Pinkie's Part: I know, I know! I'm terrible for starting another story, But this was seriously staring at me, the one line on my laptop screen, mocking me, daring me to ignore it any longer. Please drop a review on your way out, if this sparks interest and if it is thought that is should be continued. I will alert you now, this is unbeta'd; so if an error rises, please let me know. :)

Chapter: Prolouge; Let Me See Beginnings

It was like any other, usual, dull day. The trees swayed in a rhythmic unison, devoid of any of their usual colors, the winter season settling in like a stubborn in law; and small clicks from leather soles upon dead leaves which covered concrete resonated in the grey morning. A faint scent of hickory wafting through the wind. Unappealing. Uninteresting. Normal, and utterly borring. A boy was clad in a slightly formal uniform, by choice, with a comfortable zip up jacket over the top of the vest. His footsteps small and calculating, almost as if wanting to avoid any troubles, specifically falling. He had began to climb the small set of steps that lead to the main entrance of a building, his face set in an acomplished determination, a ghost of a smile played along the edges of the pout, and then-

It happened again. His usual startled scream, though an octave higher than usual; went unheard. But before that, let's set the stage for this scene. How about, a long, open cooridor, something similar to that of a normal University- that lacked all familiarity. This person was far away from home, and undoubtably uncomfortable. His bag lay open with it's contents spread in dissarray as the people in which were passing, barely gave him a second glance. His amber eyes and chestnut hair, though rare in this place, were nothing totally out of the ordinary. The boy sighed, and began to slowly pull his items back to him, trying desperately to shove them back into his bag and make it to his class on time.

One Tsunayoshi "Tsuna" Sawada, (or backwards if you would in his hometown) was currently in Italy- or rather, something similar in that sense. You see, this school was just that, something similar. One could create what type of enviornment that they wished to reside in. A special chip had been placed among those nerves and systematic thinking waves within the brain to allow the owner to create something to make them feel more at ease. Unfortunatelly for this little brunette, that was not the case. His reacted only when he was severly unnerved or embarassed; the case currently a mix of the two.

He knew he was in Japan, Nanimori, to be exact. He kept his breathing even as he tried to will the images away. He had no need of these soothing-or so he thought- images of a Venice University he had seen but once in the pages of a glossy magazine. Slowly but surely, the scene in front of him wavered and granted him access to his actual reality.

He was considered stupid, clumsy and all around no good, earning him the nickname, Dame-Tsuna. He huffed at the very thought of that, and did his best to stand. He was a fragile boy, one who wanted nothing more than to protect those precious people in his life. This resolve, in itself was endearing, however it lacked one main flaw; he currently had no one special. His mother had moved away to be with his father, and he had taken up residency within the University Campus. He had many aquaintances, but no true friendships. He then hoiseted his back onto his shoulder, and made his way, albeit reluctantly towards the end of the hall. This time, however, he was greeted with the disgruntled, and unwanted stares of the classmates who saw him.

They had witnessed his fall, the way he fell over his feet. Yet, considering their rising dislike for the petite boy, had done nothing to help him. He sighed, trying his best to ignore the stares of distaste, and continued onward, making his way through the halls.

The University in which he attended was specifically for the gifted and talented. Mainly artists and geniuses were the main populance of the school. Tsuna was considered advanced in only one thing, and that was his ability in color theory.

He was not an artist, no; though some would argue that fact (i.e. his teachers), he was very gifted with the knowledge of what colors conected to which emotions within the human physchee. Which is something that Tsuna prided himself in. He could tell when a student was nearing their breaking point, and being the kind hearted person he was, he would report it annonymously and allow that student to take the steps neccassary to help them heal.

He smiled sadly at the thought, Even though, I care so much for those around me, no one will lend a hand to the dame one.

Tsuna sighed, he then looked up and smiled, a real genuine smile. His fingers had barely grasped the door handle when it slid open. Tsuna blinked, and then found himself on the ground once more, running his hand along his lower back and backside as a man fled silently down the hall, his hand clamped tightly to his head, Tsuna found himself being trampled on as people flew out of the same room, following said fleeing man.

