Akuma Hiroshima
The night is slow and cold. The moon is rising high like a hawk. If Akuma closes her eyes, she could almost hear the moon howling against the night. When she enters through the open balcony overlooking the city of Yorkshin, the chilly night air follows her trail. Her footsteps are heavy when she lands on the floor. Her father would be disappointed if he ever knew of her first mistake.
Akuma had hoped that this mission would be easy, that she could get through the heavy hours of the night without any problems, but she's only getting more nervous. Her heart is beating against her chest like a Church bell. Her skin is cold as she takes in the freezing air. She has never been comfortable with the cold. Akuma's eyes linger over the empty room.
The windows are wide open. The curtains are swaying in the direction of the wind. As she enters the room, her feet soak in the lush fabric of the carpets. The bed looks as soft as velvet, and the walls are dipped in deep burgundy. When she takes another step, the floorboards creak – another mistake. Her heart leaps when she hears loud footsteps in the hallway.
No, she thinks. I shouldn't be afraid. I have the upper hand. They don't know that I'm here.
Akuma takes a deep breath to calm herself down. The footsteps disappear in the other direction, probably leading to the staircase. Her father had given her all the details she needs for the job, including the family's tendencies and traits. She's memorized them for over a week, making sure that everything is painted in her mind like a canvas.
Her father also warned her that she should erase every memory she has of her kills. It's to make her life easier, and it's for her to master. Akuma steps out of the room silently, closing the door behind her. She doesn't know whose room she had entered, but she's sure that it doesn't belong to the person she has to kill. The hallways are dark and gloomy. She wonders whether a family does live her, or maybe the house has already been occupied by ghosts.
She lingers in the shadows of the walls, avoiding every trance of light making its way on the floors. She tries to remember what her father taught her: never make a sound; don't think of anything until you've gotten your kill; you are made of air, and you should act like it. She learned a lot of things the past few weeks, but she doesn't know whether any of them could apply to what she's feeling.
She is made of air – heavy and bothered, a thundercloud in the midst of a storm, unable to move away until the last strike of lightning hits the ground. She wonders how long it will be until she becomes lightning itself. When will she strike? And how hard would her attack be?
Finally, she arrives in front of a double door room. This is where her target is. Her first target, her first kill. She clenches her fists tightly, swallowing the vomit down her throat. There's no time for errors or hesitation. Either she kills, or someone kills her. She wraps her black scarf around her, shielding her face. She's wearing all black – black shoes, black pants, and a black t-shirt. Even her hair is the color of a raven's feathers. The only things that stand out are her eyes. It's the color of bright teal, vibrant and shines like a neon light.
Akuma presses the door slightly forward, leaving just enough space for her to slip in. The room – the office – is also dark. But there is a lamp providing little light on the desk. There is a man sitting on the desk, his face directed toward the heaps of papers and articles arranged on his table. He doesn't even seem to notice that there is another presence in the room. Akuma takes a deep breath and makes her way toward the man.
The room is surrounded by shelves of books. Akuma could barely take her eyes off the vast collection. Maybe she could even sneak one out before she goes, predicting that she does her job correctly. Akuma slips her gloves off, and taking in a sharp breath, forces her fingers to sharpen. The veins in her hands protrude through her delicate skin.
As she's nearly three feet near the man, he looks up, alert. His eyes survey the room, and his fingers are shaking mildly with fear. Akuma stops briefly, her heart jumping out of her chest like a firecracker. This isn't supposed to happen. She thought she concealed her presence well enough to go on unnoticed. Now that her plan has failed, her mind comes out blank.
"Who's there?" the man asks, his voice firm, but Akuma could trace the slightest hint of fear. He doesn't her position, so she still has the ability of surprise. She has one opportunity to get this right. And she will. She absolutely has to. "Come out now. If you do, I won't hurt you." The man stands up from his chair, knocking it over. This is her chance.
