Trespiano was a quiet town. Nothing happened except for occasional hoodlum prank, which would be fixed quickly and vanish. The previous day was similar to the day following, and if something did happen, it would be small and barely felt by the citizens trapped in the status quo, which was precisely how everyone liked it. They wanted nothing to do with Mafia, or any of the crazy happenings in the rest of Italy. However, soon something was going to happen, and even if the inhabitants of this dusty town didn't feel the effects, those involved would veer off the average life forever.
However, there's no going back now that the wheel of fate turns ever steadily.

Jakki Dafne was one of those involved -even if she didn't know it right now. Right now she was staring out her window, watching the sunrise as the first day of summer began. Her room was cluttered with various pieces of her gear. The only thing that wasn't on the floor was a bat carefully exposed to the sun and hidden within the depths of her bag. The sun glinted off the dented metal, and Jak stood to start the day. She dressed, and slid her bag over her shoulder. As she headed downstairs, the Dafne home was unusually dark, even if it was summer. Jak snagged her keys from the kitchen counter and silently vowed to be back before lunch.
With that, she was out the door, walking to her favorite place. The batting cages. She'd been practicing there since she was little. She was halfway there when she realized that they would be closed today because of the festival. The school year went by so fast… she thought, walking towards the noise and music. Maybe she'd have a go at the carnival games that came to the town only once a year. She hummed to herself some little tune that was stuck in her head. Today would be a good day.

"Italy is at peace! What a wonderful country~!"

Despite having only arrived the day before, Daisuke Honda was already loving his new home; it was evident in his voice as he shouted skyward. His body sprawled against the surface of his balcony, arms and legs outstretched while staring up at the morning sun. He breathed in the fresh, flowery scent of the small town as he yawned, a miniature stray cat curiously hopping on to his chest and circling after its tail a few times before sitting down.

After several moments of watching the clouds drift with the wind, Daisuke gently placed his palm beneath the stray cat and set it aside, sitting upright and petting the animal affectionately before the balcony doors behind him creaked open. "Ah, Daisuke," a bubbly, middle-aged woman greeted with a smile, the boy returning the gesture with his own. He patted down his clothing as he rose to his feet, standing a few inches shorter than the woman. "You're up a little early, aren't you?"

"Yes, Miss Ottavio," Daisuke responded, crouching as he continued to pet the stray cat, looking up at her. "I found him in my room when we moved in yesterday, can we keep him?" he urged, almost pleading. She sighed, placing both hands on her hips and nodding almost involuntarily. The Japanese boy jumped to his feet again and leaped forward towards Miss Ottavio, attempting to hug her. "Yay! You're the be-"

Miss Ottavio recoiled at Daisuke's sudden grapple, reacting almost instantaneously. Before he was able to reach her, she gripped the center of Daisuke's shirt and with surprising brute strength, lifted the boy over her head as he screamed "Gupyaa!" and slammed his body to the ground backfirst. Not much sooner after, she realized what she had done, her hands covering her mouth as she crouched beside Daisuke and checked on him. "Oh my god, are you okay? I didn't mean to do that!"

Daisuke groaned for a moment, rubbing the back of his head but nonetheless returning to reality. He nearly fell over as he clumsily got back up, using the frame of the balcony doors as a support. "Tha- that was cool!" he cheered, the cheery disposition returning in a heartbeat. Miss Ottavio looked extremely confused, having expected the boy to be mad at her. "You're a good wrestler, Miss Ottavio! We should do that again!"

"I'm not sure about that, Daisuke." She shook her head, sighing. "Anyway, there's going to be a festival today. You should head out and meet some new peo-"

"Friends!" Daisuke shouted enthusiastically, wheeling around and bolting out of the room. He stormed down the stairs and, putting on his sneakers, pranced through Trespiano without a clue as to where he was actually going.

Finally, the summer, Joli grumbled, having been unfairly awakened by the familiar sound of ripped air and mutilated leather. His mother was practicing, as she always did at sunrise and, though finally afforded the ability to sleep-in, there was little chance he'd be able to comfortably remain in bed. Thus, he decided it best to simply get up, and perhaps enjoy his first full day of freedom.

Sliding the burgundy comforter neatly away, as to make it easier to compose it later, Joli whipped his legs around and over the side of the bed. Taking a moment to swing his feet, considering they still weren't long enough to reach the floor, he sighed and hopped safely on to them. Taking a short look around the room, if for no other reason to shake off the morning stupor, he noticed that he had left his lavender scented candle burning all night. Completely avoiding thoughts of the possible fire hazard, he felt a certain frustration at the small piece of metal and smoldering wick that remained, fitted sadly with the barely lingering smell of fresh that he loved so.

Walking toward his closet, he took out his normal wear, on this day a grey t-shirt and black shorts, and laid them on his bed. Swiveling to the window, he opened it just in time to catch a brisk wind --a reminder that spring had come but had not fully left yet-- so he decided to wear a thin sweater instead. Replacing the t-shirt and pulling out a blue sweater, he laid it exactly as he had the shirt, and walked to the bathroom. Conveniently, the bathroom was accessible from a door in his room, and he always kept the entrance from the hallway locked. It was one of the perks of being an only child.

