Book 1: Simplicitatem
Chapter 2: Omerta
"Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead."
-Benjamin Franklin
"What's got you all riled up Feitan?"
The aspiring swordsman sat atop a splintering crate resting on the dusty ground. The sky was orange, and streaked as he cast a sidelong glance to the man of Chinese descent sitting a few feet away from him.
"Can't have been that kid, eh?" Nobunaga laughed raucously, hands hidden in opposing sleeves.
"Shut the hell up, Nobunaga."
Feitan tsked, annoyed, and tried to shake his arm out. It was numb, weak, and he had an irresistible desire to slam it against a hard surface, preferably Nobunaga's face, both to cease the taunting and to regain some degree of feeling in it.
"Want me to take a look at it?" Machi offered voice as icy as ever.
"Don't touch me, woman."
She shrugged. "Your loss."
"Anyways," Kuroro cleared his throat, hands still in the pockets of his suit. "Shall we get back on track?"
Met with silence, he took it as affirmation. After a brief pause he began speaking again, though there was not much left to say.
"Above all, make the right call." The Leader stated simply. "My orders may be top priority, but I am not your top priority. Our goal is not to keep an individual alive, but the spider."
"Was that all you called us here to explain?" Machi questioned.
Had it been anyone else, Kuroro might have shot them a look. Her loyalty, however, was one he did not ever question. Judging from the look on the female's face, she had meant no disrespect.
"No, actually." He shifted his stance, and pulled his hands out of his pockets. "We have a new mission."
Nobunaga groaned as Pakunoda made herself comfortable.
"What's it this time?"
"The assassination of a certain group of men." Kuroro answered honestly. "The Mafia is an underground criminal organization had prides itself on its unity and furtive nature. There are a good fifteen people who have worked with a certain man and broken the Mafia's Code of Silence."
"What's the good in killing some people if they've already spilled the beans?" Uvo piped up, expression serious.
Kuroro suppressed the urge to smirk. An overly muscular middle aged man possessing no qualms with snapping necks and crushing skulls asking, what's the good? There was no good.
"In case you haven't noticed," Franklin directed his gaze toward the afro'd man, "we are a mercenary group that does the bidding of the Mafia. They don't need a reason; and neither do we."
"Ahhh," the samurai sighed, long and loudly. "what's with all the hum drum about this Code of Silence?"
"The Mafia holds its codes and moral system in high regard." Kuroro commented.
"Big words for a slightly immoral group of people." He snorted.
"Like we're any better." Pakunoda said sharply.
That seemed to do the trick, and the group settled down.
"Anyways, when Omerta and the Code of Silence are broken, the transgression is punishable by death. Since thirteen of the fifteen men are hiding away here in Meteor City, the dirty work has been passed down onto us."
"Are we getting paid?" The pink-haired woman inquired.
"Generously." The Leader answered. He pulled out thirteen photographs, all taken from suspicious, slanted angles. "These are our targets. Take your pick. We have a three week deadline."
"Each of us gets two, then?"
"I'll be taking the one left over," the ochre-eyed Dancho remarked, "since there are six of you."
Each Spider swiped two photos and began to study their targets.
"Oi, Nobu, that one looks stronger, let's switch."
"No way in hell."
"Eh? Come on!"
"Go away Uvo."
Kuroro curiously examined his own photograph. It was a rather elderly man. The left side of his face seemed to droop, and it was a different shade from the rest of him. Both of his eyes were closed –though it was more accurate to say that the left was stuck that way- and a tender smile painted his demeanor.
Deftly, the Leader folded the thick paper.
"We meet back here in three weeks time." He said quietly.
A swift nod from the each of his subordinates was all he needed to say the word.
"Disperse."
Forms blurring, the seven figures swiftly abandoned the junkyard.
"I can only step on an ant so hard without crushing it."
-Aizen Sosuke (Bleach)
Aika glared at the rodent nibbling away at the fruit she'd brought back with her.
She sighed. For god's sake, all the waste dumped here must have had some radioactive affect on the wildlife –like there was any wildlife to actually speak of in Meteor City; that or it had elements that could turn them rabid. The rats had no innate fear of humans anymore and she vaguely wondered how long it would take before it began to turn the citizens rabid as well.
Her uninjured arm shot out and grabbed it by its head, and she analyzed it slowly. Was it actually rapid?
Its eyes seemed to be a normal color… And its teeth looked normal for a rat's... No foaming at the mouth either.
Carefully, Aika focused on it, and surely enough, she felt a strange occurrence begin to happen. The rat began to hiss and flail, gnashing its teeth and flapping its tail against her.
After several seconds had elapsed, the rodent went completely limp and Aika set it down on the ground gently as she took the left hand that had originally grabbed the rat and placed it over her right elbow; her shattered elbow, for the love of god.
