Nanako picked at her finger nails, taking a glance at her watch before returning her eyes to the door across from her. She was seated in the fire escape directly opposite the back exit of a club she'd already forgotten the name of. She drummed her fingers against the iron grating, impatient to get on with her night.
Her target, Tanaka something, a 5'11" short-haired brunette with brown eyes and a scar above his right eyebrow. His name wasn't really important, she knew his face.
The metal door swung open, and she perked up. There he was, Tanaka whatever, slipping a pack of cigarettes outs of his pocket and strolling away from the door.
Nanako sat up, leaning forward onto the balls of her feet. If he'd just walk a little further, to just below her perch...
He slipped by her, and she jumped lightly over the railing. Her feet hit the ground with a muted thud, and the Tanaka tensed. He turned around, eyes wide, but was met only with the sight of a smooth palm. Then he crumbled.
Nanako's fingers twitched, hand an inch from his face. He'd dropped to his knees as soon as she cast her illusion. A pained groan crawled out of his throat, and her fingers tightened further. She could taste his pulse on her tongue, rising every second. She focused on her cast, looking into the man's conscious as the nightmare ripped through his mind.
That was her curse, or gift as her employers said, to enter someone's mind and pull out their one true fear. To amplify it tenfold and tug on the threads of their sanity.
Her mother called her a demon. As a young girl that had mortified her, but now she smiled. It was an apt title really- she trapped people in their worst nightmares until their sanity snapped or their heart gave out. Usually their heart stopped, but sometimes when she'd pull back their eyes would be wide open, their heart beating but their mind gone. Their eyes were like black holes and that scared her more than a cold body.
Tanaka wheezed and slumped to the ground. She sensed his pulse go flat, and she relaxed her fingers, stepping back. He was dead, and she needed to leave. She pulled out a small black flip phone, snapping a single picture of the body. She went into the phone's contacts, selecting its single address. A few clicks, and the photo was sent.
As she turned on her heel and left the ally, she shivered as she thought of his nightmare. Every illusion she cast, she saw in her mind's eye. Even though she never knew what the dream would be till her power had seeped in and plucked out that one horrible thread from the back of their mind and tugged.
She felt their terror and she despised it.
She could hear Tanaka's screams in her mind as he burned to death. Pinned to the floor as the flame crept ever closer, teasing his sleeve before slithering up his arm, burning into his skin. Then further, to his chest, his legs. She could feel the reverberations of his pain in her bones, making them tingle under her skin. He wasn't the first one to dream that, but she still disliked it now as much as the first time she'd created it.
She waited till she two blocks away to smash the phone, tossing it into the nearest dumpster. A few minutes later her PDA pinged, and she pulled it out to see a bank notification. She opened it with tired eyes, noting the correct amount and pocketing the phone.
She hated her job. She hated who she was. But when her only talent was inducing horror, her options weren't plentiful. She needed a way to live, to buy food and pay bills and stay above water.
She'd been told more than once she unsettled people. Again, she thought this was understandable. She'd never been encouraged to pursue the arts of social etiquette, always it had been how far could she go, how far could she throw the mind beyond disrepair.
The bus pulled up just as she reached the bus stop, and she swiped her PDA to board. She sat down in the back, letting out a huff as she pushed back the pieces of black hair that had fallen free of her bun.
Nanako was a strain, and her mother had abandoned her soon after realizing. The first time she'd accidently trapped her mom in a nightmare, the woman had chocked it up to a dream and moved on. The second time it happened, Nanako, even as a small child, had noticed the suspicion and distrust that'd entered her mother's eyes whenever she looked at her. The third time it happened, the time that sent her mother to the hospital for a week, her mom had gone to the Gold King, begging him to take her.
She'd spent her childhood in a lab, playing guinea pig for Mizuchi Kōshi, along with a number of other young strains. Just the mention of the Gold Clan still gave her chills. Her escape had been the culmination of months of careful planning. Throughout her childhood, she made sure to never bring attention to herself, to establish a reliable reputation. As she grew older, she was given more privileges, and after months of patience those privileges gave way to an opportunity to escape. That said, the half dozen Usagi members she'd left in a vegetative state during her dash for freedom had put even more of a target on her head.
She went underground, associating only with those that would absolutely not associate with that cursed clan. Mostly criminals, since the Gold King's influence crept into almost all of the country's legal industries. She'd started doing just information extraction, then slowly escalating to where she was now, a cheap killer, taking hit jobs from low lives to take out men who were even worse than them.
