"Look at how a candle can both defy and define the darkness."

-Anne Frank

Chapter 3

"Mother, can you please let me hit the shit out of that boy?"

"No. As much as I want to either, that boy is the son of the President of US."

"Then, can I just slap him? Just once. I promise, once is enough."

"I told you, no."

I fumed as I glare at the fucking boy. Why do I hate that boy? That's because that boy is a spoiled brat. A fucking brat, ladies and gentlemen. He's only been here for 15 minutes and he already destroyed half of our things! I wouldn't be mad if he's just a bloody idiot running around the mansion and UNintentionally destroying things! But goddamn it! This boy's doing it on purpose! Sending occasional smirks to me, I would really beat the living daylights out of that spoiled shit. If only my mother permitted me to do it...

The boy, who is maybe five or six year old, will examine things around the house. If he thought that a certain object is "price-y", or whatever he called it, he stumbles in it, making it fall. Then voila! You have that "price-y" things multiplied on the floor.

HE'S ALSO TEASING ME ABOUT MY NAME. HELL, I NAMED MYSELF YOU FUCKER.

"What will you name her?" Reborn asked Lisse, my new mother. 'Very surprised' is a huge understatement when I saw a real, living Reborn! character. However, at the moment, I would rather cry because of how sharp the air currently is.

"Potato, maybe?" she suggested.

I almost choked at the name. SERIOUSLY? Good thing I recovered quickly. Never in my life will I be named Potato.

Reborn deadpanned, clearly noticing how that name can ruin my life. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"Dead serious."

"Would you like me to call her father and ask what he want to name her?" Reborn' s voice full of threat.

Father?

Now that you mention it, where is my father? And why is he not present in here?

"That's not a funny joke Reborn."

"I am well aware, so name her already, something decent."

There was silence.

"He's dead Reborn. He died."

The atmosphere seemed to be heavier. The weight of the news astounded me.

I tried to laugh, but even if it came from a baby, it sounded miserable. Then tears started to flow from my puffy cheeks.

Even in this life God? Even in this life?

"I'll name her-"

"Mi-minerva," I tried to say in the middle of choking sounds. But when I heard my voice, it sounded more like I'm trying on a new mouthwash that was given as a freebie in a convenience store.

"She talked!"

"No Lisse. You're being delusional, let's get this over with."

No, Reborn. I talked. I did. I so fucking did. Even though it sounded like "We wuv 'ya", it's totally my name.

"SHE DID! I HEARD HER! I'M NO- Oh. I guess it's a motherly thing."

"What will you name her?" Reborn asked Lisse with finality.

"Minerva. Minerva Phalanx. And I chose that name because it came from her Reborn."

"Well, well Albert. Don't be too clumsy alright?" His father said which brought me back to my senses, he laughed loudly. What am I doing again?

The US President and his son, a voice inside my head said.

And yes, the US president. Let's continue the talk about real thoughts, shall we? I don't give a fuck about him. Last time I'm aware, the President of US is Barack Obama, not that unknown piece of shit. And even if my conscience says that I should respect him for the sake of world peace, well fuck world peace, my mansion is getting wrecked. I don't give a bloody damn about it anyway.

The brat called 'Albert' laughed. "Oops. Sorry papa. I didn't do it on purpose," he said with a smirk.

This brat must have thought that I couldn't understand English. Because he's been saying insults about my house, about my family, lastly about me, aloud. But this fucking brat might as well have wished that I don't fucking understand English. Because if he fucking die in front of me, it will fucking soothe my soul, right in the fucking core.

I cramped myself on the huge chair in the receiving room. The chandelie's dim light seemed a little bit depressing. The book I'm reading about mechas suddenly turned boring. My hand gripping it so hard it might as well turn into shreds. I'm trying to read this book here, but I'm so pissed off right now that the only thing that I'm so focused to do is to not to hurt the brat.

What kind of thinking does this man have, anyway? Who the fuck brings their bratty children in a fucking meeting!? A lot of them, sure, but it's not a fucking meeting between two large nations about fucking WORLD PEACE.

My mother secretly rolled her eyes as the brat continued to break more things. The blue sailor polo he's wearing is starting to hurt my eyes. Even his blonde hair is not even exempted in my murderous desires.

Patience. Patience, I thought.

