heartBeat generation｡

➡ [ fic: katekyo hitman reborn! ] 5927, 80; dial-tone Morse Code

2009-02-11T20:04:03Z

Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!; 5927, 80
Rated: G
Summary: Broken telephone messages encoded for your heart.
(Written for the gokutsuna contest.)
Disclaimer: Gokudera Hayato, Sawada Tsunayoshi, Yamamoto Takeshi © Akira Amano
Title:

It starts with a stupid off-handed comment from the baseball freak, like it always does.

And Gokudera kind of hates it, the way Yamamoto says it so easily. "I'll call Tsuna after baseball practice and tell him we're still going to the movies tomorrow, okay?" Which is followed by, "Or you can do it -- huh? You don't have Tsuna's number? Haha, well, we used to play a lot when we were kids, so naturally..."

He hates being reminded that he wasn't there for Tsuna since the beginning. (But how could he be, back in Italy where the choir boys sung songs about angels at church and he sat at his piano making music for the deaf of hearing and chasing the shadows of paper airplanes.)

But he murmurs a flustered thank you as Yamamoto chews on the cap of a pen, looping an eight around his wrist; sideway infinity.

"There. Now you can tell him in my place, haha!"

"Shut up and go to your stupid practice."

It's only nerves, Gokudera tells himself, paces the four corners of his room like the four corners of the world. Like if he paced long enough, he would find a map, directions on how to call someone without breaking up. Static messages like lost bottles at sea.

It's almost 12 AM when he finally works up the courage to call Tsuna, fingers clenched tight around the wires of his phone as he listens to dial tone after dial tone pressed against his ear. He's about to give up on the fourth ring, but a groggy voice greets him right at the start of the fifth.

"H-hello, Sawada residence?"

"T-Tenth--?"

"Gokudera-kun?" There's a wakefulness in Tsuna's voice now, a caffeine effect from Gokudera's voice carrying to his senses. "Why're you calling so late? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Tenth!"

"N-no, it's fine, just -- what's the matter?"

Gokudera's all smiles and good-nature. The Tenth doesn't mind him calling, he thinks. He can still be useful and talk to him even after they've all gone home! "I just wanted to tell you that we're still on for the movie tomorrow -- if you still are, of course, Tenth!"

A pause. "Eh? That's it? Yamamoto already called me earlier about that."

"He... did?"

"Yeah." A yawn. "Is there anything else?"

He feels himself deflating, cursing that stupid idiot in his mind. Didn't he say Gokudera could call in his place? Leave it to him to always mess things up! "No, that's it. I just wanted to tell you in case he forgot to."

"Ah, okay. He actually called in case you forgot." A nervous laugh. "Uhm -- I was sleeping earlier, so..."

"O-of course, Tenth! Please accept my apologies for waking you up and calling late!"

"It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah... See you."

A click, dial tone.

How awkward.

After walking Tsuna to his house after the movies, Gokudera rushes home, finger on his speed dial as soon as he kicks off his shoes. He tosses his bag in the corner where it rots next to the other objects Gokudera considers flammable enough to be test subjects when he experiments with dynamite.

"Sawada residence?"

"Tenth!" Gokudera exclaims, punches the air at the fact that he was able to call before Yamamoto. Gokudera: 1, Yamamoto: 0, says the scoreboard in Gokudera's head. He doesn't count the first time (he doesn't count his losses). "How are you? Did you enjoy the movie? My offer to blow up the guy who bumped into you when you got popcorn still stands!"

"No! It's fine! G-Gokudera-kun, you just saw me about ten minutes ago!"

"I know, but we never really got to talk by ourselves since that stupid baseball freak is always around." He huffs, his aggravation carrying through, easy to read like how he always is, on or off the phone.

"I guess, but I never really have much to say anyway -- ah, Lambo! Put that down! Uhm, I have to go, Gokudera-kun. We'll talk later?"

"Eh? Ah, sure, Tenth. Whatever you want."

The click on the other side hits him like a ton of bricks, like the sound of a lock pressed against his ear.

He hangs up.

For the next few days, Gokudera holes himself up in the library, "Phone Conversations for Dummies" tucked behind a book about chemistry. He scribbles down notes on a piece of paper and shoves the rims of his glasses up with his pen.

The conversation he has with Tsuna's mom is swell. Tsuna just asks if Gokudera's feeling okay.

And it's not like phone conversations really mean anything in the real world (except that they do). It's just that it's another way to get closer to the Tenth and learn more about him, which is why he's trying to master it. But each conversation lasts for a span of about five to ten minutes before Tsuna mutters an excuse about having to go, nervous voice and shaky breaths that he releases between chapped lips. The kids are fighting again, Reborn's tutoring him about something, his mom needs him to help prepare dinner.

But what was he expecting anyway, Gokudera muses. He blows a puff of smoke into the air and shapes it like the way he feels. Distorted, wispy. Not quite all there.

How long did he want the conversations to last, anyway? Hours? Days?

... Well, it would be nice.

A week and a half later, Tsuna plops himself down beside Gokudera. Gokudera, who seems to have lost his voice through the wires that connect the city and sits on the school steps smoking even when the teachers threaten him with suspension.

Tsuna draws his knees up to his chest and traces his fingers in circles across the pavement. Circles, eights, sideway infinities.

"I'm sorry about our phone conversations, Gokudera-kun."

Gokudera flicks his cigarette to the ground, crushes it with his heel until the fire goes out. "What are you sorry for, Tenth? It's fine! You're busy with a lot and I don't want to waste your time with phone calls. They're stupid anyway, we see each other everyday."

Tsuna shrugs. "Yeah, but -- n-no, wait. They're not stupid! I just, uhm. I'm not that good at talking on the phone. Or face to face, s-so..." Deep breath. "I get nervous, I guess. And everything at my house is always so hectic, so things are always getting in the way." He props his chin down against his knees as his finger tries to chase the shadows of a bird, of a living paper airplane with multicoloured wings. "I've never had someone want to talk to me on the phone before."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, Tenth --" Gokudera tenses, ready to throw himself onto the ground to beg for forgiveness. Seven plus days, and all he's been is an annoyance, it's the stupid baseball freak's fault for starting all of this anyway, except not, but --

"N-no, that's not what I'm trying to say -- I was just thinking that, ah. M-maybe we can take turns calling each other? After we finish dinner. Around seven? That way, we can talk more. I'm interested in Gokudera-kun, too."

"... I -- ah. I'd like that, Tenth."

That night at seven, Gokudera's phone rings, causing him to jump ten feet into the air before he leaps over toward his desk to answer before the second ring kicks in.

"G-Gokudera here."

There's a squeak on the other side, a timid puff of air before, "Gokudera-kun?"

"Tenth! How are you? Did you have a good dinner?"

"Y-yeah... I'm okay. Dinner was fine. What about you?"

"I-I'm great!" He can feel his heart beating against his chest, ba-dump, ba-dump, loud enough that he swears Tsuna could hear it. Can see the smile on his face as he pulls out his chair and pretends he hasn't just run half way across his room just to answer the call. He feels light, like a paper airplane soaring as he pens in a discovered island on his map of self discovery.

They laugh a bit and make small talk for the next half hour. It's as awkward as it's always been ("I don't know if we should be talking about Vongola on the phone like this, haha..."), but it's been almost two weeks going and Gokudera finally feels like he's winning.

"I-it's your turn to call tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, of course. Good night, Tenth."

"'Night."

Click.

When they talk, they never pass the 7:30 mark. Gokudera keeps track of the time on a piece of paper he's pinned up next to his phone to see if he can make new records every time, but he only passes by a few seconds. Never minutes.

He asks questions and Tsuna answers, quiet and small like he's always been. They talk and Gokudera listens because the Tenth's said he's never had anyone whose wanted to listen before, but there's only so much one person can say. Only so much you can reveal without feeling too exposed.

But it's not like they talk about much anyway. The weather, what happened in class today, homework, how they're feeling, what they had for dinner.

The clock strikes 7:30 PM.

"I have to --"

"-- go, yeah, I know. I'll see you tomorrow, Tenth."

"See you, Gokudera-kun."

"I heard that you've been talking to Tsuna lately!"

Yamamoto laughs, grins and slaps Gokudera's back as the two walk home. Gokudera pushes him away. "None of your business."

"Too bad he couldn't walk home today with us, huh. I heard you tried to get Longchamp to trade dates with you so you could help him out. Didn't work?"

"Shut up."

Another laugh, and Yamamoto stretches. Casual, smooth, like the way he talks. Like the way Yamamoto's always been. Gokudera still hates him for it. "But hey, so, talking to Tsuna? How's that going?"

"What do you care?"

"I'm a friend, aren't I? Hey, we should to a three-way conference sometime! Haha, this one time, I was talking to one of the guys on the team? And he put this girl on the other line to try to make us talk. Don't know why he would do that --"

"Does it look like I care, baseball freak?"

A shrug. "Sometimes, you have to talk back instead of just listening all the time. I know Tsuna prefers listening over talking about himself, but you know that now, huh. Conversations go both ways, but I like filling in the gaps for you."

Gokudera stops dead in his tracks, face blank, expression neutral. His furrows his eyebrows before he resumes his pace again, catching up to Yamamoto who stopped a small way ahead once he noticed Gokudera had stopped walking.

"Sometimes people need to learn to shut the hell up, too." He punches Yamamoto in the shoulder, but it's gentle.

"Gokudera-kun?"

"Tenth! How are you?"

"Okay. What about you?"

"I'm great! How was cleaning today? Longchamp wasn't giving you a hard time, was he? I'll kill that bastard if he --"

"N-no, it was fine, Gokudera-kun! We actually cleaned up pretty quick today because he wanted to be on time for his date with his new girlfriend."

"That's good, then!"

"Haha, I guess..."

"... Ah, hey. We passed Namimori shrine today walking home, me and the baseball freak."

"R-really?"

"Yeah! It reminded me of that time we went to see the fireworks and made chocobanana. I -- had a lot of fun that day. With you."

"Yeah, I did too."

"The, uh, the fireworks are a lot better than the ones you see in Italy!"

"Eh? What are those ones like?"

"Less flashy. Not enough colours. All sort of the same, really. But here in Japan, there are so many kinds of fireworks being made and events happening all the time! I like it here a lot better than Italy."

"I'd like to see Italy sometime. I've never been out of the country before, e-except to Mafialand..."

"-- I'll go with you! I'll make fireworks for you too! Much better ones than Japan and Italy put together because that's what the Tenth deserves!"

The sound of Tsuna's laughter echoes through the phone to Gokudera's ears. Not nervous or small, but calm and cheerful. Gokudera releases the breath he never knew he was holding as the clock hits 7:30.

"I guess you have to go now, huh, Tenth?"

There's a pause before Tsuna replies. 7:31 PM. "I -- have a bit more time today to talk. I-if you still want to."

"R-really? I'd be honoured, Tenth!"

"... S-so, uhm. What's Italy like?"

Tsuna's cellphone rings twice before he picks it up, murmuring a groggy hello as he sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as sunlight pours in from his hotel room on the twenty-seventh floor.

"Morning, Tenth. Did I wake you up?"

"It's fine, Gokudera-kun." He yawns, covering it with his hand. "I should be up anyway, but the jet lag is killing me. How's everything over in Japan?"

"Everything's going smoothly, as always. Your trip to Italy's been enjoyable so far? I'm sorry I wasn't able to go with you this time."

Tsuna laughs, stretching his limbs as he steps into his slippers and heads toward the window's view. "Someone has to stay behind to watch the Japanese base for me, right, right hand man?"

There's an answering chuckle, a soft sigh. "Yeah, that's right."

"But you have to come with me next time, okay?"

"Of course."

