Dancing Flames

It was a little before five in the morning, a few minutes passed sunrise in Namimori. All was quiet. It was the kind of quiet that seemed oddly sacred, that made you hold your breath and sit as still as possible, like it would be a truly wrong thing to speak in anything above the whisper of a mouse and break the silence.

In the forest of Namimori, all was quiet. The birds, as though sensing the inherent wrongness disturbing the quiet would be, had yet to begin chirping. The wind had respectfully decided to wait a while longer before blowing and rustling the leaves. Even the squirrels seemed to tread lightly on small feet to avoid making any sounds.

On the streets of Namimori, all was quiet. Dogs seemed to be faintly stirring, none mustering up the energy to quite bark yet, instead yawning with large mouths and long tongues, but no noise. There were no cars or buses or even bikes. No one was walking. There was not a soul to be seen or heard.

In the houses of Namimori, all was quiet. The adults were mostly sleeping, with the rare morning riser silently reading a book over tea. The children were fast asleep, having gleefully taken advantage of the fact that they still had a few days before school started back up again and all using the opportunity to sleep late the previous night.

All except one child, that is.

A lone figure jogged through the streets of Namimori. The soft pitter-patter of their tennis shoes on the pavement didn't break the silence of the town as much as it emphasized it. As though giving the quietness a frame so it could be better admired, as one would do with a great work of art.

On closer inspection, one would find the jogger to be quite young indeed, eight years old at the very most. Those who looked would be impressed at the show of discipline in one so young, perhaps reminiscing about their own childhoods so devoid of said discipline, and then shaking their heads at the focus of this newer generation. As it was, no one was awake, and so no one looked, and there was no shaking of heads.

The young jogger had wide, doe-like eyes encased by long, dark eyelashes. Her hair was gathered up into an elegant ponytail that bounced with every step she took. Her face was flushed, from the morning chill or the exercise or both, perhaps, as small legs kept eating up the distance at a steady pace.

It was a calm, peaceful scene.

As Tsunako jogged through her neighborhood, her mind whirled, the chaos raging within her a sharp contrast to the serenity of the scene.

Tsunako was having very much mixed feelings.

Ever since she had woken up in her home – a very much normal place. But not obsessively normal like the Dursleys's house had been, rather just comfortingly normal – she was slowly getting used to not only an entire new life, but a new culture and language as well.

For most things, her seven year old self would cover. Without thinking about it, Tsunako removed her shoes before stepping inside the house. She somehow understood everything that was being said, even if sometimes her distinctly non-Japanese speaking adult brain took a little longer to compute it, and she felt herself have an accent on certain words. And when her mom insisted they go shopping and she try out a kimono, Tsunako's small hands had somehow known exactly how to set up the strange garment and tie the elaborate bow at the back, even if a bit clumsily.

But she was having very much mixed feelings. She knew the way she acted now was not the same way she acted before the soul-merging. The way she talked, walked, reacted to things – everything was very much different from how things were before Hyacinth (the warrior, the leader, the most powerful woman in the Wizarding World and the 27 year old adult) became Tsunako, a normal seven-year-old civilian girl. It was something she was trying to tone down, but knew could never fully stop.

In fact, she was fairly sure she wasn't even doing a particularly good job.

Tsunako had gotten better at lying over the years – much better; one couldn't be a very good politician, or survive being friends with Isadora Zabini, without lying with the best of them – but pretending to be a seven year old was beyond even her abilities. She didn't even really have anyone to base herself off of; she hardly ever saw her brother and she didn't get the impression that Hana, whom she had come to like surprisingly quickly, was an average seven year old. There were, of course, the twenty-some children that played at the park almost every day, but frankly Tsunako couldn't muster the energy to deal with that many children at once, instead opting to sit away from everyone else and catch up on her studies in Japanese History under the shade of a tree.

She also only had a vague impression of what Tsunako was like before the soul-merging. Looking through the young girl's memories was akin to watching a movie – you learned more about the character, yes, and even understood some of her ideas, thoughts, and emotions, but not enough to be able to convincingly act like her, much less live like her.

Eventually, Tsunako had resolved to explain away her shift in character as a sudden maturity brought on by summer vacation. The increase in her grades and abilities would be attributed to intense studying and training sessions over the summer. A lot could change in two months, after all. Tsunako was sure that her explanations would be accepted rather easily. No one would care enough to delve deeper into the issue.

But that would only serve for classmates, teachers, and other acquaintances. No one truly close to her.

So why hadn't anyone noticed anything?

