Author's Note: The Yoshida Hisui from Namimori History and Terra Incognita are two different people. Sorry for the mix up but I loved the name way too much. Anyways, one of the reason I chose Yamamoto for this is because he's the kind of guy I would imagine Harry to be if he had gained what he had in this fic. Not to mention, there are already several stories consisting of Harry being Hibari Kyouya and I loved it but I want to try something new for a change. I love Yamamoto Takeshi. And maybe next time, I'll try Gokudera (green eyes) or even just Reborn (although it was already used, I want to do it in my version). Or maybe that one where he's part of the Bovino and become's Lambo's older cousin. But before that, I want to tell you that the progress of my fics are slow due to not having a consistent laptop or PC at home. So, sorry for the inconvenience but be assured that I won't discontinue or abandon them. Thank you.

This fic will either be a three-five shot. But if it receives good responses by the end, then maybe I'll develop it into something more elaborate. But right now, it's just something more drabble-like.

Enjoy~

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1.

Harry Potter was five when the Dursleys abandoned him in Japan.

The fear and hunger were the most prominent things he could remember when he had lived in the streets of Japan. For a month, Harry could definitely say that it was the most hellish experience that he had gone through. He didn't understand a single thing about Japanese and he couldn't even read a single kanji for all he was worth.

When Uncle Vernon had announced that they were going to Japan with him on a business trip, Harry had been so surprised and elated that his relatives had thought to bring him with them. He could still recall Dudley throwing temper tantrums that they were going to bring his freakish cousin with them. Though, he could still remember the awe when he saw just how different the culture here was and how more peaceful Japan seemed to be than in England.

The truth hit him hard during the fifth day when he discovered that his relatives had up and left him without anything much to go on with.

He also remembered running away from the inn that he and his relatives had been staying in for fear of getting discovered and be brought to a torture chamber like how Uncle Vernon always told him. After all, freaks didn't even deserve to live. And Harry was supposed to be grateful to the Dursleys for even being alive.

Still, as he eyed the rolling ball towards his feet from where he was watching the older kids play at the park, Harry couldn't help himself as he picked up said ball and threw it back. The other kids yelled their thanks and Harry stared at them play some more.

Baseball was probably what saved him.

2.

He came back every day to watch the games. He was so envious at the carefree disregard for everything as they simply enjoyed their play. The other children must have noticed his rapt attention as one of the pitchers, Himura Asuma, approached him with an extra bat in one of his hands one day. The boy spoke rapidly and so excitedly that Harry could barely keep up. Even with his already five month stay in Japan as a street rat, he could hardly speak Japanese. Though, to be fair, he learnt some small words the longer he stayed.

Harry was smart enough to identify the word "join", "play", and "please". And it didn't even take more words as Asuma handed him the bat. Harry wordlessly trotted after the older boy. The rules were vague to him as he didn't really understand most of the words they were telling him. But having watched the game so many times, he had an inkling as to how to proceed, at least.

When he swung the bat at first, he had been disappointed when it only met empty air. But, for some reason, he could tell that he had merely swung it too early and missed the ball entirely.

Focusing his eyes on the ball this time, despite his slightly blurry vision due to his lost glasses after running away from what he had assumed to be a police officer, he gripped the bat tighter and firmed his stance. He didn't remember anything else as his mind focus on the loud clinking sound when the bat's surface made contact with the ball. He had watched with excited eyes as it flew at the edge of the park but far away enough for him to run and earn a base.

Then the game continued. Their team might not have won but it was admittedly a good and close game. At the end, the older kids had started to crowd around him and, he assumed from their enthusiastic and awed chatters, to congratulate him. Harry never had any friends before and looking at the friendly and cheerful smiles of the older children, he couldn't help but beam and enjoy the brief companionship.

Eventually, they bid their goodbyes since they had to go home but it didn't deter Harry from being happy.

From that day onwards, Harry always came back to the park and joined them in playing baseball. It didn't matter even if they had classes, they always arrived around the afternoon, anyway. At first, the kids were hesitant this time but after proving to them that he had a natural streak for the sport, they eventually got used to him. He hadn't known that they only thought of their first game as a one-time thing. But, he was glad nonetheless, that they had let him continue participating.

