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ciaossu-imagines · 1 year

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Prompt number 13 for khr yamamoto & haru pls? I think they’d get on well!

Of course, anon dear! I completely agree that Yamamoto and Haru would definitely have an interesting and fun friendship! Thank you for the request and I hope you’ll enjoy!

Can we have some more platonic ship prompts?? Things like:

Who’s the sassy one in this friendship?

Yamamoto is pretty chill and relaxed, so it’s definitely Haru, since she’s more than willing to sass or be upfront about her feelings on things and is more easily worked up.

Which one likes to embarrass the other in public?

I don’t think that either of them purposefully tries to embarrass the other. And it’s actually a really good thing that Yamamoto doesn’t get embarrassed easily because some of Haru’s antics could be seen as embarrassing, because she doesn’t tone down her personality just because the two of them are in public together.

Which one refuses to stop getting dressed up for Halloween no matter how old they get?

Haru makes Halloween costumes until she’s eighty and she will dress up in them and she wants everyone to dress up with her. She’s definitely made a Halloween costume for Yamamoto, who is really grateful to her for thinking of him and would wear it because, hey, this is his friend and they obviously put in a lot of work to make this for him.

Who sings along with the radio unabashedly?

I honestly can see both of them doing this together. Haru drops by TakeSushi to lend Yamamoto a textbook because he’d mentioned in the last study session he had at Tsuna’s that he didn’t understand something, and she thinks this book will help. And she ends up sticking around and helping him with some of the chores while chattering away and the radio is on in the background and a song comes on that they both like and they both mindlessly hum or sing along to it, quietly at first but by the end they’re harmonizing and rocking out to it together.

Which one picks out the movies for marathons?

I honestly think that they wouldn’t really watch movies together. Yamamoto doesn’t watch a lot of television or movies, really, and it often only happens when everyone is out together as a group. Yamamoto doesn’t really offer an opinion on what to watch since he’s pretty okay with whatever everyone else wants to see but Haru is going to be more vocal about what she wants to watch.

Do they like to cuddle? (in a platonic way of course)

I do see Haru and Yamamoto as both very physically affectionate people and do think this friendship has a lot of platonic physical affection, like he’ll ruffle her hair or she’ll give him the occasional hug or high-five but overall, I don’t think they outright cuddle each other.

Which one drags the other one shopping?

This is Haru. She really enjoys shopping and if she met Yamamoto while she’s out on her shopping trip, she’ll always ask if he wants to come shopping with her because it’s nice to have his company along and, unless he has something planned, he’s normally pretty good about agreeing to it and will end up carrying a lot of her bags as he walks her home (and then stops at Tsuna’s house on the way back to his place).

Which one is more adventurous?

I think the two of them get along pretty well together because they’re both really up for a lot of different things. Neither Yamamoto nor Haru are the type of people to be like ‘well, that is new and because it’s new to me, it obviously is going to be boring or scary, so I don’t want to do it’. They’re both eager to try new things, though Haru is more easily scared of anything she thinks could be dangerous.

What do they love to do together on a rainy day?

While rhythmic gymnastics is always going to be her sport, I do think Haru likes baseball. She has a team she roots for and does follow the national play-offs and such and, while she’s not great at it, she’ll be eager to try playing if it’s just her and her friends and not a game that matters. I could see her and Takeshi hitting the batting cages, with Takeshi helping kind of coach her on how to get better…like, Haru, please stop closing your eyes whenever the ball is coming at you because you’ll never hit it like that.

Which one loves to curl up with a good book?

This one is definitely Haru! Despite her loud personality, she really, really takes her studies seriously and I could definitely see her curled up in the bleachers of one of Yamamoto’s baseball practices with the others, reading a textbook and waiting for him to be done.

Which one always forces the other to do bad karaoke with them?

I honestly feel this would be Haru. She really enjoys karaoke and it’s something her, Bianchi, and Kyoko do a lot. I think she’d probably suggest it to Yamamoto as a fun group activity for all their mutual friends and he’s down for anything that seems fun, so he helps her organize it.

Which one loves to gossip?

I think both of them do it, honestly, but never maliciously. Neither of them are at all okay with mean-spirited gossip but they’ll find themselves talking about their mutual friends a lot and ‘Tsuna-san came with me to buy cake the other day and he did the cutest thing’ and ‘so me, Tsuna, and Gokudera were at the park the other day and this insane thing happened’ kind of gossip is more the kind that I think happens between them a lot.

Which one likes to try new foods?

I think that, unless it’s cake, Haru doesn’t try a whole lot of new foods, while Takeshi, growing up in a restaurant, has a really healthy respect for food and is eager to try anything he can.

Which one likes to travel?

This one would be Yamamoto because I really don’t headcanon Haru as someone who really ever wants to leave Namimori, except for her honeymoon. She likes her hometown, and she wants to settle in there and live a happy life.

Which one prefers to explore closer to home?

Answered this one above, but it’s definitely Haru!

#event ask #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr headcanons #headcanons #yamamoto takeshi #haru miura #i love me a good friendship #friendships really need to be respected and cherished more in fandom just saying

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belacedia · 1 year

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2. STORM : for both muses to find shelter from a severe storm. & yamamoto?

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 | list of scenarios. @dyingresolve : ❪ yamamoto takeshi ❫

𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 a grim horizon in white hot bolts of fury, cumulonimbus clouds bulging with suppressed rage until the sky was consumed fully, spewing bullets of rainwater that pelted the earth, the sky weeping and howling like the bereaved. Strands of woven gold were dark and heavy from moisture, clinging to pale features and dripping off his chin, as the prince cut through the DELUGE that curtained Namimori in misery. A grimace twisted patrician contour into a sign of displeasure with the dreary forecast, pale lace - up combat boots squelching and changing catlike grace into a cacophony. It was a whim that brought the Varia officer overseas, away from ( dare it be said ) home, a wicked impulse that he now cursed the birth of, longing for Italy’s warm Mediterranean sun, a lazy afternoon in the west lounge, forsaken for this awful downpour.

His mind abandoning design, instincts sharper than every knife in his collection leading the prince through the squall towards a sanctuary, where the storefront of Takesushi sagely sequestered away from the storm. Slipping into the eatery without ceremony, Belphegor pays heed to the FAMILIAR FACE in the front of the house, a wide grin splitting his expression. ❝ Ushishi, surprised to see the prince ? Don’t worry, this is an impromptu visit. ❞ He clarified, before the swordsman thought otherwise of a Varia assassin appearing in his home. ❝ I’m just going to stay here until the weather lightens up, shishi. It’s raining buckets out there !! ❞ An infantile cackle rose up, a dry commentary on the irony of the situation from any other person, but with the slasher prince it was unclear where he found a joke to laugh at.

#dyingresolve #*.゜♕ ┆ ❛ in character.#*.゜♛ ┆ ❛ act i ：❪ ﹠ present day. ❫

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seijaelee · 4 years

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Want to read a BNHA x KHR crossover fic??

READ THIS! 10 / 10 ! HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16477205

#bnha #mha #bokunoheroacademia #katekyohitmanreborn #khr #reborn #fic #crossover #deku #tsuna #presentmic #aizawa #takesushi #fiction #myheroacademia

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infectedpaul · 7 years

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#xefros.txt #takesushi

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strawwritesfic · 2 years

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TYL!Takeshi Yamamoto x Female!Civilian!Reader: Something Old and Something New

Summary: No matter how cold winter gets, it cannot freeze the warmth of rebirth.

