Chapter 6: The Tailor and The Girl
I once more find myself in the sands.
The endless sea of dunes and rocks stretches out before me. I feel my skin throbbing as the blistering hot winds blow against me. The horizon blurs from heat. Phantom ripples appear in the distance, deceiving me into thinking that they are pools of cool water. The sky is clouded, yet many rays of light shine through. But the light, it is strange. It is not the sun, and yet it is. There is a…purity to it.
I take the view in all at once. Anyone who would look at this place would deem it inhospitable. Unlivable. A hell on earth that no man should venture into. I agree. What can live here, in this barren wasteland?
The sky dims and I feel the heat die down. The winds no longer boil my skin, but start to soothe it with their coolness. The sands darken. The stones become ominous shadows. The faint light of the moon and the sparkles of stars shine through the clouds
I feel something shifting underneath my feet. I look down and see a serpent, crawling out of the dune and over my leg. My ears, sharper than most, hears its hisses like an ominous death rattle. To my left, I hear the sand move again, and this time it is a long-legged rodent, poking its head out of a tiny burrow. Its name escapes me. To my right, many legs scurry around. A scorpion with its tail raised high.
It seems that even in hell, life finds a way.
The snake turns and digs deeper into the sand, slowly slithering towards the rodent. The scorpion pauses and after a moment, skitters in the same direction.
But one should always be cautious; for wherever there is life…
Like a bullet, the snake springs up from the sand and bites down hard on the unfortunate creature. It struggles, it kicks, it claws. But its predator is resilient and unyielding. It tries to pull out one last time…and then stills.
…death is lurking not far behind.
The snake happily gorges itself on a meal, forcing the small mammal down into its gullet, a noticeable swelling forming behind its mouth. Now it shall live for another day until the call of the hunt summons it once more.
Dodge all you can. Run at great speeds. Hide in the deepest pits or loneliest fields. Triumph over any adversary…
It does notice the arachnid until it leaps and grabs the tail of the rodent. The snake is startled and tries to shake it off, but the scorpion is persistent, desperate for food. For a moment, it lets go…only to leap again right atop the serpent's back, and drive it stinger through the scales. The snake thrashes and the scorpion is flung off, but I know that the poison will take hold soon.
…death will always be there, right in your shadow.
A harsh sight. But I suppose that's how nature works. Even humans, the elevated species, more gifted than any other creature alive, follow this pattern. Even if they don't realize it.
Is it bad? Depends. I have no other answer.
I look up and a light catches my eye. Several of them, just below the horizon. Soft, orange lights, forming a trail in the distance. Could it be…?
I start running towards the lights. I am not exactly sure why. Instinct? Intuition? Desperation, stemming from a desire to see something else other than death in this haunting land? Regardless, I pay these thoughts no further heed. The sands underneath me are soft, uneven. Sometimes they nearly make me slip. Other times, I feel like I am sinking. Yet I keep moving. Climbing over and sliding down the dunes.
The lights are now brighter, peaking from just above the sandy hill like a rising sun. I walk up the crumbling slope, hearing my heartbeat rise. At the very last stretch, I crawl on my belly, lifting my head over the peak.
They were people. People wading through the desert, some on foot, some in horse-drawn carts. They were all huddled up in layers of cloth, covering up everything but their eyes. Lanterns were everywhere held by men or attached to the carts, like a cluster of fireflies. A caravan, I remember the term.
They all looked weary. Their postures were slouched. They dragged themselves, rather than walked, through the desert road. The men looked like they were barely holding on to whatever was in their hands. The women seemed to curl in on themselves, cradling their swaddled infants. The children, so short, their clothes looking like they hung rather than fit them. But their eyes. Even from atop the dune I saw them. Their eyes barely held onto the spark of life. Only the presence of their brethren, their family, seemed to hold them together.
Victims of those horrid times. Chased out by those who thought their beliefs were superior. Trampled on by armies and forces who cared little for them. They turned north, seeking refuge in the eagle's nest.
I turn in the direction of the caravan's movement. There is nothing but more desert, more rocks, more inhospitable wild. What refuge do these people seek here?
The sky in front of me brightens, and I witness a spectacular change. The dunes in the distance turn to green plateaus. The sandstone rocks turn to craggy grey mountains. The faint sound of water tickles my ears. But there is something else.
Nestled atop a high rock, trapped in a valley, there stood a fortress. Ringed by stone walls, its towering spires and minarets seemed to glow like beacons. I hear the distant noise of a man, singing loudly in an exotic tongue. Whispers from behind me speak of excitement and hope.
But the enemies, for they were many, saw them as an aberration, a heresy that had to be stamped out. They possessed the power to do so, their numbers vast and swords sharp.
The ground begins to rumble underneath me. The whispers grow frightful, some even panicked. I swerve my head to try and spot whatever was coming – and there it is. On the other side of the valley, a sea of black manifests before me and splits; one half rides towards the mountains, the other heads in my direction. The direction of the caravan.
As they approached me, I began making out their features. Domed helmets on tanned heads, some less than others. Chainmail covered by cloaks, and curved swords strapped to their sides. While the caravan's mounts looked exhausted and underfed, their horses were muscular and strong, galloping forward at high speeds. Bristling spears rise up from the black mass, and blue banners with a two-headed white bird were unfurled. Riding a black horse at the front was a bearded man with a more ornate headgear, bearing a white cloak and a posture that radiated superiority.
I would not stand for it. My people, my followers, who had sought sanctuary from these mass butchers did not deserve to be cut down like common cattle. Thus, I acted.
A flash of light draws my attention to the fortress again. Standing on the ramparts was a lone figure cloaked in black. It was obvious to me who he was – or rather, is. He lifts his gigantic sword taps it down. A ghostly blue light shone through its windows, enveloping the structure until it resembled a halo. But there was nothing heavenly about this sight.
