Cicatrize

23

God, is everyone out to piss you off today? Do you really need to punt someone to the ground to teach them that they should mind their damn business? You can already feel your non-existent patience dwindling, falling in the negatives by now.

Just when you were about to give in to your desires of bringing mischief and mayhem to their entire existence, you stop when the door to Atsuhiro's office opens and the said man walks out, fully clad in a trench coat and a balaclava. You could still see his eyes through the balaclava, and he certainly didn't seem that pleased to see those three dudes ganging up on poor little you.

Oh... So it's theory number 2? He still thinks you're a little lost girl. You're both amazed and appalled by his stupidity. Do both Touya and him share the same brain cell?

You wouldn't be surprised if they did.

"What are you guys doing?" He spoke, his voice dripping with authority. You would have been spooked if only you didn't have a history for facing off an authoritative psychopath.

"Sako-san! What brings you here–"

"That's not what I asked, now did I?"

Ah, so he really wasn't lying when he said that he had a lot of authority. You have to admit, seeing those three quiver in their boots was a satisfying sight. He continued to stare down at them for another good minute before he finally heaved a sigh and closed his eyes.

Atsuhiro waited for a few more minutes before he reopened his eyes and shifted his gaze towards you, "What brings you here, [Name]?" You didn't fail to notice the tiredness from his voice.

"I needed to ask some questions in regards to that task you gave us." He nodded at your concern before motioning you to come inside his office and gave one last look to the three men before he finally closed the door.

Once behind the closed door, he heaved another sigh as he turned to you, a weary smile on his thin lips, "So, what questions does the little lady need to ask?"

He questioned as he walked over to the maroon sofas resting in his office. Although it looked more like a resting lounge than an office, but you figured that you really didn't give enough shits to care. The brunette sat down on one of the sofas and picked up a tea cup, stirring his sugar in.

Your eyes followed his figure through the room until they finally settled on him when he sat down on the couch. Unlike him, you didn't bother sitting down or asking to sit down either.

"For starters, that guy you need information on. What's his name?" He looked at you in confusion as he tapped the spoon against the rim of his tea cup, "Huh? Didn't I tell you? It's Giran."

Your eyes twitched in annoyance over how nonchalant and vague he was, "Giran what? Does he not have a last name?"

Sighing wistfully, the brunette closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, "That's what he goes by in the underground. His real name is something you're supposed to find–"

"Then, does he have a family? What kind of business is he involved in? Why do you need information on him? By information, can you be a bit more specific? Do you want to know his favorite color or how many people has he killed–"

You stopped when the man in front of you looked almost shocked. He had his mouth open before he quickly closed it and cleared his throat, only to mutter to himself under his breath.

"Honestly, no matter how many times I see her do that, it still freaks me out." You sweat dropped, not having the heart to tell him that you could still hear him. Thankfully, he didn't waste anymore time on that and proceeded with the questions you had asked, "Right... Information, information... I need anything and everything you can find. It doesn't matter if it's his favorite color or how many people he's murdered, all information is useful one way or another, my dear."