Quickly attending to the actions of a normal morning routine, he returned to his room to get dressed. As he slid over his sweater, he listened intently for the sounds of his mother's practice, and was rewarded by the continuing drum of annihilation he had grown to love...and hate. True to custom, he picked out his shoes last, a black pair of flat-foot, low-lip boots, and was finally prepared to head to the kitchen for breakfast. Plus, as it suddenly struck him, today was the Summer Festival in Trespiano. Which meant of course that his parents would be drunk by noon.

As he reached to open the door, grinning at the thought of his parents inebriation, he thought to himself, actually, it'd probably be better to slip out unnoticed. As a result, he headed back to the opened window, slipped onto the sill, and shimmied down the pipe to the street.

"That's one way to start the day," he remarked, smirking, as he began his walk through Vendrello, on his way to the festival in Little Town.

He had always loved the sun and warmth.

It was for that reason that Cyril always woke up with a bigger smile on his face, one that he did not show anyone else other than his aunt. The smell of the ocean, mingled with the scent of fresh, blooming flowers, wafted in through his open window and enticed him to get out of bed. The boy yawned widely as he sat up, running a hand through his long, ebony hair. The warm summer breeze tousled it with invisible fingers and brushed against the fabric of his curtains. With a sigh, he pushed himself off of the bed and prepared himself for the day. After that, he made his way down the wooden stairs to the first floor, where another smell caught his attention. This wasn’t the smell of flowers, or the ocean… but food.

Cyril walked into the kitchen, drowsily looking around it with a mellow expression on his face. Their little house was a modest thing, and the smallest space in the living establishment was the kitchen. It was so small that he usually had to squeeze past her to get to the refrigerator. Cyril liked it. He wasn’t a fan of huge living spaces anyway. That, and he could easily see what his aunt was cooking without getting caught. A quick glance over her shoulder as he brushed past her was enough to tell that she was cooking omelets. His stomach grumbled slightly, and, chuckling a bit, made his way to the fridge as he did every morning.

“Good morning, Cyril.” his aunt chirped, lifting her hazel-green eyes from the simmering pan and glancing over at him. She was a young woman of about twenty seven, with short, feathery black hair. “I see that you’re in a good mood.”

Another harsh chuckle escaped his lips. ”You know how your cooking always makes me happy.” he told her as he poured some orange juice for himself. ”And I like it when it’s warm. It’s a good start so far.”

“Ah~” she sang, raising her spatula and blinking over at him. “If you like my food and the warmth, then you should go out a sec and pick up some eggs. I just realized these are expired.” she looked toward the carton of eggs near the stove, a frown on her lips. “I’m so careless.”

Cyril nodded and straightened out his clothing, the small smile he had on his face fading. ”Don’t worry, auntie. I’ll get them for you.” he downed the rest of the juice before brushing past her again, making his way to the door. ”I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Don’t wander off, Cyril. The vegetables will burn if you take too long.”

”Okay.” Cyril answered as he left the house. The sun wasn’t very harsh as it shone down its golden rays on the streets, but he was sure that as the days passed, it wouldn’t be as merciful. He walked down the street that led to the town square. He usually didn’t like being there because Trespiano was so small that everyone knew everyone. Maybe there were a few exceptions, but… he just didn’t want to see any classmates. This was summertime—he didn’t want to be reminded of the annoying days of school. Heaving a sigh, he walked to a small grocery store that was run by an old friend.

He was in and out in three minutes, explaining to the old man behind the counter that he really couldn’t stay and chat because his aunt needed the eggs right away. After he paid him, he walked out of the store with the eggs. I have to hurry back home. he thought as he looked down at the plastic bag that hung from his hand. Or else, auntie’s omelet will be ruin-

Cyril grunted as he collided with another form, making him stagger backwards and dropping the bag. He growled under his breath when his eyes rested on the mess that was made. The eggs pooled under the bag, crawling over the old, cobblestone floor. ”Seriously?” his voice was as rough as his laugh, and he glared up at the boy that bumped into him. ”You’re paying for this.”

---

“Ah, it’s a good day, isn’t it, Fionn?”

Fionn winced lightly as a rough hand came down on his blond head of hair, ruffling his golden locks to and fro. Even if the action had bothered him at first, the Welsh boy soon grew fond of it. It was something that his brother usually did, no matter how annoying. It showed that he was cared for, that he was loved, and that he wasn’t ignored. Fionn grinned up at the tall man as they walked down the street. His brother, Reiner, was a good man. Even if Fionn didn’t think he looked much like one of his kin, he was sure that he was blood. While Fionn had blond hair, Reiner had a dark, earthy brown. While Fionn had bright, amber eyes, Reiner had the darkest blue that he ever saw. It doesn’t matter. ”It’s really warm today. I’m already sweating.”

Reiner laughed. “You’ll get used to it. It’s much better than the eternally cloudy skies of Wales.” he rolled his eyes as he groaned. “Honestly, I don’t think that the sun ever peeked out from behind those gloomy clouds!”

Fionn smiled as they continued to walk. ”It wasn’t always cloudy, Reiner. I honestly think that you came to Trespiano so you can follow that pretty Italian girl-“

It was obvious that Reiner was flustered. Playfully putting his little brother in a headlock, he brought him against his body and hissed down at him. “That pretty Italian girl is my wife, now.” he told him as the boy writhed in his grip. “And I just wanted to get away from the bleak weather, that’s all.”

