A/N: Now, I'm not sure if any of the mafia families even have emblems or such, so I'm going by the fact that they do. (Hopefully Amano didn't subtly add them in D: I don't think my idea of the Vongola emblem is the same as hers...) Anyway, I've made it so that Vongola has the symbol of the Phoenix. Somehow, after reading later manga chapters (the Shimon arc for anyone who's keeping up with it :D) it seemed perfect for them. I won't disclose the Grigori family emblem yet though =3 that's for later - *oh dear, was that a spoiler? O_O* Oh, I've also altered a little of the storyline. Remember when Yamamoto was going to jump off the roof in one of the earlier chapters? Well, I've sort have put my own little stamp on it but saying that it wasn't Tsuna that stopped Yamamoto, but in fact Gokudera =) It IS AU, so I think, like my 'flame thing' going on, I've got a little lee way, right? ;)
Chapter Nine – Faith in one Another
"I won't suffer, be broken, get tired, or wasted
Surrender to nothing, or give up what I
Started and stopped it, from end to beginning
A new day is coming, and I am finally free"
-Attack – 30 Seconds to Mars
Dino's instructions began pretty simply, but as he continued his explanation, everyone's brows began to knit together, and even Hibari's left eye was twitching with the onslaught of information.
"...physics behind this technique are as follows and you need to pay attention to this in order to ensure you have the correct balance of both your resolve and physical strength. Allow your flame to overcome your own control and it will engulf you. Your nerves won't be able to withstand the strain and your brain will short circuit. In basic terms, you'll become brain dead within the space of twelve seconds at best. Even if you are able to properly balance the two, the strength of your flame is extremely important." He looked around to make sure his students were paying the proper attention to his words before continuing, "You have to be able to manipulate and bend your flames to your own will. It's difficult though, even without the initial struggle to even get your flame going. Whilst your body is surrounded by the flames, in your mind, you have to imagine each particle and bend it to your own will. You have to focus like you would a microscope and the strain it has on your body is incredible. This technique does not last forever, in fact, the best you'll get out of this is about half and hour. Any more and your muscles will deteriorate, your blood will become like acid and you'll go into cardiac arrest."
Peachy, Gokudera thought sarcastically. So this skill wasn't just tricky, but fricking suicidal...
Dino had been blathering on for a good eight minutes, and the explanations were long winded and brimming with statistics and scientific jargon no-one really understood. Compromised electrical impulses travelling to the central nervous system when under the stress of the hot flames, the near inhuman amount of patience and self-control, not to mention stamina, that your body had to cope with in order for the technique to work; the counter-productive way your body lashed out at the way your own affinity took a hold. Then of course, there was the consoling factor that if there wasn't some perfect yin and yang balance between the two, then your brains would turn to over-cooked spaghetti - How absolutely charming.
"Now, I've explained it all to you as clearly as I can. Now it's your turn. This can only be achieved fully step by step, so for now, all I'll ask is that you call to your flame and light your rings." Dino's tone demanded the utmost obedience and Lambo looked almost frightened by his curt tone. Chrome soothed him as gently as she could, muttering about how it was a game, but one that the child had to be very, very careful about.
Dino felt an uncustomary pang of guilt in his chest. He didn't want to put these kids through such a trial – not yet. Most of them were barely even fifteen, and the slightest miscalculation in this technique could snuff out their lives permanently. It was too great a risk, too uncharitable a gamble, but Reborn was who had called the shots, so all Dino could do was explain the rules of the game, roll the dice and hope his students had enough sense and talent to beat the game.
The analogy was strange, but somehow fitting for the situation – more like suicide chess. You had to strip yourself away, your thoughts, your reasoning and your pride in the beginning. A little like throwing yourself in at the deep end, except it had to be a calculated dive – otherwise you would hit the rocks and be swept away by the current.
They stood in line, just how they'd been instructed, but now all were jumping on the spot – figuratively. None of the Guardian's could stop their nerves from getting to them and all just tried to cope as best they could. Lambo looked around and up at the sky in a constant, cyclical pattern with his wide dark green eyes. Ryohei clenched and unclenched his fists religiously whilst Tsuna gnawed on his lower lip. Yamamoto shifted from foot to foot, eyes down, brows knit together in concentration. To Gokudera's amusement, the only indication of Hibari's stress was that twitch in his eye.
Chrome was the calmest of them all, and stood beside Yamamoto. Her violet gaze was focused and sincere in its intensity as she drank in every morsel of information Dino told them. Yamamoto felt a little in awe of her spectacular control. He felt like a jumping bean in an empty shell – he was ricocheting off everything. Every gust of wind or the scrunch of dirt grinding under his foot made him twitch. He felt under an immense crushing pressure that he wasn't sure he could handle.
To be shot at and told he had a day to decide between the blade and baseball seemed so...trivial and like child's play compared to this trial. Mess up on this and it wasn't your sword you had to forfeit, but your life.
Dino frowned, "I gave you an instruction." His tone feigned impatience. In truth, they could take as long as they liked. He didn't want to hurry them along in any way. The longer it took the better. He didn't want to focus on the terrifying task before him, but he had to. He was an adult, and now a teacher. He couldn't lose his cool now when these kids were depending on him. He held their lives in his hands, and he would be damned if he didn't protect them.
Slowly, each of the Guardian's rings burst into life. It took some tough coaxing from Gokudera to awaken Lambo's flame, but when it came to life, it was a startling sight. Such power that could come from such an untainted, naïve soul was astounding. The purity of his thunder flame was remarkable. It was a blaze to be commended, but then, all of the Guardian's had resolutions to be proud of. It was theirs alone, their reason to fight, no-on else's. It was rare to find someone who fought for the exact same goal as another. Even if you did, the degree of that resolve would vary also – this made synchronisation and the bridging of powers difficult, especially within Mafia Families. Once, it had been simple. Vongola Primo had initiated it between his Storm and Rain Guardian, along with the Cloud and Mist Guardian. It hadn't been as successful as he had intended, but their flames had managed to stabilise each other in some way, thus allowing their affinities to bridge together. It had been a force to be reckoned with, one with enough strength behind it allow them to become to most renowned of mafia families.
