disclaimer: Katekyō Hitman Reborn! 家庭教師ヒットマンREBORN! doen't belong to me!

1- a shot at living:

"Are you sincere? Are you yourself? Are you as you look? You don't have a mask on your face? You speak what you think? Then you are real, then you are not fake!"
― Mehmet Murat ildan

Life in the end was meaningless;

It held no value, no point and no purpose.

It was pointless; there was no objective, no structure, no light in the end of the tunnel, just darkness, an endless darkness. An everlasting promise of meaning. That if you reach enough checkpoints and got enough medals, you will have a purpose. Pressure of being all and doing it all. A culture of competition and perfection rewarding statues, performance and appearance.

Being nice, good: worth nothing. Making people happy: worth nothing, nada. Esthetic: nada. Reputation: nada. Good school: nada, valedictorian: nada. Having friends: nada.

Everything was a lie in the end. Poisoned sweet lies. False sense of meaningfulness while waiting for the end. Trying to reach the unreachable perfection. Perfection is unattainable therefore; nothing really matters. Being at the top isn't happiness, hiding behind a "false-self" isn't happiness.

"in a world of lies and half-truth, nothing really matters."

Life was meaningless and in the end, everyone get lost.

Melody Hope Payton was lost too.

She was 21 years old, a med student, from a respectable family, third child to a CEO, never stepped a toe out of line, never drunk, never smoke, never got high, never missed a single day of school, never skipped, never went to a college party and never dated. She followed every rules her control freak parents laid for her, she adorned the perfect mask and met every expectation.

She did ballet and gymnastic when she wanted kendo.

Learned piano instead of the guitar she longed for.

Stopped art lessons for school committee.

Did med school when she hated biology with a passion, she was a math person after all.

Read med books instead of the novels she wished to read.

Stopped hanging with friend for the sake of cram school and studying.

Watched her crush fall in love with someone else.

She smiled when needed, laughed when required.

She was the perfect child.

Her family was the perfect modern family.

Her father was a narcissistic bastard who thought that everyone should bow down to him.

Her mother was the picture of trophy wife; broken dreams and plastic smiles.

Her oldest brother was her father's shadow; too busy walking his father's steps to care about anything else.

Her other brother escaped at his first chance without a glance back, enlisting in the army, never to be seen again.

Her younger sister was a spoiled brat, she was the youngest so she has to be the artist, her plan was fluid, uncertain, ready to be molted in any form she wished.

Everything was perfect.

Everything went unperturbed.

Everything went as planned.

And when everything got too much, she bleed it out. With every drop of bad blood, she got better until it got too much again. She painted the world red with her despair; transfixed with the scarlet drops.

She hated her too wide smiles, her fake throaty laughs, too out place, too pained, too hollow, too desperate.

Weak. she was weak. BROKEN, PATHETIC, HELPLESS, HOPELESS, USELESS, WORTHLESS and LOST. SO…SO LOST.

Most days she was hollow, an empty shell.

Other days she was angry, just angry; sometimes at herself, her useless pathetic self; other times at her parents, her friends for giving up on her or at life for it unfairness.

Resentment and bitterness were a daily medicine.

Until it was no more. Until she was no more

One night, a winter night, a cold night; while walking thorough the city; her steps clicking against the concrete. Some young driver lost control over their car.

Broken bones and squished organs.

Painful but quick.

And abrupt end.

Melody was still lost though.

She lived a meaningless life and had a meaningless death.

Melody hope Payton was me.

It used to be me.

I played the game, followed the rules and it still went game-over on me.

No meaningful death, no selfless act or altruistic sacrifice; just some idiot's mistake and BAM my life value went back to zero. It wasn't even my fucking mistake. I followed all the rules and still lost.

I was walking down the street, then horrendous pain followed by the nothingness and then suddenly senses overload; I was once more.

Birth, death, rebirth. An endless circle of joy and loss.

Acceptance is a person's assent to the reality of a situation, recognizing a process or condition without attempting to change it or protest it.

Here's the thing about acceptance. In many cases, we don't have a choice. We can't just reject something; rejecting doesn't change our reality, it just causes more confusion, pain and agony…

I did went through with all the stages.

Betrayel, denial, anger, depression and finally acceptance

I accepted my situation, I don't believe in reincarnation but sadly it was the only fitting explication even though the fact was that I should have forgotten my past life.

Wasn't rebirth all about new beginnings ?

Now the point wasn't "if" I was reincarnated or "why" and "how", I could think about later.