After Reiner let him go, Fionn regained his composure. He never joked around or laughed with anyone that wasn’t family. At least he had the guts to do so with Reiner. The two walked in silence for a little bit more, making their way to the town square. Reiner had to pick up something for his wife, and Fionn decided to accompany him. It was a rather pretty day, Fionn admitted, even if it was a bit too sunny for his taste.

“Oh crap,” Reiner paused, grinding his teeth as he paused. Fionn glanced over at him. “I forgot my wallet at home. Wait here.”

Fionn smiled a bit as his brother ran down the street, shaking his head. Oh Reiner. You’re always so forgetful. he thought, walking over to the shade that was cast by a larger building. You almost even forgot your own wedding.

The curtains fluttered with the breeze from the open window. The radiant sun shone through this fresh morning onto an empty bed. The pink haired owner was already up packing his soccer bag. "Mm? Wait..." Naoto stopped and looked at the calendar on the wall. With grin he realized he didn't have practice this morning but what really had him smiling was the fact that there was no school either. It was summer vacation. "Yosh, mira~ Hehe~" Naoto tossed aside the bag and rushed to the window. In the distance he could see the festival being set up. With a new wave of energy he hurried down stairs in time to get a whiff of his mother's special breakfast. Miku Alato was the center the house, making it warm and welcoming with just her presence. Her hair was a silverish pink and it framed her beautiful face perfectly. She always made Naoto's favorites on days like this. She was humming a song Naoto would recognize anywhere, the lullaby she would sing to him when he was little. Naoto smiled and then a breeze drifted the delicious scent to him. Aw man, so good... He couldn't take it anymore. He had to have a bite. Unfortunately, his mother didn't let anyone eat until she was finished with every dish. So far he hadn't made himself known, so Naoto decided to ninja a taste. Wrapping his scarf around his head, the young warrior of the shadows tiptoed over to the plate of omelets that sat on the counter out of his mother's visual range. The target was seconds from being secured. Suddenly, Naoto's arm was pinned to the refrigerator by his wristband and a kitchen knife. The young ninja's eyes widened as he broke out into cold sweat. "Nao-kun~ Nice try but I wouldn't recommend you try it again." She said to her son with a loving yet terrifying smile. How did she know...!? He thought nervously.

Naoto sat down to breakfast with his mother after she finished cooking. Being originally from Japan and having picked up Italian cuisine very quickly, she made an even split of dishes. As they ate Naoto was haunted by the sight of the knife she had pinned him with sitting on the table. His mother chuckled. "Sorry, did I scare you Nao-kun?" Naoto gave a sigh of relief. Somehow she managed to calm him with the question. "How do you get me and dad with stuff like that? I wouldn't be able to make a shot like that if I was Robin Hood." She chuckled again. "Mother's instinct I guess~" Naoto gave his mother a skeptical look if ever there was one. She seriously doesn't think I'm buying that does she? Taking another bite a thought popped into his head. "Speaking of dad, where is he?" She smiled wryly and pointed out the window with her fork while resting her cheek on her hand. "You know him; he loves to lend a helping hand. He left this morning to help set up the festival. You're going, right?" Naoto just nodded since his face was stuffed full. "Good, you deserve it. I'm so proud of you for making it through school this year." Naoto swallowed hard and scratched his cheek awkwardly. Don't be too proud. I barely scraped by. I was almost suspended from the team seven times... Naoto proceeded to shovel down the rest of his plate. His mother took a sip of tea. "Well, the festival will be starting soon. You should get going...and don't out the window like you usually do. And don't take that as a challenge..." She sighed as her son was already in the act, halfway out the kitchen window. "Thanksforbreakfastseeyou laterloveyou!" He called back as he started running down the street towards the festival. This summer's gonna be something special...I can feel it!

Any normal American would have been ecstatic to wake up to the bright, beautiful Italian morning waiting just beyond the heavy curtains. Abby wasn't like most Americans. First and foremost, she was in Italy against her will. Sent halfway around the world by her angry parents, Abby was away from all she's ever known and loved. It wouldn't have been so bad if they had let her keep her phone. But no, they wanted to teach her about consequences and responsibilities. She would be living here until they deemed her worthy of coming back to New York. Abby wasn't even sure that was legal but with the connections her parents had, there was no way anyone could stop them. So instead, Abby continued her silent retaliation and snuggled deeper into her blanket, her back facing the rising Italian sun.

Just when the blonde had begun to lull back into slumber, a loud clanging right next to her ear caused her to screech and fall off her bed. Her face met the hardwood floor with a delightful slam, sending sleep right out the window and replacing it with a fresh load of pain. Abby groaned, rubbing the side of her face as she glanced over the bed to see a gruff-looking old man with a bushy white mustache holding a frying pan in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other.

"What the hell grampa?!" Abby shouted, unable to contain her anger. The man's emotionless look didn't waver and he simply raised an eyebrow.

"What was that? I can't understand your gross American speak."

