Rachael Hertz & fanfiction: CloudGateau
Katekyo Hitman Reborn: Akira Amano
Pairings: Thinking on it
Cloud: If you're reading this, then you've probably noticed I changed the pairings status. No? Look one or two lines up. I realized that even a romance-oblivious idiot like Rachael would probably feel something in a world with good-looking mafioso.
Amano is quite consistent on producing one cute guy after another, and for that, I salute her. However, don't expect too much because even I don't know what direction this story will head in terms of romance. I'm not too keen on writing a romance story so I'm keeping it to a minimum.
I plan to pair characters as canon-ly as possible. For example, as much as I like the 182769 double-triangle, I don't think any of the three will realistically happen in the series (but I can hope).
So, suggestions are welcome. Between my Rachael and whoever you're willing to toss into the ring or between two other characters, SUGGEST AND REVIEW WITH YOUR DYING WILL!
Oh yes. My Ap exams and finals are coming up, so I probably won't update until summer break. Hopefully, you guys are still interested till then. oAo
Extras: Go to my profile to see my compiled map and images of Leeds and the Royal Armouries Museum. It took me so long to find the exact locations of each site (e.g the hotel, the restaurant, the museum) and to figure out the features of Clarence Dock from a tourist's point-of-view. I also posted links to Fran and Rachael's masks. If you're wondering about Rachael's dress, I made it up so there's no reference. oAo
Warning: Crude jokes and language ahead!
Living in Sin
Chapter 4 .:Welcome to the family:.
As I've said, the first time is always the hardest
"Mmmrh… read author's comments," Rachael slurred into the blanket.
Fran cocked an eyebrow and looked up from Patrick Süskind's, 'Perfume'. Turning to the plane window, he watched the glittering city lights of Leeds, England until the pilot announced they would be landing soon.
Fran prodded Rachael with the corner of his book. She woke bleary eyed, aching, and rumpled. After popping the bones in her neck with a content sigh, Rachael pulled her backrest upright.
"Finally," Rachael grumbled as she rubbed an eye of sleep. "I was prepared to shoot something after watching all those mob movies."
.::.
From the airport, they took a cab to the Holiday Inn Express Hotel which was located beside the Royal Armouries Museum. Fran and Rachael checked into adjoining rooms so they could easily reach one another through the connecting door.
"Right, we still have two days to kill before the Masquerade. What do you want to do?"
Before Fran could answer, the phone rang. Rachael reached over, plucked the receiver up and put it to her ear.
"VOOOIIIIIIIIII!"
"It's Squalo, isn't it?" Fran asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Yeah," Rachael croaked, holding the receiver away from her ear. Bracing herself, she brought the phone back against her head.
"—two better not screw up!"
"Why thank you Squalo. We made the trip safely," Rachael said sardonically.
Squalo grunted and then hung up the phone.
"I don't think he's finished manstrating," Rachael yawned.
"Figures," Fran sniffed. "Well, I'm turning in. We can sight see tomorrow."
"Night then."
After Fran gently shut the door behind him, Rachael lay in bed, trying to drift into sleep.
"Bloody hell," Rachael muttered before clambering out of bed and sitting down in front of the hotel computer monitor.
She browsed around New York Times and YouTube for a while, finding nothing of interest to pass the time. Then, remembering a blog she had once wrote in as a frustrated teen, Rachael navigated to WordPress and logged in.
Smiling, Rachael found that her random ramblings still existed.
Clicking a random entry from her Junior year of high school, Rachael read:
//week long breaks are conspiracies to break students\\
It's spring break for this young, fresh mind and yet, for me, I am far from relaxed. This is no break, it is a conspiracy-hatched by teachers and the government- to crack our spirit and doom us.
The week following break, is ALWAYS the busiest. Those people we call teachers load us with tests, homework and quizzes because it'll be a week before they can begin torturing us again.
We see them, smiling, as we sweat over our desks-our trembling fingers smudging the extra small print- as we hastily bubble our scantrons and circle our answers.
"Using a barometer, how can you measure the height of a building?"
I don't bloody know- tie a measuring tape to it and fling it over the side of building!
Sigh.
Then as we trudge out the doors to another 50 minute session of hell, we hear "Have a wonderful break." Our corners of our mouths twitch, as we know we cannot possibly have a "wonderful break."
