A book in which you, the infamous ability stealer, are the newest member of the Port Mafia and as witty as they come. Being the constant centre of attention, you have managed to catch the eye of the notorious young executive; Chuuya Nakahara, but no...
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A/N - I highly recommend that you press play on the song above and let it run throughout this chapter! ;)
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You slowly opened your vanity drawer—and as you did, a silk red cloth had been revealed the further you had pushed the drawer out. Your [E/C] eyes, rimmed with dark liner and equally as dark shadow, gleamed with wicked excitement as you began to unravel the red cloth; basking in the sheer feeling of the silk beneath your fingertips; your heart racing with unabashed joy at the mere thought of what was soon going to be in your possession.
It had been a while since you had opened this drawer. It had been a while since you had unveiled what was hidden within the depths of this sultry red cloth made of the finest, most exquisite silk, one that you had remembered buying at a stall in the middle of a bustling market place in Tokyo like it was just yesterday. You remembered the woman who had given you this cloth vividly; she was a storyteller, weaving and spinning words into mellifluous tales; every sentence, every word, vowel, consonant, syllable forever engraved into your mind.
She may have been an old woman, but she was certainly not the kind that you had pitied with their old bones and feeble limbs, but rather, the kind who could still run an army kitchen were she given half a chance. You remembered that she was tall and slim, her short grey hair neat and likely styled with old fashioned rollers, the kind that women used to sleep in. Her face was made up with discreet makeup, except her luscious lips that were cherry red. Were she any paler, her mouth would be garish, but against her sun-kissed skin it had looked just right. The most significant detail of all was her neck scarf, patterned with small roses. She told you that whoever's hands this cloth had landed in was sure to meet their soulmate due to a spell that had been cast on every thread that had gone into the making of this cloth by a seventeenth century witch, and of course, since you were a rather naïve little girl, you had stupidly believed her, using all your pocket money to buy it.
However, thinking about it now, maybe she wasn't lying after all...
You weren't one to believe in soulmates and this idea of the one. You weren't one to believe in this silly notion of fate, either—you chose to believe in nothing more than mere coincidences—albeit sometimes, sometimes when you really got to thinking during the darkest and quietest of nights where your mind was on overdrive and your thoughts were louder than bombs that had completely eradicated the quietness of reality, you almost considered the possibility of the one being real.
The one being Chuuya Nakahara.
Shaking your head and breaking yourself out of your thoughts that had wandered to an evocation of your past, you physically had to force yourself to hold back a rather dramatic squeal the very moment your eyes had finally landed on the object you'd been searching for. You wrapped your fingers around the pistol grip and swiftly lifted the gun; somehow, it simultaneously felt as heavy as a panegyric, but as light as a feather. You hadn't held this bad boy in a long time.