Almost every day, he was there to join them and it went to the point where two teams would always be competing on who he would play for.

That was the first time something made Harry feel needed.

Baseball saved his life. And he would forever cherish it by playing the sport with all the passion he had.

3.

Even with his status as a street urchin, Harry managed to get away with it with the older kids. They didn't question him where he lived or where his parents were, all they knew was that he was the resident baseball prodigy that always came to the park to play with them. Even though he hardly spoke, his grins and almost nonchalant personality drew them in. He was only trying to appear nonchalant because if he let his worries show, then they might know. And Harry couldn't let them know.

During his days of scavenging through the streets under the heat of the sun, he had gained a slight tan and, due to his missing glasses, he had to squint at a lot of things to get a better look. He might not know it but those were the things that let him blend in with the natives of Japan. If you only looked closer would you then find something remotely foreign about him. And his lack of anything nutritious in his meals had given him sharp features that further blurred the context of his foreign origins.

And, even then, he wasn't really idle. His time with the Dursleys made sure that he wouldn't stay like that for very long. Listening to adults' conversations and even just watching televisions through the appliance stores, he managed to at least relate some kanji to words or even phrases.

He never even considered speaking to other people in English. It would only mean being discovered and shipped off back to his relatives faster than he could comprehend. So he tried to learn more about Japanese instead.

What really pushed him to try harder was when one of the older kids finally demanded what his name was. At first, Harry didn't really understand (and they just assumed that he was either stupid or a slow learner when he couldn't always interpret what they were saying) and when one of the patient kids, Izuno, explained it as nicely as he could, Harry finally noticed that he never introduced himself.

When they departed ways, he had resolved to find a new name. Because, he certainly wouldn't say Harry. The way his relatives spat it with such venom would always remain with him. It was his name other than boy, freak, or spawn. But what difference did it make when the hate and disgust behind it was no different than the other names they threw at him?

So, he became determined in renaming himself in conjunction with this new (and more preferable) life.

But, Harry wouldn't know it, magic was a tricky thing. What most wizards disregarded and often ignored was that, magic mainly worked on the intent of the user. Harry's magic, as a child, was at its purest form and wasn't tainted. It's due to this that he was naturally protected from the dark piece of soul currently trapped within his scar. Still, it was due to his strong, determined, and heartfelt intent for a new life that his magic did its work for him. His green eyes started to darken over time until it became golden brown with tints of green when the light hit it right. His skin had permanently retained the tan hue and he didn't even bat an eyelash at how his features stayed sharp and strong. He had merely assumed that it was due to his stay in Japan and, as uneducated as he was at the moment, he merely chucked it up as something natural.

It just so happens that when he had found a thrown comic book in an alley one night, the first kanji and name that he had managed to read was 'Takeshi'. The others were also considered but he thought about his struggle with the alphabet, the first word always left an impression. Besides, the name was common and, albeit forgettable, would help him assimilate himself better in this country. His magic had acknowledged his new name and, with it, his whole new identity as something he now really was. Still, he might not be as intelligent as others, but he was wise and street-smart.

And that made all the difference.

4.

For a year, Harry–no, Takeshi survived in the harsh streets of Japan in a town, he had just recently learned, named Namimori. He discovered that the reason he hadn't been shipped off to the nearest orphanage or, as his Uncle Vernon would tell him, a torture chamber for freaks like him, was because the law enforcement around the town was so lenient to the point that common thugs littered the dark alleys and, sometimes, even the local yakuza were out in the open. Takeshi made sure to avoid those people.

He had lived off on pickpockets (only from people who he saw didn't deserve it, mostly drunks and cruel adults) and leftovers from those few restaurants who would take pity on street children like him (which wasn't really different from living with the Dursleys, considering they barely fed him and usually let him spent days or a week at most without food and those days were always the worst since chores were done through sheer will power by then). But, he had learned early on that the world was a greedy place and it was a man for his own.