Whoever decided spring break was a genius- a sadistic, conniving genius. Placed a month before our aptitude tests, we are forced to spend our one week period of freedom, chained to our textbooks. I mentally sob, at the amount of dates, names, and formulas I have to remember, to even think of scraping a pass on the aptitude exam.
And if we decide No! No! I will not be held down! and we push our review books away from us, like a child refusing her or her broccoli, our teachers-at-home (The Parents), descend upon us like vultures on a dead cow. And depending on where their morals lie, they may nag, and paddle, and (oh dear god) lecture us until we learn that we are never alone.
Then when we trudge back into our classrooms, one week later, we look up to see the smiling faces of our teachers again. And we sigh, and we shake our heads, and take our pencils and papers out.
Rachael chortled. She did not remember being that melodramatic as a teen.
Inspire, Rachael clicked 'New Post' and paused over the keyboard. The corner of her lip curling up in a grimace, she typed.
//always read the fine print\\
As an idiot who forgot to read the fine print on a job ad, I found myself in an exciting, not to mention dangerous new environment. What can I say? Structurally, my new job isn't that much different from my previous job. There are the similar partner-based assignments, the same rules, but most importantly, the same, scary superiors.
The assignments themselves are unsurprisingly risky. Hell, even when I'm not on duty, my workplace is a war-zone. (I live at my workplace so waking up to explosions and blood-curdling screams isn't out of the ordinary.) Most of my co-workers are out to get me (errr, I kind of cheated them out of this job) so I'm basically always on guard. Other than my recent discovery of the 'toys' my co-workers use in their line of work (no sexual relevance, whatsoever), nothing remotely interesting has happened.
I've only met three of my work team and I like two of them. One's a little… let's say he's like a banana while the other's as cool as a cucumber. Ugh… I just noticed both these fruits are phallic in shape.
Banana is eccentric and syrupy but he's been extremely friendly and helpful, and for that I am grateful. Cucumber on the other hand is detached but sharp-mouthed. Other than being newcomers, we are both quite similar.
As for the third colleague I've personally met, to compare him to a fruit or vegetable would be like comparing puppies with Gatling guns. My third co-worker is as high-strung as a menstruating woman with two hyper-active 6 year olds. I can tell this one never shuts up and has caused at least a few dozen incidents of hearing problems. (I think I mistook him for a woman when I first met him too.) The memories of this Perpetually Mercurial Soprano (or P.M.S) aren't pleasant.
And perks! Let us not forget the perks that come with a job! If you work at a store, you get employee discount. If you're a celebrity, you get invited to big parties and events. The one perk that comes with my job? I get to travel a lot. I'm currently on my first trip and other than getting jet-lag and numb-butt on a 2-and-a-half hour flight, it's not too bad.
So far, things aren't looking as bad as I've seen them. But seeing as I've just jinxed it, who knows what I'll encounter along the way.
- R. Hz ("Baudelaire No. 4")
Glancing at the clock, Rachael realized it was 3:28 am and decided to call it quits for the night. She fell asleep with her day-clothes on.
.::.
"Scheiße!"
"What is it?" Fran poked his head into the room.
Rachael gestured hysterically.
"We're going to have to dance at the Masquerade, aren't we?"
"Yeah, so?"
"I can't dance." Rachael wailed, "I'm going to screw up and Squalo's gonna lecture me and mein Gott, I'll probably die, listening to him 'Voiiii.'"
"Well, that is a problem. I hate lectures too," Fran pulled back into his room.
"You aren't worried? Hold on, you can dance, can't you."
Fran did not reply so Rachael strode into his room to find him changing out of his pajamas.
"Ahh! Pedophile!"
"Argh! Naked child!" Rachael yelled, flinging her arms in front of her face.
She then blindly ran towards her room only to hit a wall. Reeling in pain, she fell to her knees, forehead bruised and lip split slightly.
"Liked what you saw?" Fran said with a wry smirk as he kneeled next to her. Head throbbing, Rachael glared at him through her watering eyes.
"Not even an 'I'm sorry'?" she said hoarsely.
"Not to a Pedobear? No."
"Pedobear? The hell's a pedo---no, nevermind. I don't need to know. Anyways, your chesticles are showing fräulein."
