It’s been 200 years.

A Sol Millia fan fiction

By Renoa Heartilly

 

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Author’s notes: there aren’t many Sol Millia fics on FFN. So I thought, what the heck, the more the merrier! I hope you like this one.

Disclaimer: you know, the usual… I don’t own’em, Daisuke Ishiwatari does, I wished I own Sol though…

Is fire seal lickable?

Never mind…

 

Update on the site: FFN is blocked by my internet provider for some unknown reason, I’m sorry ;_; please keep up with the fic here :>

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Sol Badguy walked…             

 

The thirteen belts on his famous outfit clinking as he paced the street. The brown paper bag containing what little groceries he needed held tight in his arm, a single French bread peeking out of the bag.

 

He walked, his well-used shoes making a rhythmic sound on the pavement.

 

Sol wove his way through a crowded corner, arching away from an arguing couple and lifting his bag up from a running kid, he dodged a fleeing teenager and ignored the man that followed after yelling ‘thief’.

 

Two hundred and one years in this life taught him one important thing.

 

Stay out of trouble.

 

The Bounty Hunter sighed softly before rounding another corner, ignoring a man that flew from an alley and smacked his head on the floor with a sickening crack. Another man ran out of the alleyway screaming something like ‘monster’.

 

Another sigh passed through his lips as he stepped over the unconscious guy and continued his way. Another scream erupted from the alleyway behind him, he continued to ignore.

 

“Let’s get out of here man! She’s a freak!” the sound of pained grunts echoed behind him before somebody called his name.

“Sol?”

 

Analyzing voice sample…

Processing….

-Millia Rage,

 Female

 Russian

Risk Rating: C

 

He ignored her.

 

“Sol Badguy? Is that you?” Military boots clinked on the concrete.

 

He continued to walk.

 

“Hey.” Her voice was quiet as she fell into step with his long strides, “Listen.”

“What.” He said quietly, still walking.

She panted a few times, trying to regain her breath, and then she grabbed his arm, “Do you know where Jam Kuradoberi lives?”

Sol tried to ignore the alarms going off in his head and switched the bag to the other arm so that he could face the woman properly, “No.”

Her face fell, and her hair went limp, “Oh… Okay.” Her lips were torn and the gash on her forehead oozed blood down her pretty cheek. She didn’t seem to notice. Her arm fell away and she started walking to the opposite direction, the slant of her shoulders showing disappointment.

 

Notification, female going wrong way.

Kuradoberi restaurant located in 3rd block, china town. Zero hours, seven minutes and fifty five seconds away.

 

A muscle in Sol’s left cheek twitched. Damn…

 

“R… Wrong way, Rage.” God damnit. He turned around only to find an old woman leaning down to look at an unconscious Millia. “Damn…” he decided to ignore and go home, but the old woman called out for him.

 

“Excuse me, son, your girlfriend is out cold!”

163 lbs of muscle and hate knelt down near the blond-haired wonder and he decided what to do after a single glance at her beautiful Russian face.

 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He got up and fixed his paper bag. “Grandma.”  

“Well, could you at least take’er to a hospital?” the woman looked up at him, a surprised look on her wrinkled features. “Men these days…” her innocent attempt to touch the fainted woman only made the blond hair turn into long sharp needles and attack her. “Goodness gracious!”

Sol sighed and looped one masculine arm around Millia before hauling her over his left shoulder, her hair went limp again. “Ma’am.” With that, he made his way through the crowded street.

 

The old woman couldn’t stand up without help after that.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Spanish blind men and white-haired tanned Venoms swam in her head carrying black poles and White beasts… black beasts… white poles and black Billiard balls…

 

Who cares?

 

One eye cracked open into a blue slit. The feel of softness under and around her, and the light that made her head spin only sobered her up.

 

Millia sat up and pushed back the tobacco-smelling blankets. She paddled to the ajar door and pushed it open, her mind was still fogged from being asleep so long.

 

A man was watching a cheesy romantic movie on the old TV, but the sound was so low she couldn’t hear anything properly. The only reason a man would help her was something she didn’t practically like, and her hair agreed by prickling up into needles. She decided she would use the poor man up before she left, she was broke after all.

 

When she rounded the couch and realized the man was asleep, she puffed clumps of limp hair out of her eyes and sat down next to him.

