Belladonna | Sano Manjiro

09 "I'm Going to Be the Top Guy In Toman"

Warning! Slight mention of abuse

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Alessia was born as a sickly child.

She would fall into a fever every change of seasons. Tiny coughing fit that seems to wreck her small body every chance it got. Sometimes, it took her everything just to get up from bed and ignoring the shooting pains that seems to always try crept up her body.

Father had looked at her with disdain and dismissed her presence every time she fell into the older line of sight.

Her childhood is nothing but a hazy blur at this point but she remembers the low whispers that seems to always accompany here back then. "Poor child" whispered one of the maids back then, "destined to die an early death"

(Yet, she outlive her father.)

One of Alessia earliest memory was of a white walled room and a man with white coat and stony face. She doesn't remember how old she is in the memory, all she knows it happened before she moved to Japan. Still living in Italy with Mother, Father, and Brother.

Mother had a grim look on her face as the stony faced doctor informed her that she has a weak immune system since birth. That she will be a frequent visitor to the hospital in the following years.

"Be tough, Alessia" the older woman had whispered. Painted nails gripping her shoulder tightly. "Be tough and survive"

It hurts, the girl thought. Mind numbly registering nails that started digging into the skin of her shoulder. It will leave mark, she thought again, already imagining her nanny worried eyes.

"You are my daughter" Mother said, eyes blazing with something that she can't register. It's not an odd look on Mother. "You have to survive, like me, i know you can do it"

Mother sounds desperate.

(She also looks desperate, frantic even)

After all these years, she doesn't remember much of Mother. Of the woman who left both her and Matteo.

Her memory of the woman is but a hazy blur inside her head. Alessia remembers a woman with dark hair and Japanese descent. Someone with red painted lips as well as nails. Someone who likes to lulls her to sleep with her soft voice.

Though, something that she remembers clearly about her mother is the seldom smile she lets out. Her Mother rarely smiled. Of course there's the smile she usually wore when she met people, but it was paired with pained eyes and clenched teeth. Hands trembling and fingers gripping the glass of wine tightly.

Joy was something she can't link with Mother.

When she was young, Alessia never understood why Mother rarely smile. Why is she not like her classmates mom who laughed heartily and ruffled their children hair with full affection. Why did Mother never console her when she cried, never pat her and brother back with affection.

But as she grows up, more and more aware about their living situation as well as Father violent temper, she understand more or less about Mother predicament. Why the woman with all the luxury at her fingertips never show genuine joy, why a woman with two happy children never express her emotions more.