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He was lying down, pressed into the grass, a gun pressed against his stomach as his breath came in rapids huffs. The man above him was wounded, one hand pressing a gun to his stomach, the other holding his hand over a bleeding hole. Blood dripped off of him and onto Tsunayoshi’s shirt, dying the blue a dark black. The smell of iron permeated through the pores of his skin. His legs were on both sides of his waist, of his legs because they were just so, so long.
The man breathed raggedly as he closed his eyes for a second, opening them almost immediately afterward as his face pinched into pain. Usually someone would speak, whimper, offer money, but Tsunayoshi was just nine and so he stayed still, unmoving. The man stared at him, suspiciously, eyes the same shade of black as the charcoal that his mama hid in the back for when they went on a barbeque. He leaned closer, shifting as though to alleviate the pain, face coming close enough that two curls bounced off of Tsunayoshi’s cheeks.
“D-Do you need h-h-help?” Tsunayoshi finally offered, eying the wound that was still dripping blood. His shirt would stain, “I- um… um…” His eyes watered, still wide open.
The man sighed, muttering something in some foreign language he didn’t understand before sitting up, gun still traced on his skin. Tsunayoshi was allowed to get up. He slowly pushed himself onto his elbows as the man waited for him to sit up properly. His eyes were scrunched in distrust as he opened his mouth, only to shut it. Tsunayoshi waited, hands trembling.
“… Where do you live?”
“Uh-! Um, past the hill! Sir!”
The man snorted upon hearing ‘sir’. His yellow shirt was wrinkled, red droplets flickering. The sun was setting quickly. His suit fit him smoothly, even as he bled, it pressed against his skin like a second skin. Tsunayoshi stared at his bloodied hand.
“That’s too far,” He said, slowly, Japanese coming crooked and unfamiliar, “Somewhere closer.”
Tsunayoshi tried to think. There was an old abandoned warehouse, but there were gangs piled in there, all of which were filled with teenagers from the neighbouring school. They were all older than him and he didn’t think they would like it if he were to bring someone like the man in. The nearby hospital was likely a no, but they were also close – only two intersections away. A park was close, but there would definitely be people there, kids there. It was still only sunset. His mama would be worried soon. He pulled his sleeves.
“The hospital is probably a no, but it’s really close. There’s a park a little farther, and behind it is a warehouse, but it’s filled with teenagers from the neighbouring schools,” He said in a murmur, voice skipping over words so quickly, he wondered if the man could understand, “Sir.”
An afterthought.
“… Only kids?”
The hand holding the gun became lax.
“Um, they’re really big kids,” Tsunayoshi tried warning, “Like um, err, they have bats and stuff.”
He scoffed and slowly pulled himself up.
“Sir?!”
“Take me there,” He answered, “Cazzo. Give your shirt. Quickly.”
Tsunayoshi started on his shirt, but paused. A single scrawl over his wrist was on there. Fancy looping handwriting he couldn’t read and therefore dreamed about.
“What are you waiting for? Your shirt!”
He dragged it off, handing it to the man as he rubbed his mark. He suddenly felt thankful that his mama made him wear an extra layer underneath. A simple T-shirt. It didn’t hide his mark.
The man gazed at his wrist, before ignoring it. Tsunayoshi watched as he pressed his shirt against the wound, wincing again. He hoped it wasn’t fatal, even as he pushed him with the muzzle of his gun, forcing him forward. Something yellow glowed from his fingertips, but it was faint, weak.
Tsunayoshi walked forward, making sure to take the path through the small woods, as he stepped over branches and crushed dead leaves. They were just close to the edge of the road, but far enough that no one would see them as the sky darkened as it became inked in black. His mama would probably be calling for him now.
The man’s breath came in bated gasps as Tsunayoshi turned to him, eyebrows scrunched, but feet still moving. The light underneath his hand was much clearer, a brighter yellow as it illuminated his face.
“Face forward,” He ordered.
Tsunayoshi flipped to the front, biting his lower lip. He could find the warehouse in the dark.
“Sir, if you want to stay hidden, why not stay here?”
He didn’t answer. The park was getting closer. Tsunayoshi could see the swing set. He wondered if the man could as well. He pressed on forward, hoping the kids in the warehouse would leave before they reached there. He prayed that they would be gone. The man’s breath became fainter, either from weakness or strength. He wasn’t sure from which, but he stepped forward all the same.
The curves of the slide were visible as Tsunayoshi led him around the park. It was completely dark now, the only source of light being the man’s hand, the moon, and scattered house lights in the distance. Tsunayoshi could see the faint outline of a fire in the warehouse. He shifted nervously because that meant the teenagers were still there.
