Personally, I've never enjoyed mornings. Probably caused by my previous occupation, I went out on morning runs and training whenever I need to, but yeah. I've never enjoyed it. While I didn't dislike the feeling of the cool morning air hitting my face while I go all out on the asphalt, there was something about the way the light seemed to spill from the silvery clouds that made me feel quite sluggish and lethargic.

And in this particular morning, when the skies glistened a pale blue as the sun took longer than usual to illuminate their splendor, such a feeling of uselessness was even more prevalent. What could I do? It was a physiological reaction.

The morning breeze carefully crept up along the bowels of the firmament, its gentle touch caressing my skin like a mother caring for her infant. Spring had truly come, that was for sure. I was glad the coat I used today was thick and warm.

The sound of a bouncing ball graced my ears, the tone of taut rubber hitting cool asphalt nostalgic. I smiled, looking at the rambunctious little scamps as they drove the ball into the inside court and shot with amateurish form. Seemed like it was only yesterday since I played with all my friends in the orphanage.

My legs carried me over to the crosswalk at exponential speed, hurrying past the kids playing basketball. I couldn't be late.

Walking the streets of this city, I could really spot the differences between the city I used to operate in and the capital of the Rising Sun.

Tokyo sure is different from New York, I thought to myself. The streets are just a little bit busier, the people, a lot more hurried and purposeful. But the subway, well— nah, scratch that. Even the cleanest nook in New York's subway system would look downright dirty if you compared it to Tokyo's underground railroads.

Yawning, I continued my advance into the depths of the subway stairs, readying my subway card as I did so. I looked around.

The station, while well-lit, seemed ever so slightly dark at the time. Tiles covered the walls and the floor, the uniformed attendants and police officers ever so vigilant in their stations. With spring break still in the air, there were many people my age, all sporting clothing that agreed with the East's eclectic fashion sense. Some were in bright overalls, some wore dark leather, some wore nothing but denim, all in all, it was decidedly normal. But something about this day made me uneasy. Something about it was wrong.

Under the harsh artificial light of the underground station, I fumbled for my wireless earbuds, the black plastic container that covered them revealing a set of small, black earpieces that followed the contours of the human ear. They weren't the newest AirPods, but they did their job admirably well.

With the deceptively complex main guitar riff of the song I chose blasting through my ears, I calmly waited for the coming train.

"I shouldn't be that late. I should check how I look."

Quickly booting up my phone, I immediately slid it to the right, activating the camera function. A single input later, my face was revealed in all its glory.

Yep. Small nose, small eyes, cheekbones that were as prominent as Van Gogh during his time period, I looked Japanese all right. If my colleagues were to be believed, a pretty good one at that. The only visible hint that led to the other half of my lineage were my eyes. They were brown, seemingly as rich and deep as hazel, or so my friends say. Subtle, but it spoke about my Western roots better than any word I say in English.

My hair was cropped short this time anyway, so there was no need for me to fix it any longer. Satisfied, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my long, green coat after checking the time.

"10:00 AM. I ain't late. I did pass the entrance exam for Taisho Academy, but I hope I ace this interview."

My train of thought was disturbed by the sudden rush of incoming wind, no doubt created by the coming of the speeding subway train. Instantly, synapses forged within the heat of battle and the crucible that was extensive training counted all possible exits and cameras with rapid efficiency, my eyes honed for precision shooting easily enumerating the number of police officers in the area. Something was about to happen. Something bad.

I instantly shook my head. "You're a civilian now." I whispered to myself.

Force of habit, I guess.

I should've listened to my instincts right then and there.

"—?!"

The shadow of a large figure sent alarm bells ringing right in my head, making me turn almost immediately. But it was to no avail.

I was caught off guard.

Death came not through a bullet nor a hidden knife, but through a casual push as I turned to face my assailant.

Everything slowed down. Such were the effects of adrenaline, coursing through my veins with the aplomb of premium fuel being fed through a Ferrari's engine.

It was an old colleague of mine. Fair of hair and complexion, large in frame, he was the best hunter the Organization had to offer in situations like these. My sudden desertion, a crime he was usually sent to deal with, guaranteed his arrival here, and with it, my death. His chiseled features remained impassive as he gazed at me, still as cold and as emotionless as ever. But I could see through his facade. He didn't want to do this. He was close to tears himself.

Instead of anger, instead of despair, I felt nothing. It was something beyond professional courtesy. It was mutual respect between one friend to another. He had no choice. And besides, at the time...

All I wanted was a second chance. But if I couldn't get it, I could settle for this. This would be a fine outcome as it is. To wash my entire being clean and consign myself to a fate of non-existence, I guess that would be peaceful in a way.

After having spent most of my life in this dirty side of the world, it would be shocking if the prospect of death still scared me.

A single tear rolled down my assassin's eye as he saw the smile that slowly graced my cheeks. I could understand what he was feeling. The Organization wouldn't give him a choice. We were bought by them from a young age, since the Organization liked their orphaned agents young. Made them easier to train and inculcate. We had no other place to go.

And with him having found a family he can come back to… I was happy for him.

Having been caught off balance, I flew into the air immediately, right into the path of the subway train. Asking for help was futile. It was too sudden of a stimulus, too uncommon of an occurrence for the people to act. Not that it was even possible to stop a moving train with just sheer human strength and ability.

In those final moments, I felt the release I sought. The peace I wanted. Memories filled my line of sight. Death. Death. And more death. Either caused by me, by my colleagues, or by my enemies. Senseless murder, done only for coin. It was the only thing I knew how to do.

But before she died, she ordered me to do something for her. One last order, not as a case officer to her agent, but as a foster mother to her wayward son.

"—Live. That's the only way you'd learn the meaning of life."

"I'm sorry, Erica. Looks like I'd be joining you soon." I thought aimlessly, before closing my eyes.

—I was going to die.

Suddenly, my vision went completely white as a pulsating sound reverberated through my ears. It overpowered everything. The sound of people screaming, the roar of the coming train, even the announcements made by the conductors as they announced the lines and their destinations.

Confusion overtook my train of thought, but not for long.

—I knew I was going somewhere, but I never thought it would be right in the crucible of battle.