YES IT IS I! I'm on a roll! Praise the Elder Gods! You know how it goes, read, review, moo, copyright, yodelayheehoo
Special thanks to Old Man of the Mountain and my new beta MentalForge!
Let's go!
Drip. Drip. Drip. Skritch. Skritch. Skritch.
In the darkness, illuminated by a solitary candle, he ponders. Isolated from warmth and light, the man garbed in the robe of a priest has his eyes closed and head bent; every part of his posture shows he is in deep contemplation…or communion with matters unknown. The silence envelops him as the shroud of darkness does, with only the dripping of liquids and a steady, rhythmic rattling acting as zephyrs to disturb the unearthly stillness.
The stench, emanating from corners filthy and macabre, does not even make him twitch. For it is naught but a reminder of fragile mortality, irrelevant and fleeting before the answers he seeks, before the truth that he had been so desperately seeking. Always elusive, always mysterious, a fleeing wisp in the corner of his eye.
…
…
…
…at least, until recently.
A gust of wind blows throughout the room. The flame atop the candle, once burning in solitude, was now extinguished with a whisper. A faint shuffling reaches his ears, yet he does not move to greet it.
"My master wishes to inform you that a new package is ready for delivery."
"...leave it in the usual room. You know where."
The glowing yellow eyes do not move. Only the slight change of flickers on the guest's form indicates that something other than an acknowledgment has occurred.
"And…he wishes to speak to you. If you are not too busy."
The stone-faced man let out a short hum. He knew what this was about - why bother denying it? Mayhap a conversation with a friend would help him in his ruminations. He twitches a finger, pointing to the short table next to him. In a swirl of fog, a phone appears, the caller ID unknown and the speaker active.
"I will leave you two alone." With those words, the guest vanishes.
…
"Quite a commotion you had yesterday, old friend."
"...the walls have eyes and ears, have they?"
The caller chuckled. "Only the latter; the eyes seem to behave strangely when under your influence, so implanting them is a waste. Your new domicile is technically my property. Be at ease; only what I deem relevant I dissect. The events I speak of most certainly qualify."
"I have no complaints. I conduct my search within these walls comfortably. It was foolish of me to think this gift came with naught but pretty ribbons. As you say, the building is under your ownership."
"I do not mean to offend. But I am rather curious, and can you blame me?"
He shifted on his throne, an old wooden chair, adorned with patterns from a bygone age.
"...he is no foolish idealist, nor some urchin who decided to one day take up a mask. His technique, his speed…they were as a knife sharpened on a well-oiled whetstone."
"Oh? Did you see past his ability?"
Souren Araya shook his head. "No, not even my…talents…could properly track him. But I did hear his voice, distorted as it was."
"That is fascinating. The combination I gave you was quite potent. For invisibility to reach such a level…and you are sure he was not within my unknowing grasp once?"
"No, that much I am sure of: he is not one of yours."
The caller sighed. "I see. I did not expect it to be so, but I had to make sure that such a Quirk did not escape my observation while under my control. At least now I can be sure of the Doctor's conscientiousness, and by extension, my own. Now, what is it about our newest mystery that has you so ponderous?"
The beads in his hands, held together by a thin and worn-out string, clacked once more.
"...I have searched for meaning in this eternal cycle. Life, death, beginning, end, order, chaos - the path to one must always end in the other, but can that path change? May this pendulum of samsara be breached? Your gifts to me… have eased my quest, yet in truth, I was met with more disappointment."
Araya looked up at the ceiling, his grip on the beads tightening. "But in one moment, as we fought, I felt something running through my very essence, a guillotine about to sever my soul into pieces." He let out a deep sigh, one full of twisted anticipation and joy. "He may hold the key to all my answers. The next time we clash, I will know for sure."
His friend chuckled again. "Such faith in your tone…it leaves my own followers much to be desired. Yet, if you are so certain regarding the key to your progress…why set him free?"
For a moment, there was silence. The man's arm slowly fell down to his sides, his rock-like features never changing.
"...he will return."
"Oh, I do not doubt that. For all his unorthodox brutality, our little troublemaker is more a hero than even he, I believe, might care to admit. But if he does hold the key to your truth, why did you not take advantage of his weakness, when he was in your power, and seize him?"
