Chapter 17
Erased
They arrived in the dead of winter. As she shuffled through the foreign land, her feet sank deep into the soft white soil. Shiho trudged along the concrete pavement covered in thick white snow, carrying a bag with just a few essentials. Exhausted from the thirteen-hour flight, she breathed a small sigh. A wisp of fog emerges from her lips, and she stares at it in awe. Fascinated, she did it again, before looking wearily at the man before her. The beast-like man in a long black trench coat was smoking as he waited for her. He would be her guardian, trainer, and handler. Shiho barely understood the orders she was given or the full scope of the organization her parents once belonged to. But she knew she could not disobey. There were numerous cigar scars on her arms, and she knew not to mention them. The man treated any weakness with contempt, and she refused to give him the pleasure.
It was quiet and dark, with street lamps flickering white in the inky blackness. The only sound she heard was the crunch of her boots on the powdery snow. There was a blanket of white covering the roofs of her neighborhood. An unassuming-looking house in a middle-class area is perfect for their disguise. A blue roof and raised porch adorned the terrace. It was a modest abode.
Taking his hat off, Gin brushed the snow away from his hat. Gold, emotionless eyes studied her as she made her way inside. Taking his time and meticulously inspecting each room, he made his way through the house like a predator looking for prey. Shiho stands by the entryway, waiting for him to reappear.
"We will start tomorrow," he gestures to the stairs. "Six o'clock sharp, Sherry. I won't repeat myself."
Shiho nodded wordlessly. It was a mistake. She was unceremoniously pinned against the wall by his vicious advances. Her bag drops to the ground as she gasps. "Don't you have a mouth?" he sneers menacingly, "Answer me!"
She couldn't help it. Fear flooded in, and tears emerges as he squeezed her.
"Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," she forced out, and he released her. She falls to the ground, choking from the impact. Gin snorts with disgust in his eyes.
"Weak," he growls before moving past her into the basement and slamming the doors behind him. Shiho sits there for a moment, clutching her throat. Bruises formed from where he gripped her, and she let out a small sob.
No. I promised Onee-chan.
Slowly, she composed herself. I will do my best. I will work hard.
They will meet soon. They will reunite once more. Trembling slightly, she picked herself up and braced herself. She could do this.
I'll see Onee-chan again.
"Buenos Dias, Satsuki," the neighbor greeted. Miguel Belmonte, an old man of Mexican descent, was revered as a grandfather in the neighborhood. A retired Navy veteran, he mostly monitors the children while they play from his porch.
"Did you break your arm…again?" Miguel asked. There were worried lines on his wrinkled, tanned face. Shiho forced a smile as she stared at his brown eyes. She had intended to take out the trash when no one was around. After all, explaining the injuries she sustains on a regular basis was extremely tiresome. Miguel was already suspicious, and she didn't want Gin to hear this.
"I fell during practice."
"That's what you said last week, Satsuki."
Picking up the garbage bag, Shiho remained still.
He appeared behind her, and she paused, tensing. Silent, like a ghost—she could feel the threat in Gin's gaze alone. A hand snaked over her shoulder, grabbing it, and she winced as he squeezed it.
"Buenos Dias, Miguel," Gin starts.
"How are you doing, Jun?" Miguel greets the silver-haired man with his given alias. Satsuki and Jun Fujita. False names were given to them by the organization. A year had passed since they moved here. Their cover was that of a single father who came to America to live with his daughter after the death of his wife. Although he wore a black trench coat and had silver hair, Gin blended in. When needed, he would flash a friendly smile. He was known for being quiet and composed but also very helpful. Frequently offering to fix broken equipment around the neighborhood. Eventually, they met Miguel Belmonte. And although they kept their distance, the old man kept trying to worm his way in.
It was dangerous, and Shiho knew what would happen if the old man got too close. There was already an unexplained murder nearby. An entire family had been wiped out. Shiho could only wince as the police investigated but to no avail. The children Shiho played with had asked too many questions, and she made the mistake of revealing things about her life that she shouldn't have.
"I'm fine, Miguel," Gin answered with a wave.
"Jun, what happened to your daughter?"
"The girl has been practicing too hard, and even though I told her to rest after the last injury, Satsuki insisted. You know how stubborn she can be," Gin laughed, placing a gentle hand on her head and teasing her hair. Shiho gave a practiced smile as Miguel sighed.
"Listen to your father, Satsuki. Too many broken bones will stunt your growth," chided the old man.
She nodded as Gin grinned.
"Anyway, Miguel, it's nice to meet you," he waved at the old man before heading back into the house. Shutting the door behind them, he spins around before Shiho can react.
