Akai Ame

t h e r e d r a i n

CONTRACT #9

“BLOOD, SWEAT & BULLETS”

Morning couldn’t have arrived quickly enough for Aia’s liking. After spending the majority of the night keeping a watchful vigil over Akagi’s slumbering form while preparing her gear for Komoji’s assassination, she finally allowed herself to fall into a fitful, dreamless sleep by the girl’s side. And all throughout the remainder of the night, Iiwa-chan’s words kept echoing harshly in Aia’s mind.

Make certain that you leave no witnesses. Any who lay their eyes upon you must die.

Over and over, minute after minute, that was all that she could hear. Those dreaded and horrible words that couldn’t possibly mean what she thought they did. They just couldn’t! Not even her beloved governess could be so cruel as to order the murder of an innocent wife and her children. It was…it was unthinkable! It was just too terrible to believe. And Yumi, the stupid girl and what she had said before her and Aia had parted ways…what was wrong with her? How could she be so cold, so cruel, so…hard?

The words…those thoughts, they were as harrowing to her as the dreams – no, nightmares – she sometimes had. Those horrible images would play themselves over and over in her mind, always the same. They filled her with a sense of loathing and dread. Sleep would be no escape for her. Not tonight. Not this time.

And that was the how and why of Aia sitting up huddled against the headboard of her small bed; arms wrapped around her long legs, chin resting on those pale knees and dark eyes staring into the gloom that surrounded her. To her left, Akagi breathed deeply and peacefully; firmly locked in her slumbering world – free of any worry or fear. Aia envied her. Afterall, how long had it been since she had slept like that? Not since before the previous night with Iiwa-chan. Nightmares were always there to plague her dreaming mind – sometimes mild, most times not. They would never let her go. They would never let her rest. They would haunt her until the end of her life.

Sighing lightly, Aia turned her head and gazed up unworriedly at the gray clock that hung above her door. The morning had arrived. It was almost time for her to set out. With Yumi. A small ball of nervousness settled itself in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t unexpected, but it surprised her nonetheless. With the amount of pressure riding on her shoulders, with the orders that had been given to her and the fact that she would be sharing the hit with Yumi, how could she not be a little nervous?

What am I going to do, she asked herself gloomily. I can’t…I can’t disobey Iiwa-chan. I-I just…I j-just can’t! But what will I do? What can I do? Especially with Yumi there. How can I…how can I please Iiwa-chan and not disobey her orders? W-why…why is it c-coming down to…to me h-having to choose…? Is the life of one woman and her children worth…worth so little? W-which is…is truly more important? Why…why must I choose? WHY MUST I CHOOSE!!!

And as the thick black clock hands ticked meticulously toward a choice she didn’t want to make, Aia placed her forehead calmly against her knees and began to cry while Akagi continued her dreamless slumber.

- o -

Aia crouched silently behind the wall adjacent to the southern entrance to Oda Komoji’s small estate. Stealthily, she peered cautiously around the side; back held firmly against its coarse surface and gloved right hand poised teasingly on the smooth, polished handle of her wakizashi – Chiisai Shi. Across the fragrant and aromatic space that was the back garden, she could see two guards standing in front of the secured engawa exit – both dressed in dark suits with almost invisible earpieces pushed deeply into their right lobes. They both looked more alert than she figured that they would have, especially considering how late the time was and the pending shift change. Moving herself away from the edge of the wall, Aia leaned against the other side of it as she pulled the dark sleeve of her midnight black turtleneck back enough to inspect the thin watch strapped around her wrist.

Ten more minutes, Aia thought out as she pushed the sleeve back over the watch. Then I make my move. Yumi had better do her goddamned job! I want this night to be over as quick as possible. The final words of her governess echoed loudly in her mind again. Aia closed her large brown eyes and tried to shut them out. I…I need to get to that bastard Komoji as quick as I can. I…I can’t let…no, I won’t let anything happen to…to his wife and children! They are innocent! They don’t deserve to suffer because of his stupid mistakes! All I have to do is remain unseen. Stay in the shadows. Be invisible. As long as they don’t see me, they should be safe. And as long as I hurry, Yumi won’t be able to…to do anything but what she’s supposed to do! I will NOT let them die! By Yumi’s hand or any others. Pushing herself to the edge of the wall again, she peered out quickly into the wide garden. The guards were still standing on the veranda in front of the sealed fusuma, shadowed faces scanning the surrounding darkness expectantly. But Aia paid them no mind. They were unimportant. A mere stumbling block meant to slow her down and impede her progress. No, she would do nothing to those foolish men protecting an even bigger fool. Them, she would leave to Yumi.

Shaking away a feeling of disgust and hate that boiled in her belly at the thought of the long-haired girl, Aia moved her eyes upward to a small section of the roof above them. Scanning it, she followed the narrow trail that led from it; a small, barely noticeable path that could be no more than six or seven inches wide that ran the length of the outer wall that surrounded the whole of the backyard and the garden that dominated it. It would have been a simple matter, during the initial infiltration of the estate, to run the length of that path and make her way to the roof where she could enter through a skylight that was no longer being used. It had been sealed away, as Mai-sensei had stated in her final briefing before her and Yumi had left the house, and forgotten. There would only be room enough for one; someone small, lithe and agile enough to squeeze through the small space that still remained in what had been the attic area of the house. From there was where Aia would enter the home of that raping bastard, track him down and murder him. Yet, as easy as it would have been to launch right into that plan, there were complications. Namely, the guards and Oda Komoji’s interior home alarm system – the latter not being too much of an issue, if Yumi had succeeded in doing the first part of her job correctly.

Which was why Aia was now kneeling behind the cover of the small Shinto shrine in her target’s garden, watching and waiting. Pulling away from the edge of the wall yet again, she checked her watch. Three minutes left. Nodding to herself, Aia silently dropped down into a sitting position; careful not to let the sheath of Chiisai Shi scrape against the wall of the shrine. Reaching down quickly, she began to undo the strings of her of black Doc Martins – big and ugly American made boots that where a pretty fair example of what Aia thought of the country they had come from – and slid them off of her feet one at a time. Moving as fast as she could without making any noise, she grabbed first one and then the other and tied them to either side of her waist; securing the boots tightly to her belt with the laces themselves. Afterall, she couldn’t leave behind any evidence that would point the police in her beloved Iiwa-chan’s direction, now could she? Finishing the first part of her task, Aia reached down again and removed her thick gray socks just as swiftly and shoved them into the open tops of the boots at her waist. The night air felt cool against what was exposed of her feet – mainly her toes with everything else wrapped in dark athletic tape. Taking a second or two to flex them out, Aia rose to their tips and pushed back her sleeve again to peer at her watch.

One minute left.