BONG
The world seemed to pause at the sound of the bell. The leader's eyes widened briefly in horror before his head went flying off his body. The men riding beside him gaped at the sight of their leader, winner of dozens of battles, falling off his mount in a bloody slump.
BONG
Cries of confusion ring out from the sea of soldiers. Several important-looking men raise their voices, trying to order commands, only for blood to spurt out of their necks. Further panic ensues, the once disciplined army was slowly degrading into an armed unruly mob.
BONG
More blood. More heads. Death had entered the battlefield and was now claiming its debt. The debt that all men pay.
Another flash of blue light, and he appears once more on the mountainside, the ethereal aura enveloping him still.
BONG
Suddenly, I fall. A pressure forces me on my knees. It is…primal. Terrifying. Absolute. I dry heave as I muster whatever strength I have to look up. The army before me fares no better. Some have even collapsed, their eyes rolled over and blank. They all shared that feeling of terror. And feeling that tremendous force myself, I understand them. I understand their fear, the recognition of their situation.
Either they leave, or perish.
BONG
The ground rumbles once more. The forces that had come to reap these travelers retreated. Their howls of despair, their raw fear, echoed throughout the sands and the mountains. Against all odds, it was a victory.
My vision grows dark. My knees begin to buckle as my head sways. But just before my sight leaves me and I collapse into the sands, I glimpse the mountain fortress once more, and my body shivers.
The ring in the sky. It is there.
And so, tales of my feats spread throughout the land, through empires and kingdom. My followers now had a safe refuge from all the carnage of those horrid wars. Those who persecuted us now leave us in peace, in fear of going to sleep and never waking up.
But as the seasons pass, as I gaze from my solar in my nest, a sense of foreboding begins to take root. I am but one man. How long can I keep my people safe? How do I uphold my vows as their leader?
How do I protect them, when I am no longer able to?
-x-
RRRIIING!
"Ugh…" the moan escapes my throat as the final bell rings for the day. The familiar sounds of relief are music to my ears as the students prepare to leave the school in search of some much-needed leisure. I too scramble for my textbook and quickly stuff it in my bag. Ignoring the aching protests of my back, I rush to the hallway where the sea of students streams outside.
I quickly walk through the halls and down the stairs, the exit doors beckoning me forward. I need something to cool my head, it feels like it's overloading. Maybe a nice triple-scoop of cookies-and-cream will –
"Ogawa-kun?"
I turn to the sound of the familiar voice. "Makoto-sensei. Do you need something?"
She shook her head. "Not really. Just wanted to see how you are doing. The end-of-year exams period can be very stressful."
I rub my head. "Yeah, I know. Felt like my brain was about to explode today."
She giggled as she placed a hand over her mouth. "You just have to bear with it a little longer. Then you'll have break before the second-year term starts."
"And I count the days until that blissful time comes."
She smiled at me before tilting her head curiously. She then took a step forward and looked me up and down. I raise an eyebrow. Is there something on my clothes?
"Have you been working out?"
I blink. That was odd. "A little, why?"
"Your posture," Makoto-sensei says with a hum. "You don't slouch like before. And I've looked at your Phys Ed reports, they've gone up since last term."
I slightly shift my bag. "A bit. My mom recommended it. Said it would help me with my studies. 'A fit mind in a fit body' and all that."
She nodded approvingly. "It is actually a good idea. Not many choose to take it though, they say it impedes their study time. How is she by the way?"
I shrug. "She's fine. There haven't been any important cases lately so she comes home more often. Our Christmas party was fun." I smile as the memories come to me. "She made hot chocolate with Oreos and got me a few books as a gift."
That had been one of the highlights of the past year. Me spending time with Mom, laughing over American comedy shows while drinking that heavenly drink (don't drool Ritsu), and me teaching her some fun history lessons, especially from one of my new books, The Silk Road. She even said that she had learned more world history from me than she ever did when she was in school.
And that…for a moment, made me feel like a total scumbag. I was taken aback by how lighthearted I felt, considering my hidden activities. How could I feel so happy, knowing what I do without her knowledge?
I keep from her for good reasons but…it still left a bad taste in my mouth.
Then Mawla, who had remained silent throughout the whole celebration, said this:
'Did thou not desire a life of comfort? A life where thou can enjoy thyself despite the burden thou have undertaken? Do not deny thyself these moments, contractor. Else thou will be crushed under the weight of despair. There were disciples of mine who allowed themselves to sink into misery by the weight of their actions, and it utterly ruined them. Do not make the same mistake they did.'
I have to admit, it felt unusual coming from someone as devoted as Hassan. But maybe it was because of that that I felt better afterward.
"Ogawa-kun!" I snap out of my musing and refocus on my teacher. I quickly shake my head. "It's nothing. Just remembered our Christmas party."
Makoto-sensei nodded before giving me a worried look. "Ogawa-kun…are you sure you're alright?"
…I did not know which way this conversation was going. "Yes, why?"
"…you've been dozing off in class – don't deny it" she cuts me off. "The other teachers told me. Some days you have bags under your eyes. Other days it looks like you're in constant pain. Please, Ogawa-kun" she implores, her eyes filled with concern. "If there's a problem, you can tell me. Don't say that it isn't my job to care; it is."
I'm taken aback by her pleading. Wow…I…damn, way to make me feel like an even bigger scumbag, sensei.
I sigh and put on my best smile. "Like I said before, I'm fine sensei. I'm not doing drugs or any of that bullshit, I'm smarter than that. It's just that the exams are making me a little stressed. Believe me, I don't want to enter the second year of high school as a zombie."
My smile alleviates her concern a little, but her expression remains the same. "If you say so, Ogawa-kun." She then gives me another smile in return. "Just remember that my door is always open."
"I'll be sure to do that!" With that, I wave at her and head out, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in my gut. Sorry sensei, but this isn't something you can help me with.
'Her concern for thee is admirable, contractor.'
