Hello everyone! :)

So originally I wanted to read a brilliantly-written fic about the formation of the Vongola... before realising that no such fic existed, at least to my knowledge. So instead I have decided to write one (sans the brilliantly-written part, but I digress). So obviously this is a KHR fic about the formation of the Vongola, in the era of the Vongola Primo (Giotto). It will end up encompassing all his Guardians and Simon Cozarto, though it is, for its part, Giotto and G-centric.

There will be no romance or pairings (except Daemon and Elena), very little angst (hopefully) and minimum OCs (unless the story calls for it, but even so, no Mary Sues-I can guarantee that). It'll just be a good old-fashioned action-packed family bonding adventure fic, which is exactly the sort of stuff I was looking for.

I wrote this for Camp NaNoWriMo July 2014, and though it isn't finished yet, I have a good 50,000 words worth, so I can guarantee that I will update to the end. I hope for regular-ish updates once a week, because at the moment I have a raw manuscript, and I need to edit.

Thanks for reading this far, I won't hinder you any further. I hope you enjoy :)

The first time Giotto saw the boy, his fiery red hair was a like a torch amidst the green leaves. Halfway up the tree, the boy was balancing on the thinnest of branches, using the natural bend of the branches to spring up, almost flying from one branch to another. Up he shot like a bullet, the flame that marked his head swimming in and out between the leaves, sometimes disappearing from sight, but almost always flaring up after a few seconds.

Standing on the ground with his neck craned up, Giotto could not help but marvel at this boy. He was truly extraordinary, able to climb to such heights and balance so precariously with no fear to the world. And he could not have been more than eight years old—indeed about as old as Giotto himself was.

The redhead was almost at the top when something caught Giotto's eye, and his heart skipped a beat. The branch the boy was standing on was starting to bend unnaturally; he could see cracks forming near the base of the branch.

"Look out!" he shouted.

The boy looked down at the voice, and Giotto saw his eyes widen. As the branch snapped in half, he lunged forward and grabbed onto another, much sturdier, branch. Giotto breathed a sigh of relief as the boy hung in midair, his fingers a death-grip around the branch. There was nothing but that to stop him from falling.

"Thanks for that!" he called down.

"No problem," Giotto replied. "You're a really good climber!"

Even from his distance, he could see the redhead grin—his eyes lit up, his teeth bared. "Gee," he said.

"What?"

"That's my name! G.!"

Giotto tilted his head to one side in confusion. The letter G? Or Gee? Was it perhaps short from something, or a common name in another country? Giotto had never been out of Italy, and he didn't know. But nevertheless, he decided he didn't want to sound foolish, so he looked up and yelled, "I'm Giotto!"

The boy—G.—nodded in acknowledgement. "Can you climb?"

"I might die!"

"That's the fun of it!" Still grinning, G. let go of his branch and plunged straight down—much to Giotto's horror—but caught himself just before he reached the ground. Finally, the redhead landed with both feet firmly planted, and brushed himself off. "So if you can't climb, what can you do?"

"Uh ... I can ... I can..." He paused, internally cursing himself for being unable to think of anything. "I can paint," he said at last. It was actually a lie—he couldn't paint, or at least, nobody had ever liked his paintings. But he couldn't stay silent!

But still ... painting ... what a stupid thing to say.

"Cool," said G., his eyes lighting up. "My papa's a painter. He goes all around the world to promote them."

Giotto sweatdropped. Now there was no way he could make himself seem great, since G.'s papa was a professional.

"I haven't seen you around here before," G. continued, oblivious to Giotto's embarrassment. "Are you new?"

The boy nodded. "We've just moved here from Venezia."

G.'s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, and for a moment he looked like a puppy who had just spotted his favourite toy. "Venice! Why did you choose a place like Bovegno over Venezia?"

"Papa says he wants a quieter life. It's always so loud in Venezia."

G. grinned, but it was more of an apologetic expression than an amused one. "You've come to the right place, Giotto. Nothing ever happens here."

-vongola-

When the holidays finished and the start of school rolled around in September, Giotto set off with his new friend—indeed, thus far, his only friend—on their hour-long walk to school in the neighbouring town of Trevi. Neither of their parents could afford a carriage to send them to school, but G. assured his friend that it was much more fun walking.

Giotto could soon see why. With the young sun warming up the day, and with the cool breeze of autumn tickling the back of his neck, it was a lovely sensation to walk, and what better company than with a friend?

"Did you used to walk to school by yourself?" Giotto asked absent-mindedly, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes.

G. shrugged. "Yeah."

Giotto couldn't think of any other reply, so he said, "Oh."

"But walking alone is great, you know—oh, ciao Signora Addario! Garden's looking good, huh?"

They had passed an old lady watering her garden, bent over by the years of age laden upon her. She looked up at G.'s greeting, and her lined face lit up into a smile. "Hello G., nice to see you again," she said. Then, noticing Giotto, she added, "And who's your friend?"

"My name's Giotto, signora."

Signora Addario smiled at him. "Been here long, son?"

