One thing leads to another. When worse came to worst, well, we’ve all known that sanity is out of question in the first place.
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09 Aug 2010 Cập nhật:
12 Aug 2010
[Oneshot: Sanity is O.O.Q.] bởi Zhao™
Zhao™ | King Rô
TYL! 8059, TYL! 6918, 27K.
Humor, crack, epic
I don’t own KHR.
Mukuro-sama and Hibari-san belong to Amano and belong to each other. Same goes for Yamamoto-kun and Gokudera-kun.
I was supposed to finish an angsty story for Serin first, then again my plans seem to always go off-handed.
Mm hm, beware of crack scenes, and rated T for Gokudera’s street language.
Reviews, comments and criticisms are always welcome. Hope you enjoy it.
Namimori hospital, Japan.
Reborn and five guardians [Lambo had gone for an untimely mission] made a small group in the waiting area outside of Kyoko’s recovery room. After ten years, Tsuna and Ryohei’s sister had made some remarkable progress, which we may call ‘marriage’ and ‘live together’, and now an even more momentous step, ‘childbirth’.
Vongola Tenth had soon left the group to join his wife and newborn child since an hour ago, alone of course, that meant no right-hand man nor hitman tutor tagging along. Reborn was not that fond with babies, after years being one; and Gokudera was enticed to wait outside with his self-assigned task of preventing any possible issue when THE Vongola Famiglia gather with [almost] full attendance somewhere else but the headquarter, in other word, to keep the remaining guardians’ butts stay firmly on their seats. That’s fundamentally impossible, but the headstrong right-hand man just didn’t think so. Well, he didn’t.
So far everything could be considered good. Maybe affected by the peaceful silence inside said recovery room, out here, the air seemed pretty … breath-able. It was odd, since you know what tremendous aura could emit whenever a certain horny [plus delusional] illusionist and one supremely offensive ex-prefect encounter. Despite that fact, the Cloud Guardian had learned some ways to control his temper during all these years [or like what they said behind his back, be more mature], and the Mist had yet to make any slain-worthy move, except for charmingly smirked and beheld said skylark from head over heels as if he was one of the seven wonders.
Being a crowd-hater like he is, Hibari put on an appropriately long distance between him and the rest, silently cursed the blue-haired Italian. Why Hibari was even here is still a mystery, and everybody knows better then believe in Mukuro’s rants about them need to preview some necessary procedures, just in case later they have to return. Nonetheless, it’s not like the others wanted to unravel this mystery, so they decided to just let it off by absently nodded in false understanding.
Gokudera even felt sympathy toward the Cloud, for having to deal with a clingy illusionist bastard, and to be honest he wouldn’t surprised if later someone tells him that Hibari’s brain has severely traumatized.
Back to the situation at hand, the very reason why Gokudera could sympathize the ex-prefect was because he himself has the same problem with an equally clingy baseball idiot.
For instance, right now.
“Maa maa Gokudera, I’m bored, can we do something to spare time?”
Yamamoto turned to the silver-haired man, still maintaining that unchanged cheerful face, doesn’t look at all like a bored person –like the one he’s talking with. Gokudera grunted angrily, scowled at the overfriendly smile of said Japanese man.
“Don’t even think about playing baseball here. If you got nothing else to do, count your fingers.”
“I already counted to ten!”
“Then go with your toes.”
Not at all impressed with the fact that this swordman is empty-brained enough to even count his fingers [though that was only a shit out of boredom], Gokudera scoffed sarcastically and advised Yamamoto to count his hair next.
“If you want to play games, I have some suggestions.”
Mukuro poked in the conversation to provide a seemingly good-natured offer, much to the Storm’s disdain. He threw his cigarette in a nearby trash can and unpurposefully began the verbal war.
“All of your shitty suggestions are unconsiderable.”
“How can you know if you don’t listen to it?” Mukuro squinted his eyes, the sly smile never faded on his face for a single split second.
“Yeah right, let him talk, this guy is funny to the extreme!”
Ryohei chose that moment to join them and effortlessly shocked Gokudera, only Gokudera, with his short statement, or rather, his out-of-planet choice of words. Since Reborn, appeared to wear his ever indifferent expression all the time; then Hibari, simply because he has no concern for this matter about that particular illusionist; and Yamamoto just laughed and kind-heartedly agreed with the Sun Guardian [assumed they have a same utter high friendliness level].