"This house is so big, but it's also so annoying~ Their family was so big, they are all so annoying~ That girl right there is an idiot, she can't understand me~" he sang as he skipped around the house. His steps and song really hurts my ear.

Keep your cool, keep your cool, I said to myself, trying not to break the little patience I have for this brat.

And you know what? I think I'm putting up a good job acting like an angel here. I am a really good actress. I may look like a two year old girl reading a huge book about mechas, that is not obviously for her, note that. Except the edge of the book she is holding is now almost destroyed because of the gripping.

I don't know why that brat thought I could not understand English. Maybe his parents stereotyped us? How idiotic can they get?

Mother began to continue the conversation, I stared angelically at the two American before us. I being beside my mother isn't much help either. I can see that she's hiding her temper too. But I can't stop her, I badly want to beat them up too.

Stupid peace relations.

These people are just adding fuel to the fire, thinking that we're no match against them. So they deliberately do this, because they think that we are weak.

So maybe they should just burn the mafia, they are all geniuses right? They are all so powerful we can't fight back right? They think so lowly of us right?

But I will fucking burn them with us if they even thought about it. Burning flesh and screams of pain in the middle of suffocating smoke? Now we have a beautiful thought right there.

"We recently bought fifteen advanced fighting jets in the market," the president boasted.

My mother nodded. "I heard-"

She was interrupted by a loud crash and ripping sound behind us. I looked back, expecting that brat Albert made a real mess behind us. I glanced at my mother as she checked out the mess. Her expression suddenly changed. Her eye brows furrowed and her forehead creased.

"Albert, what did you do?" The president said, the joy in his voice is what you can't really miss. What kind of a leader are you if you can't even conceal your hidden emotions? Even Naruto can do better than you, jerk, and he's a freaking fictional character."I'm really sorry for what Albert did, he's just a clumsy boy." Yeah, so clumsy I wish he'd trip over some stairs due to his clumsiness someday.

Now, what did that piece of shit do?

When I turned to look at the boy, what I saw was a large portrait of grandpa, drawn and painted by grandma, ripped right in the middle. In the center of the mess, is Albert, grinning from ear to ear.

"Mother, can I do it now?" I asked her, anger overpowering me.

Apparently, that portrait, is the last fucking straw. I'm gonna send this piece of shit to hell.

"Yes you can, dear. With all your heart," she said then slowly smirked.

I grimaced as I raised imaginary long sleeves on my arms. "You don't need to remind me mother, I will do it with all my heart," I dropped the book from where I was sitting, then slowly stood up, a devil's grin on my face. "And all my soul," I continued, excitement pumping in my veins.

I slowly walked up to the boy, all my glares with much intensity. The grin on my face not fading because of the adrenaline. "How are you brat?" My voice clear and audible from the silence.

My English was so flawless I thought I'm back home. He stares at me wide-eyed because of fear, since he realized that can understand him.

"What are you going to do with my son?!" The voice of the president echoed inside the receiving room, his voice full of panic that made me want to continue this torturing further.

I saw Albert sigh in relief. He must be thinking he is saved. Idiot.

I laughed maniacally, a memory playing in my mind.

"What the hell," I somewhat uttered calmly, which amazed the hell out of me.

"Stop spacing out Minerva," Reborn said as a huge stone fell over my head. I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to scream at him.

He sat coolly on a huge root of a gigantic tree, watching me as I struggle to save the tons of books he purposely dropped in here. Its been three days since that guy decided to hike in here. With my books. I swear to god I'll get even with him someday.

"You're too slow Minerva," he told me, unfazed by the strong breeze.

I scoffed, "Yeah, yeah. I'm currently dying because of exhaustion, if you're not aware. Not to mention," I emphasized. "I'm fucking hungry too."

Then my stomach growled as if on cue. Bloody hell, am I on a gag manga or something?

Bloody shit I forgot, I'm literally inside a manga.

"What did I tell you about cursing idiot Minerva?" He threatened, his voice full of venom.

"What did the adults say about bullying someone not even a half of your age? Anyway, I'm currently deaf for the mean time. So I can't hear you~" I sang as his expression did not change.

Good thing I was prepared for his kicks. And what "prepare" means to me, is the knowledge that he is soooooooo totally and extremely pissed off right now. Do I regret it? Fuck no. I love to ruin his life as much as he want to ruin mine.

