Author Notes:
There's probably a grammar here or there (or everywhere, / my grammar is terrible) This story is set shortly after the series finale (say, two months, give or take).
Rated T for obvious reasons.
Mireille.
Once again, a gunshot echo reached her ears. Kirika turned towards her left, facing a poorly-lit tunnel with no sign of having an end. Missions like these, ones that required her to see mostly with her ears rather than her eyes, were the most dangerous, especially if their enemies were a lot more familiar with the environment than they were. The dim, flickering lights did nothing against the uncertainty, yet there were just enough lights to prevent Kirika's eyes from adjusting to the absence of light. Too bad there wasn't any popcorn around. Not like they would be of any help, though, since they were the ones on the offense this time.
And now, here she was, sealed off within this labyrinth of a sewage system chasing around the rats, some folks that had done something that pissed off their client - she wasn't sure what, and honestly, she didn't think Mireille knew either - who had the sole key in getting out of here.
The only reason they had accepted this job in the first place was because their client had promised over one million, one million, in return for the rat king's head. "A million euros, Kirika!" Mireille had cried. "We could take a... what, four, five year vacation with this money! The target is just an everyday corrupt corporate businessman; we'll get this job done before you know it! A million, Kirika! We could set down our guns and live like normal people for a change!"
Of course, they had considered the possibility of this job being another attempt at getting rid of Noir; after all, they have made many enemies over the years who would probably want to put bullets into their heads. Mireille did mention that their target did have a long history of disagreement with their client, so it was perfectly plausible that the client would have a bone or possibly many bones to pick with the rats. In addition, their client was, in fact, the head of another large crime syndicate and aristocratic family who could have likely either believed that the cost for hiring Noir was ridiculously high or simply had too much money to spend.
Kirika had wanted to shout, "What if our client is the police, luring us out into arrest, or worse, the Soldats, who decided to get rid of us once and for all?! No one pays that much money just to kill one guy, especially some standard-issue criminal scum, no matter how successful we are or how much he hates our target, Mireille! Our client expects us to navigate the sewers by ourselves towards the 'storage room' - that apparently doesn't even exist in the sewers - where we could be ambushed around every corner?! They're using the money to obscure the truth from you, Mireille, and they know it! Please, Mireille! This whole operation has a big neon flashing sign pointing at it saying 'TRAP FOR NOIR HERE'! We've become the dumb mice you used to laugh at on TV who saw the mousetrap but still went in for the cheese!"
Instead, Kirika had stared at the ground in her usual dejected gaze and mumbled, "I don't have a good feeling about this."
Mireille brushed aside Kirika's concerns, assuring her that they would put extra precautions into place before undertaking the assignment. After all, they were the legendary Noir, unofficially the most proficient assassins-for-hire in all of France, carrying out flawless assassinations on all scales from lower-class civilians to high-ranking government officials. A criminal rat hiding in the sewage systems didn't scare them.
And a million was certainly a lot.
But now, locked away with the stinky sewage odor and unnerving silence, Kirika wished that she had tried harder to convince Mireille that this job had to be a bait. Mireille was definitely blinded by greed, and it was up to Kirika to save her before something bad happened. A gunshot echo yanked Kirika out of her contemplations. She gripped her Beretta firmly in both hands and sprinted back silently into the maze.
The gunshots were now sounding in quick succession, meaning that Mireille and the rats had engaged in a shootout. As the shots increased in volume, Kirika could hear the faint sounds of footsteps scurrying along the cement floor. Judging by the bluntness of the sound, she deduced that the footsteps were from their pursuers, rather than Mireille, who knew well enough to never needlessly make loud, obvious noises in confined areas.
Kirika quickly crouched against a wall as the footsteps approached. There were probably three or four men headed her way. She raised her gun up to her chest, poised to strike, and exhaled.
1.
"Division four, division three is arriving for assistance." The footsteps were gradually closing the distance.
2.
"what... are you saying that the intruder is one guy who managed to wipe out three divisions by himself?"
"Herself," Kirika mentally corrected.
3.
Kirika rolled out into the neighboring tunnel, surprising the rat in the lead who carried a large military-grade rifle. A rifle which promptly slipped out of the man's arms and clattered onto the ground as he staggered back in shock.
"WHAT THE F-"
His impending profanity was quickly censored by two bullets from Kirika's Beretta, propelling him backwards into the other three rats. Two of them slammed against the ground and clutched their heads in pain while the third, who recovered quickly, pulled out his pistol and fired a shot, but his poor aim caused his bullet to miss Kirika by miles and splash into the water. A couple of shots later, they too were dead.