"She's always been like that" I reply, heading to the station. "Since the first day of high school. It can get a bit annoying at times, but she's given me some help with my studies here and there."
'It is obvious she favors thee.'
I scrunch up my face. "You think so?"
'I know so. I am not unfamiliar with the look she gave thee. And the way she smiled at thee whenever thou answered her questions is a very prominent sign. Frankly, I am concerned how thou did not notice this.'
I pause for a moment. "Her favorite, huh?" I fidget on my foot and look down at the pavement. I think back to all of the times she talked to me in person, whether it be on my antisocial behavior, my questionable essays, or even when I had trouble with homework. I always felt like she was singling me out because of my general attitude, which was unlike the rest of my classmates. Maybe that was still true at first. But her favorite?
I sigh and scratch the back of my head. 'Way to make me feel worse, Mawla.'
'Apologies. But thou chose this path. Even if thou desire to live comfortably, it will clash at times. Then thou must learn what to put aside and what to prioritize. Never forget that.'
I nod. "I won't." I resume my walk. 'Still, I'm surprised you let me study more. Thought you would've insisted on finding more targets.'
'There will always be scum roaming the streets and as I said to thee before, these yakuza will not vanish soon. A former scholar such as myself understands the importance of education. During my time only priests, nobility and certain merchant families had access to what this society considers commonplace. If anything, thou should be more grateful.'
'If you look at it that way, maybe. But all those questions and all of that text to memorize…ugh" I rub my forehead. "I don't really know how I'm managing" I mumble. Soon I arrive at the station and descend down the stairs.
'What's today's schedule?'
'Nothing too strenuous. Thou shalt do some training sets and then thou may proceed home. These examinations are important to thee, so I recommend holding off on any strenuous missions until thou have finished them.'
I blink in surprise. That…sounded reasonable. Didn't think I could pull an all-night scouting either. Guess Mawla knows what he's doing.
"Of course he does. He's done this for years." I mutter under my breath. I shake myself a bit and straighten up. "Hosu it is then."
A train ride and a Concealed walk later and I am in front of the rusted door. It opens with little difficulty and I quickly shut it. I pull out the mask, place it on my face and walk down the rusty stairs, the darkness of the room made clear by the artifact's powers.
I throw my bag to the side and the Old Man of the Mountain appears before me, his robes formed into shadows. With a tap of his sword, the familiar circle with lines appears.
"Begin."
Like many times before, I go through the motions. Up, down, over, under, always forward. My falls are less frequent, and my body begins to react more on instinct. Or was it muscle memory? That was very good. As Mawla says: "In stealth, silence and immobility are your allies. In combat, they are swiftness and precision."
After several rounds, I await my next instruction, lightly panting.
"Repeat. Use thy dagger."
I summon the ancient dagger to my hand and begin again. Only this time, I cut and swing while moving. Jump over a line – then cut it. Roll under – then cut. Swerve to the side – then cut. Let me just say, this is insanely difficult. I could barely cut any of them during the first two weeks. Coordinating between moving, dodging and cutting makes me feel like I'm back in class, but with aching arms alongside my head.
Thankfully, I don't screw up too badly this session. A few misses here and there, resulting in nasty mental shocks, but I'd like to think I did relatively well.
"Passable. Thy rate of progress is adequate. Naturally, there is much more room for improvement."
Aaand there it was.
I progress on to a few sets of stretches and basic muscle exercises. After the final stretch was done, I quickly pull out both a towel and a bottle of water from the gym bag and drink, letting it cool my parched throat.
"That is all for today. Thou may return home."
I nod absentmindedly, drying off my sweaty body with the towel. God, how do I feel so stuffy when it's the middle of winter? At least there was no snow, that would've been a nightmare.
I return the towel to the gym bag, but then I pause and pull out my black 'work' hoodie – the one I use for my assassinations. I just picked something in my closet that didn't stand out too much and had pockets, and what I held fit the bill. No signs, two big pockets, and a drawstring. Nice and simple.
It also had a faint stink – not for the first time – and was littered with small tears and cuts. Overall, it had seen better days. At least the gloves were more durable.
The stink was easy enough to manage with a quick laundry cycle, but the rest?
"I think I might need a better outfit."
Hassan didn't reply. I take it as a sign to continue. "This thing is starting to tear up fast, and I don't really feel like buying new hoodies every time one is destroyed."
"Ah, but 'tis a useful tactic. Changing clothes frequently will serve to throw off those seeking thee" he says.
"Yeah, but I'm scared that someone will get a little suspicious if they find out there's a guy who buys hoodies frequently. I've been careful to make sure no one sees me, and Concealment helps, but still."
"I am sure there are many who buy such garments. And in a city of this size, dost thou really think that someone will pay attention to such a minute deal?"
"…point. That actually does sound stupid." I concede. I still frown as I feel the thick synthetic cloth. It keeps me warm, but what else? "But this is just a piece of cloth. If I'm going to be moving on to bigger targets, I'm gonna need something that'll keep me protected."
I turn to look at him and to my shock, his posture stills and then nods.
"Thy reasoning is sound. I have briefly forgotten that the people of this age can be more destructive than those of my time, especially with their abilities. A knife seems paltry compared to the tales thou have told me."
I blink as I try to give a reply. Hassan agreeing with me, fully? No condescending remark?
Huh, already this day got weird.
"…I guess that's my next course then," I say. I finish toweling myself off and get ready to leave. "And that's the rub: Where exactly do I get one? Good outfits - no way I am calling it a costume - like the Heroes wear aren't available to the public. Not to mention if there is such a thing as ordering one, they probably have it tracked, and that's a huge risk."
"I am confident in thy ability to find a solution to this quandary."
"Thanks" I deadpan, just as I finish packing. "Well, time to head home." With those words, I head back out into the streets.
