Sure and Simple

Jin's writing blog. You'll find mostly drabbles and musings here. AO3 account is the_aberrant.

[falchionpunch]

Day 9: Baseball Diamonds

"Mafia? Sounds like a fun game!"

Gokudera's yelling at him again, saying that the Mafia is not a game. Yamamoto rubs the back of his neck as he tries to calm his classmate down, reassuring him that he thought that the Mafia was a very serious game. Not just any game, but one that sounded like a lot of fun.

Life was a stage and the Mafia was just another scene change for him.

Yamamoto's been playing at this charade for as long as he can remember, ever since he squeezed Mother's hand, too young to understand why her grip was so weak, ever since his father came stumbling home one day with tears and snot running down his face (he can't forget the strong smell of sake that clung to his father's clothes that night).

He claps Gokudera on the shoulder, tells him that he's going to pop a vein if he doesn't settle down, which only seems to make the "right hand man" angrier (maybe it's code name for pitcher, someone really important to the game that Tsuna's been thrust into).

Life is but a baseball diamond to him (you never know when you'll strike out).

[falchionpunch]

Day 8: "Boxing"

By now, Kyoko knows that "boxing" isn't actually a pair of boys circling each other in their underwear, oven mitts on their hands.

She lets Onii-chan believe that this is what she thinks that both of those terms actually mean. Sometimes, he stumbles home with a cut on an arm that couldn't possibly have been inflicted in a boxing match, and no sumo wrestling tournament should have left him that battered and bruised. Onii-chan isn't big enough for sumo wrestling anyways.

"Boxing" is a group of men with guns in their hands and "sumo wrestling" is conducted by groups of men who fully intend on wrestling to the death for their Bosses.

Seven years later, they're the same as they've always been. Onii-chan stumbles through the door with a new cut on his face. Kyoko peers out the kitchen where she's been preparing dinner, eyes widening at the blood streaming from his forehead.

Onii-chan doesn't seem to notice Kyoko's surprised expression as he belts out his typical greeting of, "Tadaima, Kyoko! Today's boxing match was really extreme! So extreme that I ended up with a cut on my face again!"

Kyoko's already running down the hall to collect a cold cloth, disinfectant, gauze pad, and medical tape in a small basket. "Was it fun today?" she asks him as he enters the kitchen, before she lays a hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly asserting that he wasn't getting away before she cleaned the cut.

Onii-chan gets the hint and sits down quietly. There was no getting away from Kyoko when she was concerned. Even in Namimori Middle, it was always Kyoko who patched him up. In their parents' eyes, boxing was a ruffian's sport, no place for a Sasagawa (Father was a businessman and Mother was a lawyer). A Sasagawa belonged in the classrooms with excellent marks on their exams. She still remembers the way that Mother and Father would pat her head because a Sasagawa should always be in at least the top ten percent of their class.

She remembers that they had stroked her hair and asked, when she was very little, whether or not she'd been harmed. Onii-chan had been the one with the cut on his face (and it's still there to this day, still there to remind her).

Kyoko dabs at the cut on Onii-chan's forehead with the cloth before soaking its clean end with disinfectant. "Ah, sorry, Onii-chan. This will sting a bit," she says as she presses it against his cut. Onii-chan doesn't make a peep, but she can tell that he's trying not to yell. Even at twenty-two, he's still a big baby to her.

She tapes the piece of gauze to her brother's forehead. "Does it hurt?"

"No way! I wasn't extremely hurt, you know. It was an extremely small cut!"

Kyoko clicks her tongue. "Onii-chan, even if it's small, I still need to take care of it."

Onii-chan shakes his head. "Kyoko, you're probably extremely busy, aren't you? You need to worry about yourself." But he stops speaking, suddenly, because Kyoko's squatting slightly to be eye-level with her older brother.

"I know I don't need to take care of it, Onii-chan," she says with a smile (she wonders if she looks like Mother with that expression on). "But I want to, okay? I don't mind patching you up after your boxing practices or sumo tournaments. You'll let me put band-aids on your face when you're old and wrinkly too, right?"

"Kyoko, that's weird. That's extremely weird."

"Onii-chan!"

He laughs, and it's a sound that's loud and clear, a sound that she hopes will never fade. "I'm kidding!"

"Onii-chan, you don't think it's weird?"

This time, he snorts, and it's still a sound that Kyoko hopes that she'll never stop hearing. "Of course not! I'm happy if you're happy. I'm extremely offended if you don't know that by now!"

Kyoko clocks playfully him in the shoulder; all she needs is Onii-chan's expression to reaffirm that he probably regrets teaching her how to punch a man properly.

[falchionpunch]

Day 7: Tuna Fish

Squalo seemed happy as a clam to be eating the fish like, well, like a shark.

"You... ate the whole thing."

"I was pretty fucking hungry, all right."

"Squalo, I was going to cook it for you."

"I wouldn't eat anything that you cooked. I don't trust your shitty cooking anyways." Dino is vaguely offended by Squalo's statement, but he doesn't have enough time to defend himself. "I'll pay you back the next time I see you."

The blond shakes his head at the teen who he's somehow ended up acquainting himself with. He's not really sure how it happened, only that no one wanted to be Squalo's partner when it came to team calculus (which was strange, because Dino didn't think there was anything very collaborative about math). He knew a thousand and one different ways to slice up a body, but when it came to theorems and deriving, Dino believed that the swordsman was a lost cause.

Then again, straight killing didn't take many calculations other than timing.

"Dino."

"Eh?"

"You'll fucking regret it if you don't accept my gift. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"All right, all right. I'll be sure to accept your gift."

--

"Superbi?"