Sliding quietly to the edge of the shrine wall again, she began to gaze around the corner toward the rear entrance to the house of that hated rapist. Her heart was pounding loud and hard in her chest. All she had to do was remain invisible. Stay hidden in the shadows and make it to Komoji without being seen, and his wife and children wouldn’t have to suffer his fate. That was all she had to do. It sounded so simple. But deep down, Aia knew that it would be next to impossible – especially with Yumi here with her. And that thought sent a horrible, foreboding chill running up her spine.

Suddenly, a new sound replaced the peace and quiet of the overly fragrant garden – a sound of subdued violence being committed ruthlessly. Fear again gripped Aia’s heart as sharp suspicions of who was responsible coalesced in her head. Pushing the thoughts wandering around in her mind aside brusquely, she refocused her attention on the back entrance to the house. But when her eyes fell upon the guards, they found something else that she could not believe; something that she didn’t want to believe even though it was what she had suspected all along. There, standing between the two now groaning men sprawled across the wide wooden slats under the narrow roof of the engawa and holding her twin pistols loosely by her side, was Yumi. Beneath her trim, black-clad figure, the two guards were trying to pull themselves up from the flooring. Aia watched in enraptured horror as the long-haired girl raised the silver GLOCK 21 and leveled it at the first dark-suited man’s head. She pulled the trigger without any kind of hesitation shown, or remorse. The brief sound of a silenced bullet escaping from the gun’s chamber and embedding itself in both the man’s head and the wood beneath it touched Aia’s ears disgustingly, but she could not force herself to look away. Within the span of a few seconds, he was limp and dead.

Yumi then turned the gun on the other guard. No pause, no remorse. She pulled the trigger again, and the hot lead from the silenced barrel of the gun tore into the tender flesh and hard bone of the last man’s skull. Aia tried her best not feel nauseated by what she was witnessing. Senseless, utterly senseless – that’s what the murder of those two men had been. Yumi was adept enough at the martial arts to have subdued both of them without so much as batting an eyelash. But instead, she killed the both of them; slaughtered two men like they were animals and nothing more. True, they had been men; and in Aia’s mind, that almost excused what Yumi had just done. But, they weren’t responsible for what had happened to Iiwa-chan – nor Yumi herself. They were just doing their jobs – hired hands of a foolhardy man too cowardly to face the consequences of his forgotten actions. Was there really any need to kill them? Make certain that you leave no witnesses. Any who lay their eyes upon you must die. The cold words of her beloved governess lashed out viciously within her head. They sent dark and deviant thoughts running rampant through her mind. To make her Iiwa-chan happy, to grant her a sense of peace – she had to kill. And it was then that she realized that she didn’t have any other choice but to murder – even those innocent of any wrongdoing. There was no other option open to her, not if she wished to please her adored Iiwa-chan. Not if she wished to be by the beautiful woman’s side forever. For that, Aia would do anything she wished of her. Even…murder…people…who were…innocent…? A sudden chill gripped Aia’s heart as her eyes fell again upon the long-haired girl kneeling by the side of one of the dead guards. What was she doing? Something inside her mind clicked abruptly. Was that…was that what she was becoming? Was that what she…she would become? Another Hyyakazi Yumi? Another murderer killing for the pleasure it brought her and not for the sense of justice it was supposed to grant? Aia had tasted that satisfaction before, tasted that…pleasure. It had been a brief, but nauseatingly memorable sensation. When she had gutted the bastard Masana Hasakura. As his eyes clouded over with death, she had felt an undeniable pleasure in watching him die. The blood on her cheek had been repulsive, but somewhere down deep – deeper than even she knew or thought could exist – she enjoyed the feel of it there. And down in that darkness within her, down within that boiling blackness given birth by her hated sensei – she had hungered for more.

Aia’s eyes widened frightfully. What was she becoming? What was happening to her? Was she really that willing to sacrifice her principles – her very soul – just to be with…with Iiwa-chan? Was her governess’s love and devotion worth the misery she would have to endure for the rest of her life? Was it?! Shaking her head lightly, Aia pushed away the harrowing questions with a sudden viciousness that surprised even her. She had to concentrate! She had a job to do! Taking a moment to collect herself and pull those jumbled thoughts together into a sense of cohesion; Aia allowed herself a deep breath. She would never be like Yumi! No matter how many more men her beloved Iiwa-chan wanted her to kill, she would never allow herself to come to enjoy murdering people! She would hate doing it as long as she had to! She would never allow herself to willingly draw pleasure from the death of others! Never! Yet somewhere in the back of Aia’s mind, a small voice whispered dreadful and lilting questions. How many more does Iiwa-chan wish dead? How many more after the death of the one’s who raped her? Will she stop with her vengeance then? Or will she wish more death upon the gender that violated her trust and innocence?

Aia almost welcomed the sound of the fusuma sliding open. Almost. Shoving away those distressing thoughts, she refocused her dazed eyes on the engawa again. Thick, dark blood pooled around the motionless heads of both men and stained the broad wooden slats of the veranda’s small walkway. And standing there in the frame of the doorway, silhouetted by the dull glow of the room behind her, was Yumi; staring directly at Aia. A dark grin was etched menacingly across her young, unblemished and shadow-swathed face. It was a grin that spoke a dozen different warnings to Aia. All of them screaming one terrible truth to her already overburdened mind.

No matter how fast she moved or how quickly she dispatched Oda Komoji, the time remaining for the life of the woman and children she sought to protect was quickly running out.

oOo

Standing in front of the slender mirror in her room, Yumi ran the brush through her long, red-streaked ebon hair meticulously. Clad only in a pair of barely-there panties, she stared with lazy, half-open eyes at the image reflected back at her. Sleep still clung to her weary body, even though she had been up for the past forty minutes. Stifling a yawn, Yumi gazed past her reflection in the mirror and directed it to what lay behind her. On the bed to the rear of her half-naked form, the seifuku for Kyoto Gakuen Junior and Senior High School was laid out somewhat messily. For a moment, the briefest glimmers of a smile played across her full, slightly pouty lips. There had been…alterations made to the uniform; alterations that were sure to piss off both Iiwa-san and Mai-sensei. But she didn’t care. Afterall, what use was it to have a near perfect body and not flaunt it for every guy and girl to see? So what if those school pricks saw her as a slut. She was one, in every sense of the word; made that way by an undeniable urge to please the only woman who saw any worth in her. The only woman in the world that she gave a damn about.

Mai-sensei.

Yumi would do anything to please that woman, even whore herself out to a slimy reporter only interested in getting between her legs. Not that she had minded of course. And wondrously enough, Hinomora Koji had been a very good fuck – even right up to the point where Yumi pulled Mibojin and Koji Meka out from under the chair he had been interviewing her from earlier in the day and pasted his goddamned brains all over the wall behind him. The feeling and warmth of both his blood splashing across her face and his sperm flowing deep inside of her had only made Yumi orgasm even harder. She would have screamed out in total ecstasy if she could have. But then, everyone would have known she was there…doing him.

