this because his classmate decided the best way to use his predicament was orchestrate the chase routes that his bullies employed to take a survey of the interiors of the school. When they end up cornering him, it would be in surprisingly convenient places, like lockers, pool benches, gymnasium storage rooms, and even the biology room. When the other left the bruised guy alone, the latter would get to work standing up, pacing around and glancing all round to comprehend the viewing angle and what could be seen from that viewpoint. Hibari-senpai had no way of chasing him off for loitering this way.

Yamamoto truly respected the extent this guy would go in the name of panties. Then, it seemed like finally, the brunette decided the best place to place his next camera, at the staircase well near the rooftop. Now that he was invested in the guy's adventures, he finally realized that the dude wasn't interested those shots, he was interested on taking face snaps- given the angle that lens were placed on. It was strange, but he could understand why. The other probably couldn't ask another person to get their photo, but it was like a candid shot and the jock was slightly peeved at letting this go untouched.

To soothe his conscience, he decided to see the first victim's photo and judge whether this was a harmless hobby or not. Weirdly enough, that one was Hibari Kyoya. Feeling confused, he decided that it would be the next victim that he would put his judge cap on for. Yet, the prefect was the only one who passed that area for the day. Sawada came back and inspected the photos carefully, but seemed unsatisfied with the result. Yamamoto placed his metaphorical judge cap on his chest in condolence. It seemed like bad luck hovered around him like a mother hen. He now had to rush outta school, since they two were going to be the last ones to stay in school and the prefect hated loiterers.

The next evening, Yamamoto had to deliver sushi and saw that this kooky brunette classmate had dumped subtlety's ass and decided to take the damn photos directly. He gave the other a slight salute and wished him success in his mission and peddled along to give customers their sushi-fix.

At homeroom, Sawada came limping to class with a black eye and he had to forcibly stop himself from giggling out right at the other's predicament. But the mirth didn't fade from his eyes for the rest of the day. That day, they had art class and feeling a sense of camaraderie, he volunteered cheerfully to be the brunette's partner. He chuckled a bit and brought up his drawing pad, facing the guy, since the teach' wanted them to do human portraits for class for the umpteenth time. That old man never seemed to get tired of it.

"You should have taken the lucky target out for dinner before taking a pic. Bet they wouldn't give you a black eye for your endeavors at least."

"More like make me kiss their tonfa. I swear he tried to make us french kiss or something." the brunette grumbled, lost in gathering the materials for doing the actual drawing.

The baseball lover's eyes grew like saucer plates.

"Wait, you were trying to get a mugshot of hibari senpai?! I'm surprised he didn't try making you deep throat his tonfa for pulling that sh*t!

Why were you doing that in the first place?"

"I'm surprised elementary kids know these words in the first place-"

"Well, you haven't reached the depths of the internet, pal. And no, don't try to sidestep the question."

"I wanted to take a picture of how he looks in battle for reference purposes"

"You mean, you wanted closeup shots of carnage? I never pegged you as a fan of horror."

Then Sawada looked at him, I mean, actually looked at him. Then he looked like he returned to earth and then looked baffled, then scared, and finally tongue-tied. It was like the rapport they had going abruptly stopped and crashed. After that, no topic starter got the brunette talking. It left him a bit frustrated and he gave the brunette a cold shoulder for a week.

After that, the jock seemed to call it quits for their cold war and decided to try to fix whatever happened at that time to grow their budding friendship- only to find out that there was never one, to begin with. It was something that he had been forced to acknowledge when he saw that guy was not bothered by the cold shoulder, nor did he feel any sense of absence. It had been Yamamoto that had gotten curious, and Yamamoto who had poked his nose into the other's business.

So, he decided to focus on baseball instead, since it seemed like he could do really interesting things with them lately. But he couldn't help himself from looking at seemingly desecrate and abandoned places or blind spots that wouldn't catch people's eyes. It had, unfortunately, only been bolstered by the occasional cameras he'd spot at those locations. He couldn't stop his lips from forming an amused smile.

One time, he finally gave into temptation and picked one of them, one that the brunette had placed back into the noticeboard. It seemed that failed attempts wouldn't deter the photographer from getting his shots. It seemed to have finger marks and seemed quite old, as compared to the others in other hiding spots. This was probably the camera that the brunette carried around. With his curiosity biting him in the ass, he skipped having lunch with some friends that invited him and sat in the isolated classroom.

