Gokudera's voice had a penchant for reaching through every inch of the ship, which was valuable for someone acting as the quartermaster on the Vongola. So he was 100% sure that Yamamoto heard him from where he was leaning against the railing of the ship. And the bastard had the nerve to not even look at him? Gokudera bit back some of his temper, however. It was something he was working on. Right now, he had to focus on the more important things, so he settled right besides Yamamoto with one elbow on the railing and a finger in Yamamoto's face. "We need to talk about your shitty flirting habit."
"Mmhm," was the only response. Yamamoto continued not to look at him, instead staring pensively out into the sea. Longingly? Maybe they'd been landstuck for even longer than Gokudera thought if this idiot was so interested in getting back to open water. That didn't change the fact of the matter, which was that they had to deal with Yamamoto being so damn charming that he practically caused a scandal whenever they hit land. And he didn't have to try.
Gokudera didn't see the appeal in an empty headed idiot who smiled all the time. Or maybe he just aggressively refused to. If he did, that would almost be something like losing.
He forged on, determined to slam this through Yamamoto's thick head. "We're on the edge of mer territory. You paid attention when we were all talking about that, weren't you? So I am going to need you to not accidentally fuck any of them, purposefully fuck any of them, accidentally seduce any of them, or purposefully seduce any of them. Literally any of them, but especially anything poisonous. Got that?"
Yamamoto was still not moving. The meaning of this was slowly creeping onto Gokudera, and hammered right in when Yamamoto sort of laughed. "Ha ha. So, it might be a little late for that." He was still smiling.
Frozen from the sheer fucking impact of that, Gokudera slowly looked Yamamoto over. And then he swore. Violently.
It was a common misconception that mer had territories. Or, rather than a misconception, it was something more like an overgeneralization. After all, wasn't that similar to saying that all mer were exactly the same? That wasn't even physically true, with how some had the shimmering scales of rainbow colored fish while others held the smooth skin of dolphins and then even more others held the terrifying maws of a shark to match their sandpaper fins. To say all those were alike was kind of silly, to say the least.
Yamamoto had learned this knowledge a long time ago from his father, when he'd done trade with the shimmering golden koi mer who lived in the rivers near to their little fishing village, but he was fairly certain it was common knowledge among most navigators. Especially navigators who didn't exactly follow the law, honestly. Navigating the open seas was difficult as it was, and pirates couldn't exactly just buy sailing charts with any ease. However, for those who lived within the waters of the world, whether the open seas or the deep rivers... Yamamoto didn't know exactly how, but he knew that just about most mer had a good understanding of how to read the stars to get them to where they needed to go.
He'd be a liar if he said that he had never in his entire life inquired with a mer on where he was, honestly. Mostly when he was younger, ocean air still too thick of salt for his tongue and his head swimming every time he was on the deck of a ship. In more recent days, he liked to think he knew the ocean and the stars well enough to guide things on his own. However, no one ever asked where he had learned his skills. That Yamamoto had them at all was good enough for most people.
How could he forget those who had helped him so much, however?
Maybe it was just the cultural differences, too, but he had an easier time of dealing with mer than people of his own race sometimes. That probably would have been strange to hear, for most people who knew his name or face. How could he of all people have difficulty talking to or dealing with others? He was handsome, athletic, friendly, and a whole other bunch of positive adjectives. Yet as he grew up and his relationships never seemed to change, Yamamoto began to wonder if anyone was ever looking past that laundry list of good traits, and if anyone even wanted to. Would they be fine with how handsome he was if they knew he was more stubborn than anything? Would people accept his friendliness if they knew it was sometimes a veneer for mocking, or teasing?
Mer never gave him that feeling. Maybe because they were so detached from the regular life that he lived, he could see them as something different, even if they weren't actually that way. Yamamoto had that particular realization not too long after he first truly got to know Tsuna, when they were taking their first journey out onto open waters. It took him a little while longer to realize that it was okay if his view of things had been slightly different than the reality of the situation.
