Chapter 4
He was certain who it had been and why they had targeted him in that way. What surprised him was that they had not made certain that he had died, or perhaps they had assumed, as he had, that he would allow himself to bleed to death and that no one would come to his aid. Obviously some good- hearted person had seen him though and had been kind enough to call am ambulance of some sort. He had blacked out completely and had no memories of that happening, but logically it must have.
The child who had stabbed him was not anyone of importance and was most likely just a typical street kid who had needed the money. If he knew the one who had sent him - and he thought he did - the boy was most likely dead now, anyway. Leave no one to tell the tale. The person who had sent the boy was also probably dead. That was their way and one less henchmen was not a big deal; they could get another as easily as they had gotten him.
All that remained for him to do was go to the source. To kill the killer and stop those who committed crimes without remorse or thought. That was his duty, that was what he was cursed to do, being so far beyond the common law as he was. He had long ago ceased to question it. There was no wrong or right, just evil and more evil. The lesser evil was what he did: to kill those who did wrong, which in itself was wrong, in a way, yet in a sense it was justifiable. Somehow.
He returned to his safe house. Not the one he had been staying at, but another. They had obviously found the one he had been frequenting and he wouldn't take that chance. He would complete his mission no matter how injured he was and if he died at least he would have tried.
Ken. He would be far away by now. Most likely Weiss would assume that he was dead and that was better for him. Ken deserved a chance at a real life as much as Youji did. He, however, he was doomed - by choice - to live the life of an assassin and there was no other path for him. Some simply couldn't turn from a path, no matter how self-destructive it would ultimately be. Just as Omi would always be a Takatori and was forced to walk his path even if he would rather be fighting than giving the orders.
He collasped into a chair and closed his eyes, never relaxing completely, but just enough to be somewhat comfortable. His whole body felt weak and useless. Still, he would strike tonight. He could not delay and he had no idea how long he had been unconscious for or how many other misdeeds his target had done since then.
The layout of the target's house was firmly implanted in his mind; he could have found his way around with his eyes closed. He would strike quietly and efficently. There would be no grand entrance because he had absolutely no backup. Take out the guards, take out the target, and flee. Easy as that. He'd done the same thing a million times before.
Then he would get his sword. And report to Rex.
His sword. The one Youji had used to save his own life, the one he had been clutching when Aya went to find him after the explosion. He had not used it since then. Now he carried lethal darts, knives, and a different sword. It had been more expensive than his other one, but he did not like it as much; the other held more memories and he understood it better.
Which was ridiculous. A sword was a sword and they all worked the same way. Swing, cut, kill. There was nothing else for them.
And yet -
He jerked awake, shocked. He had not intended nor even realized that he had fallen asleep. Perhaps that was a good thing, though. Maybe now he would be more focused and better prepared to complete his mission. His newly stitched side still ached as he hauled himself to his feet, but he would not let such a small thing stop him. He had fought before in worse condition.
He just hadn't been alone during those occasions.
Not that he missed Ken or Youji. No, of course not. It just meant that he had to do more work on his own without any back up. He'd done it before.
It was just a bit lonely.
Well, perhaps very lonely.
Yet, it also meant he could be quiter, more stealthy. Get the job done without complications, without worrying if someone had gotten hurt. The only one who could die this time was him and that did not concern him overly much. Aya-chan was happy and beyond that nothing really mattered.
Right?
Yes, of course. What else could matter in life?
Sword, poisoned darts, a couple knives. Yes, he was ready. He flinched as his side warned him that his usual stalking gait would NOT be acceptable tonight. Damn. He could still slink, though. It didn't hurt that much. Really, it didn't.
He choose to walk to the target's house, keeping to the shadows that were his only friends now. The shadows had always been a loyal companion, sheltering and concealing him from prying eyes that sought to kill him. It was the daylight that betrayed him.
Close combat was out of the question, though he hated to admit that, but he was a wounded assassin and he had to reach his target. It usually wasn't his style, yet it would suffice. A poison dart here, a guard down. Another here, another down. The other two were taken out just as easily. He would collect the darts later. The less evidence, the better.
Then it was just a hop, skip, and a jump - though he did none of those - to the target's office-like room. He had not even bothered to close the door all the way, making it all the easier for him. He was wary, still, but nothing pointed to it being a trap.
One more dart and -
An arm snaked about his neck suddenly. Light hitting the barrel of a gun. Fuck! What had happened to his amazingly accurate hearing, his concentration?? It couldn't possibly be because he was feeling light headed and his wounded side was pounding horribly in pain, could it?
A familiar whirling sound filled his ears, then a gagging sound as the arm around his neck disappeared as quickly as it had grabbed him. He turned, his eyes wide. There was Youji. He wasn't dressed in his usual "I'm an assassin and damn sexy, too!" clothing, but in the suit he had been wearing earlier. He looked wrong, but he was welcome nonetheless.
"Aya - "
Aya glared him into silence. Now was not the time for a lengthy discussion. Questions later. Take care of the target now. Then take care of all those after-mission annoyances and then his schedule would be clear.
He pushed the door open quietly, his eyes fixing on the traget; he was able to threw one of his poisoned darts with deadly accuracy despite his current state. Target eliminated. He double checked to make absoultely certain of that, then retrieved the dart and the others, as well. Youji followed him like an obediant puppy, saying nothing, only watching him. When they had cleared the premisis he began to speak, but Aya silenced him quickly. Well, he hadn't done it intentionally, of course.
He passed out. Again.