The loops always captivated him. The way the line would grow bold and thin. The way the ink would stand out with a golden outline.
23. The number was so far into the future. Tsuna would stare at the tattoo daydreaming about who could have such beautiful handwriting.
Everyone else's was in a simple print. Yamamoto's is a harsh, angry 14. Kaa-san has a hurried 25 scrawled on her. Even Ryohie has a basic 6 that somehow screams intelligence.
But Tsuna's was not hurried, not angry, not basic.
No his looped and swirled like complicated calligraphy that dances across his skin. It always made him wonder what why he was so different.
So everytime he saw it, he wondered. He wondered who he was. What he is like. What he looks like.
But mainly, he how they would meet. Slowly he counted down the days.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Reborn always wondered about his tattoo. The 13 scribbled across his arm still managing to convey a sense importance in every word.
He wonders how someone has the ability to do that with their writing. It isn't the most beautiful but it somehow is perfect to him.
He would never admit how he looks at the number every night. How he studies the unfine edge that looks similar to a pencil line. The way the 1 has a tail and the 3 curls in on itself. How the warm orange surrounding it is inviting and accepting no matter what.
He would never admit how he wonders who could draw those numbers that way. The way that those unfine lines seem so definite and the way the black is so deep, you could almost step into it. How the person who wrote those numbers seem to be able to accept no matter what.
He would never admit that everytime he is on a dangerous mission, he hopes that he could survive to meet them.
So even as he grows farther and farther past 13 and gets cursed by Checkerface, he never let's go of the childish dream of a soulmate. Because maybe, just maybe, he would be accepted.
Be welcomed.
Be loved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The darkness outside the window was warded away by a lamp on a desk full of paperwork. A brunet was asleep on the desk as a shadow slipped into the room. Silently, the shadow crept up to the desk, pulling out a gun. The gun was trained on the brunet and before he pulled the trigger a voice rung out. "Welcome home, Reborn. "
The figure's eyes peered into orange suns as a smirk pulls across his face. He lowers his gun and puts it back into his holster. "Chaos, Dame-Tsuna."
The brunet's welcoming smile falls into a pout. "Am I still not good enough to be called just Tsuna? I haven't missed a day of work and I even sensed you entering the room."
Reborn chuckles. "You will always be Dame-Tsuna." He glides around the desk and swoops Tsuna into his arms, walking to the hidden door into Tsuna's room.
The brunet's pout fades and is replaced once again by his warm smile. He sticks his head in Reborn's neck and pecks his neck. "Still so mean to me after these years. Still, welcome home."
Reborn drops Tsuna on the bed and sheds his jacket and shoes. Takes of his tie and socks, and then slides into the covers. Tsuna wraps his arms around him and he returns it.
In the morning when Tsuna opens his eyes and looks to see a note in the place of Reborn. In the kitchen.
He smiles, knowing the handwriting is the same handwriting he has looked at for that last 23 years. The same handwriting he recognized 5 years ago. The same handwriting he fell in love with.
The handwriting of his soulmate.