Chapter 19
Bermot
What was the point?
A woman was on her knees, bruised and battered. Blue eyes stared blankly toward the concrete floor. As the violent winds swept across an abandoned warehouse, the derelict rusted walls creaked—bending in a low, ominous groan. Purple clouds were gathering in the sky, signaling a coming storm.
"Maria Kristoff," Gin said, holding up a thumb drive and dangling it in front of the woman's face. He taunts her with it before inserting it into the small pocket of her purple shirt. She has cracked lips and is bleeding profusely. Bruises cover her left eye, purple and swollen. Lips parted, nose flattened, she breathed through her mouth. "36-year-old, computer technician, level six clearance," the silver-haired man continued. Gin smiles wickedly, leaning forward. Maria recoils, her gaze shifting away from his piercing eyes.
"Tell me," Gin drawled, "What were you planning to do with the data stolen from our databases?"
Although the woman remained silent, she trembled. It was a mistake. He could smell her fear. "I'll give you a chance," Gin said with an insidious grin. From his pockets, he pulled out a white, red pill. A legacy inherited from her parents. It's been four months since she graduated from the university. During this time, she has been relocated to an isolated laboratory hidden in New York City. Apparently, it had been her parent's starting place. The information was tremendous, and she worked, following orders from a hidden entity shrouded in mystery. Orders—from the boss himself.
Gin was still her handler, and she was now fifteen.
Was there any point in fighting this?
Gin shoved the pill into the woman's face, and she flinched. The drug was still in its experimental phase, and Shiho knew what it did. The rats—traitors were a testament to it. "I won't give you anything," the woman spat, sending blood splattering on Gin's cheek. Shiho tightened her grip on the blue tarp she was holding, looking away as Gin wiped the blood, smearing it across.
"This is APTX-4869, a prototype of sorts, developed by our own prodigy, Sherry," he stated. With methodical calmness, Gin conveyed enmity. "You see, it is said to be a miracle drug," he shoves it into her cheeks. "However, it is not yet finished and needs to be tested."
"Let's cut the bullshit, Gin!" Maria snapped, not holding back anymore. "If you must, kill me! I'm not playing your games!" Fury rages through her as she sits, bound by the restraints Shiho had tied her with. An order she could not go against. "I've got nothing to lose, so do whatever you want!" she yelled. Her determination was cut short when Gin laughs. It echoed through the air, almost melodious in nature. Shiho watched it unfold, burying her emotions deep, numbing herself to the consequences that Maria would face.
"That's right; an orphan from birth, taken in by the FBI, and trained like a dog," Gin intoned, "You'll die like one as well."
A soft cynical laugh escapes the woman's lips. Maria stares defiantly at Gin, "Do you think that scares me? You've got to try harder," she mocks, and Gin falls silent. His stoic expression held back a madness that Shiho had learned to read. The quiet volcanic anger boiling at the surface of his placid stare. It was—the calm before the storm.
"We'll see," Gin forced the pill into the woman's mouth with a single swipe. While she struggled, he cupped his gloved hand over her lips, squeezing them as she choked—swallowing it whole.
"Traitor."
The woman gasped loudly at his sudden aggression.
"Sherry," Gin wipes his hands on his coat. He stood, dismissing Maria Kristoff. "Do it right this time. There must be no evidence." He grabbed his phone and began reporting the completion of the mission—before walking out of the warehouse.
"What have you done?" Maria shouted desperately after him. Bruised and battered, the woman struggled once more. She looked weak. Shiho drops the tarp as the woman convulsed, wailing in agony. The pills, her creation—taking effect.
"What...what's going on?" Maria screamed again. The woman arched her back, soaked in sweat, blue eyes screaming silently in agony. It was akin—to being burnt alive. This was the testimony of a subject that survived the first trial. A trial her parents had kept track of in old files littered around the laboratory.
"What did you do?" Maria hyperventilates.
What was the point in trying?
"It'll be over soon," Shiho whispered.
Screams echoed throughout. Attempting to intervene was futile. "Help…Help me!" the woman rasped, twisting, curling within herself. Shiho numbed herself to the suffering before her.
She was a stranger, a nobody. Maria had betrayed the organization and deserves no mercy. Even if she were to escape, she would be hunted nonetheless.
"Please...please," she pleaded, tears spilling down her cheeks soaked in blood. Broken and bruised, the woman was still trying.
"Please," her voice grew weaker. It echoed in Shiho's ears. A last request.
