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Not for the first time, Hitoka asked herself why she still did this.
“This” being the dead body on the floor, a crime scene cleaned meticulously, not a single trace of evidence to be found. Anxiety had its perks sometimes, and the terror that this is the last one, this is the one that's going to get me caught, was a pretty good motivator. Especially considering that her hands normally shook, they were always steady when she killed.
She knew there would be an envelope of cash waiting for her when she got to her mailbox.
It started out with her doing what she had to do. Her mother's medical bills on top of rent and their other bills had become too much to handle by conventional, legal means. The debt was almost completely paid off, and she had college to consider, if she ever wanted to go back to a normal life. It wasn't quite too late for that yet, though almost, as she was in her mid-twenties already.
It was a lot to think about, too much, really, so for now, she just finished the job. She could cry about her lost future later.
“How's work, Hitoka?” Her mother was always sharp, to the point, never wasted time or breath. Even in her sickness, she was like this.
“Oh, u-um, s-same as usual! Today, a customer tipped very kindly, and m-my boss was very pleased!” Her mother thought she was a waitress. She was fired from that job a year and a half ago.
“Hmm, how generous. I'm glad you have a kind boss. It's a little surprising, knowing how hard it was for you to get used to that job.”
“I guess I just, um adapted to it!”
Madoka smiled, and you could have almost forgotten that she was sick. “Atta girl.”
Hitoka was trying to figure out dinner. It was kind of ridiculous – she made so much money per contract but since it all went to bills, she held herself back and continued as she always had, even before her mother got sick; she got cheap meals from the convenience store right down the road from her apartments.
When she reached for her usual home-dinner, she accidentally bumped wrists with another.
“O-oh, please excuse me!” She immediately bowed in apology before looking up at the stranger and--
She was absolutely dumbstruck.
“Oh.”
Before her stood the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous woman she had ever seen, sleek black hair and glossy pink lips and good god look at that mole holy crap she's so sexy.
“Oh, no, please forgive me,” the woman replied, bowing as well.
“I-I'm really bad at p-paying attention, s-so!”
The softest chuckle and good god, this woman could probably tell Hitoka to jump off a bridge and she would do it gladly and without question. She could almost have trouble hearing over the sound of her own pulse.
She was definitely having trouble listening, because the goddess before her was saying something, and she totally missed it.
“S-sorry, what?”
Another soft laugh. “You're pretty cute, you know. My name is Shimizu Kiyoko.”
“Oh, um, I'm Yachi Hitoka! Nice to meet you!” She was blushing, she knew. Like, she could feel the heat up to her forehead and down her neck. Good god.
Kiyoko reached up and grabbed the dinner, handing it over to Hitoka. “Here. I can get another flavour.”
“N-no, no, no, that's okay! You can have it! P-please!”
Kiyoko smiled, took out a pen, wrote something on the package. “I insist.” She gently pushed it into Hitoka's hands and turned away with a small wave. Hitoka looked down to see a phone number written out and wow she had to be dreaming.
Hitoka stared at the number on the dinner package, the actual dinner already being consumed and an envelope of cash being counted. A beautiful woman gave her her number. Like, just like that, gave her her number. She had given up on the idea of relationships, truthfully. She'd had a girlfriend in high school and a couple of flings during her jobs, but she quit putting much thought into it. She was a killer, and love and murder don't mix very well.
So maybe her boss would say it wasn't murder, it was a job. She didn't quite believe that though. She wasn't entirely comfortable with it, but it paid her bills, and it got her mother's treatments taken care of, and it put food on her table.
In the envelope of money was a card with her next assignment. It would take place in a week, and she would have to get ready for it. She considered throwing away the package before she went to bed, but maybe some small girlish hope caused her to leave it on the counter. It would be nice to dream, she supposed.
She shouldn't text her. It would be a bad idea, especially considering what she did for a living. A really bad idea. It was best not to be hopeful. It was best not to make contact.
However she couldn't shake the feeling that she would regret it if she didn't.
So she did.
Hitoka learned that Kiyoko is amazing. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was incredibly smart, worked as a manager and a secretary for a businessman who made a lot of money (“The details aren't too interesting, I'm afraid,” she said, laughing lightly and waving her hand in a shooing gesture.). She just moved to Hitoka's neighborhood, which is why she ran into her all of the sudden at the convenience store, and she for some reason thought that there was something interesting enough about Hitoka to continue going on dates with her.
Hitoka was completely enchanted by her.
She had only two more jobs before she would be set, and...
She wished it could be different. She thought about the conversation she had with Kiyoko the night before, where Kiyoko had asked about... being exclusive.
How was she supposed to tell her that she was actually a killer? She took lives for a living? That it was more than likely not safe to be around her because rule one of being a paid hitman is that you shouldn't get others involved with you. Hitoka worked very hard to keep her private life separate from her profession, to ensure the safety of her mother and friends (to whom she hadn't spoken to in months.)
She wanted to say yes. She wanted Kiyoko in her life, wanted to be in Kiyoko's life, wanted...
She never thought she would find this, the blooming in her chest whenever she got a text from Kiyoko, whenever she smiled at her or took her hand and she never, ever could have imagined this.
“Kiyoko, I have something to tell you.”
“Yes?”
“Well, I've been giving it a lot of thought. I mean, b-being, um, official. A-and I can't do that without, uh. I have to tell you about what I do, where I get the money to pay for my mother's treatments. I've um, I've done a lot of bad things. Really, really, really bad.” She took a deep breath, fiddling with the hem of her shirt but forcing herself to look Kiyoko in the eyes. “I really, really wanna be with you. I want to be your girlfriend and I-I wanna spend all my time with you, and talk to you every day, and go out with you as much as possible. B-but I have to come clean, and I, um, I don't think you'll care for me much after, but I l-l-love you too much to keep it from you.”
She told her everything, sparing no detail. How she ended up doing this, why she did it, how many she's killed, and how many she has left before she could put it behind her.
“B-but, um, I-I understand if, um,” she could feel the tears building up, nose burning with the need to cry. “I-if you don't w-want to be around me anym-more, or if y-you go to the p-police, o-or--”
“Hitoka-chan,” Kiyoko said, voice firm and soft, hand placed on her shoulder. “It's alright. I understand. It's a lot to swallow, but I understand.”
She kissed her, and Hitoka was flying.
A sudden downpour of rain spilled from the clouds, and hope came back with a vengeance.
“I want to be with you, Hitoka. No matter what. I know the person you are.” Kiyoko's thumb brushed under Hitoka's eye and, oh, so she did start crying.
“D-do you mean it? Do you really mean it? I-I know it's awful, I've done awful things, I-I-I--”
Kiyoko kissed her again, holding her head between her hands, deepening the kiss. “I really, really mean it, Hitoka-chan. It's alright. It's going to be alright. I wont leave you. Besides, it would be unfair of me, really, since the man I work for is in a... similar line of work. I know the people who stay in this business, Hitoka-chan. You're not one of them.”
“W-w-wait, really?”
Kiyoko nodded, brushing back her bangs. “If that doesn't put you off, of course.”
Hitoka couldn't stop crying, shaking her head eagerly. “N-no, of c-course not.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about, do we?”
Hitoka smiled, kissing her again.
No, no we don't.