That couldn't change the feelings he'd had because of them. That couldn't change how important they had been to him for so long. So Yamamoto kept an eye out as him and Tsuna traveled across the seas, crew growing bit by bit. He watched the stars to guide them, and then he watched the ocean for hints of shapes that were his own connection to home. Maybe some mer had territory, but other mer? Other mer you could find everywhere.
Sometimes even where you didn't expect them to be.
The first time that he had seen the mer, he had been mildly intoxicated and it had been night time, so, for the first five minutes, he hadn't the single idea what he was even looking at.
The first time that he had seen the mer, he had been mildly intoxicated and it had been night time. That meant, for the first five minutes, Yamamoto hadn't even the faintest idea of what he was looking at. Five minutes before that, and he hadn't even realized there was anything to look at, honestly.
Instead, he'd been focused more on keeping his legs straight underneath him, an endeavor he'd ultimately given up on. Only a few feet from the docks where the Vongola was anchored at, and he'd slumped against a lamp post with his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. Being drunk sometimes felt not unlike being underwater. There was a peculiar sort of sluggishness in his brain, similar to trying to punch the ocean. Everything was similar while simultaneously new. Still. If there was one thing that the ocean had over being drunk, besides the benefit of not including intoxication along for the ride, it was that it at least had the decency to be cool.
Drunk to this extent, Yamamoto found that everything was just too damn warm. Even the pole seemed to carry leftover heat from the daytime, sticking to his skin in a way that left him feeling sickly. Wobbling slightly, he pushed himself up straight and forced his eyes open. Behind him, he could still hear the distant sounds of ruckus and laughter that spilled forth from the bar. The ocean before him seemed to absorb all of it silently and without complaint. That was a lie in its own way, too, he was pretty sure, much like it was a lie of his own when he did stupid shit like let someone buy him a drink despite his actual zero interest in alcohol. His problem, Yamamoto figured, was that he went with the energy too much sometimes. He got caught up. That wasn't always a bad thing, mind. Getting caught up in Tsuna's own issues is how he's ended up where he is: the happiest he'd ever been, with people he felt he could actually connect to properly, in a life where he tasted a challenge as much as salt when they were sailing.
But alcohol. Ugh.
A bottle was still in his hand, simply because it hadn't occurred to him to set it down on the way out. That left one hand free to drag down his face, pulling lightly at his lower eyelid. He was still looking out to the sea. Even as it took in all the light and sound of the port town, it was so very dark. Nothing penetrated past those deep waves beyond a surface level, the light stuck on the ever shimmering surface, a pale film of blues and greens and purples that hardly seemed tangible...
Wait. Yamamoto paused, blinking a few times before he narrowed his eyes into a squint. Lights weren't blue, green, or purple. Not normally, anyway. There weren't a lot of lights were lit in town, being dark as it was. The closest thing it had were a handful of streetlights, with not even most of them alight, including the one he was leaning against in that moment. Certainly, there were the pubs and inns and more night time friendly leisure businesses that were thriving, but those weren't near the docks where lots of people would first get a glimpse of the town. Those were deeper in, their brightness hidden away from the ocean. That left only the lonely moon drifting slowly past the stars.
Seamen had lots of superstitions about the moon, something Yamamoto had learned fairly quickly the more he began to hang out with them. The moon held influence over the sea, after all, and it was often part of how they could find their way when all else seemed endless on the water. When it changed to a pale silver or arrogant gold or wary red, well, everyone had something to say about that. Yamamoto had eaten it all up, fascinated with perfecting the job he'd chosen alongside Tsuna. That meant he knew that the colors he was seeing weren't anything like those he knew the moon was capable of giving off.
Most people would take that as a reason to back off, not wanting to mess with any of the many dangerous mysteries which the deep waters of the ocean held.
If Yamamoto had that kind of sense, he wouldn't have become a pirate.