Akuma slowly walks forward, her body still hidden in the dark. She prepares her sharp fingers to attack. She ignores the way it's shaking so badly, it looks like it's having epilepsy. Her father taught her to erase all the emotions inside her, to be a human composed of a dark void. She leaps from her position, her arm ready to slice the man's head off his spinal cord.
In that one second, the man turns to her, his eyes going wide. Akuma feels herself hesitate for one second, but her fingers are already halfway through the man's neck. His body lands on the floor with a thump. His head is lolling on its side, his eyes still wide open as he stares at her in horror. Akuma's body gives up on all its strength. She kneels on the floor, her chest heaving like she just swallowed an ocean with one breath.
Blood is pooling the floors. It's staining the expensive carpets and the study floorboards. Akuma's eyes stay focused on the blood creeping its way up to her knees. She can't move. Her fingers are frozen. She doesn't know if it's from the cold or the way the man looked at her before she could strike an attack. It was almost as if he just knew what she was.
She's composed of blood that yearns the thought of murder. She's made of cells that exist solely to kill. Her skin is only a fragment of the bones that are hard to break. And her heart is created with a mournful of steel. She's a killer. She was made to be a killer, that's what her father silently told her. Looking at the blood soaking her black pants, she believes it.
Akuma's mind snap open when she hears a trail of footsteps just near the door. She struggles to stand up. Her knees are buckling underneath her. She could barely support her weight. She squeezes the blood off her pants, but she could still feel it snaking its way toward her skin. She pushes the window open, letting the air in. Like the other room, this one also has a balcony.
She jumps on the railing and looks down at the distance from the ground. If she were older, the distance would be no problem, but if she jumps now, she would die. But the footsteps are getting louder. She has to get out now. Thinking of now other way to escape, she slips off the railing. She closes her eyes, feeling like she's falling face first into a void. But she only hears the rough rustling of leaves. Her back isn't even as painful as she thought it would be.
She could hear voices coming from the balcony, then follows a shrilly scream. Akuma only stares at the moon, relieved and afraid that she survived her first fall.
Looking at the man hunched down on her feet, Akuma doesn't know why she's remembering that now. Maybe it's because the situation is far too familiar. She's enveloped by the shadows lurking in the night. She's being haunted by all the ghosts she sent to the otherworld, wherever that is. She always knew that there were souls hidden inside the walls. They're watching her every move. She kicks the man on the side before realizing that he's already dead.
Akuma snaps her gloves on. Oh, well. She was hoping that she could have a bit more fun with her new target, but she always kills in one clean step. Akuma purses her lips as her eyes linger on the drops of blood trailing from the man's neck. Her mouth twitches in irritation when she sees a splatter of blood spilling her combat boots. She wipes it against the man's shirt, and then steps out of the empty alley. The stench of garbage and blood is getting to her head.
When she's walking toward the abandoned street, she feels another person watching her. The hair on the back of her neck begins to stand up, but she calms down when she recognizes the spread of aura burning her throat. She sighs heavily, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glances behind her. "I know you're there," she says, annoyed. "Were you following me even before I killed that man?"
Arata smiles at her innocently, cocking his head to the side, knowing what it will only infuriate Akuma even more. The male is dressed in a black suit, and his hair is slicked to the back. His face is freshly shaven. His suit is crisp, and his shirt is neatly tucked under his pants. Arata is only a few years older than she is, and he's definitely good looking.
"I was only following your father's orders, my lady," Arata replies, nodding his head. "I have no other choice."
Akuma crosses her arms. "I thought I made it clear that I could take care of myself. Does my father not trust me to carry out my missions without getting hurt?"
"I'm sure he has his reasons, lady Akuma. I believe your training still isn't over." Arata gestures to the car parked only a few blocks away. "Would you like to get inside now? I wouldn't want you to catch a cold."
"I could go home on my own," Akuma points out. "It isn't too far, and you know how I feel about being escorted." Despite her efforts to try to at least convince Arata of her capabilities, she knows that he would never agree. Once her father relays the orders, they have no other choice but to obey. Arata doesn't say a word, communicating through his eyes.
