Windshear

Part 16/?

Authors: Kagaya Chou and The Dream Whisperer
Characters/Pairings: Yamamoto, Hibari, Tsuna, and Mukuro, with Varia cameos. Implied Byakuran/Mukuro and Mukuro-Tsuna, and eventual Yamamoto/Hibari.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 6893
Summary: Revelations abound when the Varia catch up to Tsuna, and Yamamoto still has something Hibari needs to hear.

Tsuna knew that it wasn't really Mukuro sitting next to him on the bench. Rather, it was Chrome. Mukuro was actually pushing Byakuran's wheelchair back at the Gesso's Roman base. If it could be believed, Byakuran was... touched by the... Vongola Tenth's mercy, and if same-sex marriages were ever to be legalized in Italy- Tsuna was seriously disturbed by the prospects of Byakuran proposing to Mukuro.

Who were they trying to kid?

Mukuro recognized the sour expression on Tsuna's face at a glance, and he chuckled, leaning back against the bench and linking his hands behind his head. He turned to the other man, quirking an eyebrow. "Why the angry face, Tsunayoshi-kun?"

"You shouldn't have to do what you're doing," Tsuna said quietly, eyes closed as he tried to school his face into a blander expression. He felt like he had failed somehow, as a boss. They'd all survived the 'nine years and ten months later', which was great, but... everything after this point was now a foggy road without a map or compass.

And Mukuro had to laugh at that, because only Tsuna would ever use words like 'should' and 'should not' with Mukuro. He shook his head slightly, leaning into Tsuna with a wide, teasing grin. "Are you worried for me now? We're just playing a game, between us."

With lives at stake, Tsuna mentally filled in. He just looked back worried at Mukuro, searching his face. But they'd already had that conversation about being careful, about not doing something crazy and life-threatening. Mukuro had promised him already, and to bring it up again would just say that he didn't trust his word. Tsuna had faith in him, and he knew that he needed to show it. So he smiled back. "You and your dangerous games... I just hope that you're both playing by the same rules."

Mukuro smiled, inclining his head to Tsuna and acknowledging the concern. Part of him still wondered how it was possible for Tsuna to care so much about him even after what he had done to him - and his friends - ten years ago.

It's a mystery that he still had not managed to solve.

He shrugged, ""Well, even if we aren't... I know how to take care of myself, Tsunayoshi-kun."

"I know," Tsuna nodded. That, and Mukuro had his own support group. Far be it for Tsuna to tell him how to work when Mukuro knew them best. It was Byakuran's scheming they should really be concerned about.

"How is Byakuran doing?"

Mukuro knew exactly what Tsuna was worried about. He simply shook his head, reaching over to press lightly on Tsuna's nose playfully, still smiling. "You have a crease between your brows again, Tsunayoshi-kun~"

Tsuna ducked his head with a slight, but automatic blush. Casting his inquisitive gaze from Mukuro, he rubbed at his forehead as he thought about what Mukuro was really saying. There's nothing new that you don't already know about. Don't worry. He nodded. "I worry too much."

"You do," Mukuro confirmed, leaning back against the bench again. He lidded his eyes slightly, staring up at the blue sky overhead. Humming quietly, he twirled his long ponytail with a finger. "He does seem to be recovering, though."

"You... are glad about that," Tsuna tilted his head, peering up at him cautiously as he spoke. It wasn't an accusation. It wasn't a pure statement. In fact, he was curious. Mukuro did like Byakuran, right? "Aren't you?"

"Ahh..." Mukuro's smile widened a little as he turned to look Tsuna in the eye. "Maybe I am."

There was that unreadable look, along with that awkward feeling again. Tsuna's lips thinned slightly, and his brows once more briefly creased, but it was a familiar feeling so he just sighed to himself. He was being silly, which wouldn't do. He was... he was the boss.

"How's Joushima-kun?"

Sitting back up straight, Mukuro folded his hands on his lap as he turned away from Tsuna. How silly, this boy-turned-man, was. It was a trait he still hadn't managed to shake off. Mukuro shook his head to himself, a rather amused smirk curving his lips.

"He's all right now," he replied, mismatched eyes meeting amber again. "In much better shape than Gloxinia-kun, at that."

Gloxinia...

What happened to Gloxinia was... certainly curious, to say the least. Gloxinia had disappeared by the time the Gesso returned to their Roman base. The idea that Mukuro had finally flat out killed him crossed everybody's mind, but Mukuro himself simply smiled and asked if they really though he had the time of day to spare on that Rain guardian.