"I know you can understand me!" Her grandfather tilted his head to the side in faux confusion, making Abby sigh in exasperation. He was the second reason why she had not enjoyed coming to Italy. Back when she was in Manhattan, Abby had thought of some positive points to her parents' crazy punishment. For one thing, she was going to Italy, one of the most beautiful places on Earth. And she was going to live with her grandfather of all people. She never met any of her grandparents and from what she learned from teen dramas was that grandfathers cherished their grandchildren. So in Abby's head, her grandfather was a kind, sweet old man who would allow her to do anything she wanted in the mansion he was bound to live in somewhere in Rome or Sicily or Milan. To her horror, the man she met when she stepped out of the plane was the complete opposite. Lorenzo Russo, the father of Abby's mother, was a tough, stern man with large muscles no 60-something year old should still have. And instead of a mansion in a bustling Italian city, Lorenzo chose to stay in a shabby, two-story farmhouse in some tiny Italian town Abby didn't bother to learn the name of. From what she could pry out of her grandfather was that it was Abby's father who came from wealth and fell in love with a farmer's daughter when she moved to the Big Apple. Any other day, Abby would have loved to hear more of her parents' romantic meeting but for now, she didn't even want to think of the evil traitors who sent her here.

"What do you want grampa?" She finally asked in fluent Italian. A hint of a triumphant smirk pulled at the edges of her grandfather's lips as he placed the frying pan down on her bed to pull something out from his back pocket.

"I need you to go down to the store and buy the stuff on this list. We're running low on pretty much everything." He stated.

"Sorry, no can do."

"Excuse me?" Abby simply gave him a shrug.

"I have to do some yoga before it gets too hot. My usual session takes an hour so it would be nice if you had breakfast ready by then. Afterwards, I need to watch my soaps."

"Oh no you don't," Lorenzo announced, "you've locked yourself in this house for three days straight. It's time you got out of here and did something productive."

"Technically, I'm under house arrest."

"Don't care. You're going grocery shopping."

"And what if I refuse?" Abby stared up defiantly at her grandfather. She had long since thrown away the crying act. It did not work on him at all, seeing as the man did not have a soul. Lorenzo simply glared at her before walking around her bed and scooping the tiny girl up. Abby shrieked and slapped her grandfather's chest, but he didn't seem to be fazed by her weak hits as he carried her out of her room, down the staircase and out the front door. He then dropped her onto the grassy yard, turned around and went back inside the house. Abby didn't even process what in the world just happened until the sound of the front door locking brought her back to reality.

"OLD MAN!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" She screeched as she pounded her fist against the door. No response. Abby took a few steps back, readying her shoulder for the impact she was going to make. It worked in the movies so it should work here, right? The door looked old and rusty so it should just pop right out it's hinges. Yet before she could even make a rush for the door, it opened again to reveal her annoyed grandfather who was now carrying some of her clothes and a pair of sneakers. He threw them at Abby and she quickly caught the shorts, T-shirt, bra and one of her sneakers.

"You're not allowed back in this house until you do as I asked." Lorenzo announced, "The list is in your back pocket."

"And where do you suggest I take a shower and change?" Abby asked angrily.

"You showered for an hour last night. I'm sure you're still squeaky clean. And you can change in the tool shed out back. You'll be staying there tonight if you don't get the groceries. Oh, here." He tossed her a tiny purse which Abby luckily caught. She turned back to the door to yell some more, but it slammed right in her face and was locked once more. The blonde let out a huff, picked up the rest of her fallen stuff and trudged over to the backyard. There was no point in trying to get in, especially in her tank top and short-shorts.

It took twenty minutes for Abby to change, only because half the time she was trying to avoid not getting bugs or dirt anywhere on her as she changed from her pajamas to her black shorts and yellow T-shirt. The blonde was now walking along one of the streets of Trespiano, looking down at the long list she had dug up from her own back pocket. Her grandfather's writing was horrible, just like everything else about him. And he didn't even provide the poor girl a map. This was going to be such a pain.

Just down the street, Abby caught sight of a tall, dark-haired girl. She seemed friendly and was the only person she saw on these streets, so Abby decided that she was the best person to ask directions from. "Um, excuse me!" She called out as she jogged over to her, "Could you help me out with something? I'm trying to find the market, or grocery store. Or whatever, I just need to get the stuff on this list."

Jakki had been humming a lullaby from her father when she heard yelling from behind her. Jak turned to see a girl she'd never seen before asking for directions. She must be new around here. she thought. The thought itself made her laugh a little, the most exciting thing to ever happen around here was a girl moved here and was asking for directions.

"The market? Well, I think they might be closed today, because we're having a start of summer festival, but I think I can take you there. I was going to practice today, but the batting cages are closed." Jak smiled, might as well show the new girl around as well as find something to do before the festival. "I wouldn't mind if you just want to head straight there, but Trespiano is kind of tricky to navigate this time of year because of the festival."

Jakki tried to pin down the other girl's accent. American? Maybe, but Jak had only seen Americans on television so it was a rough guess at best. "You're from America, right? I'm sorry, but I've never met an American before." she laughed a little. Hopefully the girl wouldn't be bothered by her interest. Americans were interesting to her because of baseball, how enthusiastic they were about it. America's national pastime and whatnot. She hoped to play there professionally someday, so she tried to learn about it as much possible. America just seemed so exciting in comparison to everything here. Not to mention… she could run away from the graveyard just outside of town that kept reminding her to visit and mother.

If there were ever to be a time that someone would ask her about Italy, the young mix-blood wouldn't know how know to respond.

The reason being Italy wasn't a country you simply could describe in words, not because it was so majestic or awe-striking, but because it was so distinct in its essence and style to her eyes that if the person who asked was not Saki herself, he or she would have a very biased skew of what she was talking about. People tend to not understand that communication was rather pointless for that very reason. For example:

Faceless Japanese Local School Girl: "Sa-sa-ki-chan!!! How was your day!"