Yumi laughed out loud at that last thought as she pulled the brush from her hair and tossed it down uncaringly on the nearby dresser. It’s a fucking shame that I couldn’t play with him a little more, she thought rancidly, moving over to her bed. He really did have a lot more fucking cock than I gave him credit for! I mean, Christ, he almost split me in half with that monster! I fucking came almost as soon as I put it in my cunt! Damn, what a fucking waste of a delicious dick. But, oh well, Mai wanted the little bastard dead. So now, he’s fucking dead! But still, what a fucking waste! Plopping herself down on the edge of her bed, Yumi reached across it for the knee length black socks that went with the uniform. Bringing one of her legs up over the other and crossing them, she bent forward enough to place the opening of the sock over her long toes and pulled it all the way up to just below her knee. Dropping that leg down, she reached over and grabbed hold of the other sock and repeated the process with her left leg. Afterward, she stood up again and looked down at her seifuku with a mischievous smile.

When I show up at school with this bitch on, she thought hotly, every fucking boy in that motherfucker is gonna want to put me on my damned back. Heh! I can hardly fucking wait to get there! Pausing in her thoughts long enough to reach down and grab hold of the snowy white blouse, Yumi grinned wickedly as she slid into it easily and began to do up the middle three buttons only. First, a little mind-fucking with some of the boys at that stupid school – and hell, who knows, maybe a little fucking with some of the boys at that school! And then… Twirling around quickly on the balls of her sock-clad feet, Yumi released the buttons on her blouse and raised both hands with her long fingers extended outward. Stopping her spin in front of the mirror, she pointed them menacingly at it as if they were her twin guns. Both the look on her face and the smile planted there darkened psychotically.

…I’m gonna settle up with you, Ai. I haven’t forgotten what you fucking did to me, you little shit! I’m gonna make your sorry ass suffer for it, you stupid bitch! Those little kiddies and that old whore of a wife that you want sooooo badly to protect? They’re already fucking dead! They just don’t know it yet!

With that last thought playing brutally across her twisted mind and a quick, bitter laugh, Hyyakazi Yumi turned back to the bed and grabbed up the dark seifuku’s skirt; the smile on her slim face growing even wider as she did.

- o -

Adjusting the small earpiece that she had liberated from the dead guard on the engawa behind her, Yumi walked casually into the wide room behind the formerly sealed fusuma. As she had expected, the room was nearly bare – devoid of anything modern and rife with a hideous anachronistic design. Tatami mats covering the floor, low polished tables, tokonoma with a very old looking scroll hanging within the alcove’s wide space; everyplace within the room her eyes slid to, there was nothing – anything – up to date or in anyway modern. The sense of tradition that the space relentlessly oozed made Yumi want to go wild and trash everything that she could see. And she could see a lot. But, that wasn’t her job. Not tonight. Not this time.

Grinning as she moved quickly through the shadowy room, Yumi’s dark thoughts lingered briefly on the short-haired girl that had been hiding behind the small Shinto shrine in that disgustingly fragrant garden. Oyugi Aia had been watching her from the moment she had entered it and oh so easily dispatched of those useless men guarding the door. Yumi was almost certain that the younger girl’s eyes had been wide with disgust and horror as she killed those two bastards. And the thought couldn’t have made her any happier. She knew how her former friend and love felt about senseless killing – of murdering without purpose. But it wasn’t like Yumi gave two shits to a damn about what the little bitch thought. And besides, that was precisely the reason she had killed those two useless sacks of meat in the first place. Oh, she knew that she could have just ‘incapacitated’ them, but where would the fun have been in that? Breaking a limb? Nope. Fracturing a jaw? Uh-uh. Fist to the throat? Not nearly satisfying enough. Yumi had been taught to enjoy the pain she reaped on others, to bask and bath in it. It was a lesson she had been forced to learn twice; multiple times at the hands of her degenerate father and just as many – maybe more – times at the hard and brutal hands of Shuguri Mai. A crooked smile emerged from that twisted grin as she neared the shoji that led out into the main hallway of Oda Komoji’s home. The death of those two goons was the ultimate expression of those lessons learned from days past, but in truth, they hardly left her satisfied. They weren’t even a light snack to her. No, the main course of the night still waited deep within the stoic and stifling rooms of the two-level home she was so carelessly trespassing through. Then and only then, would she be able to impart what had been so ruthlessly instilled within her to a very stupid and naïve little girl.

Suddenly, a small stab of static assaulted her eardrum through the audio piece shoved into her left lobe. Wincing slightly with a curse as she holstered the silver GLOCK 21 and pulled it out, Yumi paused in her intentionally heavy steps and stared at miniature earpiece for a long moment. Beneath her booted feet, the fragile material of the tatami flooring fractured and splintered under their weight. Again the static squawked over the little audio device, but this time Yumi could make out a voice on the other end coming through. Smiling darkly, she raised it close to her ear, but didn’t place it back inside – and listened.

“…Aibato…copy? I repeat do you cop – Goddammit…Fushumu! Aibato! What the hell…going on? Answer me…! …shit…converge on the tatami…something’s happening…! Alert…and his family! We…intruders! Repeat, we have possible…! …form…perimeter…the western study…! …take Oda-san’s…they should…safe there…”

And at that, Yumi pulled the miniscule, oddly shaped speaker down from next to her ear, tossing it and the small receiver uncaringly to the ground. It had served its purpose at last. To find out where they would take the bitch and her fucking brats if things started to go to Hell in a hand basket. And now she knew. The western study. That was where they would be cowering for their fucking, sad-ass lives! Yumi could have laughed! That had been way too easy! Well, at least that part had been. Now all she had to do was cut a path through about twenty or so guards and she’d get to the main course of her murderous meal. Her full lips curved into a malicious and terrible smile as she pulled Mibojin Meka from it’s holster at the closing sounds of heavy footfalls. Her dark eyes narrowed as a violent thought raced into her mind. Looks like there’s gonna be plenty of fucking blood, sweat and bullets tonight! Come get some, you fuckers!

As that notion centered itself in her head, the first shadows of what she knew would soon become many more fell across the opaque, white paper screens of the shoji. Raising her twin .45 ACPs without hesitation, Yumi didn’t bother to hide the fact that she was in the room. Letting out a scream of delight – of pure and utter joy – she jammed back on the triggers to her guns. The bullets tore from the silenced barrels and ripped through the less-than-durable frame of the shoji. To the other side of it, two of the first few shadows staggered and then fell. The third slowed to avoid the hot lead being thrown out into the hallway by Mibojin Meka and Koji Meka, but got cut down anyway as his brief pausing put him right in the hail of bullets streaming out of the tatami room as Yumi traced the path of her twin guns in his direction. The bullets from the black and silver GLOCK 21s ripped into him ruthlessly, splattering bright splotches of crimson across the stark white of the paper walls separating the room from the hallway. He stumbled forward for a moment, then collapsed into the shoji, tearing and splintering the thin wall of wood and paper. His body hit the floor with a heavy thud that brought a quick smile to Yumi’s shadowy face. Her eyes widened in anticipation of the next set of victims, her fingers practically twitching with undisguised eagerness on the triggers of the two GLOCKs. She would not have to wait long. Through the blood-stained, somewhat gaping and irregular hole that the now-dead guard’s body had made, she could see the slowly approaching forms of more of Oda’s security guards as the weak light that filtered into the tatami room from the hallway illuminated them and cast their oblong shadows against its far wall. Yumi almost laughed out loud. So now they were being cautious! After trying to bum rush the room with sheer numbers, and paying for that fucking stupidity with their blood, it seemed as though Oda’s personal security personnel were going to try and play it safe by using vigilance and strategy. Too fucking bad that ain’t gonna work for you stupid shits either, Yumi yelled out viciously in her mind.

