:: Attempt 22 | Bella Ciao (Unedited) ::
"O partigiano, portami via,
O bella, ciao! Bella, ciao! Bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!
O partigiano, portami via,
Ché mi sento di morir.
["Oh partisan, carry me away,
Oh beautiful, goodbye! Beautiful, goodbye! Beautiful, bye, bye, bye!
Oh partisan, carry me away,
For I feel I'm dying."]
- "Bella Ciao"; Italian Revolutionary Song (English translations from https://www.marxists.org/subject/art/music/lyrics/it/bella-ciao.htm; lyrics for chorus added by yours truly.)
x + x
[Location: A certain hotel in Okinawa, Japan.]
She sashays into the room, resembling more of a deadly viper than a real, flesh-and-blood woman. Her smile brightens as he turns to look towards her, acknowledging her presence.
She looks the same as ever - dark hair, equally dark and empty eyes, as well as lips glossed with scarlet lipstick. He looks away soon after, clenching his fingers into a tight fist behind his back. His hands are untied, but he feels bound, shackled in place as she walks closer, fingertips persistently skimming the curve of his cheek even as he turns his head away, avoiding her touch as much as he can.
"What are you doing here, Asuka?" He asks, but he knows it is but a rhetorical question - unneeded to be said, for the answer is all too obvious. And indeed, it is, yet she smiles even more, as though pleased with his curiosity.
It sickens him.
"Can't I see you every once in a while?" She purrs, her hands creeping across his upper back until they come to a rest upon his shoulders, her fingers clasping into a deadly net by the nape of his neck. Sousuke resists the primordial urge to flinch away from her grasp, after everything she's done, but he can't. Not yet, not yet; he's never been privy to her thoughts, but he's certain that displeasing one of his Sector Leaders is a disastrous idea, at the very least.
Especially in his rocky situation of late - he can't upset one of his few supporters, as scarce and far between as they are, currently. It will only tilt the power to their advantage. And that certainly won't do.
"I thought you were preoccupied with the rifts in your Sector," he replies, too stiffly for it to be casual, but she doesn't appear to mind. Rather, it's as if she's thrown caution to the wind ever since she became obsessed with him and now she's grown used to his limited resource of defenses.
Enoshima Asuka merely shifts her weight onto the balls of her stilletoed feet, the added height making her barely on par with the belligerent redhead himself. A few errant strands of her wispy black hair brushes against his jaw, and he stiffens at the touch.
"Oh, Shigure can handle them," she says nonchalantly, loosening her death grip upon the male in order to wave a flippant hand in exaggeration. At the slightest amount of freedom, Sousuke pulls away, distancing himself as much as he can without looking to irritate the female. And yet she still frowns at his course of action, the motion in itself reminding him of a child whose wants aren't satisfied.
But of course - Asuka is altogether more dangerous than some stubborn child.
"As a Sector Leader, you cannot be too lax with the members of your department of choice, Asuka," Sousuke uncrosses his arms, tension rippling through his frame at the reminder that she may pull another of her clingy attacks in the next few seconds if he doesn't escape as soon as he can. "Especially now that there is unrest within the Sibyl--"
She sighs. "You're becoming more and more boring as each day passes, dearest. Honestly, don't you know how to relax?"
He's tempted. Completely and utterly tempted to shout, to let loose all of his frustrations upon her ignorant form - How can I relax when you are breathing down my neck? How can I be free of my burdens when I alone carry the entirety of the problems of the Sibyl and its members upon my shoulders? How can I-- he stops, cutting off that train of thought. He can't go down memory lane right now. He can't.
But he does, all the same.
Two hands clasped, fingers intertwined so there will be no spaces in between. Heads drew low, close together, foreheads touching as cold lips met, sharing a puff of frigid winter air. A smile, a secret passed between two people as their gazes lock, brown meeting azure.
Sousuke turns away, forcing his path through the doorway as the familiar ache makes itself known deep within. He makes his way through the twisting corridors, keeping his head down as he ignores the security guard - who is most likely bribed to keep his silence at the presence of leaders of underground organizations.
He wrenches the car door open, sliding into the driver's seat without pause or break. He's trembling, harsh breaths forcing through his parted lips as he brings the car to life, speeding out of the parking lot.
It's not long before the familiar trail is before him; he stops the automobile, bringing a shaking hand up to rest against his forehead, fingers running through his red hair. He forces himself out of his seat, slamming the door closed as he follows the path.
