isoya

[Fic] Cinderella Transformation

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 05:50:43 GMT

Fic: Cinderella Transformation
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: Dino/Yamamoto
Rated: PG
Prompt: Dino/Yamamoto - crossdressing; "ahaha what a fun game" for khrfest
Warning: None
Summary: Dino gets dragged into a date courtesy of Romario.

Cinderella Transformation

Damn, how had this happened? Oh right, it was all Romario's fault, setting him up with a blind date and telling him that the he should start thinking about the future of the Cavallone family. His subordinate had assured him that he'd be nearby the whole time so there'd be no need to feel nervous. Dino, however, was fairly sure it was just to make sure that he wouldn't try to weasel out of the date or trip over his own feet and embarrass himself.

He wasn't really interested in a lover at this point. All his Cavallone duties and the occasional help to Tsuna and the Vongola kept him busy, but happy and energetic too. Plus he didn't think his significant other would appreciate a certain tonfa user who liked to drop in at random times (he later discovered that it was usually whenever Kusakabe came to visit) and try to "bite him to death."

Dino drank another sip of coffee and glanced carefully around at the women passing by, trying not to look too suspicious. Which one was she, he thought to himself. As chivalrous as he considered himself, he didn't think he'd be able to make one minute with girls like the ones Longchamp was into. They were simply too...too scary. But Romario wouldn't do that to him, or so he hoped.

"Hi, you must be Dino." He snapped out of his reverie at his name being called. He hadn't been paying attention at all after getting into his troubled thoughts. A girl with a wide grin on her face slipped into the seat across from him. She brushed her long bangs out of her eyes with one hand and clutched at her purse with the other.

"Ah, hi!" Dino exclaimed with a slight stutter. He gave his date a quick look over. Her jaw looked unusually strong for a woman, but it was nothing he found overly peculiar. "And you are...?"

"Yamane Takako." Her voice seemed a little strange, as though it was in an unnatural falsetto. But besides that, she had paused mid-syllable for just a moment, as if she hadn't remembered her own name. Was this a bad sign?

No-no, think positive, Dino reprimanded himself. It wasn't her fault that he was stuck in this position after all; that privilege went to Romario. He should at least attempt to be cordial to this girl.

"Umm," he scratched his head, trying to think of something to say next, "so what would you like to do today?"

"Anything's fine," his date smiled back. She seemed rather excited.

"Well, since we're here," Dino began, with 'here' being a cafe at the moment, "would you like something to eat or drink?" He handed her a menu the waiter had left on the table.

She had barely glanced over the menu when she replied, "How about some iced milk?"

Dino nodded and called a waiter over, ordering her drink and a refill of coffee for himself. Once the man had departed from the table, Dino turned his attention back to his date. She was rather cute, he had decided. Maybe he would enjoy today after all.

"What sorts of things do you like?"

"Baseball!" Takako exclaimed.

Dino laughed at her enthusiasm. "Really? What's your favorite team?"

"The Yakult Swallows." The waiter from before came back with a tall glass of milk, complete with a straw. Meanwhile, another worker came by with a coffee pot to refill Dino's empty mug.

The two of them continued their talk about baseball, a subject which Dino admittedly didn't know much about. He just asked the right questions to keep the conversation going, and his date was more than happy to divulge the answers. Takako was well-versed in teams, player statistics, and even coaches.

Dino was just glad that Takako didn't ask him about himself. His occupation as a mafia boss, for example, was not something he would like to divulge, and he also didn't want to lie if he could avoid it.

"So, where to next?" Dino asked his date once they were outside of the cafe. Dino had insisted on paying for their ridiculously overpriced drinks. He hadn't realized until they had stood up, but Takako was quite tall for a Japanese girl. She was about Dino's height with her high heels.

Takako placed a finger on her chin in thought. "Well, there's a park nearby."

From the corner of Dino's eye, he saw Romario's head peeking out from behind a tree. He was being awfully conspicuous wasn't he? Dino looked away quickly, only to spot another one of his subordinates sitting casually in an outdoor seat at the cafe they had just left. Were they all here?!

"Sounds good," Dino replied a little too eagerly. "Lead the way," he said with a smile.

After only a few steps though, he saw that his date was wobbling unsteadily on her feet. "Are you okay?" he asked with concern. He hoped she wasn't going to faint.

Takako let out a small giggle in response. "I'm fine. I'm just not used to wearing these kinds of shoes." She took another perilous step forward. Although she had skinny legs, her ankles couldn't seem to support them comfortably.

"You didn't have dress up for today."

"Why not?" Takako queried curiously, as if what he had said didn't make sense. "It's a date, isn't it?" As soon as she said this though, she lost her footing. She didn't gasp or squeal; she simply reached out for the closest thing to balance herself, which in this case was Dino's arm. He lurched forward at the sudden additional weight but managed to steady the both of them.

"Ahah," Takako laughed nervously, partially hanging off of Dino. "I guess it wasn't a good idea after all, huh?"

Dino gave her a cool smile. "Guess not." The two of them continued down the road, and Dino soon began to see the greenery of their destination far ahead. It didn't even float to the front of his mind that his date was still wrapped around one of his arms. He was too busy looking around suspiciously for more of his men in hiding.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dino saw Takako checking her watch. "Do you have somewhere to be?" he asked.

Takako nodded. "Yeah...actually, it's more like..." she trailed off.

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever heard the story 'Cinderella?'"

"Well, sure," he replied quizzically. Dino wasn't sure where this was going.

Takako scratched her head. "I guess it's sort of like that."

"Huh?"

"You know that part where she transforms back into normal clothes?" she queried. Dino nodded, still dumbfounded. "I have to do that too."

The mood of the date had changed so quickly; Dino was still so confused. He didn't understand the allusion she was making. Was there some kind of magical pumpkin waiting just around the corner too? "Are you going to leave now then?" he asked.

Takako looked at her watch again. "I should. I'm running late." She lowered her head in apology. "Sorry to cut things short."

Dino shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Can I at least get your phone number?" He pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

Takako laughed. "You already have it."

"Huh?" Dino blinked. "How could I?"

"You're really bad at recognizing faces, Dino," she laughed. "I thought it was obvious." Dino sputtered an apology as he scrolled through his address book, trying to figure out what she meant. There was no one in it with her name or face.

"I don't think it's-"

"I've been dropping hints the whole time." Dino's phone slipped from his shocked hands. Her voice had unexpectedly dropped an octave or two.

"Ya-yamamoto?!"

"Yup!" Yamamoto bent down to pick up the fallen phone with one hand while taking off his wig with the other. He laughed jovially. "I was sure you would've figured it out after all that baseball stuff."

"How...why..." Dino didn't take his phone back from Yamamoto's outstretched hand just yet; he was sure he was going to drop it again at this point.

"Ask Romario," Yamamoto smirked. "This was a lot fun, but I'm supposed to meet Tsuna in 10 minutes." He grinned. "I guess I don't have time to go change anymore. Maybe I'll just go like this?" He placed the wig back on his head and brushed the bangs out of his eyes.

"We should go on another date sometime," Yamamoto told Dino before putting the forgotten phone into the other's hand. He winked and blew the other a kiss for good measure. "I promise I'll dress in my regular clothes next time," he grinned before walking off, high heels and all.

Once Dino had returned to his senses, which must've taken at least 10 minutes, he turned around, back towards where he had last his head subordinate. "ROMARIO!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

---

A/N: I apologize to the prompt poster for making it so short. orz

[Fic] The Flow of Rain - Final Chapter

Sun, 23 Aug 2009 02:55:57 GMT

Fic: The Flow of Rain
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Hibari
Rated: PG-13
Warning: None
Summary: Set in an alternate universe, Yamamoto is an assassin for hire in Japan. While troubled by his lifestyle and his past, he crosses paths with one Hibari Kyouya on the job.

The last chapter! This one has a peek into Hibari's mind. As always, please enjoy!

The Flow of Rain

Kusakabe had never heard Hibari slam the shouji door closed so loudly before. He was worried the wood would splinter from the sheer force.

"Are you alright, Kyo-san?" Hibari had said nothing of where he had been going out to.

"I'm fine." He walked right past Kusakabe and went straight into his room.

'Damnit,' Hibari cursed in his head. 'I didn't think-' he cut the thought off before it could be finished. He'd deny it as much possible.

He still felt the weight of the key in his pocket. Even the kiss still seemed to linger on him.

Hibari hadn't thought he'd get so attached.

He was angry at Yamamoto for making him so confused. He hated it. He had wanted to beat the other to a pulp and be rid of him, but he hadn't been able to do it after throwing the first punch.

"Is this about that visitor?" Kusakabe asked. Silence. "Kyo-sa-"

"I need some advice." Hibari clenched his fists, back facing his subordinate.

Kusakabe blinked. That was a rare occurrence. Hibari usually preferred his own instincts. "About?"

"I have never felt this way about anyone, ever." He spat the words out so roughly, yet they were filled with things other than disgust.

Kusakabe recovered from his shock quickly. So even Hibari was susceptible to love.

---

The stitches were being undone by Shamal. Gokudera had gone off to run a few last errands before the trip home.

"What the hell were you doing? Boxing matches?" the doctor complained, poking at Yamamoto's bruised face.

Yamamoto smiled and rubbed at his cheek. "It certainly turned into that." Shamal rolled his eyes.

"You ready to leave this place?"

Yamamoto shrugged. "I guess so."

"Doesn't sound like you're very happy about your career advancement."

"I don't know what to make of it."

"The Vongola are good people. You'll be in good hands." Shamal conveniently forgot to mention that the family atmosphere was also often totally insane.

"I'm not worried about that," Yamamoto replied. "I'm just wondering if I have everything in order here."

"Regrets?"

"A lot of them."

"What is it, your old man again?" Although it was true that Shamal was often a dirty pervert, there was no doubt that he had many years of wisdom on him. He was a retired assassin, and he had reaped a fair share of lives in his days. Yamamoto also found it surprisingly easy to talk to him.

"Listen," Shamal began. He clapped his hands on Yamamoto's shoulders. "You lost your folks at a young age so you never figured this out, but lots of kids grow up without meeting their parents' expectations."

"I know."

"But their parents love them all the same." Shamal shrugged. "But don't ask me; I hate kids." When he said that, he pointed to Gokudera's desk and made an exasperated face. Yamamoto chuckled at that.

Shamal continued, "Look, your father sounds like a good guy. I don't think he wanted you to be a baseball player no matter what. He just wanted you to be happy."

"And if I'm not?"

"Well, that's why you're leaving, isn't it?"

"I guess so."

Shamal patted him on the back. "Good. Anything else Dr. Shamal can help you with? Illegal drugs? Breast implants? Love advice maybe?"

Yamamoto laughed. "That last one sounds good."

"Oh?" Shamal seemed interested. "You know, you could always send her to me..."

"I don't think she'd like that very much." Yamamoto left off the fact that it was actually a 'he.'

"Hmph, fine. Don't share." Shamal pretended to look indignant.

"Well, I'm leaving anyway," Yamamoto stated, more to himself, "It's probably best to leave as it is."

"I know what you mean. I must have broken thousands of hearts when I left," Shamal said, making overdramatic motions of distressed girls with his arms. "Ah, I regret it whenever I think about it."

"I thought you were here because you got kicked out for hitting on a queen or something."

"I can still have regrets can't I?!" Shamal exclaimed.

"Like what?" Yamamoto asked, clearly amused. "That you didn't hit on more women?"

"Exactly!" Yamamoto fell over laughing.

---

Yamamoto was standing in the former Takesushi again, spare key in hand. To his surprise though, the place had been thoroughly dusted and cleaned.

Hibari was going to watch over it as asked.

Yamamoto closed his eyes and inhaled. The restaurant still held the pleasant smell of the wood it was constructed from after all these years. If he imagined hard enough, the scent of fish and tea wafted through as well. It was nostalgic. Memories with his father began to float to mind. All the times they had played catch, all the times they had worked behind the sushi counter together...they were all there.

There was one more memory that rose to his mind. It was out of place with the rest. The time he had had sushi with Hibari.

Hibari was an enigma to him. The guy had punched him the face and then turned around and cleaned his father's restaurant. He could have just returned the key.

He'd never figure that guy out. And it would take some time, but maybe he could at least forget him.

Yamamoto opened his eyes. "I'll be back."

He set the painting of the swallow down in its original spot and left. It belonged there.

---

"Relationships require some patience," Kusakabe told Hibari sagely. He and his boss were having their usual tea time after a highly unusual visit to an abandoned restaurant.

"I have none." Well, that was true.

"Do you think he is worth pursuing?"

"I don't know."

"I think that you should try."

Hibari glared. "And what makes you say that?"

"Kyo-san, I have never seen you go out of your way for anyone else until very recently."

"What is your point?"

Kusakabe poured more tea into their cups. "You allowed yourself to change for him. And it was not just today." Kusakabe recalled being ordered by Hibari to go out and buy a series of very expensive items. Hibari had been specific about what he had wanted, and Kusakabe had been surprised to learn they were to be components of his boss' okaeshi. Such thoughtfulness had struck Kusakabe as incredibly uncharacteristic.

Hibari was silent, considering these words with a complicated face. He had probably not realized the extent of the peculiarity of his actions till now. Hibird, who was situated on its usual shoulder perch, was peering at its master curiously with its beady eyes.

To be completely honest, Kusakabe didn't want Hibari to give up. He had known his boss for more than a decade now, and not too many people viewed him favorably, much less cared about him on a personal level. Furthermore, Kusakabe had never met this man, but at the same time, he figured there must have been something special there to catch the attention of his boss. All Hibari needed now was a push.

"What is he to you?" Kusakabe continued.

"He is..." Hibari looked away, gazing at the garden revealed through the open shouji doors. "...my equal."

---

It was windy on the tarmac. The Vongola head had sent a private jet for them. Gokudera had already chewed Yamamoto out for taking so many boxes of stuff, saying that it was a burden to The Tenth.

"I didn't get my trips to a hostess club!" Shamal cried. Shamal wasn't directly related to the Vongola, so he would be staying in Japan. Gokudera had already tried to shove Uri on him, and Uri had already retaliated and caused him injury. No, the stupid cat would be leaving too. Shamal and Gokudera had already done their awkward good-byes, as both cared about each other deeply but were too macho and/or stupid to admit to such a thing.

"Haha, sorry about that," Yamamoto laughed. "When I come back to visit, okay?" Shamal sniffled.

"Hey Giannini, we ready to roll yet?" Gokudera shouted to the pilot.

"A-almost!" Giannini appeared from behind the jet. "I'm just tinkering with it a bit."

The cigarette in Gokudera's mouth almost fell out. "What?!" Obviously he didn't think this was a good idea.

Giannini skittered out of view before he could be further berated. Gokudera seethed, bending his cigarette between his teeth. Yamamoto laughed.

Gokudera squinted off into the distance. "Che, it's that guy."

Yamamoto turned around and tried to focus his eyes on the distant figure walking casually in their direction. "How...?"

"He came over to my place a couple days ago, making a big ruckus," Shamal explained. That probably explained the huge bruise on Shamal's face. It sort of matched the one that Yamamoto had received.

"He came and demanded information," Gokudera told Yamamoto, then went back to muttering things under his breath.

"And then that stupid cat tried to eat his bird, so he decided to try and destroy the place!" Shamal groaned, but he quickly turned it into a devious grin. "But I got him back good. Just wait till the next hanami." He rubbed his hands together evilly.

Yamamoto almost didn't hear them over the roar of the engine starting. He ran out to meet Hibari further down the tarmac.

"Yamamoto Takeshi," Hibari greeted once their distance had closed, Hibird on his shoulder like always.

"I...I didn't think you wanted to see me again," Yamamoto told him sheepishly.

"Who wants to see you? Maybe I just felt like taking a walk," Hibari replied, cool as ever. It was like last Friday had been forgotten.

Yamamoto laughed. "You're awfully far from Namimori to be taking a stroll."

"Perhaps."

"Hey! We have to get going!" Gokudera shouted over the huge amounts of noise.

"Okay!" Yamamoto called back.

Yamamoto lurched forward suddenly as Hibari grabbed the junction of his tie and jerked hard. Their faces were at the same level now.

"You asked why I agreed to go to dinner." Oh right, he had asked that, hadn't he?

"Yeah, ac-"

Hibari reeled Yamamoto in further and crushed their lips together violently. It was clumsy and rough, but neither participant seemed to mind.

The so-called kiss only lasted a few precious seconds. "My answer," Hibari murmured, his face still in close proximity and eyes dangerous as ever, "is the same as yours, probably."

Yamamoto was dumbstruck, but Hibari just smirked and released his grip on the other's clothing.

"I guess I've found a good way to shut you up," Hibari taunted while pulling out a business card and holding it out between two fingers. There was some writing on it, probably extra contact information. "Keep in touch." Yamamoto shook his head a couple times to get out of his stupor and snatched it up.

"Does this mean we're..." Yamamoto scratched his head. There was no real graceful way to phrase it. "Umm...together?"

"Think what you will."

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then."

"Hmm." Hibari straightened his tie, composed and in control as usual. "Be faithful," he told Yamamoto, a casual drawl in his voice but a challenging look on his face. He wasn't joking about that one.

"Can I have a proper kiss before I leave?" Yamamoto asked, feeling a bit too giddy right now to care about overstepping intangible bounds.

Hibari frowned. "And what does that entail?"

"Oh," Yamamoto blinked. "Like this."

Hibari eyed Yamamoto's arm suspiciously as it curled around his waist and pulled him against the other. Yamamoto kissed Hibari again, although this time with much less force. He made this one last, sealing their mouths together for as long as he could. As he pulled away, he nibbled at Hibari's lower lip.

"I guess a 'proper kiss' is better..." Hibari stated, his eyes not quite meeting Yamamoto's. It was quite cute, and Yamamoto laughed.

The Vongola jet revved its engines again.

"I...guess I should go." Hibari simply nodded.

"Are..." Yamamoto hesitated, "Are you sure you don't want to come with me?"

"That decision does not change."

"I understand," Yamamoto replied, although he was a bit disappointed. Still, he couldn't expect the other to drop everything in a matter of minutes. "I'll come back and visit as soon as I can," he promised.

"Goodbye, Yamamoto Takeshi."

Yamamoto slid his arm off Hibari's waist and stepped back. And he smiled at the other, a mixture of reluctance and hope contained within his expression. "See you around, Hibari." Hibird flapped its wings furiously, as if waving farewell to him. "You too, Hibird," he laughed.

He ran back towards the jet, but he had been looking back most of the way. It was a wonder that he hadn't crashed straight into the wheels.

"Come on, Gokudera," Yamamoto laughed. Gokudera's face had gone pale, and the cigarette had fallen from his open mouth. Shamal didn't seem particularly stunned, at least not to the extent of Gokudera. He just chuckled and patted Yamamoto on the back, saying, "See you around, kiddo."

"W-wait for me!" Gokudera suddenly exclaimed, scrambling up the stairs onto the jet. Yamamoto and Uri followed him on. Shamal moved back from the jet.