Shiho kneels beside the woman and, using her knife, cuts the ropes binding her. Suddenly, Maria grabs her, blood seeping from her eyes. Shiho takes a sharp breath. "At least..." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the thumb drive, which she passed to Shiho. "Please…"
She slumped, collapsing onto Shiho. They fell to the ground. Taking one last breath, Maria Kristoff rasped, and she was gone. The warmth of her body dissipated. Shiho studied the thumb drive in her hand slowly.
What was the point…in any of this?
Shutting her eyes, she gathers herself. The woman's screams, suffering, and death flood her mind in a symphony of anguish. Her creations had been used yet again.
Erase it.
Shiho had to focus on the task at hand. Pushing the body away from her, she got up slowly. She slipped the thumb drive into her pocket and began to wrap the body in the blue tarp. It was heavy, the woman a dead weight. Bodies usually were.
Dead eyes stared blankly at hers, and she closed them with gloved hands. She looked at her watch and calculated the time. The drug took three minutes to take effect, a significant improvement from the last time. Turning the body over, she found a slight indication of veins popping from the neck. They seemed to be expanding, and she noted it with cold medical precision. With effort, she pulled the tarp over the body, covering it. She taped down the sides using duct tape, wrapping the body in a tight bundle.
"Is it done?" Gin emerges. Moving like a phantom menace that made her blood go cold. She tensed as he placed his hand over her shoulder. As he reviewed her work, he smiled brightly. Proud.
"Good," was his only response. Taking the body with one hand, Gin slings it over his back. Shiho watched as he proceeded toward the docks. There was a flash of lightning, followed by a sudden downpour. The water soaking through, heavy…cold…Shiho gritted her teeth, the guilt from what had happened carved into her bones. Gin ties a concrete weight around the wrapped body. There was another flash of lightning and a sudden clap of thunder.
He kicks the body off the dock. The substantial weight of the concrete did its job as the tarp sank into the darkness of the never-ending ocean beneath the choppy waves. "Let's go," Gin commanded as she gazed into the depths.
"Sherry!" he called again, and she moved.
What was the point in all of this?
Her hands reached into her pockets; a thumb drive was tucked between them.
"Down with the fishes, she goes," Gin laughs as he begins the engine. She stared at the stormy skies as she sank into leather seats. "A dog to the very end," he hums as the Porsche rolls forward, "Won't you agree?"
Golden eyes piercing through.
"Sherry."
There was no point.
The missions continued, and so did the experiments. The knowledge she had acquired from her years in the university bore fruit. Compound chemical structures, organic chemistry, and methodological records of her parents, two mad scientists, made it easier to develop the drug.
Notes on experiments run on mice... and humans volunteered by the organization were written with a practical approach. A list of people who have died is kept between Miyano Atsushi's notes. But they still went on. Her parents felt no remorse for what they had created. Shiho—no, Sherry, it would seem, was the same.
It was the dead of night. Gin parked the Porsche next to a large blue mansion. They were on a mission to eliminate an adversary who refused the organization's contracts. Reports in the file indicate that George Fielding, a data analyst, had threatened to expose the organization. His fate—now sealed. He should have kept his mouth shut.
Gin pulled the tarp from the trunk and signaled for Shiho to take it. A gun was concealed in his pocket. The mansion was located next to a forest. Gin led the way as they passed by tall iron-fenced gates. Behind was a well-maintained courtyard. Standing within it was a fountain with a statue of Mother Mary, hands held high, praying fervently for mercy. Gin opens the side gate with expert ease after cracking the lock. Under the shadows of the willow trees, they made their way through the garden.
There was a soft rustle, the crunch of branches snapping, and Gin spun around. A pistol in hand, he pointed towards the shadows. She emerged from the thicket as golden eyes blazed. With hands raised, she regarded them with pale green eyes. Blonde, slightly curly hair flowed, glistening softly under the silver moonlight. Her tight leather suit accentuated her curves perfectly. Smacking her lips slightly, the woman reveals scarlet lipstick and a sly cat-like smile. "Gin," she greeted, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Vermouth," Gin growls. He tightened his fingers around the trigger, and his eyes hardened, almost showing displeasure. Shiho had never seen him this way before. Taking a step over slowly, the woman laughed almost mirthlessly. She reached out with deft fingers and pushed the gun down. She moved with grace, seemingly gliding effortlessly through the sea of darkness. Like Gin, she made no sound, moving like a ballerina of death. While Shiho had heard about her, the boss's favorite, they had never met.