Pressing buttons located just above the GLOCKs’ handles with her thumbs, she ejected out the nearly spent clips and then quickly brought the empty chambers down toward her thick utility belt. In one smooth motion, Yumi jammed the empty handles of her guns onto the fresh clips protruding out from the belt then raised them up before her and slammed the bottom of the two weapons together to force the new ammunition in all the way. That done, Yumi ran for the hole in the shoji and made a quick diving leap through. Twisting her body as she did, she raised both of her guns in the direction of the approaching guards and focused her eyes. She closed out everything else around her. Nothing else mattered but the men before her. Nothing else. Just the men. Yumi’s breathing slowed. She could hear her heart pounding hard in her ears. She could feel the blood pumping hotly through her veins. But none of that mattered. Just the men. Four of them. Three to the right, one to the left; with three more coming up just behind them. Focus. Only the first four mattered. Her breathing slowed even more as everything around her but the men darkened to her eyes. They were surprised. They were raising their guns toward her. Slowly. Everything was moving so slowly. She was in the Zone. She was right where she needed to be. Yumi’s lips curved into a dark smile devoid of compassion or warmth. Her mind raced with relentless anticipation. Her heart pounded with mad desire. Her blood screamed in her veins. Four men. Four bullets. Four kills. All else faded from her eyes but the men before her falling body. Their guns had found her. But her’s had found them first.

Yumi pulled the trigger of Mibojin Meka. The single bullet released from the silver .45 ACP struck viciously with deadly accuracy. The first guard’s head snapped back as the rear of it exploded outward, spraying all those behind with blood, fragments of bone and torn chunks of jellylike brain matter. He immediately went limp and slacked to the floor. One man. One bullet. One kill.

Adjusting her arm slightly, Yumi pulled the trigger again. Another bullet erupted from the silver GLOCKs’ silenced barrel. And again, it struck with deadly accuracy. The second guard she had targeted took the slug straight into his chest. The vest of Kevlar strapped across it offered no aid, no protection. Blood and torn flesh from the bullet’s impact pushed out past the man’s clothing, falling to the floor in a number of messy drops. He crumpled to the wood-slatted flooring with hardly a whimper. A bullet to the heart. The death had been instant. Two men. Two bullets. Two kills.

Bringing up the arm holding the black GLOCK 21 – Koji Meka, Yumi crossed it over the one holding Mibojin Meka. Pausing for only a second or two, she lined up the final two shots – one man to the left, one man to the right. Their guns were ready. Their faces were dark. But Yumi could feel their fear, feel their unease. Their fingers found the triggers. The bullets blasted from the chambers with a loud, cacophonous sound that tore through the silence in her mind. But the men who had fired them were afraid, scared of their own inevitable death at her hands. And that fear had affected their ability to aim, affected their ability to hit the target. Her. They whizzed by, high-pitched whistling noise passing just over her left shoulder and just under her head. Yumi didn’t hesitate. She pulled back on her own triggers. Unlike the two men, she had no fear of death. She knew that she wouldn’t die. The twin .45 ACPs jumped slightly in her gloved hands as they dispensed the death that the two men before her had so feared. The bullets found their marks. One man’s left eye exploded in a shower of blood and flesh as the slug penetrated his skull and then blew out the back of his head in a violent display of the shot’s power. Everything behind his ruined skull was painted with bright crimson and small to medium-sized chunks of the soft tissue that had been inside of it. There wasn’t much left by the time he hit the floor. The second bullet caught the other guard right between the eyes, splintering the hard bone of his cranium and cratering the bridge of his nose as it entered and shredded the inside of his head. The explosion of bits of bone and other, various forms of semi-solid matter splattered nastily against the off-white wall panels next to him and oozed down them gelatinously. For a moment, his body just stood there as if refusing to accept that it was in fact dead as long rivulets of thick red fluid flowed from his lifeless eyes, and then it fell to the blood-slick, wooden floor in a jumbled heap. Four men. Four bullets. Four kills.

Suddenly, the world around her was alive with sound and sensation again. And unfortunately for Yumi, realization came right along with it. The Zone had vanished, disappeared like a soap bubble pricked by a pin; it’s near silent void replaced by a thunderous truth that was now echoing in her mind dangerously. The hallway wasn’t as wide as she had first suspected – at least not wide enough for her to pull off a successful running dive without plowing headlong into the wall! Unworriedly, she took her eyes off the other three stunned men behind the one’s she had killed, craning her head around to see just how close the inside wall was. It was a lot closer than she wished it to be. Her daring leap was about to have a very jarring conclusion against the interior wall that was now growing closer by the second! Fuck, she thought wildly, quickly struggling to bend her body at the waist so that her back would be facing the rapidly closing hallway wall and take the brunt of the impact.

Folding her body as best she could, Yumi hardly had time to inhale a deep breath before her back struck stiffly against the wall. She could feel the air being knocked from her lungs as the rest of her body impacted with the unforgiving, wooden panels. Body jerked viciously, she desperately clung hold to the twin GLOCKs in her gloved fists; doing whatever she could to maintain her grip of them – knowing well that if she didn’t, her earlier belief of how she wouldn’t die might be proven horribly wrong. For a second, Yumi thought that she would blackout from the collision. Small spots of color and dark splotches danced menacingly at the edge of her blurred vision. And through them, she could see that the three remaining guards had recovered from their earlier astonishment of their comrade’s quick and brutal murder at her hands and were now training their weapons on her falling form. Death was all that emanated from their narrowed eyes.

“Shit…” she groaned hoarsely, trying to work more air into her near-empty lungs as her body continued its uncontrolled descent to the floor below.

Mind already working on a way out of the situation she had found herself in because of her recklessness, Yumi stifled a grunt as her battered body slammed viciously onto the floor. She had managed to maintain a literal death-grip on both of her modded .45 ACPs, but her body felt like a heavy sack of rice and her lungs gasped hungrily for every bit of air her partially open mouth sucked in. Her eyes never left the three men before her though, dark brown orbs tracking their arms as they raised those midnight black pistols toward her.

Not…yet…

The three guns were leveled at her remorselessly, fingers teasing the triggers.

Not…yet…

The men’s faces were empty of any emotion save for hatred, their eyes burning with a mad desire to see her dead.