Her brother she could excuse. He had spent most of the last week at friends' houses, something that was apparently the norm, as Nana didn't bat an eyelash at his absence (Although Nana didn't bat an eyelash at many things, so perhaps that wasn't a good measure).

Nana, as well, she could pardon. The woman had a caring heart but was really rather air-headed. This wasn't the air-headedness of Luna, whose seemingly nonsensical words were full of wisdom that didn't make sense at the time you heard it, but would in the following months, but rather a true air-headedness that was largely oblivious to everything around her. Tsunako was almost impressed. She'd never seen anything quite like it.

(The academic part of her wondered what performing Legillemency on the woman would be like – not that she ever would, but it would be interesting to see exactly what went on in her head).

But where were the previous Tsunako's friends?

Tsunako had spent many hours lying in her bed, trying to filter through her memories and understand who she was before the soul-merging, but for some reason she couldn't find any recent memories where the previous Tsunako was interacting positively with other people her age. Instead, her only interactions with her peers seemed to consist of them laughing at the poor girl, pushing her around, and her watching them at a distance with a feeling of crushing loneliness.

Well, I suppose I have to face the truth eventually.

The previous Tsunako didn't have any friends here.

She obviously didn't even have a good relationship with her brother – which Tsunako was working on, really, but it was hard to do when the brother in question was never there.

The tactician in her was grateful for her friendless state. It would mean less people knew her intimately – it would be easier to lie to everyone and explain away the changes in her personality. No complications with inventing sudden injuries to the head as explanations necessary.

But the little orphan girl who had tried so desperately to make friends in elementary school only to have all of them be scared away by either Dudley's fists or parents' whispers of 'delinquent' in her was devastated.

Even in parallel dimensions, Tsunako was destined to be alone in the first years of her life.

It's not so bad, Tsunako scolded herself. She didn't quite have the patience to deal with seven year olds on an intimate scale anyway. And she had always been comfortable in her own company, enjoying the quiet the solitude would bring.

And honestly, she was still dealing with the loss of not only her friends – and friends who were really family in all but blood – but her entire world. She was sure that Death had manipulated her emotions or view in some way so that it was a distant kind of sorrow and pain that overcame her when she thought of her last world, and honestly she had sensed her death coming for years and had had plenty of time to get adjusted to the idea of leaving all that she had ever known, but it was still no easy thing. Every once in a while, she would think of Hermione's penchant to lecture her about the strangest things she'd literally never need to know in any sort of situation imaginable, but would sit through dutifully, or she'd trip and automatically turn to her left, expecting Draco to be there with a "Merlin, you have all the grace of a newborn sniffler" on his lips but a firm, steadying hand on her shoulder, or she'd see a child on the street and immediately his black hair and brown eyes would morph into blue hair and eyes of Avada Kedavra green, just like hers, and it was all she could do not to run to her godson and apologize for not being there to watch him grow up and become the wonderful man she knew he would be. And every so often it was like looking over the abyss, peering into the darkness there and deciding whether or not too jump only to find out the darkness had hands and arms and teeth and it was pulling you in and you know you should stop it but it would be so very easy to-

Tsunako stopped her mind from venturing there. Those were dangerous thoughts, and she wasn't quite ready to confront them yet.

Anchoring herself to this reality as soon as possible was a priority. Perhaps some peace and quiet were exactly what she needed.

"EXTREEEEEEEEEMMMMMEEEEE!"

In the forest of Namimori, all was no longer quiet. The birds, startled, loudly flew out in hoards at the echoing cry, the wind took its cue to begin blowing in earnest, the squirrels squeaked and rushed up their trees.

On the streets of Namimori, all was no longer quiet. Dogs started barking with enthusiasm, sometimes running around and bumping into parked cars and bikes. The sprinklers turned on and lazily napping cats hissed and screeched at the sudden water.

In the houses of Namimori, all was no longer quiet. Adults gently stirred, giving loud yawns or viciously muttered complaints at the Sun for rising and starting a new day. Only the children, in the way children had of sleeping through anything and everything, remained dutifully asleep and silent, apart from the occasional snore. No noise, no matter how loud or exuberant, could stop them from gleefully taking advantage of the fact that they still had a few days before school started back up, and all were using the opportunity to sleep in.

All except two children, that is.

Tsunako was a strange combination of amused, surprised, and fond.