I walk to the station, the dilemma of an outfit stuck in my head. I can't just go and ask a Hero Agency or something, and if independent contractors exist, they might ask questions. What I need is someone who does a good job and is willing to be discreet. I could go to the Nine Rings and fish for some info, but they're yakuza; doesn't seem like they deal with Hero-level outfits, especially if they want to stay on the downside.
What to do, what to do…at worst, I really will have to just cycle through hoodies. Which, considering Hassan's point, doesn't sound like that bad of an idea. Maybe if I buy a few all at once it'll be less suspicious. I certainly have the cash for it.
But as I sit down on the train's bench and scroll through my phone, something catches my eye.
It was a news article from some random site, and there was an image that showed Best Jeanist, one of the top Pro Heroes handing a Villain over to the police. Normally this wouldn't really matter to me; articles like that are a dime a dozen, appearing everywhere from social media to gossip magazines. I could find more articles like that somewhere on the net.
What was interesting about this though was what the Villain wore.
Bracers, a spiked mask, and even looked to be a Kevlar bodysuit. Certainly doesn't look like it was scrapped together.
I click the link and read the article. A standard hostage situation: the Villain demanded money, and Best Jeanist came in and gave him the old one-two. And this was the interesting part:
He did it alone. No known associates or contacts, it just seemed like he wanted to get some quick Yen.
Which begged the question: where did he get the costume? Where do Villains get their costumes, period?
I keep staring at the image on my phone, and I can almost hear the gears in my own head whirring. Then I look at my phone itself and they seem to be reaching the speed of the train. What if…?
'A storm of thought rages in thy head, contractor. I take it thou'st found a solution?'
I barely hear my mentor as I struggle to keep the excited grin off my face. If my suspicions are correct…then hell yeah.
Once the train arrives at my station I book it towards my apartment. I quickly open the door, shut it behind and head straight to the one thing that could help me with this situation:
My computer.
I turn it on and begin rapidly typing and clicking.
'…I fail to see the relevance of this action.' I can hear the raised metaphysical eyebrow.
I let out a chuckle. 'Just sit back and watch, Mawla. We're going on a little trip down the rabbit hole that is the internet.'
Minutes pass as I click and browse through the net, opening and closing links to find my hidden prize. My teacher watches in silence, but there is no doubt that he is curious. I don't think he ever watched me play video games before, and what with him being…well, who he is, this must be very confusing.
'If thou shalt explain this to me, perhaps I may assist.'
The smile on my face widens. Time for a little course about the facts of life. 'Just like you've shared with me saying from your time, let me share with some of the modern ones. The first one is: Anything, and I mean anything, can be found on the internet. Perhaps the greatest invention since my delicious ice cream humans ever made. You see this?' I point to the screen, which now had a tab open to a site with a green background.
'This is what's known as a 'forum'. Basically, people from all over the world can come and talk here about whatever they like. There are millions of these things in one shape or form on the net. What I need to do is just find the one that can help me.'
So I look through various forums, all related to Support gear or Villain sightings. Most of what was being discussed was beyond me, but I knew enough to tell that I hadn't found what I was looking for yet. But still, I keep looking and looking through pages of chats until a picture draws my attention:
A selfie of a green-skinned man with a bandana around his jaw. A strange-looking mechanism was attached to his upper arm, connected via clear tubes to a similar-looking gauntlet which he held up to the camera. Under the photo were a caption and a hyperlink.
'Goin out to rek some bitchass Hs! Swag dud from tailors!'
…man, how am I not grinning like a lunatic right now? 'Second phrase; there is a sucker born every minute.'
I draw in a breath and click on the link…only to have a 404-error pop up. I sag and glare at the screen. Come on! I'm this close!
I pause and rub my chin in thought. Hmmm…perhaps…
I copy the link and download a TOR browser to the computer while activating a VPN I usually use for American streaming. Once it's downloaded, I click on it and enter the site of the forum. This time, a tab appears on the site that wasn't there before: "Special Forums."
I click on it and get directed to a login site with a symbol. It said that to enter I needed a passcode from someone already in the Special Forum. I let a small groan at the little setback, probably an anti-police measure but I nevertheless return to the site and look for anyone that might give me access. After some time, I find a recently active user with the same symbol as that on the login page. I decide to try my luck DM him for a passcode. He replies to me minutes later and - yay! - gives me a passcode, along with a warning saying that neither the mods nor the site would be accountable for anything that might happen. I was just happy to have access and typed in the code, opening the Forum.
'Now this is where things get interesting' I say with a sigh. 'This place where the forum is located is called the dark web, which can only be entered using browsers like TOR. A lot of shady business is done here and worse if even a quarter of the stories I read online are true. Some of the things here I think would make even the worst of those yakuza puke.'
'Ah, like a criminal's market?'
'Yep. A humongous criminal's market with no way of shutting it down. Trust me, no amount of assassination is gonna make this go away.'
'And the law enforcement cannot use this to track thee?' he asks.
'No, the TOR and the VPN hide my location. That's one of the main things about the internet; anonymity. People can do all of this without anyone knowing who they are.'
The Special Forum was more or less what I imagined a dark web site would look like; basic formatting, plain text, and minimalistic. There were a ton of sidebars with weird chatroom names like "Wild Game", which made me shudder. I scroll for a bit and don't really find anything, and then after a little more pondering I go back up and enter the link I copied into the search bar. I get one result.
I click on it and a new tab pops up. It's a site with similar aesthetics to the Special Forums page. On the top of the site were the words "Shadow Gear". The site was filled with images depicting all sorts of weird-looking costumes, a menacing quality to all of them. Body armor, masks, strange devices meant to no doubt work with Quirks. Under all of the images were review stars, and most of them had 3-5 stars along with a comment.
I rub my chin as I go over a good number of images. All of those looked very well made. And by the looks of it, the orders were custom-made. This…this was a good find.
I scroll to the top of the site and look at the 'Contact Owner' button. That will probably get me in touch with whoever was running this. Before I do so, I pause to ask Mawla's opinion.
'What do you think?'
