Hi guys! Guess who's back! Here we are with another chapter of Assassin Among Heroes! You know the drill, I own nothing, read, review, moo, yodelayheehoo.

Thanks to theMadlad and Old Man of the Mountain for helping me with this!

Chiyoda Ward is one of the older wards of Tokyo. The Imperial Palace and its gardens dominated most of its area, so it doesn't boast the title of the most populous ward in Tokyo. Low white-painted houses aligned its clean, narrow streets, and a calm, quiet air hung around the neighborhood. Everyone was away at work or school, so that gave me plenty of freedom to operate.

The trouble? I don't know yet what exactly am I supposed to be looking for. I've been walking along the northern district for half an hour, and I've felt no 'uneasiness' nor seen any suspicious-looking buildings. Not even a hangar or a warehouse.

'Patience, contractor,' Mawla gently chides me.

'I know, I know, I haven't even reached the northern area.' I idly kick a stray pebble. 'Doesn't mean it's not frustrating.'

'I had thought that I had the value of patience instilled into thee already.'

'It has, but then again, I wasn't living with the constant threat of a fresh corpse appearing frequently to draw me out before.'

'Irrelevant. The timetable might be stricter, but this is a hunt like any other. Now, focus.'

I let out a hum. Nope, still nothing. I turn and allow a businessman furiously talking on his phone to walk past me, not that he would have noticed. My Concealment and Quirk are working at max capacity; I am seen and heard by none and see and hear all - within a certain radius at least. The streets do not change in style as I traverse through them. I suppose there is an odd comfort to that; at the very least if things go south, I'll be able to make my way out easily.

'...nice neighborhood, huh?'

What? It's not like I can whip out my phone and play some games. Might as well pass the time with some conversation.

'Yes. 'Tis peaceful stretch of civilization. I find that I prefer it to the constant noise that seems to permeate this modern age.'

'Heh. Well, coming from you, that makes more sense, what with you living on a mountain for decades.'

'Forty years well-spent. Prayer, meditation, and teaching filled my time, and I was content with the path that Allah had laid out before me.'

'More power to you, Mawla. I don't think I can imagine myself doing those kinds of things for forty straight years. I like my alone time, but that seems a bit too excessive. That, and my Mom would drag me outside by the ear if she has to.'

He lets out a short chuckle. 'She certainly would. But this path is not for everyone. It was my own. Allah may have presented it to me, but in the end, it was I who chose to tread it.' He pauses for a moment, as though searching for the right thing to say. 'The common man would be too concerned, as he should, with feeding himself and his family. Leisure time, if any, was far more precious. The fact that thy people indulge in it so is a sign of how modern man rose to kingship.'

'Kingship? We're not kings. Even the Emperor is just a puppet.'

'Thine people live like kings and sultans, my student. Food is in thy bellies thrice a day. A roof is above thy heads at all times, should thou desire it. Pleasures and abundance that would not even exist in a peasant's dreams are at thy fingertips. Children do not grow up walking the thin line between life and death every day. Even these houses, which seem dull to thee, would be considered palaces to anyone of my time.'

…he has a point. From his perspective, all of this was a peas - er, a worker's dream, even beyond that. 'Time marches on, I guess. In the caveman days, a stone hut would be considered a palace. And unless you know otherwise, Villains didn't exist back then.'

'If thou refer to people who desired to do nothing but cause harm, we had far worse. Count thy blessings for having been born in this era. At the very least, here the defenders of the law actually care about their cause beyond the coin and prestige that it brings. Not to mention morality in society is as Allah intended it to be, unbound by the priests and their words.'

'Priests like yourself?'

I clamp my mouth shut the moment the words escape my mental lips. Low blow, Ritsu, low blow. But the stinging pain in my head does not come.

'...I have never said I was innocent of such things. I espoused my view of Allah's teachings, what I believed to be right and those who believed my words followed me. Did I make decisions that I now see could have been solved otherwise? Absolutely. But if it meant protecting my flock, I would repeat those things tenfold.'

…

…

…

'...I'm sorry, Mawla. I should have watched my words.'

A moment of silence ensues before I hear him release a deep sigh. 'Apology accepted, contractor. It seems that we both need to thank Allah for our blessings, for I know not of anyone, not even in the Holy Quran, who could reflect upon a life's mistakes as I have.'

