A little different from my usual work, but I've been toying with this story for so long, I had to get it out there, especially since no one has written much about Saya and Train before Creed got involved. As Black Cat is a Shounen Jump manga, there is not much deep emotion as can be expected, so I'm adding the drama, the hurt, the angst, and comfort that this potentially deep story has to offer. I'm sticking to the manga the best I can, but some portion of the anime will also appear, as the anime did try to get some of that deep stuff out there.

Wish me luck, and any advice would be greatly welcome. (This will be a slow update)


Lost Cat

There was a man known across the underworld, a man who possessed a black decorated gun with the engraved symbol XIII "Bad Luck", a man who was one of the most deadly assassins who became legendary. A man known as the Black Cat.

Train Heartnet leaned against the wall, gripping his wounded shoulder. It was the first time he had ever screwed up a hit. The first time that he had hesitated in pulling the trigger and his lack of judgement had caused him to fail, all because the target had a little kid. The small little girl in the target's arms brought back memories, and those memories made him remember the pain. The pain of being alone in this cold and heartless world. Surprisingly, Train realized that he still possessed something that he had thought had died a long time ago. Something which many would consider a weakness in his line of work.

As he felt the blood run down his arm from the burning gunshot wound, a wound he barely felt over the shock of his realization, he noticed a shadow approach him. Glaring up at the person who had dared to come close to him, he was slightly taken aback at the beautiful short black haired woman who looked down at him in concern. Her soft round curious eyes, stared at him as he in turn stared back with his cold and lifeless ones.

"How unexpected..." The woman stated, cocking her head to one side, "so even the legendary assassin gets wounded sometimes..." she smirked, "...Mr Black Cat."

Trained frowned, gripping his shoulder tighter to stem the flow of blood. How did she know? Was she part of the organization? Or was she one of the targets that he missed?

"Come, my place is just round the corner," the woman turned and pointed in a general direction, "I have bandages and first aid, if you are interested."

He sensed no evil intent or malice from the woman, but for some strange reason, he felt that he could trust this strangely dressed woman, and that her offer of aid was genuine. It didn't seem that she wanted to kill him. No she held genuine concern in her eyes.

Nodding his head, he slowly stood, but avoided the offered arm of support that reached out to help him stand. He was not that weak. The woman blinked, and then nodded in understanding, and guided him down the street to her small apartment, which really wasn't that far away at all. It was only across the street.

Once inside the small one bedroom and kitchen-living room apartment, which had the faint scent of sweet milk, the woman gestured to the neatly made bed, "Wait there while I fetch the medical kit and some hot water," and then she was gone, disappearing into the bathroom.

Silently, Train made his way into what was considered the bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed. He still gripped his arm tightly, and only then did he feel the throbbing pain that eluded him earlier. Closing his eyes against the slowly consuming pain, he jumped when he felt cool hands touch his hand, and start to take off his large black leather trench coat. Opening his eyes, he saw that the woman had returned, and was starting to clean the blood from his skin and gun shot wound.

As she worked silently, Train observed the strange woman who had offered him aid so selflessly and had allowed in him in her home, despite knowing that he was a deadly assassin who could kill her the moment she had helped him with his wounds. Not that he was that kind of person; no one had made her his target so he had no reason to kill her, despite her act of kindness. But still...

"How did you know?"

The woman looked at him sharply in confusion, her brows raised in question. She stood and turned to the medical box which was on the kitchen table, and then looked back at him, smiling softly, "With just one look, those in the know would know..." she took out another bandage roll, "...Ordinarily...I'm a sweeper y'know."

Train knew that his face was blank in silent surprise, "Sweeper...?"

She nodded, cutting out a length of the white cotton material, "Yep, I travel around the world chasing criminals. I've been in this city for about a week," she paused smiling, "on vacation."

Train started to stand as she turned to face him properly, her face screwed up in irritation, "Hey! I'm not done dressing your wounds, so lie down!"

Having not laid down once since coming into the apartment, Train was bemused at the order, but he quietly stayed seated and allowed the woman to continue dressing his wounds.

After a long silence, Train voiced the question that was forefront in his mind, "A woman being a sweeper..." He looked straight at the woman, "You must have some special reason?" Like his reason for becoming a cold blooded assassin for the organization. She probably had a dark past like himself, hence she was in such a hazardous occupation.

The woman shook her head, and a large warm grin spread on her face, "Not really. The 'Do-as-you-please-stray-cat' life just suits me, that's all."

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