Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
A/N: Oh, wow, this took me forever. I put everything else on hold for this. This is the longest chapter I've ever written! I don't have a beta, so please forgive any mistakes.
Thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed! Your support means so much!
I hope everyone enjoys!
Hyacinth Potter opened her eyes and was overwhelmed by orange.
It was a light, creamy orange, as far as oranges go, so it wasn't quite so bad. She'd have to wonder what kind of torture she was being subjected to if it had been a Chuddley Cannons shade of orange – that mind-numbing shade that was truly a most unfortunate coincidence for Ron. Orange never looked good on redheads, and yet the Weasley boy refused to give up the shirt of his favorite quidditch team. He wore it all the time, much to everyone's amusement (and their eyes' horror).
Hyacinth had always been more of a classical white walls kind of person, but she found that she did not mind the creamy orange ceiling that much. In fact, she quite liked it.
Was this the influence of her seven-year-old self, perhaps? Or did she actually like creamy orange walls when she was an adult but never had the opportunity to discover it?
But more importantly- who owned creamy orange walls anyway?
Bringing one surprisingly small hand into her line of vision, Hyacinth stared. The hand was so tiny, so- so delicate-looking. It wasn't rough, or calloused, or scarred like the hands of her adult body were. It was baby-smooth, completely unblemished, and had nails in a rather garish pink color with butterflies and glitter on them.
I've really become a child again…
So it wasn't all just a strange dream. She really had died, really had met (and had tea with) Death, really had found out she was its Mistress, and really had been sent into the seven year old body of her parallel self in order to correct some mysterious imbalance in this world.
Even by her standards, this was all very strange.
But not the strangest thing that had ever happened to her.
She felt this would have been much more efficient if Death had told her exactly what imbalance the being wanted her to correct. She'd also have appreciated some sort of information about her circumstances in this world. Would she have to claim spontaneous amnesia to explain her lack of recognition of things? How could she explain a sudden change in personality – for even if seven year olds were young they still had distinct personalities – to those close to her? Well, she supposed it was better than being completely reincarnated and feeling herself be given birth to. She was sure that would have been traumatizing on so many levels. Knowing her luck, she was almost surprised it hadn't happened.
Then again, knowing her luck her parallel self had been kidnapped and she woke up just in time to be sold into slavery or some other horrible thing.
At that macabre thought, the instincts honed by years of being enemy number one to a terrorist group turned war faction kicked in, and Hyacinth's brain strapped into high gear and started working at twice the rate.
She was in an unfamiliar place. She had never seen the creamy orange ceiling before.
She was in a bed. The fluffy softness of the pillow beneath her head and the delicious comfort of cotton sheets above her told her this could only be a bed.
She was not chained. She was all too familiar with the weight of metal, or the roughness of rope, that would dig into her ankles and wrists. But nothing was holding her down. In fact, she was currently inelegantly and comfortably sprawled in bed.
It was too late to feign sleep. She had already opened her eyes to look at the creamy orange ceiling, as well as brought her hand up like an absolute idiot. Whoever had potentially kidnapped her had probably seen this and so it would do her no good to pretend to still be unconscious.
Hyacinth sent a silent prayer that Moody had better things to do in the afterlife and hadn't witnessed her blunder. If he'd known she'd amateurishly blown her cover by not only opening her eyes but also moving her hand he'd probably kill her while shouting 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE'. And then he'd berate her for allowing him to kill her and bring her back to life just to kill her again. Yes, her teacher was that insane.
He was one of those lovely cases were the cover of the book matched its insides to the tee.
With quick movements, Hyacinth sat up in the bed, and felt her entire world tilt sideways.
Damn it. Hyacinth shut her eyes in pain. She had the mother of all headaches. She was fairly sure there were two hippogriffs trying to tapdance between her ears.
When she finally got herself under control, Hyacinth slowly looked around. She figured if she hadn't been attacked in the two minutes she had spent cradling her pounding head between her hands, she wouldn't be attacked now.
She was safe here. For now.
But where is here? Hyacinth wondered.
The walls matched the ceiling, all covered in the same shade of warm, creamy orange.
The bed she was sitting on was a soft white, and extremely comfortable. Lying next to her were more stuffed toys than she could count. Everything from the normal stuffed bears and stuffed rabbits to the magical stuffed unicorn and stuffed Pegasus to the more eccentric stuffed hippopotamus and stuffed proboscis monkey (whose technical name she only recognized because Draco had thought it was a magical creature mistaken for a muggle one when she convinced him to go to the muggle zoo with her).
Actually, the proboscis monkey went beyond eccentric and straight to ugly, with its disproportionately huge nose… and yet, the more she stared at the stuffed creature the more he endeared himself to her. She wasn't sure if he was hideous or cute. He seemed to be ugly to the point of being cute. How fascinating.
She'd donate the stuffed animals as soon as she could, but perhaps she'd keep the big-nosed monkey.
Managing to tear her eyes away from the monkey, Hyacinth continued looking around the room.
As she eyed the floor, she could barely see what it was made of as it was hidden behind a veritable mess. The kind of mess the Weasley family would be proud of. Clothes, books, papers, shoes, and a myriad of other things littered the floor. Hyacinth was appalled at the same time as she wondered what kind of life her alternate self had led. Hyacinth had never been allowed to be messy – in fact at the Dursleys's she had had to clean up other people's mess; Dudley and Vernon were not pigs in appearance only; they had the living habits of the mud-dwelling creatures as well. And Petunia needed everything to be spotless. Hyacinth just got used to it and never even made a mess once she left the Dursley home and lived at Hogwarts, away from Petunia's watchful eye, or once she finally got her own apartment. For as long as she could remember she had always been neat and organized.
The soldier couldn't help but eye her room critically. It would make it very difficult to slip out of the room unheard should an intruder invade her home, as she couldn't step anywhere without stepping on something and making a noise, no matter how light-footed she was. It could also cost her a few seconds in getting out, and sometimes a few seconds were all that were needed.
At least the messy room meant that the her from this dimension wasn't treated as a glorified house-elf. She was allowed to be messy.
Although this pigsty will have to go, Hyacinth thought. The girl couldn't live in these conditions. She had never been like Dumbledore, with all his baubles and gadgets all over the place that created an – admittedly fascinating – mess. She was more like Hermione in that aspect – she wanted things clean and organized, almost military. Well, at least her living space should be clean and organized.
Her life in general was a whole different story.
Suppressing the urge to begin cleaning now, Hyacinth continued observing.