I hear him hum for a bit, and then he answers. 'Thou art positive that thou cannot be tracked with this?'
I nod. "Positive. I hope to avoid using the dark web like this again, but I can't say for sure."
"…if thou feel this is the best decision forward, I shall not stop thee.'
I give a thumbs up and smile. "That's the spirit! Now once more unto the breach." I press the button and wait.
A minute later, a chatbox opens up in the corner. I quickly type in my message.
'Looking for a good outfit for a series of scores. Custom made. Will pay only in cash.'
For a moment, he waited, and then a reply came. The user was called "MsKr8D".
'How did you come by here?'
I raise an eyebrow. Odd way to treat potential customers, but what do I know? I type in my response.
'Recommended' then I attach the Villain selfie as a link.
A few moments passed by in silence, then a reply pops up.
'He was stupid to post it there. But that was a good piece of gear. You new to this?'
I type back. 'No. Did three scores, got a few mil off em. Want to do more but old duds got shredded.'
Thirty seconds, another reply. 'Will send you address and code. Come to the address and bring the code and cash with you anytime until next Wed. If you snitch, we will know.'
'See you soon, Ota.'
My breath quickens as a new text line shows up bearing an address and a five-digit code. I quickly snap a photo of it with my before closing all the tabs and shutting off the computer.
'Thou said that this could not be traced!' says Hassan angrily. I lean back on my chair and sigh, trying to refocus. That was close, really close.
'I guess I was wrong, or maybe they have good hackers. But so were they, this is Korusanto Ward. Ota Ward is the Ward down south of here. Guess that VPN threw them off. But if I'd have closed it only a minute later…' I shudder at the implication.
It was too horrible to think about.
'I hope then thou hast learned a lesson from this.'
'Yeah, next time do it in a public library or something. Or avoid doing it at all.' I open my phone and look at the time. Nearly six. I let out a deep breath, the tension in my body slowly fading.
"…I should get the homework done. And eat dinner with ice cream. Then I'm going to sleep."
'A wise choice. Thy mind is in turmoil. When dost thou plan to go to this location?'
I rub the chair's arms as I look up at the ceiling. Wow, I really am tired. All of that just from going into the dark web?
"…Tomorrow. After school. I don't wanna put this off any more than I have to."
Later that evening, as I finish my homework, my mother comes in from work. She brings with her some take-out yakitori, the good kind. I look at her, lying on the couch after the nice hot meal, and something overcomes me. I sit beside her and give her a hug. She makes a startled noise at first, but from the corner of my eye I see her smile and she wraps her arms around me.
"Something special happen today, kiddo?"
"…just tired."
And so, for the first time in a long while, I fall asleep in my mother's arms.
-x-
The next morning, I wake up in my futon to the unfortunate smell of coffee. Despite the events of last night, I slept easily. I dreamt of the Valley again, but this time Hassan wasn't there. The voices of the dead that spoke in tongues were silent. Only myself, the illuminated cliffs and the soft sands. Oddly peaceful.
"I'm gonna be home late tonight, Ritsu," she says as she sips her drink. "But good news: there's a bit of an ease on cases, so I'll be staying the whole weekend."
She smiles and I smile back. "That's good, Mom. Maybe we can finish The Silk Road together."
"I'd love to." She reaches out and ruffles my hair. "Good luck at school. If you have any trouble with studying for the exams, call me."
"What about your clients?"
My mother scoffs. "Screw them. I can spare a few minutes to help my son. Besides, they're paying me by the hour, so I can charge them more."
I blow a stray white lock from my face. "So you've revealed your true colors? Should I be expecting any fancy cars outside the building?"
She flashes me a humorous grin. "Maybe. And a butler for your birthday."
"That's great, take-out is kind of wearing on me. Food cooked by someone competent sounds like heaven."
"Cheeky brat" she mutters, her expression warm. She waves me goodbye and I head off.
Classes pass by in a blur. I robotically take notes and answer questions, even actually looking attentive in Makoto-sensei's class. But my mind is on the innocuous-looking address in my pictures folder. What should I expect? A rowdy place like the Nine Rings? A dank sewer filled with grime? A factory that also sells cookies-no, not that.
Stop it Ritsu, no use speculating. Just go there and find out. Maybe do a Maps search.
The end-of-day bell rings and I head to my hideout. Once I'm there, I load the gym bag with the cash-filled Ziploc, my 'work' hoodie with a quick deodorant spray, my gloves, the dagger plus a few knives - courtesy of former gang members – and of course, the mask. After packing, I return to the train station.
Hm. Looks like I'll have to fill my card soon. Hooray for bags of money.
After a lengthy train ride involving a few line changes, I arrive at the station. Just before I go out, however, I go to the bathroom for a quick change.
I didn't see any security cameras in there, so with luck, no one would see a teenager put on a hoodie and a weird mask, stuff a bag under said hoodie, and then vanish into thin air.
Under the guise of Concealment, I leave the station and take a look around. It was mainly a residential area like back home, and it didn't have the same air of creepiness that Turasku or Hosu had. A fairly innocuous-looking neighborhood. Though some of the buildings looked like in need of a paint job.
I follow the Map until I reach an old residence complex – a square surrounded by several tall apartment buildings. Judging by the lights and silhouettes from the many windows, it was not abandoned in the least. I enter through the gate of the building matching the address and look around the dirty lobby. Nothing out of the ordinary to the eyes. But what about the ears?
I activate my Quirk and sure enough, sounds of movement and talking come from one side of the lobby. I follow the noise until I reach a downwards staircase and descend it. Just before I go through the entrance at the bottom, I take a deep breath and turn off my Concealment. This place was starting to give me bad vibes, and I'd like to think that a guy appearing in the middle of…whatever this place was, seemed like an invitation for trouble. But before I go…
'Mawla, do you have any ideas for the outfit?'
I swear I see the shadows flicker. Please, this place is creepy enough.