"So...you and him, huh?" Gokudera asked awkwardly.

"Yeah, I guess so," Yamamoto replied, grinning like a kid with candy.

"You guess s-nevermind." Gokudera reached for a new cigarette. He didn't want to know.

"Prepare for take off!" The man who was apparently known as Giannini exclaimed.

"You ready to join the Vongola family?" Gokudera questioned once he had lit up.

Yamamoto grinned. "I sure hope so."

He turned to gaze out the window, and his eyes didn't move from that spot until the clouds had covered up Japan. For some reason, Hibari floated to mind whenever he thought about clouds, and the idea of the other conquering Japan made him chuckle a bit. Gokudera had shot him a suspicious look for that.

Yamamoto felt a little sad to be going to Italy. He was leaving behind a lot. Friends like Shamal, Hibari, his old man. At the same time, he saw the necessity of getting away. He couldn't stay or he'd be drowned by his self-pity and his past choices. At one point in time, he wouldn't have minded that, but he didn't want it anymore.

While standing in Takesushi, he had promised to himself that he'd get stronger. For everyone he was leaving behind. He didn't want to feel helpless like the day his father had died ever again. He'd gain the strength behind the flow of rain; the ability, he believed, to wash away tears, pain, and even his own regrets.

--- Epilogue ---

~One year later~

"What's the report for today, Reborn?" Sawada Tsunayoshi swiveled around in his chair.

"The Cavallone family has found us a new recruit."

"Dino? Why would he do that?"

"He says that the person expressed a very pointed interest in joining the Vongola." Reborn slipped the file to Tsuna.

"Hibari Kyouya." Tsuna shivered a bit. "He looks kind of scary. What are your thoughts, Reborn?"

"I think he could be an invaluable addition to the family. From what I understand, he has exceptional combat ability, possibly better than Yamamoto's. He also has his own group of men."

"Hmmm," Tsuna looked over the file a bit more in depth. "Why request us though? The Cavallone family is also a very respectable family, and they have some ground in Japan."

Reborn held in a sigh. Tsuna was only intuitive regarding certain matters.

"I believe there are some ulterior motives involved, Tsuna."

"Like what? Spying?"

"No, something of the more...amorous nature."

Tsuna's cheeks tinged a bit pink. "Where did you get an idea like that, Reborn?" He shook it off. "Anyway," he cleared his throat, "I will fly him up for an interview at your recommendation. Is that all?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well, you are dismissed." Reborn nodded and placed his fedora back on his head before leaving.

Things were getting interesting around here.

---

<3
- I had an idea for Hibari's yakuza tattoo as well...and then I forgot how I had envisioned it. orz

- I'm curious; how many of you are coming from the hitman_reborn comm, and how many of are from the yamahiba comm? ^^

[Fic] The Flow of Rain - Chapter 5

Sat, 15 Aug 2009 23:50:05 GMT

Fic: The Flow of Rain
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Hibari
Rated: PG-13
Warning: angst?
Summary: Set in an alternate universe, Yamamoto is an assassin for hire in Japan. While troubled by his lifestyle and his past, he crosses paths with one Hibari Kyouya on the job.

Hit and Run

Yamamoto had gotten the hit request the day after Hibari had accepted his invite. This one happened to be right within the urban area of Namimori.

From what he had found out through a little snooping, the man always stayed late in his office, sometimes staying overnight, which was a very convenient thing for him. The thing that was not so convenient, however, was that he had already been the target of assassination attempts in the past and was now heavily guarded these days.

The business his hit ran on the outside seemed to be quite small; the building it was situated in was only one floor, a rarity in the city area. That left the question as to how the man had managed to make enough money to afford all those men. Yamamoto figured that the hit had something to do with a financial scandal of sorts. Perhaps embezzlement?

Despite prior knowledge, he had still underestimated the amount of guard detail on this hit by just a bit. It had been easy enough to break into the building though; for the record, having lots of bodyguards doesn't necessarily mean one can skimp on an electronic security system.

The inner areas, however, were not so easy. Thankfully a quick charge and a few blows to the wrists will quickly disarm any gun wielders, who posed the greatest immediate threat. He quickly went about knocking guns out of hands and then kicking them towards the perimeter of the room. He pitied the ones who immediately went after their guns; they obviously didn't have much combat ability to fall back on. But oh well, he struck them unconscious all the same.

Yamamoto felt a short knife lodge its way into his left side from behind, just next to the shoulder blade. He gritted his teeth and hit the ground, taken off guard, but he recovered by quickly by rolling away from the mob. The knife was still implanted in his back; he didn't have time to dislodge it.

He ran in and delivered a high kick to one man's chin, sending him reeling backwards. He grasped Shigure Kintoki with both hands, although his left shoulder was screaming at him with every small movement, and continued the process of knocking as many of his opponents out of the way as possible while making a beeline to his target.

Yamamoto didn't have much time. The pain in his shoulder was starting to overwhelm his left arm, and he wasn't sure he could continue fighting with one out of commission. The rest of the henchmen that hadn't been rendered unconscious, meanwhile, had figured out that if they continued to agitate the wound area, then well, Yamamoto definitely wouldn't be able to make out alive.

Yamamoto brought the sword up. Shibuki Ame, he thought to himself, and he spun around, throwing back the encroaching mob. He felt a little dizzy from the move as well as the blood loss, but he charged forward, accidentally stepping on some fallen guy's face in the process. Oops.

His target was just now in the process of escaping. Yamamoto had to wonder what had taken him so long; his henchmen had taken Yamamoto a while to break through. In one solid motion, Yamamoto delivered a deep diagonal slash to the chest. It was just like in the old samurai shows he used to watch, but it was practice that ensured that it was a one-hit kill. The target fell backwards, clutching the wound. He made choking noises as the blood began to fill his lungs. He wouldn't make it to the hospital.

Yamamoto shattered the nearby window with his good shoulder, covering his head with his corresponding forearm. He swiped at the bottom with his sword to break off the large shards of glass still jutting up. He hopped out, thankful that it was a fairly large window and that he was on the first floor.

He ran off into the night.

---

Yamamoto was careful not to drip blood on the floors; his shirt, however, was not so spotless. Luckily he had come back at a good time; the last trains had already brought any drunkards back home, so no one had seen him.

He burst into his doorway, hunched over and breathing hard. Yamamoto staggered to his bathroom, got into the shower, and turned the water on. He reached over with his right hand and dislodged the knife from his back with a grunt of pain. He let it drop from his hand to the floor in front of him. It made a loud clatter before coming to rest in the blood-water mix.

Yamamoto struggled to get his clothes off with one hand. The shower was dousing him with water, and his wound stung like hell. He dumped his wet jacket on the shower floor, followed shortly by his shirt. The water from the shower ran smoothly down the drain, but not before collecting blood from his body and discarded garments along the way.

He kept himself propped up by one hand. His left side still screamed in pain. He was dizzy, he was breathing hard, he was panicking just a little. He felt a bit thirsty; was he going into shock? It had been such a small knife, but he was bleeding so profusely. Why hadn't he gone directly to Shamal?

Stay calm, he ordered in his own mind, just like he always did. Everything was fine, he tried to convince himself. He kicked everything out of the way and laid down in the tub, his face directly under the showerhead. His knees were bent, and his feet were planted flat against the shower walls because of his height. He shut his eyes.

The water pouring down felt like the rain. It was a calming sensation to him, even though he had every right to be frantic given the huge gash turning the water red. He ignored his current predicament, fading away. It felt as though time was slowing; he could distinguish every droplet splashing on him.

It had been raining hard the day his father had died. It had been tsuyu, the muggy summer rainy season. He had been sprawled out on the school's rooftop much like this, holding an arm over his face. He had wanted so much to disappear, to have the rain wash him away. But it didn't. It only took the tears. And by the time he had left his spot on the roof, he had run out of them, feeling like an empty, soggy shell trudging down the stairs.

To most people, that kind of memory wouldn't seem to be very soothing, but it was for Yamamoto. It reminded him heavily of his father. He had lost a certain sense of calm after his father's death, taking on a dangerous profession. He always associated those carefree days and the dreams of baseball with his father. It was tranquil to him, like the steady flow of rain falling from an overcast sky.

Yamamoto's right hand grabbed at the bathtub's edge, and he used it as leverage to get up. Extraneous droplets of water fell from the tips of his bangs and into his eyes, stinging them. He shut off the shower.

He couldn't die. Even if the pain was enough to wish for death, just like on that day, he had to stay alive. He was waiting for the rain to take him.

He left his clothes in the shower and grabbed a towel. He did a quick job of drying himself off, then held the towel over his wound and applied pressure. He'd probably have to bleach the towel later. He sucked in a breath at the pain.

Yamamoto dug out his first aid kit with his left hand despite his upper muscles' protests. His right hand, in the meantime, never left the towel. He opened up the kit and brought out a surgical needle donated by Shamal, some fishing wire, and a pair scissors.

The needle itself was curved, which Yamamoto found kind of cool. He held the pointed end between his teeth and after much trouble, managed to thread it. Fishing wire definitely wasn't the standard, but he couldn't tie suture knots closed because he wouldn't be able to reach. He used his teeth and free hand to tie a few simple knots on one end of the wire to make sure it didn't slip through his skin.

He went back into the bathroom and let the towel drop to the floor. Yamamoto turned his back to the mirror for a better view. Using his own reflection, he poked precariously beneath the skin, wincing at the pain in the already agitated area. The needle resurfaced on the other side of the gash.

Yamamoto continued this process until he had made a crossed pattern in the shape of uneven and misshapen x's. Leaving a couple inches hanging, he cut the other end of the wire.

Next, he applied some rubbing alcohol using cotton balls. He dabbed gently, but it still stung as soon as it touched skin. The cotton balls were stained red when he tossed them into the trash.

Yamamoto put a gauze pad over the wound, balancing it on his back so that it didn't slide off as he got the bandages together. The gauze and bandages made his mind briefly wander to Hibari, who had refused them for some unknown reason. He held the end of the bandages between his teeth, just like the needle, and carefully unrolled it, weaving under his arm and over his shoulder several times at various angles. When he was done, he tucked the ends in underneath the wrap.

It would have to do for now. He'd go see Shamal about it tomorrow. He hobbled over to his futon and laid down, too tired to put on clothes. His pillow started absorbing the water from his still-wet hair, and he sighed.

How long could he keep doing this? He seemed to be getting more careless as time went on, and that of course correlated with the severity of his wounds.

From what he had heard, getting out of the assassination business could prove to be tricky. Laying down one's weapon could instantly make them the next target due to grudges, or a fear of people squealing once they had gone clean. Besides, without mentioning his only job experience, he would look like an unskilled bum. Hadn't gone to college and (supposedly) hadn't worked in the last few years. He was half proficient in making sushi, but that wasn't good enough either. He'd probably be stuck as a convenience store worker for a long time. Although he didn't really like this constantly getting injured bit, he didn't think being a store worker would keep him entertained for very long anyway. He'd be smiling fake smiles all day, just like he was now, pretending like he wanted to help people with their trivial purchases.

He had tossed away his chances at being normal a long time ago.

It seemed that for many assassins, there was only one way out: a lonely death.

He pulled up the covers and went to sleep on his uninjured side.

---

"Not bad I guess," Shamal commented on the stitches. "They served their purpose well enough. It'll probably be better to give you real ones though. How's your arm?"

"It moves okay," Yamamoto replied, although it hurt to move it too much. "I don't think the knife hit anything vital."

Shamal nodded and went back to making preparations for the stitching.

Gokudera leaned back against his workstation. "Getting yourself killed again, huh?" He felt the miniscule tension from the stitches disappear as Shamal snipped them in half.

"Something like that," Yamamoto laughed. Gokudera sighed at his idiocy and lit another cigarette. Uri hissed from under Gokudera's desk.

"You still owe me a trip to a hostess club," Shamal complained. "I think this fix up should count for another one too."

"Dirty pervert," Gokudera muttered under his breath.

"Psh," Shamal retorted. Then he whispered to Yamamoto not-so discretely, "Just because he's leaving, he thinks he can insult me as much as he likes. Well, I say good riddance!"

Gokudera seethed. "What was that?"

"By the way," Yamamoto interjected, raising his voice. The two turned to look at him. "I've decided to accept Reborn's offer."

Gokudera and Shamal both looked equally shocked.

"Right, I forgot about that," Gokudera commented, recovering first. "I'll let my boss know." Gokudera looked at his watch and calculated the time difference in his head to make sure he wouldn't be waking them up. He grabbed his phone and moved to the other room, Uri close behind.

"Any particular reason why?" Shamal asked once Gokudera's voice could be heard.

Yamamoto rubbed at his injured back. "I'll probably be dead before 30 if I continue like this."

"Personally, I think you're just in a slump," Shamal shrugged, "but I don't disagree with your decision.

"Your work with the Vongola though," he began, "might be something along the same lines. Are you really okay with that?"

"They call it a 'family' right? I've forgotten what that's like." Shamal said no more.

---

Shabu shabu turned out to be an ingenious idea. Yamamoto hadn't considered this, but Hibari couldn't critique his cooking this way. The only thing that he could possibly take issue with was the tea.

Shamal had given him a sling for his arm just in case, but Yamamoto wasn't using it. He didn't really think it was necessary as long as he didn't over exert it. The stitches would come off in a couple of days with any luck. Yamamoto rubbed at his left shoulder, but stopped when Hibari eyed him suspiciously.

"How is the tea?" Yamamoto asked, trying to divert attention. Hibari's bird was perched on his kitchen counter singing that same song as before.

Hibari plucked a piece of beef from the pot. "It's fine."

The two of them ate quietly, never taking each other's food. Yamamoto wasn't deterred by the silence. It just seemed to be the way Hibari operated. A man of few words. Yamamoto kind of liked that.

Yamamoto put down his bowl of rice. "I've decided to move to Italy next week."

He had packed up most of his things already, working fast despite his shoulder injury. The boxes had either already been transferred over to Gokudera and Shamal's place, or they were currently hiding out in his bedroom. He was slowly going through the process of throwing out or giving away unnecessary things.

Hibari, in response, put down his chopsticks, neat and together just as before. "And why are you telling me this?" Hibari asked coolly.

Yamamoto shrugged. "I know we're not friends," he spoke, "but I guess I just felt like telling you." Yamamoto picked up his chopsticks again and went back to eating his rice while watching Hibari in his peripheral vision.

Hibari did not move. He was staring at the pot of boiling water, although his eyes appeared disinterested. Yamamoto had to give the other credit for sitting in the seiza position the whole time; that had been an unpleasant experience in his kendo lessons from his father. He much preferred sitting cross-legged.

"Why?"

"I need to get away from things. Start over, you know?" What was Hibari thinking? He didn't know. He found the mystery very intriguing, like a game. That too, was part of the attraction.

"Leaving the assassination business?"

"Well, we'll see. I'm joining the mafia."

Hibari took a sip of tea. "In that case, why not join the yakuza?"

Yamamoto fell back onto the floor behind him. Hibari shot him a look of annoyance at the lack of formality but let it go. Yamamoto laughed. "I promised my old man I wouldn't...although I guess what I'm doing now is not much better."

"And your father has no opinion about the mafia?" Hibari asked, one eyebrow raised. He was skeptical, Yamamoto could tell. The mafia were sort of along the same lines as the yakuza...they just had different locations of operation.

Yamamoto shrugged. "I don't know. He's gone now."

"...I'm sorry," Hibari told him, although Yamamoto felt that the apology probably had more to do with Japanese etiquette rather than actual regret. He was fine with that though.

"It's been awhile," Yamamoto told him, staring up at the ceiling. Hibari said nothing.

"Hey, Hibari..." Yamamoto sat up suddenly, "Why don't you come to Italy with me?"

"I have no interest in leaving," Hibari replied stoically.

"It was worth a shot," Yamamoto said, shrugging and laughing. "Okay, next question..."

"What makes you think I want to play games with you?" Hibari interrupted.

"I guess you don't have to answer if you don't want to." Yamamoto pretended to consider things, one hand stroking his chin as if in deep thought. "I was just wondering why you decided to accept my invite to dinner."

"Well, you offered."

"That's not a good reason," Yamamoto replied, amused. He sat up. "You said no first."

"I changed my mind."

"Yeah, but why?" Yamamoto pushed.

"Is there a reason I should have refused? Perhaps I should be asking why you invited me instead," Hibari told him sharply.

Yamamoto laughed nervously. "Ah, that is-"

Hibari grabbed him by the front of the shirt. "Maybe I should bite you to death."

"Well, why do you think I invited you?"

Yamamoto winced as he was shoved into the side of his couch. His wound protested the force of the impact.

"I have no idea."

Yamamoto blinked at him. "You really don't?"

Hibari looked very much annoyed at that question, as though he felt he was being mocked. "I dislike crowding, and yet you keep approaching me. Its infuriating."

"You didn't have to agree," Yamamoto grinned.

"That's the most irritating thing of all."

Yamamoto was surprised to hear Hibari actually admit to coming of his own volition.

"Hibari, you-" He was cut off by the other shoving him to the floor. "Ouch, easy," Yamamoto groaned, right hand moving up to cradle his injured side. Hibari hovered over him.

"Shut up." Hibari gripped Yamamoto's left shoulder and pressed hard. He didn't grab it spot on, but it was enough to make Yamamoto wince. "This?"

"I got injured on the job," Yamamoto told him with his usual grin, as though it was nothing big. Hibari seemed displeased but finally relented after a few awkward moments, and Yamamoto sat back up.

He shivered when slender fingers ran over the fabric where his stitched wound was underneath. The appendages were warm due to the residual heat from the now forgotten shabu shabu pot.

"I need a favor from you, Hibari." The hand pulled away.

"Oh?"

Yamamoto reached into one of his pants pockets and pulled out an envelope. It looked like it had a bit of weight to it as the top was warped downwards by gravity. "Here." He offered it to Hibari.

"What is it?" Hibari took it from his grasp.

"It's the key and address to my old man's restaurant." Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry to trouble you, but...could you check up on it from time to time? I won't be able to take care of it since I'm leaving."

Hibari observed the package in his hand for a bit longer. "You must have been close." He placed the envelope in his suit's inner pocket.

"It was a long time ago."

"And yet you still think of him."

Yamamoto blinked. That had been an uncharacteristically observant statement from Hibari. It had sounded poetic, even.

Hibari checked his watch. "I should be going." He caught Hibird's attention, which soon flew over to its usual shoulder perch.

"Ah." The two of them stood up together. Yamamoto followed Hibari to the door.

"Is this goodbye?" Yamamoto asked. Hibari said nothing. "Maybe I'll see you again," Yamamoto told him, smiling.

Hibari nodded and turned to start his walk down the hallway.

The other hadn't taken a full two steps before, "Wait." Yamamoto grabbed Hibari's arm, and the other stopped and turned to look at him. It didn't register in Yamamoto's mind at all that his hand wasn't being brushed off.