On the opposite side of the bed stood a bookcase full of CDs and books. The books seemed to mostly be comprised of graphic novels, if the illustrations she saw on some of them were any indication. Unlike the few graphic novels she had seen, however, these were in black and white.
The shadow of a memory whispered to her that they were called 'mangas'.
There were more mangas carelessly piled upon the floor in a haphazard manner than there were in the bookcase. Oh dear, if Hermione could see this she'd have a fit. Graphic novels or not, they were still books ("and should be treated with absolute respect, Hyacinth, honestly. Now if I see you throwing another book around like it's a bloody quaffle again I will have your hide, Girl-Who-Lived or not!")
To the right of Hyacinth's bed was a wooden armoire, complete with oval mirror and a small jewelry box. If Hyacinth looked around, she could detect the telltale shine from some of the jewelry on the floor. Honestly, it was a wonder her alternate self had any possessions at all if she treated them all this way.
Resist, Hyacinth. First understand exactly where it is you are and your circumstances. Then you can clean.
Beside the armoire was a traditional wooden desk. On it were piles of papers messily laid out, as well as two textbooks. A working lamp stood on top of it. From the little that Hyacinth could see under the papers and books, she felt that she'd like the desk once she tidied it up.
A brief shiver overtook her as a memory of all the paperwork she had to deal with as Minister of Magic came to her. At least she'd never have to deal with paperwork again.
On one of the room's walls hung a small rectangular mirror, a childish drawing, and…
And there were posters. Tens of posters. Boy band posters.
Posters of teenage boys in leather and with boyish hairstyles with boyish grins on their boyish faces.
They covered so much of the wall behind the desk you could hardly see the orange underneath.
No.
This would not be borne.
Hyacinth was almost thirty; she would not have boy band posters in her room. She refused.
Well, perhaps she wasn't almost thirty any longer. She wasn't even almost thirteen. But she had been almost thirty. The principle was the same.
No boy band posters.
Her pride couldn't bear it.
With purposeful movements seen only on those single-minded people who have no time for anything but their chosen mission (in this case to remove the posters from her sight, and perhaps from existence), Hyacinth got up from the comfy bed.
And nearly fell flat on her face.
Lying on the ground, face centimeters from the wooden floor, saved only by quick reflexes that made her hands shoot out in front of her to brace her fall, Hyacinth waited once again for her head to stop spinning.
She had completely misjudged how far away the floor was from her feet. Remembering her longer adult legs, she had overreached and been surprised when it took a few seconds for her feet to reach the floor.
A child's body would certainly take some getting used to.
Hyacinth sighed as she anticipated all the future moments of clumsiness the world had in store for her as she got used to her new, smaller body.
What did seven-year-olds even look like again?
What did she look like?
Hyacinth was by no means vain (war had a tendency to make anything but comradesdeathvictorylife superfluous, and she had too many scars for anything resembling vanity), but she really hoped she wasn't repugnant, either.
A small part of her told her she was simply afraid to see the last things she had to remember her parents by gone – no messy black hair and aristocratic nose from her father, no striking green eyes and oval face from her mother – but Hyacinth pushed that part of her away, and told herself she was just afraid of looking ugly.
With increasing trepidation, Hyacinth moved towards the armoire's mirror in order to get a look at her new, alternate body.
As she arrived in front of the mirror, she froze.
Merlin, I'm adorable.
Staring at her from the mirror was the cutest child Hyacinth had ever seen (after Teddy, of course, but then she didn't think anyone was as cute as her godson).
Standing there, looking at her, was a young girl with soft brown hair that reached her shoulders and seemed to stick up in fluffy bursts of its own will. Her skin was smooth, not one blemish to be seen and as pale as the moon except for two permanent flushes of pink over high cheekbones. The girl's doe eyes were a warm caramel color with intriguing orange flecks in them. Her eyes were big, their golden highlights framed by long, dark eyelashes. Overall, the young girl looked like a porcelain doll. Or Bambi given human form.
Tearing her gaze away from her face, Hyacinth surveyed the rest of her body.
The rest of her was also small and delicate-looking. Frail, Hyacinth thought. That would have to change. Hyacinth had started intense training sessions while still fighting in the war, and had simply never stopped, even after all the Death Eaters were defeated and she had a horrible desk job (Minister of Magic involved so much paperwork). She liked to keep fit and ready, just in case something happened again. With the Potter luck, something always did.
Hyacinth made a mental note to test the limits of this body and set up a training schedule as soon as possible.
Looking at what she was wearing, Hyacinth winced. She'd have to add 'buying new clothes' to that mental note. At the very least new pajamas. The one she was wearing right now consisted of a frilly pink nightgown with kittens on it. She could almost physically see her pride shriveling up.
Hyacinth could deal with the kittens, but the frills had to go.
Making her way to her closet, Hyacinth opened it only to find more frilly dresses. Hyacinth sighed; war hero, Minister of Magic, and apparently Mistress of Death, yet she was still subjected to frilly pink dresses. Even had they known of her history people would be hard-pressed to take her seriously. Somehow, Hyacinth was sure this was Fate's fault somehow.
Hyacinth definitely would have to procure new clothes. The only clothes she could find that were frill-less were a series of what appeared to be identical uniforms consisting of a white shirt and grey skirt, presumably for school.
School. Hyacinth would have to spend years at school again. And elementary school, at that. Idly, Hyacinth remembered being chased by Dudley's gang when she was younger. Remembered having any potential friends be scared away by Dudley. Her aunt and uncle telling the entire neighborhood that she was a little delinquent, making them never invite her over to birthday parties. Giving up on getting good grades once she realized that whenever she got a better score than Dudley (which wasn't hard), she'd be accused of cheating.
The young, uncertain child from that time seemed so foreign to her now.
Well, she supposed it was time to make better memories of elementary school. But the idea of dealing with young children on a daily basis was not a pleasant one. And having to pretend to be one would be brutal.
Hyacinth turned to her desk, trying to find clues as to what her alternate child self was like. Looking at the papers strewn over the desk, she realized one of them was a test. Picking it up, she noticed half of it was blank, the other half with mostly incorrect answers written in a messy, barely legible scrawl. The grade was a pitiful 33%.
Hyacinth frowned. That would also have to change. Hyacinth finally had the opportunity to be a good student, to do things well; she wasn't about to allow herself to get 33 points on tests. Especially not elementary school tests. Her pride wouldn't allow it. And Hermione just might find a way to nag her about it from a parallel dimension if she ever found out (which she would. The girl had a sixth sense for these things; she could smell a bad grade like a dog could a bone. It was frankly rather terrifying.)