“Well, I think you are the funny one.” Mukuro amusingly chuckled, his reply was accompanied by a mocking tone and clear mischieviousness. Old habits die hard.
“Hm, it’s not really a game though,” He tapped his long fingers elegantly on his lap like one pianist playing a symphony. “–the rules are quite simple, we take turns to state one thing in common between us, if you can’t, you’re out. This continues until one left, with me so far?”
“Oh please.” – The Storm indelicately snorted in disgust. – “Seriously? I don’t think you have anything in common with other people, you goddamned fucking excuse of human kind.”
“Ooh?” – Mukuro raised an eyebrow. – “Should I say sorry for being a goddamned fucking excuse of human kind?”
“As if you could! I doubt you even know how to spell ‘sorry’ without distorted its true meaning.”
“My my, you seem to have a bad habit of alienize me.”
“If you are the case, then everybody does.”
“Everybody—ooh really? I’m flattered.”
Regconized the visible irritation in Gokudera’s eyes, Mukuro merely laughed, turned all his attention to an impressively calm Cloud Guardian on the right edge of the couch [f.y.i., they sat on a same long couch and facing with other guardians].
“Kyouya dear, does it mean you too?”
Hibari grimaced, looked like he was awfully offended just by letting the Italian talk to him [that considered as dirtied his ears]. If here wasn’t a building in Namimori, he would sure as hell destroy it and the bla-bla-bla illusionist already.
“No.” Said Cloud curtly breathed out one simple word, then smugly added after thinking for several seconds. “I herbivorize you.”
“Oya? Pardon me, I’m afraid I was poorly praised this time.”
Surprisingly, Hibari allowed himself the luxurious permission to carry on this worthless conversation. “Does your brain suffer intellectual retardation or something?”
“Wao, that’s my little bird, “ Mukuro raised a thumb-up at Hibari, totally unawared with the darkened expression on said skylark’s face. “I must say you have a very rare sense of humor.”
Therefore he received a nice punch on the face, bonus with a tonfa plugged balancedly on top of his head.
“No kidding, Kyouya. What if you cracked my skull?”
“Then pineapple juice will find a way to pour out of your ears?”
“Ooh—” Mukuro giggled madly, hands wrapped around his aching stomach. ”Hibaricious! Now you can even crack jokes yourself.”
The Cloud Guardian wearily looked away, muttered something under his breath, something like “Can’t use human language with him.”
Gokudera just incredulously stared at them in maximum disbelief.
“I feel bad for humiliating humanity by classify you in it.” – Escorted with a full-fledged scowl and a heavy sigh. – “Whatever, count me out of that stupid little game of yours.”
The topic soon brought back to the game. Mukuro mercifully spared his fuming skylark, now turning to the highly confused Sun and Rain Guardian, snaps his fingers as if he had invented something awesome.
“Indeed it might be hard to find some similarities between me and the rest.” The illusionist chuckled. “Let’s change rules a bit, how about comparing our couples?”
“It requires too much thinking.” Ryohei admitted. “Besides, I don’t have a couple.”
“Hm, then one out.” – Mukuro clicked his tongue. – “So, what say you, Rain Guardian? I believe you can play this game very well.”
Smiling widely like he always does, the swordman scratches his chin. He was never a man of piercing puzzles together. “That sounds interesting, but I still don’t get a hold of this game.”
“Let me do an example and you shall thoroughly understand.” – Mukuro rested his head on one palm, the other hand still tapping rhythmly on his knee as he voicing the explanation. – “Let’s start with, our numbers are bigger than our partners’ numbers.”
The bomb user coughed. The tonfa wielder sneezed.
Yamamoto inwardly compared his number  with Gokudera’s number , then Mukuro’s number  with Hibari’s number  (why he even knows all this, ask the illusionist). That didn’t take him too long to draw out a conclusion.
“Indeed they are!”
“Very easy, isn’t it fun? Now is your turn, just follow my example and try to list anything you may know.”
Much to Gokudera’s disbelief and other’s surprise, Yamamoto was able to find a response, after such a short amount of time [for your record, 10 seconds].
