2012
One month later
Ayane's shop
Japan
3:15 PM
*Ding Ding ding*
Metal door chimes clanged against each other as Yoru pushed open the glass door, causing Ayane to stop putting outfits on display and look to her store's entrance.
"Ah, good afternoon Ms. Wick." The red-head greeted, gently laying down a hanger. "Are you here to pick up your order?"
"Yes, I am." The hitwoman nodded while the seamstress quickly rushed over to her. "Is it ready?"
"It is." Ayane quickly flipped her 'open' sign to the side that signalled she was out. "Please, follow me."
The two strolled over to the back of the store and into the store's secret room.
"If I remember…" The tailor rummaged through a closet filled with hung up suits, checking the tags attached to their collars. "Ah, here it is."
She pulled out a pitch-black coat alongside a pair of pants in the same color.
"I hope my modifications didn't cause too many issues." Yoru examined the garment. She ran her fingers across the cloth, feeling the telltale sign of subsurface armor sewn within the jacket.
"Sourcing the materials caused me some issues." Ayane remarked as the assassin moved onto the trousers, more akin to riding pants than formal slacks. "But I was able to complete your order, in the end."
"Can I try these on?" The teen inquired.
"Of course Miss Wick." The ginger gave the younger girl a nod.
"Thank you." Yoru quickly replaced the pants she had on with the new pair of trousers.
"Hmm." The hitwoman hummed as she tested out her new range of motion.
"How is it?" Ayane asked as Yoru knelt on the ground.
"I can tell that you've put armor wherever you could." The assassin got up. "And my movement isn't hampered at all. The knee pads don't dig into my skin even when I put my weight on it."
"I think you did a great job." Yoru turned toward the seamstress.
"Do you wish to try the overcoat?" The red-head offered the garment to the shorter teen.
"Thank you." The Wick took the overcoat off the hanger, throwing it over herself before buttoning up.
The top half of the wool jacket was bulky – especially around the chest region – with sleeves that taper off below the elbow. It hung loosely to the hitwoman, clearly being a size or two too large for her five foot two frame. However, it was tailored to her exact specifications. The additional space would be filled up by her chestpiece and the loose fit of the garment would help hide the armor's jagged silhouette.
Yoru reached up and pinched the collar. Despite the wool-lined outermost layer, she could tell the armor hidden in between was thicker than that of any blazer. It was excessive, far beyond what other assassins would normally field. Yet, it might be the only thing that'll keep her alive by the end of her retirement mission.
The girl reached into the jacket's oversized pockets. Her hand wasn't stopped by the fabric of the pocket bag. Instead, her fingers landed exactly where her holster and magazines would've been stored. Easy access without compromising on protection in close-range gun rights.
Moving lower down to where the base of the overcoat covered her thighs, the armor was the thickest there. It was the stiffest portion of the garment, compensating for the pants' lack of armor in that region.
"Were they to your liking, Miss Wick?" Ayane asked just as Yoru finished inspecting her new outfit.
"They were perfect, Ayane." The girl responded. "How much do I owe you?"
"Six coins, Miss Wick." The hitwoman raised her eyebrow at the price.
"That is quite steep, even for custom work." Yoru commented.
"The new armor is quite difficult to source for small shops like mine." The tailor clarified. "And I can make five pairs of regular suits and pants with how much material I put into them. Stopping rifle rounds comes at a hefty price."
"Hmm, I see." The girl had already started changing as the ginger started explaining. She reached into her pockets and pulled out a plastic tube, unscrewing the cap and shaking out eight coins.
"Have some extra for the trouble." Yoru presented Ayane with her payment.
"Thank you." The woman accepted the coins, stowing them away in her apron pocket. "Oh, before you leave, do I have your permission to put this design up in my catalogue? I'd hate for something as unique as this to never see the light of day again."
"Go ahead." The assassin got up with her purchased garments in hand. "It's your work. I don't particularly mind what you do with it afterward."
"Thank you." Ayane bowed as Yoru exited the room. "Be seeing you, Miss Wick."
"Be seeing you as well, Ayane." Door chimes echoed her departure from the store.
The silence after the meta rods stopped clinking against one another was loud, almost as if the teen's exit marked an omen for something far larger on the horizon.
[... .... .- -.. --- .-- / --- ..-. / .- -. / .. -.. --- .-.. ---... / .-.. . .- ...- .. -. --. / - .... . / .-.. .. ..-. . / -.-- --- ..- / -.- -. . .--]
Yoru's home
Miyazaki
4:30 PM
*Crank*
The basement entrance unlocked with an authoritative sound as its deadbolt slammed back.