The corners of Araya's lips twitched briefly. He too had contemplated that quandary when he retreated back into the house. It would have been difficult to be sure, but he was confident he could ensnare Shinigami. Several excuses came to mind, many of them practical. The one he gave was not.
"...there is a French expression I have heard once in a restaurant. I was missing key ingredients, and so was our new friend. The mise en place, all the ingredients for the dish, must be ready before the course can be prepared. I dare say only one reminder will have to be sent, or none at all. He will stew in his failure, he will prepare, ripen, then come at me with all his strength, and when he does…"
The exhale that followed should never have escaped a human's lips. "It will be a dish for the ages."
A few seconds later, the monstrous grin faded away. "So put your mind at ease, old friend. Your time and resources shall not go to waste."
"...heh heh heh HAHAHA! Such enthusiasm! Such confidence! Very well, Araya. If you truly believe that this ripened fruit will be the Apple of Eden you so desperately sought, then by all means, have at it! Nirvana or oblivion, everlasting erudition or eternal ignorance, I shall observe this spectacle eagerly!"
Araya lifted the prayer beads and brought them to his forehead, his eyes closing in resolve and anticipation for what was to come.
"Namu Amida Butsu."
Whatever the outcome, he would tread the path.
"Ritsu, dinner's ready!"
No answer. Odd.
"Ritsu come on, you don't want the food to get cold!"
A slight shuffle reached her ears and…was that grumbling? Was her son, her own flesh and blood, refusing to come to eat dinner!?
"Brat, if you don't show yourself in five seconds, I will spike your cup with coffee!"
There was a creaking sound, and soon enough, her son came shuffling through the door, his cerulean eyes shooting her a look that could pierce steel. Asuka smirked in triumph for a moment, but then she felt it morph into a frown.
His expression was stormy and his back was slightly hunched over. When he sat down and began to eat, he ate it with a certain ferocity that usually wasn't present. And when only a few pieces of meat were left on his plate, his slouch deepened and he began to nibble on the remaining morsels. Something was seriously bothering Ritsu. Not just homework, his social life (or lack thereof), or his blessedly concerned teacher, Makoto.
Asuka put down her chopsticks and reached across the table to touch his hand. "Ritsu, what's wrong?"
He looked up at her, startled. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. He silently stammered for a bit, before finally sighing. "It's…hard to say, Mom."
"What do you mean?"
He scratched the table as a frown briefly graced his pale face. "I'm not sure how to explain it. It's…bad. Really bad."
The dark-haired mother felt her concern swell as she heard the barest hint of his voice crack. She quickly got up and cleared her plate, then moved to the couch, gesturing for her son to follow her as she moved past him. A second after she sat herself down, he came and was about to sit next to her when she patted her thighs. Ritsu blinked in surprise for a moment, then he lay down on the sofa and placed his head in her lap. She saw his fingers twitching as he tried to get comfortable, so she laid a hand on his scalp and began running her fingers through his hair. It took a few more seconds, but she eventually felt him slacken against her, his even breath whispering in her sensitive ears.
"Ritsu…you know you can tell me anything, right?"
Asuka Ogawa knew that she wasn't the best example of what a mother should be. Ever since Ritsu's father died in that accident, she knew she had to find consistent means of supporting her son and herself. Fortunately, she was a junior at her law firm at the time, and when she unveiled the full capability of her Quirk - thanks to long hours of practice on campus and attending open court - she had become an invaluable asset to her firm, and her bosses were quick to capitalize on that. She was sent on important cases early on as an assistant lawyer, eventually being promoted to a full-on legal representative in record time. With her rise came higher pay, but also more time away from home and thus, more time away from Ritsu.
He sighed and pressed the back of his head onto her stomach. "I know."
Her bosses were understanding at first, allowing her to be absent from meetings and giving her a great deal of freedom outside the courthouses in order to raise her son. She didn't waste any of that goodwill, taking him to school, helping him with homework, going to the playground…and holding him tight every time he asked for a hug. But as time passed, more responsibilities and cases were placed on her desk, limiting their time together. As such, she had to teach Ritsu how to be somewhat independent inside and outside the house.
"I…I was walking from school and decided to take a little walk. I passed by this building when I heard something weird."
Ritsu was a quick study, learning to make his own basic meals and do his own laundry with ease. She still endeavored to come home for dinner every night, but there were times when the workload was too big, and by the time she left for home, the clock was in the twenties.