"I," he hesitated, "I didn't answer your question."

"No, you didn't."

In a moment, Yamamoto threw caution into the wind. He had weighed everything in his head. Even if things went bad, he was only here for one more week anyway, he had reasoned to himself moments before his hands clasped Hibari's cheeks and Yamamoto brought their lips together forcefully. He trapped Hibari between him and the doorway.

Seconds later, Hibari brought his hand up and punched Yamamoto on the side of the head. Hard. He didn't even need the tonfas to make it hurt. Yamamoto didn't have time to catch himself, and he collided painfully with the floor. His brain wasn't sure whether to have him cradle the back of his head or his face first.

The momentary stars in Yamamoto's eyes blocked his vision, but he heard the sounds of Hibird's wings flapping furiously and Hibari's calm footsteps walking down the hallway. The latter noise didn't run, but they didn't hesitate either. And Hibari himself said nothing.

Even though he had thought it all out in his mind, the rejection still stung.

Yamamoto sat up and sighed, holding his cheek. The water from the pot had already boiled down to nothing.

---

A/N: The next chapter will probably be the last. I feel as though this story has no clear climax...it all just turned into rambling, sorry! T_T

[Fic] The Flow of Rain - Chapter 4

Wed, 05 Aug 2009 15:25:12 GMT

Fic: The Flow of Rain
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Hibari
Rated: PG-13
Warning: angst?
Summary: Set in an alternate universe, Yamamoto is an assassin for hire in Japan. Beneath that smile, however, is tumultuous like a storm.

The Lonely Man

Yamamoto fixed up the door, and the landlord was none the wiser. There were a couple suspicious footprints on it that he had yet to scrub off though.

The payment for his services had mysteriously arrived at the vacant apartment the day after the incident with Hibari. Quite a large sum; he was set for a little while. He didn't have any jobs at the moment either, so there he was, relaxing on his couch.

He had to wonder about what had happened to Hibari. Had his attackers been targeting the boss like him, or had they been going for Hibari specifically? Maybe his own teammates had done it, though for what reason he had no idea. Any way he looked at it, Hibari being injured had definitely helped him out.

Yamamoto suddenly found himself in a cleaning frenzy. Was it because he had had a guest over for once? He had no idea. He got rid of all the empty instant food containers and organized everything. By the time he had finished doing all of that though, he had been too tired to clean the adjacent apartment too. Thus, the footprints and dust remained.

Yamamoto collapsed into his futon when he finally surrendered to the never ending battle against entropy. He turned his head so that it was facing the closet. The clothes were parted, revealing Shigure Kintoki resting in its sheath.

Right above it, however, was a large picture frame. It was hung on the back wall of the small closet, giving it the impression of a hidden shrine. He had taken it off of Takesushi's walls after his father had passed away. His father had treasured it. It was a painting of a perched swallow surrounded by beautiful flowers that Yamamoto could not identify. None of his customers had known the origin of it.

That painting was a copy of the tattoo on his father's back. Yamamoto as a child had liked to laugh and pound on it for some odd reason, but his old man had just laughed and picked him up every time. His father had been part of the yakuza up until Yamamoto was born. His father used to tell him about the spirit of yakuza as men who ensured justice. Then he would shake his head and tell him things had changed since then; so many more were interested in territory and underhanded trades these days than acting as vigilante enforcers of order.

His father was precisely the reason he knew so much in depth but sometimes outdated information about his targets. The last hit in particular, had been part of the group his father had belonged to (hence gaining the name "Swallow"). Yamamoto felt no guilt, the old leader his father had respected had long since left. Deceased or retired in some way; Yamamoto didn't know. All that had been left was a struggle between old values and the temptation of money and greed.

Was what he was doing justice? Hardly. He was more like a rogue. Good or bad, he killed them all. What would his father, who had heavily discouraged his son from following in his footsteps, have thought if he were still alive?

But Yamamoto knew deep down that he wouldn't have gotten into this business at all if his father were still here.

---

"So you ordered your own death?" The house was completely dark, but the windows were all opened and the doors were all unlocked. No security detail either. An open invitation. A cool breeze drifted in, blowing against the curtains gently.

"The money's on the table." The man's back was to him.

It was rare that they actually talked to him. Most of them preferred to be executed in their sleep. "Do you have any preferences?"

"I don't care. I'm lonely. I'm tired."

"Why not do it yourself?"

"Don't want to disappoint." The guy chuckled bitterly.

Yamamoto's grip on Shigure Kintoki tightened. Time to go to work. Like the cautionary tale against naming animals you intend on giving away, Yamamoto didn't like to get too close to people who were known targets.

"I'll make it quick."

"Thank you."

---

The job had been quite the train ride away. Yamamoto was on his way back now, taking in all the scenery. He enjoyed watching the big cities dissolve into the greenery the further away from the heavily urban areas he got. Quite a contrast within a small, crowded country, he always thought to himself.

The train was quiet. They usually all were. Using cell phones on trains was a no-no, but as far as he knew, there was no such rule about simple face-to-face communication. He found the silence a little eerie sometimes, but he had learned to live with it for the most part.

Yamamoto yawned and closed his eyes. The scenery whizzing by was making him tired. He decided to take a nap and hope that he woke up at the right stop.

---

Japanese etiquette dictates that if given something, one should give something in return as a thank you. This gift is called an "okaeshi," using the kanji for "to return something." Yamamoto had given out quite a few of these gratitude presents, especially after his father had died. Many of his father's old friends and customers had watched over him until he had gotten a bit older.

Still, Yamamoto was fairly surprised when he found a gift planted in front of his door when he got back. It was wrapped in a traditional furoshiki cloth. Said cloth was patterned with pale pink sakura petals on a dark purple background embroidered with gold thread.

Yamamoto opened his apartment and set the gift on the kitchen counter, giddy like a child. He wondered what kind of gift had been left for him. Maybe some delicious mochi? Judging by the shape and style of the wrap, it wasn't sake or anything of the like.

He pulled apart the simple knot that had been tied. He preferred furoshiki over wrapping paper; there was no tape to take apart, and they could be reused easily.

It turned out to be a sizeable amount of green tea powder. It was pretty good quality too; it was the type used in tea ceremonies. It was held in an airtight canister covered in nice washi paper. In conclusion, the price tag on this gift must've been huge.

The whole present down to the wrapping struck Yamamoto as very traditional. He liked it a lot. There was no name attached to the gift, but he was pretty sure he knew who it was from. After all, there were only two people he had helped lately, and the other one had already paid him for his assistance.

---

Yamamoto whistled. Hibari had quite a nice residence. It looked like it was from at least the Edo period, which made it stand out among the more modern residences. He wondered if it was some sort of heirloom in Hibari's family.

He had caved. There had been no way he had been going to be able to find Hibari on his own, so he had gone to some spies and informants instead. One unfortunate soul had been badly beaten by Hibari, but that probably meant he was bad at following and should consider a new career path anyway. Anyway, Yamamoto finally got the information he wanted in a couple days time.

So here he was at the impressive home of Hibari. It was a much different setting than Yamamoto's crammed apartment. He was a little jealous.

Yamamoto wandered casually over to the entrance, taking in the zen feel he got from the place. He knocked, but not too hard. The residence had a peaceful quiet to it except for the occasional clack from the souzu when the water's weight tipped it over.

He waited for some time, but he didn't knock again. Perhaps Hibari was not here? Yamamoto was about to turn and leave when he heard the soft patter of feet on tatami floors. Hibari slid the door open soon before long.

Hibari looked just as traditional as his home. He was dressed in a plain black yukata, held together by a thin red obi. It was a nice change from the well-pressed suit Hibari wore.

"Your agent was not very good," Hibari smirked, referring to the one that had been given a thrashing. His lips then shifted into a heavy scowl. "I don't like being followed."

Yamamoto shrugged. "How else was I supposed to find you?" he asked, grinning.

Hibari did not make a move to let Yamamoto in. "What do you want?"

"I just thought your okaeshi was a little expensive, so I was feeling bad." Yamamoto put on a sheepish face and put a hand behind his head.

Hibari didn't really seem to buy it. "For someone who supposedly saved my life, it doesn't seem to be that much, does it?" he replied sarcastically.

"You said you would've been fine without me," Yamamoto protested.

"What do you want?" Hibari cut in sharply.

"I dug up an old shabu shabu pot, and I was wondering if you wanted to come over sometime. I'll make some of the tea you gave me."

Hibari raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Yamamoto shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it just gets lonely sometimes."

"We are not friends, Yamamoto Takeshi." Yamamoto felt a chill run up his spine. Ahh, the feel of rejection. He sincerely thought that Hibari was going to slide the shouji door right then and there, but he didn't. He didn't so much as move, allowing silence to settle in the air.

"That's okay." Heck if he had wanted friends over, he would've invited Gokudera and Shamal (and Uri). Which left him to wonder...why didn't he?

Change of topic. "I hear you're leading a few guys that left the Ubo group." Yamamoto's informant had muttered something about it.

"This informant of yours appears to be very adept, unlike the other one." Hibari smirked.

"What kind of work are you planning on doing?" Maybe Yamamoto would get a rival? There weren't too many like him that used Namimori as their home base. For some odd reason though, the idea of a disciplinary committee floated to his mind.

"I haven't decided."

"Good luck with that." Hibari nodded. Yamamoto found it odd that the other, while refusing his invitation, didn't make any effort to shoo him out either.

"Well," Yamamoto took a step back. If Hibari was going to be uncharacteristically patient for once, then Yamamoto would be the one to cut off first. "I won't keep you any longer." He turned around and waved. "I'll see you around, Hiba-"

"Friday, 7:00."

Yamamoto looked back, clearly shocked. "I thought you said-"

"It doesn't change."

Yamamoto grinned. "Friday at 7 then." He didn't hear the shouji door close until he had left the perimeter of the home.

---

Yamamoto wasn't going to kid himself; he was definitely attracted to Hibari. In retrospect, he was being rather obvious about it too, doing things like making up a stupid excuse just to see the other. Heck, he had even sent someone to stalk him.

He sighed and continued browsing through the grocery store, looking for good deals on meat and vegetables. It wasn't like he was still 15.

Hibari had a certain feminine appearance to him that Yamamoto appreciated. Yamamoto attributed it mostly to his eyes, although his relatively long hairstyle certainly helped in this evaluation. Yamamoto thought that Hibari had the perfect look for onnagata, or the art of men impersonating and dancing as women (This was, of course, not an opinion he should or would vocalize in front of the other). He had seen a fair amount of kabuki plays, where all the actors are men, and some actors just did not have the right face shape to make convincing women.

But his delicate appearance betrayed his tough nature. Hibari was disproportionately strong when compared to his size. He got the feeling that the other had no problem in decimating those that annoyed him. Yamamoto would definitely have to be more careful in his approach. He sighed again. This was also assuming that Hibari even swung that way.

His constant loud exhales were attracting the stares of the other shoppers. When he finally realized this, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and wandered off to another part of the store.

His mind was telling him that he was being unrealistic, there were too many obstacles in the way, but the words that poured clumsily out of his mouth kept pushing forward. He really was acting like a hormonal teen again.

Sure, he had been in a few relationships before, but they had all ended the same: his significant other at the time hadn't felt particularly close to him. After awhile, they had all come to realize that a charming smile and a boisterous laugh from Yamamoto didn't necessarily equate to sincere happiness. Not anymore. In a way, he was like Hibari in that he had trouble trusting people, although the way they manifested this characteristic differed greatly in subtlety. On the other hand, at least Hibari was blunt about what he wanted, making him comparatively easy to understand.

Maybe Yamamoto really was as inept as he had been 10 years ago.

And just like a teenage crush, he always held that small hope that things would go his way.

However small that hope was.

He sighed again.

---

He rarely visited the family grave. It wasn't that he was ungrateful, it was just that he made many excuses not to go.

For the first few months he went everyday. It was very evident to him every time he went that many people had visited. As time went on, however, the number of people had waned. Eventually, he himself stopped coming so frequently. The grave today looked unkept, and Yamamoto felt guilty. He bent down and pulled at the taller weeds encircling the headstone.

Yamamoto thought back to the months following his father's death. It had been...a lonely existence. He had quit baseball club soon after, and his former teammates had eventually given up trying to convince him to come back. He ultimately became estranged from them, as well as their coach. Instead of going to what would have been his extracurricular activity, he had sat at the grave site every afternoon until dusk.

His father had always encouraged him to become a professional baseball player when he was younger. But most of Yamamoto's drive to do so died with his father. It wasn't that his father had been trying to live vicariously through Yamamoto or anything like that; he just hadn't realized how important all that cheering him on had been.

Yamamoto didn't like to show his face here. Had he failed his father? He often felt that way, but he just laughed and kept on his travels towards the next target. He had descended into the dark world of Japan, something his father had steered him away from. But Yamamoto hadn't known what else to do. Aside from baseball, he had had no other talents other than the way of the sword. Then, his father's old friend from his yakuza days had opened the door to this current life, introducing him to the world of assassination. The Shigure Souen style was something used for destruction, the man had said.

Today though, he was before his father, holding a new pack of incense and a lighter. He lit a stick and placed it down. Incense always had a nice scent to it. Maybe the spirits liked it too?

Yamamoto stood back up and watched the stick burn. He looked around the cemetary at other people who had come to visit loved ones. Many of them were on the older side; spouses or middle-aged children. He couldn't help feeling a little wistful when observing the age difference, wishing that he could have had more time with his old man. He turned his attention back to his father.

"Dad, I'm leaving."

I'd just like to say another thanks to my reviewers, especially the repeat offenders! ^^ I really appreciate them, even though I don't always respond.

[Fic] The Flow of Rain - Chapter 3

Sat, 25 Jul 2009 15:13:28 GMT

Ah, the more I read it, the more I start to dislike the progression of things, so I suppose I should put it out there before I change my mind haha. Thanks for the kind words.Enjoy!

Fic: The Flow of Rain
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Hibari
Rated: PG-13
Warning: none for this chapter
Summary: Set in an alternate universe, Yamamoto is an assassin for hire in Japan. Beneath that smile, however, is tumultuous like a storm.

Customer

"He's gone?" Yamamoto asked, seeming quite surprised.

Gokudera spun in his chair. He had his work table back at least. "Yeah, he must've woken up under the anesthesia and run off. At least he didn't steal anything." Gokudera had checked. Thoroughly.

"How could anyone sleep last night? There was that damn bird outside singing the whole time," Shamal complained, giving off another yawn. "Should've sent the cat after it."

"I wonder where he went."

"He probably shouldn't be walking around on that leg, but it's not my concern anymore," Shamal told him. "If he's smart, he'll take some down time." He pointed at Yamamoto. "And same to you. You gave a lot of blood."

"But I feel okay."

"Whatever." Shamal shrugged. "Just make sure you don't faint on the job."

Yamamoto grinned. "Not even I'm that careless. Besides, I don't have any targets right now."

---

Every once in awhile, Yamamoto brought out his father's knives and bought some fish from Takesushi's old providers. They were always glad to see Yamamoto and liked to joke around with him about when he was younger. He usually only made sushi for special occasions, like for Shamal or Gokudera's birthdays and such. At those times, even Uri got a few pieces of fish.

It was hard to cook portions for only one person, so Yamamoto often just ended up eating ramen, whether it be the instant sort or at a restaurant. Sometimes he had other things, like curry or American fast food, but he wasn't too picky.

The rice was almost done, just cooling off to the right consistency for sushi, and Yamamoto was carefully cutting up the raw fish. He had already prepared the assortment of vegetables, and the pack of nori from the store was sitting off to the side, but he hadn't really decided what kind of sushi to make. Well, if he felt really bored, he'd just experiment a little. He'd create the Yamamoto roll, he declared jokingly to himself.

As previously stated, the walls in the apartment weren't that thick, and Yamamoto began to pick up a noise from outside. It sounded like someone pounding on one of the neighbors' doors. No...it sounded more like they were pummeling it down. Curious, he put down the knife in his hand and went to go take a peek.

It wasn't his door, that much he could tell, but as he got closer to his own entranceway he realized it was coming from next door. Specifically, the vacant spare apartment under his name.

Yamamoto opened his door and stepped out just in time to see the other one being kicked down, effectively tearing the hinges off the frame. He winced. He was going to have to pay for that.

"Hi there," he greeted cheerfully, although his mind was still on paying the landlord.

Hibari stared at him a good long moment, then had to check the apartment number of the place he had just broken into. Nope, it was still correct.

"You can just leave it like that," Yamamoto laughed. Hopefully he could fix it himself later and no one would complain. "No one's living there."

The yellow bird, which had been flying previously, perched on its master's shoulder. Hibari reached into his suit's inner pocket and pulled out a small card. "There's a typo," he stated before storming past Yamamoto and tossing aforementioned card in his general direction. It fought against the air but only ended up at its target's feet. Yamamoto picked it up.

It was the business card he had conveniently slipped into the other's wallet. He actually had two sets of cards, one for regular everyday people, and the other...well, the other one had a slightly different job description on it. Gokudera used to tell him he was pretty meticulous for an idiot.

"Would a hitman put his real address?" Yamamoto grinned. He would have invited Hibari in, but the other man had already done that on his own.

"So you use the one next door?" Hibari challenged.

"Well, yeah," he replied. Hibari gave him a look containing a combination of exasperation and displeasure, but then his attention turned to being disgusted at the state of Yamamoto's apartment.

"Why did you give me that card?" Hibari glared.

"I had a feeling you wouldn't stick around," Yamamoto replied with a knowing grin. Hibari, annoyed by this answer, brought his arms up while brandishing a new pair of tonfas not yet scratched in combat.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't bite you to death. You invited me, after all." His lips curled into a smirk.

'Bite him to death?' What an odd expression. "How's your leg?" Yamamoto asked, changing the subject. While stepping over some empty cups of instant ramen, he moved a little closer to the kitchen area.

Hibari charged, and next thing Yamamoto knew, his back was pressed against his refrigerator with a tonfa under his chin and a hand grasping his shirt collar. "I said-"

"I don't see why you have to," Yamamoto mused, "I mean, I took out your boss while you were sleeping and everything, so now you can take over if you wanted to, right? You seem to be stronger than everyone else."

"I have no interest in leading herbivores." Hibari pulled away from Yamamoto, and the tension in the air eased just a sliver. Was that an acceptable answer?

"But you don't mind working with them?"

"If they don't get in my way."

"Makes sense, I guess." Yamamoto idly kicked a few things on his floor around into a pile, starting to feel a more conscious about the mess because of the way Hibari kept glaring at it.

Hibari tapped an empty instant ramen cup towards Yamamoto with the tip of his shoe, and the other couldn't resist giving a chuckle at this. "Is there a reason you wanted to see me?" Hibari questioned again.

"Besides making sure you're okay? Not really."

Silence, and then, "I'm leaving." Hibari made his way over to the door and kicked things in his path aside as he did so.

"Ah, wait!" Yamamoto reached over and grabbed his arm. Hibari reacted sharply, jerking his captured appendage away.