Yoru pushed open the door. Rays of orange light illuminated the pitch-black staircase, lighting up the mouth but failing to pierce into the belly. The girl reached out and flicked on a light switch, causing sterile white light to illuminate the stairwell.
*Thump* *Click* *clack* *click*
The door closed and relocked with a series of clicks behind the hitwoman as she made her way down the steps. At the bottom was yet another door, the final heavyset barrier to the most heavily guarded part of her home.
Yoru pressed her fingers against a keypad's fingerprint scanner. After a couple of seconds, a chorus of latches undoing themselves greeted her. The steel door opens slightly ajar like it's reaching out for a handshake.
The assassin pulled it open and stepped through the doorway into the heart of her armory. It was built to be both a place for her to store her arms and an impenetrable safe room if the unthinkable ever happened. Her eyes scanned the space's walls, taking note of the variety of firearms she's amassed over the years.
Kalashnikov-style and AK-adjacent rifles dominated the majority of the space. It was the platform she was the most comfortable with. Despite trying out Ar-15 and Ar-18 derivatives – and even some bullpups here and there – she always found herself coming back to the comfort of rock and lock magazines.
Yoru strolled around the room for a couple of moments before absentmindedly picking up a rifle.
It was a G36KA4, a modernized variant of the G36K carbine made for German special forces. With a twelve and a half inch barrel and chambered in 5.56 NATO, it runs the standard AR-18 gas system.
The rifle was enjoyable enough to shoot and HK didn't skimp on quality; however, the teenager didn't share the same fondness for the company like her father. They had a reputation for being built for professionals – sure — but 5.56 simply wasn't her caliber of choice.
Yoru put the German rifle back and picked up another one. The AM17, a prototype carbine developed for the Russian military. Chambered in 5.45x39 with a nine-inch barrel and a side charging handle, its form was very close to the AK-Alfa she used in the war.
Yoru racked the PDW a couple of times before shouldering it. The carbine was light, much lighter than an AK of the same size would've been. She pulled the trigger, the gun clicked empty and the Wick placed it back on the wall.
Despite its advantages, she wasn't going to bet her life on a prototype. After all, small issues that never came up during testing have a tendency to cause catastrophic malfunctions in the battlefield. Moreover, she had much preferred the close-range power of the 7.62 over the long-range stability of the 5.45.
The hitwoman looked around at the remainder of her collection. Whether it's parts compatibility, reliability, durability, or having features she couldn't reconcile with, she decided against bringing her more exotic military rifles. They were adequate for the various missions she bought them for, but adequate doesn't cut it for the most important undertaking of her life.
That left her with her American-made AKs. Unlike the standardization of her military rifles, those firearms were customized to her specifications. Apart from the SAK-21 – which isn't even an AK variant despite its creators trying to claim otherwise – the Continental armorers should have spare parts in stock should any component break.
'And out of all of these…' Yoru strolled toward one that checked all her boxes. She picked the rifle up and began inspections.
The M23, a custom AK derivative created by a master American gunsmith. The carbine is built from the ground up to be a modernization of the Kalashnikov platform. Its controls are similar enough to the AK-Alfa that she didn't need much time to adapt. Moreover, its m-lock handguard and rails allows her a range of customizability that would've been impossible on a traditional AK.
Satisfied with her choice, Yoru set her rifle down on the table. After she equipped it with her chosen attachments and a two-point sling, the assassin began to look through her pistol cabinet. Fortunately, the process of choosing the right pistol is infinitely easier than her rifles.
The hitwoman pulled out her choice of sidearm: the CZ Shadow 2 Compact, a smaller variant of the CZ Shadow 2 with an optics cut. Out of all the pistols she's used over the years, it reigned supreme as her favorite handgun.
Its features made the gun ideal for long, drawn out firefights as well as rapid-fire shots. Given the objectives of Yoru's final mission, reliability, durability and flexibility are necessary hallmarks of any weapon.
She set the handgun beside her chosen carbine and moved on to choosing her knives. When guns run empty, knives serve as the final equalizers. A sharp blade cares not for strength when put against flesh, only proper edge alignment and a slicing motion.
The assassin dragged out a heavy-duty polymer case and set it on the table with an authoritative thud. Upon opening the container, the glint of blades sitting in beds of foam greeted her. The hitwoman's eyes scanned the retinue of resting blades before picking out two.
First was the Applegate-Fairbairn. A six-inch dagger with a wider blade profile that traded off some thrusting effectiveness for better cuts and slashes.
The knife was among her first purchases after officially becoming a part of the underworld. It stayed with her throughout the High-Table war and continued to be a mainstay of her arsenal. Bringing it with her for her final contract was a no-brainer. It was a good blade and had her back in many desperate situations.