Ex-Rain guardian apparently, because when Byakuran heard what had happened when he'd specifically asked Mukuro to 'fetch the cure' he didn't seem too pleased.

Gloxinia had been exiled.

But if anyone would know where he was now, Tsuna was pretty sure it'd be Mukuro.

Mukuro smirked a little at the thoughtful expression that suddenly crossed Tsuna's face. He had a pretty good idea what the Vongola Tenth was thinking about.

A soft laugh, "You don't have to worry about that one. He's... well taken care of, to say the least."

It didn't make sense, but Tsuna supposed that saying it to Mukuro would have been redundant. "He still holds a Mare ring," he pointed out instead. "Byakuran hasn't given up on the rings yet..." He looked at Mukuro for confirmation.

Mukuro laughed at that, throwing his head back in genuine amusement. "The Giglionero has come calling a few times - that Gamma man is really interesting, especially with his... ah, fixation on their young leader." His smirk at Tsuna was full of mischief and innuendo. "He reminds me a lot of Hayato-kun."

Swinging his legs on the bench like a child, his mood turned entirely serious again.

"He's not one to give up power so easily, Byakuran-san. And... yet, he still hasn't claimed that Rain ring from Gloxinia-kun." Although his lips were smiling, his eyes remained as sharp as knives. "It's curious, isn't it?"

"Well, he still going through physiotherapy, isn't he?" Tsuna sighed, shoulders sagging a bit. He couldn't help but think that their temporary 'alliance' was just that deceptive moment of peace when the eye of the storm is directly overhead.

But at that moment, his phone rang.

"Ah!" He found it by the third ring. "Hello?"

"Vooooi~ Boss wants to see you!"

"Squa- Xanxus?!"

A growl came through the phone. "Voiiiii, are you deaf now? Yea he does!" Tsuna could imagine him screaming into the phone while waving the sword around him, and he winced. "What is this shit about the Gesso and that Cloud bastard of yours?"

"Uh..." Tsuna was holding the phone at arm's length, boggled that he could still hear it so clearly. Note to self: let the embarrassment and ensuring chaos be a reminder not to piss off your elite assassination squad. The young don gulped, feeling a chill settle down his spine.

He wasn't scared of them anymore. Really, he wasn't.

It didn't mean he liked them any better; Squalo was the Varia's best PR person.

"It- it's a long story, Squalo-san..."

Mukuro smiled fondly to himself as he watched Tsuna nearly flail around in response to the Varia's call. He could hear every word clearly from where he was sitting - that silver-haired swordsman was still as crass as ever. Shaking his head to himself, he leaned backwards again and watched Tsuna handle them.

"A long story?" Squalo echoed the words in a near-animalistic growl. "Then you better start on it now, Sawada."

Tsuna frowned. He had a secure line, was in a safe place, and he trusted Mukuro now. He was used to the Varia being severely biased, their own leader being the only one they listen to, but that was no reason to make things difficult...

After a brief silence, he opened his mouth again, and spoke in a firmer tone. "Hibari-san was shot once... by a special bullet the Gesso had been working on. It had a slow acting disease that was meant to break his lungs down from the inside.

"Byakuran never admitted that he had ordered a hit on Hibari, but when we approached him for a cure, he... made an arrangement with us. That's why they fought."

There was a sudden scrabbling at the end of the line, and a crashing thud before a voice that was distinctive Squalo was heard to be screaming and cursing. Another crash and several more shouts and screams later, the line finally reached some sort of peace and quiet.

Then Xanxus's voice came over the line, "So is that trash dead yet?" It's impossible to know which of the two he meant, really.

"...No." Tsuna was positively scowling now, a look of disgust in his eyes. From the sound of it, Xanxus had repeatedly slammed Squalo against a hard and flat surface, rather than asking for the phone like a normal, decent human being. And kept doing it until he stopped screaming.

"No one died, Xanxus," his tone was cold and disapproving. Bunching a fist against the fabric of his pants, Tsuna resisted the urge to ask about Squalo's condition. He didn't know whether it would help, but the sinking feeling in his gut said that calling attention to it would just make things worse for the Varia head's right hand man.

Mukuro was watching Tsuna blatantly now, a small smile still tugging on the edges of his lips. That Tsunayoshi-kun - he was absolutely fascinating when he was angry like this, brows drawn together, knuckles white and eyes flaring with the flames he was so known for. It reminded Mukuro that no matter how well-meaning and simply kind Tsuna was, he was still a dangerous man.

