Title - Tenacity
Author -
makesteRating - PG-13 for language~
Characters/Pairings - 8059 gen
Warnings/Notes - ...Nothing, really? Crit is readily accepted, though; I'm not completely sure about this one.
Summary - If he decides that something is important, he’ll fight with everything he has to win and protect it.
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It would be a lie to say that Yamamoto Takeshi never gives up at anything, because… well, because it isn’t true. He gives up on plenty of things-or more precisely, he knows when to give up. He isn’t the type of guy who sweats it if he loses at something that isn’t important. And Yamamoto has a very specific definition of importance, a very clear line that divides the significant from the inconsequential in his world. True, that definition has seen some fine tuning recently-his priorities have shifted, thanks to Tsuna-but his attitude is the same as it has ever been, and will always be. In that way he is a true Guardian of Rain: steady, ever-flowing, and unchanging.
So it can’t really be said that Yamamoto doesn’t know how to back down. What is true, however, is that if and when he decides that something is important, then he’ll fight with everything he has to win and protect it.
Much to Gokudera’s dismay.
Because, as much as the Guardian of Storm would like to object, in the black and white of Yamamoto’s mind he is, quite against his will, firmly rooted on the side that matters. The inflexible side, to make matters worse. The side that doesn’t let him be and never takes no for an answer (if he even bothers to ask in the first place).
And while it would be a lie to say that Gokudera Hayato ever gives up on anything-at least voluntarily-Yamamoto is one of the few people capable of matching wills with him, and winning.
So when Gokudera tells him, “Fuck off, baseball freak,” Yamamoto laughs (“Ha ha, good morning to you too, Gokudera!”) and drapes an arm around his shoulders.
And when Gokudera insists that he isn’t hungry and wouldn’t want to eat the idiot’s stupid sushi even if he was, Yamamoto just slides the plate in front of him as if he hasn’t heard a thing.
And when Gokudera once again relegates him to Tsuna’s shoulder blade (“You moron, don’t think a guy like you could ever become the right hand!”), Yamamoto just grins and says, “Ha ha, we’ll see!”
The other boy meets him head-on every time, but it’s not as if Yamamoto doesn’t know how to be patient. After all, with nine innings divided into two halves each, baseball is a game that tends to take its time.
It can’t be said that the way Yamamoto values things always makes perfect sense. Sometimes he jumps from buildings because of broken arms, and sometimes he offers his friendship unconditionally to those that run from it and scoff at it and resist it at every turn.
But that’s just the way he is. When baseball was his life, it was always all or nothing. Now his friends are the most important thing, and of course, nothing has changed.
So when Gokudera gets in his face, Yamamoto pats his shoulder and tells him to relax. When Bianchi makes surprise appearances, Yamamoto sits with his friend until the incapacitating childhood trauma wears off. He takes the brunt when Gokudera needs to vent, and pushes when Gokudera needs to be pushed. He watches his back when they’re both in over their heads, and trains to get stronger when that isn’t enough.
And it would be easy to watch, and simply assume that Yamamoto does it because he’s the type of person who puts that kind of effort into everything. But that is not the case.
He does it because Gokudera is important.