"What are you doing here," Gin barely kept his tone.
"A mission," she replied cryptically as Gin glared at her.
"I assume we share the same objective," she replied. Gin eyed her pointedly, and he snorted.
"I'm sure," he muttered. He disliked her. Hatred bled from his aura. He couldn't hide it. Not from Sherry and certainly not from Vermouth.
"Why the long face, Gin?" the woman teased as they made their way through the forested maze of trees. "Aren't we on the same team?"
"A rat will never be on the same team," Gin pushed past her, and she shrugged. "You always seem so cautious. Didn't I tell you to trust me?"
"Don't make me laugh, woman," Gin sneers, "You're only alive because the boss favors you. You are disposable."
Shiho watches as the tension builds between the two. It was hard to listen, and she hugged the tarp tighter. The woman chuckled darkly. "I guess, but so are you, Gin."
He snorts as the woman glances toward Shiho. "A little green, don't you think?" Vermouth asked Gin, "for a mission like this."
"This is Sherry, Vermouth," Gin replied, and the woman paused. For a brief moment, the woman's eyes widened in recognition before hardening. "Elena's child?" she asked, and Gin nodded. Bearing a crooked smile, the woman approached her. Shiho flinched as hands ran down her cheeks. The simmering heat of scorn and fear were buried beneath the calm demur. She couldn't conceal it, not with eyes burning with hate. The woman's smile vanished, and she dug her fingernails into flesh, drawing blood—leaving a scar. Shino kept her emotions under control. Pressure emanating from the woman threatens to erode her composure.
"I see the resemblance," Vermouth pulls away, before making her way forward. Her words, barely audible, a hidden message, chills Shiho to the bone.
"Monster."
Shiho controlled the tremors racing through her body.
When they reached the entrance, Vermouth picked the lock, and they were in. Gin whistled, and the huge foyer echoed with his voice. A long red carpet covered the white marble floors. Leading up a circular staircase. The ceiling was adorned with a crystal chandelier, and potted plants were displayed in decorative vases. Two Greek-style limestone lions stand beside a staircase that leads to what Shiho assumes are the bedrooms. The mansion was enormous, and Gin was thrilled.
"I will round them up," Vermouth said to Gin, who pulled out his gun. As he twists a silencer into position, he points at Shiho. "Prepare the body bags," he orders. "I will be back soon."
"Gin, some discretion, please," Vermouth chided, and the man smirked. "You do your job. I'll do mine."
Vermouth shrugged, shaking her head in disdain. The tarp Shiho laid on the ground was more extensive than usual. Almost the size of the foyer itself, it covered the floor, and she could only shudder at the idea of what would come. Balling her fist and closing her eyes, she repeats a mantra. Quelling a burning remorse that was growing, expanding in her chest like a forest fire. By the wall, a grandfather clock ticks softly. This rhythm creates a feeling of foreboding that settles in the air. Standing rigid in the empty hall, Shiho waits.
Something was coming. There was the sound of flesh rubbing against the marble floor. The body was heavy and sluggish, and when Gin finally appeared, he dumped it on the tarp. The deceased was a servant, possibly in his mid-50s. An exit wound was made by a bullet through his forehead. Blood gushed as a man stared blankly, mouth agape. Shiho turned away when Gin motioned for her to follow him.
Heavy boots thud ominously on marble floors. Shiho walked past the kitchen, down the decorated corridors, and into the servant quarters. It was a sight straight out of a horror movie. On the beds lay the silent corpses of the quarter servants. Among the victims, some were facing up, their mouths open in shock, while others were strewn on the ground, trying to flee but to no avail. The remainder were pinned to the bed, their heads riddled with bullets. Blood smeared the floor, and the smell of gunpowder permeated the room.
He picks up a young woman and throws her to the ground like a sack of rubbish. "Get rid of it," he commanded. Shiho should be used to this. She had to be. The missions he had taken her on gradually dulled her senses but—
Staring back at her were blank eyes. Accusing, sad, and it mixed, swirling with that of a gentle giant. Lips quivering, she bit down hard, took a deep breath, and composed herself once more. Grabbing the woman, she drags her across the room, down the corridors, and past the collection of paintings depicting wild deer and cattle. Eyes staring down at her from within the pictures. Like an animal, the woman's life was discarded like garbage. Shiho shook away the thought. Her eyes hardened as she geared up for the task at hand.
