Chapter Text
Jet lag was an incredibly infuriating part of the job, and rarely did Nagisa find himself remaining in the country for longer than 10 days. Maybe this job was a blessing, and it’d be his 2nd week staying home, counting down the days until his target enters the building, one by one. If any more openings stay in the country, he’d have to find himself an apartment.
He chuckled at the thought, adjusting his position from lying down, disguised in the concrete by his clothes, camouflaged on the roof perfectly. He sat up, finding his research conducted and done right. It was night time anyway, and he wouldn’t have to be in the area until 4 more days from now.
Collecting his weapon, and concealing it by deconstructing the elongated sniper, shoving it in his pants, pockets heavy, serving its only purpose to hide a dirty secret. His boots were hardly audible, footsteps blending into the rustling of the sounds of nature in the environment. Honestly, Nagisa didn’t walk, or run, he slithered in the world, injecting his venom into his prey, leaving zero trace of injection in every completed job.
Picking out a JP¥100 from his wallet, slotting inside the pay-phone collector, inputting each digit to the other pay-phone, a particularly busty blonde woman would be awaiting his call.
“— How was the restaurant?” Her voice cooed through the line, Nagisa could hear the way her finger twirled the phone cord.
“Not bad, I wouldn’t recommend the cocktails though. Expensive.” Nagisa verified, “But, I still have our reservations for the 7th.”
“I can’t wait,” Irina gently intoned, “The deposit was insanely pricey, but it’s already paid for, it’s confirmed now.”
Nagisa let out a hum, before putting the phone back, letting the line click. His bank account had a precious hefty amount waiting for him, only half, the job needed to be completed before he could be nuzzled by JP¥30,000,000 for the rest of his life. Well, usually, in most cases he would be set for life. But taxes, then payment for Taiha society fees, and then he’d have to slowly cash in his dirty money.
A hassle, that’s all Nagisa could describe it as. But he could be a miserable man in Japan, slaving himself to a 9-5 job that he would perform mediocrity at. It was his true calling, and barely anyone knew of his existence. He was another face in society, easy to blend in, with the lethal ability to take advantage and lunge. Irina named him ‘Anaconda’, and he heavily despises the nickname, but will allow it in some instances.
In the instance of recognition, Nagisa will allow his victim to remember his name, or variants of his name. He’s heard ‘serpent’, ‘constrictor’. It sounds like he orchestrates a circus, too silly to be taken seriously. Curse Irina and her catchy nicknames, they stuck like a bad case of measles.
His hotel was specifically 6 blocks away, enough to casually be in the area, not far away enough in the urban area to be considered weird if he decided to go on a jog. Luckily, they had space, a vacancy for just one bedroom, for 3 nights. Before going up for a room, he retrieved his cellular device from under the mat of the lobby.
“Kimura, Fujimoto?” The clerk asked, eyeing Nagisa up and down.
He nodded, ignoring the woman’s lingering stare.
“‘Kay! You’ll be staying in room 214. Third floor, enjoy your stay.” She chirped, passing Nagisa a pair of keys.
He barely thanked her, taking the keys, pulling his empty suitcase across the lobby, entering the elevator. He dusted himself off, having bits of debris from the concrete roof on him, pressing the 3rd button once the elevator opened. The hotel room displayed itself, not anything remarkable, just enough to be comfortable for his sleeping state.
Turning on his phone, no new notifications popped up. Nagisa’s face deadpanned once the screen turned off again, mirroring his neutral expression back to him. He only had very few contacts anyway, still deciding to contact them via payphones or burner phones.
His suitcase wasn’t exactly empty, but Nagisa decidedly described it as such due to the fact the remnants of his luggage would be emptied anyway. The clinking of glasses made so much noise as he made his way into his own room, revealing themselves once Nagisa eagerly zipped open the suitcase.
Late nights brought a lot of boring grey space, downtime to do nothing but wait, brainstorm, anticipating the feeling of overwhelming grief. At least, grief and pity for the person targeted. It was complicated, Nagisa still appreciated the blessing of life dripped down upon everyone, but his profession had taught him the harsh reality of how quickly appreciation is lost.
