He stood facing the window. He forgot how long he had been staring blankly out at the misty scene. He only knew that he now had every detail of the view from the window ingrained into his mind. To the left was the pond with three stepping stones and two swans, to the right were the pine trees whose tops were shrouded with mist. Below were fifty flat stones that formed a narrow path into the pine forest, and around these stones grew thirteen pear trees. And in the forest was the small garden that belonged to Tsu – no, he didn't want to think about that man just yet.

"Yamamoto."

In one of the pine trees, there was a bird that was ruffling its feathers in an attempt to warm itself. A squirrel sat on the branch below it, nibbling away at a pine cone it had picked up from the ground. A spider crawled across the window as another weaved its web in a corner. He almost grinned as he imagined the squeal the younger Tsun – no, he didn't want to remember that just yet.

"Yamamoto."

It was all like a dream. It was a dream he never wanted to leave. He didn't want to face reality; he didn't want to think about the fact that his best, most trusted friend was now dea – no, he didn't want to think about that just yet.

A hand settled down on his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the window's view. He wasn't startled; no, nothing could take him by surprise now.

"It's a letter. For you. From the Tenth."

Gokudera's voice was rather hollow and toneless, Yamamoto thought in the back of his mind. Like a robot, he took the letter from Gokudera and watched him walk away. He stared down the hallway long after Gokudera had disappeared before realizing he was holding something in his hand. To Yamamoto Takeshi, it said. He felt like crying when he saw the words; the handwriting was a painful reminder of the person who had left his life. He tore the envelope open as he walked to his room and upon arriving, he scanned the contents.

To Yamamoto,

I'm sorry.

Hopefully, we'll get to make it up later, right? Don't worry about it. It's not your fault, but mine. Keep watch over the girls and everyone else for me.

Tsuna

Make it up later? How?

How can you restore a broken friendship with a dead man?

He sat, arms wrapped around his knees, in a field of blue flowers that bobbed and nodded their heads as rain slashed down upon them. Yes, he's gone, the blue flowers nodded. And then, mockingly, they shook their heads, no, he's not coming back.

It was the worst Yamamoto had ever felt. He could have apologized; he should have apologized; if he had known Tsuna was going to die the next day, he wouldn't have lost his temper. If he had known Tsuna was going to die, he would have thrown his own life away to save him. Tsuna, the kindest person he knew; Tsuna, his best friend; Tsuna, the one who would never come back again.

"Tsuna," Yamamoto whispered, turning his eyes up to the sky. He stared unblinkingly up at the bleak, grey sky, ignoring the rain that pounded against his eyes.

A small funeral had been held, but they decided not to bury Tsuna. Gokudera had strongly protested against sealing the coffin in the ground, saying that the Tsuna from the past might accidentally be hit by the ten year bazooka. Strangely, Hibari agreed, threatening anyone who didn't with gleaming tonfas. That had settled the decision.

Yamamoto picked a blue flower as he got up slowly, heavily, as if he wanted nothing more than to stay in that field of blue flowers forever. He ambled across the field slowly, making his way to the forest. As he walked among the trees, hot tears burned in his eyes, hot tears like the ones he had shed that day his father had died.

He found himself in front of Tsuna's coffin. The Vongola crest shone on the lid, a reminder of what had been and what was lost. He tossed his flowers onto the coffin's lid, letting his mind wander away.

Yamamoto lay on his bed, eyes hot and dry, but lifeless.

His dad was dead.

It was just a few days ago, when it happened. It had been simple. Enemies attacked his old man in his sushi shop while Yamamoto was away. Shot him a few times. Came out of the shop. Left. Simple as that.

And simple were Yamamoto's feelings too.

I couldn't protect him. It's my fault he's dead. If I was there...

The door creaked open. Someone had been knocking for the past few minutes, but Yamamoto didn't care enough to notice.

"Yamamoto?" asked a timid voice.

Yamamoto's red eyes bored into the person at the doorway then looked away again.

"Yo, Tsuna."

"Are..." Tsuna hesitated. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," Yamamoto replied, slightly sarcastic.

Would it be different?