Slowly, the minutes passed by in an almost hypnotic manner. Shiho felt like she was moving underwater—the shadows clung to her as she continued dragging the bodies through many times over. Ten. She counted ten. Slaughtered like the cattle depicted in the paintings. Shiho arranged the bodies neatly next to one another. Gin appeared and wiped the gun with a bloody cloth before throwing it crudely on the victims.
"Vermouth!" he bellowed. The mansion cleared out from within. There was no need to sneak anymore. "What's taking you so long?"
After a prolonged silence, Shiho stumbled back as children emerged from the shadows. Their shrieks reverberated through the foyer as they were pushed out. A man and a woman follow after. Taking in sharp breaths at the pile of bodies in front of them.
"Patience, Gin," Vermouth mused, "The night is still young."
"What is going on here?" George Fielding cried out in horror. The man grabs ahold of his kids and wife, shielding them from Vermouth and a silver-haired beast. Shiho looks to the ground. Memories of a recording—family killed—screaming in her ears.
"George, Anna, little Jane, and Amanda," Vermouth pointed out, "Looks like the Fieldings are all here. Are we missing anyone else?"
"The dog, perhaps," Gin jokes. Their taunts echoed through.
"Are they dead, Dad?" a little girl of about seven asked. Her eyes were wide and horrified behind her mother's protective back as she glared at the bodies. An innocent face was framed by brown shoulder-length hair. She was so young, baby fat still evident on her rosy cheeks.
"Don't look, Amanda," Anna Fielding pushes the girl behind her and hugged her tightly. The woman with fiery red hair was shivering from the terror they'd been exposed to. The white night dress she's wearing is a little torn, probably the result of a scuffle with Vermouth.
"What are you doing here? What do you want!" George shouted, the man unhinged, teeth baring as he glared at Gin and Vermouth, then at Shiho. Brown eyes simmering with rage, fury, and the undeniable darkness of fear. "I'm scared, Dad," Jane whimpered. He pushed her behind him, standing protectively in front of his family.
To protect them, he would do anything. "It's what fathers do." A voice resounding from within. And she shuts her eyes tight.
"Oh?" Gin taunted, "You don't know?"
"What makes you special? Why should I know who you are?"
"He's right," Vermouth adjusted the cap she'd just put on. With her blonde hair tied back, she was ready. "Why should he know about us?" she asked. "After all, it's the last thing he will ever see."
They gasped, and George clenched his fist in anger. "My family has nothing to do with this!" he screams, "So let them go. I'll stay. I'll do whatever you want!"
Gin laughs sinisterly and raises the gun once more. "Is that how you conduct negotiations?" he asked, and the man went still. "Would you like to try again? Come on; I'll give you a chance."
Playing his games again. The silver-haired beast mocks the man before him. George knelt on his knees, putting his forehead against the marble floor. "Please...please, let them go."
Almost desperate, he began to beg. The bodies in front were an intimidating warning. The organization was not playing around. It wanted blood, and it was going to finish what it started. "Hmm..." Gin mutters as he squats in front of the groveling man. Smiling sweetly as George glances at him.
"How should we proceed? Huh?" Gin turned to face her, the smirk an insidious nightmare. "Sherry?"
She froze, mouth going dry, lifting her hand and pressing it over her eyes. Her thoughts are in chaos. Screams, a basement, a man forcing himself over her. The phantom pain erupts between her thighs, and she bites down hard, drawing blood from her lips.
"Is that hesitation I see?" Vermouth drew closer. "Have you developed a conscience?" she scoffs.
"Sherry," Gin warns, and she swallows, forcing the words out.
"It's an order," she gives a bitter smirk, "and it must be fulfilled."
Her words falling like an anvil, George realized what she meant. Gin laughed, his eyes filled with approval. "Very good!" he praised as George and Anna screamed. The children cry as Vermouth and Gin drag them toward the tarp. They struggle, pleading with them to stop.
"Stop, please. I have money. I can pay you! Stop!" George shouted.
"Mommy!" the children screamed as a gunshot rang through the room. Shiho shuts her eyes as she hears a body drop.
"Anna!" George roared, overcome with grief. His wife was dead, blood gushing from the exit wound on her forehead. The man collapses to the floor, cradling his wife in his arms, sobbing as cries ring throughout. "Anna! Why! Why are you doing this!"
"Do you think you can threaten the organization and get away with it?"
"You're-" he shouted, realizing it too late.
