Day One
23rd January, 2014
"So, you are this girl's guardian?"
The young man seated across the official nodded. The aforementioned girl sat beside him, her hands in her lap. Her eyes flickered toward her guardian for a split second, but otherwise showed no response. A simple coffee table stood between them.
"Alright then. What is her relation to you?"
"She is a distant relative – specifically, my mother's cousin's brother-in-law's stepsister's niece – but I'm referred as a family friend for short."
"I see... how long has she been in your care?"
"Almost two weeks now."
"Is that so? How did you find her so easily, when there wasn't a single trace of her?"
"She turned up at my doorstep one day."
"That's it?"
"Yes. Simple as that."
"Nothing before?"
"I said, she just turned up at my doorstep one day."
"A-ah... understood."
The official cleared his throat as an attempt to calm himself down.
"I suppose we should do what I really came for." He placed his briefcase on the table, opening it and pulling out a few papers.
"It's nothing complicated – you just need to fill out some information about yourself and sign it."
As the young man filled out the forms, the official observed him. He seemed quite young, and it was then he noticed he never asked about his age. However, he was quite certain that he was as young as he looked.
"You are quite young, aren't you? And you have her to take care of." The condescending tone was loud and clear.
"What of it?" If the expression of his face was neutral despite restraining himself before, his eyes were narrowed, and the corner of his mouth twitched downwards in distaste.
"Well, judging by your looks, you're probably fresh out of school. Even though you are inexperienced, you seem confident you can handle being a guardian."
"You seem confident that I can't." By that time, he was already done with the papers.
"Even if you are, you would be busy with jobs, yes? I'm just concerned about the girl's safety while you're busy."
He slammed his hands on the table, abruptly standing up and placing his foot on the table. He leaned down towards the official, who sank in his chair.
"Sir, I'm going to ask you to leave. Frankly, you are being irritating and annoying the hell out of me. If you don't leave within the next few minutes, I won't hesitate to eliminate you like the pest you are."
His intense glare distracted the official from noticing the gun that was suddenly in his hands. Even without the gun, the official was already shaking like a leaf.
The official stuttered what seemed like an apology, but with the way he stumbled over his words, it wasn't certain. He hurriedly placed the papers in his briefcase, and he proceeded to flee the house.
"Tch."
He got his foot off the table, still frowning. That official was seriously getting on his nerves. Any more of that and he really would have strangled that condescending smile off his face. (The gun was a lie.)
"Annoying little..."
The girl was left alone in the living room as the hot-tempered young man stalked out. A slam was heard, and no doubt it was caused by him as he went out of the house.
She drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly and quietly. To put it simply, she was exhausted and somewhat relieved. She hopped off the sofa and went to the kitchen, thinking about many things at once. Things such as what she should do after her guardian became official, what she should do with her life, and what to eat for dinner.
Oh, and to hold her end of their deal.
Approximately an hour ago...
It had been a bad day. No, bad was an understatement. It had been a day full of crap.
Lovino Vargas, also known as Italy Romano, the Southern half of Italy, had first been woken up by a jolt, only to smash his face against something like a wall. The wall was wooden, but damn it was solid. The cramped space he found himself in was not helping it either. From that, he assumed he was contained in a crate. Rather large, for a crate, but still cramped. There was just enough space for him to stand still in one spot.
Just as he was about to resume his little nap (busting himself out proved to be futile), a very sudden jolt akin to a car making a very sharp turn stopped him. And then his face was greeted by the wooden crate. The first time was painful, but the second time was just plain annoying. It was like the crate was mocking him.
Boohoo, poor you, all alone inside a dark, cramped crate that is me. No matter what you do, there is no escaping me.
"Well, fuck you, crate. Fuck you. If... no, when I get out of here, I will crush you into smithereens. Then, I will gather your remains, burn you to ashes, stomp on you, and let the wind scatter you. Wait, never mind that last one. I will bury you in a hole and you will never see the light of day ever again. Never fucking ever."
...
And then he realised he was having a mental argument with a crate. A one-sided mental argument.
That was stupid. The crate was stupid, he decided. He thought of calling it a piece of shit, but discarded it because he didn't want to think he was inside a piece of shit. That would be just plain filthy.
Two interrupted naps later, he felt he was suddenly on stable ground. No vibrations from engines of transportation, no sudden jolts, no getting his face smashes, no nothing. He lightly knocked the side of the crate in front of him. It certainly didn't feel as solid as before.
A knock echoing his certainly was unexpected, which triggered a chain of reactions: he jumped back and hit the side of the crate behind him, knocking back the crate, which sent him and the crate crashing into the ground.
