I was alone, my back to the two mattresses I placed on the wall separating the bedroom and the bathroom. The room, even though almost identical to my own, felt strange with the mirror I placed on my right, letting me see the open doorway behind.
I tried to dust off the white dust on my clothes but it was in vain.
So I looked through the balcony, at the black clouds showing specks of strange vibrant colors. Yellow and gray sometimes peered through the darkened sky.
It was mesmerizing.
I realized I could be waiting for a while, so I pulled a chair and sat on it.
The clock on the opposite bedside table showed me I had managed to organise my friend's old room in only half an hour. I didn't want to imagine all the things Fanny and Henry did on the beds behind my back.
But time passed, neither slowly nor quickly.
I stopped looking outside, I watched the mirror in the middle of the room. If I had to guess, Frei would be back in two hours, one hour before Detective Kendrick, and...
An inconspicuous japanese man passed in front of the opened apartment entrance. He looked at it with an unconcerned stare. Unlike the five previous persons who passed through the corridor with quizzical expressions.
I wouldn't have recognized the hitman without that distant reaction, even with the picture my father procured.
I heard him stop in front of my old apartment. He paused. I could feel him think.
He came back, calm, resolute, with a silenced 9mm drawn out.
How did all those guys manage to get guns in Japan ? I sighed.
I began speaking. In Japanese, I didn't want to suffer through this man's english.
« Konnichiwa Murazaki-san. I wouldn't recommend you coming in. »
He looked back at me through the mirror, he saw my lips move, because he definitely didn't hear me.
He pulled one of his earplugs out.
Silenced guns still do a hell of a noise at close range after all.
« You're a strange target Miss Jourdin. Maybe my strangest yet.»
Miss. No mockery. Either he was really open minded or he wasn't well informed. And well, have you ever heard of open minded professionnal killers ? Add to this his Osaka dialect, his demeanor, his tatoo peering out of his left sleeve. I knew enough.
He stepped inside.
« I would recommend you don't step further inside. » I repeated.
« Sure. » He said with a smile. I saw him aim, he had guessed my position with the mirror.
I didn't flinch when he shot.
Even though the silencer almost completly blocked out the echo of the bullet, the explosion of powder still made a hell of a noise. It resonated throughout the large apartment.
The 9mm bullet easily went through the wall, but was stopped in the layer of the first mattress.
« That was more dangerous than you think. I wouldn't do that again if I were you. »
The killer snorted, and stepped slowly forward again. When he arrived just in front of the bathroom's door, I questioned him.
« How is the prostitute you definitely don't love ? »
His expression didn't betray anything. A real pro. But he stopped moving. And that was enough.
« I don't see what you're talking about. »
« The girl, the one who you always ask for. »
His face finally showed something else than calm. Anger it was now.
« You're bluffing, you don't know shit. »
« Because no one is supposed to know ? Because not even you really know how much she means to you? »
« I don't know who told you about Yuna, but I'll be getting that info out of you. It was supposed to be a clean job, you just made it messy. »
Yuna, what a cliché name.
« It would... »
But he didn't let me continue.
« And I'm completely in love with her, I know exactly how much she counts. You fucked up little girl, you're clearly not that well informed, she's not called Yuna. Which means this is just a bluff. »
Ah shit, didn't expect that. People always amaze me. Still only sorrow grieved me. This man was smart enough to realize the bluff, but not enough to realize the real threat.
« Please don't step forward, I don't want to hurt anyone. » I pleaded.
He snorted again.
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« That's the strangest way of saying 'please don't kill me' »
And he stepped forwards.
« Do you know what you can do with flour ? » I asked sadly while pushing the button on my phone.
That girl was crazy. Contacting the man who was supposed to kill you. But it could happen, to beg, to give a counteroffer. But never to give away your location. Not that he needed it. Shikami gave him everything in that usual pink letter of his. Shin Murazaki never betrayed his payer's trust. It was bad for business. And bad in this business meant drowned in Tokyo Bay. Even though he knew Shikami had other ways of punishing his employees.
Still, Shin didn't like this mission at all. Seven hitman had been engaged. To kill one young adult. A real shame considering her face. But that's not why Shin didn't like this.
It was overkill. Even more so to ask them to attack at the same time.
That he couldn't agree with. Asking killers to work together always ended in blood. It was the best way to fail a mission. So he went early, his target was closest to him after all. It only took him one hour from where he was. But he needed to prepare, make-up, disguise, he was known from the police force after all. Even though the job shouldn't take long. Better be safe than sorry.
