Chapter Two

There was a building, a century and a half old, that stood right outside the limits of Shibuya-Ka. Large and ornately majestic, the mansion towered above a cove of Cherry Blossoms, its field sharing ground with the Aoyama Cemetery to the east. Days away from blooming, the silken petals glistened with late-night dew, each cluster of buds shivering in the cool, wet air. As they moved, a pale, yellow glow haloed the Weeping Cherries, casting a surreal, haunting shine down the cement walkway.

She moved down the row, casting shadows upon the damp ground whenever she stepped before a spotlight. Her arms had curled up around her chest to shield herself from the wind, her head low as she hurried beneath the golden vines of petals swinging in the gale. There was a small chain of keys held tightly within her left hand as she dashed over a puddle; clutched in her right was the black hat she had worn to her brothers funeral.

Taking the steps two at a time, Sofia hurried through the stone veranda, ducking beneath a mass of overhanging morning glory. Patting away the rain that had collected on her hood, she shook herself off, stomping her feet a few times as she tried to warm up. With a moan of apprehension, she slipped off her boots, pushing them aside, and hastily tucked the hat underneath her arm. Quickly, she withdrew the keys from her hand, momentarily fumbling as a shiver passed through her body. With one hand on the knob, she inserted the key, jiggled it about, and pushed her way into the house.

“I’m home.” Sofia shouted as she shut the door behind her. She was met with silence, and the faint, eerie sheen of moonlight trickling down on her from the stained-glass windows above. Her eyes promptly accustomed to the darkness as she took down her hood. Shaking her head, a mountain of brunette curls spilled out around her shoulders.

“Estelle?” After rubbing her numb fingers together, she tossed her keys to the side, listening as they skid onto a antiquated, marble end-table to her right.

Sofia could hear the sound of music far off into the house, muffled by the wind and sheer size of the dwelling. She glanced down the long hallway in front of her, dark and empty, except for the valuable statues and antiques that Estelle had collected throughout the years. Glancing up, she could see nothing but a circle of marble stairs elongating up into the ceiling above. The moonlight, her only source to see by, was littered with a fine, white dust. Suddenly, while she rubbed her hands together, she heard the music clearly. A faint string of laughter and chatter made their way down to her ears; she recognized every voice.

“Welcome home, Sofia.” She mumbled to herself as she hung her coat up, digging into the pockets before she moved down the hall. In her hands, a small tape recorder started to rewind, the slight, mechanical humming cut through the cold silence. “How was my day, you ask?”

She passed the lounge, as gloomy and vacant as the front hall, before walking past a row of sitting rooms. Frowning, Sofia popped a small cassette out of the recorder before setting the machine down onto a settee. The tape flipped up out of her hand, twirling in the air before landing in her open palm. She tossed it again, catching it as she passed a another room.

“Oh, my day was fine.” She stuck her head into the main parlor, glanced around, then continued on. “I lost my job. I have a migraine...”

A thudding of footsteps echoed above her head, a door slammed somewhere, then silence overtook the house again. She sighed, bowing her head as she leaned up against the wall, her hand coming up to massage her temples. Everything had been so perfect. They had finished a mission with the same dexterity and poise that made them infamous, had wiped out a four enemies, not including Masafumi, in one sweep. Her team was more or less on holiday at the moment, having nothing so grand as recreation to think about for the next month. Weiß, Sofia knew, had taken the forefront. For the next four weeks, Persia’s team would substitute for Tödliche Künste. In return, Sofia would be promised the rest and relaxation that she so deserved. Although…

She cringed. What had happened with her father was not something she could easily tell Estelle. In Sofia’s mind, the only reason why she was still part of Kritiker was because of her connections. Who else had an excuse to hang out at Takatori Incorporated all day? Who else was had the audacity to spy on their own father?

Her eyes narrowed, her brows twitched as she growled. Sofia had been a treasured asset of Kritiker’s up until this point, and she, as unwarranted as it sounded, truly believed that this mishap could be the end of it. She could soon lose her real job, her beloved way of life.

The very thought of having to tell Estelle, of having to disappoint her more then she already had, caused a surge of nausea to swell in Sofia’s gut.

She could almost imagine the look on Estelle’s face, the look of complete and utter disgust.

The anger pent up inside her suddenly exploded. With one quick jerk, the back of her fist struck the wall, the sound echoing through the large hallway. She turned around, infuriated not only by the past events of the day, but by the pain that had started to swell in her arm, and punched the wall again.

And again.