'I have crafted a few suggestions. This…tailor, he crafts equipment as well, yes?'
'If the pictures are anything to go by, then yeah.'
'Hm. Let us meet him first. I wish to make a sounder judgment.'
So I step through the entrance and…am a bit taken aback.
An underground mall filled with booths and shops that didn't look like from this century. Neon signs and dirty lightbulbs illuminate the area, revealing the clouds of dust or smoke which flew by. Music of all kinds was blaring out of speakers. The patrons of this place seemed like something out of a crime show: one half looked like in dire need of a bath, wore ragged clothes and kept their heads down and the other: leather jackets, scarred arms and faces, quite a few cigarettes. Despite the grins and scary laughs, there was this constant tension in the air, like one wrong move and everyone would start rampaging.
A seedy underbelly in the most literal sense.
Judging by the looks of the ceiling, this mall matches the square above it. So no matter which way I choose I should find this MsKr8D sooner or later.
I begin walking through the mall with my head down and at a quick pace. As I do so, I eye the shops around me. Alcohol, tattoos, smokes and even a weapons shop or two. I spot some doorways like the one I came from. Probably leading to the other buildings. I see a tunnel filled with more shops extending forward. I soon encounter a stairway that leads to an open sitting area filled with similar people eating all sorts of foods. Fortunately, I ate before I came.
I wander some more, keeping an eye and an ear out for a clue. It's only after I enter the tunnel that I pause. Near what looked to be a large sewer gate was a shop with a mannequin dressed in body armor and an Oni mask in the display window. Above it was a sign with red letters.
Shadow Gear.
I grin in anticipation. 'Let's do this.'
A brisk jog later and I enter the store. A few more mannequins stand inside dressed in costumes like the ones on the site. Sitting behind a desk was a man in a two-piece suit and fedora that hid his eyes, reading a magazine. An odd getup to be sure, especially in a place like this.
I clear my throat and the man looks up.
"Is there something you need?" he asks, his tone crisp and neutral.
I pull out my phone and show him the code. "I was told I could come here for an outfit."
He shows no reaction to my altered voice. He simply peers at the screen and pulls out a notepad from his breast pocket. He flips through it until he stops at a page and looks back up at me, this time with a strange smile.
"Ah, yes," he says. "The Ota boy, is it? I presume you have the payment with you, no?"
"Are you MsKr8D?"
"Unimportant. Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Regardless, you are here to do business with us and we with you. The payment?"
I pat my breast and the sound of bills makes his smile grow slightly wider. "Splendid. If you would follow me, we can begin."
He gets up and goes behind a curtain and I follow him, my Quirk fully active. Behind the curtain is a door which he opens and we step through. The room inside is filled with shelves of cloth, crates and metal chests, all behind long tables with sewing equipment and other machines. It all looked very professional. As out of place as the guy before me in this dump.
The man pulls out two chairs and offers me one. I tilt it a bit, checking for any traps, and then sit.
"I take it then you are impressed by the facility?" he asks.
"It's not what I was expecting."
The man chuckles. "I admit, it possesses a little more class than anything you might have seen here. Our clientele is wide enough to afford workstations like this one."
Did that mean they catered to more than just Villains?
"We also appreciate you sharing the photo with us. Staying under the radar is paramount in our business and a photo in such a public forum was a potential leak."
"What did you do?"
His smile remained as wide as before. "Remove the leak."
I don't wanna know.
"Is there any chance someone could trace me through this?"
"We take great pride in our client confidentiality. Your order will be unmarked and kept with only a number. Once it is completed, the number is recycled."
"Good to know. One last thing, how good is your gear, like the one from that selfie?"
"With the proper payment, it will match those of some of the best Support Agencies," he says with pride. He pulls out a pen and a drawing block. "Shall we begin?"
And so time passes as the man and I flesh out my future outfit. I give him a description of what I want and he scribbles on the drawing pad. He tells me of the various materials that will be incorporated into the suit and offers me suggestions. Occasionally, Hassan offers a suggestion or asks a question and I voice it, with the man responding to everything. A few torn pages later, he shows me the final design and I let out a short whistle. It looked awesome. Really awesome.
"Love it."
"Excellent. Would you stand up, please? I need to take measurements."
I do as he says. He takes a tape measure from the table and takes the measurements, occasionally writing down in that drawing pad. Once he measures everything, he puts it away.
"I have just about everything I need. The last thing that remains is the cost. Considering the materials required and other expenses, it comes down to…" he types on a calculator. "550,000 yen."
"…really?"
"Yes," he replies, the corners of his lips tightening to a predatory grin. "Is there a problem? We do not take delayed payments."
I shake my head. "No, no problem." I pull out the Ziploc from under my hoodie. "I just need to make sure it's the right amount I'm giving you."
I hold in my laughter at the sight of his open smile. But he quickly recomposes himself and speaks in a much happier tone.
"Of course! We are also willing to throw in a spare suit with a twenty percent discount if you desire."
I raise an eyebrow. A spare suit did sound nice. "Twenty percent? Considering the price, I'd say it's worth forty."
He shakes his head. "We must retain a limit for discounts. I'm afraid it's our policy, considering the nature of our work."
"Hmm…I dunno…I haven't got much." I say as I rifle through the bag, slowly pulling out bills. I see his finger twitch.
Oh, money, thou art a bewitching temptress.
"But, since you are a tad more civilized than the rest of the types here, I am willing to give you an additional ten percent local discount."
Nearly a million yen…oh, what the heck, I can afford it. "Deal. But you get half the money now, the rest when everything's done."
"As you wish." I hand him a few rolls of bills and he counts them swiftly. "Can you also show me how to repair the suit myself?"
"I'm afraid that not everything in your order can be repaired by hand. I can provide you with instructions on the parts that can be once the order is done. But should you ever need our assistance with more complicated repairs, you are always welcome here or in our other locations."
"And where are those locations?"