"Don't touch me," he threatened.

Yamamoto pulled his hand away. "Sorry." He wondered what the sudden change of heart was. He was carrying the other in his arms just last night. Guess life or death situations made a big difference in everything but trust.

"I wanted to know," he started, "...if maybe you'd like some sushi?" Yamamoto had gotten a lot of free fish from some of the older workers due to their joy in seeing him. It was more than he needed.

Hibari gave him a long, hard stare. "From a convenience store?"

"Handmade." Yamamoto smiled, leaning against the fridge. "My dad used to run a sushi place." A longer stare. Then Hibari's gaze redirected to kitchen counters, the only place in the apartment that was currently well-organized.

Hibari didn't seem to be biting. He had to really sell it. Yamamoto took in a breath. "Irrashaimase!" he cried. "What would you like, okyakusama?"

Hibari seemed unimpressed, as his face didn't change at all. Then, "Maguro, Hamachi, Shake, Unagi...and tea."

"You got it," Yamamoto replied. He looked at the dining area. "Umm...this place is kind of messy. Maybe you should wait next door?" Normally he didn't use the other apartment, but right now the collecting dust was probably less of a hindrance.

Hibari turned around and walked out, but not before he kicked around more of the things on the floor. The bird on his shoulder was preening itself again, apparently unconcerned with the status of the room like its master was.

Yamamoto shrugged and put a kettle on the stove. He'd never figure that guy out.

---

Yamamoto held a wooden plate in each hand. On the surfaces were chopsticks, sushi, complimentary wasabi and ginger, and heavy ceramic cups steaming with the scent of green tea. He stepped carefully over the broken door, making sure not to trip over the edge, before delivering the platter to a, quite frankly, bored-looking Hibari. He apparently did not appreciate the dust either, as there was a clean circle surrounding his sitting space.

"Sorry there's no table in here." Hibari said nothing. He gave his plate an intense gaze of scrutiny, looking for a single grain of rice out of place that he could criticize.

Hibari was a food connoisseur no doubt. He ate every piece slowly, taking in texture and flavor. His face remained stoic, although that appeared to be his usual expression anyway, evaluating silently. When Yamamoto had invited him, he had had no idea that his lack of proper practice was going to be tested. Still Yamamoto was rather fascinated and amused by Hibari's behavior, so much so that he was watching the other rather conspicuously while eating. Meanwhile, Hibari either did not take notice or did not care.

Yamamoto was snapped out of his reverie when Hibari finally put his chopsticks down, neat and together.

"What did you think?" Yamamoto chanced.

Hibari did not even do as much as glance at him. "It was...good." Coming from a person like Hibari, who didn't seem the type to butter up words, that probably meant he liked it quite a bit.

"Really? I'm glad," Yamamoto grinned. He gobbled down the last of his sushi, then offered his plate that had a few spare fish pieces to Hibari's pet bird. The bird hopped right off of its owner's shoulders and onto the plate before starting to peck at its meal. Hibari said nothing regarding this.

"How are your wounds?" It had been only been a couple days since the operation, but considering how Hibari had broken down the door earlier, Yamamoto figured he was doing fine.

"It's none of your concern," Hibari snapped.

"Of course it is," Yamamoto interjected. "I saved your life; don't I have the right to ask?"

"I would've been fine without you," Hibari told him hostilely.

Yamamoto shrugged. He didn't know about that. "I was just worried."

"Don't be." Hibari's bird was now perched at the edge of the plate preening, having finished his dinner treat.

Hibari didn't make a move to get up like Yamamoto was expecting. Instead, he started unbuttoning his suit jacket. He slipped it off and placed it in his lap. He probably didn't want to get it dusty. His white dress shirt underneath had a few splotches of blood leaking through. Hibari unbuttoned it too but left it on.

"You need to rebandage it," Yamamoto commented. There was still quite a bit of blood, but most of it looked dry, so he was hoping that was just because it needed to be changed. "Wait here, I'll grab some stuff."

Yamamoto literally darted to his apartment and back. He wasn't sure the other was actually going to stay, so he snatched up his first aid kit from under a pile of clothes and semi-vaulted over the growing mountain of ramen cups to get back.

When he looked though, Hibari was still in the same spot, same position as before. The only difference was that the yellow bird was now perched on its usual shoulder spot. Yamamoto almost sighed with relief.

"How's your leg?" Yamamoto asked as he sat back down. His hands reached out, probably more unabashedly than they should have been, and worked on undoing Hibari's bandages.

Hibari closed his eyes when Yamamoto's fingers brushed against his skin. "It's fine." Yamamoto shuffled closer so that he could reach all the way around Hibari to switch which hand held the growing clump of red bandages. He slowly removed the gauze pad last and bundled it up with the rest of the discarded material.

Yamamoto had gotten quite good at first aid, having been injured on the job enough times to have frequent practice. Sometimes his policy of only killing the target really came back to bite him in the ass. He barely had any scars on him though, which was good since it prevented normal people from getting suspicious.

Yamamoto looked over Hibari's healing wound. It didn't appear to be infected, but it was still bleeding a bit. He placed a new piece of gauze over the bullet wound, this one a little smaller than the last, and ran a bandage around Hibari's torso to hold it in place.

"Here," Yamamoto offered up a gauze pad still in its sterile packaging and the leftover bandages. "For your leg." It was far too awkward and perverse to ask the other to take off his pants too; he knew better.

"Are you done?" Hibari asked, but was calmly buttoning up his shirt without getting the answer. His eyes darted towards the offerings, but he did not take them. Instead he stood up and headed for the still-fallen door, jacket bundled in his arms and bird on his shoulder. He stepped on the, not caring that he could possibly break it. It creaked beneath his feet, and Yamamoto winced.

"Yeah, I guess so." It didn't seem like he had a choice at this point anyway.

Hibari stopped at the doorway. Without looking back, "Why do you care?"

"Ah?" Yamamoto paused. "I don't know. Is there a reason I shouldn't?" He grinned, although the other couldn't see.

Hibari seemed to accept this answer. He walked out, and the bird on his shoulder gave a Yamamoto a happy chirp from his shoulder. Yamamoto laughed and waved it goodbye.

[Fic] The Flow of Rain - Chapter 2

Tue, 30 Jun 2009 22:56:34 GMT

Thanks for all the interest in the fic! ^^

Fic: The Flow of Rain
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Hibari
Rated: PG-13
Warning: blood, long chapter
Summary: Set in an alternate universe, Yamamoto is an assassin for hire in Japan. Beneath that smile, however, is tumultuous like a storm.

Operation

Yamamoto spent the next day recuperating. He was in no hurry; he had a month to finish his hit job. He was splayed haphazardly on his futon for most of the morning in a cycle of sleeping, waking up, rolling over in pain, and closing his eyes for more rest. By afternoon, he was standing shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror examining his now visible bruises. They were scattered erratically over his body, but his forearms and chest seemed especially battered. His fingers ran over the darkened marks lightly, feeling dull pains in response to his touches.

He laughed. "He packs quite a punch." Despite his body's protests, he stretched out his arms before twisting side to side like warming up for a baseball match. It didn't feel like anything was broken or fractured. Still, maybe he could con Shamal into giving him a check up.

Yamamoto grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head with a groan. He ambled back over to the bedroom and laid back down. His back and shoulder muscles expanded and compressed with a dull throbbing accompanying every small motion. He sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled black hair. Just a little more rest.

---

The day after, the bruises were already starting to heal, and he felt much better. He was out on the streets again, asking around about the movements of his target. Usually no crime boss was dumb enough to stay in the same spot after an attempted assassination, so now he was on the hunt.

The sky was dark now. He had only started searching at mid-day, spending the morning continuing his restful snooze. In a shady business like his though, he actually preferred to work at night.

He had stopped off to see Gokudera too. Gokudera especially hated it when he dropped by with no real purpose, accusing him of just wanting to bother someone.

"Go talk to Shamal if you like pestering people so much!" Gokudera had snapped.

Yamamoto had laughed. "Maybe I should. Those bombs of yours came in handy by the way."

"You used them already?"

"Just one. The bad guys were really tough this time."

Gokudera had scoffed. "'Bad guys?' You're one to talk." Yamamoto had just grinned in reply.

He checked his watch. Should he get ramen or curry tonight? He had a possible lead on his target's movements, so he decided to relax for now. He knew of a good ramen stall, so he turned a corner and headed in that direction.

Amidst the chatter of workers going home or to drink, his ears picked up a faint high-pitched sound. His walking slowed as he idly looked around, trying to pinpoint its origin. It was a song. That familiar song from a couple of nights ago, and if he wasn't mistaken, the vocalist was also the same.

At first chance, he ducked into a space between two buildings. The narrow pathway was somewhat ominous, but he headed down it anyway. He parted his lips into an 'o' shape and started whistling. He mimicked the bird's tune as best as he could, but some parts were too high for him.

After one round of the song, he stopped and listened. The bird had gone silent, or maybe it had moved out of his hearing range. He looked around, but he only saw crows giving off menacing caws. Then he heard a light flapping noise, much softer than a big black bird's wings would make.

He reshaped his mouth, preparing to start another verse, but then a yellow ball of fuzz flew by. It made a U-turn midair and came back around. Yamamoto laughed as it landed on his shoulder and folded its wings in. They were looking at each other expectantly.

"What's your name?" Yamamoto queried. He reached out his hand to brush against its soft down, but it gave the back of his palm a vicious peck. It ruffled its feathers at him impatiently.

"Ah...something wrong?" The bird took off from his shoulders. It didn't fly up into the sky like a frightened bird might do but instead remained at Yamamoto's eye level. Was that a signal to follow? Curious like a cat, he trailed it.

The bird was undoubtedly smart. It only led Yamamoto through the less-populated roads of Namimori and seemed to have a clear destination in mind. Heck, Yamamoto kind of wanted one for himself. It would be very useful for quick getaways.

It gave one last chirp before turning into an alleyway and disappearing. Yamamoto slowed down and finally chose to question why exactly it had led him here. At least he had his sword with him, wrapped carefully and slung over his shoulder. He kept his hand poised behind him, ready to draw his weapon from its makeshift sheath. With carefully placed steps, he headed for the alley.

"That's not what I asked for." The bird was perched on the speaker's shoulder, already gone back to preening itself.

Yamamoto grinned. "Nice to see you again."

"Skylark" glowered back at him despite not being in the best shape at the moment. He was partially propped up against one of the alley walls, taking in slow, deep breaths. His hands were bloody, and one of his arms was draped over his torso, clutching the source of the crimson stains. His tonfas were on the ground next to him, but the long end on one of them had been shattered and the other appeared to have a sizeable dent.

"Our weapons don't stand up very well to guns," Yamamoto commented. Giving the other man a once-over in the dim lighting, he saw two bullet wounds, one off to the right side of his abdomen and the other into his left leg. They probably hadn't hit anything vital, as "Skylark" was still conscious and the same as before.

"Speak for yourself," "Skylark" responded, "I'm not weak like you." Yamamoto found it strange that he made no movement to get up. He was just lying there like he was waiting for something. Maybe the rest of his group. Maybe death.

"You should go to the hospital."

The other shifted. "I'm fine." "Skylark" gripped onto the wall behind him and dragged his body toward it. He kept his left leg still, and Yamamoto could see a distinctive sheen in the light from the blood that had absorbed into the other's black slacks. He was sitting in a small pool of his own blood too. He couldn't have been lying here long or else, well, he'd have been dead by now, but at the same time, Yamamoto didn't remember hearing any gunshots.

"It doesn't look like it."

The other man shot Yamamoto a baneful look. "Just leave me alone." Using the wall for balance, his right leg slid through the pool of blood and underneath his body. He stood up slowly and let his left leg remain limp as he rose. For a moment he seemed okay, but then he bent over, clutching his abdomen. He coughed, and Yamamoto could see blood dribbling down the sides of his mouth.

"Well?" "Skylark" snapped after his coughing spell had been momentarily appeased. Yamamoto noticed that his teeth were stained red with his own sanguine fluid. It made the other man look much more feral and wild, he thought to himself.

"I'm waiting for you to pass out from blood loss so I can take you to get fixed up." Yamamoto leaned up against a wall so that he was across from "Skylark's” hunched form. He looked like he had all the time in the world as he stood there, casually pretending to check the time on his watch.

The other man's face was obscured in the dim light of the alley, but he still wasn't standing straight. Between the busy sounds of night in Namimori, Yamamoto could hear struggling breaths echoing off the walls around him.

"Skylark" spit off in some random direction, trying to get the excess blood out of his mouth. "Not the hospital," he rasped. It seemed his wounds were more serious than they had both initially thought. "Can you do that?" Perhaps he didn't want to deal with the hospital staff once they saw his tattoos that tied him to his yakuza group. That was the only reason Yamamoto could think of.

"No problem," Yamamoto replied, finally moving off the building. "Let me carry you."

"Skylark" moved away. "Just take me there," he hissed, "I don't want anything else from you."

"You can't run like that," Yamamoto protested, gesturing towards the other's injured leg and then the wound in his torso. "It'll be faster."

"I-"

"You've already lost a lot of blood. How much longer do you think you can last?" Yamamoto only had a vague idea of their current location; it would take some time to reorient himself properly on top of getting to their destination.

"Skylark" was silent and still for some time. Yamamoto guessed he was evaluating the situation, gauging how much he really needed another human's assistance. He finally stepped forward but said nothing.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Yamamoto grinned. He wrapped around to “Skylark's” side, but his every step was being watched disdainfully. He placed one arm behind the other man's knees and the other on his back. Yamamoto lifted him new-bride style but conveniently decided not to state this out loud. The bird, which had been sitting patiently on its master's shoulder the whole time, took off into the air. Yamamoto shifted his arms and adjusted the weight distribution until it felt more comfortable.

Time to go.

---

"Do you know what ti-what the-"

"Go get Shamal," Yamamoto commanded between short pants. It hadn't been that far to here from the alley, but considering that he had been running with "Skylark" in his arms the whole way, he was pretty exhausted. Gokudera was wearing a confused expression, but he nodded and disappeared back into the house, leaving the door open.

Yamamoto took this opportunity to enter. His companion, who he was still holding, was surprisingly still awake and alert. He hadn't said a word during the trip, although his eyes had been darting around, taking in the scenery...or perhaps looking for people who wanted to finish the fight?

"What, what is it?" Shamal complained with a resounding yawn as he entered the room. Yamamoto used his elbow to push things off Gokudera's work table before laying "Skylark" on top of it. Gokudera looked disgruntled, although he still seemed shocked. Sometimes Yamamoto brought himself in looking worse for wear, but he never came with someone else.

"Patient," Yamamoto explained quickly. "Two gunshot wounds, both bullets still inside."

Shamal took one glance at "Skylark" and groaned. "Not a woman? What a shame."

Yamamoto laughed, a strange contrast to all the blood that had dripped onto his clothes. "There aren't many women in the yakuza."

"I know, I know."

"How about this," Yamamoto grinned, "I'll take you to a hostess club sometime."

Shamal visibly perked up at this. All traces of sleepiness vanished in a split second. "I'm holding you to that," he responded. "You!" he pointed at Gokudera, "Go get the anesthesia machine."

"I don't need it," "Skylark" protested, his first words in a long time. They were, however, easily overlooked due to bickering.

"What? Why me?!" Gokudera complained.

"Who's letting you stay and blow shit up in his house for free, huh?!" Shamal shot back. "And don't forget my surgical gear!" While Gokudera hurried out complaining, Shamal reached under the table and pulled out some things. He reached over to Gokudera's desk and grabbed the cigarette lighter placed on it. He used it to light a lone candle that was now sitting on the edge of the makeshift surgery table. "For sterilization," he explained to Yamamoto.

"Hey." "Skylark" grabbed Shamal's wrist and squeezed hard. He did not like being ignored. "I don't need anesthetic. Just do the procedure," he growled.

Shamal tugged his wrist away. "Stubborn, eh?" He reached under the table again.

"Here's all your stuff," Gokudera mumbled, coming back into the room with an assortment of things in his arms.

"Nighty-night!" Shamal declared. Before his patient could react, Shamal gripped "Skylark's" chin and shoved a wet cloth over his mouth and nose. A pair of frantic and angry hands reached up and tried to resist him but lost strength and went limp before long.

"What the hell did you do?!" Gokudera asked.

"Chloroform works much faster," Shamal replied with a devious smirk. "Now run the anesthetic." He turned to Yamamoto. "Undress him." Shamal grabbed his surgical equipment and outfit and started preparing on Gokudera's work desk. With the three of them in the room, it seemed a little crowded.

Yamamoto unbuttoned "Skylark's" shirt as fast as he could while Gokudera placed the mask for the anesthetic over the patient's head.

"By the way," Shamal spoke while pulling on some gloves, "You know his blood type?"

"I don't," Yamamoto responded. He gently lifted up "Skylark's" limp body, cradling the head, and slid the bloody jacket and shirt off of him. He was face-up on the table, but Yamamoto could see part of the tattoo that marked his loyalty to the yakuza group. Over his left shoulder, a long brown wing draped down the man's arm. Yamamoto laid him gently back on the table.

"He'll probably need a transfusion." Shamal looked back at Yamamoto. "What are you?"

"O. Universal donor."

"Positive or negative?"

"I don't know."

"Most people are positive, but I guess we'll be taking our chances." He turned around and started sterilizing some of his metal tools over the candle fire.

"I'm just going to remove the bullets and patch him up," Shamal explained while Yamamoto carefully removed "Skylark's" pants, trying to keep the left leg as motionless as possible. "It would have been better to go to a hospital, you know."

"He didn't want to go," was Yamamoto's simple reply. He pulled out a wallet from the bloody pants. This was useful.

"Pickpocketing now?" Gokudera asked sarcastically.

"No," Yamamoto laughed, "I just wanted to know his name."

Gokudera spun around, "You brought a stranger here?!" Yamamoto could be stupid on his own time; he didn't need to bring it here!

"Hmmm..." He opened it, skipping past miscellaneous credit cards and such, going straight for the identification. "No...Hibari Kyouya is an acquaintance." He shut the wallet.

"I'm kicking you guys out now," Shamal interrupted. "I'll call when I need you, Yamamoto."

Gokudera and Yamamoto wandered to the living and sat themselves down on the shoddy couch positioned in front of the TV. Gokudera always complained about it, but Shamal never threw it out.

"Did you think about the offer?" Gokudera asked while lighting a new cigarette.

Yamamoto leaned back. "Not really."

Uri darted out from under the couch, clearly upset by the compression of space caused by their sitting. The cat latched itself onto Gokudera's leg and hissed.

"What the-" Gokudera kicked his leg out to throw Uri off but slammed it into the table in the process. He let out a heavy string of curses. Yamamoto laughed. This was like routine by now. Uri always found something to feel indignant about and then took it out on its owner, which in turn made said owner angry.

