Chapter Text
When someone asked Tsuna how he would describe his mother, there would always be a pause at first. A hesitant silence, like the question, had pulled him out of a memory he wasn’t quite ready to share. And then, after a moment, he would answer with all the learned and positive attributes he knew were true, the socially acceptable words he associated with her.
Loving.
Calm.
Gentle.
Maybe a bit dense.
Those things were undeniably true. She was kind in the way she tucked him into bed, patient in the way she explained even the simplest things, always soft-spoken and careful not to upset anyone. Yet, as truthful as those descriptions were, they weren’t the first things that came to Tsuna’s mind when he thought about his mother, Sawada Nana.
Because if he were completely honest—if he stripped away the polite veneer—he would describe her as a doll.
And not a cute, playful doll, the kind with delicate features and a charming smile. No. Since he was little, Tsuna had felt there was something… off. Something unnervingly subtle. Her movements were ever so slightly too slow, her reactions too delayed or exaggerated, her emotions occasionally sharp then flattening in a heartbeat. There was an intangible quality to her presence, a faint sense that she wasn’t fully there. That perhaps someone—or something—was pulling the strings.
And yet, every so often, Tsuna caught a glimpse of something different. Something fragile and fleeting that he began to call the “true” Sawada Nana. Moments when her hair seemed a little darker, or her eyes caught the sunlight and glimmered green. Moments when her love felt unshakably real, when her smile touched her eyes and her presence warmed the room. During these times, meals seemed a little richer, the air a little lighter, and she would seek him out—not as a passive caretaker, but as a mother who genuinely wanted to be near her son.
But those moments were rare. And as fleeting as they were, they were often followed by sickness. High fevers, fatigue that left her bedridden for days, and then a slow, heartbreaking return to the puppet-like state he had known all his life.
As Tsuna grew older, he began to see a pattern—a cruel, repeating pattern that made his chest tighten with a mix of frustration and hatred.
The longer his father, Iemitsu Sawada, stayed away, the more likely Nana was to “wake up.” And whenever she did, as if the world itself was a clockwork machine, Iemitsu would return. Sometimes for a day, sometimes for weeks if she lingered too long in her rare moments of clarity. And always, two days after he left, she would fall ill again. The cycle repeated relentlessly, like some twisted, merciless rhythm, and Tsuna hated it. Hated it with every fiber of his being. He hated feeling helpless. He hated his father. And above all, he hated the idea that his father was the reason his mother suffered.
For a long time, he wasn’t even sure. Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe it was coincidence, or bad luck, or something he couldn’t understand.
Then came Reborn.
And as much as he despised the lessons, as much as he resisted, after breaking the seal placed on him, clarity came. The Vongola Hyperintuition confirmed what his gut had already suspected.
He hadn’t been imagining it.
Iemitsu Sawada was doing something to his mother, something that left her trapped, sick, and… broken. And now, Tsuna knew he would do everything in his power to help her.
Then the entire Vongola Familiy Buissnes happened.
There were battles against the Varia, the Shimon Family, and the struggle to free the Arcobaleno from their curse. Tsuna threw himself into the chaos of adventure and responsibility, seeking answers wherever he could, hunting for some clue that could heal his mother.
But there were none. Not a single lead. At least not one that wouldn allert his Father.
And the most troubling truth was that after Reborn moved in, Nana stopped waking up. Two years of Tsuna fighting, learning, and growing as a leader, and she never came back—not even for a moment.
Every week that passed, a quiet panic grew in Tsuna’s chest.
The last time Iemitsu had been home, had he… broken something inside her? And how could Tsuna fix what he couldn’t even see? What he couldn’t even name?
Then, one cold November evening, the weight of uncertainty lifted slightly. Returning from school, he was greeted with something he hadn’t seen in years, Bright green, tired eyes, and an anxious smile that trembled on her lips.
“Tsuna… I need your help.”
For a moment, the world stood still. And in that moment, Tsuna knew that whatever lay ahead, he wouldn’t be helpless anymore.