Hell~o! Im Kitade Death! (hail to those who will recognize me)

So this is my very first story, I wish you will love it as much as i loved writing it

So i dont own anything, only the plot - all credit to Akira Amano - yes

Cinderella

So I'll begin, my usual scowl plastering my features. I'm not the kind of man to cry out. I hardly cry. Well, I do not cry at all. So I thought before I saw that man, the one I used to follow for years, laying down, breath hitching, life slipping slowly from his eyes. That geezer was the man who, long long ago, picked me in the streets and gave me a place to stay, a place where I could say I belonged to. Hell as that could sound fluffy today, but this is true: if that man, the boss of the Bartali family, didn't rescue me that time – eyes dull and limbs numb from the cold; sure I would be five feet underground right now, certainly decomposing like fuck. I don't recall my real parents. Later, people would say I was so ill-treated when I was a child my subconscious locked itself any memory related to my childhood. That was adults' reasoning. When you're shivering in the cold and you haven't eaten a shit for days, you don't give a shitty fuck to all those sweet-talk.

'Voi. Don't fucking leave me alone, damnit, Bartali.' I wanted to scream, but the words stay glued in my sobbing throat – yeah, I, at least, let myself to escape one or two sobs. I just couldn't. Shitty pride to be blamed of. But that was all me: as proud as Lucifer, arrogant, rude and loud like no hell – to sum up, one motherfucking screwed up man. I couldn't help it. Neither back then, nor now. So I only stayed there, clenching my fists until my knuckles became white from anemia. Oh I mean the knuckle of my right hand. years ago, when I was barely fourteen, I got the left one crushed under a truck, while a bunch of idiots from a rival family were trying to sneak out some confidential information. I didn't flinch. Not once. And then I lost my left hand, and the dominant one, in addition to that. I fucking lost my left hand for that dying asshole. And it fucking hurt.

Well, that was everyday life, back then. Memories of my war-like-life discarded in my head, nicely sepia-colored to stick with stereotype. Bullets were heard everywhere. A smell of blood, metal and barrel powder was fluttering above the countless cadavers ling in the mud. Yet, numerous people were still up, fighting against each other. They were so dirty and hideous you couldn't have said who was with whom, but they kept punching, hurting, and killing each other, just like good human-beings. And in that shambles, there I was, running between my opponents, punching and shooting at them so as to kill the most numerous possible and to force my way in the crowd so as to kill the most numerous possible. I myself was injured; I could feel my own blood running from my shoulder to my arm. That sure hurt like a bitch. Nonetheless I kept progressing in my way to the head of the adverse family. It was a time issue before we would win that war. End of the flashback.

The funeral ceremony went by like an old-fashioned song. I don't clearly recall all the events which took place that time. I can hardly remember the shaking shoulders of all of the asshole's followers, the crying wife kneeling in front of the coffin, who kept stroking quietly her nine-year old daughter's beautiful locks. And I was by her side, watching quietly the pitiful scene display in front of my feral eyes. Pitiful scene. Pitiful human beings. Pitiful myself, I mumbled bitterly.

However all of that shitty misery had to be swept away, as we were welcoming few days later our new boss, the late leader's illegitimate son, Andrea Bartali. Don't ask me how did a bastard like him succeeded in becoming one of the most powerful mafias in Sicilia's head; I, myself, was taken aback. Just why on earth did they take an heir from nowhere, out of the blue? That was nonsense; but I didn't complain. The Council had chosen him and as common subordinate I didn't have my word to say.

How was the new boss like? Andrea was a healthy young male, probably the same age as me, with long and curly blond hair, handsome I would say, dressed, in a black high class suit fitting perfectly his alert body; and clever. As I heard later, the late boss had taken care of his education, as if he already knew Andrea would later pick up his business. He was already aware of all of our dealings, enemies and allies, so our organization could immediately resume its business after the mourning. Andrea had also a personal charisma luring anyone to him. He had eloquence, reasoning and an affable face; so in one word, he was a born leader. The Bartali family could stay serene for the next years.

Oh fuck that. I never got to like him. I never got to appreciate that mischievous grin plastered on his marvelous features. I never got to restrain a shiver of disgust when our hands suddenly made contact when I gave him my reports, or when guessing his sheer lustful gaze growing heavier on my back, following me from behind. Neither I got to restrain myself from snapping out when he intimately passed his hand and grabbed a fistful of my long silver mane (yes, please, you can make fun of me: I am a grown up man, and I am wandering all over the place with waist length bright silver hair).

'Don't fucking play with me, scum' I fumed – or rather, yelled, as talking was to me as the same level as shouting for average people – so I roared, baring threateningly my sharp teeth, letting my sword ghosting one inch from his neck's skin.

I forgot to say: I was in the middle of my daily sword training. Scientists miraculously succeeded in grafting a prosthesis hand on my butchered fist, and then stuck on a sword – my one and only passion, the day I lost my dominant hand, for the first time of my life I really wanted to cry for losing my sword. So right after the transplantation I began to train on a daily basis to accustom with my new hand. The ex-boss often told me I would rip myself of overworking. I only laughed and continue my training. That was a habit old of almost fifteen years.

