I'm really sorry about the lateness of this update. I have been writing other stories, been on far too many vacations, and in general not wanting to screw this chapter up because of a writer's block. Every time I tried to write, it ended up lifeless. A weird term, I know, but what I wrote down was uninspired jumbles of words.
Her ears picking up a familiar pattering and splattering rhythm from far away, Kyoko sniffed the air, sensitive nose picking up the fresh, unmistakeable scent.
She had to move quickly, otherwise the medicine she had gotten would be contaminated by the rain from the storm ten minutes away.
The merchant in front of her watched as she observed all of this, mind slightly dazed with the ominous aura she radiated to connect the face with the one on the posters hanging all over Milan.
She quickly paid for the salts she was buying, and then left, blending in with the crowd before reaching an alley.
Strapping the newly bought wares to her belt, and then quickly scaling the wall, she headed back to the headquarters.
The curtain gently waved with the slight breeze she brought in as she soundlessly landed on a vine-shaded veranda.
Padding into the room, she immediately kneeled by the bedside, examining the man who still slept in a feverish sleep. Sweat dripped from his brow, and one could tell his unconsciousness was unrestful.
Pulling down the cover reveal to his bare abdomen and legs, enough covering him so indecency was not an issue. (a slight coloring on her cheeks, in spite of aforementioned precautions) she looked at his wounds, trying not to wince at the apparent pain they would cause.
None of them looked very pretty, to be honest.
Redness was around the edges of the wounds, and a white liquid oozed from them, soaking the bandages in a thick, white and red bloody mix.
She stoked the fire in the corner of the room, checking the water that had hung over it while she was out. A cloud of steam greeted her as she poured some into a cup, and then a bowl.
Pouring some sake into the cup, (the almost acidic smell making her cough) she mixed in the salts and strange medicines she had gotten.
Into the bowl went a higher concentration of alcohol, along with a lot of salt. Taking a clean cloth, she allowed it to soak in the strong-smelling mixture.
She gently lifted Ren's head off of the pillows, and opened his mouth wide enough so he drank the foul-smelling liquid. The bubbles from it (how it got bubbles had her staring suscipously at the fizzing cup for a few minutes) must have tickled their way down his throat, because he was coughing with each sip.
After holding his head up for a time to ensure his continued breathing, she allowed him to drop back onto the mattress and back into his fevered sleep.
It hit her, watching his face after her work for any stirs of consciousness, how harmless he looked.
How harmless he was.
A knife could easily slip inside the hard ribcage with the large gash, hitting his heart or lung. A blade could slice across his throat. He would never breathe again. Could never breathe again.
He was defenseless.
It made her wonder at herself, as she wrung out the now orange colored cloth, the alcohol stinging her nose, how much trouble she was going through from someone she could so easily kill. Someone who had almost killed her.
But he hadn't killed her.
He had had the dagger at her throat, one slice away from an eternally missing Kyoko Mogami. But then leniency had come knocking for some abstract reason into his decision, and he had spared her her life.
She had hated him. The scar on her stomach itched with malice whenever she thought of him, and a thirst for revenge awakened the urge to kill. An assassin's urge.
She could kill him right now, easily, and he would not make a sound. No one would notice for an extended period of time, as she was designated his caretaker, a responsibility that had seemingly come with their partnership.
But his leniency decided to hit her right in her resolve, and the thirst of revenge was dulled for a caretaker's warmth. A warmth that had not arisen in quite awhile.
"Such meticulous and caring work, Mogami." A deep voice came from the doorway, startling her. Her cold mask immediately fell into place, a customary habit by now, disguising any and all emotions.
"Voretti." Her icy voice elaborated nought on any part of his name, simply emotionless.
"One might wonder at it." He continued, ignoring her acknowledgement of his presence.
"One might, Voretti."
"Such treatment for an assassin."
Her back stiffened ever so imperceptibly. "An assassin, yes, but a person I am required to work with to participate as an active member of this organization."
He laughed, the suddenness of the action causing her to tense even more.
"You seem to have not fully grasped the meaning of being an assassin.
"An assassin is someone who kills without a backward glance. Principle-less, with no regret of their deep wrongdoings whose blood is still etched slightly into their skin.