"I looked inside and I saw…" he swallowed. "There was a man, and he was standing over someone. I didn't get a good look at his face, but he was curled up on the floor and…I heard him."
As the years went by though, she noticed that Ritsu had become more distant whenever he talked about school. It took some prodding, but she managed to learn about the issues that plagued him. No bullying, thankfully - she would sue the pants off any parent whose kid would so much as try and harm a hair on her precious boy's head. But he had trouble making friends, thanks to a number of factors: his passive/non-flashy Quirk, his silent demeanor, and his relative bookishness, not to mention his occasional thoughts on Heroism, but that issue came later.
"He was hurt, Mom. Really hurt. That son of a bitch standing over him was the one who did that. And what did I do? I ran. I didn't even call the police." His hand, which was on her knee, started to squeeze. "I fucking ran."
He tried to assure her that it was fine, that he didn't need the attention of idiots and sheep - more words from all those history books he likes to read. But she didn't need her Quirk to know that it was upsetting him. She tried to be there as much as she could, but her work clashed too much with her home/free time. The absences grew longer and the work got bigger, and deep down in her heart she knew that all of it was chipping away at him bit by bit. It all came to a head one day, sometime toward the end of his first year of junior high. It was after dinner, much like the one they had moments ago, when she asked him how his school day was. He said it was fine, math was hard, history was cool, the usual things. Then he mentioned a group assignment in literature…where he didn't have any partners. He must've seen her expression because he said that the teacher gave him an easier task instead.
In retrospect, she should've seen it coming. A slouching on the shoulders, a biting of the lip, a slight trembling. She'd seen it in some nervous clients before, but never in her own son. Then the tears began to flow.
"I know I could've done something. But I froze up. I just ran away, leaving that guy to suffer god-knows-what."
She had immediately gotten up and grabbed him in a tight hug, whereupon he began sobbing. He babbled incoherently and cried as her shirt got soaked, all the while she held him tightly and whispered in his ear. He cried himself to sleep soon enough, but Asuka knew the reason for her son's tears: at his core, he was a very lonely child. Books and games were no substitute for real friends. All of his ideas, the histories and tales that he learned, he had no one but her to share them with.
"I'm fucking pathetic."
All she could bring herself to do at the time was hold him tightly and give him all the warmth she had, and when he woke up, tell him that it won't matter because sooner or later, people will see him for the kind and intelligent young man that he was. And if anyone thought otherwise, to hell with them; why did their opinion matter?
He hugged her again…then asked which movie she picked that up from. Cheeky as always.
She cradled his head with her other hand. "Ritsu…don't blame yourself for something like this. I've heard people say similar things in my job, what they could've done, should've done, it doesn't matter. What's important is that you came out safe from that business. Where did this even happen?"
"...I was out for a walk. I don't exactly remember."
She chuckled and lightly bopped him on the head. "Only you would go for a stroll and run into something like this. But are you sure? Do you want me to call the police?"
He shook his head. "No, the body's probably gone by now and…I'm scared."
Her grip on his head tightened for a second. 'Scared' wasn't a word easily ascribed to him. If what he saw shook him that bad…but sadly, it wasn't unwarranted. How many witnesses were afraid to testify in a criminal case, or even provide information to the police? "Did he see you?"
"No, I'm sure of that."
She took a deep breath. "Alright then. Just…relax for now. I'll do the dishes later."
He hummed in response and she noticed that he was still frowning. Yeah, her son wasn't the type to just let such a matter drop, not without some closure. What he saw was done and gone, but maybe…
"If ever see something like that again, move at least a block away and call for help. Police, Heroes, anybody."
"Call for help…" he muttered. Then, he slowly nodded. "Yeah…yeah…I'll try and do that."
"That's all I ask. But don't go tracking random criminals because of this, you hear?" She said. "Eh, what am I saying? You'd probably take one look at the door and crawl back to bed."
He turned his head and shot her a glare. "Your faith in my laziness is utterly encouraging," he replied with a deadpan. She just laughed and twisted his little patch of white hair.
"The evidence suggests nothing else." She then bent down and pecked his forehead. "You've got a life ahead of you, kiddo. Don't go wasting it on a sudden urge to beat someone up."
He blinked at her, then gave a slow nod before snuggling into her stomach. She smiled and shook her head. What a weird boy he was. One moment serious as an adult, the other he was a total child. But he wouldn't be her son otherwise.