Tsuna sighed. "Yamamoto, you haven't eaten for days. Are you trying to starve yourself to death?"

"Oi, baseball-idiot, don't worry the Tenth! Stop acting retarded!" Gokudera yelled from downstairs, overhearing the conversation. A few pots and pans clanged about as Gokudera continued to tidy up the kitchen. The faint smell of soup wafted up to Yamamoto's room.

"Wouldn't you?"

"Tsuna... why..." Yamamoto whispered. The tears returned, mingling with the rain. He slumped down next to the coffin, leaning against it and looking at the grey sky. "Pathetic, huh?" he laughed bitterly. "You protected me, helped me, supported me all these years, yet I still-" Yamamoto clenched his fists. "I still," he bit his lip to calm himself down. "I still couldn't do anything."

The rain pounded down harder.

Yamamoto hated himself, hated himself for not being able to protect his best friend, hated himself for not protecting his old man, hated everything about himself at that moment. He wished he had managed to successfully throw himself off that roof that day back in Nanimori Middle School... maybe if he had... Tsuna wouldn't be dead.

It was all his fault.

He couldn't save anyone.

Tsuna, his best friend who had saved Yamamoto's life countless times was gone. Yamamoto's dad, the man who had led him through the dark moments of his life, was gone.

He couldn't save anyone.

Pathetic.

That's what he was.

Pathetic.

He was a loser. A weak, good-for-nothing loser, who was good at nothing but baseball and being able to swing around a thin, metal stick better than most people. No good at academics. No good at being a caring, concerned friend.

No good at anything.

Not one thing other than being those two stupid, stupid things that got him into this mess. That's just what made him Yamamoto Takeshi. And not someone who was good at everything. Like Gokudera.

The rain roared in his ears. He clenched his fists tightly.

What was he thinking?

He couldn't think these sorts of things, when there was a war going around him, when he knew the others felt the same way, if not worse. He couldn't be so selfish, so self-centered. It was unlike him.

And the exact opposite of Tsuna.

Tsuna, who was willing to die to protect all of them. Who did die. And if Yamamoto died, yes, Tsuna would be sad, would think that he could have done something, would have felt bad, but would he do this?

No.

Or maybe...

Yes.

"Eh?" Tsuna said, surprised.

"Wouldn't you act like me?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. If I had died, and you could've done something to stop it, but you didn't, you couldn't, wouldn't you want to die?" Yamamoto asked. "If your dad had died while you were out, and you came home and found him dead-" Yamamoto spat, "-dead on the floor with bullets in his head, and you knew that if you had stayed with him, like you should've, he'd be alive - wouldn't you act like me?"

"Yamamoto that's not-"

"That's not what?" Yamamoto snarled. "That's not true? That's not how it would be for you? You wouldn't feel bad?"

"Yamamoto, calm down, this isn't like you," Tsuna begged. "And that's not what-"

"You don't understand."

"Yamamoto, I do under-"

"Go away."

Tsuna looked at him with sad eyes. He sighed, stood up, and left, closing the door gently behind him.

Those were the last words Yamamoto said to Tsuna.

"Hell, on top of that, Tsuna," Yamamoto breathed out, "I was so stupid."

His dad's death was was just a few days before Tsuna's.

"I'm sorry, Tsuna," Yamamoto said to the coffin. "I never should have said any of those things. I'm really, really sorry." He clenched his teeth. What was talking to a coffin going to do? What was apologizing now going to do? Tsuna was dead... it was too late to say anything. Tears were falling from his eyes again as the rain pattered down on his shoulders. The wind blew furiously, the only sound accompanying the slash of the rain.

What am I supposed to say?

"I'm sorry, too."

Yamamoto jumped and whipped out his sword. "W-Who's there?"

The wind blew through the drenched leaves and the rain pounded in his ears. Yamamoto slipped his sword back into its sheath. "I imagined it, didn't I..." With one last look at the coffin, he stepped around it and began walking back to the headquarters.

"Because there's no other way I could have heard Tsuna's voice."

But, whether it had been his imagination or not, those three words had loosened the tight knot in Yamamoto's heart just enough.

The rain lightened up.