"I'll be home late, Mama."

Nana doesn't so much as bat an eyelash, her smile merry as she tends to the yellow bird that has yet to fly with its injured wing.

Tsuna has been acting rather weirdly for the past few days, displaying vigilant and tenacious tendencies in the smallest of things. His walk more of a prowl when he enters the kitchen with a body bag in his grip (too often, she disdainfully observes, but Tsuna is a growing child and it's the inevitable call of their nature to appease their hunger), his grip on brittle wood tight enough to crush it into splinters. He isn't quite where his body is, the subtle tilt of his head and the downturn of his lips proof of a sound or a scent that she couldn't sense, the slow and deliberate tap of his finger rhythmic like he's hearing and inscribing the beat of someone's heart onto the table's surface.

It struck Nana as a behavior not unlike a shark catching tendrils of red within deep waters and she knew it was only a matter of time before he dove straight in with bared teeth.

"Be careful," she says, not that her son needed to be told. Tsuna has shown promising potential as a ghoul, the scope of his senses and the magnitude of his strength surpassing Nana's when she was eighteen-years-old. He's only six.

Tsuna nods regardless, his eyes gleaming red and amber under stark white porcelain (Wear a mask, dear, she suggests, you don't want them finding you) as he opens the window and leaps out with enough force to dent the concrete and crack the glass.

Humming happily to herself, she lightly rubs her finger on the tiny bird's head and beams.

"Tsu-kun is growing up so fast, isn't he?" she asks the tiny animal, the smile on her face unhinged. "I'm not worried, though. I trust Tsu-kun. I know he will do good like he always does. Don't you think so too, little guy?"

The bird presses its head against her finger and chirps.