#para: multi.

[lady-incisor]

@military-shop-untouchable :

VHS camcorders were probably obsolete by now, but back in the days when people were still young and had dreams, this was the prized machine of the tech-savvy. Iwai found it at the back of the closet when clearing out old junk -along with it, a dozen tapes labelled with frightfully scrawly dates written in crayola. He had grabbed a fresh one, popped it in, and proceeded to locate his guest/unpaid labour.

Kikuchi had her back to him, so he tip-toed comically towards her, trying to keep the camera still at the same time. With home videos one couldn’t go past irritating amateur narration, of course -and so he announced, “13:35, 12th of June 2017, weather, cloudy with a chance of rain… I have located a prime specimen of resting bitch face, kindly sacrificing its nanna nap time to assist an undeserving friend with cleaning, oh, watch out, it turns!”

A mound of faded and loved stuffed animals stared up at her from inside of a plastic bin. Kikuchi held the dusty top and softly, almost mindlessly, set it back on the floor. Iwai had tasked her with organizing a nearly forgotten closet in their at-home office. It was a crowded room, but cozy nonetheless. Her grip wrapped around the soft, plush body of a red dinosaur with stubby little arms. Its mouth, filled with white felt fangs, was open in a ferocious roar. However, its stuffed features made it look more adorable than terrifying.

These were Kaoru’s. From some point in his life, anyway.

Kikuchi rose from the floor, but stayed in her spot. She ran her fingers over loose threads and noted a subtly sweet smell. A weird sense of familiarity and gloom settled into her gaze as she inspected the red dinosaur. However, she was too wrapped up to hear the soft footsteps coming from behind her.

Iwai’s voice startled her, and she wheeled around to kick him in the waist instinctively. Even though Kikuchi looked more put out than usual, there was a glint of anger.

[lady-incisor]

@warherc

The bar was filled with dimmed lamps and dark corners.

It rested in the seedier parts of Tokyo, near Shinjuku’s Kabukicho, and thus had been a popular destination for prurient tourists. It wasn’t too crowded tonight, but the smell of alcohol and cigarettes was heady.

A dark-haired woman followed a lanky, tow-headed man through the open door, towards the row of stools at the front. He had introduced himself as Billy Sullivan earlier that night. She never gave him her name. Not that he noticed.

The woman glanced towards the other patrons and paused as if something captured her attention: there was someone lurking in a shadowy corner. Tourists usually turned heads, but this man looked especially interesting. A black patch covered his left eye and his hair was cut at the end of his neck. His prominent jaw and faint stubble only accentuated his strong features. She looked away and sat next to Sullivan, who was unaware of this strange man’s presence.

“Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?” She murmured coyly. Since her legs were crossed and her skirt was short, Sullivan immediately got the bartender’s attention. She then stared at him with the predatory intent of a creeping lioness.

Sullivan wanted to get lucky.

She was getting paid to slit his throat.

The woman nearly cringed as she sipped at her drink. It was too sugary. At least it was free. Slowly, she turned her gelid gaze towards the stranger in the corner. He looked sour, but there was a sense of danger beneath his expression. 

It was shaping up to be an interesting night. 

[lady-incisor]

“No wonder people think we’re a couple, we eat pizza naked together.”

@military-shop-untouchable:

Iwai reached over to turn down the music, doing a thing with his eyebrows to indicate that he thought he hadn’t quite heard her properly. A paperback crimefiction with ratty corners was laid open and face down on top of a cardboard box labelled #A1578M. He had long forgotten what the numbers stood for. Kikuchi sat cross-legged on a spare stool, heels dangling from a stockinged foot. Iwai extended a leg to nudge at her calf until the shoe came tumbling off.

“And who’re these people?” he asked, chortling. “I’m not doing that again, though. At least not with hot food.”

It had been fun, but dropping hot cheese on bare thighs wasn’t so nice.

A Borchardt C-93 rested in his now idle hands, gleaming after a thorough touch up. Iwai set it back onto the display stand to dry and cleaned the grime off his hands.

“Hey, d’you want to have a go at cleaning the next one?”

"What next? Sushi?” The woman held off on suggesting ice cream; the thought was unattractive enough.

Her voice echoed the hollow thump on the floor that the bright, cherry-red heels made once they landed. Pale skin was veiled by thin silk that spidered up her legs and disappeared into the hem of a thin, knit miniskirt. Kikuchi watched Munehisa Iwai work, her usual gelid gaze intact. His fingers were smudged with oil, a thick blackness filling exposed creases. The scent was mechanical - one that she often smelled in this space, albeit weaker.

At the invitation, she slipped off of the cushioned stool. The floor felt cool and smooth as she soundlessly made her way towards him. His nearness was warm, and smelled faintly of oil and smoke. Kikuchi picked another gun. It was a simple revolver, without the long nose that Iwai previously handled - a quick scrawl on a torn piece of paper indicated it was a Ruger GP100. 

“As long as you show me how,” she said. The process looked simple enough; Kikuchi reached for the plastic bottle, which was rendered illegible from mucky layers of fingerprints, but looked towards Iwai for a go-ahead.

[lady-incisor]

Dial F for Fun

@surfin-snake

The reflection of light across the screen shone dully on her dark eyes as the night slowly trod on. It was late - enough for the distant sounds of Shimokitazawa proper to nearly cease. The dim light from the computer screen was the only light source inside of her room. A stagnant, almost sickly-looking yellow light from a street lamp was weak against her wall; otherwise, nothing filled the dark corners of the room. Jitsuko Kikuchi grew increasingly bored.

A strange restlessness had settled over her for the past few days. At first, she attributed it to the lack of exciting targets, but perhaps something else was at play. Kikuchi tried to push that thought from her mind.

Before she could mingle with her thoughts, a perfect distraction presented itself: a message. Quickly, she ran a finger over the mouse-pad and clicked. Once she read their screen name, some excitement welled in her stomach. It was usually a short-lived feeling, but it did not let go as she read the body of text.

Here’s the number to my room. Emergencies only.

The assassin licked her lips and swallowed hard. Her brows knit at her initial reaction, but she suddenly made a move for the purse at the edge of her futon. Kikuchi fumbled for her phone in the dark, her hands sweeping over other objects before she felt and grabbed it. It still had power, and a good amount. She eyed the end of the message again.

Emergencies only.

A few moments passed before she rolled her eyes, annoyed at how worked up she was. There was a tentative whisper at the back of her mind. Maybe it shouldn’t bother you so much. Kikuchi shrugged it off and hurriedly pressed the numbers with her thumbs. As the dial began to sound, the woman put the phone to her ear. Everything around her came to a stop.