He doesn't know when he starts to sing, but he does, all the same: the melody flows from his lips almost as easily as if he first memorized it yesterday. Sousuke may have learnt several languages, but there were always a select few which he held close to his heart.
"Una mattina mi son svegliato; O bello, ciao! Bello, ciao! Bello, ciao, ciao, ciao! Una mattina mi son svegliato, E ho trovato l'invasor [1]," whispers, so softly others might not have heard, but he knows he will hear it. He raises his gaze up to the heavens, remembering that starless night.
"O partigiano, portami via; O bello, ciao! Bello, ciao! Bello, ciao, ciao, ciao! O partigiano, portami via; Ché mi sento di morir."
And he knows that he can never forget.
x + x
Her lips purse into a thin, disapproving line, whilst my own curl up into an amused grin. No doubt remembering that one mission she failed.
"Where is Karasuma-san?" I interrupt smoothly before she can even speak, taking note of the wary glimmer in her blue eyes, the way her stance shifts to one of feigned arrogance.
"Why do you want to know?" Jelavic replies, her tone creeping onto the very edges of an annoyed snap. I roll my eyes, about to speak, when a hand latches onto mine. I look up to see familiar evergreen hues set in a wary glance, opposing the still polite smile he keeps on his lips.
"None of your business." Basil responds succinctly, his gaze flitting to mine for a brief moment before he leads me out of the Faculty room, treading through the aged corridors with little to no care at all.
"It was a long time ago," I start, but he cuts me off with an arch of his eyebrow. I sigh, releasing my hand from his grasp. "Okay, fine - it was only about a couple years ago. Build yourself a bridge and get over it."
He still doesn't look impressed, not at all budging from his resolute stand. "A year and a half," he corrects, and I almost, almost bristle at his somewhat condescending tone. "And it is still a big deal."
I shift my weight onto my heels, crossing my arms over my torso. "So what?"
I don't have to look to know that the usual emerald of his eyes have turned into a dark, threatening olive - and I don't. Instead I turn on my heel, stepping out of the cage he's put me in (when did he even do that?), and begin on my way down the hall once again before he can continue to pursue the branch of conversation I've no intentions to hold. Knowing him, he'll find a way to bring it up again - but not in the near future; he'll most likely wait for a few days, until I've 'forgotten' about this short confrontation. In the meantime, it's possible that curiosity will win over this stubborn bastardo I've come to call my parabatai, perhaps enough so he'll come after me in order to see this class where the target is hiding out.
I hear his footsteps right behind me, confirming the fact that he indeed followed after me.
I withhold a smirk, keeping my features composed as he comes to a stop beside me, and I slide open the door to Class 3-E.
The usual chatter silences as we walk in, confused looks gathering in our direction as I lead the way to the front, and almost imperceptibly swipe an Anti-Sensei knife towards one of the octopus's uncountable tentacles in order to get its attention.
"Sensei," I force out the honorific, keeping a blank stare as the target jumps back with a startled exclamation. "I've brought the new student."
The thing nods - or what I assume it is, since it bobbed its bulbuous head up and down. "Excellent work, Hanazono-san!" It beams, waddling its way towards where an astonished Basil stands, taking in the target's inhumane apoearance with a muscle ticking along his jaw; an indication that he's near to laughter.
"Do you mind introducing yourself to the class?"
He seems to collect himself at the query, flashing a bright, disarming grin. "Nice ta' meet ya', Sensei." Basil turns towards the class just as I make my way down the aisle, returning to my seat. I glance up in time to see a brief flash of a frown on his lips, his head tilting slightly in the direction of the annoying, red-haired son of a bitch on my right.
His features even out barely a heartbeat later, though - and if I didn't know him any better, I may have thought that it was merely a trick of the light.
"So..." he clears his throat, mouth upturned in another one of his cheery grins. "Hey, my name's Eren L. Basil; I'm from San Francisco, Cali, recently transeferred into this academy but sorta.. er.." he pauses, his smile taking on a sheepish tinge, "..got into trouble with a certain bastard and got placed into this class. That's about it."
A hand is raised immediately after the brunet's awkward introduction. (Note to self: Tease him about it later.) "Aren't you that guy who punched the Student Council president over a girl?"
I stiffen as their stares, almost like spotlights, shift towards where I'm seated. I keep a stoic facade, pursing my lips at the genuine curiosity in their eyes, but I don't look away. They turn away shortly thereafter, returning their focus to Basil, whose cheeks, if I'm not mistaken, are flushed an almost unnoticeable scarlet. Almost.