Still, when the leftovers were decidedly small, he sacrificed and chose to let the younger ones have it and when he couldn't find people to pickpocket, he would merely go to the park, find a suitable tree to climb and sleep on. For some reason, he never had a problem with it and he never fell down, to his relief. Though, some days were just hard when those few supplies weren't available and he had to disagree when the older kids that he knew from the park insisted on inviting him for dinner to hang out every other day.

Though, after a particularly good game once, Takeshi as oblivious as he pretended to be, hadn't been able to refuse their invitation to dine with them this time.

Still, as time went on, he had gradually grown into the character of an easy-going boy. He didn't want to trouble other people with his problems and, acting as he did, helped in making himself forget his own worries. Uncle Vernon did always state that ignorance was bliss, didn't he? And, as his stay in Japan went longer, he discovered that ignoring everything was better than depressing over it and making himself more miserable wouldn't really improve his situation.

So, even as he was mentally calculating the costs of the food he ordered–a plate of the cheapest sushi they offered and a glass of water–he just laughed with the others as one of them tried to hit it off with a joke and failed. He just grinned when night struck and the others had to go home. He cheerfully bid them goodbye even if most of them offered to walk with him. Still, he only had half of the money needed to pay the food and he was planning on asking the owner if he could just work for the excess. If that didn't work, well, he'd worry about it later as he approached the counter and looked over the man staring back at him curiously.

"A-Anou," He stated hesitantly with his grin still in place as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He brought out what money he had on him to show the owner as he chuckled at his own misfortune. He found out that finding hilarity within his problems always helped from angering or disheartening him instead. And he found no use in being angry anyway. It only made him unable to think properly and he found out that he mostly did things he didn't mean when he was enraged.

So, he settled for trying to always see the good in every little thing. It helped in setting his mind at ease and quenching his temper almost effortlessly.

It was only due to this overly optimistic attitude that he was surviving his darker days out in the streets of a foreign country by himself.

"It's alright," The man waved off with a sigh as he collected money from the boy. "Kids these days... always are biting off more than they can chew." He shook his head exasperatedly and Takeshi instantly felt guilty and embarrassed about it.

"I-will...work!" Takeshi declared loudly in a slightly awkward and choppy manner. He might have grown slightly adept in understanding the Japanese language over the year but it never meant that he was fluent in speaking. In fact, most people (even the older kids) thought of him as someone stupid due to his inability to communicate properly. Still, he persisted since those people didn't know about his situation and, instead, laughed when they started to tease or mock him about it.

Because, as carefree and easy-going as he was, Takeshi couldn't and wouldn't let them know. The scorn from his relatives was already enough to last him a lifetime.

Yamamoto Tsuyoshi looked at him from behind the counter in surprise and a little disbelief.

"Eh?" He raised an eyebrow at the determined expression on the boy's face. "Look, little guy, I was just kidding. Don't need to worry about it. I've had several youngsters who had run from payment before. It was already a miracle that you were honest about this one. But it's fine," He soothed when he saw the guilt and protest making its way in the boy's amber eyes.

Takeshi shook his head vehemently.

"No, I-will...work!" He asserted more firmly this time, almost pleadingly.

"It's already late, your parents might get worried," Tsuyoshi went for a different route instead, his eyes sharpening when the boy merely shook his head once again. But, the man had seen the sign. He was a retired assassin but he had managed to survive for so long for a reason. There was no worry in the boy's stance and certainly no thought about other people who might be concerned over him. Children only developed that kind of disposition when they really didn't have anyone to be bothered over them.

After all, most kids in the mafia were the same.

And the slight awkwardness in speech bothered him. Even other younger street children or orphans could speak fluently than this kid. And that thought worried him on a whole other level as he stared at the resolute if not tired and weary eyes of the boy. Either he hadn't been raised in Japan or the ones who (previously) raised him spoke a different language.

"Fine," Tsuyoshi finally agreed when the other looked on the verge of begging.

Neither knew that it would change both of their lives for the better.

4.