"Right then," Dino appraised them for their strong flames that flickered nonchalantly from their rings, "considering you all know how focus on that flame, search for its source. Uncover it and focus on that flame. If you can, try to control it. When you wake up, you should look a little like me, but less stable. That doesn't matter; just focus on balancing the flame with your tolerance level. This isn't a matter of pushing yourself that extra mile. Do that and you will die. Go as far as you can, but no further. Preterito?" The Italian Guardian's nodded curtly, even those who weren't bi-lingual understood the tone and dipped their heads in recognition. He smiled wryly as Hibari just conveyed his understanding through his intense gaze. That boy was impossible.
Satisfied with the focused and determined gazes of his students, Dino folded his arms and ordered, "Be quick and be thorough. Begin."
Gokudera shut his eyes and retracted inwards – a skill he'd learnt as a child. Mental walls were perfect to hide yourself behind, and most considered what he was doing exactly that. Instead, all he doing was curling inwards, directing his focus inwards. Everything suddenly was centred on his own being. He looked, like he would around a cross road, wondering which street to take. If he were his own flame, where should it be? Was it all around him? Or did it make up his very essence or had he locked it away? If he had, where would he have put it? How would he have disguised it? Such things should be known to yourself but Gokudera felt like he was stumbling around in the dark. He had no initiative with this and with an exasperated, made his body physically relax and mentally began to wander aimlessly. He was depending rather heavily on the saying 'you find the best things when you're lost'. Well, all he had to do was get lost in his own sub consciousness then. Whatever Dino wanted him to do, he just had to close his eyes and spin around on the spot and walk in a random direction. It was how he usually did these inner-self things. He just wandered with no goal. It was surprisingly effective too.
His surroundings blotted out to a faint insignificant buzz, his intentions directed inwards. Reality began to filter away like quicksand, and the foundations he stood on began to crumble. He was going too deep, delving too far. His legs crumpled under him and there was the fleeting sensation of weightlessness before he hit the ground.
He wanted to pull away from himself, to unclench this fist he had made in his mind, locking himself in. He was the cross-roads again, but was lost. He didn't know which direction would take him back. His body felt distant, almost so much not-his own as an outer body experience. If he strained though, he could hear Reborn speaking. He was close, he must have been otherwise he wouldn't have been able to hear him so clearly.
"I'm genuinely surprised. I would have thought Tsuna would be the last to fall, or maybe Hibari, but it seems it was Gokudera here."
The child's presence was dominating, stronger than a dense overcast sky that blotted out the sun. His words mulled together as he continued to speak to someone and it wasn't long before he felt dragged into his own maelstrom, spiralling right into his core. His vision doubled, fuzzed and blurred, colours varying in shades of ice, smoke and blackened ash.
He stumbled, faltered, fell over himself countless times while he spiralled around his own mind. He was so confused, so lost and so damn dizzy he thought he would hurl at any given moment.
Finally, he felt himself hit something. No, he hadn't hit something – it was just that the spinning had stopped. It was strange; he must be in that non-linear realm again, like when Yamamoto had gotten into his dreams. It was a strange sensation – very sensual. He smelt nothing, but it was everything at the same time. But not everything, but everything that was him – The overwhelming smell of cigarettes, mints, soap and dynamite crossed with leather surrounded him like a vice. It enclosed him in a familiar embrace, its strange colours, like how he viewed this world, a swirl of greys, whites, gold's and blue's.
He felt isolated and scared in this world of his. Everything was unfamiliar and so dark and directionless that he wanted to just curl into a ball and cry. This was his inner self? Jesus...without Yamamoto's presence it just seemed like a bleak desolate wasteland. He was cold, tired and so damn weak he wanted to just rot away with the shame of it. He would be no use to the Tenth, not like how he was now.
But...He threw his head up in startled astonishment. He was searching for something, but had immediately portrayed the goal as something tangible. Damn, he really could be such a blockhead. Gokudera hurriedly rewound Dino's words and replayed them in his head.
"...search for its source. Uncover it and focus on that flame."
With a growl, Gokudera overcame the almost unbearable urge to smack himself silly. He was stupid, so damn stupid. Yes, you could see your own dying-will flame, but that was in the physical word. When actually looking for the source of it, he had immediately assumed it would have asserted some sort of metaphysical form. But it wasn't a blazing flame deep within him. It was his resolve.
He resisted the urge to kick himself for his ignorance. He was searching for his resolve. God, could he get any denser? He was probably lowering the planet's IQ with his own belligerence and inability to read between the lines.
He looked to the softly curling colours weaving themselves around his body. They didn't seem as intrusive now – less suffocating. He let them wrap around him, their cool water-like texture washing over him in soft ways. The smoke would run across the ice, the white tendrils twining around themselves with sudden sparks of red. They calmed him, much like Yamamoto's flame did, and he shut his eyes to the blinding darkness of his consciousness. He was searching any further. In fact, he hadn't even needed to look any further than his own thoughts. How he managed to overkill things so easily was a skill he really wished he didn't posses - always had to over-think and over-calculate situations didn't he?
Gokudera banished his thoughts. He didn't have time to brood over his flaws and concentrated as much as he could, struggling to focus himself. It was so difficult, so damn frigging hard to concentrate on something with all that noise.
Noise? What?