"Stupid cat," Gokudera muttered. He finally plucked Uri off his leg by the back of the neck and placed it between him and Yamamoto on the couch. The two humans reached over to pet it, and they got contented purrs in return. On the other hand, cat and owner were actually quite fond of each other...they just didn't like to admit it.

There was silence for awhile, with the exception of Uri's mewls and the occasional clink of metal in the next room. "So who's the guy?" Gokudera asked.

"Yakuza."

Gokudera shot him a suspicious look. "I thought you didn't associate with them." Well, it wasn't like being in with mafia was much better.

"I don't," Yamamoto shrugged. "I met him on the job."

"Doesn't mean you have to save him."

"Well..." Yamamoto laughed sheepishly, "That's true."

"Yo, get in here." Shamal had appeared in the room, his surgical gloves bloody from operation. He signaled to Yamamoto.

"How is he?" Yamamoto asked.

"Still breathing, if that's what you're asking," Shamal replied. "I removed the bullets. They didn't hit anything vital, but he needs some juice." Shamal held out a needle attached to a tube. He had both ends in his hand, but the other would go into the recipient. "Find your vein."

Yamamoto stood around the operation table and watched the deep crimson liquid flow out into the tube. It was a little morbid but kind of interesting to watch at the same time. He alternated between clenching and unclenching his fist, imitating a real blood donation. Meanwhile, Shamal hovered over Hibari, finishing up the operation before stitching him up. When he was done, he yawned. He was ready to go back to sleep.

"Feeling woozy?" Shamal asked as he dislodged the needle from Yamamoto's arm.

"A little," he laughed.

Shamal removed his gloves but was careful not to get any blood on his hands. "You should eat something then."

"Maybe later."

"You got something else to do?" Shamal raised an eyebrow at him.

Yamamoto laughed as he wrapped some bandages and gauze tightly over his needle puncture. "I have...unfinished business." He picked up his sword which he had left on Gokudera's desk. "I'll come by in the morning to check on him."

Shamal gave him a dismissive wave, and Yamamoto left the building. Looking up, he saw Hibari's yellow bird perched on the edge of the roof. It wasn't singing like before, but it was awake and looking down at him with beady eyes.

"Were you here the whole time?" Yamamoto asked. "He just needs some sleep."

Yamamoto turned away and walked back into the streets. He had work to do.

[Fic] The Flow of Rain - Chapter 1

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 15:19:41 GMT

It's been awhile since I've posted anything here.

I started writing this fic months ago and then lost inspiration for it. I really liked the idea though, so I finished it up. I hope it hasn't become too disjointed because of this. ^^;

Fic: The Flow of Rain
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Hibari
Rated: PG-13
Warning: Violence, long chapter
Summary: Set in an alternate universe, Yamamoto is an assassin for hire in Japan. Beneath that smile, however, is tumultuous like a storm.

Hitman

Yamamoto stood in the structure, looking around like it was some foreign place. The sunlight was shining in through the windows, revealing millions of particles floating in the air. He ran his finger over a long unused counter and collected some of the settled dust.

"Is anyone in there?" Yamamoto turned around at the sound of the voice. A person at the door.

"Tanaka-san," Yamamoto smiled warmly, "I haven't seen you in a long time." She was an old lady who used to frequent Takesushi. When he was a teenager, she would joke with him that he was growing as much as she was shrinking.

"The door was open," she noted. "Are you going to reopen soon?"

"I'm afraid not. Only my dad was good at it," he laughed.

She frowned. "Ahh, that's too bad. The sushi here was the best." After a little more conversation, she went on her way along the quiet residential road.

Yamamoto sighed. He didn't know what to do with this place. It was true that he had no idea about running the business. At most, he could prepare the rice and fish, but when it came to figuring out the financial side, he was totally lost.

But luckily, or perhaps unluckily, that wasn't the trade he was in. Years ago, even he himself thought he'd be a professional baseball player by now, batting with the best of them, but the reality was that this wasn't his current occupation either.

Yamamoto lifted his bag off the dusty table. He closed the restaurant door behind him. He didn't know when he'd visit next, but he didn't want to sell it either. So it sat and collected dust, devoid of the warmth it used to have on busy Friday nights when regular customers like Tanaka-san filled the chairs.

Maybe one day.

---

"Why come to me? You're style isn't bombing," Gokudera told him while the slow-burning cigarette in his mouth bobbed up and down.

Yamamoto leaned on the counter behind him. It was well-stocked with a party assortment of explosive power, everything from grenades to Gokudera's "special recipe" Molotov cocktails. "Actually...I was hoping you had something a little less lethal. Smoke bombs maybe."

Gokudera rummaged through some drawers, trying to remember where they were. "Yeah, I got some. Why do you need them?"

"It's getting a little hard to escape unscathed these days," he replied.

"Here's three. You better pay me back later," Gokudera glared accusingly. "Giving me a stupid, hyperactive cat doesn't count as a fair trade either."

"Oh? But you took him."

Gokudera rolled his eyes. "You told me it was a stray. I didn't think it was payment." He took another whiff of his cigarette.

"Maybe Uri hates you because you smoke," Yamamoto suggested.

"Shamal smokes, and that damn cat loves him," Gokudera shot back bitterly. The cat literally bit the hand that fed him...on multiple occasions.

"Oh, I see," Yamamoto chuckled, which received another admonishing leer. "Anyway, I'll pay you back after my next job."

Gokudera seemed to think about something for a second. "You know my boss' adviser, right?"

"Reborn? Any professional hitman knows his name," Yamamoto replied.

"Yeah, well, I heard he's looking into you."

"Oh? I'm flattered."

"You should be. Seems like he thinks you'd be a good addition to the family."

"The mafia? I've never thought about it."

Gokudera shrugged. "I was raised around it." He put his cigarette into the ashtray near his workstation, only to light another one before placing it in his mouth. "I'm moving back to Italy next month."

"Short notice."

"I've been waiting to go back for awhile," Gokudera responded. "You can come too, if you're interested in working for the Vongola."

Yamamoto raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but a smirk stayed on his face. "You're inviting me?"

"No you idiot!" Gokudera swerved around in his chair to face him. "This is an invitation from Reborn! If it were up to me I'd put that stupid cat in front of your door and leave!" On cue, Uri came out and clawed at its master's shins, leaving Gokudera yelping, cursing, and kicking, all simultaneously. Yamamoto laughed. He enjoyed this place because it was always full of energy, even if it was all of the angry sort.

---

His apartment wasn't much. In fact, it was grievously small. He had a bedroom, a bathroom, and one long room that doubled as a kitchen and living room. He didn't really have a need for more space anyway, but the living room was usually conspicuously disorganized. Stepping over junk, he tossed down his jacket and bag and made his way to the couch.

He flipped casually through the mail. Most of them were bills like usual, but he knew the one at the bottom was special.

The truth was that he was his own neighbor. He rented out the apartment next door too, but that was where the mail with more...questionable content went to. Giving out that address was just a safety precaution, and the hope was that people out to get him would hit that place first. The walls here were fairly thin, so he could stay a step ahead of his would-be attackers as long as their aim was the fake residence. At least...that was the theory he held. He also thought it'd be less conspicuous to any spies if it seemed like he actually lived in the complex. Other people in his line of work often held spare places in different complexes or areas. Aside from that, the next-door space was completely empty. And today, his empty apartment had gotten a job.

He ripped through the seal and opened the envelope printed with security tinting on the inside. Obviously there was some sensitive information in this one. He unfolded its contents and read.

Another yakuza job. They always paid well because it meant his client didn't want to be traced back to the kill. Otherwise, they'd just do it themselves. He guessed they were trying to avoid a war with a rival group.

But he had never heard of this group who had decided to employ him. He found that odd. He had a pretty broad knowledge of yakuza groups, along with their alliances and rivalries, but this one had never been mentioned by any informants.

His target was a boss. That meant the pay was even better, but so was the protection he'd have to break through. He knew the name of the group the boss belonged to. It was relatively small, and it'd probably be wiped out by his clients once his job was completed. That was none of his concern though.

Thankfully, he didn't have to do any digging through informants like some of his less helpful clients made him do. Attached was an address of their current hideout. Stepping over empty boxes, he made his way to his bedroom. He reached into his closet and pushed some shirts out of the way to reach his target: Shigure Kintoki. At the bottom of the closet, his weapon of choice was concealed, kept nicely on a holder. It was well-used, but the blade was still sharp, and the blood it had spilled didn't tarnish its shine.

He started by swinging it around casually a bit, as if to test it, and then in one swift movement, his left hand reached up to grasp the hilt before pulling the sword parallel to his body. His legs were evenly balanced now, ready to move, to slice with his katana. The sword flew as his body glided through all the stances of the Shigure Souen style. He was careful not to scratch the walls, or his landlord would be very unhappy.

The technique his father taught him...it had a certain grace to it. The movements were beautiful and smooth, but it was ultimately a "sword of ruin." He could never forget that.

When night fell, he carefully wrapped up the katana and gathered some necessary things together. It was showtime.

---

The streets of Namimori were fairly busy at night. It was mostly young people, walking around and laughing. Yamamoto felt as though he was going against the stream of them, headed for home or a date while he was off to do his job. It was surprising that Namimori provided so much work for him, although his work sometimes did take him a few train rides away. Maybe people in this town all just held irreconcilable hatred deep down.

He neared his destination, a building near the water. He only had a basic idea about the way his target's yakuza group was structured. The Ubo group, as it was called, was heavily centered around birds for some reason he did not understand. Their tattoos all had various birds as the central part of the image, and the highest members of the group were given code names like "Crane" or "Owl." At the center of the group, was the leader, and his target, who most people on the street called "The Crow."

Okay, so maybe he knew more than a lot of people. Still, he wasn't sure what to expect. He checked himself over one more time. One of Gokudera's smoke bombs in his right pocket, and a concealed gun just in case. It was rare for him to be disarmed though; he was only used to letting go of Shigure Kintoki when performing Yarazu no Ame, but he really disliked using that stance. It seemed like a last-ditch attempt to win, plus it meant retrieving it afterwards. Of course, there was also Samidare, the fifth form, but even then his fingers were off the hilt for only a split second.

He took his time walking around the building, looking for any hints as to how the interior layout looked. He could hear people inside, but he was surprised no one was stationed around the perimeter. They were either overconfident or just very stupid. With most power-hungry people, it tended to be somewhere in between.

He made his way back around to the front of the building. As quietly as he could, he grasped the doorknob and twisted. Unbelievable; it was unlocked. He backed up and looked around just to make sure no one was playing a joke on him.

He took in a deep breath, feeling the night chill combined with the coolness from the nearby water fill his chest. When he exhaled, his sword was ready to strike, and he kicked the door open.

---

Yamamoto had a rule: only kill the target. But that hadn't stopped him from giving the henchmen a thorough thrashing with the blunt side of his katana. The room was surprisingly bloodless given that he was surrounded by a multitude of unconscious men. They definitely hadn't been expecting company, and most of them hadn't been very good at fighting either.

He wiped some sweat off his forehead, glancing at the watch on his wrist. Damn, it had taken him awhile to get through these guys. Chances are that his target had already escaped out some covert route. Still, he had to make sure. He gripped Shigure Kintoki with both hands and ran for the next room.

Something yellow whizzed past his head. He stopped abruptly. It wasn't a bullet, not fast enough. To his surprise though, it came back around. It was a bird. And it was singing. It was a tune that sounded familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

The creature had thrown off his guard, and he was almost unprepared for the attack that came next. Almost as fast as the bird had moved, another figured burst through the doorway. He blocked the first strike, hearing metal screech angrily against metal, but then another blow struck his right arm down, and his body moved unintentionally forward, where he was given a strike to the side of his head before a painful kick to the gut with a foot. With his head swimming, he couldn't be sure, but it had certainly felt like he had flown halfway across the room.

"Ugh..." he groaned out. Some poor crony he had beaten up earlier had gotten in between his meeting with the floor. He gripped his katana tighter and rolled to knees.

"Another herbivore." Yamamoto looked up. Still standing near the door was presumably the person who had just given him more bruises than the roomful of huge men. The yellow bird landed nonchalantly on the man's shoulder. "This won't take long." He sounded bored, and he had obviously halted his attack without much expectation.

Yamamoto rose to his feet, shaking out the pain in his arm. "Haha," he laughed, although he wasn't sure why, and it only seemed to agitate his opponent more. The grip he had on his tonfas tightened, and the bird took flight again

"Let's go," Yamamoto said calmly, and his face hardened. He couldn't use the blunt side of his sword for this one, he was sure. Gripping the hilt tightly, he rushed in.

Quick analysis, Yamamoto thought to himself as he was forcefully repelled again. His opponent essentially used three weapons: a pair of tonfas and whichever shoe he felt like getting dirty. At least he wasn't wearing baseball cleats, Yamamoto thought to himself. His opponent also thought on his feet; he saw openings and attacked them before Yamamoto could defend. He was also hesitant to use the forms of the Shigure Souen style for this reason. He was fairly sure he'd only be able to use them once each, twice at most, so he had to choose the moments to unleash them cautiously.

Sure, his father had told him it was an invincible style, but the truth was that Yamamoto believed the wielder ultimately held the deciding factor. While he only considered himself good at baseball, his father excelled at the sword, something that had also aided in his sushi preparation.

His opponent clearly wasn't taking him seriously. He never moved from the door and didn't follow through with more chains of attacks once Yamamoto was knocked back.

Yamamoto moved to his feet again, but his opponent shot him a look that said, "Stop wasting my time." Given the situation, Yamamoto was more than happy to comply.

He rushed again, and his opponent brought his tonfas up to his chest, ready to strike. Like a batter trying to reach the base, he purposefully lost his footing and slid on the floor, knocking the other's feet out from under him in the process. They both recovered quickly, but Yamamoto hit the next blow first. Using the blunt end of the blade, he whacked it hard against the back of the other man's knee joint before rolling out of the way of a tonfa strike.

His opponent's knees hit the ground. He looked vaguely surprised, then angry. "I don't need your mercy," he spat. He crouched low, before pushing off on the ground and moving in for a fast hit. Yamamoto met force with force as he stopped one tonfa using the base of his blade. In an incredible show of strength, he pushed the metal rod away, deflecting its incoming partner in the process. His opponent's body turned, and in that moment he had the opportunity to strike, to kill with a slash through a slender, pale neck. Instead, he repeated the same move he had performed against the man's knee, this time choosing to hit the bend of his right elbow. The tonfa gripped in the corresponding hand cluttered to the floor, but a fist came up to hit him square in the face. Temporarily blinded, Yamamoto darted out of range, breaking the rally.

When his face stopped burning, he saw his opponent holding his right arm, but he had picked up the other half of his weapon again.

"What's your name?" Yamamoto asked. It was out of the blue, cutting into the tension that had built up.

With the expression he was receiving, he wasn't sure he was going to get a reply, but after being sized up again, he got his response. "'Skylark.'"

Yamamoto grinned. "So you are one of them. I thought you were just a bodyguard or something." The enormous gap in skill between the other men and this "Skylark" had also been a factor in this faulty reasoning.

"I'm not weak."

"You know, skylarks are nice birds," Yamamoto commented, ignoring the other's train of thought entirely. "I think I like swallows better though."

"I don't care." His tonfas were raised like bared teeth. "Skylark" charged, impatient with all the useless talk, but right before his fists could make contact, his forearms changed directions and the tonfas rotated out from underneath them. They struck Yamamoto, who was caught off guard by the trick. From there, the attacks didn't stop. He was hit with a flurry of spinning strikes along with a few high kicks to the side of the head dispersed in between. Yamamoto attempted to block, but the speed at which the attacks changed course was astounding. And he wasn't being blown back anymore; the goal was now to keep him in striking distance now. His opponent had apparently gotten serious.

Yamamoto spun the sword in his hand, changing the way he held the hilt. "Shibuki Ame," he called, spinning in a circle. The other was repelled by the move but managed to jump back gracefully.

"Skylark" didn't waste time moving in again. Yamamoto mentally cursed as he barely had time to bring his sword up to block the next hit. They were going to have to fight to the death at this rate, and he had a feeling who would be the victor. He laughed nervously at the thought even as he received a tonfa blow to the shoulder.

He had to get out. Using his left forearm, he blocked a painful hit before reaching around and grabbing onto his attacker's wrist. The other arm swooped in, but Yamamoto pushed forward and trapped that one between a wall and his body.

"Sorry," he said with an apologetic smile, an odd gesture to give in this situation for anyone other than him. Yamamoto turned his wrist up and slammed the katana hilt straight into his opponent's temple. The other man lost his balance but broke his fall using his hands, and Yamamoto took this opportunity to back up quickly over to where he had entered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handy gift from Gokudera. "See you around." He pulled the pin, tossed it towards the yakuza member, and was out the door before the smoke even started spewing. Yamamoto didn't look back.

Oh poo

Fri, 24 Oct 2008 01:57:56 GMT

Hit writer's block. I think my mind has been too focused on school to conjure up plots. I suppose I should stare at the notepad a bit longer and see where it goes.

I've been sketching a lot at least hehe.

Himitsu 26 (the end)

Sat, 11 Oct 2008 03:49:57 GMT

The end of Himitsu. My mind can't unsee, not that I want to though. The ending was...interesting, but quite sad. The music in the background just amplified it. ;_;

I doubt you need slash goggles for this ending. Everyone else fades away, leaving just Maki and Aoki. They show some scenes of them together in a pastel color, flashback-like fashion. Oh, and then there's:
"Maki-san, I can't know what kind of dreams you see.
I came to think that a person couldn't completely understand [another?] person." But, it's probably not true.
Maki-san, when I'm able to be strong, please show me your everything, and your secrets that no one knows."

Very pleasing. xD

[Scanlation] Hinemosu Kimi ni Ubawareru

Sun, 05 Oct 2008 06:12:05 GMT

Title: Hinemosu Kimi ni Ubawareru
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Hibari
Circle: Nitro Koutetsu (Yoneda Kou)
Rating: G
Summary: Set after the Varia arc, Yamamoto wants to know more about Hibari, but what are the answers to his questions?

My favorite Nitro Koutetsu work by far. I hope you enjoy it!

I experimented a lot with font and effects. If you have any critiques, they'd be much appreciated. :)

Download:
Mediafire Mediafire (.zip format)
Savefile

Let me know if you need another download site.

Edit: I posted this to the yamahiba comm earlier but not the general comm. This is a short doujinshi that I did as a test.
Odore by Nitro Koutetsu

Currently unmotivated to do anything

Thu, 02 Oct 2008 05:54:14 GMT

I'll finish that scanlation I was working on, I promise. orz There are a couple spots in the back of my mind that I need to take a look at and fix.

I've been writing a long fanfic. I'm terrible at writing long stories, and I often leave the document open without adding anything for long periods of time. I had the brainstorm in my mind for awhile, but turns out it was only the major parts of the story haha. Well, hope I can finish this one.

My goal of drawing on every page of class notes is going well. In fact, little too well.....I have an apparently short attention span. Maybe I'll scan in the good doodles sometime.

