A/N: I'm sorry to have left you with half a lemon in the first chapter ): -shot- but I promise future citrusy scenes between Gokudera and Yamamoto *forgive me if it ever seems a little disconnected. I am only fifteen, so I'm not exactly experienced but I'll do my best :D –aww shucks, now I feel embarrassed XD-*

Just a note, my skills in fighting scenes are atrocious *shot again by both Gokudera and Hibari* I know it lacks a little chutzpah but bear with me…there will be quite a few more fighting scenes, and lemon scenes ;D *save me please…I can't do fights T.T* Ugh, I wonder when the angst will begin to settle in XD *Emo at heart is what I am :)*

Chapter Two – Unknown Soldier

"I never thought I'd feel this

Guilty and I'm broken inside

Livin' with myself nothing but lies"

-Three Days Grace – World So Cold

His heels dug into the mattress desperately... even the cotton sheets were too slippery to give him any sort of grip. His head seized up in pain when it knocked itself against the headboard. His vision blurred for a moment before refocusing. The graze meant little compared to what he was enduring.

His attempts to hold his tongue, to not let his scream rip itself out of his ribcage, burned in his chest, a beast clawing through his ribs to get out.

Agony - It was cold, which seemed to suit the word perfectly. It washed over him like a blizzard of numbness, chilling his skin and hardening his core.

There was a crushing sense of disgrace - For both himself and his family's name.

Countless unwanted emotions swarmed in his muscles, coursed through his veins, pulsed in his temples, reminding him of his utter despair and inability to escape from this hell he had been forced into.

No, you weren't forced. You were just too stupid to know that the world isn't as pretty as it seems.

The thought had a bite to it, but he knew it was right. He had gotten himself into this because of his own stupidity. It was his own fault, so his pain to endure.

Blood ran down his numb arms from his shackled wrists but he couldn't break the cuffs. Strong hands dug into his shoulders, pinning him down, straining his already mangled wrists.

A moan... no, a whimper…was it his own? Was that hoarse, frightened mockery of a sound really his voice? So much for control.

There was a rhythmic, stiff, brutal movement given to him by the heavy body on top of him, robbing all thoughts from him. The gnawing scream escaped in a gush from his raw, tortured lungs.

There was nothing financial to gain from this torture. Surely no fame or triumph could be gained from an act such as this. There was no lack of control here like there would be if under the pressure of a bet, there was no loss of composure, just deliberate, excruciating sadism and the glory of being in command of someone weaker.

The sound of someone sobbing in the darkly lit room echoed around him, distorted in a way that he couldn't understand if it was coming from him.

A far away scream –

Images of his mother's mangled body and her modest, white coffin buried with such secrecy it was a wonder the world didn't hold its breath as she swallowed by the earth.

With no protection he had become easy prey to the vultures of this world. He had become one of the weak, pathetic creatures you knew wouldn't survive throughout the winter, a lone cub in the desert planes – easy pickings if you were frank about the matter.

Another cry that echoed around him, reverberating in his ears – From what he could see – shifting his focus from the disgusting sight before him – there wasn't anyone else his own age or younger in the room to make such a sound.

No...It couldn't be…he couldn't possibly have it in him to make that pitiful, broken sound. To sound so powerless and weak, it nearly hurt more than his body as it was abused.

He convulsed at the hot breath on his neck.

No. Enough is enough. Dreams are all they are – this is too vivid to be a dream, or even a nightmare.

He tried to backpedal away from the putrid room and its rotting memories that clung to it, but there wasn't any grip below his feet, and instead all he managed to achieve was a sudden freefall.

The screams escalated, burning his skin. He covered his ears and curled inwards. The sounds were harsh and nearly inhuman in their intensity, clawing at his skull and the sensitive parts of his brain.

He felt his lungs struggle to take in oxygen, aching in the process. This was worse than suffocation. He both felt the pressure that came with drowning, that overwhelming sense of despair that rode along with it, the panic when you no longer knew where the surface was, clawing at your stomach till it was raw and then there was that scorched feeling that seemed to be filling his lungs. Any cry he would try to make was engulfed by his oxygen starved lungs.