As soon as the bus got to her stop some time later, she dipped into the pocket of her long black coat, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her pocket. In a few sharp movements she had it lit, smoke curling into her lungs.
Her falls of her boots were muted by the wet pavement, making her way home through the dark. She reached the filter on her cigarette, dropping it to the ground and going into her pocket for another.
She'd just lit her second cigarette when the sound of something crashing to the ground drew her attention. Her eyes went to the alley to her left, eyes peering into the dark. She could just make out two people, standing over what she could only assume was a third person. Despite it not having anything to do with her, she slipping into the dark alley quietly, inching closer to the scene before her.
Her assumption had been correct. Two boys, one short and lean while the other was taller and heavy-set, loomed over a man curled up against a dumpster, clearly trying to put as much distance between himself and his assailants.
"I heard you've been pushing drugs to kids in our territory," the shorter boy hissed, and Nanako noticed the metal bat in his hand twitch.
She let out a breath through her nose. Unfortunately, she recognized the man on the ground. He was the third in command of a yakuza group she regularly carried out hits for. He was a piece of shit, but his organization payed half her rent each month and if he died the group would be incapacitated for at least a few weeks. Her bills were due next week, and taxes were due next month. As much as the idea of him tricking kids into doing drugs made her lip curl in distaste, she liked her apartment.
Now, Nanako was capable of defending herself. Part of her years under Mizuchi had been spent learning self-defense and offense. She had a number of knives tucked into her cloths in various different places, and the competence to use them effectively. But it was two against one, and the heavy-set one was notably larger than her. So, strategy in place, Nanako slipped forward. The shadows of the alley concealed her movements, until she was inches away from the taller of the two men.
She leaned forward, passing her hand over his head before slipping back into the shadows. She felt her power seep into his mind, could feel it picking through his brain matter. She knew the moment it found its target, because the tall blond stiffened. She had no intention of killing him, or even knocking him unconscious. She just needed him incapacitated.
The blond fell to the ground with a thud, a first scream tearing up his throat just as he hit the pavement. His hands fisted in his hair, another pained scream coming out of him.
"Stop! Stop!" he cried, rolling on the ground.
"Eh? Kamamoto!"
The shorter boy turned, wide eyes taking in his downed partner before scanning across the alley. He couldn't see much of anything in the dark, but he felt the air shift behind him momentarily. He spun back around, met only with a smooth palm and a flash of dark red eyes.
Nanako's brow furrowed as the boy struggled to stand, mind stronger than she'd expected. She focused her energy, sending a strong wave of illusions through his mind. Finally, he fell to his knees, but Nanako kept her hand in place over his face, not willing to risk him breaking free until she knew he was good and trapped.
Finally, a pained wheeze escaped his throat, and Nanako removed her hand as the first pained sob bubbled out of him. The blond was still screaming, clutching his head desperately. The brunette by her feet cried quietly, frozen still at her feet. She turned, eying the yakuza with distaste.
"Chisaka," he gasped when he finally saw her face, though the men screaming in horror at her feet had been a pretty good indication of who his savior was.
"Get up."
He scrambled to his feet, leaning against the dumpster as he cowered before her.
Nanako scowled, "Get out of here. Tell your boss he owes me a favor."
He nodded, taking off for the mouth of the alley. Her eyes drifted back to the men at her feet, finally letting her conscious delve into their minds. She picked the brunette first, letting her eyes slip shut as she stepped into his nightmare.
She didn't recognize the street they were on, or the dark-haired boy flying at the bat-wielding brunette. She did recognize the blue uniform the bespectacled boy was wearing though, and her back went stiff. With practiced ease, the Scepter 4 member threw a half dozen knives at the beanie wearing boy, each one landing with a sickening wet sound.
One knife ripped the neck of the boy's shirt, causing it to hang open around his collar bones. Nanako bit the inside of her cheek at the familiar flame insignia carved into his skin.
Her burgundy eyes snapped open, eyeing the shivering boys at her feet with new eyes.
"Fuck," she groaned, turning on her heel and running. She just had to go and fuck with the Red Clan.
"Yata-san! Wake up!"
Yata's eyes snapped open before squeezing shut just as quickly, head pounding and body aching. Pain throbbed from where Saruhiko had stabbed him over and over, and his eyes swept over his dirty cloths, looking for where blood had been seeping through them before. He was met only with the sight of clean cotton, the occasional smear of dirty marring the overwise clean fabric.
