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She's three years old when her brother arrives into the stifled and dark place she knows as home, a screaming bundled up thing that Mama impatiently rocks as she exchanges loud words with Papa. The little girl sits in the corner of the room with bony arms wrapped around equally bony knees. The bundle in Mama's arms intrigues her, and she wants food, but she doesn't dare go any closer to her parents.
By the time her new baby brother falls asleep the little girl is also crying. Mama and Papa don't seem to notice nor care.
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She's five years old when she finally learns that crying will typically earn her harsh strikes and scary yells, not food or water. But her brother apparently isn't capable of learning the same lesson. At least his cries draw their attention away from her.
There's no one to comfort the little girl. She often shivers, searching through the rubbish on the floor for something soft to hold or anything edible.
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She's seven years old when the tall man with white hair from next door breaks into their home and shoots Mama and Papa— two muffled shots from his gun, one in each of their foreheads.
The little girl can't remember the last time her home was so peaceful. Quiet. Behind her lies her brother, still and silent beneath a filthy blanket. She vaguely wonders if he'll start to cry when he wakes up and sees their dead parents.
"From today on, you're Isuke Inukai. You're my daughter from now on, okay?"
She's dizzy and weak from days of neglect, but the words somehow manage to ring loud and clear through the fog in her mind. The man tenderly takes her hands in his own and says other things, things that she doesn't quite understand until he mentions that word. Sometimes Mama and Papa would scream that word at each other, or even at their own children. Isuke came to hate that word but the way this man says it somehow makes it seem... warm.
"It's about killing."
Something inside the child now called Isuke Inukai flares, truly flares with a violent spark, for the first time in her life.
---
She's eight years old by the time she grows used to calling Eisuke Inukai and his husband her Mama and Papa.
Isuke never had any other Mama and Papa, nor any other name, nor a brother who never woke up to cry again as far as she cares. The police never found the bodies of the man and woman and boy who lived in that filthy home. By the time an investigation went underway the Inukai family was several cities away.
A man and a woman and a boy. No one ever reported a girl missing. It was as if she'd simply never existed.
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She's eleven years old when Eisuke brings his daughter along on an assignment for the first time. He stands aside and watches as Isuke attacks the target with moves practiced a thousand times: legs kicked out, knees crashing to the floor, foot stomping down on his back, and the final deliverance, strangulation by the cute purple scarf Eisuke bought Isuke for her birthday. She can't hold back her childish giggles as the man sputters and squirms like an insect beneath her shoe. See the way his eyes bulge like that? See his limbs uselessly flail about? How funny!
Once the man is dead, Isuke pulls the scarf away and smiles at Eisuke like a schoolgirl proudly showing her parent her latest high mark.
"What do you think, Mama? Did Isuke do well~?"
Eisuke only smiles and gently pats her head, but that's enough to make Isuke glow with pride. His little girl is growing up, and fast.
---
But in reality Isuke Inukai was clingy like no other, that fact well hidden by an air of patronizing confidence and an armor of indifference to anything outside her world that consisted of her parents. She thrived on affection. She constantly hungered for love. Anything. A pat on the head. A smile from Mama. A hug from Papa. Eisuke's soothing voice alone was like a security blanket. They spoiled her rotten with generous allowances that Isuke spent on makeup and shoes and clothes and whatever other luxuries she fancied, and she saw absolutely nothing wrong with that life of frivolities and assassinations. Everything was perfect as long as Mama and Papa loved her.
And of course, as long as they had money.
She hates the fact that she can never completely forget that filthy place she grew up in. In a way, it's that buried resentment and trauma that pushes her even closer to her adopted parents.
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She's thirteen years old when Isuke decides she doesn't like excessive blood after all. Her blades had hit something in her target's throat- an artery, and while the man falls quietly enough his blood sprays over the assassin in a swift arc.
Isuke wrinkles her nose in disgust, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe at her skin. Ugh. Why did she choose to wear a white jacket tonight? Messy. This is just messy. Messy and gross.
Isuke also hates messy things. No matter how many trinkets and shoes and other useless accessories she buys, she's always careful to keep the floor of her room clean.
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She's fourteen years old when Papa convinces Mama to put her in school for the first time in her life.
Two weeks later, after Isuke breaks the nose of a girl who had the gall to insult her, Mama pulls her back out and resumes homeschooling her (training her).
It wasn't like Isuke would have to know the history of Japan or advanced calculus to assassinate people, anyway. Silly Papa.
---
She loves shopping with her parents, unlike most other kids her age who refuse to be seen in public with theirs. The embarrassed look on Papa's face is always funny to look at whenever she drags them into a lingerie store, and Mama is surprisingly smart when it comes to fashion. Other girls, groups she'll often see walking together or sitting at tables, don't interest Isuke at all even if Papa often asks why she won't socialize with her peers. What's the big deal? Isuke doesn't need to make friends. Friends aren't useful for anything, not when Isuke already has everything she needs. Papa only sighs and folds his arms.
But Mama understands. The way Isuke clings to their arms, teases Papa, kisses Mama's cheek, looks at them as if they're the sun and moon— it's more than enough to understand why.
Complete and utter devotion. It transcends the normal parent-child relationship.
She'll do well taking over the business once Eisuke retires.