The explosion was loud and jarring. It sent both guardians stumbling to get down and avoid getting hit by any lose bit of debris, as bricks and pieces of tin rained about them.

Before he had regained his bearings from the harsh onslaught the rain guardian was pulling him hastily to his feet - and not to gently either. Gokudera, however, was not one to complain as he let Yamamoto practically drag him to a safer place.

"The rest of the Family," he croaked, voice coming as a harsh rasp, "are they safe?"

"They're all fine. You managed to get everyone out in time."

At least he hadn't almost died for nothing. Everyone was safe. No one else was going to die, not today at least. Then again, maybe that was speaking to soon. After all they weren't quite in what you would call a safe place yet. Not with the loud gunfire he was hearing and what appeared to be more explosions.

Yamamoto pulled him aside and into another warehouse. "I think we should be okay in here," he said quietly. He forcefully pushed Gokudera down until he was sitting on the cold concrete below. "I'm going to go check the place out, you stay here. Please, Hayato, just do as I say for once."

The explosives expert couldn't deny the pleading tone in the other's voice, couldn't ignore the worried look in his eye. Gokudera couldn't imagine how he must look to the other right now. Like he'd just walked through hell and survived probably.

Silver gleamed in the light as Yamamoto withdrew his sword. His movements were graceful and cautions as he darted around looking for any signs of trouble. From in here the sounds from outside were muffled, the explosions quiet. It was hard to tell what was happening.

Green eyes followed Yamamoto's ever move waiting for trouble to come to the swordsman. Unable to help himself he opened on of his box weapons the familiar weight wrapping itself around his arm.

The next thing he knew he was shouting a warning out to Yamamoto just seconds before the quick secession of bullets lodged itself into the swordsman's chest. The next moment the shooter was dead, slaughtered by Gokudera and his Flame Arrow.

Quickly he was at Yamamoto's side. Copious amounts of blood were slipping to the floor from the open wounds, slicking the floor in a ghastly black. "Takeshi!" he yelled not caring as his already tattered clothing began to soak up the pooling blood.

"Hayato," he said, smiling lightly. He winced when Gokudera tried to open his shirt to try and evaluate the damage, the fabric sticking to his chest. Gokudera resisted a wince himself. It was bad, really bad.

As fast as he could he pulled his own jacket off and pressed it to the wounds trying to make the blood stop. At this rate he would be dead within minutes. "Hey!" he snapped angrily when Yamamoto tried to shut his eyes. "Don't do that to me! Medical help with be here soon!"

He hoped that was true. Why had he been so stupid to throw his communicator away at a time like this! Dammit! "I'm tired, Hayato," Yamamoto told him quietly shutting his eyes again and releasing a few labored breaths.

"No!" Gokudera snarled, panic leaking into his voice. Slowly Yamamoto looked at him again, expression tired and just a little bit pained. "You have to stay awake okay. You're going to be okay."

'Sometimes what we want doesn't always matter.' His own words came back to him hauntingly.