Fran yanked his shirt close and began buttoning it. Rachael groggily rose to her feet and waited until he finished.
"Fran, you know how to dance, don't you?"
Her partner sighed.
"Yes."
"Could you teach me?"
Fran didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then, shoulders slumping, he muttered, "Well, better you than that fallen prince."
"Great! Thanks, I owe you."
"I'll keep those words in mind," Fran said wryly. They stood in silence, looking at one another. "What are you doing? Get your shoes."
"Oh, we're practicing now? Okay, okay. Don't give me that look," Rachael flushed as she ran from the room.
Fran pinched his nose, regretting his decision for a brief moment before we went to change into his shoes.
Emerging from her room, Rachael expected to see Fran waiting for her. Instead, a tall man stood with his back to her and Fran, nowhere in sight.
Heart racing, Rachael immediately thought that a rival Family had sent an assassin to eliminate them. Biting back a whimper, Rachael prayed that Fran had only been captured before she silently crept towards the stranger.
Closer. Closer.
The man began to turn and Rachael lunged at him, her police instincts taking over her. Knocking him to the carpeted floor with a loud thud, Rachael locked her knees around his sides and pulled the man's arms behind him.
"Who are you and who sent you?" Rachael growled.
Incredulously, Rachael heard the man sigh in exasperation.
"Rachael you idiot, it's me."
To Rachael's astonishment, the man's body dissolved into smoke, revealing a very annoyed and bruised Fran.
"Get off me," Fran said, his voice slightly muffled,
The flustered woman immediately jumped up and pulled Fran up. He brushed himself off before he strode past her to the middle of the space and cleared his voice. Rachael turned towards him with an incredulous look.
"How the hell did you do that?"
"An illusion," Fran said slowly, crinkling his eyebrows. "How can you not know?"
Rachael sputtered, "How can I not know? How can I not know? You turned into some kind of Benjamin Button… wait, you're not actually some old-fart are you?"
"Baka, Benjamin Button aged backwards. And no, I am not an old-fart."
"Could've fooled me with your personality and all," Rachael muttered under her breath. "But seriously, an illusion? You certainly felt real to me."
Sighing, Fran briefly explained about real illusions and its different types of uses.
"I think I've developed some sort of slasher-theme to my illusions though. I blame my master for his bad influence on me."
"Oh, alright. Thankfully, it's not the weirdest thing I've seen," Rachael mused, scratching the bridge of her nose.
"Rachael," Fran said suddenly, "you do know what box weapons and flames are?"
"I---" Rachael paused. Lussuria had probably mentioned the same 'box weapons' and 'flames.' "No. What are they?"
"You should have fought people using those weapons during your battle royale."
"Oh! Those flaming animal things." After she miraculously survived that ordeal, Rachael had put her encounter with the box-animals out of her mind. "Yeah. But, that was the first time I've ever seen anything like it. Can you explain to me---?"
Even though Fran kept his face completely devoid of emotion, he was completely stunned. From moment he had met Rachael, the illusionist had never felt any aura of resolution about her. He also sensed that she was unconscious of the true nature of the mafia clans and the power they held. 'How on God's name did this woman survive without knowing anything about box-weapons?'
Fran now felt an uneasiness he rarely felt. Her confession to not knowing about the boxes and presumably, the rings had thrown him off. Is she telling the truth or is she pretending? Rachael was either a complete idiot who, on total luck, survived a room full of armed mafioso or someone extremely dangerous and cunning enough to put on this façade to fool those around her.
"Fran?"
The illusionist snapped out of his contemplative reverie and looked at Rachael warily.
With great deliberation, Fran asked her how she had defeated all the other contenders in the battle royale.
"Huh, oh. Um…" Rachael had hoped it would never come to this. Her triumph in the Varia's selection process had been one, enormously, mind-boggling fluke. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise to not tell anyone."
Fran nodded, feeling anxious about the abnormality in her lack of knowledge.
Taking a deep breath, Rachael explained about her dismissal from the Carabinieri and her one month of intense job-searching. She had been desperate enough to answer Lussuria's ad and contend in the ring scramble. Then, with great difficulty and chagrin, Rachael explained how she had 'defeated' the other contestants by hiding and taking out the last man standing.