I didn't care. Caring was too much to ask from me. I didn't want to care. Caring was getting hurt. Didn't care where I was, who I was. Didn't care if I was alive or in deliria. Didn't care if I was taken care of or not? Got a family or not?

Thinking was exhausting, thinking led to thousands of "what if's" and "maybe's" which led to all those new possible perspectives, opportunities, chances; and that directed straight to a spark of hope. Hope is dangerous. Hope could be someone only lifeline. Hope could fuel through anything. It could also become despair, shattering someone beyond salvation.

I didn't think. I was exhausted so I just stopped, no matter what happened if push comes to shove I'll just bleed it out. And maybe, just maybe, this time it would be the end, the final.

I just didn't care. Nothing mattered.

Spend a whole year of my baby life in a whirling in gloom and doom.

A year.

It took me a quiet year of just living.

Not knowing.

Not caring

Just living.

Eating, shitting, and sleeping.

Nothing more, nothing less

That was the point, wasn't it? Reborn to a new life.

It took me a year to snap out of it.

Melody's life was meaningless.

Melody's life wasn't hers.

Melody wasn't happy.

Melody was trapped.

NewMe was a blank canvas to be shaped into whatever I so wished.

NewMe's life was mine and mine alone.

NewMe could be free.

NewMe could be happy.

NewMe could have a meaningful life.

NewMe could have memorable death.

NewMe smiled for the first time, a small genuine smile.

freedom will be mine.

Be free or die trying.

She was born on a Friday, novomber 8th;

It was a warm autumn morning, it happened in one of the family proprieties, a mansion in the hills overlooking Fasano, southern Italy, at precisely 10 p.m.

Her soft cries rang through the halls.

She was born.

Celeste mourned her love at night in private.

she didn't talk to him for so long and to be awaken by a call telling her that he wasn't coming here hurt, to be told by a stranger stung.

She dreamed of love, of a soulmate, someone, something to call hers. A protector, a friend, a lover, to stand behind; united against all.

She wanted him to be her light as cheesy as it may seem, always there, always warm. save her from the world. Now she was just cold. He didn't come. The only person she wanted to be in her corner, wasn't really.

She was alone.

The only person she was allowed to claim as hers wasn't really

She looked at the baby in her hands;

What should she do?

He didn't come to his child birth; Had business, he said; Will take a few days, he said.

So, yes it wasn't the first time she claimed to be in labor, or that she was dying for that matter but she missed her love; and if she has to lie, steal and cheat then so be it. It was love.

Everything's fair in love and war.

and he loved her, didn't he? he was her husband, right? her one true love.

It was his legacy, she was his legacy; he would love her, he will.

The baby was his even if she was hers too, it was the proof that they could work, they did make her together, he will love the child, he would love her, she won't haunt the hall in the empty mansion anymore. it was her shot at happiness.

Valentin will love the child, their child, he will love her too

It will be the spark to ignite the passion of their love.

She will be loved, her husband will finaly look at her with something else than contempt

It was a little piece of him. Call her selfish; but she needed her light even if it was a little dim; and if using a baby will make him hers, it was justified.

and with thoughts of love and passion she sang to her baby promises of home and family.

Don Valentin Veleno;

Don of the Veleno familiaga, specialization in hits and production and commercialization of venoms, poisons, various chemicals and oddly enough wine. it was relatively small familiaga who survived through alliance with diverse more powerful ones.

He only came a week later.

Shoulders hunched in exhaustion and face blank but for a two millimeter smile.

he did fall in love with his first born even though it was a girl, even though she had her mother's orchid pink hair.

He never spared his wife a second glance.

He named her Bianchi, she was to be his heiress and was a source of gossip between the servants. she was the perfect heir to the Velono family; She did not smile, did not cry, did not coo and did not babble. She slept the day away, and brood while awake. If it was not for the few times Bianchi screamed to be fed when forgotten ; they thought her mute. She didn't act like her mother, she was a emo baby.

Baby Bianchi laughed for the first time when she was thirteen months old at 1 a.m.

Celeste could remember walking on her cackling in her crib. It wasn't a pleasant memories. Baby laughs should be "cuuuute" and "awwwwwwww" scenes not "creepy" and "eviiiiil!".

After that day, a switch was turned on, from zombie to barely human, she still slept a lot but she did start walking and talking.

She remained quiet though.

She learned reading and writing before the two years mark and started eating away heavy books, the Don was ecstatic over these. His baby was a mini genius. He brought her tutors and bought her toys( read= weapons that no child should have access to)

She was her daddy's girl and mommy's hope and despair.

R&R