Chapter Seven

Kasumi entered a world of colours. She'd practised meditation to a degree where she was truly able to enter an alternate plain of reality. Her mind was focused on the images that spun in her head, so vibrant and real and so warm. For a moment she forgot about her predicament and where she was, she forgot about her situation and how volatile her life had become, but then she opened her eyes and left her calm state of inner peace.

She didn't know what had sparked her to wake up but something had. There was little the girl could do except loosely wriggle against the rope. She had a good knowledge of knots and was able herself to perform flawless rope work. She knew that the way she was tied was quite inescapable. Her training had taught her this art form due to a kunoichi's constant need to use rope to achieve anything from setting a trap to bounding an enemy. This had been the first time in her life that she had been captured in this way and she felt deeply vulnerable and helpless.

Time went by with slow progression. Kasumi stared at the fluorescent light above her and every now and then made another vain attempt at struggling free. It was at this moment of enduring boredom that there was a sudden sign of life. The door to the room clanged open allowing an ocean of light to pour into the room. Kasumi's eyes adjusted to the view. She could only make out a dark silhouette within the open doorway. The figure then entered the room and was followed by the cream-suited man she'd been darted by in the woods. Once he had entered the door slammed shut.

"Kasumi, hello there. I'm glad to see you're wide awake. Allow me to fully introduce my self to you now, I am Pascal Durron," came a voice.

Kasumi just laid still, her head turned to face the men as they stood to the right hand side of the table she lay on.

"This here is Yoshida... He's going to keep you company," Pascal muttered.

Yoshida made no reply and instead just stared into Kasumi's radiant eyes. He then removed his black trench coat to reveal more black clothing and rolled back his parted blonde hair. He seemed like a grim character, a cruel, cold face with little expression.

"What do you want with me?" Kasumi asked softly.

"Well here's the thing, in all honesty Kasumi, as much as you intrigue me, I don't really want anything from you. But I do know a man that does," Pascal howled.

Kasumi felt on edge after these words but wasn't clear about what it meant.

"I don't understand..." The girl whispered.

Pascal removed his sunglasses and wiped his face with the back of his right hand.

"I'm just going to sell you to someone who, well, really wants to get a hold of you," he said. "Your brother Kasumi, I'm just capturing you to give to him."

Kasumi's heart sunk. She felt a surge of emotion rush through her and pain in her belly, her heart charka throbbed with sadness and concern.

"Hayate?" Kasumi stammered.

"Well done, you can pronounce it," Pascal laughed, looking at Yoshida. "More than I could do."

"So anyway in the mean time, before he comes to collect you or whatever he does, Yoshida here is going to play with you. I've heard he's very good at his work, which is mostly torture and inflicting pain. I'll come down to watch a little later but I've got business to see to now, have fun kids," Pascal announced.

Kasumi knew that if he was telling the truth, and was about to inform Hayate about having her captured, her brother would act on the information and come here. She also knew that this would mean he'd be forced to send shinobi's here to kill her. She had to escape, and fast.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked.

"How much does a captured kunoichi fetch nowadays," Pascal laughed.

"He won't pay you," Kasumi said.

"Oh he will, it's that or no Kasumi, I'll just kill you and bail."

With that Mr. Durron nodded to Yoshida and left the room speedily. Once the door had re-closed with a loud boom Kasumi focused her glare on Yoshida, a nervous twitch jolting across her body.

Yoshida smiled and stretched his arms whilst warming himself up to one side of the room. He then knelt down and fiddled with his coat which he had dumped in a corner. He revealed a small bag which he had in one of the coat pockets. Upon opening the bag he brought out a series of scalpels and needles and placed them on the ground by the table.

"You like my instruments?" Yoshida asked.

His accent was strong and unclear.

"Yoshida why are you doing this?" Kasumi was tense.

"I'm getting paid and enjoy my work," Yoshida mumbled.

He picked up a small, sharp pin and walked to Kasumi's side.

"How sensitive are you?" He asked.

Kasumi couldn't control herself and tensed up in fear of what might be coming. She felt so helpless and exposed. The man then walked down to her feet and clutched her right foot by the toes, stretching out the sole forcefully.

"What are you doing," stuttered Kasumi.