He broke his eyes open, or just let his own strange little world back in again. In this realm he didn't know exactly what kind of form he had taken, but it made no difference. He could hear something, something that was being incredibly insistent that he listen to it.
He looked around and was blind-sided by a wave of images. Just like before when Yamamoto had seen his past, the images flew across his field of vision like a broken movie. The image jumped and glitched in places, in a way that no doubt meant that these were his memories. Though he had anticipated a cruel repeat of what had happened before, he was instead looking at a scene of himself, the tenth and Yamamoto walking to school. It suddenly jumped to a scene from when they all had been training with Reborn – then forwarding to when they'd been stranded on that island for three days. His face heated at the sight of seeing his mouth being claimed by Yamamoto's on the last night of their time on the island. The images blurred, morphing into their fight with Xanxus, then to when Gokudera had been rescued from Mukuro...what did any of this mean? Though he felt rather relaxed by having his whole life replayed before his eyes, it was distracting and an inconvenience.
He had no idea if there was a time limit, and he meant a fatal limit to how much time you could spend suspended in the clutches of your consciousness and tried to push back the images. As if they had a life of their own, they reared and the colours flared, sound growing louder from the flitting images.
Their words were slurred and choppy, but whatever his past self and the other Guardian's were saying seemed a cross between sincere, joking, angry and pleased. It was strange, but then he realised, just like the sporadic film before him, the scripts had been merged together as well.
With another swift mental kick, Gokudera managed not to cry out as he understood. It seemed that his consciousness was good for something after all. However strange, these images were trying incredibly hard to show him where his resolve had come from. He had spoken it aloud many times, but here, in the safe seclusion of his own little world, he could indulge himself. Yes, when he said his pride and goal to be of good use towards Tsuna was true, he in fact had no idea what his resolve was. It had always just been there. All he'd ever done was focus on trying to make the flame. He hadn't thought about where the flame had come from.
But now, whilst he stood leaning forwards, eyes narrowed in pin point accurate concentration, he tried to decipher his riddled thoughts. Looked like even his consciousness wasn't willing to give him a break and make it easy for him.
Dino had done one more patrol across a two hundred metre radius of the surrounding foliage; ensuring no-one had followed them or indeed found them. With the state the Guardian's were in now, if they were to be ambushed by some random Mafia family, it wouldn't end well.
The Cavallone boss had long ago shed his flame, thus extinguishing his blazing gold-blue aura. It had taken quite a lot out of him, and it would take a hefty amount of rest to bring his strength back.
Reborn weaved in and out of narrow paths between each Guardian's strewn body, his stride refusing to falter or even slow when Dino returned. They had left them where they'd fallen, no daring move them in case it affected their mental state.
"How long has it been?" Dino asked, not wanting to think about it. None of the Guardian's were showing any signs of distress, but none were waking up either. He feared that if they stayed asleep for too long, they'd run the risk of sinking into a coma.
Reborn responded flatly, "Fifty-four minutes. They have another six minutes to wake up until the deadline is reached. If they breach the one hour rule, their brains will begin to shut down. They'll forget how to breathe and their hearts will cease to beat. I'm glad you told them about this though – that should hurry them up."
Fuck! Dino thought in despair. That one thing – that one tiny, so easily spoken warning that had been so crassly forgotten! He kicked, clawed and smacked himself internally but hunched his shoulders shamefully at his ex-tutor.
Reborn sensed his student's change in mood and in response, his aura prickled, "Dino...you did tell them they had a time limit didn't you?"
Dino shifted from foot to foot, accepting the sharp kick Reborn gave him. Anyone else and he would never have let it go unchallenged, but he deserved the abuse unconditionally. He landed on his but and flinched, expecting another kick to the head. Reborn just stood on his chest though, glowering down at him furiously.
"My God, you're no better than Tsuna sometimes Dino. Have I taught you nothing? Has everything I've done accounted to this?" His voice rose angrily and he stamped his foot down on his chest painfully for emphasis. He really wanted to kick the snot out of the Cavallone boss right then, or just break something. He couldn't believe the man had been so stupid as to forget to tell them the most important factor! Did he want them to die?
Dino didn't ask for forgiveness, knowing he deserved none, but refused to sink into a pit of self-misery. It wouldn't help him at all and he knew better than to indulge in the fruitless emotion.
There was a sharp cry from beside him and he sat upright sharply, Reborn landing lightly in front of him.
Lambo had begun to cough up blood. His small fragile chest heaved while he choked on his own blood. Dino knelt by the child carefully, his worst fears solidifying.
"He's rejecting his own flame..." He murmured. It couldn't be true. Lambo was the legitimate successor of the Thunder Ring. He just couldn't reject it. It was practically hotwired into his DNA for god's sake!
Reborn sniffed dismissively, "Either he hasn't been exposed to enough electricity to accept the full extent of his flame, or he's putting on a show. We'll know which in," he began to count down, turning away to pace again, "five," one finger down, "four," another, "three, two..." he paused then dropped the last one, "one."
Lambo's eyes snapped open and he gasped, his chest rising as he gulped in air as though he'd been submerged under water for an hour instead of in a deep sleep.
Dino felt the vice that had entwined itself around his chest loosened and he took a deep breath as he placed his palm gently atop the Bovino's forehead. He felt warm, maybe even a little flushed, but the child's eyes fluttered open after a moment and the Cavallone boss felt his heart swell in relief. Though the Bovino child was a nuisance at the best of times, he didn't want the kid to freaking die.
Reborn just sighed but it was broken off when he noticed the strange aura encircling the child.
Lime green sparking flames covered the five year old, the flames most potent around his horns.
"He's done it..." Dino murmured incredulously. He had never ever expected the five year-old to be the first of the Guardian's to wake up. He had to give the kid more credit.