Not…yet…

Their fingers twitched, decision to pull back on the triggers of their weapons made.

Now…!

Placing the points of her elbows and booted feet against the wall, Yumi summoned all the strength her body could manage and pushed herself away from it just as a hail of gunfire tore large, gaping chunks out of the floor she had been positioned against mere seconds before. Rolling across the hallway, Yumi brought both Mibojin Meka and Koji Meka up as she did and shot blindly at the three men. The fired bullets were hardly accurate, striking the floorboards, the paneled walls and the high ceiling of the hallway. Not a one of them struck any of or anywhere near the three men who had been shooting at her. But, her blind fire did succeed in doing one thing. It made the remaining guards backpedal quickly down the hall toward the bend that led deeper into the house. Yumi could see them round the corner through her dizzied eyes as she came to rest abruptly against the remnants of the shoji. The splintered wood and paper framework trembled heavily as she rolled into it, but surprisingly held together.

Taking a few seconds to gather her thoughts and clear her head, she hurriedly pushed herself back up to her feet; doing what she could to ignore the burning sensation in her back where she had struck the wall. Her entire body still felt weaker than it had before she impacted against the wall and her breathing was still heavy and labored because of it. But she didn’t care. Only one thing was on her mind. Only one thing was pushing her forward. Reaching the western study and murdering Komoji’s wife and children. And seeing the stunned look on Aia’s face when she found out about it.

Throwing herself immediately against the interior wall, right shoulder poised against it crudely, Yumi forced her worn body into a hard run down the hallway. She had to reach the end of the hallway before the guards had a chance to reload! Inwardly, Yumi’s heart was pounding with as much eagerness as it was with that cold sliver of worry. She leapt over the drying blood and dead bodies of the men she had already slain and continued on her way down the corridor. Each booted step that struck the wooden floor rung loudly in her ears as they brought her closer to the adjacent passageway where the guards were rearming themselves. The hallway was getting shorter and shorter. Readying her GLOCKs, Yumi tensed the muscles in her right shoulder. Beyond the sound of her heavy footfalls, she could hear the faint, telltale traces of metal sliding into metal with loud clicking noises. Yumi knew that sound very well. The guards were reloading their pistols! She had to hurry!

Pushing her shoulder hard against the interior wall as she neared the end of the corridor, Yumi allowed the momentum to twist her body around as she brought up the .45 ACP clenched in her left hand. The world blurred slightly as she spun around the corner, stopped and jammed the silenced barrel of the silver handgun right into the face of one of the three guards. He froze immediately, his own gun held in his right hand and pointed down toward the floor. Obviously, he had been preparing to peek around the corner and, if possible, take a few shots at her. Too bad I reached you’re shitty little ass first, pretty boy, Yumi thought hotly as her finger teased the trigger.

Using her hesitation to his advantage, the guard suddenly brought up his gun hand and knocked it hard against her own, throwing off Mibojin Meka’s aim as she pulled back on its trigger. The shot went wide, striking the wall next to guard furthest from her. Seizing the opening he had given himself, the guard smiled darkly as he leveled the black pistol instantly at her head and tensed his finger on its trigger.

Now, it was her turn to sweat.

Yumi’s eyes widened slightly as she spun herself away from it as fast as she could, throwing her aching body back against the interior wall of the corridor that she had run down only seconds before just as three shots blasted from gun’s chamber. The loud banging and popping sounds left her ears ringing as the slugs missed her head by what could have been inches. They blew large chunks out of the wood paneling across from him, spraying splinters of wood and small to medium sized portions of plaster all into the air and onto the floor. Yumi glared with stony eyes in the direction of the weapon that had almost taken her life. You sorry motherfucker, I… Her thoughts paused as her eyes narrowed immediately at what lay directly before her. She smiled at what she saw. The man’s arm was extended out well past the edge of the corner. He had left himself wide open! You goddamned dumbass, she thought venomously. That’s the last fucking thing you should have done!

Pulling back from his exposed arm, Yumi raised her twin GLOCKs sideways and shoved their silenced barrels against the man’s pale wrist. She could see that his hand had grown taut in a quick preparation to move it. That only made Yumi laugh lightly to herself. Too fucking late now! He had no time to react as she pulled the triggers of both Mibojin Meka and Koji Meka simultaneously. The fragile flesh and bone literally exploded as the two bullets from her .45 ACPs ruthlessly tore into the place where hand met arm. Small splotches of blood spattered across her face as a horror-stricken scream ripped forth from the man’s throat. Withdrawing her GLOCK 21s from where his wrist had been, Yumi inspected her handiwork coarsely. The shots from her GLOCKs had not completely severed his hand and arm, but they more than guaranteed that he wouldn’t be drawing any beads on her anytime soon. Blood pulsed out of the guard’s ruined wrist and splattered messily across the smooth, wooden of the floor. The hand itself was hanging at a very peculiar angle, still attached to the arm by thick bands of cartilage and miniscule capillaries. The gun that had been poised in that hand was crimson-stained and now on the floor, sitting in the center of a widening puddle of blood that flowed near endlessly from the guard’s destroyed wrist. Suffice it for Yumi, or anyone else for that matter, to say, the man was definitely out of the fight. Now, all she had to worry about were his friends.

Holstering Mibojin Meka and grabbing the screaming man viciously by his ruined arm, Yumi pulled him out in front of her as she folded it up behind him and moved into the adjacent hallway behind his shuddering form. The injured guard hollered almost unintelligible profanities at her as she squeezed his arm harder, and then gave him a rough shove that quickly propelled him down the corridor. He stumbled forward awkwardly, bumping into the guard closest to him. The other man, who was trying to aim his reloaded gun at Yumi grabbed hold of him momentarily and then ruthlessly pushed him aside with a low curse as he raised his weapon again. But he never got the chance to fire it at her.

Before he knew what was happening, Yumi was already upon him; blood-spattered face twisting into a cruel grin that promised nothing but pain. She lashed out brutally with her right leg, throwing a high and vicious forward thrust kick that caught the bewildered guard square in the face. Her booted heel slammed into his nose with a disgustingly loud crunch, snapping back his head and forcing both hands up toward his face with a loud yell of both pain and surprise. Yumi allowed herself a brief smile as she prepared to finish the man off. But something caught her attention just out the corner of her eye. The other guard, the one who had been positioned along the opposite wall was in motion.

“You fucking bitch!” he screamed at her, raising his gun in Yumi’s direction. “Die you goddamned whore! DIE!!!”

Thoughts flowing like quicksilver, she hastily changed her plan of attack. Keeping her foot placed against the second guard’s face after delivering that sadistic kick, Yumi pushed off of him and used the momentum gained to fall back toward the floor as the other man squeezed off five rounds from his upraised weapon. The bullets whistled just overhead, embedding themselves in the wall right next to her. She could feel slivers of plaster and splinters strike her in the cheek. But she ignored them and the minor pricks of pain they brought. The fool shooting at her was all that mattered. Yumi could see that his face was a study in confusion and anger. His bewilderment made her want to laugh. But she allowed herself no hesitation. She knew what she was going to do. She was going to enjoy killing him and the other two, just as she had the first four.