The barrel of the pistol was stuffed into his mouth. And he gagged, tears gushing down, terror making him weak. "Not so tough anymore, is he," Vermouth taunts, causing the man to shiver violently in trepidation. A deafening silence followed as she pulled the trigger without hesitation. George fell to the ground and landed above the body pile on top of his wife.
"Dad!" the girls cried, their screams a terrible mixture of shock and sadness. Too young to understand what was happening.
"Don't worry," Gin told them, kicking the man's body and stepping on the stray brain oozing out from the wound. "You'll join them soon," Gin promised.
"NO! " Jane shrieked. The girl, the older of the two, stood in front of her sister, arms outstretched. Those blue eyes glared furiously and bravely at the beasts in front of her. "Don't touch her!" she growled. "You won't kill her!" she screamed. Vermouth eyed them with a sigh—standing up, she looked at Gin.
"You do it," she told him, "I can't stomach kids."
He shrugged and, with a click, pulled back the slide, pointing it once more at the girls in front of him. Jane turned around to hug her sister tightly. The sight was unreal, too cruel. This could not be happening. The girls—the sisters—Akemi.
Shiho couldn't breathe. She was once again doused in a river of guilt. It spreads, ripping through the emptiness and ice. It made her feel. Shiho rushed forward, body moving instinctively.
"What are you doi-"
She snatches the gun away from Vermouth, who stumbles from the impact. Muscle memory kicked in, and she held the gun with practiced ease. "Stop!" she shouted.
The man pauses, facing her, and she swallows the fear which erupts from his fiery stare. "What is this, Sherry?" he asked. Still pointing his gun at the girls.
"I told you to stop," Shiho commanded. He snorted. "And what are you going to do?"
Shiho fires, and he steps back. Bullets smoke as they strike the marble ground just inches from his heavy black boots. "Stop," she repeated, filling her voice with malice. She glared at the man, hatred rising from deep within. The fury swept back like an avalanche, and it would not stop. As she tightened the grip on the gun, the sense of numbness she had forced on herself began to dissolve.
"Sherry," he growled, "When would you ever learn?"
She ignores him. Turning to the girls, the gun never leaves the silver-haired beast or vile blonde-headed woman. "Take your sister," she instructed Jane. Neither girl moved, eyes wide in terror. "Take your sister and run!" she shouts, shocking them into action. Jane grabs her sister, and they were about to run when-
"Silly, silly girl," Vermouth whispered. Shiho gasped. The woman charged forward. Shiho fired. Vermouth dodged it quickly and then slammed her to the ground. Her breath caught as she was held down. Vermouth was strong, despite her slim figure. "Kill them, Gin," she seethes.
"No!" Shiho screams as Gin raises his gun. As he fires, the two girls fall. They collapsed into a heap, pressed together on the marble floors, as they bled to death.
"Sherry," Gin roared, golden eyes concealing sinister fury. He struck her.
"What did I say…about defying orders?"
He raised the gun, slamming it down. Pain erupts, and then—
Darkness.
Where was she?
Her memory was hazy. Shiho was unable to move. The walls were dirty, wet, and stained. An old antique television hung on them, blaring softly. As the news report breaks, the screen flickers and a reporter stares straight on with grim lips.
"A fire has broken out on North Canyon Road, destroying a family and their servants. The police have called it the most brutal massacre of the century. The Fieldings' charred remains were found among the wreckage of their mansion. The deceased include George Fielding—among the most influential millionaires in the west. Described as a go-getter, he developed countless security systems worldwide…"
Mansion? Bodies? Massacre.
She rasped, the memories rushing in like a torrential flood. Laying on her stomach, she was— naked. Metal cuffs were biting into her wrists, and chains around her ankles. She was bound like a pig and in—
A basement.
An old fluorescent lamp shines a bright white light on her. Every so often, it flickers, leaving her in the dark. There were dying moths on the concrete ground, flapping their wings in their final moments. A hopeless struggle. Water drips from a hissing pipe, and floorboards creak above as footsteps descend concrete stairs. Although it was summer, it was cold. Far too cold.
She gasped as water was dumped over her. It shocked the system, and she sputtered as she gagged. "She's awake now," Vermouth joked. The woman bent over, dead eyes staring into hers. Rough hands lifted her by the hair, and she found Gin glaring at her, lips pursed in a tight line.
"Disobedience," he slammed Shiho to the ground. Erase it…focus…Shiho repeated the mantra again, trying hard to numb herself to what was to come.
"Yet again, you defied orders. Another transgression to add to your long list. How many times do you think you will be forgiven?" Gin told her.