Unfortunately, the commotion alerted a nearby squadron to take action. Bullet fire erupted out from the blackness ahead, whizzing past Kirika and missing her body by mere inches. She dove towards the pile of corpses and picked up the rifle that the men had dropped earlier. The bullet shower ceased.
Kirika peeked above her makeshift barricade and squinted, desperately attempting to make out any shapes or shadows in the darkness. Nothing.
It was very quiet. Too quiet. Even the sound of gunfire was preferable to this.
CLICK.
Kirika's eyes widened. She rolled over and raised her rifle up towards the illuminated tunnel intersection behind her, prepared to blast her potential assaulter to shreds.
A silent gasp escaped her lips.
Nobody was there. Kirika quickly peeked her rifle's barrel around the corner where she had hidden only minutes ago. The tunnels were empty and filled with complete silence, except for the steady flow of sewage water and the electricity within the flickering orange LED light. Kirika gritted her teeth.
She knew that she didn't hallucinate the click and that the sound certainly had come from behind her. The brightness of the lamp lit her face ablaze, forcing Kirika to roll back over and rub the fire out of her eyes.
And then she remembered that she was in the sewers.
Kirika leaped to her left just as a bullet screamed by, grazing her shoulder. She stumbled against the wall from the pain and aimed her rifle back towards the darkness. There, located right between her crosshairs stood two figures, both of which had the distinctive outlines of a pistol muzzle in front of them. Two more shots flew past Kirika as she unloaded her entire clip into her opponents, peppering their bodies with holes. The sound of two unceremonious thumps indicated her temporary safety, and she slide back down to the floor, propping her body against the men she had killed earlier. She quickly wrapped her wound with a roll of bandages she carried in her pockets and winced as another wave of pain crashed through her body.
Mireille.
Kirika tucked her legs inwards in an attempt to stand up, but the unbearable pain pinned her down. The waves were now rivers, constantly coursing throughout Kirika's systems.
She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. Once she found Mireille and kill their target, they would be out of this terrible place and the million euros would be theirs. Despite her agonizing shoulder wound, Kirika smiled. She pictured the two of them taking a walk through her favorite park, Mireille in the lead with Kirika following close behind, enjoying the quiet beauty of nature. She pictured herself gazing out from the balcony, staring at the sun peeking above the skyline as the smell of Mireille's cooked breakfast wafted past her into the streets below.
Once again, a gunshot rang far away. Somewhere in this hellhole was her partner, wondering where on Earth Kirika was.
Kirika sprinted down the tunnels, gripping her gun in her good hand while keeping her wounded arm from flailing about. The dim orange lights were now left far behind, forcing her to rely completely on her ears if she were to have any chance at taking out a threat before it took out her.
As she leaped over the streams between intersecting passageways, she noticed a wooden door to her left, across the water on the other side of the tunnel. A soft light emitted from the slit beneath the door, piquing her curiosity.
"Storage," the metal plaque on the door read. This was where their client said their target was located, as well as where Mireille and Kirika had agreed to regroup. She reached for the doorknob with her gloved hand and turned it very slowly. It didn't budge.
"A thumb-turn lock," Kirika thought to herself. She scanned the doorframe, making sure that the hinges were on the inside, and narrowed her eyes. Kirika raised her left foot and kicked the door as hard as she could, causing her shoulder wound to scream out in pain. The door swung open with a bang, revealing seven surprised men sitting around a large table, each with a glowing monitor in front of them.
Three men were taken out before the other four flipped the table over and dove behind their shield. Kirika unloaded several shots as she rolled behind a small desk and quickly upturned it. Her target wasn't among the three dead men, meaning that she couldn't slip away just yet. Blood soaked out from her soggy makeshift dressing onto her arm.
Using her pocketknife, Kirika carved out a small hole in the desk's underbelly and peeped her gun's barrel through it. Three unfortunate men who had exposed their heads received bullets to their faces, dying instantly. Once silence ensued, Kirika silently slipped out of her hiding spot and crawled up to the table. The remaining man's heavy breathing assured Kirika that he had no awareness of her presence.
The last thing the man saw was the muzzle of a Beretta M1934 as his blood burst out of his body onto the floor.
Their target was dead.
Shots rocked the sewage like thunder, much louder than they were before. The remote for the sewer entrance hatch wobbled in Kirika's pocket as she closed the distance between herself and Mireille. Again, blunt footsteps stormed the passageways, this time consisting of dozens of feet.
A loud gunshot rang in her ears, followed by a high-pitched scream. Kirika sprinted faster, ignoring the excruciating pain that re-emerged in her shoulder.
"Mireille!"
The gunshots subsided. Kirika darted into the tunnel on her right and froze. There, at the dimly-lit cross intersection, slumped against the wall in a pool of blood, was Mireille, eyes closed, her gun lying beside her. Tears formed in Kirika's eyes as she stared on in disbelief.