"It's Squalo."

"Uh. Squalo, you're not... actually a shark, are you?"

"What the fuck, Cavallone. Do you have a death wish?"

"J-just kidding! You can put your sword away, thanks."

--

He doesn't anticipate that Squalo would return the very next day after classes with a freshly-caught tuna fish the size of him. It's at least ten times, maybe fifteen times, as big as the fish that he'd intended on roasting for Squalo (he'd even offered to cook the food for the swordsman).

Dino blinks as Squalo presents the giant fish to him by its tail.

"You better fucking take it, Cavallone," his classmate hisses. "I caught it with my bare hands. You better fucking take it and be a grateful for what I've done."

"Squalo, I don't think this constitutes as a gift if you're forcing it on me -- "

"Are you going to take the fish or not?"

Dino rubs the back of his neck. He knows Squalo well enough that he really should take the fish from him, but he shakes his head anyways. What was he supposed to do with it? Better yet, he was at a loss about how he was supposed to bring it back to the Cavallone estate without anyone raising any brows.

He shakes his head along with a hand. "You should hold onto it," he says. "In, er, in case you get hungry, right?"

--

In hindsight, Dino realizes that, fifteen years ago, he probably should have graciously accepted Squalo's tuna with a nod of the head. Sometimes he wonders if Squalo feels a little smug on the inside whenever Dino accepts his gifts now. On the other hand, it's become routine, even when the Vongola Famiglia goes into hiding: Squalo catches a giant tuna, Dino accepts it because he knows that Squalo will bring two with him the next time around if he doesn't.

Dino knows best; that's the kind of man that Superbi Squalo is. In time, Sawada Tsunayoshi will learn that himself (he wonders if Yamamoto has already discovered it).

He knows everyone's eyes are trained on him as he takes his leave, giant tuna and all.

Nobody asks any further questions.

--

It's just like being in school again when Squalo would pick Dino as a partner when it came to tag-team spars; facing off against bloodthirsty Millefiores with the swordsman at his side sure brings back memories.

Dino tightens his grip around his whip as Squalo's prosthetic hand transforms itself into his trademark blade.

"Hey, Squalo," Dino says as the two true Funeral Wreaths take steps towards the two of them.

"If you're worried about Yuni and the others, worry about not getting your shitty self killed first, Bronco." It's a typical Squalo response.

"No, I was just thinking, you need to bring me another giant tuna after we win this fight."

Dino sees Squalo's lips curl back into a snarl before twisting itself in a grin.

"What the fuck, Cavallone," the silver swordsman says before the two of them rush forwards.

[falchionpunch]

Day 6: Only Human

Something soft presses itself against his cheek; it feels like a ball of feathers settling on his right shoulder. He glances down as a quiet and concerned chirping comes from it. His attention is wholly focused on the yellow canary, and for the first time, Hibari finds himself struggling desperately to keep an urgent grasp on his consciousness.

Focusing on Hibird is the only thing that's keeping him awake.

"Did you think, perhaps, that if there were one hundred less of us, you would have won?"

The air in the warehouse grows colder by the second. Hibari can see his breath; it's a white wisp of air. He can almost see himself disappearing with it, and for the first time, he tastes true, unadulterated fear.

The man's face is obscured by a white mask, and even from a few inches away, Hibari's vision isn't clear enough for him to identify its face. All he feels is a dull throbbing in his side as something sharp presses back into a bleeding gash. He's vaguely relieved that he is too weak to actually cry out in pain. Even while leaning against a frozen, metal wall, barely alive, all he can think of is how he would prefer to die without letting his enemy know just how much all his injuries are hurting him.

Still, he's not about to give his enemy the satisfaction of giving in.

"Did you think, perhaps, that you should still be able to move even with injuries like yours?" He can hear the man grinning behind the plastic as fingers curl around the front of his bloody suit. "Actually, you're right. I came prepared. An animal like you sometimes needs to be put down with the help of something special."

Hibari's lips curl back ever so slightly into a growl, breaking into a hiss as the knife finally leaves his body.

The target wipes the blade clean with a sleeve before sheathing the weapon. "I think you should be grateful that I've arranged your final moments for the battlefield as opposed to allowing age to wither you away. Think of it as dying nobly."

And with those words, the man is gone, leaving the Cloud Guardian alone with the canary.

He doesn't understand those final words. There is nothing noble about dying.

But the man was right. If he was given the ability to choose how to go, he would choose leaving the world with his face covered in blood and bodies strewn around him as opposed to plastic tubes attached to his body.

He wills himself to speak when he feels the bird quake against his cheek. "... hey," he says, "you should leave."

"... you can go."

But the canary doesn't leave, only presses itself harder against his neck, as if trying to keep him warm, making soft tweets for its master to focus on.

Only when Hibird's chirping grows even more urgent does he realize that he is not the only warm body (barely) in the area. He's not sure when exactly it happened, but he can hear someone calling his name (a woman?) repeatedly and shaking him by the shoulder. He doesn't need to be able to see her clearly when it comes to identifying the newcomer.

He can sense Chrome Dokuro's Mist flames blindfolded.

"Hibari-san!" she whispers, voice caught in her throat as if she needs to force his name from her lips.

All he says to her is a faint, "Go," because their target's gotten away and it's up to her and the Sun Guardian to succeed where he has failed.

"No."

Metal clatters against the floor as the Mist Guardian drops her trident and eases Hibari's hand off his open wound, pressing her own hands against them. He knows what she's trying to do, trying to temporarily knit the skin together using her illusions, and while the new skin does appear, it fades away quickly.

He knows that they are only illusions.

He knows that it is not real.

