Life. The word in itself was so simple. But the shit that could taint and annihilate it was as complex as the existence of this so-called 'life'. If you're wondering 'what's with the glum atmosphere,' you'll get it sooner or later.

Death. This word had its similarities to its polar opposite. Simple, yet a mystery. What happens to the dead? You see, this young woman didn't believe in heaven because that would suggest she believed in god. Such a being doesn't exist. If it did then why doesn't the 'Almighty' kill all the assholes and bitches instead of her having to do the dirty work for years?

Oops… Wasn't supposed to say that. Spoiler much. Before you jump to conclusions, the girl was not a psychopath who goes around killing people for fun. No, definitely not. Whether you decide to believe in this is up to you. It doesn't really matter.

Anyway, since she didn't believe in god, she didn't believe in hell. Well kind of. To her earth was hell. Or… Japan was hell; since she'd never been anywhere else. The female didn't mean to be melodramatic in any way but she just couldn't stop her thoughts.

You can refer to this woman as Maemi Shimizu. That was her current identity. Her real name's a secret of sorts. If you're wondering why she chose such a happy name, meaning 'a truthful smile' and 'pure water' it's because the brunette wanted this identity to be a new start. She had created so many 'hers' to murder an asshole and then erased that 'her' after, just to form another to kill again. And she simply didn't want to do it anymore. Who would? No matter how many vulgar humans disappeared new ones were being born way faster than she could kill – without being caught. And they didn't do anything personally to her. Not anymore, at least. So what was the point? Plus she had so much fucking money that it wouldn't matter if she didn't have another job for the rest of my life. If you haven't figured it out already the pale girl was an… what people would call an 'assassin'. She hated that word.

Five months ago she quit. It sounded kind of funny, huh? Just quitting? But it wasn't exactly like that. The youth demolished another last – hopefully, the last – identity.

No. Not because she had accomplished in killing her target but because Maemi believed the man didn't deserve to die. When the dark-haired girl told her contractors this they got very heated. She had no choice but to knock them all out to escape. It's not like they paid her yet or anything so Maemi didn't see why they got mad.

'Just because I said I didn't want too? Seriously?' she thought.

"Get someone else to fucking do it then." She told the masked people even though it didn't really appeal to her.

"You signed the contract!" the leader bellowed slowly as if he was talking an idiot. "If you refuse that means you're violating our rules!" he gave a look to his right-hand man. Or men since the others stepped forward too.

She, Shoko Rikiishi, at the time gave a snort that resembled laughter, "What? Going to kill me, are you?" she drawled with boredom, "I don't think you get how this goes."

"No! You!" he pointed, "Don't understand how this goes, child!" spat the boss.

"Don't interrupt me," she ordered dangerously. "You see." The girl threw back on her calm mask even though she could have ripped out his voice-box then and there. "Your target is strong. So strong you can't deal with him yourself." The rage she had to contain was slowly etching away from the expression of the man in front of her. Anger, hate and fear. "That means you need someone that is stronger than you… which is where I come in." She reminded them all with a smug smile that was just as fake as her name. Though, the young woman made sure to match her eyes with the falseness. And at her words, she saw the group recoil slightly.

"Don't be so arrogant," the leader snapped at her. "You really think you can win against all of my men?"

"You're the one being arrogant." Trying to relax was difficult due to the fact Maemi/Shoko didn't feel as brave or confident as what she sounded. "What? There's only eight of you. Don't go thinking you're tough because you're not. If I was up against the Awakusu-kai then I'd be in trouble." she forced herself to say.

Shoko saw the enraged face of the boss and would have laughed if she wasn't in such a dire situation. At the man's word to attack, the seven underlings advanced. Shoko hopped from the seat she was in just as a heavily foot sunk into it. The sound of the wood cracking could have been the woman's bones. She took a breath in to calm herself.

