Life was refreshingly uncomplicated for Soko.

Some might say that life as a mercenary was horribly complicated, full of political intrigue and staying on your toes and outwitting all of the other mercenaries who were anywhere near as good as you. There were no mistakes; missed and wasted shots could cost you your life. You had to be aware at all times, looking for all possible exits the moment you walked into any building in case that was the day that an old enemy decided to get even and set you up.

These people, Soko decided, were simply not cut out to be mercenaries. You could take or leave the politics, she knew from personal experience. Nobody made you care about your targets or the motivations of your employers. Don't ask questions and don't get answers. She was aware, too, all the time, but she also knew how to stop and smell the roses, because she didn't worry that every little old lady at the street corner secretly had a gun in their purse and was just waiting for her to get a little closer.

No, Soko didn't worry about it, because she expected it, and regardless of whether or not they had a gun, she did.

And as for skill, there was no question that Soko was one of the best in the business. If you weren't, you either faded into obscurity or died. Interestingly enough, mercenaries tended to hope for the latter. All hit men die anonymous deaths covered up by wealthy men, but dying at a comfortable old age because you didn't kill well enough was an insult to the profession. Even Soko fantasized about living well into her seventies, only for an old foe to break in and put a bullet between her eyes. That was the way to go, she thought, having lived carefully enough to live that long but having made enough enemies that someone eventually comes knocking.

Toko, her partner, disagreed, but Toko was a little different anyway. Toko, who had come up with their codename "Belladonna," seemed on the surface to be the wrong kind of person to be a hit man. She was soft-spoken, gentle, motherly, and above all, disliked bloodshed. Soko knew better, though. Toko was more complicated than that, which is why they were working together in the first place. She'd always claimed that making enemies was her least favorite part of the job, but Soko couldn't fathom why.

Enemies were good. Enemies meant you did your job so well that somebody hated you. So when they were approached by a sharp-dressing, fedora-wearing man who walked like an assassin and talked of assimilation into a family for protection, Soko was confused.

The proposal went something like this; The Vongola were at the top of the Underworld, so close to the light that the police tended to look the other way when they were involved, and only half out of fear. They had a history of sporadic alliances, suddenly reaching out to another family or upstart group with promises of protection in exchange for absolute loyalty, and then going silent for a few years. This stranger claimed to have come to them on behalf of the tenth generation boss who supposedly had noticed Belladonna's work and wanted them to become part of the family. To have the Vongola interested was flattering, though the fact that the Vongola hit man knew their identity already was worrisome. Soko searched in her memory for somewhere she must have messed up and came up empty, which could only mean that she hadn't made a mistake—he was simply better.

"Operating independently has its downsides," he said smoothly looking quite relaxed as he leaned against the door, though Soko knew he was on his guard. Toko knew, too; it was why she was keeping distance between them, sitting back on the couch with her feet stretched in front of her in case she needed to flip to coffee table. Soko lounged next to her and tried to be discreet when she eyed him for weapons, though it was impossible to tell just by looking if someone was armed if the weapon was hidden. She couldn't imagine he'd walked into an assassin's apartment unarmed.

"Should you get set up, or find yourself outnumbered, your options are limited," he continued, "There's no one to turn to if you're in over your head. You can't afford to make any mistakes."

"We have made no mistakes so far," Soko said, earning a smirk. She wasn't sure if he was smirking at her declaration or her manner of speaking; her Italian wasn't very good. Toko was the better of the two when it came to that.

"As much as we like to pretend it isn't so, we're only human. I'm not questioning your talent; I wouldn't be here if that were up for debate."

"If we become part of the Vongola," Toko said quietly, and he turned his attention to her, "Then we will be dissolved, correct?"

He paused before answering. "Yes. You will have to remove your name from listings, and will only take the jobs you're provided with from the Tenth."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think we're interested." Soko was surprised by her partner's sudden refusal, but she continued, "However, I believe an alliance wouldn't be out of the question."

The hit man tilted his head curiously. "Elaborate."

"We retain our codename and partnership," Toko said, "But we will remove the name from the listings, and instead, you will hire us."

"Ah." The shadow of his fedora hid his eyes, though Soko thought they must have narrowed. "A business woman, I see. In that case, I will have to discuss your terms with the Tenth." Tilting his hat, he turned, opened the door, said, "We'll be in touch," and was gone.

Toko relaxed as soon as the door slid shut behind him, closing her eyes and letting out the breath she'd been holding. "What was that about?" Soko asked, switching to Japanese, and her partner opened one eye to look at her.

"Did you want to join?"

"No."

"Then what are you asking for?"

Soko shrugged. "You made a big deal out of our partnership. You could have just said you'd rather Vongola hires us to do their dirty work."

"It matters to me. I wanted to make sure he was aware of that." Standing, Toko stretched her arms over her head. "I'm getting tired." This she said in English, Toko's way of telling her that the matter was personal rather than business.

"Then go to bed."

"I'm always tired," she said, staring into Soko's eyes purposefully. "I think about quitting a lot."

Soko frowned. "We've already talked about this," she said, "You can't quit. Lifetime employment. You work till you die."

"Don't remind me," Toko said, waving a hand passively and yawning. "Wouldn't that be interesting, though? Working for Vongola?"

Soko rolled her eyes and stood from the couch, heading for her bedroom. "Sounds like a blast."

"Soko."

She stopped. Toko was smiling.

"Do you ever think about it? Quitting?"

She didn't like this about Toko. Toko on the job was fine, Toko around the apartment when they were just enjoying their downtime was fine. But Toko when she started thinking and reminiscing and talking about quitting—what the hell did that even mean?—made her uncomfortable. "No," she said after a long pause.

"Never?"

"Never," she snapped, and then softer, "I'm going to bed."

Enemies, Soko thought, were good. They kept her from becoming complacent, cozy in a life that was honestly pretty quiet when she wasn't killing somebody or trying not to get killed. Enemies were what put bread on the table. Enemies were even what had led her to meet Toko. They weren't a bad thing. Enemies were what made her a hit man through and through, from the moment she picked up a gun to the day she would eventually die. But she had no regrets. She and Toko had talked about it before, how she didn't exactly have a lot of options in life. So enemies were fine. She could deal with enemies.

It was allies that made her uncomfortable.

The hit man from Vongola came back the next night, leaning in their doorway like he belonged there, and said with a great flourish, "Vongola Tenth accepts your proposal and would like to become acquainted with the great Belladonna in person." He gave the details for the next family meeting, and Soko wore her best poker face. Did he really expect them to just walk into the headquarters of the most powerful mafia family alive? If his boss had refused the offer and instead ordered them killed, they wouldn't know until they were in the middle of the room and every gun was trained on them. If he thought they were just going to agree to that, he wasn't giving them enough credit.

"Tell him that Belladonna accepts his invitation."

Soko whipped around to face Toko, who was looking at the hit man with something close to a smile. Toko wouldn't do something stupid like walk in without a plan, she reassured herself. The hit man bowed his head in a farewell and left as quickly as he had come.

"You're not going to ask?" Soko shrugged. "I trust you."

Her partner just smiled.