Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn! does not belong to me.

Chapter 1

After they succeeded in uplifting the curse of the Arcobalenos, life slowly returned to normal for everyone. During their first week, most of them were still tense. They still found it hard to eat comfortably knowing that an enemy could strike at any given moment. They still found it hard to enjoy themselves in the society of others with the knowledge that just days ago, they were on the very verge of death. Maybe it wasn't death itself that scared them. Maybe it was the thought of it that consumed them—distracting them to the point that they grew restless, to the point that they were left wondering with no other thought, but its impending visit.

Haru, perhaps, was one of the most affected. And though she rarely showed it, her concern for her friends and even for her own well-being often left her musing in the late hours of the night. It had been like that since their return from the future. She highly doubted if the feeling would ever go away. She adapted very nicely though—smiling, laughing and talking to the others as if nothing was ever the matter.

Apparently, when you've done the same thing over and over again, regardless of how difficult it may seem at first, you'll eventually get used to it. You learn how to manipulate your emotions. You learn how to hide what you don't what others to know, and show what you think will be satisfactory to those around you.

But this newfound normality was something she no longer understood. Were they really safe? Was it really over? Had she stayed the same all throughout their misadventures, perhaps she wouldn't be even entertaining such questions. The old Haru would be contented in simply knowing everyone was safe and unharmed.

But the old Haru wasn't able to survive.

The old Haru was too vulnerable and too fragile. To expect that someone like her would be able to go through the hardships of the mafia world without breaking was no more but wishful thinking. She was not like Mrs. Sawada whose motherly love invoked her to smile and serve without question. She was not like Kyoko Sasagawa whose innocence beamed about in every way, and saw but the good of humanity.

She was Haru Miura. A person who aside from babysitting could offer nothing more but her tears as her friends bid her goodbye to engage in battle without any assurance of their return.

The old Haru vanished. Another Haru was molded from the necessity of having a stronger person for the family. Kyoko needed someone whom she could rely on. Her friend didn't need another pair of eyes to cry with, her friend needed a shoulder. Lambo and I-pin needed to be reminded that they were still children. Someone needed to treat them like kids or else they would drown in the sea of adults around them. Her role was of a small and measly kind, but she fulfilled it dutifully. By wearing the mask of the old happy-go-lucky Haru, she was able to make all those around her at ease. She took off the worry others had for her. It was the only way she knew to help.

So what happens when someone like her, someone who practiced the art of deception to the degree that no one would be able to distinguish what was true and what was not, faces the sudden and admittedly unexpected reality that everything is finally over?

Could she go back?

Could she lock the current Haru in darkest part of her being and return to what she once was?

To be sincerely happy and carefree, now that it seemed like there wouldn't be any further use of the character she strived to become these past few months?

She collapsed with the intangible weight that had fallen miraculously from the skies to her shoulders. She knew the answers would all be negative.

Mainly for the fact that what made the old Haru different from the present Haru was the innocence of the former. It was the bliss ignorance of the dangers they were facing that made that side of her despicable and tempting all at the same time. That innocence was replaced by an awareness—an awareness that made her capable to see what her former self could not.

Her friends were not saints and try as they might, they would never be. Perhaps, they didn't kill outright, but what happened after the battle? Would their adversaries magically heal from the fatal wounds her friends had inflicted? The guardians did not look back but she did. It was only thing she could see. The sufferings of their antagonists as they waited aimlessly for death. Personally, she thought it better to kill them if it was the price to save them from their agony.

But maybe it was Reborn's teaching that stopped them from delivering the final blow. They followed what they learned with the thought that they were being merciful as to not end their enemies' lives then and there. But Reborn—Reborn enjoyed slow kills. And whether some of the guardians had been influenced by this desire, she didn't know, and she didn't want to pay any more attention to it than she already had.

Change was the only thing constant in this world. She and the other guardians were mortal proofs of that. All of them had changed. Some were altered greater than the others. At times, she would think of Yamamoto whose nature had a significant change over the past week. He remained cheerful, distinctly happier than others. But there lied in his stance, in his gestures and smiles, the mark of a different person. He wasn't the only one—Ryohei was quieter. Hibari was acknowledging their presence. Even Tsuna wasn't exempted. Whenever he thinks he's alone with Reborn, he'll start talking about the family. His voice would take a serious tone. From him, Haru had never expected such an expression of severity and caution.

It was what she feared. Everyone was slowly embracing the near future.

Back then, she couldn't comprehend how everyone seemed so different from their future selves. But now that everyone was changing, she could distantly see how all the pieces would fit together to form the picture. It terrified her. The future Haru was defenseless. She was unassociated with the internal business of the mafia, and served as no more but an easy target for the enemies of the family.

Haru Miura didn't want to be a burden.

She didn't want to be dependent on the protection people offered her. But what could she do? In the end of the day, she was still just an average Japanese student.

Normality became foreign to her. She saw less of her friends. She lost sight of herself. School became an excuse. Midterm papers became alibis. She didn't expect that reverting back to her normal life would be this challenging. There were times when she'd even consider it impossible. For months she lived in the world of mafia. She learned to sleep to the sound of bullets. Her legs learned to run to where safety could be granted the moment she felt something was wrong. Now she was expected to return to her regular life, and act as if the past was as distant as the stars above. As much as she did like to take that advice, she was no longer sure how.

So how did she cope?

At first, she went by the same way as to how she coped after their return from the future timeline. She smiled, laughed and acted as if nothing was wrong. During the first week, it proved to be effective. During the second, she started to falter. During the third, she felt tired. And finally in the fourth, the mask broke and she was left shattered.

She ran away from her worries. She'd hide under blankets and inside cabinets. She'd lock the door to her room and sit down—just to ponder on the events of the past. She started to wonder on the possibilities, maybe if she hadn't associated herself with Tsuna, if she had listened from Lal Mirch's warnings from the start, had she let herself be driven away by Gokudera, then maybe she wouldn't be even going through this. She wouldn't have met such dangerous people. She wouldn't have gone to the future and back. She wouldn't have made herself vulnerable in a world of bullets and guns.

She'd cry at what had become of her. Her traumatized ears would wake her in the dead of the night. She'd hear faint sounds and whispers, but in the back of her mind she knew it was only her senses toying with her. She wanted it to stop. Once awake, she wouldn't be able to resume her sleep. She'd wait till dawn for something to come—anything that would rouse her and get her to move from her place.

Deadly resonances only meant two things for her, either to get up and go to where the others were or stay and be assured that you could now sleep peacefully through the night. The former would mean an ambush. The latter would mean the enemy was vanquished. She was so used to it that a part of her now longed for it as a requirement to rest. Her nights became longer and she dreaded each moment of mystery.

She made a nightly habit of anticipating dangers, but no trigger was ever pulled.