Grabbing her gym uniform from her dresser, Sakura stuffed it in her bag unceremoniously before jogging down the stairs of her house, slipping into her socks near the door. Her mom—who was cooking breakfast in the kitchen—gestured her over with an...eerily calm face that the pinkette knew meant something was wrong; usually that scary face would be used when she was called by the teacher or found out she had an overdue book at the library that cost over two-hundred dollars, but for some odd reason, there was something else behind that face.
So, she apprehensively took a seat, her legs swinging nervously from the edge of the oak wood chair. No words were said in the mean time—only the awkward silence as a mother continued to stare at her daughter; a mother-daughter bonding moment...specifically a Haruno mother-daughter moment. The pinkette bit her lip; how the heck was her mother able to stare at her while cooking? Of course, with many years of practice, the older Haruno was able to multitask—which, unfortunately, meant she could make the younger Haruno uncomfortable. Too creepy!
A plate of toast and eggs were set in front of her, and she slowly brought out her special pair of froggy chopsticks that her mom had bought her; instead of walking into the living room to enjoy a nice cup of coffee like she usually did every morning, the blonde sat in the seat in front of her with an odd glint in her eyes. Sakura tensed. Odd glints and calm faces were never a good thing when dealing with Ayame Haruno. Sure, others would laugh and brush it off simply because that was her trying to be funny and have a good laugh—but, if they actually had to live with her for oh, how about 14 years then they'd know it meant the total opposite.
And it did mean the total opposite—she hadn't even swallowed her food yet when the older Haruno spoke out for the first time that morning with an overly-preppy tone that was layered with traces of venom that only mother hens had, "Saku-chan, I heard from...other people that you've been hanging around boys lately."
The younger girl blinked, and after a few moments of registering what her mom had said, she resisted the urge to face plant; oh no, this was a conversation concerning a mother hen's worst fear—boys. And of course, by 'boys' she probably meant Tsuna (for some reason, she had been hanging around with him a lot lately) and by 'other people' she probably meant that old crone that lived down the street who always had a knack for gossiping to her mom about anything and everything. Including the pinkette's love life. You wrinkly old bat! Go find yourself a man and get a life!
"Mom—"
"Are you dating him?" Straight to the point; that was one thing she always admired about her mother, but now? Well, she just really felt vulnerable and interrogated and—wait, did she just ask if she was dating Tsuna? By the calm look on the other woman's face, yes—yes, Ayame Haruno had just asked her daughter if she was dating someone. And Sakura Haruno was just waiting for her mom to explode into a lecture of 'you're too young for love' and 'I don't want you hanging around him' and 'my child's innocence is tainted by the lips of a pervert' or something along the lines of those.
So, she did what she did best whenever it came to conversation like these—she reeled back as if she were slapped and gaped openly.
"What? Mom, no!" She exclaimed, pink dusting her cheeks at such a sensitive and personal question. Why must parents always nose around in their childrens' love lives? It was embarrassing enough that she had to deal with her mom's weird obsession with cartoons (she'd always deny that, but her collection of limited edition Snoopy artifacts and Hello Kitty lunchboxes that she always kept hidden in her closet were proof), but now her mom was going through that 'don't touch my daughter or tainted her or so help me' phase. She rolled her eyes, running her hand through her hair in annoyance, "He's a friend. Just a friend."
"Oh yeah?" The older woman prodded with her scary overly-cheerful voice (oh my gosh, the calm face and the voice combined—her wrath is just unwinding), propping her self on her elbows and leaning towards the fidgeting girl that began to chew on her food super slowly; the pinkette's emerald eyes darted around the room, uncomfortable with the scrutiny her mother was using. She inwardly groaned; couldn't it wait until after she finished her breakfast?
But she knew her mother wouldn't let her go so easily—the 31-year-old was one to prod a certain subject and she'd never give up until she was satisfied with the answer she was given. "Then what about that handsome silver-haired boy you 'bumped' (cue the finger quotation marks) into yesterday, hm?"
Oh god—really? She resisted the urge to gag, and did her best to stare at her mom without losing her cool, "M-Mom, that guy was a jerk. I don't even know him!" Why? Why must parents be like this? Right now, all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and curse the old crone that did this to her. Her eye twitched; the next time she saw that old crone, she's gonna knock some sense into her—well, not with her fists, no! With her metaphorical fists, yes. And by fists, she meant giving out wrong information whenever the old crone asked for it.
"Aha! So, it was just a quick fling, eh? A one night stand—" Her mother accused with a finger pointed at the girl's face, and the said girl nearly choked on the toast she was eating. WHY? Darn her mom's assuming ways!—drinking her water to calm down her coughing fit, she shot her mom a disbelieving look and pinched the bridge of her nose all the while trying not to explode.
She made sure her voice tried to over-power the older woman, who still continued to rant. "Honestly, mom! I bumped into him, the guy was being a jerk, and so I ignored him and made my way to school! Ugh, mom, why are you always dogging on me about boys? I can handle myself fine."
"—I raised my daughter to be better than that! And now look—my baby is tainted! Tainted, I say!" After her mother finished her babbling, the pinkette let out a groan of frustration and all but stormed out of her seat, ignoring her mother's calls and silently seethed as she walked out of her house. Honestly, the whole thing was ridiculous—mothers could be so over-protective; it was just her luck that she had the violently over-protective one. Sure, her mother was nice and all, but her true nature? Why, her true nature was that of a bull—stubborn, hard-headed, narrow-minded, and was a pain in the ass when poked by it's horns (but in her mother's case, her rolling pin), but the pinkette knew her mom was full of good intentions. Well...sometimes.
Stupid hens. Stupid bats. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID. With each 'stupid' that crossed her mind, her pace to school became slightly faster—and under a few minutes, she was all but bolting towards school, leaving a trail of dust behind her that made people cough and wave their arms around to move it out of the way.
She was just so irritated—her personal life was being broken in to, an old woman kept on spying on her just for the hell of it, her mom was too freaking over-protective, she had a volleyball match today ('cause the idiot she was reserved for went and gotten himself sick with the stomach flu or something; that, and her master had specifically asked her to take any chance she got in sports so that she could build stamina and train her muscles) and she was the only girl playing. If being involved with the mafia wasn't bad enough already.
Unknowingly, her route changed in direction—she had took a left instead of the usual shortcut; she decided that the running was good for a little thinking time, and because her mom's unnecessary rambling had practically forced her out of the house, she wouldn't be late...and then she wouldn't have to deal with the older boy that had a biting fetish. I'll bite you to death. She shivered at the thought and shook it off for the sake of her sanity and her concentration; if she kept thinking of him, she was sure to land face-first into some not-so-good-tasting concrete. Her thoughts were cut off when she saw a flash of silver through the corner of her eyes, and she looked over her shoulder and was met face-to-face with...who was this guy?
Who was—weirdly—running at the same pace as she was. Who was—weirdly—running right next to her. Who was—weirdly—wearing the Namimori Middle School uniform. Who was—weirdly—yelling some battle cry.