It didn't take long for Tsuyoshi to find out about the boy's real situation. The boy was a street kid and always scraped for leftovers from those few restaurants which he knew always took pity on young children without homes. Still, suspecting and knowing about it was entirely different from seeing it up close. This wasn't the first time that he had encountered something like this. But what made Takeshi different was how he was still able to laugh and smile despite his situation. He always went to the park to play baseball with those older kids and gave everyone the benefit of the doubt whereas, other kids like him, always seemed to have a hard time even talking to anyone on a level that the boy was able to do.

So, to help the boy, Tsuyoshi had given it in a form of a request to ask for the boy's help around the shop as long as he didn't touch anything valuable or things from his workplace (especially the knives) in exchange for a platter of freshly made sushi and a glass of milk. The boy had looked at him in shock and slight scepticism on why anyone would've bothered before he grinned and heartily accepted the offer.

Takeshi was naive but he was exceptionally wise for his age and his heart was in the right place. And Tsuyoshi never regretted what he did when, beyond food and milk, he had offered to brush the boy's literacy. He was very glad that he did since he could still remember feeling dismayed and perturbed when he realized that Takeshi could understand but hardly speak Japanese, could barely read any hiragana or kanji, and honestly didn't know a thing about anything remotely Japanese other than what he witnessed from the streets.

That was when the boy had finally shown the signs of a jaded and mistrustful boy usually found in his case.

He didn't want to speak about how he came to be like this or why he apparently didn't even have knowledge close to anything Japan-oriented. The boy didn't look foreign but his slip ups were already clues that the boy wasn't raised in Japan. If anything, when Tsuyoshi threatened to give him to the police, did he get anything substantial when the boy finally broke and cried out 'No, please!' in fluent English. Thanks to his previous line of work, Tsuyoshi was fluent in several languages.

After that, it was a very fearful Takeshi who had finally confessed that he was raised in England and was abandoned by his relatives in Japan a year and a half ago. He didn't want to approach the authority about it for fear of being taken to a 'torture chamber' for 'freaks' like him as his uncle had told him they would. It angered Tsuyoshi to learn that the boy was obviously neglected and abused before he came to Japan. If anything, to the boy, being abandoned was probably the next best thing that happened to him. And admitting his situation had terrified him because he thought that he would be either given back to his relatives if anyone found out, or people would simply hate him for being a 'freak' like his relatives repeatedly labelled him as.

There was one thing that the boy refused to disclose, though, and that was his real name. Tsuyoshi didn't pry any further than that.

He might have been severely hesitant at first but when the boy arrived at his shop one day with a feverish flush to his cheeks, but still grinning and determined to work, Tsuyoshi knew that he would have to do it when no one else would. Besides, he had already quitted his job and all he had now was his family's dojo and sushi shop. It wouldn't hurt to take the boy in.

And he only became resolute in his decision when he saw the surprise, wonder, and hope in the boy's eyes after informing him.

5.

Takeshi didn't know how the man did it.

He really didn't.

At first, when Yamamoto Tsuyoshi had sat him down at the living room located just above the sushi shop, he had been extremely anxious and nervous. He had thought that he would be able to keep quiet about his situation for much longer. But Tsuyoshi had threatened to give him to the authorities. It could be the 'torture chamber' or, if there was something he learned while he was still in England, there was a chance that he would just be forced on his relatives like those two rare times when Uncle Vernon 'accidentally forgot' him in London.

If anything, in a momentary haze of fear, he just spoke and spoke until all his worries were spilling out of his mouth in a language that he hadn't used for some time. English, surprisingly, still came naturally to him and, before he knew it, he was already begging the man from doing as he had said.

Takeshi, before that day, honestly liked Yamamoto Tsuyoshi. It was due to him why he had two full meals a day for letting him help around the shop in exchange. And those meals were always better than any leftovers that he had to eat (either from those restaurants or scraps from the Dursleys). Sushi and milk would always be the food that could make him cry tears of joy any time of the day and he would always be grateful to the sushi chef for it.