And Hyacinth wasintelligent. She had just not been used to actually showing it too often as a child. Showing she was intelligent would simply lead to more yelling from the Dursleys, so Hyacinth had severely downplayed her abilities in elementary, and by the time she got into Hogwarts she was so used to doing so that she didn't stop. Her friendship with Ron certainly didn't help matters. Thankfully, Hermione and Draco had managed to break the bad habit before the end of their Hogwarts years, and Hyacinth aced all her NEWTS.
Belatedly, Hyacinth realized that the questions and answers on her alternate child self's test were written in foreign characters. Hyacinth recognized this as Japanese form of writing. The young now brunette could speak a few languages (a happy consequence of being Minister of Magic for several years and having an Italian lover), but Japanese was definitely not one of them. Yet, somehow, Hyacinth understood every word.
Well, at least Death had not left her completely helpless. It appeared the knowledge from her alternate child self was still there, and could be accessed. Hyacinth chuckled in relief. At least she wouldn't have to learn a new language, or customs, or whatnot – or explain her sudden lack of knowledge about them.
Hyacinth looked at the top right corner of the test. There, in nearly illegible characters, was the name Sawada Tsunako.
So my name is Tsunako, now… Hyacinth laughed, At least it's not quite as much of a mouthful as Hyacinth, but perhaps a shorter name would be better.
Hyacinth – no, Tsunako – looked at the rest of the papers on the desk only to find more failing tests in Japanese, Japanese History, Math, and Science (the latter two being by far the worst grades) as well as several blank homework assignments. Passing an errant glance over the homework questions, Hyacinth was relieved to find that she knew the answer to almost all of them, the only exception being the Japanese History ones. She'd review it soon and be caught up, however.
Tsunako got up and started searching the room for a journal or diary of some sort that could help her figure out exactly whom she was and what she was like in this world, but she didn't get the opportunity to.
For in the next second everything changed.
"Tsu-chan! Breakfast is ready!" A warm, motherly voice called from beyond the bedroom door. "Come quickly or it's going to get cold~"
At the sound of the voice, Tsunako froze.
The young girl was assaulted with foreign – yet so, so intensely familiar – images that flashed through her eyes and seared her brain.
She's at school, in P.E. class. The last one to be chosen. Both teams arguing that the other should take her. Eventually, the team that has her loses. Being forced to clean the gym by herself.
Hunching in on herself as the whisperings about her grow louder. No-Good Tsuna, they're saying. Ignoring the snickers that follow her, the cruel mockery.
Creating flames from nothing in her backyard. An old man – her grandfather? – touching her forehead and making everything suddenly feel so wrong.
A blonde man – her father, but no, he isn't truly a father – getting drunk in a living room, walking around in only his boxers. A brown-haired, brown-eyed woman – a mother, a true, loving mother – laughing joyfully.
Waking up early in the morning to find her mother crying. Making a lot of noise, to warn her mother she is coming, and then helping her cook breakfast and prepare lunch in a poor attempt to comfort her.
The feeling of utter rejection as a little blonde boy – her brother! She'd never had a sibling before – shoved her away from him, making the little girl fall on her butt. All of the blonde boy's friends pointing and laughing at her.
When Tsunako managed to fight back and regain control over her body, she found herself panting on the floor, head clutched tightly in her hands.
It was not the pain from the influx of this body's memories that had her stay lying immobile on the floor, however.
It was the earth-shattering realization that-
That Hyacinth-
That Tsunako-
That the girl who had been an orphan for as long as she could remember-
That she had a family.
After taking a moment to compose herself and get ready for the day, Tsunako made her way down the stairs with shaky feet and tremulous hands. She had never had a true family before. The Dursleys had hated and abused (a word she could only use after months in therapy she had been forced to go to by Hermione) her. Her godfather was half mad and had died before she could live with him. Her Aunt Cissa and her cousin Draco had provided her with familial affection, but could not take her in due to Lucius Malfoy's alliance with the man whose dearest wish was to kill her.
How should Tsunako act with her new family? She didn't have the faintest idea how one behaved around one's mother. The families she had observed were all so different from each other. Draco acted distantly and often almost formally with his family, although there was always clear love between them. The Weasleys were the opposite; loud cries, emotional displays, and voracious hugs characterized their interactions. The Grangers were a middle ground; Hermione and her parents participated in the occasional hug, but not overly so. And Tsunako hardly felt that the joking and playful terrorizing between Isadora and Blaise was a normal mother-son interaction.
Due in part to her nervousness and largely due to her unfamiliarity with her new body, Tsunako tripped on the last steps and failed to catch herself, tumbling rather comically down the stairs.
She sent a silent prayer that Aunt Cissa hadn't seen that.
"Oi, Dame-Tsuna," jeered a blonde boy seated at the table. "Can you stop being such a loser so early in the morning? Some people are trying to eat."
Tsunako blinked owlishly at the boy, confused. She filtered through her memories and discovered that he featured in many of them – mostly during her earlier years. She found memories of them playing together as children, running around a park and passing a ball between each other. He would run after her and call her 'Onee-san', and knock on her door and invade her bed whenever he had a nightmare. Later, images of him pushing her around and forcing her to give him her lunch flashed through.
This was her younger twin brother, Sawada Yoshimune.
Tsunako grinned widely, visibly surprising the blonde boy. Tsunako had never had a sibling before. Childish excitement filled her at the thought of having someone so close, so intimate. A brother that shared her flesh and blood! An addition to her family!
Tsunako was so happy she could barely contain herself. It looked like a small sun had lit up under her skin and was causing her to glow.
Tsunako didn't notice the blonde's disgruntled reaction at her obvious joy. Yoshimune frowned confusedly. Tsuna usually just lowered her head whenever he taunted her. Perhaps she hadn't listened properly or just misunderstood him? That would be just like Dame-Tsuna.
He was just about to come up with some other insulting comment when he noticed that Tsunako was wearing her school uniform… when school wouldn't start for another two weeks.
"Why are you wearing your uniform, Dame-Tsuna?" Yoshimune mocked, "Did you forget it's summer? What an idiot!" Honestly, how was he related to someone so Dame?
Tsunako blinked twice, slowly, dazedly, before looking down as though to confirm that, indeed, she was in fact wearing her school uniform.