He breathed into her ear as she lay still. "How many times must we repeat this, Sherry?"
Vermouth laughed at the scene. "She'll learn Gin," said the woman. "You just haven't used the right techniques."
"Oh," Gin remarked, "Then show me."
The woman chuckled madly. She was very different from the cool, composed woman Shiho believed her to be. Under the surface of her pretty face is a remnant of a demon. A monster who had asked Gin to kill a child. As Shiho braced for another blow, nothing came.
A heavy object fell to the floor beside her. It was a cattle rod with a number imprinted on the end. It was red, molten hot, and smoking. It was used to mark animals. Shiho tensed as Gin dragged the rod across the concrete floor.
"You know, Sherry, I thought you would be different," Vermouth sneered. Metal grinds, a discordant melody that grates against her ear. "But again, I am disappointed. A hypocrite," she drags her by the hair, eyes glaring down, "Just like your mother."
"I would have liked to kill you," she continued, "But unfortunately, you're still needed."
"That doesn't mean that there aren't consequences," Gin hissed, and fear pulsated through her being. The silver-haired man emerged from the shadows. His form transformed into a beast. His eyes were red, hot, glistening with hatred and anger.
Brandishing the cattle rod, molten tip, smoking, fiery red. The glint in his eyes told her not to move. Gin hands the rod over to the woman. Vermouth gives a supercilious smile taking it by the handle.
"What did I say would happen if you betrayed us?"
She couldn't answer, and he grinned cruelly.
When a cattle rod penetrated her skin, she screamed. Metal imprinted itself, leaving a mark upon flesh. Her arms strained as she struggled. Steel cuffs chafed against her wrists. They were unrelenting. She could not escape. Vermouth then pulled away, leaving Shiho limp and soaked in sweat—faint. Smoke hangs in the air, smelling of burnt meat.
"Don't sleep yet, little kitty," Vermouth's green eyes mirroring her own, holding back decades of madness that chilled Shiho to the bone. "It's still early."
Knives, whips, belts, tasers…alcohol, Gin…his hands, dagger running down skin, scars…blood. Vermouth…cattle rods…pipes…iron. Choking…metallic stench…too much. Pain…
Shiho wasn't here. No. She was not. Repeating her mantra, enduring, wishing to—
Gin stomps down on a moth fluttering its wings in front of her. Its body was splintered and demolished as he carved into her skin. Its legs arched, twitching slightly. Black eyes penetrated her own. A jumbled mess, split apart—fractured.
Vermouth…Gin…pain. Their faces mixed, twisting into a sick game. Shiho willed herself not to feel; her body was broken, beaten, and abused. She was just a lump of flesh. She couldn't. If she did—
Onee-chan...
She was ordered to return to Japan. Covered with faint lines of bruises and scars. Gone was the innocence of a child, her eyes withholding no emotions. She immersed herself in research, continuing her parent's legacy.
They called it a miracle drug and planned to use it on humans. Extermination. There was blood on her hands. Vermouth was right. She was no different.
And life continued.
The stillness of the lab. The icy stares of her coworkers and the lists of the names her creation had killed. Gin's occasional visits.
He marked her skin with his lips, threatening her with a knife, bringing her back to her teenage years—violence. This unending lust continued throughout the night. When morning came, she lay still, frozen in fear. He leaves, taunting her with the promise of his return.
"Pathetic, Sherry," he whispered, and she was crushed. Repressed memories threatened to overwhelm her. Humiliated, Shiho takes scalding hot showers. Scrubbing until her skin turned red—until it bled. The dirt wouldn't come off. She was not clean.
When her sister was able to, she visited. Her familiar warmth contrasts sharply with the hopeless life she led in America. Akemi Miyano was bigger, taller, and more beautiful than Shiho had envisioned. Her kindness ever-changing. Shiho had never planned to disclose anything. Her sister was different, and she wanted to keep her sister from crossing the veil. But as she plunged into the depths of grief, Akemi appeared—her lifeline, a beacon of light.
On that fateful day, Akemi had visited her apartment unannounced. "Look, I've decided to take the day off," was her excuse, and Shiho gave in, letting Akemi in. "It's really empty," her sister lamented. There was a look of disapproval in the woman's eyes as she surveyed the blank room. Shiho had not bothered to decorate it. Besides, she was working in the lab most of the time anyway. The experiments she did were time-consuming, and she had no interest in other activities.