"He's not the only one," Reborn noticed and his intrigued tone made blonde Italian look up and then in the direction Reborn was looking in. He noticed quite a few of the Guardian's were growing restless. Both Ryohei and Hibari seemed to be stirring. Ryohei's arms were twitching, and ever so slightly, Hibari's breath was hitching as his body began to buckle under the strain. Lambo had coughed up blood for heaven's sake. God knew what would happen to these boys. With the heightened endorphins coursing through their body's and not to mention the way they were all still teenagers, so their own biological chemistry was almost always in flux...shit, he and Reborn really hadn't thought this through. If the Guardian's slip up with their own handling of the technique, then whether they lived or not would be down to whether their cells manage not to fry under the strain. Their own pain threshold might be the only thing keeping them alive.
"Chrome..." Dino's tone was guilt stricken. She of all people didn't have to tolerate such pain, but Reborn shot his ex-student a knowing but sharp look. The girl writhed in obvious pain, her nails clawing into her arm to help stem the pain flaring in her body. Within moments, her eyes
"They all have to wake up Dino. Don't pine over them like kicked puppies put out to sleep in the rain. The pain will only subside once they wake up."
Oh, of course. Glad to know that they only have to frickin' wake up. Like that's not hard.
There wasn't any sarcasm in his thoughts either. Dino knew all too well how difficult it was to find consciousness again. If you thought wrongly about where you found the source of your flame, or if it was deeper within that you had thought, reaching the surface again was harder than having to drive with your eyes closed. It was like when pushed under a wave. The water's so dark and thick and suffocating your more focused on trying to breathe that when you look for the surface, it's a blurred mess of swirling greys and blues. You aren't able to distinguish which way is up and down. You could drown in your own consciousness, and it was an awful sight to behold if on the visual end. It could be an entirely silent death or an enormous combustion of your internal organs. It all depended on the strength of your own resolve. Both extremes said s thousand words for the strength behind your resolution, but none were particularly attractive alternatives. Now, waking up unharmed, that sounded far more affluent choice.
The illusionist coughed twice, two hefty chest whoops, but thankfully there wasn't any blood in the heaves. Instead, she took another deep breath and with a steadying exhale, she opened her eyes.
Miraculous, Dino thought in awe at the sight. The petit Italian girl had managed to sit up without any difficulty whatsoever, no doubt forcing herself to believe that there wasn't any pain through her own illusions and his breath froze when he locked his gaze with hers.
Her eyes actually had a violet glow to them. The colour seemed to pulsate in the same way a sun would its own lights rays with outstanding power in its intensity. Not even Reborn had thought one of them would achieve such a high level of expertise in such a short amount of time. It was humanly impossible. But then...maybe it wasn't just Chrome's strength there right now. She's was permanently imprinted with Mukuro. There was no doubt some sort of two-way connection between them– each leant strength to the other, but Mukuro mostly leant her knowledge. Had he lent her the knowledge to control her flame at such a skilled level? Did Mukuro even know of the technique? It was impossible...but then again, he must definitely was the descendant of the first Mist Guardian, so it would only be natural.
Dino groaned audibly as Reborn kicked him in the head, already frustrated by his ex-students notorious inner monologue. He didn't even have to look at the young man to know he was mulling over something that would certainly be exhaustingly boring and right off topic. That was almost always the case, but this time, he wanted the Cavallone to focus only. If Chrome was showing this degree of power, then telepathy wasn't far off and there was countless things he did not want her to hear from the rambling muddle of a mind like Dino's. The idiot didn't even remember when his own local supermarket opened. If Chrome were to stumble across anything of any degree of secrecy, no doubt it would be splattered with holes and confusing knots of information that his no-doubt brainless student had wound into it. The Cavallone boss could be unbearably stupid at times, especially when remembering things that were even mildly difficult.
Dino didn't complain at Reborn's abuse though, but he did flinch a little when Chrome began to walk towards them, hands reaching out to take Lambo. His flame was weakening already, the boy's grasp slipping quickly. It was to be expected – he was barely five, so to have such control even at his age was beyond spectacular. At least Lambo was at an age where pride hadn't dug its roots in too deep. For Guardian's such as Yamamoto, Gokudera and especially Hibari, such a thing would their biggest demon. With a technique like this, you really had to understand where your boundaries were and not step over them. Pride was the exact monster that ushered you forwards, but then again, common sense just pushed you back. Dino hoped to God common sense would win out.
Gently, Chrome nursed Lambo gently in her arms, his loudening whimpers softening as she soothed him, rocking the boy like an infant in her make-shift cradle. She looked up to Dino and spoke quietly, "How long do the others have?"
Dino took a quick glance at his watch and couldn't help the way his stomach flipped and churned disgustedly, "Four minutes...maybe less."
Chrome looked distressedly between Reborn, Dino and the rest of her fellow Guardian's, chewing on her lower lip.
Her face was pinched and her flame dulled a little as she whispered, "They might not survive Dino-san."
Dino was about to apologise, to ask if she might be able to use her illusionist affinity to enter their minds, but knew better than that. An intrusion of that degree could be worse than disastrous. Even if the mind was brought back to reality, who knew how many screws had been loosened. It was too dangerous, both for Chrome and the person in question. It was too much to ask.
Reborn had his back to his ex-student, not in dismissal, but in self-loathing. He hadn't calculated this accurately at all. He'd misjudged their capabilities and because of his ignorance, might suffer the loss of four well deserving Guardian's, needles to mention the death of the tenth Vongola boss. He might as well paint a target on his back now, save time for those who were surely going to come after him.
Come on, He urged silently, his gaze intense, you stupid, stubborn, stuck-up kids, come on!
Gokudera stretched his hand out tentatively, anxious as to whether he really wanted to see this or not.
