HEATED RIVALRY ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 𝐁𝐋

EIGHT.

"Because that aunt who always likes to boast was there," you complained. "I don't like her."

"Well, er, valid." Your father paused. "But that's besides the point. I don't know why I mentioned that. The main thing is that the minister has a son."

"Huh. A son." You repeated. "Oh. Is this one of the seduction missions? You want me to seduce a—a...a guy?"

"Not like I would mind if you liked men, but well, no. Just accompany him, be his friend. For the record, just where did you ever coin the phrase seduction missions? I don't recall ever telling you that..."

"Don't know. I can't really recall..."

"[Name]..." Your father's tone was fondly exasperated.

"Sorry, sorry!" You looked innocently at him. "By the way, my leg kinda hurts. Can you check it out for me?"

Your father checked your leg, frowning.

"Ooh. Looks like a rough bite. What did you do?"

"Swimming with piranhas."

"We can cook some for dinner," your father suggested. "How about that?"

"Anything is fine with me."

"Anyways, my job is to protect the client, and his wife and son. And in the event things go wrong—the son will at least have to emotionally support him. And when I say in the event things go wrong, I'm referring to the fact that it's possible that his father, the minister or his wife will die."

"Tough. You never failed a mission though, did you?"

"I can't be too arrogant," your father thought it over, "well, yeah. I never lost a mission, buddy. "

"So I'm a backup plan in case the son goes wild," you scowled, "I want money for it."

"I'll pay you too."

You brightened up.

"You'll pay me too?"

"Yes, yes...I can't believe you're already haggling."

"Mother taught me," you said slyly, "though I don't know if it counts because she usually adds threats. The last time some older guy stole something from me—he must have thought it was a fake gun, not a real one—she went ahead and smashed his head with a watermelon. He thought his brains were blown out and fainted."

Your father smiled. "Your mother had always been something, hasn't she?"

"Now you're being sappy. I'm going to befriend that guy right now. What's his name?"

"Inei," your father grinned, "his name is Inei."

.

.

"Hey," you smiled at a boy who seemed to be around the age of you—eleven, was it? Twelve? You don't quite know. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

You looked curiously at him, he really was doing nothing. He was simply lying on the ground, gazing meaninglessly at the ceiling, his eyes blank and empty. It wasn't like they were cold, per se, but they were certainly devoid of life. Inei, was it? He had the prettiness of his mother—as your father had showed you the picture—a famous starlet in some movie—coal black eyes that were empty in a doll-like way, a high nose bridge that was perfectly slanted, and a clear, porcelain complexion. Frankly put, he would grow up to be a beautiful male.