With every pause in her speech, Fran's circumspection melted into a wordless surprise. Rachael couldn't have possibly been feigning her obliviousness. Fran's training in clairvoyance and lie detection told him that Rachael was completely truthful. Her success up to this point was the result of an enormous amount of luck. It was almost too bizarre to be true.
An awkward silence had fallen between the two after Rachael's story. After a few more seconds of ill-easement, Rachael spoke up.
"Er… so that's my story. You still have to tell me what those flaming animals are."
Grimacing, Fran moved over to the bed, sat down, and gestured at a nearby chair. After Rachael settled down, Fran described the history, the power, and the types of rings, flames, and boxes.
"So, you cast that illusion from mist flames just to mess with me?"
"No Rachael. I'm actually a purple aardvark who enjoys parading around in a suit made of human skin," Fran said, rolling his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, I'm shorter than you by a head. I thought it would be more convenient this way since you're more likely to dance with a grown man."
"Oh, I see now." Rachael was surprised their conversation had actually wound its way back to dancing.
"Oh, I see now? No tearful apology?"
Discomfort pushed aside, the two team members resumed their usual banter.
"Hey, you didn't either and I seriously thought you were in trouble. You should've warned me or something. We're even now."
"Point taken, child-stalker," Fran said with a small smirk. "Let's start, we've wasted enough time." Fran morphed back into a taller version of himself and pulled his hair back into a short ponytail.
He took Rachael's right hand into his and placed his left onto her waist. Fran felt Rachael jolt. "Don't worry; it's not molestation until your partner's hand starts straying from your waist."
"I-I'm ticklish."
"Put your hand onto my shoulder. Good. Now, keep your back straight and your shoulders back. You must hold your frame like this and dance without slouching."
Rachael adjusted her upper torso and Fran nodded.
"You're most likely going to dance to a waltz so I'll teach you the box-step. So first, take a step back with your right."
Rachael moved and her knee collided painfully with his.
"… Your right. Mio Dio. The male leads so you have to follow him. Let's try again."
They both took a step towards the windows.
"Now, with your left, step to your left. Good. Bring your right to your left. Hold your frame. Now step forward with your left--- don't look at your feet ---and your right to your right. And your left to your right. Again."
They repeated the box-step until Rachael could mimic the movements confidently. Fran went on to teach her the Natural and Reverse turns.
"I know you've stepped on me twice now but don't look at your feet."
Left. Right. Turn. Forward and back.
"Hold your frame, you're slouching again."
"Hey Fran?"
"Hm?"
"Where did you learn to dance?"
A beat. "Turin Academy requires at least 2 years of dance lessons upon graduation. It was a toss-up between ballroom and ballet. Use your logic."
Grinning ruefully, Rachael suddenly envisioned Fran in a black leotard and lime-green leg warmers, en pointe and dancing to Swan Lake. Fran raised an eyebrow when Rachael's shoulders began to shake in laughter.
Right. Left. Right. Left. Forward. Sideways. Backwards. Sideways.
"Okay. Now. Alternate the Box-Step with the Natural and Reverse. Six steps Natural, three steps Box, Six Steps Reverse, and three steps Natural until you've mastered it."
Rachael panicked and accidently stepped on his foot again.
"Ouch. Start with your left."
Natural. Box. Reverse. Box. Natural.
"And now, with music." Fran searched YouTube, selected several songs and put them onto a quicklist. He grasped Rachael's hand and waist just as the music started. They danced to orchestral versions of Ravel's La Valse, Franz Lehár'sThe Merry Widow Waltz and Ion Ivanovici's Waves of the Danube.
"Okay, stop. You've got it."
Rachael dropped onto the bed, exhaling deeply. They danced for over an hour and her flats were starting to pinch her toes.
"We'll practice again tonight, and before we leave for the Ball tomorrow," Fran said, picking at his laces. He had resumed his normal form.
"Hey, Fran?
"Yes?"
"Thanks."
"Treat me to breakfast and I'll consider accepting your thank you."
"Alright, alright."
.::.
Located a short distance from the hotel, was the uber-fashionable Italian restaurant, Larocca. The interior was cozily ambient with textured reds, creams and browns. Picture frames depicting classic Italian themes festooned the walls and a gleaming black piano nestled in-between the restaurant and the bar area.