Maemi reverted from her memory and glanced up from her double shot latte. She still was surprised that she escaped. She had a few cuts, bruises, and a broken arm but other than that she was absolutely fine. The woman picked up the mug with both hands causing the long sleeves of her cream knitted sweater to fall from her scarred wrists. The scars wrapped around, they seemed to be painfully layered and stretched out. Quickly taking a sip, her eyes connect with a teen boy. 'Eyes off, buddy. I'm too old for you.' He must have read it all over her face since he turned away. She wasn't in the best of moods. But at least this allowed her to think more. Letting all the thoughts, she didn't permit herself to finish in the past, wash over her made it easier to stop them again.

Believe it or not, in the woman's years of being an 'assassin', Maemi had broken many contracts when she didn't agree with them. And in the place that she had broken her contracts, the most was Ikebukuro, the city she was currently in. Sure there were a few worthless people around but so far she didn't see anyone who really deserved death.

So, it was alright. Her life was finally looking kind of normal which was nice. The girl with many identities never got to have it. However… even though it was over, and she wouldn't have anything got to do with someone's death ever again… it was still there. The feeling of sinking sharp objects into a living being. The smell of rotting flesh. The sight of clotted blood. She'd never be able to run away from it. And that was okay. Because she deserved it, Maemi or whatever the fuck you wanted to call her knew she did. She was just as revolting as the people she had killed. The female even kept the flip blade, which belonged to her first victim, on her at all times. It was a dull shaded blue and a dark metallic grey that perhaps was shiny and reflective once, though she had never seen it like that. The flip knife was the curved kind that the user held what the woman called the proper way; having the blunt side of the blade against the outer side of the forearm. The image of blood dripping from it appeared in the unknown woman's mind.

She took another sip of coffee trying to ignore the memory. The taste wasn't very good. The coffee she served at her part-time job was way better. It's just she didn't want to get her latte there because then she'd have to pull the innocent girl out. A nineteen-year-old, no less than utterly respectful. 'Maemi Shimizu' was the nice girl that people cared about but never really got close to due to her reserved and introverted nature. It was the ideal situation for the young woman to live somewhat peacefully.

Sure, her job wasn't necessary but it made her look normal and not to mention it gave her something to do. She only had four shifts a week but that was enough.

Maemi took a last sip of coffee; there were grinds at the end. 'How pitiful. How hard is it to check your bloody coffee bean grinder! No wonder why it tasted so burnt.' She thought with annoyance. Sighing, the girl stood up and headed for the exit only to be blocked by a familiar face.

"Hello!" The boy exclaimed cheerily, "I see you didn't like that latte of yours. How 'bout I take you somewhere nice?" His hair was neat in a dark shade of blonde which was quite strange, dyed of course.

His presumable friend, who was looking at her before, sweatdropped, "Masaomi, that's not-" he cut himself off.

Maemi smiled kindly at Masaomi Kida, the ex-leader of the yellow scarves. He was one of the woman's targets what felt like ages ago. But when she discovered his identity she refused to kill him. Knowing he was just a kid who didn't even do anything that bad made her do so. Not that he knew any of that.

"Sorry, but I don't think that's very appropriate," Maemi said gently.

"Why?" Kida asked, "Oh I get it! You already have a boyfriend, don't you? A pretty lady like yourself, of course, you do!" he winked with a smile.

The boy's flirty behavior was getting on her nerves a little but she held it back. He had a sweet heart after all. "No, actually."

"Really?" Kida said unbelievingly. "Wow! That's really surprising!"

She continued her smile, though it now looked somewhat sad, "Thanks for the offer, but maybe try to aim towards your age group next time, 'kay?" The woman was half-heartedly pulling on and off Maemi.

"What? Come on, you don't look a day over eighteen!"

"I'm nineteen," she lied. In truth, she was actually twenty-two. At least she thought she was. The years were kind of… blurry. "And eighteen isn't in your reach. Try at least sixteen." She advised with a smirk. "Bye." She said coolly ruffling his hair on the way out of the café.

Masaomi Kida sat down to where his friend was. He didn't like that smirk of her's, it reminded him of someone.