Chapter One
Year 1941. Young Celeste Kanzaki stood in the middle of a big garden. Tall trees towering over the field, leaves rustling. Colorful flowers bending gently in the wind. The girl clad in a simple sky blue dress reaching her knees sat down on the grass, then pushed herself down, her back against the soil, her blonde hair spreading over the green grass. She watched he white clouds pass the sky lazily, she counted in her mind the time as a particularly shaped cloud covered the sun for a moment. Three minutes, forty-two seconds. Then, there was a one minute pause and the sun was shining without the clouds intruding its' rays. There was a loud shout coming from her left side, probably her brothers playing football again. The noise made some birds fly up from the trees. The small birds flew above the girl's head. One single feather landed in her open palm. Celeste watched. Her eyes reflected the blue and white mix of the clouded sky. Her eyes, which she hated.
Three boys, all older than the girl, came up to her, their face sweaty, large grins on their young, still childish faces.
"Come on, Cele, let's play!" Edmund, the eldest, said.
"I'm busy." Was her calm reply. Her passive face contrasted with the boys' excitement greatly.
"With what?" Nicholas asked, cocking a brow in amusement.
"With watching."
"Watching? What, clouds?"
Celeste's thoughtful expression finally broke and a small smile appeared on her lips. "Life passing by."
The boys laughed at the silly response. Celeste laughed too. She got up from the grass, dusted her dress from the dirt and chased after her brothers.
-
Fire. It was everywhere. Spreading around in the whole house, it was in every room, in every corner, on the cook, on the servants, who were still running in an attack of panic and fear, on the youngest brother, who was slowly crawling towards her. She stood, as if paralyzed, her wide eyes watching the scene before her. One of the maids turned in her direction, a soundless scream escaping her mouth before a piece of wood had fallen over her, covering her bunt body. The look of pure panic carved itself in Celeste's mind forever.
The house was falling apart around her, yet she couldn't will her body to escape. The girl hadn't done anything to move. Jonathan, the youngest of her brothers, one year older than Celeste, raised his head. She stared back at him, feeling the same mixture of emotions that overcame the now burnt to death servants' senses slowly rising inside her small body, like a serpent lazily raising its' head to suddenly attack with its' poisonous fangs. The moment it attacked was just when Jonathan locked his brown eyes with hers. Her mouth opened suddenly, releasing a loud, shrill scream. The girl struggled, not knowing what to do. She knew she'd die soon, the fire was surrounding her, the smoke was already filling her lungs. She turned around, not wanting to see the hell that had been created in her house. Then, Celeste spotted an opening, a small area the fire had not yet covered. Her mind was oddly blank, as if shut down, the body moving on its' own. She ran, ran, ran towards the hole in the wall.
Jonathan lied on the floor, the flames consuming his body. His last conscious thoughts concerned his younger sister. No, his half-sister. It didn't matter; he loved her all the same. He watched as she turned around, her back facing him, and ran away towards the wall. His 10-year-old mind marveled at the unusual color of her eyes. His own closed, the pain giving him blessed oblivion just before death.
-
Five men wearing Nazi uniforms stood in the garden, speaking loudly in German and laughing. The body of a man lied on the ground, blood flowing from the gun wounds on his head and chest. Beside him, a petite woman was kneeling, her hands and face covered with blood. She was crying, her head bent down, her black hair – usually shining, silky and smelling of peaches, now dirty, tousled and greasy – as a curtain shadowing her face. A few feet away the body of the middle son was being buried slowly by the falling snow. Nicholas had his eyes cast up, towards the sky, the crescent moon visible in his misty light brown orbs. Edmund staid hidden behind a thick tree, his legs shaking with fear, tears pouring down his cheeks. His clothes were burnt slightly, and the skin on his left arm was red and covered with blebs.
Celeste fell to the ground out of instinct, and began to slowly crawl towards her hidden brother. She was shaking from the cold, fear and pain. Her 9-year-old brain couldn't exactly comprehend what was happening, or what was she feeling at the moment. Maybe it was just fear, pain and shock. Maybe it was the strong desire to live. Maybe it was something else, burning her from the inside, the flames hotter than the actual fire. She didn't know. But, one step at a time. She had to get to Edmund unnoticed.
Edmund watched as the soldiers took turns in raping his mother. He was about to let his fury take over, her wanted desperately to show himself and kill them all. But the exact moment, he caught a slight movement in the corner of his eye. Celeste was crawling towards him, her face dirty and stained with tears. He crouched down and carefully picked her up from the ground. He hugged her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder, wanting to muffle their mothers' screams and the soldiers' laughs. He felt Celeste hugging him back, with equal desperation.
It all happened in an instant. After the five men were done, one of them shot Kasumi Kanzaki, the bullet piercing her forehead and coming out from the other side of her head. Edmund grabbed Celeste and jolted, running as fast as he was able. He reached his motorbike which was untouched by the fire, hopped on and, with Celeste clutched tightly to his chest, started the engine. The soldiers noticed him just then, but it was too late; Edmund disappeared in the forest, his little sister curled up on the bike before him.
