Me: Hi! I'm Human Marshmallow, and this is my first ever fanfiction! Just a little disclaimer here: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. I only own my Oc.

EDITED: 7.17.16

K $h1

Chapter 1: Kissing My Old Life Good-bye

They say that we write our own stories. Our lives are a blank notebook, and it's our task to fill the pages. There are boundaries, of course – limitations. We can't really be fighting dragons or completing guild quests. Reality prevents us from doing what we can in our video games, from scenes in television shows, and from what we picture ourselves doing in our minds.

However, I know some people want their lives to be like fairy tales, but the things is, fairy tales are made up. They were written by a human – a real human – to fill children's minds with such fantasies to keep them smiling, and also perhaps to entertain them, along with entertaining the thought that maybe it would happen to them.

To some, like my younger sister, fairy tales are meant to happen – to come true. I grew up in the family reading fairy tales, and when my parents exchanged confused looks when I commented that the stories were stupid, I knew I was different. They assumed I was just smart for a kid when I turned to my dad's medical books instead. They didn't even entertain the idea that maybe I thought the stories were stupid. I openly declared that I didn't believe in them. Still, a small part of me held on to the thought that perhaps they would really come true – that a prince on a white horse would come to sweep me off of my feet and save me from some evil witch.

I eventually learned that they didn't.

"Don't say that, Lily!" my younger sister, Gabrielle, told me once with a frown on her face. "You're only saying that because you've stopped believing! You stopped believing because you're old!"

I wasn't insulted by the fact that she called me old, even if I was only four years older than her. (I was eleven and she was seven.) Maybe it was because I knew that as you grew older, you learn to accept reality and you learn to understand. All the fairy tales ever showed us and told us were the good side of fairy tales – the happy side with happily ever afters. They never showed the darker side – reality.

I learned that witches weren't real (unless you count our resident bully Mallory). There were no mermaids to guide you to the most beautiful places under the water. It was impossible to fly with a sprinkle of pixie dust and because the dust itself didn't exist.

Even then, why did I still hope?

K $h1

If we looked at things deeper, it all started with a manga. My best friend, Sebastian, had been forcing me to read a manga called Katekyo Hitman Reborn. I wasn't interested in it at first – I was too obsessed with Bleach to have time to squeeze another fandom into my life. I only really agreed once he promised to give Bleach a try.

I had read the first chapter and found myself hooked to it. The humor was attracting and the character development really got me hooked. Seeing Sawada Tsunayoshi transform from a wimp into this confident person was heartwarming. After I had finished the whole manga in a week, I found myself with unanswered questions (Does Tsuna end up with Haru? I want him to end up with Haru. What happens next now that they've changed the future? Are there going to be more enemies?...) and wanting a continuation of it.

Sebastian found Bleach interesting, as well. I was really ecstatic about that, seeing as I finally wouldn't be the only one in class who was obsessed with it. He then went on to tell me about a website where I could read fanfictions, stories created by other people about other stories. I checked it out and found myself wanting to just read each and every one that got me interested.

It was a nice thing to have Sebastian around. I was lucky to have found him. The people in my class weren't interested in anime. They also found fanfictions stories made by others because of their 'freakish and unhealthy obsessions on them'. They found what we did stupid, but to me and Sebastian, we believed that fanfictions were written because people wanted those stories to live on, but in the way they wanted.

Now, when I say that they want stories to continue living, I meant that they created their own ideas of it, their own spins to it, to let people read things about their fandom that could have happened.

Nobody ever told me that there were other ways to make the stories live on.

K $h1

It was raining. People in black stood there, all under umbrellas as the rain poured hardly on them and on the pavement below them. They gazed at the black box being lowered into the soiled ground, some looking sorry, others indifferent, my parents in grief. Sebastian placed a comforting hand on my shoulder as I looked at the ground, not wanting to see her.

My last conversation with her was an argument, and it made my stomach churn whenever I remembered it.

"Gab, fairy tales aren't real. If I were you, I'd stop believing them as soon as possible." I sighed as I continued reading my textbook, determined to pass tomorrow's quiz. I didn't spare her a glance.

"They are! They are!" she insisted loudly, making my eye twitch as I had to reread the passage again.

Glancing irritably at her, I saw that she was mad at me. Her face was pink and her eyes teary. She seemed as if she was about to cry or have a tantrum. Either way, I didn't feel guilty about what I was doing. She needed to hear this and accept it.