Shaking off the weirdness of it all, she took the time to take in his appearance; his hair was short and silver (again with the silver hair; what was it with people these days with all these weird hair colors?), with eyes a few shades darker than his hair and a thin bandage strip that was placed across his nose—the most notable trait about him, though, was the thin scar that was at the corner of his left eye brow, starting at his forehead and ending at the corner of his eye. Underneath his uniform, he wore a green tee, with dark blue jeans and black sneakers; his hands were wrapped in bandages—no blood, probably just for show.
A gruff and loud voice interrupted her analyzing and she watched in amazement as he turned to her, his gray eyes blazing with passion, "Good morning! It's nice to see someone who enjoys extreme running as much as I do!" She inwardly blanched; this guy acted as if it was the most natural thing to do—it wasn't everyday where someone runs around the town at a speed normal human beings can't run at. Sending him a weird look, the only thing she could do at the moment was nod slowly, inching away from him a bit.
"I see you go to Namimori Middle School! Do you mind if I join you?"
She blinked; yeah, this guy was definitely weird. Not only that, but his energy somewhat scared her...but, seeing as she probably couldn't get rid of him even if she wanted to (without chakra, of course), she gave a defeated sigh and nodded, offering him a weary smile and turning her attention back to the speeding world in front of her. And as she half-heartedly listened to the older boy—Ryohei Sasagawa (now why does that sound so familiar?), he introduced himself—ramble to her, she couldn't help but wonder if there was any sanity left in the world.
"Good morning, Tsuna."
Tired out, she greeted him with forced enthusiasm as she took her spot next to the brunette—the said boy greeted her back with a small smile and the two silently made their way to their classroom. Her legs were hurting and strained at the fact that the jog she had took this morning had gotten out of hand; apparently, Ryohei was a pretty quick runner, and asked if she wanted to race to school. Being curious as to why, she agreed—only to be left in his dust. She didn't want to use chakra (I didn't want to make him cry when he lost, shannaro!), and had to resort to running as fast as she could.
In the end, they were both tied, making it to school at the same time—he had (loudly, she dully noted) congratulated her and told her that her 'passion was extreme' and that she would (not could, not should, but would) become his morning-jog buddy. Before she could argue, however, she was left to stand by the gates while he ran off into the main door, leaving a trail of dust behind him as he did so. And that was how she had found someone to make her life even more insane than it usually was. Well, it was never normal to begin with, anyway.
She silently wondered to herself as she and the brunette turned a corner—now that she was involved with the mafia, what would happen? To be honest, if being involved with the Mafia meant endangering the people she loved (her mom, even if she was a psychotic hen) then she wanted nothing to do with them. She had a million questions that needed to be answered—who else is in the mafia, what was she going to do, where else would she be needed, when would she have to explain to her mom, why should she be in the mafia, how would she be of help—but she painfully knew that with time, all her questions would be answered. But too bad—I'm not a patient person.
No, she wasn't a patient person—and she wanted her answers now. She was sure Tsuna couldn't answer her questions; even if he was destined to be the Vongola boss, he was probably not mentally or emotionally prepared to actually be involved. She didn't need to be a genius to know that he wanted nothing to do with the mafia. The boy was too timid to actually do those kinds of things, he was probably scared of the things that would happen in his future as a Vongola boss, he was just like her—not wanting to be involved, but have to anyway. But unlike her, who was forced to be involved by Tsunade and could step out any time she wanted to (in order to do so, she had to resign as her apprentice and have her chakra sealed permanently), he had no choice in the matter—he was already chosen because he was from the blood of the first Vongola boss.
In the end—she bitterly realized—that everyone was all the same; even if they wanted certain things to happen or certain things to change, it wouldn't matter because in the end they'd have no choice but to give up and go with the flow.
Life was so bittersweet.
A bastard child, she was. No matter how much she wanted have a father in her life, she couldn't because he was too much of a drunk to actually remember where he belonged. A pink-haired child, she was. No matter how much she wanted the bullying to stop, it didn't because her pink hair would continue to grow as long as she lived and her mom hated hair dye. A nobody, she was. No matter how much she wanted to be acknoledged in a world such as this, she wouldn't because no one bothered a second glance to a pink-haired freak with no father.
She glanced at the smiling boy through the corner of her eye and bit her lip; Tsuna was starting a mafia family—a new beginning. Maybe she could start over and become better than ever. She wouldn't be a bastard child; she'd have a mom and a new family that would be willing to accept her with open arms (would they?). She wouldn't be teased of her unnaturally natural looks; she'd have a mom and a new family that would be willing to embrace her—hair, soul, faults, and all (would they?). She wouldn't be a nobody; she'd have a mom and a new family that would be willing to show her she wasn't just anybody (would they?). A family where she could always count on them, protect them, nurture them, grow up with them—a family that'd love her. A family she'd loved and protect (would she?) and risk her life for (would she?).
A family...
Her thoughts were cut off when they saw the classroom up ahead, and she fixed her uniform so that she didn't look like a train wreck (dang that energetic and his dang energy) and walked into the chattering classroom alongside Tsuna—they (well, mostly Tsuna) were showered with compliments and laughter and even more chattering as soon as they (he) stepped foot into the room, causing him to gawk for a few moments before laughing and smiling awkwardly at everyone. But there was something in the air—something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
She hated sensations like that—they reminded her too much of the President. And so, wanting to put an end to that sensation, she looked for the source, her emerald eyes scanning the room for anything out of place. A smiling Yamamoto who began to pat Tsuna on the back, Hana letting out soft giggles with Kyoko, that one girl with the pig tails smiling at the chubby boy, the tall blonde flirting with two girls who stared at him with disgust, a silver-haired youth who stood in the corner of the room glaring at Tsuna with his arms crossed and his lips deep-set in a scowl, a red-head laughing along with her brown-haired friend, a dark-haired boy smirking at a blushing and bristling blonde-haired girl—
Wait a minute.
Something wasn't right. She scanned the room once more in attempt to distinguish normalcy from the unsual. A smiling Yamamoto was always normal (unless he was a sadist that smiled through someone's pain, but that was highly unlikely seeing as the tall boy was a ray of absolute sunshine), a flustered Tsuna was pretty normal since he got embarrassed easily, girls were girls and Hana and Kyoko were no different and liked to giggle about non-sense things very often, she didn't even know who the other people were but she saw them in school a lot, and the silver-haired boy that was scowling—
Wait another minute.
The words 'silver' and 'hair' and 'scowling' never sounded good in the same sentence. Her brow furrowed in confusion, but something deep in her gut told her she wasn't imagining that same guy that she bumped into yesterday was in her class. With narrowed emerald eyes, she analyzed him; the spiky chin-lengthed silver hair, the stormy green eyes that were glaring harshly at an oblivious Tsuna (who was still flustered and stuttering due to all the attention he was getting), the 'don't-fuck-with-me-or-you-get-a-fist-to-your-face' posture (crossed arms, body leaned against the wall, one leg on the wall while the other set firmly on the ground), the scowl, the rings and chains and wristbands and necklaces...yeah, it was him, alright.