And she knew that, despite her faults, he would never want her otherwise as a mother.
Jirou groaned into the mattress, the stink of her sweat slowly drifting into her nostrils. She scrunched up her nose in disgust; she needed a serious shower. A nice, long shower…if only she had the willpower to even get up.
She felt her legs tingle as she shifted herself on the bed. She wasn't exactly sure what to expect from an Internship, but looking at it now, it was stupid to assume anything relaxing or peaceful, especially with the choice she made. Death Arms was a rising star and had been one of her top picks…not that there were many offers. Losing so early in the Sports Festival sucked ass.
"Ugh…this is so gonna hurt more in the morning."
A harsh taskmaster her new mentor was, but he definitely knew his way around a crime scene or Villain attack. Not only that, but he gave her tips on how to focus her Quirk, despite his own being completely different. She had a feeling that at the end of the week, she would look back at this and laugh. Hopefully.
The purple-haired girl pulled out her phone and began scrolling through messages, plugging an earlobe into the jack. "Wonder what Momo is up to…hope she didn't take that beauty queen."
A new message popped up, and she paused upon seeing the sender.
It was Ritsu. Can we talk?
Huh.
That was surprising. She hadn't heard from him since after the Festival which was…not that long ago, actually. What could he want?
She quickly typed in a reply. Sure.
Five seconds later, her phone rang. "Hello?"
"Hi, what's up?"
"Fine. Long day and my legs are killing me."
"The usual hero stuff then?"
"Yeah, but not in UA. I'm doing an internship and my new mentor's a slave driver."
"Internship?"
"Oh right, you don't know. Basically each of us mentors under a Pro for a week and learns from them."
"Sounds neat. Who's the Hero?"
"Death Arms. Really cool dude."
"Never heard of him."
"Really? Tall and buff, with blue hair, a big chest, and huge cuffs on his wrists? Rising star? Not ringing a bell?"
"It sounded generic as hell. Do you know how many tall and buff Heroes are out there?"
"What about the blue hair and cuffs?"
"Still basic. Sounds like something out of a character creator on the internet."
She snorted. "Wow, look at you. Did they change the medicine at the old folks' home?"
"Nah, they just changed the channel to romantic dramas instead of the usual Heroman-saves-kitten evening edition. Wonderfully distracting."
A giggle escaped her. Wow, she needed that. "What's up with you then? How's life at normie high school?"
"That's actually why I called. We're doing an assignment in… social studies, I think. One of the questions is how would a Hero go about a hostage situation. Thought I might ask straight from the source."
A school assignment? On one hand, she was tired, and mouthing off about homework didn't sound like a relaxing evening. But…Death Arms liked to quiz her. With sudden death exercises if she answered wrong. A review might be good. And didn't she just help bust a hostage-taking today at a bank?
She sighed and sat up on the bed. "Well, good thing I busted one up today. You writing this down?"
"Yeah. I'm ready."
"Okay, the first step is to make sure that no one else can enter the crime scene. You don't want anyone else interfering. Next thing, you make sure that the hostage takers don't try anything stupid. Hide, ask to negotiate, but try and calm things down. If you can, move straight to the hostages and subdue the criminals quickly. If not, try and stall them while another Hero or officer tries to help the hostages without anyone knowing."
"Uh-huh. And all of this is assuming that you have backup?"
Jirou nodded. "Yep. Death Arms said to never try and deal with a hostage situation solo, that's just asking for a civilian to get hurt. Always have some form of backup nearby, or try and stall until help arrives, even if it's just the one."
"At least two huh? Right then. Let me just write that down…" she heard faint tapping. "I'm guessing that smoking the criminals out is a bad idea?"
"Hell yeah!" She scoffed. "Where did you get that idea?"
"Movies, the internet. Never thought it was realistic though."
"I know how that feels; the training montages don't show how painful this all is." She glanced at the time. Shit, she should go to bed. For all she knew, Death Arms would wake her up like one of those movie drill sergeants. It hasn't happened yet but who knew? "Anything else?"
"Hmm…nope, not at the moment. I'll text you if I've missed anything. Good luck with your internship, you'll knock 'em down. Oh wait, you did."
"Heh, thanks. And good luck with your assignment!" With those words, they hung up. The rocker girl smiled at the phone. It was unexpected but nice of him to call. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at the spare clothes in her suitcase.