He keeps smiling. "You seem like an intelligent man. I am sure you can find out yourself."
Ok, he's not that greedy.
"Now, I'm afraid there is a short waiting list, so your order will be ready by next week today. Come back here at that time with the rest of the payment."
"Will do. I look forward to it."
The man tipped his hat and gave a short bow. "I also look forward to seeing the end result. Have a nice day."
I take the unspoken request and head out the door, feeling giddy at the thought of my new outfit.
'Contractor, I believe I shalt have to give thee lessons on the art of haggling. Thy attempt was admirable, but even a Kahira peasant would be able to get more out of that deal.'
I wince. 'Yeah…but at least we got the suit.'
'True. I must admit I am curious to see how this new garment will aid thee.'
'If it's half as good as he said it would be, then yes, it will. Now let's get out of here and head –'
I pause. Something reaches my ear. Something very out of place.
Sniffling. A child's sniffling.
I look around the street, trying to find where is it coming from. It doesn't seem to be coming from any of the shops, and there's no children that I can see. I take a few steps forward and –
There it was again.
I turn right.
Again.
Sniffling. From the sewer gate.
I creep forward to take a look. Was someone hiding in there?
No, it was from deeper inside.
I take a quick side look and activate my Concealment. I pull out the dagger and aim at the bolt connecting the gate to the wall. I bring it down with a clang and the bolt breaks. Hefting the gym bag on my back and stuffing the money bag back inside it, I enter the pipe, close the door behind me and crawl forward.
I am very thankful that I have gloves and that the mask filters some of the odor because otherwise, I would've puked. My clothes are definitely going to need a nice long laundry cycle after this.
'Concealment can hide stench, right?'
'In most cases, it should. If thou wish to avoid smelling like a gutter rat, I suggest faster crawling. One at a time, left and right, as fast as thou can.'
Okay, Ritsu. You can do this. Left, right, left, right, left, right. Ignore the smell, follow the noise.
I keep crawling through the sewer until I hear yelling. There is a very weak reply, followed by more yelling and then a loud crack. The sniffling returns fainter, but it is there. I have a really bad feeling about this…
I soon see a light up ahead, revealing another sewer gate. The sniffling is now very strong to my ears. I reach the gate and stare out it, only to freeze in shock at the sight before me.
Blood. Blood on the floor. Blood on a wooden baseball bat. Blood leaking from the head of a little boy in a cage.
The world around me turns into a blur. I feel my eyes turn into dinner plates as a strangled sound escapes my lips. I hear Mawla talking but I don't respond. All I see is that little boy.
The sound of a slamming door is what makes me jerk in surprise. The man – no, the scum holding the bloody bat looked in surprise at the sight of another man entering the room. He looks at the child's body and grits his teeth.
"What the fuck did you do!?"
The scum looks back and forth between the bat and the man. "I-I, he was whining and w-wouldn't s-stop s-so I-"
"You killed the package that was supposed to be delivered tomorrow, that's what you did! This is an isolation cell, not a torture chamber!" The man grabs the scum by the collar and drags him so they were face-to-face. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get him? To get away from the cops and Heroes? To make sure no one would go looking for him? How much money is involved!?" He pulls out a gun and presses it to the scum's forehead. "Tell me why I shouldn't just blow your brains out and throw you in a gutter!"
The scum keeps stammering like he did nothing wrong. "I-I, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I-I can get you a new one!"
"Get me a new one?" The man draws a hissing breath. He looked this close to pulling the trigger and letting his brain splatter over the floor. "You had better get me a new one by tomorrow, or else I'll do worse than what you do did to the little brat! And you better hope it's me and not the boss!" He throws the man out the door. I see him look at the corpse not with pity or remorse, but annoyance. Annoyance.
"Ugh, this is gonna be one of those nights." He pulls out a phone and exits the room. "I'm gonna need cleanup here soon!"
My brain nearly short-circuits as what I just heard is processed at lightning speed. Package. A new one. Money. All of this adds up to something I only heard about on the net.
Human trafficking.
Child trafficking.
I have stumbled upon a child trafficking ring.
And a little boy, stolen from somewhere, was locked in a cage and beat like a dog until he died.
The peripherals of my vision flash blue and black. The dagger ends up in my hand with barely a thought. I raise my arm to cut open the sewer gate and kill every last piece of trash in this –
'CONTRACTOR!'
I freeze at the sound of Hassan's booming voice, which I hear him raise for the first time.
'I understand thy rage, but thou need to leave this place this instant.'
The scream nearly bursts from my gut. 'WHAT!? Mawla, you saw what the scum did! You see the corpse right now! Who knows what they are doing right now and if there are others! If I act now, I can maybe –'
'And that kasafat is on his way to inflict similar misery unto another right now! I know the anger thou feel, and I swear on Allah the evening bell will toll on these pieces of filth, but thou can prevent another death if thou give swift chase!'
I want to scream at him. To yell that this was a waste of time and I should kill them now. To cry out at the sight of a child I was too late to save.
But as always, Hassan was right. Yes…I could still stop that scum. And when I do, I will make it slow and painful.
I reach out to the other side of the gate and cut open the bolt. I hear someone approaching, but I pay no heed as I dash outside and through a hallway in the direction I saw the scum running in. I soon reach the exit and am greeted by the evening sky. I quickly make note of where I am, a block away from the Villain market, and look up and down the streets for a sign. Damn it, he's gone!
'Do not let anger blind thee, contractor. Use it to hone thyself, hone thy senses.'
I take a few deep breaths and slightly calm down. I activate my Quirk to its fullest range. I take a turn and run down the street. Come on, come on, where are you, you piece of –
Blubbering and grumbling, along with 'stupid brat'. Got you.
I dash forward, always keeping track of his disgusting voice. I take a few turns for a shortcut when I hear him start to pant and grow fainter. He must be running. Guess he doesn't want to miss the package.
