OUT OF LUCK

The tale of Tsutana Kichirou

Chapter 7: Traitor

(Ni)

Kichirou, I'm sorry.

As I hurried through the corridors of the Stable, with the bell quietly ringing in the distance, I could still feel his tight embrace. His words echoed through my head like a soothing lullaby: I'm not backing out, Ni, because I really like you. His soft voice, so innocent. His sweet touches, warm and trusting. I do not deserve this, I thought as I walked up the stairs until I reached the Old Man's office. Before I entered, my hand already on the doorknob, I closed my eyes, trying to push those damn emotions away, and inhaled deeply. Focus, do not get distracted.

I was still wondering how he was able to do that. We've known each other for only a few days and I was already caught inside his web. He had charm, that clumsy, innocent boy. And he had made everything so damn easy. Yet now it would prove to be more difficult to distance myself from him...

"Ni!" The bell had stopped ringing.

Upon hearing the Old Man's voice, I quickly entered the room, knelt right in front of the big desk and bowed my head deeply. "I'm here, Oyaji-sama," I said quietly, feeling the usual tension rising up between my shoulder blades as I felt the man walk around his desk to stand behind me.

"You're late."

"I am sorry, Oyaji-sama," I whispered, swallowing hard as I felt his hand on my right shoulder. "Please forgive me."

"Hmm," he grunted and gripped my shoulder tighter, motioning me to stand. I did what he wanted and stood up straight, still not looking at him. "So how is your impression of him?" I heard the Old Man ask as he let go of my shoulder and walked out of my field of vision.

"I think he will get the hang of the training sooner or later," I replied matter-of-factly, trying my best to focus on the task at hand. "Probably later, he knows less than I had thought, basically nothing. His only potential seems to lie in his ability to heal very fast. He can survive, but – with all due respect, Oyaji-sama – I don't know how that will help the cause of the Herd."

"Don't concern yourself with that, Ni," I heard him reply from somewhere behind me. "He passed the first test, he survived and he is not yet broken. However, his will to survive might cause us problems in the future if you don't take care of that. What do you think? Will he cooperate?"

I closed my eyes. "Yes, he will, of that I'm certain. I'm positive that I convinced him. He trusts me unconditionally. He... likes me. He even told me I was –" I inhaled deeply and fought against the memories. They were too fluffy to share with anyone, but this was the Old Man and unfortunately, he had to know everything. "– the cutest girl he had ever seen..."

The Old Man's laugh made the vein on my temple pop uncomfortably. I clenched my jaw and straightened up a little more. "Funny boy, this Kichirou..." he said, his voice closer now. "He might not be the smartest, but at least he can make us laugh, quite a talent, really."

I lowered my gaze guiltily, suddenly seeing Kichirou's face in front of me, those puppy eyes staring right into my soul. Poor kid. Where would he be if the Old Man hadn't taken a liking to him? Would he still run around cluelessly, guided by luck and chance? Slipping from harm's grasp like he had those past sixteen years? I swallowed as I remembered the scars on his stomach and the way he was still dealing with his trauma. How should I ever be able to help him overcome that, knowing just too much for my own good?

A hand on my shoulder made me snap back to reality. The ice-cold reality. "Don't let him get to your head," I heard the low voice of the Old Man close to my ear. I stiffened.

"Of course not, Oyaji-sama," I replied with as firm a voice as I could muster. "I will not forget what I'm supposed to do."

He tightened his fingers around my shoulder. "Good. For now, keep him occupied and in favor of our cause, distract him. I don't want him wandering around too much."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, for our daily ritual," he then said and I swallowed as he made me turn around. "You know the drill, Ni."

I nodded, trying to hold his gaze for as long as possible, before moving past him to sit down in the chair in the corner of the room. He followed me and turned to the little table next to it, re-aligning the instruments that were waiting for me. As soon as I had sat down, automatically rolling up the right sleeve of my sweater, I had successfully turned off any thought carousel left inside my head.

Eleven years, first every month, then every week, now every day. I clenched my fist in preparation.

