Chapter 1

I don't own Reborn. It belongs to Akira Amano. (duh)

Age one

I close my eyes as bright light shines into them. Is this heaven?

I decide that no, it's not when I open them to see a giant face. I yelp in surprise as I see another giant face but it comes out more like a gurgle. Both of them are staring at my eyes weirdly and it makes me uncomfortable so I close them again. I drift off into sleep.

Age two

I blink furiously as I stare at the door, my thoughts of exploring at a halt. Did I imagine that?

I take another hesitant step towards it and the voice speaks up again. 'Don't. It's dangerous.'

I freeze in shock. Apparently, that is enough of a reason for my father to worry. "What's wrong, Little Tuna-Fishie?" He asks as he picks me up. I shake my head furiously. I do not want to be put in a mental asylum, thank you very much.

Wait a minute.

I place a hand on my father's cheek. "Papa, not Tuna. Tsuna," I emphasize, an unconscious pout on my face.

Papa mirrors my pout. "But Tuna Fish," he whines. I narrow my eyes. "Tsuna," I say stubbornly.

Mama's amused voice is heard from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready," she says, leaning against a wall.

I immediately jump down from his arms and start toddling away. "Last one there is a rotten tomato!" I cheer in a childish, high pitched voice.

I hope that Papa at least has the decency to let a little kid win as I stagger towards Mama on my tiny feet. No, he doesn't, I decide when he shamelessly sprints to the kitchen. I reach well after him and pant as I glare at him.

Age three

I stare at the blindfold indecisively for almost a minute, having second thoughts about my plan. I almost give up and go home, but familiar wise words from Before echo in my brain.

YOLO.

I shove aside the irony as I put on the blindfold.

I relax my muscles before crouching slightly and count to three in my head before shooting off at full speed. Left, the Voice nudges and I turn a sharp corner. Left, it warns me again and I follow its directions. Righ- my face slams into something and I fall down. I rip off the blindfold, cursing, as I nurse my throbbing nose. I pick myself up and glare at the tree that I bumped into. I hear Nana's voice call my name from the other end of the park and I pick up the blindfold as I run in her direction.

Well, it's not like I have anything to do tomorrow.

The Voice screams at me as I duck into an alleyway, trying to map out Namimori. I slowly try to back away but a voice calls out. "Hey, isn't that the Young Lion's brat?"

I start to run, but the other person is faster. The Voice warns me to duck, but I'm too slow. The man grabs me by the scruff of my neck and I determinedly struggle to get out of his grasp. He ignores my attempts with ease as he shoves me forward, towards another man who is looking at me curiously. "Yeah, she is. Boss gave ord-"

I ignore their conversation as I take a deep breath. I scream as loud as I can, hoping it'll catch someone's attention. The man claps a hand over my mouth and I sink my teeth into it. The man curses, quickly letting go of me as he pulls out a gun and the last thing I see is a flash of orange before darkness consumes me.

My eyes open just a crack and I feel warm pillows and comforters around me. Papa immediately rushes to me. "Papa," I croak in a hoarse voice. He shushes me, stroking my hair gently. "What happened?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper. I clutch his hands desperately. "T-the Fire," I gasp for breath, "it protected me."

I see a dark-skinned man in my line of vision and immediately, my head starts to hurt as I see indigo flames. Mist flames, the Voice whispers.

Mist...

Flame?

I have the distinct feeling of forgetting something as I look at myself in the mirror. The Voice nags and tugs at me to do something, but I dismiss it.

[It sighs and starts slowly chipping away at the memory seal.]

Age four

"Again?" I raise an eyebrow, an unimpressed expression on my face as I look at Papa's frantically packed suitcase. He kneels to peck me on the cheek as he gives me an apologetic look. "Sorry Princess, Papa will try to come back as soon as possible."

[Lies, the Voice whispers.]

"Don't refer to yourself in third person," I order him.

He smiles amusedly. "Yes, your Highness," he indulges, mock-bowing.

"Papa!" I whine, cheeks red.

A click is heard and we both turn to Nana who has an amused glint in her eyes as she takes another picture.

She smiles as she gathers us all in a group hug. A car arrives to pick papa up just as we let go of each other. I stand near the doorway with mama, waving at the car until it disappears. We both go back inside the house and I stare at the empty couch. I tug on mama's dress. "Mama, why does the house feel so...empty?"

Mama smiles at me sadly but doesn't reply. I want to get that expression off her face so I propose something. "Mama, can you teach me how to cook?"

Mama is an amazing cook, right? Maybe I would be one too. I have her genes after all.