Still, even if the man promised that he wouldn't do as he had threatened, Takeshi couldn't stop the wariness he had developed every time he would go to the shop. Things had been awkward between them and even if Takeshi tried to laugh it off, the worry would always bubble within him. Because then, it never stopped bothering him when he would be sent back to England, to the Dursleys, and to that cupboard as his prison. He realized that he had enjoyed the independence too much, cherished the freedom for once, and relished the feeling of having the older kids as his friends so much.

He had thought about hiding and never showing his face to Tsuyoshi once and for all to alleviate his fears. But, Takeshi really liked Tsuyoshi. And he would trust the man.

Though, Takeshi still didn't know how Tsuyoshi did it.

When the man had questioned him if Takeshi wanted to be adopted, he had assumed that he had been dreaming even when he agreed. It hadn't been until it was made official in the papers and Tsuyoshi was showing him his new would-be bedroom that it hit Takeshi hard like a bullet train. As he read the name Yamamoto Takeshi in the papers, he couldn't honestly believe that someone would be willing to take him in. He was just Takeshi, a street kid with nothing but determination and rags-as-clothes on his back, a freak, and nothing really special. So, he couldn't help it as he cried and laughed and thought that maybe, the gods took pity on him and finally listened to his prayers and pleas.

When asked, Takeshi told him that his birthday was in April 24th, the day that he had changed his name, and accepted it as it is since his relatives never informed him about the real one and he never celebrated it at school during Nursery, so he had assumed that it was either during Christmas break or summer.

Now, what really bugged him was not knowing how the man did it.

The older kids relentlessly complained on why he hadn't told them that the sushi chef was his dad. They just assumed that he had tried to keep it a secret from them. But the confusing thing was, those people from the few restaurants that he had managed to seek food from, didn't remember him other than being 'that Tsuyoshi's son'. And to this day, as he now officially helped the man in the shop as his new son, Takeshi couldn't understand how the man did what he did.

He was happy and that was all that mattered as he climbed on the stool and wiped the table clean before any customers showed up. For once, he could grin for all he was worth and actually mean it without worries holding him back. Though, his intentionally ignorant character and optimistic attitude stayed. Takeshi honestly didn't know if it was really him anymore or if it was just a coping mechanism. But, he was happy and Takeshi didn't agonize over it any longer.

It was the first time Takeshi had someone to call family.

Yamamoto Tsuyoshi saved him and more. So, Takeshi would always love his new father with all his heart.

6.

He was seven when Tsuyoshi finally deigned him decent enough to enter Elementary.

Takeshi had been excited and scared at the same time. It finally came to a point where he would be able to socialize with kids his age. In fact, the older kids he knew assured him that it would be just fine. His Japanese was understandable enough even if he stumbled a little now and then but it was a vast improvement to how it had been before. He still had a long way to go when it came to kanji though, even if Tsuyoshi repeatedly swore that most kids his age had the same problem and was still at the stage where hiragana and katakana still dominated most of their alphabets.

It only served to reassure him some, but not entirely.

Still, it had been such a surprise to discover that he was the second tallest in his class. He assumed, since Tsuyoshi told him that he had been malnourished, that it wouldn't be the case. But then again, he remembered having a mousy and miniature Asian classmate during nursery (although they called it Kindergarten in Japan) and how his homeroom teacher, Mrs. Wilson, once commented that Asian people were naturally short people compared to western people. He didn't comprehend what it really meant at the time but seeing himself tower over most of the kids in his class, he couldn't help but think that he might just understand now what she had been talking about back then.

The lessons were fun. Takeshi did always love learning especially when there was someone willing to teach him. When he had been three and had been a very curious child, he could remember babbling happily and asking Aunt Petunia all sorts of questions. Back then, when he was very small, she wasn't overly cruel and would hesitantly answer most of his queries. He didn't recall much but his last memory about the woman was how she had locked him out of the inn's room. His relatives disappeared the morning after that.

When he introduced himself, he couldn't help but muse at how different his life had turned out to be. And he was very glad that it did as he gave his brightest smile.