[Fic] Twice

Sat, 20 Sep 2008 09:58:29 GMT

I think it's safe to say I'm obsessed with this manga hehe. I doubt I've written this much fic since Prince of Tennis.

Fic: Twice
Fandom: Kateikyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Hibari
Rated: PG
Warning: Angsty
Summary: Hibari was forced to say it twice.

The first time was the day after Yamamoto had come back from a mission. It was rare for Hibari to be at the underground base and for Yamamoto to be away from it. Hibari had returned just the day before the other had been forced to depart, a fact that he had been very displeased with.

A lot had happened during Yamamoto's absence. Granted, it had been a mere week-long trip, but it was always hard to tell what their opponents were going to do next. And somehow, the task of telling Yamamoto had fallen upon Hibari.

Well, "somehow" wasn't really the way to put it. Neither of them really cared to keep it a secret. Yamamoto simply trusted his friends enough, but Hibari knew no one would object or risk facing serious physical harm. In these recently tumultuous years going by, they did not see each other often, but there were many unspoken things between them. Hibari would return at random intervals, claiming that he wanted to see how Namimori was doing, and then the two of them (three, if you counted Hibird) would wander off together without a word to the others for a day or so. Their boss, Tsuna of course, was fairly lenient about this even if Gokudera continued to complain just for the sake of complaining.

"Yamamoto." Hibari was there in Yamamoto's room to greet him upon his return. He had let Hibird fly off somewhere for the night, knowing fully well that his small companion would return the next morning.

Yamamoto smiled. "Kyouya." He pulled Hibari into a gentle embrace. It was only in Hibari's stubbornness, even in the presence of those close to him, that he did not switch to calling the other by his given name as well. But in contrast, his hands reached up and lightly clutched at Yamamoto's suit which was just slightly more beat up than a week ago. At least he hadn't come back wounded. Every time Hibari thought this, his eyes and sometimes lips wandered to the mark on the other's chin.

"What's wrong?" Yamamoto pulled back and frowned at him, already sensing something was different about this reunion.

"Yamamoto..." Hibari clenched his fists. Usually they gripped his tonfas, and he had slowly developed this habit even without holding his weapons. He looked up at the other's concerned eyes.

"Your father is dead." Hibari didn't know what had happened. Yamamoto's father was excellent at kendo, but by the time they had reached Takesushi, the place had been completely wrecked. They weren't even sure if it had been random destruction or part of a headhunt for the Vongola guardians. Hibari had rushed into the building, panicking on behalf of Yamamoto. He found the older man with a large gash on his forehead but still conscious somehow.

They had rushed him to their base and hooked him up to all sorts of machines, but he slipped away sometime during the following night. After finding out, Hibari had found himself on a dangerously conspicuous rooftop away from concerned eyes while Hibird's soft feathers brushed at his neck.

"Take care of my boy." That was what Yamamoto's father had asked of him in the rubble.

"What?"

"...I'm sorry," Hibari said tonelessly. His gaze averted to a corner of the room, but his head remained still.

The room somehow felt larger and more empty as everything lapsed into silence. Yamamoto said nothing for a long time, and Hibari did not look over at the other. Hibari didn't attempt to leave to give Yamamoto some peace, but he didn't move to comfort him either.

"I'm sorry, Kyouya," Hibari finally looked back. Yamamoto gave a half-hearted smile. "Can we stay here tonight?" The other man's grip had tightened visibly on the hilt of the katana he was still holding from his mission. Hibari nodded solemnly, not saying a word. His arms slowly reached around the slim torso in front of him, and when his hands hesitantly met each other on Yamamoto's back, the sword clattered on the ground.

The two of them spent the rest of the evening curled up in Yamamoto's bed meant for holding only one person. Neither of them spoke. Yamamoto buried his face in Hibari's chest and was undoubtedly thinking over things, a process that Hibari had already gone through by himself just a few days earlier. Hibari closed his eyes and ran a soothing hand through the Yamamoto's black hair over and over till they both drifted into an uneasy sleep. They knew tomorrow would be different, but in what way, they couldn't say.

---

The second came after carefree children had been bazooka-ed ten years into a precarious future. They replaced the grim atmosphere that had settled in, especially after Tsuna's untimely death in this time. But these children didn't belong here. Not in a place like this. They still smiled sincere smiles and tried to comfort one another in this turmoiled world.

Hibari found himself in the sick bay where the younger versions of Gokudera and Yamamoto were being monitored after that disasterous fight with Gamma. By now, Tsuna and Reborn had moved on to visit Gokudera, leaving Yamamoto by himself.

He knew without being told by his lover that he was being entrusted with the task of protecting his younger self as well as everyone else. Hibari found it surprisingly easy to differentiate the two figures. The one before him now had not gone through all the hardship and pain with him. It was only by looking back that Hibari noticed just how much the two of them had changed. The Yamamoto of this time and the one of ten years ago were like different people in many ways, even if they both shared deceptive grin.

"Hibari?" the Yamamoto in front of him spoke, sounding rightfully surprised. He was used to a much different person as well. One that didn't wander aimlessly around Namimori with him and Hibird just for the sake of wandering together. Well, not yet anyway. That would be years into the future. The one he was used to did not get close unless he was about to administer physical punishment.

"Yamamoto Takeshi." He had talked things over with Reborn earlier. Hibari placed a bundle of cloth on a nightstand next to the bed. It was a hakama for the training the other didn't yet know he was to undergo.

He was about to leave when a voice stopped him. "Hey, Hibari?" He didn't reply, but he turned his head to show he was listening.

"Have you seen my dad?"

That was not a question he wanted to answer. Hibari turned around, walking back to the bed. His shoes clacked on the tile floors, denting the silence of the room. "He's dead." It was blunt, but he refused to lie, even if this person was only a temporary resident of this time. He needed to know how much things had changed. His father's funeral service had already been held a long time ago, and his son was left in front of his father's photograph with a complicated expression on his face.

Yamamoto seemed to shrink back further into the softness of his bed. "Oh."

It was silent for awhile, but Hibari remained there like a statue, hovering over the bed. "Are you going to cry?" he asked patiently.

"No, I just..." Yamamoto's voice was unsteady.

And then he laughed a bit. A defense mechanism. "This game kind of sucks." Hibari watched the boy turn away from him in the bed and attempt to curl into a ball. He really was going to cry.

Maybe Yamamoto could fool the younger Tsuna, but Hibari knew that he wasn't as carefree as he seemed. All sorts of thoughts ran through that mind, but the only things that reached the surface were a stupid grin and an dim-witted persona. It was admirable, and it was stupid.

Hibari sat against the edge of the bed, feeling it compress under his weight. He leaned over the width of the mattress and placed a light kiss on the boy's forehead, clearly shocking the younger Yamamoto. But this was all he could do for him.

"If you defeat the boss," Hibari told him evenly, gazing into the boy's slightly wet eyes, "everyone will come back." He pulled back so that he was sitting upright again.

Yamamoto laughed, a little more sincerely this time. "Guess I can't quit, huh?" he replied.

No, he couldn't. For the sake of all of them, he couldn't.

"Thank you Hibari," the boy told him.

He got off the bed. "For what?" he asked coolly. Then he left the room.

Hibari wanted this boy to leave. All of them. They were annoying. This was not supposed to be their fight, even if they needed the strength of the Vongola rings. For now, all he could do was protect them and make sure they were ready to fight in a few days.

He hoped Yamamoto was enjoying his trip in the past, but he knew neither of them wanted it to last too long. Everyone needed their most important people back. Sawada was worried about his mother, the younger Yamamoto needed his father, and Hibari...

Hibari just needed his katana-wielding fool.

[Scanlation] Odore by Nitro Koutetsu

Mon, 15 Sep 2008 05:32:25 GMT

Title: Odore (means smell or odor in Italian)
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Hibari
Circle: Nitro Koutetsu (Yoneda Kou)
Rating: G
Summary: Just an AU (future arc?) short by Yoneda Kou.

This was scanned by souseki_naora.

I have another project in queue, but I'd like some tips on cleaning, typesetting, and whatnot, so for now I did this short doujinshi. Let me know what you think please. :)

Download:
Mediafire
Savefile

If you need any other download links, please let me know!

[Fic] Fun and Games

Fri, 29 Aug 2008 18:02:44 GMT

Fic: Fun and Games
Fandom: Kateikyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Hibari
Rated: PG?
Warning: None, I think
Summary: "Don't ever do that again," Hibari threatened him angrily.

The slash came almost vertically. It connected with the chin first, missed the neck and collarbone entirely due to his position before moving down across the chest and abdomen.

Yamamoto's knees hit the ground, clutching his torso in pain. It was a deep wound.

Hibari turned around. He rammed the end of one of his tonfas straight into the side of Yamamoto's attacker, surely breaking a few ribs in the process. The man crashed to the ground and his weapon flew from his hands.

"I'm fine," Yamamoto told him without being asked. Hibari said nothing. "We're almost done here." He moved his feet under him and stood up shakily. Blood stained his torn shirt, and drops of dark crimson plopped to the ground. His slackened tie had narrowly missed being sliced in two. He breathed deep and moved into an offensive stance.

He couldn't let Hibari have all the fun.

~~~

Several hours and almost passing out en route to their hidden base later, Yamamoto had finally gotten the medical attention he needed. His chin was sporting only a large bandaid, but his torso was well wrapped in bandages. Hibari could see a line of gauze pads underneath following the trail of the slash. In a few hours they would probably be tinged with a deep red.

Hibari knew Yamamoto was hurt, but he didn't care. As soon as the last concerned visitor had left, he grabbed the collar of Yamamoto's shirt and pulled. Hard. The other stumbled forward, closing the distance between them.

"Don't ever do that again," Hibari threatened him angrily. "I would've been fine without your help."

"But he was coming right at you, and you were busy-ugh!" Hibari had given him another vicious tug. Yamamoto winced as he was then shoved away and forced to stumble back onto the bed for support.

Hibari glared with more intensity than usual. "I don't need you to save me." He had saved Yamamoto's ass in combat countless times by now. The strongest Vongola guardian did not need to be protected.

"I was just...worried," Yamamoto murmured, rubbing at his stomach. All this abuse had exacerbated his wounds. He was pretty sure Tsuna was going to reprimand him later, but right now, he was facing Hibari, the more terrifying of the two.

Hibari clenched his fists. "You...idiot!" He closed the distance and...crushed their lips together. Yamamoto's mouth wasn't really working properly to respond at the moment; Hibari had grabbed him under the chin with one hand and yanked him forward, fingers holding a tight grasp on both cheeks. He felt another pain, although this one was located underneath the bandage on his face. Another wound screaming at him to take better care.

That was awfully hard at the moment.

Hibari was controlling this battle, and Yamamoto let him, knowing that bad things would happen if he wasn't tactful in calming the other down. One hand moved up towards Hibari's face, but it was slapped away before ever making contact.

He waited until Hibari had pulled back to catch a breath and had released his face from his iron grip. Without missing a beat, Yamamoto reached out and wrapped an arm around the other's waist. He pulled him in quickly but softly so that they were sitting on the bed together. Surprisingly, Yamamoto had found through trial and many, many painful errors that a gentle gesture like this could get Hibari to cease fire for a short while. Maybe it was because it signalled to him that Yamamoto wanted to talk seriously, or maybe it was because he had the natural ability of tranquility associated with his rain element. He couldn't be sure.

"I know you can take on an army by yourself," Yamamoto told him, clearly proud of this fact. "And that you get me out of a lot of tight spots." Hibari's grip on his open shirt tightened. Oops, he was getting impatient. "But let me worry about you too." Yamamoto pulled Hibari in a little closer and shot him the most charming smile he could muster while still feeling severe pain.

Hibari went silent. Silence could lead to any number of things. It was like Russian roulette with a pair of tonfas instead of a gun, but luckily Yamamoto enjoyed games like these.

He blinked as a surprisingly gentle hand touched his cheek. Its fingers brushed over his lips until they reached the covered wound on his face. Yamamoto didn't budge while they traveled over him. They traced a steady path down his neck till they began running a trail over the gauze pads on his torso.

"Hibari?"

Hibari pushed him down on the bed, although this time was much less forceful. "Get some rest," he finally said, hovering over. He turned away and moved off the mattress.

Yamamoto propped himself up by the elbows. "You can stay, you know."

"And do what? Watch you sleep?" came the monotone reply. Hibari was already walking away.

He laughed. "Guess you're right." Yamamoto brought the bedsheets up to his chest and laid back. He just couldn't win.

But he also knew that Hibari would change his bandages and bring him meals until he was fully healed. It wasn't something he'd point out to the other, of course, because Hibari seemed to enjoy pretending he didn't care. The last time he had done so much as suggest it, the other had almost knocked him out cold with one blow and left him there on the floor.

Yamamoto didn't consider himself a masochist or anything by any means. It was just that he liked poking at the imposing maze that was Hibari, who was much more stoic and closed off than anyone else he'd met. Sometimes good things happened, such as slowly gaining the other's love and acceptance, but sometimes he got kicks to the gut and tonfas to the head too. Yamamoto wasn't a masochist, and he couldn't win, but he wouldn't have it any other way either; he just liked dangerous games.

[Fanart] Training

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 14:01:02 GMT

Fandom: Kateikyou Hitman REBORN!
Character: Yamamoto Takeshi
Rated: G
Warning: None

I admit...I got lazy on the backdrop. ^^;

The black and white version is here.

[Fic] Free Food

Sat, 09 Aug 2008 13:02:51 GMT

Fic: Free Food
Fandom: Kateikyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: A hint of Hibari/Yamamoto
Rated: G
Warning: None really
Summary: Hibari enjoys Japanese food, and today he makes a trip to Takesushi, completely unsuspecting.

Hibari, besides hamburgers and beating up annoying herbivores, enjoyed nothing more than Japanese food. Okonomiyaki, shabu shabu, oden etc. etc. He ate most of it. By now, he had scared most restaurants in Namimori that specialized in this type of cuisine into giving him free meals whenever he stopped in. During his visits, his tonfas were always ready to pass judgement on the less than satisfactory service or that pesky hair in his udon. There were few places that he had left to brutally taste test and critique. And by brutally, he meant physically of course.

Tonight, he was headed to Takesushi, a place that he had overheard a few students talking about. It was a small place, just a family business, but their sushi was supposedly of excellent quality. From what Hibari had heard, their fatty tuna was the best in the area.

Hibari usually ate dinner early. He hated the commotion of the evening crowds. Of course, this meant that most of the people who ate at the same time as him were elderly folk, but he conveniently ignored this fact while everyone else decided not to tell him for health reasons.

The place did not stand out much; the only indications that Hibari had reached his destination were the shop curtains and a menu placed out front. He took his time looking through the menu, determining what he felt like eating today. When he was finally done, he wandered in.

"Irasshaimase!" the man at the counter called jovially.

Hibari didn't really acknowledge the greeting, and his eyes moved casually over his surroundings as he began his inspection. It seemed to be clean enough. He also noticed that there weren't any other customers here at the moment. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign, but at least it would be quiet. He took a seat at the counter so he could watch over the sushi being made.

"What would you like?" The man gave a wide grin, cleaning his knife for its next task.

Hibari rattled off a few items, their infamous fatty tuna being one of them, then went back to looking around. The place had a very traditional feel to it. He liked that.

"Hey Hibari!" The peace and quiet was interrupted. He glanced up, only to find the sushi chef gone and in his place an annoying baseball-obsessed herbivore from school. "Here's your tea." He set the steaming porcelain cup down gently.

"You work here?" Hibari slowly stood up, producing his hidden tonfas. "Our school doesn't allow part-time jobs." The head of the Disciplinary Committee would see to his proper punishment...and then some.

Yamamoto threw his hands up defensively and backed up a bit. "Whoa, calm down." He laughed. "This is my family's restaurant. I'm just helping out 'cause my dad has to finish an order for a big party." Hibari glared at him, but eventually sat back down.

"Oh, a friend of yours Takeshi?" The sushi chef reappeared with a few slabs of fish and an impossibly sharper knife.

"Yeah, kind of," Yamamoto replied while Hibari spat out a hostile "No" at the same time. The other did not seem particularly hurt by Hibari's response and just chuckled a little.

His father joked that his son was good for bringing business to the shop with all his baseball popularity. Hibari, at this point, was getting impatient, but said nothing and simply ignored the banter that had started between the two men. He focused his eyes on the food preparation going on over the counter. Yamamoto was shaping the sushi rice into a nice block shape while his father cut the fish into neat, thick strips. At least he got his food faster, Hibari thought to himself, but he was still in a foul mood.

"Enjoy," Yamamoto's father finally declared, placing a wooden plate of sushi in front of Hibari. Everything was arranged quite nicely, Hibari noted to himself. He separated his chopsticks and lifted the first piece of sushi to be taste tested.

But he stopped mid-motion. "Why are you watching me?" Hibari asked, his eyes still focused on the food he had been about to consume.

"Hm?" Yamamoto spoke, sounding completely unaware of the fact that he had just been staring at Hibari. "Oh sorry." He moved further down the counter and went back to shaping rice. His father had gone to the back of the shop again. It was just the two of them now.

Hibari took his time tasting the different types sushi he had ordered. They had good texture, and the fish used seemed to be fairly fresh. Overall, it was probably the best he had eaten in a few weeks.

"How do you like it?" Yamamoto asked with his usual grin. He had manuevered around the counter and was now sitting in the seat to Hibari's right, idly drinking a cup of tea.

"You're annoying the customer," Hibari responded, still refusing to make eye contact with the other. From then on, he ate in silence, although the presence of the person next to him never left. Amazing, Hibari thought to himself, he actually does know how to be quiet.

When he was finally finished, he placed his chopsticks neatly on the sushi tray. Ah, now the part about the bill. Usually this was the part where he scared the restaurant managers senseless. He had to admit, he rather enjoyed it.

Hibari shifted, and Yamamoto next to him flinched a bit. He had to admit, that herbivore was often very acute at sensing real danger.

Nonetheless, Yamamoto's hands, rough and calloused from baseball, reached out to take the sushi plate and teacup away. "You don't have to worry about paying," he said, "My dad said it's on the house."

Hibari glared. "Why?" he asked, highly suspicious.

Yamamoto started his trek behind the counter to get the stuff washed. "Because you're my friend. He does it all the time."

"I am no-"

"You should come back sometime," was all Yamamoto said before disappearing to the back of the store. Hibari was really irritated now. Never had he been so bothered at getting a free meal before.

That guy had pulled Hibari into his happy illusion. In some deluded mindset of Yamamoto's, they were friends, much like those other herbivores he hung around with. He even went as far as cutting him off and then running away before Hibari could deny it.

It was like...he was hurt.

No no, Hibari didn't care about things like that. He had gotten a free meal and that was all, although the method he had acquired it with wasn't what he was used to. Still, he had a bothersome feeling sitting in the back of his mind, and he couldn't (or wouldn't) figure out why. It made him even angrier. If he had actually been carrying any money at the moment, he would've thrown it down in defiance to pay for his meal. Instead, he stood up violently and stalked out of the sushi restaurant.

But he had only made it a few meters before he heard Yamamoto call, "You can have some extra sushi next time!" Hibari continued on with his glowering expression, pretending like he hadn't heard.

It was true that Takesushi had some excellent sushi. And he thought it was definitely better than those places with conveyor belts. But he preferred getting his meals through his very effective intimidation tactics. Getting free food through friendship was a lot different than winning it by fear. It felt much more satisfying using the latter as his leverage.

But fear mongering didn't get him extra sushi...

Hibari practically stomped away, resisting the urge to knock down a few telephone poles.

A/N: I admit, this is just because my mind is going crazy with parallels. Hibari likes Japanese food --> Takesushi! Hibari likes birds --> blue swallow! It's terrible. xD

[Fic] Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 13:48:07 GMT

Fic: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
Fandom: Kateikyou Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: A hint of Hibari/Yamamoto
Rated: PG
Warning: Spoilers up till about chapter 111
Summary: Perhaps...not a herbivore.

The first time they fought, Hibari estimated that Yamamoto Takeshi had lasted at least 1 second longer than the other herbivores he had beaten up. Not that it was much of an accomplishment; just something to note.

But the time when Yamamoto Takeshi sidestepped his tonfa strike and even managed to grab it was when Hibari really started to take notice.

Perhaps...not a herbivore, Hibari thought to himself. On the other hand, maybe it had just been luck. Hibari had readied his tonfas in order to find out, but the baby, the only respectable one in their little group, had stilled his strikes, promising something better later on.

The next night, Hibari observed the Rain Ring match with his usual disinterested face. He wasn't really as bored as his expression indicated, however. In fact, the fight had kept his interest quite well. His eyes had been trained on one Yamamoto Takeshi and the dance he did with the shimmering water and a transformed katana.

Not a herbivore, Hibari finally decided, but at the same time, he acted like one. The nonchalant attitude was irritating. And the way he never seemed to fight at full strength. In their first very short encounter, he had been protecting his right hand. And now with the ring battle, he had only hit with the dull side of the blade. He was either overly confident or just very stupid.

Hibari overheard the baby tell the herbivores that this guy was a natural-born hitman. Personally, he thought it was a ridiculous thing to say. That guy didn't have any kind of bloodlust. He didn't strike to kill. But Hibari had to admit he saw and felt something in that match that made him believe it.

No, not a herbivore. Maybe an omnivore then? A person who was both prey and predator at the same time? No, it didn't seem to fit. He didn't actively look for battles until he felt danger.

He was just...a wolf in sheep's clothing. Not looking to consume herbivores, but simply to blend in. In fact, this wolf seemed to have a penchant for protecting the sheep it grazed with.

Hibari found that to be the most irritating thing of all. It made him want to bite the other to death, just to see if his real strength would appear before his imminent destruction by Hibari's tonfas.

And suddenly, Hibari found himself saving this guy. After bandaging himself up after an unfinished battle with a supposed genius, he wandered down to the now water-damaged portion of the school. It irked him to see the structure in such terrible shape, but there was the promise of it being fixed up. Maybe it would even get rid of all the dents and stains he had counted while patrolling the halls.

When Hibari arrived at the Aquarion arena, the idiot was there, still wearing that stupidly happy expression even though he was minutes away from dying. Hibari actually considered the thought of letting him drop dead, then changed his mind. No, not yet. What he wanted...was to see the wolf at full strength, wild and unrestrained. He wanted to see it pushed to brink of hunger so that it attacked without mercy.

Until then, he wouldn't let him die. He'd keep saving that worthless herbivore facade until that sheep's coat was all sheared off.

[Doujinshi] Unstable Sense

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 01:33:03 GMT

Title: Unstable Sense
Doujinshika: Yanagi Touya
Fandom: Guilty Gear
Pairing: Sol/Ky
Rating: NC-17

I picked this one up at a con awhile back. You know, from that guy who goes to seemingly many cons shouting about yaoi to attract people. Haha.

Summary: Sorry, I got...demotivated and didn't finish translating it. T_T But basically, Sol tells Kai he'll be back in 2-3 days. And a week later, he hasn't come back, and Kai wants to see him. Axl comes around and tells Kai he's his beloved person and wonders if he'd try being unfaithful. After some non-con stuff, Sol comes back and demands Kai tell him who did this to him, but Kai refuses, knowing that Sol will pretty much maul them. Sol gets mad and leaves, but Bridget tells him that he knows who did it. Sol goes over to Axl and gives him a nice Napalm Death, and Sol and Ky make up. ♥

Download: If you need it uploaded somewhere else, just let me know! :) You're welcome to share these scans.
Mediafire

[Fic] Dreaming

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 09:27:52 GMT

Fic: Dreaming
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairing: Leon/Cloud
Rated: PG-ish?
Warning: I hope I didn't throw in too much FFVIII and made the story too confusing. x(
Summary: Cloud was having dreams about one Squall Leonhart. But not in the way you'd think.

Cloud cringed in his half-awake state and brought his hand up to shield his eyes from the morning sun. It always seemed much more bright and annoying at this time of day.

He sighed and rolled over in the small bed. He had been dreaming again. A good one this time. The best one in months actually.

It was peculiar. Cloud admittedly hadn't dreamt very much before this (whatever this was exactly), but now it was like his brain had gone and created a whole other world to entertain itself while he slept. It was like following a story. Every night, he had the same identity, living in the same place. He had been growing older over the span of the dreams as well, experiencing new things and meeting various people.

He'd been going to sleep earlier lately. It wasn't that he was so eager to escape to the other world. It was just that sometimes he'd suddenly get tired and pass out where he stood. One time, he had woken up on the street, and everyone thought he'd been drinking too much the night before.

At night he relinquished his name of Cloud Strife. At night, he was Squall Leonhart, gunblade wielder, at 5, 8, 15 and all the other ages in between. And last night, he had been 18, troubled and antisocial. Perhaps not so different from his awake self. His imagination certainly was creative; he'd never even considered the thought of a gunblade beforehand. His mind also saw fit to fill in every crack with specific details. Cloud could recall many points regarding his other identity and his personality, obscure things such as his favorite color and what his petty phobias were.

Cloud sat up and threw his feet over the side of the bed. It seemed, however, that neither of his identities had been very happy recently. He resisted the urge to sigh again. He just couldn't catch a break, awake or asleep.