Tsuna smiles, watches the rivers of Venice sweep past his feet nineteen stories down, the waters flowing under and over bridges like sideway infinity signs. Like endless oceans on maps still undiscovered.

Like looped phone cords connecting people all over the world, who send static messages in lost bottles at sea to be found and read between the lines.

"So what's up?"

"Nothing much."

"Really?"

"Yeah. ... T-Tsuna?"

A pause, silence.

"Yes?"

"I guess I just missed (you)r voice."

"... I know, Hayato."

Me too.

➡ [ fic: katekyo hitman reborn! ] 1827; t-minus your heart & counting

2008-07-25T00:12:01Z

Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!; 1827
Rated: PG
Summary: Eighteen to twenty-seven; count slow, breathe in. Never mind the tears.
(Written for the 1827_is_love contest.)
Disclaimer: Hibari Kyouya, Sawada Tsunayoshi © Akira Amano
Title: t-minus your heart & counting

( you are the one )

Tsuna's heart breaks in intricate, red crystal pieces. In rubies & garnets that fall through Hibari's cupped hands. Hibari, who stands straight & proud like a solider without soul, eyes calculating & cold. Sapphire ice bled black as he stares at Tsuna pinned against the wall & throws away the heart Tsuna offers up between fingers that let slip blood, crimson against dirt brown eyes. Against the way Hibari looks before the sky, colours bleeding away like a runny Impressionist painting as tears stain his face.

Eighteen times. His heart breaks for the eighteenth time.

( me2you )

But I have seen the way your gaze softens when looked upon with the eyes of a bird. I've tried to touch you with the feather light grace of wings, of the sky you look to when there's nothing else from the cage you keep yourself in. The way you guard your nest like a lion thrice damned, twice betrayed. & I wonder what keeps you here. What keeps you safe.

Your bones break in a thousand different ways, but you keep standing on air, on the grounds of the fact that you will never be mine.

On the nineteenth time you choke me silent & let me die.

( three is company )

When Hibari is busy, Hibird flies to the roof top at lunch & waits for the bread crumbs that Tsuna throws, nestles into his hair & sings sad love songs for the ones who will listen. Broken telephone messages that Tsuna deciphers the wrong way.

"You are the only one I will not save," Hibird sings, soprano high. "Because you hold parts of me that I will never say."

Tsuna smiles weakly & reaches up to run gentle strokes along soft, yellow feathers. Listens to twenty serenades about the way he shouldn't feel, but does.

( but four's a crowd )

So you stand in the middle of a storm, in the middle of the rain that shelters you from the world & keeps you safe. Away from the dark corners of the sky where clouds fly by lacking direction without really leaving, without really needing. But they gather at the edges of your vision, obscure your view enough to slip past your defences alone & whisper in your ear, I like you separate from the rest. From the smoke trailing in & the sun & the moon.

From the stars scattered across the night meaning nothing & everything, like the bodies of the dead.

Like the souls you cannot save, slipping through your fingers like wet, s(t)ick(l)y blood. Your heart on a platter & my soul in your hands.

Twenty-one times, for the lives you could not save.

( five star rating )

"The best," Hibari says, as he preys on the weak & the strong alike. "I only settle for the best."

Then I was never worthy, Tsuna thinks, lets the thought settle in his gut, the pattering feeling in his stomach that runs away with him to unclaimed lands, where he could rebuild himself to be somebody. He digs his hands into the dirt until they're red, mixes his essense with the earth as he prays to be more than anything. More than nothing. More than what he is now so he doesn't have to keep turning away.

So that his flame will burn bright enough to guide skylarks home.

Here in this spot, under the sakura trees that his blood feeds before Namimori, he buries his heart & gives it up for the twenty-second time. Marks it with the criss-cross of a x & lets his feelings be the map that Hibari might find.

( sixth sense )

Tsuna fights like he prays, fists clenched tight & eyes closed when he can afford it. Orange flame flared like the dying colours of autumn. Not red like passion, nor yellow like energy, but calm & subdued & still so, so bright.

It pisses Hibari off.

"You fight as if there's something to save, as if something could save you in the depths of your fire touched eyes." He knocks Tsuna down for the twenty-third time, grinds his heart back deep into the ground with the heel of his foot as he stares with soulless eyes at the makings of a fallen god. "But after the eighteenth time, you should know better."

Yet, he stands proud like a solider without soul, ring on his finger that he wears like the makings of an accidental hero. He holds Tsuna between the palms of his hand & pushes him away with the direction of the wind. Like autumn, like leaves whisked across his face begging to be freed. & Tsuna falls once, stands twice, beats hammering against his chest as he looks into Hibari's eyes.

"Only the best." I see it in you. "But you are so far from it."

( your odds: lucky number seven )

Still, Tsuna takes a gamble with his heart on the line. Squares his expression & looks through amber eyes at the several ways Hibari moves with the grace of a bird, the paths he takes to avoid Tsuna but not run away.

"When we fight, I fight with nothing to lose & you with everything to gain. You knock me down & tell me you'll kill me, but this is the twenty-fourth time & I'm still here." He holds rubies & garnets in his hands. Warm, like a firefly's glow. "This is all I have left, but I'm still going to try."

"You still don't get it," Hibari hisses, turns on his heel & walks away.

But he doesn't throw away the pieces.

( figure eight, the loop of your infinity )

& that's how Tsuna finds him, scattered red on the floor in the shape of the way he feels.

"What you never understood was that I am incapable of the way birds feel when I was a lion all along." He grabs Tsuna's face with a hand & forces him to look his way. "& lions eat their young. But you knew that since you met me, yet you hung around waiting for a sign that what you wanted might be yours."

He presses Tsuna to the ground, hovers over him like a predator with his prey. "& what you never noticed was that I gave something to you long ago. My soul, the complex part of me that feels the way I never will."

"But you never stayed," Tsuna breathes in, holds Hibari close with trembling hands. "& you never will. Never in the twenty-five times I've tried. & that, more than your heart, was all I wanted."

( cloud nine )

But even so, Tsuna carries himself everyday to school, to Namimori, where the colours are white, black, red & yellow. Faded, like how he feels when Hibari walks away.

"But I am growing to need you," Hibird chirps, perches on Tsuna's head & asks for food. "But I am growing dependent."

But I am running like an Impressionist painting whose colours are fading away to yellow like the way you feel. Like the way the sun sets & rises, not enough to be called night nor enough to be called day, & I've only ever lived with black & white until I saw your flame. Until you stood before me & moved me in ways I could never say.

Hibird flies, leaving behind a single red rose & the twenty-six different ways Tsuna's heart could sing, if only Hibari would stay.

( x your heart & hope to die )

But Hibari comes the next day, stands by Tsuna's side and --

doesn't (let) go.

The twenty-seventh heartbreak never comes.

➡ [ fic: katekyo hitman reborn! ] 8027; Rain is falling, looks like Love

2008-04-29T05:40:28Z

Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!; 8027
Rated: PG-13
Summary: But I know that we can make it all the way. (For centric, happy birthday♥)
Disclaimer: Sawada Tsunayoshi, Yamamoto Takeshi © Akira Amano
Title: Rain is falling, looks like Love

They get back to the past with the knowledge that Tsuna will die one day, but his guardians stand behind a back drop of blue, a united silhouette that refuses to let the sky fall down again.

Tsuna stands between the edges of the sunrise, eyebrows furrowed & expression unsure.

"But we've got to try, right?" Yamamoto says, slinging an arm around Tsuna's shoulders. Tsuna thinks of parents, of fathers who are gone. Who will be gone. Lets Yamamoto discard his sorrows with a smile & nods.

This is their second chance.

So the end of high school comes & goes. Tsuna watches his classmates dressed in black & white stand in straight, neat rows, yellow blazers & red ties pressed against their bodies like hands clasped tight. His palms are sweaty when he goes up to get his diploma, looking out at the sea of students from where he is high up on stage.

He can only recognize a handful. There's Hoshi from 3-B, Sakuragi from 3-A, Ohno from 3-D. In one of their final essays, Abe spoke of how he was going to become a professional baseball player after high school, after he finally won his trophy of finely printed black on white paper that tells him he is a year older, not younger. Wiser, but not smarter. Everything he learned to challenge life head on, he wrote, came from his teammates. From what he loved.

Tsuna thinks of his guardians, of Vongola. Of the way dying stilled his heart & helped him to breathe. How he still can't remember the chemical equation for water & the way Yamamoto plays baseball the way he practices with his sword.

In the far off corner of the room, he recognizes the familiar faces of Gokudera, Yamamoto, & Kyoko. None of them are going to university or becoming professional sports athletes.

He cuts his fingers on his diploma, sharp like a knife to his throat.

"Hey, Tsuna! Reborn let me off early today, so I thought we could hang out together, like old times."

Like old times, Yamamoto says, as Tsuna looks up from the papers that need to be read, signed, & sent to places he only knows the name of.

"I can't," Tsuna replies for the tenth time, looks up with eyes still too big to fit the structure of growing up. But Yamamoto can already see lines on his face where there weren't any before, the way Tsuna grips his pen tight in hands covered by leather gloves that haven't come off since their graduation. His eyes are pleading for understanding, but Yamamoto only sees the single white hair growing out of a thatch of brown.

Tsuna winces when Yamamoto reaches over to pull it out, all smiles & sunshine even through the rain. "Don't stress out, okay?" His hand drops to Tsuna's shoulders, lingers for longer than it should.

"Some other time." Tsuna looks down at his hands, eyes glazed over as he tries to take in the words printed on a document about monthly finances. "I promise."

Months later, production on the Japanese Vongola base starts. Tsuna walks through the incomplete hallways, the skeleton of his new home, listening to the rattling of metallic flesh & wooden bones.

He finds Yamamoto observing the construction of his room, helping out the men who are piecing together bolts for joints & nails for teeth. His suit is covered in sawdust, high quality Armani with the buttons of his shirt open.

"Tsuna," he greets when he notices Tsuna by the unfinished doorway, smiles like the sun reflected off water. "Gonna help us do some building?"

Tsuna's memories fly back to the times they sold bananas covered in chocolate together, the times Yamamoto taught him how to make sushi, when they decorated rooms & houses for surprise parties. When he didn't have to say no.

"I can't," he whispers, even as he drops all of the files that he was carrying in a fit of clumsiness, kneeling down without looking at Yamamoto as he gets sawdust on his suit & runs after papers that fly like renegade criminals with nothing to lose. "I can't. I have -- I have a meeting --"

Yamamoto places his hand on top of Tsuna's when they reach for the same document together. His smile is still bright, but his eyes are glazed over. Monthly finances, the title of the paper reads. "I know."

"Thank you," Tsuna says, but he doesn't know for what.

He stands up to leave, leaving behind the corpse of metal fossils in the makings & the sound of a heart beating alone.

Yamamoto stays behind at the base while the other guardians go on assigned missions. His ring camouflages their location as he sits underneath a heavily foliaged tree listening to the rain splash against the ground.

It's a beautiful day.

But Tsuna hasn't come outside in ages, holed up underground the way dinosaurs are after their fates have been sealed. So he sends messages, photographs he takes casually when he has nothing else to do to remind Tsuna of the sky. He delivers them with messenger pigeons that coo too much & drop feathers like Uri sheds hair & switches to swallows because they create less of a mess. Because they're refreshing & new like spring water.

Because Tsuna deserves to be free.

But the threat of Millefiore is more real than they could ever imagine. Tsuna holds his breath as he hears of the death of another Arcobaleno, looks down at the rings adorned on his fingers & feels the chains around them, cool & lifeless against his skin. There are dark circles underneath his eyes & he is so very tired.

"They've got to go," he whispers in the silence as everyone waits for his decision. As protests spring up from all of his guardians.