She was sure she would have been completely overwhelmed had she not had to deal with the Weasley twins and their penchant to cause chaos via pranks wherever they set foot, Hagrid and his love of potentially fatality-inducing magical creatures, Collin Creevey and his incessant and kind of slightly more than slightly creepy stalking and fanboying over her, Isadora Zabini and her tendency to seduce anything with a pulse only to tease them relentlessly then discard them like one would a used tissue, and… Well, really, the list could go on forever. In fact, she could probably make a separate list just for her time as Minister of Magic. And one for her time as Hogwarts. And maybe one for her friendship with Isadora. Now that she thought about it, Tsunako had had to deal with a lot of crazy things in her past life.

The point of all this being that all the madness of her life as Hyacinth had helped her fight against the sheer overwhelming presence of Sasagawa Ryohei.

Although, to be honest, she didn't really fight against it. Tsunako embraced it with greedy arms and a ready smile. The boy's enthusiasm was refreshing in the face of her tired solemnity.

Tsunako masterfully ignored the small voice in her head that told her that at this point she was simply too used to chaos and madness in her life, and the lack of it in the past week had been putting her on edge. She didn't really do normal – something the Dursleys would no doubt more than agree with.

A few minutes ago, Tsunako had bumped into Sasagawa Ryohei while jogging – figuratively and literally.

She had woken early that morning to do her daily exercises, which included jogging and sprinting around her neighborhood, in order to be back home in time to help Nana with breakfast. Training had been a habit ingrained in her by the war, and one she hadn't stopped even when it was long over. She found the exercise served her well, allowing her to be more prepared and agile in the face of assassination attempts or, even more horrid, overzealous fans.

Constant Vigilance had well and truly become her motto.

Nowadays, it just felt strange when she didn't do her exercises. As though she was simultaneously more sluggish and tenser with unused energy. Besides, her current body was pathetically weak, something Tsunako wouldn't abide by, and even a slow jog had her heaving in forty minutes. And running was what her body was best at – she didn't even want to think about her results in upper body and leg strength.

There was a lot to work on.

But progress was happening. The first day she started exercising she had been unable to jog for even twenty-five minutes without doubling over and almost coughing her lungs out. But surely and steadily, by waking up early and running around the neighborhood twice every morning, her body was adapting and becoming stronger.

It just required patience.

Lots of patience.

She found that her morning ritual also allowed her time to think. When she was in the house, she was almost always with Nana, helping the woman with cooking or other chores, and generally just basking in a mother's loving warmth. And when she was with Hana, she had to concentrate on acting like a seven year old, as she had a bad habit of slipping when with the mature girl. Running alone allowed her time to collect her thoughts and finally think things through.

That morning, she had been particularly immersed in her thoughts. She had also not expected anyone, much less a child, to be up at that hour. And by the time she had noticed, it was too late, as her reflexes and speed in this new body were ten times slower than those in her past body as Hyacinth.

Tsunako would later blame these three things for what happened next.

Torn from her thoughts by a loud "EXTREEEEEEEEEMMMMMEEEEE", which she was fairly sure had woken up the entire of Namimori, Tsunako had just enough time to turn her head towards the source of the sound and brace herself for impact before being tackled into the ground by a blur of red and white.

As she was falling down onto the street pavement, Tsunako only had one thought:

Moody could never find out about this.

The two children spent a few seconds groaning on the pavement, lying in a tangle of limbs before the red and white blur, as though realizing what had just happened, jumped up with a start.

Finally, Tsunako got a good look at the red and white blur that had crashed into her. As it turned out, the red and white blur was a young boy. The red came from a sports jacket that he was wearing, and the white came from – surprisingly enough for someone who wasn't yet fifty – his hair.

The boy also happened to be sporting a comically dramatic horrified look on his face.

"SORRY! SORRY! I'M EXTREMELY SORRY!" The boy shouted, repeatedly bowing to the still fallen and disoriented form of Tsunako.

Giving a slightly strained smile – because ow, this new body of hers was fragile, and how on Earth was this kid so fast and heavy?! – Tsunako gently got up from her spot on the pavement, dusting off her leggings. With a small twinge, she knew that she'd have bruises all over the right side of her body, on which she had fallen, and noticed a cut on the palm of her hand where she had feebly attempted to soften her fall. The blood was slowly trickling down her arm, and Tsunako made a mental note to find a place to wash it before going back home. The girl was once again made grateful for her mother's obliviousness – the woman probably wouldn't notice if Tsunako wore a bandage for the next few days.

"Ah, don't worry about it." Tsunako smiled for real this time, small but genuine. The boy was simply so earnest in his apology, it was impossible not to. "These things happen from time to time."

Honestly, it was practically her fault. She was an experienced war veteran – she wasn't supposed to be surprised by anyone, much less a loud, rambunctious white-haired child. If she had been paying attention, as she should have, none of this would have happened.