From then the search resumes in comfortable silence. I've explored a good bit of northern Chiyoda by now, and so far, still nothing. I see trees off to the east where the Imperial Gardens lie and patches of green, but the general look of the neighborhood doesn't change.

I make a turn and as I'm about to keep walking, I catch wind of a small convenience store on the corner of the street. Like everything else I've seen so far, there's nothing remarkable about it, and judging by the faint sound of music, there's no one inside but the cashier.

…perfect.

I slip into a nearby alleyway and check to see that no one is peeping out a window. Then in one quick stroke, I take off my shirt.

'Contractor, what art thou…ah, I see.'

'Yeah, I'm using the same method from the Nine Rings bar; asking around. But since this isn't some seedy criminal hidey-hole, I've gotta look like a decent human being. Good thing that I always have a shirt under my outfit.' I take off my mask and wrap my vest around it, but just as I'm about to leave the alley, I realize something:

Where do I put my equipment? A utility belt and knives aren't exactly the most…common of tools for a rando like me to be carrying around. Maybe pretend I'm a Hero student? Tempting, but they might ask for ID. Leave it behind some bin and come back for it later? Yeah, as if. So what to do?

I look at my shirt for a moment when the lightbulb goes off. Moving the shirt around my body, I tie it around my waist so that it covers the belt and most of the knives. As for the mask, I tuck it under my regular shirt and make sure a small part is squirreled below my waistline and under my pants so it doesn't fall. 'Let's go.'

I walk to the store and push the door open. After being greeted by a digital chime and the humming of electrical circuits, I look around. Sure enough, the only person in the store is a cashier, university age, with red hair and a yellow shirt under a uniform, listening to music with earbuds.

I approach the register and he looks up before removing the device. "Hello, do you need any help?"

Bullshitting time, begin. "Yeah, I'm doing a bit of research for my school newspaper, we're focusing on urban legends and rumors. Are there any of those kinds of things here? Or other strange things?"

The cashier scratches his cheek, his red hair moving up and down like antennae. "Newspaper, huh? That takes me back. But urban legends? Nah, this is a quiet neighborhood. Even Villains don't really show up here. The worst that happens is the occasional pickpocketing, there was one just last week. The cops were able to stop him though, no Heroes needed."

Bummer. No help here then? "What about unusual landmarks? Any weird buildings or statues?"

He shook his head. "Not that I've seen. I moved here a couple of months ago, so I don't really know that much about this area. Sorry."

I sigh. Yeah, total bust. "It's fine. Looks like I'll have to face the president's wrath again."

He cracks a smile at me. "A crabby type? Trust me, I know the feeling. Make something up. If you need, I'll back it up."

"Thanks, but I'll keep looking." I glance at a nearby fridge placed behind the counter. "Can I get a bottle of water?"

"Sure thing." He gets up and retrieves a cold bottle. "Cash or card?"

"Cash," I reply. Not that I had a credit card and even if I did, cash was less traceable. Though I should ask Mom if I could get one. I pull out the amount of money and he handed me the bottle.

"Thanks. Sorry I couldn't help. Good luck with that article!"

"No problem, I'll manage!" I wave to him goodbye and step out of the store. I quickly run back to the alley and once I'm certain that no nearby cameras or people can see me, I put back my shirt on, along with the hood and mask.

'An unsuccessful venture then?'

'Yep. It was worth a try though,' I reply as I take a long swig from the bottle. 'At least he didn't ask any questions about my outfit.'

'True to both. There is nothing else to do but keep searching. At which time art thou required to return home?'

After Concealing myself, I pull out my phone and check. 'Well, the school day ends at three so…I should be home by evening. Thankfully, Makoto-sensei's lessons were at the start of the day, otherwise I'd never hear the end of it.'

'While I applaud thy initiative, I will not have thee shirk thy education, contractor. Thou have managed well with afternoons and weekends until now, but I will not tolerate thou using assassination as an excuse to skip days of school.'

'...I'll try to plan shorter routes, but after this mess, okay? You've told me this before, and I know that school's important, but I…'

Unbidden, short hair and dark eyes flash in the forefront of my mind.

"Do you enjoy killing?"

"Contractor?"

I blink for a moment, then shake my head. 'It's nothing. We should continue.' Not waiting to hear any response, I exit the alley.

What kind of question was that? I don't enjoy killing. I know that it's wrong, but I'm doing so no one innocent will have to die at the hands of some lunatic. The Heroes won't do it, so I will.