"But that's what your older self did & --"

"We can't make the same mistake again --"

Tsuna holds up a hand to still the noise. To still his heart a second time even though he's never known the first. He wonders how it feels to sleep forever.

Yamamoto's the first one to speak. "If that's what Tsuna wants, then let's do it." He takes off his ring & throws it onto the table. "We'll make it through with or without them."

Thank you, Tsuna thinks, feeling parts of him tingle back to life, washed away with relief.

There are seven Vongola rings with him when he leaves, X-Gloves burning bright.

Tsuna tries to fall apart when no one is looking because no one would let him otherwise. But he breaks in Yamamoto's arms one day, feverish & lacking both sleep & food as he collapses to the ground.

"Tsuna -- hey, what's wrong? Tsuna, are you okay?"

No, he thinks, as he feels Yamamoto's hands guide him to the floor. As he creates a makeshift pillow out of his newly ironed suit to place underneath Tsuna's head. Yamamoto swims in & out of his vision & Tsuna almost has to laugh, picturing the clear image of rain pouring down onto his face the first time Yamamoto's swallow came into his office. He had to reprint all of his soaked documents.

"I'm dying inside," he says through a parched throat, eyes slipping closed in exhaustion. He can't remember the last time he was free.

"I know," Yamamoto whispers, runs a hand through Tsuna's hair as he feels for a temperature & calls the doctor. "I've always known."

Yes, the message returns when Yamamoto asks if Tsuna would like to go out. He spends two hours & nine minutes worrying about whether Vongola will be okay without him around before he pens in his reply, lets the bird go as he tries to find the casual clothes he used to wear before he became somebody.

& sets himself free for a little while.

He promised, after all.

& it's a good feeling. Better than good, more than great. He walks down lazy streets laughing with Yamamoto even as the clouds fill up the sky with white & grey. They exchange jokes, memories, things they were never able to say within the confines of the steel cage they locked themselves up in.

"Remember when we used to sword fight when we were little?" Yamamoto says, grins bright enough to replace the sun as their fingers touch. "& I swore I'd protect you when you cried every time I hit you. When we sparred & I tried to teach you the essentials for being strong in the only way eight year olds knew how to be."

But Tsuna's eyes widen to the shapes of saucers when he sees it all come crashing down like the colour of the blood red sun at the end of the day.

The hitman is armed with only a knife, sharp against his throat before Yamamoto rips him away, changes his sword into lightning quick silver that cuts through flesh like air. But the man attacks like a renegade criminal with nothing to lose. There's desperation in his face even when he's bleeding, screaming bloody murder & slashing for all that he's worth before Yamamoto cuts him down.

Yamamoto's bleeding too. A nick on his chin that trickles blood out & down his neck, onto his shirt where it stains dark & won't wash out for days later.

"Y-Yamamoto," Tsuna gasps, whispers as he fumbles for his sun box to heal the wound.

It's going to leave a mark. Tsuna knows this. Sees another piece of him crumble & die in this world that was never made for him. For Yamamoto. For two middle school kids who only wanted to play baseball or be somebody worth noticing. But not like this.

"I promised, didn't I," Yamamoto says as Tsuna presses cold fingers to Yamamoto's chin. "To protect you."

But Tsuna can only sink to the floor. Stand at the edges of a man-made sunset that is the drying blood of another mistake.

So maybe parts of Tsuna are dying, are dead & have died with each action he makes. Each death report that he receives a day.

Reborn is dead.

Reborn was the only Arcobaleno left besides Lal. & it's only a matter of time, Tsuna knows this, before Millefiore decides to bring everything else down. Tear his family apart in order to save himself.

He is so very tired.

"I don't know if I can make it," he tells Yamamoto, who holds him close & presses Tsuna's face against the curve of his neck. Tsuna knows this: in order to save everyone, he has to die. "There's no other way."

Yamamoto is quiet before he tightens his hold, determination shaking through his fingertips.

"But we've got to try."

➡ [ fic: katekyo hitman reborn! ] TYL5927, Reborn; The Art and Absolute Pitch of Healing

2008-04-15T02:23:18Z

PLEASE HAVE YOUR SPEAKERS ON FOR THIS.
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!; TYL5927, Reborn
Rated: G
Summary: Relax. Let go. I want you to breathe this in. (For infringe)
Disclaimer: Gokudera Hayato, Reborn, Sawada Tsunayoshi © Akira Amano
River Flows In You, The Sunbeams... They Scatter © Yiruma
Title: The Art and Absolute Pitch of Healing

Picture a wide, vast room. White, touched golden by the sun. Imagine tall windows; floor to ceiling, ceiling to floor. They're framed by transparent curtains moved by the wind. By a summer breeze coming in from the nearby sea. Sparkling, you think. Crystal blue as it reflects the sky. As you listen to the gentle tune of the piano moving through you like waves.

There is only one item in this whole room and it is the piano, and it is playing. You are playing. You're letting the sound travel through you like the sea. You're drinking down salt water to cleanse your throat and help you breathe.

This is the very same picture Gokudera keeps between the folds of his closed eyes as he sits in the very same room, at a brand new piano, but plunged underground.

His hands are shaking.

Tsuna wraps thin arms around Gokudera's waist, rests his head against his back. In his mind's eye, he remembers a woman by his side. Beautiful. Everything. Laugh like the crisp, refreshing sound of ice.

He can feel Tsuna's heartbeat, steady and slow.

"I've got you," Tsuna whispers, unwavering voice filled with faith.

Place your hands onto the smooth surface of the keys, the notes that will ring true. That have never stopped ringing true. Take a deep breath.

Now play.

"I got them to build this room for you," Tsuna says, standing at the door leading from hallway to room.

Gokudera runs a finger along the surface of the piano. It's so new that there isn't even a speck of dust on it yet. Smoke trails from his mouth idly, wispily. Wistfully. He keeps his expression carefully neutral. Unnecessarily blank. "Thank you, Tenth. But I don't play the piano."

"You did, didn't you?"

He smiles, small and sad. His back is to the door. "I gave it up a long time ago."

Despite himself, Gokudera finds his feet leading him to the piano room at odd moments of the day. The G Room, he calls it, for the note that is a high middle on the scale. For the middle of his insistences. For the first letter of the name his mother left him, along with the scattered music sheets that he never finished playing. For the last thing he expects to need again.

The piano is the only thing in the room. A stark contrast of black in a room that is too bright, too much, too powerful. It's blinding. So he closes his eyes and looks away.

It's not the room that blinds him.

He jumps when he hears another set of footsteps approaching the room.

"Tenth," he murmurs, eyes downcast as he pretends he wasn't fiddling with the insides of the piano. Like he wasn't trying to see if he could learn the workings of the strings -- again. He's polite, quiet. Everything Gokudera shouldn't be.

But this room changes people. Tsuna understands this. It's unfamiliarly familiar in ways that pull the strings of his heart taut. Too tight. They feel like snapping. Gokudera's long, pianist fingers are covered in callouses now, but here, they can relearn to be free. He runs them skittishly across the keyboard, but doesn't play a note.

"Why did you quit?"

Gokudera shrugs. A million days of stomach aches run through his mind. A thousand notes he tried to perfect through muscle memory. A hundred concerts that laid his practice all to waste. A single loss that shattered his world.

"It seemed right at the time."

"I'd like to hear you play sometime," Tsuna remarks one day as he's filing away more paperwork. As Gokudera stands on his right, like he always does. "The piano, I mean. I wish I heard you play when you were little."

"I was nothing special, Tenth," Gokudera replies, fingers sliding over Tsuna's as he helps his boss place the documents in their proper places. Like a piano in a stifling, too bright room underground. His fingers tingle where they touch.

"I'm sure you were." Tsuna smiles, lets the rings on their fingers clink together softly before pulling away.

Gokudera shakes his head. His fingers still feel the vibration of the collision of their rings. A note, a melody trying to last. He's about to say something, but Tsuna continues.

"Even so, I still would've liked to. I know you made the people who listened to you proud." He laughs, like the tinkling of bells. "I know I'm proud of you."

It takes Gokudera a constant week of visits before he digs out the music sheets that he kept for keeping's sake. They're yellowing, thin and frail underneath his fingertips as he smooths them out, as they bring back memories that makes the tempo of his beating heart painful to hear. Concerto for the Lonely and Left Behind.

His laugh is bitter. He could write a song about this.

There's a bang of piano keys as Gokudera's fist slams down on top of them. As he curses everything to hell and back a hundred times, gritting his teeth in frustration. It's lined all over his face, along the downward curve of his eyebrows and the stubborn features of his eyes. On his mouth, where anger rests like a growling thing waiting to be freed. He urges a few more notes out before he swears again and halts.

"I thought I'd find you here." Tsuna's by his side in an instant, in his world where the breeze is supposed to be blowing and the sea is supposed to be whispering and the curtains are supposed to be waving. Where his hands are supposed to be playing. His expression is worried, troubled. Gokudera curses himself again for the way he makes the Tenth worry needlessly about his Storm Guardian, who should know better when Tsuna has so much more he should set his attention upon. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." My voice. My hands. My mind. Everything. "I just can't seem to play properly." It lacks feeling. It lacks a soul. It hurts too much to play.

Tsuna lifts Gokudera's hands and presses them to his lips. "You've just forgotten for a brief moment. That's how things like this usually work, right?"

He places the fingers gently on each key. Not the correct ones, and Tsuna knows this. Laughs it off like something precious. The tinkling of bells, Gokudera thinks. Crisp and refreshing, like ice. "It's hard, sometimes. Remembering things. Letting go of others." Tsuna hasn't seen the fireworks since they finished building the base. "But I know you can do it, Gokudera-kun."

When Tsuna leaves, Gokudera looks down and finds his fingers start from the G key.

He's been practicing for ages. It still doesn't sound right.

"I'm sorry, Tenth," he apologizes after he finishes playing. "You said you wanted to hear me play, so I. I thought that this time --"

Gokudera stiffens when he feels hands covering his eyes. He brings his hands up to grasp at smaller ones covered in metal and leather. X-Gloves. Tsuna hasn't stopped wearing them since he was named Vongola's Tenth.

"Close your eyes. Relax." Gokudera does. "How did it used to feel to play? Try to remember, Gokudera-kun." In Italy by a seaside. In a brightly lit golden room where melody and laughter filled his ears. Tsuna slowly pries his hands away and slips them around a too thin waist.

"I've got you."
Gokudera listens to Tsuna's heartbeat. Remembers the sound of bells. Swallows against the memory of a beautiful woman whose tragic end brought down his life before his eyes. Lets go.

Plays.

In the days that follow, Reborn dies.

His funeral is not something worthy of the greatest hitman Italy has ever known. It's quiet, solemn, but lacks the tears and heartbreak. No one murmurs a word. This is how Reborn probably would've wanted it to go.

Tsuna lays down some flowers on the coffin, eyes dry as he gazes upon the face of his home tutor. He could convince himself that Reborn was only sleeping if he wanted to. But he stands up straight, proud, and doesn't.

"Tenth --" Gokudera is hesitant. He reaches out a hand before he stops himself. Before Tsuna waves it off. He's useless in situations like this.

"I'm fine, Gokudera-kun." Tsuna smiles. It's watery. "I knew this might happen, anyway. There was nothing -- No. I should've been able to stop this." He turns his face away.

"No! Tenth, you did everything you could. If anything, I should've --"

"Don't blame yourself." There are tears in his voice now. "I knew -- Reborn said as much, anyway. 'I won't be here forever, Tsuna.'" His voice breaks. Salt water to help you breathe, Gokudera thinks. He wraps his arms around Tsuna like Tsuna had done for him. "-- So I. I have to. Go on. I have to go on. For everyone's sake. I won't let their efforts be wasted."