Looking up at the boy – who was a good bit taller than her, but then everyone was. Of course she'd be short in this life as well, did a dimension even exist where her parallel self wasn't? – Tsunako was surprised to find him staring at her face with a dazed look in his eyes and a small smile.

Tsunako stopped smiling. Had he hit his head when they crashed onto the floor? She didn't think so, but then she had been distracted at the time. The poor boy had such a dreamy look in his eyes, it could be a concussion. Should she bring him to the hospital?

Now worried, Tsunako waved a hand in front of his face. This efficiently served to wake him up from his daze, his body once again buzzing with energy.

Tsunako wondered if the boy had only two modes: Dazedly Quiet and Exuberantly… well, Exuberantly Extreme.

"AH! YOUR HAND IS EXTREMELY HURT!" The boy's face shifted to a comically dramatic horrified again, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

Tsunako couldn't resist chuckling, amused at his exuberance and a little relieved that he had finally started reacting again. "Really, don't worry about it. I'll bandage it up when I get home and it'll be good as new in a week at most." Maybe two weeks – the cut was surprisingly deep – but Tsunako wasn't going to tell him that.

The boy's comically horrified face morphed into one of comically childish awe. She swore she could see stars in his eyes at her apparent coolness in brushing off her injury so casually.

(If only he knew how very small this injury was in the scope of her life. She had received much, much worse).

"YOU ARE AN EXTREME PERSON! JOIN THE BOXING CLUB!"

Pause.

"Ah, you're hurting me." In his enthusiasm, the boy had gotten carried away and grabbed both of Tsunako's hands in his larger ones, accidentally causing the injured hand to throb harder.

Tsunako had the strangest impression that this wasn't the first time the boy had gotten carried away like that, nor would it be the last.

Releasing her hands like they had burned him (while the other way around would have been more accurate, as it was him who had injured her), the white-haired boy recovered his comically horrified face from earlier – Tsunako wondered if he'd develop a complex, constantly being horrified around her. She hoped not, she quite liked the boy – and started bowing frantically.

"AH! SORRY! I'M EXTREMELY SORRY!"

Tsunako was just about to reassure him once again that it was okay, but paused to observe the boy's following actions.

With an intensely thoughtful look on his face, the boy took three large steps back from her, resembling backwards leaps more than actual steps, as though ensuring there was a distance so that there was no chance he'd accidentally hurt her again.

Perhaps judging that three step-leaps was a bit of an exaggeration, the boy took a small step forward so that boy and girl were about five feet away from each other.

Staring into her eyes with such earnestness it almost made Tsunako blush, the boy punched the air enthusiastically before striking a pose and shouting, "JOIN THE BOXING CLUB!"

"I don't think my elementary school has a boxing club," Tsunako refuted, uninjured hand covering an amused smile.

The boy didn't even hesitate, "NEITHER DOES MINE! WE SHOULD EXTREMELY CREATE A BOXING CLUB!"

"I think I'm a bit young" – and pathetically fragile, an uncharitable voice that reminded her of Moody added – "to start boxing."

"AGE DOESN'T MATTER WHEN YOU'RE EXTREME!"

"I'm not really interested in boxing."

"JOIN THE BOXING CLUB!"

Tsunako sweatdropped. Did the kid have selective hearing?

"I don't even know your name."

The boy finally seemed to falter at this, but quickly recovered. Taking two steps forward, the boy bowed to her – this time not in apology, finally – before pumping his fist in the air. Tsunako half expected him to strike another pose.

"Hi! I'm Ryohei to the EXTREME!"

Tsunako chuckled, the sound like the tinkling of bells. He was so informal, offering only his first name.

It was wonderfully refreshing.

"Hello. My name is Tsunako," Tsunako smiled.

"But you can call me Tsuna."

"You- Are you being bullied?"

Tsunako and Hana were in the latter girl's room, sitting around the low Japanese style table there and studying Japanese history, occasionally pausing to grab a snack Hana's mother had brought up at the beginning of the tutoring session, a wide smile on her face and a "you two have fun, okay? And Tsunako-chan, dear, I do insist you stay for dinner" accompanied by a "Don't hesitate to call if you need anything! Anything at all!" The two had been studying in comfortable silence when Hana had asked the question.

Tsunako looked up from the Japanese History book Hana had given her to find said black-haired girl with an intense look on her face.

