The first time she meets him, they are both five years old and her parents have just died.
She's in the Organization's private hospital, after she broke her arm falling down the stairs.
He's there because another kid shot him at shooting exercise ripping his stomach open.
She only catches a glimpse of him as an older agent carries him over to the nurse. His intestines spill out of the wound – so much blood – but she can only stare at his eyes – dead, soulless, dark eyes.
They meet her gaze.
She can't see him anymore, now that he is circled by doctors and nurses.
"I guess your arm has to wait", her tutor says, but she stopped feeling the pain anyways.
The second time she meets him, they are both nine years old.
She's busy studying formulas.
He's busy studying Kanji.
They sit together in the library for two hours until their eyes meet.
She remembers him in an instant – and she can tell he remembers her, too.
"I see you got better", she says in Japanese.
He grins – but nothing reaches his eyes – never the eyes – and she knows those are the eyes of a killer – and answers with a hideous Russian accent.
She does not know for sure what he said.
But it sounded a lot like "Does it still hurt?"
The third time they are both fourteen and stationed in Japan.
She's there to continue her parents' research.
He's there to handle the organization's business in Japan.
She wants to meet her sister when she catches them talking. When he sees her, he just grins and waves. His platin blond hair has grown long, she notices.
She thinks he looks like a girl but at the same time she thinks he's attractive – for a foreigner that is.
The eyes still make her skin crawl, though. She is grateful when he leaves.
"What did that guy want?", she asks her sister once they are seated in the café.
"That's my new superior, Gin."
She doesn't dare ask when her sister adds in a low murmur: "I think he's the devil"
They meet quite often now but they never talk. He just grins and she tries to ignore those eyes.
She's sixteen and a little drunk, when she runs into him in front of her flat. There's blood on him – a lot but she knows it's not his – and his hair covers his eyes.
He starts to look more like a man now, especially with the cigarette.
"Does it still hurt, Sherry?" His accent is nearly gone, but she does not understand. Maybe she'll understand when her mind is less fuzzy.
Suddenly she feels lonely. He's as good as any, she thinks, as long as she does not have to look into those eyes.
So when they do it on her bed, her tights around him – his hands grabbing them hard, her weight pressing him into the mattress – his hips pressing into her – she already regrets starting this in the first place but it's too late to stop now - he says he knows what to do and she snaps at him that she knows, too. She presses her hands on his eyes – hard - so she does not have to see them.
None of them enjoy this, but they do it anyway. When they are finished – as lonely as she was before- she moves her hands away from his eyes and she tells him to leave. He's not grinning and if she didn't know better she'd think he looks hurt – but she does not care, because he leaves and she can cry now.
The whole talk about love and that special first time or whatever bullshit occupies the mind of some stupid teenage girls is just a cheap joke.
Because Gin is a fucking creep of whom even her sister is afraid and she should be too good for him.
Because it wasn't special – just disgusting and painful – her hands hurt so much – and so damn dirty – she has to clean the blood of whatever unlucky guy Gin hat killed before out of her sheets now – and it makes her feel bad for wishing Gin had just fucking died all those years ago.
Because those eyes can't love – and she starts to think that neither can she.
They are both eighteen when she is proven wrong.
Her sister is dead and she knows that she loved her. And she will die, because she isn't like Gin – she will die because she does love.
And Gin will kill her because he does not.
Shiho takes her own poison that day – at least that way, she thinks, she does not have to look into those eyes.