Twisting her body as she fell, Yumi aimed Koji Meka at the man’s leg – the one that was supporting all of his weight. He was so close to her that she didn’t need to call up the Zone to hit her target this time. Those dark eyes flashed in amusement as she squeezed the trigger of her black GLOCK 21. The slug that erupted from the gun’s silenced barrel tore into the man’s upper thigh with a satisfying spray of blood, flesh and ripped cloth. But she didn’t stop with the first shot, even as the guard began to stumble forward. Yumi pulled the trigger again. And again. And again. And again.

Each bullet that impacted into his leg traced a wild path down almost to his ankle as she fell to the floor. By the time Yumi hit the ground, the guard’s leg was a bullet-riddled mess of torn flesh and bloody clothing. If she had counted right, she had just pumped close to six or seven rounds into his limb, creating a crimson trail that started on his upped thigh and ended at just above his ankle.

He fell to the wooden floor, dropping his gun and clutching blood-soaked leg. She was surprised – and somewhat impressed – that the guard did not scream out in pain like his comrades. Yumi felt her lips contort into a sheepish grin as she leveled Koji Meka at his head. He was so close that the barrel of her .45 ACP almost touched the top of it. A quick death for you then, tough guy, she called out ruthlessly in her mind. And she pulled back on the trigger. No hesitation. No remorse. There was a short and shallow gasp, then silence. Bang, bang. You’re dead ass –

Yumi’s humorous thought was cut short as she felt hard hands wrap themselves around her left ankle and drag her away from the man she had just killed. The sudden and unexpected movement caused Koji Meka to slip from her grasp. Fear leapt into Yumi’s heart as the black .45 ACP grew further and further away from her. She clawed desperately at the smooth floorboards with her gloved fingers, doing whatever she could to get back to her gun. No! She couldn’t leave it behind! It meant too much to her! It had been a gift from Mai! She had…to get it…back…

“Yeah bitch,” she heard a nasally voice rasp from above her. “Let’s see how fucking bad ass you are without your fucking piece!”

Yumi turned her body and raised her head to look up toward the man above her. It was the same one she had kicked in the face a few moments ago. A huge gash sat across the bridge of his nose, which was itself crooked at a very odd angle. Blood, both fresh and dried, covered the entire lower portion of his face. With that dark grin curving his lips, he looked like Death itself. Dammit, she cursed to herself. I should’ve killed his ass when I had the fucking chance. Gotta get back to Koji Meka! I can’t leave it behind! Yumi lifted her right leg and started to kick out at the man’s arms as hard as she could. I gotta get back to Koji Meka! If I don’t, Mai will never fucking forgive me!

Still kicking out at the man dragging her bodily through the hallway, Yumi screamed at him. “Leggo of me, you fucking idiot! LET ME GO!!!”

The man responded not with words, but with actions. Yumi clenched her teeth and stifled a grunt as he twisted her ankle hard.

“Does it hurt, bitch,” he finally question in a rough tone. “Does it!? Now you know what my goddamned nose fucking feels like! I’m gonna make you pay for you just did to me, you little slut! I’m gonna make you bleed for every fucking body you just murdered! I’m gonna make you hurt!”

Yumi’s eyes opened wide with remembrance as the injured guard rasped those last words to her.

I’m gonna make you hurt!

Sweaty hands were groping at her naked body, and the stench of cheap whiskey drowned out everything else. She wasn’t in control.

I’m gonna make you hurt!

Something big and hard pushed into her. She screamed. She beat her small hands against that hairy, flabby chest. She was at someone else’s mercy.

I’m gonna make you hurt!

Her legs were spread apart painfully and the heavy body that stunk of that cheap, American whiskey crushed her against the flat top of the kitchen table. She cried out for him to stop. All she got in return was laughter and lust. She had no control!

I’m gonna make you hurt!

The flabby body slammed against her small frame harder and harder, screaming at her with foul words that tore and shredded away her innocence one piece at a time. She wasn’t in control! He grunted in pleasure. He was! She yelled out in horror. She was at his mercy! He hit her. He was controlling her! She cried. She needed to be in control! He hit her again and laughed. She had to be in control. She wept in terror and hollered in agony. She couldn’t be a victim again! She had to be in control!!! He hit her again as he started to push into her even harder than before and said in a slurred, lust-filled voice…

…I’m gonna make you hurt!

Yumi’s mind snapped. All she could see was her father as he raped her, as he beat her and drew pleasure from it. All she could feel was her control slipping. She would not become a victim again! She wouldn’t! Yumi began to lash out again and again with her free leg, kicking with reckless, random strikes. Her mind was alight with memory of that horrible night in Osaka! She had to get free! She had to get away! She kicked out aimlessly again and again, struggling to free herself from the guard’s hard-handed grip on her ankle. She wouldn’t let herself be violated like that again! She wouldn’t! Never again, not like that! Yumi kicked out viciously and violently, heavy-booted feet beginning to land solid strikes against the man’s arms. He struggled to keep her in his hands, once again applying pressure to her already bruised ankle. But she didn’t care. She had to get away from him! She would not be raped again! She would not be beaten again! No by her father! Not by any man’s hands!

Yumi lashed out yet again with her leg. She would be free! She would not go back! She would never go back! No one was ever going to treat her that way again! There was a slight jolt, and then she heard a sickening crack and then an agonizing wail of pain. Before she knew what was going on, her left leg had been dropped to the floor and her would-be attacker was on his knees in front of her gripping his oddly bent arm with his other. Not caring for his plight, Yumi threw herself on her belly and scrambled back up the hallway to her abandoned GLOCK 21. I have to get it back, she thought out vacantly, panic and fear interlaced wickedly in her heart. I have to get Koji Meka back! I have to make the bad man go away! Behind her, the last remaining guard who wasn’t unconscious or dead continued to scream out in pain. Just like her father had on that terrible night in the kitchen after she had taken control.

Finally reaching the fallen .45 ACP, Yumi grabbed it up quickly and pushed herself over onto her back. Bending at the waist, she sat up and trained the black GLOCK on the man who had dared to violate her. Who had dared to take away her innocence! In front of Yumi, her father begged for forgiveness – yelled out to her that he was sorry for what he had done. Her face twisted, then contorted into a malicious sneer.

“DIE,” she shrieked, pulling the trigger. “DIE YOU FUCKING CHILD MOLESTING BASTARD!!!”