“You’re on the right track.” The blue-haired man flicked his fingers playfully. “Correct.”
“Haha, I just recalled that Gokudera and you are Italians.”
“Didn’t you know that years ago?” The Storm shockingly stared at Yamamoto, who happily answered with a short idiotic laugh.
“Then it’s my turn again.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure that the Mist had prepared for this game already. “Our weapons are longer than theirs.”
To demonstrate his statement, Mukuro used illusions to created four finger-sized weapons and placed them in pair together on air.
“See, my trident – his tonfa, your sword – his bomb.”
“Amazing, I’ve never realized that.”
Not only Yamamoto, but Gokudera, Hibari and Ryohei all glued their eyes at the tiny things on mid-air.
“This is understandable, since even our weapons-in-bed are probably bigger then theirs, too.” A smutty smirk formed on the illusionist’s lips.
God must have forsaken Yamamoto when he let him agreed with Mukuro. Though that’s the truth. A should-be-covered truth.
Blood veins popped up recognizably on said shorter’s men’s faces. It was simply miraculous how they could even bear the whole thing from the start, maybe due to exhaustion from last night extracurricular activities, or early morning sensual practice. Just don’t guess that they’ve become magnanimous, because, no, they don’t.
Even so, someone said, you may tolerate one moron or a pervert, but you can’t tolerate one moron and a pervert.
“Fuck, FUCK! That’s it! I’m going green for Earth’s sake by eliminate these fucking shit!” Gokudera shot up from his seat, already lighted his strongest bombs and eager to shove them down said swordman’s throat.
Hibari supported the idea, but just the last part, he could careless about Earth, but very much concerned about his pride and dignity.
”Bite you to death.”
The game temporarily suspended for the next several minutes, as the illusionist and the swordman struggling to calm down their partners. Sure it was hard, but wasn’t impossible.
“Oya, that’s why you’re fun to tease.”
Mukuro managed to laugh between the consecutive head-knocks from Hibari, tried to keep the ever stubborn skylark –hands refrained– stable on his laps. His smile softened a bit when he wipes dry the salty sweats on Hibari’s face, one by one.
“That’s why I could never be bored.”
On the other side, Yamamoto has an easier job to just hug Gokudera from behind and held him back to his seat. That also means, a sitting-on-Yamamoto’s-lap position.
“He’s so cute when he hissing like an angry cat that fluffs up.” The swordman laughed, poking Gokudera’s cheeks to prove his point. And indeed, he received a crawl.
“That’s right, cats like to bare fangs, don’t they? Especially black cat, I’m holding one—ouch! Ow, Kyouya, don’t bite!”
It was negatively ridiculous how the Rain’s and Mist’s brainwaves are completely in sync when it comes to their –don’t say out loud– bottoms. Too ridiculous, that even drove these two reluctant spectators to the point of speechless.
But wait, hell is still way ahead. And it’s coming now.
“Your partners are badass–”
All widened eyes simultaneously shot at the world’s greatest hitman who had quietly leaned against the wall for a long while, ever since the start. No one, even Mukuro, anticipated such turn of an event. Arms crossed in a bossy manner, Reborn cocked his head to the side, continued his unfinished sentence.
“–-and you love it.”
A silence fell upon the whole area for several seconds, before Mukuro raises his voice again.
“I have to agree that he was badass,” –The illusionist defended thoughtfully.– “but his ass isn’t half bad. In fact, it’s breathtakingly sexy and tight when I—“
A loud ‘THWACK’ interrupted his sentence as Hibari furiously smashed his head on the wall and clenching his tonfa tighter, said spiked metallic weapon soaked in Mukuro’s fresh blood.
Gokudera silently, sincerely offers his gratitude toward the Cloud Guardian, since if any more word escapes the illusionist’s mouth, he will have to wash his ears and his brain afterward. Another reason, the silver-haired man found no damn need to dig any deeper into that issue, so he decided to just let it off, by purposefully tracking the conversation in some stupid fashion-talk like ‘How to preserve bangle and bracelet’, or ‘My silver buckle was just replated with gold’.
Then again, maybe God just loves to see people sufferring in mental pain.
“Hey, I’ve been concerned, what does badass mean?”
And why the hell does Ryohei have to address this question to Yamamoto while looking at him?
