Chapter four and we are so golden. Actually, this one's one of my favorites, so be sure and show it the love it deserves, in my very humble opinion, by making sure to review at the end.
And, please, do enjoy.
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iv. why bianchi is not
Things would have played out decidedly differently, had it been anyone else.
When the doorbell rang she was up to her elbows in dishwater and soap suds, having been scrubbing out her mother's casserole dish along with several other pots and pans that were too big for the dishwasher, and she yelled blindly over her shoulder for the caller to wait a few moments. She dried her arms and peeled off her rubber gloves, and laying them over the edge of the sink, she scurried to open the door.
The first thought to go through her mind was that this girl probably ought to be in school – she quickly dismissed the notion, however, as she noted that the girl, who was leaning casually against the post on their porch, had a sort of ageless ambiguity about her in that although she was clearly very young, she could very well have been in her late teens to mid-twenties. She was also strikingly exotic, with pale skin and sort of burgundy hair, and when she took off her sunglasses her eyes were a muted olive green that told Nana she was not from anywhere around here.
When she spoke it was with no accent, however, except on the stresses in her name, which made Nana vaguely suspect Italian lineage.
After Bianchi straightened up and introduced herself, she asked for Tsuna, and when she was politely informed that Tsuna was at school, she asked for Reborn.
This struck Nana as a little odd – Reborn-kun had been living with them for just shy of a week now and she hadn't even told the neighbors about him yet – but the familiarity with which she referred to him made Nana stop and think for a moment. She hadn't even considered the idea that Reborn-kun might have friends or family that he would talk to on a regular basis, inform them of what he was doing or where he was living, but of course he would. Everyone had to have family or friends somewhere. Reborn-kun's past had simply never come up in the conversation before, and Nana felt slightly foolish at just how little she knew about her newest house-guest.
So, instead of asking her to come back later or telling her that no such person lived at this residence, Nana invited Bianchi inside for a drink and a snack, observing that she was probably hungry and any friend of Reborn's was a friend to the entire Sawada household and please excuse the mess, won't you, dear?
The girl faltered, as though she genuinely hadn't been expecting this response, before sweeping into the house and slipping off her shoes. She followed Nana to the kitchen and took a seat at the table, watching Nana as she scuttled about the kitchen and whipped up a quick batch of agemochi, serving it with a bowl of fruit and a glass of green tea.
She'd only wanted to ask about how the food tasted (Bianchi said it was absolutely divine), but Nana found that after she'd asked the first question they just kept coming – questions like where she was from (Palermo, which was in Sicily, which was part of Italy, which was the one that was sort of shaped like a boot if Nana remembered her geography correctly), how old she was (seventeen, a little younger than Nana had expected), what her plans for the future were (she wanted to open her own restaurant after she completed culinary school, maybe travel the world to learn about the foods of different cultures and pick up different techniques and ingredients, but her father wanted her to go into the family business instead and she was working on a way to combine the two) – even things like where she'd learned Japanese (there was a branch of her father's business chain in Japan) and whether or not her hair was naturally that beautiful burgundy color (yes, yes it was, thank you for asking).
By that time they'd been chatting for almost an hour and had completely demolished the agemochi and the fruit, and as Nana got up to put the dishes in the sink and pour them some more green tea, she asked how Bianchi knew Reborn.
There was a moment of almost-silence, where Nana felt something growing in the absence of words, and she turned around to see what it was, to possibly repeat her question – but then something in Bianchi's eyes caught her attention and she gave the girl a closer look.
It was that shine, that familiar glimmer-sparkle-flash that suddenly made the muted olive of her eyes gleam brilliant emerald and illuminated her entire face with a beautiful youthful glow –
And suddenly Nana knew that Bianchi had come looking for Reborn because she missed him – that Reborn had most likely not even told her where he was going – that she had searched for him, for however long it took, quite possibly weeks, although she must have been prepared to search for longer than even that – searched for him until her trail of information had finally led her here, to the front porch of the Sawada residence. Bianchi had come looking for Reborn because she missed him, and also because she loved him.
After all, Nana was no novice when it came to love, and this was the kind of love that was unconditional and all-consuming – something she could strongly identify with.
All of those things, she could identify with.
When she set the glasses of tea on the table with a soft but distinctive little clank, Bianchi snapped out of her reverie and blushed, very lightly and almost apologetically. Nana only smiled and covered the Italian girl's hand with her own, and Bianchi looked at her as though she was not used to feeling embarrassed.
It was that look, the look Bianchi gave her after the blush started to fade, that made Nana abruptly understand what had driven her to invite the girl into the house, a stranger who had shown up on her doorstep mere hours before – for one moment, one brief elucidated second, Bianchi's eyes were wide and staring and open and innocent and pleading and, of all things, vulnerable.
There was a tattoo on her arm and a confidence in her step, but she could see that Bianchi was broken and lost, a desperate little girl and a woman scorned all at the same time, and she was so, so vulnerable. Vulnerable, and in love.
She thought about offering some empathy and motherly advice, about telling her what she'd seen, what she knew, what she'd been through – telling her how love could lift you up one moment and bring your whole world crashing down around you the next; telling her that women were strong and that she herself would be stronger than she could ever imagine because when love pushed your limits, you stood strong and pushed back; telling her that love would conquer all because Nana herself was living proof. She thought about giving her a hug, telling her it was all right to be broken and scared, holding her hands until the confident façade she wore became her constant reality.
Instead, Nana stood and offered to show her the guest bedroom.
When she received nothing in response but a blank stare, she cheerfully elaborated that since this was also where Reborn would be staying and it would be a lot cheaper than renting a hotel room and she had come such a long way from home and wouldn't it be much nicer to stay with people who would make her a decent meal once in a while and before she had even finished, the vulnerable girl with the open eyes had disappeared behind a dazzling and truly grateful smile, and that was worth every bit of the motherly advice that she had foregone for the present.
Had it been anyone else, things would have played out decidedly differently. As it were, this was one of those times when Nana knew that different cases required different methods of treatment, and Bianchi was, in a way, a decidedly unique case indeed.
Hours later, when Bianchi had gone to check on Reborn-kun and Tsuna at school, Nana mused that maybe Bianchi's case was not so different from anybody else's after all.
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Nana is so fricking awesome.
It also took me a really long time to finish this because for a while, I went on a crazy-rabid Harry Potter kick (who couldn't, what with the movie coming out and everything?) which effectively killed my Reborn! mood for a good three to four weeks. Which made me sad and actually weirdly guilty, because I felt bad that this story was sitting forlornly in my Document Manager all unfinished and alone, but...Harry Potter, y'all. Harry Frickin' Potter. It was a big deal.
And I finished this eventually, didn't I? Well - not so far as you can see, anymore, since I turned it into a fricking chapter fic, but it's done. Believe me.
Speaking of which, how about that excellent research of mine showing up in this chapter?
See, that's the problem. You, as a reader, have no idea how much work I put into this monstrosity. It's my longest work ever. It took a lot of research.
Be appreciative and REVIEW!