"I thought I told you," his voice emotionless. The friendly demeanor he displayed earlier was gone. She trembled in the wake of his piercing gaze, "Not to be seen."
"I'm sorry," she replied as he placed his hand on her cast-covered shoulder. He squeezed it hard. Biting her lip, she attempted to contain the scream threatening to escape.
"Sorry is not enough, Sherry," he responded. "You must realize what this means, don't you?"
"I am sorry," Shiho was terrified. His words hold promise. She did not want to repeat the experience. The man grabs her as she struggles. Laughing, Gin slammed her against the wall. Involuntarily, she screamed, the pain running through her broken shoulder and arm.
A tense silence followed, and he was furious. "You best pray," his breath hot and burning, "that no one heard you.'"
Fear filled her. No…please…not—
Taking her arm, he drags her again into the basement. The musky smell and the rhythmic dripping sound of leaky pipes greeted her as she was forced onto the wet concrete ground. The shadows engulfed her, and fear reigned around her. Memories of her last encounter flooded her mind, and she gasped when she saw the box.
Above the box—used to store large dogs—radiated bright white light from a fluorescent iron lamp. A speaker was located adjacent to it. It filled Shiho with an inexplicable sense of dread. "What are you waiting for?" the man smirked as Shiho looked at him. "Hurry up. I don't have all day."
She was unable to move. It was as if chains bound her ankles, and Shiho was held in place by an insidious, almost deliberate foreboding. No…I can't-
Tears well up in her eyes as he lifts her by her injured shoulder. "What did I tell you about emotions, Sherry?" Gin threatens, the weight on her shoulders an ominous warning, and she tried with all her strength to calm herself. Her legs trembled, and she collapsed to the ground.
"It is clear that there is still much work to be done," Gin sighed. Shiho is lifted and stuffed into the box. She was plunged into unimaginable darkness. It was cramp. Suffocating. She could not move or stretch with her body curled up. Her hands were over her ears as she sat, her heart thudding as the heat increased. The dull throbbing pain in her shoulder becomes a sharp agonizing pain. Shiho pleaded fervently with him to let her go.
"Sherry!" he slammed his fist firmly against the box. The tremors made her wince and shiver. Her body shuddered under immense pressure. "I told you to control your emotions, didn't I?"
Gin struck the box repeatedly, and she tried and tried to calm down, but she couldn't. It was too much, and tears kept flowing. She sat in a fetal position, surrounded by darkness. The air was heavy and thick, just like water. The pain in her chest spreads from her shoulders down her body, flashing like lightning and coming in like waves of a crashing ocean.
"Let me out," she pleaded feverishly. "Please let me go."
He wouldn't. He never did.
Discordant static noises began to emanate from the speakers. Sounds captured in a basement. The recording of the family Gin had killed. The family that Shiho had gotten too close to. They screamed for their lives to be spared. A father and mother, George and Sarah Woods. Constantly pleading. Kelly and Martha Woods, ten-year-old twins, wailed as Gin tied them up. The man promised their freedom if they remained silent. Gin held them for days. Tied with ropes, without food or water. Their screams and pleading went unheard as they writhed in the darkness of their basement. He taunted them. It was a sick game. Recording their voices as they became weaker and weaker—until finally, when they were hopeless and despondent, he allowed them to escape.
"You can go," Gin's voice echoed on the recording.
They scrambled away from the broken ropes holding them. Stumbling up the stairs and towards the exit. She heard them running and their cries of— joy of being free, of finally being able to escape, of being alive.
Shiho squeezed her ears hard, hearing Sarah's screams blaring from the speakers. There was an agonizing inhumane wail as Gin shot twice. Soft thuds were heard as the children collapsed—dead. Shiho closed her eyes, refusing to listen anymore. She had played with them a few months earlier. Shiho shouldn't have. Too many questions were asked when they saw the bruises. Child protective services were contacted. Gin hid behind a facade, telling everyone that it was all heresy. The people trusted him. Gin's anger at the situation sealed the fate of the Woods family.
"Why!?" George wept.
A third shot was fired, and the man collapsed to the ground in a heap.
"You should have kept your mouth shut," Gin whispered to the woman whose hysterical cries echoed through the speakers. A constant reminder of what Shiho had done. Gin fired the last round, and the woman fell to the ground. The sound of her body hitting the ground filled the air. An entire family was destroyed—because Shiho had gotten too close.
Gin replayed their last moments repeatedly. Over and over, she saw their bloodied faces, deaths, and eyes haunting her from within the prison of the small cube-shaped box.