Ratings/Tags: T (Post-Future Arc; Ten Years Later Universe; Foul Language; Death; Mourning; Loss of Family; Reunion; Childhood Friends; Love Epiphany; Blizzard Conditions; Christmas; Civilian!Reader; TakeSushi; Tsuyoshi Yamamoto & Takeshi Yamamoto; Squalo Superbi & Takeshi Yamamoto; Hana Kurokawa/Ryohei Sasagawa; Heavy Exposition)

Fic Trade Prompt: "The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful."

Notes: "However, after Tsuna defeated Byakuran, they were told that the future changed and all disasters caused by Byakuran and the Millefiore would be undone.”

1) I forgot about that detail until after I'd already written eight pages of this.

2) That's a stupid-ass decision, and I've elected to ignore it.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Something Old and Something New

Byakuran was gone. No trace of the world’s former dictator remained, and so vanished the threat to the Vongola across the world. Winter started a new era for Tsuna’s family in particular, one of safety and warmth and comfort. After months of fear, the holiday season was a welcome change. Takeshi Yamamoto was free at last: free to return to his baseball career, free to return to his loved ones, free to go home. He chose the latter. There was too much for him to do to attempt either of the first.

He awoke one December morning in the bedroom of his childhood. Everything was just as he remembered it, save for all the dust and a handful of cobwebs dangling from the ceiling. Underneath it all, the old trophies glistened on the shelves and photographs of times gone by hung in their frames on the walls. Even to the last, Takeshi’s old man had tried to keep things at home perfect.

Groaning, Takeshi placed his feet on the frigid hard floor and pressed his palms into his eyes. Who was he kidding? His room was not just the way he’d left it because his dad liked things neat. His room was just the way he’d left it because his pop had hoped against hope that Takeshi would come home. In the end, it hadn’t mattered that Takeshi had. He’d still come home too late.

He looked neither at the clock nor at his phone. First things first, he would pick up the newspaper. Takeshi pocketed his cell, stood with a frown, and pushed open the door that led to the hallway.

The rest of the house looked less lived-in even than his bedroom. Dust laid on the wood floor so thickly that it muffled his footsteps, leaving an obvious trail of prints in his wake. Most of all, it was cold. The closer he grew to the restaurant, the more the temperature dropped, until he could see his breath fogging before his eyes. Maybe he should have stopped to put on a robe.

As had become his habit since taking up residence in his dad’s place, Takeshi closed his eyes to pick through the empty seats and tables. He knew the route well enough by then that he didn’t trip. A few seconds later, he stood in front of the opened restaurant door—and found a blizzard blazing outside.

Ice flew so fast through the air that he could barely make out the shape of the building across the street, and what he could make out was only because he knew it so well. If that morning’s newspaper had come, already it was buried underneath several feet of snow. He closed the door with a sigh.

Wind continued to scream against it. The quiet tapping of flakes accompanied the sound. There would be no leaving the house that day. At last the task he had dreaded could no longer be avoided. When he turned, he saw the boxes, files, and paperwork stacked throughout TakeSushi’s once bustling sitting room. Takeshi had come to put everything in order before he sold the place. There was no putting it off any further.

Still, he tried. Takeshi took a long, hot shower. He shaved—his chin still looked strange to him, though the scar had been there nearly a year—and dressed warmly, started a fire in the front room’s fireplace, and ate a very slow breakfast of oatmeal. Hardly an hour of his time had gone before he sat down at the first table to begin.

Tsuyoshi Yamamoto had not left many details regarding what to do with his lifetime’s worth of belongings. Such a daunting task had got an offer of help even from Hayato of all people, but Takeshi had declined. He wanted to say goodbye to his old man on his own—or maybe he was disinclined to accept Vongola help when it was because of the Vongola that his father’s death had occurred.

Hopefully the former. It wouldn’t do for him to become so bitter after they all had come through so far.

Much of what remained was left to the family’s only child, of course. He sorted through container after container, removing things the will indicated were for people like Tsuna and Hayato, for favorite customers, and even for Tsuna’s father, whom Tsuyoshi had grown a close friendship with in the last three years or so. These would be easy to get to their new owners—Tsuna could be trusted to distribute his family’s gifts properly—but others, not so much.

Takeshi idly sifted through a box of his pop’s old school things while he listened to the phone on the other end of the line ring and ring. The noise seemed far too loud in the chilly quiet. Not even those with cars could risk getting out in this weather, leaving the neighborhood unnaturally still.

��VOI! You know who the hell you called. Leave a message. Or don’t. I don’t give a shit!”

“Squalo,” Takeshi’s voice came out of his throat unusually flat, “it’s Takeshi. Dad—well, you know. He’s left you a few things. Mostly Shigure Soen stuff. Give me a call back. I need to know how to send it to you.”

His head hanging, he hung up. He knew very well that Squalo wouldn’t call him back—not until Takeshi called another ten times and annoyed him into a rage, at any rate. There was still so much to do, so many things to give away. Maybe he wasn’t as ready to sell the place as he had once believed.

Just as he was in real danger of falling into despair, something hit the front door in rapid succession. Takeshi didn’t jump, but his focus sharpened. Only more ice, he thought. It was really coming down out there.

Then the noise came again. Longer. Harder.

Someone was outside.

The danger from the Millefiore’s leader might have passed, but Takeshi was not so foolish as to believe its members completely fine with Byakuran’s defeat. Stupidly, he had left his sword in the bedroom. Hayato would call him an idiot later, and he would deserve it.

Again, the visitor, whoever they were, knocked, and this time around they didn’t let up. Lucky for him that Squalo’s box sat so close by. He gripped one of the long objects inside and slipped it noiselessly into the air. It was only a training sword, but that didn’t matter. Anything could be turned into a deadly weapon in Takeshi’s hands.

Once he had crept to the door, he tried to peek out the window to get a better feel for what sort of threat he might be facing. He could see nothing through the blowing snow.

“I’m sorry,” he called, “but we’re closed. Permanently. You’ll have to find somewhere else to get lunch from.”

The knocking only hesitated for a second before it started up again.

“Fine,” Takeshi breathed, and threw the door open with all the force he could muster.

Startled by the ensuing bang of door against wall, the person outside stopped their racket.

He lowered his stick in surprise. “[Name]?”

Indeed his childhood friend stood there, knee deep in snow. Your face was dark behind the scarf wrapped around your neck. Frozen snot glistened on your upper lip. Most of your head and clothing was utterly indistinguishable through the ice plastered to your front. Clearly, you had walked into the wind the entire way there. Your violent shivering did nothing to distract from your scowl.

“Merry Christmas, asshole,” you snarled as you stalked past him into the building.

So taken aback by your sudden appearance was Takeshi that he did nothing to prevent you from barreling right inside. He stepped back to allow you the space, then shut the door, all the while staring at you as though he’d seen a ghost. Only after a few seconds passed did he remember to set down Squalo’s training sword.

“[Name], what are you doing here?” he asked.

You didn’t answer his question. For a moment, you said nothing at all while you tore off the sodden hat that obscured your [color] locks.

“When did you get back to Japan?” you asked him without looking in his direction.

He caught the real meaning of your question easily enough and felt color rising up the back of his cold neck. The warmth was welcome. The obviousness of his shame less so.

“Who told you?” Takeshi wanted to know.

You narrowed your [color] eyes at him. “Bianchi.”

“Oh.”

That added up. Though Takeshi had been back in the country for some time now, he hadn’t got around to seeing you. He had known that he’d left you just when things between you were settling in. How could he reappear just to tell you that it was too dangerous for you to be seen with him?

Though he had always intended to track you down eventually, he just didn’t know how to start. There had been all those messes: his younger self replacing him for several months; his father getting killed. It was Bianchi who he had planned to ask how best to approach you once he had the time. As usual, she was several steps ahead of him.

“Oh?” you repeated. “Is that all you can say for yourself? Oh?”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out through someone else.”