"Hibari-san, please," she begs him. "Please, let me do it."

Chrome presses two fingers against the Cloud Guardian's neck and pales when she can feel it physically slowing, body shutting down as he bleeds out, as the toxins work through his system, as it gets harder for him to cling to consciousness.

His gray eyes shift towards the entrance of the freezing building when its metal doors clang open, accompanied by an urgent, "Hibari!"

If he had enough strength, he would have picked up one of his stray tonfas lying off to the side and hurled it at the Sun Guardian for being loud and revealing their location to any potential reinforcements that their target sent. But he doesn't, which makes him loathe the position he's in even more. The most he can manage is trying to slow and control his breathing, make it seem that his lungs aren't struggling with every breath he takes.

There's a flash of yellow light; Hibari can barely make out the form of Ryohei's box animal. What he does feel is Kangaryuu's regenerative warmth washing over his body. But when the warmth fades away, Hibari is still cold.

There are fingers clutching the front of his shirt, but these fingers are desperate and not facetious; the voice that speaks to him is urgent and laced with pain. "Hibari, you better not die," the Sun Guardian hisses, and the Sun box animal tries even harder than before to make the Cloud Guardian's wounds close.

Hibari manages to lift a hand to Ryohei's wrist, weak fingers steeped in red clinging to the black cuffs of his suit.

They need to leave before the enemy returns.

"Stop," Hibari breathes, reduced to only speaking in in one-word sentences. "... stop."

He can hear Chrome crying as Ryohei's hand squeezes his.

Ryohei squeezes his eyes shut. "If we hadn't been stopped by that scum's reinforcements earlier, we would have gotten here faster -- "

"Ryohei."

The Sun Guardian opens his eyes.

"... stop."

"Hibari-san -- "

"Stop."

She doesn't know what he's telling her to stop doing until something wet rolls down her cheek.

Hibari nods slightly in Hibird's direction, the taste of blood growing stronger in his mouth. The canary blinks before chirping angrily, as if protesting against leaving its master's side. Chrome's fingers hesitate, but eventually she manages to wrap them around the yellow bird's body, gently prying the canary away from the Cloud Guardian.

Ryohei raises a fist and drives it into the ground; the concrete splinters beneath his knuckles.

"... Ryohei-san."

He drives his fist into the concrete again.

"Don't talk to me now, Chrome."

"... Ryohei-san, he's gone."

Briefly, Chrome thinks that Hibird understands those words better than the Sun Guardian. She's not very surprised; Hibari was indestructible to the two of them.

Today, Chrome learns that Hibari Kyoya was human too.

Only when she hears a faint singing of an old song does she realize that there are tears in Ryohei's eyes too. It is Hibird who is singing. The canary sings the familiar words of "Midori tanabiku -- "

But not even Hibird can find it in itself to finish the song as Ryohei lifts into his arms the cold, lifeless body of what was once Vongola Decimo's Cloud Guardian. His tears that drip onto Hibari's face mix with the red streaks on his cheeks.

Briefly, it occurs to Chrome that she's never seen Ryohei handle anything with such tenderness and care until she watches him lift the corpse off the floor and hold the Cloud Guardian against his chest.

[falchionpunch]

Day 5: Important Dates

Tsu-kun’s calendar hasn’t moved an inch on his desk. It had been Kyoko’s idea to keep it, all in the name of helping him be less forgetful. She lifts the little desk calendar, smiling quietly at the little photograph of the two of them tucked away in the corner.

Today is April 24th, and there is a large, red circle marking the date of March 4th. It’s messy and haphazard, as if Tsuna had been careful to circle the square as quickly as possible. Kyoko smiles to herself at the sight of a scribble at the center of the circle. It looks a little like a heart.

"Oh?"

She blinks as something warm runs down her cheek (a tear?) and hastily wipes it away with the back of her hand. 

Tomorrow is April 25th.

Tomorrow, she was supposed to wear a white gown with a white veil. Tomorrow, she was supposed to be the one with the bouquet of flowers clutched in her hands.

Tomorrow, she will wear a black dress with a black veil. Tomorrow, it will be Vongola Decimo lying in an open coffin with his hands folded over his chest.

[falchionpunch]

Day 4: A Gift

Vongola Decimo lifts a black fountain pen from the drawer of his desk (another gift from the Cavallone Famiglia) and presses the rounded top against his forehead, brow furrowing in deep concentration. He'd sent Yamamoto Takeshi where, last time? How many more days until Gokudera Hayato and Lambo returned to the Italian base? Where on earth were Rokudo Mukuro and Chrome? Was Hibari Kyoya in a good-enough mood to be taking requests without biting him to death?

He was never particularly good at remembering things. Back in Namimori, it had been historical dates and times-tables that he had to remember. While they had (occasionally) been important fact, getting one wrong meant a swift kick in the face from Reborn as opposed to getting a gun cocked against his temple.

Life is different from how it used to be in Namimori.

His eyes pore over the fifth request of the afternoon that he's gone through, and he does a double-take at the fact that this particular set of briefing notes reaches up to a hundred pages. It's another allied Famiglia asking Vongola Decimo for his aid in another raid against another oppressive Famiglia and --

"Yo, Tsuna!"

Well, there is one thing that certainly hasn't changed.

"D-Dino-san! When did you -- how did you -- " Eventually, Tsuna loses all coherence and settles for making a series of confused noises (because some things really never do change).

The head of the Cavallone Famiglia is one of them, aged, but has never lost the gleam in his eye, nor has he forgotten how to laugh. Albeit, he's finally cut his hair, but Tsuna still sees him with his olive jacket on, and the Cavallone boss still trips down the stairs if Romario isn't around.

