31_days | May 18 (Katekyo Hitman Reborn) Simplicity

Title: Simplicity
Day/Theme: May 18 // In the night sky
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Character/Pairing: Yamamoto
A/N: I kind of like this (I've been reading Ondaatje again, thus the style). Only...I wish I had a better way to transition from 'doubt' to 'assurance'.
Summary: He fears this dependance, this unfailing trust, on them.
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Yamamoto stares at the stars, the glowing balls shining overhead. If he had a bat long enough, he'd hit them all out of there, clear the midnight cloth, knock the moon out of the stadium.

As it is, there is barely enough light to see as he stands in the empty field, the metal fences glinting around him. Scuffing the ground--he knows this dirt, this sand well, the smell of it cloaking him like a second skin, the feel of it imprinted in his mind. It belongs to him, in the same way he belongs to it, and this is his home. He scrapes it with his shoe, the sound just one of a million he has heard before, and lets the cool breeze rake his hair before he starts.

Stance is important, his father told him. It gives him strength, balance, the ability to dodge and survive. (And yet, when his father told him that, he almost yawned--in baseball stance is everything. This is a lesson he has learned well.)

Feet slightly apart, knees bent, fingers gripping the hilt. The sword is in front of him, a separate entity, and--

This feels wrong. The long blade, the cool metal, the sharp edge, all of it feels distinct and alien. Like a foreign body. It's supposed to be an extension of him, his arms reaching out further than before, hitting things they normally can't. It's supposed swing and sway with him, a part of his soul. It's supposed to be like his bat.

He tries again, moving slowly as he turns first right, then left.

It doesn't work.

(And of course it doesn't, because then it will become him, another Yamamoto floating in the world, adrift. It will hurt him if it fails, like that moment when baseball was everything. It became the air he greedily drank, the blood running through his veins, the colour of his world.

It was everything that meant anything and then--

And then came Tsuna and Reborn and Gokudera and the rest of the family.

The fear grows once more, because they are slowly filling in the bases of his mind, covering every position just as surely as baseball did. A dependance is growing and maybe one day he won't be able to survive without them, a craving growing steadily as the days flash by.

This fear, this monster that paces within his chest, it screams at that, because maybe one day he might die for them, die with them, lose track of all the other things that make his world.

Maybe one day he will cease to be Yamamoto and just be.)

The clouds cover the moon now, grey quilts blocking the light, and he can't see. It's easier that way, the shadows play tricks on him, scurrying about like mice. The sword flashes, slicing them, without another thought.

Without a thought, just a response, just an unconcious decision.

He smiles at that. It's simple when he puts it like that. Who is he, if not one who sees the simplicity of a situation?

The moon shines once more and he returns to the stance.

Simple, no need to over complicate anything. He doesn't know what he's doing, but then again, none of them do. If he's going to wander anyways, company is bettter than flying solo.

He dances, fluidly, and pierces his doubts.

(Yamamoto stands at the edge once more, staring down from the roof. His eyes wide open, he steps off.

He trusts they'll catch his fall.)