#rainwill

　　 ◆ * “If you wanna start some shit, we can start some shit.” He’d already shoved the offending party against the nearest wall roughly, but he loosened his grip just enough to do it again, one arm keeping the man a head taller than him pinned in a flex that was purely intimidation tactics-- if Gokudera hadn’t had the element of surprise and a mean fuckin look on his face, it never would have worked. “Come on, you gonna wimp out now? These heavy ass rings of mine ain’t to keep my fingers pretty.”

To be fair, the other guy had started it, even if Gokudera’s whole ensemble usually had something to do with it. He couldn’t help that he screamed punk ass delinquent, nor did he really want to stop, especially since the people who caused problems were usually small fry bullshit like this dude. He’d been ready to shift to dynamite to really make his point clear (nothing to make a man piss himself like a stick of dynamite between his teeth) when his attention was pulled away by the sound of someone moving nearby-- just a glance for safety, but in that glance his heart stopped.

Holy shit. Fucking finally.

“...Cavalry’s here. You’re lucky, shitbag, if I see your face again I’m gonna fuck it up so bad you’ll forget what you looked like.” His tough guy act could seem over the top to some people, but frankly, the actual lifetime of mafia experience didn’t fuckin hurt, and it did the trick just right; when he let go of the troublemaker, he spat a curse and made a break for it. Gokudera watched him leave for a few seconds just to be safe, then finally turned to the source of his disruption-- a friendly fucking face.

“Holy shit, man, talk about a sight for sore eyes.” He clapped a hand on Yamamoto’s shoulder in greeting (make sure he was real) and grinned. “The fuck took you so long? I’ve been living it up this whole time without any nagging idiocy in my ear.”

The Cotes Ward was familiar. It was a place that looked so similar to Japan that it almost felt like he was back home. The cherry blossoms and the hustle and bustle of the streets was nostalgic, but even more so were the various smells coming from the food stalls. Cheap and cheerful, the owners never charged too much compared to the more expensive restaurants, and they were always happy when someone with a big appetite came along. Rin must have been their personal dream come true, though he only realized how odd he must look with given the sheer amount of lunchboxes and brown paper bags surrounding him from his place on a wooden bench when people started to stare.

Though, not all the stares were judgmental.

          Sixteen years of living and Giorno can say, with confidence, that he has never officially played any sort of sport besides those forced interactions at school. The physical exertion wasn’t the problem; rather, he had his sights set on different things that didn’t allow time to worry about making any sort of school team or any other issues common with those his age. He doesn’t mind—things have fallen into place for him after a time; it’s just strange now to be ripped away from it all. 

          That’s perhaps why he so easily agrees to play baseball with another person just to momentarily take his mind off of this entire mess. Giorno can’t remember when the last time he held a bat was, but the other teen looks friendly, genuinely so. There’s no real reason to turn him down, and Giorno is always willing to learn a new skill or two when he’s able. 

Welcome back!

Shoichi screams,  ungracefully & absolutely petrified. Which one was it ?  Byakuran, Licht, That Daemon freak or maybe that weird dude he supposedly dated in some other life time. ( or it could be another person he just so happen to pissed off cause apparently he’s good at that. )    

: / that doesn’t sound good, gokudera. your hair will grow even whiter.