No matter how hard he tried to flee, to move in any way, he just twitched before shuddering. His hands were numb, legs immobile.

The sense of falling stopped abruptly, and when he turned to look, he threw his numb hands over his eyes, buckling at the horrid images.

The boy on the bed had stopped struggling now, accepting the cruelty that would soon be given to him. He was still screaming in pain, but it was those eyes that frightened him the most. They were empty – void of all life, barely a shadow of the soul he knew he had managed to regain.

How had he come back from this? How had he clawed his way back to reality when this had happened? What kind of will had he possessed?

The scene darkened suddenly, and he was plunged back into the labyrinth that had become his dream world. There was an onslaught of whimpering that somehow managing to be even more disturbing than the screams from the bed scene.

He came across a make-shift window – one that you would find in any ordinary home. Its panes were white, contrast to the blacked out glass. The glass reverberated with each howl that boomed from behind it. Beside the window was a door, an enormous oak one. Almost every inch of it was chained, seeming impenetrable, but the lock on it was rusty, old, and near breaking.

The sounds from the other side were becoming louder, digging into him deeper. Fire was racing through him again, scorching his veins.

He threw himself at the door, grunting at its heaviness. The wood shook as the person on the other side tried to force it open. The chains rattled, looking much weaker than they had before.

No, it can't open up, he pleaded. I locked away so I could move on. I did not ask to remember it this vividly! Leave me alone – l shouldn't have to endure this!

His body was still burning, hungry. Why hungry though? Was he actually thirsting for what was on the other side? Had he really become a sadist? Or just some savage of a human being?

A fire tore into him suddenly, making his head swim among the flames.

The flames danced around him, mesmerizing, devouring his skin, eating away at all he was, body as well as the empty space that made him what he was. 'Soul' didn't seem to fit quite perfectly, but it was as close as he could come. He welcomed the pain, relaying it to his various accidents when practising with his dynamite.

He fell back into the embrace of the blaze in relief, letting it carry him in its fiery currents, away from the window and its chained door. It swept him away like a hot breeze in the summer and he felt his body relax.

Burn... burn... burn it all away... leave nothing behind...burn so much of my existence that I cease to be what I am. Scorch time…let it be so that I'm frozen, kept in a limbo, held away from the future, but hidden from the past.

Just as he felt his wish begin to slowly fulfil itself, he felt a lurch and was shot away from the flames in the direction of an equally bright light. A beacon.

Gokudera awoke with a small, strangled cry. His skin was searing hot and his sheets were tangled lightly around his legs, duvet discarded most probably on the floor.

His body was jerking, flooded with the remnants of those seductive flames.

He sucked his breath in, unable to breathe properly for a moment as the muddled, intense release of cold reality bit through his warm sleep-encased body, worse than being thrown into an icy lake. The sudden awareness was on a par with the rough jolts that dragged him from his sleep. His eyes snapped open.

What the hell...?

Somebody was shaking him roughly. He looked up into a pair of luminous amber eyes peering down at him, cloaked in concern.

Gokudera struggled to turn away, wanting to shake off the strange body with its strong grip.

He started when he felt a warm body close to his on the bed. Scorching white hot panic speared through the Storm Guardian. He recoiled as much as he could into the wall, struggling to untangle himself. His efforts were wasted though, his legs were locked up in the sheets and with... someone else's legs.

"Whoa, whoa, hey... it's me... relax, you're just dreaming, Hayato..." a soft, sleepy yet slowly sharpening, familiar voice penetrated through Gokudera's trembling haze of panic.

Oh so slowly, he began to thoroughly inspect the body by his side and smacked himself internally. He'd actually considered Yamamoto to be one of those lower than scum that had been locked away in his own memories.

He was more broken than he thought – strange that he hadn't pierced through Yamamoto yet, what with all the jagged edges that seemed to have made up what Gokudera had become.