"Are you alright, Yata-san?" Shouhei leaned over the vanguard, wrapped a hand around the skater's biceps to help sit him up. Yata cradled his head in his heads, willing the throbbing pain to go away. When he finally forced his eyes fully open, he saw Shouhei staring worriedly down at him. He looked behind him, seeing Bandou and Dewa still trying to wake Kamamoto.
"M'fine," Yata brushed his hand off, staggering to his feet.
"I don't think he's waking up anytime soon," Dewa informed, and Bandou nodded his agreement before taking one of the blonde's arms and slipping it over his shoulder. Dewa mirrored him, and together they hefted Kamamoto up. Shouhei stuck close to Yata, ready to catch him if he lost his footing.
"How'd you find us?" Yata asked, wincing as his head gave a particularly painful throb.
"You guys never came back from patrol last night. We've been looking for you all morning," Shouhei frowned in concern as Yata stumbled, "What the hell happened?"
That's what Yata would like to know. One second, they'd been about to beat the shit out of that low life yakuza, then the next second Kamamoto was screaming then his world went dark.
Yata froze, nearly causing Bandou to crash into him, his grip on Kamamoto slipping for a second.
"Oi, Yata, don't just stop-"
"There was someone there."
They all paused, looking at the vanguard. Yata's fists clenched as he remembered a smooth, pale hand and a pair of unsettling red eyes peering at him through the darkness.
"Someone did this to us."
"Eh?" Bandou reeled back, "Someone attacked you?"
"We need to get back and remote to Mikoto-san," with that Yata set off down the sidewalk at a slightly faster pace. The others shared a glance before following.
Surprised eyes looked up as the door to bar HOMRA was swung open loudly, Yata stumbling forward as he stepped through, though he managed to catch himself.
"Yata-san, seriously don't push yourself like that!"
"Shut up!" he yelled back, the sudden spike in volume making him clutch his head as it throbbed violently.
"What the hell happened?" Kusanagi asked as he came out from behind the bar to help Bandou and Dewa lay Kamamoto down on one of the couches. Yata threw himself down on the other couch, eyes clenched shut.
"They said someone attacked them," Shouhei pipped up, making Izumo frown in concern.
"In our own territory, are you serious?" Chitose growled, refraining from pushing closer to the two clearly uncomfortable clansmen.
Izumo looked down at their vanguard, concern in his eyes, "Did you see their face?"
Yata scowled, crossing his arms tightly, "No."
A groan brought their attention to Kamamoto, the blonde's eyes clenching before opening. A short, horrified cry spilled out of him as he flew up, unfocused eyes looking around wildly.
"Kamamoto-san! It's just us!" Shouhei cried as the blond swung his arm out blindly, almost smacking Bandou.
Kamamoto stopped, breaths heavy and eyes shut once more, one hand rising to clutch his head.
"Head hurts like a bitch, right?"
Kamamoto looked up at Yata, the brunette looking as miserable as he felt.
"Yata-san? What happened?"
"That seems to be the question of the hour," Izumo mumbled, shooing away the members who had clustered around the couches and going back to the bar to fetch the them glasses of water. He'd just put them in his two downed comrades' hands when he heard a door open above him. The sound of heavy boots hitting hard wood echoed through the quiet room. Finally, the door to the right of the bar opened, and Mikoto walked out, eyes already locked on Yata and Kamamoto.
"Mikoto-san!" Yata jumped up, "Someone-"
"I know," the red-head cut him off, sitting down at the bar.
"Oh?" Izumo raised a brow, walking back across the bar and slipping behind the wooden countertop. He pulled an ashtray out from one of the shelves under the bar, sliding it to Mikoto just as he finished lighting his cigarette. The red-head nodded in thanks.
"Did you sense something last night?" Izumo pressed, and Mikoto sighed but nodded, taking a long drag.
"For you to have sensed it, it must have been connected to the Slate. A strain then?" Izumo speculated.
"Most likely," Mikoto drawled back, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette into the ashtray.
"What strain?"
All eyes swung to the door, where stood Totsuka with Anna gripping his hand. They'd just returned from a walk through the park, to keep the young girl's mind from worrying too much about her then unaccounted for clansmen.
"The one that apparently roughed our boys up last night," Izumo tilted his head to the couches, where Kamamoto sat with his head in his hands and Yata sat fuming.
