In the middle of StatLight City is arguably it's biggest attraction. Stretching the length of almost two football fields was Sakura Park. It consisted only of green grass and cherry blossom trees; with the exception of a few small streams and ponds. During certain times of the year it was truly a sight to see. Around the park were many businesses and restaurants. As well as a few condominiums. One of these, the tallest, was Claire's residence. She lived on the 27th floor of the "Sakura 2"; one of the four surrounding the park.

Her place was very well kept. Everything was in it's place. There was a large U-shaped couch infront of her flat 60in tv hanging on the wall. Under that was her entertainment center filled with movies, books, and magazines. In fact, as he looked around he was beginning to notice there were magazines everywhere; stacked in neat piles all over the house.

She had a beautiful view of the city. One of her walls were just windows overlooking Sakura Park. It looked like a sea of pink and green. The rest of them were covered with huge posters of magazine covers and pictures of friends and family.

He sat down at one end of the couch and waited for Claire to return from her room. Immediately upon entering she took off her coat and dashed off to her room telling him to help himself to anything. He was staring blankly at his sword leaning on the wall infront of him. His mind was exhausted. He could feel it. The room felt like it was beginning to slowly rotate. Clockwise. This happened every now and then. It was from lack of sleep; or at least that's what he thought. But now wasn't the time for that.

Claire returned to the room wearing different clothes, yoga pants and a t-shirt, and went straight to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

"Are you hungry? I could make us something to eat."

"I'm alright. Thank you though."

"When was the last time you ate?"

Silence while he thought. She walked over to him and stood behind the couch over his head. Hair golden locks tickled her face. It was free now.

"You can't be serious. You really don't remember the last time you consumed food?"

"I may have ate on the airship. It was a long flight."

"Where are you coming from?"

"Saturn. Non-stop."

"That's about...5 days right?"

"Six."

Ray reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. His eyes were closed. She wanted to see the grey. Claire moved her hair behind one ear and swallowed hard.

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Only if you can answer a question for me."

Claire slowly ran her hands across the top of the couch and gently placed the on the sides of his head. She lowered her head down and whispered in his ear.

"Are you a killer...Ray Hikari?"

His eyes shot open. The question echoed over and over again in his mind; in the voice of two different women. It was all he could hear besides the Claire gently breathing on his ear; waiting for his answer.

"Why do you ask? Are you afraid of me?"

"Do you think I'd be this close if I was?"

"I'm not sure. That was quite the scene at the bar."

"That's exactly my point. Is that what you do? Are you an assassin?"

"Would that qualify me as a killer?"

She stood up and walked around the couch to stand in front of him. He took her moment of frustration to light his cigarette. She stopped and looked at his sword. It looked elegant. And yet, it's only purpose was to take away life.

"Only assassins carry weapons like these."

"That's not true."

"It's not ENTIRELY true I know but I've seen enough of you guys to know bounty hunters favor guns."

"I have a gun. I killed that guy with it. Not the sword."

"That doesn't mean a thing. You don't even carry yourself like a bounty hunter. Spare me the bullshit and answer my question."

"Well...If your definition of a killer is an assassin then I'm not. I used to be though. So where does that leave me?"

"What are you now?"

"Bounty hunter."

Claire rolled her eyes.

Ray took a drag of his cigarette.

"It looks like you don't like my answer."

"I don't. There's no difference. Assassin or bounty hunter, your only function is to take life."

"Bounty hunters don't always kill you know. A lot of bounties require the target to be an turned over alive. That's why we exist. To help the authorities."

"It all sounds good on the outside but you know like I know that the most lucrative bounties come from more dangerous targets. And those are to be killed in order to be collected."

"Alright. There's usually some terrible people on that list though. Most would think the universe would be better off."

"Be that as it may, we are not gods. A life is a life and it isn't ours to take. Let them rot in prison for what they've done."

Claire turned her back and stared out the window with her arms crossed. It was well into the night now. The city was alive with lights. He stared catching himself once again admiring her figure. Claire is a beautiful woman. She seemed upset, and for some reason, he felt compelled to console her. But how could he if he was everything she hated?

She turned her head back towards him. He met her gaze with silence; watching the lights dance in her eyes.

"Tell me, why'd you change sides?"

"Pardon?"

"From what I've heard, bounty hunters and assassins are on the opposite sides of things since they normally target each other. Even though that makes absolutely no sense to me."

"Let me stop you there. Assassins operate under a code. They don't do what they do for material reasons. Assassin prey on others for status. Glory. Power. Control. It's an ongoing battle to see who's the strongest. It has been that way for centuries. Bounty hunters work for money. Cut and dry. Assassins don't respect that. In a way, they value life. Just...like you."