Tsuna leans slightly to the left to peer behind Dino. "Ah, Romario, hello!" he says, to which Cavallone's shadow pushes his glasses up his face and returns the greeting with a friendly nod.

There's a frown on Dino's face as he leans over Vongola Decimo's mahogany desk. "Wow, Tsuna. Looks like you've got your work cut out for you today," the man says, glancing at the papers, but not long enough to look over their texts. "Five files? Seven files?"

"Um, five, actually. They're just really long. I mean, you can take a look at them if you'd like? I don't really mind," he says, gathering the papers strewn across his desk, only to shove them at Dino's chest.

Dino arches a blonde brow. "Hey, are you sure this is okay? It's your business --"

Tsuna shakes his head. "No, I've always valued your opinion! Besides, I really don't mind. It's been at least ten years since you stormed my house and ate all the food my mother cooked. ... I don't think she minded. I think she liked you."

"Your mother did?"

"Yeah."

A silence falls between them, and Tsuna begins to fiddle with his tie while Dino skims over each one of the papers. Dino knows Tsuna well, but Vongola Decimo's intuition coupled with the same amount of time that they have been brothers in arms tells him that Dino isn't actually reading everything on the pages (Tsuna doesn't blame him, particularly because he hasn't read the documents word-for-word just yet either).

As if on cue, Dino shoves the papers right back to the Vongola head. "Ah, I nearly forgot!" he begins (Tsuna knows that Dino didn't really forget; he's just trying to change the subject). "I brought something special for you." As soon as he's finished his sentence, two Cavallone men have already entered the room, each of them carrying an end of a handsome, scarlet couch. "I thought it matched the color of your carpeting pretty nicely."

Tsuna blinks. "Y-you didn't have to," he insists, shaking his head and both his hands at the same time. "Dino-san, you brought me this new desk just last week!"

"Your old desk was squeaking each time you wrote something on it! I could hear it all the way from the Cavallone estate!"

Vongola Decimo sighs; Cavollone is a stubborn man. A smile breaks across his face though because he's genuinely grateful that he can depend on Dino. "Thank you, Dino-san."

Dino grins. "In this country, it's gratzie."

"Gratzie?"

"Prego."

Tsuna frowns. "What?"

And Dino laughs, clapping him over the shoulder from across his desk. "Never mind. Don't hurt yourself. Just treat that couch well, okay?" he says, nodding off to the right where the two Cavallone men placed it earlier. They're long gone, and Tsuna assumes that they must have taken their leave while the two Mafia Famiglia bosses were conversing.

"Dino-san?"

"Hm?"

"Gratzie."

Dino blinks in bewilderment before an understanding smile breaks across his face.

"Prego."

[falchionpunch]

Day 3: Trust

Quite frankly, Hibari Kyoya was counting down the minutes when it would register in the Storm Guardian's head exactly how much he had known all along.

"You fucking bastard, just when I thought you couldn't get any worse!" the Storm Guardian spits in the Cloud Guardian's face.

Hibari's gray eyes narrow dangerously as he smacks Gokudera's arm aside with enough force to pry those fingers off of him. "Don't touch me," he warns, cold expression to go with a dangerously low amount of patience. It's already been three days since everyone had returned to their respective time period, but Hibari hasn't forgotten the bitter taste in his mouth at having to let his younger self finish the fight (it doesn't matter that it was still himself).

Gokudera has the eyes of an angry cat. "You fucking knew but didn't fucking tell anyone?"

"Sawada had me under omerta."

"Omerta? What kind of shitty excuse is that?"

"I didn't expect such a base person like you to understand."

"Shut the fuck up."

"No wonder Sawada never trusted that knowledge to you."

Not even a second manages to tick by before Gokudera's fist is flying at Hibari's face. But the Cloud Guardian has always been a step ahead of him (clouds always, always come before the storm), blocking the blow with an arm. Before Gokudera can move to kick Hibari instead, he's already on his back, Hibari's sharp knee sinking into his chest.

"Shall I kill you now, Gokudera Hayato?" he asks almost flippantly, using the man's full name. To most, it serves as a warning that he is losing his patience; right now, Gokudera is too angry to care.

But Gokudera will never blame the Tenth for his decision. He respects all of Vongola Decimo's rulings, but the fact that it had been Hibari Kyoya who had been entrusted with the most important details of his plan made him beyond livid. How dare Hibari not tell him that Tsuna had been alive when they dragged his body out of the Millefiore base, when they lowered him into his coffin, when Yamamoto's father had been killed (hearing that at least Tsuna was still alive would have given him so much more hope), when Ryohei didn't say a word for a whole week, when Lambo pounded on his door because he wanted a broken man to comfort him, when Kyoko began to force her smiles.

No wonder the fucker hadn't cried through the ceremonies like everyone else.

(Then again, Gokudera was still convinced that Hibari's lacrimal glands didn't work at all.)

"I dare you," Gokudera hisses like a cat that hasn't eaten in days. "I fucking dare you."

He's genuinely surprised that Hibari hasn't applied more pressure to his knee to stop him from talking. He knows that if he were in Hibari's position, he would have already slit his throat. If he were in Hibari's position, he would already be black and blue all over.

But instead, Hibari begins to speak (which catches Gokudera completely off guard). "Because you are an herbivore," he says (there he goes with his bizarre metaphors), "who allows its emotions to control its actions."

And for the first time in a very long time, Gokudera is at a loss for words. He clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms as Hibari tightens his grip on both his wrists ever so slightly. "What the fuck is wrong with you and your fucking analogies," Gokudera mutters, voice going from explosive to just barely seething because he knows that Hibari is right.