"Wha-" I was interrupted as he appeared beside me, hands in his pocket and his usual fedora on his head. He kicked me in the side as he smirked.

"What. The. Fucking. Hell," I emphasized as the books I carry at my back and myself came happy rolling on the wet terrain.

This is the bloody reason why I hate slopes.

"Let me kill him Kamisama," I spat as I tried the only Japanese word I know other than arigato, shine, jane and konnichiwa. I huffed as I gave the hitman a glare.

Do I hate him you ask?

I believe 'loathe' is the best word to describe my feelings right now.

"Mother, can you please occupy the President of the United States for a bit? We can't let him get bored."

I heard a laugh from my mother. "Of course I know that. We don't want to be rude hosts, do we?"

"W-WHAT ARE YOU-"

Then I heard something falling. Mother must have made the president lose his consciousness. A loud thud, and a shriek coming from Albert. That's all I need to know before I make his life a living hell.

Reborn sat quietly as he read his newly printed newspaper. A cup of hot coffee waiting to be sipped is on the table.

"Why have you visited me in Japan, Reborn?"

"I'm checking on something Ninth."

"And what is it?" The Ninth Vongola Boss asked as he sat on the opposite side of the hitman, his black tuxedo gleaming even under the shade of the sun.

Reborn was silent for a moment, then answered. "It's Lisse's husband."

Nono's eyes studied the movements of the man in front of him. "And you decided to visit me while I'm on a vacation for the information you assumed I know?"

Reborn stared at the headline of the newspaper a little longer.

"It's a nice weather isn't it?"

"Ninth," Reborn called.

Nono only sighed. "You have promising talent, you're only in your twenties and with every mission you take, you're one step higher on being the best hitman."

"Ninth," Reborn repeated. "Please tell me where is he?"

"Go to Australia. That's where Lisse's mother started everything. I cannot tell you Reborn. You must find out by yourself."

I stared at my white long hair, it reached my waist. If you're asking why the hell do a two year old have that long hair, don't ask me. I don't even know, for all I know it must be about my DNA getting messed up.

Well on that part, maybe my DNA is actually messed up. Mother said I have a mutation in my genes called Alexandria's Genesis. Alexandria's Genesis or violet eyes is considered a genetic mutation that causes the eyes to turn from blue or gray to purple for around the following six months after they have been born. Well, I already have violet eyes at the age of two. Maybe it works different on me. Because during puberty the color is said to deepen to a royal or violet-blue purple and remain this dark purple way, but will not affect my ability to see.

They said that those that have this mutation are said to never grow pubic, facial, body or anal hair excluding that on the top of their head, ears, eyebrows, eyelashes and noses. Some also say that women with this condition are fertile but do not menstruate. I'm not on the point where I should menstruate, so I don't know if it's true.

I sincerely wish it will come true though. The non-menstruating part. Honestly, I don't care that much about the not having hair on certain body parts. But not having the red sea once a month is the fucking bomb. Having a waterfall down there is not cool, bitches.

Additional sources say that this condition can cause a variety of symptoms including shimmering white skin that is immune to burning or tanning. People also claim that those with this mutation can live up to 130-150 years with aging stopping around 50, they do not gain weight and have a good figure no matter how much they eat, rarely digest and are immune to most diseases so they rarely become ill.

Well, all of this is perfectly convenient for me right? I'm perfect. But that's why I'm here; to tell you that almost half of what's written above is bullshit.

First, I don't have shimmering skin though, thank god. Maybe albino-white skin but not a shimmering one. I'm certainly not a vampire to have that. Second, my grandma has the same condition, and yes, that made her beautifu, like drop dead gorgeous But! There's a huge 'but' here, and that's where tables usually turn. She died after a few years after my mother was born. Grandpa said her body was slowly being paralyzed. She can't move anymore. Or even talk. What really killed her was when her heart and lungs simultaneously ceased functioning.

Well, I guess you can't really live long if your genes are tampered or it mutated on it's own. I guess dying at an old age is now crossed out in my bucket list. Or what will be my future bucket list. Do I really need to make list huh?

I studied my face. I'm slightly chubby, on the face. Note: On the face. But I just have the right body for a two year old. My long lashes and purple eyes are so deep, that I can see Adele rolling. Kidding. Not.