“Sir, I th-think the te-teenagers are still there.”
He felt cold. Cold and scared, but warm. Strangely warm.
The man didn’t answer, but pressed the gun a littler firmer into his back, as though to say to continue on. Tsunayoshi walked all the way to the warehouse, trembling as he heard the raucous laughter of delinquents as they shared illicit cigarettes over a flame.
The man pushed Tsunayoshi behind him, one hand gripped tightly as he squeezed, as though warning him not to run. He gave Tsunayoshi his bloodied sweater back, the material warm, wet, and so very sticky. It smelled terribly.
He entered, back straightening as though he wasn’t injured. He raised his gun and pointed it at the nearest kid.
“Get the fuck out.”
The words were so chilling that Tsunayoshi wondered if the man liked him. His words with him were soft, gentle, although jumbled. Much gentler than he was now.
The teenagers all stared, eyed wide as they scrambled up, stamping out their cigarettes from where they dropped them as they ran, turning to every dark hole that would hide them as they howled at each other to leave, to shut up, to go home, to cry, to fuck off, to run.
The man turned to Tsunayoshi; mouth cracked in half a smile. As though he was remembering something amusing.
“That’s what happens when you have a gun, moccioso.”
“Can I go home now, sir?”
The man stared at him and motioned for him to follow him instead. Tsunayoshi followed, shuffling his steps as the man sat down in front of the fading fire, back pressed against the wall.
“Your shirt is ruined,” The man started, pausing, “… I’ll give you my jacket. It has blood, but not as much as your shirt. It’s warm.”
Tsunayoshi nodded vigorously, as though he had any say. His hand was still rubbing the mark on his inner wrist, some form of comfort as he sat at the man’s stare. His gun was left beside him. The man slowly detached his suit jacket as he handed it over to Tsunayoshi, one arm extended. Tsunayoshi let go of the shirt, as it went back to the man’s wound. He took the jacket and put it on, sleeves extending past his wrist by miles as the man rolled his eyes and beckoned him closer with a single tap of his finger.
He squirmed closer, budging just a little closer, enough for the man to take the long sleeve and roll it up. He tried to shy away from the man when he stared at him for his other arm, but the narrowing of his eyes made him hand over his arm immediately. The man huffed a laugh and rolled up his sleeve.
He paused upon seeing his mark.
“Chaos,” He pronounced, almost bewildered as though it was the first time, he was hearing it himself.
“Cha… ou… su?” Tsunayoshi tried to say, “Chaousu?” He always wanted to know what it meant. He couldn’t bring himself to ask as the man kept his arm in his grasp, wound long forgotten.
Tsunayoshi couldn’t see his face from how he bent his back, pushing his face close to his wrist as his breath once again stuttered. The man looked up, face closed off, as he appeared almost bitter. Irritated. Bothered. He had a strange smile on his face, the one Tsunayoshi would find on Nana’s face whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.
A smile for how fate laughed at them.
“… Go to sleep,” The man began, “It’s too dark to go home. Alone. Kid. Those… adolescents are still around. Probably.”
He let go of Tsunayoshi’s arm as he stumbles back, eyes wider than before.
“A-are you cha-chaousu?”
The man watched him as he shivered again. The autumn was chilling. He sighed and pulled Tsunayoshi towards him, his back pressed against his wound as he winced. But the other was warm, obnoxiously so, as he pressed his face against the man’s arm. The man could feel the accelerated resealing of his wound and he shifted a little.
“Sleep. I’ll wake you up.”
He could feel Tsunayoshi’s drowsiness against him, anxiety tempered by their combined warmth and the other feel asleep, shoulders slipping against his as his suit jacket drowned his lithe body.
His gun turned back into a chameleon as a finger was raised to the man’s lips.
He took hold of a loose arm amongst light snoring and pressed the small hand against his cheek, turning his face to kiss it.
“Perdonami.”
~~~
“… Chaos,” Tsunayoshi said, a small smile gracing his face. The man was the same as back then, unageing and unchanging as he stared him. This time he had a hat, but his hat was in his hands, a formality when greeting the don of the Vongola, “This must be the second time we met.”
The man stared at him, eyes just a little wide before he smiled back, something small and something sweeter than the sharp smirk he had on before. Eyes a little bit sadder, as though he immediately placed all faults upon himself. His suit was unmarked this time and his hands were clean of blood. The weary look on his face was replaced with another wear, an older wear, but it was underneath a mask of pride. He didn’t bow like the others, didn’t lower his eyes; he didn’t need to.
“Regardless,” Tsunayoshi continued before he could speak, “It is a pleasure to meet you again.”