Next was Cold Steel's Drop-Forged boot knife. It is a dagger-style knife similar to her Applegate but with a shorter blade and a very simplified handle. It lacks many of the bells and whistles of her Applegate, but its plainness made it a great emergency option. The choice between having a blade or armed with just her bare fists is an easy one.
Yoru laid them beside her firearms and started preparing her gear.
Weapons kill. They end lives faster than most people could react. They're the ones that get analyzed, their advantages dissected for anyone who wants a minute edge over their adversaries. Even if only milliseconds were shaved off, assassins still flock to get their hands on them if that time save was consistent.
Gear on the other hand gets overlooked. They do their jobs silently, a noiseless void where guns and knives shout. But that quiet saves lives. Most never know they're there until their benefits disappear and by then, it's already too late.
If an assassin is a spear, then their weapons are the spearhead and their gear is the shaft. A sharp tip with a shaft made of plywood is worthless because it will break upon the first hit and a crumbling tip with a reinforced shaft is equally as worthless because it's no better than a stick.
The weapon and the gear makes the assassin. Yoru isn't planning to skimp on either.
First up is the combat belt: a piece of equipment more commonly used among soldiers than assassins. However, rarity does not translate to ineffectiveness.
Custom cut to fit her hip line, the belt distributes weight closer to her waist. With how top-heavy all her equipment will make her, lowering her center of gravity is a necessity. A higher center of gravity will make it harder to maintain balance in combat and slips and falls are a good way to be transported into the afterlife.
The same armor that's in her new overcoat is also sewn into the battle belt alongside padding for blunt trauma. Call it paranoia, but if fighting in the most brutal urban warzone has taught her anything, bullets and shrapnel will find a way to sneak into the crevices not covered by kevlar or ballistic plating. Even if the chances of it happening is one in ten thousand, battlefields have a way of making that one in ten thousand almost certain.
There can never be enough armor, but there is only so much weight Yoru can handle. The two STKSS load transfer slots on either side of the belt handles that. They help take the weight of the hitwoman's chestpiece off her upper body and into her lower.
The hitwoman could easily carry the mass of her body armor for hours, but fatigue piles up. More fatigue means more exhaustion. More exhaustion means less combat effectiveness. Less combat effectiveness means she is less likely to come home.
The belt's rear strip has six cells and each side carries eight. That's room for grenades, extra magazines, maybe a small med-kit if she has to patch herself up in the time between firefights. Although the inside of her overcoat has room for spare magazines and throwables, it's better to have extras she doesn't need than to need extras she doesn't have.
Yoru stripped off her shorts and cotton shirt, replacing them with her armored pants and a running shirt. She strapped the battle belt to her waist, looping suspenders around her torso to stabilize it further.
Next came her chest piece. Black and astronomically heavy with thick composite plates designed to stop 50 BMG. Built for a warzone that killed even the best the High Table had to offer, it was the definition of overkill.
However, that is why it's perfect. Even the best commercial plates won't absorb all the kinetic energy from a speeding bullet. Although the damage is a fraction of what it could've been, the impact is still there.
Yoru expected to be shot hundreds, if not thousands of times over the course of her stay in Osaka. Damage will pile up, minor injuries inevitably compounding onto one another. If she had brought anything less substantial, the hitwoman would be subjected to a death by a thousand cuts.
After the chestplate's weight settled on her shoulders, the girl clipped the STKSS units onto the base of the armor. The effect was almost immediate: forty pounds of composite material was transferred from her upper body to her waist.
Yoru then moved to fully deck out her equipment. After all, space not used properly is space wasted. Magazine pouches, a med kit and different types of grenades populated the belt. The hitwoman fastened a sheathe to her chest and attached a pistol holster to her leg. Both are easily accessible and secure when her overcoat covers them both.
Speaking of the garment, that was the next article to be decked out. Yoru splayed the coat over her table and started stuffing the inner lining. Magazines, grenades, the same things that went on her battle belt are put into loops sewn on the inside of the overcoat.
Once the teen finished, she threaded her arms through the jacket's sleeves before fastening its first two buttons. The garment hid her tactical gear, ambiguating the sharp angles of her chestpiece and covering her battle belt. If someone were to pass her on the street, they wouldn't think anything is out of the ordinary. After all, this chilly November had made long coats a relatively common sight on the street.
Next came the gloves. Heavy-duty nylon and finger vents made the garment covering breathable while thermoplastic rubber on the knuckles provided extra protection against hard surfaces. The goat skin covering the front of her hand reinforces her palm and improves grip.