And he liked that reminder.

Shifting his position slightly, he leaned in to listen.

"What?" Xanxus was saying on the other line, all spitting rage and incredulity still. "Why is that flower bastard still not dead?"

Tsuna went silent. Too silent. He glanced at his Mist guardian, and whatever he was seeing only seemed to strengthen his resolve. His lips thinned. His heart wasn't in arguing though. It never had been. "He's important..." He looked away from Mukuro, staring at nothing, possibly just the clear blue sky. "You don't just strip a famiglia of its don... without troublesome consequences, which we don't need." He bit his lip when those words came out.

For a moment, Mukuro could only stare at Tsuna even when the other man glanced away. He sat up suddenly- it couldn't be, could it? Tsuna couldn't have-

Even while Mukuro's head suddenly swam with his sudden realization, Xanxus continued, barking into the phone, "Ch'. That's why you got to kill him - get rid of the head and the problem's solved. You're still too fucking soft."

"Be that as it may, he survived the fight, and is now considering an alliance. If he had died the rest of the Gesso would still be running, and you can bet they won't be acting like headless chickens," Tsuna gritted out.

He didn't believe for a moment that Byakuran really wanted an alliance, but... he wanted to believe.

Xanxus snorted into the phone, perfectly disdainful and disbelieving. "It's your grave to dig." A pause, and then hushed voices, as if muffled by a hand. When he next spoke, the words were a growl, nearly a threat. "Why didn't you inform us?"

"...He challenged Hibari Kyouya over our rings, Xanxus," Tsuna tried not to let his words become too curt, but at the same time he knew that mentioning the rings would be seen as a challenge. "It wasn't your battle," Tsuna calmly continued.

"Aren't you the one who keep saying that we are part of the Vongola too?" Xanxus mocked. "Taking your words back now, Tenth?"

"It wasn't so much about the Vongola as it was about the rings," Tsuna sighed, slumping back slightly against Mukuro, and against the bench. "Don't take it personally, Xanxus. The Varia weren't required to be there. The Ring guardians were there on... request."

Mukuro looked down at him, absent-mindedly running his hand through Tsuna's hair. He was frowning, lips pursed, lost in thought.

Xanxus growled over the line, obviously irritated at being reminded of his defeat ten years ago. There's a loud noise like the phone was slammed to the table, or thrown to the floor, before a quiet clatter, and then Squalo's voice, much more quiet and subdued than before. "Not talking 'bout that, Sawada. You didn't even give us a clue about what was happening.

"What would've happened if that bastard lost, voii?"

Tsuna squeezed his eyes shut. "He wouldn't have lost," he said firmly. "I wasn't trying to drag the past out, Squalo-san. I was saying that it was Hibari-san's battle. I never doubted that Hibari-san would win, so that's moot point."

He glanced up at Mukuro again, and blushed, feeling somewhat chastised... or something.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a long while, broken periodically by muffled, shouting voices. Then Squalo's voice came over the line again, "Whatever you say, Tenth."

Click.

Tsuna let out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding, but the end of that conversation brought no relief. He blinked slowly and stuffed his cell phone back into his pocket, feeling small and so very tired.

He gave Mukuro a wry grin... and couldn't think of anything to say.

Mukuro simply looked at him, eyes still conflicted even as his hand continued to pat Tsuna's hair gently. Tilting his head to the side, he smiled, but it was empty. "Hey, Tsunayoshi-kun..."

Tsuna straightened up self-consciously, ducking away from Mukuro's hand in his hair. "I'm sorry you had to hear that," he managed. He knew. He knew he didn't always make the best decisions, and some of those decisions were probably going to bite him in the ass one day. Hopefully, they wouldn't all be on the same day.

Shaking his head, Mukuro leaned back on the bench again. There was a teasing smirk on his lips, but that was empty as well, as if he was simply doing what was automatic and comfortable for him. "Did you help Byakuran-san for my sake, Tsunayoshi-kun~?"

Slowly, Tsuna shook his head. "It wasn't just..." He sounded calm, but he wasn't looking at Mukuro as he replied. "I mean what I said. Killing someone doesn't automatically make everything all better."

Mukuro tilted his head to the side, looking for all intents and purposes like an inquisitive bird. His smile widened. "You're not telling the whole truth."