"Bon appetit!"
"Bon appetito."
Seated at one of Larocca's rich mahogany tables, Rachael and Fran were just about to tuck into their meals. Thanks to their rise and morning activities, Rachael and Fran had skipped breakfast and moved onto lunch. Luckily for the waitress serving them, both knew English so they didn't waste time ordering.
Both had ordered Farfalle al salmone, firm butterfly shaped pasta with meaty chunks of salmon served with cherry tomatoes in a rich cream sauce and topped off with a huge slice of fresh smoked salmon. Between them was a roasted suckling pig in a parmesan basket they had ordered on a whim. The waitress chuckled when Rachael called it Spanferkel.
"Ah… so good," Rachael said through a mouthful of pork.
"I honestly find it strange that we're eating Italian food when we just flew from Italy."
"It was either that pizza place, or this. You picked."
They ate in silence for a while until the waitress came by to refill their drinks. Fran sipped his coffee, set the cup down and then turned to look straight at Rachael.
"Other than your training from the Carabinieri, what other skills do you have?"
Rachael stared back. She did have a certain ability that would help tremendously in fights. However, she wasn't sure she wanted to bring it up. In the past, Rachael had abused her ability by using it to accomplish everyday tasks, which consequently drew a lot of unwanted attention. As a child, she had been admired, but then betrayed by her classmates because of her ability.
"I have one, but I haven't used it in a long while," Rachael whispered.
"How come?"
Rachael hesitated. "Let's say that it got me in a lot of trouble."
"This is the underworld. There are always risks everywhere you go when you're a mafioso---"
"Temporary stand in."
"Mafioso tend to ignore those details," Fran said, raising his cup to his lips. "It's better to use everything you've got when your life is constantly in danger. Besides, in the underworld, everyone has some sort of power or ability---like in the D-C Comic and Marvel multi-verse."
Rachael entwined her fingers, rested her chin on them and thought. She was already neck deep in danger as it was so there was no use hiding it anymore. Seeing the point in his words, Rachael leaned towards him.
"I'm a language-user."
Fran blinked. "So am I."
The corner of Rachael's mouth twitched before she looked to the next table which was currently vacant. She then glanced around at the surrounding tables; everybody was preoccupied.
"See that half empty wine glass?" Rachael extended her hand and held it above their table, as if grasping an invisible rod. "Weinglas!"
The glass vanished and appeared in her hand. Rachael set the glass to the side.
"If I intend an object to be moved, I can vocally teleport it," Rachael explained to a genuinely interested Fran.
"Can you teleport?"
"No. There are a lot of rules concerning my power. I'm not sure if I'll ever overcome those rules or if they're set in stone. I don't really plan on trying."
"What sort of rules?"
"Hmm… there is a time limit for one. If the object doesn't belong to me, then it'll automatically go back to its owner in about 5 to 10 minutes. I have to know what the object looks like, and what it is called. I can't summon food, organic matter, organisms or any elements. There's a lot more, but those are the most annoying rules."
"Ah, you're like Zatanna."
"Zatanna? Speaking of which, I never figured you for the comic book type."
"That's where you're wrong. I have a good collection of Batman, Spiderman, Wolverine, Ironman and Superman. I also have manga—"
"Japanese cartoons, right?"
"Correct. Naruto, Bleach, and One Piece are the three most popular. I hope to be like a superhero like Ichigo because he's powerful, but detached and "cool" unlike Naruto and Luffy."
"… I see."
"But as I was saying, you need to use everything to your advantage. Your ability's useful but you'll never survive without knowing how to use box-weapons."
The brunette set her fork down and leaned back.
"How then? I don't even have a box of my own."
"First, let's see if you can even ignite the ring." Fran shifted in his seat. "You have to imagine your resolution as a flame."
"My… resolution?"
Fran glanced about the restaurant before slipping on a ring and sparking a small indigo flame. He then snuck the ring back into his pocket and looked up.
"Usually, people imagine what gives their life purpose. Like protecting your friends and family, or their ultimate goal. Others fuel their flames with hate, retribution, whatever makes them feel the strongest."