Though most assassins opt to not wear hand protection for discreetness, Yoru doesn't have that option. Fractures take days to heal, days the contract doesn't give her. If one hand ever goes out of commission, then she can kiss the thought of completing her retirement mission goodbye.
The final piece of her gear is her custom combat boots. The shoe's collar stretched up to her ankles, giving her body yet another layer of protection. Steel caps covered the toes and metal plates ran through the soles and reinforced the heel.
They aren't there just for protection. The added weight and rigidity of the metal transformed her feet into miniature sledgehammers. Kicks go from devastating to lethal, shattering bones instead of merely fracturing.
Yoru looked into the mirror. The reflection that looked back is no longer the twin sister of Ai Hoshino, but the Angel of Death, Azrael. Her visage that had softened during her trip with Ai were all filed away.
Her violet mane cascaded down her shoulders. An amethyst waterfall pouring over an obsidian cliff. Free-flowing long hair is a symbol for the female assassins. To have them and not tie them up presents vulnerability. They're a weak point your opponent will take full advantage of and a hindrance in intense shootouts.
Yoru opened a drawer, picking out several rubber bands to tie her hair into a ponytail. Once she finished, the hitwoman picked up her wolf hairclip from the corner of the receptacle.
The accessory was a gift from one of her dearly departed friends. It had been with her for every mission, every contract she's undertaken. For all that's changed about the hitwoman, it was one of the things that remained constant.
She closed her hand around the clip before pocketing it. The assassin had other plans for it tonight. It won't be coming with her to Osaka.
Yoru returned to the table where she stashed all her arms. She loaded her firearms, racking their charging handles and flicking on their safeties before stowing them away on her person. The knives were sheathed with quiet clicks. Though they're hidden behind the thick overcoat, they are ready to taste blood at a moment's notice.
The hitwoman turned her attention to the corner of the armory. There, standing in an old umbrella stand she pulled out of a storage closet was her swiss saber.
It had been a symbol. Her symbol. The Angel of Death's blade of judgement. The Ruska Roma's bloody right hand made manifest.
The sword had been reforged, rebuilt for the girl instead of the angel. It's lighter, more maneuverable. Designed more for dueling rather than swinging at people covered head to toe in bulletproof armor.
Yoru picked the swiss saber up and brought it to her back. The magnets in her chestplate connected with the ones in the sheathe, firmly attaching it to her person.
The hitwoman checked herself once more to make sure she had everything she needed. Once she's satisfied, the teen walked to the corner furthest from the armory's entrance.
Inches of transparent ballistic shielding stood in front of a silver necklace and a midnight black suit. Pictures of the articles' previous owners were delicately placed around their pedestals.
Hanging above her parents' effects were an orthodox cross and pictures of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ hanging to the left and right of the crucifix respectively.
This is why her armory has so many interlocking layers of security. It wasn't to prevent anyone from getting access to her firearms, but to protect the thing the girl had cherished above all.
The assassin took two candles and a lighter from a nearby shelf, setting them on the altar before lighting them.
She dropped down on both knees and clasped her hands together. Yoru brought her head down low – low enough for her forehead to touch her knuckles – for a couple of seconds.
The girl quietly uttered a prayer for her parents, one that begs to grant them rest and forgiveness.
"Mom, dad." The teen raised her head and let her hands rest upon her knees. "How have you been?"
The flame lit atop the candles continued to steadily burn.
"I know that I haven't really been around these past couple months." Yoru continued. "I'm sorry."
Her apology went unanswered.
"I'm with my sister again." The girl's voice was low, twinged with a shade of regret. "We happened to bump into one another at the same hospital and she's refused to let go of me since."
"I've spent the past couple of months catching up with her." The Wick's eyes were downcast. "We went on trips we talked about as kids. Flying to all sorts of different places to enjoy ourselves. Singapore, Beijing, Naples, Paris…"
She paused for a moment.
"New York." Yoru continued. "We cleaned your graves right before we set off for Miami. She said it was great to finally meet the people who raised me."
The violet-haired teenager took in a deep breath.
"After all of that," She looked up at the two candles set upon the altar. "I finally decided to stop being a coward. I'm going to do the one thing I've been putting off for years."
"I'm leaving the underworld." Her declaration seemed to make the room still. "I'm not going to be Azrael, I'm not going to be the Angel of Death, for those God-forsaken people any longer."
Yoru paused. She closed her eyes, taking another couple of moments to compose herself.
"I've been a bad daughter, haven't I?" The girl opened her eyes and gave her parents' memorial a sad smile. "I sometimes ask myself what would you have wanted for me. It comes back to 'not this' every single time."
"I know you two wanted me to be happy." The Wick continued. "Neither of you had really wanted any more than that. No matter what I'm doing, so long as I find joy in doing it, you two would be happy as well."
