Who Am I The Ruler Of?
My alarm clock blares and I jump. Groggily, I swing my legs over the side of the plush bed onto the floor. I press buttons at random, trying to turn off the alarm, while also winding my hair into a bun with my hair stick that was passed onto me from my mother's side of the family, only to fail and turn on the radio. The static noise further disorders my already jumbled thoughts. I trudge to the bathroom and slowly open my eyes to get used to the blinding lights.
I squint at the disheveled stranger in the mirror. My once sparkling emerald-green eyes now have dark circles and black bags underneath them, and my hastily-made bun of shoulder-length auburn hair could give a bird's nest a run for its money if only it had a bird and an egg or two to complete the look. How much a person can change in a week.
'Failure. You are a failure. You failed that mission. You failed to kill that man,' my head tells me.
'I did the right thing by not killing him,' my conscience retorts.
While my head and conscience throw barbs at each other, a bitter smile reaches my lips.
'I have to go to college today,' I think, 'Ah, what was my excuse to skip last week again? Right- I had a severe case of whooping cough and my ears started bleeding.' The association that I worked for had conveniently pulled a few strings to make my frequent absences work out.
'Failure. Failure. Failure…' My head chants.
I try my best to push these thoughts out of my head and quickly go through my daily routine.
Shortly after, I look again at the mirror to see a different stranger- a frail, innocent, naive Japanese girl. That twenty-one year old Kinomoto Sakura girl, a Stanford student who always sits in the back, next to the classroom windows. That girl who no one would ever suspect of being one of the world's most wanted assassins.
I hear my cellphone ring, and I go back to my room to pick it up.
"Agent K!" It's my boss. "What the fuck did you do last night?"
"I failed," I deadpan.
"I already know that!" he screams.
"Well that's what I did, sir," I reply as I scan my empty apartment style dorm. It is the only source of freedom I have. No parents to micromanage me every passing second. No dorm mates to waste my time. No one to make decisions for me. No one to tell me what my destiny is.
"I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOUR INSOLENCE, K! We will meet up soon to discuss when you can complete the mission. Are you available?" I snap out of my reverie.
"No. I have to get to school early today so that I can get my missed work from the teachers. I still have to keep my cover up here," I respond, while making myself comfortable on a luxurious armchair in my bedroom. I catch a muffled grunt of disapproval on the other end of the line before I hear a distinct click, marking the end of the conversation.
I push myself out of the chair to make myself a warm cup of black coffee in the kitchenette set a few feet away from my bedroom. I have a gut feeling that I'll need to stay up the rest of the day. While tiptoeing to a wooden bar stool with a coffee mug filled to the brim with black liquid, I waft the strong scent. One foot away from my desired destination, I decide to display my trademark skill: tripping over absolutely nothing. Thinking quickly, I twist my body, let go of the coffee mug, only to catch it with my left hand, and save every drop of the aromatic beverage before it could have splattered and met its sorry fate on the cheap hard-wood floor.
Yes, I'm probably the clumsiest person to have ever graced the surface of the Earth; but I make up for this disadvantage with my impeccable reflexes and speed.
After three minutes pass, I wash my cup in the sink along with a clean plate and fork, dry them, and then put them on the drying rack. I walk regally back to my dark room and position myself to the right of the door, so that I am between the swinging range of the door and the corner. Soon enough, I hear a soft click and sense the front door of the apartment open. Soft padding sounds increase in volume as they approach my door. Suddenly the intruder halts; but then continues once again in the same direction.
I am not an idiot. I do not need someone looking after me like I am a sick girl. I am not weak. I do not need orders- especially from the corrupt and the hypocrites. I am not a marionette.
I smirk. This is what I have been waiting for.
The door to my bedroom deliberately creaks open, bringing in a bit of light, allowing me to see the shadow of the individual. Once he peers into the room, I read the body language of his shadow, figuring out that he has a gun, which he puts inside his coat pocket once he relaxes.
My wolfish grin widens. Bad move.
I step out from behind the door and greet the infiltrator, "Why hello! What a pleasant surprise… Boss."
My boss spins around to meet my knowing eyes. Fear overcomes his face, as he fumbles with his coat to recover his gun. It is all futile though.
There is a soft thump of a body dropping onto the floor as my hair unfurls around me.
"Yes, I put those dishes on the rack so that you would think that I already left for school. Yes, I knew your plans to come into my dorm to kill me later on. Yes, I failed on purpose last night. Oh, and you know, you should never wear your emotions on your sleeve, Boss. You always used to tell me that," I glance at the corpse, smirking; then I saunter to the bathroom to wash the blood off my thirteen inch venom tipped hair stick.
As I cleanse the family heirloom of the sticky blood, I glance at the mirror once again, this time surprised not to see a stranger. I scrutinize the cold, emotionless, yet free eyes, only to find myself.
This is who I am.
No one else can determine my destiny.
I am the ruler of myself.