-
Celeste stared down at her brother's lifeless body. The bag with groceries which was held by her arm fell to the floor, its' contents spilling at her feet. She fell to her knees.
"Ed…" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Ed…"
He didn't respond. She didn't expect him to anyway.
A red swastika was painted on the wall in front of her. A red swastika, painted in her brothers' blood. Her brave brothers' blood, the blood of a man who wasn't afraid and openly admitted where his loyalties lie. A person who wasn't afraid to say out loud that he wishes for all Nazi and Soviet soldiers to rot in hell, where they rightfully belonged. His insides were lying beneath him, visible to her eyes. Her tears mixed with his blood on the floor.
"Edmund… Ed." Celeste sobbed, covering his cold hand with hers. It was just as cold.
The crescent moon above shone brightly, illuminating the dirty streets and the small house on the far side. A typical house poor people would live in. In that small brick house, something snapped.
Something snapped inside Celeste.
She got up from the bloody ground and made her way towards the sign on the wall. Pulling out a short knife out of her bag, she crossed out the sign. Then, she began to go through Edmund's personal belongings, searching for something intently. It took her quite a lot of time, but she managed to find a thin notebook under his mattress. She flipped it open. Her different colored eyes shone with an inner light as Celeste read the list of names and her half-brother's plan, he'd thought of everything way ahead. Her brother wanted to get revenge. He couldn't. Now, she was responsible for it all. She wanted to end what her beloved brother had begun. It was because of him that she was still alive. She has to pay him back.
12-year-old, Celeste got up from her knees and grabbed her bag. She packed the most important things she could find among the mess the intruders have made. Some clothes, the groceries she'd bought, and the notebook. Under her own mattress, she found an old photograph. Her mother, Kasumi's husband, his three sons from his first marriage, and Celeste, in the very middle. She hid the picture in the deepest pocket of her bag. The deep need for vendetta reflected in her eyes as she exited the house and walked through the deserted streets of Paris.
One step at a time.
-
Hannibal Lecter followed Lady Murasaki as the two walked through the mass of people. It was Saturday, the day Hannibal was allowed to see his aunt. The boy was holding a basket in his hands and watched as people passed him by. He could read their faces so easily. It was somewhat a disappointment. Everyone was so easy to read, so simple. Except Lady Murasaki, of course. She was a woman as beautiful as she was mysterious. Very.
The woman came to a stop in front of a man, who was selling fresh vegetables. Hannibal paused walking a few feet behind her. Someone brushed past him, shoulder touching his shoulder. He turned slowly. A pleasant smell of peaches reached his nostrils.
It was a girl, he'd say she was his age. 15 years old. Quite tall, but shorter than him by three inches. Long blonde hair stopping just above her waistline. The fringe shadowed her eyes. His eyes traveled to her neck almost automatically. A nice, average long neck. A thin gold chain was wrapped around it and disappeared beneath her light green shirt. Her skin was an odd mixture of Caucasian white and an Asian yellow tint, barely visible. Hannibal doubted anyone but him would've notice such a delicate shade.
The girl raised her head to look at him. Hannibal blinked.
"Sorry." She said quietly, repeating the word in French, Italian, German and, to his slight surprise, Japanese. Hannibal stared into her eyes with a passive expression. The left one was dark brown, it looked a bit similar to Lady Murasaki's eyes. The dark, almost black color that was significant to the Japanese. The right eye, however, held a light, contrasting shade of blue. Hannibal had never seen eyes like this, but he could recall a short note which was written in one of the books he's been studying biology from.
Heterochromia. In anatomy, heterochromia refers to a difference in coloration, usually of the irises but also of hair or skin. It's a result of the relative excess or lack of melanin, a pigment. It may be inherited, or due to disease or injury.
"It's all right." He replied in English. Still looking at her eyes. She, however, hadn't grown tense of uncomfortable under his piercing, penetrating gaze. Quite the contrary; she began to study him through his orbs as well.
"Come, Hannibal," Lady Murasaki called for the boy just as a man yelled, "Get over here, you filthy orphan!"
Hannibal's eyes shifted and focused on the man. Short, overweight, bald, small, pig-like eyes, a broken nose. Dressed in a white cook uniform, stained here and there. He held a basket filed with groceries and tapped his right foot impatiently, expectantly staring at the blonde-haired girl. Lady Murasaki also shifted her attention to the man, but he pretended not to see the beautiful woman and the frown on her face.
The girl turned her head slowly, meeting the man's gaze with an empty one. The cook couldn't handle her stare for long and turned around, pretending he wasn't afraid. Pretending that he had power over the young girl. The girl threw Hannibal one last glance before turning and running off towards the fat man and taking the basked from his hands. The two soon disappeared in the crowd.
"The girl has quite a captivating gaze, doesn't she?" Lady Murasaki asked as she and Hannibal proceeded down he street.
Hannibal didn't reply.
Author's Note: This was originally an One-Shot, but it turned out to be a bit too long, so I've decided to split it into a short story. It took me a total of 5 Chapters. I will add the next one this Wednesday, so stay tuned :)