DISCLAIMEr: Do not own KAtakyo Hitman REborn
Hello, how are you guys? Before you read on i want to explain the concept of this story. This is an OC self insert story about a girl who died and is retelling her story. I just want to clear this up so you'll understand it :)
I would also like the names of the candidates that the OC should end up with.
Hope you enjoy :O
"Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is to not stop questioning." —Albert Einstein
Chapter one: I cried for fear
The intention to captivate the audience is what the introduction of a story has in mind. A fairy tale is read and often, one would hear the words 'Once upon a time,' to give it an eternal feeling. Conversations between two or more usually starts with the words 'My name' or 'I am'. Today, this story is going to take a different turn.
Names hold power and that's the very reason why I won't tell mine.
(Even amnesiac people have names, for they hold identification and a feeling of belonging. Names are what shape a person into whom they become.)
You see I died.
Not yet anyways but I died later on. And it's a fundamental truth of life, everyone will die at one point. But since this is the beginning of my story I haven't died yet. Everything was still 'happy happy'. This story is about the precious moments of the times when I was still alive and breathing. It all began with orange skies, calm seas and my boyfriend. Beautiful hues were everywhere and everything felt anomaly perfect.
(There is however, no such thing as perfection because the world is cruel and there will always be a negative aspect.)
This, is still set in the beginning where everything is joyful, where I was content. It felt like any other day, but on the back of my neck I couldn't help but over think. The words 'calm before a storm' is exactly what I was thinking of.
Think. Thought. Thinking.
I have this lazy habit of thinking and well, I thought that 'what if today isn't like any other day' even with the state of normality everything seemed to be in—
"You okay babe?" I snapped out of my thoughts, blinking at the suave male voice.
"I..." paused, blurting 'oh, hey I have this strange feeling that something bad is going to happen' didn't seem like a good idea, so I quickly made up my mind and gave him my signature smile "I'm fine."
"You're lying."
His answer made me sigh, leave it to Blake to figure me out.
Blake; my boyfriend, my best friend and the most popular male in school. Honestly, I had no idea why he asked me out. Fate seemed to intertwine the oddest people together. Me, an odd wall flower and him, the Adonis worthy student.
(Fate; the inevitable, the very subject that strings everyone and anyone together, because no matter how small the meeting, it will always have a great impact.)
Not to mention his creepy fake foresight, glint-y eyes, enigmatic smiles and the fact that he lies through his teeth. Always concealing all intentions, each emotion in front of so many people. I, however, stayed quite, knowing the pain it would cause if he answered. Because why think of the past when you live for today and hope for tomorrow?
I encircled my arms around his neck "Don't worry, it's just a thought."
"Your thoughts are usually ri—"
I quickly cut off his sentence, giving him a passionate kiss. We broke apart after, I'm going to cut it short, 4 seconds. "Forget about it."
Blake gave 'the look', reminding me of Gibbs's stare from NCIS. Or should I rephrase my words and say 'the wizened stare.'
"Alright."
I frowned, not liking the new expression that slowly painted itself over his usual smiles. Letting go, we began an unofficial staring contest before giggles and snorts erupted from our mouths. Calloused hand grabbed my wrist, he grinned and shouted "Come on!"
"Where to?"
"Ad mare."
The main characters, in many stories, hated normality. Hated their sad life in general. Even if the author didn't describe it on paper, it was obvious that they want out. All were bitter, seeing the imperfection of life and not it's beauty. I was different back then, I loved my life, I appreciated it. I may not be someone famous, only a character amongst billions, but I was loved by many and I treasured that.
Psh.
I was so wrong.
SPLASH!
"You're thinking too much babe."
I rolled my eyes "No I'm not."
"Yes, yes you are."
"No."
"Yes."
"No—hey, you sure this is safe?"
He grinned "With me, it's always alright, Sepira."
Mama say what?
Did he just say what I think he said? I was really tempted to say 'mother fucker bitch what the hell didja say' but I'm not that type of person or at least in the outside I'm not that type of person. Most people, including Blake, sees me as the sweet kind girl next door. And I was willing to always keep that facade, as a false protection.
Being manipulative will bite me in the ass.
"Excuse me?" I asked, pushing myself away from him.
Sepira.