"He... was calling your name," Tsuna quietly informed his Mist guardian "Calling your name when he was on the ground and in pain, just... distressed that you weren't back yet." He looked into Mukuro's eyes, searching for some sort of a response.

Mukuro blinked. He looked at Tsuna, leaning in closer to see if Tsuna was, for once, joking, trying to get his revenge for the countless pranks Mukuro had played on him before. Yet Tsuna simply wasn't the sort to seek out revenge, was he? Especially not with such important information...

His lips twitched. And then he started to laugh, shoulders shaking, a hand covering his mouth to muffle the sounds. Through his chuckles, he said, "You're wrong."

It was Tsuna's turn to blink and stare. "Wrong?" He shifted so that he faced Mukuro properly, opening his mouth to protest and then snapping it shut again.

Reaching down, Mukuro tweaked Tsuna's nose teasingly, a fond smile curving his lips. "Byakuran-san and I aren't like you and Kyoko-san, Tsunayoshi-kun."

Tsuna felt a flush of warmth at the mention of Kyoko. He rubbed his nose and tried to suppress the sheepish smile the thought of 'him and her' brought.

"You told me that Byakuran-san likes you, Mukuro... It's true."

Mukuro threw his head back and laughed, truly amused this time. He shook his head, leaning forward and his smile was genuine now. "He likes me - that is true. But he's simply fascinated with me. I'm his playmate, the Black Rook to his White King. The moment I make a wrong move..." He mimed a slash across his throat, and then chuckled.

Despite the other man's laughter, Tsuna's eyes grew wide with concern. "Mukuro," came the startled gasp. "That- if that's true then why do you still..." " His eyes went serious. "Reborn didn't put you up to this, did he?"

Mukuro laughed again. "Thank you for worrying, Tsunayoshi-kun~" Despite the teasing tone, his gratitude was sincere; or as sincere as he could be anyway. "But that Arcobaleno has no place in this. I play this game for my own purposes." He tapped his lip, looking thoughtful for a moment before turning to Tsuna with a smile, "Well, in the other future, he killed me, didn't he? I'm just making sure he doesn't here."

By becoming Byakuran's lover? Tsuna just... blushed at Mukuro.

"Well," he looked down and away from Mukuro once more. "I think it's working... whatever you're doing. I might be wrong, but I really think he wants you around."

I'd hate to think that I've been playing such a dangerous game without possibilities of a reward, Mukuro thought sardonically. Outwardly, his smile simply widened, and he nodded. "He does, in his own way. That's enough."

***

"Enough."

Hibari's voice was quiet, but only because he didn't have quite so much energy to spare. Most of his attention was spread between the parallel bars that drew sweat upon his brows, had his knuckles bone white. And the floor. Let's not forget the very close floor.

The room was all but empty, save for Yamamoto hovering right next to him, and at the moment, those hand supporting his back and chest were not at all needed or appreciated.

"Let go," Hibari growled, voice barely audible and still hoarse despite having woken up for a few days. His legs were shaking, and his arms were in no better shape, but his pride refused to allow him to let Yamamoto help even further.

Yamamoto bit his lip, but he didn't make a verbal response. He simply made sure to let go slowly, in case Hibari was still unstable, then stood up again. Much as he wanted to coddle Hibari, it wouldn't do the other man any good, and they both knew it.

Gritting his teeth hard, Hibari pushes himself forward, forcing his sore, tired legs to take just one more step. How pathetic; he couldn't even walk a hundred meters. It was inconceivable and illogical that he should be weaker after his illness was cured, yet...

His hands were slowly losing their grip on the metal bar, due more to the sweat on his palms rather than weakness alone. He hissed, entirely irritated, and gripped on harder, pushing himself to his limits and beyond.

A few more steps, and Hibari would reach the end of the bars. A few more steps, and Yamamoto would gently coax him back onto the bed, because he'd refused the wheelchair outright, as if it would only serve to parade his weakness; the parallel bars had to be set up in his room instead, on the condition that he would not try to use it without another person there.

Yamamoto didn't try to make small conversation now, not when Hibari was so evidently frustrated with everything. In stark contrast to when Hibari was in coma, and the silence had been stifling, it was all right now. He just smiled when Hibari finally reached the end.

Hibari blatantly ignored the proffered hand, exhaling in a sharp huff before trying to turn around, knuckles white against the bars. The world was swimming in front of him again, but he tried to push the dizziness away nonetheless, determined to proceed. His body had always obey his wishes, and he refused to bow down to its limitations now.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he breathed in. And let go of the bars.