The liquor guzzled down his throat, the burning sensation etched into the back of his throat, his gag reflexes familiar with the coarse bitter taste. Time seemed to pass without Nagisa needing to find a form of entertainment, the replays of each mission he’s completed soaring through his frontal lobe, reminding him of his crimes, morality thrown out the window, further and further away from him with each day that passes.
There was nothing to eat, and room service was out of the question– too much attention. With basically no money to his name, in cash anyway, Nagisa stumbled outside his room, finding a nearby convenience store as the choice for his supper. Something with little nutrition and lots of preservatives was calling to his stomach.
Brightlights of the 7-11 jammed into his irises, or maybe his senses were just ultra sensitive, having just finished the rest of his bottle of absolute before entering. Public drinking was a big no-no, and Nagisa only recommends committing one crime at a time. He was not about to get locked up and traced back to everything based on a misdemeanor.
Looking at his options, and then the coins in his hands, Nagisa couldn’t exactly be picky. So sandwiches it was, as he found instant noodles to be quite disgusting. Roast beef and lettuce had been his selection, wandering off in another aisle, humming to himself incoherently, unbothered by the civilians giving him stares. He could let loose for now, and be known as a hobo for all he cared for.
A shoulder rocked against Nagisa, catching him off guard by how dense it was. He was actually knocked back a couple of inches, gathering himself up, staggered, but he was up. Nagisa looked up at the guy, who didn’t even flinch at Nagisa’s tumbly appearance, or the fragrance of alcohol waving off of him.
He was on the phone, “Ah–, sorry.”
“No worries,” Nagisa replied, muffled, shooing him away, a bit irritated at the carelessness.
He massaged his shoulder, mumbling some curses under his breath, feeling the shock of pain through the barrier of fuzziness by his drunken state. He shook himself wider awake, taking his “groceries” to the front, checking out with the clerk.
“Buy one get one free for these sandwiches.” The clerk mentioned, her voice monotone, probably irritated because it was so late, and Nagisa was the exact demographic of people that shopped before closing.
“O..kay..” Nagisa acknowledged, abandoning the interaction, returning to the aisle for sandwiches.
He recognized the man with the strong shoulders, as his height structure wasn’t something to ignore, or the bright red hair. Though he rubbed his own head, he couldn’t judge for hair color. Quickly, he snatched the sandwich in the refrigerator, making the man look at him once again. He took a few steps back, like Nagisa would attack him or something. He noted how light his footsteps were for such a broad guy.
Nonetheless, he stumbled back to the counter, placing the second sandwich on the counter.
“¥350.” The clerk sighed.
Nagisa carefully took the coins out of his pocket, placing each JP¥100 coin into the clerk’s hand, four times, separately. The clerk looked beyond irritated, giving Nagisa his receipt and change exceptionally quickly.
“Thank you,” Nagisa bowed a little, his smile not being welcomed back.
Hiccups beckoned in his throat as he opened up the plastic container that held his sandwiches. The bland taste of the beef and wilted lettuce complimented his uncaring appearance, standing outside the 7-11, quickly regaining his energy for the next day to come. Rolling his neck to crack his joints, the light footsteps almost sent him chills.
Almost sinisterly, Nagisa’s eyes narrowed, watching the red-head exit the store, off the phone, and pass by him without a second thought. Until he stopped at the butt-bin for cigarettes, taking out a pack from his coat pocket. A cigarette sounded exceptionally delicious, and Nagisa dammed himself and his current poverty stricken estate.
Finishing up his first sandwich, Nagisa bitterly chewed every piece, his eyes closed and absorbing the cold night sky on his skin. His temples blared suddenly, alarm bells going off, instinctively, without opening his eyes, he moved back a couple of steps. His eyes opened up instantly, his reflexes slowed to the intoxication.
“Sorry–” The man hesitated, now only a couple of feet away from him. “Do you have a lighter?”