~~~

"It's good to have you back Cloud," Aerith admitted in her naturally gentle voice. Cloud didn't say anything in response, but he nodded his head. He actually wasn't sure how he felt about reuniting with them. It was nice to be around people he could actually trust and call friends, but what if Sephiroth appeared? He could be putting them in danger. In fact, he was almost sure of it.

Yuffie suddenly appeared at Cloud's side. It seemed strange that someone with so much energy could escape Cloud's rather exceptional warrior sense, but then again, she was a self-proclaimed ninja. "Wait, there's one person you have to meet!"

"Oh right." Aerith smiled. "He should be coming back soon." Cloud found it vaguely annoying that they decided to omit this person's name like they wanted to surprise him with it. He sat down at the table and waited for Aerith to bring the tea she had promised him earlier.

Cloud sipped at the tea for awhile and actually attempted to earnestly listen to Yuffie prattle on about all the adventures she had been having recently. So much had happened, a great deal of it thanks to Sora. He had ditched Hades and left the Coliseum. He had finally admitted to himself that he had been going about things the wrong way. He was going to change now, he had promised himself.

"Here he is!" Yuffie exclaimed, bouncing up from her chair at the sound of a door closing shut. She momentarily disappeared and Cloud heard a mildly displeased "what the-" come from the hallway she had gone down. Cloud made no movement to get up from his seat. He really didn't feel like giving the ritual handshake introduction right now.

"Cloud, this is-stop being difficult!" She tugged at the man's arm. He was clearly protesting about being dragged over. Cloud cast a bored look in the direction of the doorway. It wasn't like this was going to be a birthday present or anything. "This is-"

He nearly dropped his teacup. "Squall," he murmured, in a disbelieving dazed state.

The brunette's eyes narrowed. "It's Leon, actually."

Well...surprise.

~~~

Cloud alternated between pacing and collapsing on his bed. So his mind hadn't been making it all up? No no, it was impossible. It wasn't to say for certain that he really had been living as this other person at night. Maybe they didn't have a similar history at all. Maybe it was all just coincidence, with everything from the gunblade to the distinct lion emblem on his jacket and the way the scar fell on his face.

He could have actually believed his own reasoning somehow, if it had not been for Yuffie telling him later that "grouchy-face" had simply decided to change his name from Squall.

Cloud plopped back onto his mattress again. The scar. His left index finger reached up and drew a trail down his forehead to the bridge of his nose. Cloud knew how Squall-no-Leon had gotten the scar. It was something tragic, and he began to recognize in the mornings just how much it had changed this dream man. But Squall had woken up the morning after the incident, saw the healing wound in the mirror, and did nothing. It wasn't as though he had not cared about his appearance at the time; it seemed as though he didn't care it was there. Even after the wound had sealed up into a fresh scar, he did nothing about it. He didn't fret or even try to cover it up with his rather long bangs. Cloud found that interesting somehow.

He wondered what to do. If he slept tonight, would he dream again? The other man was in rather close proximity now. It just made things so much more awkward, although knowing the intimate details of another person without being told by aforementioned person was already pretty unsettling for Cloud.

He tried to think how it had all started. He rolled over on the bed so that his face was nearly suffocated by the fluffy sheets beneath him. What had he been doing the day the dreams started? That day was too mundane to be recalled. It blended in with all the others too well.

But the first dream he could recall. Cloud thought harder. He remembered a girl, one that he recognized from the day before. What was her name...the dream had been about the day she left. She had told Squall to be strong and that she loved him. But Squall, being much younger then, had cried like a baby after she had disappeared. She had been like an older sister.

Ellone. He had crashed into her the day before somewhere in Traverse Town and then escorted her to her destination because of the threat of Heartless. Perhaps she had been looking for Squall that time. But that was the only instance where he had seen her in real life. When the dreams started, he had started to worry that he had somehow become infatuated with her in addition to his mind going haywire. Certainly she had been cute, but Cloud wasn't the type of person to believe in or act on love at first sight.

She had done something to him. She had some sort of powers, but what they were specifically had never been dictated in his dreams. It was a rather weak theory, but it was the only one he had at the moment.

It was hard to pretend that he hadn't dreamt. Hadn't seen the Squall Leonhart's world through Squall Leonhart's eyes. It was hard to deny that Cloud knew so many important things about his life and essentially why he was the way he was. It was perplexing and irritating. He didn't know whether to keep silent, therefore making him the only one to feel awkward, or confront the other, which would in turn make his whole living arrangement awkward instead.

He turned over, closed his eyes, and slept.

~~~

Cloud lasted only a couple months before he finally fessed up. The dreams had continued, and distance he put between Leon and himself was getting to be painfully obvious. It seemed like he had made his new home rather tense even without saying anything.

He barely spoke to the Leon, and Aerith tried to use the fact that they had known him longer as an excuse. She insisted that Cloud would warm up to him sooner or later. No, that was hardly the problem. The problem was that Cloud knew the other too intimately to be comfortable around him. He often spent his day trying to remain out of the other's line of vision. He purposely left a bit later in the mornings and only came back when the sun had fully set.

It was eating away at him. Cloud tried very hard not to care about the dreams that kept coming. He was more than frustrated at his current situation. He attempted to act like he didn't know about how hard Leon had trained in order to fully utilize the gunblade's potential or why those red wings graced the back of Leon's jacket. He cared about the person in his dreams. He wanted to ask questions, wanted to help him perhaps. But there was the problem of awkward circumstances and having to answer queries he himself didn't know all the answers to.

On the other hand, Cloud had been slipping up right from the start. He never asked Leon the basic questions like how much sugar or cream in his coffee; he just knew and served it up without thinking about it. He should have caught himself, but sometimes he'd have waves of what seemed like clairvoyance, doing things as he had in his dreams. Cloud always berated himself mentally everytime Leon gave him a look of surprise. He had the feeling the Leon was starting to get suspicious. Not about something as farfetched as having constant dreams about his life, but something along the lines of stalkers and obsessions. That wasn't really the reputation he wanted to have. Brooding loner he could handle, but not creepy follower.

"Shit," Cloud murmured when he realized how he had made Leon's tea exactly to his liking. Probably was just the right temperature too. The other raised an eyebrow at the curse but said nothing. He took the teacup off the table and gave it a sip.

Cloud sat in the chair opposite to Leon and cupped the porcelain in his hands. The heat radiated into his palms, making them uncomfortably warm as he stared into the liquid. This was quite a rare occurence. Being alone with Leon, to be more precise. Usually someone else was around to help alleviate the strange atmosphere until Cloud could slip away silently but it seemed they were inconveniently missing today.

"This is good," Leon told him, referring to the tea. Cloud grasped his own cup in one hand and gave it a quick sip.

"Ah..." Leon's attempt at conversation lapsed into silence. The two of them finished their tea while Cloud once again debated what to say or even if he should say anything at all.

"Do you know a girl named Ellone?" Cloud asked hesitantly, not looking up from his tea. It seemed to be the safest way to start the conversation.

Leon paused. "I haven't heard that name in a long time," he mused rather darkly. It was a name that reminded him all too much about the past he'd rather forget.

"I met her." Cloud hesitated. "A few months ago."

"Did she say something about me?" Leon looked rather intrigued now. Cloud shook his head.

"I wanted to know...what kind of power she has."

Leon leaned back in his seat. "She didn't talk about it much." Cloud knew his words were being examined carefully at that point. During their meeting she really hadn't blurted anything out about it, and Leon knew that she wouldn't tell someone she didn't trust. "She could speak with others telepathically. And how do I explain...she could move people's consciousness to other people."

"Could they see into that person's past?"

"...she used it on you," Leon realized.

"I saw you," Cloud blurted. Or rather, he had thought he had been him. That was one confusing and embarassing mess he'd rather not admit to.

"What did you see?" His tone was almost threatening. Just as Cloud expected, Leon was not very happy about these turn of events.

"A lot of things," Cloud admitted, trying to avoid the other man's gaze. "You grew up in an orphanage. Your emblem is Griever. You got your scar-"

"Don't say it," Leon warned with one gloved hand placed quickly and angrily on the table. Then he sighed and stood up. Leon slowly turned away and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. I know it's not you doing this."

Cloud rose out of his chair. "Listen," Leon began without turning around, "I'll...talk to you later." Then he walked off, most likely to clear his thoughts.

Well, that had not gone very smoothly. Cloud sighed and gathered up their teacups. Things were out of his hands for now.

~~~

It had already been a couple days since then, and still no word from Leon. In fact, he hadn't even seen the other. Either he did a much better job at avoiding people than Cloud or he had gone off somewhere for a few days. Since both Aerith and Yuffie had mentioned nothing about a mini-vacation, Cloud had to assume it was the former.

He was rather frustrated right now. He had been taking some time off from helping out the Restoration Committee in order to try and find Ellone. So far, there had been no success. But the dreams were still continuing, and Cloud decided to take that as a sign. He wandered on.

In fact, the timeline of the dreams had mysteriously leapt forward. Maybe Ellone had gotten curious to how Leon had been doing lately. Last night, "Cloud" had met himself for the first time. It was embarassing and comical, seeing the way his eyes had visibly widened as he called out the name "Squall," only to be rebuffed soon after.

And he listened to Aerith, Yuffie, and Tifa talk to Leon about him. It made him feel more intrusive than usual, hearing all these things about him. Much of it was their insistence that Cloud would eventually come to be a part of their strange but cordial family, but a great deal of it was also praise about him. They talked about his skill as a swordsman and the good qualities in his character in such a way that made his heart swell. It made him believe that he could destroy the darkness that had plagued him for such a long time.

Leon had already heard a lot of things about Cloud. They had even told him about the time they had gotten Cloud to crossdress, ribbon in his pretty blonde hair and all. That was one story he had definitely not wanted getting out. Yuffie had been practically rolling on the floor laughing while Aerith smiled behind a polite hand. Leon had chuckled a bit but didn't really say anything regarding the topic.

In a way though, thestorytelling was similar to Cloud learning about Leon. Of course, Ellone's method was much more direct, but definitely along the same lines. It was like collecting pages of a biography waiting to be written. But Leon no longer had anyone to talk about his life except Ellone, but she seemed to be avoiding contact. It must have been lonely, Cloud thought.

After another hour of unsuccessful searching, Cloud went home to people that cared about him.

~~~

"Shit."

"Cloud" was looking at himself. He was drinking tea with himself. But hands that were distinctly not his but attached to this observing body reached over and placed the porcelain cup to his lips.

"This is good."

"Ah..."

The conversation lapsed into silence. Cloud watched his physical self move in and out of Leon's wandering vision. In fact, he was quite surprised that Leon had been gazing at him at all, as if he had expected him to say something. And the Cloud inhabiting Leon's mind knew exactly what his tea partner would say next.

"Do you know a girl named Ellone?"