"Stop," she shook uncontrollably, the walls closing around her.
"Stop!"
Bile rushes down her throat, and she vomits.
The smells mixed, the air got hotter and hotter—sweat, blood, screams—an orchestra of agony.
He released her hours later, laughing at her condition. Kicking her once, Gin held Shiho by her hair and told her to prepare for training. Darkness swirled before her, turning into an abyss of despair that she was unable to escape. Closing her eyes, she resigned herself to her fate.
"Onee-chan," Shiho whispered. Within the darkness, she saw Akemi. It was their last meeting before she separated. Her sister holding her.
"Promise me, Shiho," Akemi whispered. "That you will do your best. Onee-chan will see you soon, I promise."
With a shuddering breath, she swallowed, trying to control her tremors.
"No emotions, Sherry." The man ordered.
"No emotions."
"This is training," he told her on the first day in America. Pressing his feet hard against her chest. At eleven years old, she couldn't comprehend the violence he sometimes displayed. With his sick smile, he evoked emotions that haunted her. "You're weak," he sneered, his grin widening when she cried. Her fear was a source of pleasure for him, and she wrestled with it daily. But no matter how much she tried, she was often rendered useless.
Training continued through the night, mostly under cover of darkness. They were long and arduous. Combat techniques were learned through physical activity. Shiho was often his punching bag, and she endured the excruciating pain of being thrown to the ground repeatedly.
On weekends, they took gun lessons at the firing range. For hours on end, the movements were drilled into her. Her abilities to assemble and disassemble the weapon rapidly improved over time. Yet despite her advancements, the man continued to be unsatisfied. Often hitting or berating her when he decided she was not good enough.
Training continued, and time passed.
When Shiho was twelve, Gin was called back to Japan for a mission. She was then enrolled in a prestigious private college. And she studied despite being placed in an unfamiliar environment with students a few years older than her. Formulas and equations are much easier to comprehend than matters at home. Both Shiho and her classmates know that she was unusual. Too young. Her professors had quickly referred to her as a genius. They said she was quick and able to understand concepts better than most of her classmates. So when she topped the class, Shiho quickly became a talking point among the students. It was attention she despised and took to pushing everyone who came too close.
Her efforts paid off, and she spent most of her time alone. It was better this way. Gin had taught her that lesson the hard way. Shiho could not bear to see anyone ruined by her transgressions.
It was lonely but a respite from Gin. Other handlers cycled through, posing as guardians during his absence. And though they were unassuming to the needs of a child, they were more respectful of her boundaries. In any case, they did not use violence to discipline her. However, like Gin, they were often cold and lacking in empathy, and soon Shiho found she could no longer smile.
Her only motivation was Akemi. Just knowing that this was a temporary situation kept her going. The days passed, dull and without color. She went to school, studied, worked on her projects, and it repeated itself.
Until she met them. They were relentless and persistent. A dangerous entity threatening to destroy the very foundation that Gin had built. Breaking through her wall. Shiho grew complacent. Allowing them into her life.
"Satsuki, was it?" the young man asked. She was thirteen and seated by the cafeterias of the university canteen. Most of her classmates knew to avoid her. Shiho was, at best, unresponsive to their advances and, at worse, a bitter-biting girl with a sharp tongue that left no room for conversation. She had purposely made it so. Not that she was bothered. She would do anything to keep people away.
He was different, with warm ash-gray eyes that looked into her through thick glasses. When he grinned, his bracers showed through. His short brown hair was a mess of curly locks, and freckles dotted his cheeks.
"My name is Daniel Solis, and I am a biochemistry student. It is nice to meet you," he introduces himself. She raised an eyebrow when he sat beside her, munching on a sandwich rather loudly.
"I enjoyed reading your report on the possibility of reverse engineering cells. I found it fascinating. Would you like to join me in discussing some theories I have to offer?" Daniel grinned. Shiho ignored him, looking instead at her book on Quantum Particles. The words, though a jumbled mess, made sense to her.
"Hmm...I guess not," he continued to sit beside her, unperturbed by her rude behavior. The days continued, and Daniel Solis became a constant. During lunch, he sat by her table and talked about various topics that particularly interested him. It was sometimes about chemistry, sometimes about animals, especially sharks. Then it was about his family, about his mom making the best tacos in the world. Sometimes, he talked about himself, how he was a child prodigy and had been enrolled in a university just like her. His age prevented him from making friends, so he was glad she was there. Shiho mostly ignored him, reading her book, but as time passed, she found herself listening to his rabble more than she cared to admit.