He said the name with so much Sep in the name means 'seven' coming from the Latin language, thus the month 'September'. Ira, can define many things. In Basque it means fern, Fijian means they, in French it's a verb, interlingua 'future of ir', in Italian it means wrath, Latin anger, Old Saxon her, Portuguese rage and Spanish; ire.
Literally the name meant 'seventh wrath'.
How could such a rage full name be voiced in such a loving way?
Blake looked at me in surprise "Babe I—"
I smiled, trying to keep it un-menacing, failing terribly at it. I mean what girlfriend wouldn't when their boyfriend just said another girl's name? I felt incredibly naive, heartbroken. Thinking that I, with obvious exceptions such as his mother and grandmother, am the only girl in his world. I had hoped for a Cinderella story, it sounded selfish, arrogant and honestly? I should've never thought like that.
"Who's Sepira?"
"She's...look I..."
I gave him minutes, I gave him time.
He never answered.
"Blake...I..." this was pitiful, I couldn't even choke out any words.
There had to be a reasonable explanation. I gazed upwards trying, pleading to see the joking smirk he always gave me. But nothing. Absolutely nothing. This really reminded me of a sappy love story. If I were younger I would've seethe in anger just like the definition of her name. However, I'm eighteen and I'm trying my hardest to understand. Though I really wanted to beat the crap out of him. This Sepira must be someone special. I felt the gut wrenching bubbling in my stomach, the air becoming denser and yes, I am jealous.
"It's fine I"'m trying to "understand."
I walked away from the sea "Come on, let's go and eat."
(Worst. Mistake. Ever.)
We went to Papa's Pizza, not many people were there but it was enough to keep the staff busy and neither one of us bothered to start a conversation. Blake had this pained look on his face and I hated it. I clenched my fist in annoyance.
"Look—"
"Babe I—"
We both paused before quick looking away. Talk about awkward.
"You first," he insisted.
"Blake...whoever this Sepira is, I won't bother you again. But, but I'm your girlfriend as well as your best friend. So even if it's not today, you can always trust me," I offered him my signature smile.
(A smile that I will forever smile, because even though I have two personas that smile will always be from the heart.)
He shook his head "I do trust—"
BANG!
"Put your hands in the air!"
3..2...1..Action.
As if on cue, screams tore the restaurant. Blake protectively stood before me, blocking my view of the armed people. I sidestepped a few inches, trying to get a better look. Around a dozen men, all foreign and wearing dark clothes, stood with tiered, sorrowful faces. They held lethal looking weapons, exchanging whispers in what sounded like Spanish or Portuguese.
"Listen up!" growled the leader. Judging by the way he walked, how he held himself and the confident aura he emitted signifies that. His face is tanned, multiple of hairline scars gathered at his left temple. Callused hands meant that he was used to holding weapons probably since his mid teens, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose indicates that it's be fractured multiple of times. The limp on his right leg showed that he was injured, two weeks ago. He didn't have the sway or the tenseness in his posture, a bit slouched with his chest a bit puffed out. This tells me that he lived a normal childhood only for his parents to be murdered from the three rings hanging from a necklace, lover too. The way he wore the suit made him look slightly uncomfortable giving me a hypothesis that he joined this group in his mid twenties. Bags hung underneath his eyes; mourning or stress and drinks alcohol, vodka most likely. Definitely the Alpha that has been through too much.
(A reluctant lone wolf driven by sadness.)
And yes, you could say that I'm very calculative.
"We're looking for a person," his voice echoed as he trailed around the room. His footsteps made a deafening click with each movement, every customer and staff held their breath. His eyes grazed all, inspecting, searching, yearning.
The man is desperate.
It was then that I noticed that Blake now fully stood in front of me. His back completely tensed when Alpha-man got closer. Not that I could blame him since the guy is bat shit scary.
"A murderer, a killer who's killed dozens. Mentally unstable. It's simple, you come out or each and every one of these people are killed!"
Panic.
This made no sense...a 'killer whose killed so many', why would Alpha-man threaten a group of strangers when it's clear that this 'murderer' is a total psychopath who wouldn't care? Unless there was a hidden meaning to it—
BANG, BANG!
"Shut up! Come out! We know you're here!"
They were blind, not knowing what he looked like. So this 'man or woman' could be some sort of assassin or hitman that hides their face. And these pack of wolves found some info that lead them to a Papa's Pizza, a small pizza palette located in an almost non-existent town.
