Warning(s): Violence, gore, feces
It isn't as if Hanamiya particularly enjoys handling the dirty work, but he cannot deny that there's a grim satisfaction in a job well done when he sees the target gasp as the knife twists in deeper, and then go lax. He releases his grip over the victim's mouth and takes a step back to watch the body collapse to the ground in a limp bundle. With its wide eyes, dilated pupils, and slack-jawed expression, it looks like a puppet with its strings cut. He kneels down to flip the victim onto its back, and checks the neck for a pulse, and finding none, tugs his knife out of the man's kidney in a rough motion. Corpses don't bleed much once their hearts have stopped, so the kill isn't as messy as it could been. Hanamiya's been considerate enough not to get blood all over these pristine, white marble floors.
Hanamiya wipes his blade off with a rag, which he makes note to burn later in order to destroy all evidence. He's careful not to cut himself as he slides the knife back into its satchel. The sound of footsteps herald his comrades' arrival, and Hanamiya is irked by their lack of stealth.
"That was quick, cap'n," Hara comments unnecessarily, fanning himself with his hand and carelessly flicking blood all over his cheek and the long blond fringe that obscures his eyes. The claw-like points of his gauntlet are crimson, no doubt from crushing the windpipe of some poor guardsman. Furuhashi, who accompanies Hara, generally prefers to slit throats instead of crushing them, but even he looks covered in a bit more gore than usual. Perhaps those bodyguards were slightly more formidable than Hanamiya had surmised, but generally, that just meant that their deaths would be slightly messier.
"Or rather, you were just slow," Hanamiya quips back, before signaling his teammates to follow him with a flick of his hand. The duo fall into line behind their guild master with practiced ease, like trained hunting dogs, and allow Hanamiya to lead them to the exit. A stench fills the air, and Hanamiya notices Hara wrinkle his nose before grinning cheekily. Despite it being the natural progression of things, the release of feces is still highly unpleasant. However, Hanamiya thinks that Hara might find it darkly humorous to see their victims shit their pants after they die.
Most of the estate guardsmen are still asleep as the small procession makes its way down the halls. Hanamiya can't help but commend the steadily increasing potentness of Seto's sleeping drugs. To think that a small vial's worth of liquid poured into the communal drinking trough was enough to knock dozens of full grown men into stupor for hours, it's one of the times that Hanamiya truly does appreciate their guild apothecary's latent genius, despite how lazy he may be.
It takes a while before they reach the forest clearing where they'd left their horses, and several times on the way, they had been forced to hide in shadows or take detours in order to avoid detection. Their lowtown garments offer too distinct of a contrast against the embellished robes typical of the capital city's aristocratic sector. While it would be an easy matter to disguise himself as a nobleman and his two accomplices as bodyguards, lavish clothes would be far too noticeable and restrictive for the task at hand. In their line of work, it's probably best not to show your face, in any case.
As he mounts his horse, Hara makes a short comment about how he'll be able to show off his success to Yamazaki when they return to base. Hanamiya doesn't quite pay attention to Furuhashi's reply because he's busy checking that they have all the resources needed to set up camp that night. It's nearly a two day journey between the guild cities and the walled capital, so he and his guild rarely take up jobs so far from home. However, this particularly influential customer was highly effective in his use of material persuasion, and Hanamiya would not be a guildsman if he turned down such lucrative work. "A den of thieves" is what they call his guild, but Hanamiya finds it to be a rather generous title, considering the broad range of jobs that Kirisaki Daiichi is willing to accept. Of course their skills do endear them to a particular niche of work, and thus Hanamiya has found himself killing more often than stealing as of late. Not that he isn't capable of doing both at the same time. Hanamiya is sometimes lucky enough to make off with a piece of jewelry or pocketful of coin, but this time's target is too well known to go pick-pocketing off, much to his disappointment.
Hanamiya knows of every crooked knight and warden from the capital to Ostmount, so he and his men have no trouble passing through the eastern gate, save for the small traffic toll that a guardsman collects with a twisted grin. Hanamiya doesn't deny that a deep breath leaves his lungs once he's out of the capital. He doesn't enjoy having to enter that place, and is even more reluctant to admit that it's his hometown. The oppressive atmosphere that most large cities possess is only augmented by the stink of pollution, and Hanamiya always feels on edge when trapped in by those skyscraping walls. He really hates it.
Camp that night is in a small dip of land hidden from view by surrounding hills, and Hara complains about the cold despite knowing that a fire would be far too conspicuous. In spite of his grumbling, the blond is the first to fall asleep, and Furuhashi follows him into slumber soon after. Hanamiya stays up to keep watch, reading medical documents by the light of a lantern. The rumble of hoof beats alert him to the approach of a troupe of knights on the sloping path above his hiding spot, and he moves quickly to blow out the light and dive beneath his covers in order to hide himself in the darkness. He prays that their horses don't make a sound, and waits with a hand on his knife for the knights to pass.
The thundering of hooves fades into the distance, and Hanamiya thinks that he's safe again for a moment, before he hears the crisp trot of a single horse. "Kiyoshi, what are you doing? You're going to get left behind," a female voice reprimands.
There's a moment of silence before Hanamiya hears a deep chuckle. "Maa, it's nothing. I was just thinking about how exciting it is to finally go out like this. I haven't been outside of the capital in a long time," a man replies. The woman scolds him mildly again, and the both of them gallop off to join the rest of their unit.
Hanamiya crawls out from beneath his covers, takes a moment to think, before deciding that re-lighting the lantern may be too risky. Instead, he opts for resting his back against a saddle bag, letting the chill of the nighttime wind keep him awake. He plays with his knife, stroking his finger over the edges and pressing his thumb against the flat of the blade. His mind buzzes too relentlessly for sleep to overtake him, so he waits like this until morning arrives.