Am I happy when I stop whatever sick plans my targets have in mind? Yes, I won't deny that.

Am I happy as I see the despair when they realize that their ambitions have been cut short? No better expression for scumbags.

Do I revel as I feel the dagger in my hand, pierced through flesh as the blood seeps through their wound and onto the cold floor?

No…no, I don't…but there is…

I exhale. Not the time, Ritsu. Focus on the mission.

I keep walking around the neighborhood, venturing westward. The streets never seem to change in appearance, despite all the twists and turns I've taken. There are a few old Edo-style buildings tucked in between apartment blocks, but a quick scan with my Quirk reveals simple izakayas and shops. At one point, I even climb onto a rooftop with my grappling hook to observe, but I find nothing.

A few blocks away and I'll be heading towards the edges of Chiyoda. The snarl of frustration that escapes me is louder than I would've liked. If this trip fails, I'll be back to square one. Horrible place, with no cell reception, and is dull as drying paint.

'Thou had no guarantee that this area would house thy target. Not all spots lead to buried treasure.'

'Then where should I go next? Dabi has no clue and from what he says, no one in the criminal underworld has an inkling either,' I reply as I scratch my neck. 'There's gotta be something I'm missing, a clue on those bodies that we haven't -'

I stop.

I look around. I see nothing unusual.

But something's not right.

'What is the matter?'

'...it's quiet. Way too quiet.'

I take another look. Nope, still nothing. That just worries me more.

'I'm not sure I follow thy reasoning, contractor. We had established that this was a quiet neighborhood.'

'Not that!' I shoot back. 'It's just that…I've been using my Quirk the whole time we've been here and I've noticed that wherever we go, there's usually some noise. Air conditioners, lightbulbs, computers, things like that. Most people can't hear it, but I can.'

I'm now staring at yet another apartment building. It's a little taller than its neighbors on the street, with curved white stones making up its walls. I wouldn't have given it any thought if it wasn't for one thing.

It is completely and utterly devoid of sound.

Now, ever since I've had my Quirk, and especially during my time as an Assassin, I've noticed that no matter where you go, especially in a city, there's noise. Even in the darkest of alleys and emptiest of buildings, I always picked up stray sounds.

But from this building? I hear nothing. Not even the wind. That is not natural.

I take a few long strides backward and make out the sound of a TV playing above me. I return and then take a few big steps forward, the faint whirring of a fan soon tickling my ears. But in the area of that spot? Zilch. Yeah, something is very wrong here.

Cautiously, I move toward the building. I push open the door and step into the main hall, where I am once more greeted by total silence. An unmanned reception desk lies in front of a short hallway, with two doors - two regular and one elevator - placed on the sides. At the very end of the corridor, there is another door, with a sign indicating that it leads to a stairwell. The walls are painted in a cream-like color, yet I can make out black lines, akin to marble patterns, tracing the edges.

I move around the desk and look behind it. It is utterly barren; no phone, no papers, not even a coffee mug. Opening its drawers yields the same results. After closing them, I focus on my Quirk again. Other than the sliding of wood I made just now, there's still nothing.

'Something is indeed amiss. Exercise caution.'

'No kidding.' I walk to the stairwell door and open it. The room itself is colored in the style of the lobby, with a metallic spiraling staircase reaching all the way to the top floor.

'Going up then. One floor at a time?'

'It would be the logical suggestion. I would have suggested entry via one of the windows with thy hook, but thou possess too little intelligence about this building to attempt such a move.'

'Then let's go,' I reply. With a deep breath, I place a foot on the stairs and slowly begin to ascend, the metal structure letting out low squeaks with every step. Despite my every instinct telling me to rush like mad up to the next floor, I force myself to maintain an even pace. Thankfully, I soon find myself before the door to the first floor.

'Fool! Thou made enough noise to wake the dead!'

'Hey, I can't help if those stairs creak! If I'd taken the elevator, it'd been far worse!'

'Dost thou not remember this lesson!? When walking upon stairs, stick to the sides!'

I fight the urge to smack my forehead. Shit, that was careless. 'Sorry, thanks for the reminder, Mawla.' I reach for the door as my body coils up. 'Now let's see what's inside here…'

The door opens with nary a creak. The hallway behind it is lined with brownish-red doors, all the way to the end. As I walk towards the nearest one, I notice a small plaque bearing the apartment's number and the resident's surname. In this case, it's "01: Takeuchi." Out of the corner of my eye, I see the neighboring door bearing the name, "Nasu."

