Disclaimer: Nakamura Arashi does not own Kateikyoushi Hitman Reborn!

Cheerfully humming, a certain brunet can be seen strolling down the peaceful streets of Namimori. It was a fair afternoon—the sun wasn't glaring too sharply, the wind wasn't blowing too wildly, and clouds littered across the sky. The teenage boy had just come out of school and was on his way home. A goofy smile found itself creeping its way on his face when his humming became full-blown singing as he thought of his home. He could finally let his guard down (if one could even call it 'guard'—it wasn't like he could actually do anything against his tormentors but run away, and the last time he had done something so stupid as to stand up against them, he can only wince at the memory) and blissfully enjoy the rest of the day.

He paused his singing and sighed, thinking back to the day's past events. That morning wasn't all too pleasing for him, as usual. (It really was not much of a surprise to him—he had lived through his middle school days like that anyway—but still.) He had received nothing but insults and beatings that morning, and although he kept on telling himself before to get used to it and to get over it, a small voice inside of him told him that it would be too sad if would get used to it. He had shrugged off the voice but stopped berating himself afterwards. It didn't mean that the bullying would stop to hurt though, since he had no one by his side except for his sweet mother and the people who had helped him when some injuries became too severe.

He had been a victim of bullying for as long as he could remember. Although he had been a pretty social kid when he was in kindergarten, he just kind of faded into the background midway through elementary. He had started to get noticed though afterwards—but for all the wrong reasons. His grades continued to plummet as his teachers looked down on him with disappointed expressions on their faces, and his physical abilities never improved due time. His classmates, on the other hand, made themselves feel better by picking on the brunet while refusing to help him improve in his studies and such. Eventually, he earned the title 'No-Good' and became the laughingstock of the school. This continued on till middle school and even up to high school. But the poor kid just wanted a break from it more than anything else.

'Honestly,' he thought, dragging the curve of his lips downwards, 'do people nowadays have nothing else better to do?'

He sighed once again, shrugged and perked himself up. "Oh well. As I thought, my high school life wouldn't be much different after all. Not much of a surprise there."

The boy started to hum again as he, quite literally, skipped his way home. This proved to be a bad thing to do though as he felt something neat his foot, and the next thing he knew, he was kissing the ground (in a way absolutely unbecoming of a high-schooler, the brunet thought with horror).

Embarrassed, he immediately stood up and brushed his clothes free of the dirt. He hastily grabbed his school bag that had landed with him on his nasty fall. Looking around at his surrounding with a frown accompanying the bright red flush on his cheeks, he hoped that no one had seen him trip and fall. However, when he had heard snickers around him, he quickly gave up the motion of him being unnoticeable, especially during his clumsy times. He looked down and glared (read: pouted) at the object of his (literal) downfall—a rock. How typical.

Closing his eyes and releasing himself of his frown, he sighed for the nth time that day, exasperated.

'Oh well,' he crookedly smiled to himself, trying to cheer up, 'at least I have Mom's cooking to look forward to!

Thinking of the food that his mother would cook him, his mind started to melt at the thought. His mother's cooking was the best in Namimori, hands down (rivalring Takesushi's, of course). Even his bullies would begrudgingly agree with him when it came to his mother's cooking. With his mouth watering at the thought of eating his mother's absolutely delectable cooking, he continued to skip towards his home, completely forgetting about his tripping incident.

That was until the boisterous beeping of an incoming truck startled him. It was really, really rare that noise would erupt in Namimori, with that scary Disciplinary Committee President biting people to death. The brunet remembered that he had been in his middle school for the longest time until the president was forced to move up to Nami High. So to say, the prefect wasn't very pleased with the change but nonetheless, accepted it. He now ruled over Nami High (or more appropriately, Namimori itself) with an iron fist. The brunet actually had a run-in with him once, and he had concluded that nothing in life (or death, for that matter) could be scarier than the prefect.

So, naturally, when the brunet heard the noise, he whipped his head towards the source, wincing at the pain in his neck afterwards. However, the pain was soon forgotten when his mind processed the sight in front of him.

There was a child, five years of age or so, with a large oblong-shaped head and braided hair who was wearing typical Chinese clothing crossing the road.

The road wherein the honking truck was on.

The brunet assumed that the kid couldn't either clearly see or hear the truck since she (or he?) wasn't reacting at all.

Now, Sawada Tsunayoshi was not the kind of person that would let harm come onto other people if he could help it, regardless if whether he knew them or not. He had had enough experiences with people who just looked and did nothing, which, in his opinion, is the same as hurting them, because why not help when you could? That would be the same thing as supporting the perpetrator. But then again, this was what his mother had been most afraid of—his hero complex.

All thoughts that ran through his head immediately flew as adrenaline rush consumed his entire being, making him run towards the child.

Meanwhile, the people were watching in horror as the child, seemingly unaware of the danger, was about to get run over. By the time they had noticed her, it had already been too late, and they were just waiting for the accident to happen.

But then, a flash of brown appeared ("He was too fast for my eyes," one would comment later, still in shock) and pushed her far from death's door.

Tsunayoshi smiled in relief as everything gradually faded into nothing.

From far away, a distinct figure observed the incident. A sly smile appeared on the person's face as he turned his back and walked away.

"Interesting."