Yumi didn’t stop pulling back on the trigger of Koji Meka, even after the entire clip had been emptied of its remaining bullets.

oOo

Detective Hasokodo Tenrai drummed his fingers unconscionably on the worn steering wheel of his beaten up Mazada Miata as he leaned back in the driver’s seat in annoyance. For the umpteenth time since he had arrived in the small clearing that sat across the street from the domicile of Oda Komoji, Tenrai wondered again just what he was doing there. Besides the obvious fact of him being the investigating officer on the recent rash of sadistic murders of high profile businessmen, what reason did he have for being there? Afterall, it wasn’t as if he owed the man anything. Along with three others, Oda had bullied him all throughout junior and senior high school. His interview with him earlier in the week about his connections to both Momaru Jagyu and Masana Hasukura, two of the previous victims, couldn’t have been any less informative. It would seem that Oda Komoji did not remember Hasokodo Tenrai, the boy he had once beaten so bad that he been suspended for two days before his father bribed the school committee to allow him back in. He sneered at that memory. Oda had been the worst of the bunch! Thinking back on the meeting, the man had seemed on edge for some reason; a reason that Tenrai had not been able to puzzle out. He had been rude, unwilling to cooperate, abusive and just downright intolerable – everything that a man of his position and power was known to be. A perfect evolution from the boy he had been in school. To say that Oda Komoji was an insufferable son of a bitch would paint a pretty accurate picture of what Tenrai thought of the man. And with all of that fresh in his mind, why was he sitting there staring at the Oda’s home – keeping a watchful vigil that seemed so very out of place for someone who couldn’t stand the man?

Because, he thought distantly, his connection to the first two victims can’t be overlooked. His mannerisms, his actions when I went to visit him; he knows something about what’s going. I know it! If he doesn’t, then why the sudden increase in security? Why did he seem so nervous when I brought up the names of Momaru Jagyu and Masana Hasukura? Just what are you trying to hide, Oda? What’s the big fucking secret, huh? Who’s after you? Is it the Yakuza? The Triad? The Tongs? The Russian Mafia? Just who did you and your friends piss off, Oda? Who would be that adamant to see you all dead?

Originally, Tenrai had suspected that the murders of the two men had to do with their past criminal histories of cases involving sex with minors and child molestation. That had been the first connection that he and Urobi Sho had uncovered. But as he dug deeper into the victim’s past records and reports, Tenrai had come across some very unsavory connections that they had with a great number of organized crime circles, especially the Yakuza. Finding out about those ties had been what set the first slivers of doubt jabbing through his head. The doubt increased when the half-naked body of Hinomora Koji was found in a locked Interview Room at the offices of the Kyoto Shimbun, a single gunshot to the forehead. That coupled with another gunshot death, a former lawyer to Momaru Jagyu by the name of Yurobi Hirokoshi known to have some ties with the Yakuza had all but cemented a connection between them and the recent murders. But something was still nagging Tenrai. Besides the fact that he knew Momaru and Masana. Even with the brutality displayed, and in some cases, the humiliation, he couldn’t help but think it odd that the Yakuza would be stupid enough to bring such a public rash of murders directly to be laid at their doorstep. It was very unlike them to leave their…business…out in the open like that. The Yakuza weren’t like other criminal organizations around the world. They had a public image to maintain that was semi-legitimate, something that kept the police out of their dealings most of the time. And that ‘public face’ was very important to them; something that they wouldn’t just throw away on a whim of bloody and violent retaliation. No matter what the victims had done to gain their ire and wrath. But still, the connection between Momaru, Masana, Oda and the Yakuza could not be denied. It had to be there for a reason.

Sighing heavily, Tenrai shifted in his seat again in irritation. And if not the Yakuza, he thought vacantly to himself. Who is trying to frame them for the murders? And why? They have plenty of enemies who would benefit from something like this. Hell, the Russian Mafia and the Triad have been trying to get a foothold in Kyoto for years now. Destroying the public image of the Yakuza would definitely give them the –

Tenrai’s thoughts were cut short as numerous gunshots broke the silence of the cool night.

“Fuck,” he practically screamed as he reached for the latch and threw the car door open. Stepping out into the chilly air, he reached into his overcoat and pulled an aging .38 Special Revolver from his hidden shoulder holster. Holding it down with the short barrel pointing toward the ground, Tenrai cupped both hands around the smooth handle and ran as quickly as he could to the concrete wall surrounding the house. Throwing himself against it back first, he edged cautiously toward the intricately designed steel gate. As he approached it, a thought crossed his mind.

Well, Tenrai contemplated darkly when he reached the twisted frame of the gate. That’s just great. How the hell am I even supposed to get in to see what the fuck is going on? I wonder if there’s some way to –

His thought trailed off as a blur of darkness crossed into his line of sight. Already on edge because of the gunfire he had heard a few minutes ago, Tenrai let his police instincts take charge. Raising the .38 quickly, he trained the snub-barreled weapon on the spot that he had first seen the shadowy blur and slowly traced an aim from the direction of the gate to the opposite side were the wall extended into the opaque light down the street. For moment he just stood there, as still as the night he was draped in. But nothing seemed to be anywhere near him. However, that gut feeling that boiled within him wouldn’t allow him to drop his guard. He knew he had seen something. But just what had that something been?

“I am impressed.”

Tenrai swiftly threw himself into a full roll on the sidewalk away from the gate and then pushed himself back up to his feet into a crouching position, gun upraised and held in steady hands at the shadow who had appeared behind him and spoke out.

“Hands in the air! Nice and slow,” he called out with a voice that was calmer than he was feeling. How in the hell did they just appear behind me like that? Where in the fuck did they come from? And was that a…a woman’s voice? He motioned toward the shadowy figure with the .38, rising from the ground and up to his full height. “You heard me, hands above your head! Now!”

The figure shrouded in darkness folded it’s arms behind their back and stood erect.

“And,” they intoned in a low voice that was full of certainty and distinctly feminine. “If I refuse?”

Tenrai’s eyes narrowed. Readjusting his grip on the handle of the .38, he felt his finger tense on the trigger. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel the sweat beading on his brow even though the night air was cool enough to prevent it from doing so. Swallowing hard, he motioned the handgun at the figure again. “Put your hands above your head! Do it! Now! Don’t make me shoot you!”

The sudden coldness in the woman’s tone as she responded almost made Tenrai pull the trigger of his revolver. “Do not worry, detective. You will not have the chance to do so. You are not quick enough, nor are you brutal enough to shoot me in cold blood. Or are you? What is that I sense within you, detective? What are you hiding away beneath that honorable exterior? Is it…a memory? An ill-feeling? A past…regret? Interesting.”

A sensation of unease pulsed through Tenrai’s mind, and then his body. Again he adjusted his grip on the .38’s handle. It was becoming slick with his own sweat. He was beginning to lose focus. He couldn’t concentrate. What was wrong with him? And what was this…this woman going on about?! Memories? Ill-feelings? Past regrets? What was she –

Behind the wall, more muffled gunshots erupted from Oda’s home. But Tenrai stood immobilized. What did the woman know? Who was she? And why was she here?