After Nana had called her down to breakfast, Tsuna hadn't quite known what to do. She decided to proceed with the morning routine she had back in her own dimension, taking the time to take a shower, wash and brush her hair, brush her teeth, until finally she had stood in front of her closet clad in only a towel.
She had had no idea what to wear, and looking around her room there was no calendar that could clue her in as to what day it was. Tsunako figured there was a high probability that today was a school day, so decided to wear her uniform. Apparently she was wrong.
This time when Yoshimune spoke, Tsunako managed to break out of her jubilant oh-Merlin-I-have-a-twin-brother haze enough to pay attention to the content of what he was saying.
She would blame her rather lacking answer on said family-induced haze.
"I'm just so excited to be going to school, Yoshi-kun!"
Yoshimune's jaw dropped at not only the completely illogical response from his twin sister (who he knew hated school with a fiery – or as fiery as a person like Dame-Tsuna could get – passion. And even if she did like it, who on earth put on their uniform two weeks before because they were excited to go to school?), but also at the absolutely embarrassing nickname for him that had come out of her mouth. She hadn't used that nickname in years!
Nana had overheard Tsunako's answer from the kitchen, unseen by Tsunako and her new brother, lit up like a firework. "Oh, Tsu-chan! That's so wonderful!" Tsunako heard her mother's voice from the kitchen, as well as the sound of a clap, as though her new mother had brought her hands together in pleasure. "I know you'll do much better this time, Tsu-chan! It's all about attitude!"
Tsunako froze momentarily. There it was again. That soft, dulcet voice. The kind of voice that would tell stories before you went to bed, that laughed softly at your moments of clumsiness, that said 'I love you' with such regularity it wasn't even a big was the voice of her mother.
Tsunako laughed gaily at the thought, unknowingly earning another strange look from her brother.
She had heard her mother's voice twice now. Once when she called Tsunako for breakfast, and a second time when she- when she encouraged Tsunako.
(Her mother's encouragement just ensured that Tsunako would be focusing even more on getting good grades. Anything to make her mother happy.)
Tsunako needed to see her mother's face. Yes, needed. It wasn't a want, a desire, a temptation, a decision. It wasn't something she could choose to do or not. There was no choice involved. Tsunako needed to see what her mother looked like. It was like the need for air, like Tsunako was suffocating and would continue to slowly die if she didn't get at least a glimpse of her mother.
Vaguely, Tsunako knew that she could simply filter through the memories stored in her body and find the answer. In the periphery of her vision, she was aware of a few photographs lying around the living room that would also depict the appearance of her mother.
But it wasn't enough. Tsunako needed to see her mother in person.
And yet, Tsunako stood rooted to her spot in the living room, right in front of the stairs, paralyzed. She was sure she made a strange sight for her brother. But even had she wanted to, Tsunako couldn't move. Couldn't even think about moving.
There were too many uncertainties wrecking chaos in her head.
What if Nana laid eyes on her and realized that her daughter wasn't fully her daughter anymore? Would she hate Hyacinth for changing her child? Would she hate the imposter that had taken over the body of one of the people she loved? Or- Or was the previous Tsunako not loved, was she like Hyacinth, growing up as nothing more than the family's house-elf? Was Hyacinth simply destined to never have a loving mother with her? Worse, what if Nana didn't realize that Tsunako wasn't fully Tsunako anymore, that there was a little bit of Hyacinth in there, but noticed the Hyacinth-inspired changes to her personality and decided she hated them, that she didn't love Tsunako anymore because of Hyacinth?
Tsunako didn't think she could take it. Not after everything. Not after wanting a mother for so long.
As though sensing her daughter's inner torment and deciding to put an end to it, Nana strode out of the kitchen, into the living room and into Tsunako's line of sight, carrying two plates with steaming omelets on them.
Tsunako sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her mother, accidentally inhaling the omelet's delicious aroma. A small, distant part of her mind told her it would taste even more delicious as it smelled.
But it wasn't the smell that she was thinking of.
My mother is beautiful.
Tsunako was aware that she was biased, as all children are towards their mothers. But, to her, Nana was breathtaking. Her hair was short and a dark chocolate brown, and Tsunako knew it would be soft to the touch. Her face was delicate-looking, as though she had to be handled with care. She was slim- there was no indication that she had birthed twins – and she wore a sunny yellow dress with a collar, a frilly white apron on top. Nana looked young, much younger than the presumed age of a woman who had two seven-year-olds. But there were wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, the kind of wrinkles only achieved after spending years smiling and laughing.
What was perhaps most stunning about the woman was her eyes. They weren't an exotic color or striking color like the eyes she had as Hyacinth, weren't captivating like the eyes of the magical creatures Tsunako had encountered over the years, didn't even twinkle like the eyes of Dumbledore. No, instead they were a deep chocolate brown, like Nana's hair, but there was a glimmer there, a sparkle, that seemed to melt anyone who saw it and spoke of a deep capacity to love.
This woman was warm.
This was the kind of woman who would see abandoned little children and welcome them into her home without a second thought. Who would feed strangers hot chocolate and sit on the floor next to a homeless man to give him a slice of pie and ask him about his life.
Nana reminded Tsunako of a thinner and calmer version of pre-war Molly Weasley. So giving, so intent on making sure everyone was well fed, and indisputably loving.
Tsunako closed her eyes to fight off the telltale pinprick of tears in her eyes.
Nana was exactly what she'd always wanted in a mother.
Looking at Nana again, who was now busying herself getting salt and orange juice form the kitchen and settling it on the table, Tsunako realized the woman carried herself with an air of childlike innocence, of naiveté. Her smile was a tad too wide, her way of walking constantly open to assault, even the way she talked seemed to scream 'easy target' to the soldier in Tsunako. And yet she did this with an air of such obliviousness the likes of which Tsunako had only seen in Luna (although it must be said that Luna's obliviousness was often not obliviousness at all, something her enemies soon learned on the battlefield). It was like Nana had never witnessed any of the horrors of the world, like they didn't exist even in even her wildest nightmares.
If Tsunako had anything to say about it, it would stay that way.
And Tsunako most definitely did have something to say about it.
In that moment, looking at her obliviously smiling mother and her oddly still gaping brother, Tsunako made a decision.
No one would touch her family.
Anyone who dared would be in for a very nasty surprise.
Sawada Yoshimune gaped at his sister.
No one could possibly blame him. His sister was acting so weird.