S.I.N: "It was light and pleasant despite my heavy breakfast. I'll have you know Italian cheese cake is the best way to start a day, it's rough on the tongue but it does have exceptionally delightful aftertaste. If anything I would say that cheesecake itself is what made my day so great!"

Same Faceless Japanese Local School Girl: "Uuuuuwah~! I wish I could have some Italian cheese cake, it sounds so exotic!"

Stop.

While Saki had described how absolutely wonderful the cake had been, the Japanese local still has no idea what the cake tastes like, yet she couldn't help but drool at the sound of it. The school girl had simply interpreted Saki's happiness and tastes to be similar, if not equivalent, to her own, thus bringing to light our dilemma. The girl simply and automatically made the assumption the cake was good, that it would make her day as light and pleasant as Saki's.

But Saki's happiness was not the faceless school girl's happiness, or anyone else's happiness for that matter.

So why communicate at all then?

A soft clink brought the foreigner back to this foreign land, one to which she had the luxury of exploring once over already.

The large, but surprisingly humble town of Trespiano was a place that took on a cool indifference to the political turmoil of the world. Sure, the place probably had a few loose pegs in its foundation and skeleton buried away here and there, but at least those details didn't forcefully grab your attention. It was a place where the ignorant and the casual adventurers remained out of harms way, a place where curiosity and keen sense of detail could leave one collecting maggots in the gutter.

It was the sort of place that Saki was generally really fond of, so explains her unprecedented return.

Her eyes met the expensive white china with interest, exploring the contents that found itself on the well kept wooden table.

"Your espresso." a voice chimed over her shoulder.

Looking up she found the young Italian waiter smiling.

Acknowledging the service Saki silently reached into her pocket before pulling out a few crumbled bills and placing it into his coat pocket.

"Thank you."

Their voices rang in unison causing surprise to catch him for a brief second. Then it was back to the usual loving smile, one that was perhaps slightly more lovely than the last.

Lifting the cup and its place she stared at the dark liquid with curiosity.

What had she been thinking about again?

A few seconds passed as the girl tried to regain her train of thought. After a few minutes passed she gave up, her eyes once again wandering around the buzzing market place with an intense interest.

Maybe it was the physical intensity of her thoughts that manifested themselves physically that always pressed her to scowl...

Casting the notion aside, she let out a small sigh before taking a sip from the cup.

She cared too much about her thoughts to acknowledge such a theory.

"Across the fields of pineapple, I-"

Daisuke's happy singing was abruptly cut short. His slim frame met another as the sound of cracking eggs ensued, falling back onto his buttocks. It was then that the boy realized, he had gathered his clothing together back at home, but forgot to actually wear them out. He was still in his aquarium pajamas as he stared at the pellets of dripping yolk from the bag that belonged to the boy he had run into. His eyes ran up and looked at the boy's facial expression, causing him to recoil in fear from the menacing glare. "I-I'm sorry!" he shouted, raising up both hands and shaking them in a gesture of denial.

"IHere, I tell you what, I go get you a new thing of eggs," Daisuke offered, rising back to his feet and standing back up to his feet. "And you be my friend! Haha!"

Cyril quickly glanced over the boy that bumped into him. As he stood up from his rear end, he dully noted that the stranger was a tiny bit taller than him. He had brown hair and bright, blue eyes that seemed to have a friendly light to them. However, he returned his look with his dull brown ones that were literally ebbing with annoyance. His clothing… he wasn’t wearing a proper shirt or pants to actually be in public. Instead, he was in his pajamas. And… he was saying something about buying him a new egg carton if he became his friend. His brow furrowed, and the beginnings of a scowl was crossing his lips. ”How about you buy me the eggs and I don’t cave your face in?”

He heaved a sigh as he crossed his arms. This guy is new here. I should be patient with him. But if he does this to me again… His aunt always told him to keep his temper in check, which he did rather well. She told him that all he had to do was find an outlet for his fury, and he did. The outlet? Fighting. Even though he was usually destroyed in close combat, at least he got his point across. ”I need those eggs for breakfast. If not, it’s ruined.”

With a deep breath Naoto took in the fresh air. As he walked through the town he was greeted by many of the other residents. Growing up here and being the town's soccer star just about everyone knew Naoto. A few of the older men playing chess called out to him. "Naoto, you're gonna win us the championship next year, right?" Naoto waved then rubbed the back of his head shyly. "I'll try but that's the captain's job really." The old men chuckled. "Well we hear that's gonna be you next season, hehe." Naoto frowned. "Don't say that kind of stuff...your gonna make me lose my lunch..." The elders had a good laugh as Naoto continued on. "That boy could do great things if he could get over his fear of being in charge." One of the other men added. "And if he keep his head in a book for more than two minutes before using it as a pillow." They laughed.