He started crumpling to the floor and Yamamoto pulled Hibari back before his knees could give out completely. "Hibari," the other man sighed softly, holding him up so that he could find his footing again. Steadily, Yamamoto continued, "Come on, it's break time."

Instinctively, Hibari started to struggle against the arms around him. His vision was fading in and out, greying as the edges and his breathing came in short, shallow pants. Still, he refused to accept any help, and when he finally found his footing again, he gave Yamamoto a glare, angry and no little humiliated by how weak he was.

"Shut up. I'll do what I want."

Yamamoto looked from Hibari's legs back up to meet his eyes once more, and chose to ignore the first few words. "You will. But one step at a time, okay? You're already doing better than yesterday," he grinned briefly, but spoke seriously when he continued. "It'll take you longer to recover if you keep pushing your body too hard."

"I said shut up," Hibari's voice was barely a murmur, his hand clenching loosely around Yamamoto's shirt as he tried to stabilise himself without the other man's help. Those words, rather than reassuring or comforting him, were only irritating him even further. He was not someone who needed their feathers soothed and be cooed over.

His knees threatened to buckle again, unused to holding his weight and too tired from his exertions.

"I said it is break time," Yamamoto responded after a pause. "I'm not telling you to stop for the day. Just for lunch." He was learning rather quickly to ignore people when they told him to shut up.

Hibari's eyes slid shut for a moment, exhaustion creeping over him but he shoved it away quickly, forcing his eyes to open again. He looked at Yamamoto, scowling furiously still but he nodded once, sharply - it was as much assent as he would ever give.

Yamamoto smiled back, shifting a hand from under Hibari's shoulder to wrap around it instead. "Come on then," he said as he slowly led the other man over.

Left. Right. Left. Right. That's right...

Hibari's eyes were closed, and he was swaying a little dangerously. But he continued walking, taking each step out of sheer, dogged determination if nothing else. Yamamoto's hands on his shoulders actually did help, loathed as he was to admit it. In fact-

He hated this entire situation. He hated how weak he was; how weak he had gotten and how he was before, to not even be able to finish the job and kill that Byakuran bastard before Tsuna had the chance to save him. Anger was his default status nowadays, and it didn't help that he wasn't recovering as fast as he wanted himself to.

"Here we go," Yamamoto pulled the blanket down, and loosened his grip around Hibari, so that the other man could move onto the bed by himself. Eyeing the clock on the wall, he noted that it was actually quite a bit past lunch time. It was funny how he hadn't noticed; the main thing was getting Hibari to actually give it a rest though.

Hibari ignored him for most part, barely finding his feet again as he stumbled towards the bed, nearly losing his balance again before sitting down on it. That short little walk had left him panting hard and sweating, his fingers and toes feeling cold and almost numb and his muscles aching.

He breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut in sheer aggravation.

Yamamoto couldn't help but reach out and brush Hibari's fringe back, and wipe the sweat off his brow. No one had dared to cut his hair in the last three months, not while he was in coma, and now that he was awake, no one wanted to bring it up if Hibari didn't do it first. He wondered if Hibari cared, or if everything else frustrated him so much that... It probably wasn't very high on his list of priorities, Yamamoto thought.

A soft growl, and Hibari reached up to bat Yamamoto's hand away. That touch simply reminded him of how long his hair had gotten; how long he had been in a coma; how much time he had lost. He glared at the taller man, lips pressed into a line before as he moved backwards to lean against the headboard again. His chest heaved from the effort.

"Don't touch me."

Yamamoto paused and just looked at him silently for a moment before retracting his hand.

"You're strong, Hibari. Whatever you're thinking... you could have died, but you beat Byakuran instead." He sat down on the chair by the bed, and started pouring him a glass of water.

Hibari took the glass of water from him with both hands, tilting the glass back to drink from it. He gave Yamamoto a glance before snorting under his breath, turning away and scowling even more furiously than before.

"I don't need to be comforted, Yamamoto Takeshi," he placed the glass down on the nightstand.

"Heh..." With a wry grin, Yamamoto responded, "It's the truth, Hibari Kyouya. Every time I come back here, you're doing better and better."

Come to think of it, Yamamoto didn't think he would be too surprised if he returned from a mission one day to find that Hibari had checked himself out of the doctors' care, and returned to his Foundation.

