Rosebuds, Chapter 9

It seemed like ages to Mireille before they were facing their hotel door again-and reminded her of their days in the Middle East. At least Kirika wasn't dripping blood this time from an untreated wound, she thought, as she fumbled with the key.

Not even bothering to close the door, her first action was to get Kirika to her bed. Quite willingly Kirika lay down and Mireille worked furiously at the buckles on her sandals. When both shoes were off and on the floor, Mireille placed several blankets over her, then shut the door.

"Mireiyu."

Mireille turned. "What is it? You really need to rest, you know."

Kirika's eyes were closed and the fractured sentence escaped her lips as fragments. Mireille could only catch "man" and "coffee shop".

"Really," she said, locking the door and coming over to Kirika's side, "I don't know what you're getting yourself all worked up about. We drank coffee and talked, nothing more." Mireille opened her mouth to continue, then remembered the way his laugh made her feel. Quickly she added, "It's nothing to worry about."

Kirika was asleep.

= = = = = = =

Their first week in Japan passed quickly and before long there were only seven days. Mireille was getting daily emails from the much-irritated client now and she was actually quite interested in taking the contract, but with Kirika half delirious, she didn't dare give an affirmative answer yet. Mireille was still concerned about Kirika's feelings about the whole contract deal, but the more pressing problem was whether or not Kirika would be in good enough shape to even consider carrying out such a task.

Three days after the coffee shop incident, Kirika was strong enough to sit up in bed and sip at some tea. Mireille sat on the couch beside her, and gently broke the news of the contract to her, listing out the positive and negative aspects.

"Kirika," she said quietly, "we don't have to take it if you don't want to."

Kirika didn't look at Mireille for a long time. Finally, she lowered her head and whispered, "Let's take it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Mireille went back to her computer and pressed reply. Just one line would suffice.

I will undertake the case.

She didn't sign it.

= = = = = = =

Kirika sat in bed, a blanket draped over her legs, as Mireille squatted on the floor beside her, using the bed for a table. The blueprints of Tsubaki High School were spread out on the bed between them and Mireille was drawing wide circles with a red marker. Kirika was to serve solely as distraction while Mireille carried out the assassination.

"It shouldn't take more than thirty minutes," she said with an air of nonchalance, ".although teenaged students might be more panicky than adults."

Kirika didn't reply. In a monotone she replied, "I can handle them."

Mireille was silent for a while, thinking this over.

"Maybe you'd better get your student uniform from your old apartment and disguise yourself as a student," she said. Although Kirika was nearly twenty-three years old by now, her build was still that of a young girl.

Kirika nodded.

"I can get your uniform," she said, "and we'll need you to get the guns sometime soon. We have only a week left, although obviously the assassination will have to be staged towards the end so we can be out of here soon after."

"I can do that tomorrow," Kirika said.

Mireille shook her head. "You'd better stay in bed and rest. And you'll have to try on your uniform to ensure that it still fits-can you hide your gun in that bag you used to carry?"

"Hai."

"Kirika, are you sure you want to do this?" Mireille fidgeted, not knowing how to explain what she felt-that Kirika was simply going along with her and didn't really want to do it.

"Yes!"

"All right."

= = = = = = =

Mireille couldn't help but laugh at the image Kirika made in her school uniform. She was every inch the perfect little schoolgirl, innocently clutching her bag, which would contain the lethal Beretta.

"What will you be wearing?" asked Kirika, who had grown quite open to the idea over the past few days. "It'll be a lot harder for you than me to enter the school. I'll just slip in with the students."

"True." Mireille looked at Kirika again and smothered a snicker. "I don't suppose I would quite fit in if I wore a school uniform."

It was Kirika's turn to laugh, picturing the tall Corsican blonde in a group of Japanese schoolgirls, as Mireille searched through her bag.

"I could wear this," she said slowly, holding up a purple halter-top and some tan-colored pants. "After all, nothing will keep me from being seen, no matter what I wear. If only I could change colors at will, like a chameleon." This drew another fit of giggles from Kirika.

Later that evening they sat down on the bed, the map between them. Mireille explained everything calmly and Kirika followed on, occasionally interjecting nods or an occasional "un". Mireille would be waiting in the back of the school until all the students entered-that signal would be clearly delivered by the bell. Kirika, on the other hand, was to mingle with the students and enter with them. The gun would be ready for action, but she would not shoot unless she absolutely had to. When the coast was clear Mireille would enter through a back exit and slowly make her way to the principal's office. If all went well, a quick shot from her Walther would ensure the principal's death. She would be waiting for Kirika on the other side of the street, calmly reading a magazine under the trees in the park. No matter whether the plan was successful or not, Kirika was to leave the school after an hour.

Kirika was still experiencing mixed feelings. It wasn't so much the killing of innocent students that bothered her now, it was the innocence of the target. She didn't know why it bothered her, for she knew that the guilty would likely die at Mireille's hands anyway. It had never bothered her in the past what their targets had done-they were simply targets. However, she simply couldn't shake the feeling that more had gone on than an ordinary conversation over coffee at the coffee shop.

It wasn't her business anyway. Kirika resumed listening to Mireille.

There were just two days until the planned assassination.

Author's Note: Okay I have a stupid question. . . I'm using word; how do you make it show up in italic font? grrr I've tried everything I can think of, to no avail. . .