He was stood before a very dark, depressing memory, one which he often looked over when thinking of his time in Japan. It was by no means as dark as what he'd experienced in Italy, but no means any less distressing.
The image before him blinked and shuddered like it was on too old a film-reel and with a gulp, he pushed himself in.
He was plunged into his make-shift world, where it looked like it was flowing in real-time, but somewhere, he had the knowledge that it was a scene that passed at the same speed as thought. It was instantaneous, but a recollection that held all of its information in one, chronological, easy to understand piece. Just like before, it was an exact replica of when you think about a memory – its immediate.
He was in a dark, small apartment, slumped against his kitchen wall, a dinner knife clenched in his hand, the other arm balanced on his bent leg. His face was turned downwards, fist clenching and unclenching in regular intervals.
He was pathetic. So damn utterly useless with how he ran his life he'd only become a waste of space. His grip tightened on the blade in his hand and his face burned at how scared he felt. He had assured himself he could do it, could drag the knife edge across his skin and watch as crimson beads of his life drained away. But sat here, his grip shook, his resolve stumbled and his mind began to doubt.
Fuck, just do it already! He cried shamelessly on the inside but he wouldn't do it. He was too afraid of what he may leave behind – afraid of the unknown that lurked in the shadowed realm that accompanied death. This was his life – there wasn't a second 'do-over' life where you could work harder and do more – you had one life. One shot at experiencing everything it threw at you. By letting it be torn away from the harsh cut of a knife blade...was it worth it?
The thoughts swirled around in his mind, churning at unfollowable speeds. He groaned and dropped the kitchen knife, gripping his hair in frustration.
"Argh, I just so fucking useless!" He growled. He'd laboured his ass off in Italy so he'd be able to make his own way in Japan, but the exchange rate hadn't been kind, as had his pitiful savings. With a large serving of humiliation, Bianchi had convinced him to seek his father's aid and everything he had...this apartment, the clothes he wore, the always full bank account...it was all his father's doing.
Son of a bitch, he thought bitterly, the words leaving a bitter taste in the air around him. It was obvious his father had only cared enough to support him because any son, whether from a mistress or from a fricking Gorilla, if the right-hand man of the tenth Vongola boss, it'd do wonders to his status among the mafia. Lift him dozen's of levels with the drop of a hat.
Even now, he'd found that just by searching himself, he was getting nowhere...he was failing both himself and his mother with his ignorance. How hard was it to find a Vongola boss?
His cell phone shuddered in his pocket. Gokudera ignored it belligerently for a few moments before begrudgingly shovelling around in his pocket to dig it out.
He flicked it open, stomach sinking at the caller ID.
"Cosa vuoi Bianchi?" He asked tonelessly.
"Bel modo di salutare tua sorella. They get more enthralling each time I dial this number."
Gokudera smiled wryly despite himself, angling his head up so he could rest it against the wall, "Is that why you keep on calling? Just to here my original greetings?"
There was a snort on the other end of the line, "Hardly. I've been calling because the Ninth left a message for you. A personal one I might add."
This caught his attention. The ninth only knew of Gokudera's mere existence because of his father and some incident that had happened years ago, one he very much did not ever want to recall and wondered what he'd done wrong this time, "What's the Ninth want?"
"Here, seen as I'm such a dear and considerate sister, I'll read what it says," she cleared her throat theatrically, "You want it in Japanese?"
Gokudera sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "sure...I need the practice."
"Hayato Gokudera, I have recently been informed of your excursion to Japan. I am delighted that you have taken such an interest in Vongola Decimo, however, I have reason to believe that you are unaware of his identity, thus I wonder if your expedition was a foolish choice with no preparation. However, such impulses are vital for a right-hand man, and I commend you for it. To aid you in your 'quest' if I may put it that way, I'd like to inform you that the boy you seek is named Tsunayoshi Sawada. He is enrolled in Namimori High School and I have just enrolled you on your behalf. Your uniform should be arriving within a day, which for you I think may already be now. I am aware that this letter is addressed to your previous residency in Italy, but I am certain your father or sister will pass on my regards. I look forward to seeing further development with your goal to becoming Vongola Decimo's right hand man and I want you to understand that you have my full support. Best regards," Bianchi broke off, "all that's left is the seal. So, you gonna go? To Namimori I mean."
Again, the silver-haired teen pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in exasperatedly "I've got no choice. If I want to become the right-hand man, then I'm going to have to do stuff I wish I wouldn't. Comes with the package. Guess that includes school."
Bianchi's laugh crackled through the receiver, "Honestly Gokudera...are you ever enthusiastic about anything?"
He answered dryly, "I do take delight in pouring my orange juice in the morning."
Bianchi only dignified his remark with a sigh, "Well, I know it must be late so..."
The picture broke away and Gokudera felt himself detach from the scene in relief. He'd spent that night mulling over countless things, both dark and light matters if he wished to think of the memory in vague, blatant tones. He'd grown severely depressed those previous three months, living in seclusion, each lead he'd found had just run him to a dead end, and soon his well of enthusiasm ran dry. The pit of self-loathing and shame had opened up under him and he'd let it swallow him gladly. His sense of self-worth had almost extinguished and the Italian had lost nearly five kilos in the space of a month. He would have called it self-harm, but he'd just felt sick to his stomach when he ate, so hadn't touched anything. He really had wanted to end it all that night. His fear had been temporary, and as gut churning a thought as it was, he'd been ready to do it just before Bianchi had called. His fear had nearly one out, but really, he'd had no other reason to stay alive. He'd thought that his dried up leads must have been some sort of sign from the God's telling him to stop his inane searching.
