A/N: This fic is being rewritten. For more information please take a gander at the last chapter.

Prologue

Six streets east of Namimori Middle, four blocks down. The rather unexceptional house on the right sat deceivingly humble. For the family it housed was something just a tad above exceptional.

If one were to open the gate, cross the carefully nurtured lawn and pass through worn doorway, they would find a family of four gathered around the table over a lovingly home-cooked meal. The father, the mother, the eldest, and the youngest. Four was usually the number for a family. Like with most dinners, the conversation inevitably steered towards the subject of eachother's days.

The father went first.

"Well it was a good day, I caught up with a few old friends around the neighbourhood! Work called in as well, they said business was getting rowdy without me to traffic the construction sites!"

He finished with a laugh and a goofy grin like he always did.

The mother went next.

"That's nice dear, I can't say it was a very eventful day for me. There was a sale at the mall so I had a look... Oh! And a salesperson turned up at the door selling the strangest things. But nothing much other than that."

She smiled brightly and received smiles in return.

The eldest shrugged, cracking a joke about how insomnia was making school more insufferable than usual.

"We learned some more English today, I can introduce myself now. I went to the park for a bit after school."

She swung her legs under the table, grinning slightly.

The youngest blinked when he realised it was his turn.

"Daycare was okay. A bit scary. B-but it was only the first day!"

He gave a timid smile at their warm looks.

An ordinary enough conversation. Yet out of all four, none of them told the whole truth.

The father hid that catching up with old friends meant bodily threatening Vongola's messengers away, as their very presence put his family at risk of being murdered by enemy famiglia. He didn't say that the phone call was the Ninth himself, subtly urging him to return because he couldn't be long from his duties to the mafia.

The mother chose not reveal how she found what looked to be a gun holster among her husband's belongings. She didn't comment on how there seemed to be the smell of smoke lingering on her eldest or how her youngest's clothing seemed to have new holes and abrasions every day.

The eldest neglected to mention that her insomnia was making it hard for her to concentrate in school, often resulting in being scolded by the teacher. Nor did she mention that she would often bump into a tattooed man at the park, always under the same tree smoking a cigarette. The man would often come over and speak to her, and she would notice the faint metallic tang that would linger around him.

The youngest didn't bother elaborating on how his clumsiness at the daycare often led to the other children laughing at him and even tripping him on purpose. He had come home with bruises and scrapes that he dared not show.

Family time was precious, their little safe-haven away from troubles.

Six streets east of Nami Middle, four blocks down. The Sawada residence was home to four people that valued family above all. Not one led an ordinary life in the least.