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1
Gokudera's voice had a penchant for reaching through every inch of the ship, which was valuable for someone acting as the quartermaster on the Vongola. So he was 100% sure that Yamamoto heard him from where he was leaning against the railing of the ship. And the bastard had the nerve to not even look at him? Gokudera bit back some of his temper, however. It was something he was working on. Right now, he had to focus on the more important things, so he settled right besides Yamamoto with one elbow on the railing and a finger in Yamamoto's face. "We need to talk about your shitty flirting habit."
"Mmhm," was the only response. Yamamoto continued not to look at him, instead staring pensively out into the sea. Longingly? Maybe they'd been landstuck for even longer than Gokudera thought if this idiot was so interested in getting back to open water. That didn't change the fact of the matter, which was that they had to deal with Yamamoto being so damn charming that he practically caused a scandal whenever they hit land. And he didn't have to try.
Gokudera didn't see the appeal in an empty headed idiot who smiled all the time. Or maybe he just aggressively refused to. If he did, that would almost be something like losing.
He forged on, determined to slam this through Yamamoto's thick head. "We're on the edge of mer territory. You paid attention when we were all talking about that, weren't you? So I am going to need you to not accidentally fuck any of them, purposefully fuck any of them, accidentally seduce any of them, or purposefully seduce any of them. Literally any of them, but especially anything poisonous. Got that?"
Yamamoto was still not moving. The meaning of this was slowly creeping onto Gokudera, and hammered right in when Yamamoto sort of laughed. "Ha ha. So, it might be a little late for that." He was still smiling.
Frozen from the sheer fucking impact of that, Gokudera slowly looked Yamamoto over. And then he swore. Violently.
It was a common misconception that mer had territories. Or, rather than a misconception, it was something more like an overgeneralization. After all, wasn't that similar to saying that all mer were exactly the same? That wasn't even physically true, with how some had the shimmering scales of rainbow colored fish while others held the smooth skin of dolphins and then even more others held the terrifying maws of a shark to match their sandpaper fins. To say all those were alike was kind of silly, to say the least.
Yamamoto had learned this knowledge a long time ago from his father, when he'd done trade with the shimmering golden koi mer who lived in the rivers near to their little fishing village, but he was fairly certain it was common knowledge among most navigators. Especially navigators who didn't exactly follow the law, honestly. Navigating the open seas was difficult as it was, and pirates couldn't exactly just buy sailing charts with any ease. However, for those who lived within the waters of the world, whether the open seas or the deep rivers... Yamamoto didn't know exactly how, but he knew that just about most mer had a good understanding of how to read the stars to get them to where they needed to go.
He'd be a liar if he said that he had never in his entire life inquired with a mer on where he was, honestly. Mostly when he was younger, ocean air still too thick of salt for his tongue and his head swimming every time he was on the deck of a ship. In more recent days, he liked to think he knew the ocean and the stars well enough to guide things on his own. However, no one ever asked where he had learned his skills. That Yamamoto had them at all was good enough for most people.
How could he forget those who had helped him so much, however?
Maybe it was just the cultural differences, too, but he had an easier time of dealing with mer than people of his own race sometimes. That probably would have been strange to hear, for most people who knew his name or face. How could he of all people have difficulty talking to or dealing with others? He was handsome, athletic, friendly, and a whole other bunch of positive adjectives. Yet as he grew up and his relationships never seemed to change, Yamamoto began to wonder if anyone was ever looking past that laundry list of good traits, and if anyone even wanted to. Would they be fine with how handsome he was if they knew he was more stubborn than anything? Would people accept his friendliness if they knew it was sometimes a veneer for mocking, or teasing?
Mer never gave him that feeling. Maybe because they were so detached from the regular life that he lived, he could see them as something different, even if they weren't actually that way. Yamamoto had that particular realization not too long after he first truly got to know Tsuna, when they were taking their first journey out onto open waters. It took him a little while longer to realize that it was okay if his view of things had been slightly different than the reality of the situation.