“You hesitate,” she spoke out quietly, turning her shadowed head toward the still-lit home of Oda Komoji. “Which is a mistake, detective. You never hesitate to do what you must. Everything is a part of a cycle. Certain actions, no matter how cruel seeming or deviant they are, must be done in order to advance that cycle to its next rotation. The cycle is endless, ever-moving. Hesitation…”

The woman lingered on that last word as she burst forward into the light and lashed out at Tenrai with a straight fist to the chest. Too caught up in his own thoughts, he had no time – no chance – to react. He grunted loudly as the woman’s hard fist struck him just below his chest, near the bottom of his rib-cage. He thought he heard a cracking sound come from that area. Doubling over involuntarily, he dropped his revolver to the cement sidewalk below. It clattered against the hard surface with a metal on concrete noise. The woman did not stop there. In a swift move, she compacted her arm tightly; folding it so that the elbow was at a point and brought it upward with vicious speed. It impacted violently against Tenrai’s chin, snapping back his head and breaking his jaw. Thrown back by the force of the blow, he stumbled uncertainly, trying to catch his lost balance as unconsciousness closed in on him. But he failed to do so and tumbled to the ground in a heap of limp muscle and bone. One last thought dawn in his mind as pain and darkness swept over him.

What…does…she…know…?

“…Only leads you to a finality that offers little to no enlightenment. As I am sure you are now very much aware. Farewell detective, I do not think that we shall meet again.”

With that, the woman clad only in loose, simple black clothing turned away from the near-comatose Hasokodo Tenrai. She took four steps before pausing and gazing back in the direction of his body, the feeling of a familiar presence touching her senses. The woman’s pale face contorted into a look of utter amusement as she folded her arms behind her back; elbows cupped in the hands of the opposite arms.

“So kohai,” she stated mirthfully. “You have finally decided to face your master.”

- o -

Shuguri Mai took a moment to gaze down at the fallen police detective, then returned her eyes to the woman she thought that she would never see again. Her eyes had narrowed ever so slightly at the woman calling her ‘kohai’.

“I am no longer your pupil, Crone,” Mai voiced indignantly as she took a few more steps forward and stopped just short of Hasokodo Tenrai’s lifeless form. “I severed my ties with you long ago. You should be grateful that I chose to ignore you all this time instead of making my displeasure with you known.”

The woman called ‘Crone’ just stood there, back still turned to Mai and face still full of amusement.

“Your ‘displeasure’ with me?” she questioned absently. Lifting her head toward the night sky, the aged woman laughed. “Tell me, kohai, just exactly what ‘displeasure’ is it that you are referring to? Certainly not that nonsense involving Tomoe.”

Mai’s cold outer shell cracked for a moment, her face becoming a thunderhead of raw emotion. Her fists clenched at her sides and teeth ground against one another so hard that they began to ache. But upon realizing what was happening, what the old woman before her was doing, she forced herself to calm down; ruthlessly sheathing her emotions in an icy shield that blocked them from her mind. Yet even then, she couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.

“You have no right to speak of him in such a flippant and casual manner, Crone! I do not ever wish to hear that name fall from your tongue again!”

The Crone lowered head with a smile and stared back down at the pavement beneath her bare feet. She shook it then, smile reduced to a fading grin.

“I see that you have yet to learn the most important of all lessons, kohai,” she whispered emotionlessly. “It is why you are here now, is it not? That ignored lesson from your past has returned and granted you a weakness that you did not need, a weakness I did not want you to have. One that you have hidden even from yourself. How amusing.”

Mai sniffed as she folded her arms across her chest – doing her best not to mimic the older woman’s stance – and stared at the Crone with hard, cold eyes.

“I have hidden nothing from myself! I am as I have always been, nothing about me has or will ever change! And what care have I of anything that you did not want me to possess, Crone? As for my reason of being here, they are my own and of no matter or consequence to you. In fact, I could ask the same of you.”

The Crone’s face slackened into an emotionless expression. Turning her head toward the house, she seemed to be listening to something that only she could hear. When she finally replied to her former student, her words were as empty as her inexpressive face.

“And I could grant you the same answer, kohai. But I shall hold no secrets from you. I am here because of her. The child you are here for. The one whom you seek to train as your successor, kohai.”

Mai’s face lost its emotionless shell for the second time that night. And though she could not see it, the Crone knew that it had; knew that she had again gotten under her former pupil’s skin.

“As I have told you many times before when you were my student,” she spoke out quietly against the silence of the night. “There are no secrets that you can hide from me, kohai. What you know is already at my disposal to use as I see fit. Another lesson you never had a chance to learn. More so the pity you.”

Mai struggled to reassert her emotionless shell, doing what she could to push the elder woman’s chiding voice out of her head. When she managed to regain enough resolve to encase herself in ice again, she addressed her former sensei.

“Do not pity me, Crone,” Mai uttered, barely containing the anger that boiled in her heart. “Save your pity for yourself. For the death that you seek will never come. Not from me. Not from the hands of your former pupil! And you dare not dishonor yourself or the memories of your ancestors by committing seppuku! I alone hold your life in my hands. I alone continue your suffering existence in this world. And I shall not let it end. You will die when the world is done with you, when it has no further use for you. Take that with you as you skulk back into the shadows of whatever foul pit you crawled from. Take that with you and remember that you will die as you now live – broken and beaten, a spiritless shell of the woman you once were. Take that with you and let it continue your cycle of endless suffering.”

Without saying any other words, Shuguri Mai turned on the ball of her soft-booted foot and strode away from the woman who had once been her teacher. The Crone did not turn to watch her leave, nor did her face show any other expression other than that blank, vacant look. Turning her head to look through the gate that sealed Oda Komoji’s home from the outside world, she gazed at it as though trying to find the child who she knew her former pupil was there for. A small smile slid greasily across her withered lips.

You give yourself away, kohai, she thought to herself after resuming her walk away from the downed detective. You have shown a considerable amount of emotion on this night, and through it, you have revealed everything to me. You fool. You truly are blinded by your hatred for me. But it is your hatred that makes you strong, kohai. It is your hatred that keeps you from killing me, thus causing my suffering in this miserable world. But in your haste, you have allowed me to see the truth that you have hidden from everyone surrounding you. I know that truth now. And I will use that truth you have given me to finally grant myself the death I have been so long denied by you. I shall make your child mine, kohai. And when I do, my fate will become yours.

With a cruel and bitter laugh escaping from her craggy lips, the Crone disappeared into the shadows from whence she had first come. She had no other reason to remain there. She already knew what the outcome would be. Afterall, she had been watching both children since they came under the charge of her errant former pupil. Watching as their skills had sharpened and grew to what they presently were. Now had been the time for her to make her move. To make her presence known to her past student. Shuguri Mai’s child would be hers and nothing would change that. Everything had been set in motion. All she had to do was wait and be patient. And if anything, she was patient. Another smile cracked her twisted lips.

All would be accomplished in the fullness of time.

THE END OF CONTRACT #9 – “BLOOD, SWEAT & BULLETS”