"Babe, I want you to stay still," his voice low and careful. I gave Blake a confused look "What?" Unable to ask more, Blake unexpectedly pulled me into a tight embrace.
(James Bond. The whole situation was either James Bond, Ethan Hunt or at least Alex Rider. Guys in suits? Check. Guns? Check. Undercover teenager? Check.)
Blake shoved his hands out and...holy shit! Flames sprouted out of his palms! Like, black and white flames!
"B-Blake!" I screeched the same time as the man shouted "Byakuran!"
A malicious expression crawled onto Blake—or whoever he really is—making a shiver run down my spine.
I don't like this at all.
Guns were pointed at him, his reaction?
"Maa~ why don't we all calm down? And Signore, you do know the extent of my powers ne?"
I'll repeat it, I don't like this. At. All. You don't just say something like you're talking with your friends when guns are pointed at you!
I'm more used to the teasing full Blake. With his prominent dimples and mystifying eyes. This person is a stranger. Too lazed for the situation, pale lips stretched out like Joker and eyes dangerously slanted, terrifyingly calculating. This isn't Blake, well at least it isn't the Blake I know. Eighteen-year-old Blake still had that teenage awkwardness in his posture, his movements were still hesitant and his smiles were pure. The teen—no man, here is a veteran, acts like a sly fox and smiled like one too. His facade is hiding something deep, something sinister.
"Byakuran you are to be captured and executed for killing more than a third of the Cosa Family."
My Blake would never hurt a soul.
(SPOILER: Okay, in the future, that's a big fat lie. SPOILER END.)
This has to be some sort of joke. If so, began a voice in my head, then why does radiate killer intent?
This Byakuran hummed in what sounds like delight "Too bad, I disagree. I'm not gonna die today."
Too shocked to do anything I stayed frozen, entranced at the hot flames engulfing us. Beautiful yet intense like hot water, it didn't hurt me. Instead, I slowly felt my mind harmonising; relaxed. But then I heard agonising wails, the smell of burnt bodies and laughter. Menacing, twinkling laughter.
Wings appeared on Bla-Byakuran's back and we flew into deep abyss of the night.
"W-what's happening! Why, what—please!" I manage to stutter out, shock ridden on my face. I can still feel the adrenaline inside of me. I'm flying with my not-so-sure-boyfriend who may be a criminal. This defies every law of gravity, it goes against Isaac Newton. Well, it didn't seem so weird since there are wings on his back but still! I blinked at the disappointment that flashed through his eyes.
"We'll be down in a sec, I promise."
And he kept it.
When we reached ground I instantly pushed him away from me. I don't want to admit that I'm scared to my bones, though not of him rather for him.
(Fear is an emotion. We fear the unknown, subjects that we have yet to understand. However, fear is what makes us humans. It is a part of humanity. And in time we will learn to accept our fears.)
I needed an explanation and perhaps I'll get a better understanding of the whole situation.
"Please," I begged not knowing what else to say.
I didn't see this Byakuran nor did I see awkward jock Blake. Instead it's a man with jaded eyes. His smirk vanished entirely and is replaced with a solemn thin line. Right hand reached out to me, gently stroking by left cheek. I couldn't hold it anymore; confused, scared, shocked. I cried.
He stood, right hand still on my cheek.
"Who-" I hiccuped "are you?"
Silence met me.
It felt like hours, suddenly the man broke it "I can't tell you."
I glared at him "How—"
"You need to remember on your own."
"What do you mean 'remember'! I'm perfectly fine! The problem is you Blake! Just. Who. Are. You!"
I felt my knees collapse and I cried silently yet harder.
"Please, remember."
His voice sounded strained. Pain lacing over it. Everything happened too fast; one moment we were at the beach without a care in the world, now I'm stuck with a person who could be a mass murderer. So I ran. I need time and I need space. I don't care whether or not this act is considered cowardly all I need is reason.
I want to go home.
(Wishes will be a fucking pain.)
The two couple began to argue, they were like day and night.
"Please the hu—" the man interrupted, not bothering to listen.
"Sepira they're using you!"
"No! You need to learn to understand—"
He could feel the rage building up and finally he let loose "You're dying because of them!"
-x-x-x-
"Arcobaleno, the rainbow. Our arched protectors."