"Decoration time," Akemi hums as she walked around the apartment, opening the duffle bags she had brought. There was a variety of items inside. After placing a few potted plants by the windows, Akemi moved to the sofa and added some pink cushions. She then placed a teddy bear on the wooden table Shiho had acquired a few months earlier. She recoiled at the sight, remembering one that a gentle giant had given her two years ago. Despite wanting to throw it, she relented when Akemi smiled.
"Onee-chan," she sighed, and the older woman chuckled, turning around, eyes sparkling.
"Treat Mr. Cuddles well, ok."
"It has a name?"
"Of course, don't you think it's cute!"
"Mr...Cuddles..."
"Of course," Akemi's eyes twinkled with mischievousness. Then they unloaded the groceries Akemi had bought earlier. A mix of vegetables, fish cakes, and tofu with a packet of curry cubes. "You bought these ingredients to make curry?" Shiho asked, and her sister nodded.
"Japanese curry with tofu and fish cakes?"
"Why? Wouldn't they pair well with curry if they taste good on their own?"
"Onee-chan, have you cooked a day in your life?"
"How rude. Need I remind you of the drinks I prepared the other day," Akemi quipped.
"And the burnt beef stew."
Shiho watched her sister pout, and she could not help but smile. "You're mocking me," Akemi whined before they giggled, making small talk as they joked around. Shiho enjoyed the carefree environment, which was rare in her daily life. The comfortable atmosphere settled into the apartment. Her sister's presence was enough to quell the ache, and for a brief moment, Shiho was at peace.
Shiho settled on curry and tofu salad. Her sister prepared the ingredients while she cooked. Akemi takes her time cutting the carrots into shapes. Some are shaped like Sakura flowers, while others are shaped like stars. Her sister, Shiho noted, was rather talented—though a little weird.
"Tah-dah!" Akemi rolled open the daikon that she had shaved into a long continuous strip. "I saw this in a cooking program the other day!"
Her next step was to fold it. "They did something like this," Akemi stuck out her tongue, concentrating on the task at hand. Shiho watched, amazed, as the thin strip formed the shape of a swan. "Done!" Akemi exclaimed. It would have taken professional chefs a year to master such a skill, but here her sister stood, an enigma of a woman with many talents.
"Ever thought of competing in a variety show, Onee-chan?"
"You know that's not possible," a sad smile forms on Akemi's lips. Shiho returned her attention to the curry. The sisters chose not to dwell on the entity—the curse— that monitored their every move.
With the curry done, the rice steamed, and the salad prepared, they set the table. The daikon swan was delicately placed on top of the piping hot curry by Akemi. Shiho shook her head as her sister took multiple photographs of it, sending them to her friends. Akemi then grabbed her and snapped a selfie before she could react. "Got you!" she exclaimed in glee.
"Onee-chan," Shiho casting the woman a withering glance, and Akemi laughed. The two sat at the table. Akemi drank from a can of beer, giving some to Shiho, who was underage. She giggles when Shiho makes a face at the bitterness of Japanese beers.
"So, have you met anyone yet?" Akemi inquired later. It was her sad attempt at girl talk. They were seated by the sofa while the heater kept the room warm. Shiho rested her chin on her knees as she looked at the woman. "No," Shiho replied, her sister frowning.
"Nobody? Not even a crush? Come on, Shiho, that can't be."
Shiho gave her sister a quick smile, "I didn't have time," she made an excuse. Akemi was curious about her life in America. Shiho told her half-truths. About college, about the lessons, barely touching on the organization— of Daniel, Aperol, Vermouth or Gin.
The mere mention of his name makes her freeze.
"Shiho?"
She swallowed, forcing the pain down. "I must have eaten way too much," she said with a smile.
"Hmm..." Blue azure eyes staring into her own, "Your right, it's getting late. Let me prepare the bath. It's time for kids to sleep anyway." Akemi grinned cheekily.
"I'm hardly a child," Shiho quipped, and the woman rubbed her head roughly, messing up her hair as she protested.
"No matter what happens, you'll always be my baby sister, Shiho."
And it was warm again. Shiho goes still, relaxing into her sister's touch, letting her guard down. It—
had been a mistake.
"I'm bringing the towels in," Akemi called out, and before Shiho could stop her, Akemi pulled open the bathroom door. "Where should I place it?" her sister stands with the pink towels at hand. She looked at Shiho, pausing for a moment. Her eyes widened when she spotted the marks that ran down Shiho's naked back.