Gokudera thinks of the time he lost his mother. The way he ran for what felt like forever from his problems. "You're the bravest person I know, Tenth."

Tsuna dies soon after. It was only a matter of time.

Parts of Gokudera die with him with thoughts of I should have and if only. He spends days afterwards locked up in The G Room watching smoke fill the empty spaces that used to contain the sound of bells. He lets cancer fill his lungs until he can't breathe anymore, stiffens up and fights for breath in a room where he can't see the sky.

But if Tsuna taught him anything, it was about the imprints of a dying will.

I've got you, Gokudera hears, listens to the melody that is his heart still beating. I won't let their efforts be wasted.

"For you," Gokudera says, presses pianist hands to ivory keys. Where they've always belonged.

And plays.

➡ [ fic: katekyo hitman reborn! ] (TYL)1827; I Believe In Your Victory

2008-03-24T00:02:09Z

Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!; (TYL)1827
Rated: PG-13
Summary: This will destory you. (Written for advil & moving.)
Challenge: See this post. (cedef)
Disclaimer: Hibari Kyouya, Sawada Tsunayoshi © Akira Amano
Title: I Believe In Your Victory

( RELAX, TAKE YOUR COAT OFF｡ )

In a world where everything has gone cold, Tsuna dons a hoodie on his shoulders made of material that is too light, where the sleeves dangle & kiss his elbows as he turns, grins like a flickering flame in the depths of the underground. Where his dreams of mechas & machinery come to life & suffocate him, lifeless metal below freezing to the touch.

"I'd rather wear my summer clothes," he muses to no one, to the empty spaces that whisper of busier times. He watches ghosts play through the bright lit halls in the morning & dance the night away in the dark where nothing can hear you breathe.

Hibari hears him breathe, and he scoffs at the ridiculousness of it all. Of the small, shivering form of a boy who is trapped here wearing white&blue like it could mean something.

Where he can no longer see the sky.

( LICK YOUR LIPS｡ )

Call it a misguided disease, but the way Tsuna takes his coffee in the morning with no milk & no sugar eats away at the core of Hibari that he left to fester & grow, wither & die. He eats his sunny side up eggs with too much ketchup, mixing it in with the yellow yolk to make a sickly orange. Like the dying sun at the end of the day.

He's not happy here.

No one is.

So most days start with steel sharp tonfas against Tsuna's throat, smearing the ketchup like old, sour blood along the corner of his mouth before he counters with something more vivid, more alive.

He forgets about the bitter dark coffee when he looks into Hibari's eyes.

"Good. You don't need it," Hibari says, presses him up against the wall in a way that makes adrenaline run through his weak, calcium lacking bones. So he stops drinking it even as the papers pile up everyday (more information, young Vongola, this is where we make our hit&run mistakes) and trades it in for soda. Too sweet & artificial, but lacking the chemicals to keep his eyes forced down, his mouth from twisting into odd, distorted shapes.

( DREAMS OF STEEL｡ )

When they fight, it's like hell down under, like clashes of lightning & thunder. Lambo would be proud, Tsuna thinks idly when he tries to clear the green spots of bright, purple flames from his eyes.

He's fallen again, but the sky never really touches the ground.

"Sometimes I forget why I let you live," Hibari murmurs, eyes sharp & nostrils flared. A waste, he thinks, as he paints Tsuna's body with bruises. But Tsuna clenches his fists & keeps on standing, keeps on not winning but not dying between the spaces of his foot & his mouth.

He smirks. "And then you remind me."

( CANOPY｡ )

In the time between disasters & miracles, they sit down & rest weary limbs not sick from fighting, but sick from lack of life, of blood. Tsuna thinks it's embarrassing, the way his mouth wanders away about a childhood Hibari has probably forgotten & about a future he doesn't recall.

When Hibari finally speaks, Tsuna's heart stops.

"I remember when I woke up in the hospital after the events of going to hell & back, where sakura blossoms made me sick enough to order the one in front of Namimori to be cut down, and I saw you, limping but alive. I thought you were a ghost, but you had too much of a hammering heart full of fear to die."

Tsuna's heart still hasn't regained beating.

"Once that tree was cleared away, I think it was the first time I truly looked at the sky."

So he replaces it with the clicks of metal & iron teeth, particles in the atmosphere that makes his chest feel like it'll never stop expanding.

He forgets how to breathe.

( YOU SHRUG, & IT'S THE WORST｡ )

"You're telling me nothing I care about."

"I'm sorry, but I thought that--"

"If you don't want to die here, then leave."

( OFF YOUR MELODY｡ )

This is not how a love story should go, Tsuna muses, setting down a book entitled This Will Destroy You upon the dusty shelves of a library forgotten in the haste of war & destruction.

This is not how a love story should go, but this is how most love stories start.

Tsuna, for all his intuition, still doesn't understand the workings of a heart. Of the way the beats sound out like a calling, like a prayer, and his speaks too loudly in a world where love is dead. Where people tell him love has died, but they're still trying to revive it with the ticking of time. Of beats, thumps that echo as music for the ghosts that keep dancing even though there is no sky.

So who is listening to me & who am I looking for?

When Hibari enters the room, Tsuna forgets how to breathe as his heart stops beating.

He realizes he's trying to listen for a resonance.

( TWO OR THREE IN THE SAME DAY｡ )

"You again."

"I -- Hibari-san! I'm sorry, I'll go, I didn't mean to -- yes, I'm sorry. I'll be taking my leave."

"No." He catches a wrist. There's no bite to it. "Stay."

( SHADOW GAMES｡ )

Code Red! the sirens shout at the dead of night, where Tsuna's heart sings a song interrupted that sends the ghosts scattering. But that's fine. Tsuna has seen too many ghosts in his years. So his heart sings out another tune, a calling, for the one who listened and hid behind the walls of fog & cloud. Where biting steel rings out in a room he doesn't know about built to touch the sky.

"Please open the hatch," he orders, letting his feet take him away as he wills his heart to beat for the one he still can't hear.

( RUNNING THIS SHOW ALL AROUND THE GLOBE｡ )

"When I told you about the way our hearts speak, I didn't mean that we were weak." Tsuna toys with his shoelaces as he bends down, squats before the dandelions & miscellaneous weeds that grow through the cracks of the pavement. It's beautiful, he thinks, lacing them together to make a crown. Bright like the yellows of egg yolk. "What I meant was maybe I'm stronger for it, for you. For the ways clouds drift through your fingers but always stay close by. It's reassuring, I think."

He dangles the dandelions along his wrist. Like miracles that never should've happened, but did anyway.

"I'm trying to find you, Hibari-san. Beyond the patches of sky that separate us."

( BUT I CAN'T GET JOY｡ )

"I will let you down," Hibari states, watching a quivering Tsuna bend down to embrace him within the sea of lifeless, red bodies. Tsuna is impossibly small in this room, in a place where carnage reigned supreme in ways he's not yet ready for.

"Thank you," Tsuna whispers, as he feels Hibari's chest inhale & exhale slowly, reassuringly, a solid weight within his arms. He's still shaking and in his mind, he's coughing up bile that he's trying to choke back between the hiccups & the tears. "The infiltration was a success. You -- thank you."

Hibari forces Tsuna to look at him, smears sour old blood along his lip as they listen to the resonance of each other & pretend that they are the only ones left in the world. "I will. I have."

"That's okay." He's tasting copper, bitter against his tongue. Like black coffee & ketchup. "I don't mind."

"You will. I'll hurt you before I love you."

Tsuna's clothes are dirty, stained with blood & sweat. He wonders if this is how being shot will feel like. Like an epiphany. "So let me love you before I hurt you."

( BETTER YET｡ )

"I'm not in love with you," Hibari spits out, wrapping his arms around a too thin waist.

"That's fine," Tsuna whispers, pressing his lips to the junction between jaw & neck. "That's fine."

➡ [ fic: katekyo hitman reborn! ] 5927; Hurricane Syndrome

2008-03-23T21:01:47Z

Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!; 5927
Rated: G
Summary: This is how you turn disasters into miracles.
(Written for the gokutsuna contest.)
Challenge: See this post. (cedef)
Disclaimer: Gokudera Hayato, Sawada Tsunayoshi © Akira Amano
Title: Hurricane Syndrome

( OUT OF BODY｡ )

When Reborn enters his life, Tsuna's world does a 360 flip. (He thinks it's 369 at first, but the baby pointed a(n awfully real gun) at his head until Tsuna knows he will never forget it again.) He listens to stories about a family far away. Of Europe and classy suits, mismatched ties and sunglasses that hide his homesick eyes. Under his hand, a thousand men.

This is what Tsuna's world has been reduced to, deduced to.

But he laughs it off, shaky breath slipping between chapped lips and dry eyes. Impossibly lifeless but alive. He will go to school, he thinks to himself. He will go, and the notions of babies born with guns, enemies from day one, will go away. He will come back to do homework, sleep, and it will be a normal day again.

Gokudera is the first person who leaves a heavy impact on Tsuna through the haze of smoke & fog of miscellaneous boomstick phenomena, promises to a name that's not his own.

It terrifies him.

( YOU SHRUG, & IT'S THE WORST｡ )

The thing is, Gokudera is a good friend, which is an understatement because Gokudera is one of the best (and only) friends he has ever had. But he's good bordering on great bordering on more and Tsuna doesn't know how to deal with this subtle wisp of bombshell smoke. It hits him with the impact of TNT, of dynamite.

Of storms & flashes of heated, silent lightning.

"Boss," Gokudera whispers against his ear, eyes lighting up with an intensity that Tsuna can only imagine he feels. He doesn't have a name for it, but he has a name of his own.

"Tenth," Gokudera says.

Please don't. Call me Tsuna. I'm not--

When Gokudera reaches for his hand, Tsuna shies away.

( GRAVITY｡ )

Puppydog Syndrome, Yamamoto likes to call it as he swings his bat around and stands at Tsuna's right, laughing. He infuriates Gokudera more and dodges wave after wave of dynamite while Tsuna stands flustered, hand clenched tight to keep his school bag from falling.

His right hand to his heart to keep the words from calling.

( SOLDIERS LIVE｡)

"You saved me," Gokudera replies when Tsuna musters the courage to ask why one day. Why me, why are you here. Why would you risk it all for a nobody failing to be somebody?

"Because you saved me when I tried to hurt you, to break you. When I tried to cause hurricanes in your eyes and you accepted the storm in your heart that could've killed you but made you. Because you sing out for all the outcasts, the runaways, the ones who will never make it but who will never stop trying and you see every one of them as someone of their own." Because you take disasters and make them into miracles.

Here, a dying child with the force of a storm playing through his fingers. Here, a spark forcing his heart to life, sticks of nitroglycerin lighting up his eyes. Here, a typhoon calmed under the callings of the sky.

Here, the eye of the storm. Where Gokudera can lay his head to rest and watch his explosives turn into fireworks that colour the night.

"That's silly," Tsuna says, right to his heart, left against his side. "Anyone would've done the same. Anyone could've done so much more." Someone who isn't a loser, an outcast, a coward.

Tsuna doesn't consider the fact that Gokudera may have already considered 'anyone,' turned it around in his mind like a Rubik's Cube. Like a many sided dice that held all the stories, but only one answer. That no one but Tsuna would do.

"But at the time, they weren't you."

( OFF OF YOUR MELODY｡ )

At times, Tsuna closes his eyes and opens his ears to the jiggling of metal, bells chained along the waistband of Gokudera's belt. A symphony, they chime, as the rings on his fingers knock against knees and bones. They press against another hand and jerk away roughly, meaningless words filled with meaning spilling out to fill the empty space between them. A hasty explanation, a stammered apology. Talentless talent playing along the beating of his heart. Puppydog Syndrome, Tsuna thinks and smiles.