While heading towards the festival a ball rolled over and stopped at Naoto's feet. He looked at the ball and then at the field to his left. "Naoto~! Over here!" Naoto smiled at the young boy wearing a puffy hat. With the least bit of effort popped the ball up, bouncing it higher on his knee and kicking it straight to the boy. The kid rushed forward and bumped the ball with his chest letting it fall at his feet. "Nice stop Tommy. You're getting good." Naoto complimented. Tommy smiled happily. "Hehehe~ Thanks. Just you watch, I'm gonna be better than you one day." Naoto blinked before a moment before snatching Tommy's hat and holding it out of his reach. While he struggled to get it back Naoto put his hand on Tommy's head making him stop and look up at Naoto's big grin. "Sounds like a challenge~ When you're good enough we'll go head to head!" He said as he ruffled Tommy's short brown hair. Tommy is like a little brother to Naoto. Naoto looked out for him and Tommy looked up to Naoto. "Keep practicing. I'll see you at the festival." Tommy nodded and Naoto tossed him his hat as he took off.

Naoto had sped up to a sprint now. He held his stomach as it made some troubling sounds. [b]Geez I've gotta learn to control myself...I definitely ate too much at breakfast! Why does mom have to be such a good cook...? Gottafindabathroom gottafindabathroom! Unfortunately for him most of the shops on this street were closed for the festival. As he rounded the corner on his quest for relief he ran pass two girls. A tall one and a blonde one who, with just the quick glance he got, Naoto could tell wasn't from Italy let alone from Trespiano. Not to mention, she didn't seem to be having the best day. Neither did the guy with yolk on him further down the street. Naoto saw him with another who seemed very...upbeat. Naoto didn't give the two much thought and hurried pass them, bumping the manner looking one's shoulder in his rush. "Ah! S-sorry!" He called back. Finally he found a cafe that was open. Sanctuary~ As he dated inside her noticed a particular girl. She seemed aloof. Not in a bad way but he could feel that are was a unique kind of person. A few moments later the pink haired boy excited the bathroom with a sigh of relief.As if he didn't just survive an emergency, Naoto walked to the counter and ordered a small bag of muffins. Walking out the cafe he took a bite of a blueberry muffin. "Man, that's good. Mira~" Suddenly, Naoto had the sensation he was being watched. He looked up at a nearby roof instinctively but didn't see anything. [b]"Weird...then again who would be up there watching me?" Naoto walked off heading for his original destination. Meanwhile, a red haired figure stepped out from behind a chimney, their eyes following the pink haired kid.

In a general way, Joli had always liked Trespiano. It wasn't as large as Vendrello but frankly, it felt more like a community. Of course, he hated the walk. Still, it was a gorgeous morning and the mild breeze from earlier had slowly turned to a warmer one. It was nice.

Finally breaking the city limits, before even seeing the bridge necessary to cross the river, Joli could hear the hustle of those setting up the festival, and those, who like him, were ready to enjoy a long day. Or so he assumed, which was, he decided, one of his major flaws; always reading other people's emotions, despite never asking, and giving into his introverted egoism. To his credit though, he was rarely wrong.

Walking gingerly over the bridge, taking time to enjoy the quietly flowing water and deliberately rising sun, Joli nearly stopped to smell the roses, and would have if not for an unsettling feeling. For quite some time now, roughly halfway between his home and here, he felt as though someone had been watching him. He had grown aware in the last few years, as a result of training with his mother and dealing with insignificant enemies, of the feeling that emanated from those in observation. In fact, it was another one of his flaws, as one who also watches others from a distance.

But, regardless, he was well prepared to deal with anything that might come, and honestly, he could just be imagining things. Making his way into Trespiano, through the north end of the market place, he noticed a coffee shop on the corner that seemed open. Stomach grumbling and the haze of morning still misting his vision, he decided now was the perfect time for coffee and a bagel. Sauntering up to the door and pushing it open, Joli was instantly rewarded with the delightful smell of breakfast. He could hardly wait!

"But today's the day of the festival!" Daisuke laughed somewhat nervously, a look of surprise forming on his face as another kid brushed past Cyril and apologized for grazing his shoulder. He waved towards the retreating kid, shouting out "Hi!" as their figure grew smaller in the distance until it disappeared. He sighed, staring down at his pajamas and blushing in embarrassment, wearing a toothy grin at the boy with the egg issue. He sat and thought for a moment before he raised a finger as he lit up, almost as if a light bulb had popped up atop of his head.

"Oooohhh, I know," Daisuke said, patting Cyril's shoulder and pointing to where his house was. "We got some eggs at my house. I need to go back and change anyway~"

Oh yeah… today was the day of the Summer Festival. It was usually held the first week of summer to celebrate the warm weather, or something. Cyril didn’t know or did he care. He just stayed indoors, and sometimes he would walk along the beach. He didn’t want to be around that many people, since there was bound to be someone drunk in the mix. And drunk people meant trouble. They usually caused havoc and… he didn’t like that kind of stuff. Rolling his eyes at the reminder, he blinked in surprise when someone brushed past him. He was about to spin around and confront the person when he was distracted by… this one. His brow furrowed at his offer, and a scowl crossed his features.

”Do you really expect me to go to your place?” Cyril questioned rudely. ”I wouldn’t even walk one footstep by your side. I’m telling you to buy me new eggs, not drag me around the whole town of Trespiano.”

Abby's face fell when she heard that the market was closed but instantly perked up when she heard about the festival happening. "Hm, a festival huh? That sounds kinda neat." She didn't know how festivals were held in Trespiano but she assumed that they were a lot more quaint than the big spectacles that were held along Manhattan's concrete streets. "Well I really need to get this stuff if I want to sleep in my house tonight, but I wouldn't mind if we got a good look around. I haven't checked out the town yet." Abby finally stated, an excited smile gracing her face despite herself. Maybe her grandfather was right. She had stayed indoors all this time in anger for her parents' choices but maybe, just maybe living here wouldn't be so bad as she thought. Not if people were as nice as this girl.