It wasn't the fact that she had put on her school uniform when they still had two weeks before school started. Nor was it that she tripped on the staircase and made a fool of herself. It wasn't even that the moment she saw their mother she completely froze and went off on a daze. Those were totally normal, Dame-Tsuna things to do.
What wasn't a normal and Dame-Tsuna thing was the way she was carrying herself.
Dame-Tsuna was still clumsy, as evidenced by her pathetic fall on the stairs, but now those moments of clumsiness didn't seem to characterize her actions in so much as they seemed to be exceptions to them.
He hadn't seen her much yet that day, in fact, all he had seen was her falling down the stairs and then talking to him a bit before she froze at the sound of their mother's voice.
But what he had seen was beyond strange.
It couldn't be quite said that Yoshimune was the sharpest tool in the box. He had good grades, always scoring above an 80, much to his mother's pride. He was also the soccer team's ace and was pretty popular at school because of it, but… he couldn't quite be described as observant.
But he had always watched his sister, often eagerly anticipating her next humiliation.
And this was too obvious to miss.
Instead of hunching in on herself, using her bangs to cover her eyes and not looking at anywhere for too long, Tsunako now stood proudly, shoulders pulled back, chin lifted up, posture done so that she was at the maximum height her rather unimpressive stature would allow her.
Beyond the way she stood was the aura she was emitting. She seemed to exude this aura of absolute comfort with oneself.
And Dame-Tsuna wasn't comfortable with her own shadow – much less with who she was.
But now there was an air of dignified serenity to her.
And her expressions.
Surprise and affection when she saw him.
Pained and frightened when she heard their mother's voice.
Desperate, like a dying man in a desert offered a drop of water, when she saw their mother appear from the kitchen.
Wonder, like she could hardly believe her eyes, after studying Nana for a few seconds.
Then, perhaps most shocking of all, steely determination, the likes of which had no business appearing on Tsunako's face.
He didn't think her face was even capable of making that expression before today.
Her eyes had become hard and cold. Yet somehow Yoshimune thought he saw a flicker of a flame reflected in their caramel depths. Her mouth was set in a grim line, posture unflinching. An intimidating darkness descended upon her, and for a second, just a second-
For a second, Yoshimune felt a shiver of fear rush down his spine.
Stop being ridiculous, Yoshimune thought to himself. This is Dame-Tsuna we're talking about. She's weak, and pathetic, and definitely not capable of making anyone afraid. Definitely not me, Yoshimune scoffed at the very idea. I imagined the whole thing.
For the rest of breakfast, a small, placid smile appeared on Tsunako's face. If Yoshimune hadn't been paying attention, he'd have thought Dame-Tsuna was daydreaming, but the intensity of her gaze under those half-hooded, firmly settled on Yoshimune and his mother, belied her appearance of inattention. She was studying them.
Stop it, you're imagining things again, Yoshimune scolded. Dame-Tsuna is being her usual Dame self, and I'm still half-asleep and making stuff up. I can't just waste my time thinking about Dame-Tsuna.
And with that final thought, Yoshimune dismissed Dame-Tsuna and started thinking about the soccer game he and his friends had later. He wouldn't think about Dame-Tsuna again for a long, long time.
For the rest of breakfast, Tsunako was silent, choosing to listen to her family's interactions instead of participating.
It had been a long time since she had acted recklessly – now she took the time to observe and actually think about things before she acted. This approach, pounded into her by an incredulous and secretly worried Draco ("Honestly, Potter, do you have to be such a bloody gryffindork? How on Merlin's magical Earth are you even still alive when you rush into every mess you can get your hands on like a headless chicken! Now sit down and at least pretend to think up a plan!"), was only cemented when the smallest of her mistakes could result in the death of dozens of her soldiers – her friends – her people.
Tsunako had quickly learned of the consequences of thoughtless actions.
From her observations over breakfast, Tsunako learned a few things about her family.
She learned that her first impression of Nana as a caring and rather air-headed woman was right on the mark. The woman spent all of breakfast with a smile on her face, simply happy to be eating with her family and talking. She also didn't notice Tsunako's silence – the girl figured this could be either due to the woman's air headedness or to the fact that Tsunako usually was silent.
Tsunako also learned that Yoshimune had a soccer competition coming up soon, and he was very excited about it. She also found out that, unlike her past self, Yoshimune was quite proficient academically, was good at several sports apart from soccer, and was fairly popular at school.
Tsunako was so proud.
Nana obviously was as well, as the woman would gush over her son's accomplishments and praise him after every sentence he finished.
But then, Tsunako got the impression that Nana would lavish the same amount of praise from winning the soccer competition as taking out the trash. Or even getting dressed.
The intentions were obviously good, though, and that was all that mattered.
Tsunako also couldn't help noticing that Yoshimune didn't seem to like her very much, if the constant barrage of insults directed her way were any indication. Sibling rivalry perhaps? She remembered that Ron had a phase where he was resentful of his older brothers.
Well, Tsunako would simply have to work on that. This was the first time she had a sibling, she wasn't about to let them have a bad relationship.
Tsunako was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of a chair screeching over the floor.
"Eh? Aren't you going to finish your breakfast?" Nana asked, although she didn't seem surprised. So Yoshimune leaving early was a normal occurrence, then.
"No, Mom, I'm going to play soccer with the guys today!" The blonde boy huffed. "I told you."
"Oh, that's wonderful! Yoshimune has so many friends!" She beamed.
"Yeah, I'm not like Dame-Tsuna. People actually like me." Yoshimune shot the silent Tsunako a superior look, which given his apparent animosity towards her was not unexpected, but what was unexpected was the small giggle Nana gave.
Shoving down the brief flash of hurt, Tsunako sighed.
She really would have to do something to mend her relationship with her brother. And perhaps her mother, as well.
Tsunako smiled.
She didn't care about her brother's dislike or her mother's apparent amusement at his insults to her.
Tsunako had a family.
All else would be resolve itself in time.
It was a little after Yoshimune had left the house, and Tsunako and her mother were doing the dishes in silence.
"M- Mama?" Tsunako cursed internally. She wasn't sure where the term had come from. The pre-Hyacinth Tsunako had called Nana 'Kaa-chan'. Tsunako knew this and had been determined to copy it in order to avoid suspicion, yet somehow the Italian word for mother had slipped out.
Perhaps it was a consequence of spending so much time with the Zabinis? This was what happened when you became best friends with your Italian lover's mother, she supposed.
Luckily, Nana was oblivious and hadn't noticed the slip.