"What-"
Shiho could explain the faint scars but not the mark they had burned into her with the molten cattle rod.
Akemi could barely speak. Her horrified expression was enough. Slamming the door shut, Shiho pushed her out, cursing at the lack of locks in the apartment.
"Shiho! Let me in!" her sister slams her fists against the door, trying to force it open. Shiho leaned her weight against it. With teeth gritted, her mind swirled, mixed with screaming dead families. Her emotions were a turbulent mess. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to gain control. Panic ravaged her. Blood rushing into her ringing ears made her lightheaded.
"What happened, Shiho? What did they do to you!" Her sister was frantic, the door shaking from desperation. Shiho could not answer. She never wanted Akemi to find out about this. Not her sister. It was too dangerous. Anyone who gets too close—
"Gets killed."
She gasped, and Akemi hits the door one last time. Desperation turned into despair and then anger. "Did you let them do this to you? Shiho! Answer me!"
The accusation was too much, and pain stabs through.
"Where were you," she snarled. Sorrow seared like an iron, her throat dry from the strain. Agony rushed through her body, and she could not stop.
"Where were you, Akemi? You have no right to question me about my past!" Resting her forehead against the wooden door, exhaustion crept in. A weight descended over her, and hot tears ran down her cheeks. "I kept my promise, didn't I," Shiho whispered, "I came back."
Clenching her fists, nails bit into her palms. "So, please, just...let me lie."
Rasping when she was done, she choked, struggling to breathe. The pain festering, growing into an excruciating ache. And in her moment of weakness, Shiho lets go of the door.
Akemi pries it open. In shock, the raven-haired woman looked at her in disbelief, the agony visible behind wavering eyes. Shiho, conscious of her scars, wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to hide the shame. "Please," she forced out, "Please leave me—"
Arms wrapped around her, squeezing her tightly, embracing her as if her life depended on it. "Shiho," tears ran down her eyes, "Shiho, I'm so sorry."
She had intended to keep her sister away. For Akemi to live—free from the darkness. To keep her innocence, to be left out of the cruel reality of their situation. They were slaves born into an organization that would never let them go. Shiho had hoped her sister could live a normal life. She had wanted to protect that peace—but like always—she was not strong enough.
No, she was never strong enough.
The words spilled from her lips, her past revealed for the first time. Encasing the room with hurt, with the memories of abuse, torture, murder, violence, of—rape. Akemi took it all in, burdened with the darkness she carried.
And when she was finished, her sister had cradled her, whispering nothing but comfort.
Shiho could not take back her words. Akemi had been tainted. There was no way back.
"Dai-chan will help us," Akemi whispered. Though the plan was never fully formed, it was in the works. "I know what he is, and he'll help us."
Her sister's boyfriend, a man, shrouded in mystery. Shiho had never met him, but she had heard about him. He was among the best, an expert hitman who never missed his mark. A cover, a guise—her sister trusted him, and Shiho was inclined to believe him.
On that day, a plan had been devised, and her sister was confident it would work.
"We're getting out of here," her sister promised, determination in her eyes. "I love you, Shiho."
"Onee-chan, wait…"
"Don't worry, Shiho," Akemi reassured her, "I'll be ok."
Like a broken record, her last words replayed in her mind. It would not stop, compounding into a nightmarish scream that turned her world upside down. She couldn't even say goodbye. The last moments of her sister were captured in a newspaper article. Her life was snuffed out, forgotten, discarded. Like the people, she has doomed with her creation. Who could she blame? Moroboshi Dai, her sister's boyfriend? The organization? Herself? Was this her punishment?
There was no reason to continue on, was there?
Akemi was gone.
"Onee-chan," she reached for her sister, the black void engulfing them. Shiho had dragged her sister into this. Had torn Akemi's life away. Her words were cursed, and she had cursed him too. The drug that was meant to kill—shrunk her instead. She had desired oblivion but found him instead.
He was never meant to find out. He was never meant to know.
His words offered comfort and a promise of a future. She had felt secure in his arms, in his world. It was like a dream. Free from violence. From fear. From Gin. Buried memories, locked away. Carefree days that she longed for existed— friends who cared, a professor. A family, and—
Kudou Shinichi.
She will not taint him. Not like Daniel, or Ryuu-san—not like Akemi.
Shiho will disappear from his life. She, at least, owed him that much.
Part 3/3- :) I hope you enjoyed it.
Thanks for the reviews, really appreciate the feedback.
And now...the story ("truly") :D starts XD XD