It took Tsunako two slow blinks to process the question; firstly because the thought of her being the victim of something as petty as bullying these days was laughable (even though it had been true when she was a child – which she supposed she was again, damn it all to Hell), secondly because it generally wasn't the type of thing one would ask another person so suddenly and tactlessly. Or at all.

In her surprise, Tsunako spilled some of the iced green tea she was drinking on the table, and given the darkening of Hana's eyes, the mature girl had taken that as a sign of admission.

"What?" Was Tsunako's eloquent answer.

Hana's stare somehow intensified as she made a menacing noise somewhere between a huff and a growl – and was that fury in her black eyes? Because Hana was looking eerily like Hermione did during the Triwizard Tournament when everyone hated Tsunako. Which is very intimidating, if you were wondering – before pointing accusingly at Tsunako's right hand and wrist, where the sleeve of her shirt had ridden up to expose the bruises that lay under when she had reached for her cup of tea.

"Who was it?!" Hana questioned viciously, "Who did this to you?"

"I told you when I got here," Tsunako began slowly, feeling much like a human stuck in a cage with a cornered animal, trying desperately to calm it for the alternative was a very violent death, "It was a small accident. You know how clumsy I can be." That was true. Tsunako had spent much time going over the previous Tsunako's memories and she found the girl to be abominably clumsy. Enough to drive Aunt Cissa to tears, no doubt.

Quick as lightning, Hana grabbed Tsunako's wrist and pulled the sleeve up with such force Tsunako briefly wondered if the sleeve had offended the black-haired girl in some way. Of course, once the sleeve was forcibly pulled up, the litany of bruises on Tsunako's arm that she had tried so hard to hide was revealed to the world.

Tsunako expected Hana's actions to hurt her a bit, as she was fairly sure the wrist the girl had grabbed was sprained, and the jerking of her sleeve inevitably jostled her bruised arm, but they didn't. Hana's grip was firm but infinitely gentle on her wrist, as though Tsunako were made out of glass and could break with any wrong movement. And while the action of jerking her sleeve up was forceful, Hana was careful not to unnecessarily brush her hand against Tsunako's arm and cause the injured girl further pain.

"This," Hana looked pointedly at the arm she had uncovered, then looked Tsunako in the eyes with a defying glare, as though daring the brunette to contradict her, "Is not what happens after a 'small accident.'"

"A medium-sized accident, then," Tsunako retorted.

Immediately after the words left her lips, Tsunako regretted them. She had hoped to provoke some laughter, maybe even have Hana crack a smile as she had been doing so often when they were together, but instead she saw Hana's gaze narrow and her nostrils flare.

Oh, dear. Out of everything Tsunako could've said, there was possibly nothing that would've made Hana madder than 'a medium-sized accident, then'.

Well, Draco and Hermione had often complained to her that she had a tendency to incite rage, chaos, and madness in all of those around her.

Wouldn't do to change now.

Kurokawa Hana was not one of those idiots that called themselves a pursuer of justice, or a hero, or a savior, or a good Samaritan, or anything of the like by any means.

(In fact, she wasn't even sure she was a good person. While others might lose sleep over this uncertainty, it didn't bother Hana too much).

She recognized the world was unfair, and while that fact irritated her at times, she didn't live life bemoaning it.

The world was unfair. That was a fact. Hana wasn't like those monkeys who wasted time and effort complaining about it to anyone who was even half-inclined to listen.

Instead, she learned to navigate it.

She was pretty good at that.

So no, Hana wasn't any kind of goodie-two-shoes by any stretch of the imagination.

She would stop the cases of bullying she witnessed herself, and would report any suspicions she had to the teachers, but she didn't go out of her way to stop the bullying she knew happened at her school.

It wasn't her job and, really, Hana was a fundamentally selfish person. She couldn't care less if some monkeys decided to release more of their monkeyish aggression on some poor victim. It was the way of the world. She'd exhaust herself trying to change it.

Perhaps this wasn't the 'right' way to be thinking, but Hana had never much cared for what people thought was 'right' anyway.

But then- But then Tsunako reached for her glass of green tea on the table, causing the sleeve of the brunette's dress to ride up, revealing the bruises on the girl's wrist. Accompanied by the bandage on her right hand – which Tsunako had dismissed as a 'small accident' when Hana asked about it, and wasn't that the oldest trick in the book? How had Hana fallen for that?! - it presented a very suspicious picture.

Tsunako was being bullied – was being hurt – by someone.

Someone was hurtingTsunako.

Hana saw red.

Who had done that? How long had that been going on?