“Then how did you mean for me to find out? Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Yes, but—”

“All I know is, Tsuna told me I had to go into hiding. When I finally got the all clear, everyone I knew was dead or missing, and you want to pretend that didn’t happen and that I don’t exist!”

“I don’t want to pretend you don’t exist,” he protested.

‘Then why didn’t you come see me? Why didn’t you send me some sort of message?”

“I’ve been busy, [Name].” A flurry of desperation warred inside him against the deadened emptiness he felt over all those deaths you mentioned. “We had to put everything back together. And,” he swallowed, “and my old man died.”

Your eyes locked onto his. Seconds went by. Takeshi expected you to look around at the memories surrounding you, to realize that a man you both cared about was gone.

Maybe you already knew, because you didn’t do any of that. What you did do was clap your hands to your face and let out a muffled shriek. When you resurfaced, your scowl had returned.

“I am too cold and sad to yell at you right now. I’ll come back when it’s warmer, but mark my words, Takeshi Yamamoto, you are on my shit list.”

Shit list? He’d never been on your shit list before. Almost everyone you knew had been at one point, but not Takeshi. That, however, was hardly his greatest concern.

“Come back?” He blinked, and then you were passing him toward the door. Unthinkingly, he grabbed your arm. “You can’t go back out there.”

His touching you had the immediate effect of causing you to stiffen and try to wrench yourself free. “Let me go!”

“It’s too cold.”

“I don’t care!”

Takeshi didn’t let go. The longer he waited, the less you struggled—although you never once lost the prominent frown. Was this really the same girl he’d got his first kiss from when he was sixteen? Yes, he mused, you’d always been like this. He’d missed it terribly. He just hadn’t noticed until now.

“Stay until the storm blows over,” he said imploringly. “You shouldn’t have walked in it to begin with. You’ll catch cold.”

“Bet you’d have liked it if I hadn’t shown up.”

“Actually, I’m glad you came by. I’m going through Pop’s stuff, and I’m sure he left you a few things. They’ll be around here somewhere. Maybe you can help me look for it?”

“Trapped or not, I’m not helping you with anything. I’m mad at you, remember?”

His shoulders slumped. Takeshi had really screwed up if your years of childhood together, of scrapes and bruises and t-ball games in the summer heat, meant so little now. But the more he looked at the familiar shape of you and smelled your comforting scent—the same perfume as always underneath the stench of wind and wet—the less he wanted to let you leave.

“Let me make you some tea at least,” he asid.

You lifted your head to regard him down the bridge of your nose. Then you ripped your arm out of his grip and said, “Fine. Least you could do.”

“Great.” He managed a small, relieved grin. “I’ll go get it. Make yourself at home.”

After waiting to see you settled into the booth closest to the fireplace, he ducked into the back of the kitchen. He found what he was looking for almost immediately. Tsuyoshi always liked you. It was he that had suggested Takeshi ask you to his first formal mafia ball, even if telling you the reason for the ball was not permitted. As such, he was not surprised at all to find a cabinet stocked with the tea that had long been your favorite.

He returned to the front sitting room ten minutes later with a mug and a kettle full of steaming hot tea.

“I’m back!” he said, smiling. “I made your favorite.”

To Takeshi’s surprise, you no longer sat at any of the tables. He found you instead hastily surfacing from one his father’s boxes. You acted as though nothing had happened.

“Don’t think you can soften me up, Takeshi,” you said.

“I don’t. I think I can warm you up, though.”

You eyed him suspiciously as you took the cup he offered you in one hand and the kettle in the other. After pouring yourself a cup, you left the kettle on the nearest flat surface—in this case, one of the boxes Takeshi hadn’t got to yet.

“What were you looking at?” he asked, watching you take a sip.

“Nothing.”

“Did you really walk all the way here just to yell at me?”

“You deserve it.”

“Yeah. I do.” His easy smile seemed to unnerve you, so he tried a different tactic: “I’m impressed you survived. I can’t imagine anyone getting out in that.”

“What about Ryohei?”

“Hana would have kept him inside on a day like today.”

You snorted in a way that gave Takeshi heart, but you said nothing further. He waited for something to happen, but nothing did. Eventually, you walked back to your table by the fire and sat down to trace shapes into the fogged window glass.

He got up and went back to work. His phone sat next to the most recently opened box. In all the commotion of your arrival, he hadn’t noticed Squalo had sent him a text message:

“You call me ONE MORE TIME on this phone, brat, and I SWEAR TO GOD I’m dumping it and getting a new one.”

Takeshi answered, “Come on, Squalo. Some of this stuff is valuable. I’m not asking you to come all the way here to pick it up.”

Only a second after he sent that message, he thought better of it, picked his cell up again, and added, “It’d be good to see you though. You spent all your time with little me. We didn’t get to visit.”

No response. As he put the phone away, he caught you looking at him from across the room. You looked away at once. Takeshi moved on to the next container.

Time seemed to blur while he worked. Nothing existed except himself, his old man’s things, the sound of gale-force winds blasting against the walls, and the constant, nagging suggestion that he needed to do more while he had you there. He had no idea how long he’d gone without stopping—three boxes, maybe four—when he suddenly found a different mug of tea shoved in his face.

“Huh?”

He looked up. You towered above him, still looking upset.

“You should have some tea, too,” you said. “It’s freezing in here.”

Was it? He’d hardly noticed. A glance at the fireplace showed him that the fire he’d started that morning was now hardly more than glowing embers.

Takeshi twisted a grin in your direction. “Are you worried about me?” Because if you were, things might not be as dire as he’d suspected.

“Of course I’m worried about you. What?” you added defensively. “I can be pissed off at you and worried. It’s really cold.”

He laughed, making his way over to stoke the flames back to life. “That’s a lot of things to feel at once.”

“Not all of us have the emotional range of a teaspoon. Now drink your damn tea.”

Takeshi did. It thawed his insides enough to give him the courage to ask, “Remember when we’d have tea parties as kids? We’d dress up in costumes and pretend our stuffed animals were alive. Beg our parents for biscuits and say it was for them.”

“Remember when Gokudera found a photo of the time you wore one of my dresses to a tea party?”

“It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

Perhaps his soft, nostalgic smile was too much. You turned away from it and from him once again. Takeshi looked out the window. Unfortunately, the storm continued. He knew you’d rather not be stuck inside with him after he’d avoided you for so long. Keeping you here wasn’t exactly fair.

“Hey!” he heard your cry.

He rushed toward you, worried that you’d found something to make you angrier. You’d been digging around in one of the boxes he hadn’t touched yet, and there was no telling what his father had collected over the years. As soon as he got there, Takeshi saw the cause for your exclamation.

You held in your hands a framed picture, this one of you and him from middle school. He couldn’t remember why it was taken. Both of you wore your sports uniforms and beamed from inside one of TakeSushi’s many booths. A pile of empty plates nearly up to Takeshi’s head sat on the table. The way his younger self was looking at you in the photo made the present Takeshi realize he’d been in love with you long before he’d known he was in love with you.

“I didn’t realize you still had this,” you said softly, one hand stroking the glass front of the frame.

“I didn’t either,” he said. “Dad kept a lot of stuff I didn’t know about.”

“You think this is my box?”

“Maybe. If not, it should be close by. Why? Do you really want it?”

Your brusque demeanor immediately returned. “I want to get out of here as soon as possible. If I’ve got it packed when the snow stops, then I can leave without further ado.”

He understood by the wetness in your eyes that you were lying, but Takeshi decided to play along. If you didn’t want comfort, then he wouldn’t force any on you. He backed away and returned to his own assignment with only a quiet,

“Suit yourself,” he said.