Akuma sighs, following Arata toward the vehicle. For some reason, her father doesn't trust her enough to go alone. She knows that he's only doing this for her protection, but she's done this job long enough to master everything she needs to. Her kills are completed with precision. Her attacks are flawless. Her skills are unpredicted. Her power is formidable. So, why can't her father leave her alone?
"Do you think he will ever teach me nen?" Akuma asks the butler.
Arata only glances back briefly. "That is not for me to answer, lady Akuma. Your father's intentions are not my number one priority."
"Of course," Akuma says drily. "And my well-being is more important than yours, I presume?"
Arata actually laughs. "I could take care of myself perfectly, Akuma. You don't need to worry."
"Oh, yeah?" Akuma taunts, challenging him. She squeezes her fists together and brings them to her chest, getting ready to attack. "Then, fight me. Show me what I'm missing. Tell me why my father trusts you, but not me."
Arata's mouth curve into a full smile, amused. Akuma's stomach almost leaps into her heart. Arata has always been attractive, but his smile is something that Akuma rarely sees. She pictures it in her head, wanting to replay it over and over again. Arata pushes her hands down. He opens his mouth to say something, but he snaps his head to the side.
Akuma follows his gaze. To her left, there is a small boy walking toward him. He's dressed in ragged clothes, and his skin is full of scars and blotches. Akuma's eyes soften at the sight of the young boy. When the boy reaches her, Akuma slips her hand into her pocket for change, but she catches Arata's eyes.
"Don't," he says thickly. "You know what you should do when you see a stranger getting too close to you."
She stiffens. "He's not my target." He's just a little boy. He's innocent.
Arata's eyes harden. He looks away. "Does it matter?" he swallows. Akuma scowls at him, her eyes going over the state of the young boy. He's not supposed to die, and she's not supposed to kill him. But there are a lot of things she wasn't supposed to do, and yet she still did it.
With a flash of her hand, she throws a blade to the boy's neck. It snaps backward, and his head clutters to the ground. Akuma can't remember the last time she felt guilty. She lets her blood boil over the dead boy's body before walking toward the vehicle in silence. There are so many things she could do with her hands. Killing isn't supposed to be one of them.
When she gets to her father's "office", her entire expression is blank. The walls are lighted with steeled lanterns. The floors are made of smooth cement. Her home is located under the city of Yorkshin. There are times when Akuma could not see light for a week. Sometimes, she forgets what the sun even feels like on her skin. Right now, her body is sweating. Her father's office is usually so cold, but at this time of the year, the sun is only heating everything up.
Her father – Hiroto Hiroshima – is waiting for her to take a seat. Her father has shoulder length black hair, and a pair of dark green eyes the color of grasslands. He's built like a bull. He could probably crush her face with one hand. There are a lot of things Akuma knows about her father, but she knows none that actually matters. Her father is distant and silent, but during training, she could see a different part of him, a part that's alive.
She's not sure whether she could see that part again. "Father." Akuma bows down in respect. "I've finished the job."
"Yes," her father replies. "I could see that. You did well. Just like you always do." Hiroto gestures to the seat next to him. With a slight hesitation, Akuma sits down. She doesn't say anything. She doesn't even think she's still breathing. Her father never usually talks to her, if he doesn't need anything. The butlers are the ones giving her the jobs she needs to complete.
"I have a new target for you." Hiroto grabs a file from his desk. He hands it to her with a frown. "The job is very . . . peculiar. I don't think you'd like it very much, but the pay could suffice us for over a year."
Akuma opens the file. There is a picture of a gorgeous man clipped to the folder. He has hair the color of wildfire. His skin looks smooth and pale. There is a painting of a star on his right cheek, and a teardrop on the other. But what catch her attention the most are his eyes – it is the brightest shade of yellow.
"Will you do the job?" Hiroto asks her, his voice firm.
She has no other choice in the matter, but even if she does, she doesn't think she could say no. Her voice echoes in the halls before she could even truly decide. "Yes. I'll do it."
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review and/or favorite and/or follow if you like the story (or not)! I'm only continuing this story if I get enough reviews.