He knows why Vongola Decimo trusted Hibari and not him.

"You are the same as ever."

Hibari Kyoya is full of surprises. Before Gokudera can throw a response right back at the Cloud Guardian, Hibari has already released him and is busy casually fixing his tie.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You lose your temper at the drop of a hat."

"Says the psychopath who would do anything for a good fight."

The Cloud Guardian doesn't respond to that statement, only smirks, because Gokudera is right. Instead, his tonfas are suddenly in his hands (Gokudera still doesn't know how they seemingly materialize at Hibari's will). "Though if you think you'll get away unscathed after irritating me, you're mistaken."

"Bastard like you has a reputation to keep up."

And Gokudera doesn't say anything else because he doesn't want to risk being distracted when Hibari's attacking him.

[falchionpunch]

Day 2: Constellation

note: inspired by A. Ryutaro (有村竜太郎) "What if hearts could be connected like constellations?"

"Cloud man?"

"Hm?"

"Do you..."

"Spit it out, Dokuro."

She asks him the strangest of questions as they sit on the roof of her apartment, blankets draped over their shoulders. He blinks slowly, readjusting his gaze from the black sky to her violet eye. She pulls the blankets tighter around her, as if she can feel the cogs whirring in his head while processing her question.

"Stars can be light-years away from each other, Dokuro," he finally responds, as if that is a proper answer.

Chrome shakes her head. "N-no, I mean..." She cuts herself off and laces her fingers together. "Constellations? They're... They're pictures created when people connect stars, aren't they?" She lifts an arm, finger pointed at the sky as she begins to trace imaginary lines between each star.

"I-I think that one over there it -- it looks like a bear?"

"It looks nothing like a bear."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hibari watches Chrome deflate visibly. So he lifts his arm and points to the sky, tracing a line between the stars as well. "It's not a bear. It's a bird."

"A-A bird?"

"Yes."

Chrome frowns, deep in thought as she studies the network of stars that he has pointed out for her. She allows a small smile, then a slight nod. "It... it does look more bird than bear."

But the unsure expression is back on her face again.

"Cloud man?"

"Hibari."

"H-Hibari-san?"

"What is it now."

"I-I was thinking that... it looks a b-bit like Hibird?"

Now, it is Hibari's turn to frown, gray eyes glancing at the bundle of yellow feathers resting on his knee. The canary is fast asleep and breathing softly as he tugs on the blanket, pulling it tighter around a shoulder.

He feels a slight tug on the opposite end as Chrome wraps her side tighter around herself. It isn't uncommon for the two of them to sit together on the roof of her apartment and stare at the stars, but it had begun when Chrome, one day, took it upon herself to toss a spare blanket over him if he happened to fall asleep there.

One evening, he opened an eye and told her to stay awhile.

Chrome did most of the talking, and Hibari would only glance over his shoulder to look at her when she stopped. Sometimes, he would see her with her head tilted up to the sky, violet eye full of wonder. Other times, he would feel a weight on his left shoulder, head nestled comfortably on it (which is strange, considering that Hibari doesn't consider his shoulders a particularly comfortable place to rest a head).

Sometimes, it wasn't either of those, and he'd catch her looking at him.

"... Cloud man?"

"What do you want."

She points at the sky, tracing over the stars with an index finger. Hibari watches with an arched brow; she's taking longer than usual to draw out this particular constellation, nor can he tell what she's trying to draw out by following the movement of her hand. Finally, she laces her hands together, resting them quietly in her lap.

"... what did you see."

"I-I, um... I-I saw a pineapple."

"You saw a pineapple."

"Y-yes, I did -- but I, um, I-I also saw a cloud. Do you see it? Up there?" She has to use both her hands to point at the sky now. "Th-they share some stars though, b-but I think that's okay...?"

He yawns. "Spit it out, Dokuro."

Chrome lifts a hand, curling it slightly into a fist as it rests against her chest. She looks at him, then tilts her head to the sky again, eye filled with wonder. "I... I think that hearts can be connected like stars, maybe?" She can feel Hibari's eyes burning holes into her as if to demand a further explanation. "I, um, I-I was here by myself. N-no one knows where we are, Cloud man. B-but I found you? Boss too, and Bomber man, Ryohei-san, Yamamoto-san, um, L-lambo-chan."

"I, um, I-I found Mukuro-sama again too."

They'd compete against each other as they sat on the rooftop, making the loser whoever fell asleep first.

"Cloud man?"

She gets no answer, blinking as she realizes that tonight, she has won their little competition.

It isn't the first time that she's won, but it always catches her off guard to see him with such a peaceful expression on his face, without intense eyes, without a smirk that concealed his unique brand of blood lust. Only when she sees him sleep does she realize why he refuses to do so in areas with other people. Only then does he let his guard down (it's times like this where she's reminded that he's human too).

He either feels that Chrome is no threat to him, or he feels safe around her.

She shifts herself closer to him, pulling the blanket tighter around both of their shoulders. The yellow canary on Hibari's knee stirs, and she presses and index finger against her lips. The bird blinks, preens at a wing, before going still again and falling asleep.

Chrome reaches out, petting the canary's head with a finger. "Good night, Hibird," she says quietly, before glancing at the Cloud Guardian fast asleep at her side.

"Good night, Hibari-san."

[falchionpunch]

Day 1: The Plan

"... This is your plan?"

He's staring at a sheet of paper with mathematical equations and paragraphs of explanations that would make no sense to people who were left out of the loop of the three men crowded around the drawing room table. The lights are dimmed, the curtains drawn, a clear-cut warning for everyone to stay out (he can almost hear the Storm Guardian fuming about the meeting that he wasn't included in).