"Do you- I-I mean, can I-" Tsunako nearly growled at herself. She never stuttered. Even when she had been living under the Dursleys, with the constant threat of being locked up in her cupboard for the entire day should she say or do something wrong, she had never stuttered. If Aunt Cissa could see her now she'd definitely receive a lecture, "Can I help you with lunch?"
Nana's eyes widened marginally - and for a second the vulnerable, orphaned part of Tsunako was afraid the woman would reject the offer - before a beatific smile erupted on the woman's face.
"Of course, Tsu-chan!" Tsunako swore she saw flowers manifest themselves behind the woman, dancing around her head gaily. Perhaps magic did exist in this dimension? "Mama's always happy to have a cute little helper!"
"Here, you can start by cutting these," Her mother – and Tsunako still got a little thrill at calling her that – cheerfully passed her some vegetables to chop up (a rather irresponsible decision to give a 7 year old a large knife on Nana's part, but Tsunako didn't notice as she had been chopping up food at the Dursleys since she was five), and they spent the rest of the morning cooking a feast for lunch.
Observing Nana's supreme comfort in the kitchen, the way she danced about it, gathering ingredients without even having to look at them, chopping things up so efficiently that had it been anyone other than Tsunako they'd have trouble even seeing her hands, somehow knowing exactly how much time to leave the sauce simmering or the fish cooking without using any sort of time-keeper, Tsunako was awed.
She suspected it already due to the delicious omelettes from breakfast, but oh my.
This woman was a cooking genius!
Even Molly hadn't been this good!
For the first time in her life, Tsunako was grateful to the Dursleys. Without them, she wouldn't have spent years cooking for a family composed of two walruses that could eat their weight twice over and a neurotic horse that would not allow even one dish to be prepared with anything other than the absolute perfection that her "Dudley Diddums deserves!".
If that hadn't been the case, Tsunako was sure she'd be too intimidated by Nana's supreme cooking skills to cook alongside her, much less be able to keep up with her.
But it had been the case, and so both Nana and Tsunako spent the rest of the day happily cooking side by side.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, covered by just enough clouds so that the heat became pleasant and not cloying. The wind had settled on a gentle breeze, not so strong as to be bothersome but not so weak as to be ineffective, refreshing all of those outdoors. The grass in the park was a vibrant green, the flowers were blooming, the birds were singing, the children laughing as they chased after each other gaily.
It was a beautiful day, and Kurokawa Hana was mad.
Not because it was a beautiful day, of course. She was much too mature to get mad at the weather, thank you very much – she wasn't like those monkeys that posed as her classmates.
No, Kurokawa Hana was mad because now, a week and a half before classes started, her mother had suddenly decided that Hana had not seen any of her friends all summer – which was grossly untrue, as she had seen Kyoko, her best friend, several times, and was forced into contact with her… exuberant brother because of it – and so had to make up for this seemingly "unhealthy isolation" in the last two weeks and socialize with other children her age.
So her mother had taken Hana to the local park.
And left her there.
Oh, Hana knew that she'd be back soon. Usually her mother would come sometime in the afternoon, but Hana had ensured that she'd come back at least for lunch, as the girl had strategically 'forgotten' her bento in her mother's car, and her mother was all kinds of evil for forcing her to spend time with the nitwits she was subjected to most of the year during one of her moments of brief respite, but she wouldn't let her daughter starve at lunch. Once she noticed the bento, she'd come to the park to hand it to Hana.
Hana planned to use every second of that interaction to plead her case to her mother on exactly why it was unacceptable to leave her at the park for even one more second.
She was going to become a lawyer in the future; she would convince her mother.
As it was, Hana had already spent the better half of the last hour evading her schoolmates and smiling through her aggravation at the complete and utter nonsense that spewed out of their mouths.
She had even forced herself to sit with a group of girls who were in her grade, so that the watching mothers in the park could report to Hana's mother next time they saw her how her daughter was socializing.
What Hana hadn't taken into account was the consequences of said act. For a full twenty minutes, Hana had been subjected to gossip on what girl had a crush on what monkey, the coolest new Barbie that had come out this summer, and the absolute "coolness and dreaminess and- and- KYAAAAAA" of Yamamoto Takeshi. And the high-pitched squeals that inevitably followed the last subject.
And she wasn't even going to talk about how the monkeys tried to get her to play with them.
Kurokawa Hana was done.
No one could accuse Hana of being a particularly patient person, and it wasn't going to start today.
Hana moved across the park with quick, perfunctory strides.
She was trying to find an isolated spot for herself where she could sit down and be left alone because she was so done dealing with screeching monkeys and their incessant demands to come play.
"Stupid monkeys! Stupid Mom! Go mingle with the other children, Hana she says. You can't spend all summer reading your books, Hana, she says. You shouldn't be so harsh on the others, Hana. Ha! She's not the one who has to deal with insufferable children with the mentalities of toddlers for most of the year! She's not the one who has to tolerate monkeys with their sticky, unwashed, spit-covered hands and mud splattered faces and never-ending idiotic babble. I can feel my IQ getting lower just by breathing the same air as them!" Hana ranted as she made her way through the park. "I bet she wouldn't last even five minutes with them! If she had to spend any time at all within hearing of their high-pitched, incessant screeching she'd award me a medal – no, sainthood! – for spending seven hours at school with them every day! I swear, if one of them lays their disgusting, sticky hands on me one more time I'll cut them clean off, separate the fingers, grind them into animal feed, travel to the zoo and feed them to the monkeys there. It'll be cannibalism! And then I'll peel of the skin from the rest of their bodies and turn them into high-end purses! I'm sure monkey hide purses will sell well somewhere. I'll claim it was self-defense. If I hadn't acted I'd have died via sheer idiocy."
Hana stopped when, after angrily shoving some bushes out of the way (which actually scratched her arms and hurt a bit, but she was too irritated to notice), she almost stumbled upon a pair of legs.
A pair of legs that was, inevitably, attached to a body.
There, sitting under the shade of a tree with her legs stretched out in front of her, was one of the girls from Hana's class.
The girl had short, fluffy brown hair that Hana had to physically rein in the urge to touch. Large, caramel eyes were framed by thick black lashes and set on high cheekbones dusted by what seemed to be permanently rosy cheeks that Hana had never seen outside of a Renoir painting. Pale, delicate limbs led to small, soft-looking hands and small, unpainted nails. To finish off the ethereal picture, she was wearing a soft blue dress with bright yellow chicks on it.
The girl vaguely reminded her of a doll.
