Chapter 18
"Did you hear? Reborn's been seen with a woman recently."
"Wait, the Reborn?"
"Yeah!"
"What's so odd about that? He's got a chain of 'em."
"No, no, you don't understand. He's been seen with her often."
"You can't mean..."
"Wow," a young man hummed, lips sealed around a straw as he sucked on a milkshake. He drew back, leaving a purple stain wrapped around the plastic, piercings and chains clinking as he took off his sunglasses. "Senpai's got a proper lady-friend. Oh, I gotta see this!"
The young man paid for his drink and, with the screech of motorcycle wheels, began his course for the borders of Venice.
0 0 0
"So," Amelia cooed, sliding up behind Silvestro as she tried to get a rusted up padlock to cooperate with her. "How'd it go?"
"I told you, it was fine; good. Now could you stop asking?"
"You were off with the fairies all weekend, I want details!"
"I was not 'off with the fairies'!" Silvestro defended, struggling with the absolutely ancient padlock more, trying to get away from Amelia.
"You lie! You kept staring out the window and would sometimes just squeal and attack your weird plush! You scared Ruggine like seven times!"
"You lie!" Silvestro shot back and gave a sharp yank, a crunch sounding from deep inside the rusted metal before the hook came away from the body. The two women blinked down at the broken lock, before Silvestro placed it down and they quietly backed away from it. "Okay fine."
"Yes! Wait, hold on," Amelia giggled, dragging the larger woman over to a large wisteria tree where she sat on a large, uncovered root in the mid-spring shade. She plonked herself down and put her elbows on her knees, face cupped in her hands as she leant forward expectantly. "Now go! Spare no detail!"
"Jeez," Silvestro sighed, rubbing her face. "So...It started a bit rocky," she began, making a vague gesture with her hand. "I mean, there was some good conversation and stuff. We had a few laughs, but now and then we'd hit a wall because of something said or an unwelcome look."
"Uh oh," Amelia murmured, frowning a bit.
"Yeah," Silvestro winced. "It got better, but it got worse first."
"Uh oh."
"So, it was actually on a pretty good note that it all kind of tanked. He had booked us this restaurant that puts on shows, yeah, and the play they were showing that night was...well, it was pretty disgusting. Ableist, racist, and all that 'good stuff'."
Amelia shifted, hearing the outright distaste in the woman's tone. Silvestro's own injuries aside, Amelia remembered then that Silvestro had been places during her time as a UN humanitarian soldier and had probably seen more than enough.
"Oh, Silvy..." she bit her lip. "It looked like it ended well, though. How'd you get it back on track?"
"I didn't really," the mountainous woman admitted, scratching her nape. "I may have snapped at 'Renato' and stormed out of the restaurant. I left my jacket and he ended up following me to return it."
Silvestro shifted her footing and began to walk around a bit, continuing to recap her night.
"We ended up talking and he apologised. I tried to blow the whole thing off and pretend it didn't happen, but he stopped me and properly apologised," when she said this, she smiled a little bit to herself and Amelia started to relax. "Anyway, so the restaurant was a bust but, when we walked around we found a street fair nearby. We spent, I don't even know, three hours just running around there, talking and playing games."
"You stayed there for three hours?" Amelia coughed and Silvestro gave a sheepish laugh.
"Yeah, time just flew by, I guess," she admitted, before glancing up at the tree's foliage overhead, purple wisteria flowers out in full bloom. "We ate sweets and shaved ice, won prizes and got banned from booths for being too competitive. It was fun," Silvestro smiled. "It was really fun."
"And then?" Amelia pressed, her excitement reborn.
"He drove me home and walked me to my door," she hummed, sitting down on the plush, green grass and fallen purple wisteria. "I asked if I'd see him again and he said as soon as I wanted to. And then I..."
Amelia gasped as Silvestro's cheeks flushed a lovely shade of red. The large woman groaned and covered her face before she fell back across the ground, short-cropped hair easily showing how the tips of her ears burnt in embarrassment.
"Silvestro Russ, tell me what you did!" Amelia commanded happily, tugging at the younger woman's arm. "Come on, I can't handle this suspense!"
"I...kissed his cheek," Silvestro admitted, muffled by her hand.
"What? Only his cheek?" Amelia pouted, disappointed.
"What do you mean 'only'!?" The ex-militant boomed, sitting up sharply and turning to her friend who crossed her arms with a huff.