-x-x-x-
"Are you sure it's a good idea?" question the red head.
His blond companion gave an all knowing smile before going back to his paper work "I promised her."
-x-x-x-
He tried to reach out for him, ire in his eyes "CURSE YOU!
-x-x-x-
"Till we meet again Luce," the woman nodded, smiling and waving. Little did he know this will be their last meeting. She could feel the lone tear cascading down her cheek.
-x-x-x-
His obsidian eyes glinted with amusement as he smirked "The world's greatest hitman."
-x-x-x-
The dark hair girl swung her legs; in and out as she sat the edge of the building. Her eyes gleaming like the twinkling stars above. She opened her mouth and her sweet voice cuts through the silent surroundings "You know I had a dreamed once."
"What happened?" asked the boy next to her, his light eyebrows raised.
She smiled, dimples on her cheeks "Reality."
My eyes snapped open and I met blue.
Blue.
Deep, clear blue. A beautiful colour that symbolised harmony, tranquility yet sorrow all the same.
I instantly jerked upwards, the last thing I can recall were gunshots, fights and that rather odd dream. I blinked, was everything from before unreal? Hope bubbled in my chest. If everything was a dream then Blake and I didn't fight nor did those people shoot Papa's, the name Sepira—
'Sepira, they're using you!'
The words echoed in my mind. There goes the name again; Sepira. However, that's the least of my worries right now. I need to get back home...
...wait, what?
I furiously looked around to see white sand, clear water, the scorching sunlight and the nice breeze that went along.
Where. The. Hell. Am. I?
I pulled myself up finding the feeling of my weight quite odd. I brushed my floor length hair away from my—I narrowed my eyebrows, last time I checked I had short nape length hair. I touched my face; once outlined with a delicate jaw and high cheekbones are now chubby. I brang my hands in front of me. My fingers aren't delicate and lithe anymore instead they were short and small.
I screamed.
Only to scream louder at the sound of my voice.
"Cosa è successo? Stai bene Bambina? [What happened? Are you alright child?]"
I turned around to face an attractive woman. She wore casual shorts and a pretty blouse, her blonde hair was carelessly braided and a pair of glasses sat at the bridge of her nose. The woman could've passed as a tourist but my judgement said otherwise. Her tense posture showed alertness and the way she held her left hand always brushed her waist indicated that there might be some type of weapon. The way she held herself hinted tat she worked for some type of intelligence but couldn't be since she wore a ring that looked like a mob trend. She was probably a normal girl wanting to work for intelligence but got dragged into the wrong crowd. Her eyes, an unnatural pink tried to look kind though couldn't with all the paranoia and monotone it has. They are deadly, a predator.
Double no: I am not alright and I can't speak Italian or Spanish.
"Mio non Italiano, English...?" I'm pretty sure I just said 'my no Italian, English'.
She looked at me in surprise before running towards me and putting her jacket over my shoulders, revealing countless of scars.
"Bambina why are you in such a state? You can speak English yes?" she asked in a gentle tone.
"No—I mean yes I can speak English but I don't know why I'm like this...is this a dream? It has to be! I-I-" the woman probably mistook my panic for shock as she patted my now very long hair.
"Hush. It is alright Bambina. My name is Orlanda. Let's bring you back home—"
Is this where the stranger danger rule apply? Because I have no idea and there can be a high chance of her bringing me to an auction. The possibilities are endless and I should know that every person in this world wears a mask to hide themselves *cough*Blake*cough*.
"No!"
"Perdono? [pardon]"
Oh gosh I'm starting to really act like a kid.
Orlanda gazed at me for a moment before chuckling "My Bambina, you are a cautious child. It is a good thing. But for now you need to trust me, we don't want you to stand naked around here do we?"
I accepted.
Which is stupid considering all those books I've read about kidnapping. But at the same time I didn't understand (probably because of body mentality that I am in). Because before one meets a friend aren't they strangers in the first place? Plus I was naked and felt really awkward.
I gaped at the black Maserati in front of me and holy macrons does it looked amazing. I went inside the car, slightly uncomfortable with the sand sticking against my skin, and the drive lasted for about forty five minutes at best. We stopped at a rather plain looking house with creme walls, red roof and a nice garden. The garage door open and I felt jaws drop at the amount of cars, the garage is definitely bigger than the house.