"Yo! I'm Yamamoto Takeshi," He tried to ignore the warm fluttering in his chest as he said that. He didn't know when he would be able to get over the fact that just hearing Yamamoto in his name always made him tremendously happy to the point when other people called him 'Yamamoto-san' or 'Yamamoto-kun', he would always beam back happily (with a touch of pride). "I love my tou-san, sushi, and milk." And he couldn't just go with 'like' since it was too light a word to describe his feelings. "And I love baseball, I hope to be able to join the school's team when I reach third grade," He chuckled and thought that maybe he said too much as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

Takeshi would always remember this moment.

This day was the starting point of when he formally began his new life.

7.

Takeshi didn't know how to handle the attention.

He was in third grade now.

Even if he had always been friendly to other people, instilled reactions were rather hard to cope with. The Dursleys pretty much ruined his self-esteem to the point that describing him as simply humble was a severe understatement. He never thought of himself as good in anything and rather just enjoyed things in a level that most children his age took for granted. And since he had been used to keeping his worries to himself, he had never learned to let go of the habit of deluding himself that everything was fine and the need not to burden other people. So, when he lost his book, he just laughed and told his dad (his heart still skipped a beat giddily at that) that it wasn't a big deal since they rarely used it in class anyway. When one of the kids called baseball stupid, even if he was irritated and wanted to get mad, he just grinned and told that kid that he would still play the sport even if it was the stupidest thing invented. When he saw other children interacting with their mothers, he would just smile and ignore the ache in his heart, always wondering if his real mother ever loved him.

Tsuyoshi, though, learned that he wasn't always honest to himself. But it was fine, the man told him that if he couldn't be honest to himself, at least he could try to be honest to his dad. And that made all the effort much bearable.

Growing up with relatives who pretty much hated his very existence, a neighbourhood who thought so lowly of him due to his 'good-for-nothing parents', and children who despised him at first sight due to a contemptuous cousin, Takeshi pretty much expected things to either be the same in Namimori or just be avoided and left alone. So, he just grinned when other kids always approached him about one thing or another and always made it a point to interact with him. He honestly didn't know what drew them in.

He didn't know how to handle the attention.

His grades were better than he expected (since he didn't want to let his dad down) and he was one of the top students in his grade level (usually in the seventh or eighth place), especially in English, and he did make due of his promise. Since he was now in third grade, he had tried out for the baseball team and due to acquaintances he always played with at the park, he had been backed up by several recommendations. He found himself being welcomed excitedly by new peers and, unexpectedly on his part, his popularity only seemed to expand further.

Apparently, the girls thought that he was cute and smart. The guys thought that he was cool, friendly, and helpful.

His father was proud of his accomplishments and Tsuyoshi had closed the sushi shop for the day in order for them to celebrate. Takeshi couldn't remember when was the last time he had felt such joy as he did that moment. The man had prepared his favourite sushi dish; toro and hamachi, and the man would always have a tall glass of milk beside it. Takeshi never complained as he grew to love the drink and was just happy that, even with this simple lifestyle, it never failed to make him the happiest. Tsuyoshi had also informed him that he would be starting to teach his son kendo and the ways of the sword. Takeshi had protested at first since it was evidently very important to the man and he wasn't convinced if he was the right person to inherit something his father had been very proud of since he could remember. But then, Tsuyoshi had effectively shot down his argument, saying that he wouldn't have bothered to adopt Takeshi if he wasn't even certain in the first place. And Takeshi resolved that he would do his best for the man.

He didn't know if he would ever be able to handle the attention. But, his dad made it liveable.

So, he smiled, laughed, and grinned and thought that anything was better than being hated.

8.

It was during fifth grade when Takeshi learned that popularity comes with a price.

Baseball was as fun as he always remembered it to be and honestly fell in love with the sport the more he played it. It didn't take long for the captain and the coach of the team to take notice of his raw potential. They always pushed him hard but Takeshi was just only too happy to comply. Baseball was an important aspect of his life now and, even if people wouldn't understand his devotion to it, he would always regard it as one of his saviours.

His grades were still good and he made sure to always balance it out with his extra-curricular activity during that one time he almost failed an exam in science. Their training had been intense that day and he had been so tired to even bother lifting a book and embedding theories and terms into his head. Tsuyoshi didn't mind as long as he knew where his real priorities lay.