I didn't even see the needle anymore that hovered inches from the crook of my arm and I surely didn't feel the sting as it pierced through my skin. The only bad part was the burning as my blood started pouring out into the tube leading to a bigger tank that was already half full. Full of my precious blood, the only reason, I know now, why I was here. Why I was the Old Man's right hand.

He needed my blood. Therefore he needed me, I kept telling myself. Without me, he wouldn't even be here anymore. I shot him a glance as he stood over the tank, watching the red liquid pool lazily into it. Eleven years and he hadn't aged a bit.

Eleven years ago he had saved me from certain death, as I lay in that old warehouse, almost completely bled out on that dirty table. I can't remember much of that night or the days prior or after, only his face in the darkness, his soothing voice, the words that had burned themselves into my brain.

"You're safe now," he had said when I had finally come to, finding myself in a maze of wooden corridors and identical rooms, deep inside what would soon become the Stable, the home of the Herd, where a man whose real name I didn't know to this day would raise a bunch of kids with similar fates to become his army of skilled assassins, ready to fight for the greater good. We all had one thing in common: we were saved from the world that had spat us out, which in return forged in every one of us the determination to make it a better place.

As I lowered my gaze to the needle stuck inside my arm, watching the droplets of blood squeeze into the tube, I suddenly remembered my first kill in the name of the cleansing of the world. I had long forgotten her name, but it was the woman in charge of the orphanage I grew up in. The one who sold my secret to the highest bidder. The secret of my special blood. I can't remember how exactly she had found out about it – neither could I remember finding out about it myself. Growing up without parents, without any heritage, without name, I had nothing, knew nothing, lived from hand to mouth. Learned things by mistake.

I was a clumsy, angry kid, who got into fights a lot, therefore bled a lot. Somehow she must have noticed that my blood would heal the wounds of my opponents, leaving me the only one hurt. I dodged quite a bit of punishment that way, putting the blame on those I fought. Yet she knew and she kept that secret until she had to use it to save the orphanage. When I came back several years later, finding her in the very same orphanage, I didn't even hesitate as I cut her throat, spilling her worthless blood. Her death was my redemption, the first step into a new life, in which I was more than just a scrawny kid without a name.

I became someone, I became Ni. I did everything to grow stronger and stronger, but not only for myself, but for him. The Old Man, who had given me the opportunity to be someone. Giving him my blood was only a small price to pay for everything he had done for me. I owed him.

And therefore I usually didn't hesitate when he assigned me a mission. It was an order and of course I would follow it. I always had and I always will. Without question, without doubt. His word was everything. And taking care of the newest addition to the Herd seemed like such an easy task. One I had done countless times before. The newbies were usually just grateful to have a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs, they even felt special for being chosen by the mysterious Old Man, who took them in so willingly when everyone else had always pushed them away.

He had a way of finding just the right people. Yet with Kichirou, I wasn't too sure if he really belonged here. He was the first to really fight the system, even bite the hand that fed him. And the worst thing: he made me doubt it as well.

I looked towards the Old Man, who was just tapping the blood tank to fill the glass he was holding. I swallowed dryly, the thought of him drinking my blood was still making me sick to my stomach, but I knew it was necessary. It kept him alive. Eleven years ago I had met a man, who was at the end of his existence. I don't know much about his past, but when I met him, he was a mere shell of his former self. Still he had saved me, took me in, cared for me until I could care for him.

Which I did without question. It was me who offered him to drink my blood. I wanted to return the favor and eleven years later, I still do. I know my role in all of this, how he had gotten stronger and stronger, slowly returning to his former self. How his ideas had gotten bigger, how he took in more and more kids like me, how he trained us, made us his army. How he wanted to change the world.

And I was with him one-hundred percent.

The world was a horrible place and ridding it of certain people, gathering needful information, trying to understand it all, fighting those, who would oppose us, it all made sense. It was the right thing to do.

But what Kichirou had taught me, made me realize, was that we were mere tools, tiny gears working a much bigger machine. Slaves for the greater good. We were living only for the Herd, which was our mantra, our creed, but was it all there was? No. Kichirou had shown me that. There was more to life than following orders. Even though we were a collective, working in teams, standing our ground together, having our backs, I never felt quite connected to any of the other numbers.