"To be completely honest, I haven't been truly happy for years." The admission was a weight that's been taken off her shoulders. "My time with Hikaru made me realize that. Reuniting with Ai just hammered it in. Spending time with them made me happy and I looked forward to it every time I woke up."
Somehow, the room felt warmer after Yoru's declaration.
"Being an assassin didn't do that for me." She declared. "Doing contracts, looking up information, planning, all that is just work. Work I do because I'm good at it. I've gotten enough money to live out the rest of my life comfortably."
The teen sighed.
"I'm sorry." She softly uttered after a brief moment. "I'm rambling."
"I didn't come back here to catch up." The violet-haired girl continued. "My reasons aren't as pure as that."
"I…" She trailed off. "I want you two to watch over me during my retirement mission."
"I know that this isn't what people typically ask of their dead parents." It took everything for the Wick to keep her voice level. "But I can't ask God this. God's blessings should be bestowed upon someone better than a sinner like me. I've strayed too far from His path to dare ask Him for something like this."
"So, please." Yoru lowered her head once more. "Wherever you two are. If you can hear me. Please. Watch over me. I want to return to Ai whole and support her like what I should have been doing all along."
Though silence was her only answer to her requests, she remained undeterred. The teenager stayed in that position for some time. When she felt that enough time had passed, she raised her head and rose to her feet.
"Mom, dad. Thank you." Although nothing had changed on the surface, Yoru knew that her parents would do everything in their power to oblige her if they could hear her.
The assassin turned to leave the armory. When she started walking toward the exit, the candles behind her flickered. Even though the room's ventilation was positioned nowhere near the altar, the flames danced for a split second when her back was turned.
Yoru's steel-reinforced boots clicked across the room's concrete floor. Each sound was akin to the ticking of an analog clock. She stopped at the armory's entrance, pushing open the door and letting it slam shut as she ascended the basement staircase for what could be the final time.
*Thack*
The sound of steel striking against one another was like a church bell striking at noon.
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Later
Outside of the hospital
6:16 PM
Yoru let her bike slowly come to a stop as she arrived at the hospital.
"Ruff!!" The assassin's dog excitedly barked as she engaged the kickstand.
"Yeah." The hitwoman said upon removing her helmet. "We're here, buddy."
Yoru dismounted and made her way to the pet carrier.
"There you go, woah!" The pooch jumped out almost instantly. "Hey!"
"Yeah, guess it was pretty stuffy in there, huh." The teen commented as her pitbull ran in excited circles around her. "Come on, let's go see Ai."
"Woof!" The canine barked once more before the two set off.
For a brief moment, there was quiet. Her metal-reinforced heel clicked as she walked across concrete. With the sun having long crawled below the horizon, streetlamps covered the street in yellow light.
But that quiet didn't last for long. When the hospital entrance came into sight, Yoru's dog immediately set off running.
"Woah!" Ai was waiting for them by the clinic's double doors in a hoodie and sweatpants. "Hey, buddy. It's good to see you too."
The idol crouched down and let the pooch enthusiastically licked his owner's twin sister. She laughed and gently patted the pitbull on the head.
"Who's a good boy, who's a good boy." She transitioned her pats into scritches and the canine leaned into her hands.
Yoru smiled as she continued walking. The assassin was in no particular rush. Her ride wasn't here yet.
"Having fun?" Ai straightened up as her older sister approached.
"Yeah." The shorter teen replied. "He's really nice."
"He better be." Yoru sat down on the concrete, motioning for her sibling to do the same. "Else I did all of that house training for nothing."
The idol sat next to the hitwoman and the small talk fizzled out, making way for a comforting silence.
"So, this is it." Ai broke the stillness like morning dew dripping onto a lake's surface. "You're leaving, Yoru-chan."
"Not forever." The Wick responded.
"It could be forever." Yoru looked over to her twin, but she didn't try to counter.
"I promised you, didn't I?" The sharply dressed teen turned to face the front again. "That I would come back."
"Yeah, you do keep most of your promises." The assassin tilted her head.
"Most?" She inquired.
"Well, you promised me that you'll always be by my side." The younger twin's words gave Yoru pause. "And you left. For ten years."
"I'm sorry." The hitwoman tucked her feet closer to her chest. "For not reaching out when I could've. I… wasn't in a very good headspace back then. I didn't want you to see that side of me before I could fix myself."
"Hmm." Ai hummed. "I don't blame you for that, Yoru-chan."
Now it was the Wick's turn to be surprised.
"There are some sides of myself I wouldn't want you to see either." The pregnant teen continued. "I was an angry little kid back then and I definitely don't want you to see that. I got better, but…"
She trailed off.