Nagisa’s chin went up, before he tapped his finger against his leg, using his other hand to rustle in his pockets.
“Mm a lighter, hnnghh..” He grumbled, throwing the lighter into the man’s hands.
“Thanks..” The man whispered, eyeing Nagisa up and down.
Igniting his cig, he handed the lighter back to Nagisa, who accepted it, but didn’t put it away.
“Well, hand one over,” Nagisa huffed, every other syllable being slurred, hand out, patiently waiting.
The man sighed, furrowing his eyebrows but obliging either way, handing Nagisa his craved cigarette. “Happy?”
“Mmf,” Nagisa replied, fervent to light his own up.
He sighed, releasing the device from his mouth, letting the chalky fume penetrate his throat, edging into his lungs, then blood. Light, almost as light as those damn footsteps. The ash crumbled off the butt, letting it dribble onto Nagisa’s fingers, then over his light grey long sleeve. He ignored the judgemental stare by the man, deciding to take his cig to-go, not even thanking the man for fulfilling his hankering urge.
All the night lights were blurring together, but luckily he was still coherent enough to figure out the directions from where his hotel building was. Tokyo wasn’t hard to direct from, even if it had been a long time since he’d stepped foot in the big city. 3 years actually wasn’t that long, and he’d been inside the city every once and while, albeit less than 24 hours.
Clinging onto the last bits of the cigarette, Nagisa let the burned out butt fall onto the floor, unbothered to pick it up. His second sandwich remained in his hands, where he’d have to rummage past it to grab his buzzing phone.
“Hello?” He croaked.
“Nagisa, where are you?” Irina asked, already suspicious of his current condition.
“Hotel,” He replied, monotone. “Wha.. what do you need?”
“I have a job for you to complete before you leave Tokyo, and preferably before you complete your mission on the 7th.”
Nagisa rubbed his face, pulling the skin under his eyes far apart, trying to quickly sober himself up. “I’m.. listening.”
“Just listen to me before denying, ‘kay? You’ll be working with another person from Taihai, he’s a professional, the same age as you.”
Nagisa stifled a groan, whether it was from disappointment or the bad mix of liquids and food was unknown.
“I have intel on the target– I only think you two will be able to handle this guy.” Irina continued, “He’s a part of Tobichiru, and he’s currently staying in Shinagawa. At least.. I hope he isn’t lying.”
The muffled sound of whining and screaming echoed into Nagisa’s ears, nothing he hadn’t heard from Irina’s torturing before.
He sighed, “Al..alright, uhm, when?”
“Right now,” She insisted, “We won’t know about his whereabouts after today, I caught one of the Tobichiru lurking by my hotel room.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Uh, okay, uhm.” Nagisa cleared his throat, “Can I have like 10 minutes?”
“I’ve just sent a driver to you, you sound drunk. Take a fucking advil, Nagisa.”
Adjusting his posture suddenly, he felt more self conscious. Hurriedly, he returned to the room, finding a plastic bag to carry a fresh pair of clothes in case anything happened. A blade already sat neatly in the waistband of his underwear, not including the razor perched under his tongue, there for reassurance and dire needs. Switching his necessities from one pocket to another, his phone screen lit up with a text from Irina.
[Irina:] Waiting outside.
Begrudgingly, Nagisa left his hotel once again, not even staying inside for longer than 5 minutes. Having put on a different set of clothes that included a hoodie, he was disguised to not receive any odd looks for the same lady working the front desk. He had no over the counter medicine to relieve him of his drunken mood, but if anything, he was buzzed, which helped calm his anxiety.
Without any question, he got into the backseat of the silver mazda, not making direct eye contact with the driver. Trying not to swirl around his tongue, he settled to continuously tap his foot, relieving himself temporarily. Nagisa almost caught himself engaging in small conversation, mentioning something about the lack of traffic. But maybe his mind needed to think these stupid thoughts right now.