Abby suddenly realized she didn't know her new tour guide's name. However, before she could ask the tall girl asked if she was from America. Abby blushed in embarrassment. "Is my accent that bad?" She asked with a sheepish chuckle, "Yeah, I'm from America. My name is Abigail, but you can call me Abby. What's your name?"

---

Sonya watched the pink-haired boy silently from her position behind the chimney of a three-story home. She had to admit, she was slightly impressed. He had sensed her presence for just a moment. Sonya wasn't trying but her stealth skills were top-notched. Normal people would never be able to sense her coming at them. To think that a teenage boy would have noticed her was proof that he wasn't normal at all. Of course, he couldn't be. He was the future 11th Vongola boss. Or at least, that's what Boss told her.

Sonya would never doubt his judgement. If he said this weird, pink-haired boy was his heir, then she would go along with it. However, she couldn't help but have second thoughts about why he chose her to find and train him. Sure, it was a great reason to leave Headquarters but she wasn't exactly the most patient person, especially when it came to kids. Hopefully Boss didn't give this job to her so she had an excuse to not be around HQ for a while. Inwardly sighing, Sonya pushed away thoughts of her own issues as she sprinted down the rooftops, not wanting to lose sight of her target.

There were odd little disturbances during her morning coffee hour.

For one, a bustling individual who rushed into the restaurant as if seeking refuge from the glorious weather outside. It was understandable to be honest, sunshine and all the festivities that came along with it wasn't for all people. She could understand that. It was not until, however, the figure took a nose dive for the bathroom that Saki understood the panic and relief that caught the boy's face. It was nature's calling. Seeing how this was one of the few places open this early in the morning it seemed completely reasonable that the boy had been in such a rush. Despite the urge to use the bathroom, he managed to spare a second acknowledging her existence in the busy coffee shop. How considerate.

There was another individual that seemed to sweep in just as soon as the other had left. Looking over she crossed her legs as she tilted her head in interest. His blue hair was distinct, his posture informal but poised, if Saki had to make one conclusion in the few seconds that she knew the young man it would be the fact that he probably knew she was examining him. Pulling her eyes away before he could respond, she returned to nursing her coffee before the waiter came over once again with a warm smile.

"Would you mind sharing the table?" he had asked.

"Not at all, could I get a cheesecake by any chance?"

"Of course, I'll get you another espres-"

"Just regular coffee would be fine."

Backing away, the man gave her a brief nod before going to greet the boy that had just entered, directing him towards her table if he wished to have a seat. After that he and his smile disappeared from the front of the restaurant as he retreated to the back to attend to bring out the orders.

"Well, I think some of the markets should still be open, especially since the festival's not started yet." Jak answered Abby. There was a pink haired boy who raced past, but Jak didn't really notice. Abby asked if her accent was bad, and Jak smiled a little more. "Your accent wasn't that bad, but it's still identifiable. My name's Jakki, but people usually call be Jak. Come on, we've probably got a lot of ground to cover before the festival. I'd hate to be responsible for you not sleeping in your house." she wondered who was Abby's parents were. That seemed excessive to Jak, not sleeping in a house for not getting the supplies on a list. Maybe Abby was one of those people on television that were entitled brats? No, that was just a stereotype, and their reality television was usually scripted anyway.

Jak started to walk towards the market. She hummed a tune, trying to keep a steady pace, but not leave Abby behind. Thankfully, there weren't many things to see on the route to the market, so Jak could think about the best route, then about how she was going to improve her swing. Maybe she needed to change her routine, spin the other way, tap the plate two times instead of one, or maybe just alter her routine completely. Her pitches were getting worse too, someone almost hit all of her throws in the last game she played in. Normally, no one managed to hit the throws, and if they did, it would be because she was off. Jak was losing her edge. She could not afford to lose her edge. She couldn't fail her father like that.

Vision is such a peculiar thing. Of course by proxy, so is being watched. It's the occupying of space in another's mind, chemically and physically. The rods and cones in the eyes send information to the brain and...well, ultimately, the observer takes a bit of their targets essence and creates a temporary representation in the brain. That representation becomes permanent the longer they observe, and the more essence they snag. Although normal people wouldn't notice such things, Joli had learned to feel it through incredible trial...or in other words, he was taught by his mother! And surely, he wasn't the only one that had learned that skill in a city with so much hate.

All this makes its way through Joli's mind as he orders his drink, feeling several pairs of eyes sucking information from his essence. Shortly after he pays, the teller returns, he grabs the warm drink out of the cashier's hand --a simple black coffee-- and he turns to seek a seat. Of no surprise, there are barely any chairs remaining in one of the few cafes still open this morning, but he does notice a table with just one girl. Joli isn't normally one for socializing, but the festival is tonight; it seems like a good idea to make at least one person's acquaintance.

Joli walks over to the table, noticing as he gets closer the large amount of purple hair the young girl possesses. She also seems to be around his age, which makes Joli feel a bit more comfortable. After all, if there is one chink in his armor, it's that his mother only cares about fighting, and has never taught him how to speak to a woman:

"May I sit here?"

Vector always hated the seasonal festivals that Trespiano held.