Yamamoto was lying beside him, resting up on one elbow now as he rubbed his eyes. His other arm was still clutching Gokudera's, but with less urgency.

The swordsman's tousled black hair was wildly mussed from the pillow and sticking up at endearing angles. His amber eyes were a little questioning. Usually if Gokudera was waking up from a nightmare, he tried to attack Yamamoto. But this time Gokudera had tried to pull away from him. Was this an improvement? Or just a different kind of dream? Yamamoto wasn't sure and his sleepy brain wasn't really processing at its swiftest.

"Y'alright?" He yawned the question, "Y'were tossin' and-" another yawn, "makin' strange sounds..."

Gokudera felt the icy depths of his gut melt under the Rain Guardian's calm aura, how his eyes were clouded only by concern and the remnants of whatever dreams he had been having.

So unlike the eyes that he had had to endure in his childhood – eyes that always held an alternative motive. Such clarity was always a welcome relief for the Italian and he sank gratefully into Yamamoto, relishing in his warm, comforting scent.

Yamamoto smiled at his lover adoringly, a rare sight, even for the easy going teen. His hand on Gokudera's arm slid up to brush the bomber's strangely flushed cheek.

"Sure you're alright?" he mumbled, coaxing his own body to make that last step to finally wake up entirely.

Gokudera closed his eyes, trying to slow his wild breathing and heart.

"Not... really...just a fucked up dream..." he murmured softly, his voice a bit husky from sleep. He instantly regretted it. He didn't want to pique Yamamoto's curiosity or make him think anything was wrong. He reasoned it with how everyone had wacky dreams every once in a while, but with the stunt he had pulled earlier, Gokudera was fully aware of what Yamamoto would think of his dreams.

Gokudera couldn't speak about this dream with anyone, especially Yamamoto... heck, he didn't even feel confident in confiding in himself, much less another person.

With conscious effort, Gokudera's tense body relaxed and he rolled onto his side, facing Yamamoto. He begged with his eyes for the swordsman to just keep his mouth shut and not ask any intrusive questions.

To Gokudera's mercy, Yamamoto wasn't in the most perceptive of states and instead only just managed to wriggle his way out of bed – how they'd come to sleep in the same bed was beyond Gokudera, though it wasn't unusual – without stumbling.

"I didn't shake you awake for nothin' you know," Yamamoto flashed him his easy grin, running a hand through his hair while drinking in the delightful scene before him. If it wasn't so late, he wouldn't be able to resist diving back into that bed, especially if Gokudera was there. Instead, he began to forage for scraps of his uniform, yawning all the while.

Now it was Gokudera's turn to prop himself up on one elbow. He enjoyed watching the Rain Guardian saunter around in only his boxers, marvelling at his sculpted figure and rippling muscles under his creamy skin. His tense muscles relaxed gratefully, eager to push away the looming darkness and instead focus on this tempting beacon of light.

If only he could untangle himself from these sheets to claim that boy. How easy it would be. He could feel the ghost of Yamamoto's lips on his own and couldn't resist the flush that coloured his cheeks and ears. He ruffled his own silver hair and slowly lay back down, too worn out to try and crawl out of bed.

"Oi, c'mon Hayato," Yamamoto called as he opened up the door to their own shower room, just across the hall to their room.

Gokudera graced him with an irritated groan and rolled over, letting his mind wander for a few moments.

Since Tsuna had been given a hefty wad of cash – or as Reborn liked to put it 'had inherited a considerate fortune' which were big words for an infant – they had bought a second house, around the same size as Tsuna's, so as not be too conspicuous. Reborn had initiated all of this of course. This house was supposedly a back-up dare anything happen to Tsuna's house. It was known as 'Haven' though Haru had swooned over the name 'Sanctuary'. All had agreed the term was a little too religious and cheesy for their liking. So 'Haven' it was.

It housed only three tenants – Bianchi, whose previous housing remained unknown, a fact Gokudera never liked to dwell to long on – and then there was Gokudera himself along with Yamamoto. Since his father had passed away, barely after he had taught his son the art of the Shigure Souen style. It had taken a heavy toll on Yamamoto, but he had learnt from the loss and come to treasure his life like it was a precious jewel. It was a skill Gokudera envied him for possessing.