"Stop it. While you've managed to shed some light on it for me, it just brings up more questions. Do you believe all that?"

"To an extent. I was raised that way. I've had that sword over there my entire life."

Claire turned and looked and the weapon leaning on the wall. It looked like it had just been forged and had never seen a battle; cut into flesh.

His katana was obviously made just for him. The jet-black sheath spangled (?) with stars; the same snow white as his coat. The guard of the blade was black. Inside of the circle-shaped guard were five stars arranged in a five-point (find out proper name) diamond. His hilt was wrapped in snow white cloth leaving only small black diamonds in a row to the end. It was a work of art. She could only imagine what the blade looked like.

"So you were raised to be an assassin?"

"Most are. The kind of training they require takes years. The earlier you start the more you can learn and refine."

"Ways to kill people you mean?"

"Amongst other things yes. For instance, when assassins are trained that young its usually in groups. These groups eventually turn into Squads and the people you loathe today."

Her eyes narrowed.

"It that what happened to you?"

The room fell silent. Claire turned to face him. Ray stared; contemplating his answer. He took the last drag from his cigarette then put it out.

"Yes. That's exactly what happened to me."

"So where's your Squad?"

Ray grinned and stood up. He removed his coat and sat in on the couch behind him. Then he took off his fitted black t-shirt. Claire was surprised by two things about his body. The first was how toned he was. Ray appeared to be on the thin side but he was well built. His body reminded her of a soccer player. Capable of quick, precise, and agile movements. The second thing she noticed, and what simply couldn't be ignored, were the several scars over his heart.

The scars were fresh and from deep wounds. There were four, long scars from under his collarbone stretching almost to his waist. Between two of them was another scar. A wide scar from a stab wound appeared to be from a different weapon, but made at the same time as the others. Claire guessed there was an exit wound scar would be on his back. She shuddered at the thought.

Ray was watching her stare; wondering what she was thinking. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she didn't notice. He spoke and broke her concentration.

"The only family I've ever had tried to kill me. That's what happened to my Squad."

Her eyes slowly made their way back up to his. His face was emotionless.

"What...was your Squad called?"

"We were the 5 "Diamonds"."

Claire's eyes widened and she sat down. Her mind flashed back to the emblem on his coat. She looked like she saw a ghost.

"I've heard stories about that Squad. The people that come to the bar talk about you fairly often. I hear all sorts of things."

Ray moved with such speed she failed to see him even stand up. In what seemed like a split second, he had her pinned against the wall; his sword an arms-length away. His stare was ice cold and she could feel it. Claire's face was inches away from hers. Facing the giant at the bar she felt nothing. Right now, she felt as if Death itself was peering into her soul.

"Have you ever heard anyone say the name Julius Nomura?"

She nodded. Slowly and silently. His grip tightened around her wrist.

"Have you ever seen him?"

"N-no. I have no idea what he looks like. But people talk about him all the time...Even that guy, Bruno, you spoke with. He's been there frequently the past few nights."

His eyes widened slightly then he released her. He turned around and walked across the room and put his hand on his head. Claire watched him as the realization that Bruno lied to his face. And more than that, he didn't notice at all. He wondered is the Intel he got was false, or worse. It was fed to him. Someone wanted him back in the city. But who? And why?

He turned back and started towards his sword, only to be stopped by the windows shattering in an instant. Claire screamed dropped to the floor covered her head and face. Ray jumped across the room and grabbed his sword. He turned and looked to see the culprit standing in the room in front of him.

With the windows being blown out and them being so high up, wind swirled around the apartment. Magazines blew everywhere. The couch was shredded from the glass. It looked like diamonds scattered all over the floor. Ray stood up slowly; staring her down. Waiting for her to move. Sloane's hair whipped around her face as she peered back with her yellow eyes filled with malice.

It had been over a year since he saw her last, the longest he'd ever gone without seeing her. He didn't remember her ever wearing such revealing attire. Her black leather ankle-lenght boots fed her fishnet leggings up her milky legs. The black shorts she wore barely covered her butt. And her white shirt left everything visible just below her breast.

Even with the new wardrobe, he would still recognize her anywhere. She was etched into his DNA they were so close; at a time at least. She still wore her coat, like his, created specifically for him. Her black coat barely qualified as such. The left sleeve stopped just above her shoulder, leaving her almost completely tattooed arm visible. With the other sleeve ending in a cuff, the front only went as far as her waist (leaving room for pockets). The back split into two separate trails ended at her calves.

Not that long ago they were the inseparable. Now, he could tell by the fire in her eyes she was there to kill him.