#s80

[19silvermirrors]

💙 A gift for Yamamoto's birthday, Squalo letting go of his oath.

[supplyside]

The launch of Spanish S-80 Plus-class submarine

[ririrum]

[na-nossa]

[nox-rambling-thougths]

Squalo often described the loss of his Sky (when he was frozen by Nono) like a cold that tore at his core, leaving only an aching void that made him want to scream until his throat was raw.

That's not what Takeshi feels when Tsuna dies.

It's not cold. It's a pain that burns deeply, making his knees hit the ground and his eyes tear up, his lungs hurt and his vision blur.

His flames explode and the world around him becomes blue. Everyone in the enemy base dies, drowned in his despair.

Afterwards, he's immeasurably glad Hayato did not come along. Takeshi wouldn't have forgiven himself if his friend got caught in the wreckage; nor was he sure of his own survival if Hayato had a similar reaction to the loss.

Storm flames were less corrosive than Wrath ones but only just; making the demise slow enough to feel it instead of instant vaporization.

There's no denial.

Not when he can feel his Sky's absence in his soul.

There's rage, though, a tryst for bloody revenge.

A need to return the pain a thousand times; to hunt and kill all of Byakuran's guardians so the Milfiore Boss could get a taste of what it meant to have your bonds torn.

Something he has learnt from both of his lovers (Squalo & Xanxus). Something he wouldn't have envisioned ten years ago, full of naive dreams and dull notions of glorified honor, but that nowadays came as easy as breathing as he no longer ran from the darkest parts of himself.

Tsuna would've hated it.

Even now, after Reborn, Takeshi's Sky had not wanted a full on war— refusing to give extermination orders. Leaving the Family to play defense when they should be focusing their efforts in taking the enemy out.

If Takeshi were a better man, he would do his best to honor his Sky's wishes.

He wasn't.

His smiles had long ago turned into threats, his hands drenched in blood, his heart turned towards the madness that permeated the Varia and his place as the Left Hand of the Vongola Don a comfortable spot to live.

With Tsuna dead, Xanxus was Undicesimo. The Varia were now Guardians. And the Vongola would have a red dawn to celebrate the ascension.

(Xanxus had separated from them the moment Mammon died, punching Tsuna and calling him weak before storming out of the room. Out the Mansion. Out of his life.)

(Squalo and him had sneered at each other over their crossed blades, feeling overprotective of their own hurting Skies. Both willing to maim and kill, brushing off any fondness and affection that has existed prior to the Arcobaleno's demise.)

His phone rang, almost deafening into the unsettling silence of the mass grave the Milfiore base had become.

Takeshi laughed, bitter and hollow, recognizing the tone: the soundtrack from Jaws.

“Rain Guardian,” Takeshi greets with blood in his mouth and teeth bared in a snarl.

Squalo inhales sharply, a curse in russian half aborted, before he was screaming at their third with uncharistic sobriety.

“Boss! Decimo is dead.”

Takeshi doesn't flinch; he bites down the sob that threatens to leave his throat.

“Trash.” Xanxus' voice remains as deep and firm as always. “Come home.”

Takeshi doesn't have a home anymore. Not really. But this is a command he will obey gladly.

Xanxus will give him the revenge he wishes for— the revenge Tsuna would never approve of.

“Yes, Boss.”

It hurts.

It will hurt until the day he dies; this knowledge is almost a relief.

He deserves it.

He deserves to suffer after failing to protect Tsuna.

[unorilisa]

[diclasseshark]

[swedishcarssince1946]

2007 Volvo S80

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