We weren't forbidden to form friendships, per se, but most of us chose to live for ourselves, training on our own, relying mostly on ourselves. Because we knew that friendships were futile, they distracted us from our goals, they made us weak. (Something I also learned the hard way...) And the mission always came first, the Herd, the greater good. That was why we were numbers. Numbers could be replaced, so getting used to one in particular wasn't doing it. I for one did appreciate the company of a strong and able teammate during a mission more than the thought of having a drink together afterwards.

With Kichirou however... I did look forward to getting back, knowing that he would be in the room next door. Waiting for me? Whenever he looked at me, I surely felt like, for him, I was the only one that mattered. And every time, I felt bad for using him like that, using his traumatized soul, making him depend on me, playing right into the hands of the Old Man. I was supposed to break Kichirou, make him the perfect pawn. I already had his trust, I was sure I could convince him to do the strangest things, but break him? Destroy his will to live and survive? His strong mindset?

I doubted it. And to be honest, I didn't want to.

It was the first time I was really considering a mission and if it was right or wrong. Making him a new soldier in the ranks of the Herd, training him, sure, that wasn't a bad thing, it was something he could use in his young life, a purpose, like all of us wanted. But making sure he wouldn't use his new abilities against us, against the Herd and its principles? How was I supposed to do that when he was so anti-everything?

But I forgot something. He wasn't anti-me.

And the Old Man knew that, noticed it the moment Kichirou had calmed down under the touch of my hand. There had been a bond between us, right from the beginning. And of course I was supposed to use that to lure him in, make him want to fight for us, make him another pawn. But deep inside, as I realized now, was something else, something I wanted.

I wanted to use that bond to be closer to him, because in his own way he made me feel good about myself, actually made me think about myself and my wishes. I never had my own desires. Not after I had killed the person who had been responsible for my own personal trauma. After that, I had sworn to serve the Old Man and his Herd. It was enough and it felt good, it still does, it was my purpose in life.

But then Kichirou had kissed me.

A kiss, of all things, something I had never experienced and never even dreamed or thought about. I hadn't needed affection, never wanted someone to hug me or be close to me. I had always kept people at a certain distance, because, in my line of work, physical contact meant the fatal end of any combat. It meant defeat and failure. And still, that boy had broken right through my defenses and I wasn't sure if it was because I had let down my guard, if it was the mission in my mind to let him in or if I actually wanted him to do just that.

Whatever it was, it had opened a door inside my mind. A door behind which I had found the most curious things: Needs. Desires. Feelings. Things I kept hidden for a reason. Because they got in the way.

They made me think too much, which I never did.

I noticed just how much I had been thinking when I realized that the Old Man had already removed the needle from my arm. I blinked in surprise, looking around in confusion as I rolled down the sleeve of my sweater. I found the man sitting at his desk, watching me.

"You worry me, Ni," he said when I met his gaze. He looked indeed concerned and grimmer than usual. "You can't seem to stay focused today."

I got up from the chair and knelt in front of his desk, keeping the eye contact. "I am sorry, it won't happen again."

He watched me intensely, his dark eyes stern and discomforting. I stiffened slightly. "But I fear it will. That boy... he got to you, hm?"

"No, Oyaji-sama," I replied, hiding the lie by staring at him unblinkingly. "I was just thinking about how to convince him to believe in what we are doing. It's only the mission that occupies my mind. Nothing else."

The Old Man stared right back, testing me. I felt a single drop of sweat run down between my shoulder blades. He eventually sighed and nodded. "Fine. Keep at it. You may go now."

I bowed my head, then got up and left the room without another glance back. Once the door was closed behind me, I inhaled deeply, before hurrying back downstairs. Every step made it harder to ignore the feeling inside my stomach. The warm one that made my heart beat faster. A smile crept onto my lips as his face slipped into my mind. Kichirou...

Sorry, Old Man, he did get to me after all...

A/N:

And welcome to our first twist. Or several. A little bit of Ni's backstory, a secret mission and more secret feelings... nothing will go wrong from here, right?