It had been a busy afternoon, and Shiho was paired with Daniel—to her complete dismay—for an upcoming group project. The teenage boy, ecstatic, followed her through the pack of students heading toward the cafeteria. Shiho noticed it while he was chatting about compound organics and other exciting topics. As his arms flailed about in excitement, Daniel was about to hit a woman carrying hot coffee. She grabbed the boy immediately and pulled him away from danger. The woman tripped, and the coffee spilled on Shiho's arms. The scalding liquid burns her skin. There were some gasps, shrieks, and silence upon seeing the burns on her arm.
"Satsuki! Are you hurt?" Daniel breaks the silence. And then she was ushered about. The girl who spilled the drink apologized profusely, and a few other students offered her tissues to wipe up the liquid. "Ice, we need ice-"
Shiho ignored the commotion and walked away as the procession took place behind her. "Hey, wait! You're hurt-"
It stung, the familiar feeling of pain lingering on skin, but—
She smirked. She must have benefited from the training. It didn't hurt at all.
"You need to ice that-"
"I'm fine," she answered Daniel for the first time, and he paused, eyes widening at the sound of her voice. He glanced at her for a moment, then at her red skin.
"But you're hurt," he said softly. There was guilt behind those gray eyes, and she shrugged.
"Anyone would have done the same," Shiho replied nonchalantly, "It's not a big deal."
Turning away from him, she began to walk away. She needed to change clothes and perhaps take a break from afternoon lessons. The incident today would spread like wildfire through gossip, and Shiho did not need to be the center of attention—ever.
"Hey! Wait up!"
Daniel followed her. Taking long and complicated routes, she tried to shake him off, but he persisted. Chasing after her like—yes, like a puppy after its master. Shiho was more than irritated, and she faced him, stopping right at the gate. "What are you?" she demanded, "A stalker?"
Flustered, Daniel shook his head vehemently, "What?! No, I just wanted-" he took a deep breath.
"I just wanted to thank you," his voice carrying a softness and sincerity like—Akemi's. It was nostalgic, and Shiho's lips parted slightly. She could not hide her surprise, and Daniel smiled broadly.
"Este es tu novio?" Miguel, seated by the porch, was watching them with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"He's not my boyfriend," Shiho pursed her lips, and he laughed. Daniel became increasingly embarrassed, his cheeks red. And then—
"Wait, you can speak Spanish!" he exclaimed. Shiho raised an eyebrow at his assertion.
"Oh, our Satsuki speaks many languages, right girl," Miguel said.
Shiho waves his statement away. She was about to walk into the house when Daniel caught up to her and grabbed her arm. She winced, pulling away, and he frowned.
"Go home, Daniel," Shiho states, and the boy slaps a cooling pad on her burnt arm. His action was sudden, and she was about to punch him. But then the pain subsided, and the stinging sensation went away. "The girl who spilled the drink wanted to apologize and gave this to me. You should ice that though, and Satsuki," he said, "Eres realmente genial!"
She paused, pursing her lips at his statement, and he gave her a cheeky grin. "I'll see you tomorrow," Daniel grins before walking away. Shiho stands by the porch for a moment before entering the house.
"Who is he?"
An unmistakable rasp echoes through the air, chilling her to the bone. Once again, the silver-haired beast was standing before her.
"A schoolmate," she replied. Gin regarded the information with emotionless eyes. They were dead. A black hole, bearing nothing. She could not read him, and a fresh wave of terror swept over her when he smiled. As he moved closer, her heart pounded. Her knees buckled when he slapped her. The memories of the abuse he had perpetrated flooded back as she bit her lips to keep from crying out.
No weakness. You cannot.
"Remember, Sherry," he drawled. A primal fear was evoked by his deep, resonant voice. "Those who get too close," words carrying a dark promise she knows he will keep. "Gets killed."
With that comment, Gin ordered her to get ready.
"A mission," he instructed vaguely. Shiho followed him to the black Porsche parked outside the house. Settling in it, he pulled open the compartment, and her mouth went dry. The color drains from her face as she stares at the item he has placed in her hand. It was cold, with no form of life, and it was real. She had handled it many times before—but not like this. Not for a mission.
The Glock, an automatic pistol, rested in her hands. Gin did not speak but instead started the car. Dread filled her. Inexplicably, she sinks into the throes of a Mariana trench.
Following a dirt road into the countryside a few miles west, they drove down through the small town. Shiho stared at the scenery, her fingers tightening around the weapon.
