[center][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/b5081ce650201b9e1127f8536fc972b1/tumblr_nrv361L7zg1uptrqho1_500.png[/img] [sub][b]FANFICTION | KATEKYO HITMAN REBORN!! | MATURE (18+) | [url=http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=34188343]ART CREDIT[/url][/b][/sub][/center] [center][sub]never honor the gods in one breath and take the gods for fools in the next.[/sub][/center] “Oi. Miss Adachi. Wake up. Today is the day.” “I’m awake.” Beauty takes a form in the young woman lying between satin sheets. Neither naked nor clothed, the woman sits up, rolling her shoulders as the blue nightgown that covers the necessities sets itself into place, eventually standing to greet the suited man who entered her room without her permission. “I have been awake. Knock, before entering a woman’s room, will you, Adagio?” The woman in question was beautiful, but only because she was bred to be, and her room in the Italian home was evident of it. Satin sheets covered a goose-feather mattress; hardwood vanity was littered in beauty products, some from various unrequited lovers, and some as personal purchases to keep her high-maintenance appearance in check. “Apologies, Miss Adachi. I’m only following the orders of the Ninth.” “The Ninth?” She looks over her shoulder upon approaching her vanity, pedicured toenails pressed against the bottom of the oaken dresser. “I don’t believe I asked the Ninth for a wakeup call, but thank you, anyways.” With a fluid motion, the pajama-clad young woman took a seat before the mirror, flipping a switch to turn on the lights that encircled the mirror. A bottle of foundation is taken from the dresser, applying some to a sponge and beginning to apply the thin layer of makeup to an already pale face. “Is Harmonia ready?” “Yes, ma’am.” A swatch of cream makeup to cover any blemish. “And are my bags packed?” “Yes, ma’am.” A black brush applies eyeliner of a similar shade to the tops of her eyelids, atop a setting eyeshadow powder. Red outlines black liner, and lipstick of a similar shade is applied to the thin lips of the Asian girl, mimicking a slightly outdated Japanese makeup trend. It was something that the girl would never wear on her own during her stay in Italy, but for her occupation and her place of residence for the next few months, she would have to blend in. She would have to become one with her environment. It wasn’t like she was bad at it, either. She was paid to be a shadow. “And, my uniforms?” She stood, running manicured nails (nothing too long, decorated with a black coat of polish, a silver gem on the top of each thumb) through her short, black, layered hair. “Did you bring them like I asked you to?” “But, of course,” spoke Adagio, a black dress bag in his arms, held out to the young woman. “Inside is your school uniform, as well as a traditional Japanese yukata and a spare seifuku, should anything happen and you need a quick change. According to the Ninth, Italian fashion can easily blend in if you don’t wear anything too outrageous.” With a bit of glee in her eyes, the shadow woman took the bag from her assistant, stepping behind a folded paper wall, unfolding it with one arm and hooking the dress bag atop it. “Thank you very kindly, Adagio. I do appreciate your help. Can you please make sure that Misura has my bags on the plane? I simply cannot wait to get back to work.” Sarcasm dripped from her last sentence like venom off of the fangs of the vipers she was modeled against, and as she stepped from around the paper, outfit completing the Japanese schoolgirl mask she was to wear, she held the dress bag against her chest, sighing. “Remember, Miss Adachi, you’re to confront the Vongola Neo-Primo during your stay in Namimori. You cannot flit around the sidelines like you have been.” The large, Italian man offered his hand to the girl, bringing the back of her hand to his lips as he escorts her out of the lavish bedroom. As he began to take her down the hallways of the Vongola base, free hand tucked behind his back and chest swelled with pride. “I’m aware, Adagio. [i]Mio Dio[/i], it’s almost as if you’re afraid I’m going to be killed.” The girl craned her chin up at the taller of the two, and she arched her brows, waiting for his comment. Right on the money, Adagio’s expression changed to one that looks as if the man had been hit by a truck; his brows furrow and his lips flatten at the girl, silently scolding her. “Miss Adachi, might I remind you that the reason you are here in [i]Italia [/i]now, and not still in Japan, is because you almost [i]were [/i]killed?” Broad chest rose and fell in frustration with his charge, and his jaw sets, looking ahead, as if he did not want to see the smirk that was plastered onto the scarlet lips of the girl now. “It isn’t my fault that the bastard disappeared for that long.” She retorts, lips puckered in glee with her comment, the sound of her heels clicking along the ground silenced by the flats she was to wear with these outfits. The feeling of being short was something that the girl was going to have to get used to; it made her feel weak. Vulnerable. However, it was not the Ninth’s words that play quietly in the back of her mind, but his son’s, the dark and intimidating voice ringing in her ears from her visit to the Varia base. [i]The bigger they are, the harder they fall.[/i] Fun times. “It is your fault that you did not report back to the Ninth during that time, and it is your fault that you happened to piss off some very important people, Miss Adachi.” At her assistant’s statement, the shadow girl froze in her tracks, pulling her arm away from the man’s in distaste, and she crossed her arms as he turns to face her, aware that he had displeased her. “[i]Adagio[/i].” “Yes, Miss Adachi?” “What is my name?” The question was strange, but it was routine for the mistress and her assistant. Whether it was to keep the shade woman’s ego inflated or to calm the nerves of the ever-protective, ever-caring assistant was uncertain, but it successfully did both at both times, bringing a smirk to the lips of the girl and a gentle smile to those of her assistant. “Your name is Adachi Miakis.” “My [i]full [/i]name.” “Your name is Adachi Miakis, [i]Ombra della Vongola,[/i] Mistress of the Shade, and Vongola’s Failsafe.” “That’s what I thought.” She approaches him, manicured hand patting his cheek and scarlet, petal-like lips pressed to his nose. “Now, please stop worrying about me. It’s almost as if you’re in love with me.” “I do love you, albeit in a… special manner. Similar to a sister or a small child.” “And likewise. Except… the other way around. Now, see me off, or I’m going to be late for my assignment.” As Miakis spoke, her assistant pressed some of the flyaway, ebony locks down, pressing a very caring and platonic kiss to her forehead. “Misura and Quasi are on the plane waiting for you. It will be about a twelve hour flight. Thirteen, if the winds are bad. You will be landing in Tokyo. There, a Vongola agent will be picking you up and you will be headed via bullet train to Namimori, where you will converse with the Vongola Neo-Primo, tell him the information you have gathered, and join his inner circle.” Adagio took a moment to adjust the collar of his charge, clearing his throat. “And what is the rule about harming others?” “I will only harm them if they lay hands on me. Or if they say… [i]that [/i]word.” “Now go, [i]bella ombra[/i]. Make your music.” “I will.”