But over all, all I can do is to stare right now at my choker. It never fails to amuse me. It's so beautiful it looks like a trap.

"Minerva?"

"What is it Mother?" I replied and stared at the reflection of my door in my mirror. My room is unusually huge. The queen size bed was placed at the upper center of the room. Mahogany and narra furniture decorated my room. Wide red carpet lay below me.

"Your Grandpa is here," she answered.

I groaned. "I thought he's not going home for two weeks? It's been only six days Mother," I sighed.

When I glanced at the mirror, I saw myself fiddling with my choker. I sighed for the second time. I will never really get rid of my habit, wouldn't I?

Bloody Hell. I really won't.

Mother's voice came from the now opened door. She peeked inside and said, "Have you forgotten? We made a ruckus at the receiving room the other day. So get ready for his lecture, alright?"

"Why are you telling me that? Won't you be in there too?"

"I won't my dear," she said as she grimaced. She probably thought some scheme to be excused for my father's lecture. But I know she won't be excempted.

When I think I'm ready to face grandfather's wrath, I grabbed my book, How to Kill a Mockingbird, and hurried to the dining room. Well, I need to be occupied while hearing his lecture.

The dining room was silent that you can only hear the utensils making the 'clank' sound as they hit each other. My book is resting on my lap, ready to be opened once Grandfather started his long tirade, as we eat our breakfast quite peacefully.

"I heard that the US President being unconscious while in here. Can you please explain? Or did I hear wrong?" Grandpa's stern voice was enough to make my breath hitch. I remained my calm composure.

Then as if on cue, a ring sounded that seemed to came from my mother's pocket. She quickly took it out and placed it near her ear.

"Oh? You need me? You really need me? You'll die If I don't save you? How many are you there anyway? 300?! SO YOU'RE ALL GOING TO DIE IF I DON'T SAVE YOU?! I'M ON MY WAY."

I rolled my eyes. That was really obvious, mother. Couldn't you do it in a more realistic way?

"Lisse," Grandpa called.

Mother was hurrying, she was about to stand up when grandpa called her with authority. "Lisse!"

"What do you need Papa? Our men's life is at stake here," she replied.

Grandpa face palmed. It is very funny to watch. "Don't you dare fool me, Lisse. I've sent no man anywhere."

"Aww." And here we can see the future leader of the Phalanx Famiglia, one of the strongest mafia family in Italy.

"And you there my grand daughter."

I innocently smiled as I reply, "What is it grandpa?"

"Why the hell did you torture the President's son?!"

I beamed at him. "It's just a children's quarrel grandpa, don't worry about it."

"A CHILDREN'S QUARREL?! HE BARELY SURVIVED WITH BROKEN RIBS AND BONES!" Grandpa hysterically said, veins popping on his forehead and neck.

Oh. I thought I could get away with that kind of excuse. But he broke his ribs? I'm pretty sure the only thing that I heard "cracking" was his arm. Maybe it's because of the body drop? Or is it because of the scoop throw? Ah, I don't care which, as long as he's hurt. Fucking brat deserved it.

"Did he? But he's way bigger than me. I can't possibly do anything. What do you think happened grandpa?" My eyes shining as I answered.

Well he's really bigger than me, it's one of the reasons why am I pissed off that day. But what really ticked me off is the part where he destroyed grandma's painting. That was so valuable. I could die while staring at it. She's really a great painter. She chooses our family first than anything, that's what grandpa told me.

He really loved grandma. Everytime he tells me stories about her, his eyes sparkle.

Grandpa said I resemble her features. But I hate it because he seemed hurt every time he told me that.

He placed the painting in the receiving room so the guests would see how talented grandma was. It's a shame she died early. Will I die like that too?

I don't know. I don't even know what age do I want to die.

"I give up! I give up!" Grandpa said with both hands up in the air. He quickly stood up and walked in circles.

He's very problematic, isn't he?

"I think I'll die sooner because of stress," he joked as he placed his hands on his hips.

Mother and I both laugh at the same time.

What we really don't know is that only in a few days, the silly joke my grandpa made based on a whim will come true. But at that, he will die while inside a raging fire.

And he will not die alone.

The whole Phalanx Famiglia will be joining him. They will be with him. With Mother.

Except me.

Because I'll be snuggling under a fucking tree, while fate weaves my thread of life.