Yoshida didn't reply and instead proceeded to lightly poke Kasumi's sole with the pin head. Kasumi protested in wild thrashing but knew she couldn't escape. With every touch of the pinhead Kasumi yelped in pain. It felt like being pinched, only much worse and it didn't help that the girls feet were particularly sensitive.

The torturer didn't stop his assault and continued poking her sole, from the ball of her foot to the toes. He started prodding harder and faster, Kasumi's reactions were a mixture of agony and rage as she floundered around the tabletop futilely. Yoshida then changed foot and grabbed Kasumi's left foot by the toes. He gripped the white stocking and held it around her toes tightly which effectively kept her foot in position. Kasumi tried to bring her sole down to rest against the tabletop but was unable to resist the strength of Yoshida's hands. He started poking her left foot like he'd done with the right. For such a simple torture it was truly effective and after only a few seconds of it Kasumi was back in her desperate state of panic and distress. Every touch of the pinhead sparked an uncontrollable spasm all across her body. It tingled as electrical impulses tickled up her spine. She was growing more and more desperate as the man sped it up even further and prodded ever harder.

This cruel torment went on for several more minutes. Yoshida hadn't changed his technique but just continued swapping feet and increasing the pace and pressure of each touch. Kasumi was well and truly wound up now and sweat dripped from her cold body. Yoshida then ceased the onslaught and walked back to the side of the table and his line of implements. Kasumi was panting heavily and closely watched him move around with her watery brown eyes. She'd built up a vast rush of adrenaline whilst being tormented and felt more fired up and capable than ever. Energy had come rushing into her from her devotion and drive.

Yoshida bent down, picking up a rusty scalpel, already stained with dry blood.

"Ah yes, this will do yes," he muttered to himself.

Kasumi lay perfectly still and closed her eyes. She was deep in focused concentration and took slow, calm, intakes of air. Yoshida was captivated by her behaviour and walked back to her side with the rusty scalpel in one hand.

"Now we will begin the cutting," he evilly laughed.

Just as he was about to bring the scalpel downwards towards Kasumi's belly the girl opened her eyes and in a burst of energy and power snapped both her legs back against the rope that tied them to the edge of the table. She done this so quickly and with such strength the rope cords snapped and her legs raised high into the air as she lay flat. Yoshida had no time to react, both Kasumi's legs spun up and her feet struck him directly in the face. He stumbled backwards before slamming against the adjacent wall and fell down to the ground unconscious, the scalpel hitting the solid floor with a metallic ding.

Kasumi back flipped until both her legs went over her head and her feet touched the cold floor. This caused her whole body to flip back with her legs until she stood bent double at the head of the table with her hands still tied to it. She got on her knees and started to chew at the rope furiously. The taste of rope and the squeak it made with contact from saliva reminded her of her previous fix with Endal.

Yoshida seemed to be stirring. He slowly sat up, his hand clutching his forehead in objection. Kasumi turned her attention to him as he begun to stumble to his feet in a daze. He was within her kicking range and just as he turned to face her she launched a swift front kick into his cheek. He spun around and fell against the wall, sitting upright with his head bowed limply. Kasumi continued attacking the rope with her teeth. She had to manage to free herself.

Chapter Eight

"Hello, who's that," asked Pascal.

His mobile phone was old and the signal only just capable of dialling out. He sat on the old red sofa upstairs with his men chatting outside in the sun.

"I want to speak to Haya... Erm, Hay..tee is it? You know who I mean, get him on the line," Pascal continued.

The voice on the other end seemed confused at best.

"What you want?" A lady asked impatiently.

"What, hey, listen up. This is important stuff now, get your leader on the phone," he said.

"You want to speak manager, manager not here. Me say you called," the lady answered.

Pascal was losing his rag.

"Who am I talking to?" he asked.

"This is the Golden Dragon, I am receptionist," came a reply.

"The Golden Dragon, right so this is the right number yeah, Hayate's place?" Pascal asked.

"You want to place order, I've never heard of Hayate," the lady said.

"What!? Order, huh? What do you mean?"

"This is a take away restaurant sir, did you want to place an order..."

Pascal hung up and hurled his phone across the room recklessly.

He studied the piece of paper which he held in his hand. It was the information he'd been given from his source regarding how to get in touch with Hayate. It had clearly proved false. Pascal was all out of cigarettes and instead of lighting up just sat in thought, he needed a plan b.