Turning his head away, Hibari breathed out explosively, his hands tightening around the cup. "Not quickly enough."

He wasn't used to being weak; being helpless. Limits had always been a near-alien concept to him, yet now he seemed to be learning more about them than ever.

"Well! Time to fuel up then." Yamamoto answered brightly, turning to the canteen that he'd placed on the table when he first entered the room. "Today's special is minestrone soup with pasta and pesto," he grinned. The doctors were very stern with their no raw food policy. "Haha, Bianchi-san wanted to show me how to make it, but Sasagawa-san reminded me we learned how in Home Economics. You remember? Did you ever learn how to make that in your year?"

Hibari shrugged at that. He had refused to eat hospital food, and for some reason he couldn't fathom, Yamamoto offered to bring him meals. "I don't attend those classes," he stated. "They are useless."

"Seems useful now," Yamamoto quipped. Carefully, he spooned some of the soup into a bowl, allowing it to cool somewhat before handing it over to Hibari. "Especially since you're not eating the food that the doctors prepare... What's wrong with it?"

Hibari took the bowl, bringing it to his lips to sip it. He shrugged again, tilting his head back to meet Yamamoto's eyes. "I don't eat bad-tasting food."

"Haha," Yamamoto smiled brightly at the probably-unintended complement. "Am I spoiling you now? Never knew you were a picky eater."

Hibari simply gave him a flat, impassive stare. "I only eat what I like, Yamamoto Takeshi. That had never changed."

"Then I guess I just naturally make food that's to your taste," Yamamoto laughed. He seemed pleased with himself. Or Hibari. Most likely both.

That got him a narrowed eyes and a glare. If Hibari wasn't so tired and without his weapons, he would have gotten a tonfa to the face by now. "You're presuming too much."

The other man blinked, and leaned closer, peering at him curiously. "Am I wrong?"

It took barely any effort for Hibari to reach out and literally push Yamamoto's face away from his. "That is inconsequential."

"Oh really?" Yamamoto's voice was filled with mirth, and his breath was warm against Hibari's palm. A second later though, his eyes grew wide and he caught Hibari's wrist gently. "Hey now... it's okay for you to touch me when you tell me not to touch you?"

He was teasing.

And Hibari immediately wrenched his wrist out of Yamamoto's loose grasp, pressing two fingers against the hollow of the other man's throat, nails dangerously close to his trachea. His physical strength might have failed him, but his reflexes were definitely recovering. "I have always done what I want," he intoned.

But there was none of the usual deadly intent behind his words, and Yamamoto seemed to sense it. Letting his hand close around Hibari's fingers, he asked evenly with a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

"So what do you want?"

Hibari's suddenly narrowed even further. He tried, lightly, to tug his hand away, but Yamamoto didn't let go. So he leaned in even further, the smirk growing a little more bloodthirsty as his voice dropped into a low, deadly growl. "Tell me what you meant by 'I haven't told you something you really need to hear'."

A look of shock wiped the smile from Yamamoto's flushing face, and he promptly let go of Hibari.

"Oh."

He blinked, looked down, re-focused on the bowl of soup in Hibari's other hand . "...Eat first. Soup's going cold."

Hibari let that hand fall back onto the bed, curling slightly around the bowl of soup. He tilted his head to the side, looking like a curious child. "You're avoiding the question."

He sipped at the soup.

Yamamoto laughed awkwardly, and scratched his nose, casting his glance aside. "No," he grinned sheepishly. "I'll tell you..." He trailed off and looked out the window.

Lifting the bowl, Hibari took another drink of the soup, chewing on the pieces of pasta and vegetables. But his eyes didn't leave Yamamoto, nearly boring a hole into his skin with its intensity.

The weather's been really nice all day, Yamamoto distractedly determined. He stood up and walked over to the window, peering out. I wonder where Hibird's flown off to- What do I say?!

"Answer me, Yamamoto Takeshi."

"Ah-" He looked over his shoulder towards Hibari with a shy tilt of his head. "Haha... It's funny," he turned around, scratching the back of his head. "It's not really supposed to be funny, but it's been easy to admit to myself and anybody else..."

He stepped away from the window as he spoke and carefully pried the empty bowl from Hibari's fingers, having the distinct feeling that if he didn't stop babbling soon, his love interest would chuck the bowl at him before he could even start to confess.

The thought just made the situation more amusing to Yamamoto, and he was hard pressed not to make things even more awkward by laughing like a nervous wreck. "But it's you, and... I really like you, Hibari. Really, really like you," he squeezed his hand lightly. "That's... the thing I wanted to tell you."