"Did you really?" Yoru asked.
The younger twin turned to look at her sister. There was no judgement in any of her features, only concern.
"I learned to deal with it." The answer is evasive. Both of them knew it.
"Hiding it isn't the same as dealing with it." The hitwoman replied. "Pressure will build until you can't contain it anymore. When – not if, when – it explodes, it won't be pretty."
"Hmm." The idol hummed non-comitically.
"You know, Yoru-chan." Ai changed the topic before another lull could form. "The last couple of months were really fun."
"Oh yeah?" A small smile crept onto Yoru's face. "What's your favorite part?"
"Disneyworld." The shorter teen replied. "The park rides are awesome and I loved exploring it with you. The turkey leg is also really good as well."
"That's your pregnancy cravings talking." The assassin poked her sister's cheek. "It was just okay."
"Hehe, maybe." Ai playfully slapped her twin's hand away. "Do you think we can bring the kids there someday?"
"Oh, definitely." Yoru responded. "We can make a family holiday out of it if you want. You, me and the kids go every year during golden week."
"I sometimes forget you're absolutely loaded." The entertainer remarked with a smile.
"Hmm." The Wick didn't comment. "By the way, have you thought of names for them yet?"
"No." The idol shook her head. "I have a feeling I'll know when I see them."
"Alright, you do you." The assassin shrugged. "I'm not the one giving birth."
"Hmmph! I'll remember this when you give birth." Ai countered. "I'll have my revenge!"
Yoru gave another shrug, to which her sister responded by inflating her cheeks and pouting.
Another stretch of comfortable silence passed between the two, letting them soak in each other's presence.
"You know, Yoru-chan." The hitwoman turned to the younger twin. "Sometimes, I wonder what would've happened if we had switched places back then. If I had your life and you mine kind of thing."
"Why's that?" The Wick prodded.
"It's just, you're so talented Yoru-chan. " Ai replied. "You definitely would've done better if you were in my place."
"Trust me, I wouldn't have." Yoru answered. "Don't sell yourself short either. You're talented too."
"How?" The idol tilted her head. "You can speak to so many people in so many languages and I'm struggling to remember just a couple of English words."
"Ai, I say this with full honesty." The hitwoman placed her hand on her sibling's shoulder. "I would not be able to smile if those smelly otaku came to shake my hand."
"Hey!" The entertainer indignantly squawked. "Those are my fans you're talking about!"
"Your fans need to learn to wear deodorant." The assassin retorted. "And don't lie to me. I've been to those kinds of events before."
"I was wrong, Yoru-chan." Ai admitted. "You'll never make it as an idol."
The two siblings laughed. It came easy to the two of them now. Ten years of absence seemed so far away with how much time the two had spent together over the past few months. Ai now had someone she could let her guard down and be completely at ease with and Yoru found a reason to smile and to fight for.
But this moment couldn't last forever. Reality has a way of making itself known at the most inopportune times.
The hitwoman's phone suddenly rang, its sharp thrills cutting through the night's still air.
"Yoru Wick here." The assassin accepted the call and put the device to her ear. "How may I help you?"
"I'm here." Hikaru's voice came over the speaker. "Should I come get you?"
"Sure." Yoru replied. "Come by the hospital's front entrance. My flight is in two hours. There's no need to rush."
"Who was that?" The idol inquired after the Wick pocketed her phone.
"A friend of mine who got out some time ago." The older twin answered. "He's coming to pick me up."
"Is that him?" Yoru looked toward where the idol pointed. There – in the distance – a familiar mop of blonde hair approached.
"Yeah." The hitwoman stood as her friend in a light blue motorcycle jacket came closer. "That's him."
Ai stalled for a moment before rising as well, taking care to dust off the loose debris that clung to her pants.
"Yoru!" Hikaru raised his hand in greeting as he approached the hospital entrance.
"Hikaru." The assassin began walking toward him. "It's been a long time since we met in person."
"Yeah." The officer let his arm drop to his side. "How have you been?"
"Pretty good, honestly." Yoru answered. "What about you?"
"Joined the force a month back after I graduated from police academy." The blonde replied. "Nee-san doesn't have to do any more overtime now that I'm bringing money in as well."
"I see, that's good." The purple-haired teen nodded. "How's the family?"
"Nee-san is way less stressed now." Hikaru revealed. "My nephews are excited at the fact that I can buy them better toys for their birthdays. Memu-chan just wants idol merch like always."
"As expected." The Wick intoned. "And speaking of idols…"
"Hello!" Ai's greeting was bubbly, having slipped into her idol persona the moment someone new arrived.