Bianchi had become aware of their relationship fairly quickly and it nearly embarrassed the two of them to think their affection for each other was so obvious. Expecting a lecture, Bianchi instead gave them her blessing, leaving them instead with the harsh warning though that is they became too rowdy, she would make sure she made a spectacle of it and pack up to go and live with Tsuna. Such wouldn't be the case though. The house was arranged in a way that it was in quarters of a sort, so it would take both a broken bomb and one of Gokudera's cherry bombs to even alert Bianchi of their presence.

The house was barely two streets away from Tsuna's, so like last night when Yamamoto was late from baseball training, Gokudera would often pop around to Tsuna's for dinner. He was always greeted with welcoming arms, with a warm atmosphere he craved for. Though he did have Bianchi, Gokudera couldn't help but feel, especially as he heard the shower hum to life across the hall. He had to admit, considering they did have two rooms in their quarters fit to be bedrooms, the two had settled for sharing one and merging the other into their own personal common room, saving the one downstairs as a communal living area.

Even with two beds, there was still plenty of space for two desks, two identical wardrobes, an enormous bookshelf, a coffee table and couch. Even with all the furnishing, there was still plenty of space to manoeuvre. All in all, not a bad space for the two of them. They'd made it their own and Gokudera felt most at peace in this room, glad to not have to sleep in a room that had been decorated and set in mind for some anonymous tenant.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he heard Yamamoto call out to him to hurry up. Only then did he pay attention to the time displayed on his clock.

"Shit!" Gokudera swore, leaping out of bed and charging into the shower room where he heard Yamamoto laughing at his outburst.

"Shut up you baseball nut," he snapped but there was less bite in it than usual, and instead he busied himself with washing his body, splashing a good dollop of shampoo over his hair.

"Listen," Yamamoto asked above the hiss of the shower, "You sorta just collapsed. I was wondering-"

Gokudera flushed, glad the water was hot, "I'm fine. Don't worry. I was just stressed is all."

Yamamoto sensed the Storm Guardian didn't want to discuss it any further and left him to it, but his unanswered questions continued to bother him. Another time, He consoled himself while he washed beside his lover, when he isn't so distracted I'll get him to tell me.

The two emerged barely five minutes later, both slightly disappointed their incident in the shower hadn't led onto anything too erotic but were too focused on the time they were wasting.

Both flew out of the door at a gale speed, racing each other to Namimori high.

Please, they thought unanimously,

please may Hibari be sick or something today. Please!

The two boys practically fell over each other as they made it to Namimori high bare moments before the mocking dull tone of the morning bell chimed.

Yamamoto leant against Gokudera's shoulder dramatically, breathing heavily, "Oh yeah, new world record."

Gokudera sighed, "Tch, only you would think of making a world record out of something like us running to school."

Yamamoto laughed bashfully, clonking him on the shoulder as he made his way towards the school doors, weaving through the throng of students with ease, "But that's what makes it all the more fun."

Just as Yamamoto had disappeared through the crowd of students that were cramming their way through the halls, Gokudera felt his prior enthusiasm leak out of him. Sure, he loved Yamamoto's enthusiasm when it came to school and all that, but with his marks, he was pretty certain he could bunk off without getting into too much trouble.

Making a dash for it, he lithely threw himself around a corner and waited for the mass of students to filter away into their classes before making a dash for the exit. He wouldn't leave the grounds so much as just go and sit by a tree by the baseball court or something. There were dozens of secluded spots at Namimori high, some of which Gokudera thought even Hibari wouldn't know of.

He set off for the one just off the baseball field, keeping as low a profile as was possible, relishing in the calm release he felt when he took a drag on his near constant supply of cigarettes. It had become a habit since he had escaped from…it didn't matter how it had started, but it seemed to have become handy when it came to a fight that involved his dynamite.