The girl's eyes were marginally widened, probably in slight surprise at having heard Hana's impassioned rant on being forced to socialize with the idiots her age when she could be reading a perfectly good book.
And was that amusement in her eyes?
Damn, she'd probably heard everything.
The girl on the grass gave a soft laugh, like the chiming of bells, and Hana flushed in embarrassment.
And when Hana was embarrassed she usually became aggressive.
"And what are you laughing at?" Hana asked rudely, glaring at the sitting girl. Hana was confident in her intimidation skills, and soon the girl would stop laughing, start cowering, and forget about the whole embarrassing moment.
"Your irritation at our peers, mostly. And your death threats. It has been a while, since I last heard such… inventive threats." The girl said honestly, not intimidated in the slightest. Hana needed to brush up her skills if little girls with baby blue little chick dresses didn't even react to her glare. "I will admit that our classmates can be a bit… rambunctious, at times, however."
"Rambunctious?" Hana snorted. That was one word for them, though certainly not the word she'd use. "More like deathly annoying." Now that was a word she'd use.
"More like deathly for them, if your threats are any indication."
Hana snorted again, a corner of her mouth twitching in an effort to suppress an amused grin.
"Please do tell me when you plan on killing them at least a day in advance, however, so that I can be there to watch. I'll be sure to bring popcorn," The girl continued, faux-earnest. "How much does a monkey hide purse cost, by the way? And can I get boots from the same material?"
Hana openly smirked, "I'll cut you a deal as long as you tell the police it was self-defense."
"They were clearly attacking you," The girl replied, face still mock-serious, "The way they wielded their weapons- what was it again? – ah, yes, the way they wielded their idiocy was indubitably in a threatening manner. Had you not acted your IQ could have dropped to dangerously low levels."
Hana had long given up containing her grin at the girl's solemn words and was openly smiling.
"I don't think my mother realizes she's endangering my life by bringing me to this park," Hana added.
The caramel-eyed girl laughed again, and Hana found herself once again fascinated by the soft, bell-like sound.
Coupled with the girl's fluffy locks, rosy cheeks, and childish dress, even Hana had to admit it was frankly really adorable.
"The park isn't so bad once you move away from the noise," the girl defended, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of the fresh air. She was the picture of serenity, as though the world, including Hana, calmed itself around her.
Hana could hardly muster the effort to be irritated at her classmates anymore.
Slowly, Hana sat down by the girl, leaning back on the same tree trunk the girl was resting her head on, eyes still closed despite the commotion.
Sitting on the grass, looking up at the sky through the tree leaves, feeling the gentle breeze in her hair and the warmth that the girl emanated beside her, Hana felt strangely at peace.
It really is a beautiful day.
The girls spent some time – Hana wasn't sure how much; it could have been seconds and it could have been an hour – in comfortable silence, watching the leaves of the trees dance in the wind, hearing the birds sing, far away from the noise of the other children.
Eventually, not due to a need for conversation, but out of sheer curiosity, Hana broke the silence.
"Who are you?" Hana asked, before fighting down a flush again at the rude way she voiced that question. She wasn't used to catering to others' feelings, a straight-forward person that said what she thought and had no patience for those who couldn't deal with it.
But, for some reason, she cared about what this girl thought.
Hana decided not to worry about it. If the girl decided to leave because of Hana's way of being, then she wasn't worth getting to know better anyway.
Which was the reason she asked the question, to get to know the other girl and to figure out exactly who she was.
Hana knew the girl was from her class, but for some reason couldn't quite pinpoint who it was. Which was weird, because they were a small class, in a small school in a small town where classmates had been together since they were about four years old. And Hana's memory was excellent – she should've remembered the girl's name.
The girl didn't take offense to Hana's tone, instead slowly opening her caramel eyes and looking at Hana amusedly.
A small part of Hana breathed a sigh of relief, even as another was indignant that she was constantly providing a source of amusement to this mysterious girl without meaning to.
"I'm Sawada Tsunako. You're Kurokawa-san, right?" The now identified Sawada asked, smiling.
And Oh, wow, okay. What a smile. It felt like sunshine on Hana's skin, warming her up so much that she was blushing again.
The precocious girl was momentarily dazed by the soft, sun-like smile, and had to blink a couple of times to recover.
Once she was finally able to move past the unexpectedly dazzling smile, Hana was able to assimilate the information that came with it.
Her eyes widened.
This was Dame-Tsuna?
No way.
Hana looked over the girl again.
Same fluffy brown hair that seemed to defy gravity and stick up in whichever way. Same pale skin, same fragile body that looked like it would shatter if you even brushed it the wrong way.
Yes, Hana supposed that, physically, this girl looked exactly like Dame-Tsuna.
But she was nothing like her.
It was often talked about in school how the Sawada siblings were polar opposites – one athletic and popular, the other clumsy and, well, unpopular.
While Hana had never truly interacted with Dame-Tsuna, she had seen her from a distance. The girl hardly looked anyone in the eyes, walked hunched in on herself, and had an incredibly irritating stutter.
This girl sitting beside her, however, was confident in a calm, understated way. She viewed the world at a distance, secure in the knowledge of who she was. Her posture was not hunched, but straight, and seemed ready to move at any moment. Her words weren't rushed or stuttered, but well pronounced, so that each one was perfectly enunciated and heard by the audience (Hana felt she probably gave great speeches). And there just seemed to be a mature air about her, as though she had seen the most beautiful and most horrifying things the world had to offer, and had come to accept it despite it all.
Hana paused. Where had that come from? She was no poet, wasn't prone to such fanciful ways of saying things. Hana usually just stated things as they were – with concrete facts, not wild and romantic speculations.
Maybe it was all that stress from dealing with the children. They really were lowering her IQ.
Looking at the girl again, Hana was struck by her eyes.
They're different.
While Dame-Tsuna's eyes were an ordinary caramel, this girl's eyes were clear and almost shone with the force of her personality. There were glowing orange flecks swimming a sea of warm caramel-brown, mesmerizing those who watched. These eyes were strong, clear, confident. Not at all like Dame-Tsuna.
But this girl was undeniably Sawada Tsunako.
And Sawada was now looking at her with open amusement again.
Damn, I've been silent for a while now, haven't I? Who would've thought it was Dame-Tsuna that would make me speechless.
If Hana could claim to owning any kind of weapon, it would be her tongue. She was never without a sharp retort, a witty comment, a blunt insult. And yet, she found herself absolutely speechless before this walking, talking paradox that was Sawada Tsunako.