With the interior of the car cuddling against Nagisa’s arms, the cushion had laid out perfectly for time to pass quite easily. Shaking his head slightly, he removed himself from the car once it stopped, immediately recognizing his surroundings as the metropolis area of Tokyo. The tall buildings statured over Nagisa, startling his perception senses.
Nonetheless, he dusted himself off, now a smidge more sober, reasonable, enough to make a phone call.
“Hey,” Nagisa greeted through the phone, dully.
“I see you,” A man replied on the other line, “‘M at the second building to your right, I’ll buzz you in once I see you.”
Nagisa hung up, chewing the inside of his lip. Turning in the direction he was instructed to, a bad pit in his stomach seemed to brew. He ignored it, because the overall feeling of sludge and dread always washed over him, permanently. Shaking out his fingers, he slipped into the alleyway, residing by the side door.
It buzzed and unlocked almost immediately, popping open, being caught with Nagisa’s hand, silently locking behind him as he kept close to the walls. The night sky was replaced with yellow iridescent lights, annoying and extremely bright for no real reason. He found a story of stairs, being used by a pair of somewhat heavy footsteps.
“You can be less jumpy,” The man suggested, entering the corridor, dressed in dark grey camouflage jeans, accompanied with a black long sleeve. That’s all Nagisa could really see, his hair practically covered his eyes, and the beanie he was wearing wasn’t helping his case.
“Angel,” Nagisa replied, eyeing up the man.
“Chiba.” He replied, a hint of honesty and sincerity flooding his mouth.
Though Nagisa didn’t respond, choosing to look for the envelope Irina definitely hid. He felt up the handles of the stairs, moving each step with his foot to try and find a secret department. Nothing.
“Here,” Chiba spoke up, lifting the part under a window, holding the envelope in his hand. Ripping the top open, the paper only revealed a picture and a set of coordinates.
“Does he look familiar to you?” Nagisa asked, voice low.
The male in the photo had a heavy set build, broad and muscular. His hair was close shaven, the top being accented by a blonde dye job, and somewhat spiky and messy. A name was written, underlined, “Terasaka.”
“No, let’s hope it’s not anything to worry about.”
Nagisa nodded, using his burner phone to input the coordinates.
“Next door,” Nagisa warned, backing away from any clear open windows. “Upstairs, 4th floor. Room to the hallway with the elongated window facing Meguro river.”
Chiba acknowledged him, urging Nagisa to follow him up to the stairs, hands in his pockets, “I’ll move my set up.”
“Grab it and meet me on the roof, I’ll set up the suspension cable.”
Each story had less and less of the exaggerated yellow office lights, and it disappeared completely once Nagisa opened the roof access’s door, returning to the obscure twilight in the atmosphere. He threw the plastic bag he had been carrying to the side, not finding use in it for now.
Shooting off the cable had been ingrained in Nagisa’s automatic pilot mode since the beginning of time, and tonight was like no other. He watched the blade of the end of the cable puncture through the stone wall on the other building, forcefully remaining there until manually removed by him. Tying the other end to the roof’s ground was easy enough, sturdy just like the thousands of times he’s done this before.
Nagisa used his foot to test the stability, seeming fine, strong enough to carry his body weight between buildings. Rustling was audible behind him, Chiba had returned with his packed up sniper, now made into a makeshift carrier about the size of a lunchbox. He looked at Nagisa, then the cable.
“That’s how we’re getting over there?” He asked, bewildered.
“Should we knock and ask for the man politely?” Nagisa rolled his eyes.
“As long as you go first,” Chiba insisted, tying the carrier to his belt.
“My pleasure,” He gave him a smug look, nearing the edge of the roof, before jumping off, catching himself on the provisional zip-line.
Steadying himself up right, he used his hands and legs to move forward, fingers irreparably tight on the cable. Clasping onto the black cable line, once he got to the other side, he let go, looking back at Chiba from the other side.
Reluctantly, he followed Nagisa’s steps, mimicking every move, except very slowly.
“You have a higher chance of falling off if you’re slower,” Nagisa warned, ensuring the strength from this side now.