As we stare at our burning house, I conclude that no, cooking just isn't for me.

Age five

I tug on the edge of my dress impatiently as mama does my hair. I stare at our new apartment's wall, fascinated by its pastel blue color.

Mama pats my head. "All done," she says happily.

I climb off the chair and slip my hand through hers. Mama perks up as if remembering something. "Do you want to look at yourself in the mirror?" She asks me excitedly and I tilt my head in confusion before I realize that I have never seen my reflection in this life. I almost snort at the irony as mama leads me to a mirror. In my previous life, whenever I went to someplace other than home, I would check the mirror at least every ten minutes to make sure that my hair was perfect. It's nice not to care about your appearance and wear whatever you want without worrying about being judged.

"Look," mama nudges me. I blink in surprise at my reflection. I look surprisingly...cute. I wrinkle my nose at my too fluffy hair. My eyes meet my reflection's and the air is knocked out of my lungs. They are a bright, smoldering orange, flickering and shimmering like flames.

[Unnatural, it says.]

"You have very pretty eyes," mama tells me almost gently. My eyes meet her own and I give her a hesitant smile. She beams back in reply and I feel warmth curling in my chest.

I look at the other kids as I hear them whisper and mutter about my weird eyes. My fists clench but I keep my anger down by humming one of mama's tunes. I clear my throat to get their attention.

"My name is Sawada Tsunayoshi," I pronounce clearly, "and I hate you all."

Oops.

The teacher immediately looks horrified. The brats either look angered or heartbroken. I ignore them all as I stalk to my chosen seat. I slump down in my chair as the teacher starts to blabber about some inane thing. How much more of this must I survive through?

Twelve years, the Voice says, slightly amused. I groan and bury my face in my hands.

Age six

I stare up at Brat #1, slightly confused. Brat #2 and #3 block the doorway. The Voice was going haywire.

"You think you're so smart, don't you, Freaky-Tsuna?" He sneers.

I blink. "Um...no?"

"Don't lie! You always get good grades!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" I ask, slightly impatient.

He opens his mouth to start another tangent, but I've had enough.

I place my hand on his shoulder. "Look, Kitsumi-"

"It's Itsuo!" He exclaims, cheeks flushed due to embarrassment.

"Itsuo," I acquiesce, "just tell me what your problem is."

"You always hog all the teacher's attention with your perfect grades. I bet you cheat on all your tests 'cause I'm pretty sure no child of your mother could be smart. Your father probably left her 'cause she was so-" my flaming fist flies forward to meet his face with a resounding crack. He falls down on the floor, clutching his bleeding nose.

[I ignore the rush of memories]

"Don't you dare speak like that about my mother," I snarl.

White, hot rage bubbles in my gut. "At least my father's alive. Where's yours?" I laugh, but it is a harsh and cutting sound. He sobs from the pain and my words.

I turn around and stalk away, shouldering past the other two brats who look shocked.

I make a disgusted noise as I look at the blood covering my hand.

Have to do something about that.

I flex my hands, new leather gloves on, and flick the blood off them as another middle schooler goes down. Serves them right for trying to gang up on an elementary kid. The orange flame on my forehead extinguishes itself as I walk away.

I swing my legs on my chair as I lazily look at the principal through my lashes. Mama sits beside me, wearing a worried expression. Turns out the brat's mother found out.

"How could you let a feral child like that into your school? My poor baby was already a victim!" She squeals in her ridiculously high pitched voice.

Mama tries to placate her. "I'm sure she didn't mean to do that," she says in a soft voice.

"Of course she meant to do it! Look at my Itsuo-kun's face!"

I glance at it and am not all that surprised to see his nose heavily bandaged. I did use The Fire, after all.

The principal looks at me kindly. "Please apologize to Itsuo-kun, Tsuna-chan."

I really want to deliver another punch to the brat's face but one look at Mama's sad face has me folding like a wet paper towel. "Sorry," I force out through gritted teeth. He looks unbearably smug and it takes every little thing in me to stay still. I glare at him and feel satisfaction curling in my chest when he flinches.

I feel a plan forming in my head as Mama tucks me in for the night.

"Mama," her worried eyes flick to me, "can I learn a martial art?"

She hesitates and I pull out my amazingly effective weapon. My eyes become slightly teary as I widen them and tilt my head to the side. "Please?"

I sit on one of the stools in Adachi's Dojo: For All Martial Arts as I fill in the provided form. My hand hovers for a moment over a box before I determinedly write it down.

I turn in the form, taking one last glance at my chosen martial art.

Krav Maga.