"They have become like this because of the unpredictability of those working beside them. We're all the same, surviving by killing first.
"And should one get in our way, we shall not hesitate to get them out of it with a blade twixt the shoulders."
He drew closer to her.
"There is no trust in this organization; no lingering feelings about one another."
Ever closer, he was directly in her face.
"You should learn not to trust in people, but in their unpredictability.
"Because you will never know when the unpredictability rises until it's too late."
Clang!
He had whipped out a knife, and she had quick enough reflexes to take out her own, retaliating his surprise attack just inches from her ribcage.
Her eyes were widened, and she panted as she watched him stand with a cold smile that sent chills down her spine. She must look like Ren right now, minus the closed eyes.
"Trust in unpredictability, Mogami, as you are learning aptly, for you never know when irrationality decides to take your life. That's what being one of us means."
She heard the door slam behind him, and his heartless laughter echoing down the hallway.
She looked at the knife grasped in her hand. The same one who had the potential to kill her easily those months ago had just barely saved her life.
It was a sign of his leniency.
Glancing at the defenseless man, irrationality deep into her resolve, she decided.
Perhaps leniency was a sign of unpredictability.
You could never predict when someone decided to spare your life, either.
And that irrationality spared Ren his life.
Yashiro Yukihito sat stick-straight in his chair, exposed for the first time to the raw intuitiveness in a man he never would have guessed had an inherent bone in his body.
"I need you to follow Takarada's men, Yashiro, until you find a lead."
"Sir," he paused nervously, "if you don't mind me..." He trailed off.
"Asking for the purpose?" He said, picking up seemingly automatically on his words.
"Lory knows something about my son. I'm sure of it. Something he doesn't want me to know. And while it may be for my protection, I will not sit idle whilst my son may be in danger!
"You must be discreet. Never blow your cover. Although Lory is trying to protect us, that I'm certain, you never know what he's trying to protect us from."
Kuu stood, to stand by the window of his study.
"I don't know quite what he's hiding, but I have a feeling it's monstrous."
Moments passed, Kuu in his reverie, and Yashiro suddenly apprehensive.
"You may go, Yukihito."
"Yes, sir."
A man sighed in his bedroom, rubbing his head vigorously in an attempt to reach his burning headache from last night's intoxication.
If she were here, she would have rushed around, concern written all over her plain face, fetching herbs and hot water and making him an aromatic tonic of sorts that took the pain away within minutes.
Sometimes, he found himself missing his tool.
Not any lingering feelings, of course, but because she took care of him uncomparably to any woman since, and he didn't even have to pretend to love her. All she took was the occasional thank you and she would be in a daze for days.
"Shooooo….." A voice, coming from directly above him, demanded his attention. He glanced at his current fallen conquest, and went right back to ignoring her.
She was particularly annoying, after all.
So, did'ya enjoy that chappie? Development, which was partially why I was putting this off because I didn't want to screw it up with my 'lifeless' writing.
Although my FF activity is going to drop due to the arrival of the new school year, I am going to finish this story. No matter how long it takes, I'm not giving it up. I have too much plot planned out for that. :p
An error hit me from the first chapter as I read the story to freshen up on what was going on. It was wayyyy back, (seems like forever!) in one of the first paragraphs, (you probably don't remember) when I was writing that whole 'Rain. It fell from the sky...' thing. Later on I wrote, 'The drops fell down Juliet's face, making her appear as if she was lamenting her and her lover's cruel fate.' Do you remember that part?
Well, it was completely historically inaccurate for Juliet to be in Verona. She wouldn't be in Verona, (her statue, I mean) because Shakespeare's great-great grandparents wouldn't even be alive then. (I believe that Shakespeare was born in the 1700's? That's probably wrong...) Therefore, Romeo and Juliet would not be in existence as of then, and there would be no statue to commemorate that depressing piece of literature.
Major error. I was thinking of Verona, trying to visualize it enough so I could write it, and immediately thought of the fact it took place there. And there you go, Juliet in the 1400's.
Apologies for confusion. Not that that explanation helped, either.
So, should I revise that part? I feel as if it was very confusing as to when the story is taking place.
Thank you for sticking with this story, it has been awhile!
Ahhh, long author's notes. They seem to have elongated as of late...