(I can see the blue-haired boy - Shiota Nagisa, was it? - writing on a small notebook out of the corner of my eye. It's a likely chance that he noticed it as well.)
"Er.. Well, Aoi and I've been friends for a bit, see--" he begins, but is again rudely cut off as an orange-haired boy from near the front of the class cuts in.
"'Aoi'? You two don't sound like you're just friends, though."
"That's because they're not ordinary students." Heads turn in the direction of the door, where a certain irritating, loudmouthed bitch was standing. She straightens, sashaying towards the front of the room and takes Basil's left hand, tearing the sleeve of his blazer down in one motion.
"They're assassins."
"Mierda [2]." I mutter irritably.
There's a beat before the class explodes into collective chaos, and I'm almost knocked out of my seat as the redheaded boy takes my own left arm, shifting the sleeve up just enough in order to see the briefest flash of the mark on my wrist.
The curve of a black wing, the bent head of a woman cloaked in a hood, as if in prayer.
I jerk my hand out of the boy's grasp, glaring sharply at him as I slam my hands down on my desk.
"Isn't that right, 'Duo'?" Jelavic utters smugly, and I send one of my blades directly at her face, where it leaves a scratch upon her cheek, a trickle of blood marring her once perfect skin, before it slams into the blackboard behind her.
"Por el amor de Díos [3]," I say under my breath, and I stand, the rest of my 'classmates' silenced immediately, and I lock gazes with a chagrined Basil. With another muttered curse, I head to the front, aiming a reproachful glare at my idiotic parabatai, before giving him a well-deserved kick to the shins for not noticing Jelavic's presence earlier and thus preventing this predicament.
I let my gaze wander over the wary stares of our 'classmates'.
"Since you're all so keen to know the truth," I say, crossing my arms beneath my chest, "then I'll clarify all the bullshit you're most likely hoarding in your meager brains right now.
"Uno: As Jelavic" - here I once again stare heatedly at the said blonde - "said, both Basil and I are mercenaries." I pause, spinning one of the Anti-Sensei blades languidly around my finger. "Dos: We are from the underground organization Sibyl, which is evidenced by the marks on our wrists. Trés: The two of us are known collectively as 'Duo', which signifies our high rank. However, we both have our own individual code names - but if you think I'll say them as easily as these three facts I'm bothering to share, you're in for a lot of shit." With that, I slam the knife down, blade first, sinking it into the wood of the teacher's desk, which I had been leaning against.
"¿Entiendes? [4]"
There are some scattered nods of belated understanding, and I let out a sigh of frustration, glaring at the octopus, which apparently had been cowering in the opposite end of the room, tilting my head in a mute expression of, "Get on with it."
With a small, "Nuya..." it waddles to its place in the front of the class, and I move back to my seat, resolutely looking straight ahead amidst the questioning looks.
"S-so.." the target mumbles in a display of nervousness, its beady eyes moving to look at where I am, before landing upon a still motionless Basil. "E-Eren-san, right? Eto.. your seat will be the other open seat next to Karma-kun, then.." It gestures with a wriggling tentacle, and the brunet manages a nod of acknowledgment before he walks down the aisle.
A few students noticeably flinch away when he walks past, settling down only when he sits down in his assigned seat.
I cast an unamused glance at him, half-obscured by the red-haired male seated right next to me. He grins, mercury-gold eyes lit with mischief, and I scowl in annoyance.
Great.
x + x
"..Our cover was blown so easily.." he chuckles sheepishly as we walk side by side, school bags swinging almost in rhythm as we turn another corner.
"Your fault." I reply, shifting my hold upon my bag as I look back at him in barely concealed irritation. He returns the look with a grin, green eyes dancing in amusement. How can he be so calm in this situation?
"Oh c'mon, how is it my fault?" He says, his voice bordering on a playful-sounding whine. "Ya' were the one who antagonized Jelavic in the first place!"
I whirl around at the accusation - playful or no. "Excuse me?" I snap, raising an eyebrow as I lift my chin in haughty indignance. "So blowing the shit out of this mission before it's even properly began actually my fault?"
Basil merely laughs, scratching at his cheek. I huff in irritation, turning away. We are only a few blocks away from the house; no need to prolong this conversation.
He follows after me, chuckling, and a slight whisper escapes his lips, which makes me stop abruptly.
"What did you say?" I demand, turning back to look at him. I don't know if it's the setting sun, its gold, orange and red radiance casting dancing shadows along the pavement, or if it's his natural reaction, but his cheeks are immediately awash with a scarlet hue. Basil averts his gaze and he runs a hand through his hair in a gesture I recognize.