Orlanda saw me gaping and winks "I love my cars."
Once we are in the living room Orlanda gave me a t-shirt that would be more of a dress in this...body. After putting it on I sat on the comfortable couch and sipped the lukewarm hot chocolate. A nice silence filled the air for a few minutes before I broke it.
"Thank you."
"Hmm?" she looked up and I gave her my signature smile.
"You helped me, a mere stranger and even though I was quite hostile you still insisted. So thank you," I said and looked back at her to see surprise written on her face that gradually melted into a warm expression.
"You have a kind smile. Kind of reminds me of the skies."
I felt my eyes widen only to turn back to normal "Thank you, so where in Italy am I?"
"Sicily, may I ask what your name is?"
No, I mean, names hold power. I thought of a random name and said "Rue."
In English, the name means 'bitterly regret and wish it to be undone' yet Rue is also French for 'street'. Rue is also a type of genus linking it to the Ruta plant that has a rather nice smell. 'Rue' is also a character from the Hunger Games whom risked her life to save the main character, Katniss. Did I mention that Rue is also my favourite character? I literally brawled out my eyes when she died. The name's a lie and I can bet that Orlanda knew that as well. She didn't press further, simply asking more questions.
"What's you last name?"
"I...don't know."
These are the current options:
1) I'm an orphan
2) My parents never told me
3) Tell her the entire truth
I'll just stick to number one because number two sounded stupid and if I told number three she'd probably send me off to a mental hospital. Just to be sure I counted the number of teeth I had, twenty. My estimation would be that I'm currently in a body of a four-year-old, something along the lines.
"I'm an orphan."
Weren't kids supposed to speak like 'I'mma dun haf a mommy nd daddy' or something like that?
Oh well, she can pass me off as a genius. That can totally work.
"Judging from your speaking patterns you're much smarter than others your age aren't you?"
Holy shit she took the bait, though considering that I'm talking in a speech pattern above my age I couldn't blame her.
"I guess so, all I remember before this is running."
"From what?"
(I wanted to understand, I honestly did. But the sick feeling in my chest prevented me to do so, the clogging in my throat made me say irrational things and the water in my eyes wanted to escape. I was scared of him.)
"Fear."
After our conversation I asked Orlanda if I could take a bath. I now stand in the bathroom, marvelling at the sight. Both the floors and walls are made of marble, there's a white bathtub with golden taps and a very expansive looking shower. I instantly turned the tap on the bathtub on, humming to myself as I waited the water to flow.
Truthfully, I wanted to look at myself in the mirror but the sink just has to be so tall.
I slip my clothes off and slid into the bathtub.
At that moment, I stared at my reflection.
Or the girl staring back at me.
Her hair long, uncut and could pass off as a blue in the light. Slightly tanned skin, chubby face and hetereochromic eyes. She even has the weird flower birthmark right at the centre of her chest. The girl, in my opinion, didn't look cute with her street brat hair and scowl.
My thoughts went back to Blake or Byakuran or someone.
Was everything a lie? I feel like thirteen-year-old girl having her first heartbreak. I began to cry, I hate this so much. Being lost, no clue of how I got transformed into a four-year-old and the madness concerning Blake. I wished everything was a dream.
For the first time, I saw all the negatives in life.
What would have been a beautiful scenery; green grass, strong trees, a large river and a white gazebo was ruined with the dark grey clouds, lightning and rain. Wind howled with confusion, sadness and pain. Great, am I in another mysterious place? Except this one made me feel anxious. I began to panic as flashes of white came to me.
"Calm down."
I clamped my palms over my ears, hallucinating is so in the top of my list "I can't."
"Why?" the voice asked.
I saw flashes of Blake.
"I...I'm scared!"
Flashes of hot burning flames.
A boy.
The rainbow.
And—
I woke up to the sound of people talking. Dragging myself off the bed I walk towards the door, my mind wondering to the dream...
...what was it about again? Tiptoeing to reach the handle, I peaked at the small opening. In the kitchen I saw Orlanda setting plates out whilst holding a phone. She smiled, nodded and said thank you in Italian(o) before hanging up. I opened the door wider, the smell of delicious food swaying to my nose. I could feel my mouth water.
(Food, I will soon realise, is a gift. Anyone that has the ability to gain food is fortunate."