WAS THIS GUY STALKING ME OR SOMETHING? Unknowingly, her gaze had turned into a hard glare and before she knew it, she was making her way through the chattering crowd and towards the jerk that she hoped she'd never ever see again (but in the end, she knew she'd have to give up and go with the flow—no matter how much she wanted him gone and away from her, the other classrooms were full so his chances of switching classes were gone, and she'd have to put up with him for the rest of the school year), causing everyone to go quiet and watch the up-coming show down.
Her strodes were slow, calm, but deep down inside she was resisting the chakra that was slowly leaking out of her form (man, who knows what the consequences would be if the purple-gray-eyed boy ever found out she caused craters in the classroom) and controlling her urge to rip his throat out (and maybe misplace some of his organs in places other than inside his body). Once she was only a few feet away, his gaze snapped to her—his scowl did not disappear; instead, it had gotten impossibly deeper. She returned his irritated gaze with a seething look and crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to look intimidating, "What are you doing here, jerk?"
Whispers filled the air. "Whoah...Sakura-san is calling out the new kid!"
She watched with sharp eyes, seeing his eye brow twitch; what the heck was his freaking problem? She raised an eye brow to indicate she was still awaiting for his answer—accompanied by that was a tapping foot to indicate that she was impatient and fingers drumming along her bicep to indicate that she was twice as impatient. After a few moments, he got up from his spot on the wall and walked towards her, his hands clenched into fists, and stopped when he was nearly centimeters away—he was so close that she could feel the fabric of his shirt brush against the knuckles of her now-fisted hands.
Because he was nearly 5 inches taller than her (only reaching up to his chin; curse people and their unusual ways of growing taller), it probably looked comical seeing such a fragile-looking ('fragile-looking' my ass, shannaro!) girl staring down an intimidating boy. His lips twitched, and she vaguely heard a small 'tch' before he growled out, "Are you stupid or what? Obviously, I'm the new student, pinky." Again with the freaking nickname—not only that, but he had insulted her intelligence, too. THAT BASTARD!
"Why I outta—" The next thing she knew, she trying her best to resist wringing the taller boy's neck in pure hate and frustration as the two exchanged barrages of low-blow insults, spewing out curses that would make anyone's mom cry at the sheer vulgarity of it. Her eyes blazed; this guy was really getting on her nerves. First, he bumped into her and made an ass out of himself; then, she bumped into him again and he continued to make an ass of himself; now, he was just being a real pain in the ass. Just who the hell did he think he was? Just because he picked fights and was a real rebel did not mean he had the right to go around and act like a total jerk to everyone and anyone.
"You know what, kid? You're just another jerk just itching for attention!" Score one for her.
"Said the girl who dyed her hair pink so that she could catch some attention for herself!" Oh no he didn't—
"MY HAIR IS NATURAL, YOU IDIOT!"STUPID GIMP, I'M SO GONNA PUMMEL HIS ASS TO THE GROUND WITH SOME GOOD, OLD CHAKRA FISTS!
By now, all students had broke out into an uproar and was now circled around the two bickering teens. A few (sane) students tried to pacify the whole situation, but she didn't even bother with them—her temper was just boiling and she really wanted to punch that pretty little face of his; it was too bad she didn't have her leather gloves with her. She really wanted to test those out and she wanted him to have the honors of being the first person to punch with it on. Most of the students cheered from the sidelines, hands cupped around their mouths to amplify their yelling—some cheered on for her, some cheered on the glaring silver-haired boy in front of her.
"Hey new kid, go easy on her—"
"Beat him up, Sakura-san—"
"Sakura-san! Kyaaa, new kid! Fiiiiiggggghhhhtttt—"
Through the cheers and disapproved yells, she heard his pissed-off voice, "You wanna fight, pinky? Then a fight you'll get!" Fight? CHYEAH RIGHT, FIGHTING YOU WOULD BE LIKE SQUASHING AN ANT, SHANNARO!
Oh this boy was just asking for it! Unknowingly, her hands fisted at her sides, summoning a small amount of chakra. Letting out a loud growl, she pulled her fist back and prepared to land a good punch or two on his still-scowling (just when does he ever not scowl?) face when the sound of the door slamming open caused her to recoil and jump away, her wide-eyed gaze whipping to the direction of the class room's entrance. Because most of the taller people in class were blocking the way, she wasn't able to see who it was. Suddenly, all noise died in the room, and the chilly sensations crawled up her spine and back down—the hairs on the back of her neck stood erect. Oh no. That was never a good sign—especially when all the students in the room began to tremble.
Please don't let it be—
"You herbivores are disrupting other classes. If you don't keep it down, you'll all be bitten to death."
If there was a time when she had a choice to jump out off of the roof of Namimori, it would be now—because it was better to have died a quick and painful death rather than dying by the hands of a blood-lusting person. A cold bead of sweat ran down her temple, her legs frozen and her quarrel with the silver-haired boy behind her quickly forgotten; no, no, no—when everyone quietly scrambled to get to their desks, she made sure she stayed low and hidden (her pink hair, of course, attracted attention) and once she got to her seat, she sat, lips sealed and eyes avoiding the figure that stood at the front. She couldn't be seen, stay quiet, don't talk, don't move.
This was the last straw—if she was even seen the slightest by him, he was going to...she didn't even want to think about it. Even if she didn't know what was going to happen to her if she was caught. There were a lot of ideas in her head—such as getting beat up, getting expelled, getting beat up and expelled—but death was probably the most likely to happen. Hopefully no one else in class would not be like her and tread on thin ice, going about and pretending that there was no higher authority in school after the principal.
But the sliver-haired kid was sure to disrespect the prefect.
Eyes widening, she whipped her head in the direction of the new student—sure enough, he was standing at the corner of the room with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking through the corners of her eyes at the dark-haired 16-year-old, who was leaning against the door way with his arms crossed. When she thought things were going to get even worse (the new kid looked like he was about to lash out some insults and she knew those kinds of acts were never tolerated by the Namimori Discipline Committee), quick footsteps were heard from the hallway outside, followed by a small scared squeak. Peeking through her bangs cautiously, she watched as the prefect yawned and strolled out of the room, "Being late to class is unacceptable as a teacher."
"I-I know, Hibari-san, but something came up—" The resounding sounds of the President's footsteps cut him off and the older man was inside the room in a semi-second, quickly shutting the door behind him and bustling to his desk to get his things assorted (and to probably hide the wet stain on his pants). Relief flooded her veins, calming her racing heart and making her sigh; she was safe for now. Closing her eyes, she silently thanked the higher deity up above for blessing her with another day of living. For some odd reason, her luck was in ruins—in the span of four days, she had gone through too many misfortunes to count (maybe it was Tsunade's terrible luck that was starting to rub off on her), but today had to be the luckiest thing that ever happened to her.
He didn't see her! That itself was a miracle on it's own.