"MIREILLE!"
Bullets rained from every direction as men swarmed the spotlight. Kirika narrowed her eyes and fired six shots, sending five men bucking as their guts went soaring in the air. A man ran towards her with a sword, aiming for her back. Kirika ducked as the man lunged forward and fired a bullet into the man's jaw, bursting the man's face and staining Kirika's clothes with blood and brain bits. She wrenched the sword out of the decapitated man's grasp and disemboweled another assailant before he could fire off a shot. Two men in the distance, struggling to find an opening, suddenly toppled as their heads exploded, painting fireworks on the wall behind them. The surviving men were paralyzed with fear, unable to process the horror that had unfolded before them.
"Let's get the hell out of here!"
Kirika darted behind the slowest man and swung her sword up, bifurcating him from groin to head. She hurled the sword, impaling a man in his stomach; pulled out her Beretta; and proceeded to massacre the rest. Blood flowed into the sewage, staining it red. Bullet shells and various body parts littered the floor.
Short, shallow breaths rasped out of Kirika's throat. As her bloodlust seeped away, her mind cleared and her eyes widened up back into large crimson orbs.
"MIREILLE!"
She rushed back to Mireille and knelt beside her, nudging Mireille like a dog trying to wake up its owner. A bullet hole rested on Mireille's chest, right above her heart.
"MIREILLE! MIREILLE! MIREILLE!" Kirika repeated as she prodded Mireille, pleading for Mireille to open her eyes, to say something, anything.
"Mireille," she whispered, her voice hoarse. Blood and tears mixed together and dripped off of Kirika's chin. Pink flowers bloomed on Mireille's shirt, trickling down her body. Kirika buried her face into Mireille's neck, wrapped her arms around Mireille, and sobbed.
Mireille was gone, forever. Just like that.
She remembered running through the tunnels as footsteps pounded behind her that night. She remembered the howling as blood erupted out of her enemies' bodies.
She remembered crawling out of the sewers, shooting her pursuers dead and using all of her remaining energy in sealing the hatch.
She remembered walking over a bridge two days later, collapsing over the side from exhaustion as she stared at the moonlight glimmering in the water. Where would she go now? The Soldats? Chloe and Altena were dead, and the rest of them would kill her on first sight. Kirika couldn't go back to the apartment, that was Mireille's home, and without Mireille, it was empty. She buried her face into her arms and whimpered.
Mireille was her home.
"You'll take the tunnels on the left and I'll go take the tunnels on the right. Based on our assumptions, the storage room is here..." Mireille drew a circle on the sewer map. "If you or I reach the target first, we'll regroup here..." Mireille circled an entrance to the sewers farther in, "and bail without a scratch. Simple." Kirika nodded with approval, prompting Mireille to smile. Mireille tucked the map away into her pockets and pulled out her gun.
"Good luck, Kirika."
Kirika pulled out her Beretta.
"Good luck, Mireille."
Those had been Mireille's last words to her. Kirika wailed, striking the stone with her fist. Tears streamed down Kirika's face, some drenching into her sleeves and some falling into the dark water below. Why couldn't Kirika have said more?
There was so much more she still wanted to say, needed to say. Words that could express Kirika's feelings for every little thing Mireille and Kirika did together. Words that remained behind a thick fog of sadness and self-doubt, far away from Kirika's reach.
Words that Kirika do not know how to say.
Too much.
The Soldats' pocket-watch slipped out of Kirika's jacket, cracking open on the ground and filling the air with the all-too-familiar melody.
"Please... take care of Mireille." Odette Bouquet's last words, her final request.
You are a liar, Kirika Yuumura. Kirika sobbed. You could have opted to go with her.
Mireille had spent the time to care for her, feed her, know her.
You could have saved her.
Mireille was the only person who saw more in her than just a sublime killing machine. Mireille was a light in the darkness who stayed by Kirika's side, who helped Kirika build a new identity for herself, who gave Kirika the hope that Kirika could feel happiness even under the weight of her countless sins.
And now the light was gone, leaving Kirika wandering aimlessly, purposeless, forever alone in the dark. Alone in a crowd, like how Mireille had described the feeling when they first met.
You knew that this job was a trick, a ruse, and yet you still stayed silent.
She peered down into the river. Her shattered reflection rippled amidst the rolling current.
"Neither you nor I have graves waiting in which to carve our names."
That woman was right. Nothing remained from Mireille's existence except for the nostalgic, suffocating memories she left behind.
"That's our daily bread. In other words, Heaven's blessing. Why don't you eat it as though you're enjoying it more?"