"You're too young to understand," I told her, not stopping to think about the fact that being called 'too young' irked her. "Sure, maybe they are real, but they don't last. There won't always be a happily ever after for you."

"Yes, they will!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms and puffing up her cheeks. "Happily ever afters always happen!"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Like I said, you're too young to understand. You can't accept it yet, but one day, you will, and you'll look back at this day and laugh because you know I'm –"

"No!" she hissed and the tears began to fall. I started to feel bad but I steeled my resolve to let her know that she was believing in something that won't ever come true. "It's because you've stopped believing!"

I sighed and didn't respond. Silence reigned over the room and I didn't even look as she stomped out of the room, shoulders shaking.

I tried to smirk as her coffin was buried under the ground, but all that came out was a shaky smile. "Do you see now, Gab? Fairy tales don't last. Why do you think this happened?"

Gab had died. It was cancer. She was only seven.

K $h1

That night, I lay on my bed, eyes closed. There were scattered photographs and photo albums on the floor below my bed – pictures of Gab. Each picture made me wince. Why had I been so mean? Why did I let my annoyance to our parents – my slight jealousy – get in the way? I could've been a good sister. I could've been the one she turned to for help with homework, the one she went to to talk about this cute guy she had seen, the one who would be her support.

I clenched my fists. I was immature. I was older. I should've known better. I really should've.

That was when my eyes widened as I felt something crushing me from both sides. I could only see darkness and panicked voices and – wherewasIwhat'shappening

The light blinded my eyes, making me wince more and let out a small shriek. It hurt, it hurt, ithurtithurtithurt

"Shh…"

I was being held by someone, and that someone was trying to comfort me in vain. How could I calm down? How could I give in to her when I didn't evenknowwhatthehellwashappeningtome

I had seen a flash of dark purple hair before I shut my eyes, growing tired, and falling asleep.

K $h1

"What will you name her?"

"Chrome. She'll be my darling little Chrome."

K $h1

I woke up and found myself in a dark area. I didn't seem to be stepping on anything but I remained planted to the ground. In front of me was a man sitting on a chair. He seemed familiar to me, but I just couldn't seem to remember where and when I had seen him.

It then occurred to me that I wasn't panicking anymore. Perhaps it was a dream and I was about to wake up to another dull morning without Gab trying to wake me up to play with her.

I frowned. I didn't really feel like waking up.

"Then don't."

I yelped, surprised that the man on the chair had spoken to me. "Who the heck are you?"

"People call me many things, but I prefer Checkerface," he said, eliciting a laugh from me.

"What kind of a name is that?" I snorted. "If you don't mind, my little dream figment thing, I'd like to get back to reality." (I didn't want to go back. Keep me here.)

A smirk on his face grew. "I'm afraid I can't just do that, Lily."

I rose an eyebrow. "So you know my name. Yipee. Good for you. Can I go now?"

"Nope," he said, making the 'p' pop. "You're needed here, but all will be known in due time. I'll be going now, Lily, or should I say, Chrome?"

"What the hell are you smoking? Don't call me by something else." This guy was weird.

He just rolled his eyes at me and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

I shrugged, feeling the familiar pull of reality bringing me back.

I opened my eyes and saw the same dark purple hair. It belonged to a woman who smiled at me affectionately. "Hi, Chrome. I'm your mama."

My eyes widened.

Chrome. Checkerface. Needed. Here. Lily.

I WAS IN KATEKYO HITMAN REBORN?!

I started hyperventilating.

K $h1

Me: So, there. I edited this first chapter, and I'll be editing the following chapters before posting any new ones. Sorry for the inconvenience!

Also, to answer some questions you may form…

Why is Lily immature? She's eleven. Even I was immature back then, and slightly jealous of my cousin when he came along and took most of the attention away from me. In Lily's case, she's easily annoyed with Gab because they're not on the same intellectual level, and because Lily believes that her ideas are right. She can't really stop or control her annoyance.

What does Lily mean by hoping for fairy tales? As an eleven year old, there's some part of her that's mature enough to know that fairy tales really aren't true. They're fiction. She's realized this, but finds herself wanting the happily ever afters the heroines had, even though she refuses to admit it.

Why didn't she cry during the funeral? I based her reactions off of mine for some of the story. Basing it off of me, Lily didn't cry, although she felt bad about it deep down. As an eleven year old, I, and Lily, have accepted that death was a part of life no matter what. Plus, they weren't close. I didn't really cry when someone I knew died because I wasn't close to the person…

See you next time!