Her skills at being discreet were improving; not only was she able to avoid being seen by the dark-haired boy (which was like dodging a bullet in the darkness for her), but she was able to prove that pink-hair could easily blend in to certain places (but this was only successful because she had hid her whole face behind the girl that sat in front of her). Her master would be proud—she was becoming more of a ninja; her previous fears were replaced with dignity and pride, straightening up in her seat with a small smile on her face. Hopefully, she wouldn't run into him. Ever again. Even if she knew it was entirely impossible since he was always at school, it didn't hurt to hope. Her thoughts were cut off by the teacher, who cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.
"C-Class," the glasses-wearing man started after gulping visibly, "T-This is Hayato Gokudera; he came here all the way from Italy, so please—erm, please make him feel welcome..."
At that moment, all the girls in the class broke out in admiring giggles, commenting on how much of 'hunk' he looked like and how his rebellious image was so cool and what not; she resisted the urge to gag—what the heck was so special about him that girls found so charming? Sure, the guy was cute, but did they not see what he was about to do to her earlier? He was about to punch (well, maybe not real punches, but he was punching her verbally with his insults; she was sure verbal punches hurt as much as physical punches do) the living daylights out of her!
Of course they didn't see that! They were too blinded by his 'hotness,' YUCK!
Her sharp gaze never left his form even when he was told to sit in the back—wait a second. She looked to her left and to her right; there were no empty desks...what did the teacher mean by the back—oh no. No, no, no, nononononono! She resisted the urge to scream in frustration; there was only one seat in this entire room that wasn't occupied and that seat was right behind her's. She didn't want him there; and by the looks of the jerk's—Hayato Gokudera, she inwardly seethed—face, the feeling was probably mutual. The kid was bound to stir up some trouble—true to her word, he didn't even make it to his seat.
He had stopped at Tsuna's desk and stared him down with hate-filled eyes—the scared look on the brunette's face told her that he didn't even know what the heck was happening. And when Tsuna's trembling form was sent to the ground roughly along with his whole desk for no actual reason (which was all caused by that silver-haired jerk), she knew this kid was up to no good. And she didn't care about what other girl's squealed about, saying that his rude actions only added to his bad-boy charm—he had no right to be doing those kinds of things.
No matter how badly she wanted to re-arrange his stupid scowling face (even more so with the whole class watching—she didn't care, he deserved it), she couldn't get suspended just for punching the new kid in the face. So she sat in her seat, fighting the temptation to do anything she'd regret later—the only thing she could do was glare at his passing form as he did the same to her. Just what the hell is his problem?
Class that day was a bit boring—everyone was a bit tired out from earlier in the morning, except for Tsuna, who was shaking in his desk. She raised an eye brow; what was wrong with him? But, judging from the dark aura that surrounded the boy behind her, it probably had something to do with him. Her eye twitched; why didn't he just give it a break already? Geeze, the guy had done nothing the whole time besides glaring at the brunette while doing the work the teacher had passed out. How he was able to glare and concentrate on all the work in class at the same time, she didn't want to know (and didn't want to care)—all she knew was that something was bound to happen between the two.
Once class was over, she nearly groaned; she had a volleyball game to attend to. And as she walked out of class to grab her gym uniform, she couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes glaring daggers at her retreating back.
Things were not going to end well.
Sighing to herself, she dusted off the imaginary lint off of her blue gym pants as she made her way to the gym (hm, that place is really popular lately) with a small frown marring her face—for one thing, the knee pads (for extra precautions! Mother hen would worry and possibly sue the school!) that were hidden behind the fabric of her pants were becoming itchier and itchier with each step she took; unfortunately, she ignored it for the sake of not looking like an idiot in public. Her elbow guards—which were a gift from her mom one her fourteenth birthday—sat comfortably on her elbows, moving along with her arms with no problem.
Her hair (which was usually held back by her red ribbon) was put up into a pony tail so that it wouldn't get in her eyes, the red ribbon resting in her bag back in the lockers; it felt awkward without it, as if her bangs would fall into her face any moment and the feeling of not having her forehead exposed after a set number of years doubled the amount of awkwardness. But that was quickly brushed aside when she had found out about the current predicament.
Gokudera had somehow managed to be a player in the volleyball match and that irked her to no end—if the only thing he was going to do was stand at the sidelines and glare at Tsuna with all his might without even lending a hand in the play, then he would be useless and even with the reserves playing, the team would still be one player short. Because of this, Tsuna would probably caught off-guard with the boy's harsh treatment and would be distracted the whole time. She scoffed to herself silently; great, we're going to lose today. All because of boy problems.
She never really understood boys, really—they were just too weird, too complicated to handle. She had remembered a boy from her childhood who's name escaped her, who had teased her almost every single day in class. He always insulted her on everything she did, always making her cry, always picking on her for her pink hair. He did that for a year—but then he suddenly just stopped, and even if she was relived, it confused her greatly. Then one day, he had come up to her and told her he liked her a lot. She had told her mom (who, predictably, started flipping out and threatened to sue his family for sexual harassment), asking how a boy who seemed like he hated her like her. Her mom had told her that when a boy teased a girl, it meant that they liked her.
JUST WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU TEASE THE GIRL YOU LIKE?
Shaking her head in frustration, she pushed open the door to the gym and was met with the loud cheers from the students; past the crowd, she saw Yamamoto, (for once, she was thankful he was so tall; he could see over the heads of students) who gestured her energetically with a bright smile lacing his features. She nodded, her face set in determination; boy problems or not, she was going to make sure that she'd make her master proud! If she needed to build stamina, then playing with her all was what she was going to do.
After pushing her way into the crowd, she made it to the net and was greeted by the other members, taking her place next to the tall dark-haired boy. She bit her lip; everyone else was much taller than her, and she wasn't even sure if she knew how to play volleyball...she shook her head—she couldn't think like that! Being small didn't hinder anyone and all she had to do was hit the ball inside the lines...right? Her eye twitched; she was doomed. (Oh, Tsunade-shishou, why do you hate me so?)
Once the match had started, she quietly analyzed how the other players played; so she was right! She grinned to herself; hit the ball and make sure the other team doesn't hit it back—if it hits the ground, you lose, if it doesn't, keep hitting until someone misses—easy peasy. And so, when it was her turn to hit it, she felt a spark of excitement—this was it! It was her moment to shine...the ball was coming at her quickly; not wanting to lose her chance, she straightened her arms and prepared to hit. With each centimeter the ball came closer, her heart beat sped up; closer, closer, closer...THERE!
The second the leather ball came in contact with the skin of her forearm, she cringed (but sucked it up because her master trained her better than that) and returned it with high hopes that it would be the winning hit—
—only for it to come in contact with the net. Her pride that was beginning to well up left as soon as it came, and her form visibly deflated; damn, she missed completely. With that loss, she looked down at the floor, crest-fallen, rubbing her forearm so that the stinging sensation would go away. Because of her, the whole team missed a chance of gaining a point and she felt like absolute crap about it. Maybe she should just leave; she didn't really know how to play, anyway—it would benefit the whole team and would probably raise their chances of winning.