He booted up the camera and saw photos of Sasagawa-chan and Hana-san laughing in joy at something, another of the latter giving an almost motherly look, something of a fond resignation at the sleeping friend in front of her. There was also one with the former playfully stuffing cake in the mouth of the one bewildered Kurokawa. The next was that of Hibari-san looking at his prey with bloodlust in his eye, and the next with a closeup of a tonfa. He snickered at that one. He clicked the next button again, seeing a photo of a brown-haired woman; someone he guessed was Sawada Nana. He didn't see her much. She didn't really show up much, not even for parent-school visitations. The lady seemed to be looking over a photo with a fond, almost wistful look. That dreamy look was something he thought was inherited by his classmate.

He felt like this one was a bit too private, so he changed the photo. It was a photo of a man joyfully twirling his wife around. They both seemed to be having a whirlwind of a time. This was followed by the photo of the guy tripping over a well-tarnished floor to a paint job, after doing a coffee spit-take from his beer can. The whole shot seemed to be taken quite professionally, and he felt like the poor guy was victim to a well-rigged prank. He could call it a paint job, but it was literally wet building paint open like a Venus flytrap awaiting its next meal. Predictably the followup photo was that of a very colorful guy who seemed like he'd be saying some very colorful words when he got up from that position ( with his butt praying to the heavens above, more like ascending towards it). He chortled at that.

The next was his own photo, with him looking at the popup fly with dawning horror. That... was not one of his best moments. He clicked over to the other in haste. He was sporting a genuine smile, something that he could recognize as his own after a few blinks. He felt like his eyes were burning a bit, but he blinked a couple of times to cool them a bit. There weren't any more photos. The recess bell rang just then, and he had felt oddly refreshed. It was like, he didn't have to overexert himself to fit right in and find a place to belong... There would be people to see him for what he is. Things would be all right.

That day, Tsuna seemed pretty depressed and Yamamoto knew what had been the issue. But somehow, he couldn't find the voice to holla at him and give him back that camera.

It had taken a year since then for Yamamoto to work up the courage to approach him, and he did it because it seemed like Hibari-senpai had been catching on to the multitudes of cameras hidden in secret spots and proceeded to mercilessly decimate them. Then, as if to spite the brunette, he would collect all the pieces together, stuff them in a matryoshka doll and place it right on the brunette's desk. Tsuna seemed delighted to receive the doll, but became dismayed when he saw the remains.

Yamamoto knew that the other was interested in pose shots and expression shots from the evidence in his pocketed camera, so he offered his services to the brunette- saying that he could take the photos for the other. He knew that if it was him asking, other people might be more open to accepting their photos to be used for Tsuna's artistic endeavors or whatever. The brunette, infuriatingly, grew pale at that suggestion and rejected his proposal at the spot, without giving it any consideration.

With irritation fueling him, he cheerfully dragged the other to Namimori's beloved chairman, fully prepared to commiserate together. After all, misery loves company.

Then he gave Namimori's demon, who was fuming inside and churning his anger and preparing himself to erupt at any moment an incentive to keep those cameras. He told Hibari-senpai that he could use them as a surveillance system, thereby reducing the number of people patrolling at a single location, thereby reducing the extent of crowding in a particular location. It seemed like negotiations were a success, but Hibari-senpai still bit them to death, for formalities sakes. Tsuna was given co-owner rights since Hibari didn't want to be bothered with maintenance duty.

Things seemed fine and dandy until the makeup incident happened. When he saw some of his friends having fun at the brunette's expense, he froze a bit. He didn't know whose side to choose, since there was no middle ground. He knew that bullying plagued Tsuna, but most of the students in Namimori chose him as their bobo beatdown doll. This time the problem seemed close to Tsuna's heart and the other wouldn't be as indifferent as he showed himself to be and that was the perfect honey trap for his bullies and Yamamoto's friends.

The group was actually pretty good spirited usually and they used to hang out and mess around with each other. Not to mention, Tsuna didn't even acknowledge his presence and wanted Yamamoto out of his life. There were good memories that were present when they hung out together and if he stood up for the brunette, the latter wouldn't appreciate it and the former would feel betrayed after being forced into the role of a villain.

