The man, intoxicated, did not make much of a sound when he was strangled. Now, he lies open on the floor beside Kageyama, covered in blood, bile and filth. The blood is gathering into a small but rapidly growing pool beside his feet. He steps to the side a little, careful not to come into contact with the liquid.
The knife in his hand had made quick but meticulous work on the man's major organs. Cigarettes jut out from small openings he's made in the man's blackened lungs and he fills the stomach to the brim with pills.
(Those are over-the-counter pills, but it's the thought that counts.)
The body stinks of rotten corpses and he breathes through his mouth in a futile attempt to curb the sick feeling welling up inside him. Alcohol goes in the liver, he thinks, injecting the aforementioned substance into said organ.
After all is done, he sews up the body with deft fingers. Next, the man's jacket is pulled over his body to hide the scars. I wonder how long it'll be before they find out.
Kageyama slips off his latex gloves and stuffs them into an empty zip-lock bag, taking with him the only hope the police have of finding the killer.
His mind drifts to his next possible kill. For the past months or so, all his murders were committed near this area. I need to find another place to target when the police tighten the security of this place, he frowns, irked. This place is convenient and not that easily traceable. He likes it here.
Swinging a leg over the seat of the motorcycle, Kageyama switches on the engine. "This shall be my last kill here, then," he mumbles, taking off.
A pair of eyes watches him from the shadows.
Kageyama glances in the rear view mirror. The road is cold and bare, the night is dead, no one should be driving about at this time, other than himself.
So why is there another motorcycle behind him?
He keeps glancing to the mirror, trying to be subtle about the fact that he's noticed this other lone motorist. Kageyama takes in the features of the person, or, he tries to, but the night is too dark. Neither of their headlights is on.
Feeling something off with the rider, he speeds up a little, passing the turn he should be making to return to the apartment. It's not safe to lead them, whoever they are, to my place. The driver seems to have caught on to this change of pace and the motorcycle tailing him accelerates.
I knew this last kill was a bad mistake, seems like the assassin who's been sniffing around had caught my pattern, he realises, annoyed. Leaning to the right, his motorcycle makes an abrupt turn into a narrow lane. He needs to throw the other off his trail.
Another glance in the rear view mirror- They're getting closer!
He speeds up, now anxious, thoughts suddenly in a chaotic mess-
He steals another quick look at the rear view mirror.
Wait, I've seen her before, she is-
Eyes darting from the mirror to the road to the mirror to-
A gun!
Kageyama swerves as bullets hit the black tarmac road where he was just moments ago. He swears under his breath.
She's Yachi.
Goddamnit all-as another round is fired, a bullet cutting too close for comfort, missing the side of his face by a mere inch-
He makes another fast turn into an alleyway before she can catch up-
Yachi steps down from the vehicle. This turn leads to a dead end, there's no rush. The pistol, equipped with a suppressor is gripped tight between skilled fingers.
Pointing it to the mouth of the alleyway, Yachi enters.
I see the motorcycle lying there, but the Sire is nowhere in sight.Eyes flickering about and taking in the possible hiding places, the teen confirms, No trace of him anywhere around, so it must be-
Yachi jumps backwards, narrowly missing a blunt hit to the head.
Kageyama doesn't waste a second to recover as he swings the club again. Good thing I found this lying in against the wall, he thinks.
He sees her getting the gun ready and delivers a kick- she can't manoeuvre out of the way in time- it gets her on the side of her shoulder and then there's the clutter of metal against stone. He kicks the gun away.
Kageyama brings out his knives- sweet things- turning them on his attacker without a moment of hesitation. She dodges- skilled fighter- pulls out her own dagger, gleaming menacingly in the dull light.
Yachi meets his blades, pushing with a surprising strength that matches his. He falters for a second too long.
She switches to the offensive immediately. He retaliates. Not strong enough. Not quick enough. A true agent of death, he realises, is absurdly skilled in combat, even though they would mostly stick to the shadows.
Seems like someone sent their best shot here, Kageyama grimaces.
He moves, barely avoiding the thrusts of the dagger.
Almost grazed him-
Just meeting the blows- his knife-
Drops-
Clatters-
He sees an opening just as she aims for his stomach and kicks and then he feels the dagger digging into something- and he's panicking-
-and then she's reeling and collapsing on the ground and there's no blood on his stomach or anywhere else and he's not stabbed.
He'snot stabbed.
Kageyama flees from the scene.
In the aftermath of this violent encounter, a figure slumps on the greasy concrete ground.
Ugh, kicks are the most horrible things to handle... I've gotta get Ukai to train me, my hand-to-hand combat skills are getting worse,Yachi grumbles, wheezing from the pain.
The assassin stands up, stumbling, still rather dizzy. Taking tentative footsteps to the vehicle still waiting patiently by the roadside, something on the floor caught Yachi's trained eyes.
I'm pretty sure I haven't seen this just now... what is it anyways- oh? Milk candy, huh. Did it drop out of the Sire's pocket? I'm pretty sure I created a tear in it just before he kicked me.
"Meh, what's important now is that I go home, take a well-deserved shower and get a good rest. Yep, that sounds like a good plan."
The candy is dropped into the front pocket of a battered leather jacket, for Yachi to think about later.
Sometimes Hinata likes to think about his life.
He's had a lot of ups and downs throughout these eighteen years on earth, but recently something good has happened and he feels alive just thinking about it.
Or rather, him.
"Ugh, Kageyama, get out of my head already," Hinata whines pathetically into his pillow. A glance at his mirror reveals a red face and he can't help but groan. So embarrassing, he thinks.
Hinata's thoughts drift to that certain black-haired individual who tosses to him and goes on sleepovers with him and burns his food and has strikingly intimidating aura but is actually friendly and has lips that appear very soft and kis-
"I've got it bad," he realises, aghast.
Honestly, though, why him of all people? There'sKenmafrom work and Michimiya from fifth floor and childhood friend Sugawara, andyet-
Hinata sighs, "And yet, I fell for such a weird kid like Kageyama. I mean," here he waves his arms around as though to make a point, "It's as though he's obsessed with Sire Noble, the way he acts. But I guess he's more obsessed with volleyball and maybe meas well..."
Hinata falls silent again with no one to listen to his laments, a small blush gracing his cheeks.
Sometimes Kageyama can be really nice, he gave me back my wallet and tossed to me and treated me to food and even brought me to a volleyball match-
Something clicks in his mind.
Kageyama, having stayed at a hotel for the night, checks out in the morning around nine. The weather is good, he can already feel his moods lifting despite last night's horrible encounter. On his way back to the apartment, Kageyama decides that today will be a good day.
Like that day I woke up to Hinata's breakfast, he hums.
He reaches the apartment after a short walk and takes the lift to his floor. The key in his hand feels cool to the touch. Unlocking the door with a click, he enters the apartment and turns around to close the door firmly.
Stepping out of his boots, he lines them up neatly beside the door before standing again.
Kageyama turns around to a sight that shakes him to the core.
Hinata Shouyou stares back at him, face colder than Kageyama has ever seen before. His eyes, a swirling storm of rage and anguish and sorrow, betrays the cool exterior he puts on. Red frames the white of his eyes. His lips are drawn like a tightrope, thin and dangerous.
In his hand is a gun. The gun points to Kageyama.
"H-Hinata? Wha-"
"SHUT UP!"
Shocked to silence, Kageyama swallows.
Hinata continues on, all the while staring, all the while shaking. His voice cracks.
"I-"
The sound is wet and chocked and intense, he stops, overwhelmed, then forces the words out.
"I am Yachi Hitoka, a professional hitman. I am here to kill you."
A/N: I'm sorry.