Once settled under one of the grand oaks by the field, and content that he was out of eyesight, Gokudera was about to let his mind wander for the next two hours before making another attempt at classes before his calm environment was crudely broken.

By a certain irritating, carnivorous prefect.

"Unless you're deaf, I'm rather certain you heard the school bell go off for class Gokudera Hayato," The matter-of-fact tone Hibari had irked Gokudera and all he could do to contain his anger was pinch his nose and glare at the prefect. Thank God, his tonfa's were gone, but heaven knew where he kept them stowed. He shuddered at the thought.

"And unless you're blind, I'm bunking," The Bomber had always felt the most satisfaction through taunting the prefect, enjoying the way his left eye would twitch at his snarky remarks.

"I suggest you make your way to class. If you don't comply, I will bite you to death." Within a flash, his tonfa's were out, poised, gleaming in the sunlight.

Gokudera got to his feet slowly, baring his teeth in his trade-mark snarl. He brought out six sticks of dynamite and was ready to light then with his cigarette at any given moment. He could feel eight cherry bombs latched on to both his thick belt and hidden in his trousers, as insurance if the fight got serious.

"Bring it bird lover," He goaded.

He relished in the twitch of Hibari's left eye as he lunged for Gokudera, tonfa's swinging expertly. Weapon-wise they were near faultless, except for one flaw. They were practically useless if your opponent was behind you. Yes, they could be thrown backwards, but there was only so much distance they could travel.

Gokudera side-stepped out of the way, the tonfa's whooshing right by where his body had been merely moments ago. He was eager to rid himself of the tension that had built up throughout the night and threw himself into the fight with more enthusiasm than he expected.

I'm gonna beat you this time Hibari. This time I won't lose. Your ass is mine.

Barely four and a half minutes in and Gokudera was on his knees, face bloodied and sore. His knees felt weak and boneless, void of any of the strength they had had when the fight had begun.

Hibari, of course, stood as proud as an alpha male, gazing down cruelly at the weaker wolf. There were a few torn down trees from their fight and it infuriated Gokudera to know that every perfectly aimed bomb Hibari had managed to dodge.

"I have no interest in fighting you any longer. You either get up and go to class or leave for the day. The choice is yours now that you have a reason for missing class. Herbivores like yourself don't deserve my attention."

His tone was mocking in its own patronising way and Gokudera felt his expression darken angrily because of it. The bastard - His only reason for even engaging with him had been so that he would then be able to leave school for the day with a reason. His best guess was that Hibari refused to have bunkers on his flawless record. Beaten up bunkers at least had an excuse for leaving school, but those who just skived, that was a no-no.

The bomber rose to his feet unsteadily, spitting blood onto the ground to his right. He fixed the prefect with as furious a glare as he could muster and stormed off towards the school gates, not caring whether he was seen or not. He swore, lest he ever saw that son of a bitch again, he would bomb his ass off.

While in class, Yamamoto busied himself with tuning out to the teacher and instead focused on an all too recognisable figure sauntering out of the school grounds, a dark figure stalking behind him, seeing him out.

Oh Gokudera, Yamamoto sighed internally, what did you get yourself into this time?

Having spent most of the day meandering around the school's perimeter, only leaving for lunch or when he got bored of the accusing stares of locals, did Gokudera actually just decide to make his way home. He had grown bored of waiting around for both Yamamoto and even though he would have waited days for the tenth, he felt too humiliated to face anyone right now.

He walked past all the local stores mindlessly, wishing there was a more direct route home that didn't require passing through such a populated area. He glared at whoever dared speak a word about his appearance and stalked onwards, head down, cigarette clenched between his teeth.

All of a sudden, slicing through the calm mundane atmosphere, Gokudera heard somebody scream.

It was high-pitched but with enough of an underlying tone to be male.

And of course, it was the Tenth's. Only Tsuna had that kind of scream

Gokudera charged towards it at full pelt, his thoughts no longer focused on what the locals thought – fuck that, his boss was in trouble!