Hana's gaze lowered until she saw what was on the talking paradox's lap, having somehow missed it before; too focused on the girl's expressions and their conversation.
"Are you- Are you reading?" Hana asked. Reading was perhaps the last thing anyone would imagine Dame-Tsuna doing her free time. The only thing that trumped reading or bettering herself in any way was Dame-Tsuna actually confronting somebody. The day that happened, pigs would fly.
"Hm?" Tsunako looked distractedly at the book perched on her lap, still open at a page near the end. "I suppose I am."
Seeing the title of the book, Hana did a double take.
"Is that Hirohito and the Making of Modern Japan?" She asked incredulously.
"Ah, yes. Unfortunately, Japanese History is my weakest subject, so I thought I'd read up a bit before classes started again." Sawada said sheepishly, as though she wasn't reading a book that would only appear on the reading lists of university students.
Hana didn't know about Tsunako's grades in Japanese History, but Dame-Tsuna's results in Math were something of a horror legend at their school. If Japanese History was even worse than Math, then just how bad were they?
But then if she was so bad at Japanese History, why on Earth did she start with such an advanced book? Why not start with their class textbook, which was much more basic?
"I'm quite enjoying it, though. Truly, Japanese history is so fascinating, I wonder why I've never read anything on it before-"
"I- I can tutor you." Someone interrupted. It took Hana a second to realize those words had come out of her mouth.
"Really?" Sawada was visibly surprised. "I wouldn't want to bother you, Kurokawa-san-"
"Hana." Hana interrupted the girl for the second time in as many minutes.
Sawada's eyes widened a bit in surprise before she smiled. Hana, refusing to fall for the same thing twice, steadfastly avoided looking directly at that smile in order to not be dazzled again.
"Hana-san, then." Sawada said softly, eyes warm. "Then please call me Tsuna."
"Sure." Hana agreed, fighting the urge to look away in embarrassment. Looking away would mean losing, and Hana did not lose! "Tsuna."
The two girls stood looking at each other in the park, only the sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds surrounding them, and the sense of peace Hana felt when resting next to Sawada – no, Tsuna – under the shade of the tree came back.
"So this is where you were hiding, Hana."
Both Hana and Tsuna turned to find an elegant woman in a black suit and matching high heels standing near the bushes that Hana had initially come through. The woman had shoulder-length silky black hair, a sharp, angular face, and was carrying an office satchel of some sort that added to the serious, professional air the woman sported.
It seemed her mother had finally arrived.
"Don't think I don't know what you're up to, leaving your bento in the car like that," Her mother accused. "I had to get someone to cover for me at the office so I could come and give it to you."
Hana wasn't worried. The office practically lived in fear of her mother – if she asked someone to cover for her, at least five people would volunteer in order to avoid her getting mad. Hell, if her mother had asked someone to drive to the park to bring Hana her bento, they'd have done so without complaint.
In the future, Hana was going to be like that too. But it wouldn't just be the office that would leap at her orders – it would be the whole company.
"And really, would it kill you to interact a bit with the other children your age? It's not healthy for you to stay isolated like this," Hana moved to interrupt, as she very clearly was not isolated and was actually sitting with another girl, whom she was pretty sure her mother hadn't seen yet, but her mother held a finger at her, "And don't you dare say anything about Kyoko. Kyoko is a darling, but she is just one person and you need more." Her mother gave an exasperated sigh, "You can't stay cooped up in your room with your books all day.
"But you've made your point," Her mother sighed. "So stubborn. We can never get you to do anything you don't want, can we? I don't know where you get it from," Hana clearly got it from her mother, but who was she to break the woman's bubble. "Don't even open your mouth young lady, I know you too well by now. You want to go home now. You're going to plead your case. You won't stop talking and presenting me with points until I concede. You probably have a power point presentation tucked away somewhere. I suppose if I don't take you home now you'll just spend the rest of the day hiding away from the other children or insulting them in some way or other." The woman rubbed at her temples, as though trying to ease a coming headache. "Very well. You win this time. We can go home now. You'll be interacting with others at school in a week or so anyway-"
"I want to stay." Hana stated. Really, she had to interrupt; her mother wasn't allowing her to get a word in.
Hana looked at Tsuna, who was observing the mother-daughter interaction with a small smile. And was she biting her cheek to keep from laughing?
Realizing she hadn't heard a reply from her mother, Hana turned to look at her and found the woman gaping, speechless.
Well, at least I'm not the only one made speechless today.
"You- You want to stay?" She repeated.
Hana bristled. What was with that tone? Was it that much of a surprise? Couldn't her mother see that she was with another girl?
Tsuna was much too intriguing for Hana to leave now. She had to stay and talk to the girl more, try to figure her out.
And they also needed to set up a schedule for their Japanese History tutoring sessions.
"Yeah, I want to stay."
Finally, her mother's eyes landed on Tsunako, still leaning on the tree trunk, open book in her lap.
"O-Oh." Her mother stared a bit, eyes quickly flicking between Hana and Tsunako. After what seemed like an eternity of that where Hana had to resist scowling at her mother – she wasn't that antisocial. She was perfectly capable of meeting new people! – her mother finally seemed to recover. "Okay. Right. You want to stay."
Then, as though the idea that her daughter was willingly socializing with someone else had finally registered, the professional and stern-looking woman started giggling. "I'll leave you two to it then. Right." She had turned away and started walking in the direction she came from, before suddenly stopping, as though remembering something. "Oh! Wait, Hana, here is your bento." She said, handing Hana a bento wrapped in purple cloth. Then, looking at Tsuna, who had still not said anything since her mother appeared, she smiled, "Be sure to come over to our house someday, okay? It's an open invitation – you can come anytime! Hana and I would love to have you!"
Tsuna smiled at the woman, inclining her head in as much of a bow as her sitting position would allow, "Thank you, Mrs. Kurokawa. I would very much enjoy that. I'm sure I'll have ample opportunity as Hana has offered to tutor me in Japanese History."
Eyes widening in delight, Hana's mother's smile somehow became larger.
"Well then, I'll be seeing you soon." Then, with a last almost giddy wave, and a continued air of faint disbelief, Hana's mother walked away.
Personally, Hana didn't understand the woman's disbelief. It was perfectly clear why Hana wanted to stay.
Hana had just found someone her age who was capable of intelligent conversation.
She'd like to see anyone try to pry Hana away from her now.
A/N: Be sure to leave a review if you like it! Or if you have any suggestions or ideas for where it's going next!