'You think that we might find something in one of these apartments?'

'I prefer to assume nothing. For all we know, this building is not even our true target.'

I press an ear to the door and focus my Quirk. Since entering the building or the first time, I hear actual sounds: a whirring fan, the faint humming of electricity, and something scratching. With a flick of my wrist, I pull out a knife, jam it into the lock, and twist. Once again, I lament the fact that I haven't practiced much lockpicking, beyond watching a few online videos. The next time I'll go out for groceries, I'll stop by a hardware store and buy a set. At least I've done this enough times to make sure the knife doesn't get jammed.

The door opens and I step inside the apartment. It's a small thing, with a corridor with a bathroom door and a living room entrance, presumably where the bed is also. Surprisingly, despite my rather loud - sorry Mawla, but one way or another I would've had to open the door - entrance, the scratching hasn't ceased. Venturing further, I see sitting on a chair and behind a desk, a thin man wearing glasses scribbling on paper. I glance to the side and see a table stacked with papers, water bottles and empty ramen cups. Next to the table is a futon with the blanket thrown haphazardly over it, next to a box of - okay, moving on. The man mumbles incoherently, so much so that I don't even think he's actually saying anything. To make matters worse, the air conditioning is on and humming at such a volume that even someone without enhanced hearing could hear it all the way from outside.

Yet no one does.

'What is he writing?' I peer over the man's shoulder and glance at his drawing paper. There's something written in shorthand so messy I can't figure it out, and in the center of the paper, there's a symbol: an octagon encapsulating a yin-yang circle. On a closer glance, I observe that the same symbol appears on other papers strewn around the apartment.

'Bagua…the Eight Trigrams. I've seen that symbol a few times. What the hell is this guy doing drawing it all over the place?' I take a step back and freeze as a crunch rings from under my feet, thanks to a loose sheet of paper. But the man doesn't stop, if anything, his mumblings seem to increase. Feeling more than a little creeped out, I slowly withdraw from the crazed writer and back to the hallway.

'I concur with thy previous thoughts. There is something greatly amiss in this building.'

Oh yeah, no kidding. Without replying, I pull out a knife and open the neighboring door. A similar apartment with a similar sight greets me - a half-shaven older man, wearing an apron, watching a vacation show on an old television set. Cups, bottles and papers were also scattered around him, and the same trigram symbol appeared on each of them.

I check the next several apartments, and although the residents and minutiae are different, one clear pattern is present: the resident is in a mindless trance, the air-con is cranked to the highest level, and the trigram symbol is present somewhere in many quantities. What does it mean? Fuck me if I know.

'This is something out of a cheap horror movie. I'm half expecting to find a magic mirror or something just as weird. Heh, or maybe Sadako-chan decided to move in and make this her new home!' I exclaim sarcastically.

'This is no time for jests, contractor,' Mawla rebukes. 'These people…they've been trapped like this for some time. The stench of death is strong here, and it has engulfed everyone we have seen yet.'

'I smell nothing though.'

'Thy mask filters stench and poison, if thou recall. But I am not referring to a mere physical emanation. These people, this whole building, they are dead to the world, both inside and out.'

The worst about all of this is that I have no idea what the implications are. Some freak disease that the residents quarantined by themselves? A psycho's twisted experiment? Subliminal messages sent by government agents!? Get a hold of yourself, Ritsu, no time to be making up crazy theories.

'If that's true, and this place is some kind of death trap, then after this last room we're leaving. I'll use my work phone to call the cops and bring them here. I'd like to stop whatever this is myself, but -'

'We lack too much information. I agree that it is distasteful, but there is more at stake here than pride. I approve.'

Allowing myself to feel that momentary surge of contentment at Mawla's praise, I advance to the last door on the floor. The plaque was empty, however, and as I focus my Quirk, I'm greeted by the same silence I encountered when I first observed the building. I slowly raise the dagger to jam into the lock, but my gut tightens something fierce.

'Come on Ritsu, just one last door. It's probably gonna be even more fucked up than the last ones, but you've seen some pretty shit things.' The dagger twists and the door creaks open, allowing me to push through. 'Whatever's in there, you can -'

I freeze. The room is dark, lit only by the static screen of another television set, casting the walls in a ghostly glow. I make out the silhouettes of a low table and more empty noodle cups.