Immediately, a soothing sensation enveloped it, and the throbbing slowly subsided.
She kept it there for a few seconds more until the cooling feeling ebbed away.
"That's a clever way to get rid of the rat problem."
She jumped. And then sighed, exasperated.
"Old man, why do you keep on seeing the need to scare me out of my skin whenever you drop by?"
He chuckled, his laugh deep, soft, endless, like a lake constantly flowing into the ocean. "I'm not sure; it just seems to always turn out that way."
Confused, Aika turned toward the sun, only to find it almost finished with its daily trek across the expanse of the rolling sky; it was already time for the chess match. She wondered if including wasting time as one of her talents was a valid and acceptable thing to do.
"I guess I'll be the white pieces tonight?" She volunteered.
He nodded once.
Deftly setting up the chess board, Aika moved her first pawn.
The game dragged on for longer than usual that particular day. Aika found herself sitting on her legs, eagerly making predictions in her mind, thinking ahead. The old man took longer than usual to respond, hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Every once in awhile, he would touch his shoulder, exhaling heavily.
"What's wrong?" She finally questioned, upon examining his questionable behavior for some time.
"The air seems bitter tonight, doesn't it Aika." He commented.
She pointed her nose up and inhaled deeply, waiting several seconds before responding. "Just smells like trash, as always. To me anyways."
He only laughed in response. He was always laughing.
"I can feel the rats running around. They're dangerous tonight."
"Are you finally losing your mind old man?"
"Perhaps." He stood up. His expression had turned grave, his perpetual smile dissipating.
Shocked, Aika stood up too. "Where are you going? We haven't finished our match yet." Why are you concerned? What are you hiding from me?
"I seem to be very tired tonight…" Something's going to happen. I need to leave. He said this as his eyebrows knitted themselves together. "Leave the chessboard like that. We can finish tomorrow."
The girl had opened her mouth to argue when she was interrupted.
"You should listen to your elders, little girl."
Aika whipped around, heart leaping to her throat.
Standing some eight feet away from her in the innermost corner of the alleyway was the ochre-eyed man she had seen several hours before.
Immediately, she leapt backwards, fueled more by overwhelming fear than anything else.
Aika narrowed her eyes, straining to see the face of the man before her through the looming darkness. He was obviously the man she had seen at the junkyard, not the one that had broken her arm, but the one she had seen after that entire incident.
His gaze was rather frightening to be frank, and she found herself taking several steps back.
"You have good instincts." He stepped out from the shadows of the high alley walls. "Just horribly bad luck."
The old man smirked slightly. "I see, has the Mafia hired another group to do their dirty work yet again?" He opened his other eye. "You seem to be a bit young to be a part of a group that sits on the lap one of the most corrupt organizations in the world."
"You flatter me." He responded deadpan. "But we digress, Mister…" He took a look at a piece of paper he pulled from his pocket. "Mike Alabaster." The man finished. "Your time has come."
"Mike?" Aika spun around, making a valiant but nonetheless fruitless attempt to rid herself of the painful tension that seeped into her body. "Is that your name?"
"My name is nothing of importance," he commented, seemingly amused. "Nothing of importance, anyways."
"Are you going to tell the girl to leave?" The ochre-eyed man asked, slowly walking toward them. "You seemed to be in enough of a hurry to try to lead me away."
"I don't think she'd listen to me if I did." Mike chuckled in response.
Kuroro found it slightly unnerving to speak to a man who closed both of his eyes. He was used to staring his victims down when he killed them; the Leader had never given it a second thought. But finding that he could not read the senior's emotions, or predict what his next move might have been was unsettling.
It was easier on his conscience if his victims hated him; an eye for an eye made the entire process much simpler. He only sighed, mentally shrugging. It couldn't be helped; it wasn't as if he had a substantial amount of conscience anyways.
Kuroro directed his gaze toward the girl. The sight was one to behold; she looked like a cat that had been spooked, and if she had fur, it probably would have been spiked up.
"Aren't you the one that Feitan went after earlier today? Aika, was it?"
She didn't answer. "Will you really kill him?" She blurted out before she could contain herself. "Are you really going to kill him? You won't, right?"
He stopped his advance to fix his gaze on her curiously. The man tilted his head and answered: "Of course I'm going to kill him, it's my job. I suggest you move out of the way. He was kind enough to try to shield you from me. Take note."
"Why?" She persisted, trying to stall for time, though she didn't really understand why. It wasn't as if she could do anything.
"Why indeed?" He put his hands into his pockets and looked up into the deep sky, he stars blotted out by the excess of fumes in Meteor City. "You should ask the Mafia, if you're seeking an answer to that."
