Capítulo 5: 5

Kenzo swiftly ushered her indoors, halting any potential disturbance. Puzzled by her sudden appearance and shape-shifting abilities, he dreaded the unwanted attention she'd brought to his doorstep.

"What are you doing here?" Kenzo questioned, maintaining calm despite the inconvenience.

"It only makes sense I stay with you if you're going to protect me," the demon blurted.

While her logic struck a chord, Kenzo pondered the potential mess this unfamiliar individual might bring.

"You do have a point," Kenzo conceded.

"I'm glad you see reason," Beelithina replied, but Kenzo couldn't fathom why he felt no attraction, despite her seemingly perfect form.

"I see, that makes sense," Kenzo involuntarily revealed, leaving Beelithina puzzled.

"You're a Succubus and can shape-shift based on male fantasies... That's why you can change your face and body at will," Kenzo pointed out.

"But why am I not attracted to you despite..." Kenzo briefly paused, and in that moment, Beelithina sensed his unspoken desire.

"You felt it, didn't you? That insatiable lust that engulfs your entire body like a typhoon," Beelithina inquired with a smile, drawing closer to the human.

Kenzo stood his ground, not flinching or retreating, eliciting a smile from Beelithina as she anticipated the question he wished to ask.

"That's not what you want to know. You're curious about why you aren't drawn to me or if this extends to other women, isn't it?" Beelithina questioned.

"That's exactly it, would it be the same with others?" Kenzo asked outright.

"Where's the fun in just telling you?" Beelithina responded, but Kenzo, uninterested in persuasion, opted to cut his losses.

"Alright, I'll be going. Stay indoors and watch out for the neighbor across the street; they're nosy," Kenzo warned before heading out. He had a meeting to attend but the mask that had shattered wasn't the only mask he had.

Kenzo understood the demands of his job, equipped with carefully crafted plans for emergencies like the one at hand. Beelithina, curious about his persistent mask, wasn't keen on delving into the details of his work. While demons had yet to invade this realm, granting her a moment of relief, she held back the full tale of why she was pursued, choosing not to disclose the complete story to Kenzo.

Kenzo entered the bar, his distinctive Oni mask causing an instant hush. The men inside, much like him, were skilled, but they operated independently, handling less prestigious tasks. This spot was Kenzo's go-to due to an exclusive underground tunnel accessible only to elites.

While the bar served as a façade, Kenzo strategically chose a chair near the entrance. Despite his cautious nature, he disliked the attention; sitting with his back to the bar was a calculated move, yet the prying eyes annoyed him.

Kenzo was aware that to these guys, his reputation seemed almost mythical. Fortunately, nobody had been foolish enough to stir trouble, something he appreciated because he wouldn't hesitate to demonstrate why he was feared.

However, there's always a first time, and a man now occupied the space across from Kenzo.

Though annoyed by the invasion into his personal space, it wasn't significant enough to provoke conflict.

"I've heard about you," the man, with a missing left eye and tattoos on his face, stated. His muscular physique suggested a lifelong dedication to weightlifting. Kenzo, unresponsive, gave no indication of recognition.

"I'm talking to you!" the man barked, prompting Kenzo to sigh in annoyance.

"Here's your drink," the waiter said, but before Kenzo could grasp it, the man snatched it ahead of him. All eyes were on Kenzo, anticipating his response to this blatant disrespect.

"What is this shit?" the man barked, a stranger to Kenzo, implying he was new around here, likely having faced a rough life judging by his appearance. This disrupted Kenzo's daily routine which he wasn't a fan of.

"You're finally here..." Kenzo muttered, leaving the man wondering.

"Who the fuck are you?" questioned a voice behind the man bothering Kenzo.

Unfazed, the man that was causing a ruckus turned around to the would be nuisance but, upon meeting this person's eyes, his voice vanished.

Something about those eyes felt empty, like peering into an abyss of tormented souls.

Facing him was a figure nearly as renowned as Kenzo, with one critical distinction—his notorious short temper which limited his job opportunities.

Noticing the stranger sipping from his drink, Kenzo, aware it wasn't meant for him, muttere to himself.

"Here we go again..."

Shifting his chair back in anticipation, he observed the man's sentence cut short as his colleague swiftly silenced him by slicing open his throat. Seated just beyond the blood splatter, Kenzo, unfazed, remarked,

"You're late, Endo."

Endo was in his mid-twenties, clad in a sleeveless black shirt and cargo shorts sat across him. He had brown silky hair styled in a ponytail with his dull green eye, giving more focus to his eye bags.

He wasn't nearly as handsome as Kenzo but he wasn't not-attractive, measuring a height of 5' 10.

No one batted an eye and the just carried on with what they were doing.

This fate was inevitable for the man.

"Getting here was a struggle," Endo admitted. "You got lost again, didn't you?" Kenzo questioned, but Endo remained elusive, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.

"I'm curious about that mask. Wouldn't it be easier for me to trust you if you revealed your face?" Endo suggested.

"You're aware it's foolish to trust anyine in this line of work. If a job surfaces today calling for your demise, I won't hesitate to end your life," Kenzo emphasized, a stark reminder that friendship wasn't part of their dynamic. Oddly, it brought a smile to Endo's face.

"Having you end me would be the greatest honor of my life," Endo replied, his tone appreciative. Just then, a signal from one of the waitresses behind the bar caught their attention; it was time. The meeting was imminent, and attendance was compulsory; it marked their first encounter with the head of the death squad.

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