"...I haven't heard that name in a long time."

~~~

Cloud was staring into a mirror, but it was Leon that was staring back. His eyes were once again focused on the scar on his forehead. He knew Leon would only gaze at the mark; he'd never touch it or cover it under bangs that were now even longer than in his younger years.

He was troubled by the mark, but he'd never cover it up. Cloud figured that it reminded Leon so much of the past he was trying to forget but could never fully let go. He was conflicted and guilty. Cloud understood that feeling all too well.

Leon turned away from the mirror. He looked around his room, considering something. He wandered over to his small wooden desk and pulled out a pen and paper. He leaned over the surface and scrawled a note:

Ellone, if you see this, let's meet.

And then the dream severed.

Cloud's eyes slowly opened. It was early. It was only 5 am, according to his clock. He groaned and sat up. Maybe he'd gotten a bit too used to these dreams at night. He didn't feel tired enough to go back to sleep though.

I'm sorry, a foreign voice echoed in his ears. Cloud shot upright from his previously groggy position, alert and ready like any good fighter.

I've gotten you into trouble. Ellone. Leon had mentioned that she also had telepathic abilities.

Why...why me? You didn't even ask if I knew him. Cloud thought, hoping it would reach her. He wasn't sure how this whole thing worked in detail.

There was no reply for a time, and he wondered if she had heard. He stood up to go wash his face in the bathroom.

I think...I trusted you.

I don't understand. Cloud was finding the whole experience stranger by the minute. Communication without gesture, speaking, or writing was very strange and unique. He could be brushing his teeth while solving a complex puzzle and still be able to converse without much effort. The power of the mind.

I felt like...I could trust you with his memories. It sounded ridiculous, showing a total stranger someone else's life story, but apparently it made a lot of sense to her. I can't use my powers on myself, so I need a vessel.

Cloud snorted to himself. Obviously he doesn't feel the same. He really was brushing his teeth now. He was looking in the mirror, but it was his own blue eyes looking back this time.

He heard a giggle resound somewhere in his mind. He's just being stubborn.

Listen, Cloud...do you care about him?

Cloud sat down at the desk in his room. It was the same as Leon's, although placed in a different corner.

I...I guess. It was an understatement. It was kind of hard to live someone's life and not care.

Then I think things will be okay. Cloud didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but he accepted it anyway.

Are you going to see him? he asked.

A pause. I don't know.

You should.

I've been away for a long time.

I don't see why that matters. Leon knew she was around now. He wanted to see her. He even used her abilities to make that known to her.

Since the time I left...I haven't spoken to him. Not even like this.

He'll forgive you, you know.

I know. And after that, Ellone ceased to say anything. Cloud couldn't tell if she just wasn't replying or had just stopped reading his thoughts. After a few minutes, he stood up and got dressed. He didn't grab his sword just yet; he had woken up too early to head out.

Instead he headed to the kitchen for some breakfast. Coming around the corner though, he could hear the pleasant clank of dishes already in progress. So this was how Leon had managed to stay out of sight. The hall smelled of toast with butter.

Cloud entered casually, trying to make it seem like they both woke up this early on a regular basis and that Leon hadn't been avoiding him for the past couple days. Neither of them gave a good morning greeting, although Leon laid a plate of toast out in front of him as an invitation.

The two of them ate without conversation. They consumed the toast, which was admittedly better made than when Cloud attempted them. The toast crunched loudly in their jaws, but that was the only sound in the kitchen. When they were done eating, however, neither made a move to gather the plates. They still had some time till the girls woke up; they had somehow decided without any physical indication that they were going to sit here like manly idiots until something got worked out.

"I thought I'd be able to forget it all," Leon spoke. "No one knew who I was." They both absentmindedly began to watch Leon's fingers drums lightly on the table. They made almost no noise, only brushing the tabletop. "Changed my name and everything."

Leon, seemingly annoyed by the light thumps he was making with his own fingers, brought his hand up in a fist and rested his cheek on it.

"And now there's Ellone. And you," he added on at the end. It sounded sort of accusing, as though he was blaming them for dragging his past life into a collision course with his present, although Leon probably hadn't meant it in that way.

"It wasn't your fault." Cloud let the statement hang in the air.

"What was?"

"The way they all disappeared."

Leon directed a hard gaze at his plate. "You can't say that for sure."

"You couldn't have taken on all the Heartless by yourself." Cloud knew this just as well as Leon. Even Sora had had Donald and Goofy on his quest.

"They relied on me. I was supposed to protect them."

"They all knew how to fight. They weren't helpless."

Leon sighed. He put his elbows on a table and threaded his fingers together in a thinking pose. "I know."

"You were just...lucky."

"I know."

The two of them were going to great lengths not to so much as glance at each other during the whole conversation. Leon obviously did not want to be told something he himself knew deep down, but Cloud (surprisingly) felt like he had a lot to say. It seemed so rude though, like he was going to be giving commentary on a movie that just happened to be Leon's life story.

Instead, "Don't make yourself lonely, Squall."

The other didn't so much as budge at the use of his former identity. "Same to you, Cloud," he replied cooly. Bullseye.

It was one thing to be surrounded by people, but it was something different to integrate with them. The two of them understood this quite well; they had just taken different paths to achieve the same result. Leon had taken on the role of a leader, too responsible and work-oriented to really approach as a casual companion. Sure, the girls entertained him with embarassing stories about Cloud, but none of them really approached him as a close friend. Only Yuffie, who was amiable with everyone, could ignore this quality and thoroughly pester Leon.

On the other hand, Cloud had taken the route of a true loner up until a few months ago. Even now, he didn't converse much. He was available mostly at the end of the day when he'd magically appear for dinner made by someone else who was a much better chef than himself.

"It's weird," Leon commented.

"Huh?"

"You knowing everything about me."

"Ahh..." Well, there was no denying that.

"I don't like it." The statement was true, no doubt, but it lacked hostility.

Cloud shrugged. "Nothing I can do about it."

"Well...at least I wasn't forced to wear a dress I guess." Leon smirked. A challenge.

Cloud glared. "At least I wasn't a crybaby as a kid."

"Yuffie offered to show me a picture." Cloud had really hoped the Heartless had swallowed all of those up.

"I've got a lot more dirt on you than that," he offered up in reply, leaning forward on the table. The plates and bread crumbs were long forgotten on the wooden surface.

"But you have no proof," Leon countered, clearly enjoying this standoff.

This was probably the longest conversation they'd had with each other so far. It was eccentric in a way, because they threw verbal jabs at each other like old friends. It was something Leon hadn't been able to do in a long time. Aerith looked pleasantly surprised when she walked into the kitchen that morning.

~~~

Metal clashed against metal, strength trying to overcome strength. The two of them were sparring now, as suggested by Aerith since they were now, as she put it, "getting along so well."

Leon no longer used the gun aspect of his weapon, although according to him, there were still bullets loaded. Instead, he had switched to conjuring fireballs that had somewhat better range. There was no doubt that those shots were something to watch out for; Leon still had exceptional accuracy from his gunblade training. He also knew when the opportunity was right to use them.

Cloud thought fast on his feet. He kept First Tsurugi wrapped up most of the time, so he rarely utilized the sheer arsenal of sword types. He could fly though, something that seemed to annoy Leon to no end. It was the quickest way to put the other on defense, although he had to make sure he didn't end up with face full of fire when he swooped in to attack.

Who knows how long they had been fighting. He assumed Leon was keeping track of time, seeing as he had actual duties to attend to.

Cloud moved in on ground. He had a slight speed advantage over Leon despite his huge sword. The other moved his gunblade between them for a block but suddenly seemed distracted. He slid backwards from the impact of First Tsurugi but then pushed up and manuevered his gunblade out from underneath. In one fluid motion, he swung down and gently pushed Cloud's sword to the ground. The tip hit the ground with an unpleasant thunk that sent a slight vibration up Cloud's arms.

"Hold on for a second." Leon sat down, taking the opportunity to wipe the thin film of sweat off his forehead. Cloud stood there inquisitively, watching the other zone out. He was getting pretty warm too. He pulled of the sleeve concealing his left arm and took a seat next to the now passive gunblade.

"She's calling," was all Leon told him, who then went back to staring absentmindedly at the sky.

Cloud tried to steady his breath after all the exercise they had just gotten. He looked around, taking in the nice weather, but his gaze eventually fell upon Leon's scar. It seemed to come out of habit after doing the same in his dreams. Or at least, that's what he told himself. He was staring, but not into a mirror. Now it was the real thing. And now he had the urge to run a finger down Leon's forehead, tracing the path of his scar.

Leon stood up suddenly. Cloud blinked, caught very obviously off-guard at the moment.

"Come on," Leon told him, picking up his gunblade while for motioning Cloud to follow with his other hand.

Cloud moved slowly to his feet. "Where to?"

"To give you a proper introduction with my sister." Leon sounded quite proud saying that. Cloud wondered what the two of them had talked about. So much time had passed since their last real meeting, yet Leon still called her his sister. They must have been close before she left.

Cloud heard a feminine laugh in the back of his mind. You really shouldn't stare.

What? Oh. He pretended to clear his throat so he could bring his hand up to cover his face, which had turned a bit red at the moment.

Leon smirked at Cloud's attempt to hide himself. "So you 'care about me,' huh?" he pried. Cloud just scowled in response. The two of them were conspiring against him!

Leon turned around and moved to block Cloud's linear walking path. The other came to a sharp halt lest he knock heads rather ungracefully with this sudden intruder. But their heads were awfully close at the moment anyway. Close enough for a nice headbutt, or perhaps for other things as well.

The atmosphere changed from light-hearted to serious in a split second. Cloud tried not to meet eyes with him at first but everntually realized that his attention was desired at the moment. He looked up, wincing a bit at the sunlight that had entered into his vision.

"So tell me," Leon began, "am I just disillusioned?"

It was a vague question. One that Cloud understood the context to quite quickly.

"Maybe," Cloud breathed, but made the sarcasm very apparent in his gaze and the taunting look he was giving the other.

"I see." Leon smirked again, "I guess I'll just have to keep on hallucinating then."

"Guess so," Cloud replied. Their eyes didn't move. They were having a rather awkward moment, Cloud thought in the back of his mind. "Well?" he queried.

"I was waiting for you to make up your mind."

"Oh." Leon was in total control over him. It was embarassing. And frustrating.

Cloud rolled his eyes at Leon's amused face and moved in for the kill. His lips met Leon's expectant ones in a short, forceful yet innocent gesture. To his surprise, the lips he had just kissed curled into an honest smile. It was something he'd never seen in his many dreams. Leon hadn't exactly practiced being friendly and amiable in a mirror.

"Won't your sister be wondering where we are?" Cloud asked, finally breaking the chain of silence.

"Ah, yeah." Leon backed up a few steps. "We'll...finish this later."

"Is that a promise?" Cloud asked as the two of them began their walk side-by-side.

"Guess so," Leon shrugged, although they both knew the real answer. The conversation went to silence then, but it was much less tense than a few days ago. And maybe it was a different sort of tension now.

About a mile in to their walk, Leon opened his mouth. "You know, she could be your sister too."

"What?"

Leon murmured into his ear, blowing on the Fenrir earring Cloud was wearing. "She'd just have to be your sister-in-law."

Cloud snorted. "In your dreams, Leonhart."

~End~

A/N: That was by far the longest fanfic I have written in ages. I felt like it got sort of convoluted along the way, but maybe that's because I didn't plan it out fully. ._.;

[Fangirling] Himitsu 14 + writer's block

Thu, 10 Jul 2008 13:26:56 GMT

Oooh goodie, new Himitsu opening! Much more Maki oriented, I must say. Actually...it's just that the shots of Aoki standing there with Maki have increased. Hmmm. *mind wanders*

Aoki, why are you holding a gun in the intro? I have never seen you hold one, much less fire it. Go back to piloting your helicopter, you oaf. x3 Unless of course, the gun is somehow related to Maki...again.

I like Amachi. I'm glad she hasn't been killed off (at least, not yet) like in the manga. Actually, I like most of the cast. They're awesome. :D

So this episode had a lot to do with...well, same-sex love and red high-heeled shoes. I shouldn't give it away, since it's sort of like a mystery anime. It was pretty funny though when they were spying on the lady at the love hotel. Okabe wanted Aoki to sort of "play the part" and Aoki freaks out. xD

I'm enjoying this series quite a bit. It's different from the manga in many ways, but that doesn't really bother me.

I've spent the last 3 or 4 days mulling over a fanfic. Usually I write late at night (don't ask me why, I have no idea) and then read it over when I wake up. Unfortunately, this fanfic has spun into a monster, and I don't know how to end it. I'll need to sleep on it more.

[Review] Himitsu (Top Secret)

Thu, 26 Jun 2008 02:08:53 GMT

So I happened upon a new anime last night. It's Himitsu (Top Secret) ~ The Revelation. I then proceeded to get obsessed and watch it till four in the morning haha.

The gist is that years in the future, MRI is used to examine brains of the recently deceased of violent crimes. Government Section 9 is given the duty of looking into the memories of the dead and uncovering their secrets, hence the title of the show. The show starts with Aoki Ikkou, the newly appointed member to the group.

So after getting properly obsessed, I tracked down the first few chapters of the original manga by Shimizu Reiko. Wow...they made quite a few changes. The tone of the anime seems to be somewhat darker (mostly because of characterization), although the manga seems to have a bit more gore so far.

I guess I'd classify it as psychological anime; my type of thing. I like the music too. There's this one song with drums when they're examining brains...very catchy haha.

The manga makes my shameless slash radar go off lol. Lots of hand-grabbing and whatnot. Anyway, enjoy!

[Fic] Compelled

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 23:12:10 GMT

Fic: Compelled
Fandom: X (or X/1999)
Pairing: Seishirou/Subaru
Rated: PG-13
Warning: Spoilers for volume 16
Summary: For a moment he wasn't in control of himself.

He didn't see it coming; didn't realize anything till that moment had passed. Large amounts of dust and debris had been kicked up in the sheer destruction they had caused within the kekkai. A few sakura petals too were mixed in, floating harmlessly about despite their use as weapons just moments before. Subaru could see the Sakurazukamori's figure only vaguely as particles of rubble continued their descent to the ground.

Subaru was off-guard. That was the opportunity Seishirou wanted, and the both of them knew it. The silhouette disappeared, darting off into some random direction. Subaru's eyes scanned the clouds of dust for some sign of a tall man in with a billowing coat. It only took a second for Subaru to whirl around and find his predator coming quickly for him.

He didn't fight it. As the other man closed in, Subaru saw his arm raise into its killing position. The Sakurazukamori's hand was poised to stab through his slender body, destroying him in a storm of flower petals like his sister. It was honestly a bit hard to imagine that a hand would be able to pierce anything instead of buckling under the strength of bone, but he knew better than to question the effectiveness of the technique.

Seishirou reached striking distance. He wore that smile he always had, innocent and charming, although in reality the man rarely fit that description. Subaru berated himself for years for allowing himself to be tricked by it. The man was not a kind-hearted veterinarian; he was a lying killer. But Subaru fell so hard for the lie. Some days he even tried to convince himself that he could be content if the other man reconstructed that facade right now. It would be like the days of the bet, just...without his sister. Sometimes he thought he could be satisfied like that, but most of the time he knew Hokuto's murder would continue to haunt his memories.

Subaru didn't know whether to keep his eyes open or shut them tight for the blow. It seemed morbid to observe his own death, especially when he knew it was coming. His ponderings, however, never reached a conclusion. In that instant, Subaru felt something take him over. He wasn't in control of himself for one brief moment. He couldn't think, couldn't understand what was going on. All he knew was that something compelled his left hand to mimic the movements of it's counterpart's. But then it moved faster.

He'd understand later that that something turned out to be fate.

He heard people calling his name, but it didn't process. He didn't even recognize the voices. All he saw was his left hand covered in blood. It withdrew itself when Seishirou fell to the ground, red pools all over their clothes and the bridge. It was a distinctly gross sensation, feeling his hand move through the body. Both their breaths were shaking slightly; his from horror and the Sakurazukamori's from struggling to hold on.

Subaru gripped the other man tightly with the very hand he had used to kill him, still dyed crimson and dripping. It seemed so grotesque and even blasphemous, but he just couldn't let go.

[Review] No Regret + Lain

Tue, 27 May 2008 04:09:51 GMT

Recently, my friend dragged me into a movie shop and we browsed through the gay film section. Needless to say, it was...interesting. xD We didn't rent any, but I got bored and Youtubed some stuff.

I eventually got to the movie No Regret, a Korean film. It was nice, although the ending was bit strange. I don't want to go into detail since it would give spoilers, but the movie was quite sad at times, but sweet in a lot of others. I would recommend it. :)

My exploration of crunchyroll led me to Serial Experiments Lain. I watched through the first two episodes. Very....trippy, as I expected. I actually want to watch Texhnolyze too, which I think is by the same person.

恋愛診断 1 - 3

Sun, 11 May 2008 08:17:26 GMT

Finished watching the first arc of Renai Shindan. I just sort of...stumbled onto it. It had Chinese subs, so I couldn't comprehend much from there besides the characters for "what" and "good." xD The dialogue was okay, and I was able to get most of it, but I kind of zoned out whenever he started talking about Ikarus and Daedalus.

Ah, how sad! I thought to myself at the end, "I wonder which one dies," but as it turns out, one doesn't die; he's just beat into a vegetative state. T_T Poor boy. I liked him best because he was so soft-spoken. That last scene was quite heart-wrenching to see him like that.

[Fic + PIKL] The Boyfriend

Wed, 07 May 2008 04:22:21 GMT

Fic: The Boyfriend
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Rated: PG?
Warning: Spoilers for the end of PoT.
Summary: What was worse than Kaidoh...?

What was worse than Kaidoh-buchou, Horio thought to himself, was the Buchou's boyfriend (and how Horio of all people, had discovered this well-guarded secret was a mystery in and of itself).

Inui-senpai went to a high school relatively close to Seigaku. He always appeared everyday after school without fail. Sometimes he was there, glinting maniacally, near the end of practice, or other times he showed up 10 to 15 minutes after it ended. Inui stayed with Kaidoh as he waited for the rest of the team to leave, and then they walked off together.

No one thought much of it, or at least, never questioned it. Horio kept his mouth shut about his knowledge because he had a pretty good idea what would happen if he breathed a word of it to his peers.

So then all was well in the tennis club at Seigaku. The team trained hard, hoping to earn a spot as a regular and uphold the championship title.

And then one day, Kaidoh gathered everyone around with a command accompanied by a menacing hiss.

Horio feared the worst. Granted, Kaidoh-buchou was still giving a stoic, if not slightly annoyed and menacing, face, but this was not a usual occurence.

Kaidoh hissed. "Today you have a guest coach," was all he forewarned. All the club members from previous years tensed up as soon as they realized Inui had snuck up behind them, an evil grin on his face.

Horio almost cried.

Most newcomers were immediately wary of Inui, but none of the others would tell them what terror was about to come next.

Inui opened his notebook. It was still had a green cover, but it was a different one from last year. "Hmm...let's start with 25 laps."

-~-

Horio, Katsuo, and Kachio had all improved nicely. Arai, who was now a regular, was trying noticeably create his own individual style of play. Momoshiro had gotten stronger as well, and sometimes he liked to be buchou for the team, much to Kaidoh's irritation. The two of them made a nice coaching combination, however. Inui noted most of this down in his new notebook.

As for the newcomers, well, most of them had not survived the day without a taste of his juice. No one had felt like warning them of the dangers of their "guest coach."

But Kaidoh had proved to be most interesting. Kaidoh seemed to take on the stern Tezuka approach to training the team. Certainly, he had been stoic, even angry, during practice the previous school year, but now Inui sensed that Kaidoh was mimicking him just a bit. Maybe even resembling.

Kaidoh hissed as the last member, a first-year, hobbled out the door with a conspicuously queasy look on his face.

"Maybe you overdid it," Kaidoh commented. The after-effects on this latest concoction seemed last quite a deal longer than ones from the previous year.

"He is merely dehydrated," Inui assured. Had he drunk more water, the ill feeling would have worn off before the end of practice. Clearly, this was no fault of Inui's.

Kaidoh hissed. "Thanks for helping out, Inui-senpai." He gathered up his raquet bag and the small duffel containing his clothes and towel.

"My pleasure, Kaoru." Kaidoh didn't look surprised at the use of his given name, but his face turned a bit pink. Inui slung his own green duffel over his shoulder and then proceeded to give the Seigaku tennis team captain a slow, lingering kiss in the club room that Inui could no longer use regularly.

"Sadaharu," Kaidoh replied hesitantly. He felt the urge to add on a "senpai" at the end, but he tactfully turned it into a light hiss. Inui smiled.

Outside, Horio hid from the window's view. He really wished he hadn't forgotten his towel in there.

A/N: I was going to title this differently, but I was afraid of spoiling the end for people...