"I thought it'd be more spicy!"
"Amelia!"
Amelia let out a peal of laughter before she reached out and squished the face of her hulking companion, purple wisteria tangled in the Russ' dark hair.
"Oh, you chaste dear. Bless you," she cooed.
"Gwet opff," Silvestro puffed before wriggling her way out of the elder's grasp. "You make me worry for Quinto more every day."
"How dare-!"
"Having fun are we, ladies?"
The two women on the ground snapped around and bit their tongues as the shadow of Valentina loomed over them, her fan tapping against her crossed arms.
"Hi, aunty," Silvestro gulped.
"Silvestro kissed mystery fedora man!" Amelia shouted, pointing at her sacrifice.
"Traitor!"
Valentina's fan clicked shut. "I beg your pardon?"
Silvestro ducked her head under her aunt's glare, fingers plucking at the grass between her crossed legs. She shifted awkwardly before murmuring out, "it was just on the cheek."
There was a loud, scandalised shout which burst from the woman. Silvestro groaned and leant back on her hand, looking up at her aunt who was desperately fanning herself.
"I'm 27 years old, aunty, I can kiss the men I date!"
"Only on the cheek, though," Amelia snickered before squealing as she got bat at. "Assault!"
Silvestro stuck her tongue out at the woman and made a face at her, before turning back to the prima ballerina who stared down at them both.
"...Will you be seeing this man again?" Valentina asked, eyes narrowed over the top of her fan.
Silvestro blinked before she flushed and uttered a soft, "I'd like to, yeah."
"Bring him to dinner."
"What?"
"Bring this man to dinner at my residence. I will assess him myself," Valentina announced.
"I've only been on one date with him!"
Valentina frowned severely but relented, obviously displeased. "You will bring him soon, though."
Silvestro made to argue, but saw the look on her aunt's face and deflated, knowing she'd make no more ground.
"Okay, aunty. I'll bring him over sometime."
"Good," she nodded, before snapping her fan closed. "Now, the break is over. Back to your students, Amelia. And Silvestro, I have an errand for you."
0 0 0
Silvestro scratched her nape as her boots clopped along the cobblestone path, a spare screw clutched tight in her fist.
The bar in the upper studio, Valentina's class of personal proteges, had become loose. Silvestro had taken one look at it and decided that all the screws would need replacing, leading the large woman to make the walk up to the hardware warehouse.
It wasn't too bad of a trip, with Spring warming up the air and leaving the town in a kind of pleasant luke-warm. Silvestro took a long breath, wondering if Quinto was still holed up in his room or if he had finally submitted to wearing a handkerchief over his nose and mouth like some sort of Western outlaw.
Silvestro snorted a bit to herself at the mental image. Then her head snapped up at the almighty screech of tires and the crash of metal.
"Oh shit," the woman cursed as she spun and saw the wreckage of a totalled motorcycle smoking beneath a bent lamppost.
Silvestro half jogged-half sprinted over to the pile of warped metal and hissed when she saw the limbs of a body beneath it.
"Oi, you still with me down there?" She called, and got a soft groan.
Well, they weren't dead.
"I'm going to move the bike," Silvestro warned, before wrapping her hand around a secure part of the machine.
Silvestro needed to get it off properly, and in one motion preferably. The person beneath, who seemed to be a young adult, was well pinned beneath the bike so dragging it off would likely tear them up as well.
The woman released the bike and squatted down, getting the bike to lean against her as she hooked her arm under. She took three measured breaths before grunting as the stood, pushing strength to her legs and strength to her arms-
Arm. Silvestro pushed strength to her arm, trying to balance the machine without a stabiliser.
The woman let out a heave before dropping the mangled bike off to the side. Her arm stung from grazes and hot metal, but she shrugged it off to focus on the softly groaning rider.
She crouched down next to them as they fumbled with their helmet, the tentacle, Kraken-esque pattern and proud purple strip catching the ex-captain's eye for a moment. The rider gave a long breath as they finally pushed off the helmet, a shock of purple making Silvestro blink.
The militant didn't let it bother her though and continued to keep a watchful eye as the boy, probably in his late teens, sagged into the pavement.
"You're moving, at least," she uttered and his eyes shifted to her. "Can you move your feet for me, kid?"
The purple boy nodded and wiggled his toes, shifting his feet around.
"Good job," she grunted before grabbing what looked like the collar of the boy's leather jacket and hoisted him up.