I try to pick up the pace. I run between alleyways. I jump over trash cans and fences. I pay little attention as I move. Just like in class, my body is on autopilot. I don't lose sight of him – through my Quirk, that is.
How is he running so fast though?
I keep moving towards him when I hear him slow down. I cross the last road and realize I am near a river, one of Tokyo's many. Did he fall over and trip into a ditch?
I hear him again, moving slower this time. I regain my breath and run towards his direction. I see a bridge in the distance. He's right there on the sidewalk on the riverbank. There's something growing out of his shoes like skates. He's starting to raise his bat high over someone.
I snarl and summon the dagger again. My sight narrows as I raise my arm to throw my weapon and impale him right in the head.
I never get the chance.
Because just before I could act, he suddenly freezes up and lets out a gurgling sound. He takes a step back, clutching his throat. He tries to heave himself forward, but then something strikes him again and he starts to fall down, the bat falling from his hands.
I dash over to check the body and make sure that he is dead, but I stop dead in my tracks at what I see.
A snow-white kimono held by a blue obi. Black hair cropped just above the shoulders, the bangs hiding her face. A knife dripping with the blood of the scum I'd been chasing.
She is looking down at the corpse, but she doesn't panic. She doesn't tremble. Her presence is…impassive. Quiet.
I remain rooted to the spot as she keeps looking at the body. She gently fiddles with the knife, making the blood on it and on her long sleeve drip to the ground.
I'm not bothered by the sight. She defended herself from the scum that had so cruelly killed an innocent child. In some ways, this was an even better death.
But there's something…something I just can't describe, or put into proper words. Is it the lack of reaction? Is it just the events of the evening leaking into my psyche and messing with it?
Or maybe…because it was so familiar? Did I look like that when I took my first life?
I wet my lips. This was…this is getting to me. I should head home. I take a step back and –
And the girl looks up.
Her eyes. Black eyes.
They are not inhuman, like the yakuza I hunt. I can briefly see the emotions warring within them, but there is a unity to it.
An empty whole.
Her eyes ever-so-slightly widen.
A little shift of the wind. The kimono gently ruffles with the breeze. Her presence, her aura, becomes more…ghostly. Ethereal. Maybe she is a spirit? An onryo of victims past, like the child I saw die?
No, she is alive. I can hear her breath. The ground crunching under her wooden getas.
She smiles. It is a gentle smile, serene even.
"Hello."
What the-
She can see me?
My Concealment should still be active. Did I turn it off somehow?
Or is she seeing through it?
I freeze up. I am in very big danger of overloading.
She keeps smiling and speaks again. "I am sorry if this disturbs you."
Her voice is also strange. It is soft but there are hints of hardness to it.
My lips move on their own. "I-It's fine. You did what you had to."
She tilts her head at me, inspecting me like I'm a statue in a museum. She then turns to look at the river.
"You should go. I'll be fine."
Thanks for the invitation. I am very much in favor of leaving.
She starts to walk away before shooting me one last glance. "You are strange. Different. I hope to see you again."
And then she leaves, heading towards the bridge.
I remain stuck there for a few minutes, in front of the corpse before finally, finally regaining control of myself and dashing back in the direction of the train station. I don't stop until I reach the street where it's located. I duck into an empty alley, make absolutely sure that my Concealment is active…and begin to puke.
God, everything is hitting me all at once. My throat is parched. I feel light-headed and about to keel over. No, no, I can't. Not here, I've gotta get home. Mom isn't back yet so I should still be able to –
A flash of blue. I jerk up and find myself in the Valley, Hassan standing before me.
"Calm thyself, contractor. Take deep breaths and allow my sanctuary to soothe thy fraying nerves."
I close my eyes and begin to inhale and exhale, allowing the air/not-air of the place to cleanse my lungs. In and out. In and out.
I feel the tension on myself slowly receding. My shoulders sag and my muscles slacken.
I open my eyes and look at the wraith. I give him a short bow.
"Thank you, Mawla."
He shakes his head. "Think nothing of it, my young contractor. Art thou ready to talk now? Worry not for thy body, it is safe and Concealed."
I nod. "Well…how did that girl see me?"
The founder of the Assassins stays silent for a moment before answering. "I am unsure. Thy mental state was in great unrest. It is possible thou have dropped thy Concealment without realizing it. But thou felt a strangeness when she gazed upon thee, did you not?"
"Yeah, but I don't really know how to describe it." I say as I rub my arm. "Maybe it's a Quirk?"
"Mayhap. The powers man possesses in this age are unknown to me. In this regard, thou art more knowledgeable. But thy Concealment is no mere camouflage; it is the Valley itself cloaking thee with its essence. At greater control, it is undetectable by all mortal means. It is possible she may have glimpsed another sign that thou were present."
He waves his hand. "Regardless, that is a secondary concern. We have a more pressing matter."
I bite my lip and look down at the sand. I still see it, flashing before me. That cage. The blood.
"The pain thou feel is tremendous, I sensed it ringing through this Valley. But do not let thy despair consume thee, contractor mine. That child's jahn is with Allah now, and there is nothing to be done about it. Instead, focus on the present and what thou can do now to prevent the next atrocity."
My eyes narrow again. My fist clenches so hard it feels like it could draw blood.
"We know where they are. We know how to get it in. So I'll plan. I'll look. I'll listen. The man earlier said he had a boss. I'll find him and when I do…"
The air around me flashes red.
"…I'll make sure he hears the bell loud and clear."
-x-
Ritsu Ogawa (Assassin - Hassan-i Sabbah)
Stats: Too human to be measured.
Skills:
Presence Concealment D+: The ability to hide from others. A poor level for any Assassin, but 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 D: 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 vanish.
Quirk - Super-Hearing C: A power gained as a result of evolution. Allows the user to hear precise details within a certain range. Can extend the range in exchange for loss of detail. Also alerts the user of incoming danger provided they can react to it.
Noble Phantasm: ?
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Darkscythe_Drake
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