It was all a huge waste of time; Vector's men would always leave and take off for a brief vacation whenever they held these occasions, and that left him, the eleventh boss of CEDEF, with mountains of paperwork and jobs left undone, which resulted in a disappointed Decimo. But, this time of year, he had a plan. Of course, Tsunayoshi Sawada had not approved of it at first, but after clarifying that no innocent people would be harmed - which was only half true - was the plan approved. He just needed to find the perfect opportunity to carry it out, and hopefully, things would go the way he intended to set in motion.

Vector was not astronomically tall; rather, he stood just below six feet tall, which was slightly above average. He wore an all-black suit with a yellow long-sleeved polo shirt underneath, and black boots as his choice of footwear. His emerald eyes gleamed below the shadow of his black fedora, which matched the color of his concealed hair that only showed itself at the back of his head in a spiky fashion. Sawada had always stressed to him how much Vector resembled his late tutor, Reborn, the Sun Arcobaleno, in adult form. It was too bad, he didn't see the world's strongest hitman around anymore; in fact, not a soul had seen a single Arcobaleno since Sawada took his seat as Vongola Decimo.

Vector wore a shady, sinister smile as he trotted through the waning streets of Trespiano, sick of the way everything seemed so complacent. He dug a hand into his pocket and brought up a 'prehistoric' flip phone, preferring it over the bullshit smart phone jargon. He scrolled through his entire list of contacts, of which he had lost count at over three hundred, until the name "Sonya - TUTOR" showed up out of the other ten or twenty Sonya names. He wanted to check to see if she had located the candidate, or any of the other Guardian candidates for that matter, and so he proceeded to call her. For a short moment, the phone rung and rung, visibly unanswered, until someone bumped straight into him.

Vector was never one to completely lose his temper immediately, especially in this situation, where the person had run straight into him at full speed and managed to not budge Vector a single inch. He blinked down at the man, and decided that this wasn't an enemy, lowering his hand that had shut the phone to cancel the call and begun to reach inside his suit instinctively for his box. He sighed, not saying a single word to the man and stepped over him with a cool head, pacing down the street in silence. That was when he spotted another prospect down the street who looked similar to the man that ran into him.

From first impression, Vector could already see the potential of the boy as a natural hitman. He scratched the side of his head, walking up to him and extending a hand out as a friendly gesture. "Is that your brother? A bit raucous, needs more focus," he said dryly, tilting his head. "You can call me Vector. I'm a foreign trader looking for the marketplace, young sport."

---

Daisuke wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone get so frustrated over some eggs. This was definitely a first.

"B-but..." the Japanese boy appeared disappointed, frowning. Suddenly, his face boomed with excitement again, and his hand flew back to point down the street. It was almost as if he was immune to insults and rude people, his smile genuine and casual, like Cyril was a friend of his. He turned back and forth between the boy and the street, his mouth opening to speak.

"My house is just down there, silly! It's a short walk or run!"

Fionn sighed when his brother didn’t show up. Either he was preoccupied at home, or he had forgotten about his little brother as well. It didn’t bother him—he was usually forgotten, always in the background. For some reason, his brother was the exact opposite. Reiner was always called by name, even by people who lived across the town of Trespiano. Fionn was always ignored, always looked over. Even though this diverted attention from him, he had to admit, it did get a bit lonely at times. Sometimes he wanted to be yelled at, called on, have stories told about him.

The blond haired boy ran a hand through his hair, blinking a few times. When it was noontime, there wouldn’t be many shadows left to hide in. He didn’t like the sun. It was always too brutal this time of year, and he usually became red as a lobster. I don’t understand why we had to move to this part of Italy. Isn’t it closer to the equator than the rest of the country? he heaved another sigh, squinting his eyes up at the sky. When is Reiner going to get here?

A man walked up to him, making Fionn blink in surprise. At first, he thought it was Reiner, and was about to complain, when he saw that it was a stranger. He frowned, a bit edgy. He doesn’t seem hostile. He looks more like a businessman than a kidnapper. ”Uhm, the marketplace is just down this block, and one block to the right… or something.” he told him. ”I can lead you there. I think it’s easier for me to actually walk there than describe the way.”

”And you’re talking about Reiner, right?” he allowed his amber eyes to peer down the path his brother had sprinted down, a frown on his lips. ”He’s a good guy, but he forgets things easily. Also quite clumsy if you actually get to know him. I’m Fionn by the way.”

It was then that he finally realized that the man named Vector had been stretching out his hand for a handshake. Blushing, he took his hand and shook it. ”N-nice to meet you.” I’ve been talking too much, have I? I’m so stupid…

---

”I told you. I’m not going to your house to get some eggs.” Cyril barked at him. What didn’t this guy get? Couldn’t he sense the hostility that was coming off of him? Either this man was a complete idiot or he was too friendly. Cyril just went with thinking he was both. With a roll of his eyes, he heaved a sigh. It seemed to have been the eighteenth sigh that day, really. But the dark haired man was thinking. He would get yelled at if he went back home with no eggs. That, and he would have no breakfast. And Cyril had to have breakfast.

With a loud and brisk huff escaping from his lips, he narrowed his eyes. ”Okay, I’ll go to your house to get the eggs. You’re just lucky that I’m hungry.” he told him, turning up his nose at the brown haired Japanese boy. This idiot. I hope he doesn’t go to the same school as me. If he does, I’ll throw myself out a window.