"Aika, you should do as he says and leave quickly." Mike urged.
There was some unspoken threat hanging over Aika. The young man before her had strange eyes. They were wide, and gleamed with near stoicism, reflecting both vitality and corruption. More than anything, they were eyes that absorbed endlessly, windows to an exceedingly intelligent –and lethally dangerous- mind.
She shuddered.
Dangerous.
"I thought he had broken your arm." Kuroro said curiously, looking at her again.
"He did." Aika responded cynically. "Shattered is a better word to use."
"Aika!" Mike exclaimed, interrupting. "You must leave!"
"I refuse!" She said in an equally obstinate tone of voice.
She heard a dusty gasp and the sound of something hitting the ground before she had even gotten a chance to turn around and face Mike.
Another three seconds and she realized the man had gone from being in plain sight to almost behind her. Mike was on the ground, though ironically, there was no blood in sight. Either that, or the veil of night made it too dark to see.
"No..." She frowned, taking a step backward. "No, this can't be-"
"Surely this isn't a new sight to a Ryuuseigai orphan? Death is a fact here, almost within the norm." The man stated coldly, as if listing mere figures.
It was all so anticlimactic. Wasn't there supposed to be valiant struggle, a bit of screaming and fighting and flipping and kicking? Wasn't the good guy always supposed to win?
She didn't realize she was speaking aloud until the other interrupted her thoughts. With a cruel smirk, he answered: "Mike Alabaster was not a good guy, little girl." Then more quietly he said: "What an unlikely duo to begin with."
"Why?" She repeated, feeling tears prick her eyes. "He was my only friend!" She started shouting, feeling her face get hot. "No one else ever comes near me!"
"Was he… important to you?"
"Mike was a good guy. To me, he was important." She growled.
"Little girl, why are you standing here talking to me?" Kuroro sighed. "Go to sleep. It's well past your bedtime."
She drew in a breath to retort something back –retort whatback, there was nothing to say… but before she could say the first word, he was gone.
And so was the body beside her.
"It was so gentle, so gentle that is was almost cruel."
-Aisume
She stayed up to watch the sun rise. Drying blood was beginning to turn brown on the dust ground next to her. Strangely enough, the chess board had not been touched.
She looked at her hands. Surely, this was not a normal reaction to watching someone get murdered right before your eyes. Shouldn't she have been traumatized like everyone else?
A pang hit her square in her chest when she realized that she didn't even get to see how Mike died. A knife wound? That was the most probable. Maybe the man had broken Mike's neck.
Mike, Mike, Mike.
Aika cringed, disliking how the name sounded, echoed, wouldn't let her go.
Aika suddenly lashed out at the chess board, hating how it sat there soundlessly, an aching reminder of last night.
A monster. A monster, monster, a monster. That's what she was. Again, she looked at her hands. She could not touch anything without feeling like a danger, could not flip the pages in her book before double checking that she wasn't focusing too much, could not hold the bread steady without having to forcibly calm the shaking in her fingertips. Hers were hands that stole, stole goods, stole food, stole life, stole everything and more and manipulated things for her own good.
Aika clawed herself to her feet and dragged her body over to the corner of the alley where the sun would not reach for several more minutes as it began its ascent.
Her foot suddenly brushed up against something, the photograph from last night.
Aika picked it up slowly, taking care with her hands. The man in the photograph was, without dispute, the old man she played chess with every night once the sun began to set, the old man who threw bread at her every damn day.
Crumpling it into herself, Aika balled up in the long shadows provided by the walls of the alleyway and waited for sleep to take her.
"I cannot live, I cannot die, trapped in myself."
-One by Metallica
A/N: AHAHAHAHA sorry my writing gets really bad after midnight, and guess what time it just so happens to be? Anyways, I'm trying to update more often and stay more motivated, to stay tuned!
ALSO. I JUST REALIZED THAT OCHRE MEANS A YELLOWISH GOLD COLOR. I AM VERY SORRY. KURORO'S EYES ARE OCHRE. I thought they meant like pitch black. But I'm too lazy to go back and search for my mistakes, I'm sorry. So pretend like I said black in those moments.
PLEASE reand and review, your guys' feedback always always always makes my day! Thank you for taking the time to do so! ^.^
A/N 2: HEY GUYS! :) so i did a once over of the chapter and realized that it was very disorganized and juvenile sounding. someone told me that my fanfiction kind of sucks so i tried going back and editing. sorry it hasn't been up to your standards haha. anyways, i fixed some inor spelling errors and tried to make more natural and flow a bit better. thanks for your support so far! i think ill go through and do this for most of the chapters since i've hit chapter 10 now ;) thanks again! see you soon!