Red Lady Cigarettes

Chapter 2: A Taste of Time

After that long night, she woke up way too early. Her eyes fixated on the dimmed light above. Asking herself if she was just grieving over Tenko's death. Deep down she knew it wasn't grievance at all, Ganga was right when he said Tenko treated her like filth. Giving lists after lists of people to wipe off of the face of the earth. Relentlessly painting her hands with the blood of people each passing night. There was no reward for these killings by the end but money. So Shinkiro showered herself with material things. Even after that, she never felt relieved.

Stepping out to the balcony of her apartment, the lady got up to find a start to her independence. The city looked peaceful, the sun hasn't fully revealed itself from the clouds, and so everything was hued in a cold blue. Leaning over the glass railings, letting silk dark hair be swayed by the morning breeze, remembering fractions of what she wanted to do when Tenko's plans had concluded.

Shinkiro wanted to know what happened to her father.

Where would this begin?

Her father died in prison, for reasons still unknown. Tenko rarely mentioned her dead husband, barely even spoke out his name. Shinkiro knew it, her father was Kenji Kumori. A shareholder of Iona Industries, along with his three other siblings. She started to fill out the spaces in her mind with what she currently has.

Otakemaru, an organisation that facilitates assassins has not notified being revoked from the assassination job. Now that Tenko's gone, all of the remaining percentage of the paid assassinations are all going into an account only the two of them can access. For a matter of precaution, she did not retire from Otakemaru's provisions, after all, it was the safest path to take to preserve anonymity. Otakemaru does not operate and require close contacts with the assassins they hire, so they would never have to worry about being seen. Everything is paid through cryptocurrency, the people that contacts Otakemaru hiring a hitman will not know who will do the job. One thing is for sure, whatever the job is, it will be done in a 90% guarantee. And all of the parties' identities are preserved into being anonymous.

As days passed, research about her father's death remained fruitless. This catalyzed anger to resonate into actions. While the plans halted, she poured feelings into the craft of violence and accepted all Otakemaru's offers she could. For months, Shinkiro remained stuck in a bender of wiping out entire gangs, looking for any sensation of contentment with the lives taken but all the bloodshed gave not an ounce of satisfaction. Was Ganga right? She kept asking herself. That she couldn't do anything on her own without serving anybody? The smell of tobacco, blood, and fecal matter didn't bother anymore as Shinkiro stood right above the pile of dead bodies beneath. Even this magnitude of it couldn't shake the lingering thought Ganga's words engraved in the back of her mind.

"You were raised to serve, you can fill the gaps with money, luxury, liquor, and power. But you'll never feel whole."

All this lady could do was spite it, Shinkiro can be in denial as much as she wanted, but she was slowly realising the anguish. It's that part of her that never puts her fists down to give up, but the truth is that she understood that what he said was true. But she still insists and refuses to accept it, soon enough her breath began to fall short and felt another presence in the room. It's faint, quiet, but looming. Before Shinkiro could conceal herself and hide, a blade quickly struck through her gut. The sting of the blade and its friction against flesh caused her to lose balance before holding up a hand to pull a gun, the attempt to counter attack failed and her wrist was caught before she could proceed to get something out of the crimson haze.

"Unpleasant evening isn't it?" The voice greeted in a low cadence before continuing in a similar delivery. "In ten minutes you will start to lose blood, if nobody comes to your rescue which is probable, this is the night you die."

"Come on, you can do better. Twist the blade"

"I promise it's enough to let you stay awake for a compromise." As she lost blood, weakened knees began to collapse followed by her sight blurring in a tint of red. Shinkiro tried her best to recognize the man, but it was too dark to see anything. She didn't respond, and so he continued to speak. "I can undo what I did, but I have some requests in exchange for your life. I don't have much time, so I won't be explaining everything in detail. Your father was my mentor. He took something from my family, familial records to be exact, and I need those. I need your help to get the records. You have nine minutes to decide, I cannot undo these damages after nine minutes from now."

Knowing that she's too weak to fight, the man pulled the blade out and let her fall on the floor before squatting down to wait for the response. Shinkiro returned nothing but silence, contemplating if she should just take this liberty of finally dying, or giving in to serve another person so that a part of her could feel whole with a new purpose.

Although, she promised herself not to bend on anyone's will. "... This isn't a compromise if you're the only one... Getting shit." She spat, gripping the would, desperately putting pressure to stop and lessen the bleeding.

"Give me your word and this will end in a second."

Shinkiro laughed at him, Touza visibly seeing her teeth tinted red caused by the lung puncture inducing the respiratory tract to fail, pumping more blood out of her mouth. "You think you can scare me? I... Want to know why he died... Give me your word that you'll help me know before I agree to your terms." For God's sake, Touza thought. His eyes narrowed, irked by this unhelpful perseverance. "You have two minutes." The man warned in a threatening tone, deliberately putting more pressure into his words pinning every rational decision to what he offers. The lady wasn't shaken, and challenged the man instead. "Good... You and I have two minutes.. before you waste your chance on getting your familial record."

Her smile was convulsing and insulting at the same time. No one in his whole experience of manipulation he had seen someone gamble with their own life and smile wide as if she was already victorious. He didn't expect himself to be put on the spot, but Shinkiro managed to turn the tables and the clock was ticking against the both of them now. He couldn't help but give her a silent appraisal to taking control over the situation he was sure he has the advantage to.

"Granted." He said holding out his hand. Her bloodied palms reach over to his and an agreement was set. Before the time hit the mark, and their hands could motion for a proper shake, the man whispered a quite unintelligible word before everything restored back to the way she was. Her mind bounced in reverb, ears heard the thin air bloat, and lungs deflated before filling up again in one big gasp. The pain was gone, like she was woken up from a fever dream of drowning by being pulled of off with a strong force.

Shinkiro stood up and felt her gut, intact and unscathed. Her vision was clear, finally her pupils expanded to see his face. At first glance he reminded Shinkiro of her father, but his hair wasn't ending in curls and his eyes were jet black instead of having hues of teal and icy blue.

"Kousetsu Touza." He introduced himself properly, sheathing the black bladed katana on his side.

Finally, she has a clue on where to start.

"Yeah? Fuck you."