"Ciao," Tsuna repeats, pronoucing the word with a strong 'h' as he tries to imitate Gokudera's speech, curls his r's into l's. "Buon giorno."

"Mi chiamo," he begins again, staring intently into pale eyes as Gokudera grins and cheers at Tsuna's obvious bad accent. "Tsuna. Mi chiamo Tsuna." He points to himself and looks at Gokudera expectantly.

A pause. Then, "Tsuna."

Gokudera rolls the name around his mouth like it's foreign. Like he's tasting it for the first time and he's wondering whether it fits between the first and second spaces of his teeth, against his tongue.

"Tsuna," he tests, fingers tracing the name against the ground, rings clinking away at every curve, every movement that brings him closer to the end. To a beginning. "Come sta?"

It's like the start of something new.

( SIMON SAYS｡ )

Gokudera has these moments, Tsuna thinks, exasperated, when the world is too worldly for him and the stars shine too bright and the sky is too encompassing, which is why there is never any room for him. It takes a harsh tone to bring him back. To say yes, the world is worldly because it should be and the stars are bright so people won't get lost at night and the sky will always be ready to take in as many people as there are clouds, raindrops, sunlight, thunder, & mist in the universe. Because, after all, it's all encompassing and no one gets left behind.

They will make room so no one gets left behind.

This time, it's Gokudera who shies away, who becomes unpredictable and jerks, snaps to get away in the way only Gokudera knows how. Disaster struck accidents like disbelief hung around his neck.

But Tsuna knows how to turn disasters into miracles.

"Come," he hushes, like a parent to a child. A lover to a loved one. He trembles, shakes, as he holds out his right hand and lets go of the words that he could never say.

Gokudera takes it (just like a puppy, Tsuna thinks) and presses his lips to the palm, to the vein. To the part that's connected to the heart and brain.

"Grazie," he says. And Tsuna knows he understands.

Grazie.

➡ [ fic: katekyo hitman reborn! ] lambo bovino, reborn; Arrhythmia

2008-01-08T05:59:31Z

Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!; Lambo Bovino, Reborn
Rated: PG-13
Summary: I won't let you sugar coat this.
Challenge: 6｡ chromatic (cedef)
Disclaimer: Lambo Bovino, Reborn © Akira Amano
Title: Arrhythmia (def.)

Two hundred and eighty three heartbeats in a minute. Two hundred and eighty three heartbeats too many.

Fact: a normal heart beats at the tempo of one-zero-zero. Goes up to one-five-oh. Faster, faster. The music in your head is speeding up and you're still dancing. Onetwothreeonehundred, no room to breathe in between. Fourfivesixtwohundred. Two hundred is a danger zone. Eightyoneeightytwoeightythree. You can't even hear the music now. Don't trip up.

One shot.

The gun has never felt so heavy in Lambo's hand.

Two hundred and eighty three heartbeats. Five hundred and sixty six.

Lambo substitutes the sheep in his head for cows and pretends he's far away from this situation. Pretends he's back at target practice where the cans clink mechanically, metallically, instead of the wet slick sound of red spray against off-coloured walls. Where the girls still hand him chocolate by the dozen even if his aim is untrue.

It's always untrue.

He rolls the candy around in his mouth and counts cows, heartbeats, as time ticks away.

"Too slow."

One shot to the soul.

"I was getting to it."

"One day that'll be you."

Reborn gestures to the limp body on the floor, the blood splattered on Lambo's clothes. It's going to be hell to wash out. Blood never truly leaves. Lambo knows this, eyes flickering to Reborn's spotless hands.

"One day that'll be you," he fights back, but his voice is flattering and his eyes are bright as he watches crimson life seep out and turn black. He's a horrible liar.

The candy in his mouth turns sour. Citric acid glares and too much spoiled milk, soiled milk. He's reminded of lemons, of iced lemonade on a hot summer's day cold enough to give him a brain freeze.

Three.

Two.

One.

That's a danger zone, too.

➡ [ music video: kingdom hearts ] riku/sora, roxas; Failure II

2007-06-13T20:51:49Z

➡ [ fic: kingdom hearts ] sora; Intermission II

2007-05-12T03:37:44Z

Series: Kingdom Hearts; Sora
Rated: G
Summary: Searching for your star. (Can be read alongside this. Written for skirmished.)
Disclaimer: Characters © Square Enix
Title: Intermission II

When you're searching for the catalyst that sets your world into motion, it's hard to remember that you've gotta keep going for the princess who needs you home, the worlds that demand too much of your headstrong courage, and your heart that beats in time with the tick-tock of a clock gone between right and wrong (and holds still for the breath that you cannot find).

Sora lives on the wings of a paopu heart; destiny in the shape of a star and cotton candy dreams that taste as sweet as they look. Dark isn't the word you'd use for this stereotypical angel that's so much more than the halo spinning him around and the sparkles against his eyes. He's anything but dark, though he's seen his fair share of a war gone bitter and cold. He's fought in it and made it out alive with a cheeky grin and tired eyes but, I'm okay, see? I said it was going to be all right, didn't I? I told you so!

When you come from an island that's as small as his, where even the slightest rain fall can light up your skies, you learn that friends can be forever if you want them to be and that every heart has a right to beat its last. So Sora's misadventure is a blessing in disguise, his own and others, because diamonds don't hold time like friends do and only a child's mind with a lion's heart can save you the way Sora does.

So this is another quest, yours and mine, and Sora's going to line up the pieces like a puzzle of his happiness fled to different stars. He'll find each one of them as he locks up the centre of the worlds (but not tight enough to keep his happy-go-lucky spirit away) and with each piece, he wishes for a brighter future and a fonder past. Nothing's going to keep him down, not even the catalyst that disappeared from his life (with silver hair and bright green eyes) 'cause that just means he'll need to speed up to catch up. And he can do that -- he's not a Junior Hero anymore, after all.

The stars are falling everywhere again. One sky, one destiny, remember? And Sora knows that he has the brightest friends this side of the universe; that he can do anything with an emerald shield, sapphire magic, and the beating of a soul-driven heart.

➡ [ music video: kingdom hearts ] riku/sora; Summertime

2007-05-12T03:32:17Z

➡ [ fic: kingdom hearts ] riku&sora; Intermission

2007-05-12T03:29:50Z

Series: Kingdom Hearts; Riku & Sora
Rated: G
Summary: You're waiting for a sign. (Can be read alongside this. Written for intermixed.)
Disclaimer: Characters © Square Enix
Title: Intermission

It's tiresome. This watching, waiting. Riku drew in a deep breath as the pads of his gloved fingers traced the surface of the transparent prison that held his friend. DiZ had said something about restoration. Memories. Power. All Riku wanted was for the boy inside to wake up so that they could go home. Back to Kairi and their families and simple things.

Home. Now wasn't that a funny concept. A year ago, Riku's biggest concern was getting off the tiny island that he called home. That he still dared to call home now. He gave a bitter snort as he lifted aquamarine eyes to gaze at messy brown strands and a face that had lost some of the roundness it used to have. He mouthed a name that seemed foreign to him, a quiet exhale on the last syllable, trying to grasp at fading memories of a childhood that seemed so far away.

DiZ had mentioned something like this to him. That the process would affect those the boy, Sora, knew. The process that Sora had gotten into while trying to find Riku.

It wasn't surprising to him that it somehow led to being his fault. Most things were these days.

Sometimes, if he tried hard enough, he remembered the outline of brown hair, blue eyes, and red clothes that should fit in the memories beside him and Kairi. Races across the beach and numerous sleepovers. More often than anything, Riku could only recall the clashing sounds of keyblades and a darkness that swept him away from everything familiar to him. (But wasn't that what he had wanted in the first place?)

If he tried especially hard, sometimes he fancied that he could hear the laughter of three different people. A girl and two boys. And more than anything, he wanted that back. He would do anything to make that possible again. Anything.

"C'mon. Wake up already, sleepy head," Riku murmured to the egg-shaped pod, half-heartedly hoping against all logic that he could be heard. His lips curled up in the smallest of smiles, letting his head fall against his chest, face covered by the hood he wore up. "I promise you can win our next race."

If Sora's fingers gave the slightest twitch as Riku walked out to carry on his latest task, he never noticed.

➡ [ fic: hp rps ] tom/dan; and all the lines that make it

2007-05-12T03:06:01Z

Series: Harry Potter Real Person Slash (shut up); Tom Felton/Daniel Radcliffe
Rated: G
Summary: Love is a fool star. (Can also be found here.)
Disclaimer: This ain't real.
Title: and all the lines that make it

xi.

You're impossibly small at the age of eleven. Bright eyed and round faced, and it's just a little nerve-wracking to be among so many people in what, you think, must be the role of a life time.

(You could be wrong; you have no idea. This isn't your first film, but it might as well be.)

He isn't that much older, a whole two years (eleven and two make thirteen, you think to yourself), and yet he makes you sweat a little when you're together anyway. At your age, you haven't talked to many kids older than you before. They still fall under the classification of Bullies and Upperclassmen. People you shouldn't bother unless you have to.

The way he smiles and waves at you the first time you both meet (and the many times after) makes you forget that for a second.

-- Wasn't he supposed to be your enemy?

xii.

The first thing you remember about him when you see him again after months apart is fish and it makes you laugh. You don't know why, but it's so funny, and he can't help but laugh with you even as he smacks you hard enough to make your eyes water.

He doesn't mean any harm, and you haven't taken any. You know he doesn't mind, anyway. Not really.

"Not really enemies," he says to the camera. "We love each other, really."

You bite over a grin and you feel your cheeks heat up, so you talk about Polaroids and there might have been a mention of fish somewhere later on. What do you say to something like that, anyway?

You find you don't mind that much though, even in the months to come when the DVD is released and apparently the film crew saw fit to show the world the part that isn't Draco and Harry, but Tom and Dan.

You don't mind.

Not really.

xiii.

You're thirteen when he is fifteen, and he's almost legal soon, you think. It must be absolutely exciting for him. You've heard other blokes talk about the big Sixteen and what they'll do when it comes around. And of course, they talk about girls.

The girls your age are just starting to show that they actually are a race of aliens from Venus that you'll never understand. Your voice cracks when you talk sometimes, and it bothers you while it makes him laugh (his birthday party was just embarrassing) and you think of how this has all happened to him already.

You don't talk about girls when you're with him. It's always just me and you and us, and you grin even as he smears cake on your face. You shove some onto his almost non-existent hair (he's shaved it for the next movie already) and he grins back. There's something in his eyes that you don't see when you look at anyone else except for the occasional fangirl that you think you might like to meet, but you don't because it's just a bit awkward and you laugh it off as you sign their shirt or paper or whatever it is they brought along with them before joining people who see you as you first before the star.

It's soft, little crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and the edges of his smiles are eased with something that you think you'd like to see more of.

You laugh, and suddenly it's not awkward anymore.

xiv.

Fourteen, and you're filming again. Your life has been a blur of people and colours and flashes of light as people make you wake up in the early hours of the morning and ask you to pose for pictures. Like you're a movie star.

You are, aren't you, ever since the day you were told you were going to be Harry Potter (and you ended up crying because you were only eleven -- emotion was always very hard to hold in for you) and that's just a little bit frightening.

He's a lot more experienced with it than you are -- a better actor, too -- so he takes you through the steps and teaches you The Business.

You have to get furious in your next scene, and how will you pull that off, you wonder. You've never been a very angry person.