He had another message: “If it’s valuable, it should belong to the Prince.” A crowned smiley face punctuated the text.

Takeshi wondered if Tsuna’s dad could get Squalo his things. It was going to take a long time to get them there himself if Squalo was in such a mood that he’d give his phone to Bel just to get rid of Takeshi’s messages.

More time passed. Ice smacked with increasing intensity against the windows. The sun set, plunging the room into darkness save for the crackling fire. Takeshi could hardly see, but still he kept going. He was afraid that if he stopped, he would never be able to start again.

Memories crowded around him: artifacts from his father’s study of Shigure Soen; secret family recipes that Takeshi already knew by heart; album after album after album filled with pictures of him as a baby, toddling around a beautiful woman he couldn’t remember who must have been his mother.

A soft sobbing and sniffling slowly penetrated his clouded mind. In his defense, he thought at first the sounds were his own. Tears streamed down his cheeks, obscuring his vision further even than the lack of sunlight. But no. That wasn’t his crying that he heard. He looked up from the album.

“[Name]?”

No reply but an increase in sobs. His vision took a few seconds to adjust to the blackness of the restaurant. Once it did, he worked out that the quivering shape by the dying flames was you.

“[Name]?” he said again.

“What?”

The word came out so soft and thick that he could hardly hear it, let alone understand it. Carefully, Takeshi picked his way to your side. This time, you didn’t glare at him or try to move father away. He crouched beside you, the better to see your tear-filled eyes.

“You okay?” he asked.

He knew you well enough to know that you wanted to shoo him off, to pretend that everything really was fine. He also knew you well enough to know you were more bothered by Tsuyoshi’s death than you pretended to be. After a minute or so of inner struggle, you shook your head and said in a watery voice:

“He wrote me a letter.”

“Who did?”

“Your—your dad.” That took Takeshi by surprise, but not as much as what you said next. “He said he hoped—hoped someday to call me his d-daughter.” With that, you dissolved fully into tears.

His hand found your shoulder and squeezed. Heartened by you not shaking him off, he said, “Hey. It’s okay. He always said stuff like that.”

You shook your head a second time, shoving the crumpled, slightly moist paper into his hand.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Still crying into your knees, you nodded.

Takeshi shifted closer to the fire to read while keeping as near to you as you would allow. The sight of his pop’s handwriting shocked him like a punch to the gut, but if you thought he should read the letter, then he would read the letter. Anything to quiet your crying.

Dear [Name],

Before I begin, I must say that I hope you can forgive an old man’s meddling in affairs that are not his business. This letter should have been sent a long, long time ago. I suppose I thought I would talk to you in person about these matters, but you haven’t been by. Not since Takeshi left. I’m not surprised. Still, I feel that I should say all this while I still can.

Takeshi leaving is what I wanted to meddle in, actually. He loves you, even if he can’t tell you everything. The boy’s got secrets even from me. The ones I know about, I cannot share with you without his permission. That’s the way things are. But secret or not, he loves you. He always has.

I know it hurts that he left. It hurts me, too. I worry about him every day. I know he loves his old man, though. That’s what gets me through. Maybe knowing that Takeshi loves you will help you get through his absence, too.

I miss you at the shop. You’ve been around and underfoot since Takeshi could walk. Things aren’t the same without you two getting in the way. I understand why you haven’t come to see me—but I hope that you’ll be able to forgive him. I hope you will be underfoot again when he comes home. I hope he finally gets himself together and asks you to marry him. He’s only been talking about it since you both were five.

He’s dense. You know I adore the boy, but, again, that’s the way things are. It might be up to you. Either way, it’s this old man’s wish that he will one day call you his daughter.

You are welcome here any time. Takeshi doesn’t have to be there. You’re old enough now that we can crack open the sake and eat fatty tuna, on the house. Maybe we can talk about how much we want him to come back. The invitation is always open.

Best wishes,

Tsuyoshi Yamamoto

Takeshi’s eyes slid shut as they came to end of the letter. So his dad had known. Nothing much ever escaped him. If only Takeshi had got himself together in time. If only his old man had got his dying wish.

“He never sent it,” you croaked, breaking into Takeshi’s mournful thoughts and sounding even more miserable than he felt.

“He probably never got the chance,” Takeshi said. “I’m sure it’s not because of anything you did.”

“I should have come to see him.”

“It’s not your fault he died. Or that you didn’t get the letter. Or that neither of us gave him what he really wanted.”

For a long time, he watched the fire, until his eyes grew sightless and all that he could think of was how much life he had still left to live without his father’s guidance. Then it hit him: there was still time left to give Tsuyoshi what he’d always wanted.

“We still could do that last one, though,” Takeshi mused aloud.

You paused in rubbing the tears from your cheeks to shoot him a sharp sort of look. “What?”

“There’s still time to fulfill his dream,” he said slowly. He slid onto the ground to kneel in front of you. “[Name], will you—”

Every speck of color drained from your face as you lurched into a standing position. “You better not be about to propose to me, Takeshi, or I swear I’ll—I’ll…I don’t know what I’ll do, but neither of us will like it!”

Takeshi hesitated before he let out an embarrassed chuckle. “No. I haven’t got a ring, do I? Besides, you’re mad at me.”

“Damn right I am.”

He awkwardly stood up and went to sit again next to the fireplace. “What I was going to say was…would you stay the night with me?” At the look on your face, he quickly added, “not like that! I just…” scratching his cheek in characteristic thought, he peered up at you, “I miss my best friend. Maybe you don’t love me anymore. That’s okay. But you still love Dad, right?”

For a moment, you were quiet. Then: “Yeah. He was a good man.”

“Right. And by the sound of this, it’d break his heart to know we won’t even talk to each other anymore. So stay the night. Help me go through his stuff. Let’s see if there’s anything left of…us.”

A longer moment passed. Takeshi’s heart pounded. What he would do if you refused, he didn’t know. He could not keep you there against your will.

His worry was for naught. You sat next to him, embarrassment evident even in the low firelight, and said, “One night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I miss my best friend, too.”

Takeshi beamed.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you said, and tipped your cheek onto his shoulder.

“You know,” he said, “maybe we a don’t have to sell the place. We could keep it. Reopen the shop.”

“I don’t know how we’re gonna do that. You’re always busy with whatever Tsuna’s up to, and I’m not exactly housewife material. We don’t even know if we’re going to wind up together like that. You'd have to run the place all alone."

“True. Guess I don’t have all the answers.”

You settled your chin onto his shoulder to regard him wordlessly. A second later, you had kissed him softly on the lips. “You don’t have to. Now shut up so I can keep being angry with you.”

It took all his strength not to grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

A smile almost graced your lips as you turned away. You did not, however, leave his side.

Warm by the fire, Takeshi listened to the blizzard blowing outside where it could not touch him. For the time being, he felt like nothing could. He was grateful for the fire, grateful for your company, and most of all grateful for his pop looking out for him even from beyond the grave. Something new stirred inside him—something he wished his father could see. But it was because of Tsuyoshi that Takeshi could feel it himself:

No matter how cold life got, there was always hope, always warmth to be found. No matter how lonely Takeshi felt, he would always have you.

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ravensilversea · 2 years

Note

hi, "Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better" and that lal/nana/nello wip for the wip game pls!

Ah yes, the rarepairweek ideas that never came to be for 500

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

Firstly, I love this title because it is an extremely accurate description to what’s going down in this fic, and it’s also a reference to Annie Get Your Gun because I’m a nerd. Secondly, it was originally sparked by last year’s Enemies to Lovers prompt, but it’s really more of a Rivals to Lovers. Thirdly, the reason(s) why it wasn’t written in time for last year’s rarepairweek is because 1) I was and continue to be a hot mess who can’t figure out this whole write everyday thing and 2) I was getting the vibe it was going to be Longer Than Anticipated.