 

Upon the small vibration caused by her presence, Sol opened his eyes and looked at her, not a trace of human sleep in his eyes. “What?”

“Where am I?” she voiced quietly, her voice barely audible.

“My apartment.” Analyzing air particles… 2% extra elements… 1% female 1\2% lemon 1\2% lavender… Damn brain… shut up… “Scram.”

Millia corked and elegant blond brow. “Gee, I feel honored.” She crossed her legs and just then she realized that her legs were bruised. Crappy mob… tore my favorite suit. She thought disgustedly before getting up to a door.

 

She hauled the door open and found a few sets of belts tossed randomly over white pants and red and black shirts. Only a single black pair of pants hung up the rack.

 

She scowled at the offending smell and closed the door, going to another one on the left of it. A mirror and toilet met her eyes before she heard Sol grunt “The exit’s that way.”

 

She hesitated a moment before asking, “Can I wash my face?” her image in the mirror before her was anything but healthy.

“Sure.”

Millia closed the door quietly behind her and wondered how a man –a member of the male specie- kept a bathroom, a bathroom! Clean in such a way. She carefully washed the blood off her face and winced when the water felt too hot on her injury. She dried her face and pressed the tissue to her forehead, the handkerchief soaked red.

 

“Oh no…” she grumbled before opening the door and walking over to Sol. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

“No.” Sol never bothered to look her way; instead he just turned the volume up on a deafening hard-metal tune.

Her lips pressed together in a straight line before she stood next to him. “Do you have Ice, then?”

“Yeah.”

She guessed that he wouldn’t tell her anything more, so she went to the kitchen –the door was open all along- and opened the ice box. A single ice cube lay alone in its container. She sighed and dabbed the coolness to the pain in her forehead. Tension gathered between her brows.

“Move.”

She almost jumped out of her skin at the gruff order. He was standing behind her, barely touching her as he waited for her to move from his way. “What?”

“Move.” He repeated.

“Oh, you want something?” she questioned quietly, the blood-colored ice on her forehead eased the ache and helped her mood.

“Yeah.”

“What could it possibly be?”

His dark eyes showed annoyance, “I’ll get it myself.” With that he nudged her with his shoulder and grabbed a beer.

 

Millia shifted her weight to one foot before watching the tanned man down the whole bottle in a few gulps. “Can I stay here for the night?” her face burned in humiliation when he studied her, his eyes –half hidden under the head protector- were judging. “I don’t have any money.” She explained.  

 

Her hair prickled, damn that Zato, now I have to manage my own savings… 

 

“No.” Sol padded his bare feet back into the living room.

Her brows met, “What? How can you say ‘no’ to a lady?”

Sol looked at her, and then very slowly moved his lips “N.O.”

The blond hair twitched before its commander sat down on the couch. “Fine, I’ll pay you.”

“Whatever.”

“You suck…” she said quietly.

 

‘Please! I want to be with you for the rest of my life! Don’t you understand? I love you!’

 

Sol frowned at the mushy scene before clicking a button on the controller in his hand. “Your hair.”

Millia continued to glare at the screen, “What about it?”

“It’s crawling down my spine.” He stated simply and clicked to another channel.

Her cheeks heated and she braided her hair slowly, the tangles coming loose from the brown strands of Sol’s.

 

After a long pause, Sol finally spoke, “You gotta job?” 

“No.”

“…”

“I’ll get one.” She nodded.

The hunter didn’t seem convinced, but kept quiet anyway.

 

Silence stretched between them again, and Millia’s hair started coming loose from its braid, crawling closer to Sol’s.

 

“Stop that.” He ordered quietly.

“I can’t help it.” Millia pulled her hair closer, “It has a brain of its own.”

Sol sighed softly before turning the TV off, “Can you cook?”

“You’ll have to pay me.” He corked an eyebrow. He’s finally talking!

“To work at Krudberry’s place.”

“Crud?” a muscle in her cheek twitched, “Yeah, I can cook.”

“Get up.” He ordered and pulled his red shoes on.

“Where?” she got up.

“To work!” his voice screeched in annoyance. “Jeez, what’s wrong with you ladies?” he mumbled a few choice cuss words then clutched his Fire seal and made his way to the door, glaring at her.

 

Well, he’s in a bad mood. She thought before making her way after him.

 

End of chapter one.

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