The screen of Shiki's phone lit up with a new message, his name flashing across the glass. It was from the boss.
Did you do it? Is he returning?
Shiki didn't even have to look at his phone. He knew what the message said. He had already sent his report. But the boss was never satisfied with just a text. He wanted to hear the disappointment in his voice. Shiki chose to ignore the call.
I asked you a question, Shiki. Don't make me send a message you don't want to get.
A chill went down Shiki's spine. The message was a direct threat. He knew what it meant. But before he could respond, another message came, almost as a warning.
If someone leaves the gang, we must make him pay the price.
That was the unbreakable law of their organization, the code they lived and died by. Shiki knew it by heart. But he never thought it would be applied to Satoru.
He betrayed us. The final text message was blunt, cutting, and final. So you know Satoru must pay. If you can't do it, I'll send someone else to do it.
A final message came, a final command. So you better do your work.
Shiki turned off his phone with a frustrated sigh. His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the screen. The boss knew him too well. He knew that Shiki would never want anyone else to kill Satoru. He would never allow it. He couldn't let Satoru be killed by some random assassin who didn't know the man he truly was.
He was the one who had admired Satoru the most. He was the one who had followed him everywhere. He was the one who had seen his true skill.
I guess I have to do it, Shiki muttered, his voice raw with pain and disbelief. I will be the one to do it. And I'll do it in the least painful way possible.
He walked through the crowded streets, the bustling sounds of a normal, peaceful life a stark contrast to the dark orders in his pocket. He stopped at a small street stall and bought a bag of candy, the sweet, sugary smell a welcome distraction.
He reached his hideout, a small, rundown apartment, and began to pack. He was a hitman, and his hands were meant for taking lives, but as he packed the bullets, he thought back to the missions he and Satoru had done together. Satoru was always careful. He would disarm and disable, but he would never kill. He always found a different way.
Shiki took out his favorite pistol, a sleek, black handgun that fit perfectly in his palm. He looked at it, and a wave of nausea washed over him.
"I should be the one to do it," he muttered again, his voice now a desperate whisper. "I'll do it myself… I'll be careful."
Two days later, Shiki walked toward Tarou's store. The street was buzzing with life. Kids were heading to school, laughter filled the air, and vendors were setting up their stalls.
He met Satoru's mom outside, watering the small plants by the door. She looked exactly as she had two days ago, her face young and glowing, a warm smile on her lips.
"Oh, you're the boy from the other day, aren't you? What was your name again?" she asked kindly, her voice as gentle as a lullaby.
"Shiki," he replied, his voice barely audible.
"Oh, right. Shiki," she said, her smile widening. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine, ma," Shiki said, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. "But who are you?"
"Me? Oh, I'm Satoru's mom. You can call me Miss Tarou."
Shiki's heart pounded. He knew her name was Tarou from his reports, but he never expected her to look so young. She looked like a woman in her twenties, maybe early thirties. "What the hell…" he muttered to himself. "If you are big bro Satoru's mom, how are you this young?"
Miss Tarou laughed softly. "People always say that. I just live a simple life, that's all."
"Oh, ma," Shiki said, trying to steady his voice. "Is big bro Satoru inside?"
"Yes, he's in the back, reading," she replied, nodding toward the store. "You can go on in."
"Okay, thank you," Shiki said, forcing a smile. He felt a deep sense of pain as he walked past her. He was about to kill her only son.
He entered the store, his hand slowly reaching into his bag. He took out his gun, his hands shaking slightly as he loaded it with bullets. The weight of the weapon felt heavy in his hand.
"Hey, Shiki, what are you still doing here?" Satoru said, his voice coming from behind a stack of books. He was seated in a cozy chair, a book in his hands, completely absorbed.
"Hi again, big bro Satoru," Shiki said, his voice now a cold mask. He held his hands behind him, the gun hidden from view. "I just came to buy something and leave."
Then, with a sudden motion, he brought the gun out and fired.
BAM!
The shot rang out, loud and deafening in the small store. The bullet flew, a streak of metal aimed straight at Satoru's head. But before it could reach him, a small, dark object shot out from a table and slammed into the bullet. The marble, for that's what it was, was no match for the bullet. It shattered into a thousand tiny particles, but the collision was enough to change the bullet's trajectory, sending it harmlessly into a shelf of books.
Shiki closed his eyes to avoid the flying particles, and when he opened them again, Satoru was gone.
"What? Where the hell did he go?" Shiki said, his voice laced with confusion and frustration. "Dammit, I can't find him!" He began to search the store, his eyes darting from shelf to shelf, from counter to counter.
Suddenly, a small, cold object hit the back of his neck. He turned around, and Satoru was standing behind the counter, holding a toy gun, the kind that shoots marbles. He aimed it at Shiki and fired.
Pew! Pew! Pew!
One of the marbles hit Shiki in the chest, and he was able to dodge the others. He prepared to turn around, but he was too late. A large, old book slammed into the back of his head with a resounding thwack.
"I need to organize myself," Shiki muttered, trying to shake the cobwebs from his head.
He was stopped cold. Satoru was already behind him. Satoru didn't use his fists. He simply used his foot to push Shiki's leg out from under him, sending him flying. Shiki slammed into a bookshelf, which crashed to the ground, sending books everywhere.
"Damn! What the hell was I thinking?" Shiki said, as he tried to get up, but a hand landed on his shoulder. It was Satoru, who hit the back of his neck, and Shiki's world went black.
Shiki slowly opened his eyes, his head throbbing. He was lying on a soft bed, a clean blanket tucked around him.
"Food is ready! Help me to set up!" a voice called from downstairs.
"Mom, he's awake!" another voice said excitedly.
"Oh my, thank goodness!" Miss Tarou exclaimed, rushing into the room.
"Um… where am I?" Shiki said, his mind foggy with confusion.
"You're in our house," Miss Tarou said with a warm smile.
Suddenly, Shiki was being dragged out of the room by a small boy. "Oh, I know!" the boy said with a huge smile. "You'll join us for dinner!"
Shiki was surprised by the sudden kindness. He was still trying to process what had happened. He sat down at the dinner table, a bowl of rice and a bowl of soup in front of him.
"So, what do you want? Extra food?" Miss Tarou asked, her face full of warmth and concern.
Satoru, who was sitting across from him, complained. "Mom, we should just kick him out. He tried to kill me."
"No, no!" Miss Tarou said, smacking the back of Satoru's head with a gentle hand. Satoru collapsed to the floor with a comical groan.