Scrivener Notes: “Verde/Viper; ever see a scientist try to outdo an illusionist?“

Snippet:

Verde looks at them. “You have been quiet,” he says and pushes his glasses up his nose. “What is your opinion on my invention, Viper?” Viper grinds their teeth together. “Impressive, for a mere invention,” they say. The half-smile drops from Verde’s face, and they allow a slow grin of glee to stretch across their own. “But you have a long way to go before you could even dream of replacing me.” “I highly doubt that. Anything you can do, I can invent something to do the same, if not better.”

Lal/Nana/Colonello

Congratulations! It’s a Daily Double! I actually have TWO plotbunnies for this pairing.

Plotbunny 1: The first one was sparked by KHRween2021, which I ended up writing absolutely nothing for because I was both knee-deep in a semester and also preparing to move. It was for the Haunted House prompt, and honestly the point where I just resigned myself to finding new and shiny rarepair to ship every prompt event.

Scrivener Notes: Nana/Colonello/Lal going through a haunted house together? Colonello's the scaredy-cat who keeps clinging to his girlfriends' arms, Nana starts out a bit spooked, and Lal is 100% shaking in her boots but is too cool to admit it

Commentary: I just lowkey need Nana to end up being the one comforting/consoling/“Of course you weren’t scared”-ing these two badass special ops soldiers by the end of a haunted house. Mainly because I think it’s kinda funny.

Plotbunny 2: Holy cow there’s actually 250 words written here! I forgot about that! This one is a multi-chapter plotbunny idea, not sparked by rarepairweek directly.

The Details (No Actual Notes): Pre-canon, some kind of Adult Arcobaleno AU. Tsuna’s still a small child. I think I decided Iemitsu just straight up dies and no one knows to tell Nana, so she gets super disillusioned by the fact Iemitsu just starts really ghosting her (no visits, no calls, no money, etc).

Somehow Lal and/or Colonello cross paths with Nana and Tsuna. And we have a delightful little slowburn where they all end up raising Tsuna together. I don’t think I intended for it to go all the way up to the start of canon, and if I did, I don’t now. The vibes here are accidental life partner and baby acquisition.

Snippet:

The day Iemitsu was due to come home again came and went. Nana tried not to worry too much about it- she hadn’t even told Tsuna about his father’s upcoming visit because Iemitsu rarely ever follows through, and it’s kinder to let it be a surprise than a disappointment. But, normally he would call her and make his excuses sometime when it was dark outside and dinner long cold or breakfast not yet made.

The days pass by like they normally do. She cooks, cleans, shops, and takes Tsuna on excursions in an attempt to find him friends. Tsuna goes to school with a bright orange backpack and a matching bento, his smile getting smaller and shakier with every passing day. He comes home and mumbles his way through telling her about his day.

Iemitsu still doesn’t call.

The air grows colder. Nana takes Tsuna to TakeSushi for his birthday where he smiles shyly up at Tsuyoshi and waves at Takeshi-kun, who’s doing his homework under the careful eye of his mother at a table in the corner. The day Iemitsu’s deposit is due in her bank account comes and goes.

#raven answers #hopeswriting #wip tag game #long post #khr #ngl i saw you asked for the lal/nana/nello wip and went 'ah yes hope would like that one wouldn't she' lol #gosh i need to sit down and work on these #they spark joy

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sorugao-bandgeek · 3 years

Text

AN: I will never have a proper layout for this. like yikes bruh.

KHR Fireman AU. Chapter 1 of 2.

Adult!Yamamoto x Reader

XXX

You couldn’t stop pacing.

It had gotten to the point you had left your apartment and headed to the shop, in hopes of putting your nervous energy into something productive.

You had thought that the cool night air and the walk would help, but it had not. You could smell the fire, could see it just over the tall eastern mountain, the distant yellow flames slowly making itself over the mountain.

You forced yourself to look away and instead of heading to the shop, you found your way to Takesushi. The backdoor was unlocked and you weren’t surprised to find yourself on the end of a knife, Tsuyoshi looking tired as he dropped his arm.

“I’ve told you to knock,” the man sighed wearily, setting the knife on the table.

“Sorry, I just,” you threw up your hands, unable to find a decent excuse as to why you couldn’t knock. It had been a long while now since you last knocked, usually just finding your way into Tsuyoshi’s home.

“It’s 3am,” he murmured after the long pause, gesturing for you to sit down. “You should be sleeping.”

“I’ve been trying,” you said, taking a seat, leg bouncing as you drummed your fingers on the table top. “It’s….”

“Hard, I know,” he finished for you, taking in your anxious ticks. He debated with himself and with another sigh he stood up, putting water to heat up and taking out a few tea packets. “On hard nights, these help me.”

“I’ve tried everything,” you had your face in your hands, so you couldn’t see what he was doing. Your palms dug into your eyes, white little dots appearing in your vision, “Gosh, it’s been a week.”

“It has,” Tsuyoshi agreed, flipping the cap onto the sprout of the kettle so it would whistle when it was ready. “It’s not his first long fire fight.”

And it won’t be his last.

Tsuyoshi looked over you, watching you shake your head, before bringing your hands down and blinking blearily. While it may not be his son’s first wild fire, it was yours. There was nothing he could say that would alleviate your fears, or concerns.

It had been that way when he first went through this and it would be how he felt every time Yamamoto went out to deal with whatever emergency there was to deal with. He didn’t wish for you to see him in a hospital bed, like he had years ago, but that was the possibility of this job.

The kettle whistled, a high and loud pitched thing that he immediately shut off. He waited a minute for it to cool before pouring the water into the cups, moving to set one in front of you, “Drink it, it’ll calm your nerves at least.”

There had already been a report that two firefighters had died, a few others injured and that wasn’t counting the civilians who had failed to evacuate and the loss of whatever the fire consumed. So far his son’s name wasn’t one of them, he had yet to receive the call and he prayed he wouldn’t.

“Drink,” he repeated, tapping beside your cup.

A shaky hand reached, fingers tapping along the handle before grabbing it and raising it up. For a moment he was amused at the way you wrinkled your nose at the taste, eyes darting around his cabinets.

“The honey is in the third cabinet on the left,” he answered your unasked question and you got up with a quiet thanks to his directions.

You were seated back, a spoon in hand, honey in the other and you measured how much you wanted. Dipping the spoon in the hot water, you watched the honey melt away, spoon clinking against the ceramic cup.

“I’ve never felt like this,” you murmured, the clinking ceasing and the burn in your eyes stinging even worse than before. “I’m scared.”

He felt a knot in his throat, soothing it a way with a sip of his tea, “It’s okay.” He reached out to cover your free hand, “I’m scared too.”

Your tears fell, teeth grit almost painfully as you nodded your head. You let out a shaky breath as you raised your cup up, blowing at the steam that rose before taking a sip.

Sweet and smooth, a hint of something you couldn’t name.

Maybe it was the saltiness of the tears that fell inside.

“I just hope he’s okay.”

“….me too.”

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #hitman reborn #yamamoto takeshi #i am sad so lets do this

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mademoiselle-swan · 3 years

Text

The Mad Hatter’s Workshop | First ever version of Mad Hatter

Hope you like this little sneak peek into the creative process that went into Mad Hatter. This is the first ever draft I made if Mad Hatter :D

*•*

His name was Mad Hatter, and he was odd. Like, living up to his namesake kind of odd. He even had the look to go with it : dark hair that stuck up in every possible direction, shocking green eyes glinting with no little insanity. He even wore a ratty patched up top hat that talked.