It was very fucking painful, in case you didn't know.
Dammit all. He punched and kicked through the crate repeatedly to escape. However, it took a lot more effort than he thought, and by the time he finally got himself out, he was exhausted. It didn't stop him from kicking and swearing at the damned crate.
Stupid cramped spaces.
A tap on his shoulder stopped him mid-swear.
"What the fuck is it now?"
He turned around, seeing a boyish-looking girl (or was it the other way around?) picking off the small pieces of wood from her clothes. Then he looked at his surroundings. An unfamiliar room... living room, maybe? Definitely inside a house.
Another tap on his shoulder. The girl held something up to him, which had text on it.
[Are you calm now?]
A scowl formed on his face. She typed something else in it.
[Hungry?]
"Che. Yeah, starving."
[What do you want to eat?]
He said the first thing that came to mind.
"Bruschetta."
The girl stared blankly at him for a few seconds before making a curt nod. She walked off, but stopped as if realising she forgot something. She turned around, looking at him.
"What?" he snapped. She beckoned him to follow her. They walked around the house for a few minutes before arriving at the kitchen. His first impression of the kitchen was plain, barren, and blank. Really, he could've designed a better kitchen if he wanted to.
[Bruschetta, right?]
He nodded. She opened the refrigerator, looked inside, and closed it. The same went for a few cabinets. She proceeded to type something up.
[Help yourself. Good luck.]
And then she just up and left the kitchen.
Lovino paid it no mind. Who else could make Italian food other than the personification of (South) Italy himself? His hand reached for the fridge, opening it. It looked so bare he couldn't help but feel sorry. The fridge was pretty large, so... weren't large refrigerators meant to store a large amount of food? Stocked in the fridge was a half-empty bottle of milk, an unopened cup of plain yogurt, a few bottles of water, some lettuce, carrots, one red apple... and tomatoes!
He scooped up all of the tomatoes from the fridge, washed them, and placed them in a bowl. There weren't many, though he could improvise. He picked one up and took a bite from it. Eugh. He narrowed his eyes, chewing the tomato slowly and savouring the taste as much as he could.
Not all that bad, but he had definitely tasted better tomatoes.
After a whole lot of trouble making improvised bruschettas, Lovino could finally sit down near the island with a plate of bruschetta in front of him. He could practically hear the delicious treat calling his name.
"This kitchen is too plain and boring..."
"...lacks ingredients. Can't cook anything like this..."
"...could've chosen better tomatoes..."
As he ate, he muttered all of his complaints. His complaints stopped once he finished eating. That was when he looked up and noticed the girl was sitting across him, making him scowl. Just when he was in a good mood...
Wait... did she hear him say all that? The thought of it made him feel embarrassed for a moment, but he dismissed it. After all, he was just saying what he felt. Nothing wrong with that, he thought.
[I need you to do a favour.]
"Why the hell should I help you? I don't even know who you are!"
[Not important now. Are you willing to help?]
"Give me one good reason I should help you," he challenged. She stared at him with those blank eyes of hers for a moment. He was starting to feel a little unnerved by it.
[I'll buy you whatever kitchen ingredients you want. You pick them out, I'll pay.]
He stopped scowling. What?
[You can re-decorate the kitchen to your heart's content. I'll deal with financial matters.]
She really did hear him? Seriously? He was quiet, wasn't he?
[I'll also buy you an entire crate of tomatoes. Your brand of choice, of course.]
As she was typing, he held up a hand, making her stop.
"Fine. What kind of shit do you want me to do?"
Author's Note
Bruschetta is an antipasto (basically an appetizer) from Italy consisting of grilled bread rubbed with garlic and topped with olive oil, salt and pepper. Variations may include toppings of tomato, vegetables, beans, cured meat or cheese. [Taken from Wikipedia.]
Since it's Romano we're talking about, of course he'd add tomatoes, eheheh.
In case you didn't know, this is a manual-based story. As in, Hetalia Units and all that stuff.
I've always adored manual stories, and I was a little disappointed how the number of regularly updating stories were declining. So I thought, why don't I make my own? It was about time I posted something.
It's already New Year's in my part of the world, so I missed posting it on the Eve by an hour. Oh well. One of my New Year's resolutions is to write a story, post it, and keep going until the end - be it bitter or sweet. Hopefully, it would be sweet enough.
So what are your resolutions? Why not include it in your review while you're at it? Reviews are very much appreciated! [Oh, and please tell me if there's anything off. I'll do my best!]
Happy New Year!
B.