Now is different. Even back then it was different. That shitty Andrea get used watching all of my training session, how many hours I would stay locked up in my special training room (I asked for a separated room from the others for not being disturbed, now look at me), at my great displeasure. But I always kept waving the cutting edge of my sword in the air, much more in an artistic way than a murderous one, and simply ignored him. Until that day.

'Vaffanculo. I am not some filthy bitch you can easily hook to your bed, feccia. So stop fucking annoying me before I fucking hack to pieces all of your limbs one by one and throw it to the dogs outside.'

He giggled.

'Is that the way you used to talk to my late father?' He came closer, pushing softly my sword with one finger. 'You are currently my right hand man, my dear Squalo, consequently, you are not supposed to threaten me like this'

He made a point. That fucktard made of me his right hand man, as I was his father's. But in those days, I took pride in serving him, in serving his family and his ambitions, my ambitions. Yet, those people I once called my comrades fell one after the other, the ones facing our enemies' bullets, the others betraying us. Even the first boss' wife remarried and took her child and every memories of her late husband with her. I finally remained alone, I was left behind. Alone with my pride, alone with my sword and alone with that fucker of Andrea and his fucking hair fetish.

'Che' I escaped from his grip, slapping his hand away. I allow you to have me, shithead. Never forget I would never have followed you for your goddamn eyes, but rightly because you're the old geezer's son. I you weren't, I would've killed you long time ago.'

'But nol potevi. You're the loyal type, Superbi Squalo. ' He mused of my anger. 'You'll never betray your family – and betray me, ever, without going against your credo. I know you more than what you think, and enough to say you'll never have the guts to live my side.'

'Are you nuts? My loyalty has nothing to do with you…'

'I know. I don't expect that much. But you're the loyal type, dear Squalo. Your loyalty and faith to my father and all he had built his entire life, his organization, his family, all for what he sacrificed so much of himself, for what both of you sacrificed until now, your devotion, your trust, your fervor, all of this, Squalo, is the reason why you'll always stay by me; the reason you belong to me now.'

'M'importa assai. This is just shit-talking. You don't own me, and you won't. As long as I live. But in one point, you're right: this family is what I dedicated my life to, so me alive I won't let you do as you please and jeopardize everything me and the ol'man had done…' I bellowed.

'Dear, have you forgotten of who I am? I am your leader, your boss. If I feel like it, I can send all of you guys to a prompt death without you even noticing , my, don't look so angry, I didn't say I would. That would be too unproductive.' He joked. 'Squalo, you know I won't kill you. So a waste of your beauty. But you should seriously consider of your place within the Bartalis, don't forget all of these years you spent fighting day after day, night after night; all the blood, yours and enemies', poured, the lives taken on the battlefield – comrades or not; the sins, the oh-so-numerous sins you've committed on the name of my father. Do you think you can erase those facts? You can't, dear Squalo…' His face was two inches from mine. 'So…'

He kissed me. A dirty, disgusting, infamous and shameful kiss. I didn't stop him, letting him invade and explore nonchalantly the moist cavern of my mouth, playing successively with my immobile tongue and my palate. His hands finally moved to cup at my asscheeks, drawing circles with his thumbs, pulling me even closer into the kiss. The fuck. Like I could stop that motherfucker. He was right from the very start. I didn't surrender to him, I surrendered to my obligations, my responsibilities, my shitty pride. How ironic: my so-proud ass being touched and groped by another man more or less without my authorization. In another case I would have chopped those fucking hands far apart their owner. But that was different. It wasn't weakness – I'll personally cut anyone who would assume that bullshit – that wasn't weakness. But Andrea was right about my loyalty, my trust, my faith in the ol'man, and my fidelity, not to Andrea, of course, but to the Bartalis, to the late boss. I didn't even know how many years I spent working for them, nor I knew anything out of them. The world wasn't and isn't kind to lost children.

Even dead, the old geezer kept crushing an iron hand on my soul. I would stay here, with him, or at least with what we had built together. That was my pride. That was the reason I continue moving forward.

I rebuffed Andrea violently as I was starting to feel really gross. 'Quit it already' I panted.

'Oh-. So this is all I'm going to get today. So sad. Well, I'm looking forward for furthermore, dear Squalo' He purred in my ear. 'It's not you were going anywhere, nor could do anything to harm my life.' He vigorously grabbed my chin with one hand and glared voluptuously right into my silver eyes. 'Remember clearly, Superbi Squalo. You are permitted to breathe only because I decided to. You can scream and shout as much as you please, but only thanks to me, me and nobody else. At each step you make from now, never forget to bless my name, because you are mine, Squalo. All of you, all of your soul and body, your bright silver eyes, your marvelously silky hair, your loud voice, all of you. Never think of escaping from my grip, ever, or I'll make your miserable life a living hell. But, as I said before, I'd rather keeping you alive and with me, so please, behave as I told you and stay aware of your position. Mi raccomando, caro mio cagna Squalo.'

He left the room, before I let a scream of rage, scattering the remainder of my broken pride which were still lingering in the air. That was the loneliest moment in my life, I thought while watching my whole world fall apart and all I could do was to stare blankly.

So thats the first chapter...

Liked it? Hate it? Review!Im writing the second chapter right now, so any CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome!