OpalescentGold: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Haunt
This is what was.
Italy
The first thing Noriko does is book a plane to Italy. She doesn't bother using false identities or concealing her paper trail. There's no point.
As for the money, well, she's been building a decent amount in a bank account she convinced her parents to open when she was five.
On the plane, Noriko leans back against her uncomfortable seat and rubs at her temples. Some part of her knows that she's being irrational, stupid. The rest of her doesn't care.
"Be more careful this time around. You've always been regrettably soft when it comes to - "
"I know," she whispers to herself, so soft she almost can't hear herself. "I know."
Noriko closes her eyes and dreams.
Flame
Cynthia is born the third daughter of the Boss of the Cervello Famiglia and a powerful Countess. Her older sisters are natural powerhouses, burning Suns.
"I don't know what happened," her father murmurs when he thinks Cynthia can't hear him. "The tutors say that she's not a Sun at all."
Her mother wrings her hands. "I'm so sorry," she says like it's her fault. "Is there any way we can change - "
"No, Flame Type is innate." Her father frowns thoughtfully. "Our doctors think it's some kind of peculiarity."
"A peculiarity? Like Miss Sarah's shape-shifting?"
"Yes. She doesn't have any Flames at all."
"Then what...what's that silver light? What can she do?"
"They don't know yet. It's something new. Something this world has never seen before. They're calling her a Moon."
Elena
Cynthia meets Elena at a ball when they're both ten. Or rather, she's reading a book in the corner when a shadow falls over her.
"Psst!" A pretty girl with blonde hair and blue eyes smiles brightly at her. "That's a good book."
Cynthia blinks. "...it is."
"I'm Elena," she says, holding out a hand. "What's your name?"
"...Cynthia."
"You have beautiful hair," Elena compliments, smiling at the locks of pale pink that her mother considers an eyesore and her sisters think of as babyish. "Can I braid it?"
Cynthia wrinkles her forehead, hesitant. "...okay?"
Elena beams. "Excellent!" Completely disregarding her expensive gold dress, the other girl falls to the floor beside her and begins to comb her hands through her hair.
And, somehow, in-between discussing good literature, lamenting strict fathers, and braiding each others' hair, they become best friends.
Centuries later, and Noriko still isn't quite sure how it happened.
Destruction
When Cynthia is fourteen, a rival famiglia has had enough of her father's contempt and dismissals. It's pure luck that she is at Elena's mansion that night, indulging in the first sleepover her parents have allowed.
The rest of the relatively small Cervello Famiglia isn't nearly so lucky. In the span of eight hours, Cynthia becomes an orphan.
Cynthia cries into Elena's shoulder. Upon hearing of the circumstances, the Duke and Duchess are gracious enough to allow their daughter's best friend to stay with them until she is ready to leave.
Weeks later, when the allies of the former Cervello Famiglia drag the Boss responsible for the destruction of her Famiglia in front of her and force him onto his knees, Cynthia casts her first Judgment.
Vigilantes
Cynthia finds her Sky in charismatic, accepting Giotto. Elena finds her life's purpose in the rising, developing Vongola.
They both have their respective talents.
At seventeen, Cynthia's powers have grown to the point that she has become widely known as an impartial and fair Arbiter throughout Italy.
Elena connects with the people they seek to help, heart to heart, all but overflowing with compassion. The children flock to her, the adults confess to her.
Meeting
"Oh, Cynthia, you won't believe who I met at the ball today." Elena sighs dreamily, hands clasped to her chest.
"The love of your life," Cynthia deadpans.
Elena blushes crimson and throws a pillow at her. "Cynthia!"
"What? From the look on your face, I'd say I was right." She dodges the pillow.
"Daemon is not the love of my life."
"Not yet." Cynthia smiles knowingly.
She gets another pillow thrown at her for her efforts. "It's not like that," Elena huffs. "It's just...I've never met another person who shares my beliefs so much. Even you don't, and you're my best friend!"
Cynthia laughs. "I'm the Judge, Elena, I can't be biased."
"I know, I know."
"Introduce me later," she suggests, penning a letter to Giotto. "I'll have to do the customary don't-you-dare-hurt-her routine."
"We're not even courting!"
"Whatever you say..."
Headquarters
Noriko jolts awake with a gasp and promptly winces as the jack-hammering in her head resumes. This headache is going to develop into a migraine soon.
Before leaving the airport, she ducks into the women's bathroom and splashes water on her face. After the tear-tracks are no longer visible, she walks out and hails a cab.
"Where to?"
The address slips off her tongue easily. She doesn't hesitate for a second.
Fifty minutes later, Noriko pays her driver and steps out. Her smile is easy, natural. No one questions her presence as she begins to walk down the busy streets. Over two blocks, a turn to the left, forward for five blocks, and around the corner.
It's warm, here, much warmer than Namimori.
A breeze blows back her hair, platinum instead of rose. In the store windows, her eyes are blue-grey, not silver. Her skin is pale, not almost pearly, like it was in Cynthia's last years. She wears a simple blue sundress rather than flowing white robes.
Noriko stops a block away from the Vongola Headquarters. And she smiles coldly.