The mutilated corpse, however, forces bile to rise in my throat.

Taking deep breaths, I force myself to keep looking. The glow from the monitor reflects off the gigantic splatter of blood, spread across the wall and upon the surrounding rug. The stomach and chest are cut open, exposing the ribcage and the heart - along with two bloody arm sockets - to the stale air. As if to further raise the growing calamity of emotions swirling in my head, the rest of the inner organs are absent from the man's bowels. The victim's face is a palette of twisted terror and pure dread, painted upon a canvas of flesh as if to act as the cherry-on-top for this macabre masterpiece.

The fingers of my free hand twitch like mad, while the ones around the dagger tighten their grip to the point where they might draw blood from under the glove. A low hiss escapes my throat as I reconcile with the fate of this poor soul while itching to find the bastard who did this and give him the same treatment.

'Contractor, calm thyself. This is no time to give in to emotions -'

"What a pity."

My trance is broken and my head shoots up. There, from the upper corner of the room, emerges a tall man, melting through the ceiling as though it was water, garbed in the robes of a priest. His dark hair covers his chiseled forehead and his stony countenance seems to be permanently etched in a visage of solemnity. Upon staring at the bloody corpse, he ruefully shakes his head.

"He gave out not long ago. I had little expectations of him, but even a slight glimpse would have provided me with further insight. A wasteful death, yet also a wasteful life."

His voice…for a moment it seems akin to Mawla's, deep, ancient and reverberating. Yet while my teacher's voice possesses traces of fondness and support, the priest's - if he is one - is devoid of all but cold analysis.

He descends to the floor and touches down silently. He shifts his gaze between the corpse and the open door, right behind me. This lasts for a few seconds before his head tilts to the side.

"I suppose, considering your reputation, such a sight would not easily faze you, as it would the Heroes. Yet, you caused such a commotion in the rest of the rooms. How interesting." He raises an arm and presses it against the wall, where it sinks inside just as his body did in reverse. "Perhaps this will provide the reaction I seek."

He pulls his hand out from the wall, and in its grasp is a bloody, severed arm. Carved upon its bicep, lit by the dead TV monitor, are the same words that have taunted me these past days.

私は死に挑む。

神の領域を突破しました。

I defy death.

I have breached god's domain.

…

…

…this fucker…no, no, calm down Ritsu, do not act rush like a bull again…but if he has that arm, and the organs are gone then that means that this entire building is - a farm. A corpse farm.

Yeah, this fucker dies now.

Without thinking further, I take the knife and throw it right at his forehead. At this range and my speed, there's no way he'll be able to dodge -

"Shuku."

A flash of gold, and then a shockwave ripples through the room, sending everything, including the dagger, flying. I squint at the sudden burst of wind but then blink as I process what just happened.

What the fuck!?

He narrows his shadowed eyes in my direction, his posture unchanging. "Hmm…yes, very interesting. I know that you are in this room, yet I cannot sense your exact position. Truly a frightening Quirk, your invisibility."

He drops the severed limb and raises his arm. I tense, ready to spring out and stab him right between the eyes. But before I do so, he forms a fist and squeezes. "Shuku."

I nearly fall to my knees as an enormous pressure manifests on me and pushes me down. I grit my teeth as I force myself to look upwards and ignore the sound of wood getting crushed. If this keeps up, I'll be squished into paste!

Taking a quick yet deep inhale, I launch myself at him with all the force I can muster in my legs. Just as I reach him, he opens his fist and another shockwave erupts from his body, this time sending me flying right out of the apartment, crashing into the wall behind me.

To my credit, I ignore the searing pain running through my back and get back quickly. Quickly drawing a dagger and mentally thanking my armor's strength, I stare at the man as he walks towards my position with a calm stride, as though taking a stroll. Was that some kind of gravity Quirk? But how did he phase through the walls? And what did he mean by sensing me?

He raises his arm again and I lash out once more, this time dashing under him and aiming for the lower chest. His head snaps in my direction and he brings his arm down, intercepting the knife. I expect it to pierce his flesh, but a sharp sound rings my sensitive ears and I see that the blade doesn't even scratch him. Ignoring my shock, I grab his arm and try to push him down, only for him to swing his arm and send me flying again down the hall. I reach down to the ground and try to grip it, my boots and gloves scraping loudly against the floor. A hardening Quirk too? What the hell is this guy!? Since when does someone have that many Quirks!?