There's an exasperated expression on Sawada's face, but he doesn't look surprised. Instead, he responds with, "I know it's kinda weird, isn't it?" he says. "Irie-san here came up with most of it. I was never very good with physics."

The man with orange hair clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his face. If he thinks that Hibari trusts him, he is sorely mistaken.

But even the Cloud Guardian knows that they are out of options.

--

When Vongola Decimo asks him to switch the bullets, he says nothing. Nobody asks any questions when he slips away (modified bullet in his pocket) without a trace because they are accustomed to the Cloud Guardian's coming and going as he pleased. They don't question his decision to take on a mission alone either; he works best when no one else is around.

And traveling alone minimizes his chances of getting caught. He's completely composed while infiltrating the Millefiore's base, particularly because it's his second time here.

Briefly, he wonders if that is why Sawada has tasked him with this particular mission, but they're unimportant details that he doesn't need clouding his mind. So he presses further until he finds the Millefiore's drawing room that he had discovered the last time, long mahogany table in the center, outfitted with twenty-two chairs, each with their own terminal for virtual meetings. Ceremonial swords line the walls.

It's all quite flamboyant compared to the Vongola base, but Sawada was never one for extravagance. The scarlet couch that sat in the meeting room had been a gift from the Cavallone Famiglia (how like the Bucking Horse to give such a present).

There is already a pistol at the head of the table, loaded and cocked. Hibari arches a brow, impressed by how prepared the Millefiore Famiglia is for tomorrow's parley.

But Sawada Tsunayoshi is five steps ahead of Byakuran.

He slides a pair of dark gloves over his hands. Wiping his prints off the doorknobs had been easy, but getting rid of them thoroughly was a little harder with the bullets. He turns the gun over in his hands as if to weigh it carefully. .45 caliber, semi-auto.

Twenty rounds, not that they'll be needing all those bullets.

He produces a cartridge from a pocket on the inside of his jacket, replacing the gun's rounds with the new one. Modified bullets, straight from Giannini, meant to stop a pulse without truly ending a life (he doesn't question how it works; the mechanic's inventions, albeit useful, never made any sense). Only after he clicks the gun shut does he realize that everything has gone too smoothly. But he thinks to himself, perhaps he should not be so surprised. After all, for a Mafia Famiglia, signing a treaty is the equivalent to surrendering.

A smirk works its way across his face; they are sorely mistaken if they think that they have won.

--

"You speak as if there are no other options."

"That's because there are none, Hibari."

He's never been able to get a proper reading on Sawada. He has an herbivore's heart and a carnivore's resolution. Sometimes, he thinks that the only reason he has stayed to watch the Vongola's Boss is because he has never met an omnivore before.

"Hibari -- "

"Don't repeat yourself unnecessarily."

Sawada's smile grows ever so slightly wider, a warmth that not even Hibari is entirely immune towards. He smiles because he knows that he already has Hibari's answer.

"I can rest easy knowing that you'll be watching everyone."

"If you keep speaking like a dead man, Sawada, I'll have to kill you with my own hands."

--

The wind pounds against the window's glass as Sky enters, tailed by Storm, Rain, Sun, and Cloud.

Yamamoto glances uncomfortably at the blade at his side, as if he could slice the tension in the air with it. The natural-born hitman's eyes are trained upon the Storm Guardian, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Hibari watches silently as Gokudera chews on his lip, physically restraining himself from trying to convince Tsuna from signing the treaty.

Ryohei is uncharacteristically quiet.

"Bastard," Gokudera hisses as Byakuran lifts a gun off the table and spins it with an index finger. His humming is the only response he has for the Storm Guardian before catching the weapon.

"Relax, Hayato-kun. It's only for formalities," the man chimes in with a smile. "To make you remember who is in charge here, of course."

Hibari never sees Vongola Decimo lower his fountain pen, only hears the sudden gunshot ringing through the room, watches Gokudera scream with a paling face, watches Yamamoto stare in horror and reach for his sword, watches Ryohei lunge at a Millefiore member like an angry animal.

Blood pools from Tsuna's forehead.

Hibari Kyoya watches the scene unfold silently.

[falchionpunch]

ICU

Translated song lyrics.

It's a dangerous SHOW of sloppiness put on hundreds of times BIG PIG we call the bastards with all the money You and I are the MOB drained of all our blood We carry on unfinished The tightening of each and every day Not knowing whether or not this is all just a game

Growing weary of the days of our youth Ethics are like a black knife Without a doubt, it is solace If I don't wake up, I'll regret it even more I take a deep breath and run

It's a dangerous SHOW of sloppiness put on hundreds of times BIG PIG we call the bastards with all the money You and I are the MOB drained of all our blood We carry on unfinished The tightening of each and every day Not knowing whether or not this is all just a game

If I don't wake up, I'll regret it even more I take a deep breath and run

The only outspoken semblance of the media We are SOULS with a lot to say Don't just grunt and grumble, try laughing What makes us different is not absolute Why all the senseless strife? I do not know why everyone is this way BUT I KNOW WE ARE THE ONE

[falchionpunch]

Shining Star

That single star that no one knows about It's glowing ever so faintly I stand and forget where I'm supposed to be Show yourself to me, show me your light

Even if it grows dangerous, I won't break Give me strength MY SHINING STAR

What made my heart beat so long ago That dream of mine is going to take flight Yeah I'll be born again through your light I'll become a different person than I was yesterday

Now the boy unknown to the world Opens his eyes with a new purpose No one knows about the boy's star But it will light the world in all its darkness