How wrong he'd been. Shyly, he smiled to himself, looking now at the softly hovering flame before him. It pulsed variations of blue, gold, green and violet, but the majority of the luscious colouring was a beautiful ruby red. Its multi-coloured tongues licked and curled softly, a tender but no doubt fierce flame. It shimmered, voices in it beckoning him in with soft whispers that calmed his tired and troubled heart.
"I love you Hayato. Remember it alright? It'll only ever be you who hears it."
He smiled warmly at the sound of Yamamoto's sincere confession that day he'd stopped the idiot from jumping from the top of the school roof. He'd lost sight of life, just like Gokudera had done. Though it could be argued, how did you see life? It surrounded you so thoroughly, was so thick and luscious it was so easy to miss. The old saying 'you can't see the forest through the trees' came to mind.
"I want my grapes now!"
Gokudera outright laughed at the sound of Lambo's childish demand that radiated out from the flame, a flash of green accompanying it.
He stepped closer to the glowing light, hugging it to him, his friend's voices swarming around him, tending to his deeply rooted scars, easing the dull pain. More than anything, it was Yamamoto's voice that ushered soothing nothing's to his heart was what soothed him the most. His low, melodic voice was better than any lullaby, more musical than that of a nightingale. The slushy thoughts made his ears burn, but he let himself indulge in the cliché feelings.
Beauty wasn't a mask. Yamamoto proved that. Lies weren't the foundations of life – Tsuna's innocence defended that. Demonic memories were defeatable. Freedom could be given – he'd been locked in a cage his entire life, so tightly he hadn't even realised until he'd tried to break free. He had become what no-one had expected, no-one had dreamt of, with the aid of others, but ultimately through his own means.
Faith – that unbending, damn stubborn thing that everyone took for granted. Hope was its innocent cousin that saw and spoke no evil of the world, instead acting as the light that blotted it out. Faith stood among the shadows of the world, holding your hand as you fought your demons and walked through the thick darkness. They were one and the same, yet two halves of a whole at the same time. When hope died, faith took its place readily. It had done that when he had been taken by Grigori. He hadn't hoped once to escape, but had enough faith to know if he did, he would run till his feet bled. Faith came in many twisted forms, but it was always there and now it was apparent that faith was exactly what made up the foundations of his resolve.
His resolve was the faith to pick himself back up again when to give up would be the better option; Faith that he'd always be saved by those who cared; Faith that his existence has some worth, no matter how many times he was told or shown that it wasn't; Faith that he has something to come back to when the sun set over the world; faith that he could hand Yamamoto his heart and trust it would be held gently and with the care it so desperately desired; it was never a faith in some imaginary being like God, but the tangible belief in those that had proved themselves worthy of his trust. He had faith in love, honour and courage, and to be at peace with himself and move onwards.
Faith that despite all he was, wasn't or should never be, he had the power to become worthy of being dubbed the right-hand man of the Tenth Vongola boss. He had faith that he would one day hold the responsibility of his friend's life in his hands on the battle field. It was a faraway dream, but it was still there. It hadn't faded and just as hope always did it shone above that dream brightly, waiting for faith to lead him there. And he would, both he and Yamamoto would get there.
Just as he began to absorb the colourful flame, Vongola's family emblem sprung to the silver-haired teen's mind. Slowly, the flames seemed to spread through his body from his chest, the fire zapping hungrily through his skin, glad to be one with its master once again. It lit his skin, but it didn't burn and peel like he would have imagined.
As his mind began to drift closer to consciousness, there was a sharp cry, one of a beautiful ancient creature that only the Vongola were worthy of representing.
The powerful majestic Phoenix of ages. It's gold, fiery wings opened to him as he was pulled away, its slender head tilted up as its song broke from its beak, a melody too melancholic for words to describe it. His own melody, that of the piano and his mental orchestra accompanied it, the strings and commanding tune a stunning representation of strength, loss and bittersweet agony.
From the ashes we are born, and from those ashes we forgive ourselves for our sins and atone. Forever we will rise and fall, but for eternity will shall protect until our life is taken. We are eternal not in our forms, but in our dreams for an ideal world.
Pride and confidence swelled in Gokudera's heart, his head becoming fuzzy with light-headedness. His muscles felt warm and renewed under his touch, every fibre tingling.
He felt renewed, in every sense. Looked like soul searching wasn't all yoga-mats and incense after all – what a shame.
Yamamoto was surprised by how he'd been holding his breath, letting it out in a gush when he saw Gokudera's eyes flutter softly before opening.
He dipped his lips intimately close, brushing them lightly against his lovers smooth, creamy skin, pecking him gently on the cheek.
It was an added buzz to the warm jolts sizzling through his system, but as Gokudera found himself becoming more aware of his surroundings and the startling fact that they weren't alone, he asserted his bad boy attitude and let it kick into hyper drive.
"Get off me you damn jerk!"
Pushing up onto his haunches, pressing his palms against his lover's shoulders, the Storm Guardian was surprised to see his skin dancing with thick translucent flames – the same techni-coloured one he'd found in his mind. There was sharp sparks of blue gathering around his palms where they touched Yamamoto's body.
"Cool..." Yamamoto spoke in awe, placing his own flaming hands on his lovers, startled by how their flames didn't scold one another's skin. Instead, they twined together, thick as two vines ensnaring each other, his cobalt blue flames morphing into Gokudera's.
"Stop it," Reborn commanded, suddenly beside them. Yamamoto and Gokudera sprung apart quickly, worried they'd done something wrong.
"Not meant to do that kiddo?" Yamamoto threw on his goofy grin, hoping it would soften whatever blow the infant was about to deal him. Honest to God, the Japanese teen wasn't sure how much more physical abuse this battered body of his could handle...
Reborn's gaze was arctic when they locked with Dino's, ignoring Yamamoto's attempt at humour.