"Hikaru, this is my sister, Ai." Yoru stepped to the side and turned toward the man.
"Nice to meet you." The officer tilted his head in a respectful nod.
"And Ai, this is Hikaru Suzuko." The assassin turned back to her sibling. "He's a friend."
"Hmm." Instead of returning a greeting, the idol started walking around Hikaru, looking him up and down.
When she returned to her original spot, Ai turned to her twin and gave her a thumbs up.
"What does that mean?" Yoru shot a confused look at her sister.
The pregnant teen just began nodding vigorously in response.
"I- no…" The assassin instantly schooled her features in a poker face. "Absolutely not."
The entertainer's nodding only intensified.
"Hahhh…" The hitwoman facepalmed and dragged her hand down her face. "I've said this before, our relationship was never like that."
The younger twin simply raised another thumbs up in response.
"The past couple of months have been good to you." Hikaru remarked. "I've never seen you like this before."
"Like what?" Yoru turned to the blonde.
"Relaxed." He answered. "Not on edge. You were never one to fully let your guard down, not even around me."
"Well, paranoia is more of a detriment than a benefit in civilian life." The assassin shrugged her shoulders. "I'll have to wind down eventually. Better practice with family first before applying it to other people."
"And, I don't have to say that you should keep that," She tilted her head at Ai's very pregnant belly. "To yourself, do you?"
"I can give you an autograph if that keeps you quiet." The idol chimed in.
"You don't have to do that." The officer shook his head. "I know when to shut my mouth."
"But if you're offering." Hikaru reached into his back pocket and pulled out a notebook with a ballpoint pen. "Can you sign this? My niece is a big fan."
"What's her name?" The entertainer accepted the notepad.
"Memu-chan." Ai nodded and jotted down her signature, looping the pen to draw the bunny that defined it.
"Here you go!" She presented the now-signed page back to the policeman.
At the bottom, scribbled with cutesy hiragana was: 'To Memu-chan, keep shining bright like the stars in the sky!'
"Thanks." Hikaru pocketed the notebook.
He turned to Yoru.
"Are you ready to go?" The off-duty cop asked.
"Almost." The hitwoman replied.
"Ai," She turned to her sister. "I just want you to know that you'll always be my sister. No matter the circumstances, I will always love and support you."
Ai blinked and didn't say anything for a moment. However, a smile appeared on her face and she spread her arms out.
"Hug?" The younger twin asked and her older sister obliged.
"Oof, you're hard." The idol commented upon getting a proper feel of Yoru's gear and weapons. The sharp corners of the Wick's gear hidden by her longcoat dug into the Ai's skin.
"Sorry about that." Yoru broke the hug.
"No worries." The pregnant teen's smile didn't waver. "Just come back less spiky, okay?"
"I will try to." The assassin turned around. "Oh, and before I forget."
The hitwoman tossed a key ring at the entertainer. Ai barely caught it, tossing it in the air a couple of times like it was a hot potato before finally getting a firm grip on it.
"Those are my house and motorcycle keys." Yoru began walking away from the hospital and Hikaru followed suit. "They're yours until I get back."
With her back turned, the purple-haired teenager couldn't see her sister's pursed lips and acrid expression. When the Wick reached the sidewalk, she looked back.
"Bye, Ai." Yoru waved almost casually. "I love you."
With that final greeting, the pair of assassins – retiring and former – turned the corner and disappeared.
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"Bye, Yoru." Ai's voice was small. Her words had most definitely not reached Yoru and her friend.
The idol's brows furrowed almost uncharacteristically. She mentally chided herself. There was a real chance this would be the last time she would see her sister again and here she was, barely able to say goodbye with a voice only slightly louder than a mouse.
"I… love… you…" The expecting mother rolled those three words around, testing their feelings on her tongue. They felt hard, plastic like every other time she had uttered those words. There wasn't a hint of the emotion or genuinity that was present in Yoru's words.
"I love you." She said it, quicker this time to capture the same tone and cadence the assassin had used. The words still felt manufactured despite her best efforts to replicate her older sibling.
"How could you say it so honestly?" Ai questioned. The silence of the night didn't deign to answer her.
Ever since their reunion months ago, the entertainer hasn't stopped comparing herself to Yoru. Even though she knew that it wasn't healthy, the teenager couldn't help herself.
She wasn't afraid to admit that she felt inadequate next to her sister. Those feelings of inadequacy eventually stirred up something uglier: jealousy. How could she not be? Her sister was strong, confident, smart, and talented in ways she could never emulate.
Was this how her group mates feel all the time? Despite how it may appear to an outsider, Ai wasn't blind to her fellow B-Komachi members' feelings about her. After all, they made their thoughts plenty clear when the President announced she was going to be the center.
