Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyō Hitman Reborn!

A/N: Thank-you to everyone who reviewed! =D I appreciate it a lot.

Chapter Two

Home Sour Home

There was no wall, but there was a girl—one eating pudding and humming to herself.

But alas, girls cannot substitute for walls.

Woe is me.

Finding an obstacle blocking your path while you're on the run is the worst case scenario. I can now relate to how those game characters in video games feel when they run into dead ends. And here I thought I had chosen a clear street, too.

"Make way, make way, make way!" I projected this emergency warning as soon as I saw her. I assumed my warning came through with enough time to spare. Sadly, this was an erroneous assumption.

She just gaped, frozen like a mouse in the middle of the road.

The sight of her eyes enlarging to the size of apples indicated that she was having difficulty adjusting to the urgent state of affairs.

I feverishly assembled what little air I had left for oral communication, hoping to issue another alert. Nevertheless, since we were both trying to talk at once, what should have been a simple command and question turned into some kind of verbal disruption contest where we took turns interrupting each other's sentences.

"…Please…" I began.

"H-Hahi! What's—" She choked.

"…move…"

"—going—"

"…out…"

"—on—"

"…of the way!" I hollered.

She must have processed my message subconsciously. At the very last second, she sidestepped, evading what would have been a painful accident.

Too bad the same didn't go for her pudding. Apparently, the strong gust radiating off those stampeding thugs hot on my trail lead to its demise. I could only imagine the poor dessert was now splattered on concrete, pudding guts no more than a beautiful dream evaporated on a sunny day.

"H-Hahi! Haru only took one bite!" I heard her exclaim.

"Sorry! The next time I see you, I'll treat you to orange juice!" I called over my shoulder.

Wow, I sounded like I was trying to hit on her.

I highly doubted we'd meet again; hence, the reason for my generous offer. The same went for that spiky haired guy I had unwisely decided to help.

This event would be carved into memory, though.

— — — — — —

The moon was out by the time I arrived (finally) at my place of residence—a run-of-the-mill medium-sized apartment located on the third floor of a similarly unremarkable building. Although not the most luxurious place to live in, the simple dwelling was more than enough to house two ordinary people—those two being my uncle and I.

"I'm back," I called, twisting the doorknob.

I found my uncle perched in front of the dining table, immersing himself in a magazine. I believe its title was 'Top Rated Beauty Products; The Shampoo You Can't Survive Without.'

"Ah, welco—home?"

My uncle unwisely chose to poke his head up from his object of focus instead of simply giving me an absentminded hand wave. As a result, he was treated to a very flattering picture of his one and only niece clad in a costume of decaying food and refuse.

I pulled a banana peel off my head, entered the apartment, and shut the door behind me.

"You look like you just took a walk into a garbage can and back," he said.

That's an excellent guess.

"I did."

He raised a curious eyebrow.

"I ran into some trouble."

"Really? And what was that?" he asked.

I brushed a fish skeleton off my shoulder. "Delinquents."

"Delinquents," he repeated incredulously.

"You got it. The kinds who won't stop chasing after you for interfering with their bullying hobbies until you hop into the nearest dumpster and out of sight."

"Yue, are you trying to be funny?"

"Of course not."

"I hope you aren't thinking I'll accept that silly explanation."

"Call it silly if you want, but I just told it like it happened. In a nutshell."

"Right. And the groceries?"

I turned my pockets inside out. "Forgot my wallet."

He gave a sigh of surrender, snapping his magazine closed. "Honestly, what am I going to do with you?"

Although I lived with my uncle, we don't see each other on a regular basis. Today was actually his first visit back home after several weeks of absence. Some months ago, Uncle Kouichi had scored a job on the other side of town. In order to avoid spending hours on transportation in the mornings and nights, he usually stayed at my aunt's; her house was located much closer to the workplace.

I held out my hands in a gesture of apology and made a beeline for the kitchen. The last thing I remembered eating was an inadequate breakfast twelve hours ago; hunger was currently at its peak. Plus, that little adventure had been exhausting.

I barely took the first few steps when Uncle Kouichi shot up from his seat, eyes wide in a wonderful display of alarm.

Having grown accustomed to his expressive body language, I was clearly able to distinguish what his problem was even before he vocalized his complaint.

"WAIT just a minute! You are NOT coming in here like that," he declared.

"Can't I just grab something to eat first?"

"AFTER you get yourself cleaned up. We don't want an infestation in here. I just mopped the floors and cleaned the rooms today."

Say hello to my dear Uncle Kouichi, an adult infatuated with cleanliness and order. His idea of utopia is a world where everything follows a destined pattern. Objects must line up a certain way, details must read just right, and anything less must be corrected. In fact, the slightest disruption in this so-called essential balance would cause him to hyperventilate.

I suspect that he suffers from obsessive compulsive disorder, given his hysterical reactions to anything short of sanitary and organized. With his constant rituals of perfectionism, living under the same roof as him was quite stressful. We inescapably shared a bipolar uncle and niece relationship when it came to housekeeping; for any order he managed to establish for the apartment, I would end up canceling with my own dose of equal and opposite disorder.

Which would then make the apartment's conditions . . . neutral?

I wisely decided to avoid commencing an argument with him. I reckoned I still owed him some respect since his lack of presence at home has transformed him into something of a guest. My stomach would just have to wait.

I prepared to walk in the direction of my room for a new change of clothes when my eyesight perceived a rectangular object being tossed at my feet.

One look and my mouth opened in surprise.

". . . Are these my registration papers?" I asked.

"They sure are," Uncle Kouichi replied, tapping his fingers on his magazine.

"I was wondering where they had disappeared to."

"And what I'm wondering is why you left them in the freezer," he said.

His remark caused me to wrinkle my brow in puzzlement.

"I what where?"

"The freezer. I found them while I was clearing out the refrigerator today."

I stooped down and picked up the packet, aware that it was a bit damp. "Oh. I guess I must have mislaid them."

"Of all places, how in the world could they have ended up in the freezer?"

Yeah, how did they end up there?

"I'm trying to remember. I guess it might have something to do with me getting distracted while attempting to multitask."

"You never cease to amaze me. If you hadn't noticed, the due date is drawing closer and closer. You should be more careful."

"I did noticed. I filled everything out already."

Giving the wad of papers a quick examination, I rejoiced that despite having been imprisoned for an eternity in an environment with temperatures below zero degrees, they had remained in a decent state.

"Well, I'll be leaving again tomorrow so you better take it upon yourself to avoid being late on your first day," he informed. "I won't be here to drag you out of bed."

"Roger."

"My name's Kouichi, you call me Uncle Kouichi."

"Roger, Uncle Kouichi."

"Drop the Roger, this isn't radio communications. But more importantly, please try not to make a mess out of the apartment while I'm gone!"

He should know better than to request that of someone who tosses important documents in the fridge.

I flipped the packet to the front side. The two words imprinted boldly across the top center were impossible to ignore.

Namimori Middle.

I can feel something coming. Something life-changing.

Or maybe that's just the discomfort caused by all that garbage.

I need a shower.

A/N: Sorry for the not KHR-ish chapter. X.X