Hana knew on an intellectual level that Dame-Tsuna had been bullied at school, but for some reason she simply couldn't imagine the Tsunako she knew - the Tsunako in front of her who was sitting reading an advanced book of Japanese History, looking like the picture of serenity – being bullied.

Because Tsunako was no longer just Dame-Tsuna, that poor kid who had somehow made herself a target of all the bullies at the school, who was more of an icon for everything not to be than an actual person.

She was Tsunako, mature and calm and capable of intelligent conversation, with a laugh like bells and eyes that gleamed glowing orange on occasion, and even though they had only really started talking a week ago she had somehow become Hana's… Hana's person-she-found-interesting-and-was-weirdly-fascinated-by-who-had-become-more-than-an-acquaintance-but-not-quite-yet-a-friend.

Stop being cowardly. You're not one of those monkeys who live in denial.

Tsunako was Hana's friend.

Hana had considered Tsunako a friend almost from the first moment the caramel-eyed girl began speaking. No one was more shocked than Hana – and maybe Hana's mom – at how quickly she had gotten attached to Tsunako.

Either way, hurting Tsunako was not okay.

Hana cursed herself for not noticing the signs earlier. Now that she had seen the bruises, she realized Tsunako had been slightly favoring her left side all day.

Damn it, what kind of friend was she if she didn't notice when her friend was being bullied?!

Hana really wasn't good at this whole friendship thing. With Kyoko, things were easy because the cheerful brunette was incapable of feeling insulted, and Hana knew her well enough to be able to predict how she'd react to things.

But Hana didn't really know Tsunako that well yet, despite giving her friend status (as of a few seconds ago), and she really didn't know how to approach this type of delicate topic.

Hana was a straightforward person. She was rational. She did not do 'comforting' well. In fact, she didn't do sensitive well. She was perhaps the worst person qualified to talk to a victim of bullying. Hana wished Kyoko was there. The brunette was always very in tune with feelings. She was sure the sunny girl could get Tsunako to confess all and cheer the other girl up with her disarming smiles and warm manner. They'd probably end up hugging and crying into each others' arms before the day was over.

(Hana dutifully ignored the uncharitable resentment she felt towards her personable best friend when imagining the scene.)

Of course, it would certainly help if Tsunako decided to be honest with Hana and admit to being bullied!

If she did, then Hana could personally make the bully's life a living hell, and continue that process with all of Tsuna's bullies until they finally got the point. Knowing the general IQ level of bullies, Hana guessed it would take many, many punishments before they got it.

She was looking forward to it.

Hana's expression must have somehow given away her bloodthirsty thoughts because Tsunako's voice took on a nervous tilt, "Really, Hana, it truly was an accident. Neither of us were looking where we were going, and then we ran into each other – quite literally - I ended up falling on my right side, but I tried to catch myself with my hand, which was really quite useless because all it did was make me cut my hand on a rock on the pavement-"

Hana's face must have reflected exactly how plausible she was finding Tsuna's story – and really, running into someone so hard that it gave you bruises all along her right arm and required a bandage the size of your face for the cut hand? Pretty unlikely. The only thing Tsuna could have said that was more unbelievable was that she fell down the stairs - because Tsunako started speaking faster, a nervous expression on her face.

"Honestly! I was running early in the morning and this kid named Ryohei was running extremely fast and wasn't looking in front of him and I wasn't paying attention-

"Wait, did you say Ryohei?" Hana questioned. Ryohei? As in Kyoko's baka older brother? If it was him, then Tsunako's story was suddenly much more plausible…

Tsunako nodded frantically, looking relieved at the stop to Hana's steadily darkening and more threatening face.

Meanwhile, Hana was deep in thought. If it really was Ryohei, then suddenly Tsunako's story was much more plausible… He was the kind of idiot that would run so fast and so uncontrollably that he'd run over the only other person on the entire street. Just to make sure, though, Hana would confirm Tsunako's story with him.

And while she was at it, maybe she'd teach him a lesson about why it was a bad idea to run over and hurt Hana's friends. Even if it was an accident.

"Soooo…" Hana's mother started the next morning at breakfast, a forced casualness in her voice that immediately put Hana on guard. "How are the tutoring sessions with that girl going… Tsunako-chan, was it?"

Hana wasn't sure if she should feel amused, irritated, or insulted. The last one because exactly how dumb did her mother think she was to fall for that terrible act of nonchalance?

Hana took a moment to marvel at the paradox that was her mother. The woman was the epitome of professionalism and was steadily moving up the ranks of her company through grit and intimidation as well as sheer, incomparable skill. She could make veteran businessmen burst into tears with only a few casually thrown words. She could talk circles around anyone about anything, make them believe the sky was down and the sea was up. She was said to have once successfully convinced a snake it could fly to the point it threw itself out a window.

