He woke up, which in and of itself was confusing. More confusing to him were the changes in his body. A trip to the bathroom revealed that he seemed to be five years old. Again? Tsuna eyed himself carefully in the mirror as he realized he had managed the trip without once ever teetering on the brink of having one of his customary clumsy moments.

Had it all been a very vivid dream? Reborn, Gokudera, the mafia?

His mother gave him a bright smile when he entered the kitchen, and served him breakfast when he sat down. Right then, at the moment, he was happy to see her, her cheerfulness not bothering him as it usually did.

Usually?

Why did he feel so illogically mature? And since when did he use words like illogically?

Life was amazingly boring at five years old, he discovered. His not so subtle hints in an attempt to get his mother to buy a gaming console went ignored, so he spent a lot of time in the local library doing something he normally hated: reading.

Why did he hate it so much?

After all, he was having a good time in the library. Seriously, what the hell was up with that dream?

. . .

His mother was acting very strangely. She was humming constantly and cooking way too much food. Was she a purveyor of fine medicinal plants?

Wait—how did he—the dream, of course. Still… What was going on?

Every so often his mother would take something from her pocket, gaze happily at it, then tuck it away. Unfortunately, he was never close enough to see exactly what it was.

"Kaa-san?" he asked uncertainly. "Is something…?"

"Oh, my little Tsu-kun!" she chirped. "Daddy's coming for a visit!"

He blinked, and again. He wasn't even sure what his father looked like. "Okay," he said with a shrug, then wandered off to go read.

Unfortunately, when his so-called father arrived, accompanied by an old man referred to as Nono—his brain started making associations, but that Reborn chibi had never showed him a picture, so he could not be certain—he was climbing a tree.

His father's loud and boisterous "greeting" startled him so badly he lost his grip. He fell, scared out of his mind at the thought of hitting the ground from so high up with such a fragile body. The world was suddenly tinted with a haze of amber-orange. Sadly, the delightful colouration of world did nothing to cushion his landing.

When he opened his eyes it was to see his so-called father peering down at him, his expression a mixture of worry and annoyance. 'How odd,' he thought. 'I annoy him?'

The old man's face came into view, and before Tsuna could do anything, a finger was aimed at his forehead, alight with orange flames. The expression of resigned sadness did nothing to appease his rapidly growing anxiousness.

. . .

When he woke up he realized the world had dulled.

What had happened? The old man—the ninth Vongola boss?—had Sky Flames, presumably, given the colour, but…

Why was his brain so sluggish? Why did he feel so cold?

Tsuna rolled out of bed and landed with a thump on the floor, his legs having refused to work quite right.

'I remember this…?' he thought. 'This is—those bastards. They caused it?'

His days were then a vague and translucent repeat of his memories of his first childhood. Though, the only thing he remembered with clarity of his younger years was an episode where his so-called father had tossed him into the air repeatedly, despite his terrified shrieking, and had eventually missed catching him. The rest of that memory was lost to what he now realized was a haze of "magic water".

His fury was like a tsunami, but the breakwater of whatever was done to him cut off any avenues aside from a twisted expression.

. . .

Being chased by bullies was nothing new. Being chased straight into heavy traffic…? He would forever remember the feeling of being hit by a car and catapulted into the side of a building, the sound of his bones snapping under the impact and the feeling of all the air leaving his body, never to come back.