Haruha and Leo, they have reasons to be crazy. Good reasons. Tanya can't imagine going through what they have, and that just makes it worse. She doesn't have bad guys she can fight, or demons she can face. She can't comfort herself with the thought of some future revenge, because there's nothing to get revenge for
. She just started out crazy. Her earliest memories are of her father's company's parties; her mother always dressed her nice, told her over and over what to do and how to act. Now don't hide behind me the whole time. Say hello to people when they talk to you. Play nicely with the other children.
And Tanya would look in the mirror, at her long hair up in a bow, and her dress, and her freckles, and feel like a more awkward creature had never been born. Hatched, maybe—-baby birds with their useless wings and horrifying eyes. But not born.
And then they would go to the party, and there would be so many people, and the sound, and the movement. Tanya held her mother's hand so tight, that her mother finally couldn't take it anymore, detached her with difficulty, and let her clamp onto her skirt instead. Some well-meaning person would look down at her, and ask “Well, what's your name,” or some such.
“Hello,” she would tell them from behind her mother.
And they would tease her gently, and she would cry, and her mother would apologize and take her into the hall until she calmed down. Then, back inside. And when her mother couldn't bear having such a hopeless little child at her side for any longer, or if the conversation turned to things Tanya wasn't supposed to understand, she would say, “Now go play with the other children.” And Tanya would have to go.
If she didn't end up crying, it would be because she either ran out of the room, or shut down around herself and screamed until someone took her away.
And then, then she discovered the forest, where the fear couldn't find her. School was horrible, terrifying, but at least it was always the same swirl of faces surrounding her. She survived, somehow, hiding the panic when it crept up into her. She could fight it off, usually, if she fought the people that brought it to her. Whether she won or lost, it helped, not to make the fear go away, but to hide it. Manage it. It became habit, and everyone had one more reason to hate her, though they'd had enough already.
Her parents couldn't understand how she turned out to be such an awful, unsocial little child. Her teachers couldn't do a thing with her, usually gave up trying within a few months. Her peers? Ha. She was the lowest of the low, the leper, the one no-one wanted anything to do with. It was fine by her. If they stayed away, she wasn't afraid.
But then she would see them. Smiling, happy, connected. She would see them touch, and want someone to touch her. She would see them talking, without needing to think about what they said. Always knowing how to act with each other. She wondered what that could be like, to be so happy, to not be afraid, and she wanted it more than anything. But she couldn't let herself want it, because she knew, knew as if she'd seen the book of fate and held it in her hands, that she could never have it. She was just broken; defective; missing the instincts that told her how to be a proper human being.
And then, there was Senna.