She was useless.
Before her thoughts could stray any further, a hand gently clasped her shoulder, causing her to look up from her dejection and into the amber eyes of Yamamoto, who—amazingly—was smiling down at her along with the rest of the members (save Gokudera, who stood a good few feet away from them with crossed arms and his never-ending scowl). Biting her lip, she avoided their eye contact and shifted uncomfortably on her feet, "I'm sorry. We missed a point because of me." I truly am pathetic...
She had expected to be scolded at for being dumb and not thinking before she played—she expected to be insulted, to be told to leave, to be told that she couldn't do anything right. Becuase of that, she had braced herself for the on-coming onslaught of criticism, scrutiny, reprimands, but she was caught-off guard when the tall boy simply laughed and patted her back softly. At this action, she furrowed her brow in confusion and looked up (he was SO tall) with her head tilted to the side. Why was he laughing at her? Was it because she lost a point or something?
"Sakura, don't be too hard on yourself!" He said good-heartedly, "There's always the next one, so don't be so sad about it. We've got four more rounds, so just do your best!"
What? She eyed the team in front of her, watching as their faces broke out into encouraging smiles and grins before looking back at Yamamoto, who beamed at her; so they weren't mad at her for that? After one more look around her team mates, she concluded that they weren't—not one bit. As to why, she didn't know—but she was still grateful for it. With their smiles, she couldn't help but feel a bit more confident with herself now that she knew she wouldn't be put down if she missed; like Yamamoto had said, there were still four more rounds to go, and they were still on the first one. I'll show them that I can do it, SHANNARO!
So, with her lips curling upwards into a confident and determined grin, she straightened her posture from her dejected slump and into a person who was ready for anything and nodded, her emerald eyes blazing, "Right! Let's do this!" Encouragement instead of discouragement? Boys were so weird. (And for the first time in her life, she was happy that they were so weird—but she'd deny it a thousand times later on.)
Throughout the rest of the round, she was on a roll—with a few hits there and a few saves there, and with each cheer she eliceted from the crowd, her confidence boosted. But even with her hits and saves, they were still loosing; the whole team was counting on Tsuna, but without the Deathperation shot, she knew he wasn't capable of doing it. She rolled her eyes; some day that boy wouldn't be able to count on those things and that he had to deal with the situation himself, not with the help of some red bullet that made people practically naked.
For the past ten minutes, Tsuna had taken a few hard hits to the face, leaving red marks on his cheeks and forehead, and now the whole crowd seemed a bit dead due to the lack of action the boy was giving. She resisted the urge to sigh; man, if he wanted to win the match then he needed to man up. But for some odd reason, the thought of seeing a Tsuna with a backbone and an attitude really scared her—it just didn't seem right...shaking off the thought, she prepared to hit when she saw someone on the opposite team serve the ball to her right, probably towards Yamamoto. She pouted; just when the heck were they going to serve to her?
"Sakura-chan, watch out!"
At the alarmed tone of Tsuna's voice, she lifted her head in quick attention only to see the volleyball coming her way—
(She really needed to be careful of what she wished for.)
The leathery surface of the ball came in contact with her face, the sound echoing through the now-quiet gym and the only thing that was running through her mind was, 'SCREW BEING RECKLESS! I'M GONNA CHAKRA-SERVE THEIR ASSES!' And with that, she was sent flying backwards onto the ground, her whole front facing the ceiling as her hands flew up to her face to cradle the spot where it had been hit—with each second, the stinging turned into a searing pain that summoned tears to the corners of her eyes which threatened to fall. Secretly sending chakra to her palms, she numbed out the stinging sensation in mere seconds and gritted her teeth.
Someone was going to pay for that. Oh, she was so pissed—and so, when the stinging was gone, her temper had hit her full-force; someone...WAS GOING TO PAY! With her fists clenched at her sides, she pushed herself off of the ground and ignored the concerned gazes of her team mates as she calmly dusted herself off. Walking off to the side, she brushed off the worried calls of Tsuna and Yamamoto and picked up the ball that was left at the side and stood in the middle of the front row. She whipped her head in the direction of the referee, who practically jumped at the sheer intensity of her stare.
"It's our turn to serve, right?" Even if it was a question, she wouldn't take no as an answer—therefore, she heightened the threat in her stare, making the older man nod quickly. She then turned her head to her team mates—who all wore identical faces of fright (save for Yamamoto, who's eye brows were raised in question of her sudden change in attitude and Gokudera)—and gave them the same stare she gave the referee, tossing the ball to the tall boy casually, "I'm switching to the front row." She made sure no one would argue with her.
And they didn't—they simply nodded and went to their respective places, arms straightened and prepared to return a hit. The other team, she noted, was a bit reluctant about the whole thing—especially the one who served the last hit—and she inwardly grinned; she was going to make them wished they never joined volleyball in the first place.
"Begin!" The referee called, and as soon as the word left his mouth, her emerald eyes glinted dangerously.
"Shan..."
Yamamoto served the ball.
"...na..."
She jumped high—all eyes were focused on her as she pulled her hand back.
"...RO!"
BAM!
Everyone watched in wonder and fear as the ball whizzed past the other team and onto the open space between the server's legs—the other team didn't even have time to move, and for that, the pinkette felt the edges of her lips twitch up into a satisfied smirk; no one hits Sakura Haruno and gets away with it.
Reborn watched in interest as the pink-haired apprentice of the Slug Princess spiked the ball with her eyes blazing with fury—no doubt angry from getting hit in the face unexpectedly. From what he gathered from Tsunade, she was a field medic and an excellent fighter, with great chakra control and a wide variety of skills that would be useful in the mafia world. She was very intelligent and was a quick learner, but lacked the and the stamina and the ability to understand others—although, Tsunade had said she had the stamina part covered.
"Sakura Haruno," the adult-turned-baby muttered to himself quietly, relaying the information to himself for future reference, "With her cheerful and pleasant disposition along with her short temper and strength, she'd make an excellent candidate for the Vongola Family. Even though her skills still need a bit sharpening up, she is becoming to be like her mentor—she would also be suitable for being a mafioso wife."
His gaze trailed after the tall dark-haired 14-year-old that returned a serve, "Takeshi Yamamoto; not only does he have the natural ability and magnetism to draw people in, and his physical strength would also benefit the family. It seems that Tsuna has already made friends with them." Down below, the said boy was being patted on the back by the pink-haired girl and the dark-haired boy, both of them with re-assuring smiles on their faces while the brunette looked at them with an embarrassed expression, scratching the back of his head.
Leon transformed into a sniper and he looked into the scope, aiming for the boy's head once the other two had gone to strategize with the other members—no doubt, Sakura would be the permanently set at the front row. Through the scope, Tsuna's expression changed into that of realization, the aura around him suddenly changing as he walked towards his team. The hitman smiled, "Now that he understands that he needs to play as if his life depended on it, he won't be needing the desperation shot."
Taking out a pair of blue bullets from his pocket, he loaded them into the sniper and aimed at the boy's legs, "Eat lead!"