Yamamoto Takeshi was naive.

He didn't know what really made him so but it was what his father always remarked when looking at him.

Still, he might just believe it after his most numbing discovery.

Popularity comes with a price.

Takeshi didn't know if he preferred the outright hostility or the crude remarks behind his back while he wasn't listening. The coach had called him to stay after practice one Wednesday afternoon while his teammates piled in the locker room. The man, Hitokiri Shun-sensei, told him to keep up his record and he would surely be a professional player by the time he was eighteen. Expectedly, he had blushed at the praise and thanked the man profusely. He wouldn't know just how much those words meant to Takeshi.

As he was dismissed and moving to the locker room, he heard most of the guys laughing.

He grinned and was about to barge in and surprise them when he heard his name. Naturally, he was curious and leaned on the wall just beside the doorway outside the room. The hallway was devoid of any student since class had left off early. So, he wondered what they were discussing and was already planning of ways to tease them of gossiping about him like how the other girls had grown prone to do nowadays. And if there was something that easily annoyed them, it was being compared to girls.

"Geez, that Yamamoto, always hogging the attention!" One of the guys, Takeshi was sure that it was Sasaki Shouta, stated contemptuously and an obvious frown could be heard in his tone. "I mean, I get it, he's good at baseball but he's also good in academics. So, what's the big deal?"

Takeshi froze.

What?

"You're just jealous," A voice, Inoue Ryuusuke, mocked with a scoff. There was a period of silence. "But, I would be to, I guess, considering Yamamoto's practically everybody's favourite," He amended hastily but there was a subtle bitterness in his words.

"The girls just loved him. He's smart and athletic. But, damn, that guy just smiles too much. I can still remember when some jealous brat intentionally spilled juice on his jersey last year. And what does he do? The guy laughs it off as if the brat's just tripped and did it accidentally," Takeshi could no longer identify the owner of the voice. They had started to mix up and become distorted somewhere along the lines of the animosity and resentment he was hearing.

There was some shuffling and Takeshi didn't dare move or breathe.

"But, hey, he's good at baseball and we need him on the team. I may not really like him but I like to graduate elementary with a victory written in my record," Another remarked almost offhandedly as if he just hadn't stated that he had every intention of using Takeshi.

Said boy was numb as he gripped the rim of his baseball cap tightly, his hand shaking all the while.

"Got to give the guy some credit, though, he's really helpful. My homework in mathematics were all straight A's due to him." Someone laughed and it was followed by the others.

"Still, if he isn't just...too good–"

Takeshi had enough.

"Yo, guys! Sorry for the wait!" Takeshi barged in loudly as he grinned, ignoring the way their eyes widened or how they squirmed in his sudden presence. He continued grinning as he went to his locker and immediately packed his things.

It was suspiciously silent.

"Hey, aren't you going to take a shower first? You stink, Yamamoto," Shouta teased him almost good-naturedly but Yamamoto already heard him. And this time, he wasn't blind to the dislike burning in the other's gaze.

"Ha-ha, my dad needs me early today, something about helping in the shop," He laughed and avoided meeting any of their stares.

They easily agreed with his reason and let him leave it like that.

As he trotted out of the locker room, he broke into a sprint and it wasn't until he was outside the school gates did he slow his stride. His smile was still intact but it wasn't until he felt something warm in his cheeks did he realize that he was also crying. He hastily wiped them away. If Tsuyoshi saw him like this, then the man would worry and it was the last thing Takeshi wanted. He didn't know if he should feel relieved to know the truth or not.

He knew that he couldn't always make people like him but he hadn't honestly realized that even his friends hated him too. Removing his cap, he laughed and it hurt because it sounded so hollow, and he inwardly conceded that laughing was certainly better than crying. It meant being able to mask the hurt, even for a moment.

During the next few days, he wasn't as surprised as he should be by then to discover that several people shared the same opinion of him and he wondered where he went wrong. But he couldn't hate them for it, because surely, it was his fault. At least, not all of them hated him.

Popularity comes with a price. But Takeshi never asked for popularity to begin with.

9.