Kasumi toiled with the rope for what seemed like an age, gnawing and chewing at the twine that webbed her wrists. She then struck gold and bit away the last part of the main loop which gave the rest of the entanglement enough slack to allow her to twist and pull her wrists to freedom. As soon as she'd achieved this she took a deep breath of relief and looked to Yoshida.

She walked over to him and studied his closely. He was still out cold from her kick but she wasn't in a mood to take precautions. She grabbed him by the wrists and pulled his body across the room. She managed to salvage enough rope from her bonds on the table to wrap around Yoshida's wrists and ankles. She laid him out on his front and tied his arms behind his back and then his ankles together. She then joined his wrists to his ankles, tying him in a hogtie. She made sure the knots were secure and tight enough without digging into his skin and then collected up all the scalpels and other gadgets he'd brought with him and placed them on the tabletop, out of his reach as he lay on the ground.

The crafty kunoichi then walked to the door and clutched the handle. She didn't know whether or not it was locked and hoped for the best. Luck had it that the door was just closed but unlocked. She slowly cranked open the large entry and crept into the corridor. She closed the door as quietly as she could manage and studied the corridor she now found herself in. It was as dimly lit as the room with bare walls and a rough solid floor. Pipes jetted across the sides of the walls and dispersed into cracks and crevices. The whole place seemed discarded and decaying, corrosion tarnished the pipes and dust rested on the solid surfaces. Kasumi wanted to find her stuff before anything else and looked around to find any potential place it may have been stored. She sneaked up the corridor the only way she could, the other way was a dead end, and before she came across a spiral staircase going upwards she noticed another door to her left. She had nothing to lose and tested to lock. It opened without protest and revealed a small cupboard. In this instance curiosity had not killed the cat. Kasumi could make out amongst the rubble of old paint cans and broom sticks her belt and accessories, tanto and boots. Relief was not the word.

Endal's pace was slow and his mind a daydream. The sunny weather turned to a damp foggy haze. A light shower begun to treacle from the heavens. It was calming and soft. It created a misty miasma of moisture. Endal was moving in amongst the trees in more or less the same direction he'd come from with Kasumi. As he marched deeper into the lush forests he started to notice the natural surroundings. He was in a perfectly calm, magnificent, place. It was a place of natural beauty through colour, smell, and content. The sun, still managing to sneak through the haze, poured down from above with warmth, adding bright light to the varied green tones and causing the wet leaves to sparkle as water reflected.

He deserved a rest and knelt down into the thickets. He looked around his surroundings. To every side of him was bushes, trees, grass, and dead leaves laying dormant in bulk, crunching underfoot. This was what sparked Endal's attention as he rested, the sound of cracking dry leaves being pressed, being stepped on.

The masked assassin turned his head in the direction the sound had come from. His eyes meticulously glared around in search for something, anything. He didn't move from his position, however, he paused in preparation. He suddenly then noticed a dim outline of a figure to his left side, from where the sound had come. Now he knew someone was near, and where they were, he relaxed slightly. Endal decided to pretend he hadn't noticed them and remained seated in the grassy bed. He looked to the ground and attentively homed in on the sounds, and his more sophisticated instincts.

His eye then caught a glimpse of the figure as they got closer. He could tell that whoever it was they had dyed hair, it looked purple but this was a mere dot of tone within the eerie woodland haze. Endal continued to watch on, realising that whoever it was they were destined to walk slap bang into where he was sitting. He felt an urge to prepare for a fight and his right hand itched as it rubbed the handle of his katana.

Tension mounted as the moment came where Endal had calculated the figure would emerge from the fog. But that moment came, and went. His heart raced and he began to lose his initial cool. He took a few squints around but saw no-one. It was almost deadly silent, there was no sound. A few more moments went by in this edgy fashion until something happened. Endal quickly spotted a flash of purple to his right side and turned to face it but it was too late. A figure dressed in tight black clothing spun from the bushes in insane speed and landed directly in front of Endal as he sat in the grass. Endal looked up at the figure whose sharp blade was already touching his gullet. It was a girl; she had short purple hair and striking crimson eyes.

"Hi," she announced. "I'm Ayane."