It's one he usually does when he's nervous.
"It's nothing.." he mumbles, and I march towards him, lifting a hand in order to jab an accusatory finger right in the middle of his chest.
"It's not nothing when you try to avoid the topic," I say, narrowing my eyes. He's hiding something, I know it.
As his parabatai, I know him better than anyone.
"I clearly heard you say something," I emphasize again, forcing myself to go on tiptoes to look at him in the eyes. They're dark, a hint of nervousness and trepidation. As if it's not enough, his skin has also colored a very, very obvious salmon pink by now.
"Spit it out already, damn you."
Basil sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and his gaze meets mine.
"Eres más linda cuando ruboriza. [5]"
This time, it's my turn to blush, up to the very roots of my hair. What else can I do but turn tail and run?
And so I do, not at all slowing down until I have the gates bordering the yard of the house clanging shut. I stop, reach up to feel the evident burning sensation which coats my cheeks, and a sigh escapes from my lips.
I turn towards the house, towards the darkening sky up above, and I remember a night so long ago, when everything was still normal, when the future seemed so bright and happy.
"Papá, Mama says you have a better voice than she does!" I say, tugging at the hem of my father's slacks. I hear a soft, almost imperceptible chuckle, and before long my little figure is picked up, cradled lovingly in the strong arms I know so well.
"Did she, now, tesoro mío?" He asks, and I nuzzle closer, holding onto the cloth of his plain cotton shirt. In the distance, I can almost imagine the moonlight shining upon the waves, the crests rolling before they crash onto the shores.
"Sí, Papá!" I agree, lifting my face up to see eyes of the same azure as mine are. Eyes which soon slide halfway shut, glassy as they stare into the far-off horizon; I turn my head, resting in my father's arms, and I see the silhouette of three, unknown objects upon the cliffside.
He heaves a deep, shuddering breath, which I feel through my small palms.
"E se io muoio da partigiano,
O bello, ciao! Bello, ciao! Bello, ciao, ciao, ciao!
E se io muoio da partigiano,
Tu mi devi seppellir.
"Mi seppellire lassù in montagna,
O bello, ciao! Bello, ciao! Bello, ciao, ciao, ciao!
Mi seppellire lassù in montagna,
Sotto l'ombra di un bel fiore."
It had been a starless night, like it is now.
"E le genti che passeranno, O bello ciao! Bello, ciao! Bello, ciao, ciao, ciao! E le genti che passeranno, Mi diranno: 'Che bel fior,'" I sing softly under my breath as I walk up the stairs to the house. "È questo il fiore del partigiano, O bello, ciao! Bello, ciao! Bello, ciao, ciao, ciao..
"È questo il fiore del partigiano, Morto per la libertà..."
And as I look up to the skies, as the last words drift from between my lips, I'm left to wonder for whom my father once sang such a sad farewell for.
- To be continued.
[Word Count: 3,380 (Notes excluded.) Written: December 28th, 2016 - January 6th, 2017.
Author's Corner:
So I'm back after being delayed from wandering about in the Hetalia fandom. To those who know where I might've gotten the inspiration for this from, have a blue cookie. Or a glass tomato - whichever you prefer. ;)]
Translation Notes:
[1] Bella Ciao - This is an Italian folk song I referenced in this chapter, which is one of the many, many songs I love. Sousuke changed the word 'bella' - 'beautiful' - to its masculine form, 'bello', to make it more apt in his.. er.. situation, so to speak. The chorus has been kind of translated by yours truly.
One morning I woke up
Oh beautiful, goodbye! Beautiful, goodbye! Beautiful, bye, bye, bye!
One morning I woke up
And I found the invader
Oh partisan, carry me away,
And if I die as a partisan
Oh beautiful, goodbye! Beautiful, goodbye! Beautiful, bye, bye, bye!
And if I die as a partisan
You have to bury me
But bury me up in the mountain
Oh beautiful, goodbye! Beautiful, goodbye! Beautiful, bye, bye, bye!
But bury me up in the mountain
Under the shadow of a beautiful flower
This is the flower of the partisan,
Who died for freedom.
Now for all the foreign words in this chapter! (Translations from http://www.spanishdict.com/translation)
[2] "Mierda." - Spanish; "Shit."
[3] "Por el amor de Díos," - Spanish; "For the love of God,"
[4] "¿Entiendes?" - Spanish; "Do you understand?" or simply, "Understand?"
[5] "Eres más linda cuando ruboriza." - Spanish; "You're cuter when you blush."