A/N: ...I just needed to write this down somewhere, and thought it couldn't hurt to post it.

It is not technically necessary to listen to the song that inspired this while reading it, but it is highly recommended, as it does set the mood. :3

Anyways, this is technically a songfic, inspired by the British alternative rock band, Coldplay, and their song, Viva La Vida. I do not claim to own either Coldplay, Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, or really, anything you may recognize. All I own is the brain I thought of this idea with, and the fingers I typed it out with.

Besides the disclaimer, enjoy~!

"You do not have to do this…" he pleaded one last time, but I just shook my head and waved as I boarded my train.

"Goodbye, G. Take care of them for me," I smiled, hoping he could not see how much this hurt, how much I wanted to flee, fly away from this new fate, go back to the days when we could all trust each other.

That will never happen again.

Trying not to freeze in place, I continued walking, and did my best to ignore my Hyper Intuition.

I sat in the corner of the train, and even though I was dressed down from what I usually wore- Used to wear. -I was still wearing the fanciest outfit in the train car.

Ignoring the happy families, the smiling friends, I looked out the window at the rolling hillsides of Italy that I would be leaving forever.

The sun was just rising, painting everything a brilliant gold, just like Daemon's vision of the Vongola's future.

I know this is what you wanted, but was it worth it?

I could not take the pain it brought me anymore, and sighed as I turned away.

"What is wrong, Mister?"

I jumped, unsure if my skills at detecting people had really faded enough that a civilian could startle me so easily.

The girl who had sat down next to me was small, no older than five. Her immediate trust of someone like me, so deeply rooted in the darkness of the world that it had grown tired of my virtues and kicked me out, was frightening.

She was perceptive, however, and caught on to my slight frown. She gave a small, strained smile. "Again I ask, what is wrong, Mister?"

"Nothing, child." Liar. "Where are your parents? I am sure they would be worried to see you talking to a stranger all alone on a train."

She stared right through my concerned frown, searching my eyes for something I doubted I had anymore. At last, she gave a small smile, sighed, and turned away.

"I do not know why I am trusting you, but I am. Normally I would have tried, and quite possibly failed, to pickpocket you. Then if you caught on and tried to retaliate, I would scream rape, and you would be either persecuted or thrown off the train, while I rode it to safety," she listed off on one hand, carefree as a child her age should be, while kicking her feet back and forth.

She is not lying.

Trying not to gape at her blatancy, I settled for raising an eyebrow, to which she laughed. "To answer your question, I do not have any parents. At least, not anymore."

She had became more somber, just like I had been a moment or two ago, and my own mood darkened. I had heard this story too many times in my lifetime, and while I always tried to extend my help, I could not save every child that came my way.

This was different though. I owed it to this little girl dressed in rags, who had so bravely sat next to a complete stranger and began telling her life story. I owed it to her, to at least try.

"May I ask, why are you on this train then?"

"Oh, that?" she giggled again, which lifted both of our moods. "Maman gave me a bit of money before she was killed." I kept my face calm, but at the word 'killed', my intuition spiked. There is more to that story than she is telling.

"She told me to run as far and as fast as I could, so I thought, 'What is faster than a train?'. So here I am. Once I get off this ride, I'll have enough money for say, maybe one or two more rides, but then I am on my own."

She sighed, and I had a sudden thought. "Well, pardon me for my rudeness, but if you have no family… Would you like to come with me?"

The bright smile she gave in response was the best thing I had seen in years.

.-.=.-.=.-.=.-.

We jumped on and off trains for a while, before I finally made a decision to where I would be living the rest of my life; a small village outside of a big city in Japan that reminded me of home.

I tried to ask my companion multiple times what the name her parents had given her had been. However, no matter how long I asked, she would not budge, saying that the past was the past. It was that reason that we called each other 'Miss' and 'Mister' until we received the names Japanese Immigration would decide for us.

When we were given our new names to live in Japan, I was surprised at how well they described the girl next to me: Fukami Amaya, meaning 'Mystic Night Rain'. I had immediately thought upon meeting her that Amaya would either be a Mist or a Rain flame user, or a combination, so to have her name reflect that was strangely fitting.

No matter how much I pondered it, I could not understand why they had named me 'Sawada Ieyasu', but I would not question my chance to live a new life here, away from the darkness of my past.

Sadly, nothing ever went quite that right for someone like me.

.-.=.-.=.-.=.-.

"Hey, Baka-Yasu."

I twitched at her new pet-name for me. "Yes, Amaya?"

"Why exactly did you leave Italy? I mean, I told you my story; you should at least tell me yours."

"…" Memories I had not thought of in months came flooding back in; of Sepira and her claim that Vongola would become great, to the hurt I felt when Daemon betrayed Cozart Shimon and I for the first time.

"…Another time, Amaya. For now, I'll say that I did something I regret, and my friends got mad at me. They tried to forgive me, but in the end, I left, to spare us all the pain."

The girl was still young and innocent, so she just cocked her head and said, "Well, if you did something bad, just ask Saint Peter for forgiveness, and if he can forgive you, then your friends should be able to, too."

I just had to laugh at that; I had killed so many people with these blood-stained hands. I doubted any of the Saints could even look my way without cringing.

"Somehow, I do not think that will happen."

.-.=.-.=.-.=.-.

"Baka-Yasu! Get the door please; I am cooking dinner!" screamed a now eight-year-old Amaya, who as soon as she could had learned how to cook. Apparently, despite the many gifts I had, the Vongola Primo could not cook for the life of him.

"Hai, hai!" I shouted back bemusedly. Two years had passed, and the little six-year old had grown like a bean-stalk, now almost twice her peers' heights.

Schooling had been a hassle for the little upstart, but I would not let her not get an education, and in the end I won.

I shuffled down the hall, yawning, while I stole a piece of bread from the chef's plate of food that was cooling when her back was turned.

Taking a bite, I cringed at the heat that immediately burned my tongue, while Amaya laughed at my expense. I childishly glared, and she shooed me towards the door.

I conceded defeat as I approached the door, and when I opened it, I started out with the usual greeting.

"Hello, this is the Sawada residence! How may I he- lp… you…?" I trailed off as I stared at the equally confused, but better concealed, face of a certain platinum blonde.

"A-Alaude?!"

I know it's short, but I have a habit of writing for short bits of time, and if I try to write for a longer time I run out of ideas :c So here I am, posting a story little over a thousand words, just to mess with you all. Hehe.

This shouldn't be too long; At first I figured it'd be a one-shot, but now I suppose it'll be a multi-chapter exceeding no more than ten chapters, if I make them all short, that is. Tell me your thoughts, if you love the idea, great! :3 If you hate it... Mind telling me why?

If there ends up being any OOC-ness later on, I'm sincerely sorry, but in all honesty, the First Generation doesn't get too much screen-time as far as their personalities, so a lot of this is just me making it up as I go along.