He pulled the trigger.
"YEAH! We won!"
Cheers erupted from the gym when the referee announced the winning team—which was, surprisingly, class 1-A—and Sakura couldn't help but feel satisfied with herself. She was put at the front row and had discovered that she was good at blocking (she herself did not know that; her instincts had simply told her to hit the ball if it ever came over the net on her side), and if her master and Shizune (maybe even her mom) ever saw the match, they would've been proud.
During the match, Tsuna's abilities suddenly sky-rocketed (she sweatdropped; probably had something to do with Reborn since she saw something blue flash in the sky and towards the brunette) and he was able to jump 6 or 7 feet into the air with no trouble at all—much to everyone's disbelief. Throughout the next three matches, she was busying herself blocking hits that were headed her way while Tsuna jumped into the air and did a 'crotch block,' as the crowd had dubbed it. She grimaced; that had to hurt, seeing as she herself experienced getting hit in the face and to say that it hurt a lot was an understatement.
She smiled; she wasn't so useless after all.
With that, she felt excited and pleased, and squealed to herself as she ran towards Tsuna and Yamamoto, giving them quick hugs and laughing to her heart's content. She was just so happy and so proud that she couldn't help it—and when she saw their bewildered faces as she pulled away, she laughed even more, "C' mon you guys, we won!" It took them a few moments before they began to laugh along with her, and soon, she was cheering alongside the brunette and the tall boy, her stomach erupting into a warm and tingly feeling as she patted the two on their backs.
After a few more minutes of smiling like an idiot at receiving congratulatory pats on the back from the crowd and team mates, she excused herself to the bathrooms, where she changed out of her gym clothes, stuffing them away into her yellow messenger bag and slipping back into her clean and fresh uniform. She grimaced at the sight of her appearance in one of the mirrors, washing her hands as she did so; she looked absolutely terrible! Her hair—which was now back into her usual do of being held back by her favorite red ribbon—had creased from the hair tie, making it wavy and tangled up with a few strands of her bangs sticking to her cheeks. Her forehead was still a bit red from the ball, she looked a bit too pale for her own liking, and she felt utterly disgusted with being covered in dried sweat.
I SMELL NAAAASTY! As soon as I get home, I am going to take a LONG shower. Sighing, she stalked out of the bathroom and spotted Tsuna down the hall, already changed out of his clothes and into his uniform. Waving, she ran up to him and beamed, "You did great out there, Tsuna!" As they walked, he gave her a small smile (she suspiciously noted it had not reached his eyes the slightest bit; she wondered to herself what was wrong with him.)
"Y-You too, Sakura-chan," he murmured, turning his attention back to the surroundings with his face scrunched up in thought. She raised an eye brow; yeah, there was definitely something wrong. Maybe it had something to do with Gokudera—before she had left, she distantly heard the silver-haired boy making a comment to Tsuna, which got him caught-off guard. Her hands fisted, tightening their hold on the straps of her bag; there was just something off about that kid that didn't make her stomach sit well—sure, the kid had an attitude problem, but there was something else that made her mind nag a bit. And because of that, she felt the need to stay by Tsuna's side should that guy ever try to do anything stupid.
They had found themselves behind one of the school's buildings after more aimless walking and he still hadn't said another word; she couldn't help it—curiosity got the best of her and she wanted to know why he was acting like that. Slowly coming to a stop, she grabbed Tsuna's wrist in a firm yet gentle grip, making him squeak out in surprise; once she was sure there weren't any eavesdroppers, she turned back to him with concern lacing her features, "Tsuna, is something wrong?"
For a moment, he stared at her with surprised eyes before shaking his head, "No, I'm fine." Her brow furrowed; he was lying.
"Are you—" She was cut off by the sounds of footsteps from the direction they had come from; almost immediately, her head snapped to the side and was met with the sight of Gokudera, who stood a few meters away from them with his hands crossed over his chest—he certainly did not look the least bit happy. Her gaze narrowed and she let go of the now pale-looking brunette, standing with her fists at her side—he was not a good sign. Her hands slowly inched towards the black leather gloves which were stuffed into one of the side-pockets of her bag.
"G-Gokudera-kun?" The boy behind her stammered out while the said boy took a few steps closer and closer—he stopped when he was practically in front of them, sending dangerous glances at her and Tsuna. Clenching her hands, she looked at him apprehensively with her brow furrowed, "Did you need something, Gokudera-san?"(She had the sudden urge to call him 'jerk' and 'idiot,' but he had a name and she was going to be respectful of that, even if he wasn't doing the same.)
"I don't know what the Vongola family is doing naming you as their boss," he jeered, staring him down and completely ignoring the pink-haired girl. The said girl bristled when he ignored her—wait, what? Her eyes widened, all anger flying out the window and being replaced by fear; Gokudera...was in the mafia? She connected the dots from the incident between Tsuna and the silver-haired boy eariler that morning; so that was why he didn't like Tsuna! He didn't think he was fit to be the next boss. Before she could ponder on her new revelation, the taller boy said coolly, "You're nothing but scum—you'll be the cause of the Vongola Family's downfall."
"So you're in the mafia, too?" Her question wasn't a question at all; she was certain he was in the mafia. Their heads whipped in her direction, surprise written on their faces, but she had no time to explain or to be asked questions—what she really wanted to know was what his business was in Namimori. "What are you doing here?"
"Tch. It has nothing to do with you, pinky." Her eye twitched, and she did all she could from wringing his neck altogether.
"Look, Gokudera-san, it has everything to do with me," she began slowly, sending him a small glare, "I'm his ally, so I'm supposed to help out whenever Tsuna's in trouble. I'm sure you didn't come all the way to Japan just to tell him that he isn't good enough to be the boss." Tsuna's confused expression did not go unnoticed by her; she could tell him about her alliance any other day besides right now, and right now she was doing business with a possible threat. And should he be a possible threat, she was formulating plans of escaping: chakra-enhanced running, being a distraction, and using feminine advantages (though the last one was her last resort; she'd never stoop so low as to use something as vile as that unless the situation called for it).
She felt a bit smug when he went silent, staring down at her intently—she would not back down; she wouldn't be useless. If this guy wanted to pummel Tsuna to the ground, she wasn't going to watch from the sidelines and let him do as he pleased—she was going to be a darn good ally and help, whether or not she got severely injured or mentally scarred, she'd do it. She was sure her master would've done the same. She held his gaze unwaveringly; she was going to make her proud.
And it was probably because she was so stubborn that he looked away with a scowl and turned his attention back to the shorter boy, "You're pathetic—relying on your allies to bail you out of a tough situation?" His hands flew into his back pockets and her eyes widened when she realized what he had took out; in his ringed hands were something that looked like a pair of orange dynamite. She visibly gulped and hardened her gaze while pulling out her gloves, tugging them on quickly, and taking a cautious step back with Tsuna by her side. Gokudera's eyes were dangerously narrowed as he spoke once more, "You should just die."