Her, a girl who ran away from Osaka to Tokyo with a half-baked plan to find her sister. Her, a girl who sang like a cuckoo and could barely stumble around to a beat.
Yet – in spite of all of her inadequacies – she ended up being the immutable pillar of the group. She was the reason for their popularity, the reason they have the opportunity to perform on stages that would've been out of their weight class.
B-Komachi was crippled without her. Ai knows this, yet she still decided to take a half-year break to give birth to her children. Was it selfish to put her desires above the livelihood of the company and her group members? Yes. Most definitely. However, she has built up B-komachi's popularity once. She can thrust them into the spotlight once more.
'We're identical twins, but we can't be any more different.' The girl mused. 'Yoru-chan is everything I'm not.'
Where the idol lies, the hitwoman says nothing at all. Where she deflects, her sister confronts. The assassin is strong where she's weak, knowledgeable when she's ignorant. While Yoru is a shining beacon of integrity in a den of snakes, Ai is the biggest snake in the swamp.
Does she not love Yoru?
That question came unprompted from the darkest recess of her mind. Ai immediately tried to refute it, but none of the reasons she thought up satisfied her.
Yoru loves her, that much is for certain. The hitwoman spent the months after her reunion spending as much time as she could with her. Her sister took the idol to places she never thought she would be able to go, experiencing things she thought would forever remain distant dreams.
Some sister Ai is. Yoru is throwing her entire career away for her and the idol doesn't even know if she actually loves her or not.
The expecting mother heaved a sigh and pried that question off her mind. It wasn't something she could answer by her lonesome. This required a sit down and a talk with her sibling, something that is impossible right now.
'Yoru-chan's friend,' Ai thought of the officer who shared her ex-boyfriend's name and hair color to distract herself. 'He's so different from my Hikaru.'
It seems like the idol and her twin sister, the two blondes were polar opposites as well. Her sister's friend had brown eyes that radiated warmth while her ex had voids of pale purple that concealed his inner darkness. The policeman had escaped the criminal underworld and made a new life for himself while her Hikaru had…
Ai grimaced. It seems that even months after their breakup, the emotions were still raw. She could still hear his voice cracking when she announced her intentions, him shattering the moment she left the room.
In a sense, her relationship with her ex-boyfriend and the relationship between the officer and Yoru were one in the same. They were the light to their partners' darkness, the one good thing their counterparts had desperately clung to.
But unlike her, the brown-eyed Hikaru actually succeeded. He didn't pull the assassin out all the way – that would've been an impossible task given her sister's state at the time – but the officer did enough that Yoru allowed herself to be convinced when they reunited.
Feelings of inadequacies swam across Ai's frame like loaches in muddy river water. If the officer – who couldn't be that much older than they are now – saw Yoru in a state far beyond what most considered fixable and decided that he could help, why couldn't she have done the same? Could she have helped her Hikaru if she had just been a little less cowardly, a little less self-centered? Could she have convinced him like she convinced Yoru?
The question hammered the back of her head as she stayed rooted in the same spot.
'No.' Ai's mind finally supplied. 'No, I couldn't have. Not at that time.'
The answer was simple. The idol loved her Hikaru dearly, but she doesn't share the same trust in him as she did with her sister. Their relationship was built off of co-dependence, both teens being desperate for love that felt real. With such a shaky foundation, was it surprising that it toppled at the first real hurdle?
'But still…' Ai closed her eyes, remaining unmoving even when a gust of cold wind blew across her body. 'That was then. What about now?'
That was the billion-yen question, wasn't it? She definitely wasn't brave enough to let him in back then, but had that changed?
'...' Try as she might, the performer couldn't think of an answer. But even so, she-
"Hey, Ai." The familiar voice of her gynecologist interrupted her thoughts. "You should head back inside. It's quite cold out."
"Ah, sorry~" Ai snapped back into her idol persona. "I didn't notice. I was thinking about stuff."
"Hmm, yeah." The messy-haired man held open the door. "Your sister is quite the character. Did I ever tell you about how we met?"
The pregnant teen casted one last look behind her, taking a final glance at the path Yoru and the brown-eyed Hikaru went down.
"No, but I would like to hear that!" Ai glanced at her sister's keys, a wolf hairpin looked up at her.
A wolf putting away her claws and teeth so she can be with a rabbit. It sounds like something out of an old fairy tale. Hopefully, it ends like a Disney movie and not like their grim originals.
The idol quietly pocketed her sister's keys and cheerfully followed her doctor inside the hospital building. The door closed with a metallic noise and thus, all was quiet in the Miyazaki countryside.