Hana wasn't so sure about the last one, but she knew for a fact that the first two were true.

So how in the world was that the same woman as the one who was staring at her with eyes full of childish glee, trying to control a giddy smile, practically radiating badly suppressed curiosity and absolutely failing at pretending to be casual about her question which Hana knew the woman had been desperate to ask for the last week.

She looked like a kid on a sugar-high that was bouncing on her chair but who was somehow convinced that her parents wouldn't notice the mysterious disappearance of the candy from their kitchen counter.

And pretending to have forgotten Tsuna's name, too! How dumb did she think Hana was? Did the woman completely forget that Hana had heard her mother refer to Tsunako by her first name? Several times, at that? Besides, Hana was one hundred percent sure that the minute her mother had left Hana at the park with the brunette, the woman had investigated everything possible concerning the caramel-eyed girl. She probably knew the names of all of Tsunako's living family members (and some dead), Tsunako's most recent sightings outside of school, the girl's favorite snacks and drinks (This Hana was certain of, as Tsunako had commented on how the green tea mochi balls served as a snack for their tutoring session at Hana's house were her favorite), whether or not she had any pets, and Tsunako's blood type.

"It's going fine," Hana answered, just as casually.

Hana's mother's unconvincing façade of nonchalance crumbled, "Oh, honestly, Hana! Details! I want details!" She whined, sounding like a petulant child. "What is Tsunako like? What are her hobbies? Did she like the snacks I brought up? What did you two talk about?"

Hana gave her mother an incredulous look. The woman was acting like Hana had just been on her first date!

Frowning at her mother, Hana decided the woman would be insufferable for the rest of the month if she didn't get any answers. "Interesting. Reading. Yes. And obviously Japanese History." Hana rolled her eyes, what else would they talk about during a Japanese History tutoring session? (Although she supposed the latest lesson had ventured into non-Japanese History related topics, such as bullying and small to medium sized accidents).

Hana's frown turned contemplative as she continued, ignoring her mother's eager nods at Hana actually volunteering information, because Hana needed someone to vent to and her mother was as good a victim as any, "But I don't understand why she wants to be tutored in Japanese History." Hana huffed in frustration, brows crinkling in confusion, "She obviously doesn't need any help in it. She's read the textbooks for all the previous years, as well as this year, and understands everything they're saying. She's also finished all of her homework flawlessly. She's already reading university level books- some of them even I haven't read yet! The few concepts she hasn't heard of before, she grasps after I explain it only once – sometimes I don't even finish an explanation before she understands!" Hana ranted, hands moving in large gestures as though only the words weren't enough to convey her frustration at the enigma that was Sawada Tsunako. "The only reason I haven't asked her directly is because I'm not sure she'll give me an honest answer. I just need more time to figure out why exactly she agreed to the tutoring sessions when she clearly doesn't need them." And exactly who she is, Hana silently added. This Tsuna was so different from everything she expected, she was a puzzle, and Hana could never leave a puzzle unfinished.

Hana's mother hummed in acknowledgement, a twinkle in her eye telling Hana that she knew the reason she stated wasn't her only reason for spending time with the girl. "Have you considered that Tsunako agreed to tutoring sessions she doesn't need in order to get to know you better?"

"D-Don't be ridiculous!" Hana blustered, hating that she could feel the telltale heat on her cheeks. Why the hell was she embarrassed, damn it?!

"Oh?" Hana's mother smiled like the cat who had not only got the canary, but blamed it on the dog. "This girl must be pretty special if the thought of her wanting to be friends with you makes you react like this."

"I'm not reacting like anything!"

The one-sided argument lasted well into the night.

Hana lost.

Tsunako's magic wasn't working properly.

And by not working properly, Tsunako meant that she couldn't even cast a simple wingardium leviosa.

She was attempting to do it wandless, but that was no excuse for this utter failure. Back in her dimension she had managed to cast most of her spells wandless, albeit with a bit more effort. Only for the truly magically draining ones did she need a wand. She should have been able to cast all the spells she had tried in the last two hours if she had been back in her dimension.

In all fairness, it wasn't a big surprise that her magic wasn't working, as she was in a parallel dimension that probably had different spatial rules and where magic might not even exist.

But, really, she was Mistress of Death. Couldn't Death twink things a bit so she had her magic here? She felt such a fearsome title like Mistress of Death deserved at least some perks.