“There’s a reason Irina hardly gives you group work,” He huffed, dusting himself off.
“I like it that way,” Nagisa gave a slight tug at the roof access’s door, checking its lock.
With an inhale, Nagisa opened the door, immediately grabbing the thick lock on the edge of the door-hinge, making it silent. He opened it just enough for Chiba to squeeze through, which he did momentarily. Nagisa slipped inside, using a rock to leave it just a crack open, so it wouldn’t make any noise or lock while they were away.
Stepping closer and closer to the assigned area, they had gone down at least 3 stories of stairs. Once they were on the next floor, Chiba pulled Nagisa to the side, pointing out the elongated window, full view of the building they were just in. Once they realized they were in the correct area, Nagisa departed from Chiba just for a moment, using the rest of his cables to make booby-traps at the ends of each hall for the window.
In the middle of the whole floor had a big boxed up room, with open windows. Multiple TV’s surrounded a chair, a whole monitoring system for all of the building. The door leading to the security room was opened to the corridor with the open window. Nagisa crawled back to the dark area of stairs, where Chiba had been waiting for him.
Chiba’s index finger pointed to the room with all the monitoring cameras, where three men roamed, talking to each other, not caring for whatever is being shown on all of the cameras. All tall, ample structures, dressed in dark blendable clothing. The only indicator Nagisa noticed was the peaking blonde hair of one of the hoodies, short and blown out, spiky enough to match the photo’s characteristics and description perfectly.
“He’s there,” Nagisa faintly whispered, getting the razor blade out more from his tongue, if anything were going to go wrong.
“What do we do about those two?” Chiba murmured, constructing his improvised 3-1 sniper to a handgun, putting on the parts to help it transform into a semi-automatic.
“I don’t know,” Nagisa replied, wishing he was in a more sufficient condition, “They’re definitely a part of Tobichiru.”
He hushed himself immediately after seeing two figures move outside, peering to the sides of the hallways, then leaning against the window, watching the view. Chiba stifled back a gasp, disappearing into the shade of the stairway.
“Still zero sign of ‘em,” One of the men complained, removing his hoodie.
The blonde spiky top was barely visible, only noted by the moonlight and nightlight illuminating back into the building.
“Yer’ such a whiner,” the other man replied, slapping the partly blonde haired man on the back.
“Don’t touch me, Karma.” The man hissed. “‘M starting to think this whole thing was a hoax, who pays 100% up front anyway?”
“I thought that was weird too,” Karma agreed, “I’m not going to complain about free money though.”
“Yeah, you say that until your head is hung in the alleyway,” He sighed.
Chiba ducked down, silently crawling on the floor, scooching closer, being hidden by the security room, aiming his weapon to the back of the blonde man’s back, directing it to the heart. Nagisa only watched, deciding that Tobichiru could deal with the bloody mess, they’d only be missing the bullet.
His finger held over the trigger, body stupendously ready to shoot and run. It had gone eerily quiet, even the slight hum of comfortable silence had disappeared. Nagisa had moved next to Chiba, sitting on the side of the wall, back practically glued to the interior.
Footsteps rushed towards them, before falling on top of each other from the courtesy of Nagisa’s cable.
“Fuck!” Karma cursed, pushing the blonde man off of him.
Nagisa looked at the two stumbled bodies, quickly rolling to the darkness of the stairway.
“Angel!” Chiba yelled.
Nagisa didn’t respond, barely phased by the call out of the name, expecting Chiba to join him.
“Angel, shoot–” Chiba’s bellow was interrupted by the splattering of his brains all over the wall.
Gunpowder filled the room, dusting Nagisa’s nose grossly. The smell of hot melting skin pierced through Nagisa’s skin, goosebumps filling every crevice on his body. His eyes stung from the debris all in the air, still functioning enough to see the lifeless body of Chiba, grimaced, forever positioned on the ground, eyeballs widened, out of its sockets, smushed onto the tile floor.