He now understood the implications of actually hanging out with the brunette, it would mean alienating and rejecting most of the people at school. It was because Tsuna hardly showed that he was affected by anything, even if the other had to wear long-sleeved, fully covered clothes on a daily basis to avoid exacerbating his wounds. His dad used to chastise him when he ignored his own bruises from playing, saying that they'd get infected and then he'd be at the hospital recovering from a fever.

There weren't many merits being friends with Tsuna either. His friends would shun him, or at worst bully him. They would be bitter and unwilling to let Tsuna into their posse. So it'd have to be only Tsuna and him, together until school ends or if his schoolmates accepted him or if Tsuna gets more people that are willing to be friends with him or if Tsuna can't take it anymore and goes to another town, possible restarting the cycle. He knew how selfish people can be, that many a time, friendships are built on give and take.

Was he willing to give up all the advantages given to him so freely, when Tsuna couldn't even if he struggled? What would Tsuna think if he did that? Wouldn't he have a grudge against him?

Was standing by someone's side 'til the bitter end actually friendship? What about if the other side needed everything from you to actually sustain a friendship? How was that different from raising a pet?

As he stood petrified, Sasagawa Kyoko, who wandered over to him seeing his state, noticed his unease and connected the dots. Kurokawa Hana understood what her friend was planning on doing and barged in the room, bossing the hapless fools out of the place. The two quickly brought the situation under control.

Yamamoto... decided to give the brunette some space. His mind replayed over the incident for the following days, not regularly, but when they did, they didn't let him ignore his cowardice. To get a breath of fresh air, he wandered over to the antique shop that had dolls in the window side and remembered the matryoshka doll and how it lit a bright flame in the brunette's eyes. He wandered around like a nomad in the store, not really thinking of anything until he saw the same set of shades that belonged in the makeup set that Tsuna had lost that day.

When he had gotten preoccupied in the memories of that day, he had googled what exactly the set was with the visual descriptions that had been engraved into his brain. It was apparently doll paint, that was used to repaint the faded shades on ball joint dolls and other such well made figurines. He supposed it was a hobby that the brunette was as invested as he was in baseball. And yet, he just stood there.

By the time he realized it, the makeup set was in one of his hands, receipt on the other. He couldn't leave it in school, since something that can happen once, can happen again. So, he moved to the Sawada residence and placed it on their porch.

The next day, the brunette had a bewitched expression, like as if, a fox had visited him yesterday. He supposed that he really did behave like one, so he didn't bother solving the mystery.

A couple of days later, he finally figured out what those photos were meant for, as in the quiet classroom, at recess- the brunette sat, tinkering with the matryoshka doll and changed its appearance using the photos as reference. So, in the end... they were all for his precious dolls. Yamamoto could toil away and torment his mind over their encounters, but they would never form an impression in the brunette's mind.

At the end of the day, Yamamoto ignored the muffled sobs from the classroom as the brunette was left with a broken matryoshka doll. It had been dented with something blunt, like a bat for example.

That day, Yamamoto realized why bullies hovered around the brunette like bees to honey, because- hearing those cries, there was a dark sense of satisfaction. There was no going back and the brunette would never forgive him completely for what he did; He had ruined any chance for a beautiful friendship with his very own hands. But... He existed in Tsuna's world for the very first time.

When he entered the Namimori middle school, it turned out that over the span of weeks, Tsuna's entire persona changed. He smiled with an expression that felt like it was ripped from his very own face. The brunette seemed to be aware of reality and seemed to be keen about integrating with the people.

But, he didn't have that whole spectrum of emotions, those microexpressions that could never hide the fact that for someone who seemed closed off, he was a deeply sentimental person. The brunette also seemed on keeping that dopey cheery expression and it made him rubbed him up the wrong way. It brought back the feelings of guilt and regret that crept up on him occasionally.

He couldn't pinpoint on what made him feel uneasy. The guy in front of him was Tsuna like he had his very core or soul and it had been stronger than he'd ever seen him like. But at the same time, it was like looking at a stranger.

Within weeks, Tsuna's change made people warm up to him; well not exactly. It made them less irritated with his actions and more inclined to brush off any mishaps. But it seemed like the other was new to the whole relationship thing and wasn't shy on trying to learn more to fit in; he observed their interactions tacitly.

It made sense on paper. The guy was a social recluse; more like a pariah. It makes sense that he'd struggle with the concept. This could be his middle school debut. Wasn't there terms like high school debuts or college debuts?