Rachael blanched. For as long as she could remember, people told her that she was the most undetermined person they had ever met. As a student, she met the bare minimum and dropped out of college early because of anxiety issues. Afterwards, she worked as a plumber, having learned the basic skills from her father who was quite adept at fixing things. After realizing it could not provide the livelihood she needed, Rachael finished school in Berlin. Though, her experience as a plumber was not a complete failure as it gave her a powerful immune system.
The majority of Rachael's entire life was based on just surviving the day with the least amount of effort. She was not in the least ambitious nor did she care what others think of her lifestyle. Rachael was not the type to seek approval; all she wanted was to live her life without being criticized. This poor combination of nonchalant attitude and aloofness was what made her such a disappointment to her parents. It was only after an encounter with a life-changing experience that made her realized her ingratitude and negligence. However, even after finishing school and getting into the Carabinieri, Rachael was still as laid-back as people came. Rachael was fully aware of it, which was why she highly doubted 'imagining her resolution' would be easy.
Nonetheless, Rachael discreetly put on the ring Lussuria gave her, and stared down at her hand. Nothing was coming to mind. Frowning, Rachael first thought of her family; her mother, father, and two older brothers.
Protect. Protect. Protect.
Unfortunately, she knew that her brothers were more than capable to protect themselves and their parents. After all, they were stronger, smarter, and more successful than her.
Time to move on. What about fortitude? Rachael usually avoided conflict and trouble, but in disadvantageous situations, she didn't like to give in. If she was fighting for her survival, Rachael gritted her teeth and dove in. Focusing on fortitude, Rachael imagined it as flickering flames.
Nothing.
She disregarded focusing on her life's goal as she had none. Rachael tried thinking hateful thoughts. The only thing that came to mind was how Achille had convinced their superiors to fire her. She had wanted to march into his office and break his other ba--- Rachael stopped herself. Anger was not something she wanted to rely on if she were using a weapon. Besides, Rachael's anger never stuck around for long.
"It's fine if you don't get it immediately. Most people usually achieve flames in around 30 hours or so."
"How long did it take you?"
He paused. "10 minutes."
Sighing, Rachael removed the ring and went back to finishing her pasta. By the time desert came around, Rachael had pushed 'box weapons' and 'flames of resolution' out of her head. They shared a slice of tiramisu cake.
Bellies full, Rachael and Fran leaned back in their seats in blissful satisfaction. Or at least until Rachael saw the bill.
"£40?!"
Looking distraught, Rachael glanced at Fran who gazed back at her.
"No."
"Not even---"
"No."
"But---"
"I taught you ballroom for free."
"But I told you two secrets!"
"Ballroom dance lessons are around 15 Euros or more per hour. Since we're practicing two more times, 3 hours in a class comes to 45 Euros which is around 40 pounds. This trade-off is completely fair."
Shoulders slumping in defeat and thinking she could never calculate in her head that quickly, Rachael paid for their two meals.
"£40," she mouthed in aggravation as she and Fran left the restaurant.
"It's just money," Fran said, sniffing.
Rachael sputtered, "Just money?! Just money?! I could've lived off that money for two weeks—maybe more."
Living on a plumber's income had made her extremely parsimonious. Even now with a better job, Rachael always felt a stabbing pain when paying for expensive commodities.
From Larocca, they circled around the building and walked down The Boulevard, Clarence Dock's main shopping street that radiated southbound off Armouries Square. They came into sight of museum entrance and kept walking to the end of the Boulevard. Turning left, they came across the Clarence Dock canal, a strip of water that connected with the River Aires.
"Ah, I just realized there isn't much to do except shop in Leeds."
"Too bad there aren't any of those Buckingham palace guards around. We could've had so much fun annoying them," Rachael said grinning. "I guess we could… talk."
"About what? Our favorite colors?"
"Well, I told you all my interesting stories. Let's hear one from you. For example, what's your master like?"
"Hm… my master is a pervert."
"Ah?"
"He's a sadist and really abusive too."
"Um… and you still train under him?
"Well, he's supposedly some famous criminal who escaped from Vendicare when he was a teen."
"Vendicare? Sounds like a Kindertagesstätte or an old-person home."
"That's kind of true. It's a mafia prison said to be inescapable, or at least until Master broke out."
"That doesn't make him any less dangerous. Aren't you concerned that he's being chased by the feds?"