Her shoulders tensed and she prepared to run off with Tsuna, but before anyone could take action, a figure jumped down from its perch on a nearby tree's brach, landing on Tsuna's bushy head of hair; a familiar baby-ish voice interrupted, "So you're Hayato Gokudera. This has to be the first time I meet you face-to-face." The boy he was standing on let out a cry of confusion; she was also confused. How did Reborn know him? Craning her neck, she spotted Reborn—in all his weird-cute-mafia glory—standing on Tsuna's head as if it were the most natural thing to do. The baby continued, hands clasped behind his back—even if he wasn't looking directly at her, he answered her unvoiced question, "I had him summoned from Italy with permission from the Vongola."
"And you're Reborn," the silver-haired boy replied with a hard face, "I've heard stories about you and how you're the ninth's most trusted hitman, but I never got a chance to meet you in person, either." Her emerald eyes trailed over to the baby with raised eye brows; most trusted hitman? So he's even more dangerous than I thought. She mentally snorted; now would be the right time to say, 'never judge a book by its cover.'
"There was a rule I heard," Gokudera said coldly, turning his gaze to the trembling boy; the look in his eyes made her tense up once more, "That if I were to kill him...I'd take his place as the tenth Vongola boss." KILL? Gritting her teeth, she pulled Tsuna behind her and glared fiercely, eying him out as he tightened his grip on the dynamite. She mentally growled; he wouldn't dare. If he thought killing him would be easy as pie, then he had another thing coming—if he wanted Tsuna, he had to go through her first!
"What? No! Reborn, I-I thought you said you came here to train me! We're you lying this whole time?" The boy behind her yelped.
"No, I wasn't lying. But if you want to live, I suggest you fight back."
She prepared for any hit that was coming her way when she saw Gokudera take a step forward while Tsuna continued to panic, "Are you joking? I can't fight the mafia!" Before she knew it, she was being pulled by him, his hand grasping her wrist tightly as they ran as fast as they could and away from Reborn and Gokudera, who stood in their previous spot and watched as the two run. Suddenly, she heard something sizzling whiz above their heads—her eyes widened at the sight of the burning stick of dynamite a few feet away. Not wanting to get injured, she skidded to a halt, making Tsuna yell out in surprise and causing him to fall to the ground, off-balance—unfortunately, that caused her to fall to.
"Ouch..." she said, rubbing her scraped chin tenderly. The brunette was propped up on his elbows right next to her, staring at the spot where they would've been to blown death if Sakura hadn't stopped. Pushing herself off the ground, she quickly fixed her bag over her shoulder (she was too preoccupied with surviving to heal her injured chin) and took a defensive stance next to Tsuna, who had scrambled to his feet with fear etched into his features after looking over his shoulders to see the other boy advancing towards them with even more dynamite in hand. She bit her lip—Gokudera wasn't going to let them run off so easily.
"So he specializes in dynamite and explosions," she muttered to herself, taking in the new information and thinking up strategies on battling him without killing him. In order to kill, he had to throw a lit dynamite stick at the right time or else his plan would fail. If he became careless (which she doubted he would, seeing as he was a hitman), it could lead to him killing himself or killing innocent people. Unable to play in wet weather due to the water snuffing it out. With each idea, his steps became closer, and he stopped when he was looming over them.
Through her peripheral vision, Reborn took the empty space next to Tsuna, "As Sakura said, Gokudera's specialty lies in the explosions field; his body littered with concealed dynamite." She immediately took mental notes, keeping the newly-acquired information in her head.
The taller boy stood proudly with a small smirk, "Back in Italy, I was known as 'Hurricane Bomb Hayato.' Now...prepare to die." That was all she needed; hearing the dynamite light themselves (how the hell does it do that?), she snatched the boy next to her by his collar, throwing his arm over her shoulder and holding him tightly before sprinting towards the building besides them. Behind her, she heard Gokudera swear, followed by the sound of sizzling—the dynamite landed a few feet back and exploded on impact, the explosion causing her to be blown towards the wall. Next to her, Tsuna screamed.
But instead of hitting the wall face-first, she stuck her foot out and concentrated on sending chakra to her feet; as soon as it made contact with the cement of the building, she ran up and defied gravity—unfortunately, the explosions did not waver, following her close behind one after another. She saw Tsuna gawking at her (he had said something like, "How are you doing this?" but she couldn't really tell with all the noise) but she brushed if off to make a sharp right turn. She inwardly cheered; an escape! She could roof jump away, and the plan was bullet-proof—no one got hurt, it was the safest way... until a close-to-exploding dynamite landed in her line of sight. She blanched; he's got the timing right—damn, this was going to be harder than I thought.
"Crap!"
Instead of back-tracking like she had originally planned, she was a few seconds too late and the dynamite exploded (it was a wonder how it did not leave a scratch on the building), making her lose her balance and, ultimately, her concentration. Her foot slipped underneath her; in the next few moments, she had found herself falling from the sky with the brunette clutching onto her for dear life—not only that, but the other boy below had thrown at least eight more dynamite in the air and towards her. Oh no, oh no, oh no...
Holding onto Tsuna's arm and shoulder, she quickly weaved through the explosions (some nearly blowing her head off in the process) and landed softly on her feet and onto the ground below, her brow furrowed and her face scrunched up in concentration; he almost got me...
They didn't even have time to rest—Gokudera had suddenly appeared before them with even more dynamite in his hands (she mentally pursed her lips; just how many dynamite did he have, anyway? Surely there wouldn't be that much...), trapping them between him and the wall and looking even more ticked off than before, "I'll make sure to end you with this!" With that, he threw the lit sticks.
She was about to make a run for it again when the boy next to her nearly flew into the sticks, yelling out, "No, no! Put them out!"
Her eye twitched; not with your bare hands, idiot! But he did, and a few seconds after covering the sizzling line, he pulled back with red hands that were probably stinging and burning; tears began to form at the corner of his eyes, screaming about how hot it was. She resisted the urge to let out a, 'no duh!' but it wasn't the time to think about such frivolities. Her brow knitted together in frustration; if they didn't move now, they were sure to become chunks of skin, muscle, organs and blood on the floor—if they were to run in any direction, Gokudera was sure to trap them again with his dynamites, and even if she ran up the wall, he'd still trap them. She bit her lip; damn, think, Sakura, think!
"Oh? What kinds of fireworks are these? There aren't any festivals being celebrated right now." Her head whipped to the side (Tsuna did also), only for her jaw to drop when she saw Yamamoto, who stood with his head tilted in curiosity as he eyed a sizzling orange stick in his hands—HOLY COW, THAT WAS A DYNAMITE! Next to her, Tsuna seemed to voice her inner opinion with a, "YAMAMOTO, DON'T HOLD ONTO THAAAAAT!"
Something whizzed in the air—and Sakura knew it was certainly not the dynamite, for there were no sizzling accompanying the object. And then, Tsuna had suddenly dropped to the floor beside her. She let out a sigh of relief—that could only mean one thing; he was shot with the Deathperation bullet. After a few more moments of lying on the ground, he had lifted himself up, his clothes burning off in the process (she wondered why that always happened; it probably had something to do with the flame on his forehead) and clenched his fists near his face, pupils small and his aura changing.