"An aggressive one. Yet you are far from a mere brute. No doubt you are attempting to formulate a counterattack after experiencing my techniques." The priest slowly turns to me and despite his hair obscuring his face, something tells me that he's amused. "Yet I can assure you, whatever you are planning, it will take far more than that."

With those words, he sinks like a stone into the floor and vanishes from sight. I look around and make sure my Quirk is fully active. First things first, the good news: he can't see me or detect my exact position, otherwise he would have gone for a killing blow right away. The bad news is: He can somehow sense my general location, and that shockwave prevents me from getting close. And even if I manage to do that, that iron skin will just deflect my knives. Aaand one of them is still in the room. Great.

To top it off, I'm in his domain. Meaning I can't let my guard down for even a second otherwise he'll -

Rumble

I throw myself backwards just as the ground below and around me erupts in a shower of splinters and stone. My left heel touches something solid, and a quick glance behind me means it's gotta be the stairwell door. I twist myself around and push open the door, intending to jump right down the stairs. But I barely jump two sets when the stair treads suddenly twist and turn on their axes like something out of a platformer. I nearly slip up and fall, but I manage to place my foot right on the small edge and hop down until I'm in front of the lower door, which I push open again.

And there he is, standing with his arms crossword behind his back, with the same stony expression.

"Judging that by that door, you are right where I am staring. Good, at least I will not say I am not a proper host by offering no introductions." He gives me a short bow, though I can't tell how much sarcasm is in it. "I am Souren Araya, a researcher into the true nature of life. And you are Shinigami, the harbinger of death who has decided to descend upon this world."

A smile twists the corner of his lips, and I can't help but shiver; if there are people which are not meant to show any positive emotion, this guy would be their leader. "It is my hope you will help me find my insight. Especially after the effort I took to summon your attention."

He raises one arm in a 'come hither' gesture. "Don't disappoint me."

This time, I throw two knives. He sends out that shockwave again and just as it dies out, I leap towards him and summon back the knives, letting them fly into my hands as I aim for his right side and his left shoulder. He tensed up and the knife bounces off his shoulder blade, but the one aimed for his side meets flesh. I can't help the satisfied grin that's growing on my face; the hardening isn't full body, or he needs time to make it so.

Before I can attack further, he raises a foot and stomps on the ground hard. The shockwave sends more stone flying and disorients me before he cocks back a fist and -

FUCK!

…sends it flying right into my chest.

I come to in a few seconds, my mind having gone blink as I let out a groan. It feels like a goddamn freight train crashed into me point-blank. I once more force myself up, this time desperately trying to ignore the agony running up and down my front and back.

As I shake my head to clear my blurry vision, the man - Araya - resumes talking.

"Hmm…nimble. I suppose you are feeling rather proud of yourself, for giving me this flesh wound." He sighs ruefully, an act that I now see. "A shame. Pain is a necessity, but to derive such joy from so small a scratch -"

No monologuing for you, asshole!

I draw in a sharp breath and dash toward him. He barely manages to open his lips as I pull him down with my felt hand and grab his head in my other. I have him now!

"Don't get cocky, scum. Now carve this into thy -"

"SHUKU!"

Before I go airborne, I feel myself turn. Then the sound of glass shattering, crackling asphalt and - fuck, my ribs!

Wait, asphalt?

With ragged breaths, I force myself to look upwards. I'm back outside, in front of the building's lobby windows, now shattered to pieces. Araya walks forward and stops just in front of the front door, gently rubbing his head - or forehead, my sight's too blurry. Not to mention my ears are playing an orchestra piece, the full brass, percussion, and woodwinds.

"...what were you about to do?"

He idly looks from side to side. Great, that means the Concealment didn't drop. I'd never hear the end of it from Mawla if it did. I feel the cracked street road beneath my gloved palms. If I can drag him out here, I'll have a lot more legroom to work with. But how to do that, with that Quirk of his protecting him?

A low chuckle snaps me out of my planning, and I see him holding a palm to his forehead.

"Yes…yes…is it that? The reason why those bodies were scorched to a cinder?" He looks up at the sky, as though in a trance. "I have seen the footage, but there is far more to it…you are not one of his failed creations, that I am sure of." He lowers his head again, this staring right at me - or the man-sized pothole in the street, most likely.