No one knew where he came from, and his past was even more mysterious.

All they knew is that he wandered into the Varia one day and killed Ottavio, becoming the Cloud Officer.

He never left.

—

A lot of things about him were downright weird, and that was according to the Varia standards.

For one, Mad Hatter was immune to pretty much every poison in existence. They’d found out about it when Opal from the Cloud division decided to poison her Officer. The man had calmly sipped half the cup without dying within fifteen minutes, before he forced the other Cloud into drinking the rest. He then made her beg for the antidote while she died a long and painful death and after he finally gave it to her, he proceeded to inform all of them that he was immune to all poisons, and that they would have to try harder than that to get rid of him.

Another thing about him was that he had nightmares. Horrible nightmares that only happened when someone had lived through Hell and while their body had survived, their mind hadn’t.

His screams echoed through the whole mansion on the bad nights.

And someone tried to wake him up, well... they paid the price. The price being a bullet in the head and instant death.

—

He was the one to rescue Xanxus. With his magic and invisibility cloak, the rescue mission went without a hitch, and he was the one to provide potions to Lussuria to help the Varia Boss’ recovery.

They bonded soon after Xanxus woke up.

A year later they were on a date, in Namimori (Bel had suggested the restaurant, Takesushi) when they stumbled upon a small boy crying on a swing in a empty playground. They were worried of course (yes, even Xanxus, no matter how hard he tried to deny it), it was late, too late for a five year old child to be out and about.

A week later they were on their way back to Italy, two little boys in tow. Harry had raged when he discovered the seal on the poor boy’s Flames, Dumbledore had tried to do the same to his magic and his core and Flames still bore scars from the old man’s attempts to control and leash him.

His Flames being unsealed, Tsuna had unconsciously bonded with the son of the retired assassin and now sushi chef, the infamous Autumn Rain.

The man had reluctantly let them take his son along with the promise of regular visits. Separating an element from his newly acquired Sky was simply not done.

Tsuna’s mother, an airhead woman that made Harry’s protective streak towards children seethe at the fact that she was shamelessly neglecting her child, easily signed Tsuna’s guardianship over to them.

That day, Sawada Tsuna became Tsuna Potter, and was raised by them with the help of the Varia.

Mukuro came along later, found covered in cuts and bruises and cowering in a small cage when Mad Hatter raided the Estraneo Base and singlehandedly destroyed them. He became Mukuro Potter a week later, bonding with Tsuna in the same lapse of time it took to finalise the adoption process.

He became Mammon’s apprentice and later joined the Varia.

*•*

There you have it! Makes me nostalgic! This was written almost a year ago at this point!

Is this something you’d like to see more of?

Chapter 29 about halfway done, I think. Prepare yourself for a deep dive into magical organized crime lore and get ready to fasten your seatbelts as you explore the mysteries of Blackshore Island and its infamous international black market!

-Miss_Swan

Check out Mad Hatter on Ao3!

#harry potter ao3 #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter crossover #katekyou hitman reborn fanfiction #katekyo hitman reborn crossover #varia khr #cloudy sky #female harry potter #xanxus/harry potter #xanxus #mukuro rokudo #sawada tsunayoshi #takeshi yamamoto #harry potter katekyo hitman reborn crossover

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luki-fanfic · 4 years

Link

Aizawa tries to add 2 + 2 and somehow ends up with 27.

And the UA staff finally confront the inhabitant's of Takesushi with what they know.

---

Warning, this chapter ends on a cliffhanger. A BIG one. So if you don't like cliffies, maybe don't read until the next update.

#out of this world #Katekyo Hitman Reborn fanfiction #khr x bnha #fanfiction #fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfiction #crossover

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random-fandom-scenarios · 4 years

Note

Heey!

Can i ask for a scenario about when Takeshi met his s/o on a trip back to Japan? Like he has some days off and decides to go visit his father and realise Tsuyoshi hired a girl he didn t know of, to be a sushi chief. (I ve heard there isn t many women as sushi chief cuz japanese see this job as a men thing ^^' but i guess Tsuyoshi is sooo nice and caring that he could give a girl her chance)

Thanks and sorry for all the details ahah hope you ll be inspired!

“Hello, welcome to TakeSushi,” a cheerful voice rang out as Yamamoto opened the door to his father’s shop.

Looking around, he spotted a pretty young woman behind the sushi bar preparing a plate for one of the tables. “H-hello,” Yamamoto responded, confused. “Is the owner around?”

“We’re not interested in anything your selling, sorry,” the woman smiled apologetically as she brought the platter over to the table of customers.

“Not a salesman,” Yamamoto laughed, “he’s my dad.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “No, he went down to the markets, the fisherman came in earlier today and he wanted to get more fish for tomorrow.”

“I spoke with him not even a week ago, he didn’t mention he hired someone for the shop,” Yamamoto said, dropping his bookbag on the ground as he took a seat at the bar. “He even lets you behind the bar,” Yamamoto laughed. “He never let me back there by myself.”

“Boss did mention he had a son he tried teaching,” the woman said. “Said that he wasn’t very good at it though, ‘didn’t appreciate the art’, I think is how he phrased it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something he’d say,” Yamamoto chuckled.

“Can I make you anything?”

“The house special,” Yamamoto said. “So how long have you been working here?”

“Almost three months,” she said, grabbing the ingredients. Yamamoto watched her prepare the sushi almost as deftly as his father.

“You must have worked elsewhere before, you’re good at this.”

“My father was a sushi chef as well so he taught me what he knew but this is the first place that was willing to hire me. Not a lot of female sushi chefs out there.”

Yamamoto put his phone down. He had been about to text his dad that he as home but why rush him, not when he could spend the time talking to you. Grabbing a pair of chopsticks, Yamamoto took the plate from you.

#katekyo hitman reborn #katekyo hitman reborn scenario #khr #khr scenario #yamamoto

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dearcat1 · 4 years

Note

Hey, so I had this funny little thought of what would happen if Xanxus and Tsuna met the first time for at the ring battle, tried to scope out the competition with flame-voodoo of some flavour, saw how scarred each other’s flames/souls were from their seals and went; fuck this noise. And like. Bonded or something, to just about everyone’s horror. Seen how well you write Xanxus and Tsuna and thought you could do something good with that

Anon, you evil mastermind. You absolute genius. You’ve given me ideas.

Tsuna can feel it, better and better the closer they get to the school. He can feel them, flames with a flavour so achingly familiar to his own, tinged with as much fear as his but with far more bravado, far more anger. His intuition keeps screaming in his head, hard enough that he’s having a hard time walking straight.

It leaves him defenceless to the other’s probing and that is what it is. In a distant part of his awareness, Tsuna knows what it is that the owner of those flames is trying to do. They’re trying to figure out the strengths of Tsuna’s sky, the weaknesses. They’re sizing him up.

But Tsuna, guided by instinct and intuition, cradles those scarred flames in a protective hug, carefully shielding them from the fraying seal on Tsuna’s forehead. Those flames are stubborn, though. As soon as they realize that Tsuna is trying to keep them away from something, they double down.

Bending over in pain, Tsuna gasps for breath but keeps the storm-tinted sky away from the seal with as much determination as he can muster. There’s chaos all around them but Tsuna ignores it, intent hyper-focused on their interaction. Soon enough, though, those flames come close enough to identify what they’re trying to poke at and then, they recoil.

When Tsuna finally manages to open his eyes, it’s to look directly at a red-eyed glare directed his way.

“They sealed you,” the dark-haired man accuses, torn between anger and violence.

Reborn lowers the edge of his hat, the slant of his mouth turned down in a grimace. The blonde man at the edges of both of their groups makes a chocked sound but doesn’t move. Tsuna registers who he is and dismisses him just as quickly. “I don’t know. Maybe. What did they do to you?”