He yells in your face when you least expect it and it terrifies you, the rage that he lets show, and then he's tickling you and acting like some sort of dinosaur as he moves his hands in some odd, crazy movement. It's just hysterical (after the fright wears off) and you laugh, try to mimic his expression and fail horribly, but you're getting somewhere.

He has faith in your skills, and the least you could do is believe him.

xv.

A snowball hits the back of your head, and you splutter before ducking down to form one of your own quickly and hurl it towards the boy in the furry hat. The director calls a cut and you're both going to get into so much trouble for screwing this take up, but you hide smiles behind the collars of your winter coats and you think it was worth it.

You risk losing another take by stuffing snow down his shirt just before you both redo the scene again and he yelps. You're so going to get it after filming is over.

(And of course, you do, because he's nicer and more patient than you, but that doesn't mean he's any less stubborn.)

Your back is cold and there's icy water dripping down your neck and your face is freezing as he tackles you onto the ground, and then --

Lips against your own, and you never knew how warm he was (sun and lake and a stench that you still hate him for, and you think you should have known); and it's all an accident, you see it in the widening of his eyes, but then it isn't when there's just a bit more pressure against your skin, melts away the flakes of snow upon your cheeks, and you.

You've just had your first kiss with another bloke.

You push him away as you run, and half of you (the louder half) is glad that no one is there and that that was the last scene you needed to do with him for the rest of the movie. The other half thinks that if you were to look back, you would think otherwise.

You think that you hear him running after you, but if he does, you lose him in the crowd of Hogwarts students.

xvi.

You don't want to see him again ever except for the fact that you miss him and you really don't mean that. It would be a lot less complicated if you did, though, you think. But there's another movie where you're the star, while he's the school rival, and there's no way you could avoid him forever. It's not like you've tried very hard either way.

You don't have to talk to him at first, but he has to talk to you, and when he speaks, there's something bitter and lost about his tone. You can't tell whether it's from his character or from him, and you're not exactly talking yet, so you can only assume it's both.

(He's a really good actor, better than you are even though he doesn't plan to always be one, and some days, you just don't know.)

You're confused when you do your next scene with him, and when you push him like the script told you to, it's not as forceful as it should be. He looks at you as you turn your head away, and when the director calls it a day, you corner him and say you're sorry because you were always the braver one.

He was always the more mature one, so he tells you that you're forgiven, and you don't talk about what happened to start this whole thing. Everything is like how it had always been.

You discover that he's gotten himself a girlfriend, and you sort of feel like how Harry felt when he tried to ask Cho to the ball and failed.

xvii.

At the end of the fourth movie and just before the fifth one, you have some time to do another movie as well as take your tests for school.

In the movie, you're supposed to kiss a girl, and when you do, you pull it off satisfactorily for your new director, but you don't feel anything about it at all. You're sixteen, almost seventeen, and you think you should -- you do, just a bit -- but you also don't.

You call him up when you fly back home and you both hang out together. There's not a lot of physical pranks between you two anymore, and you miss that.

Sometimes, he'll hesitate with his hand in the air as he turns towards you, and you think he misses it too.

But there's a reason why you've stopped.

xviii.

There are huge scenes between your character and his in the next movie -- that is, if they're not cut out of the final product -- and what time you can spend together, you do.

There's a part in the film where he runs after you, and it's panic and confusion on your part as you try to escape his grasp. There are no crowds of people around you this time, and fingers snatch the black material of your robes and pull you back. You let him.

This all seems oddly familiar.

xix.

Once, he asks you why you don't have a girlfriend. There are enough birds in the world that he's certain you could get one if you wanted to. He's never seen you with one before and he wonders if you've ever even had one. In the nicest way possible, of course.

(He's right. You've never.)

You tell him you're just rubbish with girls (and it's true, isn't it, because there was a time when you couldn't even kiss a girl properly), and that you just haven't found the right person yet.

Person, not girl.

You don't really want to talk about it, but you ask him about Melissa anyway. It seems like the thing you should do, what with the topic and all, and it's not like you have anything against her. You're sure she must be a very nice girl if Tom is dating her. It's just the principle of the matter.

He tells you that they've broken up and you think holding your breath like that will make you pass out with the lack of oxygen sooner or later. So you breathe.

They broke up because she knew he was in love with someone else and she had felt like a replacement. Maybe, he confesses quietly, she was.

A laugh, calm and sad, and it didn't work, obviously, he continues.

The knuckles of your hands collide together in the barest of touches and you tilt your head up to kiss him.

xx.

And so he tells you that he's in love with you and he has been since you've both met.

You don't quite know how you feel on the matter yourself yet, but you think --

You think that you could fall in love with him too.

(Maybe you already have.)

➡ [ fic: prince of tennis ] oishi/eiji; Tea Set For Two

2007-05-12T02:56:43Z

Series: Prince of Tennis; Oishi Syuichirou/Kikumaru Eiji
Rated: PG-13
Summary: Patience is a virtue. (Written for lexicon. Can also be found here.)
Disclaimer: Characters © Konomi Takeshi
Title: Tea Set For Two

There is a silence and deep calm when Eiji comes home to their flat. (Their flat, but he will never say, "our flat" because it's not. It's not and they're only here together because they are friends.) The silence doesn't bother him, but the calm does.

Eiji comes home, tells Oishi he's been dumped again, and heads to his room.

Oishi sits and drinks his tea. Scalds his tongue so he sets down the cup and waits.

Waits.

---

A week later finds Eiji stumbling into their flat again, drunk and with his arms around a huge bulk of a man. He giggles and waves to Oishi, introduces him to Jason ("He's from America! Isn't that exciting, Oishi?") before they head towards Eiji's bedroom.

Eiji swears that this time, maybe, it could be love.

Oishi knows better because Eiji's eyes tell him that he's given up. It's been years and months and days (hours and minutes and seconds) and he's brought home enough men to the flat to fit in his bed and then some.

He takes another sip of tea, but it is still too hot. So he continues to wait.

---

Eiji starts bringing men home every night now; short and lean, tall and handsome, dark and mysterious. He's really not too picky.

The tea is bitter on his tongue now, and he's not sure he could stomach it.

So he takes a deep breath and throws it away. Decides to make a new cup.

---

There is a time when no one comes home, but no one leaves either.

Eiji has locked himself in his bedroom and refuses to come out. Oishi wishes he could help him, hold him close and comfort him, but he's not sure if that will be welcome. If that will be too much. (Too much too fast and he's still waiting and waiting and he might just die from it, or maybe from lack of it.)

There are two cups of tea now, but they've gone cold ages ago.

---

They say that you are blind to that which is nearest to you, and maybe it's true.

The first time is rushed and desperate. There are tears on the pillow and it could be from either of them. It's an accident in the way that it is a release.

The second time is slow and sensual, and they might cry because of that, too. It's a break down (and they're building each other together again, making themselves whole again) and this --

This might be what Eiji's been looking for.

This might be what Oishi's been waiting for.

There are two cups of tea now, and Eiji takes a sip. Says that it's really good, Oishi. How'd you make it so good?

Patience, he replies.

Tea set for two is sweeter.

➡ [ ficlet: prince of tennis ] oishi/eiji; Detention

2007-05-12T02:39:39Z

Series: Prince of Tennis; Oishi Syuichirou/Kikumaru Eiji
Rated: PG
Summary: There are many ways to get a detention.
Disclaimer: Characters © Konomi Takeshi
Title: Detention

There are, Oishi Syuichirou thought to himself, many many ways for a student to get a detention. There were also just as many ways to avoid detention. Namely, not getting caught.

Oishi Syuichirou had no intention of getting caught, but that wasn't how the world worked.

"Oishi Syuichirou. Kikumaru Eiji."

"... Yes?"

"Exactly why are you two making out in the clubhouse?"

➡ [ fic: prince of tennis ] tezuka/oishi; Sub Rosa

2007-05-12T02:33:54Z

Series: Prince of Tennis; Tezuka Kunimitsu/Oishi Syuichirou
Rated: G
Summary: sub ro·sa (adv.) - In secret; privately or confidentially. (Can also be found here.)
Challenge: #11 gardenia - くちなしの花. (30_kisses)
Disclaimer: Characters © Konomi Takeshi
Title: Sub Rosa

"'Nii-chan! (Brother!) Look what I got today!"

"Hmm? That's a nice flower."

"It's not just a flower, you idiot. It's a red rose. That's supposed to mean true love!"

"That's interesting. Flowers have different meanings now?"

"Of course! The language of the flowers! Isn't it just so romantic?"

"I guess so."

"... Hey. What sort of flower would you give to someone?"

---

It was with great confusion that Tezuka had stared down at his desk with in the early hours of the morning. Sunlight shone into the room, falling softly upon every surface it could reach, painting everything a pale yellow hue. It refracted into a quiet radience as it streamed through the windows, making the pure white gardenia take upon an almost dream-like apperance.

It was a beautiful sight, Tezuka mused silently to himself. But why was there a strange flower on top of his desk, and who put it there?

"Secret love," a calm, familiar voice answered behind him, making Tezuka turn around. Oishi stood a small foot away from him, glancing alternately at the flower and Tezuka with a hesitant air.

"Oishi?"

"It... It means secret love," Oishi repeated, cheeks flushing a light pink, though Tezuka wasn't able to identify why. "A gardenia means secret love in the language of the flowers."

He looked up to meet Tezuka's questioning gaze shyly before turning away, blush still evident on his face. "They're expensive flowers. Someone must really like you."

He missed the gentle look on Tezuka's face as he relaxed his shoulders and delicately picked up the flower, pocketing it to keep it safe.

---

The vibrant red was the first thing Oishi noticed upon entering the room. He reached his hand out, slowly, uncertainly, as if it was all a fragile illusion that could shatter under his fingertips.

A rose. A red rose.

At first, Oishi had glanced up, convinced that he was at the wrong desk. But when his eyes fell on Tezuka's across the room in a muted exchange, he understood.

With a smile that seemed to want to rival the sun, Oishi brought the rose up to his lips, kissing the smooth crimson petals against his skin.

➡ [ fic: prince of tennis ] tezuka/oishi; Such Great Heights

2007-05-12T02:26:27Z

Series: Prince of Tennis; Tezuka Kunimitsu/Oishi Syuichirou
Rated: G
Summary: Come down now, they'll say. But everything looks perfect from far away. (Can also be found here.)
Challenge: #13 excessive chain - 余計な鎖. (30_kisses)
Disclaimer: Characters © Konomi Takeshi
Title: Such Great Heights

The rocks beneath his gloves tugged at the thick material. Tugged and tried to cut through, but failed. Nevertheless, it made Oishi stiffen, gave him something to distract himself with besides looking down and wondering how far up they really were. The mountain wasn't very steep, or really high, in standard mountain climbing terms. But it felt steep, and it seemed really high, and that's what mattered.

When Tezuka had asked him if he'd like to go mountain climbing, Oishi had smiled and accepted without a second thought. It was one of Tezuka's favourite things to do, mountain climbing, and Oishi had wanted to try it too. Plus, he thought it would be a good experience.

There was one thing that had slipped his mind though, and something that he neglected to tell Tezuka even after he remembered, so as not to worry him. Heights made him a bit edgy.

It wasn't that he was scared of heights, oh no, far from that. They just didn't agree with him all the time. When he thought of towering above a fraction of the earth and looking down at things that seemed so far away, he felt dizzy and weak, even if it was a breath-taking sight to behold (and maybe, he thought, that was why Tezuka liked to climb). It made him feel like he was falling, tumbling down at a speed that seemed inhuman, the wind whistling past his ear -- and the thumping of his heartbeat increased.

Oishi was a person of many worries and precautions. He didn't like to fall.

From where he currently was, he looked down, regretting it instantly as he turned his head to face the stone wall again. He shut his eyes tight and took deep breaths to calm himself down.