“Of course I know that badass is bad ass, but—how should I put it, this confused me. Last time octopus head called me ‘dumbass’, I spent a whole day to ponder about the word and realized that it doesn’t make any sense. How could one’s ass be dumb?”
“Enough, that’s more than enough to prove how brainless you are.” Gokudera replied flatly. A tsunami of mixed pessimistic emotions flooded over his neurons and suddenly he feels the very great urge to just swoon on the floor and play dead.
Reborn seemed rather enjoyed this stupidity show-off spectacle, so did Mukuro. However Hibari was utterly displeased with the fact that there is a shithead who has the very harmful capability to spread idiotic disease across Namimori.
Yamamoto rubbed his chin as he musing for the serious answer.
“I think ‘badass’ means your ass feels bad. Like, you know, after a sweaty training, your lower body probably ached and that puts you in a mad mood. So, uhm, those are angry because of their sore asses could be called ‘badass’?”
Okay, this is worse, there are two shitheads.
“I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this!”
Gokudera’s jaw almost dropped on the ground. He just can’t –even with his divine-gifted genius mind– explore how could the Rain Guardian be unexpectably and unnecessarily worked up at these inappropriate matters.
“Eh, but isn’t that right?–-”
“No, no, I don’t, I can’t, I’m UNABLE to give a DAMN!” – Gokudera waved his arms uncontrollably on air. – “Now STOP, zip it and let me go before I seriously decide to kill you kill you YOU fucking bastard!”
Someone will certainly be tranferred to the morgue at this rate, and that person would much likely be Yamamoto. But he naturally doesn’t –never be able to– realize any deadly threats coming from a particular bomb user. And it was hilarious how his brain functions, to even assumed that they’re still in good terms. On top of everything, Ryohei supported the Rain by sharing his rare knowledges about other families’ right-hand men and left-hand men’s vague relationships.
“—Then the two of them hand-in-hand disappeared behind an empty conference room’s door. Afterward I heard a string of weird noises and creaking sounds. Wasn’t that extremely resemble to your case?”
Gokudera looked like his brain cells have been burned to ashes. “No. Not at all. We don’t hold hands! And nobody ever asks you to tell that ludicrous–story—” He suddenly trailed off, his face decorating with a wonderful horrific expression that switched from red to blue to purple to white.
Oh my moe-moe angelic Uri ...
“By ‘resemble’—don’t tell me, it can’t possibly be that—you had eavesdropping on us?!”
“Eavesdropping? It’s your fault for screaming too loud.”
Gokudera thought his heartbeat could arrest any time. With Yamamoto simply ‘oops, haha’-ed.
If even Hibari looked mildly interested in that story, then Mukuro, very highly.
“Our co-workers dismissed almost immediately whenever they saw you two walked in a room, so the corridor was too silent that your pants and moans were vivid. Really guys, what special secret trainings did you do?”
“It seemed Yamamoto was stronger, since I heard you cried something kinda like No—I can’t—it hurts and stuffs.”
“Huh, but later you reversed the situation, didn’t you? You even confidently said More—more, faster, stronger to provoke him. Must be an extreme battle.”
“I shared this story with Tsuna and he agreed with me on the most parts, though his face looked extremely red for some reason.”
“Which part of STOP and ENOUGH that you can’t understand? I know you are dumb, but at least you ought to be able to digest Japanese for GOD’S SAKE, forget mine!”
Gokudera slammed his hands violently against the wall, ready for a brutal murder or two, then suddenly halts by a slow but painful realization.
“Wait, you said—with who?”
“Tsuna.” Ryohei repeats.
If one could be killed by eye contact, our Sun Guardian would surely died a million times already. The silver-haired looked like he was drowned in wrath and humiliation, as he reopened his mouth, his hoarse voice demonstrated a combination of strangle noises and choking sounds from deep down the throat.
“How dare you—?“
Yamamoto –being Gokudera’s personal restrainter– found this is the right time to step in and prevent an unevitable killing. Well actually, he just turned the target into himself.
“Eh, it’s alright, I already told Tsuna about our relationship.”
Gokudera again stopped, daring to look up at his nerves killer with a dangerous twisted expression.
“You know, ever since we started dating.” Still the that-should-be-okay tone.