Another scene flashed by. Kirika squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could.
"You are a splendid assassin, and you are a disturbing enigma. Please... get out of my sight. Please... just for now."
Kirika sobbed harder.
"Mireille, let go."
A single tear landed on Kirika's sleeve as Mireille's grip tightened. The look in Mireille's eyes made Kirika's heart drop.
Mireille had forgiven her. Mireille had accepted her.
Kirika smiled softly and lifted her other arm up, catching Mireille's in a firm clutch.
The last remnants of her strength seeped away.
"Shoot me!"
Mireille stood there with her gun pointed at Kirika.
"Shoot me, Mireille!"
Mireille didn't budge. Then, she began to lower the gun.
"Mireille! Mireille!"
Mireille turned around.
"Mireille! Kill me!"
Mireille ignored her cries and walked away, vanishing into the graves.
"Mireille! Mireille! MIREILLE!"
Kirika sunk to the ground and curled up into a tight ball.
"Mireille..."
Don't leave me alone... Mireille...
Kirika lifted her head up. Her eyes stung, bled dry of tears. The world around her faded away as the melody dissipated into the night.
Don't leave me behind in the darkness...
Kirika pulled out her Beretta and pressed it to her temple.
I... I killed you, Mireille. I... need to... to die. I... I...
I can't live... like this... without... without you.
Without you, Mireille.
She closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger.
Kirika gasped as her eyes snapped open. She darted her eyes wildly around the darkness, her breathing heavy and rapid. Beads of sweat covered her forehead, rolling down her cheek and the sides of her face. Was this Hell?
She turned to her left and widened her eyes.
"Mireille!"
There, lying on her side facing away beside her, was her partner. She was dressed in her usual sleepwear, not in a blood-speckled tool vest and blue jeans. Her chest rose and fell in a steady, rhythmic pattern, not in the motionless, lifeless state they had been in before. Golden locks flowed down from her head, pooling onto the bed.
In the blink of an eye, Kirika propped herself up on her forearm and flipped Mireille over, checking her partner's nightgown for any signs of her injury. Her hands came back dry, not warm and sticky with blood. Unconvinced, she lowered her head closer and slid her hand underneath Mireille's shirt, feeling for the hole that had swallowed away her life—
SLAP!
Kirika gasped and jerked her head up, rubbing the now-reddening spot where she had been slapped. Mireille's smooth, slender hand — Kirika often held Mireille's hand while Mireille was asleep; it was one of the many traits the Corsican had that Kirika secretly admired — had stricken Kirika on her cheek. She stared at Mireille, startled and confused.
Then, Kirika's cheeks flushed even redder as she remembered where her other hand was.
"I... Mireille... I... I..."
Mireille's hand jabbed into Kirika's arm and gestured at something in the dark. Kirika's gaze fell onto where Mireille's finger was pointing at and squeaked in embarrassment. She quickly yanked her hand out, flustered, and tried to form a coherent excuse as to why her right hand had been crawling under Mireille's sleepwear fondling Mireille's breasts.
Too late. Mireille straightened her shirt and turned away, slipping back into blissful sleep. Hopefully Mireille would forget what Kirika had done to her by the time she woke up.
Kirika sighed in relief. It had all just been a really bad dream, a nightmare. There was no million euro job, they were still in their apartment in Paris, and most importantly-
Mireille.
Kirika sank back down and slipped her right arm under Mireille's. With a swift pull, Kirika squeezed Mireille close into a protective embrace, melting into the Corsican's back. She nuzzled against Mireille's nape, closed her eyes, and smiled. A single tear squeezed out of Kirika's eye and soaked into Mireille's pajamas. Kirika pressed her lips into her partner's hair and murmured.
"Mireille, promise... promise me... that you won't ever leave. Promise me... that you won't die, Mireille. I... I need you..."
Kirika didn't expect a response, even though her heart yearned desperately for an answer. It was best that Mireille stayed asleep; Kirika feared the false hope that would fill Kirika's mind if Mireille said "Yes". And if Mireille didn't... Kirika grabbed a fistful of Mireille's nightgown and clenched it tightly in her hand. The young Japanese woman suddenly became self-conscious of her close proximity with Mireille and untangled herself out from between Mireille's limbs. Immediately, she began to feel cold, alone and lost once again in the darkness.
"Please... take care of Mireille. I beg you... to lend your great strength to her aide."
Kirika launched herself back towards Mireille at an imperceptible speed and wrapped every part of her body she possibly could around her partner, longing for Mireille's comforting touch.
Even if you won't, Mireille, I will... I promise. Forever.
The first sunlight of the day broke through the window and basked the maidens of darkness with warmth.