“There are always certain taboos, even among criminals. Because without it they would be lost in a sea of self-resentment and guilt. Most of them, anyways. But those taboos depend entirely upon the person.
So don’t start feeling safe thinking the burgler will have a sense of honour and won’t kill you. His honour may depend on whether to mutilate your body or not after killing you.”
– Nina Freier, an international thief.
***
“Your receptionist is gonna scare all your clients away with that face. He looks better suited with the Yakuza.” Nina Freier mentions offhandedly, sauntering into the small office of Ichiouji Investigations as the door slams shut behind her.
Behind a large black desk, a young man named Shou Ichiouji sits, as indicated by the glass nameplate on the desk, his face obscured by the large computer screen in front of him. Behind him, the afternoon sun spills through the blinds of the wall encompassing windows, painting the crown of his usual matte black hair a shiny dark chocolate. In terms of décor, several framed black and white photos adorn the otherwise plain white walls. The colourful content of his desk and the royal blue settee situation in front of his desk are the only hint of colour in the otherwise black and white office.
“That’s because he is part of the Yakuza.” he mumbles distracted, his gaze glued to the screen in front of him as his fingers flit across the keyboard typing in long white codes into black boxes.
She glances towards him, surprised, “Oh? So why is he here tapping people down and searching bags for weapons when he should be doing whatever it is yakuza people do with their time? Don’t tell me our little Shou-chan has joined the Yakuza now. You’ve fallen too far.” Nina tsks in mock-disappointment as she majestically sprawls herself across the sofa as though she owns the place. She continues, “Before you answer though, get me an Eiskaffee.”
Still staring at the computer screen, he presses the speaker and hash button simultaneously on the office telephone with one hand, while his other hand continues to type sequences of letters and numbers onto the keyboard. He orders in a distracted tone, “Honda-san – iced tea – client – wants.”
“It's iced coffee not tea!" he hears Nina's voice remark.
“Iced coffee then.”
Shou lets go of the speaker button and re-immerses himself into his work, with the fingers of both hands flying across the keyboard at 120 km/h. Or so it seems from Nina’s point of view. Her left eye twitches in anger.
“Stop prioritizing that junk over me! Do you not see me here? Did I not just ask you something?” Being ignored isn't the best feeling. And Nina only condones it when she's on a job, so when her favourite (and only) little student ignores her for some piece of plastic combined with metal (meaning computer), her temper flares somewhat.
She does try to be a little understanding however, since she knows how Shou can get when he's immersed into the world of computers. A world she herself doesn't understand in the least, but she understands that what stealing is for her, computers are for him. As self-absorbed as she may be, she can respect that sort of thing.
Sighing, Shou presses the ‘enter’ button twice and minimizes the window. He turns his attention to the supposed ‘client’ who he finds sprawled across the sofa, her long legs hanging off on one side, revealing more of her tanned legs beneath the skirt of her floral dress than he wishes to see. No, that’s not right; he doesn’t mind the view, really, but knows too well of the repercussions if he’s caught staring.
“Right, where were we? Why Honda-san is part of the Yakuza?” he asks politely, adjusting his rectangular half-framed glasses.
“No. I’m asking why a guy pledged to the Yakuza is working for you.”
YOU ARE READING
Running into her
General Fiction"I just want to see if this will teach me how to feel again. And since you seem to want to die anyhow, will you please let me kill you?” Dubbed as the Walking Disaster Magnet, Leonara Rhinehart, the Rhinehart conglomerate's sole heir, only goes to T...