"Uh...oh," the boy uttered, staring with wide eyes down at the free air beneath his feet. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Silvestro nodded. "Now, what the hell was that?! Did you get your license out of a cereal box!?"
"I'm fine, miss!" He laughed, trying to pat down his hair that was riddled with dust and pebbles. "Look, not a scratch! It wasn't even that bad a crash-"
The two turned as a flaming tire rolled past them.
"I don't want to know what you think a 'bad crash' is," she grunted, before lowering the boy to the ground. "You better call someone to get that bike of your towed, I don't think it's going to get you anywhere anytime soon."
"Nah, I can fix it!" he assured, patting himself down and fixing the chains which hung from his ear. "I just need some time!"
Silvestro raised an eyebrow but didn't press and watched as the purple boy heaved his bike and made chase after the wheel that rolled away. He dragged it back and then fished a ratchet spanner out of a side satchel and began reattaching the wheel to the front of the bike.
"Ah, my new paint job!" he whined, petting a nasty scratch that went down the side of the bike's body.
"How often do you do this?" Silvestro huffed, steadying the machine when he began to work one some fiddly part of the engine.
"Oh, all the time!"
"I'm concerned."
"No, no, don't be concerned, ma'am!" he laughed, "I'm a stuntman! It's my living!"
"Oh," Silvestro uttered, watching the youth try and pull something out from where it had been wedged in the engine. "So you're trained to do this without getting injured."
There was a pause before the boy smiled in a certain way. Silvestro narrowed her eyes but decided not to pry.
"Do you have everything you need here? I know a garage not too far away," she offered, looking the bike over with a wince.
"Oh, that might be a good idea, actually," he laughed, "There's a hole in the front tire."
"I think he'll have something," Silvestro nodded before stepping away from the machine as the boy took control of it again. "Just down a couple of blocks, it's in the direction I'm heading anyway."
The young man pushed the bike as he walked beside Silvestro, new Spring foliage dappling the sunshine across the cobblestone paths.
"My name's Skull, miss! What's yours?" Skull grinned wide up at her, the chain on his lip pulling a bit.
"Silvestro," the ex-militant responded before she tilted her head a bit and asked, "'Skull', is that a stage name?"
"Well, yes," the boy admitted, "But it's the only name I've got."
Silvestro paused but didn't say anything further as she gave a short nod. 'Skull' it was then, she supposed.
"Are you local to the area, miss Silvestro?" he asked, eager to keep the conversation going.
"Yes, I live in the area. And you?"
"Nope! I'm just swinging by 'cause I heard one of my friends got a lady friend~!"
"So you've come to pester the poor bastard?" she chuckled roughly, and Skull made a light-hearted squawk of indignation.
"Me? Never! I just wanna wish her luck, 'cause my senpai's a bit of a meanie."
"'Senpai'?" Silvestro echoed, brow scrunching in confusion.
"Ah, it means something like 'senior' in Japanese."
"Oh, are you Japanese?" she asked, trying to see any Asian descendancy in his face.
"Uh, maybe? I dunno, but I toured in Japan for a while and know the language," he shrugged.
Silvestro bit the inside of her cheek in reprimand for bringing his past up twice. She sighed and scratched her nape, before seeing out the corner of her eye Skull smiling dumbly up at her, assuring her that she hadn't dug too deep into any wounds.
"What kind of stunts do you do?"
They turned the corner and the garage came into sight, just a couple doors down from the warehouse Silvestro had originally been after. The scent of petrol and car paint was overpowering and Silvestro scrunched her nose as she ducked her head in the driveway, making sure no one was going to back up into either her or the young boy by her side.
"Oi! Matteo!" She hollered and a man with a smear of grease across his nose came rolling out from under the axle of a car. "I've got a kid here who wrecked his bike, do you think he can borrow some of your tools to get it started again?"
"Huh? Yeah sure," Matteo uttered, sitting upon his board to watch as Skull sheepishly wheeled in his fiery dump of a bike. "...How are you alive?"
"The Grim Reaper hates me," Skull smiled and Silvestro put a hand to her temple in a moment of stress.
"I'm still working right now so I'm going to leave him here," she sighed, before looking down to the purple boy who was already elbow-deep in Matteo's bag of tools and giggling at the array of torx bits. "Try not to die, kid."
"Ah, will do, miss Silvestro! Thank you!" He chirped, and she waved and she glanced at her watch, already running a bit behind schedule.