"That smells so good."
Orlanda grinned "Buongiorno [Good morning]."
"Morning," I replied taking a seat at the dining table "What did you make?"
Orlanda placed the dishes on top of the table "Breakfast pizza; oregano, mozzarella and tomato. Served with grape juice. Bon appetite."
I took a bite of the pizza and moaned in delight, Italians are amazing cooks no doubt about it. It's almost as good as Papa's Pizza. I paused. Papa's Pizza; the gunshots, the screams, the flames and revelation. Not to mention my family, they'd be worrying about me right now! And that dream...I'm probably the most terrible person in the world at remembering things but I...my eyes widen the flashes! Of Blake, a boy, the rainbow and—
"Anything wrong?"
I blinked and looked up, shaking my head I asked "Who did you call before?"
"My boss. Asked if I could take the day off. After you eat brush your teeth and shower, we're going shopping."
When Orlanda said 'we're going shopping' I honestly thought that we were going to go a few blocks down. What I didn't expect is being on a plane heading towards Milan. I calculated all the odds in my mind, Orlanda wouldn't be able to afford all this unless she has no living relatives. My eyes widens in realisation; the fancy cars, nice bathroom and spare money. All would have been used on bills yet...Orlanda's alone. Just like me.
I frowned, here I am pitying myself while Orlanda is out doing the fullest in life. Her family are probably dead while I on the other hand know that mine's alive. It hit me like a ton of bricks: how selfish I am.
"Lonely," I whisper "You must be really lonely Orlanda." I grabbed her hand and gave her my signature smile "Don't worry I'll be here."
She raised an eyebrow, Orlanda's a smart woman she must've gotten my message "You're an odd one Bambina. Too perspective for your own good."
I only smiled wider and throughout the whole trip we watched Pinocchio.
Ironic really. As time passed I began to lie more than I usually do yet my nose never elongated. I dug deeper and deeper because if I keep lying I won't have to remember. And I hated it, lying made me feel as if I have a tumour inside of me. Slowly spreading cancer in my soul; eating me away, leaving destruction.
"Why did Pinnochio lie?"
"He lies because no one taught him right from wrong. That's why he has Jiminy Cricket, to help him," answered Orlanda.
Oops, did I say that outloud?
When we arrived at Milan I felt a sense of familiarity. I went here before, with my family. It was a short trip and would've been longer if my brother didn't get sick but I loved every second of it. The churches, high end fashion and luxurious cars, Milan felt like a dream. However, this Milan, the one in front of me looks-is slightly different.
There is no family. Speaking of family I wonder how they are—
"Alright," Orlanda began "let's start off with hair!"
We walked into a small salon with a homey yet elegant feeling to it. A man, couldn't be older than twenty, came up to us. He wore a black turtleneck and relatively loose jeans. Dark orange hair stuck up everywhere, a slightly snide smile. His eyes were a light turquoise colour and had the same uptight glint as Orlanda's. I couldn't see much because of the long sleeve turtleneck but from his build I could see agility and precision. His calloused hands indicates years of hard work with weaponry such as guns or knives. However, unlike Orlanda who is tense this man's body is more relaxed like...Blake or Byakuran. Yet the aura around him was more welcoming and had a sense of tiredness. In conclusion he's like Blake: a veteran.
(Veteran. Vet-er-an. A person who has had a long experience in a particular field.)
From the corner of my eyes I could see a row of women glaring at Orlanda, seething with envy. I instinctually gripped Orlanda's hand tighter, very uncomfortable with the stares.
"Ciao Orlanda, how may I help you today?"
"Morning to you too Toni, I just want you to style my friend's hair here."
He raised an eyebrow and smile at me, bending down to my size "Ciao Bambina, I'm Toni what's your name?"
I frowned at the baby talk, certainly not used to it but nonetheless I replied "Rue."
"Rue? That's a very pretty name."
At this I didn't reply.
"Well I'm going to get some stuff. I'll leave you with Toni, kay Rue?"
Awkward.
After washing my hair Toni bring me to a high stool leather seat. And once again I stared at the girl in the mirror. Now that I look more carefully I noticed the details; flat eyebrows, large angled eyes, the upper lip slightly thinner than the bottom's and the longest hair possible. Before I knew it Toni began snipping my hair "Aren't you supposed to ask me what I want?"