Except, this had happened before. He had heard a similar kind of scream before from the tenth and had rushed to his aid only to find him clothed only in boxers in front of Kyoko, Reborn having shot him with the dying-will bullet. Poor Tenth – though effective, Reborn's methods were cruel at the best of times.

As he rounded a corner, Gokudera was glad he had gone on his instincts, an underwear scene or not.

Tsuna was cornered by a bookstore, obviously on his way home. He didn't appear cornered, especially when the person in question looked like nothing more than an ordinary high school nerd – glasses, beanie, crappy hairstyle and all. It was that killer intent he had grown to sense that triggered Gokudera's assassin instinct.

He kept a low profile though, acting as if there was nothing bothering him though. He noticed that it had been a bee in front of his face that had gotten Tsuna's attention and claimed his vocal chords – how typical – but it didn't matter. It seemed that his hyper intuition only worked when in dying-will mode and Gokudera seized the opportunity to save his boss, no matter how ignorant he was.

"Yo, Tsuna!" He called out using the Tenth's first name, a rarity but called for in this situation. Knowing the creepy nerd guy, he would be a part of the mafia, especially with that killer instinct of his. The safest bet would be to act indifferent and to under no circumstances call him 'tenth'. If he alerted anyone of Tsuna's social ranking amongst the mafia, it could spell disaster.

Tsuna whipped his head around to Gokudera, an awkward smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

The beanie guy pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose as Gokudera swung his arm around Tsuna's shoulders, ready to ignore the nerdy guys total existence and usher the Tenth away discreetly.

"Gokudera Hayato," The beanie clad guy spoke, his voice low and matter-of-fact, "Kokuyou High, 2nd year, Kakimoto Chikusa."

Gokudera was stumped, then realised the guy had just introduced himself. Using his already established bad boy attitude, he scowled, feigning annoyance, "What'dya want four eyes?"

Tsuna froze, more aware of the tension building in Gokudera's grip on his shoulder more than the murderous intent that oozed from Kakimoto Chikusa.

"I came here to break you."

His eyes were blank, void of any malice and Gokudera couldn't help but notice the barcode tattoo on his right cheek. Damn, these thugs just got freakier by the day.

"Sheesh, what's going on these days with my luck? Why do I keep on getting involved with gangsters from other schools?" He looked to Tsuna and grinned as if nothing was wrong, "Do I really look that thuggish?"

Not waiting for Tsuna's reply he waved as the high school student dismissively, "Sorry dude, wrong guy. I don't get into fights."

"So you are a coward then?"

He felt his composure splinter under that insult and his grip on Tsuna's shoulder loosen. By now, Tsuna had caught on to the issue at hand and was ready to legit. He secretly begged Gokudera would just let it go, let his pride take a hit for once in his life and let them leave.

But then again, both he and Yamamoto knew how stubborn the Italian was.

"All right then, you've asked for it. It is my principle to never refuse a fight when invited."

Kakimoto Chikusa didn't react facially in any way, "You suddenly change your tact…peculiar. I do warn you, this is no joke."

As if to prove his seriousness, his arm blurred, moving so fast you couldn't track its movement. Within moments, the two men who had been taunting their small gathering with the promise of a fight breaking out fell silent.

Gokudera let his eyes flit over to the two men and his eyes widened at the sight.

Their foreheads were littered with pins that oozed blood. The two men collapsed instantaneously, unmoving. Now his scowl was for real.

"Get back Tsuna," Gokudera warned, still wary of calling him 'Tenth'. He didn't know what this Kakimoto Chikusa guy wanted, but he wanted to keep Tenth as out of it as he could.

"Stop hesitating already. This is troublesome enough."

With the flash of an arm, the guy had thrown whatever weapon he was using in Gokudera's direction. Tsuna had already taken refuge on the opposite end of the street, watching with worried eyes.

Gokudera swerved around the attack, but barely. He felt a searing jolt of hot pain slash across his cheek and the warm trickle of blood as it trailed down his cheek.

"Shit," he muttered, "You're gonna be such a pain in my ass."

Walking towards the guy nonchalantly, he feigned ignorance before turning on his heel and charging away in the opposite direction.