Okay, maybe he was just a bit scared of heights.

A tug at his belt made him open his eyes again and look up, meeting the questioning gaze of Tezuka's eyes. He wondered how Tezuka had the nerve to glance down like that without looking even just a little bit nervous (in Tezuka's own monotone way, of course). He pulled once at the long chain that connected him to Tezuka, their signal for telling each other that they were okay, and continued to climb up the rocky surface. He wished they were closer though (he thought that the chain between them was excessively long, distancing them more than necessary), but made do with shaky hands and promised not to slow Tezuka down. Still, it would have made him feel better if they were closer. He trusted Tezuka though, knew that the other would never let him fall, and carried on.

They continued to climb in silence for a while, stopped to rest on the first ledge they found, and then continued scaling the towering mass of stone again. Oishi was careful not to look below him; though he gave a little peek over the edge every time they rested to satisfy his curiosity. He didn't want to cause Tezuka to worry again -- they were supposed to be having fun on this trip, after all -- but it seemed Tezuka had gotten a hint about his fear-but-not-fear of heights. He glanced down at Oishi now and then to make sure that he was alright.

It grew colder as they got closer to the top. Oishi tugged his clothing around him to keep warm, shivering a little. They were three quarters up the mountain now. Almost there, he told himself, mouthing the words to encourage himself on. His fingers and face were chilled by the wind that blew up to meet them, forcing Oishi to hang on tight as his fears of falling off returned. One step, two steps... Almost there.

The closer they got, the harder it was for them to find a foothold, it seemed, but they zigzagged upwards, making their way slowly and steadily. Oishi reached out a hand to grab onto the next nook he found, fingers grasping at the rock...

But there was no nook.

His body tensed, felt the wind whistle past his head as his fingers found nothing and started to fall. Besides the wind, falling wasn't at all how he imagined it. It was as if everything was in slow motion, and though he imagined himself panicking if he ever fell, his mind was perfectly clear. It felt like he was a third person, watching himself stumble.

I'm falling, he thought.... Or maybe it's just my mind? I should tell Tezuka before he falls too.

A shout from above woke him from his thoughts. He gasped, gripped on tight to the chain and dug his heels into the mountain to try and slow himself down from his sudden descent. Panic started to settle around the edge of his mind, threatening to take over as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and prayed. Please don't fall, please don't fall, please don't fall.

The chain connected to his belt gave a sharp jerk, knocking all the air from his stomach out in one short exhale of breath, heart thumping wildly against his chest. The wind picking at his hair slowed down to its original speed, replaced with small rocks that he had loosened from his frantic skid down. One of the rocks bashed against his head, almost smugly, on its way down, making him wince.

But he wasn't falling anymore.

He was so concentrated on the fact that he wasn't plunging towards the ground, that his heart was beating a million miles per second, that the darkness of his eyelids were so much more calming than the real world; he didn't even notice the scuffling of feet coming down towards him until a warm body pressed next to his and he felt a heart beat that matched his own.

Oishi's eyes opened to the sharp gaze of hazel staring down at him. He gulped.

"Are you okay?" He thought he heard concern in Tezuka's usually calm voice.

"Y -- Yes..." A slight tremor that he couldn't quite hide, not from Tezuka.

A sigh, a quiet murmur. "You worried me."

"I'm sorry... I must have pulled you down too." He felt a sudden dread in knowing what he could have caused to both of them.

"I'm used to it."

Oishi tried to give a weak grin. "I'm not."

"... At least you've calmed down."

He gave a shaky laugh. He wasn't so sure of that.

Tezuka regarded him calmly for a moment, glasses skewed on his face from the fall (it wasn't characteristic of Tezuka, but Oishi thought it looked almost endearing). He looked like he was pondering something deeply for that quiet instant, lips pressed thinly in thought and eyes taking that look of command and careful precision. Slowly, he leaned over and pressed a kiss against the growing bump on Oishi's forehead, then moved to capture Oishi's lips with his own.

Oishi felt like he was falling again -- or flying, he wasn't too sure. But then again, wasn't flying just like falling upwards?

Suddenly, he wasn't afraid of heights anymore.

Suddenly, he didn't mind falling as much.

"Come," Tezuka whispered when they broke apart. He tugged on the rope that was tied to the top of the mountain. "We're almost to the top."

Oishi just nodded, grinned again and continued on with renewed strength.

➡ [ fic: prince of tennis ] tezuka&oishi; Understatement

2007-05-12T01:45:05Z

Series: Prince of Tennis; Tezuka Kunimitsu & Oishi Syuichirou
Rated: G
Summary: I've always wanted to know more about you. (Can also be found here.)
Disclaimer: Characters © Konomi Takeshi
Title: Understatement

I'm not sure when we met, or how it happened, or if we were really supposed to meet at all. I'm not sure if I bothered you when I first approached you with that yellow sphere of a ball in my hand, or if you really cared enough to keep me around. I'm not sure if I was welcomed, or why anything happened the way it did so that we would have a chance to say 'hello' and part our ways -- just to turn back around and look at each other with that light of acceptance shining in our eyes, knowing that the other was there. That the other existed.

I'm not even sure if you hated me, or if I liked you.

Then again, I'm not sure if it mattered, really. Because I found you amongst the dirt and muck of the worn out tennis courts, like you would find a shiny silver quarter sparkling up at you through the dull earth colours of the world, and I followed you.

I wanted to know more about you.

Maybe you saw something like that inside myself; I'm not sure why you would, I don't see anything grand or sparkling about me, but you let me into your life slowly, gradually, like sand flowing through an hour glass one grain at a time. It just made sense, somehow, for acquintance to turn into friendship, to florish into best friends, to even transform into an almost fondness that only brothers could share. I even felt close enough to you to yell, tell you what I thought about you when I believed that you were truly flawed. (Ah, but that is an embarrassing moment to recall. I didn't mean to yell, though I suppose someone had to say something eventually. I can't help but smile when I remember -- it was the first time I've seen you look so shocked.)

I was learning, slowly but surely.

It was -- I can't even place my finger on it -- something that fascinated me about you. Drew me in and never let me go, and yet parted a pathway for me to leave if I so wished, but I didn't want to. I watched you from the sidelines, saw you raise and soar like a shooting star, and I know I grinned as I watched you play, shared in you silent victory as you stood victorious beside your opponent, clasping their hand before walking away. I ignored the rude gestures and snide comments that others made when they noticed me by you. ("You look like a lost puppy," they would say. "What are you? His servent? I bet you worship the ground he walks on.") I always ignored them, because you were worth it, because you were beyond that. Somewhere along the way, you became more than a fascination. You were part of my life, a human, a leader, a friend, a partner. ("The Nationals," you had said to me. "We will make it there. Together.")

Still, I've always wanted to know more about you.

I've told you this before, tried to explain it through words and gestures that made sense in my mind, but I'm not sure it made it to you in the same way it should have played out in my thoughts. Maybe it's that mysterious air that you have around you, the way I was lucky enough to see you grow from the start and head to the top to make it there and stay. Maybe it was both, or neither of those options at all. Though, either way, three years later, and I still feel like I hardly know you. But I would like to.

You told me that I knew you already.

From the beginning, I had seen your flaws, watch you become who you were today, and stayed there by your side as the quiet and timid boy who had grown into so much more. I listened and understood in a way no one else understood you, and I was willing to stay by you no matter what happened, or what the others said, or what would have happened. I had seen your life, inside and outside tennis. I had studied with you, worked and helped where I could, and asked for nothing in return. That's what you told me. That I knew you already, and whatever else I didn't know didn't matter so much. If they did, I would have probably known them too. I would know them eventually.

It was me who you didn't know.

I laughed, and told you the exact same thing from my point of view.

I've always wanted to know more about you.

I've always wanted to be able to understand you.

Now, I feel like I do. At least, a little better than before.

➡ [ fic: prince of tennis ] tezuka/eiji; No Reason

2007-05-12T01:25:06Z

Series: Prince of Tennis; Tezuka Kunimitsu/Kikumaru Eiji
Rated: G
Summary: Logic's a funny thing. (For Kescha as a challenge. Can also be found here.)
Disclaimer: Characters © Konomi Takeshi
Title: No Reason

"Hey, buchou..."

Kikumaru Eiji was a ball of energy. He chattered a lot and hardly stopped, had quite the short attention span when it came to things that (he thought) mattered, was always distracted, was always moving --

"Buchooou~! I'm booored!"

-- And never stopped nagging, either.

"We have work to do."

"Yeah, but it's boring. I don't even think I'll use Science in my life ever."

However, he always smiled, was cheery, bright, full of joy, and radiated a warmth that equalled a nice cozy fireplace on a snowy winter's day. Kikumaru Eiji was like the sun.

"It is still a necessary part of our education."

The total opposite, Tezuka had to say, of himself. And not in a good way either.

"Not mine."

After many moments spent alone analyzing the situation, Tezuka came to the conclusion, quite carefully and exact, that he had no reason at all to like Kikumaru Eiji in the way he did.

A sigh. "Kikumaru --"

"Wah!"

Absolutely, he told himself for what must have been the 30th time (36, he corrected himself mentally), absolutely no reason at all to like him.

A big cheeky grin spread across the red head's face, lighting up every feature as he pointed outside to the backyard at the poud. "Ne, ne, Tezuka, you own koi?! Can we go see? Please please please?"

So why did he?

"... We have to finish our homework afterwards. Ten minutes."

Maybe, he thought to himself --

"Okay, okay! Come on, let's go~! I want to see the fishies!"

"They're koi, Kikumaru. Not 'fishies.'"

-- he didn't need one.

As Kikumaru Eiji bounded away ahead of Tezuka and out the back door, Tezuka let slip the tiniest of smiles, before smoothing his face back to its neutral state.

➡ [ fic: prince of tennis ] oishi&eiji; Black Gold

2007-05-12T00:40:34Z

Series: Prince of Tennis; Oishi Syuichirou & Kikumaru Eiji
Rated: G
Summary: Many men go fishing their entire lives without knowing it is not fish they are after. (Can also be found here and here.)
Disclaimer: Characters © Konomi Takeshi
Title: Black Gold

Oishi Syuichioru and Kikumaru Eiji were at the New Years Fest. It wasn't located quite near them, they had had to take the subway to get there. The rest of Eiji's family had made other plans already, so Eiji decided to go with Oishi and his family, whom they were to meet at the location.

It had taken them a while to get to the festival, ("I swear you had to take that train last year...") but they were there. Dressed in a crimson coloured kimono, Eiji tugged at Oishi's deep violet one as he pointed up towards the sky, smiling brightly as they watched the fireworks going off.

After the brilliant fireworks display, they walked around and explored the many stands set up. Some contained food, which they bought if they were hungry (most of the money came from Oishi, though he didn't mind at all) some were just stands that held traditional Japanese souvenirs. And then there were the rest, which were mostly games that earned you a small prize, like a toy airplane.

As they strolled along, one stand in particular caught Eiji's eye. He had skipped over to it then, dragging Oishi with him, to oogle at the little goldfish that sawm around in their little fish tank.

The owner of the stand, and said goldfish, gave them a toothy grin as he explained his stand to the oblivious Eiji, (who was gazing intently, almost gleefully, at the fish) and Oishi (who tried to listen to the old man before he got distracted by Eiji).

Basically, it was one of those stands where you paid a certain fare to try and catch a goldfish. In this case, the fare was 500 yen.

Digging into his wallet, Eiji handed over 500 yen, then took the small tool used for catching the fish, and a bag, which he filled with water. He was quite adorable, Oishi thought, as he watched Eiji trying to catch a fish, just the tinist bit of his tongue sticking out as he concentrated.