He shrugged "Sometimes it's better to leave it to the hairstyle, yes."
With each snip I felt my head becoming lighter...and lighter. I now have a fringe a few centimetres above my eyebrows and a layered hair cut, the first reaching my jaw while the second was just below my collarbone.
"There, all beautiful Bambina."
I looked a lot like my great grandmother.
"Thank...you."
"Rue, Toni are you done?"
Orlanda came walking in, beautiful as ever, with several bags on her arm.
"Wah! You look so cute Bambina!"
I took a glance at the mirror...maybe I did.
After that we said goodbye to Toni (though he seemed more intent on flirting with Orlanda) and went to more various shops. It felt...quite strange really, almost as if Orlanda was actually my elder sister. She laughed with me and helped me pick out clothes that I would never see coming. We stopped at a small open roof cafe and rested there for a while. I couldn't help but let my mind wander off at the passing crowd.
Ever since I was little, ever since before I met Blake I knew that I'm more calculating than most. I see a person or a thing and I can just tell. An ability really, but I never knew why. For instance; I could tell that the man wearing the business suit a few tables from us isn't actually a business man. The lady in front of him is genuinely rich with her lustrous salon hair, pure diamonds and a Valentino dress. But the man isn't. He may look rich but the way his hair is slowly sticking up tells me that he was wearing a cheap hair product. His fidgeting explains how uncomfortable he is in his seat because though the cafe is small, it is quite high end. And his hands, every so often they would tug at either his sleeve or collar, clearly not used to the suit. Hands calloused says that he's a hard worker for labour jobs. A part of me is feeling pity for the lady since it's quite obvious (to me at least) that the man is a con artist.
I could call myself Sherlock Holmes.
"Oregano is that you?"
Is that a blush I see on Orlanda's face? And 'Oregano'? Is that supposed to be some type of code name? So does this confirm my suspicions of her working for some type of dark intelligence? I mean, I'm always right.
So many questions unanswered.
"Ganauche," Orlanda smiled, a bright smile. Not like the usual ones she gave me where even though she tried it seemed slightly off, this smile made her beam like an angel. This smile is from her heart.
The man, Ganauche, reminded me a lot of a model I once knew from the place I truly belong. Ganauche is certainly Adonis worthy and couldn't be much older than twenty, same with Orlanda. He had black hair with blonde bangs and wore a pristine suit that shows his fortune. He could pass off as the model I once knew except the model I knew didn't have scars that looked like torture wounds nor did he have guns hiding behind his suit. His eyes were beautiful; a lightning green that (definitely a trick of the light) would radiate a spark every so often. His smile was relaxed and showed no predatorily intent. I however, knew better. Yet like Blake, like Toni, like Orlanda: he's tiered. Not in a sleepy kind of way. Just one that's seen too much for someone so young as him.
"Ah!" Orlanda blushed "Please sit down."
Oh great, am I gonna be a third wheel?
Then the two started speaking rapid Italian. Every now and then Ganauche would glance at me before turning back to Orlanda and giving a heart warming smile to her.
"Ganauche, this is Rue. Rue, this is my coworker, Ganauche III."
Ganauche smiled at me, differently from the smile he gave Orlanda. It had no ill intent nor did it look barbie fake. But it lacked the warmth, not that I can blame him since we've only just met. Nevertheless I genuinely smiled because even though I didn't know him he makes Orlanda, a person who I now categorise as a precious sister, happy. Seeing me smile, Ganauche looked slightly surprised.
"Hey...have I met you somewhere?"
I blinked "Unless you're that model then no."
"Model?" he asked himself before looking at me with narrowed eyes "I'm sure I've seen you before."
I shrugged "It's probably someone who looks like me."
A thoughtful look overcame Orlanda's face "Now that you mention it—"
She could never finish her sentence as gun shots filled the air.
Yet again.
.
I fear many things and as life goes on I will learn to accept them. But a part of me always whispers: what if you don't?
SOOOO...watcha guys think? this is my first time writing a self insert and i was just so inspired by all hte others in this fandom. I hope you all vote to say who you want Rue to end up with, just private message me or leave a review. If you have any questions just go ahead and ask ;)
BTW anyone willing to beta for this story?
Question of the day: Favourite food?
Really hoped that you guys liked it :)