"What happened?" Tatara asked in concern, letting Anna slip free from his grip to go take a seat at the bar. He walked over to the couch and kneeled beside Kamamoto, brow furrowed.
"It-," Kamamoto stopped talking abruptly, jaw clenching as another wave of pain washed through him. He released a breath through his teeth before starting again.
"It was like the worst nightmare you could imagine, but real and with no way out."
Tatara's brows shot into his hairline at the explanation. He turned to look at Yata, but the skater refused to meet his eye.
"Yata?" he pressed, and the brunette tsked.
"Yeah, something like that."
Nanako made a point to stay clear of the Red Clan's territory for the next few weeks, even though her apartment was just two blocks outside their territory. She'd had to start taking ridiculous routes home, just to make sure she steered clear. She'd noticed an increase in patrols around the Red Clan's territory since the night she attacked two of its members, and while she was annoyed she couldn't say she was surprised. After all, they were a clan whose bonds ran thicker than blond. An attack on one was an attack on all.
"I'm such an idiot," she groaned, kicking angerly at a dirty piece of newspaper under her boots. She should have scoped out the two more before jumping to cast an illusion over them. Now she had the Red Clan breathing down her neck and that really wasn't something she wanted in her life.
She had another assignment, one she'd made sure was in neutral territory but that still went a little too close to the Red Clan's turf for her liking. She was to take out a man who had been having an affair with the wife of some high up in one of the larger Yakuza groups. She thought it was an absolutely petty reason to have someone killed, but she wasn't one to complain. Work was work.
She was told the man was a low-level employee for a rival gang, and he could be found most nights in one of the VIP rooms in a strip club called Kyandirando. Nanako rolled her eyes every time she thought of the name.
She was hardly dressed for a club, her outfit almost always consisting of her long black trench coat and black utility boots, paired with tight black jeans and a black or grey sweater. For convenience sake, she always kept her hair pulled back in a tight bun, though she could never get the stubborn short pieces from falling forward around her face. She was devoid of any accessories save for her fingers, which were covered in nearly a dozen thin silver rings, covering most her fingers from nail to base. They helped to both conceal and highlight the tattoos that covered her hands and wrapped around her fingers.
She could make out the bright neon sign of the club over the top of a neighboring building, steps quickening as she neared her destination. She'd just go in through the back, slip into the VIP room, and take out her target. She could force his heart to stop in less than a minute, and she would be clear of the building in under three.
She pushed open the rusted back door, emerging in a dimly lit hallway. She could hear the music from the club pounding through the walls, but she ignored it in favor of seeking out her target. She was surprised there were so few people around, not that she was complaining. 'V.I.P', scrawled across a wooden door, caught her attention after she rounded the first corner. She stepped forward, pressing her ear to the wood. She could make out two voices, one low and undoubtedly male while the other was softer, most likely a woman.
Nanako scowled at the prospect of having to take out two targets at once when she was only supposed to have to deal with one, but shrugged it off as she cracked the door open. A large, u-shaped red velvet couch sat in the middle of the room, facing away from the door. In front of it, a small stage with a single, gleaming pole occupied the rest of the small space.
She could see a head of dark hair over the back of the couch, the Ito she was looking for. He was receiving a lap dance from a blond, his attention entirely on her scantily clad body as she sat, back to his chest, grinding down into him.
Well, Nanako thought as she slipped into the room, shutting the door silently behind her, at least it would be easy to sneak up on them. With a flick of her wrist a blade slid out of her sleeve and landed snugly in her palm. Even though it would be easier to cast an illusion over the woman as well, Nanako disliked trapping any one she didn't have to in one of her nightmares.
The first thing she did was slide her hand over the man's face, pumping her aura into him so fast he didn't have time to do anything but gasp as her illusion seeping into his mind. Next, before the blond could turn at the small noise of distress, Nanako pressed the blade to her throat.
"Don't turn around or I'll kill you," the black-haired girl warned, focus half on her target's skyrocketing blood pressure while the rest of her focused to make sure the blond nodded. The girl was shaking like a leaf in Ito's lap, fingers digging into her thighs. Nanako felt bad, even when she pressed the knife harder against the dancer's pale throat when she heard her give a quiet whimper.
"Stay quiet," Nanako ordered, and the blond nodded wordlessly.