Unfortunately, Eiji wasn't able to capture one of the swimming gold bodies. He gave a pout, before turning to Oishi and babbling away. He had wanted a fish because fish were important to Oishi, and he would've been able to take it home since it was a prize (that was only 500 yen!) and he'd finally have a pet! And when Oishi wasn't there, it could feel like a small part of him was, anyway. Because they were the Golden Pair, and they shouldn't be separated, nya!

Oishi listened silently and smiled, amusement shining in his emerald green eyes. He handed over 500 yen to the old man and turned to ask Eiji which fish he wanted.

Blinking wide blue eyes that sparkled with joy, Eiji grinned and pointed entheastically at a black goldfish - the only one in the whole tank.

---

Hours later, said goldfish would be living in a bowl of water for sometime. Eiji would need to ask his parents if he could get a small fish tank - and of course, if he could even keep the fish in the first place. ("But it's a gift! From Oishi! And we can't refuse gifts!")

And later on, when Oishi's family had dropped Eiji off and were gone, Eiji would stare at the little bagged up sea being in his hands, smile, and call it Syuichirou – Syu-chan for short.

➡ [ fic: prince of tennis ] oishi&eiji; Doubles

2007-05-12T00:20:47Z

Series: Prince of Tennis; Oishi Syuichirou & Kikumaru Eiji
Rated: G
Summary: Until the day I defeat you.
Disclaimer: Characters © Konomi Takeshi
Title: Doubles

"Until the day I defeat you, I'll play doubles with you!"

---

Those were the words Kikumaru Eiji shouted to him a long time ago. And so, Oishi Syuichirou always trained to be just a bit better, just a bit stronger, so he could keep himself ahead of his doubles partner.

They played many matches against each other, each usually ending by a close 6-5 or 6-4. Oishi was still ahead.

He always knew there was something special about this one boy, the one with the tousled red mane and bright, bright smile. And when he figured out exactly what that special thing about Eiji was, he wondered if he could afford losing him.

He trained that much harder after he knew, and the matches grew to 6-3. Eiji would not give up though. And Oishi knew that one day, Eiji would beat him and leave his side.

This is what Oishi Syuichirou belived, and he had accepted that fact long ago – but it did not mean that he would give up that easily, if it meant holding onto the sunshine in his life for a while longer.

---

"Game to Kikumaru, 6-5!"

"Woohoo!"

He knew this day would eventually come, so why did it hurt so?

"Congratulations, Eiji. It was a really good game." A smile. He wasn't ready to give up his doubles partner yet, not ready to let go even if Eiji was now prepared to face the world alone. He could pretend he was though.

"I've never beaten you in a game before! It feels good, nya!"

Yeah, it probably did. And Oishi felt just a small spark of heartache.

"Oishi? Something wrong?"

"... No, nothing at all." He guessed it might've showed in his eyes. Just a bit.

"Good! 'Cause we have to ask Inui 'n Kaidou to play us next! There's a tournament we need to practice for!"

Oishi blinked. Once. Twice. "Eiji –"

"Hoi! Unless... You want me to stop play doubles with you? Oishi! Do you really?!"

Eiji almost looked hurt, gazing intently at Oishi as he stopped skipping and turned to face Oishi.

It took Oishi a few brief seconds to process that sentence into his brain. The reply was instant.

"No, of course not."

"Good! Then let’s go find Inui and Kaidou, nya!" A happy giggle, and Eiji was running off, dragging Oishi by his arm.

Some promises, Oishi learned, were meant to be broken.

➡ [ fic: prince of tennis ] oishi/eiji; I Think I'm In Love

2007-05-12T00:08:31Z

Series: Prince of Tennis; Oishi Syuichirou/Kikumaru Eiji
Rated: G
Summary: Maybe he's in love, too. (Can also be found here and here.)
Disclaimer: Characters © Konomi Takeshi
Title: I Think I'm In Love

"I think I'm in love."

A tiny tilt of his head, and he was staring sideways at Kikumaru. He sipped through his straw thoughtfully as he noticed the small movements his doubles partner made. A soft, pink glow had started to paint itself over the once lightly tanned cheeks, and while Kikumaru had been the one who was, in his words, thirsty to death, the drink he bought rested quietly in both his hands. There was no move that indicated that he would drink it soon, and a finger would sometimes come up to run itself smoothly over the rim of the cup, almost as if he were nervous.

Oishi slowly withdrew the drink from his lips, pondering how to respond. A moment of peaceful silence echoed between the pair, before broken by a single question.

"Why?"

"Eh – W... Well..." Kikumaru retorted. Almost too quickly, Oishi thought to himself. "That... That is... Have you ever been around someone so much, thought they were like your best friend, and... and then... Suddenly...?"

He left the question hanging. The quiet blush on his face had turned from pastel pink, to a light rose-y hue in a few seconds. Oishi turned his body, facing Kikumaru as he placed the drink carefully beside him. He gave a small smile, and nodded.

Yeah, I understand.

"I don't really know why, or understand why it was who it was, but it just happened... And well, I don’t really know what to do." He frowned, the corners of his mouth turned slightly, but it was as soon turned downwards before Kikumaru slapped himself lightly, shaking his head as he placed that ever cheerful grin upon his face and laughed. "I must sound real weird or something."

"Not at all, Eiji," was Oishi's reply. He rested his chin upon his hands, gazing up at Kikumaru patiently, waiting to hear his entire story. This caused Kikumaru to cough a bit, turning away so he wouldn’t have to see those eyes. Oishi smiled once again. An offer to grab a drink alone together, confessing that he was in love with someone, and small signs of nervousness and embarrassment. Kikumaru was never much of a tactful kind of person.

"Does he know?"

"N – No... He doesn't..." And Kikumaru never did notice how Oishi knew it was a he.

"... What's he like?"

The question caused Kikumaru to blink, finally turning back to look Oishi straight in the face. "I – Well..." The usually hyper boy twiddled his thumbs uneasily, swinging his feet lightly over the bench where they sat alone in the park. The blush on his face seemed to radiate a soft glow now, one that nearly matched the now setting sun. And Oishi thought it cute.

"He's... He's a really, really special guy to me. 'Cause whenever I need help, he's always there! And he's kind and honest and all those good things!" Kikumaru's face brightened up as he talked, sometimes making gestures with his hands to emphasize his point more clearly. "It's always easy to talk to him about anything, and I love just being around him because it's always nice and peaceful where he is. I can trust him fully and know that he's there to rely on. He cheers me up, and I can do the same sometimes when he's worried, and that just makes me happy knowing I can do that! He makes me... feel special."

He smiled, almost shyly, studying the floor with faked interest.

"Do you dream about him?"

"I – No! Well... Yes, and... N – Not in that way, of course!" Kikumaru squealed, his blush turning practically the same colour as his hair. Oishi just chuckled.

"What do you dream about, then?"

"Just... things... Ya know, like a date, or a nice walk on the beach by ourselves..." Kikumaru's voice grew distant as he shifted his feet, seeing within his mind visions and glimpses of a faraway hope that he thought would never come true.

"... Him kissing you?"

Kikumaru stuttered at the unexpected question, almost jumping up in surprise while Oishi laughed heartily. "Oishi!"

"Well, do you?" he asked again.

"... Yeah..."

"... So you think you're in love?"

Kikumaru paused to think, his feet swaying steadily underneath him.

"... No, I know I'm in love."

"Tell him that."

A startled look from Kikumaru’s face as he looked up caused Oishi to laugh. "O – Oishi! That's not funny!"

"I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't have laughed." Oishi regained himself quickly, nodding an apology to Kikumaru, who waved it away with a hand.

"But... How, Oishi? I'm..."

"You're what?"

"I'm... Well, I'm... nervous. Hey – What do you think you're doing?! Not my hair!"

At that moment, Oishi had grinned and ruffled Kikumaru's hair playfully. Kikumaru, in reply, had tried to swat away the hand, but missed as he fumed and pouted up at his friend. He tried to glare, but failed miserably when he just earned himself another hair ruffling and muttered under his breath, "You're messing up my hair..."

"You silly goose, just tell him all that you've told me."

"I'm no goose!"

"Cat then, better?"

"... It'll do."

Kikumaru took a sip from his neglected soft drink, biting the straw as he considered what they've talked about so far. Oishi took a drink from his own bottle, waiting patiently. He watched Kikumaru, who idly raised a hand up to straighten his hair. "I'm afraid... of being rejected."

"Didn't you say that he's like your best friend?"

"Y – Yeah..."

"That you can tell him anything and trust him?"

"Yes, but..."

"What are you afraid of then?"

"Well..." He twirled a curl of red hair around his finger, gazing out over at the little children's playground, where the kids looked so happy. Not burdened with troubles like his. "There are others... who like him too."

"But he's single, isn't he?"

"Yeah..."

"Have people asked him out?"

"They were rejected..."

"Maybe he's waiting for you."

"N – No way!" Kikumaru stared wide-eyed at Oishi, almost dropping his drink, but catching it just in time. The blush that had slowly died away as they talked flared up again rapidly over his cheeks. "He's not! Well, I don't know that... but... Well!"

"Well...?"

"Oishiiiii...!" Kikumaru huffed indignantly, beating curled up fists playfully at his partner’s head.

"O – Oi! Okay, okay. I'm sorry, Eiji!" He laughed; trying at the same time to fend himself from Kikumaru's flailing fists. When there was a chance, he grabbed Kikumaru's arms around the wrist, pinning them down to the bench, which caused another nervous cough from Eiji as he pulled his hands away and stopped.

"But what if he rejects me?"

"He won't."

"If he does...? What if he decides that he doesn't want to even be my friend then! Oishiiii... I couldn’t bear that if that happens! I just couldn't!"

"Why not?"

"He's... he makes my life brighter... It's easier to smile and laugh each day with him there... I don't want him to go... He..." Kikumaru’s voice died down to a low whisper, making Oishi bend down nearer to him to be able to hear the next words. "He's the golden part of my life..."

"He won't go," Oishi whispered back, grinning as he took another sip of his drink.

"How would you know that?"

"How wouldn't I? You're a real sweet guy, Eiji," Oishi said. "I mean that, seriously," he added after taking a quick glance over at Kikumaru’s face, mistaking the blush and frowning face for anger instead of what it really was, confusion and embarrassment. "Tell him, Eiji."

"I can't..." Kikumaru stared up at Oishi, meeting his gaze and returning it steadily, a look of almost desperate hope shining in those blue eyes.

"I thought that you were in love," Oishi stated firmly, leaning in a little to brush away a stray lock of auburn hair that hung loosely over Kikumaru's face.

"I am in love..." he responded back, strong and clear.

I am in love... So please, tell me that –

"Maybe he's in love too," Oishi whispered.

A hand trailed up towards Kikumaru’s face, cupping the pink-dyed cheek and caressing it softly with his thumb. Kikumaru's heart skipped a beat, breath catching almost painfully in his throat. Carefully, Oishi leant down and brought their foreheads together, faces only a few millimetres apart. And they wondered what would happen if–

They didn't know who had made the first move, but suddenly those lips that had haunted both their dreams were pressed together ever so softly. It was the sweetest thing that had ever happened to either of them, seeming to last forever and a lifetime. Both preferred it that way.

Soon afterwards, they broke apart; though this time, Kikumaru had laced his arms around Oishi's neck, and Oishi held the breathless boy close to him. Silence filled the atmosphere, broken only by the whistling wind that made Kikumaru shiver and made Oishi hug him closer.

"Is he... really in love as well, Oishi?" Kikumaru whispered, murmuring softly against the other pair of lips.

Oishi just smiled, nuzzling the other gently as he whispered back just as quietly, "Yes, Eiji. He is. And he won't leave you. Ever."