He heard the guy hurry after him, then imagined the all too sweet sound of simultaneous explosions in the space he had just occupied. It had been a technique he had come up with as a child. You act as though you've got nothing when in fact you've moved so fast that you've already got a dozen sticks of dynamite up above you. You then turn tail and run as fast as you can so the enemy can take your place and take the damage. It was beyond flawed, but he considered it an old trick.

He slowed when he didn't hear his bombs explode and turned in time to see that every one of them had been diffused, their fuses cut off with that weird weapon of his.

He ducked behind a corner and watched as closely as he could.

Hold on…wait…no way…

A yo-yo? What the fuck?

He had to admit, it was kind of childish, but his condescending thoughts were obliterated as the store beside him blew itself into smithereens.

Gokudera found himself being thrown sideways and felt a very unwelcomed sinking feeling in his stomach.

This wasn't just some pissed off thug or a regular mafia boy – he was a pro.

"Sorry, Kokuyou high you said. Call me senile but, which family is that again?"

His eyes were as expressionless as ever, "Our family means little concerning you. Who are the members of your family and who is your boss? Spit it out."

Again, another blur of his arm and this time the Storm Guardian was only just able to dodge the attack while connecting the dots, that's why he was in this area. He knows the Vongola family live around this area. He's after Tsuna.

If that was the case, his duty came before anything else. He lit up three sticks of dynamite and chucked them at the hitman, cursing when they were diffused yet again by his yo-yo's.

What he didn't notice though, was that this time, both his arms had blurred.

Meaning he had two yo-yo's.

Whilst having managed to dodge one of the needle splinters ejected by the second yo-yo. They ran up his side and arm, and with a howl, Gokudera fell down onto one knee, spitting more blood onto the ground.

Beaten up twice in one day. He could practically feel his pride deflate by the second.

He felt sudden warm hands close around him protectively, and looked up to see Tsuna by his side, bracing himself for the onslaught.

"No Tsuna!" Gokudera called out just as the assassin threw another yo-yo in their direction.

As swiftly as he could, Gokudera swirled around, ignoring the agonising pain in his shoulder and side to protect the Tenth. The hitman still didn't know why Tsuna was and he'd be damned if he was the one to tell him. All he could see was his protecting a friend. Nothing more.

With his back to the hitman, he hissed at the excruciating pain as dozen of miniature needles punctured his skin. The pain nearly overwhelmed every aspect of his sense and the Storm Guardian almost called Tsuna 'Boss' as he begged for him to escape.

He collapsed onto his side and ground his teeth together angrily as the beanie clad hitman stood over him, in much the same manner as Hibari had.

"I have broken you. I'll be taking him," the last part he addressed to Tsuna who practically cringed in horror, "It would be best for you to forget ever seeing this. Speak a word of it and I will not hesitate in annihilating you."

Tsuna's face paled considerably at this but just before he was dragged away, Gokudera hissed urgently to his boss, "Hurry and get home. It'll rain soon."

The underlying meaning was clear, even to a moron. Tell Yamamoto.

Tsuna shook his head and tackled the hitman from the side, barely knocking him. Without Reborn and his dying will bullets or the ring, Tsuna was unable to fight in any way. It was like that with Dino in his men.

"No, Tsuna, don't!" Gokudera rasped against the pain.

The assassin responded promptly with a knee jerk reaction. He kicked Tsuna in the chest, knocking him down onto the ground with ease. Tsuna groaned, earning himself another kick to the ribs. He recoiled, hugging himself, but still reached out for Gokudera, being hit repeatedly before going still.

"Son of a bitch! Tenth!" Gokudera roared, wishing he could move so he would kick the bitch's ass, but the pain was a handicap and his efforts proved fruitless. All he was rewarded for was a punch to the temple that threw him off the edge of consciousness.

Shit, what have I gotten myself into? Was the only thing he could remember thinking before he let the silence engulf him a place where he knew the pain wouldn't follow.

I'm sorry Tenth, Yamamoto...