With an irritated cry, Sofia arched her hand back, the muscles in her arm twitching as she abruptly heaved the cassette forward. It launched into the air, traversing the corridor on one, swift moment. Surprisingly, before colliding into the wall, it was caught in mid-air by a woman in white.

“Is something wrong, Sofia?”

The woman’s sullen voice caught her off guard for a moment. Sofia straightened, her back turned to the doorway, knuckles bleeding, and let out a long, exhausted sigh. How incompetent and childish she must have seemed in front of her superior; how hotheaded and immoral.

“Gomen nasai.” Sofia quickly turned and bowed, the halo of curls tumbling down into her face. “It’s just been a very long day.”

“I can see that.” The woman moved within the shadows; her eyes caught the dents in her hallway wall. “Perhaps I should invest in a punching bag, ne?”

“Oh, I see.” A bottle of disinfectant was taken out of Sofia’s hands, emptied onto a bandage, and passed back. The most beautiful eyes, one an envious shade of ivy, the other a sapphire blue, glistened as they looked up at Sofia. “And this is why you were remodeling my walls?”

Sofia’s eyes shifted uneasily. Before her, sitting in a cream colored kimono, with a mane of white curls secured in the back of her neck, was the strikingly gorgeous woman known as Estelle.

“I’m really sorry.” Sofia mumbled as she retracted her bandaged hand back to her side. “I had no idea that my father was going to hire a bodyguard, an American one at that. He always used to complain about how stupid they were.”

“Americans? Or bodyguards?” Estelle smiled amusingly as she folded the ends of her kimono underneath her legs. She had a slight Kansai accent, but it was obvious her primary language was of something other than Japanese.

“Both.” Sofia replied after a moment. She grinned at the irony of the conversation. Wasn’t a member of her own team partially American? “But, really, he never used to believe in the use of a bodyguard. He was far too frugal.”

“Ah, yes,” She motioned to her left. “Your stubborn uncle is the same way.”

On the other side of the room, Persia , reclining in a sofa with his legs crossed, grunted at the mention of his relations. He was a stately man, somewhat stout, with broad shoulders and a long, bearded face. He moved uncomfortably, evident unease in his eyes as he mumbled to himself. Hearing the sound, Sofia tilted her head to the side, a drape of curls shading the discontent in her face. She was met with her uncle’s dejected glare, a hateful, guarded look that stiffened her body. Clearing her throat, she turned back towards Estelle. Persia, too, looked away as he fumbled with the cuff of his suit.

“For the time being, you don’t have to worry about your father.” Estelle touched Sofia’s shoulder gently. “Persia has Weiß keeping an eye on him.”

“That reminds me.” Sofia reached into her pocket, searching around briefly for the small tape cassette. She touched it with the tips of her fingers, smiled, then yanked it free. “It has everything on it. The conversation between my dad and I, the funeral, afterwards on the drive home. You can even hear the American in the background, that is, if you can understand him.”

“What was his name again?”

“I think it was Crawford.” She pronounced the name awkwardly. “Bradley Crawford.”

“I don’t know what we would do without you, Sofia.” Estelle replied with a generous smile, her tone subtle and delicate as she took the cassette into her hands. “With the information you get for us, Kritiker is always a step or two ahead of Reiji.”

As she spoke, a thud reverberated above their heads, mixing in with a low, agonizing groan of the house. The foundation seemed to be moving, situating itself into a comfortable position as the weight of the storm ravaged its outside. Sofia looked up briefly, catching the small breath of dust that had leaked down through the rafters.

“They’ve been waiting for you to come home.” Estelle said, as the younger brunette arched her neck. “If you want, you can--”

Her voice vanished as the lights flickered. A low, ghostly groan resonated from below; the house moved once again, bracing itself against a powerful gust of wind. Sofia lowered her head at the sound, catching Persia’s eyes peering at her thought the broken darkness. For a moment, her mind morphed; a past was revisited.

“I got something for the four of you.” Estelle’s voice sounded muffled and distant as it returned. “If you want, you can go join them and see.”

For a moment, Sofia couldn‘t turn her eyes away. She sat there, brows pulling together, lips drawn down, as Persia’s raw, unabashed hatred poured through her.

Sofia’s jaw slackened.

The lights stopped trembling, the house suddenly fell calm. Bewildered, Sofia shook away the glaze that had formed over her mind, driving away the anxiety that had started to grow within her chest. She slowly placed a hand to her throat, rubbing her neck softly as she took a breath. Estelle, who had watched the younger woman with great concern, brought an elegant hand to her own mouth, and coughed gently to seize her attention. The gentle noise caused Sofia to turn, quite bemused, to the side.