But the other wore the standard uniform now, and there wasn't a wound at sight. In the past years, the brunette would struggle to move normally, exertion evident on his face.

His eyes were almost marble-like or glass-like. There were slight nerve marks, but the overall look was strange.

He moved like grace had possessed his body. This was when just a month ago, the other walked with a limp and staggered and tottered around. He used to have a bad slouch, but now it seemed like he practically cat walked.

He'd never seen the guy eat anything and it wasn't like before the guy used to eat on a regular basis, but he'd look like he's starving. The bullies used to have their way with his lunch boxes, since apparently, Sawada Nana's food was just that awesome. Because of the hunger, the brunette walked dazedly, slept in class and didn't concentrate that well. This version well... was the exact opposite.

So he tried to offer a snack, an umaibo, to the brunette and claimed that he didn't really like the flavor that much. At that time both of them were carrying the class handouts to the staff room. Even if the other didn't change his expression, his words were a pitch higher than he usually was and he was completely vulnerable to these types of psychological attacks. Something told him that it wasn't because of the fact that he had entered the war for the first time, but that the other had never seen the war in the first place.

"So, who are you?"

The other backed away slightly at the hostility and tried to act like nothing was wrong. But the fact that he had tried to twist himself away to reduce damage when the old him had been indifferent outwardly- even going so far as using it in his arsenal - made Yamamoto feel like the imbued threat had been a worthy idea to undertake.

He gripped the other's elbow immediately and the strong grip exposed the ball joint underneath the delicate cloth skin. Dolls were a sensitive issue for Yamamoto. Ever since that day, he'd hated any of them with a passion. He would glare immediately at clothing store mannequins, scowl at the barbie his little cousin sister adored... it was immediate and apparent. It was also his bad habit- one that he couldn't get rid off.

But since hate and love like on the sides of the same coin, he could identify the fact that it was a doll's arm.

He briefly wondered if Tsuna's obsession peaked to such extremes that he started replacing his own body parts with those of dolls, But then he thought that using those prosthetic arms would need months of rehab which wouldn't fit in the time frame. And now that he had been suspecting it, he started to look at the body in front of him like it was actually one.

"What did you do to him?"

Sawada Tsunayoshi knew that there was no fooling him; Not anymore.

Yamamoto Takeshi entered Tsuna's room and felt like he wanted to puke. It was a doll maker's paradise and his purgatory.

The doll opened the closet, and withered lilies filled his vision and he felt like crying. It sang a ballad on what happened that night as he showed the jewelry box, filled with ash. The flowers drooped and showed that time waits for no one and will give no second chances.

Far from the house, in the antique shop, a melancholic shopkeeper conjured up a life like real illusion- it looked just like the phony that tried to take over and make things right. It was more realistic than that doll and could counter all the flaws that the doll had. But like Theseus's ship, no matter how similar to the real one, the ship was- It could not be the real thing. What was the difference between that doll and the corpse that he made?

At least, that doll had been given life right from the brunette's very fingertips- down to his soul. He would give it grace, for it had be ordained his successor.

But for Yamamoto, the doll showed him grief. For it had shown him that the brunette had placed him in his heart. He had chosen to disregard that smile of his in his camera. He will also choose to disregard his smile adopted by the doll.

His hand shot at the doll's eyes since it was the very last thing that Tsuna... no Tsunayoshi saw. These eyes would accompany him to the afterworld.

But even still, his sharp fingernails couldn't scratch those two auburn eyes out. Yamamoto released his anguish, releasing the hurt, regrets, fury and hope that he had for rebuilding and building a friendship- one that he could have cherished. He could at this moment, break the spirit of this doll by letting him know about the limits that came with being one.

This thing in front of him would never be as expressive as his master was. It was the physical manifestation of a ghost. That would mean that there was no future for it, only the past and the experiences that came from it. It hadn't the physique of a human, so it couldn't relate to pain or learn new things or eat or drink or poop or have any other expression than that of the inexperienced, blind Tsunayoshi decided for it. It couldn't grow or shrink or age. It couldn't have experiences other than the ones Tsunayoshi had in his life.

But it was Tsuna's will

And he was tired of doing injustice to his pal.

So he hugged the doll and cried into his hair.

It stood rigidly still in that position, but couldn't cry or mourn for the loss. So Yamamoto decided to mourn for his bit.

As it reached midnight, the teary jock lamented

Ahh... how I hate dolls