He blinked, the face he had seen, mezmorized him. In a fit, he tried his best to decipher the colors he had seen. Black, clad entirely in black, the monochromatic scheme nearly overwhelming save for a white dress shirt and a strip of yellow.

He hadn't had a chance from the first moment he saw it. His mind trying desperately to decipher the colors he had seen, a slight pang of disappointment that he hadn't seen the face to give him hints as to how this person was. A female huffed, and extended a hand to the brunette, he took it graciously and smiled up at his professor.

This year had suddenly gotten a little bit more unordinary.

(Lines of Break)

It had been roughly two weeks since Tsuna had been unceremoniously thrown to the floor and trampled. He shuddered at the thought, and unconciously ran a hand to his lower back, his eye twitched slightly as he sighed. Since the initial incident of being thrown carelessly onto his buttocks, Tsuna had opted to opening the door to his classroom near the side of the door, instead of standing directly in front of it. This saved a couple of times with the ignorant students who would sometimes whip the door open without thinking of who, or what would potentially be on the opposite side. Today just so happened to be one of instances. A tall young man, one he recognized as a gifted sports fanatic, one called Yamamoto, if he was correct; spun out of the room, his hand rose to scratch the back of his head, ruffling the dark brown locks of hair, his elbow barely missing Tsuna's face as he spoke to the professor within the confines of the room.

"Mah, Mah! I'll get to work on that, ha ha ha I'm sorry about the test though, I guess I should study more often."

Said sports student only noticed the petite brunette when he went to continue walking, and bowled him over. A tangle of arms and legs left the young man flustered as he tried to help the slender frame into a sitting position. Tsuna hadn't been able to let out his usual "hiie!" and Yamamoto looked down at the small boy and his smile faltered before immediately picking it right back up.

"Ah! You're Dame-Tsuna right?"

Tsuna visibily flinched at that cursed name, and reluctantly nodded, usuing the wall as a brace to stand himself up, instead of using the extended hand that had been offered in his direction. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the help, he was just really shy, and he didn't want to drag the popular sports star down in his reputation because he had decided to help him, instead of ignoring him like the rest of the populance.

"Ara, I'm-"

""Yamamoto-san, right?"

Said young man nodded, and stared at the brunette, before smiling once more.

"Where were you headed, Da-"

"Just, Tsuna... please."

Yamamoto tilted his head, and grinned, nodding his approval, and then furrowed his brow when Tsuna walked around him, bowed slightly and entered the room behind him. Tsuna grasped the handle of the door, looked apologetically up at the young man before him and whispered,

"I don't want people to hate you too. Have a nice day, Yamamoto-san."

He closed the door with a soft click and left a bewildered Yamamoto on the other side. Said boy regained his compposure, placed bother hands behind his head, and began walking away, his usual smile replaced with an odd look, that is, until he spotted a group of his friends and jogged up to them, his usual persona in turn rising back, but the petite brunette he had just encountered still teetered on the edge of his thinking as he continued on throughout his day.

As Tsuna closed the door, he turned to his teacher, and smiled genuinely. The woman smiled back, and waved him forward. Tsuna strode over to his desk, set his bag down and returned to the front of the room, his smile never leaving his face as his professor and him began to speak of friendly terms.

The duo soon lost track of time; their conversation lasting more than an hour as the door suddenly slammed open, a disgruntled group of students began to file in. Each student passed a glare at the brunette, who clammed up and walked rather quickly to his seat. The professor sighed as she stood, brushed imaginary dirt from her grey pencil skirt, and walked over to the blackboard. White lines marred the perfect black surface as she began writing the assignment on the surface.

Tsuna began writing down the items, when he felt something brush the nape of his neck, he reached behind him, and felt nothing, so he shrugged and continued writing. He then felt it again, this time, something along side the feeling of something, crawling. He snapped his hood, wanting to get rid of that feeling all together. He hoped, prayed that the sensation was nothing more than hair, or loose threads from his clothing. Something little, and slightly offensive came into his line of sight-

Tsuna shot up from his seat as a spider fell from his hood onto the desk's surface. His face hot as he was quite aware he had released quite a girlsih shreik. He gathered his utensils, bowed his apology to his professor and scurried from the classroom. His professor shot quite the angry glare to the group of students who had began to laugh at the poor brunette.