"No. He got caught again and he's been in there for almost 10 years." They sat down on some steps facing the canal.
"But, wouldn't that make you like, 7 years old when he trained you?"
"I met him when I was 7 and he's trained me for a several years."
"You just said he's been in prison for nearly 10 years."
"Baka, my master is skilled enough to cast illusions from inside his cell.
"Oh, Okay. So what's his name?"
"Rokudo Mukuro. Or just Mukuro"
"He's Japanese?"
"No, Italian."
"…Alright then. So, he's been training you by illusions? What does he do exactly? Possess a doll or is he like a ghost who pops in on you?"
"Well, both. He sometimes possesses people and animals and on more than one occasion, he's caught me off guard in my own bathroom."
"What a…. great master you have."
"Abusive pineapple head," Fran muttered under his breath.
"Oh, tell me about how that fallen prince guy tried to kidnap you."
"What is there more to say? Actually, our loud-mouthed commander showed up first after I deleted his email. I refused his offer---he was making a racket and disturbing our neighbors---and then he sticks his sword through the door and catches me off guard. Then the degenerate prince shows up and throws his knives at me and they tie me up and abduct me."
"Eh? But I saw met at the 'job interview.'"
"I escaped and I had them chase after an illusion of myself."
"They didn't come after you after that?"
"It was a very good illusion."
"But, Squalo didn't seem to recognize you."
"I was disguised the first time. That stupid prince came back however and tried kidnapping me from my bedroom. I had to dive into the Po River to get rid of him."
"And he stopped after that?"
"No. He almost burned down the whole neighborhood before the long-haired commander said something to him, and they left."
"Any reason as to why they gave up?"
"I guess it would've been troublesome to deal with the cops, if they try to smoke me out."
"And you still answered their ad after they tried to abduct you?"
Fran was silent. Looking away from Rachael, he said, "Things at home got annoying."
Now Rachael fell silent. Neither said anything for a long while until Fran spoke up.
"When you said you ran away to the circus, were you running to the circus or were you running away from home?"
Rachael did not answer immediately. "The thing is Fran, I never really ran away to the circus when I was ten."
Fran released his arms from around his legs and leaned back, "I thought so. I noticed your body language was very stiff and when you smiled, it was forced. Your eyes looked to the upper-right instead of upper-left, which means you were making it up."
Rachael gawked. "Daaammn…"
"I know what you were trying to do, but I don't need your pity."
"Sorry. It's just---"
"But you were truly empathetic when you told that story." Fran gazed at her, "So thanks, but no thanks. I don't want you feeling sad on my behalf when it actually doesn't bother me." 'I also don't want you recalling the problems in your own past.'
"Alright. So we're good?"
"After you caught me naked, tackled me, stepped on my toes---"
"And after you scared me out of my wits, caused me to crash into a wall and mocked me for it, and wheedled two secrets out of me ---"
"All in a single day I might add."
"We'd be stupid not to call it 'good'"
(AN: The following information pertaining to this fanfiction is historically/culturally/geographically etc. accurate. Cited from Wikipedia and Google Maps)
1. Perfume by Patrick Süskind: Set in 18th century France, Perfume relates the story of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, "one of the most gifted and abominable personages in an era that knew no lack of gifted and abominable personages".
Born lacking a personal odor (a fact other people find disquieting) but endowed with an incomparable sense of smell, he apprentices himself to a perfumer and becomes obsessed with procuring the perfect scent that will make him fully human. In the process, he creates perfumes—presumably based on pheromones—that powerfully manipulate human emotions, murdering 25 girls to take their scent.
2. Leeds, England: is a city and metropolitan borough in West Yorkshire, England. Leeds is the UK's largest centre for business, legal, and financial services, outside of London.
3. Royal Armouries Museum: is a national museum in Leeds, West Yorkshire, England. I chose this building because it actually hosts a Masquerade Ball in December.
4. Holiday Inn Express Hotel: Located in the Leeds City Centre. I chose this hotel because it was the closest to the Royal Armouries Museum.
5. WordPress: is an open source blog publishing application. The tidbit Rachael read from her 'high school' years is actually a modified version of my own blog entry. _'
6. Gatling gun: is one of the best known early rapid-fire weapons and a forerunner of the modern machine gun.
7. R. Hz: Rachael Hertz. Hz is the abbreviation of Hertz, the SI unit of frequency defined as the number of cycles per second of a periodic phenomenon.