Gin parked next to an abandoned barn situated in the middle of a large green field covered in tall weeds and grass. The area was littered with trash, ranging from large furniture pieces to plastic cups. The sky above them was a deep gray. Summer winds whipped fervently around them as he led her through the creaking doors, which groaned against their rusted hinges. It was dark inside, carrying the stench of mud and a hint of blood. The shadows crept around the haystacks everywhere, and she flinched when Gin pulled a man out. A middle-aged man is bound with a rope. Blood was flowing slowly from a head wound on the right side of his temple.
Shiho recognized him. John Wilson, a software engineer who visited the house a couple of times. A correspondent for the organization. He was one of the few guests who greeted her with a smile. And yet, here he was, his ordinarily neat crew-cut hair a mess and his gray eyes staring at her with horror. His cheeks were stained with tears. "Please," he begged, "whatever it is—please do not kill me."
John had a cracked pair of spectacles, the glass missing from one end. Hay and dry blood covered his black suit, and the sleeves of his shirt were torn. "I have a family; a baby is on the way, please," he sobbed hard, hyperventilating. Gin glared at the man and kicked him hard, making him fall back with a yell.
"You went to the FBI," Gin said coldly, and the man's eyes widened in shock. "A rat you are. Don't worry," Gin drawled, "Your family would join you soon."
"It won't happen again!"
John was desperate now, groveling on his knees, and all Shiho could do was tighten her grip on the pistol. Blood was rushing into her ears, her heart pounding furiously in her chest— it almost hurt.
Turning to her, Gin laughed. "Kill him, Sherry," the beast ordered.
As gold eyes bore into hers, Shiho dropped the gun. No…this was wrong. She did not want to do this—
Gin grabbed her by the shirt, pulling her close. She could smell the smoke from the cigar he had smoked earlier. "Sherry, do you intend to disobey me—again?" Gin commanded menacingly. His voice was steady, but it withheld a madness that rendered Shiho immobile.
A puddle of liquid grew on the dirt ground beneath John as he whimpered. Gin released her, and she picked up the gun slowly. The beast of a man grinned as she aimed the gun at John's forehead. A pair of gray eyes pleaded with her, urging her to stop. All she saw was his fear, which mirrors her own, reflecting the horror of the situation they found themselves in. She was consumed with guilt and sadness so profound that it made it difficult to stand. There was no way she could carry out this mission. But— There was no escape. No place to run.
She raised the gun, her fingers upon the trigger, circling it—
Aiming the gun at her temple, she pulled the trigger. Gin slammed her onto the ground almost immediately. The smoking pistol was flung into the distance. Furious cold-blooded eyes glared into hers. "Was that my order, Sherry!"
She couldn't breathe, and he whipped to John. The man barely had time to scream as Gin brandished his very own pistol, shooting it. The sound defeating as John fell to the ground, a hole through his forehead, blood gushing from the lethal wound. Ashen gray eyes stared into hers.
"You disobeyed me."
The consequences were severe.
He drags her back to the Porsche and drives back to the house, where she finds herself trapped in the musky confines of the basement once again.
"Do you know what happens to traitors, Sherry?" he was practically urging her on, and Shiho understood that no response would satisfy him. He lifted her by her shirt collar as she remained despondent. Chains were tightly wrapped around her wrist before he let go of her. Her wrist bones ached from the pressure applied by the shackles. His hands clamped around her cheeks.
"They die," he takes out the baton. Several hard blows were delivered, and Shiho bit down, trying to control herself. Eventually, it got too much, and she screamed. He eyed her with contempt, snorting at her cries.
"Naive little fool."
It lasted for several hours, leaving bruises that ached, throbbing slowly like a beating drum. Gin released her, and she collapsed. Her wrist was swollen, and her back was wet from sweat and blood.
"Weak," he dismissed her.
Shiho lay on the concrete floor for a long time, breathing heavily as her body shook. Searing pain tore through, almost as if her back was on fire. She could barely speak; gritting her teeth, she struggled to stand.
The climb up the stairs was laborious and difficult. Struggling through the last few steps, Shiho collapsed into the light of early morning. It blinded her briefly.
Taking deep breaths, Shiho catches sight of the bruises in a nearby mirror. Red scarlets ran down her back and shoulders.
Gin had been right.
"No more,'" she clenched her hands into tight fists. Taking another deep breath, she fought to control the panic that threatened to consume her. Focus. She could not allow herself to be weak. She could not let herself falter. Having regained her composure, Shiho faced the mirror and wiped the tears with her hands. "Erase it,'" she murmured harshly, repeating the mantra endlessly.
Suppressing her emotions, she shuts her eyes.
No more.
When Shiho opened them again, a girl stared back at her, turning into ice.
Part 1/3- This was hard to write...
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