"Mochida! It hasn't even been five minutes!" she growled through her gritted teeth.

Said man shrugged, stood and laughed, "Headmistress' Office?"

A curt nod, but this time, as he passed, instead of a glare, the teacher threw her piece of chalk at the back of his head. He flinched, and went to retort, but the lack of patience in which was rolling off of his teacher gave his reasonable cause to avoid a response to the violence.

She whirled, daring anyone else to say something, before she huffed, and picked up another piece of chalk, resuming her writing.

"Today in Color Theory-"

(Lines of Break)

The visons that danced in the lines of vision saw were comforting, a soft breeze brushed the sides of hair into the face. Black curls bounced in the same breeze, but were slightly more shielded as something black kept them in place. A hand brushed the offending hair back and tilted the black surface lower. The form was spread across a thin barricade, shaded by an awning. A barritone hummed in appreciation, the vision in which he happened to be viewing was that of a warm day in Venice, the summer breeze shamelessly allowing him to breathe in the scents of the fresh baked bread of the market. The murmurs of long gone voices a familiar lulaby in his ears.

He was far away from home, and wanted nothing more than to return. But unfortunately he had been forced here. His job, he sneered, had politely volun-told him he was to reside on this campus, whose name he had conveiniently misplaced. He allowed his eyes to close, his concentration solely on keeping up this vision; to help calm his nerves.

His first day here was weeks had passed, and yet, the fan club he had no intention of starting for himself, undoubtably had resulted to stalking him. He groaned, lifting the black fabric, smoothing the yellow band before carefullysettling it on the top of his head. He tilted it slightly. He made movements to jump down from the barricade, the images of Venice disappearing, when he heard it.

The wavering vision showed him a petite frame, clutching a bag and running. Unmistakable tears streaming down a round, innocent face. He felt a sudden tug of a memory. He just raised a brow at that, and stared as the frame suddenly tumbled, splayed out on the cold concrete. The from slowly pulled itself up into a sitting position. The head hung low as bangs sheilded the eyes, and thin arms began pulling papers, books and pencila close, trying to clean up the mess.

He found himself inching closer as he stopped in front of the figure. Amber eyes, red rimed and wide stared up at him, and he cursed himself. He bent, and then kneeled, his hands gathering items that were just out of reach for the brunette. He was suprised to see that this person was actually male, though he should have deducted as such from the gravity defying, stubborn hair that stuck up in all different directions.

He was lucky he had adjusted his fedora just right, so that it sheilded the majority of his face. He smirked as he pulled more scatterd papers in his direction. His hand extended towards the trembling brunette, who in turn gingerly took the papers from him, stowing them away into the bag he was holding. He kept his hand out, and when he felt a slight shift of weight on it, closed his fingers gently, and pulled the brunette to his feet.

He was suprised in himself, for having helped someone. It was not in his character, not at all. He was used to causing pain, used to seeing people flinch away from him. He released the delicate hand, and scanned the figure, noticing nothing wrong, he nodded, turned on his heel and walked away. When he was a considerable distance away, he heard it. Just slight, almost barely audiable, but the cruel wind had graced him with the sound of a voice. Timid, and shaky.

He turned towards it, his obsidian eyes widened only slightly as he almost took a step backwards.

"Thank you..so much."

The frame still trembled, but a smile was on that face, one so bright that it caught the fedora wearing man off gaurd. He had been thanked, that was also quite new. He inclined his head, and began to stalk off once more. A small smile on his face, perhaps he could begin to like this helping people thing. He felt lighter, and a slight bounce in his graceful steps as he returned to the sight of the barricade, once more hopping onto it, before disappearing behind it.

Tsuna stood, still, staring after the person who had just helped him. He was slightly perplexed, unable to confirm nor deny the fact that someone, had not glared at him, or ignored him. They had actually stopped whatever they were doing, and helped him. He had used his voice to thank someone, instead of apologizing to them for his presence being a bother. His tears had stopped, and then he smiled.

Yes, this year had definitely gotten a little less ordinary.

Pinkie's Part, Take 2:

And end scene, should I continue this? Please review. I would greatly appreciate it.