Even if it grows dangerous, I won't break Give me strength MY SHINING STAR

What made my heart beat so long ago That dream of mine is going to take flight Yeah I'll be born again through your light I'll become a different person than I was yesterday

Don't forget it, bury it in your heart

If you weren't here, I would waste so much time The memory of the return of those dear to me It burns like a flame What made my heart beat so long ago That dream of mine is going to take flight Yeah I'll be born again through your light I'll become a different person than I was yesterday

I'll become someone who was stronger than the me of yesterday

[falchionpunch]

Blaze

This land is all right too Even if I'm afraid or hesitant it's fine too Because I'm not alone

A trial without any demeanor of deception Your form I saw quaking with fear I hid behind your back to protect you But reality has now made its appearance The warmth that brings me strength The voice that gives me faith I grabbed everything in these two unsteady hands Because now I have something to defend This land is all right too Even if I'm afraid or hesitant I know it's okay I don't have to worry at all I know I'll be caught so I'll be fine Now there's nothing that means ZERO to me, BLAZE! I'm not alone

Even if I don't have the things I want I don't have anything I want to throw away either I want to protect all and that alone is reason enough

This land is all right too Even if I'm afraid or hesitant I know it's okay I don't have to worry at all I know I'll be caught so I'll be fine Now there's nothing that means ZERO to me, BLAZE! Because I'm not alone If we can laugh all under the same sky Even if I'm a little bit afraid I know that I can win Under the one name inscribed within my heart Because there's another reason for my climb

It's all right if things get blurred I have the faith of others and it's enough to fuel me There's no reason to worry! This land is all right too Now there's nothing that means ZERO to me, BLAZE! I'm not alone without others

That's right, this is my BLAZE Because we are one

[falchionpunch]

Flag

Seething in the ineffectual clamor of those who felt the hot blood of my brethren Thank you, my brothers, for the raising of the flag to our victory Raise the flag of victory to the sky For all the little people, kick it!

The time has come for all to stand Swallow your tears if you were crying Get up, keep going forward If you want it, then take it

This is not a matter of being hungry or thirsty for one or two days Things that aren't meant to change will never change

Get up, keep going forward If you want it, then take it

Fight against it with both your fists to lift the flag (do it again) If you fall or faint lift the flag (moving again)

I love you, all my friends Thank you, my brothers, thank you Flowers will bloom even under a fallen fence The sun will still rise over a collapsed roof

Fight against it with both your fists to lift the flag (do it again) If you fall or faint lift the flag (moving again)

Get up, keep going forward If you want it, then take it

Get up, keep going forward If you want it, then take it

Flowers will bloom even under a fallen fence The sun will still rise over a collapsed roof

[falchionpunch]

Grow Up, Part 1

Yamamoto calls him frequently, but it isn't very often that the other man insists that Hibari stay on the line for more than three minutes. After all, Hibari is convinced that Yamamoto is the one who respects the space he needs the most, so it is rather out of the ordinary for his high school classmate to bother him for that long.

It is also incredibly rare for the man to request to see Hibari. Typically, Yamamoto had absolutely no shame in swinging by his apartment after closing up the family's sushi restaurant. It made Hibari vaguely uncomfortable with the entire situation, especially with the note of urgency that was in the aspiring baseball star's voice. Hibari knew better than most that Yamamoto's easy-going demeanor was not without a serious edge, but even for Yamamoto it was out of character.

"Hibari, c'mon. I'm just asking for ten minutes."

"No."

"Five minutes?"

"Yamamoto Takeshi, if you are wasting my time, I will make you regret it."

"Aha! Was that a yes?"

Hibari thumbed the red square on his phone with unnecessary force. He could hear in Yamamoto's voice that the idiot was going to continue bothering him until he agreed to meet. What he didn't understand was why the man had insisted upon meeting at the local Namimori playground. A playground meant people and noise. Separately, both made him irritable; together, they were absolutely unbearable. But he also trusted that Yamamoto did have something important to say, and whatever it was, it must have been so incredibly private that he needed to meet face-to-face in order to discuss it with him.

Which was precisely how Hibari found himself at the local Namimori Park sitting at Yamamoto Takeshi's side. The bench was slightly damp from the early morning showers, but it was the only available bench for the two of them. The local playground was always busy entertaining children, making it a popular meeting place for mothers after picking up their children from preschool.

The two twenty-year-olds stuck out in the area like sore thumbs.

Yamamoto leaned back against the bench with a carefree grin on his face. "Hey, Hibari, do you remember coming to this park as kids?" he asked, letting out a hearty bout of laughter when the other refused to respond. "I remember when Dad would bring me here, then he'd stop while we were going and say, 'I wonder what little Hibari is doing now.' That's when we would knock on your door, do you remember? You used to wait at the front gate for us!"

He only chuckles when Hibari glowers at him because it means that Hibari is feeling himself today. Yamamoto doesn't continue the description in the memory though; he knows that there is no need to remind Hibari of the true reason why the boy would wait by the gate. There was no need to remind Hibari that he would wait there because there was no one to take him to the park.

Yamamoto still remembers how Hibari would stay quiet the whole walk to the playground, and when they would get there, Yamamoto would ask Hibari about the cut on the other boy's hand.

He still remembers the angry look in Hibari's eyes that had caused him to stop asking about it.

"Don't beat around the bush, Yamamoto. If you came here to walk down memory lane with me, I'll bite you to death."

"Whoa whoa, wait a moment, I promise I called you here for a reason!"

