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Tsubone hated children.

Even when she was a child herself, she found their high pitched squealing and asinine games trite and wearing. Luckily, by the age of ten she had already begun to tower over her peers, affording her a certain level of distance (if only from eye-level), and a newfound ability to menace them without recourse. It felt good, having this little power over the smaller and similarly powerless. After all, where she came from the only true currency was power, and invariably, the smaller (and weaker) fell to the larger.

When she learned that her new job would eventually include the occasional torture of children, she did not balk. If anything, she felt a small flicker of glee; any child born into this household would be reliably afforded comforts that her compatriots from Meteor City could never dream of: food, heat, security, and eventually, power.

The first thing that did give her pause was the knowledge that the mistress of the house was from Meteor City, much like herself. Worse, she was a mere teenager. Not quite an adult, and yet in the position to rule over her and decide her fate within the household. A waif-like, slip of a girl who frequently threw fits (and subsequently, objects), much as one might expect of a teenage girl. It was clear though the precise power that the mistress had leveraged to find herself in such a position– despite lacking any remarkable qualities (in Tsubone’s opinion), she possessed a beauty that was clearly enough to promise attractive children. Though Tsubone did not begrudge the mistress for using any and all methods to liberate herself from Meteor City, she still found enduring the manner in which she conducted herself –as if she was now her better– to be the greatest challenge of her role.

Still, she was nothing if not dedicated, and so she treated the screeching child called ‘Mistress’ with the utmost respect. No more so than after she began her incubation, and thus finally fulfilled her only true purpose in being there. It would be the first of many such events, she was sure.

Tsubone’s feelings towards babies were not dissimilar to her feelings towards children. Happily, the mistress was disinclined to leave her with babysitting duty; she had once petulantly complained that she was too high to reach to pass her new child to. Tsubone had smiled serenely, and congenially agreed with her assessment. Internally, she hoped that the baby strayed from its frequent periods of silence and screamed until the mistress’ ears bled.

It surprised her that the mistress did not immediately begin carrying again after her first successful birth. Instead, she deflated back to her previous tiny form –apparently a lifetime of malnutrition in Meteor City had left an indelible mark– and fully dedicated herself to her firstborn.

It was still a few more years before Tsubone became actively involved in the raising (or rather, training) of the child. Even then, it was not so much a dedicated role as a rotating task. She had heard something in passing about this being so as to prevent the formation of attachments (from either the child or his ‘teacher’). Not that there was much risk of her becoming attached to any child, let alone one who had started to look increasingly like his mother. Because of this resemblance, she began to find her sessions with the child a useful outlet for when the mistress had been particularly trying; which, frankly, was the mistress’ almost constant state of being.

Eventually, either by her own sense of duty or by stern reminder, the mistress remembered her place and produced another child. This one, again, swiftly grew to resemble his mother. The mistress pampered and dressed him up, happy to have a child she was allowed to coddle. The child, like his mother, quickly became demanding and took to screaming demands. Often, these demands were for all manner of unhealthy treats. Tsubone took no small amount of pleasure in seeing the once small child balloon into a size most unbecoming of his expected profession; she took even greater pleasure in seeing the mistress’ subsequent distress, and the constant berating that the ugly child received for his failings. Though his size had made him unsightly to his family, Tsubone found his distortion of the mistress’ beauty (which he had surely inherited) a joy to see.

There was another long period of rest following the birth of the ugly child, even longer than the first. If the butlers valued their lives less, she expected that she would have heard gossip around the fertility of the mistress, or perhaps for the especially suicidal, gossip about her decreasing desirability to the master. When it became apparent that there would soon be a third child, Tsubone braced herself for another disgusting clone of its banshee of a mother. Instead, the household was blessed with a beautiful white haired child: Killua. Unlike the first child and the ugly child, this one reflected his father’s noble bearing, and brought wide smiles to the faces of his father and grandfather. Quite rightly, it did not take long for this child to be declared the future heir of the household– the first child forgotten.

Unlike the previous children, Tsubone sought out opportunities to interact with Killua. She did not attempt to occupy any kind of delicate, maternal role. Even if she possessed the required softness for him to take to her in such a way, the limits of her position prevented her from being too lenient or indulgent. Instead, she comfortably slipped into the role of a stern yet fair caregiver– a role that, as an adult, she knew Killua would respect.

The fourth child arrived quickly after Killua. She quietly wondered if the mistress had felt emboldened by her previous success, and was attempting to create a similarly perfect child. Alas, the woman had again overestimated herself, and produced yet another dark haired, seemingly unremarkable child. Even the consolation of blue eyes was not enough to separate this fourth child from the banal productive line that was the first two children.

Tsubone ended up being surprised by this fourth child however, as the child began to manifest strange, unexplainable powers. Though happy to write this child off as the inevitable demonic result of the mistress’ attempts to self-replicate, Young Master Killua did not feel the same way. Instead, he openly favoured the demonic child, choosing to spend the majority of his free time playing with just his third sibling. Because of this, Tsubone also took an interest in the demon child, and continued to do so long after the child had been separated from the rest of the family.

The final child, yet another dark haired clone of its mother, emerged in quick succession after Killua and Alluka. Much as Young Master Killua seemed to be, Tsubone was disinterested in this child, and preferred to spend her time on other tasks. At the same time, her attempts to remain within proximity of Killua were problematised by the seemingly constant attention of the now teenaged first child. His features had not grown away from resembling his mother’s over the years, but unlike his mother, he did not spare her the disquieting chore of occasionally making eye contact with him. Somewhat balancing the annoyance of his constant fussing over Young Master Killua, he also took to overseeing his other siblings, thus sparing the staff from some of the effort of doing so themselves. If not glued to his horrible mother’s side, the final child could often be seen being carried around by the first child, and would cling to his older brother and mother like a security blanket. Tsubone despaired of a Zoldyck child so in need of attention, but otherwise gave him little thought.

Close to ten years later, Tsubone returned from helping Young Master Killua and Alluka in their escape attempt. Despite her wretched mistress and her horrible eldest children’s intervention, the two had been successful. She was able to return to the manor, head held high. She reflected on her choices, finding herself deeply satisfied.

“Yes, Mistress,” she said, knowing that the mistress’ worth was only measured by the success of her children.

“Yes, Master,” she said, placated by the memories of feeding the first child poison until he vomited blood.

“Yes, Master,” she said, as she remembered the times the ugly child had wet himself due to her ministrations with electricity.

“Yes, Young Master,” she said, safe in the knowledge that she had successfully ingratiated herself to her future master, and secured her role in the household for many years to come.

“Yes, Young Master,” she said, pleased with her gamble in befriending the demonic child, having both been able to both prove herself to Killua and pre-emptively save herself, should said demonic powers ever be fully harnessed.

“Yes, Young Master,” she said, on the rare occasion that she was called upon to interact with the final, and frankly, unnecessary, child.

“Yes, Master,” she said to the patriarch of the family– the only one who held any real power over her.