That couldn't change the feelings he'd had because of them. That couldn't change how important they had been to him for so long. So Yamamoto kept an eye out as him and Tsuna traveled across the seas, crew growing bit by bit. He watched the stars to guide them, and then he watched the ocean for hints of shapes that were his own connection to home. Maybe some mer had territory, but other mer? Other mer you could find everywhere.
Sometimes even where you didn't expect them to be.
The first time that he had seen the mer, he had been mildly intoxicated and it had been night time, so, for the first five minutes, he hadn't the single idea what he was even looking at.
The first time that he had seen the mer, he had been mildly intoxicated and it had been night time. That meant, for the first five minutes, Yamamoto hadn't even the faintest idea of what he was looking at. Five minutes before that, and he hadn't even realized there was anything to look at, honestly.
Instead, he'd been focused more on keeping his legs straight underneath him, an endeavor he'd ultimately given up on. Only a few feet from the docks where the Vongola was anchored at, and he'd slumped against a lamp post with his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. Being drunk sometimes felt not unlike being underwater. There was a peculiar sort of sluggishness in his brain, similar to trying to punch the ocean. Everything was similar while simultaneously new. Still. If there was one thing that the ocean had over being drunk, besides the benefit of not including intoxication along for the ride, it was that it at least had the decency to be cool.
Drunk to this extent, Yamamoto found that everything was just too damn warm. Even the pole seemed to carry leftover heat from the daytime, sticking to his skin in a way that left him feeling sickly. Wobbling slightly, he pushed himself up straight and forced his eyes open. Behind him, he could still hear the distant sounds of ruckus and laughter that spilled forth from the bar. The ocean before him seemed to absorb all of it silently and without complaint. That was a lie in its own way, too, he was pretty sure, much like it was a lie of his own when he did stupid shit like let someone buy him a drink despite his actual zero interest in alcohol. His problem, Yamamoto figured, was that he went with the energy too much sometimes. He got caught up. That wasn't always a bad thing, mind. Getting caught up in Tsuna's own issues is how he's ended up where he is: the happiest he'd ever been, with people he felt he could actually connect to properly, in a life where he tasted a challenge as much as salt when they were sailing.
But alcohol. Ugh.
A bottle was still in his hand, simply because it hadn't occurred to him to set it down on the way out. That left one hand free to drag down his face, pulling lightly at his lower eyelid. He was still looking out to the sea. Even as it took in all the light and sound of the port town, it was so very dark. Nothing penetrated past those deep waves beyond a surface level, the light stuck on the ever shimmering surface, a pale film of blues and greens and purples that hardly seemed tangible...
Wait. Yamamoto paused, blinking a few times before he narrowed his eyes into a squint. Lights weren't blue, green, or purple. Not normally, anyway. There weren't a lot of lights were lit in town, being dark as it was. The closest thing it had were a handful of streetlights, with not even most of them alight, including the one he was leaning against in that moment. Certainly, there were the pubs and inns and more night time friendly leisure businesses that were thriving, but those weren't near the docks where lots of people would first get a glimpse of the town. Those were deeper in, their brightness hidden away from the ocean. That left only the lonely moon drifting slowly past the stars.
Seamen had lots of superstitions about the moon, something Yamamoto had learned fairly quickly the more he began to hang out with them. The moon held influence over the sea, after all, and it was often part of how they could find their way when all else seemed endless on the water. When it changed to a pale silver or arrogant gold or wary red, well, everyone had something to say about that. Yamamoto had eaten it all up, fascinated with perfecting the job he'd chosen alongside Tsuna. That meant he knew that the colors he was seeing weren't anything like those he knew the moon was capable of giving off.
Most people would take that as a reason to back off, not wanting to mess with any of the many dangerous mysteries which the deep waters of the ocean held.
If Yamamoto had that kind of sense, he wouldn't have become a pirate.