They murmured to each other softly in Italian, voices hushed, but both Chrome and Gokudera heard all they needed to know and their eyes met, faces turning ashen.
Yamamoto caught on to the darkening mood surrounding his lover, and dragged by a grumpy Hibari and stunned Ryohei over towards them. His hands singed at the touch of their flames and he quickly had to usher them towards the two worried Italian's with his hands held away from them. That was weird...he was able to touch Gokudera without feeling a thing...well, actually, if he touched his lover, he felt even better, like he was draining something from his lover's body...was it possible their flames had something in common? Did all those strange colours mean something?
"Oi, Yamamoto, your Japanese ass needed over here!" Gokudera called out none too quietly. Yamamoto misunderstood his lover's intentions and his face reddened as he walked forwards.
Gokudera caught on to how his words could have been misinterpreted and he too joined his companion with the blushing onslaught.
Hibari looked vaguely amused by the two boy's reactions to each other, but was already growing weary of Chrome's dodgy translations of what Reborn and Dino were discussing. It irked him greatly when the Italian did that – leaving him out of the loop. It quite frankly pissed him off, but most things did.
"Gokudera, explain briefly," he directed a curt look to Chrome who all but wilted under his gaze, "what those two instructors over there are oh-so kindly keeping from us."
Gokudera crossed his arms and wondered if he should be defiant about it, the red in his flames beginning to spark more obviously.
"Hayato..." Yamamoto warned in a low tone, not wanting the silver-haired teen to get so fired up when all of them were in such vulnerable states.
His expression darkened and he turned his gaze away, fixating it on Tsuna's still body, "We had time limit of one hour. We all woke up before that time limit was up. The tenth though..." his expression turned pained, "hasn't and it's been three minutes over the limit already. If you go over it for too long...you'll sink into a coma and die." He swallowed a lump in his throat thickly.
Ryohei's expression was comically distressed and his eyes wide with worry as he dragged his hands through his hair, "Well, what do we do? Is there some extreme way to bring him back?"
Gokudera shrugged, broken off in whatever response he may have been given by having someone's hard boot crash into his ribs.
He cried out and stumbled into Yamamoto who caught him easily. Theatrically, they fell over each other in the scrabble, a mess of tangled legs and arms. When he raised his head, Gokudera's was precariously close to Yamamoto's and his body heat wasn't helping cool his red-hot cheeks.
"If you're quite finished fondling each other..." Reborn taunted as the two Guardian's scrambled to their feet.
Ryohei bit down on his lip to stop his mouth from quirking up in a smile, and Hibari just shot them a bored look. Good to know their companions carried such a variation of humour – wouldn't want things to get dull.
Reborn paced beside Tsuna's limp body and his tone hardened, "The idiot. To get lost in your own sub consciousness...how stupid can you get?"
Gokudera immediately stiffened at the verbal abuse towards his boss. He'd tried his best! Gokudera hadn't really understood exactly how he'd woken up – it had just been as though the flame had been a current, carrying back to reality. He hadn't really had to do anything – it had been instinctual.
"Chrome..." the hitman spoke only her name, but she nodded, an un-conveyed thought passing between the two of them.
"Uh, Yamamoto...? Gokudera?" She began to open her mouth again to voice her question when the earth beneath them shuddered. Ryohei yelped as he was thrown into Hibari who kicked him away like a master would to a disobedient dog.
"Dino!" Reborn called out to the surrounding trees. There was silence for three heartbeats, another crash and then Dino stumbled out, clutching his right arm that was oozing blood from between his fingertips. Hibari jerked, ready to help his tutor, but Ryohei restrained him subtly by the arm and the prefect stiffened but stood still whilst Reborn strode towards the wounded man.
After a moment, the child hissed, "Shit," before turning to the rest of the Guardian's. Gokudera had automatically leant up against Yamamoto both for support and to protect him. He sensed something was wrong and wasn't surprised when Reborn said, "We've been ambushed. There's a mafia family here that wants Tsuna. We don't know which family they're under, but it doesn't matter." He pointed towards Tsuna's body, "Take him away from here Chrome – across the river preferably. Hibari and Ryohei, you both will stay here with Dino to hold them off. I'll go and stamp some reality into Tsuna with the others."
Yamamoto and Gokudera felt immediately annoyed, "But, I wanna fight!" Yamamoto protested, but Gokudera jabbed him in the ribs hurriedly. He groaned at the sharp jab, rubbing his sore side. The Italian was just as irked to not be chosen to help offensively protect his boss, but they were obviously needed somewhere else, and the closer he was to Tsuna, the safer he felt his boss would be.
"You will do as I say. Are we clear?" The child ordered, directing a small finger towards Lambo who was nestled in Chrome's arms, "Make sure that idiot of a cow doesn't get washed away in the river alright?"
Chrome nodded earnestly, and with a curt goodbye, Yamamoto hitched Tsuna up onto his back, and they were off at full pelt, hurtling away from the clearing as fast as they could. Reborn had advised them to release their flames that had encased their body dare it influence Tsuna, and the boy's had obliged, settling for the small flame that flickered on their rings.
Chrome led then, with Lambo cradled gently in her arms, trident strung across her back, held on only by two thick black straps that wound tightly around her chest. Reborn was sat atop Gokudera's shoulder, eyes cast straight ahead, barking directions to Chrome.
"Reborn..." Gokudera huffed as he raced alongside Yamamoto, "H-how long does Tsuna have?"
The silence that followed made him think the child hadn't heard him or refused to answer, but it was only temporary, "perhaps six minutes. Ten at the most but I doubt he has the stamina."
Gritting his teeth, Gokudera sped up, snapping to Chrome to run faster.