“Ten years ago.”
Speechless, and motionless, Gokudera took his time to glare at Yamamoto. He didn’t speak a single word, for lack of better thing to say, just blankly glared at the overjoyful swordman.
“Maa maa ~ I knew that stepped my right foot off the bed firstly in the morning would bring good luck. It makes Gokudera look at me for so long.”
The Storm Guardian could clearly hear Mukuro’s chuckle and catches a glimpse of mock-pity smirk on Hibari’s curled lips. And Ryohei? Already rolled his ass off on the floor.
Even Reborn’s having a hard time fought against stomach ache due to refrain himself from laughing too much.
Gokudera averted his gaze away, now landing on the vast blue sky and submitting his question to whatever higher powers up there. A question like, Out of all people, why this idiot?
He stared at the sky for another good minute, then finally realizes that nobody will, either can, answer him. The silver-haired grudgingly face-palmed and falls back to his chair, mumbles something through grinded teeth which sounds more like responding to himself.
“I know, I know, why not him.”
And somehow [we still don’t know how sir Rain Guardian’s brain works yet], the whole dramatic scene failed to get the unabashably cheerful Yamamoto to regconize Gokudera’s despair, instead, it only deepened this already irresolvable misunderstanding. Catched a sight of the Storm Guardian looking up at him with burning green eyes and red face due to his intense anger, the swordman offers his widest smile [which later calculated to be the exact distance between his right and left ears] and beamed.
“Eh, so you finally decided to announce your love?”
That’s it. He’s had enough.
Gokudera horrendously outbursted.
“YAMAMOTO TAKESHI! I hereby FORBID you to be acquaintance with me!”
“Haha, no need to be shy, you know I love you too.”
“S-sir! No fireworks allowed! Ple-please!!”
“Too noisy, I will bite you all to death.”
“Kufufu, this looks fun, shall I help making it a magnificent uproar?”
“YAY! TO THE EXTREME!”
A series of ‘boom boom boom’ and ‘crash crash crash’ soon followed. And here come Reborn’s gunshots.
Inside the recovery room, just right before the door, Tsuna, although doing a wonderful job at mimicking a marble statue all this time, was dragged back to harsh reality by a worried call from his wife. Said wife, Sasagawa Kyoko, half-sitting on the bed while gently strokes the little head of their newborn child to lure him into sleep, questioningly looks up at her comically pale husband.
“Darling, why are you still standing there? Didn’t you want to invite everybody in?”
Slowly, and awkwardly turned to Kyoko –as if do it any quicker would break off the thin ward between him and the six catastrophes outside, Tsuna carefully retreats to the side of his other new family, the more human-like one that is.
“I think back, dear. Noises will affect your health”
Kyoko smiled her sweet smile, and thankfully she didn’t ask any more question.
“Oh Tsu-kun, you’re so nice.”
Partly, Kyoko-chan, I’m sorry. Tsuna guiltily thought.
Okay, let’s make it clear, he simply failed to see the necessity to go outside and meet the total six of his most terrible nightmares –Yamamoto included, since he has the best capacity to trigger a blow-able Storm Guardian. Then again, if these nightmares have legs –an awful fact that already proved to be true, then this is a whole different trouble.
“It’s not like they would crush the door and break in, right?”
The brunette whispering softly to comfort [or deceive] himself. Just right when he finished his sentence, an all too familiar voice abruptly raising from outside, much to his horror. Dear brother-in-law.
“Tsuna! When could we get in? It’s been hours! I’m eager to see my nephew!”
Tsuna mentally sealed his self-harmed mouth. Back then when his mother pulled him to the fortune teller, that woman didn’t say that he would be a prophet, nor anything about being a bad-luck foreteller.
“Stay right there lawnhead! I will be the first one to see Vongola Eleventh!”
“Oya, actually I saw it when it was still in that woman’s vagina.”
“You shut up Mukuro!”
Despite all the fuss outside, Kyoko still remains godly calm, as if her ears were selectively soundproofed with all things sort of peace-threatening. Tsuna could only feel proud and blessed for having his unbelievable wife. Mind you, she is Sasagawa’s sister after all.