Still his feeling of « something's wrong » never really left him.
Even more when he realized his target had changed location. To the apartment next door.
It didn't make any sense.
What's more the door was open. Begging him to come in. This and the white cloud coming from underneath the closed door of what had to be the bathroom. And finally this mirror in the center of the room, letting him see where she was, letting him talk to her.
He did something unprofesionnal. He would talk with her, even though he knew it wasn't a good idea. But it was just for an instant. Just to hear this strange suicidal creature's voice. Understand what those lips in the mirror were trying to tell him.
Once this strange compulsion had passed he shot.
Three loud noises.
He was certain he aimed perfectly through the wall.
Still, his target, Sias Jourdin, was still sitting in her chair, unfazed. At least that was what he was seeing in the mirror she had placed in front of him. He understood that she had placed mattresses behind her, and that it seemed to be enough to stop the short rounds of his gun, but even still, her lack of reaction.
It was unnatural.
Shikami had hidden things about her, he was certain of it. She wasn't the young heiress of an old family. She wasn't the sheltered princess he had been informed of.
The girl was still asking him to leave. To walk away. Even involving Vanessa in this, how she would know about his prostitute girlfriend, that he didn't know. Still, it was a bluff, as the girl didn't react at the fake name he had given her.
He had to finish the mission. Getting the pay of six other hitmen was pretty alluring after all.
Still, his unease was getting even stronger. Something was wrong.
The girl, he realized, was white. And it wasn't the color of her skin, she was white . Extremely so, way too much. Like she had bathed in cocaine.
Bathed. The word echoed in his head, like it was supposed to tell him something else.
He couldn't figure out what the hell this meant. And the sad woman in the mirror, the face of someone grieving, was distracting him.
He had a mission to finish, he repeated like a mantra.
He stepped forward.
« Do you know what you can do with flour ? » The crying monster asked.
Click.
Click.
The white powder coming from the room on his left.
« Shimatta. »
I always liked cooking cakes with my grandmother.
It was a calming, peaceful experience in this crazy world that was the Jourdin family.
But I could always count on grandfather to destroy childish illusions.
I couldn't do much with eggs, but I knew how to create a bomb with multiple sacks of flour.
Simple, but incredibly messy and only possible in enclosed spaced. Well if you wanted it to be really effective at least.
Like a closed bathroom for example.
Dust explosion.
I pressed the button to launch the ignition and pressed my head between my legs.
I heard Shimizake say « Shimatta ».
Then silence.
A ringing in my ear.
A terrible rumble through my bones.
One minute passed, the automatic fire sprinklers washed away the flour on my clothes.
I stood up. Wobbling a bit without the help of my ears to balance my body.
The mirror had shattered, as did most of the room's windows.
Parts of the wall behind me had become shrapnel that had pierced through most of the furniture in the room.
The mattresses though, held on. The second one at least.
I walked to the entrance.
Murazaki's body was shredded. Part of the bathroom door had exploded right next to him. I picked up his gun and drew something on the wall with his blood.
It was disgusting I know. But I needed to pass a message.
« Shikami sent you to your death. He lied. »
That would be enough.
I took multiple pics of the scene with my phone and sent it to the four other contacts my father gave me. If there were more... well I would hope they get the message somehow or another.
This all took three minutes. I could hear security and people finally reacting to the explosion that had happened.
I went next door to take Frei and mine's luggage.
I texted her. Saying I would come to her and she didn't need to come back. That she was right, that I shouldn't stay here alone.
She would be pissed I moved on my own but at least she'd think I finally saw reason.
My phone rang immediately, but it wasn't her. I recognized the number. The detective.
I didn't answer.
As I went out of my room, I could see multiple people in front of Fanny and Henry's old apartment on my right. Someone had apparently fainted and was getting gently smacked on the face to regain consciousness, while the manager was trying to stop american tourists from taking pictures of the body inside.
« Police is coming. Sumimasen do not take foto ! »
I passed through the commotion, acting vaguely intrigued at what had happened.
No one even noticed my wet clothes, and the « sploosh » sound I was making at every step.
I didn't have the luxury of time to change my clothes.
I caught a glimpse of my assassin.
I sighed.
He wasn't a good man. But I still felt bad. Every step I made to « defend » myself from people like him, only made me closer to the monster my grandfather cursed me to become.
It was a fate I had and will always reject.
But today, Grand-Père had won the battle.