"It may be…that the answer I seek is within you." To my surprise, he dips into another short bow, albeit deeper. "As gratitude for this sample and in anticipation for what's to come, I shall inform you that I will remain here until you return once more. That of course will change if any law enforcement or Hero decides to drop by, so seek help at your own discretion. I deduce, based on your pattern of entry, that you noticed but barring the total destruction of my workshop and the test subjects who dwell therein, no one will find anything extraordinary about this building, so I advise you to shelve any ideas about anonymous tips or the like."

I grit my teeth at the gall this…utter psycho has, but even more so at the fact that he saw through my early plan without even seeing me.

He turns around and retreats into the shop, his robe billowing behind him. "I bid you farewell, Shinigami. May your struggles help me further up the path to absoluteness." He vanishes into the shadows, with nary another word.

…

…

…

I want to kill him. I want nothing more than to go back inside there and drag him from whatever rathole he's hiding in and burn his soul to ashes.

But I can't. As I am now, I'll just end up like the mangled man in that apartment. He still has the home advantage, and I haven't properly analyzed what he can and can't do.

So with a thousand curses at Souren Araya and my wounds, I pick myself up and begin to waddle in the direction of the train station. I need that medicinal cream, maybe even a bandage roll. Then get home, hug Mom, and plan whatever I need to to put this son of a whore in the ground. And a new knife.

But as I walk under the twilight sky, I notice that Mawla has made no comment. I try and reach out to him, even entering the Valley, but instead am rebuffed by a wall of fog, and I swear I make out the distant howling of winds and sand brushing my cheeks.

And in comparison to the utter humiliation I endured just now, I'm not sure which is worse.

Ritsu Ogawa (Assassin - Hassan-i Sabbah)

Stats:

Strength: D++

Agility: C

Endurance: C-

Mana: C++ (Only when using Power of the Valley. Otherwise, nonexistent.)

Luck: C+

Skills:

Presence Concealment C-: The ability to hide from others. A semi-decent level for any Assassin. Against ordinary criminals and some intelligent ones it works well.

Throwing (Dagger) B and Throwing (Retrieval) B: The expertise for throwing projectile weapons; in this case, daggers. His daggers have the same destructive power as firearms when thrown, typically spelling certain death for human targets. He can retrieve them to his hand with but a mere gesture

Information Erasure C++: Erases all traces of the user's identity, physical or digital, after leaving a scene of assassination. It does not hide the user's identity in any other situation, and clues can be pieced together to deduce identity. If the user's identity is discovered, then the effects of the skill weaken. Rank increased thanks to multiple exposures outside of Presence Concealment.

Power of the Valley of Death C++: A unique connection forged as a result of finding a relic of Alamut. Assassin can draw power from the Valley to perform certain skills he would otherwise be incapable of doing.

Quirk - Super-Hearing C+-B: UPGRADED! A power gained as a result of evolution. Allows the user to hear precise details within a certain range, up to an including electrical movements and shifting of earth. Can extend the range in exchange for loss of detail. Also alerts the user of incoming danger provided they can react to it.

Muraqubah D+: A meditative state that enhances Ritsu's connection to the Valley. If used enough times/for long enough, combat specs have a chance of increasing. In addition, it also enables ?

Noble Phantasm:

Zabaniya - Delusional Judgment Rank C+

An 'ultimate assassination technique' bearing the same name as the angels of hell, a title which all previous 'Old Men of the Mountain' used for their own techniques. Unlike them however, who were forged by extensive modification of the Hassans' bodies, this technique is a reflection of the Assassin's desire to inflict what he deems true judgment. Calling upon his unique connection to the Valley in the Shadow of Death, Assassin drags his target's soul to the Valley, where the First Hassan awaits them. Their soul is laid bare before the Great Founder and should they be found guilty of whatever sin Assassin finds them to have committed, the flames of Gehenna will burn away their soul and body until naught but ash remains.

Hi guys! It's been a while hasn't it? Exams, motivation issues and life has been down, but I'm not letting that stop me! Ritsu's been dealt one nasty defeat, let's hope that he can recover!

On more sad news, due to IRL issues, Santo has elected to leave as beta, meaning I'm searching for a new one. Less focus on grammar and more on ideas and story flow is appreciated.

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