By the time he graduated elementary, he got mediocre and barely passable grades in his records.

Tsuyoshi was undoubtedly furious with him but Takeshi wouldn't budge and just tell him that maybe he just wasn't that smart to begin with. The man didn't believe him but he obviously suspected something was up when Takeshi stopped inviting his team or any of his friends over the shop since the start of sixth grade.

He still played baseball. But, he wasn't doing it for the team anymore. He now knew that.

Though, looking back through his previous years, he was glad that the odd things which kept on happening to him before (like turning something into different colors, or that time an object flew to his hand without question, or that time he woke up on the living room when he had been sure that he fell asleep on his bed) had dulled. Though, curiously enough, it was when he had started learning kendo from his father. He didn't know what Tsuyoshi had seen in him but his father always emphasized on resolve. The man had so far only taught him the basics since he wasn't old enough or didn't have the resolve Tsuyoshi was looking for in order to pass down his techniques yet. Takeshi wouldn't give up. For his father.

Even though he knew what they really thought of him, it didn't stop Takeshi from reaching out to them. His team had gotten mellower over the year and, somehow, Takeshi felt that he was making progress. He didn't know if they still disliked him but the resentment in their eyes had died down into respect. The teachers and some of his classmates were baffled at the sudden decline of his grades but Takeshi had always been good at ignoring most of everything. So he laughed it off and gave the same excuse that he gave his father.

And people were not born cruel, so Takeshi gave everyone a chance, after all, there had been those people who disliked him initially but had warmed up to him after some time. He still had mixed feelings about his popularity but at least, it was more bearable.

He wondered how Sasagawa Kyoko could handle it and, sometimes, he couldn't even tell who was better at being ignorant between the two of them.

10.

Middle school was not really that different from elementary. Except, there's this really cool guy who beat anyone who broke the school rules.

And the social ladder that he had managed to intentionally overlook reared its head more evidently. So, it had been no shock to him when more people swarmed to him and Sasagawa. Sometimes, the lines blurred between 'friends' and 'fans' to him.

Though, that was when he also started to take notice of Sawada Tsunayoshi. The boy who was at the very bottom of the proverbial food chain. Most of their classmates addressed him as Dame-Tsuna and Takeshi just mostly gently chastised others about calling other people names. They only did it when he was there, but most of the time, he knew the mocking would always be present. Still, the shorter boy didn't really mind that much and he never let himself be pressured into being someone he wasn't just because everybody didn't want who he was. For that alone, he had earned Takeshi's respect and admiration.

After all, he had sacrificed his grades just for that reason alone.

He remembered his dad's words. If he couldn't be honest to himself, at least, he should try to be honest to his dad. Takeshi didn't know if he had even tried in the first place.

Still, one of the major changes that would start occurring to him during the start of middle school was having Tanaka Ichirou knocking on their doorstep.

He was a Representative for the Japanese Magical Federation.

Takeshi wouldn't know that it was just one of the many things to come. After all, unknown to anyone just yet, a specific Arcobaleno had already set his sights on him. It was just a matter of time when everything would fall into place.

TBC...

Important Notes: First of all, I know that Takeshi learned Kendo properly just before the fight with the Varia. But I believe that even with how athletic he was and had fast reflexes from being a 'natural born hitman', I don't think he could just master the art of the sword in a week especially when against someone of Squalo's calibre. At least, with the basics already instilled within him, it would be more believable how he had strived to master the forms of the Shigure Soen Ryu within such short notice. Even Reborn surely didn't master how use a gun properly within a day. As for how learning Kendo helped in controlling his magical outburst, I learned that Kendo was also about temperament and since magic always worked on emotions and intent, it would be toned down. Especially since what I have in mind regarding about it. Both flames and magic are part of a person's life force, right? So, imagine if you could only use one of them. You can't have both at the same time. It would be one of the highlights in my story. Regardless, whether Tsuyoshi and Takeshi were aware of it or not, the resolve in learning his father's art had awakened Takeshi's potential to use his Rain Flames earlier. That's why he manages to light the flame on his ring on his first try in the Future Arc.

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