Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. The Desserts format is courtesy of Roses of Sharon.
Summary: A series of character studies, because every character deserves a tale, even if it is never heard. Part One: Blondies.
Chapter Summary: Blondies. Dino, Spanner, Belphegor, Rasiel, Iemitsu, Ken, Colonello, Giotto.
Desserts
Part I: Blondies
i. Dino
They used to call him a dumb blonde. Didn't he fit the stereotype to the T? He was blonde, bumbling, clumsy and air-headed. But that had changed and he had changed. They stopped calling him dumb a long time ago. Maybe it was when he became boss and solved a financial crisis that even the most genius accountant called impossible. Maybe it was before that, back in high school when he'd first stood up for himself. He couldn't remember now. Now they called him Boss or Bucking Horse, the young blonde boss of the Cavallone. Too bad he was still waiting to be called something different...something better. Still waiting for someone to call him Dino...Dino the person, not Dino the boss or Dino the blonde. Just Dino.
ii. Belphegor
People used to have trouble believing he was a prince. After all, princes were tall, dark and handsome. He'd seen the Disney movies and read the fairytales along with the other children. He'd thrown them aside, scoffing at their uselessness. Nobody knew but later, when the castle was asleep, he'd ripped each and every page into shreds. He'd blamed it on Rasiel of course. He was a prince, he could do that. Oh yes, he was a prince. Nobody would doubt it long. Because Belphegor might not be tall-but he'd grow. He might not be handsome-but there was something charming in the smile of his, the one that called you to death. But he was dark yes. His hair might be blonde, but who really cared about that? His soul was dark and that was enough. Being Prince Charming wasn't his goal, it never was. Because he was born a prince yes; he was born Prince the Ripper.
iii. Rasiel
Rasiel was the typical dumb blonde, though his arrogance didn't let him see the fact. He was first born but born to be last. His foolishness was destined, after all, wasn't the blonde always the bad guy? And didn't the bad guy always get defeated in the end? So how didn't he see it? His hair fell about his face, blonde strands spread along the mud caked ground, rain washing the blonde free of the red that stained it. He wouldn't know that though. His eyes were unseeing, staring straight ahead at his own defeat. Maybe he should've run when he had the chance.
iv. Spanner
Spanner wasn't beautiful, like Dino. He wasn't attractive like Belphegor. No, he was just Spanner-waif-like and pale, pale, pale-a ghost trapped in his own world. But unlike Dino or Bel, he was free. Yes, he was pale, blond and blue-eyed. Endlessly pale from the time he spent inside his workshop, tinkering on something or other for days on end. But he chose that, he liked that. The world outside wasn't for him, the world inside his head was bigger, was better. He was bigger, better than Dino or Bel whose worries weighed them down and made them small. But they chose that as well, didn't they?
v. Iemitsu
He'd always been noticed. Blonde against tanned skin, looming over others. Yes, he was noticeable in Japan, his home now. But he liked that. He liked standing out, even when some laughed at him, even when others gawped and stared. Because at least they saw him, at least they noticed him. At least here he was something, something more than the insignificant shadow he'd been. At least here he didn't fade, worthless and plain, into the background like he did in Italy. His home....no, not anymore. Because the shadows were too dark and he'd grown afraid of that dark. Here he was in the light, the light that looked so like those blonde yellow tresses.
vi. Colonello
Colonello was blonde and beautiful, one who looked like the fallen angels painted in the Italian churches. But sometimes he had to wonder, when he stood late at night in front of the mirror, blue staring into reflected blue for hours, if fallen demon didn't sound more like him. After all, angels didn't kill...they didn't grab the gun and shoot and shoot and shoot until they could see no sense of movement. They certainly didn't resume shooting after that, letting bullets riddle and tear through the bloated flesh of the bodies because they liked the sound of gunfire, because they hoped that sound would overwhelm them and drown them, that that sound might signal their own end. No, angels most certainly didn't do that. No, Colonello thought, blue into blue forever, not even demons did that. Only humans did.
vii. Giotto
When the Vongola Rings had been given, the Guardians set and gathered around their boss, when history had been set in motion, one might think that point was serious and holy. No, not when that boss was the Vongola Primo, Giotto. When his rain guardian had asked why rain users held a blue flame while the sky held orange, Giotto had fallen silent for a moment. Blue was the color of the sky yes...but it wasn't the color of the Sky Flame holders. No, the holders of the flame of sky weren't pure enough for the color, they were more orange-the color of fire, of pain, of death...for they certainly weren't pure. They couldn't be, not to do what they had to do. Giotto though just joked that it went with his hair better.
viii. Ken
Ken stood out, the odd man out in the trio. He was blond, light against Mukuro's darkness, against Chikusa's sobriety. He'd always felt it, the weirdness of being the only one in the trio to stand out. So he tried harder than the other two to fit in, to emulate the other two. And he cried every time he failed, though he hid it well. What he'd never realize, because the others hid things as well as he did, was that he couldn't fit in, that they didn't want him to fit in. Because Ken was blonde and light and airy and oh so childlike. And Ken was still able to laugh, even as he bled, even as he killed. Because somewhere in Ken there was a piece that was still alive. Maybe that's why the other two would stroke his hair at points, hands dipping into the blonde as the sun bleached it nearly white. Because Ken was light, Ken was soft, and Ken was alive.