Hibari stared at him for a long, silent moment, taking in the nearly deer-in-the-headlights look, in the nervous tension running all along his shoulders and arms, in those wide, sincere eyes. Reaching outwards, he pulled Yamamoto forward a little more, scrutinizing him even further, trying to find out what his words meant.

He understood what Yamamoto was saying, in terms of the words alone. He has heard the girls say them enough, back in Namimori Middle School and during irritating occasions such as Valentine's Day. He knew what they meant, yet... Yet whatever Yamamoto was saying made no sense. Such affection – such weakness – was only for herbivores, and Yamamoto was a wolf, whether in sheep's clothing or not.

Breathing out a sharp, irritated breath, Hibari bit out a word, "Explain."

"Eh?" Briefly, as he was jerked forward, Yamamoto got lost in dark, curious eyes. He blinked, flustered by the attention. However much he had expected Hibari to stare at him in anger or incomprehension - or both - and however much he had expected Hibari to ask him just what he was talking about, Yamamoto was not prepared for that almost innocent look in Hibari's eyes.

It was almost as he couldn't fathom why or how anyone would like him.

"...Explain what exactly?"

Hibari only glared harder in response, gritting his teeth together and crossing his arms. He's getting more and more irritated by the second, simply because he didn't understand. "What do you mean, Yamamoto Takeshi?"

"By liking you?" He blinked slowly. Twice.

"I mean..." Yamamoto tilted his head, "at first, I thought it was just respect, 'cause you're strong and you look cool," He licked his lips as more words sprang to the fore. "You live by your own principles, and you never allow anything to hold you back if you can help it.

"I liked you as a fellow guardian. You don't hang out with us too much, but you were dependable. You're always there when the Vongola needs help, and... It felt nice, when you were around, 'cause you never ever wanted me to act like anything that I wasn't, and-"

Hibari shook his head immediately, cutting through the flow of incomprehensible words. "You're making no sense, Yamamoto Takeshi," he wasn't being harsh; simply matter-of-fact. "That is not my question."

He breathed out, confusion clear in his eyes as he looked into the other's dark ambers one, "Tell me how do you 'like' me."

"...As a friend. A colleague... A..." Yamamoto blushed and looked down briefly. He didn't know how to continue without sounding presumptuous, but he needed to say it. He started telling Hibari. He wasn't going to run away in the middle. "A potential lover," he said clearly, looking back into his eyes once more.

For a long, long moment, Hibari simply stared at him, still uncomprehending. A 'lover' - he had heard that word used before too. He knew what it meant, in terms of the dictionary definition at least. A soft sigh, and he tilted his head to the side, still scrutinizing Yamamoto closely as if those features and eyes could clear up the confusion he felt right now.

"Do you mean that you want to-" he made a small face, "have sex with me? Is that what you mean, Yamamoto Takeshi?"

"... Not... at the moment," Yamamoto responded with an eyebrow twitching slightly. "Not if you're not comfortable with the idea either," he quickly added. He didn't know how he knew. Hibari just... felt like a virgin.

"But you want to," Hibari stated, leaning forward slightly. "Is that what do you mean by 'lover'?"

"Ahaha, maybe 'boyfriend,' would have been a better word." Yamamoto scratched his head. "I want to, sometimes, but that's not all there is to it.

"I mean... I want to be close. I like... just talking to you. Just cooking for you."

Hibari shook his head, running a hand through his hair and he continued to stare at Yamamoto. "Do you want to be my lover or my servant, now?"

Yamamoto stared at him like he was wondering if it was a trick question. "...Your boyfriend."

Dropping back against the pillows, Hibari let out an explosive breath. "I don't know what you're talking about," he declare, visibly frustrated. "You are behaving like a herbivore, speaking of 'like' and 'lovers' and 'boyfriend' - crowding - yet you are not one." He narrowed his eyes at Yamamoto, eyes still swimming with confusion and no little annoyance. "Or are you?"

At that, Yamamoto gave him a wry grin. "I don't think I'm a herbivore, but then... I don't really think I'm a carnivore either. I'm just human, Hibari. I just... wanted you to know that I really like you."

Hibari gave him a dark, deeply irate glare. "If that's all you have to say, then get out."

For a second, Yamamoto didn't seem to be breathing. He went so still. Then, he relaxed, taking a deep breath. Soft laughter came out, and he drew back. "Thought you'd say something like that." He swallowed.