Hibari raised a brow as Yamamoto as the baseball star fixed his gaze on the children taking turns going down the plastic slide. He raises the other brow as Yamamoto nods in their direction. Hibari frowns, not understanding an inkling of what his high school classmate felt was so important about all of these children. He doesn't particularly resent them, not at all, but he feels a sudden twinge of jealousy as he watches them with their carefree laughs, chasing each other all over the playground.

Yamamoto leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands folded to cradle his chin on the backs of them. "You don't feel drawn to any particular kid here, do you?"

The corner of Hibari's mouth twitches. "I'm not a pervert like you, Yamamoto Takeshi."

"Wh-what? No! No, not in that way! Just... you know. You don't feel anything familiar, maybe?"

Hibari's steely gray eyes narrowed dangerously. "There is something that you aren't telling me."

It was then that the baseball player raised his hands defensively. There wasn't going to be an easy way to explain things to Hibari. It was best to just bite the bullet and hope for the best, then. So he rubs the back of his neck, nodding in the direction of a four-year-old girl sitting on a swing, her dark hair pulled back into a neat braid.

"I came here to talk about her," Yamamoto responded. "I don't think you really know her though, and I don't think she really knows you."

"I don't understand you."

"Hibari, she has your blood."

It doesn't register in his mind until Yamamoto continues with his second statement.

"You... probably don't remember. It happened pretty long ago, I was told. I don't blame you, Hibari. I didn't think that you were frisky at that age though."

"Is this your idea of a sick joke, Yamamoto?"

"Hibari, don't be that way. She's your daughter."

He won't believe it. He refuses to believe it, but now the memories come crashing back about that heated Friday night, seventeen-year-olds who didn't know any better. Hibari glowers at Yamamoto, as if to growl how dare he throw this child in his direction.

"Her mother passed away recently with terminal illness. It was her wish for I-Pin to be raised by at least one parent."

"I don't care what her name is."

"Hibari -- "

He thinks, Yamamoto would make a better father than him anyways.

"Hibari -- "

Yamamoto's attempts to coax Hibari into accepting the truth are interrupted when the young girl approaches the pair shyly. She tilts her head curiously at Yamamoto, large, brown eyes focusing on the baseball player before landing on Hibari. Hibari meets her eyes with ferocity, but he does not show on his face how startled he is that the girl never backs off.

Perhaps she has her father's stubborn streak, even if she had her mother's eyes.

"I-Pin," Yamamoto begins with a warm smile. "Why don't you go back to the swings? The adults have some adult talking to do, all right?"

She is docile, nods quietly, before heading in the direction of an abandoned seesaw.

Yamamoto clasps his hands together. "Her mother gave me custody over her, Hibari. She knew you wouldn't accept I-Pin immediately." He laughs sheepishly before continuing. "It was good sense of her to do that, but now I'm the one with the hard job."

Only when Yamamoto lowers his voice again does Hibari realize that the easy-going baseball idiot is being completely serious. "Hibari, she wanted her daughter to grow up knowing at least one parent."

"No."

"I know what it's like to grow up without a mother, Hibari. I wouldn't want any other child to know the same feeling."

"We do not share the same sentimentality, Yamamoto."

"I know, I know. But I also know that you know best what it's like growing up without any parent around, right?"

The only thing stopping Hibari from grabbing Yamamoto's shirt by its front is the presence of other children. He's been cornered. Yamamoto is right; for all of Hibari's bark and bite, he would never wish for any child, no matter who they were, to suffer in such a manner.

Hibari watches I-Pin bounce herself up and down on the squeaky seesaw. Alone on the seesaw, she doesn't make it very far.

He rises from the bench once he's made his decision, and sits down on the other side of the seesaw. I-Pin raises her head to look carefully at Hibari, then glances over her shoulder to the bench where Yamamoto sat. Yamamoto grins and gives her a reassuring wave.

She remembers the words of wisdom that he provided for her, that the man she would meet today would be intimidating, but he meant well. There was something about him having a secret soft spot for children, but looking at his face void of any emotions (and those hard-edged eyes that looked at her like the eyes of an angry cat), it was difficult to believe that.

Still, Yamamoto had never lied to her.

Besides, deep down inside, she wanted to believe those words too.

I-Pin is lifted into the air by the seesaw when Hibari sits down, her tiny feet dangling freely. They don't say anything to each other, and they sit there quietly for five minutes.

When Hibari glances over his shoulder to look in Yamamoto's direction, he scowls at the cell phone that the baseball player has aimed in his direction.

The photo is probably going to Chrome, who will probably never let him live this down.

[falchionpunch]

Liar

At least, she will never believe those words coming from his lips. Instead, he looks down at the one-eyed girl, watching the erratic and shallow palpitations of her chest.

Breathe in. Breathe out. You're capable of it.

I know it.

"Are you truly that weak without him?"

He means what he says, for his mind tells him that the answer should be "yes", yet his heart continues to say "no".

Get up.

I know you can do it.

He lifts her hand, thumb rubbing against the smooth crest of her ring. "He has no use for a little animal like you."

"Show him that you are worthy."

He watches as a soft, indigo flame ignites from the ring, and he draws back the covers to watch her stomach rise, the empty cavity of her body filling itself with illusory organs. There will be a day when lies will no longer be able to sustain her body. After all, it isn't healthy to feed a mind lies to keep itself alive.

Then again, he has deluded himself for ten years. The truth is meant to set him free, but instead, it has tethered him with false hopes of being more than just another cloud in the sky.

Within the lies is the truth; within the truth are the lies.

As he goes to set her hand down, he thinks that she must have given his hand a slight squeeze.

It's just another lie.

"Mukuro-sama..."

There's a smirk on his face, because he knows that the words that have given her strength once again were his own and not the other man's.

But he's as good of a liar as either of them.