"Guess I'd better shower if I'm already up. You can do it Jirou, show him what Earphone Jack can do!"
I have a plan!
Sort of…just the basics…okay, just the beginnings of a plan. But still, better than nothing, right?
I swear I hear crickets.
I slump in my chair and stare at my blank computer screen. I'm tempted to boot it up and start playing some mindless hack-n'-slash, but I can't afford to get distracted. I need something more than a skeleton.
'This is gonna be way trickier than I thought, right?'
No answer.
I feel a surge of…I'm not sure, maybe anger, depression, or a mix of those, then push it down. It's been like that since the fight with Araya.
Mawla's gone silent. Every time I try contacting him, I'm either ignored or pushed out. I've managed to use Muraqabah to enter the Valley of Death again, but it's utterly barren. Not a hint of my teacher's intimidating visage, or his deep breaths. Just me, the grey sands, and the whispering of souls.
I think I know why he's gone dark. Yeah, I acted pretty fucking reckless, despite swearing to him otherwise. But it can't be just that, right? What else could I have done, leave the moment that priest-garbed scumbag showed me that severed limb? Well, yeah, but then I wouldn't have learned about his powers!
I sigh and bite my lip. It looks like for now, I'm on my own. Which is kind of the worst thing I can be in a situation like this.
It's Friday now. A few days have passed since the clusterfuck, and I've been trying to think up a strategy to kill Araya and shut down his organ farm. But I've run into two major setbacks.
First, I can't rely on the Heroes or cops. Not only did Araya threaten to move his operation if I blabbed, but I also had a very strong feeling that they wouldn't even notice anything was amiss. That quiet area around the apartment building…I think it blocks more than just sound. Also, leaving an anonymous tip has its own issues, those being the police tracing the call (I know my work phone is untraceable, but I'm paranoid right now) or tracking my voice, and a lack of shock and awe. I've texted Jirou about it, and unless there's an immediate risk to life or property, Heroes can't just barge into a building and start wrecking shit up. Tips need proper investigation, and by the time anyone might find anything odd, Araya would move and I'd have to track him all over again.
Surprisingly, he did keep his word regarding staying put. I took a quick detour the other day after school, and the 'dead zone' was still there. And there haven't been any new regarding more severed limbs. Huh.
Second, and the most stressing of the two, I needed help. I've done some more research and what Jirou said was pretty much spot on: a hostage situation can't be solved solo. There were a couple of instances, but they had a lot more elbow room to move around in. So if I'm gonna do this, I'll need a partner and…my options are severely limited, and that's an understatement.
The only two people I know who could actually help me in this situation are Jirou and Dabi. Jirou is a flat-out no because of setback number one, her ignorance of my 'other side' and the fact that she and her mentor Death Arms are based in Mustafu, which is too far away. And Dabi?
I seriously considered him, but his cons outweigh his pros in this scenario. His flames are too powerful. One wrong move, especially in such a confined space and he could bring the entire building down on me, along with the hostages and the rest of the neighborhood. Those buildings are packed together tightly, and the risk of a flash fire is too great. I could ask him to tone it down but...he doesn't seem like the kind of type to know much restraint. The charred remains of the trash talk show host and his prison were proof enough.
I sigh and rub my forehead. 'I have no other options. It's not like anyone in the underworld would be willing to listen to me, considering to them I'm enemy number one.'
'Maybe have Dabi scout someone suitable and offer payment?' I shake my head in the negative. Too many unknowns.
I thump the table and silently curse. What to do, what to do? Dabi is slowly becoming more and more of an option. But what about the dead zone? Will he be able to even cross it?
I feel my fingers grasping air and my muscles tighten. I gotta let off some steam. Mawla's still silent, so I can't do -
Wait.
I pull out my work phone and open the contacts. There, right under Dabi, was a name that, to my embarrassment, I nearly forgot.
Shiki.
…this would do. I send her a simple message. It's me, the friend from the garden. Do you have time this evening for a round?
I put the phone down and sigh again. I need a drink and a snack. I go to the kitchen and serve myself a glass of water and some fruit with cookies. Mom got them yesterday as a surprise. So delicious~
Just as I chew the last bite, I hear a ding. Swallowing the water, I run back to my room and see that she replied.
Sure. 19:00, the dojo.