"Well," Yamamoto stood, putting on a neutral, automatic smile, and picked up the bowl, taking it over to the sink attached to the adjacent wall. "That's not the only reason why I'm here, so I'm not going anywhere just yet." He turned on the tap and washed the bowl mechanically.

Was that a rejection, he wondered, or was Hibari just annoyed and confused... and pissed off?

As he turned off the tap, he looked over his shoulder. "Hibari... Are you angry?"

Watching him as he puttered around the room, Hibari sighed, his hand clenching loosely around the sheets. "You were speaking of confusing things and being a weakling." A pause, and the next words seemed to have been forced out of him, "I... thought you were better than that."

Apparently not - the words rang out loud and clear between them.

"You're wrong." Yamamoto pointed out, "Whether you're an herbivore or not, it's human nature to gather people around you." He rubbed his neck as he spoke, trying not to take 'disgusting' personally. It wasn't meant as an attack. It just wasn't.

"And you're human, Hibari. You do it, too, with your Foundation, with your Hospital... with Namimori. You gather people around you like they're your pack. Does it make you weak? Do you wait for others to 'protect' you?" He shook his head.

"Affection... isn't a weakness in and of itself. It only becomes one if you allow it to go unchecked... and that's where discipline comes in. It... I understand why you might think it's disgusting, but it doesn't have to be."

Hibari pushed himself forward, away from the soft pillows. The effort made the world go black for the briefest of moments, but he ignored that. He was incensed enough by Yamamoto's words to ignore it.

It was simply too baffling, everything Yamamoto was saying. None of his words made sense in the logic of the world that Hibari lived in, where the strong and the weak were clearly delineated, and those few in between – such as the Vongola – all could be separated into their own neat categories and dealt with simply. Hibari lived in a world governed by reason and rules – his own reason, his own rules and none of what Yamamoto's words fitted into that.

All of this reminded him unpleasantly of when he first met Dino Cavallone.

"Don't confuse my Foundation with you herbivores," he gritted out, voice still a little hoarse. "They are mine like Namimori is mine – part of my territory. I don't let them crowd around me – only Tetsu can remain by my side, and he relays the orders. I am the leader."

He breathed out, hands trembling with sheer frustration and he clenched them even harder around the bed sheets. "All of you herbivores... depending on each other, relying on ridiculous things like friendship or affection, relying on each other instead of on yourselves." Blinking, he shook his head hard, dislodging the sweat beading on his lashes. "And you say that it isn't repulsive?"

"No," came the earnest reply. "No, it's not." Yamamoto seemed at a loss for words, except the words kept coming. "No man is an island, Hibari. You should know now - better than anyone - that there're times when you can't depend on yourself alone, when you have to rely on something outside of yourself in order to survive. Like right now! It doesn't mean that you've stopped relying on yourself, has it?"

Almost inconceivably, Hibari's scowl darkened further, and the deadly intent around him thickened to near-suffocating degrees. His smirk was almost malicious when he said, "Then, Yamamoto Takeshi, do you feel affection for the machine that cooks your rice, or makes your coffee?" He snorted softly, dropping back to lean against the pillows and closing his eyes. "You are being ridiculous."

"I..." Too late. "I'm not a machine."

Yamamoto squeezed his eyes shut, and turned his face away. It's not personal. It's not personal.

"I was talking about people," he tried to correct himself. "People who are part of your pack, your crowd... People who depend on you as a leader, or a colleague, or..." Yamamoto bit his lip, glowering at a corner. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "... I'm serious." It's not ridiculous.

And Yamamoto, in one way or another, was starting to make sense to Hibari. No matter how herbivore-like the terms the other man was using, there was a certain logic to his words that was getting through to Hibari. He was starting to see, if only a little, what Yamamoto was blabbering about.

Yet Hibari was proud and unendingly stubborn - he was right, he had always been right, and the world was wrong, and it was his duty to correct the world's misconceptions of things, whether with sharp words or steel tonfas. Scowling even deeper, he took a deep breath and pushed those betraying words away. He was not wrong, and he would prove that to Yamamoto in the only way that made logical sense to him when he could walk and hold his weapons again.

But for now, all he could do was to grind his teeth together, knuckles as pale as the bed sheets as he looked away. "Get out," he nearly spat out, and exhaled explosively.

And Yamamoto did just that, closing the door behind him without a sound.

TBC