Gospel for the Wicked - a different Death Note fiction

I - Accents

"Signorina, is everything alright?" Vincent tried, but both ignored him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I hope you are not hurt...?" he asked with a wide and genuine smile. He was sure these two were tourists, so he addressed the girl in English.

"Should I call the guards, signorina?" the butler continued.

Caterina straightened her back and raised her hand. The meant that Vincent should stop worrying pointlessly and shut up.

"I am alright. I apologize, I... wasn't looking." She made a gesture with her hand as if shooing away some insect bugging her and quickly shook her head with a smile. Caterina looked at him well. There was something familiar about him - not his face, but perhaps his posture. He had something, some detail she couldn't name that reminded her of someone. She instantly noticed his accent, though his English was good.

"I apologize, are you tourists?" The teenager liked to make sure of his assumptions. 'Perhaps' was not a word he frequently used. Also, he had listened to the way the other two were speaking - fast, fluid, almost singing the words together. Speed in speech was characteristic to the five Latin languages, while the fluidity and melodic sound of it narrowed it down to one. They were most likely Italian.

"Not exactly." Much to the butler's displeasure, Caterina seemed to be accepting the company of this random Japanese stranger. The girl lifted her sunglasses on the top of her head. Green eyes stared into brown ones. With an Italian mother and a Chinese-blooded father, her face was at least... interesting. She had the tall cheekbones and thin, straight nose of her mother, but the small forehead and thick brows of her father. Although not as doe-like as her mother's, her eyes were rather wide for an Asian and made her look a bit exotic in the sea of small black eyes. "I guess it's obvious we're not Japanese, isn't it?"

"It was actually the accent." he laughed lightly as the girl chuckled. The teenager noticed her traits immediately and tried to remember the racial stereotypes of the world. Again, he thought of Italy. All the while, Vincent was frowning in impatience. How long was Caterina going to keep allowing her time to a stranger? "So you are not here to visit, then?"

"No. Rather, my father came here with business, so we are most probably going to stay here for at least a year."

Vincent was growing even tenser by the second. His bushy white brows frowned over his nose. Was it safe to give away this kind of information? Wouldn't it have been better to just play along and pretend they were tourists separated from the group?

"I see... Will you be starting school here in Tokyo this fall?"

"Most likely, yes. Hey, um, change of subject. Do you know any good restaurant around here?"

"But, signorina, your mother will be worried-"

"You can leave her a message or call her for me. She'll know not to wait for me." After that, the butler was faced with the hand once more.

The Japanese noticed some indifference when the elder man mentioned her mother. Was she also in Japan? Were her parents still together? She didn't seem so cold when she mentioned her father.

Sighing and frowning, he obeyed. In the meantime, the teenagers, though apparently very different, seemed to be getting along. Her sharpness seemed to be turning a bit dull as she was slowly letting her guard down. Vincent was surprised to hear her laugh as they talked unimportant nothings, like Japanese-Italian stereotypes, food, or pop culture out of which the old man could barely understand anything.

"Maybe I'm being indecent, and I apologize in advance, but is he your grandfather?"

"Stop apologizing every other word." she laughed. "I know it's polite and all, but not where I'm from. It's fine, really."

"I'll try, then." he chuckled.

"He's my butler." After that, she whispered something quickly under her breath which made the both of them laugh. Vincent could not make out any word from the noises he had managed to hear.

"You have a butler! I was convinced that job had disappeared." replied the young man who still needed to give his name. It seemed he could easily avoid whatever was whispered before.

"Not if you can afford it. So, are you from Tokyo?"

"Yes. I was born here and I'm still here, though I aim a little higher."

"Right. I've lived in Milan before, though I liked Florence better. Have you ever traveled abroad?" The teenager shook his head. "It's the only thing that gets me excited anymore. The world is so varied and so beautiful in the strangest ways, it never fails to amaze me. Some people ruin it... But aside from that, traveling is my favorite sport."

"Ruin it?"

"Yes. You know, when you're on vacation and someone steals your cards, or when you're sight-seeing and there are vandals destroying statues or historical buildings. Or when your plane is about to take off and someone gives an alert there might be a terrorist on board. That's scary."

"Has it happened to you?"

"Once. I was ten, but I remember it well."

"I don't doubt it. It's not something you can easily forget..."

"Yea... But enough of sad and scary memories!" she laughed as they entered a Japanese restaurant. "How about you explain the menu for me a little bit? After that, maybe you'll show me around, like you said."

With some smiles and chuckles, they translated the menu into English and ordered. All the while, Vincent has been eyeing the other teenager suspiciously. He stepped out of the restaurant for a few minutes to inform the lady of the house of the recent change of plans. She seemed to be taking it lightly, but as soon as she hang up, the mother began to cry. Her dear Rosa preferred the company of a stranger over that of her own mother.