There’s no need to clarify further, not when Tsuna’s flames are trying to soothe the scarred edges of the older man’s sky. Not when the storm-tinted sky surrounds his own in something that feels like reluctant sympathy. The beginnings of protectiveness.

“They froze me.”

Tsuna takes that in, looks at the scars on the other sky’s body and nods to himself. “Xanxus, right?” With a look at Takeshi, Tsuna licks his lips. “Do you like sushi?”

Xanxus snorts, unimpressed and just as angry as before but when he starts walking, he gestures for Tsuna to follow. They both ignore the chaos, the exclamations from behind them. Whatever this is, it’s more important than the ring battle.

“I don’t want to be a mafia boss,” Tsuna whispers to Xanxus as soon as they sit down at Takesushi. “But Reborn keeps telling me that I don’t have a choice.”

The assassin closes his eyes, slumping in his seat and finishes his cup of sake in one big gulp. “You don’t but we can make the best of it.”

“We?” And it’s tentative because the flames surrounding him feel like they could be a safety net if they wanted to but do they?

Storm-sky flames flare before they settle back down. “Yes, we. Don’t make me repeat myself to you, trash. You’re Don Vongola now.”

Tsuna closes his eyes in something that feels a little bit like grieve, “Vongola Nono?” But Xanxus doesn’t answer and Tsuna nods to himself. “I’ll arrange the funeral.”

It seems to be the right answer. Xanxus rearranges himself, arm coming up to pull Tsuna until the younger sky is nestled to his side, warm and protected. “We’ll figure it out together, baby boss.”

And Tsuna breathes, reciprocates the cosy protective embrace of those storm-sky flames with his own and allows himself to offer just as much in return. Neither of them mentions just how hard they’re clinging to each other. “Iemitsu?”

“We’ll get rid of him later.”

#fanfiction #anon #khr #xanxus #sawada tsunayoshi #ask

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hopeswriting · 4 years

Text

FANDOM: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

EVENT: Flufftober 2020

PROMPT: Baking Making Sushi Together

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting

RATING: G

PAIRING: Mukuro & Yamamoto

SUMMARY:

Yamamoto keeps bringing food to the Kokuyo gang. Until he can make him stop, Mukuro wants to work at TakeSushi so they're even. He comes to the shop for his interview.

WORDS: 1965

"Ah come on in, come on in." Yamamoto guides Mukuro into the shop with a hand on his back, closes the door behind them. "Dad, Mukuro's here."

“Welcome in, welcome in,” Tsuyoshi greets from the kitchen. “Please make yourself at home, I’ll be right there.”

"You're closed?" Mukuro asks.

"Yeah, because we need to do your interview, right?” He spins on his feet to wink at him, and rounds the counter to disappear in the kitchen.

"Wouldn't it be more insightful for you with the clients there?"

"Nah-uh, no can do. We need to know first you’ll be a competent employee before we can let you interact with the clients. We’re a high esteemed shop after all."

Mukuro didn't move from his spot when Yamamoto comes back, and his eyes zero on the cloth in his hand. Yamamoto rolls it up into a ball and throws it his way.

Mukuro lets it fall at his feet.

They raise one eyebrow at the same time.

"I’ll be on cleaning duty?”

“We’re all on cleaning duty. We open the shop and close it together. And so,” Yamamoto makes a grand gesture towards the tables, with all the empty dishes still on it. He grins, “this is all just for you.”

Mukuro smiles wider, but the gleam in his eyes tells another story. He nudges at the cloth with a decidedly displeased look on his face.

“Hey come on,” Yamamoto chides, “it needs to stay clean so you can use it. And also,” he grins wider, waves the other piece of cloth he brought with him, “apron mandatory.”

Mukuro walks past the cloth, Mist flames surrounding his hand.

“No weapon allowed.”

“And yet, there it is.” He tucks his trident just under his chin, its pointy end cold against his skin.

“And it’s still not allowed,” Yamamoto shots back in a sing-song voice. “Do you want the job or not?”

“Do I?” The trident presses against his skin, but it has yet to actually stab him so Yamamoto takes it as a yes.

“Alright then, let me—“

Mukuro snatches the apron from his hands. His trident disappears in Mist flames, and Yamamoto swallows back a laugh while he puts the apron on with too much entirely unnecessary dignity.

“Lads?” Tsuyoshi steps out the kitchen, drying his hands with a piece of cloth. “Is everything alright? Just so you know, I do not like how your flames feel right now, and I like even less having my shop damaged.”

Yamamoto laughs. “You mean his flames, right? You better get used to it dad, because it’s his default mode.”

“I will stab you to death, you Irritating Rain.”

“See?” Yamamoto reaches blindly in his back and gives him a little shove. Mukuro shoves him back but with a flames enhanced hand, and he braces himself on the counter to not have his nose or teeth smashed. “See?”

Mukuro shoves him again for good measure before rounding the counter. He offers his hand to his father.

“Good evening sir, I’m Rokudo Mukuro.”

Tsuyoshi shares a knowing look with his son but knows better than to laugh with him. He shakes Mukuro’s hand. “Good evening to you, please call me Tsuyoshi. I heard you’re looking for a job?”

“I absolutely do not,” Mukuro says, and stays unfazed faced to Tsuyoshi’s questioning look. “But your son over here keeps bringing us food entirely out of his own volition, and I have yet to find a way to stop him.”

“Ah yes, he’s quite tough at hide-and-seek isn’t he? Always have been.”

“For now.” Mukuro glances at him, the threat clear in his eyes. Yamamoto makes a V sign.

“You’re trying to show your gratitude then? How admirable of you.”

“I want to clear a debt, sir. Nothing else, nothing more.”

“A debt, uh?” Tsuyoshi laughs. “I must say, you’re exactly as my son told me.”

Yamamoto perks up at the opportunity his father just gave him, all but too ready to double-down on the statement. Flickers of Mist flames come to life and he rolls over the counter, landing on all fours at his father’s feet.

He jumps to his feet his guard up, facing the dining area but Mukuro didn’t actually move from his spot. Yamamoto concedes the win without a fuss despite the smug smirk on his face.

Tsuyoshi coughs, a grin playing on his lips. “Alright lads, I must go take care of tonight’s deliveries. I trust both of you will behave, won’t you?”

“Sure dad, don’t worry about a thing. You take care out there.”

Tsuyoshi ruffles his hair before disappearing back in the kitchen. They face each other, Mukuro’s arms crossed on his chest.

“What now?”

“Well, we need to clear out the tables first and wipes them out. The chairs too, sometimes they can need a little cleanup so give them a look. We’ll wipe out the floor next and do the dishes, and then we can see how good of a cook you can be. Sounds good?”

Mukuro gives him the silent treatment, but spins on his feet to presumably get to work. Yamamoto follows behind, at a safe distance.

“What about some music? I can put it on my phone.”

Mukuro takes exactly two more steps. He whips around, but Yamamoto already took the picture.

Yamamoyo makes a run for it.

“No weapons allowed!” he screams while ducking under the trident, but at least Mukuro calls it back to him before it can sink in the wall.

Yamamoto keeps the chase short for the sake of the shop, even if he doesn’t fail to notice how Mukuro doesn’t damage it at all in his fiery quest to save his pride.

He makes a show of struggling and begging and bargaining when Mukuro get his hands on him. His phone is pried from his hand, and Mukuro stands in all his victory, a foot on his chest.

“I’ll crush it at the first shadow of any suspicious behavior.”

“Aww man, you’re such a Killjoy Mist.” Yamamoto wipes the dust of his clothes, a pout on his lips. He already sent the picture to Hibari and deleted the message.

