Daniela had never bothered to think much on where death would take her.

In her more whimsical moments, she had guessed on Hell. After all, where else would she go? She is a child killer, a betrayer, a monster made by circumstance-she would be welcome nowhere else.

This is wholly unexpected.

Tilting her head to the side, Daniela pokes at her cheek, frowning at the mirror when her finger only touches baby fat. Her hair is far too light, her eyes are far too dark, and even worse, there's a cock hanging between her legs.

But, unpleasant as that is, that pales in comparison to the bigger problem. Trying again to summon her flames, she hisses in frustration when nothing happens, knowing it's a futile effort.

Timoteo was never the son she wanted. He was always too impulsive, too brash, too weak. And yet she thought him better than this. Yet she thought he wouldn't break one of the few rules the mafia held sacred.

But here she is in this too small, too wrong body. Here she is with cold seeping underneath her skin, with a daze trying to cloud her mind.

With a snarl she finally steps back, tearing her gaze away from the mirror and pushing the fog in her mind down with sheer force of will.

She is Daniela di Vongola, and her soul will not be broken by a seal!

The Ninth (and isn't that odd? isn't it odd, to see her little Teo as a man older than she ever was) and Sawada will pay for what they did. Honor demands she retaliate despite their blood relation.

But that will have to wait until she is whole again. For now she must plan, for now she must gather allies and see just how the world has changed.

First, though, there is something she must do.

"Mama?"

"Yes, Tsu-kun?"

She gazes up at this woman that let herself believe Iemitsu's lies, before pausing, before scowling as the words stick on her tongue.

Judging by the woman's indulgent smile, her frown is more adorable than anything else.

"I'm a girl, mama," she finally tells her, thanking whatever power is out there that this body retained its knowledge of the language.

Nana blinks once, twice, before nodding resolutely.

Well. Maybe there is something to be said for obliviousness.

"Do you want to change your name?" Nana asks and she pauses, mind racing through possibilities.

As much as she wants-god, does she want-she's not Daniela anymore. This too small body is proof of that, the man calling himself her father only enforces it.

Idly, she raises a hand to her cheek, fingers pressing for a tattoo that's no longer there. She thinks of the red flowers crawling down the trellis at the mansion, of the red roses that her Timoteo loved to bring to her.

"Tsubaki," she looks up at Nana, the first smile in this new body spreading across her face. "My name is Tsubaki."

Her mother-for that is what this woman is, strange as it may seem-smiles indulgently down at her, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her head.

Gazing into the mirror again, she frowns, eyes drawing across her body.

The red ribbon tied around her impossibly fluffy hair is a comfort. The polished black shoes and the red skirt Nana insisted on buying help too, help something settle.

It still feels wrong, though, still makes her stomach heave and her hands twitch.

But it's pointless to lose yourself to the past, wallowing only makes things worse.

Daniela di Vongola may have woken in this body, but it is Sawada Tsubaki looking in the mirror.