“I said you can go join them if you like.” Estelle repeated, a small, polite smile on her face. With a nod, she motioned towards the door. “I told them that I would send you up as soon as we were done.”

“Oh, sooka” Sofia shifted her weight and stood, her ankles sore from the position she had been sitting in. She cupped her hands and bowed low in reverence. “Oyasuminasai.”

“Good night, Sofia.” Estelle answered, her attention now drawn to the small, transparent cassette held between her fingers. “Tell the others the same.”

Sofia turned to her uncle, her throat dry as she slowly bowed before him.
“Oyasuminasai, Oji-san” Sofia didn’t wait for him to reply. Instead, she straightened and headed towards the hallway, her brunette curls flying out behind her as she passed the door. She turned back for a brief moment, vibrant hesitation showing on her young face. In that fleeting second, as she inched the screen past her face, she saw Persia’s eyes look into hers, his voice echoing in her mind.

“These look way better then the old ones.”

Sofia stood right outside the door, hand pressed against the wooden surface. The warmth and clamor that came from within the room was a stark contrast to her cool and poorly lit hallway. Out where she was, the relaxing drone of rain hitting the ceramic shingles above caused her mind to become comatose, her eyelids sulking as she reached for the knob.

“I don’t know.” The voice was indecisive. “I think it makes my ass look big.”

“Well…”

Sofia turned the knob.

“Well what?

“Nothing.”

She was hit with a dissonance of sounds and light, with a warm, sweet smelling wave of air that caused goose bumps to travel up her body. The room was awfully bright and jovial, boasting a stereo system and television that whirred away in the background. The heat was a pleasant surprise, as was the smell of food and the distinct sound of soda cans and aluminum bags being pried open. Chants of Mozart’s O Fortuna mixed in with a friendly hum of laughter from three girls that already occupied the room. The two that were standing the closest to the door turned upon hearing it open, broad smiles lighting up their faces.

“How was your brother’s funeral, Sof?” A woman approached, her eyes a brilliant hue of silver, and swung her arm around Sofia’s shoulder. She smelled of fresh leather and champagne, her voice oddly foreign. “Any lookers?”

“Um, that depends,” Sofia laughed and glanced at the leather clad arm draped around her neck. “If you consider relatives from my side of the family as lookers, then yeah, there was a bunch of eye candy.”

“Ugh, I’ve had enough Takatori-ness to last me for a month or two.” The woman recoiled back, a look of abhorrence on her face. She suddenly stopped, locked eyes with Sofia, and flashed a gorgeous, heart-stopping smile. “I don’t mean you though. You’re my favorite.”

Sofia smirked as the woman took her hand and led her further into the room. She bypassed a few bags of Kapa Ebisen, boxes of strawberry pocky, unwrapped rice candy and Kuro Ame. Paper cups of Botobolar Shiraz wine and Milk Tea lay in clusters around a desk in the center of the lounge. A woman with blond hair, completely oblivious to it all, sat at the table, typing slowly at a laptop computer.

“Actually, Marie.” The mercury eyed woman looked back in question as Sofia spoke, strands of red-tipped hair brushing past her cheeks. “There was an American there.”

“Ah?” Marie’s lips curls up in a baleful grin as she crossed the room towards an opened closet. “Pure bred?”

“One hundred percent.” Sofia thought for a second as she knelt down next to the blond. “He works for my father now. Bosses the old man around mostly. True Yankee, though. Can’t understand a word he says.”

“I haven’t seen a purebred American in a while.” Marie said, her eyes sparkling as she rolled her tongue. She abruptly squinted her eyes closed, pinching her nose as she frowned. “But, if he works for your dad then I’ll pass.”

“Ya sure?”

“We’ll probably have a mission on him in a few weeks anyhow.” She kicked a pile of tank tops and jeans away with her foot. “Can’t go around crushin’ on targets.”

“That’s true.” Sofia said softly as she nudged a half eaten rice ball away with the back of her hand. She took a glass of wine from beside the laptop, bringing it up to her lips as she looked to her side. “What are you looking at, Rhia?”

The blond jerked suddenly, her eyes flashing vividly as she shifted sideways. For a second, Rhiannon stared at the curly haired brunette, a small grin growing on her pale lips.

“You scared me to death.” She brought a hand up to her chest, her shock apparent. She cleared her throat and turned the laptop towards Sofia, adjusting the monitor as she spoke. “I’m just catching up on the gossip concerning Masafumi’s funeral. There seems to be more then a dozen accounts of how it went.”

“Oh, great.” Sofia took a small sip of the wine, cringing as the spicy, menthol fizz miffed her throat. “Has this gone bad?”