Hopefully Hibari will come lurking and take some more pictures.

They get to work after that, wipes the tables and the floor, do the dishes with little to no commotion.

“I think we’re set?” Yamamoto takes in the row of ingredients on the table he gathered from all over the kitchen.

“You ask me?” Mukuro deadpans, from where he’s slumped in his chair.

“We’re going to make sushi rolls. It’s really easy so don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t.” He stands, eyeing the ingredients. “What am I to do?”

“Just follow my lead. You’re a visual learner, right? I thought if you tried to replicate what I do as I go along, you’d learn even faster.”

The silence falls in the kitchen. Yamamoto’s smiles diminishes the slightest bit, and he tries to read Mukuro’s suddenly serious face.

Surely it’s not something he said? He likes to think he became quite good at not ticking him off unintentionally.

Mukuro lets out his peculiar laugh of his, and he relaxes. “You two-faced Rain. When did you even notice that? Or should I ask how?”

“Thanks,” Yamamoto chirps.

“I do not like it.”

“Aww don’t worry, I’m all too happy to leave all the deceit to you. Here—” he splits the ingredients in between them “—the sushi rice is already done, so let’s start with the cucumber.”

Mukuro mimics his movement perfectly, cuts both end of the cucumber and starts peeling it. And in his defense he gives Yamamoto’s uncharacteristic silence almost ten whole seconds.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“This knife may not be my favored weapon, but it is still a weapon Yamamoto Takeshi.”

Yamamoto laughs, holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, let’s not use full names. It’s just, you know, all that.” He gestures vaguely at the table. “You don’t have to do that. I’m just being a good friend.”

Mukuro sticks his nose up in the air. “We’re not friends. You’re a nuisance in my life that I want out of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, but can you blame me? You guys don’t even have a proper functioning kitchen.”

“What’s next?”

“And you’re living in ruins. Cut it like that, along its length.”

“Mind your own business.”

“And now that you have a kid—“

“Fran is not my kid.”

“—you can’t just keep living like that. Ah careful, you need to remove the seeds first.”

Mukuro clicks his tongue. “Maybe if someone wasn’t distracting me with meaningless blabber.”

“Are any of you actually looking for another place to live?”

Yamamoto catches the raw tuna before it slaps him on the face. He puts it back on Mukuro’s plate like nothing.

“Nope, not like that. We need to cut it in thin slices and make long stripes with it. See, like that.”

Mukuro points his knife at him, entirely not looking. “You Nosy Rain, you will stay out of my business.”

“What about renovating the building then?”

Yamamoto looks up at Mukuro’s laugh, raises his eyebrow at the mischief in his eyes.

“Are you suggesting we rob a bank? Because that’ll certainly anger one Skylark I know.” He laughs some more, his mind definitely made up already, and Yamamoto spares a thought for the poor Namimori bank he just doomed.

“You didn’t hear it from me.”

“Oh yes I did. Now if only you could say interesting things more often.”

“No I didn’t,” he defends himself only halfheartedly, and fully resigned already. He spares a prayer for himself for when Hibari’s wrath will descend upon him. “You just put words into my mouth.”

The expression on Mukuro’s face tells him he’s not listening, and he huffs. They finish with the tuna, and Yamamoto places the bamboo mat on the table, puts the nori sheet on it and goes looking for the sushi rice.

“Fine, but I’ll still come visiting. And bring food with me.”

“You’re not visiting, you’re breaking in.”

“Thanks to whose failings?”

Yamamoto ducks under the knife’s swing, and does his best to not burst out laughing.

“Want to say that again?”

“Nope, I’m good. Here, looks at this sushi of peace I made.” He waves it under his nose, and draws back when Mukuro glances at it. “The knife first.” Mukuro narrows his eyes, but for all they say Yamamoto knows the whole of the Kokuyo gang loves their sushi. Case in point, he gets back the knife.

Mukuro takes his sweet time to do his own sushi roll. He presents it to him, perfect in every way, and it’s only then he notices the Mist flames around it.

“Come on, really? You Mediocre Mist. Really? Since when?” Mukuro puts on his best, fake, innocent smile, tilting his head. “Did you even do anything?”

He pushes the plate closer to him. “Go ahead, try it. I believe you’ll find I’m perfect for the job.”

Yamammoto eyes the sushi roll, spins the plate around. “What’s inside? What does it really look like? I’m not eating it.”

“No?” Mukuro says, in that tone that really means I didn’t know you a coward, Yamamoto Takeshi. Please do not ever interact with me because I have standards for the people I want to be a pain in the ass with.

Yamamoto takes a bite out of the sushi. Something moves inside his mouth, and for all he knows it’s fake he can’t fight against his instinctive response.

He does make sure to aim for Mukuro’s face when he spits out the sushi.

The kitchen does not make it unscathed.

BONUS:

Hibari does come lurking and take pictures. It doesn’t stay a secret for long at all because they spread them like wildfire to the others, and no one is even trying to not tease Mukuro with the pictures, least of all Hibari.

Mukuro gets the job (he was always gonna get it) and keeps it. The rest of Kokuyo gang immediately starts looking for one too because like hell they’re gonna let Mukuro provide for them all on his own.

Eventually they move out from the abandoned center park to a proper house because they buy themselves more and more comfort with their salaries, and, you know, people generally want to not live in ruins if they can help it.

They get a big, nice, secluded house with multiple entrances (and more importantly exits), with multiples rooms and big windows, and with multiple hiding places and room to run away (or fight). I don’t know how realistic this is but with their backgrounds I don’t think they’d settle for anything else.

(This was all part of Takeshi’s plan but they don’t need to ever know that.)

------

Takeshi keeps visiting and bringing food even then, and is the first one among the Guardians to turn one of the guest rooms into Takeshi’s room.

Mukuro keeps working at TakeSushi at least until they dive into the mafia business for good (which I headcanon happens at some point after they’re all finished high school).

He doesn’t get to interact with the clients because he can’t play nice for shit with them. Always uses his flames so he can say “well, technically I didn’t do anything”.

He always manages to make himself a server when Hibari comes eating in the shop though. Only so he can poison his food and get on his nerves of course.

------

The Kokuyo gang does rob a Namimori bank, almost. Like, they go through every step of robbing a bank except actually leaving with the money. After all it’s just to prove a point and make one Skylark angry. No civilians are harmed.

They do steal one banknote of 1000 yen as a token and, again, to anger one Skylark.

Takeshi gets dragged in the ensuing fight because Mukuro snitches on him, and also he was trying to not have them fight in the first place and failed.

Tsuna gets dragged in the fight too because “Dame-Tsuna, as their Sky it’s your duty to mediate the quarrels between your Guardians”, or something. So of course Gokudera jumps head first into the fight too.

Ryohei follows because he doesn’t want to miss on the fun, and so does Lambo.

Chrome sides with Lambo because, you know, he’s five years old, and 1) she does trust no one is going to hurt him but also they’re all getting loose at the moment and Lambo is reckless, 2) she thinks Tsuna deserves to not worry about Lambo and relieves his stress on his shitheads, battle maniacs, trouble magnets, disregarding-the-consequences Guardians to his heart content.

It turns into a free for all and they all have great fun, and it’s a great bonding time moment for them all, or whatever Reborn says.

And that’s all I have for this AU for the moment except for the fact we don’t talk enough---or at all--- about how Takeshi, Hibari and Mukuro would be such an absolute disaster, chaotic and unrepentant of a trio (and also would balance each other nicely too, really).

Thank you for reading! Any and all review are appreciated ^^.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr fanfic #flufftober 2020 #baking together #yamamoto takeshi #rokudo mukuro #yamamoto & mukuro

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