I glance at the time. 17:00. Plenty of time. I hope a quick spar will get my brain back into gear.
I'll give Dabi a heads-up about Araya though. No need for him to keep looking.
An hour and a half, one suit-up and train ride later and I find myself standing in front of the wall that surrounds Shiki's…house. I know it's a mansion, but it hurts me to say it. Though I wonder if I can do a drug bust big enough to land me ample cash to - not now Ritsu!
I enter through the hole in the wall and walk to the dojo, where I find Shiki waiting for me, wearing a yellow kimono. I deactivate my Concealment and head inside, my footsteps lightly echoing through the hall.
"Good evening."
She turns to me and nods. "Good evening to you." She raises her rubber knife. "The same as before?"
"Three hits," I agree. Drawing the rubber knife she gave me, I settle into my stance. "Whenever you are ready."
At a silent cue, we move. She jabs forward, I move back. I sweep under her, she jumps. The tapping of the rubber blades and the movements of our feet against the wood are the only sounds that fill the dojo. There's something…freeing about it. I can think of nothing else. There's no turn-pass-turn like last time. I score a hit on her shoulder and when I try to press my advance, she moves under me and slashes my waist. She dives at my leg but I manage to jump. I swing downwards and she intercepts me.
Where was this calm when I was fighting Araya? What was it that had caused me to lose control of myself so easily? The more I think about it, the more infuriating it becomes. Shiki slashes upwards, and this time I only barely dodge in time. Her eyes narrow, and I'm able to bring my own knife up to deflect her obvious… attack? Did it hit me? I was willing to swear I'd caught that, yet she'd hit me anyways. I hear something hit the ground and look to see half of the rubber blade laying there, seemingly cut clean through by Shiki's own. "I… what?"
As I try to make sense of what just happened, Shiki speaks, "You were distracted. Something is troubling you."
"...What the hell was that? Your quirk?" It had to have been. There's no way a rubber knife would be able to do that otherwise.
She glances at the halved knife, then nods.
Cutting through rubber with rubber…there's gotta be more to it than that. "What else can you cut?"
"...anything."
I raise an eyebrow, though she can't see it. "Anything?"
Instead of answering, she goes to the weapons rack across the dojo and pulls out a katana. She comes back and unsheathes it, the blade not making the slightest whisper against the wooden sheath. Placing the handle in one hand and the tip flat across the other, she hands it to me. Dropping the ruined knife, I gently take the sword from her and examine it. The metal shines with a shimmering polish, and a swing causes a sharp yet quick whistle.
"I confess I know little about swords, but this is good steel."
"Thank you. Could you hold it in a basic stance, with two hands and the blade raised upwards?"
I copy the stance to the best of my ability, remembering her practice session with her father and a few old movies. It's heavier than I thought it would be, and the weight seems…off. Or maybe it isn't and I'm not used to holding a sword.
With blinding speed, she steps forward and slashes the blade. There's no sound, no feeling of resistance, o̴͕͇͚̔̈́͗̚n̷̤̬̼̉ļ̸̰̬͎̊ÿ̸̤͍̠́͌ ̵̯͔̖̠̅̽̓͜t̷̮̉́̉̇h̴̟̖̜̹̋̍͆͗̄e̶̡̯͚̿̉ ̶̝̻̺̀͠v̷͖̄̏o̵̰̣̱̺̍̉͐̊̕i̵͈̅͐͂̚̚ḏ̵̢̝̇̽̈́̚; one moment the blade is whole, and the next…I stare at a piece of broken steel.
I said it before, but what the fuck?
"Anything?"
She nods again.
I stare at her for a moment, then at the sword, then back at her. She returns the stare with one of calmness, though I swear that her lips just twitched.
…
…
…
I feel a wire connecting in my brain. In a battle that lasts moments, my common sense, paranoia, and desperation wage an all-out war against one another. I barely know her. She's fast, yes, and she knows how to use a knife well, but something like this?
'Mawla, do you approve?'
…
No answer. I guess it's up to me, again.
"Shiki…I have a proposal for you."
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 B: 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.
Yeah! I'm here and fresh! A prelude chapter for what's to come, I hope you are all ready! Shows a lot of POVs, including Ritsu's mom, which was long overdue, and more Jirou! I don't know if this update rate will keep (most likely not!), but I hope this satisfies you all!
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