“No wine is bad!” Marie’s lively voice shouted back from the closet. “Year 2000 was just a bad year for vintage Mudgee.”

“This is 2000?” Sofia winced and pushed the glass away, flashes of obvious disgust swirling around her face. “Estelle has a whole bottle of Cossart Gordon from 1990 downstairs…”

“I know.” A Cheshire grin grew on Marie’s face as she stepped away from the closet, her top bare aside from a tan colored bra.

“Anyway,” Rhia broke in, picking up her laptop and inching her way closer to Sofia. She glanced at the half naked brunette, shaking her head in indignation. “They have photos of you at the service, Sof.”

Sofia leaned in, a stick of pocky hanging lazily out of her mouth. She pressed a hand to the table, sliding down from her knees as she peered at the screen. An angry huff escaped her lips; she straightened up and continued chewing.

“They called you ‘outlandish’.” Rhia spoke slowly, touching her finger to the screen. “That’s your father standing behind you, right?”

“Yup.” Sofia elongated her reply, glancing away. “That’s Reiji.”

“Then, who’s the tall--” She stopped herself, narrowed her eyes, leaned in, then leaned out. “Oh, is that the American?”

“Yup.”

“Hey, M.” Rhia looked over her laptop, extending her arm to motion the brunette closer. Glancing over, Marie, with the look of curiosity on her face, bent down next to the blond. “Here’s your future husband.”

“His name is Crawford,” Sofia added as she reached over to a small box of rice balls. “I hope this doesn’t have a plum in it.”

Marie touched the side of her face to Rhia’s, following her gaze to the photograph posted on the monitor. The two of them gawked for a moment, glancing at the tall, shady eyed Westerner with jet black hair. The man donned a white suit; Sofia, who stood beside him in the photograph, was a stark contrast with her black gown and russet skin. Marie hummed softly, lips pressed snugly together as she cocked her head to the side. Turning from the monitor, Rhiannon looked down at the nearly topless brunette and scowled.

“Can you please get some clothes on?” She touched Marie’s bare shoulder, gently pushing her away. “Between you and Autumn, I’ve seen enough bare midriffs to last me a week.”

“He looks boring.” Ignoring the blond, Marie reached a arm over the keyboard and angled the monitor closer to her face. “And pale.”

“He’s egotistical and pushy as well.” Sofia added for effect. She took a small bite of rice, swishing it around in her mouth. It didn’t taste like plum…

“Don’t eat that. It has a plum in it.” Marie said, standing up as she fumbled with the zipper at her side. “Autumn made them.”

“Let it go!” An angry voice, with the thick, pungent accent of southeast Russia, resonated from the closet. With the noise, a woman appeared, her fiery mane tied up in a bun at the crest of her neck. “I didn’t fuckin’ know that you guys di’n like ‘em.”

“Plums are gross.” Marie looked down as Sofia silently spit the rice into a napkin, nodding in silent agreement. “Autumn might as well have poisoned us.”

“You make the food next time.” Autumn grunted, her emerald eye sparkling. She was clad in leather as well, the tight fabric clinging to her muscular physique, two empty buckskin holsters hung from her hips. “Talk about poisoning…”

“What are you supposed to be?” Sofia interrupted, pointed to the rawhide suit that the redhead wore. She wiggled her finger back and forth as she took in the site. “Playing dress up?”

“Estelle got us new suits.” Marie touched the leather jumpsuit, still scuffling with the zipper stuck at her side. “Autumn and I are going to see how they hold up tomorrow if we have enough time to get out to the training grounds.”

“They were our rewards for that lil’ Schreit massacre we did a few nights ago.” Autumn added, exchanging a smirk with Marie.

“You really shouldn’t talk like that.” Rhiannon said as she reached under the table and picked up a dark, plastic bag. Inside, folded neatly, was Sofia’s suit. “We have nothing personal against them. They were simply our targets. Let’s show them some respect.”

Marie, for a second, let her arms drop to her sides. She bowed her head, leaning slowly onto one foot in reverence. As she stood, a sigh escaped her throat, her lips gently pursing together. Autumn slowly walked up behind her, her hand lightly touching the brunette’s shoulder. With a jerk, Marie’s head popped back up, a huge, wicked grin stretching out across her face. The words she said next were satiated with venom, arrogant and passionately proud, her tone a complete mockery of grief,

“Fuck respect. We kicked some serious ass, didn’t we?”

Autumn shook her head as if in pain. Her hand slowly patting her friend’s back.

“Sometimes we are just too good.” She said softly. “Too fucking good.”