Giotto's eyes widened in surprise. How had she known he wasn't from around these parts—

"Accent," G. muttered out of the corner of his mouth, as if reading his mind.

"Oh," said Giotto, in response to both of them. "Only a few weeks, signora."

"Enjoying it?"

"Oh—oh yeah, it's a beautiful place," Giotto said earnestly, and he believed it. The sun on his back, his friend by his side, what was there not to love?

"I'm glad you like it," the woman said. "My son didn't stay long, you know. Wanted to get out as soon as possible. But ... ah, well, I suppose you have school, and I don't want to make you late. Come by if you want a tale or two, though, won't you?"

"Oh yes, definitely," said Giotto, and with a wave of goodbye, the two of them set off again.

On their way they passed several other people who G. seemed to know, all of whom waved enthusiastically when he came over to greet them. "You're popular, aren't you?" Giotto smiled, when they moved on from the seventh person they met—a young boy taking his dog for a walk.

G. only laughed. "You're not used to small places, Giotto, so you don't get it. But round here, everyone know everyone, and that's how it is. I'm not a friendly person—" he made a face "—by any means! It's them who are friendly towards me, and—hey!" G.'s eyes suddenly lit up, and Giotto immediately knew why. They had come to the top of a great hill, lush and green, shining in the sun. The road they were following curved away into a copse of trees, leaving the hill bare for—

"I'll race you down!" G. declared, and before Giotto had even thrown off his bag, the redhead had already thrown himself sideways down the hill. Giotto followed suit, and for the next thirty seconds he saw nothing except blurs of blue and green, his body gathering speed as it rolled down the hill, the world racing around, blurry and dizzy. His heart raced with adrenaline, blood pumping, shouts of laughter bursting from his mouth. At last he felt his movement slow, felt the ground beneath him flatten out, and at last slowly came to a stop.

"Beat ya!" he heard G. yell triumphantly somewhere beside him, and Giotto could not help but flash a grin.

"Well I tried," he said, groggily getting to his feet. "But come on, we have to head to school."

After that was a long hard climb to the top of the hill again to retrieve their bags, before setting off again. "That was fun," Giotto said breathlessly, as he swung his bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah," G. said, grinning. "I've never raced anyone down there before."

Giotto's smile faltered. "Never?"

"Yeah, never. You're the first. Which makes you like my best friend or something."

Giotto laughed. "Well if it makes you feel better, you're my only friend right now."

G. snorted. "You'll have loads once we get to school. You'll see. Everyone will love you!"

"Hope you're right," Giotto sighed, "I really do."

-vongola-

He and G. were put in the same class but on different tables, and it did not take long for Giotto to acquaint himself with the other five on his table, so by the time lunch rolled around, he had five other friends already. There were three boys and two girls, all of them with such bright smiles that would have melted Giotto into a puddle, if he had been made of butter. At lunch, the girls invited him to play hopscotch with a larger group of friends, and a boy invited him for a game of soccer. The two other boys pulled out a pack of cards and asked Giotto to play Mafia with them.

The blond declined them all in the politest way possible, and made his own way outside. The beautiful weather had continued on—there was barely a wisp of cloud in the sky—and he could see kids playing soccer on the oval. The girls in his class had started setting up hopscotch, and everyone else was settling down, as far as he could see. Everyone except...

After a few seconds of confused gazing, Giotto found him, and wondered how he could miss the flaming red hair, sticking out of a large, hardcover book. G. was sitting on a bench near the corner of the playground, and Giotto wasted no time in crossing the space and sitting down next to his friend.

"Ciao, G.!"

G. looked up, surprise plastered all over his face. "Giotto, what are you doing?"

"Eating lunch with you, what—"

"You don't want to do that! Come on, go play soccer with Panfilo and the others, I know you were invited, and they're really popular."

"Eh, I'm not that great at sport."

"Alright fine, at least go join Vico's group and play Mafia. It's really fun. I was a mafioso once, and managed to kill everyone else. It was the best!"

Giotto fixed his friend with a wide-eyed look of confusion. "Why can't I sit with you, G.?"

G. put aside his book fully, and frowned. "Why would you want to?"

"Well..." Giotto frowned too. "Because you're my friend!" It was just that simple. Why did G. suddenly hate him?

G. shrugged. "Well now you have more friends. You have other people, better people. You don't have to stick around me anymore."

"But I want to!" Giotto said, stomping his foot a little childishly, but he didn't care. He wanted to sit with his only friend—No, Giotto correct himself. His best friend. G.. "Why can't I?"

"Because ... because you're a nice person, Giotto. You're a great friend, and you deserve to be with the cool kids over there. You don't wanna be seen hanging around me."

"But you are cool," Giotto protested.

G. suddenly had a very strange look on his face. "You ... really believe that?" he asked, slowly.

"Yeah! Of course!" He smiled—a smile that lit up his whole face, and suddenly his blond hair was like a beacon of light, shimmering across the ocean.

Slowly, hesitantly, G. also grinned. "Fine then, Giotto," said the boy, picking up his lunchbox. "Let's eat together."

That's all for this debut chapter :) If you could review please, it would make my day. Thanks!