8. Baudelaire No. 4: Rachael is referencing the Baudelaire children from "A Series of Unfortunate Events" by Lemony Snicket. She basically sees herself as the fourth Baudelaire.
9. Scheiße: 'crap' or 'shit' (German)
10. Mein Gott: oh my God (German)
11. Pedobear: The cartoon character "Pedobear" is a renamed version of the 2chan ASCII art character "kuma". In his American incarnation, he is an anthropomorphic bear child predator that is often used within the community to mock contributors showing a sexual interest in under-age girls.
12. Fräulein: German title for a young, unmarried woman.
13. Chesticles: slang for male nipples
14. Baka: idiot (Japanese)
15. Mio Dio: My God (Italian)
16. En Pointe: means "on the tips of the toes" and is part of classical ballet technique, made possible by specially reinforced shoes called pointe shoes or toe shoes.
17. Swan Lake: is a ballet by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. It tells the story of Odette, a princess turned into a swan by an evil sorcerer's curse.
18. Arma dei Carabinieri: the national gendarmerie of Italy, policing both the military and civilian populations. Rachael belonged to the 3rd Carabinieri Battalion "Lombardy" in Milan before she was given the boot.
19. Waltz: is a ballroom and folk dance in 3/4 time, performed primarily in closed position. The Box Step, Natural Turn, and Reverse Turn and combinations of ballroom steps. The version Fran taught Rachael is the International Standard Version.
20. Ravel's La Valse: described as a tribute to the waltz, but is in fact a less sentimental reflection of post-World War I Europe.
21. Franz Lehár's The Merry Widow Waltz: comes from the operetta The Merry Widow – concerning a rich widow, and her countrymen's attempt to keep her money in the principality by finding her the right husband.
22. Ion Ivanovici's Waves of the Danube: one of the most famous Romanian tunes in the world.
23. Larocca: An actual Italian restaurant located in Clarence Lock, Leeds. According to reviews, the food and service is quite good. The interior I described is actually what Larocca looks like and the Farfalle al salmone and suckling pig is also served there. Yum!
24. Bon appetit: Bon appetite (German)
25. Bon appetito: Bon appetite (Italian)
26. In the Varia, one has to know at least 7 languages. I think Fran probably has that covered. Rachael on the other hand, knows three; her native German (dad), Italian (mom) and English (school). In Germany, English (and in many cases, Latin) is required. Rachael knows Latin through her Italian, but she still did poorly in the class.
27. Spanferkel: roasted suckling pig (German)
28. Rachael is referring to Pizza Express, a chain of pizza restaurants based in the United Kingdom.
29. Language-user: or Kotodama tsukai is a person who can summon objects when he or she emphasizes words. Examples of language-users include Kotoha Isone of the manga, Yozakura Quartet, or the characters of the manga, Loveless.
30. Weinglas: wine glass (German)
31. Zatanna: s a fictional character in the DC comics multiverse. She usually casts spells by speaking verbal commands backwards. She has also proven capable on many occasions of casting spells by speaking normally, and, in rarer occasions, the ability to use magic for simple tasks without speaking.
32. Tiramisu Cake: is one of the most popular Italian cakes. It is made of savoiardi (otherwise known as lady finger biscuits) dipped in espresso or strong coffee or rum, layered with a whipped mixture of egg yolks, mascarpone cheese, and sugar, and topped with cocoa.
33. £40 is approximately 45.61€ or $61.56 USD. So expensive for just two people…
34: Clarence Dock: is a shopping and leisure destination in central Leeds, West Yorkshire, England.
35 The River Aires: is a major river in Yorkshire, England.
36: Kindertagesstätte: Child nursery or day care (German).
37: Fran's tale of how he met Squalo and Belphegor is canon. Albeit, I had to change some details to make it work in this fanfic. See Lussuria's Third Street – Fran on the Hitman Reborn LJ.
38: When a person looks up and to the left, this indicates Visually Constructive Imaging. When a person looks up and to the right, this indicates Visually Remembered Images. So whereas looking to the upper right means you're bringing up a memory, looking to the upper left means you're thinking of something new, or in other words, lying.