"Oi, Hayato, watch the cliff edge!" Yamamoto called out from just behind him.
Gokudera whirled on the run, "Wha-?" But it escalated to a yell as the ground beneath his left foot gave way. His foot touched nothing but air for a bare heartbeat and suddenly he was tumbling.
"Hayato!" Yamamoto bellowed, swerving so he was heading towards his falling lover.
In a flash, Reborn had already leapt from his carriers shoulder onto the ground a good ten metres away and stopped a flustered Chrome from advancing any further.
The Storm Guardian looked over his shoulder while he fell backwards, having whirled around to try and help Reborn and cursed whatever God's were up in heaven.
That damn river below him was pretty fast, no...it was fricking rapid. Its current slammed against its banks hungrily, wanting to smash its way through its narrow path and he was about to fall into it. His feet were to far from the edge and his hands weren't able to grasp at the edge of the cliff.
Argh, shit!
The Storm Guardian went to try and attempt a dive to help soften the fall. He tried to anticipate how cold it might be, the way he'll have his oxygen torn out of his lungs. He winced, knowing he had merely a breathes worth of time before he crashed into the cold inferno below him.
With a sudden jolt, a fire started in Gokudera's right arm. His muscles jerked and nerves frazzled at the searing pain. With a cry he looked up, his fall having been stopped by something. Had he gotten his arm caught in a jutting out tree root?
There was an oh-so-human grunt above him and a splattering of mud and dirt fell into his face as someone dug their heels into the ground to try and haul him up.
"Hold on Hayato." Yamamoto ordered him gruffly, panting with the effort. For someone so slight, the Italian sure was heavy when he wanted to be. Was he even trying to haul himself up? The swordsman somehow doubted it, "C'mon!" he grunted, struggling to haul his lover up.
Tsuna lay only a few feet away, breathing soundly. He'd laid his friend down as gently as could be expected – so had practically dropped him like you would a jacket – before almost throwing himself over the edge of the cliff to grab a hold of Gokudera. He'd been so relieved he'd gotten a hold of his wrist. Imagine grabbing his hair...knowing Gokudera and his well educated mouth the boy would have alliterated many obscenities that someone should never hear. No matter, even with just his wrist being held, the boy was cursing with more talent than a drunken sailor.
A few grunts and several curses later, with the combined effort of the two Guardians', Gokudera had been safely dragged back onto solid ground. He all but collapsed shamelessly into his lover's arms, breath heaving against Yamamoto's well muscled chest, soothed by his lovers body-heat and steady heart rate.
The soft sound of a polite cough from behind them shook the two Guardians' out of their momentary paralysis. They looked around, Yamamoto with one arm casually hooked over Gokudera's shoulders, to see Chrome nestled over Tsuna. She hissed as her fingers scalded against the boy's skin.
"What is it? Has he got a fever?" Gokudera's stomach dropped down into the river below, washing away with it. Oh god, had his slip up cost Tsuna more than they could afford?
Chrome held her burnt hand to her chest, "No, it's just that my flame gets rejected by his. Whatever's going in there, my flame's immediately repelled. It's hurt quite a bit," she held up her reddened palm and fingers as proof.
Gokudera hissed as though he could feel the singing burn and frowned, "well, what have you got to do so he won't reject your..." he waved his hand, searching for the word, "thing." He settled for that. No need for details.
Chrome mashed her lips together, a worried look passing through her violet eye. Reborn filled in admirably for her, "You two will have to bridge together. Gokudera, as the Storm Guardian, you are able to access the Rain flame and being the Rain Guardian so can Yamamoto. Together, you will be able to neutralise Chrome's mist flame and allow her access into Tsuna's mind."
He turned his gaze up to them, "It's incredibly dangerous though. Only fools with no training would think of doing such a reckless thing with no preparation."
"How dangerous?" Gokudera asked slowly. He was willing to do anything to help Tsuna, but not if what he did may do the boy more harm if he messed up.
"If you two aren't able to bridge properly, one of you may drain the others life out of them. One flame may be stronger than the other. You've both experienced a mental link before though, so I highly doubt that will happen but there is the risk that with the continued exposure to your minds, you may form a mental connection, much like the one Chrome has with Mukuro. Would you be able to accept that?"
Yamamoto and Gokudera looked at each other squarely. The sudden risk of losing what little privacy they had was a saddening thought, but if it saved Tsuna, then they would have gone naked, painted themselves blue and done the hockey-pokey in front of the Queen.
Worried their voices would betray them; the two Guardians' did nothing but nod and move towards their boss slowly, a sudden weight now pushing down on them.
God I hope this works, they both thought, swallowing. Maybe Gokudera should have grabbed a little more than just toast that morning.
A/N: Well...not too sure that ended exactly how I wanted it...but oh well ): It gets a little more interesting and tense in the next chapter :3 Will Tsuna wake up? Will Gokudera and Yamamoto end up telepathically linked? *smiles wickedly at you all ;3* I'm such a mean writer...please don't get out the pitch forks yet to skewer me for the boring chapters! I've got some juicy *yeah, the lemons too :D* for Gokudera and Yamamoto, so just...COPE with these boring chapters kay? They're necessary for the rest of the plot kay? I know everything seems pretty easily laid out so far, but there're gonna be a lot of forks soon in the path, and I'll be sure to push you readers down one of them, but make sure to wonder about the other ones ;3 (whoa, that was very philosophical ;D My English teacher would be so proud XD)
For anyone, who like me, can't understand one word of Italian, here's the translation for what Bianchi and Gokudera said to each other =) Forgive me, Italian speakers, if I got some of the grammar wrong! Blame Google translator ;D
Bel modo di salutare tua sorella – nice way to greet your sister
Cosa vuoi Bianchi – what do you want Bianchi?