The strain focused her attention back on her cast, feeling through her aura pulsing through the man's body as his body reached its limit. His heart beat far too fast, his blood pumping through his veins at lightning speed. He was dreaming of being buried alive, trapped in a tight, dark container with no way out. Though she made sure he was too overwhelmed to make any sounds, in her mind she could hear his agonizing screams as he tried to scratch through the wooden box, ripping off his nails and sending blood curling down his hands and arms.
She felt his heart stutter, and with one last bump of energy it stopped completely. Nanako removed her hand slowly, watching as the color left his face and his frame went limp. Her focus went back to the girl shaking against her blade. Even though the dancer couldn't see it, Nanako's eyes softened.
"If I remove this knife will you make a noise?"
"N-no, I promise!"
Nanako hummed in recognition, slowly pulling back her blade from the young girl's throat.
"Stand up. Walk to the stage and put your hands on the pole. Do not turn around or-"
"You'll kill me," the blond whimpered.
"Exactly," Nanako confirmed, "Now go."
The blond stood up shakily, and Nanako internally marveled at how the girl could walk in those ridiculous heels. The black-haired girl waited until the blond was in place before rounding the couch. She pulled a small black phone from her pocket, snapping a single picture of Ito's body before sending it to the device's one contact. Pocketing the phone again, Nanako walked over to the door. When her hand met the nob, she looked back over her shoulder. The blond had done exactly as she had told her.
The girl's whole body jumped when Nanako called out, "Count to thirty. When you reach zero you can turn around."
"H-Hai."
Nanako waited until she could hear the girl counting quietly under her breath before slipping out the door.
She walked leisurely to the back door, a blood curdling scream filling the air just she slipped back outside.
"Chitose, I don't want to go."
"Meh, don't be such a kill joy Dewa," the brunette called back, grinning slyly at his partner.
Dewa rolled his eyes. When Chitose said he'd wanted to go to a new bar this Friday night, Dewa hadn't thought anything of it. It wasn't until they were walking there and he realized the only place that sold alcohol in the direction they were headed was a strip club that he dug his heels in and said no. Of course, they were close enough already that Chitose had convinced him they should at least poke their heads in and see the vibe.
Again, Dewa rolled his eyes. Check out the vibe his ass, Chitose was going to be up to his eyeballs in women within the first ten minutes.
Just as they were about to push the door open, movement to their right caught Dewa's attention. A young woman, her features mostly hidden behind the upturned collar of her long coat, slipped out of the shadows of the alley that led behind the club. For a fraction of a second her eyes, darker than blood, landed on him, freezing him where he stood.
A blood curdling scream from inside the club ripped his attention away from her. Chitose rushed inside at the sound, and Dewa called after him, "Hey! Don't rush in, idiot!"
He turned his head to look at the woman again before following his partner inside, but when he looked she was nowhere to be found.
When Dewa and Chitose had returned to the bar, raving about a yakuza who'd suddenly dropped dead of a heart attack, no one had thought too much about it. It wasn't until they got to the part where they talked to the dancer who'd been with him that their attention was peaked.
"The manager brushed her off as just being over emotional," Dewa explained, "but she said there was definitely someone in there with them."
"Oh?" Izumo asked, leaning forward across the bar, "do tell."
"She said the attacker sounded like a woman, and she held a knife to her throat. Threatened to kill her if she turned around or made a sound," Dewa pressed his lips together, "she said it felt like being in the same room as a Shinigami."
"The poor kid was shaking like a leaf," Chitose added, "I know her boss brushed her off but I don't think she was making it up."
"And there was that woman too."
Chitose lower the cigarette he was about to take a hit of to look at his partner, "What woman?"
"The one that came out of the alley just before that girl screamed. You didn't see her?"
"No," Chitose shook his head, "but what about her?"
"I don't know," Dewa shrugged, "it was just something about her. And she had these red eyes-"
"What did you say?"
All eyes rose to look at Yata, who'd stood from his spot on the couch. In a few strides the vanguard was in front of Dewa, leaning in close, "What did you say about her eyes?"
"T-They were red, almost like-"
"A demon's?" Yata cut in.
Dewa nodded, "Exactly."
"Yata-chan," Izumo cut in hesitantly, not wanting to rile the short-tempered boy, "how did you know to ask that?"
The scowl on Yata's face could peal paint, "The person who attacked me and Kamamoto had eyes like that."
So, this came to me randomly one day, and I kind of just ran with it. Or it ran with me really- I've been writing it none stop for weeks now. I think it's got potential, and I really like Nanako. She's an absolute badass! Drop a review and let me know your thoughts!