"I'll put out those dynamite as if my life depended on it!" Almost immediately, he began to snuff out the lit dynamite with his bare hands, starting with the one Yamamoto had in his hands and catching the dark-haired boy off guard. She tilted her head to the side, eyes gazing at Yamamoto in question as he watched Tsuna quickly work to put out the dynamite—Gokudera had chalked up twice as much explosives he had last time and threw it at the brunette. Wasn't Yamamoto suspicious about all of this?
"Hey Sakura, is this some kind of game?" She blinked at the boy next to her, who stood watching the event play out in front of him with his amber eyes lit up in fascination and excitement; right now, Tsuna had finished the second batch of explosives and the silver-haired boy brought out even more, his face scrunched up in anger. Looking back at the tall boy with a small, nervous smile, she lied through her teeth in hopes that he wouldn't tell anyone about what was happening or else others would get suspicious, "Y-Yeah! Tsuna and Gokudera-san were playing a game earlier and right now, I think...uhm, Tsuna is winning...?" Great lying skills, Sakura.
For a moment, he stayed silent, and Sakura began to fidget skittishly with the hems of her skirt; what if he didn't believe her lie? It wasn't a very good lie, she knew that, but it was all she could think of at the moment. She gulped before biting her lip; what was wrong with him? Why was he so quiet? Her mind began to fill up with the worst case scenarios: Yamamoto telling the teachers, Yamamoto telling the authorities, Yamamoto telling the teachers and the authorities...the list went on and on and with each scenario, her fear grew. What would happen if—
"Haha, that looks fun!" Before she could stop him, the tall boy stalked off in the direction of the two boys—the Deathperation shot had already worn off, rendering Tsuna back to his old self while Gokudera was on his knees, his face lit up with a big smile (she admitted when he wasn't scowling, he looked even cuter) and wide, dreamy eyes, his mouth moving but she wasn't able to hear at such a distance. Enhancing her hearing with a small amount of chakra, she slowly made her way over to them, concentrating on their conversation.
"B-Boss! My life is in your hands—you saved my life, even if I was the enemy. You really do deserve the title as a Vongola Boss," Gokudera said, causing Tsuna to become puzzled at his exclamation, "I was just testing your abilities, to see if you were capable of taking the title. I never intended to kill you anyway. But you exeeded my expectations completely! I, Hayato Gokudera, will be of service to you whenever you want!" Her eye brows shot up to her hairline as she got closer, her chakra receding from her ears since she was already at a good hearing distance. So he had no intention of killing Tsuna? That's good to hear as long as he doesn't cause anymore trouble...
"B-But...that's a bit too much, Gokudera-kun! Can't we just settle for being classmates instead?"
The boy's emerald eyes narrowed dangerously, "No." Softly giggling to herself at his blunt statement, she remembered Tsuna had burnt himself earlier from the first dynamite he had tried to snuff out and ran to him, crouching to his height and grabbing his hands for examination. She ignored Tsuna's flushed cry of, "Sakura-chan, what are you doing?" and Gokudera's outburst of, "Oi, pinky, what are you doing with boss?" and continued to look at his hands; the burns on them weren't so bad, the skin being red, and would be easy for her to heal. Summoning chakra to her hands—which were still gently holding onto Tsuna's—she concentrated on healing the inflammation and lowering the slight swelling. The silver-haired boy made a sharp intake of breath.
"T-That's...isn't that Tsunade-hime's (her master's name rolled awkwardly off of his tongue) legendary medical ninjutsu...?" Sakura's eyes widened a fraction in surprise, her head lifting up to see a gawking silver-haired boy that stared at her glowing hands—she was about to reply when he continued, "How do you know such a technique? The last time I heard, she was sent away on a mission by the ninth."
"It is her technique," she smiled proudly, taking her hands away from Tsuna's. The said boy expected it with a few clenching and un-clenching before staring at her with amazed eyes and a grateful smile. "She taught it to me herself."
She stood up, dusting her skirt off of any dirt and offered a hand to Tsuna, who gratefully accepted with his face still slack-jawed in awe; they probably had a lot of questions, and she was willing to answer...just on another day. She really needed a shower. To her surprise, Reborn once again landed (out of nowhere, she noted to herself) on the brunette's head with a notebook and pen out, "You did great today Tsuna—not only did Gokudera become one of you soldiers, but you didn't rely on the Deathperation shot. And because of that, you passed for the day."
"Hey Tsuna, you have to let me in on your game! You guys look like you're having so much fun!" Through her peripheral vision, Yamamoto—who was watching from the sidelines in slight confusion—slung an arm around the brunette's shoulders with a mirth-filled smile plastered on his face, causing the shorter boy to nearly topple over at the sudden weight. As Gokudera began to demand what the taller boy was talking about and why he was so friendly with Tsuna, she giggled and sweatdropped at the same time, an awkward smile lacing her pale features; she had forgotten about Yamamoto, and the thought of telling Tsuna and Gokudera about this little 'game' did not seem to cross her. She sighed—oh well. Hopefully nothing else could go wrong.
"Oh? Sakura, do you want to play, too?" Blinking, she brought her gaze up and was met with stares—brown eyes eying her apologetically (for reasons unknown, probably because Yamamoto had dragged her into the 'game' conflict), amber eyes staring back at her with excitement, and emerald eyes gazing at her in irritation. For a moment, she debated on whether or not she should answer. And so, as a small smile made it's way to her face, she nodded happily—which startled Tsuna and Gokudera—pink hair bouncing as she did so, "Of course! But Yamamoto-kun, I've kind of been playing since the beginning."
She awaited their reactions: Tsuna's face relaxed into a small smile, eying her gratefully; Yamamoto blinked before breaking out in a fit of satisfied laughs; Gokudera's lips twitched into a small scowl. Remembering about her current situation—which was very urgent; smelling like trash was not feminine, and would never be in a million years—she giggled one last time before spinning on her heels and sprinting away, looking over her shoulder and waving her hand in the air as she did so, "I gotta go! I'll see you three tomorrow!"
Not waiting for their response, she turned a corner and smiled to herself softly, running towards the direction of her house; well, maybe things wouldn't turn out bad after all. She missed the pair of eyes that gazed at her sharply, watching her retreating form become smaller until she disappeared altogether.
I haven't said this in the last chapter, but I greatly appreciate all your reviews—and I thank all of you for reading my fanfic. Right now, I have over 400 hits, and I was completely ectastic to discover that! So yeah, thank you all, :) Also, I deeply apologize with the lack of romance as of right now, ;-; I'm not really a good romance writer, but I try my best to make them. Keep on the look out for the next chapter—I don't know when I'll be finished with it since I'm starting school next week (wish me luck~), but hopefully I'll still be able to update as much as I can.
(I do not own Naruto or Katekyo Hitman Reborn—I simply make fanfiction for them.)