Didn’t receive an immediate answer, Ryohei impatiently turned the doorknob, instead grinding it into malacic metal flour [you know his iron fists]. The Tenth watched with pure terror as Gokudera jumping inside first and starting holla molla dolla say aloha around in triumph. Next be brother Sasagawa, followed by a contented Yamamoto [even with bruises covered half his face]. Reborn dispassionately walked in after him, and last but not least, Chrome.
While everyone crowded around Tenth’s newborn baby, the eye-patched girl shyly stepped aside, informing Tsuna about why she’s here instead of the male illusionist. To summarize the story, Hibari got fed up and decided to go back home, Mukuro sticked along and summoned her to convey Tsuna a piece of his mind.
“Ah ah, so that’s it.”
For once did Tsuna appreciate the Cloud Guardian’s anti-social personality [the Tenth even claims that it’s a wonderful virtue afterward], as well as his inexplicable pineapple-magnetized charm. He shall make sure to give his thanks later, by providing an extended vacation or something involved extra paycheck.
“So, what did he want to tell me?”
“He said, I will possess your son.“
Tsuna nearly fainted as his knees already dropped to the supportive floor. What freaked him out most was the nonchalant tone that implied in her honey sweet voice, and there was even some trace of a tell tale evilish gleam in her only purple eye.
“Ano, Boss, are you alright?”
Chrome looked like she was snapped out from something. Yeah, something.
The Tenth somehow managed to stand up, though shakily, and nicely thanks her for being concerned about him. The short rare normal conversation was cut off by an infuriated Storm and one sheepish Rain. Honestly, obliviousness could be unconsciously harmful sometime. Most of the times.
“Don’t touch the Eleventh! Your idiocy will affect him!”
“Maa maa, you’re overprotective, Gokudera, you sound like a mother.”
“What moronic nonsenses are you rambling about?!”
And here they quarreling with a dangerously high possibility to drop his son [in the worst case, Gokudera might forget that he can’t throw bombs and holding a child simultaneously] on their feet.
Hopeless, Tsuna buried his face in both palms and crooning from the depth of despair.
“All I ever wished for was a tiny bit of sanity, just a tiny tiny tiny bit.”
“Even so, that’s way too high to ask from them, Boss.”
Chrome gently patted his shoulder and offered a condolence-like comfort.
“It’s fine, Boss, they will soon get bored and things will go back to place.”
Tsuna blinked once, then twice. Okay, now the boss doesn’t even have any power to wonder why he sees the female illusionist shining purely with wings and holy circle above her head. Though that encouragement is, unfortunately, too fictitious that it can’t even happen in his wildest dream.
“Wait, what’s the baby’s name?”
“We assume that Sawada Ieyotsu might do, since in the family tree there are Ieyatsu-san and Iemitsu-san, Tsu-kun thought we should follow the tradition. Does anybody have a better idea?”
“Let me think—he deserves an extremely cool name. How does WinnerKing Boxer sound?”
“That sounds hideous.” Gokudera frowned in annoyance. ”The Eleventh must have a royal name, one like Alexander da Louis Si Vongole XI !”
Yamamoto good-naturedly offers. “Sawada Tsundere? This needs to have Tsu in it, doesn’t this?”
Tsuna’s big brown eyes almost dropped out the eye holes.
Was it only his imagination, or it’s true that everyone has gone insane?
The first choice sounds more logical, but unfortunately, the latter seems more realistic.
Oh joyous hell.
Vongola Tenth Boss inwardly resisting the urge to cover his head with an elastic sock [like what those prisoners would use] once he exits the room with his wife, his newborn child and his chaotic guardians.
“Wait niichan, I’m sorry but you can’t carry the child with one hand. And no, he’s yet capable to practice boxing.”
“Don’t worry Kyoko, this little man looks tough! In the worst case, he would only received one punch or two at most.”
“You do know that would be fatal, don’t you?!”. Gokudera suspiciously asks.
“Huh, would it be?”
“Dammit! I won’t let you take the first score! The Eleventh should learn to use bombs before it!”
Okay, so he miserably lost in that mind battle.
Wearily, defeatedly, Tsuna turns to the female illusionist with an expectant look.
“Um, Chrome, could you create a sock?”
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Truyện con nít, bối cảnh Australia - England những năm đầu thế kỉ 20, viết bởi một người yêu Celtic music và fairy tales.