(She didn't count eternal life because Death had caused her to die early anyway. It evened things out. Plus, knowing her, she'd probably spend eternity trying to right the wrongs of the cosmic balance or something of the like. Sounds more like an eternal job).

She supposed she should be grateful that she still had some form of magic in her. And there was magic in her. Unmistakably so.

For the last four hours, Tsunako had sat in a meditative pose in the basement of an abandoned building she found close to her neighborhood. She had been trying to get a feel of her magical network, searching for her core.

It had taken almost two hours of searching, but in the end she had found her core.

It wasn't the core she was used to, but it was a core.

And it was beautiful.

Her core was an orange, fiery globe that glowed with all the light of a supernova. Had Tsunako been looking with her eyes, and not her magical sense, she would surely have been blinded. As it was, she felt slightly disoriented.

It reminded Tsunako vaguely of a phoenix, which was oddly fitting. Firstly for the obvious reason that Tsunako had been reborn, dying in her past life only to take on a new form and live again in her current life. Secondly because Fawkes had become Hyacinth's familiar after Dumbledore's death, an occurrence much talked about by the Wizarding World not only because it was extremely rare for someone to gain a phoenix as a familiar, but also because Hyacinth had already had a familiar in Hedwig, and having two familiars at the same time was practically unheard of.

Not so surprisingly - because this was Tsunako and Hyacinth Potter and when had things actually run smoothly for her in either of her lives? - there was a problem with Tsunako's core. The globe seemed to be chained somehow, the chains themselves possessing a mystical energy of their own that tightened around her fiery core and stopped her from accessing it.

On a more physical level, the chains seemed to cause something in her chest to tighten, as though there was a lead weight there that occupied space, squeezing her other organs against her ribcage and making it harder to move.

This difficulty moving and even breathing at times had been noticed by Tsunako, but she had simply attributed it to the fact that she had changed bodies, a strange and discomfiting experience for anyone, or the fact that this parallel universe's bodies were simply heavier and stiffer. Apparently not. The discomfort was reserved solely for her.

Really, she should've known.

On the bright side, the chains had several cracks in them. With enough time and effort, Tsunako was sure she could break them and finally be as she was meant to be again.

This positive attitude quickly evaporated in the next two hours.

After finding her core, Tsunako had spent the rest of her time trying out different spells, only for absolutely none of them to work. She was just about ready to rip her hair out in frustration and call it quits for the day when, inspired by the orange fire of her core, Tsunako decided to cast an incendio next.

Using Occlumency practices to banish all the frustration and mental exhaustion accumulated from two hours of trying with nothing to show for it whatsoever, Tsunako closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Once sufficiently calm, Tsunako held out a hand in front of her. Suddenly opening her eyes, Tsunako donned an expression of intense concentration, her gaze unblinking and unwavering from her outstretched hand's middle index finger.

"Incendio."

The world seemed to hold its breath, as though everything hung in suspension for just this moment, waiting and watching to see what happened next.

Nothing was happening, and Tsunako almost gave up, before-

There! It's there!

Triumph flooded through Tsunako as she saw a small flicker of beautiful orange flame manifest on her finger.

It only lasted a moment, however, for seconds later her world tilted sideways and suddenly-

Darkness.

When Tsunako woke up, she was lying on the floor of the abandoned basement.

She opened bleary eyes, only to regret her decision as this seemed to trigger a massive headache. Her body felt like it had participated in a marathon, and was later attacked by a hoard of professional kick boxers.

After taking a moment to feel sorry for herself, Tsunako resolutely opened her eyes and sat back up. Feeling around her head delicately with the tips of her fingers, she was relieved to find there were no bumps and that she hadn't overly hurt herself when she fell to the floor unconscious.

Tsunako had no idea how much time had passed, but looking out the window, she saw the Sun had set while she was unconscious.

It was absolutely worth it, though. She finally found a spell that worked in this dimension after four hours of fruitless attempts. Yes, it had left her exhausted and unconscious, but it was progress. It was something she could work with.

Then again…

What exactly did it say about this world that incendio, the charm to make things burn, was the only spell that worked?

Damn it, in just what kind of dimension had Death sent her?

Shrugging off her worry as it wouldn't solve anything, Tsunako resolved she wouldn't waste her time agonizing about it.

She decided to head back home for the day. She was exhausted and wouldn't be making any more progress today.

Besides, it wouldn't do to wake up exhausted and underprepared tomorrow morning. She'd need all of her energy and patience and then some. And maybe some alcohol.

Tsunako sighed.

Tomorrow would be hard.

After all, it was her first day of school.