Disclaimer: I don't own KHR, but I wish I did.

Of Times Gone By

Chapter 1 - I'm Sorry

'I hate you!' A door slammed closed followed by the sound of footsteps striking the floor, fading away the farther they got. Behind the closed door, a man ran his long fingers through his hair; a sad look on his face.

A flickering candle situated in the corner of the room illuminated the piles of books and various knick knacks scatters across the floor. The walls were covered with photographs both new and old and picture drawn messily in crayon. Shadows danced just at the edge of the light, drawing ever closer as the candle started to burn out. The steady fall of rain, the occasional flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder provided a chilling atmosphere that felt out of place in the usually lively mansion.

There was a lone figure kneeling at the outer edge of the halo, sorting through the mess that she created in a fit of rage. Picking up one of the various albums the figure skimmed through the pages. Slowing down after the first few pages as more and more pictures caught her attention. Shaking hands flipped through the pages as memories of happier times flashed through her head. The images began to blur together as moisture gathered in the corners of their eyes. Before long, Choshiro had to stop to wipe away the tears. Placing the album in a box filled with several other albums, she pulled another book out of the pile.

'That's odd.' It was a worn leather bound book with multiple sticky notes and pieces of paper sticking out in every direction at odd intervals. And it was heavy. Much heavier than the novels and albums before it. The binding was falling apart from usage and the dark colour was starting to fade at the edges. A fraying red bookmark hung out limply from the bottom, squished between the pages for who knows how long. Curiosity getting the better of her, Choshiro cracked open the book. Glancing over the chicken scratch, her eyes widened at what she was reading.

'It's a diary!' Carefully flipping back to the first page, her suspicions were confirmed by the name written in pencil.

Sawada Tsunayoshi

'I didn't know that Papa kept a diary...or that his writing was so messy! ' The writing she was used to was smooth and neat, clearly legible and befitting of a top notch mafia boss , unlike the chicken scratch Japanese characters marking the pages.

'Then again, I don't know very much about him.' Her eyes watered once more at the thought of her father. With her father being a mafia boss and all, not much was know about his life before he claimed the title. Everything was either erased or kept under lock and key to protect the civilians where her father used to live. Or so she heard.

Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, she turned the page and continued reading.

August 17th, 19XX

Dear Journal,

I don't know why I'm doing this. It's not like anyone's going to care. Right? Because who cares about me? I guess I'm just lonely...I don't even know what to write about! Pretty pathetic right? Hey journal, i know you're an inanimate object but... I just need a place to unload. I hope you don't mind. I'm Sawada Tsunayoshi or Dame-Tsuna by the way. I have a mother who is a ditz and a father who is never here, and I've lived in Namimori, Japan my whole life. I'm 13 years old, I don't have any friends, and I fail at everything. Pretty boring right?

Today was the first day of school and I just know it's gonna be a horrible year. Mochida found me today, and well, let's just say I'm STILL hurting! One day...just you watch. Nezu is my math teacher again. Of all the rotten luck in the world! What's the point of studying if I know that he's not even gonna give me a chance. Is he even qualitfied?! Half the class doesn't know what he's talking about!

'Mochida? He beat up Papa? I thought he worked under Papa.' That can't be right! Mochida is such a nice guy. He would never!

Kyoko-chan said hi to me today. I thought I was in heaven. Although her friend, Hana called me a monkey. I honestly have no idea why she said that. Do I smell weird? Back to Kyoko. She's so kind to me, even though I'm a dame. She even helped me on my homework once! I got the seat behind her this year so maybe this year won't be as bad as I thought. Maybe I can even ask her out this year!

'Kyoko...as in AUNTIE Kyoko?!'

I keep getting this weird felling in the pit of my stomach. I hope I don't get sick! Then I won't get to see Kyoko-chan! I hope that this year is better than last year at least. I know your just a book and all, but wish me luck, cause I could really use some.

T.S

P.S - Calling you journal all the time is gonna get annoying. Note to self, think up a name for you.

Flipping to the next page, Choshiro continued reading. The next several entries were similar to the first entry. The date on top of every page indicated that the entries were few and far in between, but she could picture the life that the boy in the journal had. She could see a boy, a bit older than her, walking to school, getting bullied and ridiculed. She could see how embarrassed and ashamed he was when his own mother called him a no-good son in front of the neighbours. She saw a boy who fantasized about how his life could have been better. She saw the life of a boy who had no meaning.

The images provided didn't fit with the images of a strong and loving father that she had. Choshiro had always imagined that her father had been a popular kid going to a prestigious school and getting top marks. Not failing in some no names school and alone. Who knew that her Papa was just a normal person. Growing up, she had been surrounded by stories of how great of a boss her father was and all that he had accomplished during his relatively short reign. Just as Choshiro was about to read on to the next entry. A knock on the door caused her to jump and nearly drop the fragile journal.

"Shiro~, I'm visiting Tsuna with Hayato, do you want to come along?" Uncle Takeshi stood at the threshold, slightly leaning on the doorframe with a small smile on his face.

"Yeah, just give me a second." Tucking the journal into her bag before turning around and grabbing a hold of the offered hand. "Let's go."

Receiving a nod in return, they made their way do the hall towards the infirmary. Part way there, they were joined by Hayato, who was carrying a bundle of primroses. Two questioning eyebrows were raised.

"They are Juudaime's favourite" Nodding in acceptance, the trio made their way to the infirmary. The trip was silent, each person lost in their own thoughts. Pushing open the swinging doors as they arrived, they walked over to the far end of the infirmary where and opened the door into a private room. An eerie green glow radiated off of the heart monitor and the smells of medicine assaulted their nose. The two guardians made their way to the bedside, leaving Choshiro by the door. Hayato grabbed a vase from off a shelf and filled it up with water, all the while rattling of about his day and how the familiga was holding up. Takeshi put in his two cents every now and then. After placing the flowers among the many that stood on the table and saying a few last words, both guardians left, leaving Choshiro alone with her father.

'I hate you!'

Silence filled the room, only broken be the beeping of the heart monitor. Choshiro took her father's warm hands before sitting down.

"Hey Papa, how are you?" Silence.

"The Vongola's holding together pretty well. Everyone's worried though so wake up soon, ne?" The peaceful face of her father looked back at her.

"Grandpa's working a hole in carpet you know I bet he's -" the sentence stuck in her throat and no matter how much she tried to hold them back, tears crept back into her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please just wake up again. Please Papa. I miss you." Nothing changed. He didn't wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be alright and he didn't smile that goofy smile that said things would get better. Tsuna's eyes stayed closed like they had been for the past two weeks.

The lone man in the room grabbed his cloak from off the hanger before turning towards the window. Glancing back into the room, he sighed, and jumped out of the window. Brilliant orange flames lit his hands and propelled him towards his destination. Not leaving behind a trace. The wind blew through the now open window, ruffling the letter he left on his desk and carrying one final message.

"I'm sorry"

AN: Soooooooooooooo...what did you think? Any response of any kind would be greatly apperciated.

Please Review :)