He held back the vomit immediately following in his mouth, finding the man that had caused his partner’s demise. Barely blonde, orange hue of hair, the tall broad figure stood with a pistol in his hand, smoking. Quickly, Nagisa slipped behind him, using the razor from under his tongue to grip between his fingers, holding the man by his neck, cornering him on all sides of his limbs.
“Asano!” The blonde haired man yelled, already up, ignoring the dead body that had tainted his face with brain matter and blood.
“Terasaka, relax!” Asano breathed, smirking against the body behind him.
He dropped the gun, slowly moving his hands up, feeling the razor sharp blade upon his throat.
“You got me,” Asano smirked wickedly, “but I got your friend already, ain’t that right?”
Nagisa didn’t reply, forcefully moving his eyes from the view, eyeing Terasaka and Karma up and down.
“Don’t move!” Nagisa demanded, voice angry and incoherent. “Step back 2 meters, both of you!”
Both had complied, hands raised, moving back. Mumbling a variety of curses, Nagisa quickly moved, dropping down, slicing the right heel of Asano’s foot, engraving the blade into his skin, puncturing every muscle the razor made contact with. With a hard kick, Nagisa’s leg flew to Asano’s side, throwing him into the hallway.
“Agh, fuck!” Asano cursed, holding himself down.
Nagisa looked at Karma, recognizing his bright red hair, the golden aspect of his eyes that judged him before, now looked back at him in seethed anger, hesitant to step forward and attack him. With the split second he had before Terasaka lunged forward, he threw his switchblade from his waist band, landing directly in Terasaka’s shoulders, pinning his rotator cuff to the wall.
Now rushing to the stairs, he had sprinted up the three stories of stairs in a heartbeat, trying to desperately ignore the bellowing pairs of footsteps behind him. He shoved the door open, slamming it shut behind him, quickly jumping onto the cable.
His hands were raw, defensive cuts peppering all over his palm, but he ignored it, fighting off of pure adrenaline and spite for his partner in crime. The pit in his stomach seemed to be released, washing him over with agitation, intense terror filling every bone in his body. Looking behind him, Nagisa cursed as the roof’s door opened, Karma and Terasaka in pursuit.
Without thinking, Nagisa used the small razor blade to cut the cable, accepting the hard crash his ribs would endure. The gush of wind felt like riding a roller coaster, then mashed by one, as Nagisa made direct contact with the original building, giving a hug to its concrete exterior. Despite the roaring pain, he fought through, climbing up the cable, jumping over the edge, landing on his back, chest heaving.
Whether it was the broken skin in his face, or the feeling of squashed ribs penetrating his stomach, or the unforgettable image of Chiba’s blown off head, Nagisa threw up. Expelling all of his stomach’s contents, tears pocketing itself out. The smell of stomach acid mixed between hard liquor stayed on his hands.
Looking at them, only the left side of his body was smeared with blood. Removing his hoodie, he lit it with the same lighter, throwing it off to the side. He gathered his plastic bag for a change of clothes, looking back at the building parallel to him. Only Karma remained, looking back as Terasaka yelled at him to come back inside.
Fumbling with his pocket, Nagisa closed the door behind him, holding the phone up to his ear, shakily dialing Irina’s number.
“What the fuck was that?” He cried into the phone, fingers feeling every feature on his face, reminding himself that he was there, not on the ground shot dead.
“Nagisa I’ve been calling you–” Irina spluttered, “Tobichiru planned this! You have to get out of there–”
“He’s dead.” Nagisa monotoned, dragging his hand against his face, letting it fall to his sides. “Shot. Three members of Tobichiru were there. I have their names now.”
“That’s..” Irina paused, “I’ll come get you. Stay inside, but I think you’re okay for now.”
Nagisa hung up, plopping down on the floor, back scraping against the wall. Blood had already dried up on his face, covering him in the sticky sensation of warm dirtiness. Chiba’s voice rang in his head, reminding him of his mistake.
“